The Cub Engineer
: Still Jim"Humans constantly shift sand and rock from place to place.
They call this work. I have seen time return their every
work to the form in which it was created."
MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT.
It was hard to go. But Jim was young and adventure called him. As the
train began its long transcontinental journey, Jim would not have
He was that creature of unmatched vanity, a young man with his first
job. And Jim's first job was with his government. The Reclamation
Service was, to Jim's mind, a collection of great souls, scientifically
inclined, giving their lives to their country, harvesting their rewards
in adventure and in the abandoned gratitude of a watching nation.
Jim was headed for the Green Mountain project which was located in the
Indian country of the far Northwest. There were not many months of work
left on the dam or the canals. But Jim was to report to the engineer in
charge of this project to receive from him his first training.
This was Jim's first trip away from the Atlantic coast. He was a typical
Easterner, accustomed to landscapes on a small scale and to the human
touch on everything. Until he left St. Paul, nothing except the extreme
width of the map really surprised him. But after the train had crossed
the Mississippi valley, it began to traverse vast rolling plains,
covered from horizon to horizon with wheat. At endless intervals were
set tiny dwellings like lone sentinels guarding the nation's bread.
After the plains, came an arid country where a constantly beaten
vegetation fought with the alkali until at last it gave way to a world
of yellow sand and purple sky.
After a day of this, far to the west appeared a delicate line of
snowcapped peaks toward which the flying train snailed for hours, until
Jim, watching eagerly, saw the sand give way to low grassy hills, the
hills merge into ridges and the ridges into pine-clad mountain slopes.
For the last two days of the trip the train swung through dizzy spaces,
slid through dim, dripping canyons, crossed trestles even greater than
the trestles of Jim's boyhood dreams; twisted about peaks that gave
unexpected, fleeting views of other peaks of other ranges until Jim
crawled into his berth at night sight-weary and with a sense of
loneliness that appalled him.
At noon of a bright day, Jim landed at a little way station from which a
single-gauge track ran off into apparent nothingness. Puffing on the
single-gauge track was a "dinky" engine, coupled to a flat car. Wooden
benches were fastened along one end of the car. The engineer and fireman
were loading sheet iron on the other end. They looked Jim over as he
approached them.
"Do you go up to the dam?" he asked.
"If we ever get this stuff loaded," replied the engineer.
"I'd like to go up with you," said Jim. "I've got a job up there."
The engineer grunted. "Another cub engineer. All right, sonny. Load your
trousseau onto the Pullman."
Jim grinned sheepishly and heaved his trunk and suit case up on the flat
car. Then he lent a hand with the sheet iron and climbed aboard.
"Let her rip, Bill," said the fireman. And she proceeded to rip. Jim
held his hat between his knees and clung to the bench with both hands.
The dinky whipped around curves and across viaducts, the grade rising
steadily until just as Jim had made up his mind that his moments were
numbered, they reached the first steep grade into the mountain. From
this point the ride was a slow and steady climb up a pine-covered
mountain. Just before sunset the engine stopped at a freight shed.
"Go on up the trail," said the fireman. "We'll send your stuff up to the
officers' camp."
Jim saw a wide macadam road leading up through the pines. The
unmistakable sounds of great construction work dropped faintly down to
him. His pulse quickened and he started up the road which wound for a
quarter of a mile through trees the trunks of which were silhouetted
against the setting sun. Then the road swept into the open. Jim stopped.
First he saw ranges, stretching away and away to the evening glory of
the sky. Then, nearer, he saw solitary peaks, etched black against the
heavens, and groups of peaks whose mighty flanks merged as if in a final
struggle for supremacy.
The boy saw a country of mighty distances, of indescribable cruelty and
hostility, a country of unthinkable heights and impassable depths. And,
standing so, struggling to resist the sense of the region's terrifying
bigness, he saw that all the valleys and canyons and mountain slopes
seemed to focus toward one point. It was as if they had concentrated at
one spot against a common enemy.
This point, he saw, was a huge black canyon that carried the waters from
all the hundred hills around. It was the point where the war of waters
must be keenest, where the stand of the wilderness was most savage and
where lay the one touch of man in all that area of contending mountains.
A vast wall of masonry had been built to block the outlet of the ranges.
A curving wall of gray stone, so huge, so naked of conscious adornment
that the hills might well have disbelieved it to be an enemy and have
accepted it as part and parcel of their own silent grandeur.
Jim lifted his hat slowly and moistened his lips. This, then, was the
labor to which he had so patronizingly offered his puny hands.
After a while, details obtruded themselves. Jim saw black dots of men
moving about the top of the dam. He heard the clatter of concrete
mixers, the raucous grind of the crusher, the scream of donkey engines
and the shouts of foremen. Back to the right, among the trees, was a
long military line of tents. Above the noise of construction the boy
caught the silent brooding of the forest and, poured round all, the
liquid glory of the sunset. Suddenly he saw the whole great picture as
his own work, and it was a picture as elusive, as tantalizing, as a
boy's first dreams of pirate adventure. Jim had come to his first great
dam.
When he had shaken himself together and had swallowed the lump in his
throat, he asked a passing workman for Mr. Freet, the Project Engineer.
He was directed to a tent with a sheet iron roof. Jim stopped bashfully
in the door. A tall man was standing before a map. Jim had a good look
at him before he turned around.
Mr. Freet wore corduroy riding breeches and leather puttees, a blue
flannel shirt and soft tie. He was thin and tall and had a shock of
bright red hair. When he turned, Jim saw that his face was bronzed and
deeply lined. His eyes were black and small and piercing.
"Mr. Freet," said Jim, "my name is Manning."
The project engineer came forward with a pleasant smile. "Why, Mr.
Manning, we didn't look for you until tomorrow, though your tent is
ready for you. Come in and sit down."
Jim took the proffered camp chair and after a few inquiries about his
trip, Mr. Freet said: "It's supper time and I'll take you over to the
mess and introduce you. Only a few of the engineers have their wives
here and all the others, with the so-called 'office' force, eat at
'Officers' Mess'. I'm not going to load you up with advice, Mr. Manning.
You are a tenderfoot and fresh from college. You occupy the position of
cub engineer here, so you will be fair bait for hazing. Don't take it
too seriously. About your work? I shall put you into the hands of the
chief draughtsman for a time. I want you to thoroughly familiarize
yourself with that end of the work. Then, although most of that part is
done, you will go into the concrete works, then out on the dam with the
superintendent. Remember that you have no record except some good
college work. Forget that you ever were a senior. Look at yourself as a
freshman in a difficult course, where too many cons means a life
failure."
Jim listened respectfully. At that moment Arthur Freet was the biggest
man on earth to him.
"Yes, sir," he said. "Thank you."
Freet pulled on a corduroy coat. "Come over to supper, Manning. Too much
advice on an empty stomach is bad for the digestion."
Jim followed meekly after the Big Boss.
Jim reported to Charlie Tuck, the head draughtsman the next morning.
Tuck was a plump, middle-aged man, bald headed and clean shaven, with
mild blue eyes. Jim put him down in his own mind as a sissy and chafed a
little at being put into Tuck's care. But his discontent was shortlived.
Tuck proved to be a hard taskmaster. Before the end of the week Jim
realized that he would not get out of Tuck's hands until he knew every
inch of the design of the great dam from the sluice gates and the
drainage holes to the complete vertical section. He had no patience with
mistakes and Jim took his grilling in silence, for the fat little man
showed a deep knowledge of the technical side of dam building that
reduced the cub engineer to a humble pulp.
Also, Jim discovered that Tuck was an old Yale man and that his
avocation in life seemed to be tennis. The engineers had a good court in
the woods and after Tuck found that Jim liked the game, he took the boy
over to the court every afternoon before supper and beat him with
monotonous regularity. And Jim was a good player.
The dam was far from civilization and the engineers welcomed Jim,
although they treated him with the jocularity that his youth and
inexperience demanded. The novelty of his environment, the romance of
the great gray dam, built with such frightful risk and difficulty,
absorbed Jim for the first week or so. He had no thought of homesickness
until the excitement of his new work began to recede. And then, quite
unexpectedly, it descended on him like a leaden cloud.
The longing for home! The helpless, hopeless sickness of the heart for
dear familiar faces! The seeing of alien places through tear-dimmed
eyes, the answering to strange voices with an aching throat, and the
poignancy of memory! Jim's mind dwelt monotonously on the worn spot in
the library hearth rug where he and Uncle Denny had spent so many, many
hours. There was the crack in the brown teapot that his mother would not
discard because she had poured Big Jim's tea from it. There was Uncle
Denny's rich Irish voice, "Ah, Still Jim, me boy!" And there was
Pen--dear, dear Penelope, with her woman's eyes in her child's
face--with her halo of hair. Pen's "Take me with you, Still," was the
very peak of sorrow now to the boy. Jim was homesick. And he who has not
known homesickness does not know one of life's most exquisite griefs.
It seemed to Jim now that he hated the Big Country. At night in his tent
he was conscious of the giant dam lying so silent in the darkness and it
made him feel helpless and alone. By day he hid his unhappiness, he
thought. He worked doggedly and did not guess that Charlie Tuck
understood that many times he saw the designs for the wonderful bronze
gates of the sluicing tunnel over which Charlie heckled him for days,
through tear-dimmed eyes.
The camp was lighted by electricity. Jim would sit watching the lights
flare up after supper, watching the night shift on the broad top of the
dam which was as wide as a street and try to pretend that the noise and
the light and the figures belonged to 23rd street. Jim was sitting so in
the door of his tent one night after nearly a month in camp. He held his
pipe but could not smoke because of the ache in his throat. He had not
been there long when Charlie Tuck came up the trail and with a nod sat
down beside Jim.
"Let me have a light," he said. "The fellows are having a rough house
over in the office tonight. Why don't you go over?"
"I don't feel like it, somehow," replied Jim.
Tuck nodded. "You may have hated New York while you lived there, but it
looks good now, eh?"
"Yes," answered Jim.
"You'll feel better when the Boss begins to give you some
responsibility. Were you ever up in the Makon country, Manning?"
"No," said Jim.
"Don't strain yourself talking," commented Tuck, sarcastically. "You are
rather given to blathering, I see. Well, the Makon country wants a dam.
It wants it bad but the Service doesn't see how to get in there. There
is a big valley that has been partially farmed for years. It is
enormously fertile, but there is only enough water in it to irrigate a
limited number of farms.
"Now, ten miles to the north, is the Makon river that never fails of
water. But as near as anyone can find out the only feasible place for
damming it is somewhere in a beastly canyon that no man has ever gone
through alive. The river is treacherous and the country would make this
look as well manicured as the Swiss Alps."
Jim listened intently. Charlie Tuck pulled at his pipe for a time, then
he said: "My end of this job is about finished. I like the exploring end
of the work best, anyhow. I was with the Geological Survey for ten years
before the Reclamation Service was created. I made the preliminary
surveys for this project and for the Whitson. I tell you, Manning,
that's the greatest work in the world--getting out into the wilderness
and finding the right spot for civilization to come and thrive. There's
where you get a sense of power that makes you feel like a Pilgrim
Father. The Reclamation Service is a great pipe dream. Some of the
finest men in the country are in it today and nobody knows it."
"Like Mr. Freet," said Jim.
Jim thought that Tuck hesitated for a moment before he answered. "Yes,
and a dozen others. I consider it a privilege to work with them. Say,
Manning, if some way they could find the right level in that canyon and
drive a tunnel through its solid granite walls, they could send the
Makon over into the valley."
"Why doesn't the Service send a man to explore the crevice?" asked Jim.
"That's what I say!" cried Tuck. "Just because a lot of cold feet claim
it can't be done, just because no man has come through that crevice
alive, is no reason one won't. Say, Manning, if I can get the Service to
send me up there, will you go with me?"
"Me!" gasped Jim.
Tuck nodded in his gentle way. "Yes, you see I like you. You are more
congenial than most of the fellows here to me. On a trip like that you
want to be mighty sure you like the fellow you are going to be with.
Then I think you would learn more on a trip like that than in a year of
the sort of work Freet plans for you. And last, because I think you've
got the same kind of feeling for the Service that I have though you've
been here so short a time. It's something that's born in you. What do
you say, Manning?"
Jim never had felt so flattered in his life. And Adventure called to him
like a ship to a land-locked mariner.
"Gee!" he cried, "but you're good to ask me, Mr. Tuck! Bet your life
I'll go!"
Tuck emptied his pipe and rose. "I'll go see Freet now and persuade him
to get busy with the Chief in Washington. One thing, Manning. It will be
a dangerous undertaking. We may not come through alive. You must get
used to the idea, though, that every Project demands its toll of deaths.
People don't realize that. Are you willing to go, knowing the risk?"
With all the valor of youth and ignorance, Jim answered, "I'm ready to
start now."
Mr. Freet was not adverse to the undertaking and the Washington office
shrugged its shoulders. The Project engineer talked seriously to Jim,
though, about the danger of the mission and insisted that he write home
about it before finally committing himself. Jim's letter home, however,
would have moved a far more stolid spirit than Uncle Denny, for he
sketched the danger hazily and dwelt at length on the honor and glory of
the undertaking. The reply from the brownstone front was as enthusiastic
as Jim could desire.
Tuck undertook the preparations for the expedition with the utmost care.
Only the two of them were to go. The outfit must be such as they could
handle themselves, yet as complete as possible. Two folding canvas
boats, two air mattresses, life preservers, waterproof bags, first aid
appliances, brandy, sweet oil, surveying implements, food in as compact
form as possible, guns and fishing tackle made a formidable pile for two
men to manage. But at Jim's protest Charlie answered grimly that they
would not be heavily laden when they came out of the canyon.
It was mid-August when the two men reached the Makon country. They
arranged with a rancher to take them and their outfit up to the river.
There was no road, scarcely even a trail up to the canyon. The green of
the ranches was encircled by a greasewood-covered plain that, toward the
river, became rock covered and rough so that a wagon was out of the
question and the sturdy pack horses themselves could move but slowly.
Jim's first view of the Makon Canyon was of a black rift in a rough
brown sea of sand, with a blue gray sky above. As the little pack train
drew nearer he saw that the walls of the rift were weathered and broken
into fissures and points of seeming impassable roughness. So deep and
so craggy were these walls that the river a half mile below could be
seen only at infrequent intervals. The labor of getting into the crevice
would be quite as difficult, Jim thought, as going through it.
They made camp that night close beside the canyon edge. Early the next
morning the rancher left them and Charlie and Jim prepared to get
themselves and their outfit down over the mighty, bristling walls.
Lowering each other and the packs by ropes, sliding, rolling, jumping,
crawling, it was night before they reached the river's edge, where they
made camp. There was a narrow sandy beach with a cottonwood tree growing
close to the granite wall. Under this they put their air mattresses and
built their fire.
Jim did not like the feeling of nervousness he had in realizing how deep
they were below the desert and how narrow and oppressive were the canyon
walls. He was glad that the strenuous day sent them off to bed and to
sleep as soon as they had finished supper. They were up at dawn.
Charlie's purpose was to work down the river, surveying as he went until
he found a level where the river would flow through a tunnel out onto
the valley. And this level, too, must be at a point where construction
work was possible. The river was incredibly rough and treacherous. From
the first they packed everything in waterproof bags. The canvas canoes
were impractical. The river was full of hidden rock and by the third day
the second canoe was torn to pieces and they were depending on rafts
made from the air mattresses.
After the canoes were gone, they spent practically all the daylight in
the water, swimming or wading and towing or pushing the mattresses. The
water was very cold but they were obliged to work so hard that they
scarcely felt the chill until they made camp at night. Jim discovered
that a transit could be used in a cauldron of water or on a peak of rock
where a slip meant instant death or clinging to steep walls that
threatened rock slide at the misplacing of a pebble.
One arduous task was the locating of a camp at night. The second night
in the camp they were lucky. They found a broad ledge in a spot that at
first seemed hopeless, for the blank walls appeared here almost to meet
above the deep well of water. There was a little driftwood on the ledge
and they had a fire. The following two nights they were less fortunate.
The best they could find were chaotic heaps of fallen rock on which to
lay their mattresses, and they slept with extreme discomfort.
The fifth day was a black day. They were swimming slowly behind their
laden mattresses through deep, smooth black water when, without warning,
the river curved and swept over a small fall into heavy rapids.
Instantly the mattresses were whirling like chips. The two men fought
like mad to tow them to a rock ledge, the only visible landing place the
crevice had to offer. But long before this haven was reached the
mattresses were torn to shreds and Jim and Charlie were glad to reach
the ledge with their surveying instruments and two bags of "grub." Here
they sat dripping and exhausted. It was nearly dark. Night set in early
in the canyon. They dared not try to look for a better camping ground
that night. The ledge was just large enough for the two of them, with
what remained of their dunnage.
Charlie grinned. "Welcome to our city. Well, it's as good as a Pullman
berth at that."
"And no harder to dress on," said Jim, standing up carefully and
beginning to peel off his wet clothes. "I guess if we wring these duds
out and rub with alcohol, they won't feel so cold."
Charlie rose and began to undress gingerly. "You can stand up to make
your toilet," he said, "which is more than the Pullman offers you."
They ate a cold canned supper and afterward, as they sat shivering, Jim
said, "If we fail to locate the dam site, no one will have any sympathy
with our troubles."
"We will find it," said Charlie with the calm certainty he never had
lost. "Jupiter looks as big as a dinner plate down here. Sometimes when
I look at the stars I wonder what is the use of this kind of work."
Jim looked up at the stars which seemed almost within hand touch. Their
nearness was an unspeakable comfort to the two in the crevice. He spoke
slowly but with unusual ease. Charlie Tuck had grown very near to him in
the past few days.
"I've had a feeling," he said, "ever since we actually got down here and
on the job, that I'm doing the thing I've always been intended to do. I
don't know how I got that feeling because I've always lived in towns."
"I feel that way every time I go out exploring," answered Tuck. "I can
stand the draughting board just so long and then I break loose. I
suppose someone has got to do these jobs and there is always someone
willing to take the responsibility. Kipling calls it being a Son of
Martha. Do you know those verses?"
"No," said Jim. "I'd like to hear them."
Charlie chuckled. "Me reciting Kipling is like hearing a 'co-ed
yell'--it's the only poem I know, though, and here goes. The Sons of
Martha
'--say to the Mountains, Be ye removed! They say to the lesser floods,
run dry!
Under their rods are the rocks reproved. They are not afraid of that
which is high.
Then do the hilltops shake to their summits, then is the bed of the deep
laid bare,
That the Sons of Mary may overcome it, pleasantly sleeping and unaware.
They do not preach that their God will rouse them a little before the
nuts break loose,
They do not teach that His pity allows them to leave their work whenever
they choose.
As in the thronged and the lighted ways, so in the dark and the desert
they stand,
Wary and watchful all their days that their brethren's days may be long
in the land.
Lift ye the stone or cleave the wood to make a path more fair or flat,
Lo, it is black already with blood some Son of Martha spilled for that.
Not as a ladder from Earth to Heaven, not as an altar to any creed,
But simple Service, simply given, to their own kind, in their
common need.'"
The two men sat in silence after Charlie had finished until he said: "If
I were you I'd read Kipling a good deal. He's good food for a man of
your type. People don't realize what their comforts cost. I hope that
when I die it will be on a Son of Martha job. I'm built that way. My
people were New Englanders, then middle west pioneers, and now here I
am, still breaking the wilderness."
Jim sat with his heart swelling with he knew not what great dream. It
was the divine fire of young sacrifice, the subtle sense of devotion
that has made men since the world began lay down their lives for the
thing not seen with the eye.
"I wish you'd teach me those verses," said Jim. "We've got to keep awake
or roll off the ledge."
And so the night passed.
The next day the way was unspeakably difficult. They made progress
slowly and heavily, clambering from rock to rock, clinging to the walls,
fighting through rapids. It was past mid afternoon when they ran a level
in a spot of surpassing grandeur. A rock slide had sent a great heap of
stone into the river. Close beside this they set the transit. Forward
the river swept smoothly round a curve. Back, the two looked on a
magnificent series of flying buttresses of serrated granite, their bases
guarding the river, their tops remotely supporting the heavens. The
buttresses nearest the rock heap and on opposite sides of the river were
not two rods apart.
They ran the levels carefully and then looked at each other in silence.
Then they made another reading and again looked at each other. Then they
packed the transit into its rubber bag, sat down on the rock heap and
gazed at the marching, impregnable line of buttresses.
"It will be even higher than the Green Mountain and a hundred times
more difficult to build," said Charlie, softly.
"She'll be a wonder, won't she!" exclaimed Jim. "The Makon dam. It will
be the highest in the world."
"Granite and concrete! Some beauty that! Eternal as the hills!" said
Charlie. "We will make camp and finish the map here."
They lay long, looking at the stars that night. "Some day," said Jim,
"there will be a two hundred feet width of concrete wall right where we
are lying. Doesn't it make you feel a little hollow in your stomach to
think that you and I have decreed where it shall be?"
"Yes," said Charlie. "It's a good spot, Manning. I hope I get a chance
to lay out the road down here. They will have to blast it out of the
solid granite. It will eat money up to make it."
"Let me in on it, won't you," pleaded Jim.
"Well, slightly!" exclaimed Charlie. "Now for a good night's sleep. We
ought to be out in three days. That will make ten days in all, just what
I planned."
Jim hardly knew Charlie the next day. No college freshman on his first
holiday ever acted more outrageously. He sang ancient college songs that
reverberated in the canyon like yells on a football field. He stood
solemnly on his head on the top of rock pinnacles. He crowned himself
and Jim with wreaths made of water cress that he found on a tiny sandy
beach. When they were obliged to take to the water he pretended that he
was an alligator and made uncouth sounds and lashed the water with the
grub bag in lieu of a tail.
Late in the afternoon, while they were swimming through a whirlpool, he
insisted on giving Jim a lecture on the gentle art of bee-hunting as he
had seen it practiced in Maine.
"Now we will pretend that I am the bee!" he shouted at Jim. "You will
admit that I look like one! I am drunk with honey and I hang to the comb
thus!"
He caught a point of rock with one hand and lazily waved the other.
"This is my proboscis," he explained.
"For heaven's sake, be careful!" yelled Jim. "This is no blooming
ten-cent show! Keep both hands on the rock and climb up for a rest."
Charlie suddenly went white. "God! I've got cramp!" he screamed. "Both
legs. Help me, Manning!"
He struggled to get his free hand on the rock, but the water tore at him
like a ravening beast and he lost his hold. Jim swam furiously after
him. The white head showed for a moment, then disappeared around a turn
of the wall.
More
-
The Bull Wheat At A Dollar-ten
...----and said Party of the Second Part further covenants and agrees to merchandise such wheat in foreign ports, it being understood and agreed between the Party of the First Part and the Party of the Second Part that the wheat hereinbefore mention... The Burrell Code
Not until his dying day will Burrell lose the memory of that march with Necia through the untrodden valley, and yet its incidents were never clear-cut nor distinct when he looked back upon them, but blended into one dreamlike procession, as if he ... The Cabin In The Forest
Hiram Bent packed the cub down the canyon as he would have handled a sack of oats. When we reached the cabin he fastened a heavy dog-collar round Cubby's neck and snapped a chain to it. Doubling the halter, he tied one end to the chain and the other... The Calabash Stew
I had agreed with Denton to stick to the beach, but Schwartz could not last much longer, and I had not the slightest idea how far it might prove to be to Mollyhay. So I turned up the trail. We climbed a mountain ten thousand feet high. I mean th... The Call
At three o'clock the next morning a long line of men slowly filed into the cottonwood grove, being silently swallowed up by the dark. Dismounting, they left their horses in the care of three of their number and disappeared into the brush. Ten min... The Call Of The Mountains
As the approaching company came around the bend of the road into sight of the inn, a "calico" pony detached itself from the group of riders and before those watching on the porch could hear her words, Molly was shouting to them: "We're all righ... The Call Of The Oreads
There was mingled rejoicing and lamentation in the household of John Gale this afternoon. Molly and Johnny were in the throes of an overwhelming sorrow, the noise of which might be heard from the barracks to the Indian village. They were sparing o... The Calm
The day seemed to endure for an age. Rosalind did not leave the car; she did not go near her father, shut up alone in his apartment; she ate nothing, ignoring the negro attendant when he told her that lunch was served, huddled in a chair beside an... The Camp Of The Terror
Kid Wolf knew that the camp fire was many miles away. He gave his horse just a touch of the spur--that was always enough for Blizzard--and they proceeded to split the wind. The horse was as sure-footed as a cat, and was not an animal to step into ... The Camp On The Pass
Berea suffered a restless night, the most painful and broken she had known in all her life. She acknowledged that Siona Moore was prettier, and that she stood more nearly on Wayland's plane than herself; but the realization of this fact did not br... The Campers
Inside the cabin a man was baking biscuits and singing joyously, "It's a Long, Long Way to Tipperary." Outside, another whistled softly to himself while he arranged his fishing tackle. From his book he had selected three flies and was attaching th... The Captain Follows His Ship
When Padre Esteban had finished reading the document he laid it down and fixed his eyes on the young man. Hurlstone met his look with a glance of impatient disdain. "What have you to say to this?" asked the ecclesiastic, a little impressed by h... The Captain's Defiance
Within ten minutes of Todd's arrival at the spot the soft sands of the mesa were tramped into bewildering confusion by dozens of trooper boots. The muffled sound of excited voices, so soon after the startling affair of the earlier evening, and hur... The Capture
Although he had left the room so suddenly, Senor Johnson did not at once open the gate of the adobe wall. His demeanour was gay, for he was a Westerner, but his heart was black. Hardly did he see beyond the convexity of his eyeballs. The pony, ... The Catrock Gang
A woman with a checkered apron and a motherly look came to let her chickens out and milk the cow, and woke Bud so that she could tell him she believed he had been on a "toot", or he never would have taken such a liberty with her corral. Bud agreed t... The Cattle Rustlers
Dawn broke, so we descended through wet grasses to the canon. There, after some difficulty, we managed to start a fire, and so ate breakfast, the rain still pouring down on us. About nine o'clock, with miraculous suddenness, the torrent stopped. ... The Cattle Rustlers
Buck Johnson was American born, but with a black beard and a dignity of manner that had earned him the title of Senor. He had drifted into southeastern Arizona in the days of Cochise and Victorio and Geronimo. He had persisted, and so in time had c... The Challenge
Lidgerwood was unpleasantly surprised to find that the president's daughter knew the man whom her father had tersely characterized as "a born gentleman and a born buccaneer," but the fact remained. When he came with Flemister into the circle of li... The Chaos Of Creation
The West saw many "boom" towns. They followed in the wake of "gold strikes;" they grew, mushroom-like, overnight--garish husks of squalor, palpitating, hardy, a-tingle with extravagant hopes. A few, it is true, lived to become substantial cities b... The Chewed Sugar Cane
"I'd like to have trailed you fellows," sighed a voice from the corner. "Would you!" said Colorado Rogers grimly. It was five days to the next water. But they were worse than the eight days before. We were lucky, however, for at the spring w... The Christmas Angel
Phoebe watched the two unhappily, sighed when they disappeared around the corner of the house, and set her bowl of butter upon the broad, flat rock which just missed being overflowed with water, and sighed again. "I'm afraid it isn't going to work... The Christmas Angel Plays Ghost
At midnight, the Peaceful Hart ranch lay broodily quiet under its rock-rimmed bluff. Down in the stable the saddle-horses were but formless blots upon the rumpled bedding in their stalls--except Huckleberry, the friendly little pinto with the white ... The Claim-jumpers
"Guess that bobcat was after my ducks again, last night," commented Phoebe Hart, when she handed Baumberger his cup of coffee. "The way the dogs barked all night--didn't they keep you awake?" "Never slept better in my life," drawled Baumberger, hi... The Clean Wild Thing
"The Reverend Francis Holliwell." Morena turned the card over and over in his hand. "Holliwell. Holliwell. Frank Holliwell." Yes. One of the fellows that had dropped out. Big, athletic youngster; left college in his junior year and studied for the... The Clean-up
Toy's disappearance was mysterious and complete. There was not a single clue to show which way he had gone, or how, or why. Only one thing seemed certain and that was that his departure was unpremeditated. His potatoes were in a bucket of water, p... The Coming Of A Native Son
The Happy Family, waiting for the Sunday supper call, were grouped around the open door of the bunk-house, gossiping idly of things purely local, when the Old Man returned from the Stock Association at Helena; beside him on the buggy seat sat a stra... The Coming Of The Colony
If you would see northern Montana at its most beautiful best, you should see it in mid-May when the ground-swallows are nesting and the meadow larks are puffing their throats and singing of their sweet ecstasy with life; when curlews go sailing low ... The Coming Of The Sheep
From his seat on the top of a high ridge, Gordon Wade looked into the bowl-shaped valley beneath him, with an expression of amazement on his sun-burned face. Pouring through a narrow opening in the environing hills, and immediately spreading fan-l... The Corral Branding
All that night we slept like sticks of wood. No dreams visited us, but in accordance with the immemorial habit of those who live out--whether in the woods, on the plains, among the mountains, or at sea--once during the night each of us rose on his ... The Cottonwoods
I do not know how long I stayed there alone. It was the Virginian who came back, and as he stood at the foot of my blankets his eye, after meeting mine full for a moment, turned aside. I had never seen him look as he did now, not even in Pitchston... The Crags
Glad indeed was Madeline to be lifted off her horse beside a roaring fire--to see steaming pots upon red-hot coals. Except about her shoulders, which had been protected by the slicker, she was wringing wet. The Mexican women came quickly to help her... The Crash
The several days following Dave's unexpected call at Las Palmas Alaire spent in a delightful reverie. She had so often wrestled with the question of divorce that she had begun to weary of it; and now, when she tried to summon energy to consider it... The Creamery Man
"Along these woods in storm and sun the busy people go." THE tin-peddler has gone out of the West. Amiable gossip and sharp trader that he was, his visits once brought a sharp business grapple to the farmer's wife and daughters, after which, as th... The Crisis
Those mountains above the Barry cabin were, as he told Vic Gregg, inaccessible to men on horseback except by one path, yet there was a single class of travelers who roamed at will through far more difficult ground than this. Speaking in general, whe... The Crisis
The first days of that week were days of strife. Murdie Cameron and Bob Fraser and the other big boys succeeded in keeping in line with the master's rules and regulations. They were careful never to be late, and so saved themselves the degradation... The Crucible
Only Miss Brewster herself could have answered the question of her whereabouts at the exact moment of Van Lew's asking. She was left behind, standing aghast in the midst of tumults, on the platform of the Crow's Nest. Terrified, like the others, a... The Cub Engineer
"Humans constantly shift sand and rock from place to place. They call this work. I have seen time return their every work to the form in which it was created." MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. ... The Cub Reporter
Why he chose Buffalo Paul Anderson never knew, unless perhaps it had more newspapers than Bay City, Michigan, and because his ticket expired in the vicinity of Buffalo. For that matter, why he should have given up an easy job as the mate of a tugb... The Cullisons
Curly was awakened by the sound of the cook beating the call to breakfast on a triangle. Buck was standing beside the bed. "How're they coming this glad mo'ning, son?" he inquired with a grin. "Fine and dandy," grinned back Flandrau. So he ... The Cure Complete
In Nelson Flat the lupines were like spilled bluing in great, acre-wide blots upon the meadow grass. Between cabin and creek bank a little plot had been spaded and raked smooth, and already the peas and lettuce and radishes were up and growing as if th... The Dance At Fraser's
"Heard tell yet of the dance over to Fraser's?" He was a young man of a brick red countenance and he wore loosely round his neck the best polka dot silk handkerchief that could be bought in Gimlet Butte, also such gala attire as was usually reserv... The Danger Line
Though Champ Lee had business in Mesa next day that would not be denied, he was singularly loath to leave the ranch. He wanted to stay close to Melissy until the denouement of the hunt for the stage robber. On the other hand, it was well known tha... The Daughter Of A Chief
In spite of Andy Green's plea for delay until they knew what Luck meant to do, Applehead went on with his energetic preparations for a spring roundup of his own. Some perverse spirit seemed to possess him and drive him out of his easy-going shiftles... The Daughter Of Withersteen
"Lassiter, will you be my rider?" Jane had asked him. "I reckon so," he had replied. Few as the words were, Jane knew how infinitely much they implied. She wanted him to take charge of her cattle and horse and ranges, and save t... The Dawn
Juan Garcia proved to be a good guide, and he saved the refugees many miles on their road to the Rio Grande. But every farm and every village was a menace, and at first they were forced to make numerous detours. As the night grew older, however, t... The Day's Work
"Women know a loyalty that men scorn while they use it. This is the sex stamp of women." MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. With a quick glance at Sara, Jim rose. "Give Mr. Saradokis and his friend a ... The Dead Heart
Vaguely, as of a sound coming from far distances, the crack of a revolver-shot penetrated to the girl's numbed brain. It did not surprise her. Indeed, it roused only a feeling of the mildest curiosity in one whose nerves had been strained almost t... The Death Song Of The Sioux
That was a gruesome night at Frayne. Just at tattoo the door leading to the little cell room had been thrown open, and the sergeant of the guard bade the prisoners come forth,--all warriors of the Ogalalla band and foremost of their number was Eag... The Death-grapple
There was something so sinister in the rider's disregard of stone and tree and pace, something so menacing in the forward thrust of his body, that Berrie was able to divine his wrath, and was smitten into irresolution--all her hardy, boyish self-r... The Deepole
Archibald Munro had a steady purpose in life--to play the man, and to allow no pain of his--and pain never left him long--to spoil his work, or to bring a shadow to the life of any other. And though he had his hard times, no one who could not read... The Desert
Button was a trusty of Senor Johnson's private animals. He was never known to leave his master in the lurch, and so was habitually allowed certain privileges. Now, instead of remaining exactly on the spot where he was "tied to the ground," he had ... The Desert Chariot
Lee Virginia Wetherford began her return journey into the mountain West with exultation. From the moment she opened her car-window that August morning in Nebraska the plain called to her, sustained her illusions. It was all quite as big, as tawny,... The Desert-hawk
TOWARD the close of the next day Jack Hare arrived at Seeping Springs. A pile of gray ashes marked the spot where the trimmed logs had lain. Round the pool ran a black circle hard packed into the ground by many hoofs. Even the board flume had been... The Devotion Of Enriquez
In another chronicle which dealt with the exploits of "Chu Chu," a Californian mustang, I gave some space to the accomplishments of Enriquez Saltillo, who assisted me in training her, and who was also brother to Consuelo Saitillo, the young lady t... The Dipsomaniac
There are moments when the primal instincts assert themselves with a sort of blind ferocity, and to Judson, jammed under the floor timbers of Flemister's head-quarters office, came one of these moments when he heard the two men in the room above m... The Discovery
Senor Buck Johnson loped quickly back toward the home ranch, his heart glad at this fortunate solution of his annoyance. The home ranch lay in plain sight not ten miles away. As Senor Johnson idly watched it shimmering in the heat, a tiny figure d... The Doors Of Paradise
Alaire began the mockery of playing hostess with extreme distaste, and as the meal progressed she experienced a growing uneasiness. Longorio's bearing had changed since his arrival. He was still extravagantly courteous, beautifully attentive; he m... The Dot Outfit
Before he laid him down to sleep, that night, Weary had repeated to himself many times and fervently that wish for old J. G. Whitmore and the stout staff upon which he was beginning more and more to lean, his brother-in-law, Chip Bennett. As matters... The Downfall
In one point the master was a great disappointment to Hughie; he could not be persuaded to play shinny. The usual challenge had come up from the Front, with its more than usual insolence, and Hughie, who now ranked himself among the big boys, felt... The Dregs
When the Benham private car came to a stop on the switch, Rosalind swung up the steps and upon the platform just as J. C., ruddy, smiling and bland, opened the door. She was in his arms in an instant, murmuring her joy. He stroked her hair, then h... The Drive
A cry awakened me. It was still deep night. The moon sailed overhead, the stars shone unwavering like candles, and a chill breeze wandered in from the open spaces of the desert. I raised myself on my elbow, throwing aside the blankets and the can... The Dual Personality Of Slick Dick Nickerson
I. On a certain morning in the spring of the year, the three men who were known as the Three Black Crows called at the office of "The President of the Pacific and Oriental Flotation Company," situated in an obscure street near San Francisco's w... The Election
At the very moment that the tramp of twenty thousand feet turned toward the State-house, the report of the bribery investigating committee was being read to the legislature met in joint session. The committee reported that it had examined seven witn... The Elephant's Back
"All living things have a universal hunger--to live again. The hunger for descendants is the same hunger." MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. "Penelope!" Jim called softly. Pen raised her head as if... The Elephant's Love Story
"Coyotes hunt weaker things. Humans hunt all things, even each other, which the coyote will not do." MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. "Don't let me keep you here, Jim," exclaimed Pen so hastily that ... The Emigrants
After the rain that had held us holed up at the Double R over one day, we discussed what we should do next. "The flats will be too boggy for riding, and anyway the cattle will be in the high country," the Cattleman summed up the situation. "We'd ... The Empty Cave
Through ten months of the year a child of ten could wade the Asper but now its deep roaring that set the ground quivering under Barry gave him perfect assurance of safety. Not one of that posse would attempt the crossing, he felt, but he slipped bac... The End Of A Crooked Trail
In the grim faces of the Utes Houck read his doom. He had not the least doubt of it. His trail ended here. The terror in his heart rose less out of the fact itself than the circumstances which surrounded it. The gray dawn, the grim, copper-colo... The End Of Iron Skull's Road
"The Indians know that the spirit blends with the Greater Spirit, and I myself have seen every atom that was mortal lift again and again to new life, out of the desert's atom drift." M... The End Of The Dots
Slim may not have been more curious than his fellows, but he was perhaps more single-hearted in his loyalty to the outfit. To him the shooting of Happy Jack, once he felt assured that the wound was not necessarily fatal, became of secondary importan... The End Of The Silent Campaign
"The dream in them of a greater good lifts humans from the level of brutes. Take this dream from them and they are like quenched comets." MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. It was Oscar's turn to... The End Of The Trail
At the top of the fourth flight of steps, Pierre found himself facing a door that stood ajar. Beyond that door was Joan and he knew not what experience of discovery, of explanation, of punishment. What he had suffered since the night of his cruelt...