Other editions of book In a Hollow of the Hills

It was very dark, and the wind was increasing. The last gust had been preceded by an ominous roaring down the whole mountain-side, which continued for some time after the trees in the little valley had lapsed into silence. The air was filled with a faint, cool, sodden odor, as of stirred forest depths. In those intervals of silence the darkness seemed to increase in proportion and grow almost palpable. Yet out of this sightless and soundless void now came the tinkle of a spur's rowels, the dry crackling of saddle leathers, and the muffled plunge of a hoof in the thick carpet of dust and desiccated leaves. Then a voice, which in spite of its matter-of-fact reality the obscurity lent a certain mystery to, said:—

Francis Bret Harte (August 25, 1836 – May 5, 1902) was an American short story writer and poet, best remembered for his short fiction featuring miners, gamblers, and other romantic figures of the California Gold Rush. In a career spanning more than four decades, he wrote poetry, plays, lectures, book reviews, editorials, and magazine sketches in addition to fiction. As he moved from California to the eastern U.S. to Europe, he incorporated new subjects and characters into his stories, but his Gold Rush tales have been most often reprinted, adapted, and admired.

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Francis Bret Harte (August 25, 1836 – May 5, 1902) was an American short story writer and poet, best remembered for his short fiction featuring miners, gamblers, and other romantic figures of the California Gold Rush. In a career spanning more than four decades, he wrote poetry, fiction, plays, lectures, book reviews, editorials, and magazine sketches in addition to fiction. As he moved from California to the eastern U.S. to Europe, he incorporated new subjects and characters into his stories, but his Gold Rush tales have been most often reprinted, adapted, and admired.

America has always had a fascination with the Wild West, and schoolchildren grow up learning about famous Westerners like Wyatt Earp, Buffalo Bill, Wild Bill Hicock, as well as the infamous shootout at O.K. Corral. Pioneering and cowboys and Indians have been just as popular in Hollywood, with Westerners helping turn John Wayne and Clint Eastwood into legends on the silver screen. HBO’s Deadwood, about the historical 19th century mining town on the frontier was popular last decade.Not surprisingly, a lot has been written about the West, and one of the best known writers about the West in the 19th century was Francis Bret Harte (1836-1902), who wrote poetry and short stories during his literary career. Harte was on the West Coast by the 1860s, placing himself in perfect position to document and depict frontier life.

The men had seen their share ups and downs -- having been starved, snowed upon, half drowned, and shot at by road-agents and horse-thieves. Now the money had run out, and in the morning they would shake hands all round and call everything square, and go on their separate ways.But some of them had seen a strange light down in the hollow, that night -- and it turned out to be not heat lightning, nor swamp fire . . . but real fire: a forest fire --And there was a house down there, in the hollow, where they had seen a woman peering out a little window . . .

The men had seen their share ups and downs -- having been starved, snowed upon, half drowned, and shot at by road-agents and horse-thieves. Now the money had run out, and in the morning they would shake hands all round and call everything square, and go on their separate ways.But some of them had seen a strange light down in the hollow, that night -- and it turned out to be not heat lightning, nor swamp fire . . . but real fire: a forest fire --And there was a house down there, in the hollow, where they had seen a woman peering out a little window . . .

This scarce antiquarian book is a facsimile reprint of the original. Due to its age, it may contain imperfections such as marks, notations, marginalia and flawed pages. Because we believe this work is culturally important, we have made it available as part of our commitment for protecting, preserving, and promoting the world's literature in affordable, high quality, modern editions that are true to the original work.

It was very dark, and the wind was increasing. The last gust had been preceded by an ominous roaring down the whole mountain-side, which continued for some time after the trees in the little valley had lapsed into silence. The air was filled with a faint, cool, sodden odor, as of stirred forest depths. In those intervals of silence the darkness seemed to increase in proportion and grow almost palpable. Yet out of this sightless and soundless void now came the tinkle of a spur's rowels, the dry crackling of saddle leathers, and the muffled plunge of a hoof in the thick carpet of dust and desiccated leaves. Then a voice, which in spite of its matter-of-fact reality the obscurity lent a certain mystery to, said:- "I can't make out anything! Where the devil have we got to, anyway? It's as black as Tophet, here ahead!" "Strike a light and make a flare with something," returned a second voice. "Look where you're shoving to-now-keep your horse off, will ye."