A PARTNERSHIP IS FORMED
Not until morning was the full result of the tornado revealed on and
about Sunnyside. Most of the buildings being comparatively new, Hiram
found that few had suffered. The sheds were under the break of the
hill, anyway; therefore he looked for little misfortune there.
The silo had suffered despite the efforts they had made to stay it with
the wire ropes. It had a decided list to the east and was no longer set
true upon its cement foundation. The neglect of the carpenters in not
staying it firmly before the storm came was a matter that would have to
be settled between them and Mr. Bronson. Hiram was glad it did not come
under his jurisdiction.
The young farm manager had enough trouble of his own. The heavy rain
which had preceded the gale of wind had beaten some of the corn on the
lowlands almost flat to the ground. It was about two feet high and the
sun of Sunday, the day following the tempest, began to revive the corn.
But it was evident that it would be impossible to get into those fields
with the cultivators for several days. At this stage of the corn crop
continual cultivation was necessary. Hiram had always followed a system
of cultivation not altogether approved of by corn raisers in this
vicinity.
All cultivation, Hiram had previously held, should not be shallow. It
was all right to use a two- or three-horse hoe as most of the corn-belt
farmers do, until the plant is half-leg high. But after that Hiram
believed in using the fluke harrow.
"Now we've seen something of what can be done to a field of corn by
a big wind and rain. If such another baby tornado comes in August or
September," Hiram said to Orrin Post, "and knocks the corn down, it
never will recover unless the area of rootage is very wide and strong.
"In the South they plow corn in July to hold up the stalk through
heavy winds and rains; but that leaves the land in bad shape for the
following tillage. I like to use a fluke harrow and cultivate deep.
Tear right through the small roots and rip them apart. That more than
doubles the root-system and finally gives the plant a hold on the soil
that will enable it to stand up under almost any kind of blow and
rain."
"Shallow and frequent cultivation seems to be the rule around here,"
Orrin remarked.
"Yes. And Mr. Turner tells me that only year before last he lost
fifteen acres in one piece by the corn being knocked down in a big wind
and hail storm just as it was silking. However, our cultivating is
going awfully slow. I don't know but I shall have to get Mr. Bronson
to furnish one of those three-horse hoes for next year, if I am really
going to make a corn crop."
This conversation was carried on while Hiram and Orrin were driving
over to the pasture behind Jerry, and carrying with them a tub of salt
for the cattle. Salting the cattle is always a Sunday job on the farm;
but as a usual thing Hiram went to church before going to the pasture.
They had got up too late on the morning after the tornado, however, to
drive to the church service. It was only high noon when they came to
the pasture gate.
"I don't see that spotted yearling," Orrin said, as he climbed down to
open the gate and the herd began to turn toward them. "He's usually
right at the head of the bunch."
"That red one with the crooked horn is missing, too," Hiram said, "I am
afraid something has happened, Orrin."
"Oh, they've just strayed away," said Post cheerfully. "Don't be
worried."
However, after the herd had come up and been counted and they found
that four were missing, even Orrin acknowledged that there was reason
for anxiety. They salted the young stock and then left Jerry to graze
while they beat the pasture brush and the woods adjoining in search of
the four missing animals.
There was a plain path of the tornado's passing in this patch of wood.
Several trees were uprooted and one huge forest monarch that had been
struck by lightning years before and had stood dead and stripped of
bark, had been snapped off at the butt.
Under its heavy and sprawling limbs lay the four young steers, their
backs broken by the weight of the fallen tree.
"There lies a hundred dollars profit, as sure as you live, Orrin,"
Hiram Strong declared. "I hate to tell Mr. Bronson that. And look at
that silo, too."
"Don't worry," said the other, but looking grimly at the dead cattle.
"You did not bring the wind, I should hope. And that silo isn't your
business, either."
Hiram, nevertheless, was much disturbed by the unfortunate accident.
Mr. Bronson and Lettie came up to Sunnyside that afternoon. The loss
of the young cattle was, of course, irreparable; but the owner of
Sunnyside declared he would demand that Dolan and MacComb straighten
up the silo and make it firm before the next wind.
"Maybe I would have been wiser had I built the silo of cement, after
all," he said to his young farm manager. "It is hard to know sometimes
where real economy begins. 'Penny wise and pound foolish' is not my
usual failing--
"How about your log drains, Hiram? That was another economy."
"You ought to have seen the water spurting out of the drains after that
big rain last night. Come down there and have a look now."
He included Lettie in this invitation and hoped that she would come;
but the girl tossed her head, although it was with a smile that she
refused.
"That is all I hear--farming," she said. "Now that I have finished
school I think papa ought to take me to some summer resort this year.
I'm tired of Plympton."
"Wait till you are grown up, Lettie," said Mr. Bronson carelessly.
"If I'm not grown up yet, when shall I be?" asked the girl. "I'll soon
be an old maid like Delia Pringle."
Mr. Bronson and Hiram laughed at this statement. But the latter felt
that Lettie was more in earnest than her father considered. St. Beris
seemed to develop its pupils rather early. Hiram was glad that Sister
did not attend that school--not, however, that he really compared
Sister to Lettie Bronson in any way!
However, Lettie Bronson went over to call on Miss Pringle while her
father and Hiram started down the road toward Battick's place. From
every drain the water was still pouring into the roadside ditch, but of
course not in the volume it had the night before.
Mr. Bronson cheered up immediately when he saw this.
"And not a puddle in sight on the whole twenty acres! Well, Hiram, it
looks as though you had done a good job here--and saved me money. We
won't worry over the dead yearlings. That you certainly could not help.
The tree you tell about must have fallen in the midst of the herd. It
is fortunate no more of them were killed.
"One of my neighbors near Plympton had his barn torn to pieces last
night and all his cattle killed. Who else suffered around here?"
"I am not sure that anybody suffered much damage by the tornado, but
Yancey Battick lost his stack of wheat--and it was a wonder of a stack!"
"Did he have much?"
"It was the handsomest wheat I ever saw," Hiram told him earnestly. "I
want to show you a sample of it that he gave me, Mr. Bronson. I think
there would have been thirty-five or forty bushels of it when it was
thrashed."
"Humph! At the price wheat is going to be--"
"He has got a new variety and had raised it for seed," Hiram explained.
When they got back to the farm buildings he showed his employer the
heads of grain Battick had given him. They shelled out the wheat. Every
grain of it was perfect, with the tiny red stripe upon one side. Hiram
watched Mr. Bronson's face with interest as the big farmer examined the
kernels of wheat.
"My goodness, Hiram!" exclaimed the man at last, "do you mean to say
that Battick had bred this wheat--that it is all alike?"
"I have every reason to believe it is all fully as good as that in your
hand and true to type."
"And he's lost it all?"
"He has lost his crop for this year. He believes the stack was set on
fire."
"No!"
"Yes, sir. And you cannot blame him after what he has been through. Let
me tell you, Mr. Bronson."
They sat down and Hiram related the details of the story Yancey Battick
had told him, as well as of his own adventures with the strange man.
"Well," was Mr. Bronson's first comment, "I had an idea that Battick
was not quite right in his head. But I guess he is sane enough. And an
educated man, too, isn't he?"
"I should not wonder if he were college-bred; only he has grown
careless of speech. And he certainly is a crank."
"Who could blame him?" muttered Mr. Bronson thoughtfully.
They discussed the matter at some length, and gradually Hiram got
around to a plan that had formed in the back of his mind since he had
learned so much about Yancey Battick's new wheat.
Hiram had come by this time to know his employer pretty well. Not only
was Mr. Stephen Bronson a money-maker and deeply interested in any new
agricultural idea, but he was the sort of business man who is always
willing to take a legitimate chance.
If Mr. Bronson had a choice of making a sure ten dollars and a possible
hundred dollars, he would naturally take the long chance. It was
characteristic of him to be immediately interested by the story of
Yancey Battick's wonderful new wheat. And when Hiram pointed out a way
by which Battick, Bronson and Hiram himself might form a partnership
to breed and exploit the new variety of grain without taking any
seedhouse into the scheme, Mr. Bronson was eager for it.
"If you can make Battick see it, I'll find all the cash necessary. A
seed firm would want to hog it--they always do. Battick must know that.
If he's got a good grain and we can introduce it ourselves to the grain
farmers farther west, we'll all make money," Mr. Bronson declared with
enthusiasm.
That very week Hiram arranged a meeting and the three discussed the
plan fully in the shaded dooryard of the old Pringle homestead. The
loss of his whole crop--a possible forty and surely thirty bushels of
the grain--had vastly discouraged Yancey Battick. The sensible way in
which Hiram had approached him before introducing Mr. Bronson into the
matter encouraged the unfortunate wheat breeder to look favorably upon
the assistance that Mr. Bronson was able and willing to lend.
Whether the wheat stack had been set on fire maliciously or had been
destroyed by accident, as Hiram had pointed out, the fact remained that
if the crop had been properly handled the grain would not have been
destroyed.
In the first place, the wheat had not been allowed to cure long enough
in the shock before being stacked. Battick admitted that he had only
stacked it because he dared not leave the shocks in the field for long.
He had camped in the field with his gun every night until he built the
stack at the barn.
In fact, to conserve the wheat and handle it in the best shape, it
should have been cured in the shock and then thrashed immediately,
afterwards being spread in a proper granary. There was no granary on
the old Pringle place and the rats and mice were a pest, as Hiram had
seen the first time he had met Yancey Battick.
In fact, taking it all around Battick had tried to do the impossible.
He had neither capital nor land nor housing facilities to develop and
grow a sufficiently large crop of the new wheat to make its sale for
seed a profitable venture.
"You tell me that you lost everything on your Mortgage Lifter Oats
undertaking," Hiram said to him. "So far you have tried to keep
secret your new wheat, and you have lost out. If your neighbors have
not robbed you, and if the burning of the wheat stack was not a case
of incendiarism, it was a sure thing that the rats and the mice are
against you. I do not believe that one man alone can handle such an
undertaking.
"Suppose you make a contract with Mr. Bronson for two years, during
which the wheat can be properly developed and a big crop raised. You
furnish such seed as you have left--half to be planted this fall, the
remainder to be held against chance of accident. Mr. Bronson will
supply the land, the fertilizer, the tillage, paying for the harvesting
and thrashing and storage, as well as for any guard that may be needed
if trouble should arise. You'll make more under the terms of such a
partnership than you would if you made the crop entirely by yourself
and sold out to a seedsman."
"And where do you come in, Mr. Strong?" Battick had asked.
"If you go fifty-fifty with Mr. Bronson on the final profit obtained
from the exploitation of the wheat, I'll get my share from Mr.
Bronson," Hiram said.
The proposal was most thoroughly thrashed out between the three, and in
the end an agreement following closely Hiram Strong's suggestion was
drawn up and signed by Yancey Battick and Mr. Bronson. Hiram being a
minor, he could not enter into the partnership agreement; but he had
his own contract with the owner of Sunnyside Farm by which he was to
have a half interest in Mr. Bronson's share of the profits from the
wheat transaction, if profits there were.
And, under fairly favorable conditions, from what he had already seen
of Yancey Battick's new wheat, the young manager of Sunnyside Farm
was confident the profit for all would be large. He already had five
hundred dollars in the bank when he came to Sunnyside. From his wages
as farm manager he expected to lay aside at least two hundred and fifty
dollars each quarter while his contract lasted.
And for every dollar of these savings to which he looked forward, Hiram
Strong had a definite use.