Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 1090 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

6 eS Joe was driving his scientific strokes home like a veteran. ‘‘Oh, come an’ see me!” he cried. ‘I ain’t a fighter, but I’m ther most ’commerdatin’ chap in Pheladelfy, an’ I can’t see ye go away hungry. ’T would jest break my heart. Here’s a little chain-lightnin’, jest fer luck!” And then it came to pass that the unknown tumbled back into Flynn’s arms, and stayed there as though he was not on the war-path so much as he was. ‘‘ Go for ’im, my bloomink daisy!” said Flynn, encouragingly. ‘* Not by a durned sight!” replied the boy. ot enough gruel, an’ I’m eep off, you slugger chap; Jubilee Joe, the Chain-Lightning Detective. a ae es eee **T know when I’ve chuck-full on’t now. I cave!” ‘‘Kerrect fer oysters,” good-humoredly re- turned Joe. ‘‘I’m ready ter retire from ther pupilistic arena right now. Fightin’ isan art I don’t hanker ter indulge in, but yer see, when a feller tries ter bu’st my figger-head, I feel it my bounden juty ter chuck him once fer luck,” Probably the other boy thought the ‘‘ luckiest ” and best thing he could do was to take a change of climate, for he only waited to pick up his cap and then left the saloon. He turned two corners, went a square, and then brought up where three men were stand- ing. bogs were Tom Smith, Gibbs and ‘‘ Captain ” Mark. ‘* Well, did you see him?” eagerly asked Tom. ‘* See him!” groaned the boy: ‘‘ well I should smile to cachinnate ef I didn’t. He seen me, too, an’ he walked all over.me. Look at my eye! D’ye see any signs that I’m turnin’ nigger? We had a Marquis o’ Queensberry waltz, an’ that blamed kid wiped ther floor up wid me. See him! You bet your collar-button lac him. He’s jest chain-lightnin’, he is!” ‘* Did he really whip you?” ** He did, boss, fer sure.” ‘* Why, you’re larger than he is.” ‘* Tye s’pose we settled ther question 0’ s’peri- ority by gittin’ onter scales an’ bein’ weighed? Notany. Fistsdid it, an’ he’s seven-eighths chain- lightnin’ an’ ther rest wild-cat. en I fight ag’in I'll tackle a man—no more boy for me.” The men laughed, ‘* Well, wnat didjyou overhear?’ asked Gibbs. ** Nothin’.” ** Nothing? went in?” ‘‘Oh! yas. Leastways the kid was. He was utin’ Brakespeare, or w’otever his name was, ut I didn’t hear you chaps mentioned, ner nothin’ private.” The men looked disgusted, ‘¢ Youre a slouch,” said Tom Smith, ‘‘ and we won't hire you again. Here’s your half-dollar— but wait a bit. Did they suspect you were spy- i ” ‘*Then why did Ae fight?” ‘* Wal, yer see, | tripped him, ’cause I thought he was fresh, but I found he was so ’tarnal salt that he jest put mein brine.” ‘‘ Bah!” said ‘‘Captain” Mark, ‘“ this boy is no good. But, never mind. I’m sure that kid was after us, agd under the table on purpose to hear what was said, but we'll fix him. I want both of you to meet me at *Mother’ Hickley’s, on Locust street, at three o’clock.” Both Tom and Gibbs agreed to be there, and then they moved off. Three o’clock! ‘* Captain” Mark, Gibbs and Smith were seat- ed ina small, none-too-clean room, in company with an old woman, whose features were of a Jewish cast, while herface wasavaricious, crafty and cruel. She was one of that class of women to be seen in every large city, while honest people wonder why Mother Earth can toleratestch a burden. ‘* Yés, my tears,” she was saying, with a nod Wasn't they talking when you : vill and a bob of her vulture-like head, ‘‘ I vill pring | de leetle poy here. It vill please me vell to haf de leetle tear in my house—I do so love leetle ys. I vill pring him, an’ den you can smother th vith a billow, like Othello did Desdemona,” ‘‘But how’lt you get him here?” asked Tom Smith. ‘‘ Neffer you mind, my tear/I vill do dot part f all right.” ? Trust ‘Mother’? Hickley for that,” inter- rupted Gibbs. ‘ Let us, rather, look to our own work. ‘Captain’ Mark, how does your job come on?” ‘At. I have sent a decoy telegram to the real Andrew Allan, whose ship has just reached New York, signing the message ‘Mrs, Brad- ford.’ That'll bring Allan here. In fact, [have ee ee eee SO received a tel from our ally in New York, stating that Allan leaves by an evening train, and I am going on to Trenton, meet Allan’s train there, return on it, find Allan and drug him, and then wecan get him to one of our safe places and do with him as we will.” ‘* How the dickens are you going to drug him on the train?’ asked Smith. 4 oung man, when you’ve floated around the world as long as I have, you’ll be up to more tricksthannow. How? ell, we’llsee. Ihave cigars which will make him who smokes them insensible; also, drugged wine and other pir Trust me for that. Ill rope in Allan all right s ‘ Mother’ Hickley can attend to that cursed oe, ‘* My tear,” said theold woman, ‘‘shust you let ‘Mother’ Hickley alone. She haf a petter head than any von off you, an’ she vas a cut-tooth sharper afore you vas got out off your cradles,” This retort caused a laugh, and the conversa- tion continued, covering more fully the points of ‘‘ Captain” Mark’s plot, but developing nothing new, Tom Smith finally arose, stretched himself and walked to the window. ‘* Hallo!” he suddenly exclaimed. ** What is it?” ‘‘Come hers, Gibbs, and you, Mark. I'll be shot if here isn’t that boy, just getting out of a cab, big as life. Yes, and he’s got his eye on this house. Carefully! Keep a little back, or he’ll see you.” ‘“'Yes, by the fiends!” said the ‘* Captain,” ‘‘ that’s Joe, and this proves our suspicions cor- rect. He’s on our track, swre, and the dickens is to pay.” ‘T know the driver, too,” said Gibbs. ‘‘ He’s the same man who took the girl away from the depé6t. By George! the boy'is onto the racket, red-hot!” ‘‘Yes, he’s not only got us down fine, but he’s found out where we stop. He’ll have the police after us, sure as fate.” ‘‘Nefer you mind, my tears,” said ‘‘ Mother” Hickley, bustling about. ‘‘The fat ain’t in de fire yet. I told you I vould haf dot poy, an’ Pll doit. Ill gather him in like von lost sheep—de tear leetle lamb!” ‘‘Can you do it sure?” eagerly asked Gibbs. ‘‘ My tear, ask me dot question six dimes more an’ den geep your mouth closed. VenlI say I ather de tear leetle poy in, I mean shust vot I say!” CHAPTER) VI. [BY CHARLES MORRIS. ] A POINT IN THE GAME, AFTER leaving Johnny Flynn’s saloon, Jubilee Joe returned to the railroad station at Thirty- second and Market streets, where for several hours he was busily engaged in an enterprise of no little importance. This was—a search for the cab that had carried Laura Murray away from the station, and which he knew bore his mark in the shape of a long nail-scratch. But his search proved unsuccessful. The cab was not to be found. Along toward the middle of the afternoon he went up to the exhibition grounds, for he knew that more vehicles were to be found there at that hour than at any other point in the city. Outside the grounds things were almost as gn as inside the huge main building which lifted its lofty towers into the clear afternoon air. Shantytown was alive, with its shows and its ‘* saloons,” while the gateways of the exhibi- tion were crowded with eager sight-seers, forc- ing their way in a steady stream through the turnstiles. On the border of this busy scene stood Jubilee Joe, with his face of unwashed impudence, calm- ly surveying the excited throng, and perhaps debating with himself whether he could not find some way to get in on the strength of somebody else’s half-dollar. As he stood there. looking on, and debating within himself what to do, a cab rolled rapidly up to the curb, stopped, and a gentleman stepped out. Joe looked at him. He had surely seen that personage somewhere before, though he could not at first remember where. He was about to take a closer observation, when his eyes were arrested by something else, that set him in a state of the utmost surprise and delight. From where he stood the rear of the cab was | visible, and on it he had observed a long, ugly scratch. He recognized it in an instant as his own handiwork. Jubilee sprung forward on the instant, quite forgetting the gentleman in his eagerness to question the driver. **Say, Jakey, don’t you want to make a two- oe) dollar bill this afternoon?” he demanded. ‘That’s all ’ve got in bank, or ’d make it a three.” ‘‘T’m always on hand. What do you want? A drive?’ ‘‘T want to take in some p’ints about a drive. *Bout two o’clock this A. M. you druv’a young lady into town, from the Penny Railroad sta- tion. Guess you won’tforgit that. There was a coon of a feller with her. I’m sent to hunt u that gal, and I'll guv’ you a double-barrele bank-note if you'll say where you planted her.” ‘‘ How do you know I took her?’ asked the driver. ‘¢ Cause I reckernize your cab. I never for- git a cab I’ve once seen.” ‘** You recognize’ the scratch you made on it you young rascal! You’re the chap I whip off on the bridge. You want me to tell you something, do you? Just hold on a bit and V’ll try and accommodate you.” e snatched his whip and sprung to the ground in a rage. Joe stood his prone He had no idea of run- pins away. The cabman angrily approached m. ‘* Hold up, there!” It was the gentleman who had just landed from the cab. He had been looking at Joe with an inquiring glance. ‘*See here, boy,” he demanded. ‘“ Didn’t I see you yesterday in company with a Mr, Al- lan, in an insurance office at Fourth and Chest- nut? ‘¢Got it, now!” cried Joe, slapping his knee. ‘¢Knowed I knowed you. You’re the vice-presi- dent of that Co.” “ Just so. Now, will you tell me a thing or two? Whois that Mr. Allan? Where did you meet him?” ‘¢ You don’t quite freeze to him, then? You be- gin to think he’s a beat?” ‘¢T must confess I was too hasty in insuring his life. I begin to think he isa doubtful char- acter. If you can put me on his track [ll make it worth your while.” ‘¢ He’s a dead beat, Mr. Vice-President, I kin tell you that. An’ I’m the qhap that’s got him ona horn. You'll pay he Sf [ fotch him up standing?” ‘** Indeed I will.” ‘Then make this galoot answer my question. Fur it’s aad Allan I’m arte”, an’ no mistake.” ‘* Answer him, my man. I will pay you the money he offers.” ‘tT ain’t enough to mend thai ’ar scratch,” an- swered the cabman, sullenly. ‘‘Then I'll make it enough. Now answer.” ‘¢ Well, then, I drove first to a house on Lo- cust street. There the pair got out. But they asked me to stop, and in five minutes they got in again, and ordered me to drivo to Bainbridge street. There they got out again, and dismissed O’Neill’s saloon?” . How do you know that?” ‘‘ Never mind how. Could you swear that th’ pair that got on at Locust street was th’ same as got in ag’in?” ** Of course they were. I couldn’t be quite sure.” ‘¢ What was th’ number of that Locust street house?” ‘**T don’t know.” ‘¢ Could you drive to it?” éé Yes,” ‘*'Then I want you to drive me there, double- quick. And, Mr. Vice-Presideut, I want you to ay ther shot. ’Cause it’s meat into your pot. ork over, and pile me off, fur there’s no time to lose. ‘¢ What are you after?” ‘¢ Tell you another time. Ef you’re goin’ ‘to back me up in this, fork over.” The vice-president looked in Joe’s face and saw that he meant business. Without a word more he handed the cabman a piece of money. ‘¢ Take him wherever he wants to go. Report to me, boy, at my office.” ‘Ay, ay!” said Joe. ‘‘ When I git ready,” he repeated to himself, e next minute he was in the cab and driv- ing rapidly toward the Girard-avenue bridge over the Schuylkill. Jubilee Joe had taken many a ride on the tail- end of a carriage, but this was his first inside ex- perience, and the young street Arab thoroughly enjoyed it as he lay back on the softly-cushioned sea a It was dark, though, t. ‘Talk *bout yer hoss-flies! If this ain’t gay and lively I don’t know nothin’ bout greens,— See here, Billy Butcher, wouldn’t ye like to take a ride this nice day in my mince-pie barouche?”’ The question was asked of one of his boot- | DOO! COMIC S