Lookout Man

M. Bower B.

Description

Fans of B. M. Bower's fast-paced Western novels will love The Lookout Man. Set in Northern California when the region was still teetering between civilization and Old West devilry, the novel tells the tale of a young protagonist who has a good heart but a seemingly insatiable taste for danger.

Sujets

• Westerns
• Western (genre)
• Western

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 novembre 2012
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781775561446
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE LOOKOUT MAN
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B. M. BOWER
 
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The Lookout Man First published in 1917 ISBN 978-1-77556-144-6 © 2012 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter One - Some Time! Chapter Two - "Thanks for the Car" Chapter Three - To the Feather River Country and Freedom Chapter Four - Jack Finds Himself in Possession of a Job Chapter Five - "It's a Long Way to Tipperary," Sang Jack Chapter Six - Miss Rose Forward Chapter Seven - Guardian of the Forests Chapter Eight - In Which a Girl Plays Billiards on the Mountain Top Chapter Nine - Like the Boy He Was Chapter Ten - When Forests Are Ablaze Chapter Eleven - Sympathy and Advice Chapter Twelve - Kate Finds Something to Worry Over Chapter Thirteen - Jack Should Have a Hide-Out Chapter Fourteen - Murphy Has a Humorous Mood Chapter Fifteen - A Cave Dweller Jack Would Be Chapter Sixteen - Mike Goes Spying on the Spies Chapter Seventeen - Penitence, Real and Unreal Chapter Eighteen - Hank Brown Proves that He Can Read Tracks Chapter Nineteen - Trouble Rocks the Pan, Looking for Grains of Gold Chapter Twenty - Ignorance Taxes the Trail of Danger Chapter Twenty-One - Gold of Repentance, Sunlight of Love and a Man Gone Mad Chapter Twenty-Two - The Miserere of Motherhood Chapter Twenty-Three - Grief, and Hope that Died Hard Chapter Twenty-Four - Trouble Finds the Gold that was in Them
Chapter One - Some Time!
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From the obscurity of vast, unquiet distance the surf came booming inwith the heavy impetus of high tide, flinging long streamers of kelpand bits of driftwood over the narrowing stretch of sand wheregarishly costumed bathers had lately shrieked hilariously at theirgambols. Before the chill wind that had risen with the turn of thetide the bathers retreated in dripping, shivering groups, to appearlater in fluffs and furs and woollen sweaters; still inclined tohilarity, still undeniably both to leave off their pleasuring atVenice, dedicated to cheap pleasures.
But when the wind blew stronger and the surf boomed louder and nearer,and the faint moon-path stretched farther and farther toward thesmudgy sky-line, city-going street-cars began to fill with sunburnedpassengers, and motors began to purr out of the narrow side streetslined with shoddy buildings which housed the summer sojourners. Onemore Sunday night's revelry was tapering off into shouted farewells,clanging gongs, honking horns and the shuffling of tired feet hurryinghomeward.
In cafes and grills and private dining rooms groups of revelers, whosepleasures were not halted by the nickel alarm-clocks tickinginexorably all over the city and its suburbs, still lingered longafter the masses had gone home yawning and counting the fullness ofpast joys by the present extent of smarting sunblisters.
Automobiles loaded with singing passengers scurried after their ownbeams of silver light down the boulevards. At first a continuous lineof speeding cars; then thinning with long gaps between; then longergaps with only an occasional car; then the quiet, lasting for minutesunbroken, so that the wind could be heard in the eucalyptus trees thathere and there lined the boulevard.
After the last street-car had clanged away from the desertedbunting-draped joy zone that now was stark and joyless, a belatedseven-passenger car, painted a rich plum color and splendid inupholstering and silver trim, swept a long row of darkened windowswith a brush of light as it swung out from a narrow alley and wentpurring down to where the asphalt shone black in the night.
Full throated laughter and a medley of shouted jibes andcurrent witticisms went with it. The tonneau squirmed with uproariousyouth. The revolving extra seats swung erratically, propelled byenergetic hands, while some one barked the stereotyped invitation tothe deserted scenic swing, and some one else shouted to the revolvingoccupants to keep their heads level, and all the others laughedfoolishly.
The revolving ones rebelled, and in the scuffle some one lurchedforward against the driver at a critical turn in the road, throwinghim against the wheel. The big car swerved almost into the ditch, wasbrought back just in the nick of time and sped on, while Death, whohad looked into that tonneau, turned away with a shrug.
The driver, bareheaded and with the wind blowing his thick mop of wavyhair straight back from his forehead, glanced back with swift disfavorat the scuffling bunch.
"Hey—you want to go in the ditch?" he expostulated, chewingvigorously upon gum that still tasted sweet and full-flavored. "Youwanta cut out that rough stuff over this way!"
" All right, Jackie, old boy, anything to please!" chanted theoffender, cuffing the cap off the fellow next him. "Some time," headded with vague relish. "S-o-m-e time! What?"
"Some time is right!" came the exuberant chorus. "Hey, Jack! u hadsome time, all right—you and that brown-eyed queen that danced likeMrs. Castle. Um-um! Floatin' round with your arms full ofsunshine—oh, you thought you was puttin' something over on the restof us—what?"
"Cut it out!" Jack retorted, flinging the words over his shoulder."Don't talk to me. Road's flopping around like a snake with its headcut off—" He laughed apologetically, his eyes staring straight aheadover the lowered windshield.
"Aw, step on her, Jack! Show some class, boy—show some class! Goodold boat! If you're too stewed to drive 'er, e knows the way home.Say, Jackie, if this old car could talk, wouldn't momma get anear-full on Monday, hey? What if she—"
"Cut it out —or I'll throw you out!" came back over Jack'sshirt-clad shoulder. He at least had the wit to use what little sensehe had in driving the car, and he had plenty of reason to believe thathe could carry out his threat, even if the boulevard did heave itselfup at him like the writhings of a great snake. If his head was not fitfor the job, his trained muscles would still drive with automaticprecision. Only his vision was clouded; not the mechanical skillnecessary to pilot his mother's big car safely into the garage.
Whim held the five in the rear seats absorbed in their own maudlincomicalities. The fellow beside Jack did not seem to take any interestin his surroundings, and the five gave the front seat no furtherattention. Jack drove circumspectly, leaning a little forward, hisbare arms laid up across the wheel and grasping the top of it. Brownas bronze, those arms, as were his face and neck and chest down towhere the open V of his sport shirt was held closed with the looseknot of a crimson tie that whipped his shoulder as he drove. A finelooking fellow he was, sitting there like the incarnation of strengthand youth and fullblooded optimism. It was a pity that he wasdrunk—he would have been a perfect specimen of young manhood, else.
The young man on the front seat beside him turned suddenly on thosebehind. The lower half of his face was covered with a black muffler.He had a gun, and he "cut down" on the group with disconcertingrealism.
"Hands up!" he intoned fearsomely. "I am the mysterious lone bandit ofthe boulevards. Your jewels are the price of your lives!" Thesix-shooter wavered, looking bleakly at one and then another.
After the first stunned interval, a shout of laughter went up fromthose behind. "Good! Good idea!" one approved. And another, having somefamiliarity with the mechanics of screen melodrama, shouted, "Camera!"
"Lone bandit nothing! We're all mysterious auto bandits out seekingwhom we may devour!" cried a young man with a naturally attractiveface and beautiful teeth, hastily folding his handkerchief cornerwisefor a mask, and tying it behind his head—to the great discomfort ofhis neighbors, who complained bitterly at having their eyes jabbed outwith his elbows.
The bandit play caught the crowd. For a few tumultuous minutes elbowswere up, mufflers and handkerchiefs flapping. There emerged from theconfusion six masked bandits, and three of them flourishedsix-shooters with a recklessness that would have given a Texas mancold chills down his spine. Jack, not daring to take his eyes off theheaving asphalt, or his hands off the wheel, retained his naturalappearance until some generous soul behind him proceeded, in spite ofhis impatient "Cut it out, fellows!" to confiscate his flapping, redtie and bind it across his nose; which transformed Jack Corey into aspeeding fiend, if looks meant anything. Thereafter they threwthemselves back upon the suffering upholstery and commented gleefullyupon their banditish qualifications.
That grew tame, of course. They thirsted for mock horrors,and two glaring moons rising swiftly over a hill gave thepsychological fillip to their imaginations.
"Come on-let's hold 'em up!" cried the young man on the front seat."Naw-I'll tell you! Slow down, Jack, and everybody keep your facesshut. When we're just past I'll shoot down at the ground by a hindwheel. Make 'em think they've got a blowout—get the idea?"
"Some idea!" promptly came approval, and the six subsided immediately.
The coming car neared swiftly, the driver shaving as close to thespeed limit as he dared. Unsuspectingly he swerved to give plenty ofspace in passing, and as he did so a loud bang startled him. The brakesquealed as he made an emergency stop. "Blowout, by thunder!" theyheard him call to his companions, as he piled out and ran to the wheelhe thought had suffered the accident.
Jack obligingly slowed down so that the six, leaning far out andcraning back at their v