Part 51 (2/2)
Billy swung his pack from his shoulders to the ground, and Saxon rested her telescope basket.
”Peddlin'?” the young man asked, too discreet to put his question directly to Saxon, yet dividing it between her and Billy, and c.o.c.king his eye at the covered basket.
”No,” she spoke up quickly. ”We're looking for land. Do you know of any around here?”
Again he desisted from the egg, studying them with sharp eyes as if to fathom their financial status.
”Do you know what land sells for around here?” he asked.
”No,” Saxon answered. ”Do you?”
”I guess I ought to. I was born here. And land like this all around you runs at from two to three hundred to four an' five hundred dollars an acre.”
”Whew!” Billy whistled. ”I guess we don't want none of it.”
”But what makes it that high? Town lots?” Saxon wanted to know.
”Nope. The Porchugeeze make it that high, I guess.”
”I thought it was pretty good land that fetched a hundred an acre,”
Billy said.
”Oh, them times is past. They used to give away land once, an' if you was good, throw in all the cattle runnin' on it.”
”How about government land around here?” was Billy'a next query.
”Ain't none, an' never was. This was old Mexican grants. My grandfather bought sixteen hundred of the best acres around here for fifteen hundred dollars--five hundred down an' the balance in five years without interest. But that was in the early days. He come West in '48, tryin' to find a country without chills an' fever.”
”He found it all right,” said Billy.
”You bet he did. An' if him an' father 'd held onto the land it'd been better than a gold mine, an' I wouldn't be workin' for a livin'. What's your business?”
”Teamster.”
”Ben in the strike in Oakland?”
”Sure thing. I've teamed there most of my life.”
Here the two men wandered off into a discussion of union affairs and the strike situation; but Saxon refused to be balked, and brought back the talk to the land.
”How was it the Portuguese ran up the price of land?” she asked.
The young fellow broke away from union matters with an effort, and for a moment regarded her with lack l.u.s.ter eyes, until the question sank into his consciousness.
”Because they worked the land overtime. Because they worked mornin', noon, an' night, all hands, women an' kids. Because they could get more out of twenty acres than we could out of a hundred an' sixty. Look at old Silva--Antonio Silva. I've known him ever since I was a shaver.
He didn't have the price of a square meal when he hit this section and begun leasin' land from my folks. Look at him now--worth two hundred an' fifty thousan' cold, an' I bet he's got credit for a million, an'
there's no tellin' what the rest of his family owns.”
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