westward into Hudson Bay.

Bert kept in almost constant communication with Montreal for the rescue
flight of the Goliath was the news of the hour for every paper in the
United States and Canada.

Serge had taken a long afternoon shift at the controls while Andy slept
and at sundown they changed, Serge going back into the main cabin for a
warm supper and a few hours sleep. At midnight he would relieve Andy.

The wind had died down to a whisper. The sky was brilliant with stars
and the Goliath made steady progress northward. There was a chill in the
air by midnight and Serge had on his sheepskin when he came forward to
relieve Andy.

“They’re having trouble with No. 5 engine again,” said Andy, “and I’m
going back and see what’s up. I’ll have them cut it off until they find
out just what’s the matter.”

Serge nodded, squinted at the chart and compass, and swung the nose of
the Goliath one point east.

Back in No. 5 engine room Andy found the motor crew battling a stubborn
piece of machinery. The motor would turn over all right but they
couldn’t get the necessary speed. Andy slipped into a pair of coveralls
and worked with the crew. The trouble was in the timing and it took them
two hours to do the job.

When Andy returned to the main gondola, the sky was light in the east
for they were getting into a latitude where the summer nights were short
and the days extremely long. Andy stepped into the control room and
Serge pointed ahead of them to a blue expanse of water.

“Hudson Strait,” he cried and Andy, hardly believing the words, looked
at the chart. An hour later they were cutting across a corner of Fox
Land. Then the Goliath was over Baffin Land with the waters of Baffin
Bay ahead and to their right.

At five a.m. Andy, who had slept for two hours, relieved Serge. A sharp
wind had come out of the north and the Goliath’s speed was down to
seventy miles an hour.

The broad expanse of Baffin Bay was dotted with ice. They nosed out over
Home Bay with the open area of the South water beneath them. Ahead was
the great area of everlasting ice known as the Middle ice. For three
hours the Goliath fought its way over the ice sheet. Then came the 25
mile stretch of open water known as Middle water and then another sheet
of desolate ice. It was noon when the Goliath finally left the Middle
ice and looked down on the berg-dotted stretch of North water. To their
right was that majestic land of eternal ice—Greenland, while to their
left was the desolate reaches of Ellesmere island.

Serge took over the controls but Andy, instead of going back to rest,
remained at the window, looking down at the ever-changing panorama.

Bert had managed to pick up the wireless station at Etah and had asked
for a weather report.

“Clear but a thirty mile wind from the north,” Etah had replied, when
the operator had recovered from his astonishment at learning of the
proximity of the Goliath.

With their speed greatly curtailed by the strong wind and a desire to
economize as much as possible on fuel, it was late in the day when the
Goliath stuck its nose into Smith Sound and looked down at Etah, the
farthest north year-round settlement of Greenland.

The Goliath dropped low over Etah in salute to its residents. Then the
motors of the Goliath echoed their power through the stillness of the
Arctic, Andy brought the nose up, and they proceeded up Smith’s Sound
and into Kane Basin.

Ahead of them loomed a gray blanket of fog and Andy sent the Goliath
climbing for altitude. Four, five, six, even seven thousand feet they
fought their way against the bitter wind but the drifting mist of gray
enveloped them. They came down to eight hundred feet but there was no
escape. The fog clung to the earth and it was impossible to see more
than two hundred feet ahead of the control room. Double lookouts were
posted and extra men ordered into the observation cockpits atop the
Goliath with telephone sets strapped to them so they could communicate
any possible danger or send news of a break in the fog bank.

The Goliath crept ahead under reduced speed, barely feeling its way
along. Andy knew that below them was the great ice cap which covered
Greenland and in the region over which they were now flying an
occasional mountain peak reared its head through the eternal blanket of
ice and snow. The danger of colliding with such a peak was known to
every member of the crew and not a man so much as closed his eyes while
the Goliath battled the fog.

The real danger from the fog, which only Andy and Serge realized, was
ice. In less than half an hour the outer covering of the Goliath was
sheathed in ice. The sides of the gondola were covered with the
treacherous stuff and even the windows froze over. It was necessary to
lower them and the cold fog swept into the control room. Sheepskins were
buttoned close as the Goliath moved slowly ahead.

Serge kept his eyes on the altimeter. The needle was wavering at eight
hundred feet. Then it dropped to seven-fifty and finally to seven
hundred. The weight of the ice was forcing them down.

Serge nudged Andy and pointed significantly to the needle. It was down
to six seventy-five. Andy nodded grimly and ordered more speed, at the
same time trying to nose the Goliath higher with the increased lifting
power of the additional speed.

They gained a bare hundred feet, held it for five minutes, and then saw
the needle of the altimeter start down.

“Take the controls,” Andy told Serge. “I’m going to ask for volunteers
to go on top with me and try and chop the ice loose.”

“You can’t do that,” protested Serge. “The risk is too great. Someone
will slip off and be killed.”

“It’s either going up top and trying to clear off the ice or wait here
until we’re forced down and crash into something, which would mean the
loss of the Goliath and the end of the rescue flight to the Neptune.
I’ve got to go.”

There was no hesitancy among the crew in volunteering for the dangerous
task. They equipped themselves with short axes and steel bars, special
steel cleated shoes and ropes fastened around their waists. Andy divided
his crew of volunteers, four of them going aft and three of them
accompanying him aloft at the bow of the Goliath.

When they emerged in the observation cockpit where another member of the
crew was huddled trying to peer into the fog, they found themselves in a
world alone. Ahead, behind, and on each side stretched the solid wall of
cold, gray mist. The top of the Goliath shone dully under the sheet of
ice, the depth of which was increasing every minute.

“Lash yourselves to the steel cable along the catwalk,” Andy cautioned
them, “and be careful in using the axes. Don’t chop through the
metalized covering if you can help it.”

The men nodded grimly and crept cautiously out on the catwalk, each one
careful to fasten the rope around his body. Setting the spikes on their
shoes firmly into the ice, they began hacking away at the menacing
shield which covered the Goliath.

It was a slow, tedious task and the air was bitter cold. They cleaned
off the forward part of the catwalk and then started cautiously out on
top of the Goliath. Great sheets of ice slipped away under the prying of
their bars but it seemed that new sheets formed almost as fast as they
pried the old ones loose.

Andy’s hands became numb and his face felt like an icy mask.

The lookout in the observation cockpit shouted at them.

“Control room says we’re holding steady now at five hundred feet. Asks
if you want more help.”

“Tell them to send up a relief crew,” replied Andy. Ten minutes later
three fresh men were working with him and they attacked the ice with
renewed vigor. Andy felt fortunate that there had been no accident so
far but the thought was hardly in his mind when one of the new men,
overly-enthusiastic, slipped and disappeared in the fog. His safety rope
was fastened to the cable along the catwalk, but he had been in too much
haste to tie it securely and Andy saw the rope slipping. Somewhere over
the side of the Goliath this man was hanging, undoubtedly feeling the
quiver of the rope as the knot slipped.

Forgetting his own danger, Andy hurled himself along the catwalk. He
seized the other man’s safety rope just before the knot gave way. Andy’s
arms jerked out straight and he cried aloud at the sudden pain. He
wrapped his legs around the cable on the catwalk and sprawled out on top
of the Goliath, head-foremost toward the edge over which the other man
had disappeared.

Andy’s cries brought the attention of the watch in the observation
cockpit and the other two men working on top with him. As fast as the
treacherous condition of the catwalk would permit, they hastened toward
him but to Andy their progress was painfully slow.

The rope was slipping through his hands. His fingers tightened until it
seemed they would crack but they were so numb from cold he couldn’t put
his full strength on the rope. It was slipping faster and faster.
Somewhere on the other end the man who had been working beside him only
a minute before was swinging like a pendulum along the side of the
ice-encrusted dirigible.

Andy cried out again. He saw the three coming to his aid hurl themselves
toward him. He closed his eyes. The rope was slipping faster. Something
hit him so hard that he gasped for breath and the rope raced through his
fingers. He clutched at it and his fingers closed against his own palms.

When Andy opened his eyes one of the crew was bending over him while the
other two were pulling their companion up over the side of the Goliath.
They had reached Andy just as his numbed fingers let go their hold.

A minute later the man who had been looking death in the face was safe
on the catwalk, grateful to Andy for the risk he had taken.

Bert, who had sensed something wrong when the watch in the forward
cockpit had failed to answer, came charging up. Andy was in no condition
to remain up top longer and Bert made him go below into one of the
engine rooms to thaw out.

Crews on top of the Goliath were changed every half hour and in this
manner the dirigible wallowed through the fog. It was mid-forenoon
before the haze showed any signs of lifting but at noon there was a
definite break and the Arctic sun soon dispelled the menace in gray.

When Andy was able to shoot their position again, he found that the
Goliath was approaching Cape Morris Jessup, the northernmost tip of
Greenland.

There were irregular leads in the ice pack which surrounded the cape,
but these soon dropped behind and the Goliath moved out over the white
expanse of the silent Arctic. They were on the last leg of their long
flight, heading east and north now for the position from which Harry had
sent his appeal for help. The second day slipped away and they recorded
the coming of the third in their log book.

They were fifty-five hours out from Bellevue. The sky was clear but the
chill wind still swept out of the north. The interior of the main cabin
and control room was warm again and the crew experienced no discomfort
in its flight.

They crossed the Greenwich meridian at noon the third day. The Neptune
was somewhere east of them by nine degrees and 31 minutes and about two
degrees north. Andy altered the course slightly and the Goliath swept
nearer the North Pole, although still some three hundred miles from that
visionary goal.

Every man who was not on duty in the control or engine rooms was at the
windows or stationed in the observation cockpits atop the dirigible,
straining ahead for some glimpse of the Neptune and its marooned crew.

Static had been bad all morning but Bert kept up an incessant call for
Harry. It was an hour after crossing the Greenwich meridian when he
received his first answer and his wild whoop of joy brought Andy into
the radio room on the run.

“I’m talking with Harry now,” cried Bert. “He says to hurry. The pack
ice is breaking up and the Neptune may be lost at any minute.”

“Tell them to get out of the tin tub and get onto the ice where they’ll
be safer,” replied Andy. “We’ll be there within another hour.”

“Two members of the crew are sick,” replied Bert.

“Then they’ll have to fix up some kind of shelter on the ice,” said
Andy.

“And Harry says it looks like a norther is coming up,” added the radio
operator.

“Tell him we’re coming at full speed. Have him keep his set going and
use your radio compass in guiding us to him.”

Bert agreed and Andy hastened back to the control room.

“Bert’s just talked with Harry,” he told Serge, “and Harry says it looks
like a bad storm is brewing. We’ll put on full speed and pick them up
just as soon as possible.”

Word telephoned down from the observation cockpits warned the control
room that clouds to the north looked bad. This news added confirmation
to that received from Harry and the Goliath raced over the waste of ice
and snow at a hundred miles an hour. Every eye was strained ahead to
catch some sign of the trapped submarine and its crew.

“The ice is more open here,” Andy told Serge. “I wouldn’t be surprised
if the Neptune has disappeared by the time we reach there. Harry said
the ice was getting dangerous and I warned them to get out at once.”

“I’ve had enough of the Arctic right now,” said Serge. “The experience
with the fog scared me half to death. I thought sure we were going to
crash over Greenland and we would if you hadn’t gone aloft and kept
enough of it chopped off.”

“We ought to be near the Neptune now,” said Andy, “unless my
calculations are way off.”

“Want me to start circling from here?” asked Serge.

Before Andy could reply, Bert came from the radio room.

“The Neptune is due north of us,” he cried. “Harry sent a flash. Said he
caught a glimpse of us with the sun slanting off the silver sides.”

Serge swung the rudder over hard and the Goliath, its motors working
rhythmically, bored into the heart of the northland. Ahead a solid wall
of gray was mounting toward the heavens. In less than an hour the
blizzard would be on them.

Five minutes later the watch in the No. 1 cockpit on top phoned that he
had sighted the Neptune.

“Crew’s on the ice,” was the terse message. “The sub’s still in sight
but the ice is moving and it won’t be long until the sub is gone.”

Andy’s keen eyes were the first in the control room to sight the
marooned crew of the Neptune. Behind them he saw the great ridge of ice
in which the Neptune had been caught. The dark nose of the undersea
craft was still in sight but the ice was heaving and churning under the
pressure of the moving ice pack.

Fissures in the ice were widening and the wind swooped out of the north
with an ominous roar. Flurries of snow swept past them. The temperature
was dropping fast. The rescue must be a matter of minutes or the Arctic
might claim the Goliath as well as the Neptune.

“You’re better at a landing than I am,” Serge told Andy. “Take over.”

Andy stepped into the place of command and under his skillful hands the
Goliath slid down toward the crew of the Neptune. Steel cables, with
heavy grapnels, had been rigged especially for a landing on the ice.
When Andy gave the order to shut off the engines, the steel hooks were
dropped. They caught on the uneven ice and electric winches to which
they were fastened rapidly drew the Goliath down until the main gondola
rested just above the ice pack.

Harry was the first to reach the gondola where he was greeted
enthusiastically by Andy, Bert and Serge.

“You’re just in time,” he told them. “The ice is breaking up. That means
the end of the Neptune and this blizzard would probably have finished
us.”

While Harry was talking, the sound of the coming storm was drowned by a
series of splintering crashes. The ice ahead of them heaved and buckled.

Great chunks were hurled into the air. The nose of the Neptune was
pushed straight up. For a moment the submarine hung in this position.
Then, to the accompaniment of the steady booming of the ice, the sleek,
steel hull slid from view. It was gone in ten seconds—devoured by the
ever-hungry Arctic.

Gilbert Mathews, who had aged years in the last few days, stumbled
across the ice.

“Thank heaven you’ve arrived,” he cried. “We must hurry. The blizzard is
almost upon us.”

In twos and threes the crew of the Neptune hurried toward the Goliath. A
twilight had settled over the scene and the lights from the cabin
windows of the Goliath shone strangely through the dusk of the coming
storm.

Serge and a crew from the Goliath brought the two men from the Neptune
who were ill aboard. Some of them carried a few personal possessions.
Most of them had only the clothes they wore but they were thankful to
have even those.

The last hours aboard the Neptune had been hours of terror with the
constant danger of the ice breaking up and dropping them into the depths
of the Arctic. With rescue at hand, some of them were almost hysterical
with joy. Mathews spoke to Andy.

“I know the Arctic,” he said. “Get out of here as soon as you can. This
storm is going to be terrific. As soon as the last man is aboard, take
off.”

Every motor was running smoothly and easily.

“Stand by for a quick take off and a run before the storm,” he warned
the engineers. “Our lives will depend on you. We’ve got to make time.”

Back in one of the cabins the postal clerks were busy cancelling the
letters which had been the only pay cargo aboard the Goliath on the
polar trip. They were obvious to the dangers of the coming storm and
Andy envied them their lack of worry.

“Everybody on,” reported Serge. “Let’s go.”

“Let’s go,” echoed Andy and the command was flashed back to the engine
rooms. The Goliath quivered to the pulsation of the powerful motors. To
save time, the steel cables with the grapnels were dropped on the ice
and the Goliath shook its nose at the gathering storm as it roared
aloft.

The take-off had not come a moment too soon. The Goliath had barely
turned around and headed south, when the blizzard struck in all its
fury. A dry, biting snow enveloped the dirigible and the lights from the
cabin windows made only faint glows in the sea of swirling white.

With motors turning over at full speed, the Goliath raced due south. But
fast though the Goliath traveled, the storm kept pace. Andy was thankful
for one thing. The snow was dry. It wouldn’t freeze to the sides and
force them down.

The air outside was bitter cold and despite the heating system in the
gondola, a penetrating chill crept in.

“How about the two men who are sick?” Andy asked the explorer.

“It’s flu,” replied Mathews. “They’re over the worst of it but so weak
they can hardly move. However, if they had been exposed to many
hardships, it would have turned into pneumonia and they wouldn’t have
had a chance.”

Bert had managed to send out a flash on the rescue of the crew of the
Neptune and had added that they were running before an Arctic blizzard.
This meager information was relayed by the Hopedale station and for
hours a waiting world wondered and waited for news of the Goliath and
its daring crew. They knew the king of the skies was battling for its
life somewhere in the northland; they knew that its commander was ill in
a Montreal hospital and they wondered at the stuff of which Andy and his
assistants were made. Could they bring the Goliath through the dangers
and rigors of a blizzard in the Arctic?

Radio stations all over the northland tuned their sensitive ears for
some word from the Goliath, but the wall of static had dropped and their
calls went unanswered.

In the meantime, the Goliath was racing south, its motors on full as it
sped through the storm. They were doing a hundred and thirty miles an
hour but the snow stayed with them and the cold was even more intense.

The great ship was running blind. The only direction was south. Anything
to escape the tearing savagery of the Arctic. Serge stood silent at the
controls while Andy went on a tour of inspection. The engine crews were
getting drowsy from their long vigil and he ordered the steward to serve
a hot lunch for everyone.

Andy was in the rear of the Goliath, leaving the last engine room, when
he heard a peculiar whistling sound. A draft of cold air struck him and
he turned quickly toward the tail of the ship, stopping only long enough
to get a flashlight from the engine room. He worked his way along the
narrow catwalk in the tail. The blast of air was stronger. The beam of
his flashlight traced a finger of light through the duralumin girders
and cables which formed and controlled the main elevator.

The light fastened on one section of the right elevator. There was a
great tear in the metalized fabric through which the wind was whistling
in an increasing crescendo. Unless the tear was repaired at once, the
Goliath would be in grave danger of getting out of control for the
opening was growing larger and would soon render the elevators useless.

Andy ran back to the engine room where he telephoned Serge to reduce
their speed to a minimum. The same call brought Bert and Harry back on
the run and another call brought two expert riggers with a roll of the
metal cloth and a can of cement, which they heated in the engine room.

The chief rigger, Mac Glassgow, looked at the rip in the elevator.

“It’s a mean one to fix,” he asserted, “but we’ll do the job.”

“We’ve got to,” urged Andy. “It’s growing larger every minute.”

“An inside job won’t be so hard,” said Mac, “but to make it stick, it
should be patched from the outside.”

“There’s no place to land and do that,” protested Bert.

“I know, I know,” said Mac, “but an inside patch will never hold.”

“You mean someone ought to go up top, lower themselves down on the
outside, and make the patch?” asked Andy.

Mac nodded.

“That’s the ticket,” he said. “I’m a bit too old and stiff or I’d do it
in a minute. The Graf Zeppelin’s crew had to do it one time off the
Atlantic coast in weather about as bad as this.”

“I’ll go up,” replied Andy. “Get the patch ready, Mac. Bert and Harry
will come along to lower me away.”

Andy’s friends protested that it was a foolhardy attempt, but he refused
to listen to them.

“We are all in grave danger,” he said. “The attempt must be made. As
long as you fellows hang onto the rope I’ll be in no danger.”

Other members of the crew were summoned and under Mac’s expert direction
a temporary patch was placed inside the elevator fin. While this was
being accomplished, Andy prepared for the outside job.

A harness of leather straps was rigged around his shoulders and body and
to this was attached a strong new one inch rope. Mac had cut the patch
to the proper size and the cement had been placed in a double bucket to
retain its heat. The motors were turning over just fast enough to give
the Goliath steerage way.

Andy and his two companions ascended the ladder to the rear right
cockpit, from which the commander of the Goliath was to be lowered over
the side.

The wind was blowing a gale that chilled them instantly.

“You’ll freeze to death before you get down to the fin,” said Bert.

“I’ll hug this cement pot,” replied Andy. “All set?”

Andy slid over the side and Bert and Harry lowered away on the rope.
Foot by foot Andy eased down over the smooth side of the Goliath.
Twenty, thirty, forty feet he went out and down. Just below he caught
the glow of light inside the fin and the outline of the makeshift patch
which Mac and his rigger had slapped on inside.

The young pilot sprawled flat on the surface of the fin, arms
outstretched. The cloth to complete the patch was fastened on his back.

With chilled hands he opened the top of the cement pot and seized the
brush. The rip in the fin was about twelve feet long and two feet wide.
Andy slapped the cement on the back end first, shut the top of the pot,
readied for the patch, and put the end in place before the cement had a
chance to cool. The Goliath was drifting through the storm and Andy had
patched the end of the hole which received the greatest force of the
wind.

He worked forward carefully, stopping now to apply the cement liberally,
then unrolling the patch, and moving ahead another foot to repeat the
operation. In the fin beneath, he could hear Mac, the rigger, shouting
encouragement. He needed it. He was worn almost to the breaking point by
the responsibility which had been on his shoulders ever since the
Goliath left the airport at Montreal. Tears froze to his cheeks and he
cried aloud at the pain in his cold white hands. His movements were
mechanical. Slap on the cement, unroll the patch, slap on the cement,
unroll the patch.

Suddenly there was no more cement to put on, no more cloth to unroll.
The job was done. The danger that the fin might be ripped off by the
wind was over. Andy closed his eyes and his numbed hands slipped. There
was a sensation of falling and he knew that he was slipping off the fin
but he was in a lethargy, unable to help himself. He felt himself dip
over the edge of the fin; knew he was falling into the storm and
darkness.

When he opened his eyes half an hour later he was in the warmth of one
of the rear engine rooms. Bert and Harry were beside him.

“What happened while I was on the fin?” demanded Andy.

“The cold got you,” replied Bert, “and you slipped off. Good thing we
had a rope around you.”

“Is the fin all right?” Andy asked eagerly.

Mac Glassgow, the chief rigger who had remained in the background,
stepped up.

“Best job of patching I ever saw,” he exclaimed. “We’ll have no more
trouble with that fin this trip.”

“How’s the storm?” was Andy’s next question.

“We’re running out of it now,” replied Harry.

“Serge just phoned back that the sky was clearing and it is much
warmer.”

Despite Andy’s protest, they made him go to bed, and Harry sat down to
see that their wishes were enforced.

When Andy awoke again the sky had cleared and the Goliath was cruising
through brilliant sunshine. The events of the storm were like a
nightmare.

Serge was still at the controls. He was tired and worn by the long
ordeal, but he smiled happily when he saw Andy.

Bert came out of the radio room with a sheaf of messages.

“I’ve sent out a complete story of our trip,” he informed Andy, “and
messages are coming in almost every minute now. Here’s a couple you’ll
want.” The first was from Andy’s father, then in Washington.

“Have just learned of fine work of yourself and crew of Goliath. I’m
proud of you, son.”

The other was from Captain Harkins. It read: “Great work, Andy. My
congratulations to Bert, Harry and Serge. Many happy landings.” Andy
passed the messages along to Harry and Serge, who read them eagerly.

“You’ve done a fine piece of work in taking the Goliath into the Arctic
and bringing back the Neptune’s crew,” said Harry. “You deserve all the
congratulations.”

“They’re embarrassing,” grinned Andy, “for you fellows deserve just as
much credit as I do.”

“We won’t quarrel over that,” said Serge. “Incidentally, if anyone is
curious, that point of land to our left is Cape Bismark and that rather
inhospitable-looking stretch of ice and snow beyond is King William
land.”

“Which means nothing at all to me,” replied Bert.

“If you could read a chart,” replied Serge lightly, “you’d know that we
are now off the east coast of Greenland, proceeding south by west at
ninety miles an hour with clear skies and a favoring tail wind. Also,
I’m going to bed.”

With motors tuned perfectly to their task, the Goliath sped southward
toward New York, where it would stop to land the crew of the Neptune.
Andy, again at the controls, smiled happily for the Goliath had proved
beyond any question that it was master of the elements—king of the
skies.

THE GO AHEAD BOYS SERIES

By ROSS KAY

  On Smuggler’s Island
  The Treasure Cave
  Mysterious Old House
  In the Island Camp
  And the Racing Motor
  And Simon’s Mine

These stories will appeal to any boy who is imbued with “The Go Ahead”
spirit. Whether on Smuggler’s Island, at Simon’s Mine or in The Treasure
Cave, the boys have adventures that are as thrilling as they are
unusual. The scene of each volume is laid in some beautiful and historic
part of our country. This adds to the interest and value of the stories
and makes them doubly attractive.

The Goldsmith Publishing Co

NEW YORK, N.Y.

THE MUSKET BOYS SERIES

By GEORGE A WARREN

  The Musket Boys of Old Boston
  The Musket Boys Under Washington
  The Musket Boys on the Delaware

Stirring times were these—and stirring deeds made boys into men before
their time.

Against the picturesque background of the revolutionary war, George A.
Warren tells a tale of heroism and patriotism of the boys of long ago
who heard the call of their country and rallied to the colors.

What trials of valor and responsibilities beyond their years comes to
“The Musket Boys” is told in an enthralling manner.

The Goldsmith Publishing Co

NEW YORK, N.Y.

BOOKS for BOYS

THE TIM MURPHY SERIES

By Graham M. Dean

Graham M. Dean is a newspaper editor. He lives and knows how to tell the
romance of newspapering. Tim Murphy learns how to fly at the expense of
the “Atkinson News” because the editor firmly believes some of the
biggest news stories will break above the clouds. Every boy and girl
imbued with the spirit of adventure will want to read these books.

  DARING WINGS
  SKY TRAIL

AIR MONSTER

By Edwin Green

A story of the world’s largest dirigible and of the dangers in the
frozen wastes of the Arctic—a combination sure to provide thrills for
every reader. What befalls this “Air Monster” on the Arctic trip is only
a part of the smashing action of this great book for boys.

EXTRA

By George Morse

Baffling mystery, startling disappearances, roaring presses, etc., the
tenseness of the deadline hour of great newspapers—all these and more
are in this book written by a newspaper man in a style every young
reader will enjoy.

The Goldsmith Publishing Co

NEW YORK

ALL AMERICAN SPORT SERIES

by Harold M. Sherman

Harold M. Sherman, one of the most popular authors of boys’ books, needs
no introduction to the vast majority of young readers.

To boys who like, as every red-blooded boy must, these high type sport
stories, we dedicate this series.

  FOOTBALL . . . INTERFERENCE
  FOOTBALL . . . IT’S A PASS!
  FOOTBALL . . . OVER THE LINE
  BASKETBALL . . . UNDER THE BASKET
  ICE HOCKEY . . . DOWN THE ICE
  BASE BALL . . . STRIKE HIM OUT
  TENNIS . . . THE TENNIS TERROR

The Goldsmith Publishing Co.

NEW YORK

THE OUTDOOR CHUMS SERIES

By Captain Quincy Allen

  The Outdoor Chums
  On the Lake
  In the Forest
  On the Gulf
  After Big Game
  On A House Boat
  In the Big Woods
  At Cabin Point

For lovers of the great outdoors (and what boy is not?) this “Outdoor
Chums” series will be a rare treat. After you have read the first book
and followed the fortunes of the “Chums,” you will realize the pleasure
the other seven volumes have in store for you.

These rollicking lads know field, forest, mountain, sea and stream—and
the books contain much valuable information on woodcraft and the living
of an outdoor life.

The Goldsmith Publishing Co.

NEW YORK