CHAPTER 1. One afternoon, far out on the sun-baked waste of sage, we made camp near a clump of withered pinyon trees. The cold desert wind came down upon us with the sudden darkness. Even the Mormons, who were finding the trail for us across the drifting sands, forgot to sing and pray at sundown. We huddled round the campfire, a tired and silent little group. When out of the lonely, melancholy night... more...

PAUL PATOFF. My dear lady—my dear friend—you have asked me to tell you a story, and I am going to try, because there is not anything I would not try if you asked it of me. I do not yet know what it will be about, but it is impossible that I should disappoint you; and if the proverb says, "Needs must when the devil drives," I can mend the proverb into a show of grace, and say, The most... more...

CHAPTER I. Equipment and departure of the ship Mentor from the port of New Bedford, Massachusetts.—The ship's company.—Arrival at Fayal.—Passage down the Cape de Verd islands, and round the cape of Good Hope, to the Indian ocean.—Cruising among the islands, and arrival at the port of Coupang, in Timor.—A violent storm.—The ship strikes on a coral reef off the Pelew islands.—Alarm and... more...

WORTH GILBERT On the blank silence that followed my last words, there in the big, dignified room with its Circassian walnut and sound-softening rugs, Dykeman, the oldest director, squalled out as though he had been bitten, "All there is to tell! But it can't be! It isn't possib—" His voice cracked, split on the word, and the rest came in an agonized squeak, "A man can't... more...

A CRIMEAN NIGHT Lieutenant Sutch was the first of General Feversham's guests to reach Broad Place. He arrived about five o'clock on an afternoon of sunshine in mid June, and the old red-brick house, lodged on a southern slope of the Surrey hills, was glowing from a dark forest depth of pines with the warmth of a rare jewel. Lieutenant Sutch limped across the hall, where the portraits of the... more...

CHAPTER I. ROSY, COLIN, AND FELIX.   "The highest not more  Than the height of a counsellor's bag."—WORDSWORTH. Rosy stood at the window. She drummed on the panes with her little fat fingers in a fidgety cross way; she pouted out her nice little mouth till it looked quite unlike itself; she frowned down with her eyebrows over her two bright eyes, making them seem like two small... more...

CHAPTER I THE INVITATION It was late in the afternoon in the spring of the year 1630; the hilltops of the south of Scotland were covered with masses of cloud, and a fierce wind swept the driving rain before it with such force that it was not easy to make way against it. It had been raining for three days without intermission. Every little mountain burn had become a boiling torrent, while the rivers had... more...

WASHINGTON IRVING, ESQ. AND HIS WORKS. Washington Irving was born, in the State of New York, in the year 1782, and is, consequently, in his fifty-first year. His early life cannot better be told than in his own graceful language, prefixed to the most celebrated of his writings as "the author's account of himself." "I was always fond of visiting new scenes, and observing strange... more...

CHAPTER I. ON THE WAY BACK FROM THE GAME. "But the Bird boys won the prize of a silver cup!" "What if they did? It was by a hair's breadth, Mr. Smarty!" "And their monoplane was proven to be faster than the big biplane you built, Puss Carberry!" "Oh! was it? Don't you be too sure of that, Larry!" "Didn't it land on the summit of Old Thunder Top ahead... more...

CHAPTER I Vulcan's Hammer The entire staff of the world-famed Spindrift Scientific Foundation gathered in the conference room of the big gray laboratory building on the southeast corner of Spindrift Island. It was unusual for the whole staff to be called to a meeting. Even more unusual—not a single member knew what the meeting was about. Rick Brant, son of the Spindrift Foundation's... more...