Western Stories by Stewart Edward White : Arthur's Classic Novels

Western Stories by Stewart E. White

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See also Bret Harte & Zane Grey &
Wild Western Stories

Arizona Nights
The ring around the sun had thickened all day long, and the turquoise blue of the Arizona sky had filmed. Storms in the dry countries are infrequent, but heavy; and this surely meant storm.

The Blazed Trail
He is a strong man, with a strong man's virtues and a strong man's vices. In him the passions are elemental, the dramas epic, for he lives in the age when men are close to nature, and draw from her their forces. He satisfies his needs direct from the earth. Stripped of all the towns can give him, he merely resorts to a facile substitution.

The Land Of Footprints

Our camp was pitched under a single large mimosa tree near the edge of a deep and narrow ravine down which a stream flowed. A semicircle of low mountains hemmed us in at the distance of several miles. The other side of the semicircle was occupied by the upthrow of a low rise blocking off an horizon at its nearest point but a few hundred yards away. Trees marked the course of the stream; low scattered bushes alternated with open plain. The grass grew high. We had to cut it out to make camp.

The Mountains
Our favorite route to the main ridge was by a way called the Cold Spring Trail. We used to enjoy taking visitors up it, mainly because you come on the top suddenly, without warning. Then we collected remarks. Everybody, even the most stolid, said something.

The Riverman
A strong wind blew up the length of the pond. It ruffled the surface of the water, swooping down in fan-shaped, scurrying cat's- paws, turning the dark-blue surface as one turns the nap of velvet. At the upper end of the pond it even succeeded in raising quite respectable wavelets,

The Silent Places
In a moment one of the men on the veranda began to talk. It was not Galen Albret, though Galen Albret had summoned them, but MacDonald, his Chief Trader and his right-band man. Galen Albret himself made no sign, but sat, his head sunk forward, watching the men's faces from his cavernous eyes.

The Leopard Woman
It was the close of the day. Over the baked veldt of Equatorial Africa a safari marched. The men, in single file, were reduced to the unimportance of moving black dots by the tremendous sweep of the dry country stretching away to a horizon infinitely remote, beyond which lay single mountains, like ships becalmed hull-down at sea.

African Camp Fires
Of such hotels I number that gaudy and polysyllabic hostelry the Grand Hôtel du Louvre et de la Paix at Marseilles. I am indifferent to the facts that it is situated on that fine thoroughfare, the Rue de Cannebière,

The Claim Jumpers
At the word, the two on the mattress turned and grappled each other fiercely, half rising to their feet in the strenuousness of endeavour. Jeems tried frantically for a half-Nelson. While preventing it the wily Bert awaited his chance for a hammer-lock.

The Mystery by Stewart Edward White and Samuel Hopkins Adams
Here and there in the sea a glint of silver, a patch of purple, or dull red, or a glistening apparition of black showed where the unintended victims of the explosion, the gay-hued open-sea fish of the warm waters

The Rules of the Game
The heavy-set man looked about him. The river and the bottom-land growths of willow and hardwood were hemmed in, as far as he could see, by low-wooded hills. Only the railroad bridge, the steep embankment of the right-of-way, and a small, painted, windowless structure next the water met his eye as the handiwork of man.

The Grey Dawn
The approach across the Plaza of a group of men caused him to lay aside his paper, and with it his spectacles. The doffing of the latter strangely changed his whole expression. The philosophical middle-aged quietude fell from him. He became younger, keener, more alert. It was as though he had removed a disguise.

The Road I Know

The Stars Are Still There

The Betty Book

The Unobstructed Universe

With Folded Wings

See also Bret Harte & Zane Grey &
Wild Western Stories

Lifeboats

Sleek and fresh are the timbers of that white ship
Now sailing upon the rough seas of human turmoil
Lifeboats full of populations half drowned cry out
To her as it passes smoothly nearby.

Some curse the vision because it is the wrong shape
Others wish to board it as pirates, thoughts of slaughter
A few wish only to save their lives and their families
A line is thrown out, the man tying the rope is stabbed, rope cut.

A sleek ship passes smoothly on a rough sea
Nearby a large leaky vessel, crew sick and starving
Through pus eyes they spot their enemy, firing all remaining guns
Sleek ship moves out of range unharmed, 
calls across signalling assistance.

Leaky vessel is sinking, lifeboats for some.
Firm and adaptable is the new craft in its maneuvers
Assured are its crew and confident its passengers of
reaching harbour, landing in spring, simple happiness.

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