The Relocation of Montana Creek

By Samuel Alexander White

"The Relocation of Montana Creek" is a western adventure tale featuring Eric Sark and Tom Bassett, friends and partners trying to survive and succeed in American Northwest. When they learn about a plan for relocation of Montana Creek by some shady politicians Sark and Bassett find themselves in a tight end and must resort to unwanted means in order to stay on top of the situation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: DigiCat
• Release date: Jun 13, 2022
• ISBN: 8596547066354

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Samuel Alexander White

The Relocation of Montana Creek

EAN 8596547066354

DigiCat, 2022

Contact: [e-mail]

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GO ON and drop that moose, Bassett! Eric Sark urged his partner. Your deliberateness is sure exasperating, and there's a dog-team sifting up Indian River this lurid minute. Drop him, I say, or that outfit’ll scare him skin-bald clean up to the Clear Lake country!

Don’t fluster yourself, pardner! retorted Tom Bassett, who, hidden in a spruce clump half-way between Montana and Eureka Creeks, had his quarry marked down three hundred yards away across a little cañon. He’s got to take another step before I shoot. Thar’s only his head and bell visible, and moose ain’t so plentiful in the Indian River districk this Winter that a man kin afford to miss one. That dog-team’ll be Burge Kivre’s comin’ up from Dawson City. It was jist about here we spoke him goin’ down day before yesterday. Burge is a wise guy, all right. You wave your hand and he’ll stop.

Sark crawled out on his belly to the riverbank and waved to the flying Kivre for a halt. The latter caught the signal. He threw his weight back upon the gee-pole, brought his dogs to a sudden stop and geed them swiftly around toward the bank.

Say, boys— he shouted.

And Bassett’s rifle cracked. For at the sound of Kivre’s voice the moose had taken, not a step, but a twelve-foot jump forward.

Tarnation! apologized Kivre. I didn’t know that was the play. Did you get him, Tom?

Sure did, grinned Bassett, still holding his rifle at the ready and watching the snow fly up in the death-wallow three hundred yards away. Fair back of the shoulder! But you nearly unflapped the flapjacks, Burge!

It was plumb careless of me. But when Eric waved at me, I wasn’t thinking about game. I was thinking about yourselves. I been watching for you all along to give you the hint. Wasn’t it on Montana Creek you told me the other day you staked a claim?

Montana Creek, yes, replied Sark. We staked one claim in Tom’s name. That’s why we wanted the moose so bad. We’re all out of grub, and we needed the meat to stay on and prove her up. I haven’t surrendered my rights in the valley yet, but if she shows as much as we have reason to believe she will I’ll stake another in my own name.

No, you won’t, informed Kivre pointedly. That’s what I wanted to tell you. There’s a stampede on Montana, and she’s overflowing to the bench grounds with men. They heeled me out of Dawson and passed me as if I was sitting at bacon and beans. The creek was plumb plastered when I swung by.

Ding-blast it! ejaculated Bassett. Who in blazes put ’em wise to Montana?

"I didn’t. You boys confided in me offhand like and never imposed any oaths of secrecy on me, but I tell you straight I didn’t articulate an artless sound. Still, the word’s come out of nowhere as it always does, rising like the mist in the