It was a hot summer day when I saw on the lawn what appeared to be a big bear, because the squat, bulky figure was enclosed in fur. Answering the door bell I looked into twinkling eyes and an ingratiating smile. "They told me in Ballarat that Shorty Harris was here." I invited him in.
"I'll just shed this coat," he said, stripping off the bearskin garment. "... sorta heavy for a man going on 80." He laid it aside. "It's double lined. Fur inside and out. You see, I sleep in it. Crossed three mountain ranges in that coat before I got here. May as well take this other one off too." He removed another heavy overcoat, revealing a cord around his waist. "Keep this one tied close. Less bulky...."
Under a shorter coat was a heavy woolen shirt and his overalls concealed two pairs of pants. He went on: "I was with Shorty at Leadville. My name's Pete Harmon. We ought to be rich--both of us. Why, I sold a hole for $2500 in 1878. Thought I was smart. They've got over $100,000,000 outa that hole. I was at Bridgeport when I heard Shorty was sick, so I says, 'I'll just step down to Ballarat and see him.' (The 'step' was 298 miles.) When I got there Bob Warnack tells me he's in Los Angeles. When I get there they tell me he's with you. So I just stepped out here."
He had "stepped" 481 miles to see his friend.
I ushered him in and left them alone. After an hour I noticed Pete outside, smoking. I went out and urged him to return and smoke inside, but he refused. "It's not manners," he insisted.
Later I happened to look out the window and saw him empty the contents of a small canvas sack into his hand. There were a few dimes and nickels and two bills. He unfolded the currency. One was a twenty. The other, a one. He put the coins in the sack and came inside. A few moments later, from an adjacent room I heard his soft, lowered voice: "Shorty, I'm eatin' reg'lar now and got a little besides. I reckon you're kinda shy. You take this."
"No--no, Pete. I'm getting along fine...."
I fancy there was a scurry among the angels to make that credit for Pete Harmon.
Late in the afternoon Pete donned his coats. "I'd better be going. I've got a lotta things on hand. A claim in the Argus. When the money comes in, well--I always said I was going to build a scenic railroad right on the crest of Panamint Range. Best view of Death Valley. It'll pay. How far is it to San Diego?"