Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 110 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 110: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a page of running prose from the penny dreadful *Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil* (page 94). The text is an Irish-accented narrative account in which a character describes how a Cherokee man named Unakerr agrees to pursue someone (apparently "Tom") who has been taken to New York, and how the Governor of Virginia provides him with a pass and gold guinea for the journey, while a horse named the Gray Goose—belonging to Tom—catches the Governor's attention at a blacksmith's shop.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
BA hr Tom ANDERSON, Dare-DEVIL hev captured the b’y, an’ they ’ve taken him off ter New York! Phwat do I care fer me peg-leg?’ sez I. ‘J’// take the trail.’ “But Unakerr steps up, pointhin’ at the ould hoe-handle thot props up me knee. ‘Unakerr!’ sez he, his eyes loike two live coals. ‘Will you go, b’y?’ sez the Governor. The Cherokee nods. ‘Whin?’ Redskin lays his hand on the door. Well, wid thot His Honor seemed much holped up. A horse an’ money would be provided, he said. Unakerr shook his head. Where he must thravel, a horse would be a hindrance, money no help. So the Governor requests him ter take a goold guinea for Tom’s use, an’ writes a pass- port ter say that the bearer, Unaka Nung-noh-hut-tar-hee, was the courier of the Governor of Virginia and under the pertection av the Commonwealth, an’ so foorth, an’ so on. ‘Now, me b’y, ate,’ sez I, ‘while I see afther the cattle.’ “His Honor wint wid me ter the blacksmith’s shop, an’ there.’s the Gray Goose (who ilse?) all slathered wid mud an’ mire, but purthy ez the Queen av Spain. She takes the Governor’s eye, intirely. ‘I hyurd yez had the foinest sad- dler in the whole country, Mr. Carr,’ sez he. “No sich luck, Yer Honor,’ sez 1. ‘The mare belongs ter Tom.’ “Indade?’ sez he, waitin’ fer more. But no more wuz comin’, bedad! I loses mer win’ — an’ he’s wan would be scornin’ ter ax questions whin ans-thers hangs fire. He rides away, grand as the Lord Mayor av Lunnon; an’ whin I goes inther the cabin, there ’s but wan head in the pot av pease — an’ that wan ’s Bryan’s. Unakerr wuz gone.” ECONMMIECLOOOKSn(e©) m