North Of Fifty-three
: PardnersBig George was drinking, and the activities of the little Arctic
mining camp were paralysed. Events invariably ceased their progress
and marked time when George became excessive, and now nothing of
public consequence stirred except the quicksilver, which was retiring
fearfully into its bulb at the song of the wind which came racing
over the lonesome, bitter, northward waste of tundra.
He held the centre
his modest virtues in a voice as pleasant as the cough of a
bull-walrus.
"Yes, me! Little Georgie! I did it. I've licked 'em all from
Herschel Island to Dutch Harbour, big uns and little uns. When they
didn't suit I made 'em over. I'm the boss carpenter of the Arctic
and I own this camp; don't I, Slim? Hey? Answer me!" he roared at
the emaciated bearer of the title, whose attention seemed wandering
from the inventory of George's startling traits toward a card game.
"Sure ye do," nervously smiled Slim, frightened out of a heart-solo
as he returned to his surroundings.
"Well, then, listen to what I'm saying. I'm the big chief of the
village, and when I'm stimulated and happy them fellers I don't like
hides out and lets me and Nature operate things. Ain't that right?"
He glared inquiringly at his friends.
Red, the proprietor, explained over the bar in a whisper to Captain,
the new man from Dawson: "That's Big George, the whaler. He's a
squaw-man and sort of a bully--see? When he's sober he's on the
level strickly, an' we all likes him fine, but when he gets to
fightin' the pain-killer, he ain't altogether a gentleman. Will he
fight? Oh! Will he fight? Say! he's there with chimes, he is!
Why, Doc Miller's made a grub-stake rebuildin' fellers that's had a
lingerin' doubt cached away about that, an' now when he gets the
booze up his nose them patched-up guys oozes away an' hibernates till
the gas dies out in him. Afterwards he's sore on himself an'
apologizes to everybody. Don't get into no trouble with him, cause
he's two checks past the limit. They don't make 'em as bad as him
any more. He busted the mould."
George turned, and spying the new-comer, approached, eyeing him with
critical disfavour.
Captain saw a bear-like figure, clad cap-a-pie in native fashion.
Reindeer pants, with the hair inside, clothed legs like rock pillars,
while out of the loose squirrel parka a corded neck rose, brown and
strong, above which darkly gleamed a rugged face seamed and scarred
by the hate of Arctic winters. He had kicked off his deer-skin
socks, and stood bare-footed on the cold and draughty floor, while
the poison he had imbibed showed only in his heated face, Silently he
extended a cracked and hardened hand, which closed like the armoured
claw of a crustacean and tightened on the crunching fingers of the
other. Captain's expression remained unchanged and, gradually
slackening his grip, the sailor roughly inquired:
"Where'd you come from?"
"Just got in from Dawson yesterday," politely responded the stranger.
"Well! what're you goin' to do now you're here?" he demanded.
"Stake some claims and go to prospecting, I guess. You see, I wanted
to get in early before the rush next spring."
"Oh! I 'spose you're going to jump some of our ground, hey? Well,
you ain't! We don't want no claim jumpers here," disagreeably
continued the seaman; "we won't stand for it. This is my camp--see?
I own it, and these is my little children." Then, as the other
refused to debate with him, he resumed, groping for a new ground of
attack.
"Say! I'll bet you're one of them eddicated dudes, too, ain't you?
You talk like a feller that had been to college," and, as the other
assented, he scornfully called to his friends, saying "Look here,
fellers! Pipe the jellyfish! I never see one of these here animals
that was worth a cuss; they plays football an' smokes cigareets at
school; then when they're weaned they come off up here an' jump our
claims 'cause we can't write a location notice proper. They ain't no
good. I guess I'll stop it."
Captain moved toward the door, but the whaler threw his bulky frame
against it and scowlingly blocked the way.
"No, you don't. You ain't goin' to run away till I've had the next
dance, Mister Eddication! Humph! I ain't begun to tell ye yet what
a useless little barnacle you are."
Red interfered, saying: "Look 'ere, George, this guy ain't no
playmate of yourn. We'll all have a jolt of this disturbance
promoter, an' call it off." Then, as the others approached he winked
at Captain, and jerked his head slightly toward the door.
The latter, heeding the signal, started out, but George leaped after
him and, seizing an arm, whirled him back, roaring:
"Well, of all the cussed impidence I ever see! You're too high-toned
to drink with us, are you? You don't get out of here now till you
take a lickin' like a man."
He reached over his head and, grasping the hood of his fur shirt,
with one movement he stripped it from him, exposing a massive naked
body, whose muscles swelled and knotted beneath a skin as clear as a
maiden's, while a map of angry scars strayed across the heavy chest.
As the shirt sailed through the air. Red lightly vaulted to the bar
and, diving at George's naked middle, tackled beautifully, crying to
Captain: "Get out quick; we'll hold him."
Others rushed forward and grasped the bulky sailor, but Captain's
voice replied: "I sort of like this place, and I guess I'll stay a
while. Turn him loose."
"Why, man, he'll kill ye," excitedly cried Slim. "Get out!"
The captive hurled his peacemakers from him and, shaking off the
clinging arms, drove furiously at the insolent stranger.
In the cramped limits of the corner where he stood. Captain was
unable to avoid the big man, who swept him with a crash against the
plank door at his back, grasping hungrily at his throat. As his
shoulders struck, however, he dropped to his knees and, before the
raging George could seize him, he avoided a blow which would have
strained the rivets of a strength-tester and ducked under the other's
arms, leaping to the cleared centre of the floor.
Seldom had the big man's rush been avoided and, whirling, he swung a
boom-like arm at the agile stranger. Before it landed, Captain
stepped in to meet his adversary and, with the weight of his body
behind the blow, drove a clenched and bony fist crashing into the
other's face. The big head with its blazing shock of hair snapped
backward and the whaler drooped to his knees at the other's feet.
The drunken flush of victory swept over Captain as he stood above the
swaying figure; then, suddenly, he felt the great bare arms close
about his waist with a painful grip. He struck at the bleeding face
below him and wrenched at the circling bands which wheezed the breath
from his lungs, but the whaler squeezed him writhing to his breast,
and, rising, unsteadily wheeled across the floor and in a shiver of
broken glass fell crashing against the bar and to the floor.
As the struggling men writhed upon the planks the door opened at the
hurried entrance of an excited group, which paused at the sight of
the ruin, then, rushing forward, tore the men apart.
The panting Berserker strained at the arms about his glistening body,
while Captain, with sobbing sighs, relieved his aching lungs and
watched his enemy, who frothed at the interference.
"It was George's fault," explained Slim to the questions of the
arrivals. "This feller tried to make a get-away, but George had to
have his amusement."
A new-comer addressed the squaw-man in a voice as cold as the wind.
"Cut this out, George! This is a friend of mine. You're making this
camp a regular hell for strangers, and now I'm goin' to tap your
little snap. Cool off--see?"
Jones's reputation as a bad gun-man went hand in hand with his name
as a good gambler, and his scanty remarks invariably evoked attentive
answers, so George explained: "I don't like him Jones, and I was jus'
makin' him over to look like a man. I'll do it yet, too," he flashed
wrathfully at his quiet antagonist.
"'Pears to me like he's took a hand in the remodelling himself,"
replied the gambler, "but if you're lookin' for something to do,
here's your chance. Windy Jim just drove in and says Barton and Kid
Sullivan are adrift on the ice."
"What's that?" questioned eager voices, and, forgetting the recent
trouble at the news, the crowd pressed forward anxiously.
"They was crossing the bay and got carried out by the off-shore
gale," explained Jones. "Windy was follerin' 'em when the ice ahead
parted and begun movin' out. He tried to yell to 'em, but they was
too far away to hear in the storm. He managed to get back to the
land and follered the shore ice around. He's over at Hunter's cabin
now, most dead, face and hands froze pretty bad."
A torrent of questions followed and many suggestions as to the fate
of the men.
"They'll freeze before they can get ashore," said one.
"The ice-pack'll break up in this wind," added another, "and if they
don't drown, they'll freeze before the floe comes in close enough for
them to land."
From the first announcement of his friends' peril, Captain had been
thinking rapidly. His body, sore from his long trip and aching from
the hug of his recent encounter, cried woefully for rest, but his
voice rose calm and clear:
"We've got to get them off," he said. "Who will go with me? Three
is enough."
The clamouring voices ceased, and the men wheeled at the sound,
gazing incredulously at the speaker. "What!"--"In this
storm?"--"You're crazy," many voices said.
He gazed appealingly at the faces before him. Brave and adventurous
men he knew them to be, jesting with death, and tempered to perils in
this land where hardship rises with the dawn, but they shook their
ragged heads hopelessly.
"We must save them!" resumed Captain hotly. "Barton and I played
as children together, and if there's not a man among you who's got
the nerve to follow me--I'll go alone by Heavens!"
In the silence of the room, he pulled the cap about his ears and,
tying it snugly under his chin, drew on his huge fur mittens; then
with a scornful laugh he turned toward the door.
He paused as his eye caught the swollen face of Big George. Blood
had stiffened in the heavy creases of his face like rusted stringers
in a ledge, while his mashed and discoloured lips protruded thickly.
His hair gleamed red, and the sweat had dried upon his naked
shoulders, streaked with dirt and flecked with spots of blood, yet
the battered features shone with the unconquered, fearless light of a
rough, strong man.
Captain strode to him with outstretched hand. "You're a man," he
said. "You've got the nerve, George, and you'll go with me, won't
you?"
"What! Me?" questioned the sailor vaguely. His wondering glance
left Captain, and drifted round the circle of shamed and silent
faces--then he straightened stiffly and cried: "Will I go with you?
Certainly! I'll go to ---- with you."
Ready hands harnessed the dogs, dragged from protected nooks where
they sought cover from the storm which moaned and whistled round the
low houses. Endless ragged folds of sleet whirled out of the north,
then writhed and twisted past, vanishing into the grey veil which
shrouded the landscape in a twilight gloom.
The fierce wind sank the cold into the aching flesh like a knife and
stiffened the face to a whitening mask, while a fusillade of frozen
ice-particles beat against the eyeballs with blinding fury.
As Captain emerged from his cabin, furred and hooded, he found a long
train of crouching, whining animals harnessed and waiting, while
muffled figures stocked the sled with robes and food and stimulants.
Big George approached through the whirling white, a great squat
figure with fluttering squirrel tails blowing from his parka, and at
his heels there trailed a figure, skin-clad and dainty.
"It's my wife," he explained briefly to Captain. "She won't let me
go alone."
They gravely bade farewell to all, and the little crowd cheered
lustily against the whine of the blizzard as, with cracking whip and
hoarse shouts, they were wrapped in the cloudy winding sheet of snow.
Arctic storms have an even sameness; the intense cold, the heartless
wind which augments tenfold the chill of the temperature, the air
thick and dark with stinging flakes rushing by in an endless cloud.
A drifting, freezing, shifting eternity of snow, driven by a ravening
gale which sweeps the desolate, bald wastes of the Northland.
The little party toiled through the smother till they reached the
"egloos" under the breast of the tall, coast bluffs, where coughing
Eskimos drilled patiently at ivory tusks and gambled the furs from
their backs at stud-horse poker.
To George's inquiries they answered that their largest canoe was the
three-holed bidarka on the cache outside. Owing to the small
circular openings in its deck, this was capable of holding but three
passengers, and Captain said; "We'll have to make two trips, George."
"Two trips, eh?" answered the other. "We'll be doin' well if we last
through one, I'm thinking."
Lashing the unwieldy burden upon the sled, they fought their way
along the coast again till George declared they were opposite the
point where their friends went adrift. They slid their light craft
through the ragged wall of ice hummocks guarding the shore pack, and
dimly saw, in the grey beyond them, a stretch of angry waters mottled
by drifting cakes and floes.
George spoke earnestly to his wife, instructing her to keep the team
in constant motion up and down the coast a rifle-shot in either
direction, and to listen for a signal of the return. Then he picked
her up as he would a babe, and she kissed his storm-beaten face.
"She's been a good squaw to me," he said, as they pushed their
dancing craft out into the breath of the gale, "and I've always done
the square thing by her; I s'pose she'll go back to her people now,
though."
The wind hurried them out from land, while it drove the sea-water in
freezing spray over their backs and changed their fur garments into
scaly armour, as they worked through the ice cakes, peering with
strained eyes for a sign of their friends.
The sailor, with deft strokes, steered them, between the grinding
bergs, raising his voice in lone signals like the weird cry of a
siren.
Twisting back and forth through the floes, they held to their quest,
now floating with the wind, now paddling desperately in a race with
some drifting mass which dimly towered above them and splintered
hungrily against its neighbour close in their wake.
Captain emptied his six-shooter till his numbed fingers grew rigid as
the trigger, and always at his back swelled the deep shouts of the
sailor, who, with practised eye and mighty strokes, forced their way
through the closing lanes between the jaws of the ice pack.
At last, beaten and tossed, they rested disheartened and hopeless.
Then, as they drifted, a sound struggled to them against the wind--a
faint cry, illusive and fleeting as a dream voice--and, still
doubting, they heard it again.
"Thank God! We'll save 'em yet," cried Captain, and they drove the
canoe boiling toward the sound.
Barton and Sullivan had fought the cold and wind stoutly hour after
hour, till they found their great floe was breaking up in the heaving
waters.
Then the horror of it had struck the Kid, till he raved and cursed up
and down their little island, as it dwindled gradually to a small
acre.
He had finally yielded to the weight of the cold which crushed
resistance out of him, and settled, despairing and listless, upon the
ice. Barton dragged him to his feet and forced him round their
rocking prison, begging him to brace up, to fight it out like a man,
till the other insisted on resting, and dropped to his seat again.
The older man struck deliberately at the whitening face of his
freezing companion, who recognized the well-meant insult and refused
to be roused into activity. Then to their ears had come the faint
cries of George, and, in answer to their screams, through the gloom
they beheld a long, covered, skin canoe, and the anxious faces of
their friends.
Captain rose from his cramped seat, and, ripping his crackling
garments from the boat where they had frozen, he wriggled out of the
hole in the deck and grasped the weeping Barton.
"Come, come, old boy! It's all right now," he said.
"Oh, Charlie, Charlie!" cried the other. "I might have known you'd
try to save us. You're just in time, though, for the Kid's about all
in." Sullivan apathetically nodded and sat down again.
"Hurry up there; this ain't no G. A. R. Encampment, and you ain't got
no time to spare," said George, who had dragged the canoe out and,
with a paddle, broke the sheets of ice which covered it. "It'll be
too dark to see anything in half an hour."
The night, hastened by the storm, was closing rapidly, and they
realized another need of haste, for, even as they spoke, a crack had
crawled through the ice-floe where they stood, and, widening as it
went, left but a heaving cake supporting them.
George spoke quietly to Captain, while Barton strove to animate the
Kid. "You and Barton must take him ashore and hurry him down to the
village. He's most gone now."
"But you?" questioned the other. "We'll have to come back for you,
as soon as we put him ashore."
"Never mind me," roughly interrupted George. "It's too late to get
back here. When you get ashore it'll be dark. Besides Sullivan's
freezing, and you'll have to rush him through quick. I'll stay here."
"No! No! George!" cried the other, as the meaning of it bore in
upon him. "I got you into this thing, and it's my place to stay
here. You must go--"
But the big man had hurried to Sullivan, and, seizing him in his
great hands, shook the drowsy one like a rat, cursing and beating a
goodly share of warmth back into him. Then he dragged the listless
burden to the canoe and forced him to a seat in the middle opening.
"Come, come," he cried to the others; "you can't spend all night
here. If you want to save the Kid, you've got to hurry. You take
the front seat there, Barton," and, as he did so, George turned to
the protesting Captain: "Shut up, curse you, and get in!"
"I won't do it," rebelled the other. "I can't let you lay down your
life in this way, when I made you come."
George thrust a cold face within an inch of the other's and grimly
said: "If they hadn't stopped me, I'd beat you into dog-meat this
morning, and if you don't quit this snivelling I'll do it yet. Now
get in there and paddle to beat ---- or you'll never make it back.
Quick!"
"I'll come back for you then, George, if I live to the shore,"
Captain cried, while the other slid the burdened canoe into the icy
waters.
As they drove the boat into the storm, Captain realized the
difficulty of working their way against the gale. On him fell the
added burden of holding their course into the wind and avoiding the
churning ice cakes. The spray whipped into his face like shot, and
froze as it clung to his features. He strained at his paddle till
the sweat soaked out of him and the cold air filled his aching lungs.
Unceasingly the merciless frost cut his face like a keen blade, till
he felt the numb paralysis which told him his features were hardening
under the touch of the cold.
An arm's length ahead the shoulders of the Kid protruded from the
deck hole where he had sunk again into the death sleep, while Barton,
in the forward seat, leaned wearily on his ice-clogged paddle,
moaning as he strove to shelter his face from the sting of the
blizzard.
An endless time they battled with the storm, slowly gaining, foot by
foot, till in the darkness ahead they saw the wall of shore ice and
swung into its partial shelter.
Dragging the now unconscious Sullivan from the boat, Captain rolled
and threshed him, while Barton, too weak and exhausted to assist,
feebly strove to warm his stiffened limbs.
In answer to their signals, the team appeared, maddened by the lash
of the squaw. Then they wrapped Sullivan in warm robes, and forced
scorching brandy down his throat, till he coughed weakly and begged
them to let him rest.
"You must hurry him to the Indian village," directed Captain. "He'll
only lose some fingers and toes now, maybe; but you've got to hurry!"
"Aren't you coming, too?" queried Barton. "We'll hire some Eskimos
to go after George. I'll pay 'em anything."
"No, I'm going back to him now; he'd freeze before we could send
help, and, besides, they wouldn't come out in the storm and the dark."
"But you can't work that big canoe alone. If you get out there and
don't find him you'll never get back. Charlie! let me go, too," he
said; then apologized. "I'm afraid I won't last, though; I'm too
weak."
The squaw, who had questioned not at the absence of her lord, now
touched Captain's arm. "Come," she said; "I go with you." Then
addressing Barton, "You quick go Indian house; white man die, mebbe.
Quick! I go Big George."
"Ah, Charlie, I'm afraid you'll never make it," cried Barton, and,
wringing his friend's hand, he staggered into the darkness behind the
sled wherein lay the fur-bundled Sullivan.
Captain felt a horror of the starving waters rise up in him and a
panic shook him fiercely, till he saw the silent squaw waiting for
him at the ice edge. He shivered as the wind searched through his
dampened parka and hardened the wet clothing next to his body, but he
took his place and dug the paddle fiercely into the water, till the
waves licked the hair of his gauntlets.
The memory of that scudding trip through the darkness was always
cloudy and visioned. Periods of keen alertness alternated with
moments when his weariness bore upon him till he stiffly bent to his
work, wondering what it all meant.
It was the woman's sharpened ear which caught the first answering
cry, and her hands which steered the intricate course to the heaving
berg where the sailor crouched, for, at their approach, Captain had
yielded to the drowse of weariness and, in his relief at the finding,
the blade floated from his listless hands.
He dreamed quaint dreams, broken by the chilling lash of spray from
the strokes of the others, as they drove the craft back against the
wind, and he only partly awoke from his lethargy when George wrenched
him from his seat and forced him down the rough trail toward warmth
and safety.
Soon, however, the stagnant blood tingled through his veins, and
under the shelter of the bluffs they reached the village, where they
found the anxious men waiting.
Skilful natives had worked the frost from Sullivan's members, and the
stimulants in the sled had put new life into Barton as well. So, as
the three crawled wearily through the dog-filled tunnel of the egloo,
they were met by two wet-eyed and thankful men, who silently wrung
their hands or uttered broken words.
When they had been despoiled of their frozen furs, and the welcome
heat of whisky and fire had met in their blood, Captain approached
the whaler, who rested beside his mate.
"George, you're the bravest man I ever knew, and your woman is worthy
of you," he said. He continued slowly, "I'm sorry about the fight
this morning, too."
The big man rose and, crushing the extended palm in his grasp, said:
"We'll just let that go double, partner. You're as game as I ever
see." Then he added: "It was too bad them fellers interferred jest
when they did--but we can finish it up whenever you say," and as the
other, smiling, shook his head, he continued:
"Well, I'm glad of it, 'cause you'd sure beat me the next time."
More
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Mingling With The Exodus
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Jack Kilmeny followed the pathway which wound through the woods along the bank of the river. Occasionally he pushed through a thick growth of young willows or ducked beneath the top strand of a neglected wire fence. Beyond the trees lay a clear... Mr Verinder Is Treated To A Surprise
The morning after the seizing of the ore Verinder came to breakfast in a mood so jubilant that he could not long keep to himself the cause of his exultation. Kilmeny and Farquhar were away on a hunting trip, and none of the ladies except Moya was ... Mrs Lansell's Lecture
When the excitement had somewhat abated, and Miss Hayes was convinced that her idol was really there, safe, and with his usual healthy appetite, and when a messenger had been started out to recall the searchers, Dorman was placed upon a chair befo... Mrs Ripley's Trip
"And in winter the winds sweep the snows across it." Thn night was in windy November, and the blast, threatening rain, roared around the poor little shanty of "Uncle Ripley," set like a chicken trap on the vast Iowa prairie. Uncle Ethan was mendin... Murder
"How do you think you'd like to live in Crawling Water?" Wade looked whimsically at Helen, as she picked her way with the grace of a kitten through the dust of the main street. Carefully though she walked, her shoes and the bottom of her skirt w... Napoleon Shave-tail
Augustus Albumblatt, young and new and sleek with the latest book-knowledge of war, reported to his first troop commander at Fort Brown. The ladies had watched for him, because he would increase the number of men, the officers because he would les... Naza! Naza! Naza!
It was a waiting day at Fort Chippewayan. The lonesome, far-northern Hudson's Bay Trading Post seldom saw such life. Tepees dotted the banks of the Slave River and lines of blanketed Indians paraded its shores. Near the boat landing a group of chief... Nemesis
On the second day following Flemister's visit to Angels, Lidgerwood was called again to Red Butte to another conference with the mine-owners. On his return, early in the afternoon, his special was slowed and stopped at a point a few miles east of ... Nerve
With a deep sigh, Buck lifted his face from the water and regarded her gratefully. "That just about saved my life," he murmured. Mary Thorne carefully set down the improvised water-bucket, its contents much depleted, and taking out her handke... Nerves And Intuition
"Mr. Gael," said Joan standing before him at the breakfast-table, "I'm a-goin' to work." She was pale, gaunt, and imperturbable. He gave her a quick look, one that turned to amusement, for Joan was really as appealing to his humor as a child. S... Night Fishing
Jack Kilmeny crossed the river by the rope ferry and followed the trail that ran up. He took the water above the Narrows, about a mile and a half from camp. The mosquitoes were pretty bad near the willows along the shore, but as he got out farther... Night Prowling At Frayne
In the full of the September moon the war-bands of the Sioux had defied agents and peace chiefs, commissioners and soldiers, and started their wild campaign in northern Wyoming. In the full of the October moon the big chief of the whites had swept... No Dream To Wake From
For a long while after she had left him, he lay still, stretched in his chair. His eyes were fixed steadily upon the open window and the sunshine outside. There he watched the movement of the leaves upon the green cottonwoods. What had she said to... North Of Fifty-three
Big George was drinking, and the activities of the little Arctic mining camp were paralysed. Events invariably ceased their progress and marked time when George became excessive, and now nothing of public consequence stirred except the quicksilver,... Not Even Powder-burnt
Houck stood over the prostrate man, the smoking revolver in his hand, on his lips a cruel twist and in his throat a wolfish snarl. June, watching him with eyes held in a fascination of terror, felt that at any moment he might begin pumping shots... Not Guilty Guilty
Ridgway's answer to the latest move of Simon Harley was to put him on trial for his life to answer the charge of having plotted and instigated the death of Vance Edwards. Not without reason, the defense had asked for a change of venue, alleging the ... Notes By Flood And Field
PART I--IN THE FIELD It was near the close of an October day that I began to be disagreeably conscious of the Sacramento Valley. I had been riding since sunrise, and my course through the depressing monotony of the long level landscape affected... Now Dang It Ride!
Indians are Indians, though they wear the green sweater and overalls of civilization and set upon their black hair the hat made famous by John B. Stetson. You may meet them in town and think them tamed to stupidity. You may travel out upon their res... Oak Spring
Moze and Don and Sounder straggled into camp next morning, hungry, footsore and scarred; and as they limped in, Jones met them with characteristic speech: "Well, you decided to come in when you got hungry and tired? Never thought of how you fooled m... Off His Range
Bruce stood before the blackboard in the Bartlesville station studying the schedule. A train went west at 11.45. The first train went east at 11.10. He hesitated a moment, then the expression of uncertainty upon his face hardened into decision. He... Old Acquaintances
"You wanted to see me?" The voice had the soft, slow intonation of the South, and it held some quality that haunted the memory. Or so Melissy thought afterward, but that may have been because of its owner's appeal to sympathy. "If you are Mis... Old Friends
Into the depths of her scorching self-contempt came his blithe "Good-morning, neighbor." Her heart leaped, but before she looked around Moya made sure no tales could be read in her face. Her eyes met his with quiet scorn. "I was wondering if ... Old Jezebel On The Rampage
"Old Jezebel is a woman. For years she keeps her appointed trail until the accumulation of her strength breaks all bounds and she sweeps sand and men before her." MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. ... Old Tom
At daybreak our leader routed us out. The frost mantled the ground so heavily that it looked like snow, and the rare atmosphere bit like the breath of winter. The forest stood solemn and gray; the canyon lay wrapped in vapory slumber. Hot biscuit... Old Ways And New
Progress is like the insidious change from youth to old age, except that progress does not mean decay. The change that is almost imperceptible and yet inexorable is much the same, however. You will see a community apparently changeless as the years ... Old Wives Tales
Down the winding trail of Snake River bluff straggled a blanketed half dozen of old Wolfbelly's tribe, the braves stalking moodily in front and kicking up a gray cloud of dust which enveloped the squaws behind them but could not choke to silence the... Oldring's Knell
Some forty hours or more later Venters created a commotion in Cottonwoods by riding down the main street on Black Star and leading Bells and Night. He had come upon Bells grazing near the body of a dead rustler, the only incident of his qu... Oleson
"Say, ain't that Andy and Mig following along behind?" Cal asked after a minute of watching the approach. "Sure, it is. Now what--" "They're drivin' 'em, by cripes!" Big Medicine, under the stress of the moment, returned to his usual bellowing ton... On A Strange Range
Two tired but happy punchers rode into the coast town and dismounted in front of the best hotel. Putting up their horses as quickly as possible they made arrangements for sleeping quarters and then hastened out to attend to business. Buck had been k... On Blacksnake's Trail
At first, they could see little, for not much light filtered through the small door and window. Then details of the interior began to grow more distinct in the hut's one room. A tarp had been tacked over the dirt ceiling to keep scorpions and cent... On Grand Tour
The sun had set and all the golden twilight was hazy with the dust suspended in swirl and strata over the ugly roofs. In the canvas-faced main street the throng and noise had increased rather than diminished at the approach of dusk. Although clatt... On Guard
The man whose soul held no love of the poetic sat for two or three hours on the threshold of the bunkhouse door, his gaze on the ranchhouse. He was considering his "reputation," and he had reached the conclusion that Barbara Morgan had reason to f... On Into The Wilderness
Great as the shock of the sudden attack and his narrow escape was, Ree gave only a little yell of surprise and anger, and ran in the direction from which the shot had come, drawing his pistol as he went. He found no one. Though utterly regardless ... On Lonely Mountain Roads
"What's happened, Ree?" The tone in which John asked the question, satisfied Kingdom that his friend knew nothing of the shooting. Better than this, however, it satisfied the Indian who knelt silently nearby, still listening, that the boy he ha... On The Back Trail
"Just you two wait a minute!" It was Tom Dillon who uttered the words, as he saw Link Merwell and Job Haskers turn to where their horses were tethered. "You bet they'll wait!" exploded Abe Blower, wrathfully. He stepped forward and seized Mer... On The Chisholm Trail
From the sweeps of high country bordering close upon Santa Fe, it was no easy journey to the Chisholm Trail, even for a trail-eating horse of Blizzard's caliber. But The Kid had taken his time. His ultimate destination, unless fate altered his pla... On The Just And The Unjust
The quarantine guards returned to their camp. Our plans were suddenly and completely upset, and not knowing which way to turn, Sponsilier and I, slightly crestfallen, accompanied the guards. It was already late in the evening, but Captain Ullmer too... On The Way West
"Off at last!" "Hurrah for the West!" "And the Landslide Mine, Roger, don't forget that!" "What a splendid day for beginning the trip!" "Say, we make quite a crowd, don't we?" "Wonder if the train will be on time, Dave?" "I suppose ... On To Black Cat Camp
"You go!" cried Dave. "I thought you had given up prospecting," exclaimed Roger. "Not but that we'd be glad to have you along," put in Phil, hastily. "Well, I have given up prospecting," answered Mr. Dillon, with that broad smile still on h... On To The Siwash
"Who all was doin' the talkin' last night?" asked Frank next morning, when we were having a late breakfast. "Cause I've a joke on somebody. Jim he talks in his sleep often, an' last night after you did finally get settled down, Jim he up in his slee... One Game Hombre
Hardy's gang did not attempt another rush. They had learned their lesson. Keeping under cover, they continued firing steadily, however, and their bullets began to do damage. Every crack and chink was a target. In the afternoon, more riders arr... One Maid Two Men
Jack saw to it that he and Joyce followed the others down the trail at a very leisurely pace. The early night of the Rockies was already cutting them off from the rest of the world. Captain Kilmeny and his betrothed could be seen as shadows growin... One Million Dollars
Eaton, standing on the street curb at the corner of the Ridgway Building, lit a cigar while he hesitated between his rooms and the club. He decided for the latter, and was just turning up the hill, when a hand covered his mouth and an arm was flung ... One Put Over On The Bunch
"Sounds to me," volunteered the irrepressible Big Medicine after a heavy silence, "like as if you'd gone to sleep on your hawse, Little One, and dreamed that there tinkle-tinkle stuff. By cripes, I'd like to see the bell-hawse that could walk away f... One That Ruleth Well His Own House
The news of the school trouble ran through the section like fire through a brule. The younger generations when they heard how Thomas Finch had dared the master, raised him at once to the rank of hero, but the heads of families received the news do... One To One
The solitary rider stood for a moment in silhouette against the somber sky-line, his keen eyes searching the lowering clouds. "Getting its back up for a blizzard," he muttered to himself, as he touched his pony with the spur. Dark, heavy billow... One Trail Ends
"You can trust Grey Molly to me, Vic," said Dan, standing at the head of the gray mare. "I'll keep her as safe as if she was Satan." Gregg watched her almost sadly. He had always taken a rather childish pride in her fierceness. She knew him as a d... Opening The Campaign
"Well, gentlemen, if that is the best rate you can offer us, then we'll drive the cattle. My boys have all been over the trail before, and your figures are no inducement to ship as far as Red River. We are fully aware of the nature of the country, b... Organizing The Forces
Don Lovell and Jim Flood returned from Lasalle County on the last day of February. They had spent a week along the Upper Nueces, and before returning to the ranch closed a trade on thirty-four hundred five and six year old beeves. According to their...