Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 127 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 127: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# The Anderson Blood - Page 111 This is a page of running prose narrative from what appears to be the third installment of a serialized penny dreadful titled "The Anderson Blood." The text describes a violent confrontation between a white man named Egger, a Cherokee warrior named Unaka, and a captive named Anderson. A man (Unaka) descends the chimney during the struggle, fights Egger with a scalping knife, drives him into a desperate flight through the dark forest, and then returns to free the bound Anderson. The passage ends with Anderson rendered emotionally overwhelmed and voiceless upon his rescue, while Unaka grieves upon learning of some unnamed misfortune that has befallen "his white brother."
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
THe ANDERSON BLOOD III up oneeye. But ye en’ me ’ll be even. Beg! Beg fer yer life!”’ he yelled. Anderson’s lips moved ; but no sound came. ~“ Cain’t hear ye,” stooping until his dreadful face was close to the ashen lips. “O God, make me an Indian!” With Egger’s furious oath mingled a panther scream — the warcry of the Cherokees! A man dropped down the chimney; his moccasined feet in the coals. If Egger’s pluck had matched the Indian’s, Unaka would have been at a disadvantage. But Egger was a bully, and the savage knew no fear. Supple as a copperhead, he avoided the slugging blow aimed at him, and struck with snakelike certainty. Ihe scalping-knife slashed Egger’s arm. He charged like a bull; and was cut across the breast. Back- ing to the door, with one swing of the iron he shattered the padlock. ‘he door fell open. He hurled the branding- iron at the Cherokee. A serpent movement of Unaka’s saved his life — though the skin was peeled from his temple. Egger turned to fly. But the knife of Going Snake was in his shoulder-blade. Unaka had no mind to lose that precious possession. ‘The maddest race that was ever run in the dark followed. Through wet thickets, over rocks and logs! ‘The white, be- lieving he was to be murdered, lunged through the trees at the peril of his neck. His head struck a limb. He fell down in a heap. The savage was upon him. The un-English tongue found words: “If you come back, me kill!” In all his life he had never known such elation. Tom was safe. The knife of Going Snake had delivered Emathla. When he stepped through the cabin door again, Jom had twisted himself to his feet. Unaka cut the cords that bound Ander- son’s limbs. Then even the Red Cossack’s nerves crawled. Tom didn’t speak to him! He stretched out his arms to the Cherokee, looked wildly in his face — but no words came. He was voiceless! When Unaka was made to understand the misfortune that had befallen his white brother, his distress was sore. CORNICLOO® cS (C©) im