Read The Bungalow Boys in the Great Northwest Page 23


  CHAPTER XXIII.

  HEMMED IN BY FLAMES.

  "I guess that this is as far as it will be safe to come."

  It was Mr. Chillingworth who spoke. The little party had, by painfullycreeping forward down the side of the jutting headland, managed to reacha position in the rear of the big shed which housed the Chinese underordinary conditions. It now appeared, though, that it was empty.Doubtless its occupants had either fled in terror or had joined in themad rioting.

  From their point of vantage they had a clear view of all that washappening within the settlement itself, lit up as the place was by theglare-light.

  They could see men rushing about the streets, if such the thoroughfaresbetween the shanties could be called. The red glow of the flames shoneon their faces, swollen and heated by the fire and excitement, andperhaps by liquor, too. For they could see where a group had gatheredabout a big cask and was broaching it freely.

  "Good heavens," exclaimed the rancher, "if they have started drinkingwhat will happen?"

  The professor uttered a groan. Anxiety for his boy was preying cruellyon him. He had all he could do to keep himself from rushing out fromtheir hiding place and boldly demanding the lad, be the consequenceswhat they might.

  Hitherto, however, the counsel of the others had prevented his takingsuch a mad step. In the present mood of the men there was no telling towhat lengths their folly might lead them. All felt that it would bedangerous to cross any of them for the present at least.

  Suddenly a louder shout than the frenzied whoops and yells with whichthe mutineers had been making the night hideous, rent the air. It camefrom the neighborhood of the flames which were now dying down. Evidentlysomething was taking place out of the ordinary.

  "They're coming this way!" shouted the professor presently; "what canhave happened now!"

  Nearer and nearer grew the babel of shouts. All at once, from around thecorner of one of the huts appeared the figure of a man. He was running.Even at the distance at which they stood they could catch his sharp,quick breaths. Whoever the runner was he was almost spent. He carriedsome object in his arms, too. It looked like a sack of some sort.

  Hardly had the figure appeared before around the corner in close pursuitof the runner there flashed a dozen or more forms. They were shoutingwildly, and as they caught sight of their quarry they set up a yell.

  "After him, boys!" came a shout from one of them.

  "Kill the dirty dog!" came another yell.

  "Yes, he is the cause of all our troubles, the beast!" screamed anothervoice.

  "Good heavens, it's Hunt!" cried Tom suddenly.

  "And he has my boy in his arms!" shouted the professor the next instant.Casting all prudence aside, he dashed out of his hiding place toward thealmost spent runner. Hunt ran staggeringly, reeling from side to side.He seemed to be wounded.

  "It's all up now," groaned Tom, as he saw the lanky form of thescientist spring out.

  "Well, I don't know that I blame him," said Chillingworth, "it's hisboy, you know."

  Tom nodded soberly, but made no verbal reply. His wits were too hard atwork trying to devise something to do to get the professor out of hispredicament, for, as the scientist had rushed up to Hunt and seized hisboy from the red-headed mate's arms, the frenzied mutineers had openedfire.

  "Follow me! Quick!" shouted Tom, as he perceived the scientist's danger.With the others close at his heels he dashed out with a loud "Whoop!"

  He calculated on the effect of his wild cry and sudden appearance tocheck the onrush of the mutineers. It worked as he had expected.Stricken with astonishment they halted for an instant. But that instantwas enough.

  "Here--get in here quick!" shouted Tom as he grasped the professor andwhirled him about. The next moment the scientist had been propelled byTom's strong young arms into the dark interior of the deserted Chinesebarracks. An instant later his son followed him, and then came Tom withthe Kanakas and Mr. Chillingworth who helped him in dragging Hunt's limpform for the mate had collapsed as the professor seized the boy from hisarms.

  As they all got safely inside Tom slammed the big door to, securing itwith a heavy bar which, to his great delight, he had found on theinside. This gave them breathing space and a chance to lay Hunt, whoseemed to be badly wounded, on a pile of bedding in one corner of theplace. The man lay there panting for a few minutes, and then opened hiseyes.

  "What has happened?" he demanded, and then he gasped out, "Oh, I knownow. You caught me and dragged me in here. It was pluckily done of you,lad. But we are in a bad fix."

  "You think the mutineers will attack us, then?" asked Tom.

  "Not a doubt of it. I don't know how you come to be here, and thereain't no time to ask questions, but I'll tell you what happened soonafter you left with Lake. A bunch of them fellers came to ther store andsaid they had decided that the time had come to make a generaldistribution of all the grub and then set sail on the schooner.

  "Of course, I told 'em to go about their business, but they said thatthey was a committee, and that if I didn't let 'em ransack the provisionhouse there'd be trouble. It seems they thought that Lake was lying tothem about there being little grub left, and that they had an idea therewas plenty. Well, to make a long story short, when I refused to let 'emhave the keys they went away grumbling. Nothing happened till sundown,when I shot down one chap I saw sneaking up to the back door of theplace.

  "That was the signal for the trouble that had been smoldering. Theycharged down on the place like a lot of angry wasps, and I grabbed upthe kid and ran. I saw it was no use to make a fight. I hid in a disusedhut till just now, when they routed me out. Through a crack I watched'em loot the storehouse. All the time they was sayin' what they'd do tome when they catched me. Pretty soon they found kegs of rum in thecellar, and then I knew it was about all over but the shouting.

  "One feller suggests that they set the storehouse on fire when they'dgot everything out of it, and presently I seen them touch a match to apile of tinder and start the blaze up.

  "I watched for a while and then figgered that if ever there was a chanceof my escaping with the kid it was right then. So I crept out of the hutwhere I'd lain hidden. But as ill-luck would have it, just at thatinstant a bunch of them ran upon me. I started off in this direction,expecting every minute to feel a bullet in my back. The rest you know."

  All this time there had come no sign from the mutineers. Outside thingshad, in fact, grown quite quiet. Ominously so. It meant, according toTom's way of thinking, that they were hatching up some plan of attack onthe big shed, and--not one of its occupants had any more dangerousweapon than a pocket knife.

  Suddenly a voice outside hailed them:

  "Ahoy thar! in ther shed!"

  "Well, what is it?" shouted back Tom.

  "Will you give us up Zeb Hunt?"

  "What do you want to do with him?" asked Tom, while Hunt watched himwith an agonized look on his rough features.

  "String him up!" came the savage rejoinder. "Send him out here and youshall all get off without any bother frum us. But ef yer keep him tharwe'll make you sorry fer it."

  "You hear what he says," said Tom, facing round on the others, "whatshall we do?"

  "We would be a fine lot of cowards to give this man up to them after hehas saved my boy at the risk of his life," said the professor.

  "That's what I say," chimed in Mr. Chillingworth.

  "So do I," agreed Tom, while Hunt sank back with a breathed "God blessyou!" It was the most fervent wish that had ever left those lips.

  "Wall, what be you a-goin' ter do?" came the voice. "The boys is gittin'impatient."

  "You can't have Hunt!" hailed back Tom in decisive tones.

  "What!" roared the fellow outside, "think of what you're a-doin' of,youngster. It's his life or yours--now kin we hev him?"

  "Not in the longest day you ever lived!" shouted Tom, "now be off and doyour worst."

  "No fear of that, younker," the voice
assured him; "look out fersqualls!"

  "If only we had some weapons," exclaimed Tom. He stepped over to Hunt,thinking that perhaps the man had a pistol on him. But Hunt, whenaddressed, did not answer, and Tom soon made out that he had swoonedagain. Striking a match Tom bent over him. The man's shirt wasblood-stained, and he had, apparently, been wounded in the shoulder.

  "He's got grit, anyhow," thought Tom. "He never said a word about hiswound."

  Tom would have liked to doctor him there and then, but that was out ofthe question. Before the hastily struck match had died out there was awild yell from outside as the mutineers rushed upon the place. But ifthey expected the stout doors to yield they were mistaken. The portalsshook and swayed under the onslaught, but they held firm.

  After battering furiously upon them with blood-curdling threats as towhat would happen when they did get them open, the mutineers gave overtheir fruitless task. Apparently they retired to talk over some otherplan of attack.

  This looked ominous. Enraged as they were by their failure to carry theplace at the first assault, it was not likely they would risk a secondfailure.

  "I hope they don't think of making a battering ram," thought Tom,"they'd have those doors down in a jiffy if they did."

  For some minutes thereafter they sat in silence, listening intently forsome sound which might inform them of what the mutineers intended to donext. In the meantime, the half-famished refugees munched on some riceand bread they had found spread out upon a rough table just as theChinamen had left it, apparently.

  All at once Tom heard a queer sound--a sort of scratching, scrapingnoise at one end of the barn. It sounded as if something were beingpiled against it.

  What could the mutineers be doing? Tom racked his brain in vain for asolution of the queer sounds for some minutes. Then he hit upon anexplanation. It was such a horrifying one that every drop of bloodseemed to leave his heart at the bare idea.

  It was brush that was being piled against the barn from the outside.Such a thing could have only one meaning. The mutineers meant to set theplace on fire.

  Rapidly he communicated his fears to the others. But before they hadtime to formulate any way of facing this new peril there was the quick,sharp scratch of a match outside.

  At the same instant a red glow shone through the chinks of the boards.As the flames rose higher, licking the sides of the barn, the mutineersbroke into brutal cries and taunts.

  "You cowards!" shouted Tom desperately; "do you mean to burn us alive?"

  "Yes; you can all shrivel up like a bunch of rats or else come out andbe shot!"

  This utterance from one of the wretches outside was greeted by a chorusof approving shouts and yells. Tom turned despairingly to the others. Ashe did so the barn began to fill with smoke and hot sparks showeredthem. It was evident that they must soon adopt one of the alternativeshurled at them by the brutal mutineers.

  CHAPTER XXIV.

  THE ROUND-UP.--CONCLUSION.

  As the hot breath of the flames grew more ardent, Hunt began to stiruneasily upon his couch. Suddenly the wounded man came out of his swoonwith a shout. He sat upright, staring wildly about him, hisblood-stained, wan face illumined by the flames. But after his firstinstant of confusion he perceived at once what had happened.

  "The dogs!" he exclaimed, reeling to his feet, "they've set the shed onfire. But we'll outwit them yet."

  Tom was at his side in an instant.

  "You know a way by which we can get out of here?" he exclaimed.

  Hunt nodded.

  "It's a good thing I come to when I did," he said, "or we all might haveroasted in here."

  He shuffled rapidly to the other end of the shed, and kneeling above abig, flat stone which apparently served as a hearthstone for an opengrate, he pressed some sort of mechanism. Instantly, before theirastonished eyes, the stone swung open, revealing a flight of steps.

  "A secret passage!" cried Tom, while the others uttered exclamations ofastonishment.

  "That's right," said Zeb, with a grin, "and the best of it is that thereare only two persons on this island that knows of its existence. One'sme, and tother's Bully Banjo. We made it in case a revenue should dropin here some day. Then, d'ye see, all we would have had to do would havebeen to herd the Chinks through it and bring 'em out in the brush half amile away. But we never thought that we'd have to use it to get awayfrom our own men.

  "By the way," he said, gazing about stupidly under the pain of hiswound, "where is Sim Lake?"

  "I'll tell you about that later," said Tom, "the thing to do now is toget away. You go first, you know the way."

  Led by the wounded man they plunged into the dark abyss, the professor'sboy whining a little at the idea of descending into the dark, dampplace. Tom came last, and he closed down the big stone behind them.

  The passage was fairly commodious, and walking single file and slightlystooped it was not long before they reached the end of it and emerged ina clearing in the brush.

  Looking around they could see behind them the red glare of the fire andthe figures of the mutineers about it.

  "They little think what a march we've stolen on them," chuckled Tom ashe gazed.

  "I suppose the cold-blooded rascals are waiting for us to appear, or tosee the shed cave in on us," added the professor.

  "Well, they will be disappointed this trip," said Mr. Chillingworth,"but surely I am not mistaken. By some strange chance that passage hasled us almost to the other side of the headland where we left the boat."

  A few seconds of reconnoitering proved that this was correct. They were,however, on the hillside above the headland, so that they could see downon the blazing building. It was not a great way to the water, and theysoon emerged at the spot where they had left the boat. They foundeverything as it had been when they came away.

  "Well," said Tom, "I guess we had better get on board."

  "What is your plan?" asked the professor.

  "Rather a desperate one," rejoined Tom; "but it is the only thing I canthink of. We can't put to sea without provisions or water, that'scertain. Now, on the schooner we can find both. She is unguarded, andthe only risk we run is being seen from the shore."

  "By Jove! that's a great idea," cried Mr. Chillingworth. "As for beingseen from land, I don't think there is any serious danger of that. Thoserascals are all too busy about their own devices."

  "I agree with you," said the professor. "It might even be feasible tosail the schooner out."

  Tom shook his head at this daring suggestion.

  "We don't know the water hereabouts well enough," he said, "and mightonly pile her upon shore. No; my idea was to stock up the boat and thenpull out to sea. We ought to be out of sight of the island by daylight.Surely we can either sight a steamer or the mainland by the time ourprovisions get low."

  With the Kanakas at the oars, and the wounded man lying in the stern,the boat was cautiously pulled toward the schooner. Tom's plans wentthrough without a hitch. The men filled six water kegs and selected allthe biscuit and provisions they wished, Zeb Hunt helping them withsuggestions as to the best stores to take. During this time Tom found achance to tell him of the fate of Simon Lake. Hunt sank down on a coilof rope, his head in his hands, as he heard. He was genuinely affected,for he had been fond of his leader in his rough way.

  "Poor Bully Banjo," he said at length, rising to his feet. "It's the wayhe'd have wished to die. But it's sickened me of this business. If everI get clear of here I'm goin' ter live honest and clean. I've tried theother way, and it don't pay. For every bad deed a man does he has to payin just so many days of unhappiness--that's been my experience."

  "I believe you are right," said Tom, "badness never pays. It's only menand boys who live right who are happy."

  Presently a soft hail from the professor apprised them that the boat wasready.

  One by one they slipped down the Jacob's ladder, which was alwayshanging from the schooner's side when she was at anchor.
Before manyminutes had passed the boat, with her anxious passengers, had clearedthe point and was being headed around the further point of the islandtoward the east. They knew that by keeping on in that direction longenough they would strike land. As they had provisions and water enoughfor several days on board they felt no anxiety on that score, and theirhearts were light as they rowed through the darkness.

  Before long the professor and Mr. Chillingworth dropped off to sleep.Tom and Zeb Hunt sat alone in the stern talking in low voices, while thetwo Kanakas rowed steadily as automatons.

  All at once Tom gave a shout.

  "Look! Look! A steamer's lights!"

  "Whereaway, boy?" came Zeb Hunt's fog-horn voice.

  "Off to the south--look, she's coming toward us!"

  "You're right, boy," growled Hunt. If it had been light Tom would haveseen that a curiously anxious look crept over his companion's face. Thecoming of a steamer meant to Zeb Hunt that he would be placed in ironsand taken back to the United States to work out the penalty for hiscrimes. But he said nothing, and presently the entire boatload waswatching the oncoming steamer.

  As she drew closer Tom made out that she was a small white vessel like ayacht. Her lights glowed brightly, both from her portholes and on deck.Evidently her company was up and about. Perhaps they had sighted thefire on the island, which was casting a blood-red glare on sea and sky.

  "Ship ahoy!" hailed Tom suddenly as the vessel drew closer.

  "Ahoy yourself!" came an amazed voice from the foredeck of the vessel,"who the dickens are you?"

  "A crew of castaways!" rejoined Tom. "Throw us a line, will you?"

  But now another voice struck in from the strange vessel's deck:

  "Tom! Oh, Tom!"

  "Jack!" cried the amazed lad, recognizing his brother's voice.

  "Hooray, we've found them!" came another voice, that of Sam Hartley."Hooray, my lads! Three cheers!"

  They were given with a will while the small boat was rowed alongside thelarger vessel. A gangway was lowered and a perfect bombardment ofquestions began to rain down. It was impossible to answer them all, butin the babel the rancher recognized the voice of his wife.

  Well, there is no use trying to give the details of the scene thatensued when the castaways were all safely on the deck of the big steamyacht--for such she was--and the small boat was towing astern.

  In the first place everybody talked at once, and Mrs. Chillingworthlaughed and then cried, and then cried and laughed again. It was themost joyous reunion the high seas had ever witnessed. And through it allonly one figure stood apart--that of Zeb Hunt. Presently he slipped awayand made his way to the stern, where the boat with her provisions andwater on board was towing along.

  Taking a swift glance around Zeb, despite his wound, hoisted himselfover the stern rail, and with the agility of a sailor, dropped into thesmall craft. Then he drew his knife and slashed the rope. Free of theyacht the boat dropped rapidly astern in the darkness. As the largevessel's lights grew dimmer and died out, Hunt took up the oars.

  "It ain't so very far frum here to the Canady shore," he muttered; "andonce there I'll be safe frum the law."

  He gave a shudder.

  "I guess what that kid said was right," he muttered, "it don't pay terbe bad, an' frum now on Zeb Hunt's goin' ter turn over a new leaf."

  * * * * *

  In the meantime, in the lighted saloon of the yacht, the castaways hadtold their story, and then Mr. Dacre and Sam Hartley started in ontheirs, part of which we know. On a lounge sat Jack and Tom, their armsentwined round each other's necks, while Mr. Chillingworth and his wifesat happily side by side listening to the excited hum of talk. At somedistance from the rest sat the bottle-nosed man; still he was a sharerin the general jubilation, too, for it was he who had piloted the yachtto the island.

  But we are running ahead of Sam Hartley's narrative a little. Ourreaders will recall what Mr. Chillingworth and Tom did not, of course,know, namely, the Secret Service man's visit to the captain of the"Islander." From the description of the schooner the bottle-nosed manrecognized Bully Banjo's craft, while Sam Hartley easily identified Tomfrom the description the captain was able to give of the boy who hadsprung into the shrouds and hailed them.

  This done, the next thing to do was to get hold of Mr. Dacre andtelegraph to Washington about the results that had been attained. Adozen assistants had been rushed to Sam at once, and a week later thetrim yacht "Idle Hour," under the flag of the U. S. Treasury Department,had set sail from Puget Sound for a mysterious destination.

  They had sighted the fire a few hours before they picked up the boat andit had caused them a lot of apprehension. It looked as if things hadcome to a crisis too soon. But as it happened, things could not havefallen out better for Sam Hartley's purposes.

  They anchored that night off the island, while all hands took amuch-needed rest, and in the morning they landed. The followers of BullyBanjo, stupefied by drink and reckless rioting, were an easy prey forthe Secret Service men, who soon had them transferred to the schooner.It had been decided to tow the vessel into the nearest port, using heras a prison ship in the meantime.

  The Chinamen who had fled in terror to the brush when the rioting brokeout, drifted back one by one. They were rounded up and the situationexplained to them. As it was impossible to take them on the schoonerthey were left on the island with plenty of provisions from the yachttill a Canadian government schooner could call for them and deport themto China.

  A few days after these arrangements had been completed, the "Idle Hour"sailed for Seattle with the schooner in tow. In the meantime, the minehad been visited once more--by way of the cove--and several samples ofore taken from it, which the professor decided to assay when theyreached port. He thinks, however, that they will prove to be very rich,and already negotiations are under way to acquire the mine. When theBungalow Boys and Professor Dingle do secure a right to work it theKanakas will have a goodly share of the proceeds, and Mr. Chillingworthwill not be forgotten.

  Once more in Seattle Mr. Chillingworth was anxious for the party toreturn to his ranch, but the boys and Mr. Dacre both felt that they hadseen about all they wanted of that part of the country. They thereforeaccepted the professor's invitation to visit him later at his home onthe Great Lakes. First, however, they gave their evidence against thecaptured mutineers, all of whom were given sentences of more or lessseverity, including the treacherous Fu.

  We could tell many things about the pleasant times the boys spent in thegreat metropolis of the northwest, and of some of the wonders they sawin that part of the wonderful Pacific Slope. But it is now time to leavethem for a brief space.

  We shall meet them again in a new tale of their adventures, even moreexciting and thrilling than its forerunners. This volume will be called"The Bungalow Boys on the Great Lakes."

  THE END.

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  The Boy Inventors' Wireless Triumph book cover]

  THE BOY INVENTORS' WIRELESS TELEGRAPH.

  Blest with natural curiosity,--sometimes called the instinct ofinvestigation,--favored with golden opportunity, and gifted withcreative ability, the Boy Inventors meet emergencies and contrivemechanical wonders that interest and convince the reader because theyalways "work" w
hen put to the test.

  THE BOY INVENTORS' VANISHING GUN.

  A thought, a belief, an experiment; discouragement, hope, effort andfinal success--this is the history of many an invention; a history inwhich excitement, competition, danger, despair and persistence figure.This merely suggests the circumstances which draw the daring BoyInventors into strange experiences and startling adventures, and whichdemonstrate the practical use of their vanishing gun.

  THE BOY INVENTORS' DIVING TORPEDO BOAT.

  As in the previous stories of the Boy Inventors, new and interestingtriumphs of mechanism are produced which become immediately valuable,and the stage for their proving and testing is again the water. On thesurface and below it, the boys have jolly, contagious fun, and the storyof their serious, purposeful inventions challenge the reader's deepestattention.

  Any volume sent postpaid upon receipt of price. HURST & COMPANY -- Publishers -- NEW YORK

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  BORDER BOYS SERIES Mexican and Canadian Frontier Series

  By FREMONT B. DEERING.

  Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 50c. per vol., postpaid

  The Border Boys on the Trail book cover]

  THE BORDER BOYS ON THE TRAIL.

  What it meant to make an enemy of Black Ramon De Barios--that is theproblem that Jack Merrill and his friends, including Coyote Pete, facein this exciting tale.

  THE BORDER BOYS ACROSS THE FRONTIER.

  Read of the Haunted Mesa and its mysteries, of the Subterranean Riverand its strange uses, of the value of gasolene and steam "in running thegauntlet," and you will feel that not even the ancient splendors of theOld World can furnish a better setting for romantic action than theBorder of the New.

  THE BORDER BOYS WITH THE MEXICAN RANGERS.

  As every day is making history--faster, it is said, than ever before--sobooks that keep pace with the changes are full of rapid action andaccurate facts. This book deals with lively times on the Mexican border.

  THE BORDER BOYS WITH THE TEXAS RANGERS.

  The Border Boys have already had much excitement and adventure in theirlives, but all this has served to prepare them for the experiencesrelated in this volume. They are stronger, braver and more resourcefulthan ever, and the exigencies of their life in connection with the TexasRangers demand all their trained ability.

  Any volume sent postpaid upon receipt of price. HURST & COMPANY -- Publishers -- NEW YORK

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  MOLLY BROWN SERIES College Life Stories for Girls By NELL SPEED.

  Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 60c. per vol., postpaid

  Molly Brown's Freshman Days book cover]

  MOLLY BROWN'S FRESHMAN DAYS.

  Would you like to admit to your circle of friends the most charming ofcollege girls--the typical college girl for whom we are always lookingbut not always finding; the type that contains so many delightfulcharacteristics, yet without unpleasant perfection in any; the natural,unaffected, sweet-tempered girl, loved because she is lovable? Then seekan introduction to Molly Brown. You will find the baggage-master, thecook, the Professor of English Literature, and the College President inthe same company.

  MOLLY BROWN'S SOPHOMORE DAYS.

  What is more delightful than a re-union of college girls after thesummer vacation? Certainly nothing that precedes it in theirexperience--at least, if all class-mates are as happy together as theWellington girls of this story. Among Molly's interesting friends of thesecond year is a young Japanese girl, who ingratiates her "humbly" selfinto everybody's affections speedily and permanently.

  MOLLY BROWN'S JUNIOR DAYS.

  Financial stumbling blocks are not the only things that hinder the easeand increase the strength of college girls. Their troubles and theirtriumphs are their own, often peculiar to their environment. HowWellington students meet the experiences outside the class-rooms isworth the doing, the telling and the reading.

  Any volume sent postpaid upon receipt of price. HURST & COMPANY -- Publishers -- NEW YORK

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------

  MOTOR CYCLE SERIES Splendid Motor Cycle Stories

  By LIEUT. HOWARD PAYSON. Author of "Boy Scout Series."

  Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 50c. per vol., postpaid

  The Motor Cycle Chums Around the World book cover]

  THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS AROUND THE WORLD.

  Could Jules Verne have dreamed of encircling the globe with a motorcycle for emergencies he would have deemed it an achievement greaterthan any he describes in his account of the amusing travels of PhileasFogg. This, however, is the purpose successfully carried out by theMotor Cycle Chums, and the tale of their mishaps, hindrances and delaysis one of intense interest, secret amusement, and incidental informationto the reader.

  THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS OF THE NORTHWEST PATROL.

  The Great Northwest is a section of vast possibilities and in it theMotor Cycle Chums meet adventures even more unusual and exciting thanmany of their experiences on their tour around the world. There is not adull page in this lively narrative of clever boys and their attendant"Chinee."

  THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS IN THE GOLD FIELDS.

  The gold fever which ran its rapid course through the veins of thehistoric "forty-niners" recurs at certain intervals, and seizes itsvictims with almost irresistible power. The search for gold is sofascinating to the seekers that hardship, danger and failure areobstacles that scarcely dampen their ardour. How the Motor Cycle Chumswere caught by the lure of the gold and into what difficulties and novelexperiences they were led, makes a tale of thrilling interest.

  Any volume sent postpaid upon receipt of price. HURST & COMPANY -- Publishers -- NEW YORK

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------

  MOTOR MAIDS SERIES Wholesome Stories of Adventure By KATHERINE STOKES.

  Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 50c. per vol., postpaid

  Motor Maids' School Days book cover]

  THE MOTOR MAIDS' SCHOOL DAYS.

  Billie Campbell was just the type of a straightforward, athletic girl tobe successful as a practical Motor Maid. She took her car, as she didher class-mates, to her heart, and many a grand good time did they haveall together. The road over which she ran her red machine had many anunexpected turning,--now it led her into peculiar danger; now intocontact with strange travelers; and again into experiences by fire andwater. But, best of all, "The Comet" never failed its brave girl owner.

  THE MOTOR MAIDS BY PALM AND PINE.

  Wherever the Motor Maids went there were lively times, for these werecompanionable girls who looked upon the world as a vastly interestingplace full of unique adventures--and so, of course, they found them.

  THE MOTOR MAIDS ACROSS THE CONTINENT.

  It is always interesting to travel, and it is wonderfully entertainingto see old scenes through fresh eyes. It is that privilege, therefore,that makes it worth while to join the Motor Maids in their first'cross-country run.

  THE MOTOR MAIDS BY ROSE, SHAMROCK AND HEATHER.

  South and West had the Motor Maids motored, nor could their education bytravel have been more wisely begun. But now a speaking acquaintance withtheir own country enriched their anticipation of an introduction to theBritish Isles. How they made their polite American bow and how they werereceived on the other side is a tale of interest and inspiration.

  Any volume sent postpaid upon receipt of price. HURST & COMPANY -- Publishers -- NE
W YORK

 
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