Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 143 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 143: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Description This is a page of running prose (page 127) from a Victorian penny dreadful titled *A Treasure Goes Up in Smoke*. The text presents a dramatic monologue in which a character named Troupe recounts his wartime adventures: discovering his English mare tied at a groggery, stealthily following a mountaineer's cart up a mountain, narrowly escaping Tory soldiers by using a countersign, and eventually finding his way to the narrator's campfire. The passage emphasizes danger, suspense, and narrow escapes characteristic of the sensation fiction genre.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
A ‘TREASURE GOES UP IN SMOKE 127 dark for anybody on the streets to recognize me. Coming through a lane on this side of town, | saw—tied before a mean little groggery — my English filly! Sent her home last September, or October, by an army teamster. Never heard of her afterward. Fellow went over to the British, I reckon.” “No, Troupe, he was drowned.” “What’s that? Thought it devilish strange I could n’t find out what went with the poor chap! Well, one story at atime. [There was betty Martin harnessed to a cart. A Tattersall saddler in harness! A mountaineer came out of the groggery, got into the cart, and drove off. If he had n’t been full of rum, he would have seen I was keeping up with the procession. When it was quite dark I dropped my horse into a meadow, and climbed under the wagon-sheet at the tail of the cart.” Tom’s laugh rang out. “Well, we went on very comfortably for miles. I soon saw we were bound for the top of the mountain; but I meant to have my English mare. Once we were challenged, out of the bushes. When the wagoner gave ‘Cornwallis’ for the countersign, I knew I was in a hornet’s nest. Tories! Short shrift for me, if they found me out. I got out of that wagon more stealthily than I got into it! Took to the tall timber — with a distinct impression that I’d hardly go far without being shot at. Before long an invisible sentry hailed me: “Who goes thar?’ The countersign saved me. At day- break I went to sleep in a thicket. There I hid myself until night came. [hen a smell of smoke in the air: yes, your campfire! I began to reconnoiter. The light on the top of that tulip-tree was the beacon! I approached warily enough, pistol in hand. And I came upon — you!”’ “What did you think, Troupe?”’ “Thought things were more savage and sanguinary than I had expected! Here was a patrol who looked like some- thing between an Indian and a boarding-axe fellow on a privateer. When you hummed ‘Malbrouk’ my nerves all tumbled down round my heels! And a soldier should have neither nerves nor heels, you know. Then you CORNICLMOO® SS (C©) im