Action & Adventure Books

CHAPTER I. "Must I do it, grandpa?" "Of course you must! I'm afraid you ain't a true Granger, Ralph, or you wouldn't ask no such question." "But why should I do it, grandpa?" "Listen at the boy." The sharp-eyed, grizzled old man rose from his seat before the fire, and took down an ancient looking, muzzle loading rifle from over the cabin door.... more...

Preparations for the Chase. Fred Temple was a tall, handsome young fellow of about five-and-twenty. He had a romantic spirit, a quiet gentlemanly manner, a pleasant smile, and a passionate desire for violent exercise. To look at him you would have supposed that he was rather a lazy man, for all his motions were slow and deliberate. He was never in a hurry, and looked as if it would take a great deal to... more...

THE PLAY COMMENCES. Blown to bits; bits so inconceivably, so ineffably, so "microscopically" small that—but let us not anticipate. About the darkest hour of a very dark night, in the year 1883, a large brig lay becalmed on the Indian Ocean, not far from that region of the Eastern world which is associated in some minds with spices, volcanoes, coffee, and piratical junks, namely, the Malay... more...

Chapter One. “‘Honesty is the best policy,’ Tom, you may depend on it,” said a youth to his companion, one afternoon, as they walked along the margin of one of those brawling rivulets which, born amid the snows of the Rocky Mountain peaks, run a wild and plunging course of many miles before finding comparative rest in the celebrated goldfields of Oregon. “I don’t agree with you, Fred,”... more...

Preface. So extraordinary are the adventures of my hero, Master Richard Cheveley, son of the Reverend John Cheveley, vicar of the parish of S—, in the county of D—, that it is possible some of my readers may be inclined to consider them incredible, but that they are thoroughly probable the following paragraph which appeared in the evening edition of the Standard early in the month of November,... more...

CHAPTER I. OFF FOR EUROPE. "Off———" "At last!" "Hurrah!" The tramp steamer "Eagle" swung out from the pier and was fairly started en her journey from New York to Liverpool. On the deck of the steamer stood a group of five persons, three of whom had given utterance to the exclamations recorded above. On the pier swarmed a group of Yale students, waving hands, hats,... more...

CHAPTER I MR. TITMOUSE DOESN'T KNOW DICK "We thought ten dollars would be about right," Dick Prescott announced. "Per week?" inquired Mr. Titmouse, as though he doubted his hearing. "Oh, dear, no! For the month of August, sir." Mr. Newbegin Titmouse surveyed his young caller through half-closed eyelids. "Ten dollars for the use of that fine wagon for a whole month?"... more...

SOMETHING ABOUT THE NUGGET. "Yes, sir; it's just like I tell you. Every coyote on this here ranch, mean and sneaking as he is, is worth forty dollars to the man who can catch him." "Then what is the reason Carlos and I can't make some money this winter?" "You mout, and then again you moutn't. It aint everybody who can coax one of them smart prowlers to stick his foot... more...

My Friends and I. “Hark! the bells of Saint Michael’s are sending forth a jovial peal!” exclaimed Lancelot Kerridge, as he, Dick Harvey, and I were one day on board his boat fishing for mackerel, about two miles off the sea-port town of Lyme. “What they are saying I should mightily like to know, for depend on’t it’s something of importance. Haul in the lines, Ben!” he continued,... more...

CHAPTER I. THE MOUNTAIN-CABIN. "What's the news, Ben? You didn't happen to bring an evenin' paper, did you?" The speaker was a tall, loose-jointed man, dressed as a miner in a garb that appeared to have seen considerable service. His beard was long and untrimmed, and on his head he wore a Mexican sombrero. This was Jake Bradley, a rough but good-hearted miner, who was stretched... more...