Harlan Joins The Gang
: 'drag' HarlanAt the edge of the big level, where it merged into the floor of the
basin, Harlan drew Purgatory to a halt. For an instant he sat in the
saddle scrutinizing a section of buffalo grass that fringed a clump of
willows near the almost dry bed of the river that doubled slightly as it
came from the basin. Something in the appearance of the grass had
attracted his attention--it was matted, as though something had lain or
rol
He rode closer, cautiously, for the little trees formed a covert behind
which any one of several dangers might lie concealed--and looked down at
the grass. As he examined the place his lips twisted into a grim smile,
and his eyes grew bright with comprehension.
He rode around the clump of trees, making sure it was not occupied; then
he dismounted.
Someone had been concealed in the covert for many days--a man. For he saw
the imprints of heels, and indentations where spurs had gashed the earth.
The marks were all fresh--recently made. While he watched he saw some
blades of the long grass slowly rise--as though, relieved from some
pressure that had been upon them, they were eager to regain an upright
position. He also saw scraps of food--jerked beef and biscuit--scattered
here and there.
He frowned, convinced that for days a man had occupied the covert,
watching the Rancho Seco; convinced also, that the mystery he had sensed
some days ago had been man-made, as he had felt. The man who had been
there had been a sentinel, a spy, sent by Deveny or Haydon to observe his
movements, and to report them, of course, to one or the other of the two
outlaws.
Harlan remounted Purgatory. His caution had not been wasted, and his
vigilance in guarding the ranchhouse must have been irritating to the man
who had been watching.
He urged Purgatory on again--heading him westward, as before. And when he
reached the crest of a slight rise in the valley--from where he could see
the trail as it twisted and undulated around hills and into depressions--he
saw, far up the valley--and yet not so far, either--not more than two
miles--a horseman, riding slowly--away from him.
The horseman was the spy, of course. Harlan had no doubt that if he
lingered in the vicinity of the covert long enough he would discover the
place where the horse had been concealed. But that was not important, now
that he had discovered enough to satisfy himself that there had been a
spy--and so he rode on, smiling faintly, knowing that the rider was
headed into the valley--possibly to the outlaw rendezvous to appraise
Deveny and the others of his coming.
The trail was clearly defined, and there were places where it ran over
broad levels of grass where he presented a good target to men who might
be eager to send a shot at him. There were other spots where the trail
led into timber clumps and through tangles of brush where an ambuscade
might be planned in perfect safety by an enemy; and there were the
bastioned cliffs that towered above the trail at intervals, offering
admirable hinding-places for any man with hostile intentions.
Harlan, however, rode steadily, outwardly unconcerned; inwardly convinced
that no attempt would be made to ambush him. For Haydon has passed that
way on his return to the Star, and Harlan had no doubt that since the
incident of the smile and the wink, Haydon had passed word that he was
not to be molested.
Haydon would be curious--as he had been curious at the Rancho Seco--to
learn the significance of the smile and the wink. Haydon would want to
discover just how much Harlan knew about the murder of Lane Morgan; and
he would want to know what Harlan knew of the gold that Morgan had
secreted. And so Harlan rode on, watching the country through which he
passed, but feeling assured there would be no shot to greet him from one
of the many natural vantage-points he encountered.
He rode for an hour, not making very good time, for it was a new trail,
and he was examining the country intently as he passed, fixing it in his
memory for future convenience, perhaps--no one ever knew just when it
might be necessary to use one's knowledge--when he reached a low ridge
which crossed the valley.
Here he halted Purgatory and gazed about him.
Before him stretched a green grass level, about two miles long, running
the entire width of the valley. It was dotted with mesquite, sage, and
here and there the thorny blade of a cactus rose. Some cattle were
grazing on the level; they were several miles south, and he could see
some horsemen near them.
He decided he must be close to the Star; and he urged Purgatory on again,
down upon the level, toward some timber that grew at the farther edge of
the level. Just as he slipped down the slope of the ridge, he saw, far
ahead of him, the horseman he had seen when he had entered the valley.
The horseman was on the crest of a bald hill--low, and small--but Harlan
caught a glimpse of him as he crossed it, riding fast.
Harlan smiled again, and rode on his way, resuming his scrutiny of the
country.
The valley was mighty, magnificent; it deserved all the praise Barbara
Morgan had heaped upon it. From the low mountain range on the north to
the taller mountains southward, it was a virgin paradise in which reigned
a peace so profound that it brought a reverent awe into the soul of the
beholder.
It thrilled Harlan despite the certain blase, matter-of-fact attitude he
had for all of nature's phenomena; he found himself admiring the majestic
buttes that fringed it; there was a glint of appreciation in his eyes for
the colossal bigness of it--for the gigantic, sweeping curves which
seemed to make of it an oblong bowl, a cosmic hollow, boundless, hinting
of the infinite power of its builder.
The trail that ran through it, drawled to threadlike proportions by the
mightiness of the space through which it ran, was, for the greater part
of the distance traveled by Harlan, a mere scratch upon a low rock ridge.
And as he rode he could look down upon the floor of the valley, green and
inviting.
When he entered the timber at the edge of the grass level, he was
conscious of a stealthy sound behind him. He turned quickly in the
saddle, to see a man standing at the edge of some brush that fringed the
trail.
The man was big, a heavy black beard covered his chin and portions of his
cheeks; his hat was drawn well down over his forehead, partially
shielding his eyes.
A rifle in his hands was held loosely, and though it appeared that the
man did not intend to use the weapon immediately, Harlan could see that
his right forefinger was touching the trigger, and that the muzzle of the
weapon was suggestively toward him.
For the past few miles of his ride Harlan had been expecting an
apparition of this sort to appear, and so he now gave no sign of
surprise. Instead, he slowly raised both hands until they were on a level
with his shoulders--and, still twisted about in the saddle, he grinned
faintly at the man.
"From now on I'm to have company, eh?" he said.
The man smirked grimly at him.
"You've hit it," he answered. "You're Harlan, ain't you? 'Drag' Harlan,
the Pardo two-gun man?"
The man's eyes were glowing with interest--critical, almost cynical, and
they roved over Harlan with a probing intensity that left no doubt in
Harlan's mind that the man had heard of him and was examining him with
intent to discover what sort of a character he was.
Apparently satisfied--and also plainly impressed with what he saw, the
man grinned--this time almost genially--and answered Harlan's affirmative
nod with:
"Well, Haydon is expectin' you. You c'n let your paws down--takin' a heap
of care not to go to foolin' with your guns. I ain't takin' them; Haydon
didn't say anything about it. You're ridin' that trail that forks off to
the left."
Harlan lowered his hands, resting them on the pommel of his saddle, and
rode on, taking, as advised, a narrow trail that diverged from the other
a short distance from where he had met the man. As he struck the other
trail he heard the man coming behind him--on a horse.
There were no further words. Harlan kept to the trail, riding slowly; the
man behind him following at a short distance.
In this manner they rode for perhaps a mile. Then the timber grew sparse,
and Purgatory and his rider at last emerged upon a level that extended
about a hundred feet and then sloped down abruptly to another level,
through which flowed a narrow stream of water, shallow and clear.
Close to the bank of the stream was an adobe ranchhouse, and surrounding
it were several other buildings. At a slight distance from the house was
a corral in which were several horses. In front of a bunkhouse were
several men who, when they saw Harlan and the other man coming, faced
toward them and stood, motionless, watching.
The men maintained silence as Harlan rode to the ranchhouse and sat in
the saddle, awaiting the pleasure of his escort. He saw the latter grin
at the other men as he passed them; and he grinned at Harlan as he
brought his horse to a halt near Purgatory and dismounted.
"I reckon you're to git off an' visit," he said; "Haydon is inside." As
he dismounted and trailed the reins over the head of his beast he cast a
sharp, critical eye over Purgatory.
"There's a heap of hoss in that black, eh?"
"Plenty." Harlan got down and ran a hand over Purgatory's neck, while
trailing the reins over his head. "Man-killer," he warned. "Don't touch
him. He ain't been rode by nobody but me, an' he won't stand for nobody
foolin' around him."
Harlan had raised his voice until he was sure the men in front of the
bunkhouse heard him; then he grinned genially at them all and followed
the black-bearded man into the ranchhouse.
An instant later, in a big room which had the appearance of an office,
Harlan was confronting Haydon.
The latter was sitting in a chair at a desk, and when Harlan entered
Haydon got up and grinned at him, shallowly, without mirth.
"So you got here," he said; "I've been expecting you."
"I've been notin' that. That guy you left at the edge of the level to
keep an eye on the Rancho Seco didn't cover his tracks. I run onto
them--an' I saw him hittin' the breeze--comin' here. I reckon nobody is
surprised." Harlan grinned widely.
"So you noticed that," said Haydon, answering Harlan's grin. "Well, I
don't mind admitting that we've kept an eye on you. You've had me
guessing."
Haydon's manner was that of the man who is careful not to say too much,
his constraint was of the quality that hints of a desire to become
confidential--a smooth, bland courtesy; a flattering voice--encouraging,
suggesting frankness.
Harlan's manner was that of a certain reckless carelessness. He seemed to
be perfectly at ease, confident, deliberate, and unwatchful. He knew
Haydon was an outlaw; that the men who had been grouped in front of the
bunkhouse were members of Haydon's band; he knew the man who had escorted
him to the Star had been deliberately stationed in the timber to watch
for him. And he had no doubt that other outlaws had lain concealed along
the trail to observe his movements.
He knew, too, that he had placed himself in a precarious predicament--that
his life was in danger, and that he must be exceedingly careful.
Yet outwardly he was cool, composed. With Haydon's eyes upon him he drew
a chair to a point near the desk, seated himself in it, drew out paper
and tobacco, and rolled a cigarette. Lighting it, he puffed slowly,
watching while Haydon dropped into the chair he had vacated at Harlan's
appearance.
When Haydon dropped into his chair he grinned admiringly at Harlan.
"You're a cool one, Harlan," he said; "I've got to say that for you. But
there's no use in four-flushing. You've come here to tell me something
about the chain. Where did you find it?"
"At Sentinel Rock--not far from where you plugged Lane Morgan."
"You're assuming that I shot Morgan?" charged Haydon.
"Morgan was assumin', too, I reckon," grinned Harlan. "He told me it was
you who shot him--he saw your face by the flash of your gun. An' he told
me where to look for the chain--him not knowin' it was a chain--but
somethin'."
Haydon's eyes gleamed with a cold rage--which he concealed by passing a
hand over his forehead, veiling his eyes from Harlan. His lips were
wreathed in a smile.
"Why didn't you tell me that the other day--the first time I met you?"
Harlan laughed. "I was havin' notions then--notions that I'd be playin'
her a lone hand."
"And now?" Haydon's eyes were steady with cold inquiry.
"I've got other notions. I'm acceptin' Deveny's invitation to throw in
with you."
Haydon was silent for an instant, and during the silence his gaze met
Harlan's fairly. By the humorous gleam in Harlan's eyes Haydon divined
that the man could not be misled--that he knew something of the situation
in the valley, and that he had come here with the deliberate intention of
joining the outlaw band.
There was, as Haydon had intimated, little use for an attempt at
equivocation or pretense. It was a situation that must be faced squarely
by both himself and Harlan. Harlan's reputation, and his action in
keeping secret from Barbara Morgan the identity of her father's murderer,
indicated sincerity on the man's part. And since Harlan knew him to be
the murderer of Morgan it would be absurd for Haydon to pretend that he
had no connection with Deveny's band. He could not fool this man.
Yet a jealous hatred of Harlan was thinly concealed by the steady smile
with which he regarded his visitor. He had felt the antagonism of Harlan
that day when he had talked with him at the bunkhouse door; Harlan's
manner that day had convinced him that Harlan was jealous of his
attentions to Barbara Morgan. Also, there was in his heart a professional
jealousy--jealousy of Harlan's reputation.
For this man who sat in his chair so calmly, with danger encompassing
him, was greater than he. Haydon knew it. Had there been any doubt in his
mind on that score it must have been removed by a memory of the manner in
which his men had received the news that Harlan had left the Rancho Seco
and was on his way up the valley.
The rider Harlan had seen had come in with that news--and Haydon had been
standing with the group at the bunkhouse when the man arrived. And he had
not failed to note the nervous glances of some of the men, and the
restless eagerness, not unmixed with anxiety, with which they watched the
trail.
And now, facing Harlan, he felt the man's greatness--his especial fitness
for the career he had adopted. Harlan was the ideal outlaw. He was cool,
deep, subtle. He was indomitable; he felt no fear; his will was
inflexible, adamant. Haydon felt it. The fear he had experienced at his
first meeting with Harlan had endured until this minute--it was strong as
ever.
Yet he admired the man; and knew that since he had come to the valley he
must be considered an important factor. Haydon could not flatly tell him
to get out of the valley; he could not order him away from the Rancho
Seco. Harlan was in control there--for the rider who had come in with the
news that Harlan had set out for the valley had also apprised Haydon of
the coming, to the Rancho Seco, of the men of the T Down outfit.
The rider had not been able to tell Haydon who the men were, of course;
but it made little difference. They were friends of Harlan's, for they
had come from the direction of the desert--from Pardo.
It was plain to Haydon that Harlan had come to the valley to stay. It was
equally plain that he must be either propitiated or antagonized. He felt
that Harlan was giving him his choice.
"What do you want--if you throw in with us?" Haydon asked, following the
trend of his own thoughts.
"That's straight talk," said Harlan. "I'm givin' you a straight answer.
If I join your bunch I join on the same footing with you an'
Deveny--nothin' less. We split everything three ways--the other boys
takin' their regular share after we take ours. I bring my boys in under
the rules you've got that govern the others. I run the Rancho Seco--no
one interferin'. When I rustle up that gold old Morgan hid, we split it
three ways. Barbara Morgan goes with the ranch--no one interferin'."
Color surged into Haydon's face.
"You don't want much, do you?" he sneered.
"I want what's comin' to me--what I'm goin' to take, if I come in. That's
my proposition. You can take it or leave it."
Haydon was silent for an instant, studying Harlan's face. What he saw
there brought a frown to his own.
"Harlan," he said softly, "some of the boys feel a little resentful over
the way you sent Dolver and Laskar out. There are several friends of
those two men outside now. Suppose I should call them in and tell them
that the bars are down on you--eh?"
If Haydon expected his threat to intimidate Harlan, he was mistaken.
Harlan sat, motionless, watching the outlaw chief steadily. And into his
eyes came a glitter of that cold contempt which Haydon had seen in them
on the day he had faced Harlan near the bunkhouse at the Rancho Seco.
"You're doin' the honors, Haydon," he said. "If you're that kind of a
coyote I don't want to deal with you. If you think you want to pass up a
share of that hundred thousand, start yappin' to them boys. It's likely
there's some of them hangin' around, close. Mebbe you've got some of them
peekin' around corners at me now. I ain't runnin' from no trouble that
comes my way. Get goin' if you're yearnin' to requisition the mourners."
Rage over the threat was now plain in his eyes, for they were aflame with
a cold fire as he got up from his chair and stood, crouching a little,
his hands lingering near the butts of his guns.
Haydon did not move, but his face grew pallid and he smiled nervously,
with shallow mirth.
"You are not in a joking mood today, Harlan?" he said.
"There's jokes, an' jokes, Haydon. I've come here in good faith. I've
been in camps like this before--in Kelso's, Dave Rance's, Blondy
Larkin's, an' some others. Them men are outlaws--like you an' me; an'
they've done things that make them greater than you an' me--in our line.
But I've visited them, free an' easy--goin' an' comin' whenever I
pleased. An' no man threatenin' me.
"Your manners is irritatin' to me--I'm tellin' you so. I'm through!
You're takin' me out, now--back to the Rancho Seco. You're ridin' behind
me--minus your guns, your mouth shut tighter than you ever shut it
before. An' if there's any shootin' you'll know it--plenty!"
Harlan had brought matters to a crisis--suddenly, in a flash. The time
for pretense had gone. Haydon could accept Harlan upon the terms he had
mentioned, or he could take up the man's challenge with all it
implied--bitter warfare between the two factions, which would be
unprofitable to both, and especially to Haydon.
It was for Haydon to decide; and he sat for some seconds motionless in
the chair, before he spoke.
Then he got up--taking care to keep his right hand at a respectable
distance from the butt of his pistol, and smilingly held out his hand.
"It goes your way, Harlan--we take you in on your terms. I beg your
pardon for saying what I did. That was just to try you out. I've heard a
lot about you, and I wanted to see if you were in earnest--if you really
wanted to come in. I'm satisfied."
They shook hands; their gaze meeting as they stood close together. The
gaze endured for an instant; and then Haydon's fell. The handshake lasted
for several seconds, and it was curious to see how Haydon's eyes, after
they had become veiled from Harlan's by the drooping lids, glowed with a
malignant triumph and cunning.
It was also curious to note that something of the same passion was
revealed in Harlan's eyes as they rested on the partially closed lids of
the other--for there was triumph there, too--and comprehension, and craft
of a kind that might have disturbed Haydon, had he seen it.
Then their hands parted, mutually, and Haydon grinned smoothly and with
apparent cordiality at Harlan. He grasped Harlan by an elbow and urged
him toward the door through which the latter had entered.
"I'll give you a knockdown to the boys, now--those that are here," he
said.
An hour later--after Haydon and the dozen men to whom he had introduced
Harlan had watched Harlan ride eastward through the valley toward the
Rancho Seco--Haydon rode westward, accompanied by several of the men.
They rode for many miles into the heart of the big basin, coming at last
to a gorge that wound a serpentine way southward, through some concealing
hills, into a smaller basin. A heavy timber clump grew at the mouth of
the gorge, hiding it from view from the trail that ran through the
valley. Some rank underbrush that fringed the timber gave the mouth of
the gorge the appearance of a shallow cave, and a wall of rock, forming a
ragged arch over the entrance, heightened the impression. At first glance
the place seemed to be impenetrable.
But the horsemen filed through easily enough, and the underbrush closed
behind them, so that, had they been seen, the watcher might have been
startled by their sudden disappearance.
Near the center of the little basin stood a huge cabin, built of adobe,
with a flat roof. In a small corral were a number of cattle. Grazing upon
the grass, with which the place was carpeted, were many horses; and
lounging in the grass near the cabin, and upon some benches that ranged
its walls, were perhaps a dozen men, heavily armed.
Several of the men grinned as the newcomers rode in and dismounted, and
one or two spoke a short greeting to Haydon, calling him "Chief."
Haydon did not linger to talk with the men, though; he dismounted and
entered the cabin, where, an instant later, he was talking with Deveny.
Haydon's eyes were still triumphant--glowing with a malignant
satisfaction.
"He's wise--and dead tickled to join," he told Deveny, referring to
Harlan. "And I took him in on his own terms. We'll play him along, making
him believe he's regular and right, until we get what we want. Then we'll
down him!"
* * * * *
At about the time Haydon was talking with Deveny, Harlan was dismounting
at the Rancho Seco corral.
The T Down men were variously engaged--some of them in the corral; others
in the stable, and still others in the blacksmith-shop--all attending to
their new duties--and only Red Linton was at the corral gate to greet
Harlan.
Triumph was in Harlan's eyes as he grinned at Linton.
"I'm a Simon-pure outlaw now, Red," he stated. "Haydon didn't hesitate
none. He's a sneakin', schemin' devil, an' he hates me like poison. But
he took me in, reckonin' to play me for a sucker. Looks like things might
be interestin'." He grinned. "I'm yearnin' for grub, Red."
Later, while Harlan was seated at a table in the cook shanty, he became
aware of a shadow at the door; and he wheeled, to see Barbara Morgan
looking in at him, her face flushed, a glow in her eyes that was entirely
comprehensible to Harlan.
She was glad he had returned--any man with half Harlan's wisdom could
have told that! And color of a kind not caused by the wind and sun
suffused Harlan's face.
She had seen him from one of the kitchen windows, and curiosity--and an
impatience that would not permit of delay--had brought her to search for
him.
"Why," she said, "I--I thought--didn't you say that you were going away?"
"Didn't I go?" he grinned.
"For a day," she taunted, her voice leaping.
"A day," he said gravely; "why, it was longer than that, wasn't it? Seems
that I ain't seen you for years an' years!"
He got up, his hunger forgotten. But when he reached the door he saw her
running toward the ranchhouse, not even looking back. He stood watching
her until she opened a door and vanished. Then he grinned and returned to
his neglected food, saying aloud, after the manner of men who spend much
time in open places: "I'll sure take care of her, Morgan."
More
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Motionless in his saddle, save for an occasional restless stamp of his horse, Bud Jessup waited patiently in front of the adobe shack at Las Vegas camp. His face was serious and thoughtful, and his glance was fixed on the open door through which c... Good Enough
"Alf" Banule, the electrical genius for whom Jennings had sent to help him rewind an armature and who therefore had taken Jennings's place as constructing engineer, had the distinction of being the only person Bruce had ever seen who could remove ... Good Indian
There is a saying--and if it is not purely Western, it is at least purely American--that the only good Indian is a dead Indian. In the very teeth of that, and in spite of the fact that he was neither very good, nor an Indian--nor in any sense "dead"... Good News
Pink rolled over in his bed so that he might look--however sleepily--upon his fellows, dressing more or less quietly in the cool dawn-hour. "Say, I got a letter for you, Weary," he yawned, stretching both arms above his head. "I opened it and rea... Grandmother Stark
Except for its chair and bed, the cabin was stripped almost bare. Amid its emptiness of dismantled shelves and walls and floor, only the tiny ancestress still hung in her place, last token of the home that had been. This miniature, tacked against ... Gray Envelopes
It was with more than the usual sinking of heart that Jasper let himself that evening into the beautiful house which Betty and he called their home. Joan's too expressive look had stung the old soreness of his disillusionment. He knew that the hou... Grey Molly
If her soul had been capable of enthusiasm, Marne could have made the trip on schedule time, but she was a burro good for nothing except to carry a pack well nigh half her own weight, live on forage that might have starved a goat, and smell water fi... Guardian Angels Are Riding Point
They plunged into darkness again, rode at a half trot over smooth, hard sand, Bud trusting himself wholly to Marian and to the sagacity of the two horses who could see, he hoped, much better than he himself could. His keen hearing had caught a faint... Guile Against The Wily
Bud liked to have his life run along accustomed lines with a more or less perfect balance of work and play, friendships and enmities. He had grown up with the belief that any mystery is merely a synonym for menace. He had learned to be wary of known... Hail And Farewell
Supper was served in the inner room opening from the corridor lit by a few swinging lanterns of polished horn and a dozen wax candles of sacerdotal size and suggestion. The apartment, though spacious, was low and crypt-like, and was not relieved b... Hands Up
Melissy had been up the Can del Oro for wild poppies in her runabout and had just reached the ranch. She was disposing of her flowers in ollas when Jim Budd, waiter, chambermaid, and odd jobs man at the Bar Double G, appeared in the hall with a fr... Hank's Woman
I Many fish were still in the pool; and though luck seemed to have left me, still I stood at the end of the point, casting and casting my vain line, while the Virginian lay and watched. Noonday's extreme brightness had left the river and the pl... Happy Jack
Big Medicine, Irish and Pink, racing almost abreast, heard a scream behind them and pulled up their horses with short, stiff-legged plunges. A brown horse overtook them; a brown horse, with Happy Jack clinging to the saddle-horn, his body swaying fa... Harlan Joins The Gang
At the edge of the big level, where it merged into the floor of the basin, Harlan drew Purgatory to a halt. For an instant he sat in the saddle scrutinizing a section of buffalo grass that fringed a clump of willows near the almost dry bed of the ... Harlan Rides Alone
Upon the morning of the fourth day following Haydon's visit to the Rancho Seco, a dust cloud developed on the northwestern horizon. Harlan observed the cloud; he had been watching for it since dawn, when he had emerged from the stable door, where ... Harlan Strikes
Joe Barr laughingly replied to Johnny Nelson's growled remarks about the condition of things in general and tried to soothe him, but Johnny was unsoothable. "An' I've been telling him right along that he's got the best of it," complained Jackson ... Harlan Takes Charge
Barbara could not have told why she had not acted upon her determination to ride westward to the Star ranch to acquaint John Haydon with the predicament into which the events of the past few hours had plunged her. She could not have explained why ... Harley Makes A Proposition
Apparently the head of the great trust intended to lose no time in having that business talk with Ridgway, which he had graciously promised the latter. Eaton and his chief were busy over some applications for leases when Smythe came into the room wi... Harley Scores
What Harley had sought in the subornation of Eaton had been as much the moral effect of his defection as the tangible results themselves. If he could shake the confidence of the city and State in the freebooter's victorious star, he would have done ... Harry Conroy At Home
It was late next morning when they got under way; for they had not reached camp until long after midnight, and Wooden Shoes was determined the cattle should have one good feed, and all the water they wanted, to requite them for the hard drive of the... Harry Lossing
THE note-book of Mr. Horatio Armorer, president of our street railways, contained a page of interest to some people in our town, on the occasion of his last visit. He wrote it while the train creaked over the river, and the porter of his Pullman ... Head South And Keep Going
At a lunch wagon down near the water front, Bud stopped and bought two "hot dog" sandwiches and a mug of hot coffee boiled with milk in it and sweetened with three cubes of sugar. "O-oh, boy!" he ejaculated gleefully when he set his teeth into biscuit ... Held Up By Mr Kelly
"'Traveler, what lies over the hill?'" questioned a mischievous voice. Keith, dreaming along a winding, rock-strewn trail in the canyon, looked up quickly and beheld his Heart's Desire sitting calmly upon her horse, ten feet before Redcloud's no... Her Majesty's Rancho
FIVE months brought all that Stillwell had dreamed of, and so many more changes and improvements and innovations that it was as if a magic touch had transformed the old ranch. Madeline and Alfred and Florence had talked over a fitting name, and had ... Her Name Was Rosemary
Andy Green came in from a twenty-hour ride through the Wolf Butte country and learned that another disaster had followed on the heels of the first; that miss Allen had been missing for thirty-six hours. While he bolted what food was handiest in the ... Hidden Valley
Across the desert into the hills, where the sun was setting in a great splash of crimson in the saddle between two distant peaks, a bunch of cows trailed heavily. Their tongues hung out and they panted for water, stretching their necks piteously to ... High And Dry
The counsel to don a garb smacking less of the recent East struck me as sound; for although I was not the only person here in Eastern guise, nevertheless about the majority of the populace there was an easy aggressiveness that my appearance eviden... High-water Mark
When the tide was out on the Dedlow Marsh, its extended dreariness was patent. Its spongy, low-lying surface, sluggish, inky pools, and tortuous sloughs, twisting their slimy way, eel-like, toward the open bay, were all hard facts. So were the few... Higher Than Statute Law
Wade descended the stairs of the hotel and went into the barroom, fuming with rage and chagrin because Helen had seen him in such a temper. Like most men of action, he took pride in his self-control, which seldom failed him, but the villainy of th... His Only Asset
It would be a pleasure to record that Capital found Bruce's personality so irresistible that his need of funds met with instant response, that the dashing picturesqueness of his appearance and charm of his unconventional speech and manner was so f... His Shadow Before
At ten o'clock the following morning, in a rear room of "Balleau's First Chance" saloon--which was directly across the street from the Lamo Eating-House--Luke Deveny and two other men were sitting at a card-table with bottle and glasses between th... His Stock In Trade
"The science of salesmanship is quite as exact as the science of astronomy," said Mr. Gross, casting his eyes down the table to see that he had the attention of the other boarders, "and much more intricate. The successful salesman is as much an ar... Holding The Claim
"Oh, we're that gang from th' O-Bar-O," hummed Waffles, sinking the branding-iron in the flank of a calf. The scene was one of great activity and hilarity. Several fires were burning near the huge corral and in them half a dozen irons were getti... Homing Hearts
Jack Kilmeny had not been brought up in the dry sunbaked West for nothing. The winds of the Rockies had entered into his character as well as into his physique. He was a willful man, with a good deal of granite in his make-up. A fighter from his y... Hopalong Keeps His Word
The waters of the Rio Grande slid placidly toward the Gulf, the hot sun branding the sleepy waters with streaks of molten fire. To the north arose from the gray sandy plain the Quitman Mountains, and beyond them lay Bass Ca on. From the latter e... Hopalong Loses A Horse
For a month after their return from the San Miguel, Hopalong and his companions worked with renewed zest, and told and retold the other members of the outfit of their unusual experiences near the Mexican border. Word had come up to them that Martin ... Hopalong Nurses A Grouch
After the excitement incident to the affair at Powers' shack had died down and the Bar-20 outfit worked over its range in the old, placid way, there began to be heard low mutterings, and an air of peevish discontent began to be manifested in various... Hopalong's Decision
Shortly after noon, Hopalong, who had ridden with his head bowed low in meditation, looked up and slapped his thigh. Then he looked at Red and grinned. "Look ahere, Red," he began, "there ain't no rustlers with their headquarters on this God-f... Hostage
The revolution of Todos Santos had to all appearances been effected as peacefully as the gentle Liberator of Quinquinambo could have wished. Two pronunciamientos, rudely printed and posted in the Plaza, and saluted by the fickle garrison of one hu... Houck Takes A Ride
Tolliver rubbed a hand uncertainly over a bristly chin. "Why, what are they doin' that for, Jake?" "Are you the Tolliver girl's father?" asked Larson. "Yes, sir." "Then we got bad news for you. She's sick." "Sick?" the trapper's lips tre... How Happiness Returned To The Lazy A
When Lite rapped with his knuckles on the door of the room where she was waiting, Jean stood with her hands pressed tightly over her face, every muscle rigid with the restraint she was putting upon herself. For Lite this three-day interval had been ... How Tom Connor Went Boring For Oil
One thing was plain at any rate: we could do nothing towards finding the source of the underground stream until the snow cleared off the mountain, and that was likely to be later than usual this year, for the fall had been exceedingly heavy in the... How Trouble Came To The Lazy A
Without going into a deep, psychological discussion of the elements in men's souls that breed events, we may say with truth that the Lazy A ranch was as other ranches in the smooth tenor of its life until one day in June, when the finger of fate wro... Hughie's Emancipation
Hughie rose late next morning, and the hurry and rush of getting off to school in time left him no opportunity to get rid of the little packages in his pocket, that seemed to burn and sting him through his clothes. He determined to keep them safe ... Hunting Big Game
In point of fact, Denver's occupation at that moment was precisely what they had guessed it to be. He was sitting beside Nora Darling in the grand stand, explaining to her the fine points of "roping." Mr. Bob Austin, commonly known as "Texas," was m... I Accept An Offer
We found a small table, one of the several devoted to refreshments for the dancers, in a corner and unoccupied. The affair upon the floor was apparently past history--if it merited even that distinction. The place had resumed its program of dancin... I Cut Loose
I nodded; rebuffing his attentive eyes I stuffed the envelope into my pantaloons pocket. "Good-bye, sir." "Good luck. When you come back remember the Queen." "I'll remember the Queen," said I; and with the envelope smirching my flesh I ste... I Do The Deed
We had camped well beyond a last bunch of the red-shirted graders, so that the thread of a trail wended before, lonely, sand-obscured, leading apparently nowhere, through this desert devoid of human life. Line stakes of the surveyors denoted the g... I Don't Care Much About Girls
"There's no use asking the Injuns to go on the warpath," Gene announced disgustedly, coming out upon the porch where the rest of the boys were foregathered, waiting for the ringing tattoo upon the iron triangle just outside the back door which would...