H. De Vere Stacpoole

H. De Vere Stacpoole

Summary

Portrait of H. De Vere Stacpoole H. De Vere Stacpoole The Valley of the Sword (1914)

It is the only road in Iceland—all other ways are bridle-tracks. Cairns border it, to give the traveller direction in the snows of winter, and the great Icelandic ravens perch on the cairns like evil spirits on the heads of men who have been turned to stone by enchantment. There is no sound but that of the wind and the cry of the whimbrel, that most musical and desolate of all bird cries.
Towards evening, Twisden, who was riding beside me, and who had been silent for some time, broke out.
"I've been wondering," said he, "if Kellerman by any means has got the cinch on us."
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of H. De Vere Stacpoole H. De Vere Stacpoole The Valley of the Sword (1914)

The omens were with us.
"I believe in luck and signs," said Twisden, "but if all the signs were set dead against us, it would not matter. Iceland can't run away or sink into the sea, and nothing else could stop us. Say, what shall we call the mine—something with both our names in it?"
"Let's wait till everything is finished," I replied. "There is no use in naming a child before it is born."
Source: Wikisource

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