A HELPING HAND
Lucy Calvert came over as often as she was able; but at length she was
compelled to discontinue her visits to Thorne. Soon after she had done
so, there was a welcome change in the almost torrid weather, and grass
and grain lay still under a faintly clouded sky when he toiled among the
sheaves one clear, cool afternoon. The binder which flung them out moved
along the edge of the oats in front of him, and another man was busy
among the crackling stubble a pace or two behind, for a neighbor had
driven across to help him on the previous evening, and the station-agent
had at last sent him out a man from the railroad settlement. They had
been at work since early morning, but each time Thorne glanced at the
oblong of standing grain he realized more clearly the futility of what
he was doing.
The belt of knee-high stubble, which shone, a sweep of warm ochre
tinting, against the white and gray of the parched grass beyond it, was
widening steadily as the crop went down before the binder, but he had a
good deal yet to cut, and there was another oblong of untouched grain
running back from a deserted wooden shack some distance away. Thorne had
followed the custom of the country, sowing oats on the newly broken land
and wheat on that which had been worked before, though in the latter
case he had agreed to pay a share of the proceeds to the owner of the
soil. He had secured an option of purchasing this second holding, but
it was quite out of the question that he should exercise it now, and a
very simple calculation convinced him that at his present rate of
progress less than half the crop would be ready when Grantly's note fell
due.
There was no doubt that his activity was illogical, as it was obvious
that the result of every hour's strenuous labor would only be to put so
much more money into Nevis's pocket, but he could not force himself to
give up the fight until the last moment. He still clung to a faint
expectation that something might transpire to lessen the odds against
him. He admitted that there was nothing to warrant this view, but in
spite of it he toiled on savagely, and the stooked sheaves rose before
him in lengthening golden ranks as he floundered with bowed shoulders
and busy arms through the crackling stubble. The soil beneath the straw
was dry and parched, and the dust which rose from it crept into his eyes
and nostrils. Now and then he gasped, but he worked on with no
slackening of effort, for that part of the crop was heavy and the
sheaves were falling thick and fast in the wake of the machine. At
length, however, it stopped at a corner, and Thorne straightened his
aching back when the man who drove it got down.
"She wants a drop of oil," he explained, and looking round him pointed
out across the prairie. "Seems as if Shafter was through with his
harvest, and I guess he has to sell. Some of the storekeepers have been
putting the screw on him."
Thorne gazed toward the spot he indicated and saw two or three teams and
wagons etched upon the horizon where a low rise ran up to meet the sky.
They were so far off that they appeared stationary, and it was only
when one of the binder's arms hid the first of them a moment or two
later that he could see they moved. Then as he watched the others a hot
fit of resentment and envy came upon him. It was clear that Shafter, who
had plowed unusually early, had cut and thrashed his grain, for stacking
is seldom attempted in that country, where very few farmers have any
money in hand and storekeepers generally look for payment once the crop
is in. In the latter case it is put on the market as soon as possible,
though now and then the last of it is hauled in on the bob-sleds across
the snow. Shafter, at least, could clear off his liabilities, and though
Thorne did not grudge the man this satisfaction, the sight of his loaded
wagons crawling slowly to the elevators was bitter to him. He could have
done what Shafter was doing, and so escaped from Nevis's clutches, had
he only been allowed a little longer time.
"When you're through with that oiling, we'll get on," he said harshly.
His companion made no answer, but climbed into the saddle and the binder
moved steadily along the edge of the grain until they came to the second
corner. Turning it, the driver looked out across a stretch of prairie
which a birch bluff on one hand of them had previously hidden. Then he
pulled up his team excitedly.
"Mavy!" he cried, "there's quite a lot of teams back yonder to the
eastward, beyond the creek!"
Thorne sprang up on the binder, for where he had been standing a cluster
of sheaves obscured his view. He saw that there undoubtedly were horses
on the sweep of grass in the distance. What was more, they were moving
in his direction.
"There's one wagon," declared his second companion. "I can't quite make
out the other things. If there was hay in the sloos still I'd say they
were mowers."
Thorne's heart seemed suddenly to leap, and the man in the saddle of the
machine burst into a hoarse laugh.
"Well," he said, "nobody would figure you'd been farming, unless you use
the scythe down in Ontario. They're sure binders!"
He turned and smote Thorne encouragingly upon the shoulder.
"Mavy, it's the Hunter crowd! Guess you're going to have no trouble
getting your crop in now!"
Thorne got down and leaned against the wheel of the binder. His face had
grown paler than usual, and he felt almost limp with the relief which
was too great for him to express. It was several moments before he broke
the silence.
"They can't be here for a while. I think I'll have a smoke."
His companion nodded sympathetically.
"That's what you want, Mavy. Then you'll be fresh for a hustle; and
we'll have to move quite lively to keep ahead of the Hunter boys.
Hunter's no use for slouches and he knows how to speed up the crowd he
hires."
He called to his horses, and the other man fell to work behind him when
the machine clattered on, but Thorne sat down among the sheaves. He
could now allow himself a brief relaxation, and for once his grip was
nerveless, for his heart was overfull. His cares had suddenly vanished,
and there was, he almost thought, victory in front of him. He had some
trouble in shredding the tobacco to fill his pipe, and when the
operation was accomplished he lay resting on one elbow watching the
teams draw nearer with a satisfaction which came near to overwhelming
him. By the time he had smoked the pipe out, however, he had grown a
little calmer, and rousing himself he stood up and walked out upon the
prairie to meet the newcomers. Hunter was driving a wagon in front of
them and he stopped his team when he was a few yards away.
"We'll soon clean that crop up," he declared cheerily when Thorne had
clambered to the seat beside him. "I've brought the smartest of the boys
and the newest machines along."
"Thanks," Thorne replied simply. "Just now I can't say anything more,
except that in one way I'm sorry you were able to come."
Hunter's face grew suddenly grave.
"I can believe it, Mavy. Had things been different it's quite likely I'd
have had to keep the boys at home; I was only sure that I was throwing
my time away yesterday. Anyway, I'm thankful that one hailed crop won't
clean me out."
He dismissed the subject with a wave of his hand.
"As a matter of fact," he added, "though I'd probably come in any case,
it was really Mrs. Hunter who sent me along."
"Mrs. Hunter!" ejaculated Thorne in what afterward occurred to him was
very tactless astonishment.
"Sure!" laughed his companion. "She had a visitor shortly before she
spoke to me about it, which may have had something to do with the thing,
but the possibility of the notion's having struck Miss Leigh first
wasn't any reason why I shouldn't come across. Mavy, it's my opinion
that you're a very lucky man."
"It's mine, too," Thorne answered with a light in his eyes. "Still, I
almost felt ashamed to admit it half an hour ago. The outlook seemed
very black to me just then."
Hunter made a sign of comprehension.
"Well," he said, "from what I've seen of her, I don't think Miss Leigh
would have fallen in with your point of view, though it was a very
natural one. It strikes me there's a good deal of courage and a capacity
for making the most of things in that girl. Anyway, there ought to be
considerably fewer difficulties in front of both of you when we get this
crop in; and that brings up another matter. The thrashers are leaving
Shafter's for Tom Jordan's place to-morrow. Hadn't you better write to
them right away and arrange for them to come along as soon as we're
ready?"
Thorne recognized that this would be judicious, particularly as he
expected that a neighbor who had spoken to him that morning would pass
close by in the next hour or two. The man, who lived near Jordan, would,
he felt confident, undertake to hand on the letter. A few minutes later
he got down and entered his dwelling while Hunter drove on toward the
grain. He found, however, that his ink had almost dried up, and when he
sat down to write it was difficult to fix his thoughts on what he had to
say. The relief he had experienced a little while ago had been great
enough partly to bewilder him, and some time had passed before he
produced a fairly intelligible letter. Putting it into his pocket, he
went out again, and stopped a moment or two just outside the threshold
with a sense of exultation that sent an almost painful thrill through
him as he saw that Hunter had already got to work.
Plodding teams and machines, marshaled in careful order, were advancing
in echelon through the grain, which melted away before them. Behind
each, bowed, bare-armed figures set up the flung-out sheaves, which rose
in ranks that now lengthened reassuringly fast. The still air was filled
with the sounds of a strenuous activity; the crackle of the stubble, the
rasp and tinkle of the knives, and the rustle of falling grain. Already
there was a wide gap, which extended while he gazed at it, bitten out of
one corner of the golden oblong. Along its indented edges the arms of
the binders whirled and gleamed, half-buried in yellow straw, through
which, as most of them were new, he caught odd glimpses of streaks of
flaring vermilion and harshest green, while the dull blue garments and
bronzed skin of the men who moved on stooping showed against the sweep
of ochre and coppery hues. It was a medley of vivid color and a blending
of stirring sound, and the jaded man forgot his aches and weariness as
he gazed. The crop he had despaired of reaping was falling fast before
his eyes.
Then he saw that his own team was leading, and there was only one figure
struggling with the sheaves behind it. In another moment it became
apparent that the man in the saddle was waving to him, and he set off at
a run. When he reached the grain one of his companions glanced at him
reproachfully.
"See where that binder's got?" he grumbled. "We went in first, but
though I've most pulled my arms off they're crowding right on top of us
with the next Hunter team. Do you want the boys to put it on us that we
can't keep ahead of them?"
Thorne saw that the team of the following binder was very close behind,
and that a wide strip of stubble strewed with fallen sheaves, which had
accumulated in his absence, divided him and his companion from the
machine that belonged to him.
"Well," he said with a cheerful laugh, "there's a good deal to pull up,
but it has to be done."
They set about it vigorously, and drew away foot by foot from the men
behind. Thorne had toiled hard before, but now he felt that he could do
half as much again. After all, the grim courage of the forlorn hope
provides a feebler animus than the thrill of victory. At length,
however, his companion turned to him with a gasping expostulation.
"I guess you have me beat," he exclaimed. "We'll hook Jim off the binder
and put you on instead. I'll own up I'd rather have him along with me
just now."
They made the change, and Thorne contrived to drive a little faster than
the other man had done. Hunter's men could not let him draw too far
ahead, and everywhere the effort grew tenser still. Nobody objected
when, as the supper hour drew near, Hunter said that since the days were
shortening fast they would go on until dark fell before they made the
meal, instead of working afterward. Still, as the time slipped by, a man
here and there drew his belt tighter or stopped a moment to straighten
his aching back, and by degrees the horses moved more and more slowly
amid the falling grain. The clatter of the binders grew less insistent,
there were halts to oil or tighten something now and then; and at last,
when all the great plain was growing dim, it was with relief that the
men desisted when Hunter called to them. He and Thorne loosed their
teams, and the latter looked uneasy when they walked toward the house
together.
"There's a thing that only struck me a few minutes ago, and I'm rather
troubled about it," he confessed. "The boys have worked hard enough
already without being set to making flapjacks and cooking their supper,
while I really don't know how I'm to tide over breakfast to-morrow."
Hunter laughed.
"That's not going to prove much of a difficulty, particularly as it's
one Mrs. Hunter has provided for. As it happens, Hall looked in on us
last night, and I gathered that he hadn't a very high opinion of your
cookery and catering."
A minute or two later they came out from behind the barn into view of
the house and Thorne saw that a bountiful meal was already spread out on
the grass in front of it. A man, whose absence he had not noticed, was
carrying a kettle and a frying-pan out of the doorway. It was the climax
of a day of unexpected happenings and vanishing troubles, and when he
looked at Hunter he found it difficult to speak. The latter, however,
laughed.
"Mavy," he said, "you sit right down yonder. Supper's ready, and the
boys are waiting."
Thorne took his place among the others, who ate in such determined
fashion that in a very few minutes there was nothing left of the meal.
Then two or three of them gathered up the plates, and the others, lying
down on the grass, took out their pipes. In the meanwhile it had grown
almost dark, though a few pale streaks of saffron and green lingered low
upon the prairie's western verge. The long rows of sheaves stood out
dimly upon the stubble, but the standing crop had faded into a blurred
and shadowy mass, one edge of which alone showed with a certain
distinctness above the sweep of the darkening plain. Near the house,
however, a little fire which somebody had lighted--probably because
there was not room for all the cooking utensils on Thorne's
stove--burned redly between the two birch logs, and its flickering glow
wavered across the recumbent figures of the men.
Some of them lay propped up on one elbow, some had stretched themselves
out full-length among the grass, and now and then a brown face or
uncovered bronzed arm stood out in the uncertain radiance and vanished
again. The men spoke in low voices, lazily, wearied with the day's toil,
though at irregular intervals a hoarse laugh broke out, and once or
twice the howl of a coyote came up faint and hollow out of the waste of
prairie. A little apart from the others, Thorne and Hunter sat with
their shoulders against the front of the house, talking quietly.
"I'll see you through with the hauling in," Hunter promised. "We'll
start right away as soon as the thrashers can give us a load, and in my
opinion you should have a reasonable surplus after clearing off Nevis's
claim."
"Yes," assented Thorne with deep but languid content; "it looks almost
as if another moderately good harvest would wipe out my last obligation
and set me solidly on my feet. Once I'm free of Nevis, I don't
anticipate any trouble with the other men. So long as they get their
interest they'll hold me up for their own sakes."
"That's how it strikes me," Hunter agreed. "They don't run their
business on Nevis's lines; which reminds me that I picked up a little
information that suggested that he might have to make a change, when I
was over at Brandon a week or two ago. I may say that as I had reasons
for believing that the man hadn't a great deal of money of his own I've
been rather astonished at the way he has gone on from one thing to
another during the last few years, until Farquhar told me something
which seemed to supply the explanation. He got it from Grantly, who
declares that Brand, of Winnipeg, has been backing Nevis all along.
Well, I spent an evening with one of the big milling people in Brandon,
and he told me it was generally believed that Brand has been severely
hit by the fall in wheat. It turns out that he and a few others were at
the bottom of the late rally, which, however, only made things worse for
them. The point is that if Brand is getting shaky he'll probably call in
any money he has supplied to Nevis."
"Nobody would be sorry if he pulled him down altogether."
"It's almost too much to expect," replied Hunter, dismissing the subject
with a wave of his hand. "By the way, I had a look round your house
after supper, and it's my opinion that you only want a wagon-load of
dressed lumber and a couple of carpenters for two or three days to make
the place quite comfortable. A few simple furnishings won't cost you
much, and you can, of course, add to them as you go on."
Thorne realized that this statement covered a question, and he smiled in
a manner that indicated unalloyed satisfaction.
"I intend to consult with Alison about ordering them as soon as the
thrashing's over."
His companion rose and stretched himself.
"Well," he yawned, "if we're to start at sunup we had better get off to
rest."
He turned to the others.
"You'll find your blankets in the wagon, boys, and you can camp in the
house. If you're particular about a soft bed there's hay in the barn."