“Come in, ladies,” he said, politely. The room was exactly as it had been the other day and apparently he had not stirred from his position. They all felt that Sahwah had not been there and that the old man knew nothing about the matter. But Calvin spoke to him.
“Uncle Peter,” he said. The man turned at the name and stared at him but gave no sign of recognizing him. “Do you know me, Uncle Peter?” said Calvin. “It’s Calvin, Jim’s boy.”
The old man smiled vacantly and held out the bit of machinery he was working on. “It’s a machine for saving time,” he said. “As the minutes are ticked off——” There was nothing to be gotten out of him, and they withdrew again. Calvin looked around him fearfully as they returned through the fields, to see if his uncle had watched him take the girls to the cottage, but there was no sign of him anywhere, at which he breathed an unconscious sigh of relief. Tired out with their ceaseless searching and sick with anxiety, they returned to Onoway House.
If we were writing an ingeniously intricate detective story the thing to do would be to wait until Sahwah was discovered by some brilliant piece of detective work and then have her tell her story, leaving the explanation of the mystery until the last chapter, and keeping the reader on the verge of nervous prostration to the end of the piece. But, as this is only a faithful narrative of actual events, and as Sahwah is our heroine as much as any of the girls, we know that the reader would much prefer to follow her adventures with their own eyes, rather than hear about them later when she tells the story to the wondering household. And we also think it only fair to say that if Sahwah’s return had depended on any brilliant detective work on the part of the others we have very grave doubts as to its ever being accomplished. We will, then, leave the dwellers at Onoway House to their searching and theorizing and bewailing, and follow Sahwah from the time they started to play hide-and-seek and Hinpoha blinded her eyes and began to count “five, ten, fifteen, twenty.”
Sahwah ran across the garden toward the house, intending to swing herself into one of the open cellar windows. Near this window was a flower bed which Migwan had filled with especially rich black soil. That morning she had watered the bed and had done it so thoroughly that the ground was turned into a very soft mud. Sahwah, not looking where she was going, stepped into this mud and sank in over her shoe top with one foot. When she had entered the window she stood on the cellar floor and regarded the muddy shoe disgustedly. Feeling that it was wet through, she ripped it off and flung it out of the window. It landed back in the muddy bed and was hidden by the growing plants. Sahwah then proceeded to hide herself in the fruit cellar. This was a partitioned off place in a dark corner. She sat among the cupboards and baskets and watched Hinpoha pass the window several times as she hunted for the players. Once Hinpoha peered searchingly into the window and Sahwah thought she was on the verge of being discovered and pressed back in her corner. There was a basket of potatoes in the way of her getting quite into the corner and she moved this out. There was also a barrel of vinegar and she slipped in behind this. As she moved the barrel it dropped back upon her shoeless foot and it was all she could do to repress a cry of pain as she stood and held the battered member in her hand. But the pain became so bad she decided to give up the game and get something to relieve it. She pushed hard against the barrel to move it out, but this time it would not move. She pushed harder, bracing her back against the wooden wall behind her, when, without warning, the wall caved in as if by magic, and she fell backwards head over heels into inky darkness. The wall through which she had fallen closed with a bang.
Sahwah sat up and reached mechanically for the hurt foot. The pain had increased alarmingly and for a time shut out all other sensations. Then it abated a little and Sahwah had time to wonder what she had fallen into. She was sitting on a stone floor, she could make that out. It must be a room of some kind, she decided, but the darkness was so intense that she could make nothing out. “There must have been another part to the cellar behind the fruit cellar, although we never knew it,” thought Sahwah, “and the back of the fruit cellar was the door.” As soon as she could stand upon her foot again she moved forward in the direction from which she thought she had come and searched with her hands for a doorknob. But her fingers encountered only a smooth wall surface and after about five minutes of careful feeling she came to the startled conclusion that there was no such thing. “I must have got turned around when I tumbled,” she thought, “and am feeling of the wrong wall.” She accordingly moved forward until her outstretched hands encountered another hard surface and she repeated the process of looking for a doorknob. No more success here. “Well, there are four walls to every room,” thought Sahwah, “and I’ve still got two more trys.” Again she moved out cautiously and with ever increasing nervousness admitted that there was no door in that direction. “Now for the fourth side, the right one at last,” she said to herself. “One, two, three, out goes me!” She moved quickly in the fourth and last direction. Without warning she ran hard into something which tripped her up. She felt her head striking violently against something hard and then she knew no more.
She woke to a dream consciousness first. She dreamed she was lying in the soft sand on the lake shore near one of the great stone piers, where a number of men were at work. They were pounding the stones with great hammers and the vibrations from the blows shook the beach and went through her as she lay on the sand. Gradually the sparkling water faded from her sight; the sky grew dark and night fell, but still the blows continued to sound on the stone. Just where the dream ended and reality began she never knew, but, with a rush of consciousness she knew that she was awake and alive; that everything was dark and that she was lying on her face in something soft that was like sand and yet not like it. And the pounding she had heard in her dream was still going on. Thud, thud, it shook the earth and jarred her so her teeth were on edge. For a long time she lay and listened without wondering much what it was. Her head ached with such intensity that it might have been the throbbing of her temples that was shaking the earth so. After a while that dulled, but the jarring blows still kept up. With a cessation of the pain came the power to think and Sahwah remembered the strange noises they had heard issuing from the ground. It must be the same noise; only it was a hundred times louder now. It was a sort of clanging thump; like the sound of steel on stone. Even with all that noise going on Sahwah slipped off into half consciousness at times. Although there did not seem to be any doors or windows, she was not suffering for lack of air, but at the time she was too dazed to notice this and wonder at it.
She woke with a start from one of these dozes to the realization that there was a broad streak of light on the floor. Fully conscious now, she raised her head and looked around. She was lying in a bin filled with sawdust. When she held up her head her eyes came just to the top of it. By the light she could see that she was indeed in a sort of sub-cellar. It must have been older than the other cellar for the floor was made of great slabs of mouldy stone. Her eyes followed the beam of light and she saw that a door had been opened into still another cellar beyond. In this chamber a lantern stood on the floor, whence came the light, and its ray produced weird and fantastic moving shadows. These shadows came from a man who was wielding a pickaxe against a spot in the stone wall. It was this that was causing the jarring blows. Startled almost out of her senses at seeing a man thus apparently caged up in the sub-cellar of Onoway House, Sahwah could only lay back with a gasp. She could not raise her voice to cry out had she been so inclined.
But fast on the heels of that shock came another. The worker paused in his exertions to wipe the perspiration from his brow, and stood where the light of the lantern shone full in his face. Sahwah’s heart gave a great leap when she recognized Abner Smalley. Abner Smalley in the hidden sub-cellar of Onoway House, digging a hole in the wall! Sahwah forgot her own plight in curiosity as to what he was doing. She lay and watched him fascinated while he resumed his pounding. So he was the mysterious intruder who had wrought such terror among them! This, then, was the well digger’s ghost! What could he be searching for in the cellar of his neighbor’s house? Sahwah dug her feet into the soft sawdust as she watched the pick rise and fall. She had no idea of the flight of time. She thought it was only a few minutes since she had fallen into the sub-cellar. She lay thinking of the expressions on the faces of the girls when she would tell them her discovery. To think that she had been the one to solve the mystery! She felt a little disappointed that the mysterious intruder should have turned out to be someone they knew. It would have been more in keeping with her idea of romance to have found a prince shut up in the cellar.
While she was thinking these thoughts the light suddenly vanished and she heard the bang of a door shutting. She was in darkness once more. In a moment she heard footsteps retreating and dying away in the distance. All was silent again. It took her some moments to collect her thoughts sufficiently to realize a new and significant fact. Abner Smalley had not gone out by the door into the fruit cellar. There must be, then, another way of egress from the sub-cellar. Instantly Sahwah made up her mind to follow him and see how he had gotten out at the other end. Her feet were imbedded deeply in the sawdust and she became aware of the fact that her shoeless foot was resting against something with a sharp edge. She drew it away and then carefully felt with her hands for the object. She could not see it when she had it but it felt like a metal box of some kind, possibly tin. She carried it with her and moved toward the place where she now knew there was a door. She found the handle easily and opened it. This was the side of the wall toward which she had moved when she had run into the bin before, and so she did not discover it. A strong breath of air struck her as she advanced into this chamber. It was scarcely more than a passage, for by reaching out her arms she could touch the wall on both sides. She moved cautiously, fearing to fall again in the dark. She felt the place in the wall where Abner Smalley had made an indentation with his pick. She was wondering where this passage led and wishing it would come to an end soon, when she struck the already sore foot against what must have been the pickaxe set against the wall and fell on her nose once more. The tin box she carried was rammed into the pit of her stomach and knocked the breath out of her, but this time she had not hit her head.
She lay still for a moment trying to get her breath back. Her eyes were becoming accustomed to the inky darkness by this time. She looked down and saw a stone floor beneath her. She turned her head to one side and saw a stone wall beside her. She turned over altogether and looked up—and saw the constellation Cassiopea flashing down at her from the sky. For a moment she could not believe her senses. Of all the strange sights she had seen nothing had affected her so powerfully as the sight of that familiar group of stars. What she had expected to see she could not tell, stone perhaps, but anything except the open sky. She sat up in a hurry and began to investigate where she was. The wall around her seemed to be circular and all of a sudden Sahwah had the answer. She was in the cistern—the old unused cistern which was not a great distance from the house. This, then, was the opening of the sub-cellar, the way in which Mr. Smalley had made his escape. There was usually a covering over the cistern, but he had evidently been in a hurry and left it off.
The fact that there were stars out took Sahwah’s breath away. It was night then; had she been in that cellar all day? It was inconceivable, yet it was undoubtedly true. By the faint glimmer of the stars she could make out that there were hollows in the stone side of the cistern by which a person could easily climb out. She lost no time in climbing when she made this discovery. What a joy it was to be coming up into God’s outdoors again! As she emerged from the cistern she saw Migwan standing in the garden beside the back porch. The moon shone full on her as she stepped out of the hole in the ground and just then Migwan caught sight of her. The apparition was too much for Migwan and she screamed one terrified scream after another until the girls came running from all over to see what fresh calamity had happened. Only seeing Sahwah standing in their midst and not having seen her appear magically out of the depths of the ground, they could not understand Migwan’s terror.
“Stop screaming, Migwan,” said Sahwah, and when Migwan heard her voice and saw that it was really she, she quieted down and listened while Sahwah told her tale of adventure since going down into the cellar to hide. The day had passed so quickly for Sahwah, she having lain unconscious until late in the afternoon, that she, of course, knew nothing of their frantic search for her and so could not comprehend why they made such a fuss over her return. They laughed and cried all at once and hugged her until she finally protested.
“What have you brought along as a souvenir of your trip?” asked Nyoda, who had regained her light-hearted manner now that Sahwah was safely back.
Sahwah looked down at the box she held in her hand. “I found it in the bin of sawdust,” she said. “It was just like playing ‘Fish-pond’ at the children’s parties. You put your hand in a box of sawdust and draw out a handsome prize.” And Sahwah laughed, her familiar long drawn-out giggle, that they had despaired of ever hearing again. She laid the box on the table. It was of tin, about nine inches long by three inches wide by three high, with a closely fitting cover. “Shall I open it, Nyoda?” she asked.
“I don’t see any harm in doing so,” said Nyoda. Sahwah took off the cover. There was nothing in the box but a folded piece of paper. She took it and spread it before them on the table.
“What is it?” they all cried, crowding around. The first thing that caught their eye was a slanting line drawn across the paper in heavy ink. There was some writing beside it, but this was so faded that it took some studying to make it out. Finally they got it. It read:
“Supposed extension of gas vein.” The upper end of the line was marked “36 feet west of cistern.” There was a cross at that point also, and this was marked, “Place where gas was struck at 300 feet.”
“The Deacon’s gas well!” they all exclaimed in chorus. It was true, then.
“And there was a well digger’s ghost, even if it didn’t turn out to be the one we expected!” said Migwan.
That day was never to be forgotten, although the next cleared up the mystery and brought still another surprise. Dave Beeman, the constable, was once more brought out and this time furnished with information that nearly caused his eyes to start from his head. Abner Smalley, the (as everyone supposed) respectable citizen of Centerville Road, breaking into his neighbor’s house and deliberately trying to dig a hole in the stone wall. It was the sensation of his career. “Well, I’ll be jiggered!” he gasped.
But his surprise was nothing compared to Abner Smalley’s when he was confronted with the accusation without warning. He turned so pale and trembled so much that it was useless to deny his guilt.
“You are guilty, Abney Smalley,” said the constable, in such a solemn tone that the girls could hardly keep straight faces. “You’d better make a clean breast of it and tell what you were doing in that house or it might go hard with you.”
Abner Smalley, although he was a bully by nature, was a coward when the odds were against him, and he had always had a wholesome fear of the law, so at Dave Beeman’s suggestion he decided to “make a clean breast of it.” We will not weary the reader with all the conversation that took place, but will simply tell the facts of the story.
Some time ago, while the old caretaker lived on the place yet, the story of the Deacon’s gas well had come to Abner Smalley’s ears. He heard a fact connected with it, however, that was not generally known, namely, that the Deacon had made a record of the place where the gas was found. Believing that the Deacon had left it hidden somewhere in the house, he had devised a means of breaking in and searching for it. His first plan had been to frighten the dwellers in the house and make them believe there was a ghost in the attic so they would give the place a wide berth at night and leave him free to ransack the Deacon’s old furniture. He frightened the Mitchells so that they moved. But no sooner had the Mitchells departed than the new caretakers had come; and they were a much bigger houseful than the others.
He had tried the same plan with them as he had with the others, namely, mysterious noises around the place at night. But what had frightened Mrs. Mitchell into moving had no effect on these new farmers. They shot off a gun when he was doing his best ghost stunt, namely, blowing into a bottle, which had produced that weird moaning sound. He it was who had dressed up as a ghost and appeared to Nyoda in the tepee; throwing the red pepper into her face when she made as if to attack him with a pole. It was he whom they had seen coming out of the barn that night, and later it was he again whom Migwan had seen during the hail storm. He had disappeared so utterly by jumping down the cistern. That was the first time he had been down, and on this occasion he had discovered the passage leading to the sub-cellar. It was he the girls had heard in the attic on numerous occasions. He had entered and gone out after dark by means of the Balm of Gilead tree. One time he broke the window. He had been down cellar that night when Sahwah nearly caught him. He was looking for the other entrance to the sub-cellar, which he never found. He knocked over the basket of potatoes which had mystified them so. He had been on the point of entering the house that day when Sahwah suddenly returned from town after he thought the whole family was gone for the day. When he saw her go off along the river he went in anyway and was nearly caught in the attic by the girls. He had escaped detection by hiding in a large chest.
The day they had gone for the picnic he saw them go and spent all day looking through the desks in the house. Finally the dog barked so he gave him the poisoned meat he had brought along to use if necessary. Then the family had returned and he had had a narrow escape into the cistern. He had stayed there until night, when he had set fire to the tepee, not knowing that anyone was sleeping in it. After starting the blaze he had again sought refuge in the cistern and when the crowd had gathered, came out in their midst so that his absence from such an exciting event in the neighborhood would cause no comment among the farmers. The cistern was in the shadow and everyone was watching the fire so intently that he was able to emerge unseen.
He had sprayed the tomatoes with lime and written the note which they found on the door. He had left the chisel in the automobile on one occasion when he had been hunting through the things in the barn; forgetting to take it with him when he went out.
He wanted to get hold of that record secretly and be sure whether the great vein of gas which the Deacon knew existed was on the property now owned by the Bartletts or that of the Landsdownes, and then he was going to buy that property before the owners knew about the gas, as the land would be worth a fortune if that fact ever became known. He was pretty sure, after discovering that sub-cellar, that the Deacon had left his papers down there when he went to California. By pounding on the walls he had discovered one place which he was sure was hollow. If the stone that covered the place could be removed by any trick he failed to discover it and had to resort to digging it out with a pick. This, as we already know, produced the dull thudding sound underground which had frightened the household almost out of their wits. The reason he could prowl around in the yard at night after they had set the dog to watch was that Pointer knew him and made no disturbance upon seeing him.
Abner Smalley was marched off triumphantly by Dave Beeman, and was held on such a complicated charge of house-breaking, arson, assault and battery, and intimidating peaceful citizens, that it took the combined efforts of the village to draw it up. Thus ended the great mystery which had kept Onoway House in more or less of an uproar all summer.
“I never saw anything like the way we Winnebagos have of falling into things,” said Sahwah. “Here Mr. Smalley made such elaborate efforts to find that record, using up more energy and ingenuity than it would take to dig up the whole farm and hunt for the gas well; and he didn’t find it in the end; and all I did was drop in on top of it without even suspecting its existence.”
“There must be a special destiny that guides us,” said Migwan. “Perhaps we possess an enchanted goblet, like the ‘Luck of Edenhall,’ only it’s ‘The Luck of the Winnebagos.’”
“Cheer for the ‘Luck of the Winnebagos,’” said Sahwah, who never lost an occasion to raise a cheer on any pretext. And at that Sahwah never dreamed of the extent of the good fortune she had brought the Bartletts by her lucky tumble. The vein of gas which was struck when they subsequently drilled proved a sensation even in that notable gas region and made millionaires of its owners. And the reward which Sahwah received for finding the record, and that which the others received “just for living,” as Migwan expressed it—for though they had not found the sub-cellar themselves it was due to their game that Sahwah had found it—drove the memory of their fright from their heads. But we are getting a little ahead of our story. There is one more chapter yet to the Luck of the Winnebagos before that remarkable summer came to an end.
After the departure of Abner Smalley things grew so quiet at Onoway House that Migwan, who had declared before that she would be a wreck if the excitement did not cease soon, was now complaining that things seemed flat and she wished the mystery hadn’t been cleared up because it robbed them of their chief topic of conversation.
“Well, I’m going to take advantage of the quiet atmosphere and straighten out my bureau drawers,” said Nyoda. “I haven’t been able to put my mind to it with all this excitement going on. And they’re a sight since you girls went rummaging for things for the Thieves’ Market.” In doing this she came upon that strange creation of Uncle Peter’s brain, the plan for the “Wasted Minute Saving Machine.” She showed it to the girls and they examined it wonderingly.
“What is this on the other side?” asked Migwan. “It’s a will!” she cried, reading it through. “It says, ‘I, Adam Smalley, give and bequeathe my farm on the Centerville Road to my son Jim, as Abner has already had his share in cash.’”
“Let me see!” cried Calvin. “It’s the latest one!” he shouted, reading the date. “It’s dated 1902 and the one Uncle Abner found was 1900. The farm is mine after all! Uncle Peter had this will in his possession and didn’t know it! How can I thank you girls for what you’ve done for me?”
“It was all Migwan’s fault,” said Hinpoha. “She insisted upon going to see whether the old man was all right after the storm.”
Migwan declared that she had had nothing to do with it; it was the Luck of the Winnebagos that had given her the inspiration. But Calvin knew well that in this case the Luck of the Winnebagos was only Migwan’s own thoughtfulness.
CHAPTER XIV.—GOOD-BYE TO ONOWAY HOUSE.
By the first of September Migwan had made enough money from the sale of canned tomatoes to more than pay her way through college the first year. “It’s Mother Nature who has been my fairy godmother,” she said to the girls. “I asked her for the money to go to college and she put her hand deep into her earth pocket and brought it out for me. It’s like the magic gardens in the fairy tales where the money grew on the bushes.”
“What a summer this has been, to be sure,” said Hinpoha, who was in a reflective mood. They were all sitting in the orchard, busy with various sorts of handwork. The day was hot and drowsy and the shade of the trees most inviting. “Migwan and I thought we would have such a quiet time together, just we two. She was going to write a book and I was going to illustrate it, when we weren’t working in the garden. And how differently it all turned out! One by one you other girls came—I’ll never forget how funny Gladys and Nyoda looked when they came out that night, and how surprised Sahwah was to find you here when she arrived. Then Gladys brought Ophelia, I mean Beatrice, and after that we never had a quiet moment. Then the mystery began and kept up all summer. Instead of these three months being a quiet rest they’ve been the most thrilling time of my life.”
“It seems to have agreed with you, though,” said Sahwah, mischievously, whereupon there was a general laugh, for Hinpoha, instead of growing thin with all the worry and excitement, had actually gained five pounds.
“As much worry as it caused me,” said Migwan, “I’m glad everything happened as it did. The summer I had looked forward to would have been horribly dull and uninteresting, but now I feel that I’ve had some real experiences. I’ve got enough ideas for stories to last for years to come.”
“And for moving picture plays,” said Hinpoha. “But,” she added, “if you go in for that sort of thing seriously, where am I coming in? You know we made a compact; I was to illustrate everything you wrote, and how am I going to illustrate moving picture plays?”
There was a ripple of amusement at her perplexity. “You’ll have to illustrate them by acting them out,” said Gladys. They all agreed Hinpoha would make a hit as a motion picture actress, all but Sahwah, who dropped her eyes to her lap when Migwan began to talk about moving pictures, and presently went into the house to fetch something she needed for her work. When she came out again the subject had been changed and was no longer embarrassing to her.
“What will the Bartletts say when they hear the peach crop was ruined by the wind storm?” asked Hinpoha.
“That’s the only thing about our summer experience that I really regret,” answered Migwan. “I wrote and told them about it, of course, when I told them about the gas well, and Mrs. Bartlett said we shouldn’t worry about it and that we ourselves were a crop of peaches.”
“The dear thing!” said Gladys. “I should love to see the Bartletts again some time; they were so friendly to us last summer, and it is all due to them that we have had such a glorious time this summer.”
Scarcely had she spoken when an automobile entered the drive and stopped beside the house. Migwan ran out to see who it was. The next moment she had her arms around the neck of a pretty little woman. “Oh, Mrs. Bartlett!” she cried. “Did the fairies bring you? We just made a wish to see you.”
Soon the girls were all flocking around the car, shaking hands with Mr. and Mrs. Bartlett, and making a fuss over little Raymond. How the Bartletts did sit up in astonishment when all the events of the summer were told in detail! “Well, you certainly are trumps for sticking it out,” said Mr. Bartlett, admiringly. “Nobody but a bunch of Camp Fire Girls would have done it.” At which the Winnebagos glowed with pride.
Now that the Bartletts had come to stay at Onoway House, Migwan decided she would go home a week earlier than she had planned, as there was not enough room for so many people there. Aunt Phœbe and the Doctor were in town again, so Hinpoha could go home if she wished; and Sahwah’s mother had also returned. They were a little sorry to break up so abruptly when they had planned quite a few things for that last week to celebrate the finishing of the canning, but all agreed that under the circumstances it was the best thing they could do.
“I really need a week at home,” said Migwan with a twinkle in her eye, “to rest up from my vacation. There I’ll get the peace and quiet that I came here to seek.” Take care, O Migwan, how you talk! Once before you predicted peace and quiet, and see what happened!
Before they went, however, they must have one more big time altogether, Mrs. Bartlett insisted, and she went into town on purpose to bring out Nakwisi and Chapa and Medmangi. Close behind them came another car which also stopped at Onoway House, and out of it stepped Mr. and Mrs. Evans and Aunt Beatrice and Uncle Lynn and little Beatrice, the latter dressed up in wonderful new clothes and already subtly changed, but still eager to romp with the girls and tag after Sahwah.
“See here,” said Mr. Evans, when they were all talking about going home the next day, “you girls have been working pretty hard this summer, and haven’t had a real vacation yet, why don’t you go for an automobile trip the last week? Gladys has her car; that is, if it came through all the excitement alive, and mother and I would be willing to let you take the other one. Go on a run of say a thousand miles or so, and see a few cities. The change will do you good.”
“Oh, papa!” cried Gladys, clapping her hands in rapture. “That will be wonderful!” And the other girls fell in love with the idea on the spot.
As this was to be their last night at Onoway House nothing was left undone that would make the occasion a happy one. The evening was fine and warm and the stars hung in the sky like great jeweled lamps. With one accord they all sought the garden and the orchard, where Gladys danced on the grass in the moonlight like a real fairy. Then all the girls danced together, until Mrs. Evans declared that they looked like the dancing nymphs in the Corot picture. And Beatrice, who had been taught those same things during the summer, broke away from her mother and joined in the dance, as light and graceful as Gladys herself. It was plain to see that she had the gift which ran in the family, and as her mother watched her with a thrill of pride her heart overflowed anew in thankfulness to the girls who had restored her daughter to her.
“On such a night,” quoted Migwan, looking up at the moon, “Leander swam the Hellespont——”
“The river!” cried Sahwah, immediately, “we must go out on the river once more. Oh, how can I say good-bye to the Tortoise-Crab?” And she shed imaginary tears into her handkerchief.
“Let’s go for one more float,” cried all the girls.
The grown-ups strolled down to the river bank and sat on the grassy slope, watching with indulgent interest what the girls were going to do next. They saw them coming far up the river and heard their song as it was wafted down on the scented breeze. Slowly and majestically the raft approached, with Sahwah standing up and guiding it with the pole. When it had come nearer the onlookers saw a romantic spectacle indeed. Gladys reposed on a bed of flowers and leaves, under a canopy of branches and vines, a ravishingly lovely Cleopatra. Beside her knelt Antony, otherwise Migwan, holding out to her a big white water lily. The other Winnebagos, as slave maidens, sat on the raft and wove flower wreaths or fanned their lovely mistress with leaf fans. It was the slaves who were doing the singing and their clear voices rang out with wonderful harmony on the enchanted air. On they came, past the spot where Sahwah had been hidden on the afternoon of the moving pictures; past the Lorelei Rock, where they had held that other pageant which had frightened Calvin so; past the spot where they lay concealed and watched the strange manœuvers of the supposed Venoti gang. Each rock and tree along the stream was pregnant with memories of that eventful summer, and they could hardly believe that they were saying good-bye to it all.
Now they were opposite the watchers on the bank and the murmurs of admiration reached their ears as they floated past. “What lovely voices——”
“What wonderful imaginations those girls have——”
“How beautifully they work together——”
Calvin looked on in speechless admiration, his eyes for the most part on Migwan. Never in his life had he regretted anything so much as he did the fact that these jolly friends of his were going away. He was to stay on his farm after all and now the prospect suddenly seemed empty.
The voices of the onlookers blended in the ears of the boaters with the murmur of the river as it flowed over the stones, and with the sighing of the wind in the willows as the raft passed on.
And here let us leave the Winnebagos for a time as we love best to see them, all together on the water, their voices raised in the wonder song of youth as they float down the river under the spell of the magic moonlight.
THE END.
The next volume in this series is entitled: The Camp Fire Girls Go Motoring; or, Along the Road that Leads the Way.
The Camp Fire Girls Series
By HILDEGARD G. FREY. The only series of stories for Camp Fire Girls endorsed by the officials of the Camp Fire Girls Organization.
PRICE, 40 CENTS PER VOLUME
THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS IN THE MAINE WOODS; or,
The Winnebagos go Camping.
This lively Camp Fire group and their Guardian go back to Nature in a camp in the wilds of Maine and pile up more adventures in one summer than they have had in all their previous vacations put together. Before the summer is over they have transformed Gladys, the frivolous boarding school girl, into a genuine Winnebago.
THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS AT SCHOOL; or,
The Wohelo Weavers.
It is the custom of the Winnebagos to weave the events of their lives into symbolic bead bands, instead of keeping a diary. All commendatory doings are worked out in bright colors, but every time the Law of the Camp Fire is broken it must be recorded in black. How these seven live wire girls strive to infuse into their school life the spirit of Work, Health and Love and yet manage to get into more than their share of mischief, is told in this story.
THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS AT ONOWAY HOUSE; or,
The Magic Garden.
Migwan is determined to go to college, and not being strong enough to work indoors earns the money by raising fruits and vegetables. The Winnebagos all turn a hand to help the cause along and the “goings-on” at Onoway House that summer make the foundations shake with laughter.
THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS GO MOTORING; or,
Along the Road That Leads the Way.
The Winnebagos take a thousand mile auto trip. The “pinching” of Nyoda, the fire in the country inn, the runaway girl and the dead-earnest hare and hound chase combine to make these three weeks the most exciting the Winnebagos have ever experienced.
For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers. A. L. BURT COMPANY, 114-120 East 23d Street, New York.
The Blue Grass Seminary Girls Series
By CAROLYN JUDSON BURNETT
Handsome Cloth Binding
Price, 40c. per Volume
Splendid Stories of the Adventures of a Group of Charming Girls
THE BLUE GRASS SEMINARY GIRLS’ VACATION ADVENTURES;
or, Shirley Willing to the Rescue.
THE BLUE GRASS SEMINARY GIRLS’ CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS;
or, A Four Weeks’ Tour with the Glee Club.
THE BLUE GRASS SEMINARY GIRLS IN THE MOUNTAINS;
or, Shirley Willing on a Mission of Peace.
THE BLUE GRASS SEMINARY GIRLS ON THE WATER;
or, Exciting Adventures on a Summer’s Cruise Through the
Panama Canal.
The Mildred Series
By MARTHA FINLEY
Handsome Cloth Binding
Price, 40c. per Volume
A Companion Series to the Famous “Elsie” Books by the Same Author
MILDRED KEITH
MILDRED AT ROSELANDS
MILDRED AND ELSIE
MILDRED’S NEW DAUGHTER
MILDRED’S MARRIED LIFE
MILDRED AT HOME
MILDRED’S BOYS AND GIRLS
For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers. A. L. BURT COMPANY, 114-120 East 23d Street, New York.
The Girl Chum’s Series
ALL AMERICAN AUTHORS.
ALL COPYRIGHT STORIES.
A carefully selected series of books for girls, written by popular authors. These are charming stories for young girls, well told and full of interest. Their simplicity, tenderness, healthy, interesting motives, vigorous action, and character painting will please all girl readers.
HANDSOME CLOTH BINDING.
PRICE, 60 CENTS.
BENHURST CLUB, THE. By Howe Benning.
BERTHA’S SUMMER BOARDERS. By Linnie S. Harris.
BILLOW PRAIRIE. A Story of Life in the Great West. By Joy Allison.
DUXBERRY DOINGS. A New England Story. By Caroline B. Le Row.
FUSSBUDGET’S FOLKS. A Story For Young Girls. By Anna F. Burnham.
HAPPY DISCIPLINE, A. By Elizabeth Cummings.
JOLLY TEN, THE. and Their Year of Stories. By Agnes Carr Sage.
KATIE ROBERTSON. A Girl’s Story of Factory Life. By M. E. Winslow.
LONELY HILL. A Story For Girls. By M. L. Thornton-Wilder.
MAJORIBANKS. A Girl’s Story. By Elvirton Wright.
MISS CHARITY’S HOUSE. By Howe Benning.
MISS ELLIOT’S GIRLS. A Story For Young Girls. By Mary Spring Corning.
MISS MALCOLM’S TEN. A Story For Girls. By Margaret E. Winslow.
ONE GIRL’S WAY OUT. By Howe Benning.
PEN’S VENTURE. By Elvirton Wright.
RUTH PRENTICE. A Story For Girls. By Marion Thorne.
THREE YEARS AT GLENWOOD. A Story of School Life. By M. E. Winslow.
For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers. A. L. BURT COMPANY, 114-120 East 23d Street, New York.
The Girl Comrade’s Series
ALL AMERICAN AUTHORS.
ALL COPYRIGHT STORIES.
A carefully selected series of books for girls, written by popular authors. These are charming stories for young girls, well told and full of interest. Their simplicity, tenderness, healthy, interesting motives, vigorous action, and character painting will please all girl readers.
HANDSOME CLOTH BINDING.
PRICE, 60 CENTS.
A BACHELOR MAID AND HER BROTHER. By I. T. Thurston.
ALL ABOARD. A Story For Girls. By Fanny E. Newberry.
ALMOST A GENIUS. A Story For Girls. By Adelaide L. Rouse.
ANNICE WYNKOOP, Artist. Story of a Country Girl. By Adelaide L. Rouse.
BUBBLES. A Girl’s Story. By Fannie E. Newberry.
COMRADES. By Fannie E. Newberry.
DEANE GIRLS, THE. A Home Story. By Adelaide L. Rouse.
HELEN BEATON, COLLEGE WOMAN. By Adelaide L. Rouse.
JOYCE’S INVESTMENTS. A Story For Girls. By Fannie E. Newberry.
MELLICENT RAYMOND. A Story For Girls. By Fannie E. Newberry.
MISS ASHTON’S NEW PUPIL. A School Girl’s Story. By Mrs. S. S. Robbins.
NOT FOR PROFIT. A Story For Girls. By Fannie E. Newberry.
ODD ONE, THE. A Story For Girls. By Fannie E. Newberry.
SARA, A PRINCESS. A Story For Girls. By Fannie E. Newberry.
For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers. A. L. BURT COMPANY, New York.
The AMY E. BLANCHARD Series
Miss Blanchard has won an enviable reputation as a writer of short stories for girls. Her books are thoroughly wholesome in every way and her style is full of charm. The titles described below will be splendid additions to every girl’s library.
Handsomely bound in cloth, full library size.
Illustrated by L. J. Bridgman. Price, 60 cents per volume, postpaid.
THE GLAD LADY. A spirited account of a remarkably pleasant vacation spent in an unfrequented part of northern Spain. This summer, which promised at the outset to be very quiet, proved to be exactly the opposite. Event follows event in rapid succession and the story ends with the culmination of at least two happy romances. The story throughout is interwoven with vivid descriptions of real places and people of which the general public knows very little. These add greatly to the reader’s interest.
WIT’S END. Instilled with life, color and individuality, this story of true love cannot fail to attract and hold to its happy end the reader’s eager attention. The word pictures are masterly; while the poise of narrative and description is marvellously preserved.
A JOURNEY OF JOY. A charming story of the travels and adventures of two young American girls, and an elderly companion in Europe. It is not only well told, but the amount of information contained will make it a very valuable addition to the library of any girl who anticipates making a similar trip. Their many pleasant experiences end in the culmination of two happy romances, all told in the happiest vein.
TALBOT’S ANGLES. A charming romance of Southern life. Talbot’s Angles is a beautiful old estate located on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. The death of the owner and the ensuing legal troubles render it necessary for our heroine, the present owner, to leave the place which has been in her family for hundreds of years and endeavor to earn her own living. Another claimant for the property appearing on the scene complicates matters still more. The untangling of this mixed-up condition of affairs makes an extremely interesting story.
For sale by all booksellers, or sent prepaid on receipt of price by the publishers. A. L. BURT COMPANY, 114-120 East 23d Street, New York
The Boy Spies Series
These stories are based on important historical events, scenes wherein boys are prominent characters being selected. They are the romance of history, vigorously told, with careful fidelity to picturing the home life, and accurate in every particular.
Handsome Cloth Bindings
PRICE, 60 CENTS PER VOLUME
THE BOY SPIES AT THE BATTLE OF NEW ORLEANS.
A story of the part they took in its defence.
By William P. Chipman.
THE BOY SPIES AT THE DEFENCE OF FORT HENRY.
A boy’s story of Wheeling Creek in 1777.
By James Otis.
THE BOY SPIES AT THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL.
A story of two boys at the siege of Boston.
By James Otis.
THE BOY SPIES AT THE SIEGE OF DETROIT.
A story of two Ohio boys in the War of 1812.
By James Otis.
THE BOY SPIES WITH LAFAYETTE.
The story of how two boys joined the Continental Army.
By James Otis.
THE BOY SPIES ON CHESAPEAKE BAY.
The story of two young spies under Commodore Barney.
By James Otis.
THE BOY SPIES WITH THE REGULATORS.
The story of how the boys assisted the Carolina Patriots to drive
the British from that State.
By James Otis.
THE BOY SPIES WITH THE SWAMP FOX.
The story of General Marion and his young spies.
By James Otis.
THE BOY SPIES AT YORKTOWN.
The story of how the spies helped General Lafayette in the
Siege of Yorktown.
By James Otis.
THE BOY SPIES OF PHILADELPHIA.
The story of how the young spies helped the Continental Army
at Valley Forge.
By James Otis.
THE BOY SPIES OF FORT GRISWOLD.
The story of the part they took in its brave defence.
By William P. Chipman.
THE BOY SPIES OF OLD NEW YORK.
The story of how the young spies prevented the capture of
General Washington.
By James Otis.
For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers. A. L. BURT COMPANY, 114-120 East 23d Street, New York
The Navy Boys Series
A series of excellent stories of adventure on sea and land, selected from the works of popular writers; each volume designed for boys’ reading.
Handsome Cloth Bindings
PRICE, 60 CENTS PER VOLUME
THE NAVY BOYS IN DEFENCE OF LIBERTY.
A story of the burning of the British schooner Gaspee in 1772.
By William Pman.
THE NAVY BOYS ON LONG ISLAND SOUND.
A story of the Whale Boat Navy of 1776.
By James Otis.
THE NAVY BOYS AT THE SIEGE OF HAVANA.
Being the experience of three boys serving under Israel Putnam
in 1772.
By James Otis.
THE NAVY BOYS WITH GRANT AT VICKSBURG.
A boy’s story of the siege of Vicksburg.
By James Otis.
THE NAVY BOYS’ CRUISE WITH PAUL JONES.
A boy’s story of a cruise with the Great Commodore in 1776.
By James Otis.
THE NAVY BOYS ON LAKE ONTARIO.
The story of two boys and their adventures in the War of 1812.
By James Otis.
THE NAVY BOYS’ CRUISE ON THE PICKERING.
A boy’s story of privateering in 1780.
By James Otis.
THE NAVY BOYS IN NEW YORK BAY.
A story of three boys who took command of the schooner “The Laughing
Mary,” the first vessel of the American Navy.
By James Otis.
THE NAVY BOYS IN THE TRACK OF THE ENEMY.
The story of a remarkable cruise with the Sloop of War “Providence”
and the Frigate “Alfred.”
By William Chipman.
THE NAVY BOYS’ DARING CAPTURE.
The story of how the navy boys helped to capture the British Cutter
“Margaretta,” in 1775.
By William Chipman.
THE NAVY BOYS’ CRUISE TO THE BAHAMAS.
The adventures of two Yankee Middies with the first cruise of an
American Squadron in 1775.
By William Chipman.
THE NAVY BOYS’ CRUISE WITH COLUMBUS.
The adventures of two boys who sailed with the great Admiral in his
discovery of America.
By Frederick A. Ober
For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers. A. L. BURT COMPANY, 114-120 East 23d Street, New York
The Jack Lorimer Series
Volumes By WINN STANDISH
Handsomely Bound in Cloth
Full Library Size—Price
40 cents per Volume, postpaid
CAPTAIN JACK LORIMER;
or, The Young Athlete of Millvale High.
Jack Lorimer is a fine example of the all-around American high-school boyfondness for clean, honest sport of all kinds will strike a chord of sympathy among athletic youths.
JACK LORIMER’S CHAMPIONS;
or, Sports on Land and Lake.
There is a lively story woven in with the athletic achievements, which are all right, since the book has been by Chadwick, the Nestor of American sporting Journalism.
JACK LORIMER’S HOLIDAYS;
or, Millvale High in Camp.
It would be well not to put this book into a boy’s hands until the chores are finished, otherwise they might be neglected.
JACK LORIMER’S SUBSTITUTE;
or, The Acting Captain of the Team.
On the sporting side, the book takes up football, wrestling, tobogganing. There is a good deal of fun in this book and plenty of action.
JACK LORIMER, FRESHMAN;
or, From Millvale High to Exmouth.
Jack and some friends he makes crowd innumerable happenings into an exciting freshman year at one of the leading Eastern colleges. The book is typical of the American college boy’s life, and there is a lively story, interwoven with feats on the gridiron, hockey, basketball and other clean, honest sports for which Jack Lorimer stands.
For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers. A. L. BURT COMPANY, 114-120 East 23d Street, New York.
The Boy Allies With the Battleships
(Registered in the United States Patent Office)
By ENSIGN ROBERT L. DRAKE
Price, 40 Cents per Volume, Postpaid
Frank Chadwick and Jack Templeton, young American lads, meet each other in an unusual way soon after the declaration of war. Circumstances place them on board the British cruiser “The Sylph” and from there on, they share adventures with the sailors of the Allies. Ensign Robert L. Drake, the author, is an experienced naval officer, and he describes admirably the many exciting adventures of the two boys.
THE BOY ALLIES UNDER THE SEA;
or, The Vanishing Submarine.
THE BOY ALLIES IN THE BALTIC;
or, Through Fields of Ice to Aid the Czar.
THE BOY ALLIES ON THE NORTH SEA PATROL;
or, Striking the First Blow at the German Fleet.
THE BOY ALLIES UNDER TWO FLAGS;
or, Sweeping the Enemy from the Seas.
THE BOY ALLIES WITH THE FLYING SQUADRON;
or, The Naval Raiders of the Great War.
THE BOY ALLIES WITH THE TERROR OF THE SEAS;
or, The Last Shot of Submarine D-16.
The Boy Allies With the Army
(Registered in the United States Patent Office)
By CLAIR W. HAYES
Price, 40 Cents per Volume, Postpaid
In this series we follow the fortunes of two American lads unable to leave Europe after war is declared. They meet the soldiers of the Allies, and decide to cast their lot with them. Their experiences and escapes are many, and furnish plenty of the good, healthy action that every boy loves.
THE BOY ALLIES IN GREAT PERIL;
or, With the Italian Army in the Alps.
THE BOY ALLIES IN THE BALKAN CAMPAIGN;
or, The Struggle to Save a Nation.
THE BOY ALLIES AT LIEGE;
or, Through Lines of Steel.
THE BOY ALLIES ON THE FIRING LINE;
or, Twelve Days Battle Along the Marne.
THE BOY ALLIES WITH THE COSSACKS;
or, A Wild Dash over the Carpathians.
THE BOY ALLIES IN THE TRENCHES;
or, Midst Shot and Shell Along the Aisne
The Boy Scouts Series
By HERBERT CARTER
Price, 40 Cents per Volume, Postpaid
THE BOY SCOUTS ON WAR TRAILS IN BELGIUM;
or, Caught Between the Hostile Armies.
In this volume we follow the thrilling adventures of the boys in the midst of the exciting struggle abroad.
THE BOY SCOUTS DOWN IN DIXIE;
or, The Strange Secret of Alligator Swamp.
Startling experiences awaited the comrades when they visited the Southland. But their knowledge of woodcraft enabled them to overcome all difficulties.
THE BOY SCOUTS AT THE BATTLE OF SARATOGA.
A story of Burgoyne’s defeat in 1777.
THE BOY SCOUTS’ FIRST CAMP FIRE;
or, Scouting with the Silver Fox Patrol.
This book brims over with woods lore and the thrilling adventure that befell the Boy Scouts during their vacation in the wilderness.
THE BOY SCOUTS IN THE BLUE RIDGE;
or, Marooned Among the Moonshiners.
This story tells of the strange and mysterious adventures that happened to the Patrol in their trip among the moonshiners of North Carolina.
THE BOY SCOUTS ON THE TRAIL;
or, Scouting through the Big Game Country.
The story recites the adventures of the members of the Silver Fox Patrol with wild animals of the forest trails and the desperate men who had sought a refuge in this lonely country.
THE BOY SCOUTS IN THE MAINE WOODS;
or, The New Test for the Silver Fox Patrol.
Thad and his chums have a wonderful experience when they are employed by the State of Maine to act as Fire Wardens.
THE BOY SCOUTS THROUGH THE BIG TIMBER;
or, The Search for the Lost Tenderfoot.
A serious calamity threatens the Silver Fox Patrol. How apparent disaster is bravely met and overcome by Thad and his friends, forms the main theme of the story.
THE BOY SCOUTS IN THE ROCKIES;
or, The Secret of the Hidden Silver Mine.
The boys’ tour takes them into the wildest region of the great Rocky Mountains and here they meet with many strange adventures.
THE BOY SCOUTS ON STURGEON ISLAND;
or, Marooned Among the Game Fish Poachers.
Thad Brewster and his comrades find themselves in the predicament that confronted old Robinson Crusoe; only it is on the Great Lakes that they are wrecked instead of the salty sea.
THE BOY SCOUTS ALONG THE SUSQUEHANNA;
or, The Silver Fox Patrol Caught in a Flood.
The boys of the Silver Fox Patrol, after successfully braving a terrific flood, become entangled in a mystery that carries them through many exciting adventures.
The Boy Chums Series
By WILMER M. ELY
Price. 40 Cents per Volume. Postpaid
In this series of remarkable stories are described the adventures of two boys in the great swamps of interior Florida, among the cays off the Florida coast, and through the Bahama Islands. These are real, live boys, and their experiences are worth following.
THE BOY CHUMS IN MYSTERY LAND;
or, Charlie West and Walter Hazard among the Mexicans.
THE BOY CHUMS ON INDIAN RIVER;
or, The Boy Partners of the Schooner “Orphan.”
THE BOY CHUMS ON HAUNTED ISLAND;
or, Hunting for Pearls in the Bahama Islands.
THE BOY CHUMS IN THE FOREST;
or, Hunting for Plume Birds in the Florida Everglades.
THE BOY CHUMS’ PERILOUS CRUISE;
or, Searching for Wreckage en the Florida Coast.
THE BOY CHUMS IN THE GULF OF MEXICO;
or, A Dangerous Cruise with the Greek Spongers.
THE BOY CHUMS CRUISING IN FLORIDA WATERS;
or, The Perils and Dangers of the Fishing Fleet.
THE BOY CHUMS IN THE FLORIDA JUNGLE;
or, Charlie West and Walter Hazard with the Seminole Indians.
The Broncho Rider Boys Series
By FRANK FOWLER
Price, 40 Cents per Volume, Postpaid
A series of thrilling stories for boys, breathing the adventurous spirit that lives in the wide plains and lofty mountain canoes of the great West. These tales will delight every lad who loves to read of pleasing adventure in the open; yet at the same time the most careful parent need not hesitate to place them in the hands of the boy.
THE BRONCHO RIDER BOYS WITH FUNSTON AT VERA CRUZ;
or, Upholding the Honor of the Stars and Stripes.
When trouble breaks out between this country and Mexico, the boys are eager to join the American troops under General Funston. Their attempts to reach Vera Cruz are fraught with danger, but after many difficulties, they manage to reach the trouble zone, where their real adventures begin.
THE BRONCHO RIDER BOYS AT KEYSTONE RANCH;
or, Three Chums of the Saddle and Lariat.
In this story the reader makes the acquaintance of three devoted chums. The book begins in rapid action, and there is “something doing” up to the very time you lay it down.
THE BRONCHO RIDER BOYS DOWN IN ARIZONA;
or, A Struggle for the Great Copper Lode.
The Broncho Rider Boys find themselves impelled to make a brave fight against heavy odds, in order to retain possession of a valuable mine that is claimed by some of their relatives. They meet with numerous strange and thrilling perils and every wideawake boy will be pleased to learn how the boys finally managed to outwit their enemies.
THE BRONCHO RIDER BOYS ALONG THE BORDER;
or, The Hidden Treasure of the Zuni Medicine Man.
Once more the tried and true comrades of camp and trail are in the saddle. In the strangest possible way they are drawn into a series of exciting happenings among the Zuni Indians. Certainly no lad will lay this book down, save with regret.
THE BRONCHO RIDER BOYS ON THE WYOMING TRAIL;
or, A Mystery of the Prairie Stampede.
The three prairie pards finally find a chance to visit the Wyoming ranch belonging to Adrian, but managed for him by an unscrupulous relative. Of course, they become entangled in a maze of adventurous doings while in the Northern cattle country. How the Broncho Rider Boys carried themselves through this nerve-testing period makes intensely interesting reading.
THE BRONCHO RIDER BOYS WITH THE TEXAS RANGERS;
or, The Smugglers of the Rio Grande.
In this volume, the Broncho Rider Boys get mixed up in the Mexican troubles, and become acquainted with General Villa. In their efforts to prevent smuggling across the border, they naturally make many enemies, but finally succeed in their mission.
The Big Five Motorcycle Boys Series
By RALPH MARLOW
Price, 40 Cents per Volume, Postpaid
It is doubtful whether a more entertaining lot of boys ever before appeared in a story than the “Big Five,” who figure in the pages of these volumes. From cover to cover the reader will be thrilled and delighted with the accounts of their many adventures.
THE BIG FIVE MOTORCYCLE BOYS ON THE BATTLE LINE;
or, With the Allies in France.
THE BIG FIVE MOTORCYCLE BOYS AT THE FRONT;
or, Carrying Dispatches Through Belgium.
THE BIG FIVE MOTORCYCLE BOYS UNDER FIRE;
or, With the Allies in the War Zone.
THE BIG FIVE MOTORCYCLE BOYS’ SWIFT ROAD CHASE;
or, Surprising the Bank Robbers.
THE BIG FIVE MOTORCYCLE BOYS ON FLORIDA TRAILS;
or, Adventures Among the Saw Palmetto Crackers.
THE BIG FIVE MOTORCYCLE BOYS IN TENNESSEE WILDS;
or, The Secret of Walnut Ridge.
THE BIG FIVE MOTORCYCLE BOYS THROUGH BY WIRELESS;
or, A Strange Message from the Air.
Our Young Aeroplane Scouts Series
(Registered in the United States Patent Office)
By HORACE PORTER
Price, 40 Cents per Volume, Postpaid
A series of stories of two American boy aviators in the great European war zone. The fascinating life in mid-air is thrillingly described. The boys have many exciting adventures, and the narratives of their numerous escapes make up a series of wonderfully interesting stories.
OUR YOUNG AEROPLANE SCOUTS IN ENGLAND;
or, Twin Stars in the London Sky Patrol.
OUR YOUNG AEROPLANE SCOUTS IN ITALY;
or, Flying with the War Eagles of the Alps.
OUR YOUNG AEROPLANE SCOUTS IN FRANCE AND BELGIUM;
or, Saving the Fortunes of the Trouvilles.
OUR YOUNG AEROPLANE SCOUTS IN GERMANY;
OUR YOUNG AEROPLANE SCOUTS IN RUSSIA;
or, Lost on the Frozen Steppes.
OUR YOUNG AEROPLANE SCOUTS IN TURKEY;
or, Bringing the Light to Yusef.