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Washington Irving: An American Original (Click here)
 "On awaking, he found himself on the green knoll from whence he had first seen the old
man of the glen. He rubbed his eyes—it was a bright sunny morning. The birds were hopping and twittering among the bushes,
and the eagle was wheeling aloft and breasting the pure mountain breeze. “Surely,” thought Rip, “I have
not slept here all night.” He recalled the occurrences before he fell asleep. The strange man with a keg of liquor—the
mountain ravine—the wild retreat among the rocks—the woe-begone party at ninepins—the flagon—“Oh!
that flagon! that wicked flagon!” thought Rip—“what excuse shall I make to Dame Van Winkle?” He looked
round for his gun, but in place of the clean, well-oiled fowling piece, he found an old firelock lying by him, the barrel
incrusted with rust, the lock falling off, and the stock worm-eaten. He now suspected that the grave roysters of the mountain
had put a trick upon him, and having dosed him with liquor, had robbed him of his gun. Wolf, too, had disappeared, but he
might have strayed away after a squirrel or partridge. He whistled after him, shouted his name, but all in vain; the echoes
repeated his whistle and shout, but no dog was to be seen". Washington Irving Excerpt from Irving’s story
“Rip Van Winkle”
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