CHAPTER III
PRAIRIE LAND
The afternoon that has just been described was typical of the daysthat were to follow as the immigrant party laboured its slowpilgrimage into the Farther West. True, they entered on the very nextday a district having some pretence of settlement, where it wassometimes possible to secure shelter for the women and children underhospitable Mennonite roofs. The peculiar housekeeping principles ofthis class of settlers, however, which involved the lodging of cattleand horses in the same building with the human members of the family,discouraged too great intimacy with them, and for the most part thenew-comers preferred the shelter of their own tent. They soon emergedfrom the Red River Valley, left the vast, level, treeless plainbehind them, and plunged into the rolling and lightly wooded Pembinaregion. Here clumps of small willows and, where repeated fires hadnot destroyed them, light bluffs of slender poplars afforded ameasure of protection, and from the resources of the few scatteredsettlers already in the country they were able to replenish theirsupplies of fodder for the stock, and even to add to their ownlarder. Fortunately the wind continued to blow from the north, and,although the sun shone with astonishing fierceness in the middle ofthe day, the snow thawed but little and the trail remained passable.Other parties of settlers, wending their way westward to the regionwhere homesteads were still available, or moving in to lands locatedthe previous year, were overtaken; and again the party werethemselves overtaken by more rapid-moving immigrants from behind, sothat in the course of four or five days their cavalcade stretched farahead and far to the rear. Acquaintanceships were made quickly--noone stood on ceremony; and as the journey wore on the Harrises beganto feel that they already possessed many friends in the country, andthat life on the prairie would not be altogether lonely.
After numerous consultations with McCrae, Harris had arranged thathis immediate destination should be in a district where the scrubcountry melted into open prairie on the western side of the Pembina.The Arthurses, who were also of the party, had homesteaded there, andFred Arthurs had built a little house on the land the year before.Arthurs was now bringing his young wife to share with him theprivations and the privileges of their new home. A friendship hadalready sprung up between Mrs. Arthurs and Mrs. Harris, and nothingseemed more appropriate than that the two women should occupy thehouse together while Harris sought out new homestead land and Arthursproceeded with the development of his farm. It was McCrae, whoseinterest in every member of the expedition was that of a father, thatdropped the germ of this suggestion into Arthurs' receptive ear, andit was with paternal satisfaction he found the young couples speedilywork out for themselves the arrangements which he had planned forthem all along.
After the crossing of the Pembina the party began to scatter--some tohomesteads already located; others to friends who would billet themuntil their arrangements were completed. As team after team swung outfrom the main road a certain sense of loss was experienced by thosewho were left, but it was cheery words and good wishes and mutualinvitations that marked each separation. At length came the trail,almost lost in the disappearing snow, that led to Arthurs' homestead.A quick handshake with McCrae, Ned Beacon, and the doctor, and a fewothers who had grown upon them in the journey, and the two youngcouples turned out to break their way over the little-used route thatnow lay before them.
Darkness was settling down--darkness of the seventh night since theirdeparture from Emerson--when, like a mole on the face of the plain, alittle grey lump grew on the horizon. Arthurs rose in his sleigh andwaved his fur cap in the air; Harris sent back an answering cheer;the women plied their husbands with questions; even the horses tookon new energy, and plunged desperately through the frozen snow whichone moment supported their weight and the next splintered in brokenice-cakes beneath them. Slowly the mole grew until in the gatheringshadows it took on indistinctly the shape of a building, and just asthe rising moon crested the ridge of the Pembina hills the travellersswung up at the door. Arthurs had carried the key of the padlock inhis hand for the last mile; everybody was out of the sleighs in amoment, and the next they were stamping their cramped feet on thecold wooden floor of the little shack. Arthurs walked unerringly to anail on the wall and took down a lantern; its dull flame drove themist slowly down the glass, and presently the light was beating backfrom the glistening frost which sparkled on every log of the littleroom.
"Well, here we are in Hungry Hall," said Arthurs. "Everything just asI left it." Then, turning to his wife, "Come, Lil," he said. "Jack,perhaps you have an engagement of your own." He took his wife in apassionate embrace and planted a fervent kiss upon her lips, whileHarris followed his example. Then they sat down on the boxes thatserved for chairs, amid a happiness too deep for words...So theminutes passed until Mrs. Arthurs sprang to her feet. "Why, Mary,"she exclaimed, "I do believe you're crying," while the moistureglistened on her own cheek. "Now, you men, clear out! I suppose youthink the horses will stable themselves? Yes, I see you have the boxfull of wood, Fred. That's not so bad for a start. Leave somematches, and say, you might just get our boxes in here. Rememberwe've lived in these clothes for the best part of two weeks."
The young men sprang to their task, and as soon as they were out ofthe house the girls threw their arms about each other and wept likewomen together. It was only for a moment; a quick dash of the handacross the eyes, and both were busy removing coats and wraps.
The door opened, and their "boxes," as well as other equipment fromthe sleighs, were carried in, and the men disappeared to the littlestable at the back of the house. After several attempts the girlssucceeded in starting a fire in the rusted stove, and soon itsgrateful heat was radiating to every corner of the room. As theybusied themselves unpacking dishes and provisions they hadopportunity to take observations of the new place that for one was tobe home and for the other a very welcome haven in a strange land.
The house was built of poplar logs, hewed and dovetailed at thecorners with the skill of the Ontario woodsman. It was about twelveby sixteen feet in size, with collar-beams eight feet from the floor.The roof was of two thicknesses of elm boards, with tar-paperbetween. The floor was of poplar boards. The door was in the eastside, near the south-east corner; the stove stood about the centre ofthe east wall. The only window was in the south; six panes ofeight-by-ten glass sufficed for light. Through this window anotherlantern shone back from the darkness, and the flickering light fromthe stove danced in duplicate. A rough board table sat under thewindow; a box nailed in the south-west corner evidently served ascupboard. No tools or movables of any value had been left in theplace, Arthurs having stored such effects with a neighbour, somedozen miles away, lest they be stolen from the cabin by someunscrupulous traveller during his absence.
"I like the plan of it very much," said Mrs. Arthurs, after a generalsurvey of the room. "Don't you think Fred has shown good judgment inthe design? This"--indicating the door--"will be my reception-room.And this, a little further in, is the parlour. The kitchen and pantryare right at hand--so convenient for the maid in serving, you know.And then our rooms. Fred and I will have the long room in thenorth-west wing, while you, of course, will occupy the guest-chamberin the northeast. Do not be alarmed, my dear; if the silence of theprairies weighs too heavily upon you we shall be within call. Thebath may be reached from either room with equal convenience."
Both laughed, but Mary, more serious and sober-minded, was alreadyslicing ham and greasing a frying-pan. "We need water, Lil--get somesnow while I find the tea. The bread is hard, but there'll be coalspresently, and we shall have toast. Lucky there were baked potatoesleft over from last night's camp; they'll fry up fine along withthis--" But already Lil was outside gathering snow.
She returned in breathless excitement. "Oh, Mary, I've just had agreat thought. All my wedding china--presents, you know--is in thatbox, and I have my wedding clothes, too. Have you yours?"
"Of course. But why--"
"Why, dear, don't you see? The men are busy shovelling a path intothe stable. It'll b
e an hour yet before they are in. Let's put on ourwedding dresses, and set the table with our best dishes and bestlinen, just for a kind of post-nuptial. Let's!"
"But ham and fried potatoes!"
"And toast. Didn't you promise toast? And tea. And I'll wager there'ssome jam among provisions. Oh, let's hurry."
An hour later, when the hungry men returned after making their horsesand cattle comfortable, they stopped in amazement at the sight thatconfronted them. Snowy linen, delicate china, and sparkling glassreturned the soft light from one of those great lamps such as arebought only for presentation; and beside the table, like fairiesspirited from a strange land, stood two beautiful women, robed in thedelicate draperies of their bridal hour. Exclamations of surprisewere drowned in a flood of tender associations, and never in palaceor banquet-hall did sweeter content and happiness reign than amongthese four young pioneers as they sat down to their first home-servedmeal in the new land.
The days that followed were days of intense activity for both men andwomen. There was much to do, inside and out. In the interior of thelittle house an extraordinary change was wrought; simple draperiesand pictures relieved the bareness of the walls; shelves were builtfor the accommodation of many trinkets dear to the feminine heart; arag carpet covered the centre of the floor; plain but appetisingdishes peeked enticingly from behind the paper curtain that nowclothed the bare ribs of the cupboard; and a sense of homelinesspervaded the atmosphere. The two men, in their own realm, had foundmuch to occupy them, although for some days the range of theiractivities was limited owing to the necessity of giving the horses amuch-needed rest before putting them back into the harness.
A week had passed, and no sign of life, other than that of the littleparty itself, had been seen about the Arthurses' homestead, when oneday Harris's eyes already becoming keen to the prairie distances,espied a dark point on the horizon. It grew slowly from a point to aspot, from a spot to an object, and at length was defined as a man onhorseback. Presently Aleck McCrae drew up at the door.
"Hello, farmers," he cried, "how goes the battle? An' the good wives?Building a little Eden in this wilderness, I'll warrant. Tell them toput another name in the pot, an' a hungry name at that. I haven'tseen a white woman's meal I don't know when."
The friends gathered about the old-timer, plying him with questions,which he answered or discussed until the meal was over, holding hisown business quietly in the background. But, with supper ended, hispipe in his teeth and his feet resting comfortably in the oven, hebroached his subject.
"Ready for the road in the morning, Jack? Don't want to break up yourlittle honeymoon, y' know, but the month is wearing on. Nothing buthorseback for it now, an' they do say the settlers are crowding upsomething wonderful. The best land's going fast. Most of them willhold up now, with the roads breaking, but by slipping out on ourhorses we can locate an' file before the real spring rush opens. Youshould get some kind of shelter up before the frost is out of theground, so's to lose no time from ploughing once the spring opens."
Harris needed no urging, and in the early morning the two men, withblankets and provisions, started out on horseback for the stillfarther West. The snow was now going rapidly; water stood in athousand pools and ponds on the face of the prairie, or ran withswift noiselessness in the creeks and ravines, although the real"break-up" of the streams would not occur until early in April. Byavoiding the sleigh-trails and riding over the open prairie fairlysound footing was found for the horses and a good opportunity givento observe the land. Harris soon found that more judgment wasrequired in the selection of a prairie farm than he had supposed, andhe congratulated himself upon having fallen in with so experienced aplainsman as McCrae. On the first day they rode over mile after mileof beautiful country, following the survey stakes as closely aspossible, and noting their location from time to time by thelettering on the posts.
"This is good enough for me," said Harris at length, as their horsescrested a little elevation from which the prairie stretched away inall directions, smooth as a table. "Isn't it magnificent! And allfree for the taking!"
"It's pretty to look at," said McCrae, "but I guess you didn't comeWest for scenery, did you?"
"Well, what's the matter with it? Look at that grass. If the soilwasn't all right it wouldn't grow native crops like that, would it?"
"The soil's all right," answered McCrae. "Nothing better anywhere,an' you can plough a hundred and sixty acres to everyquarter-section. But this is in the frost belt. They get it everyAugust--sometimes July. Shouldn't wonder but it'll be all right intime, when the country gets settled up, but most homesteaders can'tafford to wait. We've got to get further West yet, into the higherland of the Turtle Mountain slopes. I know there's good stuff therethat hasn't been taken."
And so they pressed on, until, in the bright sunshine, the blue lineof the Turtle Mountain lay like a lake on the western horizon. HereMcCrae began paying more minute attention to the soil, examining thediggings around badger holes, watching out for clumps of "wolfwillow," with always a keen eye for stones and low-lying alkalipatches and the general topography of the quarter.
"This is more rolling country, with more land broken up by sleughsan' creeks, but it's good stuff," he said. "It's early to makepredictions, but I'll risk one guess. There are two classes of peoplecoming into this country--men who are looking for wheat land, nothingbut wheat land, an' men who want some wheat land an' some stock land.I predict that in twenty-five years the wheat farmers will be workingfor the mortgage companies, an' the stock farmers will be building upbank accounts. Now stock must have water, an' if you can get naturalshelter, so much the better. A creek may break your land a little,but it's worth more than it costs."
Many times in their explorations they passed over sections thatHarris would have accepted, but McCrae objected, finding always someflaw not apparent to the untrained eye. Once, where a little riverhad worn its way across the plain, they came on a sod shack, where asettler was already located. "Nice spot," said McCrae, "but toosandy. His farm'll blow away when he breaks the sod. There's an easycrossing there' though, an' perhaps he thinks the railway will hithim when it comes. That's all a gamble. It may go north of the lake;if it does we only bet on the wrong horse. We've got to take ourchance on that."
But at length they rode over a quarter where McCrae turned his horseand rode back again. Forward and back, forward and back, they rodethe whole hundred and sixty acres, until not a rood of it had escapedtheir scrutiny. On the south-east corner a stream, in a ravine ofsome depth, cut off a triangle of a few acres' extent. Otherwise itwas prairie sod, almost level, with yellow clay lying at the badgerholes. Down in the ravine, where they had been sheltered from fire,were red willows, choke-cherry bushes, and a few little poplars andbirches; a winding pond marked the course of the stream, which wasrunning in considerable volume. Even as they stood on the bank agreat cracking was heard, and huge blocks of ice rose to the surfaceof the pond. Some of these as they rose turned partly on their edge,showing two smooth sides.
"Good!" exclaimed McCrae. "There's some depth of water there. Thatpond hasn't frozen solid, or the ice wouldn't come up like that. Thatmeans water all winter for stock, independent of your well--a mightyimportant consideration, which a lot of these land-grabbers don'tseem to reckon on. Now there's a good quarter, Jack. I don't say it'sthe best there is; they'll be opening up new land that'd make yourteeth water twenty-five years from now. But we can't explore thewhole North-West, an' you're far enough from the railroad here. Thiscoulee will give shelter for your stock in raw weather, an' there's abench looks at though it was put there for your little house. There'slight timber to the north, fit for fuel an' building, within fifteenmiles, an' there'll be neighbours here before the summer's over, orI'm no prophet. What do you say?"
"The quarter suits me," said Harris. "And the adjoining quarter isgood stuff too. I can take pre-emption right on that. But there'sjust one thing I'm in doubt about."
"What's that?"
"How I'm goin
g to square it with you for the service you have given.My cash is getting low, and--"
"Don't worry about that. I generally size up my customer an' bill himaccordingly. If he has lots of money, an' seems likely to part withit foolishly, I put as much of it as I can in safe keeping. But thereisn't any money fee as far as you're concerned. Fact is, I kindafigure on trading this bill out with you."
"Trading it out? How?"
"Well, I expect to be roving this country, east an' west, for someyears to come, an' I've a little policy of establishing depots herean' there--places where I can drop in for a square meal an' a sleepan' a bit of Western hospitality. Places, too, if you like, wherethere are men to say a good word for Aleck McCrae. How's that suityou?"
Harris took his friend's hand in a warm grip. He rightly guessed thatMcCrae was not bartering his services for hospitality, but was makingit easy for Harris to accept them by appearing to bargain for aservice in return. So they shook hands together on the side of thebank overlooking the little coulee, and as they looked in eachother's eyes Harris realized for the first time that McCrae was stilla young man. A sense of comradeship came over him--a feeling thatthis man was more of a brother than a father. With admiring eyes helooked on McCrae's fine face, his broad shoulders, his wonderfulphysique, and the question he asked sprang from his lips before hecould arrest it.
"Why don't you get married, Mac?"
"Who, me?" said McCrae, laughing; but Harris detected a tone in hisvoice that was not all happiness, and the thought came to him thatMcCrae's craving for hospitality might root deeper than he supposed.
"It's a long ride to the land office," continued McCrae, "an' youcan't file a minute too soon. We'd better find a corner post an? makesure of the number of this section, an' put as much road behind us aswe can tonight."