Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 397 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

oR ee OS eee eee ae é. =—_— — ~~ _ was about tocharge on him. The boy reached the sidewalk and then paused in irresolution. ‘* Wot fer'a racket is this? Who the blazes hez ole Adam gone off with, J’d like ter know. Friends? Go ‘way! He ain’t got no friends hyar. He don’t know nobody ’cept Bertrand, ther dude, an’ he wouldn’t go with him ter so much ez a dog-fight. Detectives? Not any, fer Joseph. He said as he hadn’t told no detectives *bout his scrape, an’ ’tain’t likely they’d come in this-a-way onasked. Ther idee is circumnavi- atin’ my brain-market that ole Adam has got ggeredag’in. He takes ter trouble like a China- man ter shirts, an’ it wouldn’ts’prise me ef he was obbled by bunco-steerers. Or mebbe Dude rtrand tooken him in outer ther wet. ‘Ther old chap has hard lines, anyhow.” Bob remained for some time in deep thought, but every minute added to his belief that W ood- man fallen into evil hands. He discarded the idea that the unknown men were merely city sharpers; they would hardly seek a victim as Adam had been sought; and the idea that the old man’s previous enemies had again struck at him seemed to Bob the most likely of all. He was given to bold moves, and he went at once toa Directory and looked for the name, Oscar Bertrand. He found it, with the residence, which was above Madison square, and then he went down into his pocket, fished up a nickel and boarded a Fourth avenue car. ** Pm goin’ ter wisit ther dude an’ see w’at he’s made on. Ef he’s ther same bloke that tried ter it me pulled in on Fourteenth street, ther jury find ilty ’thout trial. [ll inwestigate an’ ef I find he’s been kidnappin’ Adam, I shall feel it my juty ter notify ther coppers an’ make acyclone warp Oscar’s classic form outo’ plumb.” he car was proceeding up the Bowery when a temporary blockade was caused by the fall of a car-horse on the track. : Bob ste off, and, by so doing, noticed a pair of so-called musicians by the curb. : One was a gray-haired old man, who was plainly an Italian, and who was grinding a wheezy organ. The other was a tambourine- girl. She seemed to be about thirteen years old, and, despite her humble clothing, was very pretty, with a plump, fine face and the dark eyes 9) Bob Non at once impressed. He remembered Woodman’s missing granddaughter. From the first it had been the boy’s theory that Paolo Don- ati, being an Italian, would naturally put his rp pwd among his own kindred. Possibly this tambourine-girl was the missing heiress. He heard the old man call her ‘*‘ Bianca,” and was about to approach and address them when the car . He sprung aboard, and the musicians were soon left behind. ‘*Bianca! That’s a purty good sort o’ a name, an’ she’s a right good looker. Now, I don’t s’pose she’s Adam’s granddaughter, but it might be so. Reckon Ill hev ter waltz over ter Mul- berry street an’ sorter look up the rag-pickin’ element. Thar ain’t no knowin’ how many heir- esses is herdin’ in that air classic precept.’ The car rolled on and, in due time, Bob was left near the palatial residence of Oscar Bertrand. He made his way at onze to the house, looked critically at the brown-stone front and then rung the bell. A smart colored man sprung into sight almost as suddenly as a jumping-jack, and the door was opened, but the colored gentleman looked dis- when he saw the boy. “Is Oscar inter ther house?’ Bob coolly asked. **'W"ot, sah?” a put ther interrogatory. Is Oscar inter ther house **Reckon he am. What ob it?” ‘What ob it? Wal, I ain’t talkin’ about no orbit. Do ye see anything in my ’pearance ter remind ye o’a’stronomer? D’ye see a telescope ‘tached ter my cartridge-belt? Observe any dockyments "bout Mars, Wenus or Plato in my hip-pocket? I reckon you don’t, but w’ot has that got ter do with baked peanuts? Nothin’, fer Joseph. W’ot I want ter be infermationed is, is Oscar inter here?” ‘Not ter sech achap as you-un,” said the colored gentleman, loftily, and he would have closed the door had not Bob’s foot got in the way. O Now, you see yer, Sambo, I ain’t takin’ no guff from anybody ter-day. I'ma radical, I be, an’ when I set out ter hoe ’taters I kiver up all the weeds. You jest mind that, my rooral clam- digger, an’ tend ter business. I’ve got the most important biz with Oscar, an’ I’m goin’ inter here ter interview him. Say that I’m secretary o’ the Boord o’ Health, come ter insult him "bout ther cholera episode in Paris.” Before more could be said a young lady em- Bob o’ the Bowery. erged from the parlor, and Bob’s face bright- | ened. It was Miss Abbott, who had figured in the Fourteenth street case. ‘*T thought I recognized your voice,” she said, looking brightly at the boy. ‘‘ Did you want to see Mr. Bertrand?” **Sech was ther drift o’ my remarks ter this black-walnut statoo o’ ther Goddess o’ Liberty but he couldn’t grasp an idee ef Bedloe’s Islanc was ter rise up an’ wipe him one onter ther ear.” ‘** Dear me! what a funny idea,” said the young lady, rit ‘*But come into the parlor. You shall be under my charge nntil Mr. Ber- trand is at liberty.” ‘** Ef I don’t never git inter any wuss comp’ny, I allow I sha’n’t be expelled from ther Board o Trade,” ory | replied Bob o’ the Bowery. He followed Helena into the gorgeously-fur- nished parlor, where sat a severe, sharp-faced elderly woman whom he correctly judged was Oscar’s mother. She raised her hands in horror as she saw the boy and his rags. ‘*Helena, my dear child! why have you brought this pe here?” she cried, in a thin, petulant voice. ‘This ‘object’. came on a_ hoss-car, an’ *twa’n’t none o’ ther one-hoss bob-tails neither,” the boy explained. ‘‘ Sorry I hev made so up- hill an impression, but I ain’t a sheriff nur a alderman. Don’t be afeerd.” ‘‘How dare you speak so disrespectfully to ~~ mother?” t was a new and angry voice, and as Bob turned he saw Oscar Bertrand in all the glory of a regular dude suit. ‘*Oh! it’s you, is it?” he added, in amazement. ‘* Why in the world are you here?” ‘Tm here ’cause I ain’t nowhar else. Did ye s’pose I was settin’ on ther tower o’ Brooklyn Bridge? No, I’m hyar, an’ I’ve come fer ter see yer grand-dad, ole Adam Woodman,” Bob an- swered, his coolness not in the least disturbed. Oscar and his mother exchanged glances. Was it Bob’s fancy, or did each face bear a look of alarm? CHAPTER IV. THE PADRONE PRINCE. THERE was a moment’s silence, and then Mrs. Bertrand spoke in a voice at once uneven and ere , ' “We know nothing of Adam Woodman. How dare you insinuate—” Oscar made a quick gesture, and her sentence was not finished. As for the young man, his ebullition of anger had given place to a calm- ness which struck Bob as being suspicious. 7 do you come here to ask for him?” he PES doe | * *Cause he left word at ther hotel that he war one wi’ two friends o’ yourn, fer ter wisit ye ar.” if Impossible!” said Oscar, and he really looked stirtiod. ** W’ot’s on ible?” ‘That he should leave such a word.” ‘**T consider that air an insineration ag’in’ m veracity, an’ ef I was a knocker-out I should git up on my ear an’ walk all over yer Turkish car- t, but it air Stumpy who is ther fightin’ mem- bar o’ ther firm. He's a terror, is Stumpy, an’ w’ot he don’t know "bout knockin’-out ther Bos- ton artist, Mr. John L., will teach inter him next April fool-day. But, bein’s I am only a man 0’ peace, I merely rise ter remark that w’ot I said Adam said is w’ot Adam said, as I before said.” ‘‘ He has not been here,” Oscar declared. ‘““Then whar did yer friends take him?” ‘“No friends of mine have taken him any- where.” Bertrand’s voice was quite calm, but he looked at Bob in a way far from being friendly. In- deed, the boy saw a menace in his eyes which indicated future danger for Bob o’ the Bowery. ‘“Wal, they had ther giant gall ter use yer name, didn’t they?” ‘*Did they use my name?” ‘‘ They did, for sure.” + Bertrand gave his weak mustache a vicious pull, Bob was convinced that he had ‘‘ struck ile,” as he mentally expressed it, for the dude was decidedly nervous. Had he really abducted his relative? , ‘‘T don’t understand this at all,” he replied. ‘*T did not know that Mr. Woodman was in the city. Where has he been stopping? Why was he here? Who was it claimed to be my friends?” ‘‘ Wal, ez ter why he war here I ain’t prepared ter say; all I know is that two chaps claimin’ ter be friends o’ yourn called at his hotel an’ tuk him away ina cab. I’m purty well ’quaint- ed with Adam, I be, an’ I tho’rt ’d jest run in fer ter see him.” ‘‘ He’s not here, nor has he been here, and any one claiming to be friends of mine were— but, wait; [ think some one has fooled you.. Who gave you ihe message—the clerk? He focied you.” ‘‘T ain’t fooled so easy ez my *pearance would seem ter indercate. I hev got ther case cown urty fine, an’ ef Adam ain’t hyar I s’pect ter find whar he is afore ther night. Coppers tal e their ball at their corner saloon. My nose ain't *‘bove ther av’rage fur size, but it’s ekull ter a back-yard cat’s fur smellin’ mysteries out. Wal, seein’s how yer granddad ain’t hyar, [ll cut out an’ wisit ther store ter see how much ha’r Stumpy has pulled ter-day. S’pect he’s knocked _ ther stuffin’ out o’ bout half ther Bowery boys— (eit ttt LL LLL LL LLL LL LLL LLL LLL AL LLL LL LL he’s an awful bruiser, is Stumpy.” ‘* Where do you live, my boy?” asked Miss Ab- bott, kindly. “Hev got severial residences, My orfice is in ther Prodnwe Exchange buildin’, but I hev tele- phones runnin’ ter ther Five Pints, Fifth Ave- noo Hotel an’ High Bridge. Go ter any o’ them places an’ say ‘ Hello!’ an’ you'll git a reply by ther mornin’ mail.” “Oh! how can you exaggerate so?” ‘“Me? That air is somethin’ I never do. W’en I sez a thing, you kin bet yer diamonds it’s a straight tip. Ask Stumpy an’ he’ll tell ye that w’en I sez peanuts is peanuts, that’s jest w’at they be.” ‘“T shall have to call and purchase of you some time.” ‘“We're always glad ter see our friends ef they come with ther collat ter pay cash. We don’t keer ter trust—hope ye won’t think it, brashefIsayso. Stumpy is awful setin his way, but he’s a blue-blood financier with high shoes. Drop in on us an’ we'll use ye squar’. Our pea- nuts comes right from ther South Pole, an’ was growed under ther eye o’ ther Czar o’ Russia.” Bob was watching the Bertrands while he talked. They exchanged glances, and he thought. they were significant and troubled. Plain y; they did not want him in the house, but Oscar who had been so ready to bully him before, said nothing more that was rude. Had he learned to. fear the boy? The latter’s business was done, and he now took his departure. . He walked down Madison avenue in a thoughtful mood. “Tl bet a pint o’ peanuts I’ve struck ile. Them pond-lily aristocrats ain’t ther kind ter give: theirselves dead away, but they looked mig ty broke up when I give ’em that deal. I reckon let loose a devastatin’ epidemic, an it struck in. Bet my boots—ef I any—they know whar- fore Adam lit outer ther hotel so suddint-like. They decoyed him away, an’ w’en I said ez how them two abductors said they came from Oscar, it jest give him a mighty onhealthy fee'in’ ‘round ther stummick, fit ter make him belch. Now then, whar’s Adam?” Bob shut one eye and looked steadily at a lamp-post, as though he thought Adam might be hiding there. But he wasn’t. ‘¢ S’pect Pll hev ter resolve myself inter a com- mittee o’ one an’ hunt up that old chap. He’s al wool an’ a yard wide, an’ ez he’s got heaps 0’ hay-seed in his hair he needs a compertent male srotector in this hyar modern Babylon. [I'll let tumpy ‘tend ther store an’ lick them t’other chaps, an’ I'll buy me a compass an’ eye-glass an’ hunt up Adam. When t get him I'll send him straight back ter Squash Holler, with a ticket on his back so’t he won’t git lost.’ Night was drawing near, and the boy walked rapidly from Madison to Union Square, and then on down Fourth avenue andthe Bowery. Stumpy had removed the stand and closed busi- ness for the day, on account of threatening rain, so Bob wandered idly through Houston street. Not far had he gone, however, when a sharp cry came from a cross street, and, looking in that direction, he saw some sort of a confused struggle in which a man and a small girl were a good deal mixed, His first idea was that it was merely a father punishing his daughter, but a second glance showed that, while the small girl was very rag- ged, the man was flashily dressed and not more than twenty-five years old. Bob’s ardor at once aroused. He had a natu- ral antipathy against ‘‘ dudes,” and, believing one of this kind had molested a poor girl, he dashed to the rescue. ‘“‘ Hole up, thar, an’ give the cadaver a show. It’s a-comin’ on stilts, an’ it’s just full o’ meat. Thar is bones in its knuckles, an’ don’t ye furgit it. How did it feel?” The last question was asked as the young man lay sprawling in the gutter, where Bob’s half- blow, half-push assault had flung him, But he bounced up quite nimbly. 900k