the crush, the mob,
where they strive only for personal gain--either in bulking up a lot
of money or acquiring personal rank or status. He's young, industrious
and impetuous; he might get it done. It's a great game, I'm told; it
engenders some joy and a lot of grief. Personally, I'd rather put in
the time handling a pup or growing a clutch of chickens."

Landy's appearance with the saddled horses interrupted the discussion.

14

The path over which Landy guided his little partner may have been an
animal trail before the days of the intrusion of the white men. It had
its beginnings in a little unnoticeable niche at the Welborn cabin. It
wound a narrow way along the face of the cliff and led down and around
to cross a quick-flowing brook that farther down was to take the name
"Mad Trapper's Fork." Halfway down, Landy pointed out that some
blasting here and a bridge there would make a serviceable
thoroughfare. Davy was fairly busy in retaining his saddle-seat as
Peaches followed old Frosty around the dangerous turns. At the halt,
and during Landy's remarks, he gazed at the towering peaks on the one
side and the yawning ravine on the other, and suggested that he,
Landy, could no doubt construct the proposed improvement some
afternoon when he was resting from his strenuous work in the hay
field.

The sarcasm was ignored. Landy searched out a convenient crossing of
the little stream. Once out of the stream bed the party was to
encounter a vast tableland of grazing ground that seemed bounded by
hills and peaks on all sides--the Tranquil Meadows.

It was Davy's time to halt the procession. As was his custom, he rode
Peaches in front of Frosty and stopped for an extended inspection.

"A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread--and Thou
Beside me, singing in the Wilderness--Oh,
Wilderness were Paradise enow!"

chanted the little man as he gazed from peak to pinnacle. "Say, Landy!
I once dreamed of this place, and I didn't leave out a detail. I was
waiting for a delayed train at Peru for a jump to Buffalo to join up a
Keith circuit. At the station there was a pestering drunk with his
'how-come' stuff and two simpering women with their 'ain't-he-cute'
rot. I was tired. I'd had a tough season. That summer, there was a big
crop of gawks and I had encountered all of 'em. I wanted to quit the
game--wanted to hide out. On the sleeper, I dreamed of this place. I
was on a horse--a big, fat ring-horse, with a pad. I rode