The Peace of Roaring River
It is particularly in the great north countries that the season
changes from the lion into the lamb, with a swiftness that is
perfectly bewildering. The sick man was getting well. Over a week
since, Dr. Starr had declared that all danger had passed. And as the
days went by the cold that had shackled the land disappeared so that
the frosted limbs by the great falls wept off their coating of gems,
and the earth, in great patches, began to show new verdure. Then had
come twenty-four hours of a pelting, crashing rain, that had melted
away more snow and ice. After the rain was over and the sky had
cleared again, Madge had gone out and stood by the brink of the great
falls, where she watched the thundering turbid flood as it madly
rushed into the great pit below. Incessantly great cakes of ice poised
on the brown-white edge above for an instant, and hurled themselves
furiously into the chasm as if bent on everlasting devastation. The
river itself was rising swiftly and from time to time the great logs
that had remained stranded in the upper reaches of the river also
plunged into the vortex, where they twisted and sank and rose,
endlessly.
There was something fascinating in this vast turmoil of mighty forces,
in this leaping forth of a great river now liberated and escaping
towards the great lakes and thence to the ocean. Hitherto Madge had
gazed upon them timidly, with sudden shivers, as if all this had
represented part of the great peril of life and actually threatened
her. But now it seemed to have become a part of the immensity of this
world, a fragment of the wondrous heritage of nations still to be
born. And just as the flood still had a long journey to travel ere it
found rest in the Atlantic's bosom, so now Madge felt that her own
course represented but the beginning of a new and greater life.
In spite of many nights spent at that bedside, she looked far better
and more robust than when she had first reached Roaring River. Courage
had returned to her and with it the will to endure, to live, to seize
upon her share of the wondrous glory of this new world that was so
fresh and beautiful. And yet her thoughts were very sober; she did not
feel that she had reached utter happiness. Her life would now be one
of usefulness, according to the doctor's promise. She felt that faces
might become cheerier at her coming and that little children--the
children of other people--would welcome her and crow out their little
joy.
Several long nights of quiet rest had built her up into a woman that
was no longer the factory drudge or the recent inmate of hospitals.
One of the Papineau children had come over to remain with Hugo, lest
he should need anything. Madge attended him during the day, concocting
things on the stove, dressing the fast closing wound and administering
the drugs left by the doctor, with the greatest punctuality, and the
man's eyes followed her every motion, generally in silence. She also
spoke little. It was as if, upon both of them, a timidity had come
that made it hard for them to exchange thoughts. The first time he had
wanted to speak of the problem of her coming she failed to encourage
him.
"I know all that happened now," she told him, "and I have long known
that you were not at fault, in any way. Indeed, I feel grateful for
your forbearance when I first came. But, if you don't mind, we won't
speak of it again. It--it distresses me."
He saw plainly that she had blushed, in spite of the fact that she
turned her head swiftly away, and remained silent until she came again
with a teaspoonful of something he must swallow.
So she sat down again and her mind reverted to the future, which was
certainly immeasurably splendid and promising, as compared to the
outlook of a fortnight before. In her pockets were the letters she had
written to this man. Dr. Starr had brought them to her one day, when
Hugo was already able to listen and understand.
"I think they were intended for me," said the latter, gently.
"No!" exclaimed Madge, reddening and leaping from her stool. "Please
give them to me, Dr. Starr. They were sent to an utterly unknown man.
They were replies to letters you never sent and therefore they're not
yours. Please--I--I'd rather you didn't see them!"
The young man had nodded, quietly.
"Of course they're yours," he acknowledged. "We--we won't mention them
again, if it's your wish."
"Indeed--indeed it is. They were just a cry for help--for a chance to
live--perhaps for a little happiness. Dr. Starr has now offered me all
these things and I have accepted--ever so gratefully. I--I had taken a
step that was utter folly, yes, absolute madness. But now the most
wonderful good fortune has brought me the fulfilment of these desires
and I want to forget all the rest--the burning shame I have felt as
well as the terror with which I approached whatever was in store for
me. That part of it will pass away like some bad dream, I hope.
It's--it's kind of you not to insist on seeing these letters."
"That's all right, Miss Nelson," said the doctor, soothingly. "Hugo,
my lad, you owe a good deal to your nurse and I'm glad that you're
properly grateful and not unduly curious."
But Hugo called Maigan to him, without answering, and patted the
animal's head, after which he remarked that the days were getting much
longer.
Came another day when the patient was able to get up, with the aid of
Stefan and his nurse, and manifested the usual surprise of the strong
man after illness. It was astonishing that his legs were so weak, and
he couldn't understand the dizzy sensations in his head.
After a time he became able to use his arm a little, very cautiously,
and his joy was great when it served him to handle a fork, for the
first time since he had been ill.
And so now she was standing beside these great falls, thinking very
deeply. She was disappointed at herself because she did not feel
properly happy and grateful; indeed, she was dropping in her own
estimation. If any one, a month before, had placed before her the
prospect of honest toil among friendly faces, of usefulness that would
benefit her while gaining gratitude from others, she would have deemed
herself the happiest woman in the world. Yes, the world should have
been a very beautiful and kindly place, now that hunger and pain were
eliminated, now that the coming of spring would cause sap to surge up
the trees so that the branches would soon clothe themselves in the
tender glory of new leafage. Her own existence was on the verge of a
fresh new growth that might lead to greater things, and yet she
reproached herself because she could not become conscious of a real
happiness, of a glorious achievement that had been like an unexpected
manna coming to starvelings in a desert. She felt nothing but a quiet
acquiescence in the new conditions and accepted her new destiny with a
sigh.
She did not realize yet that in her soul a new longing had come, that
would not be denied.
She returned slowly to the shack where Hugo sat in an armchair brought
all the way from Carcajou on Stefan's sled. His arm was still in a
sling. It was fortunate that it was the left one, for he was very
busily engaged in writing.
The girl waited for some time, leaning against the doorpost and
watching some chipping sparrows that had recently arrived and were
thinking hard about nest-building in the neighboring bushes.
The weeds and grasses and wild flowers were beginning to peep out of
the ground, with the haste that is peculiar to northern lands where
life is strenuous during the few months of warm fair weather. The
tender hues of the burgeoning birches and poplars, streaked with the
gleaming silver of their trunks, were casting soft notes upon the
strong greens of the conifers and the indigo of their shadows. In the
spray of the falls, to her left, a tiny rainbow seemed to dance, and
the loud song of the rushing waters was like the call of some great
loving voice. She reflected that she would have to go again to a place
in which many people lived. It would not be like a city. The same
trees and the same waters and the same flowers would be there, very
close at hand. Not a single house abutted against another. In the
gardens there would be old-fashioned flowers such as she had been
familiar with at home, before she had sought the town. Dr. Starr had
described it all. Ten minutes' walk would take one beyond the
habitations of men, into woodlands and fields and by a lake that
extended into a far wilderness, upon which one could drive a canoe and
feel as if one owned a great and beautiful world, for men were seldom
on it and above the surface it was peopled chiefly by great diving
birds and broods of ducklings. It all sounded, and doubtless was,
perfectly ideal.
But presently Hugo had finished his writing and was leaning back in
his chair.
"Do you think you would like some of those nice fresh eggs Mrs.
Papineau's little girl brought this morning?" she asked him. "And
would you like me to close the door now?"
"Thanks, Miss Nelson," he said, "I'm sure I should enjoy them ever so
much. They're a rather scarce commodity with us. Too many weasels and
skunks and other chicken-eaters to make it a healthy country for hens.
As to the door I'll be glad to have you close it if you feel cold. But
it's delightful for me to be sitting here all wrapped up in blankets
and taking in big lungfuls of our forest air. It--it makes a fellow
feel like a two-year-old."
She was about to break the eggs into a pan when she noticed the letter
lying on the table.
"Would you like me to get you an envelope, for it?" she asked.
"If you'll be so kind," he assented, gravely.
She would have offered to put the paper in the envelope for him also,
but he managed it easily enough and closed the flap.
"That's done," he said. "I wonder what will come of it?"
To this she could not reply, so she prepared the eggs and brought them
to him, with his tea and toast.
"They're going to be ever so good," he said, taking up a fork, after
which he stared out of the still-opened door.
"If you don't eat them now, they'll be cold in a minute," she warned
him.
"Oh, I'd forgotten! I must beg your pardon since you took so much
trouble about them."
He ate them slowly, as if performing some hard and solemn task. When
he had finished his meal, Madge cleared the table.
"Is there anything else you would like?" she asked. "One of your
books?"
"No, I--I don't think I want to read, just now. I--I am feeling
rather--rather disturbed for the moment."
"What's the matter?" she inquired, solicitously.
"It's this--this habit I've gotten into," he said, "of having a--a
nurse at my side. It seems very strange that she will soon be gone.
I've learnt to depend so much on.... And Stefan is coming to take you
away to Carcajou--and then over there to Dr. Starr's. Then I believe
I'm to go and stay with the Papineaus, till I can handle a frying-pan
and an axe. The--the prospect is a dismal one."
She took a little step towards him but he had bent over the letter and
was directing it. When this was done he stared at it for a moment and,
unsteadily, handed it to the girl, with the writing down.
"I--I would like you to deliver this for me," he told her. "It is ever
so important and--and our post-office isn't very reliable, I'm afraid.
But I know I can trust you."
She looked at him in surprise and then she looked at the envelope. To
her intense amazement she read:
Miss Madge Nelson,
Roaring River.
"What does this mean?" she asked, bewildered.
"I--I'm afraid you will have to read it to find out," he answered.
She opened the door and rushed out. One fear was in her heart. She
dreaded to find money in it. How dared he offer to pay for what she
had done? She would lay the envelope on the table, with its contents,
and quietly say--well, what could she say?
With the thing in her hand she walked down the path to the edge of the
falls, where she sat down on an old big trunk of birch fallen many
years ago and partly covered with moss. For one or two long minutes
she held it in her lap, gazing at the rushing waters without seeing
them. A strange fluttering was at her heart, a curious trepidation
that was akin to intense fear caused her neck to throb, but her face
was very pale. Finally, with a swift gesture, she tore the envelope
open and read:
MY GOOD LITTLE NURSE:
Those other letters were not from me but this one is: you saw me
write it. It carries a thousand thanks for your kindness and
devotion to your helpless patient. During those dreadfully long
hours your presence was a blessing; it could soothe away the pain
and bring hope and comfort. In a couple of weeks more I shall be
as strong as ever, but I know that without you Roaring River will
never be the same. You came here bravely, ready to marry a decent
man who would help you bear the burdens of this world, which had
proved too heavy for you. Of course the man must be honest and
worthy of your trust. After all that you underwent from the first
moment of your being left alone on the tote-road I cannot wonder
at your desire to go away. But I feel that without you I could
never have pulled through and that by this time the prospect of a
life spent without you is unbearable.
I am not begging you humbly for your love. I don't want to owe it
to your pity for the man who was so ill, to the deep charity and
the kindness of a sweet and unselfish nature. That is why I
couldn't speak out my longing for you and the love that fills my
heart, lest I might surprise you into a hasty consent. I could not
have restrained my emotion and I know I would have begged and
implored--and that might have made it very hard and painful for
you to refuse.
Please return to me after you have read and thought this over. If
we are to remain but friends you will extend one hand to me and I
shall know what it means. I daresay I shall survive that hurt as I
survived the other. Have no fear for me.
But if you feel in your heart that you can give me all I long for,
that you are willing to become my wife, then stretch both of those
little hands to me, since it will take the two to carry such a
precious gift.
Your hopeful and grateful patient,
HUGO.
After she had finished she tried to read the paper again, but it was
too hard to see. For a moment she stared at the Roaring Falls through
the misty veil of their spray. Thrusting the letter into her bosom she
found her feet, suddenly, and ran to the little shack. Hugo had risen
and was standing in the doorway, his heart beating fast and his face
very pale. As Madge came near she uplifted both hands, but she could
hardly see him. Once more her eyes were suffused with tears, but it
was as if the glory of a wondrous sunlit world had been too strong for
them. She was smiling happily, however, when he took both little hands
into his right.
"I--I hurried back," she panted. "Neither--neither did I feel
that--that I could live without you--without this wonderful peace of
beautiful Roaring River, and--and the love that it has brought to
me!"
A few moments later they heard Big Stefan's familiar shout from the
tote-road. The toboggan could no longer be used and he had driven over
a shaggy old horse that had pulled a reliable buckboard.
"Dot's yoost great!" he roared, as he saw Hugo standing outside the
shack. "I tank I'm more pleased as if I find a dozen goldmines, you
bet! De leetle leddy she safe you all right--all right. But now I take
her avay to Meester Doctor Starr, like he telt me to. De doctor he gif
me a bit letter for you, ma'am. I find it soon."
Two letters on a single day was heavy mail for Roaring River. Madge
tore the last one open and read:
My Dear Miss Nelson:
Stefan has promised to bring you to us to-morrow. I want you to
come, for my wife and the kiddies are awaiting you. From my latest
study of conditions at Roaring River I have gathered that you may
not stay with us as long as I had first hoped, but at any rate it
will be long enough to do a little fixing and arranging of
feminine garments. My instinct tells me that your visit to us will
be short since our patient, if you tarry too long, may come and
steal you away. He will have to come anyway for, just as I'm the
nearest doctor to you, so my friend Jamieson is the nearest
parson.
With every best wish,
Very sincerely yours,
DAVID STARR.
Madge handed the letter over to Hugo who quickly looked it over.
"Wonderful fellow is Starr," he declared.
Stefan took his friend Hugo up in his arms, in spite of protests on
the latter's part that he wanted to try to walk. The young man was a
light load, indeed, at this time. He was placed on the seat of the
buckboard and, with Stefan carefully leading the horse and Madge
walking alongside, was taken up to Papineau's.
The woodlands were very different now, thought the girl. When she had
arrived the great land was plunged in slumber under its mantle of
snow. The few birds there were at the time were voiceless, like the
partridges that only find a peep when fluffy broods follow them, or
some of the larger fowl which only hoot or shriek. The sound-calls of
the wilderness had been those of struggling waters, of cracking trees,
of snow-masses violently displaced. But now birds were in full song
everywhere, carrying trifles of stick and floss and grass wherewith to
build their nests. Formerly there had been the uneasy groans and sighs
of a gigantic restless sleeper. Now there was the chant of a
heart-free nature engaged again in vigorous toil, in wresting the
recurrent glory of surging life and hope from the powers of darkness
and bitter, benumbing cold. It was a resurrection!
The mile separating the shack from the Papineau homestead had been a
long and fatiguing one on the first occasion of Madge's going to see
the wounded man. Now the distance was trivial; a few sturdy steps, a
few fillings of one's lungs with the scent of conifers; and there was
the little chimney smoking and the cow with her little calf, and the
dogs, and the few hens that had survived the attacks of weasels. Best
of all there were her friends, children and babies and the quiet
Frenchman and the kind-hearted, red-cheeked, cheery mother whose
influence had been paramount in creating a little paradise in the
wilds.
She helped Hugo off the buckboard, jealously, deeming herself the only
one who could properly handle an invalid, and enthroned him in the
best chair, near the open fire.
"You--you are h'all so velcome as I can't say," she declared.
"Miss Nelson is going away with Stefan in a few minutes," said Hugo,
cheerfully.
At this Mrs. Papineau's face fell. She looked positively unhappy.
"Some'ow," she said, sniffing, "I always 'ope she stay 'ere h'all de
time now. I--I never tink she go avay for good. De--de dogs and de
calf and--an--de baby and chil'ren dey all love 'er. I h'awful
sorry."
"But--but I'm coming back, Mrs. Papineau," cried Madge. "I--I can't
live away from--from Roaring River now!"
"Dey two iss ter be marrit!" roared Stefan. "Hey! What you tank? I
tank so all de time, you bet!"
At this they all crowded around Madge, and such hand-shakings, and
such kisses from the good woman and the children, and such joy
depicted on all the faces! She thought that never a bride had received
such heartfelt congratulations and good wishes.
But in a couple of hours the old horse was quite rested and had
finished the small bag of oats Stefan had brought and eaten plenty of
the sweet-scented hay furnished by Papineau, and it was time to go.
Strangely enough, at the last moment, the usually crowded house was
deserted excepting by two, who found themselves in one another's
arms.
"God bless you, Madge," said the man. "I will come soon."
"I shall be waiting," answered the girl, simply.
And so she rode away again, in the old buckboard that rolled and
pitched and heaved and bucked so that very often she got off and
walked at the side of Stefan.
Late that night she found herself in the doctor's home, after a
wonderful welcome from his wife and himself. The kiddies had been put
to bed.
"I--I feel that--that I am deserting you, that you trusted me to help
you with a splendid work," she said, with head bent down.
"That is not so," the man answered gravely. "Remember what I told you
when I was trying to enlist you. I say that more than for any other
purposes, we wanted women, good women, to come and become the mothers
of the strong, fine breed that can alone master our wilderness. Hugo
is one of those fellows of brawn and brain who are working towards the
common happiness in establishing his own. He needs a helper he can
love and trust and cherish, one who will in herself be the biggest
reward he can ever gain, and make him feel that the bigger part of the
purpose of his life has been secured with your promise to marry him.
To me the sick and the halt are paramount--but they will have to wait
a little. In some way or other they will be looked after, I promise
you, for no man in a responsible position can be anything but a
problem-solver, in these places, and I'll find someone, never fear."
"Yours will be the more important occupation now, my dear," said the
doctor's wife; "you'll be in the front ranks of the fighters."
So the doctor went away and the two women made the sewing-machine hum,
and cut and basted and threaded needles. Together they managed to put
together all that was indispensable and to discard the frivolous, as
became the wives of pioneers.
Two or three weeks went by very fast and one day Sophy McGurn, from
behind the shop-window, saw Hugo Ennis standing on the platform of the
little station at Carcajou. With him was big Stefan, clad in his best,
and the entire Papineau family. Most of the children were about to
take the very first railway journey of their lives and the excitement
was intense and prolonged. Finally the train came puffing along and
went away again, panting on the upgrade, while Miss Sophy bit her
nails hard.
There is no doubt that Stefan had kept still, since he had been
requested to. No one else in Carcajou knew anything as to the
inwardness of the girl's coming, of Sophy's share in it, or of the
discovery by the doctor of the latter's duplicity. And yet there was
an element in Carcajou that frowned upon the young lady. Her
accusation had been reported far and wide. To the settlers of the
place her suspicions had seemed uncalled-for and bespeaking a mean and
vicious disposition. Hugo, after all, had been everybody's friend. He
was now about to marry this young woman from far-away New York. This
utterly disproved Sophy's statements, wherefore she became more
unpopular than ever. A couple of hundred men had come over to work at
the sawmill, that was purring and grinding and shrieking again, all
day and night. In the course of events they were learning all about
the matter, and some of the more ribald asked her jocular questions.
It was annoying, to say the least, to have a big logger come in and
ask what were the news of the day, and if there was any more murdering
going on. She projected to leave Carcajou as soon as she could, and
made her parents wish she would, as soon as possible.
The party reached their station and walked over to the church, that
stood in what looked like a pasture, with great stumps of trees still
dotting the ground. About it was the very small beginning of a
graveyard. With the years it would grow but always it would be swept
by the winds blowing aromatic scents from the forests beyond the lake.
And about the church itself grew simple flowers, some of which were
beginning to twine themselves upon the walls. Madge came up the aisle,
attended by Stefan and the doctor. Hugo met them, the emotion of the
moment having caused some of the pallor to return to his cheeks.
It was soon all over. At the doctor's house there was a little repast,
followed by some simple words that sounded hopeful and strong. An hour
later the couple left, but not for a honeymoon in the towns. It was in
a place reached after many hours of paddling, where the red trout
abounded and the swallows darted over the waters. Here in their tent
they could do their own cooking, beginning the life that was to be one
of mutual help, of cheerful toil, of achievement and of happiness.
When they came back to Carcajou again, Stefan was waiting for them
with a strong team of horses able easily to negotiate the tote-road.
This highway, in many places, had been repaired. Fallen trees were cut
across and pulled to one side, swampy bits were corduroyed, big holes
had been filled in. Indeed, the traffic had become important, all of a
sudden, towards the Roaring Falls. Lumber had been hauled there, and
many tools, and kegs of nails, and a gang of men had walked over.
Finally they came in sight of the river again, in which were no more
black-looking, threatening air-holes. Mostly it was placid now, with
rapids that could easily be passed over by ably-managed canoes or
bateaux, succeeding the deep still waters now and then and frothing
and fuming only as if in play. Here a big blue heron rose from it, and
there a couple of kingfishers jabbered and scolded and shrieked.
Partridges crossed the road in front of the horses, and the inevitable
rabbit scampered away in leisurely fashion.
But they reached the little path that led to the shack without seeing
anything of the tiny home or of the falls beyond, for the bushes and
shrubs were in full foliage and seemed to be concealing their Eden
from passers-by. Madge leaped from the wagon. Her kingdom was over
there, just a few rods away, and she was eager to see it again.
Yes! The shack was still there, looking tinier than ever. But very
close to it a foundation had been dug from which rose rough walls of
broken stone. Upon these strong scantlings had been fastened and men
were clapboarding them over into a bigger and finer home.
Above the trees some smoke was showing. It marked a place where a
half-score shacks and little barracks were going up, to shelter the
men who were to follow deeper those promising veins in the great
rocks. There would soon be blasting and more drilling and the breaking
up of ore, which would be carried down the river to the railroad. But
from the edge of the great falls nothing of all this could be seen.
Except for the new house everything seemed to be unchanged. It was
with a sentiment of a little awe, of gratefulness, of a surprise which
the passing of the weeks had not yet been able to dispel, that Madge
realized that this was now her own, the place of her future toil, the
spot where she was to found a home and fill it with happiness.
It was marvelous! It was a thousand times more splendid than anything
she could have conceived when first she was journeying to this
country. And the greatness of it lay in the fact that she understood,
that she realized, that she knew that the whole world lay before her
and her husband, to make or mar, to convert into a part of the great
effort that is always a joy, the upbuilding of a home, or to allow to
revert into the wilderness again if strength were lacking.
At first she could not step farther than the little spot from which
her dwelling-place first stood revealed.
"What do you think of it, Madge?" asked her husband.
"I think that if I had prayed all my life for a wonderful home, before
coming here, I would never have been able to pray for anything so
splendid. Think of it--you and I--for years and years that will pass
ever so swiftly, together in this glorious place and enjoying perfect
peace--the great peace of Roaring River!"
And the man stood by, his heart very full, his thoughts following her
own, and a wave of happiness surged into his being, for all that was
best in his former dreams was at his hand, since nothing but the woman
at his side really counted.
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
frontier warfare. Her loyal superintendent rescues her when she is
captured by bandits. 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 great
western uplands--until at last love and faith awake.
DESERT GOLD
The story describes the recent uprising along the border, and ends
with the finding of the gold which two prospectors had willed to the
girl who is the story's heroine.
RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE
A picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago when Mormon
authority ruled. The prosecution of Jane Withersteen is the theme of
the story.
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
desert and 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
young New Englander. The Mormon religion, however, demands that the
girl shall become the second wife of one of the Mormons--Well, that's
the problem of this great story.
THE SHORT STOP
The young hero, tiring of his factory grind, starts out to win fame
and fortune as a professional ball player. His hard knocks at the
start are followed by such success as clean sportsmanship, courage and
honesty ought to win.
BETTY ZANE
This story tells of the bravery and heroism of Betty, the beautiful
young sister of old Colonel Zane, one of the bravest pioneers.
THE LONE STAR RANGER
After killing a man in self defense, Buck Duane becomes an outlaw
along the Texas border. In a camp on the Mexican side of the river, he
finds a young girl held prisoner, and in attempting to rescue her,
brings down upon himself the wrath of her captors and henceforth is
hunted on one side by honest men, on the other by outlaws.
THE BORDER LEGION
Joan Randle, in a spirit of anger, sent Jim Cleve out to a lawless
Western mining camp, to prove his mettle. Then realizing that she
loved him--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 to health again. Here enters another romance--when Joan,
disguised as an outlaw, observes Jim, in the throes of dissipation. A
gold strike, a thrilling robbery--gambling and gun play carry you
along breathlessly.
THE LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS,
By Helen Cody Wetmore and Zane Grey
The life story of Colonel William F. Cody, "Buffalo Bill," as told by
his sister and Zane Grey. It begins with his boyhood in Iowa and his
first encounter with an Indian. We see "Bill" as a pony express rider,
then near Fort Sumter as Chief of the Scouts, and later engaged in the
most dangerous Indian campaigns. There is also a very interesting
account of the travels of "The Wild West Show." No character in public
life makes a stronger appeal to the imagination of America than
"Buffalo Bill," whose daring and bravery made him famous.
GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
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 Northern
Indiana. He adopts a deserted little girl, a cripple. He also assumes
the responsibility 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
story is told by Little Sister, the youngest member of a large family,
but it is concerned not so much with childish doings as with the love
affairs of older members of the family. Chief among them is that of
Laddie and the Princess, an English girl who has come to live in the
neighborhood and about 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 had
nothing 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
romance of the rarest idyllic quality.
FRECKLES. Illustrated.
Freckles is a nameless waif when the tale opens, but the way in which
he takes hold of life; the nature friendships he forms in the great
Limberlost Swamp; the manner in which everyone who meets him succumbs
to the charm of his engaging personality; and his love story with "The
Angel" are full of real sentiment.
A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST. Illustrated.
The story of a girl of the Michigan woods; a buoyant, loveable type of
the self-reliant American. Her philosophy is one of love and kindness
towards all things; her hope is never dimmed. And by the sheer beauty
of her soul, and the purity of her vision, she wins from barren and
unpromising 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. The
story is one of devoted friendship, and tender self-sacrificing love.
The novel is brimful of the most beautiful word painting of nature,
and its pathos 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 and
humor.
GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
KATHLEEN NORRIS' STORIES
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
MOTHER. Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.
This book has a fairy-story touch, counterbalanced by the sturdy
reality of struggle, sacrifice, and resulting peace and power of a
mother's experiences.
SATURDAY'S CHILD.
Frontispiece by F. Graham Cootes.
Out on the Pacific coast a normal girl, obscure and lovely, makes a
quest for happiness. She passes through three stages--poverty, wealth
and service--and works out a creditable salvation.
THE RICH MRS. BURGOYNE.
Illustrated by Lucius H. Hitchcock.
The story of a sensible woman who keeps within her means, refuses to
be swamped by social engagements, lives a normal human life of varied
interests, and has her own romance.
THE STORY OF JULIA PAGE.
Frontispiece by Allan Gilbert.
How Julia Page, reared in rather unpromising surroundings, lifted
herself through sheer determination to a higher plane of life.
THE HEART OF RACHAEL.
Frontispiece by Charles E. Chambers.
Rachael is called upon to solve many problems, and in working out
these, there is shown the beauty and strength of soul of one of
fiction's most appealing characters.
Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction
GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
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
romance finds a modern parallel. The story centers round the coming of
love to the young people on the staff of a newspaper--and it is one of
the prettiest, sweetest and quaintest of old-fashioned love stories.
MASTER OF THE VINEYARD.
A pathetic love story of a young girl, Rosemary. The teacher of the
country school, who is also master of the vineyard, comes to know her
through her desire for books. She is happy in his love till another
woman comes into his life. But happiness and emancipation from her
many trials come to Rosemary at last. The book has a touch of humor
and pathos that will appeal to every reader.
OLD ROSE AND SILVER.
A love story,--sentimental and humorous,--with the plot subordinate to
the character delineation of its quaint people and to the exquisite
descriptions 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 an
old-fashioned romance in the background. A tiny dog plays an important
role in serving as a foil for the heroine's talking ingeniousness.
There is poetry, as well as tenderness and charm, in this tale of a
weaver of dreams.
A SPINNER IN THE SUN.
An old-fashioned love story, of a veiled lady who lives in solitude
and whose features her neighbors have never seen. There is a mystery
at the heart 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
virtuoso consents to take for his pupil a handsome youth who proves to
have an aptitude for technique, but not the soul of an artist. The
youth cannot express the love, the passion and the tragedies of life
as can the master. But a girl comes into his life, and through his
passionate love for her, he learns the lessons that life has to
give--and his soul awakes.
GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
THE NOVELS OF CLARA LOUISE BURNHAM
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
JEWEL: A Chapter in Her Life.
Illustrated by Maude and Genevieve Cowles.
A story breathing the doctrine of love and patience as exemplified in
the life of a child. Jewel will never grow old because of the
immortality of her love.
JEWEL'S STORY BOOK. Illustrated by Albert Schmitt.
A sequel to "Jewel," in which the same characteristics of love and
cheerfulness touch and uplift the reader.
THE INNER FLAME. Frontispiece in color.
A young mining engineer, whose chief ambition is to become an artist,
but who has no friends with whom to realize his hopes, has a way
opened to him to try his powers, and, of course, he is successful.
THE RIGHT PRINCESS.
At a fashionable Long Island resort, a stately English woman employs a
forcible New England housekeeper to serve in her interesting home.
Many humorous situations result. A delightful love affair runs through
it all.
THE OPENED SHUTTERS.
Illustrated with Scenes from the Photo Play.
A beautiful woman, at discord with life, is brought to realize, by her
new friends, that she may open the shutters of her soul to the blessed
sunlight of joy by casting aside self love.
THE RIGHT TRACK.
Frontispiece in color by Greene Blumenschien.
A story of a young girl who marries for money so that she can enjoy
things intellectual. Neglect of her husband and of her two step
children makes an unhappy home till a friend brings a new philosophy
of happiness into the household.
CLEVER BETSY. Illustrated by Rose O'Neill.
The "Clever Betsy" was a boat--named for the unyielding spinster whom
the captain hoped to marry. Through the two Betsy's a delightful group
of people are introduced.
Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction
GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
BOOTH TARKINGTON'S NOVELS
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
SEVENTEEN. Illustrated by Arthur William Brown.
No one but the creator of Penrod could have portrayed the immortal
young people of this story. Its humor is irresistible and reminiscent
of the time when the reader was Seventeen.
PENROD. Illustrated by Gordon Grant.
This is a picture of a boy's heart, full of the lovable, humorous,
tragic things which are locked secrets to most older folks. It is a
finished, exquisite work.
PENROD AND SAM. Illustrated by Worth Brehm.
Like "Penrod" and "Seventeen," this book contains some remarkable
phases of real boyhood and some of the best stories of juvenile
prankishness that have ever been written.
THE TURMOIL. Illustrated by C. E. Chambers.
Bibbs Sheridan is a dreamy, imaginative youth, who revolts against his
father's plans for him to be a servitor of big business. The love of a
fine girl turns Bibb's life from failure to success.
THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA. Frontispiece.
A story of love and politics,--more especially a picture of a country
editor's life in Indiana, but the charm of the book lies in the love
interest.
THE FLIRT. Illustrated by Clarence F. Underwood.
The "Flirt," the younger of two sisters, breaks one girl's engagement,
drives one man to suicide, causes the murder of another, leads another
to lose his fortune, and in the end marries a stupid and unpromising
suitor, leaving the really worthy one to marry her sister.
Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction
GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
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 from boyhood, comes out boldly against John Barleycorn.
It is a string of exciting adventures, yet it forcefully conveys an
unforgettable idea and makes 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
ex-prize 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 of the 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
of his fortune before the gold hunters arrived. Bringing his fortunes
to the States he is cheated out of it by a crowd of money kings, and
recovers it only at the muzzle of his gun. He then starts out as a
merciless exploiter on his own account. Finally he takes to drinking
and becomes a picture of degeneration. About this time he falls in
love with his stenographer and wins her heart but not her hand and
then--but read the story!
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 from
England to the South Seas in search of adventure. Tanned like a native
and as lithe as a tiger, he became a real son of the sun. The life
appealed to him and he remained and became very wealthy.
THE CALL OF THE WILD. Illustrations by Philip R. Goodwin and Charles
Livingston Bull. Decorations by Charles E. Hooper.
A book of dog adventures as exciting as any man's exploits could be.
Here is excitement to stir the blood and here is picturesque color to
transport 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
the power of the brutal captain of a sealing schooner. A novel of
adventure warmed by a beautiful love episode that every reader will
hail with delight.
WHITE FANG. Illustrated by Charles Livingston Bull.
"White Fang" is part dog, part wolf and all brute, living in the frozen
north; he gradually comes under the spell of man's companionship, and
surrenders all at the last in a fight with a bull dog. Thereafter he is
man's loving slave.
GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
B. M. BOWER'S NOVELS
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's
list.
CHIP OF THE FLYING U. Wherein the love affairs of Chip and Della
Whitman are charmingly and humorously told.
THE HAPPY FAMILY. A lively and amusing story, dealing with the
adventures of eighteen jovial, big-hearted Montana cowboys.
HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT. Describing a gay party of Easterners who exchange
a cottage at Newport for a Montana ranch-house.
THE RANGE DWELLERS. Spirited action, a range feud between two
families, and a Romeo and Juliet courtship make this a bright, jolly
story.
THE LURE OF THE DIM TRAILS. A vivid portrayal of the experience of an
Eastern author among the cowboys.
THE LONESOME TRAIL. A little branch of sage brush and the recollection
of a pair of large brown eyes upset "Weary" Davidson's plans.
THE LONG SHADOW. A vigorous Western story, sparkling with the free
outdoor life of a mountain ranch. It is a fine love story.
GOOD INDIAN. A stirring romance of life on an Idaho ranch.
FLYING U RANCH. Another delightful story about Chip and his pals.
THE FLYING U'S LAST STAND. An amusing account of Chip and the other
boys opposing a party of school teachers.
THE UPHILL CLIMB. A story of a mountain ranch and of a man's hard
fight on the uphill road to manliness.
THE PHANTOM HERD. The title of a moving-picture staged in New Mexico
by the "Flying U" boys.
THE HERITAGE OF THE SIOUX. The "Flying U" boys stage a fake bank
robbery for film purposes which precedes a real one for lust of gold.
THE GRINGOS. A story of love and adventure on a ranch in California.
STARR OF THE DESERT. A New Mexico ranch story of mystery and
adventure.
THE LOOKOUT MAN. A Northern California story full of action,
excitement and love.
GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
End of Project Gutenberg's The Peace of Roaring River, by George van Schaick