9055
BOUT TWO WEEKS [47] after Vance Gilder arrived in Butte City, he noticed
one morning that everybody was talking about a new town, and each was
asking the others what they thought about it. Glancing at the hotel
register, he saw the name, Homer Winthrop, of Waterville, Idaho.
In looking over the Butte City Miner and the Inter-Mountain Blade, both
healthy dailies and well edited, he was somewhat astonished to find a
full-page advertisement in each of the papers, setting forth in blazing
splendor the great Thief River Valley, and signed by Homer Winthrop
as agent, announcing that he would be at the Mercury Hotel for a short
time, and inviting those who were interested in investing a little money
in a purely agricultural city, to come early and “get in on the ground
floor.”
The advertisement represented Waterville as being in the midst of the
great Thief River Valley, with the largest water power in the country,
surrounded by an agricultural district of two million acres of the
richest land the sun ever shone down upon. He termed the new town of
[48] Waterville the “City of Destiny,” and said the price of town
lots would quadruple in a few years’ time.
Vance was at once interested. “Here,” said he to himself, “is a
genuine town boomer, and as the fellow is stopping at this hotel, it
will be an easy matter to learn just how this boom business is operated.
It will make an excellent article for the Banner.”
Accordingly, about eleven o’clock that forenoon he called to see the
irrepressible town boomer and hear what sort of a marvelous story he had
to tell about Waterville.
8056
He was quickly admitted into a reception room by a young gentleman who
assured him that Mr. Winthrop would soon be at leisure, and begged him
to be seated, calling his attention to the numerous maps on the walls,
one of which covered nearly the entire side of the room.
Winthrop’s young assistant seemed to know his business, and at once
commenced the preliminary skirmish of interesting Vance in the great
Thief River Valley, and especially town lots in Waterville; but as Vance
did not evince any inclination to purchase, the young fellow endeavored
to so impress him by calling his attention to the advertisements in the
morning papers. Every once in a while he would tip-toe over to the
door where the great town-boomer, Homer Winthrop, was holding a private
conversation with a would-be purchaser. He would put his ear to the
keyhole and listen for a moment, and then come tip-toeing back and
assure Vance Mr. Winthrop would soon be at leisure.
Presently the door opened and a gentleman in miner’s garb came out,
and Vance was immediately shown in. As he entered the private room of
Homer Winthrop, he involuntarily paused to study, if but for a moment,
the face of the man who had arrived in Butte City late the night before,
and now had everyone in the place agog over the prospects of a new town
that had just been laid out on paper in the Thief River Valley.
Homer Winthrop, with all the easy grace of a Chesterfield, motioned his
visitor to a seat, pushing a box of very superior Havanas toward him,
and invited him to join him in burning a weed. He was a man above the
average height, inclined to be rather slender, and possessed a rather
good looking face, beaming with good nature and apparent frankness;
a pair of intelligent dark eyes that laughed and smiled with as much
expression as the face, changeable, however, into intenseness and
earnestness seldom met with; a broad, intellectual forehead; a rather
square chin, indicating great determination of character. To this add
a luxuriant head of dark hair, and moustache, otherwise a clean-shaven
face, and the reader will have a fair idea of his appearance.
He was [49] evidently an adept in reading human nature, and knew his man
on sight; had seen much of western life—and yet it required no second
interview to discover in him the polished manners and easy grace of one
who has seen much of refinement and culture. He could have entered into
the gaieties of a reception in a Fifth Avenue mansion with as little
effort as he had [50] stirred up a city of 50,000 people in a few hours
over the magnificent prospects of a new town that was just budding into
existence.
0058
Vance accepted the proffered cigar, and they easily engaged in
conversation. They discussed the great out put of ore from the mines of
Butte City, and the wonderful development of the western country during
recent years; the magnificent mining properties that had been opened up;
and, in fact, nearly everything except Waterville and the great Thief
River Valley. Homer Winthrop with the skill of a tactician, narrated
incidents and legends of different miners who had devoted a lifetime
in searching for the precious metal and finally “struck it rich” in
some out-of-the-way, unexpected place.
Vance finally inquired in regard to the new town of [51] Waterville, and
was not a little surprised at the conservative reply he received, wholly
devoid of any enthusiasm.
“Oh,” said Winthrop, “we have a very excellent agricultural
country in the valley. We are building our new town of Waterville on the
rapids of the Thief River. It has, perhaps, the greatest water power
of any inland city in the United States. Many believe a great citv will
eventually be built at that point. We also have a great deal of capital
invested in the construction of irrigating canals, reclaiming the
valley lands from their present arid condition and converting them into
productive farms.” He also went on, in a voice full of rhythm that was
almost musical in its intonation, explaining in a modest way why many
people believed in the future of the place, touching on the numerous
natural resources that were apparent to everyone sufficiently interested
to visit the valley and see for himself.
Vance was deeply interested in Homer Winthrop’s appearance, and later
found himself charmed with his new acquaintance more than he cared to
admit, even to himself. On taking his leave, he promised to call again
the next day. As Vance stepped into the reception room, he found
it almost filled with miners and tradesmen who were waiting for an
interview’ with Mr. Winthrop, and he rightly guessed that a profitable
business was being done.
In thinking over his interview with the town boomer of Waterville,
Vance was compelled to admit that he was one of the most attractive
individuals with whom he had ever come in contact. That afternoon
he finished a letter to the Banner, but it contained no reference to
Waterville.
The result of his second interview was that he accepted an invitation
to visit the new town, which was some two [52] hundred miles distant.
Agreeable to this arrangement, they left Butte City early one morning,
and that evening reached Waterville.
Vance was not particularly attracted by the general appearance and
“lay” of the new town site. It appeared crude and unfinished, and
abounded with sage brush and sand. The waters of the rapids, however,
in their mad rushing as they went foaming down the narrows like race
horses, impressed him with a belief that nothing had been overdrawn in
regard to this great natural power, which had been idling its time away
for centuries.
9060
Homer stood by his side on the rocky bank, but said nothing.
Presently Vance looked up and said: “What a wonderful power is going
to waste in these rapids!”
“It will soon be harnessed,” replied Winthrop, “and this vast
power utilized in many manufacturing enterprises. I do not feel,” he
continued, “that I am over-estimating facts, Mr. Gilder, when I say
there is power enough here to turn every spindle in every woolen mill
and factory in the United States.”
“My only surprise,” replied Vance, “is that these waters have not
been put to use long before this.”
That night at the hotel Vance felt he was indeed “roughing it.” He
rose in the morning feeling but little refreshed, and sat down to a very
unpalatable breakfast, and immediately afterwards started with Homer
Winthrop on a drive through the valley.
The farmers were busy harvesting their grain, and on [53] inquiry they
learned the yield of wheat was from forty to seventy bushels to the
acre, and that oats yielded from sixty to one hundred bushels to the
acre. Vance was greatly astonished, and became almost enthusiastic over
the agricultural possibilities of the valley.
“Why,” said he, “Mr. Winthrop, there is no question but this is
destined to be one of the richest agricultural valleys in the world. In
my work on the Banner I have had occasion to look up statistics on grain
products, and if these farmers are telling the truth in regard to the
yield of their crops, there is no other place like it in the United
States.”
A moment after, he was chagrined to think he had given way to such
a burst of enthusiasm. It would have been better for him to remain
a listener, and allow Winthrop to grow enthusiastic in praise of the
country. Winthrop, however, took no advantage of Vance’s earnestness.
The day was a perfect one; the sun was shining, and yet there was a
cool, invigorating breeze sweeping gently down from the snow-capped
Tetons. Driving rapidly and pleasantly along, they at last found
themselves near the foot-hills on a slight elevation overlooking
the valley to the west. Alighting from the carriage, Vance followed
Winthrop’s lead, and soon they found themselves on a table rock, at a
sufficient elevation to see for many miles to the north, south and west.
For a few minutes Vance contemplated the sight in silence, and then
said: “This is indeed a grand sight.” Turning to Winthrop, he
continued:
“I have seen many beautiful sights—the Green and White Mountains
of New England, the Cumberland of [54] Virginia, and the mighty Rocky
Mountains through Colorado but standing here on the foot hills, with the
mountains rising behind us to the sky, with their hoary crests even
on this July day capped with snow, and these mountain streams, foaming
cataracts, all shimmering in the sunshine, making sweet and restful
harmony in their ceaseless flow, surpasses anything I have ever seen.
The valley itself looks like a vast green sward stretching before us
like a map. The yellow shocks of golden grain in the farming districts
are suggestive of what may be in years to come. No man can look
upon such a promising picture and not be convinced of the commercial
importance which will attend the development of this valley.”
During Vance’s outburst of ecstacy, Homer Winthrop said nothing,
merely acquiescing, in a modest way, to all Vance expressed.
Returning to Waterville, they partook of a sumptuous repast, which
Winthrop had ordered especially prepared, Consisting principally of
mountain trout, caught that morning in the Thief River.
After lunch Vance accepted an invitation to smoke and walk out over the
town site.
“This,” said Winthrop, “is block fourteen of Eagle’s addition.
You see it is less than three blocks from the center of the town. It
is one of the choicest blocks we have. If you want me to give you some
advice, Mr. Gilder, I will do so, and say, buy a few of these lots. The
price is only $100 each, and, in my judgment, they will be worth $500
before five years from to-day.”
Vance looked [55] away into the distance at the farm lands, and the
music of the sickle was borne lazily to him by a gentle breeze; then he
turned his gaze toward the river, where the roaring waters were crowding
down the rapids, proclaiming in thundering tones that Waterville was an
exception to the rule. After a little he turned to Homer Winthrop and
said: “I have been advised to keep clear of these new towns. The
person who gave me this advice told me there were a few honorable
exceptions to the rule. I must believe, from what I have seen, that
Waterville is an exception. I will take twenty-five of these lots, and
you may fix up the deed for them as soon as possible.”
The deed and abstract were delivered to Vance that afternoon, and his
check for $2,500 was duly deposited in Homer Winthrop’s pocket.
“I may have been foolish,” said Vance, “to act so hastily in this
matter.”
Winthrop turned to him, and placing a hand on either shoulder, looked
squarely into his companion’s eyes, and said:
“My belief, Mr. Gilder, is that you have acted wisely, and if you
will keep these lots five years, you will thank me for suggesting
the advisability of making the purchase. I have but one request to
make—that you will wait five years before passing judgment on my
advice.”
“Your request is cheerfully granted,” replied Vance with great
earnestness, and the two men clasped hands, and a bond of friendship was
thereby woven.