Now or Never; Or, The Adventures of Bobby Bright: A Story for Young Folks, Optic [best classic books of all time txt] 📗

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NOW OR NEVER

Or, The Adventures of Bobby Bright.

A Story for Young Folks

by

OLIVER OPTIC

Author of The Boat Club, All Aboard, In Doors and Out, etc.

Boston: Lee and Shepard, Publishers.
New York: Lee, Shepard & Dillingham, 49 Greene Street

1872

TO MY NEPHEW, CHARLES HENRY POPE.

This Book

IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. PREFACE

The story contained in this volume is a record of youthful struggles, not only in the world without, but in the world within; and the success of the little hero is not merely a gathering up of wealth and honors, but a triumph over the temptations that beget the pilgrim on the plain of life. The attainment of worldly prosperity is not the truest victory, and the author has endeavored to make the interest of his story depend more on the hero's devotion to principles than on his success in business.

Bobby Bright is a smart boy; perhaps the reader will think he is altogether too smart for one of his years. This is a progressive age, and any thing which Young America may do need not surprise any person. That little gentleman is older than his father, knows more than his mother, can talk politics, smoke cigars, and drive a 2:40 horse. He orders "one stew" with as much ease as a man of forty, and can even pronounce correctly the villanous names of sundry French and German wines and liqueurs. One would suppose, to hear him talk, that he had been intimate with Socrates and Solon, with Napoleon and Noah Webster; in short, that whatever he did not know was not worth knowing.

In the face of these manifestations of exuberant genius, it would be absurd to accuse the author of making his hero do too much. All he has done is to give this genius a right direction; and for politics, cigars, 2:40 horses, and "one stew," he has substituted the duties of a rational and accountable being, regarding them as better fitted to develop the young gentleman's mind, heart, and soul.

Bobby Bright is something more than a smart boy. He is a good boy, and makes a true man. His daily life is the moral of the story, and the author hopes that his devotion to principle will make a stronger impression upon the mind of the young reader, than even the most exciting incidents of his eventful career.

WILLIAM T. ADAMS.

DORCHESTER, Nov. 15, 1856.

CONTENTS.

CHAP. I.—In which Bobby goes a fishing, and catches a Horse.

CHAP. II.—In which Bobby blushes several Times, and does a Sum in
Arithmetic.

CHAP. III.—In which the Little Black House is bought, but not paid for.

CHAP. IV.—In which Bobby gets out of one Scrape, and into another.

CHAP. V.—In which Bobby gives his Note for Sixty Dollars.

CHAP. VI.—In which Bobby sets out on his Travels.

CHAP. VII.—In which Bobby stands up for certain "Inalienable Rights."

CHAP. VIII.—In which Mr. Timmins is astonished, and Bobby dines in
Chestnut Street.

CHAP. IX.—In which Bobby opens various Accounts, and wins his first
Victory.

CHAP X.—In which Bobby is a little too smart.

CHAP. XI.—In which Bobby strikes a Balance, and returns to Riverdale.

CHAP. XII.—In which Bobby astonishes sundry Persons, and pays Part of his Note.

CHAP. XIII.—In which Bobby declines a Copartnership, and visits B—— again.

CHAP. XIV.—In which Bobby's Air Castle is upset, and Tom Spicer takes to the Woods.

CHAP. XV.—In which Bobby gets into a Scrape, and Tom Spicer turns up again.

CHAP. XVI.—In which Bobby finds "it is an ill wind that blows no one any good."

CHAP. XVII.—In which Tom has a good Time, and Bobby meets with a terrible Misfortune.

CHAT. XVIII.—In which Bobby takes French Leave, and camps in the Woods.

CHAP. XIX.—In which Bobby has a narrow Escape, and goes to Sea with
Sam Ray.

CHAP. XX.—In which the Clouds blow over, and Bobby is himself again.

CHAP. XXI.—In which Bobby steps off the Stage, and the Author must finish "Now or Never."

CHAPTER I. IN WHICH BOBBY GOES A FISHING, AND CATCHES A HORSE.

"By jolly! I've got a bite!" exclaimed Tom Spicer, a rough, hard-looking boy, who sat on a rock by the river's side, anxiously watching the cork float on his line.

"Catch him, then," quietly responded Bobby Bright, who occupied another rock near the first speaker, as he pulled up a large pout, and, without any appearance of exultation, proceeded to unhook and place him in his basket.

"You are a lucky dog, Bob," added Tom, as he glanced into the basket of his companion, which now contained six good-sized fishes. "I haven't caught one yet."

"You don't fish deep enough."

"I fish on the bottom."

"That is too deep."

"It don't make any difference how I fish; it is all luck."

"Not all luck, Tom; there is something in doing it right."

"I shall not catch a fish," continued Tom, in despair.

"You'll catch something else, though, when you go home."

"Will I?"

"I'm afraid you will."

"Who says I will?"

"Didn't you tell me you were 'hooking jack'?

"Who is going to know any thing about it?"

"The master will know you are absent."

"I shall tell him my mother sent me over to the village on an errand."

"I never knew a fellow to 'hook jack,' yet, without getting found out."

"I shall not get found out unless you blow on me; and you wouldn't be mean enough to do that;" and Tom glanced uneasily at his companion.

"Suppose your mother should ask me if I had seen you."

"You would tell her you have not, of course."

"Of course?"

"Why, wouldn't you? Wouldn't you do as much as that for a fellow?"

"It would be a lie."

"A lie! Humph!"

"I wouldn't lie for any fellow," replied Bobby, stoutly, as he pulled in his seventh fish, and placed him in the basket.

"Wouldn't you?"

"No, I wouldn't."

"Then, let me tell you this; if you peach on me I'll smash your head."

Tom Spicer removed one hand from the fish pole and, doubling his fist, shook it with energy at his companion.

"Smash away," replied Bobby, coolly. "I shall not go out of my way to tell tales; but if your mother or the master asks me the question, I shall not lie."

"Won't you?"

"No, I won't."

"I'll bet you will;" and Tom dropped his fish pole, and was on the point of jumping over to the rock occupied by Bobby, when the float of the former disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

"You have got a bite," coolly interposed Bobby, pointing to the line.

Tom snatched the pole, and with a violent twitch, pulled up a big pout; but his violence jerked the hook out of the fish's mouth, and he disappeared beneath the surface of the river.

"Just my luck!" muttered Tom.

"Keep cool, then."

"I will fix you yet."

"All right; but you had better not let go your pole again, or you will lose another fish."

"I'm bound to smash your head, though."

"No, you won't."

"Won't I?"

"Two can play at that game."

"Do you stump me?"

"No; I don't want to fight; I won't fight if I can help it."

"I'll bet you won't!" sneered Tom.

"But I will defend myself."

"Humph!"

"I am not a liar, and the fear of a flogging shall not make me tell a lie."'

"Go to Sunday school—don't you?"

"I do; and besides that, my mother always taught me never to tell a lie."

"Come! you needn't preach to me. By and by, you will call me a liar."

"No, I won't; but just now you told me you meant to lie to your mother, and to the master."

"What if I did? That is none of your business."

"It is my business when you want me to lie for you, though; and I shall not do it."

"Blow on me, and see what you will get."

"I don't mean to blow on you."

"Yes you do."

"I will not lie about it; that's all."

"By jolly! see that horse!" exclaimed Tom, suddenly, as he pointed to the road leading to Riverdale centre.

"By gracious!" added Bobby, dropping his fish pole, as he saw the horse running at a furious rate up the road from the village.

The mad animal was attached to a chaise, in which was seated a lady, whose frantic shrieks pierced the soul of our youthful hero.

The course of the road was by the river's side for nearly half a mile, and crossed the stream at a wooden bridge but a few rods from the place where the boys were fishing.

Bobby Bright's impulses were noble and generous; and without stopping to consider the peril to which the attempt would expose him, he boldly resolved to stop that horse, or let the animal dash him to pieces on the bridge.

"Now or never!" shouted he, as he leaped from the rock, and ran with all his might to the bridge.

The shrieks of the lady rang in his ears, and seemed to command him, with an authority which he could not resist, to stop the horse. There was no time for deliberation; and, indeed, Bobby did not want any deliberation. The lady was in danger; if the horse's flight was not checked, she would be dashed in pieces; and what then could excuse him for neglecting his duty? Not the fear of broken limbs, of mangled flesh, or even of a sudden and violent death.

It is true Bobby did not think of any of these things; though, if he had, it would have made no difference with him. He was a boy who would not fight except in self-defence, but he had the courage to do a deed which might have made the stoutest heart tremble with terror.

Grasping a broken rail as he leaped over the fence, he planted himself in the middle of the bridge, which was not more than half as wide as the road at each end of it, to await the coming of the furious animal. On he came, and the piercing shrieks of the affrighted lady nerved him to the performance of his perilous duty.

The horse approached him at a mad run, and his feet struck the loose planks of the bridge. The brave boy then raised his big club, and brandished it with all his might in the air. Probably the horse did not mean any thing very bad; was only frightened, and had no wicked intentions towards the lady; so that when a new danger menaced him in front, he stopped suddenly, and with so much violence as to throw the lady forward from her seat upon the dasher of the chaise. He gave a long snort, which was his way of expressing his fear. He was evidently astonished at the sudden barrier to his further progress, and commenced running back.

"Save me!" screamed the lady.

"I will, ma'am; don't be scared!" replied Bobby, confidently, as he dropped his club, and grasped the bridle of the horse, just as he was on the point of whirling round to escape by the way he had come.

"Stop him! Do stop him!" cried the lady.

"Whoa!" said Bobby, in gentle tones, as he patted the trembling horse on his neck. "Whoa, good horse! Be quiet! Whoa!"

The animal, in his terror, kept running backward and forward; but Bobby persevered in his gentle treatment, and finally soothed him, so that he stood quiet enough for the lady to get out of the chaise.

"What a miracle that I am alive!" exclaimed she when she realized that she stood once more upon the firm earth.

"Yes, ma'am, it is lucky he didn't break the chaise. Whoa! Good horse! Stand quiet!"

"What a brave little fellow you are!" said the lady, as soon as she could recover her breath so as to express her admiration of Bobby's bold act.

"O, I don't mind it," replied he, blushing like a rose in June. "Did he run away with you?"

"No; my father left me in the chaise for a moment while he went into