Boys, what do you say to a trip in the Dartaway this afternoon? "Suits me, Sam," replied Tom Rover. "Providing the breeze doesn't get too strong," returned Dick Rover, as he put up his hand to feel the air. "Oh, I don't think it will blow too much," went on Sam Rover. "I don't mind some air." "But no more storms for me!" cried his brother Tom, with a shake of his head. "That last old corker was enough for me." "Where shall we go?" questioned Dick, with a queer little smile creeping around the corners of his mouth. "Oh, my, just to hear Dick!" cried Tom, with a grin. "As if he would go anywhere but to Hope Seminary, to call on Dora!
First of the famous Rover Boys books by future Hardy Boys creator Edward Stratemeyer (under the pseudonym Arthur M Winfield), this is an introduction to the fun-loving ... See our 50 Classic Books Catalog at http: //bit.ly/2Bf1wF
Well, Dick, here we are in San Francisco at last. "Yes, Tom, and what a fine large city it is." "We'll have to take care, or we'll get lost," came from a third boy, the youngest of the party. "Just listen to Sam!" cried Tom Rover. "Get lost! As if we weren't in the habit of taking care of ourselves." "Sam is joking," came from Dick Rover. "Still we might get lost here as well as in New York or any other large city." "Boston is the place to get lost in," said Tom Rover. "Got streets that curve in all directions. But let us go on. Where is the hotel?
Whoop! hurrah! Zip, boom, ah! Rockets! "For gracious' sake, Tom, what's all the racket about? I thought we had all the noise we wanted last night, when we broke up camp." "It's news, Dick, glorious news," returned Tom Rover, and he began to dance a jig on the tent flooring. "It's the best ever." "It won't be glorious news if you bring this tent down on our heads," answered Dick Rover. "Have you discovered a gold mine?" "Better than that, Dick. I've discovered what we are going to do with ourselves this summer." "I thought we were going back to the farm, to rest up, now that the term at Putnam Hall is at an end.
Through his Stratemeyer Syndicate, founded in 1906, Stratemeyer (Arthur M. Winfield) produced short plot summaries for the novels in each series, which he sent to other writers who completed the story. Stratemeyer's series were also innovative in that they were intended purely as entertainment, with little of the moral lessons or educational intent found in most other popular fiction of the early twentieth century.
Boys, what do you say to a trip in the Dartaway this afternoon? "Suits me, Sam," replied Tom Rover. "Providing the breeze doesn't get too strong," returned Dick Rover, as he put up his hand to feel the air. "Oh, I don't think it will blow too much," went on Sam Rover. "I don't mind some air." "But no more storms for me!" cried his brother Tom, with a shake of his head. "That last old corker was enough for me." "Where shall we go?" questioned Dick, with a queer little smile creeping around the corners of his mouth. "Oh, my, just to hear Dick!" cried Tom, with a grin. "As if he would go anywhere but to Hope Seminary, to call on Dora!
Fo' de land sakes, Massa Dick, wot am dat contraption yo' boys dun put togedder back ob de bahn yesterday? "Why, Aleck, don't you know what that is?" returned Dick Rover, with a smile at the colored man. "That's a biplane." "A biplane, eh?" repeated Alexander Pop, the colored helper around the Rover homestead. He scratched his woolly head thoughtfully. "Yo' don't mean to say it am lak a plane a carpenter man uses, does yo', Massa Dick? 'Pears lak to me it was moah lak some ship sails layin' down, -somethin' lak dem ships we see over in Africy, when we went into dem jungles to find yo' fadder.
Hurrah, Sam, it is settled at last that we are to go to boarding school! "Are you certain, Tom? Don't let me raise any false hopes." "Yes, I am certain, for I heard Uncle Randolph tell Aunt Martha that he wouldn't keep us in the house another week. He said he would rather put up with the Central Park menagerie-think of that!" and Tom Rover began to laugh. "That's rather rough on us, but I don't know but what we deserve it," answered Sam Rover, Tom's younger brother. "We have been giving it pretty strong lately, with playing tricks on Sarah the cook, Jack the hired man, and Uncle Randolph's pet dog Alexander. But then we, had to do something-or go into a dry rot. Life in the country is all well enough, but it's mighty slow for me.
Brothers Tom, Sam, and Dick Rover were students at a military boarding school: adventurous, prank-playing, flirtatious, and often unchaperoned adolescents. They were frequently causing mischief for authorities as well as criminals. This is volume 14 in the series.
Brothers Tom, Sam, and Dick Rover were students at a military boarding school: adventurous, prank-playing, flirtatious, and often unchaperoned adolescents. They were frequently causing mischief for authorities as well as criminals. This is volume 5.
Brothers Tom, Sam, and Dick Rover were students at a military boarding school: adventurous, prank-playing, flirtatious, and often unchaperoned adolescents. They were frequently causing mischief for authorities as well as criminals. This is volume 17 in the series.
The four cousins—sons of the original Rover Boys, who featured in the first series of books—had finished with boarding school and were preparing to return home when disaster strikes the family business. The lads set out on an ocean trip in a desperate attempt to fix things...and find more trouble than they bargained for!
Ten years ago, business required me to pass a day in Cedarville. It was late in the afternoon when the stage set me down at the "Sickle and Sheaf," a new tavern, just opened by a new landlord, in a new house, built with the special end of providing "accom
THIS happened a very few years after, my marriage, and is one of those feeling incidents in life that we never forget. My husband's income was moderate, and we found it necessary to deny ourselves many little articles of ornament and luxury, to the end th
A fair day's business. A very fair day's business, said Leonard Jasper, as he closed a small account-book, over which he had been poring, pencil in hand, for some ten minutes. The tone in which he spoke expressed more than ordinary gratification. "To
PAUL! The young man started, and a delicate flush mantled his handsome face, as he turned to the lady who had pronounced his name in a tone slightly indicative of surprise. "Ah! Mrs. Denison," was his simple response. "You seem unusually absent-
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