The Derelict Link Ferris was a fighter. Not by nature, nor by choice, but to keep alive. His battleground covered an area of forty acres—broken, scrubby, uncertain side-hill acres, at that. In brief, a worked-out farm among the mountain slopes of the North Jersey hinterland; six miles from the nearest railroad. The farm was Ferris's, by right of sole heritage from his father, a Civil-War veteran, who had taken up the wilderness land in... more...

PART ITHE CUBHOOD OF WAHB       I e was born over a score of years ago, away up in the wildest part of the wild West, on the head of the Little Piney, above where the Palette Ranch is now. His Mother was just an ordinary Silvertip, living the quiet life that all Bears prefer, minding her own business and doing her duty by her family, asking no favors of any one excepting to let her alone. It was July before she took her... more...