Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 1090 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

Jubilee eee ee Murray to pe J play her game, You've got the real Laura safe?” ° Well, I should smile, If she gets out of old ‘Mother ’ Hickley’s hands before I give the wink theu a seven-yearer can walk out of Cherry Hil al, inonth’s notice. I ain’t the sort of fellow that makes blunders.” At this moment some other customers entered the room, and the voices of the speakers fell. The landlord returned at the same moment, an- other person following him into the room. As may be imagined, the boy under the table had heard this conversation with deep interest. He was fast getting hold of the thread of the mystery that had so far puzzled him. ‘*There’s the gents as wants to see ye, Mr. Hallan,” said the landlord. Joe started. So they were to have an inter- view with Mr. Allen? Greetings passed between the three conspira- tors. They seated themselves at the table be- side which Gibbs and the ‘‘ Captain” had so far been standing. ‘Take a swig, Tom—Andy, I mean.” ‘** Don’t care if I do.” Joe recognized the voice of the lately-insured man. ‘* And now, let us have itin a nut-shell. Did it work? Have you hit the mark?” “| reckon. Twenty thousand risk, and-—” ‘Hush! There are ears about. blazes is this under the table?” He had stretched out his feet and brought them in contact with Joe’s person. ** Feels like a dog,” said the ‘‘ Captain,” ** Kick it out! Confound the lazy brute!” ‘Old up, there!” cried Johnny Flynn, the landlord. * Don’t you kick that dog! I don’t ‘low nobody but me to kick that dog. **Get him out of here, then! e don’t want no dog under our table!” He gave a slight kick. It was followed by a low growl. Joe had taken the hint. ‘‘The man that kicks that dog kicks me!” cried Johnny, angrily, **Let ’im halone. He hain’t doin’ no ’arm,’ The men subsided/ They continued their con- versation in a lowtone. Joe, his ears muffled by the cloth, could only catch a few words of it. He made out that they were laying plans, and judged it was some scheme to beat the insurance company, but he could not catch its points. He also discovered that the ‘‘ Captain” had pro- duced the documents stolen from the hand-bag of Laura Murray. As far as he could make out they seemed to be composed of letters and a oe of diary, giving many events in the girl’s life. Some few words, however, came clearly to Joe’s ears and gave him a hint that told much to his quick brain. ‘Sally must study these papers,” said Gibbs. ‘¢She will want to know what she has been do- ing all her life. Then with the letter she received at Pittsburg she will be ready to go to Mrs. Bradford’s. To-morrow she must arrive there— from the train, you know.” A significant laugh succeeded these words. The ‘ Centath ” thrust his feet carelessly for- ward. And then he cried out sharply: ** Whosays that’s a'dog? It’s a human of some sort, Pll take my oath to that!” He started up, and snatched up the mug and the glasses. ** Upset the table! There’s a spy under it!” No sooner said than done. he table was hastily overturned, and revealed the form of Joe. He was doubled up in an odd attitude, one arm flung over his face, A volley of curses came from the conspirators. ‘* Kick him over! Snatch him up and let’s look at him! Is the young hound asleep or shamming?” Joe seemed in fact to be sound asleep. Even a rough thrust from the foot of the ‘‘ Captain” only brought a groaning sound from him. He rolled over on his face, and lay motionless, The landlord hurried forward. ‘‘What’ave ye gotthere?” he asked. the dog, then? Why, ’ang me if it hain’t that little mutton-head of a Joe Buster. Best let him be. When that boy goes to sleep he means biz. Ye might has well try to wake hup a railroad sleeper, and be done with ‘hit. Hey there, Joe; stir yer lively trotters!” He rolled the boy back and forth with his foot- but with no more effect than if he had been roll- ing a bag of potatoes. “You see’ow hitis. You could shoot*im out o’ a seven-pounder through a brick wall, and.’e’d snore right on.” . The men-looked down on Joe fora minute, and then turned away. It’s done, Ha! whatthe oT ain't Joe, the Chain-Lightning Detective. ‘IT bet ’d wake him up, if he was my boy,” declared the ‘‘ Captain.” ‘** What’s the use? He’s more out o’ the way hasleep than ’e is hawake.” The conspirators turned away. They had fin- ished their conference. Joe had played ’possum too well, it seemed, for them to doubt him longer. Paying for their liquor, they walked out of the saloon. One eye of the boy opened slyly to follow them out. But he did not movea finger until sure they were well out of hearing. ‘*Come, boy, that jig’s hout. jolly Joseph.” The boy opened his other eye, and then sud- denly sprung to his feet, dancing a hornpipe on the sanded floor. ** Don’t you never say I don’t know sharps from flats! °*Kase if-you do [ll plug yer eye!” ‘* What’s bu’sted, boy? i twigged them chaps wasn’t deacons. But, what’s their dodge, and what are you hafter?”’ ‘‘Tm arter them, like a nigger arter ‘lasses! They’re coons, from th’ word go. Reg’lar rip- stavin’ circus Operators, as kin turn six somer- sets round a sweet pertater. But you bet Ju- bilee Joe ain’t no slouch. I’ve salted ‘em lively, I have! An’ if I don’t open their eyes wider than a toll-gate aforelI give up th’ job, then you kin kick this rooster into ther middle of next Wn ‘*Stop™pour wind-mill, Joe, hin the wind.” ‘*Has that Andy Allan took a room here?” ‘Ks done that same,” ‘Then I want you to watch him, lively. Come, Pll let.you into th’ game. It’s about th’ ugliest bit o’ sport as [ve ever hearn tell of.” Joe proceeded to tell to the wondering land- lord what he had discovered, under a strict promise of secrecy and aid. CHAPTER V. [BY MAJOR E. L. ST. VRAIN.] JUBILEE ‘‘ CHUCKS HIM ONCE FOR LUCK.” ‘“My heyes!” exclaimed Flynn, when he had heard all of Joe’s story, ‘‘ this’ere his a musty go! Hi’ve been twenty hodd years hin this ’ere ratontgt f han’ Hi never ’eard the like hov hit be- fore. is’posed there wasn’t no crooked work hin Hamerica.” ‘*That’s whar you’re clean off yer horizontal perpendiculum,” replied Joe, ‘Ef you’s ter squander part o’ yer inheritance on ther newspa- pers, you'll git onter more crooked bizness in a week than Nero-Napoleon, king o’ ther Philis- tines, ever dreamed on.” ‘But don’t the papers lie?’ asked Flynn, thoughtfully. ‘* Hive ’eard so.” ‘* They lie! Ther papers lie? My innercent frien’, with ther London fog still hangin’ to yer ambrosial locks, [reckon yer don’t know a flea- blown, full-blooded American reporter. Why, ef you so much ez mention Joshua I[scariot— you’ve heerd o’ him, ain’t ye, Johnny —ter a reporter, he blushes red cl’ar up ter his gills, But that ain’t ther pint. W’ot d’ye think o’ this hyar scheme they hev got in project?” ‘* Hit’s a nasty job.” ‘* Ye’re right, fur mustard-plasters. But d’ye spose itll work?” ‘* My heyes! yes. Ho’ course hit’ll work, hun- less the perleece stop hit.” ‘“Ther p’liece??, Go hide yer diminished head, Hold Henglish Hale! Ther coppers can’t stop nothin’. But, dye see me?” Joe thrust his thumbs,into the arm-holes of his vest and struck an attitude. ‘¢ Hi’m ha-lookin’ hat you,” Flynn replied, ‘* Tye observe ther lurid light o’ genius a-flash- in’ from my eyes?” The saloon-keeper laughed. ‘* Hof course, me boy.” ‘¢ An’ ther swellin’ muscles o’ my Herculean figger?’ ‘** Certain.” ‘¢ An’ ther lectric sparks that shoot from my Samsonian locks o’ ha’r?’ ** To be sure.” ‘Wal, this ’ere is me—Jubilee Joe, E-squire, ther prize-beauty o’ 1876, an’ ther liberty hoss- chestnut o’ 1776, brought down ter future ages, preserved in alcohol, or English ale, or some sech devastatin’ fluid, An’ I’m ther game-rooster that’s goin’ ter tackle them schemers an’ shake Pheladelfy dizzy, for I’m the Chain-Lightning Detective. an’ don’t you fergit it!” ‘“’ Vou!” ‘* Mu! Spell it with big letters. Make it look like a circus-board, afore ther spring-freshets git arter it. Mr!” ‘* Why, they'll heat. you hup.” ‘*They won't eat me.up, ner down. Git hup, my Let’s "ear what's *Ka’se o _——-— - oe SS eee why? Pine-apples ain’t eat till they’re shucked, an’ | can’t be shucked. No, sirree, not any fer Jubilee!” ‘* Yowre ha plucky little rat.” ‘*D’ye take me fura rat? Does my classical profyle remind ye o’ a rodent? Not much, it don’t me! I’m a blue-blooded gladiator, right from Rome byway o’ ther cable, an’ ’m a holy terror ter ther unwashed.” Here Joe sprung forward and seized Johnny by the neck, tragically crying: ‘* Ha! villain, I have thee by ther throat, an’ blood hez got ter gush fer all it’s wu’th. By my halidom, Pll cleave yer head with my bright blade an’, oh! how like sin ther Henglish hale will flow! Wal, let her flicker!” Then Jubilee shot backward and began to dance in a style which would surely have made him a favorite on any stage. He was as light-footed as a professional who commands the honor of a double recall. In the mean while, another boy had entered the saloon, and was loitering around quite close to Joe. The new-comer was not by any means orna- mental, He wasa street Arab, and of a degree not an honor either to the street or the Arabs. His face was that of a ‘juvenile ‘* tough,” and moreover, an ignorant and unprepossessing face in every way. If Jubilee Joe and Flynn had not been so bus they might have suspected this illustrious yoru was trying to spy upon them. He was certain- ly taking a good deal of trouble to get near them, but, as chance would have it, he had not arrived until the conversation became wholly light and irrelevant. The boy, who was a trifle larger than Joe, had never seen the latter before, but he at once took a dislike to him, and when he saw this double- shuffle, he felt a desire to break it up. ‘*Durn ther young bloke!” he muttered, ‘‘ he thinks he’s all Pheladelfy an’ a corner lot in Jer- sey. I don’t’low no sesh gutter-pigeon ter put on airs whar J be, an’ I'll jest make him sick.” He thereupon worked around back of Joe, an evil light in his eyes, Joe did not notice him at all, and the good- natured Englishman had barely glanced at him, Thus it came to pass that as Jubilee Joe spun around, another foot was suddenly thrust in be- tween his, and Joe went down with a crash. He had been suddenly and maliciously tripped, e was on his feet in a moment, but when he came up his desire to dance was gone, He looked at the other boy with an ominous light in his eyes. fs By ther way,” he observed, ‘‘ do you wanter dance?” ‘* Wot ef I do?” belligerently asked the intrud- er. ‘‘ Ef I do, I shall.” ‘* You may ef you don’t wanter, but one thing 6 kin set down as Gospel fact—you can’t dance in my set, ner tread on my toes, ner twist yer letter-Z legs up in mine, Not by a gol-blasted sight!” *T can’t?” **No, ye can’t!” ‘*See yer’, don’t ye give me no chin, or Dl knock ther roof off yer head!” goared the un- known youth, ‘‘ No, yer won't. ‘’*Kase why? Ye can’t epell a-b-l-e in English, French or Choctaw.” The larger boy threw off his jacket and began rolling up his shirt-sleeves, Aa ‘‘Oh, keep that caliker down,” airily advised Joe. ‘Ye ain’t tooken a bath sence Billy Penn laid out Pheladelfy, an’ even yer dirty shirt is an improvement over sech crooked arms ez bc acne i'Lhe big boy uttered another roar and rushed forward belligerently, bis fists sweeping the air as a chambermaid goes for cobwebs, but Jubilee leaped lightly to one side, and, thrusting out his foot, neatly tripped his enemy, who fell with a crash. «This ’ere is ther time | foller suit,” coolly ob- served Joe, ‘*but next time (ll play a trump. Keep off, or I'll be chawed by fleas ef I won't ehuck ye once, jest fer luck.” It was a fair warning, but the big boy was not to be thus checked, He was mad from his dilapidated shoes to his red hair. He made another rush. This time Joe did not try to avoid him, ard the two met like young gladiators, much to the delight of Flynn, Still, hewas afraid Joe might ‘‘ vet left,” being the smaller of the two, and he waddled around the bar to stop the fight. When he got there the boys were so mixed up thatit was hard to tell one from the other, but by dint of close survey he discovered that the unknown was wasting his blows on the air, while. | 900 cS COMIC com