The Death Shot: A Story Retold

The Death Shot: A Story Retold
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Reid Mayne. The Death Shot: A Story Retold

Preface

Prologue

Chapter One. Two sorts of Slave-Owners

Chapter Two. A flat refusal

Chapter Three. A Forest Post-Office

Chapter Four. Two good girls

Chapter Five. A photograph in the forest

Chapter Six. A coon-chase interrupted

Chapter Seven. Murder without remorse

Chapter Eight. The coon-hunter cautious

Chapter Nine. An assassin in retreat

Chapter Ten. The eve of departure

Chapter Eleven. Under the Trysting Tree

Chapter Twelve. The wrong man

Chapter Thirteen. The coon-hunter at home

Chapter Fourteen. Why comes he not?

Chapter Fifteen. A moonlight moving

Chapter Sixteen. What has become of Clancy?

Chapter Seventeen. A bullet extracted

Chapter Eighteen “To the sheriff!”

Chapter Nineteen. The “Belle of Natchez.”

Chapter Twenty. Saved by a sister

Chapter Twenty One. Seized by spectral arms

Chapter Twenty Two. Up and down

Chapter Twenty Three. The sleep of the assassin

Chapter Twenty Four. The coon-hunter conscience-stricken

Chapter Twenty Five. An unceremonious search

Chapter Twenty Six. Tell-tale tracks

Chapter Twenty Seven. Additional evidence

Chapter Twenty Eight “To the jail!”

Chapter Twenty Nine. A scheme of colonisation

Chapter Thirty. News from Natchez

Chapter Thirty One. Spectres in the street

Chapter Thirty Two. The “Choctaw Chief.”

Chapter Thirty Three. The murderer unmasked

Chapter Thirty Four “Will you be one of us?”

Chapter Thirty Five. A ghost going its rounds

Chapter Thirty Six “She is true – still true!”

Chapter Thirty Seven. The home of the hunted slave

Chapter Thirty Eight. An excursion by canoe

Chapter Thirty Nine. Is it a corpse?

Chapter Forty “Across the Sabine.”

Chapter Forty One. A repentant sinner

Chapter Forty Two. The prairie caravan

Chapter Forty Three. The hand of God

Chapter Forty Four. A cloud on the cliffs

Chapter Forty Five. A suspicious surveillance

Chapter Forty Six. A suspected servant

Chapter Forty Seven. Opposite emblems

Chapter Forty Eight. A blank day

Chapter Forty Nine. Waiting the word

Chapter Fifty. An uncanny skulker

Chapter Fifty One. Locked in

Chapter Fifty Two. Massacre without mercy

Chapter Fifty Three. A horrid spectacle

Chapter Fifty Four. Riding double

Chapter Fifty Five. Tired travellers

Chapter Fifty Six. Spectral equestrians

Chapter Fifty Seven. Planning a capture

Chapter Fifty Eight. Across the ford

Chapter Fifty Nine. A Foiled Ambuscade

Chapter Sixty “The Live-Oak.”

Chapter Sixty One. A ruffian triumphant

Chapter Sixty Two “Help! Help!”

Chapter Sixty Three. An oath to be kept

Chapter Sixty Four. A wild farewell

Chapter Sixty Five. For the rendezvous

Chapter Sixty Six. A scouting party

Chapter Sixty Seven. A straying traveller

Chapter Sixty Eight “Brasfort.”

Chapter Sixty Nine. Shadows behind

Chapter Seventy. Surrounded and disarmed

Chapter Seventy One. A pathless plain

Chapter Seventy Two. The prairie stocks

Chapter Seventy Three. Helpless and hopeless

Chapter Seventy Four. Coyote Creek

Chapter Seventy Five. A Transformation

Chapter Seventy Six. Mestizo and mulatto

Chapter Seventy Seven. A strayed traveller

Chapter Seventy Eight. Hours of agony

Chapter Seventy Nine. An unexpected visitor

Chapter Eighty. A Resurrectionist

Chapter Eighty One. The voice of vengeance

Chapter Eighty Two. A man nearly mad

Chapter Eighty Three. At length the “Death Shot.”

Chapter Eighty Four. The Scout’s Report

Chapter Eighty Five. A change of programme

Chapter Eighty Six. Alone with the Dead

Chapter Eighty Seven. Hostile Cohorts

Отрывок из книги

Plain, treeless, shrubless, smooth as a sleeping sea. Grass upon it; this so short, that the smallest quadruped could not cross over without being seen. Even the crawling reptile would not be concealed among its tufts.

Objects are upon it – sufficiently visible to be distinguished at some distance. They are of a character scarce deserving a glance from the passing traveller. He would deem it little worth while to turn his eyes towards a pack of prairie wolves, much less go in chase of them.

.....

So speaking, the fair girl flings herself upon her father’s breast, her hand laid across his forehead, the white fingers soothingly caressing it.

The door opens. Another enters the room – another girl, almost fair as she, but brighter, and younger. ’Tis Jessie.

.....

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