Dewsrralic, Waid
Bellefonte, Pa., April 5, 1929.
BREAD UPON THE WATERS.
Notwithstanding the fact that he
was forty and fat—that is, fat for
his kind, which is generally thin, as
becomes men whose youth has been
spent in the saddle, and despite the
further fact that he was unmarried
and had never been known to be in
love, Bill Garford was known
throughout the length and breadth of
the soverign State of Nevada as a
romantic figure.
Americans are given to crowning
with the halo of romance men who,
from lowly beginnings, have fought
their way to leadership in finance or
politics. Bill Garford was not aware
that he had ever extended himself in
the battle to win the unique position
he occupied. In fact, he never
thought about it at all and accepted,
as a matter unworthy of comment,
the fact that practically half the pop-
ulation of Nevada, which the last
census sets at 77,000 in round figures,
claimed with him, if not a close
friendship, at least a familiar ac-
quaintance.
Muckers in mines, swampers in
dance-halls, sheep-herders and mil-
lionaires quite naturally called him
Bill and borrowed money from him,
and were amazed and indignant if
he questioned their credit, which, by
the way, he seldom did. At least
never questioned the credit of those
who had no credit; as to the others, he
found it much simpler and more con-
ducive to the joy of existence to cut
a twenty-dollar “quick touch” to five
and promptly proceed to forget all
about it!
Bill Garford was the son of a cow-
man so unimportant that he could
afford no wages to Bill—hence at
fourteen the boy had left a lonely dis-
trict school to hire out as ler
with old man Starbuck's Diamond S
ranch at fifteen dollars a month. In
time he developed into a toprider,
whereupon he was advanced to forty
dollars a month and the confidence
of old man Starbuck, who consider-
ed that when Bill should get his
growth he might make a first-class
riding boss at sixty-five dollars a
month.
One day old man Starbuck and his
boys drove three thousand head of
three-year-olds down the railroad at
Winnemucca, and when the cars had
been loaded Bill Garford had manag-
ed to induce old man Starbuck to ad-
vance him a hundred dollars on ac-
count of a season's wages. The old
man didn't want to give it, but Bill
pleaded that he had to buy some
new blankets and overalls and some
heavy underwear and tobacco and
have a tooth pulled by a traveling
dentist then in Winnemucca.
So reluctantly old man Starbuck
gave him the money and forced from
him a promise that when his money
should have been dissipated in the
customary delights of his kind he was
to be a good boy and ride dutifully
back to headquarters. The boss was
a human old chan. He had been
young once himself.
In Winnemucca Bill had dallied
with the flesh-pots according to his
times and the company he kept. Hav-
ing no further use for money except
to spend it quickly and go home, he
tossed his last twenty-dollar bill on
the Double O of a roulette layout
in a house where the sky was the
limit. He accompanied his action
with the cryptic remark that
he supposed he might as well be
broke as the way he was, anyhow.
He won! A disbeliever from child-
hood in the frequency of miracles, he
gathered up seven hundred and forty
dollars and “went south” with it. His
horse was in a livery-stable and he
started for that stable, intending to
mount and ride back to soda biscuits,
fried beef, beans. black coffee and old
man Starbuck. But fate decreed oth-
erwise.
Half-way down to the livery-sta-
ble a coal-black cat started across the
street in front of him. This was
bad. He made a prodigious spurt
and, despite his high-heeled boots,
flanked that cat and forced pussy to
cross behind him. Half a block far-
ther he ran a nail through the worn
sole of his right boot and upon seek-
ing the nail discovered that it pro-
truded from a shoe formerly worn
by a mule. Mules have, fortunately,
long narrow hoofs, so young Mr. Gar-
ford experienced no difficulty in in-
sinuating this shoe in his rear over-
alls pocket, as a sort of luck piece.
He continued on and met a man
who owed him two dollars. Bill was
too proud and not quite cheap enough
to mention this fact to his debtor, al-
though the debt was five years old,
but to his surprise the other not only
mentioned it but paid Bill the two
dollars. For interest he offered to
buy Bill Garford a drink and as the
young man turned to approach the
nearest saloon he was gratified to ob-
serve the new moon over his left
shoulder.
“I'm smeared with luck,” he decia-
ed—and ordered a short beer. Then
he bought, the amenities thus having
been observed, he bade his
debtor good night and hastened back
to that gambling hall.
Not for him, however, the roulette-
wheel where his luck had first mani-
fested itself. In this game the per-
centage in favor of the house is much
too high and manotonous even for
persons imbued with the sublime
faith in their infallibility which was
Bill Garford’s portion this night.
Garford gravitated toward a faro
‘table in a distant corner and was for-
‘tunate enough to find a vacant seat.
No tyro, he, at faro. The bulk of
wages earned in six years riding the
range had gone to pay for Bill Gar-
ford’s education in thie fairest and
most fascinating of gambling games.
He bought a stsck of browns ard
played the limit. When he rose from
his seat about noon the follo day
he had the faro dealer's check for
twenty-thousand-odd dollars.
i In those days a man Kept his word,
even at the cost of considerable in-
convenience and personal sacrifice.
Bill Garford had promised old man
Starbuck he would return to head-
quarters, so to headquarters he re-
turned. He finished the rest of the
beef round-up with that twenty-thou-
sand-dollar check in his pocket, and
then, with the feeling that he was
playing a mean trick on Starbuck,
he asked for his time. The latter
was so shocked at the request that
Bill jumped to the conclusion it was
going to embarrass the old man to
have a sight-draft-drawn on him that
way, so he hastened to reassure him.
“Im just quittin,’ Mr. Starbuck,”
he explained. “I'm not askin’ for
my money. You send it to me when-
ever you can spare it an’ that'll be
0. k. with me.”
“You tarnation imbecile,” old man
Starbuck rasped, “what you aimin’
to do now? Have you figered the
probabilities o’ starvin’ to death once
you git off'n the Diamond S range?”
Bill said he had figured on it and
added the information that he plan-
ned to go into the sheep business.
Terribly scandalized, old man Star-
buck begged him not to think of it,
to remember his father, who although
an unimportant person, bovinely
speaking, had nevertheless managed
to stagger along to the end of a long
life without bringing disgrace upon
the cattle industry.
“I know just how you feel, Mr.
Starbuck,” Bill replied. “Nobody
hates sheep more’n I do, but still folks
eats mutton an’ if it wasn’t for sheep
I reckon you an’ I'd have to sport
overalls on Sunday an’ wear our
chaps to bed on winter nights. Sec
a sheep has her uses, Mr. Starbuck.”
“I'll be shot if I'll give you any
money to invest in sheep,’ old man
Starbuck stormed. “’Tain’t a kind-
ness for me to let you have your way,
even if you have got the money
comin’ to you.”
“Money ain't worryin’ me none, Mr.
Starbuck,” Bill replied, and mounting
his pony he rode sorrowfully from the
Diamond 8, while old man Starbuck
warned him, in torrid language,
against the advisability of permit-
ting himself to be caught with sheep
on the present speaker’s range.
The previous year had been a dry
one in California and the rainfall that
year had been approximately half of
normal. All of his life feed and its
availability had been the principal
subject of conversation wherever the
men of his world gathered, and Bill
Garford knew that two years of short
rainfall were spelling worry to Cali-
fornia cattle and sheepmen. So he
went down into California and pur-
chased, at three dollars a head, five
thousand ewes said to be in lamb.
Although distrusting sheepmen on
principle, he had to take their word
for this; and being a Simon-pure
cow-man he neglected to “mouth” his
ewes, with the result that the sheep-
men ran in about a thousand “gum-
mers” on him and another thousand
old ruins with bad feet and wrinkled
necks. When some well-meaning mar-
plot called Bill's attention to this he
merely smiled and stated that it had
to be a pretty poor sheep critter that
wasn’t worth three dollars.
' He shipped his sheep to Nevada.
A heavy snowfall on the upland des-
erts that winter had conduced to pro-
vide good herbage in the shape of the
nutritious bunch-grass that grows
around the stunted sage, so Bill Gar-
ford helped himself and inquired mot
into titles, although he did avoid the
Diamond S range out of respect to
old man Starbuck. He excused him-
self for his mendacity towards others
on the ground that all sheepmen are
natural grass thieves and no] €x-
pects anything better of them.
“Might as well have the game as the
name,” he decided.
He had an eighty percent crop of
lambs instead of the hundred and
twenty percent. he had been led to
believe he would receive, and when
the lush green grass had been crop-
ped low his old “gummers” failed to
thrive on the tender tips of the sage,
‘and gave up the unequal struggle al-
most to a sheep. His barren ewes
he sold at a profit, however, and his
lambs netted him nine dollars, so,
despite the errors of his initial trade,
he profited both in cash and exper-
ience.
He told himself that an education
‘wasn’t worth while anyhow unless
one paid for it. The next time he
bought ewes, however, he cast a
jaundiced eye on wrinkled necks and
bad feet; he looked into so many
sheeps’ mouths, seeking teeth that
weren't there, that for all his youth-
ful bhardihood he commenced to feel
like a sheepman!
In five years he had $100,000 in
cash and got out of the sheep busi-
ness for good. It was in his mind
now to buy a bunch of good feeders,
lease a ranch and get back into re-
spectable society again. But the cat-
tle business was in the doldrums, so
Bill drifted over to the new boom
mining-camp of Tonopah on the off-
chance that he might get aboard
something good there and take a
ride. Following a quiet prowl of
about a month he climed aboard Ton-
opah Extension, Tonopah Divide and
Lucky Strike and waited for his
stock to soar. When it had soared a
million dollars’ worth he unloaded—
and a month later occurred the panic
of 1907.
When on a train, traveling sales-
men never place their pocket-books
under their pillows when they retire
to rest. Experience has taught them
that they are heir to human frailty
and may leave the train without res-
urrecting the pocketbook ! So they
cache and pocketbook in one of their
‘socks and hide the sock under the
pillows, for while one may forget his
pocketbook the chances of forgetting
his socks are exceedingly remote.
Bill Garford’s faith in human na-
| ture had been shocked but not shat-
|
‘the Nevada banks
with two thousand dollars’ of his
money in it. Thereafter he never
trusted little country banks with his ;
main account, but carried that in the
largest and financially strongest bank
he knew of iu San Franisco. Con-
ntly when practically half of
a > crashed in the
panic, Bill Garford, like the astute
traveling salesman, had money in
his sock, so to speak, and took a year
off while the United* States of Amer-
ica adjusted its currency problems,
and did a most remarkable thing.
He engaged a tutor and started to
catch up on his neglected education!
By degrees he ceased to employ dou-
ble negatives and knew the reason
why they should be avoided in polite
society. He trained himself to sound
his g's and learned cube root and
square root and plane geometry and
could bound the peninsula of Yuca-
tan. He knew the capital of Florida
and became so enamored of word
analysis that he took another year
off to run words like manufacture to
their Latin liars—manu from manus,
the hand; facture from facere, fac-
tum, to make.
Manufacture therefore meant,
to make by hand—and Bill was deter-
mined, in the homely phraseology of
his frontier, “to make a hand” at
something better than sheep and
COWS.
He took a trip around the world
on the interest of his million-and-
odd dollars, qguarreled with the food,
grew homesick and returned to Ne-
vada in time to buy in the wreckage
of the Nevada State Bank with its
six branches. Ever since 1907 the
state banking commissioner had been |
trying to bury this corpse. Bill re-
vitalized it and with a million dollars’
capital became eventually what he
was on the day Uncle Jimmy Breeze
blew into his office—to wit, a roman-
tic figure.
However, a truce on Uncle Jimmy
for the present. The activities of
Bill Garford from 1910 to 1924 are
worthy of more minute presentation.
Albeit he had lifted himself by his
boot-straps and might be presumed
to have discarded boots for the con-
ventional foot-gear of bankers, some-
thing old-fashioned in Bill's make-up
forbade the total amputation of
things he had held dear in the days
of his youth.
He still wore boots with high heels,
under the legs of his trousers. And
they were handsome, hand-made
boots. And he still wore a soft, wide-
brimmed, gray felt hat and soft
shirts; when he traveled he felt more
comfortable if he carried a short-bar-
reled, heavy-caliber pistol in a shoul-
der holster under his left arm.
He was still interested to a remark-
able extent in grass, horses, the cat-
‘tle and sheep ‘market, mines and min-
ers; although he liked to make mon-
ey as a sporting proposition he had
little real appreciation of the value
of it. While the necessities of busi-
ness forced him to figure interest, in
his heart ‘of hearts Bill Garford look-
ed upon interest—that is, to a friend
—as a form of legalized extortion.
For a yellow dog Bill Garford
would do something. For a friend
he would go the limit. The tale is
told that when he had been establish-
ed as a banker some thirty days, old
man Starbuck came creaking into his
office, sat down uninvited, and talk-
ed grass and Teeders and cattle
thieves and beef prospects until noon,
when Bill took the old man home to
luncheon.
Just about the time the bank clos-
ed old man Starbuck gathered his
courage in hand and confessed that
he'd like to hawe a little accommo-
dation. The fact that he had not
hitherto had an account with Bill's
bank offered no bar to Bill's consid- |
eration of the lean. He said:
“Well, I imagine we can acocommo-
date you, Mr. Starbuck. How much
do you require ?” /
“About two hundred thousand,
Bill,” said old man Starbuck without
the flicker of an eyelash. “Want to
buy the old Dabney ranch. It’s been
foreclosed on mortgage an’ I can git
it for the principal of the mortgage.
Mebbe I can get it for a little less than
the principal of the loan. It adjoins
my present holdings.” i
“I know the Dabney ranch,” Bill
responded prompily. “TH let you
have the money.”
“Thanks, Bill. I reckoned you
would,” said old man Starbuck. _
Bill summoned his cashier. “Let
Mr. Starbuck have two hundred
thousand dollars, for five years, at
seven per cent.—no, let him have it
for six. He's an old friend of mine.
I used to punch cattle for him.”
“I'm sorry, Mr. Garford,” the cash-
ier answered, “but we can’t let Mr.
Starbuck have the money.”
Bill Garford’s eyes narrowed.
guess this is my bank, isn’t it?”
“Certainly, but the state banking
commissioner has som to say
about it also. Under the law you
cannot lend any individual that
amount on your present paid-up eapi-
tal stock. The amount of your paid-
up capital stock limits the loan to
Mr. Starbuck to one hundred thou-
“1
‘sand dollars.”
Bill and old man Starbuck looked
at each other. “Bill, this is sure a
blow to me,” the old man declared.
“I'd figgered for certain I was goin’
to git that money.”
“You'll get it, Mr. Starbuck. The
bank will lend you a hundred thou- |
‘sand and I'll led you another hun- |
j dred thousand personally.”
.ranch and forthwith gave Bill a check |
banking
Old man Starbuck secured the loan
with a first on the Dabney
wages for upwards of ten years.
In those fourteen years—1910 to
1924—Bill developed into that which
he has already been declared, to wit,
a romantic character. The oro: |
banker in the world, yet he
to build up his banks and waxed rich;
wherefore he was accused of being a
wizard. He dabbled in
shrewd cattle deals, in sheep deals,
for the money he had owed him for}
tered during the five years that had |in ranches, in mining properties.
elapsed since old man Starbuck had
ceased to ride herd on His destinies.
About half this time he spent in
the main bank in Reno; the other
He had met some very low sheep- | half was spent wandering over the
men and once a bank had collapsed - State, of whose resources and possi-
‘money in your banks
ee EA ET rn a NT EEE
bilities he had more definite and ex-
act knowledge than any man in it.
He knew the catle and sheepmen’s
problems and . sympathized with
them; if they were on the square, if
they knew their business, if they
weren't quitters, he would go far to
favor them. People declared that
luck was with Bill Garford because
he deserved to be lucky; that he was
a human being and the best fellow
on earth.
In 1924 he motored over to the
Dabney ranch to ascertain why old
man Starbuck was three years behind
with his interest—and there he met
old man Starbuck’s daughter, Olive,
more familiarly known as Ollie. Bill
was just turned forty and Ollie was
twenty-four and fair to look at. So
Bill went back and paid his own
bank, out of his own account, the in-
terest old man Starbuck owed on his
ancient loan Also, he decided that
since he would have to take the old
Dabney ranch over for the loan soon-
er or later, it might not be a bad idea
to take Ollie over with it! There
was but sixteen years’ difference be-
tween their respective ages.
Bill looked at himself long and
earnestly in a pier-glass, decided he
didn’t look a day over thirty-five and
commenced to diet. When he had
taken off thirty pounds acquired as a
banker he was as lean and youthful
as in the days when old man Star-
buck considered he might make a
first-class riding boss—whereupon he
made another call on the old gentle-
man.
appearance, played the cottage organ
for him and baked him an apple pie.
He broke all the speed laws in the
State on that three-hundred-mile
drag back to Reno, because he was
in a hurry to clean up a lot of ne-
glected banking busiess and pay an-
other visit to the Starbucks. He had
stated that he would have business in |
that vicinity in about three weeks
and might drop in on them. When
three months passed and he had not
put in an appeartnce, Ollie, who had
inherited some of her father’s reso-
lution, drove the old man’s shabby
old roadster into Reno and casually
called at the bank to reproach Bill
for his neglect. Unfortunately, Bill
was down in San Francisco, but his
secretary told Ollie she would tell him
who had called.
When Bill Garford returned to
Reno and learned what he had miss-
ed he put his head down on his desk
and closed his eyes in pain. So Ollie
had grown tired waiting Zor him to
call and had called on him instead. :
Well, it was too late now***Yes, too
late. If she ever wanted to see him
again she would have to drive onto
Carson City, where the State peni-
tentiary is!
He was roused from his sad reverie
by the advent of the superintendent
of banks, who entered uninvited and
sat down opposite Bill.
ly Bill shoved a humidor toward him;
when the official had lighted his cigar
he put his feet upon Bill's solid Amer-
ican-walnut table and for a long time
stared out the window. Bill said
nothing. He was drawing a subtle
comfort from the othér's silence.
“Well, Bill,” the latter said pres-
ently, “I wired you to come home mn
a hurry. Do you know that your
bank’s capital is badly impaired ?”
“No, I didn’t. And what's more
it isn’t” :
“According to your records you are
right. Your books are straight
enough and I've counted the cash
you're supposed to have on hand and
it’s all there. There hasn’t been any
crooked work. No reflection on your
integrity, Bill’—the vision of Car-
son City penitentiary faded abruptly
from Bill's mind—* but a lot on your
ahility as a banker.”
“How come?”
“You're loaded up with frozen as-
sets in the shape of pretty full loans
on cattle ranches and cattle; the cat-
tlemen all over the country are broke
and the bank will have to foreclose to
protect its stockholders.
“I'm the stockholders and I ain’t—
I'm not—yelling so’s anybody can
hear me, am I?
my dummy directors
holler? I pay
don’t I?”
“A good many other banks are
foreclosing on ranches—and when
this foreclosing business is finished.
ranches in this State, as in other cat-
tle States, are going to be mighty
cheap. You see that, do you not,
Bill?” he asked.
“It sounds reasonable,” Bill Gar-
ford admitted. “I know the cattle
business has taken an awful licking
the past five years, but I've got faith
in it still if it’s handled right. It's
bound to come back. That’s why T've
been easy with cattle loans. When a
fellow’s been a cow-man he can’t help
sympathizing with & cow-man who
has played the game fairly and is
down and out through no-fault of
his own. I'm a hard hombre to stam-
pede where by friends are concerned.”
The superintendent of banks look-
ed at him with affectionable interest.
“God made only one Bill Garford and
then He broke the mold,” he thought.
Then aloud:
“Bill, I'm a hard hombre to stam-
pede where my friends are concerned,
but—I have a lot of friends with
and it's my
duty to protect them. You're ca
to put up a
‘em good salaries,
' open notes, unsecured, that can never
be collected. You're carrying secured
notes with the security worth thirty
percent of the loan; you're carrying
notes secured by mortgage on real
estate—and the real estate is yours
for the asking and you won't ask for
it because you know you can’t sell it
and you're afraid of the taxes. Bill,
you've got to put your house in order
In fact, while you were awey I put
it in order for you. When I finished I
found your bank's capital was im-
paired to the tune of about two mil-
lion dollars—and unless you get that
two millions into your reserve mighty
soon I'll have to shut you up—all
seven of you.”
“But that'll make a crook out of
me in the eyes of the public—and my
friends. Every depositor I've got, al-
most, is a friend of mine.”
“The trouble with you, Bill, is that
you set altogether too high a value on
Ollie remarked his improved |
Mechanical-
What right have |
ADEN FAA RT Rat ne ERR,
that negligible human emotion known
as friendship. It's a good deal like
gratitude, which some fellow once
described as a-lively appreciation - of
favors still to come.
» “Bill, you're a romantic figure in the
‘social, political and economic life of
this thinly populated state. It is
still a frontier state and you are still
a frontiersman—thinking straight,
talking straight, acting straight.
You've never been mean or small or
unkind or unsympathetic. You have
hundreds of babies named after you.
“You've grub staked more addle-
brained old idots who think they're
prospectors than all the other rich
men in this state combined. You've
settled more quarrels out of court
than most lawyers. Why, even blank--
faced Washoes and Piute bucks smile
when you hail them—and squaws call
you Bill. Stray dogs come into your
bank to say howdy.” The official rose
and stretched forth helpless hands.
“Bill, you tender-hearted idiot, I love
you like a brother, but unless you can
dig up two million dollars to make
your depositors safe, I've got to
smash the biggest, finest, simplest,
truest gentleman in a state where
they still continue to breed men. And
the bigger they are the harder they
fall.”
And quite unexpectedly the man
sat down and commenced to weep
like a lubberly boy.
When he could master his emotions
he looked at Bill Garford and said:
, “Well, William, what’s the verdict ?”
“I haven't any more two million
dollars in cash than a jack-rabbit !”
the honest Bill replied without a split
second’s hesitation. “I've been stay-
ing with the baggage, and all of my
private fortune is sort of out on in-
interest among my cow friends and
some fair-to-middling sheepmen.”
“Do you collect the interest ?”
“Well, not lately, I must confess.”
“Been pressing them for it?”
“Yes, I have. More than usual. I
have to do it by correspondence,
though. I've given up calling in per-
son, because then they lick me. Make
me feel like I owed them money in-
stead of the other way round.”
“Some time back when I pressed
you on that Starbuck loan, you got
the money from the old man. Does
he owe you anything personally ?”
“I didn’t get the money from him.
I just paid his loan and took a chattel
mortgage on his cattle to cover the
advance. He owes me about a quar-
of a million now—interest and princi-
pal.”
he'd never pay a note he could renew
by paying the interest. He's got
about twelve thousand head of good
cattle that ought to bring a fair
price now, if they're fat—and I am
informed they are. By and large, the
lot ought to average thirty dollars a
head, even on this sorry market.”
“But if I close in on old man Star-
buck and take his cows,” Bill protest-
ed, “he’d be out of business for fair.
I can’t ruin him at his age.” He
thought despairingly of Ollie !
“Then he'll ruin you, Bill. Let’s see
what else you've got that can be sold
or hocked in a hurry.”
‘They went over 'the list of Bill's
private assests and when the task
had been completed the bank examin-
er knew that nothing stood between
Bill Garford and a mililon dollars in
quick money except a lot of old-fash-
|ioned sentiment and a soft heart. He
decided to force issue.
creditors and simultaneously have the
bank close in on its creditors, that
two mililon dollars can be in your
, reserve fund in ninety days,” he de-
cided. “If you'll get busy at once I'll
play the game with you.”
{ “And if I do not,” Bill quavered—
for the first time in all his forty
years.
i The bank examiner drew his fing-
er across his throat and gurgled
ominously.
{ “You mean that 2?”
“Surest thing you know. Myself,
I never did like the board and lodging
‘at Carson City.”
It was Bill Garford’s turn now. He
‘commenced to weep silently and spar-
ingly. His great heart was broken.
“You're the biggest fool and the
worst banker I've ever examined !”
dreadful scene.
In about an hour Bill Garford’s sec-
retary came in. “There’s an old pros-
| pector outside and he wants to see
iyou, Mr. Garford,” she announced.
“He says you'll remember him right
well. His pame is Uncle Jimmy
Breeze.”
| “Did you tell him I was awfully
busy? I'm ‘fraid Uncle Jimmy wants
!a grub-stake.”
“Yes,” her employer sighed, “and if
I don’t see him today he'll be back to-
morrow and every other day until he
gets what he’s after. Send him in and
I'll get it over with.”
‘Miss Ollie Starbuck is also wait-
ing to see you. She arrived before
Uncle Jimmy Breeze.”
“Oh, side-hill gougers and great
snarling cctawampuses — I mean
catawampi !” He looked so desper-
ately pathetic the secretary's heart
went out to him.
“I can get rid of her,” she suggest-
ed.
“Yes, I know, but I can’t. I'll pull
myself together. Send Miss Starbuck
in in five minutes.”
He was Bill Garford again when Ol-
lie entered. “Welcome, Miss Ollie,”
he said. (“Won't you set—I mean
sit?”
Mss Ollie sank into the chair he in-
dicated. She was a direct creature,
least he says it’s that, but I have con-
fidential information from the ridi
ends with him.”
“When a man gets past sixty he
ought to leave that to boys, Miss
Ollie. Was there something you want-
de me to do for him— or for you?”
“Thank you, Mr. Garford. You an-
ticipate things sc promptly you re-
duce my embarrassment to less than
about three thousand two-year old
“Well, the old man’s square, but
“If you close in on your personal *
| the other shouted, and fled from the
4
i passed out the note.
like her father, and came at once to.
the milk in the cocoanut. “Dad's down .
with rheumatism,” she confided, “At | 100king at each other, mildly amused
‘now but a bit pathetic just the same.
steers that are fat enough for mark-
et right now, but the price is only five
cents: and he thought “it: would be’
much more to his advantage to hold
them over until spring and put about
two hundred pounds additional on
them. He thinks that sort of stuff
might bring eight cents then. But
he'll have to buy about a thousand
tons of extra hay to carry them
through the winter and he asked me
to run oyer and see if you'll let him
have seven thousand dollars to buy
the hay. i
Bil Garford’s face froze in a
horror. As Ollie had been
he had sensed the touch
mouth had gradually sagged
while his eyes dilated. Both
is, all three of these organs no
mained immovable, while his usually
ruddy, bronzed countenance com-
menced slowly to assume the ripe:
color tones of an ancient cheese.
. Ollie Starbuck’s face flushed and
then paled as she looked at him. “Oh,
Mr. Garford,” she cried, “is there
anything the matter with you? Are
you ill? Can I get you something—"
He shook off his creeping paralysis:
and raised a protesting hand. I
haven't seen a great deal of you--
not half enough to warrant my pre-
sumption in addressing you by your
first name —but the fact is I only had:
to see you once to love you and every
time I've seen you since my tempera-
ture has jumped a degree. Just now
it’s at the boiling point. You hear
me? Ilove you. I'd do anything for
You. Do you believe that?
Ollie’'s sweet face softened, her
brown glances sought the rug. “I—I
well, it did occur to me that you:
might be more interested in calling at.
the ranch to see me than to see Fath-
er. Father thought so, too. He said:
you were up to something and I'm
glad you were—Bill. The whole state-
loves you so I'm sure I can’t be blam-
ed for following suit.”
He leaned across the table, took.
her brown, firm hand in both of his:
great hands and kissed it tenderly.
Then he said, quite firmly and dis-.
tinctly: “Ollie, Sweeheart, old J. B.
Starbuck hasn’t any more credit with.
the Nevada State Bank than a road-
runner. Heney, a banker is talking:
to you now—and a banker has so
many folks to think about that he-
can't play favorites. You understand,
don’t you Ollie 2”
Ollie bowed her head gravely. “I.
don’t care to listen to the banker
Bill,” she answered. “I'd rather hear-
the man.”
“The man has no money to lend:
your father—and a little while ago
the banker whispered to the man to.
tell you to tell your father to sell
those three thousand two-year-olds at.
the market and bring me the money,.
P. D. Q. The conditions are such that
time and extra hay are topics we:
can’t discuss. Realizing that I love-
You and want you worse than I want
salvation, and that you love me and;
would marry me in a pig’s whisper, it
becomes my horrible duty to tell you.
that I'm going to bust the tribe of
Starbuck high, wide and handsome.
Yes, Ollie, I've got to close in on you.
folks. I've got to ruin. old J. B.—
smash him, rub his.nose in the dirt.
—old as he is and square as he is and.
big a fool as he is. riding a disre--
spectful cayuse at his age. When I
take over his range and his COWS, cin.
I take the Starbuck family over also,
and care for you both the rest of:
, your days?”
She shook her head. slowly, thereby:
scattering tears over a wide area on.
the polished top of his solid: American:
walnut table. She was like. old man,
Starbuck—resolute and independent..
“No, we're not yet ready to.acce) pti
charity, Mr. Garford,” she said final-
ly. “Close us out if it’s business, but
don’t mix sentiment with your busi-
ness.”
, “If you only knew how much sen--
timent I'm mixing with my business:
you wouldn't call me Mr. Garford,
when I'm plain Bill to you,” he plead:-
ed. “I'm closing in on a whole re--
muda of cattle and sheepmen, start--
ing today. Im on the round-up. again:
and your father is in the corral: and!
.cant escape branding and earmark-
ing. Ive got to do it or my banks willl
close their doors and windows,and or-
_phans will curse me from here to the:
t Utah line.”
“You'don’t have to brand and ear-
mark the Starbucks, Bill. We'll con--
tinue to be mavericks, if you please..
J know my father well enough to:
, Speak with his authority now. Those
three thousand steers are yours and!
whether you sell them or elect to buy
hay for them and carry them: through
till spring is your affair, mot ours.
You don’t have to close in on us, Bill.
You've been a mighty good friend
while you could afford it and now
.that you can no longer afford it we're
,Smart enough to understand. You
can have the remainder of the cows
and a deed to the ranch whenever
‘you send for either.” She smiled wan--
ly. “We've never been sued, youu
know.”
| “I'll send for that deed and those-
cows when I have to and not a second!
Sooner, Ollie. Meanwhile, I
we'll carry those steers until
think
s v
{Pe not say anything to Pe 4
I
thousand dollars,”
“Did you bring his note with you, Miss :
Starbuck? J. B. had a stock of the .
about this. He’s old and he needs his:
sleep.” He pressed the button on his:
desk and the cashier came inn.
“J. B. Starbuck is good for seven.
ke announced
bank's note forms on hand in case
he ever gets caught short.”
Her eyes wide with wonder, Ollie
The cashier fa-
vored Bill Garford with a severe look
and departed, leaving Bill’ and Ollis-
“Come here, Bill Garford,” the girl"
boss to the effect that my lunatic par- ' commanded presently, and * while he
ent tried to bust a colt that swapped | Was coming to her around ' the table,
she pulled down the shade. Then she
took his leonine head in both arms:
and pulled his face against hers.
“You're not licked, Darling,” she-
whispered. “Tell me you're not.”
“I'm licked, Ollie. But—they -
haven't counted ten over me—yet.”
“Well, when they've finished count-
one-half of ome percent. Dad has ing Bill, and you don't know where -
(Continued on page<7, Col. 1.)