"I was prospecting down Ripple Creek Canyon and living in that shack that you can see from the rim over there. I was trying to locate a claim, mining claim. But from the homestead lines, this cabin was off the reservation, built off the edge of Stanley's claim and on the government's land where I wanted to stake off a mineral right.
"I came up out of the canyon on the day he had gotten the men back and explained the error and showed him his predicament and then bought him out...."
"Ah, tell hit right," growled Landy. "Tell him like them scairt men told hit to me." Landy took up the recitation of how the home was acquired. "He made that greasy counterfeit eat his gun that he whipped out from under his left arm. He kicked him in the ribs, he did, after he'd knocked him down a coupla times. Made him go down thar and look at the old survey stakes, he did, then made him drive his crazy car over to Adot, and old Squire Landry made out the deed and he signed hit and Welborn here paid him in a sack of gold dust that they weighed on the grocery scales. That's how 'twas done. Tell hit right, so's Davy here will know the story."
Welborn laughed at Landy's recitals. "No, I didn't intimidate him. I made him see the matter in the right light. The proposition to sell-out came from him. I didn't want to buy him out, I had nothing to buy with, but the dust that it took me all summer to acquire. Truth is, this drink-crazed madman was a hoodlum gunman from Chicago or Saint Louis, that had lost his nerve. A killer who couldn't take the finish that was due him. He had run from it, and like an ostrich, he thought he was hidden up here. He didn't want me as a neighbor and when he found out that he had infringed on government land he was so scared that he would have given the place to me or anyone that wanted it. In fact, he didn't want to take the dust. He was afraid that the government would run him down for selling something that he didn't own, and maybe then find out about some of his killings back East. At any rate, he showed more speed in getting away from Adot than he had ever shown before, and that's saying a lot, for he surely burnt up the roads. We will unload your plunder right here on the porch, and we can place them as you want them later."
Davy got his personal grip out of the car, but that was about as far as he could go in the matter of unloading the baggage. While the men were engaged in the task, he looked the house over carefully. One with artistic temperament would have turned his back to the house and looked on the tremendous spectacle that offered itself to view in the south, in the east, and north. A vast brown meadow, rimmed with the dark greenery of the ancient conifers; and high above, a blue arch that draped down curtains of white to hide the sombre shades of cliffs and hills and peaks innumerable. It was a wonderful sight.
But Davy's eyes were on this house. He looked it over carefully. The general plan was as if a crib of logs had been built up to a square of, say, nine feet. Then another crib of logs built fifteen feet away. These were connected by a log structure in the center that allowed a recess in the porch at the front, and by a log extension enclosure that made a kitchen at the rear. It had been roofed with gray-green shingles and the porch ornamented by sturdy log columns, with rustic rails at the side. The logs had been closely fitted so that there was no space between that needed the chinking of the cabins of the pioneer.
The floor was in narrow, rift-sawed planks. The walls and ceilings were covered with wallboard, properly paneled and carefully and tastefully decorated. There was a big fireplace in the east room. The west room was heated by a stove that found vent in the kitchen chimney. Entrance to any room was from the porch. The general plan of the structure was the same as that of many cabins being built in public parks and dude ranches. Davy had not seen these. His comparisons were with the fine, substantial inn, built at Old Faithful. There was little furniture in the cabin.
"Well, what's your reaction, Laddie?" asked Welborn kindly as he marked the serious look on Davy's face.
"Well, I don't know whether to sit out there on the porch and have a good cry or go in the spare room and put up a small dance. For five years I have been dreaming about this place, and now it's a reality. Outside of dreaming about it, and in sober moments, I just knew that there couldn't be such a place, so I contented myself with plans for a little shack, maybe a teepee, or a tent where I could spread out and rest up. But here it is—just like the dream said."
"Wal, jist wait till a good winter blizzard comes through here like they do," interrupted Landy. "Jist wait, ye'll be sorry that ye ever had a dream. Why, it's six thousand feet up here, and the wind don't monkey and dally around, hit gits right down to business. Last winter hit most took the leg off 'en one of them burros old Maddy brought in here, 'en mighty nigh whipped the fillin' outen his shirt."