The Hilltop Boys on the River by Cyril Burleigh
The Hilltop Boys on the River by Cyril Burleigh
"If you are going with the boys on the river, Jack, you will have to get a motor-boat. Won't you let me buy you one?"
"No, not a bit of it, Dick."
"But you want one?"
"Certainly, and I am going to have one."
"But motor-boats cost money, Jack. Why, mine cost me---"
"Never mind what it cost, Dick. You spend a lot more money than
I can afford to spend, and you have a gilt-edged affair, of course.
I want a boat to use as well as to look at."
"But you want a serviceable boat, Jack?"
"I am going to have it, and it will not cost me anything like what your boat cost. Just let me look around a bit, Dick."
"All right, I'll let you do all the looking you want, but I'd like to buy you a boat just the same."
"No doubt you would, and so would Jesse W. and Harry and Arthur and a dozen other boys, but I am going to get one myself, and it will not cost me much either, and will give me all the service I want. We don't go into camp under a week, and that will give me all the time I want to build--"
"You are not going to build you a motor-boat, are you, Jack Sheldon?" asked Dick Percival in the greatest surprise.
"Well, not altogether build it, Dick. Put it together, I may say. I did not mean to let the cat out of the bag, but now that she is out you need not scare her all over the neighborhood so that everybody will know that she is out. Let Pussy stay hidden for a time yet."
"Yes, but Jack, how are you going to---"
"No, no, Dick," laughed Jack, "you have seen the cat's whiskers, but you haven't seen her tail yet, and you won't until I get ready. I have told you more now than I meant to, and you must be satisfied with that. I'll have the boat, don't you be afraid."
The two boys were two of what were called the Hilltop boys, being students at an Academy situated in the highlands of the Hudson on top of a hill about five miles back from the river, as the crow flies, but considerably more than that by the road.
Jack Sheldon was a universal favorite in the school, and although he had been obliged to work to pay for his schooling at the start he was not thought any the less of on that account.
Two or three strokes of fortune had given him sufficient money to more than pay for his education, and to provide his widowed mother with many extra comforts in addition, so that now he could give his time to study and not be distracted by work.
He had long known the value of money, having learned it by experience, and he was now averse to spending more than was necessary on things that gave pleasure rather more than profit.
He would not let Dick Percival, who was the son of rich parents, and had more money to spend than was really good for him, buy him a motor-boat, nor would he spend too much money on one himself when he would use it only for the smallest part of the year.
The school term was over, but Dr. Theopilus Wise, the principal of the Academy, had arranged to continue it for a portion of the summer, not in the Academy, but in a camp on the river where the boys would have plenty of open air, exercise, relaxation, and all the fun they wanted, besides doing a certain amount of school work to keep them from getting rusty as they expressed it.
The summer school was to begin its session in a short time, and, meanwhile, Jack remained at the Academy instead of going home, some distance away in another county, giving his attention to certain matters in which he was interested.
He had done work for the editor of a weekly paper of a town on the river, the nearest large town to the Academy and was well known in the place besides, having many acquaintances there among business people.
Being fond of the water, and knowing that many of the boys would have boats of one kind or another, but mostly motors, Jack had already looked about him, and had already not only formed his plans, but had put some of them in operation.
Leaving Percival, who was his principal chum among the Hilltop boys, Jack went on his wheel to Riverton, the town nearest to the Academy, and called in at the office of the News where he found the editor, Mr. Brooke, pecking away at a typewriter in his sanctum, using two fat fingers only in doing his writing rather than all of them as an expert would do.
Brooke had learned to use the machine in that way, however, and would adopt no other, although he had been shown by Jack, who was a rapid writer on a machine, and could compose on it, that he could do much faster work by the other method.
"How do you do, Sheldon?" said Brooke, looking up. "Got any news?"
"What are you going to do with that little gasolene engine that you used to run your little presses with?" asked Jack.
"I don't know, sell it, I guess. It isn't good for much except junk."
"How much do you want for it?"
"Oh, you can have it if you think you can do anything with it," said the editor carelessly.
"No, I don't want it for nothing. I'll pay you for it."
"What are you going to do with it? It's too little to run any but the small presses. Ain't going to start a paper, are you?"
"No. I can fix it up so as to make it do good work. I want to put it in a motor-boat."
"It might do for that, and if you can fix it up you're welcome to it. You have a mechanical bent, I know, and I guess if any one can fix it up, you can. Well, say ten dollars."
"All right. It will cost me another ten to put it in shape, but after that it will do all right. Will you deliver it to a man that I send after it? I'll take it down to the Riverton shops and work on it. They let me tinker things there whenever I want to."
"Certainly. Send an order, and I'll let the man have it."
"Very good. That's all for the present," and Jack went out.
His next call was at the machine shop he had spoken of, and going on their wharf he looked around, saw an old rowboat lying on the ground, took a good look at it, and then went to the foreman and said:
"What do you want for that rowboat lying on the wharf? I'd like to buy it. It will just suit me."
"It is not worth much, Mr. Sheldon," said the foreman. "You can have it if you want it."
"No, I want to buy it."
"Oh, well, say a dollar, but you'll be a dollar out if you buy it."
"I don't think so," said Jack, who knew what the boat was worth, and that a little money expended on it would not be wasted. "May I have a bench for a few days?"
"Yes, for as long as you like."
Jack hired a man to take the boat to the shop, bought some paint and brushes and some narrow boards used for flooring, and then sent for the engine, which he placed near the boat.
He was of a mechanical turn of mind, as Brooke had said, and knew a good deal about engines, and by the purchase of a few necessary articles, and by working himself he managed in the course of a day or so to put his engine into a condition that thoroughly satisfied him.
Then he bought a propeller, lamps and other necessaries, had the engine fitted into his boat, and then proceeded to deck it over forward, having already remedied any defects that it had, and making it perfectly watertight, and like a new boat with a fresh coat of paint and varnish.
He was a week on the work, but at last his boat was ready and was put in the water with the aid of two or three men from the shop.
He took a run of a mile or so up the river, and then back to the shop, greatly satisfied with the result, having fitted up a boat for less than half what a craft of the cheapest kind would have cost him had he bought it at retail.
He tied his boat up, covered it over and told the foreman that he intended to leave it there for a day or so, and would then call for it.
"Looks to me as if you had a pretty good boat, Mr. Sheldon," said the foreman. "I saw you going up the river. You made a good ten-mile gait, I shouldn't wonder."
"Yes, and I can do better yet," said Jack, smiling. "I was just warming her up a bit. She'll do better when she gets seasoned."
All this time Jack had said nothing to Percival about his boat, which certainly did not look like a made-over affair now that she was painted and decked over, had her lights and all her appurtenances, an engine in her hold and a flagstaff at her bow, meaning to give his friend a surprise.
The day before they were to leave the Academy and go into camp on the river Percival asked Jack if he had secured his boat yet, and added:
"I have mine, and she is a beauty, cost me three hundred dollars, but it's worth all that."
"Mine did not cost me a hundred," said Jack, "and she is sixteen feet long, and makes good speed. I'll have her down to-morrow when we go to camp. She is in a machine shop in Riverton, and it will be easy enough to take her down to our quarters."
"So you have one, eh?" exclaimed Dick. "Where did you buy it? You've been very quiet about it. Did you send to the city for it?"
"No, I got everything around here, as I said I would, fixed it up myself from one thing or another, but I don't think you'd know it, for she is like a new boat."
"And you did all the work on her yourself?"
"Certainly," laughed Jack. "It is nothing new for me to wear overalls and a jumper, and get my hands greasy. I can wash them."
"The first time I saw you it was in overalls. Dress doesn't make a boy. I believe you'd look all right in anything. But I'd like to see the boat now, Jack, and not wait till to-morrow."
"Well, I don't mind showing her to you, Dick, so if you will get out your runabout we'll go down and I'll give you a trip on the river."
"To be sure I will," replied Percival eagerly. "Come along."
After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken."
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.
Gabriela learned her boyfriend had been two-timing her and writing her off as a brainless bimbo, so she drowned her heartache in reckless adventure. One sultry blackout night she tumbled into bed with a stranger, then slunk away at dawn, convinced she'd succumbed to a notorious playboy. She prayed she'd never see him again. Yet the man beneath those sheets was actually Wesley, the decisive, ice-cool, unshakeable CEO who signed her paychecks. Assuming her heart was elsewhere, Wesley returned to the office cloaked in calm, but every polite smile masked a dark surge of possessive jealousy.
Rain hammered against the asphalt as my sedan spun violently into the guardrail on the I-95. Blood trickled down my temple, stinging my eyes, while the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers mocked my panic. Trembling, I dialed my husband, Clive. His executive assistant answered instead, his voice professional and utterly cold. "Mr. Wilson says to stop the theatrics. He said, and I quote, 'Hang up. Tell her I don’t have time for her emotional blackmail tonight.'" The line went dead while I was still trapped in the wreckage. At the hospital, I watched the news footage of Clive wrapping his jacket around his "fragile" ex-girlfriend, Angelena, shielding her from the storm I was currently bleeding in. When I returned to our penthouse, I found a prenatal ultrasound in his suit pocket, dated the day he claimed to be on a business trip. Instead of an apology, Clive met me with a sneer. He told me I was nothing but an "expensive decoration" his father bought to make him look stable. He froze my bank accounts and cut off my cards, waiting for the hunger to drive me back to his feet. I stared at the man I had loved for four years, realizing he didn't just want a wife; he wanted a prop he could switch off. He thought he could starve me into submission while he played father to another woman's child. But Clive forgot one thing. Before I was his trophy wife, I was Starfall—the legendary voice actress who vanished at the height of her fame. "I'm not jealous, Clive. I'm done." I grabbed my old microphone and walked out. I’m not just leaving him; I’m taking the lead role in the biggest saga in Hollywood—the one Angelena is desperate for. This time, the "decoration" is going to burn his world down.
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."
My husband promised me forever, but gave me endless lies. On our anniversary, I found his secrets on social media, exposed by his mistress. He didn't just break my heart; he broke my entire world. Seraphina sat alone in her opulent mansion, preparing their anniversary dinner, feeling the suffocating weight of her cold, hollow marriage. An Instagram post from Tiffany Sloan then brazenly revealed Harrison's hand at a romantic dinner, shattering his flimsy excuses and exposing his blatant infidelity. The betrayal turned Seraphina's despair into cold resolve. He gaslighted her, dismissed her pain, and reminded her she was "nothing." He chose his mistress over her dying brother, caused her to break an ankle, and finally abandoned her on a desolate street corner, stripped of dignity. How could she have sacrificed her entire violin career for a man who so casually discarded her? Under that bridge, her foolish love died, leaving only a fierce desire for reclamation. Shivering and alone, a faded flyer for a violin teacher caught her eye. It was a defiant whisper of her old self, a promise: Seraphina Vanderbilt was gone, and a new Seraphina was finally free.
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