WOLVERTON'S POOR TENANT.
Bob hired a couple of extra hands, and made haste to finish harvesting
his wheat, for he was anxious to start on the trip down the river as
soon as possible. His anticipations as to the size of the crop were
justified. It footed up fourteen hundred and seventy-five bushels, and
this, at two dollars per bushel, would fetch in market nearly three
thousand dollars.
"That's a pretty good crop for a boy to raise, mother," said Bob, with
pardonable exultation. "You haven't lost anything by allowing me to run
the ranch."
"Quite true, Robert. You have accomplished wonders. I don't know what I
could have done without you. I know very little of farming myself."
"I helped him, missis," said Clip, coveting a share of approval for
himself.
"Yes," said Bob, smiling. "Clip has been my right-hand man. I can't say
he has worked very hard himself, but he has superintended the others."
"Yes, missis; dat's what I done!" said Clip, proudly.
He did not venture to pronounce the word, for it was too much for him,
but he was vaguely conscious that it was something important and
complimentary.
"Then I must buy Clip a new suit," said Mrs. Burton, smiling.
"I'll buy it in St. Louis, mother."
When the grain was all gathered in Bob began to load it on the
ferry-boat. Wolverton sent Sam round every day to report progress, but
did not excite his nephew's suspicions by appearing to take unusual
interest in the matter.
To prepare the reader for a circumstance which happened about this time,
I find it necessary to introduce another character, who was able to do
Bob an important service.
In a small house, about three-quarters of a mile beyond the Burton
ranch, lived Dan Woods, a poor man, with, a large family. He hired the
house which he occupied and a few acres of land from Aaron Wolverton,
who had obtained possession of it by foreclosing a mortgage which he
held. He permitted Woods, the former owner, to remain as a tenant in the
house which once belonged to him, charging him rather more than an
average rent. The poor man raised vegetables and a small crop of wheat,
enough of each for his own family, and hired out to neighbors for the
balance of his time. He obtained more employment on the Burton ranch
than anywhere else, and Mrs. Burton had also sympathized with him in his
difficult struggle to maintain his family. But, in spite of friends and
his own untiring industry, Dan Woods fell behind. There were five
children to support, and they required not only food but clothing, and
Dan found it uphill work.
His monthly rent was ten dollars; a small sum in itself, but large for
this much-burdened man to pay. But, however poorly he might fare in
other respects, Dan knew that it was important to have this sum ready on
the first day of every month. Wolverton was a hard landlord, and
admitted of no excuse. More than once after the rent had been paid there
was not a dollar left in his purse, or a pinch of food in his house.
A week before this time Dan was looking for his landlord's call with
unusual anxiety. He had been sick nearly a week during the previous
month, and this had so curtailed his earnings that he had but six
dollars ready in place of ten. Would his sickness be accepted as an
excuse? He feared not.
Wolverton's call was made on time. He had some expectation that the rent
would not be ready, for he knew Dan had been sick; but he was resolved
to show him no consideration.
"His sickness is nothing to me," he reflected. "It would be a pretty
state of affairs if landlords allowed themselves to be cheated out of
their rent for such a cause."
Dan Woods was at work in the yard when Wolverton approached. He was
splitting some wood for use in the kitchen stove. His heart sank within
him when he saw the keen, sharp features of his landlord.
"Good morning, Dan," said Wolverton, with suavity. His expression was
amiable, as it generally was when he was collecting money, but it
suffered a remarkable change if the money was not forthcoming.
"Good-morning, sir," answered Woods, with a troubled look.
"You've got a nice, snug place here, Dan; it's a fine home for your
family."
"I don't complain of it, sir. As I once owned it myself, probably I set
more store by it than a stranger would."
"Just so, Dan. You get it at a very low rent, too. If it were any one
but yourself I should really feel that I ought to raise the rent to
twenty dollars."
"I hope you won't do that, sir," said Woods, in alarm. "It's all I can
do to raise ten dollars a month, with all my other expenses."
"Oh, well, I'll let it remain at the present figure _as long as you pay
me promptly_," emphasizing the last words. "Of course I have a right to
expect that."
Dan's heart sank within him. It was clear he could not expect any
consideration from such a man. But the truth must be told.
"No doubt you are right, Mr. Wolverton, and you've found me pretty
prompt so far."
"So I have, Dan. I know you wouldn't be dishonest enough to make me
wait."
Dan's heart sank still lower. It was becoming harder every minute to own
that he was deficient.
"Still, Mr. Wolverton, bad luck will come----"
"What!" exclaimed Wolverton, with a forbidding scowl.
"As I was saying, sir, a man is sometimes unlucky. Now, I have been sick
nearly a week out of the last month, as you may have heard, and it's put
me back."
"What are you driving at, Dan Woods?" demanded Wolverton, severely. "I
hope you're not going to say that you are not ready to pay your rent?"
"I haven't got the whole of it, sir; and that's a fact."
"You haven't got the whole of it? How much have you got?"
"I can pay you six dollars, Mr. Wolverton."
"Six dollars out of ten! Why, this is positively shameful! I wonder you
are not ashamed to tell me."
"There is no shame about it that I can see," answered Dan, plucking up
his spirit. "I didn't fall sick on purpose; and when I was sick I
couldn't work."
"You ought to have one month's rent laid by, so that whatever happens
you could pay it on time."
"That's easy to say, Mr. Wolverton, but it takes every cent of my
earnings to pay my monthly expenses. There's little chance to save."
"Any one can save who chooses," retorted Wolverton, sharply.
"Shall I get you the six dollars, sir?"
"Yes, give it to me."
"And you will wait for the other four?"
"Till to-morrow night."
"But how can I get it by to-morrow night?" asked Dan in dismay.
"That's your lookout, not mine. All I have to say is, unless it is paid
to me to-morrow night you must move the next day."
With these words Wolverton went off. Dan Woods, in his trouble, went to
Bob Burton the next day, and Bob readily lent him the money he needed.
"Thank you!" said Dan, gratefully; "I won't forget this favor."
"Don't make too much of it, Dan; it's a trifle."
"It's no trifle to me. But for you my family would be turned out of
house and home to-morrow. The time may come when I can do you a
service."
"Thank you, Dan."
The time came sooner than either anticipated.