The Dot Outfit
: Flying U RanchBefore 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 stood, Weary could not even
bring himself to let then know anything about his trouble--and that the
thing was beginning to assume the form and shape and general malevolent
Just at present an unthinking, unobserving person might pass over
this sheep outfit as a mere unsavory incident; but Weary was neither
unobserving nor unthinking--nor, for the matter of that, were the
rest of the Happy Family. It needed no Happy Jack, with his foreboding
nature, to point out the unpleasant possibilities that night when the
committee of two made their informal report at the supper table.
They had ridden to Denson coulee, which was in reality a meandering
branch of Flying U coulee itself. To reach it one rode out of Flying
U coulee and over a wide hill, and down again to Denson's. But the
creek--Flying U creek--followed the devious turnings from Denson coulee
down to the Flying U. A long mile of Flying U coulee J. G. Whitmore
owned outright. Another mile he held under no other title save a fence.
The creek flowed through it all--but that creek had its source somewhere
up near the head of Denson coulee. J. G. Whitmore had, to his regret,
been unable to claim the whole earth--or at least that portion of
it--for his own; so, when he was constrained to make a choice, he
settled himself in the wider, more fertile coulee, which he thereafter
called the Flying U. While it is good policy to locate as near as
possible to the source of those erratic little creeks which water
certain garden spots of the northern range land, it is also well to
choose land that will grow plenty of hay. J. G. Whitmore chose the hay
land, and trusted that providence would insure the water supply. Through
all these years Flying U creek had never once disappointed him. Denson,
who settled in the tributary coulee, had not made any difference in the
water supply, and his stock had consisted of thirty or forty head of
cattle and horses.
When Denson sold, however, things might be different. And, if he had
sold to a sheepman, the change might be unpleasant If he had sold to
Dunk Whittaker--the Flying U boys faced that possibility just as they
would face any other disaster, undaunted, but grim and unsmiling.
It was thus that Pink and Weary rode slowly down into Denson coulee. Two
miles back they had passed the band of Dot sheep, feeding leisurely
just without the Flying U fence, which was the southern boundary. The
bug-killer and the other were there, and they noted that the features
of that other bore witness to the truth of Andy's story of the fight. He
regarded them with one perfectly good eye and one which was considerably
swollen, and grinned a swollen grin.
The two had ridden ten paces past him when Pink pulled up suddenly. "I'm
going to get off and lick that son-of-a-gun myself, just for luck," he
stated dispassionately. "I'm going to lick 'em both," he revised while
he dismounted.
"Oh, come on, Cadwalloper," Weary dissuaded. "You'll likely have all the
excitement you need, without that."
"Here, you hold this fool cayuse. No." He shook his head, cutting short
further protest. "You're the boss, and you don't want to mix in, and
that part is all right. But I ain't responsible--and I sure am going
to take a fall or two out of these geesers. They're a-w-l together too
stuck on themselves to suit me." Pink did not say that he was thinking
of Andy, but nevertheless a vivid recollection of that unfortunate young
man's rope-creased wrists and swollen hands sent him toward the herder
with long, eager strides.
Pink was not tall, and he was slight and boyish of build; also, his
cherubic face, topped by tawny curls and lighted by eyes as deeply blue
and as innocent as a baby's, probably deceived that herder, just as
they had deceived many another. For Pink was a good deal like a stick
of dynamite wrapped in white tissue paper and tied with blue ribbon;
and Weary was not at all uneasy over the outcome, as he watched Pink go
clanking back, though he loved him well.
Pink did not waste any time or words on the preliminaries. With a
delightful frankness of purpose he pulled off his coat and threw it
on the ground, as he came up, sent his hat after it, and arrived fist
first.
The herder had waited grinning, and he had shouted something to Weary
about spanking the kid if Weary didn't make him behave. Speedily he
became a very surprised herder, and a distressed one as well.
"All right," Pink remarked, a little quick-breathed, when the herder
decided for the third time to get up. "A friend of mine worked yuh over
a little, this morning, and I just thought I'd make a better job than he
did. Your eyes didn't match. They will, now."
The herder mumbled maledictions after him, but Pink would not even give
him the satisfaction of resenting it.
"I'd like to have broken a knuckle against his teeth, darn him," he
observed ruefully when he was in the saddle again. "Come on, Weary. It
won't take but a minute to hand a punch or two to that bug-killer,
and then I'll feel better. They've both got it coming--come on!" This
because Weary showed a strong inclination to take the trail and keep it
to his destination. "Well, I'll go alone, then. I've got to kinda square
myself for the way I threw it into Andy; and you know blamed well,
Weary, they played it low-down on him, or they'd never have got that
rope on him. And I'm going to lick that--"
"Mamma! You sure are a rambunctious person when you feel that way,"
Weary made querulous comment; but he rode over with Pink to where the
bug-killer was standing with his long stick held in a somewhat menacing
manner, and once more he held Pink's horse for him.
Pink was gone longer this time, and he came back with a cut lip and a
large lump on his forehead; the bug-killer had thrown a small rock with
the precision which comes of much practice--such as stoning disobedient
dogs, and the like--and, when Pink rushed at him furiously, the herder
caught him very neatly alongside the head with his stick. These little
amenities serving merely to whet Pink's appetite for battle, he stopped
long enough to thrash that particular herder very thoroughly and to his
own complete satisfaction.
"Well, I guess I'm ready to go on now," he observed, dimpling rather
one-sidedly as he got back on his horse.
"I thought maybe you'd want to whip the dogs, too," Weary told him
dryly; which was the nearest he came to expressing any disapproval
of the incident. Weary was a peace-loving soul, whenever peace was
compatible with self-respect; and it would never have occurred to him to
punish strange men as summarily as Pink had done.
"I would, if the dogs were half as ornery as the men," Pink retorted.
"Say, they hang together like bull snakes and rattlers, don't they? If
they was human, they'd have helped each other out--but nothing doing! Do
you reckon a man could ride up to a couple of our bunch, and thrash one
at a time without the other fellow having something to say about it?" He
turned in the saddle and looked back. "So help me, Josephine, I've got a
good mind to go back and lick them again, for not hanging together like
they ought to." But the threat was an idle one, and they went on to
Denson's, Weary still with that anxious look in his eyes, and Pink quite
complacent over his exploit.
In Denson coulee was an unwonted atmosphere of activity; heretofore the
place had been animated chiefly by young Densons engaged in the pursuit
of pleasure, but now a covered buggy, evidently just arrived, bore mute
witness to the new order of things. There were more horses about the
place, a covered wagon or two, three or four men working upon the
corral, and, lastly, there was one whom Weary recognized the moment he
caught sight of him.
"Looks like a sheep outfit, all right," he said somberly. "And, if that
ain't old Dunk himself, it's the devil, and that's next thing to him."
Dunk, they judged, had just arrived with another man whom they did not
know: a tall man with light hair that hung lank to his collar, a thin,
sharp-nosed face and a wide mouth, which stretched easily into a smile,
but which was none the pleasanter for that. When he turned inquiringly
toward them they saw that he was stoop-shouldered; though not from any
deformity, but from sheer, slouching lankness. Dunk gave them a swift,
sour look from under his eyebrows and went on.
Weary rode straight past the lank man, whom he judged to be Oleson, and
overtook Dunk Whittaker himself.
"Hello, Dunk," he said cheerfully, sliding over in the saddle so that a
foot hung free of the stirrup, as men who ride much have learned to do
when they stop for a chat, thereby resting while they may. "Back on the
old stamping ground, are you?"
"Since you see me here, I suppose I am," Dunk made churlish response.
"Do you happen to own those Dot sheep, back there on the hill?" Weary
tilted his head toward home.
"I happen to own half of them." By then they had reached the gate and
Dunk passed through and started on to the house.
"Oh, don't be in a rush--come on back and be sociable," Weary called
out, in the mildest of tones, twisting the reins around his saddle-horn
so that he might roll a cigarette at ease.
Dunk remembered, perhaps, certain things he had learned when he was
J. G. Whitmore's partner, and had more or less to do with the charter
members of the Happy Family. He came back and stood by the gate,
ungraciously enough, to be sure; still, he came back. Weary smiled under
cover of lighting his cigarette. Dunk, by that reluctant compliance,
betrayed something which Weary had been rather anxious to know.
"We've been having a little trouble with those sheep of yours," Weary
remarked between puffs. "You've got some poor excuses for humans herding
them. They drove the bunch across our coulee just exactly three times.
There ain't enough grass left in our lower field to graze a prairie
dog." He glanced back to see where Pink was, saw that he was close
behind, as was the lank man, and spoke in a tone that included them all.
"The Flying U ain't pasturing sheep, this spring," he informed them
pleasantly. "But, seeing the grass is eat up, we'll let yuh pay for it.
Why didn't you bring them in along the trail, anyway?"
"I didn't bring them in. I just came down from Butte to-day. I suppose
the herders brought them out where the feed was best; they did if
they're worth their wages."
"They happened to strike some feed that was pretty expensive. And,"
he smiled down at Whittaker misleadingly, "you ought to keep an eye
on those herders, or they might let you in for another grass bill. The
Flying U has got quite a lot of range, right around here, you recollect.
And we've got plenty of cattle to eat it. We don't need any help to keep
the grass down so we can ride through it."
"Now, look here," began the lank man with that sort of persuasiveness
which can turn instantly into bluster, "all this is pure foolishness,
you know. We're here to stay. We've bought this place, and some other
land to go with it, and we expect to stay right here and make a living.
It happens that we expect to make a living off of sheep. Now, we don't
want to start in by quarreling with our neighbors, and we don't want our
neighbors to start any quarrel with us. All we want--"
"Mamma! You're taking a fine way to make us love yuh," Weary cut in
ironically. "I know what you want. You want the same as every other meek
and lovely sheepman wants. You want it all--core, seeds and peeling.
Dunk," he said with a more impatient disgust than he was in the habit
of showing for his fellowmen, "this man's a stranger; but I should think
you'd know better than to come in here with sheep."
"I don't know why a sheep outfit isn't exactly as good as a cow outfit,
and I don't know why they haven't as much right here. You're welcome to
what land you own, but it always seemed to me that public land is open
to the use of the public. Now, as Oleson says, we expect to raise sheep
here, and we expect your outfit to leave us alone. As far as our sheep
crossing your coulee is concerned--I don't know that they did. But, if
they did, and, if they did any damage, let J. G. do the talking about
that. I deal with the owners--not with the hired men."
Weary, you must understand, was never a bellicose young man. But, for
all that, he leaned over and gave Dunk a slap on the jaw which must have
stung considerably--and the full reason for his violence lay four years
behind the two, when Dunk was part owner of the Flying U, and when his
sneering arrogance had been very hard to endure.
"Are you going to swallow that--from a hired man?" Weary inquired,
after a minute during which nothing whatever occurred beyond the slow
reddening of Dunk's face.
"I'm not going to fight, if that's what you mean," Dunk sneered. "I
decline to bring myself down to your level. One doesn't expect anything
from a jackass but a bray, you know--and one doesn't feel compelled to
bray because the jackass does." He smiled that supercilious smile which
Weary had hated of old, and which, he knew, was well used to covering
much treachery and small meannesses of various sorts.
"As I said, if the Flying U has any claim against us, let the owner
present it in the usual way." Dunk drew down his black brows, lifted a
corner of his lip and turned his back deliberately upon them.
Oleson let himself through the gate, which he closed somewhat hastily
behind him. "I'm sorry you fellows seem to want to make trouble," he
said, without looking up from the latch, which seemed somewhat out of
repair, like the rest of the Denson property. "That's a poor way
to start in with new neighbors." He lifted his hat with what Pink
considered insulting politeness, and followed Dunk into the house.
Weary waited there until they had gone in and closed the door, then
turned and rode back home again, frowning thoughtfully at the trail
ahead of them all the way, and making no reply to Pink's importunings
for war.
"I'd hate to say you've lost your nerve, Weary," Pink cried at last, in
sheer desperation. "But why the devil didn't you get down and thump the
daylights out of that black son-of-a-gun? I came pretty near walking
into him myself, only I hate to butt into another fellow's scrap. But,
if I'd known you were going to set there and let him walk off with that
sneer on his face--"
"I can't fight a man that won't hit back," Weary protested. "You
couldn't either, Cadwalloper. You'd have done just what I did; you'd
have let him go."
"He will hit back, all right enough," Pink retorted passionately. "He'll
do it when you ain't looking, though. He--"
"I know it," Weary sighed. "I'm kinda sorry, now, I slapped him. He'll
hit back--but he won't hit me; he'll aim at the outfit. If the Old Man
was here, or Chip, I'd feel a whole lot easier in my mind."
"They couldn't do anything you can't do," Pink assured him loyally,
forgetting his petulance when he saw the careworn look in Weary's
face. "All they can do is gobble all the range around here--and I guess
there's a few of us that will have a word or two to say about that."
"What makes me sore," Weary confided, "is knowing that Dunk isn't
thinking altogether of the dollar end of it. He's tickled to death to
get a whack at the outfit. And I hate to see him get away with it; but I
guess we'll have to stand for it."
That sentiment did not please Pink; nor, when Weary repeated it later
that evening in the bunk-house, did it please the Happy Family. The less
pleasing it was because it was perfectly true and every man of them knew
it. Beyond keeping the sheep off Flying U land, there was nothing they
could do without stepping over the line into lawlessness--and, while
they were not in any sense a meek Happy Family, they were far more
law-abiding than their conversation that night made them appear.
More
-
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... The Fence
When Hopalong rode in at midnight to arouse the others and send them out to relieve Skinny and his two companions, the cattle were quieter than he had expected to leave them, and he could see no change of weather threatening. He was asleep when the ... The Fever Manifests Itself
There is a certain malady of the mind induced by too much of one thing. Just as the body fed too long upon meat becomes a prey to that horrid disease called scurvy, so the mind fed too long upon monotony succumbs to the insidious mental ailment which t... The Fifth Man
The moment Vic Gregg stood in the open air, with the last appeal of Betty ringing still at his ear, he felt a profound conviction that he was about to die and he stood a moment breathing deeply, taking the faint alkali scent of the dust and looking ... The Fight
There were three spots of white in the dim saloon, the faces of Stewart, Lorrimer, and old Lew Perkins, and at the feet of Vic grew a spot of red. Knowing with calm surety that no hand would lift against him even if he turned his back, he walked out... The Fight
Herky hauled me out of the brush, and held me in the light. The others scrambled from under the remains of the loft, and all viewed me curiously. "Kid, you ain't hurt much?" queried Buell, with concern. I would have snapped out a reply, but I c... The Fight
"The boss is sure a she-wolf at playin' a lone hand," growled Barkwell, shortly after dusk, to Jud Weaver, the straw boss. "Seems he thinks his friends is delicate ornaments which any use would bust to smithereens. Here's his outfit layin' around,... The Fight Goes On
It is amazing how quickly life swings back to the normal after even so harrowing an experience as had come to the Flying U. Tragedy had hovered there a while and had turned away with a smile, and the smile was reflected upon the faces and in the eye... The Fight On The Ledge
In that instant of supreme horror, Mary Thorne found time to be thankful that terror struck her momentarily dumb. For now, with lips parted and a cry of warning trembling there, she saw that it was too late. Like a pointer freezing to the scent, L... The Final Round
After the New-Year the school filled up with big boys, some of whom had returned with the idea of joining the preparatory class for college, which the minister had persuaded John Craven to organize. Shinny, however, became the absorbing interest... The First Blow In The Fight
Letters went speeding to Irish and Jack Bates, absent members of the Happy Family of the Flying U; letters that explained the situation with profane completeness, set forth briefly the plan of the proposed pool, and which importuned them to come hom... The First Clew
"Let's see!" Trowbridge reined in his horse and meditated, when he and Dorothy had covered several miles of their ride back to Crawling Water. "Jensen was shot around here somewhere, wasn't he?" "I think it was over there." She pointed with her ... The First Day
In the wake of Hawks Bob rode through the buckbrush. There was small chance for conversation, and in any case neither of them was in the mood for talk. Bob's sensitive soul did not want to risk the likelihood of a rebuff. He was susceptible to atm... The First Round
The challenge from the Front was for the best two out of three, the first game to be played the last day of the year. Steadily, under Craven's coaching, the Twentieth team were perfected in their systematic play; for although Craven knew nothing o... The First Stages
For a month Bud worked and forced himself to cheerfulness, and tried to forget. Sometimes it was easy enough, but there were other times when he must get away by himself and walk and walk, with his rifle over his shoulder as a mild pretense that he was...