Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 210 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 210: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil This is a page of running prose from what appears to be a serialized adventure story (page 192). The text depicts a tense dialogue between a young character named Tom and a man named Roderick McIntosh, written largely in Scottish dialect. Tom refuses to drink to the King's health, claiming the monarch is not his sovereign, which provokes McIntosh's anger—though he becomes impressed by Tom's courage and honesty. Tom reveals he is seventeen years old and fought at the Battle of King's Mountain, apparently for the American side. The passage ends with McIntosh gripping Tom's hand after hearing his full story.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
192 . Tom ANDERSON, Dare-DEVIL I abstain from drinking His Majesty’s health because he’s not my sovereign. This, Major, with all possible respect to yourself. God knows I’m no ingrate.” “Daur-Deevil! My ward for’t ye are weel named. Ye hae daured mair this minute than ony ither mon wad do. If I had na takken ye under my ain roof, I wad na hae stayed my hand. The mon that winna drink His Majesty’s health wi’ Roderick McIntosh maun tak tent 0’ himsel’!” “You yourself would spurn me for a truckling knave did I drink the health of an enemy. Where is the man would dare ask you to drink ‘Success to Washington’? Tell me!” “T1?d stick my dirk in him.” “That I believe.” “But sic a like talk aboot His Gracious Majesty! Ill wards — ill wards 1’ Chairleston!’’ — opening the door to make sure no eavesdropper was outside. He pointed to the threshold, “Lie thou there, Luath,”’ and when the dog obeyed, and the door was safeguarded, he came and stood eye to eye with this daring spirit. “Ye are Tomispys. “No. I was brought here against my will.” “No a half-breed?”’ Tom whipped off his blanket. “If my back is not as white — by rights — as Sir Atneas’s brow, run your dirk into it!” The stout spirit, the honesty of the boy, had captivated McIntosh from the start. He could not withstand the “blade-straight, steel-true” fellow. But he knew the situa- tion was charged with danger. Very gravely now he en- joined ‘om to “mak a clean breast o’ t.”” ‘Tom did. He was interrupted but once: “You Sumter’s aide? Ye are little mair than a bairn.”’ “There are plenty of bairns in the Southern army, Major. I was seventeen last October; and had the biggest birthday doings any American ever had: the battle of King’s Mountain.” When his story was done, his hand was gripped by McIntosh. Eomichbooks (E(0) m