Story. Страница 3

TEN THOUSAND YEARS IN ICE. By Robert Duncan Milne

While lounging listlessly along the sea-wall one afternoon about the beginning of August last—the eighth, I think it was—enjoying the sunshine and inhaling the sea-breeze, my attention was attracted to an unusual bustle and commotion on the quay of Section Two. I could see from where I was that considerable exertions were being made to transfer some heavy object from a vessel moored alongside the quay to the quay itself. As I got nearer I discovered by the name on the stern that the vessel was the whaling-bark Marion…

A DOUBLE SHOT. By Stewart Edward White

Pat McCann came up from the plains into the hills in a bad humor with himself and the world. He had tried to be a cow-puncher and had been promptly bucked off; he had tackled the cooking problem and only escaped mobbing by resigning his job; now he had dragged his little, squab form, with its hanging arms, up into the hills to try mining. He applied to the first camp he came to. King, the foreman, gave him a job. Знаю, что любите почитать. И подозреваю, что вам понравиться это — Сеть Культурных Каналов — h…

THE SEATS OF JUDGMENT. By C. W. Doyle

I. That Two Eyes are Better than One in the Dark. “Thou hast the writings of Le Toy, Wau Shun?” asked Sam Lee of his brother-highbinder, as the latter issued from the receiving hospital of San Francisco. “Verily, or thou hadst heard my dogs bark within,” replied Wau Shun. “And Lee Toy?” Знаю, что любите почитать. И подозреваю, что вам понравиться это — Сеть Культурных Каналов — https://t.me/addlist/c7ngCUTkDLw0ODZi Что-то вы точно захотите почитать, посмотреть или послушать. Загляните. (☝🏻если ссылка не…

THE JACK-POT. By Charles Dwight Willard

There were five of us in the party—six, counting Long Tom, the guide. After two days’ hard climbing, which the burros endured with exemplary fortitude, we arrived at the little valley high up in the mountains, through which threaded the trout-stream. Знаю, что любите почитать. И подозреваю, что вам понравиться это — Сеть Культурных Каналов — https://t.me/addlist/c7ngCUTkDLw0ODZi Что-то вы точно захотите почитать, посмотреть или послушать. Загляните. (☝🏻если ссылка не работает, то обновите Telegram в GooglePlay…

CONSCIENCE MONEY. By Geraldine Bonner

In January the darkness settles early in Paris. It was not yet five, and it was closing in, soft and sudden. This particular night it was rendered denser by the light rain that was falling—one of those needle-pointed, noiseless rains that come in the midst of a Paris winter and persist for days. Знаю, что любите почитать. И подозреваю, что вам понравиться это — Сеть Культурных Каналов — https://t.me/addlist/c7ngCUTkDLw0ODZi Что-то вы точно захотите почитать, посмотреть или послушать. Загляните. (☝🏻если ссылка…

THE MAN-HUNTERS’ REWARD. By Buckey O’Neill

“That isn’t a bad reward!” “No; if a fellow could catch him, he would make pretty good wages. Let’s see,” and the second speaker began to read the postal-card that the postmaster at Hard Scrabble had just tacked to the door of the store that constituted the “office,” so that every one might read: Знаю, что любите почитать. И подозреваю, что вам понравиться это — Сеть Культурных Каналов — https://t.me/addlist/c7ngCUTkDLw0ODZi Что-то вы точно захотите почитать, посмотреть или послушать. Загляните. (☝🏻если ссылка…

THE RAJAH’S NEMESIS. By W. C. Morrow

In my travels abroad I once encountered an extraordinary illustration of the shifts to which Nature will resort in her efforts to overcome the inconvenience arising from a deprivation of the tools with which she is accustomed to work; and the facts of the case are sufficiently peculiar and tragic to warrant their relation. Знаю, что любите почитать. И подозреваю, что вам понравиться это — Сеть Культурных Каналов — https://t.me/addlist/c7ngCUTkDLw0ODZi Что-то вы точно захотите почитать, посмотреть или послушать.…

THE RACE BOND. By Gwendolen Overton

The whistle of the steamer saluted three times—twice short and once long—the sun which rose over the deep green mountains of Costa Rica. The signal was answered in due time. A small tug put off from the long iron pier. There was a launch at the end of its tow line, a big, flat scow of a lighter. It came out across the smooth mother-of-pearl stretch of water, jerking and bobbing over the great Pacific swells. The tug shot by the steamer, the launch threw loose the tow line, and as it came alongside the forward…

A CAGED LION. By Frank Norris

In front of the entrance a “spieler” stood on a starch-box and beat upon a piece of tin with a stick, and we weakly succumbed to his frenzied appeals and went inside. We did this, I am sure, partly to please the “spieler,” who would have been dreadfully disappointed if we had not done so, but partly, too, to please Toppan, who was always interested in the great beasts and liked to watch them. Знаю, что любите почитать. И подозреваю, что вам понравиться это — Сеть Культурных Каналов — https://t.me/addlist/c7ngCUTkDLw0ODZi…

MOON FACE. By Jack London

John Claverhouse was a moon-faced man. You know the kind—cheek-bones wide apart, chin and forehead melting into the cheeks to complete the perfect round, and the nose, broad and pudgy, equidistant from the circumference, flattened against the very centre of the face like a dough-ball upon the ceiling. Perhaps that is why I hated him, for truly he had become an offense to my eyes, and I believed the earth to be cumbered with his presence. Perhaps my mother may have been superstitious of the moon and looked upon…

THE OLIVE. By ALGERNON BLACKWOOD

(From Pearson's Magazine, London) 1922 He laughed involuntarily as the olive rolled towards his chair across the shiny parquet floor of the hotel dining-room. His table in the cavernous salle à manger was apart: he sat alone, a solitary guest; the table from which the olive fell and rolled towards him was some distance away. The angle, however, made him an unlikely objective. Yet the lob-sided, juicy thing, after hesitating once or twice en route as it plopped along, came to rest finally against his feet.…

THE LOOKING GLASS. By J.D. BERESFORD

(From The Cornhill Magazine) 1921, 1922 This was the first communication that had come from her aunt in Rachel's lifetime. "I think your aunt has forgiven me, at last," her father said as he passed the letter across the table. Знаю, что любите почитать. И подозреваю, что вам понравиться это — Сеть Культурных Каналов — https://t.me/addlist/c7ngCUTkDLw0ODZi Что-то вы точно захотите почитать, посмотреть или послушать. Загляните. (☝🏻если ссылка не работает, то обновите Telegram в GooglePlay или в App Store)…

GIDEON. By Wells Hastings

“An’ de next’ frawg dat houn’ pup seen, he pass him by wide.” The house, which had hung upon every word, roared with laughter, and shook with a storming volley of applause. Gideon bowed to right and to left, low, grinning, assured comedy obeisances; but as the laughter and applause grew he shook his head, and signaled quietly for the drop. He had answered many encores, and he was an instinctive artist. It was part of the fuel of his vanity that his audience had never yet had enough of him. Dramatic judgment…