Strasser, Todd:Howl-a-ween
- Livro de bolso 2000, ISBN: 9780590138802
Edição encadernada
Corgi Childrens. Good. 120 x 180mm. Paperback. 1981. 226 pages. Spine ripped. Text tanned.<br>The Sacketts walked tall in the untamed forests and wild mountain paths, strong men wh… mais…
Corgi Childrens. Good. 120 x 180mm. Paperback. 1981. 226 pages. Spine ripped. Text tanned.<br>The Sacketts walked tall in the untamed forests and wild mountain paths, strong men who s ought peace in the savage wilderness. That peace was challenged w hen rival Indian trives threatened war, and ruthless white men, h oping to exploit the tensions, kidnapped a settler's beautiful da ughter. Only Kin Sackett and his brother Yance dared to make the treacherous journey along the Warrior's Path to rescue the girl f rom her captors. For when there is a crisis on the frontier you c ould count on a Sackett for swift action. Editorial Reviews Fro m Library Journal This is the third book in L'Amour's monumental Sackett series, set in 1620 in Colonial America. A wounded Indian brings news that Yance Sackett's sister-in-law and a young woman reputed to be a witch have been kidnapped by the bloodthirsty Pe quot Indians. When Yance and his brother Kin set out to search th e treacherous Warrior's Path, an old war trail that led from the vicinity of Chattanooga to Boston, they soon discover that ruthle ss white slavers are behind the kidnapping, using and exploiting the tensions between the settlers and the Indians. With the help of the Ashanti warrior, Yance and Kin rescue the women and then s et out for Jamaica to put an end to the slave ring, fighting slav ers as well as pirates along the way. This story, like all of L'A mour's work, is great fun, and John Curless's voice is wonderful as he distinguishes all of the frontier characters. An action-pac ked adventure; highly recommended for all libraries.DBarbara Perk ins, Irving P.L., TX Copyright 2000 Reed Business Information, I nc. --This text refers to the hardcover edition. From the Publis her The Sacketts walked tall in the untamed forests and wild moun tain paths, strong men who sought peace in the savage wilderness. That peace was challenged when rival Indian trives threatened wa r, and ruthless white men, hoping to exploit the tensions, kidnap ped a settler's beautiful daughter. Only Kin Sackett and his brot her Yance dared to make the treacherous journey along the Warrior 's Path to rescue the girl from her captors. For when there is a crisis on the frontier you could count on a Sackett for swift act ion. --This text refers to the hardcover edition. Review Bantam Books proudly publishes the newest Louis L'Amour hardcover: May There Be a Road Available now! --This text refers to the hardcov er edition. Excerpt. ? Reprinted by permission. All rights reser ved. Chapter One What I hoped for was a fat bear, and what I cam e up with was a skinny Indian. It was lonely on the mountain, an d I had been watching the sun crest the peaks with light. There w as some mist lying in the valleys, and all around me the rhododen drons were in bloom, covering the flanks of the Blue Ridge and th e mountains nearby. Seated among them, their petals falling acros s my shoulders and into my hair, I watched the path below. It wa s an old, old path, old before the coming of the Cherokees, old b efore the Shawnees hunted these hills, as old as the first men on these mountains. All through the afternoon there had been no so und but the twittering of birds, but I knew something was coming up the trail yonder, for I'd seen birds fly up from time to time, marking its progress along the path, which was visible only at i ntervals. What I wanted was a fat bear, for we were needful of g rease, and my ribs were showing. When a body lives off the countr y around, fat is the hardest thing to come by. Fresh meat was no problem, but it was lean, mighty lean. An Indian was the last th ing I was wishful of seeing. We had good friends among them, but when a body becomes friendly with one nation, he naturally become s an enemy of their enemies whether he is wishful for it or not. Moreover, a friendly Indian could eat us out of house and home, a nd we were shy of meat and corn flour. Next to a fat bear it was Yance I was most anxious to see, for he was coming across the hi lls with fur, which we would soon be packing for trade in the set tlements. This Indian was old, and he was hurt. When I put my gl ass on him, I could see that. It was pa's glass, one used by him during his seafaring days and a right handy contrivance. Sitting among the blooms of rhododendron, all pink, purple, and white, a nd scattered among them the pink of mountain laurel, I watched hi m come. Scrooched down in the brush the way I was, it was unlikel y he'd see me. The old man was reaching for the end of his rope. He was worn out and in need of help, but I'd had dealings with r edskins since I was knee-high to a short duck, and Indians could be mighty sly. That old Indian might be a decoy to get me to show myself so's I could be bow shot or lanced, and I was wishful for neither. He seemed to be in perishing bad shape. Coming to my f eet, I must needs take the shortest way, which meant right down t he steep cliff through the rhododendrons. It was all of three hun dred paces back to where our path turned off, and that old man wa s hurting. This here was our country, leaving out a few Indians who might argue the point, but I'd see no man die whom I had not personally shot. He was still a-coming when I slid into the trai l before him, but he was weaving a mighty weird path and was read y to drop in his tracks. I was close enough to catch him. He was n't only worn down from travel, he was gun shot. Getting an arm around him to keep him from falling, I took time to slip his knif e from its sheath for safety's sake. Then I walked him to where I could lead him through the brush to our cabin. We'd built, Yanc e and I, well back in a niche among the rocks with a cliff overha nging from above. We had a fine field of fire on three sides in c ase of attack, which happened whenever a passing war party took t he notion. This was the place we built after the Senecas killed p a and Tom Watkins in the mountains above Crab Orchard. When I pu t that Indian down on the bed, he just naturally passed out. Putt ing water on to boil, I unlaced the top of his hunting shirt and found he'd been shot through the top of the shoulder with a muske t ball. The ball was still there, pressed against the skin at the back of his shoulder. Taking my hunting knife, I slit the skin a nd oozed it out. The wound was several days old but wasn't in bad shape. Sakim often commented on the fact that wounds in high co untry did not fester as often as they did in crowded cities. Saki m had come to America with pa, but he had been a physician and su rgeon in central Asia, a descendant of a long line of scholars fr om the great age of medicine. Pa had met him after pa was kidnapp ed aboard Nick Bardle's ship where Sakim was also a sailor. He'd come aboard Bardle's pirate craft by shipwreck or capture, and wh en pa made his escape, Sakim was one of the two who chose to leav e with him. When we were youngsters at our small settlement on S hooting Creek, he had been our teacher. A noted scholar among his own people, his education far surpassed any available in Europe at the time. He taught us much of the sciences and of history but also of sickness and the treating of wounds, but for all his tea ching, I was wishing him with us now. The old man opened his eye s while I bathed his wound. You are Sack-ett? I am. I come Penn ey. The only Penney I knew was Yance's wife, whose name had been Temperance Penney when he took her to be wed. She was back on Sh ooting Creek, waiting our return. Miz Penney say me come Sack-et t. Much trouble. Carrie gone. Carrie? That would be Temp's baby sister, of whom I'd heard her speak. Gone? Gone where? Pequots take him. Bad Indian. All much afraid of Pequot. Right now I was beginning to regret this old Indian. Had it not been for him, I' d have been shagging it down the Cherokee Path to find ol' Yance, who was behind time in his coming. There was always the chance t hat he'd rounded up too many Indians. Of course it took a few to be too many for Yance, and I had mercy for anybody who cornered him. I'd done it a couple of times when we were youngsters and wa s lucky to get away with my hair. Yance was bull strong, bear tou gh, and he could fight like a cornered catamount. Yance was casu al about most things, but pa had pressed it upon us to be prompt. It was a rule amongst us to be where we were supposed to be and no nonsense about it. We knew it was often the difference between life and death. Miz Penney say you come. Much bad Indian. Take two girls. Taking up my musket, I moved to the door, standing wh ere I could watch the path to our clearing. If Yance came running and was hard pressed, I might take down at least one of them. I mind the time he came to the door with a big she-bear about two j umps behind him. It was a nip-and-tuck thing getting him in the d oor and keeping the bear out, and just having freshly mopped the floor, I was almost minded to shut the door and let them fight it out. All we want is the hide and the tallow, I advised him late r, not the whole bear. Did you ever tote a fresh-killed bear or even a bear hide and its tallow over three ridges in a boiling ho t sun? I figured to let him bring it right to the doorstep. What happened to your musket? He blushed. I was fixin' for a shot wh en he came for me. I'd no choice but to allow for distance betwix t us, so I taken out running. This time Yance would be a-horseba ck with pack horses, which would hold him to the trace and no cha nce to take to the woods. He was an almighty stubborn man and I k new he'd not leave his horses and furs for some Indian. You wife Penney? It took me a minute to realize he'd mistook me for Yanc e. What had he said before? Two girls gone? Taken by Indians? He 'd come a far piece if he'd come from Cape Ann or the nearby coun try, and those girls were long gone now. Still, I'd heard of a sw ap being made, goods for girls, or whatever. Anyway, she was kin by marriage to Yance. We'd never let them down. Whatever we could do would be done. It must have taken that Indian a week to get here. Even more, it was likely. I'd never been up north, for it w as Yance who'd gone girlin' up there to find himself a wife. Only I think he was just looking around when he saw her and took to h er first sight. Putting my musket close to hand, I put water on and began slicing meat into it for a stew. I added some wild onio ns and other herbs from the forest, for we did with whatever was to hand. There was no question of not going. My corn crop would suffer from lack of cultivation and from varmints, but crops were a chancy thing in this country. There'd have to be grub got read y and packs. Whilst the stew was shaping up, I set to gathering w hat we'd need. The old Warrior's Path would be the fastest route even though we might encounter war parties along the trail. Yet we must travel fast. Indians were notional about prisoners. They might want them for slaves, for torture, or for trade. They might want them simply to exhibit and then kill, but if they whined an d carried on or got weak so they could not travel, the Indians wo uld surely kill them out of hand. It had happened be- fore. Tem perance Penney had been living in a settlement nigh to Cape Ann w hen Yance found her. We Sacketts were a free-roving folk, and now and again we boys would take off across the country to see what might be seen. Often one of us went alone, or sometimes two or th ree would venture together. We had visited Jamestown a time or t wo, and Kane O'Hara from our settlement had gone down to the Span ish villages to the south. It was there he found his wife. We'd h eard tell of the Pilgrim folk to the north, but Yance was the fir st to traipse off thataway. Yance was curious as an Indian as to how other folks managed, and he lay up there in the woods watchi ng their village until he had seen Temperance. She was sixteen t hen, pert as a kitten and feisty, with the woman in her beginning to show. Already her good spirits had gotten her into trouble. H er neighbors were good folk but serious minded and with a set way about them and not much time for play or merrymaking. Yance had only to look one time to know what he'd come north for, and come night, he'd taken a quarter of venison down, hung it outside her door, and rapped sharply on the door; then he skedaddled and lai d low. Now few of those northern settlers were hunters. In the E ngland of their time all the game belonged to the king or ran on a few of the great estates, and unless they poached, they got non e of it. Nor had they weapons about except during time of war. Fr esh meat was hard to come by, and when they reached America where game abounded, they had no skill as hunters and were uneasy abou t taking game, for here, too, the game was said to belong to the king. A haunch of venison outside the door was a likely treat, so they took it in and were grateful. If Temperance herself had an y ideas, she wasn't talking about them, just going about her chur ning, weaving, and gathering as though she paid no mind to anythi ng. After they were married, she told me she'd seen Yance on the slope and in the woods a time or two from a distance, so she had her own ideas where that venison came from. A few nights later Y ance came down from the trees bearing another haunch and was made welcome. He was a bearer of news and from another colony as wel l, although, being one of us, I don't imagine he was too free abo ut saying just where he came from. Yance was a good talker, that being the Welsh in him, for the Welsh are like the Irish in havin g a feel for the language and a liking for the sound of their own voices. He done a sight of tale telling, but he never once looke d at Temperance, but she needed no telling to know whom he was ta lking to, and for. Now a pert and feisty girl like Temp, with a shape like hers, had taken the eye of every man in the settlement , not to mention occasional peddlers and tinkers who passed. Some of the local sprouts had ideas about her, and then here comes th is stranger in wide-brimmed hat and buckskins. They liked nothing about him. Moreover, Yance had been brought up like all of us, free thinking and free speaking. Pa had believed in us using our minds, and he believed in freedom and in expressing ideas, nor wa s Yance one to keep his mouth shut. He stayed on, a-courting Temp erance, and it wasn't long until he had crossed the ways of the f olk, and he found himself in the stocks. It was the way of the t ime to pitch rotten fruit or clods at whoever, Corgi Childrens, 1981, 2.5, London: Hippo Books. Good. 1996. First British Edition; First Printing. Paperback. Some cover creases, some foxing throughout. ; Good reading copy, no names inside. ; 144 pages; Kate's sick of her boring family and her boring house. Wouldn't it be great if something exciting happened at Hallowe'en? But be careful what you wish for as Kate finds a mutant pumpkin that glows in the dark, just perfect for a lantern. But once the lantern's lit, everything goes haywire. Kate's mum develops a strange habit, the housekeeper is baking with bats, and Dad is doing something really weird in the basement. Can the magic of the lantern be stopped? Or will every day be Hallowe'en? ., Hippo Books, 1996, 2.5<
