The Doctor : A Tale of the Rockies

“Don't bother telling me,” said Mrs. Duff Charrington, observing her confusion. “No doubt Bulling gave you to understand that he worked me to invite you. Confess now.” There was...

At the crest of the hill he paused to look back, and here the pain that had been running below his consciousness, like the minor strain in rich music, came to the top. This was...

“I quite agree with you,” said Maclennan, shaking Dr. Bailey warmly by the hand. “The measures were somewhat drastic, but something had to be done. Go right on, Doctor. When Cra...

“No. But I do know that there ain't any other combination kin. I'm working for myself in this game. If any combination wants to shove my way, they can jump in. They'll quit when...

“Well, this ain't no place to die in. We ain't got time.” An angry murmur ran through the men about the door. “Take him up to the bunk-house,” said the saloon-keeper to Tommy wi...

“Yes. Since the young doctor--that's w'at Benny calls 'im--change 'em. Oh, that's a clever young man! Benney, 'e sez, 'Give me the young doctor,' sez 'e. Yeh see,” continued Mrs...

There is no sweeter spot in all the west Highlands of Scotland than the valley that runs back from that far penetrating arm of the sea, Loch Fyne, to Craigraven. There, after a...

“We can easily place Finlayson. He is a good man and will do excellent work in other fields. But where to get a man for Windermere is the question. Do you know anyone?”

“Indeed,” said his mother. “I have heard that it takes four good men to keep up to a machine. It was no later than yesterday that Mr. Morrison's Sam was telling me that they had...

“What do you propose? What can I do in this cursed hole?” said Dr. Haines petulantly. “No appliances, no means of isolation, no nurses, nothing. Beside, I have half a dozen camp...

The Journalistic World has its own diversity of mountain and plain, and its own variety of inhabitants. There are its mountain ranges and upland regions of clear skies and pure...

“Is that so?” replied Dick, laughing. “Well, there are some who have escaped the tin-horn gang and the whiskey runners. Or rather, they've got it, but it's a different kind. Som...

The building of a bank-barn was a watershed in farm chronology. Toward that event or from it the years took their flight. For many summers the big boulders were gathered from th...

The doctor cautiously parted the bushes and looked out. Close to the bank came the canoe, the singer sitting in the stern, his hat off and his face showing brown against the fai...

There were two ways by which one could get to the Old Stone Mill. One, from the sideroad by a lane which, edged with grassy, flower-decked banks, wound between snake fences, alo...

For three days Dick made steady progress toward health, but his progress was slow. Any mental effort produced severe pain in his head and sufficed to raise his temperature sever...

She glanced at the other letters upon the table. “Barney,” she cried, seizing one. An odd compunction struck into her heart. “Barney, poor old boy!” A sudden thought stayed her...

“Oh, Lady Ruthven, must we go?” cried Iola, as her hostess made a move to rise. “What a delightful dinner we have had! Now you are not going to send me away just yet. 'After din...

Barney's brief word of acknowledgment showed his resentment of Bulling's tone and his dislike of the man. It angered Barney to observe the familiar, almost confidential, manner...

It was intolerable to her that this girl should have regarded lightly the love she herself would have died to gain. But long after Iola had sobbed herself to sleep in her arms M...

After a little protest the girl struck a few chords and dashed off into that old plantation song full of mingling pathos and humour. Barney picked up his father's violin, touche...

A fortunate rainy day, making the hauling of hay or the cutting of fall wheat equally impossible, filled the school with the parents and friends of the children. The minister an...

“And then,” continued his brother, “He let me do a little work for the boys, for 'Mexico.' Poor 'Mexico'! But he'll stick, I think. Help him, Dick. He is my friend.”