One That Ruleth Well His Own House
: Glengarry SchooldaysThe 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 doubtfully, and wondered what the rising
generation was coming to.
The next day Billy Jack heard the story in the Twentieth store, and with
some anxiety waited for
the truth, Billy Jack, man though he was, held his father in dread.
"How did you come to do it?" he asked Thomas. "Why didn't you let Don
begin? It was surely Don's business."
"I don't know. It slipped out," replied Thomas. "I couldn't stand
Jimmie's yelling any longer. I didn't know I said anything till I found
myself standing up, and after that I didn't seem to care for anything."
"Man! it was fine, though," said Billy Jack. "I didn't think it was in
you." And Thomas felt more than repaid for all his cruel beating. It was
something to win the approval of Billy Jack in an affair of this kind.
It was at church on the Sabbath day that Donald Finch heard about his
son's doings in the school the week before. The minister, in his sermon,
thought fit to dwell upon the tendency of the rising generation to
revolt against authority in all things, and solemnly laid upon parents
the duty and responsibility of seeing to it that they ruled their
households well.
It was not just the advice that Donald Finch stood specially in need of,
but he was highly pleased with the sermon, and was enlarging upon it
in the churchyard where the people gathered between the services, when
Peter McRae, thinking that old Donald was hardly taking the minister's
advice to himself as he ought, and not knowing that the old man was
ignorant of all that had happened in the school, answered him somewhat
severely.
"It is good to be approving the sermon, but I would rather be seeing you
make a practical application of it."
"Indeed, that is true," replied Donald, "and it would not be amiss for
more than me to make application of it."
"Indeed, then, if all reports be true," replied Peter, "it would be well
for you to begin at home."
"Mr. McRae," said Donald, earnestly, "it is myself that knows well
enough my shortcomings, but if there is any special reason for your
remark, I am not aware of it."
This light treatment of what to Peter had seemed a grievous offense
against all authority incensed the old dominie beyond all endurance.
"And do you not think that the conduct of your son last week calls for
any reproof? And is it you that will stand up and defend it in the face
of the minister and his sermon upon it this day?"
Donald gazed at him a few moments as if he had gone mad. At length he
replied, slowly, "I do not wish to forget that you are an elder of the
church, Mr. McRae, and I will not be charging you with telling lies on
me and my family--"
"Tut, tut, man," broke in Long John Cameron, seeing how the matter
stood; "he's just referring to yon little difference Thomas had with the
master last week. But it's just nothing. Come away in."
"Thomas?" gasped Donald. "My Thomas?"
"You have not heard, then," said Peter, in surprise, and old Donald only
shook his head.
"Then it's time you did," replied Peter, severely, "for such things are
a disgrace to the community."
"Nonsense!" said Long John. "Not a bit of it! I think none the less of
Thomas for it." But in matters of this kind Long John could hardly be
counted an authority, for it was not so very long ago since he had been
beguiled into an affair at the Scotch River which, while it brought
him laurels at the hands of the younger generation, did not add to his
reputation with the elders of the church.
It did not help matters much that Murdie Cameron and others of his set
proceeded to congratulate old Donald, in their own way, upon his son's
achievement, and with all the more fervor that they perceived that it
moved the solemn Peter to righteous wrath. From one and another the tale
came forth with embellishments, till Donald Finch was reduced to such a
state of voiceless rage and humiliation that when, at the sound of the
opening psalm the congregation moved into the church for the Gaelic
service, the old man departed for his home, trembling, silent, amazed.
How Thomas could have brought this disgrace upon him, he could not
imagine. If it had been William John, who, with all his good nature, had
a temper brittle enough, he would not have been surprised. And then the
minister's sermon, of which he had spoken in such open and enthusiastic
approval, how it condemned him for his neglect of duty toward his
family, and held up his authority over his household to scorn. It was a
terrible blow to his pride.
"It is the Lord's judgment upon me," he said to himself, as he tramped
his way through the woods. "It is the curse of Eli that is hanging over
me and mine." And with many vows he resolved that, at all costs, he
would do his duty in this crisis and bring Thomas to a sense of his
sins.
It was in this spirit that he met his family at the supper-table, after
their return from the Gaelic service.
"What is this I hear about you, Thomas?" he began, as Thomas came in and
took his place at the table. "What is this I hear about you, sir?" he
repeated, making a great effort to maintain a calm and judicial tone.
Thomas remained silent, partly because he usually found speech
difficult, but chiefly because he dreaded his father's wrath.
"What is this that has become the talk of the countryside and the
disgrace of my name?" continued the father, in deepening tones.
"No very great disgrace, surely," said Billy Jack, lightly, hoping to
turn his father's anger.
"Be you silent, sir!" commanded the old man, sternly. "I will ask for
your opinion when I require it. You and others beside you in this house
need to learn your places."
Billy Jack made no reply, fearing to make matters worse, though he found
it hard not to resent this taunt, which he knew well was flung at his
mother.
"I wonder at you, Thomas, after such a sermon as yon. I wonder you are
able to sit there unconcerned at this table. I wonder you are not hiding
your head in shame and confusion." The old man was lashing himself into
a white rage, while Thomas sat looking stolidly before him, his slow
tongue finding no words of defense. And indeed, he had little thought of
defending himself. He was conscious of an acute self-condemnation, and
yet, struggling through his slow-moving mind there was a feeling that in
some sense he could not define, there was justification for what he had
done.
"It is not often that Thomas has grieved you," ventured the mother,
timidly, for, with all her courage, she feared her husband when he was
in this mood.
"Woman, be silent!" blazed forth the old man, as if he had been waiting
for her words. "It is not for you to excuse his wickedness. You are too
fond of that work, and your children are reaping the fruits of it."
Billy Jack looked up quickly as if to answer, but his mother turned her
face full upon him and commanded him with steady eyes, giving, herself,
no sign of emotion except for a slight tightening of the lips and a
touch of color in her face.
"Your children have well learned their lesson of rebellion and deceit,"
continued her husband, allowing his passion a free rein. "But I vow unto
the Lord I will put an end to it now, whatever. And I will give you
to remember, sir," turning to Thomas, "to the end of your days, this
occasion. And now, hence from this table. Let me not see your face till
the Sabbath is past, and then, if the Lord spares me, I shall deal with
you."
Thomas hesitated a moment as if he had not quite taken in his father's
words, then, leaving his supper untouched, he rose slowly, and without
a word climbed the ladder to the loft. The mother followed him a moment
with her eyes, and then once more turning to Billy Jack, held him with
calm, steady gaze. Her immediate fear was for her eldest son. Thomas,
she knew, would in the mean time simply suffer what might be his lot,
but for many a day she had lived in terror of an outbreak between
her eldest son and her husband. Again Billy Jack caught her look, and
commanded himself to silence.
"The fire is low, William John," she said, in a quiet voice. Billy Jack
rose, and from the wood-box behind the stove, replenished the fire,
reading perfectly his mother's mind, and resolving at all costs to do
her will.
At the taking of the books that night the prayer, which was spoken in a
tone of awful and almost inaudible solemnity, was for the most part an
exaltation of the majesty and righteousness of the government of God,
and a lamentation over the wickedness and rebellion of mankind. And
Billy Jack thought it was no good augury that it closed with a petition
for grace to maintain the honor of that government, and to uphold that
righteous majesty in all the relations of life. It was a woeful evening
to them all, and as soon as possible the household went miserably to
bed.
Before going to her room the mother slipped up quietly to the loft and
found Thomas lying in his bunk, dressed and awake. He was still puzzling
out his ethical problem. His conscience clearly condemned him for his
fight with the master, and yet, somehow he could not regret having stood
up for Jimmie and taken his punishment. He expected no mercy at his
father's hands next morning. The punishment he knew would be cruel
enough, but it was not the pain that Thomas was dreading; he was dimly
struggling with the sense of outrage, for ever since the moment he had
stood up and uttered his challenge to the master, he had felt himself to
be different. That moment now seemed to belong to the distant years
when he was a boy, and now he could not imagine himself submitting to
a flogging from any man, and it seemed to him strange and almost
impossible that even his father should lift his hand to him.
"You are not sleeping, Thomas," said his mother, going up to his bunk.
"No, mother."
"And you have had no supper at all."
"I don't want any, mother."
The mother sat silent beside him for a time, and then said, quietly,
"You did not tell me, Thomas."
"No, mother, I didn't like."
"It would have been better that your father should have heard this
from--I mean, should have heard it at home. And--you might have told me,
Thomas."
"Yes, mother, I wish now I had. But, indeed, I can't understand how it
happened. I don't feel as if it was me at all." And then Thomas told his
mother all the tale, finishing his story with the words, "And I couldn't
help it, mother, at all."
The mother remained silent for a little, and then, with a little tremor
in her voice, she replied: "No, Thomas, I know you couldn't help it, and
I--" here her voice quite broke--"I am not ashamed of you."
"Are you not, mother?" said Thomas, sitting up suddenly in great
surprise. "Then I don't care. I couldn't make it out well."
"Never you mind, Thomas, it will be well," and she leaned over him and
kissed him. Thomas felt her face wet with tears, and his stolid reserve
broke down.
"Oh, mother, mother, I don't care now," he cried, his breath coming in
great sobs. "I don't care at all." And he put his arms round his mother,
clinging to her as if he had been a child.
"I know, laddie, I know," whispered his mother. "Never you fear, never
fear." And then, as if to herself, she added, "Thank the Lord you are
not a coward, whatever."
Thomas found himself again without words, but he held his mother fast,
his big body shaking with his sobs.
"And, Thomas," she continued, after a pause, "your father--we must just
be patient." All her life long this had been her struggle. "And--and--he
is a good man." Her tears were now flowing fast, and her voice had quite
lost its calm.
Thomas was alarmed and distressed. He had never in all his life seen his
mother weep, and rarely had heard her voice break.
"Don't, mother," he said, growing suddenly quiet himself. "Don't you
mind, mother. It'll be all right, and I'm not afraid."
"Yes," she said, rising and regaining her self-control, "it will be all
right, Thomas. You go to sleep." And there were such evident reserves of
strength behind her voice that Thomas lay down, certain that all would
be well. His mother had never failed him.
The mother went downstairs with the purpose in her heart of having a
talk with her husband, but Donald Finch knew her ways well, and had
resolved that he would have no speech with her upon the matter, for he
knew that it would be impossible for him to persevere in his intention
to "deal with" Thomas, if he allowed his wife to have any talk with him.
The morning brought the mother no opportunity of speech with her
husband. He, contrary to his custom, remained until breakfast in his
room. Outside in the kitchen, he could hear Billy Jack's cheerful tones
and hearty laugh, and it angered him to think that his displeasure
should have so little effect upon his household. If the house had
remained shrouded in gloom, and the family had gone about on tiptoes
and with bated breath, it would have shown no more than a proper
appreciation of the father's displeasure; but as Billy Jack's cheerful
words and laughter fell upon his ear, he renewed his vows to do his duty
that day in upholding his authority, and bringing to his son a due sense
of his sin.
In grim silence he ate his breakfast, except for a sharp rebuke to
Billy Jack, who had been laboring throughout the meal to make cheerful
conversation with Jessac and his mother. At his father's rebuke Billy
Jack dropped his cheerful tone, and avoiding his mother's eyes, he
assumed at once an attitude of open defiance, his tones and words
plainly offering to his father war, if war he would have.
"You will come to me in the room after breakfast," said his father, as
Thomas rose to go to the stable.
"There's a meeting of the trustees at nine o'clock at the school-house
at which Thomas must be present," interposed Billy Jack, in firm, steady
tones.
"He may go when I have done with him," said his father, angrily, "and
meantime you will attend to your own business."
"Yes, sir, I will that!" Billy Jack's response came back with fierce
promptness.
The old man glanced at him, caught the light in his eyes, hesitated a
moment, and then, throwing all restraint to the winds, thundered out,
"What do you mean, sir?"
"What I say. I am going to attend to my own business, and that soon."
Billy Jack's tone was quick, eager, defiant.
Again the old man hesitated, and then replied, "Go to it, then."
"I am going, and I am going to take Thomas to that meeting at nine
o'clock."
"I did not know that you had business there," said the old man,
sarcastically.
"Then you may know it now," blazed forth Billy Jack, "for I am going.
And as sure as I stand here, I will see that Thomas gets fair play there
if he doesn't at home, if I have to lick every trustee in the section."
"Hold your peace, sir!" said his father, coming nearer him. "Do not give
me any impertinence, and do not accuse me of unfairness."
"Have you heard Thomas's side of the story?" returned Billy Jack.
"I have heard enough, and more than enough."
"You haven't heard both sides."
"I know the truth of it, whatever, the shameful and disgraceful truth of
it. I know that the country-side is ringing with it. I know that in the
house of God the minister held up my family to the scorn of the people.
And I vowed to do my duty to my house."
The old man's passion had risen to such a height that for a moment
Billy Jack quailed before it. In the pause that followed the old man's
outburst the mother came to her son.
"Hush, William John! You are not to forget yourself, nor your duty to
your father and to me. Thomas will receive full justice in this matter."
There was a quiet strength and dignity in her manner that commanded
immediate attention from both men.
The mother went on in a low, even voice, "Your father has his duty to
perform, and you must not take upon yourself to interfere."
Billy Jack could hardly believe his ears. That his mother should desert
him, and should support what he knew she felt to be injustice and
tyranny, was more than he could understand. No less perplexed was her
husband.
As they stood there looking at each other, uncertain as to the next
step, there came a knock at the back door. The mother went to open it,
pausing on her way to push back some chairs and put the room to rights,
thus allowing the family to regain its composure.
"Good morning, Mrs. Finch. You will be thinking I have slept in your
barn all night." It was Long John Cameron.
"Come away in, Mr. Cameron. It is never too early for friends to come to
this house," said Mrs. Finch, her voice showing her great relief.
Long John came in, glanced shrewdly about, and greeted Mr. Finch with
great heartiness.
"It's a fine winter day, Mr. Finch, but it looks as if we might have a
storm. You are busy with the logs, I hear."
Old Donald was slowly recovering himself.
"And a fine lot you are having," continued Long John. "I was just saying
the other day that it was wonderful the work you could get through."
"Indeed, it is hard enough to do anything here," said Donald Finch, with
some bitterness.
"You may say so," responded Long John, cheerfully. "The snow is that
deep in the bush, and--"
"You were wanting to see me, Mr. Cameron," interrupted Donald. "I have a
business on hand which requires attention."
"Indeed, and so have I. For it is--"
"And indeed, it is just as well you and all should know it, for my
disgrace is well known."
"Disgrace!" exclaimed Long John.
"Ay, disgrace. For is it not a disgrace to have the conduct of your
family become the occasion of a sermon on the Lord's Day?"
"Indeed, I did not think much of yon sermon, whatever," replied Long
John.
"I cannot agree with you, Mr. Cameron. It was a powerful sermon, and it
was only too sorely needed. But I hope it will not be without profit to
myself."
"Indeed, it is not the sermon you have much need of," said Long John,
"for every one knows what a--"
"Ay, it is myself that needs it, but with the help of the Lord I will be
doing my duty this morning."
"And I am very glad to hear that," replied Long John, "for that is why I
am come."
"And what may you have to do with it?" asked the old man.
"As to that, indeed," replied Long John, coolly, "I am not yet quite
sure. But if I might ask without being too bold, what is the particular
duty to which you are referring?"
"You may ask, and you and all have a right to know, for I am about to
visit upon my son his sins and shame."
"And is it meaning to wheep him you are?"
"Ay," said the old man, and his lips came fiercely together.
"Indeed, then, you will just do no such thing this morning."
"And by what right do you interfere in my domestic affairs?" demanded
old Donald, with dignity. "Answer me that, Mr. Cameron."
"Right or no right," replied Long John, "before any man lays a finger on
Thomas there, he will need to begin with myself. And," he added, grimly,
"there are not many in the county who would care for that job."
Old Donald Finch looked at his visitor in speechless amazement. At
length Long John grew excited.
"Man alive!" he exclaimed, "it's a quare father you are. You may be
thinking it disgrace, but the section will be proud that there is a boy
in it brave enough to stand up for the weak against a brute bully." And
then he proceeded to tell the tale as he had heard it from Don, with
such strong passion and such rude vigor, that in spite of himself old
Donald found his rage vanish, and his heart began to move within him
toward his son.
"And it is for that," cried Long John, dashing his fist into his open
palm, "it is for that that you would punish your son. May God forgive
me! but the man that lays a finger on Thomas yonder, will come into sore
grief this day. Ay, lad," continued Long John, striding toward Thomas
and gripping him by the shoulders with both hands, "you are a man, and
you stood up for the weak yon day, and if you efer will be wanting a
friend, remember John Cameron."
"Well, well, Mr. Cameron," said old Donald, who was more deeply moved
than he cared to show, "it maybe as you say. It maybe the lad was not so
much in the wrong."
"In the wrong?" roared Long John, blowing his nose hard. "In the wrong?
May my boys ever be in the wrong in such a way!"
"Well," said old Donald, "we shall see about this. And if Thomas has
suffered injustice it is not his father will refuse to see him righted."
And soon they were all off to the meeting at the school-house.
Thomas was the last to leave the room. As usual, he had not been able
to find a word, but stood white and trembling, but as he found himself
alone with his mother, once more his stolid reserve broke down, and he
burst into a strange and broken cry, "Oh, mother, mother," but he could
get no further.
"Never mind, laddie," said his mother, "you have borne yourself well,
and your mother is proud of you."
At the investigation held in the school-house, it became clear that,
though the insubordination of both Jimmie and Thomas was undeniable, the
provocation by the master had been very great. And though the minister,
who was superintendent of instruction for the district, insisted that
the master's authority must, at all costs, be upheld, such was the rage
of old Donald Finch and Long John Cameron that the upshot was that the
master took his departure from the section, glad enough to escape with
bones unbroken.
More
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"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... Our Vanished Princess
Then came a story told in fierce and excited whisperings, Arnold the speaker, prompted sometimes by his companions; Stone, and the few soldiers grouped about him, awe-stricken and dismayed. Blakely had started up from his litter, his face white wi... Out Of A Pioneer's Trunk
It was a slightly cynical, but fairly good-humored crowd that had gathered before a warehouse on Long Wharf in San Francisco one afternoon in the summer of '51. Although the occasion was an auction, the bidders' chances more than usually hazardous... Out Of The Night
"There is but one remedy for your complaint." Doctor Suydam settled deeper into his chair. "Marry the girl." "That is the only piece of your professional advice I ever cared to follow. But how?" "Any way you can--use force if necessary--only ... Out Of The Storm A Man
He stood blinking in the doorway, white-sheeted with snow from head to heel. As his eyes became accustomed to the light they passed with surprise from the men to the young women. A flash of recognition lit in them, but he offered no word of greeti... Overheard In The Summer-house
"Dave, what do you think! I saw Link Merwell this morning!" It was Laura who spoke, as she burst into her brother's room, where the youth was looking over the things he expected to take with him on his trip West. "You saw Link Merwell!" cried... Padre Ignazio
At Santa Ysabel del Mar the season was at one of its moments when the air hangs quiet over land and sea. The old breezes had gone; the new ones were not yet risen. The flowers in the mission garden opened wide, for no wind came by day or night to ... Pals
He was a red-headed, stringy boy between eighteen and nineteen years old. His hands were laced back of the head, but he waggled a foot by way of greeting. "'Lo, June," he called. "What you doin'?" she demanded. "Oh, jes' watchin' the grass... Pardners
"Most all the old quotations need fixing," said Joyce in tones forbidding dispute. "For instance, the guy that alluded to marriages germinating in heaven certainly got off on the wrong foot. He meant pardnerships. The same works ain't got capacit... Pardners
"Looks like you'd say somethin' about them pancakes instead of settin' there shovelin'." "Haven't I told you regular every morning for six months that they was great pancakes? Couldn't you let me off for once?" The two partners glared at each... Partners In Peril
Into the office of Blister Haines, J. P., a young man walked. He was a berry-brown youth, in the trappings of the range-rider, a little thin and stringy, perhaps, but well-poised and light-stepping. With one swift glance the fat man swept his vi... Patty Goes To Town
Ma Watts called loudly from the doorway and numerous small Wattses appeared as if by magic from the direction of the creek and the cottonwood thicket. Dinner consisted of flabby salt pork, swimming in its own grease, into which were dipped by mean... Peace And A Sunset
Red Linton had recovered--there was no doubt of that. For Linton, though a trifle pale, was vigorous. Vigor was in the look of him as he stood, a slow grin on his face, beside Barbara Morgan at the entrance of the patio of the Rancho Seco ranchhou... Peace Talk
Across the Frying-pan an Indian stood boldly out upon a jutting point of rock and raised a hand in the sweeping upward motion of the peace-sign. The questing bullets that came seeking for bone and flesh among the rocks and bushes came no more when t... Peaceful Hart Ranch
It was somewhere in the seventies when old Peaceful Hart woke to a realization that gold-hunting and lumbago do not take kindly to one another, and the fact that his pipe and dim-eyed meditation appealed to him more keenly than did his prospector's ... Peaceful Returns
That afternoon when the four-thirty-five rushed in from the parched desert and slid to a panting halt beside the station platform, Peaceful Hart emerged from the smoker, descended quietly to the blistering planks, and nodded through the open window ... Peppajee Jim Heap Sabes
Peppajee Jim had meditated long in the shade of his wikiup, and now, when the sun changed from a glaring ball of intense, yellow heat to a sullen red disk hanging low over the bluffs of Snake River, he rose, carefully knocked the ashes from his litt... Pete's Girl
She stood in the doorway, a patched and ragged Cinderella of the desert. Upon her slim, ill-poised figure the descending sun slanted a shaft of glory. It caught in a spotlight the cheap, dingy gown, the coarse stockings through the holes of which ... Pick Your Footing!
The three sat irresolutely on their horses at the tunnel's end of the Gap, staring out over the valley of the Redwater and at the mountains beyond. Bud's face was haggard and the lines of his mouth were hard. It was so vast a country in which to loo... Pictures And Plans And Mysterious Footsteps
When Lite objected to her staying altogether at the Lazy A, Jean assured him that she was being terribly practical and cautious and businesslike, and pointed out to him that staying there would save Pard and herself the trip back and forth each day,... Pierre Becomes Alarmed About His Property
The next time Holliwell came, he brought the books, and, finding Pierre at home, he sat with his host after supper and talked men's talk of the country; of game, of ranching, a little gossip, stories of travel, humorous experiences, and Joan sat i... Pierre Lays His Hand On A Heart
Maud Upper was the first girl of her own age that Joan had ever seen. Joan went in terror of her and Maud knew this and enjoyed her ascendancy over an untamed creature twice her size. There was the crack of a lion-tamer's whip in the tone of her i... Pierre Takes Steps To Preserve His Property
A log fell forward and Joan lifted her head. She had not come to an end of Isabella's tragedy nor of her own memories, but something other than the falling log had startled her; a light, crunching step upon the snow. She looked toward the windo... Pine Ridge Range Ablaze
At dusk that night a glow was in the southern sky, and the wind carried the pungent odor of burning grass. Dick went out on the porch after dinner, and sniffed the air uneasily. "I don't much like the look of it," he admitted to Sir Redmond. "It... Pink As Chappyrone
Rowdy was sprawled ungracefully upon somebody's bunk--he neither knew nor cared whose--and he was snoring unmelodiously, and not dreaming a thing; for when a cow-puncher has nothing in particular to do, he sleeps to atone for the weary hours when he... Pink In A Threatening Mood
Eagle Creek Smith had at last reached the point where he must face new conditions and change established customs. He could no longer ignore the barrenness of the range, or close his eyes to the grim fact that his cattle were facing starvation--and t... Play That Was Work And Work That Was Play
The silence that followed Leslie's frightened cry, as he hurled himself to the ground beside the old man he had struck, lasted but an instant. Then, recovering their scattered wits, Herbert and Monty stooped and lifted the Captain's head. The m... Playing For Time
"They've got 'em. Caught them on Dry Creek, just below Green Forks." Helen Messiter, just finishing her breakfast at the hotel preparatory to leaving in her machine for the ranch, laid down her knife and fork and looked with dilated eyes at Denver... Poleon Doret's Hand Is Quicker Than His Tongue
The trader's house sat back of the post, farther up on the hill. It was a large, sleepy house, sprawling against the sunny side of the slope, as if it had sought the southern exposure for warmth, and had dozed off one sultry afternoon and never wa... Pot Shots
There was an old mission at the outskirts of the town of Skull, established many years before there were any other buildings in the vicinity. The Spanish fathers had built it for the Indians, and it remained a sanctuary, in spite of the roughness a... Progress Of The Lost Dog
It was not even an hour's visit that the Virginian was able to pay his lady love. But neither had he come a hundred miles to see her. The necessities of his wandering work had chanced to bring him close enough for a glimpse of her, and this glimps... Prophets Of Evil
The difference between success and failure is sometimes only a hair's breadth, the turning of a hand, and although the man who loses is frequently as deserving of commendation as the man who wins he seldom receives it, and Bruce knew that this wou...