This collection of literature attempts to compile many of the classic works that have stood the test of time and offer them at a reduced, affordable price, in an attractive volume so that everyone can enjoy them.

"Hello there, Bristles " "Hello yourself, Fred Fenton " "Why, what ails you this fine summer morning, Bristles? You don't look as jolly as you might." "Well, I was only waiting to see if you cared to speak to me, Fred." "Why in the wide world shouldn't I, when you're one of my chums, Bristles Carpenter?"

"Now then, let's see who can put a shot through that round hole in the tree-trunk up there. Take a try, Sid." "Must be twenty yards away from here, if a foot, eh, Bristles?" "More like twenty-five to me, Colon; and looks farther than from first base to third, on the diamond." "Line up, everybody, and we'll soon find out who takes the cake at making a center shot. But hadn't we better bar out Fred Fenton?" "What for, Bristles?"

"I see you're limping again, Fred." "That's right, Bristles. I stubbed my toe at the very start of this cross-country run, and that lost me all chance of coming in ahead. That's why I fell back, and have been loafing for a stretch." "And let me catch up with you; eh? Well, I reckon long-legged Colon will have a cinch in this race, Fred." "Seems that way. He can get over ground for a certain time like a deer, you know."

"Where to now, Jack?" "Oh, I just thought I'd run into town and see what's going on, Tom. Want to come along?" "I'd like to-but this Latin-" "Oh, bother the Latin " and Jack Fitch, the chum and roommate of Tom Fairfield, snatched the book from the scarcely resisting grasp of his friend. "Come along. You're up well enough. Besides, we haven't that old tyrant Skeel to deal with now in the classics."

"You fellows want to be sure to come round to my house to-night and listen in on the radio concert," said Bob Layton to a group of his chums, as they were walking along the main street of Clintonia one day in the early spring. "I'll be there with bells on," replied Joe Atwood, as he kicked a piece of ice from his path. "Trust me not to overlook anything when it comes to radio. I'm getting to be more and more of a fan with every day that passes. Mother insists that I talk of it in my sleep, but I guess she's only fooling."

"Hi, Tom, give us a ride in your boat; will you?" "Take us across to the other side of the river." The request and the suggestion came from two lads who were walking toward a small boathouse, on the edge of a rather wide river. The youth to whom they spoke looked up from a small motorboat, the engine of which he was cleaning.

It is very appropriate at this moment when radio has taken the country by storm, and aroused an enthusiasm never before equaled, that the possibilities for boys in this art should be brought out in the interesting and readable manner shown in the first book of this series.

"Jiminy, but this is hot work " exclaimed Bob Layton, as he laid down the hammer he was using and wiped his perspiring forehead. "Hot is right," agreed his friend, Joe Atwood, as he also took a moment's breathing space. "You might almost think it was August instead of early June. Old Sol must have got mixed up in his calendar."

"You can't go in that room." "Why can't I?" "Because that's the orders; and you can't smoke in this room." Bart Stirling spoke in a definite, manly fashion. Lemuel Wacker dropped his hand from the door knob on which it rested, and put his pipe in his pocket, but his shoulders hunched up and his unpleasant face began to scowl. "Ho " he snorted derisively, "official of the company, eh? Running things, eh?" "I am-for the time being," retorted Bart, cheerfully. "Well," said Wacker, with an ugly sidelong look, "I don't take insolence from anyone with the big head. I reckon ten year's service with...