Three men in an open boat off the coast of Oregon –two men in an open boat –one man, lashed to an oar, fighting the Pacific Ocean – this is the introduction to one of the best of B.M. Bower’s many good stories of the West.
Jackie, who hunted and fished daytimes in breeches and flannel shirt, and appeared in the evening demure in starched ruffles; Jackie, who packed a forty-five with both costumes, and was not afraid to use it, is a heroine to remember, “Chancey” Moore, “Chancey by name and chancey by nature”, who started from Alaska with a belt-load of gold and who got it back to the ranch –eventually – to face problems that gold could not solve, is a thoroughly satisfactory upholder of Western tradition.
“Rocking Arrow” is further proof that B.M. Bower belongs with the leaders of the thinning ranks of those novelists whose canvases cover square miles and whose characters are governed by the elementals of nature and not those of city streets.