The land of forgotten men

The idea came to Big Chris, as he stood on the beach gazing out through the narrow, darkened harbor mouth into the night and the storm, that this world of his was an outcast wor...

From Dorothy Newhall’s favorite chair, where often she sat cross-legged like a tailor, she could look through the broad library window, across velvet lawns and a flowering hedge...

When Peter Newhall was hurled into that awful sea he had no shadow of a dream but that this was his last conscious instant. There was no battling those mountainous waves, and th...

Limejuice Pete! It did not surprise Peter Newhall that Bill should take him for an Englishman. He was a pure Anglo-Saxon to start with, his features had suggested those of the b...

In the months since she had heard the first news of her husband’s death life had moved gracefully in Dorothy’s home in the South. Ivan had tried hard to make her forget her loss...

Even as he wondered at the maze into which fate was leading him Pete was swept with exultation. Even though the few days in his wife’s presence would only open old wounds, waken...

The _Warrior_ was loaded, not only with supplies for the journey but also with Pete’s winter outfit, and the entire party put to sea. As Bradford had predicted, Dorothy was imme...

Dorothy could scarcely believe her eyes at first. Then she leaped out from her shelter—a slender, appealing figure in the clouds of rain—and called sobbingly, as if her voice wo...

Dorothy slept late, and Pete cooked her a special breakfast when he heard her stirring in the tent. She saw with relief that the worst of the storm had passed during the night....

Dorothy found, to her great surprise, that the days of waiting passed rather swiftly. She slept long in the mornings on the comfortable, rudely contrived grass mattress that Pet...

Rough seas prevailed during the first five days of their isolation, and these were followed by a long period of comparative calm,—a pleasant change indeed, in Ivan’s mind. The w...

They were both silent as they thought of the immensity of this: the convoy by the dead. Ivan, always something of a mystic, caught fire at once and leaned toward her in deepest...

At the appointed time Ivan packed his supplies for his journey across the narrow, rugged Peninsula in quest of help. He took three days’ rations, tied them up in Pete’s light ca...

This camp was home, but in Dorothy’s mind it was a very empty and desolate place when both Ivan and Pete were absent. It is true that in her hours of solitude she learned more t...

To Dorothy were left the hills and the sky, the steep crags and the alder thickets, many-colored by the whims of the frost. That strange mood of utter loneliness that she rememb...

Just before noon of the following day Pete—who was resting beside the camp fire—made out a moving speck on the distant, inland hills; and close scrutiny proved it to be Ivan, re...

All the summer flowers were faded, but Ivan’s ingenuity devised a bridal bouquet of scarlet autumn leaves into which strands of green moss were intertwined that was in harmony w...

There could not be the least doubt of Sarichef’s identity. It was not one of those curious cases of a double. All three actors in the drama knew him at the first glance, with ce...

Ivan turned abruptly from Sarichef, and smiling faintly in appeal, stepped in front of Dorothy. Her wide-open eyes fixed on his thin, stark-white face; but her expression did no...

The simple words, so moving and mysterious in the half-light, lifted Dorothy to the skies, out of the storm and the night, the despair and the terror never to descend again; yet...