CHAPTER XVII.

CONCLUSION.

It was a very unsociable pair who rode away from the woods that afternoon. Ned, who knew that he could not take care of himself, tried his best to heal the breach that had been caused between himself and his companion, by the hasty and ungenerous words he had uttered the night before, but Gus repelled all his advances. Knowing that his old friend would drop him again as soon as he could find some one else to lean on, Gus would have nothing to say to him; so Ned gave up in despair, and rode along in silence. We may add that this was the way they travelled every day, until they reached Brownsville. Gus stopped for the night when and where he pleased, resumed his journey in the morning when he got ready, and never consulted Ned, who was at liberty to follow or stay behind, just as he chose.

The boys soon found the trail which they had no difficulty in following, for it was as plain as a wagon road. Indeed, it was a wagon road, for it was used by the settlers and army teamsters in hauling goods up and down the river. Gus at once set off at a sharp gallop and Ned lumbered along a few paces in his rear. They rode in this way until the sun sank out of sight, and the shadows of twilight began to deepen into the gloom of night, and Gus was telling himself that there was a fair prospect that they would be obliged to go supperless to bed, when his eyes were gladdened by the sight of a rancho a little distance away. Urging his horse forward at a faster pace, he drew up in front of the building a moment later, and was welcomed by a half a dozen ill-looking curs, which ran out and barked at him vociferously.

“Hallo, in there!” shouted Gus, hardly believing that he could make himself heard above the din raised by the angry pack which surrounded him. “Anybody at home?”

“Get out, ye brutes!” roared a voice from the inside. “Alight an’ hitch, strangers.”

The dogs retreated under the porch, where they remained growling savagely, and now and then giving utterance to an impatient bark, and presently the owner of the voice appeared in the open door. In dress and appearance he was in perfect keeping with his surroundings, which, when the boys c to look at them, they found to be of the most primitive character. The house was a rambling old structure, built of logs and rough, unpainted boards. There were wide gaps in the shingles on the roof, and the rickety porch groaned and creaked as the man stepped upon it. The few outbuildings that could be seen were in the same dilapidated condition. The house was undoubtedly the home of a squatter, who made his living by pasturing cattle on government land.

“Alight an’ hitch, strangers,” repeated the man. “You’re welcome to sich as we’ve got, an’ that ain’t none of the best, I can tell you. You see we went back into the country to git shet of the raiders an’ we’ve jest come hum to-day.”

“Did you lose any of your cattle?” asked Gus, and after he had asked the question, he was surprised at himself for doing it. Probably the man owned two or three cows, which supplied his family with milk, and the raiders would not go far out of their way to pick up such a herd as that.

“Nary hoof,” replied the squatter, with a triumphant air. “I tuk my three thousand head safe off an’ brung ‘em all back agin!”

Gus was astonished. The man was rich. He was worth at least sixty thousand dollars (Gus had heard that beef cattle were worth twenty dollars a piece) and yet he lived in a hovel at which a respectable dog would turn up his nose. It looked so untidy and altogether forbidding that Gus did not want to go into it; but knowing that he would find plenty to eat in there, and believing that he could find a shelter somewhere under the leaky roof, he dismounted, and the squatter came down the steps and took charge of his horse.

“Go right in, strangers,” said he. “The ole woman’s in thar, an’ I reckon supper’s ‘most ready.”

Gus went in, but Ned, who felt very lonely and down-hearted, seated himself on the porch and brooded over his troubles. The former found that the living-room, which was the one he entered, was as uninviting as the outside of the house. The floor was littered with various odds and ends, including saddles, bridles, horse-blankets and old boots, and the holes in the walls were covered with hides which were hung up over them to keep out the wind and rain. One side of the room was occupied by an immense fire-place, in front of which stood the squatter’s wife, who was busy with her preparations for supper. She looked up when the boy entered, waved a case-knife toward an old chest which stood beside the door, and requested him to sit down; and that was the only time Gus heard her speak while he remained at the rancho.

The boys fared a great deal better than they expected. The supper was abundant and well cooked, but the dishes on which it was served up might have been a little cleaner. The squatter was very sociable in his way, and after entertaining the young travellers with many stories of exciting and amusing adventure drawn from his own experience, he asked them where they came from and where they were going.

“I don’t know where I am going,” answered Gus, ignoring the first part of the question, and speaking entirely for himself. “I am looking for a chance to go into business of some kind, and if I could get stock enough to begin on I might be tempted to try cattle-raising on the squatter plan.”

This was enough to set their host to going again, and during the rest of the evening he kept the boys interested. He told of his own trials and failures, and gave Gus some advice which might have been valuable to him had he thought seriously of going into the business of cattle-raising. The squatter talked almost incessantly until ten o’clock, and then seeing that Gus began to yawn he stopped abruptly and led the boys into an adjoining room.

“I brung your saddles an’ things in yere,” said he. “You can spread your blankets on the floor an’ sleep as comfor’ble as you please. Mebbe the roof’ll leak a little if it rains, an’ if it does, you can come in an’ lay down in front of the fire. All night to you!”

So saying the squatter left the room, and the boys began groping about in the dark in search of their saddles, to which their blankets and ponchos were fastened. They found them at last, and after making their beds they lay down on them without bidding each other good-night, and prepared to go to sleep. It was very probable that the room would leak a little in case of a sudden shower, Gus thought, as he looked up at the roof. There were several holes in it, and some of them were so large that he could have crept through them. He lay there for a long time looking up at the stars, thinking of his home, and telling himself how foolish he was to run away from it just in time to miss that excursion to the trout streams of the Adirondacks, and when his eye-lids were beginning to grow heavy and the holes in the roof to assume fantastic shapes, Ned suddenly started up and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“What’s that?” said he, in a low whisper. “Don’t you hear something?”

Gus was wide awake in an instant. He held his breath and listened for a moment, and then sank back in his blanket again.

“I don’t see any sense in frightening a fellow half to death for nothing!” said he. “Let me alone, now. I want to go to sleep!”

“But I hear horses,” whispered Ned. “They’re coming fast, too.”

“So do I hear them; but what of it?” replied Gus.

He spoke as though he took no interest whatever in the matter, but if Ned could have seen his face, he would have found that it was growing whiter every moment. Gus heard the sound of the hoofs plainly enough, but until Ned spoke it never occurred to him that the horses which made the noise might be ridden by men who were in pursuit of himself and his companion. A few seconds later the dogs were aroused and rushed out in a body to salute the approaching horsemen. Ned hoped from the bottom of his heart that they would pass on without stopping, but in this he was disappointed. The horsemen came straight toward the house, the sound of the hoofs ceased suddenly in front of the porch, and a voice that made Ned tremble all over rang out on the air.

“Hallo, the house!” came the hail.

“Get out, ye brutes!” shouted the squatter; whereupon the dogs scattered and took refuge under the porch. “Alight an’ hitch, strangers. I’ll be thar in a minute!”

The boys heard their host moving about the living-room and mending the fire to make it blaze. Then he opened the door and they listened with all their ears to hear what passed between him and the new comers. As there was but one thin board partition (and that was full of wide cracks) between them and the door, they could catch every word that was uttered.

“Alight an’ hitch, strangers,” said the squatter, repeating his stereotyped invitation. “You’re welcome to sich as we’ve got, an’ that ain’t none of the best, I can tell you.”

“Thank you,” replied the same voice that had hailed the house; and when Ned heard it he trembled again. “If you will let us spread our blankets on your porch, and will give us a bite to eat in the morning, we shall be much obliged. We’ll not ask you to get supper for us. It is too late.”

“No occasion, stranger; no occasion,” replied the hospitable squatter. “Ole woman, here’s a couple of hungry gentle_men_ out here who want something to eat. Travellin’ fur, strangers?”

“We’ve ridden about seventy-five miles. Have you seen a party of four persons pass this way to-day, one of them a young fellow, riding a dark chestnut horse with white mane and tail, and four white feet?”

“Gracious!” thought Ned.

“Aha!” said Gus, to himself, at the same time drawing a long breath of relief. “He didn’t say a word about the cattle that were shot, so I have nothing to fear. Ned can look out for number one; that’s what he was going to make me do. But he asked after _four_ persons. Who is the other, I wonder? There were but three of us before George was taken away.”

“Ain’t seed no sich,” replied the squatter.

“That’s very strange,” said the voice. “They must have come this way, for they are going to Brownsville. The fellow who rode this horse wore a sombrero, high patent leather boots and a buckskin coat with silver buttons. He carried an ivory-handled riding-whip, had silver-plated spurs on his heels, and the horse wore a gold-mounted saddle and bridle.”

“Ain’t seed no sich,” repeated the squatter, while Ned wondered where the man had obtained so accurate a description of him.

“They couldn’t have gone by without attracting your attention, could they?”

“Nary time. I see everybody who goes along this trail by daylight. Come in, gentle_men_. The ole woman’ll cook you a bite of something an’ I’ll look arter your critters.”

The listening boys knew when the unwelcome visitors dismounted and entered the house, and Gus, who sat where he could look through one of the widest cracks into the living-room, the interior of which was now brightly lighted up by the fire on the hearth, noticed that the squatter’s wife motioned to them with a case-knife, to sit down on the chest by the side of the door. After Gus had taken a good look at them, he did not wonder that their appearance frightened Ned so badly that he dared not confess that the stolen horse was in his possession. Ned could not see the men, but he knew they were in the next room, and not more than twelve or fifteen feet from him. What would become of him when they discovered that he was in the house? He would certainly meet them the next morning at the breakfast table, and if they recognised him, it would be all over with Ned Ackerman.

“I wonder why father didn’t settle the matter with them, as George told him to do!” thought Ned, who always blamed somebody beside himself for the trouble he got into. “He had the money, he ought to have done it, and he has got me into a pretty mess by not doing it. If I ever see him again, I’ll give him a piece of my mind, I bet you.”

Another thing that aroused the boy’s anger, was the manner in which Gus conducted himself. While Ned was sitting upon his blanket, trembling in every muscle and living in momentary expectation of discovery, Gus had the impudence to lie down and roll over on his side with his hand under his cheek, as if he were trying to go to sleep. Ned could see it all by the aid of the light which streamed in through the cracks in the partition.

“Say, Gus,” he whispered, shaking his companion as roughly as he dared, “what am I to do? Get up and suggest something.”

“I don’t care what you do,” answered Gus, who thought this a good time to pay Ned for what he had said the night before. “It is none of my funeral. I didn’t steal the horse.”

“Neither did I,” said Ned, who was so angry that it was all he could do to control himself. “Shall I creep out of the house, if I can get out, or shall I stay here and take my chances?”

“Do just as you please. I am not interested in the matter at all.”

“Your critters is done took care on!” exclaimed the squatter, who came in at that moment. “What’s this yere feller with the silver buttons an’ the hoss with the white stockins on been a doin’ of?”

“The boy is a receiver of stolen property,” came the reply, in a tone which made Ned tremble more violently than ever. “Do you know anything about the people who live in the Ackerman settlement?”

“Never heard tell of none of ‘em,” answered the squatter.

“It is my opinion that they are no better than they should be,” continued the owner of the stolen horse. “Every man and boy we met except one is a friend to this fellow who ran off with my property. That one’s name was Cook. He has lost some cattle through this same Ned Ackerman, and is very anxious he should be caught. I am going to have that horse if he is in the state.”

“And we’re going to have the boy who ran away with him, too,” added the other rancheman.

Slowly and cautiously Ned stretched himself upon his blanket, and drawing his body into as small a compass as he could, as if he hoped in this way to lessen the chances for discovery, he lay and listened to the conversation that followed. The visitors talked principally about cattle-raising, and there was little more said concerning the lost steed and the boy who was supposed to have run away with him; but that little served to convince Ned, if he needed any further proof, that the men were determined they would not go home until they had captured him and recovered the horse. As soon as they had eaten the supper that had been prepared for them the squatter offered to show them where they could spread their blankets; and Ned’s heart almost stopped beating when he heard the three men enter the narrow hall leading to the room occupied by himself and Gus. At the same time a faint light shone in upon him, and Ned saw that the doorway was concealed by a tattered blanket. The light shone through this blanket, which, while Ned looked at it, was raised, admitting the squatter, who carried a blazing fire-brand in his hand.

“Come right in here,” said he, as he held up the blanket; and Ned was almost ready to faint when he saw the ranchemen enter, each carrying his saddle in his hand. “These yere is two chaps who is out cattle-buyin’,” continued the squatter, waving his fire-brand toward the boys. “An’ these yere is two fellers lookin’ for a hoss-thief. Know yourselves, gentle_men_!”

Believing that by this introduction he had made the two parties acquainted with each other, the squatter relapsed into silence and held up his fire-brand so that the ranchemen could see to arrange their beds. The latter nodded to the boys and wished a hearty good-evening to which Gus alone responded. Ned could not have uttered a word to save his life. Was it possible that he could stay in the same room with those men all night? He thought they looked at him a little suspiciously, and to show them that he was not the boy who wore the high patent-leather boots and silver buttons, Ned threw off his blanket so that all his clothes could be seen.

“Buying cattle, eh?” said the owner of the horse. “Going into the ranche business?”

“I don’t know that I can do anything better,” replied Gus.

“You don’t want anything better if you manage rightly,” said the man. “I have known young fellows like you and your partner to start out with a few head of stock and make themselves rich before they were forty years old. But of course they worked hard and attended strictly to business. That’s the only way to get on in this world. Now, my friend, we shall not need your light any longer.”

Ned was glad indeed when the squatter dropped the blanket to its place and went out with his fire-brand. He was glad, too, that the ranchemen were tired and sleepy, for he did not want to hear them talk. He was afraid that they might address some of their remarks to him. They did not know him in his cousin’s clothes, and they did not recognise his face for the reason that they had not obtained a fair view of it on the night they visited the rancho; but they had heard his voice, and they might remember it if they heard it again. So Ned determined that he would not speak. He pretended to fall asleep immediately, but the fact was he did not sleep a wink that night. The mere presence of the men who were hunting him so perseveringly was enough to keep him wide awake. The long hours of night had never dragged so slowly away before, nor had Ned ever longed so impatiently for the daylight. The first gray streaks of dawn which came creeping in through the wide cracks in the walls around the slumbering ranchemen who, after exchanging a few words in a low tone of voice, arose and left the room, taking their blankets and saddles with them. Ned heard them in conversation with the squatter, and wished most heartily that the latter would not be so persistent in his efforts to keep them until breakfast was over. He did not want the ranchemen to see him by daylight, and he was overjoyed to hear them declare that all they wanted was a cold bite, and if their host would provide them with that they would be off. The cold bite was speedily forthcoming, and when the ranchemen had done full justice to it, they mounted their horses and rode away. Then Ned breathed easily for the first time in long hours.

This was the last adventure that befell our young travellers while they were on their way to Brownsville. They never went a mile out of their way; they fared well along the route, and their meals and lodging did not cost them a cent. The door of any rancho or farm-house that happened to be in sight when night came was open to them, the owner treated them like honored guests, and always refused to accept any remuneration. They rode into Brownsville one morning about ten o’clock. Having made inquiries at their last night’s stopping-place they knew the name of the best hotel and where to go to find it, and toward it they directed their course. Giving their horses in charge of a man who came out to meet them as they drew up in front of the door, they went in, and Ned, having signed his name to the register, called for a room.

“Gus has treated me as though I wasn’t Ned Ackerman at all,” thought he, as he followed the bell-boy up the stairs. “He has travelled on his own hook, leaving me to take care of myself, and now I am going to pay him back in his own coin. He ought to come and make things straight with me, if he only knew it, for he can’t have the cheek to go home again after what he has done.”

But Gus had not the slightest intention of making things straight. He had had quite enough of his old friend, and he was just as independent as Ned was. He did not register his name, but went into the wash-room, and after removing all the travel-stains from his hands, face and clothing, he came out, and left the hotel. It was a long time before Ned heard where he went and what he did.

Meanwhile, Ned was working hard with a brush broom, a piece of soap and a coarse towel, to make himself presentable; but when he got through and took a look at himself in the mirror, he was anything but pleased with the result. His hands and face were very brown, and his red shirt looked as though it had been through two or three wars. “I can’t stand this. I am ashamed of myself,” thought he. “I noticed as I came along, that there were a good many stylish young fellows on the street, and I am not going among them with such clothes as these on. Fortunately, I have money enough to rig myself out equal to the best of them. If I only had my nobby suit now, wouldn’t I make folks stare?”

Ned went down stairs and out of the hotel. When he returned, about half an hour later, he carried a satchel in his hand and a bundle under his arm. He made his way to his room, and when he came out again, no one who had seen him when he rode into town would have taken him for the same boy. Gus Robbins would have been obliged to look twice at him before he could have recognised him. His cousin’s coarse clothing had been exchanged for a broadcloth suit of the latest and most fashionable cut, and the wearer looked like a dapper young clerk out for a holiday.

Being satisfied now that he could appear on the streets without attracting any but admiring glances, Ned went down to the office. The clerk was not there, and while the boy stood leaning against the counter, waiting for him to come in so that he could give him his key, he heard a voice behind him—a familiar voice, that made the cold chills creep all over him. He knew who the owner of the voice was, but some strange fascination compelled him to turn his head and look at him over his shoulder. There were two men standing in front of the counter with the register before them. One held a pen in his hand, and was on the point of writing his name, when another name above the first vacant line attracted his attention.

“Why, look here, Joe,” said he. “‘_Edward Ackerman._’ That’s our man. He was coming to Brownsville, you know.”

“So he was,” said Joe.

Just then the clerk passed around behind the counter. He looked at Ned as he went by, but did not act as though he had ever seen him before.

“Mr. Clerk,” said the owner of the stolen horse, for it was he, “who is this Edward Ackerman?”

“Don’t know’ him,” answered the clerk. “He’s a stranger.”

“What sort of a looking fellow is he?”

“O, he’s roughly dressed, and looks as though he might be a cow-boy!”

“That doesn’t answer the description, but we might have a peep at him if he is in his room. Show us up, will you?”

The clerk sounded his signal-bell, and when the boy came up in answer to it, he was commanded to show the gentlemen up to number thirty-three. Ned watched them as they followed the boy up the stairs, and then left the counter and went out on the street. He would have been glad to give up the key of his room and send for his valise, which contained the rest of the clothing he had just purchased, but he could do neither without exposing himself on the spot.

“Am I never going to see the last of those men?” thought Ned, as he hurried along, turning every corner he came to, as if he hoped in that way, to leave his pursuers behind for ever. “I can’t stay at that hotel if they are going to stop there. I wish father would hurry up. I shall be in danger as long as I am in this town.”

Ned found a second-rate hotel, after a few minutes’ walk, and concluded to stop there. Profiting by his past experience, he signed a fictitious name to the register, and then settled down to wait as patiently as he could for his father’s arrival. He waited almost a week, and was beginning to fear that he would never come, when one day, to his great delight, he met him on the street. Ned’s first act was to relate the particulars of his two adventures with the ranchemen, and to take his father to task for not settling the matter with them. He never said a word about his cousin’s capture or Gus Robbins’s sudden disappearance, for those little incidents were of no consequence whatever.

“Those men are following me around under the impression that I still have the horse in my possession,” said Ned, angrily. “Why didn’t you tell them that he went off with the raiders?”

“Because I didn’t have the chance,” replied his father. “They never came near my house that night. If they will go back to Mr. Gilbert’s they will find money enough in his hands to pay for the horse and for their trouble, too. By the way, where’s George?”

Ned looked up at his father in surprise. He had never before known him to throw so much earnestness into a simple question, or seem so eager for an answer to it.

“O, a couple of Greasers took him away from us!” said Ned, indifferently. “I’ll tell you all about it by and by.”

“Come around to my hotel,” said Uncle John, hurriedly. “I want to know all about it now. We have a good many other things to talk about also.”

Yes, they had many things to talk about, and it took them a long time to explain matters so that each might know what had happened to the other during their short separation. Ned told a truthful story, but he did not learn so very much from his father in return. There were some things that Uncle John thought it best to keep to himself.

And where were George and Gus all this while? The story of their adventures is too long to be told in this book. We shall begin it immediately in the second volume of this series, and as we go along we shall take up the history of another runaway, Tony Richardson by name, of whose short experience with the ways of the world we have already had something to say. We shall also take our hero, George Ackerman, away from his home, and tell of his experience and exploits in an occupation he had never dreamed of following. The volume will be entitled, “GEORGE AT THE WHEEL; OR, LIFE IN THE PILOT-HOUSE.”

THE END.

THE

FAMOUS

CASTLEMON

BOOKS.

BY

HARRY

CASTLEMON.

No author of the present day has become a greater favorite with boys than “Harry Castlemon;” every book by him is sure to meet with hearty reception by young readers generally. His naturalness and vivacity lead his readers from page to page with breathless interest, and when one volume is finished the fascinated reader, like Oliver Twist, asks “for more.”

⁂Any volume sold separately.

=GUNBOAT SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 6 vols., 12mo. Fully $7 50 illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box

=Frank, the Young Naturalist= 1 25

=Frank in the Woods= 1 25

=Frank on the Prairie= 1 25

=Frank on a Gunboat= 1 25

=Frank before Vicksburg= 1 25

=Frank on the Lower Mississippi= 1 25

=GO AHEAD SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully $3 75 illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box

=Go Ahead=; or, The Fisher Boy’s Motto 1 25

=No Moss=; or, The Career of a Rolling Stone 1 25

=Tom Newcombe=; or, The Boy of Bad Habits 1 25

=ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully $3 75 illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box

=Frank at Don Carlos’ Rancho= 1 25

=Frank among the Rancheros= 1 25

=Frank in the Mountains= 1 25

=SPORTSMAN’S CLUB SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. $3 75 Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box

=The Sportsman’s Club in the Saddle= 1 25

=The Sportsman’s Club Afloat= 1 25

=The Sportsman’s Club among the Trappers= 1 25

=FRANK NELSON SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols. 12mo. Fully $3 75 illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box

=Snowed Up=; or, The Sportsman’s Club in the Mts. 1 25

=Frank Nelson in the Forecastle=; or, The Sportsman’s Club among 1 25 the Whalers

=The Boy Traders=; or, The Sportsman’s Club among the Boers 1 25

=BOY TRAPPER SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully $3 75 illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box

=The Buried Treasure=; or, Old Jordan’s “Haunt” 1 25

=The Boy Trapper=; or, How Dave Filled the Order 1 25

=The Mail Carrier= 1 25

=ROUGHING IT SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully $3 75 illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box

=George in Camp=; or, Life on the Plains 1 25

=George at the Wheel=; or, Life in a Pilot House 1 25

=George at the Fort=; or, Life Among the Soldiers 1 25

=ROD AND GUN SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully $3 75 illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box

=Don Gordon’s Shooting Box= 1 25

=Rod and Gun= 1 25

=The Young Wild Fowlers= 1 25

=FOREST AND STREAM SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. $3 75 Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box

=Joe Wayring at Home=; or, Story of a Fly Rod 1 25

=Snagged and Sunk=; or, The Adventures of a Canvas Canoe 1 25

=Steel Horse=; or, The Rambles of a Bicycle 1 25

=WAR SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 4 vols., 12mo. Fully $5 00 illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box

=True to his Colors= 1 25

=Rodney, the Partisan= 1 25

=Marcy, the Blockade Runner= 1 25

=Marcy, the Refugee= 1 25

=OUR FELLOWS=; or, Skirmishes with the Swamp Dragoons. By Harry 1 25 Castlemon. 16mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra

ALGER’S

RENOWNED

BOOKS.

BY

HORATIO

ALGER, JR.

Horatio Alger, Jr., has attained distinction as one of the most popular writers of books for boys, and the following list comprises all of his best books.

⁂Any volume sold separately.

=RAGGED DICK SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr. 6 vols., 12mo. Fully $7 50 illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box

=Ragged Dick=; or, Street Life in New York 1 25

=Fame and Fortune=; or, The Progress of Richard Hunter 1 25

=Mark, the Match Boy=; or, Richard Hunter’s Ward 1 25

=Rough and Ready=; or, Life among the New York Newsboys 1 25

=Ben, the Luggage Boy=; or, Among the Wharves 1 25

=Rufus and Rose=; or, the Fortunes of Rough and Ready 1 25

=TATTERED TOM SERIES.= (FIRST SERIES.) By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 5 00 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

1. Both words ‘ranche’ and ‘rancho’ appear numerous times in the text. Did not change either. 2. Added the word ‘less’ between the words ‘a’ and ‘exposed’ on p. 169. 3. Changed ‘did’ to ‘died’ on p. 209. 4. Changed ‘Probable’ to ‘Probably’ on p. 228. 5. Changed ‘me’ to ‘himself’ on p. 311. 6. Changed ‘recurred’ to ‘occurred’ on p. 331. 7. Silently corrected typographical errors. 8. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed. 9. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. 10. Enclosed bold font in =equals=.