Penny Dreadfuls, 1869 · page 4 of 20
The Bandit Queen: A Tale of Italy — page 4: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Penny Dreadfuls, 1869. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
‘Zz 3k, comrades! take what you caL be off, for y We are in danger here!” | ian on the pround now groan |’ Ishouted, as if patting bo | hoevily ani seemed to make 3) feeble at the villains |tempt to get up. In a mome Wai t la: | etree! over him, with 6 | discharged my revolver | | his breast. I felt son ething’warm and sing thus to frighten the | wet, and Knéw it was his blood. "He pro- My: ruse BHP ORRAES, and, much | bably had been shot and might be dying. O mys 9 rascals all fled at| ‘‘Villains!” he now « pxclaliaed im pe my wh }lan, evidently supposing On coming up to the carriage, I found | the oP PEPE “fake all \ we have, k uv the door open and a man lying on | the | “ am. a friend , come to assis ground and groaning. The ¢ iriver was | [I saidin Enclish on his seat, with the réins in his and I fancied was looking on to be honest himself, | to hear ‘What is all this, sirrah?” I exclaimed | ‘ton nee, © in Italian. | “You have been assailed by some cov- “His excellency resisted, and I'm afraid | ardly riluias and I fear maneerene ther. oe or fair antods $i aed 3 I. my iteat neo hoe have culled va replied the | hurt; but they all 1 the robbers have. man on the box. and “Well, it seems you at least made no | servi resistance!’’ returned I, rather sha Ply. | “No, your excellency, I am af and know better than to polit the brig. | | ne ‘Sir,’ 7 ” pone 2 I, pe Be ete of ands,” coolly replied the fellow. | will charitably suppose you are Bos aware | I was about to tell him I thought him | of the insult conveyed in your language, one, but changed my mind ana asked.’ | —or, in other words, ‘that you “do not. “WE 1 is this = le | know what you are saying eee ee ‘An Loglishn our exce “Bless : my soul, I believe reat . DO muttered, ‘‘for my heads sings like a te: | kettle. Ah! I’ve a wound io my bre: ae te find.’ st ft as quick « as : possible!” said iL, p | aci gm Is there not a Indy Here? | arms Ur der his and assisting him : 0 ri ‘eard a fe lg po get 1 ito ite carriage, Ww riven into the olty with all vs wes very ‘still: