The Spenders: A Tale of the Third GenerationWilson, Harry Leon
General
The Spenders: A Tale of the Third Generation
Wilson, Harry Leon
Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
He was pleased, moreover, to feel a new respect for Uncle Peter. He
observed that men of all degrees looked up to him, sought and relied
upon his judgment; the investing capitalist whom they met not less than
the mine foreman; the made man and the labourer. In the drawing-room at
home he had felt so agreeably superior to the old man; now he felt his
own inferiority in a new element, and began to view him with more
respect. He saw him to be the shrewd man of affairs, with a thorough
grasp of detail in every branch of their interests; and a deep man, as
well; a little narrow, perhaps, from his manner of life, but of
unfailing kindness, and with rather a young man's radicalism than an
old man's conservatism; one who, in an emergency, might be relied upon
to take the unexpected but effective course.
For his own part, old Peter Bines learned in the course of the trip to
understand and like his grandson better. At bottom he decided the young
man to be sound after all, and he began to make allowance for his
geographical heresies. The boy had been sent to an Eastern college;
that was clearly a mistake, putting him out of sympathy with the West;
and he had never been made to work, which was another and a graver
mistake, "but he'd do more'n his father ever did if 'twa'n't fur his
father's money," the old man concluded. For he saw in their talks that
the very Eastern experience which he derided had given the young fellow
a poise and a certain readiness to grasp details in the large that his
father had been a lifetime in acquiring.
For a month they loitered over the surrounding territory in the private
car, gliding through fertile valleys, over bleak passes, steaming up
narrow little canyons along the down-rushing streams with their cool
shallow murmurs.
They would learn one day that a cross-cut was to be started on the Last
Chance, or that the concentrates of the True Grit would thereafter be
shipped to the Careless Creek smelter. Next they would learn that a new
herd of Galloways had done finely last season on the Bitter Root ranch;
that a big lot of ore was sacked at the Irish Boy, that an
eighteen-inch vein had been struck in the Old Crow; that a concentrator
was needed at Hellandgone, and that rich gold-bearing copper and sand
bearing free gold had been found over on Horseback Ridge.
Another day they would drive far into a forest of spruce and hemlock to
a camp where thousands of ties were being cut and floated down to the
line of the new railway.
Sometimes they spent a night in one of the smaller mining camps off the
railroad, whereof facetious notes would appear in the nearest weekly
paper, such as:
"The Hon. Peter Bines and his grandson, who is a chip of the old block,
spent Tuesday night at Rock Rip. Young Bines played the deal from soda
card to hock at Lem Tully's Turf Exchange, and showed Lem's dealer good
and plenty that there's no piker strain in him."
Or, it might be:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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