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The Rushton Boys at Treasure Cove Or, The Missing Chest of Gold   By:

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THE RUSHTON BOYS AT TREASURE COVE

OR

THE MISSING CHEST OF GOLD

BY

SPENCER DAVENPORT

Author of "The Rushton Boys at Rally Hall," "The Rushton Boys in the Saddle," etc.

WHITMAN PUBLISHING CO.

RACINE, WISCONSIN

BOOKS FOR BOYS

BY

SPENCER DAVENPORT

THE RUSHTON BOYS SERIES

THE RUSHTON BOYS AT RALLY HALL Or, Great Days in School and Out

THE RUSHTON BOYS IN THE SADDLE Or, The Ghost of the Plains

THE RUSHTON BOYS AT TREASURE COVE Or, The Missing Chest of Gold

COPYRIGHT, 1916

GEORGE SULLY & COMPANY

Printed by

WESTERN PRINTING & LITHOGRAPHING CO.

Racine, Wisconsin

Printed in U. S. A.

THE RUSHTON BOYS AT TREASURE COVE

CHAPTER I

THE COMING STORM

"Say, boys, it looks like a storm and a heavy one, too."

The jest and laughter ceased at once, and three pairs of eyes looked in the direction pointed out by the speaker.

"See that big bank of cloud climbing up the sky?" continued Fred Rushton. "There's more than a capful of wind in that, if I know anything about weather."

"You're right, Fred," said Lester Lee, who was handling the tiller. "And we're a long way off from home! It's up to us to turn about and make a run for it."

"Oh, I don't think it will amount to anything," said Teddy Rushton, Fred's younger brother, who was never averse to taking a chance. "We're having such a grand time that I hate to make a break for land unless we have to. Besides, I've never been out in a squall, and I'd like to have the experience."

"You'd have more experience than you cared for with this blow that is coming," returned the helmsman, and there was a growing anxiety in his tone. "I'm more familiar with this coast than you are, and I'd rather look at the storm from the shore than from the deck of this catboat. So, here's for a quick scoot for home," he concluded, as he brought the boat around and laid the course for the shore.

It was a staunch little sailboat of twenty two feet in length, and the way she minded her helm, as well as the ease with which she rode the waves, spoke eloquently of her qualities.

On this afternoon, off the coast of Maine, she held a jolly party of four boys. Lester Lee, who owned the boat and managed the tiller, was the host, and his guests were Bill Garwood and Fred and Teddy Rushton, all of them fellow schoolmates of Lester's at Rally Hall. It was vacation time, and the boys were gloating over the fact that they were going to have several weeks more than usual before school opened in the fall. The news had come in a letter that Fred had received that morning from Melvin Granger, one of his last year's chums.

"Good for old Mel!" exulted Teddy. "He knew how good we'd feel about it, and he couldn't get the news to us quickly enough."

"That stroke of lightning knew its business when it struck the right wing of the building," laughed Fred. "Mel says that several of the rooms were burned out, and it will be fully a month after the usual time before everything can be got in running order."

"I'll bet old Hardtack is raving, because he can't get us under his thumb as soon as he expected," grinned Bill, referring in this irreverent fashion to Dr. Hardach Rally, head of Rally Hall.

"It's lucky the lightning didn't hit the gymnasium, anyway," commented Lester. "We'll have some tough teams to tackle this coming year and we'll need all the practice we can get. Ease her off a little, Fred," he added, to the older Rushton boy, who was handling the sheet.

Fred did so, just in time to avoid the full force of a big wave that was coming on the port side. But enough of it came aboard to drench thoroughly Teddy and Bill, who were lounging at the foot of the mast.

"Wow!" yelled Teddy, as he scrambled to his feet. "That was a corker. I got a gallon down my back that time."

"Gallon?" echoed Bill. "It seemed to me more like a hogshead. I'm as wet as a drowned rat... Continue reading book >>




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