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- Herausgeber: Strelbytskyy Multimedia Publishing
- Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
- Sprache: Englisch
The stories are humorously written as if told by Breckinridge Elkins, a hillbilly with no schooling. He and his kin live in the Humboldts in Nevada. Elkins is six feet six inches tall, is as strong as a grizzly bear, and he can be just as bad tempered if riled. And there is a lot to rile him, especially his relatives. Though a dead shot, he prefers to use his fists, feet, teeth, etc. In numerous fights he attacks whole groups of armed men and commits mayhem. No one actually dies but limbs are broken, jaws shattered, faces are trod on, skulls fractured, ribs broken, and so on. Even buildings do not always survive such an attack. He picks up many injuries himself, but being shot, getting many cuts with Bowie knives, head bashed with numerous objects, having his ear chewed, scratched up by a mountain lion he then threw into a room full of feuding men and such are just minor nuisances to him. He previously rode an old mule called Alexander, the only animal that could carry him till he came across Cap'n Kidd, his equine equivalent, and tamed him. Elkins is the only man tough enough to ride the giant, pugnacious horse. Glory McGraw (a local girl) is his sometimes love interest but he is often too dumb to see it.
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Seitenzahl: 38
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022
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Robert E. Howard
A Gent From Bear Creek
The stories are humorously written as if told by Breckinridge Elkins, a hillbilly with no schooling. He and his kin live in the Humboldts in Nevada. Elkins is six feet six inches tall, is as strong as a grizzly bear, and he can be just as bad tempered if riled. And there is a lot to rile him, especially his relatives.
Though a dead shot, he prefers to use his fists, feet, teeth, etc. In numerous fights he attacks whole groups of armed men and commits mayhem. No one actually dies but limbs are broken, jaws shattered, faces are trod on, skulls fractured, ribs broken, and so on. Even buildings do not always survive such an attack. He picks up many injuries himself, but being shot, getting many cuts with Bowie knives, head bashed with numerous objects, having his ear chewed, scratched up by a mountain lion he then threw into a room full of feuding men and such are just minor nuisances to him.
He previously rode an old mule called Alexander, the only animal that could carry him till he came across Cap'n Kidd, his equine equivalent, and tamed him. Elkins is the only man tough enough to ride the giant, pugnacious horse. Glory McGraw (a local girl) is his sometimes love interest but he is often too dumb to see it.
The folks on Bear Creek ain't what you'd call peaceable by nature, but I was kind of surprised to come onto Erath Elkins and his brother-in-law Joel Gordon locked in mortal combat on the bank of the creek. But there they was, so tangled up they couldn't use their bowies to no advantage, and their cussing was scandalous to hear.
Remonstrances being useless, I kicked their knives out of their hands and throwed 'em bodily into the creek. That broke their holds and they come swarming out with blood-thirsty shrieks and dripping whiskers, and attacked me. Seeing they was too blind mad to have any sense, I bashed their heads together till they was too dizzy to do anything but holler.
"Is this any way for relatives to ack?" I asked disgustedly.
"Lemme at him!" howled Joel, gnashing his teeth whilst blood streamed down his whiskers. "He's broke three of my fangs and I'll have his life!"
"Stand aside, Breckinridge!" raved Erath. "No man can chaw a ear offa me and live to tell the tale!"
"Aw, shut up," I snorted. "One more yap outa either'n of you, and I'll see if yore fool heads are harder'n this." I brandished a fist under their noses and they quieted down. "What's all this about?" I demanded.
"I just discovered my brother-in-law is a thief," said Joel bitterly. At that Erath give a howl and a vi'lent plunge to get at his relative, but I kind of pushed him backwards, and he fell over a willer stump.
"The facts is, Breckinridge," said Joel, "me and this polecat found a buckskin poke full of gold nuggets in a holler oak over on Apache Ridge yesterday. We didn't know whether somebody in these parts had just hid it there for safe-keepin', or whether some old prospector had left it there a long time ago and maybe got sculped by the Injuns and never come back to git it. We agreed to leave it alone for a month, and if it was still there at that time, we'd feel purty shore that the original owner was dead, and we'd split the gold between us. Well, last night I got to worryin' somebody'd find it which wasn't as honest as me, so this mornin' I thought I better go see if it was still there…"
At this point Erath laughed bitterly.
Joel glared at him ominously and continued: "Well, no sooner I hove in sight of the holler tree than this skunk let go at me from the bresh with a rifle-gun-"
"That's a lie!" yelped Erath. "It war jest the other way around!"
"Not bein' armed, Breckinridge," Joel said with dignity, "and realizin' that this coyote was tryin' to murder me so he could claim all the gold, I legged it for home and my weppins. And presently I sighted him sprintin' through the bresh after me."
Erath begun to foam slightly at the mouth. "I warn't chasin' you," he said. "I was goin' home after my rifle-gun."
"What's yore story, Erath?" I inquired.
