Wilding

“ Wilding's embrace, while the tears, which he did not try to conceal, streamed down his face.
"Hurrah!" fairly yelled William. "We've found him!" and he began dancing around the room.
At the sound of William's cry Ned looked up and saw his chums.
"Why—why—where did you all come from?" he asked.
"We came after you," replied Bart, "and a fine chase you led us. Where in the world have you been, Ned? "
"Here! What's all this row about in my place?" asked Cassidy, hurrying up from the rear of the resort. "You people have no right in here."
"Easy, Cassidy," advised the detective. ”

“ Obenreizer’s film came over him.
“The object of my present visit,” said Vendale, “is, I need hardly say, to assure you of the friendliness of Wilding and Co., and of the goodness of your credit with us, and of our desire to be of service to you. We hope shortly to offer you our hospitality. Things are not quite in train with us yet, for my partner, Mr. Wilding, is reorganising the domestic part of our establishment, and is interrupted by some private affairs. You don’t know Mr. Wilding, I believe?” ”

“ You'll get what's coming to you pretty soon," retorted William confidently, as he went down to the street to await the return of Bart with reinforcements.
Bart soon got into communication with Mr. Wilding, and with the two chums, at their hotel. They said they would hurry to the lodging house, and Mr. Wilding announced that he would bring a detective from headquarters, rather than have the boys ask a policeman to investigate the matter. Meanwhile, Mr. Wilding advised Bart to keep close watch on the lodging house. ”

“ Thus musing, and puzzling over whether he had done the right thing, William continued to help unload the truck, keeping a sharp lookout for Mr. Wilding or the three chums.
The three boys arrived first. They came down the street in a hurry looking for the place William had described to the hotel clerk over the telephone.
“There he is!” cried Bart, as he caught sight of the boy they had pulled from the snow drift. “Where’s Ned?” he added. ”

“ Dres. Prithee, dear Wilding, moderate thy Passion.
Wild. By Heaven, I will; she shall not have the Pleasure to see I am concern’d—Morrow, Widow; you are early up, you mean to thrive, I see, you’re like a Mill that grinds with every Wind.
Sir Char. Hah, Wilding, this that past last Night at Sir Timothy’s for a Man of Quality? Oh, give him way, Wilding’s my Friend, my Dear, and now I’m sure I have the Advantage of him in my Love. I can forgive a hasty Word or two.
Wild. I thank thee, Charles—what, you are married then? ”

“ An innocent, open-speaking, unused-looking man, Mr. Walter Wilding, with a remarkably pink and white complexion, and a figure much too bulky for so young a man, though of a good stature. With crispy curling brown hair, and amiable bright blue eyes. An extremely communicative man: a man with whom loquacity was the irrestrainable outpouring of contentment and gratitude. Mr. Bintrey, on the other hand, a cautious man, with twinkling beads of eyes in a large overhanging bald head, who inwardly but intensely enjoyed the comicality of openness of speech, or hand, or heart. ”

“ Wilding should continue the search with a private detective he had hired, while William and Bart would make a tour of the lodging houses. Fenn and Frank were to remain at the Imperial Hotel.
“There’s no telling when a message may come from the baggage agent telling us that Ned has called for his trunk,” Bart said, “and some one ought to be ready to hurry to the depot. We’ll have to divide our forces.” ”

“ Something about the lad attracted William's attention.
"I wonder if that's Ned?" he said to himself. "He looks just like the boys told me he would and like that photograph Mr. Wilding had. Still I wouldn't like to make a mistake. I must get closer."
He pretended to be searching for a number on the building, and so approached near to the boy helping unload the crates.
"I'll bet it is Ned," William said to himself with conviction. "I'm going to ask him. He can't any more than say no." ”

“ He held his father's hand and his chums crowded around him.
"Here," said Cassidy suddenly, holding out five one dollar bills to Ned.
"What are they for?" asked Mr. Wilding.
"Guess they're his. Anyhow four and a half belongs to him. The rest is interest. I took 'em from under his pillow thinking they were mine. I hope you'll let this thing drop."
"You've made a serious mistake, Cassidy," Detective Reilly said. "You are liable to be sued for damages."
"I hope you'll not prosecute me," whined the lodging house keeper.
"That's a question we can settle later," said Mr. Wilding sternly. ”

“ Wilding know where we are stopping. You know he said he was coming to New York. We must send him a wire. If he has left Darewell, the bank will know his address here, and forward it to us."
This plan, Frank's chums decided, was a wise one. They turned toward a telegraph office which they had noticed near their hotel. As they were going down a dark side street Bart, who was in advance, stumbled over something and fell into a snow drift.
"Hurt yourself?" asked Frank. ”

“ Then drink it thus, cried the rash young fool, and splashed the contents of his cup full into the face of Mr. Wilding even as that gentleman, on his feet, was proposing to drink to the eyes of the young fool's sister. ”

“ Ned said he had spoken to his father about the Perry family, and Mr. Wilding was going to get Jane a place to work. Mr. Keene expressed a wish to help the widow, and arrangements were made to see that she did not suffer any more for lack of food or clothing for herself and daughters. When the roads were better Mrs. Keene went to visit Mrs. Perry, and Jane secured a place in a store in Kirkville, so she could come home every night. ”

“ Leycippes and Clitophonta, a romance in Greek, by Achilles Tatius, in the fifth century; borrowed largely from the Theag ́enês and Chariclēa of Heliodōrus, bishop of Trikka.
Liar (The) , a farce by Samuel Foote (1761) . John Wilding, a young gentleman fresh from Oxford, has an extraordinary propensity for romancing. He invents the most marvellous tales, utterly regardless of truth, and thereby involves both himself and others in endless perplexities. ”

“ Bart Keene, Ned Wilding, Frank Roscoe and Fenn Masterson, (who was called Stumpy, for short, because of his rather limited height and breadth of beam) , were four boys who lived in the town of Darewell. This was located not far from Lake Erie, on the Still River, a stream in which the boys fished, swam and upon which they spent many hours in their big rowboat.
With the exception of Frank Roscoe, the boys lived in the heart of the town. Their parents were fairly well off, and the boys had been chums since they attended primary school together. ”

“ Wilding with a smile.
“Why, I lost my hundred dollars the first thing.”
“Not exactly lost it, Ned, though you haven’t got it. You can consider that you bought a hundred dollars worth of experience, and I think you got quite a lot for your money.”
“I certainly did,” replied Ned with conviction.
“By the way,” his father went on. “I got a telegram from your aunt. Her niece in Chicago is not as ill as was at first believed, and Mrs. Kenfield is coming home soon. She wants you boys to stay and visit her. Your uncle will be home from Europe in another week.” ”

“ Up the stairs they went, the hearts of the boys beating with anxiety. Mr. Wilding’s face showed the strain he was under but, as for the detective, he seemed to take it all as a matter of course. He had seen too many similar scenes to be affected.
The little party entered the main room of the [231] lodging house. Mr. Wilding pressed forward, close behind the detective. Through the office window he caught sight of a boy scrubbing the floor. There was something dejected in the lad’s appearance. Mr. Wilding looked a second time. Then he called out:
“Ned! My boy!”
“Father!” ”

“ Bart remarked.
"I'd like to find out. It certainly is something strange," went on Fenn. What the mystery was will be told in the third volume of this series, to be called, "Frank Roscoe's Secret."
A little later the train drew into the Darewell depot. There was quite a crowd to welcome the boys, for their story was partly known. Mr. Wilding had telegraphed to the families of Ned's chums, that the mystery was solved and the trouble at last ended. ”

“ Ricka, as told in the first volume of this “Darewell Chums Series.”
Mr. Wilding, after much solicitation on Ned’s part, had allowed his son to take one hundred dollars of the money to invest in any way he saw fit, subject to certain restrictions.
“I’ll not let you buy gold bricks with it, of course,” Mr. Wilding had said, “and I advise you not to invest it in alleged counterfeit money or ‘green goods.’ But anything else in reason you may do. It’s your first real business venture, and it will be good for you to learn by experience. I had to when I was a boy.”
“How about buying oil stock?” ”

“ His three chums heard him as if in a dream, but they comprehended.
"One, two, three!" cried Frank.
Then, above the noise of the gale, above the shrieks of the women and girls, above the hoarse calls of frightened men, arose the yell, given with all the power of the lungs of the four boys:
"Ravabava—Havabava—Hick! Hick! He!
Dabavaba—Nabahaba—Snick! Snack! Snee!
⁠Why do we thus loudly yell? ”

“ The overcoat was purchased, and the four boys went to police headquarters.
“Gentleman waiting to see you,” the sergeant said. “Seems terribly upset about something.”
[195] They went into an anteroom and found Mr. Wilding. He had been in New York since early Thursday morning, but had been unable to locate the boys, since the finding of William in the snow had taken from the minds of the three chums all thoughts of sending the telegram to Darewell, telling Ned’s father of their address. ”

“ There was much that was merely boyish about the blind impetuosity of Wilding White, with his wild hair and eager aquiline face. He was evidently one who might (as he said) learn the secret of Isis, but would be quite incapable of keeping it to himself. The long, legal face of Owen Hood had already learned to laugh at most things, if not to laugh loudly. But in Crane there was something more hard and militant like steel, and as he proved afterwards in the affair of the hat, he could keep a secret even when it was a joke. ”

“ Snake used to know this guy, and it was for shootin’ him that Louisiana was run out of the country. Fact is, I’ve heard most of what I know from Snake.”
“I’d better interview him, I suppose,” said Wilding.
“If you can get any info out of him as to where that mine is you ought to tell me as quick as that French dame,” said Marian. “Believe me, I’m needing gold mines a lot more than she does. She ain’t so hard up that she can’t go chasing around the country and livin’ at swell hotels and hiring lawyers and things while I got to work for what I get. Anyway, half of that mine belongs to me.” ”

“ Don’t know how to behave in company!”
“It takes Fenn to please the girls,” retorted Ned, and he dodged to escape a blow Stumpy aimed at him. Then the gong rang for the afternoon session and the pupils went back to their classrooms.
While the boys are at their lessons, which is about the only time, save when they are asleep, that they are not talking or doing something, there will be opportunity of telling who they are.
Ned Wilding’s mother had been dead some years. His father was cashier in the only bank in Darewell, a thriving manufacturing town not far from Lake Erie. ”

“ You can go off hunting and enjoy yourself while other folks work. Then because you get lost in the woods you think every one you meet has got to give you a ride. Not much! You can walk to Darewell!" And whipping up his horses Sandy drove on, laughing loudly at the predicament of the chums.
"Might have known better than to ask him," murmured Ned. "Well, fellows, I guess we'll have to walk."
It was easier traveling in the road than through the woods and across the fields, but still it was hard work. However, they managed to get a lift from a farmer when they were within a mile of town. ”

“ From that village it was seven miles to Darewell.
"It's going to be a long pull," remarked Ned. "But I guess we can make it."
"Let's go out and see how the snow is," suggested Bart.
They found though it was quite deep it was dry and soft so that tramping through it, and pulling the sled, would not be so great an exertion as it otherwise would have been.
"We'll have to take it easy, and we may get home in time for dinner," said Frank. "Pity, though, we can't have some of our own game cooked for the feast, but we'll not arrive in time." ”

“ The snow was coming down faster now, and the wind had increased. It was not very cold, however, and they were warmly dressed so they did not mind it. They had a compass with them, to avoid getting lost, and, confident they would return laden with turkeys or rabbits, they tramped on through the woods.
"Say, fellows! Here's something!" cried Frank suddenly, pointing to some tracks in the snow. His companions ran to where he stood.
"Turkey tracks!" called Bart. "They're leading off into the woods, too! Come on! We'll get some birds now!" ”

“ Attending which institution our story finds them.
There was Ned Wilding, whose mother was dead, and their father was cashier of the Darewell Bank.
Bart Keene was a stout-hearted youth, more fond of sports than he was of eating or sleeping, his father used to say. As for Stumpy, he was just the sort of a lad his name indicated. Happy, healthy, hearty and with a fund of good nature that nothing could daunt.
Frank Roscoe was rather different from his chums, but they were very fond of him. Spite of his occasional fits of strangeness. Frank had lived with his uncle as long as he could remember. ”