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CHAPTER I. THE ENCHANTER AND THE WARRIOR. It was the summer of the year 1491, and the armies of Ferdinand and Isabel invested the city of Granada. The night was not far advanced; and the moon, which broke through the transparent air of Andalusia, shone calmly over the immense and murmuring encampment of the Spanish foe, and touched with a hazy light the snow-capped summits of the Sierra Nevada,... more...

Jim Carter read the news dispatch thoughtfully and handed it back to his chief without comment. “Well, what do you make of it?” Miles Overton, city editor of , shoved his green eye-shade far back on his bald head and glanced up irritably from his littered desk. “I don’t know,” said Jim. “You don’t know!” Overton snorted, biting his dead cigar impatiently. “And I suppose you don’t... more...

CHAPTER I THE CORNERSTONE OF LIBERTY Three little vessels—the Susan Constant, the Godspeed, and the Discovery—left England in December, 1606, under the command of Captain Christopher Newport, to found a colony on the distant shores of Virginia. Two decades earlier Sir Walter Raleigh had sent out a group of settlers to what is now North Carolina, and they had disappeared mysteriously. What had... more...

"Good afternoon, sir," nodded Correy as I entered the navigating room. He glanced down at the two glowing three-dimensional navigating charts, and drummed restlessly on the heavy frames. "Afternoon, Mr. Correy. Anything of interest to report?" "Not a thing, sir!" growled my fire-eating first officer. "I'm about ready to quit the Service and get a job on one of the... more...

CHAPTER I SPANISH DAYS The dominant people of California have been successively aborigines, conquistadores, monks, the dreamy, romantic, unenergetic peoples of Spain, the roaring melange of Forty-nine, and finally the modern citizens, who are so distinctive that they bid fair to become a subspecies of their own. This modern society has, in its evolution, something unique. To be sure, other countries... more...

ystole ... diastole ... the Cardiophone listened, hummed, and recorded; tracing a path of perilous peaks and precipices on the white paper. "Relax!" Dr. Rostov pleaded. "Please relax, Mr. Monk!" The eyes of Fletcher Monk replied. Rostov knew their language well enough to read the glaring messages they transmitted. Indignation ... "Don't use that commanding tone with me,... more...

"But you live like such a fool—of course you're bored!" drawled the Older Man, rummaging listlessly through his pockets for the ever-elusive match. "Well, I like your nerve!" protested the Younger Man with unmistakable asperity. "Do you—really?" mocked the Older Man, still smiling very faintly. For a few minutes then both men resumed their cigars, staring blinkishly out... more...

1. I always knew I should write a book. Something to help tired minds lay aside the cares of the day. But I always say you never can tell what's around the corner till you turn it, and everyone has become so accustomed to fantastic occurrences in the last twenty one years that the inspiring and relaxing novel I used to dream about would be today as unreal as Atlantis. Instead, I find I must write... more...

I By various influences and agents the Past is summoned before us, more vivid than a dream. The process seems as magical as those whereof we read in fairy legends, where circles are drawn, wands waved, mystic syllables pronounced. Adjured by these rites, voices speak, or forms and faces shape themselves from nothing. So, through certain influences, not magical at all, our brains are made to flash with... more...