POLLY IN THE SOUTHWEST
[Illustration: ALGY MEASURED HIS FULL LENGTH UPON THE FLOOR.]
POLLY IN THE SOUTHWEST
BY
LILLIAN ELIZABETH ROY
AUTHOR OF
POLLY OF PEBBLY PIT,
POLLY AND ELEANOR,
POLLY IN NEW YORK,
POLLY AND HER FRIENDS ABROAD,
POLLY’S BUSINESS VENTURE,
POLLY’S SOUTHERN CRUISE,
POLLY IN SOUTH AMERICA.
ILLUSTRATED BY
H. S. BARBOUR
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
Made in the United States of America
Copyright, 1925, by GROSSET & DUNLAP
CONTENTS
I News from Dodo
II Old Friends Once More
III Dodo Joins the Ranks
IV Jack and Algy Entertain
V Impromptu Amusements
VI Albuquerque Festivities
VII Jack’s Valet Duties
VIII Mr. Alexander’s Ruse
IX Surprises All Around
X Hold-ups Along the Way
XI What Happened on Humphrey’s Peak
XII Two Weeks Later
XIII Dalky’s Story
XIV Letters East and West
XV Dalky Takes a Vacation
XVI Arrivals in Los Angeles
POLLY IN THE SOUTHWEST
CHAPTER I
NEWS FROM DODO
Mr. Dalken’s southern cruise had come to an end, much to Polly’s and
Eleanor’s regret. Though there had been discomforts and many
unlooked for incidents throughout the voyage to the West Indies, and
to both coasts of South America, the entire yachting party had
thoroughly enjoyed the long pleasure trip.
Now they were back in prosaic, old New York, with its eternal
clatter and bang of hustling affairs, and the crush and rush of the
mobs of strangers or the workers at recess hours; but they seemed to
be tense and nervous at such metropolitan confusion. Mr. Dalken
laughed, as he escorted his party from the _White Crest_, upon its
arrival at the dock of the Yacht Club—every one seemed irritable
and displeased with the city.
“What an awful din!” exclaimed Eleanor, closing her ears with her
forefingers.
“I only wish we were back in Buenos Aires—they never make such a
deafening racket there,” added Jack, frowning, as a pushcart owner
bawled his wares directly back of the young dandy’s ear.
Jack’s friends laughed appreciatively at the foreigner’s timely
shout, and Jack scowled at the unconscious offender. Then, as if to
provide still more amusement for the members of the
party,—excepting Jack, of course,—the Italian tried to avoid a
mud-puddle in the asphalt, just as the young New Yorker sprang
lightly over it. The result was Jack collided with the rickety cart,
which was filled with over-ripe bananas and lemons.
The unexpected blow from the corner of the cart sent Jack sprawling
upon the street, and the pyramid of fruit descended instantaneously
upon him, then bounced in every direction, giving the ever-present
street urchins an unusual treat.
Eleanor, the irrepressible, began to sing: “Yes, we have no
bananas,” but this ridiculous ditty failed to calm Jack’s annoyance.
The laughter from not only his friends, but from every one who had
witnessed the funny episode, made him turn upon the outraged vendor.
“What do you mean, by running me down like that?” demanded Jack,
glaring at the still petrified foreigner. As though this demand
loosed the pent-up torrent of the man’s grief, he deluged the cosmos
with his heart-wrung lamentations. Mr. Dalken and Mrs. Courtney
understood Italian, and they could sympathize with the poor man,
whose tale of woe might have melted a stone image. Even Jack could
not cope with the volubility of the peddler.
Finally, Mr. Dalken stepped over and took out his wallet. Instantly,
the bereaved man’s face changed its expression, and his voice died
down to a murmur of anticipation.
“Here’s a ten dollar bill, my man. See to it that your eleven
children, now dependent upon your fruit-sales, are comfortably fed
to-day. You say they have had nothing to eat for three days—not
even such bad fruit as you have on sale—so I am sending this to
them.” As he handed the money to the vendor, the Italian broke forth
in a new strain—one of heaping blessings upon the great
monseigneur, the bounteous gentleman!
“I just know he will pick up every lemon and black banana he can
find the moment we are out of sight!” declared Nancy Fabian, smiling
as she touched upon the truth.
“_I_ wouldn’t have been so easy, Dalky,” grumbled Jack, trying to
remove some of the dirt from his coat.
“I wasn’t spending my money, Jack—don’t worry over that! I thought,
seeing that you caused the trouble, that I would apply a part of
your quarterly income to assuage the misery of the father of eleven
little New Americans,” explained Mr. Dalken.
The blank look of disgust upon Jack’s face brought forth another
ripple of laughter at his expense.
Thus teasing the young man in the party, and laughing or talking
eagerly of everything they saw, the four girls followed their elders
to the subway station.
But I anticipate: perhaps you are not acquainted with these happy
young friends, who just came from the beautiful private yacht, the
_White Crest_! In order to introduce you, before the girls proceed
to Mr. Dalken’s apartment where they were to have luncheon that day,
I will leave them for a short time during their ride on the subway.
Polly Brewster, the favorite in Mr. Dalken’s group of young friends,
had been born and raised in Colorado. Her home, a great ranch
located in the crater of an extinct volcano known upon the map as
“The Devil’s Grave,” had been renamed by Rancher Brewster, “Pebbly
Pit,” because of the marvelous Rainbow Cliffs which formed one of
the boundary walls of the crater. These cliffs were composed of
great masses of colored stones, which were readily broken from the
towering wall. All about the foot of the cliffs were scattered tons
of these shining pebbles. At the back of the wall ran the queer
formations of lava which took grotesque forms, such as statues of
men and animals. This undulating stretch of hardened lava became
known to the surrounding ranchers as “The Imps” and the “Devil’s
Causeway.”
Since Polly had left her western home to study a course of interior
decorating in New York City, the Rainbow Cliffs and the mass of
hardened lava which extended far back of the colored, pebbly wall
had been transformed by modern machinery set up on the grounds, to
cut the lava-jewels into marketable gems. This work, started after
the group of wide-awake financiers headed by Mr. Dalken had seen the
great possibilities in the stones, now provided most of the income
by which Polly, as well as some of her friends, found it possible to
travel luxuriously wherever inclination invited them.
This powerful company might never have been formed, had not
circumstances developed from that first meeting of Eleanor Maynard
and Polly Brewster, at the Colorado ranch where Eleanor went to
spend the summer. But, then, you must read that story called “Polly
of Pebbly Pit,” if you would know how Anne Stewart, the teacher,
took Eleanor and her sister Barbara out of their society atmosphere
in Chicago, and suddenly transported them to the simple but
wholesome life of a ranch. And then, how Polly took her new friends
for a trip to Grizzly Slide, where they encountered the terrific
blizzard which was instrumental in leading them willy-nilly into a
gold-mine.
The gold-mine, so thrillingly discovered, eventually founded the
beginning of Polly and Eleanor’s introduction to the world—a world
of New York adventures, European travels, business experiences, and
touring or cruising with their millionaire, self-appointed guardian,
“Dalky,” in company with other chosen friends.
The last tour Mr. Dalken had planned and carried out very
successfully was the Southern Cruise, with the Fabians, the Ashbys,
John Baxter,—always called “Jack”—and the two girls, Polly and
Eleanor, with their intimate friend and chaperon, Mrs. Courtney.
Nancy Fabian and Ruth Ashby had been members of Polly and Eleanor’s
party in Europe, hence they seemed very much like girls in one
family—so intimately acquainted had they all become with each
other.
We left Polly and her circle of friends on board the _White Crest_,
just after it had resumed its homeward voyage from Cayenne, and now,
in this present book of adventures, we meet the girls after landing
in New York City. They may have been glad to get home, to replenish
a limited wardrobe such as they had been advised to take on board
the yacht, when she sailed from New York for the South American
tour; but they also felt poignant regret at having to say good-by to
the good times they had had.
Consequently, the four girls, to say nothing of Jack, sat about Mr.
Dalken’s large dining-table, after their elders had left the room to
discuss politics and current events of New York City. They were
wondering whether Dalky would feel disposed to invite them again on
board his yacht, should he return to Colombia, in company with Mr.
Fuzzier, to inspect the plans of the great railroad and canal system
which the group of financiers had developed during their voyage
between Cayenne and New York.
“Well, now, girls,” ventured Jack Baxter, “I’ll promise you this
much—if Dalky will consent to my sharing an interest in this new
project of his, I will move heaven and earth to include you in the
prospecting party. But there must be no frills or furbelows,
understand? In fact, I’m sure you’ll have to travel minus cold cream
and beauty make-up, on such a tramp to the interior—it will mean
riding-breeches and such, to facilitate progress through the Amazon
jungle, no doubt.”
Since no one took Jack seriously, the girls now laughed at his grave
expression and businesslike tone. It was not compatible with their
knowledge of Jack, to believe him in earnest about this new mining
scheme of the group of capitalists—a scheme that meant hard work
and many sacrifices of luxuries and comforts. Jack had never been
known to give up his lazy self-indulgences, hence the girls’
laughter.
A short time after the older members in the party had left the
luncheon table, Mr. Dalken returned with a great sheaf of letters in
his hand. In the other hand he held an open sheet of paper, which he
had been reading just before entering the dining-room.
“Well, children, here’s news, all right! I had my mail for the past
week held here to await my return to the city; and now, with other
letters which had not been forwarded since we left Cayenne, I find a
letter from Ebeneezer Alexander—Dodo’s father, you know.”
“Oh, yes!” was the chorus to this announcement, and the four girls,
as well as Jack, expressed eager interest in the contents of the
letter.
“He writes me a few personal bits of information regarding certain
mining interests we have in common in Arizona, and then he goes on
to report favorably on the gold mine at Choko’s Find. He seems to
have solved the problem of getting at the vein without starting a
landslide every time one winks at the peak. He is enthusiastic and
tremendously interested in the possible outcome of his
investigations and makes expert miner’s suggestions to John Brewster
and Tom Latimer. If the tests he now has under way, prove to be
reliable experiments, our troubles over the Lost Claim may be buried
and forgotten. That leaves us free for new troubles.”
Mr. Dalken smiled as he explained this much of the letter, and,
finding his audience about to storm him with questions, he held up a
hand for silence, and anticipated some of the queries about to be
made.
“I know—you all want to know about Dodo! Is she with her Dad at the
ranch in Colorado? or is she home with her mother? Is she as
enthusiastic over interior decorating as ever—or has she deserted
the ranks, for a beau? Is she willing to join an expedition to the
North Pole, or will she prefer to spend her millions in eating bon
bons and growing obese like her mother? All of which I cannot
answer, but which you girls may have the opportunity to ask
personally very soon, provided you can be induced to turn your backs
upon New York’s charm, and give your enlivening company to a sear,
old man like me.”
“What do you mean, Dalky?” demanded Nancy Fabian.
“Is this an invitation to go somewhere?” asked Ruth Ashby.
“Dalky—are we off for another adventure?” exclaimed Eleanor
Maynard, eagerly.
“Oh! Dalky is going west to inspect the mines, and he wants us to go
with him!” declared Polly, clasping her hands, anxiously.
Jack said nothing, because he knew he would learn sooner by keeping
quiet. And he was right in his surmise.
“Polly comes nearer the truth than you realize; but I’m sure she has
Choko’s Find and the Rainbow Cliffs in mind, when she refers to the
‘mines’; but I have the mines of Southern Arizona mentioned here in
this letter—and those are the ones I will have to visit without
loss of time. In fact, I should have joined Alexander more than
three weeks before this, but I failed to receive his cable which was
sent to Rio de Janeiro. Possibly we had just left there before it
arrived. Now, however, there is no excuse for my dallying in New
York when tremendous interests depend upon my personal visit to
certain holdings out west. You all know of the plans on foot, to
incorporate a land company to exploit and open up the interior of
the northern section of South America, and as stock-holders in that
company organized on board the _White Crest_, you appreciate the
necessity of unlimited capital. Mr. Alexander’s letter offers me a
remarkable method of securing necessary funds for the work that Mr.
Fuzzier and I hope to launch very shortly. Hence, my haste in saying
farewell to New York again, and taking my little kit-bag and
starting west. How I should long to have agreeable company with
me—provided such friends could be prevailed upon to pass up a
shopping season in New York. I shall bear no grudge against the
attractive shops, however, should my feminine contingent decide in
favor of new styles and ravishing gewgaws.”
“Oh, Dalky!” rebuked Nancy Fabian.
“You know better than that, Dalky!” remonstrated Ruth.
“I’m ready to start west on the Twentieth Century—leaves at
two-twenty,” declared Eleanor, positively, causing all to laugh at
her.
“How fortunate, Dalky, that your plans fit in so nicely with my
own,” remarked Polly, a twinkle in her eyes. “I am about to go home
to visit my family, and to judge for myself how the climate of
Arizona agrees with Dodo.”
Mr. Dalken laughed outright. Then Jack cleared his throat and
murmured: “Yes; Polly was speaking to me confidentially, not two
minutes before you joined us, of the pleasure it would give her if I
would use my persuasive powers in inducing you to consider our
invitation to visit Pebbly Pit.”
The stares from the girls made Mr. Dalken laugh again, but he
hastened to reply to his ward’s invitation. “Fine, Jack! I always
try to save a dollar, in order to have the more to spend upon other
things; now I shall gladly avail myself of this agreeable and
convenient invitation, thereby saving all the expense of a western
journey. But you do not say how far nor how long this invitation is
to last me. Am I to infer that you propose paying all my expenses
throughout the western trip?”
Jack was equal to his guardian’s question. “The invitation we had in
mind to extend to you is for a visit to Pebbly Pit. Nothing was said
about expenses of getting there, or of getting back again. It is
immaterial to the host and hostess how their guests arrive—by air,
rail or afoot. Therefore I would advise you to take enough carfare
to insure you a seat in a train, in case your cross-country walking
grows too fatiguing.”
The girls now laughed in their turn, and Mr. Dalken added: “Who will
pay your fare—you have overdrawn your quarterly account, you know,
by running down that poor fruit peddler.”
“I have a plan which will provide for all my needs during the next
few months, and render the greatest service to a friend, at the same
time,” was Jack’s surprising news.
“Indeed! May I ask what that plan is?” asked his guardian.
“You may, since you are the friend I hope to serve.”
“I may be the friend, but I doubt whether your services are very
helpful to me—I judge entirely by past services, understand?”
retorted Mr. Dalken, gazing quizzically at the young man.
Jack tilted back in his chair, and thrust his hand down into his
trousers pockets; then he glanced impishly up at his guardian. “Why,
I’ve discovered how necessary a valet is to your comfort and decent
appearance in public, and I have applied for and accepted the
position as valet to your respected self. That engagement includes
all traveling expenses of mine, and leaves you ample time and
leisure to enjoy your journey with these young ladies. It is an
ideal combination.”
Jack’s plans, inspired upon the moment’s demand, provided fun and
laughter for some time thereafter. Mr. Dalken had to sit down, he
laughed so heartily at the very idea of his ward doing any kind of
service for another. But Polly, by her remark, put Jack on his
mettle.
“If I were Dalky, I’d make you live up to that agreement—there are
four witnesses to what was said, and you ought to prove what stuff
is in you, then you can win Dalky’s consent to your going to South
America with our other boys, when Mr. Fuzzier is ready to launch his
land-operations.”
“Of course I meant what I just said, Dalky,” insisted Jack. And to
his utter amazement his guardian took him at his word.
“Done, Jack! You go west with me, to attend to my wants and to
receive for your valet services all expenses and a hundred dollars a
month. For that, I shall expect you to look after my comforts, the
traveling accommodations, hotel suites, autos, and what-not. You may
have every other Sunday off for yourself, and an evening once a
week. All your other time belongs to me—not even a chance for a
little flirtation with a pretty girl on the train, or out on the
deserts of Arizona.”
“And how about the girls you take with you—any chance for Jack to
say a word to them, now or then?” laughed Eleanor.
“That depends! If such words do not conflict with my own, I may
overlook the unusual behavior on the part of a valet.”
Mrs. Courtney now entered the room, and wanted to know what could be
so absorbing that no one at the table had heard the summons from
those in the living-room. Before she could quite conclude her
questioning, an avalanche of explanations overwhelmed her. In the
confusion of voices, she could not get the drift of what it meant,
so Mr. Dalken led her back to the other room and there he explained
to his friends what he had told the girls—and he added, he had
secured five companions for his western journey. It would develop,
as soon as he had outlined his trip, how many more wished to
accompany him.
In another moment, he was the center of interest, and all was hushed
in anticipation of what was about to be revealed.