Ranching For Sylvia Volume-554 - Harold Bindloss (best black authors TXT) 📗
- Author: Harold Bindloss
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Langside's Farm Was Duly Put Up At Auction, Together With A Valuable
Team Which He Hired Out To His Neighbors When He Left The Place, A Few
Implements And A Little Rude Furniture. The Sale Was Held Outside, And
When George Arrived Upon The Scene During The Afternoon A Row Of Light
Wagons And Buggies Stood Behind The Rickety Shack, Near Which Was An
Unsightly Pile Of Broken Crockery, Discarded Clothes And Rusty
Provision Cans. It Was Characteristic Of Langside That He Had Not
Taken The Trouble To Carry Them As Far As The Neighboring Bluff. In
Front Of The Bluff, Horses Were Picketed; Along The Side Ran A Strip Of
Black Soil, Sprinkled With The Fresh Blades Of Wheat; And All Round The
Rest Of The Wide Circle The Prairie Stretched Away Under Cloudless
Sunshine, Flecked With Brightest Green.
A Thin Crowd Surrounded The Auctioneer's Table, But The Men Stood In
Loose Clusters, And George, Walking Through Them, Noticed That The
Undesirable Element Was Largely Represented. There Were A Number Of
Small Farmers, Attracted By Curiosity, Or Perhaps A Wish To Buy; But
These Kept To Themselves, And Men From The Settlement Of No Fixed
Profession Who Worked Spasmodically At Different Tasks, And Spent The
Rest Of Their Time In The Sachem, Were More Plentiful. Besides These,
There Were Some Strangers, And George Thought The Appearance Of Several
Was Far From Prepossessing.
It Was A Glorious Day. There Was Vigor In The Warm Breeze That Swept
The Grassy Waste; The Sunshine That Bathed The Black Loam Where The
Green Blades Were Springing Up Seemed Filled With Promise; But As The
Sale Proceeded George Became Sensible Of A Vague Compunction. The
Sight Of The New Wheat Troubled Him--Langside Had Laboriously Sown That
Crop, Which Somebody Else Would Reap. Watching The Battered Domestic
Utensils And Furniture Being Carried Out For Sale Had The Same
Disturbing Effect. Poor And Comfortless As The Shack Was, It Had,
Until Rude Hands Had Desecrated It, Been A Home. George Felt That He
Was Consenting To The Ruin Of A Defenseless Man, Assisting To Drive Him
Forth, A Wanderer And An Outcast. He Wondered How Far The Terrors Of
Loneliness Had Urged Langside Into His Reckless Courses--Homesteaders
Scattered About The Wide, Empty Spaces Occasionally Became Insane--But
With An Effort He Overcame The Sense Of Pity.
Langside Had Slackly Given Way, And, Choosing An Evil Part, Had Become
A Menace To The Community; As Grant Had Said, He Must Go. This Was
Unavoidable, And Though The Duty Of Getting Rid Of Him Was Painful, It
Must Be Carried Out. George Was Usually Unsuspicious And Of Easy-Going
Nature Up To A Certain Point, But There Was A Vein Of Hardness In Him.
Once Or Twice The Auctioneer Was Interrupted By Jeering Cries, But He
Kept His Temper And The Sale Went On, Though George Noticed That Only A
Few Strangers Made Any Purchases. At Length, When The Small Sundries
Had Been Cleared Off, There Was A Curious Silence As The Land Was Put
Up. It Was Evident That The Majority Of Those Present Had Been Warned
Not To Bid.
Volume 554 Chapter 25 (A Counterstroke) Pg 186The Auctioneer Made A Little Speech In Praise Of The Property, And
Paused When It Fell Flat; Then, While George Wondered What
Understanding The Creditors Had Arrived At With Grant, A Brown-Faced
Stranger Strode Forward.
"I've Been Advised To Let This Place Alone," He Said. "I Suppose You
Have A Right To Sell?"
"Yes, Sir," Replied The Auctioneer. "Come Along, And Look At My
Authority, If You Want. It's Mortgaged Property That Has Been
Foreclosed After The Creditors Had Waited A Long While For A
Settlement, And I May Say That The Interest Demanded Is Under The
Present Market Rate. Everything's Quite Regular; No Injustice Has Been
Done. If You're A Purchaser, I'll Take Your Bid."
"Then I'll Raise You A Hundred Dollars," Said The Man.
There Was A Growl Of Dissatisfaction, And The Stranger Turned To The
Part Of The Crowd From Which It Proceeded.
"This Is An Open Auction, Boys. I Was Born In The Next Province, And
I've Seen A Good Many Farms Seized In The Years When We Have Had
Harvest Frost, But This Is The First Time I Ever Saw Anybody Try To
Interfere With A Legal Sale. Guess You May As Well Quit Yapping,
Unless You Mean To Bid Against Me."
There Was Derisive Laughter, And A Loafer From Sage Butte Threw A Clod.
Then Another Growl, More Angry Than The First, Broke Out As Grant,
Moving Forward Into A Prominent Place, Nodded To The Auctioneer. His
Rugged Face Was Impassive, And He Ignored The Crowd. A Number Of The
Farmers Strolled Toward Him And Stood Near By With A Resolute Air Which
Had Its Effect On The Others, Though George Saw By Grant's Look Of
Surprise That He Had Not Expected This. Another Man Made A Bid, And
The Competition Proceeded Languidly, But Except For A Little Mocking
Laughter And An Occasional Jeer, Nobody Interfered. In The End, The
Stranger Bought The Land; And Soon Afterward Grant Walked Up To George.
"I Want The Team, If I Can Get It At A Reasonable Figure; They're Real
Good Beasts With The Imported Percheron Strain Strong In Them," He
Said. "It Will Be A While Before They're Put Up, And I'd Be Glad If
You Could Ride Round And Let Flora Know What's Keeping Me. I'd An Idea
She Expected There Might Be Some Trouble To-Day."
"I'll Get Off; But There's A Mower Yonder I Would Like. Will You Buy
It For Me, If It Goes At A Fair Price?"
"Certainly," Promised Grant. "Tell Flora To Give You Supper; And If
You Ride Back Afterward By The Trail, You'll Meet Me And I'll Let You
Know About The Mower."
George Rode Away Shortly Afterward, And Grant Waited Some Time Before
He Secured The Team, After Rather Determined Opposition. Finding
Nobody Willing To Lead The Horses Home, He Hitched Them To The Back Of
Volume 554 Chapter 25 (A Counterstroke) Pg 187His Light Wagon And Set Off At A Leisurely Pace. When He Had Gone A
Little Distance, He Overtook A Man Plodding Along The Trail. The
Fellow Stopped When Grant Came Up.
"Will You Give Me A Lift?" He Asked.
The Request Is Seldom Refused On The Prairie, And Grant Pulled Up His
Team.
"Get In," He Said. "Where Are You Going?"
"North," Answered The Other, As He Clambered Up. "Looking For A Job;
Left The Railroad Yesterday And Spent The Night In A Patch Of Scrub.
Heard There Was Stock In The Bluff Country; That's My Line."
Grant Glanced At The Fellow Sharply As He Got Into The Wagon And
Noticed Nothing In His Disfavor. His Laconic Account Of Himself Was
Borne Out By His Appearance.
"It's Quite A Way To The First Homestead, If You're Making For The Big
Bluffs," He Said. "You Had Better Come Along With Me And Go On In The
Morning."
"I'll Be Glad," Responded The Other. "These Nights Are Pretty Cold,
And My Blanket's Thin."
They Drove On, And After A While The Stranger Glanced At The Team
Hitched Behind The Vehicle.
"Pretty Good Beasts," He Remarked. "That Mare's A Daisy. Ought To Be
Worth A Pile."
"She Cost It," Grant Told Him. "I've Just Bought Her At A Sale."
"I Heard The Boys Talking About It When I Was Getting Dinner At The
Settlement," Said The Stranger Carelessly. "Called The Fellow Whose
Place Was Sold Up Langside, I Think. There's Nothing Much Wrong With
The Team You're Driving."
Grant Nodded; They Were Valuable Animals, For He Was Fond Of Good
Horses. He Was Well Satisfied With His New Purchases And Knew That
Langside Had Bought The Mare After A Profitable Haulage Contract During
The Building Of A New Railroad. His Companion's Flattering Opinion
Made Him Feel Rather Amiable Toward Him.
It Was Getting Near Dusk When They Entered A Strip Of Broken Country,
Where The Ground Was Sandy And Lolled In Low Ridges And Steep Hillocks.
Here And There Small Pines On The Higher Summits Stood Out Black
Against The Glaring Crimson Light; Birches And Poplars Straggled Up
Some Of The Slopes; And The Trail, Which Wound Through The Hollows, Was
Loose And Heavy. The Moist Sand Clogged The Wheels And The Team
Plodded Through It Laboriously, Until They Came To A Spot Where The
Melted Snow Running Into A Depression Had Formed A Shallow Lake. This
Had Dried Up, But The Soil Was Very Soft And Marshy. Grant Pulled Up
Volume 554 Chapter 25 (A Counterstroke) Pg 188And Glanced Dubiously At The Deep Ruts Cut In The Road.
"There's A Way Round Through The Sand And Scrub, But It's Mighty Rough
And I'm Not Sure We Could Get Through It In The Dark," He Said.
"S'pose You Double-Yoke And Drive Straight Ahead," Suggested The Other.
"I See You Have Some Harness In The Wagon."
Grant Considered. The Harness, Which Had Been Thrown In With His
Purchase, Was Old And Short Of One Or Two Pieces; It Would Take Time
And Some Contriving To Hitch On The Second Team, And The Light Was
Failing Rapidly. When He Had Crossed The Soft Place, There Would Still
Be Some Rough Ground To Traverse Before He Reached The Smoother Trail
By Which George Would Be Riding.
"It Might Be As Quick To Go Round," He Replied.
"No, Sir," Said His Companion, Firmly. "There's A Blamed Steep Bit Up
The Big Sandhill."
Suspicion Flashed On Grant; The Man Had Led Him To Believe He Was A
Stranger To The Locality, And It Was Significant That He Should Insist
Upon Their Stopping And Harnessing The Second Team.
"That's So," He Returned. "Guess You Had Better Get Down And See If
It's Very Soft Ahead."
The Fellow Rose With A Promptness Which Partly Disarmed Grant's
Suspicions, And Put His Foot On The Edge Of The Vehicle, Ready To Jump
Down. Then He Turned
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