Man Size, by William MacLeod 
Raine 
 
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Title: Man Size 
Author: William MacLeod Raine 
Release Date: December 8, 2003 [eBook #10404] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAN 
SIZE*** 
E-text prepared by Kevin Handy, Dave Maddock, Josephine Paolucci, 
and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team 
 
MAN-SIZE 
BY
WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE 
AUTHOR OF 
THE BIG-TOWN ROUND UP, 
OH, YOU TEX! ETC 
1922 
 
TO 
CAPTAIN SIR CECIL E. DENNY, BART. 
OF THE FIRST THREE HUNDRED RIDERS OF THE PLAINS 
WHO CARRIED LAW INTO THE LONE LANDS 
AND MADE THE SCARLET AND GOLD 
A SYNONYM FOR 
JUSTICE, INTEGRITY, AND INDOMITABLE PLUCK 
 
CONTENTS 
I. IN THE DANGER ZONE 
II. THE AMAZON 
III. ANGUS McRAE DOES HIS DUTY 
IV. THE WOLFERS 
V. MORSE JUMPS UP TROUBLE 
VI. "SOMETHING ABOUT THESE GUYS"
VII. THE MAN IN THE SCARLET JACKET 
VIII. AT SWEET WATER CREEK 
IX. TOM MAKES A COLLECTION 
X. A CAMP-FIRE TALE 
XI. C.N. MORSE TURNS OVER A LEAF 
XII. TOM DUCKS TROUBLE 
XIII. THE CONSTABLE BORES THROUGH DIFFICULTIES 
XIV. SCARLET-COATS IN ACTION 
XV. KISSING DAY 
XVI. A BUSINESS DEAL 
XVII. A BOARD CREAKS 
XVIII. A GUN ROARS 
XIX. "D' YOU WONDER SHE HATES ME?" 
XX. ONISTAH READS SIGN 
XXI. ON THE FRONTIER OF DESPAIR 
XXII. "MY DAMN PRETTY LI'L' HIGH-STEPPIN' SQUAW" 
XXIII. A FORETASTE OF HELL 
XXIV. WEST MAKES A DECISION 
XXV. FOR THE WEE LAMB LOST 
XXVI. A RESCUE
XXVII. APACHE STUFF 
XXVIII. "IS A' WELL WI' YOU, LASS?" 
XXIX. NOT GOING ALONE 
XXX. "M" FOR MORSE 
XXXI. THE LONG TRAIL 
XXXII. A PICTURE IN A LOCKET 
XXXIII. INTO THE LONE LAND 
XXXIV. THE MAN-HUNTERS READ SIGN 
XXXV. SNOW-BLIND 
XXXVI. THE WILD BEAST LEAPS 
XXXVII. NEAR THE END OF A LONG CROOKED TRAIL 
XXXVIII. OVER A ROTTING TRAIL 
XXXIX. A CREE RUNNER BRINGS NEWS 
XL. "MALBROUCK S'EN VA-T-EN GUERRE" 
XLI. SENSE AND NONSENSE 
XLII. THE IMPERATIVE URGE 
CHAPTER I 
IN THE DANGER ZONE 
She stood on the crown of the hill, silhouetted against a sky-line of 
deepest blue. Already the sun was sinking in a crotch of the plains 
which rolled to the horizon edge like waves of a great land sea. Its
reflected fires were in her dark, stormy eyes. Its long, slanted rays were 
a spotlight for the tall, slim figure, straight as that of a boy. 
The girl's gaze was fastened on a wisp of smoke rising lazily from a 
hollow of the crumpled hills. That floating film told of a camp-fire of 
buffalo chips. There was a little knitted frown of worry on her forehead, 
for imagination could fill in details of what the coulée held: the white 
canvas tops of prairie schooners, some spans of oxen grazing near, a 
group of blatant, profane whiskey-smugglers from Montana, and in the 
wagons a cargo of liquor to debauch the Bloods and Piegans near Fort 
Whoop-Up. 
Sleeping Dawn was a child of impulse. She had all youth's capacity for 
passionate indignation and none of the wisdom of age which tempers 
the eager desire of the hour. These whiskey-traders were ruining her 
people. More than threescore Blackfeet braves had been killed within 
the year in drunken brawls among themselves. The plains Indians 
would sell their souls for fire-water. When the craze was on them, they 
would exchange furs, buffalo robes, ponies, even their wives and 
daughters for a bottle of the poison. 
In the sunset glow she stood rigid and resentful, one small fist clenched, 
the other fast to the barrel of the rifle she carried. The evils of the trade 
came close to her. Fergus McRae still carried the gash from a knife 
thrust earned in a drunken brawl. It was likely that to-morrow he would 
cut the trail of the wagon wheels and again make a bee-line for liquor 
and trouble. The swift blaze of revolt found expression in the stamp of 
her moccasined foot. 
As dusk fell over the plains, Sleeping Dawn moved forward lightly, 
swiftly, toward the camp in the hollow of the hills. She had no definite 
purpose except to spy the lay-out, to make sure that her fears were 
justified. But through the hinterland of her consciousness rebellious 
thoughts were racing. These smugglers were wholly outside the law. It 
was her right to frustrate them if she could. 
Noiselessly she skirted the ridge above the coulée, moving through the 
bunch grass with the wary care she had learned as a child in the lodges
of the tribe. 
Three men crouched on their heels in the glow    
    
		
	
	
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