CHAPTER XIX.
It was a bright November morning three years later that two heavily loaded automobiles were tearing their way along the Scenic Highway that had been constructed from St. Paul to Seattle. Each car contained three passengers besides the drivers, and piled high on the running boards and strapped on the back of each car was the baggage and camp equipment of the party.
At a point in the desert along the eastern boundary of which the Highway ran, it paralleled the railway, and ran thus for several miles, and was intercepted by roads leading from homes that could be seen farther back across the sagebrush covered plain. These homes were not numerous, but each in the bright sunlight that caused the shimmering, dancing mirage to hover over the patches of dark green alfalfa and orchards that surrounded them, showed the tourists plainly that the conquest of the desert, in some instances, had been accomplished.
On this particular morning, a wagon, drawn by four splendid horses and loaded high with bales of alfalfa that still retained the green of the field from which it had been cut, so perfect had been the process of curing, was being driven from one of these homes by a man by whose side sat a chubby faced boy of some eight or nine years.
The wagon had just turned into the highway a short distance ahead of the rapidly moving cars, and as they approached with their horn coughing a dusty warning, the driver drew out to one side to await their passing. The first car rushed by and disappeared in a cloud of dust, and the one in the rear, seeing the trouble the driver was having with his now thoroughly frightened team, came along beside the wagon more slowly and asked if they could be of assistance in straightening out the tangled horses.
Travis Gully, for it was he and Joe who were on the wagon, said if someone would go to the head of the leaders until he could get down, he thought he could manage them until the car had gone by. One of the men sprang from the car and was advancing to seize the horses bridles, when looking up, he stopped short for an instant and reaching his hand up to Gully, exclaimed, "Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Gully. How are you?"
Travis Gully, taking his attention from the horses which had now quieted down since the car had stopped, looked at the man on the ground for an instant, and bursting into a laugh as he recognized Thomas Dugan the surveyor, he half climbed and half fell from the wagon, and grasped Dugan by the hand and shook it cordially.
By this time another occupant of the car, who proved to be Mr. Palmer, came forward, and after greeting Gully, inquired as to the health of the rest of the family. Upon being assured that they were doing nicely, Mr. Palmer said, "I am certainly glad to hear it. We will probably be out your way tomorrow. We left Spokane early this morning and are going through to Wenatchee for lunch. The owners of the land you cleared are in the car that just passed."
Dugan had helped Joe from the wagon, and was commenting on his growth, when Mr. Palmer asked Gully if they could assist him with his horses, if not they would go on as they wished to overtake the other car in the village just ahead.