Fiction Books

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CHAPTER I. The peace of midday lay upon Gunsight, broken only by the distant chang, chang of bells as a ten-mule ore-team came toiling in from the mines. In the cool depths of the umbrella tree in front of the Company's office a Mexican ground-dove crooned endlessly his ancient song of love, but Gunsight took no notice. Its thoughts were not of love but of money. The dusty team of mules passed... more...

CHAPTER ONE THE RIM AND WHAT LAY BENEATH IT Not all of the West is tamed and trained to run smoothly on pneumatic tires and to talk more enthusiastically of the different “makes” of cars than of bits and saddles. There are still wide stretches unknown of tourists and movie men hunting locations for Western melodrama where men live in the full flavor of adventure and romance and never know it,... more...

CHAPTER I It was a warm, golden-cloudy, lovable afternoon. In the big living-room at Ingleside Susan Baker sat down with a certain grim satisfaction hovering about her like an aura; it was four o'clock and Susan, who had been working incessantly since six that morning, felt that she had fairly earned an hour of repose and gossip. Susan just then was perfectly happy; everything had gone almost... more...

THE ORCHARD LANDS OF LONG AGO The orchard lands of Long Ago!O drowsy winds, awake, and blowThe snowy blossoms back to me,And all the buds that used to be!Blow back along the grassy waysOf truant feet, and lift the hazeOf happy summer from the treesThat trail their tresses in the seasOf grain that float and overflowThe orchard lands of Long Ago! Blow back the melody that slipsIn lazy laughter from the... more...

LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE [Illustration: They was two great big black things a-standin' by her side] Little Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay,An' wash the cups an' saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away,An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep,An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her... more...

PART I RIGHT ROYAL An hour before the race they talked togetherA pair of lovers in the mild March weather,Charles Cothill and the golden lady, Em. Beautiful England's hands had fashioned them. He was from Sleins, that manor up the Lithe;Riding the Downs had made his body blithe;Stalwart he was, and springy, hardened, swift,Able for perfect speed with perfect thrift,Man to the core yet moving like... more...

The Martyrs of 1822. He was black but comely. Nature gave him a royal body, nobly planned and proportioned, and noted for its great strength. There was that in his countenance, which bespoke a mind within to match that body, a mind of uncommon native intelligence, force of will, and capacity to dominate others. His manners were at once abrupt and crafty, his temper was imperious, his passions and... more...

-1- "Jeeves," I said, "may I speak frankly?" "Certainly, sir." "What I have to say may wound you." "Not at all, sir." "Well, then——" No—wait. Hold the line a minute. I've gone off the rails. I don't know if you have had the same experience, but the snag I always come up against when I'm telling a story is this dashed difficult problem... more...

Chapter 1.I. The Brothers. The celebrated name which forms the title to this work will sufficiently apprise the reader that it is in the earlier half of the fourteenth century that my story opens. It was on a summer evening that two youths might be seen walking beside the banks of the Tiber, not far from that part of its winding course which sweeps by the base of Mount Aventine. The path they had... more...

CHAPTER 1. TWO MEN AND A WOMAN "Mr. Ridgway, ma'am." The young woman who was giving the last touches to the very effective picture framed in her long looking-glass nodded almost imperceptibly. She had come to the parting of the ways, and she knew it, with a shrewd suspicion as to which she would choose. She had asked for a week to decide, and her heart-searching had told her nothing new.... more...