Judge — December 22, 1906 — page 32: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

SILAS SAGACIOUS DABNEY AND THE UNUSUAL SANTA CLAUS By W. J. LAMPTON. GILAS SAGACIOUS DABNEY was his name. Not that he was a real Virginia Dabney, but that the owner of his father and mother, in the good old days, had been, and he had assumed the name by the imprescriptible right of slave to master. It was Christmas eve and Dabney House was as still within as the white snow that mantled the world without. Silas was asleep in the dining-room as the guardian of the remaining family silver and other household valuables which Miss Euphemia cherished. For a dozen years he had held his night watch undisturbed, Presently a window across the room strained, creaked pro- testingly, then slowly went up and a man came through, The noise awoke Silas and he sat up in bed sleepily. “ Who dar ?” he asked shak- ily, for Silas was not brave in the dark. 9 answer. “Who dar, I say ?" he re- peated, gathering a little cour- age. “Dat you, Santy Claus 2" There was a low chuckle from the man, “Yes, I'm Santy Claus, all right,” he replied; “and you keep still while I attend to business.” There was just enough light for Silas to make out the figure between himself and the window. “ Wha’s yo' reindeers, suh?” he asked with childish curiosity, ignoring the injunction as to si- lence, “ Fotch ‘em in an’ lemme hol’ um while you's unloadin’ de goodies.” He laughedas an eagerchild would, and the man flashed his light and thrust a pistol into the black face revealed by it. “Good Gawd! wha—wha"—Silas began with a scared stutter, when the man clapped a hand over his mouth. “ Now, nigger,” he commanded, “you shut up and get up and help me pack up the goods, or the ghosts will be dragging you through a graveyard in about two minutes.” “Wha—what goods, suh ?” trembled Silas, realizing that his Christmas dream tad become a nightmare. * Aw, the silver and "—— “ Not Miss Euphemia’s silvuh, suh ?* gasped Silas, for whatever was Miss Euphemia’s was sacred, and her silver was the pride of her heart.“ What you gwine ter do wid hit?” Silas might have been a coward on his own account, but never on Miss Euphemia’s. “Going to eat it with cranberry-sauce and stuffing. of course,” chuckled the burglar, punching Silas with the gun,“ Here. get up quick and lend a hand, Show me where the stuff is or you're a gone coon, See ?” Silas shuddered, but he was mortally afraid of shooting- irons, and he acted promptly. He thought of Miss Eu- phemia, helpless in her room up stairs, and even the loss of her treas- ures would not warrant him in alarming her. He held open the burglar’s bag with trembling hands while that worthy tucked away into it everything of value that he could find. At times Silas showed signs of weakening, but the burglar’s pistol was a constant menace and warning for him to be a man. But Silas was gathering strength. His loyalty to Miss Euphe- mia was making a hero of him. He didn’t know what he should do under the trying circumstances, but he felt eager to take any risk. When the bag was filled—or. rather, when every thing mova- ble had been put into it—the burglar ordered Silas to take it to the window, The burglar looked out. The distance to the ground was about five feet. “ Hop out there,” he said to Silas, “and I'll hand the bag to you. I guess I'll take you along a piece with me so’s you won't be turninginanalarmtill I'm ready.” The drive tothe stable led by the window and in it stood ahorse and sleigh not ten feet away. Si- las saw it as he stood up to re- ceive the bag from the burglar, and a desperate resolve entered his mind, The burglar handed out the bag, and the instant Si- las got a firm clutch on it he whirled and dashed for the sleigh. He went in with it, caught the lines and off he went, crouched down to escape what the burglar might send after him, The burglar was out of the window in an instant, and all might not have been well with jas, but the burglar struck the box he had used in getting into the window and feil for- ward. As he rose Silas was dis- appearing around the corner of the house. Bang! Bang! went the gun, but the night was too dark for good marksmanship. Silas, with a yell of terror, went flying among the trees lining the drive to the big road, Miss Euphemia’s head bobbed out of her window with a scream; the cook screeched from her cabin-kitchen, two farm-hands came tumbling out of their quar- ters, the dogs barked, and every rooster in the hen-house crowed with all his lungs. Silas brought up at the nearest neighbor's in five minutes with a shout that had the farmer out in a minute with his shot-gun, and told his story between shivers. They went back in the sleigh, but they found no burglar, though tracks were numerous in the snow of a man running wild > An early train from a station several miles away took a strange Passenger to town, who kept muttering to himself, «The black scoun- drel ! the black scoundrel!” But he gave no name. Silas got fifty dollars reward from a livery-stable man for a stolen horse and sleigh. “Meb- be hit wuzn't debery wust- est Santy Clausdat eb- ber wus;” he said to Miss Euphemia. “ But I ‘spec’ V'se jist as wellsatisfied ef he don’ come ‘roun’ heah no mo'—Crris- mus, ner no time. I sholy am. comicbooks.com