Genre - Western. You are on the page - 23

seen him since he left home. I was a child of seven then."The Texan looked down at the ruffian under his feet. "Do you know the road to Mexico by the Arivaca cut-off?" "Yes." "Then climb into my rig and hit the trail hard-- burn it up till you've crossed the line." The fellow began to whine thanks, but the man above would have none of them, "I'm giving you this chance for your sister's sake. You won't make anything of it. You're born for meanness and

tch--against thot wagon and horses yours, and thee harness--thee whole damned shutting-match--thot I haf win!" He proceeded to finish his cigarette.Felipe stared at him hard. Surely his ears had deceived him! If they had not deceived him, if, for a fact, the hombre had expressed a willingness to bet all he had on the outcome of this thing, then Franke, fellow-townsman, compadre, brother-wood-hauler, was crazy! But he determined to find out. "What you said, Franke?" he asked,

think I must have been hypnotized. I stood there like a frozen image, and let that crippled cow-rustler rob those two women--take the rings from their fingers!""Oh, hold on; there's another side to all that, and you know it," the vice-president began; but Lidgerwood would not listen. "No," he protested; "don't try to find excuses for me; there were none. The fellow gave me every chance; turned his back on me as an absolutely negligible factor while he was going

d enlivened by a multitude of birds.We overtook on the way our late fellow-travelers, the Kansas Indians,who, adorned with all their finery, were proceeding homeward at around pace; and whatever they might have seemed on board the boat,they made a very striking and picturesque feature in the forestlandscape.Westport was full of Indians, whose little shaggy ponies were tied bydozens along the houses and fences. Sacs and Foxes, with shavedheads and painted faces, Shawanoes and Delawares,

te was loud, now--hoarse, and portentous of evil.The high banks on either side of the river drew closer together, the speed of the drifting scows increased, and upon the dark surface of the water tiny whirlpools appeared. Vermilion raised the pole above his head and pointed toward a narrow strip of beach that showed dimly at the foot of the high bank, at a point only a few hundred yards above the dark gap where the river plunged between the upstanding rocks of the Chute. Looking backward, Chloe

IN SEARCH OF A RELIGION.BY MR. BENJAMINS. CHAPTER I. "I remember him a little boy," said the Duchess. "His mother was a dear friend of mine; you know she was one of my bridesmaids." "And you have never seen him since, mamma?" asked the oldest married daughter, who did not look a day older than her mother. "Never; he was an orphan shortly after. I have often reproached myself, but it is so difficult to see boys." This simple yet first-class conversation