Rex Wayland's fortune; or, The secret of the Thunderbird

Front matter

Chap,.^„. Copyright No..

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Dedication

TO THE MOTHERS OF OUR LAND,

WHO ARE WHAT THE MOTHER OF MY SONS IS;

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Chapter I From Frost To Flowers The Waylands

AND A WEB-FOOT

“Hi,dere! You boy Rex! Wakeup! Yer f adder — de Kunnel — done sent me back ter rout you out o’ dis. He nearly ready fer his breakfuss. Mus’ be you done f ergot ’bout de green grass in de winter time you was a-gwine ter see when we got down dis side o’ de Cascades. Hear me now? Start yose’f! We be at Puyallup ’fore ye know it.”

Rex opened his eyes with a start and was at once wide-awake. Eagerly he pulled the curtains aside from the window of his berth and beheld, in the gray, smoky light, green patches of grass flitting by, as the heavy Northern Pacific Overland pursued its flight down grade toward Puget Sound. The sight was a novel one, for in all his fifteen years he had never before seen green fields on New Year’s morning. “And so far north, too, ’ ’ he thought, as he groped about for his clothes.

IO

“A happy New Year, mother!” he sang out, as Mrs. Wayland emerged from the ladies’ toilet room, where she had combed her hair as carefully as when at home.

‘‘Thank you, Rex; and may it be a happy one for you, too. Have you looked out this morning?”

“Oh, yes, mother. I took a peep before I commenced dressing. The fields are green — just as the porter said they would be, aren’t they? How wonderful, and we six hundred miles farther north than at home! I thought last night when he was telling us, he was fooling — we’ve been joking him, you know, all the way from St. Paul west; and once in the night, about one o’clock, I think, I awoke and looked out to see from six to eight feet of snow. ”

“Yes, and so did I. I saw snow as late as 2 130 this morning, but I knew that when we got down out of the mountains there would be much less of it. I confess I had doubts of Caesar’s story, that only once in the five years he has run over this road has he seen snow within fifteen miles of the Sound. The Japan current must have more influence on this Sound country than people east generally suspect. But hurry up, Rex, and get ready for breakfast. We change cars at Puyallup in forty minutes. This train goes from there on to Tacoma and Portland. ”

While at breakfast, the Colonel, Mrs. Wayland and Rex could scarcely believe their eyes, for, instead of the snow that surrounded them at nightfall, they now saw the greenest of fields and swept

FROM FROST TO FLOWERS 1 1

past bright glancing waters. Breakfast over, they began hastily to gather up the small belongings that had served to • while away the hours of the long cold journey westward, over the frozen plains of North Dakota, Montana, Idaho, and eastern Washington. As they stepped out on the long platform at Puyallup, to await the train north for Seattle, they were even more greatly surprised at the balmy air and apparent springtime all about them. Roses bloomed in a little garden over acrpss the way, the station hands were working about in their shirt sleeves, and it seemed much like a rainy June morning in New York. As they boarded the train for the thirty-one mile run down to Seattle, they struck up a conversation with an old gentleman in the next seat, who seemed only too happy to talk about the country. He was apparently in love with it, and warmed up as he proceeded.

“Yes, the Sound country’s a leetle wet. In fact, the folks over east of the mountains call us web-feet over here, but we don’t mind that. We jest paddle ’round, contented as ye please. Now, this ’ere is one of our nice winter mornin’s. It don’t happen to rain, but I persoom ’twill ’fore night. Ye ain’t seen Rainier yet, have ye?’’

“Rain here?” said Mrs. Wayland, innocently, “Why no. We’ve but just come and it hasn’t rained — ”

“He means Mount Rainier , mother,” broke in Rex, who was quite tickled by his mother’s blunder.

“Yes, ma’am. I mean our big mountain over to the south. It’s the highest peak in this region,

A FIRST VIEW OF MT. RAINIER.

FROM FROST TO FLOWERS being 14,444 feet. The next curve we make you just look out, and I think you kin ketch a glimpse of it. The air is purty clear this mornin’, although it may not be twenty minutes from now. ”

As he spoke, a curve was rounded, and to the southeast, apparently three or four miles distant, the Wayland family first beheld that immense dome of ice and snow they were later to see so many times and never find twice the same. As they looked, that morning, the first rays of the rising sun were gilding its alabaster sides, changing them in places from pure white to pink and green. The view was only fleeting, but all drew a long breath of wonder as the train, again taking the straight line, shut off this grand sight.

“Wasn’t that glorious? — and so near!” exclaimed Mrs. Wayland.

“Not so very near, ma’am. That mountain is nearly sixty miles away. There are mornings in spring when it looks even nearer. I saw a bank of clounds coming up just then, and, I persoom, in half an hour you won’t see it at all. ”

The train was now rapidly nearing Seattle, and the blue waters of the great Sound stretcfied away to the left. The Wayland family were charmed by the novel, yet familiar expanse, for though living all their lives in an inland town, they had occasionally journeyed to the sea-shore, and had learned to love the changing views the sea affords. As they ran out past the mouth of the Duwamish River and abreast of Duwamish Head, the broad expanse of not only Elliott Bay, but the main roadstead, stretched away i4

REX WAYLARD’S FORTUNE to the west, the waters suggesting bronze, so smooth and unruffled were they. Nearer in, several steamers ploughed their way, while out toward the main Sound two or three sailing-vessels, every stitch of canvas set, were striving to beat in against the light shore breeze which invariably blows clear night and morning. Fourteen or fifteen miles to the westward was seen a vast black cloud, like the smoke of some great conflagration, and this, their "new friend informed them, rose from the fires of the Blakely Mill, the largest lumber mill in the world. “It is on Bainbridge Island,” he pursued, “and its fires never die out. It runs night and day. That point of land to the left there, coming out around Duwamish Head, is Vashon Island. Hello! There’s a squall blowin’ up from the sou ’west, rollin’ right up acrost Vashon and in toward Magnolia Head. Now watch them fellows take in sail. ’ ’

He was right. A squall was coming, swifter in its flight than even their train, and already the white caps began to appear, while a rapidly approaching circle of blackness preceded them, along the erstwhile quiet bosom of the great bay. In a breath the scene had changed. The sailboats, but a few seconds before so erect and stately, were now bent far forward, while their crews hastily took in canvas, and prepared to run before the blast. Those nearest Duwamish Head took the wind right abeam, and rounding the head were soon safe in Seattle Harbor, while others farther out scudded away up the sound, beyond Magnolia Bluff, Four Mile Rock, and so on behind West Point.

FROM FROST TO FLOWERS

“Mighty ketchy weather here in winter,” remarked the self-styled web-foot, as the train rolled into the station, “and as that squall hes brought my rain, ye may as well hist yer umberell, fer here’s Seattle, where we git out.”

Chapter II A Motley Throng — Strange Scenes In Storm And Sunshine

Everybody in Seattle seemed prepared for the rain. Mackintoshes were more in evidence than umbrellas, and old and young wore not only these, but rubber boots and overshoes. There was one exception — the logger, who strolled .about the wharves in picturesque flannel blouse and leather boots with enormously thick soles. These soles were either hob-nailed or calked with sharp steel spikes from half to three-fourths of an inch in length, that the wearer might more easily maintain his footing on slippery logs, afloat or ashore. The legs of these boots, soft and pliable, were laced in front from instep to knee, and half-way down at the back and on either side. A motley group it was that stood about the station and wharves of Seattle — a group the like of which can be found nowhere else in the world. The ubiquitous hackman, bawling loudly; the soberlyclad immigration agent; the smartly-dressed real estate boomer, from under whose elegant capemackintosh flashed diamonds of the first water; the phlegmatic, white-haired Swede; the sandy Norwegian; the Maine man, or down easter, who takes quite naturally to logging; the Chinaman whose long cue is coiled up under a sou’wester and over whose flowing garments hangs a rubber coat, a

A MOTLEY THRONG mackintosh or a slicker; the alert little Jap in natty business suit, standing as expectant as a terrier at a rat-hole ; the fashionably attired lady or gentleman, jostled by the shivering Kanaka; the Italian salmon fisherman, who, standing with folded arms, flashes his glittering black eyes, or his gleaming teeth, at some fellow countryman among the new-comers. And last but not least, the flat-nosed, broadmouthed, thick-lipped Siwash, who stolidly views all new-comers as if unaware that they are eventually to drive him from his beloved beach, “spouting” clam and “logy” dog-salmon.

Yes; it would be indeed difficult to find anywhere in the world such a mixed crowd as is always to be seen on the wharves over which all railways run their trains on entering or leaving Seattle. Though a city of 75,000 population, there is here wharf-room for a city of half a million, and being built of wood on piles, these wharves seem almost unsafe. They are occupied not only by “wharfingers” and seamen, but by boat-builders, mill-owners, shops, stores and even residences. The wealth of the fish display is something remarkable, even at the holiday season. Open canneries and packing houses put up tons and tons of salmon and other fish. On all sides are booths and stalls for the sale of smelt, cod, mackerel and almost every other variety of fish, there being ninety-five varieties of food fish in Puget Sound alone. Here is a game market in which is offered for sale every variety of duck, goose, partridge, grouse, quail, deer, bear, mountain goat, sheep, and others of the innumerable bird and beast i8 tribes of this wonderful region. Everything in the line of fruit or vegetables from both temperate and tropical zones is here displayed or seen in transit. Gunny-sacks, baskets, bales and hampers, largely take the place of boxes and barrels used in other portions of the world. One of the striking sights of these wharves is the immense sticks of timber ready for shipment, some of them one hundred and fifty to two hundred and fifty feet in length, and squaring from two to three feet. Great square piles of cedar shingles in bunches are also ranged beside larger lumber piles. In short, there is always a wealth of remarkable objects on these wharves, and such novel sights were greatly enjoyed by the Waylands, who, like the majority of the people of the Union, had never before visited this corner of Uncle Sam’s domains. Astonished and pleased as they were by the bustle of business on all sides, they could not but note the cheap character of the wharves and adjacent buildings, and were conscious of dissatisfaction at the crude appearance of everything as compared with cities of their older coast.

“What d’ye think of it?’’ was the query of the old gentleman who volunteered to show Rex and his mother about a bit, while the Colonel looked after the baggage. Rex said nothing, but his mother, w*ith an evident desire to please the kind old man, returned :

“Why, I presume the rain renders everything more forlorn than it otherwise would be, but it all looks so new and rough to us.”

“That’s what everybody says, ma’am, an’ it is

A MOTLEY THRONG new an’ rough, but if people will congregate in such numbers and do so much business in such surroundin’s, it proves this must be a nateral center an’ a productive one as well, don’t it?” Mrs. Wayland assented, and he went on: “When ye climb the hill yonder, on some o’ these street cars, ye’ll see a city a-stretchin’ away on all sides, nine miles long by three wide, coverin’ more groun’ it’s true than it needs at present, an’ more than it can well cover, but all showin’ the faith o’ the people. Yes’m, ye see here the rough blockin’ out of a city that’ll yit be to this entire coast what New York or Boston be to that coast — a city that’ll hev a population of half a million in thirty year. As fer this unsightly water front, it stretches along in a half-circle fer five or six mile, round the finest harbor in the world ; a harbor which, like all this vast sound, with its two thousand mile o’ coast-line, is jest jam full o’ the finest fish. Right over behind that range of hill yonder, only two mile away, is a fresh-water lake, twenty-seven mile long, five hundred foot deep, an’ the purtiest body o’ fresh water ye ever see, ’cept Lake Union, which lays out north, over this first little ridge, not more’n a mile away. Jest think of it — a city with salt water in front, fresh water at the rear, an’ that Lake Washington is an inland sea if ever there was one, an’ a fresh- water lake in its very center. No other city in the world was ever so blessed.”

“Yes; no doubt; and there seems to be still more water coming down,” remarked Mrs. Wayland, with a look of dissatisfaction on her expressive face.

A MOTLEY THRONG

“But is the city all built of this coarse, rough lumber? Why, the very streets seem paved with these huge wooden planks. ’ ’

“Oh, that’s only down Tong shore. You go up a block an’ you’ll find as fine brick an’ stone buildin’s as ye ever see, an’ brick pavement. Oh, you ain’t seen Seattle yit. Wait a week!’’ And the old man turned away just as the Colonel came up with an expressman for their luggage, which must go to a furnished house they had rented before starting from the east. This man declared it would be easier riding by cable car than cab, and so they took the first car-line and were soon being whisked toward the top of one of the high hills. This they mounted and made a dive into a depression.

Mrs. Wayland clutched at her seat ejaculating — “I have heard that Rome was built on seven hills, but I believe Seattle is on at least seventy. ” As she spoke, she lost her hold and slid helplessly along the smooth seat, the car rounding corners and curves, up one hill and down another and crossing other lines on all of which were other rapidly-moving cars.

“I see very few horses here, mother,” laughed Rex. “It must be that cars are popular. ”

“Yes,” said the Colonel, “I understand they have a hundred miles of car-line in this small city. Hey, there! The sun is smiling on us again.” Ashe spoke, the rain ceased as suddenly as it had commenced, and everything, for everything was wet, glistened in the soft sunlight. They had now mounted a higher hill, and away to the west stretched the beautiful bay and sound with its wooded islands darkly green, the lighter green waters between, yet showing white caps, traces of the recent squall.

“Did you ever see anything more beautiful than that sound?” exclaimed Rex, enthusiastically.

“No; I never did,” admitted his mother, her eyes shining as she tool? in the view.

Chapter III The Waylands’ New Home — An Honest Swede

From the end of the cable-line it was but a short walk to their new home, and the Waylands pressed forward with eagerness to obtain their first view of “a house all furnished for tenants.” Out east in the small town they had always lived in, such a thing as renting a house furnished was unheard of, and just how much or how little they were now to find, all felt curious to know.

“Here’s the number, mother — 1424, and as the window shades are down, this must be the place.” The Colonel paused, took a photograph from his pocket, and after looking at it, walked up to the rustic gate and lifted the rope which held it to the post. At the front door he looked over his shoulder with a smile, as he remarked: “Guess I’ll push the bell before I try the key in the door.” No one answered the bell, and whipping out his key, he applied it and the three entered one of the prettiest of tastefully-carpeted halls, against the walls of which were hat-racks, an umbrella receptacle, and in a corner a neat stand with a silken spread. “If first impressions are significant, this house ought to suit you, my dear. Neat as wax, isn’t it?”

“Yes, indeed! and only see the rose vines climbing about this porch and out over the fence. I verily

THE WAYLANDS’ new HOME 25

believe there’s a hundred roses in sight. One could hardly realize this was New Year’s Day.”

“And that the snow was whirling before the keen wind across the common opposite our house back east,” chimed in Rex. Mrs. Wayland said nothing, but at the mention of their old home a shadow crossed her face. It had been their home for many years and a very happy one too. There Rex had been born ; there his little sister had come to stay but a few short years. With that look of sadness on the mother’s face came tears, but even as the sun had just chased the storm clouds, so now a pleasant smile shone through the moist eyes, as the Colonel opened a door to the left and drew her into a pretty little parlor, neatly furnished and with a grate beneath the mantel. In this grate were wood and shavings, and Rex, who dearly loved an open fire, darted forward, applied a match and flames went roaring up the chimney. “I’m at home!” he sang out as he threw himself into a chair. “You may explore. I’ll wait here.”

“Bless the boy! How he does make the best of everything,” remarked his mother as she patted his cheek.

“That’s the way, mother, isn’t it?” he shouted as he caught her hand, sprang to his feet, and, with his arm about her waist, waltzed her through the open door. Their inspection of the house pleased the Waylands very much, and made them feel quite at home, for it contained everything desirable. The dining-room, kitchen and pantry were especially well furnished, and at the back of the house were a pretty lawn and a vegetable garden. Beyond these were sheds for wood and tools, comprising everything needful about such a place. The air was unusually clear again, and as they stood on the rear piazza they could see the magnificent Cascades pushing up from among the fleeting clouds, their snow-covered sides sparkling in the rays of the sun.

“What a mighty wall of snow, ice and rock! See it stretch along. It must be a hundred miles from that grand old Rainier at the south to that tall snow-covered mountain at the north. What mountain is that, father?”

“Mount Baker, Rex. Go round in front of the house and see if the Olympics show up from here. ’ ’ Rex did so and a shout attracted his father and mother to the spot, where, with him, they enjoyed the weirdly rugged landscape from which the clouds were slowly lifting.

“There you see the most wonderful promontory in the world ; a region one hundred by one hundred and fifty miles without a human inhabitant, white or red, except along its coasts. It is almost surrounded by water, and has never been explored. But I must go to the nearest market and order something for dinner.”

“For lunch you mean,” drawled a voice just over the fence, behind the rose bushes. “You must be from the east, ’ ’ continued the voice, and its owner, a big, good-natured looking man, in overalls and hip boots, came forward and leaned over their gate. “We hev breakfast, lunch at noon and dinner at night out here. Now ain’t thar somethin’ I kin dofer ye or

THE WAYLANDS’ NEW HOME sell ye? Tim! Oh, Tim! Trot the kyuse ’long up here, till I sell this gentleman some vegetables or fish. Here ye air, sir. Nice fresh spuds — taters they call ’em out east — celery, onyuns, caroots, squash, reddishes, turnups, beets — anything you want. I come to yer door every Tuesday, Thursday an’ Saturday. I allers pack every kind o’ fresh fish. Fetch ’em to ye a-ki ekin’, too. No stale fish in my pack- Then I kin haul yer coal or wood — anythin’ ye want. How air ye off fer soft coal, er kindlin’, er bark, er hard wood fer yer grate ? Got any baggige? I dravr — ”

“Everything but your breath,’’ laughed the Colonel. “My friend, excuse me, but we’ve just come and don’t know what we do want yet. Is everybody out here as enterprising as you are?’’

“Jest come? Don’t know what ye want? Well! Rustle round an’ find out. Lucky I struck ye first. Why, ’fore ye’ve ben here a half-hour, some o’ them darned Swedes ’ll be ’round hittin’ ye fer a ‘yob. ’ Ye kin alius tell a Swede. They got big white eyes, an’ they can’t pernounce ‘j’ ter save their scalp. Ye jest better deal with a white man. I’m honest, I be, an’ — ’’

“So be’s I yonest. I sale yo’ goot feesh en spuds en carroots en cabbygees. Yaas, I more yonest dan dis faeller. I do yo’ yob great lot less moanee. What yo’ want doan, sir? I do yo’ yob. I work cheep. Veree cheep,’’ and in ahead of the stranger, who turned away in evident disgust, stepped a big Swede, his eagerness ludicrous to the Way lands, who were unused to this style of enterprise.

“I guess I won’t have anything to-day,” laughed the Colonel. “When I want anything, I’ll come round and hunt you fellows up.”

“All right, sor. You hunt me up. I veree yonest. I more yonest dan dot faeller. I do yo’ yob for less moanee. Yo save mooch as four bit on me." Here he stood and stared at them, occasionally exclaiming, “Yaas!” until they went in, shutting the door in his face.

And thus life began for the Waylands in their new home. The weather, the greater portion of the time, was so rainy that one could not venture out without an umbrella or storm clothes, but almost every day came a period of sunlight that was charming. In March, these days became more frequent, and with May came the finest weather they had ever known. The air was so clear that the far-away mountains looked very near, and the mountain torrents, fifty miles distant, flashed like mirrors in the sunlight. The grass was everywhere taking on a newer and richer shade of green ; the roses and other hardy flowers which had bloomed all the winter, seemed bound to bloom still more profusely ; humming - birds darted here, there and everywhere ; the great bay and the lakes to the east looked all day like molten metal, and on no day did fresh, reviving breezes fail to sweep across from the snow-capped mountains. As the Waylands declared, they had found a country where it was never hot nor even cold, and where sudden extremes were unknown. The Colonel enjoyed his travels about the sound region, where his duties as insurance-adjuster

THE WAYLANDS' NEW HOME

2 9 called him. Rex liked his school, and Mrs. Wayland the society of the ladies who called on her. All the family liked the church they attended and its minister, and it seemed as if the lengthening days brought only enjoyment. Thus passed the first summer and the succeeding winter. In fact, the fall stretched so far into winter that it almost touched the spring that soon came.

Chapter IV Sports On Puget Sound Wicked Butchery Of

SALMON

Rex will never forget that first summer on Puget Sound. There had been beautiful days during the winter, and he had greatly enjoyed sundry trips to the beach and one or two excursions up the sound with his father. So much did he love the salt air and the wild play of the waves, he even enjoyed the storms, but when the spring and summer came, then his joy was unadulterated, and greater than he had ever experienced before. There were days of perfect sunshine, when the few clouds floated lazily along, half-way up the lofty mountains, here and there turning like stray sheep from the main herd and scudding up some narrow valley ; other days when the soft breezes swept steadily across the wide waters laden with spicy odors of fir, balsam and cedar, or with the seductively soothing scent of the wild-flowers, which were blooming everywhere. And of these wild-flowers what an abundance ! In the early spring the laurel showed its wonderful great pink blossoms on every mountain side. Later the more brilliant wild rhododendron unfolded its wealth of color and fragrance. Every berry-bush, and there were many varieties, seemed to produce a fragrant blossom. Then there were the brakes and ferns. These had mainly thrived right through the 30

SPORTS ON PUGET SOUND mild winter, and now added another foot or two to their enormous stature, already five or six times taller than any east of the Cascades.

Rex had never in his life caught a fish that weighed much more than a pound, yet he was an enthusiastic and expert fisherman, and when he bore home from Elliott Bay his first twenty-pound salmon, which he had gaffed only after a long, hard fight, he was the proudest lad in the state of Washington.

“Only see, mother! He’s nearly as long as I am — thirty-nine inches — and he was all I wanted to carry home. See his beautiful silver sides ! Isn ’t he a beauty? Why, they were leaping all round me down there off Four Mile Rock this afternoon, and I saw an Italian gang make one haul of not less than twelve thousand pounds. ’ ’

“Oh, my boy! my boy! You must be more careful in your statements. The idea! You mean twelve hundred pounds, and even that’s a big story. ”

“I tell you, mother, I know what I’m talking about, and it’s no exaggeration when I say they drew a seine with twelve thousand pounds in it. I’m told that they sometimes take twenty thousand pounds. It was in this way: I had just landed this fellow and was sitting in the boat admiring him, when I noticed the Italians were excited. The big fellow with the longest and blackest mustache, who stands up in the front of the head boat, as dignified as the Doge of Venice during the ceremony of wedding the Adriatic, lost his dignity enough to unfold his arms and point ahead, at the same time speaking rapidly to his crew of ten. Then you

SPORTS ON PUGET SOUND ought to have seen those fellows bend to those long sweeps, like the galley slaves Mr. Wallace describes in Ben Hur. The big head boat began to move rapidly through the water, and the scow laden with nets and things followed unwillingly, like the old Swede’s cow led by a rope. Suddenly Italiano Capitano Mustachio pointed again and this time the rowers bent fairly double, for each over his shoulder saw what the captain and I had seen — a back fin here and there breaking through the water, while a shadow, wide-spread and apparently almost black, seemed in possession of the water underneath; all the surrounding water looked light green and clear as the ocean water looks out here, but under those black back fins it was opaque. The boat and scow had now reached the school or were close to it, when three of the crew stopped rowing and sprang to that great heap of net. How they did pay it out, the cork buoys making a wide and slowly closing circle about the school, which moved slowly along ! Finally the circle was complete and the rowers shipped their oars and began to haul in on certain ropes as if for dear life. The circle of buoys grew smaller and the more active fish began darting about. A big fellow, a regular old whale, came up six or eight feet into the air and shot fifteen feet along the water, landing just inside the line of corks. If he’d been ten feet nearer the line, he’d made it, but one of the Italians put a gaff into him and then the fight began. That fish would weigh all of fifty pounds, and he was limber as an eel. The gaff held and soon the Italian, a powerful fellow, tossed him into the scow. By this time the boats had been brought together, while the circle of buoys had decreased to the size of this house. Then the gaffing began. The gaff for close work is a sharp' steel blade, about six inches long, fastened to a wooden handle of the same length. From this runs a strap around the wrist of the gaffer. He reaches over — ‘chuck!’ goes the gaff, and with a jerk he throws a fifteen or twenty pound salmon into the scow. Before that has struck, another is after it, and thus they follow, about one every two seconds. As there are four or five men at the gaffs, you can believe it don’t take long to put in a ton of salmon. I don’t think those fellows were over fifteen minutes putting in one thousand five hundred fish, and as at a low estimate tho.se fish would average eight pounds each, you can readily figure out twelve thousand pounds for the catch. While the gaffers were working, three men hauled at the seine, another manned the blood pump in the scow, and others threw back the fish. I tell you I was excited. I wish the people back east could see such a sight as that.”