Argosy, Vol. 123, No. 2 — page 78: what you’re looking at

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

he rdareséso J Prony aN, by” Step hen Chalmers Lok of “The Bronze Helmet,” ete. = HAS ALREADY HAPPENED TROOPER in Cromwell’s army, Hallam Brooke, who tells the story, saved Mistress Joyce Eveleigh, attainted as a witch, from Jonas Slythey, dissident preacher, and a mob of villagers. In this he was aided by one Hobgoblin Jack Bunyan, a tinker by trade, and Brooke’s companion in arms, a mighty man of his inches whose imagination, however, had made of him a religious fanatic. hypocrite and a renegade. was interested, an Following his onslaught on the mob, Hobgoblin had exposed Slythey as a Accompanying Mistress Eveleigh was Ruth Prynne, in whom Bunyan “angel,” as he had characterized her to Brooke. Then, following the battle of Naseby and the defeat and flight of the king, Brooke was amazed to find his new-found friend in jail for swearing. And when Giles Bombard, the captain of the troop, had wrestled with Bunyan in prayer te no avail, an exorcist was called in, who proved to be none other than Slythey. Bunyan, however, did not recognize him, but, submitting to his ministrations, was’ made deathly sick by a noxious dose which he swallowed at the exorcist’s order. time, recognizing his tormentor, Hobgoblin emitted a mighty roar. violently against the opposite wall, hurled by Bunyan’s mighty arms. Then, for the first Giles Bombard was flung Then, meeting no willing obstacle from Brooke, Bunyan sprang at the exorcist’s throat with a bellow that must have sprung from the Roaring Devil, which could not be cast out. CHAPTER VI. THE BEAST FROM EPHESUS. O, ye painted hypocrite!” Bunyan roared, bearing Slythey to the floor with him. ‘ Ye shedskin lizard— tis thou!” And then the cell saw a mélée which flung up the accumulated dust of years, a méléee of flail-like arms threshing a squirming person who shrieked for mercy. Giles, recovering: from the shock of striking the wall (which had momentarily stunned him), made a dash for the door and the alley. Down the latter he roared: ‘“‘Ho!—the guard! Here!—Help! The guard!” As for me, I leaned against the wall, laughing most immoderately, and shouting encouragement to Hobgoblin. “ At him, Jack! Pound him, Jack! ’Tis your chance, Jack! Remember the angel he stoned!” Hobgoblin had executed a great measure of punishment—and might indeed have killed the hypocrite—before Bombard came rushing back, followed by the sentry from the alley and the guards from the outer door. They tore Hobgoblin from the bruised object on the floor. Slythey, his clothes gray with dust, his nose bleeding, his whole face a motley of discoloring, stag- gered to his feet and rushed from the cell, down the alley, and out of the lock-up, crying: ‘Heaven help me! Help me! Tis no possession, but the Dark One himself! Help! Help! Help—”’ The outer door slammed on the last wild appeal. I turned to behold Jack Bunyan This story began in The Argosy for July 10. — O@OOLK C@