（
慢慢仙途）（
绝色斗魂师：战神狂妃）（
魔君宠舞）（
剑道独尊）（
劫修传）
www.yzyouth.comthe big motor car waitedthe station, and frederick travers thrilledhe always thrilledthe distant lootive whistlethe train plunging down the valleyisaac traverall westering white men, had isaac travers gazedthat splendid valley, its salmon laden waters, its rich bottoms, and its virgin fores seen,had grasped and never let go.“land poor,” they had called himthe mid settler period.
but that had beenthe days when the placers petered out, when there werewagon roads nor tugsdrawsailing vessels across the perilous bar, and when his lonely grist mill had been run under armed guardskeep the marauding klamaths off while wheatfather, like son, and what isaac travers had grasped, frederick travershad been the same tenacitad beenhad foreseen the transformationthe utter west, the ingthe railroad, and the buildingthe new empirethe pacific shore.
frederick travers thrilled, too,the lootive whistle, because, more than any man’s,wasfather had died still strivingbring the railroadacross the mountains that averageundred thousand dollarsth, frederick, had had satnights over that railroad; bought newspapers, entered politics, and subsidised party machines; andhad made pilgrimages, more than once,his own expense,the railroad chiefsthe east.
while all the county knew how many mileshis land were crossedthe rightway, nonethe county guessed nor dreamed the numberhis dollars which had gone into guaranties and railroa had done much for his county, and the railroad was his last and greatest achievement, the capstonethe travers’ effort, the momentous and marvellous thing that had been brought about jus had been running two years, and, highest proofallhis judgment, dividends werarther reaching reward waas writtenthe books that the next governorcalifornia wasbe spelled, frederick a. travers.
twenty years had passed sincehad seen his elder brother, and thenhad been afteapte remembered that nigh was the only man who dared run the barthe dark, and that last time, between nightfall and the dawn, witoutheaster breezing up,had sailed his schoonerandhad beenwarninghis inlatterhoofsmidnight, a lathered horsethe stable, and tom had appeared, the saltthe seahis facehis mother attested.
an hour onlyremained, anda fresh horse was gone, while rain squalls rattled upon the windows and the rising wind moaned through the redwoods, the memoryhis visihiff, sharp and strong, from the wild oute later, sea hammered and bar bound for that time, had arrived the revenue cutter bear, and there had beeolumnconjecturethe local paper, hintsa heavy landingopium anda vain quest for the mysterious schoone fred and his mother, and the several house indians, knewthe stiffened horsethe barn andthe devious waywas afterward smuggled backthe fishing villagethe beach.
despite those twenty years,was the same old tom travers that alighted fromhis brother’s eyes,did not loowaanama hat did not hide the grey hair, and though indefinably hintingshrunkenness, the broad shoulders were still broadfor the young woman with him, frederick travers experiencedimmediate shoceltvitally, yet vaguely.
it wahallenge anock, yetcould not name nor place the might have been the dress,tailored linen and foreign cut, the shirtwaist, with its daring stripe, the black wilfulnessthe hair,the flauntpoppiesthe large straw hatit might have been the flash and colourher the black eyes and brows, the flamerosethe cheeks, the whitethe even teeth that showed too readily.“a spoiled child,” was his thought, buthadtimeanalyse, for his brother’s hand washis andwas making his niece’s acquaintance.
therewa flashed and talked like her colour, and she talked with her handould not avoid noting the smallnesere absurdly small, and his eyes wenther feetmake the sam obliviousthe curious crowdthe station platform, she had intercepted his attemptleadthe motor car and had ranged the brothers sidad been laughingly acquiescent, but his younger brother was illease, too consciousthe many eyeshi knew only the old purita displays were for the privacythe family, not forwas glad she had not attemptedkis was remarkable shehe apprehended anythingher.
she embraced them and perated them with sun warm eyes that seemedsee through them, and over them, and all about them.
“you’re really brothers,” she cried, her hands flashing with her eyes.“anybody can see it.and yet therea differencon’’t explain.”
in truth, witact that exceeded frederick travers’ farthest disciplined forbearance, she did not dar wide artist eyes had seen and sensed the whole trenchant and essentia they looked,the unmistakable same stock, their features reminiscenta mon origin; and there resemblanc was three inches taller, and well greyed was the long, vikin was the same eagle like nosehis brother’s, save thatwas more eagle like, while the blue eyes were pronouncedly so.the linesthe face were deeper, the cheek bones higher, the hollows larger, the weather beat darker.
it waolcani had been fire there, and the fire stil the cornersthe eyes were more laughter wrinkles andthe eyes themselveromisedeadlier seriousness than the younger brothe was bourgeoishis carriage, buttom’s waertain careless easewas the same pioneer bloodisaac traversboth men, buthad been retortedwidely differen represented the straight and expected linrother expresseast and intangible something that was unknownthe traverwas all this that the black eyed girl saw and knewth that had been inexplicablethe two men and their relationship clearedin the moment she saw them sideside.
“wakeup,” tom was saying.“i can’t believrrived the population? there were only four thousand thirty years ago.”
“sixty thousand now,” was the other’s answer.“and increasingleapsto spin around foookthe city?there’s plentytime.”
as they sped along the broad, well paved streets, tom persistedhis rip van winkl waterfront perplexehad once anchored his sloopa dozen feetwater,found solid land and railroad yards, with wharves and shipping still farther out.
“hold on! stop!”cried, a few blocks on, lookingaolid business block.“wherethis, fred?”
“fourth and travers don’t you remember?”
tom stoodand gazed around, tryingdiscern the anciently familiar configurationthe land under its clutterbuildings.
“i ... i think....”began hesitantly.“no;gee, i’m usedhunt cottontails over that ground, and shoot blackbirdsth there, where the bank building is, waond.”he turnedpolly.“i builtfirst raft there, and gotfirst tastethe sea.”
“heaven knows how many gallonsit,” frederick laughed, noddingthe chauffeur.“they rolled youa barrel, i remember.”
“oh! more!” polly cried, clapping her hands.
“there’s the park,” frederick pointed ouittle later, indicatinassvirgin redwoodsthe first dipthe bigger hills.
“father shot three grizzlies there one afternoon,” was tom’s remark.
“i presented forty acresitthe city,” frederick went on.“father bought the quarter section foollaracre from leroy.”
tom nodded, and the sparkle and flashhis eyes, like thathis daughter, were unlike anything that ever appearedhis brother’s eyes.
“yes,”affirmed, “leroy, the negr the timecarried you andon his backalliance, the night the indians burnedstayed behind and fought.”
“butcouldn’t save the gris waerious setbackhim.”
“just the samenailed four indians.”
in polly’s eyes now appeared the flash and sparkle.
“an indian fighter!” she cried.“tellabout him.”
“tell her about travers ferry,” tom said.
“that’errythe klamath riverthe wayorleans barwas great packing into the diggingsthose days, and, among other things, father had madocatio was rich bench farming land, too.he builuspension bridge wove the cablesthe spot with sailors and materials freightedfromcost him twenty thousan first daywas open, eight hundred mules crosseda dollaead,say nothingthe toll for footnight the rive bridge was one hundred and forty feet above low wate the freshet rose higher than that, and swept the bridg’d have madortuhere otherwise.”
“that wasn’tat all,” tom blurted out impatiently.“it wastravers ferry that father and old jacob vance were caughta war partymad rive jacob was killed right outside the doorthedragged the body inside and stood the indians off for was som buried jacob under the cabin floor.”
“i still run the ferry,” frederick went on, “though there isn’tmuch travelin theby wagon roadthe reservation, and then mule backup the klamath and clearto the forkslittl twelve storesthat chain now, a stage lio the reservation, anotourist tradebeginningpick up.”
and the girl, with curious brooding eyes, looked from brotherbrothertheydifferently voiced themselves and life.
“ay,was some man, father was,” tom murmured.
there warowsy notehis speech that dreuick glanceanxiety fro machine had turned into the cemetery, and now halted beforubstantial vaultthe crestthe hill.
“i thought you’d likesee it,” frederick was saying.“i built that mausoleum myself, mostit withow wanted it.the estate was dreadfull best biould get outthe contractors was elevemyself foittle over eight.”
“must have worked nights,” tom murmured admiringly and more sleepily than before.
“i did, tom,nightlanteeconstructing the water works then the artesian wells had failed and mother’s eyes were troublin remember cataracrot was too weaktravel, anrought the specialistsfrom sa,hands wer just windingthe disastrous affairsthe steamer line father had establishedsan francisco, anas keepingthe interestmortgagesthe tuneone hundred and eighty thousand dollars.”
a soft stertorous breathing interrupte, chinchest, wa, witignificant look, caught her uncle’ her father, afteruneasy restless movement, lifted drowsy lids.
“deuced warm day,”said witright apologetic laugh.“i’ve been actuall’tnear home?”
frederick noddedthe chauffeur, and the car rolled on.
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