Spring-Heel'd Jack, The Terror of London — page 203: what you’re looking at

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

SPRING-HEEL’D JACK: “Whew !” whistled Jack. “ Spring-ouns and traps are there. I did not think of that, or I should have been tempted to cross the corn-field, and make for the road, instead of coming here. There’s danger whichever way I turn.” ‘ “There he be, measter,”’ said one, pointing out Jack to the farmer. ~ Hi, you, sir!’ cried the farmer. “I tell you it be no good trying it on with us. Just you take my advice, and come here. We mean to have you, and give you a sound drubbing. So you better take it, and go quietly.” “ You mean to take me, do you ?” cried Jack. “We do.” “Then come and do it, if you dare,” was Jack’s retort. “That will I,” cried the stalwart yeoman, dashing forward on the instant towards where our hero stood. “Doan’t, measter! doan’t! He’ll take thee,” cried the countrymen, who could not believe that Jack could be other than his Satanic Majesty himself. Jack suffered the farmer to approach him, but when he got within arm’s length he struck out a heavy blow, which, resting on the farmer’s _ cheek, brought him to a sudden stop. Taking advantage of the confusion of the farmer, and the dismay of his followers, Jack dashed away, keeping. a good look out for traps. _ The yeoman, however, quickly recovered him- self, and, smarting with pain and indignation, he immediately gave chase, calling out as he ran— “Stop! you damned rascal, and I’ll give you blow for blow. Stop! you coward, and give Ia chance to lick you.” 7 At the word coward, Jack stopped and turned ; he could not bear the imputation on his courage for one moment. “Look here, farmer,” he cried. “If you will send back your men, I will give you satisfaction for that blow.’ . “ Tl see you damned first, and I’ll give you a drubbing in the bargain,” exclaimed the enraged man, making a dash at Jack, and clutching him round the waist. “ Now I got you; and, man or devil, I'll sive you as neat a throw as ever you had.” But the farmer had counted without his host when he looked on an easy victory over Jack in a wrestling bout, for no sooner were the words out of his mouth than he was lifted from his feet, and flung fair over the head of our hero on to his back. A shout arose from the men, and one and all dashed towards him, brandishing their weapons. “Hold!” cried the farmer, staggering quickly to his feet, and motioning them back. “He’s eained the first throw, but there’s not a man in the county can beat me.” “But he ain’t a man,” cried the yokel. “T’ve beat every man as tried a bout with me, and if he be the devil, dang me if I don’t beat him too.” ) é Again he flung himself upon Jack, but passion had blinded him ; and this time our hero, who was cool and collected, grasped him by the shoulder and the hip, and summoning all his strength, hurled the farmer several feet from him, ee OT COOO i ee ee THE TERROR OF LONDON. LE ss 205 The yeoman did not fall, but as he madly dashed forward for another trial, he was brought to a sudden stop, and the click of a trap mingled with a loud ery of pain from the farmer’s lips. ~ Trapped in his own trap!’’ cried Jack, who instantly perceived what had happened. “ Dang ye all! let me out! ” cried the farmer, furious with pain. His servants rushed forward to obey, and Jack, taking advantage of the confusion which reigned around, sprang towards the point where he had entered the preserves, and reached it ere anyone could intercept him. ‘Stop him!” roared the farmer. “ No—dang him! let him go. For if he warn’t the devil I could have broken his back.’’ : Such were the last words that Jack heard as he hurried away, and he was not long ere he had crossed meadow and corn-field and regained the road beyond. CHAPTER LXXI. THE BALLET-GIRL AND HER FRIENDS—THE ROBBERY. THE season was over, and many of the disciples of the drama and the ballet were thrown out of work, which, to the greater portion of the pro- fession, meant nothing less than starvation. To the poor ballet-girl the want of an engage- ment is often a very serious thing, though most of them follow some other occupation than piroutting around the stage on their toes to the delight of thousands. Seamstresses, ironers, bootbinders, laundresses, and such like, generally compose the ladies of the ballet —not the principal danseuses certainly, but their less accomplished sisters who fill up the stage. : There has been a great deal said against this class of females, but a good deal more than is either just or true. Their detractors are many, and their friends few. The respectable matron looks with disgust upon the skirts and fleshings, and there are few mothers of a family who would take into their service the unengaged ballet-girl; hence this class, when the theatres are closed, or the panto- mime season is Over, are compelled to resort to occupations which are terribly toilsome and sadly paid for. So it was with Mildred Hendon, the unfortu- nate dupe of the libertine, Clavering. The shock which the discovery of his perfidy had given her, though it did not lay her upon a sick bed, brought upon her a sort of dreamy melancholy, from which, at the slightest sound, she would start and tremble. Every farthing she could scrape together had been spent in obtaining her wedding garments, but after discovering how basely she had been treated, this fnery—the first she had possessed for years—had to be pawned for the means to obtain food for herself and mother. Believing in his promises, and at the instiga- tion of her deceiver, she had thrown up her engagement in the corps de ballet, and as her place had been instantly filled up, she found | CS7G@