The Song of the Wolf

Frank Mayer

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• Publié par: soim
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 31
• Langue: English

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The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Song of the Wolf, by Frank Mayer This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: The Song of the Wolf Author: Frank Mayer Release Date: April 9, 2010 [eBook #31930] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 ***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SONG OF THE WOLF*** E-text prepared by David Edwards, Mary Meehan, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries (http://www.archive.org/details/americana) Note: Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive/American Libraries. See http://www.archive.org/details/songofthewolf00mayerich THE SONG OF THE WOLF BY FRANK MAYER Copyright, 1910, by MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY NEW YORK Published, April, 1910 CONTENTS CHAPTER I. A RIFT IN THE LUTE CHAPTER II. THE MARK OF THE BEAST CHAPTER III. AS IT WAS IN THE BEGINNING CHAPTER IV. IN THE MIDST OF ALARUMS CHAPTER V. "HER HEART WON'T BE BROKE NONE" CHAPTER VI. THE MAN AND THE WOMAN CHAPTER VII. BELSHAZZAR CHAPTER VIII. THE PASSING OF A CLOUD CHAPTER IX. IN PART PAYMENT CHAPTER X. THAT WHICH IS CÆSAR'S CHAPTER XI. FRENZIED FINANCE CHAPTER XII. NOT STRICTLY ACCORDING TO PROGRAM CHAPTER XIII. A LAUGH IN THE NIGHT CHAPTER XIV. A FAIR FIELD AND NO FAVORS CHAPTER XV. GREAT EXPECTATIONS CHAPTER XVI. THE SONG OF THE WOLF CHAPTER XVII. THE FROWNING GODDESS SMILES CHAPTER XVIII. IN THE HOUSE OF POTIPHAR CHAPTER XIX. MUTUAL ASSISTANCE CHAPTER XX. A PASSAGE AT ARMS CHAPTER XXI. THE WIDENING CHASM CHAPTER XXII. THE RENUNCIATION CHAPTER XXIII. BELSHAZZAR COMES BACK TO STAY "When a man gets through playin' thu goat he gin'rally feels some obligated to act the sheep foh a spell, so's to even up thu deal." RED MCVEY THE SONG OF THE WOLF CHAPTER I A RIFT IN THE LUTE Everything else was in harmony. If the sky turquoise was a shade or two paler than the prescribed robin'segg, it blended perfectly with the unpronounced greens of the sprouting grass and the uncertain olive of the budding sagebrush. On the crest of the distant divide a silver-gray wreath of aspens lay against the tawny cheek of the mountain as daintily as an otter-fur collarette on the neck of a girl. Even the darker girdle of spruce and pine, lower down, lost its harsh individuality, merging insensibly into the faded umbers, sepias, lavenders and tans of the graduating background where the rocks and buckbrush fell away to the open slopes beneath. On the vega below, the alkaline scars, as yet uncalcined by the sun's fires into glaring chalkiness, gave no offense in their moist neutrality, and the coyote slinking dejectedly among the deserted prairie-dog mounds was, in his ash-colored surtout, as inconspicuous as the long wan shadows cast by the weak spring sun. In the hollow of the foothill's arm lay a little lake, fed by a brook born in heights so remote that its purl was deduced rather than heard, and over all lay the soft glow of the fading twilight, accentuated by the subtle incense of the young year's breath. It was a symphony of tender half-tone in minor key, one of these mystical, ethereal, God-painted Corots of the great West whose enchantment outlives life itself, calling with an insistence which will not be denied until the souls of its hearing yearn for its bondage again and return to the rack of the cow-range, the torments of the desert, the chain of the eternal hills. The only discord was in the heart and speech of the man who swore savagely at his over-ridden horse stumbling among the loose bowlders of the half-effaced trail. The anathema and succeeding spur thrust were alike cruel and undeserved, for the faithful beast had borne his rider bravely throughout a long and weary day's work, and despite the favorable temperature of the mild spring day, his chest was foam-flecked and sweat-crusted and his gaunt flanks heaved pitiably. And yet there was nothing particularly vicious in the face of the cowpuncher glaring so disconsolately over the tender vista. It was a bit thin-lipped and there was more than a suggestion of merciless hardness in the deep lines about the mouth, but the blue-gray eyes were calm and steady and there was a sturdy independence in the out-thrust of his prominent chin and the bird-like poise of his head which, bespoke either a clear conscience or the lethal indifference of an indomitable will. Bull-throated, yet withal of a lean, rangy, muscular conformation, his every movement betokened virility and force; an experienced frontiersman would have glanced approvingly at his well-ordered equipment, the wicked blue Colts in its Mexican holster sagging at just the proper angle for quick work on a cartridge belt filled to the last becket, the pliable reata hanging in unkinked coils with chafed honda evincing long usage. There was a significant absence of fringe and ornament about this man, yet the excellence of materials was noticeable, from the selected buckskin of his gauntlets to the tempered steel of his rowels and expensive Stetson hat; and women usually looked twice at the broad-chested, flat-thighed, bronze-faced fellow who returned their stares with disconcerting assurance. It was his habit to look all things squarely in the face, and before his level gaze women blushed unaccountably and men smiled, squirmed or turned quietly away as the circumstances warranted. Little children alone took liberties with him, and for these the bold eyes would soften wondrously and a rare gentleness creep into his usually crisp and terse speech. The panorama stretched out before him as he topped the ridge, halting his horse instinctively to reconnoitre the ground, was one that would ordinarily have appealed to him, for despite his prosaic avocation, his was the true artistic temperament; but to-day he looked with weary unappreciation bordering upon disgust, and mumbled profanely under his heavy mustache. The coyote sneaking stealthily among the short sagebrush caught his eye and he laughed mirthlessly. "Poor devil! Rustling like the rest of us to keep his miserable body and soul together—and making a damn poor job of it. It would be a mercy—" and he half drew the heavy revolver from its sheath. Just then the wolf sprang fiercely at a clump of grass and a plaintive squeal rose upon the air. Then the coyote trotted out into the open with a rabbit hanging limply from its jaws and made off across the vega in a swinging gallop instead of devouring its prey instantly, as one would have naturally