Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 199 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

Featherweight, The Boy Champion of the Muskingum; On His Muscle, Wits and Honor. BY EDWARD WILLETT. CHAPTER I. LIGHT, BUT LIVELY. “Ts it raally a fact, Fred Light, that you mean to leave us?’ “You can bet your sweet life on that, Cap! I told you, afore we floated out o’ the Muskingum, that [ was goin’ to quit the flatboat business when we got to Cairo, and here we are, in sight o’ that Promised Land.” The first speaker was a tall, gaunt, big-boned and red-faced man, part owner and sole man- ager of a large flatboat, or ‘‘ broadhorn,” that was slowly floating down the placid Ohio, and gradually nearing the point where that river empties into the swift and turbid Mississippi. It was a pleasant ahd picturesque scene in the soft spring morning, as the sun was beginning to scatter the light clouds of mist that hung over the river and lent an enchantment to the leafy banks, A little way below lay the em- bryo city of Cairo, of which little could be seen save a few wharfboats and steamboats and flat- boats at the levee, and that little was half ob- scured by the light fog. ‘‘Cap” Sam Ryder stood on the level steer- ing-plank that crossed the curved roof of the broadhorn, managing the long sweep that was used as a rudder, and the side sweeps hung lazily = me water, like the wings of a swimming ird, The second speaker was a young fellow of sixteen or seventeen, to judge from his appear- ance, though he was certainly tall for his age. He was decidedly handsome, with bright blue eyes, light bair in short and crisp curls, and a face that was fullof life and energy. Ashe stood on the roof near Sam Ryder, or walked over its curved surface, gazing down the river, every movement of his supple limbs and his lithe and graceful body spoke of trained strength and abundant activity. He was plain- ly but decently dressed, having “put on his retties ” for going ashore, and was entirely un- incumbered by baggage, as he had left his work- ing-clothes as a legacy to the flatboatmen. ‘I know you said so,” said Sam Ryder; ‘ but Iwas hopin’ all along that you didn’t really mean it.” ‘‘ But [ did mean it, Cap, and there’s my skiff that | breught Te: to take me ashore, towin’ astern to prove it. Lam goin’ to strike out for myself, and make a spoon or spoil a horn.” ‘I’m keen to bet that you won’t spile a horn, Fred, The light weight champion of the Mus- matter where he goes, or what he goes at. But, I’m sorry to lose you, my lad.” ‘* And I am sorry to part from you, Cap; but I’ve got to strike out.” “Ven dot boy goes ashore,” put in a third ty, ‘‘ I goes mit him.” The third party was astolid, blue-eyed, heavy looking German, somewhat under middle age who sat on the steering-plank or “ bench,” smoking a long pipe. ‘Why, Herman, what has got into you ?” asked Sam Ryder. **Nottings—dot is, nottings vot vas new. Vhere Fred Light goes, Herman Schweitopfel goes mit him.” ‘Have you asked Fred if he will take you ashore with him?” “Of course he can go if he wants to,” an- swered Fred, ‘‘I neither coax nor hinder him,” ‘* Dot vas alles recht,” grunted Herman. In a little’ while the fog had lifted, showing the muddy bank of the Cairo levee, and the out- lines of the buildings at the top of the slope, and Fred Light passed down to the stern of the broachorn,.and entered his neat little skiff, fol- lowed by Herman Schweitopfel. ‘Gif me dose oars,” said Herman, “and sit you in dot stern.” ‘* Anythin’ to please the child,” replied Fred, and they said good-by to their friends, and Her- man cast the skiff loose. ‘*Good luck to you, Fred,” was the parting ee of wage agit ene = : “Thank you, Cap. w as good as ean make it, you bet.” Herman’s strong arms pulled the light skiff swiftly over the smooth of water, ed | clap Featherweight. and in a short time they reached the levee, landed, and dragged their skiff well ie ‘‘Vhere vas you goin’ now, Feddervate?”’ asked Herman. **T reckon I will look in on the fvlks at the hotel. Come along, Herman. The skiff is safe enough,” At the hotel the entrance of Fred Light and his big tender did not create any special sensa- tion, except as it afforded amusement to the clerk, who laughed as he pointed them out to a e friend. Fred ste ped to the counter, and eyed that ao as if he were some strange kind of caged an ; ‘‘Are there any letters here for Frederick Light, Esquire?” heasked. Suppose there are,” replied the clerk. ** What of it?” “* If there are any, I want ’em.” ‘*Are you the gentleman?’ asked the clerk, with a peculiarly impertinent erin. ‘“‘T am that very gentleman,” returned Fred, with an emphasis on the last word. ‘** Does the hotel have the honor of your cus- tom, or shall I furnish you with a room?” “Well, I a 4 take a room. Have you got a parlor on the second floor, with a bridal- chamber and a private bath?” y @s “ That’s just what I don’t want, then. Have pa got any room that you can let a feller have or two bits a day, and get his meals out?” “No, we don’t do business in that way. We have had enough of you, young chap. This is no place for loafers.” ‘* What are you doin’ here, then?” "3 ‘s moms impudent young puppy! Get out of ero!” ‘“*Get out yourself, you cross old yaller dog, . that ain’t decent enough to answer a civil ques- tion paca ‘* Here, Tom! Bounce this vagabond!” response to the clerk’s summons there came from a side room a medium-sized but muscular young man, who was evidently the porter of the hotel, and who was as evidently pleased at receiving an order to ‘ bounce” somebody. The clerk pointed at Fred Light and repeated the order to bounce him. “This is a public house,” replied Fred, ‘‘ and Ijam behavin’ as well as you are, if not a leetle better. I will go out when I want to, not ogy. and that chap can’t bounce one inch of me. The porter smiled at this reflection upon his prowess, ““Why, young feller,” said he, ‘‘I can fling you out with one hand.” **'You can’t fling me one foot,” retorted Fred, hurt.” ‘“‘and if you try it you will . “You besser vas let dot boy alone,” warned Herman, ry in? up his finger at the porter. ‘Dot vas der light vate shampion von der Mus- : _kingum wadlley.” kingum Valley ain’t a chap to be sneezed at, no “Tl champion him,” snarled the porter, as he advanced upon the youth. y sa. hr or you'll get burt,” cried Fred. “T am standin’ on my rights and I call you all to witness, gentlemen, that this is a clear case of self-defense.” The porter approached and made a grab at him, but Fred, who had placed himself in a po- sition of defense, quickly shot out his right hand and then his left with a rapid one, two, counter- ing upon each optic of his “adversary, who em his hands upon his eyes, reeled and sunk helplessly to the floor. ‘* Hi, there!” shouted the clerk. ‘‘ Call the pexkeerats and the head waiter, and every- ! erman Schweitopfel reached over the coun- ter, seized the clerk, and held him with a vise- like ; we b ie: if you makes anodder yell, I shakes you! Dot boy has got to haf fair play!” The porter rose from the floor. He had underestimated the powers of his antagonist, but still believed in his own ability to cope with him. He put himself in a boxing attitude, and again advanced upon the youth. ‘The encounter was witnessed by about two dozen men, guests of the hotel and others, and it was plain, from the interest with which they regarded Fred, that the boy would have fair play. He had no difficulty in warding off the blows of the porter, whose eyes were somewhat the worse for wear, and gradually backed away, using his hands with admirable skill, until he was near the door. Then, seeming to conclude that there had been enough play, be launched out his left arm with the swiftness of lightning, and delivered such a blow on his adyersary’s right jaw, as fairly lifted him from his feet, and landed him backward on the floor. “‘If nobody else wants to bounce me,” sug- sted Fred, ‘‘I will hunt a hotel where they ve a gentleman for clerk.” No person offered to interfere with him, and he left the hotel, followed by Herman. **] thought I knew that young chap,” declared one of the spectators, ‘‘and now I am sure of it. He is Fred Light, the best fellow of his inches I know, who has cleaned out all the light weight men along the upper Ohio. They call him Featherweight up there. He ought to be a professional.” ‘“‘He is a likely young fellow,” averred an- other. ‘‘I wish 1 knew him.” ‘“*] suppose you can easily make his acquaint- ance if you want to.” The second speaker was a well-di®ssed man, stoutly built, but not portly, with a grayish beard and a determined cast of countenance see the upper part of his face was shaded by the broad brim of his black felt hat. He hesitated a moment, and then quickly followed Fred Light and his companion out of the door. Fred had gone but a few steps from the hotel when he heard a husky cough behind him, fol- lowed by a voice that was not quite so husky. ‘* Ah, Featherweight!” He turned at the sound of the familiar name, and saw the Fae mg who has just been partly described, advancing with a smile on his face that was intended to conciliate. ‘You see that I know your title,” explained the latter. ‘‘Il have heard of you before now and am glad tosee you. I was watchin that little difficulty in the hotel, and meant to see that you had fair play.” ‘‘ Much obliged,” returned Fred; ‘‘ but Lreckon I would have pulled through.” ‘*No doubt, my young friend; nodouwbt. Al. low me to. introduce myself. My name is Cres- well, Alfred Creswell, and Iam in the cotton business at Memphis. Here is my card. AsI said before, I am glad to meet you. Do you ever take anything to drink?’ “T have kept clear of it so far, sir, and expect to keep clear of it always.” ‘‘ Quite right, my youngfriend, Glad to hear you say so. It would be better for us all if we should keep clear of it,” “My friend here, Herman Schweitopfel, doee ah drinking for this party of two,” suggested ‘‘Glad to hearit. Perhaps your friend will favor me by joining me ina social glass, and you'll have the kindness to look on.” “Dot vas alles recht,” assented Herman, and they sought the nearest saloon. hen Herman had had bis beer, and Mr. Creswell his whisky, the latter gentleman was by no means inclined to lose sight of his new friends, and he beckoned Fred Light aside, ‘“*T want to speak to you about a little matter of business,” he announced, ‘‘that may prove pleasant and profitable to you.” eh you want my friend to hear it?” asked ‘Not just now. You may tell him about it afterward, if you see proper to do so.” ‘* Very well. Don’t bother us for a little while, Herman. Now, sir, fire ahead.” CHAPTER II. ANOTHER FRAOAS. ‘“My young friend,” Mr. Creswell began, ‘I don’t know that I ever met a young fellow who struck me more favorably than you do. I like ans? looks, your ways, and your style, general- y, and would be glad to help you on in the world. I hope you have no objection to that?” **Not a bitof it! I am keen to make a strike, and I want to push ahead.” **As I told you, my young friend, I am in the cotton business at TEE and Iam a man of property and good position. I have an or- phan niece, a young lady of nineteen and up- ward, who has been under my care since she lost her parents. In fact, I have been hér guar- dian, actually, though not inlaw. She has had a good home with me, and has been treated as my own child. ‘Lately she met a young man from Missouri —I think he is a railroad engineer, or a land agent, or something of the sort—to whom she took a great fancy. He kept hanging around her, though 1 warned him off, and at last he told me that he wanted to marry her. I shut down on that pretty solid, and. he went up the river. I thought that settled the matter, but it didn't. rhe next thing I knew, the girl had run off. ‘With the young feller?’ asked Fred. ‘‘ Well, not exactly. Neither with him, nor ICO Gom G cS (ECO)