Heed the Thunder Read Online Free PDF

completed the locking-up and sat down on the corner of Barkley’s desk, casually slipping off the black-satin half-sleeves from his shirt.
    “Kind of a quiet day,” he remarked, in his crisp nasal voice.
    “Well”—Barkley pursed his lips—“not too quiet, Alf. Did you hear how I made out with Edie?”
    Alfred Courtland nodded, trying to keep from frowning. “That’s a pretty sorry school, isn’t it? It’s miles from nowhere, and I hear they’ve got a rather tough gang of big boys.”
    “It’s the only thing I could get for her this late,” Barkley explained. “I don’t have any connection in any of the other schools that are open.”
    “I wasn’t criticizing,” said Courtland. “It was just that—”
    “Edie’ll be all right,” said Barkley. “She’s a Fargo. A real one.”
    “What does that district pay?”
    “Twenty-five a month and found. Of course, those Rooshans and Polacks ain’t like boarding with white people. But she can stand it for a year. Maybe we can do better by her next time.”
    He struck a match to his cob pipe and held it while Alfred hastily packed his Meerschaum. He did not approve of the little silver-rimmed Meerschaum. It looked foreign. Still, Alfred had always had it, as far back as he could remember, and he couldn’t be expected to throw it away.
    Courtland exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Will Edie discount her warrants with us?”
    “Will she—will she discount her warrants with us? Why, naturally! Why else would I…” Barkley left the sentence unfinished.
    “Ten per cent?”
    “N-no,” the banker hesitated. “Twenty. School warrants are pretty shaky in that district, Alf. You know they are, yourself.”
    “Yes.”
    “And Edie had to have the school. It was the only one she could get, and she had to get it through me. I thought twenty was pretty light considering the circumstances.”
    “I suppose you’re right,” said Alfred Courtland.
    He wished he had not felt impelled to discuss the matter. He knew he was not concealing his distaste, and he knew that the banker was extremely sensitive to criticism. But he could not help it. He had been a remittance man until, on a sudden surge of ambition, he had come to Verdon. He knew what real rottenness was. And, yet, he could never understand the attitude of these people toward each other. You might steal from a relative—he had done that—but to bilk one to his face and consider it good business was beyond his ken.
    “Yes, sir,” said Courtland, trying to make his voice warm, “I guess you’re right, Bark. Edie shouldn’t kick on twenty, and you’ve got the bank to think of. The bank comes first.”
    “That’s the way I look at it,” said Barkley.
    “And you’re dead right, too. By the way, have you thought any more about that other matter?”
    “What other matter?”
    “Well…you know…that Omaha deal.”
    Barkley drummed on his desk. He shook his head.
    “I guess we’ll drop that. For this year, anyhow. It looks like a pretty tight winter, and we may need all the hard cash we can lay hands on. I don’t see anything that looks good to me, anyway. Cattle’s off. Hogs are off. Corn’s off…”
    “You mentioned selling short.”
    “Yes, I guess I did,” drawled the banker. “But if everyone’s going short, where are you?…No, I can’t see it, Alf. Maybe next year we can swing it.”
    Courtland nodded, quietly, knowing the futility of argument. The conversation referred to a secret project which he and Barkley had discussed for several months past. The banker had been contemplating an expedition into the stock market with Courtland acting as his agent. He liked to keep a tight personal rein on the bank’s affairs and so could not leave town; and, anyway, he was afraid that his absence might arouse unwelcome conjecture. But Courtland could safely go to Omaha, and he had been thinking seriously of sending him. He could not say, now, just why he had changed his mind. He had been playing the