Part 14 (1/2)
Harding laughed as he stood up.
”Oh, I can deal with him. Now you go to sleep and don't worry any more.”
After he left, Lance lay for a while thinking over the conversation. He was puzzled to know what had prompted Harding to come to his rescue. The Allenwood settlers had certainly been none too friendly to the prairie man, who was considered an outsider because he believed in work and in progress. Lance thought that there was no selfish motive in Harding's offer. What, then?
He suddenly shook off the thoughts and, reaching out to a table by his bedside, rang a small handbell there. Beatrice answered it.
”I want something to eat,” he said petulantly. ”Not slops this time; I'm tired of them.”
His sister looked at him in surprise.
”Why, you wouldn't touch your lunch!”
”All the more reason I should want something now. You ought to be glad I'm getting better!”
Beatrice laughed.
”It's a very sudden improvement,” she said. ”Mr. Harding must be a magician. What has he done to you?”
”Harding knows a lot,” Lance answered somewhat awkwardly; then added impulsively: ”In fact, I think he's a remarkably fine fellow all round.”
Beatrice opened her eyes wide. Such an opinion from the son of Colonel Mowbray was pure heresy; but she made no comment. She kissed Lance lightly on the forehead and tripped off downstairs to order some food for him.
Somehow, she was inclined to agree with her brother in his opinion of the prairie man.
CHAPTER IX
A MAN OF AFFAIRS
The warmth of the big stove, which glowed a dull red in places, had melted holes in the frost that obscured the double windows of Davies'
office, but icy draughts flowed round the room, and the temperature of the pa.s.sage outside was down to zero. From where the stove-pipe pierced the wall, drops of a black distillate trickled down, and the office was filled with the smell of tar and hot iron. Rents gaped in the pine paneling, and the door had shrunk to a remarkably easy fit. The building was new, pretentious, and supposed to be centrally heated, but Winnipeg was then pa.s.sing through the transition stage which occurs in the history of most Western towns: emerging from rude disorder with bold but badly guided striving toward beauty and symmetry. Civic ambition was poorly seconded by builder's skill, and the plans of aspiring architects were crudely materialized.
From where Davies sat he could look into the snowy street; the view was far from pleasing. The blackened wreck of a burnt-out store confronted the office block, and behind it straggled a row of squalid shacks.
Farther on rose a wall of concrete with rusty iron framing sticking out of it; and a mound of cut stone and sawed lumber, left as it lay when the frost stopped work, encroached upon the plank sidewalk. Davies, however, was not engrossed in the view, though he had lent money upon some adjacent building lots. A survey map of the Allenwood district lay on his table, and he alternately studied it and gazed out of the window with a thoughtful air.
The Allenwood soil was good, consisting, as it did for the most part, of stiff black gumbo; it was well watered and fairly well wooded; and it occupied the center of a fertile belt. Its position had other natural advantages, and the configuration of the country made it probable that with the first railroad extension a line would run past the settlement to the American frontier. Davies had reason to believe that his view was shared by far-seeing railroad directors; but, whether the line were run or not, the Allenwood farms would rise in value. Davies wanted a hold on the settlement; and he had, to some extent, succeeded in getting it. He held a mortgage on Gerald Mowbray's homestead; it seemed possible to get the younger brother into his power; and he was negotiating with another embarra.s.sed settler. On the other hand, money was tight just then, and Davies' schemes were hampered by a lack of capital. He had written to Lance Mowbray, pressing for some interest that was overdue, and when the lad begged for time had curtly summoned him to Winnipeg. Now he was expecting him, for the east-bound train had arrived.
He heard steps in the pa.s.sage and looked up with some surprise as two men entered his office. Their bronzed faces and their cheap skin coats suggested that they worked upon the land, but there was something in the expression and bearing of the taller man that contradicted this. Davies was a judge of character, and he read that something as a sense of power.
”Good-morning, gentlemen,” he said, with a suave smile. ”I don't believe I have an appointment with you, but I'm always open for business.”
”My name is Harding,” said the taller man; ”and this is my partner, Mr.
Devine. You were expecting Lance Mowbray, of Allenwood; I've come instead.”
Davies would have preferred dealing with young Mowbray himself; this subst.i.tute made him feel somewhat uneasy. After careful inquiries into Mowbray's affairs, Davies did not expect to get the overdue interest.
What he wanted was to renew the loan at a higher rate as the price of waiting.