A PLAIN HINT
Mr. Oliver bought another horse from one of his scattered neighbors, and
a few days afterward he and Jake set off for an inlet along the coast
near which a few ranchers lived. Harry explained to Frank that as they
clubbed together and bought their supplies from Seattle a little steamer
from the latter place called at the inlet now and then to deliver the
goods, and his father had ordered a mower which was to be sent down by
her.
Mr. Oliver did not come back until late in the evening a couple of days
later, but as soon as he arrived he and Jake set to work to put the
machine together, and it was getting dusk when at last they left it
standing beneath the trees near the edge of a ravine. Early on the
following morning the boys went back with them to see if it would work
satisfactorily in cutting a little green timothy, but as they crossed
the clearing Jake, who was leading the team a little distance in front
of his companions, stopped suddenly.
"You didn't go back and move that machine after we left it?" he asked.
"No," replied Mr. Oliver. "What made you think I did?"
Jake looked at his employer rather curiously. "Well," he said, "somebody
must have moved it. The thing's gone."
Mr. Oliver broke into a run and the rest followed. When they reached the
clump of trees they could discover no sign of the mower, except for the
track of wheels among the withered needles and undergrowth. This led
toward the ravine, at the bottom of which a little water flowed, and
Frank saw Mr. Oliver's face harden as he followed this guide. A minute
later they stood on the brink of the declivity and saw the mower lying
upon its side among the stones thirty or forty feet below them. The
slope was almost precipitous, but Mr. Oliver went down sliding amidst a
rush of loosened soil, and Frank and Harry with some difficulty
scrambled down after him. A glance was sufficient to show them that the
implement was not likely to be of the least use to its owner. Mr. Oliver
examined it quietly and then clambered back up the side of the ravine,
after which he sat down and took out his pipe before he turned to Jake.
"Every bit of cast-iron in it is smashed," he said. "The pinion wheels
are broken, and the other parts are bent. I'll have to order another
one."
Jake made a gesture of sympathy.
"If I could get hold of the folks who did the thing it would be a
consolation, but I haven't the least notion how to trail them."
"One man couldn't have moved it," said Mr. Oliver.
"There were three of them. The question is, what brought them here? I
guess they didn't come just to smash the machine."
Mr. Oliver seemed lost a moment in contemplation.
"I think you're right," he said at length. "They probably came because
this is the easiest way of getting through to the settlements in the
Basker district and the beach behind the head makes a handy landing.
We'll go along and look around. I don't think they'd try the cove. It's
too near the house."
They turned into a bush trail together, and when they reached the beach
a little while later Jake, stooping over a furrow in the smooth shingle
by the water's edge, looked up at Mr. Oliver.
"A sea canoe grounded here soon after last high water," he said. "You
can see where they ran her down when it had ebbed a little."
Mr. Oliver, who was still quietly smoking, nodded.
"Yes," he said, "it's very much as I expected. With a sheltered landing
here and as good a trail inland as they could find, it's not difficult
to understand why those fellows were anxious that I should stand in with
them, or, at least, leave them alone. This thing, of course, was meant
as a warning." Then he addressed the boys: "You needn't wait. You can
get some more of those branches sawed off in the slashing."
They moved away and left him talking to Jake, and it was not until they
had reached the bush that Harry made any observation.
"I've a notion that we're up against the meanest kind of toughs, but in
the long run I'll back dad," he said. "It's quite likely that if we lie
low you and I may get a hand in later on."
Frank made no answer, though the prospect his companion suggested was
not unpleasant to him. Going back to their work they sawed up branches
until nightfall. On the following afternoon they were still engaged at
the same task at some distance from the house when they saw Jake, who
had set out for a neighboring ranch in the morning, enter the clearing,
dragging a big and evidently very unwilling animal after him. He sat
down upon a log, and Harry dropped his ax.
"It's Webster's dog," he said to Frank. "I heard that somebody had given
him one. We'll go along and look at him."
They found Jake rather breathless and very red in face, holding the end
of a chain fastened to the collar of the dog, who crouched close by
watching him with wicked eyes and white fangs bared. A serviceable club
lay beside Jake, but it seemed to Frank that he had got as far away from
the animal as the chain permitted. The lad was, however, not astonished
at this, for he fancied he had never seen as intractable and generally
unprepossessing a dog as this one.
"Dad's borrowed him from Webster?" Harry suggested.
"It seemed to me Webster was mighty glad to get rid of him and didn't
want him back," said Jake. "Guess if he was mine I wouldn't be anxious
to keep him either."
Frank moved a pace or two nearer the dog, holding out his hand, but
speedily retired when it growled at him savagely. After that Jake turned
to Harry.
"You're fond of dogs," he suggested. "Wouldn't you like to pat him?"
"No," said Harry, edging away. "I wouldn't try it for five dollars. What
kind of a brute is he?"
"Well," said Jake, "I figure that fellow has a considerable mixture of
ancestors, though there's a strain of the bull in him. That's where he
got his stylish mouth from. He's about as amiable as a timber-wolf, and
he has the gait of a bear, while it's my opinion there's more sense in a
plow ox than there is in him."
"When did you leave Webster's?" Harry next inquired.
"Soon as dinner was over," responded Jake dryly.
"And supper will be ready soon. What in the name of wonder have you been
doing?" Harry looked around at Frank. "It's about three miles."
Jake grinned. "Coming along--and resting. This fellow kind of decided
he'd sit down every now and then, and I let him. He's a dog that's been
accustomed to doing just what he wants."
"Did you have to cross the creek?" asked Frank, who noticed that the
man's long boots and part of his trousers were wet.
"No," said Jake curtly. "The critter took a notion he'd like to go in,
and as I couldn't let him loose, I had to go in, too. We splashed
around in it for quite a few minutes."
Harry broke into a burst of laughter and Jake handed him the club. "I
want to get in by supper. Suppose you put a move on him."
He stood up and jerked the chain, but the dog bared his teeth again and
declined to stir. Harry, getting behind him, tapped him with the club,
and he swung round savagely, straining at the chain.
"Now," said Jake, "I know how we'll fix him. You make him mad and then
head for the ranch while he gets after you, and I'll try to hold him."
"No," said Harry decisively, "I don't think we'll try that way. Go on
and lead him."
The animal moved off at last and shambled toward the house, looking
bigger and considerably more clumsy than the largest bulldog Frank had
ever seen. He walked into the kitchen docilely, but when Miss Oliver
approached him Harry cried out in dismay.
"Keep away!" he warned. "He isn't safe."
"Loose the chain," said Miss Oliver, and to their vast astonishment the
dog walked up to her, wagging his disreputable tail, and crouching down,
licked her hands. She patted his great head gently and then turned
smilingly to the boys.
"I'm afraid Webster has been rough with him," she said. "It's clear that
he's a woman's dog."
"A woman's dog?" echoed Harry scathingly. "Well, the man who gave that
beast to a woman must have been crazy."
During the next few days the dog made himself at home at the ranch,
though with the exception of Miss Oliver he still eyed its inhabitants
suspiciously. Jake said that though almost fully grown he was young and
had no sense yet. Then the dog commenced to follow the boys about at a
distance, and once fell upon and destroyed their overall jackets which
they had taken off when they went to work. They found him sitting upon
the tatters, evidently feeling proud of himself, for he wagged his tail
and barked delightedly when they approached. As a rule, he did not make
much noise, but his growl was deep and ominous, with something in it
that discouraged any attempt at undue familiarity.
While they were ruefully inspecting their ruined garments Jake came up
and leaned against a neighboring tree.
"He wants training, Harry," he observed. "If he was my dog, I'd break
him in."
"The question," retorted Harry indignantly, "is how it's to be done.
I'll own up that I know very little about training dogs, and that's not
the kind of one I'd like to begin on." He turned to Frank. "Considering
that a good many of the ranchers live almost alone, it's rather a
curious thing that there are very few dogs in this part of the country."
Jake fixed his eyes dubiously upon the animal, who trotted up a little
nearer and growled at him.
"Well," he said, "he's sure a daisy, but I guess he can be taught, and
the first thing is to let him see you're not afraid of him."
Harry snickered. "Then suppose you try to prove it. Haul him up by the
ear and teach him he's not to eat my jacket."
Jake judiciously disregarded this suggestion. "There's one trick most
dogs learn quite easy. It's to guard. You put down some of your clothes,
for instance, and make him see that nobody's to touch them until you
come back. Then he'll sit tight until you do, and I guess in this
fellow's case there'd be mighty little wrong with the nerves of the man
who'd put a hand on them."
"If it's to be clothes they'll have to be somebody else's," said Harry.
"Anyway, I'll mention it to my aunt. It's my opinion she's the only
person who could teach him anything."
How Miss Oliver taught the dog they did not know, but she succeeded, for
when the boys walked up to the house at supper time one evening a week
or two later Harry, who reached the door first, came out hurriedly.
"The brute won't let me in," he explained. "I confess it sounds kind of
silly, but perhaps you'd like to try."
Frank approached the door cautiously and stopped when he reached it. The
dog crouched near the center of the kitchen floor, with a woman's straw
hat in front of him from which there trailed a couple of chewed-up
feathers. He looked up at Frank with a low, warning growl which said
very plainly, "Come no farther!"
They called him endearing names, which, so far as they could see, had
not the least effect, but neither of them felt equal to entering the
kitchen until Miss Oliver walked in by another door. Then the dog let
her take the hat, wagging his tail with satisfaction.
"He's a good deal more intelligent than you seem to think," she said.
"Give him your hat, Harry, and then go out and wait for a few minutes
before you come back for it."
Harry did so, and the dog made no trouble when he picked up the hat, but
he would not let Frank go near it in the meanwhile. After that they
tried two or three more experiments of the same kind, though Frank took
no part in them, which was a thing he regretted when he went for a swim
an evening or two later.
On this occasion the tide was almost full, the water in the cove was
pleasantly warm and bright sunlight streamed down upon it, showing the
white shingle a fathom beneath the surface. Now and then Frank went down
toward it, for he had learned to swim under water and look about him
while he did so, but by and by he headed for the entrance to the cove
with the overhand side stroke which Harry had taught him. Swinging his
left arm forward over his head, his face dipped under and then rose in
the midst of a ripple as his hollowed palm swept backward under his
crooked elbow to his thigh, while his legs swung across each other like
a pair of scissors. The brine gleamed and sparkled as it slipped past
him, and when he reached the entrance to the cove he slid up and down
the smooth, green undulations with a pleasant lift and fall. It was so
exhilarating that he went farther than he had intended, and he was
feeling a little breathless when at last he turned back, but when he
reached the spot where he had undressed trouble awaited him.
The dog was seated upon his clothing, watching him with suspicious eyes,
and it growled when he stood up knee-deep. Frank hesitated. The dog did
not look amiable, but he was beginning to feel cold, and he walked
slowly forward a pace or two. Then the creature raised itself on its
forepaws, with white fangs bare, and once more broke into a deep,
ominous growl. There was no doubt that it intended to guard his clothes.
He threw a piece of shingle at it and was glad on the whole that he had
not succeeded in hitting it when it stood up with bristling hair and a
most determined look in its eyes. Frank floundered back into the water,
wondering uneasily if it was coming in after him, and then standing
still up to his waist considered what he should do. It was evident that
he could not stay where he was much longer, and the dog showed no sign
of going away. It was equally impossible for him to walk back to the
ranch without his clothes, and in the meanwhile he was growing
unpleasantly chilly. Then he noticed that although the shadow of the
crags above rested upon the spot where he stood the sunshine fell upon a
boulder which rose out of the water not far away. Swimming to it he
crawled out and found it a little warmer there, but this brought him no
nearer to finding a way out of the difficulty.
He did not remember how long he lay shivering upon the stone, but the
shadow had crept across it and the tall firs above him showed up more
blackly against the evening light, when at last Harry came clattering
over the shingle and stopped in astonishment on seeing him.
"Whatever are you doing there?" he asked.
"Waiting until your dog goes home," said Frank. "He won't let me have my
clothes. If you hadn't come I expect I'd have to stay here until
to-morrow."
Harry couldn't help grinning when he observed the resolute animal.
"Wouldn't it have been easier to come out and whack him off?"
"No," said Frank decidedly. "If you were in my place you wouldn't want
to try."
Harry walked up to the creature and picked up the clothes, whereat it
rose immediately and wagged its tail as though satisfied in having done
its duty.
"He doesn't seem to mind me," Harry observed dryly. "Anyway, there's no
reason why you shouldn't come out now unless, of course, you're happier
where you are."
Frank swam across, dressed, and ran all the way to the ranch, but it was
half an hour before he was moderately warm again. The next day he set
about teaching the dog to guard. It occurred to him that it was not
desirable that Harry and Miss Oliver should be the only ones to whom the
animal would give any stray article of clothing he might come across.
A week or two later Miss Oliver went away on a visit to Tacoma, and Mr.
Oliver, who had bought a new mower, commenced to cut his timothy hay.
The machine could only work on the cleared land, and where the stumps
were thick he set the boys to mow with the scythe. Frank found it
troublesome work, for the big roots ran along the surface of the ground.
The fern had grown up among these roots, and it was their task to cut
and pick it out from the grass, while every few minutes the scythe point
struck a root and sometimes stuck in it. In places it struck gravel,
which made dents in it, and the blade often got entangled among shooting
willows and young fir saplings. Frank decided that while it was
evidently a costly and difficult thing to clear a ranch, it must be
almost as hard for its owner to keep what he had won, since the forest
persistently crept back again.
"Suppose you left this place alone for a couple of years?" he asked,
stopping to whet his dinted scythe.
"You wouldn't know it again," Harry answered with a smile. "It would be
a waste of willows, with young firs growing up between them. You
couldn't tell it from the bush, only that the trees all round would be
higher."
Frank dropped his scythe blade and leaned upon the haft. He had been
mowing since sunrise, and the shadows were now rapidly lengthening. His
back ached and his hands were sore, and he found it a relief to stand
still a moment and look about him. On one side of the clearing the
slanting sunrays struck deep into the forest, forcing up great columnar
trunks out of the shadow. On the other, the fretted pinnacles of the
firs cut sharp against the sky, and between stretched long swathes of
fallen timothy and fern already turning yellow. Not far away, Mr.
Oliver, sitting in the mower's saddle, was guiding his team along the
edge of the grass which fell beneath the rasping knife, and the clink
and rattle of the machine rang sharply through the still, evening air.
Frank, stripped to blue shirt and trousers, found everything his eyes
rested on pleasant, and he felt that, after all, he had done wisely when
he left the cities.
Then he noticed Jake, who had been to the settlement, crossing the
clearing with some letters in his hand. He gave them to Mr. Oliver, who
pulled his team up and sat still for some minutes reading them. After
that he stepped out and walked toward the boys.
"You might take the team along, Harry, and put the kettle on the stove,"
he said. "We'll have supper as soon as it's ready."
Harry moved away and Mr. Oliver leaned against a neighboring stump with
his eyes fixed thoughtfully on Frank.
"I've a letter from your mother," he said. "She wants to know if I'm
satisfied with you." He paused a moment and added with a smile: "That's
a question I think I can answer in the affirmative."
"Thank you, sir," said Frank.
"Then," Mr. Oliver continued, "she goes into one or two other matters on
which she seems to want my opinion. In the first place, somebody has
offered to find you an opening in the office of a Philadelphia business
firm. You'll have to decide about it, and it seems to me that the choice
is rather a big one. You see, if you stay out here ranching two or three
years it will probably spoil you for a business life in the eastern
cities."
Frank thought hard for a minute or two. There was no doubt that
ranching, when it included clearing land, as it generally seemed to do,
was remarkably arduous work. In the case of a man with little money it
evidently meant almost incessant toil, for it was only by persistent
effort that one could chop and saw up the great trees and grub the
stumps out. Still, he was growing fond of it, and, what was more, he was
conscious that he was gaining a resolution and muscular vigor that in
all probability he would never have acquired in the crowded cities.
Finally he looked up. "I don't think I would care to go back to them
now," he said.
Mr. Oliver nodded gravely. "Your mother doesn't seem to think a great
deal of this opening, but, on the other hand, you want to bear in mind
that if you expect to make money in ranching you must be able to invest
it. Raising cattle and fruit for sale is a trade, and a trader gets no
more than a certain interest on his money and the wages which an equally
capable managing clerk or foreman in the same profession would receive.
There are few respectable businesses in which that interest is a very
big one. As the result of this, the trader must be content with a little
unless he has the money to earn him more."
"Yes," said Frank somewhat ruefully, "that's clear. I'm afraid I can
hardly count on much."
"Your mother mentions that when you are three or four years older she
might perhaps be able to raise you about two thousand dollars."
"I suppose that wouldn't go very far, sir?"
"It certainly wouldn't buy you a ranch anywhere near a city, but you
might get land enough to make a small one back in the bush. If you
bought such a place, you would probably have to go out and work at one
of the sawmills or logging camps now and then. It would be several years
before you could make much of a living, because it would cost you so
much to bring your stock to market."
"Yes," said Frank. "I suppose that is why the land would be cheap?"
Mr. Oliver made a sign of assent. "It's a difficulty which is, however,
usually got over in this country. You hold on and cultivate your land,
and by and by the market comes to you. Somebody starts a sawmill or a
pulp mill in the locality, or, if there's ore about, a smelter. New
trails are cut, settlements spring up, and presently a branch railroad
comes along, and the rancher can sell everything he can raise." He broke
off for a moment, and smiled rather dryly. "In such a case you may get
big prices, but if you average them out over the years of working and
waiting, you'll find you have earned them, and that, after all, the
stuff you sell is mighty cheap."
Then he handed Frank the letter. "I'd consider it carefully. The mail
won't leave for the next three days, and now we'll go along to supper."
Harry had managed to prepare a meal, and when it was over Mr. Oliver
turned to the boys.
"A friend of mine in Victoria has written asking me to look at a big
piece of bush land he thinks of buying on the west coast of Vancouver
Island. He offers to pay my expenses and a fee, and I've an idea that we
might run across in the sloop if we get moderately fine weather after
the hay is in. I wonder if you would like to go with me?"
There was no doubt that the prospect appealed to them and Mr. Oliver
smiled his approval.
"Then," he said, "you had better hustle that hay in. We'll start as soon
as we're through with it."