CHAPTER IX
THE RETURN--ERNEST NICHOLSON
I left St. Louis about April first with about three thousand dollars inthe bank and started again for Oristown, this time to stay. I had justpaid Jessie a visit and I felt a little lonely. With the grim reality ofthe situation facing me, I now began to steel my nerves for a lot of newexperience which soon came thick and fast.
Slater met the train at Oristown, and as soon as he spied me he informedme that I was a lucky man. That a town had been started ajoining my landand was being promoted by his brother and the sons of a former IowaGovernor, and gave every promise of making a good town, also, if I caredto sell, he had a buyer who was willing to pay me a neat advance overwhat I had paid. However, I had no idea of parting with the land, but Iwas delighted over the news, and the next morning found me among DadDurpee's through stage coach passengers, for Calias, the new townjoining my homestead, via Hedrick and Kirk. As we passed through HedrickI noticed that several frame shacks had been put up and some betterbuildings were under way. The ground had been frozen for five months, sosod-house building had been temporarily abandoned.
It was a long ride, but I was beside myself with enthusiasm. Caliasfinally loomed up, conspicuously perched on a hill, and could be seenlong before the stage arrived, and was the scene of much activity. Ithad been reported that a colored man had a claim adjoining the town onthe north, so when I stepped from the stage before the postoffice, themany knowing glances informed me that I was being looked for. A fellowwho had a claim near and whom I met in Oristown, introduced me to thePostmaster whose name was Billinger, an individual with dry complexionand thin, light hair. Then to the president of the Townsite Company,second of three sons of the Iowa Governor.
My long experience with all classes of humanity had made me somewhat ofa student of human nature, and I could see at a glance that here was aperson of unusual agressiveness and great capacity for doing things. Ashe looked at me his eyes seemed to bore clear through, and as he asked afew questions his searching look would make a person tell the truthwhether he would or no. This was Ernest Nicholson, and in the followingyears he had much to do with the development of the Little Crow.
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