Ranching for Sylvia Part 8

"Another time you'll say what you want at first. You can't prospect right through the menu," she rebuked him.

In the meanwhile George had been describing his companions on the train to one of the men opposite.

"He told me he was located in the district, but I didn't learn his name, and he didn't get off here," he explained. "Do you know him?"

"Sure," said the other. "It's Alan Grant, of Poplar, 'bout eighteen miles back. Guess he went on to the next station--a little farther, but it's easier driving, now they're dumping straw on the trail."

"Putting straw on the road?" Edgar broke in. "Why are they doing that?"

"You'll see, if you drive out north," the man answered shortly. Then he turned to his better-dressed companion. "What are you going to do with that carload of lumber we got for Grant?"

"Send the car on to Benton."

"She's billed here."

"Can't help that--the road's mistake. Grant ordered all his stuff to Benton. What he says goes."

This struck George as significant--it was only a man of importance whose instructions would be treated with so much deference. Then the agent turned to Edgar.

"What do you think of this country?"

"The country's very nice. So far as I've seen them, I can't say as much for the towns; they might be prettier."

"Might be prettier?" exclaimed the agent. "If they're not good enough for you, why did you come here?"

"I'm not sure it was a very judicious move. But, you see, I didn't know what the place was like; and, after all, an experience of this kind is supposed to be bracing."

The agent ignored Edgar after this. He talked to George, and elicited the information that the latter meant to farm. Then he got up, followed by two of the others, and the remaining man with the English appearance turned to George diffidently.

"Do you happen to want a teamster?" he asked.

"I believe I'll want two," was the answer. "But I'm afraid I'll have to hire Canadians."

The man's face fell. He looked anxious, and George remembered having seen a careworn woman tearfully embracing him before their steamer sailed. Her shabby clothes and despairing face had roused George's sympathy.

"Well," said the man dejectedly, "that's for you to decide; but I've driven horses most of my life, and until I get used to things I'd be reasonable about the pay. I was told these little places were the best to strike a job in; but, so far as I can find out, there's not much chance here."

George felt sorry for him. He suddenly made up his mind.

"What are farm teamsters getting now?" he asked a man who was leaving an adjacent table.

"Thirty dollars a month," was the answer.

"Thanks," said George, turning again to the Englishman. "Be ready to start with us to-morrow. I'll take you at thirty dollars; but if I don't get my value out of you, we'll have to part."

"No fear of that, sir," replied the other, in a tone of keen satisfaction.

When they got outside, Edgar looked at George with a smile.

"I'm glad you engaged the fellow," he said; "but considering that you'll have to teach him, were you not a little rash?"

"I'll find out by and by." George paused, and continued gravely: "It's a big adventure these people make. Think of it--the raising of the pa.s.sage money by some desperate economy, the woman left behind with hardly enough to keep her a month or two, the man's fierce anxiety to find some work! When I saw how he was watching me, I felt I had to hire him."

"Just so," responded Edgar. "I suppose I ought to warn you that doing things of the kind may get you into trouble some day; but cold-blooded prudence never did appeal to me." He took one of the chairs in front of the building and filled his pipe before he continued: "We'll sit here a while, and then we might as well stroll across the plain. The general-room doesn't strike me as an attractive place to spend the evening in."

An hour later they left the tall elevators and straggling town behind, and after brushing through a belt of crimson flowers, they followed the torn-up black trail that led into the waste. After a mile or two it broke into several divergent rows of ruts, and they went on toward a winding line of bluff across the short gra.s.s. Reaching that, they pushed through the thin wood of dwarf birch and poplar, skirting little pools from which mallard rose: and then, crossing a long rise, they sat down to smoke on its farther side. Sage b.u.t.te had disappeared, the sun had dipped, and the air was growing wonderfully fresh and cool. Here and there a house or barn rose from the sweep of gra.s.s; but for the most part it ran back into the distance lonely and empty. It was steeped in strong, cold coloring, but on its western rim there burned a vivid flush of rose and saffron. Edgar was impressed by its vastness and silence.

"This," he said thoughtfully, "makes up for a good deal. Once you get clear of the railroad, it's a captivating country."

"Have you decided yet what you're going to do in it?"

"It's too soon," Edgar rejoined. "The family idea was that I should stay about twelve months, and then go back and enter some profession.

Ethel seems quite convinced that a little roughing it will prove beneficial. I might, however, stop out and try farming, which is one reason why you can have my services for nothing for a time.

Considering what local wages are, don't you think you're lucky?"

"That," laughed George, "remains to be seen."

"Anyhow, there's no doubt that Sylvia Marston scores in securing you on the same favorable terms. It has struck me that she's a woman who gets things easily."

"She hasn't always done so. Can you imagine, for instance, what two years on a prairie farm must have been to a delicate, fastidious girl, brought up in luxury?"

"I've an idea that Sylvia would manage to avoid a good many of the hardships."

"Sylvia would never shirk a duty," George declared firmly.

Edgar refilled his pipe.

"I've been thinking about d.i.c.k Marston," he said. "After the way he was generally regarded at home, it was strange to hear that Canadian's opinions; but I've a notion that this country's a pretty severe touchstone. I mean that the sort of qualities that make one popular in England may not prove of much use here."

"d.i.c.k lost his crop; that accounts for a good deal," George said shortly.

Edgar, knowing how staunch he was to his friends, changed the subject; and when the light grew dim they went back to the hotel. Breakfasting soon after six the next morning, they took their places in a light, four-wheeled vehicle, for which three persons' baggage made a rather heavy load, and drove away with the hired man. The gra.s.s was wet with dew, the air invigoratingly cool, and for a time the fresh team carried them across the waste at an excellent pace. When he had got used to the frantic jolting, Edgar found the drive exhilarating. Poplar bluffs, little ponds, a lake shining amid tall sedges, belts of darkgreen wheat, went by; and while the horses plunged through tall barley-gra.s.s or hauled the vehicle over clods and ruts, the same vast prospect stretched away ahead. It filled the lad with a curious sense of freedom: there was no limit to the prairies--one could go on and on, across still wider stretches beyond the horizon.

By and by, however, they ran in among low sandy hills, dotted with dwarf pines here and there, and the pace slackened. The gra.s.s was thin, the wheels sank in deep, loose sand, and the sun was getting unpleasantly hot. For half an hour they drove on; and then the team came to a standstill, necked with spume, at the foot of a short, steep rise. Edgar alighted and found the heat almost insupportable. There was glaring sand all about him, and the breeze which swept the prairie was cut off by the hill in front.

"You'll have to help the team," George told him, as he went to the horses' heads.

Edgar and the hired man each seized a wheel and endeavored to start the vehicle, while the horses plunged in the slipping sand. They made a few yards, with clouds of grit flying up about them, and afterward came to a stop again. Next they tried pushing; and after several rests they arrived, breathless and gasping, at the crest of the rise. There was a big hollow in front, and on the opposite side a ridge which looked steeper than the last one.

"How much do you think there is of this?" Edgar inquired.

"I can't say," George answered. "I know of one belt that runs for forty miles."

Even walking downhill was laborious, for they sank ankle-deep, but it was very much worse when they faced the ascent. Short as the hill was, it took them some time to climb; and, with the hired man's a.s.sistance, Edgar carried a heavy trunk up the last part of it. Then he sat down.

"I'm not sure I can smoke, but I intend to try," he said. "If you mean to rush the next hill right off, you will go without me." He turned to the hired man. "What do you think of these roads, Grierson?"

"I've seen better, sir," the other answered cautiously. "Perhaps the hills don't go on very far."