Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 397 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

—__- _ me, a es ——— CJ Bit home an’ sleep a few dozen o’ revivin’ winks. feel ther need o’ a Brussels mattress an’ hoss- hair carpet. Good-by, Prince Maccaroni; I'll see ye w’en ther sun goes down.” alking nimbly, he soon left Mulberry street, but had not reached his humble quarters when the sight of two men just ahead engaged in a war of fists aroused his interest in pugilism. He ran toward them, and, as the street was quiet and deserted by all, policemen not excepted, chanced to be the only witness of the affair. “ Hello!” he said, aloud. ‘‘I know one 0’ them pile-drivers; it’s Crow McGookin, ther Terror, an’— Great Scott! I'll eat my patent- leathers ef t’other ain’t Gus Redding, ther chap that ‘u’d marry Helena Abbott ef Oscar, ther dude, hadn’t got ther inside track. Whew!” CHAPTER VIII. THE ITALIAN SAILOR. Bos was right. One of the gentlemen was he who had taken the boy’s part so valiantly on Fourteenth street, when Oscar Bertrand made the accusation of pocket-picking, and just as the Bowery’ lad realized this, Redding sent in a scientific blow which leid Mr. Crow McGookin over in the gutter. When he regained his feet he unceremoniously took to his heels and disappeared around the corner. ‘* Wal done, by cricky! Ye did that bloke up brown, in style fit fur John L., ther slugger. Yee a rattler from Rattle-bang, you be. Don’t know but one chap in York that kin beat ye, an’ him is Stumpy, my pardner. He’s jesta pile-driver on stilts w’en he gits down ter solid work,” The enon had been waiting for a chance ot tos ; ae his is you, my young friend?” ‘*S’pect it’s w’ot is left onter me. I ain’t no- body else. Don’t see nothin’ in my class’cal fee- tur’s ter ’mind ye o’ Jay Gould or Adrian Hitt, ther prize walkist, do ye?” ‘Nothing. So Bertrand hasn’t had arrested yet?” ‘* Not any fer Joseph.” ss ** He did not think you took that purse?” ** Jest my idee o’ fried rattlesnakes. But why did he go fer ter injure my repootation ez a man *bout town?” ‘That’s what I have vainly asked myself. He knew you were innocent, so why did he pounce upon you ?? musingly asked Redding. ‘My only explanation is that he selected you because he was anxious to have the theft fasten- ed on some one.” ** By\Chri’mus!” ‘What now?” ‘Why, it nat’rally follers that he—Oscar, ther dude, his own personal, sole self—was ther kpicket. Course he war, an’ ez he hed ther eather in his pocket when ‘twas diskivered missin’, that wos w’y he wanted a wictim.” ‘* Not so fast. Remember he is a rich man, and that Miss Abbott is his future wife. Why sat he steal a few beggarly dollars from er? _** Wot else besides money was inter ther pocket-book ?” ‘** That I don’t know.” ** Wal, ’'m goin’ ter find out.” ‘You are? How?” ‘*By axin’ Miss Abbitt. I ‘low that Oscar, ther dude, stole ther leather, not fur ther boodle inter it, but fer some other article. Me an’ ther dude ain’t pals by seven miles, an’ I’m arter him heavy. Say, it’s mighty odd Miss Abbitt cottons ter him when sech a white man ez you ’re a candidate fer ther orfice o’ ice-cream beau.” Redding smiled. ‘** You seem to have a good opinion of me, but, so far as Bertrand is concerned, their engage- ment is an old family matter, and [’m not sure but the lady is anxious to recede from it. Oscar seems to have that fear, and is jealous of I believe this recent assault is due to him. He would like to see my name paraded in the papers as having been in a drunken row, which would probably be the way the reporters would lash it up, for sensation, if I had come to grief. Luckily, I was too much for the ruffian.” - Right you are, boss. You laid his nibs out fer keeps. But, look out; Crow McGookin is a bad ’un, an’ef he kin git a lick at ye on yer blind side, he'll do it an’ never turna hair.” ‘** Thank you for your warning; and now Ill leave you, asl aminabhurry. Good-night.” Redding shook Bob’s none-too-clean hand cor- dially, and then turned and walked rapidly neers 5 ‘““He’s a good one from his big toe ter his bump o’ weneration, an’ I’d like him for a pard. you Bob o’ the Bowery. I’s about ter tell him w’ot I know ’bout Adam, o’ Squash Holler, but I must postpone it till a more orspicious ’cashun.” ; The boy walked on, but his adventures were not yet over. He soon arrived where a police- man was bending over a man who lay on the sidewalk. Bob’s first idea was that the ‘‘ mem- ber of the finest” had been using his club, but this was not so. He was supporting the un- known with care and kindness. ‘* How was ye hurted?” asked the policeman. ‘* Fell off an Express train-a,” replied a thick voice. ‘**Do ye mane a street-car?” ‘** No; I said an Express train-a.” ‘** Who are yez, onyhow, me b’ye!” ‘I’m a sailor. Look-a at my arm, and-a you'll see a chain and-a anchor.” ‘* What is dhe name ave yer vessel?” ‘* She didn’t have-a any.” ‘* Bless me soul, he’s clane gonein dhe hi’d ave him,” observed the officer. “‘ Oi ixpect he fell off ave a care, or rin afoul ave wan o’ dhe angs., ‘* He’s Italian, hain’t he!” Bob asked. All the replies of the injured man had been thick, slow and absently spoken, but he now seemed to revive suddenly. ** Si, sil” he explained. ‘ Italy—Venice—a son of the sea. Take me to Bianca!” ‘*Hey?”’ cried Bob. ‘‘ Bianca? Who's she? Do ye “hes Tomaso Silva, 0’ Mulberry street?” ‘* Bianca? I know only Bianca!” The man had relapsed into his old sluggish manner, and the patrolman shook his head, ‘* No use,” he said. ‘‘ He’s gota fracture ave dhe skull, or some sich thrombte: Pil have to— Begorra, here’s the roundsman!” roundsman was indeed approaching, and when he had failed to make the man talk intel- ligibly, an ambulance was summoned and he was taken to the hospital. Bob remained near until he was taken away, and then pursued his former course, ‘** Wish [ knowed all about that chap. So he wanted fer ter see ‘ Bianca,’ did he? Now, lem- me argue ther case. Ther friend o’ Adam’s [talian son-in-law, whosent ther paper ter Adam so he c’u'd find his granddarter, was an Italian sailor. This chap is an Italian sailor. I think Adam ’s granddarter is Bianca, ther tambourine- leet This man wanted ter see ‘ Bianca.’ Now, [ll bet a pint o’ stereo ag’in’ City Hall that this hyer is jest the same chap. Tl keep on thinkin’ so till I git at the rights o’ this case, an’ git at ’em I will ef I bu’st my broadcloth Prince Albert!” Bob o’ the Bowery was up at an early hour the following morning, and, after eating some- thing, he had a social talk with S‘umpy, his warlike partner, and then walked brickly ‘o- ward the Bowery. He paused short of that point, however, and, entering a house, found his red-haired girl-friend, Nan, washing dishes. ‘* Hullo, Queen Vic!” was his salutation. ‘* Makin’ ther royal china shine like a dude’s eye-glasses, ain’t ye?” ‘* Dudes orter know,” retorted the girl, giving her dish-cloth a flourish. ‘*T s’pect you're an authority on them cattle,” said Bob, placidly, ‘‘ though I never knowed afore whar yer silks an’ satins come from.” ‘* You was goin’ ter send me’round a diamond this mornin’. Whar is it?” ‘“°T won't be hyar afore noon. "'was so heavy it broke down Adams’s Express wagon, an’ Adams has got ter go over inter Brooklyn an’ borrer another vehighcle. But this ain't biz, an’ biz is w’ot I come onter. D’ye wan’t a job?” ** Ain’t I got a job?” ‘Go ’way! I mean, force.” ‘Yas, an’ I want a thousand dollars. Mebbe you kin git ’°em both fer me,” retorted Nan. ‘*Nary thousand; I voted ther wrong ticket fer mayor. But see yere, Nan; no foolishin’ now. 1 want ye ter do some biz. IT want a man watched, He’s got two eyes in his head, an’ is sharp ez ther rail tera hoss-car, an’ ef I pipe him he'll tumble. But he won’t s’pect no gal ter be on that lay.” ‘Wot’s inter it?’ thoughtfully asked Nan, pausing with a plump hand on each side of the dish-pan, ‘“Thar’s a boodle, but I can’t say how much ter a figger.” “Wot fer d’ye want him piped? I hope ye ain’t j'ined a gang, Bob, an’ gone ter ther bad. I’ve knowed ye ever sence we was young, an’ I'd hate ter hear it on ye. ‘Sides, I don’t help ter git no innercent man inter ther hands o’ sharpers.” The girl spoke earnestly. Her light manner onter ther detective had disappeared, and it was plain that a good and honest heart beat under the ill-fitting, rag- ged dress she wore. Her gray eyes looked re- roachfully out at Bob from under her wild, red ir which, regardless of fashion, would wave and crimp whether or no. ‘*Great Scott! w’at be ye talkin’ about?’ de- manded the young detective. ‘‘ D’ye take me ter be a Thug? See anything "bout me that re- sembles a river-pirate? Does my classic mu look like a bunco-steerer’s? S’pect I’m a travel- in’ agent fur some Fagin? Not any, fer Joseph. I'm a perivate detective, an’ about ter ’stablish a bureau in orposition ter Pinkerton’s. Ax In- spector Byrnes.” “That'll do, Bob. I reckon ye're all straight, an’ hope ye won’t hold ill-will cause I spoke right out,” said honest Nan. Ye? ‘* Not any, fer Joseph?” replied Bob, heartily; and then he gave her such points as he saw fit about Adam Woodman’s second disappearance; adding that her work was to dog Marco Gam- bora and try to learn where he had taken the old man. His idea that the Padrone Prince would not think of suspecting a small girl to be a spy was a good one, and Nan entered into the schaniel with zeal. This matter being settled, Bob left the house and started off on another errand he had in his mind, but not far had he gone when he heard his name called. Turning, he saw a fine private carriage in the street, and from the open win- dow proach. CHAPTER IX, CONFIRMATION OF BOB’S SUSPICIONS. Bos was surprised, but not in the least inclin- ed to decline the invitation. Miss Abbott look- ed pleasant, kind and gracious, and her treat- ment of him in the past had quite won the boy’s heart. He went promptly toward the carriage and took off his cap politely—he had ‘‘ swappe back” with Patsy, the bootblack, and now wore his usual suit, with the long coat which dangled almost to his heels. ‘‘ Good-morning,” said Miss Abbott. ‘‘ Would you like to ride?” ‘‘Et costs five cents on a keer, onless we kin spot a bob-tail an’ hook on behind,” explained / the young detective. ‘Nonsense! “I’m not talking about cars; I mean in this carriage, with me,” she replied. * Wot, me git in thar?” ‘* Certainly.” ‘* You’re givin’ me taffy.” ‘Oh! you perverse creature. is open—will you come in?” : ‘“WillI? Dye s’pose I refuse orfice when it’s orfered? Not any, fer Joseph. In I gits, though w’ot fer J don’t know, ez I'm neither useful ner swell. But ther kerriage is swell, an’ so be you, an’ mebbe you want me fur a terrible egg-sam- le.” , By this time they were in motion. Bob had settled back on the elegant cushions, and was very much at his ease, though he carefully kept his muddy shoes away from Miss Abbott’s fine dress. ‘‘T have been looking for you,” she explained. ‘*T went first to where you said your store was —why, the ‘store’ is only a peanut stand, Robert—and your partner, Mr. Stumpy, di- rected me—” ‘* Ha! ha! ha!” Bob burst into explosive laughter which sur- prised and rather startled Helena. ‘*'Why do you laugh?” she asked. ‘*Oh! it’s too rich for even Astor"House soup. ‘Mister’ Stumpy! Gosh all baked peanuts, wouldn’t he smole a smile ter hear that. _* Mis- ter’ Stumpy! Now, ef you’s ter call me Mister it'd be all right, but Stumpy is sech a tough an’ bruiser. Say, miss, what was that awful boy doin’? Did ye see any headless bodies, or body- less heads, loafin’ ’round nigh him? Was he lickin’ Tim, the bootblack, or Ned, ther chap that sells ther one-hoss papers? Did ye see any ambulances or boneianinnl holdin’ up ther was Stumpy settin’ up a 9 See! The door Iamp-post? In brief hospittle "round thar? ‘“No, sir, he was not, and I believe you wrong him by giving him such a character. He don’t look in the least like a Bghting boy. I believe you are the hard boy of the firm. But, never mind this: I want to ask you a question, and I want a serious answer.” ‘¢ You shall hev it, miss,” declared Bob, aban- doning his levity at once. ‘Do you know you created a commotion at Oscar Bertrand’s house when you called there?” ‘Did I? What fur?” ; i ate Oh a 5 P i Las 4 of PAG eto © SB elele elena Abbott was beckoning him to ap-