CHAPTER XVIII
Nothing Bob Rogeen had overheard about Reedy Jenkins and his schemeshad so intensified his anger as this treatment of the patient,defenceless Ah Sing.
"A Chinaman has the system," remarked Noah Ezekiel as they drove away."He'll lease a ranch, then take in half a dozen partners and put apartner in charge of each section of the field. Raisin' cotton isall-fired particular work, especially with borrowed water--there are asmany ways to ruin it as there are to spoil a pancake. And a partnerisn't so apt to go to sleep at the ditch."
"That is why I went into partnership with Ah Sing," said Bob. "I havenever seen much money made in farming anywhere unless a man who had aninterest in the crop was on the job."
"You bet you haven't," agreed Noah Ezekiel. "Absent treatment mayremove warts and bad dispositions, but it sure won't work on cocklebursand Bermuda grass."
For several miles Bob's mind was busy.
"Noah," he asked, abruptly, "how would you like to go into partnershipwith me and take over the management of that hundred and sixty acres wecultivated last year?"
"As my dad used to say," replied Noah Ezekiel, skeptically, "'Faith isthe substance of things hoped for'; and as I never hope for anysubstance, I ain't got no faith--especially in profits. Whenever Icome round, profits hide out like a bunch of quails on a rainy day. Iprefer wages."
Bob laughed. "Suppose we make it both. I'll pay you wages, andbesides give you one fifth of the net profits."
"I reckon that'll be satisfactory," agreed Noah. "But any Saturdaynight you find yourself a little short on net profits, you can buy myshare for about twenty dollars in real money."
As they crossed the line Noah Ezekiel inquired:
"But if me and the Chinaman raise your cotton, what are you goin' todo?"
"Raise more cotton," Bob answered. "You know," he spoke what had beenin his mind all the time, "I never saw anything I wanted as much asthat Red Butte Ranch. It is on that Dillenbeck System and its watercosts about twice as much as on the regular canals, but it is richenough to make up the difference."
"Well, why don't you get it?" asked Noah. "Reedy Jenkins is goin' tolose all his leases inside of a month if he doesn't sell 'em; and withcotton at six cents, they ain't shovin' each other off of Reedy'sstairway tryin' to get to him first. It's my idea that a fellow couldbuy out the Red Butte for a song, and hire a parrot to sing it for acracker."
"But that is the smallest part of it," said Bob. "To farm that fivethousand acres in cotton this season would take round a hundredthousand dollars, and," he laughed, "I lack considerable overninety-nine thousand of having that much."
"Lend it to yourself out of money you are lending for old Crill,"suggested Noah.
After Bob dropped Noah at the Greek restaurant--"Open Day andNight--Waffles"--he drove down the street, stopped in front of anoffice building, and went up to see a lawyer that he knew.
"T. J.," he began at once, "I want you to see what is the lowest dollarthat will buy the Red Butte Ranch and its equipment. Reedy Jenkinscan't farm it, and he can't afford to pay $15,000 rent and let it lieidle. You ought to be able to get it cheap. Get a rock-bottom offer,but don't by any means let him know who wants it."
As Bob went down the stairs his head was fairly whizzing with plans.This thing had taken strong hold of him. He had longed for many monthsto get possession of that ranch but had never seriously thought of itas a possibility. But if Jim Crill would risk the money, it would bethe great opportunity. Five thousand acres of cotton might make a bigfortune in one year.
"Of course"--doubt had its inning as he drove north toward ElCentro--"if he failed it would mean, instead of a fortune, a lifetimedebt." Yet he was so feverishly hopeful he let out the little machinea few notches beyond the speed limit. At El Centro he went direct tothe Crill bungalow.
Mrs. Barnett opened the door when he knocked, opened it about fourteeninches, and stood looking at him as though he were a leper and hadeaten onions besides.
"Is Mr. Crill in?" Bob asked.
"Mr. Crill is not in." She bit off each word with the finality of aclosed argument and shut the door with a whack so decisive it wasalmost a slam.
Bob found Jim Crill in the lobby of the hotel, smoking; he sat down byhim, and concentrated for a moment on the line of argument he hadthought out.
"Mr. Crill, cotton is selling at six cents now. It won't go any lower."
"It doesn't need to as far as I'm concerned." The old gentleman puffedhis pipe vigorously.
"It will be at least ten cents this fall." Bob was figuring on theback of an old envelope. "Much more next year."
Then he opened up on the Red Butte Ranch. Bob never did such talkingin his life. He knew every step of his plan, for he had thought outfifty times just what he would do with that ranch if he had it. Heoutlined this plan clearly and definitely to Jim Crill. He carefullyestimated every expense, and allowed liberally for incidentals. Hefigured the lowest probable price for cotton, and in addition discussedthe possibilities of failure.
"I feel sure," he concluded, definitely, "that I can put it through,that I can make from fifty to a hundred and fifty thousand dollars inprofits on one crop. If you want to risk it and stake me, I'll gofifty-fifty on the profits."
"No partnership for me," Crill shook his head vigorously. He had madesome figures on an envelope and sat scowling at them. He had a gooddeal of idle money. It this crop paid out--and he felt reasonably sureBob would make it go--it would give him $10,000 interest on the$100,000; and his half of the cotton seed would be worth at least$10,000 more. Twenty thousand returns against nothing was worth somerisk.
"Besides," added Bob, "the lease itself, if cotton goes up, will beworth fifty thousand next year."
"That's what Reedy Jenkins said," remarked the old gentleman, dryly."Just left here an hour ago--wanted to borrow money to pay the rentthis year and let the land lie idle."
Bob's heart beat uneasily. "Did you lend it to him?"
"No!" The old man almost spat the word out. "He owes me too muchalready."
For two minutes, three, four, Jim Crill smoked and Bob waited, countingthe thump of his heartbeats in his temple.
"I'll let you have the hundred thousand," he said directly. "I'vewatched you; I know an honest man when I see one."
Bob's spirits went up like a rocket; but his mind quickly veered roundto Reedy Jenkins.
"This will make Reedy Jenkins about the maddest man in America," heremarked. He knew now that Reedy would fight him to the bitterest end.
Jim Crill grinned. "So'll Evy be mad. You fight Reedy, and I'll--run."