Ellis Cowmen and Rustlers

A Story of the Wyoming Cattle Ranges
1. Auflage 2018
ISBN: 978-1-4553-5065-0
Verlag: Seltzer Books
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 0 - No protection

E-Book, Englisch, 478 Seiten

Classic adventure novel. According to Wikipedia: 'Edward Sylvester Ellis (April 11, 1840 - June 20, 1916) was an American author who was born in Ohio and died at Cliff Island, Maine. Ellis was a teacher, school administrator, and journalist, but his most notable work was that that he performed as author of hundreds of dime novels that he produced under his name and a number of noms de plume. Notable works by Ellis include The Huge Hunter, or the Steam Man of the Prairies and Seth Jones, or the Captives of the Frontier. Internationally, Edward S. Ellis is probably best known for his Deerhunter novels widely read by young boys up to the 1950s (together with works by James Fenimore Cooper and Karl May). In the mid-1880s, after a fiction-writing career of some thirty years, Ellis eventually turned his pen to more serious works of biography, history, and persuasive writing.'

Autoren/Hrsg.

Ellis, Edward

Leseproben

Cowmen And Rustlers, A Story Of The Wyoming Cattle Ranges By Edward Ellis
  published by Samizdat Express, Orange, CT, USA established in 1974, offering over 14,000 books   Westerns by Edward Ellis:   Adrift in the Wilds Camp-Fire and Wigwam The Cave in the Mountain The Daughter of the Chieftain Deerfoot in the Mountains Footprints in Forest The Huge Hunter The Hunters of the Ozark In the Pecos Country Klondike Nuggets The Land of Mystery The Lost Trail Oonomoo the Huron The Phantom of the River The Story of Red Feather Through Forest and Fire Two Boys in Wyoming   feedback welcome: [e-mail]   visit us at samizdat.com   First published in 1904     I. A MERRY GROUP   II. A WARNING FROM THE WOODS   III. THE FLIGHT OVER THE ICE   IV. THE REPORT OF GUNS   V. LOOKING SOUTHWARD   VI. COWMEN AND RUSTLERS   VII. THE WARNING   VIII. GOOD-BY   IX. A SUMMONS AND A REPLY   X. A HOT PURSUIT   XI. A STRANGE DIVERSION   XII. THE BACK TRAIL   XIII. A CONSULTATION   XIV. UNWELCOME CALLERS   XV. THE "DOG INDIANS"   XVI. AN UNPLEASANT VISIT   XVII. A DELICATE SITUATION   XVIII. A MISCALCULATION   XIX. THE BURNED RANCH   XX. THE TRUCE   XXI. A MESSENGER IN HASTE   XXII. IMPORTANT TIDINGS   XXIII. AT BAY   XXIV. THE PRIMITIVE FORT   XXV. THE FLAG or TRUCE   XXVI. THE UNDERGROUND MISSIVE   XXVII. ON PAROLE   XXVIII. THE FINAL SUMMONS   XXIX. A STRANGE OCCURRENCE   XXX. THE MISSING ONE   XXXI. WHY IT WAS DONE   XXXII. THE HOSTAGE   XXXIII. THE PRISONER   XXXIV. OUT IN THE NIGHT    XXXV. CONCLUSION   CHAPTER I. A MERRY GROUP.
   The Whitney household, in the western part of Maine, was filled with sunshine, merriment and delight, on a certain winter evening a few years ago.   There was the quiet, thoughtful mother, now past her prime, but with many traces of the beauty and refinement that made her the belle of the little country town until Hugh Whitney, the strong-bearded soldier, who had entered the war as private and emerged therefrom with several wounds and with the eagles of a colonel on his shoulder, carried her away from all admirers and made her his bride.   Hugh had been absent a couple of weeks in Montana and Wyoming, whither he was drawn by a yearning of many years' standing to engage in the cattle business. He had received some tuition as a cowboy on the Llano Estacada, and the taste there acquired of the free, wild life, supplemented, doubtless, by his experience during the war, was held in restraint for a time only by his marriage.   The absence of the father was the only element lacking to make the household one of the happiest in that section of Maine; but the letter just received from him was so cheerful and affectionate that it added to the enjoyment of the family.   The two principal factors in this jollity were the twins and only children, Fred and Jennie, seventeen on their last birthday, each the picture of health, bounding spirits, love and devotion to their parents and to one another. They had been the life of the sleighing-parties and social gatherings, where the beauty of the budding Jennie attracted as much admiration as did that of her mother a score of years before, but the girl was too young to care for any of the ardent swains who were ready to wrangle for the privilege of a smile or encouraging word. Like a good and true daughter she had no secrets from her mother, and when that excellent parent said, with a meaning smile, "Wait a few years, Jennie," the girl willingly promised to do as she wished in that as in every other respect.   Fred was home for the Christmas holidays, and brought with him Monteith Sterry, one year his senior. Sterry lived in Boston, where he and Fred Whitney were classmates and warm friends. Young Whitney had spent several Sundays with Sterry, and the latter finally accepted the invitation to visit him at his home down in Maine.   These two young men, materially aided by Jennie, speedily turned the house topsy-turvy. There was no resisting their overrunning spirits, though now and then the mother ventured on a mild protest, but the smile which always accompanied the gentle reproof betrayed the truth, that she was as happy as they in their merriment, with which she would not have interfered for the world.   That night the full, round moon shone from an unclouded sky, and the air was crisp and clear. There was not much snow on the ground, and the ice on the little river at the rear of the house was as smooth as a polished window-pane. For nearly two score miles this current, which eventually found its way into the Penobscot, wound through the leafless woods, past an occasional opening, where, perhaps, the humble cabin of some backwoodsman stood.   It was an ideal skating rink, and the particular overflow of spirits on that evening was due to the agreement that it was to be devoted to the exhilarating amusement.   "We will leave the house at 8 o'clock," said Fred at the supper table, "and skate to the mouth of Wild Man's Creek and back."   "How far is that?" inquired Monteith Sterry.   "About ten miles."   Pretty Jennie's face took on a contemptuous expression.   "Not a bit more; we shall be only fairly started when we must turn back."   "Well, where do you want to go, sister?"   "We shouldn't think of stopping until we reach Wolf Glen."   "And may I inquire the distance to that spot?" asked Sterry again.   "Barely five miles beyond Wild Man's Creek," said she.   Those were not the young men to take a "dare" from a girl like her. It will be admitted that thirty miles is a pretty good spurt for a skater, but the conditions could not have been more favourable.   "It's agreed, then," remarked Sterry, "that we will go to Wolf Glen, and then, and then--"   "And then what?" demanded Jennie, turning toward him.   "Why not keep on to Boston and call on my folks?"   "If you will furnish the ice we will do so."   "I couldn't guarantee ice all the way, but we can travel by other means between the points, using our skates as the chance offers."   "Or do as that explorer who is to set out in search of the north pole--have a combination skate and boat, so when fairly going we can keep straight on."   "I will consent to that arrangement on one condition," interposed the mother, so seriously that all eyes were turned wonderingly upon her.   "What is that?"   "That you return before the morrow."   The countenances became grave, and turning to Sterry, on her right, Jennie asked, in a low voice:   "Is it safe to promise that?"   "Hardly. Let us leave the scheme until we have time in which fully to consider it."   "You will start, as I understand, at eight," remarked the mother, speaking now in earnest. "You can readily reach Wolf Glen within a couple of hours. There you will rest a while and return as you choose. So I will expect you at midnight."   "Unless something happens to prevent."   The words of Monteith...