The Land of Lure: A Story of the Columbia River Basin

Mr. Norton, now in the best of spirits, turned to those present and asked: "Shall we listen to his plea?" A chorus of voices exclaimed: "Go ahead; let's have the story."

It was a trying moment for Jack Norton. He had not expected events to take this turn, but he saw that his father expected an explanation of his conduct, and there was no alternative. It must be made in the presence of those who had assembled at the home of his dearest friends, the Gullys, and he knew that in view of the relations that existed between him and the family, an explanation was due.

Withdrawing his chair from the table, he placed it conveniently near for Mrs. Gully to be seated by her husband, and securing a seat for Ida, he stood directly facing her and began the recital of his story.

"I do not know," he began, "that it was Dad's original intention that I should inflict upon you innocent persons present a recital of my boyish prank that has resulted in this self imposed exile for the past four years, and I wish to impress on your minds before I enter into details that I am not making a plea for sympathy or setting up a plea of extenuating circumstances.

"For the suffering that I have caused him I am sorry, and I too have suffered. No one will ever know the hours of torturing remorse and regret through which I have passed. My own sufferings I have borne, I hope, with fortitude, as will no doubt be attested to by my very dear friends, the Gully family, who have never heard me mention in the slightest way my affairs, and who have been most considerate of my feelings in not asking, as they had a perfect right to do, for any information relative to myself or family, and for this evidence of their faith in me I wish to thank them most heartily.

"With the circumstances attending my leaving him, Dad is thoroughly familiar. I had just returned from the Agricultural and Mechanical College of which my home state, Texas, is justly proud, and had joined him in Galveston, where he had moved his family to reside permanently after his retirement from the land and stock business, and at which place my poor mother lost her life at the time of the disastrous tidal wave which almost destroyed the city.

"Dad, at the time of the terrible occurrence, had gone on a short trip to the northern part of the state to look after business interests, as he frequently did. Why I escaped and was not taken with my mother I never could understand, but by some caprice I was saved and cared for as an 'unknown' until Dad returned, which he did as quickly as he could.

"After a search which lasted for days I was finally located by Dad, who has always been a most kind and indulgent father. Upon this occasion of my return from college, the event being my twenty-first birthday, I found him in a most generous mood, ready to grant my every wish. He took me to his office, he having resumed business activities after the loss of my mother, and led me through the various departments and told me that he was anxious to take me in with him and have me become familiar with his affairs, that I might succeed him, as he was growing old.

"I thanked him for this generous offer, but being imbued with the idea that I was a thorough yachtsman, I changed the subject and began teasing him to let me take his yacht, the 'Magnolia,' for a few days' cruise with some half dozen of my boy friends.

"The 'Magnolia' was a handsome craft, thoroughly equipped and furnished to accommodate ten or a dozen passengers, and as her crew usually consisted of three men, I had planned to take her out alone, with my friends as helpers, making two watches, there being six of us, and we would cruise to the coast of Mexico and return in about ten days.

"The yacht was Dad's special pride and his only recreation, and he had bought and fitted her up at a very great expense. He had interests at various points along the coast and in Cuba, and this was his means of combining pleasure and business, by visiting these interests twice a year. I had accompanied him on all these trips, as he arranged to make them during my vacation from school or college, and I felt that I was capable of taking her out and returning her to her slip on the strand in perfect safety.

"But Dad did not think so and told me I had better wait and accompany him later, at which time he would be pleased to entertain my friends on the cruise. This did not suit me, and right here I blame Dad for not being more firm with me. At any rate, he finally consented to let me have the yacht, but I was to take her regular crew to man her. This I agreed to do, but did so reluctantly.

"Dad gave me an order to the watchman on board to have her provisioned for a ten days' trip, and to be made ready for sailing the following Monday, at which time she was to be turned over to me. Thanking him, I hurried to the slip and gave the watchman Dad's orders. He took it, and after reading saluted, and with the familiar 'Aye, Aye, Sir,' sounding in my ears, I left him.

"It was then Thursday, and I had ample time to look up the members of my party and acquaint them with the success of my appeal to Dad. There was one among those who accompanied me on this memorable trip with whom I hope I may never come in contact. When I told him of the conditions under which Dad had given me permission to use the yacht, he laughed and said: That's easy; just forget to call her crew, and we'll take her out alone,' and I, feeling my newly attained manhood, answered: 'I'll attend to that; just you be ready at the appointed time,' and left him. But the seed had been sown that finally grew and produced the bitterest fruit I or any other misguided lad could ever taste.

"I never mentioned the fact to the rest of the boys that we were supposed to have others than ourselves aboard, as I knew there were those among them who would have refused to accompany me unless Dad's requirements were complied with.

"Well, to make a long story short, I did not call the crew, and as Dad was called away to St. Louis the Saturday before we were to sail he never knew of my failure to do so until after it was too late. I went with him to the station as he was leaving, and he took my hand and wished me a pleasant voyage, and handing me a generous check, he added: 'I shall expect you here on my return; be careful, Jack. Goodbye,' and that was the last time I saw or heard from him until a few hours ago.

"We left the following Monday morning, and I will never forget the feeling of importance I experienced as the yacht drew out from her slip at the end of a hawser and was towed out into the bay by a noisy little steam tug which I had employed for the purpose. I knew that I was disobeying Dad, but felt perfectly sure of myself, and I had those among my party who were well experienced in sailing; besides, Dad was gone and would not return until we had completed our cruise. Then I would tell him of what I had done, how successfully I had managed the 'Magnolia' and he would feel proud of me.

"When we were well out into the bay they let go the hawser and the little craft began to ride the swells. It was but a moment's work to run up a bit of canvas that soon picked up the breeze, and rounding to, we headed for Boliver Point Light, that marked the outlet to the Gulf, and as we entered the channel through which the huge ocean going vessels gained entrance to the bay, we navigated our craft successfully, and passed several of these, besides numerous tugs, lighters and revenue cutters, and this fact but convinced us more thoroughly of our ability as seamen.

"I had not taken the helm yet, but at the request of one of my guests whom I knew to be an experienced yachtsman, had allowed him to see us safely through the narrows that lay between Boliver Point and the Jetties. After clearing the channel and entering the gulf proper I relieved my friend, and taking the helm, steered directly south, a course that almost paralleled the Galveston Island, but as the miles increased the distance from the southern end of the island became so great that we were almost in the path of the South American liners.

"We were having a splendid time, and as the breeze was favorable, we decided to put into a little coast town whose buildings could be plainly seen glistening in the bright sunlight far ahead on the main land. We made this port, and after going ashore for a few hours, decided to follow the coast, laying close in, and to put into the next village, Port Lavaca, where we would tie up for the night.

"I will not undertake to describe our trip, with its many stops and things of interest that we came in contact with at these quaint little settlements, half Mexican and half American, that lined the Gulf shore.

"Passing over the next two days of our cruise, we arrived at Matagorda Bay, and being desirous of visiting the point at the extreme inner end of the bay, where the little village of Indianola had been almost completely destroyed by the great tidal wave, we put in at the entrance and spent the night at the town of Matagorda, intending to visit the scene of the devastated village the following day.

"In this we were disappointed, for during the night a terrific gulf storm came up, and it became so severe before morning that we were compelled to abandon our berths aboard the yacht and go ashore. The next two days brought no signs of an abatement of the storm, and we were advised not to venture out until a more favorable time. Two days in this little fishing village caused us to lose interest in its novelty, and to a very great degree cooled our ardor and inclination to continue the trip.

"The third day was very much better, and we decided to abandon our trip and return home, and as the force of the storm decreased in its severity, we started immediately after noon, intending to round the point of Matagorda Peninsula before night and put into the first harbor we could make on the leeward side.

"We experienced no difficulty in getting well under way in the Bay, although the wind was against us, and by beating up first the inland shore and by tacking back and forth, we reached the point just at dusk, but we found the gale was almost as severe as it had been the day before, and we dared not venture too far seaward. As darkness came on we undertook to round the point to gain the leeward shore of the peninsula and thus be protected from the force of the wind.

"I was at the helm and had given instructions to my companions, who were all alert to help, to haul down most of the canvas before we attempted to make the point. They were busily engaged at this when we glided out to where we caught the full force of the gale, and it required all of my time and strength to hold her off the point. It was now quite dark and it was impossible to distinguish the land. The light off the point was plainly seen, but it lay so far out, to mark the course of large vessels, I dared not attempt to round it, but must make the space between it and land, which I knew was ample, but I misjudged the distance and in a few moments we were hard aground on the shoals and were in a fair way of pounding to pieces.

"Work as we would, she was immovable, except to plow further into the slimy mud, gravel and oyster shells of which the shoals consisted. We stripped her of every thread of canvas after trying to right her, thinking by so doing she would hold together for the night, but it was no use. We saw that she was doomed and prepared to leave her to her fate.

"We could hear the surf breaking off to port, and knew that we could reach land easily, so when she finally rolled over on her side and her hatches went awash, we gathered what we could of our effects and went overboard. I do not know how my companions fared after they entered the water. I had no difficulty in reaching land, for after being hurled shoreward by the waves a few times, I found that I was not beyond my depth, and after being knocked down and almost strangled as the breakers came in, I scrambled ahead and finally found myself beyond their reach.

"My first thoughts were for the safety of my companions, and I called to see if I could locate them. The sound of my voice was drowned by the roar of the surf, but in a few minutes I heard a voice calling very near me, and it proved to be one of the boys. It was no time for congratulating each other on our escape, so we set to work to try and locate the rest of the party. One by one we heard them answer our shouts, and as each came in they aided in the search, until the last was found. None seemed any the worse for their experience, and as we were wet and chilled, with no means of providing a fire, we did not know what to do, so we decided to move a little way back, and by keeping in motion dry our clothes as best we could, and at any rate keep warm.

"We agreed to remain until morning and see what condition the Magnolia was in before we undertook to work our way back along the peninsula to the mainland. As the night advanced, I could hear the groaning of the timber in our disabled craft as it was subjected to the strain of the storm, and I thought of what I had done, and of poor old Dad, and I knew that the loss of the yacht would not hurt him as badly as my actions. I called my best boyhood friend, who had come as one of the party, off to one side and told him of my trouble, of how I had disregarded Dad's wishes, and confided to him that if the Magnolia proved to be a total loss in the morning, I would not return to Dad, and gave him a message to deliver to him saying that I would not return or write until, by my own efforts, I could replace the yacht.

"My friends tried to persuade me to give up the idea, as such action would but add to Dad's trouble. But I was obdurate, and lest I be persuaded to abandon my purpose, I left them a few hours after our conversation without waiting to see the result of the wreck that had been caused by my folly.

"After leaving my friends I followed the ridge of the peninsula back to the mainland and continued to walk until about noon the next day, when I was forced to seek rest, as I was completely exhausted. When I reached a little village, I purchased a flannel shirt and overalls, and my identity was lost. With the funds I had in my possession and the check Dad had given me, I managed to work my way out here, and you know the rest."

Jack Norton had not been interrupted during the time he was telling his story. His hearers sat deeply interested, but when he reached the end of his narrative it brought them back to their surroundings. After a moment's silence, Jack's father, who had been seated with his chair tilted back, came down with a crash, and seizing Jack by the hand exclaimed:

"Why, Jack, the 'Magnolia' was not hurt. Your friends brought her into port a few days later and she is now as good as ever."

Young Norton was dumfounded. "How did they do it?" he asked.

"By the aid of some fishermen and a small tug who sighted them in distress the following morning. She had only keeled over in the mud, and as there were no rocks upon which to pound she hung together and they soon had her righted and under sail. So you see, my boy, you have had all this suffering for nothing," explained his father.

"No, not altogether for nothing, for I have learned a very great lesson; not to jump at conclusions and to abide by an agreement; and besides," he said, smiling, "I have acquired a home of my own and," stepping over to Ida's side and taking her by the hand, assisted her to arise, "Miss Gully has done me the honor to promise to share this home with me, which more than repays me for my sufferings. I ask but one other favor in this world, and that is your forgiveness and blessings, Dad."

It was now Jack's father's turn to be taken by surprise, but he was too old a diplomat to be caught off his guard, and he wanted to know more of the step his son was contemplating before giving it his approval, so he bowed politely to Ida and answered: "As for my forgiveness, son, you have it, but it would be strange if I should go out into the world to look for a lost son and should return with both a son and daughter." But he did not commit himself.

The rest of the party who had heard Jack's story and its happy ending came forward to congratulate he and Ida, and express their hopes for their future.

Travis Gully and his wife, who had not yet been able to fully understand the situation, were happy because the outcome had seemed to please Jack, and they knew that after the strangers had gone he would tell them all about it in a way they could understand.

Mr. Norton arose from the table and asked Gully if he could find accommodations for the driver of his car, as he would like to spend the night with his son in his home alone. Mr. Palmer, he said, could take the other car and the rest of the party and return to the village and await his coming.

The change wrought by honest toil and that magic word, irrigation.

Gully said that he thought there would be no difficulty in providing for him, and so it was arranged. Mr. Palmer and Dugan, with the three remaining members of the party, who proved to be some friends of Mr. Norton's who had accompanied him on this trip with the view to investing in land, were to return to the village and await Mr. Norton's coming.

After thanking Travis Gully and his wife for their hospitality, they shook hands with them and the young people, and with promises to see them again in a few days, left for the village.

Soon after their departure, Mr. Norton expressed a desire to visit Jack's homestead.

"All right, Dad," exclaimed Jack, "we will run over there, and I will return later and get my horse and buggy."

"I'll take care of them; you go with your father," said Gully.

Jack thanked him and he and his father drove off together. Just as they were turning from the road that led to the school house Jack noticed that Miss Anderson had just dismissed school, and asked his father's permission to take her and the Gully children home in the car, to which his father consented. Turning back into the road, they soon met them, and as the car was turned around to pick them up, Jack called to Miss Anderson and invited her and the children to ride; when she smilingly approached the car and before she could express her thanks, Jack introduced his father. Miss Anderson stopped short, and her bewildered look amused Jack, who had stepped out to assist her and the children to enter the car.

"Don't ask any questions now," said he, laughing.

"But," she began, "I do not understand."

"Of course not, but Ida will tell you all about it when you get home," answered Jack.

As Miss Anderson entered the car and took the seat beside him, Mr. Norton remarked:

"This has indeed been a remarkable day, Miss Anderson; a day of wonders."

The children were assisted into the car, and Jack, with Joe upon his knee, sat with the driver.

After they had been taken to the Gully home, and the children scrambled out, all excitement over their first auto ride. Miss Anderson, after being assisted from the car, thanked Mr. Norton and expressed the hope that she would be in a better position on the morrow to discuss with him the important events that had occurred. "For you know," said she, "I am still in the dark."

CHAPTER XXI.

When they entered Jack's house, the old gentleman was in an excellent mood, and had been joking his son about his prowess as a homesteader. He viewed the interior with a quizzical gaze and seemed to locate everything at a glance. He removed his hat and coat, and after hanging them on a chair, rolled up his sleeves and began removing the lids from the stove. Jack watched him for a moment, then took the bucket and went to the well. When he returned, his father had the fire going.

"Pretty quick work, Dad," he said.

"It's not the first time, my boy," his father answered, and then he asked: "Where's the coffee?"

"In the box on the wall; I'll get it in a minute," said Jack. But his minute was too long, for his father got the can and was measuring out a handful of the contents before Jack finished washing his hands.

Jack watched him prepare the coffee, after which he fried some bacon and eggs, located some stale sourdough bread, and taking Jack's table cloth from the table, set the dishes on the bare boards, and setting back the chairs, pulled up a bench and an empty box, and looking at Jack nodded toward the table and said:

"Grub's ready."

"Comin' up," answered Jack. "Want some butter?"

"Nope, not with bacon grease," replied the old gentleman.

After they sat down to the meal, Mr. Norton helped himself and remarked: "This is the life." He quaffed the steaming coffee with a relish, and looking across the table, asked suddenly:

"How about the girl, Jack, who are these Gullys?"

"I don't know, Dad," replied Jack in surprise. "I never saw them until I came here, but they are mighty fine people."

"Naturally," said his father, "but what makes you think so; the girl?"

"Not altogether," said Jack, "I have reasons to know."

"In what way?" asked his father.

"In more ways than one," was Jack's answer.

"Specify," said the old gentleman bluntly.

Then Jack told his father of his first meeting with Gully, of how he had sold Gully the lumber in his shack when he had become discouraged, and had then accompanied him to the harvest field, of how Gully had persuaded him to return and try once more, which he had done, and then when the contract for clearing the land was under consideration, Gully had taken him in on it and been the means of giving him a start.

He explained further that it had been under Gully's directions that he had accomplished the success he had, and when he had finished, his father asked:

"Is it out of gratitude for all this kindness that you propose to marry his daughter?"

"No," Jack replied.

"Don't you know," continued his father, "that in the station in life to which I can restore you, you can have your choice of hundreds of young ladies?"

"This is my station in life," replied Jack, "and the best thing about it, Dad, is that I did not have to have you put me here, and as for Ida, she does not know any other life, and I hope she never learns."

"Is this Miss Anderson a relative of theirs?" asked his father.

"No; just a friend who has taught this little school ever since I came here," answered Jack.

"A very able teacher," commented Mr. Norton.

"How do you mean?" queried Jack.

"This Miss Gully did not acquire her genteel manner from her parents, did she? And you say this is the only life she has ever known," said his father.

"Miss Anderson has taken a great deal of interest in Ida," said Jack, "and she learns very readily."

"Will you postpone this marriage until you have made final proof on your claim, and give me one year of your life?" asked his father.

"No, sir," Jack answered.

Burns Norton arose from the table and began to collect the soiled dishes and pile them together, and as he started for a pan in which to wash them, Jack said: "Let them go until morning, Dad." "All right, we'll go to bed then," answered the old gentleman, and the subject of the Gullys was not again referred to that night.

The following morning after Mr. Norton and Jack had eaten their breakfast they went out and walked over Jack's claim.

Mr. Norton asked him many questions about the climatic conditions and the possible future of the country. Jack answered his father as best he could, and handed him the paper he had prepared, giving an account of his experiences and observations, explaining to him that he had assembled the data contained therein for the express purpose of furnishing information to the owners of the land he and Mr. Gully had cleared, but added that he had no idea at the time who the owner would prove to be.

Mr. Norton glanced at the paper, and thanking Jack, said he would look it over. He took specimens of the soil and told Jack if things looked favorable he would arrange to have wells drilled on his land before returning to the South.

Jack assured his father that he would make no mistake in doing so, and upon hearing the auto horn, they turned and found that the car was awaiting them at Jack's house. After returning and arranging things for the day, Mr. Norton asked Jack how much time it would require to run over to his land, as he wished to see it in order to get an idea of what condition it was in and what improvements would be required.

Jack told him it would require but a few minutes, and they decided to go before returning to the Gully home, which they did, and while there Jack's father said to him:

"Jack, in view of the fact that you have made up your mind to marry this Miss Gully and remain on your property here, would you be willing to take charge of my interests?"

"Why, certainly, Dad!" Jack replied. "I only wish that I could grant your request to accompany you home for a year, but I am afraid I could not, in justice to all, do so."

Burns Norton turned to his son and taking him by the hand, said:

"I respect your feelings in this affair, Jack, and am glad that you gave me the answer that you did last night, for I feel now that you have a purpose in life, and the determination to see it through."

Jack simply said "Thank you, Dad," and they returned to the car and were driven directly to the Gully home.

It being Saturday, there was no school, and Miss Anderson, who had remained overnight at the Gullys, had not yet returned home when they arrived. She had been told of the occurrence of the day before, of how Jack and his father had been brought so unexpectedly together and the circumstances under which they had been separated, and when Mr. Norton and Jack entered the house upon their arrival she congratulated them on the happy event and expressed the hope that Jack's experience had taught him to confide in his father in the future.

Jack assured her that there would be no danger of a recurrence, as it would take him the rest of his life in his effort at strict obedience to atone for what he had done.

Mrs. Gully, with Miss Anderson's assistance, had prepared a splendid dinner, which they told Jack was a reunion dinner, gotten up especially for him and his father, and they were to be the guests of honor. His father, they told him, was to be seated at the head of the table and was to preside, and Jack was instructed that when dinner was announced he was to escort his father to the place assigned to him.

When dinner time arrived, Jack did as he was bidden and after they were all seated, he told his friends of how his father had played the typical bachelor homesteader while his guest the night before, and they suggested that they induce him to erect a shack on his land and become one of them.

They laughed heartily at Jack's description of his father as a cook, and agreed with him that it would be nice if he would stay.

Mr. Norton thanked them for their invitation, and said that nothing would suit him better, as he was fascinated with their country, and was sure that it had a great future; so much so, he added, that he had determined to improve his holding, and would probably acquire more.

"But," he continued, "I am an old man, and have interests in other parts of the world that require my attention, so I cannot remain with you. But while I am here I want to thank you, Mr. Gully, and your estimable wife for the interest you have taken in, and the kindnesses you have shown, my son, for I have been assured by him that it has been very largely due to your action and assistance that he has been able to make his achievements so great.

"He has also told me, as you know, of the honor your daughter has bestowed upon him by promising to become his wife. This knowledge is very gratifying to me, for as he has chosen to become a farmer, he has done wisely in selecting for his help mate one who is familiar with the life of a farmer, and at the same time one who possesses the grace and beauty that few are endowed with. I am proud of Jack's choice, and gladly welcome her as my daughter."

"I feel," he continued, "that under the guiding care of such worthy people as you and Miss Anderson, who Jack tells me has watched with patient care the shaping of their destinies, these young people have nothing to fear for the future.

"In a few days I shall return to my life, and I would like to change the plans of these young people and take them home with me for a while. It is but a few weeks until the date set for their marriage, and will cause but little inconvenience, and I want them with me. What do you say, Jack?" he asked.

Jack thought for a moment before replying, and then arising, he thanked his father for what he had said and told him that his proposition had come so unexpectedly they would have to ask time to talk it over, but as far as he was concerned, he thought it might be arranged.

"Very well," said his father, "let me know as soon as you have made up your minds, and I will tell you my plans."

After finishing their dinner, Mr. Norton remarked that he supposed he ought to send word to Mr. Palmer and the other members of the party that he would be delayed for several days, and give them an opportunity to come out and inspect the country and return to Spokane with the cars, if they so desired, and he called to the driver of the car he had been using to tell him of his wishes and have him drive to the village with his message.

As the driver came in response to his call, Jack asked his father if he would let him deliver his message.

Mr. Norton, knowing that Jack was an expert driver, gave his consent and dismissed the driver, telling him that young Mr. Norton would use the car during the afternoon, and turning to his son, gave him the message to deliver.

Jack listened attentively to his father's instructions, and when he had finished, went hurriedly into the house calling to Ida and the children to get their wraps and prepare for a ride to the village in the auto. The children eagerly sought their mother's permission to accompany Jack, and when this was given seized their wraps and joined Jack at the car, where he and the driver were discussing the merits of the machine.

Mr. Norton and Travis Gully had gone to the barn and were inspecting some of Gully's fine colts and discussing their points, a subject on which Jack's father was an enthusiast. Ida was accompanied out to the car by her mother and Miss Anderson. Jack expressed his regrets that there was not sufficient room in the car for them to go also, but he had unthoughtedly mentioned the trip to the children first, and now he could not disappoint them.

Mrs. Gully laughingly replied that she had waited until the present time without ever having ridden in an automobile, and she did not suppose that she would suffer by waiting a little while longer, but she added:

"I do propose to have you give me a ride before the car is taken back to Spokane."

Jack promised her a ride the following day, and after assisting Ida and the children in, jumped into the driver's seat, and just as he was starting Miss Anderson approached, and addressing he and Ida, who was seated by his side, said:

"Make up your minds about your father's proposition to accompany him home. I think it would be just simply delightful for you to do as he has suggested."

"What do you think, mother?" Jack asked, addressing Mrs. Gully.

"Just as you and Ida say," she replied.

"You mean just as Ida says," Jack corrected, and laughingly added: "I'm in with Dad on the proposition."

And with shouts of goodbye and with much waving of caps and hands they started for the village.

Mrs. Gully and Miss Anderson watched them for a few moments, and turning to go back into the house, Minnie Gully asked Miss Anderson her opinion of the early marriage of Jack and Ida.

"I do not see that having it occur a few weeks ahead of the appointed time would make any difference, and as Mr. Norton seems so anxious to have them accompany him home, I would be glad to see them agree to his proposition, but I believe I would leave the matter to them to decide."

Mrs. Gully agreed with her and added: "As we have made no provisions for their marriage I think should they decide to do as he asks, it would be best to allow them to accompany Mr. Norton to Spokane and have the ceremony performed there, and Ida be given an opportunity to prepare herself for the trip home with him."

"An excellent idea," answered Miss Anderson, "and it would be splendid if you would accompany them as far as Spokane, be present at the marriage, and assist Ida in her preparations."

Minnie Gully thought for a few moments before she replied to Miss Anderson's suggestion about her going and finally said:

"How about Travis and the children? Who would care for them while I am away."

"Don't worry about them; the other girls are plenty old enough to manage things for the few days that you would be away; and besides, I will be home, and I can come and assist them."

"Are you not going?" exclaimed Mrs. Gully, in dismay.

"I had not thought of going," answered Miss Anderson.

"Well, if I go you must accompany me," declared Mrs. Gully in a decisive tone.

"We will not discuss our plans until we have heard from Jack and Ida," Miss Anderson replied.

In the meantime Burns Norton and Travis Gully had walked down into the alfalfa field and had stopped and were earnestly discussing the future of the two young people. Not the plans for their approaching marriage, but of the bright prospects of this beautiful country in which they had chosen to make their start in life, and the splendid opportunities it afforded as compared with those that had been given to them when they were their ages.

Jack and his party reached the village in a very short time—as Joe expressed it, "by the time papa could have had the horses hitched to the wagon"—and upon their arrival Jack left them and sought Mr. Palmer, to whom he delivered his father's message. Mr. Dugan, who was on the street at the time and had seen their arrival, was at the car talking to Ida when Jack returned, and after greeting him Jack told him that the party would probably be out to Mr. Gully's the day following, and he was particularly anxious to have him come out, as he had a matter of importance to discuss with him. Dugan was much surprised at this request but promised to come.

Jack purchased a supply of candy and oranges for the noisy youngsters, and they returned home after making a detour of many miles.

It was almost dark when the auto party arrived home, and the children tumbled out of the car and ran into the house, all clamoring to tell of the delightful time they had enjoyed. Ida was assisted from the car by Jack, who was then preparing to drive over to his own home and care for his stock, when he was told by the driver that Mr. Gully and Mr. Norton had driven over in the buggy a short time before to look after things, and were expected to return at any time. Upon hearing this Jack joined the ladies in the house, and as he came in, he started in with the children telling of their wonderful ride, but seeing the inquisitive look on the faces of Mrs. Gully and Miss Anderson he asked them if Ida had not told them, of their decision?

They replied that they had not had time to talk with her since her return.

"Well, we're going with Dad," Jack announced.

"We are so glad," declared both ladies. "It will be such a delightful trip for you both."

They did not get to inquire further into their plans, as Mr. Norton and Gully came in from their trip to Jack's, and after supper was eaten Jack and Ida made known their decision, and agreed to abide by any arrangements their parents might make for their marriage and the trip.

CHAPTER XXII.

As for Jack, he had so far figured out the details of his plans for the wedding that he had persuaded Dugan to lay over in Spokane upon his arrival there until he and Ida joined him, at which time he would have Miss Anderson accompany them, and he wanted her and Dugan to attend them at the marriage. Dugan agreed to this, and he now knew what the important matter was of which Jack wished to speak. Jack, however, had said nothing of this arrangement, not even to Miss Anderson.

For the next few days Mrs. Gully and Miss Anderson's time was taken up in making preparations for Ida's departure. Old Mr. Norton entered a protest against any preparations whatever, it having been decided that Mrs. Gully's plan of having the marriage take place in Spokane being the most feasible, be adopted, and she and Miss Anderson were to accompany Ida. Mr. Norton insisted that all the necessary arrangements could be made after their arrival in the city.

The days before their departure were not only busy days for the ladies—the men too had all they could attend to.

Mr. Norton, after seeing the effect produced by the application of water on this land, and realizing how simple a matter it was to secure the necessary supply from the inexhaustable subterranean reservoir that underlay the territory that constituted the desert area, did not hesitate to invest a few thousand dollars in bringing about the reclamation of his land. He arranged before he left to have a well and pumping plant installed on each forty acres of his holdings.

Two of these wells were to be drilled during the winter that the work of developing the first two units of his project might start early the following spring. And he was farsighted enough to appreciate the fact that when these two units were brought into a state of productiveness they could be sold in fractions of ten acres each, which was sufficient land to keep one man occupied with intensive farming, for an increased value, sufficient to pay for the reclamation of the rest of his land.

This work he arranged for Gully to attend to until Jack's return, when they would both be busy looking after the project.

At last the day came for the departure of the party for the city, and all were ready and Ida and her mother had kissed each of the girls and Joe goodbye, and Jack had faithfully promised Joe that they would have an automobile when he returned, the party, consisting of Ida, her mother, Miss Anderson, Jack and his father, were driven to the station by Travis Gully, who saw them off on their trip and returned home to his lonesome children, who had never been left by their mother before.

Upon the arrival of the wedding party in Spokane they were met at the station by the thoughtful Dugan, who Jack had advised by telegram the time of their departure and the number in the party, and then upon seeing Dugan at the station, had evidenced as much surprise as the rest.

They immediately went to the hotel, where Dugan had engaged apartments for them, and that night Ida and her mother attended the theater for the first time in their lives. Miss Anderson, being escorted by Dugan, made the party complete.

Two days later Jack and Ida were quietly married in the parlor of the hotel where they had been stopping and Mr. Dugan and Miss Anderson were their attendants, just as Jack had planned. A few hours afterward they were on their way to Galveston under the care of Mr. Norton and Dugan, who occupied the smoking compartment, while the young couple were left alone to assume as much as was possible an air of indifference to the actions of their fellow passengers, who had in some mysterious way discovered the fact that a wedding had just occurred, and were enjoying themselves at the young couple's expense.

Mrs. Gully and Miss Anderson returned to their homes the following day, tired but happy and loaded down with trinkets, both useful and ornamental, which Mr. Norton, Jack and Ida had entrusted to their care for distribution among the family as a token of their best wishes.

Short messages and post cards mailed along the route were received from Jack and Ida in almost every mail, but it was nearly two weeks before the first real letter reached the home folks. They had been in Galveston for several days, but father Norton had kept them on the go so constantly they had not had time to write, and the letter, when it did come, was filled with accounts of their many trips and delightful time they were having. "Oh! mamma," wrote Ida. "Just think! I have been on board the 'Magnolia,' the very yacht on account of which Jack left home. There was some paint missing from the wheel, and Jack told me it was where he had worn it off in his effort to keep her off the point, but of course I know he was joking. He has promised me a trip in this very boat, if we get time, but I have made him agree to call the regular crew, and I mean to see that he does it too." Then after a bit she wrote: "I am just dying for one breath of burning sagebrush; everything here smells like fish or tar."

These letters from Jack and Ida always contained messages of love to Miss Anderson, who received them in quiet happiness, as if her life's work was completed when these young people were wedded.

Just a while after the Holidays Ida wrote: "By the time you receive this letter we will have started on our return trip. We leave here for New Orleans and from there we go to Chicago, and Jack has promised me one whole week or longer, if I want it, with grandpa and grandma, and Jack says he is going to bring them back with us."

When Minnie Gully received this letter she could hardly content herself, and immediately wrote to her parents notifying them of the coming of Jack and Ida, and renewed her plea for them to come.

Travis Gully was progressing nicely with the work Mr. Norton had arranged for him to have done, and the first well was almost complete when he came home from the Norton land one night and had just finished his supper, when hearing a call at the gate, he went out and was handed a package of mail by a neighbor who was returning late from the village. Going into the house, he looked over the several letters, found one for his wife from Ida, and handed it to her, saying: "See how the youngsters are."

Minnie Gully took the letter, and looking at the address, the date of mailing, and then carefully seeing if the stamp had been properly cancelled, just as most women do upon receiving a letter, opened it and read from Ida:

"We are well and happy; happy because we leave here tomorrow on the final stage of our journey home. And listen to what I am going to tell you, mother—grandpa and grandma are coming with us. This is no joke, for their baggage is at the depot and we are to stay at the hotel tonight. Jack said to please ask papa to meet us next Wednesday."

There was joy in that desert home that night. The final link in their chain of happiness was being forged, and would be welded the following Wednesday.

Travis Gully looked up and remarked: "Well, this is Monday night; day after tomorrow; it won't be long. It will soon come."

And it did. Gully, with his own family, met them at the station and those of the passengers who witnessed the meeting from the smoky car windows knew that happiness reigned in that little desert village for a time at least.

The following fall Mr. Norton and Dugan came back to attend Gully's making of final proof on his claim, at which time he proposed to celebrate. Why Dugan came was a question that was to be answered later, but it was a well known fact that Miss Anderson had been receiving numerous letters that bore a Texas postmark.

Burns Norton's project to irrigate one entire section of this desert land was well under way, and the success of the venture was so well assured that he had received many flattering offers from his capitalist friends who had accompanied him on his former trip, to purchase an interest in his holdings. These he promptly refused.

But the credit for the practical demonstrations that had grounded his faith in the future of the country he gave to Travis and Minnie Gully, the homesteaders.

THE END