Randy Of The River (Illustrated) E-Book

Horatio Alger

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

"I am going fishing, Randy. Do you want to go along?" "With pleasure, Jack," answered Randy Thompson, a bright, manly youth of fourteen. "Are you going on foot or in your boat?" "I think we might as well take the boat," returned Jack Bartlett, a boy who was but a few months older than Randy. "Have you your lines handy?" "No, but I can get them in less than ten minutes." "All right. Meet me at the dock in quarter of an hour. I was thinking of going up the river to Landy's Hole. That's a good spot, isn't it?" "I think so. Last season I was up there and caught fourteen good-sized fish." "They tell me you are one of the best fishermen in Riverport, Randy," went on Jack Bartlett, admiringly. "What is the secret of your success?" "I don't know unless it is patience," answered Randy, with a broad smile. "To catch fish you must be patient. Now when I caught my mess of fourteen two other boys were up to the Hole. But just because the fish did not bite right away they moved away, further up the river. But by doing that they got only about half as many as myself." "Well, I am willing to be patient if I know I am going to catch something." At this Randy laughed outright. "You can't be sure of anything-in fishing. But I always reckon it's a good thing to hold on and give a thing a fair trial." "I reckon you're right, Randy, and I'll give the fishing a fair trial to-day," answered Jack Bartlett. "Remember, the dock in quarter of an hour," he added, as he moved away. Horatio Alger, Jr. (January 13, 1832 – July 18, 1899) was a prolific 19th-century American author, best known for his many juvenile novels about impoverished boys and their rise from humble backgrounds to lives of middle-class security and comfort through hard work, determination, courage, and honesty. His writings were characterized by the "rags-to-riches" narrative, which had a formative effect on America during the Gilded Age. Alger's name is often invoked incorrectly as though he himself rose from rags to riches, but that arc applied to his characters, not to the author. Essentially, all of Alger's novels share the same theme: a young boy struggles through hard work to escape poverty. Critics, however, are quick to point out that it is not the hard work itself that rescues the boy from his fate, but rather some extraordinary act of bravery or honesty, which brings him into contact with a wealthy elder gentleman, who takes the boy in as a ward. The boy might return a large sum of money that was lost or rescue someone from an overturned carriage, bringing the boy—and his plight—to the attention of some wealthy individual. It has been suggested that this reflects Alger's own patronizing attitude to the boys he tried to help.

Leseprobe

Horatio Alger

Randy Of The River (Illustrated)

BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

PREFACE

The majority of stories for boys have their background laid either in the city or the country, or possibly on the ocean, and we have read much about the doings of lads both rich and poor in such locations.

In the present tale we have a youth of sturdy qualities who elects to follow the calling of a deckhand on a Hudson River steamboat, doing his duty faithfully day by day, and trying to help others as well as himself. Like all other boys he is at times tempted to do wrong, but he has a heart of gold even though it is hidden by a somewhat ragged outer garment, and in the end proves the truth of that old saying that it pays to be honest,--not only in regard to others but also regarding one's self.

Life on a river steamboat is not so romantic as some young people may imagine. There is hard work and plenty of it, and the remuneration is not of the best. But Randy Thompson wanted work and took what was offered. His success in the end was well deserved, and perhaps the lesson his doings teach will not be lost upon those who peruse these pages. It is better to do what one finds to do than to fold your hands and remain idle, and the idle boy is sure, sooner or later, to get into serious mischief.

CHAPTER I SOMETHING ABOUT RANDY

“I am going fishing, Randy. Do you want to go along?”

"With pleasure, Jack," answered Randy Thompson, a bright, manly youth of fourteen. "Are you going on foot or in your boat?”

“I think we might as well take the boat," returned Jack Bartlett, a boy who was but a few months older than Randy. "Have you your lines handy?”

"No, but I can get them in less than ten minutes.”

"All right. Meet me at the dock in quarter of an hour. I was thinking of going up the river to Landy's Hole. That's a good spot, isn't it?”

"I think so. Last season I was up there and caught fourteen good-sized fish.”

"They tell me you are one of the best fishermen in Riverport, Randy,”

went on Jack Bartlett, admiringly. "What is the secret of your success?”

“I don't know unless it is patience," answered Randy, with a broad smile. "To catch fish you must be patient. Now when I caught my mess of fourteen two other boys were up to the Hole. But just because the fish did not bite right away they moved away, further up the river. But by doing that they got only about half as many as myself.”

"Well, I am willing to be patient if I know I am going to catch something.”

At this Randy laughed outright.

"You can't be sure of anything--in fishing. But I always reckon it's a good thing to hold on and give a thing a fair trial.”

"I reckon you're right, Randy, and I'll give the fishing a fair trial to-day," answered Jack Bartlett. "Remember, the dock in quarter of an hour," he added, as he moved away.

"I'll be on hand--unless mother wants me to do something for her before I go away," returned Randy.

Randy, or rather Randolph, Thompson, to use his right name, was the only son of Louis Thompson, a carpenter of Riverport, a thriving town in one of our eastern states. Randy had no brothers or sisters, and lived with his father and mother in a modest cottage on one of the side roads leading to the hills back of the town. Randy was a scholar in the local school, standing close to the head of his class. It was now summer time and the institution of learning was closed, so the boy had most of his time to himself.

He had wanted to go to work, to help his father, who had some heavy doctors' bills to pay, but his parents had told him to take at least two weeks' vacation before looking for employment.

"He needs it," Mrs. Thompson had said to her husband. "He has applied himself very closely to his studies ever since last fall.”

"Well, let him take the vacation and welcome," answered Louis Thompson.

"I know when I was a boy I loved a vacation." He was a kind-hearted man and thought a good deal of his offspring and also of his wife, who was devoted to him.

The cottage stood back in the center of a well-kept garden, where Mrs.

Thompson had spent much time over her flowers, of which she was passionately fond. It was a two-story affair, containing but five rooms, yet it was large enough for the family, and Randy, who had never known anything better, considered it a very good home. There was a small white fence in front, with a gate, and the path to the front stoop was lined with geraniums. Over the porch was trained a honeysuckle which filled the air with its delicate fragrance.

“Mother, I'm going fishing with Jack Bartlett!" cried Randy, running around to the kitchen, where his mother was busy finishing up the week's ironing.

"Very well, Randy," she answered, setting down her flatiron and giving him a smile. "I suppose you won't be back until supper time.”

"It's not likely. Can I do anything for you before I go?”

"You might get a bucket of water and another armful of wood.”

"I'll do that," answered Randy, and caught up the water bucket.

"Anything else?”

"No. Take care of yourself while you are on the river.”

"Don't worry about me, mother. Remember, I can swim like a fish.”

"Yes, I know. But you must be careful anyway," answered Mrs. Thompson, fondly.

The water and wood were quickly brought into the cottage, Randy whistling merrily while he performed these chores. Then the youth ran for his fishing outfit, after which he took the spade, went down to the end of the garden, and turned up some worms, which he placed in a pasteboard box.

"Now I am off, mother!" he called out.

"Good-by, Randy," she said, and waved him a pleasant adieu from the open kitchen window.

"She's the best mother a boy ever had," thought Randy, as he walked away to join Jack at the dock.

"What a good boy!" murmured Mrs. Thompson. "Oh, I hope he grows up to be a good man!”

When Randy arrived at the dock he found himself alone. He brought out the boat and cleaned it up and got the oars. He was all ready for the start when a boy somewhat older than himself slouched up.

The newcomer was loudly dressed in a checked suit and wore a heavy watchchain, a big seal ring, and a diamond shirt stud. He might have been good-looking had it not been for the supercilious scowl of independence upon his face.

"Hullo there, Randy Thompson!" he called out. "What are you doing in Jack Bartlett's boat?”

His manner was decidedly offensive and did not suit Randy at all.

"I don't know as that is any of your business, Bob Bangs," he answered coldly.

"Humph! Jack won't thank you for getting out his boat," went on Bob Bangs. "If you want a boat why don't you hire one?”

"I don't have to hire one," answered Randy.

"You wouldn't dare to touch my boat," continued Bob, who was known as the town bully. His father was rich and for that reason he thought he could ride over all the other boys.

"I shouldn't care to touch it," said Randy.

"Don't you know you haven't any right to touch Jack's boat without his permission?" went on the big youth.

"Bob Bangs, this is none of your business.”

"Humph! I'll make it my business.”

"If you do, you may get into trouble.”

“I'll risk that. If you don't get out of that boat I'll tell Jack.”

"I am not going to get out of the boat.”

"Maybe I'll make you get out," and Bob Bangs came a step closer, and put his hand on the gunwale of the rowboat.

"You leave me and the boat alone," said Randy, sharply.

"You get out of that boat.”

"Not for you.”

Bob Bangs looked ugly. He was on the point of catching Randy by the collar when an interruption came from behind.

"So you got here ahead of me, eh?" came in Jack's voice, as he approached on a swift walk. "I had to do an errand for father and that kept me.”

As Jack came up Bob Bangs fell back in disgust.

"Humph! Why didn't you say you were waiting for Jack?" he said to Randy, with a sour look on his face.

"You didn't ask me, that's why," returned Randy.

"What's the trouble?" questioned Jack, quickly.

"Bob wanted me to leave the boat alone.”

"I thought he was trying to sneak it on the sly," explained the big boy. "I didn't know you cared to go out with him," he added, to Jack, with a toss of his head.

"Why shouldn't I go out with Randy?" asked Jack, quickly.

"Oh, I shouldn't care to go out with the son of a poor carpenter.”

"See here, Bob Bangs, I consider myself as good as you," said Randy, quickly.

"Humph!”

"Randy is all right, even if his father is a carpenter," said Jack.

"It's mean of you, Bob, to talk that way.”

"Choose your own company and I'll choose mine," answered Bob Bangs, loftily, and stalked away, his nose tilted high in the air.

Angry words arose to Randy's lips but he repressed them and said nothing. In a moment more some goods on the dock hid the big boy from view.

"Don't you care for what he says," said Jack, quickly. "He thinks a few dollars are everything in this world.”

"I didn't mind him--much, Jack.”

"Wanted you to get out of my boat, didn't he?”

"Yes. He didn't know I was waiting for you.”

"That was a good joke on him.”

"I can't understand why he is so disagreeable.”

"It was born in him," said Jack, as he leaped into the rowboat and stowed away his fishing outfit. "His father is the same way and so is his mother. They think that just because they have money everybody else, especially a poor person, is dirt under their feet.”

"Why, Jack, I guess your father is as rich as Mr. Bangs.”

"Maybe he is.”

"And you don't put on such airs.”

"And I don't intend to. Money is a good thing to have, but it isn't everything--that is what my father and mother say.”

"Bob wouldn't want me out in his boat with him.”

"Maybe you wouldn't like to go out with him either.”

"You are right there. I am getting so I hate to speak to him.”

"Well, I am getting that way, too. Every time we meet he tries to impress it upon me that he is a superior person,--and I don't see it.”

"Your father and his father have some business dealings, haven't they?”

"Yes, they are interested in the same iron company,--and from what father says, I think they are going to have trouble before long.”

"I hope your father comes out ahead.”

"It is this way: Father has a controlling interest and Mr. Bangs is doing his best to get it away from him. If Mr. Bangs can get control he will, so father says, join the company of a larger concern, and then father will be about wiped out and he won't get more than half of what is really coming to him.”

"But wouldn't that be fraud?”

"Yes, morally, but not legally--so father says," answered Jack, and heaved a sigh. "I hope it all comes out right.”

"And so do I--for your sake as well as for your folks," added Randy, heartily.

CHAPTER II AT THE FISHING HOLE

The fishing hole for which the two boys were bound was on the river about a mile and a half above the town. At this point the stream was thirty to forty feet wide and ten to fifteen feet deep. It was lined on one side with sharp rocks and on the other by thick trees and bushes.

At the foot of some of the rocks, where the river made a bend, there was a deep hole, and this some of the lads, including Randy and Jack, considered an ideal place for fishing.

The boys did not row directly for the hole, being afraid they might scare the fish away. Instead they landed below the spot, tied fast to a tree root between the stones, and then crawled over the big rocks until they reached a point from which they could cast into the hole with ease.

They soon baited up. Randy was ready first, but he gave his companion the chance to make the initial cast. Scarcely had Jack's hook touched the water when there came a jerk and the line was almost pulled from the boy's hands.

"You've got him!" cried Randy, excitedly. "Good for you!”

"If I don't lose him before I get him on the rocks!" answered Jack. But his fears were groundless, for a few seconds later the catch lay at his feet--a fish weighing at least a pound and a half.

"That's the way to do it," said Randy.

"You might have had him--if you had cast in first," answered his companion, modestly.

“I'll try my luck now," and Randy cast in without delay. Then Jack also tried it again, and both boys began to fish in earnest. Soon Randy got a bite and brought in a fish weighing as much as the first catch.

"Now we are even," said Jack.

In an hour Randy had four good-sized fish to his credit and Jack had an equal number. Then Jack's luck fell away and Randy got three more while his companion got nothing.

"There is no use of talking, you are a better fisherman than I," said Jack.

"I think you drop down too deep," answered Randy. "Try it this way,”

and he showed his friend what he meant.

After that Jack's success was a trifle better, but still Randy kept ahead of him.

When the boys had caught twenty fish between them they decided to give up the sport. Randy knew where they could find some blackberries, and leaving their fish in a hole among the rocks, where there was a small pool of water, they tramped away from the river to where the blackberry bushes were located.

"These are fine," said Jack, eating a handful with a relish. "Randy, we ought to come berrying here some day.”

"I am willing.”

"These berries would make the nicest kind of pies.”

"Yes, indeed! And if there is anything I love it is a good, juicy blackberry pie.”

"If we had a kettle we might take some home with us now.”

"I am afraid it is too late. What time is it?”

Jack carried a neat silver watch which he consulted.

"Why, it's half-past five already! I thought it might be four. Yes, we'll have to get back.”

"Let us go down to the boat first and then row up and get the fish.”

This suited the two boys, and soon they were making their way back over the rocks to where Jack's craft had been left. As they came out from among the trees and bushes they saw another boat on the river, headed for Riverport.

"There is Bob Bangs again!" exclaimed Randy.

"Hullo!" yelled Jack. "Have you been fishing, too?”

"Yes," answered the big boy, and continued to row down the river.

"Have any luck?" went on Jack.

"Fine," was the short answer, and then Bob Bangs' craft drew out of hearing.

"He was in a tremendous hurry," mused Jack.

"Perhaps he didn't want us to see what he had caught," answered Randy.

"That's likely it, Randy. I don't believe he knows as much about fishing as I do--and that is little enough.”

Having secured the rowboat, Randy and Jack rowed up to the fishing hole, and Randy scrambled up the rocks to secure their two strings of fish. He soon reached the shallow pool among the rocks in which they had been placed and drew up the two strings.

"Well, I declare!" he ejaculated, as he looked the fish over. Then he counted them carefully. "What can this mean?”

His string had held twelve fish and Jack's eight fish. Now three of the largest fish from each string were gone. He looked around with care, but could see nothing of the missing fish.

"Hullo! What's keeping you?" shouted Jack, from the boat.

"Come up here!" called back Randy.

"Anything wrong?”

"Yes.”

"Landy! I hope the fish aren't gone!" burst out Jack, as he scrambled up the rocks and ran to where Randy was continuing the search.

The situation was soon explained and both boys hunted around in the neighborhood of the pool, thinking the fish might have gotten away in some manner. Then of a sudden Jack uttered a cry:

“Look at this, Randy!”

"What is it?”

"A key ring, with two keys on it.”

"Where did you find it?”

"Here, right beside the pool.”

"Then somebody has been here and taken our fish!”

"Exactly what I believe.”

Jack began to examine the key ring and then he uttered another exclamation:

“Here are some initials on the ring.”

"What are they?”

"I can't make out very well--they are so worn. I think the first is R.”

"Let me see.”

Jack passed the find over and Randy examined it.

"I can make it out," said Randy. "R. A. B.”

"Robert A. Bangs!" shouted Jack.

"Bob Bangs!" murmured Randy. "Could he have been mean enough to come here and take some of our fish?”

"It certainly looks that way.”

"Let us go after him and find out.”

"All right. Anyway, we can make him explain how his key ring got here.”

Taking what was left of the fish, the two boys hurried back to the rowboat and soon each was seated at an oar and pulling a good stroke in the direction of the town.

"He must have been watching us fish," observed Jack. "And he must have seen us place our catch in the pool.”

"And took our best fish because he couldn't catch any of his own,”

concluded Randy. "Well, if he has my fish he has got to give them up,”

he added, with determination.

Rowing at a good rate of speed, it did not take the boys long to reach the town. As they moved past one dock after another they looked for Bob Bangs, but the big youth was nowhere in sight.

“I reckon he was afraid of being followed," said Jack.

"There is his boat," answered Randy, and pointed to the craft, which was tied up near an old boathouse and not at the regular Bangs dock.

While the two boys rested on their oars an old man who was lame, and who rented out boats for a living, came from the old boathouse. "Hullo, Isaac!" called out Jack. "Have you seen Bob Bangs around here?”

"Why, yes; he just went ashore," answered Isaac Martin.

"Did he have any fish?”

"Yes, a nice string--some pretty big ones, too.”

"How many?”

"Seven or eight.”

"Which way did he go?”

"Up Samson Street.”

"That's the back way to his house," cried Randy. "Come on!”

"What shall we do with our fish and the boat?”

"Let Isaac take care of them.”

"Want me to take care of things, eh?" said the lame boatman. "Very well, I'll do it.”

The two boys were soon on the way, on a run. They knew about the route Bob Bangs would take to get home and came in sight of the big boy just as he was entering his father's garden by a rear gate.

"Stop, Bob!" called out Randy.

The big boy looked around hastily and was much chagrined to see the others so close at hand. He held his string of fish behind him.

"What do you want?" he demanded, as they came closer.

"You know well enough what we want," returned Jack. "We want our fish.”

"Your fish? Who has got your fish?" blustered Bob.

"You've got them," retorted Randy, and made a snatch at the string. The big boy held fast and a regular tug of war ensued.

"Let go!”

"I won't!”

"You shall!”

"See here, Bob," interposed Jack. "It won't do you any good to hang on.

Those are our fish and we want them.”

"Bah! How do you know they are your fish?”

"Because you took them from the pool in which we placed them.”

"I did not.”

"You did.”

"You can't prove it.”

"Yes, we can.”

"How?”

"By this," said Jack, triumphantly, and exhibited the key ring and keys.

CHAPTER III EXPOSING BOB BANGS

When Bob Bangs saw the key ring his face changed color.

"Where did you get that?" he demanded.

"Got it where you dropped it--at the pool where we left our fish.”

"How do you know it is mine?”

"By the initials on it.”

"Humph!”

"If you don't want the key ring we'll keep it," put in Randy, quickly.

"No, you won't keep it. Give it to me.”

"Then give us our fish," said Randy, quietly but firmly.

"They are not all your fish. I caught two of them.”

"The two smallest, I suppose.”

"No, the two largest.”

"We lost six big fish and these belong to us," said Randy, and took the best fish from the string. "Bob Bangs, it was a contemptible thing to do," he added, with spirit. "I wouldn't do such a dirty thing for a thousand dollars.”

"Bah! Don't talk to me, unless you want to get hurt," growled the large youth, savagely.

"I am not afraid of you, even if you are bigger than I am," said Randy, undaunted by the fighting attitude the bully had assumed.

"It certainly was a mean piece of business," came from Jack. "If you wanted some fish why didn't you ask us for them?”

"Humph! I can buy my fish if I want to.”

"Then why did you take ours?" demanded Randy.

"I--er--I didn't know they belonged to you. I just saw the strings in the pool and took a few," answered the boy, lamely. "Give me my key ring.”

The ring with the keys was passed over, and Randy and Jack restrung their fish. In the meantime Bob Bangs entered his father's garden, slamming the gate after him.

"You just wait--I'll get square with you!" he shouted back, and shook his fist at Randy.

"You be careful, or you'll get into trouble!" shouted back Randy, and then he and Jack walked away with their fish.

"What's the matter, Master Robert?" asked the man-of-all-work around the Bangs place, as he approached Bob from the barn.

"Oh, some fellows are getting fresh," grumbled the big youth. "But I'll fix them for it!”

"I see they took some of your fish.”

"We had a dispute about the fish. Rather than take them from such a poor chap as Randy Thompson I let him keep them," said Bob, glibly.

"But I am going to get square with him for his impudence," he added.

After a long hard row and fishing for over an hour, Bob Bangs had caught only two small fish and he was thoroughly disgusted with everything and everybody. He walked into the kitchen and threw the fish on the sink board.

"There, Mamie, you can clean those and fry them for my supper," he said to the servant girl.

"Oh, land sakes, Master Bob, they are very small," cried the girl.

"They won't go around nohow!”

"I said you could fry them for my supper," answered Bob, coldly.

"They are hardly worth bothering with," murmured the servant girl, but the boy did not hear her, for he had passed to the next room. He went upstairs and washed up and then walked into the sitting room, where his mother reclined on a sofa, reading the latest novel of society life.

"Where is father?" he asked, abruptly.

"I do not know, Robert," answered Mrs. Bangs, without looking up from her book.

"Will he be home to supper?”

To this there was no reply.

"I say, will he be home to supper?" and the boy shoved the book aside.

"Robert, don't be rude!" cried Mrs. Bangs, in irritation. "I presume he will be home," and she resumed her novel reading.

"I want some money.”

To this there was no reply. Mrs. Bangs was on the last chapter of the novel and wanted to finish it before supper was served. She did little in life but read novels, dress, and attend parties, and she took but small interest in Bob and his doings.

"I say, I want some money," repeated the boy, in a louder key.

"Robert, will you be still? Every time I try to read you come and interrupt me.”

"And you never want to listen to me. You read all the time.”

"No, I do not--I really read very little, I have so many things to attend to. What did you say you wanted?”

"I want some money. I haven't had a cent this week.”

"Then you must ask your father. I haven't anything to give you," and again Mrs. Bangs turned to her book.

"Can't you give me a dollar?”