Ranching for Sylvia Part 10

The man looked astonished, but he complied with the suggestion, and afterward stated his charge, which was unusually high. Edgar noticed that Grant was watching George with quiet interest.

"I suppose you have a note from Mrs. Marston fixing the price?"

The other explained that the matter had been arranged verbally.

"Was anybody else present when you came to terms?" George asked.

"You can quit feeling, and pay up!" exclaimed the stranger. "I've told you how much it is."

"The trouble is that you're asking nearly double the usual charge per acre."

Grant smiled approvingly, but the man advanced with a truculent air to the table at which George was sitting.

"I've done the work; that's good enough for me."

"You have done it badly, but I'll give you a check now, based on the regular charge, which should come to"--George made a quick calculation on a strip of paper and handed it to the man. "This is merely because you seem in a hurry. If you're not satisfied, you can wait until I get an answer from Mrs. Marston; or I'll ask some of my neighbors to arbitrate."

The man hesitated, with anger in his face.

"I guess I'll take the check," he said sullenly.

Crossing the floor, George took a pen and some paper from a shelf.

"Sit here," he said, when he came back, "and write me a receipt."

The other did as he was bidden, and George pointed toward the door.

"That's settled; I won't keep you."

The man looked hard at him, and then went quietly out; and Grant leaned back in his seat with a soft laugh.

"You fixed him," he remarked. "He has the name of being a tough."

"I suppose an Englishman newly out is considered lawful prey."

"A few of them deserve it," Grant returned dryly. "But let that go.

What do you think of the place?"

George felt that he could trust the farmer. He had spent a depressing day, during which all he saw had discouraged him. Marston had farmed in a singularly wasteful manner; fences and outbuildings were in very bad repair; half the implements were useless; and it would be a long and costly task to put things straight.

"I feel that I'll have my hands full. In fact, I'm a little worried about it; there are so many changes that must be made."

"Sure. Where are you going to begin?"

"By getting as much summer fallowing as possible done on the second quarter-section. The first has been growing wheat for some time; I'll sew part of that with timothy. There's one bit of stiff land I might put in flax. I've thought of trying corn for the silo."

"Timothy and a silo?" commented Grant.

"You're going in for stock, then? It means laying out money, and a slow return."

"I'm afraid so. Still, you can't grow cereals year after year on this light soil. It's a wasteful practise that will have to be abandoned, as people here seem to be discovering. Grain won't pay at sixteen bushels to the acre."

"A sure thing," Grant agreed. "I'm sticking right to wheat, but that's because I'm too old to change my system, and I'm on black soil, which holds out longer."

"But you're taking the nature out of it."

"It will see me through if I fallow," said Grant. "When I've done with it and sell out, somebody else can experiment with mixed crops and stock-raising. That's going to become the general plan, but it's costly at the beginning." Then he rose. "I'll walk round the place with you."

They went out, and the girl fell behind with Edgar. He had learned that her name was Flora.

"Mr. Lansing seems to understand farming," she remarked. "He didn't tell us he had been on the prairie before."

"He hasn't told you now," Edgar pointed out.

"George never does tell things about himself unless there's a reason."

"He soon got rid of the fellow who sowed the crop."

Edgar laughed.

"I knew the man would meet with a surprise. George's abilities are not, as a rule, obvious at first sight. People find them out by accident, and then they're somewhat startled."

"You're evidently an admirer of his. Do you mean to go in for farming?"

"I am, though I wouldn't have him suspect it," said Edgar. "In answer to the other question, I haven't made up my mind. Farming as it's carried on in this country seems to be a rather arduous occupation. In the meanwhile, I'm undergoing what English people seem to think of as the Canadian cure; that is, I've been given a chance for readjusting my ideas and developing my character."

"Under Mr. Lansing's guidance?"

Edgar realized that the girl was less interested in him than in George, but he did not resent this.

"You're smart. I believe my people entertained some idea of that nature; George is considered safe. Still, to prevent any misapprehension, I'd better point out that my chief failings are a fondness for looking at the amusing side of things and a slackness in availing myself of my opportunities. As an instance of the latter defect, I'm boring you by talking about Lansing."

Flora regarded him with a quiet smile.

"It struck me that you were saying something about yourself."

"I suppose that's true," Edgar admitted. "It clears the ground."

"For what?"

"For an extension of our acquaintance, among other things."

"Do you want it extended?"

They had stopped at the edge of a hollow filled with tall, harsh gra.s.s, and Edgar studied her while he considered his answer. There was nothing that suggested coquetry in the faint amus.e.m.e.nt she displayed; this was a girl with some depth of character, though he realized that she was pretty. She carried herself well; she was finely and strongly made; her gray eyes were searching; and she had a rather commanding manner. Her hair was a warm brown, cl.u.s.tering low on a smooth forehead; nose and lips and chin were firmly molded.

"Yes," he answered candidly; "I'm feeling the strangeness of the country, and I've an idea that both George and I may need friends in it. It strikes me that you and your father would prove useful ones."