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Then
the
boys
in
Washington
granted
subsidies
to
the
oil
operators
,
but
not
all
of
the
oil
operators
had
friends
in
Washington
,
and
there
followed
a
situation
which
no
one
cared
to
examine
too
closely
or
to
discuss
.
Andrew
Stockton
had
been
in
the
sort
of
position
which
most
of
the
businessmen
envied
.
The
rush
to
convert
to
coal
had
descended
upon
his
shoulders
like
a
weight
of
gold
:
he
had
kept
his
plant
working
around
the
clock
,
running
a
race
with
next
winter
’
s
blizzards
,
casting
parts
for
coal
-
burning
stoves
and
furnaces
.
There
were
not
many
dependable
foundries
left
;
he
had
become
one
of
the
main
pillars
supporting
the
cellars
and
kitchens
of
the
country
.
The
pillar
collapsed
without
warning
.
Andrew
Stockton
announced
that
he
was
retiring
,
closed
his
plant
and
vanished
.
He
left
no
word
on
what
he
wished
to
be
done
with
the
plant
or
whether
his
relatives
had
the
right
to
reopen
it
.
There
still
were
cars
on
the
roads
of
the
country
,
but
they
moved
like
travelers
in
the
desert
,
who
ride
past
the
warning
skeletons
of
horses
bleached
by
the
sun
:
they
moved
past
the
skeletons
of
cars
that
had
collapsed
on
duty
and
had
been
left
in
the
ditches
by
the
side
of
the
road
.
People
were
not
buying
cars
any
longer
,
and
the
automobile
factories
were
closing
.
But
there
were
men
still
able
to
get
oil
,
by
means
of
friendships
that
nobody
cared
to
question
.
These
men
bought
cars
at
any
price
demanded
.
Lights
flooded
the
mountains
of
Colorado
from
the
great
windows
of
the
plant
,
where
the
assembly
belts
of
Lawrence
Hammond
poured
trucks
and
cars
to
the
sidings
of
Taggart
Transcontinental
.
The
word
that
Lawrence
Hammond
had
retired
came
when
least
expected
,
brief
and
sudden
like
the
single
stroke
of
a
bell
in
a
heavy
stillness
.
A
committee
of
local
citizens
was
now
broadcasting
appeals
on
the
radio
,
begging
Lawrence
Hammond
,
wherever
he
was
,
to
give
them
permission
to
reopen
his
plant
.
There
was
no
answer
.
She
had
screamed
when
Ellis
Wyatt
went
;
she
had
gasped
when
Andrew
Stockton
retired
;
when
she
heard
that
Lawrence
Hammond
had
quit
,
she
asked
impassively
,
"
Who
’
s
next
?
"
"
No
,
Miss
Taggart
,
I
can
’
t
explain
it
,
"
the
sister
of
Andrew
Stockton
had
told
her
on
her
last
trip
to
Colorado
,
two
months
ago
.
"
He
never
said
a
word
to
me
and
I
don
’
t
even
know
whether
he
’
s
dead
or
living
,
same
as
Ellis
Wyatt
.
No
,
nothing
special
had
happened
the
day
before
he
quit
.
I
remember
only
that
some
man
came
to
see
him
on
that
last
evening
.
A
stranger
I
’
d
never
seen
before
.
They
talked
late
into
the
night
—
when
I
went
to
sleep
,
the
light
was
still
burning
in
Andrew
’
s
study
.
"
People
were
silent
in
the
towns
of
Colorado
.
Dagny
had
seen
the
way
they
walked
in
the
streets
,
past
their
small
drugstores
,
hardware
stores
and
grocery
markets
:
as
if
they
hoped
that
the
motions
of
their
jobs
would
save
them
from
looking
ahead
at
the
future
.
She
,
too
,
had
walked
through
those
streets
,
trying
not
to
lift
her
head
,
not
to
see
the
ledges
of
sooted
rock
and
twisted
steel
,
which
had
been
the
Wyatt
oil
fields
.
They
could
be
seen
from
many
of
the
towns
;
when
she
had
looked
ahead
,
she
had
seen
them
in
the
distance
.
One
well
,
on
the
crest
of
the
hill
,
was
still
burning
.
Nobody
had
been
able
to
extinguish
it
.
She
had
seen
it
from
the
streets
:
a
spurt
of
fire
twisting
convulsively
against
the
sky
,
as
if
trying
to
tear
loose
.
She
had
seen
it
at
night
,
across
the
distance
of
a
hundred
clear
,
black
miles
,
from
the
window
of
a
train
:
a
small
,
violent
flame
,
waving
in
the
wind
.
People
called
it
Wyatt
’
s
Torch
.
