THE PRAIRIE
After a hot and tedious journey, George and his companion alighted one
afternoon at a little station on a branch line, and Edgar looked about
with interest when the train went on again. A telegraph office with a
baggage-room attached occupied the middle of the low platform, a tall
water-tank stood at the end, and three grain elevators towered high
above a neighboring side-track. Facing the track, stood a row of
wooden buildings varying in size and style: they included a
double-storied hotel with a veranda in front of it, and several untidy
shacks. Running back from them, two short streets, thinly lined with
small houses, led to a sea of grass.
"Sage Butte doesn't strike one as a very exhilarating place," George
remarked. "We'll stroll round it, and then see about rooms, since we
have to stay the night."
They left the station, but the main street had few attractions to
offer. Three stores, with strangely-assorted, dusty goods in their
windows fronted the rickety plankwalk; beyond these stood a livery
stable, a Chinese laundry, and a few dwelling-houses. Several
dilapidated wagons and buggies were scattered about the uneven road.
In the side street, disorderly rows of agricultural implements
surrounded a store, and here and there little board dwellings with wire
mosquito-doors and net-guarded windows, stood among low trees. Farther
back were four very small wooden churches. It was unpleasantly hot,
though a fresh breeze blew clouds of dust through the place.
"I've seen enough," said Edgar. "The Butte isn't pretty; we'll assume
it's prosperous, though I haven't noticed much sign of activity yet.
Let's go to the hotel."
When they reached it, several untidy loungers sat half asleep in the
shade of the veranda, and though they obstructed the approach to the
entrance none of them moved. Passing behind them, George opened a door
filled in with wire-mesh, and they entered a hot room with a bare
floor, furnished with a row of plain wooden chairs. After they had
rung a bell for several minutes, a man appeared and looked at them with
languid interest from behind a short counter.
"Can you put us up?" George inquired.
"Sure," was the answer.
The man flung down a labeled key, twisted round his register, which was
fitted in a swivel frame, and handed George a pen.
"We want two rooms," Edgar objected.
"Can't help that. We've only got one."
"I suppose we'd better take it. Where can one get a drink?"
"Bar," replied the other, indicating a gap in a neighboring partition.
"They're laconic in this country," Edgar remarked.
"Ever since I arrived in it, I've felt as if I were a mere piece of
baggage, to be hustled along anyway without my wishes counting."
"You'll get used to it after a while," George consoled him.
Entering the dark bar, Edgar refreshed himself with several ice-cooled
drinks, served in what he thought were unusually small glasses. He
felt somewhat astonished when he paid for them.
"Thirst's expensive on the prairie," he commented.
"Pump outside," drawled the attendant. "It's rather mean water."
They went upstairs to a very scantily furnished, doubled-bedded room.
George, warned by previous experience, glanced around.
"There's soap and a towel, anyway; but I don't see any water," he
remarked. "I'll take the jar; they'll have a rain-tank somewhere
about."
Edgar did not answer him. He was looking out of the open window, and
now that there was little to obstruct his view, the prospect interested
him. It had been a wet spring, and round the vast half-circle he
commanded the prairie ran back to the horizon, brightly green, until
its strong coloring gave place in the distance to soft neutral tones.
It was blotched with crimson flowers; in the marshy spots there were
streaks of purple; broad squares of darker wheat checkered the sweep of
grass, and dwarf woods straggled across it in broken lines. In one
place was the gleam of a little lake. Over it all there hung a sky of
dazzling blue, across which great rounded cloud-masses rolled.
Edgar looked around as George came in with the water.
"That's great!" he exclaimed, indicating the prairie; and then, turning
toward the wooden town, he added: "What a frightful mess man can make
of pretty things! Still, I've no doubt the people who built the Butte
are proud of it."
"If you talk to them in that style, you'll soon discover their
opinion," George laughed; "but I don't think it would be wise."
Soon afterward a bell rang for supper, and going down to a big room,
they found seats at a table which had several other occupants. Two of
them, who appeared to be railroad-hands, were simply dressed in
trousers and slate-colored shirts, and when they rested their elbows on
the tablecloth, they left grimy smears. George thought the third man
of the party, who was neatly attired, must be the station-agent; the
fourth was unmistakably a newly-arrived Englishman. As soon as they
were seated, a very smart young woman came up and rattled off the names
of various unfamiliar dishes.
"I think I'll have a steak; I know what that is," Edgar told her.
She withdrew, and presently surrounded him with an array of little
plates, at which he glanced dubiously before he attacked the thin, hard
steak with a nickeled knife which failed to make a mark on it. When he
made a more determined effort, it slid away from him, sweeping some
greasy fried potatoes off his plate, and he grew hot under the stern
gaze of the girl, who reappeared with some coffee he had not ordered.
"Perhaps you had better take it away before I do more damage, and let
me have some fish," he said humbly.
"Another time you'll say what you want at first. You can't prospect
right through the menu," she rebuked him.
In the meanwhile George had been describing his companions on the train
to one of the men opposite.
"He told me he was located in the district, but I didn't learn his
name, and he didn't get off here," he explained. "Do you know him?"
"Sure," said the other. "It's Alan Grant, of Poplar, 'bout eighteen
miles back. Guess he went on to the next station--a little farther,
but it's easier driving, now they're dumping straw on the trail."
"Putting straw on the road?" Edgar broke in. "Why are they doing that?"
"You'll see, if you drive out north," the man answered shortly. Then
he turned to his better-dressed companion. "What are you going to do
with that carload of lumber we got for Grant?"
"Send the car on to Benton."
"She's billed here."
"Can't help that--the road's mistake. Grant ordered all his stuff to
Benton. What he says goes."
This struck George as significant--it was only a man of importance
whose instructions would be treated with so much deference. Then the
agent turned to Edgar.
"What do you think of this country?"
"The country's very nice. So far as I've seen them, I can't say as
much for the towns; they might be prettier."
"Might be prettier?" exclaimed the agent. "If they're not good enough
for you, why did you come here?"
"I'm not sure it was a very judicious move. But, you see, I didn't
know what the place was like; and, after all, an experience of this
kind is supposed to be bracing."
The agent ignored Edgar after this. He talked to George, and elicited
the information that the latter meant to farm. Then he got up,
followed by two of the others, and the remaining man with the English
appearance turned to George diffidently.
"Do you happen to want a teamster?" he asked.
"I believe I'll want two," was the answer. "But I'm afraid I'll have
to hire Canadians."
The man's face fell. He looked anxious, and George remembered having
seen a careworn woman tearfully embracing him before their steamer
sailed. Her shabby clothes and despairing face had roused George's
sympathy.
"Well," said the man dejectedly, "that's for you to decide; but I've
driven horses most of my life, and until I get used to things I'd be
reasonable about the pay. I was told these little places were the best
to strike a job in; but, so far as I can find out, there's not much
chance here."
George felt sorry for him. He suddenly made up his mind.
"What are farm teamsters getting now?" he asked a man who was leaving
an adjacent table.
"Thirty dollars a month," was the answer.
"Thanks," said George, turning again to the Englishman. "Be ready to
start with us to-morrow. I'll take you at thirty dollars; but if I
don't get my value out of you, we'll have to part."
"No fear of that, sir," replied the other, in a tone of keen
satisfaction.
When they got outside, Edgar looked at George with a smile.
"I'm glad you engaged the fellow," he said; "but considering that
you'll have to teach him, were you not a little rash?"
"I'll find out by and by." George paused, and continued gravely: "It's
a big adventure these people make. Think of it--the raising of the
passage money by some desperate economy, the woman left behind with
hardly enough to keep her a month or two, the man's fierce anxiety to
find some work! When I saw how he was watching me, I felt I had to
hire him."
"Just so," responded Edgar. "I suppose I ought to warn you that doing
things of the kind may get you into trouble some day; but cold-blooded
prudence never did appeal to me." He took one of the chairs in front
of the building and filled his pipe before he continued: "We'll sit
here a while, and then we might as well stroll across the plain. The
general-room doesn't strike me as an attractive place to spend the
evening in."
An hour later they left the tall elevators and straggling town behind,
and after brushing through a belt of crimson flowers, they followed the
torn-up black trail that led into the waste. After a mile or two it
broke into several divergent rows of ruts, and they went on toward a
winding line of bluff across the short grass. Reaching that, they
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."