CHAPTER 2
At Brewster
THE next four years of my life were spent in college, where I did my best to break down the old tradition of masculine superiority in scientific subjects. I mastered the subjects my father had prescribed for me and made an enviable record for myself as a student. The moon still remained the object of my devotions! the big ‘telescope in the university observatory opened up many of her mysteries to me. But, in spite of my knowledge that the moon was a dead world, floating in a perfect vacuum, when I saw her I felt a renewal of my ambition to reach her and carve my name on one of her highest cliffs. For a reason that I could not understand, my father never visited me while I was at college. His letters became fewer, and each read almost like the one preceding it. But always he impressed upon me the importance of completing my education before joining him in Arizona. He was confident, however, that his telescope would be a success. Despite my pleadings he never visited me. Sometimes, it was his health that would not permit such a long journey; again, some important thing would come up unexpectedly and cause him to postpone his visit. And during my last year, when his letters almost ceased entirely, I became alarmed. I could scarcely wait until commencement was over to go to him. The last few months seemed like an eternity, but as soon as commencement was over I packed my belongings and bought a ticket for Brewster, Arizona. The town of Brewster had grown up around a small siding, built for my father, when his supplies were first shipped to that point, years ago. Now, however, it is a beautiful mountain resort, whose chief attractions are the extremely dry climate, incomparable scenery and a modern hotel, which is an oasis to the hundreds of automobile tourists who daily pass the point on the new state highway. Father did not meet me at the train as I expected; so I went to the hotel to rest, before trying to find him. The proprietor, who was one of the oldest inhabitants of the town, told rue about him.
“Yes, I used to know William Brewster,” he said to my question: “Years ago he built a fine home about ten miles up in the mountains. You can see it from the window—wait, I’ll show it to you.’‘
With his binoculars, I could see the house. It was a large brick building with a red tile roof, looking like the summer place of a millionaire.
“I’d enjoy going up there,” I remarked: “Where can I find someone to take me!”
“There are several young men who would be glad to do it; but my advice is to stay away from that place.” “Why?”
“Mr. Brewster is an eccentric old hermit, who long ago advised me to keep my tourists off his property. He owns several square miles of barren mountain land and threatens to shoot all trespassers. He has never shot anybody that I know of, but everyone lets him alone.”
It was evident that my informer did not know my identity, so I decided to draw him out and see how much he could tell me.
“What sort of a man is this Mr. Brewster? Does he live up there alone? My curiosity is aroused. I’d like to meet him.”
The innkeeper shook his head.
“When I first came here, there was a bunch of foreigners up there; twenty-five or thirty families. But, one by one, they all left for the old country. Brewster owned the place, so he rented it to a club of some kind in Chicago. For several years about one hundred fine American people made this place their headquarters. They always seemed to be busy and there were a lot of motors and machinery taken up there to be installed for some purpose.
“But, about three or four years ago, they all left for Chicago, leaving the old man alone. No one knows what he does now, but he has the name of being as crazy as a bedbug. He comes down here once a month to buy supplies and is always telling people how dumb they are.
“One day he talked about seeing people on the moon and Mars with a big telescope he made. When they heard of it over in Flagstaff, two young men from the Lowell Observatory came down to investigate. As usual, he refused to admit them, but they saw enough to realize that he had nothing that even looked like a telescope. From then on the boys here in town have poked fun at him. But he tells them they are as dumb as horned toads and keeps talking about a daughter who is coming from the East to show them that he is not as crazy as they think. But this daughter has never shown up and the boys think he is crazier than ever.”
“Would it surprise you to learn that I am his daughter?”
My question was answered by the amazement that marked his face. He offered an apology for the unkind remarks he had made. But I felt that he had told me the truth, and accepted his offer to take me up to the Brewster house the next morning.
The Recluse
THE distance up the mountain was only ten miles in a straight line, but the crooked road up the steep mountainside was fully thirty miles long, and so steep that it was necessary to drive in low gear most of the way. Even then we had to stop often to refill the radiator and let the engine cool. My driver, knowing that my feelings were hurt by what he had said of my father’s reputation, attempted to take my mind from my troubles by discussing other things. But, since he refused to tell me any more, there was nothing to be discussed. However, he did promise to do anything that would be of assistance to me.
At last we arrived at our destination and the driver blew his horn. We soon saw an old man, whom I recognised as my father, coming down the path, a gun in each hand.
“What do you mean by making all that noise? What do you want here?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Brewster, but here is a young lady who is anxious to meet you.”
“We’re not admitting young ladies or anyone else today. You are just wanting to bring a woman up here to laugh at me. Turn around and leave or I will fill you full of lead!”
“Wait!” I cried. “Father, don’t you recognize me? I am your Dorothy.”
For a moment he looked at me. Slowly he lowered his guns, and tears came to his eyes as he spoke:
“Dorothy, I thought I told you to finish school before coming out here.”
“But father, I graduated a week ago; are you not glad to see me?”
He looked helplessly from the driver to me.
“Yes. Come in.”
I slipped a roll of bills into the driver’s hand and told him to return with a doctor as soon as possible. I then passed through the gate, which was locked behind me.
In the house everything was dirt and confusion. Paper, tin cans, empty boxes and excelsior littered the floor. Father did not seem to be himself at all; he had developed a contempt for humanity that was nothing short of a bitter hatred. He talked about those illiterate tourists and natives down at Brewster, whose intelligence in his estimation was less than that of the ants which they crushed under their clumsy feet. He raved about those would-be astronomers and scientists back East, declaring that they were just as primitive as their ape-like ancestors. They imagined the universe had its beginning and its ending in their teachings, and everything else was absurd and impossible. He declared that any real man with determination, grit and capital could disprove any of their doctrines, just as easily as he had done so with his new telescope.
I hope the reader will pardon me for not detailing all his ravings. He was my father and I loved him; so I will spare myself the painful task of recording the things I find so hard to forget.
Dr. Zeilars called the next day and gave him a very thorough examination. Later he had called me aside and asked a number of questions about his past, and finally gave his diagnosis:
“Your father has worked his mind to death. He has spent a lifetime working on a problem too great for one man; he has never taken any time for rest or recreation and his mind is exhausted. The fact that he has been alone for a number of years is enough to drive many a younger man insane. I have seen sheep herders, with no companion but a dog and thousands of sheep, lose their sanity, temporarily at least, in a much shorter period. Your father’s case is similar; but, his mind being stronger, his insanity has been postponed. But he is human and the inevitable can not be postponed much longer.
“His only cure is companionship. He has been looking forward to your coming for years, and your presence here is better than any medicine I can prescribe. Stay with him all the time; talk to him and agree with him in everything as long as he does not want to do anything unreasonable. I am leaving some medicine for him; but I shall call every day and see how this treatment is agreeing with him.”
I could see the wisdom of this psychological treatment and the doctor’s instructions were carried out to the letter. Father’s condition began to improve immediately. During the long hours we spent together, he told me, little by little, of the privation, suffering and loneliness he had endured. He had at first pretended insanity to the people of Brewster for the purpose of checking their curiosity. He was afraid someone would learn his secret, so he prepared to play the crazy old hermit if any scientific men came to investigate. He had purposely boasted of seeing men on the moon and Mars and made his assertions so absurd that they would be considered the ravings of a madman if his secret were suspected.
The telescope had been finished before I entered college, but he did not dare to let me know it for fear I would not finish my education. During the years after its completion, he had looked forward to the day when I could join him and, together, we could explore the infinite and fathom its hidden secrets. He had made a study of the heavens by himself and learned things of which no astronomer had seen or even science fiction writer had ever dared to dream. His superior knowledge caused him to look with contempt upon the findings of other observers and he began to consider himself almost an equal of his Creator.
But he had forgotten that he was only a mortal, with human limitations. The knowledge and conceit which he had acquired was more than his overtaxed mind could carry. Realizing this he now looked forward to the day when Dr. Zeilars would pronounce him cured and permit him to show me his observatory. It is unnecessary to say that this was my greatest desire also.