Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 118 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

“* Bet a goose I know you,” said Will to as he rose to his feet. ‘‘ Won't there be ructions when I let the cat out of the bag! Guess the 'coons are all treed now. t’s the news, Joe?” “*No ” said the latter, who had approached on seeing Will rise. ‘‘They’re all lambs my side of the house. What's your luck?” “Four foxes,’’ said Will, pointing to the gate. ‘““ There's their hole,’’ he continued. He indicated a window in the second story, in which a light had ep appeared. A curtain inside eame down to within an foch of the bottom. ** Want to follow it up?” asked Joe. “If it’s in the wood.’ ** Let’s shin it up that shed, then. We can climb like squirrels. It’s risky, but if there's anything in it we ain't afeard of = “I’m your hoss,’’ was Will's sententious answer. There was no one in the street just then. The shed came down nearly to the fence. Climbing to Will’s shoulders, Joe was inan instant on top the fence. In a second more he was stretched flat on the low shed. This evolution was not so easy for Will. He had nobody’s shoulders to climb from. After loo round irresolutely for a moment, a bold thought came into his head. He ete the gate a crack and glanced into the yard. It was gre Gl Not a second lost Will. A barrel stood beside the fence. One quick leap and he was on top. A light 6q motion and he was flat on the shed. Joe had meanwhile crept to the window and was jooking in. ‘** What luck?’’ whispered Will, as his companion dro his head, ** Bully!” replied Joe, in a like tone. ‘‘The whole four are in, and Joe Prime with them. Jist worm up this way, and take a squint.” CHAPTER XVII. GUARDIAN AND WARD. JENNIE ARLINGTON’S sorrow had worn off, and had been re by a sentiment of anger and bitterness of spirit. That aman like John Elkton should be seized asa common felon, a man of the purest char- acter and unstained reputation to be thrown into prison on a bare suspicion, seemed an utter outrage, She was in no mood to appreciate the reasons for this arrest, or to consider the very dubious position in which his refusal to explain placed him. She was oo at his character with eyes of love, and it vexed her that the world was blind to what seemed go evident to her. She was angry with her guardian, with the officer, with Mr. Wilson, with every party concerned. Even the unoffending bow shared in this resentment. She would have taken it from her dressing-table and trampled it under foot, but on looking for it it was gone. This discovery increased her resentment, Mr. Leonard, then, had entered her room, possessed himself of her lover's last gift to her, and intended to use it with the hope of convicting him of robbery. She had been e and pt these last few days. He had desisted from asking the cause. He knew it too well, and shrunk from an encounter with grief which he could not relieve. To-day she was red and blooming, and he ventur- ed to fae ee her on the favorable mies, Y ‘lam glad to see your color coming back agai Jennie,”’ he said. ‘‘ You begin to look like your ol again. I could not bear to see you so cast down as you have been for some days past.”’ “I do not think it could have troubled your mind very deeply,’’ she replied, in a bitter tone. ‘* Why do you say hat, Jennie?” was his surprised rejoinder. “You know that no father could feel more tenderly toward you than I do.” ““I know that no stranger could have done mea Gagner wrong than you have done,”’ she replied, look ing m straight in the eyes. Such language seems to me utterly uncalled for,” he answered, with a deeply-pained look. “Why have you thrown John Elkton into prison?” was her unflinc reply. “Tt could not avoided, Jennie. You should know that. He is found with apiece or stolen goods in his sion. He refuses to tell where he ob- tained it, The law holds such a man guilty, and so does common sense. Iam very sorry to have wound- ed you, but could not act otherwise. If he is inno- cent, why is he silent?” “You know he is innocent," she ag A replied. “There is nothing you know better. He is incapa- ble of such an action, and you knowit. If I alone knew him, and he was a stranger to you, it would be different. You have known him as long as I have, and as well. You know he is innocent." ““You are young,” he calmly answered. ‘ You have not studied human nature deeply. Implicit trust is not to be placed in any man.” “That is the ar ent of a policeman,” she ye- plied, “‘ one who only sees the evil side of men.”’ f is the argument of experience,’’ he rejoin- ed. “All young people tend to trust in human na- ture. Mos ee have their eyes so opened by fraud and d that they incline to doubt all un. proved characters.”’ ‘*Do you mean to say that John Elkton’s charac- ter is unproved?”’ she asked, with a quick glance. ‘“‘T was not making ny ok Sp apron of my words,” he quickly replied. “He is a map, with human weaknesses. at do we know of his life, outside of his visits here? We do not know how or where he spends his time, nor who are his associates. He does not see you very ef 9 ‘You will hint next that he is deceiving me,” was her hot answer, ‘“‘ He visits me as often as he can, and I have perfect faith in his love and his honesty. LT yas) Somexe. ———e- ———-we I do not need to have him always under my eyes to know and trust him. That would be a sorry e. . “It ht often prove a good one,” he answered. 7 feng it is notin his case, You know it is not, sir,’’ she cried, rising impatiently and pacing the floor. ‘‘ You have deeply pained and mortifle me, Mr. Leonard. But if you should throw him into a convict’s cell you could not break my love and faith. Iam proud, and can feel keenly the disgrace in which you have pinged me. But I would not de- sert him were it tenfold deeper. You know John Elkton, and you dare not say that you believe him guilty. You do not believe it, *T cannot help doubting him, Jennie,’ he replied. ‘*Doubt him!" she cried. “ And is a mere doubt warrant enough for you to take such action, to in- hp and disgrace him, to wound me so deeply? You oubt him! If you had seen your goods in his pos- | session it would not have given you the right to doubt him without further proof.” “They were found in his possession,’’ he replied, hotly as herself. ‘‘He was found making presents of Shem. And as for further proof we have it in his silence. If he is innocent why does he refuse to clear himself?’’ “T don’t know. He has good reasons forit. If Ity why did he give me that silk, and so bring it rectly before your eyes?” ‘*T did not consider that,” he said, thoughtfully. “You did not consider anyth ” was her bitter reply. ‘‘You acted as hastily as if he had been an utter stranger, and caught in the act of robbery. It is certain that you did not consider me, Iand my feelings and position were quite left out of the account,’ “IT think we had better close this conversation,” he mildly answered. ‘‘ You are hot and passionate now. When you are cooler you can better appreciate my action.” re ys bras it now,’’ she replied, more hotly still “Not content with having him seized as a felon you must enter my room, search among my things, carry off that miserable bow, make me a tha to this base persecution of my lover. And his all hidden from me. My room entered as by a thief in the night, and robbed of its treasures, or did you not ask me for the silk?’’ “IT took it from your table, where it lay conspicu- ously. I did not deem it necessary to ask you. Nor do I like such language as this.”’ ‘You have laid yourself open to it by your ac- tion,”’ she answered pacing the floor with an excite- ment that would not let her keep still. “I will cling to my lover, sir, whatever you do with him. You cannot turn me against him. He is an innocent, in- jured man. And I will not be made a party to this vile persecution, I demand a return of the bow that was taken from my room without my knowledge."’ “You cannot have it,’’ he replied, his cheek flushed with anger. ‘“‘It isin the hands of the authorities. And there it must remain as evidence.” ‘You have robbed me, and I will not submit to it,’’ she passionately replied. “IT have only possessed myself of my own, which was robbed from me,”’ he sharply answered, ‘* Here thousands of dollars’ worth of goods and money are stolen from me. Iam in danger of being ruined by these mysterious robberies. At length I get on the trail of the thieves. I find one person open to the strongest suspicion. I arrest him and secure the proof against bim. And now you would have me stay my hand, close the door I have opened, and allow myself to be blindly ruined. I feel for you, Jennie, but you are not reasonable to-day. I must protect myself.”’ ‘“*And ruin me and my betrothed. And by mere sophistry. You know the proof against him is but a shadow. You know he is innocent, and will explain himself in time. But, no, you send an officer to him who asks him some impertinent questions, an arrests him because he declines to answer so sud- denly. I uphold him in not answering now. Neither would Lif ted so i hl Pm has laid himself open to it,” Mr. Leonard replied. Rphen amlo to it,” she hotly rejoined, la her hand on the table, and loeking him flercely in the eyes. ‘‘The silk was found in my possession. I refused to tell where I got gay to you and to your insulting minion, Wilson. hy did you not arrest me? ere was all and more evidence against me than against him. Ihave not yet admitted that it came from him.” ‘* We know it well encom ” he replied. “As for his silence I doubt not it has as good warrant as mine,” “Yours is explained. His is not. The law is no respecter of such scruples.” ‘Very well, Mr. Leonard,’’ she more quietly re- plied. ‘You have shown your hand and established yourself as my declared enemy. T can no longer remain under your roof. Two houses must hold us from this henceforth. I cast my lot with John Elkton. will be true to him whatever betide, and a foe to his foes.” ** Now, child, you are talking pure nonsense,” said Mr. Leonard, gravely. “I cannot consent to any such madness. It would look well, indeed, to let you seem as if driven from my house,’ ““There would be no seeming about it. I am driven from your house. I have stayed in it as long as my self-respect will permit.”’ “You are my ward. My child in thelaw. I will not consent to your going. “T am a woman, and mistress of my actions. I ’ \ esr ot “ This is madness, girl. Go where? What is to become of you?. Who is to take care of you?” “T am not friendless, sir. I can find refuge with 13 : —_ a tm — —— Peas | people wee will consider me before their own self- D st,”’ ‘*You must not, you shall not act like a enciae child!” he said, vigorously. ‘“ I never thought that ou would accuse me of of interest in you. I hat have done so much for you, far more than you know or conjecture. If you knew all you would not treat me 80. “Tf I knew all! What is there for me to know?” ‘“*T cannot tell you now, Jennie. I have been more and it pains me a friend to you than you imagine, | . Leonard,” replied have you turn on me in this way. “This is a new mystery, Jennie. ‘‘I cannot engage to be grateful for some- thing I never heard of, and do not seem likely to hear of. I know you only as oy ee the cus- todian of moneys left by my father. You have been kind and considerate to an unruly child, I admit. But you are in this case neither kind nor can- siderate.”’ ‘“‘Tam more than your guardian,” he replied. “There is a secret conn with your life which I have been charged to reveal when you came of age,” ‘“‘A secret! A disgraceful secret!’’ she cried. ‘** How could I, a child, have incurred any dis ? What is this secrat? lam not afraid of it. These alf-rev are tenfold worse than silence. Does it affect my father?” “Your father. He was an honorable man. There is no whisper against him.”’ ‘*My father! You emphasize this as if he was not my father. I demand to know what you mean by these innuendoes. It is not fair, sir, to reven yourself on my just indignation by such an - uation as this,”’ “TIT have said too much, Jennie. More thanl thought of saying at this time. I withdraw it all,” ‘* Withdraw!’’ she cried, with a scornful accent. “You cannot withdraw a storm that has been let loose. Silence now is worse than the truth. What am I to think of such language? Whois my father and what has he done to disgrace me? I must have an answer.” ‘*T di. not speak of disgrace. There are misfor- tunes that are no disgrace."’ ‘What misfortune, then?” pre. x say no more now. I have said too much ready. Some day when Pb are cooler, and will nee nk me revengeful I will tell you to what I ude,”’ ‘* And meanwhile leave me to miserable conjeo- tures,’ she said, sinking wearily in her chair. ‘You have no occasion for it, Dismiss this mat- ter from your mind for the presses But you must give up your foolish idea of leaving sf house,” ‘You have driven me to it,’’ she said, flushing up again. ‘You are blinding yourself now, Jennie, an@ wron me, ne’ eh know. I don’t know an !” she cried, passionately. “I only know that my _ lover is in prison, that he is innocent, and that you have placed m there, I know no more, and can no more now.” With a hasty movement she rose and left the FOOD ee face haunting him with its pain and re- proac —_-- -— CHAPTER XVIII. WILL PREPARES FOR WORK. We left Will and his companion on a shed oven ore 4 a band of conspirators, The long June twi- light ad aut passed, the sky was overcast wi clouds, and it was quite dark. Will glanced in at the narrow aperture of the win- dow. There was less thay aninch of space left by the curtain, But this enabled him to catch a glimpse of atable, on which burnt a lamp, and to see the faces of the four men seated around it. Black-eyed Joe stood back. He had just brought — up some oye ill could scarcely repress a chuckle of tri The face of the man whom he had last seen ow was now fully displayed. There was no doubt now, he knew him at a glance, The face of a second looked familiar to him, The other two were strangers. His companion, however, seemed to know them. * Them’s gay nobs. High-toned cracksmen,” he eee Na ’ em.”’ The men were still conversing, but in low tones, and only an occasional phrase reached the eager young ears at the window. ‘Not safe now,” was the first phrase caught. “ John Elkton is in prison. He won't blow,” ane West is the best field. r this scent gets, cold.” ‘* All safe, Joe?” “Ay,” said Joe, in alouder voice. “Up yonder. Stowed close.” He pointed with his finger over his left shoulder i= an upward direction. : ‘‘Not so loud. There's ears below.” The voices now sunk lower, so that the spie. heard nothing for some time, Suddenly Will clapped his hand on his knee. “Bet I’ve got him nailed now,” he said, in an in- cautious whisper. “ Who?” asked Joe. “The black-whiskered feller. Know him like a breeze.” The men grew still more earnest in their conversa- tion. . “Will be in store about Thursday,” came to the ears of the boys as their tones grew louder. “And won't be looked after? ** No, they think we’re prightened off, and won't venture to touch this lot. I can give the me # there’s any change in the programme.’ ~- ‘comicboo know just where to put my finger on — > @ G (Oo) ; | a