The Forbidden Trail. Honoré Morrow

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       Honoré Morrow

      The Forbidden Trail

      Published by Good Press, 2019

       [email protected]

      EAN 4057664627223

Table of Contents

       THE FORBIDDEN TRAIL

       CHAPTER I

       THE DREAMER

       CHAPTER II

       HOPES DEFERRED

       CHAPTER III

       THE NEW DAY

       CHAPTER IV

       CHARLEY

       CHAPTER V

       VON MINDEN

       CHAPTER VI

       THE LETTER FROM WASHINGTON

       CHAPTER VII

       THE RUNAWAY

       CHAPTER VIII

       THE LONELY HUNTER

       CHAPTER IX

       GUSTAV

       CHAPTER X

       DEATH IN THE DESERT

       CHAPTER XI

       DICK'S SICKNESS

       CHAPTER XII

       DICKY'S LAST BOUT

       CHAPTER XIII

       THE GREAT DIVIDE

       CHAPTER XIV

       WASHINGTON

       CHAPTER XV

       RABBIT TAIL'S GANG

       CHAPTER XVI

       THE RIVER RANGE

       CHAPTER XVII

       THE BLACK BOX

       CHAPTER XVIII

       PAPA WOLF

THE FORBIDDEN TRAIL

       Table of Contents

CHAPTER I

       Table of Contents

THE DREAMER

       Table of Contents

      Roger was only seven. He was tall for his age and very thin. He had a thick crop of black hair and his eyes were large and precisely the color of the summer sky that lifted above the Moores' back yard. These were the little boy's only claims to beauty, for even at this time Roger's face was too much of the intellectual type to be handsome. Beauty is seldom intelligent. Roger's long, thin jaw, his thin, thoughtful mouth, his high forehead, were distinctly of the thinking, dreaming type.

      It was midsummer and Roger's tanned legs and feet were bare and scratched and mosquito bitten. He wore a little blue gingham sailor suit, which was much rumpled and soiled.

      Charlotte was five. She was tall for her age too. In fact at five she was nearly as tall as Roger. But she was not as thin as he. She had large brown eyes of astounding depth and softness and bronze brown hair that was short and curly. There were lovely curves in her scarlet, drooping lips and a fine arch to her head above the ears. There was a dimple in her round chin. She sat in front of Roger who was astride one end of a great plank that was up-ended on a barrel.

      "You go over and get Ernie and Elschen, Charley," commanded Roger in a deep, boyish voice.

      "I won't!" returned Charley, succinctly, crowding closer to Roger, as she spoke.

      "Well now, do you think I'm going to play alone all the afternoon with a baby?" roared Roger. "You're too little to work this teeter-tauter with me. I'm not going to stand it, I'm not. You get off!"

      "I won't," repeated Charley, none the less firmly that the red lips trembled. "I runned away from our house to play with you and I'm going to play, I am."

      "You ain't going to play alone and Mamma says I gotta take you home in half an hour if nobody doesn't come for you."

      "I won't go home." Charley ended this