A Guest at the Ludlow, and Other Stories

by Bill Nye

  A JOURNEY WESTWARD

  V

  I once visited my old haunts in Colorado and Wyoming after about sevenyears of absence. I also went to Utah, where spring had come in the richvalley of the Jordan and the glossy blackbird, with wing of flame,scooted gaily from bough to bough, deftly declaring his affections rightand left, and acquiring more wives than he could support, then clearinghis record by claiming to have had a revelation which made it all right.

  One could not shut his eyes to the fact that there was great real estateactivity in the West that spring. It took the place of mining and stock,I judge, and everywhere you heard and saw men with their heads togetherplotting against the poor rich man. In Salt Lake I saw the sign, "Drugsand Real Estate."

  I presume it meant medicine and a small residence lot in the cemetery.

  In early days in Denver, Henry C. Brown, then in the full flush andvigor of manhood, opened negotiations with the agent of the Atchisonstage line for a ticket back to Atchison, as he was heart-broken andhomesick. He owned a quarter-section of land, with a heavy growth ofprairie dogs on it, and he had almost persuaded the agent to swap him aticket for this sage brush conservatory, when the ticket seller backedgently out of the trade. Mr. Brown then sat him down on the sidewalk andcried bitterly.

  I just tell this to show how easily some men weep. Atchison is atpresent so dead that a good cowboy, with an able mule, could tie hisrope to its tail, and, putting his spurs to the mule, jerk loose theentire pelt at any time, while Brown's addition to Denver is worthanywhere from one and a half to two millions of dollars. When Mr. Brownweeps now it is because his food is too rich and gives him the gout. Hesold prairie dogs enough to fence the land in so that it could not blowinto Cherry Creek vale, and then he set to work earnestly to wait forthe property to advance. Finding that he could not sell the property atany price, he, with great foresight, concluded to retain it. Some men,with no special ability in other directions, have the greatest geniusfor doing such things, while others, with superior talent in other ways,do not make money in this way.

  A report once got around that I had made a misguess on some property.This is partly true, only it was my wife who speculated. She had neverspeculated much before, though she had tried other open air amusements.So she swapped a cottage and lots in Hudson, Wisconsin, for city lots inMinneapolis, employing a man named Flinton Pansley to work up the trade,look into the title, and do the square thing for her. He was a real goodman, with heavenly aspirations and a true sorrow in his heart for theprevalence of sin. Still this sorrow did not break in on his business.Well, the business was done by correspondence and Mr. Pansley onlycharged a reasonable amount, she giving him her new carriage toremunerate him for his brain fag. What the other man paid him fordisposing of the lots I do not know. I was away at the time, and havingno insect powder with which to take his life I regretfully spared him tohis Bible class.

  _Frogs build their nests there in the spring and reartheir young, but people never go there_ (Page 45)]

  I did send a man over the lots, however, when I returned. They were notreally in the city of Minneapolis, that is, they were not near enough toworry anybody by the tumult of the town. In fact, they were in anothercounty. You may think I am untruthful about this, but the lots arethere, if you have any curiosity to see them. They are not where theywere represented to be, however, and the machine shops and gas works andcourt-house are quite a long distance away.

  You could cut some hay on these lots, but not enough to pay the intereston the mortgage. Frogs build their nests there in the spring and reartheir young, but people never go there. Two years ago Senator Washburnkilled a bear on one of these lots, but that is all they have everproduced, except a slight coldness on our part toward Mr. Pansley. Hesays he likes the carriage real well, and anything he can do for us inthe future in dickering for city property will be done with an alacritythat would almost make one's head swim. I must add that I havepermission to use this information, as the victim seems to think thereis something kind of amusing about it. Some people think a thing funnywhich others can hardly get any amusement out of. What I wonder at isthat Pansley did not ask for the team when he got the carriage.

  Possibly he did not like the team.

  I just learned recently that he and the Benders used to be very thick inan early day, but after awhile the Benders said they guessed they wouldhave to be excused. Even the Benders had to draw the line somewhere.

  Later I bought property in Salt Lake. Not a heavy venture, youunderstand. Just the box-office receipts for one evening. I saw itstated in the papers at $10,000. Anyway, I will let that go. That isnear enough. When I see anything in the papers I ask no more questions.I do not think it is right. Patti and I have both made it a rule to putin at least one evening as an investment where we happen to be. We arealmost sure to do well out of it, and we also get better notices in thepapers.

  Patti is not looking so well as she did when my father took me to seeher in the prime of her life. Though getting quite plain, it costs asmuch to see her as ever it did. Her voice has a metallic, or ratherbi-metallic, ring to it nowadays, and she misses it by not working inmore topical songs and bright Italian gags.

  I asked her about an old singer who used to be with her. She said: "Hewas remova to ze ocean, where he keepa ze lighthouse. He learn tohimself how to manage ze lighthouse one seasong; then he try by himselfto star."

  Now, if she would do some of those things on the stage it would pay herfirst rate.

  When I was in Wyoming on that trip I met many old friends, all of whomshook me warmly by the hand as soon as they saw me. I visited theCapitol, and both houses adjourned for an hour out of respect to mymemory. I will never again say anything mean of a member of thelegislature. A speech of welcome was made by the gentleman from Crookcounty, Mr. Kellogg, the Demosthenes of the coming state. He madestatements about me that day which in the paper read almost as good andtruthful as an epitaph.

  Going over the hill, at Crow Creek, whose perfumed waters kiss thelivery stables and abattoirs at Camp Carlin, three slender SarahBernhardt coyotes came towards the train, looking wistfully at me as ifto say: "Why, partner, how you have fleshed up!" Answering them from theplatform of the car, I said: "Go East, young men, and flesh up with thecountry." Honestly and seriously, I do think that if the coyote wouldchange off and try the soft-shell crab diet for a while, he would pickright up.

  When I got to Laramie City the welcome was so warm that it almost wipedout the memory of my shabby reception in New York harbor last summer,on my return from Europe, when even my band went back on me and gotdrunk at Coney Island on the very money I had given them to use inwelcoming me home again.

  Winter had been a little severe along the cattle ranges, and deceasedcattle might be seen extending their swollen carcasses into the bright,crisp air as the train whirled one along at the rate of seven to eightmiles per hour. The skinning of a frozen steer is a diverting andunusual proceeding. Col. Buffalo Bill, who served under Washington andkilled buffalo and baby elephants at Valley Forge, according to anItalian paper, should put this feature into his show. Maybe he will whenhe reads this. The cow gentleman first selects a quick yet steady-goingmule; then he looks for a dead steer. He does not have to look very far.He now fastens one end of the deceased to some permanent object. This isharder to find than the steer, however. He then attaches his rope to thehide of the remains, having cut it with his knife first. He next startsthe mule off, and a mile or so away he discovers that the hide isentirely free from the cold and pulseless corps.

  Sometimes a cowboy tries to skin a steer before the animal is entirelydead, and when the former gets back to the place from which he waskicked, he finds that he has a brand new set of whiskers with which tosurprise his friends.

  The Pacific roads have greatly improved in recent years, and though theydo not dazzle one with their speed, they are much more comfortable topass a few weeks on than they were when the eating-houses, or many ofthem, were in the hands of people who cou
ld not cook very well, but whomade a great deal of money. Now you can eat in a good buffet-car, or afirst-class dining-car, at your leisure, or you can stop off and get agood meal, or you can carry a few hens and eat hard-boiled eggs all overyour neighbors.

  I do not think people on the cars ought to keep hens. It disturbs theother passengers and is anything but agreeable to the hens. Closeconfinement is never good for a hen that is advanced in years, and thecigar smoke from the rear of the car hurts her voice, I think.