David Lannarck, Midget | Page 7

a place in America that was fifteen
miles from a filling station. The oil companies are surely overlooking a
bet. Anyhow, every word you speak confirms my opinion that you live

at the right place." The two had arrived at the dining tent where a head
waiter was assigning the guests to their places among the many tables.
"We'll sit here, Tony, if you don't mind," said Davy as he ushered his
guest to a table apart from the rest. He carried a high chair from another
table and signaled a waiter. "This is what I have in mind, Mr. Welborn;
I want to run away--run away from the yaps and yokels and the
gawkers and get out where nobody can see me and where I can act just
like a man. I am twenty-nine years old. For fifteen years I have been
the 'objective' of the gawking squad. I'm sick of it. I want to run away
when I see a crowd coming. When I am on the platform, I see nothing
but dumb faces; if I am on the ground, I see nothing but legs. It's too
tough a lifetime assignment. You understand I am not complaining of
my lot as a midget, but I am fed up on the role. I want a rest--a change.
And just now, is a good time to make the change from a game where
I've grown stale. My financial affairs are in good shape, thanks to one
of the finest men in all America, and I want to lay off this freak
business until I can look on it without vomiting.
"Two things woo me to this country: your wide open spaces, where
seeing a human being is reduced to the very lowest limit; and second, I
find that in playing vaudeville houses in the winter time, I develop a
sinus trouble that sticks with me until I get back here to the mountains
where it disappears entirely. Yes sir! When I hit the table lands of
Denver, Pocatello, Casper, Rawling, Laramie, or this town, old Sinus
passes right out of the system. For the last five years I have been
planning to come to these Highlands and dig in--where humanity is the
scarcest. Just awhile ago, you described the exact spot of my dreams.
Now what's your reaction? Can I do it?"
"Do you mean that you would want to spend the winter with me, back
in the hills?" The big man's question was quietly put but he stopped
eating, awaiting the answer.
"Sure, that's what I mean. Next winter, next summer, and then some. I
want to get away from this," waving his hand in a circle to include the
showgrounds. "And get to that," and he pointed west. "I want to get out
where I can wear overalls; have a dog--or maybe five dogs--out where I

can ride a hoss and chaw scrap-tobacco and spit like a man. I want to
get away from being gawked at during all my waking hours. This thing
here, is getting on my nerves. I feel like I want to commit murder when
a simpering Jane looks at me, snickers and says, 'ain't he cute?' I want a
ball bat to club every country jake doctor that looks me over and asks
about my pituitary gland. Gee, gosh, but I do want to get away from
that. I want to exchange these human nitwits for cows, calves, sheep,
hosses,--broncho hosses, pintos--but not little round-bellied shetlands. I
want to boss around among chickens, geese, turkeys, pigs--"
"How about a couple of burros?" interrupted the listener.
"That's it! Burros! I hadn't thought of burros--me on one of
'em--slapping with my hat to get two miles to the gallon! That's it,
burros! Two of them is better!"
"And how about snows? There may be a snow yet this month that is
deeper than you are tall."
"Whoopee for the snow!" yelled the midget. "Me with a mackinaw and
boots, and mittens and a shovel. Snow! Clean white snow! I love it!
But I haven't seen any clean snow for years. All that you ever see now
is the dirty slush that they scrape off the streetcar tracks. I sure would
be disappointed, Mister Welborn, if you didn't have a lot of clean snow.
And you have some sort of a shack, don't you? And we can cut a lot of
wood, and have plenty of blankets--en books and magazines. And we
can haul out a lot of grub, and a first-aid kit and such. And you don't
have a big family, do you, Mister Welborn, and I wouldn't be much in
the way, would I?"
"No, I am all alone," said Welborn trying as best he could to answer the
many questions. "I have no family and