Books with author Josephine Chase

The Khaki Boys at Camp Sterling - Training for the Big Fight in France by Josephine Chase“You, over there in the crowd, and you and you, why don’t you get busy and help Uncle Sam? What are you hanging back for? Now’s your chance to show that you’re a real American, and ready to fight for your country. What’s the use of waiting for the draft to get you? You’re just wasting time! The sooner you enlist, the sooner you’ll be ready to do your bit in France. It’s up to good old Uncle Sam to jump into the big war and win it. But he can’t do it alone. It needs a lot of brave, husky fellows to lick the Boches off the map. Are you going to be one of ’em? Every little bit helps, you know!“Now we’re going to sing you one more song. While we’re singing it, get on the job and think hard. We want to take a bunch of you back with[2] us to the recruiting station. All right, boys. Give ’em ‘The Glory Road to France!’”Standing in the middle of a big recruiting wagon, lavishly decorated in red, white and blue, the orator, a good-looking young soldier of perhaps twenty years, bawled out, “Let ’er go!”From one end of the wagon rose the strains of a lively air, enthusiastically hammered out on a small, portable piano by another khaki-clad youngster, seated on a stool before it. Gathered about him, half a dozen clean-cut soldier boys immediately took it up. The sheer catchiness of the melody, tunefully shouted out by the singers, had its effect on the crowd. The sturdy quality of the words, too, brought a flash of newly aroused patriotism to more than one pair of eyes belonging to the throng of persons closely packed about the big wagon. It appeared to deepen with the lustily given chorus:

Grace Harlowe's Overland Riders in the High Sierras by Josephine Chase“Who is this Stacy Brown that you girls are speaking of?” questioned Emma Dean as the Overland girls sat down to dinner in Grace Harlowe’s hospitable Haven Home.“He is my Hippy’s nephew,” Nora Wingate informed her. “You will like ‘Chunky,’ as he is known to his friends, and I promise you that he will keep this outfit from getting lonely,” added Nora laughingly.“He was one of the members of the Pony Rider Boys’ outfit,” volunteered Grace. “You know we have heard of them several times on our journeyings. They used to go out in search of adventure every summer, so Stacy is a seasoned campaigner. We shall need him where we are going, too.”“By the way, where are we going, Grace?” spoke up Elfreda Briggs. “I believe our destination is to be in the nature of a surprise—a mystery, as it were.”“I just dote on mysteries,” bubbled Emma. “Of course I could have learned all about it had I not been too conscientious.”“That is characteristic of your sex,” replied Hippy Wingate soberly. “May I ask you how you could have found out?”“I thank you for the compliment, and regret exceedingly that I cannot return the compliment in kind. How could I have found out? Why, by the transmigration of thought.”“The what?” cried Elfreda laughingly. “Is this some new freak, Emma Dean?”“It may be new with me, but the principle is as old as the ages. I belong to the Society for the Promotion of Thought Transmigration. Our great and Most Worthy Master lives in Benares, India, where numbers of the faithful journey for instruction and inspiration once every two years.”“Do you mean to say that you belong to that fool outfit?” wondered Hippy.“I am happy to say that I do. I joined last winter, and, novice that I am, I have realized some remarkable results,” replied Emma.“Nora, we ought to take her to a specialist before we start on our journey. It won’t do to have a crazy person with us. She might get us into no end of trouble,” suggested Hippy.“Humph! I’d much prefer to be crazy than to have a bungalow head,” retorted Emma scornfully.“A bungalow head?” exclaimed the girls.“Yes. A bungalow has no upper story, you know.”