Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 262 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

k —— — _ -—— oa = a a oe ee. pride. ‘‘When you's seen as much of the world as I have, you’)! know a thing or two yourself. Come, let’s git.” CHAPTER III. GOOD CARDS BUT BAD PLAY. Ir was past two o’clock, and the mansion of John Barton lay four or five miles away from where the boys now were. In pursuance of Mickey’s plan Joe prepared to set out for the half rural-district in which was situated the amadnsion in question. ‘‘ And jist keep yer wits about ye,” the elder boy cautioned. ‘ Don’t sell the trick to nobody ‘cept Mr. Barton hisself. ‘Cause why, he mought want to keep it mum, and not let it git léose in the kitchen. If they says as how he can’t be seen, jist you say that you want ter see him on wery pertik’ler bizness. That allers fetches ’em.” ‘* But suppose it don’t?” suggested Joe. ‘“Ther’s no s’posing about it. You’s got to stand straight up, and cock me hat a little o’ one side—this way,” and Mickey illustrated by giving his bat a ferocious tilt. ‘‘ And be sure you speak kinder solemn like. ‘On w per- tikler bigness.’ Kin ye do that?’ Mickey’s voice seemed drawn from his boots. ‘*On very particular business,” repeated Joe, with a slight quaver, as if the big words fright- ened him. ‘“‘Oh lawsee, no! Ye don’t git down half deep enough. Better practice it goin’ out there, til] ye git it solemn like.” ‘‘And what am I to say to Mr. Barton?’ asked Joe. ‘* Tell’ bim to keep his eye skinned for burglars. They’re arter a box of diamonds, or some sich lunder. They’re goin’ to p’izen the dog, and u’st in, while the fandango’s goin’ on front. And eleven o’clock sharp, P. M., is the hour. Don’t ye forgit that.” ‘*T won’t,” Joa earnestly answered. “You kin tell him, likewise, not to trouble hisself "bout the perlice. Your bizness pard, Mickey Malone, Esq., is a-goin’ to interview them coves, and put ’em on the track.” “* Ain’t you afeard, Mickey?’ asked Joe, ina doubtful tone. **Me afeard? What of?’ ** Of the police.” Mickey laughed contemptuously. “Ever heered -tell of a scarecrow, Joe?’ he asked. ‘‘ That’s a bunch of old clothes, planted on a stick, to skeer the crows out of a corn- field. But sometimes ther’ comes along an old coon of a crow, that’s got his wisdom teeth cut. What d’ye s’pose he does? He jist gives a comical wink at the scarecrow, and dives in for corn. That’s how it is. Them boys as is afeared of the perlice fs like them young crows that’s afeared of a pile of old rags on a stick.— Now you git, Joe. And mind yer eye, cause it ain’t no baby work.” Joe set out at this intimation, though he could not help looking back with admiring eyes at his companion. ickey had just given his dilapidated hat a tilt to the other side, hitched up bis loose clothes, and started away whistling as if there was not a care left in the world. Little he cared for the police. We must follow the youthful member of the firm of Malone and Joram, on the important mission with which he had been intrusted. There is no doubt but that Mickey will take care of himself, but his partner needs looking ter. Joe's first impulse was to make his way home. He did not like to undertake such an enter- rise without informing and consulting with is mother. But the humble domicile of the Jorams lay a considerable distance down-town and with the journey before bim it was no quite agreeable to go several mikes out of his w ay. “I'll be home in time for eupper, anyhow,” he thought, ‘‘so it don’t matter. It did matter though, Pye cone A as he was destined to discover. If he had followed his first impulse, and consulted his mother, he might have saved himself a host of troubles, into which he was now plunging headlong. But it is bard to go against the fates. The walked cheerily over the Chestnut street bridge, and out into the district of West Philadelphia, feeling deeply the importance of his mission. He looked at the people whom he met on the way, and wondered if any of them dreamed of the errand on whic he was going. re did not seem to be awaro of bis existence, yet ne on Nena there must be some signs of his ae in his face. Now and then a recollection of Mickey's ad- The Young Sleuths ee eee ee ee - me a ee a ee ee monition came to him, and he repeated in sepulchral tones the important words he was to use, trying to catch the deep roll with which his tutor had brought out the phrase, ‘‘werry pertiklar bizness.” But Joe’s treble tones made sad work of it, and he despaired of attainmg the proper depth of solemnity. He would have been wiser to take a strect car for his long journey, but six cents fare was as big as the full moon in the Jad’s eyes, and even the thought of such extravagance never came to him. An oysterdinner had been sufficient outlay of profits for one day. It was nearly half-past four o’clock when he reached the vicinity of Mr. Barton’s house, It stood alone in the midst of a grass-grown level, though there wero built up streets not far dis- tant. The house was a large stone mansion with wings and outhouses, so that it covered considerable space. Connected with it was quite a large lawn and garden plot, around which extended a brick wall, of some seven or eight feet in hight. It looked like the home of wealth, while the abundant growth of vines and flowers in the garden spoke of refinement as well as wealth. Joe made bis way very timidly to the front door of the mansion. ough well aware of the locality of the house he had never been there before, since he was a mere infant. His father had been gardener for Mr. Barton, but had died while he was quite young, and since then his mother had lived in the city. He had often seen Mr. Barton himself, but was quite unknown to the servants of the household, and his extravagant sense of the im- portance of his mission made bim. tremble with Me a i as he timidly pulled the bell. he first peal was answered by a tall, im- ortant-looking footman, who leoke:l down on he boy with the superciliovs surprise that the aces giant might display toward Tom bum Joe felt his courage oozing out of his finger: ends, as this strait-laced individual glared stonily down upon him. ‘Well, hop-o’-my-thumb, what are you haf- ter?” was the aristocratic query. } “Ts Mr. Barton in?’ faltered the boy. ‘*Mr. Barton hain’t in, and won’t be ’ome till height o’clock this hevening.’’ The words came out as if ground out from a talking machine.” ** But 1 must see him,” persi Joe. ‘I’ve ot to see him on—on very particular business.” e important phrase was ng but Mickey would have been disgusted with his pupil if he had heard him. ‘* Height o’clock this hevening,” repeated the automaton. ‘“ Tell hit to me,. little chap, and hi’ll tell hit to Mr. Barton when’e comes ’ome.” Joe grew still more overawed by the impor- tance of this great dignitary. But he did not forget Mickey’s positive instructions, and an- swered: ‘“‘Tam to tell it to nobody but Mr. Barton. It is very important, and the servants mustn’t know it,” This was spoken in sublime unconsciousness of the possibility that this aristocratic dignitary might bea servant. It was answered with a sniff of contemptuous anger. ‘*Come back when ’e’s ’ome then, And don’t you be’anging haround ’ere, or hi’ll ’ave you ducked in the ’orse-pond. Haway with you now, little himperdence.” The door was angrily slammed in Joe’s face, and he left alone and baffled on the outside. The boy could not belp a sensation of anger at the way he had been treated. Timid as he was, and awed as he had been by the impor- tance of the dignified footman, he could not but feel that he had been served shabbily. But there was no redress. There stood the closed door, and there the bell pull, which he dared not touch again. There was but one satisfac- tion left for him. This was to put his fingers disdainfully to his nose and to call out in a ve low tone, for fear he might be overbeard, ‘* You’re a Henglish hog, that’s what you are!” Eight o’clock? Away vanished the vision of supper, and there came in its place a fear of the fright of his mother when he failed to come home at the usual hour. But it would never do to return to the city until he had seen Mr. Bar- ton. There were nearly four hours to kill, and Joe wandered off into the seve pire fields. It was not often that he got a chance for a stroll in the country, and the trees, the greer 8S, even the rank weeds, were beautifai to his un- accustomed eyes. On and on he walked, fol- lowing the course of a pratthing stream that seemed to coax him onward with its song. There were birds here, too, birds with a strain * ~ eee ew ee oe ee a ee + oe 0 ee ee - _— - +e - a TT SS .——— -_— — ----— —- —_ _—_ —__ very different from the twitter of the city spax- rows. And yonder was a clump of woodland, with rustling dry leaves under foot and waving green leaves overhead. Joe grew rather glad than otherwise that M1 Barton had not been home. He could see hin. after eight o’clock, and meanwhile there was all this toenjoy. The boy had a tinge of poetry in his soul, and there was poetry in all around bim. even in the tall plant with urple flowers, whic}. he would have been veary loth to call a weed. And then there was the sunset. It was no much ofasunset, tobesure. It had been cloud all day, and the clouds were gathering more thickly now. Only a narrow rift, tinged with red and yellow, told + Secor the sun had gone down. But it was so pleasant to watch it in the summer air, lying on the soft grass of a sloping hillside. Nature, indeed, threw such a charm over th: boy’s senses that a soothing sensation gradual] crept over him. Dim shadows covered the lan scape and closed in bis vision. Ere he knew what it meant he found himself asleep and dreaming. What dreams Joe bad on that grassy hillsid we shall not attempt to tell. No doubt th solemn croak of the frogs in a neighboring pon had something to do with them. At len atriarchal frog, with a wonderful base voice Joined in the chorus so vigorously that Jo awoke with a start. It was some minutes ere he could make out where he was. Thick dark- ness enveloped him—a darkness such as he ha never experienced in the city. And as he la‘ some cold drops pattered into his face. It wa’ raining. He sprung quickly up and looked around him To his left all was darkness. Off to his right th sky had a red glare—the reflection of the light’ of the mee early in front, at some distanc a vivid gleam of light met his eyes. It looke’ like an illuminated house. Toward these lights the boy walked. The thought came to him that it might be Mr. Bar- ton’s mansion, as a party was to be given there. He had but a vague idea of what a party was but he associated it with lights and music. Joe stumbled on through the darkness, won’ dering to himself how long he had slept, anc half-afraid that it might be too late to warn Mr. Barton of the projected burglary. He was not long in reaching the vicinity o the house, and gaining a point where the gleam of the gas lights made its progress more easy. It was Mr. Barton’s house, that was evident now; and he was pushing forward with more confidence, when a hand fell on his shoulder, and an angry voice cried in his ear: **l’ve a notion to shake ye right out of yer boots; hang me if I ain’t, Joe Joram. Where's you been, anyhow?” ‘‘ Mickey?” exclaimed Joe, with an odd mix- ture of dread and hope, **'Where’s you been, I say? I’s been huntin’ you for three good hours. I s’pose though, you’s got Mr. Barton posted.” ‘* No,” answered Joe, with a sinking heart. ‘* No?—And it’s balf-past ten, if it’s a minitt And ther’s a high old shindig goin’ on inside. And it’s goin’ to rain like blazes. And—what do you mean anyhow?” e grabbed Joe, and violently shook him in his excitement. ‘‘He wasn’t home,” stammered Joe. ‘He was going to be oub till eight o’clock, So’ went out in the flelds to wait. And—I guess must have got asleep.” ‘*T guess you must!” growled Mickey. “ But isn’t it all right? You was pe bet to ir terview the police, you know.” Mickey, in his turn, grew somewhat con- fused. ‘*T weren’t nobby enough, Joe,” he admitted. ‘*T didn’t have no watch-chaiaos, nor diamond ring. And my rig weren’t the last Paris cut. Hang if they didn’t git on ther ears, and wouldn’t listen to me no more nor if it was a fly buzzin’ tothem. Guess maybe they thought it was a newsboy’s sell.” ‘That’s about the way I got served, too,” said Joe, and proceeded to recite his experience with the foetman. The rain, which had been slowly descending during this conversation, now freshened. The two boys made their way toward the house, but there came a sudden fierce down-pour which made them run hastily to the shade of a neigh- boring tree for shelter. This tree stood near a corner of the wall, in a situation that was quite dark. The boys contiuned to talk, as they crouched against the trunk for shelter. “Tl settle for the Englisher,” remarkec Mickey aliantly. ‘‘I bet you high [ll take Gloag o ee as - Oop ebooks-ecom