North Carolina Newspapers

The Ambition of Mark Truitt v ; HENRY RUSSELL MILLER (Coorright.l9U.bf 11» MMtsrrill Cnapsagr) SYNOPSIS. Kirk Truitt. erK»u raged br t**» sweet heart. Unity Martin, leaves Bathel, ht» native town, to Sefk hla fortune. Blmon Truitt t«lla Mark that It long has been hla dream to see a steel plant at Bethel and aaks the son to return and build one if he ever gets rich. Mark applies to Thomas Henley, head of the Qutnby Iron* works, for a Job and Is sent to the con struction vans. His Kucceas In that work wins him a place as helper to Roman Andsrejsakl, apen-bearth furnace man. He becomes a boarder In Kotnan'a home and assists Pfotr, Roman's son. In his studloa. Kazla. an adopted (laughter, chows her EUtude In such a manner as to arouse rk's Interest In her. CHAPTtR Vlf—Continued. "Tea, jrou would, Kazla. But I guess it's more than Just the money. You see, In Bethel there's no chance, noth ing to do; except grow old and nose Into your neighbor's business and— and want the things you can't have." "Yea," she said slowly, "I know." "You know? Do you want things, too?" "Want things!" She drew a long wonderiag breath, as she measured de sire. She did not wait for his ques tion. "T6 be different." They sat a little above the carriage road, along which rolled the Sunday afternoon procession of pleasure takers. He pointed to an open landau In which two women sat, primly up right, hands folded In laps and faces aet straight ah£d, the very picture of Th«y Sat a Little Above the Carriage Road. well-dressed, self-conscious respect ability—as from Kasia as anything he could conceive. "Like that?" "Tea, like that. Sometimes." Sbe looked wistfully departing respectabilities. "Hut mostly, just to belong to somebody." "But Roman and the Matka and Ptotr—" "They're ashamed of me and afraid other people'Q find out about me. When I went to school the other boys and girls said things—and did things. I didn't care." Her head went up and her voice told how paaaionately she had cared. "But Plotr told them at home and they wouldn't let me go any more. They'd be glad If I were gone. And some day—l will go." "But where, Kazta?" "I don't know," she said wearily. "If I knew, I'd go now. Some place where they won't know about me. Here nobody, when they find out, treats me like other people. Except," she • added, "Jim Whiting " "And me," he said gently. "And rou." She turned to look searcblcgly Into his eyes. "Don't It really make any difference to you?" "I settled that question once for all last Sunday." Her look of gratitude disturbed him strangely. He stirred uncomfortably. She saw, but., did not underatand. She pointed to the sinking sun. "See! It's getting late. I must go and get your supper." He took her hand and helped her to rise. But he did not release the hand. "Hare you liked It today? And will you come again V He smiled down upon her. In her eyea was still the look of gratitude, of trust "If yon want to," ahe answered simply. And In the weeks that followed they did repeat that holiday more than onc^- Mark did not try to analyse hla pleasure In £hose weeks. His heart said: "I am young and life should be bright But this existence—toll, eat sleep and toll again—ls eating my youth away. I have a right to this little pleasure." The only real shadow was that cast by Jim Whiting. The weekly bulletins to Unity con tained Important omissions. Ope night be was In his room, sleep less. There had been no little chat with Kasla after supper. She had bad just time to make her simple toilet before Jim Whiting came to carry her away. Mark lay there, tossing rest lessly, vislonlng the two In some se cluded spot where Whiting could make lore to her undisturbed. The thought was not a sedative. He wished they '• \ " • would come home; he did not like to think of her out la the languorous night with Whiting. In time they did return. The mur mur of their voices on the little front porch came to him through his open window. Whiting seemed In no haste to leave. Mark wondered Impatiently what they found to talk so long about /At length, sleep as far away as ever, he arose, dressed and went quietly down stairs—with what Intent be hardly knew. the bottom stair he stopped, facing the door. Whiting waa on the point of leaving. Mark saw film coolly put an arm around Kaxia; she suffered It. Hot anger—and some thing far sharper—boiled within the eavesdropper. Nor was it perceptibly cooled when he saw her deftly avoid the kiaa Whiting would have taken; she laughed as she broke away. Whit ing went down the steps, whistling g*iiy. Hark was still standing on the stair when she went In. She started. "Oh! Is that you?" "I think It Is." "That's a funny thing to say," ahe laughed. "Tour voice soundß funny, too." He bad Just been condemning Whit ing for the Indecent length of his stay. Now he said: "Let's go out on the porch a while." They went out Into, the moonlight. He sat upon the railing and stared grimly in the direction of Whiting's departure. It was paat midnight; the street slept. From the valley Jlbelow them came the rumble of the mills that were teaching him fear and self control. He was silent for a few min utes, while be trtpd to master the ugly thing within hiui. 'What is it?" she asked wonder- Ingly. 'Kazla," he blurted out, "you shouldn't let him do that." "Oh! dfou saw?" "1 didn't mean to." "Why do you say I shouldn't?" "He—he's not fit to touch you." "He's very jolly and nice to me," she said quietly. "And —and he wants to take me away." "But you're not going, are you?" he cried. She sighed. "I don't know—yet" "Kasla!" He did not know how his voice waa shaking. "Promise me you won't go away with him." "Why not?" She turned to him. "Why not?" "Because," be began unsteadily, "be cause I want thq best for you. Be cause—because this!" With a sudden rough recklesa movement he caught her cloae to him. ,Bhe Buffered him aa ahe had Jim Whiting. "Don't you know 1 want only the beat for you?" "I think I do.'' Sbe put a hand to his cheek and turned hla face out of the shadow, looking long and search lngly Into his eyes. Then she gave a little sigh. "I prom ise—now." Her lltfa waited for hla kiss. ~ Gradually hla senses cleared. He began to see the ugly treachery of what he had done. His strong clasp slackened.... Sbe seemed to feel, with the sixth sense that was hers, the change In him. "What is It?" She looked up in quick alarm. "Nothing." To avoid her eyes he caught her close again, burying his face in her hair, and yielded to the intoxication of her. "Ob! Kazta, Kaxia!" ... CHAPTER VIIL Afire. July came, auch a month as the city could not remembef, humid and slckenlngly hot. Children played lan guidly, alwaya In the abade, and flocked around Ice wagona, quarreling over the division of the fast melting, cool fragments. In the mills the men tolled on, "speeding up" as always to feed a world hunger for steel. They drank vast quantities of water; they salted It that they might drink the mere, be lieving that In much sweating alone lay safety. There were giants In those days. But sometimes they fell. A sud den drying up of sweat, a violent nau sea, * sharp blinding pressure upon the brain —In a few mlnutea or fewer hours they were dead; their names did not alwaya appear in the dally Usts. Some that did not die found their strength forever broken. The fierce best blistered Mark's naked sweating kkln. The water he drank carried out through bis pores the food that should have nourished him. The heavy labor put upon him a weariness sleep could not dispeL The incessant roar, tearing at quivering nerves, impeding thought became in his overwrought state exquisite tor ture. Hate, for the mill a; for thoae above wbo drove so pitilessly, even for the men beside him, filled him; and fear. Once, when Henley, paaaing, gave his careless nod, be was an swered only with a venomoua glare that summoned the master's sardonic grin. Mark could have killed blm then. He envied Roman, often almost blt teily. The big Pole felt and showed the effects of the intense beat, bOt he waa the same.unflurried philosoph ical workman as ever, slways with s , 5 1 THXIMTKRPEIBB, WIUJAMSTON. HOETH CAROLINA. cheerful word; no fear of collapse dls turbed him. ' Through watching him Mark was beset by a new temptation. Whoa their turns were ended Roman and the men Invariably flocked to the noar eat saloon and there drank repeatedly —whisky and brandy mostly—until vigor returned to their worn out bodies. It was a false vigor, Mark know, and ahort-Uved. But there were times when the thought of the hour of sur cease from fatigue, of spirited outlook, lured him almost Irresistibly. And one evening he followed Roman and his companions to the bar. "Whisky,- he ordered. Roman put out a restraining hand. "You better hot drink," he counseled grfjrely. "Or only beer." Mark laughed recklessly and re peated his order. Thrice he drank. The weight dragging at his limbs lifted, the misery rankling in his heart dissolved, lie was cheerful, talkative, soon maudlin. Before he reached home the whisky had possessed his unac cuatomed brain; he was staggering, drunk. Roman undressed him and put him to bed without supper. But he had had his perioif of forgetfulness. The next day he paid—and the crav ing gnawed more sharply. That eve ning Roman, understanding, avoided the saloon and led Mark by a straight course homeward. Thereafter it was hla custom, until Mark saw the care and forbade. "You needn't be afraid. It costs too much. Everything." he added with a bitterness for which Roman had not the key, "coats too much." "Zo? But you are tiredt. Unt you are not strong. Vy do you not leaf the vork?" "Give up now, after holding on this far! I guess you don't mean that But some day I'll get where I want— I'll have life by the throat." It did not seem melodramatic to him. "Then I'll make It pay for this—on Its kneea" Roman shook his head gravely, iji at»»n blasphemy. "You shouldt not say zo. Alvajs life Us the master. But you are tiredt.' And In the midst of the ordeal b / tire he fought his first battle. At time* he was almost grateful for the pt.ysl-. csl weariness that distracted him lrons> the inner struggle. He learned then how lnserotlbly ITnlty had receded into the back ground. Sho had become vague, of little substance; she was a story ho had read a long time ago. But she was real, too, in that she was a habit. There was a memory that accused- 3 a girl, for once warm acd yielding, in the last glory of the kunnet, cling ing to him with the tremulous cry: "You won't forget me out there?" Ho had made a vow. . . . Within a twelvemonth he had clasped another. That other was both real, intensely real—and near. He tried to avoid her; It was not easy. Kazla went about, qulster than ever, what she felt too deep for words, too solemn for laughter. She did not again break Into song. But no one seslng her eyep could have doubted what had come Into her heart. And she gave to her lover with both hands, knowing no thrift in love. ' Her happiness awed, sometimes al most frightened her, but she would not question it. When her sixth sense stirred, she shamed it Into silence. She aaw in her lover's eyes a trouble that deepened as the days went by, heard It in his voice, felt It when he claaped her. One evening—the laat before the hot wave broke; but he did not know that —he dragged himself homeward, be lieving he had come to the end of his endurance. "But I suppose I haven't,''he sighed. "Probably I'll Just go on and on—but Bome day I'll drofc. I wonder why 1 do It! I wish the end would come soon —now." He thought he meant that. Even the bath brought no relief. He sat down to a supper against the very He Saw the Figure Crouching on the Floor at the Bedside. thought of which hla stomach revolted. After a few mouthfula he left the table and went to his room. He threw him self, still dressed, oo the bed, tossing restlessly in the vain search for an easy position. Hla body waa one dull aohe. The overheated blood pounded through his veins, sach throb a knife that hacked its brain. His skin waa hot and dry, bis mouth parched; fever rose. , The late darkness fell, dispelled a little by the faint glow from a nearby street lamp; it found him lying Inert but awake. His mind was beginning to behave queerjy, - seeing strange, shadowy objects that moved stealthily about Ho caught himself mut taring to them. Ha wondered tt he ware growing delirious, but he could not summon energy to call out or arise. It must have boon 10 o'clock when be thought he heard s light tap on the door. He made an effort to speak. "Come." The door opened. Some one tip toed softly to the bedside and leaned over him. "Are you sick?" came the broken anxioua whisper. "You looked ao tired —and you'eame up without —speaking to me. They said, let you sleep. But Fve been —so afraid." He caught her hand and clung«to It "Would you mind stsylng a while?" he whlapered back. "My head does funny tricks In the dark" She put her free hand to hla hot forehead. Then she gave a low pity ing cry. "You are Bick!—Wait!" She left the room quietly. Soon she returned with towels and a basin of water In which Ice tinkled. She lighted the gas Jet and turned It very low. "Close your eyeß now," she said softly, "and try to sleep. I didn't tell any one, because I wantPd to help you myself." 4 » He lay passive, while she placed cold wet towels over hlB eyes; bathed hla hands and wrists in the icy waier and stroked hla throbbing templeß. Pie wondered dully that hands which worked so hard could bo so gentle. For many mlnutoß they did not Bpeak. . . . The stealthy shapes were laid. The sharp pounding In his brain ouv gan to subside. Drowßlneßs' was steal ing over him. His hands groped until they found hers "Kazla, Kazla!" he breathed. "Hush!" she said. "It's such a pretty namo," he mur mured sleepily. He felt her Hps on Ills forehead. After that he slept. When he awoke the room was dark. A cool moist wind Bwept strongly In upon him. He heard the rumble of far away retreating thunder. And with the heat the headache and overpow ering fatigue had gone. He drew a long Hlg'iing breath. Something stirred In his >iuud. Thou In the faint reflection of the stmt lamp he saw the figure crouch ing oo the floor at tho bedside, her cheek pillowed In his outstretched hand It took him a moment to real ise what had brought her there, "Are yoi\ awake?" she whispered. "Yes." "And btwttor?'' "All right now, thanks to you.— Why, you're all wet!" "Yes." She rose stiffly to her knees. "It's been storming and It rained In on me a tittle. But It's cooler now." "And you—What time Is It?" "A clock JUBt struck four." "And you've been here all the tlme?'V "I was afraid you'd wake up and need some one. And —I wanted to." "Kazla, why do you do thoßo things for me?" "It is my place." Her place! What place, then, bad ho given her? "Kazla--" he began. Hut more than cowardice sealed his lips. She might have been consciously lighting for her love. She bent over and kissed him. "Hush! You need to sleep." CHAPTER IX- Liquid Iron. The toot spell was over. For fifty seven years Roman had toiled as few men can toll—on the tiny farm that had been his father's, to satisfy the greedy tax gatherer; in lessen, learning another craft under the master Krupp; In the new land whose promise had lured him. Not once had his superb strength and en durance failed him; therefore be had never known fear, had not believed that the fate that overtook others must aome day be his. lie had been very prodigal of that strength. Hut one day—such a one as in that reason the steel-workers called cool— he staggered and fell. It was three days before he could go back to hla Job. During that time Mark Truitt aas In charge of the furnace. He who returned was not the care ful, precise, unflurrled workman. He knew fear. He tired easily and was uncertain Of temper. Tho heat fretted him and he worried over his work. He lout in efficiency; several times he tapped the furnace either too soon or too late and was Bharply repri manded. To keep up and to forget the new weakneaa he drank more whisky than ever. Within two weeks he collapsed again. it was during Roman's third lay-off that Gracey, the foreman, said to Mark: "It looks like Roman'o done for." f\ "It looks that way," Mark assented. "It's come pretty sudden with him It does that sometimes." ' Yes." Mark stared sadly through the furnace mouth at the boiling llame swept slag. The drama had become a tragedy. There was an element in steel of which chemists took no ac count —the lives and souls of men. "He can't expect to keep hla Job," he heard the foreman continue, "away half the time like this. And last week he spoiled two heats. I'm afraid we'll have to let him go." "Yes!" Mark's mouth twisted in an ugly sneer. "He's given you the best he had. And now he's breaking down. So—scrap him, of course!" "That's funny talk," grunted the foreman. "Especially alnce the super intendent and I've been talking it over and we think of you for the Job. That makes It look different, don't it?" he laughed. "No, it doesn't. Do you suppose I haven't been thinking of that—count ing on It—eve* since he broke first?" Mark turned hoi eyes on tjie foreman. "Why, that's the worst of you. You drive us to the limit and when we break you kick us off like an old ahoe. And that isn't enough. You've got to make beafets of us, every man dogging the fellow ahead, glad when he drops and lets go bis Job. Damn you all, anyhow!" "Then I'm to tell the superintendent you don't want the Job?" Mark looked again Into the boiling furnace, felt its consuming breath, lis tened to the mllla' strident voice. Through every senae he caught their menace; his spirit cowered before It But he who had come so near (o fall ing could know the bltterneaa of him through whose fall advancement would come. v "No!" he snarled In savage con tempt for himself and his hollow high Indignation. "You can tell him I'm a beast like all the rest." He was on the night turn then. In the'morning he went reluctantly to Roman's house. At breakfast he was alone with Kazla. But there was no love-making that morning. Nor did he explain that he was to supersede her uncle at the furnace. "How'a Roman?" he asked with an added inward twinge. "He'a not much better," she sighed. "We're worried about him. He Treta because he thinks he might lose his Job." " He said nothing. "Do you think ho will?" "Yes." He made shift to raise his eyes to hers. "I think he will." yjust because he's sick. Oh, surely npt!" / "Because he's used up. And when j you're used up, you've got to get out to make room for better—for those that can still be useful." "Oh, that would break his heart. How I hate those mills!" Bhe cried. "But don't tell him you think that" "No." His eyes fell. "I won't tell him. He'll find out soon enough." Roman did not go back to work . until his shift was on day turn again. Some presentiment of the Impending i calamity must have come to him, for ' as ho and Mark sot out tor the mlllß i that morning the Irritability that hail - marked him since tils first collapse i gave way to a deep dejection. I It was not until they were entering the mill shed that Mark Bald: "Roman, ! I think Gracey wants to Bee you." ■ ] lie tried to make It very gentle. •J "Zo?" Roman halted, looked In -1 tently at Mark. Ho drew a long wills - tllng breath. "Zo!" lie understood. But his presentiment had not told him how deep the liurt would be. He tried to look the man he had been. But his tired lackluster eyeß - belled the Btlffly martial shoulders and firm step. Ho went straight to the foreman. i "Mine chop?" he aßked steadily. "You vlll tako It avay?' "I'm afraid we'll have to let you go, J Roman." , "Unt vy?" Thero was no complaint. I "You're laying off too much," the foremau answered bluntly. "And you're I. getting careless In your work. You've j lost your grip." i . "I haf been zlck> Meppy," Roman I ' made an effort to speak the confidence ) he did not feel, "meppy I'll get better." I * "I hope so. You've been a good man '| In your time. But I don't think so. rj You're getting too old for the work." '.Jracey was still young; he could speak carelessly of growing old. "In my time! Oldt," Roman re peated slowly. "I haf not bellefedt to." He did not wince. But the shoul- I sfcra he had been holding so bravely I erect sagged. /'Oldt! It lss zo." ' He started to move away, but the . foreman called him back. I ? "See here, Roman," he said with , • rough kindness. "You've always drawn good pay. And you've quite a bit laid I by, I hear. Why don't you go back I to your own country and take It easy , the rest of your life?" Roman eyed him listlessly. "Here lss mine country. But I do not vant t to take It, easy. Alvayß haf I vorkedt —the vork of strong men." ( He left the foreman and walked ( slowly, heavily before the furnaces un , til he camo to hlB old station. There he stopped, watching the crew at work; lfi particular watching the flg , ure —so ullght for that labor —of tho , young man who had endured where I stronger men fell. How neatly he flt ! ted into his new niche! "Unt ho lss not oldt. Oldt!-Roman shivered. Mark Truitt ate —or pretended to eat —hla supper in tho saloon that , night. Ho could not bring himself to , face the ordeal of sitting at table with Roman's family. There was no sense of triumph in his promotion, honestly earned though It was as his world measured such things. He walked to Roman's house, wllh a firm tread that was the outward ex pression of his mood. He knew Just what was coming. He dreaded it, the moment when he inust again face the man by whose fall he profited, must again break the sweet ties this life formed only to sever. Yet he did not flinch. He might rail against the ls- Bues presented to him, but at leaßt he had always the courage of his choice. There was none of the trappings of tragedy in the moment he had dreaded. The family was gathered as usual In the dining room. Roman had himself in hand once more. Mark stopped in the doorway. For the life of him he could not speak the commonplace Balutatlon on his lips. He saw Kazla steal quietly from the room. But. he knew that she stayed within hearing. It was Roman who broke the sllenc*. ''You haf eaten?" "At the saloon." "Zo? You shouldt haf como. Ve vaited." I Piotr snarled: "You've'got a nerve to come back here at all." "Plotr," Roman reproved him quietly, "It'lss not for you." 'Qf couraa," Mark addressed Roman, V- « "yoo Want mo to go. I mpptm fN blame me. I blame iiij —lf nathov— I don't know wbjr. It—lt Isn't fair! It Isn't my fault you've been fired. Too ought to aee that. And I'd ba a fool not to take your Job, now that you can't have It any more." "Hub!" sneered Plotr. "You're glad enough of the chance, too." "Plotr!" The boy subsided. Roman went on: "It las not your fault I am oldt, no. But —It tss better you go. You haf mine chop. It Ua not goot for me to see unt hear of the vork of strong men »en 1 am not strong." "I will go tonight." "I haf not zaldt tonight. Ven you haf another gopt place to'go." "I will go tonight." "Well—good b/. then," said Plot* promptly. Mark waited a moment longer. But there wan really nothing mora to bo Buld. Ho went upstairs. His carpetbag packed—a brief task —he waited. And this waß hard— I" f'i>■ t.. •v■ •.j i^.»t Enough of the Chance." hard! Now there was at least the sem blance of a struggle. It almost shook him because vdth that went —Kazla. Instinct, brushing aside the mist of false teachings, In terpreted anew and aright the passion he had thought Ignoble, warned him to take this whole love while yet there was time. "Almost thou persuadest me. . . ." But not altogether, His desire —to survive, to win his place among the masters —still held the whip, kept him facing doggedly his straight road ahead. And, as If Jealous of any rival for supremacy over him, It claimed the pale lesser love. He could &ot se« the unlettered Huuky girl sharing that conquest. When she came, she stood to r a mo ment at the door, a questior and s great fear In her eyes. "I —I was watting for you," he said. "I knew. But I couldn't come any sooner." Her glance fell to the bag, ross again. She walked slowly toward him. He rose. Scarcely an arm's length away, she halted. Suddenly tears stood In her eyes. She put out both hands In a quick pleading gesture. "Don't go!" "They don't want me to stay, Kazla." "That's because you've taken his Job, Don't take it!" Ho shook his head. "You don't un derstand. There's no reasou why I shouldn't take It." "lie's your friend." "You don't understand," he repeated wearily. "If I could give him bach his Job by not taking it, I'd not taka It." He believed that then! He b4K gan again the old reasoning. "But I couldn't. Some one else would get It—that's all. Isn't it better for rns to have it than a stranger? Roman.'" he concluded bitterly, "ought to see It that way." "I know there isn't any good reason. Hut—l couldn't go with you, if yoa took it." She couldn't go with him! His eyes fell miserably. "Oh, no!" With one swift step she bridged the space between them, throwing her arms around his neck. "Oh, no! I didn't mean that. I'd go with you, whatever .you did. I'd have to. I couldn't stay here, when you'ra gone—go back to thtiway It was be fore you came. 1 couldn't stand that." A little shudder passed over her. "You can't understand/.' he cried again. "I've tried —" "I know. I've seen it troubling yoa, though I didn't know what it was. B«f —can't you see? I'm the reason You'll never find any one that can lo>a you like I can. It's all I know—U love —to love you. I don't ask much. But I can give—everything." With a force that must have hurt her he freed himself from her clasp and sank shaking Into the chair, coh ering his face with his hands. For a breath the scales quivered. Then: "Kazla."' he whispered, "I haven't been square with you. There's —there'a another girl—" * "There is—And you—'' After what seemed like a long silence he dared to glance up to sea how she had taken It. By then shs had crept to the threshold and waa looking back at him. About her lipa a dazed, foolish little smile was plaj* Ing. And her eyes were the eyes at one who had Just seen a great horro*. When be looked up again, she waa gone. An hour later —how he could not have told —he found himself wander ing in the streets, carrying his anolsoA carpetbag. pro BE CONTINUKEU