"Grandmother died before I was born. After her death, and while Father

was setting up business over here, the Craigs moved in with Grandaddy.

They were young people, brother and sister, Joe and Myrah, and they

have been there ever since. Now just who the Craigs are I do not know.

There is an old rumor among the cow hands that Grandaddy was paying

off some sort of an old romantic debt when he took them in. It must

have been a far-flung romance, for the Craigs reputedly came from up

in the Wind River district.

"At any rate there they are. Myrah is a good housekeeper and has been

a good caretaker of an aged man. Joe was never a cow man. He has a

crippled hand. In his young days he roamed the country as a hunter and

trapper. He cuts the wood, builds the fires, and runs the errands;

just a lackey boy, and is still just that.

"When Father came to Omaha this last time, Grandaddy came over here

occasionally. He would bring the keyster and pay the bills. Finally,

as Father's stay was prolonged, I persuaded Grandfather to headquarter

over here. I fixed up the front room for his convenience. He seems

contented with the fireplace and Morris chair. I could have gotten

along all right but the matter of finances bothered me. With the banks

closed, we have little money available. Even if we had a considerable

sum, I wouldn't know where to keep it. A cupboard or desk seemed an

insecure place and my financial experience has been limited to a

little money purse with small change and probably only one bill. Just

now, Grandfather's keyster is the Rock of Gibraltar, the financial

prop that is sustaining the whole structure. But what about this prop?

How strong is it? Will it outlast the depression? I don't know. I

doubt if Father would know, if he were here. He and Grandaddy might

exchange quips or gibes over the matter of sales or production but

they didn't broadcast as to funds on hand.

"Truly, I don't care to know how much money is in Grandaddy's keyster,

that's his affair. But it's irksome and tragic not to know one's

limitations. Tomorrow the whole structure may crumble and fall, for

lack of another dollar.

"My relations with Grandaddy are peculiar. He was sorely disappointed

that I wasn't a boy. He tolerates me and that's about all. To him,

women are a liability, not an asset. He regards them as a necessary

evil. If anything important is to be done, it must be done by a man.

If he is irritated by some woman's accomplishments he growls out: 'Men

fought for and won the territory and women followed in to take

possession.' And for this reason it was an easy matter to induce him

to come over here with his keyster and take charge. He just couldn't

conceive that a girl could manage a business.

"But notwithstanding his disappointments and my timidity, we've gotten

along very well. When I go away to school he always slips me a bill or

two for spending money. I could feel that he resented my buying a car,

yet he pays for my gasoline without complaint. His bias, prejudice,

and vindictiveness doesn't apply to the members of his immediate

family, but it does apply intensely and vigorously to others. It's

this peculiarity that might wreck the works at this critical time.

"It's a family tradition that Grandaddy never went in debt for

anything. If he hadn't the cash to pay, he didn't buy. But just now,

they are closing out the Bar-O ranch lands, cattle, chattels, and it's

ill repute. If Grandaddy knew of this sale, he would spend every dime

in that keyster of his, and go in debt as far as he could, in order to

own this thing that has been a life's obsession. And if he were to

spend this money, be it much or little, this B-line would be

bankrupt. I have tried to keep the news of this sale away from

Grandaddy just to avoid this catastrophe. If it comes, I am helpless."

During this recital, Adine was seated facing Davy on the footstool.

There were lines in her face that Davy had never seen, a near quaver

in her voice that he had never heard. The Sir Galahad of the Sawdust

Ring had surely found a maiden in dire distress. He wriggled on his

seat, mustering comforting words.

"Well, I don't want to offend by poo-pooing your troubles," said Davy

as consolingly as he could. "Sickness is always bad, but everything is

being done that's possible; your grandfather's acts couldn't work much

harm. You don't owe anything to anybody; your needs are few; your

expenses are at a minimum. There will be a moratorium on taxes and

your few employees would readily accept a note in lieu of cash, and

friends like Mrs. Gillis would gladly come to the rescue if quick

funds are needed. Frankly, you are a long way from Trouble River and

you should not worry about crossing it until you reach the brink.

"And that's that," said the little man, brushing his hands as if the

matter were fully settled. "Now tell me about this Bar-O thing. Is

this the same affair that Mister Potter spoke of? What's the grazing

master got to do, in folding up a ranch? Why would your grandfather

get all het up if he heard about it? Where is this Bar-O property?

Maybe in this tragic drama, there is a comedy part that I could play."

"There's no comedy in this local drama," said Adine, resuming her

challenging attitude. "And you brush the tragedies into the

wastebasket like mere dross. A while ago, you were assigning me to big

jobs in the congested areas while you were to idle around in the wide

open spaces. Just now, I would put you back in some city as a public

relations officer, a Mister Fixit, to diagnose and cure personal and

community ills. You would fix 'em or discard 'em instantly.

"But, badinage aside, I know very little of the Bar-O entanglements

and complications. It's an old story. Grandaddy knows all about it but

he doesn't talk. There are few facts and many rumors. For three

generations it's been a sort of a gnaw-bone, to be dug up and chewed

on when there's nothing else. It's a musty old tradition, a sort of a

remnant of the old days, that present day newsmongers use as a

yardstick for comparisons. If a modern domestic complication breaks

out, the current gossip outmatches it by the entanglements in the

Barrow family. If it's murder, robbery, or arson, some of the Barrows

did worse and got away with it.

"Just now, some current chapters are being written. Mister Logan, the

receiver of the bank of Adot, has foreclosed a mortgage on the real

estate and seeks possession. Mister Finch, the grazing master, always

lenient and forebearing, is seeking to recover past due payments. This

may be the final chapter. Grim facts are taking the place of hearsay."

"Well, just where is this land of romantic tragedy and domestic

infelicity?" questioned Davy. "How come that the movie people haven't

taken it over to fit their verbiage: thrilling, stupendous, smashing,

wondrous, and so forth?"

"Well, if the movie people have as much trouble getting on the

property as the sheriff and Mister Finch are having, they wouldn't get

a very clear picture and the story would be limited to their own

misfortunes. Up to now, old Hulls Barrow has stood 'em off with a gun.

They don't want to kill him and they can't get possession.

"Now this Bar-O ranch is just over the hogback, south of us. There is

no road, just a trail over the ridge. The Barrows use the other road.

I don't know how big it is. The surveys in these hills stay in the

valleys; the lines run from point to promontory. The units are miles,

not rods. Tranquil Meadows, a fine area of grassland, is just south of

the Bar-O. Had the Silver Falls project been a success, the government

would have done the same with the Meadows tract. A road blasted

through the hills would have connected the two tracts.

"Old Matt Barrow was one of the early settlers. Grandfather's feud

with him had early beginnings. I don't think it was personal, for they

rarely met. Grandaddy was outstanding as a law enforcer and here was a

petty offender right under his nose. Barrow had no cattle brand until

they made him use one. He was uneducated, couldn't spell his own name,

and his name, in the records, is spelled in several ways. He had no

fences and would employ any misfit or doubtful that came along. He

seemed to prey on one side of the ridge and sell on the other. But in

all the years he escaped conviction of even a minor offense. In an

early day, a lone prospector was missing. Everybody had ideas, but no

evidence. Dan Hale's stacks were burned. No evidence. And so it ran

through the years.

"Barrow raised two boys. This Hulls, who is standing off the law with

a gun, and Archie, who disappeared in about a year after Maizie came.

The boys surely must have had a mother, but there is no record or

rumor of a death or burial. The same is true of old Clemmy Pruitt, who

went there to live. Old Matt Barrow must have maintained a private

cemetery and conducted the funerals.

"The boys, Hulls and Archie, grew up to be old bachelors. They carried

on in about the same fashion as the old man. Maybe they visited the

settlements and got drunk oftener than he did, but the Bar-O continued

as a mystery and a sore spot in a neighborhood that was struggling up

from primitive ways." Adine paused to chuckle a bit at the midget's

interest in the recital. The little man's eyes were glued on the

speaker, he missed never a word.

"You are marveling how I know so much about a thing that is based on

hearsay and rumors," continued the narrator as she pointed to a

manuscript on the table. "There are my notes for my thesis, 'Social

Work in Rural Communities.' It's full of notes and comments on the

rumors and hearsay about the Barrow family. In every community the

exception to the rule is played up as the feature story. In

Pittsburgh it's steel; in Boston, the Back Bay district gets the

headlines; in Charleston, it's the Colonial homes that are featured.

The mine-run folks get no mention. Here in Henry County, it's the

Barrow family. In my notes, I simply list 'em as rumors, letting the

reader be the judge. And now, let's get along to the final chapter.

"Maizie came to the Barrows about ten years ago. Where from, nobody

knew, but there were many unconfirmed rumors. It was given out that

her last name was Menardi. Whether this was her family name or

acquired by marriage, was not stated. Maizie took over--house, corral,

and ranch. She made but few changes in the material things, but the

two old bachelors and the occasional cow hands were certainly speeded

up. Old Jeff Stoups, who had been a retainer since the days of old

Matt, quit. 'A woman boss is bad enough, but a hellion is wu's,' was

Jeff's statement.

"I have never seen Maizie in all these years. She is rarely away from

the Bar-O. Her public appearances are limited to a few rare visits to

the stores and a few days spent in court. Mr. Phillips, on her first

visit to the drygoods store, described her as dazzling and imperious.

Mrs. Phillips describes her as being near thirty years old, tall,

rather graceful, regular features, a perpetual sneer, coal-black hair

and a coppery skin never seen on another. Her dress was normal, with

few adornments. She was bareheaded, wore mannish gloves, and sported

large circlet earrings. She differed little in appearance from other

women; her voice was low and deep; she could read. She bought books

and magazines.

"Our Charley Case (the comedians around the stables call him

Flinthead) furnished the caricature of the lady. He was coming back

from Grandaddy's south pasture and rode the trail past the Bar-O to

see what he could see. He pictured Maizie as wearing overalls, a man's

shirt with the tail out, a big slouch hat, and buckskin gloves. She

was directing Jeff Stoups about digging a post hole.

"And then came an added feature to the strange personnel. About a

month after Maizie's arrival, a young man was occasionally seen around

the Bar-O. He was neither cow hand nor laborer. His status was that of

a constant visitor. He quartered with the family, if Hulls, Archie,

and Maizie would be called a family, instead of living at the

bunkhouse. Old Jeff referred to him as a dude, but the comment applied

to mannerisms rather than clothes. He dressed as a townsman; he

frequented the poolroom and Gatty's doggery. He announced his name as

Steve Adams, said that he was Maizie's nephew. He played a fancy game

of pool and drank in moderation.

"Questioned by the curious, he talked freely but always about places

and conditions elsewhere. He knew nothing about local affairs. That

summer he made frequent trips. On his return he would report having

been to Chicago, Kansas City, Denver. A later checkup revealed that he

was telling the truth. And these truthful stories were exasperating.

They explained nothing. The Bar-O, with its mixed up domestic

complications, was still an isolated enigma.

"That fall was the time of the great train robbery. The event occurred

at the same time as the local raid on Gatty's Quart Shop. The world

news was minimized by the local affair. We gave it little thought. In

the week following, several cattle men headquartered here and at

Grandaddy's. They inspected several herds to include the Bar-O outfit.

And later still, they raided the Bar-O premises. They were railroad

detectives, posing as cattle buyers. They were too late. They got

nothing but some bits of evidence that the train robbers had used the

Bar-O as a hangout. Maizie explained to the detectives and sheriff

that the strangers represented themselves as mineral prospectors. They

worked in the hills in the daytime. They left in the evening following

the cattle inspection. She reported that her nephew, Steve Adams, was

in Chicago, had been there for several weeks. A check up revealed that

this was true.

"A further check up revealed that these strangers had stayed all

night at the Unicorn Ranch near Northgate. Abel Sneed, the Unicorn

boss, as a matter of precaution went through their 'war bags' while

they slept. He found nothing unusual, surely no money.

"What became of this giant sum that was blasted out of the safe after

wounding the messenger? Neither the detectives nor anyone else ever

found a trace of it. But a further enigma was added to the mystery

when a month later Archie Barrow, the younger brother, came to the

Records office and made a deed of his undivided share in the Bar-O

lands to his brother Hulls. Archie made the statement that he was

through, was leaving for the Northwest, and that he would not return.

"Hulls Barrow surely didn't get the Express Company's money. A year or

two later Maizie brought him to town to give the bank a mortgage to

secure funds to defend Steve Adams, charged with murdering Allie

Garrett. Maizie hired a firm of Denver lawyers and the case went

through all the complications of venue, trial, and appeal.

"This trial was the community's biggest event, although it had origin

in a barroom brawl. During its progress, business was suspended while

the public swarmed in, hoping that the truth of the Barrow mysteries

might be revealed. The public was disappointed. Steve Adams never took

the witness stand, although many thought he had an even chance to

convince a jury that he was not the aggressor. The prosecutor was

materially aided in the case by Judge Griffith of Laramie. There was

no record as to who paid Judge Griffith, but Grandaddy was highly

gratified that the accused got a ten-year sentence. He was one man in

the community that knew of Griffith's ability as a prosecutor.

"And now that old mortgage is being foreclosed. The Bar-O is on the

market at a forced sale. If Grandaddy knew about it, he wouldn't sleep

until he owned it. If he were ten years younger he would go over there

and shoot it out with Hulls Barrow for the possession. And he needs

more land about as badly as he needs ten thumbs on one hand. He

already owns all that joins his, his holdings envelope the Bar-O on

three sides. He might covet the grazing rights in the Tranquil Meadows

district, but two of our winter grazing meadows will lay idle this

winter and our fifty ricks of hay are about four times more than we

can use.

"Really, Grandaddy doesn't want more land, wouldn't buy other

adjoining land, but he would spend every available cent to get rid of

the Barrows. I have two slender, lingering hopes. First, if he does

find out about the sale and buys it, that there will still be money

left in the keyster. And secondly, if he should buy it, I hope I can

persuade him to sell it to some first class, reputable rancher.

Someone with a family with whom we can be neighborly and the men folks

can exchange work in the busy season."

"How much is this mortgage thing?" questioned Davy, as the lengthy

story seemed near the end. "What's due the grazing master? How many

cattle are they running? When is this sale? Who can I see about the

details? Maybe I could find somebody to take over. And anyhow, don't

you worry about expense money. Mrs. Gillis has enough cash-on-hand to

take care of all of us, unless this panic grows into a financial

cyclone."

"Mister Potter, out at the stables, knows most of the details. Mister

Finch and a deputy sheriff were here this morning, talking it over

with him. As I understand it, Mister Logan, the bank receiver, bought

the land at the sale, but it seems that a bank receiver can't hold the

land, he must sell it to make cash assets. Mister Logan has the bank's

affairs in good shape, except for this item, and it's got him badly

worried. Just now, he thinks it would have been better to have sold

the note and mortgage to someone and let the buyer take the grief of

getting possession. Anyhow, talk to Mister Potter, he has the answers

to most of your questions. See him, by all means," urged Adine Lough

as Davy prepared to join the impatient Landy standing at the door.

11

"We've got a lot of work cut out for us," said Davy as he and Landy

walked down the drive to the stables. "I want to talk to Potter, but I

don't want to show too much interest. I want to get some information

about this Barrow resistance that's got 'em all stirred up. How big is

this Bar-O ranch anyhow? How much money does this receiver gent need

to have to get in the clear? How much is owed on the grazing

allotment? And how come that a sheriff's posse can't depose one old

man?"

"Old Jim and I were jist talkin' about this same thing," said Landy as

they paused at the yard gate.

"Does Mr. Lough know about it?" exclaimed the astonished midget.

"Adine didn't want him to know! Who tipped it off to him?"

Landy chuckled as he fingered the gate latch. "Old Jim's been 'round a

right smart time, en he don't confer with young women on business

matters. He read the leetle fine print legal ad in the papers en he

sent his handyman, Joe Craig, to Logan, the receiver gent, en got all

the details."

"Does he want the ranch?" questioned Davy.

"Naw!" scorned Landy. "Old Jim says hit will be eight years before the

ranchin' business can git back on hits feet, en by that time he'll be

moulderin' dust en dry bones. Old Jim's still harpin' on that funeral

business. Now he plans to hold a big barbecue en send out invitations.

Jim's got the money all right, but he wants to spend hit on a big,

spread-eagle funeral."

"Adine should know about this. It will save her a lot of worry," said

Davy, and he hastened back to the house. Presently he rejoined his

companion, who was watching a party of horsemen coming down the lane

back of the stables.

"Looks like a retreat," was Landy's comment. "I don't see eny scalps

a-hangin' on their spears."

"How big is this Bar-O affair, how many acres?" questioned the little

man.

"They don't measure in acres," said Landy, still watching the

approaching party. "Old Jim says hit's about eight sections, four wide

and two deep."

"How big is this judgment? How much money would this receiver and

grazing master have to have to get 'em in the clear? What's the

friction that they can't get these resisting parties to see the

inevitable?"

"Thar's Logan en Finch, with Flinthead en Hickory," exclaimed Landy,

as the horsemen approached the far gate. "She's a water-haul. Old

Hulls has stood 'em off ag'in. Now about yer questions. If ya would

put' em through the chute, one at a time, 'stead of pushin' 'em up in

droves, I could answer better. On the money question, I git this from

old Jim. He gits hit from Joe Craig, en he got hit from Logan, so I

guess hit's right. The original note was three thousand dollars. They

overdrew en added some. The int'rest en costs runs hit to forty-two

hundred. The grass bill is less'n three hundred. The whole biz is near

forty-five hundred."

"Why, a little performing elephant is worth that!" scorned the midget.

"The script of a good vaudeville act would sell for twice as much.

What's the matter with the local moneychangers? What's the whole thing

worth anyhow? Why doesn't some diplomat wheedle old Hulls off? And

why--"

"How much is yer little elephant earnin' now, eatin' his head off in

winter quarters?" interrupted Landy dryly. "Whar would ye show yer

vaudeville act with the show places all closed? Hit's the same here en

all over.

"Ef I was a young man, I'd take a fling at this thing," said Landy

soberly. "She's wuth about ten times the amount asked. Alice has a

leetle money, not that much maybe, en she's purty tight, yit hit might

be done. Old Jim Lough is cautious and reliable, but he's set the

date of the comeback too far off. Cattle is gittin' scarcer every day

and people must eat. I'm too old to mess in, but a youngster could

take over en double his money in five years. In ten years he'd be

asking ten times the price he'd paid. But with the banks closed en

investors in a financial stampede, five thousand dollars can't be

picked outen the sage...."

"Why, Landy! I can have five thousand dollars here in five days,"

interrupted Davy. "If there was any way to move Hulls and Maizie out,

I would deal with 'em before they dismounted." Davy waved his hand in

the direction of the horsemen that had stopped at the farther corral

to inspect the weaned calves.

"Hulls en Maizie woulda been out long ago if they'd quit snoopin'

around and let Hulls peddle a few cows to git money to travel on. I've

got a musty but reliable tip Hulls is itchin' to go. Hit's too long a

tale to tell without stim'lants, but Archie has sent fer Hulls en

Maizie, wants 'em to come en he'p him with a roomin' house down in

Arizony, whar they're a-buildin' a big dam, en things are boomin'.

Hulls is shore plannin' a git-away. He thinks he can drive through en

take some plunder with him. He's traded off his ridin' hosses fer

harness critters. He's contracted Ike Steele fer a light spring wagon.

With a little money in his pocket, Hulls is ready. You buy this thing,

Son! Slip Hulls a hundred en he's out en gone.

"Anyhow, let's listen to their talk. They've finished another failure

en are worried. Sass 'em if ye want to, en kid 'em out of the hundred

if ye can," was Landy's final caution as the party of horsemen

dismounted and loitered to hear Potter and Landy's caustic comments

before going to their car, parked outside the gate. Landy introduced

Davy as a newcomer.

"Ye should have had my podner here with ye this mornin'," badgered

Landy. "His size en power mighta skeered Hulls en made him quit."

Logan laughed as he pictured the midget in a contest with shaggy Hulls

Barrow. "Maybe we could deal with Hulls," he said, "if we could get

him away from the woman. If your young friend has a way with women,

could lure Maizie out of hearing for a few moments, we could sure use

him."

"Well, I've never won any medals in contests for women's favors," said

Davy, "but I've found that a bouquet of flattery sometimes helps. Have

you tried the Rose-Chrysanthemum method?"

"That's what we were trying today," said Logan resignedly, "but

instead of roses and posies it turned out to be brickbats and

cabbages. You see, we left the sheriff at home and took along the men

from here, hoping to get past the guard line and count up what cattle

is left on the place. But it was no use. The yard fence was the

deadline. Maizie was right at Hull's elbow, commanding her one-man

army to fire at will. Not being armed, we fell back to consolidate

losses instead of gains. Have you any suggestions or plans?" Logan's

reply and question was directed at Landy. Like others, in their first

contact with midgets, he was giving Davy the status of a child. He

could not credit him with experience or expect counsel from that

source. Landy's reply was not comforting.

"Wal, hit does look like a couple o' killin's en the expense of two

funerals 'fore ye can git action. Old Matt, the daddy of 'em, is

reported as havin' a private graveyard, scattered eround somewhar. Hit

might come in handy in this emergency. In yer gaddin' around have ye

ever seen enything like hit?" concluded Landy, turning to Davy.

"I never did!" said the midget emphatically. "It's got more

entanglements than the time Solly Monheim took the bankrupt law to

escape bankruptcy. That's the way Solly explained it after his show

went on the rocks at Lincoln. And anyhow," he added to Logan, "why

don't you peddle the thing to someone else and let them take the grief

and do the slaughtering?"

"There's no slaughtering, as you call it, involved," said Logan with

much dignity. "It's a lawful proceeding. If anyone is killed it will

be done legally and in due process of enforcing the law."

"So you left the law out of it, left the sheriff at home, and went

prowling on your own. If the old belligerent had cut down on one of

these cow hands this morning, everything would have been legal and

orderly?"

Davy's sarcasm struck home. Logan's face flushed. He realized that he

was talking to an adult, not a child. He resented the criticism. But

for the fact that the little man was a friend of Landy Spencer he

would have made a harsh reply or ignored him entirely.

"Well, just what is your interest in the matter?" he questioned. "I

don't see your name on the list of bank stockholders. Maybe you are

kin to the Barrows, sort of looking after their interests?"

"No, I am not related to the Barrows. Never had the pleasure of ever

seeing one of 'em. I don't know where they live, couldn't find the

place without a guide. Wouldn't know how big it was after I'd seen it.

I'm just an innocent bystander with big ears and a lot of curiosity.

There is a rumor abroad that the ranch is in the hands of a receiver,

that it's for sale, that the receiver is having some trouble about

possession. If I could get just a few facts and find this receiver,

I'd make him a proposition to buy it 'as is,' as the auctioneers

sometimes say."

"You have never seen the ranch?" questioned the astonished Logan. "You

would bid sight-unseen for a property that you don't know where it's

located--would accept a deed without possession? Young man, you need a

guardian."

"I had one once," retorted the midget, "and in the eight months of his

management he turned over quite a lot of money to me, enough to gamble

on, to buy a block of blue sky or a pig in a poke. Maybe there's

enough to make a bid on a ranch, a property with a crazy man on it,

armed with a gun and threatening to shoot intruders. If you are the

receiver, I want to make a bid for the Bar-O ranch, as it is."

"No bids are solicited," said Logan severely. "The judgment is for

forty-two hundred dollars. I bid it in for that, and must account for

that amount. Then there are expenses and costs being added from time

to time--"

"Now you've hit center," interrupted the midget. "You've pricked the

sore spot. There are costs being added, and time being frittered, and

nothing accomplished. It might run on this way for months, and you

hoping to have the collection cleaned up and get the bank opened soon

thereafter.

"Now I'm wanting to help, wanting to get on the payroll. Here's how.

Between now and next Thursday I'll pay you four thousand dollars for a

deed to the Bar-O ranch. You make the consideration the full forty-two

hundred and show, in your report, an expense of two hundred in getting

possession. Then it's up to me to get old Shells, or Hulls, or what's

his name, to move out. It might cost me the two hundred, it might cost

a lot more; that's my lookout. Maybe the old guy won't move at all.

But in any event, I shall not resort to law, won't call the sheriff to

get killed or get action. With winter coming on and a woman mixed up

in the case, it would be too bad to set 'em out in the snow without

shelter or money."

Adine Lough, more deeply interested in the outcome than any other

person present, had come from the house to join the little party now

congregated in front of Potter's little office building. She heard

Davy's final proposition. She saw tough, seasoned old Landy Spencer

furtively reach down and pat the little man on the back.

"What about the cattle?" asked Finch, breaking the tension.

"Are any cattle left, and how many?" Davy countered promptly.

"I don't know," replied Finch sheepishly. "We didn't get to count 'em

this morning. There's probably thirty or forty old cows with unweaned

calves and a bull or two. Then there's a bunch of wild, unbranded

yearlings, probably twenty or thirty, over on that pasture by the

cliffs. He's got no feed, no hay put up, and has probably been selling

off some of the better cows and calves."

"How much are you set back in this debacle?" asked the midget,

dropping his bantering tone.

"The Bar-O ranch owes me, not the government; I have always advanced

the money. Two hundred and eighty dollars. You see," Finch hastened to

explain, "the government has an area in there that's rather

inaccessible. They've been holding it for settlement. It's more than

the Bar-O folks need, but there's no one else, unless I bring in sheep

men and open up an old controversy. So, in the years past, I've

haggled money out of the Barrows, just a little at a time, but we've

kept friendly until now. Now, it looks like I'm up against the iron."

"You're not so bad off," chuckled Davy, "you've had a fine lot of

experience. Here's my proposition on your case. If the receiver

accepts my offer of a deed without possession, I'll give you a hundred

dollars. If I get possession in the next two years, and you allot me

the grazing rights to that area, I'll pay you the balance. If I don't

get possession in that time, you can charge off the balance due. Do I

hear any takers?" said the little man, simulating the call of an

auctioneer.

"Well, I'm a taker," said Finch resignedly. "It's a rough road, but it

seems the only way. What's your reaction, Logan? Are you a taker?"

"I'm a taker, when there's anything to take. How are you to get the

money in here?" he asked of Davy. "Without a bank, we can't handle

checks or drafts. How do you plan the payment?"

"Is there a telegraph station in Adot? No? Well, that's too bad. If

there was a commercial pay station there, I could have the money here

this afternoon. As it is, I suppose I would have to have the actual

currency shipped by express to Laramie or Cheyenne. Where do you do

banking?" he asked of Logan.

"I have an account with the Guaranty at Laramie and with the First

National at Cheyenne. I hope to have our bank here opened by the

holidays."

"The holidays would be too late. Hulls might kill somebody, or

voluntarily move out and spoil the trade. Also, I'll have to have

added money--have to open an account to get funds with which to

appease Hulls or to live on, while I am working at it. I have never

been in Laramie and I nearly got killed in Cheyenne, so I'll open an

account at Cheyenne. If you say you'll trade, I'll get on the phone

and have the cash or an acceptable draft in Cheyenne as soon as the

mail can get it there."

"Well, I guess I'll trade," said Logan resignedly. "This Barrow thing

is the last outstanding debt due the bank. I hope the judge will

approve my report of the matter, so that I can get the bank opened by

Christmas. We will have to go to town and draw up a contract. Can you

go today?"

"Well, I will have to go somewhere to get on a long distance telephone

about sending the money. Where to and how much. With the winter

weather approaching, I may have to wallow through snowdrifts to get to

Cheyenne, but that's a risk incident to the business."

"We'll get you over to Cheyenne," interrupted Potter, who had shown

deep interest in the conversation, "we'll get you over if we have to

use a snow plow. Maybe you've got the magic to get this row settled.

At any rate, it's worth a trial."

"I have a telephone in my office at Adot," said Logan. "I am using the

back room of the bank as an office. I've kept the phone."

"Is there an extension on it?" asked Davy eagerly. "Yes? Fine. When I

get this banker on the phone, I want you to listen in. It's an

education to any man to hear Ralph Gaynor talk. He's the boss of the

Dollar Savings Bank in Springfield. It isn't a big bank, just a stout

one. And now all the others are looking to him for advice. Of course

he'll razz me about making a venture in these hazardous times, but it

will be worth your time to hear him do it."

"How are we to get back from Adot?" asked the midget abruptly of

Landy.

"I'll take you over and bring you back," interposed Adine Lough. "I

want to hear that man sass you over the phone, if he can get in a word

edgewise, and you on the other end of the line."

Davy laughed with the others. "Well, the parade starts promptly at

eleven, the doors to the Big Show open at one, let's git goin'," said

the little man, simulating a circus announcer.

Adine went to the house for her hat. Potter maneuvered her roadster

out to the driveway, after checking the gas and oil. Then a flushed

girl, a midget man, and an aging Nestor of other days drove away on a

mission that pleased them all.

12

The State Bank of Adot had been an important institution in an

unimportant community. It employed three people and enlarged its

chartered rights to perform many services in the little community. In

the prosperous days following the World War it added to its surplus

and paid fair dividends to scattered owners of limited shares. Its

service was appreciated by home folks; its prosperity attracted the

attention of Aaron Logan.

Logan, with limited capital and an alert mind, operated a petty loan

business. He traded for what-have-you. In the early twenties, he

exchanged his chips and whetstones for single shares of bank stock.

Arriving at a favorable status, he persuaded the bank directors to

enlarge the capital to absorb his petty loan business. In 1924, he

quit the "street" to accept a cushioned chair in the rear room of the

bank. His experience would add caution and prudence.

For, just now, the cattle business was slipping; prices were falling

below the cost of production. Home folks were not buying; the rescued

European nations forgot, as usual, their benefactor and dickered for

meager supplies of meats and grains at other marts. America's foreign

trade sank to a new low. Her thousands of merchant craft rocked

listlessly and rusted quickly in stagnant waters while the false

prophets of Mammon urged idle capital to pyramid a luring stock market

to a glorious peak and final crash.

The banks of America were the first to feel the pinch. Some waited too

long--waited to dole out to a frenzied public all available cash and

close the doors too late for solvency. But not so with the Bank of

Adot. Aaron Logan got his order for receivership before his public

went frantic and while cash was yet available. Under court order he

was proceeding to thaw out the frozen items of assets, and planned to

open the institution to those who would limit their withdrawals to

stated amounts. He made progress in these endeavors until he bumped

into the stone wall of the Barrow loan. Really, it wasn't a giant sum,

as such sums are rated in banking circles, but in the present instance

it represented the difference between opening a bank or keeping it

closed.

Aaron Logan had given the matter of this Bar-O affair much thought. He

had canvassed every available prospect. In all the community there

wasn't a person that would give a thin dime for a property with a

defiant oldster thereon, who would certainly kill or be killed if

possession was to be gained. And a killing was bad advertisement, a

poor prelude to opening a bank.

But in the very hour he planned to execute this last resort, a rank

outsider, an unknown and uncanvassed source, a little runt of a man

with more confidence and assurance than his size would warrant, was

offering to take over the ranch and assume the problem. Aaron Logan

regarded it as a slender chance--could not believe that one so small

could have earned so much--but he would take the chance. He headed his

car up Willow Street to stop at the bank's rear door. He waved Adine

to a favorable parking space.

"I will call Mr. Limeledge, my lawyer, to draw up a contract," he said

as the party of five were seated in the back room.

"Well, that's hardly necessary," said Davy. "If you jot down a memo

that you will make a deed to David Lannarck to the Bar-O ranch upon

payment, on or before October 18th, 1932, of four thousand dollars in

cash and a probable expenditure of two hundred dollars in getting

possession, and sign it, I will also sign it and it will be an

agreement. But before we do anything, I want to get on the phone to

see if I can contact Ralph Gaynor. None of you folks really know me. I

want you to listen in so that we can get acquainted. Here's the money

for the long distance call," he added. "Tell the operator that it's

OK."

Aaron Logan didn't like being told what to do, especially by a little

cocksure midget. But there was the matter of getting rid of a bad

problem. He complied with Davy's request.

"This is David Lannarck at phone fifty. I want to talk to Ralph

Gaynor, at phone BA two hundred in the Dollar Savings Bank in

Springfield. Yes, that's the state. I should have said so, for it's a

grand old commonwealth. I'll be right here for an hour."

In the lull of waiting, Aaron Logan wondered--wondered how one so

small hoped to depose one so fierce and stubborn. He would find out.

"Do you think you can get Hulls and Maizie out of there by

Thanksgiving?" he inquired politely.

"It doesn't really matter," said David languidly. "But I must try to

get acquainted with 'em; make friends with 'em if I can."

"Why do you hope to persuade 'em to get off?" exclaimed the

astonished receiver. "I've seen 'em. They're impossible."

"Maybe you didn't see 'em at their best," replied the midget quietly.

"I've never seen either of them, but I've had several descriptions

from others and this Maizie shows possibilities."

"Possibilities for what?" snorted Logan. "That woman is a she-devil

that would commit murder to gain her ends. She wouldn't listen to a

governor granting her a reprieve. And anyhow, what are her

possibilities?"

"I understand, from descriptions, that she is of the gypsy type--dark,

languid, glamorous. If she's all that, I can place her." Davy's reply

was slow and indifferent. Now he brightened up to add: "Say, when I

get on the phone, shall I tell him to send me a draft on a Denver bank

or shall I tell him to ship the cold cash by express, or wire it to

Cheyenne by Western Union?"

"Cold cash is never out of place in paying a bill, but if you have a

draft sent to the First National in Cheyenne, we can go there and make

the transfer. I need to go to Cheyenne anyhow."

"And I need some added cash," said Davy Lannarck. "I'll have 'em make

the draft for five thousand. The First National can split it as we

direct."

Davy made much of jotting down notes; Landy Spencer sat quietly, his

face immobile; Adine Lough went to the window ostensibly to dab on

make-up, but really to suppress smiles and stifle laughter. A man of

importance--a bank receiver, an arm of the court--was being kidded and

he didn't know it.

In the drive across country from the B-line ranch, the three in the

roadster planned and outlined their conduct at this proposed

conference at the bank. Landy related fully the incident as to why he

knew that Hulls Barrow and Maizie planned a quick getaway. Landy had

contacted Ike Steele only a day or two ago and Ike's story of the

wagon trade unfolded the plot. Stripped of inconsequential details,

Ike's story follows:

Ugly Collins, a former resident, was back on important business. Ugly

had left the country a decade ago, following his acquittal for petty

thieving. In his driftings about, he landed in Las Vegas. There he

contacted another former resident in the person of Archie Barrow.

Archie was in the money. He was sole proprietor of a big rooming house

in a community that was being congested with trainloads of steel,

cement, derricks, and cluttered with humanity who had come to build,

and were building, a great dam in the nearby Colorado River. Archie

needed help to carry on a business that had increased a hundredfold.

He recalled his brother Hulls, who might be useful, but he

particularly recalled the executive capacities of Maizie. She was

badly needed to prod the Mexican women in their labors of making beds

and sweeping rooms that were occupied twice daily.

But Archie knew it would be useless to write to a brother that never

went to the post office and was remote from rural deliveries. He was

happy to contact Ugly Collins. And just now, Ugly had two objectives:

one, to get away from a place where work was paramount; the other, to

get back to Adot and look after a possible inheritance. He understood

that his mother had died, leaving the little homestead that surely

should have sold for more than mere funeral expenses.

A deal was quickly made. Archie would pay train fare and Ugly would

contact Hulls and Maizie; would move the bankrupts out of trouble and

poverty to an Eldorado of prosperity. For once in his varied and

useless career Ugly performed a successful mission. Hulls and Maizie

readily agreed to the plan. They would drive through--taking with them

needed and useful plunder. Having seen Maizie, Ugly decided he would

travel back with them. All details for the trip were now completed,

except that a little more expense money was badly needed.

Landy cautioned Ike Steele not to disclose the proposed move to

anyone else. Vaguely, Landy entertained the hope that someone--just

who, he had not planned--would buy the Bar-O. Acting on a hunch, he

"touched" his sister Alice for a hundred. On the drive-in, Adine

stopped the car while Davy invoiced his available cash at sixty-five

dollars. These conspirators now planned that immediately after a

contract was signed, Landy would search out Ike Steele, give him the

hundred dollars, to be given to Ugly Collins when the party was loaded

and on their way. Ike would be paid a personal ten, if he got it done.

And these conspirators made other plans. Knowing that in the interval

of getting phone connections they would be beset with furtive

questions from a curious executive. What was he going to do with the

ranch? how did he plan to get the resisters off? and other pertinent

questions, they planned for evasive answers.

"Leave that to me," said Mr. Lannarck. "I think I can parry every

thrust, can lead him through a mystic maze of information that will

pile up a lot of useless knowledge." And the little man was getting

along very well with his assignment, as Adine polished her nose at the

window and Landy Spencer sat quietly, seeming uninterested in mere

worldly affairs.

"You were speaking of employment awhile ago," said the persistent

Logan. "You spoke of 'placing' Maizie. Do you conduct that kind of an

agency?"

"No," said Davy, still busy with his notes. "In Maizie's case, I would

have to buy out the business, plan the details of her dress and

appearance, and 'plant' her as a 'front'--a 'come-on'--for the

suckers' money."

The bewildered receiver had let the craft of conversation drift into

strange waters. Was he dealing with a moron or a maniac? Except that

this was the only bid he had ever had--the only prospect in sight--for

a deal that would open a bank, he would take the phone, cancel the

call and dismiss the conference. In desperation he would make another

try.

"Well, I don't know what you are talking about, but I do know this

Maizie woman. If these places you speak of call for a stubborn

hellion, then you've got the right party. But I would like to know

just where she could be made into a useful thing?"

"I wasn't thinking of her temperament," said Davy as he folded up his

memorandum. "She's described as the gypsy type. Such a type is

valuable when properly placed. Were you ever at Coney Island?" he

asked abruptly. "No? Well, it's a resort, a playground, down New York

way. Henry Hudson landed here, and many another Dutchman has been

'landed' and made regrettable discoveries right on this same spot. It

has a bathing beach where the gals show what they've got and fat men

flounder and cavort far beyond their capacities. Up from the beach is

the midway proper--a carnival or street fair, with bandstands and

dance platforms, peep shows, free shows, and legits. At the proper

season these places are alive with spenders. They bring in carloads of

money and take away nothing more tangible than experience. Why, Mister

Logan, a man of your talents could spend profitable days at Coney

Island in the study of financial circulation, could write a book,

entitled 'The Slippery Dollar; Its Origin, Its Travels, Its

Destination'! Some of these dollars have origin in work and sweat and

some stem from blood and tears, but all--"

"And just where in this mess would this Maizie woman belong?"

interrupted Logan desperately. "Your recital is interesting, but it

doesn't get to the point. Where and why would you place her?"

"Why, I'd place her as a 'front' down at the fortune-teller's booth,"

replied Davy quickly. "I'd either buy out--or buy in--with Tony Garci,

who has a concession, and plant Maizie right at the tent-flap as a

'come-on.' Her name would have to be Madame Tousan, or Princess

Caraza, or some such, and she would have to dress the part. Black and

red, maybe, with plastered hair and a coppery skin. A quart of rings

and bracelets on each hand and arm, horseshoe earrings, and a big

ostrich fan. Never a word of English, mind you! She'd just wave the

fan to the entrance and inner glories where Tulu Garrat, Tony's wife,

would read palms, or the crystal ball, and take the money."

Davy, too, was getting a bit anxious. He was running out of details.

He glanced at the phone, hoping for relief. None came. He rambled on.

"If I ran this fortune-telling dump, I'd lift it out of the

ten-twent'-thirt' class, to an even smacker--maybe two. I'd give 'em a

written reading with 'a hunch' in it. They all play hunches down

there. Hoss racing, stock market, numbers rackets, and such. They'd

play my hunches. If they win, I'd have wide advertisement; if they

lose, nothing said.

"Off hand, I'd say the racket was good for a 'grand' a week. Maizie

would get fifty, Tony and his wife a hundred smackers, another fifty

for the concession. In ten weeks, I could pay for the Bar-O and

have--" The telephone rang. "If that's for me," said the little man to

Aaron Logan, "get on that extension and listen to the story of a

misspent life, for I'll try to get him to tell it."

As the conversation was both spoken and heard, both are here given.

"Hello, hello. Yes, this is David Lannarck. Hello, Ralph. This is your

midget friend Davy. I'm in Adot--yes, that's what I said--what they

all say.... A dot on what? It's out of Cheyenne--a good ways out. But

I want to do business as of Cheyenne. I want you to send a Denver

draft to The First National Bank at Cheyenne for five thousand

dollars, to arrive there before the eighteenth of October."

The phone was working splendidly; even those without an earpiece could

hear the over-production.

"This is a fine time to separate a bank from assets. What are you

buying? Blue sky or a phony gold mine?"

"Neither one," said Davy promptly. "It's a ranch--with an old man on

it--with a gun, defying all comers."

"Why, I thought the old cattle wars were all over," came the reply. "I

suppose, on account of your size, you hope to slip through the guard

line."

"Naw," replied Davy, "it really doesn't matter whether the old man

gets off or stays on. It's ten sections. If things brighten up a bit,

it looks worth the money."

"Ten sections?" came the astonished inquiry. "How will you ever see it

all--you with short legs?"

"Why, I've got a hoss," said Davy proudly, "I've got the finest hoss

west of the Big River. He can do tricks too. By spring I can have him

doing stunts that will make Bill Reviere's act look like a practice

stunt."

"Well, God help poor sailors on a night like this, and midgets too.

But at that, I think you are in the right groove. Things will loosen

up; they've got to. Have your title examined carefully. See that your

grantor is responsible."

"I'm buying it from a bank receiver. It's a part of the frozen

assets," interrupted Davy. "The bank is to reopen when this is

settled."

"Now let me get this right. You want a Denver draft, sent to you, care

of the First National Bank in Cheyenne, Wyoming, for five thousand

dollars." The words were slowly said as if a memorandum was being

made. "All right. The item will go out this evening. Good luck and a

prosperous investment."

"Hold on, Ralph, just a minute. I'm in that bank that's to reopen. The

phone here has an extension. The fellow with whom I am dealing is on

that extension. No one out here knows me--I need an introduction. Will

you briefly tell 'em who I am?"

"Well, that's bad," came a laughing reply. "It might ruin everything.

But here goes. Mister Receiver, David Lannarck, with whom I am

talking, is a midget--nearly forty inches tall and about thirty years

of age. He was born here, inherited a comfortable estate that we

manage--collect his rents, pay his taxes and repair bills. We also pay

his generous church contributions and charity donations. He has never

drawn a cent from the accumulations. For the last decade I have seen

little of him. He travels extensively--in vaudeville, with circuses.

He comes back about once a year to deposit his earnings. These we keep

separately because that's the way he wants it. He writes no checks.

Simply tells us what to do, and we do it. Only once before this has he

called on us. That was a train wreck and an injury that interrupted

his routine. He phoned for us to pay bills and we paid 'em, as we are

paying this one.

"He's affable, charitable to those he likes, talks the jargon of the

circus people, and is, with all, a truthful, likeable chap. Is there

anything else, Mister Receiver?"

"Thank you, Ralph, and good-by," said Davy as he hung up.

Hastily Aaron Logan prepared a memo stating the terms of the sale.

Adine Lough made a copy. Both were signed by both interested parties,

then Davy paid Finch fifty dollars on his contract and the meeting

adjourned. Davy and Adine went to Jode's restaurant for a bite to eat.

Landy went in search of Ike Steele to post a deposit for a quick

getaway and, strange as it may seem, Aaron Logan sought the same

person and with a similar purpose.

13

Adine Lough had high rating in the community affairs of Adot. Her zeal

for higher education, her church work, and her general deportment gave

her contact with the better element that was trying to modernize--trying

to lift a community up and out of the rawness of frontier days. But if

the critics, the estimators of social standing, had seen her and her

associates on this fine October afternoon, they would have moved her

down several rungs on the social ladder.

She was in close conference with a midget, an ex-circus man, out of

work and advertised widely to give a talk at the warehouse Saturday

night! (They would hear this talk before making a final estimate.) And

Adine's other conferee was old Landy Spencer, a notorious resister of

progress, who spoke in the language of other days, whose

appearance--from battered hat to narrow bootheels--simply pictured the

undesirable past; his associates, when he came to town, were of the

rabble--the lower stratum. Very true, in other days, the bank had

given him a rating as not needing endorsers if he sought a loan. Very

true, Judge Sample had stated publicly that he would accept Landy

Spencer's word without the formalities of being sworn, but as a social

factor in the community, Landy didn't know where the social ladder was

located, let alone about reaching the lower rung. And all afternoon

Adine Lough was in close conference with such as these!

Landy returned to Jode's place sooner than he was expected. There was

a sheepish grin on his weathered face. "They beat me to hit," he said

in a low voice as Jode went back to the stove for his steak and

potatoes. (His companions were munching wafers and drinking chocolate

milk.) "Ike had already been en done hit."

Being served, and with Jode in the kitchen, the aged courier disclosed

the results of his mission. "Ye don't tell Ike what's on yer mind;

jist give him rope, git him started, en he'll come from under cover. I

went to his shop en he wasn't workin'. Seemed to be waitin'. I prodded

in, en he unfolded that he was waitin' for Logan. Our Logan, ye

understand. Hit whetted my int'rest; I prodded ag'in, en with results.

Ike said that Logan came to his shop Tuesday. He'd seen Ugly Collins

a-hangin' 'round Ike's place, en he wanted a quick move by Ugly. He

slipped Ike two new twenty-dollar bills en told him to loan 'em to

Ugly if he made a quick git-away. Ike did as d'rected. Ugly come en

got the wagon this atternoon. Promised that he'd load tonight en be on

the road by midnight.

"Well! That settled the coffee! I didn't keer to hang eround eny more.

But I did want a whit more information. Did Logan know that old Hulls

en Maizie were included? 'Naw,' scorned Ike, 'Logan didn't even know

that Ugly knew 'em--didn't know that Ugly had ever been at the Bar-O.

Logan didn't know about the wagon. Thought the forty was about right

for train fare. He jist wanted Ugly out of the country en I got hit

done,' says Ike.

"I didn't keer to meet Logan--then. I remembered that I had some boots

at Billy's fer half solin', en I slipped Ike a five spot with the

caution that he was to say nothin' in his report to Logan about who

was in Ugly's party. Ike wanted me to stay en listen to his ideas as

to why Logan wanted a quick move by Ugly, but I already had my notions

about that. I slipped away fast. But in comin' here I remembered that

I hadn't left eny boots with Billy."

Landy finished his steak and story about the same time.

"Well, do you think they will get away tonight?" asked Davy eagerly.

"Is there any way that we can hang around and find out? Why would

Logan want this Ugly party to get out of the country? Why can't we--"

"Thar ye go! Crowdin' the question-chute. Son, ye orta number 'em, en

I could answer by number. Anyhow, let's git goin'! Hit's a long ways

home--with a change of cars at the B-line, en the last lap ain't fit

fer night ridin'. We can talk while we ride. Out thar, Jode won't be

hangin' around, shufflin' the dishes en tryin' to get an earful. Let's

go."

On the way home, Adine Lough was the happy one of the trio. The

revealing incidents of the day had cleared away the threatening dark

financial cloud. Now if her father could only be brought home with the

assurance of his getting well, her cup of happiness would be

overflowing. Just now, she was planning an added chapter to her

thesis, "Welfare Work in Rural Communities." She would touch on the

subject of "Aid from Unexpected Sources," for she had experienced just

that! In the events of the day, it was revealed that a little, unknown

midget of a man, with a doubtful background, was indeed a man,

mentally, morally, and financially. Back of his cynicism--often

expressed in the jargon of the underworld--was an alert mind that

could lead an inquisitor into a maze of unaccomplishments.

Too, in said thesis, she would make some radical changes in the

paragraphs touching on "influences of pioneer habits and traits in

community upbuilding, etc." The recent conduct and tactful

accomplishments of Landy Spencer were the reasons for such a change.

Heretofore, she had welcomed old Landy as a visitor to the B-line for

the reason that Grandaddy liked him, wanted to confab and badger about

the old days. She had casually learned that Landy had had to work as a

boy, as a youth, and as a young man, that he had accumulated enough so

that he could now enjoy the play-days once denied him. Yes, she would

change her notes to say: "uncouth verbiage and slatternly dress are

often assets in gaining information and are no hindrance in granting

loyalty and devotion."

The journey home, despite the uncertainties pending, was a joy-ride

for the two. Landy, as was his wont, clutched the armrest of the car

and said nothing. Time was, when safe in a saddle, he had thrown reins

to the wind "en allowed that critter a spell of fancy worm-fence

buckin', but a-ridin' a auto wuz dangerous business."

Arriving at the B-line stables, the party paused for a final

conference. Tomorrow would be Friday. In the early hours Davy and

Landy would make a furtive visit to the Bar-O ranch to see if Ugly

Collins had carried out his plans to evacuate the resisters. "Maybe

they set fire to the house or poisoned the cattle," suggested Davy.

Landy poo-pooed the idea.

"They're on a slow train," he explained. "In that outfit they can't do

over six miles an hour. A fire would announce their malice, en a

sheriff would overtake 'em before they reached North Gate. They don't

know about cattle-pizen--thar's no loco weed around here."

Saturday was the date of the entertainment in Adot. Davy and Landy

would ride over to the B-line and go to town in Adine's roadster. In

Adot, Davy would again contact Logan and fix the date to meet him in

Cheyenne on Monday. "That check--the draft thing--will be there by

that time," was Davy's opinion. "I hope I can pry Welborn loose from

his digging and delving long enough to take me over that road again."

"You don't have to do that," interposed Adine. "I'll drive you to

Cheyenne. I'm as anxious as anyone to get this thing settled. This

Bar-O thing has been a neighborhood problem, an obsession, a thorn in

the flesh, ever since Grandaddy was a young man. I want to be a party

in removing the thorn. I'll have Joe and Myrah to look after

Grandaddy, and I'll have Mister Potter to look after Joe and Myrah and

everything will be all right.

"But you'll have to meet me at Carter's filling station," she

cautioned. "I'll have to drive through Adot and around that way. I

can't drive across the valleys and ridges as you horsemen ride them.

So we'll meet at the filling station at seven-thirty. We will be in

Cheyenne long before noon."

"Hi ya, Potter," called Landy as they were saddling the horses. "I

want you to order a set of shoes for this colt."

"I've got a set. I tried 'em; they fit. But he won't need shoes this

winter; he's better off without 'em. If a bunglin' mechanic over thar

will leave his feet alone he'll be all right till spring."

Landy regarded the gibe as irrelevant. The saddle invited. Once aboard

and before they reached the Ranty he was detailing answers to some of

Davy's questions.

"This Logan party ain't exactly crooked but thar's some noticeable

bends in his career. When they baptized him they ought to have given

him another dip. 'Course, he gits his money by pinchin' en scrougin'

en this Ugly Collins affair goes a leetle beyond the limit.

"This Ugly was borned here. His right name is Clarence, but early

someone branded him Ugly, en because he resented hit, the name stuck.

He wasn't so ugly--jist ornery. His daddy died; his mother lived on a

little place in town, up-crick from the bridge. Ugly wasn't a roarin'

success as a producer--jist idled and fuddled until he got to be a

man. Then he got indicted with others fer robbin' a little tannery

that was operatin' down the crick. This tannery was mostly out of

doors. They was charged with stealin' leather, but in the testimony it

showed that Ugly didn't steal leather--jist knives en other plunder.

He was flung loose. He left the country. That was twelve years ago. In

all these years, no one in Adot was compelled to look on Ugly Collins.

Not till last week did the public know he was alive. Even then thar

was no gineral rejoicin'--nobody killed a fatted calf.

"Now Ugly's mother died three years ago. A dear, uncomplainin' old

soul, the funeral was conducted by Romine, the undertaker, and was

attended by many. Of course Romine would have to be paid. He got Logan

to administer the estate. He had had Logan to do this in other cases.

They understood each other very well.

"They found but little personal property. Although Ann Griggs, a

neighbor, said the old lady Collins had been savin' funeral money fer

years--had it hidden in a fruit jar, no sich fund was found. The real

estate would have to be sold to pay the claim.

"Except fer Ugly, they was no heirs, en Ugly didn't answer roll-call.

By order of the court, Ugly was pronounced dead. Simmy Gordon, the

village cut-up, said hit was a cheap funeral fer Ugly en good

riddance. But Simmy was wrong, as usual. The home was sold--by fine

print--hit was bid in by Romine fer about the price of his bill and

the costs. Later Romine deeded hit to another, who in turn deeded hit

to Logan, who now owns hit, en the yearly income would pay a funeral

bill--with flowers.

"Ugly's return at this critical time rather upset Logan's plans. Hit

would interfere with his gittin' a bank opened and himself back on the

payroll. If Ugly had been flush with funds, had employed lawyer

Gregory to git Ugly's death-order rescinded, en pried into the details

of the old lady's estate, hit would have blowed the lid off. Hit would

have shore been bricks and cabbages fer Logan, right when he's

plannin' a posie shower.

"Forty dollars was none too big to fend off the disaster. But where

Logan missed the gap in the fence was that he didn't inquire as to

details. He knew Ugly come in by train. He thought the forty would be

expended in the same way."

The two reached the Gillis home as the lady was lighting the lamp and

setting out the evening meal. "Why, you and that girl must be

preparing a lengthy address," she said to Davy jestingly.

"That gal and I have surely had a busy day. We've certainly upset some

precedents, broken some rules, and maybe some laws. Your brother here

was a full participant, a co-conspirator, and was awarded the Medal of

Intrigue by Mister Potter, when the meeting closed. But excuse me,"

said the now jovial midget as he walked away. "I just can't look at

those baking-powder biscuits without grabbing one; I'm that wolfish."

During the meal, Davy invited Landy to tell of the day's happenings.

"Yer new boarder here bought the Bar-O ranch--trouble en all," said

Landy quietly. "En he's plannin' to promote the circus business by

raisin' a lot more lions, tigers, hyenas, en sich. He's got a good

start now, en he plans a glorious finish."

The news electrified the Gillises. It provoked much discussion and

required many explanations. It allowed Davy time to eat a hearty meal.

Finishing, he pushed back his chair to state some final conditions.

"And I'll not complete the final contract, not pay down a cent and

throw up the whole thing, unless Mister Landy Spencer, here seated,

pledges that he will join in with me in working the thing out to a

final victory. No, I don't mean that he's to pay out anything, I'll

pay all, but he's to say that he will stay with me, that he'll manage

the thing, plan production, hire the help, and get things going. And

we'll divide the profits. This depression can't last. Already the wise

ones are hearing the death rattle and last gasp. But it will take some

time to recover and we must be ready when the bulge comes. Maybe there

are some old cows over there that Landy says are dear at ten dollars a

head. There are some unweaned calves, and a few unbranded yearlings

that will just about pay the cost of their roundup. But that's the

foundation on which we are to build. What do you say, podner? Are you

with me?"

"In yer listin' of assets, ye haven't invoiced Maizie," said Landy.

"Early this afternoon, I heard ye pricin' her to Logan at a thousand

dollars a week. En ye haven't catalogued Hulls en the bulls, mebbe

they're wuth more than all the rest. Shore I'll he'p ye. Hit'll be a

pleasure to hear ye try to mesmerize Maizie like ye did Logan, tellin'

her of this Coony Island place en the fortune tellers. We'll go over

thar in the mornin' early en I'll watch ye hypnotize her en Hulls,

like ye did Logan. 'Course, if they're gone, that's our loss. We'll

invoice the remnants en leavin's, en take a fresh start."

Davy was early to bed but his rest was broken in trying to picture the

probable conduct of two persons he had never seen. In his dreams, old

Hulls and his threatening gun was a commonplace figure. But back of

him, and in command, was the garish image of a black-haired,

copper-complexioned virago, whose imperious death-dealing edicts

recalled his early readings of Sir Walter and his vivid picturings of

Helen, wife of Rob Roy, in her judgments of the fate of a common

enemy. He was glad that daylight came to dispel the mental mirage.

"I never saw Landy so interested," said Mrs. Gillis, as she placed

Davy's high chair at the table. "He was out feeding the horses long

before Jim did the milking, and that's unusual. Landy likes you--likes

to do the things you plan. Of course Landy has earned a rest, but

there's too many that rust out when they rest up. Landy is that kind.

He needs to be interested in something. He's had a lot of experience

in the cattle business, and with your energy and planning and his

experience, you ought to make a lot of money when this depression is

over."

"Well, I'm not so interested in the money-making as I am in making a

success out of this liability. Of course I want it to pay its own way,

pay for improved livestock, buildings, fencing, and the like. But I'm

not much interested in piling up useless money in a resisting bank. Of

course, when Ralph Gaynor comes out to visit us--he's the gent that

introduced me over the phone--when Ralph comes out, he'd like to see a

fat bank account and talk woozy stuff of safety margins, earned

increments and that crazy rot, but I yearn to show him a going

concern, a likeable thing, prideful of its upbuilding.

"Landy and I will get along all right. He's the only one of you that

sasses back, offers objections, overrules plans. He won't like it at

all if I'm out with the colt and a couple of beagle hounds chasing

jack rabbits when there's hay to put up, but that's the way we'll get

along.

"Landy will fuss if we can introduce electricity on the ranch, but he

will weaken a little when he finds that it grinds the feed,

refrigerates a whole beef, and cooks a meal without splitting

kindling. And if a little surplus money accumulates, he would totally

veto the plan of laying out a Spanish patio enclosing fine white

buildings with red tile roofs and fancy grilles--"

"Why, that would be fine!" exclaimed the listener. "Would you do

that?"

"Naw," said the midget, "but if the occasion arises, I will introduce

the subject just to see my old mentor paw around and fling dirt. It

will keep him from rusting out, as you call it."

"Do you plan moving over there--if you get possession?"

"No, I will live, or rather headquarter, with Welborn as long as he

lets me. Landy says that a rough, hazardous trail just back of our

house leads directly to the near corner of the property. It's the

route of the old proposed road to the Tranquil Meadows. We're to try

that trail this morning, and I will have to stop and tell Welborn what

I am doing. He will be surprised, but not interested. Welborn is

self-centered on getting some 'quick' money. When he gets that done

he's going to be busy using it, either to straighten out his own

financial affairs or to down or suppress some financier that has

busted in on his plans. In either event, we will lose him. Welborn

doesn't belong out here. He belongs in the jam, the crush, the mob,

where they strive only for personal gain--either in bulking up a lot

of money or acquiring personal rank or status. He's young, industrious

and impetuous; he might get it done. It's a great game, I'm told; it

engenders some joy and a lot of grief. Personally, I'd rather put in

the time handling a pup or growing a clutch of chickens."

Landy's appearance with the saddled horses interrupted the discussion.

14

The path over which Landy guided his little partner may have been an

animal trail before the days of the intrusion of the white men. It had

its beginnings in a little unnoticeable niche at the Welborn cabin. It

wound a narrow way along the face of the cliff and led down and around

to cross a quick-flowing brook that farther down was to take the name

"Mad Trapper's Fork." Halfway down, Landy pointed out that some

blasting here and a bridge there would make a serviceable

thoroughfare. Davy was fairly busy in retaining his saddle-seat as

Peaches followed old Frosty around the dangerous turns. At the halt,

and during Landy's remarks, he gazed at the towering peaks on the one

side and the yawning ravine on the other, and suggested that he,

Landy, could no doubt construct the proposed improvement some

afternoon when he was resting from his strenuous work in the hay

field.

The sarcasm was ignored. Landy searched out a convenient crossing of

the little stream. Once out of the stream bed the party was to

encounter a vast tableland of grazing ground that seemed bounded by

hills and peaks on all sides--the Tranquil Meadows.

It was Davy's time to halt the procession. As was his custom, he rode

Peaches in front of Frosty and stopped for an extended inspection.

"A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread--and Thou

Beside me, singing in the Wilderness--Oh,

Wilderness were Paradise enow!"

chanted the little man as he gazed from peak to pinnacle. "Say, Landy!

I once dreamed of this place, and I didn't leave out a detail. I was

waiting for a delayed train at Peru for a jump to Buffalo to join up a

Keith circuit. At the station there was a pestering drunk with his

'how-come' stuff and two simpering women with their 'ain't-he-cute'

rot. I was tired. I'd had a tough season. That summer, there was a big

crop of gawks and I had encountered all of 'em. I wanted to quit the

game--wanted to hide out. On the sleeper, I dreamed of this place. I

was on a horse--a big, fat ring-horse, with a pad. I rode right

through a bunch of cattle. I held on with more zeal than did old

Fisheye Gleason when he fell on the back of the hippopotamus at the

start of the Grand Entry.... Say," the midget interrupted his reverie,

"just about how far away from this Paradise Bowl is this Bar-O

hangout?"

"The Bar-O is the lid to yer Gravy Bowl," replied the Nestor. "Hit's

that line of hills to the no'th, en winds up in this crumpled mess of

hills here at the east end. This last section is called The Cliffs. If

thar's any loose yearlin's left, they'll be thar. We'll edge around

that away en then swing over to where old Matt laid out a path to the

southern settlements."

On the way to the Cliffs, Landy recounted much local history. "They

wuz wild cattle in these ravines long before the surveyors surrounded

old Matt with their lines. No one knew whar they come from nor to who

they belonged. Old Matt simply absorbed 'em, as he did anything else

that was loose. They were his foundation stock. That's why there are

so many yaller-hammers en pennariles among 'em. Once er twice old Matt

forgot to put up hay en his livestock wintered in them ravines en

pawed in the snow fer what grass they got. Hit wasn't so bad. A

cow-brute won't thrive in close quarters; they're better off with jist

a wind-break en rain-shelter. But look out when hit's calvin' time! A

cow will pick out the night of the big snow en drop her calf right in

hit. I've often wondered if the colleges that teach farmin' en sich,

ever tackled en solved that heavy problem: 'Is hit better to fret en

worry a cow by pennin' her up in a clean box-stall, er allowin' her in

cheerful contentment to go off by herse'f en have her calf in the

fringe of a mudhole at the far away corner?'"

Davy was looking about as he listened. Here was the tremendous

spectacle of which he had dreamed. It was a spoken drama in

technicolor.

Frosty pricked up his ears. Landy veered the course to the right. A

bunch of yellowish red calves were startled out of a willow clump and

turned to watch the intruders. As the horsemen rode around to the east

and north they resumed their grazing. Near the mouth of another ravine

a few more were encountered.

"There're thirty-seven of 'em," said Landy, as the party completed the

circle, "en that's about twice as many as I expected. They're in good

flesh. With plenty of hay this winter en a mite of grain, they would

do for quick feeders next fall."

"Well, you couldn't feed 'em away off out here, could you?" demanded

Davy.

"Shore!" said the expert. "There's more shelter out here than in them

propped-up stables at the Bar-O. The B-line's got about five times as

much hay as they need. We ought to be able to wheedle that gal out of

a few stacks. But haulin' hay in breast-deep snow is some job. Hit

ought to be under way right now. If old Hulls has quit out, en we git

action, I'll talk to Potter en them loafers at the B-line en try to

git a few ricks tucked away in here before snow comes. A few blocks of

salt, scattered around, will keep 'em from diggin' dirt er huntin' a

lick."

And now the inspectors turned west to follow cattle paths over an

undulating terrain for at least two miles. Here a double trail was

encountered. Landy rode for a distance in both directions looking

intently for signs.

"Ugly Collins has either lost his time-card er has traded his wagon

fer a airyplane," said the mentor. "Mebbe Maizie has delayed the

take-off to finish her war with Logan. At any rate, they haven't left

a wagon track. Let's go by the house. I'll introduce ye as a circus

man from Springfield that's visitin' en lookin'. If ya can interest

Maizie so I kin talk to Hulls private, hit will he'p a lot."

"Not me!" interposed the little man hastily, "just leave me out of

this local war. I've got a date with some church folks tomorrow night.

But I don't want to be carried in feet foremost and hear the preacher

talk about 'the many mansions and green pastures.' Isn't there some

way that we can by-pass this Maizie and her orders 'to kill on

sight'?"

"Why, I thought ya wanted to meet Maizie," chuckled Landy, "thought ye

wanted to contract her fer fortune tellin' down at that island place?

Anyhow," continued the raconteur in a serious vein, "there's no chance

fer a row. I know Hulls, I knew his daddy, old Matt. He knows I'm no

sheriff a lookin' fer trouble. He'll talk to me like a friend. I'm

jist out here a-showin' my circus friend the scenery. He'll talk to me

all friendly like, en Maizie will be tickled at yer size en talk about

circuses en sich. Speak up to her. Tell her that she belongs in this

fortune-tellin' business. Cut up a few of yer dance capers--git her

interested--en I'll find out why they ain't on the road to a getaway."

Landy turned into the double track that led north followed by a

reluctant midget. He watched the paths for signs of recent travel but

continued his recitations of local history.

"These Barrow folks ain't bad--jist ornery. Hit's due to breedin' en

custom, fer they are part Injun. Old Matt told me so, one time when I

was over here a-lookin' fer lost horses. Matt said his mother was a

Ute--full-blooded en tribe-raised. Now, Injuns don't have much regard

fer personal property. Except fer their arms en blanket all else is

jist common plunder fer anyone. The deer in the thicket, the fish in

the streams, and the birds in the air belong to the feller that gits

'em. 'Course, Matt absorbed the wild cattle, en any other cattle he

found on the loose. He didn't want any cattle brand--jist play the

game his fashion, 'finders are takers,' same as fish er wild ducks.

"Sich a plan didn't set well with the white settlers that was tryin'

to put down cattle thefts. Old Matt got a bad reputation en he didn't

try to correct hit. He matched Injun cunnin' agin the 'white laws' en

got ostracized. He raised his boys by the same standards. This Hulls

is jist dumb en ornery but Archie was smart. He l'arned to read, en

when Maizie came, he l'arned to write en cipher after he was a grown

man. If Archie got the express company's money--en hit sorta looks

like he did--he was smart enough to 'duck out' with hit. Maizie knows

that Archie is smart. She wants--

"Look thar!" he interrupted to point at wagon tracks in the dust. "Hit

looks like a getaway had been vetoed. Changed their minds," he added

as he pointed to a sharp turn in the tracks and a return to the

beaten way farther along to the north. "Now hit's anybody's guess as

to what's happened." Landy was about to dismount for a closer

examination when he again interrupted. "They went back to git a fresh

start," he exclaimed as he pointed to a two-horse wagon approaching

from between the low hills.

"Now jist keep yer shirt on," he cautioned Davy. "Yer a circuser, out

here on a visit. I'm a-showin' ye the neighborhood. Let's keep ridin'

en be surprised like." The two rode the double trail to turn out when

the wagon stopped. "Howdy, folks," was Landy's greeting.

Ugly Collins was driving. Hulls Barrow was in the seat beside him with

a rifle across his knees. Maizie was on a low chair in the rear,

surrounded by bedding, boxes, tables, chairs, and all manner of

household wares that piled high, were held in place by stakes and

stout ropes.

"Why, hit's old Landy Spencer," said Hulls as he returned the gun to

its place on his knees. "What's got ye outen the bed so early?"

"I was harassed outa bed by this pesterin' friend of mine who left the

circus at Cheyenne to come out fer a visit en to view the scenery. I

want ye to meet him, en he'p me answer his questions. Folks, meet

Mister Davy Lannarck, a circuser, that's curious to see how en whar we

live. Davy, that's my old friend Mister Hulls Barrow, en that's Mister

Collins, en you are Miss Maizie, I take hit," Landy added as Maizie

stood up to see what was going on. "My young friend here was cut down

to a boy's size in heft en stature but he shore makes up the

difference in askin' questions en in gaddin' about. When he roused me

out this mornin' to go gaddin', I planned to swing around this way en

let you all he'p me. But from the looks of things, you folks musta got

word that we were comin' en are makin' a hasty move to avoid sich a

visit."

The men may have smiled at Landy's quip but Maizie laughed aloud.

"It's the other way," she said. "You put off your visit until you saw

that we were moving; then you come, expecting to be entertained. Had

you come two weeks ago we could have helped."

"I wasn't here two weeks ago," interposed Davy. "Then we were in the

Northwest, looking for a town with enough money to pay the feed bills

and freight on a lot of circus animals. In fact, we had put in the

summer looking for such a place and never did find it."

"Well, we're going to where there's money--plenty of it," said Maizie.

"Take me along," pleaded the midget. "I haven't seen 'loose money'

since we opened the ticket wagon at Grand Park in April."

"What's this, Hulls!" demanded Landy. "Are ye shiftin' pastures?"

"I shore am!" replied Hulls emphatically. "I'm gittin' outa the

thistles en sage to whar thar's decent folks. I'm a-leavin' these

hellions to rot in their tracks while I have a few days of peace en

quiet. But don't say anything, Landy, until we git goin' en outa the

country."

"Shore I won't!" pledged Landy. "That's your business--not theirs.

Have ye laid out a considerable trip?"

"Yes, we're goin' to Nevady, down whar they're buildin' a big

water-dam. Archie's down thar; makin' money a-plenty. There's a big

stir on down thar. Everybody's a-workin' en Archie wants our he'p."

"Well, I'm sorry yer a-leavin' but I'm glad fer this chance. I've

wanted to see Archie ever since he he'ped me git them cattle across

the Ranty that time. I owe him and now I've got a chance to pay." Here

Landy searched a bill out of his billfold and handed it to Hulls.

"Tell Archie that that ought to take keer of debt en int'rest. Ye see,

I didn't have any money with me that day, en anyhow, Archie poo-pooed

the idee of pay at the time, but I always want to pay for he'p

thataway. But I never saw Archie again en I'm glad of this chance to

ease my mind."

Hulls folded the bill and put it in his pocket. He looked at the sun.

"I expect that we'd better git goin'; we've put in the whole night

a-loadin' up, en we got down here a piece en found out that we forgot

the dog en we had to go back. En say, Landy," he called as the wagon

started, "I forgot to turn them bulls out to worter. If ye go out that

way, will ye open the gate en let 'em out?"

The rattle of the wagon repressed the eager reply.

Landy resumed the way to the north; Davy waited to watch the wagon and

its little cloud of dust disappear over a distant swell. When he

rejoined his friend he rode in front of Frosty to halt for a

conference.

"You've made the right estimate, Landy, they're not bad people. As

hurried as they were, they had time to go back a mile or two for the

dog. People that do that sort of things are not bad. I feel sorry for

'em."

"Well, yer sorrow is sorta misplaced; they're havin' the time of their

young lives. Hulls is a-gettin' out of a mess that had no other

outlet; Maizie is to see a lot of new scenery en will git to he'p

Archie spend the money; Ugly is a-gittin' to hang around Maizie while

he eats at least two steady meals a day. I was jist figgerin', Hulls

has got more money in his pocket than he ever had in all his born

days. He's evidently sold off about ten cows en calves to Mooney

Whitset of the Diamond outfit; he's got the forty--if Ugly give hit to

him, en the five I jist handed him--that Archie will never see--so,

all told, they are in clover. Hit will take 'em about two weeks to

make the trip, en with all that plunder aboard Archie will give 'em a

royal welcome.

"Ye see, son, old Matt--ner the boys--ever made a dime out of this

place--never wanted to. Jist fiddled around, huntin', fishin' en

loafin'. The whole thing wasn't any bigger an asset than a job as a

section hand on the U P. Their sales of scrawny cattle jist about paid

the taxes en bought their salt en terbacker.

"Now, son, ye are on the Bar-O. The line runs from them peaks in the

Cliffs to a bend in the crick at that fringe of trees. Then add two

sections of rough land around the Cliffs, en that's hit. The Barrows

never did much fencin'. Jist a bresh fence around the truck patch en a

fairly good corral at the stables is about all. The cows are down thar

by the spring. We'll turn the bulls out en go down en count 'em."

While Landy was engaged in the requested task Davy took hasty survey

of the surroundings. The stables and house were of the same

architecture: rambling log structures that seemed to have been erected

after many an afterthought. The front door of the house was open.

Landy closed it, and circled the house to see that all other openings

were closed. He then mounted and motioned Davy to follow the bulls to

water. Here, Landy circled the cows and calves. "Thar's twenty-six of

'em," he commented, "en ye owe Finch the full amount of his claim.

"Now," commented the aged Nestor, "we'll not go over by the B-line.

What they don't know won't hurt 'em. We'll jist slip back home the way

we come. Tomorry will be plenty of time to go over the hay-he'p

matter, en on Monday we must cinch the deal."

15

The great Burns warehouse in Adot was built back in the impulsive days

following the construction of the Union Pacific Railroad.

Notwithstanding the fact that the young nation was engaged in a civil

war that challenged its existence, there was faith that right would

prevail, hope in the future of national expansion, and charity assumed

her wonted place. In 1862 Congress incorporated the road, borrowed the

funds to build, and bonused the enterprise with grants of

land--greater in area than the State of Pennsylvania.

And there was need for national expansion and the development of the

vast empire west of the Mississippi. At the close of the Civil War,

more than a million soldiers were discharged to seek new homes in an

uncongested area. A million immigrants came from impoverished Europe

in the four succeeding years, begging for freedom and a place to live.

These millions too were given bonuses of grants of land, and soon the

uninhabited West was dotted with primitive homesteads and scattered

ranches that must be served. Food, in all its varieties, is a primal

necessity. Warehouses, clumsy predecessors of modern stores, must be

constructed at advantageous points to shelter foods and make

distribution to remote sections. Some called them trading posts.

And so, back in the colorful days of the building of the fast-growing

West, young Isaac Burns constructed his warehouse. It was high and

wide, if not handsome. It had a driveway through it--handy for the

four or six teams that came to unload flour, sugar, salt, spices,

bolts of fabrics, farm implements, or what-have you. Handy, too, for

the rancher or miner that came to buy at retail (but in wholesale

quantities) a full year's supply of merchandise and food.

But in the changing economies of a fast-growing republic, the

warehouse plan was to take its place with the ox yoke, the spinning

wheel, the mustache cup, and the Prince Albert coat. Hard roads and

bridges took the place of ill-defined trails, and gasoline brought the

rancher to trading marts daily, instead of once a year.

Young Jethro Burns added a corral to the now useless warehouse and

traded in livestock. Joe Burns, of the next generation, closed off one

side of the driveway to make a storage room. But notwithstanding its

favorable location in the center of town, the room remained idle.

Except as a repository for a few odds and ends and its occasional uses

on election days, the old warehouse rested in its past glories. It was

an easy conquest for the persuasive, zealous Paul Curtis, the newly

arrived Nazarene minister, to gain permission for its use for church

purposes. Seemingly easy it was to commandeer many of the community's

extra chairs, benches, settees, and kegs to accommodate the limited

but growing congregation. A small platform was built at one end,

lights were added. And now, exhortations and songs of praise filled

the air that was once vibrant with the bawling of restless calves and

the bleating of timid lambs.

In the week preceding the event, a great muslin banner hung across the

warehouse front proclaiming:

UNIQUE ENTERTAINMENT!

Saturday Eve, 7:30

CIRCUS-SHOW MIDGET

WILL RELATE EXPERIENCES

Songs and Music

Admission--Free Will Offering.