CONCLUSION.
General Howard did not look or act like a man who was very badly
overworked, nor did he seem to be at all anxious over the result of the
heavy firing that was going on on the left of the line. He had pulled
off his coat and riding boots, and when the orderly entered to tell him
that Private Rodney Gray of the --th Missouri Cavalry had come there to
see him by his orders, he was tilling his pipe preparatory to indulging
in a smoke. He greeted Rodney pleasantly, and pointed with the stem of
his pipe to an empty cracker box.
"Turn that up and sit down," said he; whereupon the orderly opened his
eyes in wonder. There was a much wider gulf between the officers and
privates in the rebel army than there was in our own, especially after
the war had been going on for about a year. The sons of rich men, who
had shouldered a musket at the beginning, began working their way out of
the ranks, leaving behind them only those who were too poor or too low
in the social scale to command the influence that was necessary to bring
them a commission. As a rule rich people in the South did not think much
of poor white trash. The latter were good enough to fight and obey
orders, but scarcely good enough to be treated with civility; so when
General Howard told his visitor to turn up the cracker box and sit down
on it, the orderly straightway made up his mind that Rodney Gray was a
little better than the common run of folks, even if he was a private
soldier.
"I don't suppose you have thought of me once since I bid you good-by at
that woodcutters' camp," said the general, throwing himself upon a rude
couch and propping his head up with his hand. "But I have often thought
of you, and a few months ago I was down Mooreville way on a scout. I
passed right by your father's plantation, and finding out who he was,
and being a trifle hungry besides, I dropped in and invited myself to
dinner with him and your mother."
Rodney was delighted to hear this, but all he said was that he hoped the
general had enjoyed his visit.
"I assure you I did, and the dinner too," was the smiling reply. "And
during the hour I passed there I learned a good deal concerning your
life in Missouri, and heard some portions of your letters read. Your
parents were much surprised to know that I met you on your way up the
river, and I renewed to them the promise I believe I made you on the
steamer that if I could ever do you a fatherly kindness I would. I am
glad to see you in my brigade, but I don't quite understand how it comes
that you are still a private. Haven't you done your duty, or wouldn't
your officers push you?"
"The fault is my own, sir," answered Rodney. "I might have gone higher
but I didn't care to."
Then he went on to tell the general about Dick Graham. The latter was a
Barrington boy too, he said, and they had made it up between them that
it wouldn't be worth while for them to accept promotion, for they had
only a year to serve, and besides they did not want to run the risk of
being separated.
"Oh, as to that, you mustn't expect to stick together all the time,"
replied the general. "The exigencies of the service will not admit of
it; you know that yourself. Still I will try to do something for your
friend too, if I find upon inquiry of your regimental and company
officers that he is worthy. I lost four of my staff at the battle of
Farmington, and, if you like, will order you and Sergeant Graham to
present yourselves for examination."
Rodney fairly gasped for breath, and wished that the general had not
taken quite so deep an interest in him. The crisis was coming now, and
he nerved himself for it.
"I am very much obliged, general," he faltered. "But my time will be up
in about two weeks, and I should like to go home and see my folks."'
Rodney expected that his superior would be surprised to hear this, and
his actions showed that he certainly was, and a little angry, as well.
He arose to a sitting posture on the couch, and jammed the tobacco down
in his pipe with a spiteful motion as he said, rather curtly:
"You must give up all such nonsense. I am not going to deplete my
brigade, at this most critical time, by letting everybody go home who
takes a fool's notion into his head that he wants to. According to law I
am obliged to discharge all one year's men when their term of service
expires; but they shall never get out of my lines. I'll conscript them
as fast as a provost guard can catch them."
The general settled back on his elbow again and looked at his visitor as
if to inquire what he thought of the situation. Rodney thought it was
dark enough, and showed what he thought by the gloomy expression that
came upon his face. He gazed down at the cap he was twirling in his
hands and said nothing. The general relented.
"I don't want to be hard on you, Rodney," said he, speaking in much the
same tone that a kind and indulgent father might use in reproving an
erring son, "but can't you see for yourself what would happen to us and
our government if we should weaken our armies by discharging troops at
this juncture? The enemy has a hundred and forty thousand men in our
front at this minute, and more coming. Memphis is taken, New Orleans has
fallen, the railroads, except those that run south of us, are in
Halleck's possession, and if the enemy along the river moves quickly,
the troops we have sent to fortify Vicksburg will not have time to lift
a shovel full of dirt before the Mississippi clear to the Gulf will be
lost to us. I tell you the situation is critical in the extreme, and if
we don't look out, and fight as men never fought before, the Lincoln
government will have us in the dust in less than two months. I'll not
let a man of you go, and that's all there is about it."
The general puffed vigorously at his pipe and looked as though he meant
every word he said. Was this the man who had promised on two different
occasions that he would lend Rodney a helping hand if the opportunity
was ever presented? Discouraged and perplexed as he was, the boy could
still think clearly enough to draw a contrast between this arbitrary
action of a so-called government, which claimed to be fighting for the
rights of its people, to do as they pleased and the course pursued by
the Union General Lyon at the battle of Wilson's Creek. Rodney learned
through some prisoners his regiment captured (and history to-day
confirms the story) that Lyon had seven thousand men when he reached
Springfield; two thousand short-term men demanded their release and got
it; and the Union commander went on and fought the battle with five
thousand. Perhaps the old government was not quite so bad after all.
"But you see, sir," said Rodney, after a moment's reflection, "my
comrade and I do not come under the terms of the Conscription Act. We
are not yet eighteen years of age."
The surprised look that came over the general's face showed very plainly
that that was a point that had slipped his mind entirely. The boy had
him there, and he hardly knew whether to laugh or get angry over it.
"And do you intend to take advantage of that provision of the Act?" he
inquired.
"We'd like to, sir," was all Rodney thought it prudent to say in reply.
His superior was nettled, and the boy wanted to leave him in good humor
and get out of his presence as soon as possible.
"That settles it," said the general, getting upon his feet and knocking
the ashes from his pipe in a manner which seemed to say that the
interview was at an end. "I'll take pains to see your colonel, but I do
hope there are not many in my command whose ages are under eighteen or
over thirty-five. However, I may be able to infuse a little patriotism
into them, and shall have something to say about it in a general
order."
"I thank you, sir, for the assurance," replied Rodney.
He made his best salute and retired, but during the rest of the day he
was not as jubilant as he had been when he came off post; and when he
went back that night to do duty at the general's tent, he took note of
the fact that his commander paid no more attention to him than he would
have paid to an entire stranger. Rodney felt hurt at that, and as soon
as he could do so, after guard-mount the next morning, he hunted up his
friend Dick and told him the whole story. He wanted sympathy and
encouragement and got both.
"You did perfectly right," said Dick, emphatically. "We could have
passed the examination easy enough, and in a week or two might have been
galloping around camp covered with gold lace, and looking as sweet as
two government pets; but we don't care half as much for staff office as
we do for our discharges. You made the general mad and I am sorry for
that; but after all it's natural, for the commander who discharges the
smallest number of men will stand highest in the good graces of his
superiors. See? So long as he keeps his troops in the service, it
doesn't make a particle of difference whether he keeps them in by
promises or threats. He's a bully fellow, and the despots at Richmond
will reward him."
Some of the sergeant's words were confirmed that very afternoon, and in
a most startling manner. For days it had been whispered about among the
men that there was trouble brewing in General Bragg's corps, and on this
particular day it was brought to a head by the mutiny of a Tennessee
regiment, who stacked arms and refused to do duty. The twelve months for
which they volunteered had expired and they wanted to go home. Before
entering the service they made provision for their families for just one
year, and since that time their State had been over-ran with raiding
parties from both armies, their crops had been destroyed, their stock
killed, their buildings given to the flames, and their wives and
children turned out into the weather. They wanted to see these helpless
ones taken to places of security, and then they would return to a man,
and stand by their comrades until the last Yankee invader had been
driven into the Ohio river. But Bragg said they shouldn't go, and fixed
things so they couldn't. He did just what Beauregard did when Hindman's
Arkansas troops prepared to return to their State to repel the
"invasion" of General Curtis. He told them that if they didn't pick up
those guns in less than five minutes he would have the last one of them
shot, and they picked them up; but in an hour's time it was whispered
through the ramp that all the service old Daddy Bragg would get out of
those Tennesseans wouldn't amount to much. We shall presently see how
much truth there was in the report.
A few days after this the order of which General Howard had spoken was
issued, and read to those regiments in the brigade whose term of service
was about to expire. They were informed that they would now come under
the Conscript Act, and that every man of them who was subject to service
under that Act would be summarily conscripted unless he chose to
re-enlist. The regiments to whom the order was addressed had all
performed gallant service and gained imperishable honors, and the
general hoped they would preserve both their name and organization by
volunteering in a body to serve for two years, or until the end of the
war. If they did, they would have the privilege of electing their own
officers, and would be placed on the same footing as the other volunteer
regiments; and those of their number who, by reason of age, were not
subject to conscription, would serve until the 15th of July, when they
would be discharged.
The order concluded with a fierce denunciation of General Butler's rule
in New Orleans and a glowing appeal to their patriotism, all of which
the men cheered lustily; but when the ranks were broken and the
different "cliques" got together, they did not try to keep up any show
of spirit. So far as Rodney Gray could learn, there was not a man in his
regiment who would have volunteered if he had seen a fair chance to
desert and get across the river. Desertion was a thing that had never
been talked of before among Price's men. As volunteers, they would have
died rather than think of such a cowardly way of getting out of the
army, but it was different now. Even, if they re-enlisted under the
provisions of the Conscript Act, how much better would they be than
conscripts while bearing the name of volunteers? They would be forced
into the army against their will, wouldn't they and wouldn't that make
them conscripts? They appeared to submit because they could not help
themselves; but desertions took place every day. Some got safely off,
but those who were caught in the act were shot without any trial at all.
The men were sullen, talked mutiny among themselves, and Rodney Gray
looked for nothing else but to see them rise in a body, kill their
tyrannical officers, and disperse to their homes. It was a terrible
state of affairs, the nearest approach to anarchy there ever was or ever
will be in this country, and during those troublous days and the
subsequent retreat to Tupelo, General Halleck received into his lines no
less than fifteen thousand deserters.
The farce of electing new officers and reorganizing the various
companies and regiments in the brigade took place in due time, and once
more Dick Graham found himself in the ranks. He was not a candidate for
any office and neither was Rodney, although they might have had
commissions if they had chosen to accept them. They did not so much as
hint that they had been offered something better than the company or
regiment could give them--a position on the general's staff--for they
did not think it would be policy to do it. There were plenty of mean men
in their regiment, as there were in every one in the service, and since
they could not get discharges themselves, they would have been glad if
they could have kept Rodney and Dick from getting them; and if they had
suspected that Rodney had a friend in the general of the brigade, they
would have reported him every chance they got, no matter whether he had
done anything wrong or not. After this the two friends waited with as
much patience as they could for the time to come around when they would
be free once more.
During this time almost constant fighting had been going on somewhere
along the line, and although Rodney and Dick could not see the use of
it, those in authority could, for they were quietly making preparations
to withdraw from a place which was no longer of use to them. On the
26th, 27th, and 28th of the month, the fighting was very severe, and
Rodney's regiment, which was at the front, was badly cut up. Although
Dick Graham was now a private he was called upon at times to do duty as
a sergeant, and on the afternoon of the 28th, he was sent with a small
squad, one of whom was Rodney Gray, to take charge of an advanced post.
It was much nearer our lines than were the trenches in which the
regiment was fighting, but it was also much safer, for the shells from
both sides went high over their heads. Here they remained in perfect
security, talking, laughing and telling stories while the roar of battle
was going on all around them, and waiting for their relief, which was to
come at six o'clock. It did not come, however, until after nine, and by
that time it had grown so dark that it was only after infinite trouble
and bother that they succeeded in finding their way back to the main
line, only to learn after they arrived there, that their regiment had
been withdrawn three hours before, and nobody could tell where it was
now. Dick Graham didn't care much where it was, for he had no intention
of going to it that night. It was more than three miles to camp, and
Dick saw, when he passed that way three days before, that the road was
blocked with wagons, artillery trains and stable-lines, and to these
obstructions were now added sleeping men, who would not be over civil to
any one who chanced to stumble against them in the dark. So Dick drew
his squad off into the woods out of the way and went into camp; that is
to say, he ate the little piece of hard tack he found in his haversack,
washed it down with a drink of warm water from his canteen, rolled
himself up in his blanket and went to sleep.
"There goes reveille," exclaimed Rodney, hitting him a poke in the ribs
the next morning about daylight. "But it's in the enemy's camp, and I
don't think we'll pay much attention to it. I am going to sleep again."
"Say," said one of the men, "I reckon we'd best be toddling along, for
if I didn't hear wagons and troops moving all night, I dreamed it. Let's
get up and go as far as the diggings any way, and get a bite to eat."
The "diggings" referred to was a pile of hard-tack which, when Rodney
first saw it, was almost as long and high as the railroad depot. There
were several thousand boxes in the pile, and there they had been beside
the road, exposed to all sorts of weather, ever since they arrived in
Corinth. Why they were not served out to the men instead of lying there
to waste no one knew or cared to ask; but every squad that passed that
way made it a point to stop long enough to break open a few boxes and
fill their haversacks. Toward these "diggings" Dick and his men bent
their steps, and before they were fairly out of the woods in which they
had slept, they became aware that they had been deserted. There was not
a man in sight, and the guns which looked threateningly at them over the
top of the nearest redoubt, they found on inspection to be logs of
wood.
"Beauregard's whole army has fallen back, and done it so silently that
they never awoke us," said Dick. "Let us hurry on and get into our lines
before some of the enemy's cavalry come along and gobble us up. What do
you see, Rodney?"
"I am afraid we are gobbled already," was the answer, "I saw some men
dodging about in the woods over there. If they are not the enemy's
pickets they must be our rear guard, and as we can't get away we had
better go over and make ourselves square with them."
This proposition met with the approval of his comrades, but it did not
seem to suit the men in the woods, for Dick's squad had not gone many
steps in their direction when some one called out:
"By the right flank, march!" and the command was emphasized by the
sudden appearance of half a dozen muskets which were pointed straight at
them.
"Who are you, and what are you doing there?" demanded Dick.
"Who are you, and what do you want of us?" asked one of the men in
reply. "Are you from Tennessee?"
"No; Missouri."
"By the right flank, then, and toddle right along. You want no truck
with us; but if you meet old Daddy Bragg tell him to come and see us.
We've got something for him."
"All right," answered Dick, as he and his squad faced to the right and
marched away. "Good-by, and good luck to you. I don't think old Bragg
will come out," he added, when the men had been left out of hearing.
"They'd shoot him as quick as they would any other varmint. There must
be two or three hundred in that party, and they straggled out of the
ranks last night in the dark. They'll stay there until the enemy's
advance passes, and then they'll come out and give themselves up. Slick
scheme, but I'd die before I would do it myself."
The squad halted at the "diggings" long enough to fill their haversacks,
and then kept on after the army, marching with a quick step and keeping
a good look-out for the Federal cavalry, which they knew would be sent
out to pick up stragglers as soon as Beauregard's retreat became known
to Halleck. They were in no hurry to overtake their comrades, for they
were doing very well by themselves, and neither did they want to be
picked up and treated as deserters by their own rear guard. But if there
_was_ any rear guard they never saw it, although they ran into another
body of Tennesseans, more than a thousand of them this time, who told
them that the army gone on toward Tupelo, thirty-five miles from
Corinth. No one seemed to know why Corinth had been abandoned, and it
turned out afterward that the Richmond government disapproved of it, for
the command was taken from Beauregard and given to Bragg, the man whom
all his soldiers feared and hated, and who, a few months later, said to
the people of Kentucky, "I am here with an army which numbers not less
than sixty thousand men. I bring you the olive-branch which you refuse
at your peril." But proclamations and threats did not take Kentucky out
of the Union.
It took the boys five days to cover the thirty-five miles that lay
between Corinth and Tupelo, and they were by no means the last of the
stragglers to come in. The men who had been left behind, and who had no
intention of deserting, were nevertheless bound to enjoy their liberty
while they had the chance, and some of them did not arrive for two
weeks.
In process of time the descriptive list and discharges of those who came
under the exemption clause of the Conscription Act were made out, but
there was so much red tape to be gone through with before all the
provisions of the Act could be carried out, that the two friends were in
a fever of suspense for fear that something might happen at the last
minute to blast their hopes. Their officers did not want to let them go,
and the slightest hitch in the proceedings would have made conscripts of
them. But in their case everything worked smoothly, and finally all they
had to do was to go to the paymaster and get their Confederate scrip.
Being provided with passes which would take them as far as the lines of
the Confederacy extended, they took leave of their friends, not without
a feeling of regret it must be confessed, and boarded the cars for Camp
Pinckney, which was located a hundred miles from New Orleans. After they
left the camp their passes would be of no use to them, for it was said
that the country between there and Mooreville, forty miles east of Baton
Rouge, was over-run with Federal cavalry. They reached the camp without
any mishap, ran the guard in order to get out of it (but that was not a
difficult thing to do, for nearly all the soldiers in camp were
conscripts who had not had time to learn their business), and before
they had gone ten miles on their way toward Mooreville, came plump upon
a small squad of Union cavalry, who covered them with their carbines and
told them to "come in out of the rain." It was hard to be "gobbled up"
within two days' walk of home, but the boys put a bold face on the
matter. The corporal and his three men seemed to be a jolly,
good-natured lot, and the ex-Confederates knew they would be sure of
kind treatment as long as they remained in their hands.
"You've got us easy enough," said Dick. "Now what are you going to do
with us?"
"Take you down to Baton Rouge and put you where you'll not have a chance
to shoot any more Yanks," replied the corporal. "Where's your
regiment?"
"We don't know; and not wishing to give you a short answer, we don't
care. We never shot any Yanks, and neither do we mean to go where they
are again if we can help it. We've got our discharges in our pockets."
"Seeing is believing. Hand 'em out."
The boys complied, and as they did so Rodney remarked that if they had
known that the corporal was as white a man as they had found him, they
wouldn't have "come in out of the rain" so readily. They would have
taken to their heels and trusted to his forbearance.
"I am glad you didn't try it," replied the corporal, reading the
discharges one after the other and passing them over to his men. "A
gray-back streaking it through the bushes would be a mighty tempting
target, even to fellows like ourselves who don't shoot only when we have
to. Have you got enough of the service?"
"More than we want," answered Dick.
"Well, you can't be forced into the army until you are of the right age,
and in the meantime I don't suppose you will do us any great damage.
What do you say, boys?"
"I say let 'em go home and see their mammies," replied one of the squad;
and the others nodding assent, the corporal jerked his thumb over his
shoulder and told them to "git."
"It is no more than we expected of you, but we thank you all the same,"
said Rodney, gratefully. "I live down this way, three miles from
Mooreville, and if you ever come along our road, drop in and we'll treat
you right. The mouse did the lion a favor once, and who knows but that a
boy who is not old enough to be conscripted, may be able to do something
for one of Uncle Sam's men?"
"Good for you, Johnny. You're no reb. Any up this way?"
"None nearer than Camp Pinckney. If there are we did not see them."
With hearts full of thankfulness the boys resumed their journey, and on
the afternoon of the second day following, came within sight of Rodney's
home. It set his eyes to streaming, and gave such elasticity to his step
that Dick could scarcely keep pace with him. As he led his friend up the
wide front steps he recalled to mind the parting that had taken place
there more than fifteen months before, and the confident words he had
uttered about "driving the Yankees out of Missouri." He and his friends
had been driven out instead, and there was no hope that Missouri would
ever belong to the Confederacy.
"Alabama--here we rest," exclaimed Rodney, pushing Dick into an easy
chair in the parlor, which they found to be unoccupied. "Stay there till
I find somebody."
"I don't look fit," began Dick, glancing down at his dusty uniform; but
just then a door opened, a lady came in, and the words "Mother!" and
"Oh, my son, my son!" told Dick that "somebody" had found Rodney.
If ever a boy appreciated home and its comforts it was Rodney Gray, no
longer a wild, unreasoning partisan, but sober and thoughtful beyond his
years. Here we will leave him until the time comes for us to tell how
Dick Graham got across the river, and take up the history of the
adventures and exploits of our Union hero, Marcy Gray, whom we left in
his home in North Carolina. Marcy's "_Secret Enemies_" and his
determination to be "_True to his Colors_" brought him into difficulty
more than once; and what those difficulties were, and how he came
through them, shall be told in the third volume of this series, which
will be entitled "MARCY, THE BLOCKADE-RUNNER."
THE END.
THE
FAMOUS
CASTLEMON
BOOKS.
BY
HARRY
CASTLEMON.
[Illustration: Specimen Cover of the Gunboat Series.]
No author of the present day has become a greater favorite with boys
than "Harry Castlemon;" every book by him is sure to meet with hearty
reception by young readers generally. His naturalness and vivacity lead
his readers from page to page with breathless interest, and when one
volume is finished the fascinated reader, like Oliver Twist, asks "for
more."
** Any volume sold separately.
----
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illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . $3 75
Joe Wayring at Home; or, Story of a Fly Rod. . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Snagged and Sunk; or, The Adventures of a Canvas Canoe . . . . . 1 25
Steel Horse; or, The Rambles of a Bicycle. . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
"WAR SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 4 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated.
Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . . . . . . . $5 00
True to his Colors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Rodney, the Partisan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Marcy, the Blockade Runner . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Marcy, the Refugee . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
OUR FELLOWS; or, Skirmishes with the Swamp Dragoons. By Harry Castlemon.
16mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
ALGER'S
RENOWNED
BOOKS.
BY
HORATIO
ALGER, JR.
[Illustration: Specimen Cover of the Ragged Dick Series.]
Horatio Alger, Jr., has attained distinction as one of the most popular
writers of books for boys, and the following list comprises all of his
best books.
Any volume sold separately.
----
RAGGED DICK SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 6 vols., 12mo. Fully
illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . $7 50
Ragged Dick; or, Street Life in New York . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Fame and Fortune; or, The Progress of Richard Hunter . . . . . . 1 25
Mark, the Match Boy; or, Richard Hunter's Ward . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Rough and Ready; or, Life among the New York Newsboys. . . . . . 1 25
Ben, the Luggage Boy; or, Among the Wharves. . . . . . . . . . .. 1 25
Rufus and Rose; or, the Fortunes of Rough and Ready. . . . . . . 1 25
TATTERED TOM SERIES. (FIRST SERIES.) By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols.,
12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box $5 00
Tattered Tom; or, The Story of a Street Arab . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Paul, the Peddler; or, The Adventures of a Young Street Merchant 1 25
Phil, the Fiddler; or, The Young Street Musician . . . . . . . . 1 25
Slow and Sure; or, From the Sidewalk to the Shop . . . . . . . . 1 25
TATTERED TOM SERIES. (SECOND SERIES.) 4 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated.
Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . . . . . . . $5 00
Julius; or the Street Boy Out West . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
The Young Outlaw; or, Adrift in the World. . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Sam's Chance and How He Improved it. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
The Telegraph Boy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES. (FIRST SERIES.) By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols.,
12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box $5 00
Luck and Pluck; or John Oakley's Inheritance . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Sink or Swim; or, Harry Raymond's Resolve. . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Strong and Steady; or, Paddle Your Own Canoe . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Strive and Succeed; or, The Progress of Walter Conrad. . . . . . 1 25
LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES. (SECOND SERIES.) By Horatio Alger, Jr. 3 vols.,
12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box $5 00
Try and Trust; or, The Story of a Bound Boy. . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Bound to Rise; or Harry Walton's Motto . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Risen from the Ranks; or, Harry Walton's Success . . . . . . . . 1 25
Herbert Carter's Legacy; or, The Inventor's Son. . . . . . . . . 1 25
CAMPAIGN SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated.
Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . . . . . . . $3 75
Prank's Campaign; or, The Farm and the Camp. . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Paul Prescott's Charge . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Charlie Codman's Cruise. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
BRAVE AND BOLD SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols., 12mo. Fully
illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . $5 00
Brave and Bold; or, The Story of a Factory Boy . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Jack's Ward; or, The Boy Guardian. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Shifting for Himself; or, Gilbert Greyson's Fortunes . . . . . . 1 25
Wait and Hope; or, Ben Bradford's Motto. . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
PACIFIC SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols. 12mo. Fully illustrated.
Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . . . . . . . $5 00
The Young Adventurer; or, Tom's Trip Across the Plains . . . . . 1 25
The Young Miner; or, Tom Nelson in California. . . . . . . . . . 1 25
The Young Explorer; or, Among the Sierras. . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Ben's Nugget; or, A Boy's Search for Fortune. A Story of the Pacific
Coast 1 25
ATLANTIC SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated.
Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . . . . . . . $5 00
The Young Circus Rider; or, The Mystery of Robert Rudd . . . . . 1 25
Do and Dare; or, A Brave Boy's Fight for Fortune . . . . . . . . 1 25
Hector's Inheritance; or, Boys of Smith Institute . . . . . . . 1 25
Helping Himself; or, Grant Thornton's Ambition . . . . . . . . . 1 25
WAY TO SUCCESS SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols., 12mo. Fully
illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . $5 00
Bob Burton . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
The Store Boy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Luke Walton. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Struggling Upward. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
----
NEW BOOK BY ALGER.
DIGGING FOR GOLD. By Horatio Alger, Jr.
Illustrated 12mo. Cloth, black, red and gold . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
A
New Series
of Books.
Indian Life
and
Character
Founded on
Historical
Facts.
[Illustration: Specimen Cover of the Wyoming Series.]
By Edward S. Ellis.
Any volume sold separately.
----
BOY PIONEER SERIES. By Edward S. Ellis. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully
illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . $3 75
Ned in the Block House; or, Life on the Frontier . . . . . . . . 1 25
Ned in the Woods. A Tale of the Early Days in the West . . . . . 1 25
Ned on the River . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
DEERFOOT SERIES. By Edward S. Ellis. In box containing the following. 3
vols,, 12mo. Illustrated . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $3 75
Hunters of the Ozark . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Camp in the Mountains. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
The Last War Trail . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
LOG CABIN SERIES. By Edward S. Ellis. 3 vols.. 12mo. Fully illustrated.
Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . . . . . . . $3 75
Lost Trail . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $1 25
Camp-Fire and Wigwam . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Footprints in the Forest . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
WYOMING SERIES. By Edward S. Ellis. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated.
Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . . . . . . . $3 75
Wyoming. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Storm Mountain . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Cabin in the Clearing. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
----
NEW BOOKS BY EDWARD S. ELLIS.
Through Forest and Fire. 12mo. Cloth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
On the Trail of the Moose. 12mo. Cloth . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
By C. A. Stephens.
----
Rare books for boys bright, breezy, wholesome and instructive; full of
adventure and incident, and information upon natural history. They blend
instruction with amusement contain much useful and valuable information
upon the habits of animals, and plenty of adventure, fun and jollity.
CAMPING OUT SERIES. By C. A. Stephens. 6 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated.
Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . . . . . . . $7 50
Camping Out. As recorded by "Kit". . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Left on Labrador; or The Cruise of the Schooner Yacht "Curfew." As
recorded by "Wash" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Off to the Geysers; or, The Young Yachters in Iceland.
As recorded by "Wade". . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
Lynx Hunting. From Notes by the author of "Camping Out". . . . . 1 25
Fox Hunting. As recorded by "Raed" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25
On the Amazon; or, The Cruise of the "Rambler." As recorded by "Wash" 1
25
----
By J. T. Trowbridge.
----
These stories will rank among the best of Mr. Trowbridge's books for the
young and he has written some of the best of our juvenile literature.
JACK HAZARD SERIES. By J. T. Trowbridge. 6 vols., 12mo. Fully
Illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . $7 50