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Showing: 1-10 results of 31

CHAPTER I IN DEADLY PERIL “Great Scott! Look at this!” Joe Matson, or “Baseball Joe,” as he was better known throughout the country, sprang to his feet and held out a New York paper with headlines which took up a third of the page. There were three other occupants of the room in the cozy home at Riverside, where Joe had come to rest up after his glorious victory in the last game of the World’s Series, and they... more...

TWO LETTERS "Whew!" whistled Joe Matson, the astonishment on his bronzed face being indicated by his surprised exclamation of: "Well, what do you know about that, Sis?" "What is it, Joe?" asked his sister Clara, as she looked up from a letter she was reading to see her brother staring at a sheet of paper he had just withdrawn from an envelope, for the morning mail had been delivered a few minutes before. "What is it?" the girl went on, laying... more...

OLD BILLY. The summer at Marbury had begun. On the 20th of June, after seeing the Europe-bound party off for New York, the Ward children had arrived, bag and baggage, under Auntie Jean's escort. Early the first morning after their arrival, Cricket awoke Eunice with a punch. "Eunice, what do you think I am going to do to-day? and I'm going to do it every day till I succeed." "Don't know, I'm sure," said Eunice, sleepily. "Don't tumble round... more...

HORSE TALK. "He's a beauty!" Jack Diamond uttered the exclamation. He was admiring a horse Frank Merriwell had lately purchased. "He is," agreed Danny Griswold, with his hands thrust deep into his trousers pockets and his short legs set far apart. "But think of paying a thousand dollars!" "He looks like a racer," declared Bruce Browning, who showed unusual interest and animation for a fellow who was known as the laziest man at Yale. "He's... more...

CHAPTER I. THREE YEARS AFTER. "This is the spot, Bessie," said Levi Fairfield, as he paused on the bank of the brook which flows into the bay near Mike's Point. "But what was the thing you made?" asked Bessie Watson, as she looked with interest at the place indicated, though she could not see anything very remarkable, or even strange. "It was a young saw-mill," laughed Levi. "It rested on those flat stones you see there; but the dam is... more...


Mr Sudberry in his Counting-House. Mr John Sudberry was a successful London merchant. He was also a fat little man. Moreover, he was a sturdy little man, wore spectacles, and had a smooth bald head, over which, at the time we introduce him to the reader, fifty summers had passed, with their corresponding autumns, winters, and springs. The passage of so many seasons over him appeared to have exercised a polishing influence on the merchant, for Mr... more...

CHAPTER I IN THE SNOW "Now then, let's see who can put a shot through that round hole in the tree-trunk up there. Take a try, Sid." "Must be twenty yards away from here, if a foot, eh, Bristles?" "More like twenty-five to me, Colon; and looks farther than from first base to third, on the diamond." "Line up, everybody, and we'll soon find out who takes the cake at making a center shot. But hadn't we better bar out Fred Fenton?" "What for,... more...

CHAPTER I. RICHARD GRANT AND FRIEND GET INTO AN AWFUL SCRAPE. "Now, steady as she is," said Sandy Brimblecom, who lay upon the half-deck of the Greyhound, endeavoring to peer through the darkness of a cloudy night, which had settled deep and dense upon the Hudson, and obscured every object on the shore. "Steady as she is, Dick, and we shall go in all right." "Ay, ay; steady it is," replied Richard Grant, who was at the helm. "Port a little!... more...

INTERFERENCE "Can I see you a minute, Coach?" "Yes, Mack. Come in." Mack Carver, substitute back on Grinnell University's varsity squad, stepped across the threshold of Coach Edward's office. He carried his one hundred and eighty-seven pounds easily and with an athletic swagger. But he scowled as he entered, indicating that his call was about an unpleasant matter. "Well, boy—what's on your mind?" smiled the Coach, straightening up... more...

CHAPTER I THE BOY FROM KANSAS "Hold up!" Coach Robey, coatless, vestless, hatless, his old flannel trousers held up as by a miracle with the aid of a leather strap scarcely deserving the name of belt, pushed his way through the first squad players. The Brimfield Head Coach was a wiry, medium-sized man of about thirty, with a deeply-tanned face from which sharp blue eyes looked out under whitish lashes that were a shade lighter than his... more...