Old Missoula

Adventurous Trail; Charming Mr. Horn

“Dot” Benson, “Bob” Wilson to Start Back Home When Money Comes.

A telegram yesterday morning from “our families” in Denver ended the peregrinations of Dorothy Benson and Roberta Wilson, held for the past two days in the county jail for reasons of great uncertainty. But somehow, after seeing the travelers at first hand, one has a sense that the effect of the telegram will not be permanent. For “Dot” and “Bob” – they call each other that with a masculine pride – have a taste for the road and the wide open spaces that in summers past has carried them “lots farther from Denver than Missoula is.”

And like all travelers, they have the instinct for story telling. They have told one story to Mrs. Jane Bailey, several to Undersheriff Whitaker, one to Deputy Maloney, a summary one to a reporter. But it is perfectly possible to be absorbed in any one of them, to believe it not at all, and to enjoy it immensely. All that is very certain is that they were brought to Missoula on Tuesday night from Milltown, where they were found fast asleep in a Ford sedan – a stolen car; but it was not stolen by them, because –

Here the story starts;

They started out from Denver a week ago Sunday. “Walking?” you ask. “Oh, no, in a car with a thin lady who was a prohibition agent.” The thin lady who was a prohibition agent took them to Salt Lake city (sic) in two and one-half days in her car, even took them to Pocatello, and then left abruptly “for the east.” “But that didn’t make any difference to us,” says Dorothy, red haired and confident. “We can take care of ourselves, and besides we had $8 when we started. Why, once when – -” She is all for telling a story of New Mexico, but she finally gets around to Yellowstone park.

“We went in West Yellowstone, hiked and got rides in the park for three days, slept in blankets on the ground and got to Gardiner. Then we got to Livingston,” she continues in the manner of one whose real narrative is just about to start.

Livingston is the red letter place on the calendar for the men of the sheriff’s office had been looking for a certain Ford sedan that was stolen there.

“- – And we were just leaving Livingston when up comes a car with the best looking man in it. ‘Want a ride to Bozeman?’ he asks. He looked nice, and anyway it was going to rain, so we got in.”

Enter, now, Mr. Paul Horn, formerly of Livingston and now – a lot of people would like to know where he is. Mr. Horn was simply charming, and a “perfect gentleman,” from which you are to judge that nothing “out of the way” was even remotely possible. Mr. Horn, with his broad Irish wit, regaled the girls with stories; he was tall, dark, had curly hair, and was over 30, the girls agree. Arriving at Bozeman, they all agreed that they might as well stay together until Butte. At Butte Mr. Horn, in a gentlemanly fashion, borrowed a dollar from Roberta for gasoline; shortly afterward, borrowed another – of course he would pay it back. Any gentleman would, and Mr. Horn was still charming. “All the time we were writing home to show how we were getting along toward Seattle,” explains Dot; “Bob has a brother there.”

On Monday afternoon they arrived in Milltown. Oddly enough, Mr. Horn had not yet received a wire from “his bank.” Could he borrow another dollar from them? Certainly. No suspicion yet. Off went Mr. Horn to Missoula to send a telegram that would “make that bank topple over.” And all afternoon the girls sat int the car and played their “ukes” and sang, the while enjoying a sensation as large as can be created in Milltown. Then, although their money was going down, they ate hot dogs and drank pop; and later, slept. At 1 o’clock they were awakened roughly by the town marshall (Dot acts this out with a fine sleepiness). Where had they picked up the car? Where had they picked up the guy that was in it? They hadn’t picked up a guy, a guy had picked them up. Unavailing argument. And so they remained in the county jail until a wire from Livingston identified Horn as the thief of the car.

But Mr. Horn, the charming, the romantic Mr. Horn, is gone. He was a fleeting, if also an irritating chapter in the lives of the girls, who will return home shortly when money arrives for their transportation.

“What are we going to do? Why, Bob’s going to study law. And me, I’m going into the movies. Got a jop (sic), if I want it, in the same company Patsy Ruth Miller’s in.”

The above article appeared in The Daily Missoulian on July 23, 1926

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