A Fight for Fortune. Or, The Tiger of Batol

T.C. Bridges

A pair of seventeen-year-old boys leaves the house to make their way to fate in the Far Eastern seas. It must be my hands that are at fault, then, replied Clive. Ive been trying everywhere for the past three weeks, and cant get taken on. I came down here to look up Captain Brereton, an old friend of my fathers. Hes skipper and part owner of a tramp steamer, the Sphinx. I hoped to cadge a passage to Australia, where I thought I might find a job.

Dartmoor Legacy

T.C. Bridges

At the Bar-Tor farm in Dartmoor, owned by young Robert Hamlin. Downstairs, on the red land of Devon, a porcelain clay deposit was found, the value of which, although not fantastic, was large enough to make searchers be interested in the possibilities of buying all the property. Their idea was to get it before Robert Hamlin realized that he had a hidden asset that cost a lot more than all of his agricultural land. But they did not outsmart him.

Driven to Sea

T.C. Bridges

Dick traveled halfway around the world to get to this particular house, and despite his pinkish-white appearance, the boy had a lot of courage. Dick saw a heavy, bloated-looking man, with a fat, flabby face and thick, black hair and eyebrows. His clothes were black, so was his tie; even his finger-nails shared in the general mourning. He looked like a funeral mute off duty.

Luck or Pluck. A Story of the Northern Forests

T.C. Bridges

The long table was filled with guys from Overtons school, everyone was busy with breakfast and talked from sixteen to a dozen. Only two days remained until the end of the summer semester, and everyone was wildly excited about the idea of returning home for a long eight-week vacation. Bruce, being the captain of the hostel, sat at the head of the table, and Clive next to him so that they could read their letters calmly.

Marlow of the Mounted

T.C. Bridges

Keith Marlowe, who had just been trained at the Mounted Police Barracks, Regina, is heading to the country of Kuchin and the Rockies to gather white drug dealers. Keith has a long, painful journey, and many difficulties must be overcome before his mission is successfully completed.

Martin Crusoe. A Boys Adventure on Wizard Island

T.C. Bridges

A few minutes passed, and Martin, lazily tapping his pencil on paper, seemed to have little interest in sounds. Then suddenly his attitude changed, his back straightened, and a look of passionate interest illuminated his sharp gray eyes. The door of the large room opened, and a boy came in quickly, a boy about the same age as Martin, but as dark and thin as Martin, tall and bright.

Men of the Mist

T.C. Bridges

The TEA at the Wasperton School was nothing more than thick slices of bread and margarine and an ominous black mixture served in huge metal teapots. The food was so bad that the boys could hardly eat it, but they did not dare to complain, at least as long as they were under the gaze of their master, Mr. Silas Craishaw. Because his eyes were no less rigid than his cane, and not a day passed, but some of them felt a prick of it. Among the forty or so boys who were sitting at two long tables, there was a couple that was somehow different from the rest. Despite their worn clothes and patched boots, an atmosphere of reproduction reigned around Clem and Billy Ballard.

Messengers Million

T.C. Bridges

Fat Mr. Horner might have changed his mind if he could have watched Gilberts face as he drove his rattling old motorcycle over the bridge and climbed the steep slope beyond. The young mans lips were clenched and his eyes were hard. These weekly trips to Taverton were the only gap in the deadly monotony of life in the works of Carnaby Clay, and he hated to return there, like a boy hates to return to school.