Category: Historical Novels
Four men were moving along under the bank of the Miami, with their bodies bent, at a gait that was almost rapid enough to be called a run. They were constantly raising their heads and peering over the bank, as though watching something in the wood, which in this section was qu...
Four men were moving along under the bank of the Miami, with their bodies bent, at a gait that was almost rapid enough to be called a run. They were constantly raising their hea...
2. Chapter 2We will rear new trees under homes that glow As if gems were the frontage of every bough; O'er our white walls we will train the vine, And sit in its shadow at day's decline, An...
3. Chapter 3There they sat and chatted gayly, while the flickering of the blaze Led the shadows on their faces in a wild and devious maze; And among them, one I noted, unto whom the rest ga...
4. Chapter 4Laughlin's signal of danger was accompanied by a meaning motion up the creek, intended to direct the attention of the settlers to that point. Looking in the direction indicated,...
5. Chapter 5They're gone--again the red-men rally With dance and song the woods resound; The hatchet's buried in the valley; No foe profanes our hunting-ground! The green leaves on the blit...
6. Chapter 6And we knew That this rare sternness had its softness too, That woman's charm and grace upon his being wrought; That underneath the armor of his breast Were springs of tendernes...
7. Chapter 7The crackling of the bushes continued, while the Rifleman compressed his lips and stood like a tiger at bay. In a moment he saw a man making his way through the tangled shrubber...
8. Chapter 8For a few minutes, the Rifleman ran "like a whirlwind," supporting entirely the weight of Edith, for none knew better than he the imminent peril that menaced both. The wood was...
9. Chapter 9The woodcock, in his moist retreat, Heard not the falling of their feet; On his dark roost the gray owl slept, Time, with his drum the partridge kept; Nor left the deer his wate...
10. Chapter 10The red-breast, perched in arbor green, Sad minstrel of the quiet scene, While hymning, for the dying sun, Strains like a broken-hearted one, Raised not her mottled wings to fly...
11. Chapter 11Like lightning from storm-clouds on high, The hurtling, death-winged arrows fly, And windrows of pale warriors lie! Oh! never has the sun's bright eye Looked from his hill-top i...
12. Chapter 12They come!--be firm--in silence rally! The Long Knives our retreat have found! Hark! their tramp is in the valley, And they hem the forest round! The burthened boughs with pale...