A TERRIBLE EXPERIMENT
“What shall we do today?” asked Phil, as they sat down to breakfast on
the morning following the completion of their irrigation system.
“_I_ am going back to Chikau. Don’t dare stay away another day,”
returned Andy.
“I was afraid you would say that,” exclaimed Ted. “It has been mighty
good of you to work with us as long as you have. But—”
“It certainly has,” interrupted the elder boy. “Some day, we may be able
to do more than merely express our gratitude.”
“Oh, Andy knows that without our telling him,” declared Ted. “What I
want to know is whether he thinks we should go over to Waterville and
file our claims or wait awhile.”
“You must do that very soon,” responded the agent, “but if I were you, I
would clear some of the other land and seed it down first.” Then, noting
the disappointment that appeared in the boys’ faces, he added, in
explanation: “Knowing the land agent, I should not be surprised if you
had some trouble in getting him to file your entry. Therefore, if you
can say that you have not only built an irrigation system but have
seeded down several plots of ground, you can the better prove your good
faith.”
At the suggestion of difficulty in filing their claim, the young
homesteaders looked at each other in dismay.
“But why should the land agent refuse to accept our entry?” demanded
Phil. “I think you should have told us before we laid out so much money
and work.”
“Now don’t get excited,” soothed Andy. “I just wanted to warn you that
you might be the better prepared to meet any objections Simmons, the
registrar, might raise.”
“But why should he raise any?” persisted the elder boy, repeating his
question.
“Well, for one reason, he has had an eye on E 1 himself. Only the law
forbidding a land agent from taking up homesteads has prevented his
doing so.”
“Couldn’t he get some one to take it up for him?” asked Ted.
“He has tried to, but it didn’t work because Si exposed the fraud.”
“You don’t seem to like Simmons,” mused Phil.
“Oh, I’m not the only one who doesn’t. Si Hopkins is on his trail, and
when he gets him there will be a new land agent at Waterville. That’s
one reason I want you to wait about filing your claim—there may be a new
agent any day.”
“How would we know if there were?” asked Ted.
“I’d tell you,” said Andy, with a smile. “So, don’t ask any more
questions,” he added, noting the facial expressions of his youthful
companions. “Just clear some land, seed it down. When you have done
that, if I haven’t been over to see you, come to Chikau and I will
advise you about going to Waterville.”
Vainly did the young homesteaders seek to learn more concerning the
present land agent and the reasons for a possible change in the office,
but though their questions were ingenuous, Andy parried them, changing
the trend of the conversation at every opportunity.
“I’ll warrant if there is any change, it will be Andy Howe we find in
the Land Office,” suddenly declared Ted.
Though this suggestion caused both boys to watch their companion
closely, beyond casting a quick glance at the younger, Andy made no
comment, merely announcing that he would see them within a few days, and
after saying “goodbye” started back to his station.
“That was a shrewd guess of yours, Ted. Whatever put it into your head?”
questioned his brother, as they went to select their tools for clearing
the land.
“Oh, he seemed so bent on our waiting, I knew there must be some good
reason. I hope he gets the appointment. Just the same, before we lay out
any more money or work, _I_ think we ought to find out about our entry
being accepted.”
“So do I, but speaking of money makes me think, where are you carrying
ours?”
“In my pocket-book, in the bag about my waist.”
“Seems to me, it would be safer to hide it in the hut. You might lose
the bag, you know.”
Though he protested that he would not, Phil insisted, and they finally
put the pocket-book, from which they took out all over one hundred
dollars, dividing the amount between them, in an old tin can, burying it
in the ground under their bed of boughs.
With axes and grub-hoes, the young homesteaders set forth to clear the
first field touched by their irrigation system.
At Ted’s suggestion they began on the most densely brushed section, that
they might do the hardest work while their ardour was most keen.
With a will they chopped and “grubbed,” but the headway they made was
scarcely noticeable.
“Here we’ve been working two hours, my hands are so blistered I can
hardly hold my axe or hoe, and you wouldn’t know we had been working at
all,” exclaimed Phil, in disgust stepping out to survey the result.
“Looks as though some animal had been rooting for fun.”
“Oh, come on. Wait till we’ve been working a week and then see what a
change there will be,” returned his brother.
“A week?” expostulated Phil. “At that rate it will be fall before we
have anything planted. There must be some easier way than the one we’re
taking. I have it. We are a couple of ‘boneheads.’ We’ll use dynamite.
We can blow more brush out in five minutes than we can clear as we have
been doing in a day. Come on back to camp. You know more about handling
it than I do.”
“But they only use dynamite to blow out rocks or tree stumps,” protested
Ted.
“Then it will surely blow out brush.”
“Yes, and a lot of good earth, too.”
“Well, let’s try it anyhow. We’ll only use a little at first. If it
works all right, we can use more.”
Though expressing his doubts as to the success of the experiment, the
younger boy finally yielded, and, going to camp, they returned with
three sticks of the explosive, caps, and fuses.
Making a hole among the roots of a particularly dense growth of scrub
bushes, Ted planted a stick of dynamite, placed the cap, attached the
fuse, and went into another clump of brush some two rods distant, to
repeat the operation, for it was his purpose to explode the three
charges at the same time by way of experiment to learn how much
territory they would clear.
Before he had more than made the hole for the second stick, however,
Phil shouted:
“How do I stop the fuse, Ted? I’ve lighted it.”
“Stamp on it,” Ted yelled, springing to his feet.
But before he could part the bushes to see what his brother had done, he
heard a frantic scream “Run!” followed by the crackling and snapping of
branches as the elder boy fled from the scene.
Realizing the danger that the other two sticks of dynamite might be
exploded by the force of the detonation, Ted hurriedly flung them with
all his might in the direction opposite to that from which Phil’s voice
had come, then bent low, and dashed through the brush.
Not a yard had he gained, however, before there came a deafening roar,
the ground rose under him and, in the midst of a cloud of earth, roots,
and brush, he rose in the air.
Terrified, he shrieked. But the roar of the explosion drowned his cries,
and he dropped to the ground, unconscious of the mass of dirt and brush
that fell on him or about him.
Arrived at what he considered a safe distance, Phil had turned just in
time to see the cloud raised by the dynamite shoot into the air. In vain
he scanned the bushes near him for the sight of his brother coming
toward him, and as the mass of debris dropped back to the ground and the
echoes crashed from mountain to mountain, his face went white and his
knees trembled under him.
Completely unnerved at the thought that his warning had been too late
and that his brother had fallen victim to his carelessness in firing the
fuse before informing him of his intention, Phil fled, panic-stricken,
from the spot, rushing madly to the camp, where he bridled his pony,
leaped on its bare back, and raced toward the Jay farm.
At the sound of the rapid hoof-beats, Joy ran to the door.
“Oh, what is it? What’s happened?” she cried, as she beheld the look of
terror on Phil’s face.
“W-where’s your father? Quick!” gasped the boy.
Cool in emergencies, Joy stepped back into the house, picked up a tin
horn, returned to the door, blew three shrill blasts, and then rushed to
the boy, arriving just in time to catch him as he reeled from his pony
in a faint.
To Jasper, working in his field behind the barn, the three blasts on the
horn carried the signal that he was urgently needed at the cabin, and,
dropping his tools, thinking only that Petersen had come to avenge the
discovery of his theft of the horse, he ran to the back door, seized his
rifle, cautiously advancing round the corner just as Joy dropped to the
ground, took Phil’s head in her lap, and began to bathe it in some water
she had fetched.