War Trail:

The War Trail: The Hunt of the Wild Horse

Name: The War Trail: The Hunt of the Wild Horse
Author: Reid, Mayne, 1818-1883

作者：Reid, Mayne, 1818-1883
体例：题　章数：249
字数：708,691　来源：Project Gutenberg

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章节目录

共 249 题

Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
CHAPTER ONE.
SOUVENIRS.
CHAPTER TWO.
A MEXICAN FRONTIER VILLAGE.
CHAPTER THREE.
THE RANGERS ON PICKET.
CHAPTER FOUR.
MAKING A CAPTIVE.
CHAPTER FIVE.
MY CAPTIVE.
I made the offer as delicately as I could. It was rejected with scorn!
CHAPTER SIX.
ISOLINA DE VARGAS.
I wavered betwixt duty and over-politeness: a compromise offered itself.
My captive broke into unrestrained laughter, crying out at intervals--
I now fully comprehended the motive of her flight.
I trembled as she spoke.
I was choking with vexation, and could not reply. I began to hate her.
CHAPTER SEVEN.
AN ORDER TO FORAGE.
I opened the dispatch, and read:--
CHAPTER EIGHT.
DON RAMON.
CHAPTER NINE.
I understood the universal sign, and remained silent.
CHAPTER TEN.
AN OLD ENMITY.
Breaking into a wild laugh, he shrieked out--
I turned to my companion, and addressed him in some warmth--
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
RAFAEL IJURRA.
Read from an eye-witness:--
CHAPTER TWELVE.
THE YELLOW DOMINO.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
THE BLUE DOMINO.
Her reply:--
After giving way to some such reflections, I replied--
I felt the rebuke.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
LOVE-THOUGHTS.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
AN ODD EPISTLE.
One expression alone puzzled me--
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
THE MANADA.
Without delay, we proceeded to effect the "surround."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
THE HUNT OF THE WILD-HORSE.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
THE PHANTOM-HORSE.
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
A PRAIRIE DREAM.
CHAPTER TWENTY.
LOST UPON THE PRAIRIE.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
A PRAIRIE REPAST.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.
CHASED BY A "GRIZZLY."
I sprang into the pond without a moment of hesitation.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
THE TOUGHEST STRUGGLE OF MY LIFE.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
OLD COMRADES.
I certainly _was_ dead. But no; it cannot have been. I still live!
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
A QUEER CONVERSATION.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.
VOWS OF VENGEANCE.
I soon fell asleep again, and this time slept long and profoundly.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
RUBE ROASTED ALIVE.
After a moment he continued, his voice still tremulous with sorrow--
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.
THE MESA.
CHAPTER THIRTY.
GUERRILLEROS.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.
THE PARLEY.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.
A DEAD SHOT.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.
A RUNNING-SHOT.
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.
RUBE'S CHARGER.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.
EL ZORRO.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.
A PLAN OF ESCAPE.
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.
ELIJAH QUACKENBOSS.
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.
RUBE'S PLAN.
Rube's reply was the interrogatory, "How long's yur trail-rope, Bill?"
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.
SCALING THE CLIFF.
I saw that the rope had been fastened round the trunk of a small tree.
CHAPTER FORTY.
A REINFORCEMENT.
CHAPTER FORTY ONE.
THE INDIAN SPY.
I kept my eyes fixed on the spot, and waited for the returning light.
CHAPTER FORTY TWO.
THE CABALLADA.
CHAPTER FORTY THREE.
A CHAPTER OF EXPLANATIONS.
CHAPTER FORTY FOUR.
DUTCH LIGE IN A DIFFICULTY.
CHAPTER FORTY FIVE.
A LOVER ON THE TRAIL.
There was no letter, no message beyond "_mil gracias_."
CHAPTER FORTY SIX.
A DECLARATION ON HORSEBACK.
I felt embarrassed, and replied not.
CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN.
STRAYED FROM THE TRACK.
I announced my name and rank.
I now saw that we were in a real dilemma.
I well knew the accuracy of his aim; I trembled for the result.
In my loudest voice I called out--
CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT.
AN ADIOS.
CHAPTER FORTY NINE.
THREATS.
I saw the proud girl start, as if struck with an arrow.
The fiend continued:--
CHAPTER FIFTY.
AWKWARD ODDS.
Without noticing the insinuation, he replied--
I grew wearied to death, and every second growing weaker and fainter.
CHAPTER FIFTY ONE.
AN OFFICIAL BLACK LIST.
CHAPTER FIFTY TWO.
THE ROUTE.
The usual reply, accompanied with a display of pretty white teeth, is--
CHAPTER FIFTY THREE.
CAMP GOSSIP.
CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR.
THE RUINED RANCHO.
CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE.
A CRUEL PROSCRIPTION.
Others cried out, "_Sacan las orejas_!" (Cut off their ears.)
I was joyed by this decision; _I_ could not have waited.
CHAPTER FIFTY SIX.
THE BIVOUAC OF THE GUERRILLA.
I thought not of pursuit; my mind was bent on a far different purpose.
CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN.
TAKING THE TRAIL.
I was insensible only for a short while; the cold water revived me.
I groaned as I listened to the details.
CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT.
THE VOYAGEUR.
CHAPTER FIFTY NINE.
TRAILING BY TORCH-LIGHT.
CHAPTER SIXTY.
THE SOMBRERO.
CHAPTER SIXTY ONE.
THE TRAIL RECOVERED.
CHAPTER SIXTY TWO.
WOLVES ON THE TRACK.
I groaned under the horrid apprehension.
CHAPTER SIXTY THREE.
ACROSS THE TORRENT.
CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR.
A LILLIPUTIAN FOREST.
CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE.
SCATTERING THE WILD STALLIONS.
CHAPTER SIXTY SIX.
LOST IN A CHAPPARAL.
CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN.
ENCOUNTER WITH JAVALL.
I dropped the rein upon his neck, and left him to his will.
CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT.
THE WOODS ON FIRE?
Stanfield was a backwoodsman--his thoughts ran upon "woods."
I halloed as we advanced.
CHAPTER SIXTY NINE.
SMOKE AND THIRST.
CHAPTER SEVENTY.
A BURNT PRAIRIE.
CHAPTER SEVENTY ONE.
THE TALK OF THE TRACKERS.
CHAPTER SEVENTY TWO.
CHAPTER SEVENTY THREE.
TRANSLATING THE "SIGN."
CHAPTER SEVENTY FOUR.
THE STEED LAZOED.
CHAPTER SEVENTY FIVE.
THE "INDIOS BRAVOS."
CHAPTER SEVENTY SIX.
ON THE WAR-TRAIL.
CHAPTER SEVENTY SEVEN.
THE WRITING ON THE MAGUEY.
CHAPTER SEVENTY EIGHT.
THE SOUTHERN SAVAGE.
CHAPTER SEVENTY NINE.
A SUBTERRANEAN FIRE.
CHAPTER EIGHTY.
A RED EPISTLE.
CHAPTER EIGHTY ONE.
MORE WRITING IN RED.
CHAPTER EIGHTY TWO.
AN "INJUN ON THE BACK-TRACK."
CHAPTER EIGHTY THREE.
MY PLAN.
CHAPTER EIGHTY FOUR.
I turned back to reconnoitre his person.
CHAPTER EIGHTY FIVE.
THE LAST HOURS ON THE TRAIL.
CHAPTER EIGHTY SIX.
THE COMANCHE CAMP.
CHAPTER EIGHTY SEVEN.
NO COVER.
What other plan?--what--
CHAPTER EIGHTY EIGHT.
RUBE CONSULTING HIS ORACLE.
CHAPTER EIGHTY NINE.
THE TRAPPER'S COUNSEL.
CHAPTER NINETY.
TAKING TO THE WATER.
CHAPTER NINETY ONE.
UP-STREAM.
CHAPTER NINETY TWO.
COUP-D'OEIL OF THE CAMP.
CHAPTER NINETY THREE.
A FRIENDLY ENCOUNTER.
I was consoled by the thought--strange source of consolation!
CHAPTER NINETY FOUR.
THE COUNCIL.
CHAPTER NINETY FIVE.
MEASURING THE CHANCES.
CHAPTER NINETY SIX.
THE WHITE-HAIRED CHIEF.
I had no doubt of it, and my conjecture proved to be correct.
CHAPTER NINETY SEVEN.
SPEECHES IN COUNCIL.
Once more the crier's voice was heard calling "Wakono!"
CHAPTER NINETY EIGHT.
A ROUGH COURTSHIP.
CHAPTER NINETY NINE.
THE CRISIS.
I waited neither to see nor hear more.
I drew out the spear, and, keeping the white horse in view, ran on.
I had no time to reflect--not a moment.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED.
THE LAST CHASE.
I was too happy to sleep.