THE CASTING VOTE
It was a bitter evening. The snow on the crests of the rises glittered
like steel; the hollows were sharply picked out in blue. The frost was
pitiless, and a strong breeze whipped up clouds of dry snow and drove
them in swirls across the plain. A half moon, harshly bright, hung low
above the western horizon, and the vast stretch of sky that domed in the
prairie was sprinkled with stars.
Harding and Devine were on their way to attend a council meeting at the
Grange. Wrapped, as they were, in the thick driving-robe, with their fur
caps pulled well down, they could not keep warm. The cold of the icy
haze seemed to sear the skin. Harding's woolen-mittened hand was numbed
on the reins, and he feared that it was getting frostbitten.
"It's fierce to-night," Devine remarked. "Do you think there'll be a
good turn-out of the Allenwood boys?"
"The cold won't stop them. I expect the Colonel has sent round to whip
them up."
"I guess you're right. Do you know, now that I've met one or two of them
I see something in you and Hester that's in them. Can't tell you what it
is, but it's there, and it was plainer in your father. What are they
like when you get to know them?"
"Much the same as the rest of us."
"The rest of us! Then you don't claim to be different from the general
prairie crowd?"
Harding frowned.
"I suppose I wouldn't mind being thought the best farmer in the
district," he said; "but that's all the distinction I care about."
"You'll get that easy enough. You've gone ahead fast, Craig, and you're
going farther; but you may have some trouble on the way. When a man
breaks a new trail for himself and leaves other men behind, it doesn't
make them fond of him."
"Oh, I have no delusions on that point. To attain success, one cannot
hope to travel a balmy road."
"Why do you want to rope in the Allenwood boys?" Devine asked curiously.
"The reason's plain. You and I might make the steam-plow pay, but the
price is high, and we can't do much more alone. If you want the best
economy in farming, you must have cooperation. It's easier to buy
expensive tools if you divide the cost."
"I see that. But have you no other reason? You don't feel that you'd
like to make friends with these people and, so to speak, have them
acknowledge you?"
"No," said Harding firmly. Since his talk with Beatrice he had felt a
curious antagonism to the whole Allenwood settlement.
It was too cold to talk much, and the men drove on in silence until the
lights of the Grange twinkled out across the plain. Ten minutes later
they entered the big hall, and Harding cast a quick glance about. He
noticed the clusters of wheat-ears and the big moose-heads on the wall,
the curious Eastern weapons and the English sporting guns that
glistened beneath them, and the fine timbering of the pointed roof. He
did not think there was another homestead to compare with this between
Winnipeg and the valleys of British Columbia; but it was the company
that seized his attention. It looked as if every man in the settlement
were present; and they were worth the glance he gave them. Dressed with
picturesque freedom, they were, for the most part, handsome men, with
powerful frames and pleasant, brown faces. Harding knew they had
courage and intelligence, yet he felt that there was something
lacking--something hard to define. He thought of them as without the
striving spirit; as too content.
One or two gave him a welcoming smile, and there was a slight general
movement when he sat down. Mowbray, however, looked up with some
surprise from the head of the long table.
"After certain favors Mr. Harding has done me, it would be singularly
inappropriate if I questioned his coming here as my guest. On the other
hand, the presence of any outside person at our council is irregular."
"May I explain?" Kenwyne said. "Mr. Harding and his partner came by my
invitation to give us some information about matters of which he knows
more than any one else. They will, of course, take no other part in the
proceedings."
Mowbray bowed. "I am satisfied. Mr. Harding will understand that a
president must show due regard to form."
His manner was courteous, yet Harding was conscious of a subtle
antagonism between them. To some extent, it was personal, but its roots
struck deeper; it was the inevitable hostility between the old school
and the new. Mowbray was a worthy representative of the former.
Fastidiously neat in his dress, though his clothes were by no means of
the latest cut, and sitting very upright, he had an air of dignity and
command. He might be prejudiced, but it was obvious that he was neither
dull nor weak.
"We have," he said, taking up a paper, "a motion of some importance
before us. It is proposed that we consider the advisability of
cooperating with Messrs. Harding and Devine: first, in the purchase and
use of a steam-plow; second, in the organization of a joint creamery;
and, third, in opening a sales office in Winnipeg or other convenient
center for the disposal of stock and general produce."
Putting down the paper he looked round with an ironical smile.
"You will observe that the scheme is by no means modest; indeed, it
strikes me as the most revolutionary project that has ever been
suggested in this place. It is nevertheless my duty to ask those
responsible for it to say what they can in its favor."
Kenwyne rose with a composed expression.
"Briefly, the advantages are these. With mechanical power we can plow
more land than at present and at a reduced cost."
"That is far from certain," Mowbray declared. "We cannot take it for
granted. These machines go wrong."
"With your permission, I will ask Mr. Harding to give us some figures
later. We are missing opportunities by being content with rearing only a
limited number of beef cattle. Winnipeg and Brandon are growing fast;
new towns are springing up along the railroad, and there will soon be a
demand for dairy produce that will counterbalance the rather frequent
loss of a wheat crop."
"It will mean more paid hands and working all the land," some one
objected.
"Exactly. I may add that this is our aim. The land must be developed."
There was a murmur of disapproval, but Kenwyne went on.
"Then there is reason to believe that we seldom obtain the prices we
ought to get. Stockbuyers' profits and salesmen's charges are high, and
we can't expect these gentry to look after _our_ interests. We could
best secure these by setting up an agency of our own, and hiring trained
assistance. I'm afraid we cannot claim to be successful business men."
"If that claim is ever justified, you will have to choose another
leader," Mowbray remarked. "This settlement was not founded with the
object of making money. Now, Broadwood!"
Broadwood rose with a smile.
"We must all agree, sir, that there's not much danger of the object you
mention being realized. No doubt, there are some to whom this doesn't
matter, but the rest are confronted with the necessity for making a
living, and I suspect that one or two have the trouble I've experienced
in paying my storekeepers' bills."
"Don't be personal!" some one called out.
"That strikes me as foolish," Broadwood retorted. "One can't help being
personal. We all know one another; we use one another's horses and
borrow one another's cash; and it's the necessity for doing the latter
that I wish to obviate. We all know our neighbors' needs, and I want to
show you how they can be supplied."
He had struck the right note with his easy humor; but Harding saw that
Mowbray was not pleased.
"_You_ don't need much," one cried amid laughter. "You got a bumper
harvest, and cut down your subscription to the hounds."
Broadwood smiled.
"I came out of the rut and worked. A rash experiment, perhaps, but it
didn't prove so harrowing as I feared; and there's some satisfaction in
having no debts. But my point is that you can't do much without proper
implements, and I feel that we'll have to get them. The proposal I've
the pleasure of seconding, shows you how."
He sat down, and Mowbray looked up with a sarcastic smile.
"Broadwood's remarks don't take us much farther; he seems careful to
avoid practical details. Now the first thing I notice about this scheme
is that it is founded on combination. Its proposers are right in
assuming the necessity for this, if their purpose is to secure
economical success; but such success can be bought at too high a price.
Carry the cooperative idea out to its logical conclusion, and a man
becomes a machine. He must subordinate his private judgment, he cannot
choose his course, all his movements must be regulated by central
control. Then you may get efficiency, but you destroy character,
independence, personal responsibility, all the finest attributes of
human nature. You may object that I am exaggerating; that nobody wants
this. The danger is that if you decide to go some distance, you may be
driven farther than you think. Then, Allenwood was founded to encourage
individual liberty--that settlers here might live a healthy life, free
from economic pressure; on their own land, farming it like gentlemen,
and not with bitter greed; enjoying the wind and sunshine, finding
healthy sport. We demand a high standard of conduct, but that is all. We
are bound to one another by community of ideals and traditions, and not
by the hope of dividends."
There was an outbreak of applause; then Kenwyne rose.
"The difficulty is that to lead our own lives, regardless of changing
times and in defiance of commercial principles, needs larger means than
most of us possess. The plain truth is that Allenwood has been living
upon its capital, drawing upon resources that cannot be renewed, and we
must presently face the reckoning. Some of us see this clearly, and I
think the rest are beginning to understand. If you have no objections,
sir, I will ask Mr. Harding to give us some figures."
Harding got up and stood silent for a moment or two, conscious that all
present were watching him. He felt that they were keeping the ring, and
that the affair had developed into a fight between himself and Mowbray.
Harding regretted this, because the Colonel's hostility would make the
secret hope he cherished very difficult to realize; but he could not act
against his convictions. He stood for progress--blundering progress,
perhaps--and Mowbray for the preservation of obsolete ways and means;
the conflict was inevitable. Harding might lose the first round, but he
knew that the result was certain. Vast, insuperable forces were arrayed
against his antagonist.
"To begin with, what do you expect to gain by persuading us to join
you?" Mowbray asked.
"A saving of expense and the help of the only neighbors I have at
present," Harding answered. "My partner and I are ready to go on alone,
but we can't hope to do much unassisted."
Opening the papers he had brought, he read out particulars of the cost
of plowing by horses and by steam; then statistics of American and
Canadian grain production and the fluctuations of prices.
"Where did you get the figures about the mechanical plowing?" Mowbray
asked in an ironical tone. "From the makers?"
"In the first place. I afterward checked them by information from
farmers who have used the machines."
"Very wise! These implements are expensive. Can you guarantee that they
will work satisfactorily?"
"That would be rash. I expect a certain amount of trouble."
"Skilled mechanics' wages are high. Do you recommend our keeping a man
here in case things go wrong?"
"Certainly not! If you buy a steam-plow, you must learn to keep it in
order."
Broadwood, picturing the Colonel sprawled under an oily engine, battling
with obstinate bolts, laughed aloud.
Mowbray frowned.
"Granting the accuracy of your statistics," he said, "you seem to have
proved the economy of mechanical power, when used on a large scale. But
we are not agreed upon the necessity for such a thing."
This was the opening Harding had waited for and he seized it quickly.
"At present wheat is your mainstay. How many of you will find it
profitable to grow at the current price?"
"Not many, perhaps," Mowbray admitted; and the disturbed expression of
others bore out the statement. "But is there adequate ground for
concluding it will remain at an abnormally low price?"
"It will not remain there. For the next few years it will go down
steadily."
There was a murmur of disagreement; and Mowbray smiled.
"I presume you are willing to justify this gloomy forecast?" he said.
"I'll try," answered Harding. "You have seen what one railroad has done
for Western Canada. It has opened up the country, brought wide tracts of
land into cultivation, and largely increased the wheat crop. That
increase will go on, and you will presently see rival lines tapping new
belts of fertile soil."
"But do you imply that the grain output of Western Canada can force down
prices?" a man asked with a scornful laugh. "We have all Europe for a
market. I imagine they'll use what we can send them in a few big English
towns."
It was obvious that the question met with approval, and Harding quietly
searched the faces turned toward him. He belonged by right of birth to
these men's caste, but he did not want them to own him. He asked their
help, but he could do without it, though they could not dispense with
his. Their supineness irritated him; they would not see the truth that
was luminously clear. He felt a strange compulsion to rouse and dominate
them.
"The Canadian output will soon have to be reckoned with," he said. "In
the meantime, it's the effect of a general expansion throughout the
world that I'm counting on. What has been done in Canada is being done
everywhere. Look abroad and see! The American middle West linked up with
new railroads, grain pouring out to New York and Baltimore; Californian
wheat shipments doubling, and the Walla country in Oregon all one grain
belt. They're tapping new soil in Argentina; Australia and Chile are
being exploited wherever they get rain; and British irrigation works in
Egypt and India will have their effect."
Gerald Mowbray spoke for the first time.
"One feels tempted to inquire where Mr. Harding secured this mass of
information?" he said, with a slight curl of his lips.
"You can get a good deal for a few dollars' subscription to New York
papers," Harding answered dryly. "When the snow's deep, men with no
amusements have time to read. But that's beside the question. I must now
ask you to consider the improvement in transport. Locomotives are
doubling their size and power; you have seen the new grain cars. The
triple-expansion engine is cutting down ocean freight, making distance
of no account. All countries must compete in the world's markets with
the cheapest grower. To survive in the struggle that's coming, one must
use efficient tools."
"And what will happen after the markets have been flooded?" a man asked
derisively.
"Then," said Harding gravely, "when the slack and careless have been
killed off there will be a startling change. The farming expansion can't
last; there's not enough accessible virgin land to draw upon. American
shipments will fall off; the demands of the world's growing population
will overtake the supply. Those who live through the fight will find
riches thrust upon them."
"We are losing sight of the general produce and dairy scheme," Mowbray
remarked. "Have you anything to tell us on this point?"
"Not much. Winnipeg is growing, so is Brandon, and they'll provide good
markets for farming truck; but the country that will ask for most is
British Columbia."
"Rather a long way off!" somebody commented.
"Wait and see," said Harding. "They're opening new mines and sawmills
all over the province; Columbia's aim is industrial, not agricultural,
and most of the land there is rock and forest. They're cut off from the
Pacific States by the tariff, and naturally they'll turn to us across
the Rockies. I foresee our sending general produce west instead of east.
Now, although I've taken up too much time, will you give me a minute to
read some figures?"
He paused, and with an almost involuntary burst of applause they bade
him go on. The statistics he gave were telling, clinching his arguments,
and when he sat down there was a deep murmur of approval from opponents
as well as friends. The breadth of his views and his far-reaching
knowledge appealed to them. It was the first time they had heard
anything like this at Allenwood.
After waiting a few moments for silence, Mowbray turned to Devine.
"Have you anything of interest to tell us?"
"Well," Devine said with simple earnestness, "I was raised at a prairie
homestead. I began to drive horses soon after I could walk, and ever
since I've been living on the soil. That's how I know that in the long
run scratch-farming will never pay. With Nature up against us, we can
take no chances when we break new land, for she's mighty hard to beat,
with her dry seasons, harvest frost, blight, and blowing sand. We've got
to use the best of everything man can invent and, if we're to stand for
a run of bad times, get the last cent's value for every dollar. Any
machine that won't give you the top output must be scrapped: you must
get your full return for your labor. Slouching and inefficiency lead you
straight into the hands of the mortgage man."
When he sat down, Mowbray smiled.
"Our visitors have certainly given us food for thought," the Colonel
said. "I offer them our thanks, and should now be glad to hear any fresh
opinions."
Several men spoke; some with warmth and some with careless humor.
"As we don't get much further, we will take a vote," Mowbray suggested.
"I will move the resolution as it stands. Though this has not been our
usual custom, you are entitled to a ballot."
There was silence for a moment. Mowbray's views were known, and the men
shrank from wounding him, for he did not bear opposition well. For all
that, with a fastidious sense of honor, they disdained the shield of
the secret vote.
"I think we will stick to the show of hands," Kenwyne replied.
"Very well," said Mowbray. "For the motion!"
Harding, glancing round the room, was surprised and somewhat moved to
notice that Lance's hand went up among the rest. The boy had voted
against his father. So far as Harding could judge, half the men were in
favor of the scheme.
"Against the motion!"
The hands were raised, and Mowbray counted them with care.
"Equal, for and against," he announced. "I have a casting vote, and I
think the importance of the matter justifies my using it. I declare the
motion lost."
There was an impressive silence for a few moments; then Broadwood spoke.
"Although we have decided against going on with the scheme, as a body, I
take it there is nothing to prevent any individuals who wish to do so
joining in Mr. Harding's venture?"
"I must leave you to decide how far such action is in good taste, or
likely to promote the harmony which has been the rule at Allenwood. Now
I think we can close the meeting."
When the company dispersed, Harding, Devine, and Broadwood drove home
with Kenwyne. The Scotch housekeeper opened the door for them, and
handed Kenwyne the mail which had been brought in his absence. He tore
open a newspaper and turned to the quotations.
"Wheat down sixpence a quarter at Liverpool," he said. "It will have
its effect in Chicago and Winnipeg." He dropped the paper and took off
his fur coat. "I suppose you're going on with the plan, Harding?"
"The plow's ordered."
"You're a hustler," Broadwood laughed; "but you mustn't make the pace
too hot. We've been used to going steady. What did you think of the
meeting?"
"It went better than I expected."
"We'd have had a majority only that they were afraid of the Colonel; and
I don't blame them. In a way, he made a rather pathetic figure, trying
to sweep back the tide. The old man has courage; it's a pity he won't
see that his is a lost cause."
"He can't," said Kenwyne gravely; "and we must realize that."
"Then are you going to let him ruin you?" Devine asked.
"I hope not; but we all feel that we can't disown our leader," Broadwood
answered. "I dare say you can understand that we have a hard row to
hoe."
"Well, the creamery scheme will have to be dropped," Kenwyne said; "but
there'll be plenty of work for the new plow."
"Yes," Harding replied. "If all the rest stand out, Devine and I can
keep it busy."
"How much land do you intend to break?"
Harding told him, and Kenwyne looked astonished.
"You're a bold man. If it's not an impertinence, can you finance the
thing?"
"It will take every dollar I have."
"And if you lose? The spring rains are sometimes hard enough to uproot
the young blades; or a summer hailstorm or drought may come and ruin the
crop."
Harding shrugged his shoulder.
"Those things must be considered, of course. But one never gets very far
by standing still and waiting for a disaster that may never occur.
'Nothing ventured, nothing gained,'" he quoted with a smile.