CHAPTER III
THE RANCH
Dusk was not far away when the boys, stumbling down a low hillside, cameinto sight of an oblong clearing in the forest with a wooden housestanding on one side of it. That was all Frank noticed, for he found itdifficult to keep himself on his feet, and his sight seemed hazy.Indeed, he fell down once or twice in the steeper places, and had sometrouble in getting up; and after that he had only a confusedrecollection of crossing an open space and entering a dwelling. A manshook hands with him, and a woman in a print dress made him sit down ina low chair before she set out a bountiful meal. Soon after he had eatena considerable share of it Harry led him into a very little room where abed like a shelf with a side to it was fixed against one wall. Fiveminutes later he was blissfully unconscious of his recent painfulexperience.
The sun was streaming in through the window when he awoke, feelingwonderfully refreshed, and, dressing himself in some overalls which hadbeen laid across the foot of his bed, he walked out into the largergeneral room. It had uncovered walls of logs and a very roughly boardedfloor, and there seemed to be little in it besides a stove, a table andseveral chairs.
A brown-faced man with a little gray in his hair sat at one end of thetable and at the other end sat a woman resembling him and of about thesame age. Harry, sitting between them, was apparently engaged innarrating their adventures. Frank, who took the place laid out for him,found that his supper had not spoiled his breakfast, for he fell uponthe pork, potatoes, dried apricots, hot cakes and syrup with anexcellent appetite. When the meal was over, the man led Frank intoanother room and filling his pipe asked him to sit down.
"We'd better have a talk," he said. "You can take the chair yonder."
Frank looked at him more closely when he sat down. Mr. Oliver, who wasdressed in duck overalls, was rather spare in figure, though he lookedwiry. His manner was quiet, and his voice was that of an educated man,but he had somewhat piercing gray eyes.
"I had a sincere regard for your father," he began. "On that accountalone I should be glad to have you here; but first of all we had betterunderstand each other. You mentioned that you had been in business inMinneapolis and afterward in Winnipeg. Didn't you like it?"
"No, sir," replied Frank, who felt that it would be wiser to answercarefully any questions this man might ask. "Still, that wasn't exactlywhy I gave it up, though"--and he hesitated--"to say I gave it up isn'tquite correct."
"If I remember, you called it being fired, in your letter," Mr. Oliversuggested with a twinkle in his eyes. "What led up to that?"
"Slack trade in the last case. I'd like to think it was only the grudgea bullying clerk had against me in the other."
"Then, if you had been allowed, you would have stayed with the millingbusiness, though you didn't care for it?"
"Yes," responded Frank. "Anyway, I'd have stayed until I could have gothold of something I liked better."
Mr. Oliver nodded in a way which suggested that he was pleased with theanswer.
"Well," he said, "that brings us to the question why you came out here.Was it because you had heard that it was a good country for hunting andfishing?"
Frank's face flushed. "No, sir," he replied, "I wanted to earn a living,and I understood that a"--he was going to say a live man, but thoughtbetter of it--"any one who wasn't too particular could generally comeacross something to do quickest in the West. In fact, I'd like to beginat once. After buying my ticket and getting odd meals I've only two orthree dollars left."
"Two-fifty, to be precise. My sister took your clothes away to mend.Now, it's possible that I might manage to get you into the office ofsome lumber or general trading company in one of the cities. How wouldthat do?"
"I'd rather go on to the land. I'd like to be a rancher."
"How much do you know about ranching?"
"Very little, but I could soon learn."
It was Frank's first blunder, and he realized it as he saw the gleam ofamusement in Mr. Oliver's eyes.
"It's by no means certain," commented the latter. "There are men whocan't learn to use the ax in a lifetime. We'll let it go at that, andsay you're willing to learn. Have you any idea of making money byranching?"
Frank thought a moment. "Well," he said finally, "I'd naturally wish tomake some, but I don't think that counts for most with me. I'd ratherhave the kind of life I like."
"The trouble with a good many men is that when they get it they find outthey like something else. Quite sure that hunting and fishing aren'ttaking too prominent a place in your mind? If they are, I'd better tellyou that the favorite amusement in this country is chopping down bigtrees. There's another fact that you must consider. It takes a good dealof money to buy a ranch and, unless it's already cleared, you have towait a long while before you get any of the money back. This place costme about nine thousand dollars, one way or another, and in allprobability there's not a business on the Pacific Slope in which Iwouldn't get twice as much as I'm getting here for the money, thoughI've been here a good many years. Now what do you expect to do with twodollars and a half?"
What he had heard had been somewhat of a shock to Frank, and thequestion was difficult to answer.
"I might earn a little more by degrees, sir," he said hopefully.
Mr. Oliver smiled at him encouragingly.
"It's possible; and there's cheaper land than mine, while a smart manused to the country can often get hold of a small contract of some kind.Now I'll tell you what we'll do. Wait a month, and then if you find thatyou like the life I'll hire you for what anybody else would give you."
With that he arose, signifying that the discussion was over, and Frankwent out of doors and joined Harry in the clearing. The latter held abig handspike with an arched iron hook hinged to it, and he invitedFrank to assist him in rolling logs.
"It will give you some idea how a ranch is cleared," he said. "To beginwith, you had better take a look around."
Frank did so and first of all noticed the rather rambling house, part ofwhich was built of logs notched into one another at the ends, though therest, which had evidently been added to it later, was of sawed lumber.It was roofed with what he fancied were red cedar shingles. On the otherside of it, carefully fenced off with tall split rails, stood orderlyranks of trees, some in delicate pink and white blossom. Harry told himthey were apples and prunes and peaches. Nearer him were one or twofields of timothy grass and fresh green oats, and then more of thelatter growing among fern-engirdled stumps sawed off some six feet abovethe ground. Beyond them, in turn, half-burned branches were strewnamong another stretch of stumps, then there was a narrow belt wheregreat trees lately chopped lay in tremendous ruin, and behind them againthe forest rose in an unbroken wall.
"Now," explained Harry, "you have the whole thing in front of you, ifyou'll begin at the bush and work back toward the house. First you chopdown the trees, then you burn them up and raise your first crop or tworound the stumps. Afterward by degrees you grub up the stumps and getthe clean, tilled land. When it's been worked a few years it will growalmost anything."
"But where's the stock?" Frank asked. "I had a notion that a ranch was aplace where you raised no end of horses or cattle."
"That's on the plains," laughed Harry. "On this side of the Rockies it'sany piece of cleared land with a house on it. At quite a few of theranches they raise nothing but fruit. As you asked the question, though,our cattle are in the bush. They run there and live on what they canfind until we round them up. Now we'll get to work."
He turned away after a pair of brawny oxen that were plodding leisurelyacross the clearing, and in a little while they halted on the edge ofwhat Harry called the slashing. This was a belt of fallen timber whichran around most of the open space. As Frank gazed at the chaos of greattrunks and mighty branches he felt inclined to wonder how Mr. Oliver hadmanaged to get them down.
"What will you do with these?" he asked.
"Saw or chop off the bigger branches," Harry answered. "Then we'll waituntil the trunks are
good and dry in the fall and put a fire to them. Itwill burn up all the small stuff, and leave them like this."
He pointed to the rows of blackened and partly burned logs which laybetween the slashing and the half-cleared soil, and Frank noticed thatmost of them had been sawed into several pieces.
"Couldn't you sell them for lumber?" he inquired.
"No," replied Harry. "For one thing, it's quite a long way to thenearest mill and we'd have to build a skidway for a mile or two down tothe water. Besides, in a general way, it's only the redwood and redcedar that the mills have much use for."
Then he gave Frank a handspike that lay close by, and between them theyprized up one end of a log so that he could slip a chain sling under it.The other end of the chain was attached to the yoke of the oxen, andwhen he called them the big white and red beasts hauled the log awayuntil he stopped them and went back for another. Frank did not find muchdifficulty in this, but it was different when they had drawn six orseven of the logs together and laid them side by side. Harry said thatthe next lot must go on top of the others, and Frank was wondering howthey were to get them there, when his companion laid two or three stoutskids some distance apart against the first of the row. These, it wasevident, would serve as short, slanting bridges, but Frank was still notclear as to how the next log could be propelled up them.
When Harry brought it up he slipped the chain along toward its middle,though it cost the boys an effort to prize the mass up with theirhandspikes, after which he made one end of the chain fast on theopposite side of the row, around which he led the oxen. The other end hehooked to their yoke, so that it now led doubled across the row andaround the trunk they wished to raise. He said that when the chain waspulled the log would roll up it. He next shouted to the oxen, whoplodded forward straining at the yoke, while he and Frank slipped theirhandspikes under opposite ends of the log.
"Heave!" he cried. "Send her up!"
Frank did his utmost, with the perspiration dripping from him and theveins on his forehead swelling, but the ponderous mass rolled veryslowly up the skids, and several times he fancied it would drag the oxenbackward and slide down on him. Indeed, for about half a minute it hungstationary, though Harry, who dared not draw out his handspike, shoutedfrantic encouragement to the straining beasts. Then it moved anotherinch or two, and one released skid shot up as though fired out of a gunwhen the log rolled upon the first of the preceding ones. They worked itwell across them, and then freeing the chain went back for another,though Frank's arms felt as if they had been almost pulled out of theirsockets.
"You want somebody to keep the oxen up to it as well as two to heave,when the logs are as big as these," said his companion. "Still, some ofthe small ranchers do the whole thing alone."
Frank could not help wondering what kind of men these were, but in themeanwhile he was obliged to bend all his thought on his difficult task,which grew heavier when, having ranged the logs in two layers, theycommenced the third. The skids were now too short to reach the top ofthe second tier without making the slope rather steep and Harry saidthat they must cut some new ones. A couple of axes lay close by, andhanding one to Frank he strode into the bush and stopped in front of ayoung fir.
"The butt ought to make a skid," he said. "I'll leave you to get it downand I'll look for another. You do it like this."
Spreading his feet apart and balancing himself lightly, he swung theheavy, long-hafted ax above his head. The big blade, descending, burieditself in the trunk, and rose with a flash when he wrenched it clear.This time he struck horizontally and a neat wedge-shaped chip flew out.
"Now," he said, handing the ax to Frank, "you can go ahead."
He turned away and Frank swung the ax experimentally once or twice. Thething looked easy. Whirling up the blade, he struck with all his might.It came down into the notch Harry had made, but it was the flat of itthat struck, and, while the haft jarred his hands, the blade glanced andjust missed his leg. This appeared somewhat extraordinary, and he was alittle more cautious when he tried again. He hit the tree fairly thistime, but almost a foot above the cut, and he was commencing to feelindignant when he dragged the steel out again, which in itself was notparticularly easy. He then struck horizontally, but the blade did notseem to go in at all, and at the next attempt the ax buried itself inthe soil, just grazing his boot. This steadied him, for he had no desireto lame himself for life. Shortening his hold upon the haft, he used itafter the manner of a domestic chopper, until at length, when his handswere blistered and he was very hot, the tree went down with a crash.Then turning around he saw Harry watching him with a look of amusement.
"Have you got yours down?" Frank asked.
"Oh, yes," Harry replied, "and another. I've chopped them through forskids." He pointed to the hacked and splintered log. "Looks as ifsomething had been eating it, doesn't it?"
Frank's face grew rather red. "You couldn't expect me to drop into itall at once. Give me a week or two to pick up the swing and balance ofit."
"A week or two!" Harry seemed to address the clustering firs. "They sureraise smart folks back East."
"How long were you learning?" retorted Frank.
"Well," said Harry thoughtfully, "you could call it most of twelveyears. I used to go whittling with a toy tomahawk soon after I couldwalk. Of course, they confiscated the thing now and then. Once it wasafter I'd just brought down a one-leg round table."
"Did you ever cut yourself?"
Harry rolled up his trousers and pointed to a big white mark below hisknee.
"I could show you two or three more of them," he commented dryly. "Thereare quite a few bush ranchers who haven't got all their toes on."
He cut a skid from the butt of the log, and when they went back to thepile the work which before had been hard now became more or lessdangerous. They had to prize and sometimes shoulder up the ponderousmasses of timber three-high, and Frank was far from feeling over theeffects of the previous two-days' march. Still, if his companion couldmanage it, he was determined that he could, and he toiled on, soaked inperspiration, straining and gasping over one of the heaviest tasksconnected with clearing land, until to his vast relief Miss Oliverappeared in the doorway, jingling a cowbell as a signal that dinner wasready.
They went back to work after the meal, and Frank somehow held out untilthe middle of the afternoon. It seemed very hot in the clearing and thescorching sunrays beat down upon the back of his neck and shoulders. Oneof his horribly blistered hands commenced to bleed, he was almost afraidto straighten his back, and his arms were sore all over. At last as theywere heaving up a heavy log it stuck just on the edge of the tier andFrank, who felt his breath failing him and his heart beating as thoughit would burst, could hear the oxen scuffling furiously on the otherside of the pile.
"Heave!" Harry shouted. "Another inch will land her!"
"I can't!" Frank panted, with his hands slipping upon the lever.
"Then look out!" warned Harry. "Let go of the thing and jump!"
Frank did not remember whether he let go or whether the handspike wastorn from his grasp, but he jumped backward as far as he could andstaggered a few paces farther when he saw the big log rolling down afterhim. Then he fell headlong, there was a crash and a great trampling ofhoofs, and he wondered whether the log would crush the life out of him.When he scrambled to his feet, however, it had stopped not far away; andin a few moments Harry appeared from behind the pile.
"It pulled the oxen backward right up to the logs," he explained. Thenhe looked sharply at Frank. "We haven't done badly for one day, and AuntSophy wants me to haul in some stovewood. You sit there and restyourself awhile."
He went away with the oxen, and Frank was thankful to do as he was told,for his heart was heavy and he was utterly worn out. His hands were tornand blistered and the logs that he had partly lifted with his body hadbruised his breast and ribs. If this was ranching, it was horrible work,and he felt that he would break down altogether if he attempted muchmore of it. It was nothing like his dream
of riding through the bush onspirited horses after half-wild cattle. Then the troublesome question asto what he should do if he gave it up had to be faced. He had found thathe had no aptitude for business, and he had a suspicion that work wouldbe quite as hard in a logging camp or in a sawmill. It was clear that hecould not go home, even if he had the money for his fare, which was notthe case, and he felt very forlorn and miserable.
In the meanwhile the twigs he lay upon were pleasantly soft, and it wascool and peaceful in the lengthening shadow of the firs. There was acurious rhythmic drumming sound which he found most soothing and whichhe afterward learned was made by a blue grouse not far away. The pungentsmell of withering fir and cedar sprays in the slashing dulled hissenses, until at last his troubles seemed to melt away and he fanciedthat he was back in Boston where nobody had ever required him to heaveponderous logs upon one another.
It was a couple of hours later when Mr. Oliver, walking back that waywith Harry, stopped and looked at the pile.
"You have put all those up since this morning?" he asked.
Harry said that they had done so, and Mr. Oliver glanced down with alittle smile at Frank, who lay fast asleep.
"It's rather more than I expected. The lad must have done his share, butit might have been better if you had started him at something easier."
"He stood it all right until a while ago, and I think he'd have seen methrough if it hadn't been for the walk yesterday. Shall we crosscut someof those branches to-morrow instead?"
"No," replied Mr. Oliver after a moment's reflection. "It might be wiserto let him see the worst of it. If he stands a week's logging there's nodoubt that he'll do." He paused a moment and looked down at Frank again."I don't think he'll back down on it. He's very much like his father, asI remember him a good many years ago."
Then he laid his hand on Frank's shoulder.
"Get up, boy. Supper's ready."