The Forbidden Trail | Page 9

and
Emil and Oscar is working."

"That's only part of it, with father, anyhow," Roger exclaimed. "Of
course, he's ambitious for me, but, you see, he has these ideas inside of
him that have to come out. He'd have done it if I'd never been born."
"He does it so's his children gets ahead. Every married man's that way.
Otherwise, why work?" This was Emil's contribution.
"All right," Ole pushed on. "Anyhow first thing I know I'm working for
John Moore and he's getting ahead while I'm staying in the same old
place, same old pay. And now listen. Already, when he gets ahead he
changes. He gets bossy and ugly. Seems like a man can't be a boss
without changing, without getting so he curses the fellow he bosses.
And Emil and Oscar and Canute and I and all of us say, 'Here's Moore
getting ahead. His boy goes through the university on what Moore
makes us earn him. He has a hired girl for his wife. Now our children
can't go to the university on what Moore pays us. And our wives can't
keep a hired girl. Moore couldn't earn a cent without us. He's got to
give us enough of what we earn him so's we can live easy as he does.'"
"He don't live easy," retorted Roger. "You ought to see him. He works
harder than any of you, day and night, he never stops. My mother's
always complaining that she's lost him. And if he's your age, Ole, he
looks ten years older. I tell you carrying that factory is an awful load.
None of you folks could run it. You haven't got the brains. Father ought
to be the big earner. He's got the big brains."
"He can be the big earner," said Canute, a thin, slow speaking Dane, "if
he gives us a chance to save and enough time to enjoy a little every day
the sunshine and make gardens or bowl or play with our children.
That's what we came to America to get and, by God, we're going to get
it."
"He doesn't get it." Roger spoke with an unboyish sadness in his voice.
"That factory has him body and soul. I don't see what's the use."
Again there was silence. Then Ole said, "I guess the thing that makes
me hate him is how he's changed already. Look, Rog, I'm an American
citizen. I can't have any man curse me like I was a slave. No money can

pay for it. And one reason this strike's going to hang on till your father
gives in is because he don't know how to boss men. And they all hate
him."
"And envy him!" cried Roger.
"Sure," agreed Emil. "Envy him, we do. That's why we're striking."
"And supposing the factory goes out of business?" Roger asked. "You'll
all have to move away or take any old job. This is the only factory in
this town."
Ole laughed. "Your father's got you bluffed too, Rog."
"You'll see!" returned Roger, through his white teeth. "You'll see." And
he started abruptly for home.
The first week of September slipped into the second. The night of the
fourteenth, John Moore said at the supper table, "I bought the old
Preble place, to-day. Traded in this place for it, so we'll have that free
and clear out of the wreck."
"What do you mean?" faltered Mrs. Moore.
"What I say," he snapped. "The Russian contract has been canceled.
Money never was so tight in thirty years as it is now. Wolf says he
thinks there's a panic coming, and so does the bank. I can't borrow a
cent more. I'm through with my fling, Alice, and I'm going back to a
farm."
Roger choked a little on his tea. His mother said, unsteadily, "John dear,
if going back to the farm brings you back to me, I shall thank God for
the strike."
Roger's father scowled at his wife for a moment, then suddenly
something, perhaps the gentleness of her voice and the sweetness of her
eyes, caused him to push his chair back and going around to her side to
kneel with his head against her shoulder.

Roger slipped out of the room, blowing his nose. He went into the back
yard and sat scowling at the swimming pool until he heard the front
door click on his father, then he went to bed.
The following day when Roger went into the office, his father's coat
was hanging on the accustomed hook, but his father was not there.
Vaguely alarmed, Roger started a search through the factory. His alarm
proved unfounded, for he discovered his father in the little building that
had been the original factory. He looked up when Roger came in.
"Look, Rog," he said. "I'd