Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 122 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

tl ni tee & OA. < °a@ — know that I am indebted to you in any specified sum. “You will find that you are not dean be with a baby before you are done with me,’’ exclaimed the angry captain. ‘* You can take this bit of paper, and make the figures a more reasonable amount, or I ao make New York the hottest place you ever set oot in.’ “Bah!” said Mr. Cunningham, contemptuously. “You can do just what you think fit. I consider that you are well paid, and I do not care a fig for your threats.—One might think this was the first check you have had from me.” **T bet a sea-horse it will not be the last,’’ retorted Captain Monroe, in a lower tone than he had been using. “I suppose you think our hands will be tied, that we will be afraid to move,—Why, blast it, sir before I would be swindled by any red-mustached land-lubber, I'd tie the hangman’s knot around my own neck, Try this trick on, and you will find that I mean every word of it.” ‘**T can’t say that I have any objections, if you are anxious that way,”? said Mr. Cunningham, with ag- gravating indifference. “I hope, though, you won't make such a sensation. I dont enjoy sensations.” As he spoke he sprung lightly from the deck to the whath a distance of four or five feet. * Dont forget, Cap,” he cried out, as he walked rapidly away. ‘‘And see that the Gustom House entries are properly attended to.” “Yes, you’re rascally sly,’ muttered the captain savagely. ‘* Want to put the sailors off the track. I calculate you wont put me off the track so easy.” Neither of them had noticed the diminutive form of Phil Hardy, who had slipped hastily away from his position at Mr. Cunningham’s first movement, and — - hee gliding toward Dick from the end of the wharf. “Foller me. And look as if you didn’t know beans,’”’ he whispered in his comrade’sear. ‘* The game’s gittin’ ripe.” Dick was quick-witted enough to take the hint, and slouched along behind Phil, as if he had not a care in the world beyond lounging in the sunshine. Nobody paid the slightest heed to the two boys, as they left the wharf, some distance in the wake of Mr. Cunningham. The latter had entered a street leading up into the city, and was walking briskly along. “There’s fun up, Dick,” eee ae Phil, as they followed the gentleman, “My first game's to strike where he lives. If he fights shy, then I want you to foller him like a sand-bur follers a cow’s tail, and dont let up till you hole him. Spose he’s a Fifth Avenuder. Mought think he owned New York from the Battery up, to look at him.” ‘**Did you hit any game, Phil?” ‘Dunno. There’s money passed hands, and that’s always duberous. Got to investergate this chap, that’s all.”’ When the me ye of their pursuit had reached about two blocks from the wharf Phil hastened his steps, signing to Dick to lurk behind. The boy came briskly up to the unconscious gen- tleman, crying in a breathless tone: “Mr. Cunningham!” “Well? What do you want?’ asked the gentle- man, ees as he noticed the figure of the boy who had called him, “T thought you was the one, but wasn’t quite sure,” replied Phil innocently. “Captain Monroe, of the Strongbow, told me torun after you.” ‘Monroe!’ was the impatient answer. ‘He does not want me back?”’ ‘** He didn’t say so,’’ responded Phil. “What did he say then?” “Only that he’d forgot your directions. That's wor he told me to tell you, and to ask where you ved,” “He must have a devilish short memory,” ex- claimed Mr. Cunningham, angrily. ‘I toldit to him not an hourago. And he might have asked Hend- ricks, who knows it well enough.” “T'll tell him that then?” asked Phil, making as if about to return, “Yes.—But no; give him this. Tell him to nail it in his mind, and then throw it to the fishes. ’ He gave Phila card from his case, saying, as he looked at the boy: ‘**Do you belong to the Strongbow?” “Tlend a hand about her,” Phil answered, turning on his heel. He was not six steps from Mr. Cunningham before he had nailed the directions on the card in his mem- ory. x You're off duty, Dick,” he said to that young gentleman, as he rejoined him. “The bird flew ee into my net. Got all I wanted out of m ““ Where now?” asked Dick, trotting along to keep pace with Phil’s rapid walk. ““Back to the Strongbow, quick as lightnin’,” Phil replied. ‘Got to have alittle chat with Cap Monroe, afore some things git cold in his mind,”’. ** What’s up?” queried Dick. Phil answered by giving his comrade a brief out- line of what he had learned, and of his present in- pec By suppressing such part as he did not care to e. oe fire now,’’ he said, as they reached the wharf. You know the game if I’m nabbed.” With the bold movement of one who has import- ant business on hand our young friend mounted the side of the Strongbow, and approached the captain, who was standing aft, looking moodily at the move- ments of the stevedores. **Captain Monroe, I spose?” was Phil’s question- ing address. ; ' ‘What do you want with me?” demanded the cap- tain, suriily. Phil Hardy, the Boss Boy. “Want to know if you’re Cap Monroe,”’ Phil sturdily repeated. ‘Yes. And what then?’’ “Twas told to step on board and see you on im- ortant bizness. 'Them’s the words he said,” replied hil, in a dignified tone, “Who said?” That's his card. He said as you'd reckernise it.” “*Ha!” cried Captain Monroe, his eyes falling on the perfumed slip which Phil had handed him. “ Did he send you?”’ “The man who guv me that card? Oh, yes, It was him.” Phil’s tone was undiluted innocence. ‘**Come into the cabin,’’ ordered the captain, with a cautious look around him. Dick, from his station on the wharf, saw with some alarm this disappearance of his comrade down the companionway of the Strongbow, into those mys- terious and doubtful regions below her decks. Phil, however, advanced without a sign of fear or nee Well b ” said th tain, turning on h **'We oy,” sai e captain, on him. “ What did he send you for?? ‘** He told me I was to bring the paper he guv you. Them’s the words he said. The paper you and him had just been talkin’ about,”’ “Did he say what the paper was?” asked the cap- tain with inward satisfaction at this symptom of fear on Cunningham’s part. % an the paper. That was all,”’ Phil innocent- yre ““But who are you? And what warrant have I in handing over to you an important paper?” ‘“*T dunno as it makes much difference to me,” re- torted Phil, carelessly, seating himself beside a cabin-window of the Strongbow, which was open to let in the air. “Did he give you no token except this card?” asked Captain Monroe, suspiciously. ** Yes,’’ said Phil, in the most matter-of-fact tone. “He said if you didn’t believe me, I was to guv you this fur a password, ‘ The Alice Homer has gone to the bottom.’—Or some sich words.” Captain Monroe sprung to his feet as if he had been bitten by a scorpion. A hearty curse broke from his lips, as he hurriedly paced across the cabin. ‘“*He spoke about idiots awhile ago,”’ muttered the excited officer. “‘T’ll be shotif he ought not to be locked up in a maniac’s ward.”’ ** Who?” asked Phil, opening his eyes widely. “No matter.—I guess you are allright. ‘Here is the paper. ‘He is going to act wisely and add to the amount of en check,”’ thought the captain, as he turned to get it. As he did so, Phil felt himself touched from be- hind, at the cabin-window, and a voice in his ear: ‘**The black-muzzled mate! Look out! It’s gitting squally.”’ “ Here it is,” said Captain Monroe, turning quick- iy: “Hurry back to Mr. Cunningham, and tell him said this, ‘Captain Monroe’s time is limited. If one man wont buy he knows another who will.’— You wont forget?” “*No,”’ said Phil, putting his hand on the window, as if to assist him in rising. As he did so the check disappeared from his hand into certain groping fingers outside. P ned toward the cabin door, as if thinking that his mission there was ended, and the sooner he got out of that locality the better for his health. But he was not destined to get off so easily. Be- fore he could reach the door of the cabin it was opened, and the black-bearded mate appeared. f o! Who have we here?” he cried, as his eyes fell on Phil. ‘“‘A messenger from Mr. Cunningham,’’ replied Captain Monroe. ““A messenger from the devil!’ exclaimed the mate. ‘“*Hold back, youngster,” he cried, seizing Phil fiercely by the shoulder, as the latter was push- ing past him. “How do you know he is from Cun- ningham?”’ “He neoughy this password: ‘The Alice Homer has gone to the bottom.’”’ The mate turned blue as he heard these words. He hustled Phil rapidly across the cabin to a door opening inward. ‘* We are sold!” he ejaculated. “ Thisis one of the chaps that followed us last night. I bet high he follows to the bottom,”’ Dirty Dick hastily dropped out of sight, as he caught a glimpse of Phil pushed through a low door into a dungeon-like darkness beyond. CHAPTER XL. AT CENTRAL PARK. Wer must leave the boys awhile and return to our lady friends. Mrs. met * has been busy all morn- ing in ve boa and smoothing the clothes of her guest. She has been quite successful in her efforts, and Miss Homer has w ly doffed the old lady’s volumin- ous gown, and is dressed somewhat more becoming- ly in her own attire. ‘Her dress is of alight summer silk, which shows scarcely a sign of its immersion in the water, and which elegantly fits her slender, supple form. Above it her pale, gentle, clear-cut face blooms like a white lilly, crowned above by a waving wealth of brown hair, and lit by the softest of eyes. Little Susy Lane is at her feet, looking up at her with undisguised admiration in her large orbs. i “Do zon ow, Miss Alice,” she says, confidingly. ‘that Phil is just the best boy out? you knew all the good thi and the smart things he has done.” **T can well believe him a marvel of intelligence,” Miss Homer replied. ‘‘And I think he likes my young friend very much.” “Me!” cried §$ ea her eyes very wide. “Likes me! Why, Llike Phil, too. Phil's my sweet- heart, you know. AndlI am his. And we just love one another.”’ “Oh! It has gone so far as that, then?” said Miss Homer, smiling. ‘*‘And Isuppose you are going to be married very soon.”’ “Get married?’ repeated Susy, in a tone of alarm. “Why, I never thought of that. Aint we too young to get married?” ‘Well, rather,” was the dry answer. “The idea of anything. £0 ridiculous!” And Susy burst into a merry laug “TI do believe you are just making fun of me. I know it is only great, grown folks, like you, that get married.” A slight blush came on Miss Homer’s face as she answered: “You and Phil will be at grown folks some day. Then Isuppose, you will be marrying.” “IT dont know,” said Susy, coquettishly. “TI might fall out with Phil. Or I might see somebody r liked better. Why dont you get married, Miss ice?” “Perhaps it is because I cannot get any one to have me,” she replied, with a slight constraint in her laugh. ‘“ Idont see that you can do better than wait for Phil—I wish he would come back with the answer to my letter,” “Did you tell him it was in a hurry?” “*T did not,” “Then you wont see him before night. Phil is never in a hurry.”’ “Is that the case, Mrs. Hardy?” “Yes,” replied the old lad , from the corner in which she was bustling. ‘“ Phil does try me dreadful sometimes, for if he dont take a notion to go fast a steam-engine wouldn't h him. Why dont you go bi and take a walk, Miss Homer, and rest your- self?”’ ‘*T would not know where to go. Iam an entire stranger in New York. I should be lost in ten steps.” oy Oh! I will go with you and show you!” cried Susy, enthusiastically. “I will take you a long walk— ng, Or we will take the cars and go to the ark.”’ “Wherever you will, Iam in your hands,” replied their guest, courteously. “TI think you will like the Park,” said Mrs. Hardy enthusiastically. ‘It is ever so pretty a place. And then it’s got marble statues, and fountains, and the sweetest lake, and geese swimming in it,” “Swans,” corrected Susy. “The idea of calling them geese! Those beautiful white swans! You should only see them swim, Miss Alice. So stately and graceful. But may be you have seen swans.”’ ** Yes, and geese, too,” their guest smilingly replied. ‘* We will go to the Park at any rate. Iam not yet tired of seeing beautiful things. But Lam half-afraid, Mrs. Hardy. My enemies—’ ; “You have not so many of them?” asked Mrs. Hardy. ‘**'Two or three, only.” “Two or three in a million!” and Mrs, Hardy laughed at the idea, ‘ Why it would be like hunting the needle in the haystack. You dont know whata monstrous place New York is. And I suppose your foes have no time to spare from their rogueries for strolling in the Park.” ; “That may be so,”’ admitted their guest, musing- y: “Oh, come!” cried Susy, dragging at her hand. **T will take the best of care of Me ny And if anybody says see to you he had better look out for him- self.” And Susy was comically savage in her man- n er. “Very well, then, if I am to have such a dough® champion,” asserted Miss Homer, mer ee a ou wear such a look as that you certainly ‘ighten the men into good behavior.” **You dont know how flerce I can be,” exclaimed Susy. ‘“‘Comeon. I just hope somebody will speak to us, so that I can show you.” The two new friends were very m as they rode together to the Park. Susy seemed to feel it a part, of her duty to be as lively as possible to cheer up the unfortunate mee th 6 latter forced her- self to respond to the child’s efforts. It was a pleasant afternoon, and the Parkin the acme of its Junetide beauty. Streams of showy carriages filled all the drives; and throngs of gayly- dressed people lent a charm to the walks. Children rollicked and laughed. Susy felt like it, but im- agined that her position called for a certain measure of demureness. So she walked as soberly as she could beside her older friend, only breaking out every five minutes or so ina gush of merriment, or an incipient romp. She i ene hly a ted with the lions of the Park, and showed them off with youthful en- tains, » Swans and thusiasm—the statutes, foun all. And Miss Homer was thoroughly appreciative of the beauties of this charming pleasure-ground of the people, and was little less enthusiastic than her chaperone in her tion. “And now, Susy,” she said at length, “we have earned the right to be tired. Let us sit awhile beside the Mall.—Did you not say this was the Mall ' over thera must very & good-l ; if he did wear such an odd dress.— was - speare, Miss Alice? Some t generale ‘“A great poet, and that greater than be- ing a great general. You may see by his face that e is a thinker, and nota : “az omens a re the child. “Itisso full did he write?” of thought. Wha “Plays, my dear. The most charming plays. Ss (ECAC OOO) (E)