David Lannarck, Midget

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"Why, Landy! I can have five thousand dollars here in five days,"
interrupted Davy. "If there was any way to move Hulls and Maizie out,
I would deal with 'em before they dismounted." Davy waved his hand in
the direction of the horsemen that had stopped at the farther corral
to inspect the weaned calves.

"Hulls en Maizie woulda been out long ago if they'd quit snoopin'
around and let Hulls peddle a few cows to git money to travel on. I've
got a musty but reliable tip Hulls is itchin' to go. Hit's too long a
tale to tell without stim'lants, but Archie has sent fer Hulls en
Maizie, wants 'em to come en he'p him with a roomin' house down in
Arizony, whar they're a-buildin' a big dam, en things are boomin'.
Hulls is shore plannin' a git-away. He thinks he can drive through en
take some plunder with him. He's traded off his ridin' hosses fer
harness critters. He's contracted Ike Steele fer a light spring wagon.
With a little money in his pocket, Hulls is ready. You buy this thing,
Son! Slip Hulls a hundred en he's out en gone.

"Anyhow, let's listen to their talk. They've finished another failure
en are worried. Sass 'em if ye want to, en kid 'em out of the hundred
if ye can," was Landy's final caution as the party of horsemen
dismounted and loitered to hear Potter and Landy's caustic comments
before going to their car, parked outside the gate. Landy introduced
Davy as a newcomer.

"Ye should have had my podner here with ye this mornin'," badgered
Landy. "His size en power mighta skeered Hulls en made him quit."

Logan laughed as he pictured the midget in a contest with shaggy Hulls
Barrow. "Maybe we could deal with Hulls," he said, "if we could get
him away from the woman. If your young friend has a way with women,
could lure Maizie out of hearing for a few moments, we could sure use
him."

"Well, I've never won any medals in contests for women's favors," said
Davy, "but I've found that a bouquet of flattery sometimes helps. Have
you tried the Rose-Chrysanthemum method?"

"That's what we were trying today," said Logan resignedly, "but
instead of roses and posies it turned out to be brickbats and
cabbages. You see, we left the sheriff at home and took along the men
from here, hoping to get past the guard line and count up what cattle
is left on the place. But it was no use. The yard fence was the
deadline. Maizie was right at Hull's elbow, commanding her one-man
army to fire at will. Not being armed, we fell back to consolidate
losses instead of gains. Have you any suggestions or plans?" Logan's
reply and question was directed at Landy. Like others, in their first
contact with midgets, he was giving Davy the status of a child. He
could not credit him with experience or expect counsel from that
source. Landy's reply was not comforting.

"Wal, hit does look like a couple o' killin's en the expense of two
funerals 'fore ye can git action. Old Matt, the daddy of 'em, is
reported as havin' a private graveyard, scattered eround somewhar. Hit
might come in handy in this emergency. In yer gaddin' around have ye
ever seen enything like hit?" concluded Landy, turning to Davy.

"I never did!" said the midget emphatically. "It's got more
entanglements than the time Solly Monheim took the bankrupt law to
escape bankruptcy. That's the way Solly explained it after his show
went on the rocks at Lincoln. And anyhow," he added to Logan, "why
don't you peddle the thing to someone else and let them take the grief
and do the slaughtering?"

"There's no slaughtering, as you call it, involved," said Logan with
much dignity. "It's a lawful proceeding. If anyone is killed it will
be done legally and in due process of enforcing the law."

"So you left the law out of it, left the sheriff at home, and went
prowling on your own. If the old belligerent had cut down on one of
these cow hands this morning, everything would have been legal and
orderly?"

Davy's sarcasm struck home. Logan's face flushed. He realized that he
was talking to an adult, not a child. He resented the criticism. But
for the fact that the little man was a friend of Landy Spencer he
would have made a harsh reply or ignored him entirely.

"Well, just what is your interest in the matter?" he questioned. "I
don't see your name on the list of bank stockholders. Maybe you are
kin to the Barrows, sort of looking after their interests?"

"No, I am not related to the Barrows. Never had the pleasure of ever
seeing one of 'em. I don't know where they live, couldn't find the
place without a guide. Wouldn't know how big it was after I'd seen it.
I'm just an innocent bystander with big ears and a lot of curiosity.
There is a rumor abroad that the ranch is in the hands of a receiver,
that it's for sale, that the receiver is having some trouble about
possession. If I could get just a few facts and find this receiver,
I'd make him a proposition to buy it 'as is,' as the auctioneers
sometimes say."

"You have never seen the ranch?" questioned the astonished Logan. "You
would bid sight-unseen for a property that you don't know where it's
located--would accept a deed without possession? Young man, you need a
guardian."

"I had one once," retorted the midget, "and in the eight months of his
management he turned over quite a lot of money to me, enough to gamble
on, to buy a block of blue sky or a pig in a poke. Maybe there's
enough to make a bid on a ranch, a property with a crazy man on it,
armed with a gun and threatening to shoot intruders. If you are the
receiver, I want to make a bid for the Bar-O ranch, as it is."

"No bids are solicited," said Logan severely. "The judgment is for
forty-two hundred dollars. I bid it in for that, and must account for
that amount. Then there are expenses and costs being added from time
to time--"

"Now you've hit center," interrupted the midget. "You've pricked the
sore spot. There are costs being added, and time being frittered, and
nothing accomplished. It might run on this way for months, and you
hoping to have the collection cleaned up and get the bank opened soon
thereafter.

"Now I'm wanting to help, wanting to get on the payroll. Here's how.
Between now and next Thursday I'll pay you four thousand dollars for a
deed to the Bar-O ranch. You make the consideration the full forty-two
hundred and show, in your report, an expense of two hundred in getting
possession. Then it's up to me to get old Shells, or Hulls, or what's
his name, to move out. It might cost me the two hundred, it might cost
a lot more; that's my lookout. Maybe the old guy won't move at all.
But in any event, I shall not resort to law, won't call the sheriff to
get killed or get action. With winter coming on and a woman mixed up
in the case, it would be too bad to set 'em out in the snow without
shelter or money."

Adine Lough, more deeply interested in the outcome than any other
person present, had come from the house to join the little party now
congregated in front of Potter's little office building. She heard
Davy's final proposition. She saw tough, seasoned old Landy Spencer
furtively reach down and pat the little man on the back.

"What about the cattle?" asked Finch, breaking the tension.

"Are any cattle left, and how many?" Davy countered promptly.

"I don't know," replied Finch sheepishly. "We didn't get to count 'em
this morning. There's probably thirty or forty old cows with unweaned
calves and a bull or two. Then there's a bunch of wild, unbranded
yearlings, probably twenty or thirty, over on that pasture by the
cliffs. He's got no feed, no hay put up, and has probably been selling
off some of the better cows and calves."

"How much are you set back in this debacle?" asked the midget,
dropping his bantering tone.

"The Bar-O ranch owes me, not the government; I have always advanced
the money. Two hundred and eighty dollars. You see," Finch hastened to
explain, "the government has an area in there that's rather
inaccessible. They've been holding it for settlement. It's more than
the Bar-O folks need, but there's no one else, unless I bring in sheep
men and open up an old controversy. So, in the years past, I've
haggled money out of the Barrows, just a little at a time, but we've
kept friendly until now. Now, it looks like I'm up against the iron."

"You're not so bad off," chuckled Davy, "you've had a fine lot of
experience. Here's my proposition on your case. If the receiver
accepts my offer of a deed without possession, I'll give you a hundred
dollars. If I get possession in the next two years, and you allot me
the grazing rights to that area, I'll pay you the balance. If I don't
get possession in that time, you can charge off the balance due. Do I
hear any takers?" said the little man, simulating the call of an
auctioneer.

"Well, I'm a taker," said Finch resignedly. "It's a rough road, but it
seems the only way. What's your reaction, Logan? Are you a taker?"

"I'm a taker, when there's anything to take. How are you to get the
money in here?" he asked of Davy. "Without a bank, we can't handle
checks or drafts. How do you plan the payment?"

"Is there a telegraph station in Adot? No? Well, that's too bad. If
there was a commercial pay station there, I could have the money here
this afternoon. As it is, I suppose I would have to have the actual
currency shipped by express to Laramie or Cheyenne. Where do you do
banking?" he asked of Logan.

"I have an account with the Guaranty at Laramie and with the First
National at Cheyenne. I hope to have our bank here opened by the
holidays."

"The holidays would be too late. Hulls might kill somebody, or
voluntarily move out and spoil the trade. Also, I'll have to have
added money--have to open an account to get funds with which to
appease Hulls or to live on, while I am working at it. I have never
been in Laramie and I nearly got killed in Cheyenne, so I'll open an
account at Cheyenne. If you say you'll trade, I'll get on the phone
and have the cash or an acceptable draft in Cheyenne as soon as the
mail can get it there."

"Well, I guess I'll trade," said Logan resignedly. "This Barrow thing
is the last outstanding debt due the bank. I hope the judge will
approve my report of the matter, so that I can get the bank opened by
Christmas. We will have to go to town and draw up a contract. Can you
go today?"

"Well, I will have to go somewhere to get on a long distance telephone
about sending the money. Where to and how much. With the winter
weather approaching, I may have to wallow through snowdrifts to get to
Cheyenne, but that's a risk incident to the business."

"We'll get you over to Cheyenne," interrupted Potter, who had shown
deep interest in the conversation, "we'll get you over if we have to
use a snow plow. Maybe you've got the magic to get this row settled.
At any rate, it's worth a trial."

"I have a telephone in my office at Adot," said Logan. "I am using the
back room of the bank as an office. I've kept the phone."

"Is there an extension on it?" asked Davy eagerly. "Yes? Fine. When I
get this banker on the phone, I want you to listen in. It's an
education to any man to hear Ralph Gaynor talk. He's the boss of the
Dollar Savings Bank in Springfield. It isn't a big bank, just a stout
one. And now all the others are looking to him for advice. Of course
he'll razz me about making a venture in these hazardous times, but it
will be worth your time to hear him do it."

"How are we to get back from Adot?" asked the midget abruptly of
Landy.

"I'll take you over and bring you back," interposed Adine Lough. "I
want to hear that man sass you over the phone, if he can get in a word
edgewise, and you on the other end of the line."

Davy laughed with the others. "Well, the parade starts promptly at
eleven, the doors to the Big Show open at one, let's git goin'," said
the little man, simulating a circus announcer.

Adine went to the house for her hat. Potter maneuvered her roadster
out to the driveway, after checking the gas and oil. Then a flushed
girl, a midget man, and an aging Nestor of other days drove away on a
mission that pleased them all.

12

The State Bank of Adot had been an important institution in an
unimportant community. It employed three people and enlarged its
chartered rights to perform many services in the little community. In
the prosperous days following the World War it added to its surplus
and paid fair dividends to scattered owners of limited shares. Its
service was appreciated by home folks; its prosperity attracted the
attention of Aaron Logan.

Logan, with limited capital and an alert mind, operated a petty loan
business. He traded for what-have-you. In the early twenties, he
exchanged his chips and whetstones for single shares of bank stock.
Arriving at a favorable status, he persuaded the bank directors to
enlarge the capital to absorb his petty loan business. In 1924, he
quit the "street" to accept a cushioned chair in the rear room of the
bank. His experience would add caution and prudence.

For, just now, the cattle business was slipping; prices were falling
below the cost of production. Home folks were not buying; the rescued
European nations forgot, as usual, their benefactor and dickered for
meager supplies of meats and grains at other marts. America's foreign
trade sank to a new low. Her thousands of merchant craft rocked
listlessly and rusted quickly in stagnant waters while the false
prophets of Mammon urged idle capital to pyramid a luring stock market
to a glorious peak and final crash.

The banks of America were the first to feel the pinch. Some waited too
long--waited to dole out to a frenzied public all available cash and
close the doors too late for solvency. But not so with the Bank of
Adot. Aaron Logan got his order for receivership before his public
went frantic and while cash was yet available. Under court order he
was proceeding to thaw out the frozen items of assets, and planned to
open the institution to those who would limit their withdrawals to
stated amounts. He made progress in these endeavors until he bumped
into the stone wall of the Barrow loan. Really, it wasn't a giant sum,
as such sums are rated in banking circles, but in the present instance
it represented the difference between opening a bank or keeping it
closed.

Aaron Logan had given the matter of this Bar-O affair much thought. He
had canvassed every available prospect. In all the community there
wasn't a person that would give a thin dime for a property with a
defiant oldster thereon, who would certainly kill or be killed if
possession was to be gained. And a killing was bad advertisement, a
poor prelude to opening a bank.

But in the very hour he planned to execute this last resort, a rank
outsider, an unknown and uncanvassed source, a little runt of a man
with more confidence and assurance than his size would warrant, was
offering to take over the ranch and assume the problem. Aaron Logan
regarded it as a slender chance--could not believe that one so small
could have earned so much--but he would take the chance. He headed his
car up Willow Street to stop at the bank's rear door. He waved Adine
to a favorable parking space.

"I will call Mr. Limeledge, my lawyer, to draw up a contract," he said
as the party of five were seated in the back room.

"Well, that's hardly necessary," said Davy. "If you jot down a memo
that you will make a deed to David Lannarck to the Bar-O ranch upon
payment, on or before October 18th, 1932, of four thousand dollars in
cash and a probable expenditure of two hundred dollars in getting
possession, and sign it, I will also sign it and it will be an
agreement. But before we do anything, I want to get on the phone to
see if I can contact Ralph Gaynor. None of you folks really know me. I
want you to listen in so that we can get acquainted. Here's the money
for the long distance call," he added. "Tell the operator that it's
OK."

Aaron Logan didn't like being told what to do, especially by a little
cocksure midget. But there was the matter of getting rid of a bad
problem. He complied with Davy's request.

"This is David Lannarck at phone fifty. I want to talk to Ralph
Gaynor, at phone BA two hundred in the Dollar Savings Bank in
Springfield. Yes, that's the state. I should have said so, for it's a
grand old commonwealth. I'll be right here for an hour."

In the lull of waiting, Aaron Logan wondered--wondered how one so
small hoped to depose one so fierce and stubborn. He would find out.
"Do you think you can get Hulls and Maizie out of there by
Thanksgiving?" he inquired politely.

"It doesn't really matter," said David languidly. "But I must try to
get acquainted with 'em; make friends with 'em if I can."

"Why do you hope to persuade 'em to get off?" exclaimed the
astonished receiver. "I've seen 'em. They're impossible."

"Maybe you didn't see 'em at their best," replied the midget quietly.
"I've never seen either of them, but I've had several descriptions
from others and this Maizie shows possibilities."

"Possibilities for what?" snorted Logan. "That woman is a she-devil
that would commit murder to gain her ends. She wouldn't listen to a
governor granting her a reprieve. And anyhow, what are her
possibilities?"

"I understand, from descriptions, that she is of the gypsy type--dark,
languid, glamorous. If she's all that, I can place her." Davy's reply
was slow and indifferent. Now he brightened up to add: "Say, when I
get on the phone, shall I tell him to send me a draft on a Denver bank
or shall I tell him to ship the cold cash by express, or wire it to
Cheyenne by Western Union?"

"Cold cash is never out of place in paying a bill, but if you have a
draft sent to the First National in Cheyenne, we can go there and make
the transfer. I need to go to Cheyenne anyhow."

"And I need some added cash," said Davy Lannarck. "I'll have 'em make
the draft for five thousand. The First National can split it as we
direct."

Davy made much of jotting down notes; Landy Spencer sat quietly, his
face immobile; Adine Lough went to the window ostensibly to dab on
make-up, but really to suppress smiles and stifle laughter. A man of
importance--a bank receiver, an arm of the court--was being kidded and
he didn't know it.

In the drive across country from the B-line ranch, the three in the
roadster planned and outlined their conduct at this proposed
conference at the bank. Landy related fully the incident as to why he
knew that Hulls Barrow and Maizie planned a quick getaway. Landy had
contacted Ike Steele only a day or two ago and Ike's story of the
wagon trade unfolded the plot. Stripped of inconsequential details,
Ike's story follows:

Ugly Collins, a former resident, was back on important business. Ugly
had left the country a decade ago, following his acquittal for petty
thieving. In his driftings about, he landed in Las Vegas. There he
contacted another former resident in the person of Archie Barrow.
Archie was in the money. He was sole proprietor of a big rooming house
in a community that was being congested with trainloads of steel,
cement, derricks, and cluttered with humanity who had come to build,
and were building, a great dam in the nearby Colorado River. Archie
needed help to carry on a business that had increased a hundredfold.
He recalled his brother Hulls, who might be useful, but he
particularly recalled the executive capacities of Maizie. She was
badly needed to prod the Mexican women in their labors of making beds
and sweeping rooms that were occupied twice daily.

But Archie knew it would be useless to write to a brother that never
went to the post office and was remote from rural deliveries. He was
happy to contact Ugly Collins. And just now, Ugly had two objectives:
one, to get away from a place where work was paramount; the other, to
get back to Adot and look after a possible inheritance. He understood
that his mother had died, leaving the little homestead that surely
should have sold for more than mere funeral expenses.

A deal was quickly made. Archie would pay train fare and Ugly would
contact Hulls and Maizie; would move the bankrupts out of trouble and
poverty to an Eldorado of prosperity. For once in his varied and
useless career Ugly performed a successful mission. Hulls and Maizie
readily agreed to the plan. They would drive through--taking with them
needed and useful plunder. Having seen Maizie, Ugly decided he would
travel back with them. All details for the trip were now completed,
except that a little more expense money was badly needed.

Landy cautioned Ike Steele not to disclose the proposed move to
anyone else. Vaguely, Landy entertained the hope that someone--just
who, he had not planned--would buy the Bar-O. Acting on a hunch, he
"touched" his sister Alice for a hundred. On the drive-in, Adine
stopped the car while Davy invoiced his available cash at sixty-five
dollars. These conspirators now planned that immediately after a
contract was signed, Landy would search out Ike Steele, give him the
hundred dollars, to be given to Ugly Collins when the party was loaded
and on their way. Ike would be paid a personal ten, if he got it done.

And these conspirators made other plans. Knowing that in the interval
of getting phone connections they would be beset with furtive
questions from a curious executive. What was he going to do with the
ranch? how did he plan to get the resisters off? and other pertinent
questions, they planned for evasive answers.

"Leave that to me," said Mr. Lannarck. "I think I can parry every
thrust, can lead him through a mystic maze of information that will
pile up a lot of useless knowledge." And the little man was getting
along very well with his assignment, as Adine polished her nose at the
window and Landy Spencer sat quietly, seeming uninterested in mere
worldly affairs.

"You were speaking of employment awhile ago," said the persistent
Logan. "You spoke of 'placing' Maizie. Do you conduct that kind of an
agency?"

"No," said Davy, still busy with his notes. "In Maizie's case, I would
have to buy out the business, plan the details of her dress and
appearance, and 'plant' her as a 'front'--a 'come-on'--for the
suckers' money."

The bewildered receiver had let the craft of conversation drift into
strange waters. Was he dealing with a moron or a maniac? Except that
this was the only bid he had ever had--the only prospect in sight--for
a deal that would open a bank, he would take the phone, cancel the
call and dismiss the conference. In desperation he would make another
try.

"Well, I don't know what you are talking about, but I do know this
Maizie woman. If these places you speak of call for a stubborn
hellion, then you've got the right party. But I would like to know
just where she could be made into a useful thing?"

"I wasn't thinking of her temperament," said Davy as he folded up his
memorandum. "She's described as the gypsy type. Such a type is
valuable when properly placed. Were you ever at Coney Island?" he
asked abruptly. "No? Well, it's a resort, a playground, down New York
way. Henry Hudson landed here, and many another Dutchman has been
'landed' and made regrettable discoveries right on this same spot. It
has a bathing beach where the gals show what they've got and fat men
flounder and cavort far beyond their capacities. Up from the beach is
the midway proper--a carnival or street fair, with bandstands and
dance platforms, peep shows, free shows, and legits. At the proper
season these places are alive with spenders. They bring in carloads of
money and take away nothing more tangible than experience. Why, Mister
Logan, a man of your talents could spend profitable days at Coney
Island in the study of financial circulation, could write a book,
entitled 'The Slippery Dollar; Its Origin, Its Travels, Its
Destination'! Some of these dollars have origin in work and sweat and
some stem from blood and tears, but all--"

"And just where in this mess would this Maizie woman belong?"
interrupted Logan desperately. "Your recital is interesting, but it
doesn't get to the point. Where and why would you place her?"

"Why, I'd place her as a 'front' down at the fortune-teller's booth,"
replied Davy quickly. "I'd either buy out--or buy in--with Tony Garci,
who has a concession, and plant Maizie right at the tent-flap as a
'come-on.' Her name would have to be Madame Tousan, or Princess
Caraza, or some such, and she would have to dress the part. Black and
red, maybe, with plastered hair and a coppery skin. A quart of rings
and bracelets on each hand and arm, horseshoe earrings, and a big
ostrich fan. Never a word of English, mind you! She'd just wave the
fan to the entrance and inner glories where Tulu Garrat, Tony's wife,
would read palms, or the crystal ball, and take the money."

Davy, too, was getting a bit anxious. He was running out of details.
He glanced at the phone, hoping for relief. None came. He rambled on.

"If I ran this fortune-telling dump, I'd lift it out of the
ten-twent'-thirt' class, to an even smacker--maybe two. I'd give 'em a
written reading with 'a hunch' in it. They all play hunches down
there. Hoss racing, stock market, numbers rackets, and such. They'd
play my hunches. If they win, I'd have wide advertisement; if they
lose, nothing said.

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