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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/25960-8.txt b/25960-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6073210 --- /dev/null +++ b/25960-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5774 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Desert Fiddler, by William H. Hamby + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Desert Fiddler + +Author: William H. Hamby + +Release Date: July 3, 2008 [EBook #25960] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DESERT FIDDLER *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: Charles Ray as Bob Rogeen, + and Barbara Bedford as Imogene Chandler.] + + + + + + +THE DESERT FIDDLER + + +BY + +WILLIAM H. HAMBY + + + + +PHOTOPLAY TITLE + +PERCY + + + + ILLUSTRATED WITH SCENES + FROM THE PHOTOPLAY + A THOS. H. INCE PRODUCTION + RELEASED BY PATHÉ PICTURES + + + + +NEW YORK + +GROSSET & DUNLAP + +PUBLISHERS + + + + +COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY + +CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY + + +COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY + +DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY + + + +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + + +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES + +AT + +THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y. + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +Charles Ray as Bob Rogeen, and + Barbara Bedford as Imogene Chandler . . . _Frontispiece_ + +Jenkins and Lolita awed by Percy's fiddling. + +Lolita tries her wiles on Percy. + +Reedy Jenkins makes a proposition to Imogene. + +A mutual discovery--they both cared. + +Holy Joe shanghaies Imogene's ranchmen and discovers + Percy--a willing ally. + +"Make it plain to the Chandler girl that this is her + last chance to sell before I ruin her crop." + +"Shut off the water? Why all the cotton in the valley + will be withered in a day." + + + + +THE DESERT FIDDLER + + +CHAPTER I + +Bob Rogeen slept in the east wing of the squat adobe house. About +midnight there was a vigorous and persistent shaking of the screen door. + +"Yes?" he called, sleepily. + +"They have just telephoned in from the Red Butte Ranch"--it was Dayton, +his employer, at the door--"the engine on that tractor has balked. +They want a man out there by daylight to fix it." + +Bob put up his arms and stretched, and replied yawningly: + +"Well, I guess I'm the fixer." + +"I guess you are," agreed the implement dealer. "You know the way, +don't you? Better ride the gray; and don't forget to take your gun." +The boss crossed the _patio_ to his own wing of the house. + + +The young fellow sat up and kicked along under the edge of the bed, +feeling for his shoes. + +"A love--lee time to go to work," he growled, good-naturedly. "Here is +where the early bird catches the tractor--and the devil." + +When he came out of the door a few minutes later, buttoning his +corduroy coat--even in Imperial Valley, which knows no winter, one +needs a coat on a March night--Rogeen stood for a moment on the step +and put up his long arms again to stretch some of the deep sleep from +his muscles. He was not at all enthusiastic about odd jobs at +midnight; but in a moment his eyes fell on the slanting moonlight that +shone mistily on the chinaberry tree in the _patio_; the town on the +American side was fast asleep; the wind with the smell of sagebrush +stirred a clump of bamboo. The desert night had him--and when he rode +away toward the Mexican line he had forgotten his gun and taken his +fiddle. + +He passed through Mexicali, the Mexican town, where the saloons were +still open and the lights over the Red Owl, the great gambling hall, +winked with glittering sleeplessness; and out upon the road by the +irrigation canal, fringed with cottonwood and willows. + +He let the reins drop over the saddlehorn, and brought the fiddle round +in front of him. There was no hurry, he would be there before +daylight. And he laughed as he ran his right thumb over the strings: + +"What a combination--a fool, a fiddle, and a tractor." + +Bob could not explain what impulse had made him bring a fiddle with him +on the way to mend a balky gasoline engine. As a youth--they had +called him rather a wild youth--he had often ridden through the Ozark +hills at night time with his fiddle under his arm. But in the last +eight years he had played the thing only once, and that once had come +so near finishing him that he still carried the receipt of the +undertaker who came to bury him the next day. + +"Oh, well," Bob grinned into the night as he threw his right knee over +the saddlehorn and put the fiddle to his shoulder, "we'll see how she +goes once more." + +For three miles he rode leisurely on, a striking figure in the dim +moonlight--a tall young man on a gray horse, fiddling wildly to the +desert night. + +He crossed the bridge over the main canal, left the fringe of +cottonwood and willow, and turned across the open toward the Red Butte +Ranch. The fiddle was under his arm. Then he saw a shack in the open +field to the right of the road. It was one of those temporary +structures of willow poles and arrow weed that serve for a house for +the renter on the Mexican side. The setting moon was at its back, and +the open doorway showed only as a darker splotch. He lifted the fiddle +again. "Chinaboy, Jap, Hindu, Poor Man, Rich Man, Beggar Man or +Mexican--I'll give you a serenade all the samee." + +The gleeful melody had scarcely jigged its way into the desert night +when, in the black splotch of the doorway, a figure appeared--a woman +in a white nightdress. Swiftly Bob changed the jig tune into a real +serenade, a clear, haunting, calling melody. The figure stood straight +and motionless in the dark doorway as long as he could see. Someway he +knew it was a white woman and that she was young. + +He put the fiddle back in the bag and turned in his saddle to mark the +location of the hut in his mind--there was a clump of eucalyptus trees +just north of it. Yes, he would know the place, and he would learn +tomorrow who lived there. That listening figure had caught his +imagination. + +But again he grinned into the night, ruefully this time as he +remembered the disaster that had followed his last two experiences with +this diabolical instrument of glee and grief. + +"Oh, well," he shook his head determinedly and threw his leg across the +saddle, "the first time was with a preacher; the second with a gun; now +we'll give the lady a chance." + +The fiddle and the figure in the doorway had stirred in Bob a lot of +reflections. At twenty he had given up his music and most of the +careless fun that went with it, because a sudden jolt had made him see +that to win through he must fight and not fiddle. For eight years he +had worked tremendously hard at half a dozen jobs across half a dozen +states; and there had been plenty of fighting. But what had he won?--a +job as a hardware clerk at twenty dollars a week. + +"Oh, well"--he had learned to give the Mexican shrug of the +shoulder--"twenty dollars in a land of opportunity is better than fifty +where everything is already fixed." + +That must be the Red Butte Ranch across yonder. He turned into the +left-hand fork of the road. + +"Hello, there!" A tall, rambling fellow rose up from the side of the +road. "Are you the good Samaritan or merely one of the thieves?" + +"Neither," replied Bob, guessing this was a messenger from the Red +Butte, "but I work for both. Where is your balky tractor?" + +"This way." The rambling fellow turned to the right and started down +the road, talking over his left shoulder: + +"I'm the chauffeur of that blamed tractor--I told Old Benson I didn't +know any more about it than he does of the New Jerusalem; but he put me +at it anyhow. + +"I'm a willin' cuss. But the main trouble with me is I ain't got no +brains. If I had, I wouldn't be on this job, and if I was, I could fix +the darn thing myself. + +"My dad," continued the guide, "was purty strong on brains, but I +didn't take after him much. If I was as posted on tractors as the old +man was on hell fire, I wouldn't need you." + +Something in this hill billy's tone stirred in Bob a sudden +recollection. + +"Was he a preacher?" + +"Yep, named Foster, and I'm his wandering boy to-night." + +Bob lifted his head and laughed. It was a queer world. He inquired +about the trouble with the tractor. + +"I sure hope you can fix it," said Noah Ezekiel. "Old Benson will +swear bloody-murder if we don't get the cotton in before the tenth of +April. He wants to unload the lease." + +The sun was scarcely an hour high when the steady, energetic chuck, +chuck of the tractor engine told Bob his work was done. He shut it +off, and turned to Noah Ezekiel. + +"There you are--as good as new. And it is worth ten men and forty +mules. Not much like we used to farm back in the Ozarks, is it?" + +"We?" Noah Ezekiel rubbed his lean jaw and looked questioningly at the +fixer. "I'm from the Ozarks, but as the silk hat said to the ash can, +'Where in hell does the _we_ come in?'" + +"You don't happen to remember me?" There was a humorous quirk at the +corner of Rogeen's mouth as he stood wiping the oil and grease from his +hands with a bunch of dry grass. + +The shambling hill billy took off his floppy-brimmed straw hat and +scratched his head as he studied Bob with the careless but always alert +blue eyes of the mountain-turkey hunter--eyes that never miss the turn +of a leaf nor forget a trail. + +Those eyes began at the feet, took in the straight waistline, the +well-knit shoulders. Bob weighed a hundred and eighty and looked as +though he were put together to stay. For a moment Noah Ezekiel studied +the friendly mouth, the resolute nose, the frank brown eyes; but not +until they concentrated on the tangled mop of dark hair did a light +dawn on the hill billy's face. + +"Well, I'll be durned!" The exclamation was deep and soul-satisfying, +and he held out his hand. "If you ain't Fiddlin' Bob Rogeen, I'll eat +my hat!" + +"Save your hat." Bob met the recognition with a friendly grin. + +"I never saw you but once," reflected Noah Ezekiel, "and that was the +Sunday at Mt. Pisgah when my dad lambasted you in his sermon for +fiddlin' for the dance Saturday night." + +"That sermon," Bob's smile was still a little rueful, "lost me the best +job I had ever had." + +"Oh, well," consoled the hill billy, "if you hadn't lost it somethin' +might have fell on you. That's what I always think when I have to move +on." And he repeated with a nonchalant air a nonsensical hill parody: + + _I eat when I'm hungry, + I drink when I'm dry, + And if a tree don't fall on me + I'll live till I die._ + + +Then his eyes veered round to Bob's fiddle lying to one side on the +grass. + +"I notice," he grinned, "dad did not convert you." + +"No," said Bob, "but he cured me--almost. I've only played the thing +twice since." + +Rogeen picked up his fiddle and started for his horse. + +"Well, so long, Noah. You've got a nice place to work out here." His +eyes swept almost covetously over the five-thousand-acre ranch, level +as a floor, not a stump or a stone. "If I had this ranch I'd raise six +thousand bales of cotton a year, or know the reason why." + +"That ain't what the last fellow said," remarked the hill billy, +grinningly. "Reedy Jenkins was out yesterday figuring on buyin' the +lease; and he said: 'If I had it--I'd raise the rent.'" + + + + +CHAPTER II + +Bob was out in front of the hardware store dressed in a woollen shirt +and overalls, and bareheaded, setting up a cotton planter, when an old +gentleman in a linen duster, who had been pacing restlessly up and down +the walk like a distant relative waiting for the funeral procession to +start, stopped on the sidewalk to watch him work. Whether it was the +young man's appearance, his whistling at his work or merely the way he +used his hands that attracted the old gentleman was not certain. But +after a moment he remarked in a crabbedly friendly tone: + +"Young man, you know your business." + +"The other fellow's business, you mean," replied Bob without looking up +from the bolt he was adjusting. "It is not mine, you know." Bob had +been repeating during the last two days the remark of the hill +billy--"I'm a willin' cuss, but I ain't got no brains." He had begun +to wonder if he was not in the same wagon. He had always thought he +had brains, but here he was at twenty-eight no better off than the hill +billy. Perhaps not as well, for Noah Ezekiel Foster was getting more +per month for riding one tractor than Bob was for selling twenty. + +The old gentleman made a noise in his throat that corresponded to a +chuckle in a less belligerent man. + +"Do you sell farm machinery over there?" The store faced the line; and +he nodded toward the Mexican side. + +"Yes," answered Bob. + +"Know the country pretty well?" + +"Yes." The young man rose up with the wrench in his hand, and looked +for the first time into the gray-blue eyes under the bushy iron-gray +brows. "The country is the same as it is on this side. The people +somewhat different." + +"Any good chances to invest money over there?" asked the old gentleman. + +"I suppose so." Bob stopped to pick up another nut and started to +screw it on. "I'm not bothered much hunting for investments. But I +reckon there is a chance for a man with money anywhere." + +"To spend it," added the other fellow, sharply. "Any place will do for +a fool and his money to part. But, young man, it is easier to earn +money with brains than it is to keep it without them." + +Bob's eyes looking past the old gentleman saw a youngish woman dressed +in widow's weeds--very expensive weeds--coming rapidly down the walk +from the hotel, and knew she was coming for the old man. As she came +nearer, Bob saw she had tawny yellow hair, with slate-coloured eyes and +a pious mouth. Her carriage was very erect, very ladylike, and +patently she was from the East. + +"Oh, Uncle," she gurgled and, as the old gentleman turned, with a +little burst of enthusiasm she threw her arms about his neck. + +"When did you get in, Evy?" The old gentleman managed to disengage the +arms without giving the appearance of heartlessness. His voice was +crabbed, but sounded as though it might be from the length of the vocal +cords rather than the shortness of disposition. + +"Last night." There was an aggrieved touch of self-denying complaint +in the tone. "And the little hotel is perfectly wretched. I had such +a horrid room--and I felt so conspicuous alone. The landlady told me +you had been there looking for me this morning before I was up. I'm so +glad to see you, Uncle; just as soon as I heard of poor Aunt Ellen's +death I felt that I must come and look after you at any sacrifice." +There was a slight pause in which the old gentleman did not venture a +remark. "But, Uncle"--there was accusation in the tone--"why did you +ever come out to this awful country? The dust was simply awful--I +think some of my clothes are ruined." + +"The old horse is across the street." The uncle turned and started +toward a very high-powered, expensive car. + +"Who was that old chap?" Bob asked of Dayton, who came up from +breakfast just as the car drove off. + +"That's Jim Crill--Texas oil fields. Staying at El Centro and looking +for a place to drop his money, I hear. But I wonder who's the lady? I +saw her get off the train with Reedy Jenkins yesterday evening." + +"A dear relative," remarked Bob with a grin, "come to take care of him +since his wife died--and he struck oil." + +After a moment--the planter finished--Bob asked casually: + +"Does Benson own the Red Butte Ranch?" + +"No," answered the implement dealer, "it belongs to the Dan Ryan tract. +Dan is one of the very few Americans who has a real title to land on +the Mexican side. When Benson leased it two years ago it was merely +sand hummocks and mesquite, like the rest of the desert. Spent a lot +of money levelling it and getting it ready to water. He lives at Los +Angeles, and is one of those fellows who try to farm with money instead +of brains and elbow grease. Lost a lot on last year's crop, and now he +wants to get rid of his lease." + +Bob had been thinking of that ranch most of the time since he fixed the +tractor. He loved the soil, and surely a man could get real returns +from a field like that. + +"I wonder," he remarked without meeting his employer's eyes, "if he +would sublease it?" + +"Don't know," replied Dayton; "Reedy Jenkins is trying to buy the +lease." + +"Then," thought Bob as his employer went into the store, "Jenkins ought +to offer a market for farm machinery. I'll go up and see him." + +On his way to Jenkins' office Bob's mind was busy with his own personal +problems. He had been struggling with his ambitions a long time and +never could quite figure why he did not get on faster. He had thought +a great deal the last few days about Jim Crill, the old man with bushy +eyebrows--and oil wells. Two or three things the gruff old chap had +said stuck in Bob's mind. He had begun to wonder if it was not just as +easy for a fellow to make a bad investment of his brains and muscles as +it was with his money. "That's it," he said almost aloud at a definite +conclusion; "I haven't been making a good investment of myself. I +wonder if I could sublease that Red Butte Ranch?" + +The more he thought of it, the more anxious he was to get hold of +something he could manage himself. Of course, the idea of farming a +five-thousand-acre ranch without capital was merely a pipe dream; but +still, if Benson was losing money and wanted to get loose from his +lease--it might be possible. + +Reedy Jenkins' office was upstairs and on a back street. It had an +outside stairway, one of those affairs that cling to an outer brick +wall and end in a little iron platform. The only sign on the door was: + + REEDY JENKINS, + Cotton. + + +It did not explain whether Mr. Jenkins raised cotton, bought it, sold +it, ginned it, or merely thought about it. The office was so located +that in a morally crusading town, where caution was necessary, it would +have suggested nocturnal poker. But as it was not necessary for a +poker game in Calexico to be so modestly retiring, Reedy's choice of an +office must be attributed solely to his love of quiet and unostentation. + +As Bob turned up the side street, two people were coming down the iron +stairway--one a dry, thin man who looked as though he might be the +relict of some dead language, wearing a stiff hat and a black alpaca +coat; the other, a girl of more than medium height, who took the narrow +steps with a sort of spring without even touching the iron rail with +her hand, and her eyes were looking out across the town. + +"I beg your pardon," Bob met them at the foot of the stairs, "but can +you tell me if Mr. Jenkins is in?" + +It was the girl who turned to answer, and at one look Bob saw she was +more than interesting--soft light hair, inquisitive eyes, an intuitive +mouth--nothing dry or attenuated about her. + +"Yes," she replied, with a slight twist of the mouth, "Mr. Jenkins is +in. Have you a lease to sell?" + +"No." + +"Then go on up," she said, and turned across the street following the +spindle-legged man who was unhitching two horses. + +"Blooming sunflowers!" exclaimed Bob, his heart taking a quick twist as +she walked away, "as sure as I'm a foot high, that's the girl who stood +in the doorway that night." + +As Bob entered the office Jenkins sat tipped back in a swivel chair, +his left arm resting on his desk, the right free as though it had been +gesturing. Reedy had rather large eyes, a plump, smooth face that was +two shades redder than pink and one shade pinker than red. He always +looked as though he had just shaved, and a long wisp of very black hair +dangled diagonally across the corner of his forehead, such as one often +sees on the storm-tossed head of an impassioned orator who is talking +for the audience and working for himself. + +"Sit down." He waved Bob to a chair. "I've been wanting to have a +talk with you--got a proposition for you." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +Reedy Jenkins lighted a very good cigar and sat studying Rogeen with a +leisurely air. Bob was a good salesman and began at once: "Understand +you have been buying up leases, and I came up to sell you some farm +machinery." + +Reedy took the cigar from his wide mouth and laughed at the joke. "I +don't raise cotton, I leave that to Chinamen--I raise prices. I'm not +a farmer but a financier." + +Then returning the cigar to the corner of his mouth he remarked with a +pink judicialness: + +"I should say you have a way with the ladies." + +Bob blushed. "I never discovered it, if I have." + +"I have, myself." Reedy bit the end of his cigar and nodded with a +doggish appreciation of his own fascination. "But I'm too busy just +now to use it." + +"Rogeen"--Reedy laid the smoking cigar on some papers on his desk and +faced Bob--"I've had my eye on you for some time. I am buying up +leases across the line. I need a good man to work over there. What is +Dayton paying you?" + +"Twenty a week." Bob was surprised at the turn of the conversation. + +"I'll give you a hundred and fifty a month to start, and there'll be a +fine chance for promotion." + +"What am I to do?" inquired Bob. + +"Here is the whole thing in an eggshell. No doubt you are acquainted +with the situation over the line. You know, excepting one or two big +concessions, no Americans own land on the Mexican side. The land is +all farmed under leases and sub-leases. If a Chink or a Jap or a +wandering American hayseed wants to open up a patch of the desert, he +takes a five-year lease. As it costs him from ten to twenty dollars an +acre to clear off the mesquite, level the sand hummocks, and get his +ditches ready for water, he pays only one dollar rent the first year, +two dollars the second, and so on. + +"Now"--Reedy picked up his cigar, puffed a time or two, and looked +speculatively over Bob's head--"if a fellow wants to speculate on the +Mexican side, he doesn't deal in land; he buys and sells leases. That +is my business. Of course, once in a while I take over a crop that is +planted or partly raised, because I have to do it to get the lease. +But you can say on general principles I'm about as much interested in +farming as a ground hog is in Easter. + +"The price of cotton has been low, and for various and sundry other +reasons"--Reedy squinted his large eyes a little mysteriously--"a lot +of the ranchers over there after getting their land in good shape have +got cold feet and are willing to sell leases that have three or four +years yet to run for nearly nothing. + +"I'm acquiring a bunch of them and am going to make a fortune out of +them. One of these days the price of cotton will take a jump, and I'll +be subleasing ten thousand acres of land at ten dollars an acre that +cost me three. + +"Now what I want you for"--he brought his attention down squarely to +Rogeen--"is to buy leases for me--I'll give you a list of what I want +and the prices I'll pay. If you get a lease for less, I'll give you +half the rake-off in addition to your wages." + +Bob thought fast. This looked like a fine opportunity; perhaps he was +worth more as a buyer than as a salesman. + +"I'll have a try at it," he said. "But I won't sign up for any length +of time until I see how it goes." + +"That suits me," Reedy assented readily. His one fear had been that +Bob might want a term contract. + +"I'll see Dayton," Bob arose, "and let you know how soon he can let me +off." + +Dayton liked Bob and hated to lose him, but was one of those employers +who prefer to suffer some inconvenience or loss rather than stand in +the way of a young man's advancement. + +"A hundred and fifty dollars a month is more than I can pay, Rogeen," +he said. "You'd better take it. Begin at once. I'll get Jim Moody in +your place." + +At one o'clock Bob was back at Jenkins' office and reported ready for +work. + +Reedy reached in his desk for the map on which all the ranches below +the line were carefully marked. + +"The ranches I want to get first are along the Dillenbeck Canal. It is +a private water system, and the water costs more; but the land is rich +enough to make up the difference. + +"The first one I want you to tackle is here"--he made a cross with his +pencil--"Belongs to a little dried-up old geezer named Chandler. He is +ready to sell; talk to the girl. Five hundred is my top price for +their lease and equipment." + +As Bob went down the outside stairway he passed a Mexican going up--a +Mexican with features that suggested some one of his immediate +forefathers was probably a Hebrew. Rogeen recognized him--his name was +Madrigal; and he remembered that someone had told him that the Mexican +was in the secret service over the line, or rather that he was an +unofficial bearer of official information from some shady Mexican +officials to some shady American concerns. + +When the Mexican entered the office, Reedy got up and closed the door. +Then he took the map again from a drawer and opened it out on the desk. + +"I'll get Benson's lease this week." Reedy put his pencil on the Red +Butte Ranch. "And these," he pointed to smaller squares along the +Dillenbeck Canal, "are the ones I have marked for early annexation. +How many of them have you seen?" + +"Thes, and thes, and thes." Madrigal pointed off three ranches. + +"I've sent the new man down to see Chandler," said Reedy. "He's the +sort that can win over that girl. I must have that ranch. It is one +of the best of the small ranches." + +"_Si, si._" Madrigal grinned, and smoothed up his black pompadoured +hair. "Eet will be easy. I gave them big scare about the duty on +cotton next fall." + +"And then my friend who manages the Dillenbeck system gave them another +about the price of water this summer," smiled Reedy. "But"--he +frowned--"if the girl should continue obstinate, and they refuse to +sell?" + +"Then I'll attend to the señorita"--the Mexican put his hand on his +heart and bowed gallantly--"the ladies are easy for Señor Madrigal." + +"Yes," said Reedy, shutting his wide mouth determinedly, "and if he +fails, I'll 'tend to Rogeen." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +It was a little after sundown when Bob rode up to the Chandler ranch. +The girl was out under the cottonwood trees by the irrigation canal +gathering up dry sticks for stove wood. He hitched his horse and went +to her. + +"Good evening," he said. + +"Where is your fiddle?" There was a faint twist of amusement at the +corner of her mouth. + +"How did you know?" + +"Guessed it," she replied, with a little lift of the eyebrows; and then +stooped to pick up the armful of dry sticks she had gathered. + +"Let me have them." He stepped forward to take the wood. + +"Why should you?" she said, without offering to relinquish them. "I +prefer to carry my own sticks--then I don't have to build fires for +other people." He laughed, and followed her up the path toward the +shack. + +"Let us sit down here." She led the way to a homemade bench in the +open. "Daddy has had a hard day and has gone to bed, and I don't want +to disturb him. He's very tired and has been upset over this lease +business." + +That was an opening, but before he could take advantage of it she +abruptly changed the conversation: + +"But you haven't told me why you didn't bring your fiddle this time. +I'd love to hear it on a night like this." Dusk was coming swiftly and +the stars had begun to glimmer. + +"Oh, I don't carry it round as a business," he answered. "Fact is, +until the other night I had not played it but twice in eight years." + +"Why?" She turned to him with curious interest. + +"It hasn't usually brought me good luck." + +"What happened the other two times?" + +[Illustration: Jenkins and Lolita awed by Percy's fiddling.] + +He looked off at the very bright star in the west and smiled with +whimsical ruefulness. "I love music--that is, what I call music. When +I was in the Ozarks I fiddled a lot, but discovered it did not bring me +what I wanted, so I went to work. I got a job in a bank at Oakville; +was to begin work Monday. I was powerful proud of that job, and had +got a new suit of clothes and went to town Saturday. That night there +was a dance, and they asked me to play for it." He stopped to chuckle, +but still a little regretfully. "My playing certainly made a hit. +Sunday morning a preacher lambasted the dance, and called me the +special messenger of the devil. My job was with a pillar of his +church. I didn't go to work Monday morning. It's a queer world; that +preacher was the father of Noah Ezekiel Foster, who is now working for +Benson." + +She was looking out at the west, smiling; the desert wind pushed the +hair back from her forehead. "And the other time you played?" + +"That was up at Blindon, Colorado." He showed some reluctance to go +ahead. + +"Yes?" + +"An old doctor and his daughter came to the camp to invest. I +overheard them in the next room at the boarding house, and knew a gang +of sharks was selling them a fake mine. I tried to attract their +attention through the partition by playing a fool popular song--'If you +tell him yes; you are sure to cry, by and by.'" + +"Did you make them understand?" She had locked her hands round her +knees and leaned interestedly toward him. + +"Yes--and also the gang. The camp made up money to pay the undertaker +to bury me next day. I still have the receipt." + +"You have had a lot of experience," she said with a touch of envy. + +"More than the wisdom I have gathered justifies, I fear," he replied. + +"Experiences are interesting," she observed. "I haven't had many, but +I'm beginning. Daddy was professor of Sanskrit in a little one-horse +denominational college back in the hog-feeding belt of the Middle West. +Heavens!" she spoke with sudden fierceness, "can you imagine anything +more useless than teaching Sanskrit? His salary was two hundred +dollars a year less than the janitor's. I hated being poor; and I +hated worse the dry rot of that little faculty circle. The deadly +seriousness of their piffling, pedantic talk about fine-spun scholastic +points that were not interesting nor useful a thousand years ago, and +much less now that they are absolutely dead. I hated being prim and +pretentious. I could not stand it any longer, and made Daddy resign +and go somewhere to plant something. We came out here and I thought I +saw a fortune in cotton. + +"Daddy's worked like a galley slave getting this field in; he's done +the work of two men. With one Chinaman's help part of the time he's +got in a hundred and sixty acres of cotton. We've put through two hot +summers here; and spent every dollar we got for our household goods and +his life insurance. And now"--she was frowning in the dark--"we are +warned to get out." + +"Who warned you?" Bob asked quickly. + +"A Mexican named Madrigal. He has been right friendly to us; and +warned us last week that the Mexican Government is going to raise the +duty on cotton so high this fall that it will take all the profit. He +advises us to sell our lease for anything we can get." + +"Have you had an offer?" + +"Yes," she shrugged in the dusk and spoke with bitter weariness, "a +sort of an offer. Mr. Jenkins offered us $500. Daddy wanted to take +it, but I objected. I guess, though, it is better than nothing." + +Bob stood up, his muscles fairly knotted. He understood in a flash why +the Mexican Jew was going to Jenkins' office. They were stampeding the +small ranchers out of the country, and virtually stealing their leases. +The stars ran together in an angry blur. He felt a swelling of the +throat. It was lucky he was miles away from Reedy Jenkins. + +"Don't take it!" he said with vehemence. + + +Reedy Jenkins had just opened his office next morning and sat down at +the desk to read his mail when Bob Rogeen walked in. Reedy looked up +from a letter and asked greedily: + +"Did you get it?" + +"No." There was something ominous in Rogeen's tone. + +"Couldn't you persuade them to sell?" Jenkins was openly vexed. + +"I persuaded them not to." Bob's hands opened and shut as though they +would like to get hold of something. "I don't care for this job. I'm +done." + +"What's the idea?" There was a little sneer in Jenkins' tone. +"Decided you would go back to the old job selling pots and pans?" + +"No," and Bob's brown eyes, almost black now, looked straight into +Reedy's flushed, insolent face, "I'm going across the line to _raise +cotton_." + +Reedy's wide mouth opened in a contemptuous sneer. + +"It's rather hot over there for rabbits." + +"Yes," Bob's lips closed warningly, "and it may become oppressive for +wolves." + +Their eyes met defiantly for a moment, and each knew the other +understood--and it meant a fight. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +Bob had never known a resolution before. He thought he had, but he +knew now that all the rest compared to what he felt as he left Reedy +Jenkins' office were as dead cornstalks to iron rods. + +One night nearly nine years ago, when returning through the hills with +his fiddle under his arm, he had stopped at the door of his cabin and +looked up at the stars. The boisterous fun of an hour ago had all +faded out, leaving him dissatisfied and lonesome. He was shabbily +dressed, not a dollar in his pocket--not a thing in the world his own +but that fiddle--and he knew he was no genius with that. He was not +getting on in the world; he was not making anything of himself. It was +then that the first big resolution came to him: He would quit this +fooling and go to work; he would win in this game of life. Since then +in the main he had stuck to that resolution. He had not knowingly +passed any opportunity by; certainly he had dodged nothing because it +was hard. He had won a little here, and lost there, always hoping, +always tackling the new job with new pluck. Yet these efforts had been +simple; somebody had offered him a job and he tried to make good at +it--and usually had. But to win now, and win big as he was determined +to do, he must have a job of his own; and he would have to create that +job, organize it, equip it. + +"What I'll make it with--or just how--I don't know. But by all the +gods of the desert I'm going to win right here--in spite of the +thermometer, the devil, and Reedy Jenkins." + +To raise cotton one must have a lease, tools, teams, provisions--all of +which costs money; and he had just $167.35. But if that girl and her +Sanskrit father could get in a cotton crop, he could. It was not too +late. Cotton might be planted in the Imperial Valley even up to the +last of May. He would get a field already prepared if he could; if +not, then he would prepare it. + +And a man with a good lease and a good reputation could usually borrow +some money on which to raise a crop. Bob's mind again came back to the +Red Butte Ranch. It was so big that it almost swamped his imagination, +but if he was going to do big things he must think big. If he could +possibly sublease that ranch from Benson. But it would take $100,000 +to finance a five-thousand-acre cotton crop. Then he thought of Jim +Crill, the old man of the Texas oil fields who was looking for +investments. + +It was daring enough to seem almost fantastic, but Bob quickened his +step and turned toward the depot. He could yet catch the morning train +for Los Angeles. + +But he passed Benson on the way. The same morning Bob called at the +Los Angeles office Benson went to Reedy Jenkins in Calexico. + +The Red Butte lease had three years to run. Benson began by offering +the lease and all the equipment for $40,000. He had spent more than +$90,000 on it. + +Reedy pushed back the long black lock of hair from his forehead, shook +his head lugubriously, and grew pessimistically oratorical. Things +were very unsettled over the line: there was talk of increased Mexican +duty on cotton, of a raise in water rates; the price of cotton was +down; ranchers were coming out instead of going in; no sale at all for +leases. He himself had not had an offer for a lease in two months. + +They dickered for an hour. Reedy watching with a gloating shrewdness +the impractical fellow who had tried to farm with money. He knew +Benson had lost money on the last crop, and besides had been thoroughly +scared by the sly Madrigal. + +"I'm tired of the whole thing." Benson spoke with annoyed vexation. +"I tell you what I'll do: I'll walk off the ranch and leave you the +whole damn thing for $20,000." + +"I'll take it." Reedy knew when the limit was reached. "I'll pay you +$2,000 now to bind the bargain; and the balance within ten days." + +As Benson left the office with the check, Reedy began figuring +feverishly. It was the biggest thing he had ever pulled off. The +lease, even with cotton selling for only eight cents, was worth +certainly $50,000, the equipment at least $10,000 more. And the five +thousand acres was already planted and coming up! In the Imperial +Valley the planting is by far the most expensive part of the cotton +crop up to picking. It costs from seven to ten dollars an acre to get +it planted; after that it is easy. There are so few weeds and so +little grass that one man, with a little extra help once or twice +during the summer, can tend from forty to eighty acres. + +It was such an astounding bargain that Reedy's pink face grew a little +pale, and he moistened his lips as he figured. He was trying to +reassure himself that it would be dead easy to borrow the other +$18,000. He did not have it. In truth, he had only two hundred left +in the bank. He thought of Tom Barton and two of the banks from whom +he had already borrowed. They did not seem promising. Then he thought +of Jim Crill, and the pinkness came slowly back to his face. He smiled +doggishly as he picked up the phone, called El Centro, and asked for +Mrs. Evelyn Barnett. + +Mrs. Evelyn Barnett sat on the porch shaded by a wistaria vine, her +feet discreetly side by side on the floor, her hands primly folded in +her lap; her head righteously erect, as one who could wear her widow's +weeds without reproach, having been faithful to the very last ruffle of +her handsome dress to the memory of her deceased. + +She had insisted on taking Uncle Crill from the hotel, which was +ruining his digestion, and making a home for him. She had leased an +apartment bungalow, opening on a court, and with the aid of three +servants had, at great personal sacrifice, managed to give Uncle Crill +a "real home." True, Uncle was not in it very much, but it was there +for him to come back to. + +"Uncle," she had said, piously, showing him the homelike wonders that +three servants had been able to achieve in the six rooms, "in the +crudities of this horrid, uncouth country, we must keep up the +refinements to which we were accustomed in the East." The old +gentleman had grunted, remembering what sort of refinements they had +been accustomed to, but made no outward protests at being thus frillily +domesticated after ten years in the Texas oil fields. + +And as Mrs. Barnett sat on the porch this morning, fully and carefully +dressed, awaiting the result of that telephone message from Calexico, +she watched with rank disapproval her neighbours to the right and left. +It was quite hot already and Mrs. Borden on the right had come out on +the porch, dressed with amazing looseness of wrapper, showing a very +liberal opening at the throat, and stood fanning herself with a +newspaper. Mrs. Cramer on the left, having finished her sweeping, had +come out on the porch also, and in garments that indicated no padding +whatever dropped into a rocking chair, crossed her legs, made a dab at +her loosely piled hair to see it did not topple down, and proceeded to +read the morning newspaper. It was positively shocking, thought Mrs. +Barnett, how women could so far forget themselves. She never did. + +Directly her primly erect head turned slightly, and her eyes which +always seemed looking for something substantial--no dream stuff for +her--widened with satisfaction and she put her hand up to her collar to +see if the breastpin was in place. + +It was Reedy Jenkins who got out of the machine which stopped at the +entrance. He took off his hat when halfway to the porch--his black +hair was smoothly brushed--his face opened with a flattering smile and +he quickened his step. Mrs. Barnett permitted herself to rise, take +two short steps forward, and to smile reservedly as she offered her +hand. + +Reedy Jenkins had not exaggerated when he said he had a way with the +ladies. He did have. It was rather a broad way, but there are plenty +of ladies who are not subtle. + +"You have a lovely little place here." Reedy gave a short, approving +glance round as he took the offered chair. "It's wonderful what a +woman's touch can do to make a home. No place like home, if there is +some dear woman there to preside." + +Mrs. Barnett's mouth simpered at the implied flattery; but her eyes, +always looking calculatingly for substantial results, were studying +Reedy Jenkins. He certainly had handsome black hair, and he was well +dressed--and the manner of a gentleman. He reminded her of an +evangelist she had known back in Indiana. She had intended to marry +that evangelist if his wife died in time; but she did not. + +"It is very hard to do much here," Mrs. Barnett said, deprecatingly. +"There is so much dust, and the market is so poor, and servants are so +untrained and so annoying. But of course I do what little I can to +make dear Uncle a good home. It was a great sacrifice for me to come, +but when duty calls one must not think of self." + +"No, I suppose not." Reedy sighed and shook his head until the long +black lock dangled across the corner of his forehead--he did look like +that evangelist. "But I wish sometime that we could forget the other +fellow and think of ourselves. I'd have been a millionaire by now if I +hadn't been so chicken-hearted about giving the other fellow the best +of it." + +"We never lose by being generous," said Mrs. Barnett with conviction. + +"No, I suppose not," Reedy sighed. "No doubt it pays in the long run. +I know I've been put in the way of making many thousands of dollars +first and last by fellows I had been good to." Then Reedy looked at +Mrs. Barnett steadily and with wide admiration in his large +eyes--looked until she blushed very deeply. + +"It may be a rough place to live," said Reedy, "but it certainly has +been good for your colour. You are pink as a--a flower; you look +positively swee----" He broke off abruptly. "I beg your pardon; I +almost forgot myself." + +Then Reedy changed the subject to the matter of business on which he +had come. + +"Yes," Mrs. Barnett said, giving him her hand as he rose to go, "I'll +see Uncle to-night; and I'm sure Mr. Jenkins"--he still held her hand +and increased the pressure--"he'll be most glad to do it." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +Three days after Bob had returned from Los Angeles and found that Reedy +Jenkins had bought the Benson lease, he rode up from the Mexican side +and jumped off in front of the hardware store. Dayton was talking to +the old man with bushy eyebrows and a linen duster. + +"Here's Rogeen now," said the implement dealer. "Mr. Crill was just +inquiring about you, Bob." + +The two men shook hands. + +"How you comin'?" asked the old man, his blue eyes looking sharply into +Rogeen's. + +"I'm starting in on my own," replied Bob; "going to raise cotton over +the line." + +"Why?" The heavy brows worked frowningly. + +"Got to win through." Bob's brows also contracted and he shook his +head resolutely. "And I can't do it working by the month. Some men +can, but I can't." + +"See that?" The old gentleman pointed to a tractor with ten plows +attached. "That's success. Those plows are good and the engine is +good; but it's only when they are hooked up together they are worth +twenty teams and ten men. That's the way to multiply results--hook +good things together. Resolution and hard work aren't enough. Got to +have brains. Got to use 'em. Organize your forces. + +"Don't tell me," the old chap spoke with some heat, "that a man who +uses his brains and by one day's work makes something that saves a +million men ten days' work is only entitled to one day's pay. Not a +bit of it. He's entitled to part of what he saves every one of those +million men. That's the difference between a little success and a big +success. The little one makes something for himself; the big one makes +something for a thousand men--and takes part of it. Has a right to. +Those Chinamen across the line get sixty-five cents a day. If you can +manage them so they earn a dollar and a half a day and give them a +dollar and thirty cents of it and keep twenty cents, you are a public +benefactor as well as a smart man. That is the way to do it; use your +brains to increase other men's production and take a fair per cent. of +it, and you'll be both rich and honest." + +Bob's brown eyes were eagerly attentive. He liked this cryptic old +man. This was real stuff he was talking; and it was getting at the +bottom of Rogeen's own problem. All these years he had tried to +produce value single-handed. But to win big, he must think, plan, +organize so as to make money for many people, and therefore entitle +himself to large returns. + +"I'm going to try that very thing," he said. "I've just leased one +hundred and sixty acres. Half already planted in cotton, and I'm going +to plant the rest." + +Bob was proud of his achievement. He had been really glad he failed to +get the Red Butte Ranch. It was entirely too big to tackle without +capital or experience. But he had found a rancher anxious to turn +loose his lease for about half what he had spent improving it. Rogeen +then convinced a cotton-gin man that he was a good risk; and offered to +give him ten per cent. interest, half the cotton seed, and to gin the +crop at his mill if he would advance money sufficient to buy the lease +and raise the crop. The gin man had agreed to do it. + +Crill jerked his head approvingly. "Good move. That's the way to go +at it. Think first, then work like the devil at the close of a +revival." + +Crill paused, and then asked abruptly: + +"Know a man named Jenkins?" + +"Yes," replied Bob. + +"Is he safe?" + +Bob grinned. "About as safe as a rattlesnake in dog days." + +As Jim Crill stalked up the outside stairway of Reedy Jenkins' office, +the wind whipping the tail of the linen duster about his legs, he +carried with him two very conflicting opinions of Reedy--Mrs. Barnett's +and Bob Rogeen's. Maybe one of them was prejudiced--possibly both. +Well, he would see for himself. + +Reedy jumped up, gave his head a cordial fling, and grabbed Jim Crill's +hand as warmly as though he were chairman of the committee welcoming +the candidate for vice-president to a tank-station stop. Reedy +remembered very distinctly meeting Mr. Crill in Chicago five years ago. +In fact, Mr. Crill had for a long time been Mr. Jenkins' ideal of the +real American business man--shrewd, quick to think, and fearless in +action; willing to take a chance but seldom going wrong. + +"Evy said you wanted to see me about borrowing some money," the old man +dryly interrupted the flow of eloquence. + +"Yes--why, yes." Reedy brought up suddenly before he had naturally +reached his climax, floundered for a moment. "Why, yes, we have an +investment that I thought would certainly interest you." Reedy had +decided not only to get the old man to finance the Red Butte purchase +but his whole project. + +He began to explain his maps and figures as volubly as though he were +selling the Encyclopedia Britannica, and again the old man cut in: + +"How many acres you got leased?" + +"Ten thousand--practically." Reedy paused to answer, his pencil +touching the Dillenbeck Canal. + +"What did you pay for them?" + +"I got most of them for about a third to half what they cost the +ranchers." + +"Why did they sell so cheap?" + +"Oh," Reedy waved, vaguely evasive, "you know how that is; fellows are +like sheep--stampede into a country, and then one makes a break, and +they stampede out. Now that Benson has sold, a lot more of them will +get cold feet." + +"Altogether how much money have you put in over there?" + +"Forty-two thousand dollars," replied Reedy, consulting a memorandum. +"You understand," he continued to explain, "I'm not a cotton grower at +all; I am an investor. I'm dealing in leases; and I merely took over +the planted crop on the Benson leases because I got it so cheap there +is bound to be money in it." + +"What is it you want?" demanded Crill. + +"Seventy thousand or so for the lease and the crop. I have 8,000 acres +already planted, some of it coming up. I'll pay you 10 per cent. for +the money, and half the cotton seed, and give you first mortgage on the +crop. Those are the usual terms here." + +The sharp blue eyes under the shaggy brows had been investigating Reedy +as they talked. He wanted to make loans, for he had a lot of idle +money. "There are two sorts of men who pay their debts," the old man +said to himself. "One who wants to owe more, and one who doesn't want +to owe anything." Jenkins would want to borrow more, therefore he +would pay his first loan. Even rascals are usually good pay when they +are making money. And it looked like this fellow would make money on +these leases. Anyway, Jim Crill moved a little annoyedly in his chair +at the thought of his niece. It would be almost worth the risk to be +rid of Evy's nagging him about it. + +"Fix up the papers," he said, shortly, to Reedy's delight. He had +expected to have to work much harder on the old man. + +The next morning after the interview with Jim Crill Bob was at the +hardware store assembling the implements he had bought, when a tall, +shambling hill billy sauntered up. + +"Hello, Noah Ezekiel Foster," said Bob, without looking up. + +"Hello," responded the hill billy. "Reckon you know a hoss at long +range." + +"Reckon I do." Bob resumed his whistling. + +"Don't also know somebody that wants a chauffeur for a tractor? Benson +sold out my job." + +"No." Bob straightened up and looked at the lank fellow appraisingly. +"But I know a fellow who wants a chauffeur for a team of mules." + +Noah Ezekiel shook his head. "Me and mules have parted ways a long +time ago. I prefer gasoline." Then in a moment: "Who is the fellow?" + +Bob grinned and tapped himself. "I'm the man." + +Noah Ezekiel shook his head again. + +"You look too all-fired industrious; I'd rather work for a fellow that +lives at Los Angeles." + +Bob laughed. "Just as you like." + +But Noah Ezekiel ventured one more question: + +"You workin' for Reedy Jenkins?" + +"Not much!" Bob put emphasis in that. + +"Where is your ranch?" + +"On the road a couple of miles north of Chandler's." + +The hill billy's forehead wrinkled and his eyes looked off into empty +space. + +"I reckon I'll change my mind. I'll take the job. How much am I +gettin' a month?" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +Some men fail because they invest their money in bad business. More +fail because they invest themselves in sorry human material. They +trust their plans to people who cannot or will not carry them out. + +Bob from his first day as an employer realized that to be able to plan +and work himself was only half of success. One must be able to pick +men who will carry out his plans, must invest his brains, his +generosity, his fair treatment, and his affections in human beings who +will return him loyalty for loyalty. + +He had made no mistake in Noah Ezekiel Foster. Noah was a good cotton +planter; moreover, he knew a good deal about Chinese. Bob had employed +six Chinamen to help get the ground in shape and the cotton planted. + +"Noah," Bob stopped beside the disk plow and its double team, "you +understand mules." + +"I ought to." Noah rubbed his lean jaw. "I've been kicked by 'em +enough." + +Bob smiled. Somehow Noah's look of drollery always put him in a good +humour. He noticed it also tickled the Chinamen, who thought "Misty +Zeekee" one of the greatest of Anglo-Saxons. + +"You see," remarked Noah, picking up the lines again, "as my dad used +to say, 'He that taketh hold of the handles of a plow and looketh back, +verily, he shall be kicked by a mule.' I never calculate to be kicked +in the back. But if that Chinaman over there"--he frowned at a +Chinaboy who was fumbling over a cotton planter--"don't get a move on +him, he'll be kicked wherever he happens to hit my foot first. Hi, +there"--Noah threw up his head and yelled to the Chinaboy--"get a move +on. Plantee cotton. Goee like hellee." And the Chinaman did. + +Bob laughed. + +"Do you reckon you could let me have five dollars to-night?" Noah +Ezekiel asked, looking down at his plow. "I want to go up to the Red +Owl at Mexicali." + +"Not going to gamble, are you?" Bob asked. + +Noah Ezekiel shook his head. "No, I ain't goin' to gamble. Goin' to +invest the five in my education. I want to learn how many ways there +are for a fool and his money to part." + +After supper, when Noah Ezekiel had ridden away to invest his five +dollars in the educational processes of the Red Owl, Bob brought a +stool out of the house and sat down to rest his tired muscles and watch +the coming night a little while before he turned in. Bob and his +foreman occupied the same shack--the term "house," as Noah Ezekiel +said, being merely a flower of speech. Although there were several +hundred thousand acres of very rich land under cultivation on the +Mexican side, with two or three exceptions there was not a house on any +of the ranches that two men could not have built in one day and still +observe union hours. Four willow poles driven in the ground, a few +crosspieces, a thatch of arrowweed, three strips of plank nailed round +the bottom, some mosquito netting, and it was done. A Chinaman would +take another day off and build a smoking adobe oven; but Bob and Noah +had a second-hand oil stove on which a Chinese boy did their cooking. + +Bob sat and looked out over the level field in the dusk. A quarter of +a mile away the light glimmered in the hut of his Chinese help, and +there came the good-natured jabber of their supper activities. He felt +the expansive thrill of the planter, the employer--the man who +organizes an enterprise and makes it go. + +The heat of the day was already gone, and pleasant coolness was on the +night wind that brought the smell of desert sage from beyond the +watered fields. Bob stirred from the chair and got up. His tiredness +was gone. The desert night had him. He went into the shack and took +from an old scarred trunk his fiddle, and started down the road that +passed his ranch to the south. He had not yet called on the Chandlers. + + +The little house was dark. Rogeen wondered if the Chandlers were +asleep. But his heart took a quicker turn; he fancied he saw something +white in the yard--the girl was also feeling the spell of the desert +night. + +Then suddenly, but softly, a guitar thrummed, and a voice with the +half-wailing cadence of the Spanish took up the melody. + +Bob stood still, the blood crowding his veins until his face was hot +and his whole body prickled. This was Madrigal, the Mexican Jew. + +The song ended. Faintly came the clapping of hands, and the ripple of +a girl's laughter. Bob turned angrily and walked swiftly back up the +road, walked clear past his own ranch without noticing, and finally +turned aside by a clump of cottonwood trees along the levee of the main +irrigation canal. The water, a little river here, ran swiftly, +muddily, black under the desert stars. Bob lifted his fiddle and flung +it into the middle of the stream. + +The heat of his anger was gone. He felt instantly cold, and infinitely +lonesome. There upon the muddy water floated away the thousand songs +of the hills--the melody, the ecstasy, the colour and light of his +early youth. + +With sudden repentance he turned and dashed down the bank after the +hurrying current. The fall is rapid here, and the fiddle was already +far down the stream. He ran stumblingly, desperately, along the uneven +bank, dodging willows and arrowweed, stopping now and again to peer up +and down the stream. + +It was nowhere in sight. A sort of frenzy seized him. He had a queer +fancy that in that moment of anger he had thrown away his soul--all of +him that was not bread and dollars. He must get it back--he must! +Another dash, and again he stopped on the bank. Something darker than +the current bobbed upon the muddy water. Without a moment's hesitancy +he plunged into the stream and waded waist deep into the middle of the +current. + +Yes, it was his violin. Back on the bank, dripping wet, he hugged it +to him like a little girl with a doll that was lost and is found. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +The next morning at breakfast Noah Ezekiel remarked: + +"I wonder where that skunk got the money." + +"What skunk and what money?" Bob was pouring sirup on a pancake, a +product of much patience both on his part and the Chinese cook's. + +"Jenkins." Noah answered both questions in one word. "Not long ago he +had to borrow a dime for a doughnut. Last night he was at the Red Owl +gambling with both fists. And I heard he's bought altogether ten +thousand acres in leases. 'Verily,' as dad used to say, 'the sinner +flourisheth like a thorn tree.'" + +"Do you know if he has bought Chandler's?" Bob asked, casually, not +meeting Noah's eye. + +"No, but I reckon he will. He seems out for a clean-up." + +"If you see the Chandlers," suggested Rogeen, "advise them not to sell." + +Noah Ezekiel reached for the towel to wipe his mouth, and shook his +head. + +"I ain't strong on giving advice. I believe in doin' as you'd be done +by, and most all the advice I ever got was as hard to take as castor +oil. Advice is like givin' a dog ipecac--it may break him of suckin' +eggs, but it sure is hard on the dog." + +Bob laughed and got up and started to work. + +The first Saturday in June Rogeen and Noah quit at noon, for the rush +was over. + +"I reckon," Noah insinuated, suavely, "if you are feelin' right good I +might strike you for another five to-night." + +"Certainly," said Bob. "But look here, Noah, you ought not to gamble +away your wages." + +Noah Ezekiel pulled a long face. + +"You sound like my dad. And I ain't fully persuaded you are enough of +a saint to preach." + +"You are incorrigible, Zeke," Bob laughed. "And I think I'll go with +you to-night to the Red Owl." + +Noah shook his head. "I wouldn't advise it. Gamblin' ain't to be +recommended to employers. It's liable to put wages in japordy." + +"I am not going to gamble," said Bob. "I am looking for a man--a +couple of them, in fact." + + +Reedy Jenkins had returned to his office about two o'clock after making +a complete circuit of his leases. The crop looked fine--so everybody +told him. He knew little about cotton, but Ah Sing was a wonderful +farmer--he knew how to handle the Chinese labourer. + +Then he looked at his watch and frowned. He wished that blankety-blank +Mexican would be more prompt in keeping his appointments. He wanted to +get away. He was to drive to El Centro for a visit with Mrs. Barnett +and then to-night he would return for a little recreation across the +line. + +It was nearly four when Madrigal finally appeared, wearing an expensive +white summer suit and a jaunty straw hat. "He is a handsome devil," +thought Reedy, eying him with disfavour because of his lateness. The +Mexican took off his straw hat attached to a buttonhole by a silk cord, +and pushed up his black pompadoured hair. + +"Have you got the Chandler ranch yet?" Jenkins came directly to the +point. + +"Not yet, señor." Madrigal's bold, dark eyes smiled with supreme +confidence. "Not yet--but soon." + +The Mexican stood up and returned his hat to his head. He put up his +hands as though strumming a guitar, turned up his eyes languishingly, +and hummed a flirting air. + +"If this, señor," he said, breaking off, "does not win the señorita, we +will try--what you call hem--direct action. You shall have your ranch, +never fear." + +"And that damned Rogeen--what of him?" + +The Mexican smiled sinisterly. "He get news tonight that make heem +lose much sleep. + +"Now may I trouble Señor Jenkins for fifty dollar?" + +Reedy grumbled, but paid. The Mexican lifted his hand, pressed it to +his heart, and bowed with mocking gallantry. + +"Until to-night, señor." + +[Illustration: Lolita tries her wiles on Percy.] + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +Reedy Jenkins and Mrs. Barnett sat in a cool, shadowed corner of the +porch. Reedy took a plump yellow cigar from his vest pocket, and with +a deferential bow: + +"Will you permit me?" + +"Certainly, Mr. Jenkins." Mrs. Barnett spoke in a liberal-minded tone. +"I do not object at all to the fragrance of a good cigar--especially +out of doors." + +"It is a vile habit," said Jenkins, deprecatingly, as he began to puff. +"But after a fellow has worked hard on some big deal, and is all strung +up, it seems to offer a sort of relaxation. Of course, I think a man +ought to smoke in reason. We are coarse brutes at the best--and need +all the refining influences we can get." + +"I think it is bad for the throat," said Evelyn Barnett. "That is what +I tell Uncle Crill. He smokes entirely too much." + +Uncle Crill was absent. He usually was. The old chap was willing for +Evy to save his digestion within reason--but not his soul. + +"My dear friend," Reedy made a rather impetuous gesture with his right +hand toward the demure widow, "it was splendid of you to persuade your +uncle to lend me that money for the big deal. It was the sort of thing +that one never forgets. We have plenty of friends willing to help us +spend our money, but only a few, a very few loyal ones, willing to help +us make it. + +"Depend upon it, my dear young lady, I'll not forget that +favour--never. And as I promised before I shall give you personally +one fourth of the profits." + +Mrs. Barnett gave her head a little depreciating twist and smoothed the +dress over her right knee. + +"That will be very generous of you, Mr. Jenkins. But of course one +does not do things for one's friends for money. Not but I can use +it--to do good with," she hastened. + +"My poor husband would have left me a comfortable fortune in my own +right if it had not been for the meddlesomeness of some one who had no +business to interfere. + +"Mr. Barnett was a mine owner--and a most excellent business man. He +had large interests in Colorado. One mine he was going to sell. An +old gentleman and his daughter were just ready to buy it. The papers +were all drawn, and they were to pay over their money that evening. +But some horrid young man, a wandering fiddler or something, got to +meddling and persuaded them not to trade. + +"It was an awful loss to poor Tom. He was to have had $60,000 out of +the sale--and he never got one cent out of that mine, not a cent." + +"What did they do to that fellow that broke up the trade?" asked Reedy, +puffing interestedly at his cigar. + +"Oh, Mr. Barnett said they taught him a lesson that would keep him from +spoiling any more trades." Mrs. Barnett laughed. And then accusingly: +"Isn't it queer how mean some people are. Now just that little +interference from that meddlesome stranger kept me from having a small +fortune." A deep sigh. "And one can do so much good with money. Just +think if I had that money how many poor people around here I could +help. I hear there are families living across the line in little +shacks--one or two rooms with dirt floors--and no bathroom. Isn't it +awful? And women, too!" + +Reedy twisted his chair about so he looked squarely at the widow. The +sun had gone down, and the quick twilight was graying the row of palm +trees that broke the skyline to the south. Jenkins was in a hurry to +get away, but his visit was not quite rounded out. + +"You must be very lonely," he said with a deep, sad voice--"since your +husband died. Loneliness--ah loneliness! is the great ache of the +human heart." + +"Y-e-s. Oh, yes," Mrs. Barnett did not sound utterly desolate. "But +of course, Mr. Barnett being away so much----" There was a significant +pause. "He was an excellent man--a good business man, but you know. +Well, some people are more congenial than others. We never had a cross +word in our lives. But--well--our tastes were different, you know." + +Reedy smoked and nodded in appreciative silence. The dusk came fast. +Mrs. Barnett rustled her starched skirts and sighed. + +"You know, Mr. Jenkins," she began on a totally different subject, "it +has been such a pleasure to me to meet someone out here in this +God-forsaken country with fine feelings--one who loves the higher +things of life." + +"Thank you, Mrs. Barnett." Reedy bowed in all seriousness. + +A moment later when he took his leave he held her hand a thought longer +than necessary, and pressed it as though in a sympathetic impulse for +her loneliness--or his--or maybe just because. + +It was dark as Reedy threw the clutch into high and put his foot on the +accelerator. He was out of town too quick to be in danger of arrest +for speeding. He was late. The three others who were to seek +recreation for the evening with him would be waiting. + +And biting the end of his cigar he said fervently: + +"Thank God for Jim Crill--and his niece." + +Reedy's three friends were waiting--but dinner was ready. They had +ordered a special dinner at the Pepper Tree Hotel, served out in a +little pergola in the back yard. + +They were all hearty eaters, but not epicures; and anyway they did not +take time to taste much. From where they sat they could look out +between the latticed sides of the pergola across the Mexican line, and +see above and beyond the squat darker buildings a high arch of winking +electric lights. + +That was the Red Owl. + +And while they talked jerkily and broadly of cotton and real +estate--and women, their thoughts were over there with those winking +lights. + +Just across the line there was the old West again--the West of the +early Cripple Creek days, of Carson City and Globe. Still wide open, +still raw, still unashamed. + +Over there underneath these lights, in that great barnlike structure, +were scores of tables across which fortunes flowed every night. There +men met in the primitive hunt for money--quick money, and won--and +lost, and lost, and lost. + +There, too, the tinkle of a piano out of tune, the blare of a +five-piece orchestra, and the raucous singing of girls who had lost +their voices as significantly as other things. And beyond that, along +shadowy corridors, were other girls standing or sitting in +doorways--lightly dressed. + +"Well, are you fellows through?" Reedy had pushed back his chair. +"Let's go." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +It was perhaps an hour later that Bob Rogeen went down the main street +of the Mexican town, also headed for the Owl. Off this main street +only a few lights served to reveal rather than dissipate the night. +But under the dimness Mexicali was alive--a moving, seething, +passionate sort of aliveness. The sidewalks were full, the saloons +were busy. In and out of the meat shops or the small groceries +occasionally a woman came and went. But the crowd was nearly all +men--Mexicans, Chinamen, American ranchers and tourists, Germans, +Negroes from Jamaica, Filipinos, Hindus with turbans. All were +gathered in this valley of intense heat--this ancient bed of the sea +now lower than the sea--not because of gold mines or oil gushers, but +for the wealth that grew from the soil: the fortunes in lettuce, in +melons, in alfalfa, and in cotton. + +"Odd," thought Bob, "that the slowest and most conservative of all +industries should find a spot of the earth so rich that it started a +stampede almost like the rush to the Klondike, of men who sought sudden +riches in tilling the soil." + +Across the way from a corner saloon came the twang of a mandolin; and +half a dozen Mexican labourers began singing a Spanish folk song. In a +shop at his right a Jap girl sold soda water; in another open door an +old Chinaman mended shoes; and from another came the click of billiard +balls. But most of the crowd was moving toward the Owl. + +As Bob stepped inside the wide doors of the gambling hall the scene +amazed him. There were forty tables running--roulette, blackjack, +craps, stud poker--and round them men crowded three to five deep. Down +the full length of one side of the room ran a bar nearly a hundred and +fifty feet long, and in the rear end of the great barnlike structure +thirty or forty girls, most of them American, sang and danced and +smoked and drank with whosoever would buy. + +Bob stood to one side of the surging crowd that milled round the gaming +tables, and watched. There was no soft-fingered, velvet-footed glamour +about this place. No thick carpets, rich hangings, or exotic perfumes. +Most of the men were direct from the fields with the soil of the day's +work upon their rough overalls--and often on their faces and grimy +hands. The men who ran the games were in their shirt sleeves, alert, +sweatingly busy; some of them grim, a few predatory, but more of them +easily good-natured. The whole thing was swift, direct, businesslike. +Men were trying to win money from the house; and the house was winning +money from them. This was raw gambling, raw drinking, raw vice. It +was the old Bret Harte days multiplied by ten. + +And yet there was a fascination about it. Bob felt it. It is idiotic +to deny that gambling, which is the lure of quick money reduced to +minutes and seconds, has not a fascination for nearly all men. As Bob +stood leaning with his back against the bar--there was no other place +to lean, not one place in that big hall to sit down--the scene filled +him with the tragedy of futile trust in luck. + +All these men knew that a day's work, a bale of cotton, a crate of +melons, a cultivator--positive, useful things--brought money, positive, +useful returns. And yet they staked that certainty on a vague belief +in luck--and always, and always lost the certainty in grabbing for the +shadow. + +Most of these men were day labourers, clerks, small-salaried men. It +cost a thousand dollars a day to run this house, and it made another +thousand dollars in profits. Two thousand dollars--a thousand days' +hard work squandered every night by the poor devils who hoped to get +something easy. And some of them squandered not merely one day's work +but a month's or six months' hard, sweaty toil flipped away with one +throw of the dice or one spin of the ball. + +While Bob's eyes watched the ever-shifting crowd that moved from table +to table he saw Rodriguez, the man for whom he was searching. He was +with Reedy Jenkins and three others coming from that end of the +building devoted to alleged musical comedy. Besides the natty +Madrigal, the sad-looking Rodriguez and Reedy, there were a Mexican and +an American Bob did not know. All of them except Rodriguez wore +expensive silk shirts and panama hats, and had had several drinks and +were headed for more. Reedy, pink and expansive, chuckling and +oratorical, was evidently the host. He was almost full enough and +hilarious enough to do something ridiculous if the occasion offered. + +After two more rounds of drinks the party started for the gaming +tables. The crowd was too thick for them to push their way in as a +body, so they scattered. Reedy bought ten dollars' worth of chips at a +roulette table, played them in stacks of twenty, and lost in three +minutes. As he turned away he caught sight of Bob Rogeen and came +across to him. + +"Hello, Cotton-eyed Joe," he said with drunken jocularity, "let's have +a drink." + +"Thanks," replied Bob, "my wildest dissipation is iced rain water." + +Bob just then caught sight of Noah Ezekiel and moved away from Reedy +Jenkins. He felt it safer--especially for Reedy, to stay out of reach +of him. + +Noah Ezekiel's lank form was leaning against a roulette table, a stack +of yellow chips in front of him. + +"Hello," said the hill billy as Bob edged his way up to his side. + +"How is it going?" asked Bob. + +"Fine," answered Noah, carefully laying five chips in the shape of a +star. "I got a system and I'm going to clean 'em up." + +Bob smiled and watched. The wheel spun around. The ball slowed and +dropped on 24. Noah's magical star spread around 7. The dealer +reached over and wiped in his five chips. + +"You see," Noah explained, taking it for granted Bob knew nothing of +the games, "this is ruelay. You play your money on one number and then +rue it." The hill billy chuckled at his pun. "There are 36 numbers on +the table," he pointed a long forefinger, "and there are 36 numbers on +the wheel. You put your money or chip--the chips are five cents +apiece--on one number, and if the ball stops at that number on the +wheel, you win 35 times what you played." + +"But if it doesn't stop on your number?" said Bob. + +"Then you are out of luck." Noah Ezekiel had again begun to place his +chips. + +"Of course," he explained, "you play this thing dozens of ways; one to +two on the red or black, or you can play one to three on the first, +second or third twelve. Or you can play on the line between two +numbers, and if either number wins you get 17 chips." + +Noah won this time. The number in the centre of his star came up and +he got 67 chips. + +"Better quit now, hadn't you?" suggested Bob. + +"Nope--just beginning to rake 'em in," replied Noah. + +"Wish you would," said Bob, "and show me the rest of the games." + +Noah reluctantly cashed in. He had begun with a dollar and got back +$4.60. + +"You see," said Noah, clinking the silver in his hands as they moved +away, "this is lots easier than work. The only reason I work for you +is out of the kindness of my heart. I made that $4.60 in twenty +minutes." + +"Here is craps." They had stopped at a table that looked like a gutted +piano, with sides a foot above the bottom. + +"You take the dice"--Noah happened to be in line and got them as the +last man lost--"and put down say a half dollar." He laid one on the +line. "You throw the two dice. If seven comes up---- Ah, there!" he +chuckled. "I done it." The face of the dice showed [3 and 4]. "You +see I win." The dealer had thrown down a half dollar on top of Noah's. +"Now, come, seven." Noah flung them again. + +Sure enough seven came up again. A dollar was pitched out to him. He +left the two dollars lying. This time he threw eleven and won again. +Four dollars! Noah was in great glee. + +"Let's go," urged Bob. + +"One more throw," Noah brought up a 6 this time. + +"Now," he explained, "I've got to throw until another 6 comes. If I +get a seven before I do a six, they win." His next throw was a seven, +and the dealer raked in the four dollars. + +"Oh, well," sighed Noah, "only fifty cents of that was mine, anyway. +And the poor gamblers have to live. + +"This," he explained, stopping at a table waist high around which a +circle of men stood with money and cards in front of them, "is Black +Jack. + +"You put down the amount of money you want to bet. The banker deals +everybody two cards, including himself. But both your cards are face +down, while his second card is face up. + +"The game is to see who can get closest to 21. You look at your cards. +All face cards count for ten; ace counts for either 1 or 11 as you +prefer. + +"If your cards don't add enough, you can get as many more as you ask +for. But if you ask for a card and it makes you run over 21, you lose +and push your money over. Say you get a king and a 9--that is 19, and +you stand on that, and push your cards under your money. + +"When all the rest have all the cards they want, the dealer turns his +over. Say he has a 10 and a 8. He draws. If he gets a card that puts +him over 21, he goes broke and pays everybody. But if he gets say +18--then he pays all those who are nearer 21 than he; but all who have +less than 18 lose." + +While Noah had been explaining, he had been playing, and lost a dollar +on each of two hands. + +They moved on to a chuck-a-luck game. + +"This, you see," said Noah, "is a sort of bird cage with three +overgrown dice. You put your money on any one of these six numbers. +He whirls the cage and shakes up the fat dice. They fall--and if one +of the three numbers which come up is yours, you win. +Otherwise--ouch!" Noah had played a dollar on the 5; and a 1, 2 and a +6 came up. + +As they moved away Noah was shaking his head disconsolately. + +"Money is like a shadow that soon flees away--and you have to hoe +cotton in the morning." + +"Don't you know," said Bob, earnestly, "that everyone of these games +give the house from 6 to 30 per cent., and that you are sure to lose in +the end?" + +"Yeah," said Noah, wearily. "You're sure to die in the end, too; but +that don't keep you from goin' on tryin' every day to make a livin' and +have a little fun. It's all a game, and the old man with the mowin' +blade has the last call." + +"But," persisted Bob, "when you earn a thing and get what you earn, it +is really yours, and has a value and gives a pleasure that you can't +get out of money that comes any other way." + +"Don't you believe it," Noah shook his head lugubriously. "The easier +money comes the more I enjoy it. Only it don't never come. It goes. +This here gamblin' business reminds me of an old dominecker hen we used +to have. That hen produced an awful lot of cackle but mighty few eggs. +It is what my dad would have called the shadow without the substance. +But your blamed old tractor gives me a durned lot more substance than I +yearn for." + +They were still pushing among the jostling crowd. There were more than +a thousand men in the hall--and a few women. Soiled Mexicans passed +through the jostle with trays on their heads selling sandwiches and +bananas. Fragments of meat and bread and banana peelings were +scattered upon the sawdust floor. It was a grimy scene. And yet Bob +still acknowledged the tremendous pull of it--the raw, quick action of +the stuff that life and death are made of. + +Noah nudged Bob and nodded significantly toward the bar, where Reedy +with his three friends and two or three Mexicans, including Madrigal, +were drinking. + +"He's cookin' up something agin you," said Noah in a low tone. "Better +go over and talk to him. He's gettin' full enough to spill some of it." + +Bob took the suggestion and sauntered over toward the bar. As he +approached, Reedy turned around and nodded blinkingly at him. + +"Say," Reedy leaned his elbows on the bar and spoke in a propitiatory +tone, "I'sh sorry you went off in such a huff. Right good fello', I +understand. If you'd asked me, I'd saved you lot of trouble and money +on that lease." Reedy stopped to hiccough. "Even now, take your lease +off your hands at half what it cost." + +"So?" Bob smiled sarcastically. + +"Well, hell," Reedy was nettled at the lack of appreciation of his +generosity, "that's a good deal better than nothing." + +"My lease is not on the market," Bob replied, dryly. + +"Now look here!" Reedy half closed his plump eyes and nodded +knowingly. "'Course you are goin' to sell--I got to have four more +ranches to fill out my farm--and when I want 'em I get 'em, see? As +Davy Crockett said to the coon, 'Better come on down before I shoot, +and save powder.'" + +"Shoot," said Bob, contemptuously. + +"Now look here," Reedy lurched still closer to Bob, and put his plump +fingers down on the bar as though holding something under his hand; "I +got unlimited capital back of me--million dollars--two million--all I +want. That's on 'Merican side--on this side--I got pull. See? Fifty +ways I can squelch you--just like that." He squeezed his plump, soft +hand together as though crushing a soft-shelled egg. + +"You are drunk," Bob said, disgustedly, "and talking through a sieve." +He moved away from him and sauntered round the hall. At one of the +tables he came upon Rodriguez, the man he was looking for. + +He looked more Spanish than Mexican, had a moustache but did not curl +it, a thin face and soft brown eyes, and the pensive look of a poet who +is also a philosopher. + +"Well?" Bob questioned in an undertone as they drifted outside of the +gambling hall and stood in the shadows beyond the light of the open +doors. "Did you learn anything?" + +Rodriguez nodded. "They have two, three plans to make you get out. +Señor Madrigal is--what you call hem?--detec--detectave in Mexico. +Ver' bad man. He work for Señor Jenkins on the side." + +Bob left his Mexican friend. He stood in the shadow of the great +gambling hall for a moment, pulled in opposite directions by two +desires. He remembered a red spot on Reedy Jenkins' cheek just under +his left eye that he wanted to hit awfully bad. He could go back and +smash him one that would knock him clear across the bar. On the other +hand, he wanted to get on his horse and ride out into the silence and +darkness of the desert and think. After all, smashing that red spot on +Reedy's cheek would not save his ranch. He turned quickly down the +street to where his horse was hitched. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +One of the hardest layers of civilization for a woman to throw off is +the cook stove. She can tear up her fashion plates, dodge women's +clubs, drop her books, forsake cosmetics and teas, and yet be fairly +happy. But to the last extremity she clings to her cook stove. + +Imogene Chandler had her stove out in the open at a safe distance from +the inflammable weed roof of the "house." The three joints of +stovepipe were held up by being wired to two posts driven in the ground +beside it. + +The girl alternately stuffed light, dry sticks into the stove box, and +then lifted the lid of a boiling kettle to jab a fork into the potatoes +to see if they were done. The Chandler larder was reduced to the point +where Imogene in her cooking had to substitute things that would do for +things that tasted good. + +Chandler, in from the field, filled a tin washbasin at the tank, set it +on a cracker box, and proceeded to clean up for supper. He rolled his +sleeves up far above his elbows and scrubbed all the visible parts of +his body from the top of his bald head to the shoulder blade under the +loose collar of his open-necked shirt. About the only two habits from +his old life that clung to the ex-professor were his use of big words +and soap. + +Chandler sat down at the little board table, also out in the open. It +was after sundown and the heat was beginning to abate. As Imogene +poured coffee into the pint tin cup beside his plate she looked down at +him with protective admiration. + +"Dad, I'm proud of you. You've got a tan that would be the envy of an +African explorer; and you are building up a muscle, too; you are almost +as good a man in the field as a Chinese coolie--really better than a +Mexican." + +"It has been my observation," said the ex-professor, tackling the +boiled potatoes with a visible appetite, "that when a man quits the +scholarly pursuits he instinctively becomes an agriculturist. Business +is anathema to me; but I must confess that it gives me pleasure to +watch the germination of the seed, and to behold the flower and +fruitage of the soil." + +Imogene laughed. "It is the fruitage that I'm fond of--especially when +it is a bale to the acre. And it is going to make that this year or +more; I never saw a finer field of cotton." + +"It is doing very well," Chandler admitted with pride. "Yet, ah, +perhaps there is one field better, certainly as good, and that is the +American's north of here; the person you referred to as a fiddler." + +"Daddy," and under the tone of raillery was a trace of wistfulness, +"we've lived like Guinea Negroes here for three years, and yet I +believe you like it. I don't believe you'd go back right now as +professor of Sanskrit at Zion College." + +The little professor did not reply, but remarked as he held out the cup +for another pint of coffee: + +"I notice I sleep quite soundly out here, even when the weather is +excessively hot." + +The girl smiled and felt fully justified in the change she had forced +in his way of living. + +"I think," remarked Chandler, reflectively, "at the end of the month +I'll let Chang Lee go. I think I can some way manage the rest of the +season alone." + +"Perhaps," assented Imogene, soberly, as she began to pick up the +knives and forks and plates. She had not told him that when Chang +Lee's wages for June were paid it would leave them less than twenty +dollars to get through the summer on. "I've been learning to irrigate +the cotton rows and I can help," she said. "It will be a lot of fun." + +The ex-professor was vaguely troubled. He knew in a remote sort of way +that their finances were at a low ebb. Imogene always attended to the +business. + +"Do you suppose, daughter," he asked, troubled, "that it is practical +for us to continue in our present environment for another season?" + +"Surest thing, you know," she laughed reassuringly. "Run along now to +bed; you are tired." He sighed with a delicious sense of relief and +sleepiness, and went. + +But Imogene was not tired enough either to sit still or to sleep. She +got up and walked restlessly round the camp. Known problems and +unknown longings were stirring uneasily in her consciousness. + +She stood at the edge of the field where the long rows of cotton +plants, freshly watered, grew rank and green in the first intense heat +of summer. There was a full moon to-night--a hazy, sleepy full moon +with dust blown across its face creeping up over the eastern desert. + +Just a little while ago and it was all desert. Two years ago when they +first came this cotton field was uneven heaps of blown sand, desert +cactus, and mesquite--barren and forbidding as a nightmare of thirst +and want. It had taken a year's work and nearly all their meagre +capital to level it and dig the water ditches. And the next year--that +was last year--the crop was light and the price low. They had barely +paid their debts and saved a few hundred for their next crop. Now that +was gone, and with it six hundred, the last dollar she could borrow at +the bank. Just how they were going to manage the rest of the summer +she did not know. And worst of all were these vague but persistent +rumours and warnings that the ranchers were somehow to be robbed of +their crops. + +She turned and walked back into the yard of the little shack and stood +bareheaded looking at the moon, the desert wind in her face. Another +summer of heat was coming swiftly now. She had lived through two +seasons of that terrific heat when the sun blazed all day, day after +day, and the thermometer climbed and climbed until it touched the 130 +mark. And all these two years had been spent here at this shack, with +its dirt yard and isolation. + +The desert had bit deeply into her consciousness. Even the heat, the +wind-driven sand, the stillness, the aloneness of it had entered into +her soul with a sort of fascination. + +"I'm not sorry," she shut her hands hard and pressed her lips close +together, "even if we do lose--but we must not lose! We can't go on in +poverty, either here or over there. We must not lose--we must not!" + +She turned her head sharply; something toward the road had moved; some +figure had appeared a moment and then disappeared. A fear that was +never wholly absent made her move toward the door of her own shack. A +revolver hung on a nail there. + +And then out on the night stole the singing, quivering note of a +violin. Instantly the fear was gone, the tension past, and the tears +for the first time in all the struggle slipped down her cheeks. She +knew now that for weeks she had been hoping he would come again. + +When the violin cords ceased to sing, Imogene clapped her hands warmly, +and the fiddler rose from beside a mesquite bush and came toward her. + +"I'm glad you brought it this time," she said as he approached and sat +down on a box a few feet away. "That was the best music I have heard +for years." + +"The best?" he questioned. + +She caught the meaning in his emphasis and smiled to herself as she +answered: "The best violin music." Although her face was in the +shadow, the moonlight was on her hair and shoulders. Something in her +figure affected him as it had that night when she stood in the +doorway--some heroic endurance, some fighting courage that held it +erect, and yet it was touched by a yearning as restless and unsatisfied +as the desert wind. Bob knew her father was incapable of grappling +alone with the problems of life. This project had all been hers; it +was her will, her brain, her courage that had wrought the change on the +face of this spot of desert. Yet how softly girlish as she sat there +in the moonlight; and how alone in the heart of this sleeping desert in +an alien country. He wished she had not qualified that praise of his +playing. Bob knew very little about women. + +"How do you like being a cotton planter?" She was first to break the +silence. + +"Oh, very well." He turned his eyes from her for the first time, +looked down at his fiddle, and idly picked at one of the strings. "But +of course I can't truthfully say I love manual labour. I can do it +when there is something in it; but I much prefer a hammock and a shade +and a little nigger to fan me and bring me tall glasses full of iced +drinks." + +She laughed, for she knew already he had the reputation of being one of +the best workers in the valley. + +"But this country has me," he added. "It fascinates me. When I make a +fortune over here I'm going across on the American side and buy a big +ranch. + +"You know"--he continued softly to strum on the violin strings--"this +Imperial Valley seems to me like a magic spot of the tropics, some land +of fable. Richer than the valley of the Nile it has lain here beneath +the sea level for thousands of years, dead under the breath of the +desert, until a little trickle of water was turned in from the Colorado +River, and then it swiftly put forth such luxuriant wealth of food and +clothes and fruit and flowers that its story sounds like the demented +dreams of a bankrupt land promoter." + +"I am glad you like it," she said, "and I hope you'll get your share of +the fabled wealth that it is supposed to grow--and, oh, yes, by the +way, do you happen to need another Chinaman?" + +"No, I've got more than I can pay now." + +"We are going to let Chang Lee go the last of the month. He's a good +Chinaman, and I wanted him to have a job." + +"Why let him go?" + +"We won't need him." + +"Won't need him!" Bob exclaimed. "With a hundred and sixty acres of +cotton to irrigate and keep chopped out?" + +"I can do a lot of the irrigating"--the girl spoke a little +evasively--"and daddy can manage the rest." + +He knew this was another case of exhausted funds. + +"Can't you borrow any more?" + +She laughed a frank confession. + +"You guessed it. We haven't money to pay him. I've borrowed six +hundred on the crop, and can't get another dollar." + +He sat silent for several minutes looking off toward the cotton fields +that would cry for water to-morrow in their fight against the eternal +desert that brooded over this valley, thinking of her pluck. It made +him ashamed of any wavering thought that ever scouted through his own +mind. + +He stood up. "And are you going to see it through?" + +Alone beside the field as the moon rose she had wavered in doubt; but +the answer came now with perfect assurance. + +"Most surely." + +"So am I," he said. "Good-night." + +But before he turned she put out her hand to touch his violin--her +fingers touched his hand instead. + +"Please--just once more," she asked. + +He laughed whimsically as he sat down on the box and drew the bow. + +"I'm proud of the human race," he said, "that fights for bread and +still looks at the stars." + +He began to play: he did not know what. It might have been something +he had heard; but anyway to-night it was his and hers, the song of the +rose that fought the desert all day for its life and then blossomed +with fragrance in the night. + +At the sound of the violin a man sitting on the edge of the canal by +the cottonwood trees stirred sharply. There was a guitar across his +knee. He had been waiting for the sound of voices to cease; and now +the accursed fiddle was playing again. He spat vindictively into the +stream. + +"Damn the Americano!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +Bob saw as he turned into the Bungalow Court at El Centro a youngish +woman in white sitting on the second porch. In spite of the absence of +the weeds he recognized her as the widow who had come down the street +that other morning to meet Jim Crill. This, then, was Crill's place. +Evidently the twelve months of bereavement had elapsed, and Mrs. +Barnett, having done her full duty, felt that the ghost of her departed +could no longer have any just complaints if she wore a little white of +her own. + +Bob had come to see Crill. Since that evening with Imogene Chandler he +had worried a good deal about their being without money. He had tried +to get the ginning company that had advanced his own funds to make them +a loan. But everybody had grown wary and quit lending across the line. +Bob as a last resort had come up to see if Crill could be induced to +help. + +"Good morning." Rogeen lifted his straw hat as he stood on the first +step of the porch, and smiled. "Is Mr. Crill at home?" + +"No." Mrs. Barnett had nodded rather stiffly in response to his +greeting, and lifted her eyes questioningly. She was waiting for +someone else, and hence felt no cordiality for this stranger, whom she +dimly seemed to remember. + +"When will he be in?" The young man was obviously disappointed, and he +really was good to look at. + +"I don't know exactly." Mrs. Barnett relented slightly, having glanced +down the road to be sure another machine was not coming. "But as I +attend to much of his business, perhaps if you will tell me what it is +you want I can arrange it for you. Won't you come up and have a chair?" + +Bob accepted the invitation, not that he intended to mention his +business to her, but he had a notion that Jim Crill was due to arrive +about lunch time. + +"Are you from the East?" That was Mrs. Barnett's idea of tactful +flattery. She asked it of all callers. + +"Yes." + +"What part, may I ask?" + +"All parts," he smiled, "east of here and west of the Mississippi." + +"It is so different here," Mrs. Barnett lifted her brows and raised her +eyes as though she were singing "The Lost Chord," "from what I am used +to." + +"Yes," assented Bob, "it is different from what I am used to. That is +why I like it." + +"Oh, do you?" Shocked disappointment in her tone implied that it was +too bad he was not a kindred spirit. "I find everything so crude; and +such loose standards here." A regretful shake of the head. "The women +especially"--she thought of her tact again--"seem to have forgotten all +the formalities and nice conventions of good society--if they ever +knew. I suppose most of them were hired girls and clerks before they +were married." + +[Illustration: Reedy Jenkins makes a proposition to Imogene.] + +Bob made no comment. He did not know much about "nice formalities," +but it had struck him that the women of Imperial Valley were uncommonly +good, friendly human beings, and he had seen a number of college +diplomas scattered round the valley. + +"I heard of a woman recently," Mrs. Barnett went on, "who in the East +was in college circles; now she's living in a hut. Think of it, a hut +over on the other side among the Chinese and Mexicans! The only woman +there, and practically alone. It seems perfectly incredible! I don't +see how any decent woman could do a thing like that. Why, I'd rather +work in somebody's kitchen. There, at least, one could be respectable." + +Bob got up. + +"I guess I'll not wait longer for Mr. Crill," he said, and he went down +the steps, walking with rapid aversion. If Jim Crill left his business +to this female, he didn't want any of his money for the Chandlers. + +The ginning company had agreed to lend Bob up to $1,500 on the crop, +advancing it along as he needed it. He was renting his teams, and had +bought very little machinery, so he had managed to use less than his +estimate. On his way back to the ranch he stopped at the company's +office in Calexico, and drew two hundred dollars more on the loan. + +A few days later Rogeen, watching his opportunity, saw Chandler riding +alone toward town, and went out to the road and stopped him. After +some roundabout conversation Bob remarked: + +"By the way, a friend of mine has a little money he wants to lend to +cotton growers at 10 per cent. Do you suppose you would be able to use +a couple of hundreds of it?" + +"Ahem!" The ex-professor ran a bony hand over a lean chin. "It is +extremely probable, young man, extremely probable. I am very much +inclined to think that I can--that is, provided he would esteem my +personal signature to a promissory note sufficient guarantee for the +payment of the indebtedness." + +"That will be entirely sufficient." Bob smiled reassuringly, and +pretended to write out--it was already prepared--a note. Chandler +signed, and Bob gave him two hundred dollars in currency. + +The next evening when Bob returned from the field he found a sealed +envelope on the little board table in his shack. It contained $100 in +currency and a note which read: + + +You can't afford this loan; but we need the money so darned bad I'm +going to split it with you. I like the fiddle better than any musical +instrument that is made. + +I. C. + + +Toward the last of June old cotton growers told Bob that his field was +sure to go a bale and a quarter an acre, and Chandler's was about as +good. + +On the twenty-sixth of June a Mexican officer came to the ranch and +arrested Rogeen's Chinese cook and one of his field hands. Bob offered +bail, but it was refused. The day following the remaining Chinaman was +arrested. + +Bob got other hands, but on July first all three of these were arrested. + +"I see," Bob said to himself, thinking it over that evening, "this is +the first of Jenkins' schemes. They are going to make Chinamen afraid +to work for me. Well, Noah and I can manage until I can hire some +Americans." + +At nine o'clock it was yet too hot to sleep, and Bob too restless to +sit still. He got up and started out to walk. Without any definite +intention he turned down the road south. He had gone about half a mile +and thought of turning back when he saw something in the road +ahead--something white. It was a woman, and she was running toward him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +Bob hastened to meet the figure in the road. He knew it was Imogene +Chandler, and that her haste meant she was either desperately +frightened or in great trouble. + +"Is that you, Mr. Rogeen?" She checked up and called to him fifty +yards away. + +"Yes. What is the matter?" + +"I've been frightened three times in the last week." She caught her +breath. "A man hid in the weeds near the house, and his movements gave +me a scare; but I didn't think so much about it until Saturday night, +when I went out after dark to gather sticks for the breakfast cooking, +a man slipped from the shadow of the trees and spoke to me and I ran +and he followed me nearly to the house. I got my gun and shot at him. + +"But to-night," she gasped for breath again, "just as I was going from +papa's tent to my own, a man jumped out and grabbed me. I screamed and +he ran away." + +Bob put his hand on her arm. He felt it still quivering under his +fingers. + +"I'll walk back with you," he said in a quiet, reassuring tone. + +"Can you lend me a blanket?" he asked when they reached the Chandler +ranch. "And let me have your gun, I'll sleep out here to one side of +your tent." + +She protested, but without avail. + +Next morning when Bob returned to his own ranch he spoke to Noah +Ezekiel Foster. + +"Noah, this afternoon move your tent down to the Chandler ranch. Put +it up on the north side of Miss Chandler's so she will be between yours +and her father's. I'm going to town and I'll bring out a +double-barrelled riot shotgun that won't miss even in the dark. You +and that gun are going to sleep side by side." + +Noah Ezekiel grinned. + +Bob went to the shack, put his own pistol in his pocket, and rode off +to Calexico. + +Reedy Jenkins sat at his desk in shirt sleeves, his pink face a trifle +pasty as he sweated over a column of figures. He looked up annoyedly +as someone entered through the open door; and the annoyance changed to +surprise when he saw that it was Bob Rogeen. + +"I merely came in to tell you a story," said Bob as he dropped into a +chair and took a paper from the pocket of his shirt and held it in his +left hand. + +"This," Bob flecked the paper and spoke reminiscently, "is quite a +curiosity. I got it up near Blindon, Colorado. A bunch of rascals +jumped me one night when my back was turned. + +"Next day my friends hired an undertaker to take charge of my remains, +and made up money to pay him. This paper is the undertaker's receipt +for my funeral. + +"The rascals did not get either me or the cash they were after; but +they taught me a valuable lesson: never to have my back turned again." + +He stopped. + +"You see," went on Bob in a tone that did not suggest argument, "there +is a ranch over my way you happen to want--two of them, in fact. The +last week the lessees have both been much annoyed; the one on the south +one especially. + +"Now, of course, we can kill Madrigal and any other Mexican that keeps +up that annoyance. But instead, I suggest that you call them off. For +the Chandlers have fully made up their minds not to sell, and so have +I." + +Bob rose. "If anything further happens down there, I'm afraid there'll +be an accident on this side of the line. It was merely that you might +be prepared in advance that I dropped in this morning to make you a +present of this." He tossed the paper on Jenkins' desk and went out. + +Reedy picked up the receipt. The undertaker, after Rogeen's recovery, +had facetiously written on the back: + + +This receipt is still good for one first-class funeral--and it is +negotiable. + + +Reedy felt all the sneer go out of his lips and a sort of coldness +steal along his sweaty skin. Underneath this writing was another line: + + +Transferred for value received to Reedy Jenkins. + BOB ROGEEN. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +It was five minutes after Bob Rogeen had gone out of the door before +Reedy Jenkins stirred in his chair. Then he gave his head a vicious +jerk and swiped the angling wisp of hair back from his forehead. + +"Oh, hell! He can't bluff me." + +He sat gritting his teeth, remembering the insulting retorts he might +have made, slapped his thigh a whack with his open hand in vexation +that he had not made them; got up and walked the floor. + +No, he was not afraid of Rogeen, not by a damned sight. Afraid of a +twenty-dollar hardware clerk? _Not much!_ He would show him he had +struck the wrong town and the wrong man for his cheap bluffs. And yet +Reedy kept remembering a certain expression in Rogeen's eye, a certain +taut look in his muscles. Of course a man of Reedy's reputation did +not want to be mixed up in any brawls. Whatever was done, should be +done smoothly--and safely. + +He telephoned for Madrigal, the Mexican Jew. Madrigal could manage it. + +While waiting for his agent, Reedy lighted a cigar, but became so +busily engaged with his thoughts that he forgot to puff until it went +out. Jenkins was taking stock of the situation. He had boasted of his +influence with the Mexican authorities; but like most boasters he was +talking about the influence he was going to have rather than what he +had. Just now he was not sure he had any pull across the line at all. +Of course as a great ranch owner and a very rich man--as he was going +to be inside of three years--he could have great influence. And yet he +remembered that the present Mexican Governor of Baja California was an +exceedingly competent man. He was shrewd and efficient, and deeply +interested in the development of his province. Moreover, he was +friendly to Americans, and seemed to have more than an ordinary sense +of justice toward them. + +Reedy shook his head. He did not believe he could have much chance +with the Governor--not at present, anyway. But perhaps some minor +official might help put over his schemes. Anyway, Madrigal would know. + +The Mexican Jew came directly, dressed in light flannels, a flower in +his buttonhole. Debonairly he lifted his panama and bowed with +exaggerated politeness to Jenkins. + +"What great good has Señor Reedy clabbering in his coco now?" He +grinned impudently. + +Jenkins frowned. His dignity was not to be so trifled with. + +"Sit down," he ordered. + +Reedy relighted his cigar, put his thumbs in his vest holes, and began +slowly puffing smoke toward the ceiling. He liked to keep his +subordinates waiting. + +"Madrigal," he said, directly, "I want those two ranches--Chandler's +and Rogeen's." + +"_Si, si._" The Mexican nodded shrewdly. "And Señor Jenkins shall +have them." + +"We've got to get rid of Rogeen first. Then the other will be easy." + +"Et es so, señor," Madrigal said, warmly. He abated Rogeen on his own +account, for Señor Madrigal had formed a violent attachment for the +Señorita Chandler. And the damned Americano with his fiddle was in the +way. + +"If," suggested Reedy, smoking slowly, "Rogeen should be induced to +leave the country within three weeks--or in case he happened to some +accident so he could not leave at all--we'd make four thousand out of +his ranch. Half of that would be two thousand." + +Madrigal's black eyes narrowed wickedly, and his thick lips rolled up +under his long nose. + +"Mexico, señor, is the land of accidents." + +"All right, Madrigal," Reedy waved dismissal and turned to his desk and +began to figure--or pretend to figure. + +The Mexican turned in the door, looked back on the bulky form of +Jenkins, started to speak, grinned wickedly, and went down the outside +stairway. + + +On the evening of the third of August Bob came in from the fields and +prepared his own supper. Since the arrest of his Chinamen a few weeks +before Rogeen had not employed any other help. The cotton cultivation +was over, and he and Noah could manage the irrigation. The hill billy +had gone to town early in the afternoon, and would return directly to +the Chandler ranch where he was still on guard at nights. Bob believed +his warning to Jenkins had stopped all further molestation, but he was +not willing to take any chances--at least not with Imogene Chandler. + +Bob had been irrigating all day and was dead tired. After supper he +sat in front of his shack as usual to cool a little before turning in. +The day had been the hottest of the summer, and now at eight o'clock it +was still much over a hundred. + +In that heat there is little life astir even in the most luxuriant +fields. It was still to-night--scarcely the croak of a frog or the +note of a bird. There was no moon, but in the deep, vast, clear spaces +of the sky the stars burned like torches held down from the heavens. A +wind blew lightly, but hot off the fields. The weeds beside the +ditches shook slitheringly, and the dry grass roof of the shack rustled. + +To be the centre of stillness, to be alone in a vast space, either +crushes one with loneliness or gives him an unbounded exhilaration. +To-night Bob felt the latter sensation. It seemed instead of being a +small, lost atom in a swirling world, he was a part of all this lambent +starlight; this whispering air of the desert. + +He breathed slowly and deeply of the dry, clean wind, rose, and +stretched his tired muscles, and turned in. So accustomed had he +become to the heat that scarcely had he stretched out on the cot before +he was asleep. And Bob was a sound sleeper. The sides of the shack +were open above a three-foot siding of boards, open save for a mosquito +netting. An old screen door was set up at the front, but Bob had not +even latched that. If one was in danger out here, he was simply in +danger, that was all, for there was no way to hide from it. + +A little after midnight two Mexicans crept along on all-fours between +the cotton rows at the edge of Bob's field. At the end of the rows, +fifty yards from the shack, they crouched on their haunches and +listened. The wind shook the tall rank cotton and rustled the weeds +along the ditches. But no other sound. Nothing was stirring anywhere. + +Bending low and walking swiftly they slipped toward the back of the +shack. Their eyes peered ahead and they slipped with their hearts in +their throats, trusting the Americano was asleep. + +He was. As they crouched low behind the shelter of the three-foot wall +of boards they could hear his breathing. He was sound asleep. + +Slowly, on hands and knees, they crawled around the west side toward +the entrance. In the right hand of the one in front was the dull glint +of a knife. The other held a revolver. + +Cautiously the one ahead tried the screen door--pushing it open an inch +or two. It was unlatched. Motioning for the other to stand by the +door, he arose, pushed the door back with his left hand very slowly so +as not to make a squeak. In the right he held the knife. + +Bob stirred in his sleep and turned on the cot. The Mexican stood +motionless, ready to spring either way if he awoke. But the steady +breathing of a sound sleeper began again. + +The Mexican let the door to softly and took one quick step toward the +bed. + +Then with a wild, blood-curdling yell he fell on the floor. Something +from above had leaped on him, something that enveloped him, that +grappled with him. He went down screaming and stabbing like a madman. +His companion at the door fired one shot in the air, dropped his gun, +and ran as if all the devils in hell were after him. + +The commotion awoke Bob. Instantly he sat up in bed, and as he rose he +reached for a gun with one hand and a flashlight with the other. In an +instant the light was in the Mexican's face--and the gun also. + +"Hold up your hands, Madrigal." Bob's tone brought swift obedience. +Around the Mexican and on him were the ripped and torn fragments of a +dummy man--made of a sack of oats, with flapping arms and a tangle of +ropes. Bob had not felt sure but some attempt might be made on his +life, and half in jest and half as a precaution, he and Noah had put +this dummy overhead with a trip rope just inside the door. They knew +the fright of something unexpected falling on an intruder would be more +effective than a machine gun. + +"Get up," Bob ordered, and the shaken Madrigal staggered to his feet, +with his hands held stiffly straight up. "March out." Rogeen's +decision had come quickly. He followed with the gun in close proximity +to the Mexican's back. + +Madrigal was ordered to pick up a hoe and a shovel, and then was +marched along the water ditch toward the back of the field. + +"Here." Bob ordered a stop. They were half a mile from the road, at +the edge of the desert. The Mexican had recovered enough from his +first fright to feel the cold clutch of another, surer danger. "Dig," +ordered Bob. And the Mexican obeyed. "About two feet that way." Bob +sat down on the bank of the water ditch and kept the digger covered. +"Make it seven feet long," he ordered, coldly. + +Slowly Madrigal dug and shovelled, and slowly but surely as the thing +took shape, he saw what it was--a grave. His grave! + +He glared wildly about as he paused for a breath. + +"Hurry," came the insistent command. + +Another shovelful, and he glanced up at the light. But the muzzle of +the gun was level with the light! A wrong move and he knew the thing +would be over even before the grave was done. + +For an hour he worked. Off there at the edge of the desert, this grave +levelled as a part of the cotton field--and no one would ever find it. +His very bones seemed to sweat with horror. Was the American going to +bury him alive? Or would he shoot him first? + +All the stealth and cruelty he had ever felt toward others now turned +in on himself, and a horror that filled him with blind, wild terror of +that hollow grave shook him until he could no longer dig. He stood +there in front of the flashlight blanched and shaking. + +"That will do," said Rogeen. "Madrigal," he put into that word all the +still terror of a cool courage, "that is your grave." + +For a full moment he paused. "You will stay out of it just as long as +you stay off my land--out of reach of my gun. Don't ever even pass the +road by my place. + +"Your boss has had his warning. This is yours. That grave will stay +open, day and night, waiting for you. + +"Good-night, Señor Madrigal. Go fast and don't look back." + +The last injunction was entirely superfluous. + +After the night had swallowed up the fleeing figure Bob rolled on the +bank and laughed until his ribs ached. + +"No more oat sacks for Señor Madrigal! I wonder who the other one +was--and what became of him?" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +It was October. The bolls had opened beautifully. The cotton was +ready to pick. As Bob and Noah walked down the rows the stalks came up +to their shoulders. It was the finest crop of cotton either of them +had ever seen. + +"As dad used to say," remarked Noah Ezekiel, "the fields are white for +the harvest, but where are the reapers?" There was no one in the +fields at work. + +Bob shook his head gloomily. "I have no money for the pickers. I owe +you, Noah, for the last two months." + +"Yes, I remember it," said the hill billy, plucking an extra large boll +of lint. "I've tried to forget it, but somehow those things sort of +stick in a fellow's mind." + +In August the great war had broke in Europe. + +Ships were rushing with war supplies, blockades declared, factories +shut down. The American stock exchanges had closed to save a panic. +Buying and selling almost ceased. Money scuttled to the cover of +safety vaults, and the price of cotton had dropped and dropped until +finally it ceased to sell at all. + +"It is going to bankrupt almost every grower in the valley," remarked +Bob. "I'm certainly sorry for the Chandlers. They're up against it +hard." + +"As the poet says," Noah Ezekiel drew down the corners of his mouth, +pulling a long face, "ain't life real?" + +Bob laughed in spite of troubles. "Noah, I believe you'd joke at your +own funeral." + +"Why shouldn't I?" said Noah. "You joked with your undertaker's +receipt." He grinned at the recollection of that event. "You sure +broke that yellow dog Jenkins from suckin' eggs--temporarily." + +"But ain't he stuck with his leases though. If I had as much money as +he owes, I could fix these gamblers at the Red Owl so they wouldn't +have to work any for the rest of their natural lives." + +"Noah," Bob turned to his faithful foreman, "I want you to stick until +we put this thing through. I'll see you don't lose a dollar." + +"Don't you worry about me sticking," said Noah Ezekiel. "I never quit +a man as long as he owes me anything." + +The loyalty of the hill billy touched Rogeen, but as is the way of men, +he covered it up with a brusque tone. + +"You get the sacks ready. I'm going in to town and raise the money +somehow to pick this cotton. I'll pick it if I never get a dollar out +of it--can't bear to see a crop like that go to waste." + +The cotton-gin people were in a desperate panic, but Bob went after +them hard: + +"Now see here, that war in Europe is not going to end the world; and as +long as the world stands there will be a demand for cotton. This +flurry will pass, and there's sure to be a big jump in the market for +cotton seed. The war will increase the demand for oils of all kinds. + +"That cotton has got to be picked, and you'll have to furnish the +money. When it is ginned you can certainly borrow five cents a pound +on it. That will pay for the water and the lease, the picking and the +ginning--and the duty, too. + +"Now you get the money for me to pick my field and Chandler's field. +They owe only $600 on the crop; so you'll be even safer there than with +me. We'll leave the cotton with you as security. And then after you +have borrowed all you can on it, I'll give you my personal note for all +the balance I owe, and see you get every dollar of it, if I have to +work it out during the next three years at twenty dollars a week." + +It was that promise that turned the scales. No man of discernment +could look at Rogeen and doubt either his pluck or his honesty. + +Two days later forty Chinamen, more eager for jobs now than ever, were +picking cotton at the Chandler and Rogeen ranches--twenty at each place. + + +Tom Barton went up the outside stairway thumping each iron step +viciously. Six months of gloomy forebodings had terminated even more +disastrously than he had feared. He found Reedy Jenkins rumpled and +unshaven, laboriously figuring at his desk. + +Reedy looked up with a sly-dog sort of smile. There were little rims +of red round his eyes, but it was plain he had something new to spring +on his creditor. + +"I'm not figuring debts"--Jenkins reached in the drawer and got out a +cigar and lighted it--"but profits." + +"Yes," said Barton, murderously, "that is what you are always figuring +on. Debts don't mean anything to you, because you aren't worth a damn. +But debts count with me. You owe me $40,000 on this bright idea of +yours, and your leases aren't worth a tadpole in Tahoe." + +"Easy, easy!" Reedy waved his hand as though getting ready to make a +speech. "Perhaps I have temporarily lost my credit; but with a +requisite amount of cash, a man can always get it back--or do without +it. + +"I admit this damn war has swamped me. I admit on the face of the +returns I am snowed under--bankrupt to the tune of over $200,000. But +nevertheless and notwithstanding I am going to get away with some coin." + +"Well, I hope you don't get away with mine," growled Barton. + +A laundry driver entered the door with a bill in his hand. Reedy grew +a little redder and waved at the man angrily. + +"Don't bother me with that now; don't you see I'm busy?" + +"So am I," said the driver, aggressively, "and this is the third call." + +"Leave it," said Jenkins, angrily, "and I'll have my secretary send you +a check for it." + +The driver threw it on Reedy's desk and left sullenly. Barton caught +the figures on the unpaid bill--seventy-eight cents. + +"I admit," Barton spoke sarcastically as he started for the door, "that +your credit is gone. But if you don't dig up that forty thousand, +you'll be as sorry you ever borrowed it as I am that I lent it." + + +The last of November Bob went down to the Chandler ranch to give an +account of the cotton picking. + +"You have 150 bales at the compress. I put up the compress receipts +for the debts," said Bob to Imogene. "There is $3,123 against your +cotton. I could not borrow another dollar on it." + +"You have done so much for us already," the girl said, feelingly. "And +we'll get along some way. If cotton would only begin to sell, we would +have a little fortune." + +"I have 180 bales," said Bob, "but I owe something over $4,000 on it. +I am going up to Calexico and get a job until spring." He hesitated a +moment, looking at the girl thoughtfully. The summer and hard work and +constant worry had left her thin and with a look of anxiety in her eyes. + +"Hadn't you also better move to town?" + +She laughed at that. "Why, dear sir, what do you suppose we should +live on in town? Out here we have no rent and can at least raise some +vegetables. No, we'll stick it out until we see whether this war is +merely a flurry or a deluge." + +For a week Bob hunted a job in Calexico. His need for funds was acute. +He had managed to get enough on his cotton to pay all his labour bills +but had not kept a dollar for himself. + +Tuesday evening he had gone up to his room at the hotel, a court room +with one window and broken plaster and a chipped water pitcher. There +was no job in sight. Everything was at a standstill, and the cotton +market looked absolutely hopeless. His note for the $4,000 fell due +January first. If he could not sell the cotton by that time, his +creditors would take it over; and besides, he was held for any amount +of the debt above what the cotton would bring at a forced sale. + +He was bluer than he had been since he lost that first good job nine +years ago. He went to the battered old trunk, opened the lid, and +lifted the fiddle; stood with it in his hands a moment, put it against +his shoulder and raised the bow. He was thinking of her, the girl left +alone down there on the ranch--still fighting it out with the desert, +the Mexicans, and the trailing calamities of this World War. He +dropped the bow, he could not play. And just as he was returning the +fiddle to his trunk there was a knock followed by the opening of the +door. A chambermaid's head pushed in. + +"There's a man down in the office wants to see you," announced the girl. + +"Who is it?" asked Bob. + +"Dunno--old fellow with eyebrows like a hair brush--and a long linen +duster." + +"I'll be right down," said Bob. + + +Jim Crill was sitting in a corner of the hotel office when Rogeen came +down; and he motioned to Bob to take the chair beside him. + +"Notice a cotton gin being built across the line?" the old gentleman +asked, crossing his legs and thrusting his hands into his trousers +pockets. + +"Yes," Bob nodded. "I wondered if you had." + +"Reckon I have," remarked Crill, dryly. "I'm puttin' up the money for +it." + +"You are?" Bob was surprised. This upset his suspicions in regard to +that gin. + +"Yes; don't you think it's a good investment?" The old gentleman's +keen blue eyes looked searchingly from under the shaggy brows at Rogeen. + +"Lots of cotton raised over there," Bob answered, noncommittally. "And +the Mexicans really ought to have a gin on their side of the line." + +The old gentleman cleared his throat as though about to say something +else; and then changed his mind and sat frowning in silence so long Bob +wondered why he had sent for him. + +"Lots of cotton raisers 'll go broke this fall." Crill broke the +silence abruptly. + +"Already are," replied Bob. + +"Know what it means." The old gentleman jerked his head up and down. +"Hauled my last bale of five-cent cotton to the store many a time, and +begged 'em to let the rest of my bill run another year. That was +before I ran the store myself; and then struck oil on a patch of Texas +land. Haven't got as much money as folks think but too much to let lie +around idle. Think this valley is a good place to invest, don't you?" +Again the searching blue eyes peered at the young man. + +"I certainly do," answered Bob with conviction. "The soil is +bottomless; it will grow anything and grow it all the year." + +"If it gets water," added the old gentleman. + +"Of course--but we had plenty of water this year. And," went on Bob, +"this war is not going to smash the cotton market forever. It's going +to smash most of us who have no money to hold on with. But next spring +or next summer or a year after, sooner or later, prices will begin to +climb. The war will decrease production more than it will consumption. +The war demands will send the price of wool up, and when wool goes up +it pulls cotton along with it. Cotton will go to twenty cents, maybe +more." + +"That sounds like sense." The old gentleman nodded slowly. "And it is +the fellow that is a year ahead that gets rich on the rise; and the +fellow a year behind that gets busted on the drop in prices." + +"There are going to be some fortunes made in raising cotton over +there," Bob nodded toward the Mexican line, "in the next four years +that will sound like an Arabian Nights' tale of farming. + +"I figured it out this summer. That land is all for lease; it is +level, it is rich. They get water cheaper than we do on this side; and +I can get Chinese help, which is the best field labour in the world, +for sixty-five cents to a dollar a day. I was planning before this +smash came to plant six hundred acres of cotton next year." + +"That's what I wanted to see you about," said Crill. "Want to lend +some money over there, and you are the fellow to do it. Want to lend +it to fellows you can trust on their honour without any mortgages. +Guess mortgages over there aren't much account anyway. + +"Want to keep the cotton industry up here in the valley. May want to +start a cotton mill myself. Anyway," he added, belligerently, "a lot +of 'em are about to lose their cotton crops; and this is a good time to +stick 'em for a stiff rate of interest. Charge 'em 10 per cent--and +half the cotton seed. I'm no philanthropist." + +Bob smiled discreetly at the fierceness. That was the usual rate for +loans on the Mexican side. And it was very reasonable considering the +risk. + +"Want to hire you," said the old man, "to lend money on cotton--and +collect it. What you want a month?" + +"I'll do it for $150 a month," answered Bob, "if it does not interfere +with my own cotton growing next spring." + +"We can fix that," agreed the old man. + +"I think," replied Bob, "the best loans and the greatest help would be +just now on the cotton already baled and at the compress. Most of the +growers have debts for leases and water and supplies and borrowed money +against their cotton, and cannot sell it at any price. Unless they do +sell or can borrow on it by January first, these debts will take the +cotton. If you would lend them six cents a pound on their compress +receipts that would put most of them in the clear, and enable them to +hold on a few months for a possible rise in price." + +"That's your business." The old gentleman got up briskly. "I'll put +$25,000 to your credit in the morning at the International Bank. It's +your job to lend it. When it's gone, let me know." + +"Oh, by the way," Bob's heart had been beating excitedly through all +this arrangement, but he had hesitated to ask what was on his mind. +"Do you mind if--if I lend myself five cents a pound on 180 bales?" + +The old man turned and glared at him fiercely. + +"Do you reckon I'd trust you to lend to others if I didn't trust you +myself? Make the loans, then explain the paper afterward." + +Next morning Bob bought a second-hand automobile for two hundred and +fifty dollars and gave his note for it. It was not much of an +automobile, but it was of the sort that always comes home. + +Rogeen headed straight south, and in less than an hour stopped at the +Chandler ranch. + +Imogene was under the shade of the arrow-weed roof, reading a magazine. +Rogeen felt a quick thrill as he saw her flush slightly as she came out +to meet him. + +"What means the gasolene chariot?" she asked. "Prosperity or mere +recklessness?" + +"Merely hopefulness," he answered. "I brought a paper for you. Sign +on the dotted line." He handed her a promissory note, due in six +months, for $4,500. + +"What is this?" She had been living so long on a few dollars at a time +that the figures sounded startling. + +"I've got a loan on your cotton," replied Bob with huge satisfaction. +"And you can have it as soon as you and your father have signed the +note." + +"Good heavens!" The blood had left her face. "You are not joking, are +you? Why, man alive, that means that we live! It will give us $1,400 +above the debts." + +Bob felt a choking in his throat. The pluckiness of the girl! And +that he could bring her relief! "Yes, and I'm going to take you back +to town, where you can pay off the debts and get your money." + +The exuberant gayety that broke over the girl's spirits as they +returned to town moved Bob deeply. What a long, hard pull she and her +father had had; no wonder the unexpected relief sent her spirits on the +rebound. + +"Thank the Lord," he said, fervently, to himself, "for that sharp old +man with bushy eyebrows!" + +As they drove up to the International Bank where Bob had asked the +compress company to send all the bills against the Chandler cotton, +another machine was just driving away and a woman was entering the bank. + +"By the great horn spoon," Bob exclaimed aloud, "that is Mrs. Barnett." + +"Who is Mrs. Barnett?" Imogene Chandler asked archly. "Some special +friend of yours?" + +"Hardly," Bob replied, remembering that Miss Chandler knew neither Jim +Crill nor his niece. + +"And the man who was driving away," said Imogene, "was Reedy Jenkins." + +"It was?" Bob turned quickly. "Are you sure? I was watching the woman +and did not notice the machine." + +[Illustration: A mutual discovery--they both cared.] + +As they entered the bank Mrs. Barnett, dressed in a very girlish +travelling suit, was standing by the check counter as though waiting. +At sight of Bob she nodded and smiled reservedly. + +"Oh, Mr. Rogeen," she arched her brows and called to him as he started +to the cashier's window with Imogene Chandler. + +Bob excused himself and approached her, a little uneasy and decidedly +annoyed. Her mouth was simpering, but her eyes had that sharp, +predatory look he had seen before. + +"Mr. Rogeen," she began in a cool, ladylike voice, "my uncle told me of +the arrangement he had made with you and asked me to O. K. all the +loans before you make them." + +"Is that so?" Bob felt a mingling of wrath and despair. "He did not +say anything to me about it." + +"N-o?"--questioningly--"we talked it over last night, and he felt sure +this would be the better plan." + +Bob hesitated for a moment. Imogene had gone to the other note +counter, and was trying idly not to be aware of the conversation. It +would be utterly too cruel to disappoint her now. It went against the +grain, but Rogeen swallowed his resentment and distaste. + +"All right," he nodded brightly. "I've got one loan already for you." +He drew the papers from his pocket. "It is six cents on 150 bales of +cotton now in the yards. Here are the compress receipts." + +"Whom is this for?" Her eyes looked at him challengingly; her lips +shaped the words accusingly. + +"To Miss Chandler and her father." Bob felt himself idiotically +blushing. + +Mrs. Barnett's face took on the frozen look of a thousand generations +of damning disapprobation. + +"No! Not one cent to that woman. Uncle and I don't care to encourage +that sort." + +For a moment Bob stood looking straight into the frigid face of Mrs. +Barnett. It was the first time in his life he would have willingly +sacrificed his personal pride for money. He would have done almost +anything to get that money for Imogene Chandler. But it was useless to +try to persuade the widow that she was wrong. Back of her own +narrowness was Reedy Jenkins. This was Reedy's move; he was using the +widow's vanity and personal greed for his own ends; and his ends were +the destruction of Rogeen and the capitulation of Miss Chandler. + +Mrs. Barnett's eyes met his defiantly, but her mouth quivered a little +nervously. A doubt flashed through his mind. Was she authorized to do +this? Surely she would not dare take such authority without her +uncle's consent. He might telephone, anyway, then a more direct +resolution followed swiftly. He turned away from Mrs. Barnett and went +to the cashier's window. + +"Did Jim Crill deposit $25,000 here subject to my check?" he asked. + +"He did," replied the cashier. + +"Are there any strings to it?" + +"None," responded the cashier promptly. + +Without so much as glancing toward the widow, who had watched this move +with a venomous suspicion, Bob went to Miss Chandler by the desk and +took the papers from his pocket, and laid them before her. + +"Indorse the compress receipts over to Mr. Crill." + +Then he wrote two checks--one to the bank for $3,123 to pay off all the +claims against the Chandler cotton and one to Imogene for $1,377. + +"You don't know, Mr. Rogeen," she started to say in a low, tense voice +as she took the check, "how much----" + +"I don't need to," he smilingly interrupted her gratitude, "for it +isn't my money. I'll see you at lunch; and then take you back home in +my car." He lifted his hat and turned back to the counter where Mrs. +Barnett stood loftily, disdainfully, yet furiously angry. + +"Well," said Bob, casually, "I've made one loan, anyway." + +"It will be your last." Mrs. Barnett clutched her hands vindictively. +"You'll be discharged as quick as I get to Uncle Jim." + +Bob really expected he would, but not for three jobs would he have +recalled that loan and the light of relief in Imogene Chandler's eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +Mrs. Barnett went direct from the bank to Reedy Jenkins' office. As +she climbed the outside stairway she was so angry she forgot to watch +to see that her skirts did not lift above her shoe tops. As she +entered the door her head was held as high and stiff as though she had +been insulted by a disobedient cook. White showed around her mouth and +the base of her nose, and her nostrils were dilated. + +"Why, Mrs. Barnett!" Reedy arose with an oratorical gesture. "What a +pleasant surprise. Have a chair." + +She took the chair he placed for her without a word and her right hand +clutched the wrist of the left. She was breathing audibly. + +"Did you see Rogeen?" Jenkins suggested suavely. + +"Yes." The tone indicated that total annihilation should be the end of +that unworthy creature. But her revenge, like Reedy's expectations, +was in the future. She hated to confess this. She breathed hard +twice. "And I'll show him whose word counts." + +"You don't mean," Reedy swiped his left hand roughly at the wisp of +hair on his forehead, "that he disregarded your wishes?" + +"He certainly did." Indignation was getting the better of her voice. +"The low-lived--the contemptible--common person. And he insulted me +with that--that creature." + +"Well, of all the gall!" Reedy was quite as indignant as Mrs. Barnett, +for very different if more substantial reasons. He had seen more and +more that a fight with Rogeen was ahead, a fight to the finish; and the +further he went the larger that fight looked. The easiest way to smash +a man, Reedy had found, was to deprive him of money. A man can't carry +out many schemes unless he can get hold of money. Jenkins had kept a +close eye on Jim Crill, and had grown continually more uneasy lest the +old chap become too favourably impressed with Rogeen. He had early +sensed the old man's weak spot--one of them--Crill hated to be +pestered. That was the vulnerable side at which Evelyn Barnett, the +niece, could jab. And Reedy had planned all her attacks. This last +move of Crill's--hiring Rogeen to lend money for him, had alarmed Reedy +more than anything that had happened. For it would give Rogeen a big +influence on the Mexican side. Most of the ranchers needed to borrow +money, and it would put the man on whose word the loans would be made +in mighty high favour. To offset this, Reedy had engineered an attack +by Mrs. Barnett on the old gentleman's leisure. She had worried him +and nagged him with the argument that he ought not to bother with a lot +of business details, but should turn them over to her. She would see +to the little things for him. He had reluctantly granted some sort of +consent to this, a consent which Evelyn had construed meant blanket +authority. + +"He flatly refused," Mrs. Barnett was still thinking blisteringly of +Bob Rogeen, "to obey my wishes in the matter. I told him plainly," she +bit her lips again, "that neither Uncle nor I would consent to money +being furnished women like that." + +"I should say not." Reedy agreed with unctuous righteousness in his +plump face. "And to think of that scalawag, making a loan right in +your face, after you had vetoed it." + +"He'll never make another." Mrs. Barnett's lips would have almost bit +a thread in two. "Just wait until I get to Uncle Jim!" + +"I'll drive you up," said Reedy. He reached to the top of the desk for +his hat. + +"Of course," remarked Reedy on the way, "your uncle is very generous to +want to help these fellows across the line that are broke. But they +are riff-raff. He will lose every dollar of it. I know them. Good +Lord! haven't I befriended them, and helped them fifty ways? And do +they appreciate it? Well, I should say not!" + +"The more you do for people the less they appreciate it," said Mrs. +Barnett still in a bitter mood. + +"Some people," corrected Reedy. "There are a few, a very few, who +never forget a favour." + +"Yes, that is true," assented the widow, and began to relent in her +mind, seeing how kind was Mr. Jenkins. + +"I'm very sorry," continued Reedy, frowning, "that your uncle has taken +up this fellow. I've been looking up Rogeen's past--and he is no good, +absolutely no good. Been a drifter all his life. Never had a hundred +dollars of his own. + +"By the way," Reedy suddenly remembered a coincidence in regard to that +undertaker's receipt, "where was it your husband lost the sale of that +mine?" + +"At Blindon, Colorado." + +"By George!" Reedy released the wheel with the right hand and slapped +his leg. "I thought so. Do you know who that young man with the +fiddle was who ruined your fortune?" + +"No." Evelyn Barnett came around sharply. + +"Bob Rogeen--that fellow who insulted you this morning." + +"No? Not really?" Angry incredulity. + +Reedy nodded. "As I told you, I've been looking up his past. And I +got the story straight." + +"The vile scoundrel!" Mrs. Barnett said, bitterly. "And to think Uncle +would trust him with his money." + +"We must stop it," said Reedy. "It isn't right that your uncle should +be fleeced by this rascal." + +"He shan't be!" declared Mrs. Barnett, gritting her teeth. + +"There are too many really worthy investments," added Reedy. + +"I'll see that this is the last money that man gets," Mrs. Barnett +asseverated. + +"Your uncle is a little bull headed, isn't he?" suggested Reedy, +cautiously. "Better be careful how you approach him." + +"Oh, I'll manage him, never fear," she said positively. + +Jenkins set Mrs. Barnett down at the entrance to the bungalow court. +He preferred that Jim Crill should not see him with her. It might lead +him to think Reedy was trying to influence her. + +As Mrs. Barnett stalked up the steps, Jim Crill was sitting on the +porch in his shirt sleeves, smoking. + +"How are you feeling, dear?" she asked, solicitously. + +"Ain't feelin'," Crill grunted--"I'm comfortable." + +Evelyn sank into a chair, held her hands, and sighed. + +"Oh, dear, it is so lonely since poor Tom Barnett died." + +Uncle Jim puffed on--he had some faint knowledge of the poor deceased +Tom. + +"Do you know, Uncle Jim, I made a discovery to-day. The man who kept +my poor husband from making a fortune was that person." + +"What person?" growled the old chap looking straight ahead. + +"That Rogeen person you are trusting your money to." + +Jim Crill bit his pipe stem to hide a dry grin. He had often heard the +story of the bursted mine sale. He had some suspicions, knowing +Barnett, of what the mine really was. + +"And, Uncle Jim, of course you won't keep him. Besides, he insulted me +this morning." + +"How?" It was another grunt. + +Evelyn went into the painful details of her humiliation at the bank. +"When she got through Uncle Jim turned sharply in his chair. + +"Did you do that?" + +"Do what?" gasped Evelyn. + +"Try to interfere with his loans?" + +"Why, why, yes." She was aghast at the tone, ready to shed protective +tears. "Didn't you tell me--wasn't I to have charge of the little +things?" + +"Oh, hell!" Uncle Jim burst out. "Little things, yes--about the house +I meant. Not my business. Dry up that sobbing now--and don't monkey +any more with my business." + +Uncle Jim got up and stalked off downtown. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +Early one morning in March Bob picked Noah Ezekiel Foster up at a lunch +counter where the hill billy was just finishing his fourth waffle. + +"Want you to go out and look at two or three leases with me," said +Rogeen as they got into the small car. + +Bob had not lost his job with Crill over the Chandler loan. He was +still lending the old gentleman's money and doing it without Mrs. +Barnett's approval. But the widow had, he felt sure, done the moist, +self-sacrificing, nagging stunt so persistently that her uncle had +compromised by advancing much more money to Reedy Jenkins than safety +justified. Crill had never mentioned the matter, but Bob knew Jenkins +had got money from somewhere, and there certainly was no one else in +the valley that would have lent it to him. For Reedy had managed to +pick his cotton and gin it at the new gin on the Mexican side, where +the bales were still stacked in the yards. + +"Why do you suppose," asked Bob as they drove south past the Mexican +gin, "Jenkins has left his cotton over on this side all winter?" Bob +had formulated his own suspicions but wanted to learn what Noah Ezekiel +thought, for Noah picked up a lot of shrewd information. + +"Shucks," said Noah, "it's so plain that a way-farin' man though a +cotton grower can see. He's kept it over there because he owes about +three hundred thousand dollars on the American side, and as quick as he +takes it across the line there'll be about as many fellows pullin' at +every bale as there are ahold of them overall pants you see advertised." + +"But cotton is selling now; it was six cents yesterday," remarked Bob. +"At that he ought to have enough to pay his debts." + +Noah Ezekiel snorted: "Reedy isn't livin' to pay his debts. He ain't +hankerin' for receipts; what he wants is currency. His creditors on +the American side are layin' low, because they can't do anything else. +Reedy put one over on 'em when he built this gin. He can hold his +cotton over here for high prices, and let them that he owes on the +American side go somewhere and whistle in a rain barrel to keep from +gettin' dry. + +"As my dad used to say, 'The children of this world can give the +children of light four aces and still take the jack pot with a pair of +deuces.'" + +Bob knew Noah was right. He had watched Jenkins pretty closely all +winter. Reedy had endeavoured to convince all his creditors, and +succeeded in convincing some, that he had not brought the cotton across +the line because there was no market yet for it. "It is costing us +nothing to leave it over there, so why bring it across and have to pay +storage and also lose the interest on the $25,000 Mexican export duty +which we must pay when it is removed?" + +"Noah," remarked Bob, as the little car bumped across the bridge over +the irrigation ditch, "I'm taking you out to see a Chinaman's lease. +He has three hundred acres ready to plant and wants to borrow money to +raise the crop. If you like the field and I like the Chinaman, I'm +going to make the loan." + +"Accordin' to my observation," remarked Noah, "a heathen Chinese has +about all the virtues that a Christian ought to have, but ain't +regularly got. + +"The other mornin' after I'd been to the Red Owl the night before, I +felt like I needed a cup of coffee. I went round to a Chink that I'd +never met but two or three times, and says, 'John, I'm broke, will you +lend me a hundred dollars?' + +"That blasted Chink never batted an eye, never asked me if I owned any +personal property subject to mortgage, nor if I could get three good +men to go on my note. He just says, 'Surlee, Misty Foster,' and dived +down in a greasy old drawer and began to count out greenbacks. 'Here,' +I says, 'if you are that much of a Christian, I ain't an all-fired +heathen myself. Give me a dime and keep the change.'" + +Bob smiled appreciatively. "I've seen things like that happen more +than once. And it is not because they are simple and ignorant either." + +"You know," pursued Noah Ezekiel, "if I's Karniggy, I'd send a lot of +'em out as missionaries." + +They were at Ah Sing's ranch. The three-hundred-acre field was level +as a table, broken deep, thoroughly disked, and listed ready to water. +The Chinaman, without any money or the slightest assurance he could get +any for his planting, had worked all winter preparing the fields. + +Ah Sing stood in front of his weed-and-pole shack waiting with that +stoical anxiety which never betrays itself by hurry or nervousness. If +the man of money came and saw fit to lend, "vellee well--if not, doee +best I can." + +"You go out and take a look at the field," Bob directed Noah, "see if +there is any marsh grass or alfalfa roots, and look over his water +ditches while I talk to the Chinaman." + +"Good morning, Ah Sing," he said, extending his hand. + +"Good morning, Misty Rogee." The Chinaman smiled and gave the visitor +a friendly handshake. He was of medium height, had a well-shaped head +and dignified bearing, and eyes that met yours straight. He looked +about forty, but one never knows the age of a Chinaman. + +"Nice farm, Ah Sing," Bob nodded approvingly at the well-plowed fields. + +"He do vellee well." The Chinaman was pleased. + +"And you have no money to make a crop?" Bob asked. + +"No money," Ah Sing said, stoically. + +"I heard last fall you had made a good deal of money raising cotton +over here," suggested Bob. + +"Me make some," admitted Ah Sing. "Workee vellee hard many year--make +maybe eighteen--twentee thousan'." + +"What became of it, Ah Sing? Don't gamble, do you?" + +The Chinaman shook his head emphatically, "Me no gamble. +Gamble--nobody trust. Me pick cotton for Misty Jenkins." + +Bob was interested in that. He knew that after raising Jenkins' crop +Ah Sing had taken the contract to pick it. Bob had heard other things +but not from the Chinaman. "Didn't you make some money on that, too?" + +"No money." + +"Why not?" Bob spoke quickly. "Tell me about it, Ah Sing." + +The Chinaman sighed again and the long, long look came into his patient +oriental eyes. + +"Ah work in America ever since leetle boy--so high. After while I save +leetle money. Want go back China visit. I have cer-tificate. When I +come back, say it's no good. Put me in jail. Don't know why. Stay +long time. Send me back China. Then I come Mexico. Can't cross line; +say damn Mexican Chinaman. I raise cotton--I raise lettuce--make +leetle money. Maybee twent' thousan'. + +"Misty Jenkins say 'Ah Sing, want pick my cotton?' I say, 'Maybee.' +He say, 'Give you ten dollar bale. You do all work--feed Chinamen.' I +say, 'Vellee well.' Lots Chinaboys need work. I hire seven +hund'--eight hund'--maybee thousan.' I feed 'em. I pick cotton. Pick +eight thousan' bale. Take all my money feed 'em. I owe Chinaboys +fifty thousan' dollar. + +"No pay. No see Misty Jenkins. No cross line. Misty Jenkins pay +sometime maybee--maybee not." The old Chinaman shook his head +fatalistically. + +"And you spent all you had earned and saved in forty years, and then +went in debt fifty thousand to other Chinamen to pick that cotton, and +he hasn't paid you a dollar?" + +"No pay yet; maybee some time," he replied, stoically. + +"What a damn shame!" Bob seldom swore, but he felt justified for this +once. "Can't you collect it under the Mexican laws?" + +Ah Sing slowly, futilely, turned his hands palms outward. + +"Mexican say Misty Jenkins big man. Damn Chinaman no good no way." + +Noah Ezekiel came in from the field. + +"As my dad says," remarked the hill billy, "this Chink has held on to +the handle of the plow without ever looking back. The field is O. K." + +"How much will you need, Ah Sing?" Bob turned to the Chinaman. + +"Maybee get along with thousan' dollars--fifteen hund' maybee." + +"All right," said Bob, "I'm going to let you have it. You can get the +money three hundred at a time as you need it." + +Bob stood thinking for a moment. + +"Ah Sing," he said, decisively, "how would you like to have a partner? +Suppose I go in with you; furnish the money and look after the buying +and selling, tend to the business end; you raise the cotton. Me pay +all the expenses, including wages, for you; and then divide the +profits?" + +The Chinaman's face lost its stoic endurance and lighted with relief. + +"I likee him vellee much!" He put out his hand. "Me and you partners, +heh?" + +"Yes," Bob gripped the hand, "we are partners." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +Nothing Bob Rogeen had overheard about Reedy Jenkins and his schemes +had so intensified his anger as this treatment of the patient, +defenceless Ah Sing. + +"A Chinaman has the system," remarked Noah Ezekiel as they drove away. +"He'll lease a ranch, then take in half a dozen partners and put a +partner in charge of each section of the field. Raisin' cotton is +all-fired particular work, especially with borrowed water--there are as +many ways to ruin it as there are to spoil a pancake. And a partner +isn't so apt to go to sleep at the ditch." + +"That is why I went into partnership with Ah Sing," said Bob. "I have +never seen much money made in farming anywhere unless a man who had an +interest in the crop was on the job." + +"You bet you haven't," agreed Noah Ezekiel. "Absent treatment may +remove warts and bad dispositions, but it sure won't work on cockleburs +and Bermuda grass." + +For several miles Bob's mind was busy. + +"Noah," he asked, abruptly, "how would you like to go into partnership +with me and take over the management of that hundred and sixty acres we +cultivated last year?" + +"As my dad used to say," replied Noah Ezekiel, skeptically, "'Faith is +the substance of things hoped for'; and as I never hope for any +substance, I ain't got no faith--especially in profits. Whenever I +come round, profits hide out like a bunch of quails on a rainy day. I +prefer wages." + +Bob laughed. "Suppose we make it both. I'll pay you wages, and +besides give you one fifth of the net profits." + +"I reckon that'll be satisfactory," agreed Noah. "But any Saturday +night you find yourself a little short on net profits, you can buy my +share for about twenty dollars in real money." + +As they crossed the line Noah Ezekiel inquired: + +"But if me and the Chinaman raise your cotton, what are you goin' to +do?" + +"Raise more cotton," Bob answered. "You know," he spoke what had been +in his mind all the time, "I never saw anything I wanted as much as +that Red Butte Ranch. It is on that Dillenbeck System and its water +costs about twice as much as on the regular canals, but it is rich +enough to make up the difference." + +"Well, why don't you get it?" asked Noah. "Reedy Jenkins is goin' to +lose all his leases inside of a month if he doesn't sell 'em; and with +cotton at six cents, they ain't shovin' each other off of Reedy's +stairway tryin' to get to him first. It's my idea that a fellow could +buy out the Red Butte for a song, and hire a parrot to sing it for a +cracker." + +"But that is the smallest part of it," said Bob. "To farm that five +thousand acres in cotton this season would take round a hundred +thousand dollars, and," he laughed, "I lack considerable over +ninety-nine thousand of having that much." + +"Lend it to yourself out of money you are lending for old Crill," +suggested Noah. + +After Bob dropped Noah at the Greek restaurant--"Open Day and +Night--Waffles"--he drove down the street, stopped in front of an +office building, and went up to see a lawyer that he knew. + +"T. J.," he began at once, "I want you to see what is the lowest dollar +that will buy the Red Butte Ranch and its equipment. Reedy Jenkins +can't farm it, and he can't afford to pay $15,000 rent and let it lie +idle. You ought to be able to get it cheap. Get a rock-bottom offer, +but don't by any means let him know who wants it." + +As Bob went down the stairs his head was fairly whizzing with plans. +This thing had taken strong hold of him. He had longed for many months +to get possession of that ranch but had never seriously thought of it +as a possibility. But if Jim Crill would risk the money, it would be +the great opportunity. Five thousand acres of cotton might make a big +fortune in one year. + +"Of course"--doubt had its inning as he drove north toward El +Centro--"if he failed it would mean, instead of a fortune, a lifetime +debt." Yet he was so feverishly hopeful he let out the little machine +a few notches beyond the speed limit. At El Centro he went direct to +the Crill bungalow. + +Mrs. Barnett opened the door when he knocked, opened it about fourteen +inches, and stood looking at him as though he were a leper and had +eaten onions besides. + +"Is Mr. Crill in?" Bob asked. + +"Mr. Crill is not in." She bit off each word with the finality of a +closed argument and shut the door with a whack so decisive it was +almost a slam. + +Bob found Jim Crill in the lobby of the hotel, smoking; he sat down by +him, and concentrated for a moment on the line of argument he had +thought out. + +"Mr. Crill, cotton is selling at six cents now. It won't go any lower." + +"It doesn't need to as far as I'm concerned." The old gentleman puffed +his pipe vigorously. + +"It will be at least ten cents this fall." Bob was figuring on the +back of an old envelope. "Much more next year." + +Then he opened up on the Red Butte Ranch. Bob never did such talking +in his life. He knew every step of his plan, for he had thought out +fifty times just what he would do with that ranch if he had it. He +outlined this plan clearly and definitely to Jim Crill. He carefully +estimated every expense, and allowed liberally for incidentals. He +figured the lowest probable price for cotton, and in addition discussed +the possibilities of failure. + +"I feel sure," he concluded, definitely, "that I can put it through, +that I can make from fifty to a hundred and fifty thousand dollars in +profits on one crop. If you want to risk it and stake me, I'll go +fifty-fifty on the profits." + +"No partnership for me," Crill shook his head vigorously. He had made +some figures on an envelope and sat scowling at them. He had a good +deal of idle money. It this crop paid out--and he felt reasonably sure +Bob would make it go--it would give him $10,000 interest on the +$100,000; and his half of the cotton seed would be worth at least +$10,000 more. Twenty thousand returns against nothing was worth some +risk. + +"Besides," added Bob, "the lease itself, if cotton goes up, will be +worth fifty thousand next year." + +"That's what Reedy Jenkins said," remarked the old gentleman, dryly. +"Just left here an hour ago--wanted to borrow money to pay the rent +this year and let the land lie idle." + +Bob's heart beat uneasily. "Did you lend it to him?" + +"No!" The old man almost spat the word out. "He owes me too much +already." + +For two minutes, three, four, Jim Crill smoked and Bob waited, counting +the thump of his heartbeats in his temple. + +"I'll let you have the hundred thousand," he said directly. "I've +watched you; I know an honest man when I see one." + +Bob's spirits went up like a rocket; but his mind quickly veered round +to Reedy Jenkins. + +"This will make Reedy Jenkins about the maddest man in America," he +remarked. He knew now that Reedy would fight him to the bitterest end. + +Jim Crill grinned. "So'll Evy be mad. You fight Reedy, and I'll--run." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +Imogene Chandler was washing the breakfast dishes out under the canopy +of arrow-weed roof, where they ate summer and winter. The job was +quickly done, for the breakfast service was very abbreviated. She took +a broad-brimmed straw hat from a nail on the corner post, and swinging +it in her hand, for the sun was yet scarcely over the rim of the Red +Buttes far to the east, went out across the field to where her father +was already at work. + +March is the middle of spring in the Imperial Valley and already the +grass grew thick beside the water ditches, and leaves were full grown +on the cottonwood trees. The sunlight, soft through the dewy early +morning, filled the whole valley with a yellow radiance. And out along +the water course a meadowlark sang. + +The girl threw up her arm swinging the hat over her head. She wanted +to shout. She felt the sweeping surge of spring, the call of the wind, +the glow of the sunlight, the boundless freedom of the desert. She had +never felt so abounding in exuberant hope. It had been hard work to +hold on to this lease, a fight for bread at times. But wealth was here +in this soil and in this sun. And more than wealth. There was health +and liberty in it. No heckling social restrictions, no vapid idle +piffle at dull teas; no lugubrious pretence of burdensome duties. Here +one slept and ate and worked and watched the changing light, and +breathed the desert air and lived. It was a good world. + +The girl stopped and crumbled some of the newly plowed earth under the +toe of a trim shoe. How queer that after all these hundreds and +thousands of years the stored chemicals of this land should be +released, and turned by those streams of water into streams of +wealth--fleecy cotton, luscious fruit and melons, food and clothes. +And what nice people lived out here. The Chinamen who worked in the +field, quaint and friendly and faithful. Even the Mexicans with their +less industrious and more tricky habits were warm hearted and +courteous. That serenading Madrigal was very interesting--and +handsome. He had fire in him; perhaps dangerous fire, but what a +contrast to the vapid white-collared clerks or professors in the prim +little eastern town she had known. + +Of course Bob Rogeen did not like him. Imogene instinctively put up +her hand and brushed the wind-blown hair from her forehead, and smiled. + +Bob was jealous. + +But what a man Rogeen was! She had believed there were such men so +unobtrusively generous and chivalrous. But no one she had ever known +before was quite like Bob Rogeen. She remembered the black hair that +clustered thickly over his temples, and the whimsical twist of his +mouth, and the reticent but unafraid brown eyes. + +She had thought many, many times of Rogeen, and always it seemed that +he filled in just what was wanting in this desert--warmth of human +fellowship. Always she thought of him just north over there--out of +sight but very near. True he came very rarely. She wrinkled her +forehead and rubbed the end of her nose with a forefinger. Why was +that? Why didn't he come oftener? Wasn't she interesting? Didn't he +approve of her? + +A reassuring warmth came up to her face and neck. Yes, she believed he +did. His eyes looked it when he thought she was not noticing. + +[Illustration: Holy Joe shanghaies Imogene's ranchmen and discovers +Percy--a willing ally.] + +She reached down and picked up a stick and threw it with a quick, +impulsive gesture into the water and watched it float on down the +ditch. Yes, she was pretty sure Rogeen liked her--but how much? Oh, +well--she took a dozen girlish skips along the path, her hair flying +about her face, and her heart dancing with the early sun on the green +fields before her and the brown desert beyond--oh, well, time would +tell. + +"Daddy," she had come up to where the little bald-headed man was +plowing--throwing up the ridges, "don't you like spring?" + +The ex-professor stopped the team, looked at her through his glasses, +then glanced around the field at the grass and weeds and early plants +that were up. + +"I believe," he said, mildly, "that we are approaching the vernal +equinox. But I had not observed before the gradual unfoldment of +vegetation which we have come to associate in our minds with spring." + +"Oh, daddy, daddy," she laughed deliciously, and leaned over the handle +of the plow and pulled his ear. "You funny, funny man. Why, it's +spring, it's spring! Don't you feel it in your bones? Don't you love +the whole world and everybody?" + +Professor Chandler seriously contemplated the skyline, where the +sunlight showed red on the distant buttes. "I should say, daughter, +that it does give one a feeling of kinship with nature. I fancy the +early Greeks felt it." + +"I fancy they did," said Imogene, "especially if they were in love." + +"In love?" The professor brought his spectacles around to his daughter +questioningly. + +"With everything," she said, laughing. "Daddy, I'm awfully glad we are +back to the soil--instead of back to the Greeks." + +"I am not discontent with our environment." And the little professor +plowed on. She smiled maternally at his back. And then two swift +tears sprang to her eyes. Tender tears. + +"Dear old daddy. It has been good for him. He would have dried up and +blown away in that little old college." + +Returning to the shack she was still bareheaded. She loved the feel of +the sun, and the few freckles it brought only added a piquancy to her +face. + +"I wonder if he"--she meant Rogeen--"will make it go this year. I hope +he has a good crop. It makes one feel that maybe after all things are +as they ought to be when a man like he succeeds. Wonder what his plans +are?" + +Then as she sat down in the shade and began a little very necessary +mending: + +"I do wish he'd come over--and tell me some more about cotton +crops--and himself." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +It is a good thing the wind does not blow from the same direction all +the time. Things would never grow straight if it did. And if one +emotion persists too long the human mind becomes even worse twisted +than a tree. For that reason, if we are normal, buoyance and +depression, ecstasy and pain follow each other as regularly as ripples +on a stream. It is good they do, but it is hard to believe it when we +are down in the trough of the wave. + +As Bob started away with the promise of Jim Crill to lend him the money +for the Red Butte Ranch, his blood was pumping faster than the running +engine of his car. But directly enthusiasm began to slow down. + +Suppose he lost--what an appalling debt for a man working at a hundred +and fifty a month! It never figured in Bob's calculation to settle his +debts in red ink. And there were chances to lose. The lawyer was +waiting for him at the hotel when he returned. + +"I saw Jenkins," he reported. "Says they paid $20,000 for the Red +Butte lease last spring. Half of it for bonus on the lease, and half +for the equipment. He claims the mules and equipment are easily worth +$10,000; and he offers to sell lease and all for that, but won't +consider a dollar less. I heard on the street this evening that a +Chinaman had offered them $7,500. I have an option on it until eleven +o'clock in the morning at $10,000." + +"Thanks, T. J." Bob was figuring in his mind the basis of this price. +"I'll let you know before that time." He went up to his room to think +it out. He could hardly see any chance for loss, yet of course there +was. If this was such a sure thing, why had not some of the more +experienced cotton growers in the valley jumped at it? But Bob +dismissed that line of reasoning with a positive jerk of his head. +That was a weak man's reason--the excuse of failures, sheep philosophy. +Every day of the year some new man came into a community and picked up +a profitable opportunity that other people had stumbled over for years. + +The lease was certainly a bargain; the land was in excellent condition, +and there would be no difficulty about labour with plenty of Chinese +and Mexicans. The price of cotton could scarcely go lower. Bob had no +fear of that. Then what were the dangers? The chance of a water +shortage was remote. There had been little trouble about water. Of +course bad farming could spoil a crop; but Lou Wing was an expert +cotton grower, and you could trust a Chinaman's vigilance. With Lou as +a partner he could be sure the crop would receive proper attention. + +"It seems good!" Bob walked out of his room on to the balcony that ran +the length of the hotel and stood overlooking the twinkling lights of +the town. Calexico was getting to be quite a little city, and the +string of lights were flung out for half a mile to the east and north. +Across the line the high-arched sign of the Red Owl already winked +alluringly. + +He looked at his watch. It was only a quarter past eight. He turned +back to his room, took his violin from the battered trunk, went to the +garage, and in fifteen minutes was chugging south between the rows of +cottonwood and willows that stood dim guardians in the night against +the desert. + +Imogene Chandler heard the machine coming. She put on her new spring +coat and came out into the yard. The night was a little cool, and that +new coat was the first article of wearing apparel she had bought for +herself in three years. + +"I'm glad you brought your fiddle again," she said as Bob came into the +yard. She was bare-headed, and her hair showed loose and wavy in the +starlight. "I've felt rather lilty all day." She snapped her fingers +and danced round in a circle. "Just a little hippety-hoppety," she +laughed, dropping down upon the bench. "Sit down and play to us--me +and this wonderful night." + +"I want to talk first." He laid the fiddle across his knees. In spite +of the spell of the desert, figures were still running through his head. + +"How like a man!" she said, mockingly. "And is it about yourself?" + +"Of course," he replied, soberly. "You don't think I'd waste gasolene +to come down here to talk about any other man, do you?" + +"Before you begin on that absorbing subject," she bantered, "tell me, +will our cotton now sell for enough to pay Mr. Crill that note?" + +"Yes, but you are not going to sell it. He has extended the note +another six months. Cotton is going up this fall." + +"Isn't that great!" she exclaimed. "Here we have money enough for +another crop, and can speculate on last year's cotton by holding for +higher prices. Why, man, if it should go to ten cents we'd clear +$3,000 on that cotton above what we already have." + +"Yes, and if it goes to twelve, you'll have $4,500 to the good." + +He sat still for a moment, gripping the neck of his fiddle with his +fingers as though choking it into waiting. + +"Well?" she prompted. + +"I've got a chance for something big." He got up and walked, holding +the fiddle by the neck, swinging it back and forth. "If I put it +through, it will be a fortune; but if I fail I'll be in debt world +without end--mortgaged all the rest of my life!" + +Walking back and forth before her in the starlight he told Imogene +Chandler of the big opportunity--of the rare combination of +circumstances which made it possible for him, without property or +backing, to borrow one hundred thousand dollars for a crop; and +marshalled his reasons for belief in its success. "The water might +fail," she suggested, when he had finished and sat down again with the +fiddle across his knee. + +"Yes, it might," he admitted. + +"The Chinamen might get into trouble among themselves or with the +Mexicans and leave you at a critical time." + +"Possibly." + +"The duty might be raised on cotton," she added. + +"Yes," he confessed. + +"But," she continued, "there is one thing much more likely than any of +these--a thing fairly certain. Reedy Jenkins will fight you in every +way he can invent. First he'll fight to get your money; and then he'll +fight you just for hate." + +"I have thought of that," Bob again got up, moved by the agitation of +doubt. If it were his own money to be risked he would not hesitate a +moment--but one hundred thousand dollars of another man's money and his +own reputation! + +"For these reasons," continued Imogene Chandler, "I advise you to go +into it--and _you'll_ win. + +"Now play to me." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +Imogene Chandler had spoken most confidently to Bob of his success. +But after he was gone she began to be pestered by uneasy doubts--which +is the way of a woman. + +She and her father had been compelled to operate on small capital. +They had figured, or rather Imogene had, dollar at a time. This new +venture of Rogeen's rather appalled her. A hundred thousand of +borrowed money! It was almost unthinkable. Anywhere else but in this +land of surprises such a proposition would seem entirely fantastic. + +With so much involved any disastrous turn would leave him hopelessly in +debt. And besides--her thoughts took a more uneasy turn--she felt it +was going to put him in danger. Reedy Jenkins and his Mexican +associates would be very bitter over Bob's getting the Red Butte--and +they might do anything. + +The next evening, when Noah Ezekiel came over, Imogene had not gone to +her shack. + +"Sit down, Noah," she said, "I want to talk to you." + +"That's what my maw used to say when I'd been swimmin' on Sunday," +observed the hill billy as he let his lank form down on the bench. + +Imogene laughed. "Well, I'm not going to scold you for breaking the +Sabbath or getting your feet wet, or forgetting to shut the gate. What +I want, Noah, is to get your opinion." + +"It's funny about opinions," remarked Noah impersonally to the stars. +"Somebody is always gettin' your opinion just to see how big a fool you +are, and how smart they are." + +"Noah Ezekiel Foster," the girl spoke reprovingly. "You know better +than that. You know I want your opinion because I think you know more +about cotton than I do." + +"All right," said Noah, meekly. "Lead on. I got more opinions in my +head than Ben Davis' sheep used to have cockle burs in their wool." + +"What do you think of the Red Butte Ranch?" + +"It's a blamed fine ranch." + +"Do you think Mr. Rogeen will make money on it?" She tried to sound +disinterested. + +"That reminds me," replied Noah, "of Sam Scott. Sam went to Dixion and +started a pool hall under Ike Golberg's clothing store. After Sam got +it all fixed up with nice green-topped tables and white balls, and +places to spit between shots, he got me down there to look it over. + +"'How does she look?' says Sam. + +"'She looks all right,' I said. + +"'I'm going to get rich,' declares Sam. + +"'That all depends' I says, 'on one thing.' + +"'What's that?' says Sam. + +"'On whuther there is more money comes down them stairs than goes up.'" + +Noah twisted his shoulders and again looked up impersonally at the +stars. + +"You see makin' money is mighty simple. All you got to do is take in +more than you pay out. But the dickens of it is, losin' it is just as +simple--and a durned sight easier." + +Imogene was smiling into the dusk, but her thoughts were on serious +matters. + +"Well, which do you think Mr. Rogeen will do?" + +Noah twisted his shoulders again, and shuffled his feet on the ground. + +"I always hate to give a plumb out opinion--because it nearly always +ruins your reputation as a prophet. But Bob ain't nobody's fool. And +he's white from his heels to his eyeballs--everything except his liver." + +Imogene laughed, but felt a swelling in the throat. That tribute from +the hill bill meant more than the verdict of a court. + +"The only trouble is," Noah was speaking a little uneasily himself, +"Reedy Jenkins is a skunk and he's got some pizen rats gnawing for him. +There ain't nothin' they won't do--except what they are afraid to. +Bob's got 'em so they don't tie their goats around his shack any more. +But they are going to do him dirt, sure as a tadpole makes a toad. + +"Reedy Jenkins has got hold of a lot of money somewhere again; and he's +set out to bush Bob, and get away with the pile. I don't know just how +he's aimin' to do it; but Reedy don't never have any regrets over what +happens to the other fellow if it makes money for him." + +The hill billy's words made Imogene more uneasy than before. And yet +looking at the lank, droll fellow sitting there in the starlight, she +again smiled, and sighed. + +"Well, I'm mighty glad Mr. Rogeen has you for a friend," she said aloud. + +"A friend," observed Noah, "is sorter like a gun--expensive in town but +comfortin' in the country. + +"But really I ain't no good, Miss Chandler. As I used to say to my +dad, 'if the Lord made me, he must have done it sort of absent +mindedly, for he ain't never found no place for me.'" + +Imogene arose. She knew this big-hearted, rough hill billy must be +tired. She went over and laid her hand lightly on his shoulder and +said with a solemn tightening of the throat--"Noah, you are the salt of +the earth--and I'd rather have you for a friend than a diamond king." + +Noah arose, emotion always made him uncomfortable, and shuffled off to +his tent without a word. + +But he turned at the entrance to the tent, and looked back. The girl +sat quite still, her face turned up toward the stars. + +"Well," said Noah to himself, "she's got me all right." + +On the fourteenth of June Bob Rogeen and Noah Ezekiel Foster rode +through the Red Butte Ranch. + +The fields lay before them checkered off into squares by the irrigation +ditches, level as a table. The long rows of cotton were five to ten +inches high, and of a dark green colour. The stand on most of the +fields was almost perfect. One Chinaman with a span of mules +cultivated fifty acres. + +"Lou Wing is a great farmer," continued Bob, enthusiastically. "He is +doing the work for 45 per cent. of the crop. I pay the water and the +rent; and of course I have to advance him the money to feed and pay his +hands. He has twenty partners with a separate camp for each; and each +partner has four Chinamen working for him. That is system, Noah. It +certainly looks like riches, doesn't it?" + +"All flesh is grass," Noah sighed lugubriously, "except some that's +weeds." + +"Cotton is going up every day," said Bob. "It was nine cents and a +fraction yesterday." + +"That means," remarked Noah Ezekiel, "Reedy Jenkins could sell them +eight thousand bales he's got stacked up on this side and pay all his +debts and have twenty thousand over." + +"But Reedy is not paying his debts." + +"Not yet," said Noah; "he is borrowin' more money." + +"Is that so?" Bob was sharply interested. He had not feared Reedy +much while he was out of funds. "When did you hear that?" + +"Saturday night," replied Noah. "You can gather a whole lot more +information round the Red Owl than you can moss." + +"I wonder what he is going to do with it?" Bob's mind was still on +Reedy Jenkins. + +"He's done done with it," answered Noah. "He's bought the Dillenbeck +irrigation system." + +Instantly all exuberant desire to shout went from Bob's throat and a +chill ran along his veins. In a twinkling the heat of the friendly sun +upon those wide green fields with their fingered network of a hundred +water ditches became a threat and a menace. After all, by what a +narrow thread does security hang! + +Bob walked as one on a precipice during the following weeks. Never was +a man more torn between hope and fear. On the one hand, the cotton +grew amazingly. Fed by the nourishment stored in that soil which had +lain dormant for thousands of years, watered by the full sluices from +the Colorado River and warmed like a hotbed by the floods of sunshine +day after day, the stalks climbed and climbed and branched until they +looked more like green bushes than frail plants. Bob rode the fields +all day long, even when the thermometer crept up to 127 in the shade, +and a skillet left in the sun would fry bacon and eggs perfectly done +in seven minutes. Often he continued to ride until far into the night, +watching the chopping of the weeds, watching the men in the fields, and +most of all watching the watering. Yes, the crop was advancing with a +promise almost staggering in its richness. It looked now as though +some of these fields would go to a bale and a half an acre. And slowly +but surely the price of cotton had climbed since March, a quarter of a +cent one day, a half the next, a jump of a whole cent one Friday; and +now on the second day of August it touched 10.37. With a bale to the +acre at that price Bob could add $30,000 to his estimated expense and +still clear a hundred thousand dollars on this crop. When he thought +of it as he rode along the water ditches in the early evening, he grew +fairly dizzy with hope. But then on the other side: the unformed +menace--Reedy Jenkins owned the water system! + +The fear had taken tangible shape when he got his water bill for June. +But there was no raise in price. Again yesterday, the bill for July +came, and still no raise in price. + +It was ten o'clock that night when he got into Calexico and went to the +hotel. + +As the clerk gave him the key to his room, he also handed him a letter, +saying: + +"A special delivery that came for you an hour ago; I signed for it." + +Bob's fingers shook slightly as he took it. Glancing swiftly at the +corner of the envelope he read: + + DILLENBECK WATER CO. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +Reedy Jenkins, the first night of August, sat in his office, the +windows open, the door open, the neck of his soft shirt open, and his +low shoes kicked off. But his plump, pink face was freshly shaven and +massaged and he wore two-dollar silk socks. Even in dishabille Reedy +had an air of ready money. + +There had been dark days last fall when he had been so closely cornered +by his creditors that it took many a writhe and a wriggle to get +through. Nobody but himself, unless it was the dour Tom Barton, knew +how overwhelmingly he was bankrupt. + +But Reedy had kept up an affable front to all his creditors and a ready +explanation. "We are all broke, everybody in same boat. Why sweat +over it? Of course I've got some cotton across the line; we'll just +leave it there and save the duty until it'll sell. Then I'll pay out." + +He kept up this reassurance until cotton began to sell, and then he +postponed: + +"Wait; we are all easier now. Got enough so I can cash in any day and +have plenty to pay all bills. But just wait until it goes a little +higher." + +And when it had gone to eight cents, eight and a half, and at last +nine, his creditors had ceased to worry him. Now that Reedy could sell +out any day and liquidate, and still be worth a hundred thousand or +more, there was no hurry to collect. Nobody wants to push a man who +can pay his debts any hour. Some of them even began to lend him more +money. He had borrowed $25,000 as a first payment on the $200,000 for +the Dillenbeck water system. + +To-night Reedy had a list of figures before him again. Cotton had +touched 9.76 to-day. Things were coming to a head. It was time to act. + +Reedy had one set of figures in which 8,000 bales were multiplied by +fifty and a fraction. It added $474,000. There was a column of +smaller sums, the largest of which was, Revenue $28,000. These smaller +sums were totalled and subtracted from $474,000, leaving $365,000--a +sum over which Reedy moistened his lips. Then he multiplied 15,000 +acres by something and set that sum also under the $365,000 and added +again. The total made him roll his pencil between his two plump hands. + +Madrigal, the Mexican Jew, entered with a jaunty gesture, and took a +chair and lighted a cigarette. + +"When did you get back from Guaymas?" Reedy leaned back, lighted a +match on the bottom of his chair and touched it to a plump cigar. + +"Yesterday, Señor Reedy." There was always a mixture of aggressiveness +and mocking freshness in Madrigal's tone and air. + +"See Bondeberg?" + +The Mexican nodded. + +"Everything all right?" + +"_Si, si._" Madrigal sometimes was American and sometimes Mexican. + +"I've had a dickens of a time getting trucks," said Reedy, speaking in +a low, casual tone. "But I got 'em--twenty. Be unloaded to-morrow or +the next day. I've arranged to take care of the duty. They are to be +sold, you understand, with an actual bill of sale to each of the twenty +Mexican chauffeurs you have employed." + +Madrigal nodded lightly as though all of this was primer work for him. + +"Have everything ready by the tenth. I think I can close up this water +deal by that time." + +As the Mexican left, Reedy reached for his telephone and called El +Centro. + +"Mrs. Barnett?" Soft oiliness oozed from his voice. "This is Reedy. +What are you doing this evening? Nothing? How would you like a little +spin out to the foot of the mountains to get a cool breath and watch +the moon rise?--All right. I'll be along in about thirty minutes. By, +by." The words sounded almost like kisses. + +"Mrs. Barnett"--Reedy slowed down the machine as they drove off across +the desert toward the foothills--"I owe everything to you." + +The widow, all in white now--very light, cool white--felt a little +shivery thrill of pride go over her. She half simpered and tried to +sound deprecating. + +"Oh, you merely flatter me." She was rolling a small dainty +handkerchief in her palms. + +"No, indeed!" responded Reedy, roundly. "No one can estimate the +influence of a good woman on a man's life." + +"I'm so glad"--the shivery thrill got to her throat--"if I've really +helped you--Reedy." It was the first time she had used his given name, +although he had often urged it. + +"You know," he continued, "in spite of the great opportunities for +wealth here, I do not believe that I could have endured this valley if +it had not been for you. You can't imagine what it means to a man, +after the disagreeable hurly-burly of the day's business, to know there +is a pure, sweet, womanly woman waiting for him on the porch." + +Mrs. Barnett gulped, filled with emotion. "I do believe," she almost +gushed, "men like the shy, womanly woman who keeps her place best after +all." + +"They certainly do!" + +"I don't see," mused Mrs. Barnett, "how a man really _could_ care for a +woman who becomes so--so--well, rough and sunburned, and coarsened by +sordid work--like that Chandler woman, for instance. I mean, I don't +see how any _good_ man could care for that sort." + +"Nor I," said Reedy, emphatically. He steered with one hand, and got +both of her hands in the other. + +"This year is going to be a great one for me. Cotton is already over +ten cents. I'll need only $25,000 more, and then I can clean up a +fortune for all of us." + +Mrs. Barnett, still thrilling to that hand pressure, moved a little +uneasily. + +"Uncle Jim has been right hard to manage for the last two times. He +was real ugly about that last $40,000. I had to remind him how much my +poor mother did for him and how little he had done for us before he +would listen to me." + +No wonder the widow quaked within her at the honour of being elected to +do it all over again. It was not because she hesitated to attempt it +for so noble a man; but for the moment she was desperate for a way to +go at it. She had used in the last effort every "womanly" device known +to conservative tradition for separating a man from his money. But she +hesitated only a moment. A watery heart and a dry eye never won a fat +loan. Undoubtedly her womanly intuition--or Providence--would show her +a way. + +"I'll do my best, Mr. Jenkins"--she lapsed into the formal again--"to +get the loan for you. But Uncle is getting right obstinate." + +"That's all right, little girl," he patted her hands. "I trust you to +do it, you could move the heart of Gibraltar. And as I've promised you +all the time, when I close up these deals I'm going to give you +personally $25,000 of the profits in appreciation of your assistance. +And that is not all"--he squeezed both the widow's hands a moment, then +released them as if by terrific resolution--"but more of that later. +We must close up this prosaic business first." + +The next morning at ten o'clock Jim Crill stamped up the outside +stairway, stamped through the open door and threw a check for $25,000 +on Reedy's desk. + +"That's the last," the old gentleman snapped with finality. "And I +want to begin to see some payments mighty quick." + +Reedy smiled as the old gentleman stamped back down the stairs, proud +of his own ability as a "worker." And he was not without admiration +for Mrs. Barnett's ability in that line. It would be interesting to +know how she had done it so quickly. + +"If the old man knew," Reedy picked up the check and grinned at the +crabbed signature, "what this is going for, he'd drop dead with +apoplexy at the foot of the stairs." + +He reached for the telephone and called the freight agent: + +"Are those motor trucks in yet? Good! We'll have them unloaded at +once." + +There are two ways to make a lot of money perfectly honestly: One is to +produce much at a time when the product legitimately has such a high +value that it shows a good profit. The other is to plan, invent, or +organize so as to help a great many men save a little more, or earn a +little more, and share the little with each of the many benefited. And +there are two ways to get money wrongfully: One is by criminal +dishonesty--taking under some of the multiple forms of theft what does +not at all belong to one. The other is by moral dishonesty--forcing or +aggravating acute needs, and taking an unfair advantage of them, +blackmailing a man by his critical wants. + +Reedy Jenkins had merely intended to be the latter. He had not planned +to produce anything, nor yet to help other men produce, but to farm +other men's needs--get hold of something so necessary for their success +that it would force tribute from them. He planned to hold a hammer +over the weakest link in others' financial deals and threaten to break +it unless they paid him double for the hammer. + +Reedy indorsed Jim Crill's check, and stuck it in his vest pocket. He +liked to go into a bank and carelessly pull $25,000 checks out of his +vest pocket. Then he took from a drawer twenty letters already typed, +signed them, and put them into envelopes addressed to the ranchers who +bought water of the Dillenbeck Water Co. + +"Now"--Reedy moistened his lips and nodded his head--"we are all set." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +Bob tore the letter open with one rip, and read it with his back to the +desk: + + +DEAR SIR: + +We regret to say that dredging and other immediate repairs on our canal +make a rather heavy assessment imperative. The work must be done at +once, and the company's funds are entirely exhausted. Your assessment +is $10 an acre; and this must be paid before we can serve you with any +more water. + +Very truly, + DILLENBECK WATER Co., + Per R. Jenkins, Pres. & Mgr. + + +Ten dollars an acre! Fifty thousand dollars! Bob walked slowly out of +the hotel. There was no use to go up to his room. No sleep to-night. + +Jenkins' plot was clear now. He had merely been waiting for the most +critical time. The next two waterings were the most vital of the whole +season. The little squares that form the boll were taking shape. If +the cotton did not get water at this time the bolls would fall off +instead of setting. + +Bob walked down the street, on through to the Mexican section of town, +thinking. He must do something, but what? + +It was a sweltering night and people were mostly outdoors. Under the +vines in front of a small Mexican house a man played a guitar and a +woman hummed an accompaniment. Across the street a little Holiness +Mission was holding prayer meeting, and through the open windows an +organ and twenty voices wailed out a religious tune. + +Bob turned and walked back rapidly, and crossed the Mexican line. At +the Red Owl he might hear something. + +It was so hot that even the gamblers were listless to-night. The only +stir of excitement was round one roulette wheel. Bob started toward +the group, and saw the centre of it was Reedy Jenkins with his hat +tipped back, shirt open at the throat, sleeves rolled to elbows, +playing stacks of silver dollars on the "thirty." + +Bob leaned against one of the idle tables and talked with the game +keeper, a pleasant, friendly young chap. + +"Wonder what the Mexicans are going to do with so many motor trucks?" +the gamester asked casually. + +"Motor trucks?" Bob repeated. + +"Yes, they unloaded a whole string of them over here to-day. One of +the boys said he counted twenty." + +As Bob left the gambling hall Reedy was still playing the roulette +wheel at twenty dollars a throw. + +Rogeen got his car and started south. He would see for himself if +there was any basis for Jenkins' claim that immediate work must be done +on the water system. It was late and there were no lights at any of +the little ranch shacks over the fields. + +Chandler's place was dark like the rest. They were sleeping. Their +notice would not come until to-morrow or next day. He would not wake +them. Anyway to-night he had forgotten his fiddle, but he grimly +remembered his gun. + +He drove through the Red Butte Ranch without stopping. He could +scarcely bear even to look to the right or left at those long rich rows +of dark green cotton. + +Turning off the main road south toward the Dillenbeck canal, something +unusual stirred in Bob's consciousness. At first he could not think +what was the matter; but directly he got it--the car was running +differently. This road across a patch of the desert was usually so +bumpy one had to hold himself down. To-night the car ran smoothly. +The road had been worked--was being worked now--for a quarter of a mile +ahead he heard an engine and made out some sort of road-dragging outfit. + +The simplest way in the world to make a road across a sandy desert, or +to work one that has been used, is to take two telephone poles, fasten +them the same distance apart as automobile wheels, hitch on an engine, +and drag them lengthwise along the road. This not only grinds down the +uneven bumps but packs the sand into a smooth, firm bed for the +machine's wheels. + +That was what they were doing here. Bob stayed back and watched. He +did not want to overtake them. The road-breaking outfit crossed the +canal directly and headed south by east off into the desert. Bob +stopped his machine on the plank bridge, and watched them pull away +into the night. Then he gave a long, speculative whistle. + +"I wonder," he said, "what philanthropist is abroad in the land at one +o'clock in the morning?" + +Rogeen left his machine and followed on foot along the bank of the +canal for two miles. The water was flowing freely. There was no sign +of immediate need for dredging. Some of the small ranches were getting +water to-night. He was glad of that. The Red Butte had finished +watering its five-thousand-acre crop a week ago. It would be three +days before they would need to begin again. + +He went back to his machine and drove clear up to the intake from the +Valley Irrigation Company's canal. The water was running smoothly all +the way. The ditches seemed open, and in fair shape. Some work was +needed of course every day; but there was no call for any quick, +expensive repairs. + +[Illustration: "Make it plain to the Chandler girl that this is her +last chance to sell before I ruin her crop."] + +No, Jenkins' call for money was purely for himself and not the water +system. The whole thing was robbery. But how could it be prevented? +Injunctions by American courts did not extend over here, and Reedy +undoubtedly had an understanding with the Mexican authorities. + +There was nothing for it, thought Bob, but to choose one of two evils: +Be robbed of $50,000, or lose five thousand acres of cotton. He set +his teeth and started the little car plugging back across the sand +toward the American line. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +A little after daylight Bob was in El Centro. Jim Crill, always an +early riser, was on the porch reading the morning paper. + +"Come and have breakfast with me," Bob called from the machine. "Got +some things to talk over." + +He handed Crill the letter from the water company. Not a muscle in the +old gentleman's face changed as he read, but two spots of red showed at +the points of his sharp cheekbones. + +"If it was your own money in that crop, what would you do?" asked Jim +Crill, shortly. + +"I'd fight him to hell and back." Bob's eyes smoldered. + +"Then fight him to hell and back," said the old man, shortly. "And if +you don't get back, I'll put up a tombstone for you. + +"I've believed all along," said Jim Crill, "that Reedy Jenkins is a +rascal. But," he lifted his left eyebrow significantly, "womenfolks +don't always see things as we do. Anyway, my trust was in cotton--it +is honest--and sooner or later I'll get his cotton. He's got to bring +it across the line to sell it. + +"I've taken up all the other liens on that cotton," Crill continued, +"so there'll be no conflicting claims. I've got $215,000 against those +eight thousand bales." + +He took a bill book from his hip pocket, and removed some papers. + +"I was coming over to see you this morning. Been called away. Trouble +in our Texas oil field. Main gusher stopped. May be a pauper instead +of a millionaire. Would have got out of this damned heat before now if +I hadn't wanted to keep an eye on Jenkins. + +"Now I'm going to turn these bills over to you for collection. Get +$215,000 with 10 per cent. interest, and half his cotton seed." + +Bob's eyes were straight ahead on the road as he drove back to +Calexico; his hands held the wheel with a steady grip, but his mind was +neither on the road nor on the machine. + +"Well," he smiled to himself, grimly, "at any rate, I'm accumulating a +good deal of business to transact with Reedy Jenkins. I suppose first +move is a personal interview with him." + +Bob stopped the machine in the side street and went up the outside +stairway of the red brick building, with purpose in his steps. But the +door of the office was closed, a notice tacked on it. Bob stepped +forward and read it eagerly: + + +"Mr. Jenkins' office is temporarily removed to the main building of the +Mexican Cotton Ginning Co." + + +"And so," said Bob as he went down the stairs, "Reedy has moved across +the line." That was puzzling, and not at all reassuring. + +Rogeen did not go to the cotton gin to see Reedy. He wanted first to +find out what the move meant. For two days he was on the road eighteen +hours a day, most of the time on the Mexican side, gathering up the +threads of Jenkins' plot. The other ranchers by this time had all +received their notices, and there was murder in some of their eyes. +But most of them were Americans, the rest Chinamen, and neither wanted +any trouble on that side. + +"Jenkins has a stand-in, damn him," said Black Ben, one of the +ranchers. "I'd like to plug him, but I don't want to get into a +Mexican jail." + +The second evening he met Noah Ezekiel at the entrance of the Red Owl. +Bob had instructed Noah and Lou Wing to continue the work in the cotton +fields exactly as though nothing impended. + +"I was just lookin' for you," said Noah a little sheepishly. + +"All right," responded Bob. "You've found me. What is on your mind?" + +"Let us go a little apart from these sons of Belial," said Noah, +sauntering past the Owl into the shadows. + +"I picked up a fellow down by the Red Butte today," began Noah, "that +had been on one of these here walkin' tours--the kind you take when +your money gives out. After he'd stuffed himself with pottage and +Chinese greens, and fried bacon, and a few other things round the camp, +he got right talkative. He says they've broke a good road through the +sand straight from Red Butte to the head of the Gulf of California. +And that there is a little ship down there from Guaymas lying round +waiting for something to happen." + +"Noah"--Bob gripped Ezekiel's arm--"I've been working on that very +theory. Your news clinches it. Reedy is never going to take that +cotton across the American line. He is planning to shoot it down +across that eighty-five miles of desert to the Gulf on motor trucks, +ship it to Guaymas, and sell it there to an exporter. He is not even +going to pay poor old Ah Sing for picking it; and as a final get-away +stake he is trying to hold us up for $150,000 on the water. He has +moved across the line for safety, and never intends to move back." + +"He won't need to," said Noah Ezekiel. "He is due to get away with +about half a million. But what do we care?" Noah shook his head +solemnly. "As my dad used to say, 'Virtue is its own reward.' That +ought to comfort you, Brother Rogeen, when you are working out that +$78,000 of debts at forty dollars a month." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +Early next morning Bob went to the executive offices, and waited two +hours for the arrival of the governor. Rogeen knew of course that +Madrigal, the Mexican Jew, was engineering the Mexican end of the +conspiracy; but he wanted to discover who the Mexican official was from +whom they were securing protection. + +Bob stated his business briefly, forcibly. He was one of the ranchers +who got water from the Dillenbeck canal. The company was endeavouring +to rob them. The ranchers wanted protection, and wanted water at once. +The official was very courteous, solicitous, sympathetic. He would +look into it immediately. Would Señor Rogeen call again tomorrow? + +Señor Rogeen would most certainly call again tomorrow. When he left +the office he went direct to Ah Sing's ranch. + +"Ah Sing," said Bob, "I want you to turn over to me your $80,000 claim +against Reedy Jenkins for picking his eight thousand bales of cotton, +and give me power of attorney to collect it." + +"Allee light, I give him." + +The next morning when the Mexican official came down to the office at +ten o'clock he assured Bob most regretfully that although impetuous and +violent efforts had been made to right his wrongs, unfortunately so far +they had found no law governing the case. The Dillenbeck Company was a +private water company, owned by American citizens; the Mexican +officials had no power to fix the rate. + +Bob went direct to the Mexican cotton gin. + +"Jenkins"--Bob sat down on the edge of the offered chair, his feet on +the floor, his knees bent as though ready to spring up--"I need to +begin watering the Red Butte to-day, but your man tells me he has +orders to keep the gates shut." + +Reedy nodded, his plump lips shut tight, an amused leer in the tail of +his eye. "You got my notice, didn't you? No cash, no water. Either +ten dollars an acre spot cash or no spot cotton." + +"Jenkins"--Bob's fingers were clutching his own knees as though holding +themselves off the rascal's throat--"that is the dirtiest steal I ever +knew." + +"That is not near what the water is really worth to you," said Reedy, +nonchalantly. "It is only about 20 per cent. of what your crop will +make--if it does not burn up." + +The knots in Bob's arms flattened out, and his tone took on casualness +again. + +"Jenkins, I've got a couple of little bills against you that I'm +authorized to collect. One on the American side is a trifle of +$215,000 which you owe Mr. Crill; the other on this side is for $80,000 +that you owe Ah Sing. Do you wish to take care of them now? Or shall +I attach your cotton?" + +Reedy's pink face and wide mouth took on a grin that fairly oozed +amusement. "Attach my cotton, by all means." + +Bob got up, hesitated a second, sat down again, and took out his check +book. As his pen scratched for a moment, the grin on Reedy's face +changed to one of victorious greed. Rogeen tore out the check and +handed it to Reedy. + +"There is $1,600. Turn water on the Chandler ranch. As for mine, you +can be damned." + +Reedy toyed idly with the check a moment, slowly tore it up, and threw +it in the wastebasket. + +"I'm sorry, but I can't get water to the Chandler ranch without the +rest order it, too. Perhaps"--he again took on a leer--"if Miss +Chandler should come in and see me personally, something might be +arranged." + +"Jenkins"--the coolest, most concentrated anger of his life was in +Bob's tone--"I know your whole plot. You can't get away with it. You +may ruin my cotton, probably will, but I'm going to smash you and sell +the pieces to pay your debts." + +Reedy got to his feet, and flushed hotly. The threat had gone home. + +"There are six hundred Mexican soldiers and policemen that will answer +my call. You won't make a move they don't see. + +"Don't bank on any threat about the United States Government. Mexicans +have been picking off Americans whenever they got ready for the last +three years; and nothing ever happens. They aren't one bit scared of +the American Government. + +"Don't fool yourself, Rogeen; you are outclassed this time. I know +what I'm doing, and I'm going to do it. If you don't want to rot in a +Mexican jail or bleach on the sands somewhere, you'll walk softly and +stay on the other side." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +When Bob left the Mexican cotton gin after the interview with Reedy +Jenkins he had the feeling of furious futility which many a brave man +has felt under similar circumstances. Yonder, two hundred yards away, +he could see American soldiers patrolling the border; yet so little +influence and so little fear did that big benign government wield over +here that he knew that scoundrel and his villainous Mexican +confederates could ruin his fields, throw him in jail and, even as +Reedy threatened, bleach his bones on the sand, and no help come from +over there--not in time to save him. + +And yet there must be ways. There were other Mexican officials than +the thieving one that Reedy had bribed to protect his movements and +robberies. There were some fair Mexicans; and there were others, even +if unfair, on whom the pressure of self-interest could surely be +brought to bear. + +It was unfortunate, Bob reflected, that Jim Crill had bought up all the +debts against Jenkins' cotton. If these debts had been left scattered +among the banks and stores and implement dealers, there would have been +some influential coöperation in his effort to get action from the +Mexican officials. + +Bob went across the line and filed a long telegram to the State +Department at Washington outlining the situation and asking for +assistance. Then he caught the train for Los Angeles, where he had +learned the American consul at the nearest Mexican port, whom he knew, +was on a vacation. + +The consul was very indignant at the treatment Rogeen was receiving and +promised to investigate. + +"Investigate!" Bob ran his fingers through his thick, sweaty hair, and +unconsciously gave it a jerk. "But, man, I need water right now! It's +the most critical time of the whole crop. Every day of delay means a +loss of ten, fifteen, twenty thousand dollars." + +"I know," said the consul; "but don't you see no officer can act merely +on the word of one man. We have to get evidence and forward it to the +department. If only I had the authority to act on my own initiative, I +could bring them to time in twenty-four hours." + +"If you wired to the department for authority," suggested Bob, +"couldn't you get it?" + +The consul shook his head doubtfully. He really was impressed by Bob's +desperate situation. "I'll try it, and I'll be down to-morrow to see +what I can do." + +Bob returned to Calexico with a little hope--not much but a little. +Anyway, he was anxious to see the department's reply to his own appeal. +But it had not replied. The Western Union operator was almost insulted +that Bob should imagine there was a message there for him. + +Bob wrote another appeal, a little longer, and if possible more urgent, +and fired that into Washington. + +The consul came the following day. He interviewed the other ranchers +and verified Bob's statements. He took affidavits, and made up quite a +bulky report and dispatched it by mail to Washington. In the meantime +he wired, briefly outlining the substance of his letter, and asked for +temporary authority to take measures that would force the Mexican +officials to act. + +Bob was fairly hopeful over this. He waited anxiously for twenty-four +hours for some answer. None came. This was the third day since his +cotton began to need water. The thermometer went to 131 at two +o'clock. No green plant could survive long without water. + +He rode all day enlisting the coöperation of influential men in the +valley on the American side, and got several of them to send wires to +Washington. Every night when he returned to Calexico he went eagerly +to the telegraph office; but each time the operator emphatically shook +his head. Then Bob laboured over another long telegram, begging for +haste; he paid nine dollars and forty cents toll and urged that the +message be rushed. + +By the fifth day Rogeen was getting desperate. He returned to Calexico +at seven o'clock, jumped out of his car, and hurried into the telegraph +office. + +A message! A telegram for him at last! He had got action. Maybe even +yet he could save most of his crop. The message was collect--$1.62. +He dropped two silver dollars on the counter and without noticing the +change tore open the message. It was from the department at Washington +and was brief: + + +DEAR SIR: + +If you file your complaints in writing, they will be referred to the +proper department for consideration. + +R. P. M., _Ass't to Sec. of State._ + + +Then Bob gave up, turned about gloomily, and went out to his machine, +and started south toward the Chandler ranch. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +As the sun, like a burnished lid to some hotter caldron, slid down +behind the yellow sandhills that rimmed the desert, Imogene Chandler +felt as though she must scream. She would have made some wild outcry +of relief if it had not been for her father, who still sat in the +doorway of the shack, as he had all day, gray and bent like a dusty, +wilted mullein stalk. + +It had been a terrible day--the hottest of the summer. And for a week +now the irrigation ditches had been dry. To-day the cotton leaves had +wilted; and the girl had looked away from the fields all afternoon. It +tortured her to see those rich green plants choking for water. + +The sun gone, and a little relief from the heat, she began to prepare +supper. + +[Illustration: "Shut off the water? Why all the cotton in the valley +will be withered in a day."] + +As she stirred flour for biscuits, Imogene was blaming herself for ever +bringing her father here. But it had looked so like the great +opportunity to escape from the fetters of dry rot and poverty. So near +were they to success, with the rising prices this crop would make them +a small fortune--five thousand, perhaps seven or eight thousand dollars +clear--if only it had water. But to see it burn day by day, and all +because of the greed of Reedy Jenkins! She had sent her father with +the tribute of sixteen hundred dollars to Jenkins, but he had refused +it. He could not turn on the water for so small a ranch. She knew he +was trying to force Bob Rogeen through her to submit to the robbery. + + +Imogene and her father were dully eating their supper when Bob's +machine stopped at the ranch. But the moment the light from the +swinging lantern over the table fell on his face, she knew it was +hopeless, and her mind leaped from her own trouble to his. + +"It all comes down to this"--they had not discussed the fight until the +little professor had gone to bed--"my backing must mean more to the +Mexican officials than Reedy Jenkins'. If I could only get Washington +to give the consul power to act, then we could apply pressure. +But"--he shrugged his shoulders fatalistically and looked moodily up at +the glittering stars--"you see how hopeless that is." + +She gave a jump that almost scared him, and grabbed his arm. Her face +was so close to his he could see the excitement in her eyes even +through the dusk. + +"I can help; it can be done!" + +She was electrically alive now. "Daddy was a classmate of the +President's and was an instructor under him before we came West. He +thinks a lot of daddy, but daddy would never use his friendship with +the President to get a job. He's got to use it now--for you--for all +of us! Write a personal telegram to the President--the sort that will +get immediate action--and I'll make daddy sign it." + +Bob was fairly white with excitement, and his hand shook as they sat +down at the board table under the lantern and carefully composed that +telegram. This was their one last hope, and it must get action. + +"There, that will do it," Imogene nodded sagely. They were sitting +side by side, their heads close together, studying the final draft of +the appeal. The night wind blew a strand of her hair against his face, +and for a moment he forgot the desert, forgot the fight, forgot the +telegram, and saw only her. Then he shook himself free from the spell. +He must save the girl and himself before he dared speak. + +Imogene roused up her father, and had him sign the message. And an +hour later by a combination of bribes, threats, and pleadings Bob got a +sleepy operator to reopen the telegraph office and speed the message to +Washington. + +At five o'clock the next day the reply came. Bob signed for it, and +his fingers shook as he tore it open. + + +DEAR THEO: + +State Department instructing consul by wire to take any action +necessary to protect American ranchers. + +W. + + +By eleven o'clock that night he got a message from the consul; and +thirty minutes later Bob was speeding toward Tia Juana, a hundred and +fifty miles west, to see the Mexican governor. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +Early next morning Rogeen got an interview with the executive of the +Mexican province, whom he had never met. The governor received him +most courteously and manifested both alert intelligence and a spirit of +fairness. During that long night ride Bob had thought out most +carefully his exact line of appeal. + +"Your Excellency," he said, earnestly, "wishes, of course, for the +fullest development of the Imperial Valley in Mexico. To that end the +ranchers must know they have full protection, not alone for their lives +as they now have, but also for their crops. They must know it is +profitable to farm in Mexico. I, myself, have five thousand acres of +cotton, which will pay in export duties alone perhaps $25,000. Next +year I wish to grow much more. Besides, I'm the agent for a very rich +man who lends hundreds of thousands of dollars to other ranchers in +your province. + +"But this can continue only if those who do business on your side of +the line obey the laws and pay their debts. Such men as Reedy Jenkins +must be compelled to deal honestly or get out." + +The governor agreed to what Rogeen said, and promised to take prompt +action. + +"But," insisted Bob, "to save us, it must be done quickly. Jenkins' +cotton must be seized and held for his debts, and the water turned into +the canals at once." + +This was also promised as soon as legal papers could be prepared. In +leaving the office Bob dropped the telegram from the consul, +accidentally. + +"It apparently will not be needed," he said to himself as he left the +office, "but it won't hurt to lose it." + +The telegram left in the office read: + + +Present your situation to the governor, and if immediate relief is not +given I'll close the border within twenty-four hours so tight that not +a man, a mule, nor a machine can cross it either way. + +LANIER, _Consul._ + + +Two hours later a secretary who spoke good English and a Mexican +captain appeared at the Chinese hotel where Bob was waiting. + +"We have here," the secretary presented Bob with two papers, "an +attachment for Señor Jenkins' cotton and an order that the water must +be turned into the canals at once, and at the old rate. El Capitan and +I will accompany you in the governor's own machine to see these orders +are obeyed." + +Rogeen requested that no message be sent to Mexicali regarding these +attachments, as that would give Reedy a chance to dodge. + +"Can we go back over the Mexican road, and come into the valley round +the Laguna Salada?" Bob asked. Reedy might already be rushing his +cotton on those trucks down to the waiting boat on the Gulf, and by +going this route they would intercept them. + +The road over the mountains was not completed, said the secretary, but +they could have another machine from the valley to meet them, and in +that machine make the circuit as proposed. + +At ten o'clock that night Rogeen, the captain, and the secretary left +the machine and the chauffeur at the top of the mountain grade, and +began the two-mile descent to the ancient bed of the sea--the desert +round the Laguna Salada. + +Bob's satisfaction at winning the governor was more than overbalanced +by the torturing fear that it would all be too late. He believed they +would be in time to stop Reedy from getting away with his four hundred +thousand dollars' worth of cotton. Jenkins would not start until he +had lost hope of getting that $150,000 from the ranchers for water. +But Bob feared he was already too late to save his own cotton and +Chandler's. + +The point on the mountain where they left the machine was almost a mile +high. The descent to the valley was by a steep and precarious trail. +The captain who was familiar with it took the lead. + +It was twelve-thirty when they reached the road at the bottom which led +to Mexicali. The machine was not there. + +"What do you suppose is the matter?" Bob's voice sounded surprisingly +cool but a little flat, even to himself. Although the hot winds struck +them here, his skin felt clammily cold. + +"He'll be here by and by." The secretary lighted a cigarette. He did +not share Bob's anxiety and felt no undue fret over a little delay. "I +telegraphed the _comandante_ to send driver and car here about +midnight. He'll be here before long," he reassured. For an hour Bob +walked back and forth peering at every turn far into the desert, +listening until his ears ached. But no sight of car, no sound of +puffing engine. Another hour passed, and another. His anxiety +increased until the delay seemed unbearable. + +They waited nine hours. At last they saw the black bug of a machine +crawling snortingly across the twenty-mile strip of sand between them +and the pass through the Cocopa Mountains. + +At nine-thirty the car arrived, a powerful machine of expensive make. +The chauffeur was a slender, yellowish young Mexican who delighted in +taking dangerous curves at fifty miles an hour and who savagely +thrilled at the terrific punishment his car could take and still go. + +Through the secretary Bob told him of the plan to skirt the Laguna +Salada and go south round the Cocopas instead of going through the +pass. This way they would follow the ancient bed of the Gulf of +California and forty miles south turn across the desert of the Lower +Colorado, thence northeastward until they struck the trail along the +river. By this route they could reach the Red Butte, the head of the +Dillenbeck canal, almost as quickly as through the pass and by +Mexicali, while at the same time they would follow for thirty miles up +the river trail down which Jenkins' trucks must pass on the way to the +head of the Gulf. + +"Do you think we can do it?" Bob asked the chauffeur. + +The chap lighted a cigarette, shrugged, and replied they could do any +damn thing. + +"Let's be doing it then," urged Bob, jumping into the luxurious car. + +The Laguna Salada is a dead lake made from the overflow of the Colorado +River and salted by the ancient bed of the sea. There is no vegetation +round it, no life upon it. Along the salty, sandy shore that glitters +in the sun there is no road, no broken trail. But the reckless +chauffeur hit the sand with the exultant fierceness of a bull fighter. +And at every lunge Bob clung to the iron bar overhead and devoutly +prayed that the machine would live through it. + +It did. At one o'clock they swung round the headlands into the main +desert--the worst of its size on the continent, the desert of the Lower +Colorado. + +As far as the eye could see stretched the dead waste, so dead that not +a mesquite bush, not a cactus, not a living thing grew or crawled or +flew. And upon it smote the sun so hot it seemed a flame, and over it +boiled a wind like the breath of a volcano. + +It staggered even the four men, used as they were to the heat of the +valley. But it was only forty miles to the river. + +"Pretty damn bad," the chauffeur muttered in Spanish, and shrugged. +Then he turned the nose of his machine northeast, and straight across +the hard-packed sand shot into the blistering desert. + +"Two miles, four miles, six----" Bob counted off, watching the +speedometer. Every mile took him nearer the road, the water gates--and +Reedy Jenkins. + +"Eight--nine----" he continued. Then a terrific roar; the machine +staggered; the chauffeur swore and applied the brakes. + +They all jumped out. It was the right hind tire--a hole blown through +it ten inches long. The chauffeur kicked it two or three times, +lighted a cigarette, and stood looking at the burst tire. Finally he +shrugged and glanced across the desert. The wind was blowing hard; +there was sand in it. He shrugged and sauntered round to the front of +the car, got out his jack and wrenches, took the wheel off, prowled +round a quarter of an hour, then lighted another cigarette, again stood +looking at the burst tire, and kicked it a few times as though trying +to make it wake up and mend itself. + +"What is the matter?" asked Bob. He had been afraid to ask. + +"He says," interpreted the secretary, "he has no inner tube. Forgot to +bring any." + +"Then he'll have to run on the rim," said Bob, desperately; "we've got +to get out of this." + +But the secretary nodded toward the radiator which roared as though +about to blow up. + +"Where is his water?" Rogeen felt more than the heat surging through +his head. + +The chauffeur sauntered round the car twice as though looking for it. + +"Says," explained the secretary, "he had a can but must have lost it." + +They tried running on the rim, without water and with the hot wind +blowing the same direction they were going. The machine lasted four +miles, and then quit in the middle of a sand drift, with the most +infernal finality in its death surge. + +Bob got out and looked at the stalled car hopelessly. The boiling wind +surged over the hot dust and smote him witheringly. The driven sand +almost suffocated him. It was twenty-five miles at least to the river, +twenty more to possible assistance. He looked at his watch--it was +five minutes after one. Six hours before the sun would set, and until +then walking would be suicide. + +He climbed back into the machine, and sank limply into the shaded +corner of the seat. Six hours of this--it would be torture; and there +would be one long night of walking to reach water; another day of +waiting for night--without food--and again a long, staggering walk +before they reached a human habitation. + +Two days and nights of delay--then it would be too late! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +There are times when torture of the body heals the suffering of the +mind, and times when mental agony blots out physical pain. But there +are other times when the two run together. It was so with Bob as they +toiled doggedly through that long night across the desert toward the +river. He kept his course by the North Star, and lost little distance +by getting off the compass. It was just daylight when they reached the +river. The stream was bank full--midsummer is high water for the +Colorado--and was very muddy. But its water was more beautiful than +jasper seas to those four men. + +After they had drunk and cooled themselves in it, they crawled under a +clump of willows beside the road to rest through the day. Bob had just +stretched out on his back and covered his face with a handkerchief, +ready to sleep, when a chuck-chuck and a grinding noise came down the +road. He was up instantly, and so were the three Mexicans. + +"A machine!" they exclaimed. Relief! They would not have to walk that +other twenty miles. + +The deep chug of the engine indicated a powerful machine pulling +heavily. It was coming rather slowly. The road was hidden by miles of +rank wild hemp; but directly the machine came round a curve. + +It was a motor truck loaded high with cotton bales! + +Bob's heart beat quick. They were in time to save at least part of it, +after all. + +The captain bristled. Here was work to do, authority to display. He +stepped into the middle of the road, put his hand on his gun, and gave +a ringing call to halt. + +The Mexican driver came to a sudden stop. He knew _el capitan_. And +whatever faults may be attributed to the governor of Baja California, +all admits he is a governor. When he speaks in person or by messenger +there is never any hesitancy about obedience. + +The captain read his orders to the chauffeur and commanded him to turn +round. The four climbed on, and the truck started back. + +The driver told them that only two trucks had gone on ahead; sixteen +were behind, with Señor Jenkins on the last, and each truck carried +twenty bales of cotton. + +They stopped the next truck when they met it, and then waited until all +seventeen were backed up the road. + +Reedy Jenkins leaped from the rear one, nervous and violent of temper, +swore, and hurried forward to see what was the trouble. To his +unutterable wrath he saw the end truck headed about. + +"What the hell! you damned greasers." But then he quit. Something was +wrong here. He strode forward angrily. + +"Rogeen, get off that truck and do it damn quick." + +"I'm getting off," said Bob. With a quick leap he landed in the road +and went straight for Reedy. The secretary and the captain followed. + +"I have a writ of attachment here," said Bob, bringing out the paper +issued by the governor, "for your cotton in favour of Ah Sing. I have +further orders from the governor to deliver the cotton to the compress +on the American side and sell it in the open market. + +"Captain," Bob turned to the officer, "order the drivers to turn back. +You ride on the front one with the driver, and I'll ride on the back +one with my kind friend Señor Jenkins." + + +That night after Bob Rogeen had left her with the telegram Imogene +Chandler was too wrought up to sleep. And the longer she thought of +it, the more determined she became to take action herself. She had +some faith that the telegram would bring results, but not much faith +that those results would come in time to save their crop. While Bob +was riding through the days and nights, fighting for them, she and the +other ranchers were doing nothing but watch their cotton burn for water. + +About eleven o'clock Imogene went to the corral and bridled and saddled +a horse. With the bridle reins in her left hand and her revolver in +her right, she galloped off north toward Rogeen's ranch to consult Noah +Ezekiel. + +A mile up the road she met Noah riding south. + +"What's the matter? Your dad not sick?" He was much astonished to see +her riding out at this time of night. + +"No," replied the girl, "it is our cotton that is sick. And I'm going +after a doctor. Noah, I want you to go with me and show me where those +water gates are. I'm going to have water or fight. They wouldn't +shoot a woman." + +"Oh, wouldn't they?" said Noah. "That shows how naturally scarce of +information you are. + +"No," said the hill billy determinedly but with a current of tenderness +in his tone, "you ain't goin' to the water gates; you are goin' back to +your ranch. You are just naturally sweet enough to gentle a horse, but +you ain't cut out to fight Mexicans." + +She had turned her horse round and was riding beside him back toward +her ranch. + +"Now, listen here," said Noah as he saw signs of rebellion in the swing +of her body and the grip on her revolver, "you go home and get your dad +and your Chinaman ready. There's goin' to be water in them ditches +before daylight or there will be one less hill billy in this vale of +tears." + +During these fervid days Noah Ezekiel had not been asleep, although +much of the time he looked as though he were on the verge of it. He +had had his eye on both ranches--the Chandlers' and the Red Butte. +Twice he had cautiously reconnoitred the full length of the water +ditches. + +At a point on the Valley Irrigation Company's big canal, about seven +miles below the intake from the Colorado River, two diverting ditches +branched off; the larger of these furnished the main water supply of +the Mexican side of the valley, the smaller was the Dillenbeck system. + +At these gates the Valley Company kept water keepers and guards day and +night. As the Dillenbeck Company were merely private consumers, water +was turned into this canal only on their orders, and charged for by the +thousand feet. + +Four miles below where this canal began to branch to the various +ranches it supplied was the Dillenbeck water station. It was the +keeper in charge here who ordered water from the main canal and who +opened the sluice gates and apportioned it to the various ranches. + +Noah Ezekiel on his reconnoitring discovered two things: The night +water keeper had been reënforced by a Mexican guard; and besides +Madrigal, the Mexican Jew, usually spent the night with these two. +Expecting trouble, a company of twenty Mexican special guards was +camped a quarter of a mile down the canal, in easy calling distance. +These guards, while authorized by the comandante, were hired and paid +by Reedy Jenkins. It was their duty to patrol the canal above and +below by the main water gates and be ready at all times to repulse any +threatened attack. + +Noah Ezekiel had been approached several times by infuriated ranchers +with suggestions that they organize a mob. But American ranchers were +too few and unpopular to make mobs highly hopeful. An attack on these +guards would bring on a conflict with the whole Mexican garrison at +Mexicali, consisting of several hundred well-trained troops. Noah +Ezekiel advised strongly against this. Noah was opposed to strife of +any kind. But he had been doing a little plotting of his own. + +He knew the Red Owl employed a number of boosters for the games--men +who went from table to table and gambled with the house's money. The +psychology of gambling is like the psychology of anything else--the +livelier the game the more there are who want to get into it. The job +of the booster is to stimulate business by gambling freely himself. +These boosters are paid four dollars a day; and the ordinary Mexican, +if given his choice between being secretary of state and a booster at +the Red Owl, would pick the Owl every time. + +After a reasonable wait to see if water was coming in by the due +process of law and growing doubtful about it, Noah Ezekiel had begun +carefully laying plans. + +That morning he had gone to the Red Owl and had a secret session with +Jack the Ace of Diamonds, one of the game keepers. Jack and the hill +billy had become good friends, and Jack was more than willing to +accommodate a friend. + +"Now, Ace," said Noah, "the idea is like this: This afternoon you send +a Mexican out to that camp on the Dillenbeck canal with the information +that the Owl wants to hire about eleven good boosters to begin work at +twelve o'clock to-night; and have the messenger casually but secretly +give each of them a slip of paper that is dead sure to get him one of +the jobs. + +"And," Noah grinned, "you give every one of 'em that applies a job for +two days--as a treat on me. You can fix it with the boss." + +"Sure," grinned Jack, "I'll fix it." And a Mexican messenger had been +dispatched on the spot. + +Noah sat at the ranch shack as dark came on and counted them as they +went by down the road. As he guessed, the officer would get away +first, and the rest begin to drop away from camp one or two at a time +soon after dark. By eleven o'clock he had counted seventeen: and then +Noah saddled his horse. When he had met Imogene, he had thought she +was another Mexican, but he was not alarmed at one or even three. + +A little before one o'clock Noah tied his horse to a cottonwood tree a +half mile below the Dillenbeck water gates. + +He skirted through the fields round the deserted guard camp. His +caution was not necessary, not a Mexican soldier was left. He grinned +to think of the boosters about now in the Red Owl. Two hundred yards +from the little open shack that served as office and home for the water +keeper Noah took off his shoes and left his hat, and slipped toward the +light. In his hands, muzzle forward, was the double-barrelled +shotgun--the riot gun sure to hit its mark at close range that Bob had +got for him with which to guard the Chandler ranch. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +Noah, bent low, slipped forward in utter silence--more silence than +necessary. The American water keeper, Madrigal, and the Mexican guard +were too profoundly busy with a crap game on the floor under the +lantern to be disturbed by the mere breaking of a twig. + +But all at once from out the night came a drawling voice: + +"Brethren, let's raise our hands." Three pairs of eyes leaped up from +the dice and looked into the muzzle of the most vicious shotgun they +had ever seen--not ten feet away. Six hands went up without a word. + +"Stand up," was the next drawling command. "Turn your backs." Noah +flung two small ropes at their feet. + +"You," he ordered Madrigal, "tie the Mex's hands behind him--and stand +him over by the wall." + +"Whitey," he ordered the water keeper when that was done, "tie the +Hebrew's hands and feet and set him down over by the wall, facing this +way. + +"Now," Noah again commanded the water keeper, "go to the telephone and +order the water turned in. Tell 'em we are dry--that all the trouble +is settled, and to shoot the water down banks full, right away, quick." + +The water keeper was shaking as though with the ague. He knew danger +when he saw it and he was perfectly sure he saw it. + +He went to the telephone and called the keeper at the Valley Irrigation +Company's office. As he started to speak Madrigal stirred on the floor +as though trying to get up. + +Still keeping the water keeper covered with the shotgun, Noah looked +round at Madrigal and drawled: + +"If I was you, Hebrew, I'd keep sayin' over that parable which reads: +'Once there was a Mexican who was shot in the stomach with half a pint +of buckshot; and in hell he lifted up his eyes and said, "Father +Abraham, send me a drop of water." And Father Abraham says, "Not a +drop. Ain't you the man that helped burn up the Imperial Valley? +Hell's too good for you, but it's all we've got."'" + +The telephone message was given. + +"It sounded all right," said Noah to the water keeper. "Sit down over +there and be comfortable, while we wait and see; and keep your eye on +the muzzle of the gun. It is the only way to keep it from smokin'." + +Forty minutes passed. Noah's eyes were on his prisoners, but his ears +kept listening. Fifty minutes, then he heard a loud woosh--almost a +roar. The water was coming! + +"Now let's go out and open up all gates," ordered Noah. The water +keeper obeyed. + +"For the time being," drawled Noah, "you can lie down out there in the +open beside the canal and take a nap. Shootin' craps has been sort of +hard on your nerves. I'll look after the water for a spell." + + +About nine o'clock at night Imogene Chandler came in from the cotton +field. + +Out there in the dim starlight stretched the long rows of cotton, +erect, green, luxuriant. The water had come in time. It had flowed +into their ditches at four o'clock the morning after Noah Ezekiel +passed. They had been ready for it. For three days it had flowed +abundantly, and all their fields were watered. + +Imogene lifted her face to the wind. She loved the desert again. And +yet there was restlessness in her movements; even in the stillness her +ears strained to catch some other sound than the soft rustle of the +wind. + +Nothing had happened to him of course or she would have heard. But she +had watched for him that first night after the water was turned in; the +next night she was expecting him, and last night she felt sure he would +come. If he did not come tonight---- Maybe something had happened, +maybe he had been shot by some of Jenkins' hired assassins? Fear, +which really had been hovering about for three days, but put off by her +faith in Bob's utter competence to take care of himself, swooped down +on her suddenly. Her throat grew dry, her heart beat like a frightened +bird's, she whirled and started to run for the house. She would start +in search at once. + +Then came the sound that her ears had been straining for--the chuck, +chuck of his little machine. + +She dropped down on the bench under the arrowwood shelter and let +herself go. But the sobs were over, her eyes dry, her lips smiling, as +he came across the yard in the dusk with a dark bulk under his arms. + +He had brought his fiddle. She did not stir from the bench. She felt +utterly, blissfully relaxed. Her arm lay loosely along the back of the +bench, her head dropped slightly forward, the wind still stirring her +hair. + +"Hello." That was her only greeting. But the tone of it went through +him like a soft breath of wind in the woods following a lull in the +storm. + +"Hello," and that was his only reply as he sat down on the bench beside +her, the fiddle across his knees. + +Her arm lying lazily along the back of the bench was almost touching +him; but he had not noticed it, and she left it there. + +"I don't hardly know where to begin," Bob said directly, and laughed to +try to cover up his emotions. He knew that no matter where he began he +never could put in words the horror of the night when the ghost of +utter defeat and failure walked with him over that terrible desert; nor +yet the great upsweep of triumph that engulfed him when he reached the +water gates the next day and learned that Noah Ezekiel and a +double-barrelled shotgun had saved the crops three days before--his and +all the rest. + +To feel one moment that he was in debt for life, beaten and wrecked, +and the next to know he would be worth in three months at least a +hundred thousand dollars! No, he could not put that in words; so he +merely twanged softly the violin strings with his thumb, and remarked +casually: + +"Well, I got the money." + +"What money?" Still the girl did not stir. She was so blissfully +lethargic, and she was not thinking at all of money or cotton. + +"For poor old Ah Sing, and for Jim Crill. I seized Reedy's cotton this +morning and sold it this afternoon. Got $410,000 for the cotton and +the seed. But Jenkins was in deeper than we knew. He's gambled away +fifty thousand or so. After I'd paid up all his debts, including the +duty, there was only $25,000 left for Reedy. And Mrs. Barnett came +down on me like a squawking hen, demanding that. Said Reedy had +promised it to her for getting the loans from her uncle. But Reedy +denied it." + +"What did you do?" asked Imogene as he paused. "I compromised--told +Reedy I was entitled to that much for commission and damages, but that +I'd give it to him provided he and Mrs. Barnett married. They did." + +Imogene laughed, a rich warm laugh in which there was no sting of +revenge, only humour for human faults. This was such a good world, and +such a beautiful desert! + +Bob did not think of anything more to tell of his exploits. Somehow +his mind would not stay on them. Instead, he looked up at the stars +and sighed with deep content, then put the fiddle to his shoulder and +raised the bow. + +When he finished he turned to look down at her, and in that moment felt +the touch of her arm at his back. She was very still; he was not sure +whether she was crying or smiling. + +"Do you know what it said?" he asked, huskily. + +"Y-e-s," she answered, softly, "but I want to hear it in words, too." + +He slipped his arm round her and drew her to him. "You wonderful +darling," he said, kissing her, "you'll hear it a million times in +words." + + + + +THE END + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Desert Fiddler, by William H. 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Hamby. +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: medium; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.letter {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.salutation {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.closing {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.footnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.transnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.index {font-size: small ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-top: 0% ; + margin-bottom: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.intro {font-size: medium ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.dedication {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 15%; + text-align: justify } + +P.published {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 15% } + +P.quote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.report {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.report2 {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.finis { text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +H3.h3left { margin-left: 0%; + margin-right: 1%; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: left ; + clear: left ; + text-align: center } + +H3.h3right { margin-left: 1%; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: right ; + clear: right ; + text-align: center } + +H3.h3center { margin-left: 0; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: none ; + clear: both ; + text-align: center } + +H4.h4left { margin-left: 0%; + margin-right: 1%; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: left ; + clear: left ; + text-align: center } + +H4.h4right { margin-left: 1%; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: right ; + clear: right ; + text-align: center } + +H4.h4center { margin-left: 0; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: none ; + clear: both ; + text-align: center } + +H5.h5left { margin-left: 0%; + margin-right: 1%; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: left ; + clear: left ; + text-align: center } + +H5.h5right { margin-left: 1%; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: right ; + clear: right ; + text-align: center } + +H5.h5center { margin-left: 0; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: none ; + clear: both ; + text-align: center } + +IMG.imgleft { float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-top: 1%; + margin-right: 1%; + padding: 0; + text-align: center } + +IMG.imgright {float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 1%; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-top: 1%; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center } + +IMG.imgcenter { margin-left: auto; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-top: 1%; + margin-right: auto; } + +.pagenum { position: absolute; + left: 1%; + font-size: 95%; + text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; } + +.sidenote { left: 0%; + font-size: 65%; + text-align: left; + text-indent: 0%; + width: 17%; + float: left; + clear: left; + padding-left: 0%; + padding-right: 2%; + padding-top: 2%; + padding-bottom: 2%; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; } + + + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Desert Fiddler, by William H. Hamby + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Desert Fiddler + +Author: William H. Hamby + +Release Date: July 3, 2008 [EBook #25960] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DESERT FIDDLER *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<A NAME="img-front"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-front.jpg" ALT="Charles Ray as Bob Rogeen, and Barbara Bedford as Imogene Chandler." BORDER="2" WIDTH="467" HEIGHT="671"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 500px"> +Charles Ray as Bob Rogeen, and Barbara Bedford as Imogene Chandler. +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +THE DESERT FIDDLER +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +WILLIAM H. HAMBY +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +PHOTOPLAY TITLE +</H2> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +PERCY +</H2> + +<BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ILLUSTRATED WITH SCENES<BR> +FROM THE PHOTOPLAY<BR> +A THOS. H. INCE PRODUCTION<BR> +RELEASED BY PATHÉ PICTURES<BR> +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +NEW YORK +<BR> +GROSSET & DUNLAP +<BR> +PUBLISHERS +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY +<BR> +CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY +<BR><BR> +COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY +<BR> +DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY +<BR><BR> +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED +<BR><BR> +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES +<BR> +AT +<BR> +THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y. +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<P> +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="100%"> +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="20%"> +<A HREF="#chap01">CHAPTER I</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="20%"> +<A HREF="#chap02">CHAPTER II</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="20%"> +<A HREF="#chap03">CHAPTER III</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="20%"> +<A HREF="#chap04">CHAPTER IV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="20%"> +<A HREF="#chap05">CHAPTER V</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">CHAPTER VI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">CHAPTER VII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">CHAPTER VIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">CHAPTER IX</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">CHAPTER X</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">CHAPTER XI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">CHAPTER XII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">CHAPTER XIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">CHAPTER XIV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">CHAPTER XV</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">CHAPTER XVI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">CHAPTER XVII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">CHAPTER XVIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">CHAPTER XIX</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">CHAPTER XX</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">CHAPTER XXI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap22">CHAPTER XXII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap23">CHAPTER XXIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap24">CHAPTER XXIV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap25">CHAPTER XXV</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap26">CHAPTER XXVI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap27">CHAPTER XXVII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap28">CHAPTER XXVIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap29">CHAPTER XXIX</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap30">CHAPTER XXX</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +ILLUSTRATIONS +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-front"> +Charles Ray as Bob Rogeen, and<BR> + Barbara Bedford as Imogene Chandler . . . . <I>Frontispiece</I> +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-028"> +Jenkins and Lolita awed by Percy's fiddling. +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-060"> +Lolita tries her wiles on Percy. +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-092"> +Reedy Jenkins makes a proposition to Imogene. +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-124"> +A mutual discovery—they both cared. +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-156"> +Holy Joe shanghaies Imogene's ranchmen and discovers<BR> + Percy—a willing ally. +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-188"> +"Make it plain to the Chandler girl that this is her<BR> + last chance to sell before I ruin her crop." +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-204"> +"Shut off the water? Why all the cotton in the valley<BR> + will be withered in a day." +</A> +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +THE DESERT FIDDLER +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<P> +Bob Rogeen slept in the east wing of the squat adobe house. About +midnight there was a vigorous and persistent shaking of the screen door. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" he called, sleepily. +</P> + +<P> +"They have just telephoned in from the Red Butte Ranch"—it was Dayton, +his employer, at the door—"the engine on that tractor has balked. +They want a man out there by daylight to fix it." +</P> + +<P> +Bob put up his arms and stretched, and replied yawningly: +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I guess I'm the fixer." +</P> + +<P> +"I guess you are," agreed the implement dealer. "You know the way, +don't you? Better ride the gray; and don't forget to take your gun." +The boss crossed the <I>patio</I> to his own wing of the house. +</P> + +<P> +</P> + +<P> +The young fellow sat up and kicked along under the edge of the bed, +feeling for his shoes. +</P> + +<P> +"A love—lee time to go to work," he growled, good-naturedly. "Here is +where the early bird catches the tractor—and the devil." +</P> + +<P> +When he came out of the door a few minutes later, buttoning his +corduroy coat—even in Imperial Valley, which knows no winter, one +needs a coat on a March night—Rogeen stood for a moment on the step +and put up his long arms again to stretch some of the deep sleep from +his muscles. He was not at all enthusiastic about odd jobs at +midnight; but in a moment his eyes fell on the slanting moonlight that +shone mistily on the chinaberry tree in the <I>patio</I>; the town on the +American side was fast asleep; the wind with the smell of sagebrush +stirred a clump of bamboo. The desert night had him—and when he rode +away toward the Mexican line he had forgotten his gun and taken his +fiddle. +</P> + +<P> +He passed through Mexicali, the Mexican town, where the saloons were +still open and the lights over the Red Owl, the great gambling hall, +winked with glittering sleeplessness; and out upon the road by the +irrigation canal, fringed with cottonwood and willows. +</P> + +<P> +He let the reins drop over the saddlehorn, and brought the fiddle round +in front of him. There was no hurry, he would be there before +daylight. And he laughed as he ran his right thumb over the strings: +</P> + +<P> +"What a combination—a fool, a fiddle, and a tractor." +</P> + +<P> +Bob could not explain what impulse had made him bring a fiddle with him +on the way to mend a balky gasoline engine. As a youth—they had +called him rather a wild youth—he had often ridden through the Ozark +hills at night time with his fiddle under his arm. But in the last +eight years he had played the thing only once, and that once had come +so near finishing him that he still carried the receipt of the +undertaker who came to bury him the next day. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, well," Bob grinned into the night as he threw his right knee over +the saddlehorn and put the fiddle to his shoulder, "we'll see how she +goes once more." +</P> + +<P> +For three miles he rode leisurely on, a striking figure in the dim +moonlight—a tall young man on a gray horse, fiddling wildly to the +desert night. +</P> + +<P> +He crossed the bridge over the main canal, left the fringe of +cottonwood and willow, and turned across the open toward the Red Butte +Ranch. The fiddle was under his arm. Then he saw a shack in the open +field to the right of the road. It was one of those temporary +structures of willow poles and arrow weed that serve for a house for +the renter on the Mexican side. The setting moon was at its back, and +the open doorway showed only as a darker splotch. He lifted the fiddle +again. "Chinaboy, Jap, Hindu, Poor Man, Rich Man, Beggar Man or +Mexican—I'll give you a serenade all the samee." +</P> + +<P> +The gleeful melody had scarcely jigged its way into the desert night +when, in the black splotch of the doorway, a figure appeared—a woman +in a white nightdress. Swiftly Bob changed the jig tune into a real +serenade, a clear, haunting, calling melody. The figure stood straight +and motionless in the dark doorway as long as he could see. Someway he +knew it was a white woman and that she was young. +</P> + +<P> +He put the fiddle back in the bag and turned in his saddle to mark the +location of the hut in his mind—there was a clump of eucalyptus trees +just north of it. Yes, he would know the place, and he would learn +tomorrow who lived there. That listening figure had caught his +imagination. +</P> + +<P> +But again he grinned into the night, ruefully this time as he +remembered the disaster that had followed his last two experiences with +this diabolical instrument of glee and grief. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, well," he shook his head determinedly and threw his leg across the +saddle, "the first time was with a preacher; the second with a gun; now +we'll give the lady a chance." +</P> + +<P> +The fiddle and the figure in the doorway had stirred in Bob a lot of +reflections. At twenty he had given up his music and most of the +careless fun that went with it, because a sudden jolt had made him see +that to win through he must fight and not fiddle. For eight years he +had worked tremendously hard at half a dozen jobs across half a dozen +states; and there had been plenty of fighting. But what had he won?—a +job as a hardware clerk at twenty dollars a week. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, well"—he had learned to give the Mexican shrug of the +shoulder—"twenty dollars in a land of opportunity is better than fifty +where everything is already fixed." +</P> + +<P> +That must be the Red Butte Ranch across yonder. He turned into the +left-hand fork of the road. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, there!" A tall, rambling fellow rose up from the side of the +road. "Are you the good Samaritan or merely one of the thieves?" +</P> + +<P> +"Neither," replied Bob, guessing this was a messenger from the Red +Butte, "but I work for both. Where is your balky tractor?" +</P> + +<P> +"This way." The rambling fellow turned to the right and started down +the road, talking over his left shoulder: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm the chauffeur of that blamed tractor—I told Old Benson I didn't +know any more about it than he does of the New Jerusalem; but he put me +at it anyhow. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm a willin' cuss. But the main trouble with me is I ain't got no +brains. If I had, I wouldn't be on this job, and if I was, I could fix +the darn thing myself. +</P> + +<P> +"My dad," continued the guide, "was purty strong on brains, but I +didn't take after him much. If I was as posted on tractors as the old +man was on hell fire, I wouldn't need you." +</P> + +<P> +Something in this hill billy's tone stirred in Bob a sudden +recollection. +</P> + +<P> +"Was he a preacher?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yep, named Foster, and I'm his wandering boy to-night." +</P> + +<P> +Bob lifted his head and laughed. It was a queer world. He inquired +about the trouble with the tractor. +</P> + +<P> +"I sure hope you can fix it," said Noah Ezekiel. "Old Benson will +swear bloody-murder if we don't get the cotton in before the tenth of +April. He wants to unload the lease." +</P> + +<P> +The sun was scarcely an hour high when the steady, energetic chuck, +chuck of the tractor engine told Bob his work was done. He shut it +off, and turned to Noah Ezekiel. +</P> + +<P> +"There you are—as good as new. And it is worth ten men and forty +mules. Not much like we used to farm back in the Ozarks, is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"We?" Noah Ezekiel rubbed his lean jaw and looked questioningly at the +fixer. "I'm from the Ozarks, but as the silk hat said to the ash can, +'Where in hell does the <I>we</I> come in?'" +</P> + +<P> +"You don't happen to remember me?" There was a humorous quirk at the +corner of Rogeen's mouth as he stood wiping the oil and grease from his +hands with a bunch of dry grass. +</P> + +<P> +The shambling hill billy took off his floppy-brimmed straw hat and +scratched his head as he studied Bob with the careless but always alert +blue eyes of the mountain-turkey hunter—eyes that never miss the turn +of a leaf nor forget a trail. +</P> + +<P> +Those eyes began at the feet, took in the straight waistline, the +well-knit shoulders. Bob weighed a hundred and eighty and looked as +though he were put together to stay. For a moment Noah Ezekiel studied +the friendly mouth, the resolute nose, the frank brown eyes; but not +until they concentrated on the tangled mop of dark hair did a light +dawn on the hill billy's face. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'll be durned!" The exclamation was deep and soul-satisfying, +and he held out his hand. "If you ain't Fiddlin' Bob Rogeen, I'll eat +my hat!" +</P> + +<P> +"Save your hat." Bob met the recognition with a friendly grin. +</P> + +<P> +"I never saw you but once," reflected Noah Ezekiel, "and that was the +Sunday at Mt. Pisgah when my dad lambasted you in his sermon for +fiddlin' for the dance Saturday night." +</P> + +<P> +"That sermon," Bob's smile was still a little rueful, "lost me the best +job I had ever had." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, well," consoled the hill billy, "if you hadn't lost it somethin' +might have fell on you. That's what I always think when I have to move +on." And he repeated with a nonchalant air a nonsensical hill parody: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<I>I eat when I'm hungry,<BR> +I drink when I'm dry,<BR> +And if a tree don't fall on me<BR> +I'll live till I die.</I><BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Then his eyes veered round to Bob's fiddle lying to one side on the +grass. +</P> + +<P> +"I notice," he grinned, "dad did not convert you." +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Bob, "but he cured me—almost. I've only played the thing +twice since." +</P> + +<P> +Rogeen picked up his fiddle and started for his horse. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, so long, Noah. You've got a nice place to work out here." His +eyes swept almost covetously over the five-thousand-acre ranch, level +as a floor, not a stump or a stone. "If I had this ranch I'd raise six +thousand bales of cotton a year, or know the reason why." +</P> + +<P> +"That ain't what the last fellow said," remarked the hill billy, +grinningly. "Reedy Jenkins was out yesterday figuring on buyin' the +lease; and he said: 'If I had it—I'd raise the rent.'" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<P> +Bob was out in front of the hardware store dressed in a woollen shirt +and overalls, and bareheaded, setting up a cotton planter, when an old +gentleman in a linen duster, who had been pacing restlessly up and down +the walk like a distant relative waiting for the funeral procession to +start, stopped on the sidewalk to watch him work. Whether it was the +young man's appearance, his whistling at his work or merely the way he +used his hands that attracted the old gentleman was not certain. But +after a moment he remarked in a crabbedly friendly tone: +</P> + +<P> +"Young man, you know your business." +</P> + +<P> +"The other fellow's business, you mean," replied Bob without looking up +from the bolt he was adjusting. "It is not mine, you know." Bob had +been repeating during the last two days the remark of the hill +billy—"I'm a willin' cuss, but I ain't got no brains." He had begun +to wonder if he was not in the same wagon. He had always thought he +had brains, but here he was at twenty-eight no better off than the hill +billy. Perhaps not as well, for Noah Ezekiel Foster was getting more +per month for riding one tractor than Bob was for selling twenty. +</P> + +<P> +The old gentleman made a noise in his throat that corresponded to a +chuckle in a less belligerent man. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you sell farm machinery over there?" The store faced the line; and +he nodded toward the Mexican side. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," answered Bob. +</P> + +<P> +"Know the country pretty well?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." The young man rose up with the wrench in his hand, and looked +for the first time into the gray-blue eyes under the bushy iron-gray +brows. "The country is the same as it is on this side. The people +somewhat different." +</P> + +<P> +"Any good chances to invest money over there?" asked the old gentleman. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose so." Bob stopped to pick up another nut and started to +screw it on. "I'm not bothered much hunting for investments. But I +reckon there is a chance for a man with money anywhere." +</P> + +<P> +"To spend it," added the other fellow, sharply. "Any place will do for +a fool and his money to part. But, young man, it is easier to earn +money with brains than it is to keep it without them." +</P> + +<P> +Bob's eyes looking past the old gentleman saw a youngish woman dressed +in widow's weeds—very expensive weeds—coming rapidly down the walk +from the hotel, and knew she was coming for the old man. As she came +nearer, Bob saw she had tawny yellow hair, with slate-coloured eyes and +a pious mouth. Her carriage was very erect, very ladylike, and +patently she was from the East. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Uncle," she gurgled and, as the old gentleman turned, with a +little burst of enthusiasm she threw her arms about his neck. +</P> + +<P> +"When did you get in, Evy?" The old gentleman managed to disengage the +arms without giving the appearance of heartlessness. His voice was +crabbed, but sounded as though it might be from the length of the vocal +cords rather than the shortness of disposition. +</P> + +<P> +"Last night." There was an aggrieved touch of self-denying complaint +in the tone. "And the little hotel is perfectly wretched. I had such +a horrid room—and I felt so conspicuous alone. The landlady told me +you had been there looking for me this morning before I was up. I'm so +glad to see you, Uncle; just as soon as I heard of poor Aunt Ellen's +death I felt that I must come and look after you at any sacrifice." +There was a slight pause in which the old gentleman did not venture a +remark. "But, Uncle"—there was accusation in the tone—"why did you +ever come out to this awful country? The dust was simply awful—I +think some of my clothes are ruined." +</P> + +<P> +"The old horse is across the street." The uncle turned and started +toward a very high-powered, expensive car. +</P> + +<P> +"Who was that old chap?" Bob asked of Dayton, who came up from +breakfast just as the car drove off. +</P> + +<P> +"That's Jim Crill—Texas oil fields. Staying at El Centro and looking +for a place to drop his money, I hear. But I wonder who's the lady? I +saw her get off the train with Reedy Jenkins yesterday evening." +</P> + +<P> +"A dear relative," remarked Bob with a grin, "come to take care of him +since his wife died—and he struck oil." +</P> + +<P> +After a moment—the planter finished—Bob asked casually: +</P> + +<P> +"Does Benson own the Red Butte Ranch?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," answered the implement dealer, "it belongs to the Dan Ryan tract. +Dan is one of the very few Americans who has a real title to land on +the Mexican side. When Benson leased it two years ago it was merely +sand hummocks and mesquite, like the rest of the desert. Spent a lot +of money levelling it and getting it ready to water. He lives at Los +Angeles, and is one of those fellows who try to farm with money instead +of brains and elbow grease. Lost a lot on last year's crop, and now he +wants to get rid of his lease." +</P> + +<P> +Bob had been thinking of that ranch most of the time since he fixed the +tractor. He loved the soil, and surely a man could get real returns +from a field like that. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder," he remarked without meeting his employer's eyes, "if he +would sublease it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't know," replied Dayton; "Reedy Jenkins is trying to buy the +lease." +</P> + +<P> +"Then," thought Bob as his employer went into the store, "Jenkins ought +to offer a market for farm machinery. I'll go up and see him." +</P> + +<P> +On his way to Jenkins' office Bob's mind was busy with his own personal +problems. He had been struggling with his ambitions a long time and +never could quite figure why he did not get on faster. He had thought +a great deal the last few days about Jim Crill, the old man with bushy +eyebrows—and oil wells. Two or three things the gruff old chap had +said stuck in Bob's mind. He had begun to wonder if it was not just as +easy for a fellow to make a bad investment of his brains and muscles as +it was with his money. "That's it," he said almost aloud at a definite +conclusion; "I haven't been making a good investment of myself. I +wonder if I could sublease that Red Butte Ranch?" +</P> + +<P> +The more he thought of it, the more anxious he was to get hold of +something he could manage himself. Of course, the idea of farming a +five-thousand-acre ranch without capital was merely a pipe dream; but +still, if Benson was losing money and wanted to get loose from his +lease—it might be possible. +</P> + +<P> +Reedy Jenkins' office was upstairs and on a back street. It had an +outside stairway, one of those affairs that cling to an outer brick +wall and end in a little iron platform. The only sign on the door was: +</P> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +REEDY JENKINS,<BR> +Cotton. +</H3> + +<BR> + +<P> +It did not explain whether Mr. Jenkins raised cotton, bought it, sold +it, ginned it, or merely thought about it. The office was so located +that in a morally crusading town, where caution was necessary, it would +have suggested nocturnal poker. But as it was not necessary for a +poker game in Calexico to be so modestly retiring, Reedy's choice of an +office must be attributed solely to his love of quiet and unostentation. +</P> + +<P> +As Bob turned up the side street, two people were coming down the iron +stairway—one a dry, thin man who looked as though he might be the +relict of some dead language, wearing a stiff hat and a black alpaca +coat; the other, a girl of more than medium height, who took the narrow +steps with a sort of spring without even touching the iron rail with +her hand, and her eyes were looking out across the town. +</P> + +<P> +"I beg your pardon," Bob met them at the foot of the stairs, "but can +you tell me if Mr. Jenkins is in?" +</P> + +<P> +It was the girl who turned to answer, and at one look Bob saw she was +more than interesting—soft light hair, inquisitive eyes, an intuitive +mouth—nothing dry or attenuated about her. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she replied, with a slight twist of the mouth, "Mr. Jenkins is +in. Have you a lease to sell?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"Then go on up," she said, and turned across the street following the +spindle-legged man who was unhitching two horses. +</P> + +<P> +"Blooming sunflowers!" exclaimed Bob, his heart taking a quick twist as +she walked away, "as sure as I'm a foot high, that's the girl who stood +in the doorway that night." +</P> + +<P> +As Bob entered the office Jenkins sat tipped back in a swivel chair, +his left arm resting on his desk, the right free as though it had been +gesturing. Reedy had rather large eyes, a plump, smooth face that was +two shades redder than pink and one shade pinker than red. He always +looked as though he had just shaved, and a long wisp of very black hair +dangled diagonally across the corner of his forehead, such as one often +sees on the storm-tossed head of an impassioned orator who is talking +for the audience and working for himself. +</P> + +<P> +"Sit down." He waved Bob to a chair. "I've been wanting to have a +talk with you—got a proposition for you." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<P> +Reedy Jenkins lighted a very good cigar and sat studying Rogeen with a +leisurely air. Bob was a good salesman and began at once: "Understand +you have been buying up leases, and I came up to sell you some farm +machinery." +</P> + +<P> +Reedy took the cigar from his wide mouth and laughed at the joke. "I +don't raise cotton, I leave that to Chinamen—I raise prices. I'm not +a farmer but a financier." +</P> + +<P> +Then returning the cigar to the corner of his mouth he remarked with a +pink judicialness: +</P> + +<P> +"I should say you have a way with the ladies." +</P> + +<P> +Bob blushed. "I never discovered it, if I have." +</P> + +<P> +"I have, myself." Reedy bit the end of his cigar and nodded with a +doggish appreciation of his own fascination. "But I'm too busy just +now to use it." +</P> + +<P> +"Rogeen"—Reedy laid the smoking cigar on some papers on his desk and +faced Bob—"I've had my eye on you for some time. I am buying up +leases across the line. I need a good man to work over there. What is +Dayton paying you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Twenty a week." Bob was surprised at the turn of the conversation. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll give you a hundred and fifty a month to start, and there'll be a +fine chance for promotion." +</P> + +<P> +"What am I to do?" inquired Bob. +</P> + +<P> +"Here is the whole thing in an eggshell. No doubt you are acquainted +with the situation over the line. You know, excepting one or two big +concessions, no Americans own land on the Mexican side. The land is +all farmed under leases and sub-leases. If a Chink or a Jap or a +wandering American hayseed wants to open up a patch of the desert, he +takes a five-year lease. As it costs him from ten to twenty dollars an +acre to clear off the mesquite, level the sand hummocks, and get his +ditches ready for water, he pays only one dollar rent the first year, +two dollars the second, and so on. +</P> + +<P> +"Now"—Reedy picked up his cigar, puffed a time or two, and looked +speculatively over Bob's head—"if a fellow wants to speculate on the +Mexican side, he doesn't deal in land; he buys and sells leases. That +is my business. Of course, once in a while I take over a crop that is +planted or partly raised, because I have to do it to get the lease. +But you can say on general principles I'm about as much interested in +farming as a ground hog is in Easter. +</P> + +<P> +"The price of cotton has been low, and for various and sundry other +reasons"—Reedy squinted his large eyes a little mysteriously—"a lot +of the ranchers over there after getting their land in good shape have +got cold feet and are willing to sell leases that have three or four +years yet to run for nearly nothing. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm acquiring a bunch of them and am going to make a fortune out of +them. One of these days the price of cotton will take a jump, and I'll +be subleasing ten thousand acres of land at ten dollars an acre that +cost me three. +</P> + +<P> +"Now what I want you for"—he brought his attention down squarely to +Rogeen—"is to buy leases for me—I'll give you a list of what I want +and the prices I'll pay. If you get a lease for less, I'll give you +half the rake-off in addition to your wages." +</P> + +<P> +Bob thought fast. This looked like a fine opportunity; perhaps he was +worth more as a buyer than as a salesman. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll have a try at it," he said. "But I won't sign up for any length +of time until I see how it goes." +</P> + +<P> +"That suits me," Reedy assented readily. His one fear had been that +Bob might want a term contract. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll see Dayton," Bob arose, "and let you know how soon he can let me +off." +</P> + +<P> +Dayton liked Bob and hated to lose him, but was one of those employers +who prefer to suffer some inconvenience or loss rather than stand in +the way of a young man's advancement. +</P> + +<P> +"A hundred and fifty dollars a month is more than I can pay, Rogeen," +he said. "You'd better take it. Begin at once. I'll get Jim Moody in +your place." +</P> + +<P> +At one o'clock Bob was back at Jenkins' office and reported ready for +work. +</P> + +<P> +Reedy reached in his desk for the map on which all the ranches below +the line were carefully marked. +</P> + +<P> +"The ranches I want to get first are along the Dillenbeck Canal. It is +a private water system, and the water costs more; but the land is rich +enough to make up the difference. +</P> + +<P> +"The first one I want you to tackle is here"—he made a cross with his +pencil—"Belongs to a little dried-up old geezer named Chandler. He is +ready to sell; talk to the girl. Five hundred is my top price for +their lease and equipment." +</P> + +<P> +As Bob went down the outside stairway he passed a Mexican going up—a +Mexican with features that suggested some one of his immediate +forefathers was probably a Hebrew. Rogeen recognized him—his name was +Madrigal; and he remembered that someone had told him that the Mexican +was in the secret service over the line, or rather that he was an +unofficial bearer of official information from some shady Mexican +officials to some shady American concerns. +</P> + +<P> +When the Mexican entered the office, Reedy got up and closed the door. +Then he took the map again from a drawer and opened it out on the desk. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll get Benson's lease this week." Reedy put his pencil on the Red +Butte Ranch. "And these," he pointed to smaller squares along the +Dillenbeck Canal, "are the ones I have marked for early annexation. +How many of them have you seen?" +</P> + +<P> +"Thes, and thes, and thes." Madrigal pointed off three ranches. +</P> + +<P> +"I've sent the new man down to see Chandler," said Reedy. "He's the +sort that can win over that girl. I must have that ranch. It is one +of the best of the small ranches." +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Si, si.</I>" Madrigal grinned, and smoothed up his black pompadoured +hair. "Eet will be easy. I gave them big scare about the duty on +cotton next fall." +</P> + +<P> +"And then my friend who manages the Dillenbeck system gave them another +about the price of water this summer," smiled Reedy. "But"—he +frowned—"if the girl should continue obstinate, and they refuse to +sell?" +</P> + +<P> +"Then I'll attend to the señorita"—the Mexican put his hand on his +heart and bowed gallantly—"the ladies are easy for Señor Madrigal." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Reedy, shutting his wide mouth determinedly, "and if he +fails, I'll 'tend to Rogeen." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<P> +It was a little after sundown when Bob rode up to the Chandler ranch. +The girl was out under the cottonwood trees by the irrigation canal +gathering up dry sticks for stove wood. He hitched his horse and went +to her. +</P> + +<P> +"Good evening," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Where is your fiddle?" There was a faint twist of amusement at the +corner of her mouth. +</P> + +<P> +"How did you know?" +</P> + +<P> +"Guessed it," she replied, with a little lift of the eyebrows; and then +stooped to pick up the armful of dry sticks she had gathered. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me have them." He stepped forward to take the wood. +</P> + +<P> +"Why should you?" she said, without offering to relinquish them. "I +prefer to carry my own sticks—then I don't have to build fires for +other people." He laughed, and followed her up the path toward the +shack. +</P> + +<P> +"Let us sit down here." She led the way to a homemade bench in the +open. "Daddy has had a hard day and has gone to bed, and I don't want +to disturb him. He's very tired and has been upset over this lease +business." +</P> + +<P> +That was an opening, but before he could take advantage of it she +abruptly changed the conversation: +</P> + +<P> +"But you haven't told me why you didn't bring your fiddle this time. +I'd love to hear it on a night like this." Dusk was coming swiftly and +the stars had begun to glimmer. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I don't carry it round as a business," he answered. "Fact is, +until the other night I had not played it but twice in eight years." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" She turned to him with curious interest. +</P> + +<P> +"It hasn't usually brought me good luck." +</P> + +<P> +"What happened the other two times?" +</P> + +<A NAME="img-028"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-028.jpg" ALT="Jenkins and Lolita awed by Percy's fiddling." BORDER="2" WIDTH="640" HEIGHT="449"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 640px"> +Jenkins and Lolita awed by Percy's fiddling. +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +He looked off at the very bright star in the west and smiled with +whimsical ruefulness. "I love music—that is, what I call music. When +I was in the Ozarks I fiddled a lot, but discovered it did not bring me +what I wanted, so I went to work. I got a job in a bank at Oakville; +was to begin work Monday. I was powerful proud of that job, and had +got a new suit of clothes and went to town Saturday. That night there +was a dance, and they asked me to play for it." He stopped to chuckle, +but still a little regretfully. "My playing certainly made a hit. +Sunday morning a preacher lambasted the dance, and called me the +special messenger of the devil. My job was with a pillar of his +church. I didn't go to work Monday morning. It's a queer world; that +preacher was the father of Noah Ezekiel Foster, who is now working for +Benson." +</P> + +<P> +She was looking out at the west, smiling; the desert wind pushed the +hair back from her forehead. "And the other time you played?" +</P> + +<P> +"That was up at Blindon, Colorado." He showed some reluctance to go +ahead. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" +</P> + +<P> +"An old doctor and his daughter came to the camp to invest. I +overheard them in the next room at the boarding house, and knew a gang +of sharks was selling them a fake mine. I tried to attract their +attention through the partition by playing a fool popular song—'If you +tell him yes; you are sure to cry, by and by.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Did you make them understand?" She had locked her hands round her +knees and leaned interestedly toward him. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—and also the gang. The camp made up money to pay the undertaker +to bury me next day. I still have the receipt." +</P> + +<P> +"You have had a lot of experience," she said with a touch of envy. +</P> + +<P> +"More than the wisdom I have gathered justifies, I fear," he replied. +</P> + +<P> +"Experiences are interesting," she observed. "I haven't had many, but +I'm beginning. Daddy was professor of Sanskrit in a little one-horse +denominational college back in the hog-feeding belt of the Middle West. +Heavens!" she spoke with sudden fierceness, "can you imagine anything +more useless than teaching Sanskrit? His salary was two hundred +dollars a year less than the janitor's. I hated being poor; and I +hated worse the dry rot of that little faculty circle. The deadly +seriousness of their piffling, pedantic talk about fine-spun scholastic +points that were not interesting nor useful a thousand years ago, and +much less now that they are absolutely dead. I hated being prim and +pretentious. I could not stand it any longer, and made Daddy resign +and go somewhere to plant something. We came out here and I thought I +saw a fortune in cotton. +</P> + +<P> +"Daddy's worked like a galley slave getting this field in; he's done +the work of two men. With one Chinaman's help part of the time he's +got in a hundred and sixty acres of cotton. We've put through two hot +summers here; and spent every dollar we got for our household goods and +his life insurance. And now"—she was frowning in the dark—"we are +warned to get out." +</P> + +<P> +"Who warned you?" Bob asked quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"A Mexican named Madrigal. He has been right friendly to us; and +warned us last week that the Mexican Government is going to raise the +duty on cotton so high this fall that it will take all the profit. He +advises us to sell our lease for anything we can get." +</P> + +<P> +"Have you had an offer?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she shrugged in the dusk and spoke with bitter weariness, "a +sort of an offer. Mr. Jenkins offered us $500. Daddy wanted to take +it, but I objected. I guess, though, it is better than nothing." +</P> + +<P> +Bob stood up, his muscles fairly knotted. He understood in a flash why +the Mexican Jew was going to Jenkins' office. They were stampeding the +small ranchers out of the country, and virtually stealing their leases. +The stars ran together in an angry blur. He felt a swelling of the +throat. It was lucky he was miles away from Reedy Jenkins. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't take it!" he said with vehemence. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Reedy Jenkins had just opened his office next morning and sat down at +the desk to read his mail when Bob Rogeen walked in. Reedy looked up +from a letter and asked greedily: +</P> + +<P> +"Did you get it?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." There was something ominous in Rogeen's tone. +</P> + +<P> +"Couldn't you persuade them to sell?" Jenkins was openly vexed. +</P> + +<P> +"I persuaded them not to." Bob's hands opened and shut as though they +would like to get hold of something. "I don't care for this job. I'm +done." +</P> + +<P> +"What's the idea?" There was a little sneer in Jenkins' tone. +"Decided you would go back to the old job selling pots and pans?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," and Bob's brown eyes, almost black now, looked straight into +Reedy's flushed, insolent face, "I'm going across the line to <I>raise +cotton</I>." +</P> + +<P> +Reedy's wide mouth opened in a contemptuous sneer. +</P> + +<P> +"It's rather hot over there for rabbits." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," Bob's lips closed warningly, "and it may become oppressive for +wolves." +</P> + +<P> +Their eyes met defiantly for a moment, and each knew the other +understood—and it meant a fight. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<P> +Bob had never known a resolution before. He thought he had, but he +knew now that all the rest compared to what he felt as he left Reedy +Jenkins' office were as dead cornstalks to iron rods. +</P> + +<P> +One night nearly nine years ago, when returning through the hills with +his fiddle under his arm, he had stopped at the door of his cabin and +looked up at the stars. The boisterous fun of an hour ago had all +faded out, leaving him dissatisfied and lonesome. He was shabbily +dressed, not a dollar in his pocket—not a thing in the world his own +but that fiddle—and he knew he was no genius with that. He was not +getting on in the world; he was not making anything of himself. It was +then that the first big resolution came to him: He would quit this +fooling and go to work; he would win in this game of life. Since then +in the main he had stuck to that resolution. He had not knowingly +passed any opportunity by; certainly he had dodged nothing because it +was hard. He had won a little here, and lost there, always hoping, +always tackling the new job with new pluck. Yet these efforts had been +simple; somebody had offered him a job and he tried to make good at +it—and usually had. But to win now, and win big as he was determined +to do, he must have a job of his own; and he would have to create that +job, organize it, equip it. +</P> + +<P> +"What I'll make it with—or just how—I don't know. But by all the +gods of the desert I'm going to win right here—in spite of the +thermometer, the devil, and Reedy Jenkins." +</P> + +<P> +To raise cotton one must have a lease, tools, teams, provisions—all of +which costs money; and he had just $167.35. But if that girl and her +Sanskrit father could get in a cotton crop, he could. It was not too +late. Cotton might be planted in the Imperial Valley even up to the +last of May. He would get a field already prepared if he could; if +not, then he would prepare it. +</P> + +<P> +And a man with a good lease and a good reputation could usually borrow +some money on which to raise a crop. Bob's mind again came back to the +Red Butte Ranch. It was so big that it almost swamped his imagination, +but if he was going to do big things he must think big. If he could +possibly sublease that ranch from Benson. But it would take $100,000 +to finance a five-thousand-acre cotton crop. Then he thought of Jim +Crill, the old man of the Texas oil fields who was looking for +investments. +</P> + +<P> +It was daring enough to seem almost fantastic, but Bob quickened his +step and turned toward the depot. He could yet catch the morning train +for Los Angeles. +</P> + +<P> +But he passed Benson on the way. The same morning Bob called at the +Los Angeles office Benson went to Reedy Jenkins in Calexico. +</P> + +<P> +The Red Butte lease had three years to run. Benson began by offering +the lease and all the equipment for $40,000. He had spent more than +$90,000 on it. +</P> + +<P> +Reedy pushed back the long black lock of hair from his forehead, shook +his head lugubriously, and grew pessimistically oratorical. Things +were very unsettled over the line: there was talk of increased Mexican +duty on cotton, of a raise in water rates; the price of cotton was +down; ranchers were coming out instead of going in; no sale at all for +leases. He himself had not had an offer for a lease in two months. +</P> + +<P> +They dickered for an hour. Reedy watching with a gloating shrewdness +the impractical fellow who had tried to farm with money. He knew +Benson had lost money on the last crop, and besides had been thoroughly +scared by the sly Madrigal. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm tired of the whole thing." Benson spoke with annoyed vexation. +"I tell you what I'll do: I'll walk off the ranch and leave you the +whole damn thing for $20,000." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll take it." Reedy knew when the limit was reached. "I'll pay you +$2,000 now to bind the bargain; and the balance within ten days." +</P> + +<P> +As Benson left the office with the check, Reedy began figuring +feverishly. It was the biggest thing he had ever pulled off. The +lease, even with cotton selling for only eight cents, was worth +certainly $50,000, the equipment at least $10,000 more. And the five +thousand acres was already planted and coming up! In the Imperial +Valley the planting is by far the most expensive part of the cotton +crop up to picking. It costs from seven to ten dollars an acre to get +it planted; after that it is easy. There are so few weeds and so +little grass that one man, with a little extra help once or twice +during the summer, can tend from forty to eighty acres. +</P> + +<P> +It was such an astounding bargain that Reedy's pink face grew a little +pale, and he moistened his lips as he figured. He was trying to +reassure himself that it would be dead easy to borrow the other +$18,000. He did not have it. In truth, he had only two hundred left +in the bank. He thought of Tom Barton and two of the banks from whom +he had already borrowed. They did not seem promising. Then he thought +of Jim Crill, and the pinkness came slowly back to his face. He smiled +doggishly as he picked up the phone, called El Centro, and asked for +Mrs. Evelyn Barnett. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Evelyn Barnett sat on the porch shaded by a wistaria vine, her +feet discreetly side by side on the floor, her hands primly folded in +her lap; her head righteously erect, as one who could wear her widow's +weeds without reproach, having been faithful to the very last ruffle of +her handsome dress to the memory of her deceased. +</P> + +<P> +She had insisted on taking Uncle Crill from the hotel, which was +ruining his digestion, and making a home for him. She had leased an +apartment bungalow, opening on a court, and with the aid of three +servants had, at great personal sacrifice, managed to give Uncle Crill +a "real home." True, Uncle was not in it very much, but it was there +for him to come back to. +</P> + +<P> +"Uncle," she had said, piously, showing him the homelike wonders that +three servants had been able to achieve in the six rooms, "in the +crudities of this horrid, uncouth country, we must keep up the +refinements to which we were accustomed in the East." The old +gentleman had grunted, remembering what sort of refinements they had +been accustomed to, but made no outward protests at being thus frillily +domesticated after ten years in the Texas oil fields. +</P> + +<P> +And as Mrs. Barnett sat on the porch this morning, fully and carefully +dressed, awaiting the result of that telephone message from Calexico, +she watched with rank disapproval her neighbours to the right and left. +It was quite hot already and Mrs. Borden on the right had come out on +the porch, dressed with amazing looseness of wrapper, showing a very +liberal opening at the throat, and stood fanning herself with a +newspaper. Mrs. Cramer on the left, having finished her sweeping, had +come out on the porch also, and in garments that indicated no padding +whatever dropped into a rocking chair, crossed her legs, made a dab at +her loosely piled hair to see it did not topple down, and proceeded to +read the morning newspaper. It was positively shocking, thought Mrs. +Barnett, how women could so far forget themselves. She never did. +</P> + +<P> +Directly her primly erect head turned slightly, and her eyes which +always seemed looking for something substantial—no dream stuff for +her—widened with satisfaction and she put her hand up to her collar to +see if the breastpin was in place. +</P> + +<P> +It was Reedy Jenkins who got out of the machine which stopped at the +entrance. He took off his hat when halfway to the porch—his black +hair was smoothly brushed—his face opened with a flattering smile and +he quickened his step. Mrs. Barnett permitted herself to rise, take +two short steps forward, and to smile reservedly as she offered her +hand. +</P> + +<P> +Reedy Jenkins had not exaggerated when he said he had a way with the +ladies. He did have. It was rather a broad way, but there are plenty +of ladies who are not subtle. +</P> + +<P> +"You have a lovely little place here." Reedy gave a short, approving +glance round as he took the offered chair. "It's wonderful what a +woman's touch can do to make a home. No place like home, if there is +some dear woman there to preside." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Barnett's mouth simpered at the implied flattery; but her eyes, +always looking calculatingly for substantial results, were studying +Reedy Jenkins. He certainly had handsome black hair, and he was well +dressed—and the manner of a gentleman. He reminded her of an +evangelist she had known back in Indiana. She had intended to marry +that evangelist if his wife died in time; but she did not. +</P> + +<P> +"It is very hard to do much here," Mrs. Barnett said, deprecatingly. +"There is so much dust, and the market is so poor, and servants are so +untrained and so annoying. But of course I do what little I can to +make dear Uncle a good home. It was a great sacrifice for me to come, +but when duty calls one must not think of self." +</P> + +<P> +"No, I suppose not." Reedy sighed and shook his head until the long +black lock dangled across the corner of his forehead—he did look like +that evangelist. "But I wish sometime that we could forget the other +fellow and think of ourselves. I'd have been a millionaire by now if I +hadn't been so chicken-hearted about giving the other fellow the best +of it." +</P> + +<P> +"We never lose by being generous," said Mrs. Barnett with conviction. +</P> + +<P> +"No, I suppose not," Reedy sighed. "No doubt it pays in the long run. +I know I've been put in the way of making many thousands of dollars +first and last by fellows I had been good to." Then Reedy looked at +Mrs. Barnett steadily and with wide admiration in his large +eyes—looked until she blushed very deeply. +</P> + +<P> +"It may be a rough place to live," said Reedy, "but it certainly has +been good for your colour. You are pink as a—a flower; you look +positively swee——" He broke off abruptly. "I beg your pardon; I +almost forgot myself." +</P> + +<P> +Then Reedy changed the subject to the matter of business on which he +had come. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," Mrs. Barnett said, giving him her hand as he rose to go, "I'll +see Uncle to-night; and I'm sure Mr. Jenkins"—he still held her hand +and increased the pressure—"he'll be most glad to do it." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<P> +Three days after Bob had returned from Los Angeles and found that Reedy +Jenkins had bought the Benson lease, he rode up from the Mexican side +and jumped off in front of the hardware store. Dayton was talking to +the old man with bushy eyebrows and a linen duster. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's Rogeen now," said the implement dealer. "Mr. Crill was just +inquiring about you, Bob." +</P> + +<P> +The two men shook hands. +</P> + +<P> +"How you comin'?" asked the old man, his blue eyes looking sharply into +Rogeen's. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm starting in on my own," replied Bob; "going to raise cotton over +the line." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" The heavy brows worked frowningly. +</P> + +<P> +"Got to win through." Bob's brows also contracted and he shook his +head resolutely. "And I can't do it working by the month. Some men +can, but I can't." +</P> + +<P> +"See that?" The old gentleman pointed to a tractor with ten plows +attached. "That's success. Those plows are good and the engine is +good; but it's only when they are hooked up together they are worth +twenty teams and ten men. That's the way to multiply results—hook +good things together. Resolution and hard work aren't enough. Got to +have brains. Got to use 'em. Organize your forces. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't tell me," the old chap spoke with some heat, "that a man who +uses his brains and by one day's work makes something that saves a +million men ten days' work is only entitled to one day's pay. Not a +bit of it. He's entitled to part of what he saves every one of those +million men. That's the difference between a little success and a big +success. The little one makes something for himself; the big one makes +something for a thousand men—and takes part of it. Has a right to. +Those Chinamen across the line get sixty-five cents a day. If you can +manage them so they earn a dollar and a half a day and give them a +dollar and thirty cents of it and keep twenty cents, you are a public +benefactor as well as a smart man. That is the way to do it; use your +brains to increase other men's production and take a fair per cent. of +it, and you'll be both rich and honest." +</P> + +<P> +Bob's brown eyes were eagerly attentive. He liked this cryptic old +man. This was real stuff he was talking; and it was getting at the +bottom of Rogeen's own problem. All these years he had tried to +produce value single-handed. But to win big, he must think, plan, +organize so as to make money for many people, and therefore entitle +himself to large returns. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to try that very thing," he said. "I've just leased one +hundred and sixty acres. Half already planted in cotton, and I'm going +to plant the rest." +</P> + +<P> +Bob was proud of his achievement. He had been really glad he failed to +get the Red Butte Ranch. It was entirely too big to tackle without +capital or experience. But he had found a rancher anxious to turn +loose his lease for about half what he had spent improving it. Rogeen +then convinced a cotton-gin man that he was a good risk; and offered to +give him ten per cent. interest, half the cotton seed, and to gin the +crop at his mill if he would advance money sufficient to buy the lease +and raise the crop. The gin man had agreed to do it. +</P> + +<P> +Crill jerked his head approvingly. "Good move. That's the way to go +at it. Think first, then work like the devil at the close of a +revival." +</P> + +<P> +Crill paused, and then asked abruptly: +</P> + +<P> +"Know a man named Jenkins?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," replied Bob. +</P> + +<P> +"Is he safe?" +</P> + +<P> +Bob grinned. "About as safe as a rattlesnake in dog days." +</P> + +<P> +As Jim Crill stalked up the outside stairway of Reedy Jenkins' office, +the wind whipping the tail of the linen duster about his legs, he +carried with him two very conflicting opinions of Reedy—Mrs. Barnett's +and Bob Rogeen's. Maybe one of them was prejudiced—possibly both. +Well, he would see for himself. +</P> + +<P> +Reedy jumped up, gave his head a cordial fling, and grabbed Jim Crill's +hand as warmly as though he were chairman of the committee welcoming +the candidate for vice-president to a tank-station stop. Reedy +remembered very distinctly meeting Mr. Crill in Chicago five years ago. +In fact, Mr. Crill had for a long time been Mr. Jenkins' ideal of the +real American business man—shrewd, quick to think, and fearless in +action; willing to take a chance but seldom going wrong. +</P> + +<P> +"Evy said you wanted to see me about borrowing some money," the old man +dryly interrupted the flow of eloquence. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—why, yes." Reedy brought up suddenly before he had naturally +reached his climax, floundered for a moment. "Why, yes, we have an +investment that I thought would certainly interest you." Reedy had +decided not only to get the old man to finance the Red Butte purchase +but his whole project. +</P> + +<P> +He began to explain his maps and figures as volubly as though he were +selling the Encyclopedia Britannica, and again the old man cut in: +</P> + +<P> +"How many acres you got leased?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ten thousand—practically." Reedy paused to answer, his pencil +touching the Dillenbeck Canal. +</P> + +<P> +"What did you pay for them?" +</P> + +<P> +"I got most of them for about a third to half what they cost the +ranchers." +</P> + +<P> +"Why did they sell so cheap?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," Reedy waved, vaguely evasive, "you know how that is; fellows are +like sheep—stampede into a country, and then one makes a break, and +they stampede out. Now that Benson has sold, a lot more of them will +get cold feet." +</P> + +<P> +"Altogether how much money have you put in over there?" +</P> + +<P> +"Forty-two thousand dollars," replied Reedy, consulting a memorandum. +"You understand," he continued to explain, "I'm not a cotton grower at +all; I am an investor. I'm dealing in leases; and I merely took over +the planted crop on the Benson leases because I got it so cheap there +is bound to be money in it." +</P> + +<P> +"What is it you want?" demanded Crill. +</P> + +<P> +"Seventy thousand or so for the lease and the crop. I have 8,000 acres +already planted, some of it coming up. I'll pay you 10 per cent. for +the money, and half the cotton seed, and give you first mortgage on the +crop. Those are the usual terms here." +</P> + +<P> +The sharp blue eyes under the shaggy brows had been investigating Reedy +as they talked. He wanted to make loans, for he had a lot of idle +money. "There are two sorts of men who pay their debts," the old man +said to himself. "One who wants to owe more, and one who doesn't want +to owe anything." Jenkins would want to borrow more, therefore he +would pay his first loan. Even rascals are usually good pay when they +are making money. And it looked like this fellow would make money on +these leases. Anyway, Jim Crill moved a little annoyedly in his chair +at the thought of his niece. It would be almost worth the risk to be +rid of Evy's nagging him about it. +</P> + +<P> +"Fix up the papers," he said, shortly, to Reedy's delight. He had +expected to have to work much harder on the old man. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning after the interview with Jim Crill Bob was at the +hardware store assembling the implements he had bought, when a tall, +shambling hill billy sauntered up. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Noah Ezekiel Foster," said Bob, without looking up. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello," responded the hill billy. "Reckon you know a hoss at long +range." +</P> + +<P> +"Reckon I do." Bob resumed his whistling. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't also know somebody that wants a chauffeur for a tractor? Benson +sold out my job." +</P> + +<P> +"No." Bob straightened up and looked at the lank fellow appraisingly. +"But I know a fellow who wants a chauffeur for a team of mules." +</P> + +<P> +Noah Ezekiel shook his head. "Me and mules have parted ways a long +time ago. I prefer gasoline." Then in a moment: "Who is the fellow?" +</P> + +<P> +Bob grinned and tapped himself. "I'm the man." +</P> + +<P> +Noah Ezekiel shook his head again. +</P> + +<P> +"You look too all-fired industrious; I'd rather work for a fellow that +lives at Los Angeles." +</P> + +<P> +Bob laughed. "Just as you like." +</P> + +<P> +But Noah Ezekiel ventured one more question: +</P> + +<P> +"You workin' for Reedy Jenkins?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not much!" Bob put emphasis in that. +</P> + +<P> +"Where is your ranch?" +</P> + +<P> +"On the road a couple of miles north of Chandler's." +</P> + +<P> +The hill billy's forehead wrinkled and his eyes looked off into empty +space. +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon I'll change my mind. I'll take the job. How much am I +gettin' a month?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<P> +Some men fail because they invest their money in bad business. More +fail because they invest themselves in sorry human material. They +trust their plans to people who cannot or will not carry them out. +</P> + +<P> +Bob from his first day as an employer realized that to be able to plan +and work himself was only half of success. One must be able to pick +men who will carry out his plans, must invest his brains, his +generosity, his fair treatment, and his affections in human beings who +will return him loyalty for loyalty. +</P> + +<P> +He had made no mistake in Noah Ezekiel Foster. Noah was a good cotton +planter; moreover, he knew a good deal about Chinese. Bob had employed +six Chinamen to help get the ground in shape and the cotton planted. +</P> + +<P> +"Noah," Bob stopped beside the disk plow and its double team, "you +understand mules." +</P> + +<P> +"I ought to." Noah rubbed his lean jaw. "I've been kicked by 'em +enough." +</P> + +<P> +Bob smiled. Somehow Noah's look of drollery always put him in a good +humour. He noticed it also tickled the Chinamen, who thought "Misty +Zeekee" one of the greatest of Anglo-Saxons. +</P> + +<P> +"You see," remarked Noah, picking up the lines again, "as my dad used +to say, 'He that taketh hold of the handles of a plow and looketh back, +verily, he shall be kicked by a mule.' I never calculate to be kicked +in the back. But if that Chinaman over there"—he frowned at a +Chinaboy who was fumbling over a cotton planter—"don't get a move on +him, he'll be kicked wherever he happens to hit my foot first. Hi, +there"—Noah threw up his head and yelled to the Chinaboy—"get a move +on. Plantee cotton. Goee like hellee." And the Chinaman did. +</P> + +<P> +Bob laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you reckon you could let me have five dollars to-night?" Noah +Ezekiel asked, looking down at his plow. "I want to go up to the Red +Owl at Mexicali." +</P> + +<P> +"Not going to gamble, are you?" Bob asked. +</P> + +<P> +Noah Ezekiel shook his head. "No, I ain't goin' to gamble. Goin' to +invest the five in my education. I want to learn how many ways there +are for a fool and his money to part." +</P> + +<P> +After supper, when Noah Ezekiel had ridden away to invest his five +dollars in the educational processes of the Red Owl, Bob brought a +stool out of the house and sat down to rest his tired muscles and watch +the coming night a little while before he turned in. Bob and his +foreman occupied the same shack—the term "house," as Noah Ezekiel +said, being merely a flower of speech. Although there were several +hundred thousand acres of very rich land under cultivation on the +Mexican side, with two or three exceptions there was not a house on any +of the ranches that two men could not have built in one day and still +observe union hours. Four willow poles driven in the ground, a few +crosspieces, a thatch of arrowweed, three strips of plank nailed round +the bottom, some mosquito netting, and it was done. A Chinaman would +take another day off and build a smoking adobe oven; but Bob and Noah +had a second-hand oil stove on which a Chinese boy did their cooking. +</P> + +<P> +Bob sat and looked out over the level field in the dusk. A quarter of +a mile away the light glimmered in the hut of his Chinese help, and +there came the good-natured jabber of their supper activities. He felt +the expansive thrill of the planter, the employer—the man who +organizes an enterprise and makes it go. +</P> + +<P> +The heat of the day was already gone, and pleasant coolness was on the +night wind that brought the smell of desert sage from beyond the +watered fields. Bob stirred from the chair and got up. His tiredness +was gone. The desert night had him. He went into the shack and took +from an old scarred trunk his fiddle, and started down the road that +passed his ranch to the south. He had not yet called on the Chandlers. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The little house was dark. Rogeen wondered if the Chandlers were +asleep. But his heart took a quicker turn; he fancied he saw something +white in the yard—the girl was also feeling the spell of the desert +night. +</P> + +<P> +Then suddenly, but softly, a guitar thrummed, and a voice with the +half-wailing cadence of the Spanish took up the melody. +</P> + +<P> +Bob stood still, the blood crowding his veins until his face was hot +and his whole body prickled. This was Madrigal, the Mexican Jew. +</P> + +<P> +The song ended. Faintly came the clapping of hands, and the ripple of +a girl's laughter. Bob turned angrily and walked swiftly back up the +road, walked clear past his own ranch without noticing, and finally +turned aside by a clump of cottonwood trees along the levee of the main +irrigation canal. The water, a little river here, ran swiftly, +muddily, black under the desert stars. Bob lifted his fiddle and flung +it into the middle of the stream. +</P> + +<P> +The heat of his anger was gone. He felt instantly cold, and infinitely +lonesome. There upon the muddy water floated away the thousand songs +of the hills—the melody, the ecstasy, the colour and light of his +early youth. +</P> + +<P> +With sudden repentance he turned and dashed down the bank after the +hurrying current. The fall is rapid here, and the fiddle was already +far down the stream. He ran stumblingly, desperately, along the uneven +bank, dodging willows and arrowweed, stopping now and again to peer up +and down the stream. +</P> + +<P> +It was nowhere in sight. A sort of frenzy seized him. He had a queer +fancy that in that moment of anger he had thrown away his soul—all of +him that was not bread and dollars. He must get it back—he must! +Another dash, and again he stopped on the bank. Something darker than +the current bobbed upon the muddy water. Without a moment's hesitancy +he plunged into the stream and waded waist deep into the middle of the +current. +</P> + +<P> +Yes, it was his violin. Back on the bank, dripping wet, he hugged it +to him like a little girl with a doll that was lost and is found. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<P> +The next morning at breakfast Noah Ezekiel remarked: +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder where that skunk got the money." +</P> + +<P> +"What skunk and what money?" Bob was pouring sirup on a pancake, a +product of much patience both on his part and the Chinese cook's. +</P> + +<P> +"Jenkins." Noah answered both questions in one word. "Not long ago he +had to borrow a dime for a doughnut. Last night he was at the Red Owl +gambling with both fists. And I heard he's bought altogether ten +thousand acres in leases. 'Verily,' as dad used to say, 'the sinner +flourisheth like a thorn tree.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know if he has bought Chandler's?" Bob asked, casually, not +meeting Noah's eye. +</P> + +<P> +"No, but I reckon he will. He seems out for a clean-up." +</P> + +<P> +"If you see the Chandlers," suggested Rogeen, "advise them not to sell." +</P> + +<P> +Noah Ezekiel reached for the towel to wipe his mouth, and shook his +head. +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't strong on giving advice. I believe in doin' as you'd be done +by, and most all the advice I ever got was as hard to take as castor +oil. Advice is like givin' a dog ipecac—it may break him of suckin' +eggs, but it sure is hard on the dog." +</P> + +<P> +Bob laughed and got up and started to work. +</P> + +<P> +The first Saturday in June Rogeen and Noah quit at noon, for the rush +was over. +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon," Noah insinuated, suavely, "if you are feelin' right good I +might strike you for another five to-night." +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly," said Bob. "But look here, Noah, you ought not to gamble +away your wages." +</P> + +<P> +Noah Ezekiel pulled a long face. +</P> + +<P> +"You sound like my dad. And I ain't fully persuaded you are enough of +a saint to preach." +</P> + +<P> +"You are incorrigible, Zeke," Bob laughed. "And I think I'll go with +you to-night to the Red Owl." +</P> + +<P> +Noah shook his head. "I wouldn't advise it. Gamblin' ain't to be +recommended to employers. It's liable to put wages in japordy." +</P> + +<P> +"I am not going to gamble," said Bob. "I am looking for a man—a +couple of them, in fact." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Reedy Jenkins had returned to his office about two o'clock after making +a complete circuit of his leases. The crop looked fine—so everybody +told him. He knew little about cotton, but Ah Sing was a wonderful +farmer—he knew how to handle the Chinese labourer. +</P> + +<P> +Then he looked at his watch and frowned. He wished that blankety-blank +Mexican would be more prompt in keeping his appointments. He wanted to +get away. He was to drive to El Centro for a visit with Mrs. Barnett +and then to-night he would return for a little recreation across the +line. +</P> + +<P> +It was nearly four when Madrigal finally appeared, wearing an expensive +white summer suit and a jaunty straw hat. "He is a handsome devil," +thought Reedy, eying him with disfavour because of his lateness. The +Mexican took off his straw hat attached to a buttonhole by a silk cord, +and pushed up his black pompadoured hair. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you got the Chandler ranch yet?" Jenkins came directly to the +point. +</P> + +<P> +"Not yet, señor." Madrigal's bold, dark eyes smiled with supreme +confidence. "Not yet—but soon." +</P> + +<P> +The Mexican stood up and returned his hat to his head. He put up his +hands as though strumming a guitar, turned up his eyes languishingly, +and hummed a flirting air. +</P> + +<P> +"If this, señor," he said, breaking off, "does not win the señorita, we +will try—what you call hem—direct action. You shall have your ranch, +never fear." +</P> + +<P> +"And that damned Rogeen—what of him?" +</P> + +<P> +The Mexican smiled sinisterly. "He get news tonight that make heem +lose much sleep. +</P> + +<P> +"Now may I trouble Señor Jenkins for fifty dollar?" +</P> + +<P> +Reedy grumbled, but paid. The Mexican lifted his hand, pressed it to +his heart, and bowed with mocking gallantry. +</P> + +<P> +"Until to-night, señor." +</P> + +<BR> + +<A NAME="img-060"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-060.jpg" ALT="Lolita tries her wiles on Percy." BORDER="2" WIDTH="431" HEIGHT="655"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 431px"> +Lolita tries her wiles on Percy. +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<P> +Reedy Jenkins and Mrs. Barnett sat in a cool, shadowed corner of the +porch. Reedy took a plump yellow cigar from his vest pocket, and with +a deferential bow: +</P> + +<P> +"Will you permit me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly, Mr. Jenkins." Mrs. Barnett spoke in a liberal-minded tone. +"I do not object at all to the fragrance of a good cigar—especially +out of doors." +</P> + +<P> +"It is a vile habit," said Jenkins, deprecatingly, as he began to puff. +"But after a fellow has worked hard on some big deal, and is all strung +up, it seems to offer a sort of relaxation. Of course, I think a man +ought to smoke in reason. We are coarse brutes at the best—and need +all the refining influences we can get." +</P> + +<P> +"I think it is bad for the throat," said Evelyn Barnett. "That is what +I tell Uncle Crill. He smokes entirely too much." +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Crill was absent. He usually was. The old chap was willing for +Evy to save his digestion within reason—but not his soul. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear friend," Reedy made a rather impetuous gesture with his right +hand toward the demure widow, "it was splendid of you to persuade your +uncle to lend me that money for the big deal. It was the sort of thing +that one never forgets. We have plenty of friends willing to help us +spend our money, but only a few, a very few loyal ones, willing to help +us make it. +</P> + +<P> +"Depend upon it, my dear young lady, I'll not forget that +favour—never. And as I promised before I shall give you personally +one fourth of the profits." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Barnett gave her head a little depreciating twist and smoothed the +dress over her right knee. +</P> + +<P> +"That will be very generous of you, Mr. Jenkins. But of course one +does not do things for one's friends for money. Not but I can use +it—to do good with," she hastened. +</P> + +<P> +"My poor husband would have left me a comfortable fortune in my own +right if it had not been for the meddlesomeness of some one who had no +business to interfere. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Barnett was a mine owner—and a most excellent business man. He +had large interests in Colorado. One mine he was going to sell. An +old gentleman and his daughter were just ready to buy it. The papers +were all drawn, and they were to pay over their money that evening. +But some horrid young man, a wandering fiddler or something, got to +meddling and persuaded them not to trade. +</P> + +<P> +"It was an awful loss to poor Tom. He was to have had $60,000 out of +the sale—and he never got one cent out of that mine, not a cent." +</P> + +<P> +"What did they do to that fellow that broke up the trade?" asked Reedy, +puffing interestedly at his cigar. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Mr. Barnett said they taught him a lesson that would keep him from +spoiling any more trades." Mrs. Barnett laughed. And then accusingly: +"Isn't it queer how mean some people are. Now just that little +interference from that meddlesome stranger kept me from having a small +fortune." A deep sigh. "And one can do so much good with money. Just +think if I had that money how many poor people around here I could +help. I hear there are families living across the line in little +shacks—one or two rooms with dirt floors—and no bathroom. Isn't it +awful? And women, too!" +</P> + +<P> +Reedy twisted his chair about so he looked squarely at the widow. The +sun had gone down, and the quick twilight was graying the row of palm +trees that broke the skyline to the south. Jenkins was in a hurry to +get away, but his visit was not quite rounded out. +</P> + +<P> +"You must be very lonely," he said with a deep, sad voice—"since your +husband died. Loneliness—ah loneliness! is the great ache of the +human heart." +</P> + +<P> +"Y-e-s. Oh, yes," Mrs. Barnett did not sound utterly desolate. "But +of course, Mr. Barnett being away so much——" There was a significant +pause. "He was an excellent man—a good business man, but you know. +Well, some people are more congenial than others. We never had a cross +word in our lives. But—well—our tastes were different, you know." +</P> + +<P> +Reedy smoked and nodded in appreciative silence. The dusk came fast. +Mrs. Barnett rustled her starched skirts and sighed. +</P> + +<P> +"You know, Mr. Jenkins," she began on a totally different subject, "it +has been such a pleasure to me to meet someone out here in this +God-forsaken country with fine feelings—one who loves the higher +things of life." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, Mrs. Barnett." Reedy bowed in all seriousness. +</P> + +<P> +A moment later when he took his leave he held her hand a thought longer +than necessary, and pressed it as though in a sympathetic impulse for +her loneliness—or his—or maybe just because. +</P> + +<P> +It was dark as Reedy threw the clutch into high and put his foot on the +accelerator. He was out of town too quick to be in danger of arrest +for speeding. He was late. The three others who were to seek +recreation for the evening with him would be waiting. +</P> + +<P> +And biting the end of his cigar he said fervently: +</P> + +<P> +"Thank God for Jim Crill—and his niece." +</P> + +<P> +Reedy's three friends were waiting—but dinner was ready. They had +ordered a special dinner at the Pepper Tree Hotel, served out in a +little pergola in the back yard. +</P> + +<P> +They were all hearty eaters, but not epicures; and anyway they did not +take time to taste much. From where they sat they could look out +between the latticed sides of the pergola across the Mexican line, and +see above and beyond the squat darker buildings a high arch of winking +electric lights. +</P> + +<P> +That was the Red Owl. +</P> + +<P> +And while they talked jerkily and broadly of cotton and real +estate—and women, their thoughts were over there with those winking +lights. +</P> + +<P> +Just across the line there was the old West again—the West of the +early Cripple Creek days, of Carson City and Globe. Still wide open, +still raw, still unashamed. +</P> + +<P> +Over there underneath these lights, in that great barnlike structure, +were scores of tables across which fortunes flowed every night. There +men met in the primitive hunt for money—quick money, and won—and +lost, and lost, and lost. +</P> + +<P> +There, too, the tinkle of a piano out of tune, the blare of a +five-piece orchestra, and the raucous singing of girls who had lost +their voices as significantly as other things. And beyond that, along +shadowy corridors, were other girls standing or sitting in +doorways—lightly dressed. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, are you fellows through?" Reedy had pushed back his chair. +"Let's go." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<P> +It was perhaps an hour later that Bob Rogeen went down the main street +of the Mexican town, also headed for the Owl. Off this main street +only a few lights served to reveal rather than dissipate the night. +But under the dimness Mexicali was alive—a moving, seething, +passionate sort of aliveness. The sidewalks were full, the saloons +were busy. In and out of the meat shops or the small groceries +occasionally a woman came and went. But the crowd was nearly all +men—Mexicans, Chinamen, American ranchers and tourists, Germans, +Negroes from Jamaica, Filipinos, Hindus with turbans. All were +gathered in this valley of intense heat—this ancient bed of the sea +now lower than the sea—not because of gold mines or oil gushers, but +for the wealth that grew from the soil: the fortunes in lettuce, in +melons, in alfalfa, and in cotton. +</P> + +<P> +"Odd," thought Bob, "that the slowest and most conservative of all +industries should find a spot of the earth so rich that it started a +stampede almost like the rush to the Klondike, of men who sought sudden +riches in tilling the soil." +</P> + +<P> +Across the way from a corner saloon came the twang of a mandolin; and +half a dozen Mexican labourers began singing a Spanish folk song. In a +shop at his right a Jap girl sold soda water; in another open door an +old Chinaman mended shoes; and from another came the click of billiard +balls. But most of the crowd was moving toward the Owl. +</P> + +<P> +As Bob stepped inside the wide doors of the gambling hall the scene +amazed him. There were forty tables running—roulette, blackjack, +craps, stud poker—and round them men crowded three to five deep. Down +the full length of one side of the room ran a bar nearly a hundred and +fifty feet long, and in the rear end of the great barnlike structure +thirty or forty girls, most of them American, sang and danced and +smoked and drank with whosoever would buy. +</P> + +<P> +Bob stood to one side of the surging crowd that milled round the gaming +tables, and watched. There was no soft-fingered, velvet-footed glamour +about this place. No thick carpets, rich hangings, or exotic perfumes. +Most of the men were direct from the fields with the soil of the day's +work upon their rough overalls—and often on their faces and grimy +hands. The men who ran the games were in their shirt sleeves, alert, +sweatingly busy; some of them grim, a few predatory, but more of them +easily good-natured. The whole thing was swift, direct, businesslike. +Men were trying to win money from the house; and the house was winning +money from them. This was raw gambling, raw drinking, raw vice. It +was the old Bret Harte days multiplied by ten. +</P> + +<P> +And yet there was a fascination about it. Bob felt it. It is idiotic +to deny that gambling, which is the lure of quick money reduced to +minutes and seconds, has not a fascination for nearly all men. As Bob +stood leaning with his back against the bar—there was no other place +to lean, not one place in that big hall to sit down—the scene filled +him with the tragedy of futile trust in luck. +</P> + +<P> +All these men knew that a day's work, a bale of cotton, a crate of +melons, a cultivator—positive, useful things—brought money, positive, +useful returns. And yet they staked that certainty on a vague belief +in luck—and always, and always lost the certainty in grabbing for the +shadow. +</P> + +<P> +Most of these men were day labourers, clerks, small-salaried men. It +cost a thousand dollars a day to run this house, and it made another +thousand dollars in profits. Two thousand dollars—a thousand days' +hard work squandered every night by the poor devils who hoped to get +something easy. And some of them squandered not merely one day's work +but a month's or six months' hard, sweaty toil flipped away with one +throw of the dice or one spin of the ball. +</P> + +<P> +While Bob's eyes watched the ever-shifting crowd that moved from table +to table he saw Rodriguez, the man for whom he was searching. He was +with Reedy Jenkins and three others coming from that end of the +building devoted to alleged musical comedy. Besides the natty +Madrigal, the sad-looking Rodriguez and Reedy, there were a Mexican and +an American Bob did not know. All of them except Rodriguez wore +expensive silk shirts and panama hats, and had had several drinks and +were headed for more. Reedy, pink and expansive, chuckling and +oratorical, was evidently the host. He was almost full enough and +hilarious enough to do something ridiculous if the occasion offered. +</P> + +<P> +After two more rounds of drinks the party started for the gaming +tables. The crowd was too thick for them to push their way in as a +body, so they scattered. Reedy bought ten dollars' worth of chips at a +roulette table, played them in stacks of twenty, and lost in three +minutes. As he turned away he caught sight of Bob Rogeen and came +across to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Cotton-eyed Joe," he said with drunken jocularity, "let's have +a drink." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks," replied Bob, "my wildest dissipation is iced rain water." +</P> + +<P> +Bob just then caught sight of Noah Ezekiel and moved away from Reedy +Jenkins. He felt it safer—especially for Reedy, to stay out of reach +of him. +</P> + +<P> +Noah Ezekiel's lank form was leaning against a roulette table, a stack +of yellow chips in front of him. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello," said the hill billy as Bob edged his way up to his side. +</P> + +<P> +"How is it going?" asked Bob. +</P> + +<P> +"Fine," answered Noah, carefully laying five chips in the shape of a +star. "I got a system and I'm going to clean 'em up." +</P> + +<P> +Bob smiled and watched. The wheel spun around. The ball slowed and +dropped on 24. Noah's magical star spread around 7. The dealer +reached over and wiped in his five chips. +</P> + +<P> +"You see," Noah explained, taking it for granted Bob knew nothing of +the games, "this is ruelay. You play your money on one number and then +rue it." The hill billy chuckled at his pun. "There are 36 numbers on +the table," he pointed a long forefinger, "and there are 36 numbers on +the wheel. You put your money or chip—the chips are five cents +apiece—on one number, and if the ball stops at that number on the +wheel, you win 35 times what you played." +</P> + +<P> +"But if it doesn't stop on your number?" said Bob. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you are out of luck." Noah Ezekiel had again begun to place his +chips. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," he explained, "you play this thing dozens of ways; one to +two on the red or black, or you can play one to three on the first, +second or third twelve. Or you can play on the line between two +numbers, and if either number wins you get 17 chips." +</P> + +<P> +Noah won this time. The number in the centre of his star came up and +he got 67 chips. +</P> + +<P> +"Better quit now, hadn't you?" suggested Bob. +</P> + +<P> +"Nope—just beginning to rake 'em in," replied Noah. +</P> + +<P> +"Wish you would," said Bob, "and show me the rest of the games." +</P> + +<P> +Noah reluctantly cashed in. He had begun with a dollar and got back +$4.60. +</P> + +<P> +"You see," said Noah, clinking the silver in his hands as they moved +away, "this is lots easier than work. The only reason I work for you +is out of the kindness of my heart. I made that $4.60 in twenty +minutes." +</P> + +<P> +"Here is craps." They had stopped at a table that looked like a gutted +piano, with sides a foot above the bottom. +</P> + +<P> +"You take the dice"—Noah happened to be in line and got them as the +last man lost—"and put down say a half dollar." He laid one on the +line. "You throw the two dice. If seven comes up—— Ah, there!" he +chuckled. "I done it." The face of the dice showed [3 and 4]. "You +see I win." The dealer had thrown down a half dollar on top of Noah's. +"Now, come, seven." Noah flung them again. +</P> + +<P> +Sure enough seven came up again. A dollar was pitched out to him. He +left the two dollars lying. This time he threw eleven and won again. +Four dollars! Noah was in great glee. +</P> + +<P> +"Let's go," urged Bob. +</P> + +<P> +"One more throw," Noah brought up a 6 this time. +</P> + +<P> +"Now," he explained, "I've got to throw until another 6 comes. If I +get a seven before I do a six, they win." His next throw was a seven, +and the dealer raked in the four dollars. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, well," sighed Noah, "only fifty cents of that was mine, anyway. +And the poor gamblers have to live. +</P> + +<P> +"This," he explained, stopping at a table waist high around which a +circle of men stood with money and cards in front of them, "is Black +Jack. +</P> + +<P> +"You put down the amount of money you want to bet. The banker deals +everybody two cards, including himself. But both your cards are face +down, while his second card is face up. +</P> + +<P> +"The game is to see who can get closest to 21. You look at your cards. +All face cards count for ten; ace counts for either 1 or 11 as you +prefer. +</P> + +<P> +"If your cards don't add enough, you can get as many more as you ask +for. But if you ask for a card and it makes you run over 21, you lose +and push your money over. Say you get a king and a 9—that is 19, and +you stand on that, and push your cards under your money. +</P> + +<P> +"When all the rest have all the cards they want, the dealer turns his +over. Say he has a 10 and a 8. He draws. If he gets a card that puts +him over 21, he goes broke and pays everybody. But if he gets say +18—then he pays all those who are nearer 21 than he; but all who have +less than 18 lose." +</P> + +<P> +While Noah had been explaining, he had been playing, and lost a dollar +on each of two hands. +</P> + +<P> +They moved on to a chuck-a-luck game. +</P> + +<P> +"This, you see," said Noah, "is a sort of bird cage with three +overgrown dice. You put your money on any one of these six numbers. +He whirls the cage and shakes up the fat dice. They fall—and if one +of the three numbers which come up is yours, you win. +Otherwise—ouch!" Noah had played a dollar on the 5; and a 1, 2 and a +6 came up. +</P> + +<P> +As they moved away Noah was shaking his head disconsolately. +</P> + +<P> +"Money is like a shadow that soon flees away—and you have to hoe +cotton in the morning." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you know," said Bob, earnestly, "that everyone of these games +give the house from 6 to 30 per cent., and that you are sure to lose in +the end?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah," said Noah, wearily. "You're sure to die in the end, too; but +that don't keep you from goin' on tryin' every day to make a livin' and +have a little fun. It's all a game, and the old man with the mowin' +blade has the last call." +</P> + +<P> +"But," persisted Bob, "when you earn a thing and get what you earn, it +is really yours, and has a value and gives a pleasure that you can't +get out of money that comes any other way." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you believe it," Noah shook his head lugubriously. "The easier +money comes the more I enjoy it. Only it don't never come. It goes. +This here gamblin' business reminds me of an old dominecker hen we used +to have. That hen produced an awful lot of cackle but mighty few eggs. +It is what my dad would have called the shadow without the substance. +But your blamed old tractor gives me a durned lot more substance than I +yearn for." +</P> + +<P> +They were still pushing among the jostling crowd. There were more than +a thousand men in the hall—and a few women. Soiled Mexicans passed +through the jostle with trays on their heads selling sandwiches and +bananas. Fragments of meat and bread and banana peelings were +scattered upon the sawdust floor. It was a grimy scene. And yet Bob +still acknowledged the tremendous pull of it—the raw, quick action of +the stuff that life and death are made of. +</P> + +<P> +Noah nudged Bob and nodded significantly toward the bar, where Reedy +with his three friends and two or three Mexicans, including Madrigal, +were drinking. +</P> + +<P> +"He's cookin' up something agin you," said Noah in a low tone. "Better +go over and talk to him. He's gettin' full enough to spill some of it." +</P> + +<P> +Bob took the suggestion and sauntered over toward the bar. As he +approached, Reedy turned around and nodded blinkingly at him. +</P> + +<P> +"Say," Reedy leaned his elbows on the bar and spoke in a propitiatory +tone, "I'sh sorry you went off in such a huff. Right good fello', I +understand. If you'd asked me, I'd saved you lot of trouble and money +on that lease." Reedy stopped to hiccough. "Even now, take your lease +off your hands at half what it cost." +</P> + +<P> +"So?" Bob smiled sarcastically. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, hell," Reedy was nettled at the lack of appreciation of his +generosity, "that's a good deal better than nothing." +</P> + +<P> +"My lease is not on the market," Bob replied, dryly. +</P> + +<P> +"Now look here!" Reedy half closed his plump eyes and nodded +knowingly. "'Course you are goin' to sell—I got to have four more +ranches to fill out my farm—and when I want 'em I get 'em, see? As +Davy Crockett said to the coon, 'Better come on down before I shoot, +and save powder.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Shoot," said Bob, contemptuously. +</P> + +<P> +"Now look here," Reedy lurched still closer to Bob, and put his plump +fingers down on the bar as though holding something under his hand; "I +got unlimited capital back of me—million dollars—two million—all I +want. That's on 'Merican side—on this side—I got pull. See? Fifty +ways I can squelch you—just like that." He squeezed his plump, soft +hand together as though crushing a soft-shelled egg. +</P> + +<P> +"You are drunk," Bob said, disgustedly, "and talking through a sieve." +He moved away from him and sauntered round the hall. At one of the +tables he came upon Rodriguez, the man he was looking for. +</P> + +<P> +He looked more Spanish than Mexican, had a moustache but did not curl +it, a thin face and soft brown eyes, and the pensive look of a poet who +is also a philosopher. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" Bob questioned in an undertone as they drifted outside of the +gambling hall and stood in the shadows beyond the light of the open +doors. "Did you learn anything?" +</P> + +<P> +Rodriguez nodded. "They have two, three plans to make you get out. +Señor Madrigal is—what you call hem?—detec—detectave in Mexico. +Ver' bad man. He work for Señor Jenkins on the side." +</P> + +<P> +Bob left his Mexican friend. He stood in the shadow of the great +gambling hall for a moment, pulled in opposite directions by two +desires. He remembered a red spot on Reedy Jenkins' cheek just under +his left eye that he wanted to hit awfully bad. He could go back and +smash him one that would knock him clear across the bar. On the other +hand, he wanted to get on his horse and ride out into the silence and +darkness of the desert and think. After all, smashing that red spot on +Reedy's cheek would not save his ranch. He turned quickly down the +street to where his horse was hitched. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<P> +One of the hardest layers of civilization for a woman to throw off is +the cook stove. She can tear up her fashion plates, dodge women's +clubs, drop her books, forsake cosmetics and teas, and yet be fairly +happy. But to the last extremity she clings to her cook stove. +</P> + +<P> +Imogene Chandler had her stove out in the open at a safe distance from +the inflammable weed roof of the "house." The three joints of +stovepipe were held up by being wired to two posts driven in the ground +beside it. +</P> + +<P> +The girl alternately stuffed light, dry sticks into the stove box, and +then lifted the lid of a boiling kettle to jab a fork into the potatoes +to see if they were done. The Chandler larder was reduced to the point +where Imogene in her cooking had to substitute things that would do for +things that tasted good. +</P> + +<P> +Chandler, in from the field, filled a tin washbasin at the tank, set it +on a cracker box, and proceeded to clean up for supper. He rolled his +sleeves up far above his elbows and scrubbed all the visible parts of +his body from the top of his bald head to the shoulder blade under the +loose collar of his open-necked shirt. About the only two habits from +his old life that clung to the ex-professor were his use of big words +and soap. +</P> + +<P> +Chandler sat down at the little board table, also out in the open. It +was after sundown and the heat was beginning to abate. As Imogene +poured coffee into the pint tin cup beside his plate she looked down at +him with protective admiration. +</P> + +<P> +"Dad, I'm proud of you. You've got a tan that would be the envy of an +African explorer; and you are building up a muscle, too; you are almost +as good a man in the field as a Chinese coolie—really better than a +Mexican." +</P> + +<P> +"It has been my observation," said the ex-professor, tackling the +boiled potatoes with a visible appetite, "that when a man quits the +scholarly pursuits he instinctively becomes an agriculturist. Business +is anathema to me; but I must confess that it gives me pleasure to +watch the germination of the seed, and to behold the flower and +fruitage of the soil." +</P> + +<P> +Imogene laughed. "It is the fruitage that I'm fond of—especially when +it is a bale to the acre. And it is going to make that this year or +more; I never saw a finer field of cotton." +</P> + +<P> +"It is doing very well," Chandler admitted with pride. "Yet, ah, +perhaps there is one field better, certainly as good, and that is the +American's north of here; the person you referred to as a fiddler." +</P> + +<P> +"Daddy," and under the tone of raillery was a trace of wistfulness, +"we've lived like Guinea Negroes here for three years, and yet I +believe you like it. I don't believe you'd go back right now as +professor of Sanskrit at Zion College." +</P> + +<P> +The little professor did not reply, but remarked as he held out the cup +for another pint of coffee: +</P> + +<P> +"I notice I sleep quite soundly out here, even when the weather is +excessively hot." +</P> + +<P> +The girl smiled and felt fully justified in the change she had forced +in his way of living. +</P> + +<P> +"I think," remarked Chandler, reflectively, "at the end of the month +I'll let Chang Lee go. I think I can some way manage the rest of the +season alone." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps," assented Imogene, soberly, as she began to pick up the +knives and forks and plates. She had not told him that when Chang +Lee's wages for June were paid it would leave them less than twenty +dollars to get through the summer on. "I've been learning to irrigate +the cotton rows and I can help," she said. "It will be a lot of fun." +</P> + +<P> +The ex-professor was vaguely troubled. He knew in a remote sort of way +that their finances were at a low ebb. Imogene always attended to the +business. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you suppose, daughter," he asked, troubled, "that it is practical +for us to continue in our present environment for another season?" +</P> + +<P> +"Surest thing, you know," she laughed reassuringly. "Run along now to +bed; you are tired." He sighed with a delicious sense of relief and +sleepiness, and went. +</P> + +<P> +But Imogene was not tired enough either to sit still or to sleep. She +got up and walked restlessly round the camp. Known problems and +unknown longings were stirring uneasily in her consciousness. +</P> + +<P> +She stood at the edge of the field where the long rows of cotton +plants, freshly watered, grew rank and green in the first intense heat +of summer. There was a full moon to-night—a hazy, sleepy full moon +with dust blown across its face creeping up over the eastern desert. +</P> + +<P> +Just a little while ago and it was all desert. Two years ago when they +first came this cotton field was uneven heaps of blown sand, desert +cactus, and mesquite—barren and forbidding as a nightmare of thirst +and want. It had taken a year's work and nearly all their meagre +capital to level it and dig the water ditches. And the next year—that +was last year—the crop was light and the price low. They had barely +paid their debts and saved a few hundred for their next crop. Now that +was gone, and with it six hundred, the last dollar she could borrow at +the bank. Just how they were going to manage the rest of the summer +she did not know. And worst of all were these vague but persistent +rumours and warnings that the ranchers were somehow to be robbed of +their crops. +</P> + +<P> +She turned and walked back into the yard of the little shack and stood +bareheaded looking at the moon, the desert wind in her face. Another +summer of heat was coming swiftly now. She had lived through two +seasons of that terrific heat when the sun blazed all day, day after +day, and the thermometer climbed and climbed until it touched the 130 +mark. And all these two years had been spent here at this shack, with +its dirt yard and isolation. +</P> + +<P> +The desert had bit deeply into her consciousness. Even the heat, the +wind-driven sand, the stillness, the aloneness of it had entered into +her soul with a sort of fascination. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not sorry," she shut her hands hard and pressed her lips close +together, "even if we do lose—but we must not lose! We can't go on in +poverty, either here or over there. We must not lose—we must not!" +</P> + +<P> +She turned her head sharply; something toward the road had moved; some +figure had appeared a moment and then disappeared. A fear that was +never wholly absent made her move toward the door of her own shack. A +revolver hung on a nail there. +</P> + +<P> +And then out on the night stole the singing, quivering note of a +violin. Instantly the fear was gone, the tension past, and the tears +for the first time in all the struggle slipped down her cheeks. She +knew now that for weeks she had been hoping he would come again. +</P> + +<P> +When the violin cords ceased to sing, Imogene clapped her hands warmly, +and the fiddler rose from beside a mesquite bush and came toward her. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad you brought it this time," she said as he approached and sat +down on a box a few feet away. "That was the best music I have heard +for years." +</P> + +<P> +"The best?" he questioned. +</P> + +<P> +She caught the meaning in his emphasis and smiled to herself as she +answered: "The best violin music." Although her face was in the +shadow, the moonlight was on her hair and shoulders. Something in her +figure affected him as it had that night when she stood in the +doorway—some heroic endurance, some fighting courage that held it +erect, and yet it was touched by a yearning as restless and unsatisfied +as the desert wind. Bob knew her father was incapable of grappling +alone with the problems of life. This project had all been hers; it +was her will, her brain, her courage that had wrought the change on the +face of this spot of desert. Yet how softly girlish as she sat there +in the moonlight; and how alone in the heart of this sleeping desert in +an alien country. He wished she had not qualified that praise of his +playing. Bob knew very little about women. +</P> + +<P> +"How do you like being a cotton planter?" She was first to break the +silence. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, very well." He turned his eyes from her for the first time, +looked down at his fiddle, and idly picked at one of the strings. "But +of course I can't truthfully say I love manual labour. I can do it +when there is something in it; but I much prefer a hammock and a shade +and a little nigger to fan me and bring me tall glasses full of iced +drinks." +</P> + +<P> +She laughed, for she knew already he had the reputation of being one of +the best workers in the valley. +</P> + +<P> +"But this country has me," he added. "It fascinates me. When I make a +fortune over here I'm going across on the American side and buy a big +ranch. +</P> + +<P> +"You know"—he continued softly to strum on the violin strings—"this +Imperial Valley seems to me like a magic spot of the tropics, some land +of fable. Richer than the valley of the Nile it has lain here beneath +the sea level for thousands of years, dead under the breath of the +desert, until a little trickle of water was turned in from the Colorado +River, and then it swiftly put forth such luxuriant wealth of food and +clothes and fruit and flowers that its story sounds like the demented +dreams of a bankrupt land promoter." +</P> + +<P> +"I am glad you like it," she said, "and I hope you'll get your share of +the fabled wealth that it is supposed to grow—and, oh, yes, by the +way, do you happen to need another Chinaman?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, I've got more than I can pay now." +</P> + +<P> +"We are going to let Chang Lee go the last of the month. He's a good +Chinaman, and I wanted him to have a job." +</P> + +<P> +"Why let him go?" +</P> + +<P> +"We won't need him." +</P> + +<P> +"Won't need him!" Bob exclaimed. "With a hundred and sixty acres of +cotton to irrigate and keep chopped out?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can do a lot of the irrigating"—the girl spoke a little +evasively—"and daddy can manage the rest." +</P> + +<P> +He knew this was another case of exhausted funds. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you borrow any more?" +</P> + +<P> +She laughed a frank confession. +</P> + +<P> +"You guessed it. We haven't money to pay him. I've borrowed six +hundred on the crop, and can't get another dollar." +</P> + +<P> +He sat silent for several minutes looking off toward the cotton fields +that would cry for water to-morrow in their fight against the eternal +desert that brooded over this valley, thinking of her pluck. It made +him ashamed of any wavering thought that ever scouted through his own +mind. +</P> + +<P> +He stood up. "And are you going to see it through?" +</P> + +<P> +Alone beside the field as the moon rose she had wavered in doubt; but +the answer came now with perfect assurance. +</P> + +<P> +"Most surely." +</P> + +<P> +"So am I," he said. "Good-night." +</P> + +<P> +But before he turned she put out her hand to touch his violin—her +fingers touched his hand instead. +</P> + +<P> +"Please—just once more," she asked. +</P> + +<P> +He laughed whimsically as he sat down on the box and drew the bow. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm proud of the human race," he said, "that fights for bread and +still looks at the stars." +</P> + +<P> +He began to play: he did not know what. It might have been something +he had heard; but anyway to-night it was his and hers, the song of the +rose that fought the desert all day for its life and then blossomed +with fragrance in the night. +</P> + +<P> +At the sound of the violin a man sitting on the edge of the canal by +the cottonwood trees stirred sharply. There was a guitar across his +knee. He had been waiting for the sound of voices to cease; and now +the accursed fiddle was playing again. He spat vindictively into the +stream. +</P> + +<P> +"Damn the Americano!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<P> +Bob saw as he turned into the Bungalow Court at El Centro a youngish +woman in white sitting on the second porch. In spite of the absence of +the weeds he recognized her as the widow who had come down the street +that other morning to meet Jim Crill. This, then, was Crill's place. +Evidently the twelve months of bereavement had elapsed, and Mrs. +Barnett, having done her full duty, felt that the ghost of her departed +could no longer have any just complaints if she wore a little white of +her own. +</P> + +<P> +Bob had come to see Crill. Since that evening with Imogene Chandler he +had worried a good deal about their being without money. He had tried +to get the ginning company that had advanced his own funds to make them +a loan. But everybody had grown wary and quit lending across the line. +Bob as a last resort had come up to see if Crill could be induced to +help. +</P> + +<P> +"Good morning." Rogeen lifted his straw hat as he stood on the first +step of the porch, and smiled. "Is Mr. Crill at home?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." Mrs. Barnett had nodded rather stiffly in response to his +greeting, and lifted her eyes questioningly. She was waiting for +someone else, and hence felt no cordiality for this stranger, whom she +dimly seemed to remember. +</P> + +<P> +"When will he be in?" The young man was obviously disappointed, and he +really was good to look at. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know exactly." Mrs. Barnett relented slightly, having glanced +down the road to be sure another machine was not coming. "But as I +attend to much of his business, perhaps if you will tell me what it is +you want I can arrange it for you. Won't you come up and have a chair?" +</P> + +<P> +Bob accepted the invitation, not that he intended to mention his +business to her, but he had a notion that Jim Crill was due to arrive +about lunch time. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you from the East?" That was Mrs. Barnett's idea of tactful +flattery. She asked it of all callers. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"What part, may I ask?" +</P> + +<P> +"All parts," he smiled, "east of here and west of the Mississippi." +</P> + +<P> +"It is so different here," Mrs. Barnett lifted her brows and raised her +eyes as though she were singing "The Lost Chord," "from what I am used +to." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," assented Bob, "it is different from what I am used to. That is +why I like it." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, do you?" Shocked disappointment in her tone implied that it was +too bad he was not a kindred spirit. "I find everything so crude; and +such loose standards here." A regretful shake of the head. "The women +especially"—she thought of her tact again—"seem to have forgotten all +the formalities and nice conventions of good society—if they ever +knew. I suppose most of them were hired girls and clerks before they +were married." +</P> + +<A NAME="img-092"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-092.jpg" ALT="Reedy Jenkins makes a proposition to Imogene." BORDER="2" WIDTH="637" HEIGHT="452"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 637px"> +Reedy Jenkins makes a proposition to Imogene. +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Bob made no comment. He did not know much about "nice formalities," +but it had struck him that the women of Imperial Valley were uncommonly +good, friendly human beings, and he had seen a number of college +diplomas scattered round the valley. +</P> + +<P> +"I heard of a woman recently," Mrs. Barnett went on, "who in the East +was in college circles; now she's living in a hut. Think of it, a hut +over on the other side among the Chinese and Mexicans! The only woman +there, and practically alone. It seems perfectly incredible! I don't +see how any decent woman could do a thing like that. Why, I'd rather +work in somebody's kitchen. There, at least, one could be respectable." +</P> + +<P> +Bob got up. +</P> + +<P> +"I guess I'll not wait longer for Mr. Crill," he said, and he went down +the steps, walking with rapid aversion. If Jim Crill left his business +to this female, he didn't want any of his money for the Chandlers. +</P> + +<P> +The ginning company had agreed to lend Bob up to $1,500 on the crop, +advancing it along as he needed it. He was renting his teams, and had +bought very little machinery, so he had managed to use less than his +estimate. On his way back to the ranch he stopped at the company's +office in Calexico, and drew two hundred dollars more on the loan. +</P> + +<P> +A few days later Rogeen, watching his opportunity, saw Chandler riding +alone toward town, and went out to the road and stopped him. After +some roundabout conversation Bob remarked: +</P> + +<P> +"By the way, a friend of mine has a little money he wants to lend to +cotton growers at 10 per cent. Do you suppose you would be able to use +a couple of hundreds of it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ahem!" The ex-professor ran a bony hand over a lean chin. "It is +extremely probable, young man, extremely probable. I am very much +inclined to think that I can—that is, provided he would esteem my +personal signature to a promissory note sufficient guarantee for the +payment of the indebtedness." +</P> + +<P> +"That will be entirely sufficient." Bob smiled reassuringly, and +pretended to write out—it was already prepared—a note. Chandler +signed, and Bob gave him two hundred dollars in currency. +</P> + +<P> +The next evening when Bob returned from the field he found a sealed +envelope on the little board table in his shack. It contained $100 in +currency and a note which read: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +You can't afford this loan; but we need the money so darned bad I'm +going to split it with you. I like the fiddle better than any musical +instrument that is made. +<BR><BR> +I. C. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Toward the last of June old cotton growers told Bob that his field was +sure to go a bale and a quarter an acre, and Chandler's was about as +good. +</P> + +<P> +On the twenty-sixth of June a Mexican officer came to the ranch and +arrested Rogeen's Chinese cook and one of his field hands. Bob offered +bail, but it was refused. The day following the remaining Chinaman was +arrested. +</P> + +<P> +Bob got other hands, but on July first all three of these were arrested. +</P> + +<P> +"I see," Bob said to himself, thinking it over that evening, "this is +the first of Jenkins' schemes. They are going to make Chinamen afraid +to work for me. Well, Noah and I can manage until I can hire some +Americans." +</P> + +<P> +At nine o'clock it was yet too hot to sleep, and Bob too restless to +sit still. He got up and started out to walk. Without any definite +intention he turned down the road south. He had gone about half a mile +and thought of turning back when he saw something in the road +ahead—something white. It was a woman, and she was running toward him. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<P> +Bob hastened to meet the figure in the road. He knew it was Imogene +Chandler, and that her haste meant she was either desperately +frightened or in great trouble. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that you, Mr. Rogeen?" She checked up and called to him fifty +yards away. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. What is the matter?" +</P> + +<P> +"I've been frightened three times in the last week." She caught her +breath. "A man hid in the weeds near the house, and his movements gave +me a scare; but I didn't think so much about it until Saturday night, +when I went out after dark to gather sticks for the breakfast cooking, +a man slipped from the shadow of the trees and spoke to me and I ran +and he followed me nearly to the house. I got my gun and shot at him. +</P> + +<P> +"But to-night," she gasped for breath again, "just as I was going from +papa's tent to my own, a man jumped out and grabbed me. I screamed and +he ran away." +</P> + +<P> +Bob put his hand on her arm. He felt it still quivering under his +fingers. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll walk back with you," he said in a quiet, reassuring tone. +</P> + +<P> +"Can you lend me a blanket?" he asked when they reached the Chandler +ranch. "And let me have your gun, I'll sleep out here to one side of +your tent." +</P> + +<P> +She protested, but without avail. +</P> + +<P> +Next morning when Bob returned to his own ranch he spoke to Noah +Ezekiel Foster. +</P> + +<P> +"Noah, this afternoon move your tent down to the Chandler ranch. Put +it up on the north side of Miss Chandler's so she will be between yours +and her father's. I'm going to town and I'll bring out a +double-barrelled riot shotgun that won't miss even in the dark. You +and that gun are going to sleep side by side." +</P> + +<P> +Noah Ezekiel grinned. +</P> + +<P> +Bob went to the shack, put his own pistol in his pocket, and rode off +to Calexico. +</P> + +<P> +Reedy Jenkins sat at his desk in shirt sleeves, his pink face a trifle +pasty as he sweated over a column of figures. He looked up annoyedly +as someone entered through the open door; and the annoyance changed to +surprise when he saw that it was Bob Rogeen. +</P> + +<P> +"I merely came in to tell you a story," said Bob as he dropped into a +chair and took a paper from the pocket of his shirt and held it in his +left hand. +</P> + +<P> +"This," Bob flecked the paper and spoke reminiscently, "is quite a +curiosity. I got it up near Blindon, Colorado. A bunch of rascals +jumped me one night when my back was turned. +</P> + +<P> +"Next day my friends hired an undertaker to take charge of my remains, +and made up money to pay him. This paper is the undertaker's receipt +for my funeral. +</P> + +<P> +"The rascals did not get either me or the cash they were after; but +they taught me a valuable lesson: never to have my back turned again." +</P> + +<P> +He stopped. +</P> + +<P> +"You see," went on Bob in a tone that did not suggest argument, "there +is a ranch over my way you happen to want—two of them, in fact. The +last week the lessees have both been much annoyed; the one on the south +one especially. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, of course, we can kill Madrigal and any other Mexican that keeps +up that annoyance. But instead, I suggest that you call them off. For +the Chandlers have fully made up their minds not to sell, and so have +I." +</P> + +<P> +Bob rose. "If anything further happens down there, I'm afraid there'll +be an accident on this side of the line. It was merely that you might +be prepared in advance that I dropped in this morning to make you a +present of this." He tossed the paper on Jenkins' desk and went out. +</P> + +<P> +Reedy picked up the receipt. The undertaker, after Rogeen's recovery, +had facetiously written on the back: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +This receipt is still good for one first-class funeral—and it is +negotiable. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Reedy felt all the sneer go out of his lips and a sort of coldness +steal along his sweaty skin. Underneath this writing was another line: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Transferred for value received to Reedy Jenkins. +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">BOB ROGEEN.</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<P> +It was five minutes after Bob Rogeen had gone out of the door before +Reedy Jenkins stirred in his chair. Then he gave his head a vicious +jerk and swiped the angling wisp of hair back from his forehead. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, hell! He can't bluff me." +</P> + +<P> +He sat gritting his teeth, remembering the insulting retorts he might +have made, slapped his thigh a whack with his open hand in vexation +that he had not made them; got up and walked the floor. +</P> + +<P> +No, he was not afraid of Rogeen, not by a damned sight. Afraid of a +twenty-dollar hardware clerk? <I>Not much!</I> He would show him he had +struck the wrong town and the wrong man for his cheap bluffs. And yet +Reedy kept remembering a certain expression in Rogeen's eye, a certain +taut look in his muscles. Of course a man of Reedy's reputation did +not want to be mixed up in any brawls. Whatever was done, should be +done smoothly—and safely. +</P> + +<P> +He telephoned for Madrigal, the Mexican Jew. Madrigal could manage it. +</P> + +<P> +While waiting for his agent, Reedy lighted a cigar, but became so +busily engaged with his thoughts that he forgot to puff until it went +out. Jenkins was taking stock of the situation. He had boasted of his +influence with the Mexican authorities; but like most boasters he was +talking about the influence he was going to have rather than what he +had. Just now he was not sure he had any pull across the line at all. +Of course as a great ranch owner and a very rich man—as he was going +to be inside of three years—he could have great influence. And yet he +remembered that the present Mexican Governor of Baja California was an +exceedingly competent man. He was shrewd and efficient, and deeply +interested in the development of his province. Moreover, he was +friendly to Americans, and seemed to have more than an ordinary sense +of justice toward them. +</P> + +<P> +Reedy shook his head. He did not believe he could have much chance +with the Governor—not at present, anyway. But perhaps some minor +official might help put over his schemes. Anyway, Madrigal would know. +</P> + +<P> +The Mexican Jew came directly, dressed in light flannels, a flower in +his buttonhole. Debonairly he lifted his panama and bowed with +exaggerated politeness to Jenkins. +</P> + +<P> +"What great good has Señor Reedy clabbering in his coco now?" He +grinned impudently. +</P> + +<P> +Jenkins frowned. His dignity was not to be so trifled with. +</P> + +<P> +"Sit down," he ordered. +</P> + +<P> +Reedy relighted his cigar, put his thumbs in his vest holes, and began +slowly puffing smoke toward the ceiling. He liked to keep his +subordinates waiting. +</P> + +<P> +"Madrigal," he said, directly, "I want those two ranches—Chandler's +and Rogeen's." +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Si, si.</I>" The Mexican nodded shrewdly. "And Señor Jenkins shall +have them." +</P> + +<P> +"We've got to get rid of Rogeen first. Then the other will be easy." +</P> + +<P> +"Et es so, señor," Madrigal said, warmly. He abated Rogeen on his own +account, for Señor Madrigal had formed a violent attachment for the +Señorita Chandler. And the damned Americano with his fiddle was in the +way. +</P> + +<P> +"If," suggested Reedy, smoking slowly, "Rogeen should be induced to +leave the country within three weeks—or in case he happened to some +accident so he could not leave at all—we'd make four thousand out of +his ranch. Half of that would be two thousand." +</P> + +<P> +Madrigal's black eyes narrowed wickedly, and his thick lips rolled up +under his long nose. +</P> + +<P> +"Mexico, señor, is the land of accidents." +</P> + +<P> +"All right, Madrigal," Reedy waved dismissal and turned to his desk and +began to figure—or pretend to figure. +</P> + +<P> +The Mexican turned in the door, looked back on the bulky form of +Jenkins, started to speak, grinned wickedly, and went down the outside +stairway. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +On the evening of the third of August Bob came in from the fields and +prepared his own supper. Since the arrest of his Chinamen a few weeks +before Rogeen had not employed any other help. The cotton cultivation +was over, and he and Noah could manage the irrigation. The hill billy +had gone to town early in the afternoon, and would return directly to +the Chandler ranch where he was still on guard at nights. Bob believed +his warning to Jenkins had stopped all further molestation, but he was +not willing to take any chances—at least not with Imogene Chandler. +</P> + +<P> +Bob had been irrigating all day and was dead tired. After supper he +sat in front of his shack as usual to cool a little before turning in. +The day had been the hottest of the summer, and now at eight o'clock it +was still much over a hundred. +</P> + +<P> +In that heat there is little life astir even in the most luxuriant +fields. It was still to-night—scarcely the croak of a frog or the +note of a bird. There was no moon, but in the deep, vast, clear spaces +of the sky the stars burned like torches held down from the heavens. A +wind blew lightly, but hot off the fields. The weeds beside the +ditches shook slitheringly, and the dry grass roof of the shack rustled. +</P> + +<P> +To be the centre of stillness, to be alone in a vast space, either +crushes one with loneliness or gives him an unbounded exhilaration. +To-night Bob felt the latter sensation. It seemed instead of being a +small, lost atom in a swirling world, he was a part of all this lambent +starlight; this whispering air of the desert. +</P> + +<P> +He breathed slowly and deeply of the dry, clean wind, rose, and +stretched his tired muscles, and turned in. So accustomed had he +become to the heat that scarcely had he stretched out on the cot before +he was asleep. And Bob was a sound sleeper. The sides of the shack +were open above a three-foot siding of boards, open save for a mosquito +netting. An old screen door was set up at the front, but Bob had not +even latched that. If one was in danger out here, he was simply in +danger, that was all, for there was no way to hide from it. +</P> + +<P> +A little after midnight two Mexicans crept along on all-fours between +the cotton rows at the edge of Bob's field. At the end of the rows, +fifty yards from the shack, they crouched on their haunches and +listened. The wind shook the tall rank cotton and rustled the weeds +along the ditches. But no other sound. Nothing was stirring anywhere. +</P> + +<P> +Bending low and walking swiftly they slipped toward the back of the +shack. Their eyes peered ahead and they slipped with their hearts in +their throats, trusting the Americano was asleep. +</P> + +<P> +He was. As they crouched low behind the shelter of the three-foot wall +of boards they could hear his breathing. He was sound asleep. +</P> + +<P> +Slowly, on hands and knees, they crawled around the west side toward +the entrance. In the right hand of the one in front was the dull glint +of a knife. The other held a revolver. +</P> + +<P> +Cautiously the one ahead tried the screen door—pushing it open an inch +or two. It was unlatched. Motioning for the other to stand by the +door, he arose, pushed the door back with his left hand very slowly so +as not to make a squeak. In the right he held the knife. +</P> + +<P> +Bob stirred in his sleep and turned on the cot. The Mexican stood +motionless, ready to spring either way if he awoke. But the steady +breathing of a sound sleeper began again. +</P> + +<P> +The Mexican let the door to softly and took one quick step toward the +bed. +</P> + +<P> +Then with a wild, blood-curdling yell he fell on the floor. Something +from above had leaped on him, something that enveloped him, that +grappled with him. He went down screaming and stabbing like a madman. +His companion at the door fired one shot in the air, dropped his gun, +and ran as if all the devils in hell were after him. +</P> + +<P> +The commotion awoke Bob. Instantly he sat up in bed, and as he rose he +reached for a gun with one hand and a flashlight with the other. In an +instant the light was in the Mexican's face—and the gun also. +</P> + +<P> +"Hold up your hands, Madrigal." Bob's tone brought swift obedience. +Around the Mexican and on him were the ripped and torn fragments of a +dummy man—made of a sack of oats, with flapping arms and a tangle of +ropes. Bob had not felt sure but some attempt might be made on his +life, and half in jest and half as a precaution, he and Noah had put +this dummy overhead with a trip rope just inside the door. They knew +the fright of something unexpected falling on an intruder would be more +effective than a machine gun. +</P> + +<P> +"Get up," Bob ordered, and the shaken Madrigal staggered to his feet, +with his hands held stiffly straight up. "March out." Rogeen's +decision had come quickly. He followed with the gun in close proximity +to the Mexican's back. +</P> + +<P> +Madrigal was ordered to pick up a hoe and a shovel, and then was +marched along the water ditch toward the back of the field. +</P> + +<P> +"Here." Bob ordered a stop. They were half a mile from the road, at +the edge of the desert. The Mexican had recovered enough from his +first fright to feel the cold clutch of another, surer danger. "Dig," +ordered Bob. And the Mexican obeyed. "About two feet that way." Bob +sat down on the bank of the water ditch and kept the digger covered. +"Make it seven feet long," he ordered, coldly. +</P> + +<P> +Slowly Madrigal dug and shovelled, and slowly but surely as the thing +took shape, he saw what it was—a grave. His grave! +</P> + +<P> +He glared wildly about as he paused for a breath. +</P> + +<P> +"Hurry," came the insistent command. +</P> + +<P> +Another shovelful, and he glanced up at the light. But the muzzle of +the gun was level with the light! A wrong move and he knew the thing +would be over even before the grave was done. +</P> + +<P> +For an hour he worked. Off there at the edge of the desert, this grave +levelled as a part of the cotton field—and no one would ever find it. +His very bones seemed to sweat with horror. Was the American going to +bury him alive? Or would he shoot him first? +</P> + +<P> +All the stealth and cruelty he had ever felt toward others now turned +in on himself, and a horror that filled him with blind, wild terror of +that hollow grave shook him until he could no longer dig. He stood +there in front of the flashlight blanched and shaking. +</P> + +<P> +"That will do," said Rogeen. "Madrigal," he put into that word all the +still terror of a cool courage, "that is your grave." +</P> + +<P> +For a full moment he paused. "You will stay out of it just as long as +you stay off my land—out of reach of my gun. Don't ever even pass the +road by my place. +</P> + +<P> +"Your boss has had his warning. This is yours. That grave will stay +open, day and night, waiting for you. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-night, Señor Madrigal. Go fast and don't look back." +</P> + +<P> +The last injunction was entirely superfluous. +</P> + +<P> +After the night had swallowed up the fleeing figure Bob rolled on the +bank and laughed until his ribs ached. +</P> + +<P> +"No more oat sacks for Señor Madrigal! I wonder who the other one +was—and what became of him?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H3> + +<P> +It was October. The bolls had opened beautifully. The cotton was +ready to pick. As Bob and Noah walked down the rows the stalks came up +to their shoulders. It was the finest crop of cotton either of them +had ever seen. +</P> + +<P> +"As dad used to say," remarked Noah Ezekiel, "the fields are white for +the harvest, but where are the reapers?" There was no one in the +fields at work. +</P> + +<P> +Bob shook his head gloomily. "I have no money for the pickers. I owe +you, Noah, for the last two months." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I remember it," said the hill billy, plucking an extra large boll +of lint. "I've tried to forget it, but somehow those things sort of +stick in a fellow's mind." +</P> + +<P> +In August the great war had broke in Europe. +</P> + +<P> +Ships were rushing with war supplies, blockades declared, factories +shut down. The American stock exchanges had closed to save a panic. +Buying and selling almost ceased. Money scuttled to the cover of +safety vaults, and the price of cotton had dropped and dropped until +finally it ceased to sell at all. +</P> + +<P> +"It is going to bankrupt almost every grower in the valley," remarked +Bob. "I'm certainly sorry for the Chandlers. They're up against it +hard." +</P> + +<P> +"As the poet says," Noah Ezekiel drew down the corners of his mouth, +pulling a long face, "ain't life real?" +</P> + +<P> +Bob laughed in spite of troubles. "Noah, I believe you'd joke at your +own funeral." +</P> + +<P> +"Why shouldn't I?" said Noah. "You joked with your undertaker's +receipt." He grinned at the recollection of that event. "You sure +broke that yellow dog Jenkins from suckin' eggs—temporarily." +</P> + +<P> +"But ain't he stuck with his leases though. If I had as much money as +he owes, I could fix these gamblers at the Red Owl so they wouldn't +have to work any for the rest of their natural lives." +</P> + +<P> +"Noah," Bob turned to his faithful foreman, "I want you to stick until +we put this thing through. I'll see you don't lose a dollar." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you worry about me sticking," said Noah Ezekiel. "I never quit +a man as long as he owes me anything." +</P> + +<P> +The loyalty of the hill billy touched Rogeen, but as is the way of men, +he covered it up with a brusque tone. +</P> + +<P> +"You get the sacks ready. I'm going in to town and raise the money +somehow to pick this cotton. I'll pick it if I never get a dollar out +of it—can't bear to see a crop like that go to waste." +</P> + +<P> +The cotton-gin people were in a desperate panic, but Bob went after +them hard: +</P> + +<P> +"Now see here, that war in Europe is not going to end the world; and as +long as the world stands there will be a demand for cotton. This +flurry will pass, and there's sure to be a big jump in the market for +cotton seed. The war will increase the demand for oils of all kinds. +</P> + +<P> +"That cotton has got to be picked, and you'll have to furnish the +money. When it is ginned you can certainly borrow five cents a pound +on it. That will pay for the water and the lease, the picking and the +ginning—and the duty, too. +</P> + +<P> +"Now you get the money for me to pick my field and Chandler's field. +They owe only $600 on the crop; so you'll be even safer there than with +me. We'll leave the cotton with you as security. And then after you +have borrowed all you can on it, I'll give you my personal note for all +the balance I owe, and see you get every dollar of it, if I have to +work it out during the next three years at twenty dollars a week." +</P> + +<P> +It was that promise that turned the scales. No man of discernment +could look at Rogeen and doubt either his pluck or his honesty. +</P> + +<P> +Two days later forty Chinamen, more eager for jobs now than ever, were +picking cotton at the Chandler and Rogeen ranches—twenty at each place. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Tom Barton went up the outside stairway thumping each iron step +viciously. Six months of gloomy forebodings had terminated even more +disastrously than he had feared. He found Reedy Jenkins rumpled and +unshaven, laboriously figuring at his desk. +</P> + +<P> +Reedy looked up with a sly-dog sort of smile. There were little rims +of red round his eyes, but it was plain he had something new to spring +on his creditor. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not figuring debts"—Jenkins reached in the drawer and got out a +cigar and lighted it—"but profits." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Barton, murderously, "that is what you are always figuring +on. Debts don't mean anything to you, because you aren't worth a damn. +But debts count with me. You owe me $40,000 on this bright idea of +yours, and your leases aren't worth a tadpole in Tahoe." +</P> + +<P> +"Easy, easy!" Reedy waved his hand as though getting ready to make a +speech. "Perhaps I have temporarily lost my credit; but with a +requisite amount of cash, a man can always get it back—or do without +it. +</P> + +<P> +"I admit this damn war has swamped me. I admit on the face of the +returns I am snowed under—bankrupt to the tune of over $200,000. But +nevertheless and notwithstanding I am going to get away with some coin." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I hope you don't get away with mine," growled Barton. +</P> + +<P> +A laundry driver entered the door with a bill in his hand. Reedy grew +a little redder and waved at the man angrily. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't bother me with that now; don't you see I'm busy?" +</P> + +<P> +"So am I," said the driver, aggressively, "and this is the third call." +</P> + +<P> +"Leave it," said Jenkins, angrily, "and I'll have my secretary send you +a check for it." +</P> + +<P> +The driver threw it on Reedy's desk and left sullenly. Barton caught +the figures on the unpaid bill—seventy-eight cents. +</P> + +<P> +"I admit," Barton spoke sarcastically as he started for the door, "that +your credit is gone. But if you don't dig up that forty thousand, +you'll be as sorry you ever borrowed it as I am that I lent it." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The last of November Bob went down to the Chandler ranch to give an +account of the cotton picking. +</P> + +<P> +"You have 150 bales at the compress. I put up the compress receipts +for the debts," said Bob to Imogene. "There is $3,123 against your +cotton. I could not borrow another dollar on it." +</P> + +<P> +"You have done so much for us already," the girl said, feelingly. "And +we'll get along some way. If cotton would only begin to sell, we would +have a little fortune." +</P> + +<P> +"I have 180 bales," said Bob, "but I owe something over $4,000 on it. +I am going up to Calexico and get a job until spring." He hesitated a +moment, looking at the girl thoughtfully. The summer and hard work and +constant worry had left her thin and with a look of anxiety in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Hadn't you also better move to town?" +</P> + +<P> +She laughed at that. "Why, dear sir, what do you suppose we should +live on in town? Out here we have no rent and can at least raise some +vegetables. No, we'll stick it out until we see whether this war is +merely a flurry or a deluge." +</P> + +<P> +For a week Bob hunted a job in Calexico. His need for funds was acute. +He had managed to get enough on his cotton to pay all his labour bills +but had not kept a dollar for himself. +</P> + +<P> +Tuesday evening he had gone up to his room at the hotel, a court room +with one window and broken plaster and a chipped water pitcher. There +was no job in sight. Everything was at a standstill, and the cotton +market looked absolutely hopeless. His note for the $4,000 fell due +January first. If he could not sell the cotton by that time, his +creditors would take it over; and besides, he was held for any amount +of the debt above what the cotton would bring at a forced sale. +</P> + +<P> +He was bluer than he had been since he lost that first good job nine +years ago. He went to the battered old trunk, opened the lid, and +lifted the fiddle; stood with it in his hands a moment, put it against +his shoulder and raised the bow. He was thinking of her, the girl left +alone down there on the ranch—still fighting it out with the desert, +the Mexicans, and the trailing calamities of this World War. He +dropped the bow, he could not play. And just as he was returning the +fiddle to his trunk there was a knock followed by the opening of the +door. A chambermaid's head pushed in. +</P> + +<P> +"There's a man down in the office wants to see you," announced the girl. +</P> + +<P> +"Who is it?" asked Bob. +</P> + +<P> +"Dunno—old fellow with eyebrows like a hair brush—and a long linen +duster." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll be right down," said Bob. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Jim Crill was sitting in a corner of the hotel office when Rogeen came +down; and he motioned to Bob to take the chair beside him. +</P> + +<P> +"Notice a cotton gin being built across the line?" the old gentleman +asked, crossing his legs and thrusting his hands into his trousers +pockets. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," Bob nodded. "I wondered if you had." +</P> + +<P> +"Reckon I have," remarked Crill, dryly. "I'm puttin' up the money for +it." +</P> + +<P> +"You are?" Bob was surprised. This upset his suspicions in regard to +that gin. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; don't you think it's a good investment?" The old gentleman's +keen blue eyes looked searchingly from under the shaggy brows at Rogeen. +</P> + +<P> +"Lots of cotton raised over there," Bob answered, noncommittally. "And +the Mexicans really ought to have a gin on their side of the line." +</P> + +<P> +The old gentleman cleared his throat as though about to say something +else; and then changed his mind and sat frowning in silence so long Bob +wondered why he had sent for him. +</P> + +<P> +"Lots of cotton raisers 'll go broke this fall." Crill broke the +silence abruptly. +</P> + +<P> +"Already are," replied Bob. +</P> + +<P> +"Know what it means." The old gentleman jerked his head up and down. +"Hauled my last bale of five-cent cotton to the store many a time, and +begged 'em to let the rest of my bill run another year. That was +before I ran the store myself; and then struck oil on a patch of Texas +land. Haven't got as much money as folks think but too much to let lie +around idle. Think this valley is a good place to invest, don't you?" +Again the searching blue eyes peered at the young man. +</P> + +<P> +"I certainly do," answered Bob with conviction. "The soil is +bottomless; it will grow anything and grow it all the year." +</P> + +<P> +"If it gets water," added the old gentleman. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course—but we had plenty of water this year. And," went on Bob, +"this war is not going to smash the cotton market forever. It's going +to smash most of us who have no money to hold on with. But next spring +or next summer or a year after, sooner or later, prices will begin to +climb. The war will decrease production more than it will consumption. +The war demands will send the price of wool up, and when wool goes up +it pulls cotton along with it. Cotton will go to twenty cents, maybe +more." +</P> + +<P> +"That sounds like sense." The old gentleman nodded slowly. "And it is +the fellow that is a year ahead that gets rich on the rise; and the +fellow a year behind that gets busted on the drop in prices." +</P> + +<P> +"There are going to be some fortunes made in raising cotton over +there," Bob nodded toward the Mexican line, "in the next four years +that will sound like an Arabian Nights' tale of farming. +</P> + +<P> +"I figured it out this summer. That land is all for lease; it is +level, it is rich. They get water cheaper than we do on this side; and +I can get Chinese help, which is the best field labour in the world, +for sixty-five cents to a dollar a day. I was planning before this +smash came to plant six hundred acres of cotton next year." +</P> + +<P> +"That's what I wanted to see you about," said Crill. "Want to lend +some money over there, and you are the fellow to do it. Want to lend +it to fellows you can trust on their honour without any mortgages. +Guess mortgages over there aren't much account anyway. +</P> + +<P> +"Want to keep the cotton industry up here in the valley. May want to +start a cotton mill myself. Anyway," he added, belligerently, "a lot +of 'em are about to lose their cotton crops; and this is a good time to +stick 'em for a stiff rate of interest. Charge 'em 10 per cent—and +half the cotton seed. I'm no philanthropist." +</P> + +<P> +Bob smiled discreetly at the fierceness. That was the usual rate for +loans on the Mexican side. And it was very reasonable considering the +risk. +</P> + +<P> +"Want to hire you," said the old man, "to lend money on cotton—and +collect it. What you want a month?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll do it for $150 a month," answered Bob, "if it does not interfere +with my own cotton growing next spring." +</P> + +<P> +"We can fix that," agreed the old man. +</P> + +<P> +"I think," replied Bob, "the best loans and the greatest help would be +just now on the cotton already baled and at the compress. Most of the +growers have debts for leases and water and supplies and borrowed money +against their cotton, and cannot sell it at any price. Unless they do +sell or can borrow on it by January first, these debts will take the +cotton. If you would lend them six cents a pound on their compress +receipts that would put most of them in the clear, and enable them to +hold on a few months for a possible rise in price." +</P> + +<P> +"That's your business." The old gentleman got up briskly. "I'll put +$25,000 to your credit in the morning at the International Bank. It's +your job to lend it. When it's gone, let me know." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, by the way," Bob's heart had been beating excitedly through all +this arrangement, but he had hesitated to ask what was on his mind. +"Do you mind if—if I lend myself five cents a pound on 180 bales?" +</P> + +<P> +The old man turned and glared at him fiercely. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you reckon I'd trust you to lend to others if I didn't trust you +myself? Make the loans, then explain the paper afterward." +</P> + +<P> +Next morning Bob bought a second-hand automobile for two hundred and +fifty dollars and gave his note for it. It was not much of an +automobile, but it was of the sort that always comes home. +</P> + +<P> +Rogeen headed straight south, and in less than an hour stopped at the +Chandler ranch. +</P> + +<P> +Imogene was under the shade of the arrow-weed roof, reading a magazine. +Rogeen felt a quick thrill as he saw her flush slightly as she came out +to meet him. +</P> + +<P> +"What means the gasolene chariot?" she asked. "Prosperity or mere +recklessness?" +</P> + +<P> +"Merely hopefulness," he answered. "I brought a paper for you. Sign +on the dotted line." He handed her a promissory note, due in six +months, for $4,500. +</P> + +<P> +"What is this?" She had been living so long on a few dollars at a time +that the figures sounded startling. +</P> + +<P> +"I've got a loan on your cotton," replied Bob with huge satisfaction. +"And you can have it as soon as you and your father have signed the +note." +</P> + +<P> +"Good heavens!" The blood had left her face. "You are not joking, are +you? Why, man alive, that means that we live! It will give us $1,400 +above the debts." +</P> + +<P> +Bob felt a choking in his throat. The pluckiness of the girl! And +that he could bring her relief! "Yes, and I'm going to take you back +to town, where you can pay off the debts and get your money." +</P> + +<P> +The exuberant gayety that broke over the girl's spirits as they +returned to town moved Bob deeply. What a long, hard pull she and her +father had had; no wonder the unexpected relief sent her spirits on the +rebound. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank the Lord," he said, fervently, to himself, "for that sharp old +man with bushy eyebrows!" +</P> + +<P> +As they drove up to the International Bank where Bob had asked the +compress company to send all the bills against the Chandler cotton, +another machine was just driving away and a woman was entering the bank. +</P> + +<P> +"By the great horn spoon," Bob exclaimed aloud, "that is Mrs. Barnett." +</P> + +<P> +"Who is Mrs. Barnett?" Imogene Chandler asked archly. "Some special +friend of yours?" +</P> + +<P> +"Hardly," Bob replied, remembering that Miss Chandler knew neither Jim +Crill nor his niece. +</P> + +<P> +"And the man who was driving away," said Imogene, "was Reedy Jenkins." +</P> + +<P> +"It was?" Bob turned quickly. "Are you sure? I was watching the woman +and did not notice the machine." +</P> + +<A NAME="img-124"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-124.jpg" ALT="A mutual discovery--they both cared." BORDER="2" WIDTH="635" HEIGHT="453"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 635px"> +A mutual discovery—they both cared. +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +As they entered the bank Mrs. Barnett, dressed in a very girlish +travelling suit, was standing by the check counter as though waiting. +At sight of Bob she nodded and smiled reservedly. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Mr. Rogeen," she arched her brows and called to him as he started +to the cashier's window with Imogene Chandler. +</P> + +<P> +Bob excused himself and approached her, a little uneasy and decidedly +annoyed. Her mouth was simpering, but her eyes had that sharp, +predatory look he had seen before. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Rogeen," she began in a cool, ladylike voice, "my uncle told me of +the arrangement he had made with you and asked me to O. K. all the +loans before you make them." +</P> + +<P> +"Is that so?" Bob felt a mingling of wrath and despair. "He did not +say anything to me about it." +</P> + +<P> +"N-o?"—questioningly—"we talked it over last night, and he felt sure +this would be the better plan." +</P> + +<P> +Bob hesitated for a moment. Imogene had gone to the other note +counter, and was trying idly not to be aware of the conversation. It +would be utterly too cruel to disappoint her now. It went against the +grain, but Rogeen swallowed his resentment and distaste. +</P> + +<P> +"All right," he nodded brightly. "I've got one loan already for you." +He drew the papers from his pocket. "It is six cents on 150 bales of +cotton now in the yards. Here are the compress receipts." +</P> + +<P> +"Whom is this for?" Her eyes looked at him challengingly; her lips +shaped the words accusingly. +</P> + +<P> +"To Miss Chandler and her father." Bob felt himself idiotically +blushing. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Barnett's face took on the frozen look of a thousand generations +of damning disapprobation. +</P> + +<P> +"No! Not one cent to that woman. Uncle and I don't care to encourage +that sort." +</P> + +<P> +For a moment Bob stood looking straight into the frigid face of Mrs. +Barnett. It was the first time in his life he would have willingly +sacrificed his personal pride for money. He would have done almost +anything to get that money for Imogene Chandler. But it was useless to +try to persuade the widow that she was wrong. Back of her own +narrowness was Reedy Jenkins. This was Reedy's move; he was using the +widow's vanity and personal greed for his own ends; and his ends were +the destruction of Rogeen and the capitulation of Miss Chandler. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Barnett's eyes met his defiantly, but her mouth quivered a little +nervously. A doubt flashed through his mind. Was she authorized to do +this? Surely she would not dare take such authority without her +uncle's consent. He might telephone, anyway, then a more direct +resolution followed swiftly. He turned away from Mrs. Barnett and went +to the cashier's window. +</P> + +<P> +"Did Jim Crill deposit $25,000 here subject to my check?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"He did," replied the cashier. +</P> + +<P> +"Are there any strings to it?" +</P> + +<P> +"None," responded the cashier promptly. +</P> + +<P> +Without so much as glancing toward the widow, who had watched this move +with a venomous suspicion, Bob went to Miss Chandler by the desk and +took the papers from his pocket, and laid them before her. +</P> + +<P> +"Indorse the compress receipts over to Mr. Crill." +</P> + +<P> +Then he wrote two checks—one to the bank for $3,123 to pay off all the +claims against the Chandler cotton and one to Imogene for $1,377. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't know, Mr. Rogeen," she started to say in a low, tense voice +as she took the check, "how much——" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't need to," he smilingly interrupted her gratitude, "for it +isn't my money. I'll see you at lunch; and then take you back home in +my car." He lifted his hat and turned back to the counter where Mrs. +Barnett stood loftily, disdainfully, yet furiously angry. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," said Bob, casually, "I've made one loan, anyway." +</P> + +<P> +"It will be your last." Mrs. Barnett clutched her hands vindictively. +"You'll be discharged as quick as I get to Uncle Jim." +</P> + +<P> +Bob really expected he would, but not for three jobs would he have +recalled that loan and the light of relief in Imogene Chandler's eyes. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI +</H3> + +<P> +Mrs. Barnett went direct from the bank to Reedy Jenkins' office. As +she climbed the outside stairway she was so angry she forgot to watch +to see that her skirts did not lift above her shoe tops. As she +entered the door her head was held as high and stiff as though she had +been insulted by a disobedient cook. White showed around her mouth and +the base of her nose, and her nostrils were dilated. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Mrs. Barnett!" Reedy arose with an oratorical gesture. "What a +pleasant surprise. Have a chair." +</P> + +<P> +She took the chair he placed for her without a word and her right hand +clutched the wrist of the left. She was breathing audibly. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you see Rogeen?" Jenkins suggested suavely. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." The tone indicated that total annihilation should be the end of +that unworthy creature. But her revenge, like Reedy's expectations, +was in the future. She hated to confess this. She breathed hard +twice. "And I'll show him whose word counts." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't mean," Reedy swiped his left hand roughly at the wisp of +hair on his forehead, "that he disregarded your wishes?" +</P> + +<P> +"He certainly did." Indignation was getting the better of her voice. +"The low-lived—the contemptible—common person. And he insulted me +with that—that creature." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, of all the gall!" Reedy was quite as indignant as Mrs. Barnett, +for very different if more substantial reasons. He had seen more and +more that a fight with Rogeen was ahead, a fight to the finish; and the +further he went the larger that fight looked. The easiest way to smash +a man, Reedy had found, was to deprive him of money. A man can't carry +out many schemes unless he can get hold of money. Jenkins had kept a +close eye on Jim Crill, and had grown continually more uneasy lest the +old chap become too favourably impressed with Rogeen. He had early +sensed the old man's weak spot—one of them—Crill hated to be +pestered. That was the vulnerable side at which Evelyn Barnett, the +niece, could jab. And Reedy had planned all her attacks. This last +move of Crill's—hiring Rogeen to lend money for him, had alarmed Reedy +more than anything that had happened. For it would give Rogeen a big +influence on the Mexican side. Most of the ranchers needed to borrow +money, and it would put the man on whose word the loans would be made +in mighty high favour. To offset this, Reedy had engineered an attack +by Mrs. Barnett on the old gentleman's leisure. She had worried him +and nagged him with the argument that he ought not to bother with a lot +of business details, but should turn them over to her. She would see +to the little things for him. He had reluctantly granted some sort of +consent to this, a consent which Evelyn had construed meant blanket +authority. +</P> + +<P> +"He flatly refused," Mrs. Barnett was still thinking blisteringly of +Bob Rogeen, "to obey my wishes in the matter. I told him plainly," she +bit her lips again, "that neither Uncle nor I would consent to money +being furnished women like that." +</P> + +<P> +"I should say not." Reedy agreed with unctuous righteousness in his +plump face. "And to think of that scalawag, making a loan right in +your face, after you had vetoed it." +</P> + +<P> +"He'll never make another." Mrs. Barnett's lips would have almost bit +a thread in two. "Just wait until I get to Uncle Jim!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll drive you up," said Reedy. He reached to the top of the desk for +his hat. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," remarked Reedy on the way, "your uncle is very generous to +want to help these fellows across the line that are broke. But they +are riff-raff. He will lose every dollar of it. I know them. Good +Lord! haven't I befriended them, and helped them fifty ways? And do +they appreciate it? Well, I should say not!" +</P> + +<P> +"The more you do for people the less they appreciate it," said Mrs. +Barnett still in a bitter mood. +</P> + +<P> +"Some people," corrected Reedy. "There are a few, a very few, who +never forget a favour." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, that is true," assented the widow, and began to relent in her +mind, seeing how kind was Mr. Jenkins. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm very sorry," continued Reedy, frowning, "that your uncle has taken +up this fellow. I've been looking up Rogeen's past—and he is no good, +absolutely no good. Been a drifter all his life. Never had a hundred +dollars of his own. +</P> + +<P> +"By the way," Reedy suddenly remembered a coincidence in regard to that +undertaker's receipt, "where was it your husband lost the sale of that +mine?" +</P> + +<P> +"At Blindon, Colorado." +</P> + +<P> +"By George!" Reedy released the wheel with the right hand and slapped +his leg. "I thought so. Do you know who that young man with the +fiddle was who ruined your fortune?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." Evelyn Barnett came around sharply. +</P> + +<P> +"Bob Rogeen—that fellow who insulted you this morning." +</P> + +<P> +"No? Not really?" Angry incredulity. +</P> + +<P> +Reedy nodded. "As I told you, I've been looking up his past. And I +got the story straight." +</P> + +<P> +"The vile scoundrel!" Mrs. Barnett said, bitterly. "And to think Uncle +would trust him with his money." +</P> + +<P> +"We must stop it," said Reedy. "It isn't right that your uncle should +be fleeced by this rascal." +</P> + +<P> +"He shan't be!" declared Mrs. Barnett, gritting her teeth. +</P> + +<P> +"There are too many really worthy investments," added Reedy. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll see that this is the last money that man gets," Mrs. Barnett +asseverated. +</P> + +<P> +"Your uncle is a little bull headed, isn't he?" suggested Reedy, +cautiously. "Better be careful how you approach him." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I'll manage him, never fear," she said positively. +</P> + +<P> +Jenkins set Mrs. Barnett down at the entrance to the bungalow court. +He preferred that Jim Crill should not see him with her. It might lead +him to think Reedy was trying to influence her. +</P> + +<P> +As Mrs. Barnett stalked up the steps, Jim Crill was sitting on the +porch in his shirt sleeves, smoking. +</P> + +<P> +"How are you feeling, dear?" she asked, solicitously. +</P> + +<P> +"Ain't feelin'," Crill grunted—"I'm comfortable." +</P> + +<P> +Evelyn sank into a chair, held her hands, and sighed. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, dear, it is so lonely since poor Tom Barnett died." +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Jim puffed on—he had some faint knowledge of the poor deceased +Tom. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know, Uncle Jim, I made a discovery to-day. The man who kept +my poor husband from making a fortune was that person." +</P> + +<P> +"What person?" growled the old chap looking straight ahead. +</P> + +<P> +"That Rogeen person you are trusting your money to." +</P> + +<P> +Jim Crill bit his pipe stem to hide a dry grin. He had often heard the +story of the bursted mine sale. He had some suspicions, knowing +Barnett, of what the mine really was. +</P> + +<P> +"And, Uncle Jim, of course you won't keep him. Besides, he insulted me +this morning." +</P> + +<P> +"How?" It was another grunt. +</P> + +<P> +Evelyn went into the painful details of her humiliation at the bank. +"When she got through Uncle Jim turned sharply in his chair. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you do that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Do what?" gasped Evelyn. +</P> + +<P> +"Try to interfere with his loans?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, why, yes." She was aghast at the tone, ready to shed protective +tears. "Didn't you tell me—wasn't I to have charge of the little +things?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, hell!" Uncle Jim burst out. "Little things, yes—about the house +I meant. Not my business. Dry up that sobbing now—and don't monkey +any more with my business." +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Jim got up and stalked off downtown. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII +</H3> + +<P> +Early one morning in March Bob picked Noah Ezekiel Foster up at a lunch +counter where the hill billy was just finishing his fourth waffle. +</P> + +<P> +"Want you to go out and look at two or three leases with me," said +Rogeen as they got into the small car. +</P> + +<P> +Bob had not lost his job with Crill over the Chandler loan. He was +still lending the old gentleman's money and doing it without Mrs. +Barnett's approval. But the widow had, he felt sure, done the moist, +self-sacrificing, nagging stunt so persistently that her uncle had +compromised by advancing much more money to Reedy Jenkins than safety +justified. Crill had never mentioned the matter, but Bob knew Jenkins +had got money from somewhere, and there certainly was no one else in +the valley that would have lent it to him. For Reedy had managed to +pick his cotton and gin it at the new gin on the Mexican side, where +the bales were still stacked in the yards. +</P> + +<P> +"Why do you suppose," asked Bob as they drove south past the Mexican +gin, "Jenkins has left his cotton over on this side all winter?" Bob +had formulated his own suspicions but wanted to learn what Noah Ezekiel +thought, for Noah picked up a lot of shrewd information. +</P> + +<P> +"Shucks," said Noah, "it's so plain that a way-farin' man though a +cotton grower can see. He's kept it over there because he owes about +three hundred thousand dollars on the American side, and as quick as he +takes it across the line there'll be about as many fellows pullin' at +every bale as there are ahold of them overall pants you see advertised." +</P> + +<P> +"But cotton is selling now; it was six cents yesterday," remarked Bob. +"At that he ought to have enough to pay his debts." +</P> + +<P> +Noah Ezekiel snorted: "Reedy isn't livin' to pay his debts. He ain't +hankerin' for receipts; what he wants is currency. His creditors on +the American side are layin' low, because they can't do anything else. +Reedy put one over on 'em when he built this gin. He can hold his +cotton over here for high prices, and let them that he owes on the +American side go somewhere and whistle in a rain barrel to keep from +gettin' dry. +</P> + +<P> +"As my dad used to say, 'The children of this world can give the +children of light four aces and still take the jack pot with a pair of +deuces.'" +</P> + +<P> +Bob knew Noah was right. He had watched Jenkins pretty closely all +winter. Reedy had endeavoured to convince all his creditors, and +succeeded in convincing some, that he had not brought the cotton across +the line because there was no market yet for it. "It is costing us +nothing to leave it over there, so why bring it across and have to pay +storage and also lose the interest on the $25,000 Mexican export duty +which we must pay when it is removed?" +</P> + +<P> +"Noah," remarked Bob, as the little car bumped across the bridge over +the irrigation ditch, "I'm taking you out to see a Chinaman's lease. +He has three hundred acres ready to plant and wants to borrow money to +raise the crop. If you like the field and I like the Chinaman, I'm +going to make the loan." +</P> + +<P> +"Accordin' to my observation," remarked Noah, "a heathen Chinese has +about all the virtues that a Christian ought to have, but ain't +regularly got. +</P> + +<P> +"The other mornin' after I'd been to the Red Owl the night before, I +felt like I needed a cup of coffee. I went round to a Chink that I'd +never met but two or three times, and says, 'John, I'm broke, will you +lend me a hundred dollars?' +</P> + +<P> +"That blasted Chink never batted an eye, never asked me if I owned any +personal property subject to mortgage, nor if I could get three good +men to go on my note. He just says, 'Surlee, Misty Foster,' and dived +down in a greasy old drawer and began to count out greenbacks. 'Here,' +I says, 'if you are that much of a Christian, I ain't an all-fired +heathen myself. Give me a dime and keep the change.'" +</P> + +<P> +Bob smiled appreciatively. "I've seen things like that happen more +than once. And it is not because they are simple and ignorant either." +</P> + +<P> +"You know," pursued Noah Ezekiel, "if I's Karniggy, I'd send a lot of +'em out as missionaries." +</P> + +<P> +They were at Ah Sing's ranch. The three-hundred-acre field was level +as a table, broken deep, thoroughly disked, and listed ready to water. +The Chinaman, without any money or the slightest assurance he could get +any for his planting, had worked all winter preparing the fields. +</P> + +<P> +Ah Sing stood in front of his weed-and-pole shack waiting with that +stoical anxiety which never betrays itself by hurry or nervousness. If +the man of money came and saw fit to lend, "vellee well—if not, doee +best I can." +</P> + +<P> +"You go out and take a look at the field," Bob directed Noah, "see if +there is any marsh grass or alfalfa roots, and look over his water +ditches while I talk to the Chinaman." +</P> + +<P> +"Good morning, Ah Sing," he said, extending his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Good morning, Misty Rogee." The Chinaman smiled and gave the visitor +a friendly handshake. He was of medium height, had a well-shaped head +and dignified bearing, and eyes that met yours straight. He looked +about forty, but one never knows the age of a Chinaman. +</P> + +<P> +"Nice farm, Ah Sing," Bob nodded approvingly at the well-plowed fields. +</P> + +<P> +"He do vellee well." The Chinaman was pleased. +</P> + +<P> +"And you have no money to make a crop?" Bob asked. +</P> + +<P> +"No money," Ah Sing said, stoically. +</P> + +<P> +"I heard last fall you had made a good deal of money raising cotton +over here," suggested Bob. +</P> + +<P> +"Me make some," admitted Ah Sing. "Workee vellee hard many year—make +maybe eighteen—twentee thousan'." +</P> + +<P> +"What became of it, Ah Sing? Don't gamble, do you?" +</P> + +<P> +The Chinaman shook his head emphatically, "Me no gamble. +Gamble—nobody trust. Me pick cotton for Misty Jenkins." +</P> + +<P> +Bob was interested in that. He knew that after raising Jenkins' crop +Ah Sing had taken the contract to pick it. Bob had heard other things +but not from the Chinaman. "Didn't you make some money on that, too?" +</P> + +<P> +"No money." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" Bob spoke quickly. "Tell me about it, Ah Sing." +</P> + +<P> +The Chinaman sighed again and the long, long look came into his patient +oriental eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah work in America ever since leetle boy—so high. After while I save +leetle money. Want go back China visit. I have cer-tificate. When I +come back, say it's no good. Put me in jail. Don't know why. Stay +long time. Send me back China. Then I come Mexico. Can't cross line; +say damn Mexican Chinaman. I raise cotton—I raise lettuce—make +leetle money. Maybee twent' thousan'. +</P> + +<P> +"Misty Jenkins say 'Ah Sing, want pick my cotton?' I say, 'Maybee.' +He say, 'Give you ten dollar bale. You do all work—feed Chinamen.' I +say, 'Vellee well.' Lots Chinaboys need work. I hire seven +hund'—eight hund'—maybee thousan.' I feed 'em. I pick cotton. Pick +eight thousan' bale. Take all my money feed 'em. I owe Chinaboys +fifty thousan' dollar. +</P> + +<P> +"No pay. No see Misty Jenkins. No cross line. Misty Jenkins pay +sometime maybee—maybee not." The old Chinaman shook his head +fatalistically. +</P> + +<P> +"And you spent all you had earned and saved in forty years, and then +went in debt fifty thousand to other Chinamen to pick that cotton, and +he hasn't paid you a dollar?" +</P> + +<P> +"No pay yet; maybee some time," he replied, stoically. +</P> + +<P> +"What a damn shame!" Bob seldom swore, but he felt justified for this +once. "Can't you collect it under the Mexican laws?" +</P> + +<P> +Ah Sing slowly, futilely, turned his hands palms outward. +</P> + +<P> +"Mexican say Misty Jenkins big man. Damn Chinaman no good no way." +</P> + +<P> +Noah Ezekiel came in from the field. +</P> + +<P> +"As my dad says," remarked the hill billy, "this Chink has held on to +the handle of the plow without ever looking back. The field is O. K." +</P> + +<P> +"How much will you need, Ah Sing?" Bob turned to the Chinaman. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybee get along with thousan' dollars—fifteen hund' maybee." +</P> + +<P> +"All right," said Bob, "I'm going to let you have it. You can get the +money three hundred at a time as you need it." +</P> + +<P> +Bob stood thinking for a moment. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah Sing," he said, decisively, "how would you like to have a partner? +Suppose I go in with you; furnish the money and look after the buying +and selling, tend to the business end; you raise the cotton. Me pay +all the expenses, including wages, for you; and then divide the +profits?" +</P> + +<P> +The Chinaman's face lost its stoic endurance and lighted with relief. +</P> + +<P> +"I likee him vellee much!" He put out his hand. "Me and you partners, +heh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," Bob gripped the hand, "we are partners." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVIII +</H3> + +<P> +Nothing Bob Rogeen had overheard about Reedy Jenkins and his schemes +had so intensified his anger as this treatment of the patient, +defenceless Ah Sing. +</P> + +<P> +"A Chinaman has the system," remarked Noah Ezekiel as they drove away. +"He'll lease a ranch, then take in half a dozen partners and put a +partner in charge of each section of the field. Raisin' cotton is +all-fired particular work, especially with borrowed water—there are as +many ways to ruin it as there are to spoil a pancake. And a partner +isn't so apt to go to sleep at the ditch." +</P> + +<P> +"That is why I went into partnership with Ah Sing," said Bob. "I have +never seen much money made in farming anywhere unless a man who had an +interest in the crop was on the job." +</P> + +<P> +"You bet you haven't," agreed Noah Ezekiel. "Absent treatment may +remove warts and bad dispositions, but it sure won't work on cockleburs +and Bermuda grass." +</P> + +<P> +For several miles Bob's mind was busy. +</P> + +<P> +"Noah," he asked, abruptly, "how would you like to go into partnership +with me and take over the management of that hundred and sixty acres we +cultivated last year?" +</P> + +<P> +"As my dad used to say," replied Noah Ezekiel, skeptically, "'Faith is +the substance of things hoped for'; and as I never hope for any +substance, I ain't got no faith—especially in profits. Whenever I +come round, profits hide out like a bunch of quails on a rainy day. I +prefer wages." +</P> + +<P> +Bob laughed. "Suppose we make it both. I'll pay you wages, and +besides give you one fifth of the net profits." +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon that'll be satisfactory," agreed Noah. "But any Saturday +night you find yourself a little short on net profits, you can buy my +share for about twenty dollars in real money." +</P> + +<P> +As they crossed the line Noah Ezekiel inquired: +</P> + +<P> +"But if me and the Chinaman raise your cotton, what are you goin' to +do?" +</P> + +<P> +"Raise more cotton," Bob answered. "You know," he spoke what had been +in his mind all the time, "I never saw anything I wanted as much as +that Red Butte Ranch. It is on that Dillenbeck System and its water +costs about twice as much as on the regular canals, but it is rich +enough to make up the difference." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, why don't you get it?" asked Noah. "Reedy Jenkins is goin' to +lose all his leases inside of a month if he doesn't sell 'em; and with +cotton at six cents, they ain't shovin' each other off of Reedy's +stairway tryin' to get to him first. It's my idea that a fellow could +buy out the Red Butte for a song, and hire a parrot to sing it for a +cracker." +</P> + +<P> +"But that is the smallest part of it," said Bob. "To farm that five +thousand acres in cotton this season would take round a hundred +thousand dollars, and," he laughed, "I lack considerable over +ninety-nine thousand of having that much." +</P> + +<P> +"Lend it to yourself out of money you are lending for old Crill," +suggested Noah. +</P> + +<P> +After Bob dropped Noah at the Greek restaurant—"Open Day and +Night—Waffles"—he drove down the street, stopped in front of an +office building, and went up to see a lawyer that he knew. +</P> + +<P> +"T. J.," he began at once, "I want you to see what is the lowest dollar +that will buy the Red Butte Ranch and its equipment. Reedy Jenkins +can't farm it, and he can't afford to pay $15,000 rent and let it lie +idle. You ought to be able to get it cheap. Get a rock-bottom offer, +but don't by any means let him know who wants it." +</P> + +<P> +As Bob went down the stairs his head was fairly whizzing with plans. +This thing had taken strong hold of him. He had longed for many months +to get possession of that ranch but had never seriously thought of it +as a possibility. But if Jim Crill would risk the money, it would be +the great opportunity. Five thousand acres of cotton might make a big +fortune in one year. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course"—doubt had its inning as he drove north toward El +Centro—"if he failed it would mean, instead of a fortune, a lifetime +debt." Yet he was so feverishly hopeful he let out the little machine +a few notches beyond the speed limit. At El Centro he went direct to +the Crill bungalow. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Barnett opened the door when he knocked, opened it about fourteen +inches, and stood looking at him as though he were a leper and had +eaten onions besides. +</P> + +<P> +"Is Mr. Crill in?" Bob asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Crill is not in." She bit off each word with the finality of a +closed argument and shut the door with a whack so decisive it was +almost a slam. +</P> + +<P> +Bob found Jim Crill in the lobby of the hotel, smoking; he sat down by +him, and concentrated for a moment on the line of argument he had +thought out. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Crill, cotton is selling at six cents now. It won't go any lower." +</P> + +<P> +"It doesn't need to as far as I'm concerned." The old gentleman puffed +his pipe vigorously. +</P> + +<P> +"It will be at least ten cents this fall." Bob was figuring on the +back of an old envelope. "Much more next year." +</P> + +<P> +Then he opened up on the Red Butte Ranch. Bob never did such talking +in his life. He knew every step of his plan, for he had thought out +fifty times just what he would do with that ranch if he had it. He +outlined this plan clearly and definitely to Jim Crill. He carefully +estimated every expense, and allowed liberally for incidentals. He +figured the lowest probable price for cotton, and in addition discussed +the possibilities of failure. +</P> + +<P> +"I feel sure," he concluded, definitely, "that I can put it through, +that I can make from fifty to a hundred and fifty thousand dollars in +profits on one crop. If you want to risk it and stake me, I'll go +fifty-fifty on the profits." +</P> + +<P> +"No partnership for me," Crill shook his head vigorously. He had made +some figures on an envelope and sat scowling at them. He had a good +deal of idle money. It this crop paid out—and he felt reasonably sure +Bob would make it go—it would give him $10,000 interest on the +$100,000; and his half of the cotton seed would be worth at least +$10,000 more. Twenty thousand returns against nothing was worth some +risk. +</P> + +<P> +"Besides," added Bob, "the lease itself, if cotton goes up, will be +worth fifty thousand next year." +</P> + +<P> +"That's what Reedy Jenkins said," remarked the old gentleman, dryly. +"Just left here an hour ago—wanted to borrow money to pay the rent +this year and let the land lie idle." +</P> + +<P> +Bob's heart beat uneasily. "Did you lend it to him?" +</P> + +<P> +"No!" The old man almost spat the word out. "He owes me too much +already." +</P> + +<P> +For two minutes, three, four, Jim Crill smoked and Bob waited, counting +the thump of his heartbeats in his temple. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll let you have the hundred thousand," he said directly. "I've +watched you; I know an honest man when I see one." +</P> + +<P> +Bob's spirits went up like a rocket; but his mind quickly veered round +to Reedy Jenkins. +</P> + +<P> +"This will make Reedy Jenkins about the maddest man in America," he +remarked. He knew now that Reedy would fight him to the bitterest end. +</P> + +<P> +Jim Crill grinned. "So'll Evy be mad. You fight Reedy, and I'll—run." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIX +</H3> + +<P> +Imogene Chandler was washing the breakfast dishes out under the canopy +of arrow-weed roof, where they ate summer and winter. The job was +quickly done, for the breakfast service was very abbreviated. She took +a broad-brimmed straw hat from a nail on the corner post, and swinging +it in her hand, for the sun was yet scarcely over the rim of the Red +Buttes far to the east, went out across the field to where her father +was already at work. +</P> + +<P> +March is the middle of spring in the Imperial Valley and already the +grass grew thick beside the water ditches, and leaves were full grown +on the cottonwood trees. The sunlight, soft through the dewy early +morning, filled the whole valley with a yellow radiance. And out along +the water course a meadowlark sang. +</P> + +<P> +The girl threw up her arm swinging the hat over her head. She wanted +to shout. She felt the sweeping surge of spring, the call of the wind, +the glow of the sunlight, the boundless freedom of the desert. She had +never felt so abounding in exuberant hope. It had been hard work to +hold on to this lease, a fight for bread at times. But wealth was here +in this soil and in this sun. And more than wealth. There was health +and liberty in it. No heckling social restrictions, no vapid idle +piffle at dull teas; no lugubrious pretence of burdensome duties. Here +one slept and ate and worked and watched the changing light, and +breathed the desert air and lived. It was a good world. +</P> + +<P> +The girl stopped and crumbled some of the newly plowed earth under the +toe of a trim shoe. How queer that after all these hundreds and +thousands of years the stored chemicals of this land should be +released, and turned by those streams of water into streams of +wealth—fleecy cotton, luscious fruit and melons, food and clothes. +And what nice people lived out here. The Chinamen who worked in the +field, quaint and friendly and faithful. Even the Mexicans with their +less industrious and more tricky habits were warm hearted and +courteous. That serenading Madrigal was very interesting—and +handsome. He had fire in him; perhaps dangerous fire, but what a +contrast to the vapid white-collared clerks or professors in the prim +little eastern town she had known. +</P> + +<P> +Of course Bob Rogeen did not like him. Imogene instinctively put up +her hand and brushed the wind-blown hair from her forehead, and smiled. +</P> + +<P> +Bob was jealous. +</P> + +<P> +But what a man Rogeen was! She had believed there were such men so +unobtrusively generous and chivalrous. But no one she had ever known +before was quite like Bob Rogeen. She remembered the black hair that +clustered thickly over his temples, and the whimsical twist of his +mouth, and the reticent but unafraid brown eyes. +</P> + +<P> +She had thought many, many times of Rogeen, and always it seemed that +he filled in just what was wanting in this desert—warmth of human +fellowship. Always she thought of him just north over there—out of +sight but very near. True he came very rarely. She wrinkled her +forehead and rubbed the end of her nose with a forefinger. Why was +that? Why didn't he come oftener? Wasn't she interesting? Didn't he +approve of her? +</P> + +<P> +A reassuring warmth came up to her face and neck. Yes, she believed he +did. His eyes looked it when he thought she was not noticing. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-156"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-156.jpg" ALT="Holy Joe shanghaies Imogene's ranchmen and discovers Percy--a willing ally." BORDER="2" WIDTH="636" HEIGHT="449"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 636px"> +Holy Joe shanghaies Imogene's ranchmen and discovers Percy—a willing ally. +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +She reached down and picked up a stick and threw it with a quick, +impulsive gesture into the water and watched it float on down the +ditch. Yes, she was pretty sure Rogeen liked her—but how much? Oh, +well—she took a dozen girlish skips along the path, her hair flying +about her face, and her heart dancing with the early sun on the green +fields before her and the brown desert beyond—oh, well, time would +tell. +</P> + +<P> +"Daddy," she had come up to where the little bald-headed man was +plowing—throwing up the ridges, "don't you like spring?" +</P> + +<P> +The ex-professor stopped the team, looked at her through his glasses, +then glanced around the field at the grass and weeds and early plants +that were up. +</P> + +<P> +"I believe," he said, mildly, "that we are approaching the vernal +equinox. But I had not observed before the gradual unfoldment of +vegetation which we have come to associate in our minds with spring." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, daddy, daddy," she laughed deliciously, and leaned over the handle +of the plow and pulled his ear. "You funny, funny man. Why, it's +spring, it's spring! Don't you feel it in your bones? Don't you love +the whole world and everybody?" +</P> + +<P> +Professor Chandler seriously contemplated the skyline, where the +sunlight showed red on the distant buttes. "I should say, daughter, +that it does give one a feeling of kinship with nature. I fancy the +early Greeks felt it." +</P> + +<P> +"I fancy they did," said Imogene, "especially if they were in love." +</P> + +<P> +"In love?" The professor brought his spectacles around to his daughter +questioningly. +</P> + +<P> +"With everything," she said, laughing. "Daddy, I'm awfully glad we are +back to the soil—instead of back to the Greeks." +</P> + +<P> +"I am not discontent with our environment." And the little professor +plowed on. She smiled maternally at his back. And then two swift +tears sprang to her eyes. Tender tears. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear old daddy. It has been good for him. He would have dried up and +blown away in that little old college." +</P> + +<P> +Returning to the shack she was still bareheaded. She loved the feel of +the sun, and the few freckles it brought only added a piquancy to her +face. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder if he"—she meant Rogeen—"will make it go this year. I hope +he has a good crop. It makes one feel that maybe after all things are +as they ought to be when a man like he succeeds. Wonder what his plans +are?" +</P> + +<P> +Then as she sat down in the shade and began a little very necessary +mending: +</P> + +<P> +"I do wish he'd come over—and tell me some more about cotton +crops—and himself." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XX +</H3> + +<P> +It is a good thing the wind does not blow from the same direction all +the time. Things would never grow straight if it did. And if one +emotion persists too long the human mind becomes even worse twisted +than a tree. For that reason, if we are normal, buoyance and +depression, ecstasy and pain follow each other as regularly as ripples +on a stream. It is good they do, but it is hard to believe it when we +are down in the trough of the wave. +</P> + +<P> +As Bob started away with the promise of Jim Crill to lend him the money +for the Red Butte Ranch, his blood was pumping faster than the running +engine of his car. But directly enthusiasm began to slow down. +</P> + +<P> +Suppose he lost—what an appalling debt for a man working at a hundred +and fifty a month! It never figured in Bob's calculation to settle his +debts in red ink. And there were chances to lose. The lawyer was +waiting for him at the hotel when he returned. +</P> + +<P> +"I saw Jenkins," he reported. "Says they paid $20,000 for the Red +Butte lease last spring. Half of it for bonus on the lease, and half +for the equipment. He claims the mules and equipment are easily worth +$10,000; and he offers to sell lease and all for that, but won't +consider a dollar less. I heard on the street this evening that a +Chinaman had offered them $7,500. I have an option on it until eleven +o'clock in the morning at $10,000." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks, T. J." Bob was figuring in his mind the basis of this price. +"I'll let you know before that time." He went up to his room to think +it out. He could hardly see any chance for loss, yet of course there +was. If this was such a sure thing, why had not some of the more +experienced cotton growers in the valley jumped at it? But Bob +dismissed that line of reasoning with a positive jerk of his head. +That was a weak man's reason—the excuse of failures, sheep philosophy. +Every day of the year some new man came into a community and picked up +a profitable opportunity that other people had stumbled over for years. +</P> + +<P> +The lease was certainly a bargain; the land was in excellent condition, +and there would be no difficulty about labour with plenty of Chinese +and Mexicans. The price of cotton could scarcely go lower. Bob had no +fear of that. Then what were the dangers? The chance of a water +shortage was remote. There had been little trouble about water. Of +course bad farming could spoil a crop; but Lou Wing was an expert +cotton grower, and you could trust a Chinaman's vigilance. With Lou as +a partner he could be sure the crop would receive proper attention. +</P> + +<P> +"It seems good!" Bob walked out of his room on to the balcony that ran +the length of the hotel and stood overlooking the twinkling lights of +the town. Calexico was getting to be quite a little city, and the +string of lights were flung out for half a mile to the east and north. +Across the line the high-arched sign of the Red Owl already winked +alluringly. +</P> + +<P> +He looked at his watch. It was only a quarter past eight. He turned +back to his room, took his violin from the battered trunk, went to the +garage, and in fifteen minutes was chugging south between the rows of +cottonwood and willows that stood dim guardians in the night against +the desert. +</P> + +<P> +Imogene Chandler heard the machine coming. She put on her new spring +coat and came out into the yard. The night was a little cool, and that +new coat was the first article of wearing apparel she had bought for +herself in three years. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad you brought your fiddle again," she said as Bob came into the +yard. She was bare-headed, and her hair showed loose and wavy in the +starlight. "I've felt rather lilty all day." She snapped her fingers +and danced round in a circle. "Just a little hippety-hoppety," she +laughed, dropping down upon the bench. "Sit down and play to us—me +and this wonderful night." +</P> + +<P> +"I want to talk first." He laid the fiddle across his knees. In spite +of the spell of the desert, figures were still running through his head. +</P> + +<P> +"How like a man!" she said, mockingly. "And is it about yourself?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," he replied, soberly. "You don't think I'd waste gasolene +to come down here to talk about any other man, do you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Before you begin on that absorbing subject," she bantered, "tell me, +will our cotton now sell for enough to pay Mr. Crill that note?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but you are not going to sell it. He has extended the note +another six months. Cotton is going up this fall." +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't that great!" she exclaimed. "Here we have money enough for +another crop, and can speculate on last year's cotton by holding for +higher prices. Why, man, if it should go to ten cents we'd clear +$3,000 on that cotton above what we already have." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, and if it goes to twelve, you'll have $4,500 to the good." +</P> + +<P> +He sat still for a moment, gripping the neck of his fiddle with his +fingers as though choking it into waiting. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" she prompted. +</P> + +<P> +"I've got a chance for something big." He got up and walked, holding +the fiddle by the neck, swinging it back and forth. "If I put it +through, it will be a fortune; but if I fail I'll be in debt world +without end—mortgaged all the rest of my life!" +</P> + +<P> +Walking back and forth before her in the starlight he told Imogene +Chandler of the big opportunity—of the rare combination of +circumstances which made it possible for him, without property or +backing, to borrow one hundred thousand dollars for a crop; and +marshalled his reasons for belief in its success. "The water might +fail," she suggested, when he had finished and sat down again with the +fiddle across his knee. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, it might," he admitted. +</P> + +<P> +"The Chinamen might get into trouble among themselves or with the +Mexicans and leave you at a critical time." +</P> + +<P> +"Possibly." +</P> + +<P> +"The duty might be raised on cotton," she added. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he confessed. +</P> + +<P> +"But," she continued, "there is one thing much more likely than any of +these—a thing fairly certain. Reedy Jenkins will fight you in every +way he can invent. First he'll fight to get your money; and then he'll +fight you just for hate." +</P> + +<P> +"I have thought of that," Bob again got up, moved by the agitation of +doubt. If it were his own money to be risked he would not hesitate a +moment—but one hundred thousand dollars of another man's money and his +own reputation! +</P> + +<P> +"For these reasons," continued Imogene Chandler, "I advise you to go +into it—and <I>you'll</I> win. +</P> + +<P> +"Now play to me." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXI +</H3> + +<P> +Imogene Chandler had spoken most confidently to Bob of his success. +But after he was gone she began to be pestered by uneasy doubts—which +is the way of a woman. +</P> + +<P> +She and her father had been compelled to operate on small capital. +They had figured, or rather Imogene had, dollar at a time. This new +venture of Rogeen's rather appalled her. A hundred thousand of +borrowed money! It was almost unthinkable. Anywhere else but in this +land of surprises such a proposition would seem entirely fantastic. +</P> + +<P> +With so much involved any disastrous turn would leave him hopelessly in +debt. And besides—her thoughts took a more uneasy turn—she felt it +was going to put him in danger. Reedy Jenkins and his Mexican +associates would be very bitter over Bob's getting the Red Butte—and +they might do anything. +</P> + +<P> +The next evening, when Noah Ezekiel came over, Imogene had not gone to +her shack. +</P> + +<P> +"Sit down, Noah," she said, "I want to talk to you." +</P> + +<P> +"That's what my maw used to say when I'd been swimmin' on Sunday," +observed the hill billy as he let his lank form down on the bench. +</P> + +<P> +Imogene laughed. "Well, I'm not going to scold you for breaking the +Sabbath or getting your feet wet, or forgetting to shut the gate. What +I want, Noah, is to get your opinion." +</P> + +<P> +"It's funny about opinions," remarked Noah impersonally to the stars. +"Somebody is always gettin' your opinion just to see how big a fool you +are, and how smart they are." +</P> + +<P> +"Noah Ezekiel Foster," the girl spoke reprovingly. "You know better +than that. You know I want your opinion because I think you know more +about cotton than I do." +</P> + +<P> +"All right," said Noah, meekly. "Lead on. I got more opinions in my +head than Ben Davis' sheep used to have cockle burs in their wool." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you think of the Red Butte Ranch?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's a blamed fine ranch." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think Mr. Rogeen will make money on it?" She tried to sound +disinterested. +</P> + +<P> +"That reminds me," replied Noah, "of Sam Scott. Sam went to Dixion and +started a pool hall under Ike Golberg's clothing store. After Sam got +it all fixed up with nice green-topped tables and white balls, and +places to spit between shots, he got me down there to look it over. +</P> + +<P> +"'How does she look?' says Sam. +</P> + +<P> +"'She looks all right,' I said. +</P> + +<P> +"'I'm going to get rich,' declares Sam. +</P> + +<P> +"'That all depends' I says, 'on one thing.' +</P> + +<P> +"'What's that?' says Sam. +</P> + +<P> +"'On whuther there is more money comes down them stairs than goes up.'" +</P> + +<P> +Noah twisted his shoulders and again looked up impersonally at the +stars. +</P> + +<P> +"You see makin' money is mighty simple. All you got to do is take in +more than you pay out. But the dickens of it is, losin' it is just as +simple—and a durned sight easier." +</P> + +<P> +Imogene was smiling into the dusk, but her thoughts were on serious +matters. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, which do you think Mr. Rogeen will do?" +</P> + +<P> +Noah twisted his shoulders again, and shuffled his feet on the ground. +</P> + +<P> +"I always hate to give a plumb out opinion—because it nearly always +ruins your reputation as a prophet. But Bob ain't nobody's fool. And +he's white from his heels to his eyeballs—everything except his liver." +</P> + +<P> +Imogene laughed, but felt a swelling in the throat. That tribute from +the hill bill meant more than the verdict of a court. +</P> + +<P> +"The only trouble is," Noah was speaking a little uneasily himself, +"Reedy Jenkins is a skunk and he's got some pizen rats gnawing for him. +There ain't nothin' they won't do—except what they are afraid to. +Bob's got 'em so they don't tie their goats around his shack any more. +But they are going to do him dirt, sure as a tadpole makes a toad. +</P> + +<P> +"Reedy Jenkins has got hold of a lot of money somewhere again; and he's +set out to bush Bob, and get away with the pile. I don't know just how +he's aimin' to do it; but Reedy don't never have any regrets over what +happens to the other fellow if it makes money for him." +</P> + +<P> +The hill billy's words made Imogene more uneasy than before. And yet +looking at the lank, droll fellow sitting there in the starlight, she +again smiled, and sighed. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'm mighty glad Mr. Rogeen has you for a friend," she said aloud. +</P> + +<P> +"A friend," observed Noah, "is sorter like a gun—expensive in town but +comfortin' in the country. +</P> + +<P> +"But really I ain't no good, Miss Chandler. As I used to say to my +dad, 'if the Lord made me, he must have done it sort of absent +mindedly, for he ain't never found no place for me.'" +</P> + +<P> +Imogene arose. She knew this big-hearted, rough hill billy must be +tired. She went over and laid her hand lightly on his shoulder and +said with a solemn tightening of the throat—"Noah, you are the salt of +the earth—and I'd rather have you for a friend than a diamond king." +</P> + +<P> +Noah arose, emotion always made him uncomfortable, and shuffled off to +his tent without a word. +</P> + +<P> +But he turned at the entrance to the tent, and looked back. The girl +sat quite still, her face turned up toward the stars. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," said Noah to himself, "she's got me all right." +</P> + +<P> +On the fourteenth of June Bob Rogeen and Noah Ezekiel Foster rode +through the Red Butte Ranch. +</P> + +<P> +The fields lay before them checkered off into squares by the irrigation +ditches, level as a table. The long rows of cotton were five to ten +inches high, and of a dark green colour. The stand on most of the +fields was almost perfect. One Chinaman with a span of mules +cultivated fifty acres. +</P> + +<P> +"Lou Wing is a great farmer," continued Bob, enthusiastically. "He is +doing the work for 45 per cent. of the crop. I pay the water and the +rent; and of course I have to advance him the money to feed and pay his +hands. He has twenty partners with a separate camp for each; and each +partner has four Chinamen working for him. That is system, Noah. It +certainly looks like riches, doesn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"All flesh is grass," Noah sighed lugubriously, "except some that's +weeds." +</P> + +<P> +"Cotton is going up every day," said Bob. "It was nine cents and a +fraction yesterday." +</P> + +<P> +"That means," remarked Noah Ezekiel, "Reedy Jenkins could sell them +eight thousand bales he's got stacked up on this side and pay all his +debts and have twenty thousand over." +</P> + +<P> +"But Reedy is not paying his debts." +</P> + +<P> +"Not yet," said Noah; "he is borrowin' more money." +</P> + +<P> +"Is that so?" Bob was sharply interested. He had not feared Reedy +much while he was out of funds. "When did you hear that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Saturday night," replied Noah. "You can gather a whole lot more +information round the Red Owl than you can moss." +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder what he is going to do with it?" Bob's mind was still on +Reedy Jenkins. +</P> + +<P> +"He's done done with it," answered Noah. "He's bought the Dillenbeck +irrigation system." +</P> + +<P> +Instantly all exuberant desire to shout went from Bob's throat and a +chill ran along his veins. In a twinkling the heat of the friendly sun +upon those wide green fields with their fingered network of a hundred +water ditches became a threat and a menace. After all, by what a +narrow thread does security hang! +</P> + +<P> +Bob walked as one on a precipice during the following weeks. Never was +a man more torn between hope and fear. On the one hand, the cotton +grew amazingly. Fed by the nourishment stored in that soil which had +lain dormant for thousands of years, watered by the full sluices from +the Colorado River and warmed like a hotbed by the floods of sunshine +day after day, the stalks climbed and climbed and branched until they +looked more like green bushes than frail plants. Bob rode the fields +all day long, even when the thermometer crept up to 127 in the shade, +and a skillet left in the sun would fry bacon and eggs perfectly done +in seven minutes. Often he continued to ride until far into the night, +watching the chopping of the weeds, watching the men in the fields, and +most of all watching the watering. Yes, the crop was advancing with a +promise almost staggering in its richness. It looked now as though +some of these fields would go to a bale and a half an acre. And slowly +but surely the price of cotton had climbed since March, a quarter of a +cent one day, a half the next, a jump of a whole cent one Friday; and +now on the second day of August it touched 10.37. With a bale to the +acre at that price Bob could add $30,000 to his estimated expense and +still clear a hundred thousand dollars on this crop. When he thought +of it as he rode along the water ditches in the early evening, he grew +fairly dizzy with hope. But then on the other side: the unformed +menace—Reedy Jenkins owned the water system! +</P> + +<P> +The fear had taken tangible shape when he got his water bill for June. +But there was no raise in price. Again yesterday, the bill for July +came, and still no raise in price. +</P> + +<P> +It was ten o'clock that night when he got into Calexico and went to the +hotel. +</P> + +<P> +As the clerk gave him the key to his room, he also handed him a letter, +saying: +</P> + +<P> +"A special delivery that came for you an hour ago; I signed for it." +</P> + +<P> +Bob's fingers shook slightly as he took it. Glancing swiftly at the +corner of the envelope he read: +</P> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DILLENBECK WATER CO.<BR> +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap22"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXII +</H3> + +<P> +Reedy Jenkins, the first night of August, sat in his office, the +windows open, the door open, the neck of his soft shirt open, and his +low shoes kicked off. But his plump, pink face was freshly shaven and +massaged and he wore two-dollar silk socks. Even in dishabille Reedy +had an air of ready money. +</P> + +<P> +There had been dark days last fall when he had been so closely cornered +by his creditors that it took many a writhe and a wriggle to get +through. Nobody but himself, unless it was the dour Tom Barton, knew +how overwhelmingly he was bankrupt. +</P> + +<P> +But Reedy had kept up an affable front to all his creditors and a ready +explanation. "We are all broke, everybody in same boat. Why sweat +over it? Of course I've got some cotton across the line; we'll just +leave it there and save the duty until it'll sell. Then I'll pay out." +</P> + +<P> +He kept up this reassurance until cotton began to sell, and then he +postponed: +</P> + +<P> +"Wait; we are all easier now. Got enough so I can cash in any day and +have plenty to pay all bills. But just wait until it goes a little +higher." +</P> + +<P> +And when it had gone to eight cents, eight and a half, and at last +nine, his creditors had ceased to worry him. Now that Reedy could sell +out any day and liquidate, and still be worth a hundred thousand or +more, there was no hurry to collect. Nobody wants to push a man who +can pay his debts any hour. Some of them even began to lend him more +money. He had borrowed $25,000 as a first payment on the $200,000 for +the Dillenbeck water system. +</P> + +<P> +To-night Reedy had a list of figures before him again. Cotton had +touched 9.76 to-day. Things were coming to a head. It was time to act. +</P> + +<P> +Reedy had one set of figures in which 8,000 bales were multiplied by +fifty and a fraction. It added $474,000. There was a column of +smaller sums, the largest of which was, Revenue $28,000. These smaller +sums were totalled and subtracted from $474,000, leaving $365,000—a +sum over which Reedy moistened his lips. Then he multiplied 15,000 +acres by something and set that sum also under the $365,000 and added +again. The total made him roll his pencil between his two plump hands. +</P> + +<P> +Madrigal, the Mexican Jew, entered with a jaunty gesture, and took a +chair and lighted a cigarette. +</P> + +<P> +"When did you get back from Guaymas?" Reedy leaned back, lighted a +match on the bottom of his chair and touched it to a plump cigar. +</P> + +<P> +"Yesterday, Señor Reedy." There was always a mixture of aggressiveness +and mocking freshness in Madrigal's tone and air. +</P> + +<P> +"See Bondeberg?" +</P> + +<P> +The Mexican nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Everything all right?" +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Si, si.</I>" Madrigal sometimes was American and sometimes Mexican. +</P> + +<P> +"I've had a dickens of a time getting trucks," said Reedy, speaking in +a low, casual tone. "But I got 'em—twenty. Be unloaded to-morrow or +the next day. I've arranged to take care of the duty. They are to be +sold, you understand, with an actual bill of sale to each of the twenty +Mexican chauffeurs you have employed." +</P> + +<P> +Madrigal nodded lightly as though all of this was primer work for him. +</P> + +<P> +"Have everything ready by the tenth. I think I can close up this water +deal by that time." +</P> + +<P> +As the Mexican left, Reedy reached for his telephone and called El +Centro. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Barnett?" Soft oiliness oozed from his voice. "This is Reedy. +What are you doing this evening? Nothing? How would you like a little +spin out to the foot of the mountains to get a cool breath and watch +the moon rise?—All right. I'll be along in about thirty minutes. By, +by." The words sounded almost like kisses. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Barnett"—Reedy slowed down the machine as they drove off across +the desert toward the foothills—"I owe everything to you." +</P> + +<P> +The widow, all in white now—very light, cool white—felt a little +shivery thrill of pride go over her. She half simpered and tried to +sound deprecating. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you merely flatter me." She was rolling a small dainty +handkerchief in her palms. +</P> + +<P> +"No, indeed!" responded Reedy, roundly. "No one can estimate the +influence of a good woman on a man's life." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm so glad"—the shivery thrill got to her throat—"if I've really +helped you—Reedy." It was the first time she had used his given name, +although he had often urged it. +</P> + +<P> +"You know," he continued, "in spite of the great opportunities for +wealth here, I do not believe that I could have endured this valley if +it had not been for you. You can't imagine what it means to a man, +after the disagreeable hurly-burly of the day's business, to know there +is a pure, sweet, womanly woman waiting for him on the porch." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Barnett gulped, filled with emotion. "I do believe," she almost +gushed, "men like the shy, womanly woman who keeps her place best after +all." +</P> + +<P> +"They certainly do!" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't see," mused Mrs. Barnett, "how a man really <I>could</I> care for a +woman who becomes so—so—well, rough and sunburned, and coarsened by +sordid work—like that Chandler woman, for instance. I mean, I don't +see how any <I>good</I> man could care for that sort." +</P> + +<P> +"Nor I," said Reedy, emphatically. He steered with one hand, and got +both of her hands in the other. +</P> + +<P> +"This year is going to be a great one for me. Cotton is already over +ten cents. I'll need only $25,000 more, and then I can clean up a +fortune for all of us." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Barnett, still thrilling to that hand pressure, moved a little +uneasily. +</P> + +<P> +"Uncle Jim has been right hard to manage for the last two times. He +was real ugly about that last $40,000. I had to remind him how much my +poor mother did for him and how little he had done for us before he +would listen to me." +</P> + +<P> +No wonder the widow quaked within her at the honour of being elected to +do it all over again. It was not because she hesitated to attempt it +for so noble a man; but for the moment she was desperate for a way to +go at it. She had used in the last effort every "womanly" device known +to conservative tradition for separating a man from his money. But she +hesitated only a moment. A watery heart and a dry eye never won a fat +loan. Undoubtedly her womanly intuition—or Providence—would show her +a way. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll do my best, Mr. Jenkins"—she lapsed into the formal again—"to +get the loan for you. But Uncle is getting right obstinate." +</P> + +<P> +"That's all right, little girl," he patted her hands. "I trust you to +do it, you could move the heart of Gibraltar. And as I've promised you +all the time, when I close up these deals I'm going to give you +personally $25,000 of the profits in appreciation of your assistance. +And that is not all"—he squeezed both the widow's hands a moment, then +released them as if by terrific resolution—"but more of that later. +We must close up this prosaic business first." +</P> + +<P> +The next morning at ten o'clock Jim Crill stamped up the outside +stairway, stamped through the open door and threw a check for $25,000 +on Reedy's desk. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the last," the old gentleman snapped with finality. "And I +want to begin to see some payments mighty quick." +</P> + +<P> +Reedy smiled as the old gentleman stamped back down the stairs, proud +of his own ability as a "worker." And he was not without admiration +for Mrs. Barnett's ability in that line. It would be interesting to +know how she had done it so quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"If the old man knew," Reedy picked up the check and grinned at the +crabbed signature, "what this is going for, he'd drop dead with +apoplexy at the foot of the stairs." +</P> + +<P> +He reached for the telephone and called the freight agent: +</P> + +<P> +"Are those motor trucks in yet? Good! We'll have them unloaded at +once." +</P> + +<P> +There are two ways to make a lot of money perfectly honestly: One is to +produce much at a time when the product legitimately has such a high +value that it shows a good profit. The other is to plan, invent, or +organize so as to help a great many men save a little more, or earn a +little more, and share the little with each of the many benefited. And +there are two ways to get money wrongfully: One is by criminal +dishonesty—taking under some of the multiple forms of theft what does +not at all belong to one. The other is by moral dishonesty—forcing or +aggravating acute needs, and taking an unfair advantage of them, +blackmailing a man by his critical wants. +</P> + +<P> +Reedy Jenkins had merely intended to be the latter. He had not planned +to produce anything, nor yet to help other men produce, but to farm +other men's needs—get hold of something so necessary for their success +that it would force tribute from them. He planned to hold a hammer +over the weakest link in others' financial deals and threaten to break +it unless they paid him double for the hammer. +</P> + +<P> +Reedy indorsed Jim Crill's check, and stuck it in his vest pocket. He +liked to go into a bank and carelessly pull $25,000 checks out of his +vest pocket. Then he took from a drawer twenty letters already typed, +signed them, and put them into envelopes addressed to the ranchers who +bought water of the Dillenbeck Water Co. +</P> + +<P> +"Now"—Reedy moistened his lips and nodded his head—"we are all set." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap23"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIII +</H3> + +<P> +Bob tore the letter open with one rip, and read it with his back to the +desk: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +DEAR SIR: +<BR><BR> +We regret to say that dredging and other immediate repairs on our canal +make a rather heavy assessment imperative. The work must be done at +once, and the company's funds are entirely exhausted. Your assessment +is $10 an acre; and this must be paid before we can serve you with any +more water. +<BR><BR> +Very truly,<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">DILLENBECK WATER Co.,</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 2em">Per R. Jenkins, Pres. & Mgr.</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Ten dollars an acre! Fifty thousand dollars! Bob walked slowly out of +the hotel. There was no use to go up to his room. No sleep to-night. +</P> + +<P> +Jenkins' plot was clear now. He had merely been waiting for the most +critical time. The next two waterings were the most vital of the whole +season. The little squares that form the boll were taking shape. If +the cotton did not get water at this time the bolls would fall off +instead of setting. +</P> + +<P> +Bob walked down the street, on through to the Mexican section of town, +thinking. He must do something, but what? +</P> + +<P> +It was a sweltering night and people were mostly outdoors. Under the +vines in front of a small Mexican house a man played a guitar and a +woman hummed an accompaniment. Across the street a little Holiness +Mission was holding prayer meeting, and through the open windows an +organ and twenty voices wailed out a religious tune. +</P> + +<P> +Bob turned and walked back rapidly, and crossed the Mexican line. At +the Red Owl he might hear something. +</P> + +<P> +It was so hot that even the gamblers were listless to-night. The only +stir of excitement was round one roulette wheel. Bob started toward +the group, and saw the centre of it was Reedy Jenkins with his hat +tipped back, shirt open at the throat, sleeves rolled to elbows, +playing stacks of silver dollars on the "thirty." +</P> + +<P> +Bob leaned against one of the idle tables and talked with the game +keeper, a pleasant, friendly young chap. +</P> + +<P> +"Wonder what the Mexicans are going to do with so many motor trucks?" +the gamester asked casually. +</P> + +<P> +"Motor trucks?" Bob repeated. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, they unloaded a whole string of them over here to-day. One of +the boys said he counted twenty." +</P> + +<P> +As Bob left the gambling hall Reedy was still playing the roulette +wheel at twenty dollars a throw. +</P> + +<P> +Rogeen got his car and started south. He would see for himself if +there was any basis for Jenkins' claim that immediate work must be done +on the water system. It was late and there were no lights at any of +the little ranch shacks over the fields. +</P> + +<P> +Chandler's place was dark like the rest. They were sleeping. Their +notice would not come until to-morrow or next day. He would not wake +them. Anyway to-night he had forgotten his fiddle, but he grimly +remembered his gun. +</P> + +<P> +He drove through the Red Butte Ranch without stopping. He could +scarcely bear even to look to the right or left at those long rich rows +of dark green cotton. +</P> + +<P> +Turning off the main road south toward the Dillenbeck canal, something +unusual stirred in Bob's consciousness. At first he could not think +what was the matter; but directly he got it—the car was running +differently. This road across a patch of the desert was usually so +bumpy one had to hold himself down. To-night the car ran smoothly. +The road had been worked—was being worked now—for a quarter of a mile +ahead he heard an engine and made out some sort of road-dragging outfit. +</P> + +<P> +The simplest way in the world to make a road across a sandy desert, or +to work one that has been used, is to take two telephone poles, fasten +them the same distance apart as automobile wheels, hitch on an engine, +and drag them lengthwise along the road. This not only grinds down the +uneven bumps but packs the sand into a smooth, firm bed for the +machine's wheels. +</P> + +<P> +That was what they were doing here. Bob stayed back and watched. He +did not want to overtake them. The road-breaking outfit crossed the +canal directly and headed south by east off into the desert. Bob +stopped his machine on the plank bridge, and watched them pull away +into the night. Then he gave a long, speculative whistle. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder," he said, "what philanthropist is abroad in the land at one +o'clock in the morning?" +</P> + +<P> +Rogeen left his machine and followed on foot along the bank of the +canal for two miles. The water was flowing freely. There was no sign +of immediate need for dredging. Some of the small ranches were getting +water to-night. He was glad of that. The Red Butte had finished +watering its five-thousand-acre crop a week ago. It would be three +days before they would need to begin again. +</P> + +<P> +He went back to his machine and drove clear up to the intake from the +Valley Irrigation Company's canal. The water was running smoothly all +the way. The ditches seemed open, and in fair shape. Some work was +needed of course every day; but there was no call for any quick, +expensive repairs. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-188"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-188.jpg" ALT=""Make it plain to the Chandler girl that this is her last chance to sell before I ruin her crop."" BORDER="2" WIDTH="638" HEIGHT="459"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 638px"> +"Make it plain to the Chandler girl that this is her last chance <BR> +to sell before I ruin her crop." +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +No, Jenkins' call for money was purely for himself and not the water +system. The whole thing was robbery. But how could it be prevented? +Injunctions by American courts did not extend over here, and Reedy +undoubtedly had an understanding with the Mexican authorities. +</P> + +<P> +There was nothing for it, thought Bob, but to choose one of two evils: +Be robbed of $50,000, or lose five thousand acres of cotton. He set +his teeth and started the little car plugging back across the sand +toward the American line. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap24"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIV +</H3> + +<P> +A little after daylight Bob was in El Centro. Jim Crill, always an +early riser, was on the porch reading the morning paper. +</P> + +<P> +"Come and have breakfast with me," Bob called from the machine. "Got +some things to talk over." +</P> + +<P> +He handed Crill the letter from the water company. Not a muscle in the +old gentleman's face changed as he read, but two spots of red showed at +the points of his sharp cheekbones. +</P> + +<P> +"If it was your own money in that crop, what would you do?" asked Jim +Crill, shortly. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd fight him to hell and back." Bob's eyes smoldered. +</P> + +<P> +"Then fight him to hell and back," said the old man, shortly. "And if +you don't get back, I'll put up a tombstone for you. +</P> + +<P> +"I've believed all along," said Jim Crill, "that Reedy Jenkins is a +rascal. But," he lifted his left eyebrow significantly, "womenfolks +don't always see things as we do. Anyway, my trust was in cotton—it +is honest—and sooner or later I'll get his cotton. He's got to bring +it across the line to sell it. +</P> + +<P> +"I've taken up all the other liens on that cotton," Crill continued, +"so there'll be no conflicting claims. I've got $215,000 against those +eight thousand bales." +</P> + +<P> +He took a bill book from his hip pocket, and removed some papers. +</P> + +<P> +"I was coming over to see you this morning. Been called away. Trouble +in our Texas oil field. Main gusher stopped. May be a pauper instead +of a millionaire. Would have got out of this damned heat before now if +I hadn't wanted to keep an eye on Jenkins. +</P> + +<P> +"Now I'm going to turn these bills over to you for collection. Get +$215,000 with 10 per cent. interest, and half his cotton seed." +</P> + +<P> +Bob's eyes were straight ahead on the road as he drove back to +Calexico; his hands held the wheel with a steady grip, but his mind was +neither on the road nor on the machine. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," he smiled to himself, grimly, "at any rate, I'm accumulating a +good deal of business to transact with Reedy Jenkins. I suppose first +move is a personal interview with him." +</P> + +<P> +Bob stopped the machine in the side street and went up the outside +stairway of the red brick building, with purpose in his steps. But the +door of the office was closed, a notice tacked on it. Bob stepped +forward and read it eagerly: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Mr. Jenkins' office is temporarily removed to the main building of the +Mexican Cotton Ginning Co." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"And so," said Bob as he went down the stairs, "Reedy has moved across +the line." That was puzzling, and not at all reassuring. +</P> + +<P> +Rogeen did not go to the cotton gin to see Reedy. He wanted first to +find out what the move meant. For two days he was on the road eighteen +hours a day, most of the time on the Mexican side, gathering up the +threads of Jenkins' plot. The other ranchers by this time had all +received their notices, and there was murder in some of their eyes. +But most of them were Americans, the rest Chinamen, and neither wanted +any trouble on that side. +</P> + +<P> +"Jenkins has a stand-in, damn him," said Black Ben, one of the +ranchers. "I'd like to plug him, but I don't want to get into a +Mexican jail." +</P> + +<P> +The second evening he met Noah Ezekiel at the entrance of the Red Owl. +Bob had instructed Noah and Lou Wing to continue the work in the cotton +fields exactly as though nothing impended. +</P> + +<P> +"I was just lookin' for you," said Noah a little sheepishly. +</P> + +<P> +"All right," responded Bob. "You've found me. What is on your mind?" +</P> + +<P> +"Let us go a little apart from these sons of Belial," said Noah, +sauntering past the Owl into the shadows. +</P> + +<P> +"I picked up a fellow down by the Red Butte today," began Noah, "that +had been on one of these here walkin' tours—the kind you take when +your money gives out. After he'd stuffed himself with pottage and +Chinese greens, and fried bacon, and a few other things round the camp, +he got right talkative. He says they've broke a good road through the +sand straight from Red Butte to the head of the Gulf of California. +And that there is a little ship down there from Guaymas lying round +waiting for something to happen." +</P> + +<P> +"Noah"—Bob gripped Ezekiel's arm—"I've been working on that very +theory. Your news clinches it. Reedy is never going to take that +cotton across the American line. He is planning to shoot it down +across that eighty-five miles of desert to the Gulf on motor trucks, +ship it to Guaymas, and sell it there to an exporter. He is not even +going to pay poor old Ah Sing for picking it; and as a final get-away +stake he is trying to hold us up for $150,000 on the water. He has +moved across the line for safety, and never intends to move back." +</P> + +<P> +"He won't need to," said Noah Ezekiel. "He is due to get away with +about half a million. But what do we care?" Noah shook his head +solemnly. "As my dad used to say, 'Virtue is its own reward.' That +ought to comfort you, Brother Rogeen, when you are working out that +$78,000 of debts at forty dollars a month." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap25"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXV +</H3> + +<P> +Early next morning Bob went to the executive offices, and waited two +hours for the arrival of the governor. Rogeen knew of course that +Madrigal, the Mexican Jew, was engineering the Mexican end of the +conspiracy; but he wanted to discover who the Mexican official was from +whom they were securing protection. +</P> + +<P> +Bob stated his business briefly, forcibly. He was one of the ranchers +who got water from the Dillenbeck canal. The company was endeavouring +to rob them. The ranchers wanted protection, and wanted water at once. +The official was very courteous, solicitous, sympathetic. He would +look into it immediately. Would Señor Rogeen call again tomorrow? +</P> + +<P> +Señor Rogeen would most certainly call again tomorrow. When he left +the office he went direct to Ah Sing's ranch. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah Sing," said Bob, "I want you to turn over to me your $80,000 claim +against Reedy Jenkins for picking his eight thousand bales of cotton, +and give me power of attorney to collect it." +</P> + +<P> +"Allee light, I give him." +</P> + +<P> +The next morning when the Mexican official came down to the office at +ten o'clock he assured Bob most regretfully that although impetuous and +violent efforts had been made to right his wrongs, unfortunately so far +they had found no law governing the case. The Dillenbeck Company was a +private water company, owned by American citizens; the Mexican +officials had no power to fix the rate. +</P> + +<P> +Bob went direct to the Mexican cotton gin. +</P> + +<P> +"Jenkins"—Bob sat down on the edge of the offered chair, his feet on +the floor, his knees bent as though ready to spring up—"I need to +begin watering the Red Butte to-day, but your man tells me he has +orders to keep the gates shut." +</P> + +<P> +Reedy nodded, his plump lips shut tight, an amused leer in the tail of +his eye. "You got my notice, didn't you? No cash, no water. Either +ten dollars an acre spot cash or no spot cotton." +</P> + +<P> +"Jenkins"—Bob's fingers were clutching his own knees as though holding +themselves off the rascal's throat—"that is the dirtiest steal I ever +knew." +</P> + +<P> +"That is not near what the water is really worth to you," said Reedy, +nonchalantly. "It is only about 20 per cent. of what your crop will +make—if it does not burn up." +</P> + +<P> +The knots in Bob's arms flattened out, and his tone took on casualness +again. +</P> + +<P> +"Jenkins, I've got a couple of little bills against you that I'm +authorized to collect. One on the American side is a trifle of +$215,000 which you owe Mr. Crill; the other on this side is for $80,000 +that you owe Ah Sing. Do you wish to take care of them now? Or shall +I attach your cotton?" +</P> + +<P> +Reedy's pink face and wide mouth took on a grin that fairly oozed +amusement. "Attach my cotton, by all means." +</P> + +<P> +Bob got up, hesitated a second, sat down again, and took out his check +book. As his pen scratched for a moment, the grin on Reedy's face +changed to one of victorious greed. Rogeen tore out the check and +handed it to Reedy. +</P> + +<P> +"There is $1,600. Turn water on the Chandler ranch. As for mine, you +can be damned." +</P> + +<P> +Reedy toyed idly with the check a moment, slowly tore it up, and threw +it in the wastebasket. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry, but I can't get water to the Chandler ranch without the +rest order it, too. Perhaps"—he again took on a leer—"if Miss +Chandler should come in and see me personally, something might be +arranged." +</P> + +<P> +"Jenkins"—the coolest, most concentrated anger of his life was in +Bob's tone—"I know your whole plot. You can't get away with it. You +may ruin my cotton, probably will, but I'm going to smash you and sell +the pieces to pay your debts." +</P> + +<P> +Reedy got to his feet, and flushed hotly. The threat had gone home. +</P> + +<P> +"There are six hundred Mexican soldiers and policemen that will answer +my call. You won't make a move they don't see. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't bank on any threat about the United States Government. Mexicans +have been picking off Americans whenever they got ready for the last +three years; and nothing ever happens. They aren't one bit scared of +the American Government. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't fool yourself, Rogeen; you are outclassed this time. I know +what I'm doing, and I'm going to do it. If you don't want to rot in a +Mexican jail or bleach on the sands somewhere, you'll walk softly and +stay on the other side." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap26"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVI +</H3> + +<P> +When Bob left the Mexican cotton gin after the interview with Reedy +Jenkins he had the feeling of furious futility which many a brave man +has felt under similar circumstances. Yonder, two hundred yards away, +he could see American soldiers patrolling the border; yet so little +influence and so little fear did that big benign government wield over +here that he knew that scoundrel and his villainous Mexican +confederates could ruin his fields, throw him in jail and, even as +Reedy threatened, bleach his bones on the sand, and no help come from +over there—not in time to save him. +</P> + +<P> +And yet there must be ways. There were other Mexican officials than +the thieving one that Reedy had bribed to protect his movements and +robberies. There were some fair Mexicans; and there were others, even +if unfair, on whom the pressure of self-interest could surely be +brought to bear. +</P> + +<P> +It was unfortunate, Bob reflected, that Jim Crill had bought up all the +debts against Jenkins' cotton. If these debts had been left scattered +among the banks and stores and implement dealers, there would have been +some influential coöperation in his effort to get action from the +Mexican officials. +</P> + +<P> +Bob went across the line and filed a long telegram to the State +Department at Washington outlining the situation and asking for +assistance. Then he caught the train for Los Angeles, where he had +learned the American consul at the nearest Mexican port, whom he knew, +was on a vacation. +</P> + +<P> +The consul was very indignant at the treatment Rogeen was receiving and +promised to investigate. +</P> + +<P> +"Investigate!" Bob ran his fingers through his thick, sweaty hair, and +unconsciously gave it a jerk. "But, man, I need water right now! It's +the most critical time of the whole crop. Every day of delay means a +loss of ten, fifteen, twenty thousand dollars." +</P> + +<P> +"I know," said the consul; "but don't you see no officer can act merely +on the word of one man. We have to get evidence and forward it to the +department. If only I had the authority to act on my own initiative, I +could bring them to time in twenty-four hours." +</P> + +<P> +"If you wired to the department for authority," suggested Bob, +"couldn't you get it?" +</P> + +<P> +The consul shook his head doubtfully. He really was impressed by Bob's +desperate situation. "I'll try it, and I'll be down to-morrow to see +what I can do." +</P> + +<P> +Bob returned to Calexico with a little hope—not much but a little. +Anyway, he was anxious to see the department's reply to his own appeal. +But it had not replied. The Western Union operator was almost insulted +that Bob should imagine there was a message there for him. +</P> + +<P> +Bob wrote another appeal, a little longer, and if possible more urgent, +and fired that into Washington. +</P> + +<P> +The consul came the following day. He interviewed the other ranchers +and verified Bob's statements. He took affidavits, and made up quite a +bulky report and dispatched it by mail to Washington. In the meantime +he wired, briefly outlining the substance of his letter, and asked for +temporary authority to take measures that would force the Mexican +officials to act. +</P> + +<P> +Bob was fairly hopeful over this. He waited anxiously for twenty-four +hours for some answer. None came. This was the third day since his +cotton began to need water. The thermometer went to 131 at two +o'clock. No green plant could survive long without water. +</P> + +<P> +He rode all day enlisting the coöperation of influential men in the +valley on the American side, and got several of them to send wires to +Washington. Every night when he returned to Calexico he went eagerly +to the telegraph office; but each time the operator emphatically shook +his head. Then Bob laboured over another long telegram, begging for +haste; he paid nine dollars and forty cents toll and urged that the +message be rushed. +</P> + +<P> +By the fifth day Rogeen was getting desperate. He returned to Calexico +at seven o'clock, jumped out of his car, and hurried into the telegraph +office. +</P> + +<P> +A message! A telegram for him at last! He had got action. Maybe even +yet he could save most of his crop. The message was collect—$1.62. +He dropped two silver dollars on the counter and without noticing the +change tore open the message. It was from the department at Washington +and was brief: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +DEAR SIR: +<BR><BR> +If you file your complaints in writing, they will be referred to the +proper department for consideration. +<BR><BR> +R. P. M., <I>Ass't to Sec. of State.</I> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Then Bob gave up, turned about gloomily, and went out to his machine, +and started south toward the Chandler ranch. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap27"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVII +</H3> + +<P> +As the sun, like a burnished lid to some hotter caldron, slid down +behind the yellow sandhills that rimmed the desert, Imogene Chandler +felt as though she must scream. She would have made some wild outcry +of relief if it had not been for her father, who still sat in the +doorway of the shack, as he had all day, gray and bent like a dusty, +wilted mullein stalk. +</P> + +<P> +It had been a terrible day—the hottest of the summer. And for a week +now the irrigation ditches had been dry. To-day the cotton leaves had +wilted; and the girl had looked away from the fields all afternoon. It +tortured her to see those rich green plants choking for water. +</P> + +<P> +The sun gone, and a little relief from the heat, she began to prepare +supper. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-204"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-204.jpg" ALT=""Shut off the water? Why all the cotton in the valley will be withered in a day."" BORDER="2" WIDTH="638" HEIGHT="457"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 638px"> +"Shut off the water? Why all the cotton in the valley will be withered in a day." +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +As she stirred flour for biscuits, Imogene was blaming herself for ever +bringing her father here. But it had looked so like the great +opportunity to escape from the fetters of dry rot and poverty. So near +were they to success, with the rising prices this crop would make them +a small fortune—five thousand, perhaps seven or eight thousand dollars +clear—if only it had water. But to see it burn day by day, and all +because of the greed of Reedy Jenkins! She had sent her father with +the tribute of sixteen hundred dollars to Jenkins, but he had refused +it. He could not turn on the water for so small a ranch. She knew he +was trying to force Bob Rogeen through her to submit to the robbery. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Imogene and her father were dully eating their supper when Bob's +machine stopped at the ranch. But the moment the light from the +swinging lantern over the table fell on his face, she knew it was +hopeless, and her mind leaped from her own trouble to his. +</P> + +<P> +"It all comes down to this"—they had not discussed the fight until the +little professor had gone to bed—"my backing must mean more to the +Mexican officials than Reedy Jenkins'. If I could only get Washington +to give the consul power to act, then we could apply pressure. +But"—he shrugged his shoulders fatalistically and looked moodily up at +the glittering stars—"you see how hopeless that is." +</P> + +<P> +She gave a jump that almost scared him, and grabbed his arm. Her face +was so close to his he could see the excitement in her eyes even +through the dusk. +</P> + +<P> +"I can help; it can be done!" +</P> + +<P> +She was electrically alive now. "Daddy was a classmate of the +President's and was an instructor under him before we came West. He +thinks a lot of daddy, but daddy would never use his friendship with +the President to get a job. He's got to use it now—for you—for all +of us! Write a personal telegram to the President—the sort that will +get immediate action—and I'll make daddy sign it." +</P> + +<P> +Bob was fairly white with excitement, and his hand shook as they sat +down at the board table under the lantern and carefully composed that +telegram. This was their one last hope, and it must get action. +</P> + +<P> +"There, that will do it," Imogene nodded sagely. They were sitting +side by side, their heads close together, studying the final draft of +the appeal. The night wind blew a strand of her hair against his face, +and for a moment he forgot the desert, forgot the fight, forgot the +telegram, and saw only her. Then he shook himself free from the spell. +He must save the girl and himself before he dared speak. +</P> + +<P> +Imogene roused up her father, and had him sign the message. And an +hour later by a combination of bribes, threats, and pleadings Bob got a +sleepy operator to reopen the telegraph office and speed the message to +Washington. +</P> + +<P> +At five o'clock the next day the reply came. Bob signed for it, and +his fingers shook as he tore it open. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +DEAR THEO: +<BR><BR> +State Department instructing consul by wire to take any action +necessary to protect American ranchers. +<BR><BR> +W. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +By eleven o'clock that night he got a message from the consul; and +thirty minutes later Bob was speeding toward Tia Juana, a hundred and +fifty miles west, to see the Mexican governor. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap28"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVIII +</H3> + +<P> +Early next morning Rogeen got an interview with the executive of the +Mexican province, whom he had never met. The governor received him +most courteously and manifested both alert intelligence and a spirit of +fairness. During that long night ride Bob had thought out most +carefully his exact line of appeal. +</P> + +<P> +"Your Excellency," he said, earnestly, "wishes, of course, for the +fullest development of the Imperial Valley in Mexico. To that end the +ranchers must know they have full protection, not alone for their lives +as they now have, but also for their crops. They must know it is +profitable to farm in Mexico. I, myself, have five thousand acres of +cotton, which will pay in export duties alone perhaps $25,000. Next +year I wish to grow much more. Besides, I'm the agent for a very rich +man who lends hundreds of thousands of dollars to other ranchers in +your province. +</P> + +<P> +"But this can continue only if those who do business on your side of +the line obey the laws and pay their debts. Such men as Reedy Jenkins +must be compelled to deal honestly or get out." +</P> + +<P> +The governor agreed to what Rogeen said, and promised to take prompt +action. +</P> + +<P> +"But," insisted Bob, "to save us, it must be done quickly. Jenkins' +cotton must be seized and held for his debts, and the water turned into +the canals at once." +</P> + +<P> +This was also promised as soon as legal papers could be prepared. In +leaving the office Bob dropped the telegram from the consul, +accidentally. +</P> + +<P> +"It apparently will not be needed," he said to himself as he left the +office, "but it won't hurt to lose it." +</P> + +<P> +The telegram left in the office read: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Present your situation to the governor, and if immediate relief is not +given I'll close the border within twenty-four hours so tight that not +a man, a mule, nor a machine can cross it either way. +<BR><BR> +LANIER, <I>Consul.</I> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Two hours later a secretary who spoke good English and a Mexican +captain appeared at the Chinese hotel where Bob was waiting. +</P> + +<P> +"We have here," the secretary presented Bob with two papers, "an +attachment for Señor Jenkins' cotton and an order that the water must +be turned into the canals at once, and at the old rate. El Capitan and +I will accompany you in the governor's own machine to see these orders +are obeyed." +</P> + +<P> +Rogeen requested that no message be sent to Mexicali regarding these +attachments, as that would give Reedy a chance to dodge. +</P> + +<P> +"Can we go back over the Mexican road, and come into the valley round +the Laguna Salada?" Bob asked. Reedy might already be rushing his +cotton on those trucks down to the waiting boat on the Gulf, and by +going this route they would intercept them. +</P> + +<P> +The road over the mountains was not completed, said the secretary, but +they could have another machine from the valley to meet them, and in +that machine make the circuit as proposed. +</P> + +<P> +At ten o'clock that night Rogeen, the captain, and the secretary left +the machine and the chauffeur at the top of the mountain grade, and +began the two-mile descent to the ancient bed of the sea—the desert +round the Laguna Salada. +</P> + +<P> +Bob's satisfaction at winning the governor was more than overbalanced +by the torturing fear that it would all be too late. He believed they +would be in time to stop Reedy from getting away with his four hundred +thousand dollars' worth of cotton. Jenkins would not start until he +had lost hope of getting that $150,000 from the ranchers for water. +But Bob feared he was already too late to save his own cotton and +Chandler's. +</P> + +<P> +The point on the mountain where they left the machine was almost a mile +high. The descent to the valley was by a steep and precarious trail. +The captain who was familiar with it took the lead. +</P> + +<P> +It was twelve-thirty when they reached the road at the bottom which led +to Mexicali. The machine was not there. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you suppose is the matter?" Bob's voice sounded surprisingly +cool but a little flat, even to himself. Although the hot winds struck +them here, his skin felt clammily cold. +</P> + +<P> +"He'll be here by and by." The secretary lighted a cigarette. He did +not share Bob's anxiety and felt no undue fret over a little delay. "I +telegraphed the <I>comandante</I> to send driver and car here about +midnight. He'll be here before long," he reassured. For an hour Bob +walked back and forth peering at every turn far into the desert, +listening until his ears ached. But no sight of car, no sound of +puffing engine. Another hour passed, and another. His anxiety +increased until the delay seemed unbearable. +</P> + +<P> +They waited nine hours. At last they saw the black bug of a machine +crawling snortingly across the twenty-mile strip of sand between them +and the pass through the Cocopa Mountains. +</P> + +<P> +At nine-thirty the car arrived, a powerful machine of expensive make. +The chauffeur was a slender, yellowish young Mexican who delighted in +taking dangerous curves at fifty miles an hour and who savagely +thrilled at the terrific punishment his car could take and still go. +</P> + +<P> +Through the secretary Bob told him of the plan to skirt the Laguna +Salada and go south round the Cocopas instead of going through the +pass. This way they would follow the ancient bed of the Gulf of +California and forty miles south turn across the desert of the Lower +Colorado, thence northeastward until they struck the trail along the +river. By this route they could reach the Red Butte, the head of the +Dillenbeck canal, almost as quickly as through the pass and by +Mexicali, while at the same time they would follow for thirty miles up +the river trail down which Jenkins' trucks must pass on the way to the +head of the Gulf. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think we can do it?" Bob asked the chauffeur. +</P> + +<P> +The chap lighted a cigarette, shrugged, and replied they could do any +damn thing. +</P> + +<P> +"Let's be doing it then," urged Bob, jumping into the luxurious car. +</P> + +<P> +The Laguna Salada is a dead lake made from the overflow of the Colorado +River and salted by the ancient bed of the sea. There is no vegetation +round it, no life upon it. Along the salty, sandy shore that glitters +in the sun there is no road, no broken trail. But the reckless +chauffeur hit the sand with the exultant fierceness of a bull fighter. +And at every lunge Bob clung to the iron bar overhead and devoutly +prayed that the machine would live through it. +</P> + +<P> +It did. At one o'clock they swung round the headlands into the main +desert—the worst of its size on the continent, the desert of the Lower +Colorado. +</P> + +<P> +As far as the eye could see stretched the dead waste, so dead that not +a mesquite bush, not a cactus, not a living thing grew or crawled or +flew. And upon it smote the sun so hot it seemed a flame, and over it +boiled a wind like the breath of a volcano. +</P> + +<P> +It staggered even the four men, used as they were to the heat of the +valley. But it was only forty miles to the river. +</P> + +<P> +"Pretty damn bad," the chauffeur muttered in Spanish, and shrugged. +Then he turned the nose of his machine northeast, and straight across +the hard-packed sand shot into the blistering desert. +</P> + +<P> +"Two miles, four miles, six——" Bob counted off, watching the +speedometer. Every mile took him nearer the road, the water gates—and +Reedy Jenkins. +</P> + +<P> +"Eight—nine——" he continued. Then a terrific roar; the machine +staggered; the chauffeur swore and applied the brakes. +</P> + +<P> +They all jumped out. It was the right hind tire—a hole blown through +it ten inches long. The chauffeur kicked it two or three times, +lighted a cigarette, and stood looking at the burst tire. Finally he +shrugged and glanced across the desert. The wind was blowing hard; +there was sand in it. He shrugged and sauntered round to the front of +the car, got out his jack and wrenches, took the wheel off, prowled +round a quarter of an hour, then lighted another cigarette, again stood +looking at the burst tire, and kicked it a few times as though trying +to make it wake up and mend itself. +</P> + +<P> +"What is the matter?" asked Bob. He had been afraid to ask. +</P> + +<P> +"He says," interpreted the secretary, "he has no inner tube. Forgot to +bring any." +</P> + +<P> +"Then he'll have to run on the rim," said Bob, desperately; "we've got +to get out of this." +</P> + +<P> +But the secretary nodded toward the radiator which roared as though +about to blow up. +</P> + +<P> +"Where is his water?" Rogeen felt more than the heat surging through +his head. +</P> + +<P> +The chauffeur sauntered round the car twice as though looking for it. +</P> + +<P> +"Says," explained the secretary, "he had a can but must have lost it." +</P> + +<P> +They tried running on the rim, without water and with the hot wind +blowing the same direction they were going. The machine lasted four +miles, and then quit in the middle of a sand drift, with the most +infernal finality in its death surge. +</P> + +<P> +Bob got out and looked at the stalled car hopelessly. The boiling wind +surged over the hot dust and smote him witheringly. The driven sand +almost suffocated him. It was twenty-five miles at least to the river, +twenty more to possible assistance. He looked at his watch—it was +five minutes after one. Six hours before the sun would set, and until +then walking would be suicide. +</P> + +<P> +He climbed back into the machine, and sank limply into the shaded +corner of the seat. Six hours of this—it would be torture; and there +would be one long night of walking to reach water; another day of +waiting for night—without food—and again a long, staggering walk +before they reached a human habitation. +</P> + +<P> +Two days and nights of delay—then it would be too late! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap29"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIX +</H3> + +<P> +There are times when torture of the body heals the suffering of the +mind, and times when mental agony blots out physical pain. But there +are other times when the two run together. It was so with Bob as they +toiled doggedly through that long night across the desert toward the +river. He kept his course by the North Star, and lost little distance +by getting off the compass. It was just daylight when they reached the +river. The stream was bank full—midsummer is high water for the +Colorado—and was very muddy. But its water was more beautiful than +jasper seas to those four men. +</P> + +<P> +After they had drunk and cooled themselves in it, they crawled under a +clump of willows beside the road to rest through the day. Bob had just +stretched out on his back and covered his face with a handkerchief, +ready to sleep, when a chuck-chuck and a grinding noise came down the +road. He was up instantly, and so were the three Mexicans. +</P> + +<P> +"A machine!" they exclaimed. Relief! They would not have to walk that +other twenty miles. +</P> + +<P> +The deep chug of the engine indicated a powerful machine pulling +heavily. It was coming rather slowly. The road was hidden by miles of +rank wild hemp; but directly the machine came round a curve. +</P> + +<P> +It was a motor truck loaded high with cotton bales! +</P> + +<P> +Bob's heart beat quick. They were in time to save at least part of it, +after all. +</P> + +<P> +The captain bristled. Here was work to do, authority to display. He +stepped into the middle of the road, put his hand on his gun, and gave +a ringing call to halt. +</P> + +<P> +The Mexican driver came to a sudden stop. He knew <I>el capitan</I>. And +whatever faults may be attributed to the governor of Baja California, +all admits he is a governor. When he speaks in person or by messenger +there is never any hesitancy about obedience. +</P> + +<P> +The captain read his orders to the chauffeur and commanded him to turn +round. The four climbed on, and the truck started back. +</P> + +<P> +The driver told them that only two trucks had gone on ahead; sixteen +were behind, with Señor Jenkins on the last, and each truck carried +twenty bales of cotton. +</P> + +<P> +They stopped the next truck when they met it, and then waited until all +seventeen were backed up the road. +</P> + +<P> +Reedy Jenkins leaped from the rear one, nervous and violent of temper, +swore, and hurried forward to see what was the trouble. To his +unutterable wrath he saw the end truck headed about. +</P> + +<P> +"What the hell! you damned greasers." But then he quit. Something was +wrong here. He strode forward angrily. +</P> + +<P> +"Rogeen, get off that truck and do it damn quick." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm getting off," said Bob. With a quick leap he landed in the road +and went straight for Reedy. The secretary and the captain followed. +</P> + +<P> +"I have a writ of attachment here," said Bob, bringing out the paper +issued by the governor, "for your cotton in favour of Ah Sing. I have +further orders from the governor to deliver the cotton to the compress +on the American side and sell it in the open market. +</P> + +<P> +"Captain," Bob turned to the officer, "order the drivers to turn back. +You ride on the front one with the driver, and I'll ride on the back +one with my kind friend Señor Jenkins." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +That night after Bob Rogeen had left her with the telegram Imogene +Chandler was too wrought up to sleep. And the longer she thought of +it, the more determined she became to take action herself. She had +some faith that the telegram would bring results, but not much faith +that those results would come in time to save their crop. While Bob +was riding through the days and nights, fighting for them, she and the +other ranchers were doing nothing but watch their cotton burn for water. +</P> + +<P> +About eleven o'clock Imogene went to the corral and bridled and saddled +a horse. With the bridle reins in her left hand and her revolver in +her right, she galloped off north toward Rogeen's ranch to consult Noah +Ezekiel. +</P> + +<P> +A mile up the road she met Noah riding south. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter? Your dad not sick?" He was much astonished to see +her riding out at this time of night. +</P> + +<P> +"No," replied the girl, "it is our cotton that is sick. And I'm going +after a doctor. Noah, I want you to go with me and show me where those +water gates are. I'm going to have water or fight. They wouldn't +shoot a woman." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, wouldn't they?" said Noah. "That shows how naturally scarce of +information you are. +</P> + +<P> +"No," said the hill billy determinedly but with a current of tenderness +in his tone, "you ain't goin' to the water gates; you are goin' back to +your ranch. You are just naturally sweet enough to gentle a horse, but +you ain't cut out to fight Mexicans." +</P> + +<P> +She had turned her horse round and was riding beside him back toward +her ranch. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, listen here," said Noah as he saw signs of rebellion in the swing +of her body and the grip on her revolver, "you go home and get your dad +and your Chinaman ready. There's goin' to be water in them ditches +before daylight or there will be one less hill billy in this vale of +tears." +</P> + +<P> +During these fervid days Noah Ezekiel had not been asleep, although +much of the time he looked as though he were on the verge of it. He +had had his eye on both ranches—the Chandlers' and the Red Butte. +Twice he had cautiously reconnoitred the full length of the water +ditches. +</P> + +<P> +At a point on the Valley Irrigation Company's big canal, about seven +miles below the intake from the Colorado River, two diverting ditches +branched off; the larger of these furnished the main water supply of +the Mexican side of the valley, the smaller was the Dillenbeck system. +</P> + +<P> +At these gates the Valley Company kept water keepers and guards day and +night. As the Dillenbeck Company were merely private consumers, water +was turned into this canal only on their orders, and charged for by the +thousand feet. +</P> + +<P> +Four miles below where this canal began to branch to the various +ranches it supplied was the Dillenbeck water station. It was the +keeper in charge here who ordered water from the main canal and who +opened the sluice gates and apportioned it to the various ranches. +</P> + +<P> +Noah Ezekiel on his reconnoitring discovered two things: The night +water keeper had been reënforced by a Mexican guard; and besides +Madrigal, the Mexican Jew, usually spent the night with these two. +Expecting trouble, a company of twenty Mexican special guards was +camped a quarter of a mile down the canal, in easy calling distance. +These guards, while authorized by the comandante, were hired and paid +by Reedy Jenkins. It was their duty to patrol the canal above and +below by the main water gates and be ready at all times to repulse any +threatened attack. +</P> + +<P> +Noah Ezekiel had been approached several times by infuriated ranchers +with suggestions that they organize a mob. But American ranchers were +too few and unpopular to make mobs highly hopeful. An attack on these +guards would bring on a conflict with the whole Mexican garrison at +Mexicali, consisting of several hundred well-trained troops. Noah +Ezekiel advised strongly against this. Noah was opposed to strife of +any kind. But he had been doing a little plotting of his own. +</P> + +<P> +He knew the Red Owl employed a number of boosters for the games—men +who went from table to table and gambled with the house's money. The +psychology of gambling is like the psychology of anything else—the +livelier the game the more there are who want to get into it. The job +of the booster is to stimulate business by gambling freely himself. +These boosters are paid four dollars a day; and the ordinary Mexican, +if given his choice between being secretary of state and a booster at +the Red Owl, would pick the Owl every time. +</P> + +<P> +After a reasonable wait to see if water was coming in by the due +process of law and growing doubtful about it, Noah Ezekiel had begun +carefully laying plans. +</P> + +<P> +That morning he had gone to the Red Owl and had a secret session with +Jack the Ace of Diamonds, one of the game keepers. Jack and the hill +billy had become good friends, and Jack was more than willing to +accommodate a friend. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, Ace," said Noah, "the idea is like this: This afternoon you send +a Mexican out to that camp on the Dillenbeck canal with the information +that the Owl wants to hire about eleven good boosters to begin work at +twelve o'clock to-night; and have the messenger casually but secretly +give each of them a slip of paper that is dead sure to get him one of +the jobs. +</P> + +<P> +"And," Noah grinned, "you give every one of 'em that applies a job for +two days—as a treat on me. You can fix it with the boss." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," grinned Jack, "I'll fix it." And a Mexican messenger had been +dispatched on the spot. +</P> + +<P> +Noah sat at the ranch shack as dark came on and counted them as they +went by down the road. As he guessed, the officer would get away +first, and the rest begin to drop away from camp one or two at a time +soon after dark. By eleven o'clock he had counted seventeen: and then +Noah saddled his horse. When he had met Imogene, he had thought she +was another Mexican, but he was not alarmed at one or even three. +</P> + +<P> +A little before one o'clock Noah tied his horse to a cottonwood tree a +half mile below the Dillenbeck water gates. +</P> + +<P> +He skirted through the fields round the deserted guard camp. His +caution was not necessary, not a Mexican soldier was left. He grinned +to think of the boosters about now in the Red Owl. Two hundred yards +from the little open shack that served as office and home for the water +keeper Noah took off his shoes and left his hat, and slipped toward the +light. In his hands, muzzle forward, was the double-barrelled +shotgun—the riot gun sure to hit its mark at close range that Bob had +got for him with which to guard the Chandler ranch. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap30"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXX +</H3> + +<P> +Noah, bent low, slipped forward in utter silence—more silence than +necessary. The American water keeper, Madrigal, and the Mexican guard +were too profoundly busy with a crap game on the floor under the +lantern to be disturbed by the mere breaking of a twig. +</P> + +<P> +But all at once from out the night came a drawling voice: +</P> + +<P> +"Brethren, let's raise our hands." Three pairs of eyes leaped up from +the dice and looked into the muzzle of the most vicious shotgun they +had ever seen—not ten feet away. Six hands went up without a word. +</P> + +<P> +"Stand up," was the next drawling command. "Turn your backs." Noah +flung two small ropes at their feet. +</P> + +<P> +"You," he ordered Madrigal, "tie the Mex's hands behind him—and stand +him over by the wall." +</P> + +<P> +"Whitey," he ordered the water keeper when that was done, "tie the +Hebrew's hands and feet and set him down over by the wall, facing this +way. +</P> + +<P> +"Now," Noah again commanded the water keeper, "go to the telephone and +order the water turned in. Tell 'em we are dry—that all the trouble +is settled, and to shoot the water down banks full, right away, quick." +</P> + +<P> +The water keeper was shaking as though with the ague. He knew danger +when he saw it and he was perfectly sure he saw it. +</P> + +<P> +He went to the telephone and called the keeper at the Valley Irrigation +Company's office. As he started to speak Madrigal stirred on the floor +as though trying to get up. +</P> + +<P> +Still keeping the water keeper covered with the shotgun, Noah looked +round at Madrigal and drawled: +</P> + +<P> +"If I was you, Hebrew, I'd keep sayin' over that parable which reads: +'Once there was a Mexican who was shot in the stomach with half a pint +of buckshot; and in hell he lifted up his eyes and said, "Father +Abraham, send me a drop of water." And Father Abraham says, "Not a +drop. Ain't you the man that helped burn up the Imperial Valley? +Hell's too good for you, but it's all we've got."'" +</P> + +<P> +The telephone message was given. +</P> + +<P> +"It sounded all right," said Noah to the water keeper. "Sit down over +there and be comfortable, while we wait and see; and keep your eye on +the muzzle of the gun. It is the only way to keep it from smokin'." +</P> + +<P> +Forty minutes passed. Noah's eyes were on his prisoners, but his ears +kept listening. Fifty minutes, then he heard a loud woosh—almost a +roar. The water was coming! +</P> + +<P> +"Now let's go out and open up all gates," ordered Noah. The water +keeper obeyed. +</P> + +<P> +"For the time being," drawled Noah, "you can lie down out there in the +open beside the canal and take a nap. Shootin' craps has been sort of +hard on your nerves. I'll look after the water for a spell." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +About nine o'clock at night Imogene Chandler came in from the cotton +field. +</P> + +<P> +Out there in the dim starlight stretched the long rows of cotton, +erect, green, luxuriant. The water had come in time. It had flowed +into their ditches at four o'clock the morning after Noah Ezekiel +passed. They had been ready for it. For three days it had flowed +abundantly, and all their fields were watered. +</P> + +<P> +Imogene lifted her face to the wind. She loved the desert again. And +yet there was restlessness in her movements; even in the stillness her +ears strained to catch some other sound than the soft rustle of the +wind. +</P> + +<P> +Nothing had happened to him of course or she would have heard. But she +had watched for him that first night after the water was turned in; the +next night she was expecting him, and last night she felt sure he would +come. If he did not come tonight—— Maybe something had happened, +maybe he had been shot by some of Jenkins' hired assassins? Fear, +which really had been hovering about for three days, but put off by her +faith in Bob's utter competence to take care of himself, swooped down +on her suddenly. Her throat grew dry, her heart beat like a frightened +bird's, she whirled and started to run for the house. She would start +in search at once. +</P> + +<P> +Then came the sound that her ears had been straining for—the chuck, +chuck of his little machine. +</P> + +<P> +She dropped down on the bench under the arrowwood shelter and let +herself go. But the sobs were over, her eyes dry, her lips smiling, as +he came across the yard in the dusk with a dark bulk under his arms. +</P> + +<P> +He had brought his fiddle. She did not stir from the bench. She felt +utterly, blissfully relaxed. Her arm lay loosely along the back of the +bench, her head dropped slightly forward, the wind still stirring her +hair. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello." That was her only greeting. But the tone of it went through +him like a soft breath of wind in the woods following a lull in the +storm. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello," and that was his only reply as he sat down on the bench beside +her, the fiddle across his knees. +</P> + +<P> +Her arm lying lazily along the back of the bench was almost touching +him; but he had not noticed it, and she left it there. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't hardly know where to begin," Bob said directly, and laughed to +try to cover up his emotions. He knew that no matter where he began he +never could put in words the horror of the night when the ghost of +utter defeat and failure walked with him over that terrible desert; nor +yet the great upsweep of triumph that engulfed him when he reached the +water gates the next day and learned that Noah Ezekiel and a +double-barrelled shotgun had saved the crops three days before—his and +all the rest. +</P> + +<P> +To feel one moment that he was in debt for life, beaten and wrecked, +and the next to know he would be worth in three months at least a +hundred thousand dollars! No, he could not put that in words; so he +merely twanged softly the violin strings with his thumb, and remarked +casually: +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I got the money." +</P> + +<P> +"What money?" Still the girl did not stir. She was so blissfully +lethargic, and she was not thinking at all of money or cotton. +</P> + +<P> +"For poor old Ah Sing, and for Jim Crill. I seized Reedy's cotton this +morning and sold it this afternoon. Got $410,000 for the cotton and +the seed. But Jenkins was in deeper than we knew. He's gambled away +fifty thousand or so. After I'd paid up all his debts, including the +duty, there was only $25,000 left for Reedy. And Mrs. Barnett came +down on me like a squawking hen, demanding that. Said Reedy had +promised it to her for getting the loans from her uncle. But Reedy +denied it." +</P> + +<P> +"What did you do?" asked Imogene as he paused. "I compromised—told +Reedy I was entitled to that much for commission and damages, but that +I'd give it to him provided he and Mrs. Barnett married. They did." +</P> + +<P> +Imogene laughed, a rich warm laugh in which there was no sting of +revenge, only humour for human faults. This was such a good world, and +such a beautiful desert! +</P> + +<P> +Bob did not think of anything more to tell of his exploits. Somehow +his mind would not stay on them. Instead, he looked up at the stars +and sighed with deep content, then put the fiddle to his shoulder and +raised the bow. +</P> + +<P> +When he finished he turned to look down at her, and in that moment felt +the touch of her arm at his back. She was very still; he was not sure +whether she was crying or smiling. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know what it said?" he asked, huskily. +</P> + +<P> +"Y-e-s," she answered, softly, "but I want to hear it in words, too." +</P> + +<P> +He slipped his arm round her and drew her to him. "You wonderful +darling," he said, kissing her, "you'll hear it a million times in +words." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="finis"> +THE END +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Desert Fiddler, by William H. 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Hamby + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Desert Fiddler + +Author: William H. Hamby + +Release Date: July 3, 2008 [EBook #25960] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DESERT FIDDLER *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: Charles Ray as Bob Rogeen, + and Barbara Bedford as Imogene Chandler.] + + + + + + +THE DESERT FIDDLER + + +BY + +WILLIAM H. HAMBY + + + + +PHOTOPLAY TITLE + +PERCY + + + + ILLUSTRATED WITH SCENES + FROM THE PHOTOPLAY + A THOS. H. INCE PRODUCTION + RELEASED BY PATHE PICTURES + + + + +NEW YORK + +GROSSET & DUNLAP + +PUBLISHERS + + + + +COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY + +CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY + + +COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY + +DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY + + + +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + + +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES + +AT + +THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y. + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +Charles Ray as Bob Rogeen, and + Barbara Bedford as Imogene Chandler . . . _Frontispiece_ + +Jenkins and Lolita awed by Percy's fiddling. + +Lolita tries her wiles on Percy. + +Reedy Jenkins makes a proposition to Imogene. + +A mutual discovery--they both cared. + +Holy Joe shanghaies Imogene's ranchmen and discovers + Percy--a willing ally. + +"Make it plain to the Chandler girl that this is her + last chance to sell before I ruin her crop." + +"Shut off the water? Why all the cotton in the valley + will be withered in a day." + + + + +THE DESERT FIDDLER + + +CHAPTER I + +Bob Rogeen slept in the east wing of the squat adobe house. About +midnight there was a vigorous and persistent shaking of the screen door. + +"Yes?" he called, sleepily. + +"They have just telephoned in from the Red Butte Ranch"--it was Dayton, +his employer, at the door--"the engine on that tractor has balked. +They want a man out there by daylight to fix it." + +Bob put up his arms and stretched, and replied yawningly: + +"Well, I guess I'm the fixer." + +"I guess you are," agreed the implement dealer. "You know the way, +don't you? Better ride the gray; and don't forget to take your gun." +The boss crossed the _patio_ to his own wing of the house. + + +The young fellow sat up and kicked along under the edge of the bed, +feeling for his shoes. + +"A love--lee time to go to work," he growled, good-naturedly. "Here is +where the early bird catches the tractor--and the devil." + +When he came out of the door a few minutes later, buttoning his +corduroy coat--even in Imperial Valley, which knows no winter, one +needs a coat on a March night--Rogeen stood for a moment on the step +and put up his long arms again to stretch some of the deep sleep from +his muscles. He was not at all enthusiastic about odd jobs at +midnight; but in a moment his eyes fell on the slanting moonlight that +shone mistily on the chinaberry tree in the _patio_; the town on the +American side was fast asleep; the wind with the smell of sagebrush +stirred a clump of bamboo. The desert night had him--and when he rode +away toward the Mexican line he had forgotten his gun and taken his +fiddle. + +He passed through Mexicali, the Mexican town, where the saloons were +still open and the lights over the Red Owl, the great gambling hall, +winked with glittering sleeplessness; and out upon the road by the +irrigation canal, fringed with cottonwood and willows. + +He let the reins drop over the saddlehorn, and brought the fiddle round +in front of him. There was no hurry, he would be there before +daylight. And he laughed as he ran his right thumb over the strings: + +"What a combination--a fool, a fiddle, and a tractor." + +Bob could not explain what impulse had made him bring a fiddle with him +on the way to mend a balky gasoline engine. As a youth--they had +called him rather a wild youth--he had often ridden through the Ozark +hills at night time with his fiddle under his arm. But in the last +eight years he had played the thing only once, and that once had come +so near finishing him that he still carried the receipt of the +undertaker who came to bury him the next day. + +"Oh, well," Bob grinned into the night as he threw his right knee over +the saddlehorn and put the fiddle to his shoulder, "we'll see how she +goes once more." + +For three miles he rode leisurely on, a striking figure in the dim +moonlight--a tall young man on a gray horse, fiddling wildly to the +desert night. + +He crossed the bridge over the main canal, left the fringe of +cottonwood and willow, and turned across the open toward the Red Butte +Ranch. The fiddle was under his arm. Then he saw a shack in the open +field to the right of the road. It was one of those temporary +structures of willow poles and arrow weed that serve for a house for +the renter on the Mexican side. The setting moon was at its back, and +the open doorway showed only as a darker splotch. He lifted the fiddle +again. "Chinaboy, Jap, Hindu, Poor Man, Rich Man, Beggar Man or +Mexican--I'll give you a serenade all the samee." + +The gleeful melody had scarcely jigged its way into the desert night +when, in the black splotch of the doorway, a figure appeared--a woman +in a white nightdress. Swiftly Bob changed the jig tune into a real +serenade, a clear, haunting, calling melody. The figure stood straight +and motionless in the dark doorway as long as he could see. Someway he +knew it was a white woman and that she was young. + +He put the fiddle back in the bag and turned in his saddle to mark the +location of the hut in his mind--there was a clump of eucalyptus trees +just north of it. Yes, he would know the place, and he would learn +tomorrow who lived there. That listening figure had caught his +imagination. + +But again he grinned into the night, ruefully this time as he +remembered the disaster that had followed his last two experiences with +this diabolical instrument of glee and grief. + +"Oh, well," he shook his head determinedly and threw his leg across the +saddle, "the first time was with a preacher; the second with a gun; now +we'll give the lady a chance." + +The fiddle and the figure in the doorway had stirred in Bob a lot of +reflections. At twenty he had given up his music and most of the +careless fun that went with it, because a sudden jolt had made him see +that to win through he must fight and not fiddle. For eight years he +had worked tremendously hard at half a dozen jobs across half a dozen +states; and there had been plenty of fighting. But what had he won?--a +job as a hardware clerk at twenty dollars a week. + +"Oh, well"--he had learned to give the Mexican shrug of the +shoulder--"twenty dollars in a land of opportunity is better than fifty +where everything is already fixed." + +That must be the Red Butte Ranch across yonder. He turned into the +left-hand fork of the road. + +"Hello, there!" A tall, rambling fellow rose up from the side of the +road. "Are you the good Samaritan or merely one of the thieves?" + +"Neither," replied Bob, guessing this was a messenger from the Red +Butte, "but I work for both. Where is your balky tractor?" + +"This way." The rambling fellow turned to the right and started down +the road, talking over his left shoulder: + +"I'm the chauffeur of that blamed tractor--I told Old Benson I didn't +know any more about it than he does of the New Jerusalem; but he put me +at it anyhow. + +"I'm a willin' cuss. But the main trouble with me is I ain't got no +brains. If I had, I wouldn't be on this job, and if I was, I could fix +the darn thing myself. + +"My dad," continued the guide, "was purty strong on brains, but I +didn't take after him much. If I was as posted on tractors as the old +man was on hell fire, I wouldn't need you." + +Something in this hill billy's tone stirred in Bob a sudden +recollection. + +"Was he a preacher?" + +"Yep, named Foster, and I'm his wandering boy to-night." + +Bob lifted his head and laughed. It was a queer world. He inquired +about the trouble with the tractor. + +"I sure hope you can fix it," said Noah Ezekiel. "Old Benson will +swear bloody-murder if we don't get the cotton in before the tenth of +April. He wants to unload the lease." + +The sun was scarcely an hour high when the steady, energetic chuck, +chuck of the tractor engine told Bob his work was done. He shut it +off, and turned to Noah Ezekiel. + +"There you are--as good as new. And it is worth ten men and forty +mules. Not much like we used to farm back in the Ozarks, is it?" + +"We?" Noah Ezekiel rubbed his lean jaw and looked questioningly at the +fixer. "I'm from the Ozarks, but as the silk hat said to the ash can, +'Where in hell does the _we_ come in?'" + +"You don't happen to remember me?" There was a humorous quirk at the +corner of Rogeen's mouth as he stood wiping the oil and grease from his +hands with a bunch of dry grass. + +The shambling hill billy took off his floppy-brimmed straw hat and +scratched his head as he studied Bob with the careless but always alert +blue eyes of the mountain-turkey hunter--eyes that never miss the turn +of a leaf nor forget a trail. + +Those eyes began at the feet, took in the straight waistline, the +well-knit shoulders. Bob weighed a hundred and eighty and looked as +though he were put together to stay. For a moment Noah Ezekiel studied +the friendly mouth, the resolute nose, the frank brown eyes; but not +until they concentrated on the tangled mop of dark hair did a light +dawn on the hill billy's face. + +"Well, I'll be durned!" The exclamation was deep and soul-satisfying, +and he held out his hand. "If you ain't Fiddlin' Bob Rogeen, I'll eat +my hat!" + +"Save your hat." Bob met the recognition with a friendly grin. + +"I never saw you but once," reflected Noah Ezekiel, "and that was the +Sunday at Mt. Pisgah when my dad lambasted you in his sermon for +fiddlin' for the dance Saturday night." + +"That sermon," Bob's smile was still a little rueful, "lost me the best +job I had ever had." + +"Oh, well," consoled the hill billy, "if you hadn't lost it somethin' +might have fell on you. That's what I always think when I have to move +on." And he repeated with a nonchalant air a nonsensical hill parody: + + _I eat when I'm hungry, + I drink when I'm dry, + And if a tree don't fall on me + I'll live till I die._ + + +Then his eyes veered round to Bob's fiddle lying to one side on the +grass. + +"I notice," he grinned, "dad did not convert you." + +"No," said Bob, "but he cured me--almost. I've only played the thing +twice since." + +Rogeen picked up his fiddle and started for his horse. + +"Well, so long, Noah. You've got a nice place to work out here." His +eyes swept almost covetously over the five-thousand-acre ranch, level +as a floor, not a stump or a stone. "If I had this ranch I'd raise six +thousand bales of cotton a year, or know the reason why." + +"That ain't what the last fellow said," remarked the hill billy, +grinningly. "Reedy Jenkins was out yesterday figuring on buyin' the +lease; and he said: 'If I had it--I'd raise the rent.'" + + + + +CHAPTER II + +Bob was out in front of the hardware store dressed in a woollen shirt +and overalls, and bareheaded, setting up a cotton planter, when an old +gentleman in a linen duster, who had been pacing restlessly up and down +the walk like a distant relative waiting for the funeral procession to +start, stopped on the sidewalk to watch him work. Whether it was the +young man's appearance, his whistling at his work or merely the way he +used his hands that attracted the old gentleman was not certain. But +after a moment he remarked in a crabbedly friendly tone: + +"Young man, you know your business." + +"The other fellow's business, you mean," replied Bob without looking up +from the bolt he was adjusting. "It is not mine, you know." Bob had +been repeating during the last two days the remark of the hill +billy--"I'm a willin' cuss, but I ain't got no brains." He had begun +to wonder if he was not in the same wagon. He had always thought he +had brains, but here he was at twenty-eight no better off than the hill +billy. Perhaps not as well, for Noah Ezekiel Foster was getting more +per month for riding one tractor than Bob was for selling twenty. + +The old gentleman made a noise in his throat that corresponded to a +chuckle in a less belligerent man. + +"Do you sell farm machinery over there?" The store faced the line; and +he nodded toward the Mexican side. + +"Yes," answered Bob. + +"Know the country pretty well?" + +"Yes." The young man rose up with the wrench in his hand, and looked +for the first time into the gray-blue eyes under the bushy iron-gray +brows. "The country is the same as it is on this side. The people +somewhat different." + +"Any good chances to invest money over there?" asked the old gentleman. + +"I suppose so." Bob stopped to pick up another nut and started to +screw it on. "I'm not bothered much hunting for investments. But I +reckon there is a chance for a man with money anywhere." + +"To spend it," added the other fellow, sharply. "Any place will do for +a fool and his money to part. But, young man, it is easier to earn +money with brains than it is to keep it without them." + +Bob's eyes looking past the old gentleman saw a youngish woman dressed +in widow's weeds--very expensive weeds--coming rapidly down the walk +from the hotel, and knew she was coming for the old man. As she came +nearer, Bob saw she had tawny yellow hair, with slate-coloured eyes and +a pious mouth. Her carriage was very erect, very ladylike, and +patently she was from the East. + +"Oh, Uncle," she gurgled and, as the old gentleman turned, with a +little burst of enthusiasm she threw her arms about his neck. + +"When did you get in, Evy?" The old gentleman managed to disengage the +arms without giving the appearance of heartlessness. His voice was +crabbed, but sounded as though it might be from the length of the vocal +cords rather than the shortness of disposition. + +"Last night." There was an aggrieved touch of self-denying complaint +in the tone. "And the little hotel is perfectly wretched. I had such +a horrid room--and I felt so conspicuous alone. The landlady told me +you had been there looking for me this morning before I was up. I'm so +glad to see you, Uncle; just as soon as I heard of poor Aunt Ellen's +death I felt that I must come and look after you at any sacrifice." +There was a slight pause in which the old gentleman did not venture a +remark. "But, Uncle"--there was accusation in the tone--"why did you +ever come out to this awful country? The dust was simply awful--I +think some of my clothes are ruined." + +"The old horse is across the street." The uncle turned and started +toward a very high-powered, expensive car. + +"Who was that old chap?" Bob asked of Dayton, who came up from +breakfast just as the car drove off. + +"That's Jim Crill--Texas oil fields. Staying at El Centro and looking +for a place to drop his money, I hear. But I wonder who's the lady? I +saw her get off the train with Reedy Jenkins yesterday evening." + +"A dear relative," remarked Bob with a grin, "come to take care of him +since his wife died--and he struck oil." + +After a moment--the planter finished--Bob asked casually: + +"Does Benson own the Red Butte Ranch?" + +"No," answered the implement dealer, "it belongs to the Dan Ryan tract. +Dan is one of the very few Americans who has a real title to land on +the Mexican side. When Benson leased it two years ago it was merely +sand hummocks and mesquite, like the rest of the desert. Spent a lot +of money levelling it and getting it ready to water. He lives at Los +Angeles, and is one of those fellows who try to farm with money instead +of brains and elbow grease. Lost a lot on last year's crop, and now he +wants to get rid of his lease." + +Bob had been thinking of that ranch most of the time since he fixed the +tractor. He loved the soil, and surely a man could get real returns +from a field like that. + +"I wonder," he remarked without meeting his employer's eyes, "if he +would sublease it?" + +"Don't know," replied Dayton; "Reedy Jenkins is trying to buy the +lease." + +"Then," thought Bob as his employer went into the store, "Jenkins ought +to offer a market for farm machinery. I'll go up and see him." + +On his way to Jenkins' office Bob's mind was busy with his own personal +problems. He had been struggling with his ambitions a long time and +never could quite figure why he did not get on faster. He had thought +a great deal the last few days about Jim Crill, the old man with bushy +eyebrows--and oil wells. Two or three things the gruff old chap had +said stuck in Bob's mind. He had begun to wonder if it was not just as +easy for a fellow to make a bad investment of his brains and muscles as +it was with his money. "That's it," he said almost aloud at a definite +conclusion; "I haven't been making a good investment of myself. I +wonder if I could sublease that Red Butte Ranch?" + +The more he thought of it, the more anxious he was to get hold of +something he could manage himself. Of course, the idea of farming a +five-thousand-acre ranch without capital was merely a pipe dream; but +still, if Benson was losing money and wanted to get loose from his +lease--it might be possible. + +Reedy Jenkins' office was upstairs and on a back street. It had an +outside stairway, one of those affairs that cling to an outer brick +wall and end in a little iron platform. The only sign on the door was: + + REEDY JENKINS, + Cotton. + + +It did not explain whether Mr. Jenkins raised cotton, bought it, sold +it, ginned it, or merely thought about it. The office was so located +that in a morally crusading town, where caution was necessary, it would +have suggested nocturnal poker. But as it was not necessary for a +poker game in Calexico to be so modestly retiring, Reedy's choice of an +office must be attributed solely to his love of quiet and unostentation. + +As Bob turned up the side street, two people were coming down the iron +stairway--one a dry, thin man who looked as though he might be the +relict of some dead language, wearing a stiff hat and a black alpaca +coat; the other, a girl of more than medium height, who took the narrow +steps with a sort of spring without even touching the iron rail with +her hand, and her eyes were looking out across the town. + +"I beg your pardon," Bob met them at the foot of the stairs, "but can +you tell me if Mr. Jenkins is in?" + +It was the girl who turned to answer, and at one look Bob saw she was +more than interesting--soft light hair, inquisitive eyes, an intuitive +mouth--nothing dry or attenuated about her. + +"Yes," she replied, with a slight twist of the mouth, "Mr. Jenkins is +in. Have you a lease to sell?" + +"No." + +"Then go on up," she said, and turned across the street following the +spindle-legged man who was unhitching two horses. + +"Blooming sunflowers!" exclaimed Bob, his heart taking a quick twist as +she walked away, "as sure as I'm a foot high, that's the girl who stood +in the doorway that night." + +As Bob entered the office Jenkins sat tipped back in a swivel chair, +his left arm resting on his desk, the right free as though it had been +gesturing. Reedy had rather large eyes, a plump, smooth face that was +two shades redder than pink and one shade pinker than red. He always +looked as though he had just shaved, and a long wisp of very black hair +dangled diagonally across the corner of his forehead, such as one often +sees on the storm-tossed head of an impassioned orator who is talking +for the audience and working for himself. + +"Sit down." He waved Bob to a chair. "I've been wanting to have a +talk with you--got a proposition for you." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +Reedy Jenkins lighted a very good cigar and sat studying Rogeen with a +leisurely air. Bob was a good salesman and began at once: "Understand +you have been buying up leases, and I came up to sell you some farm +machinery." + +Reedy took the cigar from his wide mouth and laughed at the joke. "I +don't raise cotton, I leave that to Chinamen--I raise prices. I'm not +a farmer but a financier." + +Then returning the cigar to the corner of his mouth he remarked with a +pink judicialness: + +"I should say you have a way with the ladies." + +Bob blushed. "I never discovered it, if I have." + +"I have, myself." Reedy bit the end of his cigar and nodded with a +doggish appreciation of his own fascination. "But I'm too busy just +now to use it." + +"Rogeen"--Reedy laid the smoking cigar on some papers on his desk and +faced Bob--"I've had my eye on you for some time. I am buying up +leases across the line. I need a good man to work over there. What is +Dayton paying you?" + +"Twenty a week." Bob was surprised at the turn of the conversation. + +"I'll give you a hundred and fifty a month to start, and there'll be a +fine chance for promotion." + +"What am I to do?" inquired Bob. + +"Here is the whole thing in an eggshell. No doubt you are acquainted +with the situation over the line. You know, excepting one or two big +concessions, no Americans own land on the Mexican side. The land is +all farmed under leases and sub-leases. If a Chink or a Jap or a +wandering American hayseed wants to open up a patch of the desert, he +takes a five-year lease. As it costs him from ten to twenty dollars an +acre to clear off the mesquite, level the sand hummocks, and get his +ditches ready for water, he pays only one dollar rent the first year, +two dollars the second, and so on. + +"Now"--Reedy picked up his cigar, puffed a time or two, and looked +speculatively over Bob's head--"if a fellow wants to speculate on the +Mexican side, he doesn't deal in land; he buys and sells leases. That +is my business. Of course, once in a while I take over a crop that is +planted or partly raised, because I have to do it to get the lease. +But you can say on general principles I'm about as much interested in +farming as a ground hog is in Easter. + +"The price of cotton has been low, and for various and sundry other +reasons"--Reedy squinted his large eyes a little mysteriously--"a lot +of the ranchers over there after getting their land in good shape have +got cold feet and are willing to sell leases that have three or four +years yet to run for nearly nothing. + +"I'm acquiring a bunch of them and am going to make a fortune out of +them. One of these days the price of cotton will take a jump, and I'll +be subleasing ten thousand acres of land at ten dollars an acre that +cost me three. + +"Now what I want you for"--he brought his attention down squarely to +Rogeen--"is to buy leases for me--I'll give you a list of what I want +and the prices I'll pay. If you get a lease for less, I'll give you +half the rake-off in addition to your wages." + +Bob thought fast. This looked like a fine opportunity; perhaps he was +worth more as a buyer than as a salesman. + +"I'll have a try at it," he said. "But I won't sign up for any length +of time until I see how it goes." + +"That suits me," Reedy assented readily. His one fear had been that +Bob might want a term contract. + +"I'll see Dayton," Bob arose, "and let you know how soon he can let me +off." + +Dayton liked Bob and hated to lose him, but was one of those employers +who prefer to suffer some inconvenience or loss rather than stand in +the way of a young man's advancement. + +"A hundred and fifty dollars a month is more than I can pay, Rogeen," +he said. "You'd better take it. Begin at once. I'll get Jim Moody in +your place." + +At one o'clock Bob was back at Jenkins' office and reported ready for +work. + +Reedy reached in his desk for the map on which all the ranches below +the line were carefully marked. + +"The ranches I want to get first are along the Dillenbeck Canal. It is +a private water system, and the water costs more; but the land is rich +enough to make up the difference. + +"The first one I want you to tackle is here"--he made a cross with his +pencil--"Belongs to a little dried-up old geezer named Chandler. He is +ready to sell; talk to the girl. Five hundred is my top price for +their lease and equipment." + +As Bob went down the outside stairway he passed a Mexican going up--a +Mexican with features that suggested some one of his immediate +forefathers was probably a Hebrew. Rogeen recognized him--his name was +Madrigal; and he remembered that someone had told him that the Mexican +was in the secret service over the line, or rather that he was an +unofficial bearer of official information from some shady Mexican +officials to some shady American concerns. + +When the Mexican entered the office, Reedy got up and closed the door. +Then he took the map again from a drawer and opened it out on the desk. + +"I'll get Benson's lease this week." Reedy put his pencil on the Red +Butte Ranch. "And these," he pointed to smaller squares along the +Dillenbeck Canal, "are the ones I have marked for early annexation. +How many of them have you seen?" + +"Thes, and thes, and thes." Madrigal pointed off three ranches. + +"I've sent the new man down to see Chandler," said Reedy. "He's the +sort that can win over that girl. I must have that ranch. It is one +of the best of the small ranches." + +"_Si, si._" Madrigal grinned, and smoothed up his black pompadoured +hair. "Eet will be easy. I gave them big scare about the duty on +cotton next fall." + +"And then my friend who manages the Dillenbeck system gave them another +about the price of water this summer," smiled Reedy. "But"--he +frowned--"if the girl should continue obstinate, and they refuse to +sell?" + +"Then I'll attend to the senorita"--the Mexican put his hand on his +heart and bowed gallantly--"the ladies are easy for Senor Madrigal." + +"Yes," said Reedy, shutting his wide mouth determinedly, "and if he +fails, I'll 'tend to Rogeen." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +It was a little after sundown when Bob rode up to the Chandler ranch. +The girl was out under the cottonwood trees by the irrigation canal +gathering up dry sticks for stove wood. He hitched his horse and went +to her. + +"Good evening," he said. + +"Where is your fiddle?" There was a faint twist of amusement at the +corner of her mouth. + +"How did you know?" + +"Guessed it," she replied, with a little lift of the eyebrows; and then +stooped to pick up the armful of dry sticks she had gathered. + +"Let me have them." He stepped forward to take the wood. + +"Why should you?" she said, without offering to relinquish them. "I +prefer to carry my own sticks--then I don't have to build fires for +other people." He laughed, and followed her up the path toward the +shack. + +"Let us sit down here." She led the way to a homemade bench in the +open. "Daddy has had a hard day and has gone to bed, and I don't want +to disturb him. He's very tired and has been upset over this lease +business." + +That was an opening, but before he could take advantage of it she +abruptly changed the conversation: + +"But you haven't told me why you didn't bring your fiddle this time. +I'd love to hear it on a night like this." Dusk was coming swiftly and +the stars had begun to glimmer. + +"Oh, I don't carry it round as a business," he answered. "Fact is, +until the other night I had not played it but twice in eight years." + +"Why?" She turned to him with curious interest. + +"It hasn't usually brought me good luck." + +"What happened the other two times?" + +[Illustration: Jenkins and Lolita awed by Percy's fiddling.] + +He looked off at the very bright star in the west and smiled with +whimsical ruefulness. "I love music--that is, what I call music. When +I was in the Ozarks I fiddled a lot, but discovered it did not bring me +what I wanted, so I went to work. I got a job in a bank at Oakville; +was to begin work Monday. I was powerful proud of that job, and had +got a new suit of clothes and went to town Saturday. That night there +was a dance, and they asked me to play for it." He stopped to chuckle, +but still a little regretfully. "My playing certainly made a hit. +Sunday morning a preacher lambasted the dance, and called me the +special messenger of the devil. My job was with a pillar of his +church. I didn't go to work Monday morning. It's a queer world; that +preacher was the father of Noah Ezekiel Foster, who is now working for +Benson." + +She was looking out at the west, smiling; the desert wind pushed the +hair back from her forehead. "And the other time you played?" + +"That was up at Blindon, Colorado." He showed some reluctance to go +ahead. + +"Yes?" + +"An old doctor and his daughter came to the camp to invest. I +overheard them in the next room at the boarding house, and knew a gang +of sharks was selling them a fake mine. I tried to attract their +attention through the partition by playing a fool popular song--'If you +tell him yes; you are sure to cry, by and by.'" + +"Did you make them understand?" She had locked her hands round her +knees and leaned interestedly toward him. + +"Yes--and also the gang. The camp made up money to pay the undertaker +to bury me next day. I still have the receipt." + +"You have had a lot of experience," she said with a touch of envy. + +"More than the wisdom I have gathered justifies, I fear," he replied. + +"Experiences are interesting," she observed. "I haven't had many, but +I'm beginning. Daddy was professor of Sanskrit in a little one-horse +denominational college back in the hog-feeding belt of the Middle West. +Heavens!" she spoke with sudden fierceness, "can you imagine anything +more useless than teaching Sanskrit? His salary was two hundred +dollars a year less than the janitor's. I hated being poor; and I +hated worse the dry rot of that little faculty circle. The deadly +seriousness of their piffling, pedantic talk about fine-spun scholastic +points that were not interesting nor useful a thousand years ago, and +much less now that they are absolutely dead. I hated being prim and +pretentious. I could not stand it any longer, and made Daddy resign +and go somewhere to plant something. We came out here and I thought I +saw a fortune in cotton. + +"Daddy's worked like a galley slave getting this field in; he's done +the work of two men. With one Chinaman's help part of the time he's +got in a hundred and sixty acres of cotton. We've put through two hot +summers here; and spent every dollar we got for our household goods and +his life insurance. And now"--she was frowning in the dark--"we are +warned to get out." + +"Who warned you?" Bob asked quickly. + +"A Mexican named Madrigal. He has been right friendly to us; and +warned us last week that the Mexican Government is going to raise the +duty on cotton so high this fall that it will take all the profit. He +advises us to sell our lease for anything we can get." + +"Have you had an offer?" + +"Yes," she shrugged in the dusk and spoke with bitter weariness, "a +sort of an offer. Mr. Jenkins offered us $500. Daddy wanted to take +it, but I objected. I guess, though, it is better than nothing." + +Bob stood up, his muscles fairly knotted. He understood in a flash why +the Mexican Jew was going to Jenkins' office. They were stampeding the +small ranchers out of the country, and virtually stealing their leases. +The stars ran together in an angry blur. He felt a swelling of the +throat. It was lucky he was miles away from Reedy Jenkins. + +"Don't take it!" he said with vehemence. + + +Reedy Jenkins had just opened his office next morning and sat down at +the desk to read his mail when Bob Rogeen walked in. Reedy looked up +from a letter and asked greedily: + +"Did you get it?" + +"No." There was something ominous in Rogeen's tone. + +"Couldn't you persuade them to sell?" Jenkins was openly vexed. + +"I persuaded them not to." Bob's hands opened and shut as though they +would like to get hold of something. "I don't care for this job. I'm +done." + +"What's the idea?" There was a little sneer in Jenkins' tone. +"Decided you would go back to the old job selling pots and pans?" + +"No," and Bob's brown eyes, almost black now, looked straight into +Reedy's flushed, insolent face, "I'm going across the line to _raise +cotton_." + +Reedy's wide mouth opened in a contemptuous sneer. + +"It's rather hot over there for rabbits." + +"Yes," Bob's lips closed warningly, "and it may become oppressive for +wolves." + +Their eyes met defiantly for a moment, and each knew the other +understood--and it meant a fight. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +Bob had never known a resolution before. He thought he had, but he +knew now that all the rest compared to what he felt as he left Reedy +Jenkins' office were as dead cornstalks to iron rods. + +One night nearly nine years ago, when returning through the hills with +his fiddle under his arm, he had stopped at the door of his cabin and +looked up at the stars. The boisterous fun of an hour ago had all +faded out, leaving him dissatisfied and lonesome. He was shabbily +dressed, not a dollar in his pocket--not a thing in the world his own +but that fiddle--and he knew he was no genius with that. He was not +getting on in the world; he was not making anything of himself. It was +then that the first big resolution came to him: He would quit this +fooling and go to work; he would win in this game of life. Since then +in the main he had stuck to that resolution. He had not knowingly +passed any opportunity by; certainly he had dodged nothing because it +was hard. He had won a little here, and lost there, always hoping, +always tackling the new job with new pluck. Yet these efforts had been +simple; somebody had offered him a job and he tried to make good at +it--and usually had. But to win now, and win big as he was determined +to do, he must have a job of his own; and he would have to create that +job, organize it, equip it. + +"What I'll make it with--or just how--I don't know. But by all the +gods of the desert I'm going to win right here--in spite of the +thermometer, the devil, and Reedy Jenkins." + +To raise cotton one must have a lease, tools, teams, provisions--all of +which costs money; and he had just $167.35. But if that girl and her +Sanskrit father could get in a cotton crop, he could. It was not too +late. Cotton might be planted in the Imperial Valley even up to the +last of May. He would get a field already prepared if he could; if +not, then he would prepare it. + +And a man with a good lease and a good reputation could usually borrow +some money on which to raise a crop. Bob's mind again came back to the +Red Butte Ranch. It was so big that it almost swamped his imagination, +but if he was going to do big things he must think big. If he could +possibly sublease that ranch from Benson. But it would take $100,000 +to finance a five-thousand-acre cotton crop. Then he thought of Jim +Crill, the old man of the Texas oil fields who was looking for +investments. + +It was daring enough to seem almost fantastic, but Bob quickened his +step and turned toward the depot. He could yet catch the morning train +for Los Angeles. + +But he passed Benson on the way. The same morning Bob called at the +Los Angeles office Benson went to Reedy Jenkins in Calexico. + +The Red Butte lease had three years to run. Benson began by offering +the lease and all the equipment for $40,000. He had spent more than +$90,000 on it. + +Reedy pushed back the long black lock of hair from his forehead, shook +his head lugubriously, and grew pessimistically oratorical. Things +were very unsettled over the line: there was talk of increased Mexican +duty on cotton, of a raise in water rates; the price of cotton was +down; ranchers were coming out instead of going in; no sale at all for +leases. He himself had not had an offer for a lease in two months. + +They dickered for an hour. Reedy watching with a gloating shrewdness +the impractical fellow who had tried to farm with money. He knew +Benson had lost money on the last crop, and besides had been thoroughly +scared by the sly Madrigal. + +"I'm tired of the whole thing." Benson spoke with annoyed vexation. +"I tell you what I'll do: I'll walk off the ranch and leave you the +whole damn thing for $20,000." + +"I'll take it." Reedy knew when the limit was reached. "I'll pay you +$2,000 now to bind the bargain; and the balance within ten days." + +As Benson left the office with the check, Reedy began figuring +feverishly. It was the biggest thing he had ever pulled off. The +lease, even with cotton selling for only eight cents, was worth +certainly $50,000, the equipment at least $10,000 more. And the five +thousand acres was already planted and coming up! In the Imperial +Valley the planting is by far the most expensive part of the cotton +crop up to picking. It costs from seven to ten dollars an acre to get +it planted; after that it is easy. There are so few weeds and so +little grass that one man, with a little extra help once or twice +during the summer, can tend from forty to eighty acres. + +It was such an astounding bargain that Reedy's pink face grew a little +pale, and he moistened his lips as he figured. He was trying to +reassure himself that it would be dead easy to borrow the other +$18,000. He did not have it. In truth, he had only two hundred left +in the bank. He thought of Tom Barton and two of the banks from whom +he had already borrowed. They did not seem promising. Then he thought +of Jim Crill, and the pinkness came slowly back to his face. He smiled +doggishly as he picked up the phone, called El Centro, and asked for +Mrs. Evelyn Barnett. + +Mrs. Evelyn Barnett sat on the porch shaded by a wistaria vine, her +feet discreetly side by side on the floor, her hands primly folded in +her lap; her head righteously erect, as one who could wear her widow's +weeds without reproach, having been faithful to the very last ruffle of +her handsome dress to the memory of her deceased. + +She had insisted on taking Uncle Crill from the hotel, which was +ruining his digestion, and making a home for him. She had leased an +apartment bungalow, opening on a court, and with the aid of three +servants had, at great personal sacrifice, managed to give Uncle Crill +a "real home." True, Uncle was not in it very much, but it was there +for him to come back to. + +"Uncle," she had said, piously, showing him the homelike wonders that +three servants had been able to achieve in the six rooms, "in the +crudities of this horrid, uncouth country, we must keep up the +refinements to which we were accustomed in the East." The old +gentleman had grunted, remembering what sort of refinements they had +been accustomed to, but made no outward protests at being thus frillily +domesticated after ten years in the Texas oil fields. + +And as Mrs. Barnett sat on the porch this morning, fully and carefully +dressed, awaiting the result of that telephone message from Calexico, +she watched with rank disapproval her neighbours to the right and left. +It was quite hot already and Mrs. Borden on the right had come out on +the porch, dressed with amazing looseness of wrapper, showing a very +liberal opening at the throat, and stood fanning herself with a +newspaper. Mrs. Cramer on the left, having finished her sweeping, had +come out on the porch also, and in garments that indicated no padding +whatever dropped into a rocking chair, crossed her legs, made a dab at +her loosely piled hair to see it did not topple down, and proceeded to +read the morning newspaper. It was positively shocking, thought Mrs. +Barnett, how women could so far forget themselves. She never did. + +Directly her primly erect head turned slightly, and her eyes which +always seemed looking for something substantial--no dream stuff for +her--widened with satisfaction and she put her hand up to her collar to +see if the breastpin was in place. + +It was Reedy Jenkins who got out of the machine which stopped at the +entrance. He took off his hat when halfway to the porch--his black +hair was smoothly brushed--his face opened with a flattering smile and +he quickened his step. Mrs. Barnett permitted herself to rise, take +two short steps forward, and to smile reservedly as she offered her +hand. + +Reedy Jenkins had not exaggerated when he said he had a way with the +ladies. He did have. It was rather a broad way, but there are plenty +of ladies who are not subtle. + +"You have a lovely little place here." Reedy gave a short, approving +glance round as he took the offered chair. "It's wonderful what a +woman's touch can do to make a home. No place like home, if there is +some dear woman there to preside." + +Mrs. Barnett's mouth simpered at the implied flattery; but her eyes, +always looking calculatingly for substantial results, were studying +Reedy Jenkins. He certainly had handsome black hair, and he was well +dressed--and the manner of a gentleman. He reminded her of an +evangelist she had known back in Indiana. She had intended to marry +that evangelist if his wife died in time; but she did not. + +"It is very hard to do much here," Mrs. Barnett said, deprecatingly. +"There is so much dust, and the market is so poor, and servants are so +untrained and so annoying. But of course I do what little I can to +make dear Uncle a good home. It was a great sacrifice for me to come, +but when duty calls one must not think of self." + +"No, I suppose not." Reedy sighed and shook his head until the long +black lock dangled across the corner of his forehead--he did look like +that evangelist. "But I wish sometime that we could forget the other +fellow and think of ourselves. I'd have been a millionaire by now if I +hadn't been so chicken-hearted about giving the other fellow the best +of it." + +"We never lose by being generous," said Mrs. Barnett with conviction. + +"No, I suppose not," Reedy sighed. "No doubt it pays in the long run. +I know I've been put in the way of making many thousands of dollars +first and last by fellows I had been good to." Then Reedy looked at +Mrs. Barnett steadily and with wide admiration in his large +eyes--looked until she blushed very deeply. + +"It may be a rough place to live," said Reedy, "but it certainly has +been good for your colour. You are pink as a--a flower; you look +positively swee----" He broke off abruptly. "I beg your pardon; I +almost forgot myself." + +Then Reedy changed the subject to the matter of business on which he +had come. + +"Yes," Mrs. Barnett said, giving him her hand as he rose to go, "I'll +see Uncle to-night; and I'm sure Mr. Jenkins"--he still held her hand +and increased the pressure--"he'll be most glad to do it." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +Three days after Bob had returned from Los Angeles and found that Reedy +Jenkins had bought the Benson lease, he rode up from the Mexican side +and jumped off in front of the hardware store. Dayton was talking to +the old man with bushy eyebrows and a linen duster. + +"Here's Rogeen now," said the implement dealer. "Mr. Crill was just +inquiring about you, Bob." + +The two men shook hands. + +"How you comin'?" asked the old man, his blue eyes looking sharply into +Rogeen's. + +"I'm starting in on my own," replied Bob; "going to raise cotton over +the line." + +"Why?" The heavy brows worked frowningly. + +"Got to win through." Bob's brows also contracted and he shook his +head resolutely. "And I can't do it working by the month. Some men +can, but I can't." + +"See that?" The old gentleman pointed to a tractor with ten plows +attached. "That's success. Those plows are good and the engine is +good; but it's only when they are hooked up together they are worth +twenty teams and ten men. That's the way to multiply results--hook +good things together. Resolution and hard work aren't enough. Got to +have brains. Got to use 'em. Organize your forces. + +"Don't tell me," the old chap spoke with some heat, "that a man who +uses his brains and by one day's work makes something that saves a +million men ten days' work is only entitled to one day's pay. Not a +bit of it. He's entitled to part of what he saves every one of those +million men. That's the difference between a little success and a big +success. The little one makes something for himself; the big one makes +something for a thousand men--and takes part of it. Has a right to. +Those Chinamen across the line get sixty-five cents a day. If you can +manage them so they earn a dollar and a half a day and give them a +dollar and thirty cents of it and keep twenty cents, you are a public +benefactor as well as a smart man. That is the way to do it; use your +brains to increase other men's production and take a fair per cent. of +it, and you'll be both rich and honest." + +Bob's brown eyes were eagerly attentive. He liked this cryptic old +man. This was real stuff he was talking; and it was getting at the +bottom of Rogeen's own problem. All these years he had tried to +produce value single-handed. But to win big, he must think, plan, +organize so as to make money for many people, and therefore entitle +himself to large returns. + +"I'm going to try that very thing," he said. "I've just leased one +hundred and sixty acres. Half already planted in cotton, and I'm going +to plant the rest." + +Bob was proud of his achievement. He had been really glad he failed to +get the Red Butte Ranch. It was entirely too big to tackle without +capital or experience. But he had found a rancher anxious to turn +loose his lease for about half what he had spent improving it. Rogeen +then convinced a cotton-gin man that he was a good risk; and offered to +give him ten per cent. interest, half the cotton seed, and to gin the +crop at his mill if he would advance money sufficient to buy the lease +and raise the crop. The gin man had agreed to do it. + +Crill jerked his head approvingly. "Good move. That's the way to go +at it. Think first, then work like the devil at the close of a +revival." + +Crill paused, and then asked abruptly: + +"Know a man named Jenkins?" + +"Yes," replied Bob. + +"Is he safe?" + +Bob grinned. "About as safe as a rattlesnake in dog days." + +As Jim Crill stalked up the outside stairway of Reedy Jenkins' office, +the wind whipping the tail of the linen duster about his legs, he +carried with him two very conflicting opinions of Reedy--Mrs. Barnett's +and Bob Rogeen's. Maybe one of them was prejudiced--possibly both. +Well, he would see for himself. + +Reedy jumped up, gave his head a cordial fling, and grabbed Jim Crill's +hand as warmly as though he were chairman of the committee welcoming +the candidate for vice-president to a tank-station stop. Reedy +remembered very distinctly meeting Mr. Crill in Chicago five years ago. +In fact, Mr. Crill had for a long time been Mr. Jenkins' ideal of the +real American business man--shrewd, quick to think, and fearless in +action; willing to take a chance but seldom going wrong. + +"Evy said you wanted to see me about borrowing some money," the old man +dryly interrupted the flow of eloquence. + +"Yes--why, yes." Reedy brought up suddenly before he had naturally +reached his climax, floundered for a moment. "Why, yes, we have an +investment that I thought would certainly interest you." Reedy had +decided not only to get the old man to finance the Red Butte purchase +but his whole project. + +He began to explain his maps and figures as volubly as though he were +selling the Encyclopedia Britannica, and again the old man cut in: + +"How many acres you got leased?" + +"Ten thousand--practically." Reedy paused to answer, his pencil +touching the Dillenbeck Canal. + +"What did you pay for them?" + +"I got most of them for about a third to half what they cost the +ranchers." + +"Why did they sell so cheap?" + +"Oh," Reedy waved, vaguely evasive, "you know how that is; fellows are +like sheep--stampede into a country, and then one makes a break, and +they stampede out. Now that Benson has sold, a lot more of them will +get cold feet." + +"Altogether how much money have you put in over there?" + +"Forty-two thousand dollars," replied Reedy, consulting a memorandum. +"You understand," he continued to explain, "I'm not a cotton grower at +all; I am an investor. I'm dealing in leases; and I merely took over +the planted crop on the Benson leases because I got it so cheap there +is bound to be money in it." + +"What is it you want?" demanded Crill. + +"Seventy thousand or so for the lease and the crop. I have 8,000 acres +already planted, some of it coming up. I'll pay you 10 per cent. for +the money, and half the cotton seed, and give you first mortgage on the +crop. Those are the usual terms here." + +The sharp blue eyes under the shaggy brows had been investigating Reedy +as they talked. He wanted to make loans, for he had a lot of idle +money. "There are two sorts of men who pay their debts," the old man +said to himself. "One who wants to owe more, and one who doesn't want +to owe anything." Jenkins would want to borrow more, therefore he +would pay his first loan. Even rascals are usually good pay when they +are making money. And it looked like this fellow would make money on +these leases. Anyway, Jim Crill moved a little annoyedly in his chair +at the thought of his niece. It would be almost worth the risk to be +rid of Evy's nagging him about it. + +"Fix up the papers," he said, shortly, to Reedy's delight. He had +expected to have to work much harder on the old man. + +The next morning after the interview with Jim Crill Bob was at the +hardware store assembling the implements he had bought, when a tall, +shambling hill billy sauntered up. + +"Hello, Noah Ezekiel Foster," said Bob, without looking up. + +"Hello," responded the hill billy. "Reckon you know a hoss at long +range." + +"Reckon I do." Bob resumed his whistling. + +"Don't also know somebody that wants a chauffeur for a tractor? Benson +sold out my job." + +"No." Bob straightened up and looked at the lank fellow appraisingly. +"But I know a fellow who wants a chauffeur for a team of mules." + +Noah Ezekiel shook his head. "Me and mules have parted ways a long +time ago. I prefer gasoline." Then in a moment: "Who is the fellow?" + +Bob grinned and tapped himself. "I'm the man." + +Noah Ezekiel shook his head again. + +"You look too all-fired industrious; I'd rather work for a fellow that +lives at Los Angeles." + +Bob laughed. "Just as you like." + +But Noah Ezekiel ventured one more question: + +"You workin' for Reedy Jenkins?" + +"Not much!" Bob put emphasis in that. + +"Where is your ranch?" + +"On the road a couple of miles north of Chandler's." + +The hill billy's forehead wrinkled and his eyes looked off into empty +space. + +"I reckon I'll change my mind. I'll take the job. How much am I +gettin' a month?" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +Some men fail because they invest their money in bad business. More +fail because they invest themselves in sorry human material. They +trust their plans to people who cannot or will not carry them out. + +Bob from his first day as an employer realized that to be able to plan +and work himself was only half of success. One must be able to pick +men who will carry out his plans, must invest his brains, his +generosity, his fair treatment, and his affections in human beings who +will return him loyalty for loyalty. + +He had made no mistake in Noah Ezekiel Foster. Noah was a good cotton +planter; moreover, he knew a good deal about Chinese. Bob had employed +six Chinamen to help get the ground in shape and the cotton planted. + +"Noah," Bob stopped beside the disk plow and its double team, "you +understand mules." + +"I ought to." Noah rubbed his lean jaw. "I've been kicked by 'em +enough." + +Bob smiled. Somehow Noah's look of drollery always put him in a good +humour. He noticed it also tickled the Chinamen, who thought "Misty +Zeekee" one of the greatest of Anglo-Saxons. + +"You see," remarked Noah, picking up the lines again, "as my dad used +to say, 'He that taketh hold of the handles of a plow and looketh back, +verily, he shall be kicked by a mule.' I never calculate to be kicked +in the back. But if that Chinaman over there"--he frowned at a +Chinaboy who was fumbling over a cotton planter--"don't get a move on +him, he'll be kicked wherever he happens to hit my foot first. Hi, +there"--Noah threw up his head and yelled to the Chinaboy--"get a move +on. Plantee cotton. Goee like hellee." And the Chinaman did. + +Bob laughed. + +"Do you reckon you could let me have five dollars to-night?" Noah +Ezekiel asked, looking down at his plow. "I want to go up to the Red +Owl at Mexicali." + +"Not going to gamble, are you?" Bob asked. + +Noah Ezekiel shook his head. "No, I ain't goin' to gamble. Goin' to +invest the five in my education. I want to learn how many ways there +are for a fool and his money to part." + +After supper, when Noah Ezekiel had ridden away to invest his five +dollars in the educational processes of the Red Owl, Bob brought a +stool out of the house and sat down to rest his tired muscles and watch +the coming night a little while before he turned in. Bob and his +foreman occupied the same shack--the term "house," as Noah Ezekiel +said, being merely a flower of speech. Although there were several +hundred thousand acres of very rich land under cultivation on the +Mexican side, with two or three exceptions there was not a house on any +of the ranches that two men could not have built in one day and still +observe union hours. Four willow poles driven in the ground, a few +crosspieces, a thatch of arrowweed, three strips of plank nailed round +the bottom, some mosquito netting, and it was done. A Chinaman would +take another day off and build a smoking adobe oven; but Bob and Noah +had a second-hand oil stove on which a Chinese boy did their cooking. + +Bob sat and looked out over the level field in the dusk. A quarter of +a mile away the light glimmered in the hut of his Chinese help, and +there came the good-natured jabber of their supper activities. He felt +the expansive thrill of the planter, the employer--the man who +organizes an enterprise and makes it go. + +The heat of the day was already gone, and pleasant coolness was on the +night wind that brought the smell of desert sage from beyond the +watered fields. Bob stirred from the chair and got up. His tiredness +was gone. The desert night had him. He went into the shack and took +from an old scarred trunk his fiddle, and started down the road that +passed his ranch to the south. He had not yet called on the Chandlers. + + +The little house was dark. Rogeen wondered if the Chandlers were +asleep. But his heart took a quicker turn; he fancied he saw something +white in the yard--the girl was also feeling the spell of the desert +night. + +Then suddenly, but softly, a guitar thrummed, and a voice with the +half-wailing cadence of the Spanish took up the melody. + +Bob stood still, the blood crowding his veins until his face was hot +and his whole body prickled. This was Madrigal, the Mexican Jew. + +The song ended. Faintly came the clapping of hands, and the ripple of +a girl's laughter. Bob turned angrily and walked swiftly back up the +road, walked clear past his own ranch without noticing, and finally +turned aside by a clump of cottonwood trees along the levee of the main +irrigation canal. The water, a little river here, ran swiftly, +muddily, black under the desert stars. Bob lifted his fiddle and flung +it into the middle of the stream. + +The heat of his anger was gone. He felt instantly cold, and infinitely +lonesome. There upon the muddy water floated away the thousand songs +of the hills--the melody, the ecstasy, the colour and light of his +early youth. + +With sudden repentance he turned and dashed down the bank after the +hurrying current. The fall is rapid here, and the fiddle was already +far down the stream. He ran stumblingly, desperately, along the uneven +bank, dodging willows and arrowweed, stopping now and again to peer up +and down the stream. + +It was nowhere in sight. A sort of frenzy seized him. He had a queer +fancy that in that moment of anger he had thrown away his soul--all of +him that was not bread and dollars. He must get it back--he must! +Another dash, and again he stopped on the bank. Something darker than +the current bobbed upon the muddy water. Without a moment's hesitancy +he plunged into the stream and waded waist deep into the middle of the +current. + +Yes, it was his violin. Back on the bank, dripping wet, he hugged it +to him like a little girl with a doll that was lost and is found. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +The next morning at breakfast Noah Ezekiel remarked: + +"I wonder where that skunk got the money." + +"What skunk and what money?" Bob was pouring sirup on a pancake, a +product of much patience both on his part and the Chinese cook's. + +"Jenkins." Noah answered both questions in one word. "Not long ago he +had to borrow a dime for a doughnut. Last night he was at the Red Owl +gambling with both fists. And I heard he's bought altogether ten +thousand acres in leases. 'Verily,' as dad used to say, 'the sinner +flourisheth like a thorn tree.'" + +"Do you know if he has bought Chandler's?" Bob asked, casually, not +meeting Noah's eye. + +"No, but I reckon he will. He seems out for a clean-up." + +"If you see the Chandlers," suggested Rogeen, "advise them not to sell." + +Noah Ezekiel reached for the towel to wipe his mouth, and shook his +head. + +"I ain't strong on giving advice. I believe in doin' as you'd be done +by, and most all the advice I ever got was as hard to take as castor +oil. Advice is like givin' a dog ipecac--it may break him of suckin' +eggs, but it sure is hard on the dog." + +Bob laughed and got up and started to work. + +The first Saturday in June Rogeen and Noah quit at noon, for the rush +was over. + +"I reckon," Noah insinuated, suavely, "if you are feelin' right good I +might strike you for another five to-night." + +"Certainly," said Bob. "But look here, Noah, you ought not to gamble +away your wages." + +Noah Ezekiel pulled a long face. + +"You sound like my dad. And I ain't fully persuaded you are enough of +a saint to preach." + +"You are incorrigible, Zeke," Bob laughed. "And I think I'll go with +you to-night to the Red Owl." + +Noah shook his head. "I wouldn't advise it. Gamblin' ain't to be +recommended to employers. It's liable to put wages in japordy." + +"I am not going to gamble," said Bob. "I am looking for a man--a +couple of them, in fact." + + +Reedy Jenkins had returned to his office about two o'clock after making +a complete circuit of his leases. The crop looked fine--so everybody +told him. He knew little about cotton, but Ah Sing was a wonderful +farmer--he knew how to handle the Chinese labourer. + +Then he looked at his watch and frowned. He wished that blankety-blank +Mexican would be more prompt in keeping his appointments. He wanted to +get away. He was to drive to El Centro for a visit with Mrs. Barnett +and then to-night he would return for a little recreation across the +line. + +It was nearly four when Madrigal finally appeared, wearing an expensive +white summer suit and a jaunty straw hat. "He is a handsome devil," +thought Reedy, eying him with disfavour because of his lateness. The +Mexican took off his straw hat attached to a buttonhole by a silk cord, +and pushed up his black pompadoured hair. + +"Have you got the Chandler ranch yet?" Jenkins came directly to the +point. + +"Not yet, senor." Madrigal's bold, dark eyes smiled with supreme +confidence. "Not yet--but soon." + +The Mexican stood up and returned his hat to his head. He put up his +hands as though strumming a guitar, turned up his eyes languishingly, +and hummed a flirting air. + +"If this, senor," he said, breaking off, "does not win the senorita, we +will try--what you call hem--direct action. You shall have your ranch, +never fear." + +"And that damned Rogeen--what of him?" + +The Mexican smiled sinisterly. "He get news tonight that make heem +lose much sleep. + +"Now may I trouble Senor Jenkins for fifty dollar?" + +Reedy grumbled, but paid. The Mexican lifted his hand, pressed it to +his heart, and bowed with mocking gallantry. + +"Until to-night, senor." + +[Illustration: Lolita tries her wiles on Percy.] + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +Reedy Jenkins and Mrs. Barnett sat in a cool, shadowed corner of the +porch. Reedy took a plump yellow cigar from his vest pocket, and with +a deferential bow: + +"Will you permit me?" + +"Certainly, Mr. Jenkins." Mrs. Barnett spoke in a liberal-minded tone. +"I do not object at all to the fragrance of a good cigar--especially +out of doors." + +"It is a vile habit," said Jenkins, deprecatingly, as he began to puff. +"But after a fellow has worked hard on some big deal, and is all strung +up, it seems to offer a sort of relaxation. Of course, I think a man +ought to smoke in reason. We are coarse brutes at the best--and need +all the refining influences we can get." + +"I think it is bad for the throat," said Evelyn Barnett. "That is what +I tell Uncle Crill. He smokes entirely too much." + +Uncle Crill was absent. He usually was. The old chap was willing for +Evy to save his digestion within reason--but not his soul. + +"My dear friend," Reedy made a rather impetuous gesture with his right +hand toward the demure widow, "it was splendid of you to persuade your +uncle to lend me that money for the big deal. It was the sort of thing +that one never forgets. We have plenty of friends willing to help us +spend our money, but only a few, a very few loyal ones, willing to help +us make it. + +"Depend upon it, my dear young lady, I'll not forget that +favour--never. And as I promised before I shall give you personally +one fourth of the profits." + +Mrs. Barnett gave her head a little depreciating twist and smoothed the +dress over her right knee. + +"That will be very generous of you, Mr. Jenkins. But of course one +does not do things for one's friends for money. Not but I can use +it--to do good with," she hastened. + +"My poor husband would have left me a comfortable fortune in my own +right if it had not been for the meddlesomeness of some one who had no +business to interfere. + +"Mr. Barnett was a mine owner--and a most excellent business man. He +had large interests in Colorado. One mine he was going to sell. An +old gentleman and his daughter were just ready to buy it. The papers +were all drawn, and they were to pay over their money that evening. +But some horrid young man, a wandering fiddler or something, got to +meddling and persuaded them not to trade. + +"It was an awful loss to poor Tom. He was to have had $60,000 out of +the sale--and he never got one cent out of that mine, not a cent." + +"What did they do to that fellow that broke up the trade?" asked Reedy, +puffing interestedly at his cigar. + +"Oh, Mr. Barnett said they taught him a lesson that would keep him from +spoiling any more trades." Mrs. Barnett laughed. And then accusingly: +"Isn't it queer how mean some people are. Now just that little +interference from that meddlesome stranger kept me from having a small +fortune." A deep sigh. "And one can do so much good with money. Just +think if I had that money how many poor people around here I could +help. I hear there are families living across the line in little +shacks--one or two rooms with dirt floors--and no bathroom. Isn't it +awful? And women, too!" + +Reedy twisted his chair about so he looked squarely at the widow. The +sun had gone down, and the quick twilight was graying the row of palm +trees that broke the skyline to the south. Jenkins was in a hurry to +get away, but his visit was not quite rounded out. + +"You must be very lonely," he said with a deep, sad voice--"since your +husband died. Loneliness--ah loneliness! is the great ache of the +human heart." + +"Y-e-s. Oh, yes," Mrs. Barnett did not sound utterly desolate. "But +of course, Mr. Barnett being away so much----" There was a significant +pause. "He was an excellent man--a good business man, but you know. +Well, some people are more congenial than others. We never had a cross +word in our lives. But--well--our tastes were different, you know." + +Reedy smoked and nodded in appreciative silence. The dusk came fast. +Mrs. Barnett rustled her starched skirts and sighed. + +"You know, Mr. Jenkins," she began on a totally different subject, "it +has been such a pleasure to me to meet someone out here in this +God-forsaken country with fine feelings--one who loves the higher +things of life." + +"Thank you, Mrs. Barnett." Reedy bowed in all seriousness. + +A moment later when he took his leave he held her hand a thought longer +than necessary, and pressed it as though in a sympathetic impulse for +her loneliness--or his--or maybe just because. + +It was dark as Reedy threw the clutch into high and put his foot on the +accelerator. He was out of town too quick to be in danger of arrest +for speeding. He was late. The three others who were to seek +recreation for the evening with him would be waiting. + +And biting the end of his cigar he said fervently: + +"Thank God for Jim Crill--and his niece." + +Reedy's three friends were waiting--but dinner was ready. They had +ordered a special dinner at the Pepper Tree Hotel, served out in a +little pergola in the back yard. + +They were all hearty eaters, but not epicures; and anyway they did not +take time to taste much. From where they sat they could look out +between the latticed sides of the pergola across the Mexican line, and +see above and beyond the squat darker buildings a high arch of winking +electric lights. + +That was the Red Owl. + +And while they talked jerkily and broadly of cotton and real +estate--and women, their thoughts were over there with those winking +lights. + +Just across the line there was the old West again--the West of the +early Cripple Creek days, of Carson City and Globe. Still wide open, +still raw, still unashamed. + +Over there underneath these lights, in that great barnlike structure, +were scores of tables across which fortunes flowed every night. There +men met in the primitive hunt for money--quick money, and won--and +lost, and lost, and lost. + +There, too, the tinkle of a piano out of tune, the blare of a +five-piece orchestra, and the raucous singing of girls who had lost +their voices as significantly as other things. And beyond that, along +shadowy corridors, were other girls standing or sitting in +doorways--lightly dressed. + +"Well, are you fellows through?" Reedy had pushed back his chair. +"Let's go." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +It was perhaps an hour later that Bob Rogeen went down the main street +of the Mexican town, also headed for the Owl. Off this main street +only a few lights served to reveal rather than dissipate the night. +But under the dimness Mexicali was alive--a moving, seething, +passionate sort of aliveness. The sidewalks were full, the saloons +were busy. In and out of the meat shops or the small groceries +occasionally a woman came and went. But the crowd was nearly all +men--Mexicans, Chinamen, American ranchers and tourists, Germans, +Negroes from Jamaica, Filipinos, Hindus with turbans. All were +gathered in this valley of intense heat--this ancient bed of the sea +now lower than the sea--not because of gold mines or oil gushers, but +for the wealth that grew from the soil: the fortunes in lettuce, in +melons, in alfalfa, and in cotton. + +"Odd," thought Bob, "that the slowest and most conservative of all +industries should find a spot of the earth so rich that it started a +stampede almost like the rush to the Klondike, of men who sought sudden +riches in tilling the soil." + +Across the way from a corner saloon came the twang of a mandolin; and +half a dozen Mexican labourers began singing a Spanish folk song. In a +shop at his right a Jap girl sold soda water; in another open door an +old Chinaman mended shoes; and from another came the click of billiard +balls. But most of the crowd was moving toward the Owl. + +As Bob stepped inside the wide doors of the gambling hall the scene +amazed him. There were forty tables running--roulette, blackjack, +craps, stud poker--and round them men crowded three to five deep. Down +the full length of one side of the room ran a bar nearly a hundred and +fifty feet long, and in the rear end of the great barnlike structure +thirty or forty girls, most of them American, sang and danced and +smoked and drank with whosoever would buy. + +Bob stood to one side of the surging crowd that milled round the gaming +tables, and watched. There was no soft-fingered, velvet-footed glamour +about this place. No thick carpets, rich hangings, or exotic perfumes. +Most of the men were direct from the fields with the soil of the day's +work upon their rough overalls--and often on their faces and grimy +hands. The men who ran the games were in their shirt sleeves, alert, +sweatingly busy; some of them grim, a few predatory, but more of them +easily good-natured. The whole thing was swift, direct, businesslike. +Men were trying to win money from the house; and the house was winning +money from them. This was raw gambling, raw drinking, raw vice. It +was the old Bret Harte days multiplied by ten. + +And yet there was a fascination about it. Bob felt it. It is idiotic +to deny that gambling, which is the lure of quick money reduced to +minutes and seconds, has not a fascination for nearly all men. As Bob +stood leaning with his back against the bar--there was no other place +to lean, not one place in that big hall to sit down--the scene filled +him with the tragedy of futile trust in luck. + +All these men knew that a day's work, a bale of cotton, a crate of +melons, a cultivator--positive, useful things--brought money, positive, +useful returns. And yet they staked that certainty on a vague belief +in luck--and always, and always lost the certainty in grabbing for the +shadow. + +Most of these men were day labourers, clerks, small-salaried men. It +cost a thousand dollars a day to run this house, and it made another +thousand dollars in profits. Two thousand dollars--a thousand days' +hard work squandered every night by the poor devils who hoped to get +something easy. And some of them squandered not merely one day's work +but a month's or six months' hard, sweaty toil flipped away with one +throw of the dice or one spin of the ball. + +While Bob's eyes watched the ever-shifting crowd that moved from table +to table he saw Rodriguez, the man for whom he was searching. He was +with Reedy Jenkins and three others coming from that end of the +building devoted to alleged musical comedy. Besides the natty +Madrigal, the sad-looking Rodriguez and Reedy, there were a Mexican and +an American Bob did not know. All of them except Rodriguez wore +expensive silk shirts and panama hats, and had had several drinks and +were headed for more. Reedy, pink and expansive, chuckling and +oratorical, was evidently the host. He was almost full enough and +hilarious enough to do something ridiculous if the occasion offered. + +After two more rounds of drinks the party started for the gaming +tables. The crowd was too thick for them to push their way in as a +body, so they scattered. Reedy bought ten dollars' worth of chips at a +roulette table, played them in stacks of twenty, and lost in three +minutes. As he turned away he caught sight of Bob Rogeen and came +across to him. + +"Hello, Cotton-eyed Joe," he said with drunken jocularity, "let's have +a drink." + +"Thanks," replied Bob, "my wildest dissipation is iced rain water." + +Bob just then caught sight of Noah Ezekiel and moved away from Reedy +Jenkins. He felt it safer--especially for Reedy, to stay out of reach +of him. + +Noah Ezekiel's lank form was leaning against a roulette table, a stack +of yellow chips in front of him. + +"Hello," said the hill billy as Bob edged his way up to his side. + +"How is it going?" asked Bob. + +"Fine," answered Noah, carefully laying five chips in the shape of a +star. "I got a system and I'm going to clean 'em up." + +Bob smiled and watched. The wheel spun around. The ball slowed and +dropped on 24. Noah's magical star spread around 7. The dealer +reached over and wiped in his five chips. + +"You see," Noah explained, taking it for granted Bob knew nothing of +the games, "this is ruelay. You play your money on one number and then +rue it." The hill billy chuckled at his pun. "There are 36 numbers on +the table," he pointed a long forefinger, "and there are 36 numbers on +the wheel. You put your money or chip--the chips are five cents +apiece--on one number, and if the ball stops at that number on the +wheel, you win 35 times what you played." + +"But if it doesn't stop on your number?" said Bob. + +"Then you are out of luck." Noah Ezekiel had again begun to place his +chips. + +"Of course," he explained, "you play this thing dozens of ways; one to +two on the red or black, or you can play one to three on the first, +second or third twelve. Or you can play on the line between two +numbers, and if either number wins you get 17 chips." + +Noah won this time. The number in the centre of his star came up and +he got 67 chips. + +"Better quit now, hadn't you?" suggested Bob. + +"Nope--just beginning to rake 'em in," replied Noah. + +"Wish you would," said Bob, "and show me the rest of the games." + +Noah reluctantly cashed in. He had begun with a dollar and got back +$4.60. + +"You see," said Noah, clinking the silver in his hands as they moved +away, "this is lots easier than work. The only reason I work for you +is out of the kindness of my heart. I made that $4.60 in twenty +minutes." + +"Here is craps." They had stopped at a table that looked like a gutted +piano, with sides a foot above the bottom. + +"You take the dice"--Noah happened to be in line and got them as the +last man lost--"and put down say a half dollar." He laid one on the +line. "You throw the two dice. If seven comes up---- Ah, there!" he +chuckled. "I done it." The face of the dice showed [3 and 4]. "You +see I win." The dealer had thrown down a half dollar on top of Noah's. +"Now, come, seven." Noah flung them again. + +Sure enough seven came up again. A dollar was pitched out to him. He +left the two dollars lying. This time he threw eleven and won again. +Four dollars! Noah was in great glee. + +"Let's go," urged Bob. + +"One more throw," Noah brought up a 6 this time. + +"Now," he explained, "I've got to throw until another 6 comes. If I +get a seven before I do a six, they win." His next throw was a seven, +and the dealer raked in the four dollars. + +"Oh, well," sighed Noah, "only fifty cents of that was mine, anyway. +And the poor gamblers have to live. + +"This," he explained, stopping at a table waist high around which a +circle of men stood with money and cards in front of them, "is Black +Jack. + +"You put down the amount of money you want to bet. The banker deals +everybody two cards, including himself. But both your cards are face +down, while his second card is face up. + +"The game is to see who can get closest to 21. You look at your cards. +All face cards count for ten; ace counts for either 1 or 11 as you +prefer. + +"If your cards don't add enough, you can get as many more as you ask +for. But if you ask for a card and it makes you run over 21, you lose +and push your money over. Say you get a king and a 9--that is 19, and +you stand on that, and push your cards under your money. + +"When all the rest have all the cards they want, the dealer turns his +over. Say he has a 10 and a 8. He draws. If he gets a card that puts +him over 21, he goes broke and pays everybody. But if he gets say +18--then he pays all those who are nearer 21 than he; but all who have +less than 18 lose." + +While Noah had been explaining, he had been playing, and lost a dollar +on each of two hands. + +They moved on to a chuck-a-luck game. + +"This, you see," said Noah, "is a sort of bird cage with three +overgrown dice. You put your money on any one of these six numbers. +He whirls the cage and shakes up the fat dice. They fall--and if one +of the three numbers which come up is yours, you win. +Otherwise--ouch!" Noah had played a dollar on the 5; and a 1, 2 and a +6 came up. + +As they moved away Noah was shaking his head disconsolately. + +"Money is like a shadow that soon flees away--and you have to hoe +cotton in the morning." + +"Don't you know," said Bob, earnestly, "that everyone of these games +give the house from 6 to 30 per cent., and that you are sure to lose in +the end?" + +"Yeah," said Noah, wearily. "You're sure to die in the end, too; but +that don't keep you from goin' on tryin' every day to make a livin' and +have a little fun. It's all a game, and the old man with the mowin' +blade has the last call." + +"But," persisted Bob, "when you earn a thing and get what you earn, it +is really yours, and has a value and gives a pleasure that you can't +get out of money that comes any other way." + +"Don't you believe it," Noah shook his head lugubriously. "The easier +money comes the more I enjoy it. Only it don't never come. It goes. +This here gamblin' business reminds me of an old dominecker hen we used +to have. That hen produced an awful lot of cackle but mighty few eggs. +It is what my dad would have called the shadow without the substance. +But your blamed old tractor gives me a durned lot more substance than I +yearn for." + +They were still pushing among the jostling crowd. There were more than +a thousand men in the hall--and a few women. Soiled Mexicans passed +through the jostle with trays on their heads selling sandwiches and +bananas. Fragments of meat and bread and banana peelings were +scattered upon the sawdust floor. It was a grimy scene. And yet Bob +still acknowledged the tremendous pull of it--the raw, quick action of +the stuff that life and death are made of. + +Noah nudged Bob and nodded significantly toward the bar, where Reedy +with his three friends and two or three Mexicans, including Madrigal, +were drinking. + +"He's cookin' up something agin you," said Noah in a low tone. "Better +go over and talk to him. He's gettin' full enough to spill some of it." + +Bob took the suggestion and sauntered over toward the bar. As he +approached, Reedy turned around and nodded blinkingly at him. + +"Say," Reedy leaned his elbows on the bar and spoke in a propitiatory +tone, "I'sh sorry you went off in such a huff. Right good fello', I +understand. If you'd asked me, I'd saved you lot of trouble and money +on that lease." Reedy stopped to hiccough. "Even now, take your lease +off your hands at half what it cost." + +"So?" Bob smiled sarcastically. + +"Well, hell," Reedy was nettled at the lack of appreciation of his +generosity, "that's a good deal better than nothing." + +"My lease is not on the market," Bob replied, dryly. + +"Now look here!" Reedy half closed his plump eyes and nodded +knowingly. "'Course you are goin' to sell--I got to have four more +ranches to fill out my farm--and when I want 'em I get 'em, see? As +Davy Crockett said to the coon, 'Better come on down before I shoot, +and save powder.'" + +"Shoot," said Bob, contemptuously. + +"Now look here," Reedy lurched still closer to Bob, and put his plump +fingers down on the bar as though holding something under his hand; "I +got unlimited capital back of me--million dollars--two million--all I +want. That's on 'Merican side--on this side--I got pull. See? Fifty +ways I can squelch you--just like that." He squeezed his plump, soft +hand together as though crushing a soft-shelled egg. + +"You are drunk," Bob said, disgustedly, "and talking through a sieve." +He moved away from him and sauntered round the hall. At one of the +tables he came upon Rodriguez, the man he was looking for. + +He looked more Spanish than Mexican, had a moustache but did not curl +it, a thin face and soft brown eyes, and the pensive look of a poet who +is also a philosopher. + +"Well?" Bob questioned in an undertone as they drifted outside of the +gambling hall and stood in the shadows beyond the light of the open +doors. "Did you learn anything?" + +Rodriguez nodded. "They have two, three plans to make you get out. +Senor Madrigal is--what you call hem?--detec--detectave in Mexico. +Ver' bad man. He work for Senor Jenkins on the side." + +Bob left his Mexican friend. He stood in the shadow of the great +gambling hall for a moment, pulled in opposite directions by two +desires. He remembered a red spot on Reedy Jenkins' cheek just under +his left eye that he wanted to hit awfully bad. He could go back and +smash him one that would knock him clear across the bar. On the other +hand, he wanted to get on his horse and ride out into the silence and +darkness of the desert and think. After all, smashing that red spot on +Reedy's cheek would not save his ranch. He turned quickly down the +street to where his horse was hitched. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +One of the hardest layers of civilization for a woman to throw off is +the cook stove. She can tear up her fashion plates, dodge women's +clubs, drop her books, forsake cosmetics and teas, and yet be fairly +happy. But to the last extremity she clings to her cook stove. + +Imogene Chandler had her stove out in the open at a safe distance from +the inflammable weed roof of the "house." The three joints of +stovepipe were held up by being wired to two posts driven in the ground +beside it. + +The girl alternately stuffed light, dry sticks into the stove box, and +then lifted the lid of a boiling kettle to jab a fork into the potatoes +to see if they were done. The Chandler larder was reduced to the point +where Imogene in her cooking had to substitute things that would do for +things that tasted good. + +Chandler, in from the field, filled a tin washbasin at the tank, set it +on a cracker box, and proceeded to clean up for supper. He rolled his +sleeves up far above his elbows and scrubbed all the visible parts of +his body from the top of his bald head to the shoulder blade under the +loose collar of his open-necked shirt. About the only two habits from +his old life that clung to the ex-professor were his use of big words +and soap. + +Chandler sat down at the little board table, also out in the open. It +was after sundown and the heat was beginning to abate. As Imogene +poured coffee into the pint tin cup beside his plate she looked down at +him with protective admiration. + +"Dad, I'm proud of you. You've got a tan that would be the envy of an +African explorer; and you are building up a muscle, too; you are almost +as good a man in the field as a Chinese coolie--really better than a +Mexican." + +"It has been my observation," said the ex-professor, tackling the +boiled potatoes with a visible appetite, "that when a man quits the +scholarly pursuits he instinctively becomes an agriculturist. Business +is anathema to me; but I must confess that it gives me pleasure to +watch the germination of the seed, and to behold the flower and +fruitage of the soil." + +Imogene laughed. "It is the fruitage that I'm fond of--especially when +it is a bale to the acre. And it is going to make that this year or +more; I never saw a finer field of cotton." + +"It is doing very well," Chandler admitted with pride. "Yet, ah, +perhaps there is one field better, certainly as good, and that is the +American's north of here; the person you referred to as a fiddler." + +"Daddy," and under the tone of raillery was a trace of wistfulness, +"we've lived like Guinea Negroes here for three years, and yet I +believe you like it. I don't believe you'd go back right now as +professor of Sanskrit at Zion College." + +The little professor did not reply, but remarked as he held out the cup +for another pint of coffee: + +"I notice I sleep quite soundly out here, even when the weather is +excessively hot." + +The girl smiled and felt fully justified in the change she had forced +in his way of living. + +"I think," remarked Chandler, reflectively, "at the end of the month +I'll let Chang Lee go. I think I can some way manage the rest of the +season alone." + +"Perhaps," assented Imogene, soberly, as she began to pick up the +knives and forks and plates. She had not told him that when Chang +Lee's wages for June were paid it would leave them less than twenty +dollars to get through the summer on. "I've been learning to irrigate +the cotton rows and I can help," she said. "It will be a lot of fun." + +The ex-professor was vaguely troubled. He knew in a remote sort of way +that their finances were at a low ebb. Imogene always attended to the +business. + +"Do you suppose, daughter," he asked, troubled, "that it is practical +for us to continue in our present environment for another season?" + +"Surest thing, you know," she laughed reassuringly. "Run along now to +bed; you are tired." He sighed with a delicious sense of relief and +sleepiness, and went. + +But Imogene was not tired enough either to sit still or to sleep. She +got up and walked restlessly round the camp. Known problems and +unknown longings were stirring uneasily in her consciousness. + +She stood at the edge of the field where the long rows of cotton +plants, freshly watered, grew rank and green in the first intense heat +of summer. There was a full moon to-night--a hazy, sleepy full moon +with dust blown across its face creeping up over the eastern desert. + +Just a little while ago and it was all desert. Two years ago when they +first came this cotton field was uneven heaps of blown sand, desert +cactus, and mesquite--barren and forbidding as a nightmare of thirst +and want. It had taken a year's work and nearly all their meagre +capital to level it and dig the water ditches. And the next year--that +was last year--the crop was light and the price low. They had barely +paid their debts and saved a few hundred for their next crop. Now that +was gone, and with it six hundred, the last dollar she could borrow at +the bank. Just how they were going to manage the rest of the summer +she did not know. And worst of all were these vague but persistent +rumours and warnings that the ranchers were somehow to be robbed of +their crops. + +She turned and walked back into the yard of the little shack and stood +bareheaded looking at the moon, the desert wind in her face. Another +summer of heat was coming swiftly now. She had lived through two +seasons of that terrific heat when the sun blazed all day, day after +day, and the thermometer climbed and climbed until it touched the 130 +mark. And all these two years had been spent here at this shack, with +its dirt yard and isolation. + +The desert had bit deeply into her consciousness. Even the heat, the +wind-driven sand, the stillness, the aloneness of it had entered into +her soul with a sort of fascination. + +"I'm not sorry," she shut her hands hard and pressed her lips close +together, "even if we do lose--but we must not lose! We can't go on in +poverty, either here or over there. We must not lose--we must not!" + +She turned her head sharply; something toward the road had moved; some +figure had appeared a moment and then disappeared. A fear that was +never wholly absent made her move toward the door of her own shack. A +revolver hung on a nail there. + +And then out on the night stole the singing, quivering note of a +violin. Instantly the fear was gone, the tension past, and the tears +for the first time in all the struggle slipped down her cheeks. She +knew now that for weeks she had been hoping he would come again. + +When the violin cords ceased to sing, Imogene clapped her hands warmly, +and the fiddler rose from beside a mesquite bush and came toward her. + +"I'm glad you brought it this time," she said as he approached and sat +down on a box a few feet away. "That was the best music I have heard +for years." + +"The best?" he questioned. + +She caught the meaning in his emphasis and smiled to herself as she +answered: "The best violin music." Although her face was in the +shadow, the moonlight was on her hair and shoulders. Something in her +figure affected him as it had that night when she stood in the +doorway--some heroic endurance, some fighting courage that held it +erect, and yet it was touched by a yearning as restless and unsatisfied +as the desert wind. Bob knew her father was incapable of grappling +alone with the problems of life. This project had all been hers; it +was her will, her brain, her courage that had wrought the change on the +face of this spot of desert. Yet how softly girlish as she sat there +in the moonlight; and how alone in the heart of this sleeping desert in +an alien country. He wished she had not qualified that praise of his +playing. Bob knew very little about women. + +"How do you like being a cotton planter?" She was first to break the +silence. + +"Oh, very well." He turned his eyes from her for the first time, +looked down at his fiddle, and idly picked at one of the strings. "But +of course I can't truthfully say I love manual labour. I can do it +when there is something in it; but I much prefer a hammock and a shade +and a little nigger to fan me and bring me tall glasses full of iced +drinks." + +She laughed, for she knew already he had the reputation of being one of +the best workers in the valley. + +"But this country has me," he added. "It fascinates me. When I make a +fortune over here I'm going across on the American side and buy a big +ranch. + +"You know"--he continued softly to strum on the violin strings--"this +Imperial Valley seems to me like a magic spot of the tropics, some land +of fable. Richer than the valley of the Nile it has lain here beneath +the sea level for thousands of years, dead under the breath of the +desert, until a little trickle of water was turned in from the Colorado +River, and then it swiftly put forth such luxuriant wealth of food and +clothes and fruit and flowers that its story sounds like the demented +dreams of a bankrupt land promoter." + +"I am glad you like it," she said, "and I hope you'll get your share of +the fabled wealth that it is supposed to grow--and, oh, yes, by the +way, do you happen to need another Chinaman?" + +"No, I've got more than I can pay now." + +"We are going to let Chang Lee go the last of the month. He's a good +Chinaman, and I wanted him to have a job." + +"Why let him go?" + +"We won't need him." + +"Won't need him!" Bob exclaimed. "With a hundred and sixty acres of +cotton to irrigate and keep chopped out?" + +"I can do a lot of the irrigating"--the girl spoke a little +evasively--"and daddy can manage the rest." + +He knew this was another case of exhausted funds. + +"Can't you borrow any more?" + +She laughed a frank confession. + +"You guessed it. We haven't money to pay him. I've borrowed six +hundred on the crop, and can't get another dollar." + +He sat silent for several minutes looking off toward the cotton fields +that would cry for water to-morrow in their fight against the eternal +desert that brooded over this valley, thinking of her pluck. It made +him ashamed of any wavering thought that ever scouted through his own +mind. + +He stood up. "And are you going to see it through?" + +Alone beside the field as the moon rose she had wavered in doubt; but +the answer came now with perfect assurance. + +"Most surely." + +"So am I," he said. "Good-night." + +But before he turned she put out her hand to touch his violin--her +fingers touched his hand instead. + +"Please--just once more," she asked. + +He laughed whimsically as he sat down on the box and drew the bow. + +"I'm proud of the human race," he said, "that fights for bread and +still looks at the stars." + +He began to play: he did not know what. It might have been something +he had heard; but anyway to-night it was his and hers, the song of the +rose that fought the desert all day for its life and then blossomed +with fragrance in the night. + +At the sound of the violin a man sitting on the edge of the canal by +the cottonwood trees stirred sharply. There was a guitar across his +knee. He had been waiting for the sound of voices to cease; and now +the accursed fiddle was playing again. He spat vindictively into the +stream. + +"Damn the Americano!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +Bob saw as he turned into the Bungalow Court at El Centro a youngish +woman in white sitting on the second porch. In spite of the absence of +the weeds he recognized her as the widow who had come down the street +that other morning to meet Jim Crill. This, then, was Crill's place. +Evidently the twelve months of bereavement had elapsed, and Mrs. +Barnett, having done her full duty, felt that the ghost of her departed +could no longer have any just complaints if she wore a little white of +her own. + +Bob had come to see Crill. Since that evening with Imogene Chandler he +had worried a good deal about their being without money. He had tried +to get the ginning company that had advanced his own funds to make them +a loan. But everybody had grown wary and quit lending across the line. +Bob as a last resort had come up to see if Crill could be induced to +help. + +"Good morning." Rogeen lifted his straw hat as he stood on the first +step of the porch, and smiled. "Is Mr. Crill at home?" + +"No." Mrs. Barnett had nodded rather stiffly in response to his +greeting, and lifted her eyes questioningly. She was waiting for +someone else, and hence felt no cordiality for this stranger, whom she +dimly seemed to remember. + +"When will he be in?" The young man was obviously disappointed, and he +really was good to look at. + +"I don't know exactly." Mrs. Barnett relented slightly, having glanced +down the road to be sure another machine was not coming. "But as I +attend to much of his business, perhaps if you will tell me what it is +you want I can arrange it for you. Won't you come up and have a chair?" + +Bob accepted the invitation, not that he intended to mention his +business to her, but he had a notion that Jim Crill was due to arrive +about lunch time. + +"Are you from the East?" That was Mrs. Barnett's idea of tactful +flattery. She asked it of all callers. + +"Yes." + +"What part, may I ask?" + +"All parts," he smiled, "east of here and west of the Mississippi." + +"It is so different here," Mrs. Barnett lifted her brows and raised her +eyes as though she were singing "The Lost Chord," "from what I am used +to." + +"Yes," assented Bob, "it is different from what I am used to. That is +why I like it." + +"Oh, do you?" Shocked disappointment in her tone implied that it was +too bad he was not a kindred spirit. "I find everything so crude; and +such loose standards here." A regretful shake of the head. "The women +especially"--she thought of her tact again--"seem to have forgotten all +the formalities and nice conventions of good society--if they ever +knew. I suppose most of them were hired girls and clerks before they +were married." + +[Illustration: Reedy Jenkins makes a proposition to Imogene.] + +Bob made no comment. He did not know much about "nice formalities," +but it had struck him that the women of Imperial Valley were uncommonly +good, friendly human beings, and he had seen a number of college +diplomas scattered round the valley. + +"I heard of a woman recently," Mrs. Barnett went on, "who in the East +was in college circles; now she's living in a hut. Think of it, a hut +over on the other side among the Chinese and Mexicans! The only woman +there, and practically alone. It seems perfectly incredible! I don't +see how any decent woman could do a thing like that. Why, I'd rather +work in somebody's kitchen. There, at least, one could be respectable." + +Bob got up. + +"I guess I'll not wait longer for Mr. Crill," he said, and he went down +the steps, walking with rapid aversion. If Jim Crill left his business +to this female, he didn't want any of his money for the Chandlers. + +The ginning company had agreed to lend Bob up to $1,500 on the crop, +advancing it along as he needed it. He was renting his teams, and had +bought very little machinery, so he had managed to use less than his +estimate. On his way back to the ranch he stopped at the company's +office in Calexico, and drew two hundred dollars more on the loan. + +A few days later Rogeen, watching his opportunity, saw Chandler riding +alone toward town, and went out to the road and stopped him. After +some roundabout conversation Bob remarked: + +"By the way, a friend of mine has a little money he wants to lend to +cotton growers at 10 per cent. Do you suppose you would be able to use +a couple of hundreds of it?" + +"Ahem!" The ex-professor ran a bony hand over a lean chin. "It is +extremely probable, young man, extremely probable. I am very much +inclined to think that I can--that is, provided he would esteem my +personal signature to a promissory note sufficient guarantee for the +payment of the indebtedness." + +"That will be entirely sufficient." Bob smiled reassuringly, and +pretended to write out--it was already prepared--a note. Chandler +signed, and Bob gave him two hundred dollars in currency. + +The next evening when Bob returned from the field he found a sealed +envelope on the little board table in his shack. It contained $100 in +currency and a note which read: + + +You can't afford this loan; but we need the money so darned bad I'm +going to split it with you. I like the fiddle better than any musical +instrument that is made. + +I. C. + + +Toward the last of June old cotton growers told Bob that his field was +sure to go a bale and a quarter an acre, and Chandler's was about as +good. + +On the twenty-sixth of June a Mexican officer came to the ranch and +arrested Rogeen's Chinese cook and one of his field hands. Bob offered +bail, but it was refused. The day following the remaining Chinaman was +arrested. + +Bob got other hands, but on July first all three of these were arrested. + +"I see," Bob said to himself, thinking it over that evening, "this is +the first of Jenkins' schemes. They are going to make Chinamen afraid +to work for me. Well, Noah and I can manage until I can hire some +Americans." + +At nine o'clock it was yet too hot to sleep, and Bob too restless to +sit still. He got up and started out to walk. Without any definite +intention he turned down the road south. He had gone about half a mile +and thought of turning back when he saw something in the road +ahead--something white. It was a woman, and she was running toward him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +Bob hastened to meet the figure in the road. He knew it was Imogene +Chandler, and that her haste meant she was either desperately +frightened or in great trouble. + +"Is that you, Mr. Rogeen?" She checked up and called to him fifty +yards away. + +"Yes. What is the matter?" + +"I've been frightened three times in the last week." She caught her +breath. "A man hid in the weeds near the house, and his movements gave +me a scare; but I didn't think so much about it until Saturday night, +when I went out after dark to gather sticks for the breakfast cooking, +a man slipped from the shadow of the trees and spoke to me and I ran +and he followed me nearly to the house. I got my gun and shot at him. + +"But to-night," she gasped for breath again, "just as I was going from +papa's tent to my own, a man jumped out and grabbed me. I screamed and +he ran away." + +Bob put his hand on her arm. He felt it still quivering under his +fingers. + +"I'll walk back with you," he said in a quiet, reassuring tone. + +"Can you lend me a blanket?" he asked when they reached the Chandler +ranch. "And let me have your gun, I'll sleep out here to one side of +your tent." + +She protested, but without avail. + +Next morning when Bob returned to his own ranch he spoke to Noah +Ezekiel Foster. + +"Noah, this afternoon move your tent down to the Chandler ranch. Put +it up on the north side of Miss Chandler's so she will be between yours +and her father's. I'm going to town and I'll bring out a +double-barrelled riot shotgun that won't miss even in the dark. You +and that gun are going to sleep side by side." + +Noah Ezekiel grinned. + +Bob went to the shack, put his own pistol in his pocket, and rode off +to Calexico. + +Reedy Jenkins sat at his desk in shirt sleeves, his pink face a trifle +pasty as he sweated over a column of figures. He looked up annoyedly +as someone entered through the open door; and the annoyance changed to +surprise when he saw that it was Bob Rogeen. + +"I merely came in to tell you a story," said Bob as he dropped into a +chair and took a paper from the pocket of his shirt and held it in his +left hand. + +"This," Bob flecked the paper and spoke reminiscently, "is quite a +curiosity. I got it up near Blindon, Colorado. A bunch of rascals +jumped me one night when my back was turned. + +"Next day my friends hired an undertaker to take charge of my remains, +and made up money to pay him. This paper is the undertaker's receipt +for my funeral. + +"The rascals did not get either me or the cash they were after; but +they taught me a valuable lesson: never to have my back turned again." + +He stopped. + +"You see," went on Bob in a tone that did not suggest argument, "there +is a ranch over my way you happen to want--two of them, in fact. The +last week the lessees have both been much annoyed; the one on the south +one especially. + +"Now, of course, we can kill Madrigal and any other Mexican that keeps +up that annoyance. But instead, I suggest that you call them off. For +the Chandlers have fully made up their minds not to sell, and so have +I." + +Bob rose. "If anything further happens down there, I'm afraid there'll +be an accident on this side of the line. It was merely that you might +be prepared in advance that I dropped in this morning to make you a +present of this." He tossed the paper on Jenkins' desk and went out. + +Reedy picked up the receipt. The undertaker, after Rogeen's recovery, +had facetiously written on the back: + + +This receipt is still good for one first-class funeral--and it is +negotiable. + + +Reedy felt all the sneer go out of his lips and a sort of coldness +steal along his sweaty skin. Underneath this writing was another line: + + +Transferred for value received to Reedy Jenkins. + BOB ROGEEN. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +It was five minutes after Bob Rogeen had gone out of the door before +Reedy Jenkins stirred in his chair. Then he gave his head a vicious +jerk and swiped the angling wisp of hair back from his forehead. + +"Oh, hell! He can't bluff me." + +He sat gritting his teeth, remembering the insulting retorts he might +have made, slapped his thigh a whack with his open hand in vexation +that he had not made them; got up and walked the floor. + +No, he was not afraid of Rogeen, not by a damned sight. Afraid of a +twenty-dollar hardware clerk? _Not much!_ He would show him he had +struck the wrong town and the wrong man for his cheap bluffs. And yet +Reedy kept remembering a certain expression in Rogeen's eye, a certain +taut look in his muscles. Of course a man of Reedy's reputation did +not want to be mixed up in any brawls. Whatever was done, should be +done smoothly--and safely. + +He telephoned for Madrigal, the Mexican Jew. Madrigal could manage it. + +While waiting for his agent, Reedy lighted a cigar, but became so +busily engaged with his thoughts that he forgot to puff until it went +out. Jenkins was taking stock of the situation. He had boasted of his +influence with the Mexican authorities; but like most boasters he was +talking about the influence he was going to have rather than what he +had. Just now he was not sure he had any pull across the line at all. +Of course as a great ranch owner and a very rich man--as he was going +to be inside of three years--he could have great influence. And yet he +remembered that the present Mexican Governor of Baja California was an +exceedingly competent man. He was shrewd and efficient, and deeply +interested in the development of his province. Moreover, he was +friendly to Americans, and seemed to have more than an ordinary sense +of justice toward them. + +Reedy shook his head. He did not believe he could have much chance +with the Governor--not at present, anyway. But perhaps some minor +official might help put over his schemes. Anyway, Madrigal would know. + +The Mexican Jew came directly, dressed in light flannels, a flower in +his buttonhole. Debonairly he lifted his panama and bowed with +exaggerated politeness to Jenkins. + +"What great good has Senor Reedy clabbering in his coco now?" He +grinned impudently. + +Jenkins frowned. His dignity was not to be so trifled with. + +"Sit down," he ordered. + +Reedy relighted his cigar, put his thumbs in his vest holes, and began +slowly puffing smoke toward the ceiling. He liked to keep his +subordinates waiting. + +"Madrigal," he said, directly, "I want those two ranches--Chandler's +and Rogeen's." + +"_Si, si._" The Mexican nodded shrewdly. "And Senor Jenkins shall +have them." + +"We've got to get rid of Rogeen first. Then the other will be easy." + +"Et es so, senor," Madrigal said, warmly. He abated Rogeen on his own +account, for Senor Madrigal had formed a violent attachment for the +Senorita Chandler. And the damned Americano with his fiddle was in the +way. + +"If," suggested Reedy, smoking slowly, "Rogeen should be induced to +leave the country within three weeks--or in case he happened to some +accident so he could not leave at all--we'd make four thousand out of +his ranch. Half of that would be two thousand." + +Madrigal's black eyes narrowed wickedly, and his thick lips rolled up +under his long nose. + +"Mexico, senor, is the land of accidents." + +"All right, Madrigal," Reedy waved dismissal and turned to his desk and +began to figure--or pretend to figure. + +The Mexican turned in the door, looked back on the bulky form of +Jenkins, started to speak, grinned wickedly, and went down the outside +stairway. + + +On the evening of the third of August Bob came in from the fields and +prepared his own supper. Since the arrest of his Chinamen a few weeks +before Rogeen had not employed any other help. The cotton cultivation +was over, and he and Noah could manage the irrigation. The hill billy +had gone to town early in the afternoon, and would return directly to +the Chandler ranch where he was still on guard at nights. Bob believed +his warning to Jenkins had stopped all further molestation, but he was +not willing to take any chances--at least not with Imogene Chandler. + +Bob had been irrigating all day and was dead tired. After supper he +sat in front of his shack as usual to cool a little before turning in. +The day had been the hottest of the summer, and now at eight o'clock it +was still much over a hundred. + +In that heat there is little life astir even in the most luxuriant +fields. It was still to-night--scarcely the croak of a frog or the +note of a bird. There was no moon, but in the deep, vast, clear spaces +of the sky the stars burned like torches held down from the heavens. A +wind blew lightly, but hot off the fields. The weeds beside the +ditches shook slitheringly, and the dry grass roof of the shack rustled. + +To be the centre of stillness, to be alone in a vast space, either +crushes one with loneliness or gives him an unbounded exhilaration. +To-night Bob felt the latter sensation. It seemed instead of being a +small, lost atom in a swirling world, he was a part of all this lambent +starlight; this whispering air of the desert. + +He breathed slowly and deeply of the dry, clean wind, rose, and +stretched his tired muscles, and turned in. So accustomed had he +become to the heat that scarcely had he stretched out on the cot before +he was asleep. And Bob was a sound sleeper. The sides of the shack +were open above a three-foot siding of boards, open save for a mosquito +netting. An old screen door was set up at the front, but Bob had not +even latched that. If one was in danger out here, he was simply in +danger, that was all, for there was no way to hide from it. + +A little after midnight two Mexicans crept along on all-fours between +the cotton rows at the edge of Bob's field. At the end of the rows, +fifty yards from the shack, they crouched on their haunches and +listened. The wind shook the tall rank cotton and rustled the weeds +along the ditches. But no other sound. Nothing was stirring anywhere. + +Bending low and walking swiftly they slipped toward the back of the +shack. Their eyes peered ahead and they slipped with their hearts in +their throats, trusting the Americano was asleep. + +He was. As they crouched low behind the shelter of the three-foot wall +of boards they could hear his breathing. He was sound asleep. + +Slowly, on hands and knees, they crawled around the west side toward +the entrance. In the right hand of the one in front was the dull glint +of a knife. The other held a revolver. + +Cautiously the one ahead tried the screen door--pushing it open an inch +or two. It was unlatched. Motioning for the other to stand by the +door, he arose, pushed the door back with his left hand very slowly so +as not to make a squeak. In the right he held the knife. + +Bob stirred in his sleep and turned on the cot. The Mexican stood +motionless, ready to spring either way if he awoke. But the steady +breathing of a sound sleeper began again. + +The Mexican let the door to softly and took one quick step toward the +bed. + +Then with a wild, blood-curdling yell he fell on the floor. Something +from above had leaped on him, something that enveloped him, that +grappled with him. He went down screaming and stabbing like a madman. +His companion at the door fired one shot in the air, dropped his gun, +and ran as if all the devils in hell were after him. + +The commotion awoke Bob. Instantly he sat up in bed, and as he rose he +reached for a gun with one hand and a flashlight with the other. In an +instant the light was in the Mexican's face--and the gun also. + +"Hold up your hands, Madrigal." Bob's tone brought swift obedience. +Around the Mexican and on him were the ripped and torn fragments of a +dummy man--made of a sack of oats, with flapping arms and a tangle of +ropes. Bob had not felt sure but some attempt might be made on his +life, and half in jest and half as a precaution, he and Noah had put +this dummy overhead with a trip rope just inside the door. They knew +the fright of something unexpected falling on an intruder would be more +effective than a machine gun. + +"Get up," Bob ordered, and the shaken Madrigal staggered to his feet, +with his hands held stiffly straight up. "March out." Rogeen's +decision had come quickly. He followed with the gun in close proximity +to the Mexican's back. + +Madrigal was ordered to pick up a hoe and a shovel, and then was +marched along the water ditch toward the back of the field. + +"Here." Bob ordered a stop. They were half a mile from the road, at +the edge of the desert. The Mexican had recovered enough from his +first fright to feel the cold clutch of another, surer danger. "Dig," +ordered Bob. And the Mexican obeyed. "About two feet that way." Bob +sat down on the bank of the water ditch and kept the digger covered. +"Make it seven feet long," he ordered, coldly. + +Slowly Madrigal dug and shovelled, and slowly but surely as the thing +took shape, he saw what it was--a grave. His grave! + +He glared wildly about as he paused for a breath. + +"Hurry," came the insistent command. + +Another shovelful, and he glanced up at the light. But the muzzle of +the gun was level with the light! A wrong move and he knew the thing +would be over even before the grave was done. + +For an hour he worked. Off there at the edge of the desert, this grave +levelled as a part of the cotton field--and no one would ever find it. +His very bones seemed to sweat with horror. Was the American going to +bury him alive? Or would he shoot him first? + +All the stealth and cruelty he had ever felt toward others now turned +in on himself, and a horror that filled him with blind, wild terror of +that hollow grave shook him until he could no longer dig. He stood +there in front of the flashlight blanched and shaking. + +"That will do," said Rogeen. "Madrigal," he put into that word all the +still terror of a cool courage, "that is your grave." + +For a full moment he paused. "You will stay out of it just as long as +you stay off my land--out of reach of my gun. Don't ever even pass the +road by my place. + +"Your boss has had his warning. This is yours. That grave will stay +open, day and night, waiting for you. + +"Good-night, Senor Madrigal. Go fast and don't look back." + +The last injunction was entirely superfluous. + +After the night had swallowed up the fleeing figure Bob rolled on the +bank and laughed until his ribs ached. + +"No more oat sacks for Senor Madrigal! I wonder who the other one +was--and what became of him?" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +It was October. The bolls had opened beautifully. The cotton was +ready to pick. As Bob and Noah walked down the rows the stalks came up +to their shoulders. It was the finest crop of cotton either of them +had ever seen. + +"As dad used to say," remarked Noah Ezekiel, "the fields are white for +the harvest, but where are the reapers?" There was no one in the +fields at work. + +Bob shook his head gloomily. "I have no money for the pickers. I owe +you, Noah, for the last two months." + +"Yes, I remember it," said the hill billy, plucking an extra large boll +of lint. "I've tried to forget it, but somehow those things sort of +stick in a fellow's mind." + +In August the great war had broke in Europe. + +Ships were rushing with war supplies, blockades declared, factories +shut down. The American stock exchanges had closed to save a panic. +Buying and selling almost ceased. Money scuttled to the cover of +safety vaults, and the price of cotton had dropped and dropped until +finally it ceased to sell at all. + +"It is going to bankrupt almost every grower in the valley," remarked +Bob. "I'm certainly sorry for the Chandlers. They're up against it +hard." + +"As the poet says," Noah Ezekiel drew down the corners of his mouth, +pulling a long face, "ain't life real?" + +Bob laughed in spite of troubles. "Noah, I believe you'd joke at your +own funeral." + +"Why shouldn't I?" said Noah. "You joked with your undertaker's +receipt." He grinned at the recollection of that event. "You sure +broke that yellow dog Jenkins from suckin' eggs--temporarily." + +"But ain't he stuck with his leases though. If I had as much money as +he owes, I could fix these gamblers at the Red Owl so they wouldn't +have to work any for the rest of their natural lives." + +"Noah," Bob turned to his faithful foreman, "I want you to stick until +we put this thing through. I'll see you don't lose a dollar." + +"Don't you worry about me sticking," said Noah Ezekiel. "I never quit +a man as long as he owes me anything." + +The loyalty of the hill billy touched Rogeen, but as is the way of men, +he covered it up with a brusque tone. + +"You get the sacks ready. I'm going in to town and raise the money +somehow to pick this cotton. I'll pick it if I never get a dollar out +of it--can't bear to see a crop like that go to waste." + +The cotton-gin people were in a desperate panic, but Bob went after +them hard: + +"Now see here, that war in Europe is not going to end the world; and as +long as the world stands there will be a demand for cotton. This +flurry will pass, and there's sure to be a big jump in the market for +cotton seed. The war will increase the demand for oils of all kinds. + +"That cotton has got to be picked, and you'll have to furnish the +money. When it is ginned you can certainly borrow five cents a pound +on it. That will pay for the water and the lease, the picking and the +ginning--and the duty, too. + +"Now you get the money for me to pick my field and Chandler's field. +They owe only $600 on the crop; so you'll be even safer there than with +me. We'll leave the cotton with you as security. And then after you +have borrowed all you can on it, I'll give you my personal note for all +the balance I owe, and see you get every dollar of it, if I have to +work it out during the next three years at twenty dollars a week." + +It was that promise that turned the scales. No man of discernment +could look at Rogeen and doubt either his pluck or his honesty. + +Two days later forty Chinamen, more eager for jobs now than ever, were +picking cotton at the Chandler and Rogeen ranches--twenty at each place. + + +Tom Barton went up the outside stairway thumping each iron step +viciously. Six months of gloomy forebodings had terminated even more +disastrously than he had feared. He found Reedy Jenkins rumpled and +unshaven, laboriously figuring at his desk. + +Reedy looked up with a sly-dog sort of smile. There were little rims +of red round his eyes, but it was plain he had something new to spring +on his creditor. + +"I'm not figuring debts"--Jenkins reached in the drawer and got out a +cigar and lighted it--"but profits." + +"Yes," said Barton, murderously, "that is what you are always figuring +on. Debts don't mean anything to you, because you aren't worth a damn. +But debts count with me. You owe me $40,000 on this bright idea of +yours, and your leases aren't worth a tadpole in Tahoe." + +"Easy, easy!" Reedy waved his hand as though getting ready to make a +speech. "Perhaps I have temporarily lost my credit; but with a +requisite amount of cash, a man can always get it back--or do without +it. + +"I admit this damn war has swamped me. I admit on the face of the +returns I am snowed under--bankrupt to the tune of over $200,000. But +nevertheless and notwithstanding I am going to get away with some coin." + +"Well, I hope you don't get away with mine," growled Barton. + +A laundry driver entered the door with a bill in his hand. Reedy grew +a little redder and waved at the man angrily. + +"Don't bother me with that now; don't you see I'm busy?" + +"So am I," said the driver, aggressively, "and this is the third call." + +"Leave it," said Jenkins, angrily, "and I'll have my secretary send you +a check for it." + +The driver threw it on Reedy's desk and left sullenly. Barton caught +the figures on the unpaid bill--seventy-eight cents. + +"I admit," Barton spoke sarcastically as he started for the door, "that +your credit is gone. But if you don't dig up that forty thousand, +you'll be as sorry you ever borrowed it as I am that I lent it." + + +The last of November Bob went down to the Chandler ranch to give an +account of the cotton picking. + +"You have 150 bales at the compress. I put up the compress receipts +for the debts," said Bob to Imogene. "There is $3,123 against your +cotton. I could not borrow another dollar on it." + +"You have done so much for us already," the girl said, feelingly. "And +we'll get along some way. If cotton would only begin to sell, we would +have a little fortune." + +"I have 180 bales," said Bob, "but I owe something over $4,000 on it. +I am going up to Calexico and get a job until spring." He hesitated a +moment, looking at the girl thoughtfully. The summer and hard work and +constant worry had left her thin and with a look of anxiety in her eyes. + +"Hadn't you also better move to town?" + +She laughed at that. "Why, dear sir, what do you suppose we should +live on in town? Out here we have no rent and can at least raise some +vegetables. No, we'll stick it out until we see whether this war is +merely a flurry or a deluge." + +For a week Bob hunted a job in Calexico. His need for funds was acute. +He had managed to get enough on his cotton to pay all his labour bills +but had not kept a dollar for himself. + +Tuesday evening he had gone up to his room at the hotel, a court room +with one window and broken plaster and a chipped water pitcher. There +was no job in sight. Everything was at a standstill, and the cotton +market looked absolutely hopeless. His note for the $4,000 fell due +January first. If he could not sell the cotton by that time, his +creditors would take it over; and besides, he was held for any amount +of the debt above what the cotton would bring at a forced sale. + +He was bluer than he had been since he lost that first good job nine +years ago. He went to the battered old trunk, opened the lid, and +lifted the fiddle; stood with it in his hands a moment, put it against +his shoulder and raised the bow. He was thinking of her, the girl left +alone down there on the ranch--still fighting it out with the desert, +the Mexicans, and the trailing calamities of this World War. He +dropped the bow, he could not play. And just as he was returning the +fiddle to his trunk there was a knock followed by the opening of the +door. A chambermaid's head pushed in. + +"There's a man down in the office wants to see you," announced the girl. + +"Who is it?" asked Bob. + +"Dunno--old fellow with eyebrows like a hair brush--and a long linen +duster." + +"I'll be right down," said Bob. + + +Jim Crill was sitting in a corner of the hotel office when Rogeen came +down; and he motioned to Bob to take the chair beside him. + +"Notice a cotton gin being built across the line?" the old gentleman +asked, crossing his legs and thrusting his hands into his trousers +pockets. + +"Yes," Bob nodded. "I wondered if you had." + +"Reckon I have," remarked Crill, dryly. "I'm puttin' up the money for +it." + +"You are?" Bob was surprised. This upset his suspicions in regard to +that gin. + +"Yes; don't you think it's a good investment?" The old gentleman's +keen blue eyes looked searchingly from under the shaggy brows at Rogeen. + +"Lots of cotton raised over there," Bob answered, noncommittally. "And +the Mexicans really ought to have a gin on their side of the line." + +The old gentleman cleared his throat as though about to say something +else; and then changed his mind and sat frowning in silence so long Bob +wondered why he had sent for him. + +"Lots of cotton raisers 'll go broke this fall." Crill broke the +silence abruptly. + +"Already are," replied Bob. + +"Know what it means." The old gentleman jerked his head up and down. +"Hauled my last bale of five-cent cotton to the store many a time, and +begged 'em to let the rest of my bill run another year. That was +before I ran the store myself; and then struck oil on a patch of Texas +land. Haven't got as much money as folks think but too much to let lie +around idle. Think this valley is a good place to invest, don't you?" +Again the searching blue eyes peered at the young man. + +"I certainly do," answered Bob with conviction. "The soil is +bottomless; it will grow anything and grow it all the year." + +"If it gets water," added the old gentleman. + +"Of course--but we had plenty of water this year. And," went on Bob, +"this war is not going to smash the cotton market forever. It's going +to smash most of us who have no money to hold on with. But next spring +or next summer or a year after, sooner or later, prices will begin to +climb. The war will decrease production more than it will consumption. +The war demands will send the price of wool up, and when wool goes up +it pulls cotton along with it. Cotton will go to twenty cents, maybe +more." + +"That sounds like sense." The old gentleman nodded slowly. "And it is +the fellow that is a year ahead that gets rich on the rise; and the +fellow a year behind that gets busted on the drop in prices." + +"There are going to be some fortunes made in raising cotton over +there," Bob nodded toward the Mexican line, "in the next four years +that will sound like an Arabian Nights' tale of farming. + +"I figured it out this summer. That land is all for lease; it is +level, it is rich. They get water cheaper than we do on this side; and +I can get Chinese help, which is the best field labour in the world, +for sixty-five cents to a dollar a day. I was planning before this +smash came to plant six hundred acres of cotton next year." + +"That's what I wanted to see you about," said Crill. "Want to lend +some money over there, and you are the fellow to do it. Want to lend +it to fellows you can trust on their honour without any mortgages. +Guess mortgages over there aren't much account anyway. + +"Want to keep the cotton industry up here in the valley. May want to +start a cotton mill myself. Anyway," he added, belligerently, "a lot +of 'em are about to lose their cotton crops; and this is a good time to +stick 'em for a stiff rate of interest. Charge 'em 10 per cent--and +half the cotton seed. I'm no philanthropist." + +Bob smiled discreetly at the fierceness. That was the usual rate for +loans on the Mexican side. And it was very reasonable considering the +risk. + +"Want to hire you," said the old man, "to lend money on cotton--and +collect it. What you want a month?" + +"I'll do it for $150 a month," answered Bob, "if it does not interfere +with my own cotton growing next spring." + +"We can fix that," agreed the old man. + +"I think," replied Bob, "the best loans and the greatest help would be +just now on the cotton already baled and at the compress. Most of the +growers have debts for leases and water and supplies and borrowed money +against their cotton, and cannot sell it at any price. Unless they do +sell or can borrow on it by January first, these debts will take the +cotton. If you would lend them six cents a pound on their compress +receipts that would put most of them in the clear, and enable them to +hold on a few months for a possible rise in price." + +"That's your business." The old gentleman got up briskly. "I'll put +$25,000 to your credit in the morning at the International Bank. It's +your job to lend it. When it's gone, let me know." + +"Oh, by the way," Bob's heart had been beating excitedly through all +this arrangement, but he had hesitated to ask what was on his mind. +"Do you mind if--if I lend myself five cents a pound on 180 bales?" + +The old man turned and glared at him fiercely. + +"Do you reckon I'd trust you to lend to others if I didn't trust you +myself? Make the loans, then explain the paper afterward." + +Next morning Bob bought a second-hand automobile for two hundred and +fifty dollars and gave his note for it. It was not much of an +automobile, but it was of the sort that always comes home. + +Rogeen headed straight south, and in less than an hour stopped at the +Chandler ranch. + +Imogene was under the shade of the arrow-weed roof, reading a magazine. +Rogeen felt a quick thrill as he saw her flush slightly as she came out +to meet him. + +"What means the gasolene chariot?" she asked. "Prosperity or mere +recklessness?" + +"Merely hopefulness," he answered. "I brought a paper for you. Sign +on the dotted line." He handed her a promissory note, due in six +months, for $4,500. + +"What is this?" She had been living so long on a few dollars at a time +that the figures sounded startling. + +"I've got a loan on your cotton," replied Bob with huge satisfaction. +"And you can have it as soon as you and your father have signed the +note." + +"Good heavens!" The blood had left her face. "You are not joking, are +you? Why, man alive, that means that we live! It will give us $1,400 +above the debts." + +Bob felt a choking in his throat. The pluckiness of the girl! And +that he could bring her relief! "Yes, and I'm going to take you back +to town, where you can pay off the debts and get your money." + +The exuberant gayety that broke over the girl's spirits as they +returned to town moved Bob deeply. What a long, hard pull she and her +father had had; no wonder the unexpected relief sent her spirits on the +rebound. + +"Thank the Lord," he said, fervently, to himself, "for that sharp old +man with bushy eyebrows!" + +As they drove up to the International Bank where Bob had asked the +compress company to send all the bills against the Chandler cotton, +another machine was just driving away and a woman was entering the bank. + +"By the great horn spoon," Bob exclaimed aloud, "that is Mrs. Barnett." + +"Who is Mrs. Barnett?" Imogene Chandler asked archly. "Some special +friend of yours?" + +"Hardly," Bob replied, remembering that Miss Chandler knew neither Jim +Crill nor his niece. + +"And the man who was driving away," said Imogene, "was Reedy Jenkins." + +"It was?" Bob turned quickly. "Are you sure? I was watching the woman +and did not notice the machine." + +[Illustration: A mutual discovery--they both cared.] + +As they entered the bank Mrs. Barnett, dressed in a very girlish +travelling suit, was standing by the check counter as though waiting. +At sight of Bob she nodded and smiled reservedly. + +"Oh, Mr. Rogeen," she arched her brows and called to him as he started +to the cashier's window with Imogene Chandler. + +Bob excused himself and approached her, a little uneasy and decidedly +annoyed. Her mouth was simpering, but her eyes had that sharp, +predatory look he had seen before. + +"Mr. Rogeen," she began in a cool, ladylike voice, "my uncle told me of +the arrangement he had made with you and asked me to O. K. all the +loans before you make them." + +"Is that so?" Bob felt a mingling of wrath and despair. "He did not +say anything to me about it." + +"N-o?"--questioningly--"we talked it over last night, and he felt sure +this would be the better plan." + +Bob hesitated for a moment. Imogene had gone to the other note +counter, and was trying idly not to be aware of the conversation. It +would be utterly too cruel to disappoint her now. It went against the +grain, but Rogeen swallowed his resentment and distaste. + +"All right," he nodded brightly. "I've got one loan already for you." +He drew the papers from his pocket. "It is six cents on 150 bales of +cotton now in the yards. Here are the compress receipts." + +"Whom is this for?" Her eyes looked at him challengingly; her lips +shaped the words accusingly. + +"To Miss Chandler and her father." Bob felt himself idiotically +blushing. + +Mrs. Barnett's face took on the frozen look of a thousand generations +of damning disapprobation. + +"No! Not one cent to that woman. Uncle and I don't care to encourage +that sort." + +For a moment Bob stood looking straight into the frigid face of Mrs. +Barnett. It was the first time in his life he would have willingly +sacrificed his personal pride for money. He would have done almost +anything to get that money for Imogene Chandler. But it was useless to +try to persuade the widow that she was wrong. Back of her own +narrowness was Reedy Jenkins. This was Reedy's move; he was using the +widow's vanity and personal greed for his own ends; and his ends were +the destruction of Rogeen and the capitulation of Miss Chandler. + +Mrs. Barnett's eyes met his defiantly, but her mouth quivered a little +nervously. A doubt flashed through his mind. Was she authorized to do +this? Surely she would not dare take such authority without her +uncle's consent. He might telephone, anyway, then a more direct +resolution followed swiftly. He turned away from Mrs. Barnett and went +to the cashier's window. + +"Did Jim Crill deposit $25,000 here subject to my check?" he asked. + +"He did," replied the cashier. + +"Are there any strings to it?" + +"None," responded the cashier promptly. + +Without so much as glancing toward the widow, who had watched this move +with a venomous suspicion, Bob went to Miss Chandler by the desk and +took the papers from his pocket, and laid them before her. + +"Indorse the compress receipts over to Mr. Crill." + +Then he wrote two checks--one to the bank for $3,123 to pay off all the +claims against the Chandler cotton and one to Imogene for $1,377. + +"You don't know, Mr. Rogeen," she started to say in a low, tense voice +as she took the check, "how much----" + +"I don't need to," he smilingly interrupted her gratitude, "for it +isn't my money. I'll see you at lunch; and then take you back home in +my car." He lifted his hat and turned back to the counter where Mrs. +Barnett stood loftily, disdainfully, yet furiously angry. + +"Well," said Bob, casually, "I've made one loan, anyway." + +"It will be your last." Mrs. Barnett clutched her hands vindictively. +"You'll be discharged as quick as I get to Uncle Jim." + +Bob really expected he would, but not for three jobs would he have +recalled that loan and the light of relief in Imogene Chandler's eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +Mrs. Barnett went direct from the bank to Reedy Jenkins' office. As +she climbed the outside stairway she was so angry she forgot to watch +to see that her skirts did not lift above her shoe tops. As she +entered the door her head was held as high and stiff as though she had +been insulted by a disobedient cook. White showed around her mouth and +the base of her nose, and her nostrils were dilated. + +"Why, Mrs. Barnett!" Reedy arose with an oratorical gesture. "What a +pleasant surprise. Have a chair." + +She took the chair he placed for her without a word and her right hand +clutched the wrist of the left. She was breathing audibly. + +"Did you see Rogeen?" Jenkins suggested suavely. + +"Yes." The tone indicated that total annihilation should be the end of +that unworthy creature. But her revenge, like Reedy's expectations, +was in the future. She hated to confess this. She breathed hard +twice. "And I'll show him whose word counts." + +"You don't mean," Reedy swiped his left hand roughly at the wisp of +hair on his forehead, "that he disregarded your wishes?" + +"He certainly did." Indignation was getting the better of her voice. +"The low-lived--the contemptible--common person. And he insulted me +with that--that creature." + +"Well, of all the gall!" Reedy was quite as indignant as Mrs. Barnett, +for very different if more substantial reasons. He had seen more and +more that a fight with Rogeen was ahead, a fight to the finish; and the +further he went the larger that fight looked. The easiest way to smash +a man, Reedy had found, was to deprive him of money. A man can't carry +out many schemes unless he can get hold of money. Jenkins had kept a +close eye on Jim Crill, and had grown continually more uneasy lest the +old chap become too favourably impressed with Rogeen. He had early +sensed the old man's weak spot--one of them--Crill hated to be +pestered. That was the vulnerable side at which Evelyn Barnett, the +niece, could jab. And Reedy had planned all her attacks. This last +move of Crill's--hiring Rogeen to lend money for him, had alarmed Reedy +more than anything that had happened. For it would give Rogeen a big +influence on the Mexican side. Most of the ranchers needed to borrow +money, and it would put the man on whose word the loans would be made +in mighty high favour. To offset this, Reedy had engineered an attack +by Mrs. Barnett on the old gentleman's leisure. She had worried him +and nagged him with the argument that he ought not to bother with a lot +of business details, but should turn them over to her. She would see +to the little things for him. He had reluctantly granted some sort of +consent to this, a consent which Evelyn had construed meant blanket +authority. + +"He flatly refused," Mrs. Barnett was still thinking blisteringly of +Bob Rogeen, "to obey my wishes in the matter. I told him plainly," she +bit her lips again, "that neither Uncle nor I would consent to money +being furnished women like that." + +"I should say not." Reedy agreed with unctuous righteousness in his +plump face. "And to think of that scalawag, making a loan right in +your face, after you had vetoed it." + +"He'll never make another." Mrs. Barnett's lips would have almost bit +a thread in two. "Just wait until I get to Uncle Jim!" + +"I'll drive you up," said Reedy. He reached to the top of the desk for +his hat. + +"Of course," remarked Reedy on the way, "your uncle is very generous to +want to help these fellows across the line that are broke. But they +are riff-raff. He will lose every dollar of it. I know them. Good +Lord! haven't I befriended them, and helped them fifty ways? And do +they appreciate it? Well, I should say not!" + +"The more you do for people the less they appreciate it," said Mrs. +Barnett still in a bitter mood. + +"Some people," corrected Reedy. "There are a few, a very few, who +never forget a favour." + +"Yes, that is true," assented the widow, and began to relent in her +mind, seeing how kind was Mr. Jenkins. + +"I'm very sorry," continued Reedy, frowning, "that your uncle has taken +up this fellow. I've been looking up Rogeen's past--and he is no good, +absolutely no good. Been a drifter all his life. Never had a hundred +dollars of his own. + +"By the way," Reedy suddenly remembered a coincidence in regard to that +undertaker's receipt, "where was it your husband lost the sale of that +mine?" + +"At Blindon, Colorado." + +"By George!" Reedy released the wheel with the right hand and slapped +his leg. "I thought so. Do you know who that young man with the +fiddle was who ruined your fortune?" + +"No." Evelyn Barnett came around sharply. + +"Bob Rogeen--that fellow who insulted you this morning." + +"No? Not really?" Angry incredulity. + +Reedy nodded. "As I told you, I've been looking up his past. And I +got the story straight." + +"The vile scoundrel!" Mrs. Barnett said, bitterly. "And to think Uncle +would trust him with his money." + +"We must stop it," said Reedy. "It isn't right that your uncle should +be fleeced by this rascal." + +"He shan't be!" declared Mrs. Barnett, gritting her teeth. + +"There are too many really worthy investments," added Reedy. + +"I'll see that this is the last money that man gets," Mrs. Barnett +asseverated. + +"Your uncle is a little bull headed, isn't he?" suggested Reedy, +cautiously. "Better be careful how you approach him." + +"Oh, I'll manage him, never fear," she said positively. + +Jenkins set Mrs. Barnett down at the entrance to the bungalow court. +He preferred that Jim Crill should not see him with her. It might lead +him to think Reedy was trying to influence her. + +As Mrs. Barnett stalked up the steps, Jim Crill was sitting on the +porch in his shirt sleeves, smoking. + +"How are you feeling, dear?" she asked, solicitously. + +"Ain't feelin'," Crill grunted--"I'm comfortable." + +Evelyn sank into a chair, held her hands, and sighed. + +"Oh, dear, it is so lonely since poor Tom Barnett died." + +Uncle Jim puffed on--he had some faint knowledge of the poor deceased +Tom. + +"Do you know, Uncle Jim, I made a discovery to-day. The man who kept +my poor husband from making a fortune was that person." + +"What person?" growled the old chap looking straight ahead. + +"That Rogeen person you are trusting your money to." + +Jim Crill bit his pipe stem to hide a dry grin. He had often heard the +story of the bursted mine sale. He had some suspicions, knowing +Barnett, of what the mine really was. + +"And, Uncle Jim, of course you won't keep him. Besides, he insulted me +this morning." + +"How?" It was another grunt. + +Evelyn went into the painful details of her humiliation at the bank. +"When she got through Uncle Jim turned sharply in his chair. + +"Did you do that?" + +"Do what?" gasped Evelyn. + +"Try to interfere with his loans?" + +"Why, why, yes." She was aghast at the tone, ready to shed protective +tears. "Didn't you tell me--wasn't I to have charge of the little +things?" + +"Oh, hell!" Uncle Jim burst out. "Little things, yes--about the house +I meant. Not my business. Dry up that sobbing now--and don't monkey +any more with my business." + +Uncle Jim got up and stalked off downtown. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +Early one morning in March Bob picked Noah Ezekiel Foster up at a lunch +counter where the hill billy was just finishing his fourth waffle. + +"Want you to go out and look at two or three leases with me," said +Rogeen as they got into the small car. + +Bob had not lost his job with Crill over the Chandler loan. He was +still lending the old gentleman's money and doing it without Mrs. +Barnett's approval. But the widow had, he felt sure, done the moist, +self-sacrificing, nagging stunt so persistently that her uncle had +compromised by advancing much more money to Reedy Jenkins than safety +justified. Crill had never mentioned the matter, but Bob knew Jenkins +had got money from somewhere, and there certainly was no one else in +the valley that would have lent it to him. For Reedy had managed to +pick his cotton and gin it at the new gin on the Mexican side, where +the bales were still stacked in the yards. + +"Why do you suppose," asked Bob as they drove south past the Mexican +gin, "Jenkins has left his cotton over on this side all winter?" Bob +had formulated his own suspicions but wanted to learn what Noah Ezekiel +thought, for Noah picked up a lot of shrewd information. + +"Shucks," said Noah, "it's so plain that a way-farin' man though a +cotton grower can see. He's kept it over there because he owes about +three hundred thousand dollars on the American side, and as quick as he +takes it across the line there'll be about as many fellows pullin' at +every bale as there are ahold of them overall pants you see advertised." + +"But cotton is selling now; it was six cents yesterday," remarked Bob. +"At that he ought to have enough to pay his debts." + +Noah Ezekiel snorted: "Reedy isn't livin' to pay his debts. He ain't +hankerin' for receipts; what he wants is currency. His creditors on +the American side are layin' low, because they can't do anything else. +Reedy put one over on 'em when he built this gin. He can hold his +cotton over here for high prices, and let them that he owes on the +American side go somewhere and whistle in a rain barrel to keep from +gettin' dry. + +"As my dad used to say, 'The children of this world can give the +children of light four aces and still take the jack pot with a pair of +deuces.'" + +Bob knew Noah was right. He had watched Jenkins pretty closely all +winter. Reedy had endeavoured to convince all his creditors, and +succeeded in convincing some, that he had not brought the cotton across +the line because there was no market yet for it. "It is costing us +nothing to leave it over there, so why bring it across and have to pay +storage and also lose the interest on the $25,000 Mexican export duty +which we must pay when it is removed?" + +"Noah," remarked Bob, as the little car bumped across the bridge over +the irrigation ditch, "I'm taking you out to see a Chinaman's lease. +He has three hundred acres ready to plant and wants to borrow money to +raise the crop. If you like the field and I like the Chinaman, I'm +going to make the loan." + +"Accordin' to my observation," remarked Noah, "a heathen Chinese has +about all the virtues that a Christian ought to have, but ain't +regularly got. + +"The other mornin' after I'd been to the Red Owl the night before, I +felt like I needed a cup of coffee. I went round to a Chink that I'd +never met but two or three times, and says, 'John, I'm broke, will you +lend me a hundred dollars?' + +"That blasted Chink never batted an eye, never asked me if I owned any +personal property subject to mortgage, nor if I could get three good +men to go on my note. He just says, 'Surlee, Misty Foster,' and dived +down in a greasy old drawer and began to count out greenbacks. 'Here,' +I says, 'if you are that much of a Christian, I ain't an all-fired +heathen myself. Give me a dime and keep the change.'" + +Bob smiled appreciatively. "I've seen things like that happen more +than once. And it is not because they are simple and ignorant either." + +"You know," pursued Noah Ezekiel, "if I's Karniggy, I'd send a lot of +'em out as missionaries." + +They were at Ah Sing's ranch. The three-hundred-acre field was level +as a table, broken deep, thoroughly disked, and listed ready to water. +The Chinaman, without any money or the slightest assurance he could get +any for his planting, had worked all winter preparing the fields. + +Ah Sing stood in front of his weed-and-pole shack waiting with that +stoical anxiety which never betrays itself by hurry or nervousness. If +the man of money came and saw fit to lend, "vellee well--if not, doee +best I can." + +"You go out and take a look at the field," Bob directed Noah, "see if +there is any marsh grass or alfalfa roots, and look over his water +ditches while I talk to the Chinaman." + +"Good morning, Ah Sing," he said, extending his hand. + +"Good morning, Misty Rogee." The Chinaman smiled and gave the visitor +a friendly handshake. He was of medium height, had a well-shaped head +and dignified bearing, and eyes that met yours straight. He looked +about forty, but one never knows the age of a Chinaman. + +"Nice farm, Ah Sing," Bob nodded approvingly at the well-plowed fields. + +"He do vellee well." The Chinaman was pleased. + +"And you have no money to make a crop?" Bob asked. + +"No money," Ah Sing said, stoically. + +"I heard last fall you had made a good deal of money raising cotton +over here," suggested Bob. + +"Me make some," admitted Ah Sing. "Workee vellee hard many year--make +maybe eighteen--twentee thousan'." + +"What became of it, Ah Sing? Don't gamble, do you?" + +The Chinaman shook his head emphatically, "Me no gamble. +Gamble--nobody trust. Me pick cotton for Misty Jenkins." + +Bob was interested in that. He knew that after raising Jenkins' crop +Ah Sing had taken the contract to pick it. Bob had heard other things +but not from the Chinaman. "Didn't you make some money on that, too?" + +"No money." + +"Why not?" Bob spoke quickly. "Tell me about it, Ah Sing." + +The Chinaman sighed again and the long, long look came into his patient +oriental eyes. + +"Ah work in America ever since leetle boy--so high. After while I save +leetle money. Want go back China visit. I have cer-tificate. When I +come back, say it's no good. Put me in jail. Don't know why. Stay +long time. Send me back China. Then I come Mexico. Can't cross line; +say damn Mexican Chinaman. I raise cotton--I raise lettuce--make +leetle money. Maybee twent' thousan'. + +"Misty Jenkins say 'Ah Sing, want pick my cotton?' I say, 'Maybee.' +He say, 'Give you ten dollar bale. You do all work--feed Chinamen.' I +say, 'Vellee well.' Lots Chinaboys need work. I hire seven +hund'--eight hund'--maybee thousan.' I feed 'em. I pick cotton. Pick +eight thousan' bale. Take all my money feed 'em. I owe Chinaboys +fifty thousan' dollar. + +"No pay. No see Misty Jenkins. No cross line. Misty Jenkins pay +sometime maybee--maybee not." The old Chinaman shook his head +fatalistically. + +"And you spent all you had earned and saved in forty years, and then +went in debt fifty thousand to other Chinamen to pick that cotton, and +he hasn't paid you a dollar?" + +"No pay yet; maybee some time," he replied, stoically. + +"What a damn shame!" Bob seldom swore, but he felt justified for this +once. "Can't you collect it under the Mexican laws?" + +Ah Sing slowly, futilely, turned his hands palms outward. + +"Mexican say Misty Jenkins big man. Damn Chinaman no good no way." + +Noah Ezekiel came in from the field. + +"As my dad says," remarked the hill billy, "this Chink has held on to +the handle of the plow without ever looking back. The field is O. K." + +"How much will you need, Ah Sing?" Bob turned to the Chinaman. + +"Maybee get along with thousan' dollars--fifteen hund' maybee." + +"All right," said Bob, "I'm going to let you have it. You can get the +money three hundred at a time as you need it." + +Bob stood thinking for a moment. + +"Ah Sing," he said, decisively, "how would you like to have a partner? +Suppose I go in with you; furnish the money and look after the buying +and selling, tend to the business end; you raise the cotton. Me pay +all the expenses, including wages, for you; and then divide the +profits?" + +The Chinaman's face lost its stoic endurance and lighted with relief. + +"I likee him vellee much!" He put out his hand. "Me and you partners, +heh?" + +"Yes," Bob gripped the hand, "we are partners." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +Nothing Bob Rogeen had overheard about Reedy Jenkins and his schemes +had so intensified his anger as this treatment of the patient, +defenceless Ah Sing. + +"A Chinaman has the system," remarked Noah Ezekiel as they drove away. +"He'll lease a ranch, then take in half a dozen partners and put a +partner in charge of each section of the field. Raisin' cotton is +all-fired particular work, especially with borrowed water--there are as +many ways to ruin it as there are to spoil a pancake. And a partner +isn't so apt to go to sleep at the ditch." + +"That is why I went into partnership with Ah Sing," said Bob. "I have +never seen much money made in farming anywhere unless a man who had an +interest in the crop was on the job." + +"You bet you haven't," agreed Noah Ezekiel. "Absent treatment may +remove warts and bad dispositions, but it sure won't work on cockleburs +and Bermuda grass." + +For several miles Bob's mind was busy. + +"Noah," he asked, abruptly, "how would you like to go into partnership +with me and take over the management of that hundred and sixty acres we +cultivated last year?" + +"As my dad used to say," replied Noah Ezekiel, skeptically, "'Faith is +the substance of things hoped for'; and as I never hope for any +substance, I ain't got no faith--especially in profits. Whenever I +come round, profits hide out like a bunch of quails on a rainy day. I +prefer wages." + +Bob laughed. "Suppose we make it both. I'll pay you wages, and +besides give you one fifth of the net profits." + +"I reckon that'll be satisfactory," agreed Noah. "But any Saturday +night you find yourself a little short on net profits, you can buy my +share for about twenty dollars in real money." + +As they crossed the line Noah Ezekiel inquired: + +"But if me and the Chinaman raise your cotton, what are you goin' to +do?" + +"Raise more cotton," Bob answered. "You know," he spoke what had been +in his mind all the time, "I never saw anything I wanted as much as +that Red Butte Ranch. It is on that Dillenbeck System and its water +costs about twice as much as on the regular canals, but it is rich +enough to make up the difference." + +"Well, why don't you get it?" asked Noah. "Reedy Jenkins is goin' to +lose all his leases inside of a month if he doesn't sell 'em; and with +cotton at six cents, they ain't shovin' each other off of Reedy's +stairway tryin' to get to him first. It's my idea that a fellow could +buy out the Red Butte for a song, and hire a parrot to sing it for a +cracker." + +"But that is the smallest part of it," said Bob. "To farm that five +thousand acres in cotton this season would take round a hundred +thousand dollars, and," he laughed, "I lack considerable over +ninety-nine thousand of having that much." + +"Lend it to yourself out of money you are lending for old Crill," +suggested Noah. + +After Bob dropped Noah at the Greek restaurant--"Open Day and +Night--Waffles"--he drove down the street, stopped in front of an +office building, and went up to see a lawyer that he knew. + +"T. J.," he began at once, "I want you to see what is the lowest dollar +that will buy the Red Butte Ranch and its equipment. Reedy Jenkins +can't farm it, and he can't afford to pay $15,000 rent and let it lie +idle. You ought to be able to get it cheap. Get a rock-bottom offer, +but don't by any means let him know who wants it." + +As Bob went down the stairs his head was fairly whizzing with plans. +This thing had taken strong hold of him. He had longed for many months +to get possession of that ranch but had never seriously thought of it +as a possibility. But if Jim Crill would risk the money, it would be +the great opportunity. Five thousand acres of cotton might make a big +fortune in one year. + +"Of course"--doubt had its inning as he drove north toward El +Centro--"if he failed it would mean, instead of a fortune, a lifetime +debt." Yet he was so feverishly hopeful he let out the little machine +a few notches beyond the speed limit. At El Centro he went direct to +the Crill bungalow. + +Mrs. Barnett opened the door when he knocked, opened it about fourteen +inches, and stood looking at him as though he were a leper and had +eaten onions besides. + +"Is Mr. Crill in?" Bob asked. + +"Mr. Crill is not in." She bit off each word with the finality of a +closed argument and shut the door with a whack so decisive it was +almost a slam. + +Bob found Jim Crill in the lobby of the hotel, smoking; he sat down by +him, and concentrated for a moment on the line of argument he had +thought out. + +"Mr. Crill, cotton is selling at six cents now. It won't go any lower." + +"It doesn't need to as far as I'm concerned." The old gentleman puffed +his pipe vigorously. + +"It will be at least ten cents this fall." Bob was figuring on the +back of an old envelope. "Much more next year." + +Then he opened up on the Red Butte Ranch. Bob never did such talking +in his life. He knew every step of his plan, for he had thought out +fifty times just what he would do with that ranch if he had it. He +outlined this plan clearly and definitely to Jim Crill. He carefully +estimated every expense, and allowed liberally for incidentals. He +figured the lowest probable price for cotton, and in addition discussed +the possibilities of failure. + +"I feel sure," he concluded, definitely, "that I can put it through, +that I can make from fifty to a hundred and fifty thousand dollars in +profits on one crop. If you want to risk it and stake me, I'll go +fifty-fifty on the profits." + +"No partnership for me," Crill shook his head vigorously. He had made +some figures on an envelope and sat scowling at them. He had a good +deal of idle money. It this crop paid out--and he felt reasonably sure +Bob would make it go--it would give him $10,000 interest on the +$100,000; and his half of the cotton seed would be worth at least +$10,000 more. Twenty thousand returns against nothing was worth some +risk. + +"Besides," added Bob, "the lease itself, if cotton goes up, will be +worth fifty thousand next year." + +"That's what Reedy Jenkins said," remarked the old gentleman, dryly. +"Just left here an hour ago--wanted to borrow money to pay the rent +this year and let the land lie idle." + +Bob's heart beat uneasily. "Did you lend it to him?" + +"No!" The old man almost spat the word out. "He owes me too much +already." + +For two minutes, three, four, Jim Crill smoked and Bob waited, counting +the thump of his heartbeats in his temple. + +"I'll let you have the hundred thousand," he said directly. "I've +watched you; I know an honest man when I see one." + +Bob's spirits went up like a rocket; but his mind quickly veered round +to Reedy Jenkins. + +"This will make Reedy Jenkins about the maddest man in America," he +remarked. He knew now that Reedy would fight him to the bitterest end. + +Jim Crill grinned. "So'll Evy be mad. You fight Reedy, and I'll--run." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +Imogene Chandler was washing the breakfast dishes out under the canopy +of arrow-weed roof, where they ate summer and winter. The job was +quickly done, for the breakfast service was very abbreviated. She took +a broad-brimmed straw hat from a nail on the corner post, and swinging +it in her hand, for the sun was yet scarcely over the rim of the Red +Buttes far to the east, went out across the field to where her father +was already at work. + +March is the middle of spring in the Imperial Valley and already the +grass grew thick beside the water ditches, and leaves were full grown +on the cottonwood trees. The sunlight, soft through the dewy early +morning, filled the whole valley with a yellow radiance. And out along +the water course a meadowlark sang. + +The girl threw up her arm swinging the hat over her head. She wanted +to shout. She felt the sweeping surge of spring, the call of the wind, +the glow of the sunlight, the boundless freedom of the desert. She had +never felt so abounding in exuberant hope. It had been hard work to +hold on to this lease, a fight for bread at times. But wealth was here +in this soil and in this sun. And more than wealth. There was health +and liberty in it. No heckling social restrictions, no vapid idle +piffle at dull teas; no lugubrious pretence of burdensome duties. Here +one slept and ate and worked and watched the changing light, and +breathed the desert air and lived. It was a good world. + +The girl stopped and crumbled some of the newly plowed earth under the +toe of a trim shoe. How queer that after all these hundreds and +thousands of years the stored chemicals of this land should be +released, and turned by those streams of water into streams of +wealth--fleecy cotton, luscious fruit and melons, food and clothes. +And what nice people lived out here. The Chinamen who worked in the +field, quaint and friendly and faithful. Even the Mexicans with their +less industrious and more tricky habits were warm hearted and +courteous. That serenading Madrigal was very interesting--and +handsome. He had fire in him; perhaps dangerous fire, but what a +contrast to the vapid white-collared clerks or professors in the prim +little eastern town she had known. + +Of course Bob Rogeen did not like him. Imogene instinctively put up +her hand and brushed the wind-blown hair from her forehead, and smiled. + +Bob was jealous. + +But what a man Rogeen was! She had believed there were such men so +unobtrusively generous and chivalrous. But no one she had ever known +before was quite like Bob Rogeen. She remembered the black hair that +clustered thickly over his temples, and the whimsical twist of his +mouth, and the reticent but unafraid brown eyes. + +She had thought many, many times of Rogeen, and always it seemed that +he filled in just what was wanting in this desert--warmth of human +fellowship. Always she thought of him just north over there--out of +sight but very near. True he came very rarely. She wrinkled her +forehead and rubbed the end of her nose with a forefinger. Why was +that? Why didn't he come oftener? Wasn't she interesting? Didn't he +approve of her? + +A reassuring warmth came up to her face and neck. Yes, she believed he +did. His eyes looked it when he thought she was not noticing. + +[Illustration: Holy Joe shanghaies Imogene's ranchmen and discovers +Percy--a willing ally.] + +She reached down and picked up a stick and threw it with a quick, +impulsive gesture into the water and watched it float on down the +ditch. Yes, she was pretty sure Rogeen liked her--but how much? Oh, +well--she took a dozen girlish skips along the path, her hair flying +about her face, and her heart dancing with the early sun on the green +fields before her and the brown desert beyond--oh, well, time would +tell. + +"Daddy," she had come up to where the little bald-headed man was +plowing--throwing up the ridges, "don't you like spring?" + +The ex-professor stopped the team, looked at her through his glasses, +then glanced around the field at the grass and weeds and early plants +that were up. + +"I believe," he said, mildly, "that we are approaching the vernal +equinox. But I had not observed before the gradual unfoldment of +vegetation which we have come to associate in our minds with spring." + +"Oh, daddy, daddy," she laughed deliciously, and leaned over the handle +of the plow and pulled his ear. "You funny, funny man. Why, it's +spring, it's spring! Don't you feel it in your bones? Don't you love +the whole world and everybody?" + +Professor Chandler seriously contemplated the skyline, where the +sunlight showed red on the distant buttes. "I should say, daughter, +that it does give one a feeling of kinship with nature. I fancy the +early Greeks felt it." + +"I fancy they did," said Imogene, "especially if they were in love." + +"In love?" The professor brought his spectacles around to his daughter +questioningly. + +"With everything," she said, laughing. "Daddy, I'm awfully glad we are +back to the soil--instead of back to the Greeks." + +"I am not discontent with our environment." And the little professor +plowed on. She smiled maternally at his back. And then two swift +tears sprang to her eyes. Tender tears. + +"Dear old daddy. It has been good for him. He would have dried up and +blown away in that little old college." + +Returning to the shack she was still bareheaded. She loved the feel of +the sun, and the few freckles it brought only added a piquancy to her +face. + +"I wonder if he"--she meant Rogeen--"will make it go this year. I hope +he has a good crop. It makes one feel that maybe after all things are +as they ought to be when a man like he succeeds. Wonder what his plans +are?" + +Then as she sat down in the shade and began a little very necessary +mending: + +"I do wish he'd come over--and tell me some more about cotton +crops--and himself." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +It is a good thing the wind does not blow from the same direction all +the time. Things would never grow straight if it did. And if one +emotion persists too long the human mind becomes even worse twisted +than a tree. For that reason, if we are normal, buoyance and +depression, ecstasy and pain follow each other as regularly as ripples +on a stream. It is good they do, but it is hard to believe it when we +are down in the trough of the wave. + +As Bob started away with the promise of Jim Crill to lend him the money +for the Red Butte Ranch, his blood was pumping faster than the running +engine of his car. But directly enthusiasm began to slow down. + +Suppose he lost--what an appalling debt for a man working at a hundred +and fifty a month! It never figured in Bob's calculation to settle his +debts in red ink. And there were chances to lose. The lawyer was +waiting for him at the hotel when he returned. + +"I saw Jenkins," he reported. "Says they paid $20,000 for the Red +Butte lease last spring. Half of it for bonus on the lease, and half +for the equipment. He claims the mules and equipment are easily worth +$10,000; and he offers to sell lease and all for that, but won't +consider a dollar less. I heard on the street this evening that a +Chinaman had offered them $7,500. I have an option on it until eleven +o'clock in the morning at $10,000." + +"Thanks, T. J." Bob was figuring in his mind the basis of this price. +"I'll let you know before that time." He went up to his room to think +it out. He could hardly see any chance for loss, yet of course there +was. If this was such a sure thing, why had not some of the more +experienced cotton growers in the valley jumped at it? But Bob +dismissed that line of reasoning with a positive jerk of his head. +That was a weak man's reason--the excuse of failures, sheep philosophy. +Every day of the year some new man came into a community and picked up +a profitable opportunity that other people had stumbled over for years. + +The lease was certainly a bargain; the land was in excellent condition, +and there would be no difficulty about labour with plenty of Chinese +and Mexicans. The price of cotton could scarcely go lower. Bob had no +fear of that. Then what were the dangers? The chance of a water +shortage was remote. There had been little trouble about water. Of +course bad farming could spoil a crop; but Lou Wing was an expert +cotton grower, and you could trust a Chinaman's vigilance. With Lou as +a partner he could be sure the crop would receive proper attention. + +"It seems good!" Bob walked out of his room on to the balcony that ran +the length of the hotel and stood overlooking the twinkling lights of +the town. Calexico was getting to be quite a little city, and the +string of lights were flung out for half a mile to the east and north. +Across the line the high-arched sign of the Red Owl already winked +alluringly. + +He looked at his watch. It was only a quarter past eight. He turned +back to his room, took his violin from the battered trunk, went to the +garage, and in fifteen minutes was chugging south between the rows of +cottonwood and willows that stood dim guardians in the night against +the desert. + +Imogene Chandler heard the machine coming. She put on her new spring +coat and came out into the yard. The night was a little cool, and that +new coat was the first article of wearing apparel she had bought for +herself in three years. + +"I'm glad you brought your fiddle again," she said as Bob came into the +yard. She was bare-headed, and her hair showed loose and wavy in the +starlight. "I've felt rather lilty all day." She snapped her fingers +and danced round in a circle. "Just a little hippety-hoppety," she +laughed, dropping down upon the bench. "Sit down and play to us--me +and this wonderful night." + +"I want to talk first." He laid the fiddle across his knees. In spite +of the spell of the desert, figures were still running through his head. + +"How like a man!" she said, mockingly. "And is it about yourself?" + +"Of course," he replied, soberly. "You don't think I'd waste gasolene +to come down here to talk about any other man, do you?" + +"Before you begin on that absorbing subject," she bantered, "tell me, +will our cotton now sell for enough to pay Mr. Crill that note?" + +"Yes, but you are not going to sell it. He has extended the note +another six months. Cotton is going up this fall." + +"Isn't that great!" she exclaimed. "Here we have money enough for +another crop, and can speculate on last year's cotton by holding for +higher prices. Why, man, if it should go to ten cents we'd clear +$3,000 on that cotton above what we already have." + +"Yes, and if it goes to twelve, you'll have $4,500 to the good." + +He sat still for a moment, gripping the neck of his fiddle with his +fingers as though choking it into waiting. + +"Well?" she prompted. + +"I've got a chance for something big." He got up and walked, holding +the fiddle by the neck, swinging it back and forth. "If I put it +through, it will be a fortune; but if I fail I'll be in debt world +without end--mortgaged all the rest of my life!" + +Walking back and forth before her in the starlight he told Imogene +Chandler of the big opportunity--of the rare combination of +circumstances which made it possible for him, without property or +backing, to borrow one hundred thousand dollars for a crop; and +marshalled his reasons for belief in its success. "The water might +fail," she suggested, when he had finished and sat down again with the +fiddle across his knee. + +"Yes, it might," he admitted. + +"The Chinamen might get into trouble among themselves or with the +Mexicans and leave you at a critical time." + +"Possibly." + +"The duty might be raised on cotton," she added. + +"Yes," he confessed. + +"But," she continued, "there is one thing much more likely than any of +these--a thing fairly certain. Reedy Jenkins will fight you in every +way he can invent. First he'll fight to get your money; and then he'll +fight you just for hate." + +"I have thought of that," Bob again got up, moved by the agitation of +doubt. If it were his own money to be risked he would not hesitate a +moment--but one hundred thousand dollars of another man's money and his +own reputation! + +"For these reasons," continued Imogene Chandler, "I advise you to go +into it--and _you'll_ win. + +"Now play to me." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +Imogene Chandler had spoken most confidently to Bob of his success. +But after he was gone she began to be pestered by uneasy doubts--which +is the way of a woman. + +She and her father had been compelled to operate on small capital. +They had figured, or rather Imogene had, dollar at a time. This new +venture of Rogeen's rather appalled her. A hundred thousand of +borrowed money! It was almost unthinkable. Anywhere else but in this +land of surprises such a proposition would seem entirely fantastic. + +With so much involved any disastrous turn would leave him hopelessly in +debt. And besides--her thoughts took a more uneasy turn--she felt it +was going to put him in danger. Reedy Jenkins and his Mexican +associates would be very bitter over Bob's getting the Red Butte--and +they might do anything. + +The next evening, when Noah Ezekiel came over, Imogene had not gone to +her shack. + +"Sit down, Noah," she said, "I want to talk to you." + +"That's what my maw used to say when I'd been swimmin' on Sunday," +observed the hill billy as he let his lank form down on the bench. + +Imogene laughed. "Well, I'm not going to scold you for breaking the +Sabbath or getting your feet wet, or forgetting to shut the gate. What +I want, Noah, is to get your opinion." + +"It's funny about opinions," remarked Noah impersonally to the stars. +"Somebody is always gettin' your opinion just to see how big a fool you +are, and how smart they are." + +"Noah Ezekiel Foster," the girl spoke reprovingly. "You know better +than that. You know I want your opinion because I think you know more +about cotton than I do." + +"All right," said Noah, meekly. "Lead on. I got more opinions in my +head than Ben Davis' sheep used to have cockle burs in their wool." + +"What do you think of the Red Butte Ranch?" + +"It's a blamed fine ranch." + +"Do you think Mr. Rogeen will make money on it?" She tried to sound +disinterested. + +"That reminds me," replied Noah, "of Sam Scott. Sam went to Dixion and +started a pool hall under Ike Golberg's clothing store. After Sam got +it all fixed up with nice green-topped tables and white balls, and +places to spit between shots, he got me down there to look it over. + +"'How does she look?' says Sam. + +"'She looks all right,' I said. + +"'I'm going to get rich,' declares Sam. + +"'That all depends' I says, 'on one thing.' + +"'What's that?' says Sam. + +"'On whuther there is more money comes down them stairs than goes up.'" + +Noah twisted his shoulders and again looked up impersonally at the +stars. + +"You see makin' money is mighty simple. All you got to do is take in +more than you pay out. But the dickens of it is, losin' it is just as +simple--and a durned sight easier." + +Imogene was smiling into the dusk, but her thoughts were on serious +matters. + +"Well, which do you think Mr. Rogeen will do?" + +Noah twisted his shoulders again, and shuffled his feet on the ground. + +"I always hate to give a plumb out opinion--because it nearly always +ruins your reputation as a prophet. But Bob ain't nobody's fool. And +he's white from his heels to his eyeballs--everything except his liver." + +Imogene laughed, but felt a swelling in the throat. That tribute from +the hill bill meant more than the verdict of a court. + +"The only trouble is," Noah was speaking a little uneasily himself, +"Reedy Jenkins is a skunk and he's got some pizen rats gnawing for him. +There ain't nothin' they won't do--except what they are afraid to. +Bob's got 'em so they don't tie their goats around his shack any more. +But they are going to do him dirt, sure as a tadpole makes a toad. + +"Reedy Jenkins has got hold of a lot of money somewhere again; and he's +set out to bush Bob, and get away with the pile. I don't know just how +he's aimin' to do it; but Reedy don't never have any regrets over what +happens to the other fellow if it makes money for him." + +The hill billy's words made Imogene more uneasy than before. And yet +looking at the lank, droll fellow sitting there in the starlight, she +again smiled, and sighed. + +"Well, I'm mighty glad Mr. Rogeen has you for a friend," she said aloud. + +"A friend," observed Noah, "is sorter like a gun--expensive in town but +comfortin' in the country. + +"But really I ain't no good, Miss Chandler. As I used to say to my +dad, 'if the Lord made me, he must have done it sort of absent +mindedly, for he ain't never found no place for me.'" + +Imogene arose. She knew this big-hearted, rough hill billy must be +tired. She went over and laid her hand lightly on his shoulder and +said with a solemn tightening of the throat--"Noah, you are the salt of +the earth--and I'd rather have you for a friend than a diamond king." + +Noah arose, emotion always made him uncomfortable, and shuffled off to +his tent without a word. + +But he turned at the entrance to the tent, and looked back. The girl +sat quite still, her face turned up toward the stars. + +"Well," said Noah to himself, "she's got me all right." + +On the fourteenth of June Bob Rogeen and Noah Ezekiel Foster rode +through the Red Butte Ranch. + +The fields lay before them checkered off into squares by the irrigation +ditches, level as a table. The long rows of cotton were five to ten +inches high, and of a dark green colour. The stand on most of the +fields was almost perfect. One Chinaman with a span of mules +cultivated fifty acres. + +"Lou Wing is a great farmer," continued Bob, enthusiastically. "He is +doing the work for 45 per cent. of the crop. I pay the water and the +rent; and of course I have to advance him the money to feed and pay his +hands. He has twenty partners with a separate camp for each; and each +partner has four Chinamen working for him. That is system, Noah. It +certainly looks like riches, doesn't it?" + +"All flesh is grass," Noah sighed lugubriously, "except some that's +weeds." + +"Cotton is going up every day," said Bob. "It was nine cents and a +fraction yesterday." + +"That means," remarked Noah Ezekiel, "Reedy Jenkins could sell them +eight thousand bales he's got stacked up on this side and pay all his +debts and have twenty thousand over." + +"But Reedy is not paying his debts." + +"Not yet," said Noah; "he is borrowin' more money." + +"Is that so?" Bob was sharply interested. He had not feared Reedy +much while he was out of funds. "When did you hear that?" + +"Saturday night," replied Noah. "You can gather a whole lot more +information round the Red Owl than you can moss." + +"I wonder what he is going to do with it?" Bob's mind was still on +Reedy Jenkins. + +"He's done done with it," answered Noah. "He's bought the Dillenbeck +irrigation system." + +Instantly all exuberant desire to shout went from Bob's throat and a +chill ran along his veins. In a twinkling the heat of the friendly sun +upon those wide green fields with their fingered network of a hundred +water ditches became a threat and a menace. After all, by what a +narrow thread does security hang! + +Bob walked as one on a precipice during the following weeks. Never was +a man more torn between hope and fear. On the one hand, the cotton +grew amazingly. Fed by the nourishment stored in that soil which had +lain dormant for thousands of years, watered by the full sluices from +the Colorado River and warmed like a hotbed by the floods of sunshine +day after day, the stalks climbed and climbed and branched until they +looked more like green bushes than frail plants. Bob rode the fields +all day long, even when the thermometer crept up to 127 in the shade, +and a skillet left in the sun would fry bacon and eggs perfectly done +in seven minutes. Often he continued to ride until far into the night, +watching the chopping of the weeds, watching the men in the fields, and +most of all watching the watering. Yes, the crop was advancing with a +promise almost staggering in its richness. It looked now as though +some of these fields would go to a bale and a half an acre. And slowly +but surely the price of cotton had climbed since March, a quarter of a +cent one day, a half the next, a jump of a whole cent one Friday; and +now on the second day of August it touched 10.37. With a bale to the +acre at that price Bob could add $30,000 to his estimated expense and +still clear a hundred thousand dollars on this crop. When he thought +of it as he rode along the water ditches in the early evening, he grew +fairly dizzy with hope. But then on the other side: the unformed +menace--Reedy Jenkins owned the water system! + +The fear had taken tangible shape when he got his water bill for June. +But there was no raise in price. Again yesterday, the bill for July +came, and still no raise in price. + +It was ten o'clock that night when he got into Calexico and went to the +hotel. + +As the clerk gave him the key to his room, he also handed him a letter, +saying: + +"A special delivery that came for you an hour ago; I signed for it." + +Bob's fingers shook slightly as he took it. Glancing swiftly at the +corner of the envelope he read: + + DILLENBECK WATER CO. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +Reedy Jenkins, the first night of August, sat in his office, the +windows open, the door open, the neck of his soft shirt open, and his +low shoes kicked off. But his plump, pink face was freshly shaven and +massaged and he wore two-dollar silk socks. Even in dishabille Reedy +had an air of ready money. + +There had been dark days last fall when he had been so closely cornered +by his creditors that it took many a writhe and a wriggle to get +through. Nobody but himself, unless it was the dour Tom Barton, knew +how overwhelmingly he was bankrupt. + +But Reedy had kept up an affable front to all his creditors and a ready +explanation. "We are all broke, everybody in same boat. Why sweat +over it? Of course I've got some cotton across the line; we'll just +leave it there and save the duty until it'll sell. Then I'll pay out." + +He kept up this reassurance until cotton began to sell, and then he +postponed: + +"Wait; we are all easier now. Got enough so I can cash in any day and +have plenty to pay all bills. But just wait until it goes a little +higher." + +And when it had gone to eight cents, eight and a half, and at last +nine, his creditors had ceased to worry him. Now that Reedy could sell +out any day and liquidate, and still be worth a hundred thousand or +more, there was no hurry to collect. Nobody wants to push a man who +can pay his debts any hour. Some of them even began to lend him more +money. He had borrowed $25,000 as a first payment on the $200,000 for +the Dillenbeck water system. + +To-night Reedy had a list of figures before him again. Cotton had +touched 9.76 to-day. Things were coming to a head. It was time to act. + +Reedy had one set of figures in which 8,000 bales were multiplied by +fifty and a fraction. It added $474,000. There was a column of +smaller sums, the largest of which was, Revenue $28,000. These smaller +sums were totalled and subtracted from $474,000, leaving $365,000--a +sum over which Reedy moistened his lips. Then he multiplied 15,000 +acres by something and set that sum also under the $365,000 and added +again. The total made him roll his pencil between his two plump hands. + +Madrigal, the Mexican Jew, entered with a jaunty gesture, and took a +chair and lighted a cigarette. + +"When did you get back from Guaymas?" Reedy leaned back, lighted a +match on the bottom of his chair and touched it to a plump cigar. + +"Yesterday, Senor Reedy." There was always a mixture of aggressiveness +and mocking freshness in Madrigal's tone and air. + +"See Bondeberg?" + +The Mexican nodded. + +"Everything all right?" + +"_Si, si._" Madrigal sometimes was American and sometimes Mexican. + +"I've had a dickens of a time getting trucks," said Reedy, speaking in +a low, casual tone. "But I got 'em--twenty. Be unloaded to-morrow or +the next day. I've arranged to take care of the duty. They are to be +sold, you understand, with an actual bill of sale to each of the twenty +Mexican chauffeurs you have employed." + +Madrigal nodded lightly as though all of this was primer work for him. + +"Have everything ready by the tenth. I think I can close up this water +deal by that time." + +As the Mexican left, Reedy reached for his telephone and called El +Centro. + +"Mrs. Barnett?" Soft oiliness oozed from his voice. "This is Reedy. +What are you doing this evening? Nothing? How would you like a little +spin out to the foot of the mountains to get a cool breath and watch +the moon rise?--All right. I'll be along in about thirty minutes. By, +by." The words sounded almost like kisses. + +"Mrs. Barnett"--Reedy slowed down the machine as they drove off across +the desert toward the foothills--"I owe everything to you." + +The widow, all in white now--very light, cool white--felt a little +shivery thrill of pride go over her. She half simpered and tried to +sound deprecating. + +"Oh, you merely flatter me." She was rolling a small dainty +handkerchief in her palms. + +"No, indeed!" responded Reedy, roundly. "No one can estimate the +influence of a good woman on a man's life." + +"I'm so glad"--the shivery thrill got to her throat--"if I've really +helped you--Reedy." It was the first time she had used his given name, +although he had often urged it. + +"You know," he continued, "in spite of the great opportunities for +wealth here, I do not believe that I could have endured this valley if +it had not been for you. You can't imagine what it means to a man, +after the disagreeable hurly-burly of the day's business, to know there +is a pure, sweet, womanly woman waiting for him on the porch." + +Mrs. Barnett gulped, filled with emotion. "I do believe," she almost +gushed, "men like the shy, womanly woman who keeps her place best after +all." + +"They certainly do!" + +"I don't see," mused Mrs. Barnett, "how a man really _could_ care for a +woman who becomes so--so--well, rough and sunburned, and coarsened by +sordid work--like that Chandler woman, for instance. I mean, I don't +see how any _good_ man could care for that sort." + +"Nor I," said Reedy, emphatically. He steered with one hand, and got +both of her hands in the other. + +"This year is going to be a great one for me. Cotton is already over +ten cents. I'll need only $25,000 more, and then I can clean up a +fortune for all of us." + +Mrs. Barnett, still thrilling to that hand pressure, moved a little +uneasily. + +"Uncle Jim has been right hard to manage for the last two times. He +was real ugly about that last $40,000. I had to remind him how much my +poor mother did for him and how little he had done for us before he +would listen to me." + +No wonder the widow quaked within her at the honour of being elected to +do it all over again. It was not because she hesitated to attempt it +for so noble a man; but for the moment she was desperate for a way to +go at it. She had used in the last effort every "womanly" device known +to conservative tradition for separating a man from his money. But she +hesitated only a moment. A watery heart and a dry eye never won a fat +loan. Undoubtedly her womanly intuition--or Providence--would show her +a way. + +"I'll do my best, Mr. Jenkins"--she lapsed into the formal again--"to +get the loan for you. But Uncle is getting right obstinate." + +"That's all right, little girl," he patted her hands. "I trust you to +do it, you could move the heart of Gibraltar. And as I've promised you +all the time, when I close up these deals I'm going to give you +personally $25,000 of the profits in appreciation of your assistance. +And that is not all"--he squeezed both the widow's hands a moment, then +released them as if by terrific resolution--"but more of that later. +We must close up this prosaic business first." + +The next morning at ten o'clock Jim Crill stamped up the outside +stairway, stamped through the open door and threw a check for $25,000 +on Reedy's desk. + +"That's the last," the old gentleman snapped with finality. "And I +want to begin to see some payments mighty quick." + +Reedy smiled as the old gentleman stamped back down the stairs, proud +of his own ability as a "worker." And he was not without admiration +for Mrs. Barnett's ability in that line. It would be interesting to +know how she had done it so quickly. + +"If the old man knew," Reedy picked up the check and grinned at the +crabbed signature, "what this is going for, he'd drop dead with +apoplexy at the foot of the stairs." + +He reached for the telephone and called the freight agent: + +"Are those motor trucks in yet? Good! We'll have them unloaded at +once." + +There are two ways to make a lot of money perfectly honestly: One is to +produce much at a time when the product legitimately has such a high +value that it shows a good profit. The other is to plan, invent, or +organize so as to help a great many men save a little more, or earn a +little more, and share the little with each of the many benefited. And +there are two ways to get money wrongfully: One is by criminal +dishonesty--taking under some of the multiple forms of theft what does +not at all belong to one. The other is by moral dishonesty--forcing or +aggravating acute needs, and taking an unfair advantage of them, +blackmailing a man by his critical wants. + +Reedy Jenkins had merely intended to be the latter. He had not planned +to produce anything, nor yet to help other men produce, but to farm +other men's needs--get hold of something so necessary for their success +that it would force tribute from them. He planned to hold a hammer +over the weakest link in others' financial deals and threaten to break +it unless they paid him double for the hammer. + +Reedy indorsed Jim Crill's check, and stuck it in his vest pocket. He +liked to go into a bank and carelessly pull $25,000 checks out of his +vest pocket. Then he took from a drawer twenty letters already typed, +signed them, and put them into envelopes addressed to the ranchers who +bought water of the Dillenbeck Water Co. + +"Now"--Reedy moistened his lips and nodded his head--"we are all set." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +Bob tore the letter open with one rip, and read it with his back to the +desk: + + +DEAR SIR: + +We regret to say that dredging and other immediate repairs on our canal +make a rather heavy assessment imperative. The work must be done at +once, and the company's funds are entirely exhausted. Your assessment +is $10 an acre; and this must be paid before we can serve you with any +more water. + +Very truly, + DILLENBECK WATER Co., + Per R. Jenkins, Pres. & Mgr. + + +Ten dollars an acre! Fifty thousand dollars! Bob walked slowly out of +the hotel. There was no use to go up to his room. No sleep to-night. + +Jenkins' plot was clear now. He had merely been waiting for the most +critical time. The next two waterings were the most vital of the whole +season. The little squares that form the boll were taking shape. If +the cotton did not get water at this time the bolls would fall off +instead of setting. + +Bob walked down the street, on through to the Mexican section of town, +thinking. He must do something, but what? + +It was a sweltering night and people were mostly outdoors. Under the +vines in front of a small Mexican house a man played a guitar and a +woman hummed an accompaniment. Across the street a little Holiness +Mission was holding prayer meeting, and through the open windows an +organ and twenty voices wailed out a religious tune. + +Bob turned and walked back rapidly, and crossed the Mexican line. At +the Red Owl he might hear something. + +It was so hot that even the gamblers were listless to-night. The only +stir of excitement was round one roulette wheel. Bob started toward +the group, and saw the centre of it was Reedy Jenkins with his hat +tipped back, shirt open at the throat, sleeves rolled to elbows, +playing stacks of silver dollars on the "thirty." + +Bob leaned against one of the idle tables and talked with the game +keeper, a pleasant, friendly young chap. + +"Wonder what the Mexicans are going to do with so many motor trucks?" +the gamester asked casually. + +"Motor trucks?" Bob repeated. + +"Yes, they unloaded a whole string of them over here to-day. One of +the boys said he counted twenty." + +As Bob left the gambling hall Reedy was still playing the roulette +wheel at twenty dollars a throw. + +Rogeen got his car and started south. He would see for himself if +there was any basis for Jenkins' claim that immediate work must be done +on the water system. It was late and there were no lights at any of +the little ranch shacks over the fields. + +Chandler's place was dark like the rest. They were sleeping. Their +notice would not come until to-morrow or next day. He would not wake +them. Anyway to-night he had forgotten his fiddle, but he grimly +remembered his gun. + +He drove through the Red Butte Ranch without stopping. He could +scarcely bear even to look to the right or left at those long rich rows +of dark green cotton. + +Turning off the main road south toward the Dillenbeck canal, something +unusual stirred in Bob's consciousness. At first he could not think +what was the matter; but directly he got it--the car was running +differently. This road across a patch of the desert was usually so +bumpy one had to hold himself down. To-night the car ran smoothly. +The road had been worked--was being worked now--for a quarter of a mile +ahead he heard an engine and made out some sort of road-dragging outfit. + +The simplest way in the world to make a road across a sandy desert, or +to work one that has been used, is to take two telephone poles, fasten +them the same distance apart as automobile wheels, hitch on an engine, +and drag them lengthwise along the road. This not only grinds down the +uneven bumps but packs the sand into a smooth, firm bed for the +machine's wheels. + +That was what they were doing here. Bob stayed back and watched. He +did not want to overtake them. The road-breaking outfit crossed the +canal directly and headed south by east off into the desert. Bob +stopped his machine on the plank bridge, and watched them pull away +into the night. Then he gave a long, speculative whistle. + +"I wonder," he said, "what philanthropist is abroad in the land at one +o'clock in the morning?" + +Rogeen left his machine and followed on foot along the bank of the +canal for two miles. The water was flowing freely. There was no sign +of immediate need for dredging. Some of the small ranches were getting +water to-night. He was glad of that. The Red Butte had finished +watering its five-thousand-acre crop a week ago. It would be three +days before they would need to begin again. + +He went back to his machine and drove clear up to the intake from the +Valley Irrigation Company's canal. The water was running smoothly all +the way. The ditches seemed open, and in fair shape. Some work was +needed of course every day; but there was no call for any quick, +expensive repairs. + +[Illustration: "Make it plain to the Chandler girl that this is her +last chance to sell before I ruin her crop."] + +No, Jenkins' call for money was purely for himself and not the water +system. The whole thing was robbery. But how could it be prevented? +Injunctions by American courts did not extend over here, and Reedy +undoubtedly had an understanding with the Mexican authorities. + +There was nothing for it, thought Bob, but to choose one of two evils: +Be robbed of $50,000, or lose five thousand acres of cotton. He set +his teeth and started the little car plugging back across the sand +toward the American line. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +A little after daylight Bob was in El Centro. Jim Crill, always an +early riser, was on the porch reading the morning paper. + +"Come and have breakfast with me," Bob called from the machine. "Got +some things to talk over." + +He handed Crill the letter from the water company. Not a muscle in the +old gentleman's face changed as he read, but two spots of red showed at +the points of his sharp cheekbones. + +"If it was your own money in that crop, what would you do?" asked Jim +Crill, shortly. + +"I'd fight him to hell and back." Bob's eyes smoldered. + +"Then fight him to hell and back," said the old man, shortly. "And if +you don't get back, I'll put up a tombstone for you. + +"I've believed all along," said Jim Crill, "that Reedy Jenkins is a +rascal. But," he lifted his left eyebrow significantly, "womenfolks +don't always see things as we do. Anyway, my trust was in cotton--it +is honest--and sooner or later I'll get his cotton. He's got to bring +it across the line to sell it. + +"I've taken up all the other liens on that cotton," Crill continued, +"so there'll be no conflicting claims. I've got $215,000 against those +eight thousand bales." + +He took a bill book from his hip pocket, and removed some papers. + +"I was coming over to see you this morning. Been called away. Trouble +in our Texas oil field. Main gusher stopped. May be a pauper instead +of a millionaire. Would have got out of this damned heat before now if +I hadn't wanted to keep an eye on Jenkins. + +"Now I'm going to turn these bills over to you for collection. Get +$215,000 with 10 per cent. interest, and half his cotton seed." + +Bob's eyes were straight ahead on the road as he drove back to +Calexico; his hands held the wheel with a steady grip, but his mind was +neither on the road nor on the machine. + +"Well," he smiled to himself, grimly, "at any rate, I'm accumulating a +good deal of business to transact with Reedy Jenkins. I suppose first +move is a personal interview with him." + +Bob stopped the machine in the side street and went up the outside +stairway of the red brick building, with purpose in his steps. But the +door of the office was closed, a notice tacked on it. Bob stepped +forward and read it eagerly: + + +"Mr. Jenkins' office is temporarily removed to the main building of the +Mexican Cotton Ginning Co." + + +"And so," said Bob as he went down the stairs, "Reedy has moved across +the line." That was puzzling, and not at all reassuring. + +Rogeen did not go to the cotton gin to see Reedy. He wanted first to +find out what the move meant. For two days he was on the road eighteen +hours a day, most of the time on the Mexican side, gathering up the +threads of Jenkins' plot. The other ranchers by this time had all +received their notices, and there was murder in some of their eyes. +But most of them were Americans, the rest Chinamen, and neither wanted +any trouble on that side. + +"Jenkins has a stand-in, damn him," said Black Ben, one of the +ranchers. "I'd like to plug him, but I don't want to get into a +Mexican jail." + +The second evening he met Noah Ezekiel at the entrance of the Red Owl. +Bob had instructed Noah and Lou Wing to continue the work in the cotton +fields exactly as though nothing impended. + +"I was just lookin' for you," said Noah a little sheepishly. + +"All right," responded Bob. "You've found me. What is on your mind?" + +"Let us go a little apart from these sons of Belial," said Noah, +sauntering past the Owl into the shadows. + +"I picked up a fellow down by the Red Butte today," began Noah, "that +had been on one of these here walkin' tours--the kind you take when +your money gives out. After he'd stuffed himself with pottage and +Chinese greens, and fried bacon, and a few other things round the camp, +he got right talkative. He says they've broke a good road through the +sand straight from Red Butte to the head of the Gulf of California. +And that there is a little ship down there from Guaymas lying round +waiting for something to happen." + +"Noah"--Bob gripped Ezekiel's arm--"I've been working on that very +theory. Your news clinches it. Reedy is never going to take that +cotton across the American line. He is planning to shoot it down +across that eighty-five miles of desert to the Gulf on motor trucks, +ship it to Guaymas, and sell it there to an exporter. He is not even +going to pay poor old Ah Sing for picking it; and as a final get-away +stake he is trying to hold us up for $150,000 on the water. He has +moved across the line for safety, and never intends to move back." + +"He won't need to," said Noah Ezekiel. "He is due to get away with +about half a million. But what do we care?" Noah shook his head +solemnly. "As my dad used to say, 'Virtue is its own reward.' That +ought to comfort you, Brother Rogeen, when you are working out that +$78,000 of debts at forty dollars a month." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +Early next morning Bob went to the executive offices, and waited two +hours for the arrival of the governor. Rogeen knew of course that +Madrigal, the Mexican Jew, was engineering the Mexican end of the +conspiracy; but he wanted to discover who the Mexican official was from +whom they were securing protection. + +Bob stated his business briefly, forcibly. He was one of the ranchers +who got water from the Dillenbeck canal. The company was endeavouring +to rob them. The ranchers wanted protection, and wanted water at once. +The official was very courteous, solicitous, sympathetic. He would +look into it immediately. Would Senor Rogeen call again tomorrow? + +Senor Rogeen would most certainly call again tomorrow. When he left +the office he went direct to Ah Sing's ranch. + +"Ah Sing," said Bob, "I want you to turn over to me your $80,000 claim +against Reedy Jenkins for picking his eight thousand bales of cotton, +and give me power of attorney to collect it." + +"Allee light, I give him." + +The next morning when the Mexican official came down to the office at +ten o'clock he assured Bob most regretfully that although impetuous and +violent efforts had been made to right his wrongs, unfortunately so far +they had found no law governing the case. The Dillenbeck Company was a +private water company, owned by American citizens; the Mexican +officials had no power to fix the rate. + +Bob went direct to the Mexican cotton gin. + +"Jenkins"--Bob sat down on the edge of the offered chair, his feet on +the floor, his knees bent as though ready to spring up--"I need to +begin watering the Red Butte to-day, but your man tells me he has +orders to keep the gates shut." + +Reedy nodded, his plump lips shut tight, an amused leer in the tail of +his eye. "You got my notice, didn't you? No cash, no water. Either +ten dollars an acre spot cash or no spot cotton." + +"Jenkins"--Bob's fingers were clutching his own knees as though holding +themselves off the rascal's throat--"that is the dirtiest steal I ever +knew." + +"That is not near what the water is really worth to you," said Reedy, +nonchalantly. "It is only about 20 per cent. of what your crop will +make--if it does not burn up." + +The knots in Bob's arms flattened out, and his tone took on casualness +again. + +"Jenkins, I've got a couple of little bills against you that I'm +authorized to collect. One on the American side is a trifle of +$215,000 which you owe Mr. Crill; the other on this side is for $80,000 +that you owe Ah Sing. Do you wish to take care of them now? Or shall +I attach your cotton?" + +Reedy's pink face and wide mouth took on a grin that fairly oozed +amusement. "Attach my cotton, by all means." + +Bob got up, hesitated a second, sat down again, and took out his check +book. As his pen scratched for a moment, the grin on Reedy's face +changed to one of victorious greed. Rogeen tore out the check and +handed it to Reedy. + +"There is $1,600. Turn water on the Chandler ranch. As for mine, you +can be damned." + +Reedy toyed idly with the check a moment, slowly tore it up, and threw +it in the wastebasket. + +"I'm sorry, but I can't get water to the Chandler ranch without the +rest order it, too. Perhaps"--he again took on a leer--"if Miss +Chandler should come in and see me personally, something might be +arranged." + +"Jenkins"--the coolest, most concentrated anger of his life was in +Bob's tone--"I know your whole plot. You can't get away with it. You +may ruin my cotton, probably will, but I'm going to smash you and sell +the pieces to pay your debts." + +Reedy got to his feet, and flushed hotly. The threat had gone home. + +"There are six hundred Mexican soldiers and policemen that will answer +my call. You won't make a move they don't see. + +"Don't bank on any threat about the United States Government. Mexicans +have been picking off Americans whenever they got ready for the last +three years; and nothing ever happens. They aren't one bit scared of +the American Government. + +"Don't fool yourself, Rogeen; you are outclassed this time. I know +what I'm doing, and I'm going to do it. If you don't want to rot in a +Mexican jail or bleach on the sands somewhere, you'll walk softly and +stay on the other side." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +When Bob left the Mexican cotton gin after the interview with Reedy +Jenkins he had the feeling of furious futility which many a brave man +has felt under similar circumstances. Yonder, two hundred yards away, +he could see American soldiers patrolling the border; yet so little +influence and so little fear did that big benign government wield over +here that he knew that scoundrel and his villainous Mexican +confederates could ruin his fields, throw him in jail and, even as +Reedy threatened, bleach his bones on the sand, and no help come from +over there--not in time to save him. + +And yet there must be ways. There were other Mexican officials than +the thieving one that Reedy had bribed to protect his movements and +robberies. There were some fair Mexicans; and there were others, even +if unfair, on whom the pressure of self-interest could surely be +brought to bear. + +It was unfortunate, Bob reflected, that Jim Crill had bought up all the +debts against Jenkins' cotton. If these debts had been left scattered +among the banks and stores and implement dealers, there would have been +some influential cooperation in his effort to get action from the +Mexican officials. + +Bob went across the line and filed a long telegram to the State +Department at Washington outlining the situation and asking for +assistance. Then he caught the train for Los Angeles, where he had +learned the American consul at the nearest Mexican port, whom he knew, +was on a vacation. + +The consul was very indignant at the treatment Rogeen was receiving and +promised to investigate. + +"Investigate!" Bob ran his fingers through his thick, sweaty hair, and +unconsciously gave it a jerk. "But, man, I need water right now! It's +the most critical time of the whole crop. Every day of delay means a +loss of ten, fifteen, twenty thousand dollars." + +"I know," said the consul; "but don't you see no officer can act merely +on the word of one man. We have to get evidence and forward it to the +department. If only I had the authority to act on my own initiative, I +could bring them to time in twenty-four hours." + +"If you wired to the department for authority," suggested Bob, +"couldn't you get it?" + +The consul shook his head doubtfully. He really was impressed by Bob's +desperate situation. "I'll try it, and I'll be down to-morrow to see +what I can do." + +Bob returned to Calexico with a little hope--not much but a little. +Anyway, he was anxious to see the department's reply to his own appeal. +But it had not replied. The Western Union operator was almost insulted +that Bob should imagine there was a message there for him. + +Bob wrote another appeal, a little longer, and if possible more urgent, +and fired that into Washington. + +The consul came the following day. He interviewed the other ranchers +and verified Bob's statements. He took affidavits, and made up quite a +bulky report and dispatched it by mail to Washington. In the meantime +he wired, briefly outlining the substance of his letter, and asked for +temporary authority to take measures that would force the Mexican +officials to act. + +Bob was fairly hopeful over this. He waited anxiously for twenty-four +hours for some answer. None came. This was the third day since his +cotton began to need water. The thermometer went to 131 at two +o'clock. No green plant could survive long without water. + +He rode all day enlisting the cooperation of influential men in the +valley on the American side, and got several of them to send wires to +Washington. Every night when he returned to Calexico he went eagerly +to the telegraph office; but each time the operator emphatically shook +his head. Then Bob laboured over another long telegram, begging for +haste; he paid nine dollars and forty cents toll and urged that the +message be rushed. + +By the fifth day Rogeen was getting desperate. He returned to Calexico +at seven o'clock, jumped out of his car, and hurried into the telegraph +office. + +A message! A telegram for him at last! He had got action. Maybe even +yet he could save most of his crop. The message was collect--$1.62. +He dropped two silver dollars on the counter and without noticing the +change tore open the message. It was from the department at Washington +and was brief: + + +DEAR SIR: + +If you file your complaints in writing, they will be referred to the +proper department for consideration. + +R. P. M., _Ass't to Sec. of State._ + + +Then Bob gave up, turned about gloomily, and went out to his machine, +and started south toward the Chandler ranch. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +As the sun, like a burnished lid to some hotter caldron, slid down +behind the yellow sandhills that rimmed the desert, Imogene Chandler +felt as though she must scream. She would have made some wild outcry +of relief if it had not been for her father, who still sat in the +doorway of the shack, as he had all day, gray and bent like a dusty, +wilted mullein stalk. + +It had been a terrible day--the hottest of the summer. And for a week +now the irrigation ditches had been dry. To-day the cotton leaves had +wilted; and the girl had looked away from the fields all afternoon. It +tortured her to see those rich green plants choking for water. + +The sun gone, and a little relief from the heat, she began to prepare +supper. + +[Illustration: "Shut off the water? Why all the cotton in the valley +will be withered in a day."] + +As she stirred flour for biscuits, Imogene was blaming herself for ever +bringing her father here. But it had looked so like the great +opportunity to escape from the fetters of dry rot and poverty. So near +were they to success, with the rising prices this crop would make them +a small fortune--five thousand, perhaps seven or eight thousand dollars +clear--if only it had water. But to see it burn day by day, and all +because of the greed of Reedy Jenkins! She had sent her father with +the tribute of sixteen hundred dollars to Jenkins, but he had refused +it. He could not turn on the water for so small a ranch. She knew he +was trying to force Bob Rogeen through her to submit to the robbery. + + +Imogene and her father were dully eating their supper when Bob's +machine stopped at the ranch. But the moment the light from the +swinging lantern over the table fell on his face, she knew it was +hopeless, and her mind leaped from her own trouble to his. + +"It all comes down to this"--they had not discussed the fight until the +little professor had gone to bed--"my backing must mean more to the +Mexican officials than Reedy Jenkins'. If I could only get Washington +to give the consul power to act, then we could apply pressure. +But"--he shrugged his shoulders fatalistically and looked moodily up at +the glittering stars--"you see how hopeless that is." + +She gave a jump that almost scared him, and grabbed his arm. Her face +was so close to his he could see the excitement in her eyes even +through the dusk. + +"I can help; it can be done!" + +She was electrically alive now. "Daddy was a classmate of the +President's and was an instructor under him before we came West. He +thinks a lot of daddy, but daddy would never use his friendship with +the President to get a job. He's got to use it now--for you--for all +of us! Write a personal telegram to the President--the sort that will +get immediate action--and I'll make daddy sign it." + +Bob was fairly white with excitement, and his hand shook as they sat +down at the board table under the lantern and carefully composed that +telegram. This was their one last hope, and it must get action. + +"There, that will do it," Imogene nodded sagely. They were sitting +side by side, their heads close together, studying the final draft of +the appeal. The night wind blew a strand of her hair against his face, +and for a moment he forgot the desert, forgot the fight, forgot the +telegram, and saw only her. Then he shook himself free from the spell. +He must save the girl and himself before he dared speak. + +Imogene roused up her father, and had him sign the message. And an +hour later by a combination of bribes, threats, and pleadings Bob got a +sleepy operator to reopen the telegraph office and speed the message to +Washington. + +At five o'clock the next day the reply came. Bob signed for it, and +his fingers shook as he tore it open. + + +DEAR THEO: + +State Department instructing consul by wire to take any action +necessary to protect American ranchers. + +W. + + +By eleven o'clock that night he got a message from the consul; and +thirty minutes later Bob was speeding toward Tia Juana, a hundred and +fifty miles west, to see the Mexican governor. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +Early next morning Rogeen got an interview with the executive of the +Mexican province, whom he had never met. The governor received him +most courteously and manifested both alert intelligence and a spirit of +fairness. During that long night ride Bob had thought out most +carefully his exact line of appeal. + +"Your Excellency," he said, earnestly, "wishes, of course, for the +fullest development of the Imperial Valley in Mexico. To that end the +ranchers must know they have full protection, not alone for their lives +as they now have, but also for their crops. They must know it is +profitable to farm in Mexico. I, myself, have five thousand acres of +cotton, which will pay in export duties alone perhaps $25,000. Next +year I wish to grow much more. Besides, I'm the agent for a very rich +man who lends hundreds of thousands of dollars to other ranchers in +your province. + +"But this can continue only if those who do business on your side of +the line obey the laws and pay their debts. Such men as Reedy Jenkins +must be compelled to deal honestly or get out." + +The governor agreed to what Rogeen said, and promised to take prompt +action. + +"But," insisted Bob, "to save us, it must be done quickly. Jenkins' +cotton must be seized and held for his debts, and the water turned into +the canals at once." + +This was also promised as soon as legal papers could be prepared. In +leaving the office Bob dropped the telegram from the consul, +accidentally. + +"It apparently will not be needed," he said to himself as he left the +office, "but it won't hurt to lose it." + +The telegram left in the office read: + + +Present your situation to the governor, and if immediate relief is not +given I'll close the border within twenty-four hours so tight that not +a man, a mule, nor a machine can cross it either way. + +LANIER, _Consul._ + + +Two hours later a secretary who spoke good English and a Mexican +captain appeared at the Chinese hotel where Bob was waiting. + +"We have here," the secretary presented Bob with two papers, "an +attachment for Senor Jenkins' cotton and an order that the water must +be turned into the canals at once, and at the old rate. El Capitan and +I will accompany you in the governor's own machine to see these orders +are obeyed." + +Rogeen requested that no message be sent to Mexicali regarding these +attachments, as that would give Reedy a chance to dodge. + +"Can we go back over the Mexican road, and come into the valley round +the Laguna Salada?" Bob asked. Reedy might already be rushing his +cotton on those trucks down to the waiting boat on the Gulf, and by +going this route they would intercept them. + +The road over the mountains was not completed, said the secretary, but +they could have another machine from the valley to meet them, and in +that machine make the circuit as proposed. + +At ten o'clock that night Rogeen, the captain, and the secretary left +the machine and the chauffeur at the top of the mountain grade, and +began the two-mile descent to the ancient bed of the sea--the desert +round the Laguna Salada. + +Bob's satisfaction at winning the governor was more than overbalanced +by the torturing fear that it would all be too late. He believed they +would be in time to stop Reedy from getting away with his four hundred +thousand dollars' worth of cotton. Jenkins would not start until he +had lost hope of getting that $150,000 from the ranchers for water. +But Bob feared he was already too late to save his own cotton and +Chandler's. + +The point on the mountain where they left the machine was almost a mile +high. The descent to the valley was by a steep and precarious trail. +The captain who was familiar with it took the lead. + +It was twelve-thirty when they reached the road at the bottom which led +to Mexicali. The machine was not there. + +"What do you suppose is the matter?" Bob's voice sounded surprisingly +cool but a little flat, even to himself. Although the hot winds struck +them here, his skin felt clammily cold. + +"He'll be here by and by." The secretary lighted a cigarette. He did +not share Bob's anxiety and felt no undue fret over a little delay. "I +telegraphed the _comandante_ to send driver and car here about +midnight. He'll be here before long," he reassured. For an hour Bob +walked back and forth peering at every turn far into the desert, +listening until his ears ached. But no sight of car, no sound of +puffing engine. Another hour passed, and another. His anxiety +increased until the delay seemed unbearable. + +They waited nine hours. At last they saw the black bug of a machine +crawling snortingly across the twenty-mile strip of sand between them +and the pass through the Cocopa Mountains. + +At nine-thirty the car arrived, a powerful machine of expensive make. +The chauffeur was a slender, yellowish young Mexican who delighted in +taking dangerous curves at fifty miles an hour and who savagely +thrilled at the terrific punishment his car could take and still go. + +Through the secretary Bob told him of the plan to skirt the Laguna +Salada and go south round the Cocopas instead of going through the +pass. This way they would follow the ancient bed of the Gulf of +California and forty miles south turn across the desert of the Lower +Colorado, thence northeastward until they struck the trail along the +river. By this route they could reach the Red Butte, the head of the +Dillenbeck canal, almost as quickly as through the pass and by +Mexicali, while at the same time they would follow for thirty miles up +the river trail down which Jenkins' trucks must pass on the way to the +head of the Gulf. + +"Do you think we can do it?" Bob asked the chauffeur. + +The chap lighted a cigarette, shrugged, and replied they could do any +damn thing. + +"Let's be doing it then," urged Bob, jumping into the luxurious car. + +The Laguna Salada is a dead lake made from the overflow of the Colorado +River and salted by the ancient bed of the sea. There is no vegetation +round it, no life upon it. Along the salty, sandy shore that glitters +in the sun there is no road, no broken trail. But the reckless +chauffeur hit the sand with the exultant fierceness of a bull fighter. +And at every lunge Bob clung to the iron bar overhead and devoutly +prayed that the machine would live through it. + +It did. At one o'clock they swung round the headlands into the main +desert--the worst of its size on the continent, the desert of the Lower +Colorado. + +As far as the eye could see stretched the dead waste, so dead that not +a mesquite bush, not a cactus, not a living thing grew or crawled or +flew. And upon it smote the sun so hot it seemed a flame, and over it +boiled a wind like the breath of a volcano. + +It staggered even the four men, used as they were to the heat of the +valley. But it was only forty miles to the river. + +"Pretty damn bad," the chauffeur muttered in Spanish, and shrugged. +Then he turned the nose of his machine northeast, and straight across +the hard-packed sand shot into the blistering desert. + +"Two miles, four miles, six----" Bob counted off, watching the +speedometer. Every mile took him nearer the road, the water gates--and +Reedy Jenkins. + +"Eight--nine----" he continued. Then a terrific roar; the machine +staggered; the chauffeur swore and applied the brakes. + +They all jumped out. It was the right hind tire--a hole blown through +it ten inches long. The chauffeur kicked it two or three times, +lighted a cigarette, and stood looking at the burst tire. Finally he +shrugged and glanced across the desert. The wind was blowing hard; +there was sand in it. He shrugged and sauntered round to the front of +the car, got out his jack and wrenches, took the wheel off, prowled +round a quarter of an hour, then lighted another cigarette, again stood +looking at the burst tire, and kicked it a few times as though trying +to make it wake up and mend itself. + +"What is the matter?" asked Bob. He had been afraid to ask. + +"He says," interpreted the secretary, "he has no inner tube. Forgot to +bring any." + +"Then he'll have to run on the rim," said Bob, desperately; "we've got +to get out of this." + +But the secretary nodded toward the radiator which roared as though +about to blow up. + +"Where is his water?" Rogeen felt more than the heat surging through +his head. + +The chauffeur sauntered round the car twice as though looking for it. + +"Says," explained the secretary, "he had a can but must have lost it." + +They tried running on the rim, without water and with the hot wind +blowing the same direction they were going. The machine lasted four +miles, and then quit in the middle of a sand drift, with the most +infernal finality in its death surge. + +Bob got out and looked at the stalled car hopelessly. The boiling wind +surged over the hot dust and smote him witheringly. The driven sand +almost suffocated him. It was twenty-five miles at least to the river, +twenty more to possible assistance. He looked at his watch--it was +five minutes after one. Six hours before the sun would set, and until +then walking would be suicide. + +He climbed back into the machine, and sank limply into the shaded +corner of the seat. Six hours of this--it would be torture; and there +would be one long night of walking to reach water; another day of +waiting for night--without food--and again a long, staggering walk +before they reached a human habitation. + +Two days and nights of delay--then it would be too late! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +There are times when torture of the body heals the suffering of the +mind, and times when mental agony blots out physical pain. But there +are other times when the two run together. It was so with Bob as they +toiled doggedly through that long night across the desert toward the +river. He kept his course by the North Star, and lost little distance +by getting off the compass. It was just daylight when they reached the +river. The stream was bank full--midsummer is high water for the +Colorado--and was very muddy. But its water was more beautiful than +jasper seas to those four men. + +After they had drunk and cooled themselves in it, they crawled under a +clump of willows beside the road to rest through the day. Bob had just +stretched out on his back and covered his face with a handkerchief, +ready to sleep, when a chuck-chuck and a grinding noise came down the +road. He was up instantly, and so were the three Mexicans. + +"A machine!" they exclaimed. Relief! They would not have to walk that +other twenty miles. + +The deep chug of the engine indicated a powerful machine pulling +heavily. It was coming rather slowly. The road was hidden by miles of +rank wild hemp; but directly the machine came round a curve. + +It was a motor truck loaded high with cotton bales! + +Bob's heart beat quick. They were in time to save at least part of it, +after all. + +The captain bristled. Here was work to do, authority to display. He +stepped into the middle of the road, put his hand on his gun, and gave +a ringing call to halt. + +The Mexican driver came to a sudden stop. He knew _el capitan_. And +whatever faults may be attributed to the governor of Baja California, +all admits he is a governor. When he speaks in person or by messenger +there is never any hesitancy about obedience. + +The captain read his orders to the chauffeur and commanded him to turn +round. The four climbed on, and the truck started back. + +The driver told them that only two trucks had gone on ahead; sixteen +were behind, with Senor Jenkins on the last, and each truck carried +twenty bales of cotton. + +They stopped the next truck when they met it, and then waited until all +seventeen were backed up the road. + +Reedy Jenkins leaped from the rear one, nervous and violent of temper, +swore, and hurried forward to see what was the trouble. To his +unutterable wrath he saw the end truck headed about. + +"What the hell! you damned greasers." But then he quit. Something was +wrong here. He strode forward angrily. + +"Rogeen, get off that truck and do it damn quick." + +"I'm getting off," said Bob. With a quick leap he landed in the road +and went straight for Reedy. The secretary and the captain followed. + +"I have a writ of attachment here," said Bob, bringing out the paper +issued by the governor, "for your cotton in favour of Ah Sing. I have +further orders from the governor to deliver the cotton to the compress +on the American side and sell it in the open market. + +"Captain," Bob turned to the officer, "order the drivers to turn back. +You ride on the front one with the driver, and I'll ride on the back +one with my kind friend Senor Jenkins." + + +That night after Bob Rogeen had left her with the telegram Imogene +Chandler was too wrought up to sleep. And the longer she thought of +it, the more determined she became to take action herself. She had +some faith that the telegram would bring results, but not much faith +that those results would come in time to save their crop. While Bob +was riding through the days and nights, fighting for them, she and the +other ranchers were doing nothing but watch their cotton burn for water. + +About eleven o'clock Imogene went to the corral and bridled and saddled +a horse. With the bridle reins in her left hand and her revolver in +her right, she galloped off north toward Rogeen's ranch to consult Noah +Ezekiel. + +A mile up the road she met Noah riding south. + +"What's the matter? Your dad not sick?" He was much astonished to see +her riding out at this time of night. + +"No," replied the girl, "it is our cotton that is sick. And I'm going +after a doctor. Noah, I want you to go with me and show me where those +water gates are. I'm going to have water or fight. They wouldn't +shoot a woman." + +"Oh, wouldn't they?" said Noah. "That shows how naturally scarce of +information you are. + +"No," said the hill billy determinedly but with a current of tenderness +in his tone, "you ain't goin' to the water gates; you are goin' back to +your ranch. You are just naturally sweet enough to gentle a horse, but +you ain't cut out to fight Mexicans." + +She had turned her horse round and was riding beside him back toward +her ranch. + +"Now, listen here," said Noah as he saw signs of rebellion in the swing +of her body and the grip on her revolver, "you go home and get your dad +and your Chinaman ready. There's goin' to be water in them ditches +before daylight or there will be one less hill billy in this vale of +tears." + +During these fervid days Noah Ezekiel had not been asleep, although +much of the time he looked as though he were on the verge of it. He +had had his eye on both ranches--the Chandlers' and the Red Butte. +Twice he had cautiously reconnoitred the full length of the water +ditches. + +At a point on the Valley Irrigation Company's big canal, about seven +miles below the intake from the Colorado River, two diverting ditches +branched off; the larger of these furnished the main water supply of +the Mexican side of the valley, the smaller was the Dillenbeck system. + +At these gates the Valley Company kept water keepers and guards day and +night. As the Dillenbeck Company were merely private consumers, water +was turned into this canal only on their orders, and charged for by the +thousand feet. + +Four miles below where this canal began to branch to the various +ranches it supplied was the Dillenbeck water station. It was the +keeper in charge here who ordered water from the main canal and who +opened the sluice gates and apportioned it to the various ranches. + +Noah Ezekiel on his reconnoitring discovered two things: The night +water keeper had been reenforced by a Mexican guard; and besides +Madrigal, the Mexican Jew, usually spent the night with these two. +Expecting trouble, a company of twenty Mexican special guards was +camped a quarter of a mile down the canal, in easy calling distance. +These guards, while authorized by the comandante, were hired and paid +by Reedy Jenkins. It was their duty to patrol the canal above and +below by the main water gates and be ready at all times to repulse any +threatened attack. + +Noah Ezekiel had been approached several times by infuriated ranchers +with suggestions that they organize a mob. But American ranchers were +too few and unpopular to make mobs highly hopeful. An attack on these +guards would bring on a conflict with the whole Mexican garrison at +Mexicali, consisting of several hundred well-trained troops. Noah +Ezekiel advised strongly against this. Noah was opposed to strife of +any kind. But he had been doing a little plotting of his own. + +He knew the Red Owl employed a number of boosters for the games--men +who went from table to table and gambled with the house's money. The +psychology of gambling is like the psychology of anything else--the +livelier the game the more there are who want to get into it. The job +of the booster is to stimulate business by gambling freely himself. +These boosters are paid four dollars a day; and the ordinary Mexican, +if given his choice between being secretary of state and a booster at +the Red Owl, would pick the Owl every time. + +After a reasonable wait to see if water was coming in by the due +process of law and growing doubtful about it, Noah Ezekiel had begun +carefully laying plans. + +That morning he had gone to the Red Owl and had a secret session with +Jack the Ace of Diamonds, one of the game keepers. Jack and the hill +billy had become good friends, and Jack was more than willing to +accommodate a friend. + +"Now, Ace," said Noah, "the idea is like this: This afternoon you send +a Mexican out to that camp on the Dillenbeck canal with the information +that the Owl wants to hire about eleven good boosters to begin work at +twelve o'clock to-night; and have the messenger casually but secretly +give each of them a slip of paper that is dead sure to get him one of +the jobs. + +"And," Noah grinned, "you give every one of 'em that applies a job for +two days--as a treat on me. You can fix it with the boss." + +"Sure," grinned Jack, "I'll fix it." And a Mexican messenger had been +dispatched on the spot. + +Noah sat at the ranch shack as dark came on and counted them as they +went by down the road. As he guessed, the officer would get away +first, and the rest begin to drop away from camp one or two at a time +soon after dark. By eleven o'clock he had counted seventeen: and then +Noah saddled his horse. When he had met Imogene, he had thought she +was another Mexican, but he was not alarmed at one or even three. + +A little before one o'clock Noah tied his horse to a cottonwood tree a +half mile below the Dillenbeck water gates. + +He skirted through the fields round the deserted guard camp. His +caution was not necessary, not a Mexican soldier was left. He grinned +to think of the boosters about now in the Red Owl. Two hundred yards +from the little open shack that served as office and home for the water +keeper Noah took off his shoes and left his hat, and slipped toward the +light. In his hands, muzzle forward, was the double-barrelled +shotgun--the riot gun sure to hit its mark at close range that Bob had +got for him with which to guard the Chandler ranch. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +Noah, bent low, slipped forward in utter silence--more silence than +necessary. The American water keeper, Madrigal, and the Mexican guard +were too profoundly busy with a crap game on the floor under the +lantern to be disturbed by the mere breaking of a twig. + +But all at once from out the night came a drawling voice: + +"Brethren, let's raise our hands." Three pairs of eyes leaped up from +the dice and looked into the muzzle of the most vicious shotgun they +had ever seen--not ten feet away. Six hands went up without a word. + +"Stand up," was the next drawling command. "Turn your backs." Noah +flung two small ropes at their feet. + +"You," he ordered Madrigal, "tie the Mex's hands behind him--and stand +him over by the wall." + +"Whitey," he ordered the water keeper when that was done, "tie the +Hebrew's hands and feet and set him down over by the wall, facing this +way. + +"Now," Noah again commanded the water keeper, "go to the telephone and +order the water turned in. Tell 'em we are dry--that all the trouble +is settled, and to shoot the water down banks full, right away, quick." + +The water keeper was shaking as though with the ague. He knew danger +when he saw it and he was perfectly sure he saw it. + +He went to the telephone and called the keeper at the Valley Irrigation +Company's office. As he started to speak Madrigal stirred on the floor +as though trying to get up. + +Still keeping the water keeper covered with the shotgun, Noah looked +round at Madrigal and drawled: + +"If I was you, Hebrew, I'd keep sayin' over that parable which reads: +'Once there was a Mexican who was shot in the stomach with half a pint +of buckshot; and in hell he lifted up his eyes and said, "Father +Abraham, send me a drop of water." And Father Abraham says, "Not a +drop. Ain't you the man that helped burn up the Imperial Valley? +Hell's too good for you, but it's all we've got."'" + +The telephone message was given. + +"It sounded all right," said Noah to the water keeper. "Sit down over +there and be comfortable, while we wait and see; and keep your eye on +the muzzle of the gun. It is the only way to keep it from smokin'." + +Forty minutes passed. Noah's eyes were on his prisoners, but his ears +kept listening. Fifty minutes, then he heard a loud woosh--almost a +roar. The water was coming! + +"Now let's go out and open up all gates," ordered Noah. The water +keeper obeyed. + +"For the time being," drawled Noah, "you can lie down out there in the +open beside the canal and take a nap. Shootin' craps has been sort of +hard on your nerves. I'll look after the water for a spell." + + +About nine o'clock at night Imogene Chandler came in from the cotton +field. + +Out there in the dim starlight stretched the long rows of cotton, +erect, green, luxuriant. The water had come in time. It had flowed +into their ditches at four o'clock the morning after Noah Ezekiel +passed. They had been ready for it. For three days it had flowed +abundantly, and all their fields were watered. + +Imogene lifted her face to the wind. She loved the desert again. And +yet there was restlessness in her movements; even in the stillness her +ears strained to catch some other sound than the soft rustle of the +wind. + +Nothing had happened to him of course or she would have heard. But she +had watched for him that first night after the water was turned in; the +next night she was expecting him, and last night she felt sure he would +come. If he did not come tonight---- Maybe something had happened, +maybe he had been shot by some of Jenkins' hired assassins? Fear, +which really had been hovering about for three days, but put off by her +faith in Bob's utter competence to take care of himself, swooped down +on her suddenly. Her throat grew dry, her heart beat like a frightened +bird's, she whirled and started to run for the house. She would start +in search at once. + +Then came the sound that her ears had been straining for--the chuck, +chuck of his little machine. + +She dropped down on the bench under the arrowwood shelter and let +herself go. But the sobs were over, her eyes dry, her lips smiling, as +he came across the yard in the dusk with a dark bulk under his arms. + +He had brought his fiddle. She did not stir from the bench. She felt +utterly, blissfully relaxed. Her arm lay loosely along the back of the +bench, her head dropped slightly forward, the wind still stirring her +hair. + +"Hello." That was her only greeting. But the tone of it went through +him like a soft breath of wind in the woods following a lull in the +storm. + +"Hello," and that was his only reply as he sat down on the bench beside +her, the fiddle across his knees. + +Her arm lying lazily along the back of the bench was almost touching +him; but he had not noticed it, and she left it there. + +"I don't hardly know where to begin," Bob said directly, and laughed to +try to cover up his emotions. He knew that no matter where he began he +never could put in words the horror of the night when the ghost of +utter defeat and failure walked with him over that terrible desert; nor +yet the great upsweep of triumph that engulfed him when he reached the +water gates the next day and learned that Noah Ezekiel and a +double-barrelled shotgun had saved the crops three days before--his and +all the rest. + +To feel one moment that he was in debt for life, beaten and wrecked, +and the next to know he would be worth in three months at least a +hundred thousand dollars! No, he could not put that in words; so he +merely twanged softly the violin strings with his thumb, and remarked +casually: + +"Well, I got the money." + +"What money?" Still the girl did not stir. She was so blissfully +lethargic, and she was not thinking at all of money or cotton. + +"For poor old Ah Sing, and for Jim Crill. I seized Reedy's cotton this +morning and sold it this afternoon. Got $410,000 for the cotton and +the seed. But Jenkins was in deeper than we knew. He's gambled away +fifty thousand or so. After I'd paid up all his debts, including the +duty, there was only $25,000 left for Reedy. And Mrs. Barnett came +down on me like a squawking hen, demanding that. Said Reedy had +promised it to her for getting the loans from her uncle. But Reedy +denied it." + +"What did you do?" asked Imogene as he paused. "I compromised--told +Reedy I was entitled to that much for commission and damages, but that +I'd give it to him provided he and Mrs. Barnett married. They did." + +Imogene laughed, a rich warm laugh in which there was no sting of +revenge, only humour for human faults. This was such a good world, and +such a beautiful desert! + +Bob did not think of anything more to tell of his exploits. Somehow +his mind would not stay on them. Instead, he looked up at the stars +and sighed with deep content, then put the fiddle to his shoulder and +raised the bow. + +When he finished he turned to look down at her, and in that moment felt +the touch of her arm at his back. She was very still; he was not sure +whether she was crying or smiling. + +"Do you know what it said?" he asked, huskily. + +"Y-e-s," she answered, softly, "but I want to hear it in words, too." + +He slipped his arm round her and drew her to him. "You wonderful +darling," he said, kissing her, "you'll hear it a million times in +words." + + + + +THE END + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Desert Fiddler, by William H. 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