Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 168 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 168: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Analysis This is a page of running prose (page 152) from a Victorian penny dreadful titled "Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil." The text describes Tom and Unaka's escape from a mountain hideout with captured horses and British weapons, intending to reach Charleston and join Marion's scouts. The passage emphasizes Tom's exhilaration at freedom and their bond ("whatever comes, we'll pull together"), then ends with a cliffhanger: as they descend the Blue Ridge with nearly fifty horses, their companion Troupe is suddenly seized by bushwhackers. The narrative appears set during the American Revolutionary War era, referencing Sumter, Clark, and the Swamp Fox.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
152 Tom ANDERSON, DarE-DEVIL Troupe and Unaka had captured only a part of the Tory gang — those in the cave. When the others came to the underground camp, and found it raided, they would “run off” the horses in hurry. “We'll beat ’em to it!” And Unaka’s grunt came from the pit of his stomach and the bottom of his soul. Tom was wild with the joy of liberty. “Haudjo!” as Unaka said. The blood of eagles was mounting through his veins. His gaunt face was luminous with vitality. The wide, wide world had got into Tom. They would go straight through the country, to Charleston. They’d see Sumter, and Clark, and the slippery Swamp Fox. “ How would you like to be one of Marion’s scouts, ehr’’ Unaka’s eyes flared. “Whatever comes, we'll pull together.” They made the most of the setting moon and the dap- pled dawn. Though loath to leave that pile of arms in the cave — British steel of the best make — to be recaptured by the outlaws, they had no choice. Time was precious. Before sunup the thing was done. They were on their way down the mountain with no mean drove of horses, ‘Tom riding Betty Martin, Unaka an unbridled stallion as white as an Indian peafowl, and as bad to bite as a bulldog. And as these two, armed to the teeth with British steel, descended the eastern slope of the mountain with nearly fifty horses, on a western shoulder of the Blue Ridge, above the Valley, Troupe had been seized by bush- whackers. EOLRNICLOCOKSq(6O) m