Tappan's Burro
Zane Grey (January 31, 1872 - October 23, 1939) was an American author best known for his popular adventure novels and stories that presented an idealized image of the American frontier, including the novel Riders of the Purple Sage, his bes selling book. This is one of his stories.
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Tappan's Burro
Zane Grey (January 31, 1872 - October 23, 1939) was an American author best known for his popular adventure novels and stories that presented an idealized image of the American frontier, including the novel Riders of the Purple Sage, his bes selling book. This is one of his stories.
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Product Details
ISBN-13: | 9781609773793 |
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Publisher: | Start Publishing LLC |
Publication date: | 02/21/2014 |
Sold by: | SIMON & SCHUSTER |
Format: | eBook |
Pages: | 45 |
Sales rank: | 344,545 |
File size: | 225 KB |
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Zane Grey, original name Pearl Grey, (born Jan. 31, 1872, Zanesville, Ohio, U.S.--died Oct. 23, 1939, Altadena, Calif.), prolific writer whose romantic novels of the American West largely created a
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Statement by the author: I want to show the color and beauty of those painted cliffs and the long, brown-matted bluebell-dotted aisles in the grand forests; I want to give a suggestion of the tang of
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When Madeline Hammond stepped from the train at El Cajon, New Mexico, it was nearly midnight, and her first impression was of a huge dark space of cool, windy emptiness, strange and silent,
At sunset hour the forest was still, lonely, sweet with tang of fir and spruce, blazing in gold and red and green; and the man who glided on under the great trees seemed to blend with the colors and,
A September sun, losing some of its heat if not its brilliance, was dropping low in the west over the black Colorado range. Purple haze began to thicken in the timbered notches. Gray foothills, round
"BUT the man's almost dead."
The words stung John Hare's fainting spirit into life. He opened his eyes. The desert still stretched before him, the appalling thing that had overpowered him with its
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CHAPTER I
At sunset hour the forest was still, lonely, sweet with tang of fir and
spruce, blazing in gold and red and green; and the man who glided on
under the great trees seemed to blend with the
At sunset hour the forest was still, lonely, sweet with tang of fir and
spruce, blazing in gold and red and green; and the man who glided on
under the great trees seemed to blend with the