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Pee-Wee Harris on the Trail By: Percy Keese Fitzhugh (1876-1950) |
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PEE WEE HARRIS ON THE TRAIL
BY
PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH Author of THE TOM SLADE BOOKS, THE ROY BLAKELEY BOOKS THE PEE WEE HARRIS BOOKS
ILLUSTRATED BY
H. S BARBOUR
Published with the approval of THE BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS :: NEW YORK Made in the United States of America
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE I THE LONE FIGURE 1
II A PATHETIC SIGHT 5
III THREE GOOD TURNS 9
IV THE FIVE REELER 15
V R R R ROBBERS! 20
VI A MESSAGE IN THE DARK 24
VII LOCKED DOORS 28
VIII A DISCOVERY 32
IX THE TENTH CASE 36
X A RACE WITH DEATH 41
XI A RURAL PARADISE 45
XII ENTER THE GENUINE ARTICLE 48
XIII A FRIEND IN NEED 56
XIV SAVED! 61
XV IN CAMP 65
XVI FOOTPRINTS 74
XVII ACTION 80
XVIII THE MESSAGE 84
XIX PAGE TWO HUNDRED AND EIGHTY FOUR 88
XX STOP! 92
XXI SEEIN' THINGS 97
XXII HARK! THE CONQUERING HERO COMES 104
XXIII PETER FINDS A WAY 109
XXIV DESERTED 114
XXV BEDLAM 122
XXVI THE CULPRIT AT THE BAR 128
XXVII SOME NOISE 134
XXVIII ON THE TRAIL 138
XXIX VOICES 142
XXX FACE TO FACE 146
XXXI ALONE 154
XXXII ON TO BRIDGEBORO 159
XXXIII HARK! THE CONQUERING HERO COMES BACK 165
XXXIV PEE WEE HOLDS FORTH 169
XXXV SCOUTMASTER NED DOESN'T SEE 174
XXXVI MORE HARDLING 180
XXXVII HINTS 185
XXXVIII THE FIXER 192
XXXIX BETRAYED! 197
XL GUESS AGAIN 206
ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE "WHO WHO ARE YOU?" PEE WEE STAMMERED Frontispiece
HANDWRITTEN NOTE 27
"The road is closed," said Peter. 109
PEE WEE BEFORE THE JUSTICE OF THE PEACE. 130
"WE'RE NOT MINERS, WE'RE SCOUTS!" PEE WEE SHOUTED. 202
PEE WEE HARRIS ON THE TRAIL
CHAPTER I THE LONE FIGURE
The night was bleak and cold. All through the melancholy, cheerless day,
the first chill of autumn had been in the air. Toward evening the clouds
had parted, showing a steel colored sky in which the sun went down a
great red ball, tinting the foliage across the river with a glow of
crimson. A sun full of rich light but no heat. The air was heavy with the pungent fragrance of burning leaves. The
gutters along Main Street were full of these fluttering, red memorials
of the good old summer time. But there were other signs that the melancholy days had come. Down at
the Bridgeboro station was a congestion of trunks and other luggage
bespeaking the end of the merry play season. And saddest of all, the
windows of the stationery stores were filled with pencil boxes and blank
books and other horrible reminders of the opening of school. Look where one would, these signs confronted the boys of Bridgeboro, and
there was no escaping them. Even the hardware store had straps and tin
lunch boxes now filling its windows, the same window where fishing rods
and canoe paddles had lately been displayed. Even the man who kept the shoe store had turned traitor and gathered up
his display of sneaks and scout moccasins, and exhibited in their places
a lot of school shoes... Continue reading book >>
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Fiction |
Teen/Young adult |
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