The interruption to the stolid apathy that had crept over the passengers, for the dust and heat had made them drowsy, came in the form of voices raised in anger and indignant protest.
The interruption to the stolid apathy that had crept over the passengers, for the dust and heat had made them drowsy, came in the form of voices raised in anger and indignant protest.
There was a sudden stir in the forward section of the stuffy, crowded railway coach.
The interruption to the stolid apathy that had crept over the passengers, for the dust and heat had made them drowsy, came in the form of voices raised in anger and indignant protest.
The racket proceeded from a cross-seat occupied by two young fellows. One of them was a youth of about eighteen with hair of a violent ruddy hue. His seat-mate was, perhaps, a trifle older, heavy set, rather sallow, with close-cropped black hair. Both were sunburned and bore, somehow, the unmistakable look of those who follow the sea.
[Pg 6]
"See here, you, what have you got your hand in my pocket for, hey?"
Thus the red-haired lad, before whom reposed a leather suit-case bearing the name,-neatly stenciled on one end,-"H. Taylor, U.S.N."
"I've lost my wallet," came the rejoinder in angry, high-pitched tones. "It had most of my pay in it, too."
"Well, what's the matter with looking in your own pocket?" sputtered Herc Taylor indignantly.
"I did, but I can't find it."
"So you assume that I'm the thief, do you?"
This was certainly a conversation to attract attention. Both speakers appeared to be in highly belligerent moods. Several of the passengers seated in the vicinity of the excitement began to rise in their seats and crane their necks, the better to behold the "scrap" that appeared imminent.
But those nearest to the pair saw that Herc[Pg 7] Taylor's large, freckled fist had closed on the wrist of the other's investigating hand, so that, for the present at any rate, the latter was not able to attempt retaliation except verbally.
Herc was neatly but quietly dressed in a gray-mixture suit. His seat-mate, the one who had made the ugly accusation, wore clothes that appeared to have been rather neglected recently. They were crumpled and stained and the whole air of the fellow, despite his healthy-looking tan, was slouchy and shiftless.
Herc glared straight into the other's eyes for possibly the space of a minute or so. Before his direct glance the slouchy-looking youth's eyes fell.
"Aw, leggo my hand, will yer?" he muttered.
"Sure, it's no pleasure to me to hold it," rejoined Herc, relaxing his grip. Where he had held the other, a white bracelet of skin appeared, showing that Herc possessed a mighty set of muscles.
[Pg 8]
"I'd advise you to keep your hand where it belongs in the future," added Herc.
A third young fellow, who had been seated behind the quarreling pair, leaned forward. He had been reading a naval-service periodical. But now his attention was distracted, and he tapped the red-headed youth on the shoulder.
"What appears to be the trouble, Herc?"
"Oh, it's all right, Ned," rejoined the younger of the Dreadnought Boys, turning to his cousin, Ned Strong. "This fellow just suffered from a severe case of wandering hand, that's all."
A smile came over Ned Strong's clean-cut, bronzed features. His blue eyes twinkled as he directed a glance to the floor of the section in front of him.
"What's that lying on the floor right there by your feet, my friend?" he asked of Herc's seat-mate.
"Gosh! if it isn't my wallet!" exclaimed the stranger.
[Pg 9]
He stooped and picked it up, looking rather sheepish and foolish as he encountered Ned's smile.
"You see, it isn't a good plan to go up in the air before you make quite sure you won't have to come down again with a hard bump," said the Dreadnought Boy quietly, but with a good-natured intonation.
"Aw, stow that," growled the other. "I didn't do no harm."
"No, but if I hadn't been a young person of marked coolness and restraint, I might have done you some," grinned Herc.
Here the incident appeared to be terminated for the time being. Soon after, the disgruntled neighbor of Herc Taylor arose and sought a seat in another part of the car. The smiling looks of the passengers in the vicinity of the little ruction had proved too much for his sensibilities.
As he rose from his seat, he carried with him[Pg 10] his suit-case. After he was beyond ear-shot, Ned turned to Herc.
"That fellow may be one of our shipmates," he said in low tones.
"How do you make that out?"
"I saw the name 'Dilworth Rankin' and the letters 'U.S.N.' after it," was Ned's rejoinder.
"Can't say that I'm much impressed with what I've seen of young Mr. Rankin," retorted Herc, carelessly. "At any rate we are under special commissions now, so that if he gets gay or anything like that, I'll have him put in the brig in short order. I always said, after I had that little session of mine in the brig, that if I ever got a chance I'd see how it felt to slap somebody else in there; and if he gets fresh it might just as well be Rankin as anyone else."
"You'll do no such thing," retorted Ned seriously. "Just because we're holding little temporary commissions as junior officers, you can't show off your authority like that."
[Pg 11]
"Huh! what's the use of being officers, then?"
"To teach us something. To get some new ideas and experiences into that red head of yours."
"See here, now that I'm an officer, I'll thank you to refer to my locks as auburn," muttered Herc. "I'll feel like using my new sword on anybody who calls attention to the color of my sky-piece hereafter."
"All right," laughed Ned, "I'll call it any color you like. But, hullo! there's blue water. We must be getting near to Miller's Haven. I wonder if the Seneca has arrived yet?"
"Hope so," rejoined Herc. "I want to be boss just as quickly and just as long as possible. I wish some of the old boys on the Manhattan could see us when we start out to sea. Have you opened your orders yet?"
"Not yet. As you know, they are sealed and not to be opened till we have coaled and proceeded to sea. The first thing we must do when[Pg 12] we reach Miller's Haven is to report to Ensign Summerville, at present in command of the Seneca, and hand him his orders."
"His walking papers," interpolated Herc. "I wonder if we'll get orders to join the Red fleet right off?"
"That's impossible to say," replied Ned. "As I understand it, we are to do duty as a scout cruiser, depending largely on our wireless for keeping in touch with the Red fleet and informing them of every move of the Blues."
"Then we may not be with the fleet at all?"
"Not necessarily. But I guess our work as scouts will keep us so busy that we won't notice the lack of company."
"I'd rather be back with the fleet," muttered Herc.
"I wouldn't," rejoined Ned, his eyes flashing and his cheeks flushing under the tan. "Why, Herc, boy, we've got the biggest chance of our lives! To my mind this detail to which we have[Pg 13] been assigned will prove the most interesting work we have ever tackled."
"Miller's Haven!"
The voices of the trainmen rang raucously through the car. The boys arose and made their way to the forward door. As Ned had surmised, they were indeed on the threshold of some of the most interesting experiences they had ever encountered.
The Boy Scouts at the Panama Canal by John Henry Goldfrap
In this installment of the popular Boy Aviators action-adventure series for younger readers, brothers Frank and Harry Chester are conducting field research on a remote island along with their best friend Billy and a new acquaintance, Pudge Perkins. Soon enough, the boys find themselves caught up in a mystery and a search for long-lost treasure.
In the sixth installment of the wildly popular Boy Aviators series for younger readers, the heroes are itching for adventure and decide to tag along on an expedition to Antarctica. They join the crew of famed explorer Robert Hazzard, who is on a quest to identify the South Pole—and perhaps find some long-lost treasure along the way.
In the early twentieth century, the technology of aviation advanced rapidly, and the new possibilities afforded by flight sparked the imaginations of younger readers. In The Boy Aviators in Africa, a posse of fearless young chums put their newly honed flying skills to the test in the pursuit of a store of highly valuable ivory.
They may be young, but the heroes of John Henry Goldfrap's popular Boy Aviators series for younger readers make up for what they lack in experience with plenty of grit, gusto and gumption. In this, the fourth installment of the series, the boys find themselves on quest to find a massive store of treasure in the Sargasso Sea.
The Motor Rangers Through the Sierras by John Henry Goldfrap
Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty. When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn. Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance. Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room. How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice. I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for. I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten.
The day Lilah found out that she was pregnant, she caught her fiancé cheating on her. Her remorseless fiancé and his mistress almost killed her. Lilah fled for her dear life. When she returned to her hometown five years later, she happened to save a little boy's life. The boy's father turned out to be the world's richest man. Everything changed for Lilah from that moment. The man didn't let her experience any inconvenience. When her ex-fiancé bullied her, he crushed the scumbag's family and also rented out an entire island just to give Lilah a break from all the drama. He also taught Lilah's hateful father a lesson. He crushed all her enemies before she even asked. When Lilah's vile sister threw herself at him, he showed her a marriage certificate and said, "I'm happily married and my wife is much more beautiful than you are!" Lilah was shocked. "When did we ever get married? Last I checked, I was still single." With a wicked smile, he said, "Honey, we've been married for five years. Isn't it about time we had another child together?" Lilah's jaw dropped to the floor. What the hell was he talking about?
Linsey was stood up by her groom to run off with another woman. Furious, she grabbed a random stranger and declared, "Let's get married!" She had acted on impulse, realizing too late that her new husband was the notorious rascal, Collin. The public laughed at her, and even her runaway ex offered to reconcile. But Linsey scoffed at him. "My husband and I are very much in love!" Everyone thought she was delusional. Then Collin was revealed to be the richest man in the world. In front of everyone, he got down on one knee and held up a stunning diamond ring. "I look forward to our forever, honey."
I had been a wife for exactly six hours when I woke up to the sound of my husband’s heavy breathing. In the dim moonlight of our bridal suite, I watched Hardin, the man I had adored for years, intertwined with my sister Carissa on the chaise lounge. The betrayal didn't come with an apology. Hardin stood up, unashamed, and sneered at me. "You're awake? Get out, you frumpy mute." Carissa huddled under a throw, her fake tears already welling up as she played the victim. They didn't just want me gone; they wanted me erased to protect their reputations. When I refused to move, my world collapsed. My father didn't offer a shoulder to cry on; he threatened to have me committed to a mental asylum to save his business merger. "You're a disgrace," he bellowed, while the guards stood ready to drag me away. They had spent my life treating me like a stuttering, submissive pawn, and now they were done with me. I felt a blinding pain in my skull, a fracture that should have broken me. But instead of tears, something dormant and lethal flickered to life. The terrified girl who walked down the aisle earlier that day simply ceased to exist. In her place, a clinical system—the Valkyrie Protocol—booted up. My racing heart plummeted to a steady sixty beats per minute. I didn't scream. I stood up, my spine straightening for the first time in twenty years, and looked at Hardin with the detachment of a surgeon looking at a tumor. "Correction," I said, my voice stripped of its stutter. "You're in my light." By dawn, I had drained my father's accounts, vanished into a storm, and found a bleeding Crown Prince in a hidden safehouse. They thought they had broken a mute girl. They didn't realize they had just activated their own destruction.
For three years, I was the perfect, invisible wife. My husband, Jaden, called the songs I poured my soul into "trash," then secretly fed them to his pop-star mistress to make her famous. Then one night, after being drugged at a gala, I woke up in a stranger's bed. It wasn't just the betrayal that shattered me; it was the soul-deep certainty that this powerful, dangerous man was my true fated mate. I fled home in a panic, only to find a message on Jaden's phone confirming my worst fears. His mistress, the woman singing my songs on the radio, was pregnant with the baby he'd always told me I was too weak to carry. The nightmare deepened when I learned the identity of the man from the hotel. He was Carter Mcclain, the ruthless Alpha King-and my husband's older brother. He looked at me with eyes that knew my secret, his cruel smirk promising that my life was now a game for his amusement. Jaden had stolen my music, my dream of a family, and my future, leaving me trapped between his betrayal and his terrifying brother. He thought he had broken me, leaving me with nothing. He forgot he left me with the rage that wrote the songs. And I was about to write their final, brutal verse.
I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector. That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world. The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor. The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist. Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch—a titan of industry and my best friend’s father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared. "Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb. Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen. "Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back." I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe.
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