Once upon a time there was an editor of a magazine who had certain ideas concerning short stories. This is not wonderful, for editors have such ideas; and when they find a short story which corresponds, they accept it with joy and pay good sums for it. This particular editor believed that a short story […]

“It isn’t that I object to,” protested the Easterner, leaning forward from the rough log wall to give emphasis to his words, “for I believe in everyone having his fun his own way. If you’re going in for orgies, why, have ’em good orgies, and be done with it. But my kick’s on letting these […]

This is one of the stories of Alfred. There are many of them still floating around the West, for Alfred was in his time very well known. He was a little man, and he was bashful. That is the most that can be said against him; but he was very little and very bashful. When […]

During one spring of the early seventies Billy Knapp ran a species of road-house and hotel at the crossing of the Deadwood and Big Horn trails through Custer Valley. Travellers changing from one to the other frequently stopped there over night. He sold accommodations for man and beast, the former comprising plenty of whiskey, the […]

This happened at the time Billy Knapp drove stage between Pierre and Deadwood. I think you can still see the stage in Buffalo Bill’s show. Lest confusion arise and the reader be inclined to credit Billy with more years than are his due, it might be well also to mention that the period was some […]

This story is most blood-and-thundery, but, then, it is true. It is one of the stories of Alfred; but Alfred is not the hero of it at all–quite another man, not nearly so interesting in himself as Alfred. At the time, Alfred and this other man, whose name was Tom, were convoying a band of […]

I first met him one Fourth of July afternoon in the middle eighties. The sawdust streets and high board sidewalks of the lumber town were filled to the brim with people. The permanent population, dressed in the stiffness of its Sunday best, escorted gingham wives or sweethearts; a dozen outsiders like myself tried not to […]

A man is one thing: a man plus his work is another, entirely different. You can learn this anywhere, but in the lumber woods best of all. Especially is it true of the camp boss, the foreman. A firm that knows its business knows this, and so never considers merely what sort of a character […]

Once Morrison & Daly, of Saginaw, but then lumbering at Beeson Lake, lent some money to a man named Crothers, taking in return a mortgage on what was known as the Crothers Tract of white pine. In due time, as Crothers did not liquidate, the firm became possessed of this tract. They hardly knew what […]

“Obey orders if you break owners” is a good rule, but a really efficient river-boss knows a better. It runs, “Get the logs out. Get them out peaceably if you can, but get them out.” He does not need a field-telephone to headquarters to teach him how to live up to the spirit of this […]

The prophet confessed four things as beyond his understanding–the way of an eagle in the air, the way of a serpent upon the rock, the way of a ship in the midst of the sea, and the way of a man with a maid–but we of modern times must add a fifth, and that is […]

I Barbara hesitated long between the open-work stockings and the plain-silk, but finally decided on the former. Then she vouchsafed a pleased little smile to her pleasant little image in the mirror, and stepped through the door into the presence of her aunt. The aunt was appropriately astonished. This was the first time Barbara had […]

CHAPTER ONE THE CATTLE RUSTLERS Buck Johnson was American born, but with a black beard and a dignity of manner that had earned him the title of Senor. He had drifted into southeastern Arizona in the days of Cochise and Victorio and Geronimo. He had persisted, and so in time had come to control the […]

CHAPTER ONE THE PASSING OF THE COLT’S FORTY-FIVE The man of whom I am now to tell you came to Arizona in the early days of Chief Cochise. He settled in the Soda Springs Valley, and there persisted in spite of the devastating forays of that Apache. After a time he owned all the wells […]

The cook stuck his head in at the open door. “Say, you fellows,” he complained, “I got to be up at three o’clock. Ain’t you never going to turn in?” “Shut up, Doctor!” “Somebody kill him!” “Here, sit down and listen to this yarn!” yelled a savage chorus. There ensued a slight scuffle, a few […]

“I’d like to have trailed you fellows,” sighed a voice from the corner. “Would you!” said Colorado Rogers grimly. It was five days to the next water. But they were worse than the eight days before. We were lucky, however, for at the spring we discovered in a deep wash near the coast, was the […]

I had agreed with Denton to stick to the beach, but Schwartz could not last much longer, and I had not the slightest idea how far it might prove to be to Mollyhay. So I turned up the trail. We climbed a mountain ten thousand feet high. I mean that; and I know, for I’ve […]

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 bread-pudding with raisins in it. We filled it–in a […]

It was dark night. The stay-herd bellowed frantically from one of the big corrals; the cow-and-calf-herd from a second. Already the remuda, driven in from the open plains, scattered about the thousand acres of pasture. Away from the conveniences of fence and corral, men would have had to patrol all night. Now, however, everyone was […]

All that night we slept like sticks of wood. No dreams visited us, but in accordance with the immemorial habit of those who live out–whether in the woods, on the plains, among the mountains, or at sea–once during the night each of us rose on his elbow, looked about him, and dropped back to sleep. […]