The Spoilers of the Valley Part 74

"But do you really think, Jim, that he would get his gang to burn up the place for that?"

"Would he? Great Heavens, man!--that paper means social and material life or death to your former side-kicker and sparring partner, Graham Brenchfield."

"And what can we do?"

"Not a thing! The men from Redmans have as much right to roam around as we have. We haven't a vestige of definite proof that they set our house ablaze, although we both know, darned well, that they and n.o.body else did it."

Next morning early, shortly after the bank opened, Rattlesnake Dalton nearly threw the proverbial fit in his office, when confronted by Phil and Jim and presented with a certified cheque for one thousand dollars, plus interest, with a demand for the deed to the Brantlock Ranch.

Dalton knew better than try any more nonsense, so he had the deed made out in proper form and handed over.

McAdam drove in to town shortly afterwards and had the transfer of the property made to himself and completed the deal, thus ending the careers of two would-be ranchers before they had properly begun.

"Over six thousand dollars in the bank, and nothing to do with it,"

exclaimed Jim, as soon as they were together in the street, and alone.

"That won't do, Phil. I have the fever now. We've got to make it sixty thousand."

"I'm with you on that," answered Phil. "Let's go down to the Kenora and talk it over in a corner over a real swell dinner. I haven't had one for a month of Sundays--and I have a six thousand dollar appet.i.te."

That dinner at the corner table of the Kenora dining-room was the birthplace of many future events. Jim talked volubly and he talked often, for despite his nationality and its proverbial p.r.o.neness to caution, he was bubbling with enthusiasm over the new plan for progress which he had conceived. Truth to tell, for the first time for many a long day, he was the proud possessor of a half interest in six thousand dollars and it was burning a hole in his pocket; but with all his persuasiveness he had a hard task in converting his less mercurially disposed partner to his cause.

The dinner was a masterpiece, but it took second place to the conversation.

"Good night, bairn!" exclaimed Jim at last, "there is McWilliams--two years ago he was city garbage man. Look at him now--luxuriates in his five-thousand-dollar car; has his town residence and his ranch; winters in California every year. Think of Fraser & Somerville:--three years ago Fraser borrowed twenty-five cents from me to buy a meal in the Chinese restaurant the day he blew in here, and he hasn't paid it back, either, although both he and Somerville are a considerable way up Easy Street. Peter Brixton was the conductor on the C.P.R. train running into the Valley from Sicamous--now he would think nothing of hiring a special to take him up to Sicamous if he took the fool notion. The only men at the game in town who had money when they started are McIntyre & Anderson,--and they've made the least of any because they lack the necessary pep. Even that lizard Dalton, is worth fifty thousand dollars, and all in selling real-estate. Man!--it makes me wearied to think of it. And besides, the early Spring Season is just opening up. We can be in right at the start of it."

Jim rose.

"Phil,--I don't want to, but I'm going to try this thing out alone if you won't come in. I'll show them in this town. If you don't come, you'll rue it once and that'll be all your life."

He stood looking down on Phil, who was resting his elbows on the table with his head on his upturned palms.

"Who said I wasn't coming in?" he murmured slowly.

Jim was round the end of the table and on him with a bound. He tilted up Phil's head.

"You're in on it! Whee-he!" he yelled, and to the astonishment of the remainder of the diners he dragged his partner to his feet and danced him round till both were dizzy and staggering.

That afternoon they took a year's lease of the front offices that had been the Commercial Bank before the bank had moved to their new premises further down Main Street. It was a bigger place than that of any other two real-estate brokers in town combined. They took it as it was; counters, desks, chairs and fixtures, and contracted to pay two hundred and fifty dollars a month for it. They paid three months' rent in advance; not because they had to but as a token of good faith and to establish some foundation of financial stability.

Jim scoured the main thoroughfares, spending half an hour at every window of every real-estate office in town, examining their cards and taking copious notes therefrom; and in the process brought McIntyre, Fraser, McWilliams and others out to their respective doors to inquire if there was any property they could show him; but all they could get out of Jim was:--"Maybe later on. I'm just looking around."

While he was thus engaged, Phil was commissioning the best sign-writers in Vernock to do a hurry-up job of absolutely first-cla.s.s workmanship and have it in place above their office windows the next morning, regardless of cost.

He was too late to get a full-page advertis.e.m.e.nt in the _Advertiser_, which came out the next day, but he arranged it for the next issue and, on the strength of it, succeeded in inducing McQuarrie--Ben Todd's advertising manager--to rush off two thousand dodgers and insert them between the sheets of each copy of the current weekly, although not exactly a legal thing to do.

He ordered five thousand letter forms announcing the new business partnership and he had McQuarrie send them next day to every name on his special mailing list. This job alone, including the mailing, local and foreign, cost them three hundred dollars; but, for the time being, money was no object.

Two card writers, each at three dollars an hour, worked all night on Jim's purloined information, making out window cards which offered every available and unavailable piece of land in the Valley for sale, at a figure. A whole army of fat, lean and guttural-speaking charladies, behind carefully drawn blinds, worked all night long on the office floors, desks, counters and windows. Luxurious carpets and new filing cabinets were rushed in.

A typewriter was purchased. The prettiest stenographer in town was engaged to operate it--or, at least, to sit behind it for effect--regardless of expense. Two telephones, which had not been removed since the Bank's occupancy, were arranged for and retained. The dull electric lights were taken down and powerful oxygen lamps put in place. There was going to be nothing dull in the Langford-Ralston Financial Corporation.

A joint visit by Phil and Jim was made to the tailor's and each got fitted out in a new suit of the latest model, with fancy and somewhat garish waistcoats. Cigars of the best brand--five boxes of them--and two thousand cigarettes were purchased for the purpose of camaraderie and general corruption.

A new auto, not too sporty but brave and dazzling in its unscratched varnish and untarnished nickel-plated lamps and rods, value fifteen hundred dollars, was purchased on terms:--five hundred dollars down and the balance in equal payments, three and six months.

Everything but that automobile was fully paid for on the nail, for Jim contended, and rightly too, that cash with a first order very often a.s.sured credit with the order to follow.

It was strenuous work, and exciting while it lasted, but they had the satisfaction of accomplishing almost everything they had set out to do.

Next morning the town was jolted with surprise at finding a new business in full operation on one of the chief sites on Main Street.

The new Catteline-Harvard car was standing at the kerb before the door, shrieking its newness. A great sign over the door told the world at large, and in no uncertain manner, that the Langford-Ralston Financial Corporation was doing business below. The two windows were a dainty display of the show-card writers' art, hanging above and around a miniature fruit ranch, complete with trees, house and barns in the one, and a miniature townsite in the making in the other. "Come in and Talk It Over," said one card. "Nothing in Land We Cannot Buy for You.

Nothing We Cannot Sell," proclaimed another. "If you have tried all the others and have not got what you want--try Us." "Better Save Yourself Time and Worry by Trying Us First." "The Recognised, Reliable Okanagan Land Agents." "Our Time and Our Cars are at Your Disposal."

In addition to these were dozens of neat cards in plain letters and figures, offering wonderful values in Ranches, Wild Land, Homes and New Sub-divisions, the real owners of which the Langford-Ralston Financial Corporation could no more than make a guess at.

It was not long before the windows were attracting the early morning pa.s.sers-by in the dozens.

Someone telephoned McWilliams, who came along and had a look at the display. He went away in high dudgeon to inform Somerville, Brixton, McIntyre and the rest of them that the new outfit had been getting next to their customers and had succeeded in getting the listings of almost every piece of property in the Valley.

Meantime, Phil and Jim were comfortably ensconced in easy chairs behind their new desks, each smoking a fine brand of cigar, but busy poring over a profusion of maps and blue-prints, in a belated endeavour to get some notion--however indistinct--of how the land lay according to numbers. They knew where Kickwillie Loop was; they could go blindfold to Blear-eyed Monoghan's Ranch, or Mudflats, or Sunset Avenue, but when it came to driving out to, say, lot 21 sub-division 16, district lot 218--well, that was quite another matter and called for deep and urgent concentration.

Jim kept his brand-new, high-tension, low-geared stenographer busy typing and re-typing forms of Agreements for Sale and Deeds, in antic.i.p.ation of later business.

Several prominent citizens came in to compliment them on their enterprise and to wish them good luck. The numbers of these well-wishing citizens increased as the news went round, and the Langford-Ralston stock of cigars and cigarettes decreased correspondingly, but the new concern had the pleasure of listing at least a dozen pieces of property direct from the owners.

An alarming piece of information vouchsafed itself just before lunch time, when, for the first time, the bank book of the Financial Corporation was consulted. Out of their original six thousand dollars, there were three thousand left.

"Holy Mackinaw!" breathed Phil, in prayer to some Esquimo G.o.d.

"Great Andrew Carnegie!" muttered Jim, wetting the glowing end of his cigar and putting it carefully into his upper vest pocket for future use when a client might be around.

Receipts and jotted notes were gathered together and hastily consulted, but they were unable to reduce their outlay or swell the credit side of their bank book.

"Good job we noticed it in time!" grinned Jim.

"I should say so! And we have to start in right now with a proper system; card indices, loose-leaf, cash book, ledgers, everything up to the minute. You're the lawyer, Jim, the silver tongue, the eloquently persuasive. Me for the books, the financing, the adjusting and the accounts;--with a help out on the buying and selling end when required."

"Right-o,--that's the stuff!"

And so it was arranged.

At noon Phil ran over to break the news to Sol Hanson that he had quit,--for a season at least.

The big, good-natured fellow almost shed tears at the news, although he had known that Phil would be leaving him one of these days--but, as he had fancied, for the purpose of ranching, not buying and selling property.

"Well, I been guess you ain't no fool, Phil. You know your business pretty good. Jim too! You make dam-fine real-estate ginks."

He scratched his head.