The Homesteaders: A Novel of the Canadian West

  CHAPTER XV

  THE LURE OF EASY MONEY

  In the afternoon Gardiner and Riles drove into town and met theHarrises in the waiting-room of the hotel. Gardiner's greeting wasfriendly, but not over-familiar, as became a man who had recentlysuffered some reflection on his character. He shook Harris and Allanby the hand, inquired after the cattle and the crops, but discreetlyavoided family matters, having learned from Riles that all had notbeen going smoothly in their domestic affairs. Gardiner knew a littleroom at the back of the bar, to which he escorted his guests. Havingordered a bottle and glasses on the table, he turned the key in thedoor.

  "You can't be too careful," he explained. "You know, the walls haveears, and if it gets out that this coal mine can be picked up at theprice we have on it, it will be taken before night. I understand yourmoney is not here yet, Mr. Harris?"

  "No. Not started, I guess. The fact is, I haven't sold the farm."

  "Well, I don't want to hurry you, but we've got to act quickly, ornot at all. Of course, we don't figure on taking any chances. Ouridea is to turn the property over at once, at a good profit. That'sthe way you feel about it too, isn't it?"

  "I'm not a coal miner."

  "Exactly. Neither are the men who own most of the mines of thiscountry. There comes a time, Mr. Harris, when we realize that wedon't have to get down with pick and shovel to make ourselves somemoney--in fact, the man with pick and shovel hasn't time to make anyreal money. I am glad you feel like I do about it, for I have alreadytaken the liberty of putting the proposition up to a New Yorksyndicate."

  "You mean if we don't come through, they will?"

  "No, I mean that we'll come through--and they'll come after us. Myidea is not to take any chances, but to sell the property, or as goodas sell it, before we buy it. So I sent a Government report on it tothis syndicate, as I heard they were looking out for coal lands inthe West, and I just took the liberty of offering it to them for acool quarter of a million, and gave them until to-night to accept orrefuse, by wire. I'm a little anxious for an answer, although if theydon't take it others will. You see, the old fellow that owns itsimply hasn't any idea what it's worth. He has lived in the hillsuntil he looks like one of 'em, and a satchelful of money in realbills will simply dazzle him. A cheque wouldn't serve the purpose;he'd be suspicious of it, and he'd come down to investigate, andsomeone would be sure to crimp our deal."

  "But what is your plan for the deal, Mr. Gardiner?" asked Harris. "Wecan't go into the mountains with a load of bills and buy a mine likea man might buy a steer. There'll have to be papers, titles, and suchthings, I suppose, to make it right with us and with the Government."

  "Of course," Gardiner agreed. "We will take the money with us, but wewon't give it to him until we get the papers. We'll just let him seeit--nibble it a little, if you like--and then we'll lead him intotown with it, like you lead a horse with oats. The sight of so muchmoney will keep him coming our way when nothing else would. And we'llslip him a hundred or two, and get a little receipt for it, just toprevent him changing his mind if he should be so disposed."

  "And suppose I don't like the look of the mine when I see it?"

  "Then you bring your money back down with you and put it into farmlands, or anything else that takes your fancy. After you look itover, if you don't want to go in on it, Mr. Harris, perhaps Riles andI can raise enough ourselves to swing the deal, but you see wethought of you from the first, and we will stay with our originalplan until you have a chance to decide one way or another."

  "Well, that sounds fair," said Allan, and his father nodded. "But wehaven't sold the farm, and until we do I guess there isn't much moneyin sight."

  "Bradshaw'll sell the farm quick enough if I send him word," hisfather assured him. "He may not get it all in money, but he'll get agood part of it, and he has ways o' raisin' the balance so long's thesecurity is good. I've half a mind t' wire him t' close 'er out."

  At this moment there came a knock on the door, and a boy presented atelegram for Gardiner. He opened it, read it, and emitted a whooplike a wild Indian. "They're coming through," he shouted, "comingthrough! How does half of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars lookto you, Mr. Harris?"

  Harris reached out eagerly for the telegram, while Allan, his armthrown over his father's shoulder, read it in boyish excitement:

  "If investigation confirms Government reports we will pay two hundredfifty thousand. Our representative leaves at once for personalinterview."

  The name at the end of the telegram was unknown to either Harris orhis son, but Gardiner assured them it was one to conjure with in thefinancial world. Riles' excitement was scarcely less than Allan's.Gardiner choked a flood of questions on his lips with a quickimperative glance. Even Riles did not know that the telegram had beenwritten a few doors down the street by a stoutish man in apepper-and-salt suit.

  "I'll take a chance," said Harris, at last. "I'll take a chance."

  "Chance nothing!" interjected Gardiner, with momentary abruptness."It was a chance a minute ago; it's a certainty now. It's the cinchof a lifetime."

  "Where's some paper?" asked Allan. "Let's get a telegram away rightoff."

  Gardiner produced a notebook and, at Harris's dictation, drafted atelegram to Bradshaw, directing him to dispose of the farm at oncealong the lines of the instructions already given him. He was to cashthe agreement and wire the proceeds to Harris.

  Then followed long anxious days. Fortune seemed to hang on Bradshaw'ssuccess in making an immediate sale of the farm. It was a largeorder, and yet Harris felt confident a buyer would be found. Theprice asked was not unreasonable, especially when it was rememberedthat the crop would go to the purchaser, and was now almost ready forthe binder. Bradshaw was in constant touch with well-to-do farmersfrom the South who were on the look-out for land, and his own bankingfacilities would enable him to forward the cash as soon as a sale wasassured, without waiting for actual payment by the purchaser. SoHarris was confident in the midst of his anxiety.

  A gentleman's agreement had been made with Gardiner and Riles thatnot a word was to be said concerning their investment until it was acompleted fact. Gardiner dropped in occasionally to learn if any wordhad come from Plainville, but it was not until the afternoon of thefourth day that the fateful yellow envelope was handed in at thehotel. As it happened, Gardiner and Riles were present at the moment.They slipped into the back room and waited in a fever of expectationfor Harris to announce the contents.

  Harris and Allan read the message twice before speaking; then Allanrepeated it aloud:

  "Twenty thousand dollars proceeds sale goes forward by wire yourbank. Correspondence follows. Will explain failure to get priceasked.

  "BRADSHAW."

  Harris was torn between emotions, and his face worked with unwontednervousness as he struggled with them. That Bradshaw should have soldthe farm for half the price he had stipulated seemed incredible. Itwas robbery; it was a breach of trust of the most despicable nature.On the other hand, if the amount available would enable them to buythe mine, the huge profit assured from that investment would muchmore than offset the loss on the farm. Gardiner and Riles, too, werevisibly downcast when they heard the amount, but Gardiner promptlygrappled with the situation.

  "It's less than we figured on," he said, "but perhaps we can getthrough still. The thing to do is to get out to the mine at once withthis money. It will be sufficient to prove the genuineness of ourintentions, and induce him into town. Then Riles can put up some andI can put up some, and that, with the twenty thousand, should holdthe deal until Riles can realize on his farm. Within a very shorttime we can turn the whole thing over to the New Yorkers, and take inthe profits."

  "Say, Gardiner," said Allan, speaking as one who had been struck by anew and important thought. "Where do you come in on this deal? Isyour old gink up in the hills coming through for half?"

  "Not a cent," said Gardiner. "As for where I come in, well, dealingwith old friends like Riles and the Harrises, I considered that asec
ondary matter. I fancy that when they feel the profits in theirpockets they will be disposed to be not only fair, but generous, and,of course, if I put up part of the money I will expect my share ofprofit. But I'm not asking for any assurance; I'm just going to leavethat to you."

  "Well, that's decent, anyway," Harris agreed. "I haven't as muchmoney as I expected, but if we can pull it through it may be allright yet. Of course, you remember that I haven't promised to put upa dollar unless I like the looks of the mine when I see it?" Harrisstill had qualms of hesitation about entering into a transaction somuch out of his beaten path, and he took occasion from time to timeto make sure that an avenue of retreat was still open.

  "That's the understanding, exactly," Gardiner assured him. "You'rethe man with the money, and if you don't like it, don't pay."

  Harris at once visited the bank, and returned shortly with theinformation that the amount, less a somewhat startling percentage fortransmission and exchange, was already deposited to his credit.

  "Then let us lose no more time," said Gardiner, with enthusiasm. "Youwill need a team and rig, and you better pack a couple of blanketsand some grub. Make the stableman throw in a couple of saddles; youmay have to ride the last part of the trip. Riles and I will make itthe whole way on horseback." Gardiner then remembered that it wouldbe necessary for him to go back to the ranch and change horses, buthe described in detail the road they should take, and assured themthey could not miss it. It was the main road up the river valley--up,and up--and if they drove hard they would reach that night a spotwhere an old, deserted cabin stood back in a clump of poplars. Itwould be a good place to spend the night, and Riles and Gardinerwould meet them there, if, indeed, they did not overtake them on theroad. Neither Harris nor Allan had any fear of a strange trail; theyhad been bred to a sense of direction and location all their lives,and were confident they would find no difficulty in reaching therendezvous.

  "Better make your own arrangements about the horses," Gardinerwhispered as they left the room. "We can't be too careful to keep ourbusiness secret."

  As they stood for a moment in the waiting-room it occurred to Allanthat some shooting might be found in the mountains. "You haven't gota gun you could lend me, I suppose?" he said to Gardiner.

  "What do you want a gun for?" Gardiner demanded brusquely.

  "Might get a shot at a partridge, or something. No harm in having onealong, is there?"

  "Oh, no, but I don't expect you'll see anything to justify thetrouble. Anyway, I haven't got one."

  "There's a shot-gun here," said the hotel clerk, who had overheardthe last remarks, "if that would suit you. A Cholly who was taking ashort course in poker put it up a few days ago as a stand-off on hiseat score. There's ten bones against it; if it's worth that to you,take it."

  He handed the gun over the counter, and Allan examined it withinterest. He recognized an English weapon of a value out of allproportion to the price asked.

  "I'll take it," he said, and paid down the money. There was amomentary darkening of Gardiner's face which nobody noticed.

  The little party then moved out to the street. Gardiner had regainedhis smooth manner, and gave some final directions about the road.

  "Oh, we'll find it all right," said Allan, in high spirits, "andwe'll beat you to the shanty unless you've some faster nags at homethan any I see you driving. So long."

  "So long," called Gardiner. "So long, and good luck."

  "So long, an' good luck," repeated Riles. He was trying to play thegame, but, as Gardiner often reminded him, he had no imagination. Itwould have been quite impossible for Riles, on his own initiative, tohave thought of wishing the Harrises "good luck" on the journey theywere about to commence...They were interesting types ofvillains--one, gentlemanly, suave, deep, and resourceful; the other,coarse, shallow, slow-witted, and brutal. The offence of one againstsociety was wholly intellectual; of the other, almost whollyphysical. Gardiner fully appreciated the difference, and in his hearthe felt a contempt and loathing toward Riles which he concealed onlyas a matter of policy. And he had worked out in his mind a littleplan by which Riles, when his usefulness was ended, should beshuffled off without any share in the booty. At present he toleratedhim because of necessity. There was work before them for which Rileswas peculiarly qualified.

  The Harrises went at once to a livery stable, where they arranged fora team and outfit. They then bought some cartridges for the gun, anda small handbag in which to carry the money.

  When Harris presented himself at the bank wicket and asked for thefull amount to his credit in cash, the sallow-faced teller turned atrifle paler still and slipped into the manager's office. A momentlater the manager himself appeared before them.

  "That's a pretty heavy order on a country bank, Mr. Harris. Of coursewe could give it to you in exchange, but to pay twenty thousanddollars or thereabouts in bills will drain us to almost our lastdollar. Can't you use a marked cheque, or a draft on a Calgary bank?"

  "Well, no," Harris said; "I'm afraid we can't."

  "A marked cheque is as good as bills," the banker argued, "and mucheasier to carry, not to speak of being safer," he added, as anafterthought. "Travelling with that amount of money on you is a sortof defiance of natural law, especially with the country full ofstrangers, as it is at present." The banker looked from the powerfulframe of the farmer to the equally powerful frame of the farmer'sson, and his eye fell on the gun which the latter carried under hisarm. "But, I guess," he continued with a laugh, "there isn't muchdanger on that score."

  "Nothin' t' speak of," said Harris. "And while I don't want t' breakyour bank, I do want t' get that money, and t' get it in bills, orpart of it in gold an' silver would do. The fact is, I don't mindtellin' you I've a deal on, an' I've undertaken t' put up this moneyin cash--to-night."

  The banker ruminated for a few minutes. Experience had told him thatwith a certain class of men money in bills was more valuable thanmoney in a cheque or draft. The very bulk of the currency seemed toimpress them. He had seen an old-timer refuse a twelve-hundred-dollarmarked cheque for his property, and yet surrender greedily at thesight of a thousand one-dollar bills piled on a table before him.This was a trait of human nature found in many persons unaccustomedto the handling of considerable sums of money, and sharp tradersconsidered it good business to take advantage of it. The bankerthought he understood why Harris wanted all the money in bills,although the sum was larger than he had ever seen handled in that waybefore.

  A young man emerged from somewhere and locked the front door of thebank.

  "It's closing time now," said the teller, addressing the manager. "Wehave enough cash on hand to pay this gentleman, and we can wire formore bills, which will reach us in time for to-morrow's business."

  "Pay it, then," said the manager. "Mr. Harris has a right to hismoney in that form if he wants it. But," he added, turning to Harris,"I'd advise you to keep both eyes on it until your transaction iscompleted."

  The counting of the money was a bigger task than either Harris orAllan had thought, but at last it was completed, and they were readyfor the road. The banker looked after their buggy as it faded out ofsight up the river road.

  "Hang me if I like that!" he said to himself.

  The long drive up the valley in the warm August afternoon was anexperience for the soul of painter or poet. Even John and AllanHarris, schooled as they were in the religion of material things,felt something within them responding to the air, and the sunlight,and the dark green banks of trees, and the sound of rushing water,and the purple-blue mountains heaving and receding before them. Thesweat trickled in narrow tongues down the backs of their horses,reminding them that the ascent was much steeper than it appeared. Asthey topped each new ridge they looked expectantly forward to agreater revelation of the mountains, but this was constantly deniedby ever-recurring successions of ridges still ahead. The long, smoothswell of the plain gradually gave way to the more abrupt formationsof the foothills, and here and there in their rounded domes protrudedgrea
t warts of green-grey rock where the winds of ages had whippedthe sand down into the valleys. Little clusters of green poplars,like vast goatees, nestled on the northern chin of the hills acrossthe valley, where the Chinook had failed to spread its balmywinter-blight among them; here and there were glimpses of thousandsof cattle feeding on the brown ranges. The sun, like a bubble ofmolten gold blown from the bowl of heaven, hung very close in asteel-bright, cloudless sky. Lower it fell, and lower, until a fangof rock two miles high pierced its under-edge, and sent a flood offire pouring in a thin, bright border along the crest of the Rockies.The travellers stopped their horses on a ridge to watch themarvellous transformation; light before them, light behind them, attheir feet the shadows creeping up the mountain sides, and the valleybeneath transformed as by some fairy wand into a sea of amber.

  Allan breathed deeply of the high, clear air, and in his eye wassomething which revealed that the light without had some way struckto new life the slumbering light within. He had no words ofexpression--no means of conveying his emotion; but he thought of hismother and Beulah--Beulah, who had so often protested against thesubstitution of existence for life. He had never had much patiencewith her queer notions, but now, in this moment when he knew that insome strange way he had invaded the borderland of the Infinite,Beulah stood up before his eyes--Beulah, his sister, resolute,defiant, reaching out, demanding life, life! He turned to his father,but was silenced by the sight of a line of moisture crawling slowlydown the weather-beaten cheek. John Harris was driving again thepioneer trail from Emerson; at his side was Mary, young, beautiful,and trusting, and before them lay life...And they had not found thatlife...He made a dry sound in his throat, and the horses moved on.

  Darkness settled about them. One or two stars came out. The poplarstook on the colour of the spruce; the river fretted more noisily inits rocky channel. A thin ribbon of cloud lay across the mountains,and a breeze of wonderful mellowness came down through the passes.

  At length, just as they were thinking of pitching camp for the night,Allan espied a deserted cabin in a cluster of trees by the side ofthe road. They turned into the wood and unhitched the horses.

  The building was some old prospector's shack, long unoccupied savefor occasional hunter or rancher, and the multitude of gophers thathad burrowed under its rotting sills. The glass was gone from asingle window looking out upon the road; the door had fallen from itshinges; the floor had been broken down in spots by the hoofs ofwandering cattle. A match revealed a lantern hanging on the wall, anda few cooking utensils, safe from all marauders under the unwrittenlaw of the new land.

  The two men first made their horses comfortable, and then cooked somesupper on a little fire at the door of the shack. Harris was tired,so they cleared a space in the corner furthest from the door, andspread their blankets there. Harris lay down to rest, the preciousbag of money by his side.

  "You might as well drop off for a nap," Allan suggested. "They musthave been delayed, and may not make it to-night at all. We're herefor the night, and you may as well rest if you can. I won't turn inmyself until you waken."

  "I believe I'll do as you say," his father agreed. "Keep a keen earan' don't leave the building without wakin' me."

  Allan looked out at different times for Gardiner and Riles, but thereseemed no sound in all the world save the rushing of water. A colddraught crept along the floor...He fancied his father had fallen intoa nap...The night chill deepened, and at length Allan hung a blanketas best he could across the open door. His gun gave him a sense ofcompanionship, and he took it in his hands and sat down beside hisfather...It was very lean and graceful in his fingers.

  While the banker worked in his garden in the long August evening thethought of the two men with a bag full of money kept recurring andrecurring in his mind, and smothering the natural pride he felt inhis abounding cabbages. True, it was no business of his, but still hecould not feel entirely at ease. As he bent over his hoe he heardhoofs clatter in the street, and, looking up, saw the erect form ofSergeant Grey on his well-groomed Government horse. At a signal fromthe banker the policeman drew up beside the fence.

  They talked in low voices for ten minutes. "It may be a wild-goosechase," said the sergeant at last, "but it's worth a try." Half anhour later his horse was swinging in his long, steady stride up theroad by the winding river.