“SO LONG—SEE YOU LATER!”
It was the afternoon of the following day when the little flotilla,
running past the island of Valcour, sighted a promontory straight ahead
and a little later discovered it to be the embracing arm which forms the
outer boundary of Cumberland Bay.
As they sailed into this spacious haven they could see, a little to the
northwest, a large field dotted with innumerable tents, which on closer
view they saw to be arranged with the utmost squareness and precision, in
avenues.[3] Their first sight of the famous training camp made Temple
Camp seem very insignificant indeed. Out in the lake was a bobbing buoy
with a bulls-eye target upon it, and a group of khaki-clad rookies were
pelting this with rifle shot. In an open part of the field several
companies were drilling and the crisp orders of their officer could be
plainly heard across the water.
“Hurrah for Preparedness!” shouted Roy, throwing his hat in the air.
They had been a rather sober party of voyagers during this last part of
their trip and Roy’s accustomed spirit seemed to have gone from him, but
it came back now with a rush and as usual it had a contagious effect on
the others.
“Hurrah for Uncle Sam!” shouted Pee-wee, grabbing the naval flag from the
stern and waving it frantically.
“They look like scouts, don’t they?” said Mr. Ellsworth.
“Oh, cracky,” enthused Pee-wee. “I’m glad we came!”
“Altogether!” called Mr. Ellsworth, looking over to the smaller boat.
“Hoop it up, Tom! Hurrah for Preparedness!”
“We thought of it first,” called Connie. “Uncle Sam swiped it from us.
Come on, let’s give ’em our own call!”
“_Be prepared! Be prepared! Be prepared!_”
And so, shouting lustily the motto of the scouts the boats came alongside
the landing and were met by several smiling rookies, off duty.
“Are we pinched?” asked Mr. Ellsworth, laughing as he stepped ashore.
“No, indeed; you’re welcome,” said a bronzed rookie.
Pee-wee was not to be repressed by any formal greeting, however
hospitable. He stood upon the _Honor Scout’s_ cabin, waving the naval
flag in one hand and his scout hat in the other, like some frantic,
idiotic form of semaphoring.
“Hurrah for Uncle Sam!” he shrieked, hilariously. “Hurrah for
Preparedness! Hurrah for Platts——”
He stopped short, gaping like an idiot. The flag fell from his hand
unheeded.
“_Look—look!_,” he gasped.
“What is it, the Germans?” asked a rookie, looking around.
“_Look—look!_” he gasped.
They looked, and there, sitting astride a piece of artillery not far from
shore, his legs dangling and a merry smile upon his face, was the
freckled scout!
No sign of scratch or bruise was there about him, and if he had been shot
out of the mouth of the cannon he was straddling he could hardly have
caused greater consternation. Plattsburg, preparedness, Uncle Sam, must
be content with back seats, as this freckled youngster descended nimbly
from the cannon and came smiling toward his brother scouts.
“_Aren’t—you—dead?_” ejaculated Pee-wee.
“Not so you’d notice it,” said the freckled boy with a surprised laugh.
“You don’t find many dead ones among the scouts, I guess,” said an
officer, who had come down to confirm the rookies’ welcome.
“You said something,” said Roy.
“I remember you three fellows,” said the freckled scout. “Don’t you
remember? I was in that store in Albany——”
“Sure, we got lost,” began Roy.
“Shhh,” interrupted Artie.
“We—we thought you were dead,” said Tom, startled somewhat out of his
usual composure.
“Dead? No,” laughed the boy. “I haven’t been dead for quite a while.
What’s the idea?”
“Have—have you got anything the matter with you?” stammered Pee-wee,
staring blankly at him.
“I’ve got a wart on my left thumb,” said the freckled scout, “but that
won’t stop me helping Uncle Sam if we have to scrap it out with Germany.”
“Haven’t you got anything else the matter with you?” Pee-wee asked
imploringly. “Even if you’re alive, you ought to have _something_ the
matter with you—— Gee!”
The freckled scout began to laugh and then came _his_ surprise, for he
broke off as Garry came ashore, and grasped him by the hand.
“Hello, Everson,” said he. “Don’t you know me?”
“For the love of tripe!” said Garry. “You don’t live in Warrentown, do
you? Down near Edgevale?”
“Sure, when I’m alive,” laughed the freckled scout. “But these fellows
seem to think I ought to be dead. What’s the idea, anyway?”
“Well, what _are_ you doing alive, I’d like to know,” said Garry.
“Fellows, this is—Everett, I think your name is, isn’t it?”
“Warren Everett,” said the boy.
“I thought I recognized you,” said Garry. “I didn’t get a good enough
squint at you down the lake yesterday—if that _was_ you.”
“Sure it was me—I saw you fellows out there in the boats. I see I’ve got
you all guessing.”
“Where’s the other fellow?”
“Oh, he’s knocking around somewhere in camp here. We just canoed up for a
squint at the place. I’ve often seen you in Warrentown,” he added,
turning again to Garry. “I heard you fellows over in Edgevale started a
troop.”
“It fizzled out,” said Garry, resting his arm on Raymond’s shoulder.
“We’re the last of our race. But, for goodness’ sakes, tell us how you
come to be alive, anyway? We saw you fall down that cliff——”
Warren Everett laughed again. “You see it was this way,” said he. “On our
way up the Hudson we ran into a moving picture bunch. They had a big
launch and a hydro-aeroplane——”
“A what?” said Tom.
“They said we were just the fellows they wanted because there was a scene
they were going to make where a scout climbs up a steep mountain and then
slips and falls down. They wanted to take pictures of him climbing and
then more of him falling. They had the hill all picked out and they
wanted to know if I’d climb it.
“‘Believe me, that’s my middle name,’ I told them. ‘Let’s see the hill.’
“‘We haven’t got it with us,’ the man said, ‘but it’s a peach, all
right—it looks harder than it is.’
“I asked him about the falling down part, and he said, ‘Don’t you worry
about that. We’ve got a rag dummy to do the falling. All you’ve got to do
is to climb till you get to the grove near the top and when you get
inside of that you’ll find the rag dummy on a log. Just push it over and
let it fall down the hill.’”
“Well—I’ll—be—jiggered!” said Roy.
“Good idea?” laughed Everett. “Of course, the rag dummy went all the way
down to the bottom——”
“You bet it did,” said Connie.
“But in the picture it won’t be that way. You’ll see me climb up the hill
and you’ll see the dummy start down, and then—zip, goes the fillum—and
the next you see is a first-aid scout bandaging up another scout’s head.”
By this time Everett’s companions had joined the party and having
properly presented him to the newcomers, the freckled boy resumed his
original seat astride the cannon.
“You see,” said he, “we were down near Glens Falls when we picked up the
movie men. They had a hydro and a big cabin boat. They gave us the money
for a uniform for the rag dummy and we went back to Albany and bought it.
When we got back they were waiting for us, and believe me, we had some
fun dressing up that dummy. I took the new suit and gave him the old one.
_He_ didn’t care.”
“He should worry,” put in Roy.
The freckled scout continued his story, swinging his legs and greatly
delighted at the astonishment of his listeners.
“This is a most remarkable thing,” said Mr. Ellsworth.
“Can you beat it! Well, we all started north with our canoe tagging
behind. It was all right, wasn’t it, Frank, because we were going that
way anyway. When we got into the lake the man in the hydro left the water
and said he’d meet us on the top of the cliff. He told me just where he’d
leave the dummy. Oh, gee, but he looked nice as he went sailing up in the
air! We got out of the boat at Westport[4] and Frank and I helped them
lug the camera and things to the mountain. We had it all fixed just what
we’d do and when the man found a good place up the hill a ways, where
they could get enough sunlight on the only original Boy Scout movie
star—that’s me!—Frank and I went back to Westport, and paddled up in our
canoe, just as if we were coming to the mountain for the first time. We
got out under the cliff and I started up. Frank stayed down below so he
could get the dummy! Believe me, that dummy has some busy life! They use
it for a policeman and a soldier and a poor orphan child—gee, you ought
to see the clothes that poor dummy’s got!
“Well, I guess you fellows know the rest. I got to the top all right, and
take it from me, when I got my fists on that rag dummy, I gave it
one—good—chuck—_ker-bang!_ G-o-o-d-night!
“Then I trotted over to the big field on top of the cliff where the
fellow with the aeroplane was waiting. Pretty soon along came Frank
dragging the poor dummy after him by the leg. He came up the easy way.
And goodnight, Mary Ann! I’m glad I wasn’t that poor dummy——”
“I’m glad you weren’t,” said Mr. Ellsworth, dryly, thinking of the
harrowing hours they had spent searching for his dead body.
“Well, they said they had the picture all right and it would be a beaut’.
So then the man told us to jump in the aero and he’d bring us up to
Plattsburg. You see that red boat over there with _Back to Nature Film
Corporation_ on it? That’s ours—I mean, theirs. They’re going to take
some pictures here if they can get permission. But we’re out of the movie
business for good—aren’t we, Frank? And we’re going to ship our little
old canoe down home and get the train tonight—— Hey, Everson,” he said,
breaking off suddenly and turning to Garry; “why in the deuce don’t you
be a good scout and come over to Warrentown and give us poor fellows a
hand? Mr. Wentworth, our scoutmaster, is on the Mexican border and three
of our fellows have gone out west to live—the Harris boys—maybe you know
of them. Gee, a fellow like you could help us an awful lot. You could be
a sort of scoutmaster till the Local Council scares one up. And you don’t
live so far—going scout pace. What do you say? Will you?”
_Would he!_
“He will on one condition,” said Mr. Ellsworth. “You and your friend must
join us on our homeward cruise. I’ve heard of the Warrentown Troop and
Garry ought to be glad to get into it——”
“They ought to be glad to get him!” shouted Pee-wee.
“Sure, he’s a bargain,” put in Roy. “Now’s their chance.”
“Yes, I think myself it will be an honor both ways,” said Mr. Ellsworth,
who had grown very fond of Garry. “He will bring you the Silver Cross——”
“And he’s no rag dummy,” interrupted Roy.
“Our plan,” said Mr. Ellsworth, “is to look about the camp here and set
off again in the morning, for time is beginning to be precious. We shall
leave Raymond at Temple Camp, in the Catskills, where he’s to stay for
the balance of the summer. Then, if you like, we’ll drop you boys and
Garry at Edgevale. Our larger boat and one of our members, to whom it
belongs, we shall leave at Nyack. The rest of us live in Bridgeboro, New
Jersey—we’re the First Bridgeboro B. S. A. Probably some of our boys will
hike it home from Nyack while the rest of us cruise down into New York
Bay and up our own small river.”
“It’s just a one-patrol river,” said Roy.
“Are you with us?” Connie asked.
“Sure, he’s with us!” cried Roy. “Who’s deciding this, Warrentown or
Bridgeboro? We’ll drag both of them along by the legs the way they
dragged the rag scout, hey?”
The party made a pleasant stay at the big training camp, walking through
the straight, neat avenues of tents, visiting the commissary, watching
the drill, and lingering, fascinated, about the rookies who were busy at
rifle practice. They were made very welcome and it was not without a
feeling of regret that they went aboard the two boats after the colors
had been lowered. But Plattsburg, of which they were to hear so much
later, had been merely the chosen point of destination for their rambling
inland cruise, and as Mr. Ellsworth had remarked, time was beginning to
be precious.
The hospitable Bridgeboro Troop, with its strangely acquired new member
and its several guests, lolled upon the deck and cabin roof of the _Honor
Scout_ that night, as the two boats waited at their moorings for the dawn
which would mean their departure on the speedier journey homeward.
As the moon rose over the wide bosom of the great lake and flickered the
waters with its silvery brightness, Harry Stanton sat upon the cabin
locker, strumming his ukulele, and those who were in the mood hummed the
soft airs while the others listened. Often whole days would elapse in
which Harry Stanton would be scarcely heard from, but in the quiet of
those summer nights upon the water he contributed his full share to the
pleasure of the party.
If you, to whom I am about to bid a short farewell, are a scout of the
scouts, see to it that some one of your troop’s number learns to play a
mandolin, a banjo, or guitar—even if you have to drag him by the leg, as
young Frank dragged the unfortunate dummy.
After a little while some one discovered that Roy was not among them, and
there was set up at once a hue and cry for him, for such an evening could
be no more complete without Roy than a Buffalo Bill Show would be without
Buffalo Bill or a circus without peanuts.
“Maybe he’s in the other boat,” said one.
“Maybe he’s on shore,” said another.
It was Pee-wee who dragged him forth from the forward end of the cabin,
where he had been ensconced, knees up, “far from the madding crowd.”
“What’s the matter?” asked Artie Van Arlen.
Roy squatted in his customary attitude, holding a paper in his hand.
“I was thinking about all the crazy things that have happened,” said he,
“and the fellows we’ve met on this trip, and believe _me_, it’s some
hodge-podge. I was coming down from that big commissary tent, scout pace,
when some poetry jumped into my noddle. Did you ever notice how poetry
comes to you when you go scout pace?” he asked, turning to Mr. Ellsworth.
“No, I never did,” said the scoutmaster.
“Want to hear it? It’s a sort of—sort of a national anthem of the
troop——”
“Troop anthem?”
“It isn’t fixed up yet because the kid interrupted me. Do you want to
hear it?”
“I dare say I can stand it if the others can,” said the scoutmaster.
“Go ahead, shoot!” said Doc.
“Get the agony over with,” said Connie.
“All right, since you insist,” said Roy, taking Tom’s flashlight so he
could read the immortal lines. “Here goes—one—two—_three_!
“Rag scouts, wooden scouts,
Thin heads and thick,
Honor scouts, young sprouts—
Just take your pick.
“Scouts without scout suits,
Shirts full of holes,
Silver Foxes—_they’re the beauts_!
Scouts without patrols.
“Youth scouts, sleuth scouts,
Scouts with motor-boats,
Scouts that come to life again,
Music scouts and potes.
“Scoutmaster on the job,
Something-or-other—welk,
Hip, hip, hurrah, scouts—
Raven, Fox and Elk!
“What do you think of it?”
“Of, it’s great!” yelled Pee-wee.
“I think it’s superb,” said Mr. Ellsworth, “especially the complimentary
reference to the scoutmaster.”
“The pleasure is mine,” said Roy, with an elaborate bow.
“But may I ask what a _pote_ is?”
“Sure, a pote’s a scout that writes pomes.”
“I see. And a welk?”
“Well, you see it’s this way,” said Roy, undaunted. “The welkin is the
sky, and welk’s short for welkin. Get me? I was just trying to dope out
how to fit that in when Pee-wee grabbed me.”
“We shall have to make you poet laureate of the troop,” said Mr.
Ellsworth.
“The Bridgeboro Bard,” laughed Garry.
“Do you think if I sent it to _Boys’ Life_ they’d print it?” Roy asked.
“Sure, they would!” yelled Pee-wee.
“I don’t know,” said Mr. Ellsworth, cautiously. “I doubt it. You might
try. They have printed worse things,” he added.
Roy glanced again at his masterpiece, folded it up, put it in his pocket,
drew his knees up, clasped his hands about them, and grinned at the
assemblage.
“_I_ should worry,” he said.
THE END
Footnotes
[1]Meaning to send a message by a smudge signal.
[2]A pearl necklace is the phrase used by the English in Africa to define
a trail which is visible and invisible at short, regular intervals.
[3]This is the Plattsburg of 1915-1916.
[4]Westport is just below Split Rock Mountain.
_This Isn’t All!_
Would you like to know what became of the good friends you have made in
this book?
Would you like to read other stories continuing their adventures and
experiences, or other books quite as entertaining by the same author?
On the _reverse side_ of the wrapper which comes with this book, you will
find a wonderful list of stories which you can buy at the same store
where you got this book.
_Don’t throw away the Wrapper_
_Use it as a handy catalog of the books you want some day to have. But in
case you do mislay it, write to the Publishers for a complete catalog._
THE TOM SLADE BOOKS
By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH
Author of “Roy Blakeley,” “Pee-wee Harris,” “Westy
Martin,” Etc.
Illustrated. Individual Picture Wrappers in Colors.
Every Volume Complete in Itself.
“Let your boy grow up with Tom Slade,” is a suggestion which thousands of
parents have followed during the past, with the result that the TOM SLADE
BOOKS are the most popular boys’ books published today. They take Tom
Slade through a series of typical boy adventures through his tenderfoot
days as a scout, through his gallant days as an American doughboy in
France, back to his old patrol and the old camp ground at Black Lake, and
so on.
TOM SLADE, BOY SCOUT
TOM SLADE AT TEMPLE CAMP
TOM SLADE ON THE RIVER
TOM SLADE WITH THE COLORS
TOM SLADE ON A TRANSPORT
TOM SLADE WITH THE BOYS OVER THERE
TOM SLADE, MOTORCYCLE DISPATCH BEARER
TOM SLADE WITH THE FLYING CORPS
TOM SLADE AT BLACK LAKE
TOM SLADE ON MYSTERY TRAIL
TOM SLADE’S DOUBLE DARE
TOM SLADE ON OVERLOOK MOUNTAIN
TOM SLADE PICKS A WINNER
TOM SLADE AT BEAR MOUNTAIN
THE ROY BLAKELEY BOOKS
By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH
Author of “Tom Slade,” “Pee-wee Harris,” “Westy Martin,” Etc.
Illustrated. Individual Picture Wrappers in Color.
Every Volume Complete in Itself.
In the character and adventures of Roy Blakeley are typified the very
essence of Boy life. He is a real boy, as real as Huck Finn and Tom
Sawyer. He is the moving spirit of the troop of Scouts of which he is a
member, and the average boy has to go only a little way in the first book
before Roy is the best friend he ever had, and he is willing to part with
his best treasure to get the next book in the series.
ROY BLAKELEY
ROY BLAKELEY’S ADVENTURES IN CAMP
ROY BLAKELEY, PATHFINDER
ROY BLAKELEY’S CAMP ON WHEELS
ROY BLAKELEY’S SILVER FOX PATROL
ROY BLAKELEY’S MOTOR CARAVAN
ROY BLAKELEY, LOST, STRAYED OR STOLEN
ROY BLAKELEY’S BEE-LINE HIKE
ROY BLAKELEY AT THE HAUNTED CAMP
ROY BLAKELEY’S FUNNY BONE HIKE
ROY BLAKELEY’S TANGLED TRAIL
ROY BLAKELEY ON THE MOHAWK TRAIL
THE PEE-WEE HARRIS BOOKS
By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH
Author of “Tom Slade,” “Roy Blakeley,” “Westy
Martin,” Etc.
Illustrated. Individual Picture Wrappers in Color.
Every Volume Complete in Itself.
All readers of the Tom Slade and the Roy Blakeley books are acquainted
with Pee-wee Harris. These stories record the true facts concerning his
size (what there is of it) and his heroism (such as it is), his voice,
his clothes, his appetite, his friends, his enemies, his victims.
Together with the thrilling narrative of how he foiled, baffled,
circumvented and triumphed over everything and everybody (except where he
failed) and how even when he failed he succeeded. The whole recorded in a
series of screams and told with neither muffler nor cut-out.
PEE-WEE HARRIS
PEE-WEE HARRIS ON THE TRAIL
PEE-WEE HARRIS IN CAMP
PEE-WEE HARRIS IN LUCK
PEE-WEE HARRIS ADRIFT
PEE-WEE HARRIS F.O.B. BRIDGEBORO
PEE-WEE HARRIS FIXER
PEE-WEE HARRIS: AS GOOD AS HIS WORD
THE JERRY TODD SERIES
By LEO EDWARDS
Illustrated. Individual Colored Wrappers For Each Story
Every Volume Complete in Itself
Detective stories for boys! Jerry Todd and his trusty pals solve many a
baffling mystery in their home town, much to the amusement of all who
read of their adventures.
JERRY TODD AND THE WHISPERING MUMMY
Having been duly appointed “Juvenile Jupiter Detectives” Jerry Todd
and his trusty pals little realize how fast things are going to
happen. First comes the amazing adventure in the museum in Tutter
College. Did the mummy actually whisper? And did it later vanish of
its own accord?
JERRY TODD AND THE ROSE-COLORED CAT
Cats by the dozens; cats by the hundreds; and most important of all, a
mysterious five-hundred dollar rose-colored cat. Then comes the
lamentable accident to Lady Victoria’s aristocratic tail; the
operation; the over-dose of chloroform; the funeral. There is a laugh
on every page.
JERRY TODD AND THE OAK ISLAND TREASURE
Jerry Todd and his pals set themselves up in the show business by
transforming a disused clay scow of Mr. Todd’s into a floating
theatre. And a very wonderful show it is! Certainly it leads the boys
into exceptional adventures.
JERRY TODD AND THE WALTZING HEN
That strange hen? Why does it waltz? And what is the secret of the
prowling peril? Then, even as the Hindu had earlier died so quickly
and mysteriously, the boys’ old friend disappears. Then comes the
final ludicrous climax.
JERRY TODD AND THE TALKING FROG
Jerry Todd and his chums leagued together to help another boy save a
peculiar invention of his father’s, a talking frog, from thieving
hands,—wait breathlessly in the lonely brick house where the puzzle
maker had met with such a strange death. Fun and mystery here!
Football and Baseball Stories
Durably Bound. Illustrated. Colored Wrappers.
Every Volume Complete in Itself.
The Ralph Henry Barbour Books for Boys
In these up-to-the minute, spirited genuine stories of boy life there is
something which will appeal to every boy with the love of manliness,
cleanness and sportsmanship in his heart.
LEFT END EDWARDS
LEFT TACKLE THAYER
LEFT GUARD GILBERT
CENTER RUSH ROWLAND
FULLBACK FOSTER
LEFT HALF HARMON
RIGHT END EMERSON
RIGHT GUARD GRANT
The Christy Mathewson Books for Boys
Every boy wants to know how to play ball in the fairest and squarest way.
These books about boys and baseball are full of wholesome and manly
interest and information. Every young American who has ever tried to stop
a grounder or put one over to first will enjoy them and want to own them
all.
PITCHER POLLOCK
CATCHER CRAIG
FIRST BASE FAULKNER
SECOND BASE SLOAN
PITCHING IN A PINCH
THIRD BASE THATCHER, By Everett Scott
THE TOM SWIFT SERIES
By VICTOR APPLETON
Uniform Style of Binding. Individual Colored Wrappers.
Every Volume Complete in Itself.
Every boy possesses some form of inventive genius. Tom Swift is a bright,
ingenious boy and his inventions and adventures make the most interesting
kind of reading.
TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR CYCLE
TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR BOAT
TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIRSHIP
TOM SWIFT AND HIS SUBMARINE BOAT
TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC RUNABOUT
TOM SWIFT AND HIS WIRELESS MESSAGE
TOM SWIFT AMONG THE DIAMOND MAKERS
TOM SWIFT IN THE CAVES OF ICE
TOM SWIFT AND HIS SKY RACER
TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC RIFLE
TOM SWIFT IN THE CITY OF GOLD
TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIR GLIDER
TOM SWIFT IN CAPTIVITY
TOM SWIFT AND HIS WIZARD CAMERA
TOM SWIFT AND HIS GREAT SEARCHLIGHT
TOM SWIFT AND HIS GIANT CANNON
TOM SWIFT AND HIS PHOTO TELEPHONE
TOM SWIFT AND HIS AERIAL WARSHIP
TOM SWIFT AND HIS BIG TUNNEL
TOM SWIFT IN THE LAND OF WONDERS
TOM SWIFT AND HIS WAR TANK
TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIR SCOUT
TOM SWIFT AND HIS UNDERSEA SEARCH
TOM SWIFT AMONG THE FIRE FIGHTERS
TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC LOCOMOTIVE
TOM SWIFT AND HIS FLYING BOAT
TOM SWIFT AND HIS GREAT OIL GUSHER
TOM SWIFT AND HIS CHEST OF SECRETS
TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIRLINE EXPRESS
THE DON STURDY SERIES
By VICTOR APPLETON
Individual Colored Wrappers and Text Illustrations by
WALTER S. ROGERS
Every Volume Complete in Itself
In company with his uncles, one a mighty hunter and the other a noted
scientist, Don Sturdy travels far and wide, gaining much useful knowledge
and meeting many thrilling adventures.
DON STURDY ON THE DESERT OF MYSTERY;
Or, Autoing in the Land of the Caravans.
An engrossing tale of the Sahara Desert, of encounters with wild
animals and crafty Arabs.
DON STURDY WITH THE BIG SNAKE HUNTERS;
Or, Lost in the Jungles of the Amazon.
Don’s uncle, the hunter, took an order for some of the biggest snakes
to be found in South America—to be delivered alive! The filling of
that order brought keen excitement to the boy.
DON STURDY IN THE TOMBS OF GOLD;
Or, The Old Egyptian’s Great Secret.
A fascinating tale of exploration and adventure in the Valley of
Kings in Egypt. Once the whole party became lost in the maze of
cavelike tombs far underground.
DON STURDY ACROSS THE NORTH POLE;
Or, Cast Away in the Land of Ice.
Don and his uncles joined an expedition bound by air across the north
pole. A great polar blizzard nearly wrecks the airship.
DON STURDY IN THE LAND OF VOLCANOES;
Or, The Trail of the Ten Thousand Smokes.
An absorbing tale of adventures among the volcanoes of Alaska in a
territory but recently explored. A story that will make Don dearer to
his readers than ever.
THE RADIO BOYS SERIES
(Trademark Registered)
By ALLEN CHAPMAN
Author of the “Railroad Series,” Etc.
Individual Colored Wrappers. Illustrated.
Every Volume Complete in Itself.
A new series for boys giving full details of radio work, both in sending
and receiving—telling how small and large amateur sets can be made and
operated, and how some boys got a lot of fun and adventure out of what
they did. Each volume from first to last is so thoroughly fascinating, so
strictly up-to-date and accurate, we feel sure all lads will peruse them
with great delight.
Each volume has a Foreword by Jack Binns, the well-known radio expert.
THE RADIO BOYS’ FIRST WIRELESS;
Or, Winning the Ferberton Prize.
THE RADIO BOYS AT OCEAN POINT;
Or, The Message That Saved the Ship.
THE RADIO BOYS AT THE SENDING STATION;
Or, Making Good in the Wireless Room.
THE RADIO BOYS AT MOUNTAIN PASS;
Or, The Midnight Call for Assistance.
THE RADIO BOYS TRAILING A VOICE;
Or, Solving a Wireless Mystery.
THE RADIO BOYS WITH THE FOREST RANGERS;
Or, The Great Fire on Spruce Mountain.
THE RADIO BOYS WITH THE ICEBERG PATROL;
Or, Making Safe the Ocean Lanes.
RADIO BOYS WITH THE FLOOD FIGHTERS;
Or, Saving the City in the Valley.
THE RAILROAD SERIES
By ALLEN CHAPMAN
Author of the “Radio Boys,” Etc.
Uniform Style of Binding. Illustrated.
Every Volume Complete in Itself.
In this line of books there is revealed the whole workings of a great
American railroad system. There are adventures in abundance—railroad
wrecks, dashes through forest fires, the pursuit of a “wildcat”
locomotive, the disappearance of a pay car with a large sum of money on
board—but there is much more than this—the intense rivalry among
railroads and railroad men, the working out of running schedules, the
getting through “on time” in spite of all obstacles, and the manipulation
of railroad securities by evil men who wish to rule or ruin.
RALPH OF THE ROUND HOUSE;
Or, Bound to Become a Railroad Man.
RALPH IN THE SWITCH TOWER;
Or, Clearing the Track.
RALPH ON THE ENGINE;
Or, The Young Fireman of the Limited Mail.
RALPH ON THE OVERLAND EXPRESS;
Or, The Trials and Triumphs of a Young Engineer.
RALPH, THE TRAIN DISPATCHER;
Or, the Mystery of the Pay Car.
RALPH ON THE ARMY TRAIN;
Or, The Young Railroader’s Most Daring Exploit.
RALPH ON THE MIDNIGHT FLYER;
Or, The Wreck at Shadow Valley.
RALPH AND THE MISSING MAIL POUCH;
Or, The Stolen Government Bonds.
THE RIDDLE CLUB BOOKS
By ALICE DALE HARDY
Individual Colored Wrappers. Attractively Illustrated.
Every Volume Complete in Itself.
Here is as ingenious a series of books for little folks as has ever
appeared since “Alice in Wonderland.” The idea of the Riddle books is a
little group of children—three girls and three boys decide to form a
riddle club. Each book is full of the adventures and doings of these six
youngsters, but as an added attraction each book is filled with a lot of
the best riddles you ever heard.
THE RIDDLE CLUB AT HOME
An absorbing tale that all boys and girls will enjoy reading. How the
members of the club fixed up a clubroom in the Larue barn, and how
they, later on, helped solve a most mysterious happening, and how one
of the members won a valuable prize, is told in a manner to please
every young reader.
THE RIDDLE CLUB IN CAMP
The club members went into camp on the edge of a beautiful lake. Here
they had rousing good times swimming, boating and around the
campfire. They fell in with a mysterious old man known as The Hermit
of Triangle Island. Nobody knew his real name or where he came from
until the propounding of a riddle solved these perplexing questions.
THE RIDDLE CLUB THROUGH THE HOLIDAYS
This volume takes in a great number of winter sports, including
skating and sledding and the building of a huge snowman. It also
gives the particulars of how the club treasurer lost the dues
entrusted to his care and what the melting of the great snowman
revealed.
THE RIDDLE CLUB AT SUNRISE BEACH
This volume tells how the club journeyed to the seashore and how they
not only kept up their riddles but likewise had good times on the
sand and on the water. Once they got lost in a fog and are marooned
on an island. Here they made a discovery that greatly pleased the
folks at home.
THE HONEY BUNCH BOOKS
By HELEN LOUISE THORNDYKE
Individual Colored Wrappers and Text Illustrations Drawn by
WALTER S. ROGERS
A new line of fascinating tales for little girls. Honey Bunch is a
dainty, thoughtful little girl, and to know her is to take her to your
heart at once.
HONEY BUNCH: JUST A LITTLE GIRL
Happy days at home, helping mamma and the washerlady. And Honey Bunch
helped the house painters too—or thought she did.
HONEY BUNCH: HER FIRST VISIT TO THE CITY
What wonderful sights Honey Bunch saw when she went to visit her
cousins in New York! And she got lost in a big hotel and wandered
into a men’s convention!
HONEY BUNCH: HER FIRST DAYS ON THE FARM
Can you remember how the farm looked the first time you visited it?
How big the cows and horses were, and what a roomy place to play in
the barn proved to be?
HONEY BUNCH: HER FIRST VISIT TO THE SEASHORE
Honey Bunch soon got used to the big waves and thought playing in the
sand great fun. And she visited a merry-go-round, and took part in a
sea-side pageant.
HONEY BUNCH: HER FIRST LITTLE GARDEN
It was great sport to dig and to plant with one’s own little garden
tools. But best of all was when Honey Bunch won a prize at the flower
show.
HONEY BUNCH: HER FIRST DAYS IN CAMP
It was a great adventure for Honey Bunch when she journeyed to Camp
Snapdragon. It was wonderful to watch the men erect the tent, and
more wonderful to live in it and have good times on the shore and in
the water.
GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK
End of Project Gutenberg's Tom Slade on the River, by Percy K. Fitzhugh