Harding of Allenwood. Bindloss Harold
is nothing more to be said."
He rode away and Harding started his oxen. It might have been more prudent to make a few concessions and conciliate the Colonel, but Harding could not bring himself to do so. It seemed a shabby course. It was better that the Allenwood settlers should know at the beginning how matters stood and of what type their new neighbor was.
From all that Harding had learned of Colonel Mowbray, he felt that this stretch of grassland would not be turned into a glowing sea of wheat without more than one conflict between himself and the head of Allenwood.
CHAPTER V
THE SPENDTHRIFT
Kenwyne felt pleasantly languid as he lounged in a basket-chair after his evening meal. He had been back-setting land since daybreak. Holding the plow was an occupation almost unknown to the Allenwood settlers, who left all the rougher work to their hired men. Kenwyne, however, was of a practical turn of mind; and, having invested all his money in his farm, he meant to get some return. He occasionally enjoyed a run with the coyote hounds, or a day's shooting when the migrating geese and ducks rested among the sloos; but for the most part he stuck steadily to his work and, as he bought the latest implements, he was considered richer than he really was. Though thirty, he was unmarried; an elderly Scottish housekeeper looked after him.
One of the obstacles to Allenwood's progress was that the bachelors outnumbered the married men; and the difficulty seemed insuperable. The settlers belonged to an exclusive caste, and few young Englishwomen of education and refinement had shown themselves willing to face the hardships of the prairie life; though these were softened at Allenwood by many of the amenities of civilization. Moreover, it was known to the rasher youths, who occasionally felt tempted by the good looks of the daughters of the soil, that Colonel Mowbray sternly discountenanced anything of the nature of a mésalliance, and that the married women would deal even more strictly with the offenders. Broadwood, for example, had broken the settlement's traditions, and he and his Canadian wife had suffered.
While Kenwyne was reading an old newspaper, Gerald Mowbray sauntered in. He had a careless, genial manner that made him a favorite, but there was a hint of weakness in his face, and Kenwyne had never trusted him. It was known that he had been wild and extravagant; but at Allenwood that was not generally regarded as a grave drawback. They were charitable there; several of the younger men, who now made good settlers, had left England at their relatives' urgent request, after gaining undesirable notoriety.
Gerald selected a comfortable chair and passed his cigar-case to Kenwyne.
"They're good," he said. "I had them sent from Montreal."
"No, thanks," replied Kenwyne. "I've given up such extravagances, and stick to the labeled plug. I don't want to be officious, but it might be better if you did the same."
Gerald smiled.
"You're rather a sordid beggar, Ralph; but as that's often a sign of prosperity, it makes me hopeful. I want you to lend me two hundred pounds."
"Impossible!" said Kenwyne firmly.
"One hundred and fifty, then?"
"Equally out of the question. All I have is sunk in stock, and earmarked for next year's operations." Kenwyne paused and considered. He knew the chances were slight that the money would ever be returned; yet he respected Colonel Mowbray, and his loyalty extended to the family of the head of Allenwood. "Why do you want the money?" he asked.
"I suppose I'll have to tell you. It goes back to India – what you might call a 'debt of honor.' I borrowed the money in London to square it; and thought when I came to Canada I'd be too far away for the London fellow to put undue pressure on me. Oh, I meant to pay sometime, when I was ready; but the fellow transferred the debt to a man at Winnipeg, who has sent me a curt demand with an extortionate bill of expenses. Now I have to pay."
"I suppose you have been round the settlement?"
"Yes; but I haven't collected much. In fact, I'm afraid I'll have to pledge my farm."
"You can't do that. Our foundation covenant forbids a settler to alienate his land without the consent of a majority in the council, subject to the president's veto. Your father would certainly use his veto."
"Very true," Gerald agreed. "However, I don't propose to alienate my land – only to pawn it for a time."
"It's against the spirit of the deed."
"I've nothing to do with its spirit. The covenant should say what it means, and it merely states that a settler shall not sell to any person who's not a member of the colony. I'm not going to sell."
"You're going to do a dangerous thing," Kenwyne warned him.
"Then the remedy is for you to let me have a thousand dollars," Gerald said quickly.
"It is impossible; but I will try to raise five hundred. I suppose the Colonel does not know you have come to me?"
"I rely upon your not letting him know." Gerald smiled in that ingratiating way that won him many friends. "I'm deeply grateful, and you're a good sort, Ralph, though in some ways you differ from the rest of us. I don't know where you got your tradesman's spirit."
"It won't be so singular before long," Kenwyne answered with dry amusement. "Even now, Broadwood and one or two others – "
"Broadwood doesn't count. He married a girl of the soil."
"He loves her, and she makes him a good wife."
"Yes, but it was a mistake. You know our traditions."
Kenwyne laughed, and nodded toward the open window, through which they heard the sound of cheerful whistling approaching them along the trail.
"I suspect that's Broadwood now," he said.
"Well, I must be going. I will call for the check to-morrow."
Gerald left as Broadwood entered.
"I can guess what he wanted. He was at my place," Broadwood said, as he took the seat Gerald had vacated.
"Ah! I'll wager he didn't go away empty-handed," Kenwyne smiled.
"Perhaps I'm betraying a confidence in admitting it. Anyway, I felt that one ought to help him for the family's sake, lest he get into worse trouble; and I could afford the loan. Since I married I've been making some money. But I want to ask you about this Harding. What kind of fellow is he?"
"I like what I've seen of him. Why?"
"Effie has been talking about his sister. Seemed to think it was unkind to leave the girl alone – in want, perhaps, of odds and ends a woman could supply. I think she has made up her mind to go see her."
"I'm not sure that would meet with general approval. What did you say?"
"I seldom give my opinion on these matters," Broadwood answered with a laugh. "On the whole, I think Effie's right; and I suspect that knowing the thing won't please the others gives it a charm. After all, she hasn't much reason for respecting their prejudices. At first, they nearly drove us out of Allenwood."
"I'm glad you didn't go. Your wife is steadily gaining ground, and the others will be glad to copy her after a while."
"That's my idea; we'll have to work our land. Have you ever thought what the Colonel could do with his big block, if he had the capital?"
"And the wish!" said Kenwyne. "The obstacle is his point of view. Besides, all of it isn't really his: Mrs. Mowbray, Beatrice, and the boys have a share. Of course, his taking the lots as one gives him a solid vote in the council, and with the veto he has on certain points makes him an absolute ruler."
"So long as his family support him!"
"Can you imagine their doing the contrary?"
"I've thought the Colonel's position was least secure from an attack within," Broadwood answered thoughtfully. "It doesn't follow that a man's family is bound to agree with him. Gerald's a dark horse, and one can't predict what he'll do, except that it will be what suits himself. Lance is young and headstrong; and Beatrice has a mind of her own… But I really came to ask your opinion about this sketch of a new stable. I must buy another