Cole of Spyglass Mountain

by Arthur Preston Hankins

Joshua was so successful in the building of his observatory, with its conical, revolving metal dome, that he wrote an article, entitled “A Home-made Observatory for $300,” and sent it to The Universe. He had carefully followed instructions in the author’s article that he had among his notes, and had improved on the plans and specifications. It was a proud day when he rode home on Argo from Ragtown and showed Madge his check for twenty-five dollars from The Universe.

He had bought a second-hand typewriter, and of evenings, while the building of the observatory was under way, had applied himself to authorship with that tireless energy which already had carried him so far in his studies. And the following spring his article, “Speculations on the Physiology and Anatomy of the Inhabitants of Mars,” which was published in The American Astronomer, brought him many letters from interested readers, and some of them were men well known in scientific circles. Joshua received only ten dollars for this contribution, but if his check had been for a thousand it could not have given him the pleasure that the letters did. The editors of the magazine commented at length upon the freshness of his work and asked to see more of it, with the result that they accepted, before the publication of his first paper, “Fissures or Canals?—A Study of the Surface Features of Mars,” and “The Atmosphere of Mars.” Then the editor of The Journal of Astronomy wrote to him and asked him to submit something. After the rejection of two of his articles, “Is Mars a Lifeless Planet?” was accepted; and a check for fifty dollars sent him galloping to Madge on Argo, waving the strip of blue paper like the banner of a conquering hero, as he saw her looking out the window.

Before “Is Mars a Lifeless Planet?” was in press Joshua received a telegram, days late because of the snowdrifts in the mountain gaps that had retarded the mail stage, asking for a companion article of about four thousand words telling who he was, where he had been educated, and describing his work in telescopy. At Ragtown Joshua met California Bill, in from one of his freighting trips, when he received the belated message. California was the more enthusiastic of the two, for Joshua had the true student’s reticence about blowing his own horn.

“Tell ’em all about it, Tony,” urged Bill. “Lay it on thick. Lord, I wish I could write! I’d do it for ye, my son, an’ I’d do ’er hi-yu skookum! An’ don’t forget to say that, out here, ye’re known as Cole of Spyglass Mountain. That’s yer trade-mark. I give it to ye, an’, by golly, ye gotta use it! Go home an’ tell ’em how th’ war broke out.”

So in a whimsical mood Joshua took his friend’s advice. He made it quite clear that he had no degree, even explaining that he had never been to college. He lauded to the skies his boyhood friend, Beaver Clegg, and credited him with any success that he—Joshua—might have achieved. He told about his life in the House of Refuge, about his days as a tramp, about Ragtown and the new railroad, and how he had earned the money to buy his telescope and settle on a homestead. He hinted at the idea of the inhabitants of Mars trying to communicate with the earth through the medium of canals laid out in the form of a geometrical figure. He told of Spyglass Mountain and his observatory, and his difficulties in sledding the instrument to the summit. And last of all, to please California Bill, he mentioned that he was known in the community as Cole of Spyglass Mountain.

He gave his brief autobiography no title, and when it appeared in print, preceding his article “Is Mars a Lifeless Planet?” in the March issue of The Journal of Astronomy, California Bill’s chest bulged out with pride; for the editor had entitled it “Cole of Spyglass Mountain.”

The Scientist, a New York publication, was editorially opposed to the theory that Mars is inhabited, and they took occasion to draw Joshua over the live coals in their May issue. They admitted that his speculations were interesting, and that they were set forth with grace and power, but they laughed to scorn all of his ideas. They ridiculed his youth and inexperience, and made no bones about throwing in his teeth the fact that he had no reputation whatever as an astronomer and had the stamp of no institution’s approval upon him. The writer was vituperative and insulting, but he did Joshua more good than harm for the reason that The Scientific Weekly took up the controversy in support of him, with the result that “Cole of Spyglass Mountain” became a well-known name among the devotees of science.

And thus it came about that when Joshua’s great night arrived his name was fairly well established, and the scientific world was ready to weigh his words and give his conclusions serious thought.

By spring Ragtown was reading science. Joshua had become an object of mild ridicule before his first article appeared. Then as the press-agent work of California Bill began spreading the news that Cole of Spyglass Mountain was in print, Ragtown awoke to the realization that they had a celebrity in their midst. He was looked at in awe as he rode in on Argo, with his silvered tapaderos flapping and his bridle-reins a-jingle, sometimes with Shanty Madge beside him on her black. And when winter broke Ragtown made pilgrimage to Spyglass Mountain to see the telescope and view the heavens through its powerful lenses.

But there were two who did not come—Lee Sweet, the cattleman, and Felix Wolfgang, the gambler. And it was known to Joshua that his old enemy of the House of Refuge was still at Ragtown, and that Lee Sweet rode up often from the desert and stayed for days, carousing in The Golden Eagle. Once Joshua came face to face with him in the post office. Sweet glowered at him, swung about on his heel, and dragged his spurs into the barroom.