The White Crystals: Being an Account of the Adventures of Two Boys

  Produced by Greg Weeks, Jim Towey, Mary Meehan at TheAdventure Continues and the Online Distributed ProofreadingTeam at https://www.pgdp.net

  THE WHITE CRYSTALS

  Being an Account of the Adventures of Two Boys

  BY HOWARD R. GARIS

  AUTHOR OF "WITH FORCE AND ARMS," "THE KING OF UNADILLA," "THE WHETSTONEOF SWORDS," ETC., ETC.

  WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY BERTHA CORSON DAY

  BOSTON LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 1904

  _Copyright, 1904_, BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.

  _All rights reserved_

  Published October, 1904

  TO MY SON ROGER THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED

  "'No, sir,' replied Mrs. Kimball, firmly, 'I won'tsign'"]

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE

  I. THE DOCTOR'S ADVICE 1

  II. THE SALT CITY 11

  III. A TEST OF STRENGTH 20

  IV. IN DEEP WATER 31

  V. GATHERING THE HONEY 41

  VI. A LOAD OF GRAPES 51

  VII. LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN 61

  VIII. FIGHTING A WILD-CAT 69

  IX. OUT OF THE WOODS 78

  X. BAD NEWS 87

  XI. COPPER AND OLD BONES 99

  XII. JACK FROST 110

  XIII. LAFAYETTE HILL 121

  XIV. A DESPERATE RACE 131

  XV. STRANGERS IN TOWN 141

  XVI. QUEER OPERATIONS 151

  XVII. ROGER SUSPECTS 160

  XVIII. A BIG BLACK BEAR 169

  XIX. ROGER MAKES PLANS 177

  XX. UNDERNEATH THE GROUND 187

  XXI. ROGER TAKES A JOURNEY 196

  XXII. A QUESTION OF LAW 208

  XXIII. THE PLOTTERS FOILED 220

  XXIV. DIGGING FOR SALT 229

  XXV. THE LAST WRESTLING MATCH 237

  LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

  "'No, sir,' replied Mrs. Kimball, firmly, 'I won'tsign'" _Frontispiece_

  "Roger held up the fish pole so that Adrian couldgrasp it" 38

  "Its forepaws struck the boy on the shoulders" 76

  "The Cardiff sled left the beaten road, and plungedinto the almost unbroken snow of the fields" 137

  "His heart beat suddenly at the idea which cameto him" 188

  "Then Roger began to raise the lead to the surface" 191

  THE WHITE CRYSTALS

  CHAPTER I

  THE DOCTOR'S ADVICE

  Dr. Glasby looked over the rims of his spectacles at the boy before him.Then he glanced at Mr. Anderson, cleared his throat with a loud "ahem"that made Roger start, and said, very ponderously:

  "Um!"

  "Well?" asked Mr. Anderson, a little anxious tone coming into his voice,"what's the verdict, doctor?"

  "Um!" said the physician again. "Nothing very serious, Mr. Anderson.Roger, here, is a little run down, that's all. He's been studying toohard, his eyes are a trifle weak, muscles flabby, and his blood hasn'tenough of the good red stuff in it. In short, he must live out of doorsfor a year or so, and then I'll guarantee he will come back with redcheeks and a pair of arms that will make you proud of him. Eh, Roger?"and Dr. Glasby pinched the rather small and soft biceps of the boy,smiling the while, good naturedly.

  "No disease, then, doctor?" from Mr. Anderson.

  "Nothing, my dear sir, except a general poor condition of the system."

  "Don't he need medicine, a tonic, or something? His mother and I arequite worried about him."

  "Not a drop of medicine for this patient," exclaimed Dr. Glasby. "Freshair, fresh country air, and more air. That's all."

  The physician turned aside to replace the apparatus he had used; thestethoscope, with which he had listened to the beating of Roger's heart,the eye-testing mirrors and lights, and the lung-cylinder, into whichthe boy had blown more feebly than Dr. Glasby had liked to see.

  "Then your prescription is--?" began Mr. Anderson.

  "Have him drop his books and studies, stop school, at least for a year,and get out into the country. You'll have to see for yourself that it isput up, for no drug store could supply those ingredients. Can youarrange it?"

  "I think so, doctor. I'll try, anyhow," and, with a hearty handshake,while his face wore a more relieved look than when he entered theoffice, Mr. Anderson left Dr. Glasby, taking Roger with him.

  The journey home was rather a quiet one between Roger and his father.They boarded a surface car on Broadway, and, as it swung along throughthe turmoil of this principal New York street, they were thinking ofwhat they had just heard. Moving now fast and now slow, according to theobstructions of trucks on the tracks, the car clanged on its way. Onceit stopped short, suddenly, to allow a spark-emitting fire engine and aswaying truck with long ladders to dash by to a blaze. Then Roger leapedto his feet, watching, as long as possible, the exciting rush of thered-helmeted and rubber-coated men, his eyes brightening as he noted theplunging, rearing horses.

  "Let's get out and go to the fire!" he called to his father.

  "Not now, son," answered Mr. Anderson. "Your mother will be anxious tohear what Dr. Glasby said, and we don't want to delay and cause herworry, you know."

  "All right," agreed Roger, with just a little disappointment in histone, for he did want to see the fire. But he soon forgot that inwondering what would happen if he didn't have to go to school for awhole year. The suggestion contained such possibilities that he was lostin a maze with plans of what he would do with his time.

  Meanwhile the car continued along more rapidly, and it was not a greatwhile before father and son reached home. Then, as Roger helped hisfive-year-old brother Edward to build a castle out of blocks, Mr.Anderson told his wife the result of the visit to Dr. Glasby. She wasmuch relieved when she learned there was nothing serious the matter withher son, and there was a happy look in her eyes as she glanced at hertwo boys playing together on the floor.

  The Andersons lived in a large but pleasant apartment house on the "westside," as it is called in New York. It was on Thirty-third Street, justwest of Ninth Avenue, along which thoroughfare the elevated railroadpassed. It was so near this, that in warm weather, when the windows wereopen nights, Roger could hear the rattle of the trains and the clatterand hum of the electric motor cars. In fact it was quite a noisy place,where Roger lived, but no one in the neighborhood seemed to mind it, or,if they did, they had grown so used to it that they never spoke of it.Of course there was no yard, and no place to play, except in the street,for space is too valuable in New York to have yards to houses. But therewas the flat roof of the big apartment, where scores of
families lived,and Roger and his boy friends sometimes enjoyed their sports up there.

  Roger Anderson was just past his fifteenth year, rather small for hisage, and not nearly as strong and sturdy as his parents wished he was.Lately his eyes had been troubling him, and he had complained offrequent headaches. He was in his first season at high school, and what,with taking up Latin and algebra, two new worlds of study for the boy,he had been rather closely applied to his books at night. As he wasambitious he threw himself into the vim of learning with an energy thatwas pleasing to his parents and teachers, though it had a bad effect onhis health. For, after a few weeks of school, it was noticed that he wasfailing in energy. There were many days when, in spite of his desire, hefelt disinclined to go to his classes, and he was troubled withdizziness. In short he seemed in such poor shape that Mr. Andersondetermined on a visit to Dr. Glasby, the old family physician. Thatnight, after the consultation with the medical man, when Roger had goneto bed, his father and mother sat up to talk the matter over.

  "I don't like to think of his losing a year's schooling," said Mr.Anderson, as he thought how valuable education was.

  "Better that than to have him get really ill and have to stopaltogether," replied Mrs. Anderson.

  Both were silent a few minutes, turning the question over in theirminds.

  "I suppose we should follow Dr. Glasby's advice as soon as possible,"said Mrs. Anderson, at length. "I wonder what we ought to do. Where canwe send him? Oh dear! I don't at all like the idea of his going awayfrom us. I just know he'll sit about in damp shoes, and his buttons willall come off, for they are always loose, and no one to sew them on."

  "Well," said Mr. Anderson, a little twinkle in his eyes, "losing buttonsisn't to be compared to having one's health break down, and, as for wetshoes, he can take pairs enough along to change whenever he gets in thewater. Still I must confess I don't like to think of Roger being awayfrom us, but he'll have to leave home some day, I suppose, and there'snothing like getting used to it. I went away from my home when I wasfourteen years old."

  "It was different when you were a boy," said Mrs. Anderson, and herhusband smiled, while he wondered how it was.

  "Where do you suppose we can send him?" went on Mr. Anderson. "Dr.Glasby says a year in the country. Now we can't afford to pay heavyexpenses, yet I am determined the boy shall have a free run in the freshair, and live out doors for a change."

  Mrs. Anderson thought for a moment.

  "I have it!" she cried, suddenly. "He can go to his Uncle Bert's, atCardiff. It will be the very thing for him, and when you get yourvacation next summer we can all go up there and see him."

  Mr. Anderson hesitated a minute, for that idea had never come to him.

  "I believe it will be a good plan," he said heartily. "Yes, I'm sure itwill. I'm glad you thought of it. We'll send Roger to Cardiff."

  Thus it was settled that Roger was to give up his studies, whichannouncement, when he heard it next morning, made him both glad andsorry.

  It was a fine day in October, and school had been in session a littlemore than a month of the fall term. The visit to the doctor had beenmade on Saturday. Sunday was spent in talking over the subject morefully in the Anderson household, and in writing a letter to "AlbertusKimball, Esq., Cardiff, Onondaga County, N. Y." This man was Mrs.Anderson's farmer brother. On Monday, instead of going to school, Rogeraccompanied his father down town, where they did considerable shoppingin the way of buying some clothing and underwear for the boy's outfit.Mr. Anderson also got a stout valise, and filled it with articles hethought his son might need. Then, rather tired with tramping about, theyhad dinner in a busy restaurant on Barclay Street, much to Roger'sdelight, for he seldom ate in such places, and it was quite a treat toorder just what he liked best.

  After lunch Mr. Anderson went to the high school where his son wasenrolled, to give notice to the principal of Roger's withdrawal.

  They arrived just before school assembled for the afternoon session,and, while Mr. Anderson was talking with Mr. Blake, the principal, Rogerwandered into the familiar court-yard, where he met a number ofclassmates.

  "Going to leave, eh?" they all questioned as the news got around. "Say,Roger, you're a lucky chap. I wish my father would take me out ofschool."

  "I believe I'd rather stay," said Roger.

  "Oh, cut that out! What you giving us!" called several, sincerely, ifnot politely.

  "No, I would, really," insisted Roger, and he honestly meant it, thoughhe could not help feeling a little important over the small excitementhe was creating among his companions. Still he did like his studies verymuch, for he was just beginning to appreciate the inspiration of Virgil,the wonders of the science work, and the sturdy exactness of algebraicequations.

  A few minutes later Mr. Anderson came out of Mr. Blake's office, and thetwo men walked over to where Roger stood. Mr. Blake shook hands withhim, gravely, and, while expressing regret that his pupil was leavingschool, agreed that it was best, under the circumstances. He hoped tosee Roger back again, he said, much improved in health, and, with cheerygood-byes from his companions, the boy walked out of the school-yardwith his father. There was just the trace of tears in Roger's eyes,which he hoped his father wouldn't see, for, after all, it was ratherhard to leave such a lot of fine chums as he had.

  For the next few days there were busy times in the Anderson home. Suchan overhauling of Roger's clothes, such a sewing on of buttons, doublestrong, almost enough for a small army of boys, such a darning ofstockings, and a mending of rents in coats and trousers, and suchadmonition and advice as his mother gave him, from never forgetting tosay his prayers, to not neglecting to clean his teeth. For he had neverbeen away from his parents before, in all his short life, and it was amomentous occasion.

  The novelty of the affair, and the anticipation of adventures in storefor him, kept Roger from thoughts that he might possibly be lonesome orhomesick, after he had started away. Under the stimulus of preparationhe even began to feel better in health. His pale cheeks showed a littlecolor, and his head had not ached since he had been to the doctor's.

  On Thursday a letter came from Uncle Bert, telling Mrs. Anderson to sendRoger right along; that they would all try to make him comfortable andhappy. So it was arranged he was to start next Monday night, and, toMrs. Anderson, the time, until then, seemed altogether too short,though, boylike, Roger thought the intervening days would never pass.His ticket had been purchased, his valise packed, and by Sunday nighteverything was in readiness. At church that day the boy felt his eyesgrow a little misty as the choir sang the solemn songs, but he made uphis mind that he must play the part of a man now, at least as far asappearances went. So he gulped down the lump in his throat.

  The train was to leave the Grand Central Station of the New York CentralRailroad at nine o'clock Monday night. The last arrangements had beenmade, and Mr. Anderson prepared to accompany his son to the depot.

  "Bwing me back suffin' nice, Roggy," called little Edward, sleepily, ashe put up his cheek to be kissed.

  "I will, Eddie, I will," said Roger, his voice trembling a bit, in spiteof his determination to be firm. He cuddled his baby brother close tohim.

  "Now be very careful, my boy," said Mrs. Anderson, for at least thetwentieth time. "Clean your teeth every day, and change your shoes assoon as you get your feet wet."

  Her motherly eyes showed a suspicious brilliancy, and her voice was notas steady as it usually sounded. She hugged Roger closely to her, andgave him a kiss that he long remembered, and then, with a brokengood-bye, she turned and went into the house, while Roger and Mr.Anderson started for the station.

  They stepped out briskly, boarded a surface car, and were soon rattlingtoward Forty-second Street, where the depot was located. Roger was totake a train for Syracuse, a city twelve miles from Cardiff, to whichvillage he would go by wagon or stage. There was plenty of time beforenine o'clock, but Mr. Anderson believed in being a little ahead of atrain, instead of behind it. He didn't give his son much adv
ice, for heknew Mrs. Anderson had said all there was to say, and he realized thatRoger was a boy who didn't need to be cautioned after what his motherhad told him.

  The train Roger was to go in had already been made up, and the portershowed him to his place in the sleeping-car, where he had a lower berth.

  "Now, my boy," said Mr. Anderson, looking at his watch, "you have tenminutes before starting time. I think I'll leave you, as you are in goodshape here, and I want to get back to your mother. I know you will getalong nicely, and I needn't say I know you'll do what's right, at alltimes, for I'm sure you will. Your Uncle Bert will meet you in Syracuse,when you arrive there in the morning, and you don't have to change cars.The porter will look after you occasionally. Now, good-bye," and with ahearty handshake Mr. Anderson left Roger alone.