The Homesteaders: A Novel of the Canadian West

  CHAPTER XIV

  THE GAMBLERS

  Harris found some difficulty in providing that affairs of the farmwould proceed satisfactorily during his absence, but at last theywere arranged, if not exactly to his liking, at least in a mannerthat promised no serious loss. It was most unfortunate that Mary, ina moment of headstrong passion quite without precedent in hisexperience of her, had determined upon a visit just at the time whenshe was particularly needed at home. If Harris had been quite fair hewould have remembered that there had been no time in the lasttwenty-five years when she had not been needed at home, and thepresent occasion was perhaps no less opportune for her visit thanmany others. But he felt a deep grievance over his wife's conduct,and while he missed her sorely he was determined that no act of hisshould shorten her visit or imply that the business of the farm wasin any way suffering from her absence. He had managed their affairssuccessfully in the past; he would continue to manage themsuccessfully in the future; and he only hoped that time would impressupon her the fact that he was doing everything for the best. Heassured himself that he was actuated only by a desire for the highestgood for his family, even while their disobedience and ingratituderendered his task unnecessarily difficult.

  The hired man, in consideration of having no field work to do,finally consented to milk the cows and deliver the milk daily to Mrs.Riles, who would convert it into butter--for a consideration of somuch per pound. To his good neighbours, the Grants, Harris turned forassurance that should he and Allan be delayed on their trip, orshould the harvest come in earlier than expected, ample steps wouldbe taken to garner it.

  So, with these arrangements complete, the farmer and his son droveinto Plainville one fine bright morning at the end of July, ready fortheir first long trip into the New West. Indeed, it was Allan's firstlong journey anywhere; an excursion to Winnipeg at the time of thesummer exhibition had been the limit of his experience of travel, andthe hard work of the farm had not yet extinguished the young man'sdesire for novelty and excitement. He looked forward to theirexpedition with a feeling akin to enthusiasm, and he secretlycherished the hope that their travels might bring them again into thecompany of his mother and sister, for whom, with the slackening oflabour, he now felt an increasing loneliness.

  Harris got off at the railway station to buy the tickets; Allan wentto the post office on the odd chance of any letters awaitingdelivery, and the hired man turned the horses homeward. The stationagent was threading his way through his car report, and remainedprovokingly unconscious of Harris's presence at the ticket window.The farmer took no pains to conceal his impatience, coughing andshuffling obviously, but it was not until the last box-car had beenduly recorded that the agent deigned to recognize his existence.

  "Nothing for you from--," he said, mentioning the mail order housefrom which Harris made most of his purchases.

  "Well, I didn't expect anythin'," retorted the farmer, "althoughyou're just as likely to have it when I don't as when I do. How muchis a ticket to Calgary?"

  "You got the land fever, too?" the agent asked, as he consulted histariffs. "Riles went up the other day. You'll be making a clean-up onthe cheap land, I suppose. But I tell you, Harris, if I'd a farm likeyours you couldn't pry me off it with a pinch-bar. No more worriesfor little Willie, and I'd leave the free land to those that haven'tgot any--like myself."

  "Worry!" snorted Harris. "What do you worry about? You get your pay,whether it freezes or hails or shrivels up with one of these Dakotascorchers."

  The agent thought of the piles of reports on his table, but as hethumped the stamp on the tickets he answered, "Oh, I worry over theMonroe doctrine." He left the farmer counting his change, and turnedto his reports. "Another money-grubber gone crazy with the heat," hemuttered. "If I'd his wad wouldn't I burn this wire with one hot,short sentence!"

  Harris met his son on the platform. "What d'ye think, Dad? A letterfrom Riles." He drew the crumpled missive from its envelope. "Lookslike a laundry ticket," he said, "but I figured it out, and he wantsyou to sell the farm and buy a coal mine."

  Harris read the letter through, not without some difficulty. At firsthe was inclined to laugh, but the earnestness of Riles impressed himthrough the makeshift English.

  "What d'ye think of it, Dad?" said the younger man, at length. "Ofcourse we don't know anything about coal, but then--"

  "It must look good to Riles or he wouldn't want to put any money init," commented Harris, after a few minutes' reflection. "Riles ispretty cautious. He's got money in the bank drawin' three per cent;he's afraid to lend it out among the farmers. And he ain't easytalked into a new scheme, either."

  "D'ye suppose we could sell the farm?" The idea of a big, profitablespeculation suddenly appealed to Allan with much greater force thanthe prospect of three years on a homestead. He knew that vast sums ofmoney had been made, and made quickly, in the Far West, but he hadnever before thought of himself or his father sharing in this suddenwealth. They had worked hard for their money, and took it as a matterof course that they should continue to work hard for it. But thevision of quick riches, the prospect of realizing it in his ownperson, the dizzy thought that Fortune, which had seemed to move in acircle quite apart from his existence, might actually now be within ahand's reach--these intoxicated him with a sudden hope which burstthe old bounds of his imagination and set up new and wilderambitions.

  "D'ye suppose we could sell the farm?" he repeated. It began to seemthat the short-cut to wealth hinged on the possibility of selling thefarm.

  "I guess we could sell it, all right," said Harris. "Maybe not forthat much cash, but we can get cash on the agreement, if we need it."He, too, found the inborn gaming instinct which cries out for moneywithout labour welling within him and surging up against hislong-established, sober judgment. But he was not a man to actprecipitately, or risk all on a single throw unless he were very,very sure of the result.

  "Of course, maybe it's all right," he continued. "But it's a goodthing to buy your buggy before you throw away your cart. If thisthing's as good as Riles says, it will keep until we can see it forourselves. If it don't, somethin' else'll turn up."

  "Yes," said Allan, "but if we find it's all right when we get there,and we've only a few measly hundred dollars along, we'll want to kickourselves all the way home. Lots of fellows are making big money justbecause they had some capital to work with, and why shouldn't we doit, too? Couldn't you fix it some way to get the money without comingback, if everything looks all right? That'd save time, and expensetoo."

  "There's something in that. There's time to see Bradshaw yet beforethe train comes. We'll kind o' leave it standin' in his hands."

  They made a hurried call on Bradshaw, the lawyer, and asked him to beon the look-out for a buyer for the farm.

  "Mind, I'm not actu'lly puttin' it up for sale," Harris cautionedhim, "but I want you to keep your eye open for a buyer. Fortythousand dollars takes the whole thing as a goin' concern, an' themore cash the better. Get a line on a buyer if you can, and if I sendyou word to sell, see, you sell, and if I don't send you word, don'tdo anythin'. You understand?"

  "I think I understand you perfectly," said the lawyer, who was also adealer in real estate. Indeed, since the activity in farm lands hadcommenced he might be said to be a real estate dealer who was also alawyer. "Not many buyers have that much ready cash, Mr. Harris, butit could no doubt be arranged to sell your agreement, or raise amortgage on the property, that would give you the whole amount inyour hand." Bradshaw, along with his other pursuits, was agent for amortgage company, and always valued two commissions higher than one.

  The lawyer wrote something on a sheet of paper. "This is a power ofattorney, which will enable me to complete the documents without thedelay of sending them to you, if you should decide to sell," heexplained. Harris signed the paper, and Allan witnessed it.

  With this understanding the journey westward was undertaken, andcompleted without event of importance. As his daughter had done a fewweeks before, and his wife still
later, Harris spent a few hours inthe young city just beginning to stir itself on the sleepy, sunnyslopes where the prairies ran into the foothills, stretching one lastlong tongue far up the valley of the Bow and lapping at the feet ofthe eternal snows. His original plan had been to spend a day or twoin Calgary, "sizing up" the land situation for himself before joiningRiles, but the possibilities of the coal mine speculation had grownupon him with every mile of the journey. He had only to use his earsto hear of so many men, apparently no more capable men than he andAllan, who had grown suddenly rich from fortunate investments. It wasa case of recognizing the opportunity when it presented itself, andhaving the nerve to seize it without hesitation. He found himself nowin a country and an atmosphere where "playing safe" was somewhat to aman's discredit--where the successful man was the man who dared tothrow discretion to the winds and take the chance. And because money,not earned in the country, was pouring in from outside, and by itsown buoyancy raising the price of land and labour, the chance, eventhe foolish chance, was likely to turn out to advantage and justifythe daring of the speculator rather than the discretion of thecareful buyer. Harris had, all his life, lived in an atmosphere ofconservatism, where saving a penny was greater merit than making two,but he was amazed to find how quickly the gambling spirit of the newland seized upon him. Unlike Riles, he was a man who responded to hisenvironment; in a community of hard-working, money-saving farmers heworked hardest and saved most; but in a community of reckless,unlicensed speculation he had the qualities which would soon make ofhim the greatest gambler of them all. He was astonished and somewhatfrightened by this hitherto unrevealed side of his own character. Hislong-dormant imagination began to revive; with imagination came hopeand optimism; and hope and optimism, unchecked, soon breedrecklessness. He saw the evidence of prosperity on every side--notthe prosperity that hedges itself about with socialisms and affecteddignity, but the prosperity that stays on the job in itsshirt-sleeves. He saw men who were doing big things--buildingrailways, opening up wildernesses, farming or carrying on businesstransactions on a scale of which he had never dreamed--and he beganto see that the only reason these men could do these things was thatthey dared to do them. Well, he too--he and Allan--would dare somethings...He paid a dollar for their lunch without a grumble, andagain they took the train.

  Riles met them on the station platform. He had met every train for aweek, as it had been agreed that it would be better that the Harrisesshould not visit Gardiner's ranch until plans were more fullydeveloped. Jim was still there, and Gardiner insisted that Jim shouldnot meet Harris at present. He allowed Riles to think that he fearedtrouble if former employer and employee should meet; as a matter offact, he feared that if their coal mine proposition should reach theears of Travers the young man would attempt to dissuade Harris fromhaving anything to do with it, or at least would urge a fullerinvestigation than might be desirable. Besides, he meant to make ofTravers an unwitting party to the affair.

  Riles, in overalls and shirt-sleeves, leaned against the iron rail atthe back of the station platform, his big hands stuffed in thebulging band of his trousers, and his under-jaw busy with an ampleration of tobacco. He watched the passengers alighting from the trainwith little interest; he had no particular expectations of meetingHarris on this occasion, and, if the truth be told, he had littledesire to meet him. Riles had no pangs of conscience over his part inthe plot against his old neighbour, but he had an uneasy feeling ofcowardice. When suddenly his eye fell on Harris and his big,strapping son, his first impulse was to slip away in the crowd beforethey should notice him. But it was only for a moment; the next,Harris was calling, "'Lo, Hiram," and the two were shaking hands asold friends met in a far country.

  "Didja get my letter?" asked Riles, ignoring the commonplaces withwhich it was their custom to introduce any important topic. "Didjasell the farm?"

  "I got the letter, Hiram, but I didn't sell the farm. Thought we'djust have a look over this coal mine before goin' into the businessaltogether."

  "H-s-h. Throttle your voice down. This place is full of men on thelook-out for somethin' like that, an' you can't keep it too darkuntil it's all settled."

  "Well, ain't we going to put up somewhere?" said Allan, breaking thesilence that followed Riles' warning. "There ought to be an Albertahotel here, somewhere. I saw one in every town for the last twohundred miles."

  "I got that beat," said Riles, with a snicker. "Boardin' on a lord,or duke, or somethin'."

  "Don't say?"

  "Yeh. You mind Gard'ner? Him 'at lit out from Plainville after thatstealin' affair?"

  "The one you got credit for bein' mixed up in?" said Allan, withdisconcerting frankness. "A lame kind of a lord he'd make. What abouthim?"

  "Well, he struck a soft thing out here, fo' sure. This lord I'mtellin' you about's gone off home over some bloomin' estate or other,an' Gard'ner's runnin' his ranch--his 'bloody-well rawnch' he callsit. Gets a good fat wad for ridin' round, an' hires a man to do thework. But it was Gard'ner put me on t' this coal mine deal."

  "Let's get settled first, and we'll talk about Gardiner and the mineafterwards," said Harris, and they joined the throng that was nowwending its way to the hotels.

  "How's your thirst, Hiram?" inquired Harris, after he had registered.

  "Pretty sticky," confessed Riles. "But they soak you a quarter towash it out here."

  "Well, I got a quarter."

  "A quarter apiece, I mean."

  "Well, I got a quarter apiece," said Harris. "Come on."

  Riles followed, astonishment over Harris's sudden liberality, andmisgiving as to how he himself could avoid a similar expenditure,struggling for uppermost place in his mind.

  "Pretty strong stuff they have here," he said, after Harris and Allanhad "set 'er up" in turn. "Keel you over if you don't watch it."

  "Does taste kind o' snakey," said Harris. "Guess that's enough forthis time. Now come upstairs and tell us all about this deal you haveon."

  When the travellers had thrown off their coats and vests, and allwere seated in the little bedroom, Riles cleared his throat.

  "Well, there ain't much t' tell yuh, more'n I said in m' letter," hestarted. "As I said, it's Gard'ner you'll have t' thank for thisthing, good or bad. I ain't a coal miner, an' I told him that, an' Itold him you wasn't neither, but he says that don't make nodifference. He says there's all kinds o' money in it, an' I reckonthat's what we came out here for, ain't it?"

  "Yes, provided the tiling's sound," said Harris. "Anyone can see withhalf an eye that there's easier ways of makin' money than bustin' upthis prairie sod for it. But you and me've worked hard for what we'vegot, Hiram, and we want t' go mighty careful about spendin' it."

  "I suppose you've sent home word to sell your farm, have you?" put inAllan. "You'll be chipping in at the same time?"

  "Oh, yes, I'll be chippin' in. Of course. But I didn't just say tosell the farm yet. I'll have t' get back an' straighten things upsome first. You see, I thought you'd get my letter before you left,an' you could kind o' make your deal then, an' your payment wouldhold the bargain bound until I could sell mine, y' see, Harris?"Riles was beginning to address himself mainly to the older man.

  "Don't take me up wrong," said Allan. "I'm in on this along with Dad,if he's in; an' if he's out, I'm out. But I was just kind o' curiousabout it."

  "It's all right, it's all right," assured Riles, with greatmagnanimity. Inwardly he was cursing Gardiner for having left thistask to him. He was suspicious of a trap in the simplest question,and feared that any minute he might find himself floundering in amesh of contradictions.

  "Where is this coal mine, and who's got it?" said Harris.

  "I ain't saw it myself," admitted Riles. "They're awful p'tic'larabout lettin' people see it," he continued, with a sudden flash ofinspiration. "It's so valu'ble, y' know."

  "'Fraid somebody'll bring it home in their pocket, I suppose," saidAllan.

  Riles pretended to laugh heartily.

  "But where is it?" insisted Harris.
"Is there a railroad near, or howdo you get at it?"

  "It's up in the mountains, an' that's all I can tell you; but it'sall right, an' there's a pile o' money in it. I guess I better bringGard'ner down in the morning, an' he'll explain all about it. Y' see,he knows the fellow 'at owns it, an' I don't, an' he'll be able totell you. That is, if you're goin' in on it. Gard'ner won't say muchunless he knows you're goin' in on it."

  "Well, he'll have to say a good deal before he knows," said Harris."I ain't buyin' a pig in a poke. He's got t' show me, and then ifit's all right, why, it's all right."

  "Oh, it's all right," said Riles, although inwardly he felt littleenthusiasm over the attitude of either father or son. He was annoyedthat Allan should be present. On the whole, it would be better toleave the rest of the explaining to Gardiner.

  "What d'ye think of it, Dad?" said Allan, when Riles was gone.

  "Maybe all right," said Harris. "Wouldn't be surprised but it is. Atthe same time, I ain't goin' to put a cent in it till I'm dead sure.And anyway, there's no use lettin' Riles think we're keen on it."

  "That's what I think. You think Gardiner's all square in it?"

  "I don't know. Likely he's getting a fat commission from somewhere,but that's fair enough, if he makes the deal. But he won't see any o'our money till I have the opinion of the best lawyer in town. That'sall we can say till we see it."

  "That seems safe," Allan agreed. "Just the same, I think there's lotsmore chances to use our money to advantage here than down inManitoba, don't you?"

  "Yes, I think there is. You see, this is a new country, andeverything on the jump. Think how much we could 'a' made in Manitobain the early days if we had the money and knew where t' put it. Well,out here they've got the benefit of our experience, an' they'll do asmuch here in five years as we did in twenty-five. We had t' make themoney t' develop our country--had t' make it right at home on ourfarms, an' that's slow. But here the money's rollin' in fromoutside."

  "What d'ye say if we sell the old farm anyway, and then if this minebusiness don't look good, we'll plunk it into farm land?"

  "Might do worse," his father agreed. "We'll have a look round for aday or two, anyway."

  The next morning they began a round of the real estate offices. Greatactivity prevailed everywhere, and dealers seemed to have hardly timeto give them attention. In one little box of a place they mentionedthat they might be on the market for say a couple of thousand acres.

  "Think I can fix you up all right," said the proprietor; "and there'sone sure thing, you can't put your money anywhere where it's safer or'll grow faster. Why--"

  At that moment a man in a pepper-and-salt suit went by the door.

  "'Scuse me a minute," said the dealer, rushing to the door andsending a shrill whistle down the street. The man in thepepper-and-salt turned, and the dealer beckoned him into the littleoffice.

  "You know that five-thousand-acre block you bought last week," hesaid in a low voice, but loud enough to be heard by the Harrises."Bought it at six dollars, didn't you? Well, I can give you sevento-day, for a quick sale."

  "Couldn't think of it, my dear fellow," protested the lucky buyer. "Isimply couldn't think of it."

  "Couldn't think of making five thousand dollars in a week? It don'tlook too bad to a working man like me."

  "But it's nowhere near the value of the land. Why, they're sellingstuff in Illinois today that ain't to be compared with it at ahundred and fifty dollars an acre. It's only a question of time untilthis is as much. You've got better land here, and better climate, andyou're a thousand miles nearer the Pacific Ocean, that's going tocarry the commerce of the future. Seven dollars? It's an insult toCanada to mention such a price."

  "Well, say," continued the real estate man, in a still moreconfidential tone, "I was allowing myself a little margin on thedeal, even at seven dollars. But I had a man in here a few minutesago that'll buy that block at eight-fifty. I'll pay you eight dollarsnet to put it through."

  "Sorry, but he'll have to get down deeper than that if he wants it.Tell him I might consider ten dollars, but mind, I ain't making anypromise." And the man in the pepper-and-salt suit continued hiscourse down the street, just the same as if he were not making fivethousand dollars a week.

  "Big capitalist from New York, that fellow," explained the dealer."Simply coining money up here, and always salting it into more land."

  The incident left a deep impression on the Harrises. They did notknow, of course, that the man in the pepper-and-salt suit always wentby the door when likely-looking strangers were in, and that he alwaysrefused a profit of ten thousand dollars as a matter of littleconsequence--except for its influence on the unsuspecting party ofthe third part.