Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 36 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

-The Boy Clown. ef ee ooOoeoeqnqewenwennweoeaeoea»a«s»=$ $ ~=Seee SS). .N’™|\—wmmm> For. several minutes.the Trish lad fumbled in his various pockets and rents in his gar- ments, and then suddenly bethinking him- self of his hat he snatched it off, and, from the lining thereof, produced a letter. ‘There, ye divil! _ I’ve found ye at last!” he exclaimed, holding the missive toward the old crone, who, seemingly not under- standing it was for her, made no motion to take it. ‘‘ Here’s a letther for ye, ould woman, and maybe there’s a fortin’ inside iv it for yees. Hould on, ye spalpeen!” he con- tinued, turning fiercely upon Murker, who had reached out his hand to take the packet. ‘The letther’s for the ould woman, an’ not for the like iv ye.” With trembling, palsied hands the old dame opened the letter, and then letting it fall upon her lap, gazed helplessly upon it, as though waiting for it to speak. ‘‘ And ye can’t rade, is that it? No more can J, bad luck to the schoolin’ I niver got. Oh, murther! but it’s beautiful to be able to rade writin’ whiniver ye loiks, and the man tould me that the ould dame must have the letther right away. Maybe it’s yerself that can rade, ye blackguard?”’ he said, turning abruptly to Murker. The latter declared that he could, and the letter was handed to him, At first the man read carelessly, evident- ly wishing to get through with the task as soon as possible; but presently he began to manifest more interest, and before the con- clusion his whole manner became excited, his dull eyes kindled; astonishment, in- credulity and triumph, each in turn, dwelt upon his countenance. By a strong effort, however, he managed to suppress his feel- ings, but not, however, sufficiently soon to escape the keen eye of the Irish lad, who exclaimed: ‘‘ Be the sowl iv me grandmother! but yees looks as if the letther was for yerself, and not the ould woman!” With a hand trembling under the strange excitement caused by the letter, Murker handed the missive back to the crone. ‘‘ A lucky blow that will prove to me if I can only carry the plan out,” he muttered to himself. ‘‘ Strange chance, and to think that it should turn up here after all these years. Now, then, my fine fledgeling, it will go hard but I cage you, and once caught, then to strike for the greater prize. But I must get that letter; it may be needed.” A few minutes later the Irish lad depart- ed, leaving Murker at the cabin. With him out of the way it was an easy matter to purloin the letter, and this being done, he, likewise, left to immediately com- mence his search for Jessie, whom it was now all important he should possess, as on that possession depended the success of his newly-laid scheme. The young girl in her flight had left no trace behind by which he might obtain a clew to her whereabouts. It never once occurred to him to look amid the followers of a traveling circus for the girl he sought. He knew her to be totally without friends, never once admitting the possibility of an overruling Providence raising them up for her in the hour of need; and so, trusting to a first impulse, he sought out the large cities, and there began the search in earnest. | | There must have been some very power- ful reason actuating the man to such un- usual labor and expense. It was morally impossible that Murker had_.fallen in love with the mere child, and it was not at all likely that any feeling of revenge for what she had subjected him to, would furnish cause sufficient to impel this persistent pursuit. For months Murker persevered in the seemingly hopeless task, never flagging or growing despondent, but always energetical, hopeful, as though he felt sure of ultimate success, On several occasions he fancied the right clew had at last been found, and each time he scarcely slept or eat until he had ex- hausted the thread that he had been follow- ing only to find that it had Jed him wrong. The man’s tenacity of purpose was truly wonderful, and clearly showed how deeply important he considered the discovery of the young girl. At last he chanced to stumble, by the merest accident, upon the right trail, and, like a well-trained hound, he took the scent and was off for the far-away place where she was said to have been seen. One night, while sitting in a low groggery in one of the great eastern cities, a rough- looking man came in, and all other tables being occupied by parties engaged in drink- ing or card playing, he took a chair on the opposite side of the one at which Murker was seated, and called loudly for his drink. For some time the man drank silently, but Murker observed that every time he raised his glass to his lips he would glance furtively at him over the edge. So often did this occur that Murker, who was irritable and cross, finally said, snap- pishly: ‘‘T hope you'll know me the next time you see me. You ought, anyway.” ‘‘Beg yer parding, comrade!” said the man, good-naturedly, ‘‘ but, yer see, as how I knows that mug o’ yourn, though, cuss it all, I can’t place yer.” “ Well, sir, if you do know me, which I doubt, that is no reason you should stare a man out of countenance!” exclaimed Mur- ker, while a dark scowl settled upon his face. “Thar! I know yer now by that grum- my look onto yer han’some phizahogomy. Yer Murker,” said the man, in high glee. ‘Well, andif Iam, what then?” inquired Murker, uneasily. ‘‘ Nothin’ pertickeler, only it was funny that I should come ag’in’ you here, Don’t reckoleck me, eh? Well, I knows you. Mebby yer don’t mind the night as little Henry was hurted by that rope a-dreakin’ on the trapeze.” ‘What have I to do with that?” said Murker, gloomily. ‘‘ Who are you?” ‘ Dillson, canvas-man with the Copen- hagen Circus. I left it way down South.” At first, Murker was reserved, not feeling sure of the man Dillson’s true sentiments toward him; but, as glass after glass of li- quor was drank they grew more and more intimate. Dillson had been telling him of events that had transpired since he (Murker) left the company. ‘*' We had rare good luck one night, by George! It was the werry night as you— as the boy hurt hisself. We was travelin’ to next station, and a awful storm a-blowin’, when, all at onc’t, old Jake’s leaders shicd at somethin’ on the roadside, which some- thin’ turned out to be as han’some a young galas ever yer seen. Well, the manager jess took a likin’ to her from the start, and *twan’t long before she was the favorite of everybody in the troupe. I never see a gal Yarn to ride like that ’un! She seemed like as if it wag nateral for her to be a-settin’ or standin’ on the pad; and though she ain’t been in the company quite a year yet, she can jump a banner, bu’st a balloon, or take the big hurdles ‘long with the best of ’em.” At the first mention of the girl, Murker was wide awake, and full of eager curiosity to learn more. ‘‘What is her name?” he asked, almost breathlessly, “Why, man, what’s the matter? Nothin’, eh? Well, yer look like a good deal was the matter. What do yer want to know the gal’s name for?” and the man looked keen-; ly at his companion. ; ‘“ Pshaw! Hang it, there’s nothin’ in it! Ain’t it natural that an old member of the company should want to know all about what’s going on, and who does it?” “The gal’s name is Jessie,” growled the canvas-man, ‘*She’s a sweet critter, and the vilJ’in as would do her hurt had better keep clear of the company, that’s all.” But Murker had heard all he wanted, and scarcely waiting to settle his score at the bar, he was away. That night, he boarded a Southern-bound train, and in five days stood in the town where the circus had performed some weeks before. Here he satisfied himself of the correct- ness of his surmises by obtaining a minute description of Jessie, and then pushing for- ward in the track of the caravan, he finally overtook it at the town where we left him, in the dressing-room of the circus, con- fronted by the youth he had so injured, and whom he was preparing to deal a yet more deadly blow. CHAPTER VI. PLANNING AN ESCAPE. “Wein, Murker,” exclaimed Henry, ‘‘ what do you want here? Would you like to make another attempt on my life?” ‘« T don’t know what you mean,” answered Murker; ‘‘ I have come to claim my daugh- ter.” ‘‘ Your daughter? Where is she, I would like to know?” “ Would you, indeed? Then your high- ness shall be gratified, She stands beside you.” ‘* What! Jessie?” ‘* Yes, Jessie.” ‘‘T can not believe him, Henry,” spoke GOMIGEROOKS- CO