Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 397 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

— Bob o’ the Bowery. -—-——S—S— oo COC ‘“Ah! ah! you talk-a too fast,” sighed To- sO. ‘* Wal, I ain’t mean enough ter hurry a per- cesh, an’ I'll git off my 2:10 trottin’ nag an’ walk wi’ you. W’ot I want is ter git ther evraight tip outer ther orgin racket. D’ye ketch on? Tomaso understood to a certain degree, and, as he was a good-hearted old man, readily gave the boy all the information he could. But Bob didn’t care a cent for points about organs, and he soon managed to turn the conversation on other subjects. The old Italian professed to know nothing about Bianca. He had taken her from a chari- table motive when her former protector died, and as he was very poor, had taken her on the street with him occasionally as a tambourine- girl, as he thereby made more money. He said she was as dear to him as a daughter, and the way in which the two looked at each other con- firmed the idea. ‘‘T shall never leave grandfather Tomaso,” said Bianca. ‘‘ Marco Gambora wants me to marry him, but I;will not.” ‘‘Nur me, neither,” said Bob. ‘‘ Why, how old be ye?” ‘** Thirteen.” ‘* Wal, I don’t a’prove o’ no marryin’ at that age, not ferJoseph. Why, I’m ’most fifteen, an’ I’m still a bachelor.” ‘Italian girls marry young,” ‘*but Marco can’t-a have Bianca. not.” “Tis said he’s a sort 0’ bully ’round hyar, an’ makes others pay fur his grub, fine clothes an’ hair-ile. The Padrone Prince, I’ve heerd him called.” ‘** Ah! he is-a very powerful among the-a It- alians, Of some he knows secrets, and he makes them pay-a or he will tell the police. Honest men-a he frightens, and they pay-a, too.” ‘** He’s a holy terror, ain’t he?’ ‘Don’t tell-a that I spoke of-a it!” said To- maso, suddenly frightened. “Not any, fer Joseph. I’m ez mum ez a mayor’s clerk. But does he ever do any funny business in this hyar palace?” ** Any what?” : ‘**Crooked biz; anything that ther law could git onter an’ warm him fer, perfesh’nally?” The old Italian shook his head. ‘*T know-a nothing about the Prince’s af- fairs.” .““S’pose he should ketch me hyar, an’ was mad, would he shet me up hyar? Could he shet a chap up hyar an’ keep him hid?” Bob was working around to the matter which had brought him to the old house. He felt re- newed confidence when he saw the organ-grind- er’s face or pale and startled. The old man raised both hands deprecatingly. ‘I know-a nothing—I know-a nothing!” he cried, ‘*Hello! hev I hit ye heavy? Mebbe Marco hez some chap shet up hyar now, eh? Ef he has, jest warble ther news ter Hannah, an’ [ll :eim- uss ye fer any cepspense ye're to. Come, who is shet up inter this house? Tomaso did not appear to hear the last words, and seemed to be looking beyond Bob o’ the Bowery. Then he lifted one hand and pointed with a shaking finger, dire alarm expressed on his face. The boy wheeled quickly. The door had been softly opened, and on the threshold stood the Padrone Prince of Mulberry street, his swarthy face twisted into an expres- sion of deadly fury; his glittering eyes turned on Bob like those of a veritable tiger. said Tomaso, I like him-a CHAPTER VII. BOB’S ROPE-WALK. PROFOUND silence reigned for a few seconds in the room. It was clear that Gambora was in a passion, and Tomaso Silva and Bianca knew him well enough so that they were thoroughly frightened. e old organ-grinder shook like a man with palsy. Even Bob o’ the Bowery was for a moment seriously disturbed. He knew a good deal about Italians. He knew they were hot-tempered and revengeful, with an inclination to use their knives upon those they hated, and he learned enough of the Prince to be aware that he was all-powerful in the Italian quarter. elieving that he was recognized, he knew not to what point Marce might go, and in that crowded Mulberry street house, whatever he did would probably never be known outside. Certainly, meek old Tomaso would not dare the wrath of the Padrone Prince. Marco’s pause enabled Bob to recover his! Bob had deftly adjusted the rope as he spoke, | ther case new. \ ee =< eee; eee Te... n—n Xk kn — — ee eee eS eee | — ——_—_— - usual ‘‘ nerve,” and it seemed to quiet the Prince | He then threw open the window. | All the street too. When he spoke, it was quite calmly. ‘* So you're here,” he said, looking at the boy. “Wal, I s’pect I sorter hev that *pearance,” was the cool reply. ss Wh 79 ‘* Lookin’ fur a hand-organ an’ monkey.” ** You lie!” ‘*Dol? Wal, now, sech a ree-mark ez that in ther Board o’ Trade ’u’d git a bloke all chawed up, but I s’pose it’s O. K. in this classic precept.” ‘* You’re here as a spy.” ‘* Sho! Go’way! Vous jokin’. W’ot’re ye givin’ us? W’ot is thar hyar ter spy at?” ‘*T heard what you said to Tomaso, and I know your game, I know you, too. You're the kid that thinks it’s cunning to stick his nose into other people’s business. it is or not.” ‘*Oh! come now, w’ot’s riled up yer stumjack so mightily? B’en a-eatin’ too much maccaroni, ain’t ye? Pow’ful bad fer ther optic narves, specially w’en ther cholera is in France. W’ot tea inter ye ez a counter-irritant.” earnestly. ‘*[ wasn’t sent; I come. tions allays duz come. I’m an ajint fer ther S’ciety fer ther Importation o’ Hoang-Ho South- down Monkeys. Kin I sell you a dozen?” The Prince did not answer. He stepped out of the room, and then slammed the door together after him. Bob sprung forward and tried to open it. It resisted his efforts. There was no bora had in some way succeeded in fastening it. Bob ran to the window and looked out. The the kind to help him. He turned to the organ-grinder. ‘*Maccaroni hez shet us up like rats, hain’t ‘* We shall all- he?” was his cool comment. ‘*Oh! oh! oh!” cried Tomaso. a be killed.” ‘*We shall? Go’way! J ain’t goin’ fer ter be wiped out. Notany, fer Joseph. Ef Maccaro- ni thinks he kin keep a flea-blown *Merican citizen inter this den, he’s mistook.” The boy kicked lustily at the door. ‘* Lemme out!” he called, shoulder ag’in’ ther pillar an’ rattle down yer hull shebang, same ez Samson did ter ther Hot- tentots. Open ther door, or you'll think ye’ve rot a Spanish 'arthquake inter hyar. I'm a Sea factory, an’ this ere’s my arternoon ou . ’ A hand touched his shoulder, and he turned and saw Bianca. ‘* Be very careful, brave boy,” she said. ‘If you go out, Marco will shoot you.” ‘Tain’t goin’ out jest yit,” said Bob, witha in. ‘* Too many ’structions in ther way. Say, omaso, start up yer orgin, an’ ther pelloocid moosic may bu’st ther door orf from its hinges.” ‘*Marco knows you,” persisted Bianca, ‘* and he hates and fears you. He called you a spy. You did not come here to ask about organs. Why did you come?” ‘Wal, now, b’gosh, you’ve got a head onter e, haven't yer? You orter be perfessor at Tale cemetery. You’d be ther boss eloocidater o’ Greek, Dutch an’ Jersey dead languages. What s’pose I do tell w’ot fer I'm hyar! Will ye help me?” Bianca glanced at Tomaso, but he seemed too much alarmed to hear what was said. ‘*T think so,” she replied in a low voice. ‘* Wal, then, has ther Padrone got an ole man shet up hyar? I’m arter a chap from Squash Holler, with hay-seed inter his back hair—Adam Woodman, ter wit, et setry. He’sa full-blooded Yankee right from ther clam-chowder deestricks o’ Connecticut, but he’s a protegee o’ mine. Hev ye see’d any sech giraffe hung onter Maccaroni’s watch-chain fer a charm?” ‘*I think there is such an old gentleman in Persida’s room.” ** 'Who’s Persida?” ** She’s Marco’s helper.” ‘Oh! she is? Wal, I wanter see ther old chap, right bad. Whar’s Persida’s parler?” ‘On the floor below, at the rear.” ** Co’reck. yourn?” ‘* It opens from the hall.” “Um! Wal, I’m goin’ that way ef you please.” ‘* How .can you?” and Bianca’s eyes opened widely. ‘Tl take that thar rope, tie one end ter ther bed-post, an’ then go down one floor. See?” W’ot’s ther winder jest under yer want is a Rochelle powder, wi’ some catnip | lamps were lit, but Mulberry street was unusu- ally quiet. He hoped. no one would observe him dangling in mid-air. He paused and looked at Tomaso. ‘“Good-by, ole pard,” he said, genially. ‘‘Sorry I can’t close no bargain ‘bout orgins this eve, but I'll see you ag’in. Ef Maccaroni | cuts up rusty, report ter me at City Hall. Bi- l'll show you whether | anca, you’re a brick fit ter be in a church, I jist cotton ter ye like a cinder ter a brakeman’s eye. Will see ye all later. Don’t call a colored domestic fer ter show me out; I kin find the door-mat.” He skipped out of the window in what seemed a reckless way, and his venture was certainly 4 reckless one. If he fell to the sidewalk he would srobably never see another Christmas. But e did not intend to fall. He could climb like a sailor, and his plan, which would have been impossible of execution to any ordinary ‘* Boy, who sent you here?” the Prince asked, | Malignant dispensa- | lock, but, even in that brief space of time, Gam- | | thought. distance to the ground was too great to be leap- | ed, and he saw no water-spout, or anything of | ‘or [Pl put my | person, seemed easy enough to him. It proved to be so, e slid down with a strong grasp on the rope until he reached the window below, and then, resting his feet on the projection, tried the lower sash. It was not fastened, and easily arose. He chuckled, swung inside, let go the rope, and was one floor nearer the ground. He was now in a hall reaching the width of the house. A light burned at the head of the stairway but it was a feeble kerosene affair, and it would not have been easy to recognize a person in the hall. Bob heard the buzz of voices on both sides of the hall, but no one was visible. ‘‘ Now fer Persida’s rocm an’ ole Adam,” he ‘“T spose ef Maccaroni gits bis awful grip onter me, ther peanut trade’ll lose its solar cistern, but no Bowery boy don’t knuckle ter Mulberry street this week; not fer Joseph!” Despite the boy’s grasp on the subject, he did not fully comprehend his danger. He had, as yet, found no one who could, and dared, tell him what Marco Gambora was to the Italian colony, or how many dark deeds were suspected of Le- ing due to his merciless work. The Prince had not won his title solely by wearing good clothes. “Cricky! I wish Stumpy was hyar. Le wouldn’t car’ a sour peanut fer all ther Maccar- onis, an’ ef they cut wp rough he’d wipe ther floor all clean wi’ em, four rounds, Marquis 0’ Quecns- berry an’ Paddy Ryan rules. Beats all crea- | tion w’ot a ‘tervible left’ that air Stumpy has ot!” With this tribute to his warlike partner, Bob glided along the hall. «He believed he had suc- ceeded in locating the ‘‘ rear room” said to be occupied by Persida, and he desired to leain if Adam Woodman was really there. So he walk- ed cautiously forward. After advancing a few steps he saw _ that the door was open, and his face fell. He went nearer and saw a wrinkled-up old Italian vo- man brooding over a fire, but there was no one else in the room, A step sounded on the stairs, and Bob got into a dark corner as soon as possible, . A man came up and, not observing the boy, walked into the room. ‘‘ Ah! where is-a your lodger, Persida?’\ he asked. ‘‘ Gone,” returned the woman, tersely. ‘* Gone?” ‘Yes. The Prince took-a fright, and-a has carried the man off in a hurry.” ‘‘ The dickens he hez!” muttered Bob. ‘“‘ By cripes, I’m too late!” ‘* Where has he-a taken him?” ‘‘T know-a not, but wait and-a you shall see. The Prince will soon be-a back. He has a boy up-stairs that wants attention.” ‘* What boy?” ‘‘ Some-a one who has spied upon him. The Prince is frightened. He-a fears discovery, and-a then he would suffer, while all the-a others would go free.” ‘‘Trust Marco to save himself. If there isa spy after him-a, the Prince will-a kill him.” ‘Not this week, he won't,” muttered Bob. ‘¢T]] slide out while slidin’ is gocd. Ole Adam hez b’en tooken away, hay-seed an’ all, an’ ef I stay hyar I'll git knifed in reg’lar Maccaroni stvle. That wouldn't sot wal on my inner man —not for Joseph,” , Before he had thought all this he was on his way down-stairs. He went softly, and no one appeared to molest him, so he was scon on the street. ‘Ther jig is up fur ther present, fer sart’m sure,” he thought. ‘‘Ole Adam hez teen took- en ter another place o’ which deponent knows nothin’. I’ve got ter begin all over, an’ pipe First o’ all, I s’pect I'd better r NS . : ‘ A