Ranching for Sylvia Part 9

Edgar ruefully glanced ahead at scattered pines, clumps of brush, and ridges of gleaming sand.

"It's my opinion there's no end to them! Hauling a load of wheat through this kind of country must be a bit of an undertaking."

After a short rest, they toiled for an hour through the sand; and then rode slowly over a road thickly strewn with straw, which bore the wheels. It led them across lower ground to a strong wire fence, where it forked: one branch skirting the barrier along the edge of a muskeg, the other running through the enclosed land. Deciding to take the latter, George got down at the entrance, which was barred by several strands of wire, firmly fastened.

"Half an hour's work here," Edgar commented. "Driving's rather an arduous pastime in western Canada."

They crossed a long field of barley, a breadth of wheat, and pa.s.sed an empty house; then wound through a poplar wood until they reached the gra.s.s again. It was long and rank, hiding the ruts and hollows in the trail; but after stopping a while for dinner in the shadow of a bluff, they jolted on, and in the afternoon they reached a smoother track.

Crossing a low rise, they saw a wide stretch of wheat beneath them, with a house and other buildings near its margin.

"That," said George, "is Sylvia's farm."

Half an hour later, they drove through the wheat, at which George glanced dubiously; and then, traversing a belt of light sandy clods partly grown with weeds, they drew up before the house. It was double-storied, roomy, and neatly built of wood; but it was in very bad repair, and the barn and stables had a neglected and half-ruinous look.

Implements and wagons which had suffered from exposure to the weather, stood about outside. Edgar noticed that George's face was grave.

"I am afraid we have our work cut out," he said. "We'll put up the team, and then look round the place and see what needs doing first."

CHAPTER VI

GEORGE GETS TO WORK

It was an oppressive evening, after a day of unusual heat. Edgar sat smoking outside the homestead. He had been busy since six o'clock that morning, and he felt tired and downcast. Ma.s.sed thunder-clouds brooded over the silent prairie, wheat and gra.s.s had faded to dingy green and lifeless gray, and Edgar tried to persuade himself that his moodiness was the effect of the weather. This was partly the case, but he was also suffering from homesickness and a shrinking from what was new and strange.

The wooden house had a dreary, dilapidated look; the weathered, neglected appearance of barns and stables was depressing. It was through a neighboring gap in the fence that Marston's team had brought their lifeless master home; and Edgar had seen enough to realize that the man must have grown slack and nerveless before he had succ.u.mbed.

The farm had broken down Marston's strength and courage, and now another man, less gifted in many ways, had taken it in charge. Edgar wondered how he would succeed; but in spite of a few misgivings he had confidence in George.

After a while the latter, who had been examining Marston's farming books, came out, looking grave; he had worn a serious air since their arrival.

"There'll have to be a change," he said. "d.i.c.k's accounts have given me something to think about. I believe I'm beginning to understand now how his money went."

"I suppose you haven't got the new program cut and dried yet?" Edgar suggested.

George was seldom precipitate.

"No," he answered. "I've a few ideas in my mind."

"Won't you have some trouble about finances, if the alterations are extensive?"

"I'll have to draw on my private account, unless Herbert will a.s.sist."

"Herbert won't do anything of the kind," said Edgar decidedly.

George, making no answer, called Grierson from the stable.

"You'll drive in to the settlement after breakfast to-morrow, Tom," he said. "Tell the man I'll keep the team, if he'll knock off twenty dollars, and he can have his check when he likes. Then bring out the flour and groceries."

"I suppose I won't be going in again for a while; we'll be too busy?"

"It's very likely," said Edgar, knowing his comrade's temperament.

"Then I wonder if I could draw a pound or two?" asked Grierson diffidently.

"Why?" George questioned him. "The Immigration people would see that you had some money before they let you in."

"I've four pounds now; I want to send something home at once."

"Ah!" said George. "I see. How much did you leave your wife?"

"About three pounds, sir; I had to bring enough to pa.s.s me at Quebec."

"Then if you give me what you have, I'll let you have a check for twice as much on an English bank. Better get your letter written."

Grierson's look was very expressive as he turned away with a word of thanks; and Edgar smiled at George.

"You have bought that fellow--for an advance of four pounds," he said.

George showed a little embarra.s.sment.

"I was thinking of the woman," he explained.

Then he pointed to the prairie.

"There's a rig coming. It looks like visitors."

Soon afterward, Grant, whom they had met on the train, drew up his team and helped his daughter down.

"We were pa.s.sing and thought we'd look in," he said. "Found out yesterday that you were located here."

George called Grierson to take the team, and leading the new arrivals to the house, which was still in disorder, he found them seats in the kitchen. It was rather roughly and inadequately furnished, and Edgar had decided that Sylvia had spent little of her time there. After they had talked for a while, a man, dressed in blue duck trousers, a saffron-colored shirt, and an old slouch hat, which he did not remove, walked in, carrying a riding quirt. Grant returned his greeting curtly, and then the man addressed George.

"I heard you were running this place," he said.

"That's correct."

"Then I put in the wheat on your summer fallow; Mrs. Marston told me to. Thought I'd come along and let you have the bill."

His manner was a.s.sertively offhand, and George did not ask him to sit down.

"It's a very second-rate piece of work," George said. "You might have used the land-packer more than you did."

"It's good enough. Anyway, I'll trouble you for the money."

Edgar was sensible of indignation mixed with amus.e.m.e.nt. This overbearing fellow did not know George Lansing.

"I think you had better take off your hat before we go any farther--it's customary. Then you may tell me what I owe you."