The Land of Lure: A Story of the Columbia River BasinSmith, Elliott
General
The Land of Lure: A Story of the Columbia River Basin
Smith, Elliott
Frontier and pioneer life -- Fiction; Northwest, Pacific -- Fiction
The summer now being on, the heat of the sun was terrific, and no effort
was made to accomplish anything during the day. When trips to the
village became necessary the start was made early, and the home coming
frequently postponed until after sundown, to avoid as much as possible
the midday drive over the hot dusty roads. Rains were a thing of the
past now, and the desert began to assume its accustomed dry, parched
appearance. Many of the newcomers who had moved in during the early
spring, when conditions were most favorable, were now becoming alarmed,
and questioned the wisdom of their choice, and had it not been for the
positive evidence of the possibilities of the district as seen at the
Gully place, many of them would have become discouraged and given up in
despair.
To many of these unfortunates the village was the only source of
comfort. They would congregate there during the day and discuss the
various subjects pertaining to home building in the wilderness. Many of
them had had no experience at farming even under the most favorable
conditions, and these presented a most pitiful appearance and woebegone
manner. Fresh from within the confines of shop or office and launched
upon a life of hardships and exposure, upon a sea of blistering sands,
sizzling sagebrush and bunch grass, it was no wonder they blistered,
peeled, freckled and tanned and seemed to shrivel and slouch when they
had lain aside their neat fitting business suit and donned their
overalls. It was a cruel test of stamina and manhood, and a surprising
few that withstood it.
Many of the earlier settlers adhered to the belief that help would come
to them through irrigation, and the fact of the surveyors having been in
the field the summer before was related to the new settlers with
convincing arguments that it had to come. Still no one had ever heard
the slightest intimation of what the surveyors had accomplished in the
way of favorable results or the nature of their official report.
The fact of this silence was looked upon by many as a good omen, and
wild rumors were set afloat that the survey had been successful, and the
plans for the installation of the gigantic system were then being
prepared. On one occasion, while gathering driftwood along the shores of
the Columbia, a homesteader saw a man working among the rocky cliffs far
above him. He hastily drove home and reported his discovery to his
neighbors, who added their ideas to the importance of this discovery,
and by the next day it was a matter of common talk upon the streets of
the village that work had started on the foundation for a huge power
plant, to generate electricity for pumping. And so it went, every
mysterious move or unusual occurrence immediately became the subject for
speculation, and was supposed to have some bearing on the reclamation of
the land with which they were now battling to bring into a state of
productiveness.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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