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

Pushed Through The Thin Wood Of Dwarf Birch And Poplar, Skirting Little

Pools From Which Mallard Rose: And Then, Crossing A Long Rise, They Sat

Down To Smoke On Its Farther Side.  Sage Butte Had Disappeared, The Sun

Had Dipped, And The Air Was Growing Wonderfully Fresh And Cool.  Here

And There A House Or Barn Rose From The Sweep Of Grass; But For The

Most Part It Ran Back Into The Distance Lonely And Empty.  It Was

Steeped In Strong, Cold Coloring, But On Its Western Rim There Burned A

Vivid Flush Of Rose And Saffron.  Edgar Was Impressed By Its Vastness

And Silence.

"This," He Said Thoughtfully, "Makes Up For A Good Deal.  Once You Get

Clear Of The Railroad, It's A Captivating Country."

"Have You Decided Yet What You're Going To Do In It?"

"It's Too Soon," Edgar Rejoined.  "The Family Idea Was That I Should

Stay About Twelve Months, And Then Go Back And Enter Some Profession.

Ethel Seems Quite Convinced That A Little Roughing It Will Prove

Beneficial.  I Might, However, Stop Out And Try Farming, Which Is One

Reason Why You Can Have My Services For Nothing For A Time.

Considering What Local Wages Are, Don't You Think You're Lucky?"

"That," Laughed George, "Remains To Be Seen."

"Anyhow, There's No Doubt That Sylvia Marston Scores In Securing You On

The Same Favorable Terms.  It Has Struck Me That She's A Woman Who Gets

Things Easily."

"She Hasn't Always Done So.  Can You Imagine, For Instance, What Two

Years On A Prairie Farm Must Have Been To A Delicate, Fastidious Girl,

Brought Up In Luxury?"

"I've An Idea That Sylvia Would Manage To Avoid A Good Many Of The

Hardships."

"Sylvia Would Never Shirk A Duty," George Declared Firmly.

Edgar Refilled His Pipe.

"I've Been Thinking About Dick Marston," He Said.  "After The Way He

Was Generally Regarded At Home, It Was Strange To Hear That Canadian's

Opinions; But I've A Notion That This Country's A Pretty Severe

Touchstone.  I Mean That The Sort Of Qualities That Make One Popular In

England May Not Prove Of Much Use Here."

"Dick Lost His Crop; That Accounts For A Good Deal," George Said

Shortly.

Edgar, Knowing How Staunch He Was To His Friends, Changed The Subject;

And When The Light Grew Dim They Went Back To The Hotel.  Breakfasting

Soon After Six The Next Morning, They Took Their Places In A Light,

Four-Wheeled Vehicle, For Which Three Persons' Baggage Made A Rather

Heavy Load, And Drove Away With The Hired Man.  The Grass Was Wet With

Dew, The Air Invigoratingly Cool, And For A Time The Fresh Team Carried

Them Across The Waste At An Excellent Pace.  When He Had Got Used To

The Frantic Jolting, Edgar Found The Drive Exhilarating.  Poplar

Bluffs, Little Ponds, A Lake Shining Amid Tall Sedges, Belts Of

Darkgreen Wheat, Went By; And While The Horses Plunged Through Tall

Barley-Grass Or Hauled The Vehicle Over Clods And Ruts, The Same Vast

Prospect Stretched Away Ahead.  It Filled The Lad With A Curious Sense

Of Freedom: There Was No Limit To The Prairies--One Could Go On And On,

Across Still Wider Stretches Beyond The Horizon.

By And By, However, They Ran In Among Low Sandy Hills, Dotted With

Dwarf Pines Here And There, And The Pace Slackened.  The Grass Was

Thin, The Wheels Sank In Deep, Loose Sand, And The Sun Was Getting

Unpleasantly Hot.  For Half An Hour They Drove On; And Then The Team

Came To A Standstill, Necked With Spume, At The Foot Of A Short, Steep

Rise.  Edgar Alighted And Found The Heat Almost Insupportable.  There

Was Glaring Sand All About Him, And The Breeze Which Swept The Prairie

Was Cut Off By The Hill In Front.

"You'll Have To Help The Team," George Told Him, As He Went To The

Horses' Heads.

Edgar And The Hired Man Each Seized A Wheel And Endeavored To Start The

Vehicle, While The Horses Plunged In The Slipping Sand.  They Made A

Few Yards, With Clouds Of Grit Flying Up About Them, And Afterward Came

To A Stop Again.  Next They Tried Pushing; And After Several Rests They

Arrived, Breathless And Gasping, At The Crest Of The Rise.  There Was A

Big Hollow In Front, And On The Opposite Side A Ridge Which Looked

Steeper Than The Last One.

"How Much Do You Think There Is Of This?" Edgar Inquired.

"I Can't Say," George Answered.  "I Know Of One Belt That Runs For

Forty Miles."

Even Walking Downhill Was Laborious, For They Sank Ankle-Deep, But It

Was Very Much Worse When They Faced The Ascent.  Short As The Hill Was,

It Took Them Some Time To Climb; And, With The Hired Man's Assistance,

Edgar Carried A Heavy Trunk Up The Last Part Of It.  Then He Sat Down.

"I'm Not Sure I Can Smoke, But I Intend To Try," He Said.  "If You Mean

To Rush The Next Hill Right Off, You Will Go Without Me."  He Turned To

The Hired Man.  "What Do You Think Of These Roads, Grierson?"

"I've Seen Better, Sir," The Other Answered Cautiously.  "Perhaps The

Hills Don't Go On Very Far."

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 Passed An

Empty House; Then Wound Through A Poplar Wood Until They Reached The

Grass 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."

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.  Massed Thunder-Clouds Brooded

Over The Silent Prairie, Wheat And Grass 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 Succumbed.

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.  "Dick'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 Assist."

"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