Bart Keene's Hunting Days Or, the Darewell Chums in a Winter Camp
Nonfiction, Religion & Spirituality, New Age, History, Fiction & Literature
| Author: | Allen Chapman | ISBN: | 9781465521149 |
| Publisher: | Library of Alexandria | Publication: | March 8, 2015 |
| Imprint: | Language: | English |
| Author: | Allen Chapman |
| ISBN: | 9781465521149 |
| Publisher: | Library of Alexandria |
| Publication: | March 8, 2015 |
| Imprint: | |
| Language: | English |
A MIDNIGHT EXPEDITION “Hold on there! Go easy, now, fellows,” cautioned Bart Keene to his two chums, as they stole softly along in the darkness. “What are you making all that racket for, Ned?” “It wasn’t me; it was Frank.” “I couldn’t help it,” came from Frank Roscoe in a whisper. “I stumbled on a stone.” “Well, don’t do it again,” retorted Bart. “First thing you know some one will hear us, and the jig will be up.” “And then we can’t play the joke on Stumpy,” added Ned Wilding. “Of course not,” went on Bart. “Easy now. Come on. Keep behind me in a line, and walk in the shadows as much as possible. We’re almost there.” The three lads bent upon playing a peculiar trick on their chum, Fenn, or “Stumpy” Masterson, kept on toward the Darewell High School, at which they were students. The building set well back from the street, and the campus in front was now flooded with brilliant moonlight. It was close to midnight, and to approach the institution unobserved, to take from it certain objects, and to steal away without having been noticed, was the object of the three conspirators. “Are you coming?” asked Bart, as he turned around to observe what progress his companions were making. He saw Ned and Frank standing still, crouched in the shadow of a leafless tree. “What’s the matter?” he continued, somewhat anxiously
A MIDNIGHT EXPEDITION “Hold on there! Go easy, now, fellows,” cautioned Bart Keene to his two chums, as they stole softly along in the darkness. “What are you making all that racket for, Ned?” “It wasn’t me; it was Frank.” “I couldn’t help it,” came from Frank Roscoe in a whisper. “I stumbled on a stone.” “Well, don’t do it again,” retorted Bart. “First thing you know some one will hear us, and the jig will be up.” “And then we can’t play the joke on Stumpy,” added Ned Wilding. “Of course not,” went on Bart. “Easy now. Come on. Keep behind me in a line, and walk in the shadows as much as possible. We’re almost there.” The three lads bent upon playing a peculiar trick on their chum, Fenn, or “Stumpy” Masterson, kept on toward the Darewell High School, at which they were students. The building set well back from the street, and the campus in front was now flooded with brilliant moonlight. It was close to midnight, and to approach the institution unobserved, to take from it certain objects, and to steal away without having been noticed, was the object of the three conspirators. “Are you coming?” asked Bart, as he turned around to observe what progress his companions were making. He saw Ned and Frank standing still, crouched in the shadow of a leafless tree. “What’s the matter?” he continued, somewhat anxiously
