We made the turn. I never want to try it again. A few inches forward, till a yawning gulf lay under our front wheels; then back till we hit a steep bank, then forward, down grade to the edge; brakes, reverse, and the fear of a plunge forward between release of brakes and the catch of the reverse gear. We made half a dozen maneuvers before we again faced the misleading sign-post. We passed the mining camp, drove up the left fork, and bumped against a mountain which refused to be climbed.
“You see I was right,” said Toby smugly.
Before she had finished, a man with a refulgent smile came running up, thrust into our hands a visiting card which he took from his wallet, and shaking our hands enthusiastically said, “Glad to see ye, gurrls. Kelly’s my name. What’s yourn? I’m boss of the mine here. Come on out, and stay to supper. Stay all night. Stay a week,—the b’ys will be tickled t’ death. You can have my room,—I’ll bunk wid the foreman. I’m f’rm Providence, Rhode Island. Been in the Legislat’ur twenty years. Been a horse jockey, an’ an inventor, an’ foreman of a factory. Makin’ my everlastin’ fortune in this mine just now, and no stock to sell. Where ’ye from?”
“Boston, now! Well, say, ye’re a long ways fr’m home. Ye’ll have to stay, neighbors like that. We got a big fat cook, two hundred and fifty she weighs, and a crackerjack with the eats, and she says tell ye she’ll never speak to you agin if ye don’t stay to supper.”
I looked wistfully at Toby. We had been warned we might not get through to Pine, because of snow drifts in the passes, and it was only an hour to dark, over twisting and unknown hill roads, but our recent trapeze work had left us with an all-gone feeling at the belt. If we did not eat now we might go hungry till morning. We decided not to renounce the friendship of the two hundred and fifty pound crackerjack.
Kelly was one of Nature’s enthusiasts, but he had understated concerning his cook, both in weight and proficiency. All of her three hundred odd pounds billowing and undulating in the bounds of a starched white apron waddled a testimonial to her skill. When Kelly delicately left us under her chaperonage she overflowed with joy.
“Girls, you don’t know what a treat it is to see women-folks. I been here all winter, the only woman in camp, and I could die with homesickness.”
We said something appreciative of the beauty of the scenery. She sniffed.
“This? Say, girls, you ought to see God’s country!”
“California?” we said intelligently.