Harold Bindloss

“ Bland said that the man who had driven him from the station was waiting in the neighboring village, and when they left the house he walked on with Sylvia, leaving Mrs. Lansing and West to follow. It was a clear night, with a chill of frost in the air. A bright half-moon hung above the shadowy hills, and the higher boughs of the bare trees cut in sharp tracery against the sky. Dead leaves lay thick upon the road and here and there a belt of mist trailed across a meadow. Sylvia, however, did not respond when her companion said something about the charm of the walk. ”

“ 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. ”

“ A week passed, each day growing brighter and hotter, until the glare flung back by sandy soil and whitening grass became painful, and George and his assistants discarded most of their clothing when they went about their tasks. The oats began to show a silvery gleam as they swayed in the strong light; the wheat was changing color, and there were warm coppery gleams among the heavy ears; horses and cattle sought the poplars' shade. Then one evening when the Grants had driven over, Flett arrived at the homestead, and, sitting on the stoop as the air grew cooler, related his adventures. ”

“ They rode a little more slowly; but when the rattle of wheels and thud of hoofs grew sharply distinct in another lull, the man struck his horse.
"They've heard us!" he cried. "We've got to run them down!"
George urged his beast, and there was a crackle of brush about him as the black trees streamed past. The thrill of the pursuit possessed him; after weeks of patient labor, he felt the exhilaration of the wild night ride. The trail, he knew, was riddled here and there with gopher holes and partly grown with brush that might bring his horse down, but this did not count. ”

“ CHAPTER XX A BLIZZARD A bitter wind searched the poplar bluff where George and his hired man, Grierson, were cutting fuel. Except in the river valleys, trees of any size are scarce on the prairie, but the slender trunks and leafless branches were closely massed and afforded a little shelter. Outside on the open waste, the cold was almost too severe to face, and George once or twice glanced anxiously across the snowy levels, looking for some sign of Edgar, who should have joined them with the team and sledge. It was, however, difficult to see far, because a gray dimness narrowed in the horizon. ”

“ Awakening at sunrise George found that, except for the horses, there was not a beast in sight. For an hour he and West hunted them through the bluff; and then, after making a hurried breakfast, they went on their way again. It rapidly got hotter, the stock traveled quietly, and, with a halt or two where a clump of poplars offered a little shade, they rode, scorched by dazzling sunshine, across the limitless plain. In the afternoon George began to look eagerly for the bluff that the rancher mentioned. They had found no water, and the cattle seemed distressed. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ Then, as he crossed a slight elevation, he saw a faint gray smear on the far horizon and it sent a thrill through him. Canadian locomotives burning native coal pour out clouds of thick black smoke which can be seen a long way in the clear air of the prairie. George was thirty or forty feet, he thought, above the general level of the plain, the light was strong, and he imagined that it would take him most of the day to reach the spot over which the smoke had floated. He was, however, heading for the track, and he gathered his courage. ”

“ It rained between gleams of sunshine, and masses of dark cloud rolled by above the dripping town and wet prairie, which had turned a dingy gray.
As he was proceeding along one sidewalk, George met Hardie, and it struck him that the man was looking dejected and worn.
"Will you come back with me and wait for supper?" he asked. "I'd be glad of a talk."
"I think not," said George. "You're on the far side of the town and there are two streets to cross; you see, I'm going to Brandon, and I'll take enough gumbo into the cars with me, as it is. Then my train leaves in half an hour. ”

“ He was becoming conscious of a pain in his left side; one foot felt sore; and as the sun got hotter a longing to lie down a while grew steadily stronger. Still, he could see nothing but short, gray grass ahead; he must hold on; there might be bluffs or broken country beyond the skyline.
At length a small square block cut against the dazzling brightness and slowly grew into a lonely homestead. After some consideration, George headed for it, and toward noon reached a little, birch-log dwelling, with a sod stable beside it. ”

“ Outside, beyond the broad sweep of lawn, the quiet English countryside lay bathed in the evening light: a river gleaming in the foreground, woods clothed in freshest verdure, and rugged hills running back through gradations of softening color into the distance. Inside, a ray of sunlight stretched across the polished floor, and gleams of brightness rested on the rows of books and somber paneling. Brantholme was old, but modern art had added comfort and toned down its austerity; and George, fresh from the northern snow peaks, was conscious of its restful atmosphere. ”

“ She could recall the unpolished stove, filling the place with its curious, unpleasant smell, and the icy draughts that eddied about it. She could imagine the swish of driving snow about the quivering wooden building when the dreaded blizzards raged; the strange, oppressive silence when the prairie lay still in the grip of the Arctic frost; and George coming in with half-frozen limbs and snow-dust on his furs, to spend the dreary evening in trying to keep warm. ”

“ Grain grown upon the stiff black loam withstood the drought, but the light soil of the Marston farm was lifted by the wind, and the sharp sand in it abraded the tender stalks. It might cut them through if the dry weather and strong breeze continued; and then the crop which was to cover his first expenses would yield him nothing.
"Yes," he returned moodily. "It looks as if it couldn't rain. We ought to go in more for stock-raising; it's safer." ”

“ Then Grant, without remembering how he got up, found himself upon his feet and lurching unsteadily toward the clump of brush. When he reached it, Lansing was standing beside his trembling horse, which had a long red gash down its shoulder. His hands were stained and a big discolored knife lay near his feet. There was nobody else about, but a beat of hoofs came back, growing fainter, out of the gathering dusk.
George looked around when the farmer joined him, and then pointed to the wound on the horse. ”

“ 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 he went out with Edgar to look at a horse, and George turned to Flora.
"Your father has taken a big weight off my mind, and I'm afraid I hardly thanked him," he said.
"Then it was a relief?" she asked, and it failed to strike him as curious that she seemed to know what he was alluding to.
"Yes," he declared; "I feel ever so much more confident now that I can get that seed. The fact that it was offered somehow encouraged me."
"You never expected anything of the kind? I've sometimes thought you're apt to stand too much alone. You don't attach enough importance to your friends." ”

“ After the doctor left, Herbert entered the room where his wife and Sylvia were, and took his place in an easy chair by a window. Outside, the lawn was covered with half-melted snow and the trees raised naked, dripping branches above the drooping shrubs. Farther back the hedgerows ran somberly across the white fields, and in the distance the hills loomed, desolate and gray, against a leaden sky. ”

“ Early on the following morning, George started homeward with his cattle, and as they rode slowly through the barley-grass that fringed the trail, Edgar looked at him with a smile.
"You spent some time in Miss Grant's company," he remarked. "How did she strike you?"
"I like her. She's interesting—I think that's the right word for it.
Seems to understand things; talks to you like a man."
"Just so," Edgar rejoined, with a laugh. "She's a lady I've a high opinion of; in fact, I'm a little afraid of her. Though I'm nearly as old as she is, she makes me feel callow. ”

“ They were nice people, with pleasant English ways; and George contrasted them with the rather grim, aggressive plainsmen among whom he would presently have to live: men who toiled in the heat, half naked, and who would sit down to meals with him in dusty, unwashed clothes. He was not a sybarite, but he preferred the society of Mrs. Lansing's guests.
After a while she beckoned him, and they leaned upon the terrace wall side by side. She was a good-natured, simple woman, with strongly domestic habits and conventional views.
"I'm glad Herbert has got away from business for a few days," she began. ”

“ 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." ”

“ His companion, a teamster born on the prairie, lay beside him amid the tall harsh grass that swayed to and fro with a curious dry clashing. He broke into a soft laugh when George suddenly raised his head.
"Only a cottontail hustling through the brush. Whoever's coming will strike the bluff on the other side," he said. "Night's kind of wild; pity it won't rain. Crops on light soil are getting badly cut." ”

“ It's unfortunate that the market broke before I could get rid of them, but it may rally. I'm rather disturbed about the matter; but, after all, one has to take one's chance in buying shares. Dealing in the speculative sorts is to a large extent a game of hazard."
"I suppose so, but then somebody must win."
"No," returned Herbert, "now and then everybody loses."
Sylvia glanced at him with a mocking smile.
"Even those in the inside ring? When that happens, it must be something like a catastrophe. But I'm sorry for George; he doesn't deserve this." ”

“ 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." ”

“ Edgar realized that he had been injudicious. Flora did not know that Sylvia Marston was still the owner of the farm and he hesitated to enlighten her.
"Well," he said, "George isn't greedy; it isn't in his nature."
"Do you mean that he's a rich man and is merely farming for amusement?"
"Oh, no," said Edgar; "far from it!" He indicated the miry wagons and the torn-up trails. "You wouldn't expect a man to do this kind of thing, if it wasn't needful. The fact is, I don't always express myself very happily; and George has told me that I talk too much." ”

“ One could imagine that such things might be violently stormed. But you're not rash, are you, or often in a hurry? However, it's time I was getting home."
She waved her hand and rode away, and George, getting into the saddle, started his team, and thought about her while he listened to the crackling of the stubble going down beneath the hoofs, and the soft thud of thrown-back soil as the lengthening rows of clods broke away from the gleaming shares. ”

“ A low rhythmic drumming that suggested the beat of hoofs rose from the waste, but it was lost as the branches rattled and the long grass swayed noisily before a rush of breeze. George thought the sound had come from somewhere half a mile away.
"If they're Indians, would they bring a wagon?" he asked.
"It's quite likely. Some of the bucks keep smart teams; they do a little rough farming on the reservation. It would look as if they were going for sloo hay, if anybody saw them."
George waited in silence, wishing he could hear the thud of hoofs again. ”