DALKY’S STORY
The Dalken party rested the day after the return to the hotel, and
then, the day following that, Jack had the guides take them down the
Hermit Trail. Mrs. Alexander refused emphatically to risk her
precious life again on such silly errands as those leading to the
bottom of the Canyon, only to have to ride up again!
They stopped over night at the Hermit Cabins, and then back-trailed
until they reached the Tonto Trail where it forks from the Hermit
Trail. The Tonto Trail led them along the Colorado River, but
necessarily swerving in and out between the huge peaks. Late that
afternoon they came to Bright Angel Trail, and thus regained the
upper level once more. It was quite dark by the time they entered
the hotel, and, at first, the lights dazzled their eyes so that they
did not see who was standing beside Mrs. Alexander. In a few
moments, however, Polly gave a glad squeal and rushed forward.
“Oh, Dalky! I’m _so_ glad to see you again. When did you get here?”
Mr. Dalken was immediately surrounded by the bevy of young people,
so that he found it impossible to reply to all their questions at
once. Turning to Polly, he answered her.
“We arrived not half an hour ago, and Mrs. Alexander was just
telling us about that dreadful trip down to Phantom Ranch. I only
wish I had been there, to try to encourage you when you feared
instant death over the rim of Bright Angel. Mrs. Alexander says the
trail got its name from the many lives which are being sacrificed
while trying to go up or down that perpendicular path.” Mr. Dalken’s
face showed no hint of a smile as he spoke, but Dodo laughed
outright.
“Why, Ma! I should think you’d try to keep your fears to yourself,”
exclaimed the girl. “As for telling any one how the trail got its
name—that is too absurd for anything! Some one has been stringing
you, that’s all.”
“I reckon I ought to know, young lady!” snapped Dodo’s mother. “Mr.
Atchison is very well-informed, and he spent more than an hour this
morning before he left, in telling me all about Grand Canyon and how
the trails got their various names.”
“Mr. Atchison tried to see just how much hot air you would take,”
chuckled Mr. Alexander.
“Ebeneezer! I told you a few minutes ago that you must not treat me
as you have in the past. I realize how far above you I am in my
ideals and social polish, and I demand recognition of my station,”
was Mrs. Alexander’s severe reprimand.
Her husband failed to be impressed by her hauteur, however, and his
laugh echoed through the room. In fact, it was so spontaneous and
contagious that all the others in the group—except Mrs. Alexander,
of course—had to smile with him.
“Well, well, girls! Come sit down and hear our story,” interrupted
Mr. Dalken, eager to silence these two bickering partners. And that
invitation instantly changed the trend of thought.
“Now, begin at the very beginning, Dalky—when you-all left us at
Flagstaff and rushed away without telling us where, or who with, or
when you’d get back,” coaxed Polly, eagerly.
“All right, then,” agreed Mr. Dalken. “In the parlance of the fairy
tales, I’ll say: ‘Once upon a time there were three wise men who
went to a far-off land to seek their fortunes.’” The narrator smiled
as he indicated Mr. Fuzzier, Mr. Alexander and himself. “Well, these
wise men thought they had reached the land of their dreams without
others being aware of their coming. But they were to learn that not
only had certain individuals in Chicago telegraphed the advent of
these wise men to certain individuals in and near the section of
country where the three friends were going to take fortune by the
forelock, but they discovered also that every movement since they
left Chicago until they were on the drive from Flagstaff to Sedona
was known to those who were waiting with their nets wide open to
entrap the unwary, innocent, gullible, wise men.”
The girls giggled at Mr. Dalken’s latter part of the tale, but Polly
interpolated: “Oh, do speak in simple English, Dalky! The story is
going to be too thrilling for round-about methods.”
“All right, then. Seeing you prefer unvarnished facts to classic
lore, here goes,” was the smiling rejoinder. “Jack, there, secured a
most valuable chauffeur for us,—but this was quite unintentional on
his part,—the morning we started from Flagstaff. In fact, we could
not have had a better man for our purpose, than the driver of the
car that sped us along the trail to Montezumas Castle.
“Bill Beldon, that’s the chauffeur’s name, seemed to have a hunch
that we needed speed to reach the old Farview Ranch before Father
Time could arrive there. So he kept his foot upon the gas without
letting up, until we struck a spread of gravel and that introduced
our vicissitudes. First Alex. ran up against a bit of gravel as
large as his head, and, his head being softer than the stone, he
showed results in a vast swelling. Then Fuzzy tried to dent the car
with his forehead, and immediately _his_ head began to puff up. I
waited for a better opportunity to dent something, and I found it
while stooping over Alex. Unfortunately for us both, the chauffeur
tried the same stunt at the same time. Result: two more swelled
heads. Now, girls, picture us four men, each one nursing a great
black and blue lump about the size of an orange!”
At the mental picture portrayed, every one present laughed merrily;
then Jack added: “I bet you won out in your plans, or you wouldn’t
sit there giving us the funny details of the first stage of the
trip.”
“Jack, my boy, you are too bright for your age,” commented Mr.
Fuzzier. Mr. Dalken paid no heed, but resumed his story.
“While we were trying to stand Alex. upon his feet, Bill explained
how he had learned who we were, and how a man by the name of Dunlap
had been anxiously waiting for us at Williams, where he thought we
must appear on the way to Grand Canyon. He also told us how the
chauffeur of Dunlap’s hired car, Jim, by name, was a chum of his,
and how Jim had driven Dunlap to Flagstaff twice that week to study
the register of the hotel and assure himself that his quarry had not
been there, and, perhaps, escaped him by another way.
“That was all we needed to make us forget heads and tires, and we
urged Bill to get busy with the gas, or he’d be a dead man.
“Needless to add, Fuzzy, here, assuaged the driver’s grief over the
damage the car would be sure to receive on that reckless trip from
the main road to Sedona, by promising him two new cars—or the price
of them—if he got us to the ranch before others woke up to the fact
that we were within a hundred miles of it.
“Well, Bill Beldon won his prize money, but it was touch and go at
the last. I’m anticipating the finale of the tale in order to quiet
Jack’s nerves—I see he wants to know if we won out.”
“Hurrah!” cried Jack, clapping his hands at the news. “That means
you go on with the South American project, and I can go down there
with the rest of the men to work on the development.”
Mr. Dalken smiled indulgently, for he thought he knew Jack well
enough to believe him incapable of serious application to work of
any kind. Then he continued his story.
“We left the main road, as I said, and were heading for Sedona, when
Bill struck this gravel stretch. The car behind had a good
opportunity now to catch up and pass us by, but the road was too
narrow to permit two cars abreast. Besides, our car, in striking the
deep rut, had turned partly across the road, thus obstructing it for
any other vehicles. All the same, we saw the driver, Jim, driving
along swiftly, and we were determined to evade his passenger,
Dunlap.
“We bundled Alex. back into the car, and in another moment Bill was
in his seat. By the time Fuzzy and I were inside, the car had
started again, and we soon out-distanced the car behind.
“We decided not to pass through Sedona, after all, but we tried to
keep on the outskirts in order to avoid attention. From there we
determined to strike in a southwesterly direction towards Camp
Verde. The ranch we were after was half-way between Sedona and
Verde, and we would have to go a bit off of our route in order to
travel on ready-made trails.
“All went well for us,—even the tires held out better than we had
expected them to do,—until we came to a crosstrail that struck in
from Clarkdale. Just before we reached the point where the trail
veered off to the great ranch for which we were bound, Bill spied a
third car coming from the direction of Clarkdale. As it was going at
top speed, he concluded that it had passengers who thought time must
be worth money. So he drew our attention to it.
“‘We take no chances, Bill!’ I ordered. ‘It may be a second Dunlap
in that car. Anyway, shoot ahead, and keep in the lead, no matter if
the whole works go to pieces a moment after we reach the ranch.’
“And Bill did shoot ahead. In fact, we made the turn to the ranch
about fifty yards in advance of the automobile coming from
Clarkdale.
“The ranch buildings could be seen in the far distance like so many
tiny dots upon the landscape, when our next delay came about. One of
the rear tires blew up. Bill gazed anxiously out to see how much
advanced time he might take and yet keep in the lead of the pursuing
car. No other automobile was to be seen, so we all jumped out,
jacked the car, and worked like college football players at a crack
game. You’d hardly believe it, if we were to tell you the time it
took us to change tires and get started again. Just as Alex. slammed
the door of the automobile, I peeped out and saw the car from
Clarkdale coming into view on the trail.
“Then, even as I was about to turn my gaze away, I saw the car skid,
and in another moment it had climbed up the side of the bank that
skirted the trail. It toppled over against the high side of the
embankment; that was fortunate for us, as we could not have been
heartless enough to leave an injured competitor upon a lonely trail
had the car rolled over on the downward side and turned turtle.
“We had gone another mile, when Alex., who was posted at the rear
window watching the trail behind, reported that another car was
coming along the trail, and the man who had been in the overturned
automobile was hailing the chauffeur to stop. In another moment,
Alex. said: ‘Now they’ve stopped, and the man is getting in the
other car. Now they are on their way again. But we have a fine lead
on them.’
“He had no more than finished speaking, when the front tire went
flat. I shouted to Bill to keep right on running on the flat tire,
if necessary, since it was not far now to the ranch buildings.
“But the flat tire delayed us in the race, and the jolting was
dreadful. In fact, when we pulled up in front of the one-story shack
where we were to meet the man who had the legal right to sign an
option for the property, we were completely out of breath from the
shaking up. We had reached our destination, however, five minutes in
advance of the other men, and Bill had earned his reward.
“Then I ran to the closed door, and banged away at it. No one
answered, and I tried the handle. The door was locked! Then we ran
about the place, Fuzzy to the sheds, Alex. to the back of the
shanty, and I to try a window to get in. All to no purpose! Not a
soul could we find, and no notice, either, to state where the owner
might have gone.
“To our chagrin the other automobile now pulled up in the clearing
before the shack, and Jim greeted his pal, Bill Beldon. We stood
eyeing the occupants of the car, as they prepared to get out, and
there, to our astonishment, we saw Algy step from the inside. He
appeared to be so frightened, and so shaken up, that he could not
speak to any one for a time. Two men followed directly after him,
and they came forward without ceremony to introduce themselves to
us.
“‘Is this the party from Chicago?’ asked the man whom we suspected
to be Dunlap.
“‘Why do you ask?’ I demanded impatiently, realizing how we had
missed the option on the place by having the owner break his
appointment.
“‘Because I must be sure I am addressing the right party before I
tell my story,’ explained Dunlap.
“‘And how about the man with you?’ asked Fuzzy. ‘He came from the
opposite direction, and but for the accident to his car, would have
reached here just ahead of you. Now he is with you.’
“‘Yes; I was greatly surprised to find Mr. Belnord in the vicinity
of the ranch, because I had reason to believe him at Williams, where
I left him the day I started for Flagstaff,’ explained the man
addressed.
“‘Then you make no secret of having tried to anticipate our arrival
at Flagstaff, and keeping yourself posted in regard to our
appearance at Williams?’ questioned Fuzzy, with a meaning smile.
“‘Oh, indeed, no! That is, if you are the three gentlemen for whom I
have instructions,’ returned the man.
“‘What do you mean—instructions for us?’ asked Alex.
“‘Why, didn’t you get the telegram I sent to Mr. Fuzzier in
Chicago?’ asked both men, anxiously. Then one added: ‘One of you
three gentlemen must be Mr. Fuzzier, I trust?’
“‘Well, yes! I am the man,’ confessed Fuzzy.
“‘And one of you must be the Mr. Dalken of New York, whom we wish to
see, and the third one is Mr. Alexander, of Denver?’
“‘Seeing that we happen to be these three men, what is it you wish
of us?’ I asked.
“‘Why,’ began the man who had been toppled over in the automobile,
‘I am Mr. Belnord, executor of the man who owned this great tract of
land. I found, in his sheaf of papers, that he had corresponded with
you gentlemen about an option on this land. And he further said,
that he wished you to have first choice on buying the place, because
Ebeneezer Alexander had befriended him years ago while both men were
at Cripple Creek staking out claims. It seems this Alexander had
staked a rich claim, and had advised my client to stake the
adjoining claim. He did so, and cleared up enough on that advice to
buy this great ranch.’
“‘And I am Mr. Dunlap, the agent who sold Sam White this ranch. I
happen to know that Sam always suspected his property of having a
rich vein of copper in it, and we often planned what we would do
some day, if Sam got over his rheumatism and could work. Poor Sam
died two weeks ago, and Mr. Belnord and I have been on the lookout
for you gentlemen ever since. We both had wires from your offices in
Chicago and New York, informing us that you would be on your way to
Grand Canyon by the time the messages reached us. And we posted
ourselves at the two main towns on the railroad, thinking you might
get off to have a look at the sights on the way.’
“‘When Dunlap and I heard you had gone on to the ranch, we both
started after you, hoping to save you the long, hard drive over
these dreadful trails. But you’ve got one fast driver, in that Bill
Beldon,’ explained Mr. Belnord.
“At that, we three stared speechlessly at the two men. I managed to
get my breath, however, and then asked: ‘Do you two mean to tell us
that you were trying to locate us in order to help us take up the
option on this land?’
“‘Why, of course! What did you think we wanted of you?’ asked Mr.
Dunlap.
“At that, we had to laugh at ourselves, but Bill Beldon stood
looking glum. He feared he would lose that reward, because he had
misinterpreted the intentions of the man Dunlap.
“‘I will confess, gentlemen,’ added Mr. Dunlap, after we had
exhausted our laughing-stock, ‘that I had my own axe to grind, as
well as seeing you get possession of this land. I bought a great
tract of land adjoining White’s ranch, because of my faith in his
powers of discernment. And I thought, perhaps, if you were
interested in taking up Sam’s ranch, you would also like to look
over my tract at the same time. I want to get into a big developing
scheme, and I have a little cash to add to the value of my land, if
you will consider me as one of your stock-holders. So, now,
gentlemen, suppose we get down to business.’
“Well, friends! That’s the story of how we ‘Three Wise Fools’ ran
ourselves across the country in search of a paper that was right at
hand in the little town from which we started. And all the time we
thought we were running away from our competitors, we actually were
running away from the two men who were anxious to help us realize
our wishes.” Mr. Dalken laughed as he concluded.
“How wonderful!” exclaimed Polly, delightedly.
“And you got all you went after?” asked Eleanor.
“More! And we need not have gone so far to get it, either,” replied
Mr. Fuzzier.
“Mr. Dalken’s name for you three seems most appropriate,” laughed
Mrs. Courtney, “but your wooden shoe was an automobile, and the sea
you sailed was the ranch-land. Now, however, we are glad to find you
have sailed safely back to harbor.”
“Thank you for that, Fair Lady,” smiled Mr. Dalken.
Mrs. Alexander had no idea of what Mrs. Courtney had been referring
to when she spoke of the wooden shoe and the sailing over the sea,
and she felt that she must add a word now.
“I was not told that Ebeneezer and you two other men wore wooden
shoes on that trip to the ranch, but that doesn’t concern _me_, if
you prefer to wear sores on your feet. What does concern me,
however, is Mr. Belnord. Where did you leave the gentleman who was
so attentive to me during my stop-over at Williams?”
“Why, Maggie, you’ll find him back in Chicago, by this time, I hope.
We sent him on at once to attend to all the papers concerning our
transaction,” explained Mr. Alexander.
“And what did you do with my poor Algy?” demanded the lady.
“Your Algy is still mooning around Williams, waiting as you
commanded him to do,” chuckled Mr. Alexander.
“You didn’t leave him there, did you, and come on to Grand Canyon,
where you knew I would be?” exclaimed his wife.
“Algy is of age, and he was afraid to disobey you, Maggie, dear!
You’ve got him trained better than I ever was,” retorted her
independent husband.
“My poor, dear Algy!” sighed Mrs. Alexander, leaving the group and
going to the desk to wire at once for her obedient admirer to join
her at Grand Canyon.