Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 165 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 165: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Analysis This is a page of running prose from a Victorian penny dreadful titled "How Tom Came Away" (page 149). The text describes a tense, Gothic scene: Tom and Unaka shelter in a cabin as an ominous storm approaches. A mysterious serpent (earlier coiled in the fireplace) has vanished, and Tom celebrates news of a military victory. As the moon disappears and darkness falls, strange animal sounds emanate from the forest, and someone or something suddenly crashes through the cabin door with violent force, leaving it hanging by a single hinge. The passage blends frontier melodrama with supernatural dread.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
How Tom Came Away TA9 the man who felled the pines for this log pen. Before the blaze in the chimney there, a lean, long-legged, wild-eyed, elemental boy had eaten, dozed, skinned his game, and scoured his rifle. He had come and gone. But there was fatality in him yet! “Whatever he was, he was n’t heart- less. Better a boor than a cold-blooded Solon!”’ And then: ‘Poor Buck Hornbuckle! God knows he had no chance!”’ About an hour before midnight, the coachwhip, coiled up in the fireplace, hissed venomously. Came an answer- ing hiss, — “Tsullakee haujo” (“Cherokee mad’’). Unaka was in the door. [om held his breath to listen. Yes, there it was! The secret, slothful, interminable movement. The serpent was gone! How ‘Tom wrung those faithful hands! — heedless of redskin ethics. [hen came the story of Is-te-pau-pau’s victory over the Tories. Whatamoment that was! “Don’t I wish I could let out a fox-hunter’s holler! You and Troupe have covered yourselves with glory — while I was here snoring!”’ As he might not “whoop,” he filled his mouth with food brought by Unaka, and then announced that he “felt like a fighting-cock.” “Off for Charlottes- ville, my boy!” Unaka shook his head. “ Ho-tul-ul-gee.” “Wind? Who cares for a hatful of wind?” striding to the door. A seething sky; a menacing cloud —tailing earthward. Black, sorcerous, it dangled down in the scimiter light of the setting moon. “If that Thing In- fernal comes this way, we say good-night to this world!” Out of the forest came strange whimperings. Birds and beasts felt the shudder of oncoming demolition. And they bemoaned themselves. A far-off roar was in their ears. The moon was quenched. Thick darkness engulfed them. At the same minute the sound of frantic hoofs was there within an arm’s length. As Tom tried to secure the door, it was rammed. Somebody lunged headlong into the cabin — and the door dangled by one hinge. Had they been drawn CORNICLIOO® <S (C(O) m