IN SEARCH OF TREASURE By HORATIO ALGER, JR. Author of “Mark Manning’s Mission,” “Tom Temple’s Career,” “Tom Thatcher’s Fortune,” “Tom Turner’s Legacy,” Etc. [Illustration: colophon] NEW YORK HURST & COMPANY PUBLISHERS. Copyright 1894 By FRANK A. MUNSEY & COMPANY Copyright 1907 By A. L. BURT COMPANY IN SEARCH OF TREASURE In Search of Treasure CHAPTER I INTRODUCES GUY AND HIS FATHER “I wish I could send you to college, Guy,” said Mr. Fenwick, as they sat in the library, reading by the soft light of a student lamp. The speaker was the Rev. Mr. Fenwick, the pastor of a church in Bayport, a few miles from New Bedford, Massachusetts. “I don’t think I care much about going to college, father,” said Guy, a bright, manly, broad-shouldered boy of sixteen. “When I was of your age, Guy,” replied his father, “I was already a student of Harvard. You are ready for college, but my means are not sufficient to send you there.” “Don’t worry about that, father. There are other paths to success than through college.” “I am rather surprised to hear you speak so indifferently, Guy. At the academy you are acknowledged to be the best Latin and Greek scholar they have had for years.” “That may be, father.” “It is so. The principal so assured me, and he would not misrepresent just to please me.” “I am glad that I have so good a reputation.” “With such qualifications it seems certain you would achieve success in college, graduate high, and, in time, become a distinguished professional man, or perhaps professor.” “Perhaps I might; but, father, in spite of my taste for study, I have one taste still stronger.” “What is that?” “A taste for adventure. I want to see the world, to visit strange countries, to become acquainted with strange people.” As the boy spoke his face became flushed and animated. Mr. Fenwick looked surprised. “Certainly,” he said, “you don’t get this taste from me. When I was a boy I used to stay indoors to read and study. I cared nothing for the sports and games that interested my school companions.” Guy smiled. “I believe you, father,” he said. “You don’t go out half enough now. Instead of shutting yourself up in your study, you would be stronger and healthier if you would walk five miles a day.” Mr. Fenwick slightly shuddered. He was a pale, thin man, with an intellectual look, but had the air of a scholar and a recluse. “I couldn’t do it, Guy,” he said. “Even if I walk a mile, I feel that it is a hardship. It is tame and monotonous. I don’t see where you get your red cheeks and exuberant spirits from.” “From my mother’s family, I think, father.”