Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 152 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

2 Black Bess, Will Wildfire’s Racer. Black Bess, . WILL WILDFIRE’S RACER; Winning Against Odds. BY CHARLES MORRIS, AUTHOR OF ‘‘ WILL WILDFIRE,’ ‘HANDSOME HARRY,” ““ DETECTIVE DICK,”’ ‘“‘ PICAYUNE PETE,”’ ETC. CHAPTER I. A MEETING AT THE BELL. To any one accustomed to sporting life in P delphia, the name of the *‘ Blue Bell Inn ”’ will a household word, Particularly to those fond of ‘horses, and of the pleasures of the race-course, the name of the “ “and of its genial proprietor, Charley Lloyd, must call up pleasant reminiscences of the past. It is seated on the extreme edge of Philadelphia, at the foot ofa Me ee declivity, near the suburban village of Paschalville, and close to the borders of a winding creek which forms the southern boundary of the city. In front of the long, low porch of this noted hostelry, on a fine day in the latter part of Septem- ber, was collected a group of sporting gentlemen, to judge from their dress andthe subject of their conversation. One of them, a gigantic figure, considerably over six feet in hight, and of magnificent muscular de- velopment, was just lighting a cigar, and listening to the animated conversation of the group. Drawing se a chair, he seated himself in a laz attitude, and puffing a volume of smoke from his cigar, quietly remarked: ‘1 don’t know that I'd mind riding the race my- self. It’s a little past my jockey days, no doubt, but wey a notion I could get some speed out of a horse ye ” A volley of laughter followed this remark. “Out of an elephant, you mean,” exclaimed one of his friends. “The idea of Pierce Browning on the course! I pity the poor animal that has you to carry."’ “Now don’t be laying that flattering unction to your soul,”’ retorted Pierce, quoting from Shake- speare. “If you think a horse can’t carry me, just ask Will Wildfire about the time I took him down the steep road to the Falls bridge. Will’s a bold chap, to be sure; but I'll be hanged if he didn't turn the color of whitewash that day.”’ “You needn’t be advertising yourself,” Enses Ben fluntly, another member of the party. ‘ We all know you have the devil in you when you are stirred up. I would sooner ride behind a bareback performer, than Pierce Browning when he’s in his wild humor.” Pierce laughed, and tilted his chair back, with his feet up on the porch rai ““Me! Why I'ma very baby behind a horse. I'll sue you next for defamation of character.” * And I’d much sooner risk paying damages that way, than getting damages behind your bays,” re- eertod Ben. ‘ But, by the way, what has become of Will lately? I have not seen him these three weeks.”’ “Oh! he’s alive and kicking,’ responded Harry Waters, whose slim, alert figure was leaning easily against a post. “Thave a notion, though, that he has a touch of woman on the brain. He seems to be getting dreadfully sweet on his fair friend, Clara Moreland.”’ “ All flirtation. Flirtation, every scrap of it,’’ cried . “Willis nota marrying man. And, speak- ing of that, do you know that the fair Clara has en- — gallant black for next week’s steeple- “The deuce she has!’’ ejaculated Ben, with a whistle. ‘ Not going to ride him herself, | hope?”’ “Tf she did I'd bet my bottom dollar on her,” re- lied Pierce, ‘‘ for she can ride like Jehu, when her blood’s up. Idon’t forget the time she led mea jolly chase past the Park rds, and laughed at me e bargain. [doubtif there is another woman wt og city that can hold acandle to her on horse- k, = oo if she rides I want to be there!"’ remark- ed Charley Lloyd, the host, joining the party. “But are any of you a entering horses for the October races? There is going to be some fine sport afloat on that occasion, if lam not much mis- taken. “There'll be — the cutest ridin’ you never seed!’ remarked a gray-haired negro hostler. ‘* An’ T knows a pint or two "bout de course; for I’s been * You bet he has!” assented the host, energetical- . “What Pomp don’t know about horses ain't worth knowing. Why, he was weaned on them; and has pocseree more races than any other man of his age in the country.” “T's rid more races,”’ protested the old fellow, a little offended. ‘' Neber jockeyed a race in my life; and, bress de Lord I neber will! Dat sort of fun ain't in dese ole bones.” “Oh! it is all right, Pomp, I was only joking,” re- plied the good-natured hos ‘* But, how is it, gentle- men; have any of you made entries for the races?” “Ask Pierce Browning. He’s the only horse-fan- cier in the crowd,” rejoined Ben Huntly. “For me, my strong hold is a pair of oars.”’ ‘And I never owned a racer in my life,”’ respond- ed the indolent giant. ‘ A quiet family-horse, now; an @asy-going pacer, warranted to stand locomo- tives, and to start at nothing except a bunch of hay. —EE mE | That’s my ideal of a horse. None of your break- necks for quiet Pierce Browning, say I.”’ A general laugh followed, as Pierce drew himsélf up with an air of offended dignity at the idea of being taken for a sporting character. “*At any rate Will Wildfire has made an entry,”’ continued the host. ‘“‘ Black Bess is down on the books for the races.”’ “That’s cool in Will!’ cried Pierce, rising to his feet excitedly. ‘‘ Does the boy want to be cleaned out? Why, the best horses in five hundred miles round are entered. There’s Lady Clare and Rover— what does he expect to do against such noted thor- oughbreds?”’ f ‘““Don’t you worry,” rejoined the h laying his finger mysteriously aside his nose. ‘ Will’s a young blood, who knows what is what. There’s better metal in Black Bess than is generally known. I wouldn’t say this only I know you're his friends, But I’ve had the lass in training. What have you to say for her, Pomp?” ** Sooner let her say it for herself,’ replied Pomp, with the same show of mystery. “ ce if I was young enuff to ride her, 'd make some folks open dere syes at de races, dat’s all.” ‘* Why, she has none of the points of a racer,”’ pro- tested Pierce. ‘“‘I have not seen her stepping out; but the very build of the horse is enough for me.”’ ‘*Appearances are deceitful, sometimes,’’ suggest- ed ae ** Spirit is of more account than shape, any day.”’ T And who denies that?” cried a cheery voice from the road, as the tread of a horse came to the ears of the preoccupied group. All eyes were instantly turned toward the speaker. They saw a tall, well-built, and well-dressed figure, with a very handsome, frank, and engaging face, whose youthfulness of appearance was added to by the faint lines of a budding mustache. He was seated on a large-framed horse, which he drew up in front of the “* Bell” as he spoke. ** Will Wildfire! or Old Nick never comes when he is called!" ejaculated Pierce. “Jump down, boy. We are talking of you and giving you anything but a good character.” “Allright. Talk it out, if you want. broke a man’s bones,”’ Will cheeril sprung with a light bound to the earth. Evidently the dashing young fellow was a favorite with the gray-haired jockey, from the haste with which the latter bustled up to wait upon him. ‘“*He = wants a minute’s breathing, Pomp. He’s from his oats,” explained Will. ‘ How are you, ellows? Glad to see you, Harry! Hey, Ben, I heard how you laid out Jack Price last week. Wish I had been there. Hallo, Pierce! How’sthis? Why don't you bring him out a sofa, Charley? It’s a confound- ed shame to leave him there on his feet.” “Do you think they could carry a better man?” retorted Pierce. ‘“‘Why, hang you, boy, you will have people bidding for me for a lazy bones next. If you give me the name, shoot me if 1 don’t have the game; so fetch along your sofa, landlord.” ** Haven't got any your measure,”’ replied the host, aise cally at Pierce's six feet three. “Is this all true we hear, Will?’ asked Ben. ‘“ Are you entering Black Bess for the Fall races?” j **Oh, yes!” replied Will, indifferently. ‘“‘She can’t be any more than beat, you know. And she will have plenty of pare in that.” “Tell that to the horse marines!’ ejaculated Pierce. ‘* You can’t come the don't-care game on me, Will Wildfire is not the chap to goin for a sure beat. You're calculating to win, you villain, or you'd be very clear of entering.” ‘*T can take my chance in the crowd,” Will smil- ingly replied. Talk never cried, as he ut do you know the blood that’s against you? There’s y Clare to trot against, for one.” “Oh, hang Lady Clare! e’s gota name. Buta name ain't always a game. Come, fellows, I'm as dry as a pitcher plant. Let us have something to Wet our whistles.” There was no objection raised to this proposition, and they entered the bar-room in prey: “What will you drink?” asked Will, as they stood together at the bar. . Ale for me,”’ responded Pierce. “Til try that prime old Madeira,’’ said Harry Waters, indicating the bottle with his finger. “And bless you all, gemmen. I won't mind a mouthful of old rye.” They looked around to see who was the owner of this hoarse voice. There stood a blear-eyed, ill-fa- vored old oper, who had silently ranged himself at the bar beside them. “Get out now, Jake,” cried the host severely. ‘**T will not have you disturbing my guests.”’ “Didn't this gemman call up the comp’ny?’ re- torted the old chap, in an offended tone. ‘I'll take three fingers of old rye, for mine.”’ Will turned and looked at the trembling hands and bloated face of the incorrigible old drunkard. **T don’t think he would be a good subject to waste a temperance lecture on,” said the young man, with a short laugh. ‘“‘He is bound to drink himself into the grave, so I suppose I may as well help him toa nail for his coffin. Give him a nerve-steadier, Char- ley. The landlord silently handed out bottle and glass. The old chap, nothing loth, turned out a brimming draught, and poured down the burning liquor as if it had been so much water. “Thank you, gemmen,’’ he muttered. ‘ That’s good fer an honest old feller’s bones. Yer ain’t got the nails in old Jake’s coffin yet.” There was a sinister look on the old chap’s face as he turned away. He was evidently treasuring up Will's words spitefully against him. Little cared Will for that, however. He was too ——— - -— ——— _- young to fully realize the truth of the old saying that a mouse can help or hurt a lion, In a few minutes more the whole party were on the road, Will on horseback, the others in the car- riage in which they had come to the Bell. As they rode off toward the city they gave little thought to the old toper, who was muttering revenge- fully to himself: ‘** Mebbe old Jake mought get some nails in your coffin fust, bold as you are.”’ CHAPTER I. OLD AND YOUNG JOCKEYS. Not more than half a mile from the locality of our last chapter, on a rising point in the road that led to Darby, stood a modest brick house, fronting the road to the west, and eastwardly looking far over the broad flat meadows through which wound the Schuylkill river, on its way to the not distant Dela- ware, The house was not particularly inviting in appear- ance, the only evidence of taste about it being a few of the common garden flowers, which grew in the front yard, while a small kitchen garden extended in the rear. Leaning over the fence was a stout-built, sinister- looking fellow, dressed in plaid pants and a well- worn knit jacket. Yet there was something of the sport about his general aspect, and in the jaunty way in which he wore his hunting cap. His whiskers were of the ‘*mutton chop” pattern, adding to the eneral English contour of his face. He held be- ween his teeth awell-colored meerschaum, from pe he was sending clouds of smoke into autum- nal air. “Till go a cow anda brace of sheep that I know the cut of that chap’s jib,’’ he muttered, looking to- ward ahorseman, who hed just turned a bend in the road, not faraway. “A blazing little dandy he always was; but he’s got some blood in him, I'll say that for Mark Preston.”’ The rider came rapidly up. He was of a small figure, one of those wiry builds that are apt to make up by agility for lack of strength. He was dressed with a neatness that closely approached to foppish- ness, while his long and well-waxed mustache gave = air of affectation to his otherwise good-looking ace. Drawing up his horse to a walk as he ascended the slight acclivity, he approached the spot where the man with the pipe seemed to await him with some waa f ‘“ Glad to twig you, Mr. Preston,” he cried, as the horseman came nearer. “I'll be hanged if you don't always manage to look as neat asa new pin. I be- lieve you could roll in a mud-puddle, and come out as if a tailor had just let go of you.” ‘*I wish I could say the same for you, Luke,” re- marked the horseman, as he checked the animal and brought him to a full stop. **Me! Oh, I'm a rough diamond! waste any rose-water on me.” Mark laughed as he sprung from his horse, and threw the rein over a paling of the fence. ‘** How’s business?’’ he asked. “It’s darned mean,” was the reply. thing’s gone wrong, since—” “Since you and I went into partnership, eh?” * Well, anyhow, ever since I tried to get even with that college snipe, young Wildfire. Blast him, he warped my cash first, scorched my back next, and last of all i burnt up all my furniture trying to scorch him : “But you got the insurance.,”’ ~s Nary insurance,”’ rejoined Luke, shaking his head. “Iwas a bit afeared to push matters in that Se eres) for there was some talk of sending me to Cherry Hill as a house-burner.—No, blast him, it all went; and here I am, trying to pick up a living in an honest way.” Mark looked into the hardened face of the man before him, and laughed pone gy ‘You are not ditching, anyhow,” he said. ‘No, Lain’t come to that yet.” Luke aig the meerschaum in his mouth, and uffed out its smoke with a complacency which in- cated that his physical labors were not of a very pene ~ here,” resumed Mark, with a cautious lance around him, “‘I don’t know how you feel: ut forme, I have no notion of letting up on Wil! yet. Don’t talk about the scorching he re you—look how he laid me out! Hang it, Luke, f I had got hold of Wildflower Hall, which is mine by right, I would have made a royal berth there for ou.” : ‘*Much you would!” cried Luke, with a contempt- nous laugh. ‘“‘None of that taffy. I ain’t that - n¢ Set “T'll swear I would,” persisted Mark. “ But that ain’t here nor there. I can’t give what I haven't got. But I'll tell you what it is, my boy, there’s some thing of the hornet in me. Ican sting twice in the same place. What say you? Shall we go for Wild. fire if an opening offers?” ~Sae “I'm your crow for a thousand!” ejaculated Luke. striking his rough hand into the white palm of the man before him. ; | “Do you know,” he continued, “it’s part tha which brought me out here? I wanted to be nea: Wildflower Hall, and keep an eye open for chances.’ ‘There may be a chance before we are muc} older,” suggested Mark, mysteriously. “Tm in with you, then, root and branch. get plenty of help if it is wanted,” “The young blood is going it heavy on horses,” continued Mark. “And Eve gota notion he’s cal u- lating to make a sweepstakes at the Suffolk Park You better not ** ivery- And can EComicbooks : f i > a