LITMIR.BIZ

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the ground very carefully, and I found that the small stream runs for some distance between two slight swells, which narrow in sharply to each other just below the house. Now I find that a dam of not more than fifty feet wide and eight feet high will make a sort of lake a quarter of a mile long, and averaging fifty yards wide. From this the water will flow over the whole flat by the river in front of the house and away to the left, and we shall be able to irrigate at least three or four hundred acres of land. Upon these we shall be able to raise four or five crops a year; and one crop in particular, the alfalfa, a sort of lucern for fattening the cattle in time of drought, when the grass is all parched up. At that time cattle ordinarily worth only £3 can be sold, if fat, for £9 or £10. So you see, boys, there is a grand prospect before us.’

      The boys entered enthusiastically into the scheme, and the party went at once to inspect the spot which Mr. Hardy had fixed upon for the dam. This, it was agreed, should be commenced the very next day; and Mr. Hardy said that he had no doubt, if the earth was properly puddled, or stamped when wet, that it would keep the water from coming through.

      In the afternoon Mrs. Hardy, Maud, and Ethel were taken a ride round the property, and were fortunate enough to see some ostriches, to the great delight of the girls.

      At tea Mr. Hardy said: ‘There is one very important point connected with our place which has hitherto been unaccountably neglected. Do any of you know what it is?’

      The boys and their sisters looked at each other in great perplexity, and in vain endeavoured to think of any important omission.

      ‘I mean,’ their father said at last, ‘the place has no name. I suggest that we fix upon one at once. It is only marked in the Government plan as Lot 473. Now, what name shall it be?’

      Innumerable were the suggestions made, but none met with universal approbation. At last Mrs. Hardy said: ‘I have heard in England of a place called Mount Pleasant, though I confess I do not know where it is. Now, what do you say to Mount Pleasant? It is a mount, and we mean it to be a very pleasant place before we have done with it.’

      The approval of the suggestion was general, and amid great applause it was settled that the house and estate should hereafter go by the name of ‘Mount Pleasant.’

      In the morning the boys were at work at two wheelbarrows, for which Mr. Hardy had brought out wheels and iron-work; and Mr. Hardy and the men went down to the stream, and began to strip off the turf and to dig out a strip of land five-and-twenty feet wide along the line where the dam was to come. The earth was then wetted and puddled. When the barrows were completed they were brought into work; and in ten days a dam was raised eight feet high, three feet wide at the top, and twenty-five feet wide at the bottom. In the middle a space of two feet wide was left, through which the little stream at present ran. Two posts, with grooves in them, were driven in, one upon either side of this; and thus the work was left for a few days, for the sun to bake its surface, while the men were cutting a trench for the water to run down to the ground to be irrigated.

      A small sluice was put at the entrance to this, to regulate the quantity of water to be allowed to flow, and all was now in readiness to complete the final operation of closing up the dam. A quantity of earth was first collected and puddled, and piled on the top of the dam and on the slopes by its side, so as to be in readiness, and Mrs. Hardy and the girls came down to watch the operation.

      First a number of boards two feet long, and cut to fit the grooves, were slipped down into them, forming a solid wall, and then upon the upper side of these the puddled earth was thrown down into the water, Terence standing below in the stream and pounding down the earth with a rammer. The success was complete: in a couple of hours’ time the gap in the dam was filled up, and they had the satisfaction of seeing the little stream overflowing its banks and widening out above, while not a drop of water made its escape by the old channel.

      While this work had been going on, the boys had been engaged up at the house. The first thing was to make a churn, then to put up some large closets and some more shelves, and the bullock-carts had to be sent to Rosario for a fresh supply of planks. This occupied them until the dam was finished. The girls had tried their first experiment at butter, and the result had been most satisfactory. The dinners, too, were pronounced to be an immense improvement upon the old state of things.

      Soon after the dam was finished, Hans, who had been too long a rover to settle down, expressed his desire to leave; and as Mr. Hardy had determined to lessen his establishment, – as, now that the heavy work was over, it was no longer necessary to keep so many hands, – he offered no objection to his leaving without the notice he had agreed to give. Wages were high, and Mr. Hardy was desirous of keeping his remaining capital in hand, in case of his sheep and cattle being driven off by the Indians. One of the peons was also discharged, and there remained only Lopez, Seth, Terence, and two peons.

      CHAPTER VI.

      A TALE OF THE MEXICAN WAR

      MR. HARDY was rather surprised at Seth Harper, the Yankee, having remained so long in his service, as the man had plainly stated, when first engaged, that he thought it likely that he should not fix himself, as he expressed it, for many weeks. However, he stayed on, and had evidently taken a fancy to the boys; and was still more interested in the girls, whose talk and ways must have been strange and very pleasant to him after so many years’ wandering as a solitary man. He was generally a man of few words, using signs where signs would suffice, and making his answers, when obliged to speak, as brief as possible. This habit of taciturnity was no doubt acquired from a long life passed either alone, or amid dangers where an unnecessary sound might have cost him his life. To the young people, however, he would relax from his habitual rule of silence. Of an evening, when work was over, they would go down to the bench he had erected outside his hut, and would ask him to tell them tales of his Indian experiences. Upon one of these occasions Charley said to him: ‘But of all the near escapes that you have had, which was the most hazardous you ever had? which do you consider was the narrowest touch you ever had of being killed?’

      Seth considered for some time in silence, turned his plug of tobacco in his mouth, expectorated two or three times, as was his custom when thinking, and then said, ‘That’s not altogether an easy question to answer. I’ve been so near wiped out such scores of times, that it ain’t no easy job to say which was the downright nearest. In thinking it over, I conclude sometimes that one go was the nearest, sometimes that another; it ain’t no ways easy to say now. But I think that, at the time, I never so much felt that Seth Harper’s time for going down had come, as I did in an affair near San Louis.’

      ‘And how was that, Seth? Do tell us about it,’ Maud said.

      ‘It’s rather a long story, that is,’ the Yankee said.

      ‘All the better, Seth,’ Charley said; ‘at least all the better as far as we are concerned, if you don’t mind telling it.’

      ‘No, I don’t mind, no how,’ Seth answered. ‘I’ll just think it over, and see where to begin.’

      There was a silence for a few minutes, and the young Hardys composed themselves comfortably for a good long sitting, and then Seth Harper began his story.

      ‘Better than five years back, in ’47, I were fighting in Mexico. It wasn’t much regular up and down fighting we had, though we had some toughish battles too, but it were skirmishing here, skirmishing there, keeping one eye always open, for man, woman, and child hated us like pison, and it was little mercy that a straggler might expect if he got caught away from his friends. Their partisan chiefs, half-soldier half-robber, did us more harm than the regulars, and mercy was never given or asked between them and us. Me and Rube Pearson worked mostly together. We had “fit” the Indians out on the prairies for years side by side, and when Uncle Sam wanted men to lick the Mexicans, we concluded to go in together. We ’listed as scouts to the “Rangers,” that is, we agreed to fight as much as we were wanted to fight, and to go on in front as scouts, in which way we had many a little skrimmage on our own account; but we didn’t wear any uniform, or do drill, which couldn’t have been expected of us. We shouldn’t have been no good as regulars, and every one knew that there were no better scouts in the army than Rube Pearson and Seth Harper. Lor’, what a fellow Rube was, to be sure! I ain’t a chicken,’ and the

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