“I reckon that’s all so,” returned
the other. “And of course everybody knows
that there never was such a thing as dishonest store-keepers.
Merchants don’t never beat anybody with short
weight and all that?”
This raised a laugh in which Deck joined as heartily
as anyone. Even the banker smiled coldly as he
asked: “What did you say your name was?”
“Didn’t say; but it’s Sam Warren.”
“Where is your ranch?”
“Six miles north on the Number One main.”
“Well, Mr. Warren, I’ve been considering
this proposition and I’ve got it figured out
like this. We all want to make what we can in
this new country; that’s what we came in for.
This store can’t get along without the ranchers’
support and you ranchers can’t get along without
the store. We’ve all got to pull together
and help each other. I don’t believe that
many of the men who come into this Desert to actually
settle on and improve the land are the kind of men
who beat their bills. I figured to run on a cash
basis only until things got started and sort of settled
down, you see. I know that you people need credit
until you get on your feet. From now on you come
here—for whatever you actually need, you
understand—and we’ll carry you for
any reasonable amount until you get something coming
in. All we ask in return is that you ranchers
do as you say and stand by us when you do get on top.”
At Jefferson Worth’s simple and quietly spoken
words a hush fell over the group of men. Abe
Lee looked at his companion in amazement. Sam
Warren turned from the stranger to the store-keeper
and back to the stranger. The man behind the
counter was smiling broadly as if enjoying the situation.
When no one could find a word with which to break
the silence, Deck Jordan said: “Gentlemen,
this is Mr. Jefferson Worth, the owner of this store.
George!” he called to a passing clerk, “give
Sam whatever he wants as soon as you can get around
to it, and charge it.”
At this such a yell went up from the bystanders that
a crowd from the outside rushed in, and as the word
passed and others voiced their approval as loudly,
the Manager of The King’s Basin Land and Irrigation
Company in his rooms across the street thought that
another fight was on.
The Manager was not far wrong in his conclusion.
BARBARA’S CALL TO HER FRIENDS.
That night, long after Kingston was still and the
Manager of The King’s Basin Land and Irrigation
Company was fast asleep, Jefferson Worth and Abe Lee
talked in the little tent that, from the lantern within,
glowed in the darkness, seemingly the one spot of light
under the desert stars.
The next morning the surveyor left town on the stage,
but not as he had planned. Abe knew now where
he was going and what he was going to do. He
was bound for the city by the sea and he carried in
his pocket several letters of introduction, written
by his employer and addressed to different firms engaged
in manufacturing and selling things electrical.
And more than this, Abe would see Barbara.
