WORD FROM WASHINGTON
“I suppose it isn’t polite, but why did you and Chester happen over
today, Andy?” asked Ted, as they sat about the campfire after supper.
“Can’t neighbours call without giving their reasons, in the East?”
returned the agent quietly, while Chester blushed deeply.
“Of course they can,” declared Sallie. “You mustn’t mind Ted. He is
irrepressible.”
“You mean irresponsible,” corrected Margie. “Well, you weren’t over here
every few hours when we were alone,” protested the boy, impishly.
“Which proves their good sense,” retorted Margie. “Why should two _men_
come to see two callow kids play farmers?”
“Oh, I understand,” grinned the boy. “Come on, Phil, we’ll leave the
_men_ with the young ladies.” But as Ted looked toward his brother, he
saw him walking away with Joy, and, with a forced cough, he exclaimed:
“Mr. Jay, won’t you and Mrs. Porter come into the house where we can
discuss our plans uninterrupted by these children’s chatter?”
“But it was to discuss plans that Chester and I came,” declared Andy,
when the laughter and rebukes of the girls had subsided. “We want to
know if day after tomorrow is too soon for the house-raising.”
The exclamations of delight from the girls were rudely interrupted by
Ted.
“It is,” he announced emphatically.
As the boy had been most keen for the fun when the idea had been first
proposed, the others looked at him in amazement.
“Why is it too soon, Ted?” demanded Margie. “We can cook enough food
tomorrow.”
“You mean Joy can,” corrected her brother. “It took you two hours to
make and bake a cake the other day, and then you couldn’t eat it. But
_I’m_ not always thinking about food. We promised to help Jasper after
we had finished our planting and there will be no houseraising until
we—”
“Land sakes, if that’s all to hinder, don’t you young folks put off your
fun another day. I can wait,” interrupted the aged farmer.
“That’s just sweet of you, Mr. Jay,” exclaimed the younger girl. “I’m
crazy for a dance.”
“You’re crazy, all right,” returned her brother, disgustedly. “Aren’t
you ashamed, after all Jasper and Joy have done for us, to put off
helping them until you can have a dance? Two or three days will make a
lot of difference to his crops.”
“So that’s the trouble, is it?” asked Chester. “Well, you can rest easy,
then. I rode over Jasper’s section today, on my way to Petersen’s, and
it won’t be necessary to do any replanting. His fields are all up. The
fire didn’t injure them.”
“Of course it didn’t, fire don’t burn cleared ground that’s been
plowed,” said Mr. Jay. “I’d have told you that, only I supposed you knew
it.”
“There, Mr. Smarty, that should teach you to be sure of your facts
before you talk,” taunted Margie. “And honestly, Mr. Chester, my second
cake was dandy.”
“I am sure of it,” smiled the fire lookout, while the others laughed.
“Then there is no objection to passing the word for day after tomorrow?”
“I think not,” said Mrs. Porter, to whom they all turned.
“All right. Don’t kill yourself cooking. Miss Margie. Good-night, all. I
must get back to Bear Mountain.”
“And I to Chikau,” announced Andy.
Throughout the following day all hands gave their attention to preparing
food for the house-raisers, the boys and Jasper supplying wood and water
while the women cooked, and toothsome indeed did the pies, cakes,
cookies, and doughnuts look, arranged on a quickly improvised table.
Anxiously the homesteaders surveyed the sky when they arose, and great
was their delight to see the day break clear.
“It’s a good omen,” declared Jasper. “Wonder who will be the first one
here?”
“Can you guess?” grinned Ted, coming up with two brimming pails of milk.
“Oh, let’s all guess,” proposed Sallie.
“You don’t have to,” returned her brother. “Just look!” And he pointed
toward the brook up which Andy and Chester were riding.
Scarcely had they arrived, however, before others came, some on foot,
some horseback, and some in schooners with their wives and children.
Not one of the bachelors but brought some present, varying from baskets
woven from scented grass to stuffed birds and furs for rugs and
blankets.
“If we only had a couple more sisters, we wouldn’t be obliged to do a
stroke of work, Phil,” laughed his brother.
But the men did not linger long at the camp. Taking their axes and saws,
they went into the woods, and soon the air rang with the sounds of
chopping and orders.
Making themselves perfectly at home, the women helped get the dinner,
and merry was the midday meal.
When Andy announced that some of the men would remain at camp to prepare
the foundations for the cabin, there was more jollification, for all
demanded the privilege.
“Why not draw lots?” suggested Margie. Instantly there was a protest of
“noes,” while others agreed. And the matter of selection was as
difficult of solution as before until Ted, with Solomon-like wisdom,
suggested:
“As we must have the foundations, why not let the married men fix them?”
Shouts of laughter and more protests greeted the idea, but it was
finally adopted, the bachelors taking the horses to the woods to haul in
the logs.
With so many to help, the ground was soon leveled, the ground timbers
placed, and nighttime found the floor laid.
“Now for the dance,” said Chester, when supper had been cleared away and
the dishes washed.
“Who’s going to play?” asked Phil, in dismay. “I’ve heard of songs
without words, but never of a dance without music.”
“Oh, I’ll whistle,” declared Ted.
But several of the men moved away, quickly returning with fiddles and
accordions.
“Better take turns,” said Phil, wondering what the concert of
instruments would sound like.
“Guess you never heard our Chikau band,” laughed Andy. “Just give them a
sample, boys.” To the surprise of the newcomers, the men struck into a
waltz which they played with perfect rhythm. And before they had
finished, the young people were dancing.
Picturesque was the scene when the moon rose, flooding the vale with its
silver, while the occasional howl of some beast of prey in the distance
recalled the merrymakers to their isolation in the wilderness.
The floor being hard for waltzing, most of the dances were the
old-fashioned “country dances,” the men dancing together to fill out the
sets, while the girls often changed partners several times during a
figure, that none might be slighted.
“Eleven o’clock! Dance over!” announced Andy, and when they begged for a
few more sets, he reminded them that the morrow would be a long hard
day.
Again the weather was pleasant, and the working of mortising the
uprights, ridge-pole, and rafters proceeded rapidly.
Just before dinner there sounded the clatter of hoofs, and two men rode
up.
“Bill Simmons!” exclaimed Chester.
“What’s going on here?” demanded the land agent, for he it was.
“House-raising. Can’t you see?” retorted Andy, while the others gathered
about the two interlopers.
“Whose house?”
“The Porters’.”
“Well, you can save yourselves the trouble. Where’s those Porter boys?”
“Here,” chorused the young homesteaders, stepping toward the agent.
“I’ve heard from Washington,” Simmons announced. “As I told you, at my
office, I thought would be the case, the government has refused your
entry. Therefore you are trespassers on E 1, and if you are not off the
section in six hours, I shall proceed—”
Angry protests interrupted the agent, while Andy demanded:
“Where’s the letter denying the entry?”
“Isn’t my word, the word of the land agent in Waterville, enough?”
“No.”
“You bet it isn’t!” exclaimed several voices.
“Well, it’s all you’ll get. I expected to meet opposition, so I came
prepared. Deputy, I order you to arrest Phil and Ted Porter for
trespass, and Andy Howe for interfering with a United States officer in
the per—”
“Buncombe! There’s no such law!” declared Andy. “I’ll give you five
minutes to get off E 1, Simmons, or—”
“We will arrest _you_ for trespass,” exclaimed a stern voice.
Turning, the men and women who had been engrossed in the controversy
between the station agent and the land officer, beheld two more men.
“Si Hopkins!” cried several voices, while others added:
“You come just in time, Si!”
“I’m glad,” returned the wealthy wheat-man. “When I learned, upon my
arrival in Waterville, where Simmons had gone, I hurried as fast as I
could.”
“Deputy, arrest Silas Hopkins!” roared the land agent.
But the man, realizing the millionaire’s presence had some important
meaning, made no move.
“Now see here, Simmons, just keep quiet, or I’ll have you arrested,”
advised Mr. Hopkins; then turning to Andy, he asked: “Where is Mrs.
Porter?”
“I am Mrs. Porter,” replied the little woman, stepping forward with a
quiet dignity, though she knew not what was in store for her.
“I am delighted to meet you,” smiled the wheat-man, shaking her hand,
“and I am more sorry than I can express that you should have been
subjected to such treatment. But the West is no different from other
sections of the country, we have rascals here as well as elsewhere. I—”
“Deputy, will you—” began the land agent, purple with fury.
“No, he won’t, Simmons,” snapped Mr. Hopkins. “Pardon me, Mrs. Porter,
while I deal with this fellow and put an end to his interruptions.
Simmons, you no longer have any power. Here is the order removing you
from office,” and he handed the astonished man a much be-sealed
document, “and here is your appointment as land agent for the district
of Waterville, Andy,” he smiled, extending another document to the
station agent.
For a moment there was silence, while the men and women drank in the
meaning of the words, then came a roar of shouts and exclamations of
approval.
“W-why didn’t this come by mail, in the usual way?” demanded Simmons,
during a lull.
“Because the Secretary of the Interior wished to be sure you received
it. You know several documents sent by mail were never received by you,
so you claim,” answered Mr. Hopkins, significantly.
“I won’t surrender my seal and papers to Howe,” stormed the deposed
agent.
“I am sorry further to abuse your hospitality, Mrs. Porter, but I must
order the marshal to take charge of Simmons. When you change your mind,
Simmons, the marshal will bring you to Waterville. Take him to Bradley,
Johnson.”
“I won’t go! You have no warrant. You can’t—”
“Read the warrant, Johnson,” snapped the millionaire.
Producing a paper, the marshal read the document, which contained
charges of misappropriating government funds, of conniving at frauds in
connection with homestead entries, and the wilful destruction of orders
from the Secretary of the Interior.
“And some folks say there’s no such thing as justice,” exclaimed Jasper,
in the silence which followed the marshal’s reading.
“Take him away, Johnson,” commanded Mr. Hopkins.
And as the two moved off, Andy said:
“It will be my pleasure, Mrs. Porter, as my first official act, to enter
your claim on E 1. Now that you are here, you can file the entry
yourself, which will save any necessity of special permission because
Phil and Ted are not of age.”