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Full Online Book HomeAuthor Charles G. D. RobertsPage 1
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The Raid From Beausejour The Raid From Beausejour

The Raid From Beausejour
CHAPTER I. "BEAUBASSIN MUST GO!" On the hill of Beausejour, one April morning in the year 1750 A.D., a little group of French soldiers stood watching, with gestures of anger and alarm, the approach of several small ships across the yellow waters of Chignecto Bay. The ships were flying British colors. Presently they came to anchor near the mouth of the Missaguash, a narrow tidal river about two miles to the southeast of Beausejour. There the ships lay swinging at their cables, and all seemed quiet on board. The group on Beausejour knew that the British would attempt no landing for... Short Stories - Post by : poakland - Date : September 2011 - Author : Charles G. D. Roberts - Read : 2364

How The Carter Boys Lifted The Mortgage How The Carter Boys Lifted The Mortgage

How The Carter Boys Lifted The Mortgage
CHAPTER I. CATCHING A TARTAR. As long as they could remember, the roaring flow and rippling ebb of the great tides had been the most conspicuous and companionable sounds in the ears of Will and Ted Carter. The deep, red channel of the creek that swept past their house to meet the Tantramar, a half mile further on, was marked on the old maps, dating from the days of Acadian occupation, by the name of the Petit Canard. But to the boys, as to all the villagers of quiet Frosty Hollow, it was known as "the Crick." To "the Crick" the... Short Stories - Post by : Betty_Cleveland - Date : September 2011 - Author : Charles G. D. Roberts - Read : 2817

The Duel On The Trail The Duel On The Trail

The Duel On The Trail
White and soft over the wide, sloping upland lay the snow, marked across with the zigzag gray lines of the fences, and spotted here and there with little clumps of woods or patches of bushy pasture. The sky above was white as the earth below, being mantled with snow-laden cloud not yet ready to spill its feathery burden on the world. One little farm-house, far down the valley, served but to emphasize the spacious emptiness of the silent winter landscape. Out from one of the snow-streaked thickets jumped a white rabbit, its long ears waving nervously, and paused for a second... Short Stories - Post by : Jason_Lewis - Date : September 2011 - Author : Charles G. D. Roberts - Read : 2563

The Bear's Face The Bear's Face

The Bear's Face
CHAPTER I "There ain't no denying but what you give us a great show, Job," said the barkeeper, with that air of patronage which befits the man who presides over and autocratically controls the varied activities of a saloon in a Canadian lumber town. "It is a good show!" assented Job Toomey, modestly. He leaned up against the bar in orthodox fashion, just as if his order had been "whiskey fer mine!" but being a really great animal trainer, whose eye must be always clear and his nerve always steady as a rock, his glass contained nothing stronger than milk and... Short Stories - Post by : Lenny_Eng - Date : September 2011 - Author : Charles G. D. Roberts - Read : 2923

Lone Wolf Lone Wolf

Lone Wolf
CHAPTER I Not, like his grim ancestors for a thousand generations, in some dark cave of the hills was he whelped, but in a narrow iron cage littered with straw. Two brothers and a sister made at the same time a like inauspicious entrance upon an alien and fettered existence. And because their silent, untamable mother loved too savagely the hereditary freedom of her race to endure the thought of bearing her young into a life of bondage, she would have killed them mercifully, even while their blind baby mouths were groping for her breasts. But the watchful keeper forestalled her.... Short Stories - Post by : John_Sikora - Date : September 2011 - Author : Charles G. D. Roberts - Read : 1675

Back To The Water World Back To The Water World

Back To The Water World
CHAPTER I An iron coast, bleak, black, and desolate, without harborage for so much as a catboat for leagues to north or south. A coast so pitiless, so lashed forever by the long, sullen rollers of the North Atlantic, so tormented by the shifting and treacherous currents of the tide between its chains of outlying rocky islets, that no ship ever ventured willingly within miles of its uncompromising menace. A coast so little favored by summer that even in glowing August the sun could reach it seldom through its cold and drenching fogs. Perhaps half a mile off shore lay the... Short Stories - Post by : Irma_Dhanio - Date : September 2011 - Author : Charles G. D. Roberts - Read : 2204

The Lord Of The Glass House The Lord Of The Glass House

The Lord Of The Glass House
CHAPTER I In the sheltered Caribbean cove the water was warm as milk, green and clear as liquid beryl, and shot through with shimmering sun. Under that stimulating yet mitigated radiance the bottom of the cove was astir with strange life, grotesque in form, but brilliant as jewels or flowers. Long, shining weeds, red, yellow, amber, purple, and olive, waved sinuously among the weed-like sea-anemones which outshone them in colored sheen. Fantastic pink-and-orange crabs sidled awkwardly but nimbly this way and that. Tiny sea-horses, yet more fantastic, slipped shyly from one weed-covert to another, aware of a possible peril in every... Short Stories - Post by : crackie58 - Date : September 2011 - Author : Charles G. D. Roberts - Read : 1619

The Sun-gazer The Sun-gazer

The Sun-gazer
CHAPTER I To Jim Horner it seemed as if the great, white-headed eagle was in some way the uttered word of the mountain and the lake--of the lofty, solitary, granite-crested peak, and of the deep, solitary water at its base. As his canoe raced down the last mad rapid, and seemed to snatch breath again as it floated out upon the still water of the lake, Jim would rest his paddle across the gunwales and look upward expectantly. First his keen, far-sighted, gray eyes would sweep the blue arc of sky, in search of the slow circling of wide, motionless wings.... Short Stories - Post by : maileen - Date : September 2011 - Author : Charles G. D. Roberts - Read : 2938

The Gray Master The Gray Master

The Gray Master
CHAPTER I Why he was so much bigger, more powerful, and more implacably savage than the other members of the gray, spectral pack, which had appeared suddenly from the north to terrorize their lone and scattered clearings, the settlers of the lower Quah-Davic Valley could not guess. Those who were of French descent among them, and full of the old Acadian superstitions, explained it simply enough by saying he was a loup-garou, or "wer-wolf," and resigned themselves to the impossibility of contending against a creature of such supernatural malignity and power. But their fellows of English speech, having no such tradition... Short Stories - Post by : st0ckman - Date : September 2011 - Author : Charles G. D. Roberts - Read : 3530

The Monarch Of Park Barren The Monarch Of Park Barren

The Monarch Of Park Barren
CHAPTER I From the cold spring lakes and sombre deeps of spruce forest, over which the bald granite peak of Old Saugamauk kept endless guard, came reports of a moose of more than royal stature, whose antlers beggared all records for symmetry and spread. From a home-coming lumber cruiser here, a wandering Indian there, the word came straggling in, till the settlements about the lower reaches of the river began to believe there might be some truth behind the wild tales. Then--for it was autumn, the season of gold and crimson falling leaves, and battles on the lake-shores under the white... Short Stories - Post by : Gizmo - Date : September 2011 - Author : Charles G. D. Roberts - Read : 2905

The King Of The Flaming Hoops The King Of The Flaming Hoops

The King Of The Flaming Hoops
CHAPTER I The white, scarred face of the mountain looked straight east, over a vast basin of tumbled, lesser hills, dim black forests, and steel-blue loops of a far-winding water. Here and there long, level strata of pallid mist seemed to support themselves on the tree-tops, their edges fading off into the startling transparency that comes upon the air with the first of dawn. But that was in the lower world. Up on the solitary summit of White Face the daybreak had arrived. The jagged crest of the peak shot sudden radiances of flame-crimson, then bathed itself in a flow of... Short Stories - Post by : Christine_M - Date : September 2011 - Author : Charles G. D. Roberts - Read : 3273

Last Bull Last Bull

Last Bull
That was what two grim old sachems of the Dacotahs had dubbed him; and though his official title, on the lists of the Zoological Park, was "Kaiser," the new and more significant name had promptly supplanted it. The Park authorities--people of imagination and of sentiment, as must all be who would deal successfully with wild animals--had felt at once that the name aptly embodied the tragedies and the romantic memories of his all-but-vanished race. They had felt, too, that the two old braves who had been brought East to adorn a city pageant, and who had stood gazing stoically for hours... Short Stories - Post by : aneeskhan - Date : September 2011 - Author : Charles G. D. Roberts - Read : 891

Melindy And The Spring Bear Melindy And The Spring Bear

Melindy And The Spring Bear
Soft, wet and tender, with a faint green filming the sodden pasture field, and a rose-pink veil covering the maples, and blue-grey catkins tinting the dark alders, spring had come to the lonely little clearing in the backwoods. From the swampy meadow along the brook's edge, across the road from the cabin and the straw-littered barn-yard, came toward evening that music which is the distinctive note of the northern spring--the thrilling, mellow, inexpressibly wistful fluting of the frogs. The sun was just withdrawing his uppermost rim behind the far-off black horizon line of fir-tops. The cabin door stood wide open to... Short Stories - Post by : Joyce_Turner - Date : August 2011 - Author : Charles G. D. Roberts - Read : 1735

The Battle In The Mist The Battle In The Mist

The Battle In The Mist
In the silver-grey between dawn and sunrise the river was filled with mist from bank to bank. It coiled and writhed and rolled, here thinning, there thickening, as if breathed upon irregularly by innumerable unseen mouths. But there was no wind astir; and the brown-black, glistening current beneath the white folds was glassy smooth save where the occasional big swirls boiled up with a swishing gurgle, or the running wave broke musically around an upthrust shoulder of rock or a weedy snag. The river was not wide--not more than fifty yards from bank to bank; but from the birch canoe slipping... Essays - Post by : academy - Date : August 2011 - Author : Charles G. D. Roberts - Read : 1082

Mrs. Gammit And The Porcupines Mrs. Gammit And The Porcupines

Mrs. Gammit And The Porcupines
"I hain't come to borry yer gun, Mr. Barron, but to ax yer advice." Mrs. Gammit's rare appearances were always abrupt, like her speech; and it was without surprise--though he had not seen her for a month or more--that Joe Barron turned to greet her. "It's at yer sarvice, jest as the gun would be ef ye wanted it, Mrs. Gammit--_an'_ welcome! But come in an' set down an' git cooled off a mite. 'Tain't no place to talk, out here in the bilin' sun." Mrs. Gammit seated herself on the end of the bench, just inside the kitchen door, twitched... Short Stories - Post by : remo.cortigiani - Date : August 2011 - Author : Charles G. D. Roberts - Read : 3064

The Nest Of The Mallard The Nest Of The Mallard

The Nest Of The Mallard
When the spring freshet went down, and the rushes sprang green all about the edges of the shallow, marshy lagoons, a pair of mallards took possession of a tiny, bushy island in the centre of the broadest pond. Moved by one of those inexplicable caprices which keep most of the wild kindreds from too perilous an enslavement to routine, this pair had been attracted by the vast, empty levels of marsh and mere, and had dropped out from the ranks of their northward-journeying comrades. Why should they beat on through the raw, blustering spring winds to Labrador, when here below them... Essays - Post by : Tortuga505 - Date : August 2011 - Author : Charles G. D. Roberts - Read : 2552

The Grip In Deep Hole The Grip In Deep Hole

The Grip In Deep Hole
The roar of the falls, the lighter and shriller raging of the rapids, had at last died out behind the thick masses of the forest, as Barnes worked his way down the valley. The heat in the windless underbrush, alive with insects, was stifling. He decided to make once more for the bank of the stream, in the hope that its character might by this time have changed, so as to afford him an easier and more open path. Pressing aside to his left, he presently saw the green gloom lighten before him. Blue sky and golden light came low through... Short Stories - Post by : Laurence_Baker - Date : August 2011 - Author : Charles G. D. Roberts - Read : 2167

The Iron Edge Of Winter The Iron Edge Of Winter

The Iron Edge Of Winter
The glory of the leaves was gone; the glory of the snow was not yet come; and the world, smitten with bitter frost, was grey like steel. The ice was black and clear and vitreous on the forest pools. The clods on the ploughed field, the broken hillocks in the pasture, the ruts of the winding backwoods road, were hard as iron and rang under the travelling hoof. The silent, naked woods, moved only by the bleak wind drawing through them from the north, seemed as if life had forgotten them. Suddenly there came a light thud, thud, thud, with a... Essays - Post by : dleyanna - Date : August 2011 - Author : Charles G. D. Roberts - Read : 2701

The Blackwater Pot The Blackwater Pot

The Blackwater Pot
The lesson of fear was one which Henderson learned late. He learned it well, however, when the time came. And it was Blackwater Pot that taught him. Sluggishly, reluctantly, impotently, the spruce logs followed one another round and round the circuit of the great stone pot. The circling water within the pot was smooth and deep and black, but streaked with foam. At one side a gash in the rocky rim opened upon the sluicing current of the river, which rushed on, quivering and seething, to plunge with a roar into the terrific cauldron of the falls. Out of that thunderous... Short Stories - Post by : eagle75 - Date : August 2011 - Author : Charles G. D. Roberts - Read : 3211

Mrs. Gammit's Pig Mrs. Gammit's Pig

Mrs. Gammit's Pig
"I've come to borry yer gun!" said Mrs. Gammit, appearing suddenly, a self-reliant figure, at the open door of the barn where Joe Barron sat mending his harness. She wore a short cotton homespun petticoat and a dingy waist; while a limp pink cotton sunbonnet, pushed far back from her perspiring forehead, released unmanageable tufts of her stiff, iron-grey hair. "What be _you_ awantin' of a gun, Mrs. Gammit?" inquired the backwoodsman, looking up without surprise. He had not seen Mrs. Gammit, to be sure, for three months; but he had known all the time that she was there, on the... Short Stories - Post by : lounorco - Date : August 2011 - Author : Charles G. D. Roberts - Read : 1902