A DESCENT
When the party arrived at the ranch, the girl hostess took Mrs. Blake
to rest in the clean, simply furnished room provided for the visitors.
Blake, after carrying in their trunk single-handed, went to look
around at the ranch buildings in company with Ashton.
On returning to the house, the two found Knowles and Gowan in the
parlor with the ladies. Isobel had already introduced them to Mrs.
Blake and also to her son. That young man was sprawled, face up, in
the cowman's big hands, crowing and valiantly clutching at his bristly
mustache.
Gowan sat across from him, perfectly at ease in the presence of the
city lady. But, with his characteristic lack of humor, he was unmoved
by the laughable spectacle presented by his employer and the baby, and
his manner was both reserved and watchful.
At sight of Blake, Isobel called to her father in feigned alarm: "Look
out, Daddy! Better stop hazing that yearling. Here comes his sire."
Knowles gave the baby back to its half-fearful mother, and rose to
greet his guest with hospitable warmth: "Howdy, Mr. Blake! I'm
downright glad to meet you. Hope you've found things comfortable and
homelike."
"Too much so," asserted Blake, his eyes twinkling. "We came out
expecting to rough-it."
"Well, your lady won't know the difference," remarked Knowles.
"You're quite mistaken, Daddy, really," interposed his daughter. "She
and Mr. Blake were wrecked in Africa and lived on roast leopards.
We'll have to feed them on mountain lions and bobcats."
"If you mean that, Miss Chuckie," put in Gowan, "I can get a bobcat in
time for dinner tomorrow."
The girl led the general outburst of laughter over this serious
proposal. "Oh! oh! Kid! You'll be the death of me!--Yet I sent you a
joke-book last Christmas!"
"Couldn't see anything funny in it," replied the puncher. "I haven't
lost it, though. It came from you."
To cover the girl's blush at this blunt disclosure of sentiment, Mrs.
Blake somewhat formally introduced her husband to the puncher. He
shook Blake's hand with like formality and politeness. But as their
glances met, his gray eyes shone with the same cold suspicion with
which he had regarded Ashton at their first meeting. Before that look
the engineer's friendly eyes hardened to disks of burnished steel,
and his big fist released its cordial grip of the other's small, bony
hand. He gave back hostility for hostility with the readiness of a
born fighter. Gowan was the first to look away.
The incident passed so swiftly that only Knowles observed the outflash
of enmity. His words indicated that he had anticipated the puncher's
attitude. He addressed Blake seriously: "Kid has been with us ever
since he was a youngster and has always made my interests his own.
Chuckie has been telling us what you said about putting through any
project you once started."
Blake nodded. "Yes. That is why I suggested to Miss Knowles that she
call off the agreement under which I came on this visit. We shall
gladly pay board, and I'll merely knock around; or, if you prefer,
we'll leave you and go back tomorrow morning."
"No, Daddy, no! we can't allow our guests to leave, when they've only
just come!" protested Isobel.
"As for any talk about board," added her father, "you ought to know
better, Mr. Blake."
"My apology!" admitted Blake. "I've been living in the East."
"That explains," agreed the cowman. "Even as far east as Denver--I've
got a sister there; lives up beyond the Capitol. But I've talked with
other men there from over this way. They all agree you might as well
look for good cow pasture behind a sheep drive as for hospitality in a
city. Sometimes you can get what you want, and all times you're sure
to get a lot of attention you don't want--if you have money to
spend."
"That's true. But about my going ahead here?" inquired Blake. "Say the
word, and I put irrigation on the shelf throughout our visit."
Knowles shook his head thoughtfully. "No, I reckon Chuckie is right.
We'd best learn just how we stand."
"What if I work out a practical project? There's any amount of good
land on your mesa. The lay of it and the altitude ought to make it
ideal for fruit. If I see that the proposition is feasible, I shall be
bound to put water on all of your range that I can. I am an
engineer,--I cannot let good land and water go to waste."
"The land isn't going to waste," replied Knowles. "It's the best
cattle range in this section, and it's being used for the purpose
Nature intended. As for the water, Chuckie has figured out there isn't
more than three thousand acre feet of flood waters that can be
impounded off the watershed above us. That wouldn't pay for building
any kind of a dam."
"And the devil himself couldn't pump the water up out of Deep Canyon,"
put in Gowan.
"The devil hasn't much use for science," said Blake. "It has almost
put him out of business. So he is not apt to be well up on modern
engineering."
"Then you think you can do what the devil can't?" demanded Knowles.
"I can try. Unless you wish to call off the deal, I shall ride around
tomorrow and look over the country. Maybe that will be sufficient to
show me there is no chance for irrigation, or, on the contrary, I may
have to run levels and do some figuring."
"Then perhaps you will know by tomorrow night?" exclaimed Isobel.
"Yes."
"Well, that's something," said the cowman. "I'll take you out first
thing in the morning.--Lafe, show Mr. Blake the wash bench. There goes
the first gong."
When, a little later, all came together again at the supper table,
nothing more was said about the vexed question of irrigation. Isobel
had made no changes in her table arrangements other than to have a
plate laid for Mrs. Blake beside her father's and another for Blake
beside her own.
The employes were too accustomed to Miss Chuckie to be embarrassed by
the presence of another lady, and Blake put himself on familiar terms
with them by his first remarks. If his wealthy high-bred wife was
surprised to find herself seated at the same table with common
workmen, she betrayed no resentment over the situation. Her perfect
breeding was shown in the unaffected simplicity of her manner, which
was precisely the same to the roughest man present as to her hostess.
Even had there been any indications of uncongeniality, they must have
been overcome by the presence of Thomas Herbert Vincent Leslie Blake.
The most unkempt, hard-bitten bachelor present gazed upon the majesty
of babyhood with awed reverence and delight. The silent Jap
interrupted his serving to fetch a queer rattle of ivory balls carved
out one within the other. This he cleansed with soap, peroxide and hot
water, in the presence of the honorable lady mother, before presenting
it to her infant with much smiling and hissing insuckings of breath.
After supper all retired at an early hour, out of regard for the
weariness of Mrs. Blake.
When she reappeared, late the next morning, she learned that Knowles,
Gowan and her husband had ridden off together hours before. But Isobel
and Ashton seemed to have nothing else to do than to entertain the
mother and child. Mrs. Blake donned one of the girl's divided skirts
and took her first lesson in riding astride. There was no sidesaddle
at the ranch, but there was a surefooted old cow pony too wise and
spiritless for tricks, and therefore safe even for a less experienced
horsewoman than was Mrs. Blake.
Knowles and Gowan and the engineer returned so late that they found
all the others at the supper table. Blake's freshly sunburnt face was
cheerful. Gowan's expression was as noncommittal as usual. But the
cowman's forehead was furrowed with unrelieved suspense.
"Oh, Mr. Blake!" exclaimed Isobel. "Don't tell us your report is
unfavorable."
"Afraid I can't say, as yet," he replied. "We've covered the ground
pretty thoroughly for miles along High Mesa and Deep Canyon. If the
annual precipitation here is what I estimate it from what your father
tells me, it would be possible to put in a drainage and reservoir
system that would store four thousand acre feet. Except as an
auxiliary system, however, it would cost too much to be practicable.
As for Deep Canyon--" He turned to his wife. "Jenny, whatever else
happens, I must get you up to see that canyon. It's almost as grand and
in some ways even more wonderful than the Canyon of the Colorado."
"Then I must see it, by all means," responded Mrs. Blake. "I shall
soon be able to ride up to it, Isobel assures me."
"Within a few days," said the girl. "But, Mr. Blake, pardon me--How
about the water in the canyon? You surely see no way to lift it out
over the top of High Mesa?"
"I'm sorry, but I can't even guess what can be done until I have run a
line of levels and found the depth of the canyon. I tried to estimate
it by dropping in rocks and timing them, but we couldn't see them
strike bottom."
"A line of levels? Will it take you long?"
"Maybe a week; possibly more. If I had a transit as well as my level,
it would save time. However, I can make out with the chain and compass
I brought."
"Mr. Blake is to start running his levels in the morning," said
Knowles. "Lafe, I'd like you to help him as his rodman, if you have no
objections. As you've been an engineer, you can help him along faster
than Kid.--You said one would do, Mr. Blake; but if you need more,
take all the men you want. The sooner this thing is settled, the
better it will suit me."
"The sooner the better, Daddy!" agreed Isobel, "that is, if our guests
promise to not hurry away."
"We shall stay at least a month, if you wish us to," said Mrs. Blake.
"Two months would be too short!--And the sooner we are over with this
uncertainty--Lafe, you'll do your utmost to help Mr. Blake, won't
you?"
"Yes, indeed; anything I can," eagerly responded Ashton.
Gowan's face darkened at sight of the smile with which the girl
rewarded the tenderfoot. Yet instead of sulking, he joined in the
evening's entertainment of the guests with a zeal that agreeably
surprised everyone. His guitar playing won genuine praise from the
Blakes, though both were sophisticated and critical music lovers.
Somewhat earlier than usual he rose to go, with the excuse that he
wished to consult Knowles about some business with the owner of the
adjoining range. The cowman went out with him, and did not return. An
hour later Ashton took reluctant leave of Isobel, and started for the
bunkhouse. Half way across he was met by his employer, who stopped
before him.
"Everybody turning in, Lafe?"
"Not at my suggestion, though," replied Ashton.
"Reckon not. Mr. Blake and his lady are old friends of yours, I take
it."
"Mrs. Blake is," stated Ashton, with a touch of his former arrogance.
"We made mud-pies together, in a hundred thousand dollar dooryard."
"Humph!" grunted Knowles. "And her husband?"
The darkness hid Ashton's face, but his voice betrayed the sudden
upwelling of his bitterness: "I never heard of him until he--until a
little over three years ago. I wish to Heaven he hadn't taken part in
that bridge contest!"
"How's that?" asked Knowles in a casual tone.
"Nothing--nothing!" Ashton hastened to disclaim. "You haven't been
talking with Miss Chuckie about me, have you, Mr. Knowles?"
"No. Why?"
"It was only that I explained to her how I came to be ruined--to lose
my fortune. You see, the circumstances are such that I cannot very
well say anything against Blake; yet he was the cause--it was owing to
something he did that I lost all--everything--millions! Curse him!"
"You've appeared friendly enough towards him," remarked Knowles.
"Yes, I--I promised Miss Chuckie to try to forget the past. But when I
think of what I lost, all because of him--"
"So-o!" considered the cowman. "Maybe there's more in what Kid says
than I thought. He's been cross-questioning Blake all day. You know
how little Kid is given to gab. But from the time we started off he
kept after Blake like he was cutting out steers at the round-up."
"Blake isn't the kind you could get to tell anything against himself,"
asserted Ashton.
"Well, that may be. All his talk today struck me as being straightforward
and outspoken. But Kid has been drawing inferences. He keeps hammering
at it that Blake must be in thick with his father-in-law, and that all
millionaires round-up their money in ways that would make a rustler go
off and shoot himself."
"Business is business," replied Ashton with all his old cynicism.
"I'll not say that H. V. Leslie is crooked, but I never knew of his
coming out of a deal second best."
"Well, at any rate, it's white of Blake to tell us beforehand what he
intends to do if he sees a chance of a practical project."
"Has he told you everything?" scoffed Ashton.
"How about his offer to drop the whole matter and not go into it at
all?" rejoined Knowles.
Ashton hesitated to reply. For one thing, he was momentarily
nonplused, and, for another, the Blakes had treated him as a
gentleman. But a fresh upwelling of bitterness dulled his conscience
and sharpened his wits.
"It may have been to throw you off your guard," he said. "Blake is
deep, and he has had old Leslie to coach him ever since he married
Genevieve. He could have laid his plans,--looked over the ground, and
found out just what are your rights here,--all without your suspecting
him."
"Well, I'm not so sure--"
"Have you told him what lands you have deeds to?"
"No, but if he knows as much about the West as I figure he does, he
can guess it. Fence every swallow of get-at-able water to be found on
my range this time of year, and you won't have to dig a posthole off
of land I hold in fee simple. Plum Creek sinks just below where Dry
Fork junctions."
"But you can't have _all_ the water?" exclaimed Ashton incredulously.
"Yes, every drop to be found outside Deep Canyon this time of year.
There's my seven and a half mile string of quarter-sections blanketing
Plum Creek from the springs to down below Dry Fork, and five
quarter-sections covering all the waterholes. That makes up five
sections. A bunch of tenderfeet came in here, years ago, and preempted
all the quarter-sections with water on them. Got their patents from
the government. Then the Utes stampeded them clean out of the country,
and I bought up their titles at a fair figure."
"And you own even that splendid pool up where I had my camp?"
"Everything wet on this range that a cow or hawss can get to, this
time of year."
Ashton considered, and advised craftily: "Don't tell him this. Does
Miss Chuckie know it?"
"She knows I have five sections, and that most of it is on Plum Creek.
I don't think anything has ever been said to her about the waterholes.
But why not tell Blake?"
"Don't you see? Even if he finds a way to get at the water in Deep
Canyon, he will first have to bore his tunnel. He and his construction
gang must have water to drink and for their engines while they are
carrying out his plans. You can lie low, and, when the right time
comes, get out an injunction against their trespassing on your land."
"Say, that's not a bad idea. The best I could figure was that they
might need one of my waterholes for a reservoir site. But why not call
him when he first takes a hand?" asked Knowles.
"No, you should not show your cards until you have to," replied
Ashton. "With all Leslie's money against you, it might be hard to get
your injunction if they knew of your plans. But if you wait until they
have their men, machinery and materials on the ground, you will have
them where they must buy you out at your own terms."
"By--James!" commented Knowles. "Talk about business sharps!"
"I was in Leslie's office for a time," explained Ashton. "Your
interests are Miss Chuckie's interests. I'm for her--first, last, and
all the time."
"Um-m-m. Then I guess I can count on you as sure as on Gowan."
"You can. I am going to try my best to win your daughter, Mr. Knowles.
She's a lady--the loveliest girl I ever met."
"No doubt about that. What's more, she's got grit and brains. That's
why I tell you now, as I've told Kid, it's for her to decide on the
man she's going to make happy. If he's square and white, that's all I
ask."
"About my helping Blake with his levels," Ashton rather hastily
changed the subject. "I am in your employ--and so is he, for that
matter. Don't you think I have a right to keep you posted on all his
plans?"
"Well--yes. But he as much as says he will tell them himself."
"Perhaps he will, and perhaps he won't, Mr. Knowles. I've told you
what Leslie is like; and Blake is his son-in-law."
"Well, I'm not so sure. You and Kid, between you, have shaken my
judgment of the man. It can't do any harm to watch him, and I'll be
obliged to you for doing it. If it comes to a fight against him and
the millions of backing he has, I want a fair deal and--But, Lord!
what if we're making all this fuss over nothing? It doesn't stand to
reason that there's any way to get the water out of Deep Canyon."
"Wait a week or so," cautioned Ashton. "In my opinion, Blake already
sees a possibility."