A California Girl. Edward Henry Eldridge
reading matter on the table was the sensational weekly papers.
"I remember one Sunday to my surprise I saw one of the men reading a book. On looking at the title, it read: 'The Life of Rattlesnake Pete,' and another man had a book lying on his blankets, entitled 'The Adventures of Coyote Bill.' Gambling was their favorite pastime. It was one round of card playing nights and Sundays. When I first went to work on the Lonsdale ranch, the boss put me to cutting oak wood. After I had been at work awhile, he came along and told me that I did not hold the handle of my axe right. The next day he found fault with me for the way I used a cross-cut saw. A week later I was piling brush to burn, and the way I laid the brush did not suit him. He was everlastingly blowing about himself and telling how he did things. I did not seem to be able to do anything right. One night after supper we had all assembled in the bunk-house, when Parsons said: 'I tell you boys, hell went pop this morning. Plaisted gave the boss hell because he commenced to growl at him for the way he held the lines. Plaisted told him he was the greatest old crank that ever run a ranch, and that the devil himself couldn't suit him. He left the team right in the field and called for his money. I tell you the boss's face was as red as a beet. He had to give Simmons six dollars a month more to take the team.'
"Hendricks said, 'I gave the boss a piece of my mind this morning when I tried to open the gate leading into the garden. It is a rod long, and as heavy as hell; the whole weight was on the ground. I told him any man that had such a gate as that on his ranch never ought to own a ranch. I said, 'Why in the devil don't you get some hinges and hang your gates?' Ambrose spoke up, and said, 'Sometimes the boss seems pleasant enough, but he does like to find fault and tell you what big things he has done. To hear him talk you would think that his ranch was the only ranch that was worth anything. He told his visitors to-day that his place would pay the interest on one hundred thousand dollars. You know, boys, it wouldn't sell for twelve thousand.'
"Parsons said: 'The boss has been growling at me ever since I have been with him, but I pay no attention to him. He thinks if you don't do a thing as he does, you don't do it right, and any idea that does not originate in his brain is not worth anything. To hear him talking to that lady visiting here to-day you would think he was a perfect man living on a model ranch.' I will never forget how mad Hendricks was with the boss one Saturday evening. We had just come from supper when Hendricks lit his pipe and gave vent to his feelings, as follows: 'If I had had a four-year-old club at the supper table to-night, I felt so boiling mad that I would have knocked hell out of him. To hear him go on a nagging and fault-finding with that little woman of his. There she has been a-working hard all day, set three good meals, doing the churning and all the housework besides; and all she gets for her patient labor is a growl.' 'Yes,' said another man, 'she has been working like a slave all the week and to-morrow is Sunday, and it will be to her just the same as any other day.' Hendricks said: 'The boss thinks more of his old plugs than he does of his wife. See what care he takes of his horses. One lot is resting while the other lot is working; then those that have been working are put in the pasture, and those that have been resting are put to work. But he never seems to think that poor worn-out woman of his needs a rest and change.'
"Parsons added: 'That is not the worst of it. His wife is a cook-stove slave, and a wash and butter-making machine. It does not matter how tired she is or otherwise physically unfit, he demands his marital privileges as a right, regardless of her wishes or protests. I know it is a fact, for he brags about it.' Parsons continued: 'When a boy I used to hear preachers talk about hell, and I could not see what was the use of sending millions and billions of people to eternal torments, so I thought there ought to be no such place as hell; but if there is a hell, then I think the boss deserves to go there.'
"An intelligent young man from the East by the name of Travers joined in the conversation by saying: 'When I was a boy I remember how serious my good father felt because he thought a neighbor had died without his sins being forgiven, and had gone to hell. At that time the word hell used to have some meaning on the minds of the people, and produced on my mind a feeling of fear and awe. But how different it is now. If a minister was to preach now about all wicked people going to hell, it would produce no more effect on their minds than water on a duck's back, for the word hell is now a spent thunderbolt, used uselessly by the mouths of so many. It may be well for theologians to know (if any of them believe in hell as preached) whether or not they have got through discussing hell; their views have no weight whatever on the minds of the masses, for they are all the time making light, fun, and sport of the word hell.' 'That's so,' joined in the men, and they all laughed.
"I had been at the Lonsdale ranch about three or four months when I received your letter asking me to return home."
"Well, Charles," said the old man Herne, "if I had not worked out for several years on ranches, I should think your stories slightly colored, but from my own experience I should say the half has not been told."
"That is so, father," said Charles. "I have not stated what I have seen and heard half strongly enough."
The father said: "When I bought this ranch, the first thing I did was to build solid fences, raise lots of feed and hang gates on hinges so that a child could open them with its finger. I always make my plans so that I have more feed than stock. I did not set out an orchard till the fences were finished, so that nothing could get in. I made it a point to avoid losing a lot of work through bad management. My hired men have always had a good house to sleep in, each man having a room to himself. The house is cool in the summer through having double porches all round it, and warm in winter because it is well furnished. Men and teams never go out to work in the winter till the sun is up. Every man sits down to supper at six, during the summer months, and they have two hours' nooning. What is the result? I have always had the best men to work for me, and they never want to leave. Each man is put upon his honor, and takes as much interest in doing his best for me as if the place belonged to him. Everything goes on the same at the ranch when I am away as when I am there. No man has used anything but the most respectful language to me. I have heard no swearing at teams. In fact, I have heard no swearing or low stories at all. I never would allow it. Every day the work is done well and without friction."
"Yes," said his son, "I used to think your place was heaven while I was away."
Two years from the time this conversation took place, the father died, leaving the property and some money to his son, Charles, and seven thousand dollars to his daughter Lena.
Charles Herne was not a student of political economy nor a reader of sociology, but what he did was done through an innate sense of justice, with a spirit of generosity, and the munificent treatment of his men was the manifestation of his noble, free spirit. To-morrow will be the greatest event so far in the life of Charles Herne, for he brings to his home his bride.
CHAPTER III.
THE MARRIAGE OF CHARLES HERNE.
Two miles from the Herne ranch, toward Roseland, lived the Holbrooke family.
On the afternoon of the day which was of such importance in the lives of two of our characters, Mr. Holbrooke returned from a survey of his orchard, to be met by his wife with a face full of mysterious importance.
"I've got some news, James," she said. "Now guess what it is—
"Sophia has heard from one of her old beaux," said her husband immediately.
"Get a pail of water and throw it over your dad, Sophia," said Mrs. Holbrooke. "He's always joking you about your beaux. Well," she added, "I see I'll have to tell you, you'll never guess. Charles Herne has just gone by here with a bran-new suit of clothes, a bran-new matched team, a bran-new harness, a bran-new buggy, and a bran-new wife. There! What do you think of that?"
"Why," said her husband, "I think you may see them go by here some day with a brand-new baby."
"The idea of your talking that way before Sophia; that's the way with you men, your mind is always run on such things."
"Well,"