Poleon Doret's Hand Is Quicker Than His Tongue
: The BarrierThe 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 waked up from its slumber.
It was of great, square-hewn timbers, built in the Russian style,
the under side of each log hollowed to fit snugly over its fellow
underneath, upon w
in effect the foot-thick walls were tongued and grooved and, through
years of seasoning, become so tinder dry that no frosts or heats
could penetrate them. Many architects had worked on it as it grew,
room by room, through the years, and every man had left behind the
mark of his individuality, from Pretty Charlie the pilot, who swung
an axe better than any Indian on the river, to Larsen the ship's
carpenter, who worked with an adze and who starved the summer
following on the Koyukuk. It had stretched a bit year by year, for
the trader's family had been big in the early days when hunters and
miners of both breeds came in to trade, to loaf, and to swap stories
with him. Through the winter days, when the caribou were in the
North and the moose were scarce, whole families of natives came and
camped there, for Alluna, his squaw, drew to her own blood, and they
felt it their due to eat of the bounty of him who ruled them like an
overlord; but when the first goose honked they slipped away until,
by the time the salmon showed, the house was empty again and silent,
save for Alluna and the youngsters. In return these people brought
him many skins and much fresh meat, for which he paid no price, and,
with the fall, his cache was filled with fish of which the bulk were
dried king salmon as long as a grown man's leg and worth a dollar
apiece to any traveller.
There are men whose wits are quick as light, and whose muscles have
been so tempered and hardened by years of exercise that they are
like those of a wild animal. Of such was John Gale; but with all his
intelligence he was very slow at reading, hence he chose to spend
his evenings with his pipe and his thoughts, rather than with a
book, as lonesome men are supposed to do. He did with little sleep,
and many nights he sat alone till Alluna and Necia would be awakened
by his heavy step as he went to his bed. That he was a man who could
really think, and that his thoughts were engrossing, no one doubted
who saw him sitting enthralled at such a time, for he neither
rocked, nor talked, nor moved a muscle hour after hour, and only his
eyes were alive. To-night the spell was on him again, and he sat
bulked up in his chair, rocklike and immovable.
From the open door of the next room he could hear Necia and the
little ones. She had made them ready for bed, and was telling them
the tale of the snow-bird's spot.
"So when all the other birds had failed," he heard her say, "the
little snowbird asked for a chance to try. He flew and flew, and
just before he came to the edge of the world where the two Old Women
lived he pulled out all of his feathers. When he came to them he
said:"
"'I am very cold. May I warm myself at your fire?'"
"They saw how little and naked he was, and how he shivered, so they
did not throw sticks at him, but allowed him to creep close. He
watched his chance, and when they were not looking he picked up a
red-hot coal in his beak and flew back home with it as fast as ever
he could--and that is how fire came to the Indian people."
"Of course the coal was hot, and it burned his throat till a drop of
blood came through, so ever since that day the snowbird has had a
red spot on his throat."
The two children spoke out in their mother's tongue, clamoring for
the story of the Good Beaver who saved the hunter's life, and she
began, this time in the language of the Yukon people, while Gale
listened to the low music of her voice, muffled and broken by the
log partition.
His squaw came in, her arrival unannounced except by the scuff of
her moccasins, and seated herself against the wall. She did not use
a chair, of which there were several, but crouched upon a bear-skin,
her knees beneath her chin, her toes a trifle drawn together. She
sat thus for a long time, while Necia continued her stories and put
the little ones to bed. Soon the girl came to say good-night.
John Gale had never kissed his daughter, and, as it was not a custom
of her mother's race, she never missed the caresses. On rare
occasions the old man romped with the little ones and took them in
his arms and acted as other fathers act, but he had never done these
things with her. When she had gone he spoke without moving.
"She'll never marry Poleon Doret."
"Why?" inquired Alluna.
"He ain't her kind."
"Poleon is a good man."
"None better. But she'll marry some--some white man."
"Poleon is white," the squaw declared.
"He is and he ain't. I mean she'll marry an 'outside' man. He ain't
good enough, and--well, he ain't her kind." Alluna's grunt of
indignation was a sufficient answer to this, but he resumed, jerking
his head in the direction of the barracks. "She's been talking a lot
with this--this soldier."
"Him good man, too, I guess," said the wife.
"The hell he is!" cried the trader, fiercely. "He don't mean any
good to her."
"Him got a woman, eh?" said the other.
"No, no! I reckon he's single all right, but you don't understand.
He's different from us people. He's--he's--" Gale paused, at a loss
for words to convey his meaning. "Well, he ain't the kind that would
marry a half-breed."
Alluna pondered this cryptic remark unsuccessfully, and was still
seeking its solution when her lord continued:
"If she really got to loving him it would be bad for all of us."
Evidently Alluna read some hidden meaning back of these words, for
she spoke quickly, but in her own tongue now, as she was accustomed
to do when excited or alarmed.
"Then this thing must cease at once. The risk is too great. Better
that you kill him before it is too late."'
"Hardly that," said the trader.
"Think of the little ones and of me," the squaw insisted, and,
encouraged by his silence, continued: "Why not? Soon the nights will
grow dark. The river runs swiftly, and it never gives up its dead. I
can do it if you dare not. No one would suspect me."
Gale rose and laid his big hand firmly on her shoulder.
"Don't talk like that. There has been too much blood let already.
We'll allow things to run along a bit as they are. There's time
enough to worry."
He rose, but instead of going to his room he strode out of the house
and walked northward up the trail, passing through the town and out
of sight. Alluna sat huddled up in the doorway, her shawl drawn
close about her head, and waited for him until the late sun--which
at this time of year revolves in a great circle overhead--dipped
down below the distant mountains for the midnight hour, then rolled
slanting out again a few points farther north, to begin its long
journey anew; but he did not return. At last she crept stiffly in-
doors, like an old and weary woman, the look of fright still staring
in her eyes.
About nine o'clock the next morning a faint and long-drawn cry came
from the farthest limits of the little camp. An instant later it was
echoed closer, and then a dog began to howl. Before its voice had
died away another took it up sadly, and within three breaths, from
tip and down the half-mile of scanty water-front, came the cry of
"Steam-bo-o-a-t!" Cabin doors opened and men came out, glanced up
the stream and echoed the call, while from sleepy nooks and sun-
warmed roofs wolf-dogs arose, yawning and stretching. Those who had
slept late dressed as they hurried towards the landing-place,
joining in the plaint, till men and malamutes united in the shrill,
slow cry.
Down-stream came the faint-sighing whoof-whoof of a steamer, and
then out from behind the bend she burst, running on the swift spring
current with the speed of a deer. She blew hoarsely before the tardy
ones had reached the bank, and when abreast of the town her bell
clanged, the patter of her great wheel ceased, she reversed her
engines and swung gracefully till her bow was up against the
current, then ploughed back, inching in slowly until, with much
shouting and the sound of many gongs, she slid her nose quietly into
the bank beneath the trading-post and was made fast. Her cabin-deck
was lined with passengers, most of whom were bound for the
"outside," although still clad in mackinaw and overalls. They all
gazed silently at the hundred men of Flambeau, who stared back at
them till the gang-plank was placed, when they came ashore to
stretch their legs. One of them, however, made sufficient noise to
make up for the silence of the others. Before the steamer had
grounded he appeared among the Siwash deck-hands, his head and
shoulders towering above them, his white teeth gleaming from a face
as dark as theirs, shouting to his friends ashore and pantomiming
his delight to the two Gale children who had come with Alluna to
welcome him.
"Who's dose beeg, tall people w'at stan' 'longside of you, Miz
Gale?" he called to her; then, shading his eyes elaborately, he
cried, in a great voice: "Wall! wal! I b'lieve dat's M'sieu Jean an'
Mam'selle Mollee. Ba Gar! Dey get so beeg w'ile I'm gone I don' know
dem no more!"
The youthful Gales wriggled at this delicious flattery and dug their
tiny moccasined toes into the sand. Molly courtesied nervously and
continuously as she clung to her mother, and the boy showed a gap
where two front teeth had been and was now filled by a very pink
tongue.
"Wen you goin' stop grow, anyhow, you two, eh?" continued the
Frenchman, and then, in a tone of sadness: "If I t'ink you ack lak'
dis, I don' buy all dese present. Dese t'ing ain' no good for ole
folks. I guess I'll t'row dem away." He made as if to heave a bundle
that he carried into the river, whereupon the children shrieked at
him so shrilly that he laughed long and incontinently at the success
of his sally.
Lieutenant Burrell had come with the others, for the arrival of a
steamboat called for the presence of every soul in camp, and, spying
Necia in the outskirts of the crowd, he took his place beside her.
He felt constrained, after what had happened on the previous
evening, but she seemed to have forgotten the episode, and greeted
him with her usual frankness. Even had she remembered it, there was
nothing he could say in explanation or in apology. He had lain awake
for hours thinking of her, and had fallen asleep with her still in
his mind, for the revelation of her blood had come as a shock to
him, the full force of which he could not appreciate until he had
given himself time to think of it calmly.
He had sprung from a race of Slave-holders, from a land where birth
and breed are more than any other thing, where a drop of impure
blood effects an ineradicable stain; therefore the thought of
this girl's ignoble parentage was so repugnant to him that the more
he pondered it the more pitiful it seemed, the more monstrous. Lying
awake and thinking of her in the stillness of his quarters, it had
seemed a very unfortunate and a very terrible thing. During his
morning duties the vision of her had been fresh before him again,
and his constant contemplation of the matter had wrought a change in
his attitude towards the girl, of which he was uncomfortably
conscious and which he was glad to see she did not perceive.
"There are some of the lucky men from El Dorado Creek," she informed
him, pointing out certain people on the deck. "They are going out to
the States to get something to eat. They say that nothing like those
mines have ever been heard of in the world. I wish father had gone
up last year when the news came."
"Why didn't he?" asked the Lieutenant. "Surely he must have been
among the first to learn of it."
"Yes. 'Stick' George sent him word a year ago last fall, when he
made the first discovery, but for some reason father wouldn't go."
The men were pouring off the boat now, and through the crowd came
the tall Frenchman, bearing in the hollow of each arm a child who
clasped a bundle to its breast. His eyes grew brighter at sight of
Necia, and he broke into a flood of patois; they fairly bombarded
each other with quick questions and fragmentary answers till she
remembered her companion, who had fallen back a pace and was
studying the newcomer, whereupon she turned.
"Oh, I forgot my manners. Lieutenant Burrell, this is Napoleon
Doret--our Poleon!" she added, with proud emphasis.
Doret checked his volubility and stared at the soldier, whom he
appeared to see for the first time. The little brown people in his
arms stared likewise, and it seemed to Burrell that a certain
distrust was in each of the three pairs of eyes, only in those of
the man there was no shyness. Instead, the Canadian looked him over
gravely from head to heel, seeming to note each point of the
unfamiliar attire; then he inquired, without removing his glance:
"Were'bouts you live, eh?"
"I live at the post yonder," said the Lieutenant.
"Wat biznesse you work at?"
"I am a soldier."
"Wat for you come 'ere? Dere's nobody fightin' roun' dis place."
"The Lieutenant has been stationed here, foolish," said Necia. "Come
up to the store quick and tell me what it's like at Dawson." With a
farewell nod to Burrell, she went off with Doret, whose speech was
immediately released again.
In spite of the man's unfriendliness, Burrell watched him with
admiration. There were no heels to his tufted fur boots, and yet he
stood a good six feet two, as straight as a pine sapling, and it
needed no second glance to tell of what metal he was made. His
spirit showed in his whole body, in the set of his head, and, above
all, in his dark, warm face, which glowed with eagerness when he
talked, and that was ever--when he was not singing.
"I never see so many people since I lef Quebec," he was saying.
"She's jus' lak' beeg city--mus' be t'ree, four t'ousan' people.
Every day some more dey come, an' all night dey dance an' sing an'
drink w'iskee. Ba gosh, dat's fine place!"
"Are there lots of white women?" asked the girl.
"Yes, two, t'ree hondred. Mos' of dem is work in dance-halls. Dere's
one fine gal I see, name' Marie Bourgette. I tell you 'bout her by-
an'-by."
"Oh, Poleon, you're in love!" cried Necia.
"No, siree!" he denied. "Dere's none of dem gal look half so purty
lak' you." He would have said more, but spying the trader at the
entrance of the store, he went to him, straightway launching into
the details of their commercial enterprise, which, happily, had been
most successful. Before they could finish, the crowd from the boat
began to drift in, some of them buying drinks at the bar and others
making purchases of tobacco and so forth, but for the main part
merely idling about curiously.
Among the merchandise of the Post there were for sale a scanty
assortment of fire-arms, cheap shot-guns, and a Winchester or two,
displayed in a rack behind the counter in a manner to attract the
eye of such native hunters as might need them, and with the rest
hung a pair of Colt's revolvers. One of the new arrivals, who had
separated from the others at the front, now called to Gale:
"Are those Colts for sale? Mine was stolen the other day." Evidently
he was accustomed to Yukon prices, for he showed no surprise at the
figure the trader named, but took the guns and tested each of them,
whereupon the old man knew that here was no "Cheechako," as
tenderfeet are known in the North, although the man's garb had
deceived him at first glance. The stranger balanced the weapons, one
in either hand, then he did the "double roll" neatly, following
which he executed a move that Gale had not witnessed for many years.
He extended one of the guns, butt foremost, as if surrendering it,
the action being free and open, save for the fact that his
forefinger was crooked and thrust through the trigger-guard; then,
with the slightest jerk of the wrist, the gun spun about, the handle
jumped into his palm, and instantly there was a click as his thumb
flipped the hammer. It was the old "road-agent spin," which Gale as
a boy had practised hours at a time; but that this man was in
earnest he showed by glancing upward sharply when the trader
laughed.
"This one hangs all right," he said; "give me a box of cartridges."
He emptied his gold-sack in payment for the gun and ammunition, then
remarked: "That pretty nearly cleans me. If I had the price I'd
take them both."
Gale wondered what need induced this fellow to spend his last few
dollars on a fire-arm, but he said nothing until the man had
loosened the bottom buttons of his vest and slipped the weapon
inside the band of his trousers, concealing its handle beneath the
edge of his waistcoat. Then he inquired:
"Bound for the outside?"
"No. I'm locating here."
The trader darted a quick glance at him. He did not like this man.
"There ain't much doing in this camp; it's a pretty poor place," he
said, guardedly.
"I'll put in with you, from its looks," agreed the other. "It's got
too many soldiers to be worth a damn." He snarled this bitterly,
with a peculiar leering lift of his lip, as if his words tasted
badly.
"Most of the boys are going up-river," said Gale.
"Well, those hills look as if they had gold in them," said the
stranger, pointing vaguely. "I'm going to prospect."
Gale knew instinctively that the fellow was lying, for his hands
were not those of a miner; but there was nothing to be said. His
judgment was verified, however, when Poleon drew him aside later and
said:
"You know dat feller?"
"No."
"He's bad man."
"How do you know?"
"She's leave Dawson damn queeck. Dose Mounted Police t'row 'im on de
boat jus' before we lef." Then he told a story that he had heard.
The man, it seemed, had left Skagway between two suns, upon the
disruption of Soapy Smith's band of desperadoes, and had made for
the interior, but had been intercepted at the Pass by two members of
the Citizens' Committee who came upon him suddenly. Pretending to
yield, he had executed some unexpected coup as he delivered his gun,
for both men fell, shot through the body. No one knew just what it
was he did, nor cared to question him overmuch. The next heard of
him was at Lake Bennett, over the line, where the Mounted Police
recognized him and sent him on. They marked him well, however, and
passed him on from post to post as they had driven others whose
records were known; but he had lost himself in the confusion at
Dawson for a few weeks, until the scarlet-coated riders searched him
out, disarmed him, and forced him sullenly aboard this steamer. The
offscourings of the Canadian frontier were drifting back into their
native country to settle.
Old Man Gale cared little for this, for he had spent his life among
such men, but as he watched the fellow a scheme outlined itself in
his head. Evidently the man dared not go farther down the river, for
there was nothing save Indian camps and a Mission or two this side
of St. Michael's, and at that point there was a court and many
soldiers, where one was liable to meet the penalty of past misdeeds,
hence he was probably resolved to stop here, and, judging by his
record, he was a man of settled convictions. Continued persecution
is wont to stir certain natures to such reckless desperation that
interference is dangerous, and Gale, recalling his sullen look and
ill-concealed contempt for the soldiers, put the stranger down as a
man of this type. Furthermore, he had been impressed by the fellow's
remarkable dexterity of wrist.
The trader stepped to the door, and, seeing Burrell on the deck of
the steamer, went down towards him. It was a long chance, but the
stakes were big and worth the risk. He had thought much during the
night previous--in fact, for many hours--and the morning had found
him still undecided, wherefore he took this course.
"Necia tells me that you aim to keep law and order here," he began,
abruptly, having drawn the young man aside.
"Those are my instructions," said Burrell, "but they are so vague--"
"Well! This camp is bigger than it was an hour ago, and it 'ain't
improved any in the growth. Yonder goes the new citizen." He pointed
to the stranger, who had returned to the steamer for his baggage and
was descending the gang-plank beneath them, a valise in each hand.
"He's a thief and a murderer, and we don't want him here. Now, it's
up to you."
"I don't understand," said the Lieutenant, whereupon the trader told
him Doret's tale. "You and your men were sent here to keep things
peaceable," he concluded, "and I reckon when a man is too tough for
the Canuck police he is tough enough for you to tackle. There ain't
a lock and key in the camp, and we ain't had a killing or a stealing
in ten years. We'd like to keep it that way."
"Well--you see--I know nothing of that shooting affray, so I doubt
if my authority would permit me to interfere," the soldier mused,
half to himself.
"I allowed you were to use your own judgment," said the elder man.
"So I am, I suppose. There is one chance, Mr. Gale. If you'll back
me up I'll send him on down to St. Michael's. That is the most I can
do."
The Lieutenant outlined his plan, and as he went on the trader
nodded approval.
The young man gazed back at him so squarely, his eyes were so
pleasant and friendly, his whole person breathed such straight-up
honesty and freshness, that shame arose in the old man, and he had
hard shift to keep his glance from wavering. Without forethought he
answered, impulsively:
"He's desperate and he's dangerous. I sold him a '45' just now." He
was about to tell him where the man wore it, and to add a word
concerning his dexterity with the gun, when the very fearless
deliberation of the youth deterred him. On second thought, Gale
yielded to an impulse to wait and see how Meade Burrell would act
under fire. If the soldier emerged scathless, it would give him a
line on his character; if he did not--well, that would be even
better. The sight of his blue and brass awoke in the elder man dread
and cowardice, emotions he had never experienced before. Anyhow, he
owed it to himself, to Necia, and to the others to find out what
kind of man this soldier was.
The crowd was coming back to the steamer, which had discharged her
few bundles of freight, and there was no one inside the log post as
they entered except Doret and the stranger, who had deposited his
baggage at the rear and was talking with the Frenchman at the bar.
At sight of the Lieutenant he became silent, and turned carelessly,
although with a distrustful stare. Burrell wasted no time.
"Are you going to locate here?" he began.
"Yes."
"I notice you go skeleton-rigged," the soldier continued, indicating
the man's baggage. "Pretty small outfit for a miner, isn't it?"
"It's plenty for me."
"Have you enough money to buy your season's grub?"
"I guess that's my business."
"Pardon me, it is my business also."
"What is this--a hold-up?" The man laughed harshly, at the same time
swinging around till he faced his questioner. Gale noted that his
right hand now hung directly over the spot where his suspenders
buttoned on the right side. The trader moved aside and took up a
position at some distance.
"My orders are to see that all new-comers either have an outfit or
are able to buy one," said Burrell. "Those that are not equipped
properly are to be sent down-river to St. Michael's, where there is
plenty of everything and where they will be taken care of by the
government. Mr. Gale has only sufficient provisions to winter the
men already in this district."
"I can take care of myself," said the man, angrily, "whether I'm
broke or not, and I don't want any of your interference." He shot a
quick glance at Poleon Doret, but the Frenchman's face was like
wood, and his hand still held the neck of the whiskey bottle he had
set out for the stranger before the others entered. Gale leaned
against the opposite counter, his countenance inert but for the
eyes, which were fixed upon the Lieutenant.
"Come," said the officer, peremptorily, "I have heard all about you,
and you are not the kind of citizen we want here, but if you have
enough money for an outfit I can't send you away. If you haven't--"
"I'm broke," said the man, but at the note in his voice Poleon
Doret's muscles tightened, and Burrell, who also read a sinister
message in the tone, slid his heavy service revolver from its
holster beneath his coat.
He had never done this thing before, and it galled him. He had never
drawn a weapon on a man, and this playing at policeman became
suddenly most repugnant, stirring in him the uncomfortable feeling
that he was doing a mean thing, and not only a mean thing, but one
of which he ought to be heartily ashamed. He felt decidedly
amateurish, especially when he saw that the man apparently intended
no resistance and made no move. However, he was in for it now, and
must end as he had begun.
"Give me your gun," he said; "I'll unload it and give it back to you
at the gang-plank."
"All right, you've got the upper hand," said the man through lips
that had gone white. Drawing his weapon from beneath his vest, he
presented it to the officer, butt foremost, hammer underneath. The
cylinder reposed naturally in the palm of his hand, and the tip of
his forefinger was thrust through the trigger-guard.
Burrell lowered the barrel of his revolver and put out his left hand
for the other's weapon. Suddenly the man's wrist jerked, the soldier
saw a blue flicker of sunlight on the steel as it whirled, saw the
arm of Poleon Doret fling itself across the bar with the speed of a
striking serpent, heard a smash of breaking glass, felt the shock of
a concussion, and the spatter of some liquid in his face. Then he
saw the man's revolver on the floor half-way across the room, saw
fragments of glass with it, and saw the fellow step backward,
snatching at the fingers of his right hand. A smell of powder-smoke
and rank whiskey was in the air.
There are times when a man's hand will act more swiftly than his
tongue. Napoleon Doret had seen the manner of the stranger's
surrender of his gun, and, realizing too late what it meant, had
acted. At the very instant of the fellow's treachery, Doret struck
with his bottle just in time to knock the weapon from his hand, but
not in time to prevent its discharge. The bullet was lodged in the
wall a foot from where Gale stood. As the stranger staggered back,
the Frenchman vaulted the bar, but, though swift as a cat, the
soldier, who had also leaped, was before him. Aiming a sweeping
downward blow with his Colt, Burrell clipped the Skagway man just
above the ear, and he reeled; then as he fell the officer struck
wickedly again at his opponent's skull, but Doret seized him by the
arm.
"Ba Gar, don't kill 'im twice!"
Burrell wrenched his arm free and turned on Doret a face that
remained long in the Frenchman's memory, a face suffused with fury
and convulsed like that of a sprinter at the finish of a race. The
two men stared at each other over the fallen figure for a brief
moment, until the soldier gained mastery of himself and sheathed his
weapon, when Poleon smiled.
"I spoil' a quart of good w'iskee on you. Dat's wort' five dollar."
The Lieutenant wiped the liquor from his face.
"Quick work, Doret," he said. "I owe you one."
Gale's face was hidden as he bent over the prostrate man, fingering
a long and ragged cut which laid the fellow's scalp open from back
of the ear to the temple, but he mumbled something unintelligible.
"Is he hurt badly?"
"No, you chipped him too low," said the trader. "I told you he was
bad."
"He's goin' have nice birt'-mark, anyhow," said Doret, going back of
the bar for some water. They revived the man, then bound up his
injury hastily, and as the steamer cast off they led him to the bank
and passed his grip-sacks to a roustabout. He said no word as he
walked unsteadily up the plank, but turned and stared malignantly at
them from the deck; then, as the craft swung outward into the
stream, he grinned through the trickle of blood that stole down from
beneath his wide hat, if the convulsive grimace he made could be
termed a grin, and cried:
"I'd like to introduce myself, for I'm coming back to winter with
you, Lieutenant! My name is Runnion." And until the steamer was
hidden behind the bend below they saw him standing there gazing back
at them fixedly.
As Burrell left the two men at the store, he gave his hand frankly
to the French-Canadian, and said, while his cheeks flushed:
"I want to thank you for saving me from my own awkwardness."
Doret became even more embarrassed than the Lieutenant at this show
of gratitude, and grunted churlishly. But when the young man had
gone he turned to Gale, who had watched them silently, and said:
"He's nice young feller, ole man. Sapre! Wen he's mad his eye got so
red lak' my ondershirt."
But the trader made no reply.
More
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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... 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... Prosper Comes To A Decision
Perhaps, in spite of his gruesome boast as to dead men, it was as much to satisfy his own spirit as to comfort Joan's that Prosper actually did undertake a journey to the cabin that had belonged to Pierre. It was true that Prosper had never been a... Prosperity And Parting
They were both so excited that at first they couldn't talk, but could only stare at each other in speechless delight. Jim was trembling, for he was still weak from his long illness, and he steadied himself by attentions to Zaraza and by bidding Jo... Prove It! Prove It!
Sam Bleyer, superintendent of the big Verinder mines, had been up to see his chief at the hotel and was passing the private sitting-room of the Farquhar party when a voice hailed him. He bowed inclusively to Lady Farquhar, Miss Seldon, and Miss Dw... Prowlers In Camp
"Huh! so it's you, is it!" cried Link Merwell, in surly tones. "So you are after my mine!" cried Roger, sharply. "Well, I'll tell you right now, if you locate it, it won't do you any good." "Bah! We know what we are doing," retorted the youth ... Punch Verses Prestige
It seems to be a popular belief among those who are unfamiliar with the business of making motion pictures that all dangerous or difficult feats are merely tricks of the camera, and that the actors themselves take no risks whatever. The truth is th... Pursuit
Fire flames darted occasionally from the high tulles, licking the darkness like the tongues of venomous serpents. Rifles cracked, and bullets, fired at random, buzzed across the sand flats. Kid Wolf had an uncomfortable few minutes ahead of him. ... Quality And Equality
To the circle at Bennington, a letter from Bear Creek was always a welcome summons to gather and hear of doings very strange to Vermont. And when the tale of the changed babies arrived duly by the post, it created a more than usual sensation, and ... Rangers
Longorio stared first at the huddled, perspiring man beside the telephone and then at the frightened woman. "Is that the truth?" he demanded, harshly. "Yes," Austin answered. "They are bringing the body to this side. You know what that means." ... Realizing A Passion
Ruth stood for a long time on the porch after Hagar's departure, gripped by emotions, that had had no duplicates in all her days. Never before had she thought herself capable of experiencing such emotions. For the man she loved was in danger. She ... Receiving At Los Lobos
The trip to Lasalle County was mere pastime. All three of the outfits kept in touch with each other, camping far enough apart to avoid any conflict in night-herding the remudas. The only incident to mar the pleasure of the outing was the discovery o... Red Brings Trouble
After a night spent on the plain and a cigarette for his breakfast, Hopalong, grouchy and hungry, rode slowly to the place appointed for his meeting with Red, but Mr. Connors was over two hours late. It was now mid-forenoon and Hopalong occupied his... Red River Station
When the spirit of a man is once broken, he becomes useless. On the trail it is necessary to have some diversion from hard work, long hours, and exposure to the elements. With man and beast, from the Brazos to Red River was a fire test of physical e... Relays
The horses from St. Vincent already wheezed from the run, but the mounts of the posse were staggering completely blown. Ever since they left Rickett they had been going at close to top speed and the last rush finished them; at least seven of that ch... Rescue Requited
A change had come over the spirit of Camp Sandy's dream. The garrison that had gone to bed the previous night, leaving Natzie silent, watchful, wistful at the post commander's door, had hardly a thought that was not full of sympathy and admiration... Revelations
It was the Mexican woman, Maria. As Buck recognized her he rose quietly and moved swiftly toward the door. But if he had hoped to catch her unawares, he was disappointed. He had scarcely taken a step when, through the telltale mirror, he saw her s... Riders In The Background
Luck, as explained elsewhere, was sweating and swearing at the heat in Bear Canon. The sun had crept around so that it shone full into a certain bowlder-strewn defile, and up this sunbaked gash old Applehead was toiling, leading the scrawniest burro... Riders Of The Purple Sage
Black Star and Night, answering to spur, swept swiftly westward along the white, slow-rising, sage-bordered trail. Venters heard a mournful howl from Ring, but Whitie was silent. The blacks settled into their fleet, long-striding gallop. T... Riding The Ranges
THE shepherds were home in the oasis that evening, and next day the tragedy of the sheep was a thing of the past. No other circumstance of Hare's four months with the Naabs had so affected him as this swift inevitable sweeping away of the flock; n... Robert Grant Burns Gets Help
"You know the brand, don't you?" the proprietor of the hotel which housed the Great Western Company asked, with the tolerant air which the sophisticated wear when confronted by ignorance. "Easy enough to locate the outfit, by the cattle brand. Wha... Rogers Takes A Hand
The trail herd had made good progress through the valley, and Rogers, aided by the Star men, had kept them going. The men feared no interference with the work, for they had terrorized the ranchers in the valley until the latter well knew the futil... Rosemary Allen Does A Small Sum In Addition
Miss Rosemary Allen, having wielded a wet gunny sack until her eyes were red and smarting and her lungs choked with cinders and her arms so tired she could scarcely lift them, was permitted by fate to be almost the first person who discovered that h... Rowdy Finds Happiness
Miss Conroy was rather listlessly endeavoring to persuade the First Reader class that "catch" should not be pronounced "ketch," when she saw Rowdy ride past the window. Intuition of something amiss sent her to the door before he reached it. "Can'... Rowdy Hires A New Boss
Next morning, after breakfast, Mr. Rodway followed Vaughan out to the stable, and repeated Bill Brown's question. "I'd like to know where yuh got this horse," he began, with an apologetic sort of determination in his tone. "He happens to belong to... Rowdy In A Tough Place
Rowdy, with nice calculation, met Miss Conroy just as she had left the school-house, and noted with much satisfaction that she was riding alone. Miss Conroy, if she had been at all observant, must have seen the light of some fixed purpose shining in... Rowdy Promoted
Rowdy rode closer. "If you don't mind paying duty," he began tentatively, "I can put you next to a range over the line, where I'll guarantee feed and water the year round for every hoof you own." Eagle Creek lifted his head and looked at him "Wher... Run To Earth
When word came to Denver and the other punchers of the Lazy D that Reddy had been pressed into service as a guide for the posse that was pursuing the fugitives they gave vent to their feelings in choice profanity. "Now, ain't that like him? Had to... Running Elk
Up from the valley below came the throb of war drums, the faint rattle of shots, and the distant cries of painted horsemen charging. From my vantage-point on the ridge I had an unobstructed view of the encampment, a great circle of tepees and tent... Runnion Finds The Singing People
"No Creek" Lee came into the trading-post on the following morning, and found Gale attending store as if nothing unusual had occurred. "Say! What's this about you and Stark? I hear you had a horrible run-in, and that you split him up the back li... Rustlers
Swiftly the echoes of the shots died away, leaving the still serenity of the night again unruffled. For a moment or two Stratton waited expectantly; then his shoulders squared decisively. "I reckon it's up to us to find out what's going on down ... Rustlers On The Range
The affair at Cactus Springs had more effect on the life at the Bar- 20 than was realized by the foreman. News travels rapidly, and certain men, whose attributes were not of the sweetest, heard of it and swore vengeance, for Slim Travennes had ma... Sanford
Two or three others came in after a little money, but he put them off easily. "Just been cashing some paper, and took all the ready cash I can spare. Can't you wait till tomorrow? Link's gone down to St. Paul to collect on some paper. Be back on the... Sara Goes On A Journey
"Love is the speaking voice of the Great Hunger. Happy the human who has found one great love. All nature speaks in him profoundly." MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. Jim started up the road but...