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THE COLONEL AND “THE LADY” By Kathleen Thompson

About an hour before sunset, Colonel Jerry rode furiously into the post. Her sweating pony was streaked with dust, and the colonel was covered with it from head to foot. Except for the rumpled and brief little corduroy skirt and bloomers, her clothing was an exact, if miniature, copy of her father’s. Her wide felt hat had its regulation cord and tassels, there were gauntlets on her small hands, and gaiters on her small legs. The sleeve of her boyish skirt carried its device, and she wore a cartridge belt, a…

UNDER FLYING HOOFS By Bertrand W. Sinclair

“Mormon Jack” stretched his generous length in the shade of the bed-wagon, thereby disturbing the sonorous slumbers of Johnny Layton, who muttered imprecations as he rolled over to make room. “You blasted Mormon renegade,” he growled. “Why don’t you go and lie down where you won’t be disturbin’ a fellow that has to stand guard to-night?” Надеюсь, вам понравиться: Сеть Культурных Каналов — https://t.me/addlist/c7ngCUTkDLw0ODZi Загляните, что-то вы точно захотите почитать, посмотреть или послушать. “You’re…

THE BLOOD OF A COMRADE By Neil Gillespie

“A short, severe war is less cruel than a long drawn-out fight,” said the captain, easily. “Of course it is! Everybody knows it! So why do the people at home criticise us, and libel and court-martial us because we use every means in our power to prevent further rebellion?” “They ought to be thankful we don’t use Spanish methods,” said Wilcox, the junior member of the mess. He was only six weeks out of his cadet gray, and a new arrival at Camp Chicobang. Надеюсь, вам понравиться: Сеть Культурных Каналов — …

THE JEWELS OF BENDITA By Gibert Cunyngham Terry

Old Bendito was digging when he found them—“the jewels of Bendita.” He had been ordered by Don Francisco to make a new border around the “Little Lake of the Emperor” (as it is called even to these days), and, grumbling mightily, the old man set lazily to work. Stopping only occasionally to refresh himself with a corn-husk cigarette, Bendito dug away for as much as two hours, when he was joined by his comrade, Andrés, who proceeded to pass the time of day. Надеюсь, вам понравиться: Сеть Культурных Каналов —…

THE WHITE GRAVE By C. Alfred

Harrison and his wife were evidently tenderfeet. Worse than that, they had never been outside the City of New York before; and why an inexperienced, city-bred young man like Harrison should have attempted to move a year’s outfit, which weighs a ton, over the Chilkoot Pass, and tempt Fate in the bleakness of the Yukon country, no one knew. Надеюсь, вам понравиться: Сеть Культурных Каналов — https://t.me/addlist/c7ngCUTkDLw0ODZi Загляните, что-то вы точно захотите почитать, посмотреть или послушать. The reason…

THE DOTTED TRAIL By W. H. Irwin

The first time that Dudley Latimer kissed Belle Sharp, the half-Spanish “help” at the P. L. Ranch, he was not in earnest; he would have been the last to say that there was any serious intention in it. He did it partly in a spirit of pure bravado, and partly because the morning was as warm and white as new milk, and she, smiling back over her shoulder as she emptied her pails, looked a part of it. Equally innocent of any harmful intent, she let him after a formal struggle. He was tall and clean, and as handsome…

OLD “HARD LUCK” By E. Munson

Every one admitted he had a good heart in him. Even his bitterest enemy, Kid Alderson, was willing to make that concession, but qualified it by adding that he “was so blamed unlucky and peculiar, a body never knowed when he was in to clear.” This singularity extended to his name. “H-o-s-s-e-l-k-u-s, accent on the sel,” he was wont to explain, with something like a shade of weariness, when a new operator faltered on his long patronymic. Надеюсь, вам понравиться: Сеть Культурных Каналов — https://t.me/addli…

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THE SORCERY OF ASENATH. By Maria Roberts

People often ask me why I gave up a promising business career and devoted myself to traveling, in which I find no pleasure; exploring, for which I have no taste; and archæology, which is to me the most tiring of pursuits. The question has never been answered, save by the statement that there is no reason to give, which involves the telling of an incredible story. Надеюсь, вам понравиться: Сеть Культурных Каналов — https://t.me/addlist/c7ngCUTkDLw0ODZi Загляните, что-то вы точно захотите почитать, посмотреть…

THE GREAT EUCHRE BOOM By Charles Fleming Embree

To Euchretown, Los Angeles County, came Mr. Stoker and his wife. He bought ranches, and, strikingly dressed, drove about in the rubber-tired buggies of real-estate agents; while Mrs. Stoker, a handsome young woman, sniffed the social air. Just what should she do to win, with éclat, the commanding place in the local feminine view? For her no slow progress to social supremacy! Rather the Napoleonic sweeping away of rivals. Надеюсь, вам понравиться: Сеть Культурных Каналов — https://t.me/addlist/c7ngCUTkDLw0ODZi…

LEAVES ON THE RIVER PASIG. By W. O. McGeehan

The Boulong casco lay on the Quiapo Market, which is on the left bank of the Pasig, just below the suspension-bridge. The Chinese junk—tradition says—was modeled after a whimsical emperor’s shoe, consequently the cascos of the Philippines, being really junks without sails, are not very dainty bits of naval architecture. As a rule, they are not accorded the dignity of a name; but this one was known as the “Boulong casco,” because it was owned and manned by members of one family. Santiago Boulong was steersman…