CHAPTER I. UNWILLING PASSENGERS. "What is your name, boy?" "Joe Curtis, sir." "And your number? " " Two hundred and ninety-seven." " Very well, now listen to what I say, and see that you do exactly as I tell you. I am going to Providence by the Sound steamer that sails in an hour and a half; take these tickets, go to the office of the boat, get the key of the stateroom I have engaged and paid for, and put these satchels in it." "Yes, sir."... more...

THE AMATEUR. "I ain't sayin' as how I could run a whole fire, same as some of the chiefs do; but when it comes to drivin' an engine, Dan Roberts, an' doin' it in time to get the first water, or layin' hose, I wouldn't knuckle down to the biggest man in the Department." "Now see here, Seth Bartlett, what's the sense of talkin' that way? It would be a good deal better, an' I ain't the only one who says it, if you'd stick right to shinin', an'... more...

CHAPTER I. AN ADVERTISEMENT. A small boy with a tiny white dog in his arms stood near the New York approach to the Brooklyn Bridge on a certain June morning not many years since, gazing doubtfully at the living tide which flowed past him, as if questioning whether it might be safe to venture across the street. Seth Barrows, otherwise known by his acquaintances as Limpy Seth, because of what they were pleased to speak of as "a pair of legs that... more...

CHAPTER ITHE ISLAND In the year of grace 1758 there were two families living on that island which we of to-day call Mount Desert; but Champlain named Mons Deserts, because its thirteen high, rugged mountains could be seen from the seaward a distance of twenty leagues, making it the first landmark of the coast for seamen. It is said, by those gentlemen who write down historical facts for us young people to study, that the "savages were much... more...

CHAPTER I. DICK'S DADDY.   etween Fox Peak and Smoke Creek Desert, on the western edge of the State of Nevada, is a beautiful valley, carpeted with bunch grass, which looks particularly bright and green to the venturesome traveller who has just crossed either of the two deserts lying toward the east. "Buffalo Meadows" the Indians named it, because of the vast herds of American bison found there before the white men hunted simply for the... more...

CHAPTER I THE BREAKER BOY   "Jest moved here, eh?" "Came last Friday." "And you are going into the breaker?" "Yes." "For thirty-five cents a day?" "That is all the company pays, and a green hand can't expect to get more." "Were you ever in a mine before?" "I never even saw one." "A trip down the slope will be enough to make you wish such a place in which to earn a living never existed. Why don't you try something else before it is... more...

JET "What's your name?" "Jethro Lewis." "How old are you?" "I don't know." "Judging from the size I shouldn't say you were over ten." "My size 's against me, that's a fact; but I can run a good deal faster than some fellers twice as big." The manager of the District Messenger Station did not attempt to conceal a smile as the boy spoke thus earnestly, and continued the examination by asking: "Where do you live?" "Down on East Tenth... more...

THE SCHEME "Why, we could start a circus jest as easy as a wink, Toby, 'cause you know all about one an' all you'd have to do would be to tell us fellers what to do, an' we'd 'tend to the rest." "Yes; but you see we hain't got a tent, or bosses, or wagons, or nothin', an' I don't see how you could get a circus up that way;" and the speaker hugged his knees as he rocked himself to and fro in a musing way on the rather sharp point of a large... more...

THE PROJECT "I fear you are undertaking too much, Neal. When a fellow lacks two years of his majority—" "You forget that I have been my own master more than a year. Father gave me my time before he died, and that in the presence of Governor Wentworth himself." "Why before him rather than 'Squire White?" "I don't know. My good friend Andrew McCleary attended to the business for me, and to-day I may make contracts as legally as two years... more...

THE "CHUMS." The puffing, panting engine that dragged the long train of heavy cars into the busy little city of Bradford, in the State of Pennsylvania, one day last summer, witnessed through its one white, staring eye, sometimes called the head-light, many happy meetings between waiting and coming friends; but none was more hearty than that between two college mates—one who had graduated the year previous, and the other who hoped to carry... more...