XXII
Von Rittenheim Collects his Rent
It was in the cool of the next day's afternoon that von Rittenheim, with 'Gene Frady, who was working for him, drove up to the field where was piled his rent corn. Bud was awaiting him there, and after he had chosen his heap from the three which were as nearly alike as it was possible to make them, he sat on a fallen tree and idly watched the two men loading the wagon. The western sky gave prophecy of a cloudless sunset, and Friedrich wished that his own path towards oblivion were as free and clear, and smiled faintly at the triteness of his comparison.
He owned to himself as he sat there that he was contented. He had entered upon his business with the desire to retrieve his past, and to make for himself a future that might be worthy for Sydney to share. Now the latter spur to ambition was gone, but it was replaced by an urgent desire to forget in work the bitter disappointment that had befallen him. Pushed by that incentive his venture could not long remain a venture. Such energy was bound to bring success. And the victory, which was daily more evident and more substantial, combined with the feeling that he was doing his duty as he saw it, to produce content.
But happiness? No. Never while—— Oh, what was the use of thinking about it? He rose impatiently, and walked through the brush at the top of the field, slapping at the leaves with a switch that he had been stripping.
Of a sudden he stopped and sat down on a stump.
"Goin' down with me, Mr. Baron?" called 'Gene from the top of the loaded wagon.
"No, I think not. I'll stay and talk with Bud a while. Come up here, Yare-brough," he added, as Frady drove off, whistling.
Bud approached, wiping the perspiration from his forehead with his shirt sleeve.
"Bud, did you know this was here?"