Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 177 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 177: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Analysis This is running prose text, specifically Chapter XX titled "The Black Dragoons" from what appears to be a serialized adventure narrative. The passage describes a character named Tom traveling south toward Charleston during what seems to be the American Revolution (references to siege, Tarleton, and militia combat suggest this historical period). The text details Tom's journey, an encounter with a wounded militiaman, and his management of a horse drover—including an Indian character named Unaka who controls the animals through mysterious means. The narrative emphasizes the practical challenges of travel: forage supplies, natural food sources, and animal management during wartime conditions.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
CHAPTER XX THE BLACK DRAGOONS Due south, that was all. From Charlottesville to Hills- borough, North Carolina, from Hillsborough to the sea. And there you are: Charleston! Tom wished there had been time to dig up and “tote off” the buried treasure: look to that when they got back to Albemarle. Little did he conjecture how and when the buried gold would see the sun. Before Charlottesville was many miles behind him, he’d heard that Charleston was besieged. Before he was much farther on the road, he met a footsore militiaman who had been in the Monk’s Corner fight — and seen Huger cut to pieces. “Hit’s been three weeks en’ better — en’ I jist see him int? ‘ “Who, man?” “Tarleton!” “What’s he like?”’ But the man who had been “whipped for sartain”’ shook his head and limped on. ‘To a drover on his way to Charlottesville Tom committed a letter for Mrs. Anderson, saying where he was and what he meant todo. This letter was never delivered. The bags of feed brought from the cave were used sparingly ; every creek-bank was knee-deep in spring grass. So much for the horses. As for the boys, fish and game could be had anywhere, and Chickasaw plums grew in every fence-corner. The Indian used his curious power over animals to control the drove. “ Patterroller,” the big white horse, lived up to his name. Tom had seen the In- dian standing eye to eye with the other wild creature, muttering to him in Cherokee, till the beast’s ears were backed, his sides heaving. Then, at a sign from Unaka, CONnNICLMOO® eS (C©) m