“Why is he called Foolish Andy, Virg? I’ve often wondered,” Megsy inquired.
“It’s because he is an inventor. He is very well educated, and seems always to be inventing something which he is sure will bring his little family fame and fortune. Mrs. Wallace tells me that they were comfortably well off, once upon a time, but that all they could save had been squandered on one invention after another and they became poorer and poorer until now they can hardly keep alive, but nothing seems to quench Mr. Wallace’s faith in his inventive powers. I heard brother say that the instrument he is now trying to perfect, he believes will not only bring him the money he needs but be a great boon to mankind, or at least to that portion of it that chooses the desert places for a home.”
“What is the instrument, Virg?” Megsy inquired.
“It’s some very sensitive mechanism that is supposed to locate water and that is why Mr. Wallace choose the driest section of the desert in this neighborhood. He particularly likes Hog Canon, and his theory is that since it was, once upon a time, overrun with small hogs, there must then have been water. He believes, that the stream took to flowing underground as they so often do in Arizona and that his instrument will locate it. Then this land, which he has taken up, homesteaded I mean, will be invaluable. Brother says he is right about that, but the other ranchers have no faith whatever in his invention. At least it hasn’t succeeded. Mr. Slater is a very wealthy, progressive man and when the Wallaces first moved here, he took an interest in the instrument. When he was about to have a well dug for his new windmill, he sent for Mr. Wallace to help him locate a spot where he would be sure to find water. Fate was against the inventor, for the very spot where an excellent well has been dug, the instrument reported no water. That is why the poor man, who still clings to his faith in the invention is called ‘Foolish Andy’.”
“He ought to be put in an insane asylum,” was Betsy’s indignant verdict. “The very idea of his being permitted to bring such misfortune on the heads of his innocent wife and children. Why doesn’t she leave him?”
“For the simple or rather wonderful reason that she loves him and has faith in him,” Virginia replied, “but, unfortunately, if he ever does succeed, I fear it will be too late for his wife to share in whatever prosperity will follow. If they don’t find water very soon now, the little woman will have slipped away. Slim tells me that she seems to be holding to life by a thread. That will mean three more children left motherless in the world.”
Betsy flared. “I just hate that selfish man! I’m sorry we came! I know I won’t be able to speak civilly to him.” But Virg remarked, “You’ll be surprised to find how different he is from the man you have pictured. Now, here’s where we turn to enter the canon. Why, what is the matter with Old Stoic?” The girls whirled in their saddles to look at the pack horse. To their amazement they saw that it had stopped and was staring at the dark entrance of the canon ahead with a look of fear, ears thrown back and every muscle quivering.
“Oh, it must be a bear,” Betsy cried, when, with a shrill frightened whistle, Old Stoic turned tail toward the mountains, and, burdened though he was, raced across the trackless sand, but not toward home.
CHAPTER IX
WAS IT A BEAR
“Do you think old Stoic saw a bear?” Margaret asked as the girls, puzzled indeed, by the faithful creature’s strange and unexpected behavior sat in their saddles, two of them gazing anxiously into the dark entrance of the canon, while the third, Virg, watched the flight of their pack animal.