The Argosy, December 1905 — page 153: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“HAM” ARDSLEY’S THEORIES. not come from the reaction of his hard ride. “There is trouble in ditch camp. The men have struck for shorter hours and more pay. That was what brought on the stroke, we think. It wasn’t that father cared for the money, but he didn’t like to be forced by the fact that the men knew he must get the work done on time. And now it’s got to be done, do you understand? For the sake of father’s name and honor, we’ve got to finish those ditches and live up to the contract. Can you do it?” Ardsley sat with his hands plunged deep in his “ chaps,” his long, lean legs thrust under the table, his damp hair hanging over his red-rimmed eyes. “They say they are tired of working for a man who will get ten times what they are receiving, and then turn them loose to find work elsewhere. It’s the old trouble between the man who con- ceives and the man who executes.” Ardsley jerked himself to an upright position. The girl was watching him in- tently. In the portentous silence which fell upon the room, her thoughts traveled back two years and dwelt persistently on the figure of a trampish dreamer, enunciating theories as he trudged at her pony’s flanks.. What if he Then she recalled two years of un- remitting, practical effort, and took heart. “Father will clean up thousands on this contract, 1 suppose?” she asked after an instant. “Yes, and it means thousands upon thousands more from similar contracts. Why, those scoundrels are crazy! If your father hadn’t conceived the idea of building these ditches, the Greasers would be herding sheep and half starv- ing, but now they are getting twenty dollars a month and their board, darned good board, too, for men of their class. What the deuce does Ramsey mean by letting dissatisfaction reach such a point?” “Ramsey is sick—hasn’t left his shack for five days. That is why father was looking after things in the broiling sun. Ramsey wouldn’t see the doctor, though father urged him to have one. 131 Says he is clean petered out, working such long hours, and ‘don’t know as he blames the men es Ardsley stood up suddenly and stared at the girl across the table. Ramsey— the man who had secured the position he had coveted as foreman of the ditch gangs! Ramsey had ‘been recommended by the Denver Syndicate, the one party to be benefited by Carter’s failure to live up to his contract. If the ditches were not finished on time, they reverted in their unfinished condition to the syn- dieate, and Carter was to be paid only their exact cost in manual labor—not one cent profit, no allowance for the brain which had :conceived the wonder- ful net-work of life-giving water. Ardsley’s mouth set im firm, ugly lines. “Tell Pete to fix me up something to eat while I have a wash,” he said with a sudden assumption of leadership. Then he stalked over to his quarters, thinking hard and fast. Just before noon, faithful Bill Lamp- ton rode up to the ranch-house. He found a fresh horse saddled and waiting for him, also a white faced, big-eyed girl in a gray habit, and a stern-faced, sharp-spoken man. Both were well armed, and Bill ex- tended his hands naturally for the Colt 44 and a barking Winchester, both loaded for action. “There are three gangs of those Greasers,” said Ardsley quietly. “ You will cover one, Miss Carter the second, and I the third. I’ve got Ramsey under guard. Now, you take ditch No. 3, and Pll send out your men. Never-drop your gun until six to-night. Then herd ’em back to camp. I'll send up Miss ‘Carter’s next, and then I’ll drive up my own men. Keep a bead on ’em, and don’t give ’em a chance to draw a knife on ou.” Silently Bill and Miss Carter rode away to their posts, and Ardsley gal- loped two miles, straight inte the camp of sullen Greasers. With his gun at an wninviting angle, he explained the exact ‘situation to the men. They would work according to their GomiGcdooks (C@