He left the trail sharply, heading directly for his
mistress. The team dashed after him, and the sled poised an instant on a
single runner, then shot Harrington into the snow. Savoy was by like a
flash. Harrington pulled to his feet and watched him skimming across the
river to the Gold Recorder's. He could not help hearing what was said.
"Ah, him do vaire well," Joy Molineau was explaining to the lieutenant.
"Him--what you call--set the pace. Yes, him set the pace vaire well."
AT THE RAINBOW'S END
I
It was for two reasons that Montana Kid discarded his "chaps" and Mexican
spurs, and shook the dust of the Idaho ranges from his feet. In the
first place, the encroachments of a steady, sober, and sternly moral
civilization had destroyed the primeval status of the western cattle
ranges, and refined society turned the cold eye of disfavor upon him and
his ilk. In the second place, in one of its cyclopean moments the race
had arisen and shoved back its frontier several thousand miles. Thus,
with unconscious foresight, did mature society make room for its
adolescent members. True, the new territory was mostly barren; but its
several hundred thousand square miles of frigidity at least gave
breathing space to those who else would have suffocated at home.
Pages:
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200