approached, looking at the excavated dirt thrown out. Then his eye
caught a double line of stakes set at intervals and running the full
length of the pond, marking out the two sides of the cut.
"I dug out one cubic yard in forty minutes, Uncle Joe, but we could do
much better with a team of horses and a plow and scoop. Allowing
thirty cents per hour, the ditch would cost eight hundred and forty
dollars."
"Whee," said his uncle, "more than we could ever afford to pay, Bob,
I'm afraid, even though Mr. White is in favor of it and agreed to-day
to loan me whatever it would cost."
"Oh, then you told him about it?" said Bob. "How did he like the
scheme?"
"He said it was a first-rate idea, Bob. He also said we should lay
tile field drain through the bottom of the pond to the ditch every
fifty feet over the entire field. These would soon drain the bottom
and keep the new field dry."
"I've been wondering," said Bob, "what we could do about draining the
bottom, but I didn't think of tile, although it sounds like a good
idea."
And Bob took out his notebook and figured for a few minutes.
"If we put them fifty feet apart, that would mean twelve rows; each
row would be six hundred feet long--that would mean 7200 lineal feet.
Did Mr. White say what the tile would be worth a foot, laid, Uncle
Joe?"
"No, he didn't, Bob, and I was too busy to ask him."
"What would you say, Uncle Joe," remarked Bob a few minutes later, "if
I were to tell you we can get the ditch dug, a new dam built across
between the two banks down by the beech trees, and a road cut up the
west slope by the barn, so as to get rid of that steep hill, and we
won't have to spend one cent."
"What nonsense are you talking?" demanded his uncle. "You just said it
would cost eight hundred and forty dollars to dig the ditch alone."
"So it would, Uncle Joe, if we dug it by hand. We could probably do it
quicker if we used a team of horses and scoop, but, of course, we'd
have to allow for the value of the team while it was doing the work,
and, besides, it would take too long."
"Well, then, how'd it be done?" asked his uncle, interested in spite
of himself, for after his interview with the president of the First
National that morning he began to look upon Bob as something more than
a chore boy.
"Come over to the sand pit with me, Uncle Joe," he replied, "and I'll
show you."
Together they walked over to the pit and the first thing that caught
his uncle's eye was a large sign: Sand and Gravel for Sale Price 5oc
per cu. yd. Cash or Labor Inquire Robert Williams
"Well, what does it mean?" asked his uncle, reading the sign for the
second time.
"It means, Uncle Joe, that while I was still nailing up that sign two
men came along in a big gray touring car and stopped, and one of them
wanted to know what we'd take for the pit. I told him we sold our eggs
by the dozen and not by what a hen might lay in a year. He laughed and
said his name was Brady and that he had a contract for building some
bridges for the new railroad that's coming in three miles down the
creek and needed sand and gravel. The gentleman with him, who I judged
from what they said was the engineer for the railroad, seemed to be
very much pleased with the kind of sand and gravel we had, and I heard
him tell Mr. Brady he'd approve it for the work. After looking the pit
over, Mr. Brady asked what was meant by 'Cash or Labor,' so I told him
we had some work we wanted done and would be willing to have him give
us an estimate on the cost. He asked me what it was and I told him it
was a ditch, a dam and a road. So he went up and looked the ditch
over, then we went down to the beech trees and I explained to him
about the new dam we were going to put in there to generate electric
light for the farm. Then we rode up to the west slope in his big
touring car and he examined the bank there. I showed him my figures
for the ditch, and he made a memorandum of them; then he said if we
would let him have the exclusive use of the sand pit for one year,
taking out as much sand as he needed, and also let him have the heavy
timbers from the old mill, as he needed them for some shoring he had
to do, he would be willing to tear down the old mill, dig our ditch,
build us a new dam and a new road, using his caterpillar steam shovel
for the work."
"What did you say, Bob?" eagerly asked his uncle.
"I told him we couldn't think of it," replied Bob with a grin.
"What! You didn't take him up? What could you have been thinking of,
Bob?"
"Well, you see, Uncle Joe, we'll need a lot of sand and gravel
ourselves for making concrete fence posts and things like that, and
then we may want to build a concrete road from the main road up to the
barn, and, of course, we need a new dairy house and big silo."
"Yes, I know, Bob; the old place is pretty well run down," said his
uncle. "Mr. White said something to-day about looking ahead and making
permanent improvements, but we can't think of doing that now."
"I'm not so sure about that, Uncle Joe," replied Bob. "It seems we've
got the only sand and gravel pit within fifteen miles with sand and
gravel that the railroad engineer will accept for his work. I
overheard him say that to Mr. Brady."
"Well, what did you finally do about the sand, Bob?" inquired his
uncle eagerly.
"I told him the price was fifty cents per cubic yard in the pit, but
we would let him pay for it in work, if his prices for the work were
not too high, so he's going to make up a figure and come back and see
us. I told him I thought you'd be willing to let him have the timber
from the mill if he would take off the boards and two by fours and
haul them over to the sand pit for us. You know, Uncle Joe, these will
come in handy for us to build a shed when we start to make fence posts
and other things there."
"But will he need enough sand to pay for all this work, Bob?" asked
his uncle, now greatly excited.
"Yes, I'm sure he'll need more, for he seemed to be anxious to buy the
pit outright."
"He did!"
"Yes, he did, but I told him we were not willing to sell it, Uncle
Joe; that we expected to put up a lot of concrete buildings on the
farm besides building some concrete roads and making a lot of concrete
fence posts."
"Well, Bob, I guess you did a good half day's work all right," said
his uncle, "and to show you that I appreciate the way you've handled
this matter, I'll let you make the deal with Brady when he comes
back."
They didn't have long to wait, for about three o'clock that afternoon
a big gray touring car came snorting up the steep hill back of the
barn and stopped near where they were loading manure. The driver of
the car got out and came over to them.
"This is the Uncle Joe, I was telling you about, Mr. Brady," said Bob,
by way of introduction, as the contractor came up to them.
"Glad to know you, Mr. Williams. I came up to see you about buying
your sand pit. What will you take for it in cash? I haven't a great
deal of time to lose, so I brought the money with me," and he drew
from his pocket the largest roll of bills that Bob had ever seen in
his life.
"You'll have to--to--talk it over with Bob," hesitated Bob's uncle,
for at the sight of so much ready money he began to waver in his
resolutions to let Bob handle the matter.
"We don't want to sell it, Mr. Brady," spoke up Bob quickly. "We want
to control the pit ourselves and have sand and gravel for our own
use."
"Oh, that's all right. I'll let you have all you want for your own
use, free of cost, too," said Mr. Brady quickly.
"No," said Bob. "This is the only sand and gravel pit around here,
and, when they start building concrete roads in this county, which
they may do any time now, this pit will be valuable."
"Say, son," said the contractor, "you're wasting your time on a farm.
You ought to be with me in the contracting business. Who's been
telling you about this new county road work?"
"No one's been telling me," said Bob, "but everyone can see it doesn't
pay to haul heavy loads over rough roads to market your crops, and as
for farming," he added," it's a good business, too, Mr. Brady,
especially if you have a good sand pit on the place," he added
laughing.
[Illustration: "WELL, SON, LET'S GET DOWN TO BUSINESS. I SEE YOU'RE
WISE ALL RIGHT TO THE VALUE OF THAT PIT"]
"Well, son, let's get down to business. I see you're wise all right to
the value of that pit. How much work do you want me to do and how much
money will you want me to give you, and who's going to keep account of
the sand we get and when do we settle for it?"
"You said you had a steam shovel, Mr. Brady," said Bob. "Is it busy
now? We want to get this bottom land ready for corn this year."
"Not doing anything at the present time; can start your work next week
for the shovel's on the railroad siding at Indiana now," he replied
quickly.
"What do you charge a day for use of shovel with a man to operate it?"
asked Bob.
"Hold on there, son; you'll get to be as smart as I am if you keep on
at that rate. I don't rent the shovel by the day, but I'll tell you
what: I'll do your work on contract."
"All right," said Bob. "How much do you want for digging the ditch?"
"$700," said Mr. Brady, consulting a memorandum.
"And how much for building the dam?"
"$200 without a concrete spillway and sluice gate and $350 more with
them."
"And how much for the road up the west slope?"
"Well, that won't cost you much, son; that's an easier job than it
looks. I'll charge you only $100 for doing that. That would make $1350
total."
"Yes," replied Bob, setting down the amount in his own memorandum
book. "How much sand will you need, Mr. Brady?"
The contractor took a memorandum book from his pocket and consulted it
for a moment.
"About ten to fifteen thousand yards of sand and gravel together on my
first contract, but I expect to have a contract for building roads
pretty soon that will require more than double that."
At the mention of these figures, Bob exchanged glances with his uncle,
who had with difficulty kept to his agreement to let Bob make the
bargain, and he fairly gasped when he began to realize the earning
capacity of the old sand pit.
"I think you're charging me too much money, son, for the sand and
gravel. You ought to knock off five or ten cents per yard and give me
exclusive right to the pit."
"No," said Bob, "we're not willing to do that, but we will make this
bargain with you, Mr. Brady: if you will do our work for us right
away, we'll agree not to charge you more than fifty cents a cubic yard
for as much sand and gravel as you want."
Seeing there was no other way out of the matter, the contractor
finally consented to this arrangement.
"I'm not much on verbal contracts," he said, "for I find that people
who do not set down in black and white what they agree to do, often
forget and then there's trouble, so if you don't mind, Mr. Williams,
we'll step into the house and put our agreement in writing."
"How shall we arrange to keep account of the amount of materials I
get?" asked Mr. Brady, as they started for the house.
"How do you usually do?" asked Bob.
"I've got some tickets with my name on them," replied the contractor,
"and every time a man takes away a load he gives one of those tickets
to the man in charge of the pit. By the way, I suppose there'll be
some one in charge who can take care of these tickets?"
"Yes," said Bob quickly, before his uncle had a chance to speak.
"We're going to start a man making fence posts at the pit next week
and you can give the tickets to him."
A few minutes after they had sat down at the table in the sitting room
Mr. Brady handed the agreement to' Bob's uncle to read. He read it
over and then handed it to Bob, who read it over twice, very careful,
and then laid it down on the table.
"It reads all right, Mr. Brady, and seems to be just what we agreed to
do," said Bob, "but before we sign it I'd like to show it to Mr.
White, president of the First National Bank."
"All right, son, just as you like," said the contractor, a look of
disappointment on his face as he put his fountain pen in his pocket.
"I'll be here on Monday with my men and outfit, for I'm sure Mr. White
will find the agreement is all right."
"I think it is myself," said Bob, "but I'd like to have him read it
over anyway before it's signed."
As they walked out to the barnyard, where his car was standing, the
contractor turned to Joe Williams and asked:
"How do you manage to get up and down that steep hill with your
automobile, Mr. Williams?" "Oh, I don't have an automobile," Williams
replied.
"What! no car?" exclaimed Mr. Brady. "I don't see how your women folks
get along without one. Cars are so low and horses so high nowadays, it
don't pay to take a horse out of a busy team to drive to town. I
should think you couldn't do without one. Well, good day," he added,
as he climbed into his car and threw on the self-starter. "See you
next week."
VII
THE NEW AUNT
The following week was a very busy and eventful one for Bob. Plowing
time was rapidly approaching, and his uncle was anxious to have all
the manure placed on the fields ready to start work early; besides,
they had taken a day off at Bob's urging to prune the young orchard.
On Thursday he received a large package of Farm Bulletins from the
Department of Agriculture at Washington, in reply to a postcard he had
sent. He had only time for a hasty glance through them, before having
to lay them away for careful reading later.
On Friday his uncle turned over the team to him, saying he was going
to town for the day. Bob noticed that he had dressed up in his best
clothes, so was not surprised when he came in from work late that
afternoon to find they had company at the house.
"Come here, Bob," called his uncle cheerily, as he entered. "I want
you to meet your new Aunt Bettie. She isn't exactly your aunt yet, but
she will be soon."
Bob hastened forward to take the out stretched hand of the woman who
rose to greet him.
Bob had a quick eye for beauty; he noted the fair, soft complexion
which the rich dark hair set off so beautifully, but not this alone
made the strong and conscious appeal to him--it was the frank manner
with which she took his hand and the friendly light in her lovely
brown eyes that won Bob completely.
"So this is 'Bob,' of whom you have been telling me," said Miss
Atwood. "I'm certainly glad to make your acquaintance, Bob. Your Uncle
Joe has been telling me many things about you, and I know we're going
to be fast friends and have lots of fun together on the farm this
summer."
"I hope so," said Bob, "for I like farming better than anything I
know; there are so many interesting things to see and do."
"I'm glad to hear you say that, Bob," she replied. "In these days,
when most boys of your age want to be in the town and cities, it's
refreshing to find one who has vision enough to appreciate the golden
opportunities of the country. Your Uncle Joe doesn't know it, but I've
been doing considerable reading myself about farm life and farm work
since we became engaged, and the more I read the more enthusiastic I
become, and I'm sure we're going to have lots of pleasant days and
evenings, too, together."
"Have you been reading farm bulletins, also, Aunt Bettie?" Bob asked
hesitating, as he used her new title for the first time.
"That's right, I want you to call me 'Aunt Bettie'," she replied
quickly, seeing his embarrassment. "Yes, I've gotten a great many
bulletins from the Department of Agriculture at Washington and have
read them over and over very carefully. The opportunities on a farm,
if one just keeps his eyes open, are certainly wonderful."
"I'd like to read your bulletins, too," said Bob, his eyes sparkling.
"I thought you were going to give up teaching school, Bettie,"
interrupted her intended husband, "and here you and Bob are getting
ready to start one. First thing you know, you'll be getting another
scholar, one six feet tall," and he laughed down at her.
"Well, frankly, Joe," she replied, "you might spend your evenings less
profitably than reading bulletins and other interesting papers on
making farms pay."
"Guess I'll have to get in line," he replied laughing. "Bob's been
preaching to me ever since he came here about modernizing the old farm
and digging up our 'Hidden Treasure,' as he calls it."
"You'll have to excuse me now, Aunt Bettie," said Bob, "for it's
milking time and I always plan to milk our cows regularly."
His heart was light and he whistled a merry tune as he started for the
barn, the milk pails on his arm. He now felt sure that this summer was
going to be the happiest one he had ever spent.
After the supper dishes had been cleared away, they sat together and
talked of the things to be done to improve the farm and which would be
the best crops to plant. As the discussion continued, Joe Williams
began to realize that both Bettie and Bob knew many things about
farming of which he was ignorant--things which, he reluctantly
admitted to himself, were of the utmost importance.
On Saturday they quit work at noon to go to town. Bob asked his uncle
if he were going to take Mr. Brady's contract and show it to Mr.
White, the banker.
"The bank closes at noon on Saturdays, Bob," replied his uncle, "and
we're to be pretty busy, Bettie and I, buying our things, for we're
getting new furniture for the house, and I want to bring it back with
me."
"Perhaps Mr. White doesn't go out of town on Saturday and I could find
him at his home," said Bob. "I think we ought to have the matter
settled before Mr. Brady gets here on Monday morning with his tools.
It might make some difference if he started work before the agreement
is signed."
"All right, Bob, you take the contract and try to find him. I'll be
too busy loading the furniture to bother with it."
So as soon as he arrived in town, Bob left the wagon in front of the
furniture store where his uncle, who had driven in with Miss Atwood in
the buggy, was waiting. He hurried over to the First National Bank.
The bank seemed to be closed, but the entrance door was unlocked, and
after some time he found the banker in the directors' room going over
some papers.
"Back already for your money, Bob?" laughed the banker, as he opened
the door to admit him.
"No, Mr. White, I haven't yet found a better investment for the money.
I came to see you about our sand pit. A Mr. Brady, who says he has the
contract to build some bridges for the new railroad, wants to buy our
sand and we have made a bargain with him and he put it in writing. We
didn't sign it, for while it seems to be all right, Uncle Joe would
like to have you look it over first."
"Oh, indeed," replied the banker, "and whose idea was it that I should
read the contract before signing?"
"Well," hesitated Bob, "we thought maybe it would be better to be sure
it was all right since you're loaning Uncle Joe money for the farm."
"That's right, Bob; that's only fair. Follow out that principle and
you'll always get along."
He took the paper and read it through carefully and laid it down. Then
he reflected a moment, picked it up and read it again. Then he
whistled softly.
"You're right, Bob, in bringing this to me," he said, tapping the top
of the table thoughtfully with the end of his pencil. "That contract
is very well written.
"You see, Bob," said the banker, laying the document on the table,
"this contract would be all right if you were sure you had enough sand
and gravel to supply Mr. Brady's wants, but you will notice that he
does not specify how much material he expected to use, nor does he
state when he will require it, and if he took a notion to measure all
the sand you have in the pit and issue a receipt for it, he could take
it and let it lie on your ground for re-sale; he could do that under
this agreement. Also, if you didn't have as much material as he
wanted, he could compel you to supply him from other sources at the
rate of fifty cents a yard."
"Well, what had we better do about it, Mr. White?" inquired Bob. "Mr.
Brady's going to go to work on the ditch on Monday morning. He's
setting up his caterpillar steam shovel now and getting ready."
"Wait a moment," said the banker, as he pressed the button. "I'll see
if my stenographer has gone. She usually leaves at noon, but to-day I
had some extra work that she stayed to finish--no, here she comes--
we'll have it re-written."
"Will you kindly make two copies of this agreement, Miss Brown?" asked
the banker.
"You see, Bob, there should always be two copies of all agreements--
one fer yourself and one for the other party to the contract. It is
always best to have all agreements in duplicate."
"You see, Bob," said the banker, as he finished dictating, "I've added
a time limit to the contract. A year from now, when I hope they will
begin making concrete county roads, your sand and gravel, if the
supply holds out, ought to be worth at least $1.00 per cubic yard."
"I had no idea sand and gravel were so valuable" said Bob.
"Well, I've been looking the matter up a bit lately," replied the
banker, "and I wouldn't be surprised if you could get that price for
it a year from now--maybe before that even. There isn't a great deal
of good sand and gravel in the entire county--certainly none that is
as good as yours. If you've something else you'd like to do, Bob, you
may stop around in an hour or so and get these contracts. I'll read
them over after Miss Brown has them finished, and put my O. K. on
them. I may not be here when you return."
Bob hastened to the store to impart the information he had obtained to
his uncle, but found him so busy loading the farm wagon with his new
purchases that Bob had to explain the matter to him several times
before he seemed to understand.
At four o'clock Bob returned to the bank and received the corrected
copies from the president, who was still there.
"How much do we owe you, Mr. White, for doing this for us?" asked Bob.
"Oh, I don't think I'll charge you anything for this, Bob, although it
is worth something to know how to do a thing right, but since I've
decided to make our bank the headquarters for farmers, we expect to do
little things like this for our friends, so you're welcome to whatever
the service is worth."
"Well, I'm sure we didn't expect you to do it for nothing," replied
Bob, "and I know Uncle Joe will be pleased that you fixed it up for
him."
"By the way, Bob," said the banker, "you might tell your uncle that
there's going to be a sale of some purebred and grade Holstein cattle
next week on a farm in the southern part of the county, and that I'd
like to have him bid them in. There are ten young cows and a fine
bull--just the kind he should have to start a herd on his farm."
At the mention of the purebreds, Bob's eyes sparkled, but after
reflecting a moment he replied:
"Uncle Joe'll not have money enough to buy any now, Mr. White, and
besides, he doesn't think there's much advantage in purebred over
ordinary cattle."
"You tell your Uncle Joe that the First National Bank is back of him
and we'll loan him the necessary money to buy these cattle, and that I
think he should replace his present herd of old common cattle with
young purebred stock--that it will pay him to do so. He can get back a
part of their cost by selling off his present herd. I've about come to
the conclusion, Bob, that there's more money in that sand pit of your
Uncle Joe's than either you or he have any idea. Tell him the sale
will be next Tuesday, and if he'll come in early in the morning, I'll
drive him down in my automobile. We can get back easy by noon, so
he'll only lose half a day. I know all about these cattle--they're a
first-class healthy herd. The man that owned them died, and his widow
is selling off all their stock."
"All right, Mr. White, I'll tell him," said Bob. "Thank you for your
advice about the contract."
"I want to see that farm of your uncle's, Bob, improved and well
stocked this year--first on account of the benefit he'll get from it
and second on account of the influence it will have on the neighboring
farms. We've lots of good farms around here, Bob, and I want a model
one for the others to pattern after. All our farms need to make them
pay well is wide-awake farmers, with a constructive bank back of them
to give them the necessary financial help to get started. I've decided
that the First National is going to be that bank, and stand back of
all farmers in this county who'll make real improvements.
"Your uncle's farm I've picked out to start with, on account of his
having that gravel pit, which will make it possible to build his new
buildings and pay off the mortgage quickly. Of course, the others must
necessarily go slower in their improvements, but when we finish with
your uncle this fall, Bob, we'll have the others all so jealous
they'll just naturally get into line."
VIII
THE SALE