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The Land of Fulfillment jj 
A Story of Homesteading 
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* CHAPTER XI. 
Fulfillment. 
Nate and Norm both heard Hank’s 
whistle, and came rushing down the val¬ 
ley to the well. 
“What’s up?” asked Nate. 
“Skunk in the well,” Hank replied 
carelessly. 
Nate sprang to the well, and bent over 
it “Who’s in here?” he called, but with¬ 
out waiting for a reply he swung the 
bucket down, carefully, and drew forth 
the much chastened Mr. James. Hank 
illuminated the scene with a few 
matches. 
“Why, it’s our old friend, the enemy,” 
Nate chortled. “Hank, you’re too fresh! 
Come up to the house and get some dry 
things,” Nate ordered pushing Mr. 
James by his shoulders. 
“No, no, I haiu’t goin’ to the house. 
You've prob’ly got Ited Injuns or sum- 
thin’ worse thar! I’m goin’ away, and 
I hain’t never coinin’ back. It’s that 
skunk Measman who’s put up for all 
this, 'nd then skedaddled and left me to 
drown. I’ll have it outen him ! If you 
see a dog’s hide strung along the road, 
you can know it’s hissen. Lemme go!” 
•aid Mr. James twisted himself away from 
Nate’s detaining hand, and sprinted out 
of sight. 
“There must be something peculiarly 
attractive about this creek claim,” Hank 
mused whimsically. “But for the life of 
me. I can’t see what it is.” 
“Measman took a box of shale for the 
kids to make mud-pies,” Nate informed 
laconically. 
“And he hasn’t any kids,” vouchsafed 
Norm. 
“Ha, ha!” suspirated Hank. “If it’s 
more’n it looks like why don’t you try 
it out for yourselves.” 
“We’ve shipped a box for analysis,” 
Nate explained. 
"Oh, I see! Y'ou’ll soon know what 
kind of a ‘green glass goblin’ you have 
on hand.” and Hank nodded with un¬ 
derstanding and approval. 
The days passed as days do, when 
filled with all-engrossing work. Nate and 
Norm were helping their neighbors 
thrash and were being helped, and so 
almost before they expected it came Mr. 
Rodman’s letter, in reply to the one Nate 
had written him. 
Wrote Mr. Rodman: 
“The receipt of your letter has greatly 
relieved mo. Your sudden disappearance 
caused quite a ripple here. You were 
searched for by detectives, and our com¬ 
pany offered a reward for any clue to 
your whereabouts but no clue came un¬ 
til you yourself presented it, so you are 
in line for the reward. Said reward was 
offered, because I felt myself to be pecu¬ 
liarly culpable, having forced you to face 
your condition without any preparation. 
It was generally believed that you had 
been dealt foully with, or that you had 
succumbed to despondency and—still this 
would not have been like you, with your 
splendid mental poise and serene temper¬ 
ament. 
“About the shale you sent, I am glad 
to tell you that it is proved to be a per¬ 
fect brick-making material. In most 
brick-making the component parts are 
often widely separated, and must be 
shipped hundreds or thousands of miles 
to bring them together. You can thus 
see, the pertinence of possessing a per¬ 
fect amalgamation of materials. My ad¬ 
vice would be to organize a company, 
and operate a brick yard. Lacking other 
native building material this ought to 
prove very remunerative. It would not 
take long to install your brick machine, 
and build the kilns. I shall make a run 
out there as soon as I can, and we will 
talk the matter over. In the meantime, 
rest assured of my unabated interest and 
desire to help. 
“Congratulating you, most of all upon 
your re-established health, but also upon 
your present comfortable circumstances, 
and your assured future prosperity.” 
This letter confirmed Nate’s pre-con- 
ceived ideas regarding the shale, for the 
bottom of the impromptu oven in the cel¬ 
lar had shown that the shale, subjected 
to the intense heat of burning coal, sup¬ 
plemented by frequent sloppings of water, 
had amalgamated into a perfectly hard, 
smooth surface, and that the stones in 
the oven were strongly cemented in place 
by a beautifully mottled, red-brown sub¬ 
stance. 
Hank Jones and Jim Maynard were 
shown this letter, and so let into the se¬ 
cret, which had been partially suspected 
by both. 
“I knew there must be some reason 
why so many attempts had been made 
to wrest this land from you,” Jim re¬ 
marked thoughtfully. “But I never could 
imagine what it could be. Brick-making 
ought to profitable, here where there is 
no native building material. Glory ! But 
.vou are in IT!” and Jim jumped up and 
shook hands, not only with Nate and 
Norm, but with Hank, and then with 
himself, with unabated gusto. 
“That’s just right Jim, congratulate 
yourself too, for you fellows are right 
in on this deal. You’ve stood by us, and 
helped in every way, and now’s our 
chance to do a little stand-patting,” and 
Nate too, shook hands all around. 
“Not much!” remonstrated Hank. “I 
can't recall anytime, when Jim and I 
evened up the crop balance, and we’ve 
always had more grain than you have.” 
“Just so,” agreed Jim. “You’ve 
struck it rich, and we’re plenty glad, but 
as for going in even we don’t do it. 
We’ll want some shares of course.” 
“What do we want with all this stuff?” 
snorted Nate. “There’s shale enough to 
brick-wall the United States, and then 
build a tariff platform. That land isn’t 
worth five cents as land.” 
“If you’re so blamed set on sharing, 
how would it be if we shared? We can 
trade some of our tillable land for some 
of your shale bank, although, now we 
have found out, we know that our land 
isn’t worth much in comparison to 
yours.” 
“You can’t do all the generousing,” 
Jim agreed whimsically. “We’ll deed you 
fellows half of our land, and we’ll take 
a little of yours, if you’re bound to have 
it so.” 
“Oh, get out,” Nate cried disgustedly. 
"Jim and I have quite a heap of 
wheat this year, and we'll have a bank 
full of money when we sell, so you’ll just 
have to do away with the alms-giving act, 
just at present,” Hank chuckled good- 
naturedly. 
“We’re all pals and brothers,” urged 
Nate. 
“Pals and brothers, and more,” Norm 
said quietly. “We’ve lived here side by 
side for years and we’ve grown closer 
together than any brothers ever did. 
Have your own way—what does it mat¬ 
ter? Only so we share together, and 
keep on together.” And so the matter 
ended. 
Three weeks after Nathan Lee and 
Norman Duane had made their final 
proof upon their land, a well-dressed man 
drove into the yard and stopped near 
the shanty. 
“At the Sign of the Gingham Apron,” 
laughed Nate good-naturedly, as he 
looked up from his cooking. For it had 
become an established custom, for travel¬ 
lers to stop there for meals, because of 
the ever present apron on the line. Nate 
went to the open door and waited with 
welcome in his face. 
“My name is Henderson,” the new¬ 
comer introduced, “and I understand 
you’re Mr. Lee. I’m buying land. This 
place with the creek running through 
it looks good to me. It would make 
a good place for cattle raising, but I 
see now that it’s not much use other¬ 
wise.” 
“Not so very much use,” Nate ad¬ 
mitted cheerfully. 
“Then you want to sell?” tersely. 
“We haven’t got our land patents yet, 
so I guess we won’t sell just now,” Nate 
parried. “Might sell, mavbe, if we got 
our price,” he baited. 
“Mmm! I hadn’t thought of taking 
quite so much. I’d like to get all the 
land on the creek border, that would 
leave you. your best agricultural land. 
I could put up a fence, or have my 
cattle herded in the valley.” 
“No,” Nate answered pleasantly, his 
dark eyes shining with something akin 
to laughter, for he thought he know why 
this man had come. “We sell the whole 
section if we sell any. We may decide 
to change our methods of work ourselves, 
you know?” 
“I'll give you twenty-five dollars an 
acre, for your waste land,” Mr. Hender¬ 
son replied, with the full expectation of 
having the offer snapped up instantly. 
But the offer was not even considered. 
"Twenty-fivee for the entire holding 
wouldn’t touch it.” Nate smiled cheer¬ 
fully. 
“But you know that land isn’t worth 
five cents an acre for farming,” Mr. 
Henderson argued, driving along nearer 
to the edge of the bank, and getting out 
of the buggy. 
Mr. Henderson picked up a handful of 
the shale. “It’s almost as crumbly as 
meal, and nothing would ever grow on 
it.” 
“No,” Nate admitted. 
Mr. Henderson eyed that young man 
sharply. “I’ve taken a great fancy to 
tnis location and I’d like to send my son 
out here to start. He wouldn’t want to 
farm—so if you’ll sell me the land I 
want I wouldn’t mind giving you thirty 
dollars for it.” 
“No,” Nate responded mildly. “If it’s 
worth that to your son for cattle it 
ought to be to us.” 
“Would forty dollars touch the mark?” 
Mr. Henderson was after that land. 
“No, nor fifty,” Nate said smiling. 
“l r ou’ve certainly an exaggerated idea 
of the value of this plat of land, as a 
cattle range.” 
“There’s cheaper land for that pur¬ 
pose,” Nate agreed. “But you don’t 
want it for that. You’re Measman’s 
agent, or pawn, or accomplice or envoy, 
and he’s tried every way, for five years 
to get this land by every low-down means 
he could invent. Now I happen to know 
that this shale land, must be of some 
especial value to him or he’d know when 
lie was beaten, and stop trying to get it, 
for less than its worth. I wouldn’t sell 
this section of land to him for less than a 
thousand dollars an acre all through, for 
he knows, and I know that it will be 
eventually worth more than that, because 
of this shale, that seems so worthless.” 
Nate spoke quietly, but illurninatingly. 
“What do you think you have here?” 
Mr. Henderson asked blandly. “A gold 
mine?” 
“Neither gold, nor silver, nor any pre¬ 
cious metal, but we have something that 
will go far towards building up this 
place. There is no natural timber or 
building material and this shale bank 
will furnish illimitable bricks.” 
“Supposing what you say is true, this 
shale isn't going to make itself into 
bricks. It will take a moneyed cor¬ 
poration to organize and a company and 
start it, and afterwards to market the 
output. There isn’t any near railroad, 
and people aren't going to pay twenty to 
thirty dollars per thousand for bricks to 
build shacks on these plains. Then, 
again, shale is not enough of itself, it 
requires the mixing of a lacking ingre¬ 
dient, and it frequently chances that this 
required element is many hundreds of 
miles from the shale. I low are you go¬ 
ing to overcome all these obstacles? 
Where are you going to get the money 
for starting, even should you be able to 
market and make bricks after you had 
started? Measman and I will take the 
land, start a company, get a railroad run 
through here. We’ll plat a city and sell 
lots, and in a few years we will make 
this waste and worthless place, this howl¬ 
ing wilderness, a prosperous young city.” 
“That is a glowing outlook, but all 
this doesn’t seem to lessen the value of 
this land.” Nate said evenly. “However, 
part of it can be refuted. Ft • instance 
I know that even now, surveyors are at 
work, and that the C. M. & St. 1’. It. It. 
will go forward, and bring us shipping 
facilities. And as for the imperfect shale. 
I chance to know that this is a perfect 
product, requiring no additions or sub¬ 
tractions. I’ve had it tested, and ana¬ 
lyzed. It is said to be one of the finest 
brick-making materials extant. Now if 
Measman had been decent about this, 
it would be different, but he simply tried 
to wrest the land from us, and we 
haven’t any particular friendship for 
him. or anxiety to further his projects. 
So this is my final word to him and to 
you, as his envoy. Moreover I have 
every reason to believe that we can float 
this enterprise—I chance to have an in¬ 
fluential and moneyed friend myself.” 
Nate spoke with his usual serenity, but 
with a certain gentle firmness which 
could not be misunderstood. 
“If I'd known all this, I wouldn’t 
have come on this errand. I suppose 
Measman had just got his eye on this 
deal, and wanted if carried through quiet¬ 
ly. I know he isn’t any too scrupulous 
in his fight after what he wants, but I 
didn’t really suppose he was as low-down 
as he seems to be. 1 wish you every 
success!” And Mr. Henderson lifting 
his hat, politely, stepped into his buggy 
and left Nate standing on the edge of the 
shale bank. 
Nate went slowly back to the shack 
and to his dinner getting. The house 
was full of an acrid smoke, and the ba¬ 
con was black on the stove. Nate was 
dumping this unsavory article out when 
Norm came in. AVith a few words Nate 
explained the situation and Norm, having 
washed himself, began to cut new slices 
of bacon, which Nate put into his freshly 
washed skillet. The dinner was well un¬ 
der way again, when as second vehicle 
drove up to the door. Nate exclaimed 
again, under his breath, “At the Sign of 
the Gingham Apron.” 
Norm, a little more pessimistic re¬ 
marked, “At the Edge of the Shale 
Bank.” Probably another financier after 
would-be pastoral pleasures.” But neith¬ 
er were right. 
“It’s—why it’s Mr. Rodman himself— 
my old boss.” Nate cried exultantly. “Oh, 
just wait a minute—wait and see if he'll 
know me.” Nate rushed to the door for¬ 
getful for the second time of his frying 
bacon. A tall, gray-haired man leaned 
forward in the buggy. He glanced at 
Nate sharply, and said eagerly. “I’m 
looking for Nate Lee, I was told he lived 
here.” 
“He does,” Nate said smiling bright¬ 
ly. “Come in ; my pal is just insid< 
Mr. Rodman sprang 
and entered the shack 
look he gazed first at 
figure, and then back 
form. Then a look 
swept over bis face. 
“Nate Lee. Nate Lee!” he cried, and 
catching Nate’s slim hand he shook it 
vigorously, but no less warmly than Nate 
was shaking that of his old employer. 
“Well, well, well. What a looker you 
are to be sure! With all that tanning 
and strengthening and broadening. No¬ 
body on the face of the earth would have 
known you, for the ghastly looking boy 
who left my doctor’s office a condemned 
man. This is good—this is better than 
a gold mine, let alone shale for brick.” 
Mr. Rodman still looked at Nate admir- 
ingly, as though he could not look enough 
and still shook his hand. 
“I reckon I’m worth a whole row of 
dead men, yet,” Nate agreed, his fine 
face flushing and his eyes shining. “This 
is my pal, Norman Duane,” Nate intro¬ 
duced. and Mr. Rodman shook Norm’s 
hand no less heartily than he lmd shaken 
Nate’s. 
from the buggy 
With a dazed 
Norm’s stalwart 
at Nate’s lithe 
of understanding 
(Concluded on page J'/o.) 
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