By Sheer Pluck: A Tale of the Ashanti WarHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
General
By Sheer Pluck: A Tale of the Ashanti War
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Ashanti war, 1873-1874 -- Juvenile fiction
Frank, after he was once fairly settled at his new work, had written
to his friend the doctor, at Deal, telling him of the position he had
taken, and that he was in a fair way to make at least a comfortable
living, and that at a pursuit of which he was passionately fond. He
asked him, however, while writing to him from time to time to give him
news of his sister, not to tell any one his address, as although he was
not ashamed of his berth, still he would rather that, until he had made
another step up in life, his old schoolfellows should not know of his
whereabouts. He had also written to his friend Ruthven a bright chatty
letter, telling him somewhat of his adventures in London and the loss of
his money, and saying that he had now got employment at a naturalist's,
with every chance of making his way.
“When I mount a bit higher,” he concluded, “I shall be awfully glad to
see you again, and will let you know what my address may then be.
For the present I had rather keep it dark. If you will write to me,
addressed to the General Post Office, telling me all about yourself and
the fellows at school, I shall be very, very glad to get your letter. I
suppose you will be breaking up for Christmas in a few days.”
Christmas came and went. It was signalized to Frank only by the despatch
of a pretty present to Lucy, and the receipt of a letter from her
written in a round childish hand. A week afterwards he heard somebody
come into the shop. His employer was out, and he therefore went into the
shop.
“I knew it was!” shouted a voice. “My dear old Frank, how are you?” and
his hand was warmly clasped in that of Ruthven.
“My dear Ruthven,” was all Frank could say.
“I had intended,” Ruthven exclaimed, “to punch your head directly I
found you; but I am too glad to do it, though you deserve it fifty times
over. What a fellow you are! I wouldn't have believed it of you, running
away in that secret sort of way and letting none of us know anything
about you. Wasn't I angry, and sorry too, when I got the letter you
wrote me from Deal! When I went back to school and found that not even
Dr. Parker, not even your sister, knew where you were, I was mad. So
were all the other fellows. However, I said I would find you wherever
you had hidden yourself.”
“But how did you find me?” Frank asked greatly moved at the warmth of
his schoolfellow's greeting.
“Oh! it wasn't so very difficult to find you when once I got your letter
saying what you were doing. The very day I came up to town I began
to hunt about. I found from the Directory there were not such a great
number of shops where they stuffed birds and that sort of thing. I tried
the places in Bond Street, and Piccadilly, and Wigmore Street, and so on
to begin with. Then I began to work east, and directly I saw the things
in the window here I felt sure I had found you at last. You tiresome
fellow! Here I have wasted nearly half my holidays looking for you.”
“I am so sorry, Ruthven.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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