The Lost Mountain: A Tale of Sonora
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Оглавление
Reid Mayne. The Lost Mountain: A Tale of Sonora
Chapter One. In Want of Water
Chapter Two. The “Coyoteros.”
Chapter Three. A Rush for Water
Chapter Four. El Ojo de Agua
Chapter Five. Los Guajalotes
Chapter Six. A Homeric Repast
Chapter Seven. Los Indios!
Chapter Eight. Tender Leave-Takings
Chapter Nine “It’s the Rattlesnake.”
Chapter Ten. An Enfilading Line
Chapter Eleven. A Camp without Occupants
Chapter Twelve. The Chase of Crusader
Chapter Thirteen. A Retributive Shot
Chapter Fourteen. The “Death Fandango.”
Chapter Fifteen. Not Lost Yet
Chapter Sixteen. An Unlooked-for Enemy
Chapter Seventeen. Crusader Chased Again
Chapter Eighteen. Life on the Lost Mountain
Chapter Nineteen. Who to be the Forlorn Hope?
Chapter Twenty. A Fatal Failure
Chapter Twenty One. A Prodigious Leap
Chapter Twenty Two. A Youthful Volunteer
Chapter Twenty Three. A Ride in Mid-Air
Chapter Twenty Four. Once More Upon Crusader
Chapter Twenty Five. Up the Cliff Again
Chapter Twenty Six. Distanced – No Danger Now
Chapter Twenty Seven. In Painful Suspense
Chapter Twenty Eight. Friends in Fear
Chapter Twenty Nine. To the Rescue
Chapter Thirty. The Raiders Returned
Chapter Thirty One. The Rescuers en Route
Chapter Thirty Two. Succour in Sight
Chapter Thirty Three. The Thunder Guns
Chapter Thirty Four. At the Altar
Отрывок из книги
The moving miners are not the only travellers making for the Cerro Perdido on this same day. Just as they have sighted it, approaching from the south, another party is advancing towards it from the north, though not yet within view of it, from being farther off, with a swell of the plain interposed.
Very different in appearance, and, indeed, almost in every respect, is this second band from that already introduced to the reader; in count of men outnumbering the latter by more than treble, though in bulk as a moving mass far inferior to it. For with it are no wagons, nor wheeled vehicles of any kind; no mule train nor cattle drove. Neither are they encumbered with women and children, least of all a litera and ladies. All men, and every one of them on horseback, each bearer of his own baggage, as well he may be, so little and light it is. Their sole impedimenta consist of a few trifling commodities, chiefly provision wallets, with water gourds (xuages) strapped over their shoulders or tied to the wither-locks of their horses. Equally unobstructive is their garb, few of them having other articles of dress than a breech-clout, leggings, and moccasins, with a rolled-up blanket or serape in reserve. The exceptions are some half-dozen, who appear to exercise authority, one especially holding command over all.
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A helter-skelter it is, with a loud hullaballoo, the heavily-laden wagons drawn over the ground as light-like and with the velocity of bicycles, and making noise as of thunder. For now, near the mountain’s foot, the plain is bestrewed with stones, some big enough to raise the wheels on high, almost to overturning the vehicles, eliciting agonised cries from the women and children inside them. No more are Indians thought of for the time; enough danger without that, from upsets, broken bones, indeed death.
In the end none of these eventualities arise. Luckily – and more by good luck than guiding – the wagons keep their balance, and they within them their places, till all come to a stand again. While still tearing on, they see before them a disc of water lit up by the last rays of departing sunlight, with half a dozen horsemen – the reconnoitring party – drawn up on its edge, in attitude of wonder at their coming after so soon.
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