Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 169 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 169: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a page of running prose from Chapter XIX, titled "Lion-Heart," from a Victorian penny dreadful. The text describes bushwhackers discovering an abandoned underground camp after a raid by militia, and debating what to do with their prisoner, a wounded man named Troupe whom they have mistaken for someone else. The passage emphasizes Troupe's dangerous predicament—disarmed and surrounded by armed men who view him as an encumbrance—and his grim resolve to escape despite the odds against him.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
CHAPTER XIX ‘*“LION-HEART No sooner was the wounded boy breathing and conscious than the bushwhackers set out for the Tories’ cave. They had been on their way to it when they had blundered in the fog. Troupe, reeling in the saddle, they took along. His capture had been all accident. The fog had hidden him, but the whinny of his horse had betrayed him. “Confound old Sally!” muttered poor Troupe. The underground camp they found, of course, gutted. Empty stables, abandoned arms, and, lying just where he fell when Troupe fired, — a dead man. It was impossible to connect [roupe with the fight which had taken place here the day before. His captors believed the militia had raided the camp. In the shock of this disaster — every man, every horse gone, and a dead body left behind! — their prisoner was insignificant, even an encumbrance. What should they dowith him? “Them militia will be back atter them guns. We-uns-es’|l hatter git away fum here!”’ and they looked speculatively at Troupe. After taking his horse and pistols, what should they do with him? They mistook Troupe for Tom. “Hornbuckle’s prisoner’ had “shedded off” rags, pigment, and all. But it was he. Troupe leaned against a tree — haggard, baffled, and beaten. He knew they were dickering over him. “Right here, yesterday, I walloped the beggars—and now—” A conviction smote him through and through. Disarmed, his head swimming, yes! But cooler, bolder work than yes- terday’s assault on intrenched desperadoes was his to do. They might shoot him. But that was not the issue. They had emptied his pockets and taken his pistols — but it must be “shoved through.” CORNICIOOO® <S (C©) m