Homepage
Login
Profile
BookClubs
dmBox
Read Ebook: Connie Morgan in Alaska by Hendryx James B James Beardsley
Font size:
Background color:
Text color:
Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page
Ebook has 1936 lines and 107185 words, and 39 pages
PAGE
"Making sure that the boy slept, he began silently to assemble his trail pack" 42
"When Connie opened his eyes, daylight had vanished" 67
"What could one small boy do in the face of the ultimatum of these men of the North?" 81
"My dad would have got out, and, you bet, so will I!" 103
"Now, what d' yo' think of that! I'd sho' hate fo' this heah rope to break!" 116
Connie Morgan "stared spellbound at the terrible splendour of the changing lights" 136
"Waseche Bill attacked the hard-packed snow with his axe" 149
"We'ah lost, kid. It's a cinch we cain't find the divide" 154
"The boy's lips moved in prayer, the only one he had ever learned" 166
"With a palsied arm he motioned to O'Brien, who stepped before him" 195
"The boy's fifteen-foot lash sang through the thin air" 216
"As they passed between the pillared rocks the Indians broke cover, hurling their copper-tipped harpoons as they ran" 232
"You make me tired!" cried Connie. "Anybody'd think you needed a city, with the streets all numbered, to find your way around" 237
"Without waiting for a reply, Connie slipped softly over the edge" 262
"Recklessly O'Brien rushed out upon the glittering span of snow while Connie and Waseche watched breathlessly" 272
"My dad followed British Kronk eight hundred miles through the snow before he caught him--and then--you just wait." 299
"Mechanically he drew the knife from its sheath and dragged himself to the body of the moose." 310
"Between them walked a little, rat-faced man. The man was Mr. Squigg." 331
"Squigg slunk into the star-lit night." 337
Connie Morgan in Alaska
SAM MORGAN'S BOY
Connie Morgan, or as he is affectionately called by the big, bearded men of the Yukon, Sam Morgan's boy, now owns one of the crack dog teams of Alaska. For Connie has set his heart upon winning the great Alaska Sweepstakes--the grandest and most exciting race in all the world, a race that crowds both driver and dogs to the very last measure of endurance, sagacity, and skill.
But that is another story. For Connie also owns what is probably the most ludicrous and ill-assorted three-dog team ever assembled; and he is never so happy as when jogging slowly over the trail behind old Boris, Mutt, and Slasher.
No sourdough in his right senses would give fifty dollars for the three, but Sam Morgan's boy would gladly sacrifice his whole team of thousand-dollar dogs to save any one of them. For it was the fine courage and loyalty of this misfit team that enabled him to beat out the Ten Bow stampede and file on "One Below Discovery," next to Waseche Bill, the big sourdough who is his partner--and who loves him as Sam Morgan loved him before he crossed the Big Divide.
Sam Morgan was among those who went to Alaska in the first days of the great gold rush. Like Peg's father in the play, Sam Morgan could do anything but make money. So when the news came of gold--bright, yellow gold lying loose on the floors of creeks up among the snows of the Arctic--Sam Morgan bid his wife and boy good-bye at the door of the little cottage in a ten-carat town of a middle State and fared forth to win riches.
The man loved his wife and son with all the love of his rugged nature, and for their sakes cheerfully endured the perils and hardships of the long trails without a murmur. But in spite of his dogged persistence and unflagging toil he never made a strike. He was in the van of a dozen stampedes--stampedes that made millionaires out of some men and stark corpses out of others--but somehow his claims never panned out.
Unlucky, men called him. And his name became a byword for ill-luck throughout the length and breadth of the Northland.
"She's a Sam Morgan," men would say, as they turned in disappointment from an empty hole driven deep into frozen gravel, and would wearily hit the trail to sink other shafts in other gulches.
So Sam Morgan's luck became a proverb in the North. But Sam Morgan, himself, men loved. He was known among the meat-eaters as a man whose word was as good as other men's bonds, and his cheery smile made long trails less long. It was told in the camps that on one occasion, during a blizzard, he divided his last piece of bacon with a half-starved Indian, and then, carrying the man on his back, made eighteen miles through the storm to the shelter of a prospector's cabin.
His word became law in the settling of disputes. And to this day it is told on the trails how he followed "British Kronk," who struck it rich on the Black Horn, and abandoned his wife, leaving her starving in the cabin where she would surely have died had not Sam Morgan happened along and found her; and of how, after eight hundred miles of winter trail, he came upon him in Candle, and of the great man-fight that took place there on the hard-packed snow; of the tight clamp of the square jaw, and the terrible gleam of the grey eyes as, bare fisted, he made the huge man beg for mercy; and of how he took the man back, single-handed and without authority of law, clear to Fort Yukon, and forced him to recognize the woman and turn over to her a share of his gold.
It is not the bragging swashbucklers, the self-styled "bad men," who win the respect of the rough men upon the edges of the world. It is the silent, smiling men who stand for justice and a square deal--and who carry the courage of their convictions in their two fists.
When the letters from the North ceased coming, Sam Morgan's wife sickened and died.
"Jest nach'lly pined away a-waitin' fer word from Sam," the neighbours said. And when fifteen-year-old Connie returned to the empty cottage from the bleak little cemetery on the outskirts of the village, he sat far into the night and thought things over.
In the morning he counted the few dollars he had managed to save by doing odd jobs about the village, and placing them carefully in his pocket, together with a few trinkets that had belonged to his mother, left the cottage and started in search of Sam Morgan. He locked the door and laid the key under the mat, just where he knew his father would look for it should he return before he found him.
Connie told nobody of his plans, said no good-byes, but with a stout heart and a strange lump in his throat, passed quietly out of the familiar village and resolutely turned his face toward the great white North.
Thus is was that a small boy stepped off the last boat into Anvik that fall and mingled unnoticed among the boisterous men who crowded the shore. As the boat swung out into the current, the men left the river and entered the wide, low door of the trading post.
Dick Colton paused in his examination of the pile of freight, and noticing for the first time the forlorn little figure who stood watching the departing boat, sauntered over and spoke:
"Hello, sonny, where you bound?"
The boy turned and gravely faced the smiling man. "I've come to find my father," he answered.
"Where is your father?"
"He is here--somewhere."
"Here? In Anvik, you mean?"
"In Alaska."
The man uttered a low whistle. The smile was gone from his face, and he noted the threadbare cloth overcoat, and the bare legs showing through the ragged holes in the boy's stockings.
"What is your father's name, boy?"
"Sam Morgan."
At the name the man started and an exclamation escaped his lips.
"Do you know him?" The boy's face was eager with expectation, and the man found the steadfast gaze of the blue eyes disconcerting.
"Just you wait here, son, for a minute, while I run up to the store. Maybe some of the boys know him." And he turned and hurried toward the long, low building into which the men had disappeared.
"Boys!" he cried, bursting in on them, "there is a kid out here. Came in on the boat. He is hunting for his dad." The men ceased their talk and looked at the speaker with interest. "And, Heaven help us, it's Sam Morgan's boy!"
Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page