Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 152 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

hislip. ‘I have not wasted his strength like those 4 It was, indeed, a bustling and attractive scene to | : which they entered. The other laughed at the idea of any thing bird- | blockheads yonder. He will go over it like a bird.” like about Pierce and his horse. But the next mo- ment they were facing the hedge. It was about three feet in hight, and the two horses went over it side by side with graceful ease. But in the plowed ground beyond there was a change. Horse after horse was dragging heavily through it, fetlock deep in the clinging soil. Here the reserve strength of the “elephant.” began to tell. The black soil flew from behind his striding heels, ashe rushed forward with remarkable. speed, rapidly overhauling the struggling horses in advance, ‘*A race is never settled till the winning post is reached,” remarké@ Pierce, coolly, looking back at wwe late neighbor, who was fast dropping behind iim. A half mile more, and the chief obstacle of the race appeared before the eyes of the excited riders. This was a broad, deep ditch, level with the field, and varying from fifteen to eighteen feet in width. Several of the riders hesitated as they came in sight of this formidable obstacle; The foremost horse balked, and could not be made to take the leap. Others rode off to the right and left, in search of a narrower crossing. The next who approached, a heavy-bearded fox- hunting farmer, drove his horse straight at the ob- stacle, touching him sharply with whip and spur as he faced the wide liquid reach. The noodle animal rose and sprung from his tracks. But his fortune was not in accordance with his courage. His hind legs struck the water, sinking deep in the ditch. ut the experienced horseman was off in an in- stant, tugging vigorously at the reins, and aiding the struggling creature with all his strength. A min- ute’s hard fight, and the horse was again on dry land, and with his master in the saddle. “If you dare!” cried Mark Preston, turning to Clara, and repeating her former words, while he pointed tauntingly forward. Her eyes flashed. She would have crossed the ditch now if she died for it. Her foe was a few strides in advance. His well- trained horse rose pry f to the ditch, taking him lightly over, though his heels dashed the water. And then, with a quick turn of the rein, the horse swerved around, coming side on to the point at which Selim was just rising to the leap. The black hesitated and balked at this obstacle, dropping almost on his haunches in his effort to re- cover. Clara kept her saddle, however, while a loud, sneering laugh came from her foe. It was not ig eto For at that instant a huge animal, bestrode by a huge rider, shot past her, and took the leap with a mighty spring. The great beast landed safely on the opposite bank, striking Mark Preston's horse on the flank with his off shoulder. A laugh of scorn came from the lips of the gigantic rider, as horse and man rolled helplessly to the ground. ‘“That’s a game that two can play at,” cried Pierce Browning, for it was he. The next instant the mighty bay was running like a mettled racer for the goal, only distanced by two of his competitors. New shouts now arose. The close was reached, two of the fox-hunting farmers coming in as first and second, while Pierce Browning rode in as an easy third, In a few minutes afterward several others of the racers came in, not latest among them was Clara Moreland, who had again headed her horse at the ditch, and crossed it at a leap. As for Will Wildfire he had turned away with a laugh from the scene of Mark Preston's misfortune, and was seeking an easier spot to cross. The fallen man had yet shown no signs of ability to rise again to his feet. CHAPTER V. THE RACE DINNER, Be ‘‘Yrs, for a good thousand,” remarked Pierce Browning, resting his shoulder lazily against the wal). ‘ {don’t know but I would have come in first, only I didn’t want to take all the starch out of your country riders. A thousand isn’t a bad) lift for ten minutes’ work. “ You might as easily have made it ten,’ was the reply. ‘You could have taken any quantity of bets against yourself.’ : . you. But that ain't my way. Except when I find folks eager to invest their spare cash, I pe a valuable minute, too, in punishing & scoun- rel,” ‘* By Jove but you gave him a settler!’ cried the other. “A broken arm or shoulder, 1 am not sure which. And the r beast had to be shot. He was sma py ruined.—I pity the animal a good deal more than I do the man. There is only one opinion in re- gard to his conduct,” ‘Hey, Will!” exclaimed Pierce, as his youthful friend passed. ‘ Where have you stabled your nag? You were not expecting to win a race with that OTL he, hang ed if I thought it was in you,” re 8) Ww ’ » joined Wil turning and shaking the hand which Pierce lazily cxtpesiod ‘‘Where in the world did you oe up @ horse fit to carry your weight at that “To tell the truth,” replied the giant, almost in a whisper, “I didn’t how all that = in him myself until I shook out his s . The brute surprised me as well as everybody on the field.” “He surprised Mark Preston, I imagine,”’ laughed Will. ‘‘But come in. ‘The dinner is set, and the folks are crowding to the table. A deuce of an ap- petizin set-out, too. The White Horse ain’t bad at & race er.’ —— ee —————e ee ee A table that groaned with good ae extended the full length of the dining- room, while another, of equal length, was set in the wide hall. The seats were already nearly all occupied with the | contestants and lookers-on at the race, and the rattle Black Bess, Will Wildfire’s Racer. of knife, fork, and spoon, wasin full play as Pierce | and Will entered. **Here! Here!” cried a dozen voices, ‘The head of this table is reserved for our giant rider. For Pierce Browning, the horse-demolisher and man- smasher.”’ ‘Couldn't help it,”’ said Pierce, as he slid into the designated seat. ‘*That beast of mine is down on villains, of every grade and color, I could no more have held him in than—”’ ‘““Much you tried!’ exclaimed a voice from the bottom of the table. ‘*There is no usein advertis- ig yourself as worse than nature made you.”’ ‘Oh! T have an indifferent spite against rogues,” replied Pierce, easily.—‘* Yes, a cut of the roast beef if you please.—And let it be rare.” ‘* At all events I have to thank you, Mr. Browning,” spoke Clara Moreland, who was seated at the table, a short distance below him, “ I escaped by a miracle from being thrown.”’ ‘*Ilam only sorry for one thing,” returned Pierce, ‘** that it was the horse instead of the man that got a settler.—Shall I trouble you to pass the pepper, sir? Thanks.—Yes, if Mark Preston’s neck had been broken—the cheese, did you say?—l doubtif there would have been many tears shed.” Will had found a seat beside Clara, to whose com- fort he devoted himself with the most earnest atten- tion. There were many other ladies at the table, and the whole scene was a most brilliant and bust- ling one. The rattle of plates and glasses, the eager buzz of conversation, the occasional bursts of laughter, the busy movements of the waiters, contributed to make the affair a success, while the viands disappeared with a celerity that showed there were some noble country appetites present. ‘* Mine host of the White Horse is a royal caterer,”’ prs iC gp Will. ‘“*He has done himself infinite credit.” ‘*Can you reach the salad?” asked his fair friend. “Certainly,” replied Will, stretching across the table for the dish. ‘‘Shali I not help you to a slice of the chicken?’’ ‘* A very small piece of the breast,”’ she answered. ‘And you must try my favorite dish, Miss More- land,” cried Pierce, ‘There is nothing like lobster for the nerves. Let me help you.” ‘No; thank you. I have been very well served.” ‘*But you don’t mean to say that after such a neck-or-nothing dash you are going to satisfy your- self with a morsel of a pullet?”’ “T would rather not boast of m appetite,”’ she ** But I think laughingly rejoined. have done full duty to the dinner.” ‘**Done your cag 2 exclaimed the plant, cutting another huge slice from the round of beef before him. ‘‘ Heaven help your appetite, if that is what =~ call doing your duty! expect to make a fam- ne in the land before I get through. Come, Will, pass up your plate. Here is a mighty sirloin that will never do to retreat from.” ‘*‘A small slice, then,” answered Will. ‘‘ You have been so busily engaged that you don’t know what yeoman service we have performed down this way.’’ ce It does look as if a small cyclone had struck that art of the table,” replied Pierce, with a quizzical ook. “One would have pre fos there was enongh to serve a regiment, and now there is only a beggar- ly array of empty dishes. Yes, Ill give in. fancied I had an appetite; but when we look upon this picture and on that it is easy to see where the famine has set in.” A loud laugh followed this remark, and a volley of jests followed, rolling from end to end of the table. The devotion to trencher duty at the opening of the feast was, in fact, now giving way toa more dainty choosing of favorite morsels, while the repressed conversation broke ovt ina lively and rapid Y- ing of jokes, and ia frequent bursts of merry ahs : ter. “T have not heard a word said about the elephant,” remarked Pierce, Dashing away his img A plate. ‘‘Is there anybody present who burning stake his money against that slow-going brute?’ *“No, thank you kindly,”’ rejoined a young man below him. ‘I have already sunk a hundred in my doubt of elephantine speed. I hardly think I wi lay any more bets against your menagerie.”’ ‘Lam open,” responded Pierce, leaning back lazily “if any gentleman is anxious to make a stake off of & poor, over-confident boy, like me.” 0 winen : sp yO Seem. it will be ota Se ve quit flying,’’ remar e yo man, ¢ ly. “lam a victim of misplased contldenice. F e guests were now ra v e e, an making room for others who had been crowded out from the first spread. Our friends, too, rose and walked out into the porch. oe Will you not have an ice, Miss Moreland?” asked ree. - ‘No; thank you. What a beautiful view we have from here. What is that distant line of woods?”’ “That is far off in the Jerseys,” replied Will. ‘No, you must excuse me. I don't care to smoke.” This last sentence was in response to a suggestion from Pierce. “Then you will permit me?” “Certainly. Every man is a free agent out in this country air.”’ ““ What was dove with Mark Preston?” asked Clara, 5 Pierce lounged away to get his ~ turning to Will, as cigar. ‘Some of his friends took charge of him,’’ was the reply. “I cannot say where they have taken him.” ‘And was he really badly hurt?” ‘*Not so badly as he deserved. his worst trouble.” “ldo not wish him harm,’ A broken arm is ** And 9 she rejoined. | yet I certainly cannot pity him for his hurt.” “ Pity him!” said Will, with set lips. right. “Pierce is It would have served the scoundrel right if he had gotten a broken neck instead of a broken arm.” The scene about them was very animated, From _ within the house the rattle of dishes showed that the | | | ta | feast was still going on with full vim. The porch was filled with those who had been fortunaté enough to get to the first table. A constant buzz of conver- sation and incessant movement gave tlhe charm of activity, while inthe broad open space in front a long array of carriages was already in motion, and active horsemen rode to and fro amid the throng, now halting to converse, now pushing forward as if in haste in their homeward journey. Over all, the bright September sun poured. its gleaming light, enkindling the broad sweep of the meadows, the distant woodlands and the flashing waters of the noble Delaware, into a beauty of the most charming type. **I think I could stay here for hours,’ murmured Clara, her eyes fixed on the busy and brilliant spec- cle. ** And I with you,” responded Will, in a low, earn- est tone. She gave a quick glance around. Their eyes met with an earnest look. For a minute they stood in silence. “Yet there is the necessity of getting back to Philadelphia to drag us away from this charm,” she smnilingly said. ‘‘ Had we not better be going?” “If you wish,” he replied. In fifteen minutes more they were upon the road, Clara’s noble black stepping out as briskly as if he had not already done such severe duty that day. “TIT have some more respect for that horse of yours,”’ she said, looking at Will's unpromising mount. ‘‘ He kept up very well with the front rank,’ ** He is not much to look at,’’ rejoined Will. “ But there is good duty in him. I borrowed him for the day from an old fox-hunting neighbor.” “Oh! you have been sailing under false colors, then? But why did you not bring ont Black Bess?” ‘**She is no leaper,’’ replied Will, “‘and I have bet ter duty laid out for her before many days.”’ Thus conversing, they rode on, passing many other occupants of the road, and exchanging greet- ings with numerous acquaintances. they neared the city the line of horses and carriages became much thinner, and the voices of the young couple fell into a lower tone, as the pace of their horses was allowed to slow almost into a walk. But this confidential conversation was rudely broken into. *“Come!”’ cried a cheery voice behind them, “No whispe in company, if you please.” It was the voice of’ Pierce De ene. & The next instant his great horse had pushed up beside them, effectually breaking up any private interview. CHAPTER VI. THE EFFECT OF TOO MUCH CURIOSITY. Ir was near sundown on the evening of the race when Will Wildfire passed the “ Bell’ on his home- ward journey, crossed the bridge leading over Cobb’s creek, and rode slowly along the level reach extending toward Darby. A half-mile in this diree- tion brought him to the foot of a long slope, up which he let his weary horse ascend at a waik. Near the summit of this acclivity stood a road- side house, which he had often passed without no- ticing it, but which was not destined to escape his attention on this occasion. It was, in fact, the resi- dence occupied, unknown to him, by his mortal enemy, Luke Lister. As Will rode slow ly past,engaged with his thoughts, and paying no heed to his surroundings, his atten- tion was suddenly arrested by a loud cry, in a voice well-known to him, that seemed to come from some locality near the sky. “Hey! whoop! hallo! Marse Will!’ came the voice. ‘“Yere Lis! *Wayup yere! Topdechimbly! Law- see, Marse Will, I's proper tired of ‘t; but dar ain’t no way to 'squatulate. I's jess a pris’ner.”’ Will's vision, which had been wandering in all directions for the sound of the voice, now caught sight of an object at which he broke into an involun- tary laugh. For there, perched upon the chimney of the house opposite him, looking much like a miniature edition of Kriss Kringle done in charcoal, sat his boy Pete, bis coat hanging in rags about him, while his original color was by no meansim- . proved by a thick coating of soot. “ How in the world did you get there?’’ cried Will, as soon as he could repress his laughter. ‘How in de.world is I to get way from yere? Dat’s more like it,’ return Pete, indignantly. ‘* Guess [ll git down fust ‘fore I ‘gin to tell stories. But we here to tell the story which Pete could well to be excused from under the c stances. He had, in fact, been for several hours an enforced inmate of the house.. About three o'clock that af- ternoon, after one of his usual confabs with old Peas Pete had reached that locality on his way ome. The remembrance of his last visit there, and of the discoveries then made, recurred to him, together with his disgust at his young master’s lack of curiosity. - ‘Pears like as Marse Will ain’t got no gumption,” CORNICE OOOKS. (EC)