The Spoilers of the Valley Part 83

"If I no send, they die,--see! I need one hundled dollar. I no have him. You give me one hundled dollar. I pay back one, two, thlee month after I work bank."

Jim shook his head.

"Yes!--you givem me. I pay back, sure!"

"No, siree,--not a darned cent! Your uncle, he fool you, Sing."

Sing paid no attention to the remark.

"You no givem?"

"No!"

"All lightee. I guess me tly Mayor Blenchfield. He know me heap good.

Maybe he lendem."

And off he went.

"A fat chance he has of getting a hundred dollars from Brenchfield at this stage of the game," exclaimed Jim.

"But what's the crazy lunatic's idea, anyway?" asked Phil.

"Oh, this raining pigs' hair and blood stuff is an old gag. Something like the Spanish prisoner business. It is just a put-up job by relatives in China to get money out of their superst.i.tious friends over here. They play on one another's credulity for a fare-you-well.

"And he fancies he is now a Canadian. Gee!--but we're the easy marks in this country:--c.h.i.n.ks, j.a.ps, Hindoos, Doukhobors, n.i.g.g.e.rs and G.o.d only knows what else. It sure is the melting pot. But some of them will have a great time melting,--believe me!"

Phil went back to his desk and opened up the day's mail. In it there was a letter from Eileen, full of love, but overloaded with sorrow, for it contained the disquieting news that her father had been taken suddenly ill in the House and had had to be conveyed home. The doctors at Victoria had recommended a speedy return to the Valley, and Eileen and her father were taking that advice and following by the next day's train.

Phil drove down to meet them on arrival, and he was terribly shocked to see the change that had come over the recently hale, hearty, healthy, ruddy-complexioned old rancher and politician. He seemed absolutely broken down and full of anxiety to be in his own home. He talked all the way there in a most disjointed manner regarding his property and his business affairs, which to Phil was anything but rea.s.suring, for John Royce Pederstone, although careless in regard to many things, was for the most part shrewd and at all times polished, connected and logical in his speech and argument.

Poor little Eileen was broken-hearted. Phil tried hard to make light of her father's condition, but she remained inconsolable; he endeavoured to convince her that business affairs might really not be half so bad as they seemed, but it was against his own personal opinion, consequently it was unconvincing, and Eileen was not deceived.

"It isn't any good, boy!" she remarked sadly, as they sat together.

"It is just as bad as it can be. Everything he has is held as security by the bank. He is in it also with property in Vancouver, Victoria, New Westminster and Prince Rupert. I have gone through it--and it is absolutely hopeless. There is nothing left for him in honour to do but to a.s.sign everything. This house and ranch is all that will be left, because it was made over to me over a year ago--but it will have to go, too."

"Oh, no, it won't! They can't touch it if it is yours."

"Phil, boy!--do you think I would hold it if daddy owed a cent? Shame for you!"

"But I tell you, dearie, it would be madness to throw this place in.

It wouldn't save your dad any, for it isn't nearly enough."

Eileen simply shook her head sadly.

"It is no good! If I let this go, it will mean so much less that poor daddy will owe. And that will be something, after all.

"Eileen Pederstone means to be able to hold her head up, and she could never do it if she clung on to this."

"Have you any idea how much he would require to tide things over, Eileen?"

"I am not sure, but with this place sold even at a sacrifice, maybe a hundred thousand dollars more might stop the gap till the pendulum swings back a little. And--it might not! It might simply be throwing good money after bad."

"Eileen,--Jim and I have made two hundred and fifty thousand dollars between us in cold cash. It is in the bank, thanks to you and the promise you got me to make when we started in. Half of that money is mine. I don't require it. Won't you let me come into this; it means you and me anyway in the finish. Your father can secure me in any way he likes. My money would satisfy the bank's claim and steady his holdings. Won't you let me do this for you and your father?"

"And leave you with a lot of unsaleable property instead of hard cash?

No, Phil,--absolutely no! And if you make this offer to my dad, it will mean the end for you and me, for I could never feel otherwise towards you than that I had in some way been bought."

"Eileen!" remonstrated Phil, hurt at her words.

She burst into tears and hid her face on his shoulder.

"Oh,--I just can't bear it. I hardly know what I have been saying. I didn't mean it quite that way, Phil. But you must not suggest putting your money into this. People would never finish talking over it."

"Yet you were willing to take me, Eileen, when your father's position looked secure as the country itself and I had hardly one nickel to rub against another."

"But you had ambition. You were br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with it. Nothing could ever have stopped you from making progress sooner or later. And I knew that. Lack of money means nothing to a young man with the ambition which you had, and still have. As for me, I shall have nothing now but myself."

"And me, Eileen, for I'll never let you back out. Why,--if you wish it, I'll leave everything here as it stands, or I'll give it away,--and we can go somewhere else and start all over."

"But that wouldn't be fair, if I did agree."

"Then, dearie, just let me help."

"No,--no,--no!"

"But the land should be saved,--at least, as much of it as we can save. It is of the best, and when the real merits of the fruit of this Valley are known, when the markets are opened up for us and transportation facilities are improved, the land will be worth much more than it is now, for the younger orchards will be bearing heavier and heavier year by year. Eileen, we want to hold what we can of your father's property, unhampered."

"Oh, yes!--you are terribly logical and convincing, but I won't love you any more if you get mixed up in this;--it is too, too hopeless."

"Immovable as Vancouver Island! and yet they talk of frail femininity.

Ah, Eileen! as difficult to understand as, as any other lady!"

Eileen sighed, went over to the window and parted the curtains, as she looked out over the peaceful Valley. Phil went to her side.

Up on the hill as they were, overlooking the surrounding country, they almost forgot their troubles under Nature's hypnotism. The sky overhead was opalescent; the ranges, dotted with grazing cattle and unbroken horses, were bathed in sunshine. Away below them, the little town, with its long Main Street of business houses and its stretch of regular shade trees, drowsed in an adolescent contentment. All around lay farm houses surrounded by fields in cultivation with parallel lines of fruit trees. In the distance, due west between the hills, the blue waters of the Okanagan Lake sparkled in a winding streak which melted into the sky.

Phil put his arm round Eileen and drew her to him.

"And we talked about leaving all this, dearie!"

She looked up at him with moist eyes, and her voice trembled.

"Oh, Phil!--I couldn't--I just couldn't! If I did, I should be leaving part of me behind."

He stooped and kissed her.

"And you won't, sweetheart;--not if I know it!"