Further Developments

: Ridgway Of Montana

While Harley had been in no way responsible for Pelton's murderous attack

upon Yesler, public opinion held him to account. The Pinkertons who had, up

till this time, been employed at the mines, were now moved to the hotel to

be ready for an emergency. A special train was held in readiness to take

the New Yorker out of the State in the event that the stockman should die.

Meanwhile, the harassing attacks of Ridgway continued. Through
another

judge than Purcell, the absurd injunction against working the Diamond King,

the Mary K, and the Marcus Daly had been dissolved, but even this advantage

had been neutralized by the necessity of giving back to the enemy the

Taurus and the New York, of which he had just possessed himself. All his

life he had kept a wheather-eye upon the impulsive and fickle public. There

were times when its feeling could be abused with impunity, and other times

when this must be respected. Reluctantly, Harley gave the word for the

withdrawal of his men from the territory gained. Ridgway pushed his

advantage home and secured an injunction, not only against the working, but

against the inspection of the Copper King and the Jim Hill. The result of

the Consolidated move had been in effect to turn over, temporarily, its two

rich mines to be looted by the pirate, and to make him very much stronger

than before with his allies, the unions. By his own imprudence, Harley had

made a bad situation worse, and delivered himself, with his hands tied,

into the power of the enemy.



In the days of turmoil that followed, Waring Ridgway's telling blows scored

once and again. The morning after the explosion, he started a relief fund

in his paper, the Sun, for the families of the dead miners, contributing

two thousand dollars himself. He also insisted that the Consolidated pay

damages to the bereaved families to the extent of twenty thousand dollars

for each man killed. The town rang with his praises. Mesa had always been

proud of his success; had liked the democratic spirit of him that led him

to mix on apparently equal terms with his working men, and had backed him

in his opposition to the trust because his plucky and unscrupulous fight

had been, in a measure, its fight. But now it idolized him. He was the

buffer between it and the trust, fighting the battles of labor against the

great octopus of Broadway, and beating it to a standstill. He was the Moses

destined to lead the working man out of the Egypt of his discontent. Had he

not maintained the standard of wages and forced the Consolidated to do the

same? Had he not declared an eight-hour day, and was not the trust almost

ready to do this also, forced by the impetus his example had given the

unions? So Ridgway's agents whispered, and the union leaders, whom he had

bought, took up the burden of their tale and preached it both in private

talk and in their speeches.



In an attempt to stem the rising tide of denunciation that was spreading

from Mesa to the country at large, Harley announced an eight hour day and

an immense banquet to all the Consolidated employees in celebration of the

occasion. Ten thousand men sat down to the long tables, but when one of the

speakers injudiciously mentioned the name of Ridgway, there was steady

cheering for ten minutes. It was quite plain that the miners gave him the

credit for having forced the Consolidated to the eight-hour day.



The verdict of the coroner's jury was that Vance Edwards and the other

deceased miners had come to their death at the hands of the foreman,

Michael Donleavy, at the instigation of Simon Harley. True bills were at

once drawn up by the prosecuting attorney of Mesa County, an official

elected by Ridgway, charging Harley and Donleavy with conspiracy, resulting

in the murder of Vance Edwards. The billionaire furnished bail for himself

and foreman, treating the indictments merely as part of the attacks of the

enemy.



The tragedy in the Taurus brought to the surface a bitterness that had

hitherto not been apparent in the contest between the rival copper

interests. The lines of division became more sharply drawn, and every

business man in Mesa was forced to declare himself on one side or the

other. Harley scattered detectives broadcast and imported five hundred

Pinkertons to meet any emergency that might arise. The spies of the

Consolidated were everywhere, gathering evidence against the Mesa

Ore-producing Company, its conduct of the senatorial campaign, its judges,

and its supporters Criminal indictments flew back and forth thick as

snowflakes in a Christmas storm.



It began to be noticed that an occasional foreman, superintendent, or

mining engineer was slipping from the employ of Ridgway to that of the

trust, carrying secrets and evidence that would be invaluable later in the

courts. Everywhere the money of the Consolidated, scattered lavishly where

it would do the most good, attempted to sap the loyalty of the followers of

the other candidates. Even Eaton was approached with the offer of a bribe.



But Ridgway's potent personality had built up an esprit de corps not

easily to be broken. The adventurers gathered to his side were, for the

most part, bound to him by ties personal in their nature. They were

financial fillibusters, pledged to stand or fall together, with an interest

in their predatory leader's success that was not entirely measurable in

dollars and cents. Nor was that leader the man to allow the organization he

had builded with such care to become disintegrated while he slept. His

alert eye and cheery smile were everywhere, instilling confidence in such

as faltered, and dread in those contemplating defection.



He harassed his rival with an audacity that was almost devilish in its

unexpected ingenuity. For the first time in his life Simon Harley, the town

back on the defensive by a combination of circumstances engineered by a

master brain, knew what it was to be checkmated. He had hot the least doubt

of ultimate victory, but the tentative success of the brazen young

adventurer, were gall and wormwood to his soul. He had made money his god,

had always believed it would buy anything worth while except life, but this

Western buccaneer had taught him it could not purchase the love of a woman

nor the immediate defeat of a man so well armed as Waring Ridgway. In

truth, though Harley stuck at nothing, his success in accomplishing the

destruction of this thorn in his side was no more appreciable than had been

that of Hobart. The Westerner held his own and more, the while he robbed

the great trust of its ore under cover of the courts.



In the flush of success, Ridgway, through his lieutenant, Eaton, came to

Judge Purcell asking that a receiver be appointed for the Consolidated

Supply Company, a subsidiary branch of the trust, on the ground that its

affairs were not being properly administered. The Supply Company had paid

dividends ranging from fifteen to twenty-five per cent for many years, but

Ridgway exercised his right as a stockholder to ask for a receivership. In

point of fact, he owned, in the name of Eaton, only one-tenth of one per

cent of the stock, but it was enough to serve. For Purcell was a bigoted

old Missourian, as courageous and obstinate as perfect health and ignorance

could make him. He was quite innocent of any legal knowledge, his own rule

of law being to hit a Consolidated head whenever he saw one. Lawyers might

argue themselves black in the face without affecting his serenity or his

justice.



Purcell granted the application, as well as a restraining order against the

payment of dividends until further notice, and appointed Eaton receiver

over the protests of the Consolidated lawyers.



Ridgway and Eaton left the court-room together, jubilant over their

success. They dined at a restaurant, and spent the evening at the

ore-producing company's offices, discussing ways and means. When they had

finished, his chief followed Eaton to the doors, an arm thrown

affectionately round his shoulder.



"Steve, we're going to make a big killing. I was never so sure of anything

in my life as that we shall beat Simon Harley at his own game. We're bound

to win. We've got to win."



"I wish I were as sure as you."



"It's hard pounding does it, my boy. We'll drive him out of the Montana

copper-fields yet. We'll show him there is one little corner of the U. S.

where Simon Harley's orders don't go as the last word."



"He has a hundred dollars to your one."



"And I have youth and mining experience and the inside track, as well as

stancher friends than he ever dreamed of," laughed Ridgway, clapping the

other on the back. "Well, good night, Steve. Pleasant dreams, old man."



The boyish secretary shook hands warmly. "You're a MAN, chief. If anybody

can pull us through it will be you."



Triumphant confidence rang in the other's answering laugh. "You bet I can,

Steve,"



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