Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 174 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 174: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a page of running prose from page 158 of a penny dreadful titled *Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil*. The text describes a mysterious situation where Tom Anderson may be alive despite presumed dead, and a Troupe's daring midnight ride to the Blue Ridge is discussed among crowds gathered around Mr. Jefferson's coach. A mountaineer on a mule approaches Jefferson with an urgent, mysteriously important letter, speaking in dialect, creating suspense about what the letter contains.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
158 Tom ANDERSON, DareE-DEVIL ice in the Kaskaskias than this boy I am about to intro- duce to you.” Thus the Governor, when his carriage was met by a party of his friends — the second detachment of searchers — bound for the mountain. The story of Troupe’s ride was told. It was like the freak of amadman. There was a mystery about the whole business. There was a report flying about that Tom An- derson was alive! ‘They said he’d been seen on the streets! — could n’t be verified, though. But Troupe had not re- turned; nor had one word been heard of the Indian boy. For some reason the Cherokee had gone back to the scene of their victory over the Tories — probably to recover arms they were unable to bring away with their prisoners. Troupe had said they left a lot of arms in the Tories’ Den: told Bob Brevard. “Bob’s trying to arm his re- cruits, you know.” Thus the story was pieced out. “Tl tell you, gentlemen, there’s a mystery in this un- accountable affair!’’ exclaimed an excited voice. “‘ Heard Pratt say he believed events would show that Troupe’s midnight gallop to the top of the Blue Ridge was one of the bravest acts in the history of Virginia. At that, sir, he shut up like an oyster; refused to tell what he knew. Now, what do you make of that?” Iwo or three dozen persons were crowding about .Mr. Jefferson’s coach, greedily giving ear to the story which was a sequel to yesterday’s excitement. One of the lis- teners was a mountaineer on a mule. His saddle was a potato-sack. What o’ that? The roan mule had speed and bottom. It was not till the crowd was dispersing, the coachman asking for orders, that the man on the mule spoke up. “ Thish-yur the Governor er Virginia?” “It is. Can I be of any service to you?” There was a breathless minute, kindled by a pair of eyes like burning- glasses. ‘“Thur’s er letter in hyur. Onwrop hit. Don’t let hit out’n ye hands. Hit’s tre-men-jous important!” Not for nothing had the statesman sounded the whole Gomicbooks (E(0) m