The Homesteaders

by Stead, Robert J C

  Riles met them on the station platform. He had met every train for a week, as it had been agreed that it would be better that the Harrises should not visit Gardiner's ranch until plans were more fully developed. Jim was still there, and Gardiner insisted that Jim should not meet Harris at present. He allowed Riles to think that he feared trouble if former employer and employee should meet; as a matter of fact, he feared that if their coal mine proposition should reach the ears of Travers the young man would attempt to dissuade Harris from having anything to do with it, or at least would urge a fuller investigation than might be desirable. Besides, he meant to make of Travers an unwitting party to the affair.

  Riles, in overalls and shirt-sleeves, leaned against the iron rail at the back of the station platform, his big hands stuffed in the bulging band of his trousers, and his under-jaw busy with an ample ration of tobacco. He watched the passengers alighting from the train with little interest; he had no particular expectations of meeting Harris on this occasion, and, if the truth be told, he had little desire to meet him. Riles had no pangs of conscience over his part in the plot against his old neighbour, but he had an uneasy feeling of cowardice. When suddenly his eye fell on Harris and his big, strapping son, his first impulse was to slip away in the crowd before they should notice him. But it was only for a moment; the next, Harris was calling, "'Lo, Hiram," and the two were shaking hands as old friends met in a far country.

  "Didja get my letter?" asked Riles, ignoring the commonplaces with which it was their custom to introduce any important topic. "Didja sell the farm?"

  "I got the letter, Hiram, but I didn't sell the farm. Thought we'd just have a look over this coal mine before goin' into the business altogether."

  "H-s-h. Throttle your voice down. This place is full of men on the look-out for somethin' like that, an' you can't keep it too dark until it's all settled."

  "Well, ain't we going to put up somewhere?" said Allan, breaking the silence that followed Riles' warning. "There ought to be an Alberta hotel here, somewhere. I saw one in every town for the last two hundred miles."

  "I got that beat," said Riles, with a snicker. "Boardin' on a lord, or duke, or somethin'."

  "Don't say?"

  "Yeh. You mind Gard'ner? Him 'at lit out from Plainville after that stealin' affair?"

  "The one you got credit for bein' mixed up in?" said Allan, with disconcerting frankness. "A lame kind of a lord he'd make. What about him?"

  "Well, he struck a soft thing out here, fo' sure. This lord I'm tellin' you about's gone off home over some bloomin' estate or other, an' Gard'ner's runnin' his ranch—his 'bloody-well rawnch' he calls it. Gets a good fat wad for ridin' round, an' hires a man to do the work. But it was Gard'ner put me on t' this coal mine deal."

  "Let's get settled first, and we'll talk about Gardiner and the mine afterwards," said Harris, and they joined the throng that was now wending its way to the hotels.

  "How's your thirst, Hiram?" inquired Harris, after he had registered.

  "Pretty sticky," confessed Riles. "But they soak you a quarter to wash it out here."

  "Well, I got a quarter."

  "A quarter apiece, I mean."

  "Well, I got a quarter apiece," said Harris. "Come on."

  Riles followed, astonishment over Harris's sudden liberality, and misgiving as to how he himself could avoid a similar expenditure, struggling for uppermost place in his mind.

  "Pretty strong stuff they have here," he said, after Harris and Allan had "set 'er up" in turn. "Keel you over if you don't watch it."

  "Does taste kind o' snakey," said Harris. "Guess that's enough for this time. Now come upstairs and tell us all about this deal you have on."

  When the travellers had thrown off their coats and vests, and all were seated in the little bedroom, Riles cleared his throat.

  "Well, there ain't much t' tell yuh, more'n I said in m' letter," he started. "As I said, it's Gard'ner you'll have t' thank for this thing, good or bad. I ain't a coal miner, an' I told him that, an' I told him you wasn't neither, but he says that don't make no difference. He says there's all kinds o' money in it, an' I reckon that's what we came out here for, ain't it?"

  "Yes, provided the tiling's sound," said Harris. "Anyone can see with half an eye that there's easier ways of makin' money than bustin' up this prairie sod for it. But you and me've worked hard for what we've got, Hiram, and we want t' go mighty careful about spendin' it."

  "I suppose you've sent home word to sell your farm, have you?" put in

  Allan. "You'll be chipping in at the same time?"

  "Oh, yes, I'll be chippin' in. Of course. But I didn't just say to sell the farm yet. I'll have t' get back an' straighten things up some first. You see, I thought you'd get my letter before you left, an' you could kind o' make your deal then, an' your payment would hold the bargain bound until I could sell mine, y' see, Harris?" Riles was beginning to address himself mainly to the older man.

  "Don't take me up wrong," said Allan. "I'm in on this along with Dad, if he's in; an' if he's out, I'm out. But I was just kind o' curious about it."

  "It's all right, it's all right," assured Riles, with great magnanimity. Inwardly he was cursing Gardiner for having left this task to him. He was suspicious of a trap in the simplest question, and feared that any minute he might find himself floundering in a mesh of contradictions.

  "Where is this coal mine, and who's got it?" said Harris.

  "I ain't saw it myself," admitted Riles. "They're awful p'tic'lar about lettin' people see it," he continued, with a sudden flash of inspiration. "It's so valu'ble, y' know."

  "'Fraid somebody'll bring it home in their pocket, I suppose," said

  Allan.

  Riles pretended to laugh heartily.

  "But where is it?" insisted Harris. "Is there a railroad near, or how do you get at it?"

  "It's up in the mountains, an' that's all I can tell you; but it's all right, an' there's a pile o' money in it. I guess I better bring Gard'ner down in the morning, an' he'll explain all about it. Y' see, he knows the fellow 'at owns it, an' I don't, an' he'll be able to tell you. That is, if you're goin' in on it. Gard'ner won't say much unless he knows you're goin' in on it."

  "Well, he'll have to say a good deal before he knows," said Harris. "I ain't buyin' a pig in a poke. He's got t' show me, and then if it's all right, why, it's all right."

  "Oh, it's all right," said Riles, although inwardly he felt little enthusiasm over the attitude of either father or son. He was annoyed that Allan should be present. On the whole, it would be better to leave the rest of the explaining to Gardiner.

  "What d'ye think of it, Dad?" said Allan, when Riles was gone.

  "Maybe all right," said Harris. "Wouldn't be surprised but it is. At the same time, I ain't goin' to put a cent in it till I'm dead sure. And anyway, there's no use lettin' Riles think we're keen on it."

  "That's what I think. You think Gardiner's all square in it?"

  "I don't know. Likely he's getting a fat commission from somewhere, but that's fair enough, if he makes the deal. But he won't see any o' our money till I have the opinion of the best lawyer in town. That's all we can say till we see it."

  "That seems safe," Allan agreed. "Just the same, I think there's lots more chances to use our money to advantage here than down in Manitoba, don't you?"

  "Yes, I think there is. You see, this is a new country, and everything on the jump. Think how much we could 'a' made in Manitoba in the early days if we had the money and knew where t' put it. Well, out here they've got the benefit of our experience, an' they'll do as much here in five years as we did in twenty-five. We had t' make the money t' develop our country—had t' make it right at home on our farms, an' that's slow. But here the money's rollin' in from outside."

  "What d'ye say if we sell the old farm anyway, and then if this mine business don't look good, we'll plunk it into farm land?"

  "Might do worse," his father agreed. "We'll have a look round for a day or two, anyway
."

  The next morning they began a round of the real estate offices. Great activity prevailed everywhere, and dealers seemed to have hardly time to give them attention. In one little box of a place they mentioned that they might be on the market for say a couple of thousand acres.

  "Think I can fix you up all right," said the proprietor; "and there's one sure thing, you can't put your money anywhere where it's safer or 'll grow faster. Why—"

  At that moment a man in a pepper-and-salt suit went by the door.

  "'Scuse me a minute," said the dealer, rushing to the door and sending a shrill whistle down the street. The man in the pepper-and-salt turned, and the dealer beckoned him into the little office.

  "You know that five-thousand-acre block you bought last week," he said in a low voice, but loud enough to be heard by the Harrises. "Bought it at six dollars, didn't you? Well, I can give you seven to-day, for a quick sale."

  "Couldn't think of it, my dear fellow," protested the lucky buyer. "I simply couldn't think of it."

  "Couldn't think of making five thousand dollars in a week? It don't look too bad to a working man like me."

  "But it's nowhere near the value of the land. Why, they're selling stuff in Illinois today that ain't to be compared with it at a hundred and fifty dollars an acre. It's only a question of time until this is as much. You've got better land here, and better climate, and you're a thousand miles nearer the Pacific Ocean, that's going to carry the commerce of the future. Seven dollars? It's an insult to Canada to mention such a price."

  "Well, say," continued the real estate man, in a still more confidential tone, "I was allowing myself a little margin on the deal, even at seven dollars. But I had a man in here a few minutes ago that'll buy that block at eight-fifty. I'll pay you eight dollars net to put it through."

  "Sorry, but he'll have to get down deeper than that if he wants it. Tell him I might consider ten dollars, but mind, I ain't making any promise." And the man in the pepper-and-salt suit continued his course down the street, just the same as if he were not making five thousand dollars a week.

  "Big capitalist from New York, that fellow," explained the dealer.

  "Simply coining money up here, and always salting it into more land."

  The incident left a deep impression on the Harrises. They did not know, of course, that the man in the pepper-and-salt suit always went by the door when likely-looking strangers were in, and that he always refused a profit of ten thousand dollars as a matter of little consequence—except for its influence on the unsuspecting party of the third part.

  CHAPTER XV

  THE LURE OF EASY MONEY

  In the afternoon Gardiner and Riles drove into town and met the Harrises in the waiting-room of the hotel. Gardiner's greeting was friendly, but not over-familiar, as became a man who had recently suffered some reflection on his character. He shook Harris and Allan by the hand, inquired after the cattle and the crops, but discreetly avoided family matters, having learned from Riles that all had not been going smoothly in their domestic affairs. Gardiner knew a little room at the back of the bar, to which he escorted his guests. Having ordered a bottle and glasses on the table, he turned the key in the door.

  "You can't be too careful," he explained. "You know, the walls have ears, and if it gets out that this coal mine can be picked up at the price we have on it, it will be taken before night. I understand your money is not here yet, Mr. Harris?"

  "No. Not started, I guess. The fact is, I haven't sold the farm."

  "Well, I don't want to hurry you, but we've got to act quickly, or not at all. Of course, we don't figure on taking any chances. Our idea is to turn the property over at once, at a good profit. That's the way you feel about it too, isn't it?"

  "I'm not a coal miner."

  "Exactly. Neither are the men who own most of the mines of this country. There comes a time, Mr. Harris, when we realize that we don't have to get down with pick and shovel to make ourselves some money—in fact, the man with pick and shovel hasn't time to make any real money. I am glad you feel like I do about it, for I have already taken the liberty of putting the proposition up to a New York syndicate."

  "You mean if we don't come through, they will?"

  "No, I mean that we'll come through—and they'll come after us. My idea is not to take any chances, but to sell the property, or as good as sell it, before we buy it. So I sent a Government report on it to this syndicate, as I heard they were looking out for coal lands in the West, and I just took the liberty of offering it to them for a cool quarter of a million, and gave them until to-night to accept or refuse, by wire. I'm a little anxious for an answer, although if they don't take it others will. You see, the old fellow that owns it simply hasn't any idea what it's worth. He has lived in the hills until he looks like one of 'em, and a satchelful of money in real bills will simply dazzle him. A cheque wouldn't serve the purpose; he'd be suspicious of it, and he'd come down to investigate, and someone would be sure to crimp our deal."

  "But what is your plan for the deal, Mr. Gardiner?" asked Harris. "We can't go into the mountains with a load of bills and buy a mine like a man might buy a steer. There'll have to be papers, titles, and such things, I suppose, to make it right with us and with the Government."

  "Of course," Gardiner agreed. "We will take the money with us, but we won't give it to him until we get the papers. We'll just let him see it—nibble it a little, if you like—and then we'll lead him into town with it, like you lead a horse with oats. The sight of so much money will keep him coming our way when nothing else would. And we'll slip him a hundred or two, and get a little receipt for it, just to prevent him changing his mind if he should be so disposed."

  "And suppose I don't like the look of the mine when I see it?"

  "Then you bring your money back down with you and put it into farm lands, or anything else that takes your fancy. After you look it over, if you don't want to go in on it, Mr. Harris, perhaps Riles and I can raise enough ourselves to swing the deal, but you see we thought of you from the first, and we will stay with our original plan until you have a chance to decide one way or another."

  "Well, that sounds fair," said Allan, and his father nodded. "But we haven't sold the farm, and until we do I guess there isn't much money in sight."

  "Bradshaw'll sell the farm quick enough if I send him word," his father assured him. "He may not get it all in money, but he'll get a good part of it, and he has ways o' raisin' the balance so long's the security is good. I've half a mind t' wire him t' close 'er out."

  At this moment there came a knock on the door, and a boy presented a telegram for Gardiner. He opened it, read it, and emitted a whoop like a wild Indian. "They're coming through," he shouted, "coming through! How does half of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars look to you, Mr. Harris?"

  Harris reached out eagerly for the telegram, while Allan, his arm thrown over his father's shoulder, read it in boyish excitement:

  "If investigation confirms Government reports we will pay two hundred fifty thousand. Our representative leaves at once for personal interview."

  The name at the end of the telegram was unknown to either Harris or his son, but Gardiner assured them it was one to conjure with in the financial world. Riles' excitement was scarcely less than Allan's. Gardiner choked a flood of questions on his lips with a quick imperative glance. Even Riles did not know that the telegram had been written a few doors down the street by a stoutish man in a pepper-and-salt suit.

  "I'll take a chance," said Harris, at last. "I'll take a chance."

  "Chance nothing!" interjected Gardiner, with momentary abruptness. "It was a chance a minute ago; it's a certainty now. It's the cinch of a lifetime."

  "Where's some paper?" asked Allan. "Let's get a telegram away right off."

  Gardiner produced a notebook and, at Harris's dictation, drafted a telegram to Bradshaw, directing him to dispose of the farm at once along the lines of the instructions already given him. He was to cash the agreement
and wire the proceeds to Harris.

  Then followed long anxious days. Fortune seemed to hang on Bradshaw's success in making an immediate sale of the farm. It was a large order, and yet Harris felt confident a buyer would be found. The price asked was not unreasonable, especially when it was remembered that the crop would go to the purchaser, and was now almost ready for the binder. Bradshaw was in constant touch with well-to-do farmers from the South who were on the look-out for land, and his own banking facilities would enable him to forward the cash as soon as a sale was assured, without waiting for actual payment by the purchaser. So Harris was confident in the midst of his anxiety.

  A gentleman's agreement had been made with Gardiner and Riles that not a word was to be said concerning their investment until it was a completed fact. Gardiner dropped in occasionally to learn if any word had come from Plainville, but it was not until the afternoon of the fourth day that the fateful yellow envelope was handed in at the hotel. As it happened, Gardiner and Riles were present at the moment. They slipped into the back room and waited in a fever of expectation for Harris to announce the contents.

  Harris and Allan read the message twice before speaking; then Allan repeated it aloud:

  "Twenty thousand dollars proceeds sale goes forward by wire your bank. Correspondence follows. Will explain failure to get price asked.

  "BRADSHAW."

  Harris was torn between emotions, and his face worked with unwonted nervousness as he struggled with them. That Bradshaw should have sold the farm for half the price he had stipulated seemed incredible. It was robbery; it was a breach of trust of the most despicable nature. On the other hand, if the amount available would enable them to buy the mine, the huge profit assured from that investment would much more than offset the loss on the farm. Gardiner and Riles, too, were visibly downcast when they heard the amount, but Gardiner promptly grappled with the situation.