Burned Bridges, Bertrand W. Sinclair [ready to read books .txt] 📗

State Of

Delicious Brown Crispness. After That Carr Smoked A Cigar And Thompson A

Cigarette,  And Sophie Sat Between Them With The Old,  Quizzical Twinkle

In Her Eyes And A Smile Hovering About The Corners Of Her Mouth.

 

"Come Out And Let's Make The Round Of The Works,  You Two," Carr

Suggested At Last.

 

"You Go,  Wes," Sophie Said. "I Have Promised To Help A Struggling Young

Housewife With Some Sewing This Afternoon."

 

So They Set Forth,  Carr And Thompson,  On A Path Through The Woods Toward

Where The Donkey Engines Filled The Valley With Their Shrill Tootings

And The Shudder Of Their Mighty Labor. And As They Went,  Carr Talked.

 

"All This Was Virgin Forest When You Went Away," Said He. "The First Axe

Was Laid To The Timber A Year Ago Last Spring. I Want You To Take

Particular Notice Of This Timber. Isn't It Magnificent Stuff? We Are

Sending Out A Little Aeroplane Spruce,  Too. Not A Great Deal,  But Every

Little Helps."

 

It Was A Splendid Forest That They Traversed,  A Level Area Clothed With

Cedar And Spruce And Fir,  Lifting Brown Trunks Of Six And Seven-Foot

Girth To A Great Height. And In A Few Minutes They Came Upon A Falling

Gang At Work. Two Men On Their Springboards,  Six Feet Above The Ground,

Plying An Eight-Foot Saw. They Stood To Watch. Presently The Saw Ate

Through To The Undercut,  A Deep Notch On The Leaning Side,  And The Top

Chapter 26 (A Mark To Shoot At) Pg 165

Swayed,  Moved Slowly Earthward. The Sawyers Leaped From Their Narrow

Footing. One Cried "Tim-B-R-R-R." And The Tree Swept In A Great Arc,

Smiting The Earth With A Crash Of Breaking Boughs And The Thud Of An

Arrested Landslide.

 

Beyond That There Was A Logged Space,  Littered With Broken Branches,

Stumps,  Tops,  Cut With Troughs Plowed Deep In The Soil,  Where The

Donkey Had Skidded Out The Logs. And There Was The Engine Puffing And

Straining,  And The Steel Cables Running Away Among The Trees,  Spooling

Up On The Drums,  Whining And Whistling In The Iron Sheaves. It Was Like

War,  Thompson Thought,  That Purposeful Activity,  The Tremendous Forces

Harnessed And Obedient To Man--Only These Were Forces Yoked To Man's

Needs,  Not To His Destruction.

 

They Lingered Awhile Watching The Crew Work,  Chatted With Them In Spare

Moments. Then Carr Led Thompson Away Through The Woods Again,  And

Presently Took Him Across Another Stretch Of Stumps Where Men Were

Drilling And Blasting Out The Roots Of The Ravished Trees,  On To Fields

Where Grain And Grass And Root Crops Were Ripening In The September Sun,

And At Last By Another Cluster Of Houses To The Bank Of The River Again.

Here Carr Sat Down On A Log,  And Began To Fill A Pipe.

 

"Well," He Said,  "What Do You Think Of It?"

 

"For Eighteen Months' Work You Have Made An Astonishing Amount Of

Headway," Thompson Observed. "This Is Hard Land To Clear."

 

"Yes," Carr Admitted. "But It's Rich Land--All Alluvial,  This Whole

Valley. Anything That Can Be Grown In This Latitude Will Grow Like A

Village Scandal Here."

 

He Lighted His Pipe.

 

"I Tried High Living And It Didn't Agree With Me," Carr Said Abruptly.

"I Have Tried A Variety Of Things Since I Left The North,  And None Of

Them Has Seemed Worth While. I'm Not A Philanthropist. I Hate

Charitable Projects. They're So Damned Unscientific--Don't You Think

So?"

 

Thompson Nodded.

 

"You Know That About The Time You Left,  Discharged Soldiers Were

Beginning To Drift Back," Carr Continued. "Drift Is About The Word. The

Cripples Of War Will Be Taken Care Of. Their Case Is Obvious,  Too

Obvious To Be Overlooked Or Evaded. But There Are Returned Men Who Are

Not Cripples,  And Still Are Unfit For Military Duty. They Came Back To

Civilian Existence,  And A Lot Of Them Didn't Fit In. The Jobs They Could

Get Were Not The Jobs They Could Do. As More And More Of Them Came Home

The Problem Grew More And More Acute. It Is Still Acute,  And I Rather

Think It Will Grow More Acute Until The Crisis Comes With The End Of The

War And God Knows How Many Thousands Of Men Will Be Chucked Into Civil

Life,  Which Cannot Possibly Absorb Them Again As Things Are Going At

Present. It's A Problem. Public-Spirited Men Have Taken It Up. The

Government Took The Problem Of The Returned Soldier Into Consideration.

So Far As I Know They Are Still Considering It. The Provincial

Legislature Talked--And Has Done Nothing. The Dominion Government Has

Talked A Lot,  But Nothing More Than Temporary Measures Has Come Out Of

It. Nothing Practical. You Can't Feed Men With Promises Of After-The-War

Chapter 26 (A Mark To Shoot At) Pg 166

Reconstruction.

 

"All This Was Apparent To Me. So I Talked It Over With Sophie And One Or

Two Other Men Who Wanted To Do Something,  And We Talked To Returned

Soldiers. We Couldn't Do What It's The Business Of The Country To

Do--And May Perhaps Do When The Red Tape Is Finally Untangled. But We

Could Do Something,  With A Little Brains And Money And Initiative. So We

Went At It.

 

"I Formed A Joint Stock Company. We Secured All The Timber Limits In

This Valley. We Got Together A Little Group For A Start. They Were

Returned Men,  Some Physically Handicapped,  But Eager To Do Something For

Themselves. A Man With That Spirit Always Makes Good If He Gets A

Chance. We Put In Machinery And Gear,  Put Up A Small Sawmill For

Ourselves,  Tore Into The Logging Business,  Cleared Land,  Built Houses.

You See We Are Quite A Community. And We Are A Self-Supporting

Community. Some Of These Men Own Stock In The Company. Any Returned Men

Can Find A Place For Himself Here. There Is Room And Work And Security

And Ultimate Independence Here For Any Man Willing To Cooperate For The

Common Welfare. This Valley Runs For Miles. As Fast As The Land Is

Logged Off It Is Open For Soldier Entry. There Is Room Here For Five

Hundred Families. So You See There Is A Lot Of Scope.

 

"It Was In The Nature Of An Experiment. There Were People Who Sneered.

And It Is Working Out Well. There Is Not The Slightest Taint Of Charity

In It. If I Used A Lot Of Money That May Be A Long Time Coming Back To

Me That Is My Own Business. Everybody Here Pays His Own Way. All These

Men Needed Was Backing And Direction."

 

Carr Looked Away Across The Clearing. His Glance Swept The Houses,  And

Fields,  And The Distant Woods Where The Logging Crews Labored.

 

"And There Are Valleys And Valleys," He Said Thoughtfully; "When They

Are Cleared And Cultivated There Is Endless Room In Them For People Who

Want Elbow-Room,  Who Want To Live Without Riding On The Other Fellow's

Back.

 

"Better Get In With Us,  Wes," He Said Abruptly. "I'm Getting Old. It

Won't Be Long Before I Have To Quit. This Thing Will Need A Pilot For A

Long Time Yet. Men Will Always Have To Have A Leader. You Can Do Good

Here. Big Oaks,  You Know,  From Little Acorns. I Mean,  If This Project

Continues To Achieve Success,  It Might Blaze The Way For A National

Undertaking. We Said That A Country That Was Worth Living In Was Worth

Fighting For. We Are Liars And Cheats If We Do Not Make It So For Those

Who Did Our Fighting."

 

"I Wouldn't Mind Taking A Hand In This Game," Thompson Said. "But The

War Is Still On. If That Were Over--Well,  Yes,  Toba Valley Looks Good To

Me."

 

"You Aren't Out Of It For Good,  Then?"

 

Thompson Shook His Head.

 

Carr Put His Hand On Thompson's Shoulder. "Ah,  Well," He Said. "It Won't

Be Long Now. You'll Be Back. You Can Put On An Aerial Mail Service For

Chapter 26 (A Mark To Shoot At) Pg 167

Us,  As Your First Undertaking."

 

He Chuckled,  And They Left Their Log And Strolled Back Toward The House.

 

 

"Come And I'll Show You What The Valley Looks Like,  Wes," Sophie Said To

Him,  When They Had Finished Dinner,  And Carr Had His Nose Buried In Mail

Just That Evening Arrived.

 

She Led Him A Hundred Yards Upstream To Where A Footbridge Slung Upon

Steel Cables Spanned The Toba,  Crossed That And A Little Flat On The

North Side,  And Climbed Up The Flank Of A Slide-Scarred Hill Until She

Came Out On A Little Plateau.

 

"Look," She Waved Her Hand,  Panting A Little From The Steepness Of The

Climb.

 

Five Hundred Feet Below,  The Valley Of The Toba Spread Its Timbered

Greenness,  Through Which Looped In Sweeping Curves The Steel-Gray Of The

River. In A Great Bend Immediately Beneath Them Lay The Houses Of The

Settlement,  Facing Upon The Stream. Farther Along Were Isolated

Homesteads Which He Had Not Seen. Back Of These Spread Little Gardens,

And The Green Square Of Cultivated Fields,  And Beyond In Greater Expanse

The Stump-Dotted Land That Was Still In The Making.

 

The Smoke Of The Donkey-Engines Was Vanished,  Fires Grown Cold With The

End Of The Day's Work. But Upriver And Down The Spoil Of Axe And Saw Lay

In Red Booms Along The Bunk. He Could Mark The Place Where He Had Stood

That Afternoon And Watched A Puffing Yarder Bunt A String Of Forty-Foot

Logs Into The Booming-Ground. He Could See Figures About In The Gardens,

And The Shrill Voices And Laughter Of Children Echoed Up To Them On The

Hill.

 

"It Is A Great View,  And There Is More In It Than Meets The Eye,"

Thompson Said. "Eh,  Little Woman? The Greatest War Of All,  The Biggest

Struggle. One That Never Ends. Man Struggling To Subdue His Environment

To His Needs."

 

Sophie Smiled Understandingly. She Looked Over The Valley With A Wistful

Air.

 

"Did You Ever Read 'The Sons Of Martha'?" She Asked. Do You Remember

These Lines:

 

"'Not As A Ladder To Reach High Heaven,

  Not As An Altar To Any Creed,

But Simple Service Simply Given

  To His Own Kind In Their Common Need.'"

 

"It Is A Noble Mark To Shoot At," Thompson Said.

 

He Fell Silent. Sophie Went On After A Minute.

 

"Dad Said He Was Going Back To First Principles When He Began This.

There Are Men Here Who Have Found Economic Salvation And Self-Respect,

Who Think He Is Greater Than Any General. I'm Proud Of Dad. He Wanted To

Do Something. What He Has Accomplished Makes All My Puttering About At