CHAPTER XXIV.

CONCLUSION.

The merchant was the first to recover his self-possession.

"I have not the pleasure of knowing you, sir," he said to Major Woodley.

"My name is Woodley," said the latter. "I was a friend of this boy's

father," and he laid his hand on the shoulder of Robert.

"May I ask how you fell in with him? I confess I am puzzled at his

unexpected appearance, having just received intelligence from this

person (indicating Cromwell) that he had disappeared."

"May I ask, as his father's friend, why you should have committed Robert

to the care of a man, who is, to say the least, wholly unfitted by

education or experience, to have the charge of him?"

"I do not choose to be called to account," said Mr. Morton, haughtily.

"His father made me his guardian, and confided in my judgment."

"Then, sir, you should have shown yourself worthy of the confidence he

reposed in you," said Major Woodley.

"Sir, you assume an extraordinary tone," said Paul Morton, angrily.

"Are you aware of the manner in which the boy has been treated by the

person to whom you committed him?"

"Yes, I presume so. You perhaps have credited the boy's story, which

probably is wholly unreliable. Of course, I don't know what he has told

you."

"Then, sir, I have to inform you that it is only by a miracle that the

boy stands here to-day in health. This wretch made two distinct attempts

to murder him!" and he pointed his finger at James Cromwell.

"Impossible!" exclaimed Paul Morton, nervously.

"It is not only possible, but true. On the first occasion he attempted

to hurl him over Niagara Falls, but the boy's quick grasp saved him from

the fearful fate."

"I cannot believe this," muttered Mr. Morton.

"On the second occasion he seized him unawares while both were in a boat

on a pond, and threw him into the water to drown. Fortunately, he was

rescued by one who witnessed the attempt."

"These are fables," said Paul Morton. "The boy has grossly deceived

you."

"We can send for evidence, if necessary," said Major Woodley, coolly,

"but that will hardly be necessary. If you look at that man's face, you

will read upon it the proof that the story is no invention, and is the

literal truth."

He pointed to Cromwell, who was livid with terror, and stricken with the

confusion of conscious guilt. He staggered to his feet, and in his wild

terror attempted to rush out of the apartment.

In this he was unsuccessful. Woodley coolly stepped in front of him, and

said, "Not so fast, Mr. Cromwell. We cannot dispense with you yet."

Cromwell glanced at the stalwart figure of the Major, and saw that

resistance would be useless. Hoping to make better terms for himself, he

said, "Promise not to harm me, and I will tell you all."

"Are you mad?" said Paul Morton, sharply, filled with terror lest his

confederate should betray him. "Do you never plead guilty to this

atrocious charge!"

"Why should he not, if he is guilty?" demanded Major Woodley. "It

appears that you desire to shield him."

Paul Morton saw his imprudence, and determined to adopt a different

course.

"If he is guilty, I do not wish to shield him. But I thought you meant

to terrify him into confessing what was not true."

"There is no need of that. We can prove the charge on the testimony of

the boy, and the man who witnessed the attempt to drown him. I will not

engage to screen him from punishment, but if he confesses it, he will

stand a better chance of mercy."

"Then," said Cromwell, clutching at this promise, "I will tell you all.

I did try to drown the boy."

"And what could have been your motive for such a dastardly deed?"

"Mr. Morton promised me ten thousand dollars when the boy was dead."

"It's a lie!" ejaculated Paul Morton, hoarsely. "He has told an

atrocious falsehood!"

But, though he spoke thus, his face became livid and the truth was

patent in his look.

"Can this be true?" demanded Major Woodley, shocked and startled, "What

motive could Mr. Morton have for conniving at such a crime? How would

the boy's death benefit him?"

"Read his father's will, and you will know," said Cromwell. "At the

boy's death the whole property goes to Mr. Morton."

"Is this true, Mr. Morton?" said Major Woodley, sternly.

"So much is true, but the other is a base lie," said the merchant.

"I could wish it were so. What evidence can you give of the truth of

your statement? Have you the offer in writing?"

"No, he was too careful to write it, but he hinted at it in terms which

only I could understand."

"He is a miserable liar," said the merchant.

"I can hardly believe him capable of such atrocity."

"You cannot?" said Cromwell, glancing at Paul Morton, spitefully. "Then

I will tell you what he is capable of. I accuse him of poisoning the

boy's father."

"Good heavens! are you mad?" exclaimed Major Woodley, starting.

"I am perfectly aware of what I am saying, and I can prove it. He bought

the poison of me, at a time when I was employed in a drug store on the

Bowery. It was a slow poison which accomplished its work without leaving

any perceptible traces."

Robert listened to the revelations with pale face, horror-stricken, and

for a moment no word was spoken.

"Mr. Morton," said Major Woodley, "this is an extraordinary charge,

which, whether you are innocent or guilty, must be investigated. I

brought a policeman here with the view of arresting this man Cromwell,

but I feel it is my duty to direct your arrest also." As he spoke, he

opened the door communicating with the hall, and a policeman entered.

"Arrest these two men," he said.

Paul Morton's face wore the look of one brought to bay, and he

exclaimed, "Never will I submit to the indignity. Here is one means of

escape."

He pulled a drawer beside him open, and drew forth a revolver.

"I must die," he said, "but I will not die alone."

As he spoke he pointed the revolver at Cromwell, and there was a sharp

report.

The unhappy druggist bounded from his chair with a shrill cry, then

sank lifeless on the carpet, the life-blood welling from his heart.

There was a cry of horror from all who witnessed the tragic scene.

Major Woodley sprang forward to seize the revolver, but too late. Paul

Morton turned it, and pressing it to his forehead, drew the trigger.

There was another report, and he fell forward, his brains being

scattered over the floor.

"This is most terrible!" exclaimed Major Woodley, in a tone of horror.

"May it never be my lot to be witness to such a scene again!"

Robert, over-excited by the revelation of his father's fate, and the

horrible scene which had been enacted before him, fainted.

Major Woodley raised him gently, and carried him from the room.

"I leave you in charge, sir," he said to the policeman. "It is fortunate

that you were a witness to what has occurred."

The tragical end of Paul Morton was a nine-days' wonder in the city, and

then some other startling event surpassed it in the popular thought. It

was found on examination of the late merchant's affairs that his ward's

fortune was intact. This would not have been the case, but that his own

affairs had taken a fortunate turn, and he had redeemed his losses by a

fortunate rise in some securities which had been for a while depressed,

and had at last advanced rapidly in price.

Robert Raymond selected Major Woodley as his guardian, and was fortunate

in doing so, for the Major was a man of the utmost probity, and of

excellent judgment in business affairs. He was at once returned to his

former school, where he continued his studies. In due time he entered

college, where he acquitted himself with credit. On his graduation he

went to Europe, where he traveled for two years. Returning last year, he

found that he had wholly mistaken the feeling which he supposed he

entertained toward the fair Edith. He was no longer willing to look upon

her as a sister, but aspired to a nearer relation. Major Woodley was not

slow in giving his sanction to a suit which received his entire

approbation, and the wedding took place.

In a beautiful country seat on the Hudson, Robert Raymond lives with his

fair young wife. They are happy in each other and in the gifts of

fortune. Long may they remain so!

The reader may be interested to learn that Clara Manton has not yet

found a husband, nor does she desire it. Her father's death put her in

possession of his property, and she prefers to maintain a selfish

independence to risking her money in a husband's charge. Cato was

handsomely rewarded for the signal service he had rendered our young

hero, and was made comfortable for life.

WHITE-FACED DICK.

A STORY OF PINE-TREE GULCH.

How Pine-tree Gulch got its name no one knew, for in the early days

every ravine and hillside was thickly covered with pines. It may be that

a tree of exceptional size caught the eye of the first explorer, that he

camped under it, and named the place in its honor; or, may be, some

fallen giant lay in the bottom and hindered the work of the first

prospectors. At any rate, Pine-tree Gulch it was, and the name was as

good as any other. The pine-trees were gone now. Cut up for firing, or

for the erection of huts, or the construction of sluices, but the

hillside was ragged with their stumps.

The principal camp was at the mouth of the Gulch, where the little

stream, which scarce afforded water sufficient for the cradles in the

dry season, but which was a rushing torrent in winter, joined the Yuba.

The best ground was at the junction of the streams, and lay, indeed, in

the Yuba valley rather than in the Gulch. At first most gold had been

found higher up, but there was here comparatively little depth down to

the bed-rock, and as the ground became exhausted the miners moved down

towards the mouth of the Gulch. They were doing well as a whole, how

well no one knew, for miners are chary of giving information as to what

they are making; still, it was certain they were doing well, for the

bars were doing a roaring trade, and the store-keepers never refused

credit--a proof in itself that the prospects were good.

The flat at the mouth of the Gulch was a busy scene, every foot was good

paying stuff, for in the eddy, where the torrents in winter rushed down

into the Yuba, the gold had settled down and lay thick among the gravel.

But most of the parties were sinking, and it was a long way down to the

bed-rock; for the hills on both sides sloped steeply, and the Yuba must

here at one time have rushed through a narrow gorge, until, in some wild

freak, it brought down millions of tons of gravel, and resumed its

course seventy feet above its former level.

A quarter of a mile higher up a ledge of rock ran across the valley, and

over it in the old time the Yuba had poured in a cascade seventy feet

deep into the ravine. But the rock now was level with the gravel, only

showing its jagged points here and there above it. This ledge had been

invaluable to the diggers: without it they could only have sunk their

shafts with the greatest difficulty, for the gravel would have been full

of water, and even with the greatest pains in puddling and timber-work

the pumps would scarcely have sufficed to keep it down as it rose in the

bottom of the shafts. But the miners had made common cause together, and

giving each so many ounces of gold or so many days' work had erected a

dam thirty feet high along the ledge of rock, and had cut a channel for

the Yuba along the lower slopes of the valley. Of course, when the rain

set in, as everybody knew, the dam would go, and the river diggings must

be abandoned till the water subsided and a fresh dam was made; but there

were two months before them yet, and every one hoped to be down to the

bed-rock before the water interrupted their work.

The hillside, both in the Yuba Valley and for some distance along

Pine-tree Gulch, was dotted by shanties and tents; the former

constructed for the most part of logs roughly squared, the walls being

some three feet in height, on which the sharp sloping roof was placed,

thatched in the first place with boughs, and made all snug, perhaps,

with an old sail stretched over all. The camp was quiet enough during

the day. The few women were away with their washing at the pools, a

quarter of a mile up the Gulch, and the only persons to be seen about

were the men told off for cooking for their respective parties.

But in the evening the camp was lively. Groups of men in red shirts and

corded trousers tied at the knee, in high boots, sat round blazing

fires, and talked of their prospects or discussed the news of the luck

at other camps. The sound of music came from two or three plank

erections which rose conspicuously above the huts of the diggers, and

were bright externally with the glories of white and colored paints. To

and from these men were always sauntering, and it needed not the clink

of glasses and the sound of music to tell that they were the bars of the

camp.

Here, standing at the counter, or seated at numerous small tables, men

were drinking villainous liquor, smoking and talking, and paying but

scant attention to the strains of the fiddle or the accordion, save when

some well-known air was played, when all would join in a boisterous

chorus. Some were always passing in or out of a door which led into a

room behind. Here there was comparative quiet, for men were gambling,

and gambling high.

Going backwards and forwards with liquors into the gambling-room of the

Imperial Saloon, which stood just where Pine-tree Gulch opened into Yuba

valley, was a lad, whose appearance had earned for him the name of

White-faced Dick.

White-faced Dick was not one of those who had done well at Pine-tree

Gulch; he had come across the plains with his father, who had died when

half-way over, and Dick had been thrown on the world to shift for

himself. Nature had not intended him for the work, for he was a

delicate, timid lad; what spirits he originally had having been years

before beaten out of him by a brutal father. So far, indeed, Dick was

the better rather than the worse for the event which had left him an

orphan.

They had been traveling with a large party for mutual security against

Indians and Mormons, and so long as the journey lasted Dick had got on

fairly well. He was always ready to do odd jobs, and as the draught

cattle were growing weaker and weaker, and every pound of weight was of

importance, no one grudged him his rations in return for his services;

but when the company began to descend the slopes of the Sierra Nevada

they began to break up, going off by twos and threes to the diggings, of

which they heard such glowing accounts. Some, however, kept straight on

to Sacramento, determining there to obtain news as to the doings at all

the different places, and then to choose that which seemed to offer the

best prospects of success.

Dick proceeded with them to the town, and there found himself alone. His

companions were absorbed in the busy rush of population, and each had so

much to provide and arrange for, that none gave a thought to the

solitary boy. However, at that time no one who had a pair of hands,

however feeble, to work need starve in Sacramento; and for some weeks

Dick hung around the town doing odd jobs, and then, having saved a few

dollars, determined to try his luck at the diggings, and started on

foot with a shovel on his shoulder and a few days' provisions slung

across it.

Arrived at his destination, the lad soon discovered that gold-digging

was hard work for brawny and seasoned men, and after a few feeble

attempts in spots abandoned as worthless he gave up the effort, and

again began to drift; and even in Pine-tree Gulch it was not difficult

to get a living. At first he tried rocking cradles, but the work was far

harder than it appeared. He was standing ankle deep in water from

morning till night, and his cheeks grew paler, and his strength, instead

of increasing, seemed to fade away. Still, there were jobs within his

strength. He could keep a fire alight and watch a cooking-pot, he could

carry up buckets of water or wash a flannel shirt, and so he struggled

on, until at last some kind-hearted man suggested to him that he should

try to get a place at the new saloon which was about to be opened.

"You are not fit for this work, young 'un, and you ought to be at home

with your mother; if you like I will go up with you this evening to

Jeffries. I knew him down on the flats, and I dare say he will take you

on. I don't say as a saloon is a good place for a boy, still you will

always get your bellyful of victuals and a dry place to sleep in, if

it's only under a table. What do you say?"

Dick thankfully accepted the offer, and on Red George's recommendation

was that evening engaged. His work was not hard now, for till the miners

knocked off there was little doing in the saloon; a few men would come

in for a drink at dinner-time, but it was not until the lamps were lit

that business began in earnest, and then for four or five hours Dick was

busy.

A rougher or healthier lad would not have minded the work, but to Dick

it was torture; every nerve in his body thrilled whenever rough miners

cursed him for not carrying out their orders more quickly, or for

bringing them the wrong liquors, which, as his brain was in a whirl with

the noise, the shouting, and the multiplicity of orders, happened

frequently. He might have fared worse had not Red George always stood

his friend, and Red George was an authority in Pine-tree Gulch--powerful

in frame, reckless in bearing and temper, he had been in a score of

fights and had come off them, if not unscathed, at least victorious. He

was notoriously a lucky digger, but his earnings went as fast as they

were made, and he was always ready to open his belt and give a

bountiful pinch of dust to any mate down on his luck.

One evening Dick was more helpless and confused than usual. The saloon

was full, and he had been shouted at and badgered and cursed until he

scarcely knew what he was doing. High play was going on in the saloon,

and a good many men were clustered round the table. Red George was

having a run of luck, and there was a big pile of gold dust on the table

before him. One of the gamblers who was losing had ordered old rye, and

instead of bringing it to him, Dick brought a tumbler of hot liquor

which some one else had called for. With an oath the man took it up and

threw it in his face.

"You cowardly hound!" Red George exclaimed. "Are you man enough to do

that to a man?"

"You bet," the gambler, who was a new arrival at Pine-tree Gulch,

replied; and picking up an empty glass, he hurled it at Red George.

The by-standers sprang aside, and in a moment the two men were facing

each other with outstretched pistols. The two reports rung out

simultaneously: Red George sat down unconcernedly with a streak of blood

flowing down his face, where the bullet had cut a furrow in his cheek;

the stranger fell back with a bullet hole in the centre of his

forehead.

The body was carried outside, and the play continued as if no

interruption had taken place. They were accustomed to such occurrences

in Pine-tree Gulch, and the piece of ground at the top of the hill, that

had been set aside as a burial place, was already dotted thickly with

graves, filled in almost every instance by men who had died, in the

local phraseology, "with their boots on."

Neither then nor afterwards did Red George allude to the subject to

Dick, whose life after this signal instance of his championship was

easier than it had hitherto been, for there were few in Pine-tree Gulch

who cared to excite Red George's anger; and strangers going to the place

were sure to receive a friendly warning that it was best for their

health to keep their tempers over any shortcomings on the part of

White-faced Dick.

Grateful as he was for Red George's interference on his behalf, Dick

felt the circumstance which had ensued more than anyone else in the

camp. With others it was the subject of five minutes' talk, but Dick

could not get out of his head the thought of the dead man's face as he

fell back. He had seen many such frays before, but he was too full of

his own troubles for them to make much impression upon him. But in the

present case he felt as if he himself was responsible for the death of

the gambler; if he had not blundered this would not have happened. He

wondered whether the dead man had a wife and children, and, if so, were

they expecting his return? Would they ever hear where he had died, and

how?

But this feeling, which, tired out as he was when the time came for

closing the bar, often prevented him from sleeping for hours, in no way

lessened his gratitude and devotion towards Red George, and he felt that

he could die willingly if his life would benefit his champion. Sometimes

he thought, too, that his life would not be much to give, for in spite

of shelter and food, the cough which he had caught while working in the

water still clung to him, and, as his employer said to him angrily one

day:

"Your victuals don't do you no good, Dick; you get thinner and thinner,

and folks will think as I starve you. Darned if you ain't a disgrace to

the establishment."

The wind was whistling down the gorges, and the clouds hung among the

pine-woods which still clothed the upper slopes of the hills, and the

diggers, as they turned out one morning, looked up apprehensively.

"But it could not be," they assured each other. Every one knew that the

rains were not due for another month yet; it could only be a passing

shower if it rained at all.

But as the morning went on, men came in from camps higher up the river,

and reports were current that it had been raining for the last two days

among the upper hills; while those who took the trouble to walk across

to the new channel could see for themselves at noon that it was filled

very nigh to the brim, the water rushing along with thick and turbid

current. But those who repeated the rumors, or who reported that the

channel was full, were summarily put down. Men would not believe that

such a calamity as a flood and the destruction of all their season's

work could be impending. There had been some showers, no doubt, as there

had often been before, but it was ridiculous to talk of anything like

rain a month before its time. Still, in spite of these assertions, there

was uneasiness at Pine-tree Gulch, and men looked at the driving clouds

above and shook their heads before they went down to the shafts to work

after dinner.

When the last customer had left and the bar was closed, Dick had

nothing to do till evening, and he wandered outside and sat down on a

stump, at first looking at the work going on in the valley, then so

absorbed in his own thoughts that he noticed nothing, not even the

driving mist which presently set in. He was calculating that he had,

with his savings from his wages and what had been given him by the

miners, laid by eighty dollars. When he got another hundred and twenty

he would go; he would make his way down to San Francisco, and then by

ship to Panama and up to New York, and then west again to the village

where he was born. There would be people there who would know him, and

who would give him work, for his mother's sake. He did not care what it

was; anything would be better than this.

Then his thoughts came back to Pine-tree Gulch, and he started to his

feet. Could he be mistaken? Were his eyes deceiving him? No; among the

stones and boulders of the old bed of the Yuba there was the gleam of

water, and even as he watched it he could see it widening out. He

started to run down the hill to give the alarm, but before he was

half-way he paused, for there were loud shouts, and a scene of bustle

and confusion instantly arose.

The cradles were deserted, and the men working on the surface loaded

themselves with their tools and made for the high ground, while those at

the windlasses worked their hardest to draw up their comrades below. A

man coming down from above stopped close to Dick, with a low cry, and

stood gazing with a white, scared face. Dick had worked with him; he was

one of the company to which Red George belonged.

"What is it, Saunders?"

"My God! they are lost," the man replied. "I was at the windlass when

they shouted up to me to go up and fetch them a bottle of rum. They had

just struck it rich, and wanted a drink on the strength of it."

Dick understood at once. Red George and his mates were still in the

bottom of the shaft, ignorant of the danger which was threatening them.

"Come on," he cried; "we shall be in time yet," and at the top of his

speed dashed down the hill, followed by Saunders.

"What is it, what is it?" asked parties of men mounting the hill.

"Red George's gang are still below."

Dick's eyes were fixed on the water. There was a broad band now of

yellow with a white edge down the centre of the stony flat, and it was

widening with terrible rapidity. It was scarce ten yards from the

windlass at the top of Red George's shaft when Dick, followed closely by

Saunders, reached it.

"Come up, mates; quick, for your lives! The river is rising; you will be

flooded out directly. Every one else has gone!"

As he spoke he pulled at the rope by which the bucket was hanging, and

the handles of the windlass flew round rapidly as it descended. When it

had run out, Dick and he grasped the handles.

"All right below?"

An answering call came up, and the two began their work, throwing their

whole strength into it. Quickly as the windlass revolved, it seemed an

endless time to Dick before the bucket came up, and the first man

stepped out. It was not Red George. Dick had hardly expected it would

be. Red George would be sure to see his two mates up before him, and the

man uttered a cry of alarm as he saw the water, now within a few feet of

the mouth of the shaft.

It was a torrent now, for not only was it coming through the dam, but

it was rushing down in cascades from the new channel. Without a word the

miner placed himself facing Dick and the moment the bucket was again

down, the three grasped the handles. But quickly as they worked, the

edge of the water was within a few inches of the shaft when the next man

reached the surface, but again the bucket descended before the rope

tightened. However, the water had begun to run over the lip--at first in

a mere trickle, and then, almost instantaneously, in a cascade, which

grew larger and larger.

The bucket was half-way up when a sound like thunder was heard, the

ground seemed to tremble under their feet, and then at the turn of the

valley above, a great wave of yellow water, crested with foam, was seen

tearing along at the speed of a race-horse.

"The dam has burst!" Saunders shouted. "Run for your lives, or we are

all lost!"

The three men dropped the handles and ran at full speed towards the

shore, while loud shouts to Dick to follow came from the crowd of men

standing on the slope. But the boy still grasped the handles, and with

lips tightly closed, still toiled on. Slowly the bucket ascended, for

Red George was a heavy man; then suddenly the weight slackened, and the

handle went round faster. The shaft was filling, the water had reached

the bucket, and had risen to Red George's neck, so that his weight was

no longer on the rope. So fast did the water pour in, that it was not

half a minute before the bucket reached the surface, and Red George

sprang out. There was but time for one exclamation, and then the great

wave struck them. Red George was whirled like a straw in the current;

but he was a strong swimmer, and at a point where the valley widened

out, half a mile lower, he struggled to shore.

Two days later the news reached Pine-tree Gulch that a boy's body had

been washed ashore twenty miles down, and ten men, headed by Red George,

went and brought it solemnly back to Pine-tree Gulch. There, among the

stumps of pine-trees, a grave was dug, and there, in the presence of the

whole camp, White-faced Dick was laid to rest.

Pine-tree Gulch is a solitude now, the trees are growing again, and none

would dream that it was once a busy scene of industry; but if the

traveler searches among the pine-trees, he will find a stone with the

words:

"Here lies White-faced Dick, who died to save Red George. 'What can a

man do more than give his life for a friend?'"

The text was the suggestion of an ex-clergyman working as a miner in

Pine-tree Gulch.

Red George worked no more at the diggings, but after seeing the stone

laid in its place, went east, and with what little money came to him

when the common fund of the company was divided after the flood on the

Yuba, bought a small farm, and settled down there; but to the end of his

life he was never weary of telling those who would listen to it the

story of Pine-tree Gulch.

A BRUSH WITH THE CHINESE

AND WHAT CAME OF IT.

It was early in December that H.M.S. _Perseus_ was cruising off the

mouth of the Canton River. War had been declared with China in

consequence of her continued evasions of the treaty she had made with

us, and it was expected that a strong naval force would soon gather to

bring her to reason. In the meantime the ships on the station had a busy

time of it, chasing the enemy's junks when they ventured to show

themselves beyond the reach of the guns of their forts, and occasionally

having a brush with the piratical boats which took advantage of the

general confusion to plunder friend as well as foe.

The _Perseus_ had that afternoon chased two Government junks up a creek.

The sun had already set when they took refuge there, and the captain did

not care to send his boats after them in the dark, as many of the creeks

ran up for miles into the flat country; and as they not unfrequently

had many arms or branches, the boats might, in the dark, miss the junks

altogether. Orders were issued that four boats should be ready for

starting at daybreak the next morning. The _Perseus_ anchored off the

mouth of the creek, and two boats were ordered to row backwards and

forwards off its mouth all night to insure that the enemy did not slip

out in the darkness.

Jack Fothergill, the senior midshipman, was commanding the gig, and two

of the other midshipmen were going in the pinnace and launch, commanded

respectively by the first lieutenant and the master. The three other

midshipmen of the _Perseus_ were loud in their lamentations that they

were not to share in the fun.

"You can't all go, you know," Fothergill said, "and it's no use making a

row about it; the captain has been very good to let three of us go."

"It's all very well for you, Jack," Percy Adcock, the youngest of the

lads, replied, "because you are one of those chosen; and it is not so

hard for Simmons and Linthorpe, because they went the other day in the

boat that chased those junks under shelter of the guns of their battery,

but I haven't had a chance for ever so long."

"What fun was there in chasing the junks?" Simmons said. "We never got

near the brutes till they were close to their battery, and then just as

the first shot came singing from their guns, and we thought that we were

going to have some excitement, the first lieutenant sung out 'Easy all,'

and there was nothing for it but to turn round and to row for the ship,

and a nice hot row it was--two hours and a half in a broiling sun. Of

course I am not blaming Oliphant, for the captain's orders were strict

that we were not to try to cut the junks out if they got under the guns

of any of their batteries. Still it was horribly annoying, and I do

think the captain might have remembered what beastly luck we had last

time, and given us a chance to-morrow."

"It is clear we could not all go," Fothergill said, "and naturally

enough the captain chose the three seniors. Besides, if you did have bad

luck last time, you had your chance, and I don't suppose we shall have

anything more exciting now; these fellows always set fire to their junks

and row for the shore directly they see us, after firing a shot or two

wildly in our direction."

"Well, Jack, if you don't expect any fun," Simmons replied, "perhaps you

wouldn't mind telling the first lieutenant you do not care for going,

and that I am very anxious to take your place. Perhaps he will be good

enough to allow me to relieve you."

"A likely thing that!" Fothergill laughed. "No, Tom, I am sorry you are

not going, but you must make the best of it till another chance comes."

"Don't you think, Jack," Percy Adcock said to his senior in a coaxing

tone later on, "you could manage to smuggle me into the boat with you?"

"Not I, Percy. Suppose you got hurt, what would the captain say then?

And firing as wildly as the Chinese do, a shot is just as likely to hit

your little carcass as to lodge in one of the sailors. No, you must just

make the best of it, Percy, and I promise you that next time there is a

boat expedition, if you are not put in, I will say a good word to the

first luff for you."

"That promise is better than nothing," the boy said; "but I would a deal

rather go this time and take my chance next."

"But you see you can't, Percy, and there's no use talking any more about

it. I really do not expect there will be any fighting. Two junks would

hardly make any opposition to the boats of the ship, and I expect we

shall be back by nine o'clock with the news that they were well on fire

before we came up."

Percy Adcock, however, was determined, if possible, to go. He was a

favorite among the men, and when he spoke to the bow oar of the gig, the

latter promised to do anything he could to aid him to carry out his

wishes.

"We are to start at daybreak, Tom, so that it will be quite dark when

the boats are lowered. I will creep into the gig before that and hide

myself as well as I can under your thwart, and all you have got to do is

to take no notice of me. When the boat is lowered I think they will

hardly make me out from the deck, especially as you will be standing up

in the bow holding on with the boat-hook till the rest get on board."

"Well, sir, I will do my best; but if you are caught you must not let

out that I knew anything about it."

"I won't do that," Percy said. "I don't think there is much chance of my

being noticed until we get on board the junks, and then they won't know

which boat I came off in, and the first lieutenant will be too busy to

blow me up. Of course I shall get it when I am on board again, but I

don't mind that so that I see the fun. Besides, I want to send home

some things to my sister, and she will like them all the better if I can

tell her I captured them on board some junks we seized and burnt."

The next morning the crews mustered before daybreak. Percy had already

taken his place under the bow thwart of the gig. The davits were swung

overboard, and two men took their places in her as she was lowered down

by the falls. As soon as she touched the water the rest of the crew

clambered down by the ladder and took their places; then Fothergill took

his seat in the stern, and the boat pushed off and lay a few lengths

away from the ship until the heavier boats put off. As soon as they were

under way Percy crawled out from his hiding-place and placed himself in

the bow, where he was sheltered by the body of the oarsmen from

Fothergill's sight.

Day was just breaking now, but it was still dark on the water, and the

boat rowed very slowly until it became lighter. Percy could just make

out the shores of the creek on both sides; they were but two or three

feet above the level of the water, and were evidently submerged at high

tide. The creek was about a hundred yards wide, and the lad could not

see far ahead, for it was full of sharp windings and turnings. Here and

there branches joined it, but the boats were evidently following the

main channel. After another half-hour's rowing the first lieutenant

suddenly gave the order, "Easy all," and the men, looking over their

shoulders, saw a village a quarter of a mile ahead, with the two junks

they had chased the night before lying in front of it. Almost at the

same moment a sudden uproar was heard--drums were beaten and gongs

sounded.

"They are on the look-out for us," the first lieutenant said. "Mr.

Mason, do you keep with me and attack the junk highest up the river; Mr.

Bellew and Mr. Fothergill, do you take the one lower down. Row on, men."

The oars all touched the water together, and the four boats leapt

forward. In a minute a scattering fire of gingals and matchlocks was

opened from the junks, and the bullets pattered on the water round the

boats. Percy was kneeling up in the bow now. As they passed a branch

channel three or four hundred yards from the village, he started and

leapt to his feet.

"There are four or five junks in that passage, Fothergill; they are

poling out."

The first lieutenant heard the words.

"Row on, men; let us finish with these craft ahead before the others

get out. This must be that piratical village we have heard about, Mr.

Mason, as lying up one of these creeks; that accounts for those two

junks not going higher up. I was surprised at seeing them here, for they

might guess that we should try to get them this morning. Evidently they

calculated on catching us in a trap."

Percy was delighted at finding that, in the excitement caused by his

news, the first lieutenant had forgotten to take any notice of his being

there without orders, and he returned a defiant nod to the threat

conveyed by Fothergill shaking his fist at him. As they neared the junks

the fire of those on board redoubled, and was aided by that of many

villagers gathered on the bank of the creek. Suddenly from a bank of

rushes four cannons were fired. A ball struck the pinnace, smashing in

her side. The other boats gathered hastily round and took her crew on

board, and then dashed at the junks, which were but a hundred yards

distant. The valor of the Chinese evaporated as they saw the boats

approaching, and scores of them leapt overboard and swam for shore.

In another minute the boats were alongside and the crews scrambling up

the sides of the junks. A few Chinamen only attempted to oppose them.

These were speedily overcome, and the British had now time to look

round, and saw that six junks crowded with men had issued from the side

creek and were making towards them.

"Let the boats tow astern," the lieutenant ordered. "We should have to

run the gauntlet of that battery on shore if we were to attack them, and

might lose another boat before we reached their side. We will fight them

here."

The junks approached, those on board firing their guns, yelling and

shouting, while the drums and gongs were furiously beaten.

"They will find themselves mistaken, Percy, if they think they are going

to frighten us with all that row," Fothergill said. "You young rascal,

how did you get on board the boat without being seen? The captain will

be sure to suspect I had a hand in concealing you."

The tars were now at work firing the gingals attached to the bulwarks

and the matchlocks, with which the deck was strewn, at the approaching

junks. As they took steady aim, leaning their pieces on the bulwarks,

they did considerable execution among the Chinamen crowded on board the

junks, while the shot of the Chinese, for the most part, whistled far

overhead; but the guns of the shore battery, which had now been slewed

round to bear upon them, opened with a better aim, and several shots

came crashing into the sides of the two captured junks.

"Get ready to board, lads!" Lieutenant Oliphant shouted. "Don't wait for

them to board you, but the moment they come alongside lash their rigging

to ours and spring on board them."

The leading junk was now about twenty yards away, and presently grated

alongside. Half-a-dozen sailors at once sprang into her rigging with

ropes, and after lashing the junks together leapt down upon her deck,

where Fothergill was leading the gig's crew and some of those rescued

from the pinnace, while Mr. Bellew, with another party, had boarded her

at the stern. Several of the Chinese fought stoutly, but the greater

part lost heart at seeing themselves attacked by the "white devils,"

instead of, as they expected, overwhelming them by their superior

numbers. Many began at once to jump overboard, and after two or three

minutes' sharp fighting, the rest either followed their example or were

beaten below.

Fothergill looked round. The other junk had been attacked by two of the

enemy, one on each side, and the little body of sailors were gathered

in her waist, and were defending themselves against an overwhelming

number of the enemy. The other three piratical junks had been carried

somewhat up the creek by the tide that was sweeping inward, and could

not for the moment take part in the fight.

"Mr. Oliphant is hard pressed, sir," Fothergill said to the master.

"Shall we take to the boats?"

"That will be the best plan," Mr. Bellew replied. "Quick, lads, get the

boats alongside and tumble in; there is not a moment to be lost."

The crew at once sprang to the boats and rowed to the other junk, which

was but some thirty yards away.

The Chinese, absorbed in their contest with the crew of the pinnace, did

not perceive the newcomers until they gained the deck, and with a shout

fell furiously upon them. In their surprise and consternation the

pirates did not pause to note that they were still five to one superior

in number, but made a precipitate rush for their own vessels. The

English at once took the offensive. The first lieutenant with his party

boarded one, while the newcomers leapt on to the deck of the other. The

panic which had seized the Chinese was so complete that they attempted

no resistance whatever, but sprang overboard in great numbers and swam

to the shore, which was but twenty yards away, and in three minutes the

English were in undisputed possession of both vessels.

"Back again, Mr. Fothergill, or you will lose the craft you captured,"

Lieutenant Oliphant said; "they have already cut her free."

The Chinese, indeed, who had been beaten below by the boarding party,

had soon perceived the sudden departure of their captors, and gaining

the deck again had cut the lashings which fastened them to the other

junk, and were proceeding to hoist their sails. They were too late,

however. Almost before the craft had way on her Fothergill and his crew

were alongside. The Chinese did not wait for the attack, but at once

sprang overboard and made for the shore. The other three junks, seeing

the capture of their comrades, had already hoisted their sails and were

making up the creek. Fothergill dropped an anchor, left four of his men

in charge, and rowed back to Mr. Oliphant.

"What shall we do next, sir?"

"We will give those fellows on shore a lesson, and silence their

battery. Two men have been killed since you left. We must let the other

junks go for the present. Four of my men were killed and eleven wounded

before Mr. Bellew and you came to our assistance. The Chinese were

fighting pluckily up to that time, and it would have gone very hard with

us if you had not been at hand; the beggars will fight when they think

they have got it all their own way. But before we land we will set fire

to the five junks we have taken. Do you return and see that the two

astern are well lighted, Mr. Fothergill; Mr. Mason will see to these

three. When you have done your work take to your boat and lay off till I

join you; keep the junks between you and the shore, to protect you from

the fire of the rascals there."

"I cannot come with you, I suppose, Fothergill?" Percy Adcock said, as

the midshipman was about to descend into his boat again.

"Yes, come along, Percy. It doesn't matter what you do now. The captain

will be so pleased when he hears that we have captured and burnt five

junks, that you will get off with a very light wigging, I imagine."

"That's just what I was thinking, Jack. Has it not been fun?"

"You wouldn't have thought it fun if you had got one of those matchlock

balls in your body. There are a good many of our poor fellows just at

the present moment who do not see anything funny in the affair at all.

Here we are; clamber up."

The crew soon set to work under Fothergill's orders. The sails were cut

off the masts and thrown down into the hold; bamboos, of which there

were an abundance down there, were heaped over them, a barrel of oil was

poured over the mass, and the fire then applied.

"That will do, lads. Now take to your boats and let's make a bonfire of

the other junk."

In ten minutes both vessels were a sheet of flame, and the boat was

lying a short distance from them waiting for further operations. The

inhabitants of the village, furious at the failure of the plan which had

been laid for the destruction of the "white devils," kept up a constant

fusillade, which, however, did no harm, for the gig was completely

sheltered by the burning junks close to her from their missiles.

"There go the others!" Percy exclaimed after a minute or two, as three

columns of smoke arose simultaneously from the other junks, and the

sailors were seen dropping into their boats alongside.

The killed and wounded were placed in the other gig with four sailors

in charge. They were directed to keep under shelter of the junks until

re-joined by the pinnace and Fothergill's gig, after these had done

their work on shore.

When all was ready the first lieutenant raised his hand as a signal, and

the two boats dashed between the burning junks and rowed for the shore.

Such of the natives as had their weapons charged fired a hasty volley,

and then, as the sailors leapt from their boats, took to their heels.

"Mr. Fothergill, take your party into the village and set fire to the

houses; shoot down every man you see. This place is a nest of pirates. I

will capture that battery and then join you."

Fothergill and his sailors at once entered the village. The men had

already fled; the women were turned out of the houses, and these were

immediately set on fire. The tars regarded the whole affair as a

glorious joke, and raced from house to house, making a hasty search in

each for concealed valuables before setting it on fire. In a short time

the whole village was in a blaze.

"There is a house there, standing in that little grove a hundred yards

away," Percy said.

"It looks like a temple," Fothergill replied. "However, we will have a

look at it." And calling two sailors to accompany him, he started at a

run towards it, Percy keeping by his side.

"It is a temple," Fothergill said when they approached it. "Still, we

will have a look at it, but we won't burn it; it will be as well to

respect the religion, even of a set of piratical scoundrels like these."

At the head of his men he rushed in at the entrance. There was a blaze

of fire as half a dozen muskets were discharged in their faces. One of

the sailors dropped dead, and before the others had time to realize what

had happened they were beaten to the ground by a storm of blows from

swords and other weapons.

A heavy blow crashed down on Percy's head, and he fell insensible even

before he realized what had occurred.

When he recovered, his first sensation was that of a vague wonder as to

what had happened to him. He seemed to be in darkness and unable to move

hand or foot. He was compressed in some way that he could not at first

understand, and was being bumped and jolted in an extraordinary manner.

It was some little time before he could understand the situation. He

first remembered the fight with the junks, then he recalled the landing

and burning the village; then, as his brain cleared, came the

recollection of his start with Fothergill for the temple among the

trees, his arrival there, and a loud report and flash of fire.

"I must have been knocked down and stunned," he said to himself, "and I

suppose I am a prisoner now to these brutes, and one of them must be

carrying me on his back."

Yes, he could understand it all now. His hands and his feet were tied,

ropes were passed round his body in every direction, and he was fastened

back to back upon the shoulders of a Chinaman. Percy remembered the

tales he had heard of the imprisonment and torture of those who fell

into the hands of the Chinese, and he bitterly regretted that he had not

been killed instead of stunned in the surprise of the temple.

"It would have been just the same feeling," he said to himself, "and

there would have been an end of it. Now, there is no saying what is

going to happen. I wonder whether Jack was killed, and the sailors."

Presently there was a jabber of voices; the motion ceased. Percy could

feel that the cords were being unwound, and he was dropped on to his

feet; then the cloth was removed from his head, and he could look

around.

A dozen Chinese, armed with matchlocks and bristling with swords and

daggers, stood around, and among them, bound like himself and gagged by

a piece of bamboo forced lengthways across his mouth and kept there with

a string going round the back of the head, stood Fothergill. He was

bleeding from several cuts in the head. Percy's heart gave a bound of

joy at finding that he was not alone; then he tried to feel sorry that

Jack had not escaped, but failed to do so, although he told himself that

his comrade's presence would not in any way alleviate the fate which was

certain to befall him. Still the thought of companionship, even in

wretchedness, and perhaps a vague hope that Jack, with his energy and

spirit, might contrive some way for their escape, cheered him up.

As Percy, too, was gagged, no word could be exchanged by the midshipmen,

but they nodded to each other. They were now put side by side and made

to walk in the centre of their captors. On the way they passed through

several villages, whose inhabitants poured out to gaze at the captives,

but the men in charge of them were evidently not disposed to delay, as

they passed through without a stop. At last they halted before two

cottages standing by themselves, thrust the prisoners into a small room,

removed their gags, and left them to themselves.

"Well, Percy, my boy, so they caught you, too? I am awfully sorry. It

was my fault for going with only two men into that temple, but as the

village had been deserted and scarcely a man was found there, it never

entered my mind that there might be a party in the temple."

"Of course not, Jack; it was a surprise altogether. I don't know

anything about it, for I was knocked down, I suppose, just as we went

in, and the first thing I knew about it was that I was being carried on

the back of one of those fellows. I thought it was awful at first, but I

don't seem to mind so much now you are with me."

"It is a comfort to have some one to speak to," Jack said, "yet I wish

you were not here, Percy; I can't do you any good, and I shall never

cease blaming myself for having brought you into this scrape. I don't

know much more about the affair than you do. The guns were fired so

close to us that my face was scorched with one of them, and almost at

the same instant I got a lick across my cheek with a sword. I had just

time to hit at one of them, and then almost at the same moment I got two

or three other blows, and down I went; they threw themselves on the top

of me and tied and gagged me in no time. Then I was tied to a long

bamboo, and two fellows put the ends on their shoulders and went off

with me through the fields. Of course I was face downwards, and did not

know you were with us till they stopped and loosed me from the bamboo

and set me on my feet."

"But what are they going to do with us do you think, Jack?"

"I should say they are going to take us to Canton and claim a reward for

our capture, and there I suppose they will cut off our heads or saw us

in two, or put us to some other unpleasant kind of death. I expect they

are discussing it now; do you hear what a jabber they are kicking up?"

Voices were indeed heard raised in angry altercation in the next room.

After a time the din subsided and the conversation appeared to take a

more amiable turn.

"I suppose they have settled it as far as they are concerned," Jack

said; "anyhow, you may be quite sure they mean to make something out of

us. If they hadn't they would have finished us at once, for they must

have been furious at the destruction of their junks and village. As to

the idea that mercy has anything to do with it, we may as well put it

out of our minds. The Chinaman, at the best of times, has no feeling of

pity in his nature, and after their defeat it is certain they would have

killed us at once had they not hoped to do better by us. If they had

been Indians I should have said they had carried us off to enjoy the

satisfaction of torturing us, but I don't suppose it is that with them."

"Do you think there is any chance of our getting away?" Percy asked,

after a pause.

"I should say not the least in the world, Percy. My hands are fastened

so tight now that the ropes seem cutting into my wrists, and after they

had set me on my feet and cut the cords of my legs I could scarcely

stand at first, my feet were so numbed by the pressure. However, we must

keep up our pluck. Possibly they may keep us at Canton for a bit, and if

they do the squadron may arrive and fight its way past the forts and

take the city before they have quite made up their minds as to what kind

of death will be most appropriate to the occasion. I wonder what they

are doing now? They seem to be chopping sticks."

"I wish they would give us some water," Percy said. "I am frightfully

thirsty."

"And so am I, Percy; there is one comfort, they won't let us die of

thirst, they could get no satisfaction out of our deaths now."

Two hours later some of the Chinese re-entered the room and led the

captives outside, and the lads then saw what was the meaning of the

noise they had heard. A cage had been manufactured of strong bamboos. It

was about four and a half feet long, four feet wide, and less than three

feet high; above it were fastened two long bamboos. Two or three of the

bars of the cage had been left open.

"My goodness! they never intend to put us in there," Percy exclaimed.

"That they do," Jack said. "They are going to carry us the rest of the

way."

The cords which bound the prisoners' hands were now cut, and they were

motioned to crawl into the cage. This they did; the bars were then put

in their places and securely lashed. Four men went to the ends of the

poles and lifted the cage upon their shoulders; two others took their

places beside it, and one man, apparently the leader of the party,

walked on ahead; the rest remained behind.

"I never quite realized what a fowl felt in a coop before," Jack said,

"but if its sensations are at all like mine they must be decidedly

unpleasant. It isn't high enough to sit upright in, it is nothing like

long enough to lie down, and as to getting out one might as well think

of flying. Do you know, Percy, I don't think they mean taking us to

Canton at all. I did not think of it before, but from the direction of

the sun I feel sure that we cannot have been going that way. What they

are up to I can't imagine."

In an hour they came to a large village. Here the cage was set down and

the villagers closed round. They were, however, kept a short distance

from the cage by the men in charge of it. Then a wooden platter was

placed on the ground, and persons throwing a few copper coins into this

were allowed to come near the cage.

"They are making a show of us!" Fothergill exclaimed. "That's what they

are up to, you see if it isn't; they are going to travel up country to

show the 'white devils' whom their valor has captured."

This was, indeed, the purpose of the pirates. At that time Europeans

seldom ventured beyond the limits assigned to them in the two or three

towns where they were permitted to trade, and few, indeed, of the

country people had ever obtained a sight of the white barbarians of

whose doings they had so frequently heard. Consequently a small crowd

soon gathered round the cage, eyeing the captives with the same interest

they would have felt as to unknown and dangerous beasts; they laughed

and joked, passed remarks upon them, and even poked them with sticks.

Fothergill, furious at this treatment caught one of the sticks, and

wrenching it from the hands of the Chinaman, tried to strike at him

through the bars, a proceeding which excited shouts of laughter from the

bystanders.

"I think, Jack," Percy said, "it will be best to try and keep our

tempers and not to seem to mind what they do to us, then if they find

they can't get any fun out of us they will soon leave us alone."

"Of course, that's the best plan," Fothergill agreed, "but it's not so

easy to follow. That fellow very nearly poked out my eye with his stick,

and no one's going to stand that if he can help it."

It was some hours before the curiosity of the village was satisfied.

When all had paid who were likely to do so, the guards broke up their

circle, and leaving two of their number at the cage to see that no

actual harm was caused to their prisoners, the rest went off to a

refreshment house. The place of the elders was now taken by the boys and

children of the village, who crowded round the cage, prodded the

prisoners with sticks, and, putting their hands through the bars, pulled

their ears and hair. This amusement, however, was brought to an abrupt

conclusion by Fothergill suddenly seizing the wrist of a big boy and

pulling his arm through the cage until his face was against the bars;

then he proceeded to punch him until the guard, coming to his rescue,

poked Fothergill with his stick until he released his hold.

The punishment of their comrade excited neither anger nor resentment

among the other boys, who yelled with delight at his discomfiture, but

it made them more careful in approaching the cage, and though they

continued to poke the prisoners with sticks they did not venture again

to thrust a hand through the bars. At sunset the guards again came

round, lifted the cage and carried it into a shed. A platter of dirty

rice and a jug of water were put into the cage; two of the men lighted

their long pipes and sat down on guard beside it, and, the doors being

closed, the captives were left in peace.

"If this sort of thing is to go on, as I suppose it is," Fothergill

said, "the sooner they cut off our heads the better."

"It is very bad, Jack. I am sore all over with those probes from their

sharp sticks."

"I don't care for the pain, Percy, so much as the humiliation of the

thing. To be stared at and poked at as if we were wild beasts by these

curs, when with half a dozen of our men we could send a hundred of them

scampering, I feel as if I could choke with rage."

"You had better try and eat some of this rice, Jack. It is beastly, but

I daresay we shall get no more until to-morrow night, and we must keep

up our strength if we can. At any rate, the water is not bad, that's a

comfort."

"No thanks to them," Jack growled. "If there had been any bad water in

the neighborhood they would have given it to us."

For six weeks the sufferings of the prisoners continued. Their captors

avoided towns where the authorities would probably at once have taken

the prisoners out of their hands. No one would have recognized the two

captives as the midshipmen of the _Perseus_; their clothes were in

rags--torn to pieces by the thrusts of the sharp-pointed bamboos, to

which they had daily been subjected--the bad food, the cramped position,

and the misery which they suffered had worn both lads to skeletons;

their hair was matted with filth, their faces begrimed with dirt. Percy

was so weak that he felt he could not stand. Fothergill, being three

years older, was less exhausted, but he knew that he, too, could not

support his sufferings for many days longer. Their bodies were covered

with sores, and try as they would they were able to catch only a few

minutes' sleep at a time, so much did the bamboo bars hurt their wasted

limbs.

They seldom exchanged a word during the daytime, suffering in silence

the persecutions to which they were exposed, but at night they talked

over their homes and friends in England, and their comrades on board

ship, seldom saying a word as to their present position. They were now

in a hilly country, but had not the least idea of the direction in which

it lay from Canton or its distance from the coast.

One evening Jack said to his companion, "I think it's nearly all over

now, Percy. The last two days we have made longer journeys, and have not

stopped at any of the smaller villages we passed through. I fancy our

guards must see that we can't last much longer, and are taking us down

to some town to hand us over to the authorities and get their reward for

us."

"I hope it is so, Jack; the sooner the better. Not that it makes much

difference now to me, for I do not think I can stand many more days of

it."

"I am afraid I am tougher than you, Percy, and shall take longer to

kill, so I hope with all my heart that I may be right, and that they may

be going to give us up to the authorities."

The next evening they stopped at a large place, and were subjected to

the usual persecution; this, however, was now less prolonged than during

the early days of their captivity, for they had now no longer strength

or spirits to resent their treatment, and as no fun was to be obtained

from passive victims, even the village boys soon ceased to find any

amusement in tormenting them.

When most of their visitors had left them, an elderly Chinaman

approached the side of the cage. He spoke to their guards and looked at

them attentively for some minutes, then he said in pigeon English, "You

officer men?"

"Yes!" Jack exclaimed, starting at the sound of the English words, the

first they had heard spoken since their captivity. "Yes, we are officers

of the _Perseus_."

"Me speeke English velly well," the Chinaman said; "me pilot-man many

years on Canton river. How you get here?"

"We were attacking some piratical junks, and landed to destroy the

village where the people were firing on us. We entered a place full of

pirates, and were knocked down and taken prisoners, and carried away up

the country; that is six weeks ago, and you see what we are now."

"Pirate men velly bad," the Chinaman said; "plunder many junk on river

and kill crew. Me muchee hate them."

"Can you do anything for us?" Jack asked. "You will be well rewarded if

you could manage to get us free."

The man shook his head.

"Me no see what can do, me stranger here; come to stay with wifey;

people no do what me ask them. English ships attack Canton, much fight

and take town, people all hate English. Bad country dis. People in one

village fight against another. Velly bad men here."

"How far is Canton away?" Jack asked. "Could you not send down to tell

the English we are here?"

"Fourteen days' journey off," the man said; "no see how can do

anything."

"Well," Jack said, "when you get back again to Canton let our people

know what has been the end of us; we shall not last much longer."

"All light," the man said, "will see what me can do. Muchee think

to-night!" And after saying a few words to the guards, who had been

regarding this conversation with an air of surprise, the Chinaman

retired.

The guards had for some time abandoned the precaution of sitting up at

night by the cage, convinced that their captives had no longer strength

to attempt to break through its fastenings or to drag themselves many

yards away if they could do so. They therefore left it standing in the

open, and, wrapping themselves in their thickly-wadded coats, for the

nights were cold, lay down by the side of the cage.

The coolness of the nights had, indeed, assisted to keep the two

prisoners alive. During the day the sun was excessively hot, and the

crowd of visitors round the cage impeded the circulation of the air and

added to their sufferings. It was true that the cold at night frequently

prevented them from sleeping, but it acted as a tonic and braced them

up.

"What did he mean about the villages attacking each other?" Percy asked.

"I have heard," Jack replied, "that in some parts of China things are

very much the same as they used to be in the highlands of Scotland.

There is no law or order. The different villages are like clans, and

wage war on each other. Sometimes the Government sends a number of

troops, who put the thing down for a time, chop off a good many heads,

and then march away, and the whole work begins again as soon as their

backs are turned."

That night the uneasy slumber of the lads was disturbed by a sudden

firing; shouts and yells were heard, and the firing redoubled.

"The village is attacked," Jack said. "I noticed that, like some other

places we have come into lately, there is a strong earthen wall round

it, with gates. Well, there is one comfort--it does not make much

difference to us which side wins."

The guards at the first alarm leapt to their feet, caught up their

matchlocks, and ran to aid in the defence of the wall. Two minutes later

a man ran up to the cage.

"All lightee," he said; "just what me hopee."

With his knife he cut the tough withes that held the bamboos in their

places, and pulled out three of the bars.

"Come along," he said; "no time to lose."

Jack scrambled out, but in trying to stand upright gave a sharp

exclamation of pain. Percy crawled out more slowly; he tried to stand

up, but could not. The Chinaman caught him up and threw him on his

shoulder.

"Come along quickee," he said to Jack; "if takee village, kill evely

one." He set off at a run. Jack followed as fast as he could, groaning

at every step from the pain the movement caused to his bruised body.

They went to the side of the village opposite to that at which the

attack was going on. They met no one on the way, the inhabitants having

all rushed to the other side to repel the attack. They stopped at a

small gate in the wall, the Chinaman drew back the bolts and opened it,

and they passed out into the country. For an hour they kept on. By the

end of that time Jack could scarcely drag his limbs along. The Chinaman

halted at length in a clump of trees surrounded by a thick undergrowth.

"Allee safee here," he said, "no searchee so far; here food;" and he

produced from a wallet a cold chicken and some boiled rice, and unslung

from his shoulder a gourd filled with cold tea.

"Me go back now, see what happen. To-mollow nightee come again--bringee

more food." And without another word went off at a rapid pace.

Jack moistened his lips with the tea, and then turned to his companion.

Percy had not spoken a word since he had been released from the cage,

and had been insensible during the greater part of his journey. Jack

poured some cold tea between his lips.

"Cheer up, Percy, old boy, we are free now, and with luck and that good

fellow's help we will work our way down to Canton yet."

"I shall never get down there; you may," Percy said feebly.

"Oh, nonsense, you will pick up strength like a steam-engine now. Here,

let me prop you against this tree. That's better. Now drink a drop of

this tea; it's like nectar after that filthy water we have been

drinking. Now you will feel better. Now you must try and eat a little of

this chicken and rice. Oh, nonsense, you have got to do it. I am not

going to let you give way when our trouble is just over. Think of your

people at home, Percy, and make an effort, for their sakes. Good

heavens! now I think of it, it must be Christmas morning. We were caught

on the 2d and we have been just twenty-two days on show. I am sure that

it must be past twelve o'clock, and it is Christmas-day. It is a good

omen, Percy. This food isn't like roast beef and plum-pudding, but it's

not to be despised, I can tell you. Come, fire away, that's a good

fellow."

Percy made an effort and ate a few mouthfuls of rice and chicken, then

he took another draught of tea, and lay down, and was almost immediately

asleep.

Jack ate his food slowly and contentedly till he finished half the

supply, then he, too, lay down, and, after a short but hearty

thanksgiving for his escape from a slow and lingering death, he, too,

fell off to sleep. The sun was rising when he woke, being aroused by a

slight movement on the part of Percy; he opened his eyes and sat up.

"Well, Percy, how do you feel this morning?" he asked cheerily.

"I feel too weak to move," Percy replied languidly.

"Oh, you will be all right when you have sat up and eaten breakfast,"

Jack said. "Here you are; here is a wing for you, and this rice is as

white as snow, and the tea is first-rate. I thought last night after I

lay down that I heard a murmur of water, so after we have had breakfast

I will look about and see if I can find it. We should feel like new men

after a wash. You look awful, and I am sure I am just as bad."

The thought of a wash inspirited Percy far more than that of eating, and

he sat up and made a great effort to do justice to the breakfast. He

succeeded much better than he had done the night before, and Jack,

although he pretended to grumble, was satisfied with his companion's

progress, and finished off the rest of the food. Then he set out to

search for water. He had not very far to go; a tiny stream, a few inches

wide and two or three inches deep, ran through the wood from the higher

ground. After throwing himself down and taking a drink, he hurried back

to Percy.

"It is all right, Percy, I've found it. We can wash to our hearts'

content; think of that, lad."

Percy could hardly stand, but he made an effort, and Jack half carried

him to the streamlet. There the lads spent hours. First they bathed

their heads and hands, and then, stripping, lay down in the stream and

allowed it to flow over them, then they rubbed themselves with handfuls

of leaves dipped in the water, and when they at last put on their rags

again felt like new men. Percy was able to walk back to the spot they

had quitted with the assistance only of Jack's arm. The latter, feeling

that his breakfast had by no means appeased his hunger, now started for

a search through the wood, and presently returned to Percy laden with

nuts and berries.

"The nuts are sure to be all right; I expect the berries are, too. I

have certainly seen some like them in native markets, and I think it

will be quite safe to risk it."

The rest of the day was spent in picking nuts and eating them. Then they

sat down and waited for the arrival of their friend. He came two hours

after nightfall with a wallet stored with provisions, and told them that

he had regained the village unobserved. The attack had been repulsed,

but with severe loss to the defenders as well as to the assailants; two

of their guards had been among the killed. The others had made a great

clamor over the escape of the prisoners, and had made a close search

throughout the village and immediately round it, for they were convinced

that their captives had not the strength to go any distance. He thought,

however, that although they had professed the greatest indignation, and

had offered many threats as to the vengeance that Government would take

upon the village, one of whose inhabitants, at least, must have aided in

the evasion of the prisoners, they would not trouble themselves any

further in the matter. They had already reaped a rich harvest from the

exhibition, and would divide among themselves the share of their late

comrades; nor was it at all improbable that if they were to report the

matter to the authorities they would themselves get into serious trouble

for not having handed over the prisoners immediately after their

capture.

For a fortnight the pilot nursed and fed the two midshipmen. He had

already provided them with native clothes, so that if by chance any

villagers should catch sight of them they would not recognize them as

the escaped white men. At the end of that time both the lads had almost

recovered from the effects of their sufferings. Jack, indeed, had

picked up from the first, but Percy for some days continued so weak and

ill that Jack had feared that he was going to have an attack of fever of

some kind. His companion's cheery and hopeful chat did as much good for

Percy as the nourishing food with which their friend supplied them, and

at the end of the fortnight he declared that he felt sufficiently strong

to attempt to make his way down to the coast.

The pilot acted as their guide. When they inquired about his wife, he

told them carelessly that she would remain with her kinsfolk, and would

travel on to Canton and join him there when she found an opportunity.

The journey was accomplished at night, by very short stages at first,

but by increasing distances as Percy gained strength. During the daytime

the lads lay hid in woods or jungles, while their companion went into

the village and purchased food. They struck the river many miles above

Canton, and the pilot, going down first to a village on its banks,

bargained for a boat to take him and two women down to the city.

The lads went on board at night and took their places in the little

cabin formed of bamboos and covered with mats in the stern of the boat,

and remained thus sheltered not only from the view of people in boats

passing up or down the stream, but from the eyes of their own boatmen.

After two days' journey down the river without incident, they arrived

off Canton, where the British fleet was still lying while negotiations

for peace were being carried on with the authorities at Pekin. Peeping

out between the mats, the lads caught sight of the English warships,

and, knowing that there was now no danger, they dashed out of the cabin,

to the surprise of the native boatmen, and shouted and waved their arms

to the distant ships.

In ten minutes they were alongside the _Perseus_, when they were hailed

as if restored from the dead. The pilot was very handsomely rewarded by

the English authorities for his kindness to the prisoners, and was

highly satisfied with the result of his proceedings, which more than

doubled the little capital with which he had retired from business. Jack

Fothergill and Percy Adcock declare that they have never since eaten

chicken without thinking of their Christmas fare on the morning of their

escape from the hands of the Chinese pirates.

THE END.

A. L. Burt's Catalogue of Books for Young People by Popular Writers,

52-58 Duane Street, New York

BOOKS FOR BOYS.

+Joe's Luck+: A Boy's Adventures in California. By HORATIO ALGER, JR.

12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

The story is chock fall of stirring incidents, while the amusing

situations are furnished by Joshua Bickford, from Pumpkin Hollow, and

the fellow who modestly styles himself the "Rip-tail Roarer, from Pike

Co., Missouri." Mr. Alger never writes a poor book, and "Joe's Luck" is

certainly one of his best.

+Tom the Bootblack+; or, The Road to Success. By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo,

cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

A bright, enterprising lad was Tom the Bootblack. He was not at all

ashamed of his humble calling, though always on the lookout to better

himself. The lad started for Cincinnati to look up his heritage. Mr.

Grey, the uncle, did not hesitate to employ a ruffian to kill the lad.

The plan failed, and Gilbert Grey, once Tom the bootblack, came into a

comfortable fortune. This is one of Mr. Alger's best stories.

+Dan the Newsboy.+ By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price

$1.00.

Dan Mordaunt and his mother live in a poor tenement, and the lad is

pluckily trying to make ends meet by selling papers in the streets of

New York. A little heiress of six years is confided to the care of the

Mordaunts. The child is kidnapped and Dan tracks the child to the house

where she is hidden, and rescues her. The wealthy aunt of the little

heiress is so delighted with Dan's courage and many good qualities that

she adopts him as her heir.

+Tony the Hero+: A Brave Boy's Adventure with a Tramp. By HORATIO ALGER,

JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Tony, a sturdy bright-eyed boy of fourteen, is under the control of

Rudolph Rugg, a thorough rascal. After much abuse Tony runs away and

gets a job as stable boy in a country hotel. Tony is heir to a large

estate. Rudolph for a consideration hunts up Tony and throws him down a

deep well. Of course Tony escapes from the fate provided for him, and by

a brave act, a rich friend secures his rights and Tony is prosperous. A

very entertaining book.

+The Errand Boy+; or, How Phil Brent Won Success. By HORATIO ALGER, JR.

12mo, cloth,illustrated, price $1.00.

The career of "The Errand Boy" embraces the city adventures of a smart

country lad. Philip was brought up by a kind-hearted innkeeper named

Brent. The death of Mrs. Brent paved the way for the hero's subsequent

troubles. A retired merchant in New York secures him the situation of

errand boy, and thereafter stands as his friend.

+Tom Temple's Career.+ By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated,

price $1.00.

Tom Temple is a bright, self-reliant lad. He leaves Plympton village to

seek work in New York, whence he undertakes an important mission to

California. Some of his adventures in the far west are so startling that

the reader will scarcely close the book until the last page shall have

been reached. The tale is written in Mr. Alger's most fascinating style.

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the

publisher, +A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York+.

BOOKS FOR BOYS.

+Frank Fowler, the Cash Boy.+ By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth,

illustrated, price $1.00.

Frank Fowler, a poor boy, bravely determines to make a living for

himself and his foster-sister Grace. Going to New York he obtains a

situation as cash boy in a dry goods store. He renders a service to a

wealthy old gentleman who takes a fancy to the lad, and thereafter helps

the lad to gain success and fortune.

+Tom Thatcher's Fortune.+ By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated,

price $1.00.

Tom Thatcher is a brave, ambitious, unselfish boy. He supports his

mother and sister on meagre wages earned as a shoe-pegger in John

Simpson's factory. Tom is discharged from the factory and starts

overland for California. He meets with many adventures. The story is

told in a way which has made Mr. Alger's name a household word in so

many homes.

+The Train Boy.+ By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price

$1.00.

Paul Palmer was a wide-awake boy of sixteen who supported his mother and

sister by selling books and papers on the Chicago and Milwaukee

Railroad. He detects a young man in the act of picking the pocket of a

young lady. In a railway accident many passengers are killed, but Paul

is fortunate enough to assist a Chicago merchant, who out of gratitude

takes him into his employ. Paul succeeds with tact and judgment and is

well started on the road to business prominence.

+Mark Mason's Victory.+ The Trials and Triumphs of a Telegraph Boy. By

HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Mark Mason, the telegraph boy, was a sturdy, honest lad, who pluckily

won his way to success by his honest manly efforts under many

difficulties. This story will please the very large class of boys who

regard Mr. Alger as a favorite author.

+A Debt of Honor.+ The Story of Gerald Lane's Success in the Far West. By

HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

The story of Gerald Lane and the account of the many trials and

disappointments which he passed through before he attained success, will

interest all boys who have read the previous stories of this delightful

author.

+Ben Bruce.+ Scenes in the Life of a Bowery Newsboy. By HORATIO ALGER,

JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Ben Bruce was a brave, manly, generous boy. The story of his efforts,

and many seeming failures and disappointments, and his final success,

are most interesting to all readers. The tale is written in Mr. Alger's

most fascinating style.

+The Castaways+; or, On the Florida Reefs. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth,

illustrated, price $1.00.

This tale smacks of the salt sea. From the moment that the Sea Queen

leaves lower New York bay till the breeze leaves her becalmed off the

coast of Florida, one can almost hear the whistle of the wind through

her rigging, the creak of her straining cordage as she heels to the

leeward. The adventures of Ben Clark, the hero of the story and Jake the

cook, cannot fail to charm the reader. As a writer for young people Mr.

Otis is a prime favorite.

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the

publisher, +A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York+.

BOOKS FOR BOYS.

+Wrecked on Spider Island+; or, How Ned Rogers Found the Treasure. By

JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Ned Rogers, a "down-east" plucky lad ships as cabin boy to earn a

livelihood. Ned is marooned on Spider Island, and while there discovers

a wreck submerged in the sand, and finds a considerable amount of

treasure. The capture of the treasure and the incidents of the Voyage

serve to make as entertaining a story of sea-life as the most captious

boy could desire.

+The Search for the Silver City+: A Tale of Adventure in Yucatan. By JAMES

OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Two lads, Teddy Wright and Neal Emery, embark on the steam yacht Day

Dream for a cruise to the tropics. The yacht is destroyed by fire, and

then the boat is cast upon the coast of Yucatan. They hear of the

wonderful Silver City, of the Chan Santa Cruz Indians, and with the help

of a faithful Indian ally carry off a number of the golden images from

the temples. Pursued with relentless vigor at last their escape is

effected in an astonishing manner. The story is so full of exciting

incidents that the reader is quite carried away with the novelty and

realism of the narrative.

+A Runaway Brig+; or, An Accidental Cruise. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth,

illustrated, price $1.00.

This is a sea tale, and the reader can look out upon the wide shimmering

sea as it flashes back the sunlight, and imagine himself afloat with

Harry Vandyne, Walter Morse, Jim Libby and that old shell-back, Bob

Brace, on the brig Bonita. The boys discover a mysterious document which

enables them to find a buried treasure. They are stranded on an island

and at last are rescued with the treasure. The boys are sure to be

fascinated with this entertaining story.

+The Treasure Finders+: A Boy's Adventures in Nicaragua. By JAMES OTIS.

12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Roy and Dean Coloney, with their guide Tongla, leave their father's

indigo plantation to visit the wonderful ruins of an ancient city. The

boys eagerly explore the temples of an extinct race and discover three

golden images cunningly hidden away. They escape with the greatest

difficulty. Eventually they reach safety with their golden prizes. We

doubt if there ever was written a more entertaining story than "The

Treasure Finders."

+Jack, the Hunchback.+ A Story of the Coast of Maine. By JAMES OTIS. Price

$1.00.

This is the story of a little hunchback who lived on Cape Elizabeth, on

the coast of Maine. His trials and successes are most interesting. From

first to last nothing stays the interest of the narrative. It bears us

along as on a stream whose current varies in direction, but never loses

its force.

+With Washington at Monmouth+: A Story of Three Philadelphia Boys. By

JAMES OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price

$1.50.

Three Philadelphia lads assist the American spies and make regular and

frequent visits to Valley Forge in the Winter while the British occupied

the city. The story abounds with pictures of Colonial life skillfully

drawn, and the glimpses of Washington's soldiers which are given shown

that the work has not been hastily done, or without considerable study.

The story is wholesome and patriotic in tone, as are all of Mr. Otis'

works.

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the

publisher, +A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York+.

BOOKS FOR BOYS.

+With Lafayette at Yorktown+: A Story of How Two Boys Joined the

Continental Army. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges,

illustrated, price $1.50.

Two lads from Portsmouth, N. H., attempt to enlist in the Colonial Army,

and are given employment as spies. There is no lack of exciting

incidents which the youthful reader craves, but it is healthful

excitement brimming with facts which every boy should be familiar with,

and while the reader is following the adventures of Ben Jaffrays and Ned

Allen he is acquiring a fund of historical lore which will remain in his

memory long after that which he has memorized from textbooks has been

forgotten.

+At the Siege of Havana.+ Being the Experiences of Three Boys Serving

under Israel Putnam in 1762. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth,

olivine edges, illustrated, price $1.50.

"At the Siege of Havana" deals with that portion of the island's history

when the English king captured the capital, thanks to the assistance

given by the troops from New England, led in part by Col. Israel Putnam.

The principal characters are Darius Lunt, the lad who, represented as

telling the story, and his comrades, Robert Clement and Nicholas Vallet.

Colonel Putnam also figures to considerable extent, necessarily, in the

tale, and the whole forms one of the most readable stories founded on

historical facts.

+The Defense of Fort Henry.+ A Story of Wheeling Creek in 1777. By JAMES

OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $1.50.

Nowhere in the history of our country can be found more heroic or

thrilling incidents than in the story of those brave men and women who

founded the settlement of Wheeling in the Colony of Virginia. The

recital of what Elizabeth Zane did is in itself as heroic a story as can

be imagined. The wondrous bravery displayed by Major McCulloch and his

gallant comrades, the sufferings of the colonists and their sacrifice of

blood and life, stir the blood of old as well as young readers.

+The Capture of the Laughing Mary.+ A Story of Three New York Boys in

1776. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, price $1.50.

"During the British occupancy of New York, at the outbreak of the

Revolution, a Yankee lad hears of the plot to take General Washington's

person, and calls in two companions to assist the patriot cause. They do

some astonishing things, and, incidentally, lay the way for an American

navy later, by the exploit which gives its name to the work. Mr. Otis'

books are too well known to require any particular commendation to the

young."--+Evening Post.+

+With Warren at Bunker Hill.+ A Story of the Siege of Boston. By JAMES

OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $1.50.

"This is a tale of the siege of Boston, which opens on the day after the

doings at Lexington and Concord, with a description of home life in

Boston, introduces the reader to the British camp at Charlestown, shows

Gen. Warren at home, describes what a boy thought of the battle of

Bunker Hill, and closes with the raising of the siege. The three heroes,

George Wentworth, Ben Scarlett and an old ropemaker, incur the enmity of

a young Tory, who causes them many adventures the boys will like to

read."--+Detroit Free Press.+

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the

publisher, +A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York+.

BOOKS FOR BOYS.

+With the Swamp Fox.+ The Story of General Marion's Spies. By JAMES OTIS.

12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

This story deals with General Francis Marion's heroic struggle in the

Carolinas. General Marion's arrival to take command of these brave men

and rough riders is pictured as a boy might have seen it, and although

the story is devoted to what the lads did, the Swamp Fox is ever present

in the mind of the reader.

+On the Kentucky Frontier.+ A Story of the Fighting Pioneers of the West.

By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.

In the history of our country there is no more thrilling story than that

of the work done on the Mississippi river by a handful of frontiersmen.

Mr. Otis takes the reader on that famous expedition from the arrival of

Major Clarke's force at Corn Island, until Kaskaskia was captured. He

relates that part of Simon Kenton's life history which is not usually

touched upon either by the historian or the story teller. This is one of

the most entertaining books for young people which has been published.

+Sarah Dillard's Ride.+ A Story of South Carolina in 1780. By JAMES OTIS.

12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

"This book deals with the Carolinas in 1780, giving a wealth of detail

of the Mountain Men who struggled so valiantly against the king's

troops. Major Ferguson is the prominent British officer of the story,

which is told as though coming from a youth who experienced these

adventures. In this way the famous ride of Sarah Dillard is brought out

as an incident of the plot."--+Boston Journal.+

+A Tory Plot.+ A Story of the Attempt to Kill General Washington. By JAMES

OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

"'A Tory Plot' is the story of two lads who overhear something of the

plot originated during the Revolution by Gov. Tryon to capture or murder

Washington. They communicate their knowledge to Gen. Putnam and are

commissioned by him to play the role of detectives In the matter. They

do so, and meet with many adventures and hairbreadth escapes. The boys

are, of course, mythical, but they serve to enable the author to put

into very attractive shape much valuable knowledge concerning one phase

of the Revolution."--+Pittsburgh Times.+

+A Traitor's Escape.+ A Story of the Attempt to Seize Benedict Arnold. By

JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

"This is a tale with stirring scenes depicted in each chapter, bringing

clearly before the mind the glorious deeds of the early settlers in this

country. In an historical work dealing with this country's past, no plot

can hold the attention closer than this one, which describes the attempt

and partial success of Benedict Arnold's escape to New York, where he

remained as the guest of Sir Henry Clinton. All those who actually

figured in the arrest of the traitor, as well as Gen. Washington, are

included as characters."--+Albany Union.+

+A Cruise with Paul Jones.+ A Story of Naval Warfare in 1776. By JAMES

OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

"This story takes up that portion of Paul Jones' adventurous life when

he was hovering off the British coast, watching for an opportunity to

strike the enemy a blow. It deals more particularly with his descent

upon Whitehaven, the seizure of Lady Selkirk's plate, and the famous

battle with the Drake. The boy who figures in the tale is one who was

taken from a derelict by Paul Jones shortly after this particular cruise

was begun."--+Chicago Inter-Ocean.+

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the

publisher, +A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York+.

BOOKS FOR BOYS.

+Corporal Lige's Recruit.+ A Story of Crown Point and Ticonderoga. By

JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

"In 'Corporal Lige's Recruit,' Mr. Otis tells the amusing story of an

old soldier, proud of his record, who had served the king in '58, and

who takes the lad, Isaac Rice, as his 'personal recruit.' The lad

acquits himself superbly. Col. Ethan Allen 'in the name of God and the

continental congress,' infuses much martial spirit into the narrative,

which will arouse the keenest interest as it proceeds. Crown Point,

Ticonderoga, Benedict Arnold and numerous other famous historical names

appear in this dramatic tale."--+Boston Globe.+

+Morgan, the Jersey Spy.+ A Story of the Siege of Yorktown in 1781. By

JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

"The two lads who are utilized by the author to emphasize the details of

the work done during that memorable time were real boys who lived on the

banks of the York river, and who aided the Jersey spy in his dangerous

occupation. In the guise of fishermen the lads visit Yorktown, are

suspected of being spies, and put under arrest. Morgan risks his life to

save them. The final escape, the thrilling encounter with a squad of red

coats, when they are exposed equally to the bullets of friends and foes,

told in a masterly fashion, makes of this volume one of the most

entertaining books of the year."--+Inter-Ocean.+

+The Young Scout+: The Story of a West Point Lieutenant. By EDWARD S.

ELLIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

The crafty Apache chief Geronimo but a few years ago was the most

terrible scourge of the southwest border. The author has woven, in a

tale of thrilling interest, all the incidents of Geronimo's last raid.

The hero is Lieutenant James Decker, a recent graduate of West Point.

Ambitious to distinguish himself the young man takes many a desperate

chance against the enemy and on more than one occasion narrowly escapes

with his life. In our opinion Mr. Ellis is the best writer of Indian

stories now before the public.

+Adrift in the Wilds+: The Adventures of Two Shipwrecked Boys. By EDWARD

S. ELLIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Elwood Brandon and Howard Lawrence are en route for San Francisco. Off

the coast of California the steamer takes fire. The two boys reach the

shore with several of the passengers. Young Brandon becomes separated

from his party and is captured by hostile Indians, but is afterwards

rescued. This is a very entertaining narrative of Southern California.

+A Young Hero+; or, Fighting to Win. By EDWARD S. ELLIS. 12mo, cloth,

illustrated, price $1.00.

This story tells how a valuable solid silver service was stolen from the

Misses Perkinpine, two very old and simple minded ladies. Fred Sheldon,

the hero of this story, undertakes to discover the thieves and have them

arrested. After much time spent in detective work, he succeeds in

discovering the silver plate and winning the reward. The story is told

in Mr. Ellis' most fascinating style. Every boy will be glad to read

this delightful book.

+Lost in the Rockies.+ A Story of Adventure in the Rocky Mountains. By

EDWARD S. ELLIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.

Incident succeeds incident, and adventure is piled upon adventure, and

at the end the reader, be he boy or man, will have experienced

breathless enjoyment in this romantic story describing many adventures

in the Rockies and among the Indians.

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the

publisher, +A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York+.

BOOKS FOR BOYS.

+A Jaunt Through Java+: The Story of a Journey to the Sacred Mountain. By

EDWARD S. ELLIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

The interest of this story is found in the thrilling adventures of two

cousins, Hermon and Eustace Hadley, on their trip across the island of

Java, from Samarang to the Sacred Mountain. In a land where the Royal

Bengal tiger, the rhinoceros, and other fierce beasts are to be met

with, it is but natural that the heroes of this book should have a

lively experience. There is not a dull page in the book.

+The Boy Patriot.+ A Story of Jack, the Young Friend of Washington. By

EDWARD S. ELLIS. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $1.50.

"There are adventures of all kinds for the hero and his friends, whose

pluck and ingenuity in extricating themselves from awkward fixes are

always equal to the occasion. It is an excellent story full of honest,

manly, patriotic efforts on the part of the hero. A very vivid

description of the battle of Trenton is also found in this

story."--+Journal of Education.+

+A Yankee Lad's Pluck.+ How Bert Larkin Saved his Father's Ranch in Porto

Rico. By WM. P. CHIPMAN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

"Bert Larkin, the hero of the story, early excites our admiration, and

is altogether a fine character such as boys will delight in, whilst the

story of his numerous adventures is very graphically told. This will, we

think, prove one of the most popular boys' books this season."--+Gazette.+

+A Brave Defense.+ A Story of the Massacre at Fort Griswold in 1781. By

WILLIAM P. CHIPMAN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Perhaps no more gallant fight against fearful odds took place during the

Revolutionary War than that at Fort Griswold, Groton Heights, Conn., in

1781. The boys are real boys who were actually on the muster rolls,

either at Fort Trumbull on the New London side, or of Fort Griswold on

the Groton side of the Thames. The youthful reader who follows Halsey

Sanford and Levi Dart and Tom Malleson, and their equally brave

comrades, through their thrilling adventures will be learning something

more than historical facts; they will be imbibing lessons of fidelity,

of bravery, of heroism, and of manliness, which must prove serviceable

in the arena of life.

+The Young Minuteman.+ A Story of the Capture of General Prescott in 1777.

By WILLIAM P. CHIPMAN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

This story is based upon actual events which occurred during the British

occupation of the waters of Narragansett Bay. Darius Wale and William

Northrop belong to "the coast patrol." The story is a strong one,

dealing only with actual events. There is, however, no lack of thrilling

adventure, and every lad who is fortunate enough to obtain the book will

find not only that his historical knowledge is increased, but that his

own patriotism and love of country are deepened.

+For the Temple+: A Tale of the Fall of Jerusalem. By G. A. HENTY. With

illustrations by S. J. SOLOMON. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00.

"Mr. Henty's graphic prose picture of the hopeless Jewish resistance to

Roman sway adds another leaf to his record of the famous wars of the

world. The book is one of Mr. Henty's cleverest efforts."--+Graphic.+

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the

publisher, +A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York+.

BOOKS FOR BOYS.

+Roy Gilbert's Search+: A Tale of the Great Lakes. By WM. P. CHIPMAN.

12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

A deep mystery hangs over the parentage of Roy Gilbert. He arranges with

two schoolmates to make a tour of the Great Lakes on a steam launch. The

three boys visit many points of interest on the lakes. Afterwards the

lads rescue an elderly gentleman and a lady from a sinking yacht. Later

on the boys narrowly escape with their lives. The hero is a manly,

self-reliant boy, whose adventures will be followed with interest.

+The Slate Picker+: The Story of a Boy's Life in the Coal Mines. By HARRY

PRENTICE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

This is a story of a boy's life in the coal mines of Pennsylvania. Ben

Burton, the hero, had a hard road to travel, but by grit and energy he

advanced step by step until he found himself called upon to fill the

position of chief engineer of the Kohinoor Coal Company. This is a book

of extreme interest to every boy reader.

+The Boy Cruisers+; or, Paddling in Florida. By ST. GEORGE RATHBORNE.

12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00

Andrew George and Rowland Carter start on a canoe trip along the Gulf

coast, from Key West to Tampa, Florida. Their first adventure is with a

pair of rascals who steal their boats. Next they run into a gale in the

Gulf. After that they have a lively time with alligators and Andrew gets

into trouble with a band of Seminole Indians. Mr. Rathborne knows just

how to interest the boys, and lads who are in search of a rare treat

will do well to read this entertaining story.

+Captured by Zulus+: A Story of Trapping in Africa. By HARRY PRENTICE.

12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

This story details the adventures of two lads, Dick Elsworth and Bob

Harvey, in the wilds of South Africa. By stratagem the Zulus capture

Dick and Bob and take them to their principal kraal or village. The lads

escape death by digging their way out of the prison hut by night. They

are pursued, but the Zulus finally give up pursuit. Mr. Prentice tells

exactly how wild-beast collectors secure specimens on their native

stamping grounds, and these descriptions make very entertaining reading.

+Tom the Ready+; or, Up from the Lowest. By RANDOLPH HILL. 12mo, cloth,

illustrated, price $1.00.

This is a dramatic narrative of the unaided rise of a fearless,

ambitious boy from the lowest round of fortune's ladder to wealth and

the governorship of his native State. Tom Seacomb begins life with a

purpose, and eventually overcomes those who oppose him. How he manages

to win the battle is told by Mr. Hill in a masterful way that thrills

the reader and holds his attention and sympathy to the end.

+Captain Kidd's Gold+: The True Story of an Adventurous Sailor Boy. By

JAMES FRANKLIN FITTS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

There is something fascinating to the average youth in the very idea of

buried treasure. A vision arises before his eyes of swarthy Portuguese

and Spanish rascals, with black beards and gleaming eyes. There were

many famous sea rovers, but none more celebrated than Capt. Kidd. Paul

Jones Garry inherits a document which locates a considerable treasure

buried by two of Kidd's crew. The hero of this book is an ambitious,

persevering lad, of salt-water New England ancestry, and his efforts to

reach the island and secure the money form one of the most absorbing

tales for our youth that has come from the press.

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the

publisher, +A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York+.

BOOKS FOR BOYS.

+The Boy Explorers+: The Adventures of Two Boys in Alaska. By HARRY

PRENTICE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Two boys, Raymond and Spencer Manning, travel to Alaska to join their

father in search of their uncle. On their arrival at Sitka the boys with

an Indian guide set off across the mountains. The trip is fraught with

perils that test the lads' courage to the utmost. All through their

exciting adventures the lads demonstrate what can be accomplished by

pluck and resolution, and their experience makes one of the most

interesting tales ever written.

+The Island Treasure+; or, Harry Darrel's Fortune. By FRANK H. CONVERSE.

12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Harry Darrel, having received a nautical training on a school-ship, is

bent on going to sea. A runaway horse changes his prospects. Harry saves

Dr. Gregg from drowning and afterward becomes sailing-master of a sloop

yacht. Mr. Converse's stories possess a charm of their own which is

appreciated by lads who delight in good healthy tales that smack of salt

water.

+Guy Harris+: The Runaway. By HARRY CASTLEMON. 12mo, cloth, illustrated,

price $1.00.

Guy Harris lived in a small city on the shore of one of the Great Lakes.

He is persuaded to go to sea, and gets a glimpse of the rough side of

life in a sailor's boarding house. He ships on a vessel and for five

months leads a hard life. The book will interest boys generally on

account of its graphic style. This is one of Castlemon's most attractive

stories.

+Julian Mortimer+: A Brave Boy's Struggle for Home and Fortune. By HARRY

CASTLEMON. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.

The scene of the story lies west of the Mississippi River, in the days

when emigrants made their perilous way across the great plains to the

land of gold. There is an attack upon the wagon train by a large party

of Indians. Our hero is lad of uncommon nerve and pluck. Befriended by a

stalwart trapper, a real rough diamond, our hero achieves the most happy

results.

+By Pike and Dyke+: A Tale of the Rise of the Dutch Republic. By G. A.

HENTY. With illustrations by MAYNARD BROWN. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges,

price $1.00.

"Boys with a turn for historical research will be enchanted with the

book, while the rest who only care for adventure will be students in

spite of themselves."--+St. James's Gazette.+

+St. George for England+: A Tale of Cressy and Poitiers. By G. A. HENTY.

With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price

$1.00.

"A story of very great interest for boys. In his own forcible style the

author has endeavored to show that determination and enthusiasm can

accomplish marvellous results; and that courage is generally accompanied

by magnanimity and gentleness."--+Pall Mall Gazette.+

+Captain Bayley's Heir+: A Tale of the Gold Fields of California. By G. A.

HENTY. With illustrations by H. M. PAGET. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges,

price $1.00.

"Mr. Henty is careful to mingle instruction with entertainment; and the

humorous touches, especially in the sketch of John Holl, the Westminster

dustman, Dickens himself could hardly have excelled."--+Christian Leader.+

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the

publisher, +A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York+.

BOOKS FOR BOYS.

+Budd Boyd's Triumph+; or, The Boy Firm of Fox Island. By WILLIAM P.

CHIPMAN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

The scene of this story is laid on the upper part of Narragansett Bay,

and the leading incidents have a strong salt-water flavor. The two boys,

Budd Boyd and Judd Floyd, being ambitious and clear sighted, form a

partnership to catch and sell fish. Budd's pluck and good sense carry

him through many troubles. In following the career of the boy firm of

Boyd & Floyd, the youthful reader will find a useful lesson--that

industry and perseverance are bound to lead to ultimate success.

+Lost in the Canyon+: Sam Willett's Adventures on the Great Colorado. By

ALFRED R. CALHOUN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.

This story hinges on a fortune left to Sam Willett, the hero, and the

fact that it will pass to a disreputable relative if the lad dies before

he shall have reached his majority. The story of his father's peril and

of Sam's desperate trip down the great canyon on a raft, and how the

party finally escape from their perils is described in a graphic Style

that stamps Mr. Calhoun as a master of his art.

+Captured by Apes+: The Wonderful Adventures of a Young Animal Trainer. By

HARRY PRENTICE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Philip Garland, a young animal collector and trainer, sets sail for

Eastern seas in quest of a new stock of living curiosities. The vessel

is wrecked off the coast of Borneo, and young Garland is cast ashore on

a small island, and captured by the apes that overrun the place. Very

novel indeed is the way by which the young man escapes death. Mr.

Prentice is a writer of undoubted skill.

+Under Drake's Flag+: A Tale of the Spanish Main. By G. A. HENTY. With

illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00.

"There is not a dull chapter, nor, indeed, a dull page in the book; but

the author has so carefully worked up his subject that the exciting

deeds of his heroes are never incongruous nor absurd."--+Observer.+

+By Sheer Pluck+: A Tale of the Ashanti War. By G. A. HENTY. With

illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00.

The author has woven, in a tale of thrilling interest, all the details

of the Ashanti campaign, of which he was himself a witness.

"Mr. Henty keeps up his reputation as a writer of boys' stories. 'By

Sheer Pluck' will be eagerly read."--+Athenæum.+

+With Lee in Virginia+: A Story of the American Civil War. By G. A. HENTY.

With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price

$1.00.

"One of the best stories for lads which Mr. Henty has yet written. The

picture is full of life and color, and the stirring and romantic

incidents are skillfully blended with the personal interest and charm of

the story."--+Standard.+

+By England's Aid+; or, The Freeing of the Netherlands (1585-1604). By G.

A. HENTY. With illustrations by ALFRED PEARSE. 12mo, cloth, olivine

edges, price $1.00.

"It is an admirable book for youngsters. It overflows with stirring

incident and exciting adventure, and the color of the era and of the

scene are finely reproduced. The illustrations add to its

attractiveness."--+Boston Gazette.+

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the

publisher, +A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York+.

BOOKS FOR BOYS.

+By Right of Conquest+; or, With Cortez in Mexico. By G. A. HENTY. With

illustrations by W. S. STACEY. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.50.

"The conquest of Mexico by a small band of resolute men under the

magnificent leadership of Cortez is always rightfully ranked among the

most romantic and daring exploits in history. 'By Right of Conquest' is

the nearest approach to a perfectly successful historical tale that Mr.

Henty has yet published."--+Academy.+

+For Name and Fame+; or, Through Afghan Passes. By G. A. HENTY. With

illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00.

"Not only a rousing story, replete with all the varied forms of

excitement of a campaign, but, what is still more useful, an account of

a territory and its inhabitants which must for a long time possess a

supreme interest for Englishmen, as being the key to our Indian

Empire."--+Glasgow Herald.+

+The Bravest of the Brave+; or, With Peterborough in Spain. By G. A.

HENTY. With illustrations by H. M. PAGET. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges,

price $1.00.

"Mr. Henty never loses sight of the moral purpose of his work--to

enforce the doctrine of courage and truth, mercy and loving kindness, as

indispensable to the making of a gentleman. Boys will read. 'The Bravest

of the Brave' with pleasure and profit; of that we are quite

sure."--+Daily Telegraph.+

+The Cat of Bubastes+: A Story of Ancient Egypt. By G. A. HENTY. With

illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00.

"The story, from the critical moment of the killing of the sacred cat to

the perilous exodus into Asia with which it closes, is very skillfully

constructed and full of exciting adventures. It is admirably

illustrated."--+Saturday Review.+

+Bonnie Prince Charlie+: A Tale of Fontenoy and Culloden. By G. A. HENTY.

With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price

$1.00.

"Ronald, the hero, is very like the hero of 'Quentin Durward.' The lad's

journey across France, and his hairbreadth escapes, makes up as good a

narrative of the kind as we have ever read. For freshness of treatment

and variety of incident Mr. Henty has surpassed himself."--+Spectator.+

+With Clive in India+; or, The Beginnings of an Empire. By G. A. HENTY.

With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price

$1.00.

"He has taken a period of Indian history of the most vital importance,

and he has embroidered on the historical facts a story which of itself

is deeply interesting. Young people assuredly will be delighted with the

volume."--+Scotsman.+

+In the Reign of Terror+: The Adventures of a Westminster Boy. By G. A.

HENTY. With illustrations by J. SCHÖNBERG. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges,

price $1.00.

"Harry Sandwith, the Westminster boy, may fairly be said to beat Mr.

Henty's record. His adventures will delight boys by the audacity and

peril they depict. The story is one of Mr. Henty's best."--+Saturday

Review.+

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the

publisher, +A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York+.

BOOKS FOR BOYS.

+The Lion of the North+: A Tale of Gustavus Adolphus and the Wars of

Religion. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by JOHN SCHÖNBERG. 12mo,

cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00.

"A praiseworthy attempt to interest British youth in the great deeds of

the Scotch Brigade in the wars of Gustavus Adolphus. Mackey, Hepburn,

and Munro live again in Mr. Henty's pages, as those deserve to live

whose disciplined bands formed really the germ of the modern British

army."--+Athenæum.+

+The Dragon and the Raven+; or, The Days of King Alfred. By G. A. HENTY.

With illustrations by C. J. STANILAND. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price

$1.00.

"In this story the author gives an account of the fierce struggle

between Saxon and Dane for supremacy in England, and presents a vivid

picture of the misery and ruin to which the country was reduced by the

ravages of the sea-wolves. The story is treated in a manner most

attractive to the boyish reader."--+Athenæum.+

+The Young Carthaginian+: A Story of the Times of Hannibal. By G. A.

HENTY. With illustrations by C. J. STANILAND. 12mo, cloth, olivine

edges, price $1.00.

"Well constructed and vividly told. From first to last nothing stays the

interest of the narrative. It bears us along as on a stream whose

current varies in direction, but never loses its force."--+Saturday

Review.+

+In Freedom's Cause+: A Story of Wallace and Bruce. By G. A. HENTY. With

illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00.

"It is written in the author's best style. Full of the wildest and most

remarkable achievements, it is a tale of great interest, which a boy,

once he has begun it, will not willingly put one side."--+The

Schoolmaster.+

+With Wolfe in Canada+; or, The Winning of a Continent. By G. A. HENTY.

With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price

$1.00.

"A model of what a boys' story-book should be. Mr. Henty has a great

power of infusing into the dead facts of history new life, and as no

pains are spared by him to ensure accuracy In historic details, his

books supply useful aids to study as well as amusement."--+School

Guardian.+

+True to the Old Flag+: A Tale of the American War of Independence. By G.

A. HENTY. With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, olivine

edges, price $1.00.

"Does justice to the pluck and determination of the British soldiers

during the unfortunate struggle against American emancipation. The son

of an American loyalist, who remains true to our flag, falls among the

hostile red-skins in that very Huron country which has been endeared to

us by the exploits of Hawkeye and Chingachgook."--+The Times.+

+A Final Reckoning+: A Tale of Bush Life in Australia. By G. A. HENTY.

With illustrations by W. B. WOLLEN. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price

$1.00.

"All boys will read this story with eager and unflagging interest. The

episodes are in Mr. Henty's very best vein--graphic, exciting,

realistic; and, as in all Mr. Henty's books, the tendency is to the

formation of an honorable, manly, and even heroic

character."--+Birmingham Post.+

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the

publisher, +A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York+.

BOOKS FOR BOYS.

+The Lion of St. Mark+: A Tale of Venice in the Fourteenth Century. By G.

A. HENTY. With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, olivine

edges, price $1.00.

"Every boy should read 'The Lion of St. Mark.' Mr. Henty has never

produced a story more delightful, more wholesome, or more

vivacious."--+Saturday Review.+

+Facing Death+; or, The Hero of the Vaughan Pit. A Tale of the Coal Mines.

By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth,

olivine edges, price $1.00.

"The tale is well written and well illustrated, and there is much

reality in the characters. If any father, clergyman, or schoolmaster is

on the lookout for a good book to give as a present to a boy who is

worth his salt, this is the book we would recommend."--+Standard.+

+Maori and Settler+: A Story of the New Zealand War. By G. A. HENTY. With

illustrations by ALFRED PEARSE. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00.

"In the adventures among the Maoris, there are many breathless moments

in which the odds seem hopelessly against the party, but they succeed in

establishing themselves happily in one of the pleasant New Zealand

valleys. It is brimful of adventure, of humorous and interesting

conversation, and vivid pictures of colonial life."--+Schoolmaster.+

+One of the 28th+: A Tale of Waterloo. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations

by W. H. OVEREND. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00.

"Written with Homeric vigor and heroic inspiration. It is graphic,

picturesque, and dramatically effective ... shows us Mr. Henty at his

best and brightest. The adventures will hold a boy enthralled as he

rushes through them with breathless interest 'from cover to

cover.'"--+Observer.+

+Orange and Green+: A Tale of the Boyne and Limerick. By G. A. HENTY. With

illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00.

"The narrative is free from the vice of prejudice, and ripples with life

as if what is being described were really passing before the

eye."--+Belfast News-Letter.+

+Through the Fray+: A Story of the Luddite Riots. By G. A. HENTY. With

illustrations by H. M. PAGET. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00.

"Mr. Henty inspires a love and admiration for straightforwardness, truth

and courage. This is one of the best of the many good books Mr. Henty

has produced, and deserves to be classed with his 'Facing

Death.'"--+Standard.+

+The Young Midshipman+: A Story of the Bombardment of Alexandria. With

illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00.

A coast fishing lad, by an act of heroism, secures the interest of a

shipowner, who places him as an apprentice on board one of his ships. In

company with two of his fellow-apprentices he is left behind, at

Alexandria, in the hands of the revolted Egyptian troops, and is present

through the bombardment and the scenes of riot and bloodshed which

accompanied it.

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the

publisher, +A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York+.

BOOKS FOR BOYS.

+In Times of Peril.+ A Tale of India. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations.

12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00.

"The hero of the story early excites our admiration, and is altogether a

fine character such as boys will delight in, whilst the story of the

campaign is very graphically told."--+St. James's Gazette.+

+The Cornet of Horse+: A Tale of Marlborough's Wars. By G. A. HENTY. With

illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.

"Mr. Henty not only concocts a thrilling tale, he weaves fact and

fiction together with so skillful a hand that the reader cannot help

acquiring a just and clear view of that fierce and terrible struggle

known as the Crimean War."--+Athenæum.+

+The Young Franc-Tireurs+: Their Adventures in the Franco-Prussian War. By

G. A. HENTY. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price

$1.00.

"A capital book for boys. It is bright and readable, and full of good

sense and manliness. It teaches pluck and patience in adversity, and

shows that right living leads to success."--+Observer.+

+The Young Colonists+: A Story of Life and War in South Africa. By G. A.

HENTY. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00.

"No boy needs to have any story of Henty's recommended to him, and

parents who do not know and buy them for their boys should be ashamed of

themselves. Those to whom he is yet unknown could not make a better

beginning than with this book."

+The Young Buglers.+ A Tale of the Peninsular War. By G. A. HENTY. With

illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.

"Mr. Henty is a giant among boys' writers, and his books are

sufficiently popular to be sure of a welcome anywhere. In stirring

interest, this is quite up to the level of Mr. Henty's former historical

tales."--+Saturday Review.+

+Sturdy and Strong+; or, How George Andrews Made his Way. By G. A. HENTY.

With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00.

"The history of a hero of everyday life, whose love of truth, clothing

of modesty, and innate pluck, carry him, naturally, from poverty to

affluence. George Andrews is an example of character with nothing to

cavil at, and stands as a good instance of chivalry in domestic

life."--+The Empire.+

+Among Malay Pirates.+ A Story of Adventure and Peril. By G. A. HENTY.

With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00.

"Incident succeeds incident, and adventure is piled upon adventure, and

at the end the reader, be he boy or man, will have experienced

breathless enjoyment in a romantic story that must have taught him much

at its close."--+Army and Navy Gazette.+

+Jack Archer.+ A Tale of the Crimea. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations.

12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00.

"Mr. Henty not only concocts a thrilling tale, he weaves fact and

fiction together with so skillful a hand that the reader cannot help

acquiring a just and clear view of that fierce and terrible

struggle."--+Athenæum.+

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the

publisher, +A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York+.

* * * * * *

Trancriber's note:

A Table of Contents has been added.