Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 152 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

Black Bess, Will Wildfire’s Racer. ——E ee *“Couldn’t sw’ar to it,’’ answered Pete. ‘‘Hearn ’em talkin’, but didn’t cotch de whole confab. But wie you b’lieve me. Don’t trust ole Jake roun’ whar dat hoss is." ‘Tell me if you see him fooling about the stable Pomp,” said the landlord. ‘“‘Iam not much afraid of him, but it is better to be sure thansorry. By the way, Pete, they are making objections to your driving in the race,” ‘Dey are?’ eried Pete indignantly. “Like ter know why. Bet none of °em kin beat me handlin’ de ribbons. Ain’t druv hosses two years, an’ them all racers fer nothin’.” “It’s not that. The trouble is about your weight. It’s no handicap race, and you are thirty pounds lighter than the other jockeys.” “Can't dey weight me?” asked Pete. ‘Let ’em ut ten poun’ in each boot, an’ ten poun’ more in my at, if dey can’t manage it no oder way.”’ ‘We will try and get it fixed,’’ replied Mr. Lloyd. ‘‘'The lass trots well under you, and itis too late to get her used to another driver. They must take you.” ** Jess say de word, an’ I'll make my breakfass on cast.iron an’ my dinner on cobble-stones,’’ asse Pete, ‘‘I’s boun’ to ride dat race or bu’st.”’ While this conversation was taking place in the stable of the Blue Bell, a conference, bearing on the same subject, was going on in the smoking-room at Wildflower Hall. Several of Will’s most intimate friends were pres- ent, Pierce Browning, Ben Huntly, Harry Waters, and one or two others. They were seated around a table on which stood glasses and an open bottle of wine, flanked by a tray of cigars. —_ Pierce had taken his usual attitude, his chair tilted back at a dangerous angle, while light clouds of cigar smoke wreathed airily around his bushy head. The others had assumed various attitudes of ease, and the air of the room was hazy with the pungent vapor of the Indian weed. ; “Itis just as I said,” remarked Ben, laughingly. “Tt isa catching fever. Pierce has taken it bad.” All right,”’ replied Pierce, easily. “‘I am _ not in- sured against it.”’ . “Do you know,” continued Ben, winking to. the others, *‘ he is wasting his substance on Black Bess? I don’t know how many thousand he has laid on her now.”’ “T don’t know myself,” responded Pierce, follow- ing with his eye a wreath of smoke. ‘There it goes, up, up, up. Don’t be trying to blow it down. ta a fellow be happy while he may.” “The lady is soing to win that race,” said Will, positively. * y, bless you, boys, I’ve got her sad- dled with a large slice of my fortune. Do you fancy I will let her fail now?” ' “T hear some talk about the little darky you have at the ribbons,”’ remarked Harry Waters. “‘Is it nite safe, Will, to trust a boy like that with a racer? What can he know about horses?” * He is a natural jockey,” replied Will. “‘He takes to horses like a kitten to milk. And he has been in steady training at driving for two years now. You see, old Pomp has taken the boy in hand. He can drive the ugliest brute in Charley Lloyd’s stables. ' “ And what.Pomp don’t know_ about horses isn’t worth knowing,” broke in Ben Huntly. , “ But will they let him drive?” asked Harry. “‘ He is under weight.” ‘That can be fixed,’ answered Will, easily. ‘‘ But come, boys, you are not doing duty to the sherry. There stands the bottle as nsolate as a lam that has lost her mother.” ‘T don't hear it bleating,’’ remarked Ben. “ You shall, then,” said Will, tipping the bottle till the wine gurgled over into a glass. “Jtistoo old a brand to make much noise over it, yol see, Come, Ben, wash that joke down or you will never appre- ciate it,” and he forced the brimming glass into Ben's hand. , ‘‘ Here, fellows,” he continued, neue the glasses “let us drink success to Black Bess. [know you will all bespone’ to that toast. Here’s to the lass that’s booked to win the race!” “Success to her heels, and. to my bets,”’ cried Pierce, as he swallowed the light wine at a mouth- ful, . Hang it, I could waste a river of sherry in the same cause.”’ | “There’s so much more of you. than of common folks,’ remarked Harry, while Will quietly refilled Pierce’s glass. “ Yes: that’s a joke which it seems to me that I have heard somewhere before,” retorted Pierce, as he balanced the light glass between finger and thumb. ‘It’s. light, like sherry. I can, take them down together, and no danger of strangling. ‘And you are heavy, like port,” replied Harry, laughing, : “Go on,” rejoined the giant, leaning back in his chair. ‘It amuses you, and it don’t hart me, as the man said, when he let his wife broomstick him. “T say, Will,” cried Ben, “how about that bur- lary? as there been any clew found to the vil- ains?’ ‘*No. They have given us the slip.” , “You capital their wagon, one And all the goods in it? I don’t see that there is any loss, then; and you are a horse and wagon the winner. “The papers have not the whole story,” said Will, quietly. ie emer private documents are missing. Some of them of great importance. The thief seems to have been some one who knew their value, and where to look for them.” ‘‘ But that should give a clew to the burglars. May- be her old friend, Mark Preston, is at the bottom of it. What are the police doing about it?’ “That is something of a secret,” replied Will. ‘‘ If it got abroad it would put the rogues on their guard.”’ “Tt will har ly get out from any one here,” re- plied Harry. ‘ We are all true grit, : fancy.” | © —_— = ‘‘Speak for yourself, Harry,” retorted Pierce. | Joe Bundy to see her action. You know Joe? What “Hang me, if I ever like to trust myself too far! I don’t know that I put myself out of the way to tell anybody's secrets; but they have a confounded sly way of creeping from me. Before I know I have said a word, the whole thing is adrift.” “T am not much afraid of you,” laughed Will. ** As for the police, they are trusting to the memory of the horse. They are driving him on all the roads that lead out of the city, with the notion that he will let them know when he gets near home,”’ “That's not bad,”’ cried Ben. ‘‘ Any sign yet?” “No. They have tried him out at the Ridge, the Frankfort Pike, and some other roads, but they seem all strange to the animal.”’ : ‘Tt will end like the sure clews of the police al- ways end,” rejoined Pierce, rising with a yawn. ‘““Won’t amount to a pinch of snuff, you will find that. Come, gentlemen, let’s stretch our limbs a little. It is too fine to keep within doors.” They followed him out into the porch, where a soft south-west air was gently lifting the tendrils of the vines, and beyond which, on lofty arbors, a wealth of grapes hung purpling in the sun, But let us return againto the stables of the “Bell.” Pomp had been for some time through with his labors, and was dene 1g the porch of the hotel, retailing to Pete some of his old experience on the turf. In the stables Black Bess stood tranquilly in her stall, munching at her feed, while nearly a dozen horses, right and left of her, were engaged in the same pleasant occupation. And everything was lovely about that locality, even to the pigeon that sat cooing on the roof of the shed, the chic en that stood on one leg on the horse- trough, fondly fancying it a fence-rail, and the lazy old veteran who leaned so supinely against the side | of the stable. A veteran he was, but not of human wars. His service had been performed against whisky, and he had been conquered much oftener than he over- come his fiery antagonist. But for once old Jake was sober. Sober for him, that is—as sober as a whisky-barrel can be when emptied of its contents, but with all its timbers thor- oughly soaked in strong liquor. “Too nice a day to stand out in the sun,” mutter- ed Jake to himself. ‘*‘ And sunlight never was good for my constitution. Guess I'll go inside.” But his movemert toward the stable door was not his usual bold advance. It was more of a slow glide, broken by intervals of rest and of winking at he blinking hen. Evidently he wanted to give any chance observer the idea that he was utterly with- out an object in the world; and, as usual, took the very wrong means to do so. The stable door was not locked. He opened it with lazy caution, and slipped in, pulling it to after him. Yet despite his care a slight noise was made in this evolution, causing Pete to lift his head. His vigilant ear had caught the sound from the direction of the stable. Meanwhile Jake moved through the stable with much less show of lazy lack of purpose. He listen- ed for a moment to the Sgn of the horses, to hear if any human sound mingled with it. Then he walked straight to the stall of Black Bess, touching her gently with his harid. The inte nt animal moved uneasily, instinctively feeling that this was no accustomed touch. **'W’'oa, Bess! W'oa, 1,” said the intruder, strok- ing her sleek side. ** Easy, easy, sweetheart. It’s only old Jake. Don’t stir, sweet. Got something nice for you.” He worked his way toward the horse’s head, she still trampling uneasily. She looked around at . with a gleam of savage light in her eyes. Evidently the creature suspected the presence of an enemy in this creeping figure beside her. “Steady, steady,’’ muttered Jake, soothingly. “Easy, gal. Don’t know old Jake? You oughter know old Jake.” ““T know old Jake,’? came a stern voice behind aoe anon black-hearted old bloat, come out of ere!” A vigorous hand caught him at the same instant by the collar, and with one jerk landed him in the middle of the stable floor. In an instant the old fellow was drunk again to all ei deme his limbs growing limp, his voice maudlin. “Reckon yain’t done no harm. “ Y‘needn’t jerk a feller outer his boots,”’ he ejaculated, ‘“* Yar’s yer old hogs. Jist coaxin’ him up a bit ’cause he looked so lonely, kinder.” oo lonely, did he?” cried Charley Lloyd, still grasping the old chap’s collar. ‘Bet I make you look lonely before I am done Ma ee he And he applied his boot to Jake’s with a vim and rapidity of action equal to old Tony Weller’s exercise on the n. At the same time he ran him headlong out of the stable, landing him, with one last kick, head-foremost in an odorous heap of manure. “Lie there, you old bloat. And if I catch you in my stable again I will have you locked up for your A loud yaw! yaw! from old Pomp, and a shrill ya! P ig: from Pete, accompanied this maneuver. “Dat’s ole Jake’s rations,” cried Pomp. ‘Ef he totes hisself back yere ag’in, see’f I don’t smash his head wid de pitchfork, sure’s you live.” The discomfited conspirator picked himself up and limped p away, followed by the jeering laughs and gibes of Pomp and his opt. CHAPTER XI. | SPORT AND EARNEST. “You may talk as you please, but Will Wildfire’s horse is bound tocarry off that race I was out with lg a other folks know about horses is what Joe has for- otten. Well, Joe says she’s got win in her, and I'll ack Joe’s opinion with my money, any day.”’ ‘*T wouldn’t jump for the chance, if I were you,”’ was the reply. ‘‘The horse ain’t worth shucks. I’ve seen her going. Why, her figure is enough to con- demn her.” The speaker was Mark Preston. His face was very pale. His broken arm, in splints, was hung ina tight sling, which left it no freedom of motion. “Take my advice; don’t bet on it,’ answered the first speaker. “Tl go a thousand on it, with any man that dare bet me. And rake it in, too,” cried Mark positively. “Tl take that bet,’ replied the other. “But I warn you in advance that I have a sure thing of it. I don’t want to rob you, Mark.” ‘*“Much you'll rob me,” exclaimed Mark, excitedly. “* Shall I book the bet?”’ “Yes, If you are bound to get rid of your money, I might as well fall heir to it as any one else.”’ There was’a hollow sound in the laugh with which Mark received this remark. ‘When I find a tub winning in a race with a clip- per, then I will take Black Bess stock; but not sooner,” he asserted. The bet booked, Mark moved on through the One shrinking from any contact with his injured arm, but eagerly listening to all comments on the coming race. Since the date of our last visit to Mace’s there had been a considerable change in public opinion. Black Bess’s ober nces in training had become the talk of the town, and she was becoming the favorite. In the ‘pee she had gradually reached par with Rover and Lady Clare, and now stood ata premium above all other competitors. In private bets odds were laying in her favor. It was now the afternoon be- fore the day of the race, and the betting had grown ——s heavy. A good deal of money was likely to change hands on the performances of the best time trotters. The matches between second-rate horses were neglected as the tide of feeling ran higher on the three brag racers. Ben Huntly touched Will Wildfire on the arm, and motioned him to follow to a room out of the crowd. ‘* As sure as you live, Will, you were right. There is some deviltry afloat,’’ exclaimed Ben, as soon as they were out of ear-shot. “Deviltry? Where, how, and when?” asked Will, in surprise. “About the race, I mean. I thought you were scared without cause, at first. But 1 will bet high, now, that there is bottom to it.”’ ‘* What has happened, Ben?’’ “Don't you see? Yonder is Mark Preston, looking like a ghost, and his arm hardly begun to heal. Itis no trifle that has brought him out on the betting floor to lay odds against Black Bess. He is taking - every bet that offers.”’ ** Acainst Black Bess?” “Yes. I heard him lay a thousand, even up, not ten minutes ago. There is something in the wind, Will. He knows what is in the horse, as well as you do. Take my word for it, he is not going to let her win if he can help it.” ‘**T thought so,” replied Will thoughtfully. ‘“‘ Had I better face him with it?’ **Face him, the devil, no! This isn’t the place for a knock-down 8) ieee But take my advice. Send word to Charley Lloyd to put a strict guard on the horse to-night. She will be poisoned, or sickened in some fashion, if they can get at her. By thunder, I’d shoot. the villain that lifted a hand to hurt her.” **T don’t know but you are right,” said Will, still in et thought. **It does no harm to look out for ae Write to Lloyd at once. Or send him word. Lend me your team and I will run out there myself. It will not do to risk a blunder now.” “Thank you, Ben. I would go myself, but I am otherwise engaged.”’ With Will Wildfire’s usual habit of strik the iron while it was hot, this project was immediate] put into execution. Ben drove off toward the Bell, while Will took a street car and proceeded up-town to the residence of Clara Moreland. He found this young lady in the parlor, at the 0, , ina rich contralto voice, the charm- ing, yet touching song of Heimweh. er voice lingered on the pathetic ee es until her unseen listener felt his heart softened, and a yy te moisture gathered in his eyes. Bravo!” he exclaimed, a little med of this involuntary agar “Well done, sweet singer.” She turned hastily at this exclamation, and the loud hand-clapping with which Will accompanied it. = Wont) tPA at last!’ she ejaculated, hastily rising. ‘Where have you been, you sinner, since—”’ ** Since .Tuesday,’’ supplied Will. “Why that not quite a soto it tet ae you ect making ro sorry eno or ringing tears my eyes w this | ortotis music.”’ Grn fs4 “Dont slander it now, or I will send you away rg she cried, making as she would close his li with her,hand. “It is just charming, and I cou sing it until—until—I cried like a child.” “And everybody else like babies,” said Will. “* But that is not to the oa Is there anything further from the police? Have they discovered the lost trace?”’ “No,” was her reply, in a tone of Spor Oe tment. ‘And I put so much confidence in them, . I felt so sure they would track the ie eee RS “You aneophias git,” aughed Will, ‘to ut confidence in the police. Why that is worse han crying over a-song.—But what have they done?”’ “They say they are sure—from circumsiancey Eboo com Ss (E@) ee ee ee ee, ee 8 ER ee eer ee ee eee