Genre Short Story. Page - 5

sary labours to the officers of the ship, and the soldiers,who had made uncommon exertions. Roused by a sense of theirdanger, the same seamen, at this moment, in frantic exclamations,demanded of heaven and their fellow-sufferers that succour whichtheir own efforts, timely made, might possibly have procured.'The ship continued to beat on the rocks; and soon bilging, fellwith her broadside towards the shore. When she struck, a number ofthe men climbed up the ensign-staff, under an apprehension of

t of the French nobility whose family had ridden the tumbrils of the Revolution, tended her fragile body and spirit with the same loving care given rare, brief-blooming flowers. You may imagine from this his attitude concerning marriage. He lived in terror of the vulgar, heavy-handed man who would one day win my mother's heart, and at last, this persistent dread killed him. His concern was unnecessary, however, for my mother chose a suitor who was as free of mundane brutality as a husband could

He was waiting for her, he had been waiting an hour and a half in a dusty suburban lane, with a row of big elms on one side and some eligible building sites on the other--and far away to the south-west the twinkling yellow lights of the Crystal Palace. It was not quite like a country lane, for it had a pavement and lamp-posts, but it was not a bad place for a meeting all the same: and farther up, towards the cemetery, it was really quite rural, and almost pretty, especially in twilight. But

rd, moustache, and eyebrows were dyed black (washable dye, of course). My skin was a good tawny brown, and I had on a check suit that was a chess-knut in every sense of the word; also a crush hat, and spats on my boots. I was the American conception of a certain type of English tourist. God help the type. They would need it.I called in at a book-shop, and bought a 'Frisco guide, one of those pretty little flip-flap things that ripple out a fathom long, all pictures of Telegraph Hill and the

Joel gently shoved his gun barrels across the log, cuddling the stock to his shoulder and slipping two fingers caressingly back and forth upon the triggers. Jake held the narrow dugout steady by a grip upon a fox-grape tendril.A little wait and then the finish came! Fishhead emerged from the cabin door and came down the narrow footpath to the water and out upon the water on his log. He was barefooted and bareheaded, his cotton shirt open down the front to show his yellow neck and breast, his

d after exchanging his rough coat forsome more suitable attire (in which however he loses nothing of theout-and-outer), gets into the coach and grumbles all the way at hisown good nature: his bitter reflections aggravated by therecollection, that Tom Smith has taken the chair at a littleimpromptu dinner at a fighting man's, and that a set-to was to takeplace on a dining-table, between the fighting man and his brother-in-law, which is probably 'coming off' at that very instant.As the out-and-out

enough of barbarism in it to make it exceedingly warm and strong. This love affair moved on happily for many months, until one day the king happened to discover its existence. He did not hesitate nor waver in regard to his duty in the premises. The youth was immediately cast into prison, and a day was appointed for his trial in the king's arena. This, of course, was an especially important occasion, and his majesty, as well as all the people, was greatly interested in the workings and

seem to be busy," Houston said."Not so busy," the gambler replied. "Have a chair and try your luck. My name's Gadley, commonly known as 'Silky' because once I owned a silk shirt. That wasn't in Vista. That was in a town where men risked a dollar now and then." "Deal a little two-handed stud," Houston said "I'm bringing forth some money. My name's Houston, just got in from Texas. Got a little business to 'tend to here." They began playing stud in a

up, like you said."Buck laughed shortly. "I'll be waiting. I don't like that lanky bastard. I reckon I got some scores to settle with him." He looked at me, and his face twisted into what he thought was a tough snarl. Funny--you could see he really wasn't tough down inside. There wasn't any hard core of confidence and strength. His toughness was in his holster, and all the rest of him was acting to match up to it. "You know," he said, "I don't like you either,