CHAPTER V
About a week later, Bill, accompanied by Lee, drove the Swallow over tothe Aviation Field. They found Horace Jardin staying there at Frank'squarters, as the houses are called on all army posts. Mr. Jardin hadgone down into the Burkburnett Oil Fields and Frank had invited the boyto come and stay with him. Mrs. Anderson, a weak and idle person, wasflattered to have the young millionaire as her guest and revelled asFrank did in his glowing yarns of everything concerning the Jardins.Horace treated Mrs. Anderson and the Major with all the politeness hecould muster.
It was always his policy to be agreeable to other fellows' parents. Itmade things easier all around to have what he privately and rudelycalled "the old folks" think he was a fine boy, and he found that theyalways "fell for it" when he paid them a little attention.
So he cleverly kept silence whenever the Major was around, only askingquestions that he knew would please him to answer and enlarge upon.
With Mrs. Anderson he worked a different scheme. He launched intoglowing accounts of parties and bridge luncheons his mother had given,recounting with more or less truth details about the food and thedecorations, and the jewels worn by the guests.
"Seems to be a very quiet, studious boy," was Major Anderson's decision,and Mrs. Anderson proclaimed him "The sweetest child, with such _lovely_manners, and perfectly unspoiled by his enormous wealth."
Jardin laughed in his sleeve, and Frank, also a willing listener, but toa greatly differing line of talk, was rapidly absorbing all the mentaland moral poison that Jardin could think up.
As Bill looked at his friend, he was conscious of a change in him. Hehad a worldly, bored air that to Bill was extremely funny. Frank andHorace did not trouble to speak to Lee, who grinned cheerfully and saidnothing, while he cared even less. Lee saw through the two boys and wasdetermined to keep them from doing any harm to Bill, for whom he feltthe truest affection. They were growing into a friendship that wasdestined to last for many years.
Lee was the soul of honor and had a sense of humor seldom found in oneof Indian blood, and was as ready to romp and roughhouse as a boy oftwelve. His straightforwardness and his tender care of Mrs. Shermancaused the Major to rejoice every day that he had transferred him to hisservice as orderly.
Lee had the Indian gift of silence, so he made no comment at all when hewas alone with Bill and Bill commenced to sputter and fuss about thechange in Frank. He just stared ahead, gazing off across the prairie orcarving delicately on another length of chain which Mrs. Sherman hadasked him to make for her sister back in the east.
"My airplane is finished," said Horace as soon as he could make Billhear the glad news. For once he looked genuinely pleased and excited.
"Good enough!" cried Bill. "Is it here?"
"Of course not," scoffed Jardin. "I will not get it until I go backeast. But Major Anderson has arranged for me to learn to fly here. Myfather called him on long distance and arranged it."
"I guess I will hang around and pick up some pointers myself," saidBill. "When do these lessons come off? 'Most any time?"
"Almost any time we want to go over to the Field and get hold of aninstructor," answered Frank. "Now the war is over, the rush is over tooand we are taking our time over here. Stick around all you want to,Bill; I can fly myself."
Walking over to the hangars, the boys found the field bright with thegiant dragonflies hopping here and there or rising slowly from theground, and taking wing with ever increasing noise and speed. Leefollowed the boys and was glad when he found that Bill could not make aflight without written permission from his parents. This was a rule ofthe Field, no minor being allowed to go up without the presentation ofsuch a paper, which acted as a sort of release in ease of any accident.Jardin buttoned himself into an elaborate and most expensive leathercoat, carefully, adjusted his goggles, stepped into a plane beside theusual pilot who winked slyly at Lee, and proceeded, to send his big bugskimming here and there across the field under the wobbly and uncertainguidance of Horace. They did not leave the ground, but Frank soon soaredupward on a short flight that filled Bill with joy and envy all at thesame time. He felt that he _must_ fly.
Frank was really mastering the control of a plane in a remarkablemanner. The instructors said that he was a born birdman. He seemed toknow by instinct what to do and when to do it.
Bill and Lee, on the sidelines by the hangars, did not find all thisvery exciting. Bill grew more and more crazy to go up, and Lee, who wasan artilleryman and had no use for flying, was sorry to see the crazefor the dangerous sport grow in his favorite.
Finally the lesson was over, and Frank and Horace, both much inclined tocrow, rejoined Bill and Lee to talk it over. They wandered over to theAndersons' quarters, where Lee left them to go to the men's mess for hisluncheon. Mrs. Anderson was out attending a bridge luncheon, and theMajor did not come home at noon, so the boys had the table tothemselves.
"Well, I have decided to be an aviator," declared Jardin. "There willbe another war sometime perhaps, and there is nothing like being ready.I suppose I will have to go to school this winter because I agreed to.Gee, I hate the thought of it! Perhaps there will be some way of gettingout of it, I can almost always work dad one way or another. He is crazyfor me to go through college."
"So is my father," said Frank. "But I am going to be an aviator too, andI don't see any need of college."
"My father is set on college, too," said Bill, "or at least a goodtraining school."
"Well, he is only your stepfather, so I suppose you will do just as youlike about it," said Jardin.
"I don't see it that way," replied Bill, flushing, "Of course he is mystepfather, but he is the kindest and best man I ever knew or heard ofand I will say right now I am perfectly crazy over him. If I hadn'tbeen, I would never have let mother marry him."
"Much she would have cared what you wanted!" chuckled Jardin.
"She would have done exactly as I said," Bill insisted. "We always talkthings over together and never decide any really _big_ things without agood old consultation."
"Nobody ever consults me," grumbled Frank.
"None of the women consult me," said Jardin. "They know I won't bebothered with them. Dad and I usually go over things together."
How Horace Jardin's father would have laughed if he could have heard hisson and heir make that remark! Horace was Mr. Jardin's greatest care andproblem. He often said that his son caused him more trouble than it gavehim to run all his factories. Mr. Jardin was a very unwise man who lovedhis only son so much that he did not seem able to make him obey. Horacehad not been a bad boy to start with, but twelve years of having his ownway and feeling that, as he said, he could work his father and motherfor anything that trouble could procure or money buy had made himselfish, grasping and unreliable. Other and graver faults weredeveloping in him fast, to his mother's amazement and his father'ssorrow.
When Mr. Jardin found that he must go down into the oil fields to lookafter his wells there, he was greatly relieved and pleased to find thathe could leave his son with such pleasant people as the Andersons. Heknew that for awhile at least the novelty of being right at an AviationPost would keep Horace out of any serious mischief. In a measure he wasright. The discipline and routine, the sharp commands, the rage of theinstructors if anything went even a shade wrong, impressed Horace as hehad never been impressed before. All the good in him came to thesurface; the bad hid itself away.
Unfortunately, however, while Horace was spending his time in whatseemed to all a highly creditable manner, his influence over Frank wasbad, and grew worse as time went on. He absorbed like a sponge everyword of Jardin's boastful tales; he learned a thousand new ways in whichto gain his own ends; he learned to cheat; he learned to lie without thefeeling of guilt and distress that used to bother him when he slippedfrom the truth. And most of all, he was made to feel that there wasnothing so necessary as money, money and still more money. Every letterfrom Mr. Jardin brought Horace a check for anything from twenty-five toa hundred dollars
, and this money was spent like water.
Frank, who had thought his allowance of a dollar a week a fine andgenerous amount, watched Jardin buy his way and squander money in everydirection. Frank commenced to worry about school. It must be as Horacesaid: useless to try to be happy or comfortable unless one had a pocketfull of change all the time. He commenced to wish for some money, thenthe wish changed, and he wished for a certain sum, the amount he thoughtwould be sufficient to carry him through the three terms of school. Hemade up his mind that he wanted six hundred dollars. Where this vast sumwas to come from he did not know. He knew very well that his father andmother would not give it to him. He could not earn it. Only a few weekslater the boys would be sent east to school. Six hundred dollars hewanted, and his whole mind seemed to focus on that amount like a burningglass, and the thought of it scorched him.
All through luncheon Frank thought of the money. He went off intoday-dreams in which he rescued the daughter of the Colonel from allsorts of dangers and invariably after each rescue, the Colonel wouldsay, "My boy, thanks are too tame. I insist, in fact I _order_ you toaccept this little token of my regard." And then he would press intoFrank's hand six hundred dollars. It was thrilling; and in a day-dreamso easy.
The fact that the Colonel's only daughter was a strapping damsel whostood five feet eight and weighed one hundred and sixty pounds andalways took the best of care of herself in all kinds of tight placeswithout asking odds of anyone, did not affect Frank's day-dreams at all.Neither did the fact that the Colonel was well known to be so close withhis money that he had learned to read the headlines upside down so thathe seldom had to buy a paper of a newsy! Six hundred dollars ... itwould have killed him!
Frank was called back to the present by hearing Horace say,
"Six hundred dollars! Where does a common soldier get all that?"
Frank looked up from his dessert quite wild-eyed. It was so pat!
"His grandfather sent it to him. He has a lot more than that."
"What are you talking about?" demanded Frank, coming wholly out of histrance and looking from one to the other. "Who has six hundred dollars,and whose grandfather sent it to him?"
"Lee's," said Bill.
"I don't believe it!"
"It is true," Bill affirmed. "I was just telling Horace that I went toLawton this morning before I came here, so that Lee could bank themoney. He has a nice bank account. He is saving up so he can go intobusiness when he is discharged."
"Well, I don't believe it," said Frank bitterly. Six hundreddollars--and someone else had it!
"It is true anyhow," repeated Bill, "and this is the way it happened.Years and years ago, as the storytellers say, the Government decided togrant to every Indian a certain amount of ground. I forget how much Leetold me. Anyhow, it was a nice large farm, and they gave one to eachIndian. Some of the Indians were glad to get the grant and went rightoff and settled down and did their best to be farmers. And some of themdidn't want land, and said they wouldn't _have_ land. It looked too muchlike work.
"Lee's grandfather was one of those. He just said no, he wouldn't takeit. But the Government knew that what one Indian had, the rest ought tohave or there would be scrapping over it sooner or later, sure asshooting.
"So old Foxy Grandpa found a farm wished off on him whether he liked itor not. He was quite mad about it--so mad that for a long while hewouldn't speak more than once a week instead of once in a day or two,the way he usually did. Bimeby he built a house and his boys, who wereall getting an education, commenced to work the ground and collectcattle and horses. This commenced to interest grandpa a little, althoughhe wouldn't help, and he used to sit on the back porch and look over thefarm and watch his children, and just rattle right along, saying nothingat all.
"Then all at once oil was discovered in Oklahoma, and the Governmenttook control of the Indian grants. That; is, they dig the wells and givethe Indians a big royalty. If the well is a dry hole, it does not costthe Indian anything.
"The fellows who knew about such things came moseying aroundgrandfather's farm and thought they smelled oil. So they put up aderrick, and commenced to drill right where the pig yard was, not farfrom the house.
"Grandfather just sat right on the back porch and watched them do it.Didn't keep them from work by his talking; just sat and looked on. Ittook several weeks to drill the well, but grandfather kept right onwatching.
"Finally bing, bang! They struck, and it was a gusher. Just poured rightout and most drowned grandfather on the back porch before they couldplug it and fix the tanks.
"The first dividend was five thousand dollars, and grandfather took itand looked at it and then shoved it over to his oldest son and commencedto talk. That is, Lee said he spoke _one word_ in the Indian language.It meant the-car-that-runs-by-itself. He wanted an automobile! Well, hisson went off and got him the biggest he could for the money, and now theold gentleman is quite satisfied.
"When he isn't riding around the country he still sits and watches thatold gusher keep gushing. He gets about two hundred dollars a day out ofit."
"That's nothing!" said Horace Jardin.
"_Nothing?_" repeated Bill. "Well, it would mean _some_thing to me, Ican tell you!"
"Nothing?" cried Frank in a tone filled with real pain. "_Nothing?_ Mysoul! It would be six hundred dollars every three days."
"Why pick on six hundred dollars?" asked Bill. "Why not fourteen hundreda week? Those old wells go right on working on Sunday, you know."
Frank slammed down his fork and shoved his chair back from the table.
"Oh, it is a _shame_!" he cried bitterly.
Both boys looked at him in surprise.
"What ails you, anyhow?" asked Bill.
"Nothing," said Frank.