قراءة كتاب Chums of the Camp Fire
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
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Chums of the Camp Fire BY LAWRENCE J. LESLIE  MADE IN U. S. A. M. A. DONOHUE & COMPANY CHICAGO : : NEW YORK |
COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY
THE NEW YORK BOOK COMPANY
Contents
| I | THE FROG HUNTERS | 15 | |
| II | STEVE PLAYS HERO | 25 | |
| III | WHEN DREAMS CAME TRUE | 36 | |
| IV | A PROFITABLE BACK YARD | 47 | |
| V | ON THE WAY TO THE WOODS | 58 | |
| VI | THE TERRIBLE ROAR | 69 | |
| VII | THE QUEER ACTIONS OF STEVE | 80 | |
| VIII | THE MYSTERIOUS HAM THROWER | 91 | |
| IX | "MILLIONS FOR DEFENSE!" | 102 | |
| X | THE WILD ANIMAL TRAP | 113 | |
| XI | TOO TRICKY FOR TOBY | 124 | |
| XII | A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE | 135 | |
| XIII | THE SECRET OUT | 146 | |
| XIV | A PLOT AGAINST THE MISSING LINK | 157 | |
| XV | THE BATTLE OF WITS | 168 | |
| XVI | THE LAST CAMP FIRE—CONCLUSION | 179 |
[Transcriber's Note: Table of Contents was not present in original edition.]
CHUMS OF THE CAMPFIRE
"How many greenback saddles does that last bullfrog Max shot make, Toby!"
"T-t-thirteen, all t-t-told, Steve."
"Ginger! that's going some for so early in the spring season, isn't it? I'd like to get about twenty before we quit, which would make just five for each of us, Max, Bandy-legs, you and myself. And seems like we ought to knock over seven more this Saturday afternoon."
"Say, if only we were up in that old Dismal Swamp where I got lost last year, I bet you we could fill a bushel basket with big bullfrog saddles," remarked the third boy, whose lower limbs were a little inclined to grow in the shape of bows and who had on that account always gone by the significant name of "Bandy-legs" Griffin among his comrades.
"Well, the less you have to say about that time the better," remarked the fourth of the squad, a bright-faced young chap who was looked upon as a born leader, no matter whether on the field of sport as known to the boys of Carson, or in camp, and whose name was Max Hastings; "because you gave us a pretty bad scare the time we had to rush up there and hunt that swamp through to find you. Back up, Steve; easy now, I tell you!"
"Do you see the fourteenth victim crouching in the shallow water, or squatting up on the bank?" whispered the boy who just then held the little Flobert rifle, with which the so-called "game" was being bagged.
"Yes, and he must be the grand-daddy of the whole shooting match, he's so enormously big. Look at that log lying on the shore, just where the ice pushed it last winter. Don't you see a bunch of grass at the further end? Well, he's alongside that, and I reckon he hears us talking, for he looks wise and ready to plop into the water. Steady now, Touch-and-go Steve; make sure before you shoot."
Steve Dowdy, though warm-hearted, and a mighty good comrade, was inclined to be rather