DAVID LEAVES HOME
David was so excited over his proposed trip to a real ranch in South
America that he found sleep impossible on the night following the
momentous decision.
His head felt like a whirling mass that refused to come to a standstill.
He thought of a hundred things that he wanted to do all at once, but the
thoughts rushed back and forth and around in circles so that he could
not disentangle a single one to start with.
He was going to have his wish at last; that much he realized. And South
America at that! The very words were awe-inspiring. They suggested
mighty rivers, vast jungles where monkeys formed living chains or
bridges to span the streams, by clutching one another’s tails; and where
giant snakes drooped like garlands from the branches of great trees
while myriads of gorgeous birds and shimmering butterflies fluttered
among the bright-colored flowers. These sights must be common ones, for
had not the geographies pictured them as typical of the Southern
Continent?
David did not care, particularly, for some of the things he was sure he
should encounter--especially the snakes and the crocodiles. But, of
course, a ranch would not be situated out in the jungle; it would have
to be in the open where there was grass for the cattle. He tried to
picture such a place. A long, rambling building painted white, with a
few palm trees in front under which saddled horses were waiting
patiently for their riders; more trees, of some kind or other, nearby,
in the shade of which men dressed in buckskins, with fringes on their
breeches and great, leather gauntlets on their arms, were sprawled on
the grass, their wide-brimmed hats lying on the ground where they had
been carelessly tossed by their owners.
All about stretched the rolling meadows, miles and miles, dotted with
herds of cattle peacefully grazing on the long, green grass.
That was the picture that formed itself in his mind. But the things that
did not occur to him, the things the geographies did not mention and
that no one had told him about, so far, were the blistering heat of the
tropics that could scorch and burn as mercilessly as the blast from a
furnace; the insect pests that rendered life all but unendurable; the
fevers that sapped one’s vitality; and the monotony of existence in
far-away, lonely places with only the treacherous half-breeds and stolid
Indians for companions. It was just as well that these unpleasant
details and many others of similar nature remained in the obscure
background; he would make their acquaintance soon enough.
“Better decide on what you want to take with you,” his father advised
the next day. “You will not need anything fancy, and keep the amount
down as much as possible. Talk it over with your mother.”
That was good advice and David followed it. But it required nearly one
full day to make out the list, go over it carefully, strike out some
items, add others, and then start over again with the ever-present
suspicion that something of importance had been forgotten.
“I’ll tell you what,” he said finally, “I am not going to take anything
except a few clothes to wear on the trip, one khaki outfit and a gun.
How do I know what is proper down there? I might take down a lot of
things only to find that they are not suitable in that climate. And the
other fellows working on the ranch must get their clothes somewhere in
the neighborhood, so I can, too, after I find out exactly what I need.”
His mother promptly agreed that that was the sensible thing to do. Only,
she added, a few good books might prove not unwelcome companions on such
a trip, so David promptly packed his volumes on cattle and agriculture
as well as a few favorite others.
The news of his intended journey spread rapidly among his friends and
acquaintances. They immediately divided into two factions; one
considered him the luckiest mortal in the world while the other thought
he was the most foolish person imaginable.
David pitied them all, impartially. No matter how they felt, they were
all doomed to remain behind, chained to the treadmill of city existence,
while he was the one to go forth into God’s great world with only the
horizon to mark the boundary of his vision and activity.
“I cannot understand it,” Mr. Jones announced one evening soon after.
“Rice has not answered my cable. Perhaps he has given up the ranch and
gone to other parts. I am sorry, but you may not go after all. Too bad,
after all the anticipation.”
David’s heart sank.
“Rice or no Rice, I am going just the same,” he announced.
“But where to? If he has gone away there will be no place to which you
can go.”
“He couldn’t take the ranch with him, could he? If he has gone someone
else must have it. And even if that outfit is out of existence there
must be plenty of others. I am not fussy over where I make my start.”
“Very well. So far as this proposition is concerned you shall have your
own way. But you cannot blame me for being concerned about your
welfare.”
“Of course not. But at the same time, please don’t forget that I am not
a baby. I can take care of myself.”
His father bit his lip. His eyes narrowed as he regarded his son. And in
that instant an idea came to him.
“Just as you say,” he said quietly. “It will be your chance to show me
just what you can do. The _Morales_ sails a week from today and I shall
make a reservation for you. In the meantime, I shall send other cables;
you may go regardless of whether there are answers or not. Is that
satisfactory?”
“It’s splendid. I won’t sleep a wink until then.”
On the eve of the great day the little group around the dinner table was
very silent.
“Rice has answered at last,” Mr. Jones said suddenly.
“What did he say?” asked David, eagerly.
“Never mind what he said. You are determined to go, anyway, so it makes
no difference.”
“But does he want me to come?” David persisted.
“Suppose he does?”
“I should go, of course.”
“And if he does not?”
“I should go anyway. I am all ready, my ticket is bought and I couldn’t
think of backing out. I should never hear the last of it.”
“You are quite right. Everything is arranged, however, and I want you to
go. You will do just as you planned.”
David thought he noticed an amused expression on his father’s face, but
he was not quite sure. It did seem, though, that his manner had changed
remarkably in the last few days. His former reluctance had given way to
seeming eagerness. But in the feverishness of his excitement David did
not appraise these observations at their proper value and soon forgot
them entirely.
At last the memorable day actually arrived. The weeks of waiting had
seemed an eternity. But here he was, aboard the great boat; some of the
people about him were crying and for a moment he felt a strange feeling
coming upon him. Going was not so easy as he had thought. Just then the
bell warned all visitors to go ashore and amid the last farewells he was
reminded of one thing.
“Do not forget,” his father said, “you may return at any time you like
and you will be welcome at home. Even if you stay only a few days, the
experience of the voyage will be of value and you will be more content
to settle down. Perhaps you will be back soon.”
They went ashore. The gangway was raised and the engines began to throb
ever so slowly as the ship backed out of her berth. Not long after that
the boat was well out in the bay and the crowd that lined the dock
merged into a waving mass in which it was impossible to distinguish
anyone.
Those last words filled David with something like resentment.
“Perhaps you will be back soon!” Indeed! What did his father mean by
that? Well, they would have to wait a long time before seeing him again.
Upon that point he was determined. No matter what happened, he would not
return home very soon. He would stick it out in the face of every
obstacle and difficulty that might block his path. He would show them
that he could make good if he but had the opportunity and the
opportunity had come at last.
By that time the ship was well down the harbor, so he sought his cabin
to unpack his baggage. Upon entering he found a man several years his
senior busily engaged straightening out his own effects.
“My name is Rogers,” said the stranger, extending his hand. “I guess we
share this place.”
“Glad to know you. My name is Jones.”
“Well, as we are going to bunk together for a while I suppose we might
as well toss a coin for the berths.”
So saying, Rogers fished a dime out of his pocket.
“What will it be?” he asked.
“I’ll take heads,” David replied.
Rogers tossed the coin into the air.
“Tails, you lose, Jones,” he said. “So I will take the lower. Anyway,
you are younger and more spry than I am, so you will not mind climbing
into the upper.”
The conversation continued while they unpacked their luggage and the
older man gave David a good deal of information, having noticed that he
had not been to sea before. David rather liked Rogers and felt that this
was the beginning of a pleasant friendship.
* * * * *
Dinner in the Jones household was a quiet, solemn affair that night.
“Wellman played his part to perfection,” the father said finally. “Too
well, in fact. For a while I was afraid David would agree with me that
he should be discharged. But I am proud of the stand he took. He acted
just as I would have had him do.”
“Are you sure he does not suspect the plan was pre-arranged?”
“Yes, he thought Wellman was serious in calling him down. He was going
from bad to worse--through no fault of his own, I will admit. He tried
hard to make good but could not; and he never will until he forgets
those ideas with which his head is crammed. Only then will he come back
to earth and buckle down to his job.”
“Do you think he will be back soon?”
“Yes, I think so. When he sees what he is compelled to endure in Brazil
he will become disillusioned in short order. I know what I am talking
about and so I think a short time of it will be all he wants. Three
months, at most.”
Mr. Jones spoke with an air of finality. The ability to look ahead and
forecast the outcome of things had in a large measure placed him on the
pinnacle of success he occupied. But for once, and in spite of carefully
arranged plans, he was doomed to disappointment. For the son possessed
all the advantage; he was entering with unbounded enthusiasm a field for
which he had prepared himself, however slightly, and of which he
therefore had some knowledge, while the father was making predictions as
to the outcome of affairs of which he knew nothing.