Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 135 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 135: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Description This is a page of running prose (page 119) from a Victorian penny dreadful titled "Hornbuckle's Secret." The text depicts a deathbed scene in which a dying man named Hornbuckle reveals to Tom that he is actually Tom's father, confesses to kidnapping him years ago, and discloses a hidden fortune buried beneath a boulder—including forty-seven valuable horses and treasure brought from encounters with Indigenous peoples and Spanish forces. The dialogue uses heavy dialect to convey the speaker's rough character and regional speech.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
HoRNBUCKLE’S SECRET 119 That night Tom thought the poor fellow wandered; but the sufferer was coherent enough. ‘““Hain’t no har-rud heart, hev ye, Tom?’ Ye’ve stood by me, en’ I’Il never fergit ye fer it. Ef any feller hed ever tole me I’d holp out er Anderson—I’d er up en’ spit in his face! Yit, now I’ve got ter whur I don’t hanker atter but one thing in this worl’. En’ that’s ter see er Anderson git all I’ve got. Want ye ter hev ever’thing b’longs ter me! Lemme tell yer — hit hain’t no sorry chance er plunder I’m er fixin’ ter leave ye.” ‘“Hornbuckle, do you know what you are saying?” A fretful groan. “I do. No; I hain’t no kinfolks. Nobody kin claim nothin’ er mine but you. Ye kep’ yer word ter me, en’ [’ll keep mine ter you.” He described a particular boulder in the cedars— not a hundred yards away—a mass of granite projecting above the ground like the prow of some sinking craft above the water. lom was told to crawl under the boulder till his shoulders “tetched thur rock.” “Groun’ ’s dry ez ashes. Dig thur fer whut-all I brung home frum thur Injuns en’ Spaniards. Been clean ter Fort Musa, in Flurdy. Traded, en’ fout, en’ swapped horses fer ten years. Resked my life er hunderd times ter git whut’s buried out yan. Kem through hit all — ter die wid thur smallpox!— en’ make er son er Audley Anderson rich! Cu’ous thing!—ter me!”” Again he summoned himself. “Never knowed, ‘om, whenst I kidnapped ye, en’ chained ye up like er dog, thet I’d done tuk mer own heir pris’ner! Mighty onery way ter treat mer own heir! Cain’t rest till I’ve tole ye everthing. Listen. Forty-seven er them horses ye seed in thur cave — them’s yourn.” “Mine!” Tom fairly gasped. Sho air.” Forty-seven first-rate, well-kept horses! Why, a fellow might mount a troop of horse for the Virginia Army! “How did you come by *em, Hornbuckle?”’ “Bought some; swapped fer some. Ye axed me whur | got thur English mare: fum er sick soldier. I tolled him CORNICLIOO® SS (CO) im