Nick of the Woods: Or, The Jibbenainosay; a Tale of Kentucky

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Redfield, 1853 - 379 страници
 

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Страница 13 - They, looking back, all the eastern side beheld Of Paradise, so late their happy seat, Waved over by that flaming brand; the gate With dreadful faces thronged and fiery arms. Some natural tears they dropped, but wiped them soon; The world was all before them, where to choose Their place of rest, and Providence their guide. They, hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow, Through Eden took their solitary way.
Страница 335 - Her appearance awakened his dormant spirits, and recalled the memory of his kinswoman, of whom he besought her to speak, though well aware she could speak neither hope nor comfort. But scarce had Telie, more abashed and more sorrowful at the question, opened her lips to reply, when one of the old Indians interposed with a frown of displeasure, and taking her by the arm, led her angrily to the door, where he waved her away, with gestures that seemed to threaten a worse reception should she presume...
Страница 49 - Whar's your buffalobull," he cried, " to cross horns with the roarer of Salt River? Whar's your fullblood colt that can shake a saddle off? h'yar's an old nag can kick off the top of a buck-eye! Whar's your cat of the Knobs ? your wolf of the Rolling Prairies ? h'yar's the old brown b'ar can claw the bark off a gum-tree ! H'yar's a man for you, Tom Bruce ! Same to you, Sim Roberts ! to you...
Страница 43 - Injuns that ar' onlucky enough to come in his way, besides scalping them and marking them with his mark. The Injuns call him Jibbenainosay, or a word of that natur', which them that know more about the Injun gabble than I do say means the Spirit-that-walks ; and if we can believe any such lying devils as Injuns (which I am loath to do, for the truth ar'nt in 'em), he is neither man nor beast, but a great ghost or devil that knife cannot harm nor bullet touch : and they have always had an idea that...
Страница 58 - Virginia — I am ready for thee." " Cock-a-doodle-doo ! " cried Ralph Stackpole, springing towards his man, and clapping his hands, one on Nathan's left shoulder, the other on his right hip : " Are you ready ? " " I am,
Страница 49 - He flapped his wings and crowed until every chanticleer in the settlement replied to the note of battle ; he snorted and neighed like a horse ; he bellowed like a bull ; he barked like a dog; he yelled like an Indian; he whined like a panther; he howled like a wolf; until one would have thought he was a living menagerie, comprising within his single body the spirit of every animal noted for its We of conflict.
Страница 356 - I am Wenonga, a great Shawnee chief. I have fought the Longknives, and drunk their blood; when they hear my voice they are afraid, — they run howling away like dogs when the squaws beat them from the fire — who ever stood before Wenonga? I have fought my enemies, and killed them. I never feared a white man ; why should I fear a white man's devil ? Where is the Jibbenainosay, the curse of my tribe?
Страница 211 - Such is the red-man of America, whom courage, — an attribute of all lovers of blood, whether man or animal ; misfortune, — the destiny, in every quarter of the globe, of every barbarous race, which contact with a civilized one cannot civilize; and the dreams of poets and sentimentalists have invested with a character wholly incompatible with his condition.
Страница 53 - Roland came to survey him a little more closely, he could not avoid suspecting that the sobriquet, instead of being given to indicate warlike and dangerous traits of character, had been bestowed out of pure wantonness and derision. His visage, seeming to belong to a man of at least forty-five or fifty years of age, was hollow, and almost as weather-worn as his apparel, with a long hooked nose, prominent chin, a wide mouth exceedingly straight and pinched, with a melancholy or contemplative twist...
Страница 49 - ... and neighed like a horse; he bellowed like a bull; he barked like a dog; he yelled like an Indian; he whined like a panther; he howled like a wolf; until one would have thought he was a living menagerie, comprising within his single body the spirit of every animal noted for its love of conflict. Then, not content with such a display of readiness to fight the field, he darted from the centre of the area allowed him for his exercise, and invited the lookers-on individually to battle. "Whar's your...

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