Part 25 (1/2)
A BOLD SCHEME
One morning a week or two after his meeting with Beatrice, Harding drove his rattling engine across the plowed land. His face was sooty, his overalls were stained with grease, and now and then a shower of cinders fell about his head. Behind him Devine stood in the midst of a dust-cloud, regulating the bite of the harrows that tossed about the hard, dry clods. It was good weather for preparing the seedbed, and the men had been busy since sunrise, making the most of it. Spring comes suddenly in the Northwest, the summer is hot but short, and the grain must be sown early if it is to escape the autumn frost.
When they reached the edge of the breaking, Harding stopped the engine, and, taking a spanner from a box, turned to look about. The blue sky was flecked with fleecy clouds driving fast before the western breeze. The gra.s.s had turned a vivid green, and was checkered by cl.u.s.ters of crimson lilies. The ducks and geese had gone, but small birds of glossy black plumage with yellow bars on their wings fluttered round the harrows.
”Looks promising,” Harding said. ”The season has begun well. That's fortunate, for we have lots to do. I'd go on all night if there was a moon.”
”Then I'm glad there isn't,” Devine replied; ”I want some sleep. But this jolting's surely rough on the machine. I wasn't sure that new locomotive type would work. She's too heavy to bang across the furrows with her boiler on board.”
”She'll last until I get my money back, which is all I want. The rope-haulage pattern has its drawbacks, but the machine we're using won't be on the market long. They'll do away with furnace and boiler, and drive by gasoline or oil. I'd thought of trying that, but they haven't got the engine quite right yet.”
”You look ahead,” Devine commented.
”I have to; I must make this farm pay. Now if you'll clear the harrows, I'll tighten these bra.s.ses up.”
He set to work, but while he adjusted the loose bearing Devine announced in a whisper:
”Here's the Colonel!”
Harding saw Mowbray riding toward them, and went on with his task.
Beatrice had no doubt told her mother about his proposal, and he could imagine the Colonel's anger if he had heard of it. Pulling up his horse near the harrows, Mowbray sat silent, watching Harding. Fastidiously neat in dress, with long riding gloves and a spotless gray hat, he formed a marked contrast to the big, greasy man sprinkled with soot from the engine.
”I regret, Mr. Harding, that after the service you did my son, I should come with a complaint when I visit you.”
”We'll let the service go; I'll answer the complaint as far as I can.”
”Very well. I was disagreeably surprised to learn that you have persuaded my friends to take a course which the majority of our council decided against, and to which it is well known that I object.”
Harding felt relieved. Mowbray did not seem to know of what he had said to Beatrice, and his grievance did not require very delicate handling.
Harding was too proud to conciliate him, and as he could expect nothing but uncompromising opposition, he saw no necessity for forbearance.
”The majority was one, a casting vote,” he said. ”If you are referring to my plowing for some of your people, I did not persuade them. They saw the advantage of mechanical traction and asked me to bring the engine over.”
”The explanation doesn't take us far. It's obvious that they couldn't have experimented without your help.”
”I hardly think that's so. There are dealers in Winnipeg and Toronto who would be glad to sell them the machines. If three or four combined, they could keep an engine busy and the cost wouldn't be prohibitive.”
”Our people are not mechanics,” Mowbray said haughtily.
”I'm not sure that's a matter for congratulation,” Harding answered with a smile. ”But I never drove a steam-plow until a few weeks ago, and there seems to be no reason why your friends shouldn't learn. You don't claim that they're less intelligent than I am.”
”Your talents run in this direction,” Mowbray retorted with a polished sneer.
”In a way, that's fortunate. When you're farming for a profit, you want to be able to do a little of everything. Some of the Allenwood boys are pretty good horse-breakers, and you approve; why managing an engine should be objectionable isn't very plain.”
”It is not my intention to argue these matters with you.”
”Then what is it you want me to do?”
”To be content with using these machines on your own land. I must ask you to leave Allenwood alone.”