Through the Air to the North Pole / Or, The Wonderful Cruise of the Electric Monarch
Through the Air to the North Pole / Or, The Wonderful Cruise of the Electric Monarch by Roy Rockwood
Through the Air to the North Pole / Or, The Wonderful Cruise of the Electric Monarch by Roy Rockwood
"Come now, you boys git out of here! No tramps allowed in Freeport while Ezra Jenkins is constable! Move along, now, or I'll arrest ye! Here's my badge of authority!" And a crabbed old man, wearing a faded blue suit, with a big shining star of metal on his coat, tapped the emblem with his club.
Two boys, who had just joined each other, after having called at houses on the main street of the little New York village, where Constable Jenkins held sway as the entire police force, started at the sound of the harsh voice.
"Come; are ye goin' to move?" snapped the constable.
"I suppose we'll have to," answered the larger and stouter of the two lads, "but we haven't done anything."
"Ye're tramps, ain't ye?" inquired the constable. "Course ye are! Been beggin', ain't ye? Course ye have! I kin see the victuals stickin' out of yer pockets now! Move on an' git out of Freeport! We don't want any tramps here!"
"Come on, Mark," said the heavier of the two boys; "if our room is better than our company, they can have the room. I hope you'll get richer boarders than we are," the youth went on, turning to the constable. "We are going to shake the dust of Freeport from our feet. I think they ought to call this town Closedport instead of Freeport!"
"None of yer sass, now!" warned the constable, tapping his badge again.
"Jest you move on out of town!"
"I think we had better go," murmured the other boy, who was thin and small. "Don't make any trouble, Jack."
"All right," assented the other. "Ta-ta, Mr. Chief of Police! See you later!"
"Here, you young rascals!" cried the constable. "Come back here an' I'll lock ye up!"
But the boys started to run, and, as Mr. Jenkins was no longer young, and as his legs were rather stiff, he went only a little way before he had to stop. He shook his fist after the two lads.
"Do you suppose he would have locked us up?" asked the small boy, whom his companion addressed as Mark. His full name was Mark Sampson, but he was very unlike his strong ancestor who pulled over the pillars of the temple.
"He acted mean enough to do anything," replied Jack Darrow, who was quite a contrast in point of size and fleshiness to his companion.
"What shall we do now?" asked Mark.
"Keep on moving, I guess," was the reply, "At least until we get outside of Freeport."
"Well, I'm glad I've got company now. It was lonesome before I met you."
"Same here. We'll travel a way together, eh?"
The two boys had met under rather strange circumstances. Early that morning Jack Darrow, the stout one, had awakened from his sleep in a pile of hay in a farmer's field. Close to him was another youth, whose name he had inquired as soon as the owner of it awoke.
Then the two boys discovered that their conditions in life were very similar. Both were orphans, about the same age, Jack being sixteen and Mark fifteen years, and neither had a place he could call home.
"My folks have been dead for some years," said Jack, in telling his story to his companion. "I was hired out to a farmer in the upper part of New York, but he worked me so hard and treated me so mean that I ran away. I've been tramping ever since; don't my clothes show it? You see I was forced to go without taking my many trunks along," and he laughed, for he was of a jolly disposition.
"My people are dead also," said Mark. "I had a job with a man going around the country with a traction engine, threshing wheat and oats at different farms. But he used to beat me, so, one night, I ran away."
"And didn't bring any extra clothes with you, either," put in Jack.
"I never owned any to bring. I only had the one suit I wore."
And after that the boys had told something of their experiences and become very friendly.
The two boys walked on for a while in silence, kicking up the dust of the country road. Then Jack came to a halt, clapped his hand on his pocket, and said:
"I nearly forgot I had something to eat! Just think of it! And I haven't dined since yesterday! I wonder what the lady gave me. She looked good natured."
He sat down on a grassy bank along the highway, pulled the package of food out, and began to eat with every indication of satisfaction.
"Bread, meat, piece of pie and a piece of cake!" he announced, looking over his lunch. "What did you get, Mark?"
"I got the same as you, except I didn't get any pie or cake."
"I guess your lady hadn't baked this week. Never mind, you can have half my pie and half my cake."
"I'm sure I'm much obliged," said the thin youth.
"You needn't be," broke in Jack. "That's the law of the road. When two-well, I suppose I might as well say tramps, for that's what we are-when two tramps go off together, they whack up. And that's what we're going to do!"
It did not take long for the boys to finish their simple meal. Jack, true to his promise, shared his dessert with his companion.
"Well, I feel like going on now, and looking for a job," remarked the heavier weighted lad. "What do you say, Mark?"
"I guess we might as well get out of this town. They don't seem to care for us. But I wish I had a drink of water."
"Nothing easier," replied Jack. "There you are," and he pointed a short distance ahead, where a brook ran along the road. The boys got down on their faces near a little pool, the bottom of which was covered with white pebbles, and drank heartily. Then, refreshed by the water, their hunger appeased, and rested, they started on the tramp again.
"Any particular place you want to go to?" asked Mark.
"No, I'm not particular. East or west, the north pole or the south pole. I haven't any one to worry about me, no matter which way I go. I'd a little rather go north, though, as it is mighty warm to-day," and Jack laughed carelessly.
Little did he guess how soon his wish was to be gratified.
"Then we may as well keep on until we get to the next town," said Mark.
They walked on for some distance, their thoughts busy with their recent experiences, when they suddenly heard a noise at a distance.
"Sounds like a freight train," said Mark.
"So it is! Come on! Let's get aboard! Riding is easier than walking any day! Hurry up!"
And then the two boys broke into a run toward a slow moving freight on a track that crossed the country road a short distance away from them.
"Look out that you don't get under the wheels!" cautioned Jack to his companion.
"Oh, I'm used to jumping the cars," replied Mark, as he ran quickly up beside the rails.
The two boys reached the track along which the freight train was bumping and clicking. It was a long outfit, with many box, flat and gondola cars.
"Try for a gondola!" suggested Jack, indicating the cars with sides about five feet high, and open at the top.
The next instant he had swung up on a car, thrusting his foot in the iron step, and grasping the handle in a firm grip. Jack grabbed the next car, and landed safely aboard. Then, running forward, and clambering over to where his companion was, Jack pulled Mark down on the bottom of the gondola.
"No use letting a brakeman see you if you can help it," he explained.
Roy Rockwood was a house pseudonym used by the Stratemeyer Syndicate for boy's adventure books. The name is mostly well-remembered for the Bomba, the Jungle Boy (1926-1937) and Great Marvel series (1906- 1935). The Stratemeyer Syndicate was the producer of a number of series for children and adults including the Nancy Drew mysteries, the Hardy Boys, and others. The Stratemeyer Syndicate was the creation of Edward Stratemeyer, whose ambition was to be a writer a la Horatio Alger. He succeeded in this ambition (eventually even writing eleven books under the pseudonym "Horatio Alger"), turning out inspirational, up-by-the-bootstraps tales. In Stratemeyer's view, it was not the promise of sex or violence that made such reading attractive to boys; it was the thrill of feeling "grown-up" and the desire for a series of stories, an "I want some more" syndrome. Works written under that name include: Five Thousand Miles Underground; or, The Mystery of the Centre of the Earth (1908), Jack North's Treasure Hunt (1907) and Lost on the Moon; or, In Quest of the Field of Diamonds (1911).
Lost on the Moon or In Quest of the Field of Diamonds by Roy Rockwood
Under the Ocean to the South Pole; Or, the Strange Cruise of the Submarine Wonder by Roy Rockwood
Through Space to Mars; Or, the Longest Journey on Record by Roy Rockwood
On a Torn-Away World; Or, the Captives of the Great Earthquake by Roy Rockwood
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