Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 132 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 132: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page 116: Running Prose from *Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil* This is a page of running prose narrative from a Victorian penny dreadful. The text depicts a confrontation between Tom (the protagonist) and a man named Egger, whom Tom threatens with violence, invoking smallpox to drive him away. Egger flees in terror, pursued by Tom. Later that night, a Cherokee Indian named Unaka arrives at Tom's campfire bearing news from home, though he has no word from someone called Oxheart. The passage emphasizes melodramatic dialogue, physical danger, and emotional intensity typical of the genre.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
116 Tom ANDERSON, DarRE-DEVIL Mg EU cies ‘““Humph, talk like ye air master hyur!” Egger’s sunken, filmy eye was “like a rattlesnake’s in August.” “Tam. I am absolute.” “Ye won't halt me.” “I dare you to go one step nearer that shack!”’ “Do? — do ye—”’ taking out his knife. “T do. Stand back. Hornbuckle’s rotting with smallpox in yonder!” “Ye air lyin’!”’ | “T ought to have two more of your teeth for that. In- stead’? — twisting off his wisp of shirt — “I'll snowball you with this. You ’Il be like him — and even the carrion crows won't tote you off!” Bellowing, Egger fled like a madman. “Run for your life. Coward! Liar! Traitor! Murderer! —]|’m after you!’’ Like another madman he pursued the horrified overseer. Egger was in no condition for running; but he ran till he dropped. Screaming for mercy, he squirmed on the ground. “You make me sick. Begone!” Directly the sound of galloping hoofs smote through the solitude. ‘Tom drew a sobbing breath. “Oh! It was a devilish temptation!” That night, while he mended his campfire, Unaka stepped into the brilliant light from the blaze. ‘Tom sprang to his feet, and pointed a shaking finger at the cabin. The Indian pointed, in turn, at himself. “‘Poose.”’ He ’d beena victim of the pestilence in childhood. Queer! with flesh like burnished copper. No time for speculations, this! News from home!—and Tom poured out questions. but the Cherokee had been on long journeys afoot — in search of Tom. “Heap trails.” He was without tidings from Ox- heart. He had never left the mountain since he discovered his friend. ‘God bless your soul! Did you think I’d gone crazy when | ran from you?”’ Came a luminous look in the crude eyes. GomicbookstGo m