INTO THE JAWS OF DEATH.
"That's queer, Rob!"
"What's queer, Merritt, the way you've been sitting and staring for the
last ten minutes?"
"No; that odd noise. Don't you hear it?"
The two lads were seated in the cabin of the submarine on "night guard
duty," as it was called. Following the anxious days when Berghoff had
made affairs on the island so filled with uneasiness for the Scouts and
their friends, this sentry duty had been regularly maintained.
On this particular night the task had fallen to Rob and Merritt. There
was nothing very arduous about it, the only duty involved being to keep
ears and eyes open. Both lads had been engrossed in books dealing with
their favorite subjects when Merritt called Rob's attention to the odd
sound he had noticed.
"Maybe my ears are not quite so sharp as yours, old boy," said Rob,
after an interval of listening. "I've got a slight cold, anyhow, and
perhaps that's why I don't hear so readily."
"Possibly so."
"You are sure you weren't mistaken?"
"Think I'm hearing things?" indignantly responded Merritt. "No, siree,
I'm willing to bet. Hark! There it is again!"
"By Hookey! I heard it that time, too. What can it be?"
"Hush!"
The noise was a most peculiar one. It seemed to be a sort of scraping on
the outside of the submarine's hull. The diving craft was anchored at
some distance from the shore, so as to be more readily prepared for a
projected run the following day. This made the noise all the more
inexplicable, as, had the craft been in the shed, it might have been
caused by the inventor or the ensign paying a night visit to see that
all was well, which they sometimes did.
"Perhaps it's a log bumping against the side."
"No; it appears to come from under the water."
"That's so," agreed Rob; "tell you what, Merritt, it's up to us to
investigate."
"Yes, let's go on deck and see what we can find out."
Together the two lads climbed the steel stairway leading to the conning
tower, and presently emerged on the rounded steel back of the diving
craft. They stood here for a minute or two, trying to get their eyes
used to the sudden change from the bright light of the cabin to the inky
darkness of the night. It was overcast and starless, and it was
impossible under any condition to see more than a few yards about them.
Suddenly Rob clasped Merritt's arm with a grip that made the other lad
wince.
"Look! Look there!" he cried. "Off there. It's gone now. It only showed
up for an instant."
"It's your turn to be nervous," rejoined Merritt; "blessed if I saw
anything!"
"My eyes must be as sharp as your ears, then. I'd swear I saw a shadowy
thing sneak away from us across the water."
"What sort of a thing?"
"A boat. I only saw it an instant, of course; but I'm sure I wasn't
mistaken."
"You think that somebody in that boat was monkeying with the
_Peacemaker_?"
"That's the only reasonable explanation."
"But what could they have been doing?"
"That remains to be seen; but it's our duty to try to find out."
"What's your plan?"
"Well, that scraping noise appeared to me to come from the under side of
the hull."
"Yes."
"Then that's the place to look for mischief."
"But how are you going to get at it?"
"Dive over and feel around at about the place where we heard the sound."
"That was on the port side and apparently right under the cabin floor."
"Then that's the place to look."
As he spoke, the young leader of the Eagles stripped off his shirt, for
the night was warm and he was coatless, and then divested himself in
turn of his shoes and trousers.
This done, he turned to Merritt.
"I don't know just why, old fellow," he said, "but I've got an idea in
my head, somehow, that there's some sort of dirty trick being put up
to-night."
"What do you mean?"
Merritt asked the question looking into his comrade's eyes as he clasped
Rob's extended hand. For some reason he felt a cold shudder run through
him. What the danger was that Rob dreaded he did not know, but there
was something in the hand-shake that his leader gave him that almost
seemed like a farewell clasp.
Before his inquiry was fairly out of Merritt's mouth, Rob had disengaged
his palm and slipped silently over the side of the submarine. As the
waters closed above him, Merritt almost cried out aloud. The same
mysterious sense of a danger, terrible and imminent, had run through his
brain like a warning flash. But it was too late to recall his comrade
now.
Whatever peril Rob was facing, he was called upon to brave it out alone.
* * * * *
Earlier that evening a small, but fast and high-powered motor boat had
glided almost silently out of Bellport, a fishing village on the coast,
and, waiting till darkness had descended, made at top speed for the
vicinity of the submarine island.
The men who had chartered the craft were two in number. Both were
strangers in Bellport, having driven over there that afternoon from the
adjacent railway station of Farmington. One was an old man,
stoop-shouldered and bleary-eyed. The other was an individual of about
thirty, tall, emaciated, and with a wild light dancing in his crafty
eyes, which darted back and forth as if constantly on the lookout for
something.
Going directly to the Bellport Hotel, they had inquired of Enos
Hardcastle, the proprietor, where they could hire a motor boat.
"A fast one?" croaked the old man.
"The faster the better," supplemented his companion, in a queer, rasping
voice.
Enos scratched his head.
"Wa'al, motor boat's is scarce around here, though some of ther boys
uses 'em in fishing," he said finally.
"Good!" exclaimed the younger of the pair of strangers. "Direct us to
the man who has the fastest one."
"That's Lem Higgins; but Lem drives a hard bargain. It'll cost ye----"
"Never mind the cost; never mind the cost," croaked the old man
impatiently. "Come, Ivan, let's find this Higgins."
"You go ter ther foot of this street and you'll find Lem down on ther
wharf," directed the landlord of the Bellport Hotel, whose curiosity was
by this time aroused. There was something odd about the two strangers,
almost as odd as the large black bag the younger one carried. This
receptacle he held as gingerly as if it contained some article of the
most fragile description.
"Beg pardon, strangers," spoke up Enos, "but what might you be after
havin' in that bag?"
The slender man turned a pair of blazing orbs on him.
"What business is that of yours?" he snapped out, his queer eyes
appearing to emit sparks of malignant fury.
Enos hastened to extend the olive branch.
"Oh, no harm, no harm," he hurriedly exclaimed. "I thought thet you two
might be sellin' suthin' the wife 'ud have a use fer, thet's all. Wanted
to give you a chancet ter drive a trade."
"I reckon your wife wouldn't care much for what's in this bag," snarled
the old man viciously; "and let me give you a bit of advice, my friend:
Don't ask questions and you'll be told no lies."
So saying, the two oddly assorted strangers made off down the street,
the tall one still carrying the black bag with precise care.
Enos reentered his hotel, wagging his head sententiously.
"Suthin' queer about them two fellers," he muttered to himself; "ain't
sellin' nuthin' an' they don't look as if they was on a pleasure trip.
Wa'al, it's none of my business, but if Lem makes a dicker with 'em
he'll hev ter come across to me with a commission, an' that's all I care
about."
Lem Higgins was sitting on the wharf, swinging his legs and regarding
with interest an imminent fight between two dogs of the "yaller"
variety, when the old man and his tall companion came up.
"Your name is Lem Higgins?" asked the old man sharply.
"That's what they usually say when they want me," responded Lem. "Do you
want me?"
"We want your boat."
Lem's eyes lightened. Fishing had been poor, and perhaps here was a
chance to make some easy money. He scrambled to his feet, showing
unusual animation.
"You want my boat? You want ter hire her, you mean?"
"Yes. What's your figure?"
The old man was doing all the talking now. His tall companion stood
silently by. At his side was the black bag, which he had deposited on
the ground with the same curious care that had marked all his dealings
with the mysterious article.
Lem ruminated a minute, looked seaward, ejected a small fountain of
tobacco juice, and then asked, with his head cocked on one side:
"Where might you be a-goin'?"
"Never mind that, my friend. That is none of your business."
The old man spoke sharply. Lem regarded him blankly.
"None o' my business! Then how in Sam Hill am I a-goin' ter run the
boat?"
"You are not going to run it."
"I ain't, eh?"
Lem was all "taken back," as he would have put it. He had been figuring
on a good price for the hire of the boat and a further fee for himself
as skipper. Certainly neither of the pair before him looked capable of
handling a power boat.
"No; if we take your boat we shall run it ourselves."
"You will?"
The astonished Lem gazed at the stooped figure before him. He was almost
bereft of words.
"Yes, I will; does that satisfy you?"
"Wa'al, I'll be plumb dummed," choked out the fisherman; "I should think
you'd know more about crutches an' arm-chairs than about running
gasoline boats."
"Your opinion is not of the slightest interest to me. How much do you
want for the boat?"
"Fer how long?"
"From about sunset till daylight to-morrow."
"Fer all night, you mean?"
"Yes."
"That's a queer time to go out."
"Possibly; but we choose to do it. If you don't want to let your boat,
say so, and have done with it. We'll find another."
"Oh, as far as thet's consarned, ef you kin run her I don't mind ef you
go out any old time. But I'd like ter see ef you kin, afore we go any
further."
"Where is she?"
"Right out there. I'll row you out to her. Come on down this ladder;
easy, now. You're pretty old for this sort of work."
But, despite the old man's apparent decrepitude, he stepped down the
steep and rather rickety ladder, at the foot of which lay a dory, with
the agility of a youth. His companion declared that he would remain on
the dock.
Guessing that he didn't want to leave the bag, of which he seemed so
careful, Lem hailed him.
"Come on and bring your grip, ef ye scared o' leavin' it," he said.
But the other shook his head, and Lem pulled out toward his launch with
only the old man as passenger. The launch was a black, rakish-looking
craft, and once on board the old man expressed approval of the powerful,
two-cylindered engine with which she was equipped.
"Say, you do know suthin' about ingines, don't yer?" admired Lem, after
a few sharp questions had shown him that the queer old man really knew
what he was talking about.
A muttered grunt was the only reply. The old man was spinning the
fly-wheel over, after making a few adjustments of the gasoline and spark
supply. A moment later the motor was sputtering and coughing, and the
launch was struggling at her moorings.
Lem cast off and ran the craft about the harbor for a while. At the
conclusion of the test he was satisfied that the old man actually did
understand the workings of gasoline motors. Returning to the wharf, it
only remained for a bargain to be struck, and this was speedily done.
But Lem still held out for something more.
"Seein' as I don't know you an' you're takin' ther boat out alone, I
ought ter hev a deposit or suthin'," he declared, his eyes narrowing.
"What's your boat worth?" demanded the old man.
"Wa'al, I paid a thousand fer her," rejoined Lem, who had only doubled
the actual sum the launch cost him.
"Here you are."
The old man reached into a recess of his black coat and produced a roll
of currency, which Lem later declared to his cronies would have "choked
a horse." Rapidly peeling off several bills of large denomination, he
paid the exorbitant deposit, plus the price agreed upon for the hire of
the boat for the night. Lem, too astonished to do more than stutter,
pocketed the money without a word.
"One thing more," said the old man; "we shall need a small boat to tow
along."
"Oh, then yer goin' ter land some place?"
Lem, having recovered the use of his voice, had also regained his rural
curiosity.
The old man regarded him angrily, and then, in his peculiar, snarling
voice, he whipped out:
"What's that to you? We've paid you too much for your boat, and you know
it. Here's fifty dollars more. That's not to ask any questions and not
to answer any."
"Oh, I'll keep mum," Lem assured him, pocketing the extra money with
sparkling eyes. "When you're ready to go, I'll have a small boat ready
for you, never fear."
"Good. We'll be here at five o'clock sharp."
The old man and his companion sauntered off up the street. Lem watched
them till they entered the Bellport Hotel. Then, to himself, he
exclaimed in tones that fairly burst out of him:
"Wa'al, what d'ye know about that? Them chaps is either lunatics or
millionaires, or both. Wa'al, it's none of my affair, an' there might be
things I wouldn't do for fifty dollars, but keepin' my mouth shut for a
while ain't one of 'em. What a yarn I'll have ter tell when them two
chaps gets out of town! Kain't get over thet old feller, though. Fer all
his years, he's spry as a boy; suthin' mighty funny about both on 'em."
With this, Lem resumed his seat on the edge of the wharf and dismissed
the matter from his mind as far as was possibly consistent with the
knowledge of the--to him--gigantic sum reposing in his blue jeans.
Yet, had he known it, he was letting slip through his fingers the
possibility of earning a far larger sum. For the man with the queer eyes
was Ivan Karloff, a notorious anarchist, for whom a reward of five
thousand dollars was offered, following a bomb outrage in New York, and
his companion was Berghoff himself.
What were these two men doing in Bellport? Why did they want a fast boat
for a mysterious night trip?
The answers to these questions would have held a burning interest for
our friends on the submarine island. Like a vicious snake, Berghoff was
preparing to strike what he hoped would be a vital blow at the
_Peacemaker_ and her guardians. Crafty and unscrupulous, he had invested
in his services Ivan Karloff, whose price for dangerous undertakings
was high, but whose skill in his nefarious line of endeavor was supreme.
It was about midnight when Lem Higgins' motor boat crept up to a spot
not far from where the _Peacemaker_ lay at anchor. Behind her she towed
the promised small boat. Berghoff, as we must now call the old man, was
at the engines. His companion was steering.
"Is this near enough?" inquired Karloff, in a low tone, as Berghoff
slowed up the engines.
"Yes. We want to run no chances. It would not be pleasant for either of
us to be nipped now."
No more words were exchanged till the anchor was noiselessly let drop.
Then Berghoff spoke.
"Have you got everything?"
"Yes; it's all in the bag--the wire, the batteries, and all. Wonder what
those farmers would have done if they could have guessed what else we
had in there?"
"Gone through the ceiling, I reckon," chuckled Berghoff grimly; "but
come on, let's get to work. We may have a long job to find the
submarine."
"Yes, and we've no time to lose. After the job's done the quicker we put
the Atlantic between us and Uncle Sam, the better," was the reply.
"You're not nervous, are you?"
"Nervous! My friend, I have done more dangerous jobs than this."
Depositing the bag carefully in the small boat, the two men rowed off.
They made absolutely no noise as they proceeded, the reason for this
being that the oars had been carefully muffled soon after they left
Bellport, and felt free from observation.
After ten minutes or so of rowing, Berghoff laid a hand on his
companion's arm.
"What is it?" asked Karloff, who was rowing.
"Look right ahead. What's that?"
"The glow of a light. Can that be it?"
"It must be. That light is reflected from the conning tower. There is
somebody on board."
"That matters not, if they are not on deck. Even so, we can take care of
them."
"You mean to hurl it?"
"Yes; but I'd rather fasten it to the craft itself. It's safer for us
and more effective."
A diabolical grin stole over the anarchist's face as he spoke. He
resumed his cautious rowing.
"There's no one on deck," declared Berghoff, as they crept closer to the
dark outlines of the anchored submarine.
"Good; then we can do our work quickly. Have you everything ready?"
"Yes; we'll be alongside in a minute. Don't make a failure of it."
"I have never failed yet," was the quiet reply, spoken in a voice so
menacing and evil that it would have caused a shudder to run through any
one less hardened than the man to whom it was addressed.
Rob flashed to the surface after a longer interval than Merritt would
have believed it possible for anybody to remain submerged. As he
appeared, Merritt rushed to aid him upon the slippery deck of the
_Peacemaker_.
Rob shook his head, as Merritt tried to draw him up. Instead, he choked
out:
"A pair of pliers. Quick! Our lives depend upon it."
Merritt, who had been working on the engine, happened to have the
required tool in his pocket. Without a word, he handed it to Rob. From
his leader's manner he knew that down there under the water the boy had
discovered some deadly hidden peril. Breathlessly, he watched for his
reappearance, for the instant he received the pliers Rob had dived.
* * * * *
In the rowboat which they had towed out from Bellport, Berghoff and his
companion sat bending over some object. Had it been daylight it could
have been seen that this object was a battery box.
Also, daylight would have revealed Berghoff's face as being white and
drawn under his disguise; but his companion's evil countenance never
changed an iota, as his long fingers sought and found the button of the
battery box which lay before him on a thwart.
From this box two wires led off into the darkness. When the button was
pressed a flash of electricity would pass through those wires and the
climax of a fiendishly ingenious plot would be reached. In the tense
silence that preceded the pressing of the button, Berghoff's breath
could be heard coming gaspingly. His companion, on the other hand,
appeared as cool as an icicle.
"Are you certain we are far enough away?" stammered Berghoff.
"Absolutely. I have no desire to be hoisted by my own petard. Now then,
if you are ready, say the word."
"I--I----" stammered Berghoff.
"Bah! You are a coward; come, I am all ready."
"I don't mind the submarine, curse it; but it's the thought of the lives
on board her."
"My friend, you are too sensitive. Come, are you ready?"
"Ye-es," choked out Berghoff, his teeth chattering, and the sweat
pouring off his face. The man was shaking like a leaf, and his breath
came raspingly from between his half-opened lips.
"Now!"
He steeled himself to utter the signal firmly, but it was merely a harsh
whisper that issued from his dry throat.
The long fingers pressed down. Berghoff, swaying like a stricken thing,
placed his hands before his eyes. But the sound that both had been
expecting did not come. No roaring explosion followed the pressing of
the button, no flash of livid flame and shattering of the wonderful
structure of steel they had hoped to destroy. A death-like stillness
prevailed.
"You've failed!" choked out Berghoff.
His companion's eyes flashed in the darkness like a cat's. He swallowed
convulsively.
"There is only one explanation," he snarled.
"And that is?"
"That they have discovered the mine. My friend, we had better be leaving
as soon as possible. It will not be good for us to be found in this
vicinity."
At that very moment two boys were standing with horror-stricken eyes on
the deck of the submarine. In his hands Rob held a peculiar looking
cylinder of steel. From one end of it hung two severed wires. It was so
weighted and balanced as to float a distance of about five feet under
the surface of the water.
"If I hadn't found those wires and cut them," Rob said, in an
awe-stricken voice.
But Merritt did not answer. He could only clasp his companion's hand.
The realization of the fearfully narrow limit by which they had escaped
death almost overcame him. The night was hot, but both boys shivered as
if stricken with the ague. It was some minutes before they could give
the alarm to those on shore. Then the rapid blowing of the whistle used
by the submarine when on the surface signalled their companions.
Some fifteen minutes later two pale-faced, wild-eyed lads were
explaining to an absorbed group the foiling of the diabolical plot
against Uncle Sam's diving boat. It was not long after, that the
submarine was rushing through the water for the nearest harbor.
"If we can arouse the police along the coast we may yet be able to
capture the authors of this outrage," exclaimed the ensign, as at full
speed the _Peacemaker_ clove through the waters.
"Yes; it's hardly probable that they had as swift a boat as this,"
agreed Mr. Barr. "If we can get ashore ahead of them, we can cause a
police net to be spread that they can scarcely break through."
But it was decreed that the fate of Berghoff and his companion should be
a different one. Suddenly, off to port of the _Peacemaker_, the night
was split by a roar and a red flash of flame.
"Great Scott! What was that?" gasped out Ensign Hargreaves.
"The searchlight--quick!" cried Mr. Barr.
In an instant the great beam of white light was cutting the night like a
fiery sword. Suddenly its rays concentrated on a dark object not far
distant from the _Peacemaker_.
Within the radiant circle was limned a strange picture. Two men were
struggling in the water, while beside them the outline of a boat showed
for an instant and then vanished forever.
At top speed the _Peacemaker_ was rushed to the scene. She reached it in
time for those on board to see one of the two men struggling in the
water throw up his arms. The next instant, with a shuddering cry, that
might have been either defiance or agony, he vanished as had the boat.
The other man was picked up. He was an old man, seemingly, and almost
exhausted from his struggle with the waves. But, as he was being dragged
on board, a strange thing occurred. The salt water, with which he was
drenched, had likewise soaked his beard and hair. As he was hauled over
the sloping deck of the submarine his beard and hair slipped away, and
there before them lay Berghoff, seemingly dead or dying.
As soon as they had recovered from their amazement, he was carried below
and made as comfortable as possible; for it was found that he was
shockingly burned. The chart was consulted, and it was reckoned that
Bellport was the closest place at which to land. And so it came about,
that Berghoff--or the wreck of the man--was brought back to the very
spot from which he and his ill-fated companion had set out on their
diabolical trip.
Under close police guard the injured man was carried to the local
hospital, and with his first conscious breath he cried aloud for
Karloff. He was told of the man's fate, and then made a full confession
of the plot to blow up the submarine. As for the accident that had
destroyed their own craft, he explained that Karloff, stooping to light
a cigarette, had ignited some leaked gasoline in the bilge. In a flash
the flames had reached the fuel tank, and an explosion that ripped the
boat apart followed.
For days the man lingered in the hospital, apparently contrite and
suffering great pain. But one night a drowsy nurse and an open window
aided him in a plan of escape that must have formed itself in his mind
some time before. In a weak voice he begged his police guard to get him
a drink of water. When the man came back, Berghoff had gone. Nor was he
ever heard of again. Whether he managed in some way to communicate with
his friends, or whether he gained financial resources to aid his escape
by robbery or other means, will never be known.
"Wa'al, I'm glad I stuck to that thousand," said Lem Higgins, when he
heard of the escape. "I'll git another boat now."
* * * * *
And so ends the tale of the Boy Scouts' services for Uncle Sam. Of
course, they remained on the island till the conclusion of the tests.
But they were molested no more, and so far as they were concerned
Berghoff and his evil designs ceased to exist. Their experiences had
proved of much value to them, and broadened and developed their
characters to a marked extent.
We shall meet our friends and fellow Scouts again in a succeeding volume
of this series, for strong, healthy lads like these cannot seem to help
meeting with adventures. When they face them in the true Scout spirit,
that of bravery mixed with brains, it is a combination hard to beat.
This new volume will be called "THE BOY SCOUTS AT THE PANAMA CANAL," and
will relate their experiences at the "Big Ditch," that remarkable
engineering achievement that is holding the interest and attention of
the entire world. The book will contain authentic photographs of the
canal in process of construction and include accurate descriptions of
the engineering feats.
THE END.
The Boy Scout Series
BY HERBERT CARTER
[Illustration: The BOY SCOUTS' FIRST CAMPFIRE]
* * * * *
For Boys 12 to 16 Years
All Cloth Bound Copyright Titles
PRICE, 50 CENTS EACH
Postage 10c Extra
New Stories of Camp Life
* * * * *
THE BOY SCOUTS' FIRST CAMPFIRE; or, Scouting with
the Silver Fox Patrol.
THE BOY SCOUTS IN THE BLUE RIDGE; or, Marooned
Among the Moonshiners.
THE BOY SCOUTS ON THE TRAIL; or, Scouting through
the Big Game Country.
THE BOY SCOUTS IN THE MAINE WOODS; or, The New
Test for the Silver Fox Patrol.
THE BOY SCOUTS THROUGH THE BIG TIMBER; or, The
Search for the Lost Tenderfoot.
THE BOY SCOUTS IN THE ROCKIES; or, The Secret of
the Hidden Silver Mine.
THE BOY SCOUTS ON STURGEON ISLAND; or, Marooned
Among the Game-Fish Poachers.
THE BOY SCOUTS DOWN IN DIXIE; or, The Strange
Secret of Alligator Swamp.
THE BOY SCOUTS AT THE BATTLE OF SARATOGA; A story
of Burgoyne's Defeat in 1777.
THE BOY SCOUTS ALONG THE SUSQUEHANNA; or, The
Silver Fox Patrol Caught in a Flood.
THE BOY SCOUTS ON WAR TRAILS IN BELGIUM; or,
Caught Between Hostile Armies.
THE BOY SCOUTS AFOOT IN FRANCE; or, With The Red
Cross Corps at the Marne.
* * * * *
For sale by all booksellers, or sent on receipt of price by
the Publishers
A. L. BURT COMPANY, 114-120 E. 23d St., NEW YORK
The Boy Allies
(Registered in the United States
Patent Office)
With the Army
BY CLAIR W. HAYES
[Illustration: THE BOY ALLIES IN GREAT PERU]
* * * * *
For Boys 12 to 16 Years.
All Cloth Bound Copyright Titles
PRICE, 50 CENTS EACH
Postage 10c extra.
In this series we follow the fortunes of two American lads unable to
leave Europe after war is declared. They meet the soldiers of the
Allies, and decide to cast their lot with them. Their experiences and
escapes are many, and furnish plenty of good, healthy action that every
boy loves.
THE BOY ALLIES AT LIEGE; or, Through Lines of
Steel.
THE BOY ALLIES ON THE FIRING LINE; or, Twelve Days
Battle Along the Marne.
THE BOY ALLIES WITH THE COSSACKS; or, A Wild Dash
Over the Carpathians.
THE BOY ALLIES IN THE TRENCHES; or, Midst Shot and
Shell Along the Aisne.
THE BOY ALLIES IN GREAT PERIL; or, With the
Italian Army in the Alps.
THE BOY ALLIES IN THE BALKAN CAMPAIGN; or, The
Struggle to Save a Nation.
THE BOY ALLIES ON THE SOMME; or, Courage and
Bravery Rewarded.
THE BOY ALLIES AT VERDUN; or, Saving France from
the Enemy.
THE BOY ALLIES UNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES; or,
Leading the American Troops to the Firing Line.
THE BOY ALLIES WITH HAIG IN FLANDERS; or, The
Fighting Canadians of Vimy Ridge.
THE BOY ALLIES WITH PERSHING IN FRANCE; or, Over
the Top at Chateau Thierry.
THE BOY ALLIES WITH MARSHAL FOCH; or, The Closing
Days of the Great World War.
* * * * *
For sale by all booksellers, or sent on receipt of price by
the Publishers
A. L. BURT COMPANY, 114-120 E. 23d St., NEW YORK
The Boy Allies
(Registered in the United States
Patent Office)
With the Navy
BY
ENSIGN ROBERT L. DRAKE
[Illustration: THE BOY ALLIES ON THE NORTH SEA PATROL]
* * * * *
For Boys 12 to 16 Years.
All Cloth Bound Copyright Titles
PRICE, 50 CENTS EACH
Postage 10c Extra
Frank Chadwick and Jack Templeton, young American lads, meet each other
in an unusual way soon after the declaration of war. Circumstances place
them on board the British cruiser, "The Sylph," and from there on, they
share adventures with the sailors of the Allies. Ensign Robert L. Drake,
the author, is an experienced naval officer, and he describes admirably
the many exciting adventures of the two boys.
THE BOY ALLIES ON THE NORTH SEA PATROL; or,
Striking the First Blow at the German Fleet.
THE BOY ALLIES UNDER TWO FLAGS; or, Sweeping the
Enemy from the Sea.
THE BOY ALLIES WITH THE FLYING SQUADRON; or, The
Naval Raiders of the Great War.
THE BOY ALLIES WITH THE TERROR OF THE SEA; or, The
Last Shot of Submarine D-16.
THE BOY ALLIES UNDER THE SEA; or, The Vanishing
Submarine.
THE BOY ALLIES IN THE BALTIC; or, Through Fields
of Ice to Aid the Czar.
THE BOY ALLIES AT JUTLAND; or, The Greatest Naval
Battle of History.
THE BOY ALLIES WITH UNCLE SAM'S CRUISERS; or,
Convoying the American Army Across the Atlantic.
THE BOY ALLIES WITH THE SUBMARINE D-32; or, The
Fall of the Russian Empire.
THE BOY ALLIES WITH THE VICTORIOUS FLEETS; or, The
Fall of the German Navy.
* * * * *
For sale by all booksellers, or sent on receipt of price by
the Publishers
A. L. BURT COMPANY, 114-120 E. 23d St., NEW YORK
The Golden Boys Series
BY L. P. WYMAN, PH.D.
Dean of Pennsylvania Military College.
[Illustration: The GOLDEN BOYS IN THE MAIN WOODS]
A new series of instructive copyright stories for boys of High School
Age.
Handsome Cloth Binding.
PRICE, 50 CENTS EACH
POSTAGE 10c EXTRA
THE GOLDEN BOYS AND THEIR NEW ELECTRIC CELL
THE GOLDEN BOYS AT THE FORTRESS
THE GOLDEN BOYS IN THE MAINE WOODS
THE GOLDEN BOYS WITH THE LUMBER JACKS
THE GOLDEN BOYS RESCUED BY RADIO
THE GOLDEN BOYS ALONG THE RIVER ALLAGASH
THE GOLDEN BOYS AT THE HAUNTED CAMP
THE GOLDEN BOYS ON THE RIVER DRIVE
THE GOLDEN BOYS SAVE THE CHAMBERLAIN DAM
THE GOLDEN BOYS ON THE TRAIL
* * * * *
For sale by all booksellers, or sent on receipt of price by
the Publishers
A. L. BURT COMPANY, 114-120 E. 23d St., NEW YORK