Read David Lannarck, Midget Page 5


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  The Gillis menage was well managed. Mrs. Gillis saw to that. Jim, agedfifty, slim of build, sinewy, even-tempered, quiet, willing, was thefarmer and handyman. Crops grew, orchards bloomed, vines bore a fullvintage, and bushes yielded because he made them do so. Withoutsplutter or fuss, he did his work, and liked to do it.

  The teamwork of Mrs. Gillis was equally effective. One could not sayhowever that her work was done as quietly. Landy, the cow hand brotherwas wont to say--not in her presence however--that "as a child, Alicewas sorta tongue-tied, and she has to ketch up somehow."

  And Landy--well, Landy made his contributions. As a young cowboy,Landy had had his fling. He came into the game as the cattle-sheepwars were at their peak and he played it strenuously. But with it all,Landy Spencer kept his moral slate fairly clean. Then as the soberdays of manhood came, and Landy witnessed the finish of theimprovident and foolish, he began to save and skimp. "Hit's the porehouse fer a cow hand," was his terse aphorism on the subject, andLandy had never seen a "fitten" poor house.

  Landy was working for the Crazy-Q outfit, at the time the governmentproposed to open the Silver Falls Project. He looked it over and filedon two of the homesteads. One for himself and one for James Gillis.Then he went to Illinois where his younger sister and her husband wereshare-cropping.

  "Come out whar yu've got room, whar ye own it, whar you do it yourway. I'll pay freight on yer car to Laramie, and keep up the suppliesfor three years. Then if you're not satisfied, I'll move ye back."

  It was Landy too, that planned as to the cows and calves. He boughtpurebred cows from the B-line folks, and sold them the big, weanedcalves. And in view of the fact that the calf sale in 1931 was largerthan Alice's big turkey sale to the dealers in Laramie by fully twohundred dollars, Landy had a modicum of peace on finances. The Gillismenage was well managed. It made money in a depression.

  Davy was awakened by what he thought was gunfire. He bounded out ofbed and ran to the window. Day was breaking. In the dawnlight he sawWelborn and Landy tinkering with the old model that had brought themso valiantly through the mountains. She was backfiring her protestsbut presently settled down to her accustomed smoothness. Davy hustledinto his clothes. Mrs. Gillis knocked on the door. "There is a pan andwater right here on the bench," she said. "I told them fellers not tomonkey with the old car, but Mr. Welborn is anxious to git started, hethought he'd tune her up before breakfast."

  Gillis came from the barn with a brimming bucket of milk. "Howja rest,Davy?" he asked.

  "Fine! I hit the feathers and never moved until I heard thisbombardment that I thought was an uprising of the Utes."

  "Breakfast is ready," called Mrs. Gillis. "How do you want your eggs,Davy?"

  "I want them the way you fix 'em," the little man replied promptly."After that supper last night, I wouldn't have the nerve to tell youanything about cooking."

  Mrs. Gillis beamed her appreciation. "I hope you will tell that to Jimand Landy. To hear them complain, you would think I was serving theirgrub raw or burnt. Didn't the circus people feed ye?"

  "A circus always hires good cooks. It buys the best meats in the localmarkets, and that's about as far as they can go. The vegetables areout of cans, except the potatoes and cabbage, and the fruits areeither dried or canned. Preserves and jellies are factory made, so itgets pretty monotonous. I had a good breakfast on the diner yesterdaymorning. We had a fine lunch out this side of Cheyenne, but the supperlast night was far beyond anything I have ever enjoyed. I jotted downsome of the menu and as soon as I unpack I am going to write to acouple of those old circus razorbacks and tell 'em what they havemissed." Davy was talking and eating; the men were eating.

  "Now, Laddie, we are ready for the final dash," said Welborn, as herose from the table. "The farther we go, the tougher it gets. And weare on the last leg."

  "Landy and I had better go along," said Gillis. "Ye might get stuck,and we will be needed to help unload."

  "You men come back here for dinner," called Mrs. Gillis from thedoorway. "You will be too busy to stop and cook."

  The old machine described a big curve in getting out of the enclosure,but was again headed west. Gillis rode in the front seat with Welborn.Landy and Davy found room on the trailer. "I want to see everything,"said Davy as he climbed to a perilous perch on one of the trunks.

  The mountains towered in the west, south, and southwest. The terrainwas fairly level, but a spirit level would have shown a marked tilt tothe east. There was a fringe of timberland on every side. Landypointed out places of interest. "That's Ripple Creek off to the left.Ye crossed hit last night on the bridge, and we meet hit agin right upby the house. That's Brushy Fork over at the right. They 'most cometogether up here. Right up that canyon about two mile is whar Welbornfound the b'ar cubs. Way 'round that timber-covered nose to the rightis the B-line Ranch--hit's about ten miles. Right down that draw, inthe timber and brush, I killed two wolves last year. And if yer on ahoss, ye can foller a trail down to brushy fork and out on yon side.That's a short cut to the B-line, else ye'd have to go cl'ar back tothe fillin' station, then over to Adot and back across another bridgeto git thar. It's twenty-five miles thataway. When ye git all settled,we'll sneak over to the B-line and take a squint at that little hoss."

  Landy continued to point out the places of interest. "Right alongabout here is Welborn's line. He's got two homesteads--bought 'em offa crazy bird that had bought out both homesteaders. That's one of theshacks over there and the other one he uses for a cowshed. En thar'syer home a-settin' up on that bench of land."

  Davy craned his neck as the trailer moved down hill. Perched up on ashelf, he saw a yellow dot against a gray wall that ran to the sky. Asthey neared the place he outlined a tiny cabin. Later it proved to bea two-roomed affair with a porch and lean to at the rear. This was tobe his domicile--for how long, time would tell.

  The car described a big curve that took them to the brink of theRipple Creek Canyon. In second gear it labored and twisted off to theright, and then left again, and came to a stop right at the frontporch of the yellow-brown log cabin.

  Davy climbed down from his perch. He walked around the cabin,surveying it from three sides. "She's an Old Faithful," he announcedat last. "Modeled, matched, and built by the man that built OldFaithful Inn. Why did he do it and when?"

  "It was built the summer before last and it took all summer,"explained Welborn. "The crazy galoot called himself the Count of Como.He came barging in here and bought out Clark and Stanley, thehomesteaders, and brought in two men who had been building fancycabins in Rocky Mountain Park and tourist camps. He left them here onthe job while he drove the roads like a madman, in a big, black,powerful coupe to Laramie, to Cheyenne, to Denver, anywhere he couldget whiskey and dope. He would come back, rave around, threateneverybody with a gun, but paid out money like he had the mint back ofhim, and finally got it done. You notice that the logs are "treated,"stained or shellacked, to retain their first color. The mechanics didthat, and the count was mightily pleased until he found out that itmade the shack stand out so that it could be seen for a long distance,and then he threw a fit. He went wild, ran 'em off the job, then Icame into the picture.

  "I was prospecting down Ripple Creek Canyon and living in that shackthat you can see from the rim over there. I was trying to locate aclaim, mining claim. But from the homestead lines, this cabin was offthe reservation, built off the edge of Stanley's claim and on thegovernment'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 andexplained the error and showed him his predicament and then bought himout...."

  "Ah, tell hit right," growled Landy. "Tell him like them scairt mentold hit to me." Landy took up the recitation of how the home wasacquired. "He made that greasy counterfeit eat his gun that he whippedout from under his left arm. He kicked him in the ribs, he did, afterhe'd knocked him down a coupla times. Made him go down thar and lookat the old survey stakes, he did, then made him driv
e his crazy carover to Adot, and old Squire Landry made out the deed and he signedhit and Welborn here paid him in a sack of gold dust that they weighedon the grocery scales. That's how 'twas done. Tell hit right, so'sDavy here will know the story."

  Welborn laughed at Landy's recitals. "No, I didn't intimidate him. Imade him see the matter in the right light. The proposition tosell-out came from him. I didn't want to buy him out, I had nothing tobuy with, but the dust that it took me all summer to acquire. Truthis, this drink-crazed madman was a hoodlum gunman from Chicago orSaint Louis, that had lost his nerve. A killer who couldn't take thefinish that was due him. He had run from it, and like an ostrich, hethought he was hidden up here. He didn't want me as a neighbor andwhen he found out that he had infringed on government land he was soscared that he would have given the place to me or anyone that wantedit. In fact, he didn't want to take the dust. He was afraid that thegovernment would run him down for selling something that he didn'town, and maybe then find out about some of his killings back East. Atany rate, he showed more speed in getting away from Adot than he hadever shown before, and that's saying a lot, for he surely burnt up theroads. We will unload your plunder right here on the porch, and we canplace them as you want them later."

  Davy got his personal grip out of the car, but that was about as faras he could go in the matter of unloading the baggage. While the menwere engaged in the task, he looked the house over carefully. One withartistic temperament would have turned his back to the house andlooked on the tremendous spectacle that offered itself to view in thesouth, in the east, and north. A vast brown meadow, rimmed with thedark greenery of the ancient conifers; and high above, a blue archthat draped down curtains of white to hide the sombre shades of cliffsand hills and peaks innumerable. It was a wonderful sight.

  But Davy's eyes were on this house. He looked it over carefully. Thegeneral plan was as if a crib of logs had been built up to a squareof, say, nine feet. Then another crib of logs built fifteen feet away.These were connected by a log structure in the center that allowed arecess in the porch at the front, and by a log extension enclosurethat made a kitchen at the rear. It had been roofed with gray-greenshingles and the porch ornamented by sturdy log columns, with rusticrails at the side. The logs had been closely fitted so that there wasno space between that needed the chinking of the cabins of thepioneer.

  The floor was in narrow, rift-sawed planks. The walls and ceilingswere covered with wallboard, properly paneled and carefully andtastefully decorated. There was a big fireplace in the east room. Thewest room was heated by a stove that found vent in the kitchenchimney. Entrance to any room was from the porch. The general plan ofthe structure was the same as that of many cabins being built inpublic parks and dude ranches. Davy had not seen these. Hiscomparisons were with the fine, substantial inn, built at OldFaithful. There was little furniture in the cabin.

  "Well, what's your reaction, Laddie?" asked Welborn kindly as hemarked the serious look on Davy's face.

  "Well, I don't know whether to sit out there on the porch and have agood cry or go in the spare room and put up a small dance. For fiveyears 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 thatthere couldn't be such a place, so I contented myself with plans for alittle shack, maybe a teepee, or a tent where I could spread out andrest up. But here it is--just like the dream said."

  "Wal, jist wait till a good winter blizzard comes through here likethey do," interrupted Landy. "Jist wait, ye'll be sorry that ye everhad a dream. Why, it's six thousand feet up here, and the wind don'tmonkey and dally around, hit gits right down to business. Last winterhit most took the leg off 'en one of them burros old Maddy brought inhere, 'en mighty nigh whipped the fillin' outen his shirt."

  "Let her blow," retorted Davy. "I've been in two circus blow-downs,and we had to stake the elephants down to keep 'em from blowing overinto Texas."

  Landy was a good loser. He grinned, and began wrestling the trunks.All of Davy's plunder was moved into the fireplace room.

  "We will live in here this winter, and when spring comes, we canexpand into the other room or out on the porch," explained Welborn."And now, before you begin to unpack, I want you to see what Jim and Ihave been doing this last week. Let's take a look at the pump andengine before a snow comes and covers it all." Welborn led the waydown near the brink of the canyon. "Over on the other side of thecreek, you can see a shack. I headquartered there for several monthsand panned out some dust. From there I could see this opening herethat looked like it had a floor, and maybe some prospects. Well, Iclimbed those trees down by the creek, but could not quite see what Iwanted. As the madman was working over here, I climbed and slipped,and cut steps in the rock face of the cliff, on yon side. I wormed andtwisted around until I got up to that coulee, and sure enough, it waswhat I thought. The floor of the old stream bed that had been thrownout of line and out of use, by some secondary action inmountain-making.

  "Ripple Creek has been noted for its placer workings. It has beenpanned and panned, many times, and always yields something. But herewas a part of the stream bed that was virgin, that had never seen aminer or a pan. I walked over it and tested it. It stood the test.When it was the bed of the stream, gold was being ground out, washedout and carried down stream from the quartz-gold veins above. There itwas! I couldn't get to it--couldn't work it without an entrance fromthis side of the creek. Landy has told you how I acquired theentrance, and a farm and a house with it." Still talking, Welborn ledhis guest back in the ravine back of the house, then through a tunnelin the razor-edge cliff, the party walked out on the floor of the oldstream bed. "Jim and I made that tunnel. We dragged those logs throughit, to make a foundation for the engine and pump. Now all we have todo, is blast out a sort of well-hole down at the creek so that theintake will be on the claim, and we are all set for production. We cando this today. Tomorrow, we will have water back on this old streambed. Jim and I will take a hand drill, dynamite, fuse and caps intothe gorge, and bust out a space about as big as a washtub, while youand Landy are unpacking your plunder. Build a fire, Landy, to take thechill off."

  Unpacking suited Davy. While Landy brought in some pine knots andlighted a fire against the charred backlog, Davy wrestled thedufflebag open and began to take out the contents. It was ahodge-podge of parts of every old costume he had ever used. The trunksand suitcases yielded good property. "There," he pointed to a separatepile, "there is my notion of where I was going, without seeing theplace. That's a sleeping bag and these are a pair of Hudson Bayblankets. You see, I didn't know if I was to sleep out of doors orsleep in a barn--surely, I didn't plan that it was a place like this!Here's my mackinaw, boots, and mittens, and here's my hardware." Heproduced a small rifle that had been packed between the blankets andhanded it to Landy for his inspection. "She's a thirty caliber,carries two hundred yards at point blank and won't kick over a littlefellow like me.

  "And this is what I want you to see in particular." Davy fumbled inthe keyster and brought out a small saddle with a fair leather bridle,to match. It was not a pad saddle such as jockey's ride, nor yet acivilian outfit without horn and only one web. It was a genuinewestern, with high horn and high cantle and two cinches, but muchreduced in every dimension. "Will that fit the pony you saw over atthe B-line?"

  Landy looked the saddle over carefully. "Hit's made by a saddle-makerall right, and will fit that hoss to a tee. They used to have somefancy saddles back in the early days. I've seen 'em that cost athousand--Chauchaua--made and covered with silver do dads, en maybethey'd have 'em flung on a hoss that wasn't wuth his feed. I mind thetime when ole Lem Hawks made a right smart lot of change, a-sellin'ole saddles that he swore come out'n the Custer massacre. Lem finallygot to believin' that he was a survivor of that carnage.

  "They finally caught up with Lem however. He had sold more saddlesthan Custer had men, and the old cow saddles with their big horns andhigh cantles didn't look like an army saddle nohow. But Lem kept righton a-
bein' a survivor--him en about a thousand others. Hit's likeLincoln's bodyguards--thar's been more of them folks died than Granthad in his whole army. Yer saddle is all right, son, and we shore ortto talk the B-line folks outa that little hoss."

  "I want to take the saddle over when we go," said Davyenthusiastically. "They could see how it fit, and that might influencetheir decision. I could put it on one of the burros and ride it over."

  Landy laughed uproarously. "Why son, ye wouldn't git thar by Febwary.A burro ain't geared to ride en go places. He will foller ye right upthe side of a glacier, but he ain't mentally constructed to take thelead. Why, if ye was on one of 'em, backward, en paddlin' him with aclapboard, he'd back right up agin hit."

  "Well, what do they keep them for? Who do they belong to, anyhow?"

  "Them two a-roamin' around here, belong to ole Maddy, the ole minergent. He left 'em here while he went romancin' around up Ripple Creek.He goes up thar, and has got a way out to the top. He goes in NorthPark, cl'ar over to Granby and Grand Lake. He swings 'round bySteamboat Springs and Hahns Peak, and comes a-driftin' back, mebbefrom the north. He left 'em here three months ago. He'll git 'em whenhe gits 'em, en he won't lose much if he don't.

  "Ole Maddy has been in the hills--so hit's told--since the days of JimBeck with and Bridger. Some say he was in Virginia Vale when Sladerubbed out Jules, the Frenchman. They say too, that he knew Carson,but that ain't so! Yit I do know that he pardnered with Will Drannon,the boy that ole Kit raised, because I heard Maddy tell a lot aboutDrannon, and later I read Drannon's book en right in the book, was oleMaddy. Oh, he's an oldster all right. He jist projects around in thehills, pans a little gold en rambles around by himse'f. He's not 'goldmad,' he jist likes to roam. He's clean, don't talk much, en anybodywill keep him until he gits ready to pull out."

  "Well, I am sure disappointed about that burro thing," said Davyregretfully. "I wanted to ride that saddle over there and maybe theycould see that the saddle, the hoss, and the midget ought not beseparated."

  "Don't worry. We'll lengthen the girths, en I'll put ye on ole Frosty.When they see ye, way up thar', they'll know by every law ofmathematics en justice, that the boy and the saddle belong on thecolt."

  A roar reverberated out of the canyon. "Well, that's that," saidLandy, "en now the next big job is to git Welborn out of the couleefer dinner. If you leave him alone, he'd stay right thar messin'around till dark. I git provoked at his ways, but after I heard themdecorators tell how he beat the gunman to the draw and busted him onthe jaw en kicked him till he squawked like an ole hen, then I grewmore tolerant. Welborn's all right, but he works too hard."

  Presently Welborn and Jim came up from the coulee. The auto wasstarted and headed for the Gillis place. The original Gillis cabin hadbeen augmented by the addition of two rooms on the south, a porch onthe west, and another and better cabin on the north. It was sufficientfor the family needs. The farm was fenced for the most part, and theneighboring range was alloted by the grazing master to Gillis, Landy,and their co-homesteaders at the far limits of the tract. Except for asmall forty-acre tract, the Gillis land was dry farmed. The forty wasirrigated from a spring developed on the premises. It was in alfalfa.Other meadows raised timothy mixed with alsike. Even in unfavorableyears, the ranch yielded more than a hundred and fifty tons of hay.Besides hay, a lot of oats and barley was produced.

  "But thar's Jim's patent," Landy was showing Davy over the premises."Jim keeps everything offen that big medder, en the grass comes on,en cures itse'f. Then hit snows, and the grass lays down like acarpet. Then hit blows the snow off en around, en stock can graze tharuntil near Christmas. Hit's a great savin' on hay. En a great savingon the hay feeder," Landy added with a grin.

  Besides three score cows with their calves, a dozen horses and colts,turkeys, chickens, ducks, and geese galore, the Gillis ranch had threedogs, two collies, and a short-tailed sheep dog. The dogs followedDavy around like they had found a friend.

  "They think I am a kid," Davy said. "Dogs sure like children."

  After another sumptuous meal, Welborn went out to tinker with theFord. Mrs. Gillis called Davy to the kitchen. "I want you to speak toWelborn," she said. "He works too hard. From daylight to dark, he doestwo men's work at that old mine. He'll kill himself before he gets themoney out of it. You can talk to him--he likes you. Why, he sat up allnight, the night before he went to Cheyenne after you, pressing hispants, making your chair, tying his tie, tinkering on the Ford. Hecautioned all of us not to talk about your being smaller than common,being a midget. He said you were coming out here to get away from "themob," the people who stared and commented. He wanted everything hereto be different. He likes you, would do anything for you, but he's gotsomething pushing him, driving him, faster and harder than one man canstand. He'll break if he don't stop and take things easier. If you geta chance, talk to him, tame him down, make him rest, change his mindto something different. He's a fine man, big and rugged and agentleman. He never hints at what's eating his life out, and we don'tknow. But it ought to stop."

  "I think you are right, Mrs. Gillis. Sam does work too hard and toolong. I know nothing about his past, and I'll never ask him until hegets ready to tell it all. This I know, he's well educated, hastrained in big business and is used to good society. I think he israther hot-headed and maybe stubborn, if he thinks he's right. It willbe a delicate thing to do, to try to switch him off from what he'sdoing and the way he's doing it, but I'll try, because I think itought to be done."

  Landy did not go in the return trip to "Pinnacle P'int" as he termedthe mine and its environments. He had some "cipherin' around" to do."With that pump a-goin' and the water a-flowin', hit don't resemble aplace of rest to me," he said.

  Mrs. Gillis brought a loaf of bread out to the car. "There's enoughfor your supper and breakfast, and you folks come back here for dinnertomorrow."

  "En say, Jim, you bring the kid's little saddle back with yer," calledLandy. "I want to lengthen the cinches to fit old Frosty. Me en thekid are aimin' to do a lot of romancin' eround--mebbe tomorry."

  Arriving at the cabin, Welborn took a can of gasoline through theopening out to the pump. He tinkered with the engine and presently asteady "chug-chug-chug" reverberated down the valley. Mechanicalmining was on at the Silver Falls Project.

  Welborn laid the hose at a favorable place on a gravel-bar and scoopedup a pan of dirt and sand that he held under the stream while hewhirled it around in the pan. The contents took up the motion andspilled over the pan-brim until there was little left. The minerexamined the remainder and then gave it more water and more swirlingaround in the pan. This process he repeated several times. Presentlyhe held the pan where Davy and Jim could see a fifth of a thimble fullof tiny flakes and two small dots not much larger than pinheads."That's the object of the meeting, gentlemen," Welborn said grimly."That's gold.... Tomorrow," he added, "we will get the old rockergoing, but just now, I want to 'sample around' for good locations."

  All this was nothing to Davy. He watched the men awhile and went backto the cabin to arrange his personal belongings. Pinnacle Point was aplace of sudden sunsets and prolonged twilights. At near five o'clock,Davy built a fire in the little cook-stove and put several slices ofbacon on to fry. He "set the table" as best he could and broke severaleggs in the bacon grease. He set out a jar of jam, sliced the bread.Then he went to the tunnel and called: "Supper."

  "Say, Laddie, I don't want you to do this," said Welborn as hesurveyed the supper. "You are my guest, you know, and I'll do whatcooking there's to be done. We'll eat our dinners at Gillis', we'llsleep here, and I will get breakfast and supper. The fine dinners willoffset my poor cooking, and besides you ought to stay outdoors andlook around as much as you can, before we get snowed in for the wholewinter."

  "Well, I do plan to go with Landy over to see about that colt," saidDavy, "and I thought maybe you would want to go along."

  Welborn laughed. "Not for me! If you and Landy can't skin those B-linepeople out of one little horse, you ar
e no traders. I've got to getthat rocker going tomorrow. Look what we did today!" Welborn showed alittle canvas bag that he took out of his pocket. "There is fully anounce of dust in there, and we didn't try, just sampled around. Withthe rocker going, I can take out ten ounces a day by myself. It'sfairly well distributed all over the tract, but better if you can hitthe potholes right in the old stream bed."

  "And when you get it all out, then what?"

  Welborn looked rather perplexed. He studied a moment. "Then what?" heasked slowly, "Why we'll stock that ranch, lay out a flying field, andvisit a lot of places. Truly, I had never planned so far ahead as toget to the place where I wouldn't be doing anything excepting clippingcoupons."

  "Yes, the mine is a fine thing," Davy said earnestly. "Why, there isenough gold there to make a great fortune. But what's the use intaking it all out at once? It will keep. You can work awhile, restawhile, play awhile, and still be just as rich as if you had workedyourself to death. You are young, strong, and healthy, just right toenjoy life. Why work so hard now?"

  "Yes, I am healthy, feel pretty strong, but not so young. Right now, Iwould like to take a few thousand dollars out of that gulch beforesnow flies, for we are going to have a lot of enforced loafing. We arein good shape to loaf however, all bills are paid and I still havethirty-five dollars of your money!"

  "That's fine. I have been wondering how I would pay for the colt, inthe event we bought him. The B-line folks might not want to take mycheck, and it might take more cash than I have on me."

  "Mrs. Gillis will take care of that, she has money, plenty of it. Shewill tell Landy what to do, and Landy's word is like a bond. They do alot of trading with the B-line. Buy cows, sell calves, and trade paperback and forth. Mrs. Gillis is better than a bank. Since the bankingsituation went bad, she has been accumulating government bonds. Shehardly ever comes back from town without at least a hundred-dollarbond. She's a wonder, that woman. She's not an isolated hill billythat goes to town on Saturdays and anchors herself in the doorway ofthe five-and-ten-cent store to visit and gawk around. She's full ofbusiness. Sells her stuff, buys what she needs, and hits the trail forhome. I expect Mrs. Gillis has seven or eight thousand dollars inbonds and cash stowed around in their cabin."

  "Now that's my notion of living," cried Davy as he edged his chairback from the cracking sticks that Welborn had added to thesmouldering embers in the fireplace. "Own a fine little ranch, adecent run of livestock and poultry, raise plenty of feed, and havesomething to sell right along. They don't have to meet a dailyschedule, don't have to spread canvas in the rain or look at a mobtittering yokels all the time. That's the life for me and the Gillisoutfit is my pattern."

  "They are fine people," said Welborn. "We will keep in close contactwith them. We need them now. The time may come when they will needus."