"Must have written that down and learned it off," Bassett said
admiringly. "What the devil's the Clark place? And why should I go
there? Unless," he added, "they serve a decent meal."
"Sorry." The clerk looked at him sharply, was satisfied, and picked up a
pen. "You'll hear the story if you stay around here any time. Anything I
can do for you?"
"Yes. Fire the cook," Bassett said, and moved away.
He spent the evening in going over his notes and outlining a campaign,
and the next day he stumbled on a bit of luck. His elderly chambermaid
had lived in and around the town for years.
"Ever hear of any Livingstones in these parts?" he asked.
"Why, yes. There used to be a Livingstone ranch at Dry River," she said,
pausing with her carpet sweeper, and looking at him. "It wasn't much of
a place. Although you can't tell these days. I sold sixty acres eight
years ago for two thousand dollars, and the folks that bought it are
getting a thousand a day out of it."
She sighed. She had touched the hem of fortune's garment and passed on;
for some opportunity knocked but faintly, and for others it burst open
the door and forced its way in.
"I'd be a millionaire now if I'd held on," she said somberly. That day
Bassett engaged a car by the day, he to drive it himself and return it
in good condition, the garage to furnish tires.
"I'd just like to say one thing," the owner said, as he tried the gears.
"I don't know where you're going, and it's not exactly my business. Here
in the oil country, where they're cutting each other's throats for new
leases, we let a man alone. But if you've any idea of taking that car by
the back road to the old fire station where Jud Clark's supposed to have
spent the winter, I'll just say this: we've had two stuck up there for a
week, and the only way I see to get them back is a cyclone."
"I'm going to Dry River," Bassett said shortly.
"Dry River's right, if you're looking for oil! Go easy on the brakes,
old man. We need 'em in our business."
Dry River was a small settlement away from the railroad. It consisted
of two intersecting unpaved streets, a dozen or so houses, a closed and
empty saloon and two general stores. He chose one at random and found
that the old Livingstone place had been sold ten years ago, on the death
of its owner, Henry Livingstone.