Wacker Neuson Weidemann Wheel

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Wacker Neuson Weidemann Wheel Loaders 3070 CX60 CX80 Repair Manual &
Parts Manual 2009 EN FR DESize: 136 MBFormat: PDFLanguage: English,
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CX60 Weidemann Wheel LoadersWacker Neuson 3070 CX80 Weidemann Wheel
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Weidemann Wheel Loaders 3070 CX60 CX80 Repair Manual 07-2009
1000245278 ENWacker Neuson Weidemann Wheel Loaders 3070 CX80 Spare
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 CHAPTER XXVI.
In which Miss Sudie Adopts the Socratic Method.

When Miss Sudie left him Col. Barksdale again sent for his son and
told him of that young woman's unreasonable determination.
"I expected that, father, and am not at all surprised," said the young
man.
"Why, my son? Had you talked the matter over with her?"
"No. But I know Sudie too well to expect her to give up her faith in
Bob while he is under a cloud and in trouble too. She has a mighty
good head on her shoulders; but what's a woman's head worth
when her heart pulls the other way? She overrides her own reason
as coolly as if it were worth just nothing at all, and puts everybody
else's out of the way with the utmost indifference. I know her of old.
She used to take my part that way whenever I got into a boyish
scrape, and before she had done with it she always convinced me,
along with everybody else, that I had done nothing to be ashamed
of. The fact is, father, I like that in Sudie. She's the truest little
woman I ever saw, and she sticks to her friends like mutton gravy to
the roof of your mouth," said Billy, unable, even at such a time as
this, to restrain his passion for strange metaphors.
"The trait is a noble one, certainly," said the old gentleman; "but for
that very reason, if for no other, we must do what we can to keep
her from sacrificing herself to a noble faith in an unworthy man.
Don't you think so?"
"Without doubt. But what can we do? You say you do not feel free to
control her."
"We can at least do our duty. I have talked with her, and now I want
you to do the same. She will not shun the conversation, I think, for
she is a brave girl."
"I will see what I can do, father," said the young man. "Possibly I
may persuade her to let the matter rest where it is, for the present
at least, and even that will be something gained."
Col. Barksdale was right in thinking that Miss Sudie would not seek
to avoid a conversation with Billy. On the contrary she wished
especially to say something to this young gentleman, and for that
very purpose she sought him in the office. He and she had been
brought up as brother and sister, and there was no feeling of
restraint between them now that they were grown man and woman.
"Cousin Billy," she said, sitting down near him, "I want to talk with
you about Robert. I want to remind you, if you will let me, of your
duty to him."
"What do you conceive my duty to be in the case, Sudie?" asked
Billy.
"To defend him," said Miss Sudie.
"But how can I do that, Sudie, in face of the facts?"
"You believe then that Robert Pagebrook, whom you know
thoroughly, has done the dishonorable things laid to his charge?"
"Well," said Billy, feeling himself hardly prepared for this kind of
attack, "I confess I should never have thought him capable of doing
such things."
"Why would you never have thought him capable of doing them,
Cousin Billy?"
"O well, because he always seemed to be such an honorable fellow,"
said Billy.
"You did believe him honorable, then?" asked this young female
Socrates.
"Certainly; you know that Sudie."
"On what did you base that belief, Cousin Billy?"
"Why, on his way of doing things, on my knowledge of him, of
course;" replied Billy.
"Well, then, is that knowledge of him of no value now?" asked Sudie.
"How do you mean?"
"I mean does your knowledge of Robert weigh nothing now? Are you
ready to believe on imperfect evidence, that Robert Pagebrook, who
you know was an honorable man, is not now an honorable man?
Doesn't his character weigh anything with you? Do you believe his
character has changed, or do you think it possible that he simulated
that character and did it so perfectly as to deceive us all? Doesn't it
seem more probable that there is some mistake about this business?
In short, how can you believe Robert guilty of a thing which you
know very well he wouldn't do for his head? If you 'wouldn't have
believed it,' why do you believe it?"
Mr. Billy was stunned. He had been prepared for tears. He had
expected to find in Sudie an unreasoning faith. He had looked for an
obstinate determination on her part to adhere to her purpose. But
for this kind of illogical logic he had made no preparation whatever.
It had never entered his head that Miss Sudie would seriously
undertake to argue the matter. The evidence against Robert he had
accepted as unquestionable, and he had not expected Miss Sudie to
question it in this way.
"But, Cousin Sudie, you overlook the fact that Robert has confessed
the very thing which you say is unlikely."
"No; he has not confessed anything of the sort. Indeed he seems to
have carefully avoided doing so. In his letter to Uncle Carter he
merely says, 'I can offer neither denial nor explanation of the facts
alleged against me.' To me he only says, 'a stain is upon my name.'
He nowhere says, 'I am guilty.'"
"But, Sudie," said Billy, "if he a'n't guilty, why can't he offer either
'denial or explanation'?"
"That I do not know; but I don't find it half as hard to believe that
there may be good reasons for that, as to believe that an honorable
man—a man whom we both know to be an honorable one—has
done a dishonorable thing."
"But, Sudie, why didn't Bob borrow the money of father or of me, if
he honestly couldn't pay? He knew we would gladly lend it to him."
"I'm glad you mentioned that. If Robert had wanted to swindle
anybody, how much easier it would have been for him to write to
you or Uncle Carter, saying he couldn't pay and asking you to take
up his protested draft for him. He knew you would have done it, and
he could then have accomplished his purpose without any exposure.
Almost any excuse would have satisfied you or Uncle Carter, and so
the thing would have gone on for years. Wouldn't he have done
exactly that, Cousin Billy, if he had wanted to swindle anybody? Men
don't often covet a bad name for its own sake."
"Clearly, Sudie, I am getting the worst of this argument. You are a
better sophist than I ever gave you credit for being. But it's hard to
believe that black is white. I'll tell you what I'll do, though, Sudie. I'll
do my very best to believe that there is some sort of faint possibility
that facts a'n't facts, and hold myself, as nearly as I can, in readiness
to believe that something may turn up in Bob's favor. If anything
were to turn up I'd be as glad of it as anybody."
"But I'm not satisfied with that, Cousin Billy."
"What more do you ask, Sudie?"
"That you shall hold yourself in readiness to help turn something up
whenever an opportunity offers. Keep a sharp lookout for things
which may possibly have a bearing upon this matter, and follow up
any clue you may get. Won't you do that for my sake, Cousin Billy?"
"I'd do anything for your sake, Sudie, and I'd give a hundred dollars
for your faith."
And so ended the conversation. Mr. Billy, it must be confessed, had
done little toward the accomplishment of the task he had set
himself. But as he himself put it: "What on earth was a fellow to do
with a faith which made incontestable truths out of impossibilities,
and scattered facts before it like a flock of partridges?" Mr. Billy fully
appreciated the unreasonableness of Miss Sudie's logic, and yet, in
spite of all, he could not help entertaining a sort of half hope that
something would occur to vindicate Robert—a hope born of nothing
more substantial than Miss Sudie's enthusiastic belief in her lover.
 CHAPTER XXVII.
Mr. Pagebrook Accepts an Invitation to Lunch and
another Invitation.

On the morning after Robert's incarceration, his attorney came at

the appointed hour for the purpose of preparing the papers on which
application was to be made for his discharge.
"I have the affidavits all ready, I believe, Mr. Pagebrook, and we
have only to make a complete list of your property."
"That will be easily done, sir," said Robert, with a feeling of grim
amusement; "as I have literally nothing except my trunk and its
contents."
"You have your claim on that bank for money deposited. I suppose
that must be included, though it is only a chose in action."
"O put it in, by all means," said Robert. "I do not wish to
misrepresent anything or to withhold anything. I only wish the chose
in action, as you call it, were of sufficient value to discharge the
debt. I should then quit here free from all indebtedness, except to
you for your fee; and should not have this thing to pay.'
"Your discharge, I think, will free you, in law, from——"
"But it will not free me in honor sir. It will give me time, however;
and the very first use I shall make of that time will be to earn the
money with which to pay off this, my only debt. I should never ask a
discharge at all if the asking supposed any purpose on my part to
avoid the payment of the debt. Pardon me; this talk must sound odd
to you, coming from a man in my present position. I forgot that I am
an absconding debtor. You will think my talk a cheap kind of honesty,
costing nothing."
"No, Pagebrook—if you will allow me to drop the 'Mister'—I should
trust you in any transaction, though I have not known you a week. I
don't believe you are an absconding debtor, and I'm not going to
believe it on the strength of any oaths Messrs. Steel, Flint & Sharp
may make." As he said this the young lawyer took Robert's hand,
and Robert found himself wholly unable to utter a word by way of
reply. He did not want to shed tears in the presence of his jail
attendants, but the lawyer saw them standing in his eyes, and
prevented any effort at replying by turning at once to the matter in
hand.
"Come, Pagebrook," he said, "this isn't business. Let me see; what
bank was it that you deposited with?"
"The Essex," said Robert.
"The Essex!" said the lawyer. "What was that I saw in the Tribune
this morning about that bank? I think it was the Essex. Let me see;"
running his eye over the columns of the newspaper, which he had
taken from his pocket.
"Ah! here it is. By George! My dear Pagebrook, I congratulate you.
Your bank has resumed. See, here is the item:
"'Philadelphia, Dec. 3D.—The Essex Bank, of this city, which
suspended payment some weeks since, will resume business to-
morrow. Its affairs were found to be in a very favorable condition,
and at a meeting of the stockholders, held to-day, the deficit in its
assets was covered, and its capital made good by subscription. It is
not thought that any run will be made upon it, but ample
preparations have been made to meet such a contingency.'
"Again I congratulate you, right heartily."
"This means then, that my sixteen hundred dollars—that was the
total amount of my deposit—is intact, and that I may check against
it as soon as I choose, does it?"
"Certainly."
"Then let us suspend our preparations for securing my release. I will
pay out of this instead of begging out. I will draw at once for enough
to cover this debt and your fees, and ask you to put the draft into
bank for collection. We will have returns by the day after to-morrow,
doubtless, and I shall then go out of here with my head up."
"We'll end this business sooner than that, Pagebrook," said the
lawyer. "Draw your draft, I'll indorse it, take it to the bank where I
deposit, get it cashed at once, and have you out of here in time for a
two o'clock lunch. You'll lunch with me, of course."
"Pardon me, but you have no means of knowing that I have any
money in that bank," said Robert.
"Yes, indeed I have."
"What is it?"
"Your word. I told you I would trust you."
Robert looked at the man a moment, and then taking his hand, said:
"I accept your confidence frankly. Thank you. Draw the draft, please,
and I will sign it."
The draft was soon drawn, and at two o'clock that day—just twenty-
four hours after his arrest—Robert sat down to lunch with his friend,
in a down-town eating-house.
While the two gentlemen were engaged with their lunch, Robert's
friend Dudley, who had been eating a chop at the farther end of the
room, espied his acquaintance, and approaching him said:
"How are you, Pagebrook? Are you specially engaged for this
afternoon?"
"No, I believe not," said Robert. "I have nothing to do except to
finish an article which I want to offer you to-morrow, and I can do
that to-night."
"Suppose you come up to the office, then, after you finish your
lunch. I want to talk with you."
"I will be there within half an hour, if that will suit you," said Robert.
"Very well; I'll expect you."
Accordingly, Robert bade his friend adieu after lunch, and went
immediately to the editor's room.
Mr. Dudley closed the door, first saying to his messenger, who sat in
the anteroom;
"I shall be busy for some time, Eddie, and can't see anybody. If any
one calls, tell him I am closeted with a gentleman on important
business and can see nobody. Now, Pagebrook," he resumed, taking
his seat, "you ought to quit teaching."
"Why?" asked Robert.
"Well, you're a born writer certainly, and if I am not greatly
mistaken, a born journalist too. You have a knack of knowing just
what points people want to hear about. I've been struck with that in
every article you have written for me, and especially in this last one.
Do you know I've rejected no less than a dozen well-written articles
on that very subject, just because they treated every phase of it
except the right one, and didn't come within a mile of that. Now
you've hit it exactly, as you always do. You've got hold of precisely
the things that nobody knows anything about and everybody wants
to know all about, and that's journalism."
"Thank you," said Robert. "You really think, then, that I might make
myself a successful journalist if I were to try?"
"I know you would. You have precisely the right sort of ideas. You
discriminate between the things that are wanted and the things that
are not. I have long since discovered that this thing that men call
writing ability and journalistic ability isn't like anything else. It crops
out where you would never look for it, and where you think it ought
to be it isn't. You can't coax or nurse it into existence to save your
life. If a man has it he has it, and if he hasn't it he hasn't it, and
nobody can give it to him. It isn't contagious, and I honestly believe
it isn't acquirable. And that's why I'm certain of you. You've shown
that you have it, and one showing is as good as a hundred."
"I am greatly pleased," said Robert, "to know that you think so well
of me in this respect, for I have resigned my professorship and
determined to make my way, to the best of my ability, as a
journalist, hereafter?"
"You have?"
"Yes; I sent my letter of resignation yesterday."
"I'm heartily glad of it, old fellow, and selfishly glad, too, for it was
to persuade you to do that that I sat down to talk to you. You see
my health is not very good lately; the fact is I have been using the
spur too much, and am pretty well run down with overwork. The
publishers have been urging me to get an assistant, and the trouble
is to get one who can really relieve me of a share of the work. I can
get plenty of people to undertake it, but I have to go over their work
to be sure of it, and it's easier to do it myself from the first. Now you
are just the man I want, if you can stand the salary. The publishers
will let me pay forty dollars a week. You can make more than that
from the outside, I suppose, but it's better to be in a regular
situation, I think. How would you like to try the thing?"
"Nothing could be more to my taste. I think I should like this better
than daily paper work, and besides it gives one a better opportunity
for growth. But before we talk any more about it I feel myself in
honor bound to tell you what has happened to me lately. If you care
then to repeat your offer, I shall gladly accept it, but if you feel the
slightest hesitation about it, I shall not blame you for not renewing
it."
And Robert told him everything, but Dudley declined to believe that
there had been any just cause for the arrest, or that Robert had in
any way violated the strictest canons of honor.
This young man seemed, indeed, to be perfect master of the art of
making people believe in him in spite of the most damaging facts.
Miss Sudie's faith in him never wavered for an instant. Even Billy had
to keep a synopsis of the evidence against his cousin constantly in
mind to keep himself from "believing that he couldn't see through
glass," as he phrased it. The New York lawyer, summoned to get the
young man out of jail, backed his faith in him, as we have seen, by
indorsing his draft for several hundred dollars; and now Dudley, after
hearing a plain statement of the facts from Robert's own lips,
dismissed them as of no consequence, and set up his own
unreasonable faith as a complete answer to them. He renewed his
offer, and Robert accepted it, becoming office editor of the weekly
paper for which he had recently been writing.
 CHAPTER XXVIII.
Major Pagebrook asserts himself.

It now becomes necessary to a proper understanding of this history

that we shall go back a day or two, to the day, in fact, on which
Robert's letters were received at Shirley. I said there were three New
York letters in the mail-bag thrown off at the Court House that
morning. The third letter there referred to was from the law firm of
Steel, Flint & Sharp. It was addressed to Edwin Pagebrook, Esq., and
quite by accident it fell into that gentleman's hands. I say by
accident, because Cousin Sarah Ann had taken unusual precautions
to prevent precisely this result. After writing to the lawyers, it
occurred to that estimable lady that a reply would come in due time,
and that as she had taken the liberty of signing her husband's name
to her letter, the reply would be addressed to him rather than to her,
and she greatly feared that he would have an opportunity to read it.
She particularly wished that this should not happen. She knew her
mild-mannered and long-suffering husband thoroughly, and, while
she felt free to torment him in various ways, she had learned, from
one or two bits of experience, that it was not the part of wisdom to
tax his endurance too far. Accordingly she took pains to prevent him
from visiting the Court House while she was expecting the letter. She
laid various plans for the purpose of keeping him occupied on the
plantation every day, and took care to secure the first look into the
family postbag whenever the servant returned with it. On the
morning in question, however, as Maj. Pagebrook was riding over his
plantation, inspecting work, he met a neighbor who was going to the
Court House, and having some small matters to attend to there he
determined to join the neighbor in his ride. Upon his arrival he called
for his letters, and so it came about that the note in which Messrs.
Steel, Flint & Sharp, "begged to inform him" of Robert's arrest in
accordance with his instructions, fell into his hands. At first he was
puzzled, and thought there must have been some mistake, but after
awhile a glimmering of the truth dawned upon him, and in his
smothered way he was exceedingly angry. He had condemned
Robert's misconduct as severely as anybody, but had never dreamed
of proceeding to harsh measures in the matter. Besides, it was only
the day before that Robert's remittance of one hundred dollars had
come to him, and, in acknowledging its receipt, he had partially
satisfied his resentment by telling his cousin "what he thought of
him," and to learn now that the young man was in jail for the fault,
and apparently at his behest, was sorely displeasing to him. And
worse than all, his wife had taken an unwarrantable liberty in the
affair, and this he determined to resent. He mounted his horse,
therefore, and was on the point of starting homeward when Dr.
Harrison accosted him.
"Good morning, Maj. Pagebrook. May I speak to you a moment?"
"Good morning, Charles."
"Has there been any administrator appointed for Ewing's estate?"
"No, not yet. I reckon I must take out papers next court day, as he
was of age when he died. It's only a matter of form, I reckon, as
there are no debts."
"Well, my only reason for asking is I hold Ewing's note for two
hundred and twenty-five dollars. I'm in no hurry, only I wanted to
act regularly and get it in shape by presenting it."
"You have Ewing's note? Why, what is it for?" asked Major
Pagebrook in astonishment.
"Borrowed money," answered the doctor.
"Borrowed money? But how did he come to borrow it?"
"Well, the fact is Ewing got to playing bluff with Foggy one day just
before he got sick, and Foggy fleeced him pretty badly, and I lent
him the money to pay out with. He didn't want to owe it to Foggy,
you know."
"Have you the note with you?" asked Maj. Pagebrook.
"No. It's in my office; but I can get it if you'd like to look at it."
"No; it's no matter, if you can tell me the date."
"It bears date November 19th, I think."
"Just one day after he came of age," said Maj. Pagebrook. "Well, I'll
see about it, Charles," and with this the two gentlemen separated.
Major Pagebrook rode homeward, meditating upon the occurrences
of the morning. He had determined to manage his own business
hereafter without tolerating improper interference upon the part of
his wife, and he was in position to do this, too, except with regard to
the home plantation, which, as Ewing had informed Robert, was held
in Cousin Sarah Ann's name. Major Pagebrook was a quiet man and
a long-suffering one. He liked nothing so much as peace, and to
keep the peace he had always yielded to the more aggressive nature
of his wife. But he felt now that the time had come for him to assert
his supremacy in business matters, and he determined to assert it
very quietly but very positively. One point was as good as another,
he thought, for the purpose, and this newly-discovered debt of
Ewing's gave him an excellent occasion for the self-assertion upon
which he had resolved. Several times of late he had mildly suggested
to Cousin Sarah Ann the propriety of putting Ewing's papers into Billy
Barksdale's hands for examination, so that the boy's affairs might be
properly and legally adjusted. To every such suggestion Cousin
Sarah Ann, who carried the key of Ewing's portable desk, had turned
a deaf ear, saying that there were no debts one way or the other,
and that she "wouldn't have anybody overhauling the poor boy's
private papers." Now, however, Major Pagebrook had made up his
mind to put the desk into Billy's hands without asking the excellent
lady's consent.
"Don't take my horse, Jim," he said to his servant upon arriving at
home, "I am going to ride again presently. Just tie him to the rack till
I want him."
Going into the house, he met Cousin Sarah Ann, to whom he said:
"Sarah Ann, I will write my own letters and attend to my own
business hereafter, and I'll thank you not to sign my name for me
again. You have placed me in a very awkward position, and I can't
explain it to anybody without exposing you. Understand me now,
please. I will not tolerate any such interference in future."
Ordinarily Cousin Sarah Ann would have been ready enough with a
reply to such a remark as this, but just now she was fairly frightened
by her husband's tone and manner. She saw at a glance that he was
in very serious earnest, and she knew him well enough to know that
it would not do to provoke him further. She was always afraid of him,
even when she was riding rough-shod over him. When he seemed
most submissive and she most aggressive, she was in the habit of
scanning his countenance very carefully, as an engineer watches his
steam gauge. When she saw steam rising, she usually had the safety
valve—a flood of tears—ready for immediate use. Just now she saw
indications of an explosion, which appalled her, and she dared not
face the danger for a moment. Without reply, therefore, she sank,
weeping, into the nearest chair, while her husband walked into her
room, opened her wardrobe, and took from it the little desk in which
his son's letters and papers were locked. Coming back to her he
said:
"I will take the key to this desk, if you please."
She looked up with a frightened countenance, and asked:
"What for?"
"I want to open the desk."
"What are you going to do with it?"
"I'm going to put it into my lawyer's hands."
"Wait then. I must look over the papers first."
"No; Billy will do that."
"But there's some of mine in it, private ones."
"It doesn't matter. Billy will sort them and return yours to you."
"But he sha'n't look at my papers."
"Give me the key, Sarah Ann."
"I can't. It's lost."
"Very well, then," said he, taking his knife from his pocket, breaking
the frail lock, and walking out of the house without another word.
 "VERY WELL, THEN."

Cousin Sarah Ann was thoroughly overcome. She knew that her
husband had received the reply to her letter, which she had meant
to receive herself, and she knew too that her mastery over him was
at an end, for the present at least. Worse than all, she knew that the
desk and its contents would inevitably go into Billy Barksdale's
hands, and she had her own reasons for thinking this the sorest
affliction possible to her. There was no help for it now, however, and
she could do nothing except throw herself on her bed and shed tears
of bitter mortification, vexation, and dread.
Meanwhile Major Pagebrook galloped over to Shirley, with the desk
under his arm. The conversation already reported between Billy and
Miss Sudie, was hardly more than finished when he dismounted and
walked into the young lawyer's office.
He opened his business by telling Billy about the note held by Dr.
Harrison.
"I don't understand it," he said. "Harrison says the note is dated
November 19th, which was just one day after Ewing came of age,
and I remember that Ewing was taken sick on the morning of his
birthday—very sick, as you know, and never left his bed afterwards."
"When was Ewing at the Court House last?" asked Billy.
"Not since the day Robert left."
"Did he owe Harrison any money that you know of?"
"No; but Harrison says Foggy won that much from him, and he had
to borrow to pay it."
"You are sure, however, that Ewing could not possibly have had a
chance to sign the note after he came of age?"
"Of course he couldn't. He was delirious from the very first, and we
never left him."
"I think I see how it is," said Billy. "Foggy and Charley Harrison are
too intimate for any straight dealings. I reckon Charley was as
deeply interested in the winnings as Foggy was, but they have made
Ewing execute the note to Charley for money borrowed to pay Foggy
with so that it would be legally good. They made him date it ahead,
too, so that it would appear to have been executed after Ewing
came of age. They didn't anticipate his sickness, and they haven't
thought to compare dates. I think we can beat them this time, when
they get ready to sue."
"But we mustn't let them sue, Billy," said Major Pagebrook. "I would
never consent to plead the baby act or to get out of it by any legal
quibble if the signature is genuine, as I reckon it is. That wouldn't be
honorable. No, I shall pay the note off; and I only want to know
whether I must charge it to Ewing's estate or not, after taking out
administration papers. If I can, I ought to, in justice to the other
children. If I can't, I must pay it myself. Look into it, please, and let
me know about it. I have brought you Ewing's desk, so you can look
over all his papers and attend to all his affairs for me. I want to get
everything straight." So saying he took his leave.