Ranching For Sylvia Volume-554 by Harold Bindloss (chrome ebook reader .TXT) 📕

Head Was Driven Under, But When He Got It Clear, Another Dazzling Flash

Revealed A High Bank Only A Few Yards Away, And When Thick Darkness

Followed He Felt The Horse Rise To Its Feet.  Then He Touched Soft

Bottom, And A Little Later Scrambled Up An Almost Precipitous Slope

With The Bridle In His Hand And The Horse Floundering Behind Him.  They

Reached The Summit, And, Stopping Among Thin Timber, It Was With Strong

Relief That He Heard Edgar's Shout.  Shortly Afterward The Lad

Appeared, Leading His Horse.

"There's Some Of The Drove On This Side; I Don't See The Rest," He

Said, Glancing Toward The Opposite Bank, Where Dark Trees Stood Out

Against A Strong Red Glare.

"It Strikes Me We Only Got Across In Time."

Then Torrential Rain Broke Upon Them, And While They Stood, Unable To

Move Forward, A Cry Reached Them Faintly Through The Roar Of The

Deluge.  It Came Again When George Answered, And Was Followed By A

Crackling And Snapping Of Underbrush.  Then, As A Blaze Of Lightning

Filled The Bluff With Radiance, Two Men Appeared For A Moment, Leading

Their Horses Among The Slender Trunks.  They Were Immediately Lost To

Sight Again, But Presently They Came Up, And George Recognized Grant By

His Voice.

"So You Have Got Through, Lansing," He Cried.  "I Met Constable Flett

On The Trail, And, As He Told Me The River Was Rising And There Was A

Big Fire West, I Figured You Must Be Up Against Trouble."

He Asked A Few Questions And Then Resumed:

"As You Got The Stock Started, They'll Have Swum Across; But We Can't

Round Them Up Until It's Light.  There's A Deserted Shack Not Far Off,

And I Guess We'll Head For It."

The Constable Agreed; And, Mounting When They Had Got Out Of The

Timber, They Rode Off Through The Rain.

It Was Nearly Six O'clock In The Evening When George And His

Companions, Who Had Spent Part Of The Day Looking For The Straying

Stock, Rode Up To The Grant Homestead Through A Vast Stretch Of Grain.

This Grew On The Rich Black Soil They Call "Gumbo" In The West; But

Here And There A Belt Of Dark-Colored Summer Fallow Checkered The

Strong Green Of The Wheat And Oats.  Though He Clung To The One-Crop

System, Alan Grant Was Careful Of His Land.  The Fine Brick House And

Range Of Smart Wooden Buildings, The Costly Implements, Which Included

A Gasoline Tractor-Plow, All Indicated Prosperity, And George

Recognized That The Rugged-Faced Man Beside Him Had Made A Marked

Success Of His Farming.

When The Cattle Had Been Secured, Flora Grant Welcomed The New Arrivals

Graciously, And After A While They Sat Down To Supper With The Hired

Men In A Big Room.  It Was Plainly Furnished, But There Was Everything

That Comfort Demanded, For The Happy Mean Between Bareness And

Superfluity Had Been Cleverly Hit, And George Thought Miss Grant Was

Responsible For This.  He Sat Beside Her At The Foot Of The Long Table

And Noticed The Hired Hands' Attitude Toward Her.  It Was Respectful,

But Not Diffident.  The Girl Had No Need To Assert Herself; She Was On

Excellent Terms With The Sturdy Toilers, Who Nevertheless Cheerfully

Submitted To Her Rule.

When The Meal Was Over, Grant Led His Guests Into A Smaller Room, And

Produced A Bag Of Domestic Tobacco.

"The Stock Have Gone Far Enough," He Said.  "You'll Stay Here To-Night."

Flett Looked Doubtful, Though It Was Obvious That He Wished To Remain.

He Was A Young, Brown-Faced Man, And His Smart Khaki Uniform Proclaimed

Him A Trooper Of The Northwest Mounted Police.

"The Trouble Is That I'm A Bit Late On My Round Already," He Protested.

"That's Soon Fixed," Said Grant.

He Opened A Roll-Top Desk, And Wrote A Note Which He Read Out:

"'Constable Flett Has Been Detained In The Neighborhood Of This

Homestead Through Having Rendered, At My Request, Valuable Assistance

In Rounding Up A Bunch Of Cattle, Scattered In Crossing The Flooded

River.'"

"Thanks," Said Flett.  "That Kind Of Thing Counts When They're Choosing

A Corporal."

Grant Turned To George With A Smile.

"Keep In With The Police, Lansing--I've Known A Good Supper Now And

Then Go A Long Way.  They May Worry You About Fireguards And Fencing,

But They'll Stand By You When You're In Trouble, If You Treat Them

Right.  If It's A Matter Of Straying Stock, A Sick Horse, Or You Don't

Know How To Roof A New Barn, You Have Only To Send For The Nearest

Trooper."

"Aren't These Things A Little Outside Their Duties?" Edgar Asked.

The Constable Grinned.

"Most Anything That Wants Doing Badly Is Right In Our Line."

"Sure," Said Grant.  "It's Not Long Since Flett Went Two Hundred Miles

Over The Snow With A Dog-Team To Settle A Little Difference Between An

Indian And His Wife.  Then He Once Brought A Hurt Trapper A Fortnight's

Journey On His Sledge, Sleeping In The Snow, In The Bitterest Weather.

They Were Quite Alone, And The Hurt Man Was Crazy Most Of The Time."

"Then You're Supposed To Look After The Settlers, As Well As To Keep

Order?" Suggested Edgar, Looking Admiringly At The Sturdy Young

Constable.

"That's So," Replied Flett.  "They Certainly Need It.  Last Winter We

Struck One Crowd In A Lonely Shack Up North--Man, Woman, And Several

Children Huddled On The Floor, With Nothing To Eat, And The Stove

Out--At Forty Degrees Below.  There Was A Bluff A Few Miles Off, But

They Hadn't A Tool Of Any Kind To Cut Cordwood With.  Took Us Quite A

While To Haul Them Up Some Stores, Though We Made Twelve-Hour Marches

Between Our Camps In The Snow.  We Had To Hustle That Trip."

He Paused And Resumed:

"Better Keep An Eye On That Bunch Of Young Horses, Mr. Grant; Bring

Them Up Nearer The House When The Nights Get Darker.  Those Clydesdales

Are Mighty Fine Beasts And Prices Are High."

Grant Looked Astonished.

"I've Been Here A Good Many Years, And I've Never Lost A Horse," He

Declared.

"It Doesn't Follow You'll Always Be As Lucky," The Trooper Said

Pointedly.

"I Was Told That Property Is As Safe In The West As It Is In England,"

Edgar Broke In.

"Just So," Remarked The Trooper.  "They Say That Kind Of Thing.  I

Never Was In The Old Country, But Young Mavericks Aren't The Only Stock

To Go Missing In Alberta, Which Isn't A Long Way Off.  The Boys There

Have Their Hands Full Now And Then, And We Have Three Or Four Of The

Worst Toughs I've Struck Right In Sage Butte."

Grant Leaned Forward On The Table, Looking Steadily At Him.

"Hadn't You Better Tell Me What You Have In Your Mind?"

"I Can't Give You Much Information, But We Got A Hint From Regina To

Keep Our Eyes Open, And From Things I've Heard It's My Idea That Now

That The Boys Have Nearly Stopped The Running Of Alberta Cattle Across

The Frontier, Some Of The Toughs They Couldn't Track Mean To Start The

Same Game Farther East.  Some Of You Ranchers Run Stock Outside The

Fences, And I Guess One Could Still Find A Lonely Trail To The American

Border."

"Well," Said Grant, "I'm Glad You Told Me."  He Turned To George.  "Be

Careful, Lansing; You Would Be An Easier Mark."

They Strolled Outside; And After A While George Joined Flora, And

Sauntered Away Across The Grass With Her.  It Was A Clear, Still

Evening, And The Air Was Wonderfully Fresh.

"Though He Wouldn't Let Me Thank Him, I Feel I'm Seriously Indebted To

Your Father, Miss Grant," He Said.  "Our Horses Were Worn Out, And The

Stock Had All Scattered When He Turned Up With The Trooper."

"I Believe He Enjoyed The Ride, And The Night In The Rain," Replied

Flora.  "You See, He Had Once To Work Very Hard Here, And Now That

Things Have Changed, He Finds It Rather Tame.  He Likes To Feel He's

Still Capable Of A Little Exertion."

"I Shouldn't Consider Him An Idle Man."

Flora Laughed.

"That Would Be Very Wrong; But The Need For Continual Effort And The

Strain Of Making Ends Meet, With The Chance Of Being Ruined By A Frozen

Crop, Have Passed.  I Believe He Misses The Excitement Of It."

"Then I Gather That He Built Up This Great Farm?"

"Yes; From A Free Quarter-Section.  He And My Mother Started In A

Two-Roomed Shack.  They Were Both From Ontario, But She Died Several

Years Ago."  The Girl Paused.  "Sometimes I Think She Must Have Had

Remarkable Courage, I Can Remember Her As Always Ready In An Emergency,

Always Tranquil."

George Glanced At Her As She Stood, Finely Posed, Looking Out Across

The Waste Of Grass With Gravely Steady Eyes, And It Occurred To Him

That She Resembled Her Mother In The Respects She Had Mentioned.

Nevertheless, He Felt Inclined To Wonder How She Had Got Her Grace And

Refinement.  Alan Grant Was Forceful And Rather Primitive.

"Have You Spent Much Of Your Time Here?" He Asked.

"No," She Answered.  "My Mother Was Once A School-Teacher, And She Must

Have Had Ambitious Views For Me.  When The Farm Began To Prosper, I Was

Sent To Toronto.  After That I Went To Montreal, And Finally To

England."

"You Must Be Fond Of Traveling."

"Oh," She Said, With Some Reserve, "I Had Thought Of Taking Up A