C O M E!
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."
A wave of stillness blanketed the audience that had come to see—and maybe laugh at—the antics of a midget. Up to now, the address was not in the expected pitch. It was far afield from the anticipated humor of frivolous incidents. Dissertations on literature, science, and philosophy came as an unexpected jolt. Davy Lannarck, who had spent his adult life in facing the public, now knew that he had 'em mesmerized.
"Who, then, composes this exclusive class in the human family? Who are midgets?" Davy gave the question its full emphasis to include the dramatic pause. "Well, I've lived the life of one for more than a quarter of a century. If literature, dictionaries, encyclopedias, and Holy Writ fail to sort us into the proper herd, why, I'll heat my own runnin' iron and brand the ones I think are eligible.
"Midgets are people. Out of a million or more of babies born one, at least, is destined not to reach adult stature. Normal in every way and perfectly proportioned, this millionth babe stops growing, while yet a babe, and thereafter not an inch is added to his stature and very little to his Weight. 'Arrested development' the scientist terms it; 'a malfunctioning of the pituitary gland' is the doctor's diagnosis of the disaster.
"So, one out of a million or more babies born is destined to go through life bumping his head against other people's knees. If it's a boy, he can never bust one over the fence for a home run, never look squarely into the face of the receiving teller at the bank or of the room clerk at the hotel. He is never to referee a prize fight or run for president. If he wants a drink at the public fountain, he must ask someone to get it for him. If he goes to school, church, or a public meeting he must either get a front seat or he'll get a back view. On trains, busses, and Pullmans he pays the same adult fare as the two-hundred-pounder across the aisle.
"In the meager information about midgets, one writer, in an excellent article, estimates one midget to every million of population. He must have lived in New York City, as the little people flock to that metropolis, seeking employment in theaters and museums. My personal estimate of the ratio is that not one babe in two million is destined to go through life looking through the wrong end of opera glasses. In my brief career I have never seen more than twenty-two midgets in one group, and that only after Baron Singer had combed the civilized world in an effort to get 'em all in one assemblage.
"I have said that literature is almost silent concerning midgets and their activities. Yet, if one would compile all the scattered paragraphs of the ages past, it might be a sizeable volume. Back in the days when chivalry ran parallel with human bondage, midgets were rated as personal property. Kings and emperors called them to court for amusement purposes; offered them as gifts to appease the powerful or seduce the weak. And at courtly banquets, when the liquor was potent enough to inspire adventuresome bravery, midgets were tossed like medicine balls, from guest to guest, to provide entertainment for the ladies and gallants there present. However, the meager paragraphs failed to reveal if the ball was dribbled or if free throws were allowed in the event of fouls being made on the brave participants.
"Midgets marry same as other people, and strange to relate, fully half of them wed full grown adults. Just why this is I do not know. While I have acted the part of Dan Cupid in several stage productions, I've had no actual experience with the attachments and jealousies of humans—big or little. Midgets do have love-longings and jealousies, and love-making is carried on with all the zeal of modern warfare. Also, it has some of the elements of modern international diplomacy in its double-talk and duplicity. I witnessed one of these incidents as an innocent bystander.
"André, a very competent juggler, had come to America with the Singer Midgets. He was a Frenchman and spoke not a word of English. In America, the Singer Company was rallying to its organization all the little people it could induce to join up in a tour of the big circuit. Among the new arrivals was Lorette Sanford, a beautiful little trick of a girl. André was much impressed with her beauty and vivacity. Here was his soulmate! But he just couldn't tell her of his undying affection on account of the language handicap. Lorette knew not a word of French.
"But love laughs at locksmiths and Cupid has many assistants. André sought out Jimmy Quick, who had toured France and could make himself understood. Jimmy was commissioned to anglicize a proper proposal and André spent hours in repeating the verbiage as taught. At the proper moment, he met the object of his adoration back of the scenes and fired his volley of transposed endearments. It had a tremendous effect all right, but it was in reverse gear. Lorette screamed and ran, but quickly returned to slap André's face, kick his shins, and push him sprawling into a mess of paint cans and brushes. Surely a disastrous ending for a well meant intention.
"Of course it turned out that Jimmy Quick, who secretly had notions of his own as to the beauty and desirability of the object of André's affections, had composed a proposal of all the vile and abusive words in the English language. Jimmy was too big for André to chastise, but as the rumor of the incident spread and the comedians began to quote freely some of the indecent phrases of the hoax, André fled the scene of torment. He left the company at Buffalo and went to Quebec where English was in limited use, and the story unknown.
"But André's juggling act was invaluable among so many amateurs. The manager went to Canada to urge his return. But by the time he succeeded, Jimmy Quick had eloped with the fair Lorette and had joined up with Cairstair's Congress of Living Wonders. And to give the matter a modern and adult finish, it turned out that André already had a wife and child in France.
"Yes, midgets—small in size and few in number—marry and raise families in about the same proportions as 'the big ones.' It is a matter of record that Mrs. Judith Skinner, herself a midget, gave birth to fourteen children. They were all of normal size. In fact, the mystery of midget existence is further complicated by the added truth that no midget ever gave birth to a midget.
"Midgets never grow bald and are usually vain in the matter of dress, probably due to the fact that in the past they were attachés of royalty. A midget is usually suave in manners and not easily embarrassed in public. Several instances are related that midgets, back in the conspiring and deceitful days of royalty, gave their patrons much information of enemy intrigues and adverse plottings against the crown.
"This story is told of a midget's participation in imperial intrigue. Richebourg, only twenty-three inches tall, was an attaché of the royal family of Orleans, deeply involved in the French Revolution. Swaddled in baby garments, he was allowed to be carried through enemy lines by an ignorant maid, bearing vital messages to friends of imprisoned royalty.
"But notwithstanding their limitations in size and number, midgets have made material contributions in science, art, and invention. Many of the present day comforts and much of our current beauty in art came from these Lilliputians. And set this down to the credit of the midget populace: few midgets, or maybe none at all, are ever convicted of the major crimes of murder, mayhem, arson, or theft. If the 'big ones' were as law-abiding as the 'little ones' there would be little need for criminal courts and jails.
"It was the establishment of democracies that gave midgets a status as a citizen. In the dark ages of the past, he had been a creature of derision, a thing to be bandied about in trade or gift. And it was in our own blessed United States of America that he began taking his proper place as a communal asset. Our own Tom Thumb and his genial wife, Lavinna Warren, traveled extensively over the world to prove that midgets were intelligent and companionable people. Later came Admiral Dot, Commodore Nutt, and others of the fraternity, to travel widely over the country, and by contact prove the worth of midgets.
"But it was Baron Leopold von Singer, an Austrian citizen and a man of great wealth, who lifted midgets out of the mental mire of being regarded as children and gave them their rightful place. The story is told that the baron became interested in little people through the pleadings of an invalid daughter. He invited several midgets to his home. Finding them agreeable and companionable, he founded a midget city with all the conveniences and accessories of a municipality to include a theater where much talent was revealed.
"In the midst of these activities Austria became a center of strife in the World War. The baron hastily moved his theatrical activities to London, and later to the United States where he toured all the larger cities to exhibit his little troupers and their talents.
"Really, the baron never planned this tour of the Singer Midgets as a money making venture. He had learned to love the little people and took keen pleasure and joy in the development of their genius to entertain the public. He paid good salaries with no thought of commercialism. But the enterprise did make money. It was a major means of revealing to the public that midgets have talents. And best of all, it furnished a wide field of employment to little people. The public wants to see midgets and fully fifty percent of these are now engaged in some form of show business.
"My personal contact with show business was made through the Singer Midgets. As a youngster I had planned to study architecture, as I had developed some talent at the drawing board. But the death of my parents interrupted my home life. I sought diversion. I visited the Singer Show at St. Louis. I had no specialty—no act—that would amuse the public, but the manager signed me up, hoping to develop something useful. And I did develop. On account of my voice being in the right pitch, I expanded into a spieler, a front man, the person who makes the announcements in front of the curtain, that does the ballyhoo for the side show or bawls out, from the center ring, the features of the concert 'that will immediately fallaawftah this pawfo'mance.'
"And for twelve years, winter and summer, night and day, I have traveled about to see our dear America at its best and its worst. In that time, I have looked into the faces of half the people of the nation and, as a corollary, I was the object of their scrutiny and comment. I got tired of the job. I wanted to get out where I could meet them, one at a time, to tell jokes, hear the news, complain about the depression, cuss Congress, and sympathize with those in distress.
"But please do not think that my aversion of the public extends to a meeting such as we have here tonight. Here, I feel happy in being permitted to meet my neighbors and grateful for the opportunity to give such publicity as I can to the accomplishments of the little people who for centuries were held in a bondage of ridicule and derision, but who now, by industry and mental accomplishments, stand side by side with all who seek to make this a better world.
"And now let's go to the circus where—"
Davy's further remarks were interrupted by applause. Led by the young minister, the seated audience rose to cheer his simple, earnest story of midget life and accomplishments.
"Now, I am doubly paid," said the little speaker, showing his first signs of embarrassment. "Maybe the double pay is for overtime; maybe you are glad that I am nearing the end of the story. At any rate, let's go out to the circus lot, even if we do not get inside the Big Top. That will shorten the program.
"I love the circus. Inside the ring of its glamorous pageantry is a circle of closely knit friendships and sociability not found in any other organization. From management to roustabout there are common ties of interest. And because a destination must be reached on the hour, and a pageant presented, there is teamwork such as I have never seen elsewhere. Personally, I think circuses, in their precision of movement and volume of property handled, have been used as models for our great United States' Armies in their muster of men and equipment and in the accuracy of transportation.
"Think of it! A big circus, in property and personnel, is the equal of a small city. On Monday, this city sets up shop in a Des Moines suburb to give two exhibitions. Tuesday it shows in Omaha; Wednesday, in Kansas City. It sets up and tears down, the same day. It changes location while you sleep. All details, from elephants to tent stakes, from kid-show banners to the great arena that shelters and seats ten thousand patrons, all must be torn down, transported, and set up between sunset and sunrise. I know of no other private enterprise that so truly represents the skill, aptitude, and energy of American genius.
"But pshaw! All of you have been to circuses! Yet there are erroneous impressions abroad that should be corrected. Circuses are, for the most part, privately owned and have grown up from small beginnings. The owners are business men such as you meet in other industries. They employ the best talent available in each department. They try to get young bank employees to handle bookkeeping and finances. Surely the man on the ticket wagon must be a wizard to handle the volume of business done within the limited time; and the boss canvasman, to lay out and erect a circus city in two hours, must know his men and property in every detail.
"But the important part of the circus business is transacted in the winter months and in remote and strange places. What are we to exhibit in the coming season? The entire world is scouted to find new and sensational features and spectacles. Not only are the jungles combed for the little known and strange creatures of earth, but the highly civilized quarters of the world should yield new accomplishments in the acrobatic field and in the latest achievements of science and art. And in these later years, all history is carefully explored for the dramatic incident that can be portrayed in glamorous pageantry for the amusement and education of those who come to the circus.
"And then comes the gravest problem of all. Where will we exhibit this planned program? Routing a circus is a technical matter. Every feature of the locale must be studied. Stock markets and boards of trade must be consulted as to the financial outlook. Crop estimates, factory production, and foreign markets are big factors in the planning. Droughts, floods, crop failures, labor troubles, and great fires are some of the many things to be avoided in the routings. All this must be planned before a pitch is made.
"Aside from the management the personnel of a circus naturally divides itself into three groups: the ring performers, the animal trainers, and the roustabouts. The first named, consisting of acrobats, tumblers, jugglers, aerial artists, and equestrians, are an exclusive class that eat at the same table and use the same Pullmans. They are not 'snooty,' just reserved. There are many foreigners among them. In some acts the entire family takes part. They are a sober lot. Hard liquor has no place on the refreshment list of a class whose life is dependent on a clear brain and a sure hand and foot. Many of them are good church folk. We could always tell when Sunday morning came by the bustle and stir to attend early Mass.
"Roustabouts, the labor battalion of the circus army, join up out of curiosity and quit when satiated. A wise boss never fixes a specific payday or else, on the day following, not enough of 'em would be left to light the cook's fire. They are the first to be rousted out in the morning and never go to bed. They are supposed to catch naps during the afternoon performance and of evenings before the menagerie is torn down for another move. However, these naps are canceled if they can contact the public for a 'touch' or gain an audience for their weird, fantastic tales of personal heroism in their life with the circus.
"And because Mister John Q. Public contacts these ne'er-do-wells and romancers, he forms wrong estimates of the business. Mister Public is further deceived in believing that the 'con man' who has a pitch nearby is connected with the enterprise. Circuses are widely advertised to appear at a certain place on a fixed date. The skin-game artists and shilabers, cheaters, flimflammers, and medicine men flock to these gatherings as flies to a picnic. They are as barnacles on a fast-moving ship, flies in the ointment of circus management. Happily much of this odium has been erased. By close cooperation with local authorities, the con man and shilaber is moved out before he starts. Unhappily the stigma of past incidents still persists.
"And now, you are happy that I am approaching the end of the chapter, and I am happy to say a final word in behalf of my favorites among the circus folks, the animal trainers. To me, these patient, hard workers are the cream of the crop. Whenever I had time to spare I was a visitor in their schools. We marvel that we can communicate by telephone and radio, but animal trainers not only make themselves understood, but they must first teach their subjects the language in which they speak. At these training schools I've seen horses, dogs, elephants, seals, and birds told in pantomime what certain words mean; they are then told to execute the exact meaning of the word. Those who teach young humans have an easy task as compared with these patient teachers of dumb, but brainy brutes.
"Animal trainers are born with the 'gift.' None, so far as I know, would shine in educational circles and none are dilettanti in the arts and sciences, yet they have that mysterious 'it' of influence and command. I've seen a great herd of elephants move in unison at a whispered word, and a dog will venture to death's door if a little, old ragged master bids him to do so. A queer relationship this! It has always fascinated me.
"But, I want you to understand, my admiration for the game does not extend to the cat family. I always turn my back and walk away when I see Beatty walk into a cage of tigers, leopards, lions, or cougars. I admire his pluck but condemn his judgment. I cannot join the general public in admiring the sinuous majesty of the cats. I was always glad to hear the final slam of the gate and to wonder if the latch caught as Clyde backed out.
"But with the rest of the trainees I am in good standing. I love to ramble around in the menagerie and hear the big talk of the gang in charge. Elephants like children and midgets. Old Mom always had a friendly greeting for me and knew in which pocket I had parked the peanuts. Seals know a lot more than they let on. However, they are a jealous set. They sulk and pout, worse than humans, if one act wins more applause than another.
"As a sort of a summary of my happy hours spent with animal trainers, I offer the opinion that dogs, because of their centuries of contact with man, are the most faithful creatures of the animal kingdom; that horses are the most useful, for this great western empire would still be a desert or a roaring wilderness had it not been for the horse. Elephants are smarter than many of the other creatures. They can reason from cause to effect. This I know, for one dark, rainy night when we were stuck in the mud trying to get off the lot at Columbus, old Canhead Fortney was using two of the smaller Asiatics to shove the big cages out of the mire. Jerry Quiggle had six horses on a chain and was surging away to get the wagons out to the pavement. Canhead moved the little elephants around back of the big rhinoceros cage and fixed the head-pads for the big shove. But they didn't shove. Canhead bawled and fussed around in the dark and thought he had a mutiny on his hands. Presently he heard Jerry, up in front, hooking on the chain and clucking to the horses. Then the little Asiatics, without further orders, bent to their task and the big cage rolled out to the hard surface. Canhead apologized for his error. He stopped at a hydrant and washed the mud off the elephants' legs and gave 'em an extra feed.
"But of all the animals under training, I think seals are the smartest. They are uncanny in their reasoning. They do unexpected things. When seals are associated with human beings as long as dogs they will speak our language and do it correctly. I think seals like to tour the country in the hope that some day they can go back to the ocean, to the rocks and cliffs and slides, to tell the other seals just how dumb we humans are.
"And that's about all, my friends. I realize that my rambling remarks are poor pay for the splendid little horse I got. Really, if my time and talk is the value of exchange, I would be here for a week, telling of the tragedies and comedies I've seen in this vast, fast-moving business. I could tell of the big blow-down we had in Texas; of the train wreck in the Carolinas; of the near elephant stampede we had when the woman raised her parasol as the parade was forming in Frankfort. And to show how closely tragedy and comedy are interwoven, I'll ring down the final curtain by telling this incident.
"At Toledo, the Grand Entry was forming for the night performance. In the menagerie tent the animals, chariots, Roman soldiers, and attendants were being lined up for the Grand March. In the lineup were two hippopotamuses. It was a new feature, having these big brutes free and unrestrained in a parade. Just as the march started, old Fisheye Gleason, a seasoned old retainer who cleaned out cages, fed the animals, and who claimed he was with Noah when he landed his animal collection on Mount Ararat; old Fisheye was climbing down from the top of a cage when he stumbled and fell right on the back of a hippo. Now a hippo isn't classed with the smart animals. He makes up in bulk what he lacks in brains. He is billed as being the 'Blood-Sweating Behemoth of Holy Writ.'
"But it was Fisheye that did the sweating. He didn't want to fall off to be run over by the chariots and it was hard to stick on the round, fat hippo. And the poor, scared hippo ran through the band, scattering musicians and horns, ran round the arena with Fisheye aboard, and finally scrambled up about four tiers in the reserved seats to an entangling stop. So far as I know, this was the only parade that Fisheye ever headed, and Toledo was the only city to witness such a Grand Entry.
"Thank you, one and all, for your kindly indulgence."
Again the young minister headed the prolonged applause, but he motioned for the audience to remain seated for a final word.
"This is one of the happy events of my life," he said enthusiastically. "I have been well entertained, and have gained much valuable information on two subjects that I knew little about. And now that I am to add a further paragraph as to our material gains, I hope our guest and entertainer will understand our deep appreciation of his presence with us and his thoughtful remarks.
"Brother Peyton informs me that the receipts of the evening amount to four hundred and seventy-one dollars. This is a giant sum to be collected voluntarily, in a small community, in a time of depression and for an entertainment that was wholly home talent and given at little expense.
"Our parent church provides for loans to be made, to match sums donated for building purposes. I am making application for such a loan. I have contracted for the purchase of the old Hartman home at the corner of Laramie Street. It needs a new roof and new paint. If a partition is torn out it will be ample for our church needs just now. Tomorrow I will canvass the community for volunteers to do this work. I have already made some inquiry on this matter and feel sure that we can get donations of three hundred manpower hours for this task.
"So what you two have accomplished this night," said the youthful preacher in closing, "will be shown in our church records. It will be recorded that a handsome, enthusiastic young girl and a former circus performer made the initial contributions that established a church in a community where it was said that such a thing was impossible. I thank you all for your presence here, for your labors, and your contributions."
16[ToC]
Sunday was a quiet day at the Gillis home. It was freighted with both doubt and hope. Landy and Davy were out of bed at four o'clock Monday morning. At five they were in the saddle; at six-thirty they were at the Carter filling station. Adine had just arrived and had introduced herself to old Maddy, seated on the porch. She heard a brief recital as to the cause of his injuries and as Landy and Davy rode up she invited the invalid to accompany the party.
"It will do you good," she explained, "for after the snows come you must stay in the house for a long time. We three ride the front seat but there is a long, narrow seat at the rear where you can prop up your injured feet and view the scenery."
Maddy laughed. "I've seen too much scenery already. I feel more like resting than I do gadding. I am, however, deeply interested in your project. If you take over that Barrow ranch and get Hulls out of the country, I want to recommend a tenant—a companionable fellow and a hard worker that will make a good neighbor and bring decency out of that disgrace. It's young Goff, who saved my life. He lives over the state line; raises sheep and cattle; has no family, and needs expansion. He would make that Tranquil Meadow area bloom like a rose."
"Well, I'm not the buyer," cautioned Adine, "but I will certainly use my influence. Your benefactor has already proven his worth as a citizen, and we need that kind of folks to live down the past. I will do my best."
Landy and Davy had parked their horses in the Carter corral to take their place in the awaiting car. At near the noon hour they parked in front of the National Bank in Cheyenne.
"What's your birthday?" inquired the gentlemanly cashier, as Davy made inquiry as to the receipt of the draft.
"May thirtieth," responded Davy promptly.
The cashier laughed as he produced the expected document. "Your sending party seems to know you very well, and know how to solve our problem of identification. Do you want to open an account?"
"Well, I suppose that's the way it should be handled. I want to pay the most of it to Mr. Logan, if he's prepared to accept it. I want to pay Mr. Spencer here one hundred dollars and he wants to add that to the account of Mrs. Gillis and I should add fully fifty dollars to that account to keep sweet with the best cook I ever encountered. Then, too, I should pay Mr. Finch fifty dollars. After that, if there is any left, I hope you can keep it for me until I can add it up to a profitable figure."
"Ah! here's Mr. Logan," interrupted the cashier. "You gentlemen just come into the customers' room and we will work out the details."
"You are prompt. I thought I would beat you here," said Logan to Davy and his party. "Saturday I had a deed prepared to the Barrow ranch and had the judge approve the sale with the conditions of possession as stated agreed. I have it here and ready for delivery."
It was Mr. Gore, the courteous cashier, who took charge of the business. He secured the endorsement of Davy's draft, took his verified signature, drew the required checks, saw them signed and exchanged. The entire transaction was completed in a few minutes.
"You will see Mr. Finch before I do," said Davy to Logan. "Will you please hand him this check for fifty which completes my obligations to him and tell him that I am having the cattle remaining on the ranch appraised. If the appraisal warrants, I will pay the balance of his bill and send the remainder to Hulls Barrow."
"Appraised! Bosh!" snorted the bank receiver. "You'll not get close to see any part of the ranch, let alone counting the scrub cattle. I've been up against old Hulls and his gun, and I know what I'm talking about."
"The cattle have already been counted," said Davy quietly, "and I had my first view of the Bar-O Friday. The cattle seem in good flesh but the general property needs a lot of repair. I was very sorry to see Mr. Barrow leave; I could have used a man of his firm determination...."
"Leave?" demanded Logan. "Is Hulls gone?"
"Left Friday morning early, taking with him his gun, dog, chickens, household plunder, and worst of all, Maizie. And that woman was the exact type I needed."
"Where did they go?" questioned the astonished receiver.
"Except for the coop of chickens and the household goods, it looked like a picnic. However, their guide, mentor, and boss had a faraway look in his eye—seemed impatient to get going. Who was he? Well, I don't know the folks hereabouts." Turning to Landy, Davy drawled, "Who was that fellow that was driving?"
"Hit was Collins, Ugly Collins, en from the way he was bossin' en pushin' along, he was tryin' to make hit to Denver by nightfall."
"Well, he certainly upset my plans," said Davy resignedly. "But that's what one encounters in making trades, Mr. Logan. You plan out what you are going to do, only to find out that others also make plans.
"Well, folks," said Davy, picking up the new account book and pad of checks, "where is that famous restaurant that you've been talking about? Landy's breakfasts have no stretch in 'em, don't last. I'm wolfish. Well, good-by, Mister Logan, and good-by, Mister Gore. I hope we have pleasant relations. Good-by all." And Davy ushered his party to the street.
Seated in the Little Gem, awaiting service, it was Adine Lough that opened the conversation. "I hardly know how I am to get home," she said. "I don't like driving alone, but I certainly don't want to be found in the company of two heartless comedians who seek to inject their comedy into staid business transactions. I thought Mr. Logan's lower jaw would drop off when you fastened the blame of the entire move on his friend Ugly Collins. I could hardly repress my tears in your great loss of Maizie's services. I think Mr. Logan was affected too. Shame on both of you for being so heartless."
"Yes, Logan kinda got his fingers bruised in his own b'ar trap," said Landy thoughtfully. "I hope his bankin' efforts won't git tangled up in some of his deep plannin'. Logan will git his bank started all right; but when this depression lifts en things git goin' Adot will still need a bank; this one will turn out to be 'Logan's Tradin' Post' er 'Logan's Deadfall.' Ye can revive a bank by man-made laws, but hit takes more than a slicker to keep hit goin'. Have you two settled the hay trade?"
"Yes," said Adine, "you are to have all the stacks and ricks in the south field. I think Mr. Potter estimated it at near one hundred tons. You can have the use of one of our trucks for hauling, but you will probably have to hire help to move it. Our folks have never exchanged work with the Bar-O. Our help will probably want to wait to see if the new management is any improvement on the former control." The raillery of the youngest and happiest of the trio was seemingly lost on the two, now immersed in heavy responsibilities.
Davy returned to the car; Adine Lough would telephone a school friend and window shop while Landy went to the hardware store to buy some needed kitchen accessories as directed in a brief note that he had crumpled in a deep pocket. Before two o'clock the party was well on the way to Carter's.
Less than a month ago David Lannarck had traveled this same road. Then he was amazed at the shifting changes, the glory of its loneliness, and the utter absence of the curious and gawking. In his decade of travel he never encountered the land of his dreams, the wide open spaces that reached from here to the horizon and free of human beings. His business led him to the congested spots on the earth. If and when he traveled with a circus he spent his spare hours in the animal tent. Here he was not taunted with verbal gibes. Maybe this was his reason for liking animals. Always, he dreamed of the day when he could own dogs, horses, or any living thing that didn't smirk or titter.
And now, on this fine October afternoon, all past hopes and dreams had come true; his foot was in the doorway to an earthly heaven. He was the owner of a ranch (maybe Ralph Gaynor would condemn the investment) and it had length and breadth and the desirable loneliness. He was the owner of a grand little horse (maybe Jess and the gang of the circus would scorn his size and color). He was the sole owner of a herd of cattle (surely the experts and maybe the general public would classify them as scrubs and yellow-hammers) and best of all, he had acquired a few understanding friends, true and loyal. During the time of the long trip back to their horses he was in deep thought. His meditations did not concern finances, nor that other pressing question: when will this depression end? Truly he was trying to muster arguments and reasons whereby he could persuade his mentor to move the scrub yearlings, now quartered at the Cliffs, up to the stables and corrals with the rest of the cattle.
For this midget, David Lannarck, was very human. Possessed of an alert and active mind, he had, throughout adulthood, ever been classified as a child. He would use his recent accomplishments and present status to frustrate that persistent impression. Secretly but in all details he planned the coup.
First, he would persuade Landy to round up those yearlings in a group with the rest of the cattle; second, on the basis that a general picture of the enterprise was sorely needed to bolster his financial standing, he would have a photographer present, taking views of all phases of the adventure; thirdly, and most important, he, Davy, would be astride Peaches, mingling with the several cow hands against a background of milling cattle, either in the wide open spaces or in the corrals at the stables. Copies of these pictures he would send to all his old associates in vaudeville or in the circus business. Particularly, he would send several copies to Ralph Gaynor, president of the Dollar Savings, hoping that one of them might be displayed where the general public could see that a midget, a former resident, was active with other adults in the most fascinating business in America. He was not seeking to establish financial credit; that he had, in substantial deposits and other well known securities, but he wanted to get away from the persistent notion of classifying midgets as children.
Meanwhile Adine and Landy, having exhausted merry quips and scornful comparisons of the past and future management of the Bar-O, now gave serious exchanges of opinions as to who would make a suitable tenant for the property that was to be built up to a going concern. Landy mentioned the names of a dozen old-time cattle men, now unemployed and surely available. None of these suited the notions of the young lady whose persistent idea was building up the neighborhood. She, too, mentioned the names of many, few of them known to the old timer. Finally the girl mentioned the name of Maddy's benefactor, young Goff, now residing across the state line. "He's in cramped quarters over there, I understand," said the girl casually.
"He's the best man in the deestrict," said Landy thoughtfully. "But he's got the same problems we have. He's got critters to feed, en he can't run two places when the snow is here. I hope, however, that Davy here can make him a permanent offer that will move him at once.
"But we've got to git them yearlin's outa the Cliffs en up to the stables," Landy announced emphatically. "We can't haul hay, wean calves, en be traipsin' all over ten sections to feed a few critters. We've got to bunch 'em en show 'em that we mean business."
"That's right, Landy," was Davy's prompt approval. "Can we get that young Goff tomorrow? Is there a good photographer in Adot? When can we haul the hay?"
"Thar ye go crowdin' the question chute," complained Landy as the party arrived at the filling station. "Tomorry we've got to be in Adot. We've got a deed to record; got to buy some ground feed, if them calves are to be weaned; got to hire a lot of exter hay hands en enough he'p to corral them yearlin's. En besides all that," he cautioned, "we've got to go to the register's office en git a substitute brand, fer old Hulls has shorely carried off the old irons outa pure cussedness. Kin ye he'p us tomorry?" His question was directed to Adine Lough as the two got out of the car.
"Yes, I've enlisted for the duration. I am anxious to learn if the new management is an improvement over the old. Recent happenings have created doubts. Come over in the morning; I want to see the finish."
17[ToC]
A veteran cow hand or a frequenter of the modern rodeo would have walked out on the roundup of the scattered kine of the Bar-O ranch on this gray October day. There was scarcely a thrill in the entire performance.
At Welborn's insistence, Davy invited young Byron Goff to help out in the work to be done. "I may not be here always," explained Welborn, "and Landy won't be here forever. Young Goff is your bet. He's a square shooter, a good worker, and his sheep and your cattle are too few to awaken the old-time cattle and sheep wars. Tie in with Goff."
And Goff came to look the place over and make a tentative contract. A day or two before the general roundup Landy and Flinthead had turned out the gentle cattle that stayed around the barns and sheds to mingle with nervous yearlings that headquartered at the Cliffs. On the morning of the roundup young Goff and Flinthead made a wide detour to appear at the easternmost side. The startled kine moved west, and kept moving west as they found scattered riders on either side. At the gate, where trouble was expected, a few "yip-yips" and a hurried push sent the entire herd through the gates to a safe enclosure.
To David Lannarck, this was the climax of his varied career. He had a photographer present to take many successful shots, although the day was raw and gray. His circus friends may not have been impressed as they viewed the pictures but Davy spent happy hours in looking them over, especially the one where he, mounted on Peaches, was heading off an obstinate calf.
The hay hauling from the B-line was interrupted by a snow storm that persisted for several days. Davy had to stay at home to train Peaches in many fancy tricks and to keep a path open to the Gillis home. Welborn, however, took no part in these activities. He continued his work at the ravine and expressed joy that a heavy snow would prevent a deep freeze of the gravel. In fact, much of his time was consumed in insulating the pumps, the waterpipes and the area where he was to work. He was often delayed by the severity of the weather but as the dreary weeks passed the heap of little sacks that contained his gleanings grew to a considerable pile.
And in these monotonous months of near-solitude Davy Lannarck found the satisfaction and contentment of his former dreams. In five months he saw less than a half score of people. In his waking hours his time was spent in training Peaches and playing with the Gillis dogs. Most of the time he kept the way open to the Gillis demesne, but on two occasions at least, he was denied that privilege; the heavy, swirling snows that swept over this mountain region were too much for a midget man and a midget horse. It was Landy Spencer and the larger horses that conquered the big drifts and made a passable thoroughfare between the Point and the Gillis home. But spring came as is its wont; the great snowdrifts yielded to the demands of the sun and southern winds and the returning flights of birds heralded the change of seasons.
But the big change in conduct and occupation was in Sam Welborn. In the short, dark, snowy days he labored in the recesses of the canyon from early dawn to nightfall, but as the days lengthened and brightened, he puttered about the house sorting and packing some of his personal effects, pressing his limited supply of clothing, constructing a strong box to contain his gleanings, and losing no chance to learn of the conditions of the roads to Cheyenne and points beyond. It was apparent to his few acquaintances that he was now prepared to overcome some past adversities that had hindered his progress in other fields.
One evening after supper at the Gillis home Welborn made a limited disclosure of his future plans. "As soon as the roads are fit, I want to go to the assay office in Denver and cash up on past efforts," was his opening statement. "I hope Jim can take time out to drive me there and bring the car back, for I want to make a trip back East to be gone for a week or two. After I have finished up my business in that area I want to come back here and loaf around a spell and get acquainted with my neighbors and benefactors. As Davy has often said, 'The gold up in the ravine will keep.' The claims are registered in our names, and we can, from time to time, work 'em to keep 'em alive.
"At the assay office," Welborn continued, "I will cash in the little dab that I had accumulated before Davy advanced the money to buy the pump and accessories; the rest is partnership funds to be divided and depos—"
"Hold on!" interrupted Davy. "You've sheltered me, fed me—"
"—with grub bought with your money," interposed Welborn. "You can't avoid past contributions by present-day denials, Laddie. Without your help it would have taken me ten years to do what I've now done in six months. And speed was and is the important requirement. In addition to all you've done in the past months I've still got another problem for you to work on."
Welborn paused, seemingly embarrassed as to how to proceed. His little audience waited breathlessly. "Folks, I am not a criminal!" he said after a prolonged pause. "But I did get involved with gangsters. Although I made a temporary clean-up on some of them, domestic affairs and financial disasters made it impossible to stay on. It seemed cowardly to quit but there was no other way. I had no plans, no trade, no profession. I simply stumbled in on this method of financial recovery, and thanks to your kindly indulgence I am prepared to go back and make good some financial matters that were not of my making.
"But in going back," Welborn continued, "I would like to know something about conditions there before they know who I am. There seems to be two ways to do this. One would be to camp nearby and send someone to investigate and report back as to conditions; the other would be for me to disguise myself and loaf around as a laborer, unemployed and looking for work.
"You know something about make-up and disguises, Laddie; could I be made up as a laborer or a village loafer so I could sit around and listen in?"
"You would have to let them shoulders down and pad a hump in your back," replied the little man. "Appearances can be radically changed but size is a handicap. There is a woman in Denver by the name of Wallace that can make you up to look like either an angel or a tramp. She used to be in vaudeville with costumes and makeup, now she's settled down in the legit—furnishes costumes for plays, charades, and the like. She's on one of those little side streets near the business district. She'll clip your head, deck you out in scraggy iron-gray hair and whiskers until a bank clerk would turn you down, even if you were identified. She'll tell you about your clothing; that's her specialty. Your ragged coat ought to have a hump in the back to offset erectness and if you carry a cane, you should use it—not twirl it like a baton.
"But there's one of your assets, or weaknesses, that she will not be able to disguise," said Davy earnestly. "I take a chance in wrecking a fine friendship, to tell you about it."
"Go right on, Sonny Boy," said Welborn, "you couldn't wreck our friendship if you were to spit in my face."
"Well, we folks here know nothing about your past. We don't want to know until you release it, but I'll bet my interest in the Bar-O against a thin dime that you've served in the army and were a tough old 'top-kick' at that. You want things done your way. You resist being told. You want to correct the other fellow if he's wrong; even if disguised, you would interrupt and correct and maybe jam the whole works. Of course we want you to win but you've got to be careful—even if it hurts."
Welborn's face flushed but he laughed sheepishly as he pondered the charges made. "You've got me dead-to-rights, Laddie; I am impatient and domineering, but I think I still have control. Just now I need information. I want to know if I am classed as a criminal or a citizen back in my home town. Personally, I would like to go back there, loaf around and listen in.
"Well, it can be done," said Davy emphatically, "and I think I ought to be an assistant. You saved my life, now I want to be a party to saving your reputation. You are not a criminal; you couldn't be one if you tried. Just tell me the name of your home town and I will go there as the advance man for Lannarck's Congress of Living Wonders. I'll be seeking a site to assemble the company and plan the rehearsals. While there I will want the history of the town and the chamber of commerce will give it to me. In that history, your affair in all its details will be recited. Later on, you can stumble in as a laborer, seeking work. I will be quartered at the leading hotel, and you at a boarding house out by the junction. But we will meet at the picture show or at a local poolroom and I will hire you to take care of the baggage and the accessories as they come in. It won't take us long to get your status, pay your fine, or get the judge to suspend your sentence.
"Let's get going, podner," said Davy, as he clambered down from his chair. "We'll both go to Cheyenne; you go to Denver to cash up and fade out; I'll go to your town to pay out and horn in."
Welborn smiled as he listened to Davy's enthusiasm and slang. He drummed his fingers on the table as he considered his proposals. "I hadn't thought of involving any of our home-folks in my troubles," said he thoughtfully, "but maybe your assistance and plan will be the thing that's needed. I want information. People will stare at and talk to a midget and they will pay little attention to the badly dressed old gent with whom he associates. Anyhow, it won't hurt to try it out."
Davy insisted that the party should start for Cheyenne the very next morning. James Gillis, who was to do the driving, would wait until he learned of road conditions. Welborn occupied much of the time in fitting himself with old shoes, overalls, hickory shirts, and a slouch hat. On Monday, Jim learned that the nearby trails were fit for travel to the paved highway and on Tuesday morning the party of three loaded the little car with boxes of metal, bundles of clothing, and the like, and started for Cheyenne.
During the long drive, Welborn took up much of the time in instructing Davy as to his destination and duties. "Bransford, a near suburb of Chicago, is your destination," he explained, "and the man who insulted the better element of the community by his insistence that the prevailing lawlessness was wholly due to their negligence was named Shirley Wells. And this same Wells, when he found that gangsters had taken over the management of the old family bank and brought disrepute to an honored name, staged a battle with these invaders that sent two of 'em to the hospital and maybe resulted in the death of one or both. Was he indicted? Did a mob form? He did not wait to see. With the family estate squandered, this Wells boarded a night freight train to avoid present responsibilities and to seek a new start in life. His linen and underwear was marked S.W. He changed his name to Samuel Welborn. You know the rest of the story, Davy, but there is a lost chapter in the tale. What's the present-day status of Shirley Wells in his home town?
"In Bransford, you will headquarter at the Grand Union Hotel. Following your 'broadcast' about establishing a training ground for the Kid Show, you must quietly go to the office of Fred Townsend for information. He's a lawyer. If he's alive, I've got a chance; if he's dead, Shirley Wells is still Sam Welborn and the Silver Falls district must continue as his hideout.
"In your contact with Townsend, tell him that I sent you—that you are my A.Z.—and he will understand. What you tell him is casual; your objective is to find out all about the standing of Shirley Wells. Shirley is surely a bankrupt, but is he a murderer? Are indictments pending? Can he be cleared of these charges? And what about the Wells National Bank? And where is Carson Wells? These are the things we must know if I am to live as a citizen or a criminal.
"I will be in Denver for a few days. We surely have more than sixty thousand dollars' worth of metal in those containers. Some of it may be in bad shape. Some of it may have to be rectified, as they term it, and that will cause delay. Then, too, I am not certain if your lady friend in Denver can do her job effectively. I wouldn't want to be caught in a disguise. At any rate, I will be in Chicago or Bransford some day next week."
At the railway station Jim Gillis maneuvered the ancient model to unload the metal and clothing at the Denver platform. Davy purchased a ticket for Chicago. Welborn's read "to Denver and return."