CHAPTER XXVII

220CHAPTER XXVIITHE SIGNED CONTRACT

“If old Pharaoh could only see us now!” chortled Jim, as the teams lined up for their first game.

“He’d probably throw a fit,” grinned Denton.

“Not a bit of it,” said Joe. “He’d probably be up in the grandstand, eating peanuts and singing out once in a while to ‘kill the umpire.’”

“And he’d do it too,” laughed Jim. “I’ll bet an umpire in those days would have had a hard job to get life insurance. It would have been good dope to get a tip before the game as to just what team Pharaoh wanted to win.”

“I think you men are awfully irreverent,” reproved Mabel, who, with Clara, was seated in the first row in the stand right behind the players’ bench and had overheard the conversation.

“Not at all,” laughed Jim. “It’s a big compliment to Pharaoh to suggest that he would have been a baseball fan if he hadn’t been born too soon. It puts him on a level with the President of the United States.”221

The teams were playing on the cricket field used by the English residents, and not far off the Pyramids reared their stately heads toward the sky. It was a strange conjunction of the past and the present, and all were more or less impressed by it.

“Well, I must confess that in my wildest dreams of seasons gone by, I never supposed that I would be pitching here in Egypt in the shadow of the pyramids,” remarked Joe.

“It certainly takes a fellow back to ancient days,” put in Jim. “Just imagine playing before a crowd of those old Egyptians!”

“Well, they had fun in their day just as well as we have,” said McRae. “Just the same, they didn’t know how good baseball is.”

“They didn’t even know anything about yelling to kill the umpire when a wrong decision was given,” remarked Joe, with a grin, and at this there was a general laugh.

There was a big outpouring of Europeans and visiting Americans, and under the inspiration of their interest and applause both teams played brilliantly. It was a hammer-and-tongs contest from start to finish, and resulted in the first tie of the trip, neither team being able to score, although the game went to eleven innings.

“Still two ahead,” McRae said to Brennan, as they left the grounds after the game.222

“We’re gunning for you,” retorted Brennan good-naturedly, “and we’ll get you yet. You’ve had all the breaks so far, but our turn has got to come.”

“Tell that to the King of Denmark,” laughed McRae. “We’ve got your number, old man.”

The party “did” Egypt thoroughly, visiting Cairo, Thebes and Memphis, climbing the Pyramids, sailing on the Nile, viewing the temples of Karnak and Philae, the statue of Memnon, and countless other places of interest in this cradle of the world’s civilization. And it was a tired but happy crowd that finally assembled at Alexandria to take ship for Naples, their first stopping place on the continent of Europe.

Braxton was no longer with the party, having left it at Ceylon, and others had dropped away here and there. But in the main the members were the same as at the beginning. Their health had been excellent, and only a few things had occurred to mar the pleasure of the trip.

The discomfort that Joe had felt had largely worn away with the passing of time. Every day was bringing him nearer the time when with the opening of the season he would actually appear on the diamond wearing a Giant uniform, and thus effectually dispose of the slander that had troubled him.

There had just been time enough to receive223some of the earliest papers from America that had been published after the receipt of his denial. That denial had evidently produced a great effect, coupled as it was with the offer to give a thousand dollars to charity if the new league could produce any contract signed by him. “Money talks,” and the paper intimated that the All-Star League had the next move and that it would be “in bad” with the public if it failed to make its statements good.

“They’ll have a hot time doing it,” grinned Joe.

“I’m wondering how they’ll dodge it,” remarked Jim.

“By getting out a new lie to bolster up the old one probably,” conjectured Joe.

The latest papers from America had come on board just as the steamer left Alexandria, and in the hurry of getting aboard and settling down in their new quarters it was after supper that night before Joe hurried to the smoking room to have a look at them.

“Got a thousand dollars handy, Joe?” inquired Denton, as Joe came near him.

“Because, if you have, the All-Star League wants it,” added Larry.

“What do you mean?” asked Joe, all the old discomfort and apprehension coming back to him.224

“Read this,” replied Larry, handing him a paper opened at the sporting page.

Joe read:

“All-Star League Calls Matson’s Bluff. Produces Signed Contract. Facsimile of Contract Shown Below.”

And staring right out at him was the photographic reproduction of a regulation baseball contract and at the bottom was written the name: “Joseph Matson.”

Joe stared at it as though he were in a dream. Here was the old blow at his reputation, this time with redoubled force. Here was what claimed to be the actual contract. But it was not the body of the contract that held his attention. The thing that made him rage, that gave him a sense of furious helplessness, that put his brain in a whirl, was this:

He knew that that was his signature!

No matter how it came there, it was his. A man’s name can seldom be so skilfully forged that it can deceive the man himself. It may get by the cashier of the bank, but when it is referred back to the man who is supposed to have written it, that man knows instinctively whether he ever wrote it. Perhaps he cannot tell why he knows it, but he knows it just the same.225

So Joeknewthat it was his signature that was photographed on that contract. But he also knew another thing just as certainly.

He had never signed that contract!

Both things contradictory. Yet both things true.

Larry and Denton were watching him closely. Joe looked up and met their eyes. They were two of his oldest and warmest friends on the Giant team and had always been ready to back him through thick and thin. Confidence still was in their gaze, but with it was mixed bewilderment almost equal to Joe’s own.

Before anything further could be said, McRae and Robbie joined the group.

“Well, Joe, there’s the contract,” said McRae.

“It seems to be a contract all right,” replied Joe. “I haven’t had time to read what it says, but that doesn’t matter anyway. The only important thing is that I never signed that contract.”

“That seems to be a pretty good imitation of your signature at the bottom there,” chimed in Robbie.

“It’s even better than that,” said Joe, taking the bull by the horns. “It isn’t even an imitation. It’s my own signature.”

Both Robbie and McRae looked at him as if they thought he was crazy.226

“I don’t get you, Matson,” said McRae, a little sternly. “And it seems to me it’s hardly a time for joking. There’s the contract. You say you didn’t sign it, and yet you admit that the name at the bottom is your own signature. How do you explain it?”

“I don’t pretend to explain it,” replied Joe. “There’s crooked work somewhere that I’ve got to ferret out. Somehow or other my name, written by me, has gotten on the bottom of that contract. But I never put it there. Some rascal has, and when I find him, as I will, may Heaven have mercy on him, for I won’t!”

227CHAPTER XXVIIIWHIRLWIND PITCHING

“A fellow who would do a thing like that is taking long chances,” said McRae doubtfully.

“And how could he do it?” put in Robbie. “The name would have to be cut from one piece of paper and pasted on another, wouldn’t it?”

“Even admitting that they might get your name from a check or letter, I don’t see how a thing like that could stand inspection for a minute,” chimed in Willis. “Even if it were so well done that an eye couldn’t detect it, a microscope would give it away.”

“And you can bet that the reporters who hunted up this thing haven’t overlooked any bets,” said Brennan. “They knew that the signature was the nub of the whole thing and if there was anything phony about the paper they’d have got next at once.”

“It’s a horrible mixup!” cried Joe, who felt that he was being enmeshed in a net of circumstantial228evidence which he might find it impossible to break. “Let me read the story first from end to end. Then, perhaps, I’ll find some clue that will solve the mystery.”

He plunged at once into the reading, but the more he read the worse the matter looked.

He found that a nation-wide interest had been excited by his denial and his challenge. The officers of the All-Star League had been besieged by reporters, who had made it clear to them that they must prove their statement that Matson had signed with them or else stand convicted before the American public, on whose favor they depended for support in the coming season, of being slanderers and liars.

Mr. Beckworth Fleming, the president of the All-Star League, had shown a little hesitation in responding to these demands. This, perhaps, was natural enough, since no business organization cares to have the terms of its contracts blazoned forth to the world, perhaps to the benefit of its rivals. Still, under all the circumstances, Mr. Fleming had finally decided to permit a photographic copy to be made of the contract in order to establish the good faith of the new league. This had been done and facsimiles had been sent to all the leading newspapers of the United States.

There was no question that the contract was229genuine. It had been submitted to bank cashiers who were familiar with Mr. Matson’s writing, and they had pronounced it his signature beyond the shadow of a doubt. The paper had been examined under powerful glasses and found to be a single piece. Everything was in proper form, and it was clearly up to Mr. Matson to explain what seemed to be explainable only in one way, namely, that he had signed the contract.

There were many worthy charities that could find a good use for the thousand dollars that the great pitcher had so rashly offered.

This was the gist of the story in all the papers. There were various suggested explanations. One paper hinted that men had been known to sign papers when they had dined and wined too well.

Another thought that the denial was purely a “diplomatic” one. Others ventured the hypothesis that the whole thing was an advertising dodge, designed to set the country agog with excitement and stimulate big audiences for the coming season.

But underneath all the suppositions one thing seemed to be unquestioned by the papers, and that was that Joe had signed a contract to play with the All-Star League and had left the Giants in the lurch.

Joe felt as though the ground were slipping from beneath his feet. He was perfectly230innocent, and yet he already stood convicted in the public mind of having done a thing that he loathed and abhorred. And the worst of it was that he had not the slightest clue to the scoundrel or scoundrels who had brought this thing about.

“It’s beyond me, Mac,” he said at last in despair, as he looked up and saw the Giants’ manager’s eyes fixed upon him as though they would read into his soul. “They seem to have a strangle hold on me. And yet as black as things look I tell you straight, Mac, that you know every bit as much about this as I do.”

“That’s all right, Joe,” returned McRae. “I’ll admit I’m flabbergasted. Who wouldn’t be? There’s a plot here somewhere, and the fox that planned it has been mighty cunning in covering up his tracks. But there never yet was a lie that didn’t have a weak point somewhere, and soon or late we’ll find it.”

Mabel and Clara, as well as Jim, were beside themselves with anger at the dastardly trick. They racked their brains to find the explanation, but every time they came up against a blank wall.

“I certainly can’t understand it, Joe,” said Mabel, for at least the tenth time.

“Well, I can’t understand it myself, Mabel,” he replied.

“Are you sure you didn’t sign that contract, thinking it was something else—an order for231something, or something like that?” questioned Clara.

“I’m not in the habit of signing anything without knowing what it is,” said the crack pitcher. “If any of those fellows had brought such a thing to me to sign, I would have handed it back and given the fellow a piece of my mind. No, there is something else in all this, though what it is I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“It’s too bad we’re so far away from those fellows just at present,” put in Jim. “If we were close by we might interview them, and find out some of the details that are as yet missing. And then maybe somebody would get a broken head,” he added vigorously.

“Oh, Jim! would you break anybody’s head?” burst out Clara in horror.

“I sure would if he was trying to put Joe in such a hole as this!” returned the young man promptly. “Maybe you don’t understand what a black eye this is calculated to give your brother.”

“Oh, yes, I can understand that well enough,” sighed Joe’s sister.

“I think it’s the meanest thing that ever could possibly happen!” burst out Mabel. “And I don’t wonder that Jim is angry enough to break somebody’s head for it,” and she looked lovingly at Joe.

“Oh, I suppose it will come out all right in the232end,” answered Joe. But he said this merely to ease Mabel’s mind. Secretly he was afraid that he was in for some real trouble.

It was early spring when they landed in Naples, but the winter had been prolonged more than usual and it was too cold to play. At Monte Carlo and Nice, however, they were able to get in two games, both of which were won by the All-Americans. This put the teams again on an equality as to games won and lost, and revived the hopes of the All-Americans that they might still come out ahead in the series.

They made but a short stay in Paris, and the weather was so inclement that games were out of the question. But it would have taken more than bad weather to prevent the shopping and sightseeing that all had been looking forward eagerly to in the great French capital, and they enjoyed their visit to the full.

In London they met with the greatest welcome of their trip. They played at Lord’s Oval, the most famous grounds in the United Kingdom, and before an audience that included the most distinguished people in the realm, including the king himself.

The American colony, too, was there almost to a man, and the United States ambassador lent his presence to the occasion.

It was the most distinguished audience,233probably, that had ever witnessed a baseball game.

And here it was that Joe did the most brilliant pitching of the trip. His tireless arm mowed down his opponents inning after inning. They came to the bat only to go back to the bench. His mastery of the ball seemed almost uncanny, and as inning after inning passed without a hit being made, it began to look as though he were in for that dream of all pitchers—a no-hit game.

Brennan, the Chicago manager, fidgeted restlessly on the bench and glowered as his pets were slaughtered. He tried all the tactics known to clever managers, but in vain. It was simply a day when Baseball Joe was not to be denied.

His comrades, too, gave him brilliant support and nothing got away from them, so that when finally the last man up in the ninth inning in the All-American team lifted a towering skyscraper that Joe caught without stirring from his tracks, a pandemonium of cheers forced him to remove his cap and bow to the applauding crowds again and again.

Not a man had scored, not a man had been passed, not a man had reached first, not a man had hit safe. Joe had won the most notable game in his whole career!

234CHAPTER XXIXTHE RUINED CASTLE

With London as their center the teams made flying trips to Edinburg, Glasgow and Dublin. In all three places they received a royal welcome, for the fame of that great game in London had spread throughout the nation and all were eager to see the hero of that occasion.

Under other circumstances Joe would have been jubilant, for he was at the very height of his reputation, the girl he loved was with him, as well as his only sister and his closest friend, but ever in his thoughts like the spectre at the feast was that matter of the signed contract—the abominable thing that smirched his reputation and branded him to the world as false to his word and bond.

Again and again he sought to find the key to the mystery. It seemed like some monstrous jugglery, something akin to the fakir’s tricks that he had witnessed at Colombo where the impossible had seemed so clearly possible.235

Try as he would he could find no explanation of the puzzle and his friends were equally powerless to suggest a solution.

The game at Dublin, which commenced auspiciously for the Giants, was turned into a rout by a rally of the All-Americans in the ninth. A rain of bingles came from their bats and they won easily with six runs to spare.

“Got it in the neck that time, old man,” said Joe to Jim, after the game. “But we can’t always win. What do you say to getting a buzz wagon and taking a little spin out into the country? The girls will be getting ready for that reception at the Viceroy’s castle, and they’ll be too busy dolling up to care what becomes of us.”

“Good idea,” said Jim, and the two friends made their way to a public garage, secured a good car together with a driver, and whirled away into the open country.

They had made perhaps twenty miles through the beautiful Irish scenery when Joe called Jim’s attention to a cloud bank forming in the west.

“Better skip back, old man,” he said. “We’re due for a wetting if we don’t.”

“Plenty of time yet,” objected Jim. “Those look to me just like wind clouds. Let’s see a little bit more of Ireland.”

They went on perhaps five miles further and then Jim found that his confidence was misplaced.236The clouds grew blacker, an ominous muttering was heard in the sky and a jagged flash of lightning presaged the coming storm.

“You see I was right,” said Joe. “In this open car we’ll be drenched to the skin. Turn around, Mike,” he said to the driver, “and let’s see how fast this old boat of yours can travel in getting back to Dublin. Throw her into high and give her all you’ve got.”

The driver obeyed and the car fairly purred as it sped back toward the city. But fast as it was, the storm was faster. Great raindrops pattered down, and they looked anxiously about for shelter.

“What’s that place up there, Mike?” asked Jim, pointing to a rambling stone structure on an elevation perhaps a hundred yards from the road.

“’Tis the castle o’ the last o’ the O’Brian’s, hivin rist his sowl,” replied Mike. “But they do be sayin’ the place is hanted, an’ ’tis a brave man that would be shteppin’ inside the dhure.”

“I’m a brave man, then,” cried Jim. “For I’ll face a dozen ghosts before I would this storm. Turn in, Mike, and we’ll wait there till the rain is over.”

With a muttered protest Mike did as directed, and a moment later the young men stepped jauntily through the ruined portal, while Mike, shocked237at their temerity, crossed himself and, throwing an oilskin over his head, crouched low in his seat, preferring the discomfort of the open to the unknown terrors that might lurk beyond the doorway of the ruined castle.

The friends had scarcely stepped inside before the rain came down in torrents.

“Lucky we got here just as we did,” remarked Joe, as they leaned up against the masonry of the ruined hall and looked out at the cloudburst.

“It surely was,” agreed Jim. “I wish we had a little more light. It’s as dark as Egypt in here.”

“I’ve got my pocket flashlight with me,” said Joe, reaching toward his hip pocket. “But listen, what’s that?”

“I didn’t hear anything,” returned Jim, a little nervously, it must be admitted.

The two ball players kept perfectly still for a minute and heard what seemed to be the murmur of voices a room or two away.

“Can it be that the last of the O’Brians is rambling about the castle?” whispered Jim, with a feeble attempt at raillery.

“More likely some travelers stormbound like ourselves,” returned Joe practically. “Let’s take a squint at them.”

They tiptoed their way through the hall to a room opening on the right. The door, half238broken from its hinges, was standing open, and in the darkness they saw the tips of two lighted cigars.

As this was not at all ghostly and they did not care to intrude, they were about to retire as softly as they had come, when Joe was startled by hearing his own name. Jim’s hand shot out and clenched his friend’s arm, and they stood there like statues.

“That was a slick trick you put over on Matson,” said a voice which Joe recognized instantly as belonging to Beckworth Fleming. He had heard that voice before when he had made its owner kneel in the dirt of the road and beg Mabel’s pardon for his insolence.

“I think myself it was rather clever,” drawled another familiar voice, that of Braxton. “He fell for it like a lamb.”

“He’s a pretty keen chap usually, too,” remarked Fleming. “How is it you caught him napping?”

“I picked out just the right time,” said Braxton complacently. “And I don’t deny that luck helped me a little. If McRae and Barclay hadn’t gone away just the time they did, it might not have worked. But I got him talking about handwriting, and the first thing you know he’d scribbled his name on the blank sheet. I took good care that only the bottom of the sheet was where he could239reach it. Then I slipped the paper into my pocket, sent it to you to have the contract printed above the signature, and you know the rest.”

“Easy meat,” chuckled Fleming.

“Too easy,” chortled Braxton. “It makes me laugh every time I think of it.”

Joe stepped into the room, followed by Jim.

“I do a little laughing myself sometimes,” Joe said coldly. “And this is one of the times!”

240CHAPTER XXXBROUGHT TO BOOK—CONCLUSION

There was a gasp of dismay and astonishment, as the conspirators jumped to their feet from the windowsill upon which they had been sitting.

At the same instant Joe drew the flashlight from his pocket and illumined their startled faces.

“Don’t move!” he commanded. “Jim, you keep them covered.”

Jim took up his station in the doorway, and in the insufficient light the rascals could not see whether he had a weapon or not.

“What do you mean by this?” blustered Fleming, in a voice that he tried to make brave, but that quavered despite himself.

“It means,” said Joe grimly, “that one of you men is in for the licking of his life. Don’t tremble so, Fleming,” he added contemptuously. “I’ve already thrashed you once and I don’t care to soil my hands with you again. But I’ve been aching for months to get my fingers on the man that made me out a liar and a contract-breaker. I241have him now,” he added, with a steely glance at Braxton.

“Here, Jim,” he continued, stepping back, “take this flash. I’ve got some work to do.”

With a quick wrench he tore off his coat.

“You’d better be careful,” said Braxton—no longer the suave and polished trickster, but pale as chalk and trembling like a leaf. “This is assault and battery, and you’ll answer to the law.”

“Put up your hands,” said Joe curtly. “You’re as big a man as I am, but you’ve got to prove which is the better one. And you, Jim, keep your eye on Fleming and stand by to see fair play.”

Even a rat will fight when cornered and Braxton, seeing no alternative, threw off his coat and made a desperate rush at Joe. Joe met him with a clip to the jaw that shook him from head to foot. Then he sailed in and gave the scoundrel what he had promised—the thrashing of his life.

Braxton tried foul tactics, butted and kicked and tried to gouge and bite, but Joe’s powerful arms worked like windmills, his fists ripping savagely into Braxton’s face and chest. All the pent-up indignation and humiliation of the last few weeks found vent in those mighty blows, and soon, too soon to suit Joe, the man lay on the floor, whining and half-sobbing with shame and pain.242

“Get up, you cur!” said Joe, as he pulled on his coat. “I’m not through with you yet.”

“You’re not going to hit him again, are you?” asked Fleming, while Braxton staggered painfully to his feet.

“No,” said Joe. “I guess he’s had enough.”

“You said it!” cried Jim admiringly. “If ever a man was trimmed to the queen’s taste he’s that man.”

“But I’m going to nail, right now, the lies you fellows have been spreading,” continued Joe, eyes alight with the thought of his coming vindication. “You’ve got to sign a written confession of the part you’ve played in this dirty business.”

“We w-will, w-when we get back to town,” stammered Fleming.

“No, you won’t,” cried Joe. “You’ll do it right here and now.”

“B-but we haven’t any writing materials,” suggested Braxton, through his swollen lips.

“I’ve got paper and a fountain pen!” exclaimed Jim eagerly. “This light is rather dim, but probably Mike has got the automobile lamps going by this time and that’ll be light enough.”

“Come along!” cried Joe sternly, and his crest-fallen opponents knew him too well by this time to resist.

They went out into the open and found that the rain had almost stopped. As Jim had prophesied,243the automobile lamps were gleaming through the dusk. Like every Irishman, Mike dearly loved a scrap, and his eyes lighted with a mixture of eagerness and regret as he looked at Braxton and realized what he had been missing.

“Begorra!” he cried in his rich brogue, “’tis a lovely shindy ye’ve been after havin’.”

With the paper resting on his knee and Jim’s fountain pen in his hand, Joe wrote out the story of the trickery and fraud that had been practiced in getting his signature. When he had covered every important point, he held out the pen to Braxton.

The latter hesitated, and Joe’s fist clenched till the knuckles were white. Braxton knew what that fist was capable of and hesitated no longer. He wrote his name under the confession and Fleming followed suit. Then Jim affixed his name as a witness, and Michael O’Halloran happily added his.

“Now,” said Jim, as he folded the precious paper and stowed it safely in his pocket, “you fellows clear out. I suppose that’s your car that we saw standing a little way down the road. I don’t think either of you will care to mix in my affairs again.”

They moved away with an assumption of bravado they were far from feeling and were lost in the darkness.244

“And now, Mike,” said Joe with a jubilant ring in his voice, as they leaped into the car, “let her go. Drive to Dublin as if the ghost of the last of the O’Brians were at your back!”

And Mike did.

The two baseball players found the girls impatiently awaiting them, and wondering rather petulantly what had become of them. Joe seized Mabel in his arms and whirled her about the room like a dancing dervish, paying no heed to her laughing protests.

Jim would have liked to do the same to Joe’s sister, but did not quite dare to—yet.

“Are you boys crazy?” demanded Mabel, as soon as she could get her breath.

“Yes,” said Joe promptly. “You’ll be, too, when you see this.”

He flourished the paper before their faces and in disjointed sentences, frequently broken by interruptions, told them of all that had happened since they had left them after the game.

No need of telling how they felt when the boys had finished. There was no happier party that night in all Ireland.

Then, leaving the delighted girls for a few minutes, the boys hunted up McRae. They found him glum and anxious, talking earnestly with Robbie in the lobby of the hotel. One glance at the young245men’s faces made the pair jump wonderingly to their feet.

“For the love of Pete, let’s have it, Joe!” cried McRae. “What’s happened?”

“Plenty!” exulted Joe. “We’ve put the All-Star League out of business!”

“What!” cried McRae, as he snatched the paper that Joe held out to him and devoured its contents, while Robbie peered eagerly over his shoulder.

Then, as they realized what it meant, they set up a wild whoop which made the other members of the team, scattered about the lobby, come running, followed a scene of mad hilarity, during which no one seemed to know what he said or did.

That night the cable carried the news to New York, and from there to every city in the United States. It sounded the death knell of the All-Star League, and it went to pieces like a house of cards. The American public will stand for much, but for nothing so gross and contemptible as that had been.

The trip wound up in a blaze of glory with the Giants just one game to the good in the hot series of games that had been played. They had a swift and joyous journey home, and when they separated on the dock in New York, McRae’s hearty grip of Baseball Joe’s hand fairly made the latter wince.

246

“Good-bye, old man,” he said. “You’ve stood by me like a brick. You’ll be on hand when the bell rings.”

“Joe will hear other bells before that,” grinned Jim, as he looked at Mabel, who flushed rosily.

“What’s that?” asked McRae with a twinkle in his eye.

“Wedding bells,” replied Jim.

THE END

247

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Price 50 cents per volume. Postage 10 cents additional.

Captain Ralph Bonehill is one of the best known and most popular writers for young people. In this series he shows, as no other writer can, the joy, glory and happiness of outdoor life.

FOUR BOY HUNTERSor The Outing of the Gun Club

FOUR BOY HUNTERS

or The Outing of the Gun Club

A fine, breezy story of the woods and waters, of adventures in search of game, and of great times around the campfire, told in Captain Bonehill’s best style. In the book are given full directions for camping out.

GUNS AND SNOWSHOESor The Winter Outing of the Young Hunters

GUNS AND SNOWSHOES

or The Winter Outing of the Young Hunters

In this volume the young hunters leave home for a winter outing on the shores of a small lake. They hunt and trap to their hearts’ content and have adventures in plenty, all calculated to make boys “sit up and take notice.” A good healthy book; one with the odor of the pine forests and the glare of the welcome campfire in every chapter.

YOUNG HUNTERS OF THE LAKEor Out with Rod and Gun

YOUNG HUNTERS OF THE LAKE

or Out with Rod and Gun

Another tale of woods and waters, with some strong hunting scenes and a good deal of mystery. The three volumes make a splendid outdoor series.

OUT WITH GUN AND CAMERAor The Boy Hunters in the Mountains

OUT WITH GUN AND CAMERA

or The Boy Hunters in the Mountains

Takes up the new fad of photographing wild animals as well as shooting them. An escaped circus chimpanzee and an escaped lion add to the interest of the narrative.

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CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York

THE JEWEL SERIESBy AMES THOMPSON

THE JEWEL SERIES

By AMES THOMPSON

12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in colors.Price 50 cents per volume.Postage 10 cents additional.

12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in colors.

Price 50 cents per volume.

Postage 10 cents additional.

A series of stories brimming with hardy adventure, vivid and accurate in detail, and with a good foundation of probability. They take the reader realistically to the scene of action. Besides being lively and full of real situations, they are written in a straight-forward way very attractive to boy readers.

1. THE ADVENTURE BOYSand theVALLEY OF DIAMONDS

In this book they form a party of five, and with the aid of a shrewd, level-headed sailor named Stanley Green, they find a valley of diamonds in the heart of Africa.

2. THE ADVENTURE BOYSand theRIVER OF EMERALDS

With a guide, they set out to find the River of Emeralds. But masked foes, emeralds, and falling mountains are all in the day’s fun for these Adventure Boys.

3. THE ADVENTURE BOYSand theLAGOON OF PEARLS

This time the group starts out on a cruise simply for pleasure, but their adventuresome spirits lead them into the thick of things on a South Sea cannibal island.

4. THE ADVENTURE BOYSand theTEMPLE OF RUBIES

The Adventure Boys find plenty of thrills when they hit the ruby trail, and soon discover that they are marked by some sinister influence to keep them from reaching the Ruby.

5. THE ADVENTURE BOYSand theISLAND OF SAPPHIRES

The paths of the young jewel hunters lead to a mysterious island where the treasures are concealed.

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CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York

THE BOMBA BOOKSBy ROY ROCKWOOD

THE BOMBA BOOKS

By ROY ROCKWOOD

Price 50 cents per volume.Postage 10 cents additional.

Price 50 cents per volume.

Postage 10 cents additional.

Bomba lived far back in the jungles of the Amazon with a half-demented naturalist who told the lad nothing of his past. The jungle boy was a lover of birds, and hunted animals with a bow and arrow and his trusty machete. He had a primitive education in some things, and his daring adventures will be followed with breathless interest by thousands.

1. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY2. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AT THE MOVING MOUNTAIN3. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AT THE GIANT CATARACT4. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY ON JAGUAR ISLAND5. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY IN THE ABANDONED CITY6. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY ON TERROR TRAIL7. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY IN THE SWAMP OF DEATH8. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AMONG THE SLAVES9. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY ON THE UNDERGROUND RIVER10. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AND THE LOST EXPLORERS11. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY IN A STRANGE LAND12. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AMONG THE PYGMIES

1. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY

2. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AT THE MOVING MOUNTAIN

3. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AT THE GIANT CATARACT

4. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY ON JAGUAR ISLAND

5. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY IN THE ABANDONED CITY

6. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY ON TERROR TRAIL

7. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY IN THE SWAMP OF DEATH

8. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AMONG THE SLAVES

9. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY ON THE UNDERGROUND RIVER

10. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AND THE LOST EXPLORERS

11. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY IN A STRANGE LAND

12. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AMONG THE PYGMIES

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CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York

THE WEBSTER SERIESBy FRANK V. WEBSTER

THE WEBSTER SERIES

By FRANK V. WEBSTER

Mr. WEBSTER’S style is very much like that of the boys’ favorite author, the late lamented Horatio Alger, Jr., but his tales are thoroughly up-to-date.

Cloth. 12mo. Over 200 pages each. Illustrated.Stamped in various colors.Price per volume, 50 cents.Postage 10 cents additional.

Cloth. 12mo. Over 200 pages each. Illustrated.

Stamped in various colors.

Price per volume, 50 cents.

Postage 10 cents additional.

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