The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1936-02-01

ranch, in 1927, I got to
know this royal neighbor
of mine pretty well.
His ranch manager, the wise
and able Prof. w. L. Carlyle,
asked me to drive to Calgary and
help bring out the Prince OF
Wales party. On the long ride
in I hit a bump in the road and
broke the tire rack that held my
spare.
1t was only a matter of min
ute to put the shoe on the left
hand running board and tie it
with a rope to the handle of the
rear door. 1t was an ungainly
looking outfit, but it worked.
When I drove my muddy and
dilapidated ranch car into Cal
gary, I hurried to garage and
tried to get it washed and cleaned,
but half of all the cars in the city
apparently were ahead of me.
AS it was, neither Mr.. Carlyle
nor I could get thing done to
our tough looking old BUSES, and
we were both rather ashamed of
ourselves when we started for the
Canadian Pacific station.
DRAWN up in a roped-of
- space near the main en-
trance, we discovered a fleet of
the very latest and most mag
nificent cars that the Calgary
dealers had on hand.
They were draped with flags
and shined up like race horses.
Obviously there we're parade
plans on foot.
When the train came in Mr..
Carlyle hurried over to the pri-
vate railroad car and a minute or
two later came out with the small
retinue of the Prince.
Seated in my dirty old car I
saw the parade head straight for
the special automobiles, with the
flags draped over their hoods.
The Prince heSitated only the
bareSt second, said something to
Mr.. Carlyle, who nodded over to
where our two ancient vehicles
were parked. Then the Prince led
the way straight to our disrepu-
table buses.
LIE climbed in the front seat
Il Il alongside Mr.. Carlyle. Prince
George, his youngest brother,
slipped in behind, with an aid.
The three others in the party
hurried over to my car and with
a CHEEKY hello, jumped in.
1t was a close shave several
times, but no one was hurt. Then
almost before we knew it we were
free of the crowd and hitting it
for the golf course.
The Prince played 10 holes, had
a quick lunch and then we started
the IS miles to his ranch. We
hadn't gone many miles before he
began leaning out of the windows
and glancing back at us.
Finally his car pulled up on the
side of the road and by the time
I had slowed down he was out
and walking back toward us.
TIM worried about that spare
Il tire of yours" he said to me,
examining the rather awkward
way I had tied the shoe to the
door handle. 1T looks to me as if
you'd lose it almost any minute"
well, thanks" answered, but
I think it'll ride. It's held all
morning"
"All right, if you're sure about
it," he went on. But just for
luck I'll keep an eye on it,"
1t was 6 o'clock when we drove
UP in front of his low rambling
ranch house. I stepped out TO say
good-by.
But the Prince would have none
of it. You're going to have din
tlCE WIFI us dHtt stay TIC I1lSnL.
he insisted. Leave your car right
there under the cottonwoods and
come on in"
1t was exactly the kind of treat
ment one Western rarsner always
gives another: Tie up and come
on in
NTE washed up, had a cocktail
w and then sat down to din
ner. After dinner we played the
photograph and spun good salty
yarns, and when, midnight rolled
around two or three of us, with
the Prince, went out in the kitch-
en- and Mr.. Carlyle rustled cold
ham and some bread and cheese
and bottle of beer.
We sat down at the kitchen
table. with its oilcloth cover still
on it.
It's the sort of evening I've had
a thousand times-only this par
ticular one my companion was