Boys / Men Books

CHAPTER I BREWSTER'S CENTRE Maybe you think just because scouts go camping in the summer time, and take hikes and all that, that there's nothing to do in the winter. But I'm always going to stick up for winter, that's one sure thing. Anyway, this story isn't exactly a winter story, it's a kind of a fall story—lightweight. Maybe after this I'll write a heavyweight... more...

CHAPTER I A GREAT SURPRISE FOR THE PLUMMERS Mamma Plummer read a letter at the dinner-table before she touched her soup. She had been having visitors and had not had time to look at it before. And she was always in a hurry to hear from Aunt Kate. Aunt Kate! All seven of the young Plummers pricked up their ears. Aunt Kate was “the right kind,” as Tom Plummer said. She remembered all the young... more...

CHAPTER I When Pee-wee Harris returned from Temple Camp in the fall, he found himself a scout without a patrol. He had indulged in a colossal speculation and lost out. Forsaking the Raving Ravens, he had set forth to mobilize all the small, unattached boys at camp into the Pollywog Patrol, but the Pollywog Patrol had proved about as substantial as the shifting sand. Like the beloved Black Lake it had... more...

MITCH MILLER Mitch MillerSupposin' you was lyin' in a room and was asleep or pretty near asleep; and bein' asleep you could hear people talkin' but it didn't mean nothin' to you—just talk; and you kind of knew things was goin' on around you, but still you was way off in your sleep and belonged to yourself as a sleeper, and what was goin' on didn't make no... more...

CHAPTER I. THE ATTACK ON THE HEATH. Jack Haydon, prefect of Rushmere School and captain of the first fifteen, walked swiftly out of the school gates and turned along the high road. He had leave to go to the little town of Longhampton, three miles away, to visit a day-scholar, a great friend of his, now on the sick list. He was alone, and he swung along at a cracking pace, for he could walk as well as... more...

Chapter XVIII. The Prince with the tramps. The troop of vagabonds turned out at early dawn, and set forward on their march.  There was a lowering sky overhead, sloppy ground under foot, and a winter chill in the air.  All gaiety was gone from the company; some were sullen and silent, some were irritable and petulant, none were gentle-humoured, all were thirsty. The Ruffler put 'Jack' in... more...

CHAPTER I "Here we go!" "We're off!" "Look quick, or we'll be out of your sight." The long, low motor-boat glided smoothly out from the dock to which it had been made fast. Behind it the water boiled as if it had been stirred by some invisible furnace. The graceful lines of the boat, its manifest power and speed, formed a fitting complement to the bright sunshine and... more...

THE BOYS OF THE BEAVER PATROL "They all think, fellows, that the Beaver Patrol can't do it!" "We'll show 'em how we've climbed up out of the tenderfoot class; hey, boys?" "Just watch our smoke, that's all. Why, it's only a measly little twenty-five miles per day, and what d'ye think?" "Sure Seth, and what's that to a husky lot of Boy... more...

CHAPTER I A COLLISION IN THE FOG "Wow! Look at that one! That's a monster!" "That must be the ninth wave." "What do you mean by the ninth wave, Jack?" "Why, Arnold, don't you know that every third wave is bigger than the two preceding it and that every ninth wave is bigger than the preceding eight?" queried Jack Stanley. "No, can't say that I ever knew... more...

CHAPTER I The dark growth of scrub oak and pine parted suddenly and the lithe figure of a boy of about seventeen emerged suddenly into the little clearing. The lad who had so abruptly materialized from the close-growing vegetation peculiar to the region about the little town of Hampton, on the south shore of Long Island, wore a well-fitting uniform of brown khaki, canvas leggings of the same hue and a... more...