Books with author Herbert Carter

The Boy Scouts of America was founded in 1910 and has grown to be one of the largest youth organizations in the world, with 2.7 million members. Scouts of various types have been a standard feature of young adult literature for generations -- but one of the earliest kicked off in 1913. The "Boy Scouts" series by "Herbert Carter" (a pseudonym for author St. George Rathborne, who wrote the whole series with the exception of volume 9) ran for 12 volumes. It follows scouts through adventures with their local troop and then for the last few volumes embroils them in World War I action. Included are:THE BOY SCOUTS FIRST CAMP FIRETHE BOY SCOUTS ON THE BLUE RIDGETHE BOY SCOUTS ON THE TRAILTHE BOY SCOUTS IN THE MAINE WOODSTHE BOY SCOUTS THROUGH THE BIG TIMBERTHE BOY SCOUTS IN THE ROCKIESTHE BOY SCOUTS ON STURGEON ISLANDTHE BOY SCOUTS DOWN IN DIXIETHE BOY SCOUTS AT THE BATTLE OF SARATOGATHE BOY SCOUTS ALONG THE SUSQUEHANNATHE BOY SCOUTS ON WAR TRAILS IN BELGIUMTHE BOY SCOUTS AFOOT IN FRANCEIf you enjoy this book, search your favorite ebook store for "Wildside Press Megapack" to see the more than 180 other entries in the series, covering science fiction, modern authors, mysteries, westerns, classics, adventure stories, and much, much more!

“I’m no weather sharp, boys; but all the same I want to remark that it’s going to rain like cats and dogs before a great while. Put a pin in that to remember it, will you?”“What makes you say so, Davy?”“Yes, just when we’re getting along splendidly, with the old Susquehanna not a great ways off, you have to go and put a damper on everything. Tell us how you know all that, won’t you, Davy Jones?”“Sure I will, Giraffe, with the greatest of pleasure, while we’re sitting here on this log, resting up. In the first place just notice how gray the sky’s gotten since we had that snack at the farm house about noon!”.....

OUT FOR A ROYAL GOOD TIME "Will you do me a favor, Bumpus?" "Sure I will, Giraffe; what is it you want now?" "Then tell me who that is talking to our scoutmaster, Dr. Philander Hobbs; because, you know, I've just come in after a scout ahead, and first thing saw was a stranger among the patrol boys." "Oh! You mean that thin chap who came along in his buggy a bit ago, chasing after us all the way from that town where we had a bite of lunch? Why, I understand he’s the son of the telegraph operator there. You know we made arrangements with him to try and get a message to us, if one came along

The Boy Scouts Through the Big Timber : or The Search for the Lost Tenderfoot“A land-slide!” exclaimed Giraffe, as he sat up, and began twisting his long neck around, as though doubtful whether he should dodge to the right or to the left, since it was difficult to locate the direction from whence the furious racket seemed to come.“Better say an earthquake!” Step Hen managed to articulate, though he was shaking all over, with the excitement, that he would hardly have recognized his own voice. “I c’n feel the old ground shake! Listen, would you, to that smash! Must be volcanoes around here.”“Keep still, and listen,” said Thad, in that tone of authority which both the talkers recognized as belonging to the scoutmaster, rather than their Chum Thad.So they held their tongues, and strained their ears to listen.There was no trouble in hearing, for the racket still kept up. There were heavy thuds, crashes, and a breaking of bushes. No wonder the scouts were mystified. No wonder one thought it a land-slide, while another believed some supposed extinct volcano had burst into action again, and that the rain of stones that followed, produced these weird sounds.

“Call the roll, Mr. Secretary,” said the acting scoutmaster.Of course this was a mere matter of form, because everybody knew that the entire membership of the Silver Fox Patrol, connected with the Cranford Troop of Boy Scouts, was present. But nevertheless Bob White gravely took out his little book, and made each boy answer to his name.“Thad Brewster.”“Present,” said the patrol leader, and assistant scoutmaster.“Allan Hollister.”[4]“Here,” replied the second in command, a Maine boy, now living in Cranford, the New York town from whence these boys had journeyed to this far-off region along the foothills of the great Rocky Mountains.“Bumpus Hawtree.”“Ditto,” sang out the fat youth, looking up with a wide grin; for he was about as good-natured as he was ponderous.“Giraffe Stedman.”“More ditto,” answered the tall lad, with the long neck, and the quick movements, who was busying himself over the fire, being never so happy as when he could feed wood to the crackling blaze.“Step Hen Bingham.”“On deck,” replied the boy mentioned, who was busy with the supper arrangements.“Davy Jones.”“O. K.” came from the fellow who was walking on his hands at the moment, his waving feet being high in the air, where his head was supposed to appear; because Davy was a gymnast, and worked off his superfluous energy in doing all manner of queer stunts.