“Ay vant to be yoyous, ven Ay get to Scorpion Bend, Henry. Ay am going to have a vord vit Mr. Pelly.”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Pelly is at the Circle G ranch, Oscar.”
“Ya-a-a-ah! Das son-of-a-gon! Vaal, Ay am so downhorted that Ay must have drink.”
“Oh, go ahead,” said Henry. “You’d do it sooner or later.”
They were able to travel the Lobo Grades in daylight, on their way to Scorpion Bend, a picturesque but dangerous road, which wound around the cliffs above Loco Canyon, only wide enough for one vehicle, except at rare intervals, where there was barely room for two wheeled vehicles to pass each other. Jack-knife turns, where the road ahead was blocked from view, until completely around the turn, increased the hazard, even in daylight. Sheer cliffs blocked the inside, but there was no guardrail on the other side.
It was after dark, when they arrived at Scorpion Bend. Frijole, Slim and Oscar were rather mellow, but Henry did not take a drink. He declared, “I am going to make this trip in safety, if it is the last thing I ever do.”
“Tha’s a good idea,” agreed Slim. “I admire any man who is wishful to get back alive.”
They ate supper, and Henry tried to get the boys to go up to the depot, but they didn’t want to go back too early.
“Man, when we go back,” said Frijole, “we don’t want nothin’ else on the grade.”
So Henry waited. There was a dance in Scorpion Bend, and it was after ten o’clock when Henry managed to gather his brood and go to the depot after the new buckboard. A peevish depot agent accepted the money from Henry, and unlocked the storeroom. The whole buckboard was crated, wheels separate, and Henry’s helpers were in no condition to do mechanical labor.