Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 36 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

‘The Boy Clown. 3 ee ‘Now swinging by his hands, thea whirl- ing over and over with amazing rapidity, then again letting go all holds, he appeared to be falling headlong to the earth, but sud- denly catching his toes upon the bar, he swung, head downward, from the giddy hight. Still the frail strand held, and darker and darker grew the brow of the assassin, Mur- ker, as, from a secluded spot, he watched ‘the performance, cursing himself that he had not cut deeper into the rope. Round after round of applause had greeted each difficult act of the daring athlete, and now he prepares for the last and most danger- ous of all. He is to drop from the upper bar upon the lower, catching as before upen his toes, but this time while being swung back and forth the full limit of the ropes. The assistant below grasps the cord that Henry has fastened to the bar and thrown | down to him, and with a strong arm he swings the trapeze back and forth, each time causing it to make a wider sweep. Calmly and with folded arms, the young actor sits upon the upper bar, waiting for the proper moment to make the dangerous leap. Not a sound is heard throughout that vast audience, as, leaning forward, they gaze with all-absorbing interest upon the scene. Suddenly, quick as a flash of light, the agile form is s¢en to dart downward, per- form an evolution in mid-air, and then the tirmly-set toes catch upon the bar and ar- rest the fearful fall. But only for an in- stant. Even asthe shout of applause is hovering upon the lips of thousands, ready for utterance, it is changed to a cry of hor-. ror that is heard and taken up by those upon the outside. A quick, sharp snap is heard, the level bar upon which the feet rest tilts upon one side, and then, as though thrown from some powerful engine, the boy ath- lete is hurled outward and downward to the earth. Screams rent the air. Women fainted. The employees and performers rushed into the ring and took the body up to carry it to the dressing-room. ‘The performance was not allowed to proceed. Henry was a favorite with all, and tears gathered in; many an eye as they grouped around that form lying so cold and still. ‘‘ Dead! dead!” wailed several of the women. But, there was one who not only said ‘‘Dead,” but added, ‘“‘ Mercilessly mur- dered!” | CHAPTER IL JESSIE, THE WANDERER. Arrer Murker had accomplished his ven- geance, he slid down from his perch and made his way as fast as he could through the streets of the village until he arrived at a lonesome and Greary part of it, where he saw a small cabin erected, and from which the smoke was seen issuing. Here he paus- _ed, undecided whether to ask for admittance or continue on until he had separated him- self many a mile from the circus; for he well knew that retribution would overtake him were he caught, as he alone would be held responsible for the breaking of the rope. ‘* Little chance of their finding me here, I reckon,’’ thought he; “they'll be off .to- night, and I can easily escape to-morrow. No one saw me do it, but there’ll be enough to suspect I had a hand in it, and suspicion is proof too often. ll try this place, at all events, and if refused shelter, I can but go elsewhere.” : Carrying his plan into execution, he gave a loud rap at the door. A girl of about fourteen years of age opened it. This girl, although dressed in the coarsest of raiment, was very lovely. Her hair, which was inky black, fell in mas- sive waves down. her neck. Murker was astonished at seeing so beautiful a being in so homely a hovel. The girl ushered Murker into the kitchen, and offered hima chair, Although it was a summer’s night, there was a fire in the lit- tle cooking-stove, and there was a pot upon it from which came a scent as though herbs were cooking. ‘The room was very poorly furnished, and the floor much worn in many places. The only occupant of this room, as the man and girl entered it, was a decrepit old woman who was spinning, and crooning some old song. As the stranger entered, the woman looked up as if wonder- ing what his errand could be at that time of night. ‘‘Grandmother is very deaf, sir, and you will either have to tell me your mes- sage or speak very loud to her,” said the girl. *‘ Jessie! what are you talking with that strange man for? What is his business?” asked the old woman. Murker told the girl he desired a place to stop during the night, and asked if he could be accommodated there. Jessie repeated this to her grandmother, and, although the old lady was at first reluctant to accede to the request, she was finally overruled in her objections by the sight of the dellar which he offered in payment. | Murker at once made himself at home, amd fell to talking with the old crone, while the girl, Jessie, busied herself about the room, singing to herself in a low tone while 80 engaged. Her voice was very sweet, and at once caught the ear of the visitor, who, from having heard so much singing in his circus life, was a more than ordinary judge of what wes good or bad For a few minutes he listened ia silence to Jessie, who was ail unconscious of his admiration, and then suddenly turning to her, he said: ‘*Come, birdie, you have a rare voice. Give me a song, and perhaps I ean find the mate of the piece 1 gave your grandame for you.” Jessie at first hung back, but presently overcoming her timidity, she sung the plain- tive ballad of ‘‘ Auld Robia Gray," with rare sweetness and good taste. At the conclusion, Murker applauded loudly, and thea, as if struck with a sudden idea, he muttered, under his breath: ‘‘ By Jove! this is a prize! .Let me but manage to get this girl in my. possession and my fortune is made. Then for a life of frolic and fun, with plenty of money in my pocket, and liquor in abundance whenever I’ve a mind to, and no questions asked. It’s worth the trial, anyhow.” As if the fates were plotting against. the innocent girl and in favor of the villain, the old hag began a series of complaints about the hard times, and the difficulty she had in feeding two mouths. ‘ And now,” she continued, ‘‘ my darter Melissy Ann’s a-comin’ to live along with me, and there’ll be three ’stead of two to look arter. And then, you see, sir, though Jessie calls me grandma, and thinks she is my gran’darter, she ain’t neither kith nor kin tome. Thirteen years ago, she was left at my dvor, and ever since I’ve had the rheumatiz she’s been rale good tome. But, I don’t see no way of keepin’ her longer 'n a week more, and then she'll have to scratch for herself.” In this manner the old crone went on grumbling, until at length Murker spoke: ‘* My good woman,” said he, ‘‘1 have a plan by which I can take her off your hands, if you will consent.” ‘‘Why, what on yearth would you be wantin’ of the gal?” cried the old hag. ‘Never you mind. She shall come te no harm. She shall dress like a lady, and be one, too;” and then, as if think- ing he had better explain, he continued: ‘‘] will have ber taught to be a great singer. Come, now, what say you? I will give you twenty bright new do lars, and take her off your hands. Shall ii bea bargain?” ‘‘Twenty dollars! That’s a heap of money, and I’d never want for snuff or ‘baccy. Twenty dollars!” And thus, despite the tears and entreaties of the helpless girl, the cruel bargain was completed. “ Will you, can you, grandmother, send me away with this man, of whom you know nothing?” she asked, with tears streaming down her face. But the sight of the clinking coim was toe much for the old woman. She clutched the money in her skinny fingers, and turned a deaf ear to the girl’s prayers. ‘‘Then hear what I have to say,” said Jessie, no longer weeping, but with her eyes flashing with anger and determination. «1 will not go with this man! 1 would far rather beg upon the highway than place myself in his power!” ‘‘ Hullo! young miss! I reckon you'll stop that nonsense when once you go with me!” exclaimed Murker, coarsely. ‘‘ Perhaps I may when I do go with you, but that time will never come,” answered the high-spirited young girl. Without paying further attention to Jes- sie, Murker turned to the old waman. “A bargain is a bargain,” he said. ‘* You've got your money, and I take my chance of getting the girl. Where are her things? I'll just fix them up in a bundle handy to carry,” “The gal’s things are in that closet. ’Tain’t much she’s got, but they’re all in thar.” 0)(0)(6) e€oilm (C cS (E(0)