Ranson's Folly
Davis, Richard Harding, 1864-1916
English
We will print you a perfectly bound paperback of your selected title and send it to you at your nominated address
Below is a summary of Ranson's Folly
This eBook was produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team.
RANSON'S FOLLY
BY
RICHARD HARDING DAVIS
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
Frederic Remington, Walter Appleton Clark,
Howard Chandler Christy, E.M. Ashe
& F. Dorr Steele
CONTENTS
RANSOM'S FOLLY
Illustrated by Frederic Remington.
THE BAR SINISTER
Illustrated by E.M. Ashe.
A DERELICT
Illustrated by Walter Appleton Clark.
LA LETTRE D'AMOUR
Illustrated by Howard Chandler Christy.
IN THE FOG
Illustrated by Frederic Dorr Steele.
ILLUSTRATIONS
"Throw up your hands," he commanded.
Ranson faced the door, spinning the revolver around his fourth
finger.
"I suppose I'm the ugliest bull-dog in America".
"Miss Dorothy snatches me up and kisses me between the ears."
"We've got a great story! We want a clear wire."
He played to the empty chair.
The men around the table turned and glanced toward the gentleman in
front of the fireplace.
"What was the object of your plot?"
RANSON'S FOLLY
PART I
The junior officers of Fort Crockett had organized a mess at the
post-trader's. "And a mess it certainly is," said Lieutenant Ranson.
The dining-table stood between hogsheads of molasses and a blazing
log-fire, the counter of the store was their buffet, a pool-table
with a cloth, blotted like a map of the Great Lakes, their sideboard,
and Indian Pete acted as butler. But none of these things counted
against the great fact that each evening Mary Cahill, the daughter of
the post-trader, presided over the evening meal, and turned it into a
banquet. From her high chair behind the counter, with the cash-
register on her one side and the weighing-scales on the other, she
gave her little Senate laws, and smiled upon each and all with the
kind impartiality of a comrade.
At least, at one time she had been impartial. But of late she smiled
upon all save Lieutenant Ranson. When he talked, she now looked at
the blazing log-fire, and her cheeks glowed and her eyes seemed to
reflect the lifting flame.
For five years, ever since her father brought her from the convent at
St. Louis, Mary Cahill had watched officers come and officers go. Her
knowledge concerning them, and their public and private affairs, was
vast and miscellaneous. She was acquainted with the traditions of
every regiment, with its war record, with its peace-time politics,
its nicknames, its scandals, even with the earnings of each company-
Back