Copper Coleson's Ghost

“It’s going to be a black night,” remarked Dave, as the car regained speed. “Look at those clouds piling up. Here’s hoping it doesn’t rain on us,” and he pointed to a low-lying...

In the rear of a white cottage, known to all residents of the town of Truesdell as “the Blake homestead,” stands a great apple tree, whose leafy boughs have afforded shade in su...

The interest that had been aroused by the cave-in of Copper Coleson’s mine was as nothing compared with the excitement which prevailed when it became known that the property had...

Ned Blake found himself still in a very uncertain state of mind, when he awoke at noon of the following day. After a meal which was a combination of breakfast and lunch, he set...

The school year had ended in a fashion to delight the heart of every loyal son of Truesdell, and the day following graduation found a group of the boys lounging in Dave Wilbur’s...

When Ned Blake and Dick Somers arrived at the Coleson house the next afternoon, they listened to a tale beside which Sam’s story was colorless by comparison. Dave Wilbur, who ha...

The winter, which dealt so severely with the great melancholy house standing lonely on the shore of Lake Erie, was proving a very cheerful season for the lads of Truesdell. Dick...

Hardly an hour had elapsed since its previous trip when the patient flivver was again coughing its way up the drive to the Coleson house. Neither Wat Sanford nor Jim Tapley had...

Ned Blake and Dick Somers had secreted themselves among the bushes in such position that they could see any movement that might take place at the rear of the house or along its...

A special train brought a wild crowd of Bedford supporters down to Truesdell for the big game. Rooters for the local team jammed the bleachers and watched the preliminary practi...

“You mean he’d like to quit,” laughed Ned. “I got down to the town hall bright and early this morning and paid that lease in full, right up to the end of September. I met Sam as...

For several moments the boys blinked owlishly in the strong light and filling their lungs with sweet, fresh air, that seemed indeed like a breath of new life after their long co...

“Humph!” grunted Dick, who also was gazing after the hurrying figure. “He must have been in an awful rush, if he’d pay twenty-five dollars just to get here ahead of the express....

Sitting there in the murky dimness of the old mine, Dick Somers struggled manfully against the anxiety which was making his heart throb painfully. Ned Blake was pal and leader o...

“But I can’t see why anybody should want to drive _us_ out,” complained Tommy Beals in an injured tone. “We won’t horn in on their business—whatever that may be—if they’ll just...

“Shucks! We can break down this door!” cried Charlie Rogers. “Wait a minute till I get that winch-handle!” and running down the stairs, he quickly returned with the heavy iron c...

As the dump-car moved steadily downward along the rails, Ned Blake held the lantern high and peered ahead. The feeble yellow gleam showed the rock roof and sides of the tunnel,...

It had been a great winter for the lads of Truesdell. Although the big blizzard put an end to ice-boating, it provided instead snow-shoeing, ski-running, and many other delightf...

Certain that Slugger Slade would lose no time in putting a safe distance between himself and the Coleson house, the boys turned their attention to the opening in the foundation...

If Tommy Beals found the open-air gymnasium impracticable, the same was not true of Dick Somers, whose slim, wiry body took most kindly to the various hanging rings and flying t...

“But how do you know that Eli Coleson is dead?” argued Ned. “This letter was written on a typewriter and if it is really from Eli, why it proves that he isn’t dead, doesn’t it?”

The meeting held next morning in Dave Wilbur’s garage was a strictly private affair. Neither Wat Sanford nor Jim Tapley was informed of it for the reason that neither of them co...

Dave Wilbur was washing the flivver—or, to be entirely accurate, Dave was playing the hose on the car while Tommy Beals and Charlie Rogers wielded sponge and rag in an effort to...

The week that now followed was one of hard labor, and the long hours of work at the Coleson house were succeeded by earnest rehearsals of the orchestra. Such industry brought gr...

Dave Wilbur’s back-yard was, as has been said, a favorite meeting-place for the Truesdell boys, and when for any reason secret sessions were desirable, the garage was especially...