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Updated: May 28, 2025
Hunter was owner of the famous Brereton Quarry & Stone Works, located about a mile above the thriving village of Brereton, on the eastern bank of the Castaran river, and at a somewhat greater distance below the town of Denville.
When I was nineteen years old my father sold the Chateau d' Enville, and purchased my commission in the "Fifty-sixth" with the proceeds. "I say, Denville," said young McSpadden, a boy-faced ensign, who had just joined, "you'll represent the estate in the Army, if you won't in the House." Poor fellow, he paid for his meaningless joke with his life, for I shot him through the heart the next morning.
"You're a good fellow, Denville," said the poor boy faintly, as I knelt beside him: "good by!" For the first time since my grandfather's death I wept. I could not help thinking that I would have been a better man if Blanche but why proceed? Was she not now in Florence the belle of the English Embassy? But Napoleon had returned from Elba. Europe was in a blaze of excitement.
The boys, under the advice of Judge Bennett, had planned to go to Chicago. From there they would take a train on another road, which made connections with the line that would land them in Denver. From Denver they had to change to still another railway to get to Fillmore, the nearest station to Denville.
Then a horse was hitched fast, and with Tim driving, and with Warren and his father and two men on board, the craft began slowly moving against the sluggish current. The start was made in the morning, and before the forenoon was half gone they were at the lower end of Denville, where preparations were quickly made for crossing the river.
"Never!" I cried passionately; "he has insulted a Denville!" "Terence," she whispered, "Terence for my sake?" The blood rushed to my cheeks, and her eyes sought the ground in bashful confusion. "You love him then?" I cried bitterly. "No, no," she said agitatedly, "no, you do me wrong. I I cannot explain myself.
"You're a good fellow, Denville," said the poor boy faintly, as I knelt beside him; "good-by!" For the first time since my grandfather's death I wept. I could not help thinking that I would have been a better man if Blanche But why proceed? Was she not now in Florence the belle of the English embassy? But Napoleon had returned from Elba. Europe was in a blaze of excitement.
When I was nineteen years old my father sold the Chateau d'Enville and purchased my commission in the "Fifty-sixth" with the proceeds. "I say, Denville," said young McSpadden, a boy-faced ensign, who had just joined, "you'll represent the estate in the Army, if you won't in the House." Poor fellow, he paid for his meaningless joke with his life, for I shot him through the heart the next morning.
Your father will not trust himself in sight of a town. In fact it is almost as hard to communicate with him as it is with me." "Where are the Golden Glow mountains?" asked Jack. "The nearest town is Denville," was the answer. "Denville!" exclaimed Jack. "Yes, what is there strange in that?" "Why, we are going to Denville," Jack replied, "That's where Nat's uncle's ranch is."
Where is this ranch?" "Near Denville, Colorado," replied Nat. John started and looked at Jack. "Nothing the matter with that place, is there?" asked Jack. "No. On the contrary it couldn't be better," replied John. "That's where we want to go to settle the mystery " He stopped, evidently on account of Nat's presence. "Oh, Nat knows all about it," said Jack. "I see what you're driving at."
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