Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 187 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

eee ee ee ee ee ee ow ee = ridge, that was dotted at frequent intervals with houses. Fred gazed at them intently. “I'd wager a fortune I could pick out a half-dozen houses that would have our game among them. But it wouldn’t be square to search an honest farmer’s house for smuggled goods. Wewill have to take to the boats and measure my lines.”’ He turned and began to make his way back to the causeway. About the same time Mr. Darlington and old Tom were walking slowly down toward the beach. “S’pose ye’d find that the boy had a mint of money,’’ exclaimed the old man, ‘‘d’ye think I'd go forthat? Would it make him an ace the happier? He's got good looks and good health, and g eddi- cation, hat more does any one want?” “There are other things which people think ad- vantages.”’ “Of course they do. Don’t I know that?” ejacu- lated old Tom. ‘*There’s vantages at wine-drinkin’, and gamblin’, and sportin’. here’s chances at loafin’ and idlin’. There’s openin’s for gout and rheumatics. There’s opportunities at back-bitin’. And there’s worriments of mind enough to turna man gray afore he’s thirty—if he ain’t buried hisself afore that time. I know somethin’ ‘bout these ‘vantages of money, and I hope that Fred will al- lers keep poor, and honest, and industrious.” _**It may be that you are more than half-right,” Mr, Darlington admitted, reflectively. ‘*Tam more than three-quarters right,’’ continued the old sailor, ‘“‘Jist "bout; the heaviest weight to carry in this worldis a heavy pile of pony 6 nd it weighs down &@ man’s soul as often as it does his hands. Ishouldn’t keer to go inter the next world with the weight that money lays on some folks’ souls. I jist hope that Fred will ’scape all sich *vantages.”’ ** But it is our duty to find his parents, if possible?” ** He ain't got no parent ’cept old Tom Halyard,”’ cried the old sailor, angrily. ‘‘An’ he don’t want none, What's he goin’to keer for strangers as he never see’d nor heard of? D’ye think he’d feel for them as he does for me, that’s brung him up since he was a baby, and done for him, if I do say it, more than if he’d been my own? I knowed there weren't no clew on that garment or in the cradle, or I doubt I'd ‘a’ kept’em. I’ve got the best right to the baby that the sea brung me.”’ They walked on in silence for some minutes, the old man slowly cooling down from his excitement. ‘“*I should be sorry to interfere with your right,” Mr. Darlington at length said, ‘‘though you must not forget that the true parents of the child have their rights, also. However, so far as I cansee, there seems to be no chance of discovering them,”’ ** That’s true enough,” averred old Tom, eagerly. **T’ve tried it, long afore I see’d you. Jim Bendy, the sailor as was saved with Fred, has got the whole story laid away somewhere in his brain. But his memory is clean gone. He’s got to arn every- thing new, like a new-born baby.’ ** Has he taken to the sea again?” “No. He keeps an ale-house at Crockettstown, between here and Philadelphia. He’s l’arnt enough to measure out a glass of ale.”’ It was now the bathing hour, and the beach was at its liveliest. Hundreds were in the line of the surf, being tossed like chips on the surging waters, or buried beneath some wave of unusual hight, Suddenly there came a verre in the spirit of fun that prevailed. People looked at each other, and then out to sea, with dilated eyes. Their gaze was concentrated on one point. “* By all that’s bad, they’ve been caught in the un- dertow!” exclaimed old Tom, pointing to two figures visible beyond the line of bathers, and seemingly struggling with the overpowering waters. One of them was furtherin than the other, and was swimming manfully. The other was floating cee ae outward. “ He’s all right,”’ cried old Tom, indignantly. *‘ He ean swim like a fish. But he's leavin’ the y to take care of herself. And she'll be down under the waters afore two minutes, if she ain't saved.”’ The struggling figure at this moment lifted above the waves, with her face turned shoreward. **Merciful heavens! it cannot be Rose?” cried Mr. Darlington, in a voice fullof agony, and staggering backward as if he had received a heavy blow, His cry was echoed by a voice behind him, and an agile figure darted like A ag down the beach. “Keep up, Mr. Dar n,”’ cried old Tom. “There goes my Fred. e’ll bring her ashore if there’s a ghost of a show.” It wasindeed Fred Halyard, who had just return- ed from the marsh, Ina moment he had plunged through the surf, and was battling with the waves. All eyes rly followed him as he swam gallantly outward, He was rapidly approaching the strug- gling girl, calling to her cheeringly. Buta groan arose from all observers as a wave dashed over her, and she sunk out of sight. Fred was not ten feet away. One strong stroke more, and he too disappears beneath the waters. The moment of terrible suspense was succeeded by agladshout. The swimmer had risen again to the a bearing with him the girlish form of the bather. Fortunately for Fred she did not struggle. Ar- ran her with in he came. farinward. Catchin he let his feet fall. tance of the bottom. ed forward into shallow water. The companion of the rescued lady had just reached the shore, © stood shame-faced under the svorniul loons that were cast upon him, his light freight in his arms é was within easy touching dis- LC LALLA LLL A A i te etl tt her hands oa his shoulders he | swam Inward, with an easy but strong stroke. In, | And now a breaker aided dashing him | In a minutemore he had ° | ee ee ee ——— the young gentleman with whom Fred had met her that morning, But a shout of glad congratulation greeted the gallant lad as he placedthe rescued girl within the arms of her father, who clasped her to his heart with yearning joy. ‘She is safe and well,’’ Fred quietly remarked to the excited group around them. ‘ But she had best be taken in from the beach. Here comes the bath- ers. We shall soon be smothered in a flight of water- soaked locusts.” Rose turned, with a wan smile on her face, and held out her hand. ** Thank you,’’ was all she could say. “There, there! not another word,’’ murmured Fred, clasping the diminutive hand in an earnest pressure. ‘You'd best both get away from here,” advised old Tom. ‘* Here comes the locusts, and they'll eat the lad alive if they can’t get at the lady.” They took his advice, and there was a hasty re- treat from the coming throng of bathers. Rose’s dejected cavalier had already disappeared. CHAPTER VI. WHAT CAME OF A HOP, ‘THERE was a sound of revelry by night,” if we may quote the words of the poet, in relation to the md taking place at the Mansion House, the fashion- able hotel at Beach City. The music throbbed and vibrated until it seemed asif the air was instinct with sweet sounds. It float- ed out through the streets and over the sands, where the breakers thundered like a perpetual anvil chorus, under the softer tones which mingled so delicately with their monotonous roar. And half the city had pebures there, to throng the broad hall of the hotel, or seek the cool night air on its wide, inviting porches, or wander through the grounds at a distance that softened the mellow beat of the waltz tune into dreamy sweetness. Young men and maidens, full of the love-inspiring charm of melody, roamed through the shadowy s0nt, side by side, or hand in hand, their hearts stinct with the throbbing tune, to which their voices softened in unison. And old trade-hardened merchants, to whom “ per- centage ’’ was the one magic word, felt somethin break up within them, as if the wintry ice o their natures was yielding to the warm sun of the spring-tide; and knew not that it was the music that involuntarily brought them back to the far-off days of their oR eg Within the -room the scene was brilliant in the extreme. There the gloom and the subdued melody that ruled without, were exchanged for a brilliant flood of gaslight, that filled every nook of the. im- mense room with gleaming luster; while the instru- ments rung out with much of the magic of that ‘marvelous violin, which has made whole villages in- voluntarily dance, from the toddling child to the trembling grandfather. Much of the same effect seemed produced here, the floor being thronged with active waltzers, wind- ing rough a maze of bewildering intricacy, the play of rich colors, and the incessant flash of jewels, giving to the scene a most enchanting effect. It was, indeed, hard to resist the charm of that festive music and gay dancing throng. Rose Dar- lington, who had come down to the ball-room, sim- ply to show that she was none the worse for her morning’s adventure, was drawn irresistibly into the tide. It was partly, however, to please her father, who wished to be assured that she had fully recovered her strength and spirits, and who fancied that his Rose was only made for music, laughter, and Randing. : As yet, she was, to him, a mere gir], and he failed to recognize that she was developing into an earnest and true-hearted woman. “A waltz with me, now, Rose,’ whispered the young gentleman who had beep her escort that mo g. ‘* You know you have promised me.” ‘*‘Notnow. You will excuse me. Iam not fit to dance to-night.” ‘* But, you have just been ry ** Yes, to proses papa. But I find that I have not the strength for it—and hardly the heart for it, either. You will have to wait for a more fitting op- portunity.”’ “You are angry with me, Rose. You will not dance beeause— ‘** Because you deserted me in a time of danger, Mr. Howard? Is that what pon would say? You are mistaken. I expected nothing more from yow.’ His tone had displayed anger, and she answered him with in ation. ave saved you, Rose, if I had been able. I could barely save myself, I have not the skill of that water-dog, who—”’ ‘*No more,” demurred Rose, quietly. be observed. What has been done by deeds cannot be undone by words.”’ She walked away as she spoke, and rejoined her father, who stood at the end of the room, observing the dancers. Mr, Howard's face was deeply flushed as he left the ball-room. Rose’s quiet tones had stung him more deeply than if they had been barbed lances, He sought the bar-room of the hotel, where a group of young men of his acquaintance stood con- versing. “Boma, boys,” he cried, with enforced hilarity. “You are wasting time here. What will you drink?” The Pher men, nothing loth, responded readily to this invitation. “Bey, Will!” exclaimed one of them. ‘“ Don’t It was youexpect to break your fast again to-night, that | NSS “We will Fred Halyard, the Life Boat Boy. 5 you are pouring out brandy with such a strong hang as that?’ ‘I’m tired, George,’’ was the reply; ‘‘ I want some thing to tone me up. What say you to a stroll out in the air?”’ ‘*l am agreeable,’’ was the reply, and the two friends walked away, leaving the others to resume their conversation. We must precede them to a point where other friends of ours were gathered. is consisted of a group of four yognees Sou pasee of Mr. Proctor, the custom-house officer; Harry Bains, the man who hac pulled the stroke-oar in the chase of the smugglers: old Tom Halyard and his son Fred, who had so dis- | tinguished self that day. e latter appeared to be the principal spokes- man of the group, the others listening intently to his observations. . **l expected that we'd put it through, and maybe grab them this afternoon,’ remarked Fred. ** But it isn’t so comfortable to be abroad when everybody wants to make a lion of a fellow. Some may like that sort of thing, but I ain’t the one.”’ “You acted e a man, Fred,’ declared Harry Bains. ‘*Andif that’s lionizing you, you’ve got to ut itin your pipe and smokeit. But these butter ies will soon have some other plaything, 80 we can safely go ahead to-morrow.” ‘** That is, if Fred’s plan is not a will-o’-the-wisp,’’ remarked Mr. Proctor. ‘‘l never have much confi- dence in mysteries.” ‘** Boys ginerally do make mountains out of mole: hills,” returned old Tom. *‘* But I don’t think Fred's one of that kind.’’ “Guess not,’’ Fred quietly replied. ‘‘I was out this morning, Mr. Proctor, and got my points all laid. So [don’t calculate to make it a mystery any longer. Not from you, that is.” **'That’s the chap to reef a top- t saill” cried old Tom, exultingly. ‘‘ Heave ahead, lad!” ‘My story is not a very long one,” Fred modestly responded. ‘‘I’ve worked a triangulation on them, that’s all. I laid out my base line to-day. I’ve got the —— of the two other lines. We've only got to bring these lines together to a point, and we've nail: ed the smugglers.”’ - a don’t quite understand you,” said Mr. Proctor. u eo “Think you can find the spot, Harry Bains, where they took me prisoner?” ‘*Kasy enough. Your signal reeds must be stil where you left them.”’ ‘** And I’ve got the spot nailed where they left me. These are our two starting points. Now if we know the distance from these two points to their hiding- er , we’ve only got to b the two lines to ge enr-"" “That’s all mighty well!” interrupted old Tom. ** But how is a chap tied hand and foot, and gagged and blinded to boot, going to know enn ‘boul distance? You wasn’tin no trim to throw the log. And you couldn’t swear if you were an hour or ten minutes on the inlets.” “If I can’t measure it within twenty feet I'll seli out,’’ Fred confidently decided. ‘*‘But how?” asked Mr, Proctor, curiously. ‘| don’t see your process.” “ Pape my ears,” explained Fred. “They didn’t gag them.’ | ‘eBut who ever measured with their ears?’ ex- claimed bis father, with a show of indignation. ‘“*I did!” returned Fred, ‘““Come, come boy! You are making a confound. edly long story of this,” interposed Harry Bains. ‘That's because you talk asif you didn’t half be lieve me,”’ retorted “If you saw a car 0 on the beach there, and wanted to gauge its tance, how would you go about it?” ‘**Hang me if I know!” admitted old Tom. “*We might count how often the wheels turned round,”’ suggested Mr. Proctor. ‘You have it there,’’ cried Fred. “That is my rowled the old whole secret.” ‘*What thunderin’ nonsense!” Sailor. ‘‘The boat didn’t run on wheels. And you weren't in shape to see them, if it did.” “It went with oars then, and I was in shape to hear them. The factis, 1 counted how many oar strokes it took on each course. It took just 165/ — to reach the hiding-place, and 1240 on our re urn trip, and anybody th a pair of oars can mea- sure that over again.’ They stood for a moment in silent surprise at this simple explanation of Fred’s mystery. Then old Tom grasped his hand with a clutch that wasenough to break its bones. “You ought to be look-out on a three-decker, d; hang me if you oughtn’t!” he ejaculated, “I. allers said that brains was better than eyes; and I’) stick to it while there’s a reef-rope holds in this old rcass. ca **How did they pull, Fred? with a long or short’ LSProabor 4 stroke?” asked ‘A long, stretching reach,” answered Fred. ‘“You’re a jewel, Fred. We will measure your lines with our oars to-morrow morning. Think you would know the place if you got in it? “Sure of that,’’ confidently. **I’ve got two ad marks to tell it by.” . i “It will be worth your while, boy, if we can lay hands on this cargo. These customers don’t deal in cheap goods.” After afew minutes more thus occupied in con: versation they separated, Fred strolling toward the Mansion House, drawn thither by the double attrac: tion of music and the gleaming light. ~ He stood awhile on a corner of the porch, at some distance from the crowd, liste to the enlivening strains of the brilliant dance mu He was so wrapped up in enjoyment that he failed. | OO) Comic ‘Ss a