Eavesdropping
: CURLY: Crooked Trails And Straight
Out of the murmur of voices came one that Curly recognized as that of
Soapy Stone, alias You Know Who.
" ... then you'll take the 9:57, Sam...."
After more whispering, "Yep, soon as you hear the first shot ... cover the
passengers...."
The listener lost what followed. Once he thought he heard the name Tin
Cup, but he could not be sure. Presently another fragment drifted to him.
"...make our getaway and cache the plunder...."
The phonograph lifted up its voice again. This time it was "I love a
lassie." Before the song was finished there came the sound of shuffling
feet. One of the men in the next stall was leaving. Curly could not tell
which one, nor did he dare look over the top of the partition to find out.
He was playing safe. This adventure had caught him so unexpectedly that he
had not found time to run back to his room for his six-gun. What would
happen to him if he were caught listening was not a matter of doubt. Soapy
would pump lead into him till he quit kicking, slap a saddle on a broncho,
and light out for the Sonora line.
As the phonograph finished unexpectedly--someone had evidently interrupted
the record--the fragment of a sentence seemed to jump at Curly.
" ... so the kid will get his in the row."
It was the voice of Soapy, raised slightly to make itself heard above the
music.
"Take care," another voice replied, and Flandrau would have sworn that
this belonged to Blackwell.
Stone, who had been sitting on the other side of the table, moved close to
the paroled convict. Between him and Curly there was only the thickness of
a plank. The young man was afraid that the knocking of his heart could be
heard.
" ... don't like it," Blackwell was objecting sullenly.
"Makes it safe for us. Besides"--Stone's voice grated like steel rasping
steel, every word distinct though very low--"I swore to pay off Luck
Cullison, and by God! I'm going to do it."
"Someone will hear you if you ain't careful," the convict protested
anxiously.
"Don't be an old woman, Lute."
" ... if you can do it safe. I owe Luck Cullison much as you do, but...."
Again they fell to whispers. The next word that came to Curly clearly was
his own name. But it was quite a minute before he gathered what they were
saying.
"Luck Cullison went his bail. I learnt it this mo'ning."
"The son-of-a-gun. It's a cinch he's a spy. And me wanting you to let him
in so's he could hold the sack instead of Sam."
"Knew it wouldn't do, Lute. He's smart as a whip."
"Reckon he knows anything?"
"No. Can't."
"If I thought he did----"
"Keep your shirt on, Lute. He don't know a thing. And you get revenge on
him all right. Sam will run with him and his friends while he's here.
Consequence is, when they find the kid where we leave him they'll sure
guess Curly for one of his pardners. Tell you his ticket is good as bought
to Yuma. He's a horse thief. Why shouldn't he be a train robber, too.
That's how a jury will argue."
Blackwell grumbled something under his breath.
Stone's voice grated harshly. "Me too. If he crosses my trail I'm liable
to spoil his hide before court meets. No man alive can play me for a
sucker and throw me down. Not Soapy Stone."
Once more the voices ran together indistinctly. It was not till Blackwell
suggested that they go get a drink that Curly understood anything more of
what was being said.
The outlaws passed out of the little room and strolled forward to the
bar.
Curly had heard more than he had expected to. Moreover, as he
congratulated himself, his luck had stood up fine. Nobody in the sunburnt
territory felt happier than he did that minute when he struck the good
fresh air of the alley and knew that he had won through his hazardous
adventure alive.
The first thing that Flandrau did was to walk toward the outskirts of the
town where he could think it out by himself. But in this little old planet
events do not always occur as a man plans them. Before he reached Arroyo
street Curly came plump against his old range-mate Slats Davis.
The assistant foreman of the Hashknife nodded as he passed. He had helped
Curly escape less than a month before, but he did not intend to stay
friendly with a rustler.
Flandrau caught him by the arm. "Hello, Slats. You're the man I want."
"I'm pretty busy to-day," Davis answered stiffly.
"Forget it. This is more important."
"Well?"
"Come along and take a walk. I got something to tell you."
"Can't you tell it here?"
"I ain't going to, anyhow. Come along. I ain't got smallpox."
Reluctantly Davis fell in beside him. "All right. Cut it short. I've got
to see a man."
"He'll have to wait." Curly could not help chuckling to himself at the
evident embarrassment of the other. The impish impulse to "devil" him had
its way. "You're a man of experience, Slats. Ever hold up a train?"
The foreman showed plainly his disgust at this foolishness. "Haven't you
sense enough ever to be serious, Curly? You're not a kid any more. In age
you're a grown man. But how do you act? Talk like that don't do you any
good. You're in trouble good and deep. Folks have got their eyes on you.
Now is the time to show them you have quit all that hell raising you have
been so busy at."
"He sure is going good this mo'ning," Curly drawled confidentially to the
scenery. "You would never guess, would you, that him and me had raised
that crop in couples?"
"That's all right, too. I'm no sky pilot. But I know when to quit.
Seemingly you don't. I hear you've been up at Stone's horse ranch. I want
to tell you that won't do you any good if it gets out."
"Never was satisfied till I had rounded up all the trouble in sight.
That's why I mentioned this train robbery. Some of my friends are aiming
to hold up one shortly. If you'd like to get in I'll say a good word for
you."
Davis threw at him a look that drenched like ice water. "I expect you and
me are traveling different trails these days, Curly. You don't mean it of
course, but the point is I'm not going to joke with you along that line.
Understand?"
"Wrong guess, old hoss. I do mean it."
Davis stopped in his tracks. "Then you've said too much to me. We'll part
right here."
"It takes two to agree to that, Slats."
"That's where you're wrong. One is enough. We used to be good friends, but
those days are past. None of us can keep a man from being a durned fool if
he wants to be one. Nor a scoundrel. You've got the bit in your teeth and
I reckon you'll go till there is a smash. But you better understand this.
When you choose Soapy Stone's, crowd to run with that cuts out me and
other decent folks. If they have sent you here to get me mixed up in their
deviltry you go back and tell them there's nothing doing."
"Won't have a thing to do with them. Is that it?"
"Not till the call comes for citizens to get together and run them out of
the country. Or to put them behind bars. Or to string them to a
cottonwood. Then I'll be on the job."
He stood there quiet and easy, the look in his steady eyes piercing
Curly's ironic smile as a summer sun does mackerel clouds in a clear sky.
Not many men would have had the courage to send that message to Soapy and
his outfit. For Stone was not only a man killer, but a mean one at that.
Since he had come back from the penitentiary he had been lying pretty low,
but he brought down from the old days a record that chilled the blood.
Curly sloughed his foolishness and came to the point.
"You're on, Slats. I'm making that call to you now."
The eyes of the two men fastened. Those of Flandrau had quit dancing and
were steady as the sun in a blue sky. Surprise, doubt, wonder, relief
filled in turn the face of the other man.
"I'm listening, Curly."
His friend told him the whole story from the beginning, just as he had
been used to do in the old days. And Davis heard it without a word, taking
the tale in quietly with a grim look settling, on his face.
"So he aims to play traitor to young Cullison. The thing is damnable."
"He means to shut Sam's mouth for good and all. That is what he has been
playing for from the start, to get even with Luck. He and his gang will
get away with the haul and they will leave Sam dead on the scene of the
hold-up. There will be some shooting, and it will be figured the boy was
hit by one of the train crew. Nothing could be easier."
"If it worked out right."
"Couldn't help working out right. That's why Soapy didn't let me in on the
proposition. To get rid of one would be no great trouble, but two--well,
that's different. Besides, I could tell he was not sure of me. Now he aims
to put me on the stand and prove by me that Sam and he had a quarrel and
parted company mighty sore at each other hardly a week before the hold-up.
He'll have an alibi too to show he couldn't have been in it. You'll see."
"You wouldn't think a white man could take a revenge like that on his
enemy. It's an awful thing to do in cold blood."
"Soapy is no white man. He's a wolf. See how slick his scheme is. At one
flip of the cards he kills the kid and damns his reputation. He scores
Cullison and he snuffs out Sam, who had had the luck to win the girl Soapy
fancies. The boy gets his and the girl is shown she can't love another man
than Stone."
"Ever hear the story of French Dan?" asked Slats.
"Not to know the right of it."
"Soapy and Dan trained together in them days and went through a lot of
meanness as side pardners. One day the Arivaca stage was held up by two
men and the driver killed. In the scrap one of the men had his mask torn
off. It was French Dan. Well, the outlaws had been too damned busy. Folks
woke up and the hills were sprinkled with posses. They ran the fellows
down and hunted them from place to place. Two--three times they almost
nailed them. Shots were exchanged. A horse of one of the fugitives was
killed and they could not get another. Finally one dark night the outlaws
were surrounded. The posse lay down in the zacaton and waited for morning.
In the night one of them heard a faint sound like the popping of a cork.
When mo'ning broke the hunters crept forward through the thick grass.
Guess what they found."
Curly's answer was prompt. "Gimme a harder one. There were two men and
only one horse. The only chance was to slip through the line before day
arrived. My guess is that they found French Dan with a little round hole
in his skull--and that the bullet making it had gone in from behind. My
guess also is that the posse didn't find the horse and the other man, just
a trail through the zacaton back into the hills."
"Go to the head of the class. There was one man too many in that thicket
for the horse. French Dan's pardner was afraid they might not agree about
who was to have the bronch for a swift getaway. So he took no chances.
There's only one man alive to-day can swear that Soapy was the man with
French Dan lying in the zacaton. And he'll never tell, because he pumped
the bullet into his friend. But one thing is sure. Soapy disappeared from
Arizona for nearly two years. You can pick any reason you like for his
going. That is the one I choose."
"Same here. And the man that would shoot one partner in the back would
shoot another if he had good reasons. By his way of it Soapy has reasons
a-plenty."
"I'm satisfied that is his game. Question is how to block it. Will you go
to the sheriff?"
"No. Bolt would fall down on it. First off, he would not believe the story
because I'm a rustler myself. Soapy and his friends voted for Bolt. He
would go to them, listen to their story, prove part of it by me, and turn
them loose for lack of evidence. Sam would go back to Dead Cow with them,
and Stone would weave another web for the kid."
"You've got it about right," Slats admitted. "How about warning Sam?"
"No use. He would go straight to Soapy with it, and his dear friend would
persuade him it was just a yarn cooked up to get him to throw down the
only genuwine straight-up pal he ever had."
"Cullison then?"
"You're getting warm. I've had that notion myself. The point is, would he
be willing to wait and let Soapy play his hand out till we called?"
"You would have to guarantee his boy would be safe meanwhile."
"Two of us would have to watch him day and night without Sam knowing it."
"Count me in."
"This is where we hit heavy traveling, Slats. For we don't know when the
thing is going to be pulled off."
"We'll have to be ready. That's all."
"Happen to know whether Dick Maloney is here for the show?"
"Saw him this mo'ning. Luck is here too, him and his girl."
"Good. We've got to have a talk with them, and it has to be on the q.t.
You go back to town and find Dick. Tell him to meet us at the Del Mar,
where Luck always puts up. Find out the number of Cullison's room and make
an appointment. I'll be on El Molino street all mo'ning off and on. When
you find out pass me without stopping, but tell me when we are to meet and
just where."
Curly gave Slats a quarter of an hour before sauntering back to town. As
he was passing the Silver Dollar saloon a voice called him. Stone and
Blackwell were standing in the door. Flandrau stopped.
Soapy's deep-set eyes blazed at him. "You didn't tell me it was Luck
Cullison went bail for you, Curly."
"You didn't ask me."
"So you and him are thick, are you?"
"I've met him once, if that's being thick. That time I shot him up."
"Funny. And then he went bail for you."
"Yes."
"Now I wonder why."
The eyes of the man had narrowed to red slits. His head had shot forward
on his shoulders as that of a snake does. Curly would have given a good
deal just then for the revolver lying on the bed of his room. For it was
plain trouble was in sight. The desperado had been drinking heavily and
was ready to do murder.
"That's easy to explain, Soapy. I shot him because I was driven to it.
He's too much of a man to bear a grudge for what I couldn't help."
"That's it, is it? Does that explain why he dug up good money to turn
loose a horse thief?"
"If I told you why, you would not understand."
"Let's hear you try."
"He did it because I was young, just as Sam is; and because he figured
that some day Sam might need a friend, too."
"You're a liar. He did it because you promised to sneak up to my ranch and
spy on us. That's why he did it."
With the last word his gun jumped into sight. That he was lashing himself
into a fury was plain. Presently his rage would end in a tragedy.
Given a chance, Curly would have run for it. But Soapy was a dead shot. Of
a sudden the anger in the boy boiled up over the fear. In two jumps he
covered the ground and jammed his face close to the cold rim of the blue
steel barrel.
"I'm not heeled. Shoot and be damned, you coward. And with my last breath
I'll tell you that you're a liar."
Flandrau had called his bluff, though he had not meant it as one. A dozen
men were in sight and were watching. They had heard the young man tell
Stone he was not armed. Public opinion would hold him to account if he
shot Curly down in cold blood. He hung there undecided, breathing fast,
his jaw clamped tightly.
The lad hammered home his defiance. "Drop that gun, you four-flusher, and
I'll whale you till you can't stand. Sabe? Call yourself a bad man, do
you? Time I'm through with you there will be one tame wolf crawling back
to Dead Cow with its tail between its legs."
The taunt diverted his mind, just as Curly had hoped it would. He thrust
the revolver back into the holster and reached for his foe.
Then everybody, hitherto paralyzed by the sight of a deadly weapon, woke
up and took a hand. They dragged the two men apart. Curly was thrust into
a barber shop on the other side of the street and Stone was dragged back
into the Silver Dollar.
In two minutes Flandrau had made himself famous, for he was a marked man.
The last words of the straggling desperado had been that he would shoot on
sight. Now half a dozen talked at once. Some advised Curly one thing, some
another. He must get out of town. He must apologize at once to Stone. He
must send a friend and explain.
The young man laughed grimly. "Explain nothing. I've done all the
explaining I'm going to. And I'll not leave town either. If Soapy wants me
he'll sure find me."
"Don't be foolish, kid. He has got four notches on that gun of his. And
he's a dead shot."
The tongues of those about him galloped. Soapy was one of these
Billy-the-Kid killers, the only one left from the old days. He could whang
away at a quarter with that sawed-off .45 of his and hit it every crack.
The sooner Curly understood that no boy would have a chance with him the
better it would be. So the talk ran.
"He's got you bluffed to a fare-you-well. You're tame enough to eat out of
his hand. Didn't Luck Cullison go into the hills and bring him down all
alone?" Flandrau demanded.
"Luck's another wonder. There ain't another man in Arizona could have done
it. Leastways no other but Bucky O'Connor."
But Curly was excited, pleased with himself because he had stood up to the
bogey man of the Southwest, and too full of strength to be afraid.
Maloney came into the barber shop and grinned at him.
"Hello, son!"
"Hello, Dick!"
"I hear you and Soapy are figuring on setting off some fireworks this
Fourth."
It did Curly good to see him standing there so easy and deliberate among
the excitable town people.
"Soapy is doing the talking."
"I heard him; happened to be at the Silver Dollar when they dragged him
in."
Maloney's eyebrows moved the least bit. His friend understood. Together
they passed out of the back door of the shop into an alley. The others
stood back and let them go. But their eyes did not leave Curly so long as
he was in sight. Until this thing was settled one way or the other the
young rustler would be one of the most important men in town. Citizens
would defer to him that had never noticed him before. He carried with him
a touch of the solemnity that is allowed only the dead or the dying.
Back to the hotel the two ran. When Curly buckled on his revolver and felt
it resting comfortably against his thigh he felt a good deal better.
"I've seen Slats Davis," Maloney explained. "He has gone to find Luck, who
is now at the Del Mar. At least he was an hour ago."
"Had any talk with Slats?"
"No. He said you'd do the talking."
"I'm to wait for him on El Molino street to learn where I'm to meet
Cullison."
"That won't do. You'd make too tempting a target. I'll meet him instead."
That suited Curly. He was not hunting trouble just now, even though he
would not run away from it. For he had serious business on hand that could
not take care of itself if Soapy should kill him.
Nearly an hour later Maloney appeared again.
"We're to go right over to the Del Mar. Second floor, room 217. You are to
go down El Molino to Main, then follow it to the hotel, keeping on the
right hand side of the street. Slats will happen along the other side of
the street and will keep abreast of you. Luck will walk with me behind
you. Unless I yell your name don't pay any attention to what is behind
you. Soon as we reach the hotel Slats will cross the road and go in by the
side door. You will follow him a few steps behind, and we'll bring up the
rear casually as if we hadn't a thing to do with you."
"You're taking a heap of pains, seems to me."
"Want to keep you from getting spoilt till September term of court opens.
Didn't I promise Bolt you would show up?"
They moved down the street as arranged. Every time a door opened in front
of him, every time a man came out of a store or a saloon, Curly was ready
for that lightning lift of the arm followed by a puff of smoke. The news
of his coming passed ahead of him, so that windows were crowded with
spectators. These were doomed to disappointment. Nothing happened. The
procession left behind it the Silver Dollar, the Last Chance, Chalkeye's
Place and Pete's Palace.
Reaching the hotel first, Davis disappeared according to program into the
side door. Carly followed, walked directly up the stairs, along the
corridor, and passed without knocking into Room 217.
A young woman was sitting there engaged with some fancy work. Slender and
straight, Kate Cullison rose and gave Curly her hand. For about two
heartbeats her fingers lay cuddled in his big fist. A strange stifling
emotion took his breath.
Then her arm fell to her side and she was speaking to him.
"Dad has gone to meet you. We've heard about what happened this morning."
"You mean what didn't happen. Beats all how far a little excitement goes
in this town," he answered, embarrassed.
Her father and Maloney entered the room. Cullison wrung his hand.
"Glad to see you, boy. You're in luck that convict did not shoot you up
while he had the chance. Saguache is sure buzzing this mo'ning with the
way you stood up to him. That little play of yours will help with the jury
in September."
Curly thanked him for going bail.
Luck fixed his steel-spoked eyes on him. "By what Dick tells me you've
more than squared that account."
Kate explained in her soft voice. "Dick told us why you went up to Dead
Cow creek."
"Sho! I hadn't a thing to do, so I just ran up there. Sam's in town with
me. We're rooming together."
"Oh, take me to him," Kate cried.
"Not just now, honey," her father said gently. "This young man came here
to tell us something. Or so I gathered from his friend Davis."
Flandrau told his story, or all of it that would bear telling before a
girl. He glossed over his account of the dissipation at the horse ranch,
but he told all he knew of Laura London and her interest in Sam. But it
was when he related what he had heard at Chalkeye's place that the
interest grew most tense. While he was going over the plot to destroy
young Cullison there was no sound in the room but his voice. Luck's eyes
burned like live coals. The color faded from the face of his daughter so
that her lips were gray as cigar ash. Yet she sat up straight and did not
flinch.
When he had finished the owner of the Circle C caught his hand. "You've
done fine, boy. Not a man in Arizona could have done it better."
Kate said nothing in words but her dark longlashed eyes rained thanks upon
him.
They talked the situation over from all angles. Always it simmered down to
one result. It was Soapy's first play. Until he moved they could not. They
had no legal evidence except the word of Curly. Nor did they know on what
night he had planned to pull off the hold-up. If they were to make a
complete gather of the outfit, with evidence enough to land them in the
penitentiary, it could only be after the hold-up.
Meanwhile there was nothing to do but wait and take what precautions they
could against being caught by surprise. One of these was to see that Sam
was never for an instant left unguarded either day or night. Another was
to ride to Tin Cup and look the ground over carefully. For the present
they could do no more than watch events, attracting no attention by any
whispering together in public.
Before the conference broke up Kate came in with her protest.
"That's all very well, but what about Mr. Flandrau? He can't stay in
Saguache with that man threatening to kill him on sight."
"Don't worry about me, Miss Kate;" and Curly looked at her and blushed.
Her father smiled grimly. "No, I wouldn't, Kate. He isn't going to be
troubled by that wolf just now."
"Doesn't stand to reason he'd spoil all his plans just to bump me off."
"But he might. He forgot all about his plans this morning. How do we know
he mightn't a second time?"
"Don't you worry, honey. I've got a card up my sleeve," Luck promised.
More
-
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Which end of the street I entered I had no idea. The cabins were all alike, and in my hurry I would have passed the cook's shack had it not been for the sight of a man standing in the door. That stalwart figure I would have known anywhere. "Dick!... Dick Martin Starts Something
Dick Martin slowly turned, leaned his back against the bar, and languidly regarded a group of Mexicans at the other end of the room. Singly, or in combinations of two or more, each was imparting all he knew, or thought he knew about the ghost of San... Discipline
A light step crossed the outer room, with something peculiar in its lightness, as if the heel were not touching the floor, with the effect of the padded fall of the feet of some great cat; there was both softness and the sense of weight. First the w... Discipline
He made the preparation for supper with such easy speed that everything seemed to be done by magic hands. When Joan's mother cooked supper there was always much rattling of the stove, then the building of the fire, a long preparation of food, and an... Don Carlos
Stewart took Nels, Monty, and Nick Steele aside out of earshot, and they evidently entered upon an earnest colloquy. Presently the other cowboys were called. They all talked more or less, but the deep voice of Stewart predominated over the others. T... Don Carlos's Vaqueros
Early the following morning Stewart, with a company of cowboys, departed for Don Carlos's rancho. As the day wore on without any report from him, Stillwell appeared to grow more at ease; and at nightfall he told Madeline that he guessed there was no... Don't Get Excited!
Lovers, it would seem, require much less material for a quarrel than persons in a less exalted frame of mind. Good Indian believed himself very much in love with his Christmas angel, and was very much inclined to let her know it, but at the same t... Don't You Like Me Any More?
Harshaw's rangers caught up with the militia an hour later. The valley men were big, tanned, outdoor fellows, whereas the militia company was composed of young lads from Colorado towns, most of them slight and not yet fully developed. The state tr... Don't You Touch Him!
Inside the big chuck tent of the construction camp the cook was busy forking steak to tin plates and ladling potatoes into deep dishes. "Git a move on you, Red Haid," he ordered. Bob Dillon distributed the food at intervals along the table whi... Dorman Plays Cupid
Dorman toiled up the steps, his straw hat perilously near to slipping down his back, his face like a large, red beet, and his hands vainly trying to reach around a baking-powder can which the Chinaman cook had given him. He marched straight to ... Dr Macbride Begs Pardon
Judge and Mrs. Henry, Molly Wood, and two strangers, a lady and a gentleman, were the party which had been driving in the large three-seated wagon. They had seemed a merry party. But as I came within hearing of their talk, it was a fragment of the... Dreams
Although the paper was a year old, Senor Johnson in due time received an answer from Kansas. A correspondence ensued. Senor Johnson enshrined above the big fireplace the photograph of a woman. Before this he used to stand for hours at a time slow... Dried Rose-leaves
The house that Prosper Gael had built for himself and for the woman whom Joan came to think of as the "tall child," stood in a canyon, a deep, secret fold of the hills, where a cliff stood behind it, and where the pine-needled ground descended bef... Dud Qualifies As Court Jester
It was still dark when Dud Hollister and Bob Dillon waded through the snow to the corral and saddled their horses. They jogged across the mesa through the white drifts. Bob's pony stumbled into a burrow, but pulled out again without damage. ... Eavesdropping
Out of the murmur of voices came one that Curly recognized as that of Soapy Stone, alias You Know Who. " ... then you'll take the 9:57, Sam...." After more whispering, "Yep, soon as you hear the first shot ... cover the passengers...." The... Echo Cliffs
WHEN thought came clearly to him he halted irresolute. For Mescal's sake he must not appear to have had any part in her headlong flight, or any knowledge of it. With stealthy footsteps he reached the cottonwoods, stole under the gloomy shade, a... Ed Austin Turns At Bay
Had it not been for her fears, Paloma Jones would have taken her visit to the Austin ranch as an unmixed enjoyment. To her Alaire had always been an ideally romantic figure. More than once, in her moments of melancholy, Paloma had envied Mrs. Aust... Edwards' Ultimatum
Edwards slid off the counter in Jackson's store and glowered at the pelting rain outside, perturbed and grouchy. The wounded man in the corner stirred and looked at him without interest and forthwith renewed his profane monologue, while the propriet... El Capitan
Stillwell's interest in the revolution across the Mexican line had manifestly increased with the news that Gene Stewart had achieved distinction with the rebel forces. Thereafter the old cattleman sent for El Paso and Douglas newspapers, wrote to ra... Eleanor Intervenes
The president's private car was side-tracked on the short spur at the eastern end of the Crow's Nest, and when Lidgerwood reached it he found the observation platform fully occupied. The night was no more than pleasantly cool, and the half-grown m... Em'ly
My personage was a hen, and she lived at the Sunk Creek Ranch. Judge Henry's ranch was notable for several luxuries. He had milk, for example. In those days his brother ranchmen had thousands of cattle very often, but not a drop of milk, save th... Emotions Are Tricky Things
A man's mind is a tricky thing—or, speaking more exactly, a man's emotions are tricky things. Love has come rushing to the beck of a tip-tilted chin, or the tone of a voice, or the droop of an eyelid. It has fled for cause as slight. Sometimes it run... En Passant
It was intentionally late in the day when we reached Dodge. My horse, which I was leading, gave considerable trouble while returning, compelling us to drive slow. The buyers repeatedly complained that dinner would be over at their hotel, but the det... Enter Bear-trap Collins
She had been aware of him from the moment of his spectacular entrance, though no slightest sign of interest manifested itself in her indolent, incurious eyes. Indeed, his abundant and picturesque area was so vivid that it would have been difficult n... Enter Simon Harley
The prospector's house in which they had found refuge was perched on the mountainside just at one edge of the draw. Rough as the girl had thought it, there was a more pretentious appearance to it than might have been expected. The cabin was of hewn ... Enter The Man
Some notable sight was drawing the passengers, both men and women, to the window; and therefore I rose and crossed the car to see what it was. I saw near the track an enclosure, and round it some laughing men, and inside it some whirling dust, and... Enter The Woman
"We are taking steps," said Mr. Taylor. "Bear Creek ain't going to be hasty about a schoolmarm." "Sure," assented the Virginian. "The children wouldn't want yu' to hurry." But Mr. Taylor was, as I have indicated, a serious family man. The pr... Equal Payment
They knew what it meant; even Joan had heard the cry of the lone wolf hunting in the lean time of winter, and of all things sad, all things lonely, all things demoniacal, the howl of a wolf stands alone. Lee Haines reached for his gun, little Joan s... Escape
Down, down I plunged, and the shock of the icy water seemed to petrify me. I should have gone straight to the bottom like a piece of lead but for the lasso. It tightened around my chest, and began to haul me up. I felt the air and the light, and o... Estrella
The honeymoon developed and the necessary adjustments took place. The latter Senor Johnson had not foreseen; and yet, when the necessity for them arose, he acknowledged them right and proper. "Course she don't want to ride over to Circle I with u... Evadna Goes Calling
"I have every reason to believe that your two missing jumpers took the train for Shoshone last night," Miss Georgie made answer to Good Indian's account of what had happened since he saw her. "Two furtive-eyed individuals answering your description ... Even Mushrooms Help
Bud wanted to have a little confidential talk with Marian. He hoped that she would be willing to tell him a great deal more than could be written on one side of a cigarette paper, and he was curious to hear what it was. On the other hand, he wanted ... Everyman's Share
"This switching-engine mystery opens up a field that I've been trying to get into for some little time, Mac," the superintendent began, after the half-hour had elapsed and the trainmaster had returned to the private office. "Sit down and we'll thr... Exit The King
They bedded that night under the great vault-roof where twinkle a million stars. There were three of the outlaw's men with him, and both Mcwilliams and his friend noticed that they slept a little apart from their chief. There were other indicatio... Exposed To The Sunlight
It was a month before Trevison went to town, again. Only once during that time did he see Rosalind Benham, for the Blakeleys had vacated, and goods and servants had arrived from the East and needed attention. Rosalind presided at the Bar B ranchho... Failure
Smaltz was a liar, as he said, but Bruce knew that he had told the truth regarding Banule's work. He confirmed the suspicions and fears that had been in Bruce's mind for months. Therefore, when he said quietly to Banule--"You'd better go up the hi... Faith And Unfaith
At Jane Withersteen's home the promise made to Mrs. Larkin to care for little Fay had begun to be fulfilled. Like a gleam of sunlight through the cottonwoods was the coming of the child to the gloomy house of Withersteen. The big, silent h... Fay
At the home of Jane Withersteen Little Fay was climbing Lassiter's knee. "Does oo love me?" she asked. Lassiter, who was as serious with Fay as he was gentle and loving, assured her in earnest and elaborate speech that he was ... Fire And Firecrackers
"What's that!" "The garage on fire!" "Say, look at the blaze!" Such were some of the cries, as the boys tumbled out of bed, one after another. A bright glare of fire was dancing over the walls of the rooms. "It's some brushwood behind th... Fire!
"It was not so much his wounds as his weakness," Dr. Graham was saying, later still that autumn night, "that led to my declaring Blakely unfit to take the field. He would have gone in spite of me, but for the general's order. He has gone now in sp... First Blood
After Ridgway's cavalier refusal to negotiate a peace treaty, Simon Harley and his body-guard walked back to the offices of the Consolidated, where they arrived at the same time as the news of the enemy's first blow since the declaration of renewed ... First Blood!
Occasionally Alice Mackenzie met Collins on the streets of Tucson. Once she saw him at the hotel where she was staying, deep in a discussion with her father of ways and means of running down the robbers of the Limited. He did not, however, make the ... First Principles
Judge Lindman shivered, though a merciless, blighting sun beat down on the great stone ledge that spread in front of the opening, smothering him with heat waves that eddied in and out, and though the interior of the low-ceilinged chamber pulsed wi... First Sight Of The Foe
Ray's gallant half hundred, as has been said, took the route for the north at break of day. Before them spread the open prairie, apparently level and unbroken for full five miles to the front and either flank, the distant slopes and ridges boundin... Flemister And Others
The jocosely spectacular arrest of Barton Rufford, with its appeal to the grim humor of the desert, was responsible for a brief lull in the storm of antagonism evoked by Lidgerwood's attempt to bring order out of the chaos reigning in his small king... Flesh
I Should you chance, in crossing a certain mountain pass in southern Catalonia, to find yourself poised above a little valley against the opposite side of which lies a monastery, look to the heights above it. Should you piece out from among the... Flight
There was a girl named Joan who followed Pierre Landis because he laid his hand upon her wrist, and there was another Joan who fled up the mountain-side at sight of him, as though the fire that had once touched her shoulder had burnt its way into ... Florence Grace Hallman Speaks Plainly
Andy Green rode thoughtfully up the trail from his cabin in One Man coulee, his hat tilted to the south to shield his face from the climbing sun, his eyes fixed absently upon the yellow soil of the hillside. Andy was facing a problem that concerned ... Following A Crooked Trail
Across Dry Valley a dust cloud had been moving for hours. It rolled into Saguache at the brisk heels of a bunch of horses just about the time the town was settling itself to supper. At the intersection of Main and La Junta streets the cloud was ch... For A Good Reason
The young ladies, following the custom of Arizona in summer, were riding by the light of the stars to avoid the heat of the day. They rode leisurely, chatting as their ponies paced side by side. For though they were cousins they were getting acquain...