Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 86 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 86: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Content Description This is a page of running prose (page 70) from the penny dreadful *Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil*. The text describes a dramatic sequence: a one-eyed cat becomes terrified at a wax image on a mantelpiece and flees into the fireplace; later that night, Tom and an Englishman play chess when they hear what sounds like cavalry outside. Mounted men ride around the house and ring the doorbell loudly, alarming Tom. The passage emphasizes Gothic suspense and mystery, with a servant named Dilsey fleeing in superstitious fear and the protagonists wondering whether a spy approaches.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
70 Tom ANDERSON, DarE-DEVIL put in Tom. “Old One-Eye sleeps on the top beam of the loom — Hello! Look at him!” The one-eyed yellow tom-cat was standing on the black beam of the loom, his tail like ‘a treed coon’s,”’ his single eye glaring with terror. He was staring at the spot on the mantel where, a minute since, was the wax image. Dilsey’s superstitious fears were a-quake. “Whut de matter wid yer? Y’ ole yaller buzzard!” One-Eye, with a dismal squall, leaped to the floor, and —frantic with fright — straight into the fire! His feet just touched the glowing backlog, and up the flue he shot, a shower of soot and ashes pouring down the chimney after him. “Right spang in de fire! Dat cat seed a ghos’ — cyarn’ tell me! I’m a-gwine,” and Dilsey was gone. The following night Tom and the Englishman fought a stubborn fight at chess. It was close upon midnight when the boy lit his candle. “Curious nobody could find that image to-day,” ob- served the officer. “‘Ma’m’selle de l’Isle’s awfully cut up about it.” ‘““Chut! Been losing and finding it half my life.” The other stared abstractedly. “D’ you think there can be a spy about?” “A spy!” gasped Tom. With fused glances they gazed. There was an instant of tense silence. And then Tom whispered, “Hark!” “What is it?” | ‘Did n’t you hear it!’’ faltered Anderson, blowing out the lights. “Yes; sounds like cavalry.” Slipping behind a curtain, the Englishman softly pushed up the sash. In the starlight they could make out the figures of mounted men, riding round the house — and then! The clang of the doorbell. No peal of thunder ever struck upon Tom’s ears with the crash of that bell. Wild with excitement, he appealed to his friend, “What does it mean?” ECOMMICLOOOKSa(eO) m