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

Cheer And, Somewhat To Their Astonishment, The Reeve Of The Town

Advanced To Meet Them.

"I'm Here To Welcome You In The Name Of The Citizens Of The Butte," He

Said.  "We Have To Request The Favor Of Your Company At Supper At The

Queen's."

"It's An Honor," George Responded.  "I'm Sensible Of It; But, You See,

I'm In A Hurry To Get Back To Work And I Wired For A Team.  My Harvest

Should Have Been Started A Week Ago."

"Don't You Worry 'Bout That," Said The Reeve.  "It Wasn't Our Wish That

You Should Suffer Through Discharging Your Duty, And We Made A Few

Arrangements.  Four Binders Have Been Working Steady In Your Oats, And

If You Don't Like The Way We Have Fixed Things, You Can Alter Them

To-Morrow."

Then West Touched George's Arm.

"You'll Have To Come.  They've Got Two Other Victims--Hardie And

Grant--And The Supper's Ready."

The Reeve Looked At Him In Stern Rebuke.

"That Isn't The Way To Speak Of This Function, Percy.  If You Feel Like

A Victim, You Can Drop Right Out."

George Was Touched By The Man's Intimation.  He Expressed His

Satisfaction, And The Whole Assembly Escorted Him To The Hotel.  There

He And Grant And Hardie Were Seated At The Top Of A Long Table Near The

Reeve, Who Made A Short Opening Speech.

"Business First, And Then The Supper, Boys," He Said.  "Corporal Flett

Can't Come; His Bosses Wouldn't Approve Of It; But I'll See It Put In

The Sentinel That He Was Asked, And We Won't Mind If That Has Some

Effect On Them.  There's Another Thing--Out Of Deference To Mr. Hardie

And The Change In Opinion He Has Ably Led--You'll Only Get Tea And

Coffee At This Entertainment.  Those Who Haven't Signed His Book, Must

Hold Out Until It's Over."

An Excellent Meal Had Been Finished When He Got Up Again, With Three

Illuminated Strips Of Parchment In His Hand.

"I'll Be Brief, But There's Something To Be Said.  Our Guests Have Set

Us An Example Which Won't Be Lost.  They Saw The Danger Of Letting

Things Drift; One Of Them Warned Us Plainly, Although To Do So Needed

Grit, And Some Of Us Rounded On Him, And If The Others Didn't Talk, It

Was Because That Wasn't Their End Of The Job.  They Knew Their Duty To

The Country And They Did It, Though It Cost Them Something.  We Owe It

To Them That The Police Have Smashed The Rustler Gang, And That From

Now On No Small Homesteader Can Be Bluffed Or Tempted Into Doing What's

Sure To Bring Him Into Trouble, And No Man With A Big Farm Need Fear To

Let His Cattle Run.  What's More, Instead Of A Haunt Of Toughs And

Hobos, We're Going To Have A Quiet And Prosperous Town.  I'm Now Proud

That It's My Duty To Hand Our Guests The Assurance Of Our Grateful

Appreciation.  Corporal Flett's Will Be Sent On To Him."

He Handed Them The Parchments, And George Felt Inclined To Blush As He

Glanced At The Decorated Words Of Eulogy; While A Half-Ironical Twinkle

Crept Into Grant's Eyes.  Then Hardie Rose To Reply, And Faltered Once

Or Twice With A Sob Of Emotion In His Voice, For The Testimonial Had A

Deeper Significance To Him Than It Had To The Others.  His Audience,

However, Encouraged Him, And There Was A Roar Of Applause When He Sat

Down.  Soon After That The Gathering Broke Up.

George Went To The Parlor, Which Served As Writing-Room, And Found

Flora There.  She Smiled As She Noticed The End Of The Parchment

Sticking Out Of His Pocket.

"I Dare Say You're Relieved That The Ceremony's Over," She Said.

"It Was A Little Trying," George Confessed.  "I Was Badly Afraid I'd

Have To Make A Speech, But Luckily We Had Hardie, Who Was Equal To The

Task."

"After All, You Needn't Be Ashamed Of The Testimonial.  I Really Think

You Deserved It, And I Suppose I Must Congratulate You On The Fortunate

End Of Your Dramatic Adventures."

George Stood Looking At Her.  He Was Somewhat Puzzled, For There Was A

Hint Of Light Mockery In Her Voice.

"I'll Excuse You If You Feel That It Requires An Effort," He Said.

"Oh, You Have Had So Much Applause That Mine Can Hardly Count."

"You Ought To Know That It's My Friends' Good Opinion I Really Value."

Flora Changed The Subject.

"You Will Be Driving Out In The Morning?"

"I'm Starting As Soon As Edgar Has The Team Ready.  There's A Good Moon

And I Must Get To Work The First Thing To-Morrow."

The Girl's Face Hardened.

"You Seem Desperately Anxious About Your Crop."

"I Think That's Natural.  There's A Good Deal To Be Done And I've Lost

Some Time.  I Came In To Write A Note Before I See What Edgar's Doing."

"Then I Mustn't Disturb You, And It's Time I Went Over To Mrs.

Nelson's--She Expects Me To Stay The Night.  I Was Merely Waiting For A

Word With My Father."  She Stopped George, Who Had Meant To Accompany

Her.  "No, You Needn't Come--It's Only A Few Blocks Away.  Get Your

Note Written."

Seeing That She Did Not Desire His Escort, George Let Her Go; But He

Frowned As He Sat Down And Took Out Some Paper.  Soon Afterward Edgar

Came In, And They Drove Off In A Few More Minutes.

"Did You See Miss Grant?" Edgar Asked When They Were Jolting Down The

Rutted Trail.

"I Did," George Said Shortly.

"You Seem Disturbed About It."

"I Was A Little Perplexed," George Owned.  "There Was Something That

Struck Me As Different In Her Manner.  It May Have Been Imagination,

But I Felt She Wasn't Exactly Pleased With Me.  I Can't Understand How

I Have Offended Her."

"No," Said Edgar.  "It Would Have Been Remarkable If You Had Done So.

I Suppose You Told Her You Couldn't Rest Until You Got To Work At The

Harvest?"

"I Believe I Said Something Of The Kind.  What Has That To Do With It?"

"It Isn't Very Obvious.  Perhaps She Felt Tired Or Moody; It Has Been A

Blazing Hot Day.  There's Every Sign Of Its Being The Same To-Morrow.

I Suppose You'll Make A Start After Breakfast?"

"I'll Make A Start As Soon As It's Daylight," George Told Him.

He Kept His Word, And For The Next Few Weeks Toiled With Determined

Energy Among The Tall White Oats And The Coppery Ears Of Wheat.  It Was

Fiercely Hot, But From Sunrise Until The Light Failed, The Plodding

Teams And Clinking Binders Moved Round The Lessening Squares Of Grain,

And Ranks Of Splendid Sheaves Lengthened Fast Behind Them.  The Nights

Were Getting Sharp, The Dawns Were Cold And Clear, And George Rose Each

Morning, Aching In Every Limb, But With A Keen Sense Of Satisfaction.

Each Day's Work Added To The Store Of Money He Would Shortly Hand To

Sylvia.  He Saw Little Of Flora, But When They Met By Chance, As

Happened Once Or Twice, He Was Still Conscious Of Something Subtly

Unfamiliar In Her Manner.  He Felt They Were No Longer On The Old

Confidential Footing; A Stronger Barrier Of Reserve Had Risen Between

Them.

Before The Last Sheaves Were Stacked, The Days Were Growing Cool.  The

Fresh Western Breezes Had Died Away, And A Faint Ethereal Haze And A

Deep Stillness Had Fallen Upon The Prairie.  It Was Rudely Broken When

The Thrashers Arrived And From Early Morning The Clatter Of The Engine

Filled The Air With Sound.  Loaded Wagons Crashed Through The Stubble,

The Voices Of Dusty Men Mingled With The Rustle Of The Sheaves, And A

Long Trail Of Sooty Smoke Stained The Soft Blue Of The Sky.

This Work Was Finished In Turn, And Day By Day The Wagons, Loaded High

With Bags Of Grain, Rolled Slowly Across The Broad White Levels Toward

The Elevators.  Many A Tense Effort Was Needed To Get Them To Their

Destination, For The Trails Were Dry And Loose; But Markets Were

Strong, And George Had Decided To Haul In All The Big Crop.  Sometimes,

Though The Nights Were Frosty, He Slept Beside His Jaded Team In The

Shelter Of A Bluff; Sometimes He Spent A Day He Grudged Laying Straw On

A Road; Rest For More Than Three Or Four Hours Was Unknown To Him, And

Meals Were Snatched At Irregular Intervals When Matters Of More

Importance Were Less Pressing.  For All That, He Was Uniformly

Cheerful; The Work Brought Him The Greatest Pleasure He Had Known, And

He Had Grown Fond Of The Wide, Open Land, In Which He Had Once Looked

Forward To Dwelling With Misgivings.  The Freedom Of Its Vast Spaces,

Its Clear Air And Its Bright Sunshine, Appealed To Him, And He Began To

Realize That He Would Be Sorry To Leave It, Which He Must Shortly Do.

Sylvia, It Was A Pity, Could Not Live In Western Canada.

At Length, On A Frosty Evening, He Saw The Last Load Vanish Into The

Dusty Elevator, And A Curious Feeling Of Regret Crept Over Him.  It Was

Very Doubtful If He Would Haul In Another Harvest, And He Wondered

Whether The Time Would Now And Then Hang Heavily On His Hands In

England.  There Was A Roar Of Machinery Above Him In The Tail Building

That Cut Sharply Against The Sky; Below, Long Rows Of Wagons Stood

Waiting Their Turn, And The Voices Of The Teamsters, Bantering One

Another, Struck Cheerfully On His Ears.  Side-Track And Little Station

Were Bathed In Dazzling Electric Glare, Two Locomotives Were Pushing In

Wheat Cars, And Lights Had Begun To Glimmer In The Wooden Houses Of The

Butte, Though All Round There Was The Vast Sweep Of Prairie.

There Was A Touch Of Rawness In The Picture, A Hint Of Incompleteness,

With A Promise Of Much To Come.  Sage Butte Was, Perhaps, A Trifle

Barbarous; But Its Crude Frame Buildings Would Some Day Give Place To

More Imposing Piles Of Concrete And Steel.  Its Inhabitants Were

Passing Through A Transition Stage, Showing Signs At Times Of The

Primitive Strain, But, As A Rule, Reaching Out Eagerly Toward What Was

New And Better.  They Would Make Swift Progress, And Even Now He Liked

The Strenuous, Optimistic, And Somewhat Rugged Life They Led; He

Reflected That He Would Find Things Different In Sheltered England.