THE YACHT LOOKOUT.
“I am disposed of at last, am I? I rather think not. I have the free use
of my hands and feet, and if there’s any opening in this state-room large
enough for a squirrel to squeeze through, I shall be out of here in less
than five minutes. There’s the transom; I’ll try that.”
Thus spoke Fred Craven, who, with his hands in his pockets, was standing
in the middle of his new prison, listening to the retreating footsteps
of the men who had just placed him there. He had heard Captain Conway’s
sigh of relief, and caught the words he uttered when the door was locked
upon him, and his soliloquy showed what he thought of the matter. He had
not met with a single adventure during his captivity among the smugglers.
Shorty after the Stella sailed from Lost Island he was released from the
hold, and allowed the freedom of the deck. He messed with the crew,
and, for want of some better way of passing the time, performed the
duties of foremast hand as regularly and faithfully as though he had
shipped for the voyage. He saw nothing of Mr. Bell, who remained in his
cabin day and night, and had but little to say to any of the schooner’s
company. His mind was constantly occupied with thoughts of escape, and
on more than one occasion, during the silence of the mid-watch, had he
crept stealthily from his bunk in the forecastle and taken his stand
by the rail, looking out at the angry waves which tossed the schooner
so wildly about, hardly able to resist an insane desire to seize a
life-buoy or handspike and spring into them. But prudence always stepped
in in time to prevent him from doing anything rash, and finally curbing
his impatience as well as he could he accepted the situation, working
hard to keep his thoughts from wandering back to his home and friends,
and constantly cheered by the hope that when once the shores of Cuba
were sighted something would turn up in his favor. But he was doomed to
disappointment. No sooner had the headlands at the entrance to the harbor
of Port Platte appeared in view than he was ordered into the hold by
Captain Conway, and secured beyond all possibility of escape. In the
afternoon, however, he was again brought out, and, after listening to a
long speech from Mr. Bell, the object of which was to make known to him
the fact that he was to be taken ashore, and that his bodily comfort
depended upon his observing the strictest silence, he was compelled to
accompany him and the captain up the hill toward the village.
Featherweight thought he was now about to be turned over to the Spanish
sea-captain, and so he was (only the captain, as it turned out, was an
American who, for money, had undertaking to land Fred in some remote
corner of the world); but first he had a part to perform, and that was
to entice the crew of the Banner ashore in pursuit of him. As he slowly
mounted the hill, he cast his eyes toward the Gulf, thinking the while
of the quiet, pleasant little home, and the loving hearts he had left so
far beyond it, and was greatly astonished to see a vessel, which looked
exactly like the Banner, coming in. He did not know what had happened in
the cove at Lost Island, and neither had he dreamed that Walter and his
crew, bent on releasing him, had followed him for more than six hundred
miles through a storm, the like of which they had never experienced
before. He had not now the faintest idea that such was the case. What
then must have been his amazement when he saw the vessel which had
attracted his attention, haul suddenly into the shore and deposit Walter
and Perk on the wharf? He saw the two boys as they followed him up the
hill, and waved his handkerchief to them; and knowing just how courageous
and determined they were, made up his mind that the moment of his
deliverance was not far distant. But once more his hopes were dashed to
the ground. His captors concealed themselves and him in a doorway until
the pursuers had passed, and then the captain conducted him on board the
ship and gave him into the hands of his new jailer. But Fred was resolved
that he would not stay there. The ship was lying alongside the wharf; he
was not bound, and if he could only work his way out of the state-room,
it would be an easy matter to jump through one of the cabin windows
into the water, and strike out for shore. The knowledge that there were
friends at no great distance, ready and willing to assist him, encouraged
him to make the attempt. There was not a moment to be lost. Mr. Bell had
taken up more than two hours by his manœuvres on shore; it was beginning
to grow dark, the captain and all his crew were busy getting the ship
under way, and the effort must be made before she left the wharf.
The first thing to which Fred directed his attention, was the transom—a
narrow window over the door, opening into the cabin—and the next, a huge
sea-chest which was stowed away under the bunk. To drag this chest from
its place, and tip it upon one end under the transom, was an operation
which did not occupy many minutes of time. When he sprang upon it, he
found that his head was on a level with the window. There was no one in
the cabin. With a beating heart he turned the button, but that was as
far as he could go—an obstacle appeared. His new jailer had neglected no
precautions for his safe keeping, for the transom was screwed down.
“Well, what of it?” soliloquized Featherweight, not in the least
disheartened by this discovery. “There’s more than one way to do things.
I have the advantage of being smaller than most fellows of my age, and I
can make my way through cracks in which an ordinary boy would stick fast.
I believe I could even get through the key-hole, if it was just a trifle
larger.”
While he was speaking he took his knife from his pocket, and attacked the
putty with which one of the window-panes was secured. After a few quick
passes it was all removed, and placing the blade of his knife beneath
the glass, Featherweight forced it out of its place, and carefully laid
it upon the chest. The opening thus made was not more than nine inches
long and six wide, but it was large enough to admit the passage of Fred’s
little body, with some space to spare. After again reconnoitering the
cabin, he thrust one of his legs through, then the other, and after a
little squirming and some severe scratches from the sharp edges of the
sash, he dropped down upon his feet. No sooner was he fairly landed
than he ran to one of the stern windows of the cabin, threw it open,
and without an instant’s hesitation plunged into the water. But he did
not strike out for the wharf as he had intended to do, for something
caught his attention as he was descending through the air, and riveted
his gaze. It was a large yacht, which was slowly passing up the harbor.
He looked at her a moment, and then, with a cry of delight, swam toward
her with all the speed he was capable of; but, before he had made a
dozen strokes, a hoarse ejaculation from some one on the deck of the ship
announced that he was discovered. He looked up, and saw the master of the
vessel bending over the rail. “Good-bye, old fellow!” shouted Fred. “I’ve
changed my mind. I’ll not take passage with you this trip. If it is all
the same to you I’ll wait until the next.”
For a moment the captain’s astonishment was so great that he could
neither move nor speak. He could not understand how his prisoner had
effected his escape, after the care he had taken to secure him; and while
he was thinking about it, Fred was improving every second of the time,
and making astonishing headway through the water. The captain was not
long in discovering this, and then he began to bustle about the deck in a
state of great excitement.
“Avast there!” he cried. “Come back here, or I will wear a rope’s end out
on you.” Then seeing that the swimmer paid no attention to his threat, he
turned to his crew and ordered some of them to follow him into the yawl,
which was made fast to the stern of the ship.
Fred heard the command and swam faster than ever, stopping now and then,
however, to raise himself as far as he could out of the water, and wave
his hand toward the yacht. He tried to shout, but his excitement seemed
to have taken away his voice, for he could not utter a syllable. But
for all that he was seen, and his discovery seemed to produce no little
commotion on the deck of the yacht. Several of her crew, led by a short,
powerful-looking man, who wore a jaunty tarpaulin and wide collar, and
carried a spy-glass in his hand, rushed to the rail; and the latter,
after levelling his glass first at him and then at the ship, turned
and issued some orders in a voice so loud and clear that Featherweight
caught every word. There was no mistaking that voice or those shoulders,
and neither was there any mistake possible in regard to the yacht, for
there never was another like her. She was the Lookout; the man with the
broad shoulders and stentorian voice was Uncle Dick; and of those who
accompanied him to the side one was Fred’s own father. The yacht at once
changed her course and stood toward the fugitive, and the bustle on her
deck and the rapid orders that were issued, told him that her boat was
being manned. Would it arrive before the yawl that was now putting off
from the ship? Featherweight asked and answered this question in the
same breath. As far as he was concerned it made no difference whether it
did or not. His father had not followed him clear to Cuba to see another
man make a prisoner of him, and as he was backed up by Uncle Dick and his
crew, the matter could end in but one way.
“In bow!” commanded a stern voice behind him a few seconds later.
“Parker, stand up, and fasten into his collar with the boat-hook.”
The sharp, hissing sound which a boat makes when passing rapidly through
the water, fell upon Fred’s ear at this moment, and looking over his
shoulder, he found the ship’s yawl close upon him. He saw the bowman draw
in his oar, and rise to his feet with the boat-hook in his hand, and an
instant afterward his collar was drawn tight about his neck, his progress
suddenly stopped, and then he was pulled back through the water and
hauled into the yawl.
“I’ll teach you to obey orders, my lad,” said the captain, as he pushed
Featherweight roughly down upon one of the thwarts. “I’ll show you that
a boy who comes aboard my vessel of his own free will, and ships for a
voyage, and receives his advance fair and square, can’t desert when he
feels so inclined. You’ll sup sorrow for this.”
This remark was doubtless made for the benefit of the yawl’s crew, none
of whom were aware of the circumstances under which Fred had been brought
on board the ship. The prisoner made no reply, but took his seat with the
utmost composure, wiped the water from his face and looked toward the
yacht. Her boat was just coming in sight around her stern. It was pulled
by a sturdy crew, who bent to the oars as if they meant business. In the
stern sheets sat Uncle Dick and Mr. Craven.
“I wonder what that schooner’s boat is out for,” said the captain,
suddenly becoming aware that he was pursued.
“I suppose they saw me in the water, and thought they would pick me up,”
observed Featherweight.
“Well, you are picked up already, and they can go back and attend to
their own business. You belong to me.”
The captain said this in an indifferent tone, and settled back in his
seat as if he had disposed of the matter; but it was plain that he was
very much interested in the proceedings of the boat behind him. Now
that the swimmer was picked up, he looked to see her turn back; but
she did nothing of the kind. She came straight on in the wake of his
yawl, and gained with every stroke of her crew. The captain’s interest
presently became uneasiness; and when at last the pursuing boat dashed
up alongside, and her crew seized the gunwale of his yawl, his face was
white with alarm. The instant the two boats touched, Fred was on his
feet, and the next, his father’s arms were about him. The captain heard
the words “Father!” and “My son!” and then his under jaw dropped down,
and his eyes seemed ready to start from their sockets. But he tried
to keep up some show of courage and authority. “Hold on, there!” he
exclaimed. “Hand that boy back here. He is one of my crew, who is trying
to desert me.”
“We happen to know a story worth two of that,” said Uncle Dick, eying the
captain until the latter quailed under his stern glance. “That boy is my
friend’s son. I’ll trouble you to step into this boat.”
“Is he, really?” said the captain, pretending not to hear Uncle Dick’s
order. “In that case I will let him off for a consideration.”
“All the money you will receive for your share in this business, has
been paid to you by Mr. Bell, whom we shall have arrested in less than
ten minutes. Step into this boat.”
“What for?”
“Because we have use for you.”
“And what if I don’t choose to do it?”
“Then I shall take you up bodily and throw you in,” said the old sailor,
rising to his feet in just the right mood to carry his threat into
execution.
“If you don’t wish to suffer with your employer,” said Mr. Craven, who
was much calmer than any one else in Uncle Dick’s boat, “you had better
come with us peaceably.”
The captain protested, and tried to assume a look of injured innocence,
but it did not avail him. The two stern-looking men who were confronting
him would not be denied, and Fred’s jailer finally stepped into Uncle
Dick’s boat, and was carried on board the yacht, while his own crew, who
had listened with wonder to all that passed, pulled back to the ship.
There were twenty men on board the Lookout, all old friends of Uncle
Dick and Mr. Craven, who had volunteered to act as the crew, and assist
in rescuing the prisoner if they overtook the smugglers, and these came
forward in a body to welcome Fred as he sprang over the side. As he was
handed about from one to another, hurried inquiries were made concerning
the crew of the Banner, but Featherweight had no information to give. He
had seen but two of them since his capture by the smugglers, and they had
remained in sight scarcely more than five minutes. Where they went after
they disappeared from his view, and what they did, he had no means of
knowing.
“Never mind,” said Uncle Dick. “We are after a gentleman who knows all
about it; and we intend to make him tell, too.”
The gentleman referred to was of course Mr. Bell. He saw the Lookout when
she came into the harbor, and her appearance was all that was needed to
show him that his affairs were getting into a desperate state. His game
of deception was over now. He might prove more than a match for half a
dozen inexperienced boys, but he knew that in the crew of the yacht, and
especially in her commander and his brother, he would find his equals.
He saw all that happened when Uncle Dick’s boat came up with that of the
captain of the ship; and when the latter gentleman was carried away a
prisoner, and the yacht once more began to move up the harbor, directing
her course toward the place where the Stella lay, he knew that it was
high time he was bestirring himself. Without saying a word to any one,
he jumped ashore, and made his way along the wharf. It was now dark,
and although Mr. Bell could scarcely see or think of anything but the
Lookout, he did not fail to discover something which made it clear to him
that Uncle Dick and his friends had been wasting no time since they came
into the harbor. It was a squad of soldiers who were marching quickly
along the wharf, led by Mr. Gaylord, Mr. Chase, and a custom-house
officer with whom he was well acquainted. As they had not seen him, Mr.
Bell easily avoided them, and as soon as they passed, hurried through the
gate and up the hill out of sight. Had he waited to see what they were
going to do, he would have found that they boarded his vessel from one
side, at the same moment that the crew of the Lookout came pouring over
the other.
“Now, then, Mr. Officer,” said Walter’s father, as he sprang upon the
Stella’s deck, “here she is. Doesn’t she look more like a smuggler than
that little yacht? Hallo! Here’s somebody who can tell us all about
her,” he added, seizing Fred’s hand and shaking it so cordially, that the
boy felt the effects of his grip for half an hour afterward.
“I can show you where the arms and ammunition are,” replied
Featherweight, “and I suppose that’s what you want to know. I am sorry to
say that I can’t tell you anything about Walter and the rest,” he added,
in reply to Mr. Gaylord’s question. “Find Mr. Bell and Captain Conway,
and make them tell.”
At this moment, the master of the Stella appeared at the top of the
companion ladder. Hearing the noise made by the boarding parties, he had
come up to see what was the matter. One look must have been enough for
him, for, without making a single inquiry, he turned and went down into
his cabin again.
The first duty of the officer in command of the soldiers, was to direct
that no one should be allowed to leave the vessel, and his second to
accompany Fred Craven into the hold. Since the boy had last been there,
the cargo had been broken out and stowed again, so as to conceal the
secret hatchway; but Fred knew just where to find it, and there were
men enough close at hand to remove the heavy boxes and hogsheads that
covered it. In a very few minutes, a space was cleared in the middle of
the hold, an axe was brought by one of the party, and the hatch forced
up, disclosing to view the interior of the prison in which Fred had
passed many a gloomy hour. The officer opened his eyes in surprise at the
sight he beheld. He made an examination of the contents of a few of the
boxes and bales, all of which were consigned to Don Casper Nevis, and
then hurrying on deck, ordered every one of the crew of the Stella under
arrest. The principal man, however, and the one he was most anxious to
secure, was nowhere to be found. A thorough search of the town and the
roads leading from it was at once ordered, all the crew of the Lookout
volunteering to assist, except Uncle Dick and the other relatives of the
missing boys, who went into the cabin to question Captain Conway. They
were not as successful in their attempts to gain information as they had
hoped to be. The captain, thoroughly cowed and anxious to propitiate his
captors, answered all their inquiries as well as he could, and revealed
to them the plans Mr. Bell had that afternoon put into operation. He
knew that the Banner had been stolen by Pierre and the deserters, who
intended to go to Havana in her, but he could not tell what had become of
the boys. Chase and Wilson had been decoyed out to Don Casper’s house by
a note which they thought came from Walter, and no doubt they were still
there. Perhaps, too, they knew where the rest of the missing crew could
be found.
While the conversation was going on, the party in the cabin heard the
roar of the guns of the fort, and saw the frigate get under way and
leave the harbor. This was enough to put Uncle Dick and his friends on
nettles. They did not want to remain there inactive, while the Banner
was in danger (how greatly would their anxiety have been increased, had
they known that Walter and his companions were in as much danger, at
that moment, as those who stole their vessel), but their crew were all
ashore looking for Mr. Bell, and so was the custom-house officer, and
they were obliged to await their return. At the end of an hour, their
suspense was relieved by the arrival of the official and some of the
Lookout’s company. Their search had been successful—the fugitive leader
of the smugglers having been overtaken and captured while on his way to
Don Casper’s house. The officers had pumped him most effectually, and
learning that he had been deceived as to the character of the Banner,
and that the precautions he had taken to prevent her leaving the port,
would most likely insure her destruction, he was anxious to do all in his
power to save her. He readily complied with Uncle Dick’s request to sail
with him in pursuit of the frigate, and greatly relieved the fears of Mr.
Chase, by assuring him that what he had heard from Mr. Bell, made him
confident that his son would be found at Don Casper’s.
The rescued boy was the hero of the hour. While the Lookout was flying
over the Gulf toward the bay at the rear of the Don’s plantation, he
was entertaining a group of eager listeners by recounting the various
exciting events that had happened since the day of the “Wild Hog Hunt.”
But it was not long before he was obliged to give place to those who had
adventures more exciting than his own to relate. The officer of the deck,
whom Uncle Dick had instructed to keep a lookout for the frigate, came
down to report that there were lights ahead: and that, although but a
short distance away, they had only just appeared in view—a fact which,
according to his way of thinking, proved something.
“It does, indeed,” said the custom-house officer. “Why should a vessel be
under way on such a night as this without showing lights? She’s another
smuggler. Captain, you will oblige me by going as close to her as you
can.”
If the approaching vessel was engaged in honest business she was
certainly acting in a very suspicious manner. So thought Uncle Dick,
after he had watched her lights for a few minutes. She stood first on
one tack, and then on the other, as if trying to dodge the Lookout, and
this made the old sailor all the more determined that she should not do
it. He kept his vessel headed as straight for her as she could go; the
custom-house official stood by, rubbing his hands in great glee, and
telling himself that another smuggler’s course was almost run; and the
crew leaned over the rail, straining their eyes through the darkness, and
waiting impatiently to obtain the first glimpse of the stranger. She came
into view at last—a modest-looking little craft, with two boys perched
upon the main cross-trees, busy with a broken topmast. The old sailor and
his brother started as if they had been shot, and the former seizing his
trumpet, sprang upon the rail, steadying himself by the fore shrouds.
“Walter!” he yelled.
“Uncle Dick!” came the answer, after a moment’s pause, in surprised and
joyous accents.
After this there was a long silence. Walter, having answered the hail,
had not another word to say, and neither had the Lookout’s commander
or any of his crew, whose amazement and delight were too great for
utterance. They seemed unable to remove their eyes from the little yacht.
What adventures had she passed through since they last saw her? She had
sailed hundreds of miles over a stormy gulf to a country that none of her
crew had ever visited before, had been shot at by the heavy guns of the
fort, chased by a frigate, and stolen by deserters, and there she was,
looking little the worse for her rough experience. At length Uncle Dick’s
voice broke the silence. “Are you all safe?” he inquired.
He asked this question in a trembling voice, grasping the shrouds with a
firmer hold, and bending forward a little as if to meet a shock from some
invisible source, while his crew held their breath, and listened eagerly
for the reply.
“Yes, sir; all except Chase. He is not with us. He must be at Don
Casper’s.”
“Thank Heaven!” was the involuntary ejaculation of everyone of the
Lookout’s company. “To go through so much and come out with the loss
of only one of the crew, who may yet be found alive and well! It is
wonderful!”
Uncle Dick’s face wore an expression that no one had ever seen there
before, and his voice was husky as he seized his brother’s hand, and
wringing it energetically, asked what was to be done now? Mr. Gaylord and
the officer advised an immediate return to Don Casper’s; and in obedience
to Uncle Dick’s orders, the Lookout again filled away, and the Banner
came about, and followed in her wake.
* * * * *
The adventures we have attempted to describe in this volume comprise all
the exciting events in the history of the Club’s short sojourn in Cuba,
but by no means all the interesting ones. If time would permit, we might
enter into minute details concerning the grand re-union that took place
in the cabin of the Lookout shortly after she and the Banner entered the
bay, and anchored at the stern of the frigate. It was a happy meeting,
in spite of the gloom thrown over it by the absence of Chase, and the
consequent anxiety and distress of his father. Wilson was obliged to
tell, over and over again, all he knew about the missing boy. He held his
auditors spell-bound for half an hour, and when he finished his story,
Walter began. Among the listeners was the captain of the iron-clad; and
when the young commander told how narrowly he had escaped discovery and
capture when the man-of-war was entering the bay, the officer patted him
on the head and said that he was a brave lad and a good sailor.
Uncle Dick and his crew were highly indignant over what had happened
in the cove at Lost Island. They had heard it all from the master of
the revenue cutter. The old sailor and his brother, who, it will be
remembered, were in the woods searching for Featherweight when the
Banner began her cruise, returned home at daylight, and learning from
Mrs. Gaylord where the boys had gone, they hurried to Bellville, raised
a crew for the Lookout, and put to sea. Before they had gone far they
found the John Basset, drifting helplessly about on the waves, her engine
being disabled. That explained why she did not make her appearance at
Lost Island. Uncle Dick took Mr. Chase and Mr. Craven aboard his own
vessel, listened in amazement to their story, and shortly afterward met
the cutter. He held a long consultation with her captain, who, after
describing what had taken place in the cove, told him that the last he
saw of the Banner she was following after the Stella, which had set sail
for Cuba. Uncle Dick at once filled away in pursuit; but being too old
to believe that a vessel carrying contraband goods would go to so large
a port as Havana, ran down until land was sighted, and then held along
the coast, carefully examining every bay and inlet. As the Lookout was
a much swifter vessel than the Stella, he gained time enough to do all
this work, and to reach Port Platte on the evening of the same day the
smuggler arrived there.
Mutual explanations being ended, the entire party, accompanied by a squad
from the frigate, went ashore to look for Chase. They searched high and
low (the Club found time to peep into the wine cellar where he and Wilson
had been confined), but could find nothing of him. At daylight the three
vessels sailed in company for Port Platte, and the whole of that day and
the succeeding one was spent in fruitless search. Chase had disappeared
as utterly as if he had never had an existence. Being satisfied at last
that he had shipped on board some vessel bound for the States, his father
consented to sail with his friends for Bellville. They reached the
village without any mishap, and in ample season for the Club to perfect
numerous plans for their amusement during the holidays. Some interesting
events happened about that time—one especially which threw our heroes
into ecstacies—and what they were, shall be told in “THE SPORTSMAN’S CLUB
AMONG THE TRAPPERS.”
THE END.
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the “Boy Trapper Series.” Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=ROUGHING IT SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. In box containing
the following. 3 vols. Cloth, extra, black and gold =3 75=
(Sold separately.)
=George in Camp=; or, Life on the Plains. Being the 1st
volume of the “Roughing It Series.” Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=George at the Wheel=; or, Life in a Pilot House. Being the
2d volume of the “Roughing It Series.” Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=George at the Fort=; or, Life Among the Soldiers. Being
the 3d and concluding volume of the “Roughing It Series.”
Illustrated, 16mo. =1 25=
=ROD AND GUN SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. In box containing
the following. 3 vols. Cloth, extra, black and gold =3 75=
(Sold separately.)
=Don Gordon’s Shooting Box.= Being the 1st volume of the
“Rod and Gun Series.” Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=Rod and Gun.= Being the second volume of the “Rod and
Gun Series.” Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=The Young Wild-Fowlers.= Being the third volume of the
“Rod and Gun Series.” Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
Alger’s Renowned Books.
Horatio Alger, Jr., has attained distinction as one of the most popular
writers of books for boys, and the following list comprises all of his
best books.
By Horatio Alger, Jr.
=RAGGED DICK SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr., in box
containing the following. 6 vols. 16mo. Cloth,
extra, black and gold. =$7 50=
(Sold separately.)
=Ragged Dick=; or, Street Life in New York. Illustrated.
16mo. =1 25=
=Fame and Fortune=; or, The Progress of Richard Hunter.
Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=Mark the Match Boy=; or, Richard Hunter’s Ward.
Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=Rough and Ready=; or, Life among the New York Newsboys.
Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=Ben the Luggage Boy=; or, Among the Wharves. Illustrated.
16mo. =1 25=
=Rufus and Rose=; or, The Fortunes of Rough and Ready.
Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=TATTERED TOM SERIES.= (FIRST SERIES.) By Horatio Alger,
Jr., in box containing the following. 4 vols. 16mo.
Cloth, extra, black and gold =5 00=
(Sold separately.)
=Tattered Tom=; or, The Story of a Street Arab. Illustrated.
16mo. =1 25=
=Paul the Peddler=; or, The Adventures of a Young Street
Merchant. Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=Phil the Fiddler=; or, The Young Street Musician.
Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=Slow and Sure=; or, From the Sidewalk to the Shop.
Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=TATTERED TOM SERIES.= (SECOND SERIES.) In box containing
the following. 4 vols. Cloth, extra, black and gold =5 00=
(Sold separately.)
=Julius=; or, The Street Boy Out West. Illust’d. 16mo. =1 25=
=The Young Outlaw=; or, Adrift in the World. Illustrated.
16mo. =1 25=
=Sam’s Chance and How He Improved it.= Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=The Telegraph Boy.= Illustrated. 16mo =1 25=
=LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES.= (FIRST SERIES.) By Horatio Alger,
Jr., in box containing the following. 4 vols. 16mo.
Cloth, extra, black and gold =5 00=
(Sold separately.)
=Luck and Pluck=; or, John Oakley’s Inheritance.
Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=Sink or Swim=; or, Harry Raymond’s Resolve.
Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=Strong and Steady=; or, Paddle Your Own Canoe.
Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=Strive and Succeed=; or, The Progress of Walter Conrad.
Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES.= (SECOND SERIES.) In box
containing the following. 4 vols. 16mo. Cloth,
extra, black and gold =5 00=
(Sold separately.)
=Try and Trust=; or, The Story of a Bound Boy.
Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=Bound to Rise=; or, How Harry Walton Rose in the World.
Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=Risen from the Ranks=; or, Harry Walton’s Success.
Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=Herbert Carter’s Legacy=; or, The Inventor’s Son.
Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=BRAVE AND BOLD SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr., in box
containing the following. 4 vols. 16mo. Cloth, extra,
black and gold =5 00=
(Sold separately.)
=Brave and Bold=; or, The Story of a Factory Boy.
Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=Jack’s Ward=; or, The Boy Guardian. Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=Shifting for Himself=; or, Gilbert Greyson’s Fortunes.
Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=Wait and Hope=; or, Ben Bradford’s Motto. Illustrated.
16mo. =1 25=
=CAMPAIGN SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr., in box containing
the following. 3 vols. 16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold =3 75=
(Sold separately.)
=Frank’s Campaign=; or, the Farm and the Camp. Illustrated.
16mo. =1 25=
=Paul Prescott’s Charge.= Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=Charlie Codman’s Cruise.= Illustrated, 16mo. =1 25=
=PACIFIC SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols. 16mo.
Cloth, extra, black and gold =5 00=
(Sold separately.)
=The Young Adventurer=; or, Tom’s Trip Across the Plains.
Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=The Young Miner=; or, Tom Nelson in California.
Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=The Young Explorer=; or, Among the Sierras. Illustrated.
16mo. =1 25=
=Ben’s Nugget=; or, A Boy’s Search for Fortune. A Story
of the Pacific Coast. Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=The Young Circus Rider=; or, The Mystery of Robert Rudd.
Being the 1st volume of the “Atlantic Series.”
Illustrated. 16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold. =1 25=
=Do and Dare=; or, A Brave Boy’s Fight for Fortune.
Being the 2d volume of the “Atlantic Series.”
Illustrated. 16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold =1 25=
=Hector’s Inheritance=; or, Boys of Smith Institute.
Being the 3d volume of the “Atlantic Series.”
Illustrated. 16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold =1 25=
By C. A. Stephens.
Rare books for boys—bright, breezy, wholesome and instructive—full of
adventure and incident, and information upon natural history—they blend
instruction with amusement—contain much useful and valuable information
upon the habits of animals, and plenty of adventure, fun and jollity.
=CAMPING OUT SERIES.= By C. A. Stephens. In box
containing the following. 6 vols. 16mo. Cloth, extra,
black and gold =$7 50=
(Sold separately.)
=Camping Out.= As recorded by “Kit.” With eight full-page
illustrations. 16mo. =1 25=
=Left on Labrador=; or, The Cruise of the Schooner Yacht
“Curlew.” As recorded by “Wash.” With eight full-page
illustrations. 16mo. =1 25=
=Off to the Geysers=; or, The Young Yachters in Iceland. As
recorded by “Wade.” With eight full-page illustrations.
16mo. =1 25=
=Lynx Hunting.= From Notes by the Author of “Camping Out.”
With eight full-page illustrations. 16mo. =1 25=
=Fox Hunting.= As recorded by “Raed.” With eight full-page
illustrations. 16mo. =1 25=
=On the Amazon=; or, the Cruise of the “Rambler.” As
recorded by “Wash.” With eight full-page illustrations.
16mo. =1 25=
By J. T. Trowbridge.
These stories will rank among the best of Mr. Trowbridge’s books for the
young, and he has written some of the best of our juvenile literature.
=JACK HAZARD SERIES.= By J. T. Trowbridge. In box
containing the following. 6 vols. 16mo. Cloth, extra,
black and gold. =$7 50=
(Sold separately.)
=Jack Hazard and his Fortunes.= With twenty illustrations.
16mo. =1 25=
=A Chance for Himself=; or, Jack Hazard and his Treasure.
With nineteen illustrations. 16mo. =1 25=
=Doing his Best.= With twenty illustrations. 16mo. =1 25=
=Fast Friends.= With seventeen illustrations. 16mo. =1 25=
=The Young Surveyor=; or, Jack on the Prairies. With
twenty-one illustrations. 16mo. =1 25=
=Lawrence’s Adventures Among the Ice Cutters=, Glass
Makers, Coal Miners, Iron Men and Ship Builders. With
twenty-four illustrations. 16mo. =1 25=
By Edward S. Ellis.
A New Series of Books for Boys, equal in interest to the “Castlemon” and
“Alger” books. His power of description of Indian life and character is
equal to the best of Cooper.
=BOY PIONEER SERIES.= By Edward S. Ellis. In box containing
the following. 3 vols. Illustrated. Cloth, extra, black
and gold =$3 75=
(Sold separately.)
=Ned in the Block House=; or, Life on the Frontier. Being
the 1st volume of the “Boy Pioneer Series.” Illustrated.
16mo. =1 25=
=Ned in the Woods.= Being the 2d volume of the “Boy Pioneer
Series.” Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
=Ned on the River.= Being the 3d volume of the “Boy Pioneer
Series.” Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=
End of Project Gutenberg's The Sportman's Club Afloat, by Harry Castlemon