The Child of Waterloo, or, The Horrors of the Battle-Field — page 182: what you’re looking at

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

THE CHILD OF WATERLOO, | 179 «‘ Anescape, by G—d!” shouted the others. ‘Stop him! stop him!” they all three cried out until they were out of breath, and they made desperate efforts to do so. Before they reached the mendicant one measured his length upon the stone flooring, while the next shared the same fate, but the third stood up. ‘‘ Now, then, my lad, I have you,” he exclaimed; ‘‘ you don’t get away from me, at all events.” As he spoke he seized the mendicant by the collar, hut re- ceived such a blow in the eye from the handle of the stick that it made him stagger; and, when at a pace or two’s distance, the mendicant brought down a swordsman’s blow across the head, so that his body immediately collapsed into a heap, as if deprived of life. In another moment the mendicant had opened the wicket-gate and made a dash into the street. The alarm-bell was rung, and soon there were a number of men who were ready to pursue. The mendicant had not time to do more than to pull the gate after him, and then, finding himself so closely pressed, he made a dash toward Smithfield. ‘‘Stop him! stop thief! stop him!” were the cries of the turn- keys, who made desperate attempts to overtake the mendicant, but he had too great a stake on the issue of the race to allow himself to be overtaken by any one, if human exertion could carry him away. He dashed along Long lane into Barbican, and then among some vehicles of one kind and another, until he neared the streets that led to Fore street, and others in that quarter. They came to London Bridge, and when once on the other side the mendicant began to think that there was a probability of his being alone. He paused a moment to look back toward the bridge he had just crossed, but was immediately apprised that he was very closely followed by a hand being placed on his shoulder, and a voice exclaiming: ‘‘T have you, by G—d!” The mendicant saw how matters were. He dived beneath the arms of the captor and rushed full speed down a street to the rigbt, running toward Southwark, where he hoped to be able to shake off the pursuers. They closed upon him very fast, and the mendieant saw that he was likely to be soon inclosed and se- cured, and there would be no escape. Suddenly the thought struck him he might make a dart into some of the old houses and scramble over the roof, leaving his pursuers in uncertainty which way he went. No sooner thought of than dove, and he rushed into a house and closed the door suddenly. He was too breathless to do much; but while he panted for breath, he locked the door. He had no sooner done so than he felt a violent rush at the door, as if some one had en- deavored to push it open. But the officers threw themselves against the door; the lock gave way, and the next moment they were in the hall, where they were met by a woman, who was staring up the staircase, as if frightened at some flying specter. comicbooks. com