The King Of The Big Horn Country
: A Story Of The Outdoor WestTwo months before this time Helen Messiter had been serenely teaching a
second grade at Kalamazoo, Michigan, notwithstanding the earnest efforts
of several youths of that city to induce her to retire to domesticity
"What's the use of being a schoolmarm?" had been the burden of their
plaint. "Any spinster can teach kids C-A-T, Cat, but only one in
several thousand can be the prettiest bride in Kalamazoo." None of them,
is probable that she would have continued to devote herself to Young
America if an uncle she had never seen had not died without a will and
left her a ranch in Wyoming yclept the Lazy D.
When her lawyer proposed to put the ranch on the market Miss Helen had a
word to say.
"I think not. I'll go out and see it first, anyhow," she said.
"But really, my dear young lady, it isn't at all necessary. Fact is,
I've already had an offer of a hundred thousand dollars for it. Now, I
should judge that a fair price."
"Very likely," his client interrupted, quietly. "But, you see, I don't
care to sell."
"Then what in the world are you going to do with it?"
"Run it."
"But, my dear Miss Messiter, it isn't an automobile or any other kind of
toy. You must remember that it takes a business head and a great deal of
experience to make such an investment pay. I really think--"
"My school ends on the fourteenth of June. I'll get a substitute for the
last two months. I shall start for Wyoming on the eighteenth of April."
The man of law gasped, explained the difficulties again carefully as to
a child, found that he was wasting his breath, and wisely gave it up.
Miss Messiter had started on the eighteenth of April, as she had
announced. When she reached Gimlet Butte, the nearest railroad point
to the Lazy D, she found a group of curious, weatherbeaten individuals
gathered round a machine foreign to their experience. It was on a flat
car, and the general opinion ran the gamut from a newfangled sewing
machine to a thresher. Into this guessing contest came its owner with
so brisk and businesslike an energy that inside of two hours she was
testing it up and down the wide street of Gimlet Butte, to the wonder
and delight of an audience to which each one of the eleven saloons of
the city had contributed its admiring quota.
Meanwhile the young woman attended strictly to business. She had
disappeared for half an hour with a suit case into the Elk House;
and when she returned in a short-skirted corduroy suit, leggings and
wide-brimmed gray Stetson hat, all Gimlet Butte took an absorbing
interest in the details of this delightful adventure that had happened
to the town. The population was out en masse to watch her slip down
the road on a trial trip.
Presently "Soapy" Sothern, drifting in on his buckskin from the Hoodoo
Peak country, where for private reasons of his own he had been for the
past month a sojourner, reported that he had seen the prettiest sight
in the State climbing under a gasoline bronc with a monkey-wrench in
her hand. Where? Right over the hill on the edge of town. The immediate
stampede for the cow ponies was averted by a warning chug-chug that
sounded down the road, followed by the appearance of a flashing whir
that made the ponies dance on their hind legs.
"The gasoline bronc lady sure makes a hit with me," announced "Texas,"
gravely. "I allow I'll rustle a job with the Lazy D outfit."
"She ce'tainly rides herd on that machine like a champeen," admitted
Soapy. "I reckon I'll drift over to the Lazy D with you to look after
yore remains, Tex, when the lightning hits you."
Miss Messiter swung the automobile round in a swift circle, came to an
abrupt halt in front of the hotel, and alighted without delay. As she
passed in through the half score of admirers she had won, her dark eyes
swept smilingly over assembled Cattleland. She had already met most of
them at the launching of the machine from the flat car, and had directed
their perspiring energies as they labored to follow her orders. Now she
nodded a recognition with a little ripple of gay laughter.
"I'm delighted to be able to contribute to the entertainment of Gimlet
Butte," she said, as she swept in. For this young woman was possessed
of Western adaptation. It gave her no conscientious qualms to exchange
conversation fraternal with these genial savages.
The Elk House did not rejoice in a private dining room, and competition
strenuous ensued as to who should have the pleasure of sitting beside
the guest of honor. To avoid ill feeling, the matter was determined by
a game of freeze-out, in which Texas and a mature gentleman named,
from his complexion, "Beet" Collins, were the lucky victors. Texas
immediately repaired to the general store, where he purchased a new
scarlet bandanna for the occasion; also a cake of soap with which to
rout the alkali dust that had filtered into every pore of his hands and
face from a long ride across the desert.
Came supper and Texas simultaneously, the cow-puncher's face scrubbed
to an apple shine. At the last moment Collins defaulted, his nerve
completely gone. Since, however, he was a thrifty soul, he sold his
place to Soapy for ten dollars, and proceeded to invest the proceeds in
an immediate drunk.
During the first ten minutes of supper Miss Messiter did not appear, and
the two guardians who flanked her chair solicitously were the object of
much badinage.
"She got one glimpse of that red haid of Tex and the pore lady's took to
the sage," explained Yorky.
"And him scrubbed so shiny fust time since Christmas before the big
blizzard," sighed Doc Rogers.
"Shucks! She ain't scared of no sawed-off, hammered-down runt like
Texas, No, siree! Miss Messiter's on the absent list 'cause she's afraid
she cayn't resist the blandishments of Soapy. Did yo' ever hear about
Soapy and that Caspar hash slinger?"
"Forget it, Slim," advised Soapy, promptly. He had been engaged in lofty
and oblivious conversation with Texas, but he did not intend to allow
reminiscences to get under way just now.
At this opportune juncture arrived the mistress of the "gasoline bronc,"
neatly clad in a simple white lawn with blue trimmings. She looked like
a gleam of sunshine in her fresh, sweet youth; and not even in her own
school room had she ever found herself the focus of a cleaner, more
unstinted admiration. For the outdoors West takes off its hat reverently
to women worthy of respect, especially when they are young and friendly.
Helen Messiter had come to Wyoming because the call of adventure, the
desire for experience outside of rutted convention, were stirring her
warm-blooded youth. She had seen enough of life lived in a parlor, and
when there came knocking at her door a chance to know the big, untamed
outdoors at first hand she had at once embraced it like a lover. She
was eager for her new life, and she set out skillfully to make these
men tell her what she wanted to know. To them, of course, it was an old
story, and whatever of romance it held was unconscious. But since she
wanted to talk of the West they were more than ready to please her.
So she listened, and drew them out with adroit questions when it was
necessary. She made them talk of life on the open range, of rustlers and
those who lived outside the law in the upper Shoshone country, of the
deadly war waging between the cattle and sheep industries.
"Are there any sheep near the Lazy D ranch?" she asked, intensely
interested in Soapy's tale of how cattle and sheep could no more be got
to mix than oil and water.
For an instant nobody answered her question; then Soapy replied, with
what seemed elaborate carelessness:
"Ned Bannister runs a bunch of about twelve thousand not more'n fifteen
or twenty miles from your place."
"And you say they are spoiling the range?"
"They're ce'tainly spoiling it for cows."
"But can't something be done? If my cows were there first I don't see
what right he has to bring his sheep there," the girl frowned.
The assembled company attended strictly to supper. The girl, surprised
at the stillness, looked round. "Well?"
"Now you're shouting, ma'am! That's what we say," enthused Texas,
spurring to the rescue.
"It doesn't much matter what you say. What do you do?" asked Helen,
impatiently. "Do you lie down and let Mr. Bannister and his kind drive
their sheep over you?"
"Do we, Soapy?" grinned Texas. Yet it seemed to her his smile was not
quite carefree.
"I'm not a cowman myself," explained Soapy to the girl. "Nor do I run
sheep. I--"
"Tell Miss Messiter what yore business is, Soapy," advised Yorky from
the end of the table, with a mouthful of biscuit swelling his cheeks.
Soapy crushed the irrepressible Yorky with a look, but that young man
hit back smilingly.
"Soapy, he sells soap, ma'am. He's a sorter city salesman, I reckon."
"I should never have guessed it. Mr. Sothern does not LOOK like
a salesman," said the girl, with a glance at his shrewd, hard,
expressionless face.
"Yes, ma'am, he's a first-class seller of soap, is Mr. Sothern,"
chuckled the cow-puncher, kicking his friends gayly under the table.
"You can see I never sold HIM any, Miss Messiter," came back Soapy,
sorrowfully.
All this was Greek to the young lady from Kalamazoo. How was she to know
that Mr. Sothern had vended his soap in small cubes on street corners,
and that he wrapped bank notes of various denominations in the bars,
which same were retailed to eager customers for the small sum of fifty
cents, after a guarantee that the soap was good? His customers rarely
patronized him twice; and frequently they used bad language because
the soap wrapping was not as valuable as they had expected. This was
manifestly unfair, for Mr. Sothern, who made no claims to philanthropy,
often warned them that the soap should be bought on its merits, and not
with an eye single to the premium that might or might not accompany the
package.
"I started to tell you, ma'am, when that infant interrupted, that
the cowmen don't aim to quit business yet a while. They've drawn a
dead-line, Miss Messiter."
"A dead-line?"
"Yes, ma'am, beyond which no sheep herder is to run his bunch."
"And if he does?" the girl asked, open eyed.
"He don't do it twict, ma'am. Why don't you pass the fritters to Miss
Messiter, Slim?"
"And about this Bannister Who is he?"
Her innocent question seemed to ring a bell for silence; seemed to carry
with it some hidden portent that stopped idle conversation as a striking
clock that marks the hour of an execution.
The smile that had been gay grew grim, and men forgot the subject of
their light, casual talk. It was Sothern that answered her, and
she observed that his voice was grave, his face studiously without
expression.
"Mr. Bannister, ma'am, is a sheepman."
"So I understood, but--" Her eyes traveled swiftly round the table, and
appraised the sudden sense of responsibility that had fallen on these
reckless, careless frontiersmen. "I am wondering what else he is.
Really, he seems to be the bogey man of Gimlet Butte."
There was another instant silence, and again it was Soapy that lifted
it. "I expaict you'll like Wyoming, Miss Messiter; leastways I hope you
will. There's a right smart of country here." His gaze went out of the
open door to the vast sea of space that swam in the fine sunset light.
"Yes, most folks that ain't plumb spoilt with city ways likes it."
"Sure she'll like it. Y'u want to get a good, easy-riding hawss, Miss
Messiter," advised Slim.
"And a rifle," added Texas, promptly.
It occurred to her that they were all working together to drift the
conversation back to a safe topic. She followed the lead given her,
but she made up her mind to know what it was about her neighbor,
Mr. Bannister, the sheep herder, that needed to be handled with such
wariness and circumspection of speech.
Her chance came half an hour later, when she stood talking to the
landlady on the hotel porch in the mellow twilight that seemed to rest
on the land like a moonlit aura. For the moment they were alone.
"What is it about this man Bannister that makes men afraid to speak of
him?" she demanded, with swift impulse.
Her landlady's startled eyes went alertly round to see that they were
alone. "Hush, child! You mustn't speak of him like that," warned the
older woman.
"Why mustn't I? That's what I want to know."
"Is isn't healthy."
"What do you mean?"
Again that anxious look flashed round in the dusk. "The Bannister outfit
is the worst in the land. Ned Bannister is king of the whole Big Horn
country and beyond that to the Tetons."
"And you mean to tell me that everybody is afraid of him--that men like
Mr. Sothern dare not say their soul is their own?" the newcomer asked,
contemptuously.
"Not so loud, child. He has spies everywhere That's the trouble. You
don't know who is in with him. He's got the whole region terrified."
"Is he so bad?"
"He is a devil. Last year he and his hell riders swept down on Topaz and
killed two bartenders just to see them kick, Ned Bannister said. Folks
allow they knew too much."
"But the law--the Government? Haven't you a sheriff and officers?"
"Bannister has. He elects the sheriff in this county."
"Aren't there more honest people here than villains?"
"Ten times as many, but the trouble is that the honest folks can't trust
each other. You see, if one of them made a mistake and confided in the
wrong man--well, some fine day he would go riding herd and would not
turn up at night. Next week, or next month, maybe, one of his partners
might find a pile of bones in an arroyo.
"Have you ever seen this Bannister?"
"You MUST speak lower when you talk of him, Miss Messiter," the woman
insisted. "Yes, I saw him once; at least I think I did. Mighty few folks
know for sure that they have seen him. He is a mystery, and he travels
under many names and disguises."
"When was it you think you saw him?"
"Two years ago at Ayr. The bank was looted that night and robbed of
thirty thousand dollars. They roused the cashier from his bed and made
him give the combination. He didn't want to, and Ned Bannister"--her
voice sank to a tremulous whisper--"put red-hot running-irons between
his fingers till he weakened. It was a moonlight night--much such a
night as this--and after it was done I peeped through the blind of my
room and saw them ride away. He rode in front of them and sang like an
angel--did it out of daredeviltry to mock the people of the town that
hadn't nerve enough to shoot him. You see, he knew that nobody would
dare hurt him 'count of the revenge of his men."
"What was he like?" the mistress of the Lazy D asked, strangely awed at
this recital of transcendent villainy.
"'Course he was masked, and I didn't see his face. But I'd know him
anywhere. He's a long, slim fellow, built like a mountain lion. You
couldn't look at him and ever forget him. He's one of these graceful,
easy men that go so fur with fool women; one of the kind that half shuts
his dark, devil eyes and masters them without seeming to try."
"So he's a woman killer, too, is he? Any more outstanding
inconsistencies in this versatile Jesse James?"
"He's plumb crazy about music, they say. Has a piano and plays Grigg and
Chopping, and all that classical kind of music. He went clear down to
Denver last year to hear Mrs. Shoeman sing."
Helen smiled, guessing at Schumann-Heink as the singer in question, and
Grieg and Chopin as the composers named. Her interest was incredibly
aroused. She had expected the West and its products to exhilarate her,
but she had not looked to find so finished a Mephisto among its vaunted
"bad men." He was probably overrated; considered a wonder because his
accomplishments outstepped those of the range. But Helen Messiter had
quite determined on one thing. She was going to meet this redoubtable
villain and make up her mind for herself. Already, before she had been
in Wyoming six hours, this emancipated young woman had decided on that.
More
-
The Ghost At The Banquet
T. Victor Sprudell's dinner guests were soon to arrive, and Mr. Sprudell's pearl gray spats were twinkling up and down the corridor of Bartlesville's best hotel, and back and forth between the private dining-room and the Room of Mystery adjoining,... The Ghost In The Crosstrees
I Cyrus Ryder, the President of the South Pacific Exploitation Company, had at last got hold of a "proposition"--all Ryder's schemes were, in his vernacular, "propositions"--that was not only profitable beyond precedent or belief, but that also... The Ghost Of The San Miguel
Juan Alvarez had not been in San Felippe since Dick Martin left, which meant for over a month. Martin was down the river looking for a man who did not wish to be found; and some said that Martin cared nothing about international boundaries when he w... The Ghosts Of Stukeley Castle
There should have been snow on the ground to make the picture seasonable and complete, but the Western Barbarian had lived long enough in England to know that, except in the pages of a holiday supplement, this was rarely the accompaniment of a Chr... The Golden Pathway
Young Norcross soon became vitally engaged with the problems which confronted McFarlane, and his possible enrolment as a guard filled him with a sense of proprietorship in the forest, which made him quite content with Bear Tooth. He set to work at... The Gossips Awake
It was dark when they reached the village, but Wayland declared his ability to go on, although his wounded head was throbbing with fever and he was clinging to the pommel of his saddle; so Berrie rode on. Mrs. McFarlane, hearing the horses on th... The Governor's Answer
Judging that it was almost time for his interview with the governor, Kid Wolf saddled Blizzard in the public establo, or stable, and rode at once to the governor's palace. Although it did not occur to him that Quiroz would reject his plea for aid... The Grizzly And The Indians
For a moment Dorothy sat still in bed, afraid to move or cry out while the great animal at the window remained equally motionless. Then she was able to shriek: "Alf! Helena! Somebody--help--help! HELP!" Alfy leapt from her little bed with an ... The Guzman Incident
Ricardo Guzman did not return from Romero. When two days had passed with no word from him, his sons became alarmed and started an investigation, but without the slightest result. Even Colonel Blanco himself could not hazard a guess as to Guzman's ... The Happy Family Buys A Bunch Of Cattle
With the Kid riding gleefully upon Weary's shoulder they trooped up the path their own feet had helped wear deep to the bunk-house. They looked in at the open door and snorted at the cheerlessness of the place. "Why don't you come back here and st... The Happy Family Herd Sheep
The boys of the Flying U had many faults in common, aside from certain individual frailties; one of their chief weaknesses was over-confidence in their own ability to cope with any situation which might arise, unexpectedly or otherwise, and a belief... The Happy Family Learn Something
"Well, I hope this farce is about over," Dunk sneered, with as near an approach to his old, supercilious manner as he could command, when the three who had ridden apart returned presently. "Perhaps, Weary, you'll be good enough to have this fellow p... The Happy Family Turn Nesters
"Say, Andy, where's them dry-farmers?" Big Medicine inquired at the top of his voice when the Happy Family had reached the biscuit-and-syrup stage of supper that evening. "Oh, they're trying to make up their minds whether to bring the old fannin'... The Happy Girl
The stage line which ran from Williams to Bear Tooth (one of the most authentic then to be found in all the West) possessed at least one genuine Concord coach, so faded, so saddened, so cracked, and so splintered that its passengers entered it und... The Hatred Of Big Buffalo
The last of the sap had been reduced to sugar and made into a fine solid cake weighing nearly two pounds, the night that the foregoing conversation took place. With this as a present to the chief of the Delawares, Ree and John set out early the fo... The Heart Of A Desert Wife
"The squaws who come at times to crouch upon my back have the slow listening patience of the rabbits." MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. Pen paused, eyes angry, mouth disgusted: "You are the last pers... The Hen Of Wun Sing
But whatever wild schemes were hatching in the heads of the three lads nothing seemed to come of them. Days followed one another in such peaceful routine that Dorothy felt ashamed of her fears, as well as ashamed of her composure regarding Jim ... The Heritage Of The Desert
"MESCAL'S far out in front by this time. Depend on it, Hare," went on Naab. "That trick was the cunning Indian of her. She'll ride Silvermane into White Sage to-morrow night. Then she'll hide from Snap. The Bishop will take care of her. She'll be ... The Hermit's Warning
As it was now after midday, we concluded to eat our lunch before going any further, so, sitting down on the rocks, we produced the bread and cold bacon we had brought with us and prepared to refresh ourselves. Observing this, Socrates, who had flo... The Honk-honk Breed
It was Sunday at the ranch. For a wonder the weather had been favourable; the windmills were all working, the bogs had dried up, the beef had lasted over, the remuda had not strayed--in short, there was nothing to do. Sang had given us a baked bre... The Honorable Thomas B Pelton
It was next morning that Steve came into Ridgway's offices with a copy of the Rocky Mountain Herald in his hands. As soon as the president of the Mesa Ore-producing Company was through talking with Dalton, the superintendent of the Taurus, about the... The Hoodoo Outfit
Pop Daggett hesitated and glanced uneasily toward the door. "I warned yuh, didn't I, the Shoe-Bar was a hoodoo outfit?" he evaded. Stratton shook some tobacco into a cigarette-paper and jerked the draw-string with his teeth. "Sure you did, ... The Hospitality Of Travennes
Mr. Buck Peters rode into Alkaline one bright September morning and sought refreshment at the Emporium. Mr. Peters had just finished some business for his employer and felt the satisfaction that comes with the knowledge of work well done. He exp... The Idyl Of Red Gulch
Sandy was very drunk. He was lying under an azalea bush, in pretty much the same attitude in which he had fallen some hours before. How long he had been lying there he could not tell, and didn't care; how long he should lie there was a matter equa... The Indiscretion Of Elsbeth
The American paused. He had evidently lost his way. For the last half hour he had been wandering in a medieval town, in a profound medieval dream. Only a few days had elapsed since he had left the steamship that carried him hither; and the accents... The Intruder
After closing the door through which she had entered, Barbara Morgan slipped the fastenings into place and stood, an ear pressed against the door, listening for sounds that would tell her Harlan had followed her. But beyond the door all was silenc... The Invisible Hand
Jane received a letter from Bishop Dyer, not in his own handwriting, which stated that the abrupt termination of their interview had left him in some doubt as to her future conduct. A slight injury had incapacitated him from seeking anothe... The Jack-pot
As Uncle Bill Griswold came breathless from the raging whiteness outside with an armful of bark and wood, the two long icicles hanging from the ends of his mustache made him look like an industrious walrus. He drew the fuel beside the tiny, sheet-... The Jimmyjohn Boss
I One day at Nampa, which is in Idaho, a ruddy old massive jovial man stood by the Silver City stage, patting his beard with his left hand, and with his right the shoulder of a boy who stood beside him. He had come with the boy on the branch tr... The Judge Ignores Particulars
"Do you often have these visitations?" Ogden inquired of Judge Henry. Our host was giving us whiskey in his office, and Dr. MacBride, while we smoked apart from the ladies, had repaired to his quarters in the foreman's house previous to the servic... The Judgment Of God
The man who had entered with such violence upon so violent a scene, stood waiting till the smoke of Pierre's discharge had cleared away, then, still holding his gun in readiness, he stepped across the room and bent over the fallen man. "I've ki... The Jump
He brought Satan back to a hand canter, and so he pulled around the next curve of the gulch and saw the trap squarely in front. He came to a full halt. For he saw a tall, strong barbed-wire fence stretching across the stream-bed, and beyond the fenc... The Kid Has Ideas Of His Own
The Old Man sat out in his big chair on the porch, smoking and staring dully at the trail which led up the bluff by way of the Hog's Back to the benchland beyond. Facing him in an old, cane rocking chair, the Honorable Blake smoked with that air of ... The Kid Is Used For A Pawn In The Game
Did you ever stop to think of the tremendous moral lesson in the Bible tale of David and Goliath? And how great, human issues are often decided one way or the other by little things? Not all crises are passed in the clashing of swords and the boom o... The Kid Learns Some Things About Horses
The Kid--Chip's Kid and the Little Doctor's--was six years old and big for his age. Also he was a member in good standing of the Happy Family and he insisted upon being called Buck outside the house; within it the Little Doctor insisted even more st... The Killer
Lidgerwood had found little difficulty in getting on the companionable side of Dawson, so far as the heavy-muscled, silent young draftsman had a companionable side; and an invitation to the family dinner-table at the Dawson cottage on the low mesa... The King Of The Big Horn Country
Two months before this time Helen Messiter had been serenely teaching a second grade at Kalamazoo, Michigan, notwithstanding the earnest efforts of several youths of that city to induce her to retire to domesticity "What's the use of being a schoolm... The Kingdom Of Joy
A prince of the Kingdom of Joy rode the Piceance trail on a morning glad with the song of birds and the rippling of brooks. Knee to knee with him rode his princess, slim and straight, the pink in her soft smooth cheeks, a shy and eager light in th... The Knife
In every community, be it never so small, there are undesirable citizens; and, while the little party was still at breakfast on the following morning, three such members of society came around the cabin and let fall their packs, greeting the occup... The Lady From The Past
Stratton's first feeling was that the girl must have made a mistake. In a dazed fashion he stepped forward and helped her out of the buckboard, but this was a more or less mechanical action and because she so evidently expected it. As he took her ... The Land Of The Musk-ox
A far cry it was from bright June at Port Chippewayan to dim October on Great Slave Lake. Two long, laborious months Rea and Jones threaded the crooked shores of the great inland sea, to halt at the extreme northern end, where a plunging rivulet ... The Last Frontier
Many men were in debt to the trader at Flambeau, and many counted him as a friend. The latter never reasoned why, except that he had done them favors, and in the North that counts for much. Perhaps they built likewise upon the fact that he was eve... The Last Herd
Over gray No-Man's-Land stole down the shadows of night. The undulating prairie shaded dark to the western horizon, rimmed with a fading streak of light. Tall figures, silhouetted sharply against the last golden glow of sunset, marked the rounded cr... The Leopardess
Pierre stood before the cheap bureau of his ugly hotel bedroom turning a red slip of cardboard about in his fingers. The gas-jet sputtering above his head threw heavy shadows down on his face. It was the face of hopeless, heartsick youth, the musc... The Letter In The Chaps
Though hours may drag themselves into the past so sluggishly that one is fairly maddened by the snail's pace of them, into the past they must go eventually. Jean had sat and listened to the wheels of the Golden State Limited clank over the cryptic ... The Light Of Western Stars
Blinded, like a wild creature, Madeline Hammond ran to her room. She felt as if a stroke of lightning had shattered the shadowy substance of the dream she had made of real life. The wonder of Danny Mains's story, the strange regret with which she ha... The Little Missouri
A week later we crossed the Belle Fourche, sometimes called the North Fork of the Big Cheyenne. Like its twin sister on the south, it was a mountain river, having numerous affluents putting in from the Black Hills, which it encircled on the north an... The Living Dead
"Oh, I want to go back to the Rio Grande! The Rio! That's where I long to be!" The words, sung in a soft and musical tenor, died away and changed to a plaintive whistle, leaving the scene more lonely than ever. For a few moments n... The Long Arm Of Power
Presently Corrigan lit a cigar, biting the end off carefully, to keep it from coming in contact with his bruised lips. When the cigar was going well, he looked at Braman. "What is Trevison?" Pale, still dizzy from the effects of the blow on t... The Long Arm Of The Law
From the first the wound healed rapidly, for Vic's blood was perfectly pure, the mountain air a tonic which strengthened him, and his food and care of the best. The high-powered rifle bullet whipped cleanly through his shoulder, breaking no bone and... The Long Trail
The round-up crew started early the next morning, just about sun-up. Senor Johnson rode first, merely to keep out of the dust. Then followed Torn Rich, jogging along easily in the cow-puncher's "Spanish trot" whistling soothingly to quiet the horse... The Long Way Round
Miss Allen turned to yell encouragingly to the Kid, and she saw that he was going on slowly, his head turned to watch her. She told him to wait where he was, and she would come around the mountain and get him and take him home. "Do you hear me, baby... The Lost Landslide Mine
"They cut the ropes! See, here is where it was done, on this jagged rock!" As Dave spoke he pointed to a sharp edge of stone. Beneath it were bits of rope, showing how the fetters had been sawed in twain. "One of 'em must have got loose and t... The Lost Mine Of The Padres
In the cool, starry evenings the campers sat around a blazing fire and told and listened to stories thrillingly fitted to the dark crags and the wild solitude. Monty Price had come to shine brilliantly as a storyteller. He was an atrocious liar, ... The Love Of Poleon Doret
To the girl crouching at the stern of Runnion's boat it seemed as if this day and night would never end. It seemed as if the procession of natural events must have ceased, that there was no longer any time, for she had been suffering steadily for ... The Luck Of Roaring Camp
There was commotion in Roaring Camp. It could not have been a fight, for in 1850 that was not novel enough to have called together the entire settlement. The ditches and claims were not only deserted, but "Tuttle's grocery" had contributed its gam... The Lumbermen
For a full moment I just lay still, hugging the ground, and I did not seem to think at all. Voices loud in anger roused me. Raising myself, I guardedly looked from behind the tree. One of the lumbermen threw brush on the fire, making it blaze brig... The Magic Of Ben Stark
Before the party came in sight, the sound of their voices reached the cabin, and Burrell rose nervously and sauntered to the door. Uncertain how this affair might terminate, he chose to get first look at his enemies, if they should prove to be suc... The Makon Road
"Always the strongest coyote makes the new trail. The pack is content to continue in the old." MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. The building of the road from the valley to the crevice edge was not a ... The Malice Of A Squaw
Good Indian looked in the hammock, but Evadna was not there. He went to the little stone bench at the head of the pond, and when he still did not see her he followed the bank around to the milk-house, where was a mumble of voices. And, standing in t... The Man From The Shoshone Fastnesses
Though the sharpshooter's rifle cracked twice during his run for the cottonwood, the sheepman reached the tree in safety. He could dodge through the brush as elusively as any man in Wyoming. It was a trick he had learned on the whitewashed football ... The Man Of Destiny
"Now, then, I'll explain," said Alaire, turning to the men. "Longorio declares he won't have me except as his wife, and I think he means it. He is amazingly egotistical. He has tremendous ambitions. He thinks this war is his great opportunity, and... The Man Of No Account
His name was Fagg--David Fagg. He came to California in '52 with us, in the SKYSCRAPER. I don't think he did it in an adventurous way. He probably had no other place to go to. When a knot of us young fellows would recite what splendid opportunitie... The Man On The Other Bank
I. It was before Smoke Bellew staked the farcical town-site of Tra-Lee, made the historic corner of eggs that nearly broke Swiftwater Bill's bank account, or won the dog-team race down the Yukon for an even million dollars, that he and Shor... The Man On The Train
Travelling was a new experience to me, and on the first night after I left home I lay awake until we reached Altoona. We rolled out of smoky Pittsburg at dawn, and from then on the only bitter drop in my cup of bliss was that the train went so fast ... The Man Under The Bed
The Eagle tavern was a long, low structure and stood close beside the highway, on the opposite side of which was the weather-beaten log and frame barn to which John had referred. Near the tavern was a well and an old-fashioned sweep towering above... The Man With Nerve
At about ten o'clock of the Fourth of July a rider topped the summit of the last swell of land, and loped his animal down into the single street of Pereza. The buildings on either side were flat-roofed and coated with plaster. Over the sidewalks e... The Man With The Chihuahua Hat
A little dust cloud was traveling up the trail toward the Bar Double G, the center of which presently defined itself as a rider moving at a road gait. He wore a Chihuahua hat and with it the picturesque trappings the Southwest borrows on occasion ... The Marathon
"I have seen a thing that humans call friendship. It is clearer, higher, less frequent than the thing they call love." MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. At 66th street, Jim had passed the Califo... The Mask Ball
"I have seen in the coyote pack that coyotes who will not hunt and fight for the pack must starve and die." MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. "You are not!" returned Pen flatly. "You don't see the hum... The Masked Rider
Venters looked quickly from the fallen rustlers to the canyon where the others had disappeared. He calculated on the time needed for running horses to return to the open, if their riders heard shots. He waited breathlessly. But the estimat... The Master
It was noon by the sun when Hopalong and Red shook hands south of the old ford and the former turned to enter the brush. Hopalong was cool and ominously calm while his companion was the opposite. Red was frankly suspicious of the whole affair and nu...