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Updated: August 6, 2024
His shoulders were broad and heavy, and even now, although not dressed for the saddle, there was an up-creeping in the legs of his trousers, and a gathering at the knees of them, for they were drawn down over his tall boots. That was Chadron's way of doing the nice thing when he went abroad in his buckboard.
It was one of February's freaks. It was hot. The white ghost of noon lay over shore and sea. Beneath her the city seemed to sleep gray and glistening. The tops of hills that rose above the up-creeping houses were misted green. Across the bay, along the northern shore, there was a pale green coast of hills dividing blue and blue.
A faint click went away on the night breeze, and a moment later three jets of flame carried warning to the up-creeping foe that the whites were both alive and on the alert. There was no more sleep within the barricade. The dawn grew into day, and anxious eyes scanned the trail for reinforcements coming surely, but on what heavy and slow-turning wheels! Noon came and passed.
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