The Homesteaders: A Novel of the Canadian West

  CHAPTER XII

  A WHIFF OF NEW ATMOSPHERE

  Riles found the journey westward a tiresome affair. His was a souldevoid of enthusiasm over Nature's wealth or magnitude, and the viewof the endless prairie excited in him no emotion other than a certainvague covetousness. It was his first long rail journey in over twentyyears, but his thoughts were on the cost of travel rather than on thewonderful strides which had been made in its comfort and convenience.Riles indulged in no such luxuries as sleeping-car berths or mealsserved in the diner, and two nights in a crowded day-coach, with suchhasty meals as could be bought for a quarter at wayside stations,made the journey a somewhat exhausting one. Back in the observationcar, sleek commercial travellers, well groomed and well dressed andenveloped in comfortable self-satisfaction, gravely discussedpolitics, business or real estate, or exchanged the latest titbits ofwit accumulated in their travels. Riles probably could have boughtand paid for the worldly possessions of the whole group, and havestill a comfortable balance in the bank. But a sleeper berth cost theprice of two bushels of wheat, and even in a good year Riles' cropseldom exceeded ten thousand bushels.

  As fate would have it, Riles selected as the base of his homesteadoperations the very foothill town to which Beulah Harris had come afew weeks before. He sought out the cheapest hotel, and having thrownhis few belongings on the bed, betook himself to the bar-room, whichseemed the chief centre of activity, not only of the hotel itself,but of the little town. Men were, lined three deep against thecapacious bar, shouting, swearing, and singing, and spending theirmoney with an abandon not to be found in millionaires. Riles was nogreat student of human nature; he had a keener eye for a horse than afellow-man, but the motley crowd interested and, in a certain way,amused him. Land-seekers, some in overalls and flannel shirts, somein ready-mades with dirty celluloid collars and cheap, gaudyties--big, powerful men with the muscles and manners of thehorse--and others, lighter of frame, who apparently made an easierand a better living by the employment of their brains; cowboys inschaps and sun-burn and silk handkerchiefs; ranchers, stately Englishand French stock, gentlemen still five thousand miles from the placeof their breeding; lumbermen and river-drivers, iron bodies set withquick, combative intellects; guides, locaters, freighters, landdealers, gamblers, sharks, and hangers-on wove back and forth plyingthe shuttle from which the fabric of a new nation must be wrought.

  Riles debated with himself whether the occasion justified theexpenditure of ten cents for a drink when a hand was placed on hisshoulder, and a voice said, "Have one with me, neighbour." He foundhimself addressed by a man of about his own age, shorter and somewhatlighter of frame and with a growing hint of corpulence. The strangerwore a good pepper-and-salt suit, and the stone on his finger dancedlike real diamond.

  "Don't mind if I do, since y' mention it," said Riles, with anattempted smile which his bad eye rendered futile. One of thebartenders put something in his glass which cut all the way down, butRiles speedily forgot it in a more exciting incident. The man in thepepper-and-salt suit had laid half a dollar on the bar, _and nochange came back_. Riles congratulated himself on his own narrowescape.

  "You'll be looking for land?" inquired the stranger, when both werebreathing easily again.

  "Well, maybe I am, and maybe I ain't," said Riles guardedly. He hadheard something of the ways of confidence men, and was determined notto be taken for an easy mark.

  "A man of some judgment, I see," said his new acquaintance, quiteunabashed. "Well, I don't blame you for keeping your own counsel. Therush of people and money into the West has brought all kinds offloaters in its train. Why"--with growing confidence--"the othernight--"

  What happened the other night remained untold, for at that momentcame a clattering of horse's hoofs on the wooden walk at the door,and a moment later a gaily arrayed cowboy rode right into the room,his horse prancing and bodying from side to side to clear the crowdaway, then facing up to the bar as though it were his manger. Rilesexpected trouble, and was surprised when the feat evoked a cheer fromthe bystanders.

  "That's Horseback George," said the man in the pepper-and-salt. "Theysay he sleeps on his horse. Rides right into a bar as a matter ofcourse, and maybe shoots a few bottles off the shelves as ademonstration before he goes out. But he always settles, and nobodymind his little peculiarities."

  Horseback George treated himself twice, proffering each glass to hishorse before touching it himself, and stroking with one hand theanimal's ears as he raised the liquor to his lips. Then he threw abill at the bar-tender and, with a wild whoop, slapped the horse'slegs with his hat, and dashed at a gallop out of the bar-room andaway down the trail.

  The stranger was about to resume his conversation when a big fellownear by shouted in a loud, raucous voice, "Come, pard, set 'er up.Who's drinkin with me?"

  No one answered, and the big man looked about the crowd with adeepening scowl.

  "So you're not drinkin'?" he said. "Fill two glasses, pard, and set'em right there." He turned his back to the bar, resting his elbowson it, and surveyed the crowd contemptuously, meanwhile chewing amouthful of tobacco with a rapid, swinging motion of the jaw.

  "Guess you fellows don't know who _I_ am," he said. "I--"

  "No, and don't give a damn," said a lumberjack near by.

  "Well, you will before you're through. You're goin' t' drink with me,an' you'll drink with both hands on the glass. Come up an' take yourmed'cine." As he spoke his hand rested on his hip-pocket.

  The head bar-tender poked him in the ribs. "No gun play here," hesaid. "You're not in Montana now."

  "I guess I know where I am," he retorted. "An' what d'ye think I packa gun for? T' tell the time by? This (not printable) is goin' t'drink with me, or I'll fix him so's you c'n see through him bothways." With the word he whipped out a revolver and fired into thefloor at the lumber-jack's feet, while a considerable part of thecrowd scurried for the door.

  "Put up your gun, you (equally unprintable)," shouted thelumber-jack, throwing his hat on the floor, "and I'll crack yourslats quicker'n you can count 'em."

  "It's all right, Pete," said the bar-tender, addressing thelumber-jack. "You can lick him hands down, but that won't pay thebills if you get in the road of a bullet. Now you," turning to theother, "stow that artillery, an' stow it quick, or I'll call theMounted Police."

  For answer the stranger took a handful of tobacco from his mouth, andwith a swing of his arm plastered it over the mirror behind the bar."That for the Mounted Police," he said. "Now there's goin' t' be somedrinkin' or some shootin', an' maybe a little o' both." He ploughedthe floor with another bullet, and the crowd again visibly thinnedaway. Riles had backed into a corner; the man in the pepper-and-saltsuit had disappeared.

  Having no weapon, the lumber-jack kept his distance, but if epithetscould kill his bullying provoker would have been carried out acorpse. The man with the revolver, on the other hand, seemed takinghis time, playing with his victim, like a wild beast sure of hisprey.

  Suddenly there was another stir about the door, and a young fellow inscarlet tunic and yellow-striped riding-pants walked briskly in. Hislithe figure, his clean boyish face, his military alertness, were instriking contrast to the ambling, carelessly-dressed crowd. He hadtaken in the situation at a glance, and walked, neither faster norslower, direct to the desperado. The latter found himself confrontedby an unexpected dilemma. If he took his gun off the lumber-jack tocover the policeman he knew perfectly well that the promisedslat-cracking process would begin immediately. If the policeman hadonly stood at the door and ordered him to put up his gun, orparleyed, or thought of his skin as a policeman should, he would havehad time to plan his campaign. But this boy in scarlet was arevelation of something new in policemen. It was only eight stepsfrom the door to where the outlaw stood, and those eight steps atparade pace occupied about three seconds. The gentleman from Montanawas quick enough with his gun, but not particularly nimble inintellect, and he never faced a situation quite like this before.What was this policeman g
oing to do, anyway? Would he never stop anddeliver his ultimatum? He had not even drawn his gun!

  By this time the policeman was beside him. He did not seize him, norshout at him, nor menace him in any way, yet somewhere in his mannerand bearing was a sense of irresistible power.

  "Perhaps you don't know that it's against the law to flourish arevolver in this country," he said. "Better let me keep it for youuntil you are leaving town."

  "Against the law!" said the ruffian, now recovering himself. "That'sa good one. Why, ever'thin' I've done for twenty years has beenagainst the law. I cracked up the law for chicken-grit years ago."

  "Not the Canadian law," said the Mounted Policeman. "You'll onlyoffend against it once, and it won't be the law that gets cracked."

  "Thas' so?" sneered the other. "Then what'll happen?"

  "I'll arrest you."

  "You? I could eat you in three bites. I can lick you with one hand."

  "How many like me do you think you could lick?" asked the policeman,with imperturbable composure.

  The man from Montana had removed his eye from the lumber-jack, whowas now dancing about in menacing attitudes.

  "Forget it, Pete," ordered the policeman. "Now, how many like me canyou lick?"

  "About six," said the other, speaking with much deliberation.

  "All right," said Sergeant Grey. "Then my chief would send seven.Now, will you come with me or wait for the seven? By the way," hecontinued, "the lock-up is a sort of beastly place to stow a man,especially when he's visiting the country for the first time. I thinkI'll let you sleep here, on your promise to appear in court at tento-morrow morning. Let me help you to your room. But first, I'll haveto trouble you for your gun."

  "What if I clear out through the night?"

  "You won't--not very far." There was a metallic ring in the lastwords that penetrated the shell of the man who had made a business ofbreaking law for twenty years, and he finally handed over hisrevolver.

  "Search me if I know why I do it," he said, turning to thebar-tender. "I could eat that kid in three bites."

  "Yes," said the man behind. "But you couldn't digest the wholeBritish Empire, and that's what you've got to do if you startnibbling on any part of it. Besides, he mightn't make as easy chewin'as you think. You'd find him more brisket than sirloin when you getyour teeth into him. I've seen him throw an' handcuff a bigger manthan you right in this room, an' never turn a hair in doin' it. An'take it from me, stranger, what he says about sendin' seven if thejob's too big for six is gospel, an' the quicker you get that in yourblock the safer your hide'll be in Canada."

  Sharp at ten the next morning the man who made a business of breakingthe law appeared before the magistrate, paid a fine of fifty dollars,and surrendered his weapon to the King's officers for good. When hereturned to the hotel and demanded his bill for the night's lodginghe was surprised to learn he had none.

  "Sergeant Grey settled for you," said the clerk with a faint smile."Said you were his guest last night."

  It was the first time in a long experience that he had found that lawcould be rigorous and yet absolutely just. It upset his whole crudephilosophy of his relation to society and the State, and stretchedbefore him the straight and easy road to citizenship.

  To return to the scene of the night before. When the bar-room hadsettled down to normal, and no one showed a disposition to do anygeneral buying, Riles betook himself to his room. He had just gotinto bed when a knock came at the door.

  "Who's there?" he demanded.

  "Gen'l'man to see Mr. Riles," said the porter.

  "Well, shoot 'im in. The door ain't locked," said Riles, inconsiderable wonderment as to who his visitor might be.

  The door opened, and a well-dressed man of average height, withcarefully combed hair and clean-shaven face, save for a lightmoustache, stood revealed in the uncertain glow of the match withwhich Riles was endeavouring to find his lamp. His visitor was a manof twenty-eight or thirty years, with clear eyes and well-cut face,and yet with some subtle quality in his expression that implied thatunder his fair exterior lay a deep, cunning, and that he was a mannot to be trusted in matters where his own interests might be atstake.

  "Hello, Hiram," he said quietly. "You didn't figure on seeing mehere, did you?"

  At first glance Riles did not recognize him, and he raised the oillamp to turn the light better on the stranger's face.

  "Well, if it ain't Gardiner!" he exclaimed. "Where in Sam Hill didyou come from?"

  "It's a big country, Hiram," he said with a touch of bitterness, "butnot big enough for a fellow to lose himself in." He sat down on theside of the bed and lit a cigar, tendering another to Riles, and thetwo men puffed in silence for a few minutes.

  "Yes, I've hit a lot of trail since I saw you last," he continued,"and when you're in the shadow of the Rockies you're a long piecefrom Plainville. How's the old burg? Dead as ever?"

  "About the same," said Riles. "You don't seem t' be wastin' no loveon it."

  "Nothing to speak of," said the other, slowly flicking the ash fromhis cigar. "Nothing to speak of. You know I got a raw deal there,Hiram, and it ain't likely I'd get enthusiastic over it."

  "Well, when a fellow gets up against the law an' has t' clear out,"said Riles, with great candour, "that's his funeral. As for me, Iain't got nothin' agen Plainville. You made a little money thereyourself, didn't you?"

  The younger man leaned back and slowly puffed circles of fragrantsmoke at the ceiling, while Riles surveyed him from the head of thebed. He had been a business man in Plainville, but had becomeinvolved in a theft case, and had managed to escape from the townsimply because a fellow-man whom he had wronged did not trouble topress the matter against him. Riles' acquaintance with him had notbeen close; except in a business way they had moved in other circles,and he was surprised and a little puzzled that Gardiner should findhim out on the first night of his presence in the New West.

  Gardiner showed no disposition to reopen the conversation aboutPlainville, so at last Riles asked, "How d'you know I was here?"

  "Saw your scrawl on the register," he said, "and I've seen it toooften on wheat tickets to forget it. Thought I'd look you up. Maybecan be of some service to you here. What are you chasing--more land?"

  "Well, I won't say that, exactly, but I kind o' thought I'd come outand look over some of this stuff the Gover'ment's givin' away, beforethe furriners gets it all. Guess if there's any-thin' free goin' usmen that pioneered one province should get it on the next."

  "You don't learn anything, Riles, do you? You don't know anythingmore about making money than you did twenty years ago."

  "Well, maybe I don't, and maybe I do, but I can pay my way, an' I cango back t' Plainville when I like, too."

  "Don't get hot," said Gardiner, with unshaken composure. "I'm justtrying to put you wise to yourself. Don't make any difference to meif you spend your whole life sod-busting; it's your life--spend itany way you like. But it's only men who don't know any better that goon to the land nowadays. It's a lot easier to make a living out offarmers than out of farming."

  "Well, p'r'aps so, but that's more in your line. I never--"

  "That's just what I say--you never learn. Now look at me. I ain'twearing my last suit, nor spending my last dollar, either, and Ihaven't done what you'd call a day's work since I came West. There'sother things so much easier to do."

  "Meanin'?--"

  "Oh, lots of things. Remittance men, for instance. These woods arefull of them. Chaps that never could track straight in the old ruts,and were sent out here where there aren't any ruts at all. They'renot a bad bunch; brought up like gentlemen, most of 'em; play thepiano and talk in three or four languages, and all that kind ofstuff, but they're simply dangerous with money. So when it comes tohand, in the public interest they have to be separated from it."

  "Sounds interestin'," said Riles.

  "'Tis, too, especially when one of 'em don't take to the treatmentand lays for you with a gun. But my hair's all there. That's whatc
omes of wearing a tall hat."

  "Tell me," said Riles, his face lit up with interest, "how d'ye doit?"

  "'Twouldn't do you any good," said Gardiner. "You've steered too manyplough-handles to be very nimble with your fingers. But there's oftenother game to be picked up, if a man knows where to look for it."

  "Well, I wisht I knew," Riles confessed. "Not anythin' crooked, y'know, but something like--well, something like you're doin'. I'veworked hard for ev'ry nickel I ever made, an' I reckon if there'seasy money goin' I've a right t' get some of it."

  "Now you're beginning to wake up. Though, mind you, some of it isn'tas easy as it looks. You've got to know your business, just likefarming or anything else. But you can generally land something tolive on, even if it ain't a big stake. Take me now, for instance. Iain't doing anything that a preacher mightn't do. Happened to fall inwith a fellow owns a ranch up the river here. Cleaned him empty onenight at cards--stood him up for his last cent, and he kind o' took anotion to me. Well, he's the son of a duke or an earl, or some suchthing, and not long ago the Governor goes and dies on him, leavinghim a few castles and bric-a-brac like that and some wagon-loads ofmoney. So he had to go home for the time being, and as he wantedsomeone to run his ranch, who should he think of but me. Suppose hethought if I happened to bet it at poker some night I wouldn't loseit, and that's some consideration. He's got a thousand acres or so ofland up there, with a dozen cayuses on it, and he gives metwenty-five pounds a month, with board and lodging and open credit atthe Trading Company, to see that it doesn't walk away in his absence.Besides that, I hire a man to do the work, and charge his wages up inthe expenses. Got a good man, too--one of those fellows who don'tknow any better than work for a living. By the way, perhaps you knowhim--comes from Plainville part--Travers his name is?"

  "Sure," said Riles. "He worked for Harris, until they had a row andhe lit out. It kind o' balled Harris up, too, although he'd neveradmit it. If he'd Travers there it'd be easier for him t' get awaynow."

  "Where's Harris going?"

  "He ain't goin'; he's comin'. Comin' out here in a few days after me.I'm his kind o' advance guard, spyin' out the land."

  "You don't say? Well, see and make him come through with theexpenses. If I was travelling for Jack Harris I wouldn't be sleepingin a hen-coop like this. He's worth yards of money, ain't he?"

  "Oh, some, I guess, but perhaps not so much more'n his neighbours."

  "Nothing personal, Riles. You've got to get over that narrowness ifyou're going to get into the bigger game I've been telling you about.I don't care how much you're worth--how much is Harris bringing withhim?"

  "Couple of hundred dollars, likely."

  "I wouldn't show my hand for that. How much can he raise?"

  "Well, supposin' he sold the old farm--"

  "Now don't do any reckless supposing. Will he sell the farm?"

  "Sure, he'll sell it if he sees something better."

  "How much can he get for it?"

  "Thirty or forty thousand dollars."

  "That's more like a stake. Hiram, it's up to you and me to show himsomething better--and to show it to him when he's alone...You'retired to-night. Sleep it out, and we'll drive over to the ranchto-morrow together. We ought to pick something better than ahomestead out of this."