THE PICTURE THAT WALKED 



717 



"Yup. Fishin's fallin' off." 



"Darned river's fished to death." 



Rube took a chew and nodded. He thought a moment. 



"Ye-s, she's fished hard ; fished to death. . . . Mind 

 that branch of Killdog back in the elm stretch where we 

 used to catch them big ones? Huh? By darn, if a fire 

 didn't run through there last fall and lick up everything 

 clean. Makes it good fishin' . . . fine fishin' ; them fly 

 fishermen never gets hung up. . . . Only, they ain't any 

 fish left in it, not to amount to anythii^g. , . . . ." 



Everybody was bored. Here was Rube, the offender, 

 and they wanted to talk settlers to him and he was only 

 interested in fish and fire and tourists. 



And then he popped this at them: 



"Got a letter from th' Company today." The mood of 

 the group tensed. "Yup, a real, long letter, th' one I've 

 been expectin' for a year an' more. They're goin' to 

 stop sellin' this cut-over land to settlers." 



An instant of terrible silence. 



him, an' he sure was that! I watched him a long time 

 an' I'm goin' to practice on you with what I learnt. . . . 

 Now up here, you see," gesturing to the emptiness be- 

 fore him "I got a easel an' a frame with cloth on it on 

 the easel. Back here's my paint pot?;, in thjs .hand's the. 

 dingus with paint smeared onto it, an' in this hand I 

 hold my brush. Now watch . . ." 



Of course, all the boys thought Rulie had gone dotty. 

 For days after that imaginary picture painting they 

 would laugh at the absurdity of the thing despite the 

 hopelessness which was in the heart of each man. Old 

 Rube had gone off the handle, for sure ! Painting pic- 

 tures ! And that kind ! When everybody knew that 

 towns like Blueberry lived on two things : forests and 

 farms. The forests were gone, the farms didn't amount 

 to much, but Rube had talked the Company into giving 

 up any attempt to make them amount to enough to sup- 

 port the town. And when they had tried to talk back to 

 him and show him where he was wrong, he had said : 



"THE TOWN HAD CHANGED. SO.MEBODY BOUGHT A TUMBLED DOWN HOUSE. A STKANGEU CAME IN AND OPENED 

 AN ICE-CREAM PARLOR RIGHT UNDER THE HO.ME BOYS' NOSES." 



"Stop?" exploded Mel Corbin. 



Rube nodded. "Stop. It's worse'n sellin' poisoned 

 candy to kids, boys. The land growed pine and she won't 

 grow another darned thing ! She dries out in summer, 

 she frosts late in spring an' early in fall. God didn't 

 mean it to be farmed." 



Consternation ; discussion. 



A moan finally escaped Mclntyre. "That finishes Blue- 

 berry," he said and rose. 



Rube was whittling on a sliver, then, and he hadn't 

 appeared to hear all the hard things that were said about 

 the Company and the innuendoes against him until Bisbee 

 rose abruptly and started home. Then Pottle spoke. 



"Oh, Art!" 



"Well, what now?" irritably. 



"Don't rush off. I got somethin' to show you boys." 

 He folded his knife and rose, hitching up his pants. 

 "Once, when I was in Saginaw, I seen a fella in a store 

 window paintin' pictures. Lightnin' artist, they called 



"Look at your bills payable and see how the settlers 

 are makin' it. Look at yourselves and see what chance 

 you've got to move. You're sunk, every one of you. 

 I'm sunk, too. Blueberry's sunk . . . sunker than 

 sunk ! . . . Then look at my picture !" He had 

 waved his arm at the imaginary easel before him and 

 laughed. 



Well, Rube had been right about the land. It wouldn't 

 work up into farms. One by one the settlers pulled out, 

 leaving bills and hopes behind. A big outfit leased graz- 

 ing rights for five years. One year their sheep and 

 cattle did very well . . . for a few weeks. At the 

 end of five years they had sold off the stock and turned 

 the ranch buildings into a private fishing and hunting 

 club .... 



The buildings in Blueberry began to tumble down. 

 The cedar was gone, by then. The stores were smaller 

 and dingier and less prosi^erous. Of course, the hard- 

 ware store was keeping alive by its stock of tackle 



