Westy Martin on the Santa Fe Trail

Westy felt that he was in hard luck! In fact, he felt that Fate had played the meanest kind of a trick on him, just when he needed all his vision to live up to the plaudits of the multitude.
The truth of the matter was, some stray particles of dust had been blowing around and at a most inopportune moment sought seclusion in his eye, much to the annoyance of our hero.
Now, Westy Martin had every qualification needed to deserve the title of hero. At least every scout in Bridgeboro was unanimous in this instance, so, what right has a tenderfoot questioning the wisdom of the scout’s decision!
Indeed, if one were to betray any tendency toward incredulity, by so much as a slightly uplifted brow, they would descend en masse upon the unbeliever and shout with loud derision. In short, you would be the object of their amazement that your stupidity could be carried to the point of not knowing who Westy Martin was.
They would then go on to tell you in stentorian voices (Pee-wee’s being the nearest and loudest, thus forcing you to move a little out of its range) that Westy Martin was now about to embark upon the motion picture industry through the intervention of Mr. Madison C. Wilde, Field Manager of Educational Films.