RR
- the foot of a throne.
Demorraic iat
Bellefonte, Pa., November 13, 1903.
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KEEP HUSTLING,
You may strike a day or two
When the world looks very blue,
Keep bustling.
Good hard work kills mighty few,
Probably twill not hurt you,
Keep hustling.
If you have a willing hand,
Orders you are sure to land,
Keep hustling.
If the merchant turns you down
Do not leave him with a frown.
Keep hustling.
1f “that draft’’ does not arrive
Don’t you fret : you will survive,
Keep hustling.
— Business World.
THE WOLF OF COYOTE HOLLOW.
The first time Theodore Wolf beheld
Coyote Hollow was on a hot forenoon after
he had loped the length of Kernan’s Coulee,
from the lower end of which the Hollow
spreads out like the floor of a ballroom at
To Theodore, as he
looked, there came the heart-moving recog-
nition that there lay a kingdom, which he,
with his spotted cayuse for a war horse,
had stumbled upon and could, by force of
wit and activity, subdue to his rule. He
had there come suddenly face to face with
that deepest and most variable charm of
the West—opportunity.
As a youth of twenty-five, sent out to
this northwestern corner of the desert to
serve on a cattle ranch in a serious endeavor
to recoup the losses of health that had fol-
lowed his entrance as a rich man’s son into
Cornell, Theodore had one by one discov-
ered and fallen in love with the three
graces of a new country,—freedom, oppor-
tunity and a woman. First, he found that
he could go as he pleased, and that so long
as he rode bard on the task of bis choice,
his health improved. Second, he saw men
on all sides making and losing with easy
grace, and soon felt the intoxication of a
life which daily made rich men of adven-
turers and brought conquests to the wide
awake. His own education made him
honors easy with fortune, and he was soon
foreman for Dartford, an old-fashioned,
narrow-minded cattleman, whose ranch
was just south of Kernan City, whose
range* was that desert where lay the big
bend of the Columbia, and whose constant
fear was the encroachment of irrigation
and the day of fences. Third and last,
Theodore had met that girl of the West
who is born on the border, but, unhinder-
ed by distance, is educated at a state uni-
versity,and is less provincial than her town
bred sister. That she was the daughter of
Dartford; that Theodore’s people were
urging him to drop his foremanship and re-
turn to Cornell; and that Theodore believ-
ed in irrigation as firmly as Dartford hated
it, were mere incidents of an interesting
situation.
As Theodore drew rein at the lower end
of Kernan’s Coulee and looked that first
time on the shimmering flat of eight thou-
sand desolate acres—a flat made more
dreary by its repulsive name, Coyote Hol-
low—his forgotten air castles, built in Cor-
nell aronnd his reading on theoretic irriga-
tion, sprang again before him. His pony’s
hoofs struck on a shelf of rock from which
a ragged trail led down fifty feet to the flat
below. Behind him Kernan’s Coulee ran
back like a gigantic drain hued out of the
bordering basaltic cliffs which towered up
like sky-scrapers on a long Broadway. At
its upper end it was but a few feet above
the boiling, rushing, full-bankedt Colum-
bia, whose current was young from the
snow-treasuring mountains. That Ker-
nan’s Coulee had once been the course of
the Columbia was evident. Now that river
ran in a lower hed, and circled below the
desert flat. But the man who should first
ascend the Columbia to build an intake
and lead a flume to Kernan’s Coulee, might
turn the old river bed intoa modern irriga-
tion canal, and the eight thousand acres of
Coyote Hollow would blossom as a garden
under the flow of water.
Theodore Wolf was filled with wonder as
he felt the possibilities of the thought, not
only that 1t seemed so undeniably real,but
that some one bad not seen it before him.
Down yonder ran two lines of steel, where
the railroad ran away till the eye lost it;
why had not some follower of the railroad
met this opportunity long ago? There
were cattlemen all about; why had not one
of these located the water right at the
head of the Coulee, that he, when the old-
fashioned ocattleman’s sun should set for-
ever; might hecome an irrigation king ?
Theodoresent his pony down to the flat and
loped around the outer edge of the Coulee to
the railroad station of Coyote Hollow. The
station boasted of a detruoked freight
car, which was used az a telegraph opera-
tor’s room, a water tank aud a sidetrack,
a cattle run and the agent’s house. . The
cattlemen, in their local humor, called the
detrncked car the ‘‘union depot.’” To this
Theodore went with orders for certain cars
wanted by old man Dartford to ship a con-
signment of cattle. Then he rode back
through the long Coulee and looked closely
among the rocks at the upper end for a
locator’s notice. There was none there.
Next pay he posted a notice at the head of
the Conlee and then went to Wenatchee to
file his claim with the county recorder. By
consulting the records he found that Coyote
Hollow was state land, not being included
in the railroad grant. The law allowed
him to make a contract to buy at $1.25 an
acre, one-tenth down and the balance on
or before ten years at six per dent. He
unhesitatingly drew $800 from his personal
savings at the Wenatchee National Bank
and made his first payment, thus becom-
ing owner of eight thousand desolate acres
which the cattlemen would have termed
‘‘a hell-and-gone snake hole.”
«Theodore remained with old man Dart-
ford till the spring loading was complete.
Then he gave notice that he was going
back East to see his folks. To Miss Dart-
ford he gave notice also; that he was going
East to persuade his father to join him in
constructing the ditch and reclaiming the
flat; that when he was king of that new
kingdom of the desert, he should ask her
to be its queen.
Edva Dartford was as much moved by
his plan as Theodore had been when he
first looked, oclear-eyed and ready, at the
opportunity itself. To her mind, irriga-
tion was the natural destiny of the desert,
and she had no sympathy with her father’s
railings against the men who were to bring
it about. Yet she knew that he would
fight blindly and passionately against the
fenced principality that would follow a
great ditch across Coyote Holiow. .
“I wish you success,” she replied to her
*The words “ranch and “range” are used in
‘the far West correlatively. Range signifies open
countrys a ranch is’ a home, which may consist
ofone building or: several, with a small garden
‘or a Widély ‘diversified farm.
14
lover. ‘‘But, Theo! My father will fight
vou day, night and Sunday. What shall
I do then ?”’
*‘Help me convert him,”’ said Theodore,
and that was his farewell.
Plans which seem to be so destined for
success that they become half realities to
the enthusiastic plotter, become singularly
cold and retiring when spread before
strangers. It was with pain that Thso-
dore found that his father smiled at his
enthusiastic picture of a future for Coyote
Hollow, but pat the plans gently by. The
great ranges between the Rocky Mountains
and the still further Western Cascades
were a long way from New York, and the
elder Wolf’s eyes were prone to gaze on
Metropolitan stocks. But when Theodore,
in desperation, sought out the president of
the great transcontinental road whose rails
split Coyote Hollow in twain, and laid his
plan before the railway king, he found a
friend. Said the king : ‘‘If water will run
down Kernan’s Coulee, I'll lend you all
you need to build your ditch.’” Then,
seeing that others valued what his son bad
found, the elder Wolf hastened to say that,
if Theodore would go out West, again, sur-
vey the line of the proposed canal and prove
that water would run down hill in Ker-
nan’s Coulee, he would himself finance the
enterprise. But before going, Theodore
carried his father to the railway magnate.
The great man had, by his own efforts,
builded an empire in the Northwest. He
admired men who did things for them-
selves. He admired Theodore at first sight
for what he had done. Now, he entered
into the conversion of Wolf, senior, as
though the safety of his great railroad de-
pended upon it. The president called for
a map of his road, and, spreading it ona
table, began the education of a New
Yorker.
“Eight thousand acres of iand can be re-
claimed by a ditch twelve feet wide at the
bottom, carrying a flow of water from three
or four miles up the Columbia into the up-
per end of Kernan’s Coulee. Granting
that this oid Coulee has a slight down
grade for its entire length, a natural earth-
en ditch may be run in it with scrapers.
“This ditch must deliver water to the high-
est point of Coyote Hollow. Then the
reclaiming of the whole flat becomes a
mere matter of building lateral ditches
here and there on the flat as needed. This
big flume to the upper end of Kernan’s
Coulee will cost $50,000 at least. The
ditch down the Coulee will cost much less.
Your son has made a contract for all that
land at $1.25 an acre, or $10,000 all told.
He has ten years in which to pay for this.
He can sell every acre in two years after
water runs on that flat.”’
“Is it possible !’”” exclaimed the elder
Wolf.
“Those eight thousand acres are worth
at least $100 each the day water runs out
of the lower end of the Coulee,’’ continued
the king. ‘‘My railroad has an immigra-
tion department that will help get settlers.
But that’s not all. Eight thousand acres
will support a good-sized town, in which
half-acre home lots will sell for $500, and
in the town site proper for much more.
So, instead of the eight thousand acres in
Coyote Hollow becoming worth $800,000,
you must add the increased value for the
town site. Your son has cut the trail of a
proposition that is worth $2,000,000 if it is
worth a cent.”’
Then the elder Wolf went home to figure
on the wonders of irrigation, while Theo-
dore went West to become a surveyor.
While Theodore was in the East two,
people watched for his return with eager
eyes. Edna Dartford heard daily the
rumors which reached Kernan City con-
cerning Theodore’s purchase of Coyote Hol-
low and his securing of the water rights of
Kernan’s Coulee. Naturally, the town
was divided on so sensational a step in
local improvement. The: news had not
gained circulation till Theodore had gone
East. Then rumor shook itself and ‘became
very busy. His people were very rich,said
rumor, and he would return with ample
means to build his ditch. Then the cattle-
men roared, and said that if be interfered
with the spring grazing of their herds on
Coyote Hollow they would send the
Stranglers after him. The railroad would
build a town where the ‘‘unnion depot’
stood, said rumor, and a wise man ought
to get in early. Then the speculators rush-
ed off to the recorder, and found that Theo-
dore had been there before them. Thus,
in his absence, he became both bated and
envied. And a certain spirited girl found
herself hot and cold between the short-
gighted prejudices of an ignorant father
and the glowing word pictures of a boom-
believing country editor.
But another human heart beat warm for
Theodore’s return. An Indian boy from
the near-by reservation came daily to the
‘‘anion depot’’ to watch for the arrival of
the west-bound overland. Little Wolf
had learned much that was usefal from
Theodore, and had adopted himself to be
the White Wolf's little red brother. The
Indians on the reservation had many miles
of small irrigation ditches, and Theodore
had taught Little Wolf to be a stick-stuck
man and make new ditches for the tribe.
The Indians had been grateful to Theo-.
dore Wolf for this, and had named him
Digging Wolf, a title at which the irriga-
tion-bating cattlemen laughed in derision.
Now that rumors were flying about that
the cattlemen were on the trail of Digging
Woll, the Indians had sent Little Wolf to
meet the train and warn their benefactor.
Theodore stopped in Spokane long enough
to purchase surveying ivstruments and a
camping outfit and to engage two com-
petent assistants. With these men and ac-
couterments he proceeded to Coyote Hol-
low, where the watchful Little Wolf met
him at the car steps, and delivered his
warning.
Theodore listened attentively, and then
sent the Indian to the Dartford ranch with
a note to Edna. Then he gave his atten-
tion to pitching camp at the bottom of the
Couiee to securing ponies and preparing to
commence the survey.
Edna’s reply really disturbed the young
man. She wrote that he must not come to
see her except by day, and then only with
friends, so bitter was her father toward
him. She feared her father would provoke
a quarrel solely for the excuse of making
Theodore a target for some sneak of a cow-
boy. No cattle owner could afford to get
the state of Washington after him by com-
mitting murder; but for a little cash in
hand a man might be found to take a shot
at a cattleman’s enemy and then fade from
the scene and be safe on other ranges.
Next day Theodore and his two assistants
rode to the Dartford ranch and were wel-
comed hy Edna.
of Indians hovered near, unbeknown to
Theodore. Old man Dartford was sarly.
‘I hear you're fixin’ to play hell with
your irrigation ditches,”’ said he to Theo-
dore. ‘‘That fool dad of yourn must want
to lose his money a lob.”’
The younger man had not worked in a
cattle conntry three years to be frightened
by a man’s temper. He merely replied in
kind. ; J
“I’ll make more money out of Coyote
Hollow in two years than you have in all
your life. And when I’ve done it, I'll
Little Wolf and a band |
give you a chance to sell your cattle and
come into the game.”’
‘*When I sell them cattle,’”’ said Dart-
ford, ‘‘it won’t he on your account.’’
‘‘All right,’’ said Theodore. ‘Bat I ex-
pect to begin fencing Coyote Hollow next
April. If you are looking for any grazing
there next spring, you had better change
your plaps.”’
The old cattleman sneered. ‘‘Fence
hell! You won’t live to fence your own
grave.”’
**Mr. Dartford,”’ said Theodore, looking
into the sneering eyes. ‘‘I have bought
Coyote Hollow from the state of Washing-
ton. Itis my land. If you come on there
after I say ‘keep off,” then you become an
outlaw, just as I would be by coming here
after you bad told me to keep off. And
when I get ready to fence, I shall not
worry about any disgruntled cattlemen.”’
**Threaten me, do ye?’ shouted the oid
man. ‘“‘Think you can bluff old Dartford
in bis own house? Git t’hell outter here,
and don’t ever show up here again.”
‘‘Certainly,’’ said Theodore,and smiling-
ly took his departure.
Next day Edna sent him a photograph,
and the big, broad shouldered cowboy who
carried it asked Theodore for a job.
‘“You-all calls the old gentleman down
so prompt,’’ said he, ‘‘that we boys figure
you makes him some sour. May be I can
help some in this stick-stuck game, and
kind of bea guard around camp. The
boys who used to ride the range under you
likes your nerve. We don’t know this
irrigation game, but we aims to see fair
play a lot. May be if you organize your
camp some warlike you scares trouble away
at the jump.”
Theodore was pleased to bear from his
former comrades in this manner, and glad-
ly employed the cowboy to bethe fourth
member of the surveying party.
In another day they were ready, and be-
gan at the lower end of the Coulee. If
became evident at once that the bed of the
Coulee rose slightly. In three days they
reached the upper end, and Theodore wired
his father :
‘Water will run down hill through Ker-
nan’s Coulee.”
To which the father replied : ;
‘‘Congratulations. Draw on me for what
you need. Push the work."’
With ample money to his credit at the
Wenatchee National Bank, Theodore put
three engineering parties at work above the
Coulee to run the grade and plat the work
up to the falls, at the crest of which he
proposed to build the intake. Even in
carrying the water this short distance there
were difficulties to be overcome which
necessitated every form of ditch construc-
tion except tunneling; namely, earth work,
flaming, pipe line and bridging. While
the surveying and platting were progress-
ing along the high bank of the Columbia
above the railroad, Theodore built a sub-
stantial camp with houses for all the men,
animals and tools that would be needed for
the construction work.
In the main house Theodore had his
room, which was both sleeping-room and
office. Here the figuring was'done. To
Little Wolf, who came frequently to ask
about the progress of the work, it seemed
right that a photograph of Edna. full
length in white, should stand over the
desk. The figures that Digging Wolf
made under the guidance of the white
girl’s spirit must come right. Thus, one
day, Little Wolf was not surprised to find
Digging Wolf and his engineers in high
spirits over the completed plans. Theo-
dore called him to look at the drawings.
‘‘Here, Little Wolf ! Come and see your
white brother’s map. We will build a
flame around that butte, high up—see, on
my map? Then a pipe across the ravine—
a pipe in which water runs down one side
and up on the other. Then more flame,
over this bridge and a ditch on down to
the Coulee. When the geese fly north next
spring, Little Wolf, we will have water
running on Coyote Hollow.”’
“Water. Good,’ said the Indian. Then
he thought a moment.
‘“Water run up hill, Digging Wolf ?”’
Yes, in a pipe.”’
“What makes it ?"’ Little Wolf looked
at Edna’s pictureand wondered if she were
a medicine squaw to do this.
Theodore picked upa spirit level and
handed it to the Indian.
“Tell me, Little Wolf, why the spirit
level bubble always goes up hill.”
‘‘Because the water in the glass with the
spirit bubble is heavy, while the bubble is
light. The heavy water goes to the bhot-
tom and pushes the light bubble up.”
‘“Then,’’ said Theodore, ‘‘if I make a
long glass tube and bend it near the mid-
dle so as to make one side shorter than the
other, and set the ends straight up and
pour water into the long side and you pour
water into the short side till the two wa-
ters meet at the bottom in the bend of the
tube, what would happen ?’’
‘I see. The heavy water would push
the light water up.”
“That is the way we build our pipe
across the ravine. The end next the river
is higher than the end at the mouth of the
Coulee. The water running down the long
side pushes the water up and out of the
short side.”
Little Wolf thought a moment, to fix
this miracle in his mind. Then he smiled
at the thought of the Indians on the res-
ervation and what they would say when
he told them that Digging Wolf could make
water run up hill !
The completion of the surveys establish-
ed Theodore as a bona fide land baron. His
call for workmen to commence grading in
the Coulee and the erecting of flames,
bridges and pipe line was the signal for a
boom in Kernan City. By the middle of
September construction was begun, and
Theodore began selling land under a
guarantee to deliver water on Coyote Hol-
low by the tenth day of the following
March. He gathered to his camp many of
the men who had worked under him on
the ranges. Their loyalty was unquestion-
ed, and each one was paced in charge of a
seotion of the work. Besides their wages
and board he promised each of these sub-
captains of industry a twenty-acre ranch at
its cost to him—$1.25 per acre—with wa-
ter right free, on condition that they rush
the work to completion by the tenth day
of February.
As the fall season wore on, the work as-
sumed proportions that astonished even
the sneering fringe of cattlemen, who hung
along the edge of the wheat fields that
pushed out from the western base of the
Rockies and left the cattlemen sovereignty
only of the semi-arid desert that lay west-
ward to the Cascades. The progress of
Wolf’s enterprise was not so alarming in
itself, since eight thousand acres was a
mere dot on the range. But the enthu-
siasm with which it was greeted by the
merchants of Kernan City, by the in-pour-
ing strangers and, lastly, by the railroad,
was alarming. The success of this enter-
prise would mean the undertaking of more
such, each of which would fence the cattle-
men from a part of the great, free range.
A few of the cattle raisers saw the inevit-
able and came to . Theodore Wolf, made
contracts to buy irrigated land, and then
made ready to sell their herds in the
spring.
A few sat down 1n sullen defiance, and
gave out that they would run Wolf off the
range ‘‘come spring grass.”’ Others were
jealous of Theodore because they them-
selves had not thought of irrigating that
flat, and declared that ‘‘some one ought to
shoot the d——tenderfoot and jump his
water right a lot.”’
The intake was built substantially, and
Little Wolf was set to guard it. He pitch-
ed his lodge there, and felt that he was
highly honored. The half mile of plank
flame that was to carry the water to the
edge of the ravine was finished in time to
test the pipe line, and flood the remaining
flames, before the frosts of mid winter caus-
ed a shutting off at the intake. The holi-
days found the woodwork completed, and
only the stubborn grading in the Coulee to
be finished.
January drew to a close, with the work
well along and Theodore’s men bent all
their energies to complete the grading by
the tenth day of February. But the stub-
born ground grew harder, for the day’s
rain of a winter thaw soaked into it and
the night's cold froze it. A few yards of
grading remained when the sun went down
over the western edge of the Coulee on the
evening of February 9th.
**You have all day to-morrow to com-
plete it,’’ said Theodore to his subcaptains.
*‘If you do not strike gravel or a crack 1
the floor of the Coulee, you will win. If
you do, I may have to offer vou three days
of grace. I had the intake opened to-day
and the flumes are filled and running over.
If you do your work you will see water on
the Hollow to-morrow.”’
The tired men were greatly cheered by
that unexpected concession, and went to
their weary beds mentally rehearsing every
step of to-morrow’s work. Theodore went
to his room and sat down before the photo-
graph—her photograph--for a smoke be-
fore retiring. How often had he sat there
and faced unexpected problems in the
work; how much of an inspiration her
counterfeited presence had heen. To-mor-
row! He closed his eyes and dreamed of
the scene.
A dog barked shrilly outside and a band
of coyotes off on the Hollow answered with
their shrill ery. Theodore heard the soft,
rapid pounding of a pony’s hoofs in the
soil. Then came a cry : :
“Wolf! Wolf !”?
Theodore recognized the voice of his In-
dian brother, Little Wolf, and sprang to
the door.
“Digging Wolf will call all his men and
arm them!” cried the Indian, drawing
rein. ‘‘Then he will go to his wooden pipe
which is buried in the ravine. The coyotes
who drive the Injun from the good land—
the white covotes who snarl when the Wolf
builds a great ditchb—are coming to destroy
5?
Theodore was frozen with horror at the
red man’s words.
‘Digging Wolf bad better take the pic-
ture of the girl and run. Little Wolf will
call the men and lead them to the wooden
pipe. Then, when the coyotes come, Little
Wolf will lead the fight.”’
Edna! How that thought cut him. He
grasped the iron and struck the great tri-
angle which hung at the ranch door, and
all Coyote Hollow resounded with its
clamors. Half clad men came pouring out
of the bunk houses, and all the yellow
coyotes for miles around wailed in fright at
the noise.
*‘Good, Digging Wolf, good !"’ shouted
the Indian. ‘‘Now listen to Little Wolf.
It is thirty miles around the reservation to
the south. Let ten men go to the wooden
pipe with rifles to meet any stray coyotes.
Little Wolf will ride to the Injuns and bid
them drive back those coyotes, who call
themselves men, and make them ride
around. They must pass here to reach the
pipe. But they cannot reach here before
daylight. Little Wolf will follow them
and build signal fires of sage brush that
Digging Wolf may know how fast they
ride. Then let the men put the plow again
to the ground. If water runs on Coyote
Hollow when they come, then these coy-
otes who ride on horses dare not destroy
the wooden pipe of my brother, the Digging
Wolf.”
Theodore recognized the value of the In-
dian’s plan. Water once flowing on Coy-
ote Hollow established his water right, and
any man destroying his flume then became
subject to the criminal laws of the state,
and Theodore could recover damages from
the raiding cattlemen. If he could finish
his ditch by daylight, the cattlemen would
not dare attack it. Turning to Little Wolf
he threw his right band into the air, and
with one word set the night’s work in mo-
tion :
“Go 1m
The men aroused from their deep sleep
by this night alarm, would bave preferred
to take their rifles and give battle to the
raiders. But Theodore’s sharp commands
to harness and to push the final grading
brought them to a sense of their responsi-
bility to him. They groaned, swore and
obeyed. There was no moon, but a cloud-
less sky allowed every star to lend its aid,
and men could see.
Theodore sent ten men to guard the pip-
ing and intake. Three men were sent to
open the end of the flume and allow water
to flow into the ditch at the head of the
Coulee. The remaining leaders divided
the lahorers and soon had the horses bar-
nessed and clanking off toward the Coulee.
Theodore roused his Chinamen and order-
ed that a plenty of coffee be made and
brought to the Coulee.
The work was hard on tized backs and
smarting eyes. Hardly bad the first six-
teen horse plow marked a furrow to the
end of the Coulee when Theodore saw, off
to the southward, a signal fire. The clash
had come, and the Indians had won. The
raiders must now ride south and double
the reservation. He urged his men to work
carefully and not waste their strength.
A plow broke, and men dragged it to the
shop to struggle with it under a poor light.
A horse fell, and there was delay in get-
ting the creature out of the tangled straps.
Another plow struck the basaltic founda-
tion of the Coulee and disclosed a crack.
That meant planking. And off a bit to the
south was a second signal fire.
The scrapers laid the rock floor bare, and
the planks were brought to cover it. The
soil was heaped up on both sides, and laid
a foot deep on the planks. Then came the
creeping snake of water finding its way for
the first time down the long ditch in the
bed of the Coulee. Theodore followed is,
fearing at each foot of advance that it would
find a bed of gravel or a crack in the rock
beneath and disappear in the thirsty earth.
Dead south now there was a third signal
fire.
But the water came on and on, till it
overtook the graders, and until the horses
splashed in it as they dragged their empty
scrapers along to follow the plows, If no
more planking were needed, the water
would reach the gap and pour over it by
daylight. That would complete the water
right. They could take their time about
subditches and laterals across the Hollow.
Look—a fourth signal fire! The raiders
wo CAI
had turned the bottom of the reservation
and were riding eastward !
Men and beasts settled down to a strug-
gle that seemed broken only by the flash of
each new signal fire which marked the ap-
proach of the determined raiders. Theo-
dore paced the remaining distance at each
new signal, and felt that she race would be
close. Just as a signal flashed up, show-
ing that the raiders were on the lower end
of Coyote Hollow and riding north toward
the ranch, Theodore ordered the horses to
the stables, and sent the men to get their
rifles and shovels. Slowly they scooped
the soft volcanic ash away from the advanc-
ing water and led it in a small stream to
the gap. Just as the first streaks of day
touched Coyote Hollow, a thin stream
trickled over the shelf, grew to a flashing
cascade and then to a full flow, which
tumbled off the shelf to the flat in an audi-
bie, continuous roar. The tired men threw
down their shovels and lay flat to rest.
Theodore, the light of victory in his eye,
went from man to man with a hand clasp \
and a word of congratulation. Soon the
dust of the approaching raiders, who were
making for the lower end of the Conlee to
ride along it to the upper end, could be
seen, and he called his men to sit beside
him. At the mouth of the Coulee, rifles
across their knees, the picked shots sat in a
row and waited. The less nervy men were
sent behind rocks, over which they rested
their rifles.
The raiders were riding slowly, for their
pouies were spent. They came on steadily,
passed the ranch house and halted before
the waiting men at the Coulee. The lead-
er was surprised when his horse stopped
suddenly and drank from a pool at his
feet. Looking up, he saw water flowing
fcom the shelf. Looking again, he caught
the glint of many rifles along the rocks.
He was sarprised. as he had planned to
pass the camp before the men were up.
Theodore was equally surprised to recog-
nize the leader as his future father-in-law,
old man Dartford.
‘“You don’t suppose we’re goin’ to call
that d—— puddle runnin’ water, do yer ?”’
shouted Dartford, sullen even under Theo-
dore’s rifles.
“Your cayuse knows it,’’ replied Theo-
dore, and the men behind the rocks laugh-
ed derisively.
“Well, let’s see who can get to yomr
d—— pipe first,”’ and the leader swung his
cayuse around toward the river.
‘“‘Halt !”” commanded Theodore. The
raiders heard the cocking of rifles behind
the rocks, and stopped.
Little Wolf, riding bard with a small
band of red men, swung up to the pool and
halted, facing the raiders. Raising his
rifle, he covered old man Dartford.
‘‘Coyote ! Snake! Get down — get
down!”
The old cattle owner glanced from Little
Woll’s rifle to the gleaming muzzles in the
rocks, and then slid to his feet.
‘‘Get down and drink !”’
Slowly, cursing in his fary, but fearful
of resistance, the cattleman knelt and
drank. The voice of Little Wolf rang out
clear and defiant :
“What is i6?"’
The old man choked out something be-
tween an oath and a groan.
‘‘What’s that ?’’ cried Little Wolf again.
‘Water !”” yelled the exasperated cattle-
man. Then realizing that be bad publicly
acknowledged Theodore Wolf’s water right,
he raised his clenched hands above his
head aud swore. But the laughter of
Theodore’s men rang out among the rocks,
alike drowning the sound of this puny
man’s wrath and proclaiming that hence-
forth a Wolf would be master of Coyote
Hollow.—By Joseph Blethen in The Pil-
grim for November.
Webster’s Blue Suit.
Daniel Webster went to college in a
home spun suit, of which probably every
thread was carded, spun and woven by his
mother's band from the wool of their own
sheep. It was a dyed-in-the-wool suit,and
the color was indigo blue, the old New
England color. In the south itis butter-
nut, but though our Yankee grandmothers
knew all about what butternut bark would
do and the subtle power for the slate color
that lay in sumach berries and bark of
white maple and various dyes that root and
flower, bark and leaf could be made to
vield, through the agency of vitriol and
copperas to ‘‘set’’ them fast, the universal
standby, was the blue potpar excellence the
‘‘dye pot’’ that stood in the chimney cor-
ner of every Kitchen worth naming. So
Webster was fitted out in indigo blue from
3ollar to ankle—unbecoming for his swart
skin—and set off grand and sophomoric.
Before reaching Hanover there came on one
of those drenching rains, which, like the
Scottish mists, wet a man to the skin. The
suit held its own (for has not indigo blue
been ‘‘warranted fast’’ since first indigo was
heard of ?), but it had parted with enough
so that Daniel, too, was dyed blue from
head to foot. Daniel Webster had a liberal
stratum of sentiment in his make up, and
for some reason this color of his young
manhood became his favorite wear through
life. He wore blue coats to his dying day.
If anyone ever saw bim in a different one
the fact has not been put on record.
When a lad Daniel Webster was one day
called up by his teacher for punishment.
His hands happened to be very dirty.
Knowing this, he wet the palm of his right
hand, wiping it off on the side of his panta-
loons. ‘“‘Give me your hand,” said the
teacher, very sternly. Out went the right
band, partially cleansed. The teacher
looked at it a moment and said : ‘‘Daniel,
if you will find another hand in this room
as filthy as that I will les you go for this
time.’” Instantly came from behind his
back the left hand. ‘‘Here it is,”’ was the
ready reply. ‘‘That will do,’ said the
teacher; ‘‘for this time you can take your
seat, sir!”
Daring Robbery at Altoona.
Miss Ruth Clark, the bookkeeper at Con-
tractor Jobn Vipond’s office in Altoona,
was using the telephone Wednesday, when
she heard a noise behind her. Glancing
around, she beheld a masked man lolding
a revolver at her head. He demanded to
know where the money was kept. She
indicated a satchel on the table, and he
knocked her down, sying a towel around
ber head to prevent outery.
As she fell she screamed. Ired Banker
to whom she was talking over the telephone,
heard the scream, and notified the polize.
They found Miss Clark unconscious on the
floor and the satchel, which contained $300
in pay envelopes, gone.
The robber left no clue. The office is on
one of the busiest thoroughfares in Altoona.
This is the second time Miss Clark has
been a robber’s victim.
Less Expensive.
‘‘He said he’d rather face father than
elope.”’
‘‘And what did you say ?"’ ’
“I said that father would rather have
us elope.’’—Cleveland Plain’ Dealer.
Modern Walled City.
Concrete Construction to Protect Galveston's
Homes. To Ward of the Bay's Waters. A
Three-Mile Barrier, Which will Prevent any
Recurrence of the Awful Disaster Experienced
by that Community.
As a result of the terrible Galveston dis-
aster of September 8th, 1900, which was
attended by the destruction of thousands
of lives and much property, that enter-
prising city to-day is buildingan immense
sea wall, which not only should prevent
the recurrence of such a calamity, but also
bring confidence for the future to its com-
mercial success. The corner-stone of the
immense undertaking was laid on Febru-
ary 23rd of this year and the actual work
begun on March 12th. When completed,
the work will present a solid concrete wall,
17 feet high, along the Golf front, for a
distance of three miles. Of this nearly
6000 feet have already been completed.
THE WALL'S CONSTRUCTION.
The wall is not of the same thickness at
the top and bottom,but is built more like a
basin, and will offer the best resistance to
the water. Thus while the top of the wall
is only five feet thick, the base is 16 feet,
the whole extending in a curve. Riprap
occupies 27 feet in front of the wall. As
the right of way adopted called for a strip
150 feet wide the entire length of the route,
the balance behind the wall is to be filled
to a level with the proposed new grade of
the city. The mile of wall already com-
pleted has heen examined by experts, who
pronounce it as one of the finest projects of
its kind in the world.
HOW THE WALL IS BUILT.
More clearly to understand the various
features of construction it may be said that
the work is divided into five phases, as fol-
lows: First, driving the round piling
foundation; second, driving the sheet pil-
ing; third, laying the concrete foundation;
fourth, placing the riprap protection in-
front of the wall proper. The round pil-
ing varies in length from 40 to 44 feet. It
is driven to the clay stratum, and this var-
ies in depth below the surface along the
beach. Soundings were made along the
entire length of the right of way to ascer-
tain the exact length of piling required to
reach the clay. The round piling is driven
in rows of four and three feet apart the en-
tire length of the wall. Upon this found-
ation, is placed the concrete foundation
three feet thick.
The driving of the round piling is the
first work; then comes the driving of the
sheet piling. The latter is driven out side
of the round piling, or on the Gulf side,
board to board, the same as a closed board
fence, and serves as a protection for the
round piling behind it. Following be-
hind the steam pile-driver comes the small
mixing machine. This machine mixes the
concrete for the base of the wall. All the
material used in the concrete is loaded di-
rect from the cars into the mixing machine,
which mixes the rock, cement, sand and
water, and then distributes the mixture in-
to the mould, where it dries and hardens.
The big mixing machine and the small
mixing machine are operated on the same
principle, the only difference being that
the big machine feeds the concrete into the
moulds for the wall proper, while the small
machine feeds the concrete into the moulds
for the base of the wall, which is three feet
thick, and, of course, the same width as the
wall—16 feet.
BREAKING THE FORCE OF THE WAVES.
After the piling foundation and the con-
crete foundation or base have been finished
the riprap is placed in front of the wall be-
fore the wall is put up. The riprap consists
of granite rocks weighing from 200 to 1000
pounds each. They are piled three feet
high for 27 feet outside the wall. This is
intended as a farther protection for the
foundation of the wall in breaking the
force of the waves. In time this apron of
riprap will gradually sink and serve as a
double protection for the piling foundation
behind it.
After the piling and concrete foundations
are finished and the riprap placed outside
comes the construction of the wall itself.
The big mixing machine, with a capacity
of 250 cubic yards a day, is moved along
on railroad tracks. From cars loaded with
crushed rock and sand the big plant is fed.
Cement and water are added. The revol-
ving receptacle soon mixes these materials,
and has the concrete ready for use. The
concrete is dumped into skids and hoisted
over to the top of the mould, and then
dumped into it. These moulds are simply
wooden hox affairs, built in the shape of
the wall. After the concrete has been
tamped and dried the framework,or mould,
is removed and used again for the mould-
ing of another section.
Five railroad tracks are used variously
in the construction of the wall.
FILLING BEHIND THE WALL.
Back of the wall the right of way pur-
chased will be filled to a level with the top
of the wall. On top of this 100-foot strip
a 10-foot sidewalk and 40-foot driveway
will be constructed, and the remaining
poréion planted in Bermuda grass. It is
proposed to build a railway along the out-
side of the concrete top of the wall and to
‘construct a double driveway some distance
on the outside of the wall.
It is expected that the whole affair, in-
cluding the construction of the wall, the
filling behind the wall and the sidewalk
and driveway improvement, will cost $1,-
500,000. $
He Wanted Bare Facts.
There are two members of the Alfred
Moseley Commission who have ideas of
their own about American children. After
luncheon the other day several of the dis-
tinguished Englishmen were in the draw-
ing room with some of their friends. In
the group was a portly English gentle
woman whose crest bears a coronet. There
was also an American child, dressed by its
American mother according to her notion
of the latest English style. The hoy’s
plump little legs were bare to the knees
and a kilt covered his full kniokerbockers.
Perched on a high chair, little Reginald
bad his kilt pulled far over his knees.
‘‘Raise your kilt and let me see your
pretty little limbs,’’ remarked the portly
lady, with an amiable smile,
The boy, trained to obedience, stood up
and did as bid. Then, still holding his
kilt and eying the portly lady from head
to foot, he retorted :
‘‘Now, let’s see yours.’
Don’t Drive Her Home.
The lady bug is man’s friend and should
be protected. ‘‘With their little red wrap-
pers decorated with black polka dots, the
ladybugs are gay and attractive members of
the insect world,’’ says the Scientific
American, ‘They are always man’s friend,
and get most of their living by preying on
the destructive soft bodied plant lice, the
most common of which is the green aphis,
commonly found on house plants and rose
bushes. The larvae of the ladybug also
lives principally upon insects destructive to
garden and field crops.”