Part 25 (2/2)
”I'm afraid you ask too much,” Harding replied. ”I can't break off the arrangements now without a loss to your friends and myself, and I see no reason why I should do so.”
”Do you consider it gentlemanly conduct to prompt men who acknowledge me as their leader to thwart my wishes?”
”Hardly so. Where you have a clear right to forbid anything that might be hurtful to the settlement, I'd be sorry to interfere.”
Mowbray's eyes glinted.
”Do you presume to judge between my people and me?”
”Oh, no,” Harding answered with good humor. ”That's not my business; but I reserve the right to do what's likely to pay me, and to make friends with whom I please, whether they belong to Allenwood or not.”
Mowbray was silent a moment, looking down at him with a frown.
”Then there's nothing more to be said. Your only standard seems to be what is profitable.”
Mowbray rode away, and Devine laughed.
”Guess the Colonel isn't used to back talk, Craig. If he wasn't quite so high-toned, he'd go home and throw things about. What he wants is somebody to stand right up to him. You'll have him plumb up against you right along; where you look at a thing one way, he looks at it another.
It's clean impossible that you should agree.”
”I'm afraid that's so,” said Harding. ”And now we'll make a start again.”
The ribbed wheels bit the clods, and the engine lurched clumsily across the furrows, with the harrows clattering as they tore through the tangled gra.s.s roots and scattered the dry soil. Harding was violently shaken, and Devine half smothered by the dust that followed them across the breaking. It was not a dainty task, and the machine was far from picturesque, but they were doing better work than the finest horses at Allenwood were capable of. The sun grew steadily hotter, the lower half of Harding's body was scorched by the furnace, and the perspiration dripped from his forehead upon his greasy overalls, but he held on until noon, with the steam gradually going down. The boiler was of the water-tube type and the water about Allenwood was alkaline.
”She must hold up until supper, and I'll try to wash her out afterward,”
he said.
”You were at it half last night,” Devine objected.
”That's the penalty for using new tools. They have their tricks, and you've got to learn them. I don't find you get much without taking trouble.”
”I believe you're fond of trouble,” Devine answered, laughing.
They went home together, for Devine often dined with the Hardings. They had just finished the meal of salt pork and fried potatoes when there was a rattle of wheels. Hester was putting the dessert--hot cakes soaked in mola.s.ses--and coffee on the table, but she went to the door.
”A stranger in a buggy!” she announced.
Harding was surprised to see the Winnipeg land-agent getting down, but he greeted him hospitably.
”Come in and have some dinner,” he invited.
Davies entered and bowed to Hester.
”No, thanks. As I didn't know where I'd be at noon, I brought some lunch along. But if it won't trouble Miss Harding, I'll take some coffee.”
He sat down and the men lighted their pipes; and Hester studied the newcomer as she removed the plates. He was smartly dressed and had an alert look, but while there was nothing particular in his appearance that she could object to, she was not prepossessed in his favor. Davies had already noticed that the room was of a type common to the prairie homesteads. Its uncovered floor was, perhaps, cleaner than usual when plowing was going on, and the square stove was brightly polished, but the room contained no furniture that was not strictly needed. There was nothing that suggested luxury; and comfort did not seem to be much studied. On the other hand, he had noticed outside signs of bold enterprise and a prosperity he had not expected to find. Davies was a judge of such matters, and he saw that his host was a man of practical ability.
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