Part 48 (1/2)

”I'm going to do it,” George replied. His grandfather glanced again at his face, so scowling, so determined. And a gleam of compa.s.sion and yearning came for a moment in Roger's eyes. His heavy hand lay on George's knee.

”That's right, son,” he grunted. ”Make the family proud of you. I'll do all I can to help you start. My business is picking up, thank G.o.d, and I'll be able to back you now. I'll stay up here a good part of the summer. We've both of us got a lot to learn--and not only from books--we want to remember we've plenty to learn from the neighbors, too. Take old Dave Royce, for instance, who when all is said and done has worked our farm for twenty odd years and never once run me into debt.”

”But, Gee!” demurred George. ”He's so 'way out of date!”

”I know he is, son, but we've got to go slow.” And Roger's look pa.s.sed furtively along the faces in the car. ”We don't want to forget,” he warned, ”that this is still New England. Every new idea we have we want to go easy with, snake it in.”

”I've got an awful lot of 'em,” the boy muttered hungrily.

At the farm, the next morning at daybreak, Roger was awakened by the sound of George's voice. It was just beneath his window:

”But cattle are only part of it, Dave,” the boy declared, in earnest tones, ”just part of what we can have up here. Think what we've got--over three hundred acres! And we want to make every acre count! We want to get in a whole lot more of hogs--Belted Hamps.h.i.+res, if we can afford 'em--and a couple of hundred hens. White Leghorns ought to fill the bill. Of course that's just a starter. I've got a scheme for some incubators--electric--run by the dynamo which we'll put in down by the dam. And we can do wonders with bees, too, Dave--I've got a book on 'em I'd like you to read. And besides, there's big money in squab these days. Rich women in New York hotels eat thousands of 'em every night. And ducks, of course, and turkeys.

I'd like a white gobbler right at the start, if we knew where we could get one cheap.” The voice broke off and there was a pause. ”We can do an awful lot with this place.”

Then Dave's deep drawl:

”That's so, George--yes, I guess that's so. Only we don't want to fool ourselves. That ain't Noah's Ark over thar--it's a barn. And just for a starter, if I was you--” Here Dave deliberated. ”Of course it's none of my business,” he said, ”it's for you and your grandfather to decide--and I don't propose to interfere in what ain't any of my affair--”

”Yes, yes, Dave, sure! That's all right! But go on! _What_, just for a starter?”

”Cows,” came the tranquil answer. ”I've been hunting around since you wrut me last month. And I know of three good milkers--”

”Three? Why, Dave, I wrote we want thirty or forty!”

”Yes--you wrut,” Dave answered. ”But I've druv all around these parts--and there ain't but three that I can find. And I ain't so sure of that third one. She looks like she might--” George cut in.

”But you only had a buggy, Dave! Gee! I'm going to have a Ford!”

”That so, George?”

”You bet it's so! And we'll go on a cow hunt all over the State!”

”Well--I dunno but what you're right,” Dave responded cautiously. ”You might get more cows if you had a Ford--an' got so you could run it. Yes, I guess it's a pretty good scheme. I believe in being conservative, George--but I dunno now but what a Ford--”

Their voices pa.s.sed from under the window, and Roger relaxed and smiled to himself. It was a good beginning, he thought.

They bought a Ford soon afterwards and in the next few weeks of June they searched the farms for miles around, slowly adding to their herd. To Roger's surprise he found many signs of a new life stirring there--the farmers buying ”autos” and improved machinery, thinking of new processes; and down in the lower valleys they found several big stock farms which were decidedly modern affairs. At one such place, the man in charge took a fancy to George and asked him to drop over often.

”You bet I'll drop over often!” George replied, as he climbed excitedly into his Ford. ”I want to see more of those milking machines! We're going to have 'em some day ourselves! A dynamo too!”

And at home, down by the ruined mill he again set about rebuilding the dam.

Roger felt himself growing stronger. His sleeps were sound, and his appet.i.te had come back to a surprising degree. The mountain air had got into his blood and George's warm vigor into his soul. One afternoon, watching the herd come home, some thirty huge animals swinging along with a slow heavy power in their limbs, he breathed the strong sweet scent of them on the mountain breeze. George came running by them and stopped a moment by Roger's side, watching closely and eagerly every animal as it pa.s.sed. And Roger glanced at George's face. The herd pa.s.sed on and George followed behind, his collie dog leaping and barking beside him. And Roger looked up at a billowy cloud resting on a mountain top and wondered whether after all that New York doctor had been right.

He followed the herd into the barn. In two long rows, the great heads of the cattle turned hungrily, lowing and sniffing deep, breathing harshly, stamping, as the fodder cart came down the lines. What a splendidly wholesome work for a lad, growing up with his roots in the soil, in these ma.s.sive simple forces of life. What of Edith's other children? Would they be willing to stay here long? Each morning Roger breakfasted with Bruce the baby by his side. ”What a thing for you, little lad,” he thought, ”if you could live here all your days. But will you? Will you want to stay? Won't you, too, get the fever, as I did, for the city?” In the joyous, s.h.i.+ning, mysterious eyes of the baby he found no reply. He had many long talks with Betsy, who was eager to go away to school, and with Bob and little Tad who were going to school in the village that fall. And the feeling came to Roger that surely he would see these lives, at least for many years ahead.

They were so familiar and so real, so fresh and filled with hopes and dreams. And he felt himself so a part of them all.