Bob Hampton of Placer

Bob Hampton of Placer

The Project Gutenberg eBook, Bob Hampton of Placer, by Randall Parrish, Illustrated by Arthur I. Keller
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Title: Bob Hampton of Placer
Author: Randall Parrish

Release Date: January 27, 2006 [eBook #17614]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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BOB HAMPTON OF PLACER
by
RANDALL PARRISH
Author of "When Wilderness Was King," "My Lady of the North," "Historic Illinois," Etc.
Illustrated by Arthur I. Keller

[Frontispiece: "I Read It in your Face," He Insisted. "It Told of Love."]

Eighth Edition Chicago A. C. McClurg & Co. 1907 Copyright A. C. McClurg & Co. 1906 Entered at Stationers' Hall, London All rights reserved Published, September 22, 1906 Second Edition October 1, 1906 Third Edition October 15, 1906 Fourth Edition November 1, 1906 Fifth Edition November 15, 1906 Sixth Edition December 1, 1906 Seventh Edition January 5, 1907 Eighth Edition January 9, 1907

CONTENTS

PART I
FROM OUT THE CANYON

CHAPTER
I
HAMPTON, OF PLACER II OLD GILLIS'S GIRL III BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH IV ON THE NAKED PLAIN V A NEW PROPOSITION VI "TO BE OR NOT TO BE" VII "I'VE COME HERE TO LIVE" VIII A LAST REVOLT IX AT THE OCCIDENTAL

PART II
WHAT OCCURRED IN GLENCAID
I THE ARRIVAL OF MISS SPENCER II BECOMING ACQUAINTED III UNDER ORDERS IV SILENT MURPHY V IN HONOR OF MISS SPENCER VI THE LIEUTENANT MEETS MISS SPENCER VII AN UNUSUAL GIRL VIII THE REAPPEARANCE OF AN OLD FRIEND IX THE VERGE OF A QUARREL X A SLIGHT INTERRUPTION XI THE DOOR OPENS, AND CLOSES AGAIN XII THE COHORTS OF JUDGE LYNCH XIII "SHE LOVES ME, SHE LOVES ME NOT" XIV PLUCKED FROM THE BURNING XV THE DOOR CLOSES XVI THE RESCUE OF MISS SPENCER XVII THE PARTING HOUR

PART III
ON THE LITTLE BIG HORN
I MR. HAMPTON RESOLVES II THE TRAIL OF SILENT MURPHY III THE HAUNTING OF A CRIME IV THE VERGE OF CONFESSION V ALONE WITH THE INSANE VI ON THE LITTLE BIG HORN VII THE FIGHT IN THE VALLEY VIII THE OLD REGIMENT IX THE LAST STAND X THE CURTAIN FALLS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"I Read It in your Face," He Insisted. "It Told of Love" . . . . . . Frontispiece
They Advanced Slowly, the Supported Blankets Swaying Gently to the Measured Tread
"Mr. Slavin Appears to have Lost his Previous Sense of Humor," He Remarked, Calmly
Together They Bore Him, now Unconscious, Slowly down below the First Fire-Line

BOB HAMPTON OF PLACER

PART I
FROM OUT THE CANYON
CHAPTER I
HAMPTON, OF PLACER
It was not an uncommon tragedy of the West. If slightest chronicle of it survive, it must be discovered among the musty and nearly forgotten records of the Eighteenth Regiment of Infantry, yet it is extremely probable that even there the details were never written down. Sufficient if, following certain names on that long regimental roll, there should be duly entered those cabalistic symbols signifying to the initiated, "Killed in action." After all, that tells the story. In those old-time Indian days of continuous foray and skirmish such brief returns, concise and unheroic, were commonplace enough.
Yet the tale is worth telling now, when such days are past and gone. There were sixteen of them when, like so many hunted rabbits, they were first securely trapped among the frowning rocks, and forced relentlessly backward from off the narrow trail until the precipitous canyon walls finally halted their disorganized flight, and from sheer necessity compelled a rally in hopeless battle. Sixteen,--ten infantrymen from old Fort Bethune, under command of Syd. Wyman, a gray-headed sergeant of thirty years' continuous service in the regulars, two cow-punchers from the "X L" ranch, a stranger who had joined them uninvited at the ford over the Bear Water, together with old Gillis the post-trader, and his silent chit of a girl.
Sixteen--but that was three days before, and in the meanwhile not a few of those speeding Sioux bullets had found softer billet than the limestone rocks. Six of the soldiers, four already dead, two dying, lay outstretched in ghastly silence where they fell. "Red" Watt, of the "X L," would no more ride the range across the sun-kissed prairie, while the stern old sergeant, still grim of jaw but growing dim of eye, bore his right arm in a rudely improvised sling made from a cartridge-belt, and crept about sorely racked with pain, dragging a shattered limb behind him. Then the taciturn Gillis gave sudden utterance to a sobbing cry, and a burst of red spurted across his white beard as he reeled backward, knocking