I wouldn't 'a' believed it if I hadn't saw it writ down in black and white. But there it was, haided Chicago, addressed to Porky, and as plain as day: "_Buy up all that's possible. Price no object. Rockafeller._"

Say! I come nigh lettin' out a yell. Then, knowin' they was no use to ast the agent to sell, I split fer the liv'ry-stable. And when I got back into town late that night, I'd been down to a ranch below Goldstone and handed over my nest-aig fer a quarter-section just south of town.

Next mornin', they was a nice pile of stakes throwed out on to that sand patch of mine, all them stakes white on the one end and sharp on the other. And they was a big sign onloaded, too. Yas, ma'am. It said, "The Lloyd Addition."

And that _same_ noon, Number 201 brung me a letter from little Macie!

I didn't cut up my quarter into lots straight off. Made up my mind it'd be best to see that real-estate feller first, ast his _ad_vice, and see if he'd handle the property. So I made fer his office in a _turrible_ sweat.

Heerd awful loud talkin' as I come nigh, and seen they was a big crowd 'round the door. And here was Porky and the parson, just _havin'_ it--up and down!

"The idear!" the parson was sayin', "--the idear of you' thinkin'

you can go stick a pavilion where licker'll be sold right next to the Cathedral!" (He was madder 'n all git out!)

Porky shrug his shoulders. "My dear _sir,_" he says, "I got to use my own _land_ in my own _way._"

"Aw!" answers the parson, solemn, "--aw! my friend, give you' heart a housecleanin'. Think not so muchly about worldly _po_ssessions, but _see_cure a lot in the New Jerusalem!"

Then Porky flew up. Said the parson 'd insulted him. "And," he almost yelled, "this is how it stands. Either you got to buy the block where the pavilion's goin' to be, 'r I'll buy the Cathedral property."

"I ain't got you' means at my command," says the parson.

"Never mind. I'll take the church lots. Name you' figger."

"Three thousand."

Porky pulled out his check-book and begun to scribble with one of them squirt-gun pens. "The matter is settled," he says.

Say! the feller who'd sole that property to the parson fer a hunderd--we had to prop him up!

Just afterwards, I had my chin with the real-estate dude, and I tell you it made me pretty blue. "Sorry, Lloyd," he says; "you know _I_ never tole you to buy _south_ of town. And I don't keer to bother with you'

Addition. 'Cause Goldstone is goin' to grow to the north and east."

Porky was there, and he said the very same thing. And a few minutes later on, when the doc come in, I couldn't git him to even _con_sider lookin'

over my buy. But fer a lot on the north side, belongin' to the parson, he put down the good, hard _coin_.

North and east was the hull talk now, and them Goldstone fellers who'd sole out cheap in that end of town felt some pale. But the Chicago gents was as pert as prairie-dawgs, and doin' a thunderin' lot of buyin'. Now, the doc owned sev'ral lots east of Porky's tract. "New drug-store here," he says, "and a fine town hall over it. I'll put ten thousand into the buildin'." And the parson bought next to the site fer the Normal College. "The city," he says, "'ll want a spot fer its High School."

All the time this was goin' on, I was livin' on nothin', you might say, and not even spendin' a cent fer a shave. My haid had a crop of hay on it that would 'a' filled a pilla; I had a Santy Claus beard, and if I couldn't afford to grub at the hotel, I wasn't mean enough to use they soap. So, far as looks goes, I was some changed.

Then--the _Tarantula_ showed up with the hull story about coal and oil and gas! Say! the cat was outen the bag. And Goldstone come nigh havin'

a fit and fallin' in. Here it'd been over a gold-mine, and didn't know it! And here it'd gone and sole itself out to a pa.s.sel of strange ducks!

"_Feller citizens,_" says the paper, "_this beautiful city of yourn is destined to rival South McAlester and Colgate._"

That was on a Thursday, if I recollect right. Wal, say! fer the next two days, more things happened in that there town than'd ever happened in the hull _county_ afore. Ev'rybody that could rake, sc.r.a.pe, beg 'r borra was a-doin' it--so's they could buy. Friday, the postmaster got a big block from the real-estate gent; same day, kinda as a favour, the doc sold the ticket-agent two 'r three lots. I felt blamed sore 'cause _I_ didn't have no money to git in on some good deals. But I hung on to the "Lloyd Addition"--I wouldn't let _that_ git outen my hands. Aw, I ain't a-goin' to lie--I had the boom-fever bad as _any_body. Fact is, I had it _worse_. And who wouldn't--when gettin'

that little gal depended on it?

Sat.u.r.day, Goldstone went plumb crazy. They was buyin' and sellin'

back'ards and for'ards, this way and that way, in circles and cater-corners. From sun-up on, that real-estate shanty had half a dozen fellers in it all the time; more was over to the hotel, d.i.c.kerin'

with Porky; and a lot of others trailed up the parson and the doc.

n.o.body et 'cause they was too blamed _ex_cited. n.o.body drunk 'cause they wouldn't spare the cash. The sun went down, and they kept on a-buyin'. And at midnight, the town went to bed--_rich!_

The day afterwards was Sunday. And I hope I may die if I ever fergit that Sunday!

When the sun come up, as a story-book'd put it, Goldstone lay as calm and peaceful as a babe, 'cept where some poor devil of a cow-punch was gittin' along towards his bunk when he oughta been comin' outen it. But all else was O. K. Weather fine, ev'rybody well, thank y', and land so high it's a wonder the temper'ture wasn't gittin' low.

But ain't it funny how quick things can change?

First off, some of us boys went over to that real-estate hogan--and found the door open and the place stripped. Yas, ma'am; duds gone, pictures gone. Only the bench and the table left.

"What struck _him?_" ast the postmaster, who was comin' by.

"I guess," says a feller, careless, "--I guess he's moved into a better office, mebbe."

"I reckon," agrees the postmaster. Then, his voice gittin' holler, like, "But ain't that the map of Goldstone, with a rip in it?"

It was--tore clean in two!

We wasn't anxious any. Just the same, we drifted over to the hotel.

When we got to the door, we met the clerk comin' out. "Where's you'

millionaire friend this mornin'?" we ast him.

"Started fer Chicago last night."

"What--what's that?"

"Gone to raise more capital, I guess," says the clerk. "'Cause he didn't settle--is comin' back right off."

Without n.o.body sayin' nothin' more, we all made up the street to the doctor's, the crowd growin' as we went along. Even after bein' knocked plumb flat with a sledge-hammer, we didn't know _yet_ what'd bit us.

But they was another whopper a-comin'--the _doc_ wasn't to be found.

"I think," says the postmaster, swallerin' hard, "that if we ast the parson----"

Up pipes a kid. "The parson wasn't to Sunday school this mornin'."

Fer a spell, we all just looked at each other. Then, the _pro_cession formed and moved east--towards the parson's.

A square table was inside. On it was a lot of bottles and gla.s.ses and a pack of cards--nothin' more.

Ole sin-killer, too!

I spoke up: "They's gone, boys,--but what about they _land?_"

"Wal," answers one feller, "I don't think the doc _had_ none. 'Cause I bought the Merchants' _Ex_change site offen him yesterday."

"And I bought the Normal School block offen the parson," says Number Two.