CHESTER BRINGS NEWS
When the boys called their sisters the next morning, they were answered
by groans and the information that the girls were too sore and stiff
from their unusual work of the day before to get up.
“You are fine specimens to help carry on a farm,” commented Phil.
“Tell them breakfast is ready,” announced Ted. “They’d get up to eat
when they wouldn’t get up to go to a party.”
“Bring breakfast in to us,” pleaded Margie. “Waiter, serve the ladies’
breakfast in the rooms,” mocked Phil.
“Now don’t try to be funny, Phil,” called Margie. “I guess tramping over
rough ground and sowing seed is harder than pitching a baseball, but I
remember a boy in Weston who always lay in bed the morning after he had
pitched and insisted on having his little sisters bring his food to him,
although they had all the housework to do before going to sc—”
“All right, I’ll bring it,” broke in the elder boy, starting to pick up
some plates. But a wink from Ted caused him to pause in his
preparations.
Mindful of the manner in which Andy had cured his aches and pains, the
boy seized the coffee-pot and darted into the bough house.
“Here’s your coffee,” he said. “Open your mouths.” And without waiting
for compliance with his command, he poured a generous supply of the hot
liquid over each of his sisters.
All thought of soreness and stiffness forgotten, the girls leaped up,
but Ted had wisely vanished as suddenly as he had entered.
In an amazingly short time and while Jasper and Joy were still laughing
at Ted’s joke, Sallie and Margie, fully dressed, dashed from the door,
seized some hoes, and rushed for their brothers.
“Some cure for aches, what?” grinned the younger boy, as he dodged a
blow. “I think I’ll call myself Dr. Porter and advertise.”
The girls, however, were bent on vengeance, and chased their brothers
until their mother called:
“If you girls feel strong enough to run, you can help me shake out these
blankets.”
“We are farmers, not housemaids, Mrs. Porter,” returned Margie, without
abandoning the pursuit.
“But breakfast is getting cold and my ‘flap-jacks’ will be spoiled,”
interposed Joy.
At the words Phil stopped running. “I’ll give you each two whacks at me,
if you’ll let me eat,” he announced.
“So’ll I,” agreed his brother.
“Um, if Joy’s flap-jacks are so good you are willing to be beaten, I
think I’ll eat them myself,” decided Margie. “We’ll punish you by
allowing you only one apiece. Come on, Sallie and Momsy. Joy, you sit
down. I’ll serve the flap-jacks.”
Not until Ted had told his sisters that he and Phil had been subjected
to the same “cure” were the girls appeased, but Joy was compelled to fry
more flap-jacks, so ravenously did the Easterners eat them.
“I’m going to live wherever you do, Joy,” declared Margie, helping
herself to more.
“You’ll have another sort of ache, if you don’t quit eating soon,”
chuckled Ted. “We’re going to irrigate this afternoon and we’ll need
your help.”
Leaving the girls to wash the dishes, the young homesteaders set out
with Mr. Jay and their horses to prepare the dry land. Mindful of all
they had learned the day before, the boys were able to work much more
rapidly, and when the girls came to call them for dinner, four fields
were ready for irrigation.
After dinner Ted took his sisters and Joy to the farm ditch and
instructed them about placing the canvas dams so as to throw the water
into the laterals and onto the four fields.
“But we’ll get our skirts sopping,” protested Sallie, as they walked to
the dam.
“Why can’t we put on some of the boys’ overalls?” asked Margie. “It
would be a lark and there won’t be anybody to see us.”
Accordingly it was decided that they should don the apparel. Quickly
they returned to the hut to do so, and while they were busy at the task,
Ted took out the table Steve had given him and calculated the length of
time it would take to irrigate the four fields.
“Why, we can do it all in half a day,” he declared, after having covered
several pieces of paper with figures. “Our stream is 37 miner’s inches.
With that we can get the required 2.3 acre-inches onto a field in a
little more than three hours. But we have so much water in the reservoir
that we can turn on 74 miner’s inches, which will reduce the time to an
hour and a half, only six hours for the four fields.”
“We can do it sooner than that,” returned his brother. “We have head
enough so that we can irrigate all four fields at once. Anyhow, we’ll
try it.”
“What’s a ‘head’ of water?” demanded Margie. “I’ve heard of blockheads,
but never of a water—”
“It means the depth of water in the dam, silly,” interrupted Ted. “Now
just get over your nonsense. This is serious work and it is important
the irrigation should be successful.”
“I stand rebuked, _Professor_ Porter,” mocked the girl. “Come on.”
When they were ready, Mrs. Porter insisted upon accompanying them. Phil
went to the head gate at the dam, Ted took his station at the first
lateral, Margie and Sallie at the second, and Joy and her father with
the girls.
“Ready?” shouted Phil.
“Ready,” answered his brother, who, after making sure that the boxes
leading from the laterals into the fields were unobstructed, ran to
where his sisters were to help them with the canvas dam.
With a rapidity that surprised them the water came down the main ditch
and in such force that it swept the canvas dam aside.
“Quick, you girls, take hold, one on each side,” commanded Ted. And
taking a shovel, he hurriedly threw in dirt at the back of the canvas
until he had built a temporary dam which held the canvas in place.
“It’s going into the field splendidly,” said a voice close beside the
young people.
Looking up, in surprise, the girls blushed furiously as they beheld
Andy.
“Oh dear! I didn’t think any one would see us,” cried Sallie, dropping
to the ground in confusion.
“Most sensible thing you could have done,” commented Andy, in such a
matter-of-fact tone that the girls’ embarrassment vanished, and in a few
minutes they were walking along the contour with him, watching the water
spread over the fields, as unconcernedly as though they were in their
regular skirts.
So evenly that it amazed the young homesteaders did the water flow onto
the prepared ground, the borders holding it with very little seepage.
“It’s two and a half inches deep,” Ted announced, after thrusting a foot
rule into the pond which covered one of the fields.
“Better give it another inch, it won’t do any harm,” advised Andy, and
when the desired depth had been obtained, Phil hastened back to close
the head gate.
When this had been shut, the others closed the first lateral, and
arranged the canvas dams to turn the water into the second field,
repeating the operation with the two remaining fields.
“Isn’t Andy a perfect dear?” exclaimed Sallie, when she and Margie were
back at the cabin, changing into the ordinary clothes. “There are not
many men who would have been as nice about seeing us in those overalls.”
“He’s got plenty of sense,” commented her sister. “But he isn’t a bit
nicer than Chester would have been.”
“So that’s the way the wind is blowing, eh?” laughed the elder girl.
Then chancing to look out the window, she said: “Speaking of angels,
here your lookout is.”
Rapidly they dressed and joined the boys and their two friends.
“I’m the answer book,” smiled Chester, as he greeted the girls. “I’ve
found out a lot of things which will clear up several points. Mr.
Jackson and I have been questioning Petersen again. He laid the setting
of the fire to two of his men who, he declared, in order to vent their
spite on him, had set fire to the sawdust pile and then disappeared. Of
course, we didn’t believe him. Something he said, however, gave me an
idea, and I located the men he accused, fellows known as Shorty and Tot.
By pretending to know more than I did, and telling them that Petersen
had laid the blame for the fire at their door, they told me he had hired
them to set the pile afire and when they had done it, refused to pay
them, declaring that he would have them arrested for arson. He promised
them a hundred dollars.”
“Why, that’s just the amount stolen from us,” exclaimed Phil.
“So I remembered,” smiled Chester. “To make a long story short, I
learned from the fellows that Petersen had been in Bradley when you
outfitted and that one night later he announced he must go to Waterville
to protect himself against some claim-jumpers.”
“So it was Petersen who posted that warning. I had fancied Simmons was
mixed up in it,” commented Andy.
“We shall know more after Mr. Jackson has Petersen in jail; he has gone
to arrest him now. We expect to recover the money of which you were
robbed.”
When the excitement over this information had subsided, Andy said:
“While we are in the explanation business, I might as well say that I
have discovered why that telegram was delayed. As I was over here when
it was first sent over the wire, of course I could not receive it. The
operators tried to raise me on the succeeding days, and not being able
to, when it came Friday, they sent it to the agent at Hutchins, with
instructions to telephone it to some one who would deliver it. Naturally
he sent it to Peleg.”
“‘All’s well that ends well,’” laughed Mrs. Porter.
“And now it’s my turn. I don’t understand how a pile of sawdust could
burn on a wet day,” said Margie.
“It’s like this,” began both Andy and Chester, almost in the same
breath. Whereat the others laughed, and the agent nodded to the lookout
to proceed.
“Water acts on sawdust much as it does on coal: instead of putting out
the fire, it makes it hotter.”