The Chalice Of Courage: A Romance of Colorado
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Brady Cyrus Townsend. The Chalice Of Courage: A Romance of Colorado
PREFACE
THE CHALICE OF COURAGE
BOOK I. THE HIGHER LAW
CHAPTER I. THE CUP THAT WOULD NOT PASS
CHAPTER II. ALONE UPON THE TRAIL
BOOK II. THE EAST AND THE WEST
CHAPTER III. THE YOUNG LADY FROM PHILADELPHIA
CHAPTER IV. THE GAME PLAYED IN THE USUAL WAY
CHAPTER V. THE STORY AND THE LETTERS
CHAPTER VI. THE POOL AND THE WATER SPRITE
CHAPTER VII. THE BEAR, THE MAN AND THE FLOOD
CHAPTER VIII. DEATH, LIFE AND THE RESURRECTION
BOOK III. FORGETTING AND FORGOT
CHAPTER IX. A WILD DASH FOR THE HILLS
CHAPTER X. A TELEGRAM AND A CALLER
CHAPTER XI "OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY"
CHAPTER XII. ON THE TWO SIDES OF THE DOOR
CHAPTER XIII. THE LOG HUT IN THE MOUNTAINS
CHAPTER XIV. A TOUR OF INSPECTION
CHAPTER XV. THE CASTAWAYS OF THE MOUNTAINS
BOOK IV. OH YE ICE AND SNOW, PRAISE YE THE LORD
CHAPTER XVI. THE WOMAN'S HEART
CHAPTER XVII. THE MAN'S HEART
CHAPTER XVIII. THE KISS ON THE HAND
CHAPTER XIX. THE FACE IN THE LOCKET
CHAPTER XX. THE STRENGTH OF THE WEAK
BOOK V. THE CUP IS DRAINED
CHAPTER XXI. THE CHALLENGE OF THE RANGE
CHAPTER XXII. THE CONVERGING TRAILS
CHAPTER XXIII. THE ODDS AGAINST HIM
CHAPTER XXIV. THE LAST RESORT OF KINGS AND MEN
CHAPTER XXV. THE BECOMING END
CHAPTER XXVI. THE DRAUGHT OF JOY
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The huge concave of the rocky wall towering above them threw the woman's scream far into the vast profound of the cañon. It came sharp to the man's ear, yet terminated abruptly; as when two rapidly moving trains pass, the whistle of one is heard shrill for one moment only to be cut short on the instant. Brief as it was, however, the sound was sufficiently appalling; its suddenness, its unexpectedness, the awful terror in its single note, as well as its instantaneity, almost stopped his heart.
With the indifference of experience and long usage he had been riding carelessly along an old pre-historic trail through the cañon, probably made and forgotten long before the Spaniards spied out the land. Engrossed in his thoughts, he had been heedless alike of the wall above and of the wall below. Prior to that moment neither the over-hanging rock that curved above his head nor the almost sheer fall to the river a thousand feet beneath the narrow ledge of the trail had influenced him at all. He might have been riding a country road so indifferent had been his progress. That momentary shriek dying thinly away into a strange silence changed everything.
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She was gloriously beautiful, too; even her brief experience in the west had brought back the missing roses to her cheek, and had banished the bister circles from beneath her eyes. Robert Maitland, lazily reclining propped up against a boulder, his feet to the fire, smoking an old pipe that would have given his brother the horrors, looked with approving complacency upon her, confident and satisfied that his prescription was working well. Nor was he the only one who looked at her that way. Marion and Emma, his two daughters, worshiped their handsome Philadelphia cousin and they sat one on either side of her on the great log lying between the tents and the fire. Even Bob junior condescended to give her approving glances. The whole camp was at her feet. Mrs. Maitland had been greatly taken by her young niece. Kirkby made no secret of his devotion; Arthur Bradshaw and Henry Phillips, each a "tenderfoot" of the extremest character, friends of business connections in the east, who were spending their vacation with Maitland, shared in the general devotion; to say nothing of George the cook, and Pete, the packer and "horse wrangler."
Phillips, who was an old acquaintance of Enid's, had tried his luck with her back east and had sense enough to accept as final his failure. Bradshaw was a solemn young man without that keen sense of humor which was characteristic of the west. The others were suitably dressed for adventure, but Bradshaw's idea of an appropriate costume was distinguished chiefly by long green felt puttees which swathed his huge calves and excited curious inquiry and ribald comment from the surprised denizens of each mountain hamlet through which they had passed, to all of which Bradshaw remained serenely oblivious. The young man, who does not enter especially into this tale, was a vestryman of the church in his home in the suburbs of Philadelphia. His piety had been put to a severe strain in the mountains.
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