"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.

COME!

David Lannarck was up bright and early Saturday morning. After feeding and brushing Peaches, he dressed himself in his best clothes. Landy, too, sensing the importance of coming events, improved his appearance by buttoning up his shirt-front. The ride to the B-line was unimportant. Adine Lough was ready with the roadster. By ten or eleven o'clock the party was in Adot.

At the bridge they stopped to lay back the top. Adine drove slowly up Main Street; Davy stood in the middle with his hand on Landy's shoulder. There were but few persons on the street as the car passed but on its return, everybody in the stores was out on the sidewalk.

"Take off that old barn-door hat, Landy, so we can see what ye got," called someone from the walk. Landy complied with the request. Davy waved his greetings to the curious. The party halted at Jode's hotel and restaurant. A woman came out.

Presently a young fellow, coatless and hatless, came running from the old warehouse. "We should have had a band to head the parade," he exclaimed apologetically, "but you are surely welcome. I have been adding more camp chairs to our seating capacity. We'll need them all." It was the young preacher. Adine made the introductions.

"Do you want another parade this afternoon?" asked Davy. "Getting out the Standing Room Only sign is always an asset for future entertainments."

"And will you be with us again?" asked the young minister quickly.

"No, this is my last public appearance," said Davy firmly. "In this matter, I am fulfilling an agreement. I want to give all I've got; because I got just what I wanted. But if Adine is willing, we'll parade this afternoon."

And parade they did, at three o'clock. Davy insisted that Landy participate. The aged Nestor—a perfect representative of other days—held grimly to his seat as the car, driven by a very handsome and smiling young lady, moved slowly up and down the thoroughfare, packed with people who had come to see—a midget!

Adine, Davy, and Landy were joined in the evening meal by Mr. and Mrs. Charles Gillis and Welborn, who had come in Jim's car, via the Carter filling station. The Silver Falls project was well represented. On the way over, Welborn figured he could have taken fully an ounce of dust from the company holdings, but he was loyal to his friend—and promise.

The audience that assembled for the entertainment at the Burns warehouse exceeded the young minister's estimates. The standing audience was greater than the number that found seats. A few venturesome lads who had never seen a midget climbed up to the braces that held sill to pillar to get a better view. But withal it was a quiet, orderly gathering of the men, women, and children of the little city and its far-reaching suburbs.

While the crowd was assembling young Paul Curtis, the preacher, acted as usher. He seated Adine Lough and her party of five on the platform. Occasionally he consulted with Brother Peyton, the doorkeeper. And finally, as capacity was reached, he came to the rostrum.

"Friends and neighbors," he said, "it's too bad that our program must be preceded by an apology. As a stranger in your midst, I did not properly estimate your interest and enthusiasm. I accept the blame for not providing a larger auditorium and I want, at this time, to give credit to Miss Adine Lough, of the B-line ranch, for her zeal in providing the feature of the entertainment and giving it the wide publicity it deserves. Make yourselves as comfortable as you can and we will proceed with our offerings."

The young minister was a real artist with an accordion. He played several popular numbers, interspersed with old-time classics such as "The Flower Song," "The Blue Danube," and others. It was good music, well played, and received generous applause. These were followed by a solo and encore by the minister's wife and then a quartette of young girls sang a couple of popular selections.

Paul Curtis had preceded each number by a brief statement as to what it was to be. Now he came to the rostrum. "We are now at the feature number of our program," he announced. "I understand it had its beginnings in a horse trade. Back in other days, a horse trade was often tinged with fraud and chicanery. This one has ended in a great good; really, it's the most fortuitous happening in my brief career as a minister of the Gospel. It has given me a quick and hearty contact with all the people where I am to work. It goes to show that a great good can spring from lowly origins. The Saviour of men, you know, was from lowly Nazareth and born in a manger.

"But we will let the next speaker tell of the hoss trade, although he is scheduled to talk about midgets and tell us something about life with a circus-show. Both of these topics interest me deeply, as I know nothing about either, and am anxious to learn about them.

"Folks, neighbors, and friends of Adot and community, allow me to introduce my new-found young friend and our near-neighbor, Mister David Lannarck, lately a feature with the Great International Circus, and now a resident of the Silver Falls neighborhood. Mister Lannarck."

Davy slid down from an uncomfortable chair and climbed up on the little platform that had been placed at the side of the pulpit proper.

"Howdy, folks, and thank you, Brother Curtis, for the kindly introduction. Calling me your young friend is a compliment I hardly deserve. Yet it's a form of praise encountered by midgets. I recall that a white-haired, gray-whiskered employee of the hotel in Philadelphia, where we were quartered, persistently called Admiral Blair, our leading midget, 'Sonny Boy.' When comparisons were made, the Admiral was ten years the older. I am not very adept in guessing the ages of either grown persons or midgets, but I suspect, Brother Curtis, that I was in the fourth grade in school about the time you were born; and that when you arrived at the fourth grade, I was doing a man's job on the Keith vaudeville circuit. Such things occur to midgets.

"But let's get the Side-Show out of the way before we start the performance in the Big Top—let's clear up the hoss trade first. In that transaction I was simply the innocent bystander. The principals in that event are with us tonight. Acting as Master of Ceremonies of this Floor Show, let me introduce them." Turning to his guests of the evening, the speaker cautioned: "Stand up, folks, and take your bow as your name is called.

"First, I want to present the party who contributed the Hoss, who made all the plans, and who through the untiring labors of this young minister is largely, if not wholly responsible for this splendid gathering, Miss Adine Lough."

The applause was generous and lasting. Blushing, smiling, and embarrassed, Adine took her bow and resumed her seat.

"And the next principal in the transaction—the man who discovered the hoss and led me to it—my friend, mentor, guide, and boon companion, Mister Landy Spencer." The applause was generous but more boisterous. It was evident that Mister Spencer had many boon companions in the audience. Landy's bow was a mixture of bends at the waist, neck, and knees.

"And the next two, while not direct parties to the hoss trade, are responsible for my upkeep, who shelter and feed me—and the hoss, Mister and Mistress James Gillis." Again the applause was generous and hearty.

"And last, but not least, is the man who came to me in my greatest hour of distress—of disgust with the mob and a fixed determination to get away from it all; the man who came to me when the circus was about to fold up, and I was yearning for quiet and peace but didn't know where to find it, and he found it for me. Right where I wanted to be, the place I had dreamed of, but never could find, the man who as my podner does the easy manual labor, while I do the hard thinking, the man who owned it all and staked me out a half interest, Mister Sam Welborn." Again the applause was generous.

"And that completes the hoss trade episode, my friends. I got the best little horse west of the Mississippi River, and Miss Lough got nothing but the satisfaction of having planned and promoted a worthy enterprise in which all of you are participants. Now, let's get on to the main event in the Big Top; let's talk about midgets and circuses."

Earlier, Davy had asked Paul Curtis to find if his voice was reaching the remote fringes of the audience. Being assured by a friendly nod that he was making himself heard, he placed his elbows on the pulpit and rested his chin in his cupped hands to gaze at the curious.

"I wish I knew something of my subject other than my own personal experiences," he said in a slow, lowered voice. "General literature is silent on the classification and accomplishments of midgets. Except for Dean Swift's recitals of the Lilliputians—which is pure fiction and the limited paragraphs in the encyclopedias on dwarfs—which is the wrong name for the subject—in literature the midget is the forgotten man.

"Even the Bible, in its wide comprehension of all classes of man, to include the race of giants, before the flood, the stalwart sons of Anak, and the giant adversary of little David, makes no mention of the little people except in the third book of Mosaic writings, the 'Crookbackt' or dwarfs are warned not to come nigh the altar-fires where sacrifices are offered. A severe banishment, truly, but as a good Presbyterian, I attribute the severity of such a decree to the grudging envy of the jealous old 'kettle-tender' who maybe scorched the stew; and I get my solace in the comforting words of the Master who pledges that 'the meek, the merciful, the pure in heart and the peacemakers—large or small—shall be called the children of God.'

"Yes, there's confusion in literature—even in dictionaries—as to the proper classification of midgets. Their status is better established by elimination—by stating what they are not. Midgets are neither dwarfs, runts, pygmies, nor Lilliputians. Dwarfs may have normal bodies but with either short legs or arms, or both; a runt is a small specimen in a litter or drove; pygmies were a mythical creation of the Greeks, but the name was later given to a tribe in South Africa, whose stature was considerably less than their neighbors; and Lilliputians were the creation of a mind that was later to go haywire—but not over midgets, mind you—it was that other enigma in human life: the beckoning lure of two women, and the great creator of 'Gulliver and His Travels' went nuts in trying to decide which way to go."