Darke Darrell, the Boy Detective — page 170: what you’re looking at

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

DARKE DARRELL. fs 161 “He'll stay in the boat,” whispered Darke. ‘He has a few hundred dollars at stake.” The boatman kept up his slow, cautious strokes, the eyes of the occupants keenly bent forward. A dark object loomed up just ahead of them; the out- lines grew more distinct; it was the deserted hulk, half buried in sand and water, leaning shoreward; no light on board, the waves lapping musically against it. Lhe boatman lifted his hand to signal extreme caution, at the same time bringing the boat into the black shadow thrown by the barge, which fortunately was the side which offered the most easy ascent. John Chambers handed the oars to Jeff Potter, MWe clambering noiselessly up the side of the barge, Darke doing the same, and reaching the deck at the same instant. Just then the whole deck seemed ablaze. Tim Jordan was onthe alert. Asan escaped convict he could never know when, how, or from what quarter danger might assail him. He stood in the glare of the light, one foot firmly epic in front of him, a pistol in his hand. He saw Darke Dar- rell, and recognized him. ‘‘Hah! I have you now, my boy!” he cried, with an oath, a fiendish look on his face. As he spoke, he pulled the trigger of his weapon, but it missed fire. Before he could cock it again, both Darke and the boatman had drawn and presented their pistols. ‘Have you?” Darke quietly, yet tauntingly, asked. ‘Raise your arm, and I’ll send a ball crashing through your brain.” ‘Just hand that to me, won’t you?” asked John Chambers. Tim Jordan flung his pistol to the deck with an oath, his teeth snapping in his rage and disappointment. John Chambers placed his foot on the pistol, seized Tim comicbooks-co