"Mining," replied Welborn. "Placer mining back in a canyon or gulch that never felt a human footfall before I stumbled into it. It's a limited thing—limited to this ravine that is not more than fifty feet wide and a half a mile long. It was probably the old stream bed back before the Tertiary ages, but when the troubled mountain took another surge, it was left high and dry, twenty feet above water. I was working it this summer but the little bear cubs took most of my time. It takes a full day to lug enough water up to the canyon levels to wash out a pan of gravel. It takes the big part of the day to lower a sack of gravel down to the water, but at that, I have made wages. Now, I have an old rocker that was abandoned in the stream bed, but I need a pump so I can use the rocker right on the gravel bar. As it is a one-man job, it should be a force pump with a gasoline engine. All this costs money and it takes a long time to pan out enough dust to pay the bill. Really I had the money, but I just had to spend it in buying the cabin and land that was the only entrance to the placer bed. I just couldn't work the one without owning the other. Then too, I will have to blast a hole in the rock wall to get the pump located, after that, one year is all I want. One year's work will clean up all that one man ought to have. Of course I have practically lost this summer on account of the bear cub capers, and winter is at hand, but the outlook is better, thanks to your diplomacy and aid. With the money, I can live this winter and accomplish many things. By spring, I should be under full production."
"But you wouldn't stay up there in that solitude with no person around but an old grouch that probably would not have a word to say for days at a time?"
"Yes I think I would," said Davy slowly but firmly. "I think I can risk my case as to care and friendship with a man who is considerate to little bears."
Some of the circus people had finished the meal and were filing out of the tent, but Davy stayed, grimly determined to win his point. "About what would be the cost of this proposed mine equipment, and could I do some ranching around there while this was going on?"
"I figure it will take three hundred dollars to buy the pump, pump-jack and engine; these, with a few lengths of hose and some dynamite, are all that's required. Of course there will be some labor costs in getting the pump installed, but three hundred will pay all bills."
"Is that all? Why we can get that amount from Lew up at the ticket wagon. He will cash my check for that amount and be glad to do it. Holdups, you know, pass up checks. Therefore, Lew likes checks. When do you want it? Let's get it now while there is a lull in business, and you can take the pump and pipe and other gadgets right back with you in the truck."
"Do you mean that you will go with me—now—on the truck? It's more than a hundred miles to Carter's filling station and fully twenty miles more over the roughest roads—or rather no roads—to the Gillis place and then two miles more. Why, it's an all-night trip if we were to start right now!"
"No, I am to stick with the show to Omaha. We are to be in North Bend, tomorrow; Grand Island, Friday; Omaha, Saturday; and then the payoff. I will have some things to do in Omaha. I want to telephone home and ask about some friends; I will talk to my financial boss and learn if he is still weathering the financial storm and then I am ready for the big jump out to your place. Can you meet me here with this truck-trailer outfit, say about Wednesday? I will have about three hundred pounds of baggage, and we must stock up with grub against getting snowed in. Can you meet me here Wednesday? Or, if you are too busy, can you send someone?"
"Why sure I'll meet you—Wednesday or any other day—here or any other place you say." The man of the mountains was absorbing some of the little man's enthusiasm. "Sure I'll meet you, but you work so fast and drive right through that I can hardly keep up. Why, we hardly drive through with one thing until you have another. If I seem indifferent and not very responsive, it's because I haven't caught up yet. Think of it! Ten hours ago I was coming out of the hills with a serious problem that was hindering my work. Now, I am rid of the problem, have ninety dollars in cash; have the offer of all the funds I need, and prospects of a fine companion all through the dreaded winter. The change from poverty to riches has been so rapid that it's more like a dream than a reality. And here's the worst feature of the whole business," continued Welborn as the two made their way to the ticket wagon. "Here's the fly in the ointment. My side of the equation has been nothing but plus, plus. I am fearful that yours will be more than minus. You are tired of the mob; you want to get away from the crowds. You have a mental picture of the ranching business; horses, cattle, cowboys, knee-deep grass billowing through the great open spaces. It's your dream to land right in the midst of such surroundings, and your disappointments will be terrible to endure. I have no such ranch and there's none nearer than ten miles of my place. Most of the cattle nowadays are purebred; the cowboys are cow hands, feeders, and care-takers—without a mount—and many of them never saw a pair of chaps and few wear ten gallon hats like the picture books show. That stuff belongs to the rodeos and dude ranches. Why the Diamond A Ranch over on Mad Trapper Fork is a model for any manufacturing plant. It has bookkeepers, salesmen, feeders from 'aggy' schools. You won't like that; it's not up to the standards of your dream. Of course you will like old Jim Lough of the B-line Ranch. He's ninety and used to be a tough hombre of the old school. But now he's out of the picture, his son Larry runs the ranch, and he is soon to give way to a young college girl who is up on foreign markets and the like.
"My fears are that what you see and experience will not be the picture of beauty and action that you had dreamed about. My poor little place, without livestock or feed—or action—will be a terrible disappointment."