THE TREASURE MAP

At the doorway of Old Stony’s cabin, Mr. Livingston and the Scouts halted. Inside, crouching on the floor, a man was riffling through a box of papers, evidently pulled from beneath the bed. It was Jarrett Walz. Mr. Livingston coughed. At once the motel owner whirled around. Caught by surprise, he lost his balance and collapsed awkwardly on the floor. “Oh, back already?” he asked. “We didn’t expect to find…

TROUBLE IN CAMP

Cold night air seeped through the tent walls. Jack Hartwell stirred restlessly in his sleeping bag and sat up. What had awakened him? Beside him, Ken and Willie were dead to the world. All was quiet. Annoyed at himself, Jack got up and opened the tent flap. A few stars were winking, but otherwise it was a dark night. It might be two A.M. or thereabouts, he judged. There was…

OLD STONY

The road wound through spike pines which stood silhouetted in the fading daylight. Long, empty miles lay behind the weary travelers since they had left Philmont Boy Scout Ranch in the New Mexico Rockies. More miles stretched endlessly ahead. “Hey, when do we stop for grub? This air sure gives a guy a whale of an appetite!” “War” Washburn, a skinny, freckled youngster, rode with feet dangling out the car…

“I haven’t got education enough to be your companion

Felise Herbert was pronounced by the most competent physicians a dangerous and incurable maniac. She was accordingly removed to an insane asylum for life. Mrs. Arnold escaped all suspicion of complicity in her daughter’s crimes, and was suffered to go free from the terrors of the law. But she had no object in life now. The destruction of her idol had torn down the fair citadel of hope and plunged…

They corroborated her testimony and left no flaw in the evidence

“Prisoner at the bar, have you anything to say why the sentence of death shall not be pronounced against you?” The solemn words of the judge echo through the crowded court-room, and the sea of human faces turn curiously and with one accord towards the spot where the prisoner sits with his friend, the handsome German artist, by his side, where he has remained throughout the trial. The case has…

She looked at the lonely mansion

February winds blew coldly over the sea at Cape May, the day was bleak and sunless, a misty, drizzling rain fell slowly but continuously, chilling the very marrow of one’s bones. No one who could have helped it would have cared to venture out in such dreary, uncomfortable, depressing weather. But up and down the beach, before the closed mansion of Sea View, walked a weird, strange figure, bareheaded in…

So there’s the whole story in a nutshell

Full of vague alarm, blent with a little trembling hope of she knew not what, Bonnibel ran to the window, which was fortunately not fastened down, pushed up the sash and peered down into the night. The moon had not fully risen yet, and there was but a faint light in the clear sky, but down in the dark shrubbery below she fancied she could see a human form and…

Some of the banks in which his wealth is invested have failed

Colonel Carlyle had not quitted the room an hour before Bonnibel’s maid, Dolores, came into her presence, bearing a sealed letter upon a salver. “_Une lettre_ from monsieur le colonel, for Madam Carlyle,” she said, in her curious _melange_ of French and English. Bonnibel took the letter, and Dolores retreated to a little distance and stood awaiting her pleasure. “What can he have to write to me of?” she thought,…

A long and elegant saloon in a beautiful palace in Italy

“Words fail me, Colonel Carlyle, when I try to express my burning sense of your injustice in this high-handed outrage! What, in this enlightened age, in this nineteenth century, do men turn palaces into prisons, and debar weak women of their liberties? Am I a slave that you have turned your keys upon me, and set hirelings and slaves to watch me? Am I a criminal? If so, where is…