The Daughter Of Withersteen
: Riders Of The Purple Sage"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 them if that were possible. Yet, though she
could not have spoken aloud all she me
honest with herself. Whatever the price to be paid, she must keep
Lassiter close to her; she must shield from him the man who had
led Milly Erne to Cottonwoods. In her fear she so controlled her
mind that she did not whisper this Mormon's name to her own soul,
she did not even think it. Besides, beyond this thing she regarded
as a sacred obligation thrust upon her, was the need of a helper,
of a friend, of a champion in this critical time. If she could rule
this gun-man, as Venters had called him, if she could even keep
him from shedding blood, what strategy to play his flame and his
presence against the game of oppression her churchmen were waging
against her? Never would she forget the effect on Tull and his
men when Venters shouted Lassiter's name. If she could not wholly
control Lassiter, then what she could do might put off the fatal
day.
One of her safe racers was a dark bay, and she called him Bells
because of the way he struck his iron shoes on the stones. When
Jerd led out this slender, beautifully built horse Lassiter
suddenly became all eyes. A rider's love of a thoroughbred shone
in them. Round and round Bells he walked, plainly weakening all
the time in his determination not to take one of Jane's favorite
racers.
"Lassiter, you're half horse, and Bells sees it already," said
Jane, laughing. "Look at his eyes. He likes you. He'll love you,
too. How can you resist him? Oh, Lassiter, but Bells can run!
It's nip and tuck between him and Wrangle, and only Black Star
can beat him. He's too spirited a horse for a woman. Take him.
He's yours."
"I jest am weak where a hoss's concerned," said Lassiter. "I'll
take him, an' I'll take your orders, ma'am."
"Well, I'm glad, but never mind the ma'am. Let it still be Jane."
From that hour, it seemed, Lassiter was always in the saddle,
riding early and late, and coincident with his part in Jane's
affairs the days assumed their old tranquillity. Her intelligence
told her this was only the lull before the storm, but her faith
would not have it so.
She resumed her visits to the village, and upon one of these she
encountered Tull. He greeted her as he had before any trouble
came between them, and she, responsive to peace if not quick to
forget, met him halfway with manner almost cheerful. He regretted
the loss of her cattle; he assured her that the vigilantes which
had been organized would soon rout the rustlers; when that had
been accomplished her riders would likely return to her.
"You've done a headstrong thing to hire this man Lassiter," Tull
went on, severely. "He came to Cottonwoods with evil intent."
"I had to have somebody. And perhaps making him my rider may turn
out best in the end for the Mormons of Cottonwoods."
"You mean to stay his hand?"
"I do--if I can."
"A woman like you can do anything with a man. That would be well,
and would atone in some measure for the errors you have made."
He bowed and passed on. Jane resumed her walk with conflicting
thoughts. She resented Elder Tull's cold, impassive manner that
looked down upon her as one who had incurred his just
displeasure. Otherwise he would have been the same calm,
dark-browed, impenetrable man she had known for ten years. In
fact, except when he had revealed his passion in the matter of
the seizing of Venters, she had never dreamed he could be other
than the grave, reproving preacher. He stood out now a strange,
secretive man. She would have thought better of him if he had
picked up the threads of their quarrel where they had parted. Was
Tull what he appeared to be? The question flung itself in-
voluntarily over Jane Withersteen's inhibitive habit of faith
without question. And she refused to answer it. Tull could not
fight in the open Venters had said, Lassiter had said, that her
Elder shirked fight and worked in the dark. Just now in this
meeting Tull had ignored the fact that he had sued, exhorted,
demanded that she marry him. He made no mention of Venters. His
manner was that of the minister who had been outraged, but who
overlooked the frailties of a woman. Beyond question he seemed
unutterably aloof from all knowledge of pressure being brought to
bear upon her, absolutely guiltless of any connection with secret
power over riders, with night journeys, with rustlers and
stampedes of cattle. And that convinced her again of unjust
suspicions. But it was convincement through an obstinate faith.
She shuddered as she accepted it, and that shudder was the
nucleus of a terrible revolt.
Jane turned into one of the wide lanes leading from the main
street and entered a huge, shady yard. Here were sweet-smelling
clover, alfalfa, flowers, and vegetables, all growing in happy
confusion. And like these fresh green things were the dozens of
babies, tots, toddlers, noisy urchins, laughing girls, a whole
multitude of children of one family. For Collier Brandt, the
father of all this numerous progeny, was a Mormon with four
wives.
The big house where they lived was old, solid, picturesque the
lower part built of logs, the upper of rough clapboards, with
vines growing up the outside stone chimneys. There were many
wooden-shuttered windows, and one pretentious window of glass
proudly curtained in white. As this house had four mistresses, it
likewise had four separate sections, not one of which
communicated with another, and all had to be entered from the
outside.
In the shade of a wide, low, vine-roofed porch Jane found
Brandt's wives entertaining Bishop Dyer. They were motherly
women, of comparatively similar ages, and plain-featured, and
just at this moment anything but grave. The Bishop was rather
tall, of stout build, with iron-gray hair and beard, and eyes of
light blue. They were merry now; but Jane had seen them when they
were not, and then she feared him as she had feared her father.
The women flocked around her in welcome.
"Daughter of Withersteen," said the Bishop, gaily, as he took her
hand, "you have not been prodigal of your gracious self of late.
A Sabbath without you at service! I shall reprove Elder Tull."
"Bishop, the guilt is mine. I'll come to you and confess," Jane
replied, lightly; but she felt the undercurrent of her words.
"Mormon love-making!" exclaimed the Bishop, rubbing his hands.
"Tull keeps you all to himself."
"No. He is not courting me."
"What? The laggard! If he does not make haste I'll go a-courting
myself up to Withersteen House."
There was laughter and further bantering by the Bishop, and then
mild talk of village affairs, after which he took his leave, and
Jane was left with her friend, Mary Brandt.
"Jane, you're not yourself. Are you sad about the rustling of the
cattle? But you have so many, you are so rich."
Then Jane confided in her, telling much, yet holding back her
doubts of fear.
"Oh, why don't you marry Tull and be one of us?
"But, Mary, I don't love Tull," said Jane, stubbornly.
"I don't blame you for that. But, Jane Withersteen, you've got to
choose between the love of man and love of God. Often we Mormon
women have to do that. It's not easy. The kind of happiness you
want I wanted once. I never got it, nor will you, unless you
throw away your soul. We've all watched your affair with Venters
in fear and trembling. Some dreadful thing will come of it. You
don't want him hanged or shot--or treated worse, as that Gentile
boy was treated in Glaze for fooling round a Mormon woman. Marry
Tull. It's your duty as a Mormon. You'll feel no rapture as his
wife--but think of Heaven! Mormon women don't marry for what they
expect on earth. Take up the cross, Jane. Remember your father
found Amber Spring, built these old houses, brought Mormons here,
and fathered them. You are the daughter of Withersteen!"
Jane left Mary Brandt and went to call upon other friends. They
received her with the same glad welcome as had Mary, lavished
upon her the pent-up affection of Mormon women, and let her go
with her ears ringing of Tull, Venters, Lassiter, of duty to God
and glory in Heaven.
"Verily," murmured Jane, "I don't know myself when, through all
this, I remain unchanged--nay, more fixed of purpose."
She returned to the main street and bent her thoughtful steps
toward the center of the village. A string of wagons drawn by
oxen was lumbering along. These "sage-freighters," as they were
called, hauled grain and flour and merchandise from Sterling, and
Jane laughed suddenly in the midst of her humility at the thought
that they were her property, as was one of the three stores for
which they freighted goods. The water that flowed along the path
at her feet, and turned into each cottage-yard to nourish garden
and orchard, also was hers, no less her private property because
she chose to give it free. Yet in this village of Cottonwoods,
which her father had founded and which she maintained she was not
her own mistress; she was not able to abide by her own choice of
a husband. She was the daughter of Withersteen. Suppose she
proved it, imperiously! But she quelled that proud temptation at
its birth.
Nothing could have replaced the affection which the village
people had for her; no power could have made her happy as the
pleasure her presence gave. As she went on down the street past
the stores with their rude platform entrances, and the saloons
where tired horses stood with bridles dragging, she was again
assured of what was the bread and wine of life to her--that she
was loved. Dirty boys playing in the ditch, clerks, teamsters,
riders, loungers on the corners, ranchers on dusty horses little
girls running errands, and women hurrying to the stores all
looked up at her coming with glad eyes.
Jane's various calls and wandering steps at length led her to the
Gentile quarter of the village. This was at the extreme southern
end, and here some thirty Gentile families lived in huts and
shacks and log-cabins and several dilapidated cottages. The
fortunes of these inhabitants of Cottonwoods could be read in
their abodes. Water they had in abundance, and therefore grass
and fruit-trees and patches of alfalfa and vegetable gardens.
Some of the men and boys had a few stray cattle, others obtained
such intermittent employment as the Mormons reluctantly tendered
them. But none of the families was prosperous, many were very
poor, and some lived only by Jane Withersteen's beneficence.
As it made Jane happy to go among her own people, so it saddened
her to come in contact with these Gentiles. Yet that was not
because she was unwelcome; here she was gratefully received by
the women, passionately by the children. But poverty and
idleness, with their attendant wretchedness and sorrow, always
hurt her. That she could alleviate this distress more now than
ever before proved the adage that it was an ill wind that blew
nobody good. While her Mormon riders were in her employ she had
found few Gentiles who would stay with her, and now she was able
to find employment for all the men and boys. No little shock was
it to have man after man tell her that he dare not accept her
kind offer.
"It won't do," said one Carson, an intelligent man who had seen
better days. "We've had our warning. Plain and to the point! Now
there's Judkins, he packs guns, and he can use them, and so can
the daredevil boys he's hired. But they've little responsibility.
Can we risk having our homes burned in our absence?"
Jane felt the stretching and chilling of the skin of her face as
the blood left it.
"Carson, you and the others rent these houses?" she asked.
"You ought to know, Miss Withersteen. Some of them are yours."
"I know?...Carson, I never in my life took a day's labor for rent
or a yearling calf or a bunch of grass, let alone gold."
"Bivens, your store-keeper, sees to that."
"Look here, Carson," went on Jane, hurriedly, and now her cheeks
were burning. "You and Black and Willet pack your goods and move
your families up to my cabins in the grove. They're far more
comfortable than these. Then go to work for me. And if aught
happens to you there I'll give you money--gold enough to leave
Utah!"
The man choked and stammered, and then, as tears welled into his
eyes, he found the use of his tongue and cursed. No gentle speech
could ever have equaled that curse in eloquent expression of what
he felt for Jane Withersteen. How strangely his look and tone
reminded her of Lassiter!
"No, it won't do," he said, when he had somewhat recovered
himself. "Miss Withersteen, there are things that you don't know,
and there's not a soul among us who can tell you."
"I seem to be learning many things, Carson. Well, then, will you
let me aid you--say till better times?"
"Yes, I will," he replied, with his face lighting up. "I see what
it means to you, and you know what it means to me. Thank you! And
if better times ever come, I'll be only too happy to work for
you."
"Better times will come. I trust God and have faith in man. Good
day, Carson."
The lane opened out upon the sage-inclosed alfalfa fields, and
the last habitation, at the end of that lane of hovels, was the
meanest. Formerly it had been a shed; now it was a home. The
broad leaves of a wide-spreading cottonwood sheltered the sunken
roof of weathered boards. Like an Indian hut, it had one floor.
Round about it were a few scanty rows of vegetables, such as the
hand of a weak woman had time and strength to cultivate. This
little dwelling-place was just outside the village limits, and
the widow who lived there had to carry her water from the nearest
irrigation ditch. As Jane Withersteen entered the unfenced yard a
child saw her, shrieked with joy, and came tearing toward her
with curls flying. This child was a little girl of four called
Fay. Her name suited her, for she was an elf, a sprite, a
creature so fairy-like and beautiful that she seemed
unearthly.
"Muvver sended for oo," cried Fay, as Jane kissed her, "an' oo
never tome."
"I didn't know, Fay; but I've come now."
Fay was a child of outdoors, of the garden and ditch and field,
and she was dirty and ragged. But rags and dirt did not hide her
beauty. The one thin little bedraggled garment she wore half
covered her fine, slim body. Red as cherries were her cheeks and
lips; her eyes were violet blue, and the crown of her childish
loveliness was the curling golden hair. All the children of
Cottonwoods were Jane Withersteen's friends, she loved them all.
But Fay was dearest to her. Fay had few playmates, for among the
Gentile children there were none near her age, and the Mormon
children were forbidden to play with her. So she was a shy, wild,
lonely child.
"Muvver's sick," said Fay, leading Jane toward the door of the
hut.
Jane went in. There was only one room, rather dark and bare, but
it was clean and neat. A woman lay upon a bed.
"Mrs. Larkin, how are you?" asked Jane, anxiously.
"I've been pretty bad for a week, but I'm better now."
"You haven't been here all alone--with no one to wait on you?"
"Oh no! My women neighbors are kind. They take turns coming in."
"Did you send for me?"
"Yes, several times."
"But I had no word--no messages ever got to me."
"I sent the boys, and they left word with your women that I was
ill and would you please come."
A sudden deadly sickness seized Jane. She fought the weakness, as
she fought to be above suspicious thoughts, and it passed,
leaving her conscious of her utter impotence. That, too, passed
as her spirit rebounded. But she had again caught a glimpse of
dark underhand domination, running its secret lines this time
into her own household. Like a spider in the blackness of night
an unseen hand had begun to run these dark lines, to turn and
twist them about her life, to plait and weave a web. Jane
Withersteen knew it now, and in the realization further coolness
and sureness came to her, and the fighting courage of her
ancestors.
"Mrs. Larkin, you're better, and I'm so glad," said Jane. "But
may I not do something for you--a turn at nursing, or send you
things, or take care of Fay?"
"You're so good. Since my husband's been gone what would have
become of Fay and me but for you? It was about Fay that I wanted
to speak to you. This time I thought surely I'd die, and I was
worried about Fay. Well, I'll be around all right shortly, but my
strength's gone and I won't live long. So I may as well speak
now. You remember you've been asking me to let you take Fay and
bring her up as your daughter?"
"Indeed yes, I remember. I'll be happy to have her. But I hope
the day--"
"Never mind that. The day'll come--sooner or later. I refused
your offer, and now I'll tell you why."
"I know why," interposed Jane. "It's because you don't want her
brought up as a Mormon."
"No, it wasn't altogether that." Mrs. Larkin raised her thin hand
and laid it appealingly on Jane's. "I don't like to tell you.
But--it's this: I told all my friends what you wanted. They know
you, care for you, and they said for me to trust Fay to you.
Women will talk, you know. It got to the ears of Mormons--gossip
of your love for Fay and your wanting her. And it came straight
back to me, in jealousy, perhaps, that you wouldn't take Fay as
much for love of her as because of your religious duty to bring
up another girl for some Mormon to marry."
"That's a damnable lie!" cried Jane Withersteen.
"It was what made me hesitate," went on Mrs. Larkin, "but I never
believed it at heart. And now I guess I'll let you--"
"Wait! Mrs. Larkin, I may have told little white lies in my life,
but never a lie that mattered, that hurt any one. Now believe me.
I love little Fay. If I had her near me I'd grow to worship her.
When I asked for her I thought only of that love....Let me prove
this. You and Fay come to live with me. I've such a big house,
and I'm so lonely. I'll help nurse you, take care of you. When
you're better you can work for me. I'll keep little Fay and bring
her up--without Mormon teaching. When she's grown, if she should
want to leave me, I'll send her, and not empty-handed, back to
Illinois where you came from. I promise you."
"I knew it was a lie," replied the mother, and she sank back upon
her pillow with something of peace in her white, worn face. "Jane
Withersteen, may Heaven bless you! I've been deeply grateful to
you. But because you're a Mormon I never felt close to you till
now. I don't know much about religion as religion, but your God
and my God are the same."
More
-
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... The End Of The Trail
The rain slanted down in sheets and the broken plain, thoroughly saturated, held the water in pools or sent it down the steep sides of the arroyo, to feed the turbulent flood which swept along the bottom, foam-flecked and covered with swiftly moving... The Examination
The two years of Archibald Munro's regime were the golden age of the school, and for a whole generation "The Section" regarded that period as the standard for comparison in the following years. Munro had a genius for making his pupils work. They t... The Exposure
When Tom Dillon heard about the light that had been seen and the determination to walk to it, he wanted to know how far off it was. "If it's that close we had better all go," he announced, after being told. "If it's Abe Blower's camp it must be ... The Face Of Failure
AFTER the week's shower the low Iowa hills looked vividly green. At the base of the first range of hills the Blackhawk road winds from the city to the prairie. From its starting-point, just outside the city limits, the wayfarer may catch bird's-eye ... The Failure
When Black Bart returned without Joan, without even a note of answer about his neck, the master made ready to take by force. First he went over his new outfit of saddle and guns, looking to every strap of the former, and the latter, revolvers and ri... The Fall Of Balancing Rock
Through tear-blurred sight Jane Withersteen watched Venters and Elizabeth Erne and the black racers disappear over the ridge of sage. "They're gone!" said Lassiter. "An' they're safe now. An' there'll never be a day of their comin' ... The Fang Of The Wolf
"Well, yuh'd better get ready to take yore medicine," sneered the outlaw, his voice shaking with rage. "I'm goin' to make yuh crawl on yore hands and knees, Cotton-picker!" He holstered his gun, watching Kid Wolf cunningly, and drew back a littl...