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Reading books fiction Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself.



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Read books online » Fiction » The Bravest of the Brave — or, with Peterborough in Spain by G. A. Henty (beach read book txt) 📖

Book online «The Bravest of the Brave — or, with Peterborough in Spain by G. A. Henty (beach read book txt) 📖». Author G. A. Henty



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They rode on without interruption at full gallop till they neared the lower end of the valley. Then Jack drew up his horse. Across the road and the ground on each side extended a dozen carts, the oxen being taken out, and the carts placed end to end so as to form a barricade. A number of men were standing behind them.

“I expected something of this sort,” muttered Jack. He looked at the hills on either side, but they were too steep to ride up on horseback; and as to abandoning the animals and taking to the hills on foot, it was not to be thought of, for the active peasants would easily overtake them.

“We must ride straight forward,” he said; “there is no other way out of it. There is level ground enough for a horse to pass round the left of the wagons. Ride for that point as hard as you can, and when you are through keep straight forward for a quarter of a mile till we are together again. Now!”

Giving his horse the spur, Jack dashed off at full speed, followed closely by the troopers. As they approached the line guns flashed out from the wagons, and the bullets sang thickly round them; but they were going too fast to be an easy mark, and the peasants, after firing their guns, seeing the point for which they were making, ran in a body to oppose them, armed with pitch forks and ox goads; few of them had, however, reached the spot when Jack and his troopers dashed up. There was a short sharp struggle, and then, leaving five or six of the peasants dead on the ground, the troopers burst through and rode forward. One man only had been lost in the passage, shot through the head as he approached the gap.

“So far we are safe,” Jack said, “and as I expect every man in the country round was engaged in that ambush, we need not hurry for the present. The question is, Which way to go?”

This was indeed a difficult point to settle, for Jack was wholly ignorant of the country. He had made inquiries as to the way to Estrella, but knew nothing of any other roads leading from that village, and indeed, for aught he knew, the road by which he had come might be the only one leading to the south through the range of hills.

“We will turn west,” he said, after a moment's thought, “and keep along near the foot of the hills till we come to another road crossing them.”

So saying, he set forward at an easy trot across the fields of maize and wheat stubble, vineyards, and occasionally orchards. For upward of two hours Jack led the way, but they saw no signs of a road, and he observed with uneasiness that the plain was narrowing fast and the hills on the left trending to meet those on the right and form an apparently unbroken line ahead.

The horses were showing signs of fatigue, and Jack drew rein on somewhat rising ground and looked anxiously round. If, as it seemed, there was no break in the bills ahead, it would be necessary to retrace their steps, and long ere this the defenders of the ravine would have returned to their homes, and learned from the men at the carts that a small party had escaped. As the women in the fields would be able to point out the way they had taken, the whole population would be out in pursuit of them. Looking round Jack saw among some trees to his right what appeared to be a large mansion, and resolved at once to go there.

“The horses must have food and a rest,” he said, “before we set out again; and though it's hardly probable, as the peasants are so hostile, that the owner of this place is friendly, I would even at the worst rather fall into the hands of a gentleman than into those of these peasants, who would certainly murder us in cold blood.”

Thus saying, he rode toward the mansion, whose owner must, he thought as he approached it, be a man of importance, for it was one of the finest country residences he had seen in Spain. He rode up to the front door and dismounted and rang at the bell. A man opened the door, and looked with surprise and alarm at the English uniforms. He would have shut the door again, but Jack put his shoulder to it and pushed it open.

“What means this insolence?” he said sternly, drawing his pistol. “Is your master in?”

“No, senor,” the man stammered, “the count is from home.”

“Is your mistress in?”

The man hesitated.

“I will see,” he said.

“Look here, sir,” Jack said. “Your mistress is in, and unless you lead me straight to her I will put a bullet through your head.”

Several other men servants had now come up, but the four troopers had also entered. The Spaniards looked at each other irresolutely.

“Now, sirrah,” Jack said, raising his pistol, “are you going to obey me?”

The Spaniard, seeing Jack would execute his threat unless obeyed, turned sullenly and led the way to a door. He opened it and entered.

“Madam the countess,” he said, “an English officer insists on seeing you.”

Jack followed him in. A lady had just risen from her seat.

“I must apologize, madam,” he began, and then stopped in surprise, while at the same moment a cry of astonishment broke from the lady.

“Senor Stilwell!” she cried. “Oh! how glad I am to see you! but—but—” And she stopped.

“But how do I come here, countess, you would ask? I come here by accident, and had certainly no idea that I should find you, or that this mansion belonged to your husband. You told me when I saw you last, a fortnight before I left Barcelona, that you were going away to your seat in the country. You told me its name, too, and were good enough to say that you hoped when this war was over that I would come and visit you; but, in truth, as this is not a time for visiting, I had put the matter out of my mind.”

“And do you belong, then,” the countess asked, “to the party who we heard yesterday had arrived at Estrella? If so—” And she stopped again.

“If so, how have I escaped, you would ask? By good fortune and the speed of my horse.”

“What will the count say?” the countess exclaimed. “How will he ever forgive himself? Had he known that our preserver was with that party he would have cut off his right hand before he would have—”

“Led his tenants to attack us. He could not tell, countess, and now I hope that you will give your retainers orders to treat my men with hospitality. At present my four troopers and your men are glowering at each other in the hall like wolves and dogs ready to spring at each other's throats.”

The countess at once went out into the hall. The servants had now armed themselves, and, led by the majordomo, were standing in readiness to attack the dragoons on the termination of the colloquy between the officer and their mistress.

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