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An hour in advance of the arrival of the Pacific Limited, Sam Welbornpaced the platform of the Union Pacific passenger station at Cheyenne,awaiting the arrival of his little partner from Omaha. He was adifferent man in appearance from the one who, the week before, hadcome down from the mountains in charge of two obstreperous bear cubs.On that occasion, he had worn overalls, a sheepskin jacket, heavy,clumsy shoes, and an eared cap of ancient vintage. On the day of hisappointment, he was dressed as the ordinary business man about to takethe train for Ogden or points west. His fairly well-worn, black,pin-striped suit, neatly pressed, fitted his six-foot-two frame as ifbuilt by a professional clothier; a rolled-collar shirt, a blue polkadot tie, freshly shined shoes, and a soft crush hat completed theoutfit. Over his arm he carried an overcoat. Other prospectivetravelers wore their topcoats, but Sam Welborn was of the outdoors.
He had parked the Ford with its trailer attachment at the west end ofthe platform. If his partner's impedimentia was not too bulky, theancient model was ready for another trek to the hills. Back and forthalong the long brick platform he strode in the bright autumn sun. Itwas no sloven's gait. An observer would have said that somewhere,sometime, in his career of maybe thirty years, he had faced ahardboiled old topper who insisted with piratical invectives that"heads up, shoulders back, stomachs in" was the proper posture forhumans who were eating government grub and drawing government pay.
Very true, Welborn was not in immediate need of exercise. In the lastweek he had worked, and worked hard, during every daylight hour. Hehad not slept in the last thirty hours. But these were figments,incidents, to be disregarded now that success was just back of thecurtain. Now he was to meet the little man who had made this prospectof success possible. Now his greetings must be cordial andappreciative. Nothing should be left undone to overcome thedisappointments the midget must endure. In his first meeting withDavy, Welborn had tried to discourage the plan of "holing up" in aremote section, far removed from the things to which he wasaccustomed. He pictured himself as an old grouch, soured on the world,and surely uncompanionable. He dwelt on the lonely hours, the bigsnows, and other bad features but it was of no avail. Davy was on hisway. In other days, in vastly different surroundings, Sam Welborn hadknown the tactful duties of a genial host; now he would revert to thatrole.
David Lannarck was the first passenger to alight as number twenty-onecame thundering in from the east. The porter helped with his grips.Davy searched the platform for his friend.
"Why, why, I didn't know you! You look like another fellow!" heexclaimed, as Welborn reached for his grips. "You are younger, betterlooking, different."
"I am younger, but not different," chuckled Welborn. "I've been takinga tonic--the tonic of hard work. I've nearly completed my big job, andI've located your horse for you."
"Hurray!" yelled Davy, "And can I get him right away?"
"There you go, jumping the gun again. Why that little horse is ahundred miles from here. He's not broken to ride. He might not suityour fancy, and it might take a lot of diplomacy to get him. Hebelongs to a girl."
The baggage--two trunks, a showman's keyster, two suitcases, a bigduffle bag and handbags--was loaded on trailer and backseat. "Well, Idon't see much room for groceries," said Davy, as he climbed in."We've got to have pickles and beans, and plenty of vitamins andcalories to balance the ration. Really, before starting, I should haveconsulted Admiral Byrd on outfitting a polar expedition. Aren't we tostock up on food--here--or somewhere?" He questioned, as he notedthat Welborn drove across the tracks and away from the city.
"The eating question is practically solved," said Welborn. "Solvedthrough the providence and frugality of good neighbors. They areoverstocked and it's up to us to reduce the surplus. I took out rice,sugar, salt, and a lot of extras on my last trip, and with theirsurplus of meat, fish, fowl, flour, fruits--canned and preserved,vegetables--canned and raw, we should live like pigs at a full trough.However, if you need tobacco, chewing gum, toothpaste, any specialkind of medicine, we can get that at the Last Chance, further down theroad."
"No, I'll not need any such sidelines for many a week, but I thoughtyou said we did not have any neighbors? Who runs this fine market andcanning factory out in the wide open spaces?"
Welborn laughed. "Wait till we get out of this traffic and on astraightaway; there's much to tell and we've got a lot of time. I havearranged for dinner about twenty miles down this road, and we willpush things pretty hard this afternoon so that we can eat a latesupper right at this Market and then you will understand.
"You see, this old car, loaded like she is, and pulling a trailer, cando about twenty-five miles per, on this federal road, but it's not allfederal road, and the last fifteen miles will take a lot of good luckand fully two hours to make the grade. I would like to get home indaylight."
The general direction of the national roadway, was west. The trafficto and from Cheyenne at this noon hour was not heavy. Tourists werestill touring, notwithstanding the fact that this section of thecountry might be snowed under at any time; truckloads of livestock,were encountered, and far down the highway, where the traffic thinneddown, the partners met a big band of sheep that required care anddiplomacy in passing. Presently, Welborn turned the car into adriveway at a neat farm home.
"Hungry?" he asked.
"Yes, I am always hungry, although I had breakfast somewhere this sideof Julesburg."
"Well, I arranged for dinner here, and we will also stock up on gasand oil for the long trek. Of course I carry an extra five gallons inthe can on the running board, but this is about our last place tostock up on eats."
A woman came to the door. "You are right on time," she said. "I hopeyou have brought your appetites, as the lunch is just ready."
Somebody was thoughtful; there was a high chair at the dining table.After a very satisfying meal, Welborn shoved back his chair. He founda piece of wrapping paper that he spread in front of Davy and drew arough map.
"We are near the line of two states," he said. "The Medicine BowMountains are here. Geologists point out that this range sointerrupted the route of the Continental Divide that it turned it backto the north in a big curve and made it hard to find. We go through apass in the range. On this side, we run into the little streams thatform the Laramie River. On yon side is the North Platte. Both runnorth and both find sources in the North Park. Those who know, saythat for beauty and grandeur no section of the world beats the NorthPark country. Personally I do not know, as my contacts have beenlimited. It is said, too, that this is the northern limits of gold. Atthis point, the mountains seemed to have changed their content, orelse those to the north were made at a different era. All these thingsare speculative and have their exceptions, as I well know.
"North Park, however, is a great grazing country. Its grass wealth maybe greater than its mineral. The government owns the land, excepttracts here and there suitable for farming. Our destination is theSilver Falls Project, a fine body of rolling land, suitable for eithergrazing or farming. It was laid out in convenient tracts forhomesteads. Each parcel was a half section. If there was rough landadjoining a tract, that was included for good measure. It was openedfor settlers and many came, but none stayed. There was no centralorganization to hold them--no church to rally around--no oneestablished a central trading post--no outstanding personage tocollect and hold, as is always the case in community building inAmerica. Then, too, there were no roads; therefore no market outlet.The road over which we are going, is the only inlet and there's nooutlet. A half mile of blasting and building would have made anentrance to the Tranquil Meadows district and to trails and highwaysthat led to market towns in two states, but the blasting and buildingwas never done. The Silver Falls Project never grew big enough to makeits decline noticeable.
"Of those who came to try it out, only four stuck to a final deed. Twoof these are at this end of the project. Carter runs a filling stationat the forks of the road and Withrow, next to him, hunts, traps, andplays a fiddle. I acquired
the two tracts at the far end of theproject and Gillis, our enterprising neighbor, owns two parcels nextto me and operates the abandoned tracts under grazing allotments. Thisis a real ranch; small, as compared to others, but modeled as a farmin the East, for Gillis is a real farmer. I make the guess that whenyou grow homesick and tired of the loneliness at my place you willheadquarter at the Gillis place, in fact I have made that kind ofarrangement with them. They have a telephone, a radio, a phonograph,and take plenty of newspapers and magazines, and, best of all, thereis a kindly, enterprising woman there to manage, to cook and can thefruits and vegetables, and do the homey things that makes life fit tolive.
"They have cows, chickens, turkeys, pigs, and raise plenty of feed.But they are an oasis in a desert. Except for our place, they have noneighbors within fifteen miles. Mrs. Gillis is a worker and a planner.She sells pigs, turkeys and calves, in Laramie and Cheyenne, more thanone hundred miles away; she has a working arrangement with thefilling station down at the roadside, whereby they sell quite a lotof her canned stuff and preserves. She's always got something to selland sells it, market or no market.
"I depend on them for almost everything. Even the car and trailer outthere belongs to them. I bought a stock of chickens off of them, and Irent a cow and calf from them. Really, while you have come out here tomy place, you will subsist for the most part off the Gillis family."
"Well the outlook gets better and better each time you add a chapter,"said Davy as they walked out to the car. "How many in the Gillisfamily?"
"Just two, Jim and his wife. But staying with them is Landy--LandySpencer, Mrs. Gillis' brother. He's older, is an oldtime cow hand thathas retired, when Mrs. Gillis will let him. He's been in the Westsince boyhood and knows the game, but doesn't play it. He just puttersaround, when Mrs. Gillis isn't after him to do something, and that'sthe reason he stays up at our place most of the time. You will likeLandy. He is the one that located your horse over at Lough's B-lineRanch. I had told him of your wanting a little horse, and this week,while Gillis and I were blasting out the rock and setting the pump,Landy strayed over to Lough's and located the nag. Landy says as soonas he sees you, he can tell instantly if the horse will fit."
"I've got a saddle in that keyster, and he can measure by that," saidDavy, "and anyhow I don't want a little, low-headed, round-belliedhoss that can't go places. If he is a cowboy, he will know the kind."
For five or more miles, the route led over a national highway. ThenWelborn turned to the right, drove a few hundred feet and stopped."Look out here to the left" he said. "See that big mound with its headin the clouds? That's Longs Peak, the highest in the country. On aclear day, it can be seen from Cheyenne. From here on, you are to seemountains and more mountains, but Longs Peak is the daddy of themall."
Now the roadway was not so good, but the ancient car labored on infull vigor. Fences had disappeared; the roadway no longer held tosection lines but took the course of least resistance, generallyfollowing the stream bed which it crossed and re-crossed many times.The direction was generally west and up. Twice on the trip, Welborntook a bucket out of the car, dipped water from the stream, and cooledthe heated engine. On one of these occasions, he washed his face inthe cooling waters, explaining that he did this to overcomedrowsiness.
Davy saw everything. This was his country. Except for meeting a loneherder in charge of a band of sheep, they had not met a human being inthe last fifty miles. Yet there was plenty of life. They were neverout of sight of cattle--not the big herds as Davy thought it wouldbe--just a few here and there. There were some horses around thelittle pole barns off the roadway. High up on distant hills, bands ofsheep were grazing.
Overhead, but not too high, hawks skimmed the levels or tilted overknolls and hills in search of a quarry; larks gathered in flights fora final powwow before beginning the long trip southward. Magpiesflitted through the shrubbery of the creek banks. In crossing a littlewooden bridge near a waterfall, Davy saw an object in the water, thenin the air, and then in the water where the spray fell and where foamformed. Later, he was to know this little slate-colored bird as thewater ouzel, a bird that was neither wader nor swimmer, yet took hissubsistence from the foam and spray.
"That road leads to Laramie," said Welborn pointing out a trail to theright. "Laramie is closer to our place, and one less mountain range tocross."
"Why didn't we come that way?" asked Davy.
"Well, the big circus didn't show in Laramie, and I had to get toCheyenne for contact. There I met a fellow who freighted me down withpump tools and I had to take back some of the wrenches I borrowed.Then this fellow made an appointment for Cheyenne, and I would nothave missed the appointment for anything."
"Oh yeah," said Davy, "I suppose out here, the matter of a fewmountain ranges is all in a day's work. Anyhow, we are seeing somecountry, and the lizzie is going fine."
For several miles it was downhill and around many hairpin turns. Thenmany small streams were crossed and followed. Several times the sunseemed to set, only to reappear again through a cleft in the hills.Where the terrain was level enough, hundreds of jack rabbits wereseen. They were not the nervous, string-halt jacks of the prairies,but the smaller black-tailed variety.
And then they came to a store and filling station. "Well of all theplaces for a filling station," exclaimed Davy. "Many times I've seen'em located at places where there was little business, but I neverbefore saw one located where there was absolutely no business. What'sthe big idea?"
"He is probably like another fellow I know," answered Welborn. "Hewanted to get somewhere, where he wouldn't see anyone. But at that, hedoes some business, seemingly as much as he wants."
More gas was taken on, and the reserve tank filled.
"Adot is on ahead about eight miles, but we turn here for the finaldash."
The final dash was but a creep. Except for the bridge over RippleCreek, the roadway was just a trail. The sun had gone down for good.The lights, none too good, revealed little of the hazards. It was along, steady grind, mostly uphill. At last a light appeared ahead. Adog barked. A lantern shone. Welborn turned the car through a gate."Gillis Station," he called out to the midget who had remained veryquiet.
"Have them drive up next to the house," a woman's voice called fromwithin. "We will throw a canvas over the trailer. They will stay heretonight. It's too cold to stay in a house that has had no fire."
"There's your orders, Welborn. Drive right over here next to thechimney. Howdy, Mr. Lannarck, you and Welborn get out and limber upfor there's prospect for a fine supper." It was Gillis speaking as heaided Davy out of the cab.
"I am Davy to you folks," said the little man as he stamped around tolimber up from the long confinement. "You are Mrs. Gillis, I know, andyou are Landy, aren't you? Will I fit that hoss that the girl owns?"
"You are about a half-hand short right now," the old man chuckled,"but after a few hikes up to Pinnacle Point, you should fit thatlittle hoss jist like a clothespin fits the line."
It was a fine supper. There was also a home-made high chair that justfit Davy's needs.
"Before I go to bed," said Davy earnestly and firmly, "I am going towrite down that supper menu and send it to poor old Lew and Jess, whoare wearing out shoe leather trying to find a restaurant where thesteaks aren't made out of saddle skirts and the potatoes and thecandle grease have parted company. Lemme see, there was fried chickenand the best cream gravy I ever tasted, mashed potatoes, creamed peas,fluffier biscuits than those birds ever saw, two kinds of jelly,strawberry preserves, some other preserves, and apple pie with whippedcream on it.
"A long time ago--it was my first year in vaudeville--Mr. Singer gavehis midget performers a dinner at one of the celebrated New Yorkrestaurants, I think they called the place Shanley's, a swell placewith a private dining-room, lots of waiters, food in courses. Well,that big feed would be a tramp's handout compared with this dinnertonight." Davy was either talking to himself or was trying to interestWelborn in the conversation as the two were undress
ing by the light ofthe kerosene lamp in Mrs. Gillis' spare room. Welborn seemed notinterested. He was soon in bed and snoring.
"Feathers, by golly," muttered Davy as he snuggled down deep in thebed.
David Lannarck, Midget Page 4
