CHAPTER I THE MYSTERIOUS BOXES "What are you limping for, Bobolink?" "Oh! shucks! I see there\'s no use trying to hide anything from your sharp eyes, Jack Stormways. Guess I just about walked my feet off today, goin\' fishin\' with our patrol leader, away over to the Radway River, and about six miles up." "Have any luck, Bobolink?" instantly demanded the third member of the group of three half-grown boys, who were passing after nightfall through some of the partly deserted streets on the outskirts of the thriving town of Stanhope; and whose name it might be stated was Tom Betts. "Well, I should say, yes. Between us we got seven fine bass, and a pickerel. By the way, I caught that pickerel; Paul, he looked after the bass end of the string, and like the bully chap he is divided with me;" and the boy who limped chuckled as he said this, showing that he could appreciate a joke, even when it was on himself. About everybody in town called him Bobolink; and what boy could do otherwise, seeing that his real name was Robert O. Link? As the trio of lads were all dressed in the khaki suits known all over the world nowadays as typifying Boy Scouts, it could be readily taken for granted that they belonged to the Stanhope Troop. Already were there three full patrols enlisted, and wearing uniforms; while a fourth was in process of forming. The ones already in the field were known as, first, the Red Fox, to which these three lads belonged; then the Gray Fox, and finally the Black Fox. But as they had about exhausted the color roster of the fox family, the chances were that the next patrol would have to start on a new line when casting about for a name that would stamp their identity, and serve as a totem. An efficient scout master had been secured in the person of a young man by the name of Mr. Gordon, who cheerfully accompanied the lads on their outings, and attended many of their meetings. But being a traveling salesman, Mr. Gordon often had to be away from home for weeks at a time. When these lapses occurred, his duties fell upon the shoulders of PaulMorrison, who not only filled the position of leader to the Red FoxPatrol, but being a first-class scout, had received his commission fromHeadquarters that entitled him to act as assistant scout master to thewhole troop during the absence of Mr. Gordon. "How did you like it up on the Radway?" continued the one who had made the first inquiry, Jack Stormways, whose father owned a lumber yard and planing mill just outside the limits of the town, which was really the goal of their present after-supper walk. "Great place, all right," replied Bobolink. "Paul kept calling my attention to all the things worth seeing. He seems to think a heap of the old Radway. For my part, I rather fancy our own tight little river, the Bushkill." "Well, d\'ye know, that\'s one reason I asked how you liked it," Jack went on. "Paul seemed so much taken with that region over there, I\'ve begun to get a notion in my head he\'s fixing a big surprise, and that perhaps at the meeting to-night he may spring it on us." "Tell me about that, will you?" exclaimed Bobolink, who was given to certain harmless slang ways whenever he became in the least excited, as at present....

PREFACE Dear Boys:— Once more it is my privilege to offer you a new volume wherein I have endeavored to relate further interesting adventures in which the members of Stanhope Troop of Boy Scouts take part. Most of my readers, I feel sure, remember Paul, Jud, Bobolink, Jack and many of the other characters, and will gladly greet them as old friends. To such of you who may be making the acquaintance of these manly young chaps for the first time I can only say this. I trust your interest in their various doings along the line of scoutcraft will be strong enough to induce you to secure the previous volumes in this series in order to learn at first hand of the numerous achievements they have placed to their credit. The boys comprising the original Red Fox Patrol won the beautiful banner they own in open competition with other rival organizations. From that day, now far in the past, Stanhope Troop has been known as the Banner Boy Scouts. Its possession .gn +1 has always served as an inspiration to Paul and his many staunch comrades. Every time they see its silken folds unfurled at the head of their growing marching line they feel like renewing the vows to which they so willingly subscribed on first joining the organization. Many of their number, too, are this day proudly wearing on their chests the medals they have won through study, observation, service, thrift, or acts of heroism, such as saving human life at the risk of their own. I trust that all my many young readers will enjoy the present volume fully as much as they did those that have appeared before now. Hoping, then, to meet you all again before a great while in the pages of another book; and with best wishes for every lad who aspires to climb the ladder of leadership in his home troop, believe me, Cordially yours,George A. Warren. THE BANNER BOY SCOUTS SNOWBOUND CHAPTER I ON THE FROZEN BUSHKILL “Watch Jack cut his name in the ice, fellows!” “I wish I could do the fancy stunts on skates he manages to pull off. It makes me green with envy to watch Jack Stormways do that trick.” “Oh, shucks! what’s the use of saying that, Wallace Carberry, when everybody knows your strong suit is long-distance skating? The fact is both the Carberry twins are as much at home on the ice as I am when I get my knees under the supper table.” “That’s kind of you to throw bouquets my way, Bobolink. But, boys, stop and think. Here it is—only four days now to Christmas, and the scouts haven’t made up their minds yet where to spend the glorious holidays.” “Y-y-yes, and b-b-by the same token, this year we’re g-g-going to g-g-get a full three-weeks’ vacation in the b-b-bargain, b-b-because they have t-t-to overhaul the f-f-furnaces.” “Hold on there, Bluff Shipley! If you keep on falling all over yourself like that you’ll have to take a whole week to rest up.” “All the same,” remarked the boy who answered to the odd name of Bobolink, “it’s high time we scouts settled that important matter for good.” “The assistant scout-master, Paul Morrison, has called a meeting at headquarters for to-night, you understand, boys,” said the fancy skater, who had just cut the name of Paul Morrison in the smooth, new ice of the Bushkill river....

Barbara in Brittany By E. A. Gillie

This book is part of the TREDITION CLASSICS. It contains classical literature works from over two thousand years. Most of these titles have been out of print and off the bookstore shelves for decades. The book series is intended to preserve the cultural legacy and to promote the timeless works of classical literature. Readers of a TREDITION CLASSICS book support the mission to save many of the amazing works of world literature from oblivion. With this series, tredition intends to make thousands of international literature classics available in printed format again – worldwide. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

THE OPEN DOOR "Here we are at your father\'s feed store, Joe!" "Yes, but there isn\'t a glimmer of a light. Didn\'t you say he was going to stay here till you came from the meeting?" "Shucks! he just got tired waiting, and went home long ago; you can trot along now by your lonesome, Joe." "Listen! didn\'t you hear it, fellows? What was that sound?" The four boys stood, as Joe asked this question, almost holding their breath with awe, while no doubt their hearts pounded away like so many trip-hammers. It was after ten o\'clock at night, and the town of Stanhope, nestling on the bank of the Bushkill, usually closed its business doors by nine, save on Saturdays. This being the case, it was naturally very quiet on Anderson street, even though electric lights and people abounded on Broad street, the main thoroughfare, just around the corner. These lads belonged to a troop of Boy Scouts that had been organized the preceding summer. They wore the regular khaki suits that always distinguish members of the far-reaching organization, and one of them even carried a bugle at his side. The first speaker was Paul Morrison, the scout leader, to whom much of the labor of getting the troop started had fallen. Paul was the son of the leading doctor in Stanhope. His comrades were the bugler, known as Bobolink, because he chanced to answer to the name of Robert Oliver Link; Jack Stormways, Paul\'s particular chum; and Joe Clausin, the one who had asked his friends to stroll around in his company, to the feed store, where he expected to find his father waiting for him. The lads had been attending a regular weekly meeting of the troop at one of the churches that offered them the free use of a gymnasium. "There\'s no light inside," said Bobolink, in a husky voice, "but the door\'s half open, boys!" This announcement sent another thrill through the group. Anyone unacquainted with the wearers of the Scout uniforms might even imagine that they had been attacked by a spasm of fear; but at least two members of the group had within recent times proven their valor in a fashion that the people of Stanhope would never forget. In the preceding volume of this series, issued under the name of "The Banner Boy Scouts; or, The Struggle for Leadership," I related how the boys got together and organized their patrol and troop. Of course, there was considerable opposition, from jealous rivals; but in the end the boys of Stanhope won their right to a prize banner by excelling the troops from the neighboring towns in many of the things a true scout should know and practice. Hence, no one who has perused the first book of this series will imagine for an instant that any of these lads were timid, simply because they clustered together, and felt their pulses quiver with excitement. "Do you hear that sound again, Joe?" demanded Paul, presently, as all listened. "I thought I did just then," answered Joe Clausin, drawing a long breath; "but perhaps it was only imagination. Dad\'s been doing more work than he ought, lately....

This collection of literature attempts to compile many of the classic works that have stood the test of time and offer them at a reduced, affordable price, in an attractive volume so that everyone can enjoy them.

CHAPTER I THE MYSTERIOUS BOXES "What are you limping for, Bobolink?" "Oh! shucks! I see there\'s no use trying to hide anything from your sharp eyes, Jack Stormways. Guess I just about walked my feet off today, goin\' fishin\' with our patrol leader, away over to the Radway River, and about six miles up." "Have any luck, Bobolink?" instantly demanded the third member of the group of three half-grown boys, who were passing after nightfall through some of the partly deserted streets on the outskirts of the thriving town of Stanhope; and whose name it might be stated was Tom Betts. "Well, I should say, yes. Between us we got seven fine bass, and a pickerel. By the way, I caught that pickerel; Paul, he looked after the bass end of the string, and like the bully chap he is divided with me;" and the boy who limped chuckled as he said this, showing that he could appreciate a joke, even when it was on himself. About everybody in town called him Bobolink; and what boy could do otherwise, seeing that his real name was Robert O. Link? As the trio of lads were all dressed in the khaki suits known all over the world nowadays as typifying Boy Scouts, it could be readily taken for granted that they belonged to the Stanhope Troop. Already were there three full patrols enlisted, and wearing uniforms; while a fourth was in process of forming. The ones already in the field were known as, first, the Red Fox, to which these three lads belonged; then the Gray Fox, and finally the Black Fox. But as they had about exhausted the color roster of the fox family, the chances were that the next patrol would have to start on a new line when casting about for a name that would stamp their identity, and serve as a totem. An efficient scout master had been secured in the person of a young man by the name of Mr. Gordon, who cheerfully accompanied the lads on their outings, and attended many of their meetings. But being a traveling salesman, Mr. Gordon often had to be away from home for weeks at a time. When these lapses occurred, his duties fell upon the shoulders of PaulMorrison, who not only filled the position of leader to the Red FoxPatrol, but being a first-class scout, had received his commission fromHeadquarters that entitled him to act as assistant scout master to thewhole troop during the absence of Mr. Gordon. "How did you like it up on the Radway?" continued the one who had made the first inquiry, Jack Stormways, whose father owned a lumber yard and planing mill just outside the limits of the town, which was really the goal of their present after-supper walk. "Great place, all right," replied Bobolink. "Paul kept calling my attention to all the things worth seeing. He seems to think a heap of the old Radway. For my part, I rather fancy our own tight little river, the Bushkill." "Well, d\'ye know, that\'s one reason I asked how you liked it," Jack went on. "Paul seemed so much taken with that region over there, I\'ve begun to get a notion in my head he\'s fixing a big surprise, and that perhaps at the meeting to-night he may spring it on us." "Tell me about that, will you?" exclaimed Bobolink, who was given to certain harmless slang ways whenever he became in the least excited, as at present....