WITH THE STREAM
It was Winston's last afternoon at the Grange, and almost unpleasantly
hot, while the man whose vigor had not as yet returned to him was
content to lounge in the big window-seat listlessly watching his
companion. He had borne the strain of effort long, and the time of his
convalescence amid the tranquillity of Silverdale Grange had with the
gracious kindliness of Miss Barrington and her niece been a revelation
to him. There were moments when it brought him bitterness and
self-reproach, but these were usually brief, and he made the most of
what he knew might never be his again, telling himself that it would at
least be something to look back upon.
Maud Barrington sat close by, glancing through the letters a mounted
man had brought in, and the fact that his presence put no restraint on
her curiously pleased the man. At last, however, she opened a paper
and passed it across to him.
"You have been very patient, but no doubt you will find something that
will atone for my silence there," she said.
Winston turned over the journal, and then smiled at her. "Is there
anything of moment in your letters?"
"No," said the girl, with a little laugh. "I scarcely think there
is--a garden party, a big reception, the visit of a high official, and
a description of the latest hat. Still, you know, that is supposed to
be enough for us."
"Then I wonder whether you will find this more interesting: 'The bears
made a determined rally yesterday, and wheat moved back again. There
was later in the day a rush to sell, and prices now stand at almost two
cents below their lowest level.'"
"Yes," said Maud Barrington, noticing the sudden intentness of his
pallid face. "I do. It is serious news for you?"
"And for you! You see where I have led you. Ill or well, I must start
for Winnipeg to-morrow."
Maud Barrington smiled curiously. "You and I and a handful of others
stand alone, but I told you I would not blame you whether we won or
lost. Do you know that I am grateful for the glimpses of the realities
of life that you have given me?"
Winston felt his pulses throb faster, for the girl's unabated
confidence stirred him, but he looked at her gravely. "I wonder if you
realize what you have given me in return? Life as I had seen it was
very grim and bare--and now I know what, with a little help, it is
possible to make of it."
"With a little help?" said Maud Barrington.
Winston nodded, and his face which had grown almost wistful hardened.
"Those who strive in the pit are apt to grow blind to the best--the
sweetness and order, and all the little graces that mean so much. Even
if their eyes are opened, it is usually too late. You see, they lose
touch with all that lies beyond the struggle, and without some one to
lead them they cannot get back to it. Still, if I talk in this fashion
you will laugh at me, but every one has his weakness now and then--and
no doubt I shall make up for it at Winnipeg to-morrow. One can not
afford to be fanciful when wheat is two cents down."
Maud Barrington was not astonished. Tireless in his activities and,
more curious still, almost ascetic in his mode of life, the man had
already given her glimpses of his inner self and the vague longings
that came upon him. He never asked her pity, but she found something
pathetic in his attitude, for it seemed he knew that the stress and the
turmoil alone could be his. Why this was so she did not know, but it
was with a confidence that could not be shaken now she felt it was
through no fault of his. His last words, however, showed her that the
mask was on again.
"I scarcely fancy you are well enough, but if you must go, I wonder
whether you would do a good turn to Alfreton?" she said. "The lad has
been speculating--and he seems anxious lately."
"It is natural that they should all bring their troubles to you."
Maud Barrington laughed. "I, however, generally pass them on to you."
A trace of color crept into the man's face, and his voice was a trifle
hoarse as he said, "Do you know that I would ask nothing better than to
take every care you had, and bear it for you?"
"Still," said the girl, with a little smile, "that is very evidently
out of the question."
Winston rose, and she saw that one hand was closed as he looked down
upon her. Then he turned and stared out at the prairie, but there was
something very significant in the rigidity of his attitude, and his
face seemed to have grown suddenly careworn when he glanced back at her.
"Of course," he said quietly. "You see, I have been ill, and a little
off my balance lately. That accounts for erratic speeches, though I
meant it all. Colonel Barrington is still in Winnipeg?"
"Yes," said the girl, who was not convinced by the explanation, very
quietly. "I am a little anxious about him, too. He sold wheat
forward, and I gather from his last letter has not bought it yet. Now,
as Alfreton is driving in to-morrow, he could take you."
Winston was grateful to her, and still more to Miss Barrington, who
came in just then, while he did not see the girl again before he
departed with Alfreton on the morrow. When they had left Silverdale a
league behind, the trail dipped steeply amid straggling birches to a
bridge which spanned the creek in a hollow, and Winston glanced up at
the winding ascent thoughtfully.
"It has struck me that going round by this place puts another six miles
on to your journey to the railroad, and a double team could not pull a
big load up," he said.
The lad nodded. "The creek is a condemned nuisance. We have either to
load light when we are hauling grain in, and then pitch half the bags
off at the bottom and come back for them--while you know one man can't
put up many four-bushel bags--or keep a man and horses at the ravine
until we're through."
Winston laughed. "Now, I wonder whether you ever figured how much
those little things put up the price of your wheat."
"This is the only practicable way down," said the lad. "You could
scarcely climb up one side where the ravine's narrow abreast of
Silverdale."
"Drive round. I want to see it," said Winston. "Call at Rushforth's
for a spool of binder twine."
Half an hour later Alfreton pulled the wagon up amid the birches on the
edge of the ravine, which just there sloped steep as a railway cutting,
and not very much broader, to the creek. Winston gazed at it, and then
handed the twine to the hired man.
"Take that with you, Charley, and get down," he said. "If you strip
your boots off you can wade through the creek."
"I don't know that I want to," said the man.
"Well," said Winston, "it would please me if you did, as well as cool
your feet. Then you could climb up, and hold that twine down on the
other side."
The man grinned, and, though Alfreton remembered that he was not
usually so tractable with him, proceeded to do Winston's bidding. When
he came back there was a twinkle of comprehension in his eyes, and
Winston, who cut off the length of twine, smiled at Alfreton.
"It is," he said dryly, "only a little idea of mine."
They drove on, and reaching Winnipeg next day, went straight to Graham
the wheat-broker's offices. He kept them waiting some time, and in the
meanwhile men with intent faces passed hastily in and out through the
outer office. Some of them had telegrams or bundles of papers in their
hands, and the eyes of all were eager. The corridor rang with
footsteps, the murmur of voices seemed to vibrate through the great
building, while it seemed to Alfreton there was a suggestion of strain
and expectancy in all he heard and saw. Winston, however, sat gravely
still, though the lad noticed that his eyes were keener than usual, for
the muffled roar of the city, patter of messengers' feet, ceaseless
tinkle of telephone call bells, and whir of the elevators, each packed
with human freight, all stirred him. Hitherto he had grappled with
nature, but now he was to test his judgment against the keenest wits of
the cities, and stand or fall by it, in the struggle that was to be
waged over the older nations' food.
At last, however, a clerk signed to them from a doorway, and they found
Graham sitting before a littered table. A man sat opposite him with
the telephone receiver in his hand.
"Sorry to keep you, but I've both hands full just now. Every man in
this city is thinking wheat," he said. "Has he word from Chicago,
Thomson?"
"Yes," said the clerk. "Bears lost hold this morning. General buying!"
Just then the door swung open and a breathless man came in. "Guess I
scared that clerk of yours who wanted to turn me off," he said. "Heard
what Chicago's doing? Well, you've got to buy for me now. They're
going to send her right up into the sky, and it's 'bout time I got out
before the bulls trample the life out of me."
"Quite sure you can't wait until to-morrow?" asked Graham.
The man shook his head. "No, sir. When I've been selling all along
the line! Send off right away, and tell your man on the market to
cover every blame sale for me."
Graham signed to the clerk, and as the telephone bell tinkled a lad
brought in a message. The broker opened it. "New York lost advance
and recovered it twice in the first hour," he read. "At present a
point or two better. Steady buying in Liverpool."
"That," said the other man, "is quite enough for me. Let me have the
contracts as soon as they're ready."
He went out, and Graham turned to Winston. "There's half-a-dozen more
of them outside," he said. "Do you buy or sell?"
Winston laughed. "I want to know which a wise man would do."
"Well," said Graham, "I can't tell you. The bulls rushed wheat up as I
wired you, but the other folks got their claws in and worried it down
again. Wheat's anywhere and nowhere all the time, and I'm advising
nobody just now. No doubt you've formed your own opinion."
Winston nodded. "It's the last of the grapple, and the bears aren't
quite beaten yet, but any time the next week or two the decisive turn
will come. Then, if they haven't got out, there'll be very little left
of them."
"You seem tolerably sure of the thing. Got plenty of confidence in the
bulls?"
Winston smiled. "I fancy I know how Western wheat was sown this year
better than any statistician of the ring, and it's not the bulls I'm
counting on, but those millions of hungry folks in the old country.
It's not New York or Chicago, but Liverpool the spark is coming from."
"Well," said Graham, "that's my notion, too, but I've no time for
anybody who hasn't grist for me just now. Still, I'd be glad to come
round and take you home to supper if you haven't the prejudice, which
is not unknown at Silverdale, against eating with a man who makes his
dollars on the market and didn't get them given him."
Winston laughed, and held up a lean brown hand. "All I ever had until
less than a year ago, I earned with that. I'll be ready for you."
He went out with Alfreton, and noticed that the lad ate little at
lunch. When the meal was over, he glanced at him with a smile through
the cigar smoke.
"I think it would do you good to take me into your confidence," he said.
"Well," said Alfreton, "it would be a relief to talk, and I feel I
could trust you. Still, it's only fair to tell you I didn't at the
beginning. I was an opinionated ass, you see."
Winston laughed. "I don't mind in the least, and we have most of us
felt that way."
"Well," said the lad, "I was a little short of funds, and proud of
myself, and when everybody seemed certain that wheat was going down
forever, I thought I saw my chance of making a little. Now I've more
wheat than I care to think of to deliver, the market's against me. If
it stiffens any further, it will break me; and that's not all, you see.
Things have gone tolerably badly with the folks at home, and I fancy it
took a good deal of what should have been the girls' portion to start
me at Silverdale."
"Then," said Winston, "it's no use trying to show you how foolish
you've been. That is the usual thing, and it's easy; but what the man
in the hole wants to know is the means of getting out again."
Alfreton smiled ruefully. "I'm tolerably far in. I could just cover
at to-day's prices if I pledged my crop, but it would leave me nothing
to go on with, and the next advance would swamp the farm."
"Well," said Winston quietly, "don't buy to-day. There's going to be
an advance that will take folks' breath away, but the time's not quite
ripe yet. You'll see prices knocked back a little the next day or two,
and then you will cover your sales to the last bushel."
"But are you sure?" asked the lad, a trifle hoarsely. "You see, if
you're mistaken, it will mean ruin to me."
Winston laid his hand on his shoulder. "If I am wrong, I'll make your
losses good."
Nothing more was said on that subject, but Alfreton's face grew anxious
once more as they went up and down the city. Everybody was talking
wheat, which was not astonishing, for that city, and the two great
provinces to the west of it, lived by the trade in grain, and before
the afternoon had passed they learned that there had been a persistent
advance. The lad's uneasiness showed itself, but when they went back
to the hotel about the supper hour Winston smiled at him.
"You're feeling sick?" he said. "Still, I don't fancy you need worry."
Then Graham appeared and claimed him, and it was next morning when he
saw Alfreton again. He was breakfasting with Colonel Barrington and
Dane, and Winston noticed that the older man did not appear to have
much appetite. When the meal was finished he drew him aside.
"You have covered your sales, sir?" he asked.
"No, sir," said Barrington. "I have not."
"Then I wonder whether it would be presumption if I asked you a
question?"
Barrington looked at him steadily. "To be frank, I fancy it would be
better if you did not. I have, of course, only my own folly to blame
for believing I could equal your natural aptitude for this risky
amusement which I had, and still have, objections to. I was, however,
in need of money, and seeing your success, yielded to the temptation.
I am not laying any of the responsibility on you, but am not inclined
to listen to more of your suggestions."
Winston met his gaze without embarrassment. "I am sorry you have been
unfortunate, sir."
Just then Dane joined them. "I sat up late last night in the hope of
seeing you," he said. "Now, I don't know what to make of the market,
but there were one or two fellows who would have bought my estimated
crop from me at a figure which would have about covered working
expenses. Some of the others who did not know you were coming in, put
their affairs in my hands too."
"Sell nothing," said Winston quietly.
It was an hour later when a messenger from Graham found them in the
smoking-room, and Colonel Barrington smiled dryly as he tore up the
envelope handed him.
"'Market opened with sellers prevailing. Chicago flat!'" he read.
Dane glanced at Winston somewhat ruefully, but the latter's eyes were
fixed on Colonel Barrington.
"If I had anything to cover I should still wait," he said.
"That," said Dane, "is not exactly good news to me."
"Our turn will come," said Winston gravely.
That day, and during several which followed it, wheat moved down, and
Dane said nothing to Winston, about what he felt, though his face grew
grimmer as the time went on. Barrington was quietly impassive when
they met him, while Alfreton, who saw a way out of his difficulties,
was hard to restrain. Winston long afterwards remembered that horrible
suspense, but he showed no sign of what he was enduring then, and was
only a trifle quieter than usual when he and Alfreton entered Graham's
office one morning. It was busier than ever, while the men who
hastened in and out seemed to reveal by attitude and voice that they
felt something was going to happen.
"In sellers' favor!" said the broker. "Everybody with a few dollars is
hammering prices one way or the other. Nothing but wheat to be heard
of in this city. Well, we'll simmer down when the turn comes, and
though I'm piling up dollars, I'll be thankful. Hallo, Thomson,
anything going on now?"
"Chicago buying," said the clerk. "Now it's Liverpool! Sellers
holding off. Wanting a two-eighths more the cental."
The telephone bell tinkled again, and there was a trace of excitement
in the face of the man who answered it. "Walthew has got news ahead of
us," he said. "Chicago bears caved in. Buying orders from Liverpool
broke them. Got it there strong."
Winston tapped Alfreton's shoulder. "Now is the time. Tell him to
buy," he said. "We'll wait outside until you've put this deal through,
Graham."
It was twenty minutes before Graham came out to them. "I'll let you
have your contracts, Mr. Alfreton, and my man on the market just fixed
them in time," he said. "They're up a penny on the cental in Liverpool
now, and nobody will sell, while here in Winnipeg they're falling over
each other to buy. Never had such a circus since the trade began."
Alfreton, who seemed to quiver, turned to his companion, and then
forgot what he had to tell him. Winston had straightened himself, and
his eyes were shining, while the lad was puzzled by his face. Still,
save for the little tremor in it his voice was very quiet.
"It has come at last," he said. "Two farms would not have covered your
losses, Alfreton, if you had waited until to-morrow. Have supper with
us, Graham--if you like it, lakes of champagne."
"I want my head, but I'll come," said Graham, with a curious smile. "I
don't know that it wouldn't pay me to hire yours just now."
Then Winston turned suddenly, and running down the stairway shook the
man awaiting him by the arm.
"The flood's with us now," he said. "Find Colonel Barrington, and make
him cover everything before he's ruined. Dane, you and I, and a few
others, will see the dollars rolling into Silverdale."
Dane found Barrington, who listened with a grim smile to what he had to
tell him.
"The words are yours, Dane, but that is all," he said. "Wheat will go
down again, and I do not know that I am grateful to Courthorne."
Dane dare urge nothing further, and spent the rest of that day
wandering up and down the city, in a state of blissful content, with
Alfreton and Winston. One of them had turned his losses into a small
profit, and the other two, who had, hoping almost against hope, sown
when others had feared to plow, saw that the harvest would repay them
beyond their wildest expectations. They heard nothing but predictions
of higher prices everywhere, and the busy city seemed to throb with
exultation. The turn had come, and there was hope for the vast wheat
lands it throve upon.
Graham had much to tell them when they sat down to the somewhat
elaborate meal Winston termed supper that night, and he nodded
approvingly when Dane held out his glass of champagne and touched his
comrade's.
"I'm not fond of speeches, Courthorne, and I fancy our tastes are the
same," he said. "Still, I can't let this great night pass without
greeting you as the man who has saved not a few of us at Silverdale.
We were in a very tight place before you came, and we are with you when
you want us from this time, soul and body, and all our possessions."
Alfreton's eyes glistened, and his hand shook a little as he touched
the rim of Winston's goblet.
"There are folks in the old country who will bless you when they know,"
he said. "You'll forget it, though I can't, that I was once against
you."
Winston nodded to them gravely, and, when the glasses were empty, shook
hands with the three.
"We have put up a good fight, and I think we shall win, but, while you
will understand me better by and by, what you have offered me almost
hurts," he said.
"What we have given is yours. We don't take it back," said Dane.
Winston smiled, though there was a wistfulness in his eyes as he saw
the faint bewilderment in his companions' faces.
"Well," he said slowly, "you can do a little for me now. Colonel
Barrington was right when he set his face against speculation, and it
was only because I saw dollars were badly needed at Silverdale, and the
one means of getting them, I made my deal. Still, if we are to succeed
as farmers we must market our wheat as cheaply as our rivals, and we
want a new bridge on the level. Now, I got a drawing of one, and
estimates for British Columbia stringers, yesterday, while the birches
in the ravine will give us what else we want. I'll build the bridge
myself, but it will cheapen the wheat-hauling to everybody, and you
might like to help me."
Dane glanced at the drawing laid before him, but Alfreton spoke first.
"One hundred dollars. I'm only a small man, but I wish it was five,"
he said.
"I'll make it that much, and see the others do their share," said Dane,
and then glanced at the broker with a curious smile.
"How does he do it--this and other things? He was never a business
man!"
Graham nodded. "He can't help it. It was born in him. You and I can
figure and plan, but Courthorne is different--the right thing comes to
him. I knew the first night I saw him, you had got the man you wanted
at Silverdale."
Then Winston stood up wineglass in hand. "I am obliged to you, but I
fancy this has gone far enough," he said. "There is one man who has
done more for you than I could ever do. Prosperity is a good thing,
but you, at least, know what he has aimed at stands high above that.
May you have the Head of the Silverdale community long with you!"