Crammed With Adventures

Auckland Star, Volume LXX, Issue 99, 29 April 1939, Page 10 (Supplement)

Crammed With Adventures

Books In Review

YOUNG and old crave thrills and stingo ' in their reading for relaxation, and the modern girl is in no way behind the boy in her liking for the adventurous touch in literature. This taste is too often satisfied by a reading of th e most meretricious kind of cheap-jack magazines. Now and again, however, a story appears of which it can at once be said: "Thin if, I h<< ri'H I tiling; it is p;oo<l s 111 IT in even w»\ Here comes a hook of t hit wildest ji rid hii rde»t kind of lif <■ which ill I lie -.Mile I line is a I Iniroiighl V hen It 11 \ ■ s-loiy. -Cold Nil-get Chiirlie" (Hnrrnpl is n in i>i■>dru niit t ii- title, lint, tin* mill,line of ii during mid dangerous enreer jtinlilies I lie mime many times over. II i« I lie lil'e nurnilive of ClnirlcH 10. Musnon, « Inwe spacious hunting ground i< (lie Arctic goldmining count rv, where lie is -I ill on I lie «n, It, i* compiled I'l'om Ilis 114 ft cs liy KriIUCCH l/loydOwcn. ol' \ aiicoii\<-r. Mere in nonicl liilie I lint comliines the liijrlilijj-lil s of Wild VVc«l. roving nnd #1 Sf ht.i 11 if with the lent less eenrcli for gold In the frozen wnslcs of the Klondike and tho Yukon, nnd the most amazing endurance of hardships that confront th* treasure hunter. Charlie MiiMton run away from hit* liomo in Mil! timo re in 1H74, when he was \'£ year* old. lie struck West and North, and from that, time on he fended for himdelf. He played a mail's part while he was still just "a hit of a kid."' fie tended horses in a western frontier fort, lie fought Indian*, he lieeame a tr it tin pm irie mail rider. In- was captured by Indians and escaped again. lie worked in Colorado mine«, lie Inid a hltiter experience of the sea ill an Arctic whaler. Then he look to the great, gold trail in Alaxka, with its desperate hazards and it* terrible cold. Me made fortunes and lost tliein again. Me sledged alone to the Arctic coast, through immense solitudes, always sustained l»y the dauntless heart and perpetual hop# of tho treasure seeker.

All kinds of liold nnd heroic characters ii in I nil kinds of ri i llin 11 -» come into the story. The <.'(*>< l element predominates, it must I*' su ill: there are countless examples of 1 tie generous and the lieroic sdfsiicrilicing. Most, renin rkalile of all is tlinl celehrity of the wildest West, t ii In in it y .lane. Charlie Massons meeting with her—she "got the drop" on him — is ii little thriller in itself.

Hiding with the mails from Fort Brule towards the Black Hills, Charlie, then a hoy of 1(5, was chased by Indians. Outdistancing them, he halted after midnight, to snatch a few hours' sleep. He tied up his three horses and lay down near a small stream, with his "face to the east so that the iirst rays. of the sun would awaken him. "Presently," says the narrative, "he seemed to dream that someone was speaking close to him, saving. 'Poor boy! Fast asleep with his rifle still under his arm!' The voice roused him and he wakened completely. A woman—a white woman—dressed in the costume of a frontiersman was watching him. Sunlight gleamed 011 the barrel of the heavy gun which she held aimed steadily in Charlie Masson's direction. "'You are covered,' she said, seeing that the boy was awake. 'Lay down your rifle.' " 'No. You are covered, too. I can shoot from the hip with this.' "Suddenly the woman laughed. 'Can you?' she said. 'You should always shoot from the right hip; you can make a better job of it.' "Charlie flushed, for he knew that his rifle lay in such an awkvrard position that it would not have been easy to carry out his threat. The woman put down her weapon and came towards him. 'How about some breakfast?' she asked calmly. 'I'm going to have mine now.' "The West had already accustomed Charlie to weird and unexpected situations. 'All right,' he agreed as matter--of-fact as the woman herself. " 'Get some water from the creek then. I'll build the fire.' "Clutching his rifle the boy picked up the pail which lay near by and set off towards the creek. "'Why take your rifle?' the woman called after him. 'You don't need it to get water.' " '.Might be Indians about.' "'Or is it me you are afraid of?" again she laughed and commenced prejMiring a camp-fire. Charlie paid no attention to her remark, but walked

away in the direction of the creek. As he went he saw her looking: after him thoughtfully, but quite good-naturedly. In the barrel of his rifle, set near the sight, was a tiny mirror which showed her reflection, and it was this which enabled liini so confidently to turn his bark on a stranger. It was not long before he returned from the creek and found the breakfast going forward briskly. " 'You weren't quite sure if you could trust me,' the woman said, as she took the bucket from him. 'But you did a very foolish thing just the same. You turned your back. And my rifle was lying there. I could have shot you then if I had wanted to.' " 'You could not have shot me," Charlie said, 'I was watching you.' And lie showed her the reflector. "'Oh!' She was evidently surprised at the arrangement of the rifle. 'That's a very good idea. So it was me you were afraid of, and not Indians, when you went to the creek. Well, breakfast is ready. Come and have some. And be sure to keep your rifle in eight!'" That was the young plainsman's introduction to the strangest type of Westerner. She told hiin. after inquiring his name, that she was Calamity •lane. Already she was f,amou& in the Mack llills. Left at an early age to the care of the miners, ehe had been brought up to all the accomplishments of frontier life —to ride and shoot and to equal even the Indians in tracking. She was a scout, and she hunted for horse thieves; she was wise in all Indian lore. He left her when Deadwood was reached and started on his long and perilous ride back to Fort Brule. All kinds of wild characters and many line comrades come into the story as Masson makes his way into the icy north and wins the nickname of "Gold Nugget Charlie." But the book must be read; there is an adventure to pretty well every page. A capital book of the real things in the manly life; nothing better for a gift to the young—or old— Colonial.