Old Wives Tales
: Good IndianDown 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 their shrill chatter; for old Hagar was
there, and Viney, and the incident of the dog was fresh in their minds
and tickling their tongues.
The Hart boys were asse
three-year-old for the pure fun of it. Wally caught sight of the
approaching blotch of color, and yelled a wordless greeting; him had
old Hagar carried lovingly upon her broad shoulders with her own papoose
when he was no longer than her arm; and she knew his voice even at that
distance, and grinned--grinned and hid her joy in a fold of her dingy
red blanket.
"Looks like old Wolfbelly's back," Clark observed needlessly. "Donny, if
they don't go to the house right away, you go and tell mum they're here.
Chances are the whole bunch'll hang around till supper."
"Say!" Gene giggled with fourteen-year-old irrepressibility. "Does
anybody know where Vadnie is? If we could spring 'em on her and make her
believe they're on the warpath--say, I'll gamble she'd run clear to the
Malad!"
"I told her, cross my heart, this morning that the Injuns are peaceful
now. I said Good Injun was the only one that's dangerous--oh, I sure did
throw a good stiff load, all right!" Clark grinned at the memory. "I've
got to see Grant first, when he gets back, and put him wise to the rep
he's got. Vad didn't hardly swallow it. She said: 'Why, Cousin Clark!
Aunt Phoebe says he's perfectly lovely!"' Clark mimicked the girl's
voice with relish.
"Aw--there's a lot of squaws tagging along behind!" Donny complained
disgustedly from his post of observation on the fence. "They'll go to
the house first thing to gabble--there's old Hagar waddling along like
a duck. You can't make that warpath business stick, Clark--not with all
them squaws."
"Well, say, you sneak up and hide somewhere till yuh see if Vadnie's
anywhere around. If they get settled down talking to mum, they're
good for an hour--she's churning, Don--you hide in the rocks by the
milk-house till they get settled. And I'll see if--Git! Pikeway, while
they're behind the stacks!"
Donny climbed down and scurried through the sand to the house as if his
very life depended upon reaching it unseen. The group of Indians came
up, huddled at the corral, and peered through the stout rails.
"How! How!" chorused the boys, and left the horse for a moment while
they shook hands ceremoniously with the three bucks. Three Indians,
Clark decided regretfully, would make a tame showing on the warpath,
however much they might lend themselves to the spirit of the joke. He
did not quite know how he was going to manage it, but he was hopeful
still. It was unthinkable that real live Indians should be permitted to
come and go upon the ranch without giving Evadna Ramsey, straight from
New Jersey, the scare of her life.
The three bucks, grunting monosyllabic greetings' climbed, in all the
dignity of their blankets, to the top rail of the corral, and roosted
there to watch the horse-breaking; and for the present Clark held his
peace.
The squaws hovered there for a moment longer, peeping through the rails.
Then Hagar--she of much flesh and more temper--grunted a word or two,
and they turned and plodded on to where the house stood hidden away
in its nest of cool green. For a space they stood outside the fence,
peering warily into the shade, instinctively cautious in their manner of
approaching a strange place, and detained also by the Indian etiquette
which demands that one wait until invited to enter a strange camp.
After a period of waiting which seemed to old Hagar sufficient, she
pulled her blanket tight across her broad hips, waddled to the
gate, pulled it open with self-conscious assurance, and led the way
soft-footedly around the house to where certain faint sounds betrayed
the presence of Phoebe Hart in her stone milk-house.
At the top of the short flight of wide stone steps they stopped and
huddled silently, until the black shadow of them warned Phoebe of their
presence. She had lived too long in the West to seem startled when she
suddenly discovered herself watched by three pair of beady black eyes,
so she merely nodded, and laid down her butter-ladle to shake hands all
around.
"How, Hagar? How, Viney? How, Lucy? Heap glad to see you. Bueno
buttermilk--mebbyso you drinkum?"
However diffident they might be when it came to announcing their
arrival, their bashfulness did not extend to accepting offers of food
or drink. Three brown hands were eagerly outstretched--though it was the
hand of Hagar which grasped first the big tin cup. They not only
drank, they guzzled, and afterward drew a fold of blanket across their
milk-white lips, and grinned in pure animal satisfaction.
"Bueno. He-e-ap bueno!" they chorused appreciatively, and squatted at
the top of the stone steps, watching Phoebe manipulate the great ball of
yellow butter in its wooden bowl.
After a brief silence, Hagar shook the tangle of unkempt, black hair
away from her moonlike face, and began talking in a soft monotone, her
voice now and then rising to a shrill singsong.
"Mebbyso Tom, mebbyso Sharlie, mebbyso Sleeping Turtle all time come
along," she announced. "Stop all time corral, talk yo' boys. Mebbyso
heap likum drink yo' butter water. Bueno."
When Phoebe nodded assent, Hagar went on to the news which had brought
her so soon to the ranch--the news which satisfied both an old grudge
and her love of gossip.
"Good Injun, him all time heap kay bueno," she stated emphatically, her
sloe black eyes fixed unwaveringly upon Phoebe's face to see if the stab
was effective. "Good Injun come Hartley, all time drunk likum pig.
"All time heap yell, heap shoot--kay bueno. Wantum fight
Man-that-coughs. Come all time camp, heap yell, heap shoot some more. I
fetchum dog--Viney dog--heap dragum through sagebrush--dog all time cry,
no can get away--me thinkum kill that dog. Squaws cry--Viney cry--Good
Injun"--Hagar paused here for greater effect--"makum horse all time
buck--ridum in wikiup--Hagar wikiup--all time breakum--no can fix that
wikiup. Good Injun, hee-e-ap kay bueno!" At the last her voice was high
and tremulous with anger.
"Good Indian mebbyso all same my boy Wally." Phoebe gave the butter a
vicious slap. "Me heap love Good Indian. You no call Good Indian, you
call Grant. Grant bueno. Heap bueno all time. No drunk, no yell, no
shoot, mebbyso"--she hesitated, knowing well the possibilities of her
foster son--"mebbyso catchum dog--me think no catchum. Grant all same my
boy. All time me likum--heap bueno."
Viney and Lucy nudged each other and tittered into their blankets,
for the argument was an old one between Hagar and Phoebe, though the
grievance of Hagar might be fresh. Hagar shifted her blanket and thrust
out a stubborn under lip.
"Wally boy, heap bueno," she said; and her malicious old face softened
as she spoke of him, dear as her own first-born. "Jack bueno, mebbyso
Gene bueno, mebbyso Clark, mebbyso Donny all time bueno." Doubt was in
her voice when she praised those last two, however, because of their
continual teasing. She stopped short to emphasize the damning contrast.
"Good Injun all same mebbyso yo' boy Grant, hee-ee-eap kay bueno. Good
Injun Grant all time DEBBIL!"
It was at this point that Donny slipped away to report that "Mamma and
old Hagar are scrappin' over Good Injun again," and told with glee the
tale of his misdeeds as recounted by the squaw.
Phoebe in her earnestness forgot to keep within the limitations of their
dialect.
"Grant's a good boy, and a smart boy. There isn't a better-hearted
fellow in the country, if I have got five boys of my own. You think
I like him better than I like Wally, is all ails you, Hagar. You're
jealous of Grant, and you always have been, ever since his father
left him with me. I hope my heart's big enough to hold them all." She
remembered then that they could not understand half she was saying, and
appealed to Viney. Viney liked Grant.
"Viney, you tell me. Grant no come Hartley, no drunk, no yell, no
catchum you dog, no ride in Hagar's wikiup? You tell me, Viney."
Viney and Lucy bobbed their heads rapidly up and down. Viney, with a
sidelong glance at Hagar, spoke softly.
"Good Injun Grant, mebbyso home Hartley," she admitted reluctantly, as
if she would have been pleased to prove Hagar a liar in all things.
"Me thinkum no drunk. Mebbyso ketchum dog--dog kay bueno, mebbyso me
killing. Good Injun Grant no heap yell, no shoot all time--mebbyso no
drunk. No breakum wikiup. Horse all time kay bueno, Hagar--"
"Shont-isham!" (big lie) Hagar interrupted shrilly then, and Viney
relapsed into silence, her thin face growing sullen under the upbraiding
she received in her native tongue. Phoebe, looking at her attentively,
despaired of getting any nearer the truth from any of them.
There was a sudden check to Hagar's shrewish clamor. The squaws
stiffened to immobility and listened stolidly, their eyes alone
betraying the curiosity they felt. Off somewhere at the head of the tiny
pond, hidden away in the jungle of green, a voice was singing; a girl's
voice, and a strange voice--for the squaws knew well the few women
voices along the Snake.
"That my girl," Phoebe explained, stopping the soft pat--pat of her
butter-ladle.
"Where ketchum yo' girl?" Hagar forgot her petulance, and became curious
as any white woman.
"Me ketchum 'way off, where sun come up. In time me have heap
boys--mebbyso want girl all time. My mother's sister's boy have one
girl, 'way off where sun come up. My mother's sister's boy die, his
wife all same die, that girl mebbyso heap sad; no got father, no got
mother--all time got nobody. Kay bueno. That girl send one letter, say
all time got nobody. Me want one girl. Me send one letter, tell that
girl come, be all time my girl. Five days ago, that girl come. Her heap
glad; boys all time heap glad, my man heap glad. Bueno. Mebbyso you glad
me have one girl." Not that their approval was necessary, or even of
much importance; but Phoebe was accustomed to treat them like spoiled
children.
Hagar's lip was out-thrust again. "Yo' ketchum one girl, mebbyso yo' no
more likum my boy Wally. Kay bueno."
"Heap like all my boys jus' same," Phoebe hastened to assure her, and
added with a hint of malice, "Heap like my boy Grant all same."
"Huh!" Hagar chose to remain unconvinced and antagonistic. "Good Injun
kay bueno. Yo' girl, mebbyso kay bueno."
"What name yo' girl?" Viney interposed hastily.
"Name Evadna Ramsey." In spite of herself, Phoebe felt a trifle chilled
by their lack of enthusiasm. She went back to her butter-making in
dignified silence.
The squaws blinked at her stolidly. Always they were inclined toward
suspicion of strangers, and perhaps to a measure of jealousy as well.
Not many whites received them with frank friendship as did the Hart
family, and they felt far more upon the subject than they might put into
words, even the words of their own language.
Many of the white race looked upon them as beggars, which was bad
enough, or as thieves, which was worse; and in a general way they could
not deny the truth of it. But they never stole from the Harts, and they
never openly begged from the Harts. The friends of the Harts, however,
must prove their friendship before they could hope for better than an
imperturbable neutrality. So they would not pretend to be glad. Hagar
was right--perhaps the girl was no good. They would wait until they
could pass judgment upon this girl who had come to live in the wikiup
of the Harts. Then Lucy, she who longed always for children and had been
denied by fate, stirred slightly, her nostrils aquiver.
"Mebbyso bueno yo' girl," she yielded, speaking softly. "Mebbyso see
yo' girl."
Phoebe's face cleared, and she called, in mellow crescendo: "Oh,
Va-ad-NIEE?" Immediately the singing stopped.
"Coming, Aunt Phoebe," answered the voice.
The squaws wrapped themselves afresh in their blankets, passed brown
palms smoothingly down their hair from the part in the middle, settled
their braids upon their bosoms with true feminine instinct, and waited.
They heard her feet crunching softly in the gravel that bordered the
pond, but not a head turned that way; for all the sign of life they
gave, the three might have been mere effigies of women. They heard a
faint scream when she caught sight of them sitting there, and their
faces settled into more stolid indifference, adding a hint of antagonism
even to the soft eyes of Lucy, the tender, childless one.
"Vadnie, here are some new neighbors I want you to get acquainted with."
Phoebe's eyes besought the girl to be calm. "They're all old friends of
mine. Come here and let me introduce you--and don't look so horrified,
honey!"
Those incorrigibles, her cousins, would have whooped with joy at her
unmistakable terror when she held out a trembling hand and gasped
faintly: "H-how do you--do?"
"This Hagar," Phoebe announced cheerfully; and the old squaw caught the
girl's hand and gripped it tightly for a moment in malicious enjoyment
of her too evident fear and repulsion.
"This Viney."
Viney, reading Evadna's face in one keen, upward glance, kept her hands
hidden in the folds of her blanket, and only nodded twice reassuringly.
"This Lucy."
Lucy read also the girl's face; but she reached up, pressed her hand
gently, and her glance was soft and friendly. So the ordeal was over.
"Bring some of that cake you baked to-day, honey--and do brace up!"
Phoebe patted her upon the shoulder.
Hagar forestalled the hospitable intent by getting slowly upon her fat
legs, shaking her hair out of her eyes, and grunting a command to the
others. With visible reluctance Lucy and Viney rose also, hitched their
blankets into place, and vanished, soft-footed as they had come.
"Oo-oo!" Evadna stared at the place where they were not. "Wild
Indians--I thought the boys were just teasing when they said so--and
it's really true, Aunt Phoebe?"
"They're no wilder than you are," Phoebe retorted impatiently.
"Oh, they ARE wild. They're exactly like in my history--and they don't
make a sound when they go--you just look, and they're gone! That old fat
one--did you see how she looked at me? As if she wanted to--SCALP me,
Aunt Phoebe! She looked right at my hair and--"
"Well, she didn't take it with her, did she? Don't be silly. I've known
old Hagar ever since Wally was a baby. She took him right to her own
wikiup and nursed him with her own papoose for two months when I was
sick, and Viney stayed with me day and night and pulled me through. Lucy
I've known since she was a papoose. Great grief, child! Didn't you hear
me say they're old friends? I wanted you to be nice to them, because
if they like you there's nothing they won't do for you. If they don't,
there's nothing they WILL do. You might as well get used to them--"
Out by the gate rose a clamor which swept nearer and nearer until the
noise broke at the corner of the house like a great wave, in a tumult of
red blanket, flying black hair, the squalling of a female voice, and
the harsh laughter of the man who carried the disturbance, kicking and
clawing, in his arms. Fighting his way to the milk-house, he dragged the
squaw along beside the porch, followed by the Indians and all the Hart
boys, a yelling, jeering audience.
"You tell her shont-isham! Ah-h--you can't break loose, you old
she-wildcat. Quit your biting, will you? By all the big and little
spirits of your tribe, you'll wish--"
Panting, laughing, swearing also in breathless exclamations, he forced
her to the top of the steps, backed recklessly down them, and came to
a stop in the corner by the door. Evadna had taken refuge there; and he
pressed her hard against the rough wall without in the least realizing
that anything was behind him save unsentient stone.
"Now, you sing your little song, and be quick about it!" he commanded
his captive sternly. "You tell Mother Hart you lied. I hear she's been
telling you I'm drunk, Mother Hart--didn't you, you old beldam? You say
you heap sorry you all time tellum lie. You say: 'Good Injun, him all
time heap bueno.' Say: 'Good Injun no drunk, no heap shoot, no heap
yell--all time bueno.' Quick, or I'll land you headforemost in that
pond, you infernal old hag!"
"Good Injun hee-eeap kay bueno! Heap debbil all time." Hagar might be
short of breath, but her spirit was unconquered, and her under lip bore
witness to her stubbornness.
Phoebe caught him by the arm then, thinking he meant to make good his
threat--and it would not have been unlike Grant Imsen to do so.
"Now, Grant, you let her go," she coaxed. "I know you aren't drunk--of
course, I knew it all the time. I told Hagar so. What do you care what
she says about you? You don't want to fight an old woman, Grant--a man
can't fight a woman--"
"You tell her you heap big liar!" Grant did not even look at Phoebe,
but his purpose seemed to waver in spite of himself. "You all time kay
bueno. You all time lie." He gripped her more firmly, and turned his
head slightly toward Phoebe. "You'd be tired of it yourself if she threw
it into you like she does into me, Mother Hart. It's got so I can't ride
past this old hag in the trail but she gives me the bad eye, and mumbles
into her blanket. And if I look sidewise, she yowls all over the country
that I'm drunk. I'm getting tired of it!" He shook the squaw as a puppy
shakes a shoe--shook her till her hair quite hid her ugly old face from
sight.
"All right--Mother Hart she tellum mebbyso let you go. This time I no
throw you in pond. You heap take care next time, mebbyso. You no tellum
big lie, me all time heap drunk. You kay bueno. All time me tellum
Mother Hart, tellum boys, tellum Viney, Lucy, tellum Charlie and Tom and
Sleeping Turtle you heap big liar. Me tell Wally shont-isham. Him all
time my friend--mebbyso him no likum you no more.
"Huh. Get out--pikeway before I forget you're a lady!"
He laughed ironically, and pushed her from him so suddenly that she
sprawled upon the steps. The Indians grinned unsympathetically at her,
for Hagar was not the most popular member of the tribe by any means.
Scrambling up, she shook her witch locks from her face, wrapped herself
in her dingy blanket, and scuttled away, muttering maledictions under
her breath. The watching group turned and followed her, and in a few
seconds the gate was heard to slam shut behind them. Grant stood where
he was, leaning against the milk-house wall; and when they were gone, he
gave a short, apologetic laugh.
"No need to lecture, Mother Hart. I know it was a fool thing to do; but
when Donny told me what the old devil said, I was so mad for a minute--"
Phoebe caught him again by the arm and pulled him forward. "Grant!
You're squeezing Vadnie to death, just about! Great grief, I forgot all
about the poor child being here! You poor little--"
"Squeezing who?" Grant whirled, and caught a brief glimpse of a crumpled
little figure behind him, evidently too scared to cry, and yet not quite
at the fainting point of terror. He backed, and began to stammer an
apology; but she did not wait to hear a word of it. For an instant
she stared into his face, and then, like a rabbit released from its
paralysis of dread, she darted past him and deaf up the stone steps into
the house. He heard the kitchen-door shut, and the click of the lock.
He heard other doors slam suggestively; and he laughed in spite of his
astonishment.
"And who the deuce might that be?" he asked, feeling in his pocket for
smoking material.
Phoebe seemed undecided between tears and laughter. "Oh, Grant, GRANT!
She'll think you're ready to murder everybody on the ranch--and you can
be such a nice boy when you want to be! I did hope--"
"I don't want to be nice," Grant objected, drawing a match along a
fairly smooth rock.
"Well, I wanted you to appear at your best; and, instead of that, here
you come, squabbling with old Hagar like--"
"Yes--sure. But who is the timid lady?"
"Timid! You nearly killed the poor girl, besides scaring her half to
death, and then you call her timid. I know she thought there was going
to be a real Indian massacre, right here, and she'd be scalped--"
Wally Hart came back, laughing to himself.
"Say, you've sure cooked your goose with old Hagar, Grant! She's right
on the warpath, and then some. She'd like to burn yuh alive--she said
so. She's headed for camp, and all the rest of the bunch at her heels.
She won't come here any more till you're kicked off the ranch, as near
as I could make out her jabbering. And she won't do your washing any
more, mum--she said so. You're kay bueno yourself, because you take Good
Indian's part. We're all kay bueno--all but me. She wanted me to quit
the bunch and go live in her wikiup. I'm the only decent one in the
outfit." He gave his mother an affectionate little hug as he went past,
and began an investigative tour of the stone jars on the cool rock floor
within. "What was it all about, Grant? What did yuh do to her, anyway?"
"Oh, it wasn't anything. Hand me up a cup of that buttermilk, will you?
They've got a dog up there in camp that I'm going to kill some of these
days--if they don't beat me to it. He was up at the store, and when I
went out to get my horse, he tried to take a leg off me. I kicked him
in the nose and he came at me again, so when I mounted I just dropped
my loop over Mr. Dog. Sleeping Turtle was there, and he said the dog
belonged to Viney, So I just led him gently to camp."
He grinned a little at the memory of his gentleness. "I told Viney I
thought he'd make a fine stew, and, they'd better use him up right away
before he spoiled. That's all there was to it. Well, Keno did sink his
head and pitch around camp a little, but not to amount to anything. He
just stuck his nose into old Hagar's wikiup--and one sniff seemed to be
about all he wanted. He didn't hurt anything."
He took a meditative bite of cake, finished the buttermilk in three
rapturous swallows, and bethought him of the feminine mystery.
"If you please, Mother Hart, who was that Christmas angel I squashed?"
"Vad? Was Vad in on it, mum? I never saw her." Wally straightened up
with a fresh chunk of cake in his hand. "Was she scared?"
"Yes," his mother admitted reluctantly, "I guess she was, all right.
First the squaws--and, poor girl, I made her shake hands all round--and
then Grant here, acting like a wild hyena--"
"Say, PLEASE don't tell me who she is, or where she belongs, or anything
like that," Grant interposed, with some sarcasm. "I smashed her flat
between me and the wall, and I scared the daylights out of her; and I'm
told I should have appeared at my best. But who she is, or where she
belongs--"
"She belongs right here." Phoebe's tone was a challenge, whether she
meant it to be so or not. "This is going to be her home from now on; and
I want you boys to treat her nicer than you've been doing. She's been
here a week almost; and there ain't one of you that's made friends with
her yet, or tried to, even. You've played jokes on her, and told her
things to scare her--and my grief! I was hoping she'd have a softening
influence on you, and make gentlemen of you. And far as I can make out,
just having her on the place seems to put the Old Harry into every one
of you! It isn't right. It isn't the way I expected my boys would act
toward a stranger--a girl especially. And I did hope Grant would behave
better."
"Sure, he ought to. Us boneheads don't know any better--but Grant's
EDUCATED." Wally grinned and winked elaborately at his mother's back.
"I'm not educated up to Christmas angels that look as if they'd been
stepped on," Grant defended himself.
"She's a real nice little thing. If you boys would quit teasing the life
out of her, I don't doubt but what, in six months or so, you wouldn't
know the girl," Phoebe argued, with some heat.
"I don't know the girl now." Grant spoke dryly. "I don't want to. If I'd
held a tomahawk in one hand and her flowing locks in the other, and
was just letting a war-whoop outa me, she'd look at me--the way she did
look." He snorted in contemptuous amusement, and gave a little, writhing
twist of his slim body into his trousers. "I never did like blondes," he
added, in a tone of finality, and started up the steps.
"You never liked anything that wore skirts," Phoebe flung after him
indignantly; and she came very close to the truth.
More
-
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... On Blacksnake's Trail
At first, they could see little, for not much light filtered through the small door and window. Then details of the interior began to grow more distinct in the hut's one room. A tarp had been tacked over the dirt ceiling to keep scorpions and cent... On Grand Tour
The sun had set and all the golden twilight was hazy with the dust suspended in swirl and strata over the ugly roofs. In the canvas-faced main street the throng and noise had increased rather than diminished at the approach of dusk. Although clatt... On Guard
The man whose soul held no love of the poetic sat for two or three hours on the threshold of the bunkhouse door, his gaze on the ranchhouse. He was considering his "reputation," and he had reached the conclusion that Barbara Morgan had reason to f... On Into The Wilderness
Great as the shock of the sudden attack and his narrow escape was, Ree gave only a little yell of surprise and anger, and ran in the direction from which the shot had come, drawing his pistol as he went. He found no one. Though utterly regardless ... On Lonely Mountain Roads
"What's happened, Ree?" The tone in which John asked the question, satisfied Kingdom that his friend knew nothing of the shooting. Better than this, however, it satisfied the Indian who knelt silently nearby, still listening, that the boy he ha... On The Back Trail
"Just you two wait a minute!" It was Tom Dillon who uttered the words, as he saw Link Merwell and Job Haskers turn to where their horses were tethered. "You bet they'll wait!" exploded Abe Blower, wrathfully. He stepped forward and seized Mer... On The Chisholm Trail
From the sweeps of high country bordering close upon Santa Fe, it was no easy journey to the Chisholm Trail, even for a trail-eating horse of Blizzard's caliber. But The Kid had taken his time. His ultimate destination, unless fate altered his pla... On The Just And The Unjust
The quarantine guards returned to their camp. Our plans were suddenly and completely upset, and not knowing which way to turn, Sponsilier and I, slightly crestfallen, accompanied the guards. It was already late in the evening, but Captain Ullmer too... On The Way West
"Off at last!" "Hurrah for the West!" "And the Landslide Mine, Roger, don't forget that!" "What a splendid day for beginning the trip!" "Say, we make quite a crowd, don't we?" "Wonder if the train will be on time, Dave?" "I suppose ... On To Black Cat Camp
"You go!" cried Dave. "I thought you had given up prospecting," exclaimed Roger. "Not but that we'd be glad to have you along," put in Phil, hastily. "Well, I have given up prospecting," answered Mr. Dillon, with that broad smile still on h... On To The Siwash
"Who all was doin' the talkin' last night?" asked Frank next morning, when we were having a late breakfast. "Cause I've a joke on somebody. Jim he talks in his sleep often, an' last night after you did finally get settled down, Jim he up in his slee... One Game Hombre
Hardy's gang did not attempt another rush. They had learned their lesson. Keeping under cover, they continued firing steadily, however, and their bullets began to do damage. Every crack and chink was a target. In the afternoon, more riders arr... One Maid Two Men
Jack saw to it that he and Joyce followed the others down the trail at a very leisurely pace. The early night of the Rockies was already cutting them off from the rest of the world. Captain Kilmeny and his betrothed could be seen as shadows growin... One Million Dollars
Eaton, standing on the street curb at the corner of the Ridgway Building, lit a cigar while he hesitated between his rooms and the club. He decided for the latter, and was just turning up the hill, when a hand covered his mouth and an arm was flung ... One Put Over On The Bunch
"Sounds to me," volunteered the irrepressible Big Medicine after a heavy silence, "like as if you'd gone to sleep on your hawse, Little One, and dreamed that there tinkle-tinkle stuff. By cripes, I'd like to see the bell-hawse that could walk away f... One That Ruleth Well His Own House
The news of the school trouble ran through the section like fire through a brule. The younger generations when they heard how Thomas Finch had dared the master, raised him at once to the rank of hero, but the heads of families received the news do... One To One
The solitary rider stood for a moment in silhouette against the somber sky-line, his keen eyes searching the lowering clouds. "Getting its back up for a blizzard," he muttered to himself, as he touched his pony with the spur. Dark, heavy billow... One Trail Ends
"You can trust Grey Molly to me, Vic," said Dan, standing at the head of the gray mare. "I'll keep her as safe as if she was Satan." Gregg watched her almost sadly. He had always taken a rather childish pride in her fierceness. She knew him as a d... Opening The Campaign
"Well, gentlemen, if that is the best rate you can offer us, then we'll drive the cattle. My boys have all been over the trail before, and your figures are no inducement to ship as far as Red River. We are fully aware of the nature of the country, b... Organizing The Forces
Don Lovell and Jim Flood returned from Lasalle County on the last day of February. They had spent a week along the Upper Nueces, and before returning to the ranch closed a trade on thirty-four hundred five and six year old beeves. According to their... Our Vanished Princess
Then came a story told in fierce and excited whisperings, Arnold the speaker, prompted sometimes by his companions; Stone, and the few soldiers grouped about him, awe-stricken and dismayed. Blakely had started up from his litter, his face white wi... Out Of A Pioneer's Trunk
It was a slightly cynical, but fairly good-humored crowd that had gathered before a warehouse on Long Wharf in San Francisco one afternoon in the summer of '51. Although the occasion was an auction, the bidders' chances more than usually hazardous... Out Of The Night
"There is but one remedy for your complaint." Doctor Suydam settled deeper into his chair. "Marry the girl." "That is the only piece of your professional advice I ever cared to follow. But how?" "Any way you can--use force if necessary--only ... Out Of The Storm A Man
He stood blinking in the doorway, white-sheeted with snow from head to heel. As his eyes became accustomed to the light they passed with surprise from the men to the young women. A flash of recognition lit in them, but he offered no word of greeti... Overheard In The Summer-house
"Dave, what do you think! I saw Link Merwell this morning!" It was Laura who spoke, as she burst into her brother's room, where the youth was looking over the things he expected to take with him on his trip West. "You saw Link Merwell!" cried... Padre Ignazio
At Santa Ysabel del Mar the season was at one of its moments when the air hangs quiet over land and sea. The old breezes had gone; the new ones were not yet risen. The flowers in the mission garden opened wide, for no wind came by day or night to ... Pals
He was a red-headed, stringy boy between eighteen and nineteen years old. His hands were laced back of the head, but he waggled a foot by way of greeting. "'Lo, June," he called. "What you doin'?" she demanded. "Oh, jes' watchin' the grass... Pardners
"Most all the old quotations need fixing," said Joyce in tones forbidding dispute. "For instance, the guy that alluded to marriages germinating in heaven certainly got off on the wrong foot. He meant pardnerships. The same works ain't got capacit... Pardners
"Looks like you'd say somethin' about them pancakes instead of settin' there shovelin'." "Haven't I told you regular every morning for six months that they was great pancakes? Couldn't you let me off for once?" The two partners glared at each... Partners In Peril
Into the office of Blister Haines, J. P., a young man walked. He was a berry-brown youth, in the trappings of the range-rider, a little thin and stringy, perhaps, but well-poised and light-stepping. With one swift glance the fat man swept his vi... Patty Goes To Town
Ma Watts called loudly from the doorway and numerous small Wattses appeared as if by magic from the direction of the creek and the cottonwood thicket. Dinner consisted of flabby salt pork, swimming in its own grease, into which were dipped by mean... Peace And A Sunset
Red Linton had recovered--there was no doubt of that. For Linton, though a trifle pale, was vigorous. Vigor was in the look of him as he stood, a slow grin on his face, beside Barbara Morgan at the entrance of the patio of the Rancho Seco ranchhou...