That night he was late in coming home, but brought with him a radiant face. Saxon was no less radiant.
"It's all right," she greeted him, coming out to the barn where he was unhitching a tired but fractious colt. "I've talked with all three. They see the situation, and are perfectly willing to let their wages stand a while. By another week I start Hazel and Hattie delivering vegetables. Then the money will pour in from the hotels and my books won't look so lopsided. And--oh, Billy--you'd never guess. Old Gow Yum has a bank account. He came to me afterward--I guess he was thinking it over-- and offered to lend me four hundred dollars. What do you think of that?"
"That I ain't goin' to be too proud to borrow it off 'm, if he IS a Chink. He's a white one, an' maybe I'll need it. Because, you see--well, you can't guess what I've been up to since I seen you this mornin'. I've been so busy I ain't had a bite to eat."
"Using your head?" She laughed.
"You can call it that," he joined in her laughter. "I've been spendin' money like water."
"But you haven't got any to spend," she objected.
"I've got credit in this valley, I'll let you know," he replied.
" An' I sure strained it some this afternoon. Now guess."
"A saddle-horse?"
He roared with laughter, startling the colt, which tried to bolt and lifted him half off the ground by his grip on its frightened nose and neck.
"Oh, I mean real guessin'," he urged, when the animal had dropped back to earth and stood regarding him with trembling suspicion.
"Two saddle-horses?"
"Aw, you ain't got imagination. I'll tell you. You know Thiercroft. I bought his big wagon from 'm for sixty dollars. I bought a wagon from the Kenwood blacksmith-- so-so, but it'll do--for forty-five dollars. An' I bought Ping's wagon--a peach--for sixty-five dollars. I could a-got it for fifty if he hadn't seen I wanted it bad."
"But the money?" Saxon questioned faintly. "You hadn't a hundred dollars left."
"Didn't I tell you I had credit? Well, I have. I stood 'm off for them wagons. I ain't spent a cent of cash money to-day except for a couple of long-distance switches. Then I bought three sets of work-harness--they're chain harness an' second-hand--for twenty dollars a set. I bought 'm from the fellow that's doin' the haulin' for the quarry. He don't need 'm any more. An' I rented four wagons from 'm, an' four span of horses, too, at half a dollar a day for each horse, an' half a dollar a day for each wagon--that's six dollars a day rent I gotta pay 'm. The three sets of spare harness is for my six horses. Then . . .lemme see .
. . yep, I rented two barns in Glen Ellen, an' I ordered fifty tons of hay an' a carload of bran an' barley from the store in Glenwood-- you see, I gotta feed all them fourteen horses, an' shoe 'm, an' everything.
"Oh, sure Pete, I've went some. I hired seven men to go drivin' for me at two dollars a day, an'--ouch! Jehosaphat! What you doin'!"
"No," Saxon said gravely, having pinched him, "you're not dreaming." She felt his pulse and forehead. "Not a sign of fever." She sniffed his breath. "And you've not been drinking. Go on, tell me the rest of this...whatever it is."
"Ain't you satisfied?"
"No. I want more. I want all."
"All right. But I just want you to know, first, that the boss I used to work for in Oakland ain't got nothin' on me. I 'm some man of affairs, if anybody should ride up on a vegetable wagon an' ask you. Now, I 'm goin' to tell you, though I can't see why the Glen Ellen folks didn't beat me to it. I guess they was asleep. Nobody'd a-overlooked a thing like it in the city. You see, it was like this: you know that fancy brickyard they're gettin' ready to start for makin' extra special fire brick for inside walls? Well, here was I worryin' about the six horses comin' back on my hands, earnin' me nothin' an' eatin' me into the poorhouse. I had to get 'm work somehow, an' I remembered the brickyard. I drove the colt down an' talked with that Jap chemist who's been doin' the experimentin'. Gee! They was foremen lookin' over the ground an' everything gettin' ready to hum. I looked over the lay an' studied it. Then I drove up to where they're openin' the clay pit--you know, that fine, white chalky stuff we saw 'em borin' out just outside the hundred an' forty acres with the three knolls. It's a down-hill haul, a mile, an' two horses can do it easy. In fact, their hardest job'll be haulin' the empty wagons up to the pit. Then I tied the colt an' went to figurin'.
