POLLY IN THE SOUTHWEST [Illustration: ALGY MEASURED HIS FULL LENGTH UPON THE FLOOR.] POLLY IN THE SOUTHWEST BY LILLIAN ELIZABETH ROY AUTHOR OF POLLY OF PEBBLY PIT, POLLY AND ELEANOR, POLLY IN NEW YORK, POLLY AND HER FRIENDS ABROAD, POLLY’S BUSINESS VENTURE, POLLY’S SOUTHERN CRUISE, POLLY IN SOUTH AMERICA. ILLUSTRATED BY H. S. BARBOUR NEW YORK GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS Made in the United States of America Copyright, 1925, by GROSSET & DUNLAP CONTENTS I News from Dodo II Old Friends Once More III Dodo Joins the Ranks IV Jack and Algy Entertain V Impromptu Amusements VI Albuquerque Festivities VII Jack’s Valet Duties VIII Mr. Alexander’s Ruse IX Surprises All Around X Hold-ups Along the Way XI What Happened on Humphrey’s Peak XII Two Weeks Later XIII Dalky’s Story XIV Letters East and West XV Dalky Takes a Vacation XVI Arrivals in Los Angeles POLLY IN THE SOUTHWEST CHAPTER I NEWS FROM DODO Mr. Dalken’s southern cruise had come to an end, much to Polly’s and Eleanor’s regret. Though there had been discomforts and many unlooked for incidents throughout the voyage to the West Indies, and to both coasts of South America, the entire yachting party had thoroughly enjoyed the long pleasure trip. Now they were back in prosaic, old New York, with its eternal clatter and bang of hustling affairs, and the crush and rush of the mobs of strangers or the workers at recess hours; but they seemed to be tense and nervous at such metropolitan confusion. Mr. Dalken laughed, as he escorted his party from the _White Crest_, upon its arrival at the dock of the Yacht Club—every one seemed irritable and displeased with the city. “What an awful din!” exclaimed Eleanor, closing her ears with her forefingers. “I only wish we were back in Buenos Aires—they never make such a deafening racket there,” added Jack, frowning, as a pushcart owner bawled his wares directly back of the young dandy’s ear. Jack’s friends laughed appreciatively at the foreigner’s timely shout, and Jack scowled at the unconscious offender. Then, as if to provide still more amusement for the members of the party,—excepting Jack, of course,—the Italian tried to avoid a mud-puddle in the asphalt, just as the young New Yorker sprang lightly over it. The result was Jack collided with the rickety cart, which was filled with over-ripe bananas and lemons. The unexpected blow from the corner of the cart sent Jack sprawling upon the street, and the pyramid of fruit descended instantaneously upon him, then bounced in every direction, giving the ever-present street urchins an unusual treat. Eleanor, the irrepressible, began to sing: “Yes, we have no bananas,” but this ridiculous ditty failed to calm Jack’s annoyance. The laughter from not only his friends, but from every one who had witnessed the funny episode, made him turn upon the outraged vendor. “What do you mean, by running me down like that?” demanded Jack, glaring at the still petrified foreigner. As though this demand loosed the pent-up torrent of the man’s grief, he deluged the cosmos with his heart-wrung lamentations. Mr. Dalken and Mrs. Courtney understood Italian, and they could sympathize with the poor man, whose tale of woe might have melted a stone image. Even Jack could not cope with the volubility of the peddler. Finally, Mr. Dalken stepped over and took out his wallet. Instantly, the bereaved man’s face changed its expression, and his voice died down to a murmur of anticipation. “Here’s a ten dollar bill, my man. See to it that your eleven children, now dependent upon your fruit-sales, are comfortably fed to-day. You say they have had nothing to eat for three days—not even such bad fruit as you have on sale—so I am sending this to them.” As he handed the money to the vendor, the Italian broke forth in a new strain—one of heaping blessings upon the great monseigneur, the bounteous gentleman! “I just know he will pick up every lemon and black banana he can find the moment we are out of sight!” declared Nancy Fabian, smiling as she touched upon the truth. “_I_ wouldn’t have been so easy, Dalky,” grumbled Jack, trying to remove some of the dirt from his coat. “I wasn’t spending my money, Jack—don’t worry over that! I thought, seeing that you caused the trouble, that I would apply a part of your quarterly income to assuage the misery of the father of eleven little New Americans,” explained Mr. Dalken. The blank look of disgust upon Jack’s face brought forth another ripple of laughter at his expense. Thus teasing the young man in the party, and laughing or talking eagerly of everything they saw, the four girls followed their elders to the subway station. But I anticipate: perhaps you are not acquainted with these happy young friends, who just came from the beautiful private yacht, the _White Crest_! In order to introduce you, before the girls proceed to Mr. Dalken’s apartment where they were to have luncheon that day, I will leave them for a short time during their ride on the subway. Polly Brewster, the favorite in Mr. Dalken’s group of young friends, had been born and raised in Colorado. Her home, a great ranch located in the crater of an extinct volcano known upon the map as “The Devil’s Grave,” had been renamed by Rancher Brewster, “Pebbly Pit,” because of the marvelous Rainbow Cliffs which formed one of the boundary walls of the crater. These cliffs were composed of great masses of colored stones, which were readily broken from the towering wall. All about the foot of the cliffs were scattered tons of these shining pebbles. At the back of the wall ran the queer formations of lava which took grotesque forms, such as statues of men and animals. This undulating stretch of hardened lava became known to the surrounding ranchers as “The Imps” and the “Devil’s Causeway.” Since Polly had left her western home to study a course of interior decorating in New York City, the Rainbow Cliffs and the mass of hardened lava which extended far back of the colored, pebbly wall had been transformed by modern machinery set up on the grounds, to cut the lava-jewels into marketable gems. This work, started after the group of wide-awake financiers headed by Mr. Dalken had seen the great possibilities in the stones, now provided most of the income by which Polly, as well as some of her friends, found it possible to travel luxuriously wherever inclination invited them. This powerful company might never have been formed, had not circumstances developed from that first meeting of Eleanor Maynard and Polly Brewster, at the Colorado ranch where Eleanor went to spend the summer. But, then, you must read that story called “Polly of Pebbly Pit,” if you would know how Anne Stewart, the teacher, took Eleanor and her sister Barbara out of their society atmosphere in Chicago, and suddenly transported them to the simple but wholesome life of a ranch. And then, how Polly took her new friends for a trip to Grizzly Slide, where they encountered the terrific blizzard which was instrumental in leading them willy-nilly into a gold-mine. The gold-mine, so thrillingly discovered, eventually founded the beginning of Polly and Eleanor’s introduction to the world—a world of New York adventures, European travels, business experiences, and touring or cruising with their millionaire, self-appointed guardian, “Dalky,” in company with other chosen friends. The last tour Mr. Dalken had planned and carried out very successfully was the Southern Cruise, with the Fabians, the Ashbys, John Baxter,—always called “Jack”—and the two girls, Polly and Eleanor, with their intimate friend and chaperon, Mrs. Courtney. Nancy Fabian and Ruth Ashby had been members of Polly and Eleanor’s party in Europe, hence they seemed very much like girls in one family—so intimately acquainted had they all become with each other. We left Polly and her circle of friends on board the _White Crest_, just after it had resumed its homeward voyage from Cayenne, and now, in this present book of adventures, we meet the girls after landing in New York City. They may have been glad to get home, to replenish a limited wardrobe such as they had been advised to take on board the yacht, when she sailed from New York for the South American tour; but they also felt poignant regret at having to say good-by to the good times they had had. Consequently, the four girls, to say nothing of Jack, sat about Mr. Dalken’s large dining-table, after their elders had left the room to discuss politics and current events of New York City. They were wondering whether Dalky would feel disposed to invite them again on board his yacht, should he return to Colombia, in company with Mr. Fuzzier, to inspect the plans of the great railroad and canal system which the group of financiers had developed during their voyage between Cayenne and New York. “Well, now, girls,” ventured Jack Baxter, “I’ll promise you this much—if Dalky will consent to my sharing an interest in this new project of his, I will move heaven and earth to include you in the prospecting party. But there must be no frills or furbelows, understand? In fact, I’m sure you’ll have to travel minus cold cream and beauty make-up, on such a tramp to the interior—it will mean riding-breeches and such, to facilitate progress through the Amazon jungle, no doubt.” Since no one took Jack seriously, the girls now laughed at his grave expression and businesslike tone. It was not compatible with their knowledge of Jack, to believe him in earnest about this new mining scheme of the group of capitalists—a scheme that meant hard work and many sacrifices of luxuries and comforts. Jack had never been known to give up his lazy self-indulgences, hence the girls’ laughter. A short time after the older members in the party had left the luncheon table, Mr. Dalken returned with a great sheaf of letters in his hand. In the other hand he held an open sheet of paper, which he had been reading just before entering the dining-room. “Well, children, here’s news, all right! I had my mail for the past week held here to await my return to the city; and now, with other letters which had not been forwarded since we left Cayenne, I find a letter from Ebeneezer Alexander—Dodo’s father, you know.” “Oh, yes!” was the chorus to this announcement, and the four girls, as well as Jack, expressed eager interest in the contents of the letter. “He writes me a few personal bits of information regarding certain mining interests we have in common in Arizona, and then he goes on to report favorably on the gold mine at Choko’s Find. He seems to have solved the problem of getting at the vein without starting a landslide every time one winks at the peak. He is enthusiastic and tremendously interested in the possible outcome of his investigations and makes expert miner’s suggestions to John Brewster and Tom Latimer. If the tests he now has under way, prove to be reliable experiments, our troubles over the Lost Claim may be buried and forgotten. That leaves us free for new troubles.” Mr. Dalken smiled as he explained this much of the letter, and, finding his audience about to storm him with questions, he held up a hand for silence, and anticipated some of the queries about to be made. “I know—you all want to know about Dodo! Is she with her Dad at the ranch in Colorado? or is she home with her mother? Is she as enthusiastic over interior decorating as ever—or has she deserted the ranks, for a beau? Is she willing to join an expedition to the North Pole, or will she prefer to spend her millions in eating bon bons and growing obese like her mother? All of which I cannot answer, but which you girls may have the opportunity to ask personally very soon, provided you can be induced to turn your backs upon New York’s charm, and give your enlivening company to a sear, old man like me.” “What do you mean, Dalky?” demanded Nancy Fabian. “Is this an invitation to go somewhere?” asked Ruth Ashby. “Dalky—are we off for another adventure?” exclaimed Eleanor Maynard, eagerly. “Oh! Dalky is going west to inspect the mines, and he wants us to go with him!” declared Polly, clasping her hands, anxiously. Jack said nothing, because he knew he would learn sooner by keeping quiet. And he was right in his surmise. “Polly comes nearer the truth than you realize; but I’m sure she has Choko’s Find and the Rainbow Cliffs in mind, when she refers to the ‘mines’; but I have the mines of Southern Arizona mentioned here in this letter—and those are the ones I will have to visit without loss of time. In fact, I should have joined Alexander more than three weeks before this, but I failed to receive his cable which was sent to Rio de Janeiro. Possibly we had just left there before it arrived. Now, however, there is no excuse for my dallying in New York when tremendous interests depend upon my personal visit to certain holdings out west. You all know of the plans on foot, to incorporate a land company to exploit and open up the interior of the northern section of South America, and as stock-holders in that company organized on board the _White Crest_, you appreciate the necessity of unlimited capital. Mr. Alexander’s letter offers me a remarkable method of securing necessary funds for the work that Mr. Fuzzier and I hope to launch very shortly. Hence, my haste in saying farewell to New York again, and taking my little kit-bag and starting west. How I should long to have agreeable company with me—provided such friends could be prevailed upon to pass up a shopping season in New York. I shall bear no grudge against the attractive shops, however, should my feminine contingent decide in favor of new styles and ravishing gewgaws.” “Oh, Dalky!” rebuked Nancy Fabian. “You know better than that, Dalky!” remonstrated Ruth. “I’m ready to start west on the Twentieth Century—leaves at two-twenty,” declared Eleanor, positively, causing all to laugh at her. “How fortunate, Dalky, that your plans fit in so nicely with my own,” remarked Polly, a twinkle in her eyes. “I am about to go home to visit my family, and to judge for myself how the climate of Arizona agrees with Dodo.” Mr. Dalken laughed outright. Then Jack cleared his throat and murmured: “Yes; Polly was speaking to me confidentially, not two minutes before you joined us, of the pleasure it would give her if I would use my persuasive powers in inducing you to consider our invitation to visit Pebbly Pit.” The stares from the girls made Mr. Dalken laugh again, but he hastened to reply to his ward’s invitation. “Fine, Jack! I always try to save a dollar, in order to have the more to spend upon other things; now I shall gladly avail myself of this agreeable and convenient invitation, thereby saving all the expense of a western journey. But you do not say how far nor how long this invitation is to last me. Am I to infer that you propose paying all my expenses throughout the western trip?” Jack was equal to his guardian’s question. “The invitation we had in mind to extend to you is for a visit to Pebbly Pit. Nothing was said about expenses of getting there, or of getting back again. It is immaterial to the host and hostess how their guests arrive—by air, rail or afoot. Therefore I would advise you to take enough carfare to insure you a seat in a train, in case your cross-country walking grows too fatiguing.” The girls now laughed in their turn, and Mr. Dalken added: “Who will pay your fare—you have overdrawn your quarterly account, you know, by running down that poor fruit peddler.” “I have a plan which will provide for all my needs during the next few months, and render the greatest service to a friend, at the same time,” was Jack’s surprising news. “Indeed! May I ask what that plan is?” asked his guardian. “You may, since you are the friend I hope to serve.” “I may be the friend, but I doubt whether your services are very helpful to me—I judge entirely by past services, understand?” retorted Mr. Dalken, gazing quizzically at the young man. Jack tilted back in his chair, and thrust his hand down into his trousers pockets; then he glanced impishly up at his guardian. “Why, I’ve discovered how necessary a valet is to your comfort and decent appearance in public, and I have applied for and accepted the position as valet to your respected self. That engagement includes all traveling expenses of mine, and leaves you ample time and leisure to enjoy your journey with these young ladies. It is an ideal combination.” Jack’s plans, inspired upon the moment’s demand, provided fun and laughter for some time thereafter. Mr. Dalken had to sit down, he laughed so heartily at the very idea of his ward doing any kind of service for another. But Polly, by her remark, put Jack on his mettle. “If I were Dalky, I’d make you live up to that agreement—there are four witnesses to what was said, and you ought to prove what stuff is in you, then you can win Dalky’s consent to your going to South America with our other boys, when Mr. Fuzzier is ready to launch his land-operations.” “Of course I meant what I just said, Dalky,” insisted Jack. And to his utter amazement his guardian took him at his word. “Done, Jack! You go west with me, to attend to my wants and to receive for your valet services all expenses and a hundred dollars a month. For that, I shall expect you to look after my comforts, the traveling accommodations, hotel suites, autos, and what-not. You may have every other Sunday off for yourself, and an evening once a week. All your other time belongs to me—not even a chance for a little flirtation with a pretty girl on the train, or out on the deserts of Arizona.” “And how about the girls you take with you—any chance for Jack to say a word to them, now or then?” laughed Eleanor. “That depends! If such words do not conflict with my own, I may overlook the unusual behavior on the part of a valet.” Mrs. Courtney now entered the room, and wanted to know what could be so absorbing that no one at the table had heard the summons from those in the living-room. Before she could quite conclude her questioning, an avalanche of explanations overwhelmed her. In the confusion of voices, she could not get the drift of what it meant, so Mr. Dalken led her back to the other room and there he explained to his friends what he had told the girls—and he added, he had secured five companions for his western journey. It would develop, as soon as he had outlined his trip, how many more wished to accompany him. In another moment, he was the center of interest, and all was hushed in anticipation of what was about to be revealed. CHAPTER II OLD FRIENDS ONCE MORE In spite of persuasions, threats, and prophecies of good times to be missed, the Ashbys and Fabians could not be induced to join the proposed party to the Southwest. Mr. Ashby declared that he would have to attend strictly to business after his long vacation, or Polly and Eleanor would have the opportunity for which they said they were waiting—the chance to succeed Mr. Ashby in his enviable shops. Naturally, learning that her husband would not think of leaving the city, Mrs. Ashby was firm in the decision to remain home, too. Ruth did not wish to leave her mother, so that eliminated the three Ashbys from Mr. Dalken’s list. The Fabians were not to be cajoled into going west with the rest of their friends, because they maintained that New York, being their home, was the place for them to recuperate after the delightful though lazy life on board the yacht. Mr. Fabian said that laziness was a disease which must be cured by hard work for a time, if his family hoped to live during the approaching winter. Nancy found keen enjoyment in being with her old friends again, and so she preferred to remain in the city. Consequently Mr. Dalken’s party consisted of Polly and Eleanor, with Mrs. Courtney as chaperon, and Jack Baxter. Mr. Dalken, of course, since he was the prime leader on this tour. Where they would eventually find themselves, no one knew, because that had not yet been revealed to any one. “All we now know is this,” laughed Mr. Dalken, the last night the friends met at his apartment to bid the travelers good-by, “that we are on our way, and that way may criss-cross the country many times before we reach California.” “But you promised us that we should see California, Dalky, because there is where we are dying to go,” exclaimed Eleanor. “California is a great state, my child,” declared Jack, paternally; “and Hollywood is but one small section of it. I should not blame poor Dalky, in the least, if he led you three aspirants for the screen _away_ from Hollywood, instead of _to_ it.” This was in the light of a revelation. “Ah!” laughed Mr. Dalken, “now I understand why this intense eagerness to visit California for an extended time. But let me warn you, fair ones—I shall see to it that I am not deprived of my traveling companions just at the time I shall have leisure to enjoy their society. Forewarned is forearmed, you know.” “Yes,” retorted Polly, “that adage is as good for us as for you, Dalky.” “Besides,” added Mrs. Courtney, shaking an accusing finger at Jack, “it was that valet’s own proposition that we remain in Hollywood long enough to have a fling at a movie! He thinks his handsome person may find fame and fortune in posing before the cameras.” The laugh now turned upon Jack, and he had no denial ready. Thus, laughing and joking, the little group passed a merry evening, until the Ashbys said it was time to say good-by and start for home. Soon Mr. Dalken was left alone with Jack to complete the last few items of their packing. The following day found all baggage on the way west, and Mr. Dalken, with his party, on board the Chicago Express, leaving New York behind. When the forms upon the platform became a blurred spot, Polly and Eleanor returned from the observation platform and sat down with their friends, Mr. Dalken, Mrs. Courtney and Jack. “Well, here we are,” declared Eleanor, “not a month since we landed in the city, and off again for another jaunt.” “I only hope this trip will prove to be as enlightening to you young ladies as the last one must have been,” Jack replied. “Enlightening! I do not understand you,” said Polly. “Oh, geographically, I mean! You must admit, girls, that your ideas of South America were completely reversed. Did you dream of finding such transportation systems as we enjoyed—from Lake Titicaca to La Paz, for instance? And then to behold such vast tracts of nerve tonic as Nolla found up in the nitrate fields.” The merry laugh which followed this remembrance,—now a funny experience of the past, but once a most painful incident of traveler’s luck—launched memory in reviewing other laughable episodes, and many a smile and giggle drew the attention of other passengers in the Pullman to the happy group. After a delicious dinner in the dining-car, Mr. Dalken led his protégés back to their compartments once more. Then he showed them the sketch of a map he had made before deciding finally on this journey. “You can see by this map that we propose to stay in Chicago for a few days, while I interview Fuzzier and his capitalists about the Land Development Company. During those few days Eleanor will have an opportunity to visit her home and family, and the others may visit the Public Library and ascertain where the richest veins of ore can be found in Arizona. It may prove advantageous, in case you decide to stake claims which the United Verde Company overlooked.” Mr. Dalken traced the pencil-line upon the paper, from Chicago to Flagstaff, Arizona, and then showed his audience where the Verde was to be found. “But, Dalky, you do not propose to go straight to Arizona, after leaving Chicago, do you?” asked Polly, wonderingly. “Not unless you have good reasons to avoid going to Pebbly Pit,” returned he, trying to control a smile, as he thought of Tom Latimer eagerly awaiting Polly’s arrival. Polly frowned. “The main reason of wanting to visit home was the longing to see mother and father, and John and Anne.” “Oh, yes! I see,” teased Jack. “Sary and Jeb have no part in your life, and the star-boarder at Pebbly Pit has been forgotten, eh?” By “star-boarder,” Jack referred to Tom, who, with John, had remained on the premises to guard and superintend the mines and their output. Polly flushed angrily, and Mrs. Courtney, thinking that the teasing was becoming too personal, quickly changed the subject, by saying: “Time to retire, I see. The porter wants to make up the berths.” Every individual in their party had been flying around during the past few days, and now that all necessity for haste and hurry was over they felt the reaction. Hence, Mrs. Courtney’s suggestion to retire was hailed without protest. There may have been those on that train that passed a sleepless night, but not so with any one in the Dalken group. The next morning they realized that Chicago was nearer than they had thought possible, because so much time had been given to sleep. So, when Jack laughingly played the part of valet and gathered up the bags in order to hand them to the colored porter, the girls gazed from the windows to assure themselves that they were really pulling in at the Chicago terminal. Mr. Maynard had been wired that his daughter and others in her party were to arrive in Chicago on the noon train, and the moment they stepped from the car, he was seen to be awaiting them. In another moment, Eleanor was being smothered against a broad, fatherly breast, and the other friends were smiling sympathetically at Mr. Maynard’s joy. “Well, well, well! Where is my little tom-boy? I here behold a tall, up-to-date young woman, whom I almost dread to hug,” exclaimed Mr. Maynard, holding Eleanor off at arm’s length. “Nothing of the kind!” retorted Eleanor, making a dive and throwing both arms about her father’s neck. “If you have any compunction about hugging in public, your daughter hasn’t!” “I can verify that, Mr. Maynard,” added Mr. Dalken, smiling, to hide his own feelings as he thought of his daughter, Elizabeth, and her habitual aversion to him and his affection. “We find it very embarrassing, at times, to control Nolla’s desire to hang about our dignified necks.” “Pooh!” was all the answer vouchsafed him. But Mr. Maynard laughed happily—he would have laughed at any silly thing, so glad was he to have his pet with him again. The days in Chicago passed swiftly by for those who were to continue on their way to Pebbly Pit. Mr. Maynard gave every moment of his time to his guests,—they had been induced to accept his hospitality, instead of going to a hotel,—and Mr. Dalken found ample time in which to discuss finance with Mr. Fuzzier and the select group of bankers he had interested in his plans to develop the interior of Colombia. Mr. Maynard had already heard the inside information of the scheme, and he had signed up to join the speculators in this vast undertaking. Finally came the day when Eleanor said good-by to her parents and friends again, and the eager members of Mr. Dalken’s party started on their way to Pebbly Pit. How familiar seemed the prairie lands to Polly, as the train steamed across the vast plains, and began to approach Denver! Then came a hasty change from the Chicago Express to the local for Oak Creek, and at last the travelers were on the final ride of that journey to Polly’s ranch-home. More than a year had passed since Polly had visited the mining settlement, where the train stopped to accommodate passengers for and from the surrounding country-side. And in that year great progress had been made in the growth and improvement of the place. Polly was astonished to see the mushroomlike rapidity with which the two-story houses had replaced the shacks of the old town; and now streets were laid out and lighted for the convenience of towns-folk, as well as for the ranchers. The Brewsters had come in full force to welcome the expected friends, and joyous were the shouts of the young people, when all were gathered upon the railway platform. In fact, so eager seemed every one in that circle that no one paid heed to what the others said—but each one laughed and talked effusively without regard to subject. Two huge ranch-wagons had been requisitioned to hold the happy individuals now about to drive to Pebbly Pit; nor did any one notice the rough trail, nor the long trip, before the first glimpse of Rainbow Cliffs came to view. Here Polly found the greatest change in her old environment: the great grinding mill, the shafts which worked the apparatus used in moving the tons of stones to the mills, and the small railroad train and tiny engine which transported the rough jewels to the packinghouse. And all this activity was well hidden from the sight, by the natural depression of the Devil’s Causeway, with the peaks called “The Imps” standing in front like a screen. Polly seemed genuinely glad to see Tom Latimer again, and Tom’s heart leaped high when he realized that his beloved seemed inclined to treat him kindly once more. Tom had been taking lessons of Anne, since his farewell to Polly at Palm Beach—now seemingly such a long time ago! And it promised a relieved frame of mind for Polly, if Tom would but adhere to Anne’s repeated advices and instructions to him. That remained to be seen! [Illustration: SARY CAME BOUNDING OUT TO MEET THEM.] As the ranch-wagons stopped at the wide porch of the solidly-built house which Polly remembered so well, Eleanor and she gazed in wide-eyed astonishment at the _smallness_ of the structure. It had been remembered as being a large, low building; but after all their tours of Europe, South America, and the recent views of the New York and the Chicago sky-scrapers, Polly’s old home seemed almost too small to accommodate all these visitors. Sary came bounding out of the kitchen door, much the same Sary as the one who had welcomed Eleanor and her sister the day they first arrived at Pebbly Pit. Then Jeb shuffled up with a sheepish expression to greet the new-comers. Mr. Dalken knew just how to reach the hearts of others, and he shook hands with Sary and Jeb, saying, as he did so, that he had a token from South America for them in his baggage. That gave him the place of honor, during that visit to the ranch. Mr. Alexander had been at the gold mine all that week, and John explained to the eager questioners that he would be back the following morning. He had been determined to attend personally to such interests at Choko’s Find as might be bettered by his presence and expert advice; and, since he would be absent so long on the proposed trip to Arizona, he thought it best to forego the pleasure of being present when the guests arrived at the ranch. The next two weeks sped swiftly by, and then came the time when, business conferences over between the men, the Dalken party, with Mr. Alexander taking the place of guide instead of Mr. Dalken, were on the eve of departure for Arizona and new adventures in the southwest. “We’ll be wondering what you are doing to-morrow, this time,” remarked Polly, _apropos_ of her mother’s saying that the place would seem deserted after the young folks had gone. “Tom will be able to keep us informed upon those points,” was Mr. Alexander’s reply. “He is well-acquainted with the ranch-rule, and all we have to do, when we need information, will be to ask him what time the folks do this, or what are the home-people doing now.” Polly looked surprised and failed to grasp Mr. Alexander’s meaning. Eleanor must have sensed it, however, for she quickly exclaimed: “Will Tom be sitting at a radio-instrument, or does he carry a pocket-telephone around with him, that he can answer the moment we wish to call him up?” She laughed, but her words showed she wished to be given a cue to Mr. Alexander’s speech. “Why, no! Tom will be right beside you to reply, if you are kind enough to permit it,” explained Mr. Dalken. “Tom! You don’t mean he is going with us, do you?” asked Polly, too amazed to disguise her annoyance. At this tone, Tom forgot Anne’s wise admonitions and flared up in anger. “Yes, I am! I find that every one but you seems anxious to have my company on this excursion, because they understand that I am of some value to them. However, that need not interfere with _your_ happiness,—I’ll take mighty good care not to come within ten rods of you, when it can be helped!” Polly was so astonished at Tom’s irritation and his words that she stared at him in silence. Eleanor almost laughed outright at the expression upon her chum’s face. Jack mumbled something about “The worm hath turned,” and Mrs. Courtney gave him a vicious dig in the ribs to silence him. Then she whispered behind Polly’s back: “You’ll go and ruin everything, you rascal!” Tom now got up and, saying “Good-night,” stalked from the room. No one saw him again that evening, and in the early morning, when the heavy wagon drew up to the steps for the visitors, Tom was already seated beside Jeb. It developed, then, that he had said good-by to the Brewster family before the Dalken party had appeared for breakfast. During the long drive over the trails which led to Oak Creek, Tom devoted his attention to Jeb. When the wagon pulled up at the horse-trough near the station, Tom shook hands with Jeb and sprang down to assist Mrs. Courtney in alighting. Then he escorted her to the platform and stood conversing with her until the local steamed into the station. He had not spoken a word to Polly since the previous evening. In the train, he seated himself beside Mrs. Courtney and entertained her with accounts of the tremendous undertaking of safely mining the gold ore from Choko’s Find on Grizzly Slide. In fact, so well did he fulfill his part, that that lady voted him one of the most intelligent and courteous young men she had ever met. At the same time she could not understand how Polly Brewster could help loving Tom with all her heart. He was handsome, well-bred, highly educated, and had all the money a girl might crave—and best of all, he had loved her with the earnestness, persistence, and whole-mindedness of his one-track heart. “Well, I’m going to see to it that that girl has her eyes opened during this trip!” thought Mrs. Courtney to herself. But Polly and Eleanor were whispering between themselves, and their plotting might be considered along the same lines as those of the chaperon. Mr. Dalken, engrossed with Mr. Alexander, had left the girls to choose between Jack’s society or exchange personal confidences; they chose the latter as being the lesser of two tiresome evils. Hence Jack went forward to smoke, and the two girls began to plan just how they might bring about a settled state of affairs between Mrs. Courtney and their dear friend, Mr. Dalken. “We ought to have clean sailing in the next few months, Nolla,” said Polly. “No other man or woman to interfere in the match, you know.” “But Dalky will be so taken up with schemes, and going off to investigate holes in the ground, that Mrs. Courtney will feel disgusted.” “‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder,’” quoth Polly, laughing. “Just because he won’t always be at beck and call, and because he compares so favorably with other men, it will be an incentive to her love—if she feels any.” “If! There’s that awful ‘if’ in the way!” sighed Eleanor. “Well, anyway, Nolla, we ought to be able to find out one of two things on this western trip—whether she does love him, or whether she doesn’t! I’m not so sure but that daily companionship on board a private yacht is coma to spontaneous love. You can always tell, from day to day, just what is about to happen, and who will be in the party. Now, out here, where great things occur frequently, these two may discover how dear each is to the other. I’ve known hurricanes, land-slides, and little things like that, to be instrumental in opening the eyes of lovers.” Polly spoke as though the “trifles” just mentioned were casual incidents in a westerner’s life. Eleanor laughed. “I’m from the Windy City, Poll, but I’m sure we wouldn’t consider a hurricane or an Omaha cyclone ‘little things’ to help on a love-affair. Better let nature take its course.” So plotted two pairs of match-makers: the two girls on the one side, and Mrs. Courtney and Tom (who felt intuitively that he had a champion in her) on the other side. Which pair would win the first place, in successfully bringing about an understanding, in regard to the others remained to be seen—there also remained the long winter in balmy Arizona, during which the two affairs might thrive splendidly. Who could tell? CHAPTER III DODO JOINS THE RANKS Back in Denver once more, Mr. Alexander found a telegram awaiting him. In it he read that his wife and daughter would leave Colorado Springs and planned to arrive in the city that same evening, as Mrs. Alexander had unexpectedly decided to join the travelers to Arizona. “Now, what d’ye think of that?” exclaimed little Mr. Alexander, snapping the telegram with impatient fingers. “It’s all right for Dodo to come, but my wife isn’t used to roughin’ it—least-ways, she don’t care for it, since we got so much money to spend.” “Oh, I shall enjoy having another woman help me to keep all the girls in order,” remarked Mrs. Courtney, pleasantly. “Don’t fool yourself, Madam—my wife isn’t goin’ to be much help in lookin’ after others. She demands all the lookin’ after for herself. I gen’ally see to it that she has a lady’s maid to wait on her—that lets me out of buttonin’ her boots, and runnin’ here and there like a beast of burden, to take or carry her shawl, or parasol, or smellin’ salts. Since she’s takin’ to golf and tennis, it’s her golf-bag or the tennis racquet I’m expected to carry. I’m sorry to have to explain so much of my family troubles to you, Madam, but you must know that I hate to play caddie, though my wife says I resemble one.” The humility and meekness of the little man made Mrs. Courtney feel as though she must stand by him in some way—just as Polly’s friends had felt, as soon as they had grown to understand him on that European tour. “If you really wish to secure a competent lady’s maid for your wife, maybe I might help you in seeking for one in the city to-day,” ventured Mrs. Courtney, though she realized what a social error she was committing in offering to engage a maid for another woman. “Oh, say! If you’d do that for me, Madam, I’ll never forget it. I want to give my time to Mr. Dalken and the men we hope to meet here in Denver and, later on, in Prescott. If Mrs. Alexander demands my attention, how can I serve two masters?” appealed the little man. “Just tell me the kind of maid I ought to hire, and I’ll move heaven and earth to find one for you,” promised Mrs. Courtney; at the same time she wondered what had come over her to make her step into another woman’s place in this way, and thus force that woman to give the husband all the spare time he craved to attend to business affairs. But Mrs. Courtney had no idea that she was acting because of her deep interest in the South American land plans, in which Mr. Dalken had not only committed himself as well as his keen business brain, but also had signed for great blocks of stock that would bankrupt him should the scheme fail. “It _must not_ fail!” said Mrs. Courtney, vehemently, to herself. Thus it came to pass that Polly and Eleanor were invited to accompany their chaperon to one of the best employment offices in Denver that same afternoon of their arrival at the hotel. And to their amusement, they heard and saw Mrs. Courtney interrogate several maids, believing as she did, that maids out west must be much like maids in New York. She was soon informed to the contrary however. To her questions of “Can you dress hair stylishly?” “Do you wash and mend laces neatly?” “Are you experienced in manicuring?” “and in preparing the bath?” and other personal attentions, she heard to her surprise: “I kin darn socks, lady”; or “I have sewed clothes sence I was knee-high to a prairie-dog”; or, perhaps, the applicant would explain, “I ain’t no common general worker, lady, but I kin do plain cookin’, er lend a hand at the wash-tub, when it’s called for. I even will agree to het the water fer the baths, ef so come yuh-all need it that way.” Hence the polished society woman from the East had to confess herself vanquished in her effort to help Mr. Alexander provide a lady’s maid for his wife. On the way back to the hotel Polly made a suggestion which Eleanor thought would prove very exciting, if not practical, for Mrs. Alexander’s future peace and personal comfort. “Why waste time in finding a maid for Dodo’s mother when we can get a first-class Indian servant, who will cook, pack, wash, and do everything else for the men, when they have to camp in the mountains; then he can work for Mrs. Alexander, when the men are with us and have no need of the Guide.” “But, Polly, Mrs. Alexander will not need an Indian to cook or wash for her—she wants a maid to look after her comfort in the hotels along the beaten track,” argued Eleanor. “If she annexes herself and her wardrobe trunks to our select party, she’ll have to put up with discomforts in Arizona, even as we are willing to do,” declared Polly, impatiently. “Well, I’ve done all I could to smooth away the obstacles from little Mr. Alexander’s pathway—now it is up to his wife to find her own maid,” complained Mrs. Courtney. That evening Eleanor amused the men by describing the visit at the employment office and the interviews with sundry maids. Mr. Alexander felt deeply obliged to Mrs. Courtney, but she begged him to forget it, since she had not succeeded as she had promised him. About eight o’clock that same evening, a commotion outside the hotel entrance announced the arrival of Mrs. Alexander and her daughter. This time, the commotion was caused by the taxi running head on into a costly limousine which was waiting for its owner. Not only the scene between the two chauffeurs, but also the hysterical screams from the lady inside the cab, drew a crowd that refused to be dispersed until an officer came running up to arrest the culprits—should he find any. Jack and Tom had been the first of the loungers in the hotel-lobby to hurry to the street and watch the altercation between the two drivers; but the moment they saw Dodo gazing anxiously from the taxi window, they sprang across the sidewalk and quickly opened the door. “Thank goodness, Jack, you’re here to get mother out of this!” cried Dodo, in relief. Then she managed to slip her arm underneath her mother’s, and urged her to get up and out of the cab. Mrs. Alexander spied handsome Jack, and quickly decided she must lean upon the strong right arm of a young man, instead of accepting her daughter’s equally strong arm. With a rolling of her eyes between pencilled eyelashes, and a plaintive gasp meant to enlist Jack’s sympathy, Mrs. Alexander permitted herself to be coaxed from the cab, and half-carried into the hotel. How she loved all this confusion, which she considered better than nothing, in the absence of other ways of announcing her arrival! “Well, so here you are, my dear!” exclaimed little Mr. Alexander, coming from the smoking-room, in time to see his wife sink upon a huge lounge in the large reception hall. Had it not been that Mr. Dalken, Tom, and the ladies now hastened to greet the new arrivals, Mrs. Alexander might have amused herself by scolding her spouse for his neglect in meeting her train at the station—though she had failed to mention in the telegram the time of its arrival in Denver. Being the center of interest, because of the fuss she made over the collision in front of the hotel, Mrs. Alexander forgot to take her husband to account for his oversight of duty. Mr. Dalken had planned to leave Denver the following morning—in fact, he would not have stopped over-night at the hotel, had it not been for the wire received by Mr. Alexander, in which Mrs. Alexander said she would join the party in Denver that evening. Now, to end the lady’s little tableau, Mr. Dalken looked at his watch. “We must retire, friends, if we wish to get the train to Albuquerque to-morrow morning.” “Oh!” cried Mrs. Alexander, “I cannot think of it! I have a great deal of shopping to attend to and, besides, I promised faithfully that Dodo and I would wait here for a certain dear friend to join us. He leaves the Springs in the morning, and I am sure he will be with us by noon.” “Who is he?” demanded her little lord and master. “Not a fool who’s after Dodo’s money, I hope.” “Ebeneezer! How can you speak so shamelessly of your child’s admirers?” complained Mrs. Alexander. “Don’t worry, Daddy,” added Dodo, frankly as ever. “He makes a fine fetch-and-carry addition to Ma’s cortège, and I don’t mind him a bit—he manages to dust his wisp of a moustache upon my finger-tips now and then, and that seems to pay him for his doglike devotion to Ma.” “But why wait for him to come to Denver?” demanded her father. “Why—because Ma invited him to join your party on its trip to Arizona. She thinks the invigorating climate may cause certain dormant brain cells in sweet little Algy’s cerebrum to open. If that should develop, think how thankful we would be!” Dodo laughed heartlessly. “Poor Dodo!” whispered Eleanor to Polly. “What a life she must have had with her mother, at such a resort as the Hot Springs.” “Darling child!” cried Mrs. Alexander, reprovingly, to Dodo. “Some day you will appreciate such a devoted love as adoring Algernon has for you. At present you are too young to understand it.” “I am as old as Polly and Eleanor, Ma, in spite of your denials of my true age. I think it is too silly for anything—the way you tell people how grown up I am for my tender age! How much older I _look_ than I really _am_! That I ought to be in school, with my hair in pigtails! Now, I’m going to have it out, since Daddy is here to stand by me. The next time you start in to sigh about my precociousness for my age, I’m going to tell right out how old _you_ are. I’m going to inform people that you married very late in life, and that I am a child of your old age.” Ebeneezer Alexander smiled approvingly at his daughter’s threat, and the others in the group had difficulty in controlling their facial muscles—not that the elders approved of such remarks to a parent, but Mrs. Alexander’s was an exceptional case, and Dodo happened to be a very frank, even blunt, character, much like
{'title': 'Polly in the Southwest by Lillian Elizabeth Roy', 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}