File:St. Nicholas (serial) (1915) (14784968765).jpg

Identifier: stnicholasserial4311dodg (find matches)
Title: St. Nicholas (serial)
Year: 1873 (1870s)
Authors: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Subjects: Children's literature
Publisher: (New York : Scribner & Co.)
Contributing Library: Information and Library Science Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill
Digitizing Sponsor: University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill

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Text Appearing Before Image:
part of France. —a sad-eyed woman, with fur-
rows, and wrinkles, and a look about her as if
she had wept till she could weep no more.
The second night they rested in an empty barn,
one keeping watch while the other slept. There
was a queer feeling of danger in the whole at-
mosphere. That and the rain were getting on
their nerves.
This was the third day, and still the heavens
poured forth floods, with orchestral accompani-
ment of thunder, and fireworks of vivid light-
ning. It looked as if they must camp that night,
also, but where? There was nt a sign of house
or inn in all the sandy waste. The motor was a
good one, and had borne them bravely forward,

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but petrol was getting scarce, and there was no
place to buy it. When the stock gave out en-
tirely, they must " foot it," Jack told Cyrus,
gloomily. Luckily, they had food and a spirit-
lamp, so they did not starve. Now, about four
o'clock in the afternoon, when there was a merci-
ful lull in the downpour, they stopped in the edge
Text Appearing After Image:


'WE ARE ONLY TWO AMERICAN BOYS, EXPLAINED JACK.'

of a cluster of trees, and Cyrus, expert camp-
cook, proposed tea, putting the lamp on a flat
rock where it was sheltered from a wind which
had turned suddenly icy cold.
Jack examined the motor, cherished by him —
and with reason —as tenderly as if it had been a
baby. Then, spreading out his rain-coat on ag
rassy slope, he flung himself down to rest.
" What s that?" he asked again, and both lis-
tened, Cyrus holding the kettle of boiling water
over the tiny tea-
pot.
" By George! I believe it s cannonading!"
shouted Jack, his weariness forgotten in the pros-
pect of some excitement in this dreary, monoto-
nous world. " Drop the kettle, Cy, and let's run
up to the top of the hill and
see whats going on. It can't
be thunder. It must be can-non !"
Cyrus, mindful of his
domestic duties, —Jack would
never have taken the trouble
to prepare his own meals; he
would have lived on raw
fruits and vegetables and
sucked eggs first, —carefully
made the tea, put some more
water on to boil for wahhing

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