Roy Norton

“ He worked his way back, cut a stick, and shoved his hat upward to the top of the log, trying to draw his enemies' fire. It was effective, and the old hat went sailing to the ground behind him. He rushed to a point of observation, and took another look, but nowhere was an enemy in sight. Not even a rifle-barrel protruded from behind any of the forest giants, who calmly furnished shelter.
Sandy recovered the hat, and from a new point of vantage tried his ruse. It failed to attract attention. Plainly his opponents were enemies of no mean caliber. ”

“ It seemed strange that through all the years, stretching away back to those of the desert sands, when he had been alternately packer, cow-puncher, miner, or woodsman, he who loved peace and quiet should be compelled always to fight, and fight, and fight. ”

“ An' unless it's a woman who jumps it, there ain't men enough in the Olympics to take the new claim away frum me.”
The thrusting of Dick's nose into his unoccupied hand aroused other thoughts. He turned back to the open door wherein stood the woman.
“I'd be much obliged if you'd take good care of Dick fur me,” he said, “because he cain't travel much. I had to lug him on my back most of the way up here, an' I've got a long ways to go—maybe the trail won't never end. Be good to him. He's a good fellow, even if he ain't got but three legs.” ”

“ And from the dog Sandy took comfort.
“You old rascal,” he said, patting the head which had been laid trustingly beside his, “you're worth a dozen timber-sharks, an' you don't suffer as much as lots of men. Your game ain't been an easy one, either, what with losin' your leg. Jest go to sleep and thank the Lord that you got your tail left. There's a heap o' satisfaction in bein' able to wag along.”
When her men reported at the cabin door in the morning, they found it open, the morning meal out of the way, and Sandy busily making up a pack. ”

“ Sandy tried to wing one of them, and found that his remaining cartridges were defective.
This wouldn't do. He must take to cover and put in fresh ones. He jumped, with long leaps, toward one of the barriers of fallen trees, and sought shelter. As he dropped down behind his logs, two rifle-bullets sang dangerously past his head, and went “flick-flicking” through the tree tops.
Sandy stood behind a log, with feverish energy threw out the cartridges which had failed him in his need, and inserted fresh ones from his belt. ”

“ Here was his enemy—a woman. And it was her men whom he had fought, and it was her claim-notice that threatened him, and she a widow, who had paid money to professional locators, to put her upon his ground. Yes—his ground! Ground that he had paid for with money and labored effort, and by following the maze of the law's technicalities. “His home!” The home that he had built and loved with a tenderness that came of years of longing for it. Anyway, thinking took time, and he must find the right way out.
So Sandy told Mrs. ”

“ They looked from one to the other, and the foreman brought relief by suggesting that it was time to make camp. One man began the opening of their packs, while the wounded were cared for. Sandy took grim satisfaction from the thought that the shot that caught the elbow had been a good one. ”