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The Hound From The North   By: (1867-1943)

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THE HOUND FROM THE NORTH

[Illustration: "AND EVERY NOW AND THEN IT WOULD CEASE ITS HEALING OPERATION TO THROW UP ITS LONG MUZZLE AND EMIT ONE OF THOSE DRAWN OUT HOWLS."]

THE HOUND FROM THE NORTH

By RIDGWELL CULLUM

Author of

"In the Brooding Wild," "The Story of the Foss River Ranch," "The Law Breakers," "The Way of the Strong," Etc.

With Frontispiece

By CHARLES LIVINGSTON BULL

A. L. BURT COMPANY

Publishers New York

Published by Arrangement with The Page Company

Copyright, 1904

By L. C. Page & Company

(INCORPORATED)

All rights reserved

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE I. IN THE MOUNTAINS 1 II. MR. ZACHARY SMITH 15 III. MR. ZACHARY SMITH SMOKES 29 IV. 'YELLOW BOOMING SLUMP IN GREY' 46 V. THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL 65 VI. THE PROGRESSIVE EUCHRE PARTY 81 VII. LESLIE GREY FULFILS HIS DESTINY 98 VIII. GREY'S LAST WORDS 115 IX. LONELY RANCH AT OWL HOOT 133 X. THE GRAVEYARD AT OWL HOOT 157 XI. CANINE VAGARIES 181 XII. THE BREAKING OF THE STORM 202 XIII. BLACKMAIL 226 XIV. A STAB IN THE DARK 240 XV. THE MAGGOT AT THE CORE 257 XVI. AN ECHO FROM THE ALASKAN MOUNTAINS 273 XVII. THE LAST OF LONELY RANCH 286 XVIII. THE FOREST DEMON PURSUES 306 XIX. THE AVENGER 321 IN CONCLUSION 341

THE HOUND FROM THE NORTH

CHAPTER I

IN THE MOUNTAINS

A pallid sun, low, gleaming just over a rampart of mountain tops. Sundogs heralds of stormy weather fiercely staring, like sentries, upon either hand of the mighty sphere of light. Vast glaciers shimmering jewel like in the steely light of the semi Arctic evening. Black belts of gloomy pinewoods on the lower slopes of the mountains; the trees snow burdened, but black with the darkness of night in their melancholy depths. The earth white; snow to the thickness of many feet on all. Life none; not a beast of the earth, nor a fowl of the air, nor the hum of an insect. Solitude. Cold grey, pitiless cold. Night is approaching.

The hill ranges which backbone the American continent the northern extremity of the Rocky Mountains. The barrier which confronts the traveller as he journeys from the Yukon Valley to the Alaskan seaboard. Land where the foot of man but rarely treads. And mid winter.

But now, in the dying light of day, a man comes slowly, painfully into the picture. What an atom in that infinity of awful grandeur. One little life in all that desert of snow and ice. And what a life. The poor wretch was swathed in furs; snow shoes on his feet, and a long staff lent his drooping figure support. His whole attitude told its own tale of exhaustion. But a closer inspection, one glance into the fierce burning eyes, which glowered from the depths of two cavernous sockets, would have added a sequel of starvation. The eyes had a frenzied look in them, the look of a man without hope, but with still that instinct of life burning in his brain. Every now and again he raised one mitted hand and pressed it to nose and cheeks. He knew his face was frozen, but he had no desire to stop to thaw it out. He was beyond such trifles. His upturned storm collar had become massed with icicles about his mouth, and the fur was frozen solidly to his chin whisker, but he gave the matter no heed... Continue reading book >>




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