Complete Works of Robert Louis Stevenson (Illustrated) (884 page)
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Authors: ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
MIDNIGHT!
The Indian is about to light a fuse to a cask
v:shapes=“x0000i1291”>of gunpowder! But James sees him and shoots him before he is able to light the fuse.
He ran to the side of the dying Indian who made this confession. “I am not an Indian. 10 years 292 ago I met G. Gidean, a man who found a quantity of gold here. Before be died, he sent that clue to a friend
who never received it
. I knew the gold was here. I have hunted 10 years for it, your clue showed me where IT was,”
(here Black Eagle told it to James.) Then Black Eagle DIED
.
Chapter VII.
20 years have passed! James is
v:shapes=“x0000i1292”> the same as ever. Jack
is owner of a yacht.
v:shapes=“x0000i1294”>The Frontiersman owns a large cattle and hog ranch.
Finis.
NOT I,
And Other POEMS,
BY
Robert Louis Stevenson,
Author of
The Blue Scalper, Travels
with a Donkey etc.
PRICE 6d.Dedicated to
Messrs. R. & R. CLARKE
by
S.L.Osbourne
Davos
1881
v:shapes=“x0000i1295”>
Not I.
Some like drink In a pint pot, Some like to think; Some not. Strong Dutch Cheese, Old Kentucky Rye, Some like these; Not I. |
Some like Poe
And others like Scott,
Some like Mrs. Stowe;
Some not.
Some like to laugh,
Some like to cry.
Some like chaff;
Not I.
297
Here, perfect to a wish,
We offer, not a dish,
But just the platter:
A book that’s not a book,
A pamphlet in the look
But not the matter.
I own in disarray;
As to the flowers of May
The frosts of Winter,
To my poetic rage,
The smallness of the page
And of the printer.As seamen on the seas
With song and dance descry
Adown the morning breeze
An islet in the sky:
In Araby the dry,
As o’er the sandy plain
The panting camels cry
To smell the coming rain.
So all things over earth
A common law obey
And rarity and worth
Pass, arm in arm, away;And even so, today,
The printer and the bard,
In pressless Davos, pray
Their sixpenny reward.
The pamphlet here presented
Was planned and printed by
A printer unindent-ed,
A bard whom all decry.The author and the printer,
With various kinds of skill,
Concocted it in Winter
At Davos on the Hill.
They burned the nightly taper
But now the work is ripe
Observe the costly paper,
Remark the perfect type!