Jubal Sackett (1985)
“A cold wind blew off Hanging Dog Mountain and I had no fire, nor dared I strike so much as a spark that might betray my hiding place. Somewhere near, an enemy lurked, waiting.
Yesterday morning, watching my back trail, I saw a deer startle, cross a meadow in great bounds, and disappear into the forest. Later, shortly after high sun, two birds flew up suddenly. Something was following me.
Warm in my blanket, I huddled below a low earthen bank, concealed by brush and a fallen tree. The wind swept... by above me, worrying my mind because its sound might cover the approach of an enemy creeping closer. There he could lie waiting to kill me when I arose from my hiding place.
I, Jubal Sackett, was but a day's journey from our home in Shooting Creek in the foothills of the Nantahalas, close upon Chunky Gal Mountain.
All the enemies of whom I knew were far from here, yet any stranger was a potential enemy, and he was a wise traveler who was forever alert.
Our white enemies were beyond the sea, and our only red enemies were the Seneca, living far away to the north beyond Hudson's River.MoreLess
Yesterday morning, watching my back trail, I saw a deer startle, cross a meadow in great bounds, and disappear into the forest. Later, shortly after high sun, two birds flew up suddenly. Something was following me.
Warm in my blanket, I huddled below a low earthen bank, concealed by brush and a fallen tree. The wind swept... by above me, worrying my mind because its sound might cover the approach of an enemy creeping closer. There he could lie waiting to kill me when I arose from my hiding place.
I, Jubal Sackett, was but a day's journey from our home in Shooting Creek in the foothills of the Nantahalas, close upon Chunky Gal Mountain.
All the enemies of whom I knew were far from here, yet any stranger was a potential enemy, and he was a wise traveler who was forever alert.
Our white enemies were beyond the sea, and our only red enemies were the Seneca, living far away to the north beyond Hudson's River.MoreLess
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Guest 9 months ago
I really don't know what Lamour would have done if that convenient little stone that rolled under the hero's foot in every one of his tiresome books had not been there. He also loved "spraddled legs" whatever that means. Of course I can guess but I think he invented that word. His boxing skills themselves were very poor and his boxing record of 59-6 has long been disproven , having had no more than about 3-4 fight's of which he lost a couple
Guest 9 months ago
There was ammunition to reload the pistols "at lesst twice" BEFORE they ever found the salpeter and not more than 2-3 shots had been fired since. Yet he collected at least the amountof gunpowder from dead Spaniards to jill 3-4 powder horns.Write Review:
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