TED MAKES A DISCOVERY
Pausing in his tracks, the aged farmer stared from the lather-dripping,
barebacked pony to the seemingly lifeless boy whose head his daughter
was bathing and caressing. Unable to solve the puzzle, Mr. Jay called:
“Who hurt him?”
Startled at the suddenness of the hail and wondering if her father had
heard any of the words she had uttered as she worked over Phil, Joy
turned a flushed face toward her father, only to scream:
“Put down that rifle, Pap! Don’t point it at us.”
Instantly her father obeyed, at the same time asking:
“What’s happened?”
“I don’t know.” And tersely Joy explained Phil’s arrival, his words, her
blowing the horn, and the boy’s fainting.
“Must be something wrong with t’other one,” opined the farmer. “Wasn’t
that a blast I heerd just agone? Probably t’other one got hurted. You go
saddle up, your fingers is limberer than mine, and I’ll bring this young
feller round.”
Joy also had heard the explosion, and, as her father’s words recalled it
to her mind, she readily accepted his explanation of Phil’s arrival and
swoon.
“Don’t be rough with him, Pap; he ain’t our kind,” she cautioned, as she
tenderly placed Phil’s head on the ground, sprang to her feet, and raced
toward the barn.
In reply, the aged farmer grunted, watching his daughter till she
entered the horse-stable, then darted into the cabin, opened a cupboard,
seized a black bottle, and, returning to the boy, raised his head, then
forced some of the brown liquid down his throat.
The strength of the stimulant burned Phil’s throat, causing him to gag
and sputter, and as Joy led forth the two horses, he opened his eyes.
“Here, take another dose. Can’t have you going off again before we know
what’s wrong. ’Twould be a waste of time that must be precious seeing—”
“No, I’m all right,” murmured the boy, sitting up. “It’s Ted. I set off
the dynamite too soon. I yelled to Ted, but he didn’t c-come. O-o-h!”
and again Phil fell back in a swoon at the evident thought that he had
killed his brother.
Horrified at the words, father and daughter looked at one another and
then at the prostrate boy.
“You go, Pap. I couldn’t stand it to see—anything,” she finished lamely.
“Give him another dose from this,” he began, only to check himself and
say, “No, you’d better let him sleep till I get back, if he will.” And
running to his horse, he climbed onto his back and galloped toward E 1.
Having closed his eyes when he found himself in the twisting, whirling
mass of earth and brush, Ted lay perfectly still for several moments
after he felt himself strike. As the roar in his ears subsided, however,
he moved first one arm, then the other and finally his legs. Finding, to
his surprised delight, that he could do so without pain, he shoved the
tangle of brush away from him, sat up, rested a moment, then got to his
feet, and gazed about him.
“‘Jumping elk!’ as Steve says, but that charge sure did clear some
space!” Then his scattered wits returning, he bethought himself of his
brother and yelled: “Phil, oh, Phil!”
When no answering hail came to him, he started to run only to stop, his
face twisted in pain.
“Feels as though a million needles were sticking into me,” he murmured
to himself. And again he felt of his arms, legs, and body. “Nothing
broken,” he finally announced. “Must have been the shock of moving after
landing so suddenly. Seems to me I’ve read something like it—a man who
was blown up described.”
Assured that his limbs were sound, the boy began to walk slowly, and as
the pricking numbness vanished, he increased his pace, shouting all the
while for his brother.
Alarmed at the failure to be answered, he suddenly paused.
“I couldn’t have thrown those two sticks toward him!” he gasped, then
dashed frantically forward.
Search, however, failed to show the sign of any other upheaval.
“Maybe he’s gone to camp for stuff for me,” Ted said to himself, and
quickly hastened to the hut, where the absence of Pat suggested to him
his brother’s actions.
“Poor old Phil! He thinks he’s done for me,” he exclaimed, and quickly
saddling Daisy, he leaped onto her back and headed her toward the Jay
farm, reasoning that his brother would go there for aid.
Eager to relieve the anguish he knew Phil would feel, Ted rode hard and
was within a few feet of the clearing when a voice hailed him.
“Well, I swan! How’d _you_ git here? Thought you was—” And then the aged
farmer stopped abruptly, realizing his words were untimely.
But Ted seemed not to have heard them.
“Where’s Phil?” he demanded.
“Back at the cabin—in a dead faint. That is, he was when I left. But
how’d you—”
“Never mind now,” returned the boy. And shaking out his pony, he raced
ahead, Mr. Jay following as best he could.
Just as Ted appeared in sight, Phil opened his eyes, and as the sound of
hoof-beats reached him, he looked questioningly at Joy.
“Why, it’s Ted _himself_!” cried the girl, in amazed delight.
At the words Phil sprang to his feet, but, as he assured himself of
their truth, he sank down again.
With a cry of concern, Ted leaped from his pony and knelt beside his
brother. Frantically he and the girl worked over Phil, and at last he
recovered consciousness.
“Ted!” “Phil!” And the brothers embraced lovingly.
When their composure had been restored, Ted related his experiences
while the others marvelled at his escape.
“Better let me lend you a rail,” commented Mr. Jay. “You can drag that
and it will pull up the brush. It’s slower, but it’s safer.”
“Thanks, we will,” smiled Ted. “But I guess we’ll let the clearing go
till tomorrow. I think I’ll take a vacation the rest of the day.”
“Oh, goody! You can stay with us and I’ll teach you how to cook,”
exclaimed Joy.
Eagerly the young homesteaders accepted the invitation, but they
insisted upon being allowed to help, and donning some of the girl’s
aprons, they were soon daubed with flour and dough.
“Lorsey, what a sight!” laughed the old settler, coming in a short time
later. “I’m going to sow some alfalfa and thought maybe you’d like to
see how ’twas done.”
“Now, Dad, you know Ted wants to rest. You shouldn’t have asked them,”
Joy protested.
“I’m doctor and they can’t go; besides, I am teaching them to cook so
they won’t be obliged to live on canned stuff.”
“Wall, I kin put off planting the alfalfa until tomorrow. I’ve got
enough to do in the garden,” and Mr. Jay went out.
When milking-time came, the boys insisted on going to the corral in
which the cows were herded to be milked.
“May I try?” asked Phil.
Readily the permission was granted, but after a few futile efforts to
extract even a drop of milk, the cow looked round as though to see what
manner of thing was pulling at her bag. Her inspection was evidently
unsatisfactory, for she gave a kick that put Phil on his back and sent
the pail spinning.
“Try this cow, I’ve got her started,” directed Jasper, when the boy had
picked himself and the pail up.
This time, thanks to the old settler’s instruction, Phil did better.
“You’ll get the knack with a little practice,” he said. “She’s the
easiest milker in the herd, and when you go home you must take her.
You’ll find it mighty good to have fresh milk, and Joy’ll show you how
to prepare the cream and make butter. No, you can’t buy her. If I can’t
lend Winthrop Porter’s boys a cow, it’s a pity.”
For the next two days the boys, still unnerved by their experience,
having brought over the blacks from their camp to insure their safety,
alternated between watching the old settler cultivate his land and Joy
cook and do her churning.
“Reckon I’ll have to go over tonight and see if Petersen will rent me
his team to plow,” announced Mr. Jay, at supper.
“With our blacks in the barn, eating their heads off?” exclaimed Ted.
“Know any more ’bout plowing than you did about milking?”
“We can learn, though; we ought to be able to help some.”
“Sure you kin. And I’ll be mighty glad. I don’t like Petersen, but he’s
my nearest neighbour, except you, you know. He’ll forget our little
trouble when he thinks he’s going to get some of my money.”
“I’m afraid you’ll be sorry we are not farther away,” said Ted. “It will
be easier to ride over than to cook a meal.”
“You’ll always find a welcome,” returned Joy, blushing. “Won’t they,
dad?” she added to cover her confusion at the fear the boys might think
her forward.
“Them _and_ their horses. Them blacks takes _my_ eye.” And they all
laughed.
The next morning, with Ted driving and Phil holding the plow, the boys
travelled back and forth across the field, more than holding their own
with the older man.
“They done fine, Joy,” declared her father, at dinner. “I wish they was
my boys. You wouldn’t know this quarter in two year. I’m a gettin’ too
old to work it properly, but they could. Seems though you young folks
ought to be able to fix it somehow. E 1 and E 2 would make a splendid
farm if they was joined.”
“Why, Daddy Jay! The idea of your saying such a thing!” exclaimed the
girl, her face turning to a bright crimson.
Turning to his brother, Ted was amazed to see that he too was blushing,
and he coughed impishly as he surprised an interchange of glances
between Phil and Joy.
“Guess we may be able to arrange it, Mr. Jay,” he chuckled, whereat Phil
and Joy became exceedingly interested in their food. “You old fox!” he
cried, slapping his brother on his back, as they went out to hitch up
the horses. “Now I understand why your head ached so you had to go back
to the house yesterday and the day before, only you’ve located your
trouble in the wrong organ. Go in and win. She’s a bully girl, and
Momsy’ll like—”
“Oh, dry up!” snapped Phil. But though he obeyed, at intervals during
the afternoon Ted gave vent to hearty chuckles.
“We’ll go over to our quarter tomorrow,” announced his brother, as they
were preparing for bed.
“Why? _I_ wouldn’t turn away from such a g—”
A swiftly thrown pillow, striking him full in the face, smothered the
rest of the sentence, and before he could continue, Phil was saying in
his most impressive manner:
“If we can plow for Jasper, we can plow for ourselves. We mustn’t let
pleasure interfere with our serious purpose.”
“Oh, rats! But if you are ready to go, I am. Too bad, though, Jasper
didn’t build his cabin on the line. We could build ours on our side and
you wouldn’t have to waste fifteen minutes riding over. Poor Pat! He’ll
wish he was back in Avon.”
Phil’s retort was a snore so studied that the younger boy laughed aloud.
The next morning, both the old settler and Joy urged the young
homesteaders to stay the rest of the week, but they pleaded the
necessity of getting their land planted as soon as possible.
Although they had bidden the girl good-bye before they went to the barn,
Phil kept delaying to start, now that they were ready, with the ponies
and cow tied behind and the iron rail in the wagon, his many covert
glances toward the cabin indicating that he hoped for another glimpse of
Joy.
“Guess you’ll have us for dinner, after all, Mr. Jay,” grinned Ted. “We
don’t seem to be travelling very fast.”
A slap of the reins that started the blacks so suddenly they almost
jerked the other animals off their feet was his brother’s answer.
But before they had proceeded a rod, Joy ran from the cabin, staggering
under the weight of a big basket.
“Here are some things I cooked for you,” she said, as Ted sprang to the
ground and relieved her of her load. And as the young homesteaders set
out again, she called: “Come over to supper tomorrow night.”
Several times Ted tried to start a conversation, but his brother
maintained a haughty silence, and at last he gave it up and began to
examine the basket Joy had given them, with the remark that if he
couldn’t talk he would eat.
No sooner had he raised the cloth than his eyes rested on an envelope.
“‘Mr. Phil Porter,’” he read. “Funny that should be in _my_ basket.
Wonder who _he_ is?” With a growl Phil snatched the envelope, while Ted
grinned: “Better let me drive. Your poor head will ache so in a minute
you won’t be able to see the road.”