Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad
Tato developed surprising strength. The adventure of yesterday had so
thoroughly frightened her that when she found herself again seized she
struggled madly. The boy found that he could scarcely hold her, so he
enfolded her in both his arms and, letting her scream as she might,
picked up her tiny form and mounted the slope of the hill, leaping from
rock to rock until he came to a broad boulder twenty feet or more above
the path. Here he paused, panting, and awaited results.
The rock doors had opened promptly. Even while Kenneth struggled with
the brigand's daughter Patsy could see straight through the tunnel and
into the valley beyond. The child had dropped her bundle in the effort
to escape, and while Kenneth was leaping with her up the crags Patsy ran
forward and secured the money, returning quickly to her position facing
the tunnel.
And now they heard shouts and the sound of hastening feet as Il Duca ran
from the tunnel, followed closely by two of his brigands. They paused a
moment at the entrance, as if bewildered, but when the father saw his
child in the grasp of a stranger and heard her screams he answered with
a roar of fury and prepared to scramble up the rock to rescue her.
That was where Patsy showed her mettle. She hastily covered the brigand
with her revolver and shouted warningly:
"Stop, or you are a dead man!"
It was wonderfully dramatic and effective.
Il Duca shrank back, scowling, for he had no weapon at hand. Leaning
against the entrance to his valley he glared around to determine the
number of his foes and the probable chance of defeating them.
Kenneth laughed boyishly at his discomfiture. Kneeling down, the youth
grasped Tato by both wrists and lowered her body over the edge of the
rock so that her feet just touched a little ledge beneath. He continued
to hold fast to her wrists, though, and there she remained, stretched
against the face of the rock fronting the path, in full view of all, but
still unable to move.
From this exasperating sight Il Duca glanced at Patsy.
- Page:
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
- 19
- 20
- 21
- 22
- 23
- 24
- 25
- 26
- 27
- 28
- 29
- 30
- 31
- 32
- 33
- 34
- 35
- 36
- 37
- 38
- 39
- 40
- 41
- 42
- 43
- 44
- 45
- 46
- 47
- 48
- 49
- 50
- 51
- 52
- 53
- 54
- 55
- 56
- 57
- 58
- 59
- 60
- 61
- 62
- 63
- 64
- 65
- 66
- 67
- 68
- 69
- 70
- 71
- 72
- 73
- 74
- 75
- 76
- 77
- 78
- 79
- 80
- 81
- 82
- 83
- 84
- 85
- 86
- 87
- 88
- 89
- 90
- 91
- 92
- 93
- 94
- 95
- 96
- 97
- 98
- 99
- 100
- 101
- 102
- 103
- 104
- 105
- 106
- 107
- 108
- 109
- 110
- 111
- 112
- 113
- 114
- 115
- 116
- 117
- 118
- 119
- 120
- 121
- 122
- 123
- 124
- 125
- 126
- 127
- 128
- 129
- 130
- 131
- 132
- 133
- 134
- 135
- 136
- 137
- 138
- 139
- 140
- 141
- 142
- 143
- 144
- 145
- 146
- 147
- 148
- 149
- 150
- 151
- 152
- 153
- 154
- 155
- 156
- 157
In a village there lived two men who had the self-same name. Both were named Claus. But one of them owned four horses, and the other owned only one horse; so to distinguish between them people called the man who had four horses Big Claus, and the man who had only one horse Little Claus. Now I'll tell you what happened to these two, for this is a true story.
© 2013-2019 FairyTales
Almost all texts on this website are from the Public Domain.