Part 21 (1/2)
MacDuff is tired, I know, and there are some things I want to get straightened out before we go down home.”
The next afternoon while Jack searched the ranch for his scattered possessions and tried in vain to stow them all away in his trunk, while three crestfallen girls packed at the Hunter ranch, Carver, fresh from an interview with Mr. Keith, sat down to write his father. The letter, received four days later in place of its author by the Standish family, brought surprise and consternation in its wake.
”I simply can't understand it,” said Mrs. Carver Standish II, on the verge of hysterical tears. ”I've never known him to do such a thing before.
There's Ruth Sherman's house-party coming off, and the St. Clair wedding, and the tennis tournament, and our trip to the Adirondacks--and everything! Whatever shall I tell people who inquire? There's something wrong with him, Carver! I never did want him to go to that place, anyway.
You'd better wire!”
”I can't see but that it's plain enough,” said his father. ”He simply prefers thres.h.i.+ng on a Wyoming ranch to a house-party or a wedding or a tennis tournament or the Adirondacks. Let him alone. Maybe a little work won't hurt him.”
”Hurt him!” cried a certain gray-haired old gentleman, slapping his knees.
”Hurt him! It'll be the best thing that ever happened to him, in _my_ opinion! Work, and being with that little girl out there!”
”And I did so want Mrs. Van Arsdale to see him!” continued his mother.
”I'd planned all sorts of things for September. Read the letter again, Carver.”
Mr. Carver Standish II read the letter. It was brief and to the point.
”'DEAR DAD:
”'I'm not coming home till school opens. I'm going to stay out here and help thresh. Mr. Keith is short on hands, and he says I'll do. I wanted to help for nothing, they've all been so good to me--but he says I mustn't. You needn't send me any money, because I'm going to be earning two dollars a day, and maybe three if I'm any good. Please don't let Mother object. It won't do any good anyhow, because I've already signed a contract to stay. Mr. Keith didn't want to draw it up, but I insisted. He does it with the other men, and I'm no better than the rest.
”'I've got a great scheme about bringing the business West when I'm through college. It sure is some country out here! Love to Grandfather.
”'CARVER.'”
That Carver Standish III preferred thres.h.i.+ng on a Wyoming ranch to a house-party was the subject of conversation at every social affair for a week and more. Poor Mrs. Carver Standish II found explanations most difficult.
”Carver's so in love with the country and riding and all that he just won't come back,” she said.
But Carver's grandfather, the old Colonel, found no such difficulty.
”My grandson,” he said, his fine head thrown back, and his blue eyes glowing with pride, ”my grandson is discovering the dignity of labor on a Wyoming ranch!”
CHAPTER XX
COMRADES
Wyoming, to be appreciated, should be explored on horseback and not viewed from the observation platform of a limited train. Barren stretches of sagebrush and cactus, and grim, ugly b.u.t.tes guard too well the secret that golden wheat-fields lie beyond them; the rugged, far-away mountains never tell that their canyon-cut sides are clothed with timber and carpeted with a thousand flowers; and tired, dusty travelers, quite unaware of these things, find themselves actually longing for Nebraska to break the monotony!
The half-dozen weary persons who on the afternoon of September 6th sat on the observation platform of the Puget Sound Limited, together with the scores who peered from its windows in vain search of something besides sagebrush, were no exception to the rule. To a man, they were all giving fervent thanks that Fate had cast their lots in California or New England or, at the worst, Iowa. The a.s.surances of the brakeman, who was loquacious beyond his kind, that once past Elk Creek they would strike a better country brought some much-needed cheerfulness; and Elk Creek itself afforded such amus.e.m.e.nt and entertainment that they really began to have a better impression of Wyoming. Apparently, there were civilized persons even in so desolate an environment as this!
The sources of their entertainment, for they were several, stood on the little station platform at Elk Creek. The central figure was a tall, middle-aged man, whose hands were filled with trunk checks and tickets, and to whom three very excited girls were saying good-by all at the same time. Three boys, two in khaki and one in traveling clothes, were shaking hands heartily; a fresh-faced young woman with marigolds at her waist stood a little apart from the others and talked earnestly with a tall young man; and a hatless, brown-haired girl in a riding suit seemed to be everywhere at once.
”Oh, I can't bear to think it's all over!” the interested travelers heard her say, as she embraced the three girls in turn. ”It's been absolutely the most perfect six weeks I've ever, ever known. Don't lose your quirt, Vivian! And don't leave Allan's knife around, Mary. It isn't fair to tempt even a porter. You'll write from every large place, won't you, Priscilla?”
In spite of an amused and impatient conductor, the last-named girl turned back for a last hug. Her hat was askew, her brown hair disheveled, and her brown eyes full of tears, which were coursing freely down her cheeks.