CHAPTER IV
THE TIGHTENING OF THE NET
It was a hot morning of early summer when I rode up the low rise to myhouse at Gaspard's Trail. A few willows straggled behind one side of it,but otherwise it rose unsheltered from the wind-swept plain, which,after a transitory flush of greenness, had grown dusty white again. Ihad been in the saddle since sunrise, when the dewy freshness hadinfused cheerfulness and vigor into my blood, but now it was with afeeling of dejection I reined in my horse and sat still, looking aboutme.
The air was as clear as crystal, so that the birches far off on thewestern horizon cut sharply against the blue. All around the rest of thecircle ran an almost unbroken sweep of white and gray, streaked in oneplace by the dust of alkali rolling up from a strip of bitter water,which flashed like polished steel. Long plow-furrows stretched acrossthe foreground, but even these had been baked by pitiless sunshine tothe same monotony of color, and it was well I had not sown the whole ofthem, for sparse, sickly blades rose in the wake of the harrows wheretall wheat should have been. Behind these stood the square log dwellingand straggling outbuildings of logs and sod, all of a depressingugliness, while two shapeless yellow mounds, blazing under the sunshine,represented the strawpile granaries. There was no touch of verdure inall the picture, for it had been a dry season, which boded ill for me.
Presently a horse and a rider, whose uniform was whitened by the fibrousdust, swung out of a shallow ravine--or _coulee_, as we called them--andTrooper Cotton cantered towards me. "Hotter than ever, and I supposethat accounts for your downcast appearance," he said. "I've never seenweather like it. Even the gophers are dead."
"It grows sickening; but you are wrong in one respect," I answeredruefully. "All the gophers in the country have collected around my grainand wells. As they fall in after every hearty meal of wheat, we havebeen drinking them. You are just in time for breakfast, and I'll be gladof your company. One overlooks a good deal when things are going well,but the sordid monotony of these surroundings palls on one now andthen."
"You are not the only man who feels it," said the trooper, while atemporary shadow crossed his face. "You have been to Bonaventure toooften, Ormesby. Of course, it's delightful to get into touch with thingsone has almost forgotten, but I don't know that it's wise for a poorman, which is, perhaps, why I allowed Haldane to take me in last night.You, however, hardly come into the same category."
"I shall soon, unless there's a change in the weather," I answered witha frown. "But come in, and tell me what Haldane--or his daughters--saidto you."
"I didn't see much of Miss Haldane," said Cotton, as we rode ontogether. "Of course, she's the embodiment of all a woman of that kindshould be; but I can't help feeling it's a hospitable duty when shetalks to me. You see I've forgotten most of the little I used to know,and she is, with all respect, uncomfortably superior to an averageindividual."
I was not pleased with Trooper Cotton, but did not tell him so."Presumably you find Miss Lucille understands you better?" I answered,with a trace of ill-humor.
The lad looked straight at me. "I'm not responsible for the weather,Ormesby," he said, a trifle stiffly. "Still, since you have put it so,it's my opinion that Miss Lucille Haldane would understand anybody. Shehas the gift of making you feel it also. To change the subject, however,I was over warning Bryan about his fireguard furrows, and yours hardlyseem in accordance with the order."
I laughed, and said nothing further until a man in a big straw hatappeared in the doorway. "Who's that?" asked Cotton, drawing his bridle.
"Foster Lane," I answered. "He came over yesterday."
"Ah!" said the trooper, pulling out his watch. "On reflection, perhaps Ihad better not come in. I am due at the Cree reserve by ten, and, as myhorse is a little lame, I don't want to press him. This time you willexcuse me."
His excuse was certainly lame, as I could see little the matter with thehorse; and, being short of temper that morning, I answered sharply: "Iwon't press you; but is it a coincidence that you remember this onlywhen you recognize Lane?"
Trooper Cotton, who was frank by nature and a poor diplomatist, lookeduneasy. "I don't want to offend you, Ormesby, but one must draw the linesomewhere, and I will not sit down with that man," he said. "I know he'syour guest, but you would not let me back out gracefully, and, if it'snot impertinent, I'll add that I'm sorry he is."
"I congratulate you on being able to draw lines, but just now I myselfcannot afford to be particular," I answered dryly; and when, with afeeble apology, Cotton rode away, it cost me an effort to greet theother man civilly.
As breakfast was ready, he took his place at the table, and glanced atme whimsically. Foster Lane was neither very prepossessing nordistinctly the reverse in appearance. He was stout, and somewhat flabbyin face, with straw-colored hair and a thick-lipped mouth; but while hislittle eyes had a humorous twinkle, there was a suggestion of force aswell as cunning about him. He was of middle age, and besidesrepresenting a so-styled "development company" was, by profession, landagent, farmers' financier, and mortgage jobber, and, as naturallyfollows, a usurer.
"Say, I'm not deaf yet, Ormesby," he commenced, with coarse good-humor."Particular kind of trooper that one, isn't he? Is he another broken-upBritish baronet's youngest son, or--because they only raise his kind inthe old country--what has the fellow done?"
"He's a friend of mine," I answered. "I never inquired of him. Still,I'm sorry you overheard him."
"That's all right," was the answer. "My hide is a pretty thick one; andone needs such a protection in my business. Give a dog a bad name andyou may as well hang him, Rancher Ormesby, although I flatter myself I'ma necessity in a new country. How many struggling ranchers would gounder in a dry season but for my assistance; and how many fertile acresnow growing the finest wheat would lie waste but for me? Yet, when I askenough to live on, in return, every loafer without energy or foresightabuses me. It's a very ungrateful world, Ormesby."
Lane chuckled as he wiped his greasy forehead, and paused before hecontinued: "I've been thinking all night about carrying over the loanyou mentioned, and though money's scarce just now, this is mysuggestion. I'll let you have three-fourths of its present appraisedvalue on Crane Valley, and you can then clear Gaspard's Trail, andhandle a working balance. I'd sooner do that than carry over--see?"
I set down my coffee cup because I did not see. I had expected he wouldhave exacted increased interest on the loan due for repayment, andinterest in Western Canada is always very high; but it seemed curiousthat he should wish to change one mortgage for another. It also struckme that if, in case I failed to make repayment, Crane Valley would bevaluable to him, it should be worth at least as much to me.
"That would not suit me," I said.
"No?" and Lane spoke slowly, rather as one asking a question than with ahint of menace. "Feel more like letting me foreclose on you?"
"You could not do that, because I should pay you off," I said. "I coulddo it, though there's no use denying that it would cripple me just now.As of course you know, whatever I could realize on at present, wheneverybody is short of money and trade at a standstill, should bringtwice as much next season. That is why I wish the loan to run on."
"Well!" And Lane helped himself before he answered. "In that case, I'llhave to tax you an extra ten per cent. It seems high, but no bank wouldlook at encumbered property or a half-developed place like Crane Valley.Take it, or leave it, at six months' date. That would give you time tosell your fat stock and realize on your harvest."
I fancied there was a covert sneer in the last words, because I hadfaint hope of any harvest, and answered accordingly. "It seemsextortionate, but even so, should pay me better than sacrificing now."
"Money's scarce," said Lane suavely. "I'm going on to Lawrence's, andwill send you in the papers. Lend me as good a horse as you have for aday or two."
I did not like the man's tone, and the request was too much like anorder; but I made no further comment; though a load seemed lifted fromme when he
rode away, and I started with my foreman to haul home prairiehay. It was fiercely hot, and thick dust rolled about our light wagon,while each low rise, cut off as it were from the bare levels, floatedagainst the horizon. The glare tired one's vision, and, half-closing myaching eyes, I sank into a reverie. For eight long years I had toiledlate and early, taxing the strength of mind and body to the utmost. Ihad also prospered, and lured on by a dream, first dreamed in England, Igrew more ambitious, breaking new land and extending my herds withborrowed capital. That had also paid me until a bad season came, andwhen both grain and cattle failed, Lane became a menace to myprosperity. It was a bare life I and my foreman lived, for every dollarhardly won was entrusted in some shape to the kindly earth again, and nocent wasted on comforts, much less luxuries; but I had seldom time tomiss either of them, and it was not until Haldane brought his daughtersto Bonaventure that I saw what a man with means and leisure might makeof his life. Then came the reaction, and there were days when I grewsick of the drudgery and heavy physical strain; but still, spurred onalternately by hope and fear, I relaxed no effort.
Now, artificial grasses are seldom sown on the prairie where usually thenatural product grows only a few inches high, and as building logs arescarce, implements are often kept just where they last were used. It wastherefore necessary to seek hay worth cutting in a dried-out slough, orswamp, and next to find the mower, which might lie anywhere within aradius of four miles or so. We came upon them both together, the mowerlying on its side, red with rust, amid a stretch of waist-high grass.The latter was harsh and wiry, heavy-scented with wild peppermint, andmade ready for us by the sun.
There were, however, preliminary difficulties, and I had worked myselfinto a state of exasperation before the rusty machine could be inducedto run. After a vigorous hammering and the reckless use of oil the pairof horses were at last just able to haul it, groaning vehemently,through the dried-up swamp. I was stripped almost to the skin by thistime, the dust that rose in clouds turned to mire upon my drippingcheeks and about my eyes, while bloodthirsty winged creatures hoveredround my head.
"This," said Foreman Thorn, as he wiped the red specks from his face andhands, "is going to be a great country. We can raise the finest insectson the wide earth already. The last time I was down to Traverse a mancame along from somewhere with a gospel tent, and from what he saidthere wasn't much chance for anyone to raise cattle. He'd socked it tous tolerable for half-an-hour at least, when Tompson's Charlie gets upand asks him: 'Did you ever break half-thawn sod with oxen?' 'No, myman; but this interruption is unseemly,' says he. 'It's not aconundrum,' says Charlie. 'Did you ever sleep in a mosquito muskeg orcut hay in a dried-out slough?' and the preacher seeing we all wanted ananswer, shakes his head. 'Then you start in and try, and find out thatthere are times when a man must talk or bust, before you worry us,' saysCharlie. But who's coming along now?"
I had been too busy to pay much attention to the narrative or to noticea rattle of wheels, and I looked up only when a wagon was drawn upbeside the slough. A smooth-shaven man, with something familiar abouthis face, sat on the driving-seat smiling down at me.
"Good-morning, Rancher Ormesby. Wanting any little pictures of yourselfto send home to friends in the old country?" he said, pointing to whatlooked like the lens of a camera projecting through the canvas behindhim. "I'll take you for half-a-dollar, as you are, if you'll give me theright to sell enlargements as a prairie study."
The accent was hardly what one might have expected from one of thetraveling adventurers who at intervals wandered across the country, andI looked at the speaker with a puzzled air. "I have no time to spare forfooling, and don't generally parade half-naked before either the publicor my civilized friends," I said.
"Some people look best that way," answered the other, regarding mecritically; whereupon Thorn turned round and grinned. "The team and tallgrass would make an effective background. Stand by inside there, Edmond.It's really not a bad model of a bare throat and torso, and as I don'tknow that your face is the best of you, the profile with a shadow on itwould do--just so! Say, I wonder did you know those old canvas overallsdrawn in by the leggings are picturesque and become you? There--I'm muchobliged to you."
A faint click roused me from the state of motionless astonishment hissheer impudence produced, and when I strode forward Thorn's grin ofamusement changed to one of expectancy. "You don't want anyhair-restorer, apparently, though I've some of the best in the Dominionat a dollar the bottle; but I could give you a salve for thecomplexion," continued the traveler, and I stopped suddenly when aboutto demand the destruction of the negative or demolish his camera.
"Good heavens, Boone! Is it you; and what is the meaning of thismummery?" I asked, staring at him more amazed than ever.
"Just now I'm called Adams, if you please," said the other, holding outhis hand. "I hadn't an opportunity for thanking you for your forbearancewhen we met at Bonaventure, but I shall not readily forget it. This isnot exactly mummery. It provides me with a living, and suits my purpose.I could not resist the temptation of trying to discover whether yourecognized me, or whether I was playing my part artistically."
"Are you not taking a big risk, and why don't you exploit a saferdistrict?" I asked; and the man smiled as he answered: "I don't thinkthere's a settler around here who would betray me even if he guessed myidentity, and the troopers never got a good look at me. I live two orthree hundred miles east, you see, and the loss of a beard and mustachealters any man's appearance considerably. I also have a little businessdown this way. Have you seen anything of Foster Lane during the lastweek or two?"
"Yes," I said. "He has just ridden over from my place to Lawrence's, inCrane Valley."
"You have land there, too," said Boone, as though aware of it already;and when I nodded, added: "Then if you are wise you will see that devildoes not get his claws on it. I presume you are not above taking a hintfrom me?"
I looked straight at him. "I know very little of you except that thereis a warrant out for your arrest, and I am not addicted to taking advicefrom strangers."
Boone returned my gaze steadily without resentment, and I had time totake note of him. He was a tall, spare, sinewy man, deeply bronzed likemost of us; but now that he had, as it were, cast off all pertaining tothe traveling pedlar, there was an indefinite something in his speechand manner which could hardly have been acquired on the prairie. He didnot look much over thirty, but his forehead was seamed, and from othersigns one might have fancied he was a man with a painful history. Thenhe flicked the dust off his jean garments with the whip, and laughed alittle.
"I am an Englishman, Rancher Ormesby, and, needless to say, so are you.We are not a superfluously civil people, and certain nationalcharacteristics betray you. I fancy we shall be better acquainted, and,that being so, feel prompted to tell you a story which, after whatpassed at Bonaventure, you perhaps have a right to know. You will stop awhile for lunch, anyway, and if you have no objections I will take minealong with you."
I could see no reasonable objection to this, and presently we sattogether under the wagon for the sake of coolness, while, when the mowerceased its rattle, the dust once more settled down upon the slough. Itwas almost too hot to eat; there was no breath of wind, and the glare ofthe sun-scorched prairie grew blinding.
"I should not wonder if you took most kindly to indirect advice, andthere is a moral to this story," said Boone, when I lit my pipe. "Someyears ago a disappointed man, who knew a little about land and horses,came out from the old country to farm on the prairie, bringing with hima woman used hitherto to the smoother side of life. He saw it was a goodland and took hold with energy, believing the luck had turned at last,while the woman helped him gallantly. For a time all went well withthem, but the loneliness and hardship proved too much for the woman,whose strength was of the spirit and not of the body, and she commencedto droop and pine. She made no complaint, but her eyes lost theirbrightness, and she grew worn and thin, while the man grew troubled. Shehad already given up very
much for him. He saw his neighbors prosperingon borrowed capital, and, for the times were good, determined to risksowing a double acreage. That meant comfort instead of privation if allwent well, and, toiling late and early, he sowed hope for a brighterfuture along with the grain. So far it is not an uncommon story."
I nodded, when the speaker, pausing, stared somberly towards thehorizon, for since that English visit I also had staked all I hoped forin the future on the chances of the seasons.
"The luck went against him," the narrator continued. "Harvest frost,drought, and summer hail followed in succession, and when the borrowedmoney melted the man who held the mortgage foreclosed. He was within hisrights in this, but he went further, for while there were men in thatdistrict who would, out of kindliness or as a speculation, have boughtup the settler's possessions at fair prices, the usurer had his graspalso on them, and when a hint was sent them they did nothing. Thereforethe auction was a fraud and robbery, and all was bought up by aconfederate for much less than its value. There was enough to pay theloan off--although the interest had almost done so already--but notenough to meet the iniquitous additions; and the farmer went out ruinedon to Government land with a few head of stock a richer man he had oncedone a service to gave him; but the woman sickened in the sod hovel hebuilt. There was no doctor within a hundred miles, and the farmer hadscarcely a dollar to buy her necessaries. Even then the usurer had notdone with him. He entered proceedings to claim the few head of cattlefor balance of the twice-paid debt. The farmer could not defend himself;somebody took money for willful perjury to evade a clause of thehomestead exemptions, and the usurer got his order. The woman lay veryill when he came with a band of desperadoes to seize the cattle. Theythreatened violence; a fracas followed, and the farmer's hands were, foronce, unsteady on the rifle he did not mean to use, for when a drunkencowboy would have ransacked his dwelling the trigger yieldedprematurely, and the usurer was carried off with a bullet through hisleg. The woman died, and was buried on a lonely rise of the prairie; andthe man rode out with hatred in his heart and a price upon his head. Youshould know the rest of the story--but the sequel is to follow. It wasnot without an effort or a motive I told it you."
I stretched out my hand impulsively towards the speaker. "It isappreciated. I need not ask one name, but the other----"
"Is Foster Lane; and in due time he shall pay in full for all."
Boone's voice, which had grown a trifle husky, sank with the last wordsto a deeper tone, and the sinewy right hand he raised for a moment fellheavily, tight-clenched, upon his knee. He said nothing further for awhile, but I felt that if ever the day of reckoning came one might besorry for Foster Lane.
Presently he shrugged his shoulders and rose abruptly. "I have a case ofpomade to sell the Swedes over yonder, and if my luck is good, somephotographs to take," he said, resuming his former manner. "I presumeyou wouldn't care to decorate your house with tin-framed oleographs ofGerman manufacture. I have a selection, all of the usual ugliness.Whatever happens, one must eat, you know. Well, Lane's gone into CraneValley, and it happens I'm going that way, too. This, I hope, is thebeginning of an acquaintance, Ormesby."
He sold Thorn a bottle of some infallible elixir before he climbed intohis tented wagon, and left me troubled as he jolted away across theprairie. One thing, however, I was resolved upon, and that was to payoff Foster Lane at the earliest opportunity. By parting with my beststock at a heavy sacrifice it seemed just possible to accomplish it.