Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. THE LAND OF FROZEN SUNS A Novel BY BERTRAND W. SINCLAIR Author of “Raw Gold,” Etc. Copyright 1909, BY STREET & SMITH. Copyright, 1910, BY G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY. The Land of Frozen Suns. Made in U. S. A. Contents · CHAPTER I—THE GENESIS OF TROUBLE · CHAPTER II—BY WAY OF THE “NEW MOON” · CHAPTER III—WHICH SHOWS THAT THE WORM DOES NOT ALWAYS TURN · CHAPTER IV—A FORTHRIGHT FIGHTING-MAN · CHAPTER V—THE RELATIVE MERITS OF THE FRYING-PAN AND THE FIRE · CHAPTER VI—SLOWFOOT GEORGE · CHAPTER VII—THE SEAT OF THE SCORNFUL · CHAPTER VIII—BY WAYS THAT WERE DARK · CHAPTER IX—MR. MONTELL · CHAPTER X—“THERE’S MONEY IN IT” · CHAPTER XI—A TRICK OF THE “TRADE.” · CHAPTER XII—THE FIRST MOVE · CHAPTER XIII—A FORETASTE OF STRONG MEASURES · CHAPTER XIV—INTEREST ON A DEBT · CHAPTER XV—STRANGERS TWAIN · CHAPTER XVI—CLAWS UNSHEATHED · CHAPTER XVII—NINE POINTS OF THE LAW · CHAPTER XVIII—THE LONG ARM OF THE COMPANY · CHAPTER XIX—THE STRENGTH OF MEN—AND THEIR WEAKNESS CHAPTER I—THE GENESIS OF TROUBLE Who was it, I wonder, made that sagacious remark about the road to hell being paved with good intentions? He might have added an amendment to the effect that there’s always a plentiful supply of material for that much travelled highway. We all contribute, more or less. I know I have done so. And so did my people before me. My father’s intentions were good, but he didn’t live long enough to carry them out. If he hadn’t fallen a victim to an inborn streak of recklessness, a habit of taking chances,—well, I can’t say just how things would have panned out. I’m not fatalist enough to believe that we crawl or run or soar through our allotted span of years according to some prearranged scheme which we are powerless to modify. Oh, no! It’s highly probable, however, that if my father and mother had lived I should have gone into some commercial pursuit or taken up one of the professions. Either way, I should likely have pegged along in an uneventful sort of way to the end of the chapter—lots of men do. Not that I would have taken with enthusiasm to chasing the nimble dollar for the pure love of catching it, but because I was slated for something of the sort, and as the twig is bent so is the tree inclined; a man can’t sit down and twiddle his thumbs and refuse to perform any useful act, because there is no glory in it. The heroic age has gone a-glimmering down the corridors of time.