“Oh, no. Every few days we make a regular camp where we stay for a day or two. Then I get out the portable oven, make a wood fire, bake bread and cake, cook meat and vegetables, wash the clothes, and plan for the next jump.”
Our host went to the rear, lifted off the flat top of a fibre trunk, unfolded a set of legs and set it up as a table. Then he lifted out the seat from the second wagon, unloaded three folding camp chairs and proceeded to set the table with white enamel dishes.
Meanwhile, the young man, Peter Bates, had come in from caring for the livestock, and was introduced. We all sat down to broiled chicken, boiled potatoes warmed in gravy, hot biscuits and honey, stewed fruit, cookies and tea. The food was delicious.
“What do you think of the cooking?” enquired our host, serving us a second helping of chicken. “Not many places where you can get meals like this. We live on the fat of the land the whole year round, don’t we, honey-drips?”
“You’re quite right. That’s just what we do. And nothing to worry us, either,” responded his wife.
Mine host produced a bottle of port, while Bates brought out cigars. They greeted our pleasant refusal to indulge with uplifted brows, and when Dan passed by the perfectos as well Mr. Adams remarked: “And not even a cigarette? You are a Puritan, if I may be pardoned for saying so. Well, maybe we can do business in spite of handicaps.” He paused to light a cigar, then lounged back in the wagon seat.
“I’m a sort of sublimated pedler. I travel from town to town selling a couple of styles of window signs, which our young friend Pete here, puts up for me. Then, to insure continuous action, I take orders for a special lamp and for handy tools—combinations, you know—in the country districts. Thus I am never out of a job. The lamp orders are filled by a mail order house in Chicago, as are the ones for tools, so that I carry nothing but a sample. The signs consist of letters which are pasted on the inner side of the window glass.... You’ve seen them many times.
“Peter wants to quit us and push on to Cheyenne, and while I am perfectly competent to put up the orders, I dislike to do so. Why work, when I can profit from the labour of others? And that is where you come in. I’ll get the orders and pay you so much for each sign that you put up. In fact, I’ll even do better. If you are able to pick up an order here and there, I’ll sell you the supplies for ten per cent above cost to me. The work is easy. Any mechanical man with a true eye can manage with a little instruction and a day or two of experience.”
“Oh, yes,” young Bates broke in, “I’ve always been a clerk, but I had no difficulty in getting the hang of this thing. I wanted to go to Cheyenne, and this gave me a fine chance to see the country and make a little dough on the side.”
“A man with your experience and training should have no trouble at all in making two or three dollars a day,” the boss continued. “And it should be mostly velvet. Honey-drips has a little side line of her own. She carries a few toilet accessories to sell to the ladies. In the country districts the housewives are only too glad to have an opportunity to get such things in exchange for butter, eggs, poultry, vegetables, or even bread and canned fruit. We can always use the stuff some way and it cuts the living expenses to almost nothing. I get horse feed in exchange for tools and lamps, and often I can let the animals graze for a day at a time. Now your wife can get a supply of these female fixings for ten per cent above cost and make most of your living. After you have played the game for a month or two and find you like it, I’ll fix up that second wagon like this one here. We use it now for trips off the main line where we don’t want to take the heavy outfit.