MILE-o-MINUTE MOM MAGAZINE

Last Update: 10/24/2004

Vol.I  #4 ~ COPYRIGHT R.F. SCHULKERS 1923 / REF. 2004

 

 

 

THE STORY OF HIS TRAVELS By "Hap" Hazard aka ZR1Randy.

 

MoM's Dream

Now that we had some money, ZR1MoM and I rode on our way a little bit happier. That night as we made camp, I counted up the money, and there was one hundred and fifty-six dollars and ten cents. I told MoM.

 

"Oh, boy," he said; "ain't we rich?  What we goin' t' do with all that money, ZR1Randy?"

 

"Don't worry about that," I an­swered, "we're going to find plenty of use for it before we go very far, MoM. First place, we need a new back tire. I'm tired o' seein' you get out every ten miles and patch up that dern wheel."

 

"Yeah," says Mom; "we'll git a new tire and wheel in the next town cause that’s where that Peter Bernard parts guy lives.  She needs an oil change and lube too Rand and I bet old Peter can help us with that.  Last time I was by this way he had about 300 oil filters in his garage"

 

"We will get that, too," I said; "and we can buy our gasoline after this.  I don't like to see you taking it out of other machines with that water gun, MoM."

 

"Why?" asked MoM. "Those fellows what own big cars don't care if we take a little gas. They never miss it, Hap."

 

"'Taint that, MoM," I said: "it's just too much like stealing, for me.  We got to quit that kind o' stuff.  We got to be honest, first off.  Else we won't get very far."

 

"Guess yer right," said MoM; "hon­esty is the best polish for a fella. Well, we will buy our gasoline till our money runs out . Then we will have to use the old water gun again."   "No," I said; "we wont have to steal any more gasoline, MoM." "How you know?" asked MoM.  "How you know we won't, Hap? When the money's all gone-" "When our money's all gone," I broke in, "we're goin' t' stop some­where and go to work and earn some more.  We can't ride all the time, you know that.  Every fella in the world has to do some work, else he ain't got no right to play.  You can see that, can't you?" MoM looked at me long before he spoke.  Then he said:

 

"Yer right, ZR1Randy.  You got good sense in your head, you have.  I'm glad I met you, Hap." "Thanks," I said; "your supper's gettin' cold.  Sit down and eat." It was a beautiful night. The air was so cool and sweet out under those trees, and I felt so lonesome.  The stars were all shining, every one it seemed, as though they all wanted to take a peep at MoM and me camp­ing here in that wild spot all by

ourselves.  Our campfire had burned low and died out.  From out of a dark clump of trees came the song of a lonely whippoorwill. And once, from far away, came the sound of a railroad whistle.  Not another sound broke the silence. We wrapped ourselves in our blankets and slept there under the stars, and it made no difference whether we had a roof over our heads or not.  No.  We were tired out from riding that blessed day. We were too tired to put up our little tent.  One thing I did was to roll up the money and wrap it up in my cap and shove it into my shirt.  Then I curled up and went to sleep.   The loud noise of a thousand dif­ferent kinds of birds woke us up.  We hurried up with our breakfast, which was only a cup of coffee and a piece of bread, and before long we had our things packed in the little auto and started once again on the road.  Such a life! "Hap," said MoM, as we got into the ZR1, "I had a dream last night."  "So did I," I said; "I dreamed I was back home with Aunt Cordy and Lem, and she whipped me for going along with you."

 

"Forgit it," said MoM; "dreams don't come true. No. They mean jist the wrong thing.  Like if you dream you find money, well that means you won't find any.  And if you dream you lost money, it means you will find some."

 

"Well," I said; "did you dream we lost our money?"

 

"No," he answered; "I dreamed we lost our dog."

 

"Well, we did," I said.

 

"Sure," said MoM, "but that was before I had the dream.  Can't you see what it means now?  It means we are goin' to find a dog."

 

"Oh sure," I said; "dreams mean just the opposite, that's what you said. So it means then that we will find a dog."

 

"Yeah," says MoM;" now, we got to find him."

 

"All right, "I said, "let's go.” He turned the ZR1 and started back over the road by which we had come yesterday.

 

"Wait a minute, MoM," I said; "you ain't goin' back home, are you?  "No," said MoM; "but I'm goin' back to that place where we saw all them dogs.  You got to help yer dreams a little, Hap, if you want 'em to come true. 

 

 You got to go to the place where you expeck you'll find the thing you dream about, see?

 

"Yes, I see," I answered; "but you ain't goin' to steal-"

 

"Nope, honest I ain't," spoke up MoM.  "Rand, you know me.  I wouldn't steal nothin'.  I'm jist goin' back to that place where we saw all them dogs. If I don't find one honest, I'm goin' up to that sporty lookin' fella, what’s named Bob Hall, an’ I’m goin to buy me a dog, see?”  “Yeah,” I said; “but that won’t make yer dream come true.  You dreamed you lost your dog.  That means you will find a dog as you say.  Well buying a dog ain’t finding it, is it?”

 

MoM stepped on the gas hard , did that 360 donut, and we shot along 3-mile-a-minute or more.  “There’s the reason that one tire got wore out so quick”, I said.

 

"You make me mad," he said; "dern if you don't make me mad some times, Hap. I just got to forgit it, though, 'cause I like you. But dern if you don't make me mad."

 

At one-hundred-sixty miles an hour it doesn't take long to get anywhere.  And so it was that we soon were at the stone house, on top of the hill, on top of whose gate were the words "Dianne Hall’s Kennels – when only the best will do" the pretty sign said.  A boy stood on the front steps of the house.  He was a fancy dressed kid.  He was having a good time for it was the Fourth of July, and he had a box of firecrackers that he wouldn't be able to shoot off for five whole days straight running, shooting one cracker every second, eight hours a day, allowing one hour for lunch. I remember wondering what on earth he wanted with so many fire crackers.  But I soon found out that he had a new idea of his own, even if it did cost his Pop some money.  As soon as he saw us come spinning up the curved driveway, he shouted, and diving his hand into the box, pulled out three or four packages of firecrackers, and lighting the whole pack at a time, threw them at us, one pack after another.  We had to do some jumping, believe me, to keep the dern things from shooting off right in our faces.  One pack fell right on the hood of the poor ZR1, and began bang-bang-banging away so that we had to duck our heads to keep the powder out of our eyes.  When I raised my head again after the last cracker had sounded, I found myself alone in the car.  And when I looked for MoM, I found him up at the door step, swing­ing a right-hander for the smart kid's jaw. But the little kid was no quitter either. No. He was a game sport. He stepped back a pace and missed MoM's fist by an inch.  Then he stepped right back and planted a slam on MoM's cheek with the flat of his hand- Oh, boy!  I saw MoM get mad then.  Yeah.  He went for that kid like a tiger.  No sir. I never want to fight Mile-o-Min­ute-MoM, because he fights just like he drives.  Yes sir.  Those arms of his sent punches so fast and furious - the lit­tle smart-aleck firecracker shooter had to back up until he bumped into the wall, and there MoM slammed him good and paid him back proper.

 

"Hey there, what's this mean?"  It was the voice of Mr. Hall, standing in the open door.   When he saw the boys break away from each other he came quickly down the steps. "Shane!" he exclaimed. "What were you fighting about?" "I'll tell you, sir," I said, as I leaped out of the auto, and walked toward him. I told him quickly what had happened to make MoM mad.  He smiled when he heard it. "But, D-d-d-daddy-" "Never mind," interrupted Mr. Hall. "Your ideas of sport are pe­culiar at times.  I don’t want you to get the fever like Jim Misled did – look how long it is took the doctors to fix him back up.  But it is good that the old Jim is coming back more every day.  He even looks a little cute again.  You go call Peter Bernard right now and get this man a new hood for his ZR1 since you ruinated it with them firecrackers."  Then he turned to me.  MoM had come away and stood by my side. "You boys must forgive my boy Shane this time.  I bought him too many firecrackers, I suppose.  And there's a lot of roman candles and sky rockets and pin wheels - say, if you kids could stay here until to­morrow, you might have lots of fun watching it all set off.  You see, my Shane there has no companions, lives out here with me all alone-." "What we came back for," broke in MoM, "was to see if we could buy a dog.  I just got to have a dog, Mister Hall. Yeah.  When I found Your Katy yest’day, I was plum happy; but when I had to give her up to you, shucks, I ain't been the same since.  So I says, I got to come back and ax’ you will you sell us fellas a dog - one like Your Katy. Mr. Hall didn't laugh.  I had thought he would, when he heard MoM speak.  But no.  He just looked hard at ZR1MoM. "Boy," he said, "do you know what you're saying?  Do you think you have enough money to buy a dog out of my kennels?  Why, you can't touch one less than $500."MoM's jaw dropped. His mouth opened wide.  His eyes had a sorrow­ful look.  He sat down on the step and dropped his chin in his hands. "So long, Mister Hall," he says; "soon as I git over the shock, I'll go away." Mr. Hall took a pipe from his pocket and lighted it.  Then he turned and walked over to where his boy was lighting some more fire crackers.  I sat down with MoM on the steps. "Come on," I said; "we might as well go, MoM.  We ain't got no $500 for a dog."

 

MoM jumped up and ran over to Mr. Hall.

 

"Listen," he says, "listen here, Mis­ter Hall.  Us boys got a hundred dollars and fifty more.  Can't you let us have a dog cheap?  Give us one like Your Katy - that's the kind I got to have - and we'll give you all we got."

I was shocked to hear him say that.  Give away all our money?  For a dog?  But before I had time to say a word, Mr. Hall spoke.

 

"Just because it's you," he said.  He looked at MoM and then at me. "Just because it's you," he repeated, "you two boys who brought back my Katy for me, and you who run the ZR1net for all of us, and since I feel I owe you something more since my boy messed up the paint on your hood with them firecrackers, why, I'll make one exception, and let you have one of my famous dogs – not for any money - for free.  Come on, look 'em over, and take your pick.

 

MoM jumped up quick. Mr. Hall started walking toward the long, low building in the rear of the house.  As we neared the place there came the barking of many dogs.  It made MoM happy, I know.  For he was crazy about dogs.

 

MoM had taken me along with him; he had done me a favor.  I couldn't tell him not to do this or not, to do that.  No.  Anyway, it was MoM who had taken Mr. Hall’s fa­mous Katy dog out of the dog-dealer's house. So I followed them to the dog ken­nels.  I bet there was a hundred dogs there, yelping for somebody to buy 'em, and it was sure a hard job for MoM to take his pick.

 

"Any of these," said Mr. Hall; "any of these you select, except My Katy.  She's not for sale, boys.  But take your pick of any of the rest of  'em."

 

MoM went slowly down the line, looking at each dog, patting this one, talking to that one, hugging this one, and telling another to lay down and shut up. They all yelped.  We went all the way down the line.  Still MoM didn't pick any out.  When we came to the last kennel, he turned to Mr. Hall and says:

 

"I like Your Katy the best.  There ain't none here I want.  If I can't have Your Katy, I don't want none."   Mr. Hall laughed.

 

"Impossible!" he said. "Why, boy, My Katy is worth a thousand dollars.  And I wouldn't sell her at twice that price­, no, not at any price.  My Katy is one of the family to me."

 

MoM hugged the dog.  We then went back up the line.  We passed every darn dog that man Hall had, and even the second time we passed 'em MoM didn't find any that he hankered for especially.

"Well," he said, as we reached the front of the house; "I wanted a dog - to buy one, y'understand, Mister Hall. But I ain't got nerve enough to for any o' them 'cept Your Katy.

 

Mr. Hall laughed and shook his head.

 

"I'1 get five hundred for any of them you saw in those kennels," he said; "I was making a special price to you sonny.  Sorry."

 

Just then there came a yelping from the front of the house.  At the same time the sound of a lot of fire­crackers exploding came to our ears.

 

"Dern that boy," said Mr. Hall.  "How'll I ever keep him out o' mis­chief - look at that, will you?  Look what he's gone and done now."

 

At that minute a funny looking pup­py came running around the corner of the house with a pack of shootin' crackers tied to his tail. The crackers were going off "bam-bam-bam," one after another and with every "bam" the dog said "YOW!!"  MoM fell upon his knees in front of the running ani­mal and caught him in his arms.  In a second he had torn the package of exploding firecrackers from the dog's tail and was hugging the poor little pup like he was a long, lost brother just come home from God-knows-where.

 

"Mr. Hall," said MoM, looking up, "I'd whip that boy o' yours if you wasn't around, yes sir.  I'd whip him till he hollered, I would.  Look a' this poor dog, will ya?  Poor puppy.  Makes no never mind now.  I got them dern shootin' things offen yer tail.  Thass all right old puppy.  ZR1MoM's yer friend.  Ya know it, dern it."

MoM hugged the dog.  He hugged the ugly pup on and on.  Yeah, the ugliest looking pup I ever saw.  I know now that it was a valuable dog. But then I didn't know one kind from another.  I knew it was ugly.  That's all.

"How much?" asked MoM, looking up at Mr. Hall.

 

"That's Mitchell," says Mr. Hall. "He ain't mine.  I can't sell him.  He belongs to my boy Shane.  You got to ask him. You go and see 'what he says.  I'll be waitin' for you in my reading room.  My coffee's getting cold."

The man knocked the ashes from his pipe and went inside.  MoM motioned for me to follow him, and, picking up the dog, he walked around to the front of the house where the boy, Shane, still stood trying to finish the job of firing off all those shooting crackers.

 

"This yer dog?" asked MoM.  "Yes, it is, if you please," said the boy. "I'll thank you for putting him on his feet and keeping your hands off.  He doesn't like to be handled like that."

 

"Well, I want to buy him," said MoM. "I'll give you $100 for him." Shane laughed loud and threw a firecracker into the air.

 

"Ha-ha," he laughed, "$100! Fancy even $1.00 in pockets like yours.  Show me the money."

 

I pulled out the roll of bills which his father had paid us for bringing back the famous My Katy dog.

 

"No!" shouted Shane. "Not by a jugful.  A hundred dollars, I should guess  Nothing less than $150 will I take for Billy Mitchell."

 

"Sold!" said MoM. "Hap, give him $150.

 

I kissed the money good-by and be­gan to count out the bills into Shane’s hand.  "HOLD on one minute there," said a voice.  We all turned and saw Mr. Hall come out of the door of the big stone house.  "Yer boy sold me the dog," said MoM. "He sold me his Billy Mitchell for one hundred and' fifty.  The bargain's made.  You can't take it back, Mister Hall."  “ No," said the man, "I don't want to do that.  But I don't allow my son to keep that much money.  It doesn't pay to allow boys to have as much money as that.  You will please hand the money to me.  You may take the dog if he has sold it."  "Yes, I've sold it," spoke up Shane, "and I want you to buy me that new ported and honed LT5 plenum from Marc Haibeck for the money, Daddy.  You said if-"  "I know," broke in the father. "Hand me the money."  I rolled the money back up the way it was-the same one hundred and fifty dollars that Mr. Hall had given us the day before as a re­ward for bringing back the My Katy dog - and I handed it to him.  I noticed that it was just the same looking roll - with the last ten-dollar bill on top with a corner off - if it was a lit­tle more of that corner gone that ten-dollar bill which was the wrapper for that roll would not have been worth a cent.  You always notice lit­tle things like that. I never will for­get that ten-dollar bill with a corner torn off.  It was the last bill on the roll-in-the wrapper, you might call it.

"Boys," said Mr. Hall, "I want to say, now that you own Billy Mitchell, that you have made no bad bargain. He is one of the best Airedales in the country - his daddy was named Harley J Earl ---and any time you want to sell that dog you can get $300 for him from anybody who knows good dogs.  If you can't, why come back to me and I'll give you that much for him."

 

"Thank you," I said, "we may have to do that, Mr. Hall.  To tell you the honest truth, that was all the money we had.  But my friend there, Mile-o-Minute-MoM, wanted the dog, so there was nothing else to do."

 

"Oh, pshaw!" said the man, "a fel­la's got to have a dog.  Your friend is right.  He knows a good dog when he sees him."

 

"I guess so," I says, "but I can't see no hundred and fifty dollars in no dog.''

 

Mr. Hall laughed. 

 

"'Course not," he said; "everybody can't see values - why, say, I'll show you some jumping horses that are worth 10 times - have you boys got time to stay here--spend the day with us, will you? It's the Fourth of July. My Shane will be glad to have some company."

 

"Chicken for dinner," says Shane, lighting another pack of firecrackers. "We kin stay," says MoM. "I don't want to take Billy Mitchell away from here so sudden.  We better hang around a while with him, Hap."

"Sure," I says, "till after dinner any how."

 

MoM smiled up at Mr. Hall. "ZR1Randy likes to eat," he says. "That's good," said Mr. Hall, laughing; "as long as he eats he won't go hungry.  Now suppose we go down and take a look at the horses."

 

Well, sir, we went down to the sta­bles, I bet they were a half mile from the house, although I couldn't swear to it, but it was a long walk.  All the way MoM carried the pup.  Seemed he wasn't going to take no chances losing the dog.  No.  And I guess he was right at that.  Any. dog what costs a hundred and fifty-you bet your sweet life you ought to carry him till you drop dead in your tracks.

 

"Here's Zora," said Mr. Hall as we entered the stable.  We were more than a little surprised to see that it wasn’t an animal horse, it was a fantastic red 1990 ZR1 horse.  And the next stall- "This is ‘Harley"', said Mr. Hall. "And yonder is his stable mate, Mac-lellan.  They both won blue ribbons over and over.  As we looked around, we saw that Bob had one of every year ZR1 – all in different colors – one named Stingray – another named SR2 – and the last named Mercury - all kept perfect inside, outside and underside too.  Would you like to drive em’, boys?"

 

"Sure," I said. Because I thought as long as we were giving him $150 for a dog we might as well take in all the extras we could get.  Bob got in with me and showed me how to sit and what to do with my feet and how to shift and everything.  I watched MoM so many times, that I learned really fast and was driving like a champ before too long.  Bob just smiled and then turned on the power key and told me to nail it again – OH BOY! – that was the thrill of my life.  I didn’t know why I saw that satisfied grin on MoM’s face every time he tromped on his ZR1, but now I know I had that look too.  It was fine.  MoM drove the 93 anniversary edition purple ZR1 and held his Airedale pup in one arm while he drove with the other.  It was fine riding.  Say, if you've never rid­den anything in your life but a lop­sided, heavy-shod, string-halted farm horse, you'll know what it is to drive a car like Zora - wasn't that the best ride I ever had?  I'll say it was.  And now I could not wait to own one of my own.  I just have to – have to have mine – and right now!

 

Dinner was called by a blast from a horn.  We all put up our ZR1’s as quickly as we could and went in. Oh boy! that dinner.  Yeah! that Fourth of July dinner .  I never have forgotten that chicken.  Dianne could really cook.

 

"And now," said Mr. Hall, after the meal was over, "we will want you boys to stay and see the evening's fireworks. Shane will need some help.  There are big skyrockets, you know-big ones, go a mile high--­and then-"

 

"Yes," said Shane, "I will have some big pinwheels to fasten to the trees.  You will stay, boys?  Do me a favor, will you?  You're good comp'ny, don't you know?"

 

Would we?  Would we stay and help this poor boy shoot off his fireworks?

 

Well, I should say we would.  And we did.  Yeah.

 

THAT was one glorious Fourth of July night we had.  Never in my life did I ever have such

a holiday. No.  Ever since my mother died I had to do without fireworks on Fourth of July.  And ZR1MoM - well, I don't think the poor kid ever had any fireworks in his life.  No.  The way he went for those roman candles - the way he sent up those great big whopper skyrockets - well, it would have done your heart good to hear him yell his happy yells and watch his big eyes at the sparks - yeah, I had a great night.  Shane Hall had a great night, too - Yeah, I watched Shane.  Selfish little kid, Shane was.  Yet he had great fun watching how happy MoM was when a rocket went skyward.  Shane was the son of a father who had plenty money, well, you know how it is.  Got it too good, and don't know it.  Outside of that Shane was, under­neath, one of the finest, boys I ever met.

 

"Guess we'll be going now," says MoM, after all the fireworks were set off.  The big grandpop's clock in the hall was sounding 11 o'clock.

 

"Going?" asked Shane.  "For heaven's sake, where are you going this time o' night?"

 

MoM turned suddenly upon him.  "We are always going," he said, in a low soft. tone; "we never reach the end, Shane.  We've got to travel, travel, travel in our ZR1 – that’s what they were made for – specially the way I got this one fixed up.  We ain't nobody, see?  We go from place to place, just me and my pal there, Hap Hazard.  That's why we wanted the dog.  Sometimes we get mad at each other.

 

It's then we need the dog, see?  Even if he did cost us a hundred and fifty."  Shane Hall’s eyes were big as pie plates.

 

"Always going," he repeated; "never reach the end - I say there, boys, how do you manage that - how can you get away from-"

 

MoM patted him on the shoulder.

“IT WOULD HAVE DONE YOUR HEART GOOD TO HEAR HIM YELL"

"Don't you ever try it," he whis­pered, "don't you ever get away from that good Daddy and Ma of your'n. No, sirree. Stick tight, right here.  Hall Kennels for you, Shane.  Me and Hap's got to hoe a row.  You sit in the shade of the grape arbor vine while the sittin's good.  Maybe you won't have it this easy all yer life."

 

Shane held us each by a hand, while his eyes were big.

 

"But-" he began, "but I don't want you to go now-not tonight­ - no, not when we have plenty of room for you, boys. Listen, the beds are made -"

 

"I hope you youngsters won't think of leaving at this hour of night," broke in a voice; it was a voice I had grown to like very much in the last few hours; yeah, the voice of Shane’s father; "we have prepared a room for you. Bed's ready now.  Come on, won't you?"

 

"Yes, sure," said Shane, giving MoM a shove; "I'll go with you and show you the room.  Take Billy Mitchell along.  Come here, Mitchell.  Where is the pup, anyway?"

 

"I got him," says MoM, smiling, "you don't need to fear about Billy Mitchell.  I bought him and paid for him, and he's mine.  Where I go he goes . There ain't goin' t' be no two ways about that, is there, Mitchell?"

 

And the dog whined, as if to say he understood his new master's words.  But, of course, I knew he didn't.  It was just the way of dogs and boys together.  Seems like, but it ain't.

 

Well, sir, the room they put us two boys in was immense.  I never slept in a place like it before nor since.  It was a swell room, with a bed like a King's bed.  And the minute I saw it I says:

 

"MoM, these is first-class people.  They don't do things by halves.  When they tell you something, they mean it."

 

"Yeah,"' says MoM, "where's Billy Mitchell goin' to sleep.  Kin he sleep on the foot o' the bed?"

 

"Let him sleep anywhere he pleases," I says, "I'm so dern tired MoM, I ain't got any get up left in me."

 

"I ain't either," says MoM, "but I want to know that Billy Mitchell is peace­ful. We got to spend a lot o' nights in rough country, Hap. And Billy Mitchell ain't goin' to git no more beds to sleep in fer a long time."

 

"Go to sleep," I says, "tomorrow's on its way."

 

MoM and his dog slept.  I'll say they slept.  Yeah.  Before I got through saying my night prayers MoM and his dog were sound asleep.  I had to push the dern pup out of the middle of the bed so's I could get plenty of room to lay down, and at that the dern dog did not even wake up.  No sir.  I guess $150 Airedales don't wake up easy.  I went right off to sleep.  The minute my head touched that fancy pillow I was sound asleep.  Yeah.  But I ain't a heavy sleeper.  The least noise will wake me up.  A fly buzzin' around a window will wake me sometimes.  Other times a piece of paper moving in the wind will make me open my eyes.  But that ain't what made me sit up this time. No. Not on your life.  No. sir, it was the opening of the door­, yes, sir, I saw it plain as day, I saw that dern door open, and for a minute I thought it was spooks - I'm always thinking maybe spooks are real things, you can never tell.

 

But, no. It wasn't a spook.  The door opened and it was Mr. Hall.  I just opened one eye. I let on like I was sleeping.  He took a peep at my bed and smiled to himself.  He thought I was sleeping.  He thought we were both asleep.  I saw him go over to the chair on which our clothes was hanging.  I saw him pick up my coat. I saw him look toward my bed ­and I closed my eyes - and when I opened them again he was gone.

 

Wake up, Rand," MoM was say­ing, "they been ringing the breakfast bell for half an hour.  Ain't you hungry, boy?"

 

"I sure am," I says.  "Why didn't you wake me sooner?"

"Sooner?" says MoM.   "Why, I been shaking you these 15 minutes.  Looka here.  I got my clothes all on.  See how long I been up?  Hurry on, git dressed"

 

I hurried into my clothes. Mr. Hall came in.

 

"We will wait breakfast on you, boys," he said.  "Take your time; I hope you both had splendid rest."

 

"We did sir," I said. "I'll be ready in a jiffy."  I hurried to the bathroom (there was a separate bathroom for us) and I took a cold shower and dried off with one of them fancy thick towels-oh boy, it was fine.  And as I stood under this cool shower I won­dered to myself where my next bath would be taken.

 

"Hello, you chaps," sang out a cheery voice, and I peeped out of the curtains and saw Shane Hall standing in the doorway.  "How's Billy Mitchell?  Fine?  Sure, that way every morning.  You'll find him a fine dog, boys. If I didn't want a new plenum I'd never have sold him, ‘pon my life."

 

Well, to make a long story short, we got away from there, after break­fast-oh boy, what a breakfast - quail on toast - or something.  I don't know what it was on the toast.

 

Half an hour later we were between us. MoM began to talk.

 

"That was some fine place, Hap," he said.

 

"Yeah," was all I said.

 

We rode along for another 20 miles.  Neither of us spoke a word.  Then ­"You liked the feed, didn't you, Hap?" asked MoM.

"Yeah I said.

 

We rode along for another 15 miles. Then­

 

"What you so grumpy about, Hap ?" asks MoM.   "Can't you talk none?" "Oh yes," I says, "when I feel like it, I talk."

 

"Well, feel like it," says MoM; "talk a little bit; it'll do you good."

"I'd best hush up," I says, "cause what I would say wouldn't suit you, MoM."

 

"Sure it would ," says MoM; "you cain't hurt my feeling's none, Rand. Shoot!"

 

"WeII, then," I says, "I think you're plum crazy to give your hundred and fifty for that dog. That's the first thing."

 

"I guess so," says MoM, "but I got to have him, Hap.  I just got to." "He's a fine dog," I says, stooping over and hugging old Billy Mitchell.  The dog looks up into my face like as if to he would say, "Thank you, man."

 

"His daddy was named Harley Earl," said MoM; "you know what that means."  "No," I says, "I don't know what that means a-tall, MoM.  All I know is that we ain't got one hundred and fifty what we had before we got Billy Mitchell."

 

"Aw, shucks," says MoM; "you got yer mind set on money, that's all."  "Yeah," I says, "But you was talk­ing about having a dream that you lost a dog, and that meant that you would find a dog."

 

"Well," says MoM, "wasn't 1 right?  Didn't we git the dog?  Ain't he here now with us, Rand?  Wasn't I right about that dream?"

"Not on your sweet life you wasn't," I said; "not by a jugful, you wasn't.  You said you lost a dog and that meant you would find a dog.  Finding a dog my eye.  Anybody could find a dog if he would pay a hundred and fifty for him."

 

"All right," said MoM in a low voice, "don't fuss with me no more Rand.  I ain't got the heart to fuss with you. So don't fuss with me no more."

 

So I didn't fuss with him no more.  But I thought a whole lot, believe me,

I did.  Yeah.  Any fella what dreams he is going to have something ain't going to get it.  And any fella what dreams he ain't going to get some­thing is going to get it-yeah, pro­viding he pays for it.  Fine stuff, this dream business.  Yeah, I should say it was!

 

I was so dern mad I couldn't see straight.  I thought about the way we had been treated fine at the Hall house.  I thought maybe that would make me feel better.  I thought about the fancy bed we had slept on - about the way Mr. Hall had come into our room while we had slept­ and as I thought about it I was shov­ing my hands into my pockets­

"MoM!" I hollers.

 

"What's a' matter, Rand?"

 

"I believe you were right, MoM," I says, as my hand closed around some­thing in my pocket, I drew it out and held it to my eyes.  MoM slowed down the ZR1 machine and bent over to take a look at what I held.

 

"He put it in my pocket," I said, "Mr. Hall did - I saw him come into our room after he thought we was asleep-he put it in my pocket MoM."

 

I held up to him the roll of money - $150. I could tell it was the same roll because of the ten-dollar bill with the one corner torn off.

 

"He give it back to us, MoM," I said; "he give us the dog for nothing - you're dream's come true, MoM, you dreamed you lost a dog and you found one.  And once again we experience the wonderful generosity and kindness of ZR1 folk"

 

"Write that down in our book, ZR1Randy," says MoM.

 

Which I did.