THE LURE OF THE DIM TRAILS

By B. M. Bower



CHAPTER I

IN SEARCH OF THE WESTERN TONE

"What do you care, anyway?" asked Reeve-Howard philosophically.
"It isn't as if you depended on the work for a living. Why
worry over the fact that a mere pastime fails to be financially
a success. You don't need to write--"

"Neither do you need to slave over those dry-point things,"
Thurston retorted, in none the best humor with his comforter
"You've an income bigger than mine; yet you toil over
Grecian-nosed women with untidy hair as if each one meant a meal
and a bed"

"A meal and a bed--that's good; you must think I live like a
king."

"And I notice you hate like the mischief to fail, even though."

"Only I never have failed," put in Reeve-Howard, with the amused
complacency born of much adulation.

Thurston kicked a foot-rest out of his way. "Well, I have. The