THE SPENDTHRIFT
Kenwyne felt pleasantly languid as he lounged in a basket-chair after
his evening meal. He had been back-setting land since daybreak. Holding
the plow was an occupation almost unknown to the Allenwood settlers, who
left all the rougher work to their hired men. Kenwyne, however, was of a
practical turn of mind; and, having invested all his money in his farm,
he meant to get some return. He occasionally enjoyed a run with the
coyote hounds, or a day's shooting when the migrating geese and ducks
rested among the sloos; but for the most part he stuck steadily to his
work and, as he bought the latest implements, he was considered richer
than he really was. Though thirty, he was unmarried; an elderly Scottish
housekeeper looked after him.
One of the obstacles to Allenwood's progress was that the bachelors
outnumbered the married men; and the difficulty seemed insuperable. The
settlers belonged to an exclusive caste, and few young Englishwomen of
education and refinement had shown themselves willing to face the
hardships of the prairie life; though these were softened at Allenwood
by many of the amenities of civilization. Moreover, it was known to the
rasher youths, who occasionally felt tempted by the good looks of the
daughters of the soil, that Colonel Mowbray sternly discountenanced
anything of the nature of a _mesalliance_, and that the married women
would deal even more strictly with the offenders. Broadwood, for
example, had broken the settlement's traditions, and he and his Canadian
wife had suffered.
While Kenwyne was reading an old newspaper, Gerald Mowbray sauntered in.
He had a careless, genial manner that made him a favorite, but there was
a hint of weakness in his face, and Kenwyne had never trusted him. It
was known that he had been wild and extravagant; but at Allenwood that
was not generally regarded as a grave drawback. They were charitable
there; several of the younger men, who now made good settlers, had left
England at their relatives' urgent request, after gaining undesirable
notoriety.
Gerald selected a comfortable chair and passed his cigar-case to
Kenwyne.
"They're good," he said. "I had them sent from Montreal."
"No, thanks," replied Kenwyne. "I've given up such extravagances, and
stick to the labeled plug. I don't want to be officious, but it might be
better if you did the same."
Gerald smiled.
"You're rather a sordid beggar, Ralph; but as that's often a sign of
prosperity, it makes me hopeful. I want you to lend me two hundred
pounds."
"Impossible!" said Kenwyne firmly.
"One hundred and fifty, then?"
"Equally out of the question. All I have is sunk in stock, and earmarked
for next year's operations." Kenwyne paused and considered. He knew the
chances were slight that the money would ever be returned; yet he
respected Colonel Mowbray, and his loyalty extended to the family of the
head of Allenwood. "Why do you want the money?" he asked.
"I suppose I'll have to tell you. It goes back to India--what you might
call a 'debt of honor.' I borrowed the money in London to square it; and
thought when I came to Canada I'd be too far away for the London fellow
to put undue pressure on me. Oh, I meant to pay sometime, when I was
ready; but the fellow transferred the debt to a man at Winnipeg, who has
sent me a curt demand with an extortionate bill of expenses. Now I have
to pay."
"I suppose you have been round the settlement?"
"Yes; but I haven't collected much. In fact, I'm afraid I'll have to
pledge my farm."
"You can't do that. Our foundation covenant forbids a settler to
alienate his land without the consent of a majority in the council,
subject to the president's veto. Your father would certainly use his
veto."
"Very true," Gerald agreed. "However, I don't propose to alienate my
land--only to pawn it for a time."
"It's against the spirit of the deed."
"I've nothing to do with its spirit. The covenant should say what it
means, and it merely states that a settler shall not sell to any person
who's not a member of the colony. I'm not going to sell."
"You're going to do a dangerous thing," Kenwyne warned him.
"Then the remedy is for you to let me have a thousand dollars," Gerald
said quickly.
"It is impossible; but I will try to raise five hundred. I suppose the
Colonel does not know you have come to me?"
"I rely upon your not letting him know." Gerald smiled in that
ingratiating way that won him many friends. "I'm deeply grateful, and
you're a good sort, Ralph, though in some ways you differ from the rest
of us. I don't know where you got your tradesman's spirit."
"It won't be so singular before long," Kenwyne answered with dry
amusement. "Even now, Broadwood and one or two others----"
"Broadwood doesn't count. He married a girl of the soil."
"He loves her, and she makes him a good wife."
"Yes, but it was a mistake. You know our traditions."
Kenwyne laughed, and nodded toward the open window, through which they
heard the sound of cheerful whistling approaching them along the trail.
"I suspect that's Broadwood now," he said.
"Well, I must be going. I will call for the check to-morrow."
Gerald left as Broadwood entered.
"I can guess what he wanted. He was at my place," Broadwood said, as he
took the seat Gerald had vacated.
"Ah! I'll wager he didn't go away empty-handed," Kenwyne smiled.
"Perhaps I'm betraying a confidence in admitting it. Anyway, I felt that
one ought to help him for the family's sake, lest he get into worse
trouble; and I could afford the loan. Since I married I've been making
some money. But I want to ask you about this Harding. What kind of
fellow is he?"
"I like what I've seen of him. Why?"
"Effie has been talking about his sister. Seemed to think it was unkind
to leave the girl alone--in want, perhaps, of odds and ends a woman
could supply. I think she has made up her mind to go see her."
"I'm not sure that would meet with general approval. What did you say?"
"I seldom give my opinion on these matters," Broadwood answered with a
laugh. "On the whole, I think Effie's right; and I suspect that knowing
the thing won't please the others gives it a charm. After all, she
hasn't much reason for respecting their prejudices. At first, they
nearly drove us out of Allenwood."
"I'm glad you didn't go. Your wife is steadily gaining ground, and the
others will be glad to copy her after a while."
"That's my idea; we'll have to work our land. Have you ever thought what
the Colonel could do with his big block, if he had the capital?"
"_And_ the wish!" said Kenwyne. "The obstacle is his point of view.
Besides, all of it isn't really his: Mrs. Mowbray, Beatrice, and the
boys have a share. Of course, his taking the lots as one gives him a
solid vote in the council, and with the veto he has on certain points
makes him an absolute ruler."
"So long as his family support him!"
"Can you imagine their doing the contrary?"
"I've thought the Colonel's position was least secure from an attack
within," Broadwood answered thoughtfully. "It doesn't follow that a
man's family is bound to agree with him. Gerald's a dark horse, and one
can't predict what he'll do, except that it will be what suits himself.
Lance is young and headstrong; and Beatrice has a mind of her own....
But I really came to ask your opinion about this sketch of a new stable.
I must buy another team."
They discussed the plan for the new building until it grew late and
Broadwood went home.
The following day Gerald Mowbray left Allenwood for Winnipeg. It was a
dismal, wet evening when he arrived; and Winnipeg was not an attractive
city at that time. There were a few fine stores and offices on Main
Street; Portage Avenue was laid out, and handsome buildings were rising
here and there; but, for the most part, the frame houses had a
dilapidated, squalid look. Rows of pedlers' shacks stretched back from
the wooden station, the streets were unpaved, and the churned-up prairie
soil lay in sticky clods upon the rude plank sidewalks. Dripping teams
floundered heavily through the mire. Although the city was beginning to
feel the stir of commercial activity, the dark corners were devoted to
questionable amusements.
Gerald had supper at his hotel, and afterward found the time hang upon
his hands. The general lounge was badly lighted, and its uncovered floor
was smeared with gumbo mud from the boots of the wet men who slouched in
to the bar. The door kept swinging open, letting in cold draughts; and
Gerald could find nobody to talk to. He had not enough money to pay off
his debt, but thought he had sufficient to enable him to make some
compromise with his creditor, and so had determined to see what could be
done. It was, however, impossible to spend the dismal evening at the
hotel, and he knew where excitement might be found at a moderate
cost--that is, if one were cautious and lucky.
Going out, he made his way toward a side street running down to the
river, and noticed the keen glance an armed Northwest policeman gave him
as he turned the corner. Gerald thought it a desirable spot to station
the constable.
A ramshackle frame house down the street was glaringly illuminated, and
Gerald, entering, found a number of men and one or two women in two
gaudily furnished rooms. There was another room at the back where
refreshments were dispensed without a license. For the most part, the
men were young, brown-faced fellows who had spent the summer on the
lonely plains; but a few had a hard and sinister look. The girls were
pretty and stylishly dressed, but they had a predatory air.
In one corner of the room an exciting poker game seemed to be in
progress. At the other end a roulette table was surrounded by a crowd of
eager players. Gerald was fond of games of chance, and he saw ahead of
him a pleasant evening. Leaning against the bar, he was merely an
onlooker for a while. The glare of light and the air of excitement, the
eager faces of the players and the click of the balls fascinated him.
He had not been drinking heavily; yet to his annoyance he felt a trifle
unsteady when at last he strolled over to the roulette table. His first
mistake was to take a five-dollar bill from the wallet which contained
the money to pay his debt. More than one pair of greedy eyes saw the
thick wad of paper currency; and from that moment Gerald was a marked
man in the room.
* * * * *
In the gray hour preceding daybreak, when, sick and dizzy, Gerald
stumbled back to his hotel, he found that he had only ten dollars
remaining of the amount that had been entrusted to him to settle his
debt. Ten dollars would not pay his hotel bill, even.
He woke about noon, his head aching severely. He could form no definite
idea as to what was best to be done. One thing, however, was certain: No
one at Allenwood must know how he had spent the preceding evening. His
relatives had no reason for believing his conduct irreproachable, but so
long as he did not thrust his failings upon their notice they ignored
them. Then, the revelation of how he had lost the money given him would
no doubt lead to his banishment from Allenwood; and except for a small
allowance from his mother's English property, he had no resources. The
survey he had been engaged upon was abandoned for a time, and he could
find no other employment. He must hold on at Allenwood, trusting that
something would turn up, and augmenting his income by the small sums he
might win from the younger men at cards. First of all, however, he must
call upon his creditor; it was a disagreeable task, but one that could
not be shirked.