"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 iscautious 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 thereceiver, 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. Thenthere'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 expressto 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.
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, hepersuaded 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 theranch 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 wagontrade 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 proposedmove 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 ofrings 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 hisgenerous 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.
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 adoubtful 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 resentedhit, 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 withfunds, 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 thathe 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 thatrust 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 aslong 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.