CHAPTER XXII

EARNING THEIR PASSAGE

It did not take Abner long to get dinner ready, for Mrs. Andrews had left the table set and food near at hand. The men talked as they ate, and there was none of their usual bantering, for the subject of conversation was a serious one. Abner was worried about his trial, which he knew would not be postponed much longer. He was also troubled over the extra mouths he had to feed, and he unburdened his mind to his companion. He laid aside his mask of light-heartedness and indifference, and the expression upon his face touched his neighbor's heart.

"I'm really hard up, Zeb," he explained, "an' I don't know where the next barrel of flour is to come from. This place doesn't raise much, as ye know, an' what little I had saved up from sellin' the Flyin' Scud went fer Jess' eddication at the Seminary. If I turn them kids away, what is to become of 'em? An', besides, I'll be the laffln'-stock of all the fools in the country. Then, there is that trial. How in the world am I goin' to pay a lawyer? Why, it'll take my place."

Abner's head was bowed as he finished, and he sat bent over the table.

"Come, come, man, don't git too down-hearted," Zeb encouraged, rising from the table. "Ye'r not ready fer the Poor House yit. Let's go out under the shade of that big tree at the back of the house an' have a smoke."

Abner rose and pulled out his pipe.

"I must git that hay in, Zeb," he remarked. "It's been out too long already. I turned it out of cock this mornin', an' it's in fine condition now."

"Oh, I guess it won't hurt fer another hour, Abner. A smoke is allus good after dinner before ye go to work. Come on."

For half an hour they sat in the cool shade of the tree, and when at last Zeb went home Abner was feeling much better and more like himself. He harnessed Jerry, and was just hitching him to the waggon when an auto stopped before the house. A young man alighted, and walked at once into the yard. Abner recognized him as the surveyor he had threatened to shoot some time before, and he wondered what he could want now.

But Thane Royden seemed to have forgotten all about that incident, for he shook Abner heartily by the hand, and enquired after the family. When he learned that they were all on the island he was much disappointed.

"That is too bad," he remarked. "I'm leaving town in a few days and wish to say good-bye."

Abner now remembered that it was this young man who had driven Jess home from the party, and surmised that it was she he was most anxious to see.

"Is there any way I can get over there?" Royden asked, as he looked off toward the island.

"I s'pose ye could swim," Abner replied, "but that wouldn't be very comfortable. If ye wait till I git that hay in I'll run ye over in the canoe. I'm to have supper with them, ye see. I would take ye in my little yacht, but she's layin' above the Pint, an' it 'ud take too long to bring her around."

"That will be fine," the surveyor replied. "Let me help with the hay, and we can soon get through."

"Did ye ever pitch hay?"

"I was brought up on a farm, and should know something about it."

"Sure, ye ought. Come on. There's a fork leanin' aginst the barn. Ye kin pitch on, if ye don't mind."

Abner liked this young man, and the skilful manner in which he worked won his heartiest approval. They became very friendly and talked as they worked.

"So ye'r goin' to leave, are ye?" Abner at length queried. "All through with ye'r work, eh?"

"I'm through with the Government, or rather they're through with me," was the reply. "They've fired me because I spoke my mind very plainly. They wanted me to do dirty work, and when I refused they gave me the G.B."

"They did? Well, that's too bad," was Abner's comment, as he stowed away a forkful of hay which had just been handed up. "Where are ye goin'?"

"I have accepted a good offer with the Morton & Griffin Cement Company, and will begin work with them in a few weeks. It is a far better position, for I shall not have to bother about grafters there. It is a big reliable concern, with fine opportunities for advancement."

"An' so they expected ye to do dirty work, did they?"

"Yes. You have no idea what they wanted me to do. Even in my report of your place here they asked me to say that the gravel was of little value for ballast."

"An' did ye?"

"Certainly not. I told them that it is the best I have ever seen, and so far as I could tell there is almost an unlimited supply."

"Good fer you, young man. I shan't fergit that. Jist fasten up that check-rein, will ye? Jerry'll have all the hay eaten up if we're not keerful."

"Have they been after you yet?" Royden asked, when they had moved to another bunch of hay.

"Oh, yes, they've been after me, all right," and Abner laughed.

"But you haven't sold?"

"Not on ye'r life."

"That's good. Don't let them have anything unless they pay you well."

"But they say they will 'spropriate, whatever that means."

"Yes, they have the power. But they'll not be anxious to do that. There are several in the game. They hope to buy the place from you for a mere song, and then turn it over to the Government for a big figure. Oh, I know their tricks. They've done it before in other ways, such as buying horses and cattle."

"But how kin I git me price?"

"Sit tight, and when necessary go after them with hammer and tongs. Don't be afraid of them, and stand your ground."

The load was now all on, and Abner had just picked up the reins when a young man was seen walking toward them from the house.

"It's Billy Lansing," Royden exclaimed in disgust. "What in the world does the fellow want?"

"Who's Billy Lansing?" Abner asked.

"Why, you ought to know, Mr. Andrews. He's the one who bribed you to put him next to your boss, isn't he?"

"He is! Well, I'll be jiggered! I've never seen him since."

"Neither has he seen you, though he's told that story very often, so I hear."

"He has, eh? An' did anyone put him wise?"

"Not that I know of. He's not liked in town, so people let him tell the story and then laughed at him behind his back. He thinks yet that you're the hired man, so I believe."

"Say, s'pose we let him think so?" Abner suggested in a low voice, for Billy was now quite near. "You jist call me Bob, an' we'll have some fun."

Royden agreed and turned toward Billy.

"Hello, you here!" the latter accosted. "Didn't know you had turned farmer. Where are the girls?"

"What girls?"

"Why, the ones we met at the party, of course."

"I guess you'll have to ask Bob," and Royden motioned to Abner. He had to turn his face away to keep from laughing.

"Say, old top, de ye know where they are?" Billy questioned.

"Hey, what's that?" Abner asked as if he had not heard.

"Are the girls around? They're not in the house."

"Want to see the gals, eh? What gals?"

"Your boss' daughter and that other one. My, she's a peach!"

"Oh, ye mean Jess an' Belle. Well, they was around this mornin', all right, but now I reckon they're anchored over on the island."

"The devil! Say, is there any way I can get over?"

"Got any more ten-spots in ye'r pocket?" Abner asked. "I'll take ye over if ye have."

Billy looked at him in a quizzical manner.

"Say, you haven't earned the money I gave you some time ago," he reminded.

"What money?"

"Don't ye remember? The ten-spot to put me next to the old man."

"Oh yes, I do recollect that ye shoved somethin' into me hand. Well, that money's gone to feed the hungry, an' clothe the naked. It's been put to good use."

"But it hasn't done what it was intended to do though. It was to put me next to your boss, so's I could sell him a car."

"There's lots of time yit to git next to the old feller, so don't worry."

"But he's in jail and likely to be sent further, from all accounts."

"Yes, he's in a pretty bad mess," Abner agreed. "But, there, I must git this hay in. Gid-dap, Jerry."

"Hold on a minute," Billy ordered. "And you won't take me to the island?"

"I didn't say I wouldn't, did I?"

"No, but you wanted ten dollars, though."

"Oh, well, I'll cut it out if you can't afford to pay that much. I'm goin' over, anyway, when I git through with this hay, an' if ye'll give us a hand I'll take ye along."

"Sure, I'll help you," was the ready response.

"Did ye ever do any hayin'?"

"Never did. But there's nothing to learn about it, is there? Just tell me what to do."

"Ye kin mow away. Scoot along an' climb up that ladder, an' stow away fer all ye'r worth."

Abner chuckled to himself as he headed Jerry for the barn. "I was goin' to put this in the empty bay," he mused, "but since I've these two love-sick fellers here I might as well finish that other mow. It ought to hold another load or two with close packin'. Guess Billy'll find it's the hottest place he was ever in. Stiddy, there, Jerry."

With a rush the horse surged the load into the barn, and at once Abner picked up his fork and started to work. Royden was in his place to receive the hay as it was handed up. He understood the work, and found it easy to toss it back to Billy. To the latter, however, it was something new, and the heat of the loft was oppressive. The perspiration poured down his face, and at times he felt that he would smother, as he struggled with the hay, stowing it into every corner, and tramping it down. When at length the hay was unloaded and he climbed down the ladder he was a pitiable sight to behold. His eyes were wild and bloodshot, his face a fiery hue, and steaming wet, while his immaculate clothes were clinging to his body as if he had been plunged into the river.

"Fer heaven's sake! What's the matter with ye?" Abner asked, as Billy dropped into the bottom of the waggon.

The only reply of the exhausted man was a series of moans, as he lay there panting and gasping for breath. Abner backed the horse and waggon out of the barn, and when the cool air fanned Billy's face he began to revive.

"Good Lord!" he ejaculated. "It's hell up there!"

"Thought it was down below, eh?" Abner queried. "Guess hell ain't located in any special place. Ye'll find it most anywhere, even in a hay-mow."

"But what did you put me in a hole like that for?" Billy angrily demanded. "You knew what it was like, didn't you?"

"Why, I gave ye the easiest job, young man," Abner replied. "If ye don't like that, ye kin load or pitch on whichever ye prefer. It's all the same to me."

"To hell with it all. I'm done with haying. I feel sick, anyway."

"Look here," Abner warned, "ye'll feel a darn sight sicker than ye do at present if ye don't stop ye'r swearin'."

"What's that you say? How dare you speak to me an that way? I'll tell your boss on you."

"Tell all ye like. But, there, I've lost enough time with ye already, so trot along."

But Billy did not leave. He followed the team about the field for a few minutes, silent and sulky.

"You'll take me to the island, won't you?" he at length pleaded.

"Sure, I'll take ye, if ye'll hold ye'r tongue an' wait till we git this hay in. Ye'd better go over and set down under that big shady tree. A nap's good fer babies in the afternoon."

Lansing made no reply, but did as Abner had indicated. He sprawled out upon the ground, and spent his time smoking cigarettes.

"I wish Billy would go home," Royden remarked, as he tossed up a forkful of hay.

"H'm, that's not his way, seems to me," Abner replied. "He's lookin' fer the soft spots in life, like too many fellers. He feels more at home layin' there under that tree than standin' up. But he got a dose up in that mow, though."

When at last the hay was all in and Jerry stabled, Billy was on hand, ready to go to the island.

"Feel better now?" Abner asked as they walked to the shore. "Sickness all gone, eh?"

"Sure, I'm tip-top," was the reply.

"Subject to faintin' spells, are ye?"

"I've had them ever since I was a child."

"'Specially when there's work to be done. Ye'r not alone in that. Hop in now," he ordered, when the canoe had been launched.

Abner paddled, while Royden sat in the bottom of the canoe. Billy persisted in sitting well up on the bow, notwithstanding Abner's warning.

"Ye might tumble off there," he told him. "This is not a scow nor an ocean liner ye'r in now, but a cranky canoe, an' ye kin never tell what might happen."

"De ye think I'm a kid?" Billy indignantly asked. "I'm all right here. You get a hustle on, and never mind me."

Abner made no reply, though a peculiar expression appeared in his eyes. He paddled with long steady strokes, and looked straight ahead. It was a beautiful day, and only a gentle ripple ruffled the surface of the river. It took but a few minutes to cross the channel, and then they were in shallow water in the midst of eel-grass, broad water-lily leaves, snags and half-sunken logs.

Billy was deliberately smoking a cigarette, with an air of bored indifference. Suddenly the canoe struck a partly submerged root, which tilted it dangerously to the right. The force of the impact sent Billy backwards, and with a yell of fright he plunged headlong into the water. He was up again in an instant, spluttering and trying to disentangle himself from the eel-grass, which was entwined about his face and neck. The canoe by now was several yards away, and as Billy endeavored to walk, he not only sank ankle deep in the soft, yielding mud, but several times he stumbled and almost fell over a sunken log or root.

"Hello, what are ye doin' out there?" Abner asked in apparent surprise. "Fishin' fer clams? There ain't none there."

"D—n you," was the angry reply. "You know what I'm doing. It was all your fault. You struck that log on purpose."

"What log? Did we strike a log?" and Abner appealed to Royden.

"I didn't see any," was the laughing reply. "But Billy says we did, and he evidently knows from the look of things."

By this time the unfortunate man had struggled to the side of the canoe.

"Be keerful, now, how ye board this craft," Abner warned.

"I've a good mind to dump you both into the water," was the retort.

"Try it on, young man, if ye want to stay down in that mud till ye stop bubblin'."

With considerable difficulty Lansing was helped on board, and once more the canoe sped forward.

"Look at my clothes," Billy whined. "What a mess they are in!"

"Oh, they'll soon dry out," Abner comforted. "When ye git ashore ye kin jist set in the sun, an' them duds'll he dry in no time. Then ye kin roll over a log, an' they'll he ironed an' ye'r pants creased quicker an' better than they could at any landry."

"But this mud won't come off, though," and Billy mournfully viewed several big daubs on his white trousers.

"Not if ye rub it. Jist let it dry, an' then it'll brush off without hardly a stain. It's somethin' like scandal, mud is. Rub it when it's wet, an', Lord, it makes an awful mess! But jist leave it alone fer a while, an' it'll disappear, an' ye'll scarcely know it was there. That's what old Parson Shaw uster say, an' it's true, fer I've tried it. But here we are at the island."