CHAPTER XXV
A MAN IS BORN AGAIN
The meeting between Catherson and Randerson had taken the edge offCatherson's frenzy, but it had not shaken his determination. He had beenin the grip of an insane wrath when he had gone to see the Flying W rangeboss. His passions had ruled him, momentarily. He had subdued them,checked them; they were held in the clutch of his will as he rode theLazette trail. He did not travel fast, but carefully. There was somethingin the pony's gait that suggested the mood of his rider--a certaindoggedness of movement and demeanor which might have meant that theanimal knew his rider's thoughts and was in sympathy with them. Theytraveled the trail that Randerson had taken on the night he had foundRuth on the rock; they negotiated the plain that spread between theranchhouse and the ford where Randerson had just missed meeting Ruth thatday; they went steadily over the hilly country and passed through thesection of broken land where Ruth's pony had thrown her. Reaching thehills and ridges beyond, Catherson halted and scrutinized the countryaround him. When he observed that there was no sign of life within rangeof his vision, he spoke to the pony and they went forward.
Catherson's lips were set in a heavy, ugly pout. His shaggy brows werecontracted; somber, baleful flashes, that betrayed something of thosepassions that he was subduing, showed in his eyes as the pony skirted thetimber where Randerson had tied Ruth's horse. When he reached thedeclivity where Ruth had overheard Chavis and Kester, he dismounted andled his pony down it, using the utmost care. He was conserving the pony'sstrength. For he knew nothing of what might be required of the animal,and this thing which he had determined to do must not be bungled.
He was still in no hurry, but he grew cautious now, and secretive. Hemade a wide circuit of the basin, keeping out of sight as much aspossible, behind some nondescript brush, riding in depressions; going amile out of his way to follow the sandy bed of a washout. His objectivewas Chavis' shack, and he wanted to come upon it unnoticed. Or, if thatfailed, he desired to make his visit appear casual.
* * * * *
But in Chavis' shack was a man who of late had formed the habit offurtive watchfulness. He wore a heavy six-shooter at his waist, but heknew better than to try to place any dependence upon his ability as amarksman. A certain meeting with a grim-faced man on the Lazette trailthe night before, a vivid recollection of the grim-faced man's uncannycleverness with a weapon, demonstrated upon two occasions, worried him,as did also some words that kept running through his mind, asleep orawake, and would not be banished. He could even hear the intonations ofthe voice that had uttered them: "This country is too crowded for both ofus."
Masten was beginning to believe that. He had thought that very morning,of leaving, of escaping, rather. But Chavis had reassured him, hadridiculed him, in fact.
"Randerson's four-flushin'," Chavis had laughed. "He's took a shine toRuth, an' he's aimin' to scare you out. He'd sooner shoot a foot off thanbore you. 'Cause why? 'Cause if he bored you he'd never have no chance toget next to Ruth. She's some opposed to him killin' folks promiscuous.You lay low, that's all. An' I'll rustle up a guy one of these days whichwill put a crimp in Randerson. If he comes snoopin' around here, why,there's a rifle handy. Let him have it, sudden--before he can git set!"
Since he had sent Chavis with the note to Hagar, Masten had been uneasy.He had not stayed inside the shack for more than a minute or two at atime, standing much in the doorway, scanning the basin and the declivitycarefully and fearfully. And he had seen Catherson lead his pony down. Hewent in and took the rifle from its pegs.
He had had a hope, at first, that it might be Kester or Linton. But whenhe saw that the rider did not come directly toward the shack a cold sweatbroke out on his forehead and he fingered the rifle nervously. When hesaw the rider disappear in the washout, he got a chair from inside and,standing on it, concentrated his gaze at the point where the rider mustemerge. And when, a little later, he caught a glimpse of the rider'shead, appearing for just an instant above the crest of a sand ridge,noting the beard and the shaggy hair, his face turned ashen and the chairrocked under him. For he knew but one man in this country who looked likethat.
He got down from the chair and glared around, his eyes dilated.Catherson's actions seemed innocent enough. But what could he be doing inthe basin? And, once here, what could he mean by prowling like that,instead of coming directly to the cabin? What could he be looking for?Why did he not show himself?
Masten slipped outside and crept along the wall of the shack to a corner,from which, screened by some alder, he watched breathlessly, a namelessdisquiet oppressing him. Did Catherson know anything?
That question his conscience dinned in his ears. It was answered manytimes, as he stood there--an insistent affirmative, suggested, proven byCatherson's actions, supported by the fact that he had never seenCatherson in the basin before.
As he watched, he saw Catherson again. He was closer, riding behind athicket of gnarled brush, which was not high enough entirely to concealhim, and he was bending far over in the saddle as though he did not wantto be seen. But Masten could see him, and this last evidence of the man'scaution convinced Masten. Obeying a sudden impulse, he threw the rifle tohis shoulder. The muzzle wavered, describing wide circles, and before hecould steady it enough to be reasonably certain of hitting the target,Catherson had vanished behind a low hill.
Masten wiped the cold moisture from his forehead. For an instant he stoodirresolute, trembling. And then, panic-stricken over a picture that hisimagination drew for him, he dropped the rifle and ran, crouching, to thecorral. With frenzied haste, urged by the horrible conviction that hadseized him, he threw saddle and bridle on his pony, and clambered,mumbling incoherently, into the saddle. Twice the reins escaped his wildclutches, but finally he caught them and sat erect looking fearfully forCatherson.
The nester was not visible to him. Gulping hard, Masten sent the ponycautiously forward. He skirted the corral fence, keeping the shackbetween him and the point at which he divined Catherson was then riding,and loped the pony into some sparse timber near the river.
His panic had grown. He had yielded to it, and it had mastered him. Hislips were twitching; he cringed and shivered as, getting deeper into thetimber, he drove the spurs into the pony's flanks and raced it away fromthe shack.
He rode for perhaps a mile at break-neck speed. And then, unable to fightoff the fascination that gripped him, doubting, almost ridiculing himselffor yielding to the wild impulse to get away from Catherson, for now thathe was away his action seemed senseless, he halted the pony and turned inthe saddle, peering back through the trees. He had followed a narrowtrail, and its arching green stretched behind him, peaceful, inviting,silent. So calm did it all seem to him now, so distant from that dreaddanger he had anticipated, that he smiled and sat debating an impulse toreturn and face Catherson. The man's intentions could not be what he hadsuspected them to be; clearly, his conscience had played him a trick.
But he did not wheel his pony. For as he sat there in the silence heheard the rapid drumming of hoofs on the path. Distant they were, butunmistakable. For a moment Masten listened to them, the cold dampbreaking out on his forehead again. Then he cursed, drove the spurs deepinto the pony and leaning forward, rode frantically away.
Coming out of the timber to a sand plain that stretched in seemingendlessness toward a horizon that was dimming in the growing twilight,Masten halted the pony again, but only for an instant. In the next he wasurging it on furiously. For looking back fearfully, he saw Cathersonbestriding his pony, a dread apparition, big, rigid, grim, just breakingthrough the timber edge, not more than two or three hundred feet distant.Masten had hoped he had distanced his pursuer, for he had ridden at leastfive miles at a pace that he had never before attempted. There had beenno way for him to judge the pony's speed, of course, but when he hadhalted momentarily he had noted that the animal was quivering all over,that it caught its breath shrilly
in the brief interval of rest, and nowas he rode, bending far over its mane, he saw that the billowing foam onits muzzle was flecked with blood. The animal was not equal to thedemands he had made upon it.
But he forced it on, with spur and voice and hand, muttering, pleadingwith it incoherently, his own breath coughing in his throat, the musclesof his back cringing and rippling in momentary expectation of a flyingmissile that would burn and tear its way through them. But no bulletcame. There was no sound behind him except, occasionally, the ring ofhoofs. At other times silence engulfed him. For in the deep sand of thelevel the laboring ponies of pursued and pursuer made no noise. Mastencould hear a sodden squish at times, as his own animal whipped its hoofsout of a miniature sand hill.
The grim, relentless figure behind him grewgrotesque and gigantic in his thoughts]
He did not look around again for a long time. Long ago had he lost allsense of direction, for twilight had come and gone, and blank darkness,except for the stars, stretched on all sides. He had never seen this sandlevel; he knew it must be far off the Lazette trail. And he knew, too,before he had ridden far into it, that it was a desert. For as twilighthad come on he had scrutinized it hopefully in search of timber, bushes,a gorge, a gully--anything that might afford him an opportunity forconcealment, for escape from the big, grim pursuer. He had seen nothingof that character. Barren, level, vast, this waste of world stretchedbefore him, with no verdure save the repulsive cactus, the scraggy yucca,the grease-wood, and occasional splotches of mesquite.
They raced on, the distance between them lessening gradually. Mastencould feel his pony failing. It tried bravely, but the times when itspurted grew less frequent; it made increasingly harder work of pullingits hoofs out of the deep sand; it staggered and lurched on the hardstretches.
Masten looked back frequently now. The grim, relentless figure behind himgrew grotesque and gigantic in his thoughts, and once, when he felt thepony beneath him go to its knees, he screamed hysterically. But the ponyclambered to its feet again and staggered on, to fall again a minutelater. Catherson's pony, its strength conserved for this ordeal, came onsteadily, its rider carefully avoiding the soft sand, profiting byMasten's experiences with it. It was not until he saw Catherson withinfifty feet of him that Masten divined that he was not to be shot. For atthat distance he made a fair target, and Catherson made no movementtoward his gun. The nester was still silent; he had spoken no word. Hespoke none now, as he hung relentlessly to his prey, seeming, to Masten'sdistorted mind and vision, a hideous, unnatural and ghastly figure ofdeath.
Catherson had drawn nearer. He was not more than thirty feet away whenMasten's pony went down again. It fell with a looseness and finality thattold Masten of the end. And Masten slipped his feet out of the stirrups,throwing himself free and alighting on his hands and knees in front ofthe exhausted animal. He got up, and started to run, desperately,sobbing, his lips slavering from terror. But he turned, after running afew feet, to see Catherson coming after him. The nester was uncoiling arope from his saddle horn, and at this sight Masten shrieked and went tohis knees. He heard an answering laugh from Catherson, short, malevolent.And then the rope swished out, its loop widening and writhing. Mastenshrieked again, and threw up his hands impotently.
* * * * *
Later, Catherson brought his pony to a halt, far from where the rope hadbeen cast, and looked grimly down at his fellow being, prone andmotionless in the deep sand at his feet.
Unmoved, remorseless, Catherson had cut short the pleadings, thescreaming, the promises. He had not bungled his work, and it had beendone. But as he looked down now, the muscles of his face quivered. Andnow he spoke the first word that had passed his lips since he had leftthe Flying W ranchhouse:
"I reckon you've got what's been comin' to you!"
He got down, unfastened the rope, deliberately re-coiled it and looped itaround the saddle horn. Then he mounted and rode away. Grim, indistinct,fading into the blackness of the desert night, he went, half a mile,perhaps. And then, halting the pony, he turned in the saddle and lookedback, his head bent in a listening attitude. To his ears came the sharpbark of a coyote, very near. It was answered, faintly, from the vast,yawning distance, by another. Catherson stiffened, and lines of remorsecame into his face.
"Hell!" he exclaimed gruffly.
He wheeled the pony and sent it scampering back. A little later he waskneeling at Masten's side, and still later he helped Masten to the saddlein front of him and set out again into the desert blackness toward thetimber from which they both had burst some time before.
Many hours afterward they came to the river, at the point where theLazette trail intersected. There, in the shallow water of the ford,Masten washed from his body the signs of his experience, Cathersonhelping him. Outwardly, when they had finished, there were few marks onMasten. But inwardly his experience had left an ineffaceable impression.
After washing, he staggered to a rock and sat on it, his head in hishands, shivers running over him. For a time Catherson paid no attentionto him, busying himself with his pony, jaded from the night's work. Butafter half an hour, just as the first faint shafts of dawn began to stealup over the horizon, Catherson walked close, and stood looking down athis victim.
"Well," he said, slowly and passionlessly, "I've got you this far. I'mquittin' you. I reckon I've deviled you enough. I was goin' to kill you.But killin' you wouldn't have made things right. I expect you've learnedsomethin', anyway. You'll know enough to play square, after this. An'wherever you go--"
Masten looked up at him, his face haggard, his eyes brimming, butflashing earnestly.
"I'm going back to Hagar," he said. He shivered again. "You're right,Catherson," he added, his voice quavering; "I learned a lot tonight. I'velearned--" His voice broke, and he sat there grim and white, shudderingas a child shudders when awakened from a nightmare. He almost collapsedwhen Catherson's huge hands fell to his shoulders, but the hands heldhim, the fingers gripping deeply into the flesh. There was a leap inCatherson's voice:
"You're almost a man, after all!" he said.
They got on the pony after a while, riding as before, Masten in front,Catherson behind him, steadying him. And in this manner they rode ontoward Catherson's shack, miles down the river.
It was late in the morning when they came in sight of the shack, andseeing them from afar Hagar ran to them. She stopped when she saw Masten,her eyes wide with wonder and astonishment that changed quickly to joy asshe saw a smile gathering on Catherson's face.
"I've brought you your husband, Hagar," he told her.
Hagar did not move. Her hands were pressing her breast; her eyes wereeloquent with doubt and hope. They sought Masten's, searchingly,defiantly. And she spoke directly to him, proudly, her head erect:
"If you've come ag'in your will--If dad had to bring you--" She paused,her lips trembling.
"Shucks," said Catherson gently; "he's come on his own hook, Hagar. Why,he asked me to bring him--didn't you, Masten?"
And then he dismounted and helped Masten down, leading his pony forwardtoward the shack, but turning when he reached the porch, to look back atMasten and Hagar, standing together in the shade of the trees, the girl'shead resting on the man's shoulder.
Catherson pulled the saddle and bridle from the pony, turned him into thecorral, and then went into the house. A little later he came out again,smoking a pipe. Masten and Hagar were sitting close together on a fallentree near where he had left them. Catherson smiled mildly at them andpeacefully pulled at his pipe.
CHAPTER XXVI
A DREAM COMES TRUE
On the edge of the mesa, from which, on the day of her adventure with theinjured ankle, Ruth had viewed the beautiful virgin wilderness thatstretched far on the opposite side of the river, she was riding, theafternoon of a day a week later, with Randerson. She had expressed a wishto come here, and Randerson had agreed joyfully.
Seated
on a rock in the shade of some trees that formed the edge of thattimber grove in which he had tied Ruth's pony on a night that held manymemories for both, they had watched, for a long time, in silence, thevast country before them. Something of the solemn calmness of the scenewas reflected in Ruth's eyes. But there was a different expression inRanderson's eyes. It was as though he possessed a secret which, he felt,she ought to know, but was deliberately delaying the telling of it. Butat last he decided, though he began obliquely:
"I reckon there's a set plan for the way things turn out--for folks," hesaid, gravely. "Things turn out to show it. Everything is fixed." Hesmiled as she looked at him. "Take me," he went on. "I saw your picture.If I'd only seen it once, mebbe I wouldn't have fell in love with it.But--"
"Why, Rex!" she reproved with an injured air, "how can you say that? Why,I believe I loved you from the minute I saw you!"
"You didn't have anything on me there!" he told her. "For I was a gonecoon the first time I set eyes on _you!_ But is it the same withpictures? A picture, now, has to be studied; it ain't like the realarticle," he apologized. "Anyway, if I hadn't kept lookin' at yourpicture, mebbe things would have been different. But I got it, an' Ilooked at it a lot. That shows that it was all fixed for you an' me."
She looked mirthfully at him. "Was it all fixed for you to take thepicture from Vickers, by force--as you told me you did?" she demanded.
He grinned brazenly. "I reckon that was part of the plan," he contended."Anyway, I got it. Vickers wouldn't speak to me for a month, but I reckonI didn't lose any sleep over that. What sleep I lost was lost lookin' atthe picture." The confession did not embarrass him, for he continuedquietly:
"An' there's Masten." He watched the smile go out of her face with regretin his eyes. But he went on. "I intended to kill him, one night. But hehad no gun, an' I couldn't. That would have spoiled the plan that's fixedfor all of us. I let him live, an' the plan works out." He took hold ofthe hand nearest him and pressed it tightly.
"Have you seen Hagar since?" he asked.
"No," she told him, looking quickly at him, for she caught an odd note inhis voice. "I just couldn't bear to think of going back there."
"Well," he said, "Hagar's happy. I was over there this mornin'. Masten'sthere." He felt her hand grip his suddenly, and he smiled. He had talkedwith Catherson; the nester had told him the story, but it had been agreedbetween them the real story was not to be told. "They're married--Hagaran' Masten. Masten come to Catherson's shack the day after I--after Ibrought you home from there. An' they rode over to Lazette an' got hookedup. An' Catherson had been lookin' for Masten, figurin' to kill him. Ireckon it was planned for Masten to have a change of heart. Or mebbe itwas gettin' married changed him. For he's a lot different, since. He'squiet, an' a heap considerate of other folks' feelin's. He's got somemoney, an' he's goin' to help Abe to fix up his place. He asked mypardon, for settin' Pickett an' Kelso on me. I shook his hand, Ruth, an'wished him luck an' happiness. Don't you wish him the same, Ruth--both ofthem?"
"Yes," she said earnestly; "I do!" And now she was looking at him withluminous eyes. "But it was very manly of you to forgive him so fully!"
"I reckon it wasn't so awful manly," he returned, blushing. "There wasn'tnothin' else to do, I expect. Would you have me hold a grudge againsthim? An' spoil everything--nature's plan included? It was to happen thatway, an' I ain't interferin'. Why, I reckon if I wasn't to forgive him,there'd be another plan spoiled--yours an' mine. An' I'm sure helpin' towork that out. I've thought of the first of the month," he said, lookingat her, expectantly, and speaking lowly. "The justice of the peace willbe back in Lazette then."
"So you've been inquiring?" she said, her face suffused with color.
"Why, sure! Somebody's got to do it. It's my job."
A little later they mounted their ponies and rode along the edge of thetimber. When they reached the tree to which he had tied her pony on thenight she had hurt her ankle, he called her attention to it.
"That's where I lost the bandanna," he told her. "It fell off my neck an'got tangled in the knot."
"Then you know!" she exclaimed.
"Sure," he said, grinning; "Uncle Jepson told me."
"I think Uncle Jep has been your right hand man all through this," shecharged.
"Why shouldn't he be?" he retorted. And she could give him no reason whyit should have been otherwise.
"It was a rather mean trick to play on me," she charged pretendingindignation.
"If you'd have thought it mean, you'd have told me about it before now,"he answered. "Patches was reliable."
"Kester an' Linton have sloped," he told her as they rode away from thetrees. "This climate was gettin' unhealthy for them."
"What makes folks act so foolish?" he questioned, later. "There ain't noway to escape what's got to be. Why can't folks take their medicinewithout makin' faces?"
She knew he referred to Masten, Chavis and Pickett, and she knew thatthis would be all the reference Randerson would ever make to them. But noanswer formed in her mind and she kept silent.
When they came to the rock upon which he had found her, he halted andregarded it gravely.
"You had me scared that night," he said. "Patches had most run his headoff. I was mighty relieved to see you."
"I treated you miserably that night," she confessed.
"Did you hear me complainin'?" he asked with a gentle smile at her. "Iexpect, some day, when we're together more, an' you get to lovin' me lessthan you do now, you'll get peevish ag'in. Married folks always do. But Iwon't notice it. I'll get on Patches--if he's alive, you wantin' to putoff the marriage so long--"
"Until the first!" she laughed, in gentle derision.
"Well," he said, with pretended gravity, "when a man has waited, as longas I've waited, he gets sort of impatient." He grinned again, and gaveher this last shot: "An' mighty _patient_ after!"
And they rode on again, through the white sunlight, close together,dreaming of days to come.
THE END
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ZANE GREY'S NOVELS
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list
THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS
A New York society girl buys a ranch which becomes the center of frontierwarfare Her loyal superintendent rescues her when she is captured bybandits. A surprising climax brings the story to a delightful close.
THE RAINBOW TRAIL
The story of a young clergyman who becomes a wanderer in the greatwestern uplands--until at last love and faith awake.
DESERT GOLD
The story describes the recent uprising along the border, and ends withthe finding of the gold which two prospectors had willed to the girl whois the story's heroine.
RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE
A picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago when Mormonauthority ruled. The prosecution of Jane Withersteen is the theme of thestory.
THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN
This is the record of a trip which the author took with Buffalo Jones,known as the preserver of the American bison, across the Arizona desertand of a hunt in "that wonderful country of deep canons and giant pines"
THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT
A lovely girl, who has been reared among Mormons, learns to love a youngNew Englander. The Mormon religion, however, demands that the girl shallbecome the second wife of one of the Mormons--Well, that's the problem ofthis great story.
THE SHORT STOP
The young hero, tiring of his factory grind, starts out to win fame andfortune as a professional ball player. His hard knocks at the start arefollowed by such success as clean sportsmanship, courage and honestyought to win.
BETTY ZANE
This story tells of the bravery and heroism of Betty, the beautiful youngsister of old Colonel Zane, one of the bravest pioneers.
THE LONE STAR RANGER
&
nbsp; After killing a man in self defense, Buck Duane becomes an outlaw alongthe Texas border. In a camp on the Mexican side of the river, he finds ayoung girl held prisoner, and in attempting to rescue her, brings downupon himself the wrath of her captors and henceforth is hunted on oneside by honest men, on the other by outlaws.
THE BORDER LEGION
Joan Randle, in a spirit of anger, sent Jim Cleve out to a lawlessWestern mining camp, to prove his mettle. Then realizing that she lovedhim--she followed him out. On her way, she is captured by a bandit band,and trouble begins when she shoots Kells, the leader--and nurses him tohealth again. Here enters another romance--when Joan, disguised as anoutlaw, observes Jim, in the throes of dissipation. A gold strike, athrilling robbery--gambling and gun play carry you along breathlessly.
THE LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTSBy Helen Cody Wetmore and Zane Grey
The life story of Colonel William F Cody, "Buffalo Bill," as told by hissister and Zane Grey. It begins with his boyhood in Iowa and his firstencounter with an Indian. We see "Bill" as a pony express rider, thennear Fort Sumter as Chief of the Scouts, and later engaged in the mostdangerous Indian campaigns. There is also a very interesting account ofthe travels of "The Wild West" Show. No character in public life makes astronger appeal to the imagination of America than "Buffalo Bill," whosedaring and bravery made him famous.
Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York
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STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY GENE STRATTON-PORTER
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
MICHAEL O'HALLORAN. Illustrated by Frances Rogers
Michael is a quick-witted little Irish newsboy, living in NorthernIndiana. He adopts a deserted little girl, a cripple. He also assumes theresponsibility of leading the entire rural community upward and onward.
LADDIE. Illustrated by Herman Pfeifer.
This is a bright, cheery tale with the scenes laid in Indiana. The storyis told by Little Sister, the youngest member of a large family, but itis concerned not so much with childish doings as with the love affairs ofolder members of the family. Chief among them is that of Laddie and thePrincess, an English girl who has come to live in the neighborhood andabout whose family there hangs a mystery.
THE HARVESTER. Illustrated by W. L. Jacobs.
"The Harvester," is a man of the woods and fields, and if the book hadnothing in it but the splendid figure of this man it would be notable.But when the Girl comes to his "Medicine Woods," there begins a romanceof the rarest idyllic quality.
FRECKLES. Illustrated.
Freckles is a nameless waif when the tale opens, but the way in which hetakes hold of life, the nature friendships he forms in the greatLimberlost Swamp, the manner in which everyone who meets him succumbs tothe charm of his engaging personality; and his love-story with "TheAngel" are full of real sentiment.
A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST. Illustrated.
The story of a girl of the Michigan woods; a buoyant, loveable type ofthe self-reliant American. Her philosophy is one of love and kindnesstowards all things, her hope is never dimmed. And by the sheer beauty ofher soul, and the purity of her vision, she wins from barren andunpromising surroundings those rewards of high courage.
AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW. Illustrations in colors.
The scene of this charming love story is laid in Central Indiana. Thestory is one of devoted friendship, and tender self-sacrificing love. Thenovel is brimful of the most beautiful word painting of nature, and itspathos and tender sentiment will endear it to all.
THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL. Profusely illustrated.
A love ideal of the Cardinal bird and his mate, told with delicacy andhumor.
Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York
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MYRTLE REED'S NOVELS
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list.
LAVENDER AND OLD LACE.
A charming story of a quaint corner of New England, where bygone romancefinds a modern parallel. The story centers round the coming of love tothe young people on the staff of a newspaper--and it is one of theprettiest, sweetest and quaintest of old-fashioned love stories.
MASTER OF THE VINEYARD.
A pathetic love story of a young girl, Rosemary. The teacher of thecountry school, who is also master of the vineyard, comes to know herthrough her desire for books. She is happy in his love till another womancomes into his life. But happiness and emancipation from her many trialscome to Rosemary at last. The book has a touch of humor and pathos thatwill appeal to every reader.
OLD ROSE AND SILVER.
A love story,--sentimental and humorous,--with the plot subordinate tothe character delineation of its quaint people and to the exquisitedescriptions of picturesque spots and of lovely, old, rare treasures.
A WEAVER OF DREAMS.
This story tells of the love-affairs of three young people, with anold-fashioned romance in the background. A tiny dog plays an importantrole in serving as a foil for the heroine's talking ingeniousness. Thereis poetry, as well as tenderness and charm, in this tale of a weaver ofdreams.
A SPINNER IN THE SUN.
An old-fashioned love story, of a veiled lady who lives in solitude andwhose features her neighbors have never seen. There is a mystery at theheart of the book that throws over it the glamour of romance.
THE MASTER'S VIOLIN.
A love story in a musical atmosphere. A picturesque, old German virtuosoconsents to take for his pupil a handsome youth who proves to have anaptitude for technique, but not the soul of an artist. The youth cannotexpress the love, the passion and the tragedies of life as can themaster. But a girl comes into his life, and through his passionate lovefor her, he learns the lessons that life has to give--and his soulawakes.
Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York
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THE NOVELS OF GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list.
GRAUSTARK. Illustrated with Scenes from the Play.
With the appearance of this novel, the author introduced a new type ofstory and won for himself a perpetual reading public. It is the story oflove behind a throne in a new and strange country.
BEVERLY OF GRAUSTARK. Illustrations by Harrison Fisher.
This is a sequel to "Graustark." A bewitching American girl visits thelittle principality and there has a romantic love affair.
PRINCE OF GRAUSTARK. Illustrations by A. I. Keller.
The Prince of Graustark is none other than the son of the heroine of"Graustark." Beverly's daughter, and an American multimillionaire with abrilliant and lovely daughter also figure in the story.
BREWSTER'S MILLIONS.Illustrated with Scenes from the Photo-Play.
A young man, required to spend one million dollars in one year; in orderto inherit _seven_, accomplishes the task in this lively story.
COWARDICE COURT.Illus. by Harrison Fisher and decorations by Theodore Hapgood.
A romance of love and adventure, the plot forming around a social feud inthe Adirondacks in which an English girl is tempted into being a traitorby a romantic young American.
THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND. Illustrated by A. I. Keller.
A story of modern New York, built around an ancient enmity; born of thescorn of the aristocrat for one of inferior birth.
WHAT'S-HIS-NAME. Illustrations by Harrison Fisher.
"What's-His-Name" is the husband of a beautiful and popular actress whois billboarded on Broadway under an assumed name. The very oppositemanner in which these two live their lives brings a dramatic climax tothe story.
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SEWELL FORD'S STORIES
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SHORTY MCCABE. Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson.
A very humorous story. The hero, an independent and vigorous thinker,sees life, and tells about it in a very unconventional way.
SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY.
Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson.
Twenty skits, presenting people with their foibles. Sympathy with humannature and an abounding sense of humor are the requisites for"side-stepping with Shorty."
SHORTY MCCABE ON THE JOB.Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson.
Shorty McCabe reappears with his figures of speech revamped right up tothe minute. He aids in the right distribution of a "conscience fund," andgives joy to all concerned.
SHORTY MCCABE'S ODD NUMBERS.Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson.
These further chronicles of Shorty McCabe tell of his studio for physicalculture, and of his experiences both on the East side and at swellyachting parties.
TORCHY. Illus. by Geo. Biehm and Jas. Montgomery Flagg.
A red-headed office boy, overflowing with wit and wisdom peculiar to theyouths reared on the sidewalks of New York, tells the story of hisexperiences.
TRYING OUT TORCHY. Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln.
Torchy is just as deliriously funny in these stories as he was in theprevious book.
ON WITH TORCHY. Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln.
Torchy falls desperately in love with "the only girl that ever was," butthat young society woman's aunt tries to keep the young people apart,which brings about many hilariously funny situations.
TORCHY, PRIVATE SEC. Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln.
Torchy rises from the position of office boy to that of secretary for theCorrugated Iron Company. The story is full of humor and infectiousAmerican slang.
WILT THOU TORCHY. Illus. by F. Snapp and A. W. Brown.
Torchy goes on a treasure search expedition to the Florida West Coast, incompany with a group of friends of the Corrugated Trust and with hisfriend's aunt, on which trip Torchy wins the aunt's permission to placean engagement ring on Vee's finger.
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B. M. Bower's Novels Thrilling Western Romances
Large 12 mos. Handsomely bound in cloth. Illustrated
CHIP, OF THE FLYING U
A breezy wholesome tale, wherein the love affairs of Chip and DellaWhitman are charmingly and humorously told. Chip's jealousy of Dr. CecilGrantham, who turns out to be a big, blue eyed young woman is veryamusing. A clever, realistic story of the American Cow-puncher.
THE HAPPY FAMILY
A lively and amusing story, dealing with the adventures of eighteenjovial, big hearted Montana cowboys. Foremost amongst them, we findAnanias Green, known as Andy, whose imaginative powers cause many livelyand exciting adventures.
HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT
A realistic story of the plains, describing a gay party of Easterners whoexchange a cottage at Newport for the rough homeliness of a Montanaranchhouse. The merry-hearted cowboys, the fascinating Beatrice, and theeffusive Sir Redmond, become living, breathing personalities.
THE RANGE DWELLERS
Here are everyday, genuine cowboys, just as they really exist. Spiritedaction, a range feud between two families, and a Romeo and Julietcourtship make this a bright, jolly, entertaining story, without a dullpage.
THE LURE OF DIM TRAILS
A vivid portrayal of the experience of an Eastern author, among thecowboys of the West, in search of "local color" for a new novel. "Bud"Thurston learns many a lesson while following "the lure of the dimtrails" but the hardest, and probably the most welcome, is that of love.
THE LONESOME TRAIL
"Weary" Davidson leaves the ranch for Portland, where conventional citylife palls on him. A little branch of sage brush, pungent with theatmosphere of the prairie, and the recollection of a pair of large browneyes soon compel his return. A wholesome love story.
THE LONG SHADOW
A vigorous Western story, sparkling with the free, outdoor, life of amountain ranch. Its scenes shift rapidly and its actors play the game oflife fearlessly and like men. It is a fine love story from start tofinish.
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THE NOVELS OF STEWARD EDWARD WHITE
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
THE BLAZED TRAIL. Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty.
A wholesome story with gleams of humor, telling of a young man who blazedhis way to fortune through the heart of the Michigan pines.
THE CALL OF THE NORTH. Ills with Scenes from the Play.
The story centers about a Hudson Bay trading post, known as "TheConjuror's House" (the original title of the book.)
THE RIVERMAN. Ills by N. C. Wyeth and C. F. Underwood.
The story of a man's fight against a river and of a struggle betweenhonesty and grit on the one side, and dishonesty and shrewdness on theother.
RULES OF THE GAME. Illustrated by Lejaren A. Hiller.
The romance of the son of "The Riverman." The young college hero goesinto the lumber camp, is antagonized by "graft," and comes into theromance of his life.
GOLD. Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty.
The gold fever of '49 is pictured with vividness. A part of the story islaid in Panama, the route taken by the gold-seekers.
THE FOREST. Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty.
The book tells of the canoe trip of the author and his companion into thegreat woods. Much information about camping and outdoor life. A splendidtreatise on woodcraft.
THE MOUNTAINS. Illustrated by Fernand Lungren.
An account of the adventures of a five months' camping trip in theSierras of California. The author has followed a true sequence of events.
THE CABIN. Illustrated with photographs by the author.
A chronicle of the building of a cabin home in a forest-girdled meadow ofthe Sierras. Full of nature and woodcraft, and the shrewd philosophy of"California John."
THE GRAY DAWN. Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty.
This book tells of the period shortly after the first mad rush for goldin California. A young lawyer and his wife, initiated into the gay lifeof San Francisco, find their ways parted through his downward course, butsucceeding events bring the "gray dawn of better things" for both ofthem.
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NOVELS OF FRONTIER LIFE BY WILLIAM MacLEOD RAINE
HANDSOMELY BOUND IN CLOTH. ILLUSTRATED.
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list
MAVERICKS.
A tale of the western frontier, where the "rustler," whose depredationsare so keenly resented by the early settlers of the range, abounds. Oneof the sweetest love stories ever told.
A TEXAS RANGER.
How a member of the most dauntless border police force carried law intothe mesquit, saved the life of an innocent man after a series ofthrilling adventures, followed a fugitive to Wyoming, and then passedthrough deadly peril to ultimate happiness.
WYOMING.
In this vivid story of the outdoor West the author has captured thebreezy charm
of "cattleland," and brings out the turbid life of thefrontier with all its engaging dash and vigor.
RIDGWAY OF MONTANA.
The scene is laid in the mining centers of Montana, where politics andmining industries are the religion of the country. The political contest,the love scene, and the fine character drawing give this story greatstrength and charm.
BUCKY O'CONNOR.
Every chapter teems with wholesome, stirring adventures, replete with thedashing spirit of the border, told with dramatic dash and absorbingfascination of style and plot.
CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT.
A story of Arizona; of swift-riding men and daring outlaws; of a bitterfeud between cattle-men and sheep-herders. The heroine is a most unusualwoman and her love story reaches a culmination that is fittinglycharacteristic of the great free West.
BRAND BLOTTERS.
A story of the Cattle Range. This story brings out the turbid life of thefrontier, with all its engaging dash and vigor, with a charming loveinterest running through its 320 pages.
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JACK LONDON'S NOVELS
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
JOHN BARLEYCORN. Illustrated by H. T. Dunn.
This remarkable book is a record of the author's own amazing experiences.This big, brawny world rover, who has been acquainted with alcohol fromboyhood, comes out boldly against John Barleycorn. It is a string ofexciting adventures, yet it forcefully conveys an unforgetable idea andmakes a typical Jack London book.
THE VALLEY OF THE MOON. Frontispiece by George Harper.
The story opens in the city slums where Billy Roberts, teamster and exprize fighter, and Saxon Brown, laundry worker, meet and love and marry.They tramp from one end of California to the other, and in the Valley ofthe Moon find the farm paradise that is to be their salvation.
BURNING DAYLIGHT. Four illustrations.
The story of an adventurer who went to Alaska and laid the foundations ofhis fortune before the gold hunters arrived. Bringing his fortunes to theStates he is cheated out of it by a crowd of money kings, and recovers itonly at the muzzle of his gun. He then starts out as a mercilessexploiter on his own account. Finally he takes to drinking and becomes apicture of degeneration. About this time he falls in love with hisstenographer and wins her heart but not her hand and then--but read thestory!
A SON OF THE SUN. Illustrated by A. O. Fischer and C.W. Ashley.
David Grief was once a light haired, blue eyed youth who came fromEngland to the South Seas in search of adventure. Tanned like a nativeand as lithe as a tiger, he became a real son of the sun. The lifeappealed to him and he remained and became very wealthy.
THE CALL OF THE WILD. Illustrations by Philip R Goodwin and CharlesLivingston Bull. Decorations by Charles E Hooper.
A book of dog adventures as exciting as any man's exploits could be. Hereis excitement to stir the blood and here is picturesque color totransport the reader to primitive scenes.
THE SEA WOLF. Illustrated by W. J. Aylward.
Told by a man whom Fate suddenly swings from his fastidious life into thepower of the brutal captain of a sealing schooner. A novel of adventurewarmed by a beautiful love episode that every reader will hail withdelight.
WHITE FANG. Illustrated by Charles Livingston Bull.
"White Fang" is part dog, part wolf and all brute, living in the frozennorth, he gradually comes under the spell of man's companionship, andsurrenders all at the last in a fight with a bull dog. Thereafter he isman's loving slave.
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