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NED WILDING'S
DISAPPEARANCE
Or
The Darewell Chums
in the City
BY
ALLEN CHAPMAN
AUTHOR OF "BART STIRLING'S ROAD TO SUCCESS," "WORKING
HARD TO WIN," "BOUND TO SUCCEED," "THE YOUNG
STOREKEEPER," "NAT BORDEN'S FIND," ETC.
[Illustration: _The_
GOLDSMITH
_Publishing Co._
CLEVELAND OHIO
MADE IN U.S.A.]
COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE NEW GUN 1
II. PREPARING FOR A HUNT 8
III. OFF IN THE WOODS 15
IV. THE FIRST TURKEY 19
V. THE BLIZZARD 23
VI. A LONELY CABIN 30
VII. HOME FOR THANKSGIVING 38
VIII. GETTING SQUARE WITH SANDY 45
IX. SANTA CLAUS IN SCHOOL 52
X. WRECK OF THE TOWER 61
XI. NED GETS A LETTER 69
XII. NED STARTS OFF 77
XIII. STARTLING NEWS 85
XIV. NED'S BUSINESS VENTURE 94
XV. IN TROUBLE 103
XVI. ADRIFT IN NEW YORK 111
XVII. THE CHUMS ARRIVE 120
XVIII. HUNTING FOR NED 125
XIX. DOWN THE ROPE 132
XX. IN THE LODGING HOUSE 143
XXI. NED FLEES AGAIN 149
XXII. OUT IN THE STORM 159
XXIII. NED'S PREDICAMENT 168
XXIV. A QUEER IDENTIFICATION 175
XXV. NED SHOVELS SNOW 187
XXVI. CASSIDY CATCHES NED 197
XXVII. BAFFLED AGAIN 216
XXVIII. NED A PRISONER 222
XXIX. NED IS FOUND--CONCLUSION 229
NED WILDING'S DISAPPEARANCE
CHAPTER I
THE NEW GUN
The Keene household was suddenly aroused from peacefulness, one quiet
afternoon, by a loud thud as if something had fallen. It was followed by
a report like an explosion. Then, from Bart's room, sounded a series of
yells.
"Wow! Ouch! Jimminities!"
"He's hurt!" exclaimed his sister Alice, as she ran toward her brother's
room. As she entered she saw him running about the apartment, which was
filled with smoke, holding one hand in the other. Drops of blood were
coming from his fingers.
"What's the matter? Are you hurt?" asked Alice. "Oh, Bart, are you
really hurt?"
"Am I hurt? Do you think I'm doing this for fun? Where's mother?"
"She's gone out. I'm the only one home."
"Get a rag or something, will you please Alice?" and Bart danced around
on one leg, holding the other limb out so stiffly that he knocked over
several chairs.
"Is your leg hurt too, Bart?"
"No, it's only my three fingers."
"But you stuck one leg out so I thought that was injured also."
"I'd stick 'em both out if it would only ease this pain any! Maybe my
fingers will have to come off!"
"Oh, Bart! What did it?"
"My new gun. I went to lay it down on the table and it fell to the floor
and went off. Did you hear it?"
"I couldn't very well help it. Did the bullet go through your hand?"
"It doesn't shoot bullets. It shoots shot, and I guess it only grazed a
few fingers. Most of the shot went into the wall," and Bart gazed at a
dark spot on the wall-paper, and then looked at his injured hand. "I
didn't think it would go off so easily," he added.
"Oh, those horrid guns!" exclaimed the girl. "I just knew when papa let
you send for it--"
"Say, Alice, if you ever intend to be a trained nurse you'd better get
to work on me before I faint!" cried Bart. "Now don't talk any more,
that's a good girl. Get a rag before I bleed to death."
"Oh, Bart, I'm so sorry! Of course I'll fix you up. Wait until I get my
book," and Alice, whose ambition was to be a nurse and wear a blue and
white striped uniform, hurried to her room and came back with a little
book. On the cover was a red cross, and the inscription, "First Aid to
the Injured."
"What kind of a wound is it, Bart?" Alice asked, rapidly turning the
leaves of the volume.
"How should I know? It's a painful wound, if that's what you mean."
"Oh, no! Is it incised or lacerated or a contused one? Because you see I
have to give it different kind of treatment if it's an incised wound
than I would if it's a lacerated one."
"Oh, give me any kind of treatment!" and Bart began to dance around
again. "The shot grazed my fingers, that's all I know!"
"I guess that's a lacerated wound," Alice replied a little doubtfully,
as she took a look at her brother's bleeding hand. Then she turned to
the page of the book that treated of lacerated hurts and read:
"'These wounds have ragged edges and the skin is torn and bruised.'"
"That's me all right," interrupted Bart.
"'They result from force so applied as to tear rather than cut the
tissues cleanly,'" the girl read on.
"Oh, I'm cut all right," put in Bart. "Hurry up Alice, stick some court
plaster on and let it go at that."
"Why, Bart Keene! I'm ashamed of you! The idea of me putting such a
common remedy as court plaster on a wound! Why, you'd get bloodpoison
and other dreadful things! I must treat this just as I expect to treat
other wounds when I get to be a trained nurse."
"You'll never get to be one at this rate," Bart cut in.
"'They are caused by railway and machinery accidents,'" Alice read on,
"'by falling timbers, stones and brick. Such wounds are frequently
followed by shock.'"
"Well, this wasn't a railroad accident, nor one caused by falling bricks
or timber," Bart retorted. "I guess it will come under the head of
machinery. A gun's machinery, I s'pose. But I can testify to the shock.
Wow!" and, as a sudden spasm of pain seized him, he snatched his hand
from the grasp of his sister and again began dancing around on one leg.
"Hold still! How can I treat the wound if you jerk around that way?"
demanded Alice.
"Treat the wound! You aren't treating any wound!" retorted Bart. "I
could treat ten wounds in that time! All you're doing is talk! If Fenn
Masterson or Ned Wilding was here they'd have a rag around this long
ago."
"Yes, and it would probably be full of germs and other things and you'd
be dead of lock-jaw," said Alice calmly. "Now Bart, come here. I know
what kind of a wound it is, and I must see how to fix it," and once more
securing her brother's hand for examination, she began to leaf over the
book.
"'Treatment,'" she read. "'Cleanse the wound thoroughly with warm water,
lay a wet cloth over it and bandage lightly. If symptoms of shock are
present they must receive careful attention. See page twenty-two.'"
"Never mind the shock, just get a rag on these fingers before I lose all
the blood I've got and we'll talk shock afterward," interrupted Bart.
Then Alice, laying aside her book, brought some warm water in a basin,
and some soft cloths, and soon had Bart's hand tied up in a sling.
"You've got enough rags on here to make my hand look as big as my head,"
objected the boy, as he gazed at the bandage his sister had adjusted.
"You don't want to catch cold in it," she replied. "It is very chilly
to-day. I think we're going to have more snow."
"Ought to have some, with Thanksgiving here in about a week," replied
Bart.
"How did you get hurt?" asked his sister again.
"I was examining my new shotgun. It just came--Hark! Who's that calling?"
"Oh, some of the boys I s'pose," and Alice went to the window and looked
down to the street, whence came a series of shrill whistles.
"Raise the window and I'll yell to 'em to come up," said Bart.
"Don't you come near this window," commanded Alice. "You forget you're
under treatment. If you should catch cold in that hand it might be
terrible! I'll call the boys. You go back in that corner."
Then, as Bart meekly obeyed, Alice raised the sash and called:
"Come up, boys! Bart is hurt and can't come down!"
"They'll think I'm in bed," her brother objected.
A few seconds later there sounded the noise of several feet on the
stairs. A moment afterward three lads hurried into the room. They had
just come from school, but Bart had not attended the afternoon session.
"Hello Frank!" cried Bart. "Howdy, Stumpy? How are you, Ned?"
"What's the matter?" asked Ned, noticing the bandage on Bart's hand.
"Oh, hurt myself with the gun. Went off before I was ready."
"The gun!" exclaimed Frank.
"Got a new gun?" asked Fenn.
"Let's see it," demanded Ned.
"Here she is," exclaimed Bart, and then, forgetting his sore hand, he
took from the corner a fine shotgun. "It's a beauty," he went on. "It's
got patent--"
"Oh! Oh!" screamed Alice. "Your hand!"