Frank in the Woods by Harry Castlemon
Frank in the Woods by Harry Castlemon
The Encampment.
OUR scene opens in the swamp that stretches away for miles north of Lawrence.
It was a cold, dreary night. The wind moaned and whistled through the leafless branches of the trees, sending the snow in fitful gusts through every nook and corner of the forest. On the banks of a small lake, that lay hemmed in on all sides by tall trees, which bowed to every gust of the winter's storm, was an encampment. A rude hut-built, however, after the most approved hunter fashion, with its back to the wind, and its front open to a cheerful fire-stood in a little grove of evergreens, ready to receive beneath its friendly shelter four boys, whom you could easily recognize as our old friends of the sailing and fishing frolics described in "The Young Naturalist." We left them, after a hard day's work at fox-hunting-Archie asleep on the bed, and Frank seated in his easy chair, reading one of his favorite authors; while George and Harry, who had a quarter of a mile to go before they reached home, were walking slowly along the road, so weary that they could scarcely drag one foot after the other. To enable the reader to understand how we come to find them here in the woods, twenty miles from any human habitation, we must conduct him back to Lawrence, and relate a few incidents with which he is not acquainted.
On the day following the one on which the foxhunt took place, the boys were too lame to tramp about, and they passed most of their time in the shop. Frank commenced to prepare the fox-skin for mounting in the museum, and Archie busied himself in putting his traps in working order. While thus engaged, Frank exclaimed:
"Archie, let's go and make Uncle Joe a visit. What do you say?"
"I should like to go very much," said Archie; "but you know it's a mean journey to make in winter. I don't like the idea of carrying my baggage on"--
"We need not carry any thing," interrupted Frank. "I have been thinking it all over, and I don't see why we can't do as the Canadian trappers do-drag our baggage after us on sleds."
The village boys had always been in the habit of visiting Uncle Joe in the summer; the journey could then be made with scarcely any inconvenience, for Glen's Creek ran within a few feet of the old hunter's cabin; but in winter the traveling was much more difficult, for the boys were obliged to carry their provisions, blankets, and other needful articles, on their backs. But Frank's plan obviated this difficulty. The creek was frozen over, and using it as a highway, they could accomplish the journey to Uncle Joe's almost as easily as with a boat.
"That's a first-rate idea," said Archie. "I wonder why we did not think of it before! Let us go right to work and make the sled."
"We had better wait until we find out whether mother will let us go or not," said Frank; "besides, we want Harry and George to go with us."
"I think Aunt Mary will give her consent," said Archie, laying aside his traps. "Let's go in and ask her."
The boys readily answered all Mrs. Nelson's objections-such as being lost in the woods and eaten up by bears-by assuring her that they were well acquainted with the road to Uncle Joe's, for they had traveled it several times before; besides, they had a compass, and it was impossible to get lost; and, as to the bears, there were very few of them in the woods, and no bear that ever lived was a match for four boys, all good marksmen, armed with double-barrel shot-guns, and assisted by three good dogs. So Mrs. Nelson was obliged to consent, and the boys started off to see George and Harry. The latter easily obtained their parents' permission, and the boys adjourned to the kitchen to talk over their plans. It was decided that two sleds would carry all their baggage, and that every thing should be ready for the start early on Monday morning; it was then Friday. After making all their arrangements, Frank and his cousin returned home, and immediately commenced working on their sled. A stout hickory sapling, which they had used in stretching and curing the skin of the deer they killed in the lake, was sawed in twain for the runners, and bent into shape by steaming. The braces were then put in, and before dark the body of the sled was completed. It was light and very strong, and Archie dragged it about the shop in high glee.
"It's all done but the box," said he.
"We don't want any box," said his cousin. "It would only make the sled heavy, without doing any good. We will get an old quilt or blanket from mother, and that will do better than a box."
This article was soon obtained, and fastened to the sled in such a manner that it could be strapped around the baggage; and just as Hannah called them to supper, the sled was pronounced ready for the journey.
The next day Hannah was kept busy baking biscuit and other provisions sufficient to last until they reached Uncle Joe's; while the boys busied themselves in cleaning their guns, sharpening their knives and axes, and getting every thing ready for the start.
Time seemed to move on laggard wings, so impatient were they to be off; but Monday morning came at length, and the boys were stirring long before daylight. As soon as they had eaten breakfast, the sled was brought out of the shop, and their baggage-which consisted of a change of clothes, blankets, ammunition, axes, and provisions-was strapped on securely. Just as they completed their preparations, George and Harry came along. Bidding Mrs. Nelson and Julia good-by, they all started off; and, after a hard day's tramp, encamped at the place where we now find them.
After they had finished carrying their baggage into the hut, a lively scene was presented. Harry sat before the fire, cutting a pair of leggins out of a finely-dressed deer-skin, which he had spread on the floor of the hut; George was engaged in arranging their beds; Archie was in front of the hut, chopping the evening's supply of fire-wood; and Frank was superintending the cooking of their supper. The dogs lay stretched out on a blanket, enjoying a quiet nap.
"There," said Archie, at length, leaning on his ax, and surveying the pile of wood he had cut; "I guess that will last us through the night."
"Yes, that's a plenty," said Frank. "Come, boys, supper is ready!"
Archie accordingly entered the hut, and, after depositing his ax in a corner, picked out a warm place by the fire, and commenced helping himself to the eatables. The meal consisted of squirrels, which had been roasted on spits before the fire, coffee, and bread and butter. Their long tramp-they had made about twenty miles since morning-had sharpened their appetites, and the supper rapidly disappeared. But there was enough left for the dogs, and after they had been bountifully fed, and the supper dishes washed, the boys stretched themselves out on their blankets before the fire. Each seemed to be occupied with his own thoughts. The sifting of the snow over the roof of the hut, the crackling of the fire, and an occasional howl of a wolf, were the only sounds that broke the stillness. At length, Harry said:
"Now, boys, this is the kind of a life I enjoy. Doesn't it make a fellow feel comfortable, to lie here and listen to the storm, and know that he is securely sheltered? For my part, I don't see how a person can live cooped up in a city all his life."
"It is a difficult matter," answered Archie; "for I have tried it, and profess to know something about it. How many times I have sat in school, when I had a hard lesson to get, and looked out of the window, and wished that I was off in the woods somewhere!"
"Well, you're here at last," said George; "but the only way to pass a long winter evening is in listening to a good story. Come, Frank, give us one."
"Yes," chimed in Harry, "give us something exciting."
"A hunting adventure," said Archie, "or a fight with the Indians."
"O, you will hear plenty of such stories when we get to Uncle Joe's," said Frank. "But I will tell you of an adventure which happened to my uncle, who was a young lawyer at the time, settled in St. Louis;" and Frank, after rearranging his blanket commenced as follows:
Excerpt from True to His Colors Rodney Gray, I am ashamed of you; and if you were not my cousin, I should be tempted to thrash you within an inch of your life." "Never mind the relationship. After listening to the sentiments you have been preaching in this academy for the last three months, I am more ashamed of it than you can possibly be. You're a Yankee at heart, and a traitor to your State. Let go those halliards!" "I'll not do it. Look here, Rodney. Your ancestors and mine have fought under this flag ever since it has been a flag, and, if I can help it, you shall not be the first of our name to haul it down. Let go yourself, and stand back, or I will throw you over the parapet." "But that flag doesn't belong up there any longer, and I say, and we all say, that it shall not stay. Here's our banner; and if there's a war coming, as some of you seem to think, it will lead us to victory on every battle-field.
Known as one of the most acclaimed authors of golden-era action-adventure novels, Harry Castlemon penned dozens of novels and stories that have delighted many generations of readers. The gripping tale The First Capture focuses on a series of pivotal battles in the Revolutionary War and the brave men who helped turn the tide against the British forces.
This volume from Castlemon's popular War series for younger audiences follows the ongoing saga of the Gray family, which has been torn apart due to divided loyalties during the Civil War. This novel focuses on Marcy Gray, a boat pilot whose nautical skills are in high demand but whose Union sympathies must remain concealed to ensure the safety of himself and his loved ones.
The juvenile action-adventure novels by Harry Castlemon (pen name of Charles Austin Fosdick) skyrocketed to remarkable levels of popularity in the late nineteenth century in the U.S. Frank, the Young Naturalist, one of the first books in the series, introduces the likable protagonist, Frank Nelson, as he embarks on an adventure in the great outdoors.
Emma had agreed to pretend to be her boss's girlfriend at an event where his ex-wife planned to show up with the guy she had cheated with. "We'll see how this turns out."
"You need a bride, I need a groom. Why don't we get married?" Both abandoned at the altar, Elyse decided to tie the knot with the disabled stranger from the venue next door. Pitying his state, she vowed to spoil him once they were married. Little did she know that he was actually a powerful tycoon. Jayden thought Elyse only married him for his money, and planned to divorce her when she was no longer of use to him. But after becoming her husband, he was faced with a new dilemma. "She keeps asking for a divorce, but I don't want that! What should I do?"
I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.
Narine never expected to survive. Not after what was done to her body, mind, and soul. But fate had other plans. Rescued by Supreme Alpha Sargis, the kingdom's most feared ruler, she finds herself under the protection of a man she doesn't know... and a bond she doesn't understand. Sargis is no stranger to sacrifice. Ruthless, ambitious, and loyal to the sacred matebond, he's spent years searching for the soul fate promised him, never imagining she would come to him broken, on the brink of death, and afraid of her own shadow. He never meant to fall for her... but he does. Hard and fast. And he'll burn the world before letting anyone hurt her again. What begins in silence between two fractured souls slowly grows into something intimate and real. But healing is never linear. With the court whispering, the past clawing at their heels, and the future hanging by a thread, their bond is tested again and again. Because falling in love is one thing. Surviving it? That's a war of its own. Narine must decide, can she survive being loved by a man who burns like fire, when all she's ever known is how not to feel? Will she shrink for the sake of peace, or rise as Queen for the sake of his soul? For readers who believe even the most fractured souls can be whole again, and that true love doesn't save you. It stands beside you while you save yourself.
The whispers said that out of bitter jealousy, Hadley shoved Eric's beloved down the stairs, robbing the unborn child of life. To avenge, Eric forced Hadley abroad and completely cut her off. Years later, she reemerged, and they felt like strangers. When they met again, she was the nightclub's star, with men ready to pay fortunes just to glimpse her elusive performance. Unable to contain himself, Eric blocked her path, asking, "Is this truly how you earn a living now? Why not come back to me?" Hadley's lips curved faintly. "If you’re eager to see me, you’d better join the queue, darling."
I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria. But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity. A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love. My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me. Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego. He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press. He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan. He had no idea she was a fraud. He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her. He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate. At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her. I didn't beg. I didn't cry. I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play.
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