The Lucky Piece: A Tale of the North Woods

It was several hours after Frank Weatherby had set out on the McIntyre trail--when the sun had risen to a point where it came mottling through the tree-tops and dried the vines...

"As I said, it may have been thirty years ago," the gentle voice continued. "It may have been more than that--I do not know. It was on the Sound shore, in one of the pretty vill...

Constance Deane had developed a definite ambition. At all events she believed it to be such, which, after all, is much the same thing in the end. It was her dream to pursue this...

True to her promise, Constance was at the Lodge early next morning. Frank, a trifle pale and solemn, waited on the veranda steps. Yet he greeted her cheerfully enough, for the C...

Yet the adventure on the mountain was not without its ill effects. It happened that day that Mr. and Mrs. Deane had taken one of their rare walks over to Spruce Lodge. They had...

The outside of Spruce Lodge suggested to Frank the Anglo-Saxon castle of five or six hundred years ago, though it was probably better constructed than most of the castles of tha...

The sun was not yet above the hills when Frank Weatherby left the Lodge next morning. He halted for a moment to procure some convenient receptacle and was supplied with a trout...

The young man by the fire looked a little dismayed. The soft chair and the luxurious room were so much more comfortable than the Park on such a day as this.

With September the hurry at the Lodge subsided. Vacations were beginning to be over--mountain climbers and wood rangers were returning to office, studio and classroom. Those who...

Certainly the house of the hermit, for such he undoubtedly was, proved a remarkable place. There was no regular form to the room in which Frank and Constance found themselves, n...

That green which is known only to June lay upon the hills. Algonquin, Tahawus and Whiteface--but a little before grim with the burden of endless years--rousing from their long,...

It may have been an hour--perhaps two of them--since Robin with Constance and her mother had passed him on the way to the Lodge, when suddenly Frank heard some one hurrying down...

Prosperous days came to the Lodge. Hospitable John Morrison had found a calling suited to his gifts when he came across the mountain and built the big log tavern at the foot of...

Frank rose and, plunging his hands into his pockets, lounged over to the wide window and gazed out on the wild March storm which was drenching and dismaying Fifth Avenue. A weav...

The Circle of Industry had been minus an important member that afternoon. The small woman in black was there, and a reduced contingent of such auxiliary members as still remaine...

"I only told him," Frank wrote that night to Constance, "that the hermit's story had a part in his mother's life. I suppose I might have told him more, but he seemed quite willi...