Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 63 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 63: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page 47 of "Stalking a Ghost" This is a page of running prose from a Victorian penny dreadful. The narrative depicts a dramatic scene in which a character named Dare discovers a wounded British cavalry officer, Colonel Tarleton, collapsed in a church pew. A French girl named Mimi rides for help while Dare remains to tend the officer, giving him water and loosening his stock. The passage ends ominously with a wolf's howl echoing through the darkness, creating suspense about an impending danger.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
STALKING A GHOST 47 Mimi was now nearly beside herself with fright. ‘Tarle- ton the lerrible! “What is the matter?” she implored. For answer he dropped down fainting in the old high-backed pew. Next instant Mimi was out of doors. ‘“There’s some one there!”’ she panted; and she poured out her story to Dare. It was the terrible British cavalry officer. But yes; Monsieur le colonel Tarleton! Truly! Badly wounded; without doubt. He would die! Even now he might be dying! They must bring help. Quick! Quick! Dare thrust the reins into the French girl’s shaking hands. ‘Mimi, drive along the road as fast as you can, and send the very first person you see here. Oh, he may be dying — while we lose time here. I’Il stay by him till you come. Afraid? I’m not afraid of Tarleton! Be brave, and I will be brave too.” Distracted with fears, Mimi obeyed. Dare ran to the spot where the wounded man was. He lay slumped among the pew cushions. Ah, what if he were dead? But no! He breathed, groaningly. Bold moonlight kindled his face and figure. His features were fine and clean-drawn. His fair hair still kept a trace of powder. There were pistols at his belt. On the floor lay a sword. Tremblingly she un- fastened the stock that compressed the blood in his neck. There ought to be a pitcher of water in the vestry. There was! She came back with it, moving through the moonlight like a spirit. Gently she lifted his head, and put the pitcher to his lips. Oh, poor, parched lips! “Drink, Colonel Tarleton.” “Who told your— The Americans shall never take me!” hoarsely. elorink,”’ Greedily he drank. His head sank back. Staring straight in her tear-filled eyes, he muttered, “Go away.” The minutes were like hours. By and by a sound —a horrible one. The hollow dark echoed to the howl of a wolf. Dare’s heart stood still. What bloodthirsty beast was upon them? CORNICOO@ CS (C©) m