Jim Waring of Sonora-Town

㔊Jim Waring of Sonora-Town - Tang of Life

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Title: Jim Waring of Sonora-Town Tang of Life
Author: Knibbs, Henry Herbert
Release Date: April 28, 2004 [EBook #12189]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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JIM WARING
OF SONORA-TOWN
OR, TANG OF LIFE
BY
HENRY HERBERT KNIBBS
AUTHOR OF OVERLAND RED, ETC.
ILLUSTRATIONS BY
E. BOYD SMITH
August 1918
To
Robert Frothingham

[Illustration: Waring of Sonora-Town]

Waring of Sonora-Town
_The heat acrost the desert was a-swimmin' in the sun, When Waring of Sonora-Town, Jim Waring of Sonora-Town, From Salvador come ridin' down, a-rollin' of his gun.
He was singin' low and easy to his pony's steady feet, But his eye was live and driftin' Round the scenery and siftin' All the crawlin' shadows shiftin' in the tremblin' gray mesquite.
Eyes was watchin' from a hollow where a outlaw Chola lay; Two black, snaky eyes a-yearnin' For Jim's hoss to make the turnin', Then to send a bullet burnin' through his back--the Chola way.
And Jim Waring's gaze, a-rovin' round the desert as he rode, Settled quick--without him seemin' To get wise and quit his dreamin'-- On a shiny ring a-gleamin' where no ring had ever growed.
The lightnin' don't give warnin'; just a lick and she is through; Waring set his gun to smokin' Playful like, like he was jokin', And--a Chola lay a-chokin' ... and a buzzard cut the blue._
Contents
I. The Ca?on
II. José Vaca
III. Donovan's Hand
IV. The Silver Crucifix
V. The Tang of Life
VI. Arizona
VII. The Return of Waring
VIII. Lorry
IX. High-Chin Bob
X. East and West
XI. Spring Lamb
XII. Bud Shoop and Bondsman
XIII. The Horse Trade
XIV. Bondsman's Decision
XV. John and Demijohn
XVI. Play
XVII. Down the Wind
XVIII. A Piece of Paper
XIX. The Fight in the Open
XX. City Folks
XXI. A Slim Whip of a Girl
XXII. A Tune for Uncle Bud
XXIII. Like One Who Sleeps
XXIV. The Genial Bud
XXV. The Little Fires
XXVI. Idle Noon
XXVII. Waco
XXVIII. A Squared Account
XXIX. Bud's Conscience
XXX. In the Hills
XXXI. In the Pines
XXXII. Politics
XXXIII. The Fires of Home
XXXIV. Young Life
XXXV. The High Trail

Illustrations
Waring of Sonora-Town
A huddled shape near a boulder
"I came over--to tell you--that it was Pat's gun"
They made coffee and ate the sandwiches she had prepared
_From drawings by E. Boyd Smith_

TANG OF LIFE

Chapter I
_The Ca?on_
Waring picketed his horse in a dim angle of the Agua Fria Ca?on, spread his saddle-blanket to dry in the afternoon sun, and, climbing to a narrow ledge, surveyed the ca?on from end to end with a pair of high-power glasses. He knew the men he sought would ride south. He was reasonably certain that they would not ride through the ca?on in daylight. The natural trail through the Agua Fria was along the western wall; a trail that he had avoided, working his toilsome way down the eastern side through a labyrinth of brush and rock that had concealed him from view. A few hundred yards below his hasty camp a sandy arroyo crossed the ca?on's mouth.
He had planned to intercept the men where the trail crossed this arroyo, or, should the trail show pony tracks, to follow them into the desert beyond, where, sooner or later, he would overtake them. They had a start of twelve hours, but Waring reasoned that they would not do much riding in daylight. The trail at the northern end of the ca?on had shown no fresh tracks that morning. His problem was simple. The answer would be definite. He returned to the shelter of the brush, dropped the glasses into a saddle-pocket, and stretched himself wearily.
A few yards below him, on a brush-dotted level, his horse, Dexter, slowly circled his picket and nibbled at the scant bunch-grass. The western sun trailed long shadows across the ca?on; shadows that drifted imperceptibly farther and farther, spreading, commingling, softening the broken outlines of ledge and brush until the walled solitude was brimmed with dusk, save where a red shaft cleft the fast-fading twilight, burning like a great spotlight on a picketed horse and a man asleep, his head pillowed on a saddle.
As the dusk drew down, the horse ceased grazing, sniffed the coming night, and nickered softly. Waring rose and led the horse to water, and, returning, emptied half the grain in the morral on a blanket. Dex munched contentedly. When the horse had finished eating the grain, Waring picketed him in a fresh spot and climbed back to the ledge, where he sat watching the western wall of the ca?on, occasionally glancing up as some dim star burned through the deepening dusk and bloomed to a silvery maturity.
Presently a faint pallor