Adine Lough had high rating in the community affairs of Adot. Her zeal for higher education, her church work, and her general deportment gave her contact with the better element that was trying to modernize trying to lift a community up and out of the rawness of frontier days. But if the critics, the estimators of social standing, had seen her and her associates on this fine October afternoon, they would have moved her down several rungs on the social ladder.

She was in close conference with a midget, an ex-circus man, out of work and advertised widely to give a talk at the warehouse Saturday night! (They would hear this talk before making a final estimate.) And Adine’s other conferee was old Landy Spencer, a notorious resister of progress, who spoke in the language of other days, whose appearance from battered hat to narrow bootheels simply pictured the undesirable past; his associates, when he came to town, were of the rabble the lower stratum. Very true, in other days, the bank had given him a rating as not needing endorsers if he sought a loan. Very true, Judge Sample had stated publicly that he would accept Landy Spencer’s word without the formalities of being sworn, but as a social factor in the community, Landy didn’t know where the social ladder was located, let alone about reaching the lower rung. And all afternoon Adine Lough was in close conference with such as these!

Landy returned to Jode’s place sooner than he was expected. There was a sheepish grin on his weathered face. “They beat me to hit,” he said in a low voice as Jode went back to the stove for his steak and potatoes. (His companions were munching wafers and drinking chocolate milk.) “Ike had already been en done hit.”

Being served, and with Jode in the kitchen, the aged courier disclosed the results of his mission. “Ye don’t tell Ike what’s on yer mind; jist give him rope, git him started, en he’ll come from under cover. I went to his shop en he wasn’t workin’. Seemed to be waitin’. I prodded in, en he unfolded that he was waitin’ for Logan. Our Logan, ye understand. Hit whetted my int’rest; I prodded ag’in, en with results. Ike said that Logan came to his shop Tuesday. He’d seen Ugly Collins a-hangin’ ’round Ike’s place, en he wanted a quick move by Ugly. He slipped Ike two new twenty-dollar bills en told him to loan ’em to Ugly if he made a quick git-away. Ike did as d’rected. Ugly come en got the wagon this atternoon. Promised that he’d load tonight en be on the road by midnight.

“Well! That settled the coffee! I didn’t keer to hang eround eny more. But I did want a whit more information. Did Logan know that old Hulls en Maizie were included? ‘Naw,’ scorned Ike, ’Logan didn’t even know that Ugly knew ’em didn’t know that Ugly had ever been at the Bar-O. Logan didn’t know about the wagon. Thought the forty was about right for train fare. He jist wanted Ugly out of the country en I got hit done,’ says Ike.

“I didn’t keer to meet Logan then. I remembered that I had some boots at Billy’s fer half solin’, en I slipped Ike a five spot with the caution that he was to say nothin’ in his report to Logan about who was in Ugly’s party. Ike wanted me to stay en listen to his ideas as to why Logan wanted a quick move by Ugly, but I already had my notions about that. I slipped away fast. But in comin’ here I remembered that I hadn’t left eny boots with Billy.”

Landy finished his steak and story about the same time.

“Well, do you think they will get away tonight?” asked Davy eagerly. “Is there any way that we can hang around and find out? Why would Logan want this Ugly party to get out of the country? Why can’t we

“Thar ye go! Crowdin’ the question-chute. Son, ye orta number ’em, en I could answer by number. Anyhow, let’s git goin’! Hit’s a long ways home with a change of cars at the B-line, en the last lap ain’t fit fer night ridin’. We can talk while we ride. Out thar, Jode won’t be hangin’ around, shufflin’ the dishes en tryin’ to get an earful. Let’s go.”

On the way home, Adine Lough was the happy one of the trio. The revealing incidents of the day had cleared away the threatening dark financial cloud. Now if her father could only be brought home with the assurance of his getting well, her cup of happiness would be overflowing. Just now, she was planning an added chapter to her thesis, “Welfare Work in Rural Communities.” She would touch on the subject of “Aid from Unexpected Sources,” for she had experienced just that! In the events of the day, it was revealed that a little, unknown midget of a man, with a doubtful background, was indeed a man, mentally, morally, and financially. Back of his cynicism often expressed in the jargon of the underworld was an alert mind that could lead an inquisitor into a maze of unaccomplishments.

Too, in said thesis, she would make some radical changes in the paragraphs touching on “influences of pioneer habits and traits in community upbuilding, etc.” The recent conduct and tactful accomplishments of Landy Spencer were the reasons for such a change. Heretofore, she had welcomed old Landy as a visitor to the B-line for the reason that Grandaddy liked him, wanted to confab and badger about the old days. She had casually learned that Landy had had to work as a boy, as a youth, and as a young man, that he had accumulated enough so that he could now enjoy the play-days once denied him. Yes, she would change her notes to say: “uncouth verbiage and slatternly dress are often assets in gaining information and are no hindrance in granting loyalty and devotion.”

The journey home, despite the uncertainties pending, was a joy-ride for the two. Landy, as was his wont, clutched the armrest of the car and said nothing. Time was, when safe in a saddle, he had thrown reins to the wind “en allowed that critter a spell of fancy worm-fence buckin’, but a-ridin’ a auto wuz dangerous business.”

Arriving at the B-line stables, the party paused for a final conference. Tomorrow would be Friday. In the early hours Davy and Landy would make a furtive visit to the Bar-O ranch to see if Ugly Collins had carried out his plans to evacuate the resisters. “Maybe they set fire to the house or poisoned the cattle,” suggested Davy. Landy poo-pooed the idea.

“They’re on a slow train,” he explained. “In that outfit they can’t do over six miles an hour. A fire would announce their malice, en a sheriff would overtake ’em before they reached North Gate. They don’t know about cattle-pizen thar’s no loco weed around here.”

Saturday was the date of the entertainment in Adot. Davy and Landy would ride over to the B-line and go to town in Adine’s roadster. In Adot, Davy would again contact Logan and fix the date to meet him in Cheyenne on Monday. “That check the draft thing will be there by that time,” was Davy’s opinion. “I hope I can pry Welborn loose from his digging and delving long enough to take me over that road again.”

“You don’t have to do that,” interposed Adine. “I’ll drive you to Cheyenne. I’m as anxious as anyone to get this thing settled. This Bar-O thing has been a neighborhood problem, an obsession, a thorn in the flesh, ever since Grandaddy was a young man. I want to be a party in removing the thorn. I’ll have Joe and Myrah to look after Grandaddy, and I’ll have Mister Potter to look after Joe and Myrah and everything will be all right.

“But you’ll have to meet me at Carter’s filling station,” she cautioned. “I’ll have to drive through Adot and around that way. I can’t drive across the valleys and ridges as you horsemen ride them. So we’ll meet at the filling station at seven-thirty. We will be in Cheyenne long before noon.”

“Hi ya, Potter,” called Landy as they were saddling the horses. “I want you to order a set of shoes for this colt.”

“I’ve got a set. I tried ’em; they fit. But he won’t need shoes this winter; he’s better off without ’em. If a bunglin’ mechanic over thar will leave his feet alone he’ll be all right till spring.”

Landy regarded the gibe as irrelevant. The saddle invited. Once aboard and before they reached the Ranty he was detailing answers to some of Davy’s questions.

“This Logan party ain’t exactly crooked but thar’s some noticeable bends in his career. When they baptized him they ought to have given him another dip. ‘Course, he gits his money by pinchin’ en scrougin’ en this Ugly Collins affair goes a leetle beyond the limit.

“This Ugly was borned here. His right name is Clarence, but early someone branded him Ugly, en because he resented hit, the name stuck. He wasn’t so ugly jist ornery. His daddy died; his mother lived on a little place in town, up-crick from the bridge. Ugly wasn’t a roarin’ success as a producer jist idled and fuddled until he got to be a man. Then he got indicted with others fer robbin’ a little tannery that was operatin’ down the crick. This tannery was mostly out of doors. They was charged with stealin’ leather, but in the testimony it showed that Ugly didn’t steal leather jist knives en other plunder. He was flung loose. He left the country. That was twelve years ago. In all these years, no one in Adot was compelled to look on Ugly Collins. Not till last week did the public know he was alive. Even then thar was no gineral rejoicin’ nobody killed a fatted calf.

“Now Ugly’s mother died three years ago. A dear, uncomplainin’ old soul, the funeral was conducted by Romine, the undertaker, and was attended by many. Of course Romine would have to be paid. He got Logan to administer the estate. He had had Logan to do this in other cases. They understood each other very well.

“They found but little personal property. Although Ann Griggs, a neighbor, said the old lady Collins had been savin’ funeral money fer years had it hidden in a fruit jar, no sich fund was found. The real estate would have to be sold to pay the claim.

“Except fer Ugly, they was no heirs, en Ugly didn’t answer roll-call. By order of the court, Ugly was pronounced dead. Simmy Gordon, the village cut-up, said hit was a cheap funeral fer Ugly en good riddance. But Simmy was wrong, as usual. The home was sold by fine print hit was bid in by Romine fer about the price of his bill and the costs. Later Romine deeded hit to another, who in turn deeded hit to Logan, who now owns hit, en the yearly income would pay a funeral bill with flowers.

“Ugly’s return at this critical time rather upset Logan’s plans. Hit would interfere with his gittin’ a bank opened and himself back on the payroll. If Ugly had been flush with funds, had employed lawyer Gregory to git Ugly’s death-order rescinded, en pried into the details of the old lady’s estate, hit would have blowed the lid off. Hit would have shore been bricks and cabbages fer Logan, right when he’s plannin’ a posie shower.

“Forty dollars was none too big to fend off the disaster. But where Logan missed the gap in the fence was that he didn’t inquire as to details. He knew Ugly come in by train. He thought the forty would be expended in the same way.”

The two reached the Gillis home as the lady was lighting the lamp and setting out the evening meal. “Why, you and that girl must be preparing a lengthy address,” she said to Davy jestingly.

“That gal and I have surely had a busy day. We’ve certainly upset some precedents, broken some rules, and maybe some laws. Your brother here was a full participant, a co-conspirator, and was awarded the Medal of Intrigue by Mister Potter, when the meeting closed. But excuse me,” said the now jovial midget as he walked away. “I just can’t look at those baking-powder biscuits without grabbing one; I’m that wolfish.”

During the meal, Davy invited Landy to tell of the day’s happenings. “Yer new boarder here bought the Bar-O ranch trouble en all,” said Landy quietly. “En he’s plannin’ to promote the circus business by raisin’ a lot more lions, tigers, hyenas, en sich. He’s got a good start now, en he plans a glorious finish.”

The news electrified the Gillises. It provoked much discussion and required many explanations. It allowed Davy time to eat a hearty meal. Finishing, he pushed back his chair to state some final conditions.

“And I’ll not complete the final contract, not pay down a cent and throw up the whole thing, unless Mister Landy Spencer, here seated, pledges that he will join in with me in working the thing out to a final victory. No, I don’t mean that he’s to pay out anything, I’ll pay all, but he’s to say that he will stay with me, that he’ll manage the thing, plan production, hire the help, and get things going. And we’ll divide the profits. This depression can’t last. Already the wise ones are hearing the death rattle and last gasp. But it will take some time to recover and we must be ready when the bulge comes. Maybe there are some old cows over there that Landy says are dear at ten dollars a head. There are some unweaned calves, and a few unbranded yearlings that will just about pay the cost of their roundup. But that’s the foundation on which we are to build. What do you say, podner? Are you with me?”

“In yer listín’ of assets, ye haven’t invoiced Maizie,” said Landy. “Early this afternoon, I heard ye pricin’ her to Logan at a thousand dollars a week. En ye haven’t catalogued Hulls en the bulls, mebbe they’re wuth more than all the rest. Shore I’ll he’p ye. Hit’ll be a pleasure to hear ye try to mesmerize Maizie like ye did Logan, tellin’ her of this Coony Island place en the fortune tellers. We’ll go over thar in the mornin’ early en I’ll watch ye hypnotize her en Hulls, like ye did Logan. ’Course, if they’re gone, that’s our loss. We’ll invoice the remnants en leavin’s, en take a fresh start.”

Davy was early to bed but his rest was broken in trying to picture the probable conduct of two persons he had never seen. In his dreams, old Hulls and his threatening gun was a commonplace figure. But back of him, and in command, was the garish image of a black-haired, copper-complexioned virago, whose imperious death-dealing edicts recalled his early readings of Sir Walter and his vivid picturings of Helen, wife of Rob Roy, in her judgments of the fate of a common enemy. He was glad that daylight came to dispel the mental mirage.

“I never saw Landy so interested,” said Mrs. Gillis, as she placed Davy’s high chair at the table. “He was out feeding the horses long before Jim did the milking, and that’s unusual. Landy likes you likes to do the things you plan. Of course Landy has earned a rest, but there’s too many that rust out when they rest up. Landy is that kind. He needs to be interested in something. He’s had a lot of experience in the cattle business, and with your energy and planning and his experience, you ought to make a lot of money when this depression is over.”

“Well, I’m not so interested in the money-making as I am in making a success out of this liability. Of course I want it to pay its own way, pay for improved livestock, buildings, fencing, and the like. But I’m not much interested in piling up useless money in a resisting bank. Of course, when Ralph Gaynor comes out to visit us he’s the gent that introduced me over the phone when Ralph comes out, he’d like to see a fat bank account and talk woozy stuff of safety margins, earned increments and that crazy rot, but I yearn to show him a going concern, a likeable thing, prideful of its upbuilding.

“Landy and I will get along all right. He’s the only one of you that sasses back, offers objections, overrules plans. He won’t like it at all if I’m out with the colt and a couple of beagle hounds chasing jack rabbits when there’s hay to put up, but that’s the way we’ll get along.

“Landy will fuss if we can introduce electricity on the ranch, but he will weaken a little when he finds that it grinds the feed, refrigerates a whole beef, and cooks a meal without splitting kindling. And if a little surplus money accumulates, he would totally veto the plan of laying out a Spanish patio enclosing fine white buildings with red tile roofs and fancy grilles

“Why, that would be fine!” exclaimed the listener. “Would you do that?”

“Naw,” said the midget, “but if the occasion arises, I will introduce the subject just to see my old mentor paw around and fling dirt. It will keep him from rusting out, as you call it.”

“Do you plan moving over there if you get possession?”

“No, I will live, or rather headquarter, with Welborn as long as he lets me. Landy says that a rough, hazardous trail just back of our house leads directly to the near corner of the property. It’s the route of the old proposed road to the Tranquil Meadows. We’re to try that trail this morning, and I will have to stop and tell Welborn what I am doing. He will be surprised, but not interested. Welborn is self-centered on getting some ‘quick’ money. When he gets that done he’s going to be busy using it, either to straighten out his own financial affairs or to down or suppress some financier that has busted in on his plans. In either event, we will lose him. Welborn doesn’t belong out here. He belongs in the jam, the crush, the mob, where they strive only for personal gain either in bulking up a lot of money or acquiring personal rank or status. He’s young, industrious and impetuous; he might get it done. It’s a great game, I’m told; it engenders some joy and a lot of grief. Personally, I’d rather put in the time handling a pup or growing a clutch of chickens.”

Landy’s appearance with the saddled horses interrupted the discussion.