Moya's Highwayman
: The HighgraderDinner at the Lodge was just finished. It was the one hour of the day
when anything like formality obtained. Each one dropped into breakfast
when he or she pleased. Luncheon rarely found them together. But Lady
Jim insisted that dinner should be a civilized function. Unless there
was to be night fishing the whole party usually adjourned from the
dining-room to the river-front porch, where such members of it as
desired
cared to get out rod and line. In an hour or so they would return to the
living-room for bridge.
Voices drifted up the trail and presently riders came into sight. They
halted among the trees, where one dismounted and came forward, his
trailing spurs jingling as he walked.
He bowed to his audience in general, and again and more particularly to
Lady Farquhar.
"Evening, ma'am. My name's Gill--sheriff of this county. I hate to
trouble you, but my men haven't had a bite to eat since early this
mo'ning. Think we could get a snack here? We'll not get to Gunnison till
most eleven."
Lady Farquhar rose. "I'll have the cook make something for you. How
many?"
"Six. Much obliged. Just anything that's handy."
Sheriff Gill beckoned to the men in the trees, who tied their horses and
presently came forward. All but one of them were heavily armed. That one
walked between a 30-30 and a 32 special carbine. It was observable that
the men with the rifles did not lift their eyes from him.
Moya felt her heart flutter like that of a caged bird. The blood ebbed
from her lips and she swayed in her seat. The prisoner was Jack Kilmeny.
Farquhar, sitting beside the girl, let his hand fall upon hers with a
comforting little pressure.
"Steady!" his voice murmured so that she alone heard.
Yet his own pulse stirred with the sheer melodrama of the scene. For as
the man came forward it chanced that the luminous moonbeams haloed like
a spotlight the blond head and splendid shoulders of the prisoner. Never
in his gusty lifetime had he looked more the vagabond enthroned. He was
coatless, and the strong muscles sloped beautifully from the brown
throat. A sardonic smile was on the devil-may-care face, and those who
saw that smile labeled it impudent, debonair, or whimsical, as fancy
pleased.
"By Jove, the fellow's a natural-born aristocrat," thought Farquhar, the
most democratic of men.
Jack Kilmeny nodded with cool equality toward Farquhar and the captain,
ignored Verinder, and smiled genially at India. For Moya his look had a
special meaning. It charged her with the duty of faith in him. Somehow
too it poured courage into her sinking heart.
"Afraid an engagement at Gunnison with Sheriff Gill won't let me stop
for any poker to-night," he told his host.
Farquhar was on the spot to meet him in the same spirit. "Verinder will
be glad of that. I fancy my pocketbook too will be fatter to-morrow
morning."
Biggs appeared to take the newly arrived party in charge. As they
started to follow him the prisoner came face to face with Joyce, who was
just coming out of the house. She looked at the young miner and at the
rifles, and her eyes dilated. Under the lowered lights of evening she
seemed to swim in a tide of beauty rich and mellow. The young man caught
his breath at the sheer pagan loveliness of her.
"What is it?" she asked in a low, sweet, tremulous voice.
His assurance fled. The bravado was sponged from his face instantly. He
stared at her in silence from fascinated eyes until he moved forward at
the spur of an insistent arm at his elbow.
India wondered how Lady Jim would dispose of the party. Jack Kilmeny
might be a criminal, but he happened to be their cousin. It would hardly
do to send him to the servants' quarters to eat. And where he ate the
sheriff and his posse would likewise have to dine.
The young woman need not have concerned herself. Lady Farquhar knew
enough of the West and its ways not to make a mistake. Such food as
could be prepared at short notice was served in the dining-room.
Having washed the dust of travel from himself, the sheriff returned to
the porch to apologize once more for having made so much trouble.
Farquhar diverted him from his regrets by asking him how they had made
the capture.
"I ain't claiming much credit for getting him," Gill admitted. "This
here was the way of it. A kid had been lost from Lander's ranch--strayed
away in the hills, y'understand. She was gone for forty-eight hours, and
everybody in the district was on the hunt for her. Up there the
mountains are full of pockets. Looked like they weren't going to git
her. Soon it would be too late, even if they did find her. Besides,
there are a heap of mountain lions up in that country. I tell you her
folks were plumb worried."
Moya, listening to every word as she leaned forward, spoke vividly. "And
Mr. Kilmeny found her."
The sheriff's surprised eyes turned to her. "That's right, ma'am. He
did. I dunno how you guessed it, but you've rung the bell. He found her
and brought her down to the ranch. It just happened we had drapped in
there ten minutes before. So we gathered him in handy as the pocket in
your shirt. Before he could move we had the crawl on him."
The sheriff retired to the dining-room, whence came presently snatches
of cheerful talk between the prisoner and his captors. In their company
Jack Kilmeny was frankly a Western frontiersman.
"You passed close to me Wednesday night at the fork of Rainbow above the
J K ranch. I was lying on a ledge close to the trail. You discussed
whether to try Deer Creek or follow Rainbow to its headwaters," the
miner said.
"That was sure one on us. Hadn't been for the kid, I don't reckon we
ever would have took you," a deputy confessed.
"What beats me is why you weren't a hundred miles away in Routt County
over in yore old stamping ground," another submitted.
"I had my reasons. I wasn't looking to be caught anyhow. Now you've got
me you want to watch me close," the prisoner advised.
"We're watching you. Don't make any mistake about that and try any fool
break," Gill answered, quite undisturbed.
"He's the coolest hand I ever heard," Farquhar said to the party on the
porch. "If I were a highwayman I'd like to have him for a partner."
"He's not a highwayman, I tell you," corrected Moya.
"I hope he isn't, but I'm afraid he is," India confided in a whisper.
"For whatever else he is, Jack Kilmeny is a man."
"Very much so," the captain nodded, between troubled puffs of his pipe.
"And I'm going to stand by him," announced his sister with a determined
toss of her pretty head.
Moya slipped an arm quickly around her waist. She was more grateful for
this support than she could say. It meant that India at least had
definitely accepted the American as a relative with the obligation that
implied. Both girls waited for Ned Kilmeny to declare himself, for,
after all, he was the head of the family. He smoked in silence for a
minute, considering the facts in his stolid deliberate fashion.
The excitement of the girl he loved showed itself in the dusky eyes
sparkling beneath the soft mass of blue-black hair, in the glow of
underlying blood that swept into her cheeks. She hoped--oh, how she
hoped!--that the officer would stand by his cousin. In her heart she
knew that if he did not--no matter how right his choice might be in
principle--she never would like him so well again. He was a man who
carried in his face and in his bearing the note of fineness, of personal
distinction, but if he were to prove a formalist at heart, if he were
going to stickle for an assurance of his kinsman's innocence before he
came to the prisoner's aid, Moya would have no further use for him.
When the sheriff presently came out Captain Kilmeny asked him if he
might have a word with the prisoner.
"Sure. Anything you want to say to him."
The English officer drew his cousin aside and with some embarrassment
tendered to his cousin the use of his purse in the event it might be
needed for the defense.
Jack looked at him steadily with hard unflinching eyes. "Why are you
offering this, captain?"
"I don't quite take you."
"I mean, what's your reason? Don't like it to get out that you have a
cousin in the pen, is that it? Anxious to avoid a family scandal?" he
asked, almost with a sneer.
The captain flushed, but before he could answer India flamed out. "You
might have the decency to be ashamed of that, Jack Kilmeny."
Her cousin looked at the girl gravely, then back at her lean,
clean-faced brother. "I am. Beg your pardon, captain. As for your offer,
I would accept it if there were any need. But there isn't. The charges
against me will fall flat."
"Deuced glad to hear it. Miss Dwight has just been telling us it would
be all right."
India looked straight at Jack out of the steel-blue eyes that were so
like his own. "I wasn't so sure of it myself, but Moya was. Nothing
could shake her. She's a good friend."
"I had it sized up about that way," the miner replied. "But I've a
notion Miss Kilmeny will stand the acid too. Anyhow, I'm much obliged to
her."
The prisoner shook hands with both of his cousins, lifted a
broad-brimmed gray felt hat from the rack, and delivered himself to the
sheriff.
"All right, Gill."
India gave a little exclamation and moved toward the hatrack. Her hand
fell upon a second hat, similar in appearance to the first, but much
more worn and dust-stained. She opened her lips to speak and closed them
without saying a word. For her eyes had met those of Moya and read there
a warning.
Jack Kilmeny nodded a brisk farewell to Farquhar, smiled at Miss Dwight,
and moved with his guards to the clump of trees where the horses had
been left. His eyes had looked for Joyce, but she was not at that moment
in sight.
The last faint beat of the retreating hoofs died away. An awkward
constraint settled upon the party left at the Lodge. It was impossible
to discuss the situation openly, yet it was embarrassing to ignore the
subject in the thoughts of all. After a decent interval they began to
drop away, one by one, from the group. India followed Moya, and found
that young woman in her room.
"What are you hiding?" Miss Kilmeny asked quickly.
Moya produced from her hatbox a gray sombrero and put it on the table.
"I didn't know it was you--thought it might be Lady Jim," she explained.
"Why wasn't I to tell Jack Kilmeny that he had taken Ned's hat by
mistake?" India wanted to know.
"Because it wasn't by mistake."
"Not by mistake! What would he want with another man's hat?"
"I'm not sure about that. Perhaps he didn't want his own. You see, I
had started myself to tell him about the mistake, but his eyes asked me
plain as words not to speak."
"But why--why?" India frowned at the hat, her active brain busy. "It
would be absurd for him to want Ned's hat. He must have had some reason,
though."
"Don't they search prisoners before they lock them up?" Moya asked
abruptly.
India shook her head. "I don't know. Do they?"
"Of course they do." Moya's eyes began to shine. "Now suppose there is
something about that hat he didn't want them to see."
"How do you mean?" India picked up the hat and turned it round slowly.
"It's worn and a bit disreputable, but he wouldn't care for that."
Moya found a pair of scissors in her work basket. With these she ripped
off the outer ribbon. This told her nothing. Next she examined the
inside. Under the sweat pad was a folded slip of paper. She waved it in
excitement.
"What did I tell you?"
"But--if he is innocent--what could there be he wanted to hide?"
"I don't know." Moya unfolded the paper enough to see that there was
writing in it. "Do you think we ought to read this?"
"I don't know," India repeated in her turn. "Perhaps it may be a message
to you."
Moya's face lighted. "Of course that's it. He wanted to tell us
something when the rest were not there, so he used this method."
Three cramped lines were penciled on the torn fragment of paper.
At wharf above camp.
Twelve steps below big rock.
In gunny sack three yards from shore.
Two pairs of puzzled eyes looked into each other.
"What can it mean?" India asked.
"I don't know, unless----"
"Unless what?"
"Can it be a direction for finding something?"
"But what? And why should it be hidden in his hat? Besides, he would
have no chance to put it in there after he was captured."
"Then perhaps it isn't a message to me at all."
"That's what we must find out. 'At wharf above camp.' That probably
means his fishing camp."
"What are you going to do, India?"
"I'm going to get Ned to help me find that gunny sack."
Moya found herself trembling. She did not know why. It was not doubt of
her reckless friend, but none the less she was in a panic.
"Do you think we'd better?"
Miss Kilmeny looked at her in surprise. In general nobody came to
decision more quickly than Moya.
"Of course. How else can we tell whether it is something he wants us to
do for him?"
"When shall we look?"
"The sooner the better--to-night," answered the other girl immediately.
"The wharf above the camp. It's not a quarter of an hour from here. I'll
not sleep till I know what he means."
"Lady Jim," Moya reminded her.
"She needn't know. She can't object if we take Ned and go fishing for an
hour."
Moya consulted her watch. "They'll be gathering for bridge pretty soon.
Let's go now. We can be back in time for supper."
"Get into your fishing togs. I'll get Ned and we'll meet you on the west
porch in a quarter of an hour."
Within the appointed time the three slipped away down the river bank
trail as silently as conspirators. The captain was rather inclined to
pooh-pooh the whole thing, but he was not at all sorry to share an
adventure that brought him into a closer relationship with Moya Dwight.
"Must be this wharf," India said presently, as a bulky shadow loomed out
of the darkness.
"Shouldn't wonder. Here's a big rock just below it. Didn't the paper say
something about a rock?" asked the captain.
"Twelve steps below big rock, it says."
The soldier paced off the distance. "What now?"
"Three yards from the shore," called his sister. "There should be a
gunny sack, whatever that is."
"Afraid he's spoofing us," Kilmeny said with a laugh as he moved out in
his waders against the current. "Here I am. What's the next direction?"
India giggled. She was Irish enough to get the humorous side of things
and could not help being frivolous even when she was greatly interested.
"Now you look over your left shoulder at the moon and wish."
Her brother's high voice cut in. "I say. My foot's kicking something.
Wait a jiff."
He braced his feet, dived suddenly down with one arm till his face
touched the water, and grappled with his fingers for a hold on something
lying between two rocks at the bottom. When he straightened again it was
with an effort. He did not attempt to raise his burden from the stream,
but waded ashore with it. Using both hands, he dragged his find to land.
"It's a sack," India cried excitedly.
The captain's eyes met those of Moya. His face was grave, but she was
white to the lips. Both of them felt sure of what they would find in the
sack.
"Open it," she told him tensely.
With his pocketknife Kilmeny cut the string that tied the sack. He drew
out a heavy valise so full that it gaped. Silver and gold coins, as well
as bills, filled it to the mouth. They had found the money stolen from
the treasurer of the Gunnison County Fair association.
All three of them were sick at heart. Jack Kilmeny then was guilty,
after all. The message in the hat had not been intended for them, but
had been merely a note of identification of the spot. He had taken the
captain's hat merely because he did not want the officers to find the
directions under the sweat pad. He had in essence lied to Moya and to
the cousins who had offered to stand shoulder to shoulder with him in
his trouble.
To Moya the next hour was a nightmare. They returned to the Lodge and
slipped into the house by way of a French window opening upon the
deserted north porch. Kilmeny hid the sack of treasure in his trunk and
divested himself of his fishing clothes. Presently he joined Moya and
his sister on the front porch, where shortly they were discovered by
Verinder in search of a fourth at bridge.
India, knowing how greatly her friend was shaken, volunteered to fill
the table and maneuvered Verinder back into the living-room with her.
The millionaire had vaguely the sense of a conspiracy against him and
resented it, even though of late he had been veering from Moya to Joyce
in his attentions.
Captain Kilmeny, left alone with the girl of his dreams, wisely said
nothing. He was himself indignant, his family pride stung to the quick.
His cousin was not only a thief but a liar. Born of a race of soldiers,
with the traditions of family and of the army back of him for
generations, the latter offense was the greater of the two. He
understood something of how Miss Dwight felt. She had let herself become
greatly interested in this vagabond cousin of his. Openly she had
championed his cause. Now her feelings were wounded, her pride hurt, and
her anger ablaze. The fellow's offense against her had been flagrant.
So far the captain had guessed correctly. Moya writhed like a bruised
woodland creature. Her friendship had been abused. She had been as
credulous as a simple country wench, while he no doubt had been laughing
up his sleeve at her all the time. No longer had she any doubt as to his
guilt. She visualized the hurried run for safety to camp, the swift
disposal of the treasure in the river because of the close pursuit. When
she lived over again that scene on Sunbeam the girl flogged her soul
like a penitent. As one grinds defiantly on an ulcerated tooth, so she
crushed her pride and dragged it in the dust.
But the wound was deeper even than this. To give herself in friendship
impulsively was her temperament, though not many were judged worthy of
such giving. This blue-eyed scamp had won her as no man ever had before.
She had seen him through a glamour. Now his character stood stripped in
its meanness. Her sweet trust was crushed. In the reaction that was upon
her she craved rest and safety. No longer had she any confidence in her
own judgment. Against the advice of her friends she had been wayward and
headstrong, so sure that she knew best.
Kilmeny, sitting beside her in the deep shadows cast by the wild
cucumber vines, became aware that she was weeping silently. His heart
bled for her. He had known her always buoyant, gallant as Galahad,
vibrant of joy to the finger tips.
"I say, don't," he pleaded. It was impossible for him to voice
adequately his feelings. Greatly daring, he let an arm rest across the
shoulders that were being racked by suppressed pianissimo sobs.
"You mustn't, you know. I can't stand it." And, again, "Please don't."
She gulped down the lump in her throat and turned upon him filmy eyes,
the lashes of which were tangled with tears. This fine strong soldier
represented the haven of rest toward which she was being driven. Had she
never met his American cousin she knew that she would probably have
accepted him in the end. The swift impulse swept her to anchor her craft
for life in a safe harbor. She had tried rebellion, and that had left
her spent and beaten. What she wanted now was safety, a rest from the
turmoil of emotion.
"Do you still ... want me?" she asked lifelessly.
He could not on the instant take her meaning. Then, "Want you!" he
cried in a low voice no words could have expressed fully. "Want you? Oh,
my dear!"
"You know I don't love you ... not in one way," she told him naively.
"Lady Jim says that will come. I don't know. Perhaps you won't want to
take the risk."
She could see the desire of her leap to his honest eyes. "By God, I'll
take my chance," he cried.
"You'll give me all the time I want--not push me too hard?"
"You shall set your own time."
Her dusky head was leaning wearily against the back of a wicker porch
chair. From sheer fatigue her eyes fluttered shut. Her lover could see
the round bird-like throat swell as she swallowed the lump that had
gathered. Pity for her and love of her rose in him like a flood. He
would have given anything to wrap her in his arms and fight away her
troubles. But he knew it would be months before he could win the right
to do this.
"Would you mind if ... if we didn't tell the others just yet?"
"It shall be as you say, Moya, dear."
She nodded languid thanks. "You're good. I ... I think I'll go to bed.
I'm so tired."
He kissed the tips of her fingers and she vanished round the corner of
the house.
Kilmeny sat down again and looked for long across the moonlit river.
His sweetheart had promised to marry him, but in how strange a fashion.
He was to be her husband some day, but he was not yet her lover by a
good deal. His imagination fitted another man to that role, and there
rose before him the strong brown face of his cousin with its mocking
eyes and devil-may-care smile.
His promised wife! He had despaired of winning her, and she had crept to
him as a hurt child does to its mother. There was no exultation in his
heart. Poor child! How sad and tired her eyes had been.
More
-
Love Words For Annie
In Tijeras Arroyo the moon made black shadows where stood the tiny knolls here and there, marking frequently the windings of dry washes where bushes grew in ragged patches and where tall weeds of mid-May tangled in the wind. The roundup tents of the... Lovin Child Strikes It Rich
It was only the next day that Bud was the means of helping Lovin Child find a fortune for himself; which eased Bud's mind considerably, and balanced better his half of the responsibility. Cutting out the dramatic frills, then, this is what happened to ... Lovin Child Wriggles In
On the fourth day Bud's conscience pricked him into making a sort of apology to Cash, under the guise of speaking to Lovin Child, for still keeping the baby in camp. "I've got a blame good notion to pack you to town to-day, Boy, and try and find out... Luck Meets An Old Acquaintance
Cullison and his friends proceeded down Papago street to the old plaza where their hotel was located. Their transit was an interrupted one, for these four cattlemen were among the best known in the Southwest. All along the route they scattered nod... Luck's Play
A young man who had just landed in New York from one of the big, adventurous transatlantic liners hailed a taxicab and was quickly drawn away into the glitter and gayety of a bright winter morning. He sat forward eagerly, looking at everything wit... Luis Longorio
"You probably know why I wished to see you," Alaire began. Longorio shook his head in vague denial. "It is regarding my ranch, La Feria." Seeing that the name conveyed nothing, she explained, "I am told that your army confiscated my cattle." ... Luis Rojas Talks
Three days of hiding by day in sequestered little groves or deep, hidden canons, with only Luis Rojas to bear her company--Luis Rojas whom she did not trust and therefore watched always from under her long straight lashes, with oblique glances when ... Lynch Scores
How long she stood there staring fearfully at the empty window of the shed, Mary Thorne had no idea. She seemed frozen and incapable of movement. But at last, with a shiver, she came to herself, and bending out, drew in the heavy wooden, shutters ... M'cay's Recruit
The Texan, after circling the town of Midway, rode in again. It was not his way to leave a job unfinished, with only a threat behind. The cigarette-paper note had aroused his curiosity to a fever heat. He read it by the light of the moon. It con... Man-hunting
As Vic Gregg left the house, the new moon peered at him over a black mountain-top, a sickle of white with a half imaginary line rounding the rest of the circle, and to the shaken mind of Vic it seemed as if a ghostly spectator had come out to watch ... Many Barren Months And Miles
"Well, here come them darn burros, Cash. Cora's colt ain't with 'em though. Poor little devils—say, Cash, they look like hard sleddin', and that's a fact. I'll tell the world they've got about as much pep as a flat tire." "Maybe we better grain 'e... Marie Takes A Desperate Chance
Domestic wrecks may be a subject taboo in polite conversation, but Joe De Barr was not excessively polite, and he had, moreover, a very likely hope that Marie would yet choose to regard him with more favor than she had shown in the past. He did not cha... Marie's Side Of It
We all realize keenly, one time or another, the abject poverty of language. To attempt putting some emotions into words is like trying to play Ave Maria on a toy piano. There are heights and depths utterly beyond the limitation of instrument and speech... Marshaling The Forces
Both herds had watered in the Smoky during the afternoon. The stranger's cattle were not compelled to go down to the crossing, but found an easy passage several miles above the regular ford. After leaving the river, both herds were grazed out during... Meade Burrell Finds A Path In The Moonlight
"No Creek" Lee had come into his own at last, and was a hero, for the story of his long ill-luck was common gossip now, and men praised him for his courage. He had never been praised for anything before and was uncertain just how to take it. "S... Melissy Entertains
The notes of Schumann's "Trauemerei" died away. Melissy glanced over her music, and presently ran lightly into Chopin's "Valse Au Petit Chien." She was, after all, only a girl; and there were moments when she forgot to remember that she was wedded... Mescal
SUMMER gleams of golden sunshine swam under the glistening red walls of the oasis. Shadows from white clouds, like sails on a deep-blue sea, darkened the broad fields of alfalfa. Circling columns of smoke were wafted far above the cottonwoods and ... Midnight Prowlers
Came midnight and moonlight together, and with them came also Good Indian riding somewhat sullenly down the trail to the ranch. Sullen because of Evadna's attitude, which seemed to him permanently antagonistic, and for very slight cause, and which... Miggles
We were eight, including the driver. We had not spoken during the passage of the last six miles, since the jolting of the heavy vehicle over the roughening road had spoiled the Judge's last poetical quotation. The tall man beside the Judge was asl... Millions!
Would the car never come--would it never come! Helen walked once more to the corner from the shelter of a building in one of the outlying mill districts where an assignment had taken her. The day was bitterly cold with a wind blowing which went ... Mingling With The Exodus
By noon the herd had grazed out five miles on its way. The boys were so anxious to get off that on my return the camp was deserted with the exception of the cook and the horse-wrangler, none even returning for dinner. Before leaving I had lunched at... Miss Conroy Refuses Shelter
The storm lifted suddenly, as storms have a way of doing, and a low, squat ranch-house stood dimly revealed against the bleak expanse of wind-tortured prairie. Rowdy gave an exultant little whoop and made for the gate, leaned and swung it open and r... Miss Darling Arrives
Miss Messiter clung to civilization enough, at least, to prefer that her chambermaid should be a woman rather than a Chinese. It did not suit her preconceived idea of the proper thing that Lee Ming should sweep floors, dust bric-a-brac, and make the... Miss Georgie Also Makes A Call
Saunders, limp and apathetic and colorless, shuffled over to the station with a wheelbarrow which had a decrepit wheel, that left an undulating imprint of its drunken progress in the dust as it went. He loaded the boxes of freight with the abused ai... Miss Georgie Howard Operator
"Where is the delightful Mr. Good Indian off to?" Evadna stopped drumming upon the gatepost and turned toward the person she heard coming up behind her, who happened to be Gene. He stopped to light a match upon the gate and put his cigarette to work... Mistress And Maid
Now that it was safely concluded, Helen thought the adventure almost worthwhile for the spontaneous expressions of good will it had drawn forth from her adherents. Mrs. Winslow and Nora had taken her to their arms and wept and laughed over her in tu... Mistress Mary - Quite Contrary
But Stratton's mind was too full of the amazing information he had gleaned from the old storekeeper to leave much room for minor reflections. He had been stunned at first--so completely floored that anyone save the garrulous old man intent on maki... Mliss
CHAPTER I Just where the Sierra Nevada begins to subside in gentler undulations, and the rivers grow less rapid and yellow, on the side of a great red mountain, stands "Smith's Pocket." Seen from the red road at sunset, in the red light and the... Moccasin Tracks
When Mr. Blakely left the post that afternoon he went afoot. When he returned, just after the sounding of retreat, he came in saddle. Purposely he avoided the road that led in front of the long line of officers' quarters and chose instead the wate... Mollie Takes Charge
Bear Cat was a cow-town, still in its frankest, most exuberant youth. Big cattle outfits had settled on the river and ran stock almost to the Utah line. Every night the saloons and gambling-houses were filled with punchers from the Diamond K, the ... Monk Bethune
"When the devil was sick, the devil a monk would be, When the devil got well, the devil a monk was he." Pippin Larue chanted tipsily, as he strummed softly the strings of a muffled banjo. And Raoul Bethune, with the flush of liquor upon ... More Sheep
The next week was a time of harassment for the Flying U; a week filled to overflowing with petty irritations, traceable, directly or indirectly, to their new neighbors, the Dot sheepmen. The band in charge of the bug-chaser and that other unlovable ... More Strange Discoveries
But Frayne was far from done with excitement for the day. For a while all eyes seemed centred on the chase, now scattered miles toward the east, and, save for two of the number left behind, blown, spent and hopelessly out of the race, soon lost to... Morena's Wife
Betty Morena was sitting in a rustic chair before an open fire, smoking a cigarette. She was a short woman, so slenderly, even narrowly built, as to appear overgrown, and she was a mature woman so immaturely shaped and featured as to appear hardly... Mother Emeritus
THE Louders lived on the second floor, at the head of the stairs, in the Lossing Building. There is a restaurant to the right; and a new doctor, every six months, who is every kind of a healer except "regular," keeps the permanent boarders in gossip... Moving The Herd
Four thousand weary cattle crawled up the long ridge which divides Chin Coulee from Quitter Creek. Pink, riding point, opposite the Silent One, twisted round in his saddle and looked back at the slow-moving river of horns and backs veiled in a gray ... Moya's Highwayman
Dinner at the Lodge was just finished. It was the one hour of the day when anything like formality obtained. Each one dropped into breakfast when he or she pleased. Luncheon rarely found them together. But Lady Jim insisted that dinner should be a... Mr Boggs Is Disgusted
The herd gained twelve miles by dark and would pass through the northern fence by noon of the next day, for Cook's axe and monkey wrench had been put to good use. For quite a distance there was no fence: about a mile of barb wire had been pulled loo... Mr Cassidy Cogitates
While Hopalong tried to find his horse, Ben Ferris pushed forward, circling steadily to the east and away from the direction of Hoyt's corners, which was as much a menace to his health and happiness as the town of Grant, twenty miles to his rear. If... Mr Cassidy Meets A Woman
The work of separating the cattle into herds of the different brands was not a big contract, and with so many men it took but a comparatively short time, and in two days all signs of the rustlers had faded. It was then that good news went the rou... Mr Holden Drops In
Mr. Cassidy dismounted and viewed the building with open disgust, walking around it to see what held it up, and when he finally realized that it was self-supporting his astonishment was profound. Undoubtedly there were shacks in the United States in... Mr Townsend Marshal
Mr. Cassidy went to the ranch and lived like a lord until shame drove him away. He had no business to live on cake and pie and wonderful dishes that Mrs. Ferris and her sister literally forced on him, and let Buck's mission wait on his convenience. ... Mr Trendley Assumes Added Importance
That the rustlers were working under a well organized system was evident. That they were directed by a master of the game was ceaselessly beaten into the consciousness of the Association by the diversity, dash and success of their raids. No one, ... Mr Verinder Complains
Jack Kilmeny followed the pathway which wound through the woods along the bank of the river. Occasionally he pushed through a thick growth of young willows or ducked beneath the top strand of a neglected wire fence. Beyond the trees lay a clear... Mr Verinder Is Treated To A Surprise
The morning after the seizing of the ore Verinder came to breakfast in a mood so jubilant that he could not long keep to himself the cause of his exultation. Kilmeny and Farquhar were away on a hunting trip, and none of the ladies except Moya was ... Mrs Lansell's Lecture
When the excitement had somewhat abated, and Miss Hayes was convinced that her idol was really there, safe, and with his usual healthy appetite, and when a messenger had been started out to recall the searchers, Dorman was placed upon a chair befo... Mrs Ripley's Trip
"And in winter the winds sweep the snows across it." Thn night was in windy November, and the blast, threatening rain, roared around the poor little shanty of "Uncle Ripley," set like a chicken trap on the vast Iowa prairie. Uncle Ethan was mendin... Murder
"How do you think you'd like to live in Crawling Water?" Wade looked whimsically at Helen, as she picked her way with the grace of a kitten through the dust of the main street. Carefully though she walked, her shoes and the bottom of her skirt w... Napoleon Shave-tail
Augustus Albumblatt, young and new and sleek with the latest book-knowledge of war, reported to his first troop commander at Fort Brown. The ladies had watched for him, because he would increase the number of men, the officers because he would les... Naza! Naza! Naza!
It was a waiting day at Fort Chippewayan. The lonesome, far-northern Hudson's Bay Trading Post seldom saw such life. Tepees dotted the banks of the Slave River and lines of blanketed Indians paraded its shores. Near the boat landing a group of chief... Nemesis
On the second day following Flemister's visit to Angels, Lidgerwood was called again to Red Butte to another conference with the mine-owners. On his return, early in the afternoon, his special was slowed and stopped at a point a few miles east of ... Nerve
With a deep sigh, Buck lifted his face from the water and regarded her gratefully. "That just about saved my life," he murmured. Mary Thorne carefully set down the improvised water-bucket, its contents much depleted, and taking out her handke... Nerves And Intuition
"Mr. Gael," said Joan standing before him at the breakfast-table, "I'm a-goin' to work." She was pale, gaunt, and imperturbable. He gave her a quick look, one that turned to amusement, for Joan was really as appealing to his humor as a child. S... Night Fishing
Jack Kilmeny crossed the river by the rope ferry and followed the trail that ran up. He took the water above the Narrows, about a mile and a half from camp. The mosquitoes were pretty bad near the willows along the shore, but as he got out farther... Night Prowling At Frayne
In the full of the September moon the war-bands of the Sioux had defied agents and peace chiefs, commissioners and soldiers, and started their wild campaign in northern Wyoming. In the full of the October moon the big chief of the whites had swept... No Dream To Wake From
For a long while after she had left him, he lay still, stretched in his chair. His eyes were fixed steadily upon the open window and the sunshine outside. There he watched the movement of the leaves upon the green cottonwoods. What had she said to... North Of Fifty-three
Big George was drinking, and the activities of the little Arctic mining camp were paralysed. Events invariably ceased their progress and marked time when George became excessive, and now nothing of public consequence stirred except the quicksilver,... Not Even Powder-burnt
Houck stood over the prostrate man, the smoking revolver in his hand, on his lips a cruel twist and in his throat a wolfish snarl. June, watching him with eyes held in a fascination of terror, felt that at any moment he might begin pumping shots... Not Guilty Guilty
Ridgway's answer to the latest move of Simon Harley was to put him on trial for his life to answer the charge of having plotted and instigated the death of Vance Edwards. Not without reason, the defense had asked for a change of venue, alleging the ... Notes By Flood And Field
PART I--IN THE FIELD It was near the close of an October day that I began to be disagreeably conscious of the Sacramento Valley. I had been riding since sunrise, and my course through the depressing monotony of the long level landscape affected... Now Dang It Ride!
Indians are Indians, though they wear the green sweater and overalls of civilization and set upon their black hair the hat made famous by John B. Stetson. You may meet them in town and think them tamed to stupidity. You may travel out upon their res... Oak Spring
Moze and Don and Sounder straggled into camp next morning, hungry, footsore and scarred; and as they limped in, Jones met them with characteristic speech: "Well, you decided to come in when you got hungry and tired? Never thought of how you fooled m... Off His Range
Bruce stood before the blackboard in the Bartlesville station studying the schedule. A train went west at 11.45. The first train went east at 11.10. He hesitated a moment, then the expression of uncertainty upon his face hardened into decision. He... Old Acquaintances
"You wanted to see me?" The voice had the soft, slow intonation of the South, and it held some quality that haunted the memory. Or so Melissy thought afterward, but that may have been because of its owner's appeal to sympathy. "If you are Mis... Old Friends
Into the depths of her scorching self-contempt came his blithe "Good-morning, neighbor." Her heart leaped, but before she looked around Moya made sure no tales could be read in her face. Her eyes met his with quiet scorn. "I was wondering if ... Old Jezebel On The Rampage
"Old Jezebel is a woman. For years she keeps her appointed trail until the accumulation of her strength breaks all bounds and she sweeps sand and men before her." MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. ... Old Tom
At daybreak our leader routed us out. The frost mantled the ground so heavily that it looked like snow, and the rare atmosphere bit like the breath of winter. The forest stood solemn and gray; the canyon lay wrapped in vapory slumber. Hot biscuit... Old Ways And New
Progress is like the insidious change from youth to old age, except that progress does not mean decay. The change that is almost imperceptible and yet inexorable is much the same, however. You will see a community apparently changeless as the years ... Old Wives Tales
Down the winding trail of Snake River bluff straggled a blanketed half dozen of old Wolfbelly's tribe, the braves stalking moodily in front and kicking up a gray cloud of dust which enveloped the squaws behind them but could not choke to silence the... Oldring's Knell
Some forty hours or more later Venters created a commotion in Cottonwoods by riding down the main street on Black Star and leading Bells and Night. He had come upon Bells grazing near the body of a dead rustler, the only incident of his qu... Oleson
"Say, ain't that Andy and Mig following along behind?" Cal asked after a minute of watching the approach. "Sure, it is. Now what--" "They're drivin' 'em, by cripes!" Big Medicine, under the stress of the moment, returned to his usual bellowing ton... On A Strange Range
Two tired but happy punchers rode into the coast town and dismounted in front of the best hotel. Putting up their horses as quickly as possible they made arrangements for sleeping quarters and then hastened out to attend to business. Buck had been k...