The Daily Transcript (Norman, Okla.), Vol. 2, No. 92, Ed. 1 Wednesday, September 23, 1914 Page: 2 of 4
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—
NORMAN DAILY TRANSCRIPT
r
The Land
of Broken
Promises
A Stirring
Story of the
Mex icon
Revolution
By
DANE COOLIDGE
jiuUme «f Tb« Flfbrtn® Hoof Hkldnt
Wnm. " "Tba Tufctt." tic.
-
<Coprristu. 1914. by Frank A. Mwwcy.)
U
CHAPTER XXVII—Continued.
Hy the signs the land ahead was full
of bandits and ladrones, men to whom
human life was nothing and a woman
no more sacred than a brute. At the
pass all trails converged, from the
north and from the south. Not by any
chance could a man pass over it In the
daytime without meeting some one on
the way, and If the base revoltosos
once set eyes on Gracla it would take
more than a nod to restrain them.
So, in a sheltered ravine they sought
cover until it was dark, and while
Gracla slept, the heavy-headed Bud
watched the plain from the heights
above.
As he watched he dreamed of a
home In which this woman now sleep-
ing beside him was the queen. He
dreamed of years to come with un-
bounded happiness throughout all of
them. Thoughts of Phil and duty to
his pardnei* were far away. Nothing
on the plain below served to distract
him from this dream of happiness.
As far as he could see there was
nothing that savored of danger for
the woman In his keeping. There
were no sounds or signs of either
federal or revolutionary troops, from
both of which they were fleeing, and
from both of which he must guard
her. Again they were In a world that
was all their own. an Eden with but
one man and one woman.
For an hour and more he watched
and dreamed, and with the dreams
came the desire for sleep, the cry of
nature for rest. Gracla stirred, then
<ipoke softly to him, calling him by
name, and her voice was as music
far away.
When she awoke and found him nod-
ding Gracia Insisted upon taking his
place. Now that she had been re-
freshed her dark eyes were bright and
sparkling, but Bud could hardly see.
The long watching by night and by day
had left his eyes bloodshot and swol-
len, with lids that drooped In spite of
him. If he did not sleep now he
might doze In the saddle later, or ride
blindly Into some rebel camp; so he
made her promise to call him and lay
down to rest until dark.
The stars were all out when he
awoke, startled by her hand on his
hair, but she reassured htm with a
word and led him up the hill to their
lookout It was then that he under-
stood her silence. In the brief hours
during which he had slept the de-
serted country seemed suddenly to
have come to life.
By daylight there had been nothing
to suggest the presence of men.
But now as the velvet night set-
tled down upon the land It brought
out the glimmering specks of a hun-
dred camp-fires to the east and to the
north. But the fires to which Gracla,
pointed were set fairly in their trail,
and they barred the way to Gadsden.
"Look!" she said. "1 did not want
to wake you, but the flres have sprung
up everywhere. These last ones are
right in the pass."
"When did you see them?" asked
Hooker, his head still heavy with
sleep. "Have they been there long?"
"No; only a few minutes," she an-
swered. "At sundown 1 saw those over
to the eaBt—they are along the base
of that big black mountain—but these
flashed up Just now; and see, there
are more, and more!"
"Some outfit coming in from the
north," said Bud. "They've crossed
over the pass and camped at the first
•water this side."
"Who do you think they are?" asked
Gracla in an awed voice. "Insurrec-
tos'.'"
"Like as not," muttered Bud, gazing
from encampment to encampment.
"But whoever they are," he added,
"they're no friends of ours. We've got
to go around them."
"And if we can't?" suggested Gra-
cia.
' "I reckon we'll have to go through,
then," answered Hooker grimly. "We
don't want to get caught here in the
morning."
"Ride right through their camp?"
gasped Gracia.
"Let the sentries get to sleep," he
went on, half to himself. "Then, just
before the moon comes up. we'll try to
edge around them, and if It comes to
a showdown, we'll ride for it! Are
you game?"
He turned to read the answer, and
ehe drew herself up proudly.
"Try me!" she challenged, drawing
nearer to him In the darkness. And so
they stood, side by side, while their
hands clasped in promise. Then, as
the night grew darker and no new
fires appeared, Hooker saddled up the
■well-fed horses and they picked their
Tvay down to the trail.
The first flres were far ahead, but
|they proceeded at a walk, their horses'
feet falling silently upon the sodden
ground. Not a word was spoken and
they halted often to listen, for others,
too, might be abroad. The distant
fires were dying now, except a few
phei'e men mse to feed them.
j The braying of burros came in from
| the flats to the right and as the fugi-
tives drew near the first encampment
they could hear the voices of the night
guards as they rode about the horse
herd. Then, as they waited impatient-
ly, the watch-fires died down, the
guards no longer sang their high fal-
setto, and even the burros were still.
This was their opportunity. If they
were to get through that line of sleep-
ing men it must be done by stealth.
Should they be discovered it would
mean one man against an army to
protect the woman, and the odds, great
as they were, must be taken If need
be.
It was approaching the hour of mid-
night, and as their horses twitched res-
tively at the bits they gave them the
rein and rode ahead at a venture.
At their left the last embers of the
flreB revealed the sleeping forms of
men; to their right, somewhere In the
darkness, was the night herd and the
herders. They lay low on their horses'
necks, not to cast a silhouette against
the sky, and let Copper Bottom pick
the trail.
With ears that pricked and swlveled,
and delicate nostrilB snuffing the Mex-
ican taint, he plodded along through
the greasewood, divining by some In-
stinct his master's need of care. The
camp was almost behind them, and
Bud had straightened up in the sad-
dle, when suddenly the watchful Cop-
per Bottom jumped and a man rose up
from the ground.
"Who goes there?" he mumbled,
swaying sleepily above his gun, and
Hooker reined his horse away before
he gave him an answer.
"None of your business," he growled
Impatiently. "I am going to the pass."
And as the sentry stared stupidly after
him he rode on through the bushes,
neither hurrying nor halting until he
gained the trail.
"Good luck!" he observed to Gracla,
when the camp was far behind. "He
took me for an officer and never saw
you at all."
"No, I flattened myself on my pony,"
answered Gracla# with a laugh. "He
thought you were leading a pack-
horse."
"Good," chuckled Hooker; "you did
fine! Now, don't say another word—
because they'll notice a woman's voice
—and if we don't run into some more
of them we'll soon be climbing the
pass."
They had passed through some per-
ilous moments, but Gracla had hardly
realized the danger because of the as-
surance of Hooker, who was careful
not to frighten her unnecessarily. But
it was an assurance which he had not
felt himself, and he was not yet cer-
tain of their safety.
The waning moon came out as they
left the wide valley behind them, and
then it disappeared again as they rode
into the gloomy shadows of the can-
yon. For an hour or two they plodded
slowly upward, passing through nar-
row defiles and into moonlit spaces,
and still they did not mount the sum-
mit.
In the east the dawn began to break
and they spurred on in almost a panic.
The Mexican palsanos count them-
selves late if they do not take the trail
at sunup—what if they should meet
some straggling party before they
reached the pass?
Bud Jumped Copper Bottom up a
series of cat steps; Gracla's roan came
scrambling behind; and then, just as
the boxed walls ended and they gained
a level spot, they suddenly found them-
selves in the midst of a camp of Mex-
icans—men, saddles, packs, and rifles,
all scattered at their feet.
"Buenos dias!" saluted Bud, as the
blinking men rose up from their
blankets. "Excuse me, amigos, I am
in a hurry!"
"A donde va? A donde va?" chal-
lenged a bearded man as he sprang up
from his brush shelter.
"To the pass, senor," answered Hook-
er, still politely, but motioning for
Gracia to ride on ahead. "Adios!"
"Who Is that man?" bellowed the
bearded leader, turning furiously upon
his followers. "Where is my senti-
nel? Stop him!"
But it was too late to stop him. Bud
laid his quirt across the rump of the
roan and spurred forward in a dash for
cover. They whisked around the point
of a hill as the first scattered shots
rang out; and, as a frightened sentinel
jumped up in their path Bud rode him
down. The man dropped his gun to
escape the fury of the charge and In
a mad clatter they flung themselves
at a rock-slide and scrambled to the
bench above. The path was rocky,
but they pressed forward at a gallop
until, as the sun came up, they beheld
the summit of the pass.
"We win!" cried Bud, as he spurred
up the last incline.
As he looked over the top he ex-
ploded in an oath and jerked Copper
Bottom back on his haunches. The
leader of a long line of horsemen was
just coming up the other side—there
was no escape—and then back at the
frightened girl.
"Keep behind me," he commanded,
"and don't shoot. I'm going to hold
'em up!"
He jumped his horse out to one side
and landed squarely on the rim of the
ridge. Gracia drew her horse in be-
hind him and reached for the pistol In
her holster; then both together they
drew their guns and Bud threw down
on the first man.
"Go on!" he ordered, motioning him
forward with his head; "pr-r-ronto!"
He jerked out his rifle with his left
hand and laid it across his lap.
"Hurry up now," he raged, as the
startled Mexican halted. "Go on and
keep a going, and the first man that
makes a break I'll shoot him full ut
holes!"
He sat like a statue on his shining
horse, his six-shooter balanced to shoot,
and something In his very presence—
the bulk of his body, the forward
thrust of his head, and the burning
hate of his eyes—quelled the spirits
of the rebels. They were a rag-tag
army, mounted on horses and donkeys
und mules and with arms of every
known make.
It was Just such an army as was
overrunning all northern Mexico, such
an army as bad been levying tribute
on the land for a century. They spread
terror throughout all that great coun-
try south of the American border.
The fiery glances of the American
made them cringe as they had always
cringed before their masters, and his
curses turned their blood to water. He
towered above them like a giant, pour-
ing forth a torrent of oaths and beck-
oning them on their way, and the lead-
er was the first to yield.
With hand half-raised and jaw on
his breast he struck spurs to his fright-
ened mule and went dashing over the
ridge.
The others followed by twos and
threes, some shrinking, some protest-
ing. some gazing forth villainously
from beneath their broad hats. As they
looked back he whirled upon them and
swore he would kill the first man that
dared to turn his head.
After all, they were a generation of
slaves, those low-browed, unthinking
peons, and war had not made thern
brave. They passed on, the whole
line of bewildered soldiery, looking in
vain for the men that were behind the
American, staring blankly at the beau-
tiful woman who sat so courageously
by his side.
When the last had gone by Bud
picked up his rifle and watched him
around the point. Then he smiled
grimly at Gracia, whose eyes were still
round with wonder, and led the way
down the trail.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
The high pass and the Ineurrectos
were behind them now and the rolling
plains of Agua Negra were at their
feet. To the northeast the smoke ban-
ners of the Gadsden smelters lay like
ribbons across the sky, and the line
waB not far away.
Yet, as they came down from the
mountains, Bud and Gracia fell silent
and slackened their slashing pace. Tho
time for parting was near, and part-
ings are always sad.
But ten miles across the plain lay
Gadsden and Phil—Phil to whom Gra-
cia was promised. There had been no
thoughts of him from the time they
sat together under the horse-blankets
waiting for the rain to pass until now
that the dangers were virtually over,
and but a short time more would place
them beyond the reach of either ru-
rales or rebels. Bud thought of the
duty he owed his pardner, even though
that pardner had played him false.
Great as was his longing for Gracia,
he could not forget that duty. Their
companionship had been but a thing
to forget if he could, or at best he
could only remember the sweetness
of it, and must forget the dreams he
had dreamed as he watched beside
Gracia in the hills. He was taking her
to Phil, and all else must be sacrificed
for duty.
Bud looked far out across the valley
to where a train puffed in from the
south, and the sight of It made him un-
easy. He watched still as it lay at the
station and, after a prolonged Btare In
the direction of Agua Negra. he reined
sharply to the north.
"What Is it?" asked Gracia, coming
out of her reverie.
"Oh, nothing," answered Bud. slump-
ing down in his saddle. "I see the rail-
road is open again—they might be
somebody up there looking for us."
"You mean—"
"Well, say a bunch of rurales."
He turned still farther to the north
as he spoke and spurred his jaded
horse on. Gracia kept her roan be-
side htm, but he took no notice, ex-
cept as he scanned the line with his
bloodshot eyes. He was a hard-look-
ing man now, with a rough stubble of
beard on his face and a sullen set to
his jaw. As two horsemen rode out
from distant Agua Negra he turned
and glanced at Gracia.
"Seems like we been on the run
ever since we left Fortuna," he said
with a rueful smile. "Are you good
for just one more?"
"What is it now?" she inquired
pulling herself together with an effort
"Are those two men coming out to
meet us? Do you think they'd stop
us?"
"That's about our luck," returned
Hooker. "But when we dip out of sight
in this Bwale here we'll turn north and
hit for the line."
"All right," she agreed. "My horse
is tired, but I'll do whatever you say,
Bud."
She tried to catch his eyes at this,
but he seemed lost in contemplation of
the horsemen.
"Them's rurales," he said at last,
"and heading straight for us-tut
we've come too far to get caught now.
Come on!" he added bruskly, and went
galloping up the swale.
For two miles they rode up the
wash, their heads below the level of the
plain, but as Bud emerged at the mouth
of the gulch and looked warily over
the cut bank he suddenly reached for
his rifle and measured the distance to
the line.
"They was too foxy for me," he mut-
tered, as Gracla looked over at the
approaching rurales. "But I can stand
'em off," he added, "so you go ahead."
"No!" she cried, coming out In open
rebellion. "Well, I won't leave you—
that's all!" she declared, as he turned
to command her. "Oh, come along,
Bud!" She laid an Impulsive hand
on his arm and he thrust his gun back
into the sling with a thud.
"All right!" he said. "Can't stop to
talk about It. Go ahead—and flay the
hide off of that roan!"
They were less than a mile from the
line, but the rurales had foreseen their
ruse in dropping into the gulch and
had turned at the tame time to Inter-
cept them. They were pushing their
fresh horses to the utmost now across
the open prairie, and as the roan
lagged and faltered In his stride Bud
could see that the race was lost.
"Head for that monument!" he
called to Gracla, pointing toward one
of the International markers as he
taced their pursuers. "You'll make It
—they won't shoot a woman!"
He reached for his gun as he spoke.
"No, no!" she cried. "Don't you
stop! If you do I will! Come on!"
► he entreated, checking her horse to
wait for him. "You ride behind me—
they won't dare shoot at us then!"
Bud laughed shortly and wheeled in
behind her, returning his gun to Its
sling.
"All right," he said, "we'll ride it out
together then!"
He laid the quirt to the roan. In the
whirl of racing bushes a white monu-
ment flashed up suddenly before them
The rurales were within pistol shot
and whipping like mad to head them.
Another flgure came flying along the
line, a horseman, waving his hands
and motioning. Then, riding side by
side, they broke across the bou-dary
with the baffled rurales yelling savage-
ly at their heels.
"Keep a going!" prompted Hooker,
as Gracia leaned back to check her
horse; "down into the gulch there—
them rurales are liable to shoot yet!"
The final dash brought them to
cover, but as Bud leaped down and
Gracia Watched Them With Jealous
Eyes.
took Gracla In his arms the roan
spread his feet, trembled, and dropped
heavily to the ground.
"He'll be all right," soothed Bud, as
Gracia still clung to his arm. Then,
as he saw her gaze fixed beyond him.
he turned and beheld Philip De Lan-
cey.
It was the same Phil, the same man
Bud had called pardner, and yet
when Hooker saw him there he stif-
fened and his face grew hard.
"Well?" he said, slowly detaching
Gracia's fingers and putting her hand
away.
As Phil ran forward to greet them
he stepped sullenly off to one side.
What they said he did not know, for
his mind was Buddenly a blank; but
when Phil rushed over and wrung his
hand he came back to earth with a
start.
"Bud!" cried De Lancey ecstatical-
ly, "how can I ever thank you enough!
You brought her back to me, didn't
you, old man? Thank God you're safe
—I've been watching for you with
glasses ever since I heard you had
started! I knew you would do it,
pardner; you're the best friend a man
ever had! But—say, come over here a
minute—I want to speak to you."
He led Hooker off to one side, while
Gracia watched them with jealous
eyes, and lowered his voice as he
spoke.
"It was awful good of you, Bud," he
whispered, "but I'm afraid you've got
in bad! The whole town Is crazy about
it. Old Aragon came up on the first
train, and now they've wired that you
killed Del Rey. By jove, Bud, wasn't
that pulling It a little strong? Captain
of the rurales, you know—the whole
Mexican government is behind him—
and Aragon wants you for kidnaping!"
"What's that?" demanded Gracia, as
she heard her own name spoken.
Bud looked at Phil, who for once
was at a loss for words, and then he
answered slowly.
"Your father is down at the station."
he said, "looking for—you."
"Well, he can't have me!" cried Gra-
cla defiantly. "I'm across the line
now! I'm free! 1 can do what I
please!"
"But there's the immigration office,"
interposed Phil pacifically. "You will
have to go there—and your father has
claimed you were kidnaped!"
"Ha! Kidnaped!" laughed Gracia,
who had suddenly recovered her
spirits. "And by whom?"
"Well—by Hud here," answered De
Lancey Hesitatingly.
Gracia turned as he spoke and sur-
veyed Hooker with a mocking smile.
Then she laughed again.
"Never mind.," she Bald, "I'll fix that.
I'll tell them that 1 kidnaped him!"
"No. but seriously!" protested De
Lancey, as Bud chuckled hoarsely.
"You can't cross the line without being
passed by the inspectors, and—well,
your father Is there to get you back."
"But I will not go!" flung back Gra-
cla.
"Oh my dear girl!" cried De Lan-
cey, frowning In hl perplexity, "you
don't understand, and jou make It aw-
iul bard for me. You know they're
very strict now—so many low women
coming across the line, foi^—well, the
fact is, unless you are married you
can't come In at all!"
"But I'm In!" protested Gracla
flushing hotly. "I'm—"
"They'll deport you," said De Lan-
cey, stepping forward to give her sup-
port
"I know It's hard, dear," he went
on, aa Bud moved hastily away, "but
I've got it all arranged. Why should
we wait? You came to marry me,
didn't you? Well, you must do It now
—right away! I've got the license and
the priest all waiting—come on before
the rurales get back to town and re-
port that you've crossed the line. We
can ride around to the north and come
In at the other side of town. Then
we—" ,
"Oh, no, no!" cried Gracla, pushing
him Impulsively aside. "I am not
ready now. And—"
She paused and glanced at Bud.
"Mr. Hooker," she began, walking
gently toward him, "what will you do
now?"
"I don't know," answered Hooker
huskily.
"Will you come with us—will you—"
"No," said Bud, shaking his bead
slowly.
"Then I must say good-by?"
She waited, but he did not answer.
"You have been so good to me," she
went on, "so brave, and—have I been
brave, too?" she broke in pleadingly.
Hooker nodded his head, but he did
not meet her eyes.
"Ah, yes," she sighed. "You have
heard what Phil has said. I wish now
that my mother were here, but—would
you mind? Before I go I want to—give
you a kiss!"
She reached out her bands Impul-
sively and Hooker started back. His
eyes, which had been downcast, biased
suddenly as he gazed at her, and then
they flitted to Phil.
"No," he said, and his voice was life-
less and choked.
"You will not?" she asked, after a
pause.
"No!" he said again, and she shrank
away before his glance.
"Then good-by," she murmured, turn-
ing away like one In a dream, and Bud
heard the crunch of her steps as she
went toward the horses with Phil.
Then, as the tears welled to his eyes,
he heard a resounding slap and a rush
of approaching feet.
"No!" came the voice of Gracla,
vibrant with Indignation. "I say no!"
The spat of her hand rang out again
and then, with a piteous sobbing, she
came running back to Bud, halting
with the stlfTness of her long ride.
"I hate you!" she screamed, at Phil
came after her. "Oh, I hate you! No,
you shall never have the kiss! What!
if Bud here has refused It, will I give
a kiss to you? Ah, you poor, miserable
creature!" she cried, wheeling upon
him in a Budden fit of passion. "Where
were you when I was in danger?
Where were you when there waB no
one to save me? And did you think,
then, to steal a kiss, when my heart
was sore for Bud? Ah, coward! You
are no fit pardner! No, I will never
marry you—never! Well, go then!
And hurry! Oh, how I hate you—to
try to steal me from Bud!"
She turned and threw her arms
about Hooker's neck and drew his
rough face down to her.
"You do love me, don't you, Bud?"
she sobbed. Oh, you are so good—
so brave! And now will you take the
kiss?"
"Try me!" said Bud.
THE END.
3.500 MILE WD
U. S. Building Highway From
New York to California.
Lincoln Highway Retraces Much of
Route of Old Overland Trail From
Point Near Chicago to San
Francisco.
New York.—Hitherto America, like
Canada, has Ignored trunk roads and
promoted railroads. It was charac-
teristic of her that she should seize
the swiftest thing first—that the rail-
way should precede the highway In
surmounting the crest of the con-
tinent. Uncle Sam coolly reversed
the policy of every kingdom and re-
public which slnoe Roman days haa
drawn its military highways across
its Boll. He has not built an inch ot
national road since the time of Thom-
as Jefferson. It Is now 44 years since.
In Utah, the transcontinental locomo-
tives met for the first time between
the oceans, "half a world behind each
back" as Bret Harte put It. But not
until this year of grace 1914 has the
ocean-to-ocean road followed the lead
of the Iron rail and supplanted the
series of ragged and primitive trails
stretching from the riBlng to the set-
ting sun.
The Lincoln highway retraces
much of the route of the old Over-
land Trail from a point near Chicago
to San Francisco. That trail was
constructed long before the days of
the red or white man by the most un-
erring road engineer the world has
ever known—the migratory buffalo.
The bison, Indeed, was a regular
transcontinental traveler when the
earth was young. He marched along
the lines of least resistance to the
Rockies. He discovered water. He
discovered mountain passes. He
found all the bases of supply which
have since been utilized by man, even
Indicating, long before the birth of
Moses, the actual course which the
future railroad Bhould follow. Along;
the ancient trail beaten Into the sod
by myriad hoofs followed the moc-
casined feet of Indian trapper and ex-
plorer, followed the "prairie schoon-
ers" of homeseekers, the hand carts
of Mormons painfully seeking their
promised land, followed the thunder
of the Btage coach, the whirlwind
rush of the pony express that car-
ried for $100 the letter that now costs
WORLD'S WONDER IN OREGON
Hottest Springs on Earth Said to Have
Been Located Seventy Mllea
From Portland.
Springs hot enough to cook beans
and boil eggs in three minutes have
been found within a short distance of
Portland, Ore. They are on the Clack-
amas river, 30 miles south of Esta-
cada and 70 miles from Portland.
These springs are 50 in number,
and one throws out a stream seven
inches in diameter. The springs have
been known to the Indians for many
years. A French halfbreed named
Michel Arquetto, a trapper, hearing an
old Indian of the Molalla tribe speak
of hot springs this side of the range,
made an investigation and found
them.
The springs are supposed to be the
hottest in the world—220 degrees.
Beans have been cooked in the larg-
er spring with the same dispatch as
on a stove. Eggs, enceaBed in a mesh
of any kind, have been djfcked in three
minutes. Even fish have been caught
in the Clackamas river and without
being taken off the line have been
dropped into the spring and in a very
brief time cooked to a turn.
The waters come from solid rock
and are strongly impregnated with
salts, but not of sufficient strength
to make the taste objectionable.
Many Btories are told by the Indians
with regard to the wonderful proper-
ties of these springs and they have
been known to cross the mountains
from the reservation on the other side
to bathe in the waters of the "Big
Hole." as they call it
Prefer loss before unjust gain; foi
that brings grief but ones; this for-
ever.— Child
The Ames Monument in Wyoming.
Erected to the Builders of the Union
Pacific Railway.
a penny, the booming whistle of the
American train, then the buggy and
wagon of the farmer, and, last of all,
the "petrol prairie schooner"—the Ir-
resistible motor car.
The story of the Overland Trail la
one of the most moving and thrilling
in the history of the Anglo-Saxon
race.
Happily all that belongs to the
past Yet when the trail was
"struck" a few years after the first
motor car had coughed its way la-
boriously across there were still tha
primitive track, the vast blue-and-
pink rolling spaces, the lonely mili-
tary outpost and the abandoned
"pony-expresB" station or the melan-
choly water-hole on the tawny Neva-
dan desert of the wild horse to point
the moral and adorn the tale. Only
sporadic attempts had been made to
adapt the early trail to modern traf-
fic. To cross America was to risk
breaking one's neck. There were
bottomless gumbo-mud and confusing
section roads on the prairies. There
were dim cow trails through Wyo-
ming sage brush, a thousand unbridged
gullies in the mountain wastes of
Utah. There were trackless deserts
and dangerous alkali "sinks" In Ne-
vada and break-neck "pitches" In tho
lofty Sierras. No signposts, naviga-
tion by the sun, abominable "steak"
and coffee for wayside fare, rarely a
decent hotel, always a bewildering
sense of "lostness," and not twenty
miles of really good road In over
two thousand miles.
The central government turned a
deaf ear to America's crying need—
a transcontinental highway. The peo-
ple then determined to build a peo-
ple's highway. The project began
with a,handful of automobile manu-
facturers.
What more natural than that tha
old pioneer trail which ran through
the heart of the country should be
chosen for the people's highway?
Running from New York through
Philadelphia, Gettysburg and Pitts-
burgh it crosses the Mississippi at
Clinton and passes through the gates
of the west at Omaha to Cheyenne,
or Denver, Salt Lake . City, Reno,
Sacramento, to San Francisco. It
diverges from the overland once by
following the South Platte river in
Nebraska Instead of the North Platte
through the famous South Pass of
Brigham Young, and again by sweep-
ing south of Salt Lake Into Nevada,
Instead of north to Pocatello on the
Oregon trail, where began the "cut-
off" to tha gold mines of California.
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Reference the current page of this Newspaper.
Burke, J. J. The Daily Transcript (Norman, Okla.), Vol. 2, No. 92, Ed. 1 Wednesday, September 23, 1914, newspaper, September 23, 1914; (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc112803/m1/2/: accessed April 24, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.