Ralph Grangers Fortunes

Ralph Granger's Fortunes

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Title: Ralph Granger's Fortunes
Author: William Perry Brown

Release Date: June 26, 2006 [eBook #18683]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
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RALPH GRANGER'S FORTUNES
by
WILLIAM PERRY BROWN
Illustrated By W. H. Fry

[Frontispiece: "Grandpa!" cried Ralph. "You shall not shoot, I say!"]

Akron, Ohio The Saalfield Publishing Co. New York ---- 1902 ---- Chicago Copyright, 1902, by The Saalfield Publishing Company

TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I.
Ending the Feud II. Ralph and his Grandfather III. Ralph Continues his Journey IV. The Moonshiners and the Railroad V. Ralph's First Railroad Ride VI. Ralph in Columbia VII. An Enraged Photographer VIII. Captain Shard's Proposal IX. Ralph Arrives at Savannah X. The Captain Talks with Ralph XI. Aboard the Curlew XII. The Curlew Puts to Sea XIII. A Taste of Ship's Discipline XIV. Bad Weather XV. Boarded by a Cruiser XVI. Nearing the Gold Coast XVII. Up the River XVIII. A Brush in the Wilderness XIX. Left Behind XX. Ralph Stumbles on a Discovery XXI. At Close Quarters XXII. Trouble of Another Kind XXIII. Adrift XXIV. Ralph's Sufferings XXV. The Second Mate's Story XXVI. Hard Times XXVII. Uncle Gideon

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"Grandpa!" cried Ralph. "You shall not shoot, I say!" . . . . . . . . . Frontispiece
"Mr. Duff," said Gary in his most grating tones, "who gave you the authority to interfere with my designs regarding this insolent youngster?"
Ralph's Winchester cracked and the raised arm fell shattered and useless.
"Quick, Ralph, pull me through by the arms."

Ralph Granger's Fortunes.
CHAPTER I.
Ending the Feud.
"Must I do it, grandpa?"
"Of course you must! I'm afraid you ain't a true Granger, Ralph, or you wouldn't ask no such question."
"But why should I do it, grandpa?"
"Listen at the boy."
The sharp-eyed, grizzled old man rose from his seat before the fire, and took down an ancient looking, muzzle loading rifle from over the cabin door.
"I'll tell you why."
He patted the gun, now lying across his knees.
"This here was your father's gun. He carried it for many years. I had it when the feud betwixt the Grangers and the Vaughns first began. He had it with him when he was shot down at the Laurel Branch by John Vaughn, just six years ago today."
"Today is my birthday," commented Ralph, a sturdy-limbed, ruddy-faced lad.
"And you are fifteen. Think of that; 'most a man. I said I'd wait till you was fifteen, and as it happens, his son's a goin' to mill today."
"What of that?"
"You just wait and you'll see. All you've got to do is to obey orders."
The old man got up, took down a leather shot pouch, and proceeded to load the rifle carefully. After which he slung the pouch and a powder horn round Ralph's neck, then went out and looked at the sun.
He returned, placed the rifle in the lad's hands, and bade him follow. Taking their hats they went out of the house.
Steep mountain ridges cut off any extended view. An old field or two lay about them, partially in the narrow creek bottom and partially climbing the last rugged slopes.
There was a foot log across the little brawling brook, beyond which the public road wound deviously down the glen towards the far distant lowlands.
Ralph eyed the unusually stern expression of his grandfather's face dubiously as they trudged along the road.
Bras Granger was all of sixty-five years old, dried and toughened by toil, exposure, and vindictive broodings, until he resembled a cross-grained bit of time-hardened oak. His gait, though shambling, was rapid for one of his age.
"You said you'd tell me why," suggested Ralph, as they wound their way along the crooked road.
"Didn't I say that the son of the man as killed your father was comin' by the Laurel Branch this mornin'? Haven't the Vaughns and the Grangers been at outs for more than twenty year? What more d'ye want?"
The boy frowned, but it was in perplexity rather than wrath.
They came at last to a wooded hollow, through which another creek ran, thickly shaded by thick overhanging shrubbery. The old man led the way to a half decayed log of immense size, that lay behind a thick fringe of bushes, at an angle just beyond where the road crossed the creek.
It was a deadly spot for an ambuscade.
"Lay down behind that log," said old Granger. "Now, can you draw a good bead on him