Part 9 (1/2)
Edgar ruefully glanced ahead at scattered pines, clumps of brush, and ridges of gleaming sand.
”It's my opinion there's no end to them! Hauling a load of wheat through this kind of country must be a bit of an undertaking.”
After a short rest, they toiled for an hour through the sand; and then rode slowly over a road thickly strewn with straw, which bore the wheels. It led them across lower ground to a strong wire fence, where it forked: one branch skirting the barrier along the edge of a muskeg, the other running through the enclosed land. Deciding to take the latter, George got down at the entrance, which was barred by several strands of wire, firmly fastened.
”Half an hour's work here,” Edgar commented. ”Driving's rather an arduous pastime in western Canada.”
They crossed a long field of barley, a breadth of wheat, and pa.s.sed an empty house; then wound through a poplar wood until they reached the gra.s.s again. It was long and rank, hiding the ruts and hollows in the trail; but after stopping a while for dinner in the shadow of a bluff, they jolted on, and in the afternoon they reached a smoother track.
Crossing a low rise, they saw a wide stretch of wheat beneath them, with a house and other buildings near its margin.
”That,” said George, ”is Sylvia's farm.”
Half an hour later, they drove through the wheat, at which George glanced dubiously; and then, traversing a belt of light sandy clods partly grown with weeds, they drew up before the house. It was double-storied, roomy, and neatly built of wood; but it was in very bad repair, and the barn and stables had a neglected and half-ruinous look.
Implements and wagons which had suffered from exposure to the weather, stood about outside. Edgar noticed that George's face was grave.
”I am afraid we have our work cut out,” he said. ”We'll put up the team, and then look round the place and see what needs doing first.”
CHAPTER VI
GEORGE GETS TO WORK
It was an oppressive evening, after a day of unusual heat. Edgar sat smoking outside the homestead. He had been busy since six o'clock that morning, and he felt tired and downcast. Ma.s.sed thunder-clouds brooded over the silent prairie, wheat and gra.s.s had faded to dingy green and lifeless gray, and Edgar tried to persuade himself that his moodiness was the effect of the weather. This was partly the case, but he was also suffering from homesickness and a shrinking from what was new and strange.
The wooden house had a dreary, dilapidated look; the weathered, neglected appearance of barns and stables was depressing. It was through a neighboring gap in the fence that Marston's team had brought their lifeless master home; and Edgar had seen enough to realize that the man must have grown slack and nerveless before he had succ.u.mbed.
The farm had broken down Marston's strength and courage, and now another man, less gifted in many ways, had taken it in charge. Edgar wondered how he would succeed; but in spite of a few misgivings he had confidence in George.
After a while the latter, who had been examining Marston's farming books, came out, looking grave; he had worn a serious air since their arrival.
”There'll have to be a change,” he said. ”d.i.c.k's accounts have given me something to think about. I believe I'm beginning to understand now how his money went.”
”I suppose you haven't got the new program cut and dried yet?” Edgar suggested.
George was seldom precipitate.
”No,” he answered. ”I've a few ideas in my mind.”
”Won't you have some trouble about finances, if the alterations are extensive?”
”I'll have to draw on my private account, unless Herbert will a.s.sist.”
”Herbert won't do anything of the kind,” said Edgar decidedly.
George, making no answer, called Grierson from the stable.
”You'll drive in to the settlement after breakfast to-morrow, Tom,” he said. ”Tell the man I'll keep the team, if he'll knock off twenty dollars, and he can have his check when he likes. Then bring out the flour and groceries.”
”I suppose I won't be going in again for a while; we'll be too busy?”