The Golden Boys at the Haunted Camp
Category： Author：novel
The last note of “taps” rang lingeringly through the corridors of The Fortress and died away just as a knock sounded on the door of the room occupied by Bob and Jack Golden.
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Category： Author：novel
The last note of “taps” rang lingeringly through the corridors of The Fortress and died away just as a knock sounded on the door of the room occupied by Bob and Jack Golden.
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Category： Author：novel
If you are ever in Brooklyn, that borough of superb sunsets and magnificent vistas of husband-propelled baby-carriages, it is to be hoped you may chance upon a quiet by-street where there is a very remarkable bookshop.
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Category： Author：novel
“Harvest is ended and summer is gone,” quoted Anne Shirley, gazing across the shorn fields dreamily. She and Diana Barry had been picking apples in the Green Gables orchard, but were now resting from their labors in a sunny corner, where airy fleets of thistledown drifted by on the wings of a wind that was still summe...
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Category： Author：novel
You are having the same recurring dream, the dream that has haunted the whole world since that day in 1945. The dream of the sudden flash in the night, the rising mushroom cloud and then annihilation. You are living the nightmare again but this time it's true, you know it's true. You can't be dreaming. The bombs are actually fall...
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Category： Author：novel
Our camp was in the heart of Copiah County, Mississippi, a mile or so west of Gallatin and about six miles east of that once robber-haunted road, the Natchez Trace. Austin\'s brigade, we were, a detached body of mixed Louisiana and Mississippi cavalry, getting our breath again after two weeks\' hard fighting of Grant. Grierson\'s raid ...
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Category： Author：novel
Malcolm Stratton, F.Z.S., naturalist, a handsome, dark-complexioned man of eight-and-twenty, started and flushed like a girl as he hurriedly thrust the photograph he had been apostrophising into his breast pocket, and ran to the deep, dingy window of his chambers to look at the clock over the old hall of Bencher’s Inn, E.C. It was an u...
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Category： Author：novel
Neither sixteen-year-old Larry Turner nor Dick Summers, a year his junior, had any more fear than had Sandy Maclaren, hardly thirteen and seated just back of the pilot who, in flying the four-place, low-wing airplane, had called back reassuringly.
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Category： Author：novel
In or about the middle of the seventeenth century the island of San Domingo, or Hispaniola as it was then called, was haunted and overrun by a singular community of savage, surly, fierce, and filthy men. They were chiefly composed of French colonists, whose ranks had from time to time been enlarged by liberal contributions from the slu...
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Category： Author：novel
It is very seldom that mere ordinary people like John and myself secure ancestral halls for the summer. A colonial mansion, a hereditary estate, I would say a haunted house, and reach the height of romantic felicity—but that would be asking too much of fate!
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Category： Author：novel
It is a passage which might well be haunted with memories of the famous courtesans, dignitaries, criminals “de luxe” and aristocrats of the world,—the long straight stretch of passage leading from the Hotel de Paris to the International Sporting Club of Monte Carlo. Nevertheless it seemed to Grant Slattery a strange place for this meet...
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