Bound to Rise
OR
Up the Ladder
BY Horatio Alger Jr.
THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING CO.
AKRON, OHIO NEW YORK
MADE IN U.S.A.
About the print version
Bound to Rise, Or, Up the Ladder
Horatio Alger, Jr.
Saalfield Publishing Co.
Chicago
1900
"Don't worry about me, mother, I'll get along somehow."
PREFACE
We print the following story from Horatio Alger, Jr., ``Bound to Rise,''
hoping it will reach as many boys of the present day as it did those of the
past, and inspire them to work for success, as did the hero of this story.
And *notice that *honesty is always the key to any endeavor. Harry Walton and
Luke Harrison were two country boys who had the same opportunities to achieve
success.
Harry Walton by his efforts succeeded, and Luke Harrison's life was a
failure.
Read this story and you will see what qualities in the one brought about his
success, and what in the other caused his downfall.
Chapter 1
CHAPTER I.
THE FARMER'S HOME.
``Sit up to the table, children; breakfast's ready.''
The speaker was a woman of middle age, not good looking, but nevertheless she
looked good. She was dressed with extreme plainness, in a cheap calico; but
though cheap, the dress was neat. The children she addressed were six in number,
varying in age from fourteen to four. The oldest, Harry, the hero of the present
story, was a broad-shouldered, sturdy boy, with a frank, open face, resolute,
though good-natured.
``Father isn't here,'' said Fanny, the second child.
``He'll be in directly. He went to the store, and he may stop as he comes
back to milk.''
The table was set in the center of the room, covered with a coarse
tablecloth. The breakfast provided was hardly of a kind to tempt an epicure.
There was a loaf of bread cut into slices, and a dish of boiled potatoes. There
was no butter and no meat, for the family were very poor.
The children sat up to the table and began to eat. They were blessed with
good appetites, and did not grumble at the scanty fare. They had not been
accustomed to anything better.
They had scarcely commenced the meal when the father entered. Like his wife he was coarsely dressed. His wife looking up
perceived that he looked troubled.
``What is the matter, Hiram?'' she asked. ``You look as if something had
happened.''
``Nothing has happened yet,'' he answered; ``but I am afraid we are going to
lose the cow.''
``Going to lose the cow!'' repeated Mrs. Walton, in dismay.
``She is sick. I don't know what's the matter with her.''
``Perhaps it is only a trifle. She may get over it during the day.''
``She may, but I'm afraid she won't.''
``What are you going to do?''
``I have been to Elihu Perkins, and he's coming over to see what he can do
for her. He can save her if anybody can.''
The children listened, and, young as they were, the elder ones understood the
calamity involved in the possible loss of the cow. They had but one, and that
was relied upon to furnish milk for the family, and, besides, a small amount of
butter and cheese, not for home consumption, but for sale at the store in
exchange for necessary groceries. The Waltons were too poor to indulge in these
luxuries.
After breakfast Elihu Perkins, the ``cow doctor,'' came. He was an old man
with iron-gray hair, and always wore steel bowed spectacles.
``Well, neighbor Walton, so the cow's sick?'' he said.
``Yes, Elihu, she looks down in the mouth. I hope you can save her.''
``I kin tell better when I've seen the critter. When you've got through
breakfast, we'll go out to the barn.''
``I've got through now,'' said Mr. Walton.
``May I go, too, father?'' asked Harry, rising from the table.
``Yes, if you want to.''
The three went out to the small, weather-beaten building which served as a
barn. It was small, but still large enough to contain all the crops which Mr.
Walton could raise.
They opened the small barn door, which led to the part occupied by the cow's
stall. The cow was lying down, breathing with difficulty. Elihu Perkins looked
at her sharply through his ``specs.''
``What do you think of her, neighbor Perkins?'' asked the owner, anxiously.
``I think the critter's nigh her end,'' he said, at last.
``She looks like Farmer Henderson's that died a while ago: I couldn't save
her.''
``Save my cow if you can. I don't know what I should do without her.''
``I'll do my best, but you mustn't blame me if I can't bring her round.''
``I know you can save her if anyone can, Elihu,'' said Mr. Walton.
``Yes, I guess I know about as much about them critters as anybody,'' said
the old man. ``Have you got any hot water in the house?''
``I'll go in and see.''
``I'll go, father,'' said Harry.
``Well, come right back. We have no time to lose.''
Harry reappeared with a pail of hot water.
``That's right, Harry,'' said his father. ``Now you'd better go into the
house and do your chores, so as not to be late for school.''
Harry would have liked to remain and watch the steps which were being taken
for the recovery of the cow; but he knew he had barely time to do the ``chores''
referred to before school, and he was far from wishing to be late there. He had
an ardent thirst for learning, and, young as he was, ranked first in the
district school which he attended. Since he was nine years of age, his schooling
had been for the most part limited to eleven weeks in the year. So it happened
that Harry, though a tolerably good scholar, was deficient in many respects, on
account of the limited nature of his opportunities.
He set to work at once at the chores. First he went to the woodpile and sawed
and split a quantity of wood.
After sawing and splitting what he thought to be sufficient, he carried it
into the house by armfuls, and piled it up near the kitchen stove. He next drew
several buckets of water from the well, for it was washing day, brought up some
vegetables from the cellar to boil for dinner, and then got ready for school.
Chapter 2
CHAPTER II.
A CALAMITY.
``The critter's gone,'' Elihu Perkins said. `` 'Tain't no use doin' anything
more.''
``The cow's dead!'' repeated Mr. Walton.
``Yes, the critter's dead!'' said Elihu. ``It was so to be, and there wa'n't
no help for it. That's what I thought from the fust, but I was willin' to try.''
``Wasn't there anything that could have saved her?''
``If she could a-been saved, I could 'ave done it,'' he said. ``What I don't
know about cow diseases ain't wuth knowin'.''
``I s'pose you're right, Elihu,'' he said; ``but it's hard on me.''
``Yes, neighbor, it's hard on you, that's a fact.
What was she wuth?''
``I wouldn't have taken forty dollars for her yesterday.''
``Forty dollars is a good sum.''
``It is to me. I haven't got five dollars in the world outside of my farm.
Somehow it don't seem fair that my only cow should be taken, when Squire Green
has got ten, and they're all alive and well. If all his cows should die, he
could buy as many more and not feel the loss.''
``Squire Green's a close man. He could give you a cow just as well as not. If I was as rich as he, I'd do it.''
``I believe you would, Elihu; but there's some difference between you and
him.''
``Maybe the squire would lend you money to buy a cow. He always keeps money
to lend on high interest.''
Mr. Walton said: ``I must have a cow, and I don't know of any other way, but
I hate to go to him.''
``He's the only man that's likely to have money to lend in town.''
``Well, I'll go.''
``Good luck to you, neighbor Walton. Well, I'll be goin', as I can't do no
more good.''
Hiram Walton went into the house.
``Is she dead, Hiram?'' asked his wife.
``Yes, the cow's dead. Forty dollars clean gone,'' he said, rather bitterly.
``Don't be discouraged, Hiram. It's bad luck, but worse things might happen.
The house might burn down, or -- or some of us might fall sick and die. It's
better that it should be the cow.''
``You're right there; but though it's pleasant to ...
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