HE INVADES COLDRIVER

The entrance of Scattergood Baines into Coldriver Valley, and the manner of his first taking root in its soil, are legendary. This much is clear past even disputing in the post office at mail time, or evenings in the grocery—he walked in, perspiring profusely, for he was very fat.

It is asserted that he walked the full twenty-four miles from the railroad, subsisting on the country, as it were, and sagged down on the porch of Locker's grocery just before sundown. It is not implied that he walked all of the twenty-four miles in that single day. Huge bodies move deliberately.

He sagged down on Locker's porch, and it is reported the corner of the porch sagged with him. George Peddie has it from his grandfather, who was an eyewitness, that Scattergood did not so much as turn his head to look at the assembled manhood of the vicinity, but with infinite pains and audible grunts, succeeded in bringing first one foot, then the other, within reach of his hands, and removed his shoes. Following this he sighed with a great contentment and twiddled his bare toes openly and flagrantly in the eyes of all Coldriver. He is said now to have uttered the first words to fall from his mouth in the town where were to lie his life's unfoldings and fulfillments. They were significant—in the light of subsequent activities.

"One of them railroads runnin'up here,"said he to the mountain just across the road from him,"would have spared me close to a dozen blisters."

Conversation had expired on Scattergood's arrival, and the group on the porch converted itself into an Audience. It was an Audience that got its money's worth. Not for an instant did the attention of a single member of it stray away from this Godsend come to furnish them with their first real topic of conversation since Crazy French stole a box of Paris green, mistaking it for a new sort of pancake flour.

Scattergood arose ponderously and limped out into the middle of the dusty road. From this vantage point he slowly and conscientiously studied the village.

"Uh-huh!"he said."'Twouldn't pay to do all that walkin'just for a visit. Calc'late I'll have to settle."

He walked directly back to the absorbed group of leading citizens, his shoes dangling, one in each hand, and addressed them genially.

"Your town,"said he,"is growin'. Its population jest increased by me."

"Sizable growth,"said Old Man Penny, dryly, letting his eye rove over Scattergood's bulk.

"My line,"said Scattergood,"is anythin'needful. Outside of a railroad, what you figger you need most?"

Nobody answered.

"Is it a grocery store?"asked Scattergood.

Locker stiffened in his chair."Me and Sam Kittleman calc'lates to sell all the groceries this town needs,"he said.

"How about dry goods?"said Scattergood.

Old Man Penny and Wade Lumley stirred to life at this.

"Lumley and me takes care of the dry goods,"said the old man.

"Uh-huh! How about a clothin'store?"

"We got all the clothin'stores there's room for,"said Lafe Atwell."I run it."

"Kind of got the business of this town sewed up, hain't you?"Scattergood asked, admiringly."Wouldn't look with favor on any more stores?"

"We calculate to keep what business we got,"said Old Man Penny."A outsider would have a hard time makin'a go of it here."

"Quite likely,"said Scattergood."Still, you never can tell. Let some feller come in here with a gen'ral store, sellin'for cash—and cuttin'prices, eh? How would an outsider git along if he done that? Up-to-date store. Fresh goods. Low prices. Eh? Calc'late some of you fellers would have to discharge a clerk."

"You hain't got money enough to start a store,"Old Man Penny squawked."Why, you hain't even got a satchel! You come walkin'in like a tramp."

"The re's tramps—and tramps,"said Scattergood, placidly. He reached far down into a trousers pocket and tugged to the light of day a roll that his fingers could not encircle. He looked at it fondly, tossed it up in the air a couple of times and caught it, and then held it between thumb and forefinger until the eyes of his audience had assured themselves that the outside bill was yellow and its denomination twenty dollars.... The audience gulped.

"Meals to the tavern perty good?"Coldriver's new citizen asked.

"Say,"demanded Locker,"be you really thinkin'about startin'a cash store here?"

"Neighbor,"said Scattergood,"never give up valuable information without gittin'somethin'for it. How much money would a complete and careful account of my intentions be worth to you?"

Locker snorted."Bet that wad of bills is a dummy with a counterfeit twenty outside of it,"he said.

Scattergood smiled tantalizingly. Locker had not, fortunately for Scattergood, the least idea how close to the truth he had been. On one point only had he been mistaken. The twenty outside was not

counterfeit. However, except for three fives, four twos, and ninety cents in silver, it represented Scattergood's total cash capital.

"I'm goin',"said Scattergood,"to order me two suppers. Two! From bean soup to apple pie. It's my birthday. Twenty-six to-day, and I always eat two suppers on my birthdays.... Glad you leadin'citizens see fit to give me such a hearty welcome to your town. Right kind and generous of you."

He turned and ambled down the road toward the tavern, planting his bare feet with evident pleasure in the deepest of the warm sand, and flirting up little clouds of it behind him. The audience saw him seat himself on the tavern steps and pull on his shoes. They were too far to hear him say speculatively to himself:"I never heard tell of a man gittin'a start in life jest that way—but that hain't any reason it can't be done. I'm goin'to do this town good, and this valley. Hain't no more'n fair them leadin'citizens should give me what help they feel they kin."

Scattergood ate with ease and pleasure two complete suppers—to the openly expressed admiration of Emma, the waitress. Very shortly afterward he retired to his room, where, not trusting to the sturdiness of the bed-slats provided, he dragged mattress and bedding to the floor and was soon emitting snores that Landlord Coombs assured his wife was the beat of anybody ever slept in the house not countin'that travelin'man from Boston. Next morning Scattergood was about early, padding slowly up and down the crossed streets which made up the village. He was studying the ground for immediate strategic purposes, just as he had been studying the valley on his long trudge up from the railroad for purposes related to distant campaigns. Though Scattergood's arrival in Coldriver may have seemed impromptu, as his adoption of the town for a permanent location seemed abrupt, not to say impulsive, neither really was so. Scattergood rarely acted without reason and after reflection.

True, he had but a moment's glimpse of Coldriver before he decided he had moved there, but the glimpse showed him the location was the one he had been searching for.... Scattergood's specialty, his hobby, was valleys. Valleys down which splashed and roared sizable streams, whose mountain sides were covered with timber, and whose flats were comfortable farms—such valleys interested him with an especial interest. But the valley he had been looking for was one with but a single possible outlet. He wanted a valley whose timber and produce and products could not go climbing off across the hills, over a number of easy roads, to market. His valley must be hemmed in. The only way to market must lie down the valley, with the river. And the river that flowed down his valley must be swift, with sufficient volume all twelve months of the year to turn possible mill wheels.... As yet he thought only of the direct application of power. He had not dreamed yet of great turbine generators which should transport thousands of horse power, written in terms of electricity, hundreds of miles across country, there to light cities and turn the wheels of huge manufactories....

Coldriver Valley was that valley! He felt it as soon as he turned into it; certainty increased as he progressed between those gigantic walls black with tall, straight, beautiful spruce. So, when he sat shoeless, resting his blistered feet on Locker's porch, he was ready to make his decision. The mere making of it was a negligible detail.

So Scattergood Baines found his valley. He entered it consciously as an invader, determined to conquer. Pitiful as were the resources of Cortez as he adventured against the power of Montezuma, or of Pizarro as he clambered over the Peruvian Andes, they were gigantic compared with Scattergood's. He was starting to make his conquest backed by one twenty, three fives, four twos, and ninety cents in silver. It was obvious to him the country to be conquered must supply the sinews of war for its own conquest.

Every village has its ramshackle, disused store building. Coldriver had one, especially well located, and not so ramshackle as it might have been. It was big; its front was crossed by a broad porch; its show windows were not show windows at all, but were put there solely to give light. Coldriver did not know there was such a thing as inviting patronage by skillful display.

"Sonny,"said Scattergood to a boy digging worms in the shade of the building,"who owns this here ruin?"

"Old Tom Plummer,"said the boy, and was even able to disclose where old Tom was to be found. Scattergood found him feeding a dozen White Orpingtons.

"Best layers a man can keep,"said Scattergood, sincerely."Man's got to have brains to even raise chickens."

"I git more eggs to the hen than anybody else in town,"said old Tom,"but nobody listens to me."

"Own a store buildin'downtown, don't you?"

"Calc'late to."

"If you was to git a chance to rent it, how much would it be a month?"

"Repairs or no repairs?"

"No repairs."

"Twenty dollars."

"G'mornin',"said Scattergood, and turned toward the gate.

"What's your hurry, mister?"

"Can't bear to stay near a man that mentions so much money in a breath,"said Scattergood, with his most ingratiating grin.

"How much could you stay and hear?"

"Not over ten."

"Huh!... Seein'the buildin's in poor shape, I'll call it fifteen."

"Twelve-fifty's as far's I'll go—on a five-year lease,"said Scattergood. It will be seen he fully intended to become permanent.

"What you figger on usin'it fur?"

"Maybe a opry house, maybe a dime museum, maybe a carpenter shop, and maybe somethin'else. I hain't mentionin'jest what, but it's law-abidin'and respectable."

"Five-year lease, eh? Twelve-fifty."

"Two months'rent in advance,"said Scattergood.

"Squire Hastings'll draw the papers,"said old Tom, heading for the gate. Scattergood followed, and in half an hour was the lessee of a store building, bound to pay rent for five years, with more than half his capital vanished—with no stock of goods or wherewith to procure one, with not even a day's experience in any sort of merchandising to his credit.

His next step was to buy ten yards of white cloth, a small paint brush, and a can of paint. Ostentatiously he borrowed a stepladder and stretched the cloth across the front of his store, from post to post. Then, equally ostentatiously, he mounted the stepladder and began to paint a sign. He was not unskilled in the business of lettering. The sign, when completed, read: