CHAPTER XIII
MAINLY ABOUT CHETWOOD
When Angus came to investigate the damage wrought by the hail, he foundit very complete. There would be no grain to thresh. It turned out thathis had been the only ranch to suffer, the swath of the storm havingmissed his neighbors. It seemed the climax of the bad luck which hadattended that twenty-four hours.
Jean, when she saw that her brother was absolutely determined that sheshould have another year of study, gave in, knowing nothing of the moneyhe had borrowed. In the fortnight that elapsed before her departure, shewas very busy, not only with her own preparations, but with preserving,pickling and mending for the ranch.
During this time Chetwood was an intermittent visitor. On these visitsmost of his time was spent in Jean's vicinity. Thus, on the eve of herdeparture, when she was very busy with a final batch of preserves, heappeared in the door. In his eyes, Jean, uniformed in a voluminous blueapron, her face flushed and her strong young arms bare, made a verycharming picture. But Jean did not know that. She was extremely hot andsomewhat sticky, and believed herself to be untidy. She felt all thediscomfort and none of the dignity of labor. Hence her greeting was notcordial.
"I haven't time to stop," she said, indicating preserving kettle andjars with a wave of a dripping ladle. "You had better go and find theboys."
"Please let me stay. I like to watch you."
"I don't like being watched. You can't find much amusement in watchingme work."
"Very jolly thing, work," Chetwood observed gravely.
"Bosh!" Miss Jean returned. She eyed her guest with pardonableirritation. "What do you know about work?" she demanded.
"Why--er--not a great deal, I'm afraid," he admitted.
"Then don't talk nonsense."
"But it isn't nonsense. I mean to say work keeps one occupied, youknow."
"I notice it keeps me occupied," Miss Jean retorted, still moreirritated by this profound observation.
"I mean one gets tired of doing nothing."
"Then why doesn't one do something?" she snapped.
Chetwood regarded her whimsically. "I'm afraid you mean me."
"Well," said Miss Jean, "I would like to see you busy at something,instead of looking so blessed cool and--and lazy."
"Oh, I say!"
"A man who doesn't work in this country," Jean stated severely, "is outof place."
"But a man who is out of a place doesn't work, does he?"
"I'm not joking," Miss Jean said with dignity. "I believe in work foreverybody."
"So do I. Admire it immensely, I assure you."
"Bah!" Miss Jean ejaculated. "I don't believe you could do a day's workon a bet. You're like all the rest of--of----"
"Go on," Chetwood encouraged as she came to a stop in some confusion.
"Well, I will," said Miss Jean with sudden determination. "You're likeall the rest of the remittance men. That's what I was going to say."
"One would gather that your opinion of what you call 'remittance men,'is not high."
"High!" Miss Jean's tone expressed much.
"H'm! Wasters, rotters, what?"
"And then some."
"And I'm like them, you think?"
"Oh, well, I didn't mean just that," Miss Jean admitted undercross-examination. "But you _don't_ work, you know."
"Would you like me to work?"
"Why should I care whether you work or not?"
"It _is_ strange," Chetwood murmured.
"I _don't_!" snapped Miss Jean. "I don't care a--a darn! But I'll betwhen I come back in the spring, if you're here you'll be doing just whatyou're doing now."
"I'm sorry you're going away. I thought if we were better acquainted weshould be rather pals."
"We might be," Miss Jean admitted, "but we have our work to do--at leastI have."
"I see plainly," said Chetwood, "that this demon of work will get meyet."
"Well, it won't hurt you a little bit," Miss Jean told him, andthereafter gave her exclusive attention to her preserving.
With the going of Jean, Angus buckled down in earnest. The next yearmust make up for his loss, and with this in view he began to clear moreland. He threw himself into the labor, matching his strength andendurance against the tasks and the time. He worked his teams asmercilessly as he worked himself, and for the first time he began todrive others.
But to this speeding-up Turkey did not take kindly. By nature he wasimpatient of steady work, of control, of all discipline. He cravedmotion, excitement. He would ride from daylight to dark in any sort ofweather rounding up stock, and enjoy himself thoroughly, but half a daybehind a plow would send him into the sulks. He had broken a fine, youngblue mare for his own use, and he took to being out at night, coming inlate. He never told Angus where he went, but though the latter asked noquestions the youngster could feel his disapproval. But as he possesseda vein of obstinacy and contrariness, this merely confirmed him in hiscourse.
Angus maintained grim silence, repressing a strong desire to speak hismind. He recognized that the boy was becoming increasingly impatient ofhis authority, and desired to avoid a clash. As he let things go, Turkeytook more and more rope. Angus learned accidentally that he consortedwith a number of men older than himself, of whom Garland and BlakeFrench were leading spirits. He knew that this was no company for theboy, but as reference to it would inevitably lead to unpleasantness, heput it off. But Turkey's deliberate slacking of work, just when it wasmost necessary, got on his nerves to an extent greater than he knew.
It was necessary to explain to Mr. Braden that he was unable to meet themortgage payments. To his relief, the mortgagee made no difficulty aboutit. Indeed he was most genial.
"I heard you had been hit by the hail," he said. "Well, well, thesethings will happen, and I am not a harsh creditor. I will carry youalong."
"That's very good of you," Angus acknowledged. "I am doing considerablebreaking, and next year, if I don't bump into more hard luck, I'll beable to make a good payment."
Mr. Braden nodded. "Meanwhile there is something you can do for me. I amselling a piece of land to young Chetwood--about five hundred acres--butbefore closing the deal he wants your opinion of it."
Angus had not seen Chetwood for nearly a fortnight. He had notintroduced him to Mr. Braden, but it appeared that they had becomeacquainted otherwise.
"Do I know the land?" he asked.
"I think so. It's about five miles from your ranch, on Canon Creek.There is a little cleared, and an old shack, but otherwise it is mostlyunimproved. A splendid opportunity for an energetic young man to buildup an excellent ranch."
"Do you mean the old Tetreau place?" This was a piece of land long sinceabandoned by a man of that name.
"Why--er--yes, I believe that is what it is called," Mr. Braden replied."It's good, level land--most of it. I am offering it at a very lowfigure--all things considered--twenty dollars."
"And I particularly want this deal to go through," he concluded. "Ishould not mind paying you a little commission, my boy--say five percent.
"I couldn't take a commission from you for valuing land for a buyer."
"Nonsense! Done every day. I might--er--stretch it a little. You are notto worry about that note of yours and the mortgage money, my boy. Onegood turn deserves another, hey?"
"I know the place," Angus said, "but I never thought of putting a valueon it. How about water?"
"Tetreau had a record of eight hundred inches on Canon Creek. That goeswith the place. And there's a good spring creek."
"That little spring wouldn't irrigate more than a few acres," Angusobjected. "Seems to me I heard the old man quit because he couldn'tbring water from the main creek."
Mr. Braden frowned. "Nonsense! Plenty of water. Tetreau was too lazy torun a ditch, that's all. Lots of water. Never mind that. The main thingis the land, which is good. I'll depend on you for a good report, andI'll tell Chetwood to run out and see you."
Angus rode home, none too well pleased with the prospect. H
e could justremember Felix Tetreau, a stooped old Frenchman, and he had a vaguerecollection that the latter had given up the place after a vain attemptto make water run up hill. But it was possible that he had been wrong inhis levels, or, as Mr. Braden had suggested, too lazy to put in a ditch.Anyway, he had gone years before, and it appeared that Mr. Braden whoowned a big block of land in that vicinity, had acquired his holding.The clearing had grown back to wild, which as there had not been much ofit, mattered the less. But the question of water mattered a great deal.
For in that district water was a _sine qua non_. Angus was no victim ofthe dry-farming delusion. Water and plenty of it, was essential in mostyears to grow paying crops. Therefore the value of the land, no matterwhat the quality of the soil, was conditional upon whether water couldbe brought upon it. It was that question which, in spite of Mr. Braden'sairy dismissal, must be investigated in justice to Chetwood. Thereforewhen the latter came to the ranch, Angus took with them a hand level.
The land in question lay close to the foothills, and back of it a small,round mountain rose, but this was evidently not part of the parcel. Thesoil was a dark, sandy loam, which would give good result if properlyfed, watered and cultivated. Angus pointed out these facts to theprospective buyer.
"Then you think it a good investment?" Chetwood queried.
"I did not say just that," Angus replied. "You have to add the cost ofclearing to your purchase price. Then there will be your buildings andfencing and ditches. You have to figure on raising enough to payinterest on your total investment, and wages as well."
"I meant to ask you about the price. Is it fair, or shall I jew oldBraden down a bit? Fancy I could, you know."
"The price is high--as land sells," Angus told him. "You can get good,wild land now for ten dollars an acre. Five years ago you could have gotit for two dollars, and five years before that for fifty cents."
Chetwood whistled. "In the noble language of the country, I was about tobe stung."
"Well," Angus explained, "if land values keep climbing, it might be agood investment, after all. I would not say it might not be. But you canbuy just as good land cheaper."
"Then why does Braden ask so much?"
"I suppose he thinks he can get it."
Chetwood grinned. "In the terse vernacular of the land, 'I get you,Steve.' Shall I offer him ten dollars?"
"That would depend on the water supply."
"Oh, that's absolutely all right. I've seen the government certificate.Eight hundred miners' inches. That's ample, what?"
"Yes--if you can get it on the land."
"But surely that sort of thing was looked into long ago, when the recordwas made."
Angus shook his head. "A water record isn't a guarantee of water. It'smerely a right to take it if you can get it. Water is one thing youcan't take for granted. We have time to run a line to the creek, and seewhere we come out. As for the spring here, it wouldn't water more thanten acres or so."
There is nothing more deceptive, even to the trained eye, than levels ina broken country. The unaided eye can tell nothing about them. To allappearances, in many places, water runs up hill. Nothing but the levelcan prove whether it can be brought upon any given area.
Starting from the upper end of the block they began to take sights. Thedistance to the creek was further than Angus had supposed. They ran intoa broken country where the ground was rocky and less adapted toditching. There were sidehills, which are dangerous because they have anannoying habit of sliding when water-soaked, and gulches which wouldnecessitate fluming. All the time they drew nearer and nearer to thebase of the round mountain. Unless the line could run around the lowerfoot of it the way was barred to water. And finally the line ran intothe base of the hill. There was no going around it. It definitelysettled the question of water. The land, then, was non-irrigable.
"I wonder if that old blighter, Braden, knew this?" Chetwood speculated.
"He might not," Angus replied, though he had his own ideas on thesubject.
"And then again he might," Chetwood grinned. "_Caveat emptor_, and allthat sort of thing. I'm awfully obliged to you, you know."
"That is all right."
"Left to myself I might have bought." He hesitated. "I wish there weresome way for me to show my appreciation."
"Any one who knew the country would have told you the same thing."
"I'm not so sure of that. For instance, there is a rancher namedPoole--know him?"
"Yes," Angus returned, for Poole to whom Braden had once purposedrenting the Mackay ranch, had now some sort of place on the other sideof town.
"Well, friend Braden, when I spoke of getting the opinion of somepractical rancher, suggested Poole. Took a look at Poole, and thoughtI'd rather have you. Braden didn't seem to take kindly to mycounter-suggestion, which naturally confirmed me in it. It's a soundsystem to play the game your opponent doesn't like. I'll tell the oldblighter you didn't recommend the buy."
"That will be the truth."
Chetwood glanced at him keenly.
"I say," he exclaimed, "I don't wish to seem impertinent, but is thereany personal reason why I should let Braden suppose I am doing this onmy own?"
Angus hesitated. "I owe him more money than I can pay just now," hesaid, "but you may tell him what you like."
"Oh, thunder!" Chetwood ejaculated. "I'm afraid I've let you in forsomething. I'll say we never mentioned water, and quite on my own I'lltell him I must have an engineer's report on that."
But perhaps Chetwood did not tell his story convincingly. Or perhaps Mr.Braden was too old a bird. At any rate, when he next saw Angus he askedhim what he had told Chetwood. Angus replied bluntly. Whereupon, Mr.Braden in high indignation accused him of blocking the sale.
"I merely told him what is so," Angus said.
"You brought up the water question yourself."
"Land is no good without water. You know that as well as I do."
"I don't admit that water can't be got on this land. Now, see here, I'mgoing to have a surveyor run the line of a ditch, and I want you to tellChetwood you were mistaken in your levels. Understand?"
"If you can show me I'm mistaken, I'll be glad to tell him. But I'mcertain of them. I've checked them up since."
"Dammit!" Mr. Braden exploded angrily, "do you know I hold a mortgage onyour ranch? Do you know I hold your note? Hey?"
Angus stared at him for a moment, his black brows drawing down, his eyesnarrowing. "And what has that got to do with the levels of this land?"he asked with disconcerting directness.
But Mr. Braden shirked the show-down.
"Do with it, do with it!" he sputtered. "Oh, not a thing, not a damnedthing, of course. You were my agent to conclude this sale, and you threwme down."
"I wasn't your agent. I was acting for Chetwood."
"You were to get a commission from me."
"I told you I couldn't take one."
"Well, you won't get one," Mr. Braden snapped. "Levels! What do you knowabout levels? I'll get somebody that does."
But for some reason Mr. Braden did not do so.
It was nearly a week after this interview, that old Paul Sam rode up onhis paint pony, leading Chief.
"Me sell um cooley kuitan," he announced.
"Who bought him?" Angus asked. For answer the old Indian drew forth fromthe recesses of his garment a slip of paper, which he handed to Angus.The latter read:
"Dear Mackay: I want you to let me have the pleasure of presenting a good horse with a good owner. This, not by way of payment for the service you did me, but in token of my appreciation of kindness to a pilgrim and a stranger here. Am leaving for a few weeks, and will look you up on my return. Faithfully,
"E. W. F. CHETWOOD.
"P. S.--Don't be a bally ass. Keep the horse."
From this surprising letter Angus lifted his eyes to the big chestnut.As he did so he realized that he had wanted him very badly. He took thelead rope from the old Indian.
"Al
l right, Paul Sam," he said. "Thanks for bringing him over. Put yourcayuse in the stable and come up to the house and have some muckamuck."