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[Illustration: Starry Flag Series
Oliver Optic]
[Illustration: ERNEST SWIMS FOR THE DESPATCH BARREL.--Page 270]
SEEK AND FIND;
OR,
THE ADVENTURES OF A SMART BOY.
BY
OLIVER OPTIC,
AUTHOR OF "YOUNG AMERICA ABROAD," "THE ARMY AND NAVY STORIES,"
"THE WOODVILLE STORIES," "THE BOAT-CLUB STORIES,"
"THE RIVERDALE STORIES," ETC.
BOSTON
LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by
WILLIAM T. ADAMS,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District
of Massachusetts.
COPYRIGHT, 1895, BY WILLIAM T. ADAMS.
_All rights reserved._
SEEK AND FIND.
=TO=
My Young Friend,
_ALICE LEE GOOKIN_,
=This Book=
IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.
PREFACE.
"SEEK AND FIND" is the third of the serial stories published in "OUR
BOYS AND GIRLS," where it appeared as the sequel of "BREAKING AWAY." The
author had no more reason to complain of its reception than of that
accorded to its predecessors; and he returns his sincere thanks to all
those young friends who have written hundreds of letters to him,
containing the most generous commendation, with an occasional criticism,
which was by no means unwelcome.
Ernest Thornton is a smart boy--perhaps he is too smart; but his
smartness is not worldly cunning; it is made up of those elements of
character which constitute a noble and true man--good judgment, quick
perception, and manly decision, mingled with those moral and religious
attributes which are the leading springs of the true life. If some of
the hero's actions are doubtful, his motives are always good. The
greatest crime against the moral law is to be without a high aim; and
while a thousand errors and short-comings may be forgiven, the want of a
good intention is the capital sin which may not be pardoned. While we
cannot ask or expect all young men to accomplish what Ernest Thornton
did, we may point to his high aims and good intentions, and say to the
reader, "Go thou and do likewise."
HARRISON SQUARE, MASS.,
November 29, 1867.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. PAGE
IN WHICH ERNEST THORNTON BECOMES ACQUAINTED WITH MISS
KATE LORAINE 11
CHAPTER II.
IN WHICH ERNEST LISTENS TO THE STORY OF MISS KATE LORAINE 22
CHAPTER III.
IN WHICH ERNEST CALLS UPON MRS. LORAINE 33
CHAPTER IV.
IN WHICH ERNEST RELEASES THE CAPTIVE MAIDEN FROM HER
PRISON 44
CHAPTER V.
IN WHICH ERNEST IS AWAKENED BY A LOUD KNOCKING 56
CHAPTER VI.
IN WHICH ERNEST GETS AN IDEA 67
CHAPTER VII.
IN WHICH ERNEST HAS AN INTERVIEW WITH MR. TOM THORNTON 78
CHAPTER VIII.
IN WHICH ERNEST VISITS HIS UNCLE'S LIBRARY 89
CHAPTER IX.
IN WHICH ERNEST, AFTER A SUCCESSFUL RETREAT, FALLS
INTO A TRAP 100
CHAPTER X.
IN WHICH ERNEST STRIKES A HEAVY BLOW FOR LIBERTY 111
CHAPTER XI.
IN WHICH ERNEST MAKES GOOD HIS RETREAT FROM THE COTTAGE 122
CHAPTER XII.
IN WHICH ERNEST OBTAINS SOME VALUABLE LETTERS 132
CHAPTER XIII.
IN WHICH ERNEST LEAVES PARKVILLE, AND TAKES THE
TRAIN FOR THE EASTWARD 144
CHAPTER XIV.
IN WHICH ERNEST WONDERS WHAT TOM THORNTON WILL DO,
AND FINDS OUT 155
CHAPTER XV.
IN WHICH ERNEST FACES THE ENEMY 166
CHAPTER XVI.
IN WHICH ERNEST MAKES A LANDING ON THE HUDSON 177
CHAPTER XVII.
IN WHICH ERNEST OUTFLANKS TOM THORNTON 189
CHAPTER XVIII.
IN WHICH ERNEST CALLS ON SEVERAL LORAINES 200
CHAPTER XIX.
IN WHICH ERNEST STARTS FOR MADISON PLACE WITH KATE 211
CHAPTER XX.
IN WHICH ERNEST STRIKES A HEAVY BLOW, AND TOM THORNTON
HAS A BAD FALL 221
CHAPTER XXI.
IN WHICH ERNEST VISITS MADISON PLACE 232
CHAPTER XXII.
IN WHICH ERNEST MAKES THE ACQUAINTANCE OF E. DUNKSWELL 243
CHAPTER XXIII.
IN WHICH ERNEST FINDS THAT E. DUNKSWELL IS A DISAGREEABLE
ROOM-MATE 254
CHAPTER XXIV.
IN WHICH ERNEST LANDS AT CROOKHAVEN, AND PROCEEDS TO LONDON 265
CHAPTER XXV.
IN WHICH ERNEST VISITS STONY STRATFORD, AND E. DUNKSWELL
COMES TO GRIEF 276
CHAPTER XXVI.
IN WHICH ERNEST RETURNS TO PARKVILLE WITH HIS MOTHER,
AND THE STORY ENDS ON THE SHORES OF LAKE ADIENO 289
SEEK AND FIND;
OR,
THE ADVENTURES OF A SMART BOY.
CHAPTER I.
IN WHICH ERNEST THORNTON BECOMES ACQUAINTED WITH MISS KATE LORAINE.
"WE are getting a capital breeze over here," said my friend Bob Hale,
who was seated at my side in the Splash.
"There is always plenty of wind over here when it comes from the
north-west," I replied.
It was one of the last days of May, and the weather, which had been
chilly and disagreeable during the preceding week, was warm and
pleasant. I had been to school, as usual, in my boat, and was taking Bob
out for a sail, intending to land him at Parkville before dark, and
return to the cottage of my uncle beyond the town. I had made one long
stretch with the wind on the beam, nearly over to Cannondale; in fact,
the water was beginning to shoal off the point half a mile to the
northward and eastward of that town.
Along the shore of the lake for two or three miles, on each side of
Cannondale, were many beautiful residences, occupied by wealthy people,
who were attracted to the locality by the pleasant but not picturesque
scenery. It was a delightful region for a summer sojourn, though many of
the people were permanent residents.
"Well, Bob, we must come about or get aground," I continued. "Where
shall we go now?"
"Anywhere you please, Ernest. I enjoy sailing wherever you go, though I
like running along the shore, where you can enjoy these fine gardens,
and occasionally look in upon a pleasant party, especially if they
happen to be singing, or playing a lively game."
"That's just my idea; and we will follow the shore round to Parkville.
The wind will favor us all the way."
I put the Splash about, and with the wind on the quarter, laid a course
which kept the boat within a few rods of the shore. From the beach in
the rear of many of the houses, little piers, not more than three or
four feet wide, were extended into the lake, for the convenience of
embarking and landing in the boats, with which nearly every dwelling was
supplied. We were approaching one of these piers belonging to the first
house beyond the Point, when Bob and myself were startled by a shrill
scream, which caused both of us to spring to our feet.
"What does that mean?" demanded Bob.
"I don't know. I can't see anything," I replied.
"Is it somebody overboard?"
"I don't see any one. It came from the garden beyond that first pier."
"There it is again," said Bob, greatly excited, as the scream was
repeated.
We were not long left in doubt in regard to the person who had uttered
the cry; for a girl immediately emerged from the foliage of the garden,
and ran down to the end of the pier, where she paused and looked
timorously behind her. We looked anxiously for the cause of her terror,
almost expecting to see a bear, a wolf, or at least a savage dog, in
pursuit of the hapless maiden. The young lady was nicely dressed, and
seemed to be fourteen years of age. Of course Bob and I were both
willing "to do or die" in her defence, though we were just then rather
too far off to be of instant service to her, even if any savage beast
had assailed her.
"What's the matter with her?" said Bob; "she appears to be frightened
out of her wits."
"I don't see anything to alarm her."
"Nor I."
But then the young lady screamed again, and we saw a lady rushing out to
the place where the girl was, at the end of the pier. The latter seemed
to be fearfully agitated; and giving one more agonizing cry, she leaped
into the lake, just as the lady was on the point of seizing her by the
arm.
Bob and I were thrilled to the depths of our being by this exciting
scene. I had already put the helm up, and the Splash was headed directly
towards the young lady, who was struggling in the water. The wind
carried her away from the pier about twenty feet, when the Splash
reached the place, and I ran her between the girl and the shore.
"Save her! save her!" cried the lady on the pier.
[Illustration: THE EXCITING SCENE ON THE SOUTH SHORE.--Page 14.]
"Take the helm, Bob," shouted I, throwing the boat round into the wind,
and springing upon the half deck.
I was prepared to jump overboard, if it was necessary; but it was not. I
had seized the short boat-hook as I went forward, and with it I hooked
on to her dress. Drawing her towards the boat, I seized her by the arm,
and lifted her on board. She had been in the water but a few moments,
and had not lost her consciousness; indeed, she appeared not to have
suffered at all from her bath. I at once concluded that she was one of
the young ladies whom I had frequently seen bathing on the beach, and
that the water had no terrors to her. I had not seen her swim, though
the water was over her head.
I placed her on one of the seats as soon as I had pulled her out of the
water, expecting her to faint, or do some other womanish thing. She
brushed the water from her eyes, and bending down so that she could look
under the foresail, she caught a glimpse of the lady on the pier.
"Take me away from here--O, do!" said she, bestowing a pleading look
upon me.
"Where shall I land you?" I asked, in gentle tones.
"Anywhere but here--don't leave me here," she replied, earnestly, and
hardly less agitated than when she had leaped into the lake.
"But you are wet through, and you may take cold," I suggested, mildly.
"I don't care if I do. It makes no difference. Take me away from here."
"Where shall I land you?" I asked again, puzzled by her singular
conduct.
"I don't care where; but if you land me here I shall jump into the lake
again."
Bob Hale had put the helm up, and the Splash had filled away again on
her former course, which was bearing us away from the pier on which the
lady still stood.
"Shall I come about?" asked he, apparently satisfied that the only thing
we could do was to land the young lady on the pier.
"Not just yet, Bob," I replied, fearful that a change of our course
would increase her agitation.
"I am very much obliged to you for what you have done for me," said the
dripping maiden, who paid not the slightest attention to the condition
of her clothing, and was wholly absorbed in her own thoughts, which
were painful enough to give her face an expression of agony. "I hope you
will not think I am ungrateful, Ernest Thornton."
"I do not think so," I replied, astonished to find she knew my name.
"And I shall be ever so much more grateful to you if you will take me
away from this place," she added, with a beseeching look.
"I really don't know what to do. You called me by name, just now, but I
do not remember to have seen you before."
"Perhaps you have not; but I have seen your boat so often that I feel
acquainted with you."
"May I ask you to tell me your name?"
"I will tell you, but you will not know me any better. It is Kate
Loraine," she replied, more calmly than she had yet spoken.
I was certainly no wiser for what she told me, though I knew that
Loraine was the name of the people who lived in the house nearest to the
Point.
"Who is the lady on the pier?" I asked.
"Mrs. Loraine," answered she, with a visible shudder; though I could
not tell whether it was caused by the mention of the lady's name, or by
the cold chill of her wet condition.
"Is she your mother?" I continued; and it seemed to me that her answer
to this question would enable me to decide whether or not to land her on
the pier.
"No, no!" replied she, with the most decisive emphasis.
"But your names are the same."
"They are; of course she has my father's name."
I could not see why that followed, but I did not like to carry my
questions to the point of impudence.
"Is your father at home?"
"My father is dead," she answered, in a very sad tone.
"Excuse me if I ask who the lady is that stands on the pier."
"Mrs. Loraine."
"And not your mother?"
"No!"
"You seemed to be running away from her when I heard you screaming."
"I was; she was trying to catch me."
Perhaps Miss Kate Loraine thought I was very obtuse, but I could not
understand the relation between the parties, and I had not the faintest
idea why she was running away from Mrs. Loraine. I was not willing to
believe that a young miss like her intended to resort to such a
desperate remedy as suicide for any real or imaginary sufferings.
"What shall we do, Bob?" I asked, turning to my companion, completely
nonplussed by the circumstances.
"I don't know what to do. It seems to me we ought to return the young
lady to her friends," replied he.
"I have no friends," interposed Kate, and the tears started in her eyes;
"at least I have none in Cannondale."
"Don't you live at Mrs. Loraine's?" asked Bob.
"Yes; but I shall live there no longer."
"You say she is not your mother?" I added, returning to the point I had
twice left.
"She was my father's wife, but she is not my mother."
"She is your step-mother," I continued, as the light flooded my dull
brain.
"She is; I do not wish to speak ill of her, but I do wish to keep away
from her. She is not kind to me, to say the very least."
I pitied her, and I saw by Bob's looks that he was not at all behind me
in the outflow of his sympathy. I had read stories enough about "awful
step-mothers" to form an idea of Kate's situation, though I had no
prejudices against step-mothers, as such. Bob Hale's father had married
a second wife, but Bob and his sister would never have known from her
treatment of them, that she was not their own mother.
If Kate was not a very pretty girl, she was certainly a very interesting
one. Her form was grace itself, but her eyes were all that was pretty
about her face; and when I looked at her I was not willing to believe it
possible that any one, and especially one bearing her father's name,
could ill-treat her.
By this time the boat had gone to the farther corner of the lake, and it
was necessary to brace her up or come about. I went aft to take the
helm, and Kate followed me, taking a seat at my side. I put the tiller
hard down, and the Splash came about, heading towards Cannondale. Our
passenger was quick to discern the course, and became quite excited
again.
"You are taking me home again!" exclaimed she. "O, Ernest Thornton! you
will not do that. Let me land here, anywhere, even on that island, but
do not give me back to her."
"I don't know what to do, Miss Loraine; but I think you ought to have
dry clothes at once."
"Have pity upon me, and do not take me home," pleaded she.
She was so agitated that I became alarmed; and to pacify her, I came
about again, and steered for Parkville.