The Bemidji daily pioneer., 1922-07-10
(Continued from last issue)
CHAPTER ~

A7Av,l E7 ~
Three weeks later, Robert Fairchild
sat in the smoking compartment Of
the Overland Limited, looking at the
Rocky mountains in the distance. In
his pocket were few hundred dol
lars; in the bank in Indianapolis q
few thousand, representing the final
proceeds of the sale of everything that
had connected him with a rather
dreary past. Out before him.
Three weeks had created a meta
morphOsis in what had been a plod-
ding, matter-of-fact man with dreams
which did not extend beyond his led
gers and his gloomy home-but now a
man leaning his head against the win
dow of rushing train, staring ahead
toward the Rockies and the rainbow
they held for him. Back to the place
where his father had gone with
dreams aglow was the son travelling
now-bnck into the rumpled noun
tains where the blue haze hung low
and protecting as though over myste-
ries and treasures which awaited one
man and one alone. 1t thrilled Fair
child, 1t caused his heart to tug and
pufl-nor could be tell exactly why.
The hills came closer. Still closer;
then, when it seemed that the train
must plunge straight into them, they
drew away again. as though through
some optical illusion, and brooded in
hn In ol- hn f,sor
continental train began to bang over
the frogs and switches as it made its
entrance into Denver. Fairchild went
through the long chute and to ticket
window.
"When can. get train for Ohadi?"
The ticket seller smiled. "You can't
get one"
"But the map shows that railroad
runs there"
IRAN there, you mean," chaffed the
clerk. "The best you can do is to
get to Forks Creek and walk the rest
of the way. That's a narrow-gauge
line and Clear creeks been on Il ranl-
page. 1t took out about two hundred
feet of trestle. and there won't be a
train into Ohadi for q week. Stranger
out here?"
Every much Of one.'
"In hurry to get to Ohadi?"
"Yes."
'"I'hen you can go uptown and hire
a taxi---they've got big cars for noun
tain work and there are good roads
all the way. It'll cost fifteen or
twenty dollars Or"
Fairchild smiled. "Give me the other
system If you've got one. I'm not ter
ribly long on cash-for taxls."
"Certainly. No use spending that
money if you've get little pep, and
it isn't matter Of life or death. Go
up to the Central loop-anybody can
direct you-and catch a street car for
Golden. That eats up fifteen miles
and leaves just twenty-three miles
more. Then ask somebody to point
out the road over Mount Lookout.
Machines go along there every few
minutes-no trouble at all to catch a
ride. You'll be in Ohadi in no time"
q, Fairchild obeyed the instructions,
and in the baggage room rechecked his
trunk to follow him, Tightening his
travelling bag at the same time until
it carried only necessities. A lunch
con, then the street car. Three quar-
ters of an hour later, he began the
five-mile trudge up the broad smooth.
carefully groomed automobile high
way which masters Mount Lookout. A
rumbling sound behind him, then he
stepped to one side. grlmy truck
driver leaned out to shout as he
passed:
'Want a lift? Hop on! Can't
stop-too much grade"
"A running leap, and Fairchild seat
ed himself on the tailboard of the
truck, swinging his legs and looking
out over the fading plains as the
truck reared and clattered upward
along the twisting mountain road.
Upward, still upward! The town
below became merely checkerboard
thing, the lake dot Of cleaning sill
yer, the stream a scintillating ribbon
stretching Off into the foothills. A
turn, and they skirted tremendous
valley, its slopes falling away in sheer
descents from the roadway. A dark
ened, moist stretch of road, fringed by
pines, then jogging journey over roll
ing table-land. At last came voice
from the drivers seat.
''Turn off up here at Genesee noun
tain.. Which way do you go?"
"Trying to get to Ohaf1i." Eairchild