The Young Apprentice; or, The Watch-Words of Old London — page 163: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

as - a o _ , Vs THE YOUNG APPRENTICE; OR, by this deed ; say that you will not aid me and I will seek aid elsewhere.” ‘‘T would rather have nothing to do with it,’ said Maxwell. ‘ And J thesame,” echoed Silas. “Good,” growled the villain. “ Be itso, I would rather be without the aid ofcowards. I will see to this job myself. I will wait on Pon- der’s Bridge and fire at them as they pass. One at least shall not escape me.” So saying, he quitted the room, and passed out into the night to make a survey of the vicinity. I€ he thought that he would be enabled to concea! himeelf in the darkness he was much mistaken, for it was early dawn when he saw the approach of two horsemen along the wind- ing road. The place he bad chosen for his ambush was a bridge which had been thrown over a small stream and was composed of rough stones and timbers. Here and there among the heavy piles were good places for concealment, and he was enabled to hide himself completely by ensconcing him- self behind a great black beam where a hole in the wood seemed formed as if were on purpose to receive the barrel of his treacherous Weapon. On came the unsuspecting pair. Eagerly, carefully the murderer watched his prey, his guilty heart beating high with malice and hate. Standing there, he was a hateful sight to see ; his face ghastly pale, his nostrils distended, his mouth half open, his bloodshot eyes glaring. He was the very impersonation of malignity and hate. Yet why did he thus wait in ambush ? Why did his eyes glisten as he watched the approach of the armourer and his apprentice ? In days gone by, there had been terrible ill blood between the armourer and the man Howlctt. A fair face had been seen by both, and had cast its loving glance on one only. Death had laid its icy fingers on her heart long, long ago, but still the hate and rivalry was strong in the mind of Howlett the trooper. He hated Leslie because those eyes had beamed upon him; because those lips had breatbed into his ears their latest aigh ; because those arms had clasped him in their last cold embrace. Suspecting nothing, the two horsemen rapidly approached the bridge. As they did s0, there was a flash and & report, and Harold's horse fell beneath it, Howlett had missed his aim ! The shot intended for the armonurer’s heart had struck down the steed of the Young Ap- prentice. In an instant, as Harold rolled over helplessly on the ground, the trooper rushed forward. ‘Ha, ha! friend Howlett!” cried Frank Leslie, as the assassin approached him. “ Ha, ha! Itis you, isit? We will make short work of you !" Ag he spoke, he sprang from his horse, and cried out to Harold, who had now risen from the ground, “Here, Harold, hold my horse, and I will give you a lesson in sword-ptay,” With these words, he drew his long and flash- ing sword, and swung its gleaming blade round his head. “Come on, Howlett. You were ever a malig- nant viper, I will rid the world of you now !" The trooper was no coward, but he saw his disad vantage. ‘Villain {| I am no match for you !” he cried, ‘You are two to one !” The armourer laughed loudly. “‘ Ho, ho !” he exclaimed, ‘“ Have you so far forgotten Frank Leslie, that yeu fancy he needs aid in fighting with.one man? My apprentice here, will render me no assistance. I have promised him a lesson in sword-play, and I will give it to him. The best point in the lesson will be when I thrust my weapon through your heart, and atill its malignant beatings for ever |’ “It is not yet done !” cried Howlett, furiously, inflamed now more than ever by the sight of the man whom he lcoked upon as his rival and enemy still, “Comeon; we have no time for ta fal The contest now began. Howlett rushed forward furiously. His deadly hatred, which had slumbered so many years, had been aroused fully, aud he thirsted for the blood of his adversary as the tiger thirsta for the blood of his natural foe, the on. On! merrily clashed the ateel ! How brightly flashed the blades in the morn- ing eun as it broke over the silent landscape, gilding alike the waters of the stream, and the tree tops, and the still meadows, and the forms of those who fought to the death en the banks of the purling brook. The armourer was in brilliant spirits. He knew his foe to be an assassin—he had seen the evidence of his dastardly cowardice, and he felt a glad feeling at the prospect of ridding the world of such a man. “IIo, ho!” he cried, as a sturdy blow de- scended on the trooper’s shoulder and disabled hia left arm, ‘‘ho, ho, Master Howlett, that is one towards the amount! That is a good point, Harold; observe it.” *‘ Villain, my right arm is still left!" shouted Howlett, in a voice rendered shrill with pain. Still more furiously now fell his blows—=atill more cautious became the armourer. At length, as the bleeding of the wound be- gan to make him grow more weak, he staggered forward, and, taking immediate advantage of this, the armourer drew back his sword and plunged it up to the hilt in the body of his enemy. “ This,” cried he, turning towards Harold, “this is a good point in fencing |” Glancing in the direction in which they had come, they saw two men running at full speed towards them with drawn swords. “fla! we have more work, Harold,” cried the armourer. ‘ Well, well, there are but two to two; and I fancy I have just given you a good lesson with the sword.” “What have we here?” cried the first man, as he arrived at the epot and saw the body of the trooper Howlett lying grim and ghaatly and still on the ground. “ A dead man, as you see,” said Lestie, GOVE OO © —~ t