The Silver Canyon: A Tale of the Western Plains

Nonfiction, Religion & Spirituality, New Age, History, Fiction & Literature
Cover of the book The Silver Canyon: A Tale of the Western Plains by George Manville Fenn, Library of Alexandria
View on Amazon View on AbeBooks View on Kobo View on B.Depository View on eBay View on Walmart
Author: George Manville Fenn ISBN: 9781465620408
Publisher: Library of Alexandria Publication: March 8, 2015
Imprint: Language: English
Author: George Manville Fenn
ISBN: 9781465620408
Publisher: Library of Alexandria
Publication: March 8, 2015
Imprint:
Language: English

“Well, Joses,” said Dr Lascelles, “if you feel afraid, you had better go back to the city.” There was a dead silence here, and the little party grouped about between a small umbrella-shaped tent and the dying embers of the fire, at which a meal of savoury antelope steaks had lately been cooked, carefully avoided glancing one at the other. Just inside the entrance of the tent, a pretty, slightly-made girl of about seventeen was seated, busily plying her needle in the repair of some rents in a pair of ornamented loose leather leggings that had evidently been making acquaintance with some of the thorns of the rugged land. She was very simply dressed, and, though wearing the high comb and depending veil of a Spanish woman, her complexion, tanned is it was, and features, suggested that she was English, as did also the speech of the fine athletic middle-aged man who had just been speaking. His appearance, too, was decidedly Spanish, for he wore the short jacket with embroidered sleeves, tight trousers—made very wide about the leg and ankle-sash, and broad sombrero of the Mexican-Spanish inhabitant of the south-western regions of the great American continent. The man addressed was a swarthy-looking half-breed, who lay upon the parched earth, his brow rugged, his eyes half-closed, and lips pouted out in a surly, resentful way, as if he were just about to speak and say something nasty. Three more men of a similar type were lying beside and behind, all smoking cigarettes, which from time to time they softly rolled up and lighted with a brand at the fire, as they seemed to listen to the conversation going on between the bronzed Englishman and him who had been addressed as Joses. They were all half-breeds, and boasted of their English blood, but always omitted to say anything about the Indian fluid that coursed through their veins; while they followed neither the fashion of Englishman nor Indian in costume, but, like the first speaker, were dressed as Spaniards, each also wearing a handkerchief of bright colour tied round his head and beneath his soft hat, just as if a wound had been received, with a long showy blanket depending from the shoulder, and upon which they now half lay. There was another present, however, also an anxious watcher of the scene, and that was a well-built youth of about the same age as the girl. For the last five minutes he had been busily cleaning his rifle and oiling the lock; and this task done, he let the weapon rest with its butt upon the rocky earth, its sling-strap hanging loose, and its muzzle lying in his hand as he leaned against a rock and looked sharply from face to face, waiting to hear the result of the conversation. His appearance was different to that of his companions, for he wore a closely fitting tunic and loose breeches of what at the first glance seemed to be dark tan-coloured velvet, but a second look showed to be very soft, well-prepared deerskin; stout gaiters of a hard leather protected his legs; a belt, looped so as to form a cartridge-holder, and a natty little felt hat, completed his costume.

View on Amazon View on AbeBooks View on Kobo View on B.Depository View on eBay View on Walmart

“Well, Joses,” said Dr Lascelles, “if you feel afraid, you had better go back to the city.” There was a dead silence here, and the little party grouped about between a small umbrella-shaped tent and the dying embers of the fire, at which a meal of savoury antelope steaks had lately been cooked, carefully avoided glancing one at the other. Just inside the entrance of the tent, a pretty, slightly-made girl of about seventeen was seated, busily plying her needle in the repair of some rents in a pair of ornamented loose leather leggings that had evidently been making acquaintance with some of the thorns of the rugged land. She was very simply dressed, and, though wearing the high comb and depending veil of a Spanish woman, her complexion, tanned is it was, and features, suggested that she was English, as did also the speech of the fine athletic middle-aged man who had just been speaking. His appearance, too, was decidedly Spanish, for he wore the short jacket with embroidered sleeves, tight trousers—made very wide about the leg and ankle-sash, and broad sombrero of the Mexican-Spanish inhabitant of the south-western regions of the great American continent. The man addressed was a swarthy-looking half-breed, who lay upon the parched earth, his brow rugged, his eyes half-closed, and lips pouted out in a surly, resentful way, as if he were just about to speak and say something nasty. Three more men of a similar type were lying beside and behind, all smoking cigarettes, which from time to time they softly rolled up and lighted with a brand at the fire, as they seemed to listen to the conversation going on between the bronzed Englishman and him who had been addressed as Joses. They were all half-breeds, and boasted of their English blood, but always omitted to say anything about the Indian fluid that coursed through their veins; while they followed neither the fashion of Englishman nor Indian in costume, but, like the first speaker, were dressed as Spaniards, each also wearing a handkerchief of bright colour tied round his head and beneath his soft hat, just as if a wound had been received, with a long showy blanket depending from the shoulder, and upon which they now half lay. There was another present, however, also an anxious watcher of the scene, and that was a well-built youth of about the same age as the girl. For the last five minutes he had been busily cleaning his rifle and oiling the lock; and this task done, he let the weapon rest with its butt upon the rocky earth, its sling-strap hanging loose, and its muzzle lying in his hand as he leaned against a rock and looked sharply from face to face, waiting to hear the result of the conversation. His appearance was different to that of his companions, for he wore a closely fitting tunic and loose breeches of what at the first glance seemed to be dark tan-coloured velvet, but a second look showed to be very soft, well-prepared deerskin; stout gaiters of a hard leather protected his legs; a belt, looped so as to form a cartridge-holder, and a natty little felt hat, completed his costume.

More books from Library of Alexandria

Cover of the book Vedânta-Sûtras: Part II by George Manville Fenn
Cover of the book Caxton's Book: A Collection of Essays, Poems, Tales and Sketches by George Manville Fenn
Cover of the book Le lion du désert: Scènes de la vie indienne dans les prairies by George Manville Fenn
Cover of the book Agriculture for Beginners by George Manville Fenn
Cover of the book Christopher and Columbus by George Manville Fenn
Cover of the book America (Complete Six Volumes) by George Manville Fenn
Cover of the book The Blue Rose Fairy Book by George Manville Fenn
Cover of the book A Plea for Old Cap Collier by George Manville Fenn
Cover of the book The Life of St. Teresa of Jesus of the Order of Our Lady of Carmel by George Manville Fenn
Cover of the book The Missing Link in Modern Spiritualism by George Manville Fenn
Cover of the book The Religion of Ancient Egypt by George Manville Fenn
Cover of the book The Confederate First Reader by George Manville Fenn
Cover of the book History of the Expedition to Russia: Undertaken by the Emperor Napoleon in the Year 1812 by George Manville Fenn
Cover of the book Abraham Lincoln and the London Punch: Cartoons, Comments and Poems Published in the London Charivari During the American Civil War (1861-1865) by George Manville Fenn
Cover of the book The Path of Light by George Manville Fenn
We use our own "cookies" and third party cookies to improve services and to see statistical information. By using this website, you agree to our Privacy Policy