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Bransford of Rainbow Range Originally Published under the title of Bransford in Arcadia, or, The Little Eohippus   By: (1869-1934)

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First Page:

BRANSFORD OF RAINBOW RANGE

Originally Published under the title of

BRANSFORD IN ARCADIA Or, The Little Eohippus

by

EUGENE MANLOVE RHODES

Author of The Desire of the Moth, Good Men and True, West Is West, Etc.

Frontispiece by Harvey T. Dunn

Grosset & Dunlap Publishers New York

Made in the United States of America

Copyright, 1913, by Curtis Publishing Company

Copyright, 1914, by Henry Holt and Company

Copyright, 1920, by The H. K. Fly Company

[Illustration: THE HORSES WERE UNWILLING TO ENTER THE CIRCLE OF FIRELIGHT. Page 181]

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

PROLOGUE 1 I THE PITCHER THAT WENT TO THE WELL 27 II FIRST AID 35 III MAXWELTON BRAES 47 IV THE ROAD TO ROME 61 V THE MASKERS 71 VI THE ISLE OF ARCADY 86 VII STATES GENERAL 95 VIII ARCADES AMBO 106 IX TAKEN 113 X THE ALIBI 125 XI THE NETTLE, DANGER 136 XII THE SIEGE OF DOUBLE MOUNTAIN 150 XIII THE SIEGE OF DOUBLE MOUNTAIN ( continued ) 169 XIV FLIGHT 181 XV GOOD BY 194 XVI THE LAND OF AFTERNOON 205 XVII TWENTIETH CENTURY 215 XVIII AT THE RAINBOW'S END 226

BRANSFORD OF RAINBOW RANGE

BRANSFORD IN ARCADIA

PROLOGUE

I

The long fall round up was over. The wagon, homeward bound, made camp for the last night out at the Sinks of Lost River. Most of the men, worn with threescore night guards, were buried under their tarps in the deep sleep of the weary; sound as that of the just, and much more common.

By the low campfire a few yet lingered: old timers, iron men, whose wiry and seasoned strength was toil proof and Leo Ballinger, for whom youth, excitement and unsated novelty served in lieu of fitness.

The "firelighters," working the wide range again from Ancho to Hueco, from the Mal Pais to Glencoe, fell silent now, to mark an unstaled miracle.

The clustered lights of Rainbow's End shone redly, near and low. Beyond, above, dominant, the black, unbroken bulk of Rainbow Range shut out the east. The clear cut crest mellowed to luminous curves, feathery with far off pines; the long skyline thrilled with frosty fire, glowed, sparkled the cricket's chirp was stilled; the slow, late moon rose to a hushed and waiting world.

On the sharp crest she paused, irresolute, tiptoe, quivering, rosily aflush. Above floated a web of gossamer. She leaped up, spurning the black rim; glowed, palpitant, through that filmy lace and all the desert throbbed with vibrant light.

Cool and sweet and fresh, from maiden leagues of clean, brown earth the desert winds made whisper in grass and fragrant shrub; yucca, mesquite and greasewood swayed so softly, you had not known save as the long shadows courtesied and danced.

Leo flung up his hand. The air was wine to him. A year had left the desert still new and strange. "Gee!" he said eloquently.

Headlight nodded. "You're dead right on that point, son. If Christopher K. Columbus had only thought to beach his shallops on the sundown side of this here continent he might have made a name for himself. Just think how much different, hysterically, these United States "

" This United States," corrected Pringle dispassionately. Their fathers had disagreed on the same grammatical point.

Headlight scowled... Continue reading book >>




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