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[Illustration: RICHARD ON DRILL. Page 142.]
IN SCHOOL AND OUT;
OR,
THE CONQUEST OF RICHARD GRANT.
A Story for Young People.
BY
OLIVER OPTIC,
AUTHOR OF "THE BOAT CLUB," "ALL ABOARD," "NOW OR NEVER,"
"TRY AGAIN," "POOR AND PROUD," "LITTLE BY LITTLE,"
"RICH AND HUMBLE," "THE RIVERDALE
STORY BOOKS," ETC.
BOSTON:
LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS.
NEW YORK:
LEE, SHEPARD AND DILLINGHAM.
1873.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by
WILLIAM T. ADAMS,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court
of the District of Massachusetts.
STEREOTYPED AT THE
BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY,
19 Spring Lane.
TO
EDWARD JENKINS HOWE
This Book
IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED
BY HIS UNCLE.
THE WOODVILLE STORIES.
IN SIX VOLUMES.
A LIBRARY FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.
BY OLIVER OPTIC.
1. RICH AND HUMBLE.
2. IN SCHOOL AND OUT.
3. WATCH AND WAIT.
4. WORK AND WIN.
5. HOPE AND HAVE.
6. HASTE AND WASTE.
PREFACE.
The second volume of the Woodville Stories contains the experience of
Richard Grant, "in school and out." We are sorry to say that Richard
had become a bad boy, and was in the habit of getting into the most
abominable scrapes, some of which are detailed in the first chapters of
this book. But he is not what is sometimes called a vicious boy, for he
has many good qualities, which redeem him from absolute condemnation.
There is something noble in his character, which is the germ of his
ultimate salvation from the sins which so easily beset him.
Richard, like thousands of others, finds his strongest and most
dangerous foe within his own heart; and the conquest he achieves is not
a triumph of mind over matter, of force over force, but of principle
over passion, of the good angels in the heart over the invading legion
of evil ones.
Richard's experience is full of stirring incidents; and while the
author hopes therein to realize the expectations of his partial young
friends, he begs them to remember that these exciting events are only
the canvas upon which he has endeavored to paint the great change
wrought in the character of the hero. There is a moral in the story,
and though the author has not attempted to "point" it, he hopes his
young readers will feel it, even if they do not see it.
Again it affords me pleasure to acknowledge my indebtedness to my young
friends for the kind reception given to my books. I trust that this,
the twentieth volume of my "Stories for Young People," will not
disappoint their hopes, or fail to improve their minds and hearts.
WILLIAM T. ADAMS.
DORCHESTER,
Oct. 26, 1863.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAP. I.
Richard Grant and Friend get into an awful Scrape. 11
CHAP. II.
Richard jumps out of the Frying-pan into the Fire. 23
CHAP. III.
Richard finds that no Chastening seemeth joyous. 35
CHAP. IV.
Richard makes a tremendous Sensation at Woodville. 47
CHAP. V.
Richard is determined to be revenged. 59
CHAP. VI.
Richard gives another Illustration of Sleep-walking. 71
CHAP. VII.
Richard kindles a Fire. 83
CHAP. VIII.
Richard beholds how great a Matter a little Fire kindleth. 96
CHAP. IX.
Richard goes to the Tunbrook Military Institute. 110
CHAP. X.
Richard learns the meaning of Right About Face. 123
CHAP. XI.
Richard goes through the Drill, and has a set-to in the Grove. 136
CHAP. XII.
Richard does a "Big Thing" and takes the Consequences. 151
CHAP. XIII.
Richard listens to a Homily on Fighting, and spends the Night in
the Guard House. 166
CHAP. XIV.
Richard does Guard Duty, and is captured by an Enemy. 180
CHAP. XV.
Richard finds himself in the Hands of the Regulators. 194
CHAP. XVI.
Richard becomes First Sergeant of Company D. 208
CHAP. XVII.
Richard gives the Tunbrookers a Lesson in Boating. 220
CHAP. XVIII.
Richard wins another Race, and Tunbrook is mutinous. 235
CHAP. XIX.
Richard is determined, and some Allusion is made to
"Watermelons." 247
CHAP. XX.
Richard Visits Green Island, and the Regulators consider
their Plans. 260
CHAP. XXI.
Richard annihilates the Regulators, and the Story is concluded. 273
IN SCHOOL AND OUT;
OR,
THE CONQUEST OF RICHARD GRANT.
CHAPTER I.
RICHARD GRANT AND FRIEND GET INTO AN AWFUL SCRAPE.
"Now, steady as she is," said Sandy Brimblecom, who lay upon the
half-deck of the Greyhound, endeavoring to peer through the darkness of
a cloudy night, which had settled deep and dense upon the Hudson, and
obscured every object on the shore. "Steady as she is, Dick, and we
shall go in all right."
"Ay, ay; steady it is," replied Richard Grant, who was at the helm.
"Port a little! Port a little!" added Sandy, a few moments after, as he
discovered the entrance of a little inlet, which was the destination of
the Greyhound.
"Shut up your head, Sandy!" replied Richard, in a low but energetic
tone. "You might as well publish our plan in the newspaper as speak as
loud as that."
"Port a little more," said the lookout forward.
"What's the use of hallooing port?" answered Richard, impatiently.
"Don't you see the mainsail shakes now?"
"You will be on the rocks in half a minute more."
"Let her go about, then, and we will get a little farther to windward
before we try to run in."
The Greyhound came over on the other tack, and stood away from the
shore a considerable distance. The wind was very light, and the current
was against them; so the progress of the boat was necessarily very
slow.
"Now, Sandy Brimblecom," said Richard, when the boat had made a third
of the distance to the opposite shore, "we might as well go back to
Woodville, and go to bed, as to attempt to carry this thing through, if
you are going to bellow and yell like a mad bull."
"I didn't think I spoke very loud," replied Sandy.
"Didn't think so!" sneered Richard. "Any one might have heard you clear
across the river."
"O, no, Dick; not so bad as that."
"You spoke too loud, at any rate, and you might as well go up and tell
'Old Batterbones' what we are about as talk half so loud as you did."
"Come, Dick, you have said enough," replied Sandy, who did not relish
all the reflections that were cast upon his conduct.
"You are as stupid as an owl; I thought you had some common sense."
"That'll do, Dick; I don't want any more of that kind of blarney; and
if you don't shut up, you or I will get a black eye."
Richard did not seem to have much doubt which of them would obtain this
ornamental tinting of the physiognomy, for he immediately changed his
tone, and did not venture to apply any more unpleasant epithets to his
companion. Sandy had obtained some reputation as a fighting character,
and was virtually the champion of the ring among the boys in the
vicinity of Whitestone.
"Now be more careful, this time, Sandy," said Richard, as he put the
boat about upon the other tack.
"Don't give me any more lip, Dick, and I will do any thing you want,"
replied Sandy, mollified by the altered tones of his friend.
"Don't get mad; we have no time to quarrel, if we mean to put this
thing through to-night."
"I am ready to put it through, but I have no notion of being treated
like a slave or a fool," said Sandy, as he lay down upon the half-deck,
and began to gaze into the gloom ahead of the boat. "Luff a little," he
added, as he discovered the dim outline of the shore.
"Luff, it is."
This time, both boys spoke in a low tone, and the want of harmony which
a few moments before had threatened to break up the enterprise, and end
in a game of rough and tumble, was removed. The Greyhound, under the
skilful management of Richard,--for there was not a better sailor of
his years on the Hudson,--was thrown into the inlet without touching
the rocks which lay at the entrance.
Sandy, with the painter in his hand, jumped ashore, and made fast to a
small tree on the bank. Neither of the boys spoke a loud word, and
Richard carefully brailed up the sails, so that their flapping should
not attract the attention of any person who might be in the vicinity.
"Now, Dick, if you will follow me, I will lead you up to Old
Batterbones' garden," whispered Sandy, when the sail boat had been
properly secured.
"I will follow you. Have you got the bag?"
"Yes--all right."
Richard followed his companion up the steep bank of the river, across a
field, till they came to a fence, where they paused to reconnoitre.
"Now be careful, Sandy," whispered Richard, nervously, "for I wouldn't
be caught in this scrape for the best hundred dollars that ever was."
"I don't want to be caught any more than you do," replied Sandy.
"Well, it won't make so much difference with you as it will with me."
"Won't it! Don't you think my neck is worth as much to me as yours is
to you?"
"I don't mean that, of course. Your father is a carpenter, and people
won't think half so much of it if you are caught, as they would in my
case."
"My father never was in the Tombs if he is a carpenter," growled Sandy.
"That's mean," said Richard. "You know he was put there for nothing at
all."
"It isn't half so mean as what you said. If you think you are so much
better than I am, what did you ask me to come with you for?"
"I don't think I am any better than you are."
"Yes, you do; and you may go ahead with the game; I won't go any
farther."
"Don't back out, Sandy. Have you got scared?"
"I'm not scared; you are too big for your boots."
"No, no, Sandy, I didn't mean any thing of the sort."
"Didn't you say it wouldn't make as much difference with me as with
you, if we got caught?"
"I only meant that people would talk more about me than they would
about you."
"Perhaps they would, and perhaps they wouldn't. In my opinion, I'm as
good as you are, any day."
"Of course you are; I never doubted it. Come, Sandy, we've run together
too long to fall out now."
"I don't want to fall out, or back out; but I don't want to be snubbed,
every ten minutes, about my father's being a carpenter."
"I won't say another word, Sandy. I didn't mean any thing."
"All right, my boy. I don't live in a big house, and my father isn't
rich; but I'm just as good as any other fellow, for all that. If you
didn't mean any thing, I'm satisfied."
"If I thought you were not as good as I am, of course I shouldn't go
with you."
This conversation was carried on in a very low tone, while the boys
were seated by the fence. When Sandy's injured honor was healed, and
the son of the rich broker of Woodville had acknowledged that the other
was his equal, they were again ready to proceed with the business of
the enterprise. Richard was not content with the homage which his
companions could render without any sacrifice of self-respect, but he
exacted the right not only to command them, but also to be indulged in
the use of opprobrious epithets.
Sandy, as the "bully" of his circle, could not quietly submit to the
domineering style of the rich man's son. He was willing, for the sake
of sharing in the "loaves and fishes," which Richard had to distribute,
to compromise far enough to be ordered in a gentlemanly way; but he
would not tolerate any invidious comparisons. Richard had a fine boat,
and Sandy was very fond of sailing, which made him sacrifice some
portion of his dignity as the champion of the ring. Richard was usually
well supplied with money, which was a scarce article with the son of
the journeyman carpenter, and boys bow down to the Mammon of this
world, as well as men.
Richard patronized Sandy because his hard fist and abundant muscle
rendered him a powerful and influential person. It was easier to buy
the champion than it was to whip him, and the broker's son had
conquered the bully by paying for the oysters at Bob Bleeker's saloon
in Whitestone, and by permitting him to use the Greyhound when he
wished. Richard had a great respect for muscle. If Sandy Brimblecom's
father had chosen to pursue his peaceful avocation in any other
locality than Whitestone, Richard Grant might have been the champion of
the "P.R." The advent of Sandy had produced a fight, in which Richard,
though he behaved to the satisfaction of all his friends and
supporters, was severely punished. His friends called it a drawn
battle; but Richard did not think it advisable to have the question
definitely settled, and Sandy was acknowledged as the champion.
Richard respected the boy he could not whip, and they had become
friends, or, at least, associates. It is scarcely necessary to inform
the intelligent young readers of this book, that the moral standard of
both boys was very low; for those who can fight simply to find out
which is "the better man," have a very inadequate conception of what
constitutes true dignity and nobility of character. "Muscle" and
"backbone"--fighting ability and courage--in a good cause, are to be
respected, and men and boys will always pay them due homage; but
fighting for its own sake is mean, low-lived business--the most vicious
of vices.
Sandy was satisfied with the explanation of his patron, and rising from
his seat under the fence, he looked over into the garden, and listened
for any sounds which might indicate an obstacle in the way of the
enterprise; but not a sound could be heard except the chirping of the
crickets and the piping of the frogs. With a great deal of care, he
climbed to the top of the fence, and then listened again.
"Does he keep a dog?" whispered Richard.
"I don't know; I don't care, either," replied Sandy, as he dropped from
the fence into the garden.
Richard climbed over with the same caution which his companion had
used, and after following him for some distance, reached a patch of
watermelons, which appeared to be the destination of this night
expedition.
"Get down on the ground!" whispered Sandy, who had already prostrated
himself. "You will blow the whole thing if you stand up there."
"Open the bag, and let's fill it up quick!" replied Richard, as he
picked a large melon from the vines, and handed it to the other.
"What's the use of picking such a melon in that?" snarled Sandy. "It
isn't ripe. Can't you tell the ripe ones by the feeling?"
"No; I can't."
"Stick your thumb nail into them. Here, you take the bag, and I will
pick them. We don't want to lug off melons that are good for nothing."
Richard took the bag, and placed the fruit in it as fast as Sandy
gathered it. In a few moments the bag was full, and the young marauders
commenced their retreat with all the haste which a proper caution would
permit. The bag was large and heavy, and it required their united
strength to carry it.
The garden proved to be something like an eel trap--it was easy enough
to get into it, but very difficult to get out. Near the melon patch
there was a piece of corn, by the side of which lay their path out of
the enclosure. They had gone but a short distance when they heard a
rustling in the corn behind them, and before they could make out the
cause of the noise, a strong hand grasped the collar of each of them.
"We've caught you, my lads!" exclaimed one of the men, who had seized
Richard.
It was an awful scrape: so thought the broker's son; and Sandy,
notwithstanding the difference in their social standing, was of the
same opinion.