Part 21 (1/2)

Emslie nodded agreement; and Markham drawled:

”Don't want his splay-footed beasts, and won't lend him my good Clydesdales to spoil. Count out the bills, Gerald; his hand is shaking.”

Carlyon protested that he was a sportsman and paid his debts, but they overruled him.

”Silly thing to do, unless you're made,” Markham declared. Then he turned to Gerald. ”What's become of the younger brother? Never see him now.”

”Oh, he's reformed. On the whole, it's just as well, for there's not room for two gamblers in the family. Besides, the Americans seem to have got hold of him: they live like Methodists.”

”You mean the girl has? Devilish handsome; has a grand way of looking at you. Ask Carlyon; he knows.”

Carlyon colored under Markham's broadly humorous gaze.

”Miss Harding won't trouble herself about Lance,” he said. ”I may add that she doesn't appreciate a graceful compliment.”

”Smacked your face?” suggested Markham with a chuckle. ”Must be going.

Give me my coat.”

A newspaper and some letters fell out of a pocket as he put it on, and he picked them up.

”Quite forgot. Met the mail-carrier as I was driving in. Better look what wheat is doing.”

Carlyon eagerly opened the paper.

”Down again two cents at Chicago! Winnipeg will follow.”

”There's a certain cure,” said Markham thickly. ”All stop plowing. If you do nothing long enough, 'must send the market up. Call it a brilliant idea; wonder n.o.body else thought of it. You look sober, Emslie. Come and help me into my rig.”

They went out, and a few minutes afterward a furious beat of hoofs and a rattle of wheels rang out across the prairie.

”I hope he will get home without breaking his neck,” Carlyon said to Gerald.

”Oh, Markham can take care of himself. But we have something else to think about now.”

”That's true,” Carlyon agreed with a depressed air. ”I took your advice and told that fellow in the Pit to buy wheat; but I wish I'd heard Harding's speech at the council before I made the deal. Now it's clear that I'm dipped pretty deep.” He picked up the letters that were scattered among the cards and started as he saw the embossed stamp on one of them. ”It's from my broker; I'll soon know the worst.”

Gerald, lighting a cigarette, watched the tense expression of the boy's face as he read the letter, and for a few moments nothing was said.

Carlyon looked crushed, but Gerald's position was too serious to allow of his sympathizing much. Taking advantage of his friends' love of excitement, he had won a number of small sums at cards, but this was of no account against what he owed. After a moment Carlyon laid a statement of account before him.

”You can see how much I'm out.”

”Can't you carry it over?”

”Impossible,” Carlyon answered dejectedly. ”I didn't actually buy the grain; I've got to find the difference. Besides, what would be the use of holding on, if wheat's still going to drop?”

”It's awkward,” Gerald agreed. ”You might get some exemption under the Homesteads Act, but this broker could sell you up. Would your people do anything?”

”They won't be asked. Things were not going well with them when I left, and I guess they find it hard enough to keep d.i.c.k at college and provide for the girls. They gave me a good start, but it was understood that I'd get nothing more.”

”Then the only remedy is to borrow the money here.”