The Fortune of the Landrays by Vaughn Kester

Author:Vaughn Kester [Kester, Vaughn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-08-27T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY

TOM BENSON, a younger brother of old Jacob Benson had emigrated to Ohio some time in the early twenties. He was a superior sort of a mechanic, and when Newton Bendy established his iron works, Tom sought and found employment with him.

He was an excellent workman, acquainted with all branches of his trade; and Bently did not disdain to acknowledge that his foreman knew more of the practical conduct of the shops than he did himself.

“But don’t tell Tom Benson I said so!” he always added, when he had been dwelling on the Yankee mechanic’s skill and judgment. “He don’t need any boosting from me! Why, I expect he could go to Carthage to-morrow, and get double the wages I’m paying him!” But Tom Benson had no idea of going to Carthage, or anywhere else. Yet if Bently supposed that he was not aware of his own value, he was grievously mistaken in his man.

This was proved one day by his leaving his bench and walking into the office with his coat on his arm, where without waste of words he coolly proposed to Mr. Bently that he take him into partnership.

Bently, when his first surprise had somewhat abated and he had found words which he deemed adequate to the occasion, intimated that he would see him damned long before he would even vaguely entertain such an idea; whereat Tom Benson turned on his heel, merely remarking in an offhand way:

“Well, you know where to find me when you want me!”

“I sha’n’. want you, I’m done with you, Tom!” said Bently ungraciously enough.

“Oh, no, you ain’t!” retorted the mechanic, slipping into his coat. “You’ll want me the worst kind of a way before the month’s up! Who’ve you got to set them engines you’re making in the shops?”

“What’s to hinder me from getting out and doing that job myself?” demanded Bently.

Benson laughed in his face.

“Maybe you think I can’t!” cried Mr. Bendy.

“I ain’t said it,” answered Benson briefly, and with that he walked out of the office.

At the end of just two weeks, work was at a standstill in the shops, and on the two most important contracts Bendy had ever been able to secure. Then he sent for Tom Benson. His messenger—it was Williams, the bookkeeper—found the mechanic in his room at his boarding-house. He was sitting by his open window in his shirtsleeves, his elbows on his knees, his chin sunk in his palms, and the stem of a short black pipe clinched between his teeth. He heard Williams quietly, then he said:

“Tell Bendy he knows where to find me when he wants to see me. I sha’n’. stir out of here for two weeks more.”

This word being conveyed to Bendy, he swore he would close the shops rather than again hold any communication with the obdurate mechanic.

“Me go to him, when it’s been me paying him wages? I guess when his money’s gone he’ll think differently about who’s to do the running back and forth! I’ll

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