The Long Shadow

B.M. Bower
The Long Shadow

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Title: The Long Shadow
Author: B. M. Bower
Release Date: April 29, 2004 [EBook #12192]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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SHADOW ***

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THE LONG SHADOW

BY B.M. BOWER

(B.M. SINCLAIR)

ILLUSTRATIONS BY CLARENCE ROWE

COPYRIGHT, 1908

TO THOSE WHO HAVE WATCHED THE SHADOW FALL UPON
THE RANGE.

CONTENTS
I Charming Billy Has a Visitor
II Prune Pie and Coon-can
III Charming Billy Has a Fight
IV Canned
V The Man From Michigan
VI "That's My Dill Pickle!"
VII "Till Hell's a Skating-rink"
VIII Just a Day-dream
IX The "Double-Crank"
X The Day We Celebrate
XI "When I Lift My Eyebrows This Way"
XII Dilly Hires a Cook

XIII Billy Meets the Pilgrim
XIV A Winter at the Double-Crank
XV The Shadow Falls Lightly
XVI Self-Defense
XVII The Shadow Darkens
XVIII When the North Wind Blows
XIX "I'm Not Your Wife Yet!"
XX The Shadow Lies Long
XXI The End of the Double-Crank
XXII Settled In Full
XXIII "Oh, Where Have You Been, Charming Billy?"

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"I'll leave you this, you'll feel safer if you have a gun"
"Hands off that long person! That there's my dill pickle"
"We--we're 'up against it,' as fellows say"
For every sentence a stinging blow with the flat of his hand
[Illustration: "I'LL LEAVE YOU THIS, YOU'LL FEEL SAFER IF
YOU HAVE A GUN." Frontispiece.]
CHAPTER I.
Charming Billy Has a Visitor.

The wind, rising again as the sun went down, mourned lonesomely at
the northwest corner of the cabin, as if it felt the desolateness of the
barren, icy hills and the black hollows between, and of the angry red
sky with its purple shadows lowering over the unhappy land--and
would make fickle friendship with some human thing. Charming Billy,
hearing the crooning wail of it, knew well the portent and sighed.
Perhaps he, too, felt something of the desolateness without and perhaps
he, too, longed for some human companionship.
He sent a glance of half-conscious disapproval around the untidy cabin.
He had been dreaming aimlessly of a place he had seen not so long ago;
a place where the stove was black and shining, with a fire crackling
cheeringly inside and a teakettle with straight, unmarred spout and
dependable handle singing placidly to itself and puffing steam with an
air of lazy comfort, as if it were smoking a cigarette. The stove had
stood in the southwest corner of the room, and the room was warm with
the heat of it; and the floor was white and had a strip of rag carpet
reaching from the table to a corner of the stove. There was a red cloth
with knotted fringe on the table, and a bed in another corner had a
red-and-white patchwork spread and puffy white pillows. There had
been a woman--but Charming Billy shut his eyes, mentally, to the
woman, because he was not accustomed to them and he was not at all
sure that he wanted to be accustomed; they did not fit in with the life he
lived. He felt dimly that, in a way, they were like the heaven his mother
had taught him--altogether perfect and altogether unattainable and not
to be thought of with any degree of familiarity. So his memory of the
woman was indistinct, as of something which did not properly belong
to the picture. He clung instead to the memory of the warm stove, and
the strip of carpet, and the table with the red cloth, and to the puffy,
white pillows on the bed.
The wind mourned again insistently at the corner. Billy lifted his head
and looked once more around the cabin. The reality was
depressing--doubly depressing in contrast to the memory of that other
room. A stove stood in the southwest corner, but it was not black and
shining; it was rust-red and ash-littered, and the ashes had overflowed
the hearth and spilled to the unswept floor. A dented lard-pail without a

handle did meagre duty as a teakettle, and balanced upon a corner of
the stove was a dirty frying pan. The fire had gone dead and the room
was chill with the rising of the wind. The table was filled with empty
cans and tin plates and cracked, oven-stained bowls and iron-handled
knives and forks, and the bunk
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