icon 0
icon TOP UP
rightIcon
icon Reading History
rightIcon
icon Log out
rightIcon
icon Get the APP
rightIcon
Man Size

Man Size

icon

Chapter 1 IN THE DANGER ZONE

Word Count: 1163    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

a crotch of the plains which rolled to the horizon edge like waves of a great land sea. Its reflected fires were in

little knitted frown of worry on her forehead, for imagination could fill in details of what the coulée held: the white canvas tops of prairie schooners, some spans of

se whiskey-traders were ruining her people. More than threescore Blackfeet braves had been killed within the year in drunken brawls among themselves. The plains Indians wo

came close to her. Fergus McRae still carried the gash from a knife thrust earned in a drunken brawl. It was likely that to-morrow he would cut the tra

definite purpose except to spy the lay-out, to make sure that her fears were justified. But through the hinterland of her conscious

moving through the bunch grass with the wary care sh

rrup leather with two stones. The wagons had been left near the entrance of the valley pocket some sixty or seventy yards from the fire.

nefarious business. They paid no duty to the British Government. She had heard her father say so. Contrary to law, they brought in their vile stuff and sold it both to breeds and tribesmen. They had no regard whatever for the

. These men would fire to kill on any skulker near the camp. They would take no needless hazard of being surprised by a band of stray Indians. But the night w

ing at the stirrup leather got to his feet, indeed, carelessly, rifle in hand, and stared into the gloom; but presently he turned on his heel and saunte

t fell away to the mouth of the coulée. She crept up

time toward the camp-fire. So far she had quite escaped notice. The

ke, the other on the axle. The axe-head swung in a half-circle. There was a crash of wood, a swift jet of spout

e leaped to his feet

t?" he dema

d. The man snatched up a rifle and fired. A second

s, shouts, the barking of the dog, the slap of runnin

arings. The first of the white-topped schooners was untouched. The one nearest the entrance to th

rested. The girl flying in a pan

to stampede and run off the saddle horses. Even a serious attempt to wipe out the party by a stray band of Blackfeet or Crees was an undertaking

ulation, but plunged into

Claim Your Bonus at the APP

Open