THE REVENUE CUTTER.
“Now fellows,” said Walter, as they rode along the carriage-way, “let’s
divide the work, so that there may be no delay. Eugene, put the horses in
the stable and feed them. Bab and Wilson, go down and pull the Banner out
of the bayou, loosen the sails, and get everything ready for an immediate
start. While you are doing that, Perk and I will go in and get on some
dry clothing, and tell father and Uncle Dick what has happened. When we
come down to the boat we’ll bring a couple of baskets of provisions with
us.”
As soon as the boys reached the house they sprang from their saddles, and
hurried off to perform the work assigned them. Ten minutes afterwards,
when Walter and Perk, none the worse for their cold bath in the bayou,
joined the rest of the Club on board the yacht, they found her all ready
for sea. The hatches had been thrown open, the cabin unlocked, the
binnacle lighted, the lamps hoisted at the catheads, the sails were loose
and flapping in the wind, and the little vessel was held to the bank by
a bow and stern line, both ends of which were made fast on deck so that
they could be cast off without going ashore.
“Fellows, I am afraid that you have done all this work for nothing,”
exclaimed Walter, as he and Perk sprang over the rail and deposited their
baskets of provisions on deck. “Uncle Dick has not got back yet, and
neither has father.”
The expression of disappointment that settled on the faces of the yacht’s
crew, as well as the exclamations they uttered, showed that this was
anything but a pleasant piece of news. Uncle Dick was just the man for
the occasion. He would have entered heartily into their scheme—he was
interested in everything his young friends did—and he would have carried
it out successfully, too.
“They are still out looking for Featherweight,” continued Walter, “and
haven’t been home since morning. I told mother where we are going and
what we intend to do, and she says that when they return she will send
them after us in the Lookout.”
The Lookout was Mr. Gaylord’s yacht. When the season closed she had been
left at the village for repairs; and although the work on her was all
completed, she had not yet been brought home. The boys would have been
glad to make the cruise with her instead of the Banner, for she was a
much swifter boat; but it required a crew of ten men to handle her, and
that was a larger force than they could raise.
“Shall we wait for Uncle Dick, or go without him?” asked Walter, in
conclusion.
“Let’s go now,” exclaimed Eugene. “There’s no knowing what we may lose by
an hour’s delay. I’d as soon trust myself on the Gulf with you as with
Uncle Dick.”
The other boys expressed the same unlimited confidence in their young
commander, and urged an immediate departure; and Walter, who, like
all modest young fellows, had a poor opinion of his abilities, turned
to Perk, whom he had selected to act as his assistant, and rather
reluctantly ordered him to get the yacht under way.
The members of the Club were in their element now, and if Featherweight
had only been with them they would have been as happy as boys could well
be. They loved their horses, and were quite at home in the saddle; but a
staunch, swift vessel was what they most delighted in. The Banner suited
them exactly. She was small—not more than one-fourth the size of the
smuggling vessel—but she had been built under Walter’s own supervision,
with an eye to comfort and safety rather than speed, and the boys knew
that they could trust her anywhere.
In the forward part of the vessel, where the forecastle would have been
located if she had had one, was the galley. It was a small apartment,
of course, but it was well fitted up, and provided with everything in
the shape of pots, pans, and kettles that any cook could possibly find
use for. A door in one side of it opened directly into the cabin, which
occupied the whole of the after-part of the vessel, no space being taken
up with state-rooms. It was carpeted, and furnished with a small writing
desk and chairs in abundance. Two lockers, one on each side, extended the
whole length of it, and in them were stored away the hammocks in which
the crew slept, the dishes, knives, forks and other things belonging to
the table, and there was also plenty of space for the Club’s hunting
and fishing accoutrements. The top and sides of the lockers were
upholstered, and they were supplied with pillows so that they could be
used as lounges or beds.
Under the hatchway, which opened into the cabin from the deck, was
suspended a long, wide board, painted and varnished like the rest of the
furniture. This was the table. When in use it was lowered into the cabin
and kept in position—not by legs, like ordinary tables, but by polished
iron rods which came down from the beams overhead. If that table could
have found a tongue it would have told some interesting stories of the
glorious times the Club and their friends had had while seated around
it—of the quantities of roast duck, venison, oysters, catfish, quails,
and other good cheer that had been placed upon it by old Sam, the cook,
to be swept off by the hungry young yachtsmen; of the jokes that had
been passed, and the funny things that had been said after the cloth was
removed, and oranges, raisins, almonds and lemonade brought on; and of
the speeches that had been made, the stories that had been told, and the
hearty applauding blows that had been showered upon it by the Club as
Featherweight finished singing one of his favorite songs. And not only
the table, but everything else in the cabin was associated in the minds
of the Club with some exciting cruise or some pleasing event. It was
no wonder that they liked to be there, for a more cosy and comfortable
apartment could not have been found anywhere.
In the hold of the schooner were stowed away the water-butts, the seven
tons of stone-coal that served her for ballast, extra sails and ropes,
two large anchors with cables complete, a chest of carpenter’s, calker’s,
and sail-maker’s tools, an abundance of fuel for the galley—in fact
everything that the little vessel could possibly need during a voyage
could be found here. Walter, besides superintending the building of
the yacht, had provided the outfit himself, and consequently there was
nothing wanting. Everything was kept in the best order, too. There was
never a rope out of place, or a drop of paint or grease on the deck. She
was a model yacht. We have been thus particular in describing her because
she is an old favorite of ours; and, as we shall have a good deal to say
about her and her exploits, we want everybody to know how she looks.
“All hands stand by to get ship under way,” shouted Perk, repeating the
order Walter had given him.
The boys sprang at the word, and in five minutes more the mainsail,
foresail and jib had been run up, and the yacht began to careen as she
felt the wind, as if impatient to be off. Eugene went to the wheel,
Wilson and Bab cast off the lines, the Banner raised herself almost on
her side, and taking a bone in her teeth, went tearing down the bayou at
a terrific rate of speed.
“Now, I’ll tell you what’s a fact,” said Perk, pulling his collar up
around his ears and moving back into the standing-room to get out of the
reach of the spray which was dashing wildly about the bows, “this feels
natural. It is perfectly delightful. Wouldn’t she stand a little more,
Commodore—just an inch or two? We want to make good time, you know.”
Walter looked up at the masts and thought she would bear the topsails;
but just as he was on the point of telling Perk that he might have them
given to the wind, he recollected that Eugene was at the helm. Knowing
that he was a very careless, and even reckless fellow, and that he would
almost as soon carry away a mast or capsize the boat as to luff an inch,
the young captain said he thought he would make the run with the canvas
he had already hoisted.
“Well, then,” said Perk, “as the work is over until we reach the village,
Eugene and I can sail her. You and Bab and Wilson consider it your watch
below and turn in. I’ll call you when we come in sight of the wharf.”
Walter thought this good advice. He went down into the cabin and closing
the door, thus shutting out all sounds of the wind and the waves,
arranged a bed on the lee locker, and stretched himself upon it. Bab and
Wilson came down one after the other, and before the yacht had left her
anchorage a mile behind, all three were sleeping soundly. When Eugene
came in to call them about one o’clock the lights on the wharf were in
plain sight.
There was only one berth at the wharf in which a vessel could lie with
safety during a high wind, and it was already occupied by a little
schooner which was evidently getting ready to begin her voyage that
night; for her crew were busily engaged in loading her. Walter would have
been astonished had he know what consternation the sudden appearance of
his yacht produced in the minds of at least three of that schooner’s
company. A foremast hand, who was assisting another in rolling a
hogshead of hams up the gang-plank, ceased his work the instant his eyes
rested on her, and leaving his companion to himself, dived down into
the hatchway. Two men who were walking up and down the quarter-deck,
arm in arm—one dressed in broadcloth and the other in rough sailor
garments—stopped and gazed at her with mouth and eyes wide open. They
conversed a moment in low, hurried tones, and then the man in broadcloth
beat a hasty retreat down the companion ladder; while the other pulled
his tarpaulin down over his forehead, turned up the collar of his
pea-jacket, and having by these movements concealed every portion of his
face except his eyes and whiskers, thrust his hands into his pockets and
sauntered up to the rail.
“Schooner ahoy!” shouted Walter, as the Banner dashed up.
“Hallo!” was the reply.
“I’d like to tie up alongside of you for about five minutes.”
“Can’t do it,” answered the master of the schooner, for such he was.
“We’re going to sail immediately.”
“All right. When you are ready to start, I’ll get out of your way. Will
you stand by to catch a line?”
The captain of the schooner, although he heartily wished the yacht
a hundred miles away, could not well refuse to listen to so fair a
proposition as this. He caught the line as it came whirling over his
head, and made it fast on board his vessel; and in ten minutes more the
Banner was lying alongside the schooner, and Walter and Wilson were
walking up the street as fast as their legs could carry them—one to call
on Mr. Craven, and the other to find his father and Mr. Chase. The rest
of the Club remained on board to watch the yacht. Perk and Bab paced the
deck, talking over the exciting events of the day, and wondering what
else was in store for them, while Eugene clambered over the rail and went
on board the schooner. He took his stand at the forehatch and looked
down into the hold, where some of the crew were at work stowing away an
assorted cargo, and the first thought that passed through his mind was,
that for a vessel of her size she had very little capacity. What would he
have thought if he had known that there was another hold under the one he
was looking into; that it was filled with a variety of articles that had
that very afternoon been brought from New Orleans in wagons, and which
were to be smuggled into Cuba; and that in a dark corner among those
articles Fred Craven lay, still bound as securely as he was when we last
saw him? If Chase had been there he could have told some strange stories
about that schooner; but as none of the crew of the yacht had ever seen
her before (the reason was that she always left and entered port during
the night), they took her for just what she appeared to be—a trader.
While Eugene stood looking down into the hold, the master of the
schooner, a short, thick-set, ugly-looking man, with red whiskers and
mustache, came swaggering up and tried to enter into conversation with
him. He wanted to know whose yacht that was, what she had come there for,
where she was going, why Walter and Wilson had been in such haste to get
ashore, and asked a good many other questions that Eugene did not care
to answer. He could see no reason why he should tell the man the Club’s
business; and the latter, finding that he could get nothing out of him,
turned on his heel and walked off.
In half an hour Walter and Wilson returned, accompanied by Mr. Chase and
Mr. Craven. Wilson’s father was out of town, and consequently he had not
seen him. They were overwhelmed with astonishment at the stories the boys
had told them, and Eugene thought as he looked into Mr. Craven’s face
and glanced at the butt of the navy revolver which protruded from the
inside pocket of his coat, that he wouldn’t like to be in Pierre’s place
if Fred’s father ever met him. They were impatient to get under way. They
hurried across the deck of the schooner—passing directly over the head of
one of the boys they were so anxious to find, and so close to him that he
heard the sound of their footsteps—and springing over the yacht’s rail
lent a hand in hoisting the sails, and obeyed Walter’s orders as readily
as any of the crew. The master of the schooner saw them as they stepped
upon the deck, and pulled his collar up closer around his face; and when
the yacht veered around and filled away for the Gulf, he hurried below to
talk to the man in broadcloth.
Under a jib and close-reefed main and foresail, the Banner made good
weather of it when she reached the Gulf. She skimmed over the waves
like a bird, and, guided by Bab’s careful hands, never shipped so much
as a bucket of water. As the lights in the village began to fade away in
the distance, other lights came into view in advance of them—a red and
a green light. Then the boys knew that they were not alone on the Gulf,
for those lights were suspended from the catheads of some approaching
vessel. Like old sailors, they began to express their opinions concerning
the stranger. She was a sailing-vessel, because if she were a steamer
they would see the lights in her cabin windows. She was not bound to New
Orleans, for she was not headed that way—she was coming toward them. She
was going to the village, and was, most likely, some small trader like
the one they had left at the wharf.
“Better keep away a little, Bab,” said Walter. “We don’t care to go too
close to her in this wind.”
Bab altered the course of the yacht a point or two, and in a few minutes
the position of the lights changed, showing that the vessel in front of
them had altered her course also, and that she intended to pass close
to the yacht whether her captain was willing or not. Believing from
this that the stranger had something to say to him, Walter brought his
trumpet out of the cabin and walked forward. The lights continued to
approach, becoming more and more distinct every moment, and presently
a trim little schooner hove in sight and came up into the wind within
hailing distance. Walter also threw the yacht up into the wind, and
waited for the stranger to make known his wants.
“Schooner ahoy!” came the hail out of the darkness.
“Ay, ay, Sir!” replied Walter through his trumpet.
“What schooner is that?”
“The yacht Banner, from Bellville, bound for Lost Island. What schooner
is _that_?”
“We want to send a boat aboard of you,” shouted the voice, without
replying to Walter’s question.
“Very good, sir. What schooner is that?”
Still no reply. The stranger evidently did not care to tell who and what
she was. Walter was amazed at this want of courtesy, and wondering why a
vessel that he had never seen before should want to send a boat aboard
of him, sprang down from the rail and looked at the schooner through his
night-glass. All he could make out was that her hull was long and narrow
and sat low in the water, that her masts were tall and raking, that her
sails looked much too large for her, and that taken altogether she was
a very handsome vessel, and plainly a swift sailer. While Walter was
looking at her, her boat came into view. It was crowded with men, and as
it approached within the circle of light thrown out by the lanterns that
Perk and Eugene held over the side, Walter saw that they were dressed in
the uniform of the revenue cutter service, and that they were all armed.
Even the two officers who sat in the stern-sheets wore their swords.
Walter, more bewildered than ever, looked toward Mr. Craven for an
explanation; but the blank look on that gentleman’s face showed that he
did not understand the matter any better than Walter did. Before either
of them could say a word, the revenue officer boarded the yacht, followed
by some of their men—the former staring at Walter and his crew with an
air of surprise, and the sailors looking all around as if expecting an
attack from some quarter.
“Who’s the master of this craft?” asked one of the officers.
“I am, sir,” replied Walter.
“You!” exclaimed the lieutenant. The surprise he had at first exhibited
seemed to be greatly increased by this answer. He looked at his
companion, then swept his eyes all around the vessel, and finally turned
them upon the young commander, whom he scrutinized closely. “You’re
beginning this business rather early in life, are you not? You are not
just the sort of a fellow I expected to see, and neither are your crew
the desperadoes I thought them.”
“I don’t understand you, sir,” said Walter.
“You will soon enough. May I trouble you to show me your papers?”
“My papers! I haven’t any.”
“Ah! I thought so. Mr. Butler,” added the lieutenant, turning to his
companion, “we’ve got them at last. Bring your men aboard and assume
charge of the vessel. I will take the captain and these gentlemen on
board the cutter, and the rest of the crew you will put under guard.
Follow in our wake when we fill away for Bellville.”
Walter and the rest of the Club were struck dumb with amazement. The
former looked at the lieutenant to see if he was really in earnest,
then at the sailors who began to clamber out of the boat, and tried to
protest against what he regarded as a most unwarrantable and high-handed
outrage; but he could not find words strong enough to express his
indignation. Mr. Craven, however, stepped forward and spoke for him.
“Mr. officer,” said he, “may I ask you to explain the meaning of this?”
“Certainly. We have a description of a smuggler that has been eluding us
for a long time, and this vessel answers that description perfectly. We
think you are the gentlemen we have been looking for, and we are going to
take you back to Bellville with us.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Walter, drawing a long breath of relief; “but you have
made a great mistake, a most ridiculous mistake.”
“You certainly have,” said Mr. Craven. “We are all well known in
Bellville, and assure you that we and our vessel are all right. My
brother is collector of the port.”
“I know him, but I don’t know you.”
“We don’t want to go back to the village,” continued Mr. Craven. “A
matter of the utmost importance to this gentleman and myself demands our
immediate attention. You never saw a smuggler fitted up like this yacht.
Look about her, and you can easily see that she has no place for stowing
away a cargo.”
“That is no part of my duty,” replied the officer. “I was told what to do
under certain circumstances, and I must obey orders. I’ll trouble you to
step into this boat.”
By this time the yacht was in full possession of the cutter’s men. The
boy-crew had been ordered below, and were now in the cabin under arrest;
a sailor had taken Bab’s place at the wheel, and Lieutenant Butler stood
on the quarter-deck with Walter’s speaking-trumpet in his hand. It made
Walter angry to see his beloved yacht under the control of strangers; but
knowing that there was but one way out of the difficulty, he sprang into
the boat, followed by Mr. Chase and Mr. Craven.
“Don’t take it so much to heart,” said the latter, addressing the
dejected young captain. “This man is only a second lieutenant, and of
course he is acting under orders. When we arrive on board the cutter
we’ll talk to the captain. If he wants to find the smugglers we can tell
him where to look for two of them.”
Walter caught at the encouragement thus held out, as drowning men catch
at straws; but his hopes fell again as soon as he found himself in the
presence of the captain of the cutter. The latter, who was a very pompous
man, and for some reason or other seemed to think himself of considerable
importance, listened to the report of his officer, and after telling him
that he had done perfectly right, and that the prisoners looked like a
desperate lot, turned on his heel, and ordered the first lieutenant to
fill away for Bellville. Mr. Craven tried to gain his ear for a moment,
but the captain told him rather sternly that he was very busy just then,
and would attend to him after awhile.
Walter had not been long aboard the cutter before he became aware that he
was an object of interest to her crew. The officer who had commanded the
boat pointed him out to his mess as the captain of the yacht, and they
all looked at him with curiosity, especially the young third lieutenants
attached to the vessel, who congregated in the waist, and stared at
him as long as he remained on deck. Walter was a handsome fellow, as
neat and trim as the vessel he commanded, and the lieutenants told one
another that he looked every inch a sailor; but they could hardly believe
that he was the chief of the band of outlaws of whom they had heard so
much. Walter was nettled by their close scrutiny, and, when the captain
of the cutter, unbending a little from his dignity, intimated that, if
his prisoners had anything of importance to say to him, they might step
down into the cabin, he gladly accepted the invitation. He thought,
however, that he and his friends might as well have stayed on deck and
kept silent, for the captain wouldn’t believe a word of their story. He
wasn’t going back to Lost Island on any wild goose-chase, he said. There
might be two smugglers there with a boy prisoner, and there might not—he
neither knew nor cared. When they reached the village he would go with
Mr. Craven and his two friends to the collector of the port, and see if
they were really what they represented themselves to be, and that was all
he would do. That settled the matter; and Walter, greatly disgusted with
the captain’s obstinacy, bolted out of the cabin, slamming the door after
him.
The cutter stopped once on the way to the village long enough to overhaul
a schooner that was coming out of the harbor. The second lieutenant
boarded her, and when he came back reported that she was all right. She
was the Stella, bound to Havana with an assorted cargo. But she was _not_
all right, if the lieutenant had only known it. She had some articles on
board that were not mentioned in her manifest, and among them was a boy
named Fred Craven.
To Walter’s great relief the village was reached at last, and as soon
as the cutter had dropped her anchor he stepped into the boat with
the captain and the two gentlemen, and put off for shore to visit the
collector of the port. Having business on hand that would admit of no
delay, Mr. Craven did not hesitate to call him out of his bed to listen
to their story and set them right with the captain of the cutter. The
collector, little dreaming what had taken his brother into the Gulf at
that time of night, laughed heartily at the idea of his being taken for
a smuggler; and the revenue captain, finding that he had committed a
blunder, apologized so freely and seemed to regret the circumstance so
much, that Walter was almost ready to forgive him. Mr. Craven, however,
was not so easily appeased, and neither was Mr. Chase. They had lost more
than three hours by their forced return, and they did not know what might
have become of their boys in the mean time.
We have no space in this volume to relate the further adventures of
our heroes. It will be enough to say that the Banner sailed away from
Bellville that very night—this time armed with documents that would carry
her in safety through a whole fleet of revenue cutters—but her cruise
did not end when she reached Lost Island. It extended hundreds of miles
beyond it; and what she and her gallant young crew did during the voyage
shall be told in “THE SPORTSMAN’S CLUB AFLOAT.”
THE END.
[Illustration: Specimen Cover of the Gunboat Series.]
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[Illustration: Specimen Cover of the Ragged Dick Series.]
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=LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES.= (SECOND SERIES.) By Horatio Alger,
Jr. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra,
printed in colors. In box $5 00
=Try and Trust=; or, The Story of a Bound Boy 1 25
=Bound to Rise=; or Harry Walton’s Motto 1 25
=Risen from the Ranks=; or, Harry Walton’s Success 1 25
=Herbert Carter’s Legacy=; or, The Inventor’s Son 1 25
=CAMPAIGN SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr. 3 vols., 12mo.
Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors.
In box $3 75
=Frank’s Campaign=; or, The Farm and the Camp 1 25
=Paul Prescott’s Charge= 1 25
=Charlie Codman’s Cruise= 1 25
=BRAVE AND BOLD SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols.,
12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in
colors. In box $5 00
=Brave and Bold=; or, The Story of a Factory Boy 1 25
=Jack’s Ward=; or, The Boy Guardian 1 25
=Shifting for Himself=; or, Gilbert Greyson’s Fortunes 1 25
=Wait and Hope=; or, Ben Bradford’s Motto 1 25
=PACIFIC SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols., 12mo.
Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors.
In box $5 00
=The Young Adventurer=; or, Tom’s Trip Across the Plains 1 25
=The Young Miner=; or, Tom Nelson in California 1 25
=The Young Explorer=; or, Among the Sierras 1 25
=Ben’s Nugget=; or, A Boy’s Search for Fortune. A Story
of the Pacific Coast 1 25
=ATLANTIC SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols., 12mo.
Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors.
In box $5 00
=The Young Circus Rider=; or, The Mystery of Robert Rudd 1 25
=Do and Dare=; or, A Brave Boy’s Fight for Fortune 1 25
=Hector’s Inheritance=; or, Boys of Smith Institute 1 25
=Helping Himself=; or, Grant Thornton’s Ambition 1 25
=WAY TO SUCCESS SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols.,
12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in
colors. In box $5 00
=Bob Burton= 1 25
=The Store Boy= 1 25
=Luke Walton= 1 25
=Struggling Upward= 1 25
NEW BOOK BY ALGER.
=DIGGING FOR GOLD.= By Horatio Alger, Jr. Illustrated
12mo. Cloth, black, red and gold 1 25
[Illustration: Specimen Cover of the Wyoming Series.]
A New Series of Books.
Indian Life and Character Founded on Historical Facts.
By Edward S. Ellis.
⁂ Any volume sold separately.
=BOY PIONEER SERIES.= By Edward S. Ellis. 3 vols., 12mo.
Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors.
In box $3 75
=Ned in the Block House=; or, Life on the Frontier 1 25
=Ned in the Woods.= A Tale of the Early Days in the West 1 25
=Ned on the River= 1 25
=DEERFOOT SERIES.= By Edward S. Ellis. In box containing
the following. 3 vols., 12 mo. Illustrated $3 75
=Hunters of the Ozark= 1 25
=Camp in the Mountains= 1 25
=The Last War Trail= 1 25
=LOG CABIN SERIES.= By Edward S. Ellis. 3 vols., 12mo.
Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors.
In box $3 75
=Lost Trail= 1 25
=Camp Fire and Wigwam= 1 25
=Footprints in the Forest= 1 25
=WYOMING SERIES.= By Edward S. Ellis. 3 vols., 12mo.
Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors.
In box $3 75
=Wyoming= 1 25
=Storm Mountain= 1 25
=Cabin in the Clearing= 1 25
NEW BOOKS BY EDWARD S. ELLIS.
=Through Forest and Fire.= 12mo. Cloth 1 25
=On the Trail of the Moose.= 12mo. Cloth 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. 6 vols., 12mo.
Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors.
In box $7 50
=Camping Out.= As recorded by “Kit” 1 25
=Left on Labrador=; or The Cruise of the Schooner Yacht
“Curfew.” As recorded by “Wash” 1 25
=Off to the Geysers;= or, The Young Yachters in Iceland.
As recorded by “Wade” 1 25
=Lynx Hunting.= From Notes by the author of “Camping Out” 1 25
=Fox Hunting.= As recorded by “Raed” 1 25
=On the Amazon;= or, The Cruise of the “Rambler.” As
recorded by “Wash” 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. 6 vols., 12mo.
Fully Illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors.
In box $7 50