David Lannarck, Midget

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"Mrs. Gillis." Davy was the one now affected by the recitals. His
voice was lower and slower. "Mrs. Gillis, after reading that message,
I hadn't the tears out of my eyes nor my voice cleared up, until I was
making that will. Gaynor did the work, he knew how, that was his
business, and he made it read just as Mrs. Lannarck had requested. The
Trust Department of the bank was made the trustee. One-half of all
income from my estate was to be paid to the church, the other half for
orphanage entertainment. It stands just that way yet, although the
value of the estate has doubled.

"The Lannarck estate was what the bank folks called Income Property.
It included two suburban store rooms with apartments above. There were
three very good residences, five shares of bank stock, bonds and notes
and a considerable bank deposit. I made a resolution then and there,
that I would never touch a penny of it, and that resolution has been
kept. The income has piled up until it now nearly equals the
principal. Poor old Gaynor, the next-best friend I ever had, keeps the
income collected and invested, and if this depression would only let
up and give him a chance, he could build those Presbyterians a new
church and give the orphans a picture show every night.

"Of course I've earned quite a lot of money, meanwhile, but Gaynor
keeps that as a separate checking account; says circuses and
vaudeville are not a dependable source of income and that I may go
broke. This Ralph Gaynor is a wonder in his line, but it's not my kind
of a line. He talks of interest, margins of safety, of unearned
increments, corporate earnings, and things like that. His is not the
big bank, with its long rows of figures. His is just a little
'Dollar-Down' concern, and he owns it all. Just now, in this
depression, the Big Fellows are running to him asking, 'What to do?'
And he's telling 'em to trim sails and stay close to shore.

"Ralph Gaynor is the second helpful man to come into my life, but when
I grew sick and tired of being gawked at, during all my waking hours
and resolved to duck away from the mob, I didn't go back to Ralph
Gaynor for advice. He just wouldn't understand. The word 'recreation'
is not in his vocabulary. Colts, dogs, kid-saddles, horseback riding,
Landy's wisecracks, and my present-day joys have no listed values with
Ralph Gaynor, and I passed him up. If it were Mrs. Lannarck, she would
understand and give it sympathetic approval.

"Well, that's something of the life story of one midget, Mrs. Gillis.
Add to this, twelve long summers with circuses and the winters spent
in vaudeville (both with their mobs and gawking crowds) and it's
almost a completed volume. There is yet one chapter to be added and I
want to talk about it to the public. One man, Baron Singer, did more
for midgets--little people--than any other person, in all time. He
lifted them out of the mediocre; gave them standing and personality.
I never met the Baron, but I want the public to know what great work
he did for an underprivileged group. And I will tell 'em Saturday
night."

9

Gillis and Welborn did not return from their mission the next day as
they had planned. Sunday passed by without word of their whereabouts.
The stay-at-homes wondered if it was to be peace or war with maudling
gangsters. Did Welborn's fifty-to-one chance fail? Davy had planned to
ride over to the B-line, and go over his speech-plans with his manager
and promoter. Now, it seemed necessary that he and Landy ride down to
the filling station seeking news of the missing ones. Monday noon, the
faithful old Gillis car labored up the hill and came to a stop. Jim
and Sam got out to inquire if dinner was ready.

Little was said during the meal as to the outcome of their trip. Jim
made a brief explanation that they had been as far as Rawlins,
accompanying the sheriff in his disposition of his boarders. The
sheriff explained that he wanted to take them past the penitentiary to
show them what they missed, and where they would live if they ever
came back to this section. He took them all to the railway station,
loaded two on the east-bound train and two went west. The sheriff
retained the count's car as security for advances made.

That evening, however, after Davy had returned from delivering Welborn
his supper, the four gathered in the Gillis sitting room and Jim gave
more details. "This man Welborn musta been in the army," he declared.
"Musta been a tough old top sergeant, er the general in command, the
way he took charge. He managed every detail and managed it right.
Everything worked out as planned.

"We kept old Maddy out of the judge's sight, 'en it was well enough
that we did, for Judge Withers was pretty hostile towards these crazy
galoots that invaded the community and disturbed the peace. He would
enforce the sentence, but he listened to the sheriff's complaint that
four such prisoners were too many for his cramped quarters, too costly
for the results obtained. The judge agreed to suspend sentence on
condition that the sheriff would deport 'em and keep 'em deported.

"We didn't have any trouble establishing Maddy's claim to the two
sacks of dust. Maddy easily identified 'em and I knew they were his,
but what about these gangsters? Would the count surrender title to the
damaged car to compensate for rail transportation? And would they
agree to leave and never come back? The sheriff had had several
interviews with 'em on these matters and had never gained assent to
the plan, especially as to the count and his car. The sheriff was
bothered, didn't believe it could be done.

"Again it was Welborn who made the plan and gave orders. 'Bring that
count in here,' he said, 'and leave me alone with him for about ten
minutes. I'll find out if he wants to live or die.' And the sheriff
did as Welborn said, and before the ten minutes were up, the count had
readily and eagerly accepted all the conditions. We took all of 'em
over to court, the judge repeated the sentence, suspended it if they
stayed out of the court's jurisdiction. We had 'em in Rawlins and on
their way by Sunday noon.

"No, I don't know what Welborn said to the count," was Jim's reply to
Davy's eager question. "It must have been potent and terrifying, the
way that gangster wet his lips and swollered."

"Did young Goff accept Maddy's gift of the gold dust?" Jim laughed.
"That's another Welborn plan and order and it wasn't ignored. This
young Goff is a fine fellow. He took good care of Maddy during the
whole trip. When we got back to the filling station and Goff was to go
on his way, Maddy offered him the dust and he refused it. Here
Welborn stepped in. He shook a little out of one sack to make 'em
equal; he handed one sack to Mrs. Carter and placed the other in
Goff's car. 'You keep that,' he ordered. 'This old man will live
longer, happier, more contented in knowing he has a neighbor that he
can freely call on for help who will respond to his call. He's got a
right to this comfort and satisfaction. You take it.' And young Goff
took it."

The next morning David Lannarck was up bright and early, intent on his
plans to visit the B-line ranch, but Mrs. Gillis had beat him to the
draw. Landy was directed to change the stock cattle over into the
ravine pasture while Jim did the milking. Davy would take Welborn's
breakfast to him and wait at the Point until Landy, and the dogs, had
finished their job.

Like the rest of the men folk at the Gillis ranch, Davy accepted his
orders. He saddled the colt, maneuvered him up to the kitchen door for
the basket of breakfast, and rode to the Point alone. Early as it was,
he found Welborn up the ravine examining the gravel in a sheltered
nook.

"I can work this area this winter, when the rest of the valley is
covered with snow," Welborn explained as they walked back to the cabin
and the basket of breakfast.

"Yes, and if you had a dynamo and electric lights," retorted Davy,
"you could work nights. What's all the rush? This stuff will keep."

Welborn laughed, but he grew serious to explain: "I would like to take
nine thousand dollars out of this hole by early spring, and as near as
I estimate values, I've got the job about half done. There's nearly
two hundred ounces in those little sacks. If my partner will be
lenient in demanding his share, I think I can get it done this
winter."

"If I advance the nine thousand right now, say by the end of the week,
will you let up on this drive-drive-drive stuff, and relax and be
yourself?" Davy's question was a demand, earnestly stated.

Welborn gave an inquiring look to see if he was being scolded or
kidded. He decided that it was neither of these. "Why would you want
to do that, Laddie?" he asked in a subdued tone.

"Just to keep a good man from worrying himself to death," retorted the
midget. "I want to prevent a funeral, make an asset out of a
liability. I want to get a big, fine man back to his normal self. If
you will agree to let up on this push-drive-urge stuff; stop long
enough to read a book, to laugh at Jiggs or Popeye or Dagwood, or any
of the other funnies, go with me over to Adot where the mine-run folks
can see what a big, fine upstanding partner I've got, why I'll have
that little, old nine thousand in here by Saturday.

"Oh, I know that money is scarce, hard to get just now," Davy
explained in response to Welborn's shake of the head, "but this money
is idle, and there's plenty of security up in that ravine. It's not
the loan, it's the results, I'm wanting. Of course, there's something
eating you, some past catastrophe or mistake, that's got you down.
You're worried, killing yourself trying to get it corrected. I don't
know what it is, and don't want to know, until you are ready. Of
course it will work out all right. There'll be a climax, a denouement,
as old director Mecklin used to call the final act, and I want you to
be right here, in person, in good health and spirits, to join with the
rest of us in the applause and cheers."

Welborn had walked over to the window, but not to look out. His head
was down, he was taking punishment. Presently he lifted his shoulders
and head. There was a smile on his face even if his voice was husky.
"In all my varied years, Sonny Boy, I never heard finer compliments
mixed up with some real truths. What you've said is worth more to me
than your kindly offer of funds. I wouldn't take your money under any
condition, it would add complications, but I am going to take your
advice. From now on, I'll try to do as you say, try to save myself for
the glorious finish that you picture."

The arrival of Jim in the old car and Landy's clamorous calls broke up
the conference. Davy hurried out to join his friend in their planned
trip to the B-line ranch. He was very quiet in the hazards of Brushy
Fork, but on arriving at the level stretch beyond he stopped Landy.
"What am I going to name this colt, Landy? He's got to have a name, if
he's to be taught to do things. Old Boss Fletcher had a name for every
elephant in the herd, and they would step right out when their names
were called. Horses, dogs, elephants, even the cats quickly learned
their names and the short words like 'halt,' 'go,' 'kneel,' 'turn,'
and the like. This colt is smart, wants to do things, if you're not
too dumb in telling him what you want. But he's got to have a name."

"Alice and I were talkin' about that the other night," replied the ex
cow-hand. "She had some flossy ones: Emperor, Commander, President, en
sich, but I vetoed that trash, the colt couldn't carry 'em and live. I
suggested Red, er Monty, er some sich. Thar we adjourned and left the
colt without a moniker. What's yer notion of a name fer this little
hoss?"

"I just can't think of the right one," said Davy resignedly. "It
wouldn't do to name him after some of the folks around here, that
would mix things up. The circus folks have worn out such names as
Barnum, Ringling, Robinson, Bailey, Coles, Sells, Barnes, Wallace, and
others and they don't fit a small hoss anyhow. I am in hopes that this
fine, smart Adine girl at the B-line has some sort of a suggestion.
Maybe, she's got a name that will do."

At a favorable place on the narrow road where the travelers could gaze
down on a bunch of the B-line cattle quietly grazing and where the
morning sun splashed varied colors on the distant hills, Davy pushed
his mount in front of old Gravy to halt the party. He flung his hand
in a wide sweep to include everything in sight.

"That's Paradise, Landy. It's what I've dreamed about for the last ten
years. It's the wide open spaces filled with all the variations in old
Nature's book of scenery. And best of all, there's no mob of nit-wits
to titter and smirk. It's my Heaven.

"Just now, two things blur the picture; I want to get this speech
thing off my hands, and I want to find a resister, a sass-back, a
contrary cuss, that will argue back at me. I want to keep him nearby
to remind me of old times. Why back two years ago, I used to visit old
Polo Garrett, who had the concession in the menagerie tent, just to
get cussed out. Polo's vocabulary was limited to sassing back. 'What's
eatin' ya?,' 'Git outa here,' 'Who's a-running this dump?' 'Whar do ya
git that stuff?' were his mildest phrases. When I got fed up on a
bunch of simpering women and their, 'ain't he cute?' stuff, all I had
to do was to barge in on Polo and get cussed out and learn that the
world wasn't all gush and guff.

"And particularly I need this 'argufyer' right out here now. I'm
getting tired of having my own way. The people are too kind, too
considerate, regard me as a child to be petted and pampered. There's
too much mushy sentiment. A day or two ago, I told Mrs. Gillis my life
history. It was mushy and without climax. She wanted to cry over it.
This morning, before you came to the Point, I gave Welborn a big going
over about his working all the time. And he never sassed back. He
should have kicked me out. Instead of that, he agreed with me. Him, a
big, strong man that had made a gangster eat his gun and ordered the
judge and sheriff what to do! The idea! Him letting a midget order him
around! What we need here is a good cusser-outer."

"You're too late," said Landy dryly. "You've missed yer appointment by
about forty years. We had a party up state wunst, that filled all yer
requirements. Hit was a woman. She'd fuss at the sun fer comin' up, an
cuss hit fer goin' down. She buried three husbands en was deserted by
several more. At her death, en in honor of the happy event, they named
a little crick after her. They called hit Crazy Woman's Crick.... Hi,
Potter," Landy called, as they approached the stables of the B-line
ranch. "Git that gate opened and throw out yer welcome rug."

"Troubles never come single, they come in bunches," grumbled Potter as
he complied. "Two hosses go lame this mornin', en Jim Finch, the
grazing commissioner, comes from up on the Mad Trapper Fork a-callin'
on us fer help to round up some of old Hull Barrow's misfits of horns,
hoofs, and hides, en to add further miseries, here you arrive on the
scene. Why, Peaches gave out strict orders, that if old Turkeyneck
came prowlin' around, to say, that she wasn't at home at all en to
tell the little gent to ride right into the house."

"Who said that?" demanded Davy, with alacrity.

"Why, Peaches, Miss Adine, she said if old Landy--"

"Ye, Ho!" yelled Davy excitedly. "This colt is named. That's it!
Peaches! Why didn't we think of that before, Landy?" Davy patted the
colt's neck affectionately. "That's your name, old boy, Peaches!"

Hearing the outcry, Adine Lough came out of the house, and down the
graveled way. "Good morning," she called. "I was expecting you. My,
but he's handsome," she exclaimed, examining the little horse that
arched his neck in approval of the inspection. "You look like a
gallant cavalier out of the old picture books."

"We've just named him," said Davy proudly. "We named him after you.
His name is Peaches."

"Ah, pshaw," said the girl, laughing and blushing. "That's just a
nickname that these men out here call me behind my back, of course,
and the poor colt deserves a better fate. But come in, both of you, I
have good news." The girl led the way into the hall. "You go in and
visit with grandpa, Landy, while we talk shop in the library.

"I talked with the Nazarene preacher and he's very enthusiastic over
the plan and prospects," Adine explained after they were settled in
the workshop. "I told him of the ad, that I was to run in the paper
and he's somewhat of an artist and is putting up signs all over town.
It augurs a good crowd, the biggest ever to assemble in Adot. He plays
an accordion and his wife sings and they have arranged for a quartette
of girls to sing a couple of numbers and then you are to talk. The
meeting is to be held in Joe Burns's big warehouse and it won't hold
the people. Now this is not a church meeting, it's an entertainment.
You can laugh and applaud at will. You can tell funny stories about
circuses or what-have-you, it's informal, go as far as you like!"

"Well, here's how I had mapped out the talk. I'll tell 'em something
about midgets," said Davy, "for midgets seem to be a forgotten subject
in literature. If you will comb your college library down at Boulder,
you'll not find a single book on the subject, and I am not sure that I
know enough about 'em to fill out a talk on the subject."

"That's the very subject you ought to talk on. Why I can hardly wait
to hear it. Who better can tell it? If you are short of facts, just
romance a little, that's allowable where facts are scarce. Tell 'em
personal incidents and don't make 'em too solemn or pathetic. Make 'em
laugh. Personally, I'm going to get a close-up seat, for in that big
barn of a place I doubt if you can reach the outer fringes."

"Well, if the preacher gent can make himself heard, I can too,"
retorted Davy. "I practiced up on that stuff, there's where I
specialized. You see, Miss Adine, when I joined up with the Singer
Midgets at Saint Louis, I didn't have an act, a specialty, anything to
give the public. I just joined up because Baron Singer was collecting
midgets, showing 'em a good time, with no thought of making a profit.
But it did make profit. The public wanted to see midgets.

"It was my first contact with my clan. I noticed that midgets didn't
change their voices when they reached maturity, still spoke in
childish tones. Not having much to do, I practiced voice culture,
deepened and strengthened my speech. I made my voice reach to the back
seats. It earned me a job. I became the announcer; made the
in-front-of-the-curtain talks. In the summer, with the Big Top, I
often simulated the ringmaster to make announcements from the center
ring. It was a feature all right, seeing a little guy doing a big
man's job.

"Oh I'll make 'em hear all right, but what they are to hear is the
problem. To the midget stuff I thought I would add a few paragraphs
about circus people, the different kinds and what they do. The general
public never contacts the real circus people, just the ticket takers,
ushers, and roustabouts. They never meet the managers and performers.
And because grafters, shilabers, and skin-game artists follow
circuses, the public thinks these are a part of it. It's only fair to
circus people that this connection be denied."

"Why, I didn't know that," exclaimed Adine, "I just supposed the
grafters were a part of it. Here I am, learning a lot of things and
school not yet started. Anyhow, I'm going to buy a ticket for Mrs.
Carmody and inveigle her to the entertainment. She said circus people
ought not be allowed to participate in a church benefit.

"Now you are to come over here Saturday morning. Bring Landy with you,
as we can all three ride to Adot in my roadster. There, we will lay
the top back, and with you between us, sitting up on the back cushion,
we'll parade the town. The door opens at seven o'clock. Performance
begins at seven-thirty. Then we come back here for the night and you
can ride home Sunday morning. You can talk for an hour if you want to,
but you should speak for thirty minutes at least."

10

"Are you going to live here always?" asked Davy as he slid down off
the dictionary and chair at the end of the conference. "What I mean is
this, Adine," he added, noting the girl's questioning look. "Are you
going to spend your life out here in the sticks, with cattle, horses,
and a few yokels that you have to ride miles and miles, before you see
two of 'em together?"

"Why, this is my home, I belong here, the same as other young people
live with their folks," replied the girl, somewhat startled by the
abruptness of the question. "I haven't planned to shift pastures, as
grandaddy would say. Why are you asking such an abrupt, personal
question?"

"Well, it is sorta personal and rather abrupt," agreed the midget in
an appeasing tone. "I should have made the approach with more finesse.
Abruptness is one of my defects. But now that I've blundered in, I'd
just as well finish. You don't belong out here in the wide open
spaces, in these sparse settlements. You belong in the congested
areas, where big things are being done, where there's planning,
execution, accomplishment. Why, you've taken over both ends of a
little hoss trade, laid out all the plans, details and ground work for
a community entertainment, and did it with the ease of a big executive
lighting a cigarette. You need a big job, in a big place. With your
personality and head-work, you can climb up the ladder to the top
rung."

"Well, of all things!" said the girl, embarrassed at the unexpected
drift, but laughing at the implications. "And this from a guy that has
fled the mob and wants me to take his place. Now just what big job
have you laid out for me? Running a circus? Managing a theater? Or
maybe operating a railroad?"

"You could make a success with any or all of 'em," retorted Davy. "But
none of these were in my mind. Some women want a career. Some gain it
by their own efforts and some climb to success on a ladder supported
by others. Then there is the big majority--many of 'em brilliant and
capable--that just settle down in the doldrums of marriage and let
their talents rust out in negligence and inattention."

"Then I'm not to marry?"

"You ought to. A gal as attractive, vivacious, and clever as you are,
would have to marry--in self-defense, if for no other reason. Marriage
need not interfere. It might help. With that hazard and gamble out of
the way, it would allow you to expand your talents in planning,
executing, and managing in any line you choose."

"And about when do you plan that this defense marriage--this shotgun
wedding--is to take place?" questioned Adine scornfully. "And who's
the victim?"

"Now that's a candle-flame that I'll keep my fingers out of," said
Davy hastily. "Judge Vane told me once a person who advises or mixes
in on the marriage relations of others is liable in damages. And
anyhow, sane people don't run matrimonial agencies. In that debacle,
you're on your own. I'm promoting talent, not running a marriage
bureau. And I don't want the side show to dim the performance in the
big top. You've got talent, personality, ability to influence others,
and whether you are solo in the orchestra or doubling in brass in the
matrimonial band makes no difference. You ought to be directing the
mob instead of listening to a lone midget."

Adine Lough laughed, not at the text, but the homely comparisons of
the little man that, standing hat in hand, was earnestly and seriously
throwing bouquets of compliments and darts of poignant facts right in
her face. And both the flowers and darts were coming from an
unexpected source. With the delicate matrimonial problem swept
completely aside, she felt that this new-found friend, in his
nation-wide travels and a million contacts, was really sincere in some
of his estimates and was trying to be helpful in his blunt, abrupt
appraisals. Anyhow, she was reconciled to that view.

"Well, I never had so many compliments in all my life! I didn't know
that you were a student of sociology--could estimate capabilities and
get everyone in their right groove. I should have been conferring with
you, for I have an unsolved problem, bigger than any you've
mentioned." Adine had ceased her scorning tones; now she was asking
for an answer. She motioned Davy to a footstool.

"Why, I didn't know that you had a care in the world. As Polo Garrett
used to say, 'What's eatin' ya?'"

"My problem is my family. I'm the only one left that is able to do
things. There is little I can do to aid the ones that are sick and I
am making no progress in keeping these two big, clumsy ranches out of
bankruptcy.

"Father, as you know, is in the hospital in Omaha and mother was
called there three weeks ago. The trivial ulcers have developed into
something worse. Daddy went to Omaha to be near the market that was
tumbling, crashing, and bringing on bankruptcy to stock raisers. He
hoped to find a solution, hoped to learn that the end of the disaster
was in sight. He had been cutting production for four years; surely a
period of scarcity was at hand, he wanted to be ready.

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