David Lannarck, Midget: An Adventure StoryHarney, George S.
General
David Lannarck, Midget: An Adventure Story
Harney, George S.
Adventure stories; Circus -- Fiction; Western stories
"Well, what's your reaction, Laddie?" asked Welborn kindly as he
marked the serious look on Davy's face.
"Well, I don't know whether to sit out there on the porch and have a
good cry or go in the spare room and put up a small dance. For five
years I have been dreaming about this place, and now it's a reality.
Outside of dreaming about it, and in sober moments, I just knew that
there couldn't be such a place, so I contented myself with plans for a
little shack, maybe a teepee, or a tent where I could spread out and
rest up. But here it is--just like the dream said."
"Wal, jist wait till a good winter blizzard comes through here like
they do," interrupted Landy. "Jist wait, ye'll be sorry that ye ever
had a dream. Why, it's six thousand feet up here, and the wind don't
monkey and dally around, hit gits right down to business. Last winter
hit most took the leg off 'en one of them burros old Maddy brought in
here, 'en mighty nigh whipped the fillin' outen his shirt."
"Let her blow," retorted Davy. "I've been in two circus blow-downs,
and we had to stake the elephants down to keep 'em from blowing over
into Texas."
Landy was a good loser. He grinned, and began wrestling the trunks.
All of Davy's plunder was moved into the fireplace room.
"We will live in here this winter, and when spring comes, we can
expand into the other room or out on the porch," explained Welborn.
"And now, before you begin to unpack, I want you to see what Jim and I
have been doing this last week. Let's take a look at the pump and
engine before a snow comes and covers it all." Welborn led the way
down near the brink of the canyon. "Over on the other side of the
creek, you can see a shack. I headquartered there for several months
and panned out some dust. From there I could see this opening here
that looked like it had a floor, and maybe some prospects. Well, I
climbed those trees down by the creek, but could not quite see what I
wanted. As the madman was working over here, I climbed and slipped,
and cut steps in the rock face of the cliff, on yon side. I wormed and
twisted around until I got up to that coulee, and sure enough, it was
what I thought. The floor of the old stream bed that had been thrown
out of line and out of use, by some secondary action in
mountain-making.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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