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    Who Crosses Storm Mountain? 1911
    Who Crosses Storm Mountain? 1911
    Who Crosses Storm Mountain? 1911
    Ebook41 pages27 minutes

    Who Crosses Storm Mountain? 1911

    By Mary Noailles Murfree

    ()

    Read preview
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 26, 2013
    Who Crosses Storm Mountain? 1911

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      Book preview

      Who Crosses Storm Mountain? 1911 - Mary Noailles Murfree

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of Who Crosses Storm Mountain?, by

      Charles Egbert Craddock     (AKA Mary Noailles Murfree)

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

      Title: Who Crosses Storm Mountain?

             1911

      Author: Charles Egbert Craddock     (AKA Mary Noailles Murfree)

      Release Date: November 19, 2007 [EBook #23551]

      Last Updated: January 5, 2013

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHO CROSSES STORM MOUNTAIN? ***

      Produced by David Widger

      WHO CROSSES STORM MOUNTAIN?

      By Charles Egbert Craddock

      1911

      The wind stirred in the weighted pines; the snow lay on the ground. Here and there on its smooth, white expanse footprints betokened the woodland gentry abroad. In the pallid glister of the moon, even amid the sparse, bluish shadows of the leafless trees, one might discriminate the impression of the pronged claw of the wild turkey, the short, swift paces of the mink, the padded, doglike paw of the wolf. A progress of a yet more ravening suggestion was intimated in great hoof-marks leading to the door of a little log cabin all a-crouch in the grim grip of winter and loneliness and poverty on the slope of the mountain, among heavy, outcropping ledges of rock and beetling, overhanging crags. With icy ranges all around as far as the eye could reach, with the vast, instarred, dark sky above, it might seem as if sorrow, the world, the law could hardly take account of so slight a thing, so remote. But smoke was slowly stealing up from its stick-and-clay chimney, and its clapboarded roof sheltered a group with scarcely the heart to mend the fire.

      Two women shivered on the broad hearth before the dispirited embers. One had wept so profusely that she had much ado to find a dry spot in her blue-checked apron, thrown over her head, wherewith to mop her tears. The other, much younger, her fair face reddened, her blue eyes swollen, her auburn curling hair all tangled on her shoulders, her voice half-choked with sobs, addressed herself to the narration of their woes, her cold, listless hands clasped about her knees as she sat on an inverted bushel-basket, for

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