Then it was his turn to explain:
“I have felt all along, ever since I found Erminie here with our boy, that the place should never become again just ‘a house to rent.’ So I’ve bought it. I’ve found Padre Nicolas, the old priest whom the Indians love and trust, and deeded it to him in trust for them as a Home. Here Lazaro Gomez and the other ancients of his race shall dwell in comfort for the rest of their days. The only proviso is that Father Nicholas shall admit none who hasn’t reached the age of discretion – say, eighty-odd years, or so! Nor shall any of his charges be compelled to tame wild beasts and sell them for a livelihood. The good old priest is ready to take possession as soon as we vacate and will put everything into what Alfy calls ‘apple-pie order,’ according to a red man’s fancy. So, when everybody is ready – Don’t hurry, please! – we’ll board my car, the ‘Erminie,’ and take our leisurely way northward. It isn’t as if we had to say good-by, you see, for we’ll be all together still. As for Mrs. Calvert’s plan – maybe we can persuade her to postpone business awhile for a taste of real ranch life. Eh?”
But Mistress Elisabeth Cecil-Somerset-Calvert was a matron who never said “No” when she meant “Yes;” and she smilingly kept to her own purpose, yet took good care that no shadow of a coming separation should darken her beloved Dorothy’s wonderful trip in a private car. Just here we may recall to the readers’ attention that this young girl’s earlier experiences have been told in “Dorothy’s Schooling,” her “Travels” and “House Party” and best of all “In California.”
Now those happy days of travel and sightseeing had ended in the city of Denver. The “Erminie” was to be stripped and renovated and put aside to await its owner’s further orders. From this point the ranchers were to proceed by a coaching tour over the long and delightful road to the distant Rockies: while Mrs. Calvert, her black “boy,” Ephraim, and some women friends were to speed eastward by the fleetest “limited” express. One more short hour together, in a hotel dining-room, and the parting was due. Aunt Betty and Mrs. Ford had already been driven away to this hotel as Leslie and his girl guests followed his father from the “Erminie,” and seeing the downward droop of Dorothy’s lip he tried to divert her by exclaiming:
“There was never such a man as Dad! He never forgets. Never. I believe he knows every cripple between New York and San Francisco. I do, indeed. This fellow we’re going to give that ‘trash’ to is one of his pets. I remember him now. Got hurt in a railway smash but is as independent as they make ’em. Wouldn’t sue the company and wouldn’t take money from it when offered. Claimed he was stealing a ride and only got what he calls his ‘come-uppance’ when he got hurt. Dad was so astonished when he heard about that, he said the man ought to be ‘framed and put on exhibition, as the only case of his kind on record.’ Then he suggested this way of earning his living. He has the ‘boys’ keep him fixed up in a little sort of stand just yonder and they see to it that his stock never fails. The cripple’s as proud as Punch. Boasts that any honest man can do well in America if he tries. He hasn’t any legs left and his arms aren’t worth much but his spirit is the bravest ever. It would break his heart if he guessed that most of the stuff he sells is bought for my father by some of his employees, all on the sly. But he’ll never know it. That’s the best of Dad! His ‘boys’ love him. They think he’s just rippin’! And he is. Look now. See how that man’s face lights up when he hears that ‘Halloo’!”
Dorothy stopped short to exclaim:
“Bought the stuff and gave us most of it, and now will buy it over again just to throw away! I never heard anything like that!”
“Reckon you didn’t, for there is only one Dan Ford! But he doesn’t have it thrown away. He has it burned. He says, ‘Burned toads tell no tales,’ and the worst trouble the boys have is to get folks enough to buy the things for them. When they see a likely lookin’ tourist edging around the stand they use him, if they can. If they can’t it’s a ‘short day’ for Cripple Andy, but that doesn’t worry him. ‘The fat and the lean,’ he calls it. Oh! I say, he’s almost as rippin’ as Dad himself, he’s so plucky!”
The cripple’s face did indeed light up as Mr. Ford appeared before him and shouted that gay “Halloo!”
“Well, well, well! If you ain’t the best sight I’ve had since I saw you last. Halloo, yourself and see how you like it!” With this attempt at facetiousness, the seller of notions leaned forward over his stand and extended his best hand toward his benefactor.
“How’s business, Andy?”
“Tollable, sir, fairly tollable. Been sellin’ a lot o’ truck, lately, to some Cookies, and there was a reduction-school-ma’am-racket that nigh cleaned me out. See that your man Jed here has got a heap more things. How’d he come by them? Must ha’ cleared the country of reptiles, judgin’ by them samples.”
“Oh, he came by them fairly enough, Andy. These youngsters couldn’t live without the things when they first saw them, but now they’ll be grateful if you’ll take them off their hands. Maybe you can make something from them, maybe not. In any case they’re not going to San Leon on a buckboard with me! Take them off our hands, lad, and do a good deed once in your life!”
By this time Mr. Ford had placed his own two strong hands over the shrivelled one of the peddler and was pressing it warmly, while the two looked into one another’s eyes with mutual respect and liking. Then when the hands unclasped there was left on Andy’s palm a glittering double eagle.
Dorothy, watching, wondered at this, after hearing Leslie’s boast of the cripple’s independence; and there did a flush rise in his face for a moment, till Mr. Ford said:
“For Laddie, you know. If you can’t use it – pass it on!”
The flush died out of the vender’s cheek and a soft look came over it. “So I will, man, so I will. Thank God there’s always somebody poorer than me! Good-by, and good luck, Boss! By that token I never seen you look that happy as you do this day, man alive, never!”
“I never had such reason to be glad, Andy boy! Good-by, good-by!”
Mr. Ford started off at a brisk pace, the young folks trying to equal his long strides, and Alfaretta asking:
“Is that cripple crazy? What’d he mean by sellin’ things to ‘Cookies’ and what’s a ‘school-ma’am-racket’?”
Leslie laughed and answered:
“A ‘racket’ of that sort has nothing to do with tennis, Miss Babcock, at your service; and ‘Cookies’ are just Cook’s tourists. All railroaders call them that; and I suppose the ‘racket’ was a cheap excursion the school-ma’ams were taking. Odd, isn’t it? That though all Andy’s trouble came from the railroad he claims to belong to it as one of its ‘boys.’ He’s rippin’, Andy is. He told father ’t he ‘teached school’ himself, once! But he got so tired of it that the sight of a spelling-book made him sick.”
“It does me, too,” said Alfy, with sympathy.
“So he ‘cut and run,’ and rode on trains in every direction as long as his money held out. Then he stole the ride that ended his travels right here in Denver. Hello! where’s Dad?”
They had loitered along the way and he had simply outstripped them. So without even a quarter in his purse but in his most lordly air, Leslie hailed a cab to carry them to the hotel he knew was that habitually patronized by his father; and a few minutes later they rode up to the entrance in state.
An attendant hastened to the curb to assist the “young ladies” out of the cab, but the hackman laid a detaining hand upon Leslie’s shoulder with the remark:
“Fares, please.”
“Eh? Just settle that with Mr. Daniel Ford, inside. Here, Buttons, you find Mr. Ford and ask him to step here. It’ll be all right, Jehu, and let’s hurry, girls, else we’ll be late for dinner.”
He