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'Me--Smith' By: Caroline Lockhart (1870-1962) |
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"ME SMITH" BY CAROLINE LOCKHART WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY GAYLE HOSKINS NEW YORK GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS
Copyright 1911
By J. B. Lippincott Company Published February 15, 1911
Second printing, February 25, 1911
Third printing, March 5, 1911
Fourth printing, March 20, 1911
Fifth Printing, June 5, 1911
Sixth Printing, July 1, 1911
Seventh Printing, August 17, 1911
CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE
I. "Me Smith" 11
II. On the Alkali Hill 18
III. The Empty Chair 29
IV. A Swap in Saddle Blankets 48
V. Smith Makes Medicine with the Schoolmarm 58
VI. The Great Secret 79
VII. Cupid "Wings" a Deputy Sheriff 95
VIII. The Bug hunter Elucidates 110
IX. Speaking Of Grasshoppers 123
X. Mother Love and Savage Passion Conflict 130
XI. The Best Horse 142
XII. Smith Gets "Hunks" 156
XIII. Susie's Indian Blood 162
XIV. The Slayer of Mastodons 169
XV. Where a Man Gets a Thirst 190
XVI. Tinhorn Frank Smells Money 205
XVII. Susie Humbles Herself to Smith 213
XVIII. A Bad "Hombre" 228
XIX. When The Clouds Played Wolf 240
XX. The Love Medicine of the Sioux 248
XXI. The Murderer of White Antelope 272
XXII. A Mongolian Cupid 293
XXIII. In Their Own Way 303
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE "That Look in Your Eyes That Look as if You
Hadn't Nothin' to Hide is it True?" Frontispiece "She's a Game Kid, All Right," Said Smith
to Himself at the Top of the Hill. 22 It Meant Death but it was Wet! it was Water! 196 Smith Reached for the Trailing Rope and They
Were Gone! 284 They Quirted Their Horses at Breakneck Speed
In the Direction of the Bad Lands. 308
"ME SMITH" I "ME SMITH"
A man on a tired gray horse reined in where a dim cattle trail dropped
into a gulch, and looked behind him. Nothing was in sight. He half closed
his eyes and searched the horizon. No, there was nothing just the same
old sand and sage brush, hills, more sand and sage brush, and then to the
west and north the spur of the Rockies, whose jagged peaks were white with
a fresh fall of snow. The wind was chill. He shivered, and looked to the
eastward. For the last few hours he had felt snow in the air, and now he
could see it in the dim, gray mist still far off, but creeping toward
him. For the thousandth time, he wondered where he was. He knew vaguely that he
was "over the line" that Montana was behind him but he was riding an
unfamiliar range, and the peaks and hills which are the guide boards of
the West meant nothing to him. So far as he knew, he was the only human
being within a hundred miles. His lips drew back in a half grin and
exposed a row of upper teeth unusually white and slightly protruding. He
was thinking of the meeting with the last person to whom he had spoken
within twenty four hours. He closed one eye and looked up at the sun. Yes,
it was just about the same time yesterday that a dude from the English
ranch, a dude in knee breeches and shiny topped riding boots, had galloped
confidently toward him. He had dismounted and pretended to be cinching his
saddle. When the dude was close enough Smith had thrown down on him with
his gun. "Feller," he had said, "I guess I'll have to trade horses with you. And
fall off quick, for I'm in kind of a hurry... Continue reading book >>
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Fiction |
Literature |
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