PREPARATIONS
The next few days were busy ones for Whitey and his friends. It was vacation time, and as soon as Whitey had the "honest-to-goodness" assurance that he was "really and truly" going out West, he lost no time in communicating the news to all the boys. He found Tom Johnson at breakfast; but after Tom had heard the news, he had no further appetite, and went with Whitey over to the home of George and Bobby Smith, and the four boys went out to talk over the matter. Whitey's equipment was a matter for much consideration.
"Gee!" said Tom, "you'll need a revolver—Colt's forty-five is what all the cowboys use—an' the sheriffs, too. An' a Winchester rifle."
"Yes," said George, "an' 'f I was you, I'd take a lot o' fishin'-tackle and rods an' reels an' things. You bet there's fish out there in Montana—I've heard the fish are so thick in some river out there that you can walk in an' ketch 'em with your hands!"
"I guess you're thinking of the Columbia River salmon—that ain't in Montana," said Whitey, who was up in geography.
"Well," said George, unconvinced, "it's right out there in the West, some place—mebbe you could tramp over there some afternoon. I know I would 'f I was out there!"
"Well, I'll tell you what I'd do," chimed in Bobby, excitedly, "'f I was you, the first thing I got would be a big felt hat an' some cowboy clothes! If you don't they all call you a "tenderfoot," an' they'll make you do a dance by shootin' at your feet! I've seen 'em do it in the movies lots o' times." Bobby was aged six, but he had advanced ideas and experience, too. "An' you're going to want a saddle an' a lariat an' a good pair o' snow-shoes—it snows fierce out there in Montana an' Alaska an' all those places—'tain't safe to go any place without snow-shoes! A blizzard is liable to come up any old time!"
The wisdom of all this was readily admitted; and after a list had been carefully prepared, the four boys went to a big sporting-goods store and submitted it, and asked to see the various articles. The clerk looked the list over and got out the various things it called for, which included everything from a baseball—which Tom said "might come in handy"—to snow-shoes. Each of the boys handled and carefully inspected each article and approved it. Whitey had looked at some woodman's hatchets, but Bobby suggested that Whitey could take a tomahawk away from the first Indian he killed and thus save expense.
"How much would all that come to?" asked Whitey, a little apprehensively.
The clerk figured it up. "One hundred and sixty-eight dollars and forty cents," he said cheerfully.
A hurried audit of the finances of the party revealed the fact that the cash capital on hand amounted to two thirty-six!
"Just send them up to the house," said Whitey, loftily, and he gave the name and the address. One of the proprietors stood near and listened smilingly to the whole transaction; and when the boys had gone, he went to the telephone.
Mr. Sherwood, in his office, picked up the receiver, and a familiar voice came over the wire: "Hello, Sherwood! This is Robertson. Your boy was just in here with some friends and bought out the store! He's evidently going out West—with a vengeance!"
"Is that so?" laughed Mr. Sherwood. "What did he buy?"
"I can tell you what he didn't buy easier than what he did! The bill amounts to one hundred and sixty-eight, forty. What do you want me to do?—he said to send the stuff up to the house!" and Robertson laughed the good-natured laugh of a man who appreciates boys.
"Great Jehosaphat!" said Mr. Sherwood. "What kind of a selection did he make?"
"Well," answered Mr. Robertson, "it isn't altogether bad, but of course, he's got a lot of things that he won't need at all. It's June, and he has selected an elegant pair of snow-shoes!"
"My, my!" exclaimed Mr. Sherwood. "Can you beat it?"
"Yes," answered Mr. Robertson, "I think I can. He had expert advice from the three youngsters who were with him and it was more or less a consultation purchase. One of the kids assured him that it was the next thing to suicide to go around Butte, Montana, without a compass! Said a man might get into Butte and wander 'round and 'round in a circle and never get anywhere, if he didn't have a compass! Ha, ha! I guess that beats the snow-shoes, doesn't it?"
"I'll have to admit that it does!" laughed Mr. Sherwood. "Any other freak stuff?"
"Well," laughed Mr. Robertson, "I wish you'd run over here and take a look at it! Or, if you say so, I'll send it all up to the house and you can return anything you don't want him to have. It is certainly surprising how much those kids know about the West, at that. I suppose they get it from the movies—the outfit wouldn't be bad for a man, but I know you don't want that kid of yours to have some of the things. There's a Colt forty-five and a 'scalping-knife', the boys called it, a foot long, among other things."
"I'm not really surprised," laughed Mr. Sherwood. "The minute Alan heard the news about the ranch, he declared war on Indians and grizzlies! Don't bother to send the stuff up to the house—I'll bring the boy in and buy some stuff before I go. Thanks for calling me up! I need a few things, myself, but they are strictly in the line of peace."
That evening, after dinner, Mr. Sherwood said, good-naturedly, "Mr. Robertson tells me that you made a few purchases to-day, Son?"
"Yes," answered Whitey, "but they haven't come. I've been looking for them all afternoon—I guess something's the matter."
"Have you got the list of the things you ordered?" asked his father. "I'd like to look at it—maybe I can make some suggestions—possibly you didn't get enough?" and Mr. Sherwood repressed a smile.
"Oh, yes! I guess I got about everything I wanted. Tom and George and Bobby were with me, and the things I didn't think of they did. It only came to one hundred and sixty-eight dollars, and you know I've got more than two hundred in the savings bank." And Whitey showed the list to his father.
Mr. Sherwood examined it with a good deal of interest. "Well," he said, "this shows that you have been thinking the matter over and getting prepared—which is all right. But I don't believe I'd carry all these things out there, if I were you. They can be bought there just as well, and many of them are unnecessary. It's summer now, and I don't think you'll need any snow-shoes just yet, and as for rifle and revolver, I'm not sure that I ought to buy you anything in that line until you know something more than you do about handling them. We'll see to that after we get out there."
"Do you mean to say that there are stores—regular stores—out there in Montana?" asked Whitey, in astonishment.
"Oh, yes," smiled Mr. Sherwood, "some very fine ones—you can buy about anything there that you can here. And as for those 'cowboy clothes,' I think a couple of good suits of corduroy would be better—the big felt hat is all right—after you get used to it. I'll get you everything you need, though I'd like to have you suggest things for me to get and I'll tell you whether you should have them. It is well for a boy to study out those things for himself, and then take advice of some one who knows as to the things he really needs.
"On a man's first trip into the West, he almost always takes a lot of stuff that is of no value to him, and might better be left at home. But, there is such a thing as not taking enough, and we'll be careful to avoid that."
Then he added, "And another thing, Son—you won't find that there is as much difference between New York and Montana as you think. You mustn't get the idea that people out there are altogether savages, and that Indians and 'bad men' go around shooting up people every day. Of course, there is a little of that sort of thing, even now; but I believe there are more people murdered in New York City every year than in all the states west of the Mississippi put together. I may be wrong, but I think not."
Whitey looked much disappointed, and his father laughed as he saw his rueful face. "You'll see plenty of adventure—don't worry about that! But you'll find people a good deal the same as they are here."
"Don't the Indians put on war-paint and feathers and have a war-dance and scalp the pale-faces—and things like that?" asked Whitey, reluctant to give up all his cherished traditions.
"Well, not exactly," said Mr. Sherwood, smiling. "The sheriff won't let 'em. He just locks 'em up until they get sober, and then puts 'em to work on the rock-pile."
This seemed to take a good deal of enchantment out of things, and Mr. Sherwood added, "I am speaking, of course, of where we are going. There are many places where the Indians have to be watched and reckoned with; but you won't be very likely to get into those places."
Out on the front steps, later in the evening, Whitey and the boys held a consultation, and the sad news about the gun and the revolver was received with much apprehension and shaking of heads.
"Gee!" said Tom, "I'd certainly hate to be out West among those bears an' panthers an' cowboys an' Indians without a gun!"
"We'll simply haf' to get Whitey one—somehow!" said George who was much concerned. "'Tain't safe for a man out there 'thout he's heeled! Mebbe," he continued, after some thought, "if Whitey ain't goin' till next week we can manage it—somehow!"
Bobby, the youngest boy of the lot, was as much alarmed about Whitey's safety as anybody, but he said nothing. However, he gave the matter deep and even prayerful thought. On his knees, that night, he concluded his prayers—"And, Lord, please don't let Whitey go out West without a revolver! You know it ain't safe! Amen!"
And that was why Bobby's father never could find that little, pearl-handled pistol that he kept in the automobile!
Many of the boys in the neighborhood dropped in, and by bedtime Whitey was the most envied as well as the most popular boy on the block. He had promised a bear or a panther-skin to every one of his pals, allowing each of them to make his own selection—some preferred bear, some panther, with a slight demand for buffalo. It was all the same to Whitey.
There were requests for souvenir Indian scalps, but Whitey was doubtful about supplying them. And they in return, had given him much sage advice as to how he should conduct himself when he came in contact with the desperate characters, both man and beast, that he must inevitably encounter in the wilds of Montana. It was unanimously agreed that a compass was necessary.
"This goin' around Butte without a compass, is takin' a chance," said Tom, with a warning shake of his head. "'Most as bad as bein' without a gun! If a man ain't got a compass," warned Tom, for the sixth time, "an' he gets lost, he goes 'round and 'round in a circle and doesn't get anywhere!"
It was agreed that this would be very bad in Butte!