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Model-Based Reinforcement Learning
 IEEE Press
445 Hoes Lane
Piscataway, NJ 08854

IEEE Press Editorial Board

Sarah Spurgeon, Editor in Chief

Jón Atli Benediktsson Andreas Molisch Diomidis Spinellis

Anjan Bose Saeid Nahavandi Ahmet Murat Tekalp
Adam Drobot Jeffrey Reed
Peter (Yong) Lian Thomas Robertazzi
Model-Based Reinforcement Learning

From Data to Continuous Actions with a Python-based

Toolbox

Milad Farsi and Jun Liu

University of Waterloo, Ontario, Canada

IEEE Press Series on Control Systems Theory and Applications

Maria Domenica Di Benedetto, Series Editor
Copyright © 2023 by The Institute of Electrical and Electronics Engineers, Inc.
All rights reserved.

Published by John Wiley & Sons, Inc., Hoboken, New Jersey.

Published simultaneously in Canada.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any
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Cover Images: © Pobytov/Getty Images; Login/Shutterstock; Sazhnieva Oksana/Shutterstock

Set in 9.5/12.5pt STIXTwoText by Straive, Chennai, India

 v

Contents

About the Authors xi

Preface xiii
Acronyms xv
Introduction xvii

1 Nonlinear Systems Analysis 1

1.1 Notation 1
1.2 Nonlinear Dynamical Systems 2
1.2.1 Remarks on Existence, Uniqueness, and Continuation of Solutions 2
1.3 Lyapunov Analysis of Stability 3
1.4 Stability Analysis of Discrete Time Dynamical Systems 7
1.5 Summary 10
Bibliography 10

2 Optimal Control 11
2.1 Problem Formulation 11
2.2 Dynamic Programming 12
2.2.1 Principle of Optimality 12
2.2.2 Hamilton–Jacobi–Bellman Equation 14
2.2.3 A Sufficient Condition for Optimality 15
2.2.4 Infinite-Horizon Problems 16
2.3 Linear Quadratic Regulator 18
2.3.1 Differential Riccati Equation 18
2.3.2 Algebraic Riccati Equation 23
2.3.3 Convergence of Solutions to the Differential Riccati Equation 26
2.3.4 Forward Propagation of the Differential Riccati Equation for Linear
Quadratic Regulator 28
2.4 Summary 30
Bibliography 30
vi Contents

3 Reinforcement Learning 33
3.1 Control-Affine Systems with Quadratic Costs 33
3.2 Exact Policy Iteration 35
3.2.1 Linear Quadratic Regulator 39
3.3 Policy Iteration with Unknown Dynamics and Function
Approximations 41
3.3.1 Linear Quadratic Regulator with Unknown Dynamics 46
3.4 Summary 47
Bibliography 48

4 Learning of Dynamic Models 51

4.1 Introduction 51
4.1.1 Autonomous Systems 51
4.1.2 Control Systems 51
4.2 Model Selection 52
4.2.1 Gray-Box vs. Black-Box 52
4.2.2 Parametric vs. Nonparametric 52
4.3 Parametric Model 54
4.3.1 Model in Terms of Bases 54
4.3.2 Data Collection 55
4.3.3 Learning of Control Systems 55
4.4 Parametric Learning Algorithms 56
4.4.1 Least Squares 56
4.4.2 Recursive Least Squares 57
4.4.3 Gradient Descent 59
4.4.4 Sparse Regression 60
4.5 Persistence of Excitation 60
4.6 Python Toolbox 61
4.6.1 Configurations 62
4.6.2 Model Update 62
4.6.3 Model Validation 63
4.7 Comparison Results 64
4.7.1 Convergence of Parameters 65
4.7.2 Error Analysis 67
4.7.3 Runtime Results 69
4.8 Summary 73
Bibliography 75

5 Structured Online Learning-Based Control of

Continuous-Time Nonlinear Systems 77
5.1 Introduction 77
5.2 A Structured Approximate Optimal Control Framework 77
 Contents vii

5.3 Local Stability and Optimality Analysis 81

5.3.1 Linear Quadratic Regulator 81
5.3.2 SOL Control 82
5.4 SOL Algorithm 83
5.4.1 ODE Solver and Control Update 84
5.4.2 Identified Model Update 85
5.4.3 Database Update 85
5.4.4 Limitations and Implementation Considerations 86
5.4.5 Asymptotic Convergence with Approximate Dynamics 87
5.5 Simulation Results 87
5.5.1 Systems Identifiable in Terms of a Given Set of Bases 88
5.5.2 Systems to Be Approximated by a Given Set of Bases 91
5.5.3 Comparison Results 98
5.6 Summary 99
Bibliography 99

6 A Structured Online Learning Approach to Nonlinear

Tracking with Unknown Dynamics 103
6.1 Introduction 103
6.2 A Structured Online Learning for Tracking Control 104
6.2.1 Stability and Optimality in the Linear Case 108
6.3 Learning-based Tracking Control Using SOL 111
6.4 Simulation Results 112
6.4.1 Tracking Control of the Pendulum 113
6.4.2 Synchronization of Chaotic Lorenz System 114
6.5 Summary 115
Bibliography 118

7 Piecewise Learning and Control with Stability

Guarantees 121
7.1 Introduction 121
7.2 Problem Formulation 122
7.3 The Piecewise Learning and Control Framework 122
7.3.1 System Identification 123
7.3.2 Database 124
7.3.3 Feedback Control 125
7.4 Analysis of Uncertainty Bounds 125
7.4.1 Quadratic Programs for Bounding Errors 126
7.5 Stability Verification for Piecewise-Affine Learning and Control 129
7.5.1 Piecewise Affine Models 129
7.5.2 MIQP-based Stability Verification of PWA Systems 130
viii Contents

7.5.3 Convergence of ACCPM 133

7.6 Numerical Results 134
7.6.1 Pendulum System 134
7.6.2 Dynamic Vehicle System with Skidding 138
7.6.3 Comparison of Runtime Results 140
7.7 Summary 142
Bibliography 143

8 An Application to Solar Photovoltaic Systems 147

8.1 Introduction 147
8.2 Problem Statement 150
8.2.1 PV Array Model 151
8.2.2 DC-D C Boost Converter 152
8.3 Optimal Control of PV Array 154
8.3.1 Maximum Power Point Tracking Control 156
8.3.2 Reference Voltage Tracking Control 162
8.3.3 Piecewise Learning Control 164
8.4 Application Considerations 165
8.4.1 Partial Derivative Approximation Procedure 165
8.4.2 Partial Shading Effect 167
8.5 Simulation Results 170
8.5.1 Model and Control Verification 173
8.5.2 Comparative Results 174
8.5.3 Model-Free Approach Results 176
8.5.4 Piecewise Learning Results 178
8.5.5 Partial Shading Results 179
8.6 Summary 182
Bibliography 182

9 An Application to Low-level Control of Quadrotors 187

9.1 Introduction 187
9.2 Quadrotor Model 189
9.3 Structured Online Learning with RLS Identifier on Quadrotor 190
9.3.1 Learning Procedure 191
9.3.2 Asymptotic Convergence with Uncertain Dynamics 195
9.3.3 Computational Properties 195
9.4 Numerical Results 197
9.5 Summary 201
Bibliography 201

10 Python Toolbox 205

10.1 Overview 205
10.2 User Inputs 205
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 Contents ix

10.2.1 Process 206

10.2.2 Objective 207
10.3 SOL 207
10.3.1 Model Update 208
10.3.2 Database 208
10.3.3 Library 210
10.3.4 Control 210
10.4 Display and Outputs 211
10.4.1 Graphs and Printouts 213
10.4.2 3D Simulation 213
10.5 Summary 214
Bibliography 214

A Appendix 215
A.1 Supplementary Analysis of Remark 5.4 215
A.2 Supplementary Analysis of Remark 5.5 222

Index 223
 xi

About the Authors

Milad Farsi received a B.S. degree in Electrical Engineering (Electronics) from

the University of Tabriz in 2010. He obtained an M.S. degree also in Electrical
Engineering (Control Systems) from Sahand University of Technology in 2013.
Moreover, he gained industrial experience as a Control System Engineer between
2012 and 2016. Later, he acquired a Ph.D. degree in Applied Mathematics from the
University of Waterloo, Canada, in 2022 and is currently a Postdoctoral Fellow at
the same institution. His research interests include control systems, reinforcement
learning, and their applications in robotics and power electronics.
Jun Liu received a B.S. degree in Applied Mathematics from Shanghai Jiao-Tong
University in 2002, the M.S. degree in Mathematics from Peking University
in 2005, and the Ph.D. degree in Applied Mathematics from the University of
Waterloo, Canada, in 2010. He is currently an Associate Professor of Applied
Mathematics and a Canada Research Chair in Hybrid Systems and Control at
the University of Waterloo, where he directs the Hybrid Systems Laboratory.
From 2012 to 2015, he was a Lecturer in Control and Systems Engineering at
the University of Sheffield. During 2011 and 2012, he was a Postdoctoral Scholar
in Control and Dynamical Systems at the California Institute of Technology.
His main research interests are in the theory and applications of hybrid systems
and control, including rigorous computational methods for control design with
applications in cyber-physical systems and robotics.
 xiii

Preface

The subject of Reinforcement Learning (RL) is popularly associated with the psy-
chology of animal learning through a trial-and-error mechanism. The underlying
mathematical principle of RL techniques, however, is undeniably the theory of
optimal control, as exemplified by landmark results in the late 1950s on dynamic
programming by Bellman, the maximum principle by Pontryagin, and the Linear
Quadratic Regulator (LQR) by Kalman. Optimal control itself has its roots in the
much older subject of calculus of variations, which dated back to late 1600s. Pon-
tryagin’s maximum principle and the Hamilton–Jacobi–Bellman (HJB) equation
are the two main pillars of optimal control, the latter of which provides feedback
control strategies through an optimal value function, whereas the former charac-
terizes open-loop control signals.
Reinforcement learning was developed by Barto and Sutton in the 1980s,
inspired by animal learning and behavioral psychology. The subject has expe-
rienced a resurgence of interest in both academia and industry over the past
decade, among the new explosive wave of AI and machine learning research. A
notable recent success of RL was in tackling the otherwise seemingly intractable
game of Go and defeating the world champion in 2016.
Arguably, the problems originally solved by RL techniques are mostly discrete in
nature. For example, navigating mazes and playing video games, where both the
states and actions are discrete (finite), or simple control tasks such as pole balanc-
ing with impulsive forces, where the actions (controls) are chosen to be discrete.
More recently, researchers started to investigate RL methods for problems with
both continuous state and action spaces. On the other hand, classical optimal con-
trol problems by definition have continuous state and control variables. It seems
natural to simply formulate optimal control problems in a more general way and
develop RL techniques to solve them. Nonetheless, there are two main challenges
in solving such optimal control problems from a computational perspective. First,
most techniques require exact or at least approximate model information. Second,
the computation of optimal value functions and feedback controls often suffers
xiv Preface

from the curse of dimensionality. As a result, such methods are often too slow to
be applied in an online fashion.
The book was motivated by this very challenge of developing computationally
efficient methods for online learning of feedback controllers for continuous
control problems. A main part of this book was based on the PhD thesis of the
first author, which presented a Structured Online Learning (SOL) framework
for computing feedback controllers by forward integration of a state-dependent
differential Riccati equation along state trajectories. In the special case of Linear
Time-Invariant (LTI) systems, this reduces to solving the well-known LQR prob-
lem without prior knowledge of the model. The first part of the book (Chapters
1–3) provides some background materials including Lyapunov stability analysis,
optimal control, and RL for continuous control problems. The remaining part
(Chapters 4–9) discusses the SOL framework in detail, covering both regulation
and tracking problems, their further extensions, and various case studies.
The first author would like to convey his heartfelt thanks to those who encour-
aged and supported him during his research. The second author is grateful to
the mentors, students, colleagues, and collaborators who have supported him
throughout his career. We gratefully acknowledge financial support for the
research through the Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council of
Canada, the Canada Research Chairs Program, and the Ontario Early Researcher
Award Program.

Waterloo, Ontario, Canada Milad Farsi and Jun Liu

April 2022
 xv

Acronyms

ACCPM analytic center cutting-plane method

ARE algebraic Riccati equation
DNN deep neural network
DP dynamic programming
DRE differential Riccati equation
FPRE forward-propagating Riccati equation
GD gradient descent
GUAS globally uniformly asymptotically stable
GUES globally uniformly exponentially stable
HJB Hamilton–Jacobi–Bellman
KDE kernel density estimation
LMS least mean squares
LQR linear quadratic regulator
LQT linear quadratic tracking
LS least square
LTI linear time-invariant
MBRL model-based reinforcement learning
MDP Markov decision process
MIQP mixed-integer quadratic program
MPC model predictive control
MPP maximum power point
MPPT maximum power point tracking
NN neural network
ODE ordinary differential equation
PDE partial differential equation
PE persistence of excitation
PI policy iteration
PV Photovoltaic
PWA piecewise affine
xvi Acronyms

PWM pulse-width modulation

RL reinforcement learning
RLS recursive least squares
RMSE root mean square error
ROA region of attraction
SDRE state-dependent Riccati equations
SINDy sparse identification of nonlinear dynamics
SMC sliding mode control
SOL structured online learning
SOS sum of squares
TD temporal difference
UAS uniformly asymptotically stable
UES uniformly exponentially stable
VI value iteration
 xvii

Introduction

I.1 Background and Motivation

I.1.1 Lack of an Efficient General Nonlinear Optimal Control
Technique
Optimal control theory plays an important role in designing effective control
systems. For linear systems, a class of optimal control problems are solved
successfully under the framework of Linear Quadratic Regulator (LQR). LQR
problems are concerned with minimizing a quadratic cost for linear systems in
terms of the control input and state, solving which allows us to regulate the state
and the control input of the system. In control systems applications, this provides
an opportunity to specifically regulate the behavior of the system by adjusting
the weighting coefficients used in the cost functional. However, when it turns
to nonlinear dynamical systems, there is no systematic method for efficiently
obtaining an optimal feedback control for the general nonlinear systems. Thus,
many of the techniques available in the literature on linear systems do not apply
in general.
Despite the complexity of nonlinear dynamical systems, they have attracted
much attention from researchers in recent years. This is mostly because of their
practical benefits in establishing a wide variety of applications in engineering,
including power electronics, flight control, and robotics, among many others.
Considering the control of a general nonlinear dynamical system, optimal control
involves finding a control input that minimizes a cost functional that depends
on the controlled state trajectory and the control input. While such a problem
formulation can cover a wide range of applications, how to efficiently solve such
problems remains a topic of active research.
xviii Introduction

I.1.2 Importance of an Optimal Feedback Control

In general, there exist two well-known approaches to solving such optimal con-
trol problems: the maximum (or minimum) principles [Pontryagin, 1987] and the
Dynamic Programming (DP) method [Bellman and Dreyfus, 1962]. To solve an
optimization problem that involves dynamics, maximum principles require us to
solve a two-point boundary value problem, where the solution is not in a feed-
back form.
There exist plenty of numerical techniques presented in the literature to solve
the optimal control problem. Such approaches generally rely on knowledge of
the exact model of the system. In the case where such a model exists, the optimal
control input is obtained in the open-loop form as a time-dependent signal.
Consequently, implementing these approaches in real-world problems often
involves many complications that are well known by the control community. This
is because of the model mismatch, noises, and disturbances that greatly affect
the online solution, causing it to diverge from the preplanned offline solution.
Therefore, obtaining a closed-loop solution for the optimal control problem is
often preferred in such applications.
The DP approach analytically results in a feedback control for linear systems
with a quadratic cost. Moreover, employing the Hamilton-Jacobi-Bellman (HJB)
equation with a value function, one might manage to derive an optimal feedback
control rule for some real-world applications, provided that the value function
can be updated in an efficient manner. This motivates us to consider conditions
leading to an optimal feedback control rule that can be efficiently implemented in
real-world problems.

I.1.3 Limits of Optimal Feedback Control Techniques

Consider an optimal control problem over an infinite horizon involving a non-
quadratic performance measure. Using the idea of inverse optimal control, the
cost functional can be then be evaluated in closed form as long as the running
cost depends somehow on an underlying Lyapunov function by which the asymp-
totic stability of the nonlinear closed-loop system is guaranteed. Then it can be
obtained that the Lyapunov function is indeed the solution of the steady-state HJB
equation. Although such a formulation allows analytically obtaining an optimal
feedback rule, choosing the proper performance measure may not be trivial. More-
over, from a practical point of view, because of the nonlinearity in the performance
measure, it might cause unpredictable behavior.
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Exploring the Variety of Random
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The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Parowan
Bonanza
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
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Title: The Parowan Bonanza

Author: B. M. Bower

Illustrator: Frank Tenney Johnson

Release date: April 1, 2019 [eBook #59179]

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PAROWAN

BONANZA ***
He packed an emergency camp outfit on Wise One, and
set out quite happily, walking beside Doris.
FRONTISPIECE. See page 103.
 The

Parowan Bonanza
BY
 B. M. BOWER
AUTHOR OF

CHIP OF THE FLYING U,

THE TRAIL OF THE WHITE MULE,
STARR OF THE DESERT, Etc.

FRONTISPIECE BY

FRANK TENNEY JOHNSON

NEW YORK

GROSSET & DUNLAP

PUBLISHERS

Made in the United States of America

Copyright, 1923,
By Little, Brown, and Company.
 All rights reserved

Published August, 1923

Reprinted November, 1923

Printed in the United States of America

 CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I Hopeful Bill Dale 3
II Music Hath Charms 16
III Luella Announces 29
IV Good, Lively Prospect 41
V Strangers in Camp 50
VI Bill Grows Sentimental 65
VII What Drives Prospectors Crazy 74
VIII "Monte Cristo Would Enjoy This!" 86
IX A "Hint" from Doris 96
X "We're Rich, Bill, Dear" 108
XI Mr. Rayfield Gives Advice 119
XII A Man Shouldn't Mix Business with Love 130
XIII Bill Learns About Women from 'er 146
XIV Baker Cole 159
XV "Mary's Going to Have a Home!" 171
XVI So Bill Goes Back 180
XVII Bill Gives the Public Mind a Lift 191
XVIII The Yarn Al Freeman Told 205
XIX "There'll Be More to Come of It" 219
XX Luella Entertains 229
XXI Bill and the Tame Bandits 240
XXII Bill Buys Parowan 255
XXIII Bill is Back Where He Started 260
XXIV The Town That Was 282
XXV Hopeless Bill Dale 291
XXVI Bill Acquires a Cook 295

THE
PAROWAN BONANZA
 CHAPTER ONE
HOPEFUL BILL DALE
To those who do not know the desert, the word usually conjures a
picture of hot, waterless wastes of sand made desolate by sparse,
withered gray sage more depressing than no growth at all; blighted
by rattlesnakes and scorpions and the bleached bones of men from
which lean coyotes go skulking away in the brazen heat that comes
with the dawn; a place where men go mad with thirst and die
horribly, babbling the while of mountain brooks and the cool blur of
lakes shining blue in the distance, painted treacherously there by the
desert mirage.
Sometimes the desert is like that in certain places and at certain
seasons of the year, but the men who know it best forgive the desert
its trespasses, and love it for its magnificent distances, always
beautiful, always changing their panorama of lights and shadows on
uptilted mesas and deep, gray-green valleys. Such men yield to the
thrall of desert sorcery that paints wonderful, translucent tints of
blue, violet and purple on all the mountains there against the sky.
They love the desert nights when the stars come down in friendly
fashion to gaze tranquilly upon them as they sit beside their camp
fires and smoke and dream, and see rapturous visions of great
wealth born of that mental mirage which is but another bit of desert
enchantment.
Bill Dale was such a man. Hopeful Bill, men called him, with the
corners of their mouths tipped down. Bill loved the desert, loved to
wander over it with his two burros waddling under full packs of grub
and mining tools and dynamite. He loved to pry and peck into some
mineral outcropping in a far canyon where no prospector had been
before him. And though he sometimes cursed the heat and the wind
and brackish water, where he expected a clear, cold spring, he loved
the desert, nevertheless, and called it home.
Men jibed at his unquenchable optimism and mistook the man
behind his twinkling eyes for a rainbow chaser, mirage-mad in a mild
way. For even in Nevada, where the hills have made many a man a
millionaire, they laugh at the seeker and call failure after him until he
has found what he seeks. Then they want his friendship and a share
in his good fortune; and this merely because Nevada is peopled—
very thinly—with human beings and not by gods or saints.
Occasionally, when Bill Dale came to town for fresh supplies and
mail, some one would wonder why a great, strapping fellow like
Hopeful didn't go to work. Perhaps that was because Hopeful carried
a safety razor in his pack, and had the knack of looking well-
groomed on a pint of water, a clean shirt, an aluminum comb and six
inches of mirror. Your orthodox prospector (at least in fiction)
promises himself a bath and a clean shave when he strikes it rich,
and frequently is made to forego the luxury for years.
Men liked Hopeful Bill, but they thought he was a shiftless cuss who
would never amount to anything, since he had taken to the burro
trail. A few remembered that Hopeful's father had been unlucky in a
boom when Hopeful was just a kid. They thought it was a bad thing
to have the legend of a gold mine in the family. Personally they
called him a good scout,—and that was because they could borrow
money from him, if he had any, and need not fear the
embarrassment of being asked to repay it. They could tell their
private troubles to Bill and be sure that he would never betray the
confidence. But it never occurred to any man that knew him that
Hopeful Bill Dale might now and then need money, or sympathy, or
some one besides his menagerie to tell his troubles to.
It was the menagerie that belittled Hopeful Bill Dale in the eyes of
his fellows. Commonplace souls they were, their brains dust-dry in
that cranny where imagination should flourish. They could not see
why any grown man should carry a green parrot and a great, gray,
desert turtle around with him wherever he went. They were willing
to concede the harmlessness of the fuzzy-faced Airedale, since any
man is entitled to own a dog if he wants one. But they could not
understand a man who would call a dog Hezekiah; which was not a
dog's name at all. The mournful, hairy-chopped Hezekiah was
therefore a walking proof of Hopeful Bill Dale's eccentricity. And as
all the world knows, a man must be rich before he dare be different
from his fellows.
Of course, they argued in Goldfield, any grown man that would keep
a turtle on a string—tied firmly through a hole bored in the tail of its
shell—might be expected to call it Sister Mitchell and claim that it
had a good Methodist face. Who ever heard of a turtle having a
face? And there was the parrot, that cooed lovingly against Bill's
cheek and made little kissing sounds with its beak,—the same beak
that had taken a chunk out of a stranger's hand, swearing volubly at
her victim afterward. Even if Goldfield could overlook the parrot,
there was its name to damn Hopeful Bill Dale finally and completely.
Couldn't call it Polly, which is the natural, normal name for a parrot!
No, he had to name the thing Luella. Add to that Bill's burros, that
answered gravely to the names Wise One and Angelface. Could any
man know these things and still take Bill Dale seriously?
Goldfield shook its head—behind Bill's back—and said he was a nice,
likable fellow, but—a little bit "off" in some ways.
So there you have him, according to the estimate of his
acquaintances: A great, good-natured, fine-looking man in his early
thirties; a man always ready to listen to a tale of woe or to put his
hand in his pocket and give of what he had, nor question the
worthiness of the cause; but a man who seemed content to wander
through the hills prospecting, when he might have made a success
of some business more certain of yielding a good living—and
mediocrity; a man with a queer kink somewhere in his make-up that
prevented his taking life seriously.
Prospectors were usually men who, having failed, through age or
other cause, to make good at anything else, took to burrowing in the
hills and pecking at rocks and dreaming. If the habit fixed itself upon
them they became plain desert rats, crack-brained and useless for
any other vocation. Hopeful Bill Dale was too young, too vigorous to
have the name "desert rat" laid upon him,—yet. But it was tacitly
agreed that he was in a fair way to become a desert rat, if he did
not pull up short and turn his mind to something else. The
purposeless life he was leading would "get" him in a few more years,
they prophesied sagely.
One day in spring Bill Dale walked behind his burros into Goldfield
and outfitted for a long trip. Had any one examined closely Bill's
pack loads, he would have guessed that Hopeful Bill had a camp
established somewhere in the wilderness and was in for all the grub
his two burros and a borrowed one could carry.
The storekeeper knew, as he weighed out sugar, rice, beans, dried
fruit (prunes, raisins and apricots mostly), that Bill was buying with a
careful regard for the maximum nourishment coupled with the
minimum weight. For instance, Bill bought five pounds of black tea,
though he loved coffee with true American fervor. Rolled oats he also
bought,—a twenty-five pound sack. There was a great deal of
nourishment in rolled oats, properly cooked. And when Bill called for
two large cans of beef extract, the storekeeper looked at him
knowingly.
"Goin' to develop something you've struck, hey?" he guessed with
unconscious presumption.
"Going to stay till the grub's low, anyway," Bill drawled
imperturbably. "Hazing burros over the trail is going to be hot work,
from now on until fall. It's cooler in the hills. I'm taking out a rented
burro that will come back alone. I figure this grubstake ought to run
me until cool weather."
"Got a pretty good claim?" Storekeepers in mining towns are likely to
be inquisitive.
"Can't say as I have," Bill grinned. "Open for engagements with old
Dame Fortune, though. Kinda hoping, too, that she don't send her
daughter, instead, to make a date with me."
"Her daughter?" The storekeeper was one of those who had desert
dust in the folds of his brain. "Who's she?"
Bill looked at him soberly, rolling a smoke with fingers smoother and
better kept than prospectors usually could show.
"Mean to tell me you never met Miss Fortune yet?" His lips were
serious; as for his eyes, one never could tell. His eyes always had a
twinkle. "She can sure keep a man guessing," he added. "I like her
mother better, myself."
"Oh. Er—he-he! Pretty good," testified the storekeeper dubiously.
Something queer about a fellow that springs things you never heard
of before, he was thinking. The storekeeper liked best the familiar
jokes he had heard all his life. He didn't have to think out their
meaning.
"Hey! Cut that out! Bill! Take a look at that!" A voice outside called
imperiously, and Bill swung toward the door.
"What is it, Luella?"
"Take a look at that! Git a move on!"
In the doorway Bill stopped. Luella was walking pigeon-toed up and
down the back of Wise One, where she usually perched while Bill
traveled the desert. Three half-grown boys were crowding close,
trying to reach the string of Sister Mitchell, who had crawled under
the store steps. The string was fastened to the crotch of Wise One's
pack saddle, and Wise One was circling slowly, keeping his heels
toward the enemy. Luella's tail was spread fanwise, showing the red
which even Nature seems to recognize as a danger signal. Her eyes
were yellow flames, her neck feathers were ruffled. By all these
signs Luella was not to be trifled with.
"Cut that out! Hez! Here, Hez! Where the hell is that dog? Hezekiah!
Bill! Come alive, come alive!" Up and down, up and down, one foot
lifted over the other, her eyes on the giggling boys, Luella
expostulated and swore.
Bill stepped outside, throwing away the burnt stub of a match. The
three boys looked at him and fled, though Bill was not half so
dangerous as Luella or Wise One, either of which would have sent
them yelping in another minute.
"Hez! Here, Hez! Where the hell's that dog?" Luella called again
impatiently and wheeled, stepping up relievedly upon Bill's
outstretched finger. "Lord, what a world!" she muttered pensively,
and subsided under Bill's caressing hand.
Bill dragged Sister Mitchell from under the steps and swung her,
head down, to the porch. He sat down beside her, his knees drawn
up, Luella perched upon one of them.
"Add two cartons of Durham, will you?" Bill called over his shoulder
to the storekeeper and turned back to his perturbed pets.
Sister Mitchell thrust forth a cautious head and craned a skinny neck,
looking for fresh alarms. Luella tilted her head and eyed the turtle
speculatively. "Cut that out!" she commanded harshly, and Sister
Mitchell drew in her head timorously before she realized that it was
only parrot talk and not to be taken seriously.
The storekeeper asked Bill a question which necessitated Bill's
personal examination of two brands of bacon; wherefore, he placed
Luella on the porch beside Sister Mitchell and went inside to finish
making up his load of supplies. When he emerged with a sack of
flour on his shoulder and three sides of bacon under one arm, Luella
was riding up the platform on Sister Mitchell's back and telling her to
"git a move on." At the other end of the porch a small audience
stood laughing at the performance.
"What'll you take for that parrot, Hopeful?" a man asked, grinning.
"Same price you ask for your oldest kid," Bill retorted, and returned
for another load from the store.
"Make that strike yet?" another called, as Bill came out with his arms
full.
"You bet! Solid ledge of gold, Jim. Knock it off in chunks with a
single-jack and gadget. Bring you a hunk next trip in—if I can think
of it."
"Hate to hang by the heels till you do," Jim retorted.
"Hate to have you," Bill agreed placidly, stepping over Luella and her
mount that he might deposit his load on the edge of the porch.
"What yuh got out there, anyway?" Jim persisted curiously. "You
aren't packing all that grub out in the desert just to eat in the shade
of a Joshuway tree. What yuh got?"
"Hopes." Bill bent and slid a sack from his shoulder to the pile of
supplies. "Outcropping of lively looking rock, Jim. Good indications.
I'm hoping it'll turn out something, maybe, when I get into it a
ways."
"Get an assay on it?" Jim's curiosity was fading perceptibly. The
same old story: lively looking rock, indications; desert rats all came
in with that elusive encouragement.
"Trace of silver, two dollars in gold," Hopeful Bill replied. "I'm hoping
it'll run into higher values when I hit the contact."
"What contact you got?" Jim's tone was plainly disparaging. "You
can't bank too strong on values at contact, Bill."
"Well, this looks pretty fair," Bill argued mildly. "A showing of
quartzite,—if it's in place; which I'm digging to find out. Nothing lost
but a little sweat and powder, if I don't hit it. I can eat as cheaply in
the hills as I can here. Cheaper." From under his dusty hat brim he
sent a glance toward the restaurant across the street. "And I know
it's clean. I like to have eat a fly, this noon."
"Why didn't you try the Waffle Parlor? They've got screens."
"My own cooking suits me just fine," Bill returned amiably.
"All right, if you like that kinda life," Jim carped. "I should think
you'd want to get into something, Bill. You aren't any has-been——"
"Nope, I'm a never-was," Bill retorted shamelessly. "And a going-to-
be," he added with naïve assurance. "You mark that down in your
book, Jim. Some day you're going to brag about knowing Bill Dale.
Some day your tone's going to be hearty and your hand'll be out
when you see me coming. You guys will all of you be saying you
knew me when."
The group bent backward to let the laughs out full and free. Into the
midst of their mirth Luella came scrabbling with her pigeon-toed
walk, her tail spread wide and her throat ruffled.
"You cut that out!" she shrieked angrily. "Hez! Here, Hez! Where the
hell's that dog? Git outa here! Git a move on."
Bill grabbed her before she succeeded in shedding blood.
"Luella doesn't like the tone of that applause," he observed, holding
her close to his chest while he smoothed her ruffled feathers.
"Luella's a sensitive bird, and she stands up for her folks."
With three loaded burros nipping along before him, the whiskered
Hezekiah slouching at his heels, and Luella and Sister Mitchell riding
serenely the pack of Wise One, Bill left the town and struck off up
the hill by a trail he knew that would cut off a great elbow of the
highway, which was dusty and rutted with the passing of great,
heavy ore wagons and automobiles loaded with fortune-hunters and
camp equipment. At the crest of the long slope the burros stopped
to breathe, and Bill turned and stood gazing back at the camp
whose first fever was already cooling a bit, leaving the restless ones
a bit bored and eager for some new strike in a fresh district, with the
whooping boom times that must inevitably follow.
"Laugh, darn you!" Bill figuratively addressed Jim and his
companions down there in the town. "You're bone from your necks
up, or you'd see plumb through my talk—and be on my trail like ants
after a leaky syrup can. Go ahead and laugh, and call me a fool
behind my back! You won't take the notion to follow me, anyway."
"Lord, what a world!" chuckled Luella, scrambling for fresh foothold
on the canvas pack as Wise One started on with a lurch.
"You're dead right, old girl," Bill agreed; and went on, grinning at
something hidden in his thoughts.
 CHAPTER TWO
MUSIC HATH CHARMS
Just before sundown, while Bill and his burros and Hezekiah were
plodding down the highway toward the sporadic camp called Cuprite,
a big touring car came roaring up behind and passed Hopeful Bill in
a smothering cloud of yellow dust. Bill observed that it was loaded
with luggage and stared after it with that aimless interest which the
empty desert breeds in men. A coyote on a hilltop, a strange track in
the trail, human beings traveling that way,—it matters little what
trivial thing breaks the monotony of plodding through desert
country.
Bill could remember when this same road was peopled with men
rushing here and there after elusive fortune. Good men and bad,
honest men and thieves, the dust never settled to lie long upon the
yellow trail. That last two years had made a difference. The tide was
fast ebbing, and men were rushing elsewhere in search of the
millions they coveted.
"Get a move on!" Bill called to Wise One, at the head of the pack
train, with the strange burro tied behind at a sufficient length of
rope to protect him from Wise One's heels, which were likely to lift
unexpectedly. Luella repeated the command three times without
stopping, and the burros shuffled a bit faster in the lowering dust
cloud kicked up by the speeding car.
Farther on, Wise One stopped short, backing up from an object in
the trail. Bill went forward to investigate, and lifted from the ground
a black leather case such as musicians use to hold band instruments.
Bill undid the catches and looked in upon a shining, silver object with
a gold-lined, bell-shaped mouth and many flat discs all up and down
its length. He gazed up the road, already veiled with the purplish
haze that comes to the desert before dusk, when the sun has dipped
behind a mountain. The car was gone, hidden completely from sight
by a low ridge.
"They'll be back," Bill observed tranquilly, and tied the case securely
upon the pack of Angelface. "They're bound to miss a thing like that.
Anyway, I'll probably run across 'em somewhere."
"Hate to hang till yuh do," remarked Luella, who had evidently been
adding to her repertoire in Goldfield while no one thought she was
taking heed; which is the way of parrots the world over.
"I don't know about that, now," Bill grinned. "Anyway, if it was mine,
I know I'd miss it. I always did want to play a horn."
"Aw, cut it out!" Luella advised him shrewishly. "Git a move on!"
Which pertinent retort may possibly explain why Hopeful Bill Dale
looked upon the parrot as a real companion. He swore that the bird
understood what he said and conversed intelligently, so far as her
vocabulary permitted. And her vocabulary, while simple, seemed
sufficient for her needs.
Instead of turning aside to a certain spring and camping there for
the night, Bill camped near the road where he could not miss seeing
and being seen, if any came that way. It was quite a tramp to the
spring, so he took a couple of desert water bags and mounted Wise
One, leaving the other two burros to follow, and trusting his supplies
to the care of Hezekiah and the parrot.
He was not approached that night, nor the next day. Cars passed
him, it is true, hurrying through dust clouds from either direction;
but never the automobile that had lost the horn. So Bill arrived, in
the course of time, at his camp, richer—or poorer, according to
viewpoint—by one band instrument of doubtful name and unknown
possibilities.
In spring the desert is beautiful. Bill loved the desert flowers, vivid
pinks and blues and yellows, dainty of form, sweet as honeycomb.
He loved the desert lights, as delicately vivid as were the flowers
growing out of the sandy soil, shyly snuggled against some stiff,
scraggy bush. Cottontails romped through the sage in the afterglow
that lingers long in that high altitude, and Bill let them go
unmolested, and gave Hezekiah a lecture. He did not believe in
killing just because one can, and there was meat in camp already.
From the juniper bushes above the spring the quail were calling.
"Shut-that-door! Shut-that-door!"—or so Bill and Luella interpreted
the call. Farther up on the hillside, doves were crying mournfully.
And Bill knew that higher, on the very top of the butte, mountain
sheep, deer and antelope were hiding their bandy-legged young
away from the prowling coyotes and "link cats" that were less
conscientious than Bill when the chance came for a killing.
Yet this was the desert, against which men rail. There was no
mistaking. Out there stood a barrel cactus, almost within reach of a
gaunt yucca whose awkward, spiny limbs were rigidly upheld like
bloated arms,—colloquially called Joshua trees because they seemed
always to be imploring the sun. Down in the valley a dry lake lay
baked yellow, hard as cement, with dust devils whirling dizzily down
its bald length when Bill looked that way. On the map you will see
that valley. It is officially known as the Amargosa Desert. And over
the ridge which wore a mystic veil of blended violet and amethyst,
Death Valley lay crouched low amongst the hills. The maps call that
amethyst and violet pile the Funeral Mountains; and away to the
east, Bill could see the faint blue line of Skull Mountains and the
Specter Range standing bold behind the Skeleton Hills; proof enough
that this was the desert, since it bore the sinister names given it by
those who knew too little and dared too much.
It could be cruel,—but not crueller than the cities. It could be lonely,
though not so lonely as a multitude. The air was clean and sweet
and of that heady quality that only altitude can give. Bill squatted on
his heels by his camp fire, just about four thousand feet above sea
level,—higher than that above the floor of Death Valley, whose rim
he could see, whose poison springs he knew, whose terrible breath
he had drawn into his nostrils.
From now on the geography will remain closed and you must take
my word for it. And when I tell you that the great, blunt-topped
butte behind him was Parowan Peak, don't look for it on the map;
you'll never find it. It's a great, wild country, a beautiful, savage
country, and if you don't love it you will fear it greatly. And fear it is
that rouses the sleeping devil of the desert and sets the bones of
men bleaching under the arid sky.
Hopeful Bill Dale knew the desert, and loved it, and made friends
with it. He plucked a bright red "Indian paintbrush" from beside a
rock and held it up to Luella, watching him cock-eyed from her crude
perch of juniper laid across two forked sticks driven into the sand.
Luella took the flower in one claw, looked it over and dropped it
disdainfully.
"Aw, cut it out! Let's eat," she suggested.
"You're on," Bill replied amiably, turning fried potatoes out of the
frying pan. "Come and get it, old girl."
Luella was not a flying bird, except under stress of great emotion.
Now she leaned head downward, her beak closing upon a knob
where a small branch had been lopped off the stick. Turning like an
acrobat, she went down with the aid of beak and claws, and pigeon-
toed over to Bill's crude table, crawled upon a convenient rock and
waited solemnly for her first helping of fried potato, which she ate
daintily, holding it in one claw.
"I've got a surprise for you, old girl," Bill began, when the edge of
their hunger had dulled a bit. "That horn we picked up in the road,—
it's mine now, by right of discovery. You saw how I stuck to the
Goldfield road and made an extra day's journey of the trip, just in
case that car came back, hunting for the horn. Lord knows where
they are, by now. So I figure the thing belongs to me. After supper,
I'm going to open her up and give you some music."
"Hate to hang till yuh do," Luella observed pessimistically. "Let's
eat."
Bill dipped a piece of bread in his coffee and gave it to her, unmoved
by her pessimism. "One thing a fellow needs out here alone is
distraction," he went on. "You're getting so you know more than I do
—leave you to tell it—and you're more human than lots of folks.
You've reached the point where I can't seem to teach you anything
more, Luella. You could almost hold down a claim alone, except for
the cooking and maybe swinging a single-jack. So I figure a little
diversion will come in about right."
"You're on," said Luella. "Git a move on."
So that is how Hopeful Bill Dale conceived the idea of becoming a
musician, thus making use of the opportunity which Providence—or
something not so kind—had thrown in his way. It may seem a trivial
thing, but trivial things have a fashion of tripping one's feet in the
race for happiness, or perchance proving to be the one factor that
makes success certain. Bill washed his dishes and tidied his camp,
and then he opened the instrument case and for the first time
removed the shining thing within. Luella, once more back on her
perch, watched him distrustfully.
"Luck's own baby boy!" he ejaculated under his breath. "Here's a
book goes with it. 'Progressive Method for the Saxophone.'
Saxophone, hunh? I always did want to learn one, Luella; believe it
or not. Well, let's go."
"Aw, cut it out!" Luella advised him gloomily, but Bill was absorbed in
putting together the instrument and in reading certain directions on
the first page of the book.
Followed a muttered monologue, accompanied by certain unusual
grimaces and gestures.
"'Upper and lower lips slightly over the teeth—chin must be down—
lips drawn back as when laughing.' I got that, all right. 'Put the
mouthpiece into the mouth a little less than halfway.'" Goggling
down at the page, Bill obeyed,—or tried to. When he recovered from
that experiment, he read in silence and looked up at Luella puzzled.
"Now if you were human, you could maybe explain to me how a
fellow is going to breathe steadily without making use of his nose,
mouth, ears or eyes," he hazarded. "Your mouth is full of saxophone
to your palate and past it, and you mustn't breathe through your
nose, because that looks bad, and your eyes must follow the notes
and it's against the rule to puff out your cheeks, which is
unbecoming. I figure, Luella, a man's got to curl up his toes and die
till he's through playing. Hunh?"
"Git a move on! Come alive, come alive!"
"Oh, well,—" said Bill, and began again.
Nothing happened, save imminent death from strangulation. Bill
looked foolishly at the instrument. Once more he placed certain
fingers carefully upon certain keys, flattened his lips to a fixed,
painful grin, swallowed as much mouthpiece as was possible without
choking himself to death, and blew until his eyes popped. Sister
Mitchell came slowly forward and stood with her skinny gray neck
stretched toward Bill, her melancholy eyes regarding curiously the
long silver thing in Bill's tense embrace. Hezekiah came up and
squatted on his stump of a tail, his ugly, hairy face tilted sidewise
while he stared. Bill's family were always keenly interested in
everything that concerned Bill, if it were only a new label on a can of
tomatoes.
"Didn't get a rise out of it yet," Bill apologized embarrassedly, "but I
will. I've heard fellows warble on these brutes till your heart fair
melts in your chest. What they can do, I can do. A little music,
evenings, is what this camp needs."
In the dimming light he read the confusing instructions all over
again, engulfed the ebony mouthpiece within his carefully grinning
mouth, took a deep breath,—and something slipped. A terrific, deep
bass note rumbled forth quite unexpectedly, before Bill had fairly
begun to blow.
Bill jumped. Sister Mitchell disappeared precipitately into her shell,
Luella let out an oath which Bill only used under sudden
overwhelming emotion, and Hezekiah gave a howl and streaked it
into the desert.
Bill recovered first, and on the whole he was pleased with himself.
He had gotten the hang of it by sheer accident, and he sat and
made terrible sounds while Luella paced up and down her perch with
her tail spread, cursing and imploring by turns.
She wronged Bill if she thought that Bill enjoyed his spasmodic
blattings and squeakings. He did not. He winced at every squawk,
even while he persisted doggedly in the uproar. Through discord only
might he hope to become a master of the melody he craved,
wherefore he endured the discord, thankful that no human being
was near. It took him all the next day to round up the burros,
however, and Sister Mitchell went into retirement in her shell and
remained there stubbornly.
Thereafter, the stars looked down upon a pathetic little desert
comedy enacted every night: The pathetic comedy of Bill Dale tying
up his burros and his dog and anchoring a gray desert turtle to a
rock before he sat down, with a dull-green instruction book before
him on the ground, its corners weighted with small rocks, and
practiced dolefully and indefatigably upon a silver-plated saxophone.
As long as he could see he would sit cross-legged, humped over his
notes,—of which he possessed a rudimentary knowledge learned in
school. When darkness blurred the staff, Bill would tootle up and
down the scale to the accompaniment of vituperous remarks from
Luella and an occasional howl from Hez.
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