Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 426 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

= Sam hesitated, as if doubtful if he had better out ‘with what he had to say or not. ‘** Well,” he said, finally, ‘‘ ef my calculations ain’t off their base, you uster call my old side-pardner Jusband! His name was Felix Jacobi!” The Gypsy queen uttered a startled cry, and made an attempt to rise, but sunk back upon her chair. ** What?” she gasped. ‘* Jest as I sed,”’Sam replied. ‘ Felix and I have been a snucksin’ it, sence suow went off. Tho’t you know’d et, ‘cause Gril did.”’ “Thave been aware that Gril was shaping his route so as to keep on track of the poor old man, but I did not suspect he was so near. And my sur- prise is greatest that [—”’ “That you should be ’spected by me, 0’ bein’ Felix’s former wife?” ‘. Yes,”’ ‘* Well, ye see, when Felix an’I set out on ther tramp, he told me his story, an’I never fergot it, So, as we tramped tergether, I kept a weather eye out, hopin’ we might run across Felix'’s enemies. When we got hereabouts, et turned out we weren’t fur off track; so, considerin’ things thet have trans- pired, an’ what I’ve found out, an’ puttin’ this an’ that together, I arriv at the conclusion that you were Jacobi's wife, an’ thet Floss was his daugh- ter.” ‘Indeed! You say you beard Felix Jacobi's sah ‘** 'Yes’m; the bull yarn!”’ ** Did it reflect any discredit on me?”’ ‘He did not know that you were alive, until two rthree years ago. Then he learned that, instead of bein’ dead, you hed skipped ther tra-la-lah-loo wi’ Milo Mitchell.” A groan of anguish escaped the Gypsy queen, and she buried her face in her hands, When she once more raised her head, tears glist- ened in her eyes. ‘“‘Great God in Heaven! what a hideous wrong ‘the scheming of one villainous wretch can accom- plish!”? she moaned. ‘*Oh! boy, I have been fear- fully wronged, I as well as Felix. Can you give me a brief account of what he told you?” ** Guess so, tho’ Lain’t much o’ a talker. Wouldn’t "a’ never learned how to talk, myself, ef it hadn’t ‘been for my own gumption. * But, ter begin: Felix sed he went West, years ago, ter seek his fortin’, an’ left you an 'two girls ‘behind. You had a payin’ store, an’ did not need for anything; so ther first few years he was in the West, he didn’t send any money home, but banked itwhere he was. At the end of five years he sent ye home ten thousand dollars, directin’ you ter deposit it to his credit, in the home bank.”’ * He did, and | acted according to his wishes.”’ ‘* Well, it wasn’t long after this that he got notice from his cousin, Milo Mitchell, that you, your two daughters, an’ his sister, had died o’ typhoid fever, and were buried in the family cemetery. .Having no ties now ter draw him immegetly back East, Fe- lix sent Mitchell a good-sized check on the home bank, ordering him to erect grave-stuns over yer rave. 6" "Bout seven years later he started for the East wi’ another fortune of twenty thousan’. He was stopped by highwaymen, robbed, an’ the leader of the gang put vitriol m his eyes, which blinded him. ‘They then cleared out, but, as Felix remembers, the voice ov the chief an’ Milo Mitchell’s were just alike. Well, Felix swore he’d have revenge, if it took him all his life, and set forth as ablind beggar. For the last few years he has wandered from place to place, finally reaching his old Eastern home. Heer a sur- prise was waitin’ fer him. ‘He learned the deaths Mitchell reported had never taken place—that Mitchell had evlarged the check Jacobi sent him ter the full amount 0’ the bank account, and that you and he had eloped, tak- ing one daughter with you. His sister had also de- camped with the other daughter, and that was about all that was known. ** Still revengeful—mcrea so now than ever—Jacobi set out, in the belief that Providence, as he called it weuld yet guide h's footsteps ter where he would meet those who had wronged him. This sprivg I met him, an’ we’ve tramped together sence till last night, wben be so mysteriously evaporated,” ‘** Disappeared, you mean?”’ ‘*Yas, tho’ evaporated hits it, too.” “Did Felix have any idea how near he was to us?”’ ‘* Yas, I think he did, ferhe hed been sayin’, ther past week, that intuition told him he was nearin’ the end of his journey. This, I took it, meant his ever- lastin’ ip Sg fer the od gent has been goin’ down hill fast fer some little time, an’I didn’t ’spect ter hev his company very much longer.”’ A look of unutterable sadness passed over Mrs, _Jacobi’s fac. ‘** Poor Felix!’?s’e said. ‘*‘God grant he may live until all can be on goa And, now, my dear boy, erhaps you would like to hear my story. It isn’t ong. and maybe you will not believe it. Lut, as God is my witness. it is true.” ‘‘ Of course I'd like to hear et, ma’am. Tain’t one -o’ them kind as will b’lieve a!l o’ one side o’ a story without hearin’ t’other side.” ‘You are very sensible. My husband did go ‘West, as you have said. He was ambitious to ac- «quire a competency, and the gold fields offered the most attraction. encouraged him, and he went. T had a little store that brought myself and children in a comfortable living, and there was no need for him to send his earnings home. We corresponded regularly, and all went well. After five years’ ab- ‘sence, he sent me the ten thousand, and it was de- “posited to his credit in the home bank, as I was not mm need of it, ry = — v . v 12 Sam Slabsides, the Beggar-Boy Detective. ‘Shortly after this. he wrote me he was about to enter a mining synaicate, and needed every cent he could get—or, at least, I supposed he wrote the letter, until I found different when too late. He told me to dispose of all we had in the East, draw the money from the bank and join him in the West, bring Florence with us, and leaving Dora behind, in Judith Jacobi’s charge, until she should finish her studi.s. ** Milo Mitcbell was named to help me, and to see me safely West, and the check sent was payable to him, my husband saying he could take better care of the money én route. “IT had been acquainted with Mitchell but a short time, and knew nothing particularly about him, and trusting implicitly in my husband’s good judgment, I made hasty preparations and we started. ‘**It was not till we were beyond the railroad ter- minus, alone on the prairie that Mitchell made known to me the terrible truth. My husband, he de- clared, was dead, and the letter a forgery, per- petrated by his, Mitchell’s, own hand, with a view of securing the whole fortune, On leaving the East, he confessed that he had caused to be left behind undeniable proof that I had eloped with him, thus having ruined mein the eyes of those who had al- ways known me to bé a true and honorable woman. So, the only refuge left for me, he declared, was to settle down with him in the West, under another name, and live with him as his wife. * You can imagine my horror and indignation. Of course I scornfully refused to accede to such a proposition, and thereupon, he deserted us in mid- prairie, without food or means. We managed to get back to the bounds of civilization, whera I sold my jewelry, realizing enough money to provide for our immediate needs, “To test the truth of the scandalous report he had told, I caused a home paper to be sent to me. Then I saw he had not lied. The nero gene a glaring account of the elopement and said were either of us to show our faces at that place again, we would be tar-and-feathered. ‘**Of course I did not return home. I wrote to Judith, but never received an answer. I wrote to California, to Felix, but never got a word in return. The trouble so wore on me that I think I should have committed suicide, had it not been for Floss, here, Finally, I met a schoolday chum, who had turned Gypsy, and after hearing my story, he in- duced me to join the tribes. I did so. As years passed by, the tribe grew large and a division was deemed advisable. It was made, and I was made quee 1 of the new tribe, which position I have since 1 wf “Nearly three years ago Gril Guyandotte joined us, and I learned that he had recently left Milo Mitchellin the West. From him I ascertained that my husband wss not dead at all, and also was told of the terrible indignity that had been prac- ticed on Felix. Guyandotte, for some years previously to that outrage, had been Mitchell's valet. After that crime he wasso ho'rified that he resolved to lead a life of honor and REDEB AROS. After finding me and hearing my story, he joined hands with me in swearing that Mitchell should be punished. * After much roving w® got on track of Felix—not until he had reached his Eastern home ! owever,and learned, as he supposed, of my infidelity. But Mitchell we could not find. After getting on track of Felix we never lost it. Time and again have I prayed to go to him, get down on bended knees, and try to convince him of my faithfulness, and of how much we have both been wronged, but on every oc casion Guyandotte has restrained me.”’ ** What for?”’ ‘* Because, he argued that the proper time had not yet come for a reconciliation and reunion, ‘ Wait,’ said he, ‘and be patient. Assure as I believe in an All-wise Being, I believe that Felix Jacobi will, in his wanderings, yet guide us to where Milo Mitchell is living in luxury on bis ill-gotten gains, Then, vengeance and vindication can be accomplished at one and the same time.’ So I desisted, though it wrung my heart to do so.”’ “Then you do not know that Gril’s prophecy turned out O, K?”’ ‘* Yes, I know that Milo Mitchell lives here, under the alias of Jamison. Gril made this Ciscovery.”’ “So did I, an’,as sure as there’s hair on a cat, we'll make it hot fer the judge, afore long!’’ Sam declared. He then went on and apprised Mrs. Jacobi of the singular disappearance of Guyandotte. She was greatly alarmed. ** Oh! this is so unfortunate!” she said, explaining the feeling in the camp against ber and Floss. ‘* Parson Jim is my bitter enemy because I refused to marry him, and he swore to-day, if Guyandotte did not putin an appearance before morning, he’d drive us from the camp.” ** He won’t have the chance!’’ Sam declared. mak- ing the same proposal to her that he had to Floss. ‘**i’m sure farmer Norris will take you in.”’ “You are very kind; but are you not exceeding your authority? I could not think of going there without being positive that I would be allowed to tender my services in return for our food and shelter.” “Oh! that would be all rizht, without the least doubt. Eut, tersatisfy ye, I'll go and see, an’ then come back for you.”’ Very well. We will await your return, anxious- y And so Sam Slabsides left the tent. As he did so he saw Parson Jim skulk away into the shadow of a wagon. That he had been listening to the conversation car- ried on within the tent was evident. : ve?“ —i* , _ , _. ae tr 2 ” . £m b » q * « ¢ “ * 4 ’ _ T Tr” Ls epg a 2c. ~ae a - «t i 7 het ap a se > $7 ae Vee Aa. — _* = Pt Sam set his teeth, grimly. ** That chap is a rascall’”’ he muttered. ‘* But he’d better not offer to harm them.”’ CHAPTER XIV. SAM GOES FISHING. SAM SLABSIDES went at once to Honeybrook farm, and finding farmer Norris still up, apprised him of all that had occurred since he set out to the Van Gelder mansion. The farmer listened attentively, and when Sam had finished he nodded his bead slowly. ‘Strange! strange!’’ he said. ‘‘ We pass through this life with but a vague idea of what is going on around us. Astounding villainy and horrible crimes creep close to our hearthstones, and yet we aro oft imes unaware of the fact—unmindful but what the world is as fair and peaceful to all others as it is to ourselves.”’ ‘*Yas, mebbe that’s so,’ Sam admitted; “but thar’s a heap o’ diff’rence twixt livin’ in luxury, an’ bein’ grow'd up in the gutters uv a big city from ther time ye’r’ the size uv @ Cigar stub. We gillies w’ot wer’ fetched up in ther lap of an alley, ‘stead o’ the lap o’ luxury, don’t ferget thet thar’s folks gittin’ knocked around the world—not by a jugful! But say—what "bout Mrs. Jacobian’ my chum Floss?”’ ‘Bring them here, most certainly. My home shall be theirs as long as they choose to remain, and if this singularly separated family can be united, nothing in the world will do old John Norris’s heart more good,” And so Sam went back to the Gypsy camp and conveyed the good news to Mrs. Jacobi and Floss, and bundling up the few effects they had, they started toaccornpany Sam from the camp. They were intercepted? however, by Parson Jim, who, with an ugly scowl upon his face, stepped in ibeir path, ‘* Hold up, here!”” he commanded, authoritatively. ** May I make bold to inquire where you are going, madam?” ‘*T am goint to leave camp, sir. You said if Guy- andotte did not return before morning you would drive me out. So I will save you the trouble.” ‘*You cannot go.”’ ‘+ What?” “You cannot go. I rule this camp, now, and my word is law. Return to your tent at once; and as for this young ragamuffin—’’ and Jim turned to glare savagely at Sam. His expression changed, however, and he uttered a broad oath. This was caused by his discovery that a revolver was leveled directly at him by the young tramp. The weapon was cocked, too, and Sam looked as if he would rather pull the trigger than not. ‘“*Say, lookee heer, mister !’’ he cried, *‘ der ye see me gun? Ef ye do, an’ yer know which side yer bread is buttered on, you’d better take a quiet sneak! Mebbe Sammy Slabsides is a rag’muffin, an’ all that sorter thing, but he ain’t afeard o’ no long- geared giraffe like you / So you step aside, and let us pass, or by the great high-kickin’ Christopher Columbus I'll shoot the eyewinkers off’m you. Git/ There’s not a minute to spare!”’ That Sam meant business, Parson Jim did not seem to doubt, for swearing roundly, he stepped to one side, and allowed the trio of friends to pass out of the camp. “Oh! € tell yer, when I git me dignity up I’m er reg’lar daisy-bender!”? Sam chuckled, as they hur- ried away toward Honeybrook farm, ‘*Mebbe my senatorial phiz ain’t as classic as that o’ the Jersey Lily, but my inflooence is jest as sure ov the per- simmons.”’ They reached Honeybrook without further inci- dent, and here Mrs. Jacobi and Floss were so heart- ily welcomed by the sturdy, big-hearted old farmer, that they could not help but feel at home. Several days passed. . : Vrank Jamison was buried. his funeral being one of the largest ever known in those parts. Neither Ralph Jamison nor Dolly Denning attend- ed it, although the former spent an hour of silent mourning before the coffin of his murdered brother, prior to the services, Which were held at Larech- mont. As for Dolly Denning she could not attend, for when the news of the murder reached her. she was prostrated with grief, and fever and delirium set in, making it necessary for her to have the attendance of a doctor. Doctor Kendall was her attendant. his services having been provided by Judge Jamison, Although the local authorities were wide-awake, hoping to capture Gril Guyandotte, they were, of course, unsuccessful, Guyandotte was nowhere to be found, This fact did not seem to dispel the belief that he was hiding in the neighborhood, and would yet be secured, The general belief was that the dashing Gypsy was the murderer, and should he be found, there were large chances that he would never be given a legal trial, but would be hanged to the most con- venient tree, i % And, what was Sam Slabsides doing in the mean ime? Practically nothing. lt was not because he was not eager to proceed with his case, but because he did not know just how to set to work in a way that would entail any cer- tainty of success. He flit'ed here and there, about the reighborhood seldom putting in much time at the farm: heh examined the Van Gelde: mansion twice, by day- light; he had lurked around Larchmort. and spotted the movements of the judge; but all to no use,