ADVENTURE books online

Reading books adventure Nowadays a big variety of genres are exist. In our electronic library you can choose any book that suits your mood, request and purpose. This website is full of free ebooks. Reading online is very popular and become mainstream. This website can provoke you to be smarter than anyone. You can read between work breaks, in public transport, in cafes over a cup of coffee and cheesecake.
No matter where, but it’s important to read books in our elibrary , without registration.



Today let's analyze the genre adventure. Genre adventure is a reference book for adults and children. But it serve for adults and children in different purposes. If a boy or girl presents himself as a brave and courageous hero, doing noble deeds, then an adult with pleasure can be a little distracted from their daily worries.


A great interest to the reader is the adventure of a historical nature. For example, question: «Who discovered America?»
Today there are quite interesting descriptions of the adventures of Portuguese sailors, who visited this continent 20 years before Columbus.




It should be noted the different quality of literary works created in the genre of adventure. There is an understandable interest of generations of people in the classic adventure. At the same time, new works, which are created by contemporary authors, make classic works in the adventure genre quite worthy competition.
The close attention of readers to the genre of adventure is explained by the very essence of man, which involves constant movement, striving for something new, struggle and achievement of success. Adventure genre is very excited
Heroes of adventure books are always strong and brave. And we, off course, want to be like them. Unfortunately, book life is very different from real life.But that doesn't stop us from loving books even more.

Read books online » Adventure » The Ivory Child by H. Rider Haggard (ready to read books txt) 📖

Book online «The Ivory Child by H. Rider Haggard (ready to read books txt) 📖». Author H. Rider Haggard



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 ... 52
Go to page:
by now, uttered a cheer, and the red-waistcoated old Jenkins, who had stopped by us, remarked: “Well, bust me if that bain’t a master one!”

Scroope made me angry by slapping me so hard upon the back that it hurt, and nearly caused me to let off the other barrel of the gun. Charles seemed to become one great grin, and Lord Ragnall, with a brief congratulatory “Never enjoyed a shoot so much in my life,” called to the men who were posted behind us to pick up all the dead pheasants, being careful to keep mine apart from those of Sir Junius Fortescue.

“You should have a hundred and forty-three at this stand,” he said, “allowing for every possible runner. Charles and I make the same total.”

I remarked that I did not think there were many runners, as the No. 3 shot had served me very well, and getting into the boat was rowed to the other side, where I received more congratulations. Then, as all further shooting was out of the question because of the weather, we walked back to the castle to tea.

As I emptied my cup Lord Ragnall, who had left the room, returned and asked us to come and see the game. So we went, to find it laid out in endless lines upon the snow-powdered grass in the quadrangle of the castle, arranged in one main and two separate lots.

“Those are yours and Sir Junius’s,” said Scroope. “I wonder which of you has won. I’ll put a sovereign on you, old fellow.”

“Then you’re a donkey for your pains,” I answered, feeling vexed, for at that moment I had forgotten all about the bet.

I do not remember how many pheasants were killed altogether, but the total was much smaller than had been hoped for, because of the gale.

“Jenkins,” said Lord Ragnall presently to Red Waistcoat, “how many have you to the credit of Sir Junius Fortescue?”

“Two hundred and seventy-seven, my lord, twelve hares, two woodcocks, and three pigeons.”

“And how many to that of Mr. Quatermain?” adding: “I must remind you both, gentlemen, that the birds have been picked as carefully as possible and kept unmixed, and therefore that the figures given by Jenkins must be considered as final.”

“Quite so,” I answered, but Van Koop said nothing. Then, while we all waited anxiously, came the amazing answer:

“Two hundred and seventy-seven pheasants, my lord, same number as those of Sir Junius, Bart., fifteen hares, three pigeons, four partridges, one duck, and a beak—I mean a woodcock.”

“Then it seems you have won your £5, Mr. Quatermain, upon which I congratulate you,” said Lord Ragnall.

“Stop a minute,” broke in Van Koop. “The bet was as to pheasants; the other things don’t count.”

“I think the term used was ‘birds,’” I remarked. “But to be frank, when I made it I was thinking of pheasants, as no doubt Sir Junius was also. Therefore, if the counting is correct, there is a dead heat and the wager falls through.”

“I am sure we all appreciate the view you take of the matter,” said Lord Ragnall, “for it might be argued another way. In these circumstances Sir Junius keeps his £5 in his pocket. It is unlucky for you, Quatermain,” he added, dropping the “mister,” “that the last high pheasant you shot can’t be found. It fell into the lake, you remember, and, I suppose, swam ashore and ran.”

“Yes,” I replied, “especially as I could have sworn that it was quite dead.”

“So could I, Quatermain; but the fact remains that it isn’t there.”

“If we had all the pheasants that we think fall dead our bags would be much bigger than they are,” remarked Van Koop, with a look of great relief upon his face, adding in his horrid, patronizing way: “Still, you shot uncommonly well, Quatermain. I’d no idea you would run me so close.”

I felt inclined to answer, but didn’t. Only Lord Ragnall said:

“Mr. Quatermain shot more than well. His performance in the Lake covert was the most brilliant that I have ever seen. When you went in there together, Sir Junius, you were thirty ahead of him, and you fired seventeen more cartridges at the stand.”

Then, just as we turned to go, something happened. The round-eyed Charles ran puffing into the quadrangle, followed by another man with a dog, who had been specially set to pick my birds, and carrying in his hand a much-bedraggled cock pheasant without a tail.

“I’ve got him, my lord,” he gasped, for he had run very fast; “the little gent’s—I mean that which he killed in the clouds with the last shot he fired. It had gone right down into the mud and stuck there. Tom and me fished him up with a pole.”

Lord Ragnall took the bird and looked at it. It was almost cold, but evidently freshly killed, for the limbs were quite flexible.

“That turns the scale in favour of Mr. Quatermain,” he said, “so, Sir Junius, you had better pay your money and congratulate him, as I do.”

“I protest,” exclaimed Van Koop, looking very angry and meaner than usual. “How am I to know that this was Mr. Quatermain’s pheasant? The sum involved is more than £5 and I feel it is my duty to protest.”

“Because my men say so, Sir Junius; moreover, seeing the height from which the bird fell, their story is obviously true.”

Then he examined the pheasant further, pointing out that it appeared to have only one wound—a shot through the throat almost exactly at the root of the beak, of which shot there was no mark of exit. “What sized shot were you using, Sir Junius?” he asked.

“No. 4 at the last stand.”

“And you were using No. 3, Mr. Quatermain. Now, was any other gun using No. 3?”

All shook their heads.

“Jenkins, open that bird’s head. I think the shot that killed it will be found in the brain.”

Jenkins obeyed, using a penknife cleverly enough. Pressed against the bone of the skull he found the shot.

“No. 3 it is, sure enough, my lord,” he said.

“You will agree that settles the matter, Sir Junius,” said Lord Ragnall. “And now, as a bet has been made here it had better be paid.”

“I have not enough money on me,” said Van Koop sulkily.

“I think your banker is mine,” said Lord Ragnall quietly, “so you can write a cheque in the house. Come in, all of you, it is cold in this wind.”

So we went into the smoking-room, and Lord Ragnall, who, I could see, was annoyed, instantly fetched a blank cheque from his study and handed it to Van Koop in rather a pointed manner.

He took it, and turning to me, said:

“I remember the capital sum, but how much is the interest? Sorry to trouble you, but I am not very good at figures.”

“Then you must have changed a good deal during the last twelve years, Sir Junius,” I could not help saying. “Still, never mind the interest, I shall be quite satisfied with the principal.”

So he filled up the cheque for £250 and threw it down on the table before me, saying something about its being a bother to mix up business with pleasure.

I took the draft, saw that it was correct though rather illegible, and proceeded to dry it by waving it in the air. As I did so it came into my mind that I would not touch the money of this successful scamp, won back from him in such a way.

Yielding to a perhaps foolish impulse, I said:

“Lord Ragnall, this cheque is for a debt which years ago I wrote off as lost. At luncheon to-day you were talking of a Cottage Hospital for which you are trying to get up an endowment fund in this neighbourhood, and in answer to a question from you Sir Junius Fortescue said that he had not as yet made any subscription to its fund. Will you allow me to hand you Sir Junius’s subscription—to be entered in his name, if you please?” And I passed him the cheque, which was drawn to myself or bearer.

He looked at the amount, and seeing that it was not £5, but £250, flushed, then asked:

“What do you say to this act of generosity on the part of Mr. Quatermain, Sir Junius?”

There was no answer, because Sir Junius had gone. I never saw him again, for years ago the poor man died quite disgraced. His passion for semi-fraudulent speculations reasserted itself, and he became a bankrupt in conditions which caused him to leave the country for America, where he was killed in a railway accident while travelling as an immigrant. I have heard, however, that he was not asked to shoot at Ragnall any more.

The cheque was passed to the credit of the Cottage Hospital, but not, as I had requested, as a subscription from Sir Junius Fortescue. A couple of years later, indeed, I learned that this sum of money was used to build a little room in that institution to accommodate sick children, which room was named the Allan Quatermain ward.

Now, I have told this story of that December shoot because it was the beginning of my long and close friendship with Ragnall.

When he found that Van Koop had gone away without saying good-bye, Lord Ragnall made no remark. Only he took my hand and shook it.

I have only to add that, although, except for the element of competition which entered into it, I enjoyed this day’s shooting very much indeed, when I came to count up its cost I felt glad that I had not been asked to any more such entertainments. Here it is, taken from an old note-book:

Cartridges, including those not used and given to Charles £4 0 0 Game Licence 3 0 0 Tip to Red Waistcoat (keeper) 2 0 0 Tip to Charles 0 10 0 Tip to man who helped Charles to find pheasant 0 5 0 Tip to man who collected pheasants behind me 0 10 0 ———— £10 5 0 ————

Truly pheasant shooting in England is, or was, a sport for the rich!

CHAPTER III.
MISS HOLMES

Two and a half hours passed by, most of which time I spent lying down to rest and get rid of a headache caused by the continual, rapid firing and the roar of the gale, or both; also in rubbing my shoulder with ointment, for it was sore from the recoil of the guns.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 ... 52
Go to page:

Free ebook «The Ivory Child by H. Rider Haggard (ready to read books txt) 📖» - read online now

Comments (0)

There are no comments yet. You can be the first!
Add a comment