Ranching For Sylvia Volume-554 - Harold Bindloss (best black authors TXT) 📗

Looking Dejected And Worn.

 

"Will You Come Back With Me And Wait For Supper?" He Asked.  "I'd Be

Glad Of A Talk."

 

"I Think Not," Said George.  "You're On The Far Side Of The Town And

There Are Two Streets To Cross; You See, I'm Going To Brandon, And I'll

Take Enough Gumbo Into The Cars With Me, As It Is.  Then My Train

Leaves In Half An Hour.  I Suppose I Mustn't Ask You To Come Into The

Queen's?"

 

"No," Said The Clergyman.  "Our Old Guard Won't Tolerate The Smallest

Compromise With The Enemy, And There's A Good Deal To Be Said For Their

Point Of View.  After All, Half-Measures Have Seldom Much Result; A Man

Must Be One Thing Or Another.  But We Might Try The New Waiting-Room At

The Station."

 

The Little Room Proved To Be Dry And Comparatively Clean, Besides Being

Furnished With Nicely Made And Comfortable Seats.  Leaning Back In One

Near The Stove, George Turned To His Companion.

 

"How Are Things Going Round Here?" He Asked.

 

"Very Much As I Expected; We Tried And Failed To Apply A Check In Time,

And Of Late We Have Had A Regular Outbreak Of Lawlessness.  At First

Sight, It's Curious, Considering That Three-Fourths Of The Inhabitants

Of The District Are Steady, Industrious Folk, And A Proportion Of The

Rest Are Capable Of Being Useful Citizens."

 

"Then How Do You Account For The Disorder?"

Volume 554 Chapter 22 (The Spread Of Disorder) Pg 166

Hardie Looked Thoughtful.

 

"I Suppose We All Have A Tendency To Follow A Lead, Which Is Often

Useful In An Organized State Of Society; Though It Depends On The Lead.

By Way Of Counter-Balance, We Have A Certain Impatience Of Restraint.

Granting This, You Can See That When The General Tone Of A Place Is One

Of Sobriety And Order, People Who Have Not Much Love For Either Find It

More Or Less Easy To Conform.  But, If You Set Them A Different

Example, One That Slackens Restrictions Instead Of Imposing Them,

They'll Follow It, And It Somehow Seems To Be The Rule That The

Turbulent Element Exerts The Stronger Influence.  Anyway, It Becomes

The More Prominent.  You Hear Of The Fellow Who Steals A Horse In A

Daring Manner; The Man Who Quietly Goes On With His Plowing Excites No

Notice."

 

"One Must Agree With That," George Replied.  "Popular Feeling's Fickle;

A Constant Standard Is Needed To Adjust It By."

 

Hardie Smiled.

 

"It Was Given Us Long Ago.  But I Can't Believe That There's Much

General Sympathy With These Troublesome Fellows.  What I Complain Of Is

Popular Apathy; Nobody Feels It His Business To Interfere; Though This

State Of Things Can't Continue.  The Patience Of Respectable People

Will Wear Out; And Then One Can Look For Drastic Developments."

 

"In The Meanwhile, The Other Crowd Are Having Their Fling."

 

Hardie Nodded.

 

"That's Unfortunately True, Though The Lawbreakers Have Now And Then

Come Off Second-Best.  A Few Days Ago, Wilkie, The Station-Agent, Was

Sitting In His Office When A Man Who Had Some Grievance Against The

Railroad Walked Up To The Window.  Wilkie Told Him He Must Send His

Claim To Winnipeg, And The Fellow Retorted That He Would Have

Satisfaction Right Away Out Of The Agent's Hide.  With That, He Climbed

In Through The Window; And I Must Confess To A Feeling Of Satisfaction

When I Heard That He Left The Station In Need Of Medical Assistance.  A

Week Earlier, Taunton, Of The Store, Was Walking Home Along The Track

In The Dark After Collecting Some Of His Accounts, When A Man Jumped

Out From Behind A Stock Of Ties With A Pistol And Demanded His Wallet.

Taunton, Taken By Surprise, Produced A Wad Of Bills, But The Thief Was

A Little Too Eager Or Careless In Seizing Them, For Taunton Grabbed The

Pistol And Got His Money Back.  After That, He Marched The Man Three

Miles Along The Track And Into His Store.  I Don't Know What Happened

Then, But I Heard That There Were Traces Of A Pretty Lively Scuffle."

 

George Laughed, But His Companion Continued More Gravely:

 

"Then We Have Had A Number Of Small Disturbances When The Men From The

New Link Line Came Into Town--They've Graded The Track To Within A Few

Miles Now--And I Hold Beamish Responsible; They Haven't Encouraged

These Fellows At The Queen's.  In Fact, I Mean To Walk Over And Try To

Volume 554 Chapter 22 (The Spread Of Disorder) Pg 167

Get A Few Words With Them As Soon As I Leave You."

 

"One Would Hardly Think Saturday Evening A Very Good Time," George

Commented.

 

His Train Came In Shortly Afterward, And When It Had Gone Hardie Went

Home For A Rubber Coat, And Then Took The Trail Leading Out Of The

Settlement.  He Was Forced To Trudge Through The Tangled Grass Beside

It Because The Soft Gumbo Soil Stuck To His Boots In Great Black Lumps,

And The Patches Of Dwarf Brush Through Which He Must Smash Made

Progress Laborious.  After A While, However, He Saw A Long Trail Of

Black Smoke Ahead, And Sounds Of Distant Activity Grew Steadily Louder.

 

There Was An Angry Red Glare On The Western Horizon, Though The Light

Was Beginning To Fade, When He Reached The End Of The New Line And

Found A Crowd Of Men Distributing Piles Of Gravel And Spiking Down The

Rails Which Ran Back, Gleaming In The Sunset, Lurid, Straight And

Level, Across The Expanse Of Grass, Until They Were Lost In The Shadowy

Mass Of A Bluff.  Near The Men Stood A Few Jaded Teams And Miry Wagons;

Farther On A Row Of Freight-Cars Occupied A Side-Track, A Little Smoke

Rising From The Stacks On The Roofs Of One Or Two.  Their Doors Were

Open, And On Passing, Hardie Noticed The Dirty Blue Blankets And The

Litter Of Wet Clothing In The Rude Bunks.  As He Approached The Last

Car, Which Served As Store And Office, A Man Sprang Down Upon The Line.

He Wore Wet Long Boots And An Old Rubber Coat Stained With Soil, But

There Was A Stamp Of Authority Upon His Bronzed Face.

 

"How Are You Getting On, Mr. Farren?" Hardie Inquired.

 

"Slowly," Said The Other; "Can't Catch Up On Schedule Contract Time.

We've Had Rain And Heavy Soil Ever Since We Began.  The Boys Have Been

Giving Me Some Trouble, Too."

 

"You Won't Mind My Having A Few Words With Them?"

 

"Why, No," Said Farren.  "Guess They Need It; But I'm Most Afraid

You'll Be Wasting Time.  The Scandinavians, Who're Quiet Enough And

Might Agree With You, Can't Understand, And It's Quite Likely That The

Crowd You Want To Get At Won't Listen.  Anyway, You Can Try It After

They've Dubbed The Load Off The Gravel Train; She's Coming Now."

 

He Pointed Toward A Smear Of Smoke That Trailed Away Across The

Prairie.  It Grew Rapidly Blacker And Nearer, And Presently A Grimy

Locomotive With A Long String Of Clattering Cars Behind It Came Down

The Uneven Track.  It Had Hardly Stopped When The Sides Of The Low Cars

Dropped, And A Plow Moved Forward From One To Another, Hurling Off

Masses Of Gravel That Fell With A Roar.  Then The Train, Backing Out,

Came To A Standstill Again, And A Swarm Of Men Became Busy About The

Line.  Dusk Was Falling, But The Blaze Of The Great Electric Light On

The Locomotive Streamed Along The Track.  While Hardie Stood Watching,

Half A Dozen Men Dropped Their Tools And Walked Up To His Companion.

 

"We're Through With Our Lot," Announced One.  "We're Going To The Butte

And We'll Trouble You For A Sub Of Two Dollars A Man."

Volume 554 Chapter 22 (The Spread Of Disorder) Pg 168

"You Won't Get It," Said Farren Shortly.  "I Want The Ties Laid On The

Next Load."

 

"Then You Can Send Somebody Else To Fix Them.  We're Doing More Than We

Booked For."

 

"You're Getting Paid For It."

 

"Shucks!" Said The Other Contemptuously.  "What We Want Is An Evening

At The Butte; And We're Going To Have It!  Hand Over The Two Dollars."

 

"No, Sir," Said Farren.  "I've Given In Once Or Twice And I've Got No

Work Out Of You For Most Two Days Afterward.  You Can Quit Tie-Laying,

If You Insist; But You'll Get No Money Until Pay-Day."

 

One Of The Men Pulled Out His Watch.

 

"Boys," He Said, "If We Stop Here Talking, There Won't Be Much Time

Left For A Jag When We Make The Butte.  Are You Going To Let Him Bluff

You?"

 

The Growl From The Others Was Ominous.  They Had Been Working Long

Hours At High Pressure In The Rain, And Had Suffered In Temper.  One Of

Them Strode Forward And Grasped Farren's Shoulder.

 

"Now," He Demanded, "Hand Out!  It's Our Money."

 

There Was Only One Course Open To Farren.  His Position Was Not An Easy

One, And If He Yielded, His Authority Would Be Gone.

 

His Left Arm Shot Out And The Man Went Down With A Crash.  Then The

Others Closed With Him And A Savage Struggle Began.

 

Hardie Laid Hold Of A Man Who Had Picked Up An Iron Bar, And Managed To

Wrest It From Him, But Another Struck Him Violently On The Head, And He

Had A Very Indistinct Idea Of What Went On During The Next Minute Or

Two.  There Was A Struggling Knot Of Men Pressed Against The Side Of

The Car, But It Broke Up When More Figures Came Running Up And One Man

Cried Out Sharply As He Was Struck By A Heavy Lump Of Gravel.  Then

Hardie Found Himself Kneeling Beside Farren, Who Lay Senseless Near The

Wheels With The Blood Running Down His Set White Face.  Behind Him

Stood The Panting Locomotive Engineer, Trying To Hold Back The Growing

Crowd.

 

"Looks Pretty Bad," He Said.  "What's To Be Done With Him?"

 

"We Had Better Get Him Into His Bunk," Directed Hardie.  "Then I'll

Make For The Butte As Fast As I Can And Bring The Doctor Out."

 

"It Would Take Two Hours," Objected The Engineer, As He Gently Removed

Farren's Hat.  "Strikes Me As A Mighty Ugly Gash; The Thing Must Be

Looked To Right Away.  If I Let Her Go, Throttle Wide, We Ought To Make

Carson In Half An Hour, And They've A Smart Doctor There."  He Said