The Silent Battle

Оглавление

Gibbs George. The Silent Battle

I. LOST

II. BABES IN THE WOODS

III. VOICES

IV. EDEN

V. WOMAN AND MAN

VI. THE SHADOW

VII. ALLEGRO

VIII. CHICOT, THE JESTER

IX. THE LORINGS

X. MR. VAN DUYN RIDES FORTH

XI. THE CEDARCROFT SET

XII. NELLIE PENNINGTON CUTS IN

XIII. MRS. PENNINGTON’S BROUGHAM

XIV. THE JUNIOR MEMBER

XV. DISCOVERED

XVI. BEHIND THE ENEMY’S BACK

XVII “THE POT AND KETTLE”

XVIII. THE ENEMY AND A FRIEND

XIX. LOVE ON CRUTCHES

XX. THE INTRUDER

XXI. TEMPTATION

XXII. SMOKE AND FIRE

XXIII. THE MOUSE AND THE LION

XXIV. DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND

XXV. DEEP WATER

XXVI. BIG BUSINESS

XXVII. MR. LORING REFLECTS

XXVIII. THE LODESTAR

XXIX. ARCADIA AGAIN

Отрывок из книги

Gallatin’s responsibilities to his Creator had been multiplied by two.

Less than an hour ago he had dropped his rod and creel more than half convinced that it didn’t matter to him or to anybody else whether he got back to Joe Keegón or not. Now, he suddenly found himself hustling busily in the underbrush, newly alive to the exigencies of the occasion, surprised even at the fact that he could take so extraordinary an interest in the mere building of a fire. Back and forth from the glade to the deep woods he hurried, bringing dry leaves, twigs, and timber. These he piled against a fallen tree in the lee of the spot he had chosen for his shelter and in a moment a fire was going. Many things bothered him. He had no axe and the blade of his hasp-knife was hardly suited to the task he found before him. If his hands were not so tender as they had been a month ago, and if into his faculties a glimmering of woodcraft had found its way, the fact remained that this blade, his Colt, fishing-rod and his wits (such as they were), were all that he possessed in the uneven match against the forces of Nature. Something of the calm ruthlessness of the mighty wilderness came to him at this moment. The immutable trees rose before him as symbols of a merciless creed which all the forces around him uttered with the terrible eloquence of silence. He was an intruder from an alien land, of no importance in the changeless scheme of things—less important than the squirrel which peeped at him slyly from the branch above his head or the chickadee which piped flutelike in the thicket. The playfellow of his strange summer had become his enemy, only jocular and ironical as yet, but still an enemy, with which he must do battle with what weapons he could find.

.....

“It’s enough, God knows,” he said, sitting upright. “You must have suffered.”

“I did—I wonder what got into me. I’ve never been frightened in the woods before.” She turned her head over her shoulder and peered into the shadows. “I don’t seem to be frightened now.”

.....