Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 1004 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

o—_ 4 men and wheelwomen were going in both alirections. They were not numerous, however, for Amsterdam is not so good a speedway for bicycles as the boulevard or West End avenue, the next thoroughfare to the mest. There were enough for the Scorch- er’s purpose, however. That is, when the man he was after turned around, as he presently did, he saw nothing to alarm him, for his pur- suer was only one of several wheelmen and did not seem to be making any espe- cial effort. Further back, on the hill where he had started, he saw quite a crowd. As soon as the man looked ahead again, Sam let out speed and crept up. He wondered where he had seen the man before, The face he had seen somewhere, and recently, but evidently it had not im- pressed itself upon his memory to any great degree. Still, he had seen the man somewhere, ar one who looked like him, and he won- diered who it could be. He meant to know, if he could gain a little more ground before the fellow took alarm, At 18list Street the man turned to the left. Hither a knowledge of the city, and a definite idea as to where he wanted to Zo, or, 22¢c more likely, as Scorcher Sam believed, the beautiful pavement of the bridge had caused him to turn, Washington Bridge, beginning just here, has a pavement as smooth as a floor. As he turned, the man looked back, Sam was now close upon him, coming at good speed, and the fellow took the alarm. | The bridge was almost clear, having but few persons on it at the time, and the man, with a look of alarm, applied himself to his pedals with vigor, and was off like a shot. The Scorcher buckled down to the pur-, suit. He had discovered that the wheel he was on was a speedy one, but he knew, of course, that it was not equal to his own. If this stramger was near his equal as a rider, then the chance for overtaking him on that mount was slim indeed. Nevertheless, Sam meant to keep him in sight, at least. It was as he feared. They had gone but a little. way when Sam found his own wheel was gaining and that he was being left in the rear. He pedaled “for all he Was worth,” but.it was of no use, and he knew it, so he called out for the fellow to stop and surrender, or take a bullet. The threat, however, only seemed to increase the other’s efforts to get away, and he went spinning along over the smooth bridge floor at a' rate of speed he had probably never attained on a bicycle, for, as explained in a preceding story, the wheel was a special, made to order. Hundreds of my readers, doubtless, tJhave never seen New York, and hence have no idea of Washington Bridge. It is 2,400 feet long, to say nothing of the approaches, and is 80 feet wide; hence it fis an excellent place for a trial of speed —when the police are not on hand. The height of the bridge is 135 feet above tide water. Seeing that no notice was taken of his command, further than to show in- tention of defying it, the Scorcher fired a shot—fired in the air, of course, But the only effect was to spur the fel- Jow to greater effort. It caused the few pedestrians on the bridge to stop and stare, and awakened ‘their interest immediately, of course. Evidently the man felt confident that Sam would not fire at him, taking the risk of killing some one else in doing so, for he certainly showed no signs of stop- ping. Sam shouted once more, and _ fired again, but the man bent lower on the wheel and gave no heed. Just then Sam saw another wheelman coming in the opposite direction. He recognized that other at sight, and, at the same instant, remembered where he had seen the face of the man who had appropriated his wheel. These two men looked very much alike, so much so that, meeting them apart from each other, Sam would have found it difficult to say which was which. Seeing them together, he might distin- guish them easily. Sam fired again, and motioned for the on-coming wheelman to intercept the (man he was pursuing. Although only a few moments had elapsed since the man in the lead had turned onto the smooth bridge pavement, yet they were already nearly across. The wheelman coming from the op- posite direction saw the signal and evi- dently understood it, for he proceeded to put himself in the way of the flyer on the detective’s wheel, who shouted for a clear road. The other dismounted and signalled him to stop. A glance back showed him Scorcher Sam bearing down upon him, and not only so, but now a policeman, who had suddenly appeared from somewhere, was also shouting and motioning for him to stop, and stop he did. He slackened his speed suddenly, leaped off, and ran for a stairway that was near at hand leading down to the street far below. CHAPTER IV. SCORCHER SAM SLIGHTLY PUZZLED. Policemen are a grand institution. It is difficult to imagine what a city would be without their controlling influ- ence. At the same time, they are only human, and far from being infallible, and it now and again happens that one of their number makes a mistake when his in- tention is all right. The policeman in this instance made a serious mistake. He thought the two coming from the west side of the river were two scorch- ers trying the merit of their wheels on the hard and smooth bridgeway. Having just come up from below, he had not seen the shooting, and if he had heard the shots at all could not tell from what direction they came. He took the fellow coming from the east side for an officer in citizen’s dress. With this misconception, he braced himself in the form of an X and mo- tioned with his club for Scorcher Sam to stop. He meant to make a capture. “Out of the way!” shouted Sam. “Catch that other fellow!” ‘‘Stop!” yelled the officer. ‘‘ You are riding out of speed, and I am going to arrest you! Stop!” This Sam was forced to do, or take the ris of a broken neck; so he slacked his speed immediately, but at the same time called out: “That other fellow stole a wheel! I am after him! I am a bike cop in citi- zen’s dress! ”’ | “Stop a bit till I see what ye are,” ordered the policeman. Sam had to stop, but, the moment he was on his feet he showed his badge, saying: | ‘““Confound it! you are allowing that fellow to get away from me! Scorcher Sam’s Sweep-Stakes. Il am one of the police force myself! After him, and see if you can’t scoop him in. He stole my wheel!” “ Well, how was I to know?” demand- ed the officer, a little crestfallen over his mistake. “If you had been in uniform, with your badge in sight, I would ’a’ known ye,” “Yes, and so would he. Here, mind these bicycles, if you are not going to chase him. Wait here a minute till I come back, Mr. Dixon,” to the other, who had just then come up. “All right,” With that, Sam made a dash for the stairs, which wound by easy stages down to the street. Once below the body of the bridge, he looked this way and that for the man, but he was nowhere to be seen, and Sam wondered where he could “,;ave disap- peared to so quickly. ~ome inen were working among the grass plots and flower beds around the bridge abutments, and he called out to them: “ Hello, there! ”’ They looked up at once. “Did you see a man running down here a minute ago?” *““No, sir,” one answered. “Do you see a Man anywhere around there now, dressed in a mixed gray suit?” They looked all around. “No, sir,” the spokesman shouted again. “Well, it is deuced queer,” said Scorcher Sam to himself, running down to the next turn for another look. The man was not to be seen, however, and so he gave it up. lle was out of sight, and would make good his escape with as little loss of time as possible. The scorcher returned to the bridge, The policeman had picked up his wheel and was examining it. It had suffered no damage beyond th2 fact that the fall had turned the handle- bars slightly. “T would give a V to have caught that fellow,” he said, as he opened his tool- bag to get out his wrench to straighten the handle-bars. “And I would have caught him the same as I caught you,” said the police- man, “if I had been just a little sooner. He was past and you were comin’ when I came up on the bridge.” “Ags it was, you succeeded very well in letting him get away from me.” ‘Well, don’t blame me too hard; I had no way of knowing.” “Tt can’t be helped, anyhow.” ‘‘ Who was the fellow, anyhow?” asked Dixon. “T do not know,” answered Sam, “ but this I do know: That he looked enough like you to have been your twin broth- ’ +B “T thought niyself that he looked like somebody I have seen before,” admitted Dixon, witha smile. “The first I know, you will be picking me up for him, and running me in.” “You will be lucky if some one else don’t pick you off first, making the same mistake,” intimated Sam. “ How is that?” “A fellow is gunning for him, with blood in his eye.” Dixon seemed to be interested, and took the statement in a serious frame of mind, as Sam thought. “That so?” he queried, “ Whois it?” “A ghowman up near Fort George,” who calls himself Cactus Bill.” Dixon started, “You mean that?” he demanded. - “Of course I mean it. He would have * es ——* TT tat