Still Jim

by Honoré Morrow

  CHAPTER XXVII

  THE THUMB PRINT

  "I have been buffeted by the ages until I dominate the desert. So do the ages buffet one another until they produce a dominating man."

  MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT.

  Uncle Denny was on the platform before Marshall had ceased speaking.

  "Friends, Mr. Marshall has said the thing we had in mind to present tothis meeting. It was to be me share to ask you for a petition. 'Twill bethe pride of Still Jim's life that the request came from a farmer andnot from me. If all here will sign and if every man here will makehimself responsible for the signatures of his neighbors, the thing canbe done in a few days and we will wire the matter to the Secretary ofthe Interior. Friends, I'd rather see the tide turn for Jim than to seeHome Rule in Ireland!"

  The tide had turned. One of those marvelous changes of sentiment thatsometimes sweep a community began in the wild applause that greeted thetender little closing of Uncle Denny's speech. When Fleckenstein arrivedan hour late, he found an empty hall. His audience had dispersed toscour the valleys for signatures for Jim.

  Uncle Denny came home to the dam, tired but with the first ray of hopein his heart that he had had for a long time. The petition might notinfluence the authorities and yet the sentiment it raised might defeatFleckenstein at the last. At any rate, it was something to work forthese last hard days of Jim's regime.

  Jim had seen the last farmer and was devoting the final days of his stayon the dam to urging the work forward that he might leave as full arecord behind him as his broken term permitted. Wrapped in his work andhis grief, Jim did not hear of the existence of the petition. Hendersonhad spread word among the workmen of Jim's intended departure. No onecared to speak of the matter to Jim. Something in his stern, sad youngface forbade it. But there was not a man on the job from associateengineer to mule driver who did not throw himself into his work with anabandon of energy that drove the work forward with unbelievablerapidity. All that his men could do to help Jim's record was to be done.

  For three days before the election Henderson scarcely slept. He tried tobe on all three shifts. "I even eat my meals from a nose bag," he toldUncle Denny sadly.

  "And what's a nose bag?" asked Uncle Denny.

  "A nose bag is the thing you tie on a horse for him to get his grubfrom. Also it's the long yellow bag the cook puts the night shift'slunch in. But I'd starve if 'twould keep the Boss on the job. I'd evendrink one of Babe's cocktails."

  Henderson waited for Uncle Denny's "Go ahead with the story," then hebegan sadly:

  "Algernon Dove was Babe's real name. He was an English remittance-manhere in the early days. The Smithsonian folks came down here and wantedto get someone to go out with them to collect desert specimens,rattlers, Gila monsters, hydrophobia skunks and such trash. Babe andAlkali Ike, his running mate, went with them. They took a good outfit,the Smithsonian folks did, and in one wagon they took a barrel ofalcohol and dumped the reptiles into it as fast as they found them. Theygot a good bunch, little by little, snakes and horned toads andhydrophobia skunks. In about two weeks they was ready to come back. Thenthey noticed the bad smell."

  Henderson paused. "What was the matter?" asked Uncle Denny.

  "Babe and Ike had been drinking the alcohol, day by day," he answered inhis musical voice. "The barrel just did 'em two weeks. Just because Italk foolish talk, Mr. Dennis, ain't a sign that I don't feel bad. Idon't want the Boss to speak to me or I'll cry."

  The day of the election was a long one for Jim. He packed his trunk andhis personal papers and Mrs. Flynn began to wrap the legs of the chairsin newspapers. Her tears threatened to reduce each wrapping to pulpbefore she completed it. In the afternoon, Jim started for a last tourof the dam. He covered the work slowly, looking his last at the detailsover which he had toiled and dreamed so long. He walked slowly up fromthe lower town. The men who passed him glanced away as if they would notintrude on his trouble.

  The work on the dam was going forward as though life and death dependedon the amount accomplished by this particular shift. Jim wasinexpressibly touched by this display of the men's good will, but hecould think of no way to show his feeling.

  Just at sunset he climbed the Elephant's back. But he was not to havethis last call alone. Old Suma-theek was sitting on the edge of thecrater, his fine face turned hawklike toward the distance. Jim nodded tohis friend, then sat down in his favorite spot where, far across thecanyon, he could see the flag, rippling before the office.

  After a time, the old Indian came over to sit beside him. He followedJim's gaze and said softly:

  "That flag it heap pretty but wherever Injun see it he see sorrow anddeath for Injun."

  Jim answered slowly: "Perhaps we're being paid for what we've done toyou, Suma-theek. The white tribe that made the flag is going, just as wehave made you go. The flag will always look the same, but the dream itwas made to tell will go."

  "Who sabez the way of the Great Spirit? He make you go. He make Injungo. He make nigger and Chinamans stay. Perhaps they right, you and Injunwrong. Who sabez?"

  "I'd like to have finished my dam," Jim muttered. "Somehow we areinadequate. I woke up too late." And suddenly a deeper significance cameto him of Pen's verse--

  "Too late for love, too late for joy; Too late! Too late! You loitered on the road too long, You trifled at the gate----"

  "When you old like Suma-theek," said the Indian, "you sabez then nothingmatter except man make his tribe live. Have children or die! That theGreat Spirit's law for tribes."

  Jim said no more. The daily miracle of the sunset was taking place. Anearly snow had capped the far mountain peaks and these now flashed anunearthly silver radiance against the crimson heavens. Old Jezebelwandered remotely, a black scratch across a desert of blood red.Distance indefinable, beauty indescribable, once more these quickenedJim's pulse. Almost, almost he seemed to catch the key to the MasterDream and then--the scarlet glow changed to purple, and night began itsmarch across the sands.

  Jim made his way down the trail and up to his house. Waiting at his doorwere three of his workmen. They were young fellows, fresh shaved andwearing white collars. Jim invited them in and they followed awkwardly.They took the cigars he offered and then shifted uneasily while Jimstood on the hearth rug regarding them with his wistful smile. He wasnot so very many years older than they.

  "Boss," finally began one of the men, "us fellows heard a few days agothat you were going to leave. We wanted to do something to show we likedyou and what a--d--doggone shame it is you're going and--and we didn'thave time to buy anything, but we made up a purse. Every rough-neck onthe job contributes, Boss; they wanted to. Here's about two hundreddollars. We'd like to have you buy something you can remember us by."

  The spokesman stopped, perspiring and breathless. His two companionscame forward and one of them laid on the table a cigar box which, whenopened, showed a pile of bills and coins. Jim's face worked.

  "Boys," said Jim huskily, "boys--I'm no speaker! What can I say to youexcept that this kindness takes away some of the sting of going. I'llbuy something I can take with me wherever I go."

  "Don't try to say nothing, Boss," said the spokesman. "I know what itis. I laid awake all night fixing up what I just said."

  "It was a darned good speech," replied Jim. "Don't forget me, boys. Whenyou finish the dam remember it was my pipe dream to have finished itwith you."

  The three shook hands with Jim and made for the door. Jim stood staringat the money, smiling but with wet eyes, when Bill Evans' automobileexploded up to the house. Uncle Denny was sitting in the tonneau withtwo other men. Jim walked slowly out to the road. One of the men was theSecretary of the Interior; the other, a slender, keen-faced young man,was his private secretary. Jim's face was white in the dusk.

  "Well, young man," said the Secretary, "you have been having somestrenuous times since the Hearing. And for a man reputed to beunpopular, you have some good friends."<
br />
  Bill Evans, almost bursting with importance, undid the binding wire thatfastened the door of the tonneau and the Secretary arose.

  "If you had telegraphed me, Mr. Secretary," Jim began with a reproachfulglance at Uncle Denny.

  "On me soul, Jimmy," said Uncle Denny, "I didn't know. I went over withBill to meet someone else and----"

  The Secretary laughed as he followed Jim. As Jim held open the door hesaid: "I didn't want to wire you, Mr. Manning. I wanted to find you onthe ground, steeped in your iniquities. You have nice quarters," headded, sitting down comfortably before the grate fire. Then his eye fellon the cigar box full of money. "Ah, is that a part of the loot I hearyou've been getting?"

  Jim looked at the Secretary uncertainly. He was a large man with thekeen blue eyes and the firm mouth in a smooth-shaven face that Jimremembered was like a fine set mask. Jim got nothing from staring intohis distinguished guest's quiet eyes.

  "This is a gift from the workmen on the dam," said Jim. "I am to buysomething to remember them by. There are about two hundred dollarsthere, they tell me."

  The Secretary nodded. "I am glad to hear that the men like you, Mr.Manning. What have you--Come in, madam!" The Secretary nodded to Mrs.Flynn, who had paused in the door with a tray load of dishes. She pausedand looked uncertainly at Jim.

  "Supper for four tonight, Mrs. Flynn," said Jim. "We have the Secretaryof the Interior with us."

  "My heavens!" gasped Mrs. Flynn. "God knows I never meant to intrude."

  The Secretary laughed so richly and so heartily that all but Mrs. Flynnjoined him. She gave the group of men a look of utter scorn, and said:

  "I suppose if the Lord and the twelve disciples had dropped inunexpected, you men would think it funny and me with me legs all wrappedup in newspapers!" Then she bolted for the kitchen.

  The Secretary wiped his eyes. "I hope I haven't seriously upset yourhousehold," he said to Jim.

  Jim shook his head. "Your coming will be one of the great events of herlife. Supper will be late but it will be well worth eating."

  "Then," said the Secretary, "let us continue our private hearing. Whathave you been trying to do here on the dam, Mr. Manning?"

  Jim stood on the hearth rug and glanced at each of the three men seatedbefore him, his gaze finally resting on the Secretary's face.

  "At first," he said, "I merely wanted to build the dam. I called it theThumb-print that I would leave on the map, that should be emblematic ofthe old trail-making Puritan. But by a persistent indifference to theirprejudices and to their personal wishes and welfare, I antagonized allthe farmers on the Project."

  Jim paused, hesitated and then went on. "The woman whom I shall one daymarry pointed out to me that my attitude here was typical of the generalattitude of the so-called Old Stock here in America. She said that I waswilling to build the dam but unwilling to sacrifice time or effort toadministering it, to showing the farmer how to handle the fine,essentially democratic, idea that was in the Reclamation idea. She saidthat we had formed the government in America and left it to others toadminister and that of this we were dying."

  Jim stopped and the Secretary said, "She seems intelligent, this youngwoman."

  Jim's smile was flashing and tender as he said, "She is!" Then he wenton, "You wrote me that the human element was the important matter hereon the dam. This--friend--of----" Jim hesitated for a name for Pen.

  "--of your heart," suggested the Secretary.

  "Thank you," replied Jim gravely, "--of my heart said that I was doingonly half a man's part and that that was what was losing me my job. So Ihave been trying to enlarge my Thumb-print. I want to leave it not onlyin concrete but in the idea that the Project shall embody the rebirth ofthe old New England ideal of equality not in freedom alone, but inresponsibility. I hoped I might make every individual here feelresponsible for the building of the dam, for the payment of the debt,and for the development of the Project for the best good of every humanbeing on it."

  Jim stopped, and the Secretary said, "Well?"

  Again Jim's wistful smile. "I woke too late to get my idea across. Mysuccessor comes tomorrow."

  The Secretary shook his head. "I had no idea you were to leave so soon,though I will admit that after I read of your interview with Freet Irather lost interest in your doings. You know, I suppose, that Freet wasasked for his resignation at the same time you were? Last week, however,just before we started on a tour of the Projects, a young lady called onme. She was very good looking and my secretary is not ah--impervious--toexternals, so he allowed her quite a long interview with me."

  The Secretary's eyes twinkled and young Allen laughed. "You see, thatthe Secretary took note of her personal appearance himself!"

  Jim's face was flushed and amazed. The Secretary went on: "This younglady told me the details of the Freet visit and a good many otherdetails that I'll not take time to mention. She was so clear and cool,yet so in earnest that I decided that I would leave my party at Cabilloand come on up for a talk with you, incognito, as it were, before theygot here. To cap the climax, at Chicago I had a most remarkable telegramfrom a man named Gluck. I knew that a German engineer was looking overour Projects."

  The Secretary smiled at the helpless expression on Jim's face. "Gluck,in about a thousand words, for which I hope his government will pay,told me that I was an enfeebled idiot or what amounted to that to let anengineering treasure like you leave the dam. I liked you, Mr. Manning,when I saw you at Washington. I thought, then, though, that you were onthe wrong track and I hoped you could be lured onto the right one. Iadmit that I was much disappointed with your answer to my first letterand delighted with your second. I might have known that a woman had hadher hand in so radical a change!" The Secretary's smile was very humanas he said this.

  "I don't know that I agree with you in your feeling of sadness about thegoing of the Old Stock. I am an enthusiast over the Melting Pot ideamyself. But whatever the motive power within you, I heartily endorseyour ideals for the Projects. But I am still not convinced that you arethe man for your job, in spite of your engineering ability. Engineeringability is not rare. A great many engineers could build a dam. But a manto do the work you have outlined must have several rare qualities andnot the least among these is the capacity for making many friendseasily, of getting his ideas to the other man."

  Jim's jaw set a little, but he answered frankly, "I know it, Mr.Secretary, and that is just what I lack."

  This was too much for Uncle Denny. "Mr. Secretary, those that know Jimare bound to him by ribs of steel. They----"

  "Uncle Denny! Uncle Denny!" interrupted Jim, sadly, "even your faithfullove cannot make a popular man of me! You must not try to influence theSecretary by your personal prejudice!"

  Uncle Denny, with obvious effort, closed his lips, then opened them tosay, "Still! Still! You break me old heart!"

  The Secretary looked from the handsome old Irishman to the tall youngengineer, whose face was too sad for his years and something a littlemisty softened the Secretary's keen blue eyes.

  "You agree with me, Mr. Manning," he said gently, "that the capacity youseem to lack is essential for so heavy a task as you have outlined. Itis a great pity to lose you to the Service, yet I cannot see how you canbring the Project to its best. I am considering how it will be possibleto find men who have your engineering ability, your idealism, and thislast rare, marvelous capacity for popularity."

  Jim flushed under his tan. For the first time he spoke tensely. "Mr.Secretary, it's crucifying me to think I've fallen down on this."

  "Don't let it break you," said the Secretary, looking at Jim with eyesthat had looked long and understandingly on human nature. "Make up yourmind to turn your forces into other channels. I want you to understandmy position, Mr. Manning. Personally, I would do anything for you, for Ilike you. I hope always to count you as a friend. But as Secretary ofthe Interior, I must be a man of iron, always looking ahead to thefuture of our country. I dare not let myself show partiality here, lestour childre
n's children suffer from my weakness."

  Jim answered steadily, "Do you suppose I would hold my job as a favor,Mr. Secretary?"

  "I know you wouldn't," replied the Secretary. "That is why I took thetrouble to come to you personally. I told you that I was proud to feelmyself your friend. And if you have lost, you have lost as a man mustprefer to lose, Mr. Manning, in full flight, with the heat of battlethick upon you and not dragging out your days in a slow paralysis offutile endeavor."

  "I thank you, Mr. Secretary," said Jim huskily.

  "Can I put supper on now, Mr. Dennis?" asked Mrs. Flynn, in a stagewhisper.

  "You may," said the Secretary emphatically. "I don't like to seemimpatient, Mrs. Flynn, but I'm famished."

  Mrs. Flynn beamed, though eyes and nose were red from weeping. "I'llhave it on in three minutes, your honor. Just hold your hand on yourstomach, that always helps me, your honor. Boss," in another stagewhisper, "I laid a clean shirt on your bed for you and you had betterask his honor if he don't want to wash up."

  The Secretary was charmed. He rose with alacrity. "Mrs. Flynn, if youever leave Mr. Manning, come straight to me. You are a woman after myown heart."

  Mrs. Flynn curtseyed with the sugar bowl in her hand. "I thank you, yourhonor, but if God lets me live to spare my life, I'll never leave theBig Boss. He's my family! I'd rather rub my hand over that silky brownhead of his than over a king's. God knows when I'll see him next,though----" and Mrs. Flynn's face worked and she dashed from the room.

  After the wonderful supper which Mrs. Flynn at last produced, Jimexerted himself, with Uncle Denny's help, to entertain the Secretary.Young Mr. Allen went to call on the cement engineer, who was an oldfriend. It was not difficult to amuse the Secretary. He was asinterested in details of the life on the Project as a boy of fifteen.Uncle Denny sent him into peals of laughter with an Irish version ofHenderson's stories, and Jim's story of Iron Skull moved him deeply.

  It was drawing toward nine o'clock when once more Bill Evans' rattle ofgasolene artillery sounded before the door. A familiar voice called,

  "Good-night, Bill!" and Penelope came into the room.

  The men jumped to their feet and Uncle Denny hurried to take her bag.Jim did not seem able to speak. Pen shook hands with the Secretary.

  "You are here, Mr. Secretary," she said. "I'm so glad!"

  "So am I," said the Secretary, smiling appreciatively at Pen. In hertraveling suit of brown, with her shining hair and her great eyesbrilliant while her color came and went, Pen was very beautiful. Sheturned from the Secretary to Jim and shook hands with him, withdeepening flush.

  "Hello, Still!" she said.

  "Hello, Penelope!" replied Jim.

  "Pen!" cried Uncle Denny breathlessly. "What's the news? As I promised,I've not been near the telephone, nor have I said a word here, thoughit's most suffocated me."

  "Fleckenstein is defeated," said Pen.

  "Oh, thank God for that!" cried Jim.

  "How did it happen?" asked the Secretary.

  Uncle Denny began to walk the floor. Pen answered. "A week ago, Mr.Secretary, a farmer named Marshall at a Fleckenstein meeting suggestedthat a petition be sent you to keep Mr. Manning here."

  Uncle Denny interrupted. "Mrs. Saradokis here already had telegraphed usto do that same thing, Mr. Secretary, but we were glad to have thefarmers get the same idea."

  "That isn't important, Uncle Denny," said Pen. "Marshall himself wrotethe petition. The farmers' wives caught the idea as eagerly as theirhusbands and you will find in many cases the signatures of wholefamilies. Of course no man was going to petition for Mr. Manning, andthen vote for Fleckenstein. So he was defeated. Here is the petition,Mr. Secretary."

  Pen drew from her suitcase a fold of legal cap papers which she openedand passed to the Secretary. Her voice vibrated as she said: "It issigned by nearly every farmer on the Project, Mr. Secretary. Even theMexicans wanted Jim to stay."

  The Secretary put on his glasses and unfolded the numerous sheets. Helooked them through very deliberately, then without a word, passed themto Jim.

  The petition was a short one: "We the undersigned residents of theCabillo Project petition that James Manning be retained as engineer incharge of the Project. We ask this because we like him and trust himand believe he will do more than any other man could do for the farmers'good. Signed----"

  There was no sound in the room save the crackling of the papers as Jim'strembling fingers turned them. He was white to the lips. The Secretarylooked from Jim to Pen, who was standing with close-clasped fingers, herdeep eyes shining as she watched Jim. From Pen he looked at Uncle Denny,who was walking round and round the dining room table as though on awager. Then the Secretary looked back at Jim.

  "This petition pleases me greatly, Mr. Manning, and it will please theDirector. He has grieved very much over the seeming necessity of lettingyou go. Of course this petition disproves all our statements about yourcapacity for making friends and for making your friends get your ideas."The Secretary chuckled. "Mrs. Flynn can remove the newspapers from allher legs tomorrow!"

  Jim could not speak. He looked from face to face and his lips moved, butonly his wistful smile came forth.

  "Mr. Dennis," said the Secretary, "supposing you and I have a quietsmoke here while the Project engineer allows this young lady to take himout and explain to him how she came here."

  "Mr. Secretary, you must have a drop of Irish blood in you!" cried UncleDenny.

  He pushed Pen and Jim toward the door. And Jim took Pen's hand and wentout into the night.

  They walked silently under the stars to the edge of the canyon and stoodthere looking across at the black outline of the Elephant.

  "I went down to see the Secretary in Washington," said Pen, "and he wasvery kind, but I couldn't move him from his decision about yourdismissal. Then when I wired Oscar about the petition, I decided that Iwas going to be in at the finish and present it to the Secretary myself.We came up from Cabillo on the same train. I made Bill drop me at theHendersons' because I wanted to surprise you. Good old Bill! He wentdown to Cabillo and brought the petition up to me."

  Jim held Pen's hand close in his own. "I can't seem to understand itall," he said. "I don't deserve it. Think of the farmers doing this!Aren't they a fine lot of fellows, though! Gee, Penny, there is going tobe some great team work on this Project from now on! The water powertrust won't be able to get in here with a hydraulic ram! What can theydo with a prosperous and responsible group of farmers like these!"

  "Jim," cried Penelope, "there is no limit to what I want you to do! Thisis just the beginning. After you have finished here, you must go toother Projects and after that, you must go to Congress and it will bewar to the knife all the time. It's a wonderful future you are going tohave, Still Jim."

  Jim laughed happily. "And where will you be all this time, Penny? Iunderstand that you are quite, quite through with marriage, and it willbe very improper for you to keep on taking such an active interest in abachelor's affairs. And yet this bachelor just can't go on without you!"

  Pen answered evasively. "That's open to discussion. Jimmy, some day, youwill buy back the old house at Exham."

  "It would never be the same, with dad gone," said Jim.

  "Even if your father were alive, Jimmy, it couldn't be the same,"answered Pen. "It's just that the thought of the old house will alwaysrenew your old instincts, Still. You can't return Exham's old sweet daysto it. But Exham has done its work, I believe, out here on thisProject."

  Pen's smile was very sweet in the starlight. Jim put both his hands onher shoulders.

  "Do you love me, dear?" he asked.

  Pen looked up into his eyes long and earnestly.

  "I always have, Still Jim," she said.

  "Do you want to know how I love you? Oh, sweetheart, I have so little tooffer you!" he went on, brokenly, without waiting for Pen's answer,"except abiding love and passionate love and adoring love! And you areso very beautiful, Penelope. I've hungered for you for a long,
longtime, dear. Bitter, bitter nights and days up on the Makon and hopelessnights and days here on the Cabillo." His hands tightened on hershoulders. "Did you come back to me, sweetheart?"

  "Still," whispered Pen, "I missed you so! I had to come back."

  Then Jim drew Pen to him and folded her close in his strong arms andlaid his lips to hers in a long kiss.

  And the flag fluttered lightly behind them and the desert wind whisperedabove their heads:

  "O yahee! O yahai! Sweet as arrow weed in spring!"

  * * * * *

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  ~Cricket, The.~ By Marjorie Benton Cooke.

  ~Crimson Gardenia, The, and Other Tales of Adventure.~ By Rex Beach.

  ~Crimson Tide, The.~ By Robert W. Chambers.

  ~Cross Currents.~ By Author of "Pollyanna."

  ~Cross Pull, The.~ By Hal. G. Evarts.

  ~Cry in the Wilderness, A.~ By Mary E. Waller.

  ~Cry of Youth, A.~ By Cynthia Lombardi.

  ~Cup of Fury, The.~ By Rupert Hughes.

  ~Curious Quest, The.~ By E. Phillips Oppenheim.

  ~Danger and Other Stories.~ By A. Conan Doyle.

  ~Dark Hollow, The.~ By Anna Katharine Green.

  ~Dark Star, The.~ By Robert W. Chambers.

  ~Daughter Pays, The.~ By Mrs. Baillie Reynolds.

  ~Day of Days, The.~ By Louis Joseph Vance.

  ~Depot Master, The.~ By Joseph C. Lincoln.

  ~Destroying Angel, The.~ By Louis Joseph Vance.

  ~Devil's Own, The.~ By Randall Parrish.

  ~Devil's Paw, The.~ By E. Phillips Oppenheim.

  ~Disturbing Charm, The.~ By Berta Ruck.

  ~Door of Dread, The.~ By Arthur Stringer.

  ~Dope.~ By Sax Rohmer.

  ~Double Traitor, The.~ By E. Phillips Oppenheim.

  ~Duds.~ By Henry C. Rowland.

  ~Empty Pockets.~ By Rupert Hughes.

  ~Erskine Dale Pioneer.~ By John Fox, Jr.

  ~Everyman's Land.~ By C. N. & A. M. Williamson.

  ~Extricating Obadiah.~ By Joseph C. Lincoln.

  ~Eyes of the Blind, The.~ By Arthur Somers Roche.

  ~Eyes of the World, The.~ By Harold Bell Wright.

  ~Fairfax and His Pride.~ By Marie Van Vorst.

  ~Felix O'Day.~ By F. Hopkinson Smith.

  ~54-40 or Fight.~ By Emerson Hough.

  ~Fighting Chance, The.~ By Robert W. Chambers.

  ~Fighting Fool, The.~ By Dane Coolidge.

  ~Fighting Shepherdess, The.~ By Caroline Lockhart.

  ~Financier, The.~ By Theodore Dreiser.

  ~Find the Woman.~ By Arthur Somers Roche.

  ~First Sir Percy, The.~ By The Baroness Orczy.

  ~Flame, The.~ By Olive Wadsley.

  ~For Better, for Worse.~ By W. B. Maxwell.

  ~Forbidden Trail
, The.~ By Honore Willsie.

  ~Forfeit, The.~ By Ridgwell Cullum.

  ~Fortieth Door, The.~ By Mary Hastings Bradley.

  ~Four Million, The.~ By O. Henry.

  ~From Now On.~ By Frank L. Packard.

  ~Fur Bringers, The.~ By Hulbert Footner.

  ~Further Adventures of Jimmie Dale.~ By Frank L. Packard

  ~Get Your Man.~ By Ethel and James Dorrance.

  ~Girl in the Mirror, The.~ By Elizabeth Jordan.

  ~Girl of O. K. Valley, The.~ By Robert Watson.

  ~Girl of the Blue Ridge, A.~ By Payne Erskine.

  ~Girl from Keller's, The.~ By Harold Bindloss.

  ~Girl Philippa, The.~ By Robert W. Chambers.

  ~Girls at His Billet, The.~ By Berta Ruck.

  ~Glory Rides the Range.~ By Ethel and James Dorrance.

  ~Gloved Hand, The.~ By Burton E. Stevenson.

  ~God's Country and the Woman.~ By James Oliver Curwood.

  ~God's Good Man.~ By Marie Corelli.

  ~Going Some.~ By Rex Beach.

  ~Gold Girl, The.~ By James B. Hendryx.

  ~Golden Scorpion, The.~ By Sax Rohmer.

  ~Golden Slipper, The.~ By Anna Katharine Green.

  ~Golden Woman, The.~ By Ridgwell Cullum.

  ~Good References.~ By E. J. Rath.

  ~Gorgeous Girl, The.~ By Nalbro Bartley.

  ~Gray Angels, The.~ By Nalbro Bartley.

  ~Great Impersonation, The.~ By E. Phillips Oppenheim.

  ~Greater Love Hath No Man.~ By Frank L. Packard.

  ~Green Eyes of Bast, The.~ By Sax Rohmer.

  ~Greyfriars Bobby.~ By Eleanor Atkinson.

  ~Gun Brand, The.~ By James B. Hendryx.

  ~Hand of Fu-Manchu, The.~ By Sax Rohmer.

  ~Happy House.~ By Baroness Von Hutten.

  ~Harbor Road, The.~ By Sara Ware Bassett.

  ~Havoc.~ By E. Phillips Oppenheim.

  ~Heart of the Desert, The.~ By Honore Willsie.

  ~Heart of the Hills, The.~ By John Fox, Jr.

  ~Heart of the Sunset.~ By Rex Beach.

  ~Heart of Thunder Mountain, The.~ By Edfrid A. Bingham.

  ~Heart of Unaga, The.~ By Ridgwell Cullum.

  ~Hidden Children, The.~ By Robert W. Chambers.

  ~Hidden Trails.~ By William Patterson White.

  ~Highflyers, The.~ By Clarence B. Kelland.

  ~Hillman, The.~ By E. Phillips Oppenheim.

  ~Hills of Refuge, The.~ By Will N. Harben.

  ~His Last Bow.~ By A. Conan Doyle.

  ~His Official Fiancee.~ By Berta Ruck.

  ~Honor of the Big Snows.~ By James Oliver Curwood.

  ~Hopalong Cassidy.~ By Clarence E. Mulford.

  ~Hound from the North, The.~ By Ridgwell Cullum.

  ~House of the Whispering Pines, The.~ By Anna Katharine Green.

  ~Hugh Wynne, Free Quaker.~ By S. Weir Mitchell, M.D.

  ~Humoresque.~ By Fannie Hurst.

  ~I Conquered.~ By Harold Titus.

  ~Illustrious Prince, The.~ By E. Phillips Oppenheim.

  ~In Another Girl's Shoes.~ By Berta Ruck.

  ~Indifference of Juliet, The.~ By Grace S. Richmond.

  ~Inez.~ (Ill. Ed.) By Augusta J. Evans.

  ~Infelice.~ By Augusta Evans Wilson.

  ~Initials Only.~ By Anna Katharine Green.

  ~Inner Law, The.~ By Will N. Harben.

  ~Innocent.~ By Marie Corelli.

  ~In Red and Gold.~ By Samuel Merwin.

  ~Insidious Dr. Fu-Manchu, The.~ By Sax Rohmer.

  ~In the Brooding Wild.~ By Ridgwell Cullum.

  ~Intriguers, The.~ By William Le Queux.

  ~Iron Furrow, The.~ By George C. Shedd.

  ~Iron Trail, The.~ By Rex Beach.

  ~Iron Woman, The.~ By Margaret Deland.

  ~Ishmael.~ (Ill.) By Mrs. Southworth.

  ~Island of Surprise.~ By Cyrus Townsend Brady.

  ~I Spy.~ By Natalie Sumner Lincoln.

  ~It Pays to Smile.~ By Nina Wilcox Putnam.

  ~I've Married Marjorie.~ By Margaret Widdemer.

  ~Jean of the Lazy A.~ By B. M. Bower.

  ~Jeanne of the Marshes.~ By E. Phillips Oppenheim.

  ~Jennie Gerhardt.~ By Theodore Dreiser.

  ~Johnny Nelson.~ By Clarence E. Mulford.

  ~Judgment House, The.~ By Gilbert Parker.

  ~Keeper of the Door, The.~ By Ethel M. Dell.

  ~Keith of the Border.~ By Randall Parrish.

  ~Kent Knowles: Quahaug.~ By Joseph C. Lincoln.

  ~Kingdom of the Blind, The.~ By E. Phillips Oppenheim.

  ~King Spruce.~ By Holman Day.

  ~Knave of Diamonds, The.~ By Ethel M. Dell.

  ~La Chance Mine Mystery, The.~ By S. Carleton.

  ~Lady Doc, The.~ By Caroline Lockhart.

  ~Land-Girl's Love Story, A.~ By Berta Ruck.

  ~Land of Strong Men, The.~ By A. M. Chisholm.

  ~Last Straw, The.~ By Harold Titus.

  ~Last Trail, The.~ By Zane Grey.

  ~Laughing Bill Hyde.~ By Rex Beach.

  ~Laughing Girl, The.~ By Robert W. Chambers.

  ~Law Breakers, The.~ By Ridgwell Cullum.

  ~Law of the Gun, The.~ By Ridgwell Cullum.

  * * * * *

  TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:

  Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully aspossible, including obsolete and variant spellings and otherinconsistencies. Corrections in the text are noted below, withcorrections inside the brackets:

  page 189: space added within word:

  curiosity, the machine left the road and plunged madly across the desert, through cactus thickets and yucca clumps, through draws and oversand[over sand] drifts.

  page 190: typo corrected

  "_Caramba!_" he said. "That was a fine ride! I've been wanting to get a look at that country and a talk with you, Bill, for a month. I fell[feel] well rested."

  page 324: typo corrected

  pack. They can reason, the old fools! Bill Evans' auto shoved this fellow over. The stearing[steering] gear broke."

  page 351: probable typo fixed for sense:

  ain't one of us fit to black his boots. This Project is his life's blood to him. There isn't anything he would[n't] sacrifice to its welfare. And you're throwing him out.

  In the advertisement: accents and typo fixed:

  ~Forbidden Trail, The.~ By Honore[e] Willsie.

  ~Heart of the Desert, The.~ By Honore[e] Willsie.

  ~I Spy.~ By Natalie Sumner Linclon.[Lincoln]