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Read books online » Fiction » Joe the Hotel Boy; Or, Winning out by Pluck by Pluck by Jr. Horatio Alger (best book series to read .txt) 📖

Book online «Joe the Hotel Boy; Or, Winning out by Pluck by Pluck by Jr. Horatio Alger (best book series to read .txt) 📖». Author Pluck by Jr. Horatio Alger



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money—And the blue box is—is—” Again the sufferer began to cough. “I—I want water!” he gasped.

The water was brought and he took a gulp. Then he tried to speak again, but the effort was in vain. The doctor and Joe raised him up.

“Uncle Hiram! Speak to me!” cried the boy.

But Hiram Bodley was past speaking. He had passed to the Great Beyond.





CHAPTER IV.

THE SEARCH FOR THE BLUE BOX.

Three days after his tragic death Hiram Bodley was buried. Although he was fairly well known in the lake region only a handful of people came to his funeral. Joe was the chief mourner, and it can honestly be said that he was much downcast when he followed the hermit to his last resting place.

After the funeral several asked Joe what he intended to do. He could not answer the question.

“Have you found that blue box?” questioned Doctor Gardner.

“No, sir, I have not thought of it.”

“Probably it contains money and papers of value, Joe.”

“I am going to look for it to-day,” said the boy. “I—I couldn't look for it while—while—”

“I understand. Well, I trust you locate the box and that it contains all you hope for,” added the physician.

As luck would have it, Ned Talmadge's family had just gone away on a trip to the West, so Mr. Talmadge could offer the boy no assistance. But Ned was on hand and did what he could.

“You don't know what you'll do next, do you, Joe?” asked Ned, as he and Joe returned to the wreck of the cabin.

“No.”

“Well, if you haven't any money I'll do what I can for you.”

“Thank you, Ned; you are very kind.”

“It must be hard to be thrown out on the world in this fashion,” went on the rich boy, sympathetically.

“It is hard. After all, I thought a good deal of Uncle Hiram. He was strange in his ways, but he had a good heart.”

“Wasn't he shot in the head once by accident in the woods?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe that made him queer at times.”

“Perhaps so.”

“I've got six dollars and a half of my spending money saved up. You may have that if you wish,” continued Ned, generously.

“I'd rather not take it, Ned.”

“Why not?”

“If I can, I want to be independent. Besides, I think there is money around somewhere,” and Joe mentioned the missing blue box.

“You must hunt for that blue box by all means!” cried the rich boy. “I'll help you.”

After the death of Hiram Bodley, Joe and two of the lake guides had managed to repair one room of the broken-down cabin, and from this the funeral had taken place.

The room contained a bed, a table, two benches and a few dishes and cooking utensils The floor was bare and the window was broken out. It was truly a most uninviting home.

“Of course you are not going to stay here, now you are alone?” said Ned, after a look around.

“I don't know where else to go, Ned.”

“Why not move into town!”

“Perhaps I will. But I want to find that blue box before I decide on anything.”

Without delay the two boys set to work among the ruins, looking into every hole and corner they could think of and locate. They pulled away heavy boards and logs, and Joe even got a spade and dug up the ground at certain points.

“It doesn't seem to be here,” said Ned, after an hour had passed.

“It must be here,” cried Joe.

“Perhaps it was buried under a tree.”

“That may be true. Anyway, I am certain it is somewhere around this cabin.”

After that the hunt was continued for another hour, and they visited several spots in that locality where Joe thought the blue box might have been placed. But it was all to no purpose, the box failed to come to light.

At last the two boys sat down on a bench in front of the cabin. Both were tired out, Ned especially so. Joe was much downcast and his friend did what he could to cheer him up.

“The box is bound to come to light some day,” said Ned. “That is, unless some of those men carried it off.”

“What men, Ned?”

“The fellows who helped to mend the cabin just before the funeral.”

“Oh, I don't think they would steal the box. Bart Andrews and Jack Thompson are as honest as the day is long.”

“Well, it's mighty queer you can't find some trace of the blue box.”

The boys talked the matter over for some time, and then Ned announced that he must go home.

“You can go with me if you wish,” he said. “It will be better than staying here all alone.”

But Joe declined the offer.

“I'll stay here, and begin the hunt again the first thing in the morning,” he said.

“Well, if you want anything, come and see me, Joe; won't you?”

“I will, Ned.”

Ned had come over in his own boat and now Joe walked down to the lake with him. His friend gone, the hermit's boy returned to the dilapidated cabin.

He was hungry but he had no heart to eat. He munched some bread and cheese which a neighbor had brought over. He felt utterly alone in the great worlds and when he thought of this a strange feeling came over him.

It was a bitter night for the poor boy, but when morning came his mind was made up. He would make his own way in the world, asking aid from no one, not even Ned.

“And if I can't find the blue box I'll get along without it,” he told himself.

As

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