Part 20 (2/2)
”Do you know what I see?” he questioned with a smile. ”A time when Colonel Mowbray--and Colonel Mowbray's daughter,” he added teasingly--”will look with pride upon the vast acres of Allenwood turned from waste gra.s.sland into productive fields of wheat and oats and flax; when the obsolete horse-plow will be sc.r.a.pped as old iron and the now despised steam-plow will be a highly treasured possession of every settler; when----”
”Never!” Beatrice interrupted emphatically. ”You must understand that my father's views and yours are as widely different as the poles--and my father is the head of Allenwood!”
Harding looked down at the haughty face turned up to him; and a great longing suddenly surged through him. He had never desired her more than at that instant. His admiration showed so strongly in his eyes that the blood swept into Beatrice's face.
”Bee!” Lance called back to them. ”Mrs. Broadwood wants you to verify what I'm telling her about the collie pup.”
Beatrice loved her brother for the interruption.
CHAPTER XII
THE ENEMY WITHIN
It was getting late, but the Allenwood Sports Club prolonged its sitting at the Carlyon homestead. The inst.i.tution had done useful work in promoting good fellows.h.i.+p by means of healthful amus.e.m.e.nts, but recently its management had fallen into the hands of the younger men, and the founders contented themselves with an occasional visit to see that all was going well. Some, however, were not quite satisfied, and Mowbray entertained suspicions about the Club. He was an autocrat, but he shrank from spying, or attempting to coerce a member into betraying his comrades. Some allowance must be made for young blood; and, after all, nothing that really needed his interference could go on, he felt, without his learning about it. Nevertheless, he had a disturbing feeling that an undesirable influence was at work.
Carlyon's room was unusually well furnished, and several fine London guns occupied a rack on the matchboarded wall. The cost of one would have purchased a dozen of the Ma.s.sachusetts-made weapons which the prairie farmers used. The photograph of a horseman in English hunting dress with M.F.H. appended to the autograph was equally suggestive, and it was known that Carlyon's people had sent him to Canada with money enough to make a fair start. Unfortunately, he had not realized that success in farming demands care and strenuous work.
He sat with a flushed, excited face at a rosewood table, upon which the cigar ends, bottles, and gla.s.ses scarcely left room for the cards he was eagerly scanning. Gerald Mowbray leaned back in his chair, watching him with a smile. Emslie, the third man, wore a disturbed frown; opposite him, Markham sat with a heavy, vacant air.
”Your luck's changing, Carlyon,” Gerald said; ”but we must stop at this round. Markham's half asleep--and I'm not surprised, considering what he's drunk; and the Colonel will wonder where I've been, if I stay much longer.”
Carlyon drained his gla.s.s.
”Very well,” he consented, with a harsh laugh and a glitter in his eyes.
”As I've a good deal to get back, I'll double and throw my Percheron team in. Does that take you?”
Markham immediately became alert.
”I think not. Go on, Gerald!”
Gerald put down a card, Emslie followed with a deepening frown, but Markham chuckled as he played. Carlyon started, and then with an obvious effort pulled himself together. For the next few moments all were quiet, and the stillness was emphasized by the patter of the falling cards.
Then Carlyon pushed his chair back noisily and looked at the others, his face pale and set.
”I thought it was a certainty; there was only one thing I forgot,” he said in a strained voice.
Markham leaned forward heavily.
”Fellows who play like you can't afford to forget, my boy. Know better next time; let it be a lesson.”
Carlyon glanced at a notebook and took out a wad of bills which he tried to count.
”Sorry, but I seem to be five dollars short; don't know when you'll get it, but I'll send the horses to the next Brandon sales. I dare say somebody will help me with my plowing.”
”Don't be an a.s.s!” said Gerald. ”Throwing in the team was a piece of silly bluff. We're not going to take advantage of it.”
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