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- Стр. 1313/1581
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She
went
from
railroad
executives
to
wealthy
shippers
to
Washington
officials
and
back
to
the
railroad
—
by
cab
,
by
phone
,
by
wire
—
pursuing
a
trail
of
half
-
uttered
hints
.
The
trail
approached
its
end
when
she
heard
the
pinch
-
lipped
voice
of
a
public
relations
woman
in
a
Washington
office
,
saying
resentfully
over
the
telephone
wire
,
"
Well
,
after
all
,
it
is
a
matter
of
opinion
whether
wheat
is
essential
to
a
nation
’
s
welfare
—
there
are
those
of
more
progressive
views
who
feel
that
the
soybean
is
,
perhaps
,
of
far
greater
value
"
—
and
then
,
by
noon
,
she
stood
in
the
middle
of
her
office
,
knowing
that
the
freight
cars
intended
for
the
wheat
of
Minnesota
had
been
sent
,
instead
,
to
carry
the
soybeans
from
the
Louisiana
swamps
of
Kip
’
s
Ma
’
s
project
.
The
first
story
of
the
Minnesota
disaster
appeared
in
the
newspapers
three
days
later
.
It
reported
that
the
farmers
who
had
waited
in
the
streets
of
Lakewood
for
six
days
,
with
no
place
to
store
their
wheat
and
no
trains
to
carry
it
,
had
demolished
the
local
courthouse
,
the
mayor
’
s
home
and
the
railroad
station
.
Then
the
stories
vanished
abruptly
and
the
newspapers
kept
silent
,
then
began
to
print
admonitions
urging
people
not
to
believe
unpatriotic
rumors
.
While
the
flour
mills
and
grain
markets
of
the
country
were
screaming
over
the
phones
and
the
telegraph
wires
,
sending
pleas
to
New
York
and
delegations
to
Washington
,
while
strings
of
freight
cars
from
random
corners
of
the
continent
were
crawling
like
rusty
caterpillars
across
the
map
in
the
direction
of
Minnesota
—
the
wheat
and
hope
of
the
country
were
waiting
to
perish
along
an
empty
track
,
under
the
unchanging
green
lights
of
signals
that
called
for
motion
to
trains
that
were
not
there
.
At
the
communication
desks
of
Taggart
Transcontinental
,
a
small
crew
kept
calling
for
freight
cars
,
repeating
,
like
the
crew
of
a
sinking
ship
,
an
S
.
O
.
S
,
that
remained
unheard
.
There
were
freight
cars
held
loaded
for
months
in
the
yards
of
the
companies
owned
by
the
friends
of
pull
-
peddlers
,
who
ignored
the
frantic
demands
to
unload
the
cars
and
release
them
.
"
You
can
tell
that
railroad
to
—
"
followed
by
untransmissible
words
,
was
the
message
of
the
Smather
Brothers
of
Arizona
in
answer
to
the
S
.
O
.
S
.
of
New
York
.
In
Minnesota
,
they
were
seizing
cars
from
every
siding
,
from
the
Mesabi
Range
,
from
the
ore
mines
of
Paul
Larkin
where
the
cars
had
stood
waiting
for
a
dribble
of
iron
.
They
were
pouring
wheat
into
ore
cars
,
into
coal
cars
,
into
boarded
stock
cars
that
went
spilling
thin
gold
trickles
along
the
track
as
they
clattered
off
.
They
were
pouring
wheat
into
passenger
coaches
,
over
seats
,
racks
and
fixtures
,
to
send
it
off
,
to
get
it
moving
,
even
if
it
went
moving
into
track
-
side
ditches
in
the
sudden
crash
of
breaking
springs
,
in
the
explosions
set
off
by
burning
journal
boxes
.
They
fought
for
movement
,
for
movement
with
no
thought
of
destination
,
for
movement
as
such
,
like
a
paralytic
under
a
stroke
,
struggling
in
wild
,
stiff
,
incredulous
jerks
against
the
realization
that
movement
was
suddenly
impossible
.
There
were
no
other
railroads
:
James
Taggart
had
killed
them
;
there
were
no
boats
on
the
Lakes
:
Paul
Larkin
had
destroyed
them
.
There
was
only
the
single
line
of
rail
and
a
net
of
neglected
highways
.
The
trucks
and
wagons
of
waiting
farmers
started
trickling
blindly
down
the
roads
,
with
no
maps
,
no
gas
,
no
feed
for
horses
—
moving
south
,
south
toward
the
vision
of
flour
mills
awaiting
them
somewhere
,
with
no
knowledge
of
the
distances
ahead
,
but
with
the
knowledge
of
death
behind
them
—
moving
,
to
collapse
on
the
roads
,
in
the
gullies
,
in
the
breaks
of
rotted
bridges
.
One
farmer
was
found
,
half
a
mile
south
of
the
wreck
of
his
truck
,
lying
dead
in
a
ditch
,
face
down
,
still
clutching
a
sack
of
wheat
on
his
shoulders
.
Then
rain
clouds
burst
over
the
prairies
of
Minnesota
;
the
rain
went
eating
the
wheat
into
rot
at
the
waiting
railroad
stations
;
it
went
hammering
the
piles
spilled
along
the
roads
,
washing
gold
kernels
into
the
soil
.
The
men
in
Washington
were
last
to
be
reached
by
the
panic
.
They
watched
,
not
the
news
from
Minnesota
,
but
the
precarious
balance
of
their
friendships
and
commitments
;
they
weighed
,
not
the
fate
of
the
harvest
,
but
the
unknowable
result
of
unpredictable
emotions
in
unthinking
men
of
unlimited
power
.
They
waited
,
they
evaded
all
pleas
,
they
declared
,
"
Oh
,
ridiculous
,
there
’
s
nothing
to
worry
about
!
Those
Taggart
people
have
always
moved
that
wheat
on
schedule
,
they
’
ll
find
some
way
to
move
it
!
"
