EXCERPT: From The Legend of Old Faithful

With an aching heart, Gene watched Mildred walk defiantly away. He had wounded the girl he loved, and there was nothing he could do to heal the hurt . . . not after the foolish commitment he had made to JoAnn.
Mildred walked with head erect until the trees obscured her from his sight. Then she ran wildly up the mountain, pausing only to catch her breath, until she reached Old Faithful, a great pine tree near the mountaintop. Then she leaned against the old tree and wept.
When the first flush of her anger and grief were spent, she dried her eyes and looked up into the shadow heights of the tree. Far up she saw scars where lovers of other years had carved their initials in the bark, believing that the old tree's magic would insure their success with the one they loved. And starry-eyed girls, in those years, had hoped for the same results. A cynical smile, very unlike Mildred, twisted her lips. Long ago, when they were children, teasing, Gene had threatened to carve their initials in the bark of the old tree. Even then, she had been thrilled and had often fallen asleep at night wondering if he had carried out his threat and hoping that he had.
"It's well enough that he didn't," she cried fiercely to herself. "Old tree, I guess I'm not the first heartbroken girl to stand here and cry her heart out, and I guess I won't be the last, but I'm the one that's crying now. Do you hear me, old tree?" she had sobbed.

EXCERPT: from Out of the Night

Goliath stepped to the door, flung it open wide and with a huge hand shoved John aside. As John reeled toward the opposite wall, he saw the man stoop to enter the doorway. One moment his frame filled the opening, blocking out the light, and he turned sideways, struggling to enter, still wearing his snowshoes. Inside, he turned slowly around, blinking as his eyes grew accustomed to the subdued light in the cabin.
"What are you a-doin' here?" he asked again in a voice that rattled the windowpanes. "You hain't no trapper. You're nothin' but a tenderfoot." He turned inquiring black eyes on John. "You hain't told me what you're a-doin' here," he said in a demanding voice, and his heavily bearded lips curled and his black eyes narrowed under bushy brows.
"I-I came-came here to get-get my bearings, to-to find myself," John stammered, in spite of all efforts to appear calm.
The big man slapped himself on the thigh and laughed until the cabin vibrated. "You'll find yourself dead 'fore this winter's over," he said. "This hain't no country for no tenderfoot.
"You seen my woman?" he asked, changing the subject.
"What makes you think I could have seen her in the blizzard we had last night?" he asked, hoping to avoid a direct answer.
"I been told she headed this way, and this is the only cabin up here. If she didn't make hit this far, she's dead, but I didn't find her on the trail... could have wandered off in the mountains, I reckon," he continued as much to himself as to John, as he continued to look around the room.
"What's that blanket stretched across that corner for?" he demanded, turning again to John.
"Just a place to bathe," he answered uneasily.
"Huh? Who you a-hidin' from when you wash yourself? 'fraid you'll see yourself?" His laughter shook the rafters, and the floor swayed as he crossed the room and, with one motion of his hand snapped the rawhide and swept the blanket aside. Mawana was a pitiful sight, kneeling in the corner, wringing her hands. As the giant took a step toward her, her hands went to her throat as if she would strangle herself.
"Now, hain't that purty. My woman a-hidin' behind a blanket. An' here with this little man." He turned to John. "I've a notion to break you in half an' throw you to the Huskies for breakfast. Have you bothered my woman since she's been here?"
"Oh, no, no, no, Goliath. He brought me in out of the storm and saved my life; that's all," Mawana cried. "Besides, I'm not your woman!"

EXCERPT: from Fathoms Deep

On a sultry June morning, tired, faint, and almost ill, I hurried along a drab, dirty street, overhung by tall old buildings that were angular and unattractive, even to my forgiving eyes. Smoke and coal dust from a passing train mingled with the odors of a nearby barbecue grill, and a street-sweeping machine came past, swirling up dust. With a feeling of revulsion, I turned away and tried to stop breathing until it had passed. Oh for a breath of fresh air and the quiet and peace of the country, I thought, as I pressed my hands over my ears to drown out the roar of traffic, and the jarring sounds of clanging boxcars in a switchyard not far away.
At the corner, a timeworn clock, hanging by a rusty iron frame from the Citizens National Bank, proclaimed with equally rusty hands that it was now past seven o'clock. With dismay, I realized that I was late again, and that dour old Mr. Mahaney would again glare his displeasure at me, through the thick lenses of his spectacles, when I reached the Palace Restaurant where I worked. . .
As I turned the corner, half a block from the restaurant, I thought how my life had changed since a very wretched day had come while my sister, Marlene, and I still lived at home with our parents. "That day," as we always referred to the event when Marlene was not present, had been the beginning of a series of events that had altered our lives forever. "That Day," had brought sorrow to Marlene, had crushed her, broken her, and made her ill. Then, while we were trying to see her through her dark days, Daddy had died quite suddenly, and Momma had died of grief, we thought, less than a year later.
That had left Marlene and me alone and penniless in the world. The little farm and all our possessions were sold to pay hospital and funeral expenses. After that, Marlene, who had never been one to cope with adversity, succeeded in making herself into the poor, fretful, complaining, semi-invalid she was today, and I had been obliged to assume the responsibility of making a living for both of us, sitting aside my high ambitions indefinitely.

EXCERPT: from Riverman

As May drove toward High Bridge the sun was shining, but the day seemed dismal, as if the sun were shrouded in a black fog. She saw only the strip of blacktop ahead of her, and at times her tears almost obscured that. Because of the 35 mph speed limit in force to conserve fuel for the war effort, she was on the road almost an hour.
May did not stop in High Bridge but turned on the road to Paul's house. The brakes screeched and the wheels crunched in the gravel as she slowed for the steep place on the hill. When she reached the bottom of the hill, she continued along the road that she had walked so happily that day-so long ago-before the war.
May soon saw the house and the barn. Then she reached the pathway that led to the house and parked on the side of the road. She heard Friend's challenging bark as she got out of the car. The sound awakened old memories, and she stopped and drew in her breath quickly as pain and pleasure struggled for mastery of her heart.
"Hello, Friend," she called.
Friend responded with two joyous yelps, and she heard his chain rattle as he tried to come to her. He misses Paul, she thought, and tears welled up in her eyes.
Friend barked again as if saying, "Hurry," but she did not immediately respond. Instead, she stood with her head erect and looked across the river to the towering palisades. Her bosom rose and fell, and she wiped a tear from her cheek.
"Paul loved this place," she said aloud, "and I love it too-because of him."
May started along the path to the house. The horse, Rusty, whinnied a soft welcome as she passed, and Friend, standing on his hind feet, tugged at his chain and whimpered.
"I'm sorry I can't stop and pet you now, Rusty," she called to the horse as she ran to the dog.
To her amazement, when she reached Friend he dropped to the ground and lay still while she unsnapped his chain. Then instead of bounding up and running with excitement as she expected, Friend remained almost motionless and continued to whimper softly.
"You poor, lonely dog," she said and patted his head. The whimpering became louder.
"Poor Friend," she soothed. "You can't be that lonely. I'm sure George comes every day and that he is taking good care of you. Do you sense that Paul is not coming back? You act as if you do."
May pulled the dog to his feet and put her arms around his neck. For several minutes she held him close. The dog continued to whimper, and tears streamed down her cheeks. Finally she released the dog and stood up. Friend looked up and their eyes met and she giggled sadly.
"People would think I'm crazy if they saw me crying with a dog," she said aloud. "But we do both have reason to cry, don't we, Friend?"
She got a handkerchief from her purse and dried her eyes. Then she started along the path to the front of the house with the dog following at her heels.

EXCERPT: Sunshine Valley

As Rachel walked, she was surrounded by the thunder of a heavily laden locomotive. She paused and watched the huge engine belching black smoke as it pulled a line of coal-laden gondolas from the valley.
Above the railroad, small cabins, already blackened by coal dust, perched on long posts. Along Happy Creek, dirty children were playing, and, along the newly finished boardwalk, housewives were hurrying toward the commissary.
The train disappeared beyond the river. The thundering tread grew faint and finally died in the distance, and other sounds became audible-the screech of the conveyer coming down the mountainside, the fitful cry of a child in a cabin on the bluff, and the laughing of the children playing in Happy Creek.
Rachel sighed, saddened by the changes in the valley, and even more saddened by the changes that had taken place in herself-and in Clem. The thought of Clem pained her, and she stamped her foot impatiently. Why should she care about Clem? She was Jamison's girlfriend now. Besides, Clem had apparently put her out of his mind, for he had paid her no attention for months.
She must still care for Clem though, at least a little, she conceded, but she wondered what was wrong with him. Why did he refuse to work for Jamison? Compared to the men who worked, he looked shabby, and lately he was even more withdrawn than usual.

EXCERPT: From Euroclydon

I must pray for Alphaeus tonight, as I have every night since he left," Rebecca said aloud. "Though I have little faith, I will pray again that he will reach his destination safely and that he will be successful trading in the bazaars." She hoped he would prosper as he expected, and that he would return and achieve his goal in Caesarea. If he did return? ... Even if she could someday be released from the promise her father had made to Joram, that did not mean that she could marry Alphaeus.
"Alphaeus must gain his freedom, even if I never marry him," she said aloud as she watched a school of small fish swim past. "He is too good, too intelligent and too ambitious to remain a slave."
A small sea bird landed on the quay near her. She watched him dip and turn and run along the pavement. A breeze fanned the dark locks of her hair as she turned her head to listen more closely and try to sort out the different sounds about her-the rushing of the waves on the shore, the splashing of water along the breakwater, the wind in the palms above her and the ever-present cries of the gulls.
In the distance she saw the sun glinting on the gentle swells, and, farther out, porpoise surfacing to breathe. What a beautiful day, she thought, but that did not bring peace to her troubled heart.
She thought of the quarrels she had had with Alphaeus, and wished that she could take back the cruel things she had said to him. She hoped he had forgiven her, though she would never forgive herself if anything happened to him on his journey. She wished for the hundredth time that she could get over her fear that he would not return, yet deep inside her the conviction that he would not had taken up residence.
From the day Alphaeus had first talked of going to Rome, the premonition that he would suffer shipwreck had come. Since he had been gone, her fear of the sea had grown stronger, and she had started dreaming of a strangely fashioned ship, driven before a violent storm, and crashing on the rocky shore of some wild and desolate land. To her dismay the dream reoccurred every few nights, and always she awoke in terror and could not sleep again.

EXCERPT: Lucinda of Perryville

"Mama, I'll pick up the paper and string," Lucinda said as she started picking up the clutter left from Christmas wrappings.Just then the sound of a sharp command, followed by the hoofbeats of several horses, caused them all to turn suddenly toward the front of the house.
"Now who can that be?" Lewis demanded, dropping his presents on the steps and hurrying to the door. He pulled the door open a crack and looked out. For a long minute he stood immobile. Then he slowly closed the door. "It's some more blamed Yankee soldiers," he stated coldly. "I'm goin' upstairs to get my gun."
"Lewis, that's the last thing in the world you need to do," Nancy screamed.
"Whatever happens, you don't need your gun, Papa," Tad said firmly, and he stepped between Lewis and the stairway.
"I'll go out and meet them!" Lucinda announced. "Surely they will show respect for a woman."
Tom tried to jump up and stop her, but he dropped one of his crutches, and before he could recover it, hatless and coatless, Lucinda ran out on the porch. Then, standing tall and straight like her father did when he was angry, she looked defiantly at the soldiers.
The sergeant, riding in front of his men, reined in his horse at the front gate. "Mornin', ma'am," he greeted as if he were making a social call.
"What do you want?" she asked coldly.
"Ma'am, you don't appear very civil. I reckon you must be a Rebel sympathizer, like we was told," he said curtly.
"I have a brother in the Union Army," she retorted, lifting her chin a bit higher. "Does that mean anything to you?"
"Ma'am, I didn't expect to have to deal with a woman. Ain't your husband at home?"
"Maybe he's out harassing women like you and your men are doing. Her words cut the sergeant and she knew she had angered him.
The other men spurred their horses, and they closed around the sergeant's horse, pushing him against the yard gate. The gate splintered with a crash, and the broken pieces fell into the yard.
"Who is going to pay for that gate? The Federal Government never did pay for the horses and calves some of your soldiers stole, so I suppose the government won't pay for the gate either," she challenged.
"Ma'am, if you was a man, I'd horsewhip you," the sergeant snorted.
"Let's go in and get them Rebel soldiers and get going, Sergeant," one of the men insisted.
"What soldiers?" she demanded, looking at them disdainfully.
"We were told that your family is harboring two Rebel soldiers, ma'am. Now are you going to send them out, or do we have to come in and get them?"
"I suppose you'll break the front door down like you did the gate," she countered.
"That won't be necessary, Lucinda," Tom's voice cut in from the doorway. Then he came out on his crutches and stood beside her. She admired Tom's courage, but she feared what would happen to him.
"He's lost a leg, Sarge," one of the men gasped, "and he's not in uniform. He must have been mustered out."
"We don't need no more wounded men to take care of," another man said.
"Reckon you're right," agreed the sergeant. "Where's the other one?" He looked straight at Tom.
Just then Tad came out. "I'm right here, Sergeant," he said. "I only have one arm, but you can put it in chains if you want to." He walked down the steps and started across the yard toward the sergeant, holding out his arm.
"Sarge, I don't have no stomach for this. I've seen too many men get their arms and legs cut off and I've heard them scream while the doctors was doing it. Let's get out of here," one of the soldiers said.
"We'll go," the Sergeant decided, looking around at his men.
"Good day ma'am." He lifted the brim of his hat to her. "I'm sorry to have troubled you."

EXCERPT: A Girl Named Candy

The next morning Candy awoke to another cold, rainy day. Her stomach was aching from hunger, so she decided she would milk the cow and drink some milk and eat the can of corn she had found last night. That would not be much of a breakfast, but it would keep her from starving. She crawled from her bed in the hay and brushed the hay from her clothes. She searched around and found a comb and combed the tangles from her hair. There was no water for a bath, so she decided that later she would find a washcloth, wet it with rain water, and wash her face. The water would be cold, but it would have to do.
Her coat was still damp, and her boots were wet and stiff, but she put them on anyway. She found her scarf, tied it over her head, then climbed down the ladder. Somehow the cow's stall had come open in the night, and the cow was gone. She went out to see if she was at the gap. She wasn't there, so Candy turned away disappointed. Maybe she would go bring her up later, she decided.
She left the barn and went down to the water's edge and tried to see where the house had been, but the foundation was hidden under the muddy water. For several minutes she stood there, cold, hungry, lonely, and frightened. She wondered where her stepmother and Jake had gone. Didn't they care what happened to her?
In a moment she stamped her foot and brushed her tears away. "You're too big to cry," she told herself sternly, trying to mimic her stepmother's voice. Then she giggled, but the tears did not stop falling.
"Lillian and Jake should at least come to see about me," she muttered with sarcasm that was unusual for one so young.
She looked at the river and saw that it was full of floating logs, pieces of furniture, and broken pieces of lumber. A small building was floating past, and, a short distance up the river, she saw a house floating near the shore. A moment later she heard a voice calling, "Help! Help! Somebody get me get off this house."
The house came nearer, and she saw a boy, somewhat older than she was, clinging to the roof. He had on a coat and hat, but he still looked cold, and he looked like he was terrified.
The house passed her, and she started running after it, wishing there was something she could do to save the boy.

EXCERPT: The Angel of Dragonpoint

"You will probably be afraid at Dragonpoint, Lucile, the lone girl who kept the restaurant, volunteered.
"I'm not easily frightened," Angela returned as she salted her French fries.
"I hope living with your grandparents works out for you, but you may get lonely. People say that your grandmother never crosses the threshold of Dragonpoint except to go to church once in a while.
"Then I'll go with her. I love to go to church."
"You may have to wait on your grandmother. . . . and your grandfather," Lucile retorted.
"He has a crippled leg, you know, and all he does is dig holes in the ground."
"Why does he do that?" Angela asked between bites of her hamburger.
"He's trying to find the treasure, you know. Hasn't anybody told you about the treasure?"
"I've never heard of it, but my parents didn't talk much about my grandparents."
"Your grandparents had money when they came here years ago, people say. Dragonpoint had been for sale for years, but nobody would buy it at any price, even though it was furnished just as the pirates left it. Then one day your grandfather came here from somewhere and bought it. He bought it, hoping to find the treasure, people say. Soon after that he and your grandmother moved in. They've lived there all these years, though nobody knows how they've managed."
"Is that because my grandfather has spent all his money?" Angela asked.
"Partly, but that's not all. The old place is haunted, you know. That's why people are afraid to go past it."
Angela choked on her hamburger and had to wash it down with tea.
"They say the ghost of the pirates that died there a long time ago walk about in that big old house after dark," Lucile said, evidently enjoying Angela's discomfiture.
"I'm not afraid of ghosts," Angela finally managed.
"Mike is, aren't you, Mike?" Lucile asked, turning to the afflicted boy who habitually loitered around the restaurant.
"I shore am. I'm real scart of Ol' Rafe Consir. That's why I ain't goin' near the place. I ain't goin' part of the way with her if she don't hurry."
"What's this about Rafe what's-his-name. Angela asked uneasily.
"Oh, he was the boss of all the pirates, and he's the one that built the house. Rafe Consir wasn't his real name, they say, but it's the name he went by. They say he was from the gentry in England... rich ... owned a castle and all that. People used to call him Lord whatever his name was."
"Did people finally drive the pirates out?" Angela asked.
"They didn't have to, Angela. People say that the wrath of God drove them out. There's not time to tell it all to you now, if you're going to get to Dragonpoint before dark. I'll just tell you this much; thunder and lightning drove them out."
"I'd like to hear the rest, but I guess I had better go,"
Angela said, glancing toward the darkening windows of the restaurant.

EXCERPT: Birdman

Low clouds were drifting beneath the plane, again blocking his view of the ground. That left him with nothing to do but fly on and hope they would get ahead of the front before he ran out of gas. The plane droned on with Annie huddled in her seat, gripping her hands together and with Mark frightened and wondering what to do. The gas guage hovered on less than a fourth of a tank, and he knew that he had little time to get the plane on the ground. Perspiration was running down his back, and his hands were wet on the control wheel. . .

The plane roared on and tension continued to build in the cockpit. . . he wondered how much gas would remain in the tank after the guage reached empty. . . when the gas was gone the engine would sputter to a stop and they would start down to an unwanted landing. That would most likely be the last landing he would ever make.

PUBLISHERS COMMENT: The Way Things Used To Be

L. Walker Arnold has written of his life in an entertaining and sometimes humorous way. He writes of trials, hardships, suffering, victories, and of miracles in his life. Readers of this book will find it interesting, challenging, and inspiring.
This book chronicles the incredible story of the amazing life of L. Walker Arnold. In it he recalls his memories of The Way Things Used To Be. It is hard to imagine how people got along without the modern conveniences we now take for granted. It is also a marvel how they lived through the days of the Great Depression. The author grew up in those days, and with insight, pathos, wit and humor, he takes us back to that time. In the telling of his experiences, L. Walker Arnold tells, in part, the story of his life. He relates some of his fabulous, almost unbelievable, dangerous, and often humorous life experiences. His account of answered prayers is a faith builder. The reader will spend happy hours reading this book and will want to keep it to read again and again.

COMMENT: Family and Friends Cookbook

Friends and Family Cookbook was compiled by Jessie Arnold. It is a cookbook with a spiritual flavor, memories of yesteryear, and great recipes.

The first edition of this cookbook sold out in little more than three months. Many who have ordered the cookbook have written enthusiastic letters praising it. We anticipate that it is going to be a best-seller.

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