Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 122 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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12 Phil Hardy, the Boss Boy. confidence in his smartness to deem it possible for any 0.e to get the best of him. And to stay out at ae was no new feature of his vagrant life. et for all this she felt uneasy. Some inkling of danger was in the air and affected her so that she could searecely sleep. Her few short naps were broken by unpleasant dreams, in which Phil got into all sorts of scrapes. He got out of them again, though, which was some mental refreshment to her. ‘* Here's morning, but where’s Phil?” she queried, discontentedly. “T am desperate afraid there’s something wrong.— And that poor, dear Alice, too! Who knows but she may have been deceived?—I had no business to let her ES pop it’s the wa with boys and girls. They know so overly muc more than their grandmothers.” She kept up this soliloquy as she moved with a heavy heart about her household affairs. ‘But how do I know?” she continued. “ Phil might be in his bed. That’s one —s about m boy. When he comes in at night he dont distur any bony. That’s some of my training.”’ nd with much self-satisfaction at this one good result of her training, she opened the door of Phil's room and looked in She shut it again quickly, and with a silent laugh. ‘*He has stolen a march on me,”’ she said, ‘** That’s his sweet young face on the pillow, sure enough. Well, well, I wont disturb him. The poor boy must want sleep. Though if he was only home at re- Wg ee hours he could get his sleep at night. I shall have to stop that night-walking. And the old lady’s expression was very resolute. It was indeed Phil, who had escaped in some strange way from his imminent peril of the night before, and who made his debut to a late breakfast about nine o’clock. He was not very satisfactory with his grand- mother as to what had detained him. ‘‘ Business,’’ was the scope of his revelations. He seares e frighten her too seriously if he told her of is perils. ith Susy he was far more communicative. He had the child’s hair almost on end, and her breath coming and going in gasps, as he told the story of his adventure, much as the reader already knows it. ** Now that cant be, Phil,’’ she brokein. “ For you to be flung overboard with your hands and feet tied, and left there.—Why you would surely have drowned, Now, what is the use of telling me such stories?” ‘Tt is true enough,”’ he pe eng Cept a little one which I’ve left out, and which the capting didn’t twig. | Tt was Dirty Dick, and he acted he has got an inch of dirt on his face.” ‘** But you have not said Dirty Dick once yet.” ‘Cause I never jump Witty a story. That’s why. If Dick hadn’t been thar I’d been among the aenes now. Ididn’t know afore that Dick was sich a@ hoss.”’ “Yo hear you talk,” said Susy, severely, ‘‘ one might think you were horses and fishes, an say near a whole menagerie. Why dont you talk like respectable folks?”’ ‘*Cause we're not respect’ble folks,’’ Phil sturdily replied. ‘“*And Dick is a hoss—a reg’lar two-forty animile.”’ ‘** And how is he a hoss?”’ “Tl jist tell you that. I was laying in that boat, as I told yet. *specting every minute would be my next, with the tarnal capting and mate rowin’ behind me, and tied as tight as a trussed turkey, and jist on the pint of bein’ basted with cold water instead of gary That’s the identercal position I was in, and I tell you I was desp’rat blue, and I was wishin mighty hard that I was sitting on the top step ‘long- side of Susy Lane.” ‘*Oh, hush!” cried Susy, playfully tapping him on the cheek. “I don’t know when you will ever get done if i go on at this rate.”’ ‘Well, I was layin’ there, then, jist like a lump of indigo, when I felt something touch me on the cheek.—I thought it was an eel’s tail, it felt so cold like. I wasa bit scared, too, and mought have made a noise, only [had a yard of broadcloth around my speaking-trumpet.”’ ‘“Why don’t you say your mouth; if that is what you mean?”’ “T dunno. It dont sound dignified like.—Anyhow I soon knowed it was a hand, by the feel. And, what's more, thar come a whisper in my ear to ‘keep mum.’ The next thing the rope round my hands was cut loose, And then thar come the voice agin. ‘Cant reach your feet,’ it said. ‘IH guv you the knife. You kin cut loose under water, and swim fur it.’ That was every blessed thing, ’cept that I found myself grabbin’ the knife. It wasn’t three minutes after when they histed me overboard like a bag of spiled pertaters.’ Phil paused to give proper effect to the climax, while Susy he!d her breath in Cee enna **Go on!” she cried, testily. “* You do beat every- thing. I'd be sure you went to the bottom, only I know you are here now.” “The water wasn’t deep enough to drown Phil Hardy,’’ was his grave response. ‘‘ You kin bet I weren’t three seconds in the water afore I'd cut all loose.—Well, that’s all. I had. my feet, and my hands, and my mouth, and what more could any reasonable feller want?” ‘“‘[ think any reasonable fellow would want to get ashore,’’ said Susy. “Score one for Susy Lane,”’ e a man, if cried Phil, laughing. “That's jist what I @id want. It werent that |. the East River was wide enough to drown me but it was so tarnal dark I couldn’t see an inch.—I swum around fur fifteen minutes, and Pll swan if I knowed where I was.”’ “However did you get ashore?” she eagerly asked, x Dick agin,’’ was his sententious answer. ** But how did Dick help you?”’ “Well you see, I hee a whistle that lL knowed as well as I know granny’s call to breakfass. I don’t b’lieve you, nor nobody, ever heered half so sweet a whistle. [swum fur it straight. And it a oin’ like a forty-pianner, and I kept swimmin’ and the first thing that come I was agin a wharf an Dick a holdin’ down his hand tome. I know you never seed anybody half so glad as Dick and me s 99 “Td just love Dick! I declare I would!” cried | ir pagename ‘if he would only wash his ace “ That’s the one weak pint about Dick,’’ declared Phil, gravely. ‘‘ You see he heered all their talk through the cabin winder; and he hid in the skiff under the little deck for’ard. It was him chopped my hands loose. And Capting Monroe stepped on him in the boat and thoughthe was a bunch of oakum. And then he went down the wharves and whistled forme, And—that’s all.” ** You talk just as if it was nothing.”’ “It aint much,” remarked Phil, indifferently. " How’s Miss Alice this mornin’? Aint seen her “Why, didn’t you know that she had left? Gone to her aunt’s in the country ?”’ ‘* The thunder she has!’’ exclaimed Phil, spring- ing to his feet in his wi niger ‘Yes, when she got the letter yesterday—”’ “Letter from who?” sharply interrupted Phil. ‘* Why, in answer to the one that you took.” ‘*Hello! There’s a wheel loose now sure,” and he gave vent to a shrill whistle. ‘‘ And she gota etter?” ‘“‘Yes. It’s here. She dropped it.’’ And the frightened child led the way to Mrs. Hardy’s rooms, and gave him the letter which had been picked up on the floor. Phil unceremoniously read it aloud, for the benefit of the audience. It was without date or address, and read as follows: ‘My Dear Miss Homer: ““Your letter is received; and as my brother is out of town, and I do not know just where to reach him, I deemed it my duty to open it, andI am glad that I did so, as I can serve you as well as arvey could have done. [I know Mrs. Corson’s residence, just out of Harlem, and take pleasure in sending our e to take you there, You can trust yourself safely to the bearer. I would have come myself, but am not able to {ost at present. However, I pro myself the pleasure of soon on you, and will notify Harvey of your be- ing here as soon as I know where to address him, * Yours affectionately, **Mary RUSSELL.” “That's gay,’’ said Phil, sarcastically. ‘* And she went on that?” “Why, certainly,” answered his grandmother. ‘Then there’s blazes loose, sure enough. Jist smell that paper.” They did so, and found that it exhaled a faint per- fume. ““That’s Cunningham’s scent,’’? remarked Phil. ** And who is Cunningham ?”’ ‘“‘He’s the sweet-scented chap that’s puttin’ up these jobs on Miss Alice.” ‘“*And you think he wrote that letter?”’ asked Mrs. Hardy, breathlessly. “*T know he did.’ sé How 9 ** Cause it aint no woman’s handwritin’ nor Bepcr. It’s only aman tryin’ to come the woman. Next, there’s that nasty sweet smell. And then agin, jist notice the compersition. ‘Our kerridge!’ Now what woman would heve said ‘our kerridge?’ It would have been ‘ my kerridge,’ sure.” Susy boxed his ears for his impudence, but his mother was too full of concern to pay heed to his. ; “Did you not deliver the letter?” she asked, stern- y: “I had it stole from me by Cunningham,” said Phil, fast, as if t to drown any re- proaches. ‘It’s that chap that’s nabbed Miss Alice. And it’s this chap that’s goin’ to fetch her back. What kind of a lookin’ feller was it come fur her?”’ ‘“*A tall young man,” pape Mrs. Hardy, with a look of great distress. ‘‘He was polite and honest- looking. Can’t be possible—”’ ‘“‘He could afford to look honest, blame his ugly picture!”’ Phil savagely interrupted. ‘Did the ker- ridge come up to the door?’’ ““No. Itstood just round the corner of the street.” ‘Maybe some of,the boys seen it then. I’m goin’ fur them.,”’ Phil made a plunge for the door. He was stopped by a dis call from Susy. “‘Are you sure you can bring Miss Alice back?’ she asked, plaintively, her eyes full of, tears. “T kin try mighty hard.” “But do you know where she is?” ‘** The letter says, above Harlem.”’ “Maybe that is not true.”’ “Yes it is,’ said Ph tively. chap didn’t that Alice was goin’ to drop the letter fur us to pick up. And he had to tell her somethin’ about where her aunty lived.” ‘*But he might take her somewhere else.” “Dont b’lieve he will. She mought s’pect, and ‘*You see, the make a noise, you see.”’ te Pilg ou mein get the police, Phil?” asked “The perlice be plowed !’’? was Phil’s contemptuous answer. ‘‘ Dont want to knock down plums fur them > pick up. Good-by, granny and Susy. Bet I bring Mi “~ ‘mm He kissed them both affectionately, and then ra from the house with a boy’s enthusiasm, flinging his hat before him down the stairs. ‘Hallo! Joe,” was his first exclamation outside, “‘How goes the jiants, hey? Were you round here last night?’’ ‘** Guess so,’’ Joe Dot replied. ‘*Spose you seen nothin’ of a fancy kerridge that stopped hereaway?”’ ‘*T seed it,” answered Joe, sententiously. ner That’s clever. What kind of a lookin’ team was i > Pe ] “A pair of SpAnEING fine grays, and a big, hand- some coach, with a monagram on the door.”’ ‘**A monygram? What's a monygram?”’ ** Oh! it’s two or three letters of a man’s name, tied up in a bow-knot, which it would take a school- master to untie. That's it.’’ “Oh!” groaned Phil. ‘‘ Did you know the team?” “Like a book. It come from Harry Pierce's stable, in the Bowery. Ibet on that.” **A young lady went off in it?” “Yes, the beautifullest lady. I know the chap that py her in the carriage.” ‘** Ha!’ said Phil, ‘‘ Whowas he?”’ “A tall, conceited feller, that’s st being a boy, and aint got to be a man yet. e’s a little touch cross-eyed, his nose is cacy epough to use asa plow, and his mouth might do for a railroad depot, And his head’s shingled so close that it’s got more hide than hair onit. That’s his photygraph.” ‘** You have seen him before?”’ “Yes. About Pierce’s stable.” **Come down that way with me, Joe. I want you to show me that team,’ Nothing loth, Joe accompanied Phil, questioning him closely about his object, and receiving very un- satisfactory answers. The two boys lounged into the stable, and Joe was able to soon point out the horses, a pair of fine grays, who were quietly munch- ing their oats. ‘That’s the man that drove,” he said, pointing to an Irishman standing near them. Phil at once accosted him. ‘* Fine team that,”’ he remarked. “Taint asy beat,’ said the man. ante look as if they’d been away from their oats ately.” “TIndade and they have then. short of twenty mile yisterday.”’ ‘““Which way ?’’ asked Phil, carelessly. ** A bitout of Harlem,” “*Ah!’’ said Phil, easily. ‘Good goers, I spose,” ‘“ They’re jist divils at goin’.”’ *‘T’ve been above Harlem. Whose place did you drive to?”’ ‘*Not much do I know. Had achap along that knowed. It’s about a mile out, on the river road. An old-fashioned place, with trees a-plenty.”’ Phil continued to question, in his off-handed man- ner, but he knew now about all that the driver knew. He felt, however, that he had gained some very important knowledge. They weren’t far CHAPTER XV. PHIL’S NEW CONFEDERATE. Pui. Harpy was not yet ready to make his search for the house of the abductors. He believed in leav- ing no loophole open behind him, and there were two or three matters which it was necessary to have attended to. One of these was settled by hunting up Dirty Dick and placing him on guard duty over the Strong- bow. There was no telling to what extent the two villainous officers might take part in Cunningham's plans, and it seemed best to have them watched. There were signals concocted between the two boys, by which they could communicate with each other if desirable, Joe Dot was let into a portion of the secret, and similarly placed to watch Tim Fagan. Phil consid- ering him another dubious element in the combina- on, ‘Dont b’lieve he kin find any more sich blamed rascals in York,’’said Phil. “If anything's to be done one of these chaps has got to do it. That’s why I want them shaddered.”’ For his own part he had still another object in view. He made the best of his way to 879 Madison avenue, and boldly rung the bell of a stylish man- sion which he found in that locality. A servant quickly 4 ee who looked down with infinite disdain on ’s dilapidated garb. ‘Is this where Mr. Harvey Russell hangs out?” asked Phil, unabashed by the man. ‘‘He dont hang out anywhere,” was the curt. re- ly. Py Does he live here, then? Maybe that'll suit your ideas better.”’ ““What do you want?” the man shortly demand- ed. ‘I’ve got no time to waste on ragamuffins.”’ z ye do I want, eh?’’ asked Phil. sé es , ‘*T want a straight answer. And 1 want none of our slack. Them’s two things. Now shell out, osiah. Does Mr. Russell live here?”’ ‘**He dont want to see the likes of aay ih said the man angrily, stepping back to shut the door. ‘“‘Hold your horses there,” cried Phil, advancing his foot to keep the door from closing. ‘ gna you over-fed minion, if you dont tell Mr. there’s a gentleman waiting here to see him, on im- portant bizness, and if you dont jump livelier than a SrePeDOP ET, why jist look out fur squalls, that’s all. —Now gil: The man swelled with rage, and looked as if on the point of taking Phil by the collar and shaking the mpudence out of him. © ONO) €om ooo,