Up at Weston, a little town of l,200 population and a wheat center, there was a Normal School - and a training school for teachers, and a large public school. Weston was about 27 miles beyond Pendleton. My Mother told Dad to go up and see what the town looked like.

A few mornings later Dad smacked Ma a peck on the cheek and took the stage for Weston. After he had been gone several days we got a letter from him saying he had bought a house and several lots about three blocks from the State Normal School. Also a confectionary and bowling alley business, and that he would not come back, and for my Ma to pack things and hire someone to haul them to Weston.

Was my Ma peeved! She said she had a notion not to budge, but she didn't mean it. She didn't like Pilot Rock, but she didn't like the idea of packing and looking after things. She went ahead, packed things, made arrangements to haul everything to Pendleton and from there on by freight train. Also Freddie Alcut took the folks to Pendleton in a big hack. From there they went to Weston on the train. We were only at Pilot Rock between six and seven months.

It was left to me to get the pony, and the cow and calf to Weston and I started the same day the folks left by hack. Making the trip with Freadie in the hack were: Ma; Faye age ll; Amos 8; Bernard who was 3; and Dean who was less than l year. (I was 13). The first day I landed in Pendleton and put my pony, cow and calf in Huston's feed stable. I went up the hill and stayed all night with the Despains. They and the Sellers were great friends. The two families grew up together - were just like one.

Along in the night I woke up and had to goto the privy. Well there wasn't any here, so rather than wake any of them up, and having never used one of those new-fangled toilets, I didn't want them to know it so I slipped outside and sat down by the side of the house. Next morning at breakfast Jennie, or Mrs. Despain, asked me if I were sick. I said no, I had to go to the privy so sat down by the side of the house. They all laughted. Chas. took me to the toilet, showed me how it worked - much to my embarrassment.

After breakfast a couple of the boys went with me to the livery stable and I got the pony, cow and calf together. They showed me the way out of town and I wns soon on my way to Weston. It was early Fall and very hot. Ever so often the darn calf would lie down to rest. Finally we landed in Weston late that evening - tied the cow and calf to a fence and started down town to find my Dad. I hadn't ridden about long when I located Dad's business. He was surprised - didn't expect to see me until the next day..

We went out a little later, got the cow and calf and started for the house about half a mile away. Weston was a long narrow town. Were the folks surprised to see me! The kids all got up out of bed to talk to me about my trip.

Weston and community was one of the best wheat growing sections in the United States. The wheat ran from 35 to 70 bushels per acre. The farmers summer fallowed the land, occasionally put in a crop of spring barley.

After I had been there a while I soon learned the business. Could make milk shakes, sodas, and wait on customers as well as anyone. It was my job to set pins in the bowling alley when not busy, and I soon learned to be a good bowler. Dad had always given a prize to the party making the highest score. One month I got the prize, but most always Bob Wheeler took it. He was known as Slats - he was a very tall and slender fellow. He was equally as good at pool. One of the best in the state.

The only Normal School in Eastern Oregon was here in Weston. Our home joined the ball field so you see, we always saw a free game. In those days most all games were played on Sunday. Oh yes! I got into a fight after being there a few days - as you know, going into a new town that happens quite often.

Weston and community was rather a tough place - had Pilot Rock beat for that. But my Ma never complained, it was her move. There were 3 saloons, a red light district next to the cemetery, several grocery stores, several doctors, two hotels, two feed stables and many churches.

Dad ran the store several years and traded the business off on a lease to a Dutchman about 7 miles out on Dry Creek. The place consisted of 160 acres. Joe Clodius was a single man and did he like his beer - and many a big times he had. We moved there in the Fal1 oP 1904. 0f the 160 acres only about 110 were in cultivation and the remainder was in pasture. The pasture was on a south slope and generally rocky. It had lots of couse and wild taters - and say! but the milk did taste, when we ran the cows on the pasture.

Dad got hold of a span of Morgans weighing not over 1250 pounds. They were the toughest horses I ever saw. We also had an old mare that did most of the cultivating, with me behind the cultivator.

The ranches were like a shoestring ranch. Best farm land lay between two hills varying in width to 200 yards to a quarter of a mile between hills. But on top of the hills especially sloping to the north the land could not be beat for grain. There was about three-quarter acre of strawberries and a half acre of raspberries. This was our first experience with fruit, but we did well with the berries. Our neighbors up-creek helped pick, besides there were four of us to pick.

The farm was on Dry Creek, 3 miles up-creek from Blue Mountain Station (a railroad side-station), about 7 mils from Weston ana at the foot of so-called Basket Mountain. Most all the land along the creek bottom was in orchard and alfalfa. The orchard was most of all commercial type Winesap apples, yellow newtons, pippins, some beauties, Ben Davis and a few straggling other varieties. There were 43 large cherry trees, mostly Royal Anns. We sold most all the fruit to the Shield packing plant at Milton, a little town 7 miles away toward Walla Walla. I did quite a little peddling of fruit, potatoes and corn at Weston, Athena and Helix. These places were wheat farmers towns. The wheat far mers didn't even raise their own gardens. When harvest-time came they bought a good deal of produce.

We always had a hired man - most of the time a Mr. Ashworth, or Mr. Ellis, sometimes both. The first fall crop there were a few persimmon trees and I had heard about them, so Mr. Ashworth says, "Dwight, try one of tke nice persimmons." I did and the darned things were so bitter my lips just turned wrong-side-out, Gosh! But after they were frosted good, they were fine eating - something of a fig type.

The house was an old four room house and very dirty. Was something terrible, but my Mother was determined to do her part and soon had things looking different. Our landlord, Joe Clodius was a batchelor and lived there for 11 years, so, you see, that accounted for a dirty house. About 6 feet in front of the house a large apricot limb ran out. If a person didn't watch he was bumping his head. Of course after this happened several times we all knew where that limb was. It was too large to cut off and would spoil the shape of the tree.

Joe Clodius had a dog with no training which he left with us. Joe had named the dog Bismark since he was a good Dutchman. Anyway Bismark was a worthless cuss, same as his name-sake. He had the hahit of staying in the house at nights until bedtime - then out he went.

One winter night Dad called to Bismark to go out and the poor dog didn't want to go but finally got as far as the door. Dad started to help him with his foot, but Bismark was to quick. Dad's big toe came in contact with the door sill. Oh Boy! a sore toe it was, he complained with said toe for a long time. It seemed so funny that we all laughed - even Ma got a big bang from it. Ma says,"What did you kick the door for?" Dad said he "hadn't figured on missing." So quite frequently, if Ma wanted to chide Dad about something she would alwavs say, "Will, be sure you figure right," and it would always bring a smile from Dad.

Our first year there was a pretty hard year, lots of work, and we all were determined to make something and we did. Dad gave $350 a year rent besides buying horses, machinery and many hogs. We put out five acres each of potatoes, Mexican red beans, and field corn. I was only about 15 and a little dried up cuss. Took a man's place everywhere. I had done most all the cultivating. Amos and I did most all the p1anting of beans, corn and potatoes. The main weed we had to put up with was the tumble weed. Was an easy weed to destroy if it didn't get too big. Jim Ashworth, our hired man, got $1.50 per day, board and sleeping. When it came to hoeing, Amos, I and Mr. Ashworth sure did cover the ground, but Jim never tended any chores. We had quite a bunch of hogs. We ran them in the orchard and alfalfa besides feeding them schookum - sweepings from the flour mill at Athena.

You see, when crops began to come on Dad did most of the hau1ing, peddling, and taking orders for produce. Made a grand success of it. He fell in good with the foreman at the big flour mill at Athena and quite frequently would take him a few fryers. He, being a man with a large family, appreciated it and took to saving lots of hog feed from the mil1 such as screenings and sweepings. It only cost us $5 a ton. So we raised lots of hogs.

One day Dad drove up to the mill, called for the foreman, he got a big 1oad of schookum, as they called it, and Dad says, "Oh yes, I want a sack of rolled oats." So the foreman brought out a tiny sack of oats. Dad laughed and said no, he wanted a 100-pound sack. The fe1lows all laughed. He got his 100 pounds of rolled oats and the foreman says, "Sellers, if you can eat oatmeal like that you just bring me a couple of chickens and we will be even." Later on Dad was joshing him and says, "Shall I bring you some more chickens for oats?" So ever afterwards we got mush for chickens - and the Sellers kids sure got tired of mush.

Getting back to the hogs - we generally had from 25 to 50 head all the time. We had three large spotted sows, slim as a rail, long as a race track. They generally had from 12 to 17 pigs. We always took some away from their mother and raised them on a bottle. Ma was a dinger to raise pigs on a bottle, and she always sold them as good weaners.

One time she kept a nice sow pig from a brood and promptly named her "Sally." Sally was sure a nuisance in the yard or wherever Ma went - followed her about like a dog does his master. Ma would go out to gather vegetables from the garden - Sally always went alone. We had chickens of all sizes and there was lots of brush along the creek for them to hide their nests. Sally got to eating chickens - little ones, so Dad fixed a chicken-tight pen for Sally. We got her up to about 75 pounds. One Sunday evening as we fed her, Amos, Bernard, Dad and I were looking her over. All of a sudden a hen flew in and had not any more than landed on the floor of the pen when Sally grabbed her.

As it happened, there was a hammer hanging on the side of the shed. Dad grabbed it and threw it at Sally, hit her on the forehead. Down she came and I ran to the house for the butcher knife. Sally began to come to, but Dad stuck her. We heated some water in a boiler, soon had Sally hanging up. Ma never kept any more bottle-pigs.

Another time one of those big sows had pigs and she got mean. Would bite you if her pigs were molested. Anyway, I was feeding her at noon, got too near the fence, the darned old rip reached through the crack and bit me on the leg. Did I holler! Being noontime, Dad heard me and was soon there to see what's up. He fixed a trough to pour feed in and we soon fattened Mrs. Sow and sold her to the butcher.

Ma was a plain spoken woman - she generally said what was on her mind and let the chips fall where they may. Dad had asked Joe Clodius out from town to stay over Sunday and he came out Saturday night. He knew how religious my Ma was so he started to josh her. She politely put him in his place. Finally he says, Mrs. Sellers, you are alright, you eat when you are hungry - I'll drink beer when I am dry, so everything will be all right." Next day noon Ma had a whale of a pile of fried chicken. When we all sat down Ma says to Joe, "Joe, I am hungry and I'll bet you are also." He took a gander at the chicken and says, "Mrs. Sellers, just watch me." We all had a grand time at dinner. Joe complimented Dad on his work and his family, and how everyone enjoyed working. When Ma and Faye, my sis, gathered up the dishes there was a $5 gold piece under Joe's plate. He was a fine fellow at heart.

This was a fine community and the families around included: O'Haras, Winns, Tuckers, McBrides and Sams - all large farmers and well-to-do. They had Sunday school every Sunday and every-other-Sunday, preaching. Always a good attendance. Mr. Henry Winn, a single man and a good farmer tried for two years to attract my Sis's attention. He was twice as old as she and she didn't hanker any for him. It nearly broke Henry's heart for he just worshipped that girl.

The folks never said much only that he was a nice fellow and would make someone a good man. Faye never changed her mind, but I think she regretted it later on.

We had about ten acres of awfully steep farm land - too steep to bind and haul crops from it with a wagon. One fall, Dad put this in hay. We got a terribly big crop from it. Dad fixed up a sled-like affair, 12x16 with 3 thorn (?) about 4 or 5 feet long with lx6 boards dragging. It was very light. We would go to the top of the hill, load going ,downhill, putting on about 2 tons - go on down about 3 hundred yards, make a quick turn next to a bluff ahout 30 feet down. Most of the hay would slide off. The rest we rolled over the cliff until we got it all hauled. Then in about 30 days we baled it. And say! did we have a time forking it out. A little while before, Dad traded a cow and yearling heifer for a half circle foot-feed baler. It sure was some outfit - and dangerous! Many a time Dad got the heel of his shoe taken off.

The next year Dad put this field into corn and got an awfully big crop. We cut and shocked it and what a grand sight it was! We had about 15 to 18 head of cattle that wintered on this corn fodder. Gave the ears to the hogs.

As it happened, one of our neighbors up-creek about a mile had a bunch of hogs running in an old orchard and along an old creek-bed. These hogs belonged to Jim McClain. Jim was a single man and a happy-go-lucky farmer. Ahout this time he had turned the hogs loose to forage over his place. He had about 500 acres all pasture except about 30 acres. These blooming hogs had located our corn patch, but we couldn't see them. One evening I took the horse and sled up to haul a load for stock. We always scattered it in the pasture. This time I found hogs in many shocks. Bismark, the dog, was along, and I tied the horse up and dogged the hogs most of the way home.

I fed the stock and told Dad all about matters. He went up to see Jim. Jim said he would try to keep them home. Next day in the afternoon the hogs were back after more good corn. I asked Dad if I could take the shotgun up. He said yes - to give it to 'em! The gun was a twelve gauge and believe me, there was a lot of squealing going on.

Next morning Jim McClain came by with his team going to town. Dad stopped him and told him to keep his hogs penned up or he would get more of them shot up. Jim Says, "Sellers, how much do I owe you for damages?" Dad said, "Nothing, only keep your hogs at home or you will have hogs or grease all over the hillsides." Jim figured that Dad meant just what he said. From then on, no more hog trouble. We lived there six years.

Jim's folks lived in Athena on a large wheat ranch. Jim raised cattle and horses - wintered them on stubble fields and the rest of the year on his pasture ranch. One day a poor and large family was going through working their way. They worked for Mrs. McClain at Athena a spell, then she sent them out to Jim's. He furnished them an old house to live in, some meat and a garden patch and fruit from the orchard.

This deal was a bonanza to the poor devils. They were in heaven. The kids ranged from 21 to 3 years of age, dirty, tough as boiled owls and all seemed healthy. They also worked about a bit, picking fruit and haying. Did pretty well for themselves.

I remember one of the boys about Faye's age would come down the road and make it a point to stop and talk each time. He was a sociable cuss. Had an Arkie drawl. Faye thought he was quite interesting and in a few days he hit Dad up for a joh. Dad was telling Ma about it and Ma says, "Will Sellers, don't you dare, we haven't given them any work in the berries and apples for a good reason." The boy didn't get the job. Ma was afraid she might get the Arkies mixed up with the Sellers.

Soon everything changed and Faye got to liking a fine young fellow. His folks were wheat ranchers but finally the wooing was wrecked. 0f all the wooers, Henry Winn capped them all and lost out. Anyway Henry had a sister, Bessie Winn, a little older than I. I tried to interest her but to no headway. She was reverse, same as Faye was to Henry.

Up-creek, a little over a mile, lived a small rancher named March. They were French Canadians. Mrs.March and her daughter were working fools but the old man wasn't worth blowing to hell. The older boy was very industrious and made the living for them all. Mrs. March was better than a newspaper or telephone line. Many people thought the Marches had nigger blood in them - they were rather dark - some freckles and kinky hair - that is the women folks did.

My folks had us built up not to be too friendly with the Marches, they too figured there was some nigger there. Anyway Florence, the March girl, was a working fool, little and wiry. She helped a good deal with the berries. We had different kinds of berries and in the fall Dad would hire apple pickers and have the apples picked in the orchard. Mrs. March would help Ma with dinner - that way Faye would help with the fruit .

After a couple of years of this, Florence began to get my eye and we would get around and have many chats. We became more friendly as time went along. Florence was always about when I had a different job and would wave me goodbye. The folks held me down telling of niggers.

We alwavs had our meals outside under the large apricot tree until the cold weather drove us inside. The house was small and we nearly always had company. Not manv days were missed there. You see, Dad was on the road three days a week selling farm produce during the summer and early fall. The hired man and Amos and I did most all the general farm work. The produce was sold at Weston, Athena, and Helix. You see, the larger farmers lived most of their time in some of these towns and generally had a hired man on the ranch to look after the stock. At that time each farmer had from 500 to 2,000 acres of wheat land so they owned lots of horses and mules to pull the combines. Many of them raised their own mules. Each combine took from 25 to 32 head to pull it.

One day at dinner time Dad says,"Dwight, you can take the hacktomorrow and go over to Helix with a load of potatoes,corn and tomatoes." Was I tickled ? Man oh man! Next morning the chores were done and I was waiting for breakfast. The folks were amused at my attitude. I got started and had a grand day. You see, the roung-trip was 35 miles and hot as hell. I sold my load, did a little peddling, started for home and hot it sure was. A thunder storm came up - one of the worst I ever saw. I arrived at Athena about 11 o'clock that night, put the horses in a stable and I went to a hotel, got a bed, after calling up home and telling them my intentions.

I landed in bed and tried to get some sleep. Would sorter wake up a-clawing and scratching and twitching. Finally I got up, lit the lamp - and there were billions of little red creatures trailing my way, all trying to get there firstest to get something to eat before it was all gone. You know these little buggers were so-called bedbugs and I don't think they had had anything to eat for months, for they were in a hurry.

Well anyway, I was a poor scrawny little cuss. If I had a been drunk they wonld of eaten me up by morning. I woke up the manager and asked him to come up to my room. He sorter had an idea what was up. Instead of a white sheet it was red and white, checkered with bedbug juice. He sorter grinned and says, "Come with me Sonny." I got a good bed and just died with sleep.

Oh yes! While I was peddling I missed Florence. The old saying is absence makes the heart grow fonder - and it did.

One fall Dad bought me a saddle horse, new saddle, and a pair of bearhide chaps and says, "Dwight, we want you to ride to school at Weston" That was six miles. This little brown horse was tough as a boiled owl and built like a kangaroo. Dad bought him of a small farmer down-creek at Blue Mountain Station. Name was MacIntosh and cost Dad $35.00. He was three years old the year we bought him. I named him Bub. He knew just where to gallop and where to walk - as it happened he only walked uphill. I would rap the reins around the saddle horn and never touch them until Bub turned in the livery stable. Many times coming home it was so foogy (dry fog) that you could see a line where a person rode through.

The next fall the French Government was in Walla Walla, Washington, buying horses for their army. So I rode Bub into Walla Walla one morning - it was only 18 miles. The horse buyer was at the livery looking over horses. He looked at Bub and says, "Sonny, pull the saddle off." I did and he looked Bub over and says, "Sonny, gallop him down the street." I did, then he says, "How much do you want?" I says, "$100." The man whistled and says,"That's a lot of money." I says, "He is a good horse." He thought that was too much, so I put Bub back in the stall. They went on looking at the other horses, bought many and fina11y came back and says, "Sonny, we will give you $85." I says, "You can have him."

So I carried my riding gear several blocks to an interurban train running between Wal1a Walla and Milton. Got back to Milton, stored my riding gear with a grocerman and started to walk home the seven miles. Caught up with a wood hauler going back empty - got a chance to ride within a quarter mile from home. Got home in time for supper. The folks certainly were surprised to see me walking in without a horse. Dad said he thought the trip wou1d do me good anyway. As it happened Dad traded one of his horses off the same day for a 6-year-old mare. He got a big laugh from it. Whenever I did anything extra well my Ma always put her hand on my head with a little squeeze. That was good - that head-squeeze was we11 understood by me.

In the meantime Florence would wave to me if she cou1d not talk to me. (Strange, isn't it?) Later on I bought a sorrel mare from M. E. Sturdivant at Ukiah where we lived before. She wou1d probably weigh 1,150 and an ornery critter. Would kick in the harness occasionally and raise Billy "h".

One fall two neighbors rented a house and we kids went to school at Weston. I was in the ninth grade. There was a Wells girl, Florence March (remember?) and Faye, my sister, and I. We all lived in a three roomed house and what a time we did have. Expenses were shared equally. Early in the spring Dad says one day, "Dwight, I am going to take you out of school, you are having too much fun - not learning enough." It was fine with me. I wanted to get some dirt under my fingernails again. My schooling stopped there.

You see, while we were at school our folks would take turns coming after us Friday night, and returning Sunday nights.

We always plowed our steep hill with a hillside P1ow. Would start at the bottom, go along, trip the lever, the mo1dboard would turn over and catch. This way every other furrow the horses would alternate.

Another time I was plowing on top of this same hill and I noticed that at about a certain place the horses would turn their heads and look. Being prettv foggy I could see nothing so finally investigated. There was a coyote sitting there watching me. I watched him a bit then ran him off.

Again, one spring, Dad and I and Amos were planting potatoes using a hillside plow. All of a sudden I spied a male grouse strutting around on the hillside. He would dance, spread his tail-feathers like a peacock, ruffle up his neck feathers, and strut along the hill. Well, I took off for home for the shotgun. I made a quick trip. Dad says, "Now, when he struts, you run up as quiet as possible but be sure and stop before he does and stand perfectly still when he stops." I got within good range and let go. We had grouse for supper. Again my Ma put her hand on my head. Oh, what a good feeling! Later that fall I got many young grouse.

Each fall there were so many windfall apples and wormy apples. More than the horses could handle. So we gathered them up. We had our own cider mill and made about 500 gallons of cider each year. We would grind them up, put in ten gallons of water to 40 gallons of cider, put in a little brown paper - some mother from older cider and in a year's time this stuff would be so darned strong you could hardly taste it. We generally had from one to two years aged vinegar on hand at all times .

One day Dad says, "Dwight, how would you like to go to Weston and Athena with a couple of barrels of vinegar and sell it to hotels and restaurants?" I agreed. Next day I took off for Athena, 10 miles away, with the vinegar. Every place I tried I sold some vinegar. Most of the prospectives would smile it and choke . It certainly was strong stuff. At the main hotel in Athena I asked the manager about it. He says, "Go see Sam the Chink." I goes back to see Sam and he says, "It he good vinegar?" I says, "You bet! the strongest you ever tasted." Sam says,"All light you drive round behind - me see." So I did just that.

Sam climbed up on the hack, looks at it and I poured out a sample and says, "Look out, it's strong stuff." Sam says, "Me see." So he tipped up the tin cut and takes a swig. It darned near floored him. He choked, coughed, cut capers around there like a chicken with his head off. When he got back to normal he says, "Heap strong, no good, me fix 'em." Sam ordered 20 gallons. He put it in another barrel. Sam began to pour water in and says to me, "See - Me fix 'em. You laugh, me choke," then he laughed too.

This same Chinaman bought a restaurant, built it up into a big trade and sold out. He was considered a very wealthy man. He soon married a white woman of quite a pile of respect. He bought a very light wagon and the nicest horse money could buy and started out to see the United States this way. You see, he was respected very highly in that community. He had been here many years. When he and his lady left they were wished many happy days ahead by a nice crowd.

The people living on upper Dry Creek were on the watch when a big thunder storm came up because the creek was between two steep hills and believe me, many water spout floods came down while we lived there. One hot summer day, gosh ! but it did rain and thunder. We all hit for the house. The house was only five or six feet above the creek bank and not more than 30 feet from the creek. The distance between hills there wasn't over 300 feet. Well, anyway, Dad was listening and watching up-creek in case a flood came down. The sky was pretty black over the mountains up-creek-way. It stopped raining and in about 45 minutes here comes a rush of water. The creek was nearly bank full. Directly it went over the banks, then higher and higher until our buggy and wagon sheds were moving, then the hen house, then the water was almost around the houses but the water got no higher.

By this time it got near chore-time and most of the blooming hogs were anxious to come across from where they were sleeping. Feeding was all done on the opposite side of the creek. They had nearly all gone across beforehand to feed on the alfalfa. Well, the darned fools ran up and down the creek and we watched them. Every now and then several would jump in and they would bob up and down in the swift water like a stick. Most all light-weight hogs washed ashore on the right side. Many were landed on the same side they started from and knew enough not to try again. We lost eight heavy hogs by drowning. They just sank and we never did find them. Let me tell you, it was awful to see those hogs plunge into that raging stream.

After a couple of hours the creek was almost normal. We had a lot of hog fences to fix up. Many of our neighbors had the same experience only not so bad. The farther down creek, the wider the ground was between hills.

About the second or third year there the orchards became infested with San O Za scale pretty badly. The county fruit inspector was looking about and told Dad he would have to spray or cut his fruit trees down. Of course we didn't want to do that so Dad rigged up a 50-gallon barrel on a sled, hooked the old mare, Minnie, to it and went to work spraving. I did nearly all the pumping. Holy Gosh! but I sure got tired of it. On Saturdays, Amos, my next brother, would help. Anyway, the brown mare was a copper-colored horse. Oh Yes! Florence kept waving to me.

One Saturday during a winter, everything was frozen up. Dad had sharpened the saw and ax and told Amos and me to take the tools, go out along the creek and work up some wood. The cottonwood trees ranged from 10 to 18 inches in diameter. Amos and I cut down several trees. Being frozen, they cut like cheese. After cutting the first block I says to Amos, "I'll bet you can't cut that block open with one lick." I knew he could. Amos says, "Bet I can." So he stood Mr. Block of Wood up, puts out his foot, takes a long hard swing. The ax went through the block and through his shoe. Of course, there was soon a bloody mess. We went to the house about 200 ,yards off, took off his shoe and I'll be darned if it didn't split the flesh right next to the bone on his middle toe. Amos never whimpered. Our Mother took the flesh which had split off and bound it back on the toe. It grew back in place fine. Amos had a big callous mark there to this day (about 1960). I sure did laugh when he split the block, much to his surprise. Wasn't that awful of me ? You know, some people are that way.

We haa our young stock on pasture in early spring. When things began to dry up we were changing them across the creek into another pasture. There was about a dozen of them. One heifer kept running back across the creek. This time she started back again and Dad started to head her off, picking up a rock along the creek bed, about the size of a goose egg. He threw it, hitting the heifer a glancing blow across the forehead.

Down she went in the middle of the creek in about two feet of water. Dad ran and lifted up her head. I made a beeline for the house about a block away. It was about 8 o'clock in the morning and Ma was in the kitchen. I says, "give me the butcher knife." I grabbed it and ran back, with Ma right behind me to see what was up. When we got back the heifer was standing up. She was only stunned and didn't give any more trouble. Ma says, "You always think of something don't you Dwight" and put her hand on my head. Oh ! what a wonderful pat my Ma had.

Dad had often spoken of going back to the Willamette Valley to farm and to Eugene to get a look-see of things about his old home place. But Ma nixed that in the bud. She says, "No Sir, Bill Sellers, I am not going near your folks. You would work the whole family to death to show them you could succeed . That 's the way your father did to your mother. " So that was given up for good.

Remember Florence ? Well she continued to wave at me and my Ma became more irritated. 'Twas a funny thing - Florence was a bugger to talk, and as it happened, everytime she got stung with a bee her tongue would swell quite large for about 24 hours. Guess that was the way nature had of giving her a rest .

While on the subject of bees - when we left Dry Creek I had about 10 hives of bees. They were in drygoods boxes and I didn't know what to do with them, so I sold them to Andy Burnett for $5.00. He didn't have the money so I told him to send it later whenever he got it. Well we moved and I had forgotten about it. One day eleven years later I got a letter in the mail with a $5.00 check in it with a letter saying, "Dear Dwight, I woke up in my sleep last night and it occurred to me that I owed you $5.00, so enclosed you will find check for the same." Andy was living in Portland. Wouldn't that jar you ?

After we had lived in the Weston-Dry Creek area six years, one morning my Ma says, "Will, don't you think we should look for a new location?" We had done pretty well here and we kids were growing up fast. She said, "Dwight might take a notion to get mixed up with the Marches." Remember - they were supposed to have nigger blood in their veins because they were darker than the rest of us. And Florence continued to wave at me. Oh Boy! Remember her? My folks always thought we were above the creek hillbillies. Faye was coming along and quite attractive to some of the creekbillies.

Shortly after Ma had suggested to Dad about leaving Dry Creek Dad began to figure on many localities. About that time Hermiston was a new community. The U. S. Government had put in a big dam across a draw which formed the Cold Springs Reservoir, to store water for irrigation. This big reservoir when about full covered 1,800 acres. People intended to make this desert bloom like a rose - and it did 25 years later.

Well, real estate was booming there and changing by man and nature both. It was very sandy with sagebrush from two to eight feet high and greasewood the largest vou ever saw.

Anyway, Dad started for Hermiston to investigate. After he left Ma says, "Your Dad will buy at Hermiston, you just wait and see." She didn't seem to care very much - she wanted to get away from the Dry Creek billies.

So after four or five days here comes Dad - or rather he called from town on the telephone and said he would start out on foot and for someone to meet him. The telephone system had been installed a couple of years before and came into our house along the top wire of a barbed wire fence. It was a hand-cranked affair and was sorter noisy but we usually could understand. Our ring was a long and two shorts. I went to meet Dad and when we got home Dad told us about his whole experience and had bought 40 acres of that darned desert land, paying $100 per acre. Seemed glad to get it and pictured it to us as the coming land of milk and honey.

He began to sell stuff readily. He had told Joe Clodius, our landlord, so Joe got another renter. He was a man with a large family and he bought the bulk of our stuff, as he had little of his own. Most of the hogs we sold at Pendleton, 22 miles away, and many farmers bought several each. Cattle were sold to different ones. The new renter bought the hay-farming equipment and a few hogs and cows. Wasn't long before the Sellers were ready to vamoose.

One evening we were all sitting in the house and rap, rap went the door. I was near so I opened it and lo and behold all the creek people were there for a surprise event. We all had a grand time and cake and cider was served freely. Long about time to break up a Miss Grey, a teacher, and Rose Phillips got into a fight. It seems they both wanted a Mr. McClain to take them home. They did some awful rag-chewing but Jim Mac took the school mom home.