The Desert Fiddler Part 17

Bob smiled appreciatively. "I've seen things like that happen more than once. And it is not because they are simple and ignorant either."

"You know," pursued Noah Ezekiel, "if I's Karniggy, I'd send a lot of 'em out as missionaries."

They were at Ah Sing's ranch. The three-hundred-acre field was level as a table, broken deep, thoroughly disked, and listed ready to water.

The Chinaman, without any money or the slightest a.s.surance he could get any for his planting, had worked all winter preparing the fields.

Ah Sing stood in front of his weed-and-pole shack waiting with that stoical anxiety which never betrays itself by hurry or nervousness. If the man of money came and saw fit to lend, "vellee well--if not, doee best I can."

"You go out and take a look at the field," Bob directed Noah, "see if there is any marsh gra.s.s or alfalfa roots, and look over his water ditches while I talk to the Chinaman."

"Good morning, Ah Sing," he said, extending his hand.

"Good morning, Misty Rogee." The Chinaman smiled and gave the visitor a friendly handshake. He was of medium height, had a well-shaped head and dignified bearing, and eyes that met yours straight. He looked about forty, but one never knows the age of a Chinaman.

"Nice farm, Ah Sing," Bob nodded approvingly at the well-plowed fields.

"He do vellee well." The Chinaman was pleased.

"And you have no money to make a crop?" Bob asked.

"No money," Ah Sing said, stoically.

"I heard last fall you had made a good deal of money raising cotton over here," suggested Bob.

"Me make some," admitted Ah Sing. "Workee vellee hard many year--make maybe eighteen--twentee thousan'."

"What became of it, Ah Sing? Don't gamble, do you?"

The Chinaman shook his head emphatically, "Me no gamble.

Gamble--n.o.body trust. Me pick cotton for Misty Jenkins."

Bob was interested in that. He knew that after raising Jenkins' crop Ah Sing had taken the contract to pick it. Bob had heard other things but not from the Chinaman. "Didn't you make some money on that, too?"

"No money."

"Why not?" Bob spoke quickly. "Tell me about it, Ah Sing."

The Chinaman sighed again and the long, long look came into his patient oriental eyes.

"Ah work in America ever since leetle boy--so high. After while I save leetle money. Want go back China visit. I have cer-tificate. When I come back, say it's no good. Put me in jail. Don't know why. Stay long time. Send me back China. Then I come Mexico. Can't cross line; say d.a.m.n Mexican Chinaman. I raise cotton--I raise lettuce--make leetle money. Maybee twent' thousan'.

"Misty Jenkins say 'Ah Sing, want pick my cotton?' I say, 'Maybee.'

He say, 'Give you ten dollar bale. You do all work--feed Chinamen.' I say, 'Vellee well.' Lots Chinaboys need work. I hire seven hund'--eight hund'--maybee thousan.' I feed 'em. I pick cotton. Pick eight thousan' bale. Take all my money feed 'em. I owe Chinaboys fifty thousan' dollar.

"No pay. No see Misty Jenkins. No cross line. Misty Jenkins pay sometime maybee--maybee not." The old Chinaman shook his head fatalistically.

"And you spent all you had earned and saved in forty years, and then went in debt fifty thousand to other Chinamen to pick that cotton, and he hasn't paid you a dollar?"

"No pay yet; maybee some time," he replied, stoically.

"What a d.a.m.n shame!" Bob seldom swore, but he felt justified for this once. "Can't you collect it under the Mexican laws?"

Ah Sing slowly, futilely, turned his hands palms outward.

"Mexican say Misty Jenkins big man. d.a.m.n Chinaman no good no way."

Noah Ezekiel came in from the field.

"As my dad says," remarked the hill billy, "this c.h.i.n.k has held on to the handle of the plow without ever looking back. The field is O. K."

"How much will you need, Ah Sing?" Bob turned to the Chinaman.

"Maybee get along with thousan' dollars--fifteen hund' maybee."

"All right," said Bob, "I'm going to let you have it. You can get the money three hundred at a time as you need it."

Bob stood thinking for a moment.

"Ah Sing," he said, decisively, "how would you like to have a partner?

Suppose I go in with you; furnish the money and look after the buying and selling, tend to the business end; you raise the cotton. Me pay all the expenses, including wages, for you; and then divide the profits?"

The Chinaman's face lost its stoic endurance and lighted with relief.

"I likee him vellee much!" He put out his hand. "Me and you partners, heh?"

"Yes," Bob gripped the hand, "we are partners."

CHAPTER XVIII

Nothing Bob Rogeen had overheard about Reedy Jenkins and his schemes had so intensified his anger as this treatment of the patient, defenceless Ah Sing.

"A Chinaman has the system," remarked Noah Ezekiel as they drove away.

"He'll lease a ranch, then take in half a dozen partners and put a partner in charge of each section of the field. Raisin' cotton is all-fired particular work, especially with borrowed water--there are as many ways to ruin it as there are to spoil a pancake. And a partner isn't so apt to go to sleep at the ditch."

"That is why I went into partnership with Ah Sing," said Bob. "I have never seen much money made in farming anywhere unless a man who had an interest in the crop was on the job."

"You bet you haven't," agreed Noah Ezekiel. "Absent treatment may remove warts and bad dispositions, but it sure won't work on c.o.c.kleburs and Bermuda gra.s.s."

For several miles Bob's mind was busy.

"Noah," he asked, abruptly, "how would you like to go into partnership with me and take over the management of that hundred and sixty acres we cultivated last year?"

"As my dad used to say," replied Noah Ezekiel, skeptically, "'Faith is the substance of things hoped for'; and as I never hope for any substance, I ain't got no faith--especially in profits. Whenever I come round, profits hide out like a bunch of quails on a rainy day. I prefer wages."

Bob laughed. "Suppose we make it both. I'll pay you wages, and besides give you one fifth of the net profits."