DIPLOMACY
Flett left the team at George's homestead. Bidding him take good care
of it, and borrowing a fresh team, he drove away with the wagon. When
he reached Sage Butte it was getting dusk. He hitched the horses
outside of the better of the two hotels and entered in search of food,
as he had still a long ride before him. Supper had long been finished,
and Flett was kept waiting for some time, but he now and then glanced
at the wagon. It was dark when he drove away, after seeing that the
case lay where he had left it, and he had reached his post before he
made a startling discovery. When he carried the case into the
lamplight, it looked smaller, and on hastily opening it he found it was
filled with soil!
He sat down and thought; though on the surface the matter was clear--he
had been cleverly outwitted by somebody who had exchanged the case
while he got his meal. This, as he reflected, was not the kind of
thing for which a constable got promoted; but there were other points
that required attention. The substitution had not been effected by
anybody connected with the Queen's; it was, he suspected, the work of
some of the frequenters of the Sachem; and he and his superiors had to
contend with a well-organized gang. News of what had happened in the
bluff had obviously been transmitted to the settlement while he had
rested at Lansing's homestead. He had, however, made a long journey,
and as he would have to ride on and report the matter to his sergeant
in the morning, he went to sleep.
The next day George was setting out on a visit to Grant when a man rode
up and asked for the team.
"Flett can't get over, but he wants the horses at the post, so as to
have them handy if he finds anybody who can recognize them," he
explained.
That sounded plausible, but George hesitated. The animals would be of
service as a clue to their owner and a proof of his complicity in the
affair. As they had not been identified, it would embarrass the police
if they were missing.
"I can only hand them over to a constable, unless you have brought a
note from Flett," he replied.
"Then, as I haven't one, you'll beat me out of a day's pay, and make
Flett mighty mad. Do you think he'd get anybody who might know the
team to waste a day riding out to your place? Guess the folks round
here are too busy, and they'd be glad of the excuse that it was so far.
They won't want to mix themselves up in this thing."
George could find no fault with this reasoning, but he thought the
fellow was a little too eager to secure the horses.
"Well," he said, "as I'm going to call on Mr. Grant, I'll see what he
has to say. If I'm not back in time, Mr. West will give you supper."
"Then Grant's standing in with you and the temperance folks?"
It struck George that he had been incautious, but he could not
determine whether the man had blundered or not. His question suggested
some knowledge of the situation, but an accomplice of the offenders
would, no doubt, have heard of the part Grant's hired man had played.
"I don't see how that concerns you," he replied. "You'll have to wait
until I return if you want the team."
He rode on, but he had not gone far when he met Beamish, of the Sachem.
"I was coming over to see you," the man told him. "You bought that
young Hereford bull of Broughton's, didn't you?"
George was surprised at the question, but he answered that he had done
so.
"Then would you sell him?"
"I hadn't thought of it."
"Guess that means I'll have to tempt you," Beamish said. "I want the
beast."
He named a price that struck George as being in excess of the animal's
value; and then explained:
"I've seen him once or twice before he fell into Broughton's hands; the
imported Red Rover strain is marked in him, and a friend of mine, who's
going in for Herefords, told me not to stick at a few dollars if I
could pick up such a bull."
This was plausible, but not altogether satisfactory, and George,
reflecting that a buyer does not really praise what he means to
purchase, imagined that there was something behind it.
"I'm not likely to get a better bid," he admitted. "But I must ask if
the transaction would be complete? Would you expect anything further
from me in return?"
Beamish regarded him keenly, with a faint smile.
"Well," he said, "I certainly want the bull, but you seem to
understand. Leave it at that; I'm offering to treat you pretty
liberally."
"So as to prevent my assisting Flett in any way or taking a part in
Hardie's campaign?"
"I wouldn't consider it the square thing for you to do," Beamish
returned quietly.
George thought of the man who was waiting at the homestead for the
team. It was obvious that an attempt was being made to buy him, and he
strongly resented it.
"Then I can only tell you that I won't make this deal. That's the end
of the matter."
Beamish nodded and started his horse, but he looked back as he rode off.
"Well," he called, in a meaning tone, "you may be sorry."
George rode on to Grant's homestead, and finding him at work in the
fallow, told him what had passed.
"I fail to see why they're so eager to get hold of me," he concluded.
Grant, sitting in the saddle of the big plow, thoughtfully filled his
pipe.
"Of course," he said, "it wasn't a coincidence that Beamish came over
soon after the fellow turned up for the horses. It would have been
worth while buying the bull if you had let them go--especially as I
believe it's right about a friend of his wanting one--and nobody could
have blamed you for selling. The fact is, your position counts. The
bluff would make a handy place for a depot, and, while there's nobody
else near, you command the trails to it and the reservation. Nobody
could get by from the settlement without being seen, unless they made a
big round, if you watched out."
"I'm beginning to understand. What you say implies that they're doing
a good trade."
"That's so," Grant assented. "I wouldn't have believed it was so big
before Hardie put me on the track and I began to look around. But you
want to remember that what you're doing may cost you something. I'm
your nearest neighbor, you're running stock that are often out of
sight, and you're up against a determined crowd."
"It's true," George admitted. "Still, I can't back out."
Grant cast a keen, approving glance at him. George sat quietly in his
saddle with a smile on his brown face; his pose was easy but virile:
there was a stamp of refinement and old country breeding upon him. His
eyes were suggestively steady; his skin was clear; he looked forceful
in an unemphatic manner. The farmer was to some extent prejudiced
against the type, but he could make exceptions. He had liked Lansing
from the beginning, and he knew that he could work.
"No," he said; "I guess you're not that kind of man. But won't you get
down and go along to the house? Flora will be glad to talk with you,
and I'll be in for supper soon."
George thanked him, and did as he suggested. He was beginning to find
pleasure in the conversation of Flora Grant.
It was two hours later when he took his leave and the farmer went out
with him.
"I don't know what Hardie's doing, but I've an idea that Mrs. Nelson
means to make some move at the Farmers' Club fair," he said. "She's a
mighty determined and enterprising woman. If you can spare the time,
you'd better ride in and see what's going on."
On reaching home, George was not surprised to find that the man who had
come for the horses had departed without waiting for his answer. The
next day he received an intimation that the annual exhibition of the
Sage Butte Farmers' Club would shortly be held; and one morning a
fortnight later he and Edgar rode off to the settlement.
They found the little town rudely decorated with flags and arches of
poplar boughs, and a good-humored crowd assembled. The one-sided
street that faced the track was lined with buggies, wagons, and a few
automobiles; horses and two or three yoke of oxen were tethered outside
the overfull livery stables.
A strong breeze drove blinding dust-clouds through the place, but even
in the wind the sunshine was scorching.
As he strolled toward the fair-ground, George became interested in the
crowd. It was largely composed of small farmers, and almost without
exception they and their wives were smartly attired; they looked
contented and prosperous. Mingling with them were teamsters, many as
neatly dressed as their masters, though some wore blue-jean and
saffron-colored shirts; and there were railroad-hands, mechanics, and
store-keepers. All of them were cheerful; a few good years, free from
harvest frost and blight, had made a marked improvement in everybody's
lot.
Yet, there was another side to the picture. Odd groups of loungers
indulged in scurrilous jests; hoarse laughter and an occasional angry
uproar issued from the hotels, and shabby men with hard faces slouched
about the veranda of one. George noticed this, but he presently
reached the fair-ground, where he inspected the animals and implements;
and then, toward supper-time, he strolled back with Grant. They were
walking up one of the side-streets when shouts broke out behind them.
George looked around but for a moment he could see very little through
the cloud of dust that swept the street. When it blew away it revealed
a row of women advancing two by two along the plank sidewalk. They
were of different ages and stations in life, but they all came on as if
with a fixed purpose, and they had resolute faces. Mrs. Nelson led
them, carrying a riding quirt, and though George was not astonished to
see her, he started when he noticed Flora Grant near the end of the
procession. She was paler than usual, and she walked quietly with a
rather strained expression.
Grant touched George's shoulder.
"This is certainly more than I figured on," he said; "but I guess
there's no use in my objecting. Now she's started, she'll go through
with it. They're making for the Sachem; we had better go along."
Shortly afterward, a gathering crowd blocked the street.
"Speech!" somebody cried; and there was ironical applause.
Mrs. Nelson raised her hand, and when the procession stopped, she
looked sternly at the men before her.
"No," she answered; "speeches are wasted on such folks; we're here to
act!"
She waved the quirt commandingly.
"Let us pass!"
She was obeyed. The women moved on; and George and Grant managed to
enter the hotel behind them before the throng closed in. The big
general-room was hot and its atmosphere almost intolerably foul; the
bar, which opened off it, was shadowy, and the crowded figures of
lounging men showed dimly through thick cigar smoke. The hum of their
voices died away and there was a curious silence as the women came in.
Edging forward, George saw Beamish leaning on his counter, looking
quietly self-possessed and very dapper in his white shirt and well-cut
clothes.
"Well," he said, "what do you ladies want with me?"
Their leader faced him, a small and yet commanding figure, with an
imperious expression and sparkling eyes.
"You got a notice that from supper-time this bar must be shut!"
"I did, ma'am. It was signed by you. Now, so far as I know, the
magistrates are the only people who can close my hotel."
"That's so!" shouted somebody; and there were confused murmurs and
harsh laughter which suggested that some of the loungers were not quite
sober.
"Fire them out!" cried another man. "Guess this is why Nelson gets
cold potatoes for his supper. Ought to be at home mending socks or
washing their men's clothes."
The lady turned sternly on the last speaker.
"Yes," she said; "that's the kind of idea you would hold. It's getting
played out now."
George was conscious of slight amusement. The affair had its humorous
side, and, though he was ready to interfere if the women were roughly
handled, he did not think they ran any serious risk. Beamish looked
capable of dealing with the situation.
"You don't require to butt in, boys," he said. "Leave me to talk to
these ladies; I guess their intentions are good." He bowed to Mrs.
Nelson. "You can go on, ma'am."
"I've only this to say--you must close your bar right now!"
"Suppose I'm not willing? It will mean a big loss to me."
"That," answered Mrs. Nelson firmly, "doesn't count; the bigger the
loss, the better. You will stop the sale of drink until to-morrow, or
take the consequences."
Another woman, who looked careworn and haggard, and was shabbily
dressed, stood forward.
"We and the children have borne enough!" she broke out. "We have to
save the cord-wood in the bitter cold; we have to send the kiddies out
in old, thin clothes, while the money that would make home worth living
in goes into your register. Where are the boys--our husbands and
sons--who once held steady jobs and did good work?" She raised an
accusing hand, with despair in her pinched face. "Oh! I needn't tell
you--they're rebranding farmers' calves or hiding from the police!
Don't you know of one who walked to his death through the big trestle,
dazed with liquor? For these things the men who tempted them will have
to answer!"
"True, but not quite to the point," Mrs. Nelson interposed. "We have
found remonstrance useless; the time for words has passed. This fellow
has had his warning; we're waiting for him to comply with it."
There was an uproar outside from the crowd that was struggling to get
in and demanding to be told what was going on; but Beamish made a sign
of resignation.
"It looks as if I couldn't refuse you; and anyway it wouldn't be
polite." He turned to his customers.
"Boys, it's not my fault, but you'll get no more drinks to-day. For
all that, I must make a point of asking you to treat these ladies with
respect."
"Smart," Grant remarked to George. "He has handled the thing right.
This means trouble for Hardie."
Then Beamish once more addressed the intruders.
"Now that I've given in, has it struck you that there isn't much use in
closing my place if you leave the Queen's open?"
"We'll shut them both!" Mrs. Nelson declared.
"Then there's just another point--I've folks who have driven a long
way, staying the night with me, and there's quite a crowd coming in for
supper. How am I to treat them?"
"They can have all they want to eat," Mrs. Nelson told him graciously;
"but no liquor."
"I can't refuse to supply them without a reason. What am I to say?"
"Tell them that the Women's Reform League has compelled you to close
your bar."
"And I've been given the orders by their acknowledged secretary?"
"Yes. I'm proud of being their leader, and of the duty I've
discharged."
Beamish turned to his customers.
"You'll remember what she has told me, boys!"
Grant drew George away.
"She walked right into the trap; you couldn't have stopped her. I'm
sorry for Hardie. But we may as well get out now; there'll be no
trouble."
The street was blocked when the women left, but a passage was made for
them; and, followed by everybody in the settlement, they proceeded to
the other hotel, whose proprietor capitulated. Then Mrs. Nelson made a
speech, in which she pointed out that for once the festival would not
be marked by the orgies which had on previous occasions disgraced the
town. Her words, by no means conciliatory, and her aggressive air
provoked the crowd, which had, for the most part, watched the
proceedings with amusement. There were cries of indignant dissent,
angry shouts, and the throng began to close in upon the speaker. Then
there was sudden silence, and the concourse split apart. Into the gap
rode a slim young man in khaki, with a wide hat of the same color, who
pulled up and sat looking at the people with his hand on his hip.
George recognized him as the constable who shared the extensive beat
with Flett.
"Now," he said good-humoredly, "what's all this fuss about?"
Several of them informed him and he listened gravely before he called
one of the farmer's stewards, and spoke a few words to him.
"It strikes me," he said, "that you had all better go back to the
fair-ground, while I look into things. There's an item or two on the
program Mr. Carson wants to work off before supper."
He had taken the right tone, and when they began to disperse he rode on
to the Sachem.
"I want your account of this disturbance," he said to the proprietor.
Beamish related what had taken place and the constable looked surprised.
"Am I to understand that you're afraid to open your bar because of the
women?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," replied Beamish, coolly; "that's about the size of it.
You'd have been scared, too; they're a mighty determined crowd."
"Nobody except the authorities has any right to interfere."
"That's my opinion, but what am I to do about it? Suppose these women
come back, will you stand at the door and keep them out? They're
capable of mobbing you."
The constable looked dubious, and Beamish continued:
"Besides, I've given them my word I'd shut up--they made me."
"Then how do you expect us to help?"
"So far as I can see, you can only report the matter to your bosses."
The constable felt inclined to agree with this. He asked for the names
of the ladies, and Beamish hesitated.
"I was too taken up with Mrs. Nelson to notice the rest, and the place
was rather dark. Anyway, about half of them were foolish girls with
notions; I don't want to drag them in."
"You blame somebody for setting them on?"
"I do," said Beamish, without a trace of rancor. "There's Mrs.
Nelson--everybody knows she's a crank--and Hardie, the Methodist
minister. They've been trying to make trouble for the hotels for quite
a while."
The constable made a note of this and presently called on Hardie, who
had just returned to town after visiting a sick farmer. The former
listened to what the minister had to say, but was not much impressed.
Beamish had cleverly made him his partizan.
After supper George and Grant called on Hardie and found him looking
distressed.
"I'm much afraid that the result of three or four months' earnest work
has been destroyed this afternoon," he said. "Our allies have stirred
up popular prejudice against us. We'll meet with opposition whichever
way we turn."
"There's something in that," Grant agreed. "Mrs. Nelson's a lady who
would wreck any cause. Still, she has closed the hotels."
"For one night. As a result of this afternoon's work, they will
probably be kept open altogether. You can imagine how the authorities
will receive any representations we can make, after our being
implicated in this disturbance."
"Have you thought of disowning the ladies? You could do so--you had no
hand in the thing."
The young clergyman flushed hotly.
"I'd have stopped this rashness, if I'd heard of it; but, after all,
I'm the real instigator, since I started the campaign. I'm willing to
face my share of the blame."
"You mean you'll let Beamish make you responsible?"
"Of course," said Hardie. "I can't deny I'm leader. The move was a
mistake, considered prudentially; but it was morally justifiable. I'll
defend it as strongly as I'm able."
Grant nodded, and Flora and Mrs. Nelson came in.
"Are you satisfied with what you've done?" Grant said to the girl.
"You might have given me a hint of it."
Flora smiled.
"I'm afraid Beamish was too clever for us. From an outsider's point of
view, he behaved exceptionally well, and in doing so he put us in the
wrong. I didn't know what had been planned when I left home, but, as
one of the league, I couldn't draw back when I heard of it."
"You think he was too clever?" Mrs. Nelson broke in. "How absurd to
say that! We have won a brilliant victory!"
Grant made a little gesture.
"If you're convinced of that, ma'am, we'll leave you to talk it over."
He led George toward the door.
"I like that man Hardie," he resumed when they reached the street.
"Beamish has him beaten for the present, but I'm thankful there'll be
no women about when we come to grips with his crowd. It may take a
while, but those fellows have got to be downed."