Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 187 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

12 Phe landlord, without delay, sent Fred out a sub- stantial meal, arranged with more abundance than taste on a little square table. But as it was abun- dance rather than taste which Fred just then desir- ed, he did not hesitate to attack the viands with all the zeal of a apey man. “* Won't you take a noggin of ale, to wash it down?”’ inquired the landlord. ‘It’s dry eating.”’ ; a if Ido, being’sit’s you,’’ returned Fred, carelessly. Unhappy noggin of ale. It was something the boy was not accustomed to, and it went to his head, giv- ing him a swimming sensation that was not agree- able. Fred stretched himself at full length on the bench, with his arm under his head fora pillow. He felt so much more comfortable in that attitude, and could to i the lay of the land about the Red Lion equally we It was surprising what a monstrous fi that Red Lion became, when closely observed. It was only a lion toa vivid imagination at the best. But it aed comings Fred a cross nee i bear, diner potamus and a few ‘ges n extrao creature took it into its queer head to step out of its frame, and take a stroll up the street of Crocketts- town, snapping up eve ttle dog it met, and lick- its lips afterward with a curious forked tongue. he monster had its eyes on the reclining youth. He tried to rise, fearing that he might be snap up like the unfortunate dogs, but it was impossible. Something held him firmly to the bench. And now the creature stood beside him, flaring down upon him with eyes which looked wonderfully like those of the mate of the Triton. In fact the whole face bore an odd resemblance to that of this individual. Fred turned uneasily in his sleep, The fact fs, though it did not seem so to him, he was dreaming. The monster was but a phantasm built out of “‘a noggin of ale,”’ s turn broke the current of his dream. He now suddenly found himself on board the Triton, flinging the log-book down to the mate, whose up- lifted hand looked like the head of the vanished monster, the parent on his finger seeming a single great, green, gleaming eye. This persistent infusion of the mate into Fred's dream was not without its physical cause. For that individual really stood above him, looking down ance the sleeping face. e had started out for an after-supper stroll through the diminutive town, and at a glance recognized something familiar in the form of the sleeping boy on the porch of the rivalinn. A red fi came into the embrowned face of the mate, as he lightly stepped up into the porch, and looked down upon the sleeper. One glance at the boy’s face, and there came an oath from his lips as hoarse as a hurricane, and full of the saltiest flavor of the deep sea. “Trapped!”’ he ejaculated. “And by that infer- nal young rat who been in our meal-bag for the last two weeks. I’d best have left him in the ditch, as Long Bill advised. But it’s not too late, yet, to eut the young hound’s weasand.” Half the blade of a dangerous-looking knife dopa in the low rays of the sun, while a wicked k came into the eyes of the stern-featured man. “Tt won’t do, though,” he continued. ‘‘Folks are too thick about here. And the rascal had a hand in taking me from the Triton. Hang him! he’s as as a steel-trap, or he’d never got to the wind- ward of us this way. Butif I don’t circumvent him while he’s snoo , then tell me I don’t knowa ea -bar from a -pin.”’ e walked quickly away, leaving Fred to the un- disturbed enjoyment of his slumber. In afew min- utes more he was in deep consultation with the captain, their wonder be specially exercised to understand how they had n recognized as the smungeiers, and followed to this out-of-the-way lo- “Te can’t be,” said the captain, decidedly. “It’s just impossible. He ishereonsome other business.” “Then his other business has struck him quick, for It ed the chap this afternoon on the plat- form at h City. Ithought then he was playing shy—tacking and round asif he had game in his eye. Blast him! I didn’t reckon we were the game! We’ve got to shift harbor while he’s snoozing, Cap.” **It looks thundering like it,” replied the a pon s “Tt would not show well on the log for two ol like George Carstairs and Jake er to be outsailed by a jolly-boat like this boy.” ept on, unaware of the tempest he had raised. He slept, in fact, till the loud rattle of wheels in the quiet street aroused him to a sense of somet besides an uvian monsters. ' The iy 4 sprang baenly to his feet, conscious in an instant that he been off duty. His first look was toward the Red Lion ; t dread brute had returned to its frame, was docilely swinging in the dope. air. The second look was at the vehicle whose coming had awakened him. It had stopped in front of the Black Horse Inn, and its occupants were looking at Fred with the pee surprise. Nor was = “ee ag less an the on recognizing the faces of Harry ‘*What in the world brings you here?’ exclaimed the latter. ‘“‘I thought you were in New York.” **My pigeors did not M ht,” answered Fred, coolly. ‘‘ And what in the world brings you here? I aie pigeon aid ty semehtY answred. “ Our eon ,” answe arry Bains & se ht to scettat . alias wn. We've chased him twenty now. If you’d kept your weather eye open, you’d have him.” — ‘“*That’s true,’’ said Fred, apologeti “*Tt’s all the fault of a noggin of ale. How long have I been asleep, landlord?” he asked of that personage, who had dust appeared. ‘*A matter of a good hour I should calculate,”’ re- plied that individ looking toward the sun, then near its setting. ‘‘ You were having such a time of it that I didn’t want to disturb you.” “T wish you had, then,’’ returned “* Any- thing been going on around here while I was wasting time snoozing?’ “There was a chap from the Red Lion over here awhile ago, taking a look at you. I just caught sight of him with his eyes on you as if he thought you’d make very good eating. ‘““What sort of a man?”’ asked Fred, quickly. ‘*A short, heavy-set fellow, with a mahogany face, and ugly enough to turn milk sour.”’ ‘*You are sure he came from the Red Lion?’ “He trotted back there straight as a die.’’ ““We are badly sold, then,’’ exclaimed Fred, with a disconsolate look. ‘‘And it’s all my fault. If there’d been no use in ateying awake I'd have been as Spry as a nee ut just now, when a fel- low wanted all his Hang it, landlord, it was all your noggin of ale!”’ Harry Bains laughed at Fred’s disconsolate man- ner. ‘“‘See here, my friend,” he said to the landlord. “Has there been anything else stirring? We are on the track of a hollow-cheeked, sandy-whiskered coon, in a one-horse vehicle. Have you seen such a customer? “The identical chap drove into the Red Lion yard 2 hour ago, just r this young man went to ee Cake “The deuce fy say! Then we are wasting time here.” He gat ered up the reins to drive on. ‘*Hold up, Harry,” said Mr. Proctor. ‘“‘ We may find more than we for, with our two burly sailors as reénforcements to the fisherman.”’ ‘“* Don’t count on them,”’* remarked Fred, gloomily. “*T bet a cow everything is rose-colored now, and the whole party five miles away.” ‘* You are right there,’ volunteered the landlord. “They drove away ee ae ago with Jim Bundy’s best horse in the fts.”’ “The blazes jag he gh cried Harry. ‘“‘ Then our chase ain’t done, that’s all How many were in the carriage?” . “Three, The man you call the fisherman, the ae man and another tall, fine-looking fel- ow.”’ “And have you a horse that can mate Jim Bundy’s?”’ asked Mr. Proctor. ‘* Yes; and beat him hollow.” “Put him in our shafts then quick as lightning. We've got to overhaul those coons or bu’st!’’ ex- claimed Harry. ‘*What’s up?” asked the landlord, curiously. “‘Time’s up,” cried Harry. ‘* You can do your questioning after you've done your work,”’ At this imperative and fierce rejoinder the land- lord hurried away. These were evidently not men to be trifled with. “And Ill take a turn down to the Red Lion,” an- nounced Fred. ‘I’m curious to see Jim Bundy.” Our youth walked quickly down the street in front of the rival inn. It was an old-fashioned building with stee bles and long, low outhouses. In fron a ae and horse-trough, seeming- ly the resort of journeyers through that quiet country town. <A teamster was there now, watering his dusty and thirsty horses. On the porch stood a man who was ng with the roughly-dressed horseman. Fred looked keenly at this individual. He was a small-framed, thin man, but with the wiry aspect of one capable of great exertion. His face was little more t skin and bone, and was deeply embrown- ed as if from constant exposure to the sun, There was an undefinable air about him of the sailor, which had first attracted the boy’s attention. “Tf that’s Jim Bundy,” thought Fred, *‘ he must have been burnt deep, for n years haven’t aoe him. Guess I'll cross over for a closer 0o0 ahd That it was Jim Bundy there was soon no doubt, for he heard the teamster address hlm by that name. Fred looked at him, as he the porch, with a deep and searching scrutiny. There was something liar about the man’s eyes. They had a wander- , uncertain way, and did not seem capable of keeping themselves on any object for more than a minute at a time. As the lad passed these doubtful organs rested up- onhim. For a wonder they became fixed, riveted upon Fred’s countenance. dy fell back a step, a strange look coming into his face. _ “Where have I seen those eyes?” he muttered. ‘*TIgit the face of—?” He eg in seeming per- plexity. ‘The Monsoon—the Monsoon—”’ ese words came from him as if in an effort to recall some forgotten event of the t. It was a half- frightened expression with which he continued to regard the young man. A fellow might think you knew me,” said Fred, looking him s gn ken bo the face. ‘* Never see’d you before,” replied the man, with a peculiar movement of the head. “It were some other chap I were a-thinkin’ of.” His face grew cunning as he spoke. He had evi- deny recovered from surprise. “Farewell, then,” responded Fred, lightly, walk- away. So that is Jim Bundy,” he cogitated. ‘‘And what is ‘the Monsoon’? I'd give my hat to know.” The carriage was ready when he reached the Black Horse. They lost no time in their seats, | with the Penn’a Express, if it makes time.”’ | Fred Halyard, the Life Boat Boy. “They have about a half-hour the start,” cried the landlord, ‘‘And the road is a straight one. You'll have to drive like fun. Don’t kill the horse, 3 “If I do I'll buy you another,’ replied Mr. Proc- tor, taking the reins. “It’s public business, my friend.” ‘“* But you haven’t said what’s up.” ‘* Law-breaking is up,’’ returned Harry Bains. ** And time’s up.” Away they rattled, into the cross-road which tho landlord had indicated. It was a smooth, well-made country road; their horse had strength and mettle; the evening was growing cool. They drove with the speed of Jehu. “‘They won’t count on such a quick chase,”’ re- marked Mr. Proctor. ‘If they lag we will come up with them.”’ ‘*There are fresh wheel tracks,”’ cried Fred. “This road isn’t much traveled, and wagon-wheels tell their tale.’’ ‘You are right there, boy,”’ 5 ye Harry. ‘‘They can’t throw us with a wake like that left behind them. Watch that it doesn’t veer into a side road.”’ For miles and miles, as it seemed, they drove on, The sun sunk below the horizon. The long twilight slowly deepened into darkness. It would soon be impossible to trace the tracks which had so far guided them. “There is a town ahead,” exclaimed Fred. “A railroad station, too, for yonder is the smoke of a train just starting out.”’ ‘** And there is a wagon of some kind coming this bef hee ney Harry. e approaching vehicle soon drew near. It held but one person, whom a glance told them was the sandy-haired fisherman of Swamptown, “3 ay Jove, they’ve slip us!’’ exclaimed Harry. “* Hold Wp there, my friend,” cried Mr. Proctor, checking own horse, and drawing a pistol, whicb he presented at the fisherman. e latter, with a look of alarm, hastened to obey orders. ** Now let me know what you have done with your freight; and without a minute's parley.”’ “Tf you let out mebbe you'll catch ’em,”’ replied the man, with a chuckle of satisfaction. “They're off in that train for York. If an any sort of a lively critter thar you mought try.’’ ‘Anything aboard?” asked Mr. Proctor of Harry, who had jumped out, and inspected the fisherman's wagon. ENO, it’s as ef as his skull-pan,”’ rejoined a 3h with a look of disgust. “Then let the rogue go to perdition, where he be- longs,” returned Mr. Proctor. ‘‘ And hark you, m friend. You’ve got the wind of us so far; but if we don? come up with you yet there’s no virtue in steam. A chuckling laugh was the only reply of the fish- erman, who, however, was very glad to get away from his unpleasant ae Aa ‘We'll try the town,”’ Mr. Proctor briefly remark- ed. ‘The fellow may be lying. He had told the truth, as they soon discovered. Inquiry of the ticket agent proved that two sucb Sekcyoacd had bought tickets for New York, and taken e . ‘“ Any baggage?’’ asked Harry. : They eat mahele I did not see anything else.’’ ‘* What time will that train reach New York?’ ask- ed Mr. Proctor. ‘*Tt’s only an accommodation. It will not get there before eleven to-night.”’ ** And there is no express that will beat it?” ** How is an express going to get ahead of it? Two trains can’t very well pass each other on one track,”’ said the agent, laughing. “Tsu agg: that you might sport some sidings,”’ retorted Mr. Proctor, turning away. ‘“‘Anyhow there’s no express gets in ahead of them—on this line.”’ ‘*Ts there on any line?’”’ was the quick question, as Mr. Proctor turned back to the agent. The latter personage consulted a time-table. ‘‘Tf you werein Trenton now. There is a Penn- sylvania R. R. Express poe there at nine.”’ “Trenton, eh? Canit be caught?’ The question was quick and imperative. The agent again examined his time-tables. “Tt might,’ he said, dubiously. “There is a branch train leaves Bringhurst, three miles from here,in half an hour, It will connect at Trenton ’ “Three miles, eh? and half an hour to do it in? Many thanks,”’ he called back to the agent. “ Come, Fred, there’s not a minute to lose, ait for me here, Harry. We must not overload our horse.” They were off again, without delay, through the wing darkness, toward Bringhurst, Though th» orse was feeling his former journey, he easily made the distance in time for the train, And for a wonder it landed Fred in Trenton early enough to catch the nine o’clock express, There was little fear of delay when once safely aboard the lightning train. It rattled into the depot at Jersey yy on time, at a quarter to eleven. teen minutes to reach the South Jersey ferry! It needed keen work. Fred had received full in- structions from Mr. Proctor how to act, and hasten- ed as rapidly as his feet could carry him along the wharves on the Jersey City side. The clock was just pointing to eleven when he en- tered the South Jersey depot—and, prompt on time, in rolled the accommodation train. ‘*T calculate we've flung the rat this time,”’ said cer who, with a companion, passed close to where d stood with averted face. **T calculate you haven’t,”’ thought the lattcr. He was again on the track of his game, | JOO SS e€oim G (EO)