XX
Miguel Farrel pulled up his pinto on the brow of a hill which, alongthe Atlantic seaboard, would have received credit for being a mountain,and gazed down into the Agua Caliente basin. Half a mile to his right,the slope dipped into a little saddle and then climbed abruptly to theshoulder of El Palomar, the highest peak in San Marcos County. Thesaddle was less than a hundred yards wide, and through the middle of ita deep arroyo had been eroded by the Rio San Gregorio tumbling downfrom the hills during the rainy season. This was the only outlet tothe Agua Caliente basin, and Don Mike saw at a glance that Parker'sengineers had discovered this, for squarely in the outlet a dozentwo-horse teams were working, scraping out the foundation for the hugeconcrete dam for which Parker had contracted. Up the side of ElPalomar peak, something that resembled a great black snake had beenstretched, and Farrel nodded approvingly as he observed it.
"Good idea, that, to lay a half-mile of twelve-inch steel pipe up tothat limestone deposit," he remarked to Parker, who had reined hishorse beside Don Mike's. "Only way to run your crushed rock down tothe concrete mixer at the dam-site. You'll save a heap of money ondelivering the rock, at any rate. Who's your contractor, Mr. Parker?"
"A man named Conway."
"Old Bill Conway, of Santa Barbara?"
"The same, I believe," Parker replied, without interest.
"Great old chap, Bill! One of my father's best friends, although hewas twenty years younger than dad. He must feel at home on the RanchoPalomar."
Mrs. Parker could not refrain from asking why.
"Well, ever since Bill Conway was big enough to throw a leg over ahorse and hold a gun to his shoulder, he's been shooting deer and quailand coursing coyotes on this ranch. Whenever he felt the down-hilldrag, he invited himself up to visit us. Hello! Why, I believe theold horse-thief is down there now; at least that's his automobile. I'dknow that ruin anywhere. He bought it in 1906, and swears he's goingto wear it out if it takes a lifetime. Let's go down and see whatthey're up to there. Come on, folks!" And, without waiting to seewhether or not he was followed, he urged the pinto over the crest androde down the hillside at top speed, whooping like a wild Indian toattract the attention of Bill Conway. In a shower of weeds and gravelthe pinto slid on his hind quarters down over the cut-bank where thegrading operations had bitten into the hillside, and landed with agrunt among the teams and scrapers.
"Bill Conway! Front and center!" yelled the master of Palomar.
"Here! What's the row?" a man shouted, and, from a temporary shackoffice a hundred yards away, a man stepped out.
"What do you mean by cutting into my dam-site without my permission?"Farrel yelled and drove straight at the contractor. "Hey, there, oldsettler! Mike Farrel, alive and kicking!" He left the saddle whilethe pinto was still at a gallop, landed on his feet in front of BillConway and took that astounded old disciple of dump-wagon and scraperin a bearlike embrace.
"Miguel! You young scoundrel!" Conway yelled, and forthwith he beatFarrel between the shoulder-blades with a horny old fist and cursed himlovingly.
"Cut out the profanity, Mr. Conway," Don Mike warned him. "Some ladiesare about due on the job."
"When'd you light in the Palomar, boy? Gimme your hand. Whatthe--say, ain't it a pity the old man couldn't have lasted until yougot back? Ain't it, now, son?"
"A very great pity, Mr. Conway. I got home last night."
"Boy, I'm glad to see you. Say, you ran into surprises, didn't you?"he added, lowering his voice confidentially.
"Rather. But, then, so did the other fellow. In fact, sir, a verypleasant time was had by all. By the way, I hope you're not deludingyourself with the belief that I'm going to pay you for building thisdam."
"By Judas priest," the alert old contractor roared, "you certainly dofile a bill of complications! I'll have to see Parker about this rightaway--why, here he is now."
The Parkers had followed more decorously than had Farrel; nevertheless,they had arrived in more or less of a hurry. John Parker rode directlyto Conway and Farrel.
"Well, Mr. Conway," he shouted pleasantly, "the lost sheep is foundagain."
"Whereat there is more rejoicing in San Marcos County than there willbe over the return of some other sheep--and a few goats--I know of.How do you do, Mr. Parker?" Conway extended his hand, and, as Kay andher mother rode up, Farrel begged their permission to present him tothem. Followed the usual commonplaces of introduction, which Farrelpresently interrupted.
"Well, you confounded old ditch-digger! How about you?"
"Still making little rocks out of big ones, son. Say, Mr. Parker, howdo we stack up on this contract, now that Little Boy Blue is back onthe Palomar, blowing his horn?"
Parker strove gallantly to work up a cheerful grin.
"Oh, he's put a handful of emery dust in my bearings, confound him, Mr.Conway! It begins to look as if I had leaped before looking."
"Very reprehensible habit, Mr. Parker. Well--I'm getting so old andworthless nowadays that I make it a point to look before I leap. Mike,my son, do you happen to be underwriting this contract?"
Don Mike looked serious. He pursed his lips, arched his brows, drewsome bills and small coins from his pocket, and carefully counted them.
"The liquid assets of the present owner of that dirt you're making sofree with, Mr. Conway, total exactly sixty-seven dollars and ninecents. And I never thought the day would come when a pair of old-timeCalifornians like us would stoop to counting copper pennies. Before Ijoined the army, I used to give them away to the cholo children, andwhen there were no youngsters handy to give the pennies to, I used tothrow them away."
"Yes," Bill Conway murmured sadly. "And I remember the roar that wentup from the old-timers five years ago when the Palace Hotel in SanFrancisco reduced the price of three fingers of straight whisky fromtwenty-five cents to fifteen. Boy, they're crowding us out."
"Who's been doing most of the crowding in San Marcos County while I'vebeen away, Mr. Conway?" Farrel queried innocently.
"Japs, my son. Say, they're comin' in here by the ship-load."
"You don't tell me! Why, two years ago there wasn't a Jap in SanMarcos County with the exception of a couple of shoemakers and awindow-washing outfit in El Toro."
"Well, those hombres aren't mending shoes or washing windows any more,Miguel. They saved their money and now they're farming--garden-truckmostly. There must be a thousand Japanese in the county now--allfarmers or farm-laborers. They're leasing and buying every acre offertile land they can get hold of."
"Have they acquired much acreage?"
"Saw a piece in the El Toro Sentinel last week to the effect that ninethousand and twenty acres have been alienated to the Japs up to thefirst of the year. Nearly all the white men have left La Questa valleysince the Japs discovered they could raise wonderful winter celerythere."
"But where do these Japanese farmers come from, Mr. Conway?" Parkerinquired. "They do not come from Japan because, under the gentlemen'sagreement, Japan restricts emigration of her coolie classes."
"Well, now," Bill Conway began judicially. "I'll give Japan thebenefit of any doubts I have as to the sincerity with which sheenforces this gentlemen's agreement. The fact remains, however, thatshe does not restrict emigration to Mexico, and, unfortunately, we havean international boundary a couple of thousand miles long andstretching through a sparsely settled, brushy country. To guard oursouthern boundary in such an efficient manner that no Jap couldpossibly secure illegal entry to the United States via the line, wewould have to have sentries scattered at hundred-yard intervals andcloser than that on dark nights. The entire standing army of theUnited States would be required for the job. In addition to thehandicap of this unprotected boundary, we have a fifteen-hundred-milecoast-line absolutely unguarded. Japanese fishermen bring theirnationals up from the Mexican coast in their trawlers and set themashore on the southern California coast. At certain times of the year,any landlubber can land through the surf a
t low tide; in fact,ownerless skiffs are picked up on the south-coast beaches rightregularly."
"Well, you can't blame the poor devils for wanting to come to thiswonderful country, Mr. Conway. It holds for them opportunities fargreater than in their own land."
"True, Mr. Parker. But their gain is our loss, and, as a matter ofcommon sense, I fail to see why we should accord equal opportunity toan unwelcome visitor who enters our country secretly and illegally. Igrant you it would prove too expensive and annoying to make a firmeffort to stop this illegal immigration by preventive measures alongour international boundary and coast-line, but if we destroy the Jap'sopportunity for profit at our expense, we will eliminate the mainincentive for his secret and illegal entry, which entry is always veryexpensive. I believe seven hundred and fifty dollars is themarket-price for smuggling Japs and Chinamen into the United States ofAmerica."
"But we should take steps to discover these immigrants after theysucceed in making entry--"
"Rats!" the bluff old contractor interrupted. "How are we going to dothat under present conditions? The cry of the country is for economyin governmental affairs, so Congress prunes the already woefullyinadequate appropriation for the Department of Labor and keeps ourforce of immigration inspectors down to the absolute minimum. Theseinspectors are always on the job; the few we have are splendid, loyalservants of the government, and they prove it by catching Japs,Chinamen, and Hindus every day in the week. But for every illegalentrant they apprehend, ten escape and are never rounded up. Confoundthem; they all look alike, anyhow! How are you going to distinguishone Jap from another?
"Furthermore, Mr. Parker, you must bear this fact in mind: The countryat large is not interested in the problem of Oriental immigration. Ithasn't thought about it; it doesn't know anything about it except whatthe Japs have told it, and a Jap is the greatest natural-born liar andpurveyor of half-truths and sugar-coated misinformation this world hasknown."
"Easy, old timer!" Don Mike soothed, laying his hand on Conway'sshoulder. "Don't let your angry passions rise."
Conway grinned.
"I always fly into a rage when I get talking about Japs," he explaineddeprecatingly to the ladies. "And it's such a helpless, hopeless rage.There's no outlet for it. You see," he began all over again, "thedratted Jap propagandist is so smart--he's so cunning that he hascapitalized the fact that California was the first state to protestagainst the Japanese invasion. He has made the entire country believethat this is a dirty little local squabble of no consequence to ourcountry at large. He keeps the attention of forty-seven states onCalifornia while he quietly proceeds to colonize Oregon, Washington,and parts of Utah. Lately he has passed blithely over the hot,lava-strewn, and fairly non-irrigated state of Arizona to the morefertile agricultural lands of Texas. And yet a couple of hundred prizeboobs in Congress talk sagely about an amicable settlement of the Japproblem in California! When they want information, they consult theJapanese ambassador!"
"But why," Kay ventured to ask, "do the Japanese not acquireagricultural lands in the Middle West? There are no restrictions inthose states in the matter of outright purchases of land, and surelythe soil is fertile enough to suit the most exacting Jap."
"Ah, young lady," Bill Conway boomed. "I'm glad you asked me thatquestion. The Jap is a product of the temperate zone; he does not takekindly to extremes of heat and cold. Unlike the white man he cannotstand such extremes and function with efficiency. That's why theextreme northern part of Japan, which is very cold in winter, is sosparsely populated, although excellent agricultural land. Why freezeto death up there when, by merely following the Japan Current as itlaves the west coast of North America from British Columbia down, onecan, in a pinch, dispense with an overcoat in January?"
"Enough of this anti-Japanese propaganda of yours, Senor Conway," DonMike interrupted. "Our friends here haven't listened to anything elsesince I got home last night. Mr. Parker, being quite ignorant of thereal issue, has, of course, fallen under the popular delusion; and I'vebeen trying my best to lead him to the mourner's bench, to convince himthat when he acquires the Rancho Palomar--which, by the way, will notbe for at least a year, now that I've turned up to nullify his judgmentof foreclosure--that it will be a far more patriotic action on hispart, even if less profitable, to colonize the San Gregorio with whitemen instead of Japs. In fact, Mr. Parker, I wouldn't be surprised ifyou should succeed in putting through a very profitable deal with thestate of California to colonize the valley with ex-soldiers."
Old Bill Conway turned upon John Parker a smoldering gaze.
"So I'm building a dam to irrigate a lot of Jap truck-gardens, am I?"he rumbled.
The sly, ingenious manner in which Miguel Farrel had so innocentlycontrived to strew his already rough path with greater obstacles,infuriated Parker, and for an instant he lost control of himself.
"What do you care what it's for, Conway, provided you make your profitout of the contract?" he demanded brusquely.
"Ladies," the contractor replied, turning to Mrs. Parker and Kay, "Itrust you will pardon me for discussing business in your presence justfor a minute. Miguel, am I to understand that this ranch is stillFarrel property?"
"You bet! And for a year to come."
"Then I gather that Mr. Parker has contracted with me to build a dam onyour land and without your approval. Am I right?"
"You are, Mr. Conway. I am not even contemplating giving my approvalto the removal of another scraper of dirt from that excavation."
Conway faced Parker.
"Am I to continue operations?" he demanded. "I have acost-plus-fifteen-per-cent. contract with you, Mr. Parker, and if youare not going to be in position to go through with it, I want to knowit now."
"In the absence of Mr. Farrel's permission, I have no alternative saveto ask you to suspend operations, Mr. Conway," Parker answeredbitterly. "I expect, of course, to settle with you for the abruptcancellation of the contract, but I believe we are both reasonable menand that no difficulty will arise in that direction."
"I'm naturally disappointed, Mr. Parker. I have a good crew and I liketo keep the men busy--particularly when good men are as hard toprocure as they are nowadays. However, I realize your predicament, andI never was a great hand to hit a man when he was down."
"Thank you, Mr. Conway. If you will drop in at the ranch-houseto-morrow for dinner, we can put you up for the night, I dare say." Heglanced at Farrel, who nodded. "We can then take up the matter ofcompensation for the cancelled contract."
"In the meantime, then, I might as well call the job off and stop theexpense," Conway suggested. "We'll load up the equipment and pull outin the morning."
"Why be so precipitate, Mr. Conway?" Don Mike objected, almostfiercely. "You always were the most easy-going, tender-hearted oldscout imaginable, and that's why you've never been able to afford a newautomobile. Now, I have a proposition to submit to you, Mr. Conway,and inasmuch as it conflicts radically with Mr. Parker's interests, Ifeel that common courtesy to him indicates that I should voice thatproposition in his presence. With the greatest good will in lifetoward each other, nevertheless we are implacable opponents. Mr.Parker has graciously spread, face up on the table for my inspection,an extremely hard hand to beat; so now it's quite in order for me tospring my little joker and try to take the odd trick. Mr. Conway, Iwant you to do something for me. Not for my sake or the sake of mydead father, who was a good friend of yours, but for the sake of thisstate where we were both born and which we love because it issymbolical of the United States. I want you to stand pat and refuse tocancel this contract. Insist on going through with it and make Mr.Parker pay for it. He can afford it, and he is good for it. He willnot repudiate a promise to pay while he has money in bank or securitiesto hypothecate. He is absolutely responsible financially. He owns acontrolling interest in the First National Bank of El Toro, and he hasa three-hundred-thousand-dollar equity in this ranch in the shape of afirst mortgage ripe for foreclosure--you can
levy on those assets if hedeclines to go through with the contract. Force him to go through;force him, old friend of my father and mine and enemy of all Japanese!For God's sake, stand by me! I'm desperate, Mr. Conway--"
"Call me 'Bill,' son," Conway interrupted gently.
"You know what the Farrels have been up against always, Bill," Don Mikepleaded. "That easy-going Spanish blood! But, Bill, I'm a throw-back.By God, I am! Give me this chance--this God-given chance--and thefifty-per-cent, Celtic strain in me and the twenty-five-per-cent.Gaelic that came with my Galvez blood will save the San Gregorio towhite men! Give me the water, Bill; give me the water that will makemy valley bloom in the August heat, and then, with the tremendousincrease in the value of the land, I'll find somebody, some place, whowill trust me for three hundred thousand paltry dollars to give thisman and save my ranch. This is a white-man's country, and John Parkeris striving, for a handful of silver, to betray us and make it a yellowparadise."
His voice broke under the stress of his emotion; he gulped and thetears welled to his eyes.
"Oh, Bill, for God's sake don't fail me!" he begged. "You're aCalifornian! You've seen the first Japs come! Only fifteen years ago,they were such a rare sight the little boys used to chase them andthrow rocks at them just to see them run in terror. But the littleboys do not throw rocks at them now, and they no longer run. They havethe courage of numbers and the prompt and forceful backing of apowerful fraternity across the Pacific. You've seen them spreadgradually over the land--why, Bill, just think of the San Gregorio fiveyears hence--the San Gregorio where you and I have hunted quail since Iwas ten years old. You gave me my first shot-gun--"
"Sonny," said old Bill Conway gently, passing his arm across Farrel'sshoulders, "I wish to goodness you'd shut up! I haven't got threehundred thousand dollars, nor a tenth of it. If I had it I'd give itto you now and save argument. But I'll tell you what I have got, son,and that's a sense of humor. It's kept me poor all my life, but if youthink it will make you rich you're welcome to it." He looked up, andhis glance met Kay's. "This chap's a limited edition," he informed hergravely. "After the Lord printed one volume, he destroyed the plates.Mr. Parker, sir--" He stepped up to John Parker and smote the latterlightly on the breast--"Tag; you're it!" he announced pleasantly."I'll cancel this contract when you hand me a certified check; fortwenty-four billion, nine-hundred and eighty-two million, four hundredand seventeen thousand, six hundred and one dollars, nine cents, andtwo mills."
"Conway," Parker answered him quietly, "I like your sense of humor,even if it does hurt. However, you force me to fight the devil withfire. Still, for the sake of the amenities, we should always makeformal declaration of war before beginning hostilities."
"And that's a trick you didn't learn in Japan," the old contractorreminded him.
"So I hereby declare war. I'm a past master at holding hard towhatever I do not wish the other fellow to take away from me, so buildyour dam and be damned to you. Of course, if you complete yourcontract eventually, you will force me to pay you for it, but in theinterim you will have had to use clam-shells and woodpecker heads formoney. I know I can stave off settlement of your judgment for a year;after that, should I acquire title to the Rancho Palomar, I will settlewith you promptly."
"And if you shouldn't acquire title, I shall look to my young friend,Don Miguel Farrel, for reimbursement. While at present the future maylook as black to Mike as the Earl of Hell's riding-boots, his credit isgood with me. Is this new law you've promulgated retroactive?"
"What do you mean?"
"You'll settle with me for all work performed up to the moment of thisbreak in diplomatic relations, won't you?"
"That's quite fair, Conway. I'll do that." Despite the chagrin ofhaving to wage for the nonce a losing battle, Parker laughed heartilyand with genuine sincerity. Don Mike joined with him and the chargedatmosphere cleared instantly.
"Bill Conway, you're twenty-four carat all through." Farrel laid a handaffectionately on his father's old friend. "Be sure to come down tothe hacienda tomorrow night and get your check. We dine at six-thirty."
"As is?" Conway demanded, surveying his rusty old business suit andhard, soiled hands.
"'As is,' Bill."
"Fine! Well, we've come to a complete understanding without fallingout over it, haven't we?" he demanded of Kay and her mother. "Withmalice toward none and justice toward all--or words to that effect.Eh?"
"Oh, get back into your office, Conway, and cast up the account againstme. Figure a full day for the men and the mules, although our breakcame at half-past three. I'm a contrary man, but I'm not small. Comeon, Mr. Farrel, let's go home," Parker suggested.
"Little birds in their nest should agree," old Conway warned, as, witha sweep of his battered old hat to the ladies, he turned to re-enterhis office. With a nod of farewell, John Parker and his wife startedriding down the draw, while Farrel turned to unloosen his saddle-girthand adjust the heavy stock-saddle on the pinto's back. While he wasthus engaged, Kay rode up to the door of Conway's rough little office,bent down from Panchito, and peered in.
"Bill Conway!" she called softly.
Bill Conway came to the door.
"What's the big idea, Miss Parker?"
The girl glanced around and saw that Don Mike was busy with the latigo,so she leaned down, drew her arm around the astounded Conway's neck,and implanted on his ruddy, bristly cheek a kiss as soft--so BillConway afterward described it--as goose-hair.
"You build that dam," she whispered, blushing furiously, "and see to itthat it's a good dam and will hold water for years. I'm the reserve inthis battle--understand? When you need money, see me, but, oh, pleasedo not tell Don Mike about it. I'd die of shame."
She whirled Panchito and galloped down the draw, with Miguel Farrelloping along behind her, while, from the door of his shack of anoffice, old Bill Conway looked after them and thoughtfully rubbed acertain spot on his cheek. Long after the young folks had disappearedround the base of El Palomar, he continued to gaze. Eventually he wasbrought out of his reverie when a cur dog belonging to one of theteamsters on the grading gang thrust a cold muzzle into his hand.
"Purp," murmured Mr. Conway, softly, "this isn't a half-bad old world,even if a fellow does grow old, and finds himself hairless andchildless and half broke and shackled to the worst automobile in theworld, bar none. And do you know why it isn't such a rotten world assome folks claim? No? Well, I'll tell you, purp. It's because itkeeps a-movin'. And do you know what keeps it a-movin'? Purp, it'slove!"