The Rules of the Game

The Rules of the Game, by
Stewart Edward White

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Title: The Rules of the Game
Author: Stewart Edward White
Release Date: August 16, 2004 [EBook #13194]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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[Illustration: He worked desperately. The heat of the flames began to
scorch his face and hands]

THE RULES OF THE GAME
BY
STEWART EDWARD WHITE
1910
ILLUSTRATED BY LEJAREN A. HILLER

1909, 1910, BY JAMES HORSBURGH, JR
1910, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
PUBLISHED, OCTOBER, 1910

AUTHOR'S NOTE
The geography in this novel may easily be recognized by one familiar
with the country. For that reason it is necessary to state that the
characters therein are in no manner to be confused with the people
actually inhabiting and developing that locality. The Power Company
promoted by Baker has absolutely nothing to do with any Power
Company utilizing any streams: the delectable Plant never exercised
his talents in Sierra North. The author must decline to acknowledge
any identifications of the sort. Plant and Baker and all the rest are,
however, only to a limited extent fictitious characters. What they did
and what they stood for is absolutely true.

ILLUSTRATIONS
He worked desperately. The heat of the flames began to scorch his face
and hands.

The men calmly withdrew the long ribbon of steel and stood to one
side.
"I beg pardon," said he. The girl turned.
Bob found it two hours' journey down.

PART ONE

I
Late one fall afternoon, in the year 1898, a train paused for a moment
before crossing a bridge over a river. From it descended a heavy-set,
elderly man. The train immediately proceeded on its way.
The heavy-set man looked about him. The river and the bottom-land
growths of willow and hardwood were hemmed in, as far as he could
see, by low-wooded hills. Only the railroad bridge, the steep
embankment of the right-of-way, and a small, painted, windowless
structure next the water met his eye as the handiwork of man. The
windowless structure was bleak, deserted and obviously locked by a
strong padlock and hasp. Nevertheless, the man, throwing on his
shoulder a canvas duffle-bag with handles, made his way down the
steep railway embankment, across a plank over the ditch, and to the
edge of the water. Here he dropped his bag heavily, and looked about
him with an air of comical dismay.
The man was probably close to sixty years of age, but florid and
vigorous. His body was heavy and round; but so were his arms and legs.
An otherwise absolutely unprepossessing face was rendered most
attractive by a pair of twinkling, humorous blue eyes, set far apart.
Iron-gray hair, with a tendency to curl upward at the ends, escaped
from under his hat. His movements were slow and large and
purposeful.

He rattled the padlock on the boathouse, looked at his watch, and sat
down on his duffle-bag. The wind blew strong up the river; the baring
branches of the willows whipped loose their yellow leaves. A dull,
leaden light stole up from the east as the afternoon sun lost its strength.
By the end of ten minutes, however, the wind carried with it the creak
of rowlocks. A moment later a light, flat duck-boat shot around the
bend and drew up at the float.
"Well, Orde, you confounded old scallywattamus," remarked the man
on the duffle-bag, without moving, "is this your notion of meeting a
train?"
The oarsman moored his frail craft and stepped to the float. He was
about ten years the other's junior, big of frame, tanned of skin, clear of
eye, and also purposeful of movement.
"This boathouse," he remarked incisively, "is the property of the Maple
County Duck Club. Trespassers will be prosecuted. Get off this float."
Then they clasped hands and looked at each other.
"It's surely like old times to see you again, Welton," Orde broke the
momentary silence. "It's been--let's see--fifteen years, hasn't it? How's
Minnesota?"
"Full of ducks," stated Welton emphatically, "and if you haven't
anything but mud hens and hell divers here, I'm going to sue you for
getting me here under false pretences. I want ducks."
"Well, I'll get the keeper to shoot you some," replied Orde, soothingly,
"or you can come out and see me kill 'em