Boys / Men Books

AT THE EDGE OF THE FIRE A pall of smoke, dark, ugly, threatening, hung over a wood in which the Thirty-ninth Troop of the Boy Scouts had been spending a Saturday afternoon in camp. They had been hard at work at signal practice, semaphoring, and acquiring speed in Morse signaling with flags, which makes wireless unnecessary when there are enough signalers, covering enough ground. The Scout camp was near... more...

CHAPTER I. A HALT BY THE ROADSIDE. "Tara—tara!" Loud and clear sounded the notes of a bugle, blown by a very stout lad, clad in a new suit of khaki; and who was one of a bunch of Boy Scouts tramping wearily along a dusty road. "Good for you, Bumpus! Can't he just make that horn talk, though?" cried one. "Sounds as sweet as the church bell at home, fellows!" declared a... more...

PREFACE It was good advice that Rudyard Kipling gave his "young British soldier" in regard to the latter's rifle:"She's human as you are—you treat her as sichAnd she'll fight for the young British soldier." Tommy Atkins' rifle was by no means the first inanimate or dumb thing to prove human and to deserve human treatment. Animals of all sorts have been given this... more...

Chapter I CAMPING IN THE BREAKER "And so I says to myself, says I, give me a good husky band of Boy Scouts! They'll do the job if it can be done!" Case Canfield, caretaker, sat back in a patched chair in the dusky, unoccupied office of the Labyrinth mine and addressed himself to four lads of seventeen who were clad in the khaki uniform of the Boy Scouts of America. Those of our readers who... more...

CHAPTER I A Proposal and an Acceptance Alvin Landon and Chester Haynes were having a merry time in the home of Mike Murphy, when a servant knocked and made known that a caller was awaiting Alvin in the handsome bungalow belonging to his father. I have told you how the boys hurried thither, wondering who he could be, and how they were astonished to find him the “man in gray,” who had become... more...

CHAPTER I PLANS FOR THE HOLIDAYS "Where are you going to spend the holidays, Frank?" The speaker was Henri Martin, a French boy of the new type that has sprung up in France since games like football and tennis began to be generally encouraged. He asked the question of his schoolmate, Frank Barnes, son of a French mother and an American father. Frank's name was really Francois; his mother... more...

Toadstools! “Oh, I say, here’s a game! What’s he up to now?” “Hi! Vane! Old weathercock! Hold hard!” “Do you hear? Which way does the wind blow?” Three salutations shouted at a lad of about sixteen, who had just shown himself at the edge of a wood on the sunny slope of the Southwolds, one glorious September morning, when the spider-webs were still glittering with iridescent colours, as... more...

CHAPTER I. I FIND MYSELF A FOUNDLING. My earliest recollections are of a square courtyard surrounded by high walls and paved with blue and white pebbles in geometrical patterns—circles, parallelograms, and lozenges. Two of these walls were blank, and had been coped with broken bottles; a third, similarly coped, had heavy folding doors of timber, leaden-grey in colour and studded with black... more...

INTRODUCTION It gives me sincere pleasure to introduce to mothers and kindergartners a pioneer writer in the unexplored field of simple, realistic stories for little children. Miss Verhoeff is a trained kindergartner who has brought to her profession a college training as well as a true devotion to children. It was in one of the free kindergartens situated in the less fortunate localities of Louisville... more...

TOM MAKES A PROMISE Tom Slade hoisted up his trousers, tightened his belt, and lounged against the railing outside the troop room, listening dutifully but rather sullenly to his scoutmaster. "All I want you to do, Tom," said Mr. Ellsworth, "is to have a little patience—just a little patience." "A little tiny one—about as big as Pee-wee," added Roy. "A little bigger than... more...