Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 170 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 170: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a page of running prose from a Victorian penny dreadful titled "Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil" (page 154). The text depicts a tense confrontation between a character named Troupe and Tory guards, where Troupe claims to have information that could save condemned men's lives and leverage to prevent executions. When threatened with a pistol, Troupe maintains his composure and moral authority, speaking of volunteers and his promise to spare lives. The passage emphasizes Troupe's courage and integrity under mortal threat, employing melodramatic language and dialect to convey the high stakes of the scene.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
154 Tom ANDERSON, DaRE-DEVIL “Hello, guard! How much to turn me loose? If you'll trade this minute, I’ll pay for liberty.” They stared and whispered. “Trade with you-un-ses atter while. Git er bounty fum the redcoats fust!”? — thrusting out his tongue. “Tisten! I’ve a communication to make to the Gover- nor. It will save the necks of the Tories that were jailed last night; 2f it 7s in tume !” “Whut ye talkin’ bout?” It was an ominous growl. “The Governor of Virginia does n’t know the terms of surrender. A word from me will keep them from the gal- lows.” ‘Whut do you-un know ’bout it?” Troupe shrugged. That shrug was in the De Berrien blood. “They surrendered to me.”’ “Ter you-un?”’ And with the bellow of a stuck calf the outlaw was on his feet. “I'll blow er hole through ye fer hit!” Eyeing the muzzle of his own pistol as it was brought to bear on him, Troupe retorted, “Governor’ll be ahead of the game — nineteen to one!” The Tory stared; swore horribly. “Ye air lyin > 49? “Tf I liked lying, why did n’t I hold my tongue — and let your fellows swing?” And now the two Tories looked bewildered. ‘I promised their lives should be spared. I shall be a liar if I don’t make my word good.”’ There was a panting silence. “Wuz hit thur militia thet tuk; emty A queer look crossed Troupe’s face. “Volunteers.” There was another pause. No man would invite instant death, as he had done, for nothing. So much they could make out; but no more. Had the boy been shot to death, his splendid valor would have flamed forth to no eye save his Maker’s! It was a deed to emblazon the banner and shield of a knight. The sun gleamed on the pistol-barrel in an unpleasant fashion. The sweet-gums shuddered. Eomichbooks (E(0) m