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"Now that's my notion of living," cried Davy as he edged his chair back from the cracking sticks that Welborn had added to the smouldering embers in the fireplace. "Own a fine little ranch, a decent run of livestock and poultry, raise plenty of feed, and have something to sell right along.
That evening, however, after Davy had returned from delivering Welborn his supper, the four gathered in the Gillis sitting room and Jim gave more details. "This man Welborn musta been in the army," he declared. "Musta been a tough old top sergeant, er the general in command, the way he took charge. He managed every detail and managed it right. Everything worked out as planned.
Drive right over here next to the chimney. Howdy, Mr. Lannarck, you and Welborn get out and limber up for there's prospect for a fine supper." It was Gillis speaking as he aided Davy out of the cab. "I am Davy to you folks," said the little man as he stamped around to limber up from the long confinement. "You are Mrs. Gillis, I know, and you are Landy, aren't you?
Why if you owned these bears and had 'em climbing an injun ladder right up to their perch in the animal act, had 'em dancing, turning somersaults, you would ask a half grand for them and never bat an eye. They would be worth it, and you know it. But rather than go through the work of getting them ready, Mr. Welborn is willing to take an even hundred for the two.
The old machine described a big curve in getting out of the enclosure, but was again headed west. Gillis rode in the front seat with Welborn. Landy and Davy found room on the trailer. "I want to see everything," said Davy as he climbed to a perilous perch on one of the trunks. The mountains towered in the west, south, and southwest.
Landy and Davy rode their horses to the Gillis barn; Welborn and Gillis came later in the car. It was following the meal that the problem was talked over in detail. It was agreed by all that the invader would come in his car; there was no other way. He would have to come to the filling station to gain the roadway to Pinnacle Point.
The secretary ushered Davy into the private office. "I was sent here by a Mister Sam Welborn," Davy explained. "He wants to learn of the legal status and community standing of a former resident by the name of Shirley Wells." "Shirley Wells! Do you know Shirley Wells?" Townsend sprang to his feet and walked around the desk. "Is Shirley Wells alive? Available?
I don't know what it is, and don't want to know, until you are ready. Of course it will work out all right. There'll be a climax, a denouement, as old director Mecklin used to call the final act, and I want you to be right here, in person, in good health and spirits, to join with the rest of us in the applause and cheers." Welborn had walked over to the window, but not to look out.
Now, I am rid of the problem, have ninety dollars in cash; have the offer of all the funds I need, and prospects of a fine companion all through the dreaded winter. The change from poverty to riches has been so rapid that it's more like a dream than a reality. And here's the worst feature of the whole business," continued Welborn as the two made their way to the ticket wagon.
When he gets that done he's going to be busy using it, either to straighten out his own financial affairs or to down or suppress some financier that has busted in on his plans. In either event, we will lose him. Welborn doesn't belong out here.
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