Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 426 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

\, be? if SCANS pion aie 0 es ar ac cmminaanate.. Ja ib he, eee “i 7? Meet ext ate " SST "ws ; ; Sam Slabsides, the Beggar-Boy Detective. 3 His home, however, was also the home of two acopted sons, who answered to the bames of Frank and Ralph Jamison. rhey were twin brothers, and had been adopted Sy the late Mrs. Jamison, when they were infants, at which time their parents bad been killed by a vailroad accident. Judge Jamison had not always beenrich. Indeed, -~t was only within the latter few years that he had “massed his wealth, cleared off. the tax+s and mort- gages on his estate, and built the sumptuous home he now occupied, | | | | | | Unlike his brother, Frank had grown up rather in- dependent. ather than ask for anything he needed, he would go without it, **Oh! well, that’s altogether a different matter!” the judge said, off-handedly. ‘*No doubt you like Dolly, as she is a very charming young girl, but you _ see this thing of our visiting lvy Cottage when she i | That he had acquired his wealth through being a | jndge of the Supreme Court was not probable. for the salary was not large; hence it was a matter of | conjecture how he got bis money, in so brief a time, Some av rred that he gambied in stocks; but, if s0, he did it in such a quiet manner that Do one at home could prove anything of the sort. Mrs. Jamison had died fifteen years before, and shortly after her decease, Jamison had placed the children at school, and gone West. He was absent about a year, and when he return- ed he was said to be as poor as when he went away. Somehow, he had managed to get into politics, however, had studied law, and finally made rapid strides, until he became judge. It was not until long after this, that prosperity seemed to smile on him. About three hours before the meeting of Frank Jamison and the young tramp, Sam Slabsides, upon ‘tthe shore of Dark Pond, Judge Jamison sat by a window, in his elegantly furnished parlor, looking out upon the lawn. He was a large, massively built man, of imposing and stately appearance. His head, a trifle bald, was well developed, and his face ful and round, with large gray eyes, whose natural expression was rather cold and stern, His hair was frosted with white, and his well-trim- med mustache was the same. His dress was suggestive of quiet but particular taste, and he wore a costly diamond ring and pin. There was a look of displeasure upon his tace, as he gazed from the window, upon the lawn, “lt is too aggravating to bear with any longer!”’ he said, aloud, *‘ and we may as wellcome to an un- derstanding, at once. I have formed my resolution, and it shall not be broken.” He touched a cal!-bell, near at hand, and afew minutes later, a negro boy, in livery, entered the room, * Julius, is Master Frank about the house?” the judge asked, without diverting his attention from the awn. * Yes, sah. He is out at the stable, sah.”’ ‘“‘o tell him, then, that I want him. Where ig ‘Ralph?’ ‘**Gone to the city, sah!” “Ah! Julius, did he come in late last night?” ‘* After two, sah.”’ ‘* Had he been drinking?” “Deed, I don’t know, sah. I didn’t smell him bref!’ ‘That will do. Go tell Frank to come here.” The servant nodded, and took his departure. In the course of five minutes Frank Jamison en- tered the room. : ** Did you want me, sir?”’ he inquired, pausing near ‘tthe judge, hatin band. “Yes, I want you,” was the reply. “I have ra peseg that you were at Ivy Cottage again last night?’ “Yes, sir, I was!” Frank assented, flushing slightly. ‘*Ah! then the report was true. I believe it was Jess than a week ago, Frank, that I hinted to you that you could please me best, by keeping away zrom Ivy Cottage--was it not?” a | believe you did hint something of the sort, r ’ “And yet, knowing this, you went there in oppo- sition to my wishes.”’ Frank's cheeks flushed still rosier, and his eyes sparkled with spirit, “I have always been an obedient son, I believe,” the said; “even more go than Ralph. But, now I have arrived at an age, when I consider it a matter within my own jurisdiction, where I go, and with whom I associate.”’ ‘*Indeed! You are carrying your ideas quite too high, sir. You will remember you are not twenty- one yet!” / ** But Iam so near to it, that there’s no fun in it!” “That matters not. Tas good as ordered you to keep away from Ivy Cottage, and you shoud have heeded me. You aroaware that [ have been paying my addresses to Miss Denning, with a view of bring- ing her to Larchmont. ‘And you are aware, sir, that Dolly and I have ‘ourted for the last two years! ‘*Bah! bosh! you, a mere chit ofa boy! Wh , sir, marriage should be the last of your ambitions. What in the world have you got toward supporting a e? ‘* A stout heart, a willing mind, and a strong pair of arms, sir."’ “Nonsense! You'd make a fine husband, to drag a pretty girl down to a life bordering On pauperism, For, of course, you could not expect me to counte. nance your marriage, no matter who you might * Nor should I as’: you, sir. Iam thankful for al you have ever done for me, but you will please bear in mind, that, since I was fifteen, I have never asked you for a cent—not one! What money, weed | ard trinkets I have had, have always been tendere me, without my asking.” ‘ The judge winced, for he knew this to be the . > 4 is really not at liberty to entertain you, is neither right nor honorable in you.”’ ** Why hasn't she a right to entertain me?” Frank demanded, hotly. “I am always welcome when I go there!”’ ‘In a formal way, however. Dolly is a very con- siderate girl, and she feels compelled to act friendly toward you, from the fact that you have grown up together. That your visits to Ivy Cottage should cease, however, you must know, when I tell you, sir, that Dolly Denning bas promised to become my wife within the month!” * What!” The announcement appeared to daze young Jami- son. ** Just as I say,” the elder went on, with a spice of triumph in histone, ‘‘She already has the engage- ment-ring in her possession. So you see. that all hopes of your winning her are futile, and you might as well take matters coolly and sensibly.”’ Frank made no reply. He stood staring vacantly at the floor, powerless to express the feeling that rose within him, “You know, Frank,’’ Judge Jamison continued, ‘*that I have always planned that you and Jessie should marry. Of course—”’ ‘Enough!’ Frank cried with sudden force, ‘ Jes- sie and I are practically sister and brother, and could never marry. Dolly Denning lovés me, and [love her. What power you have exercised to compel her to marry you, 1 know not; but I do know that she shall never become your wife, sir, if I have to kill her at the altar, and then kill myse!f£!”” And, with these words, the adopted son turned and left the parlor, leaving the judge in what might safely be termed, an unenviable frame of mind. CHAPTER It. THE MYSTERY OF THE MANSION. Tar highway ran along the shore of Dark Pond, until it reached its southern extremity, whence it continued on in an irregular cour e through the fer- tile and populous valley, where were located many happy and picturesque homes, 6 the southern extremity of the pond the road ran around the base of a biuff of considerable mag- nitude, that rose precipitously on all of its sides, and covered an area of about two acres, It was a singular Jandmark, rising as it did from an almost level valley-bottom, and what by no means detracted from its novelty was the fact that there was located on top of it, fully thirty feet above the level of the pond or highway, a large, square, barn-like house. { It was evidently an “ old timer,” for the paint had long since become worn off by the attacks of the elements, and there was scarcely a whole p-ne of glass to be seen in the numerous windows, and sev- eral of the shutters hung by one hinge, That the place was untenanted appeared evident. After leaving the scene of his interview with Frank Jamison, Sam Slabsides, the young tramp, trudged along thedusty road until he came to the base of the bluff. Here, seated by the roadside upon a plot of grass, was an old, gray-haired man, If appearances went to indicate anything, he had long since turned the shady side of sixty, for his once tall and stately figure was painfully bent, and ne mremsbled as if his nerves were entirely shat- ered. His beard, like his hair, was long, white and mat- ted, and covered the greater portion of his face. His eyes he kept tightly closed, from which fact it became apparent that he was blind. Hat he wore none, and his clothing was about as ragged and scanty as that of young Slabsides. ASsnarie3 staff upon the ground beside him indi- cated that he was too weak to travel without some artificial support, : His face had been beating in his hands, but as Sam came up he slightly raised his head, ‘Is that you, my son?” he inquired. . es, Felix’ it’s me, Of course. Been awake ong? “Not very long, Sammy. I was dozing, when s0me one rode by on horseback, and awakened me,”’ j ‘Yas; that war ther povey as wer’ goin’ ter com- mit susancide back here & piece,”’ **Hal what say you?” “TI sed it wer’ the feller what wer’ goin’ ter ker- mit susancide back heer on the lake-shore, only I skeert him out o’ it, by lettin’on Lwanted ter see how the racket worked. Jest like sum chumps— jest ’cause a feller wants ter pick up. p'inters about polentific matters, they change color an’ play mu- shvV ‘* Who was going to commit suicide, Sammy?” * Oh! a gailus-lodkin’ young chap what calls his- self Frank Jamison. You see, he fell in love with sum gal, an’ the gal gives Frank the mitten, an’ goes in fer Frank’s old man, who I ‘spect aire a big- ger bug than Frank is. An’ so, Frank gits jealous, an’ makes up his mind ter put an end to hisself by an eternal soak in the pond. When he found I was sizin’ up his racket, tho’, an’ calculatin’ how near his shoes and cast-off garments would fit me, he got his mad up. mounted his horse and rid off, like he was chased by a band 0’ Injines.”’ * St e that a young Man should seek to take his own life!’ old Felix said, slowly, ‘* That is a + y . 4 * * 4, how 2 Sis " ey a we — 1? on rievous sin before God. Even I, sinned against ag have been, and for years suffering the tortures o the damned, would scorn to make an attempt on my life.”’ * Yas, but you ain’t everybody, Felix. Some fel- lers gits the love complaint so bad, that they’re clean gone off their base. But come! We can’t stay here chinnin’, fer there’s goin’ to he a rain- storm, an’ we wanter be findin’ shelter. Ye know yer instytution are so frail that, if you wer’ ter git a soakin’, yer might kick the bucket.” **No, no! There is no fear of my dying yet—none whatever. T cannot die until I have obtained my re- venge—I cannot die until I have obtained my re- venge!”’ ‘**Oh! well, we'll jest let the revenge take keer of itself for the present, while we lcok out for shel- ter,’ ; **So be it, my boy—it shall be as you say. But the hour of my revenge is not far off. Something tells me that 1 am nearing the end of my journey, and that the hour to strike is not far off. ut, lead on, my boy. You have stuck by old Felix Jacobs like an own son, and your reward shall come when yor least expect it.”’ ‘There, now, give ’s a rest on that, Felix; You know you haven't got anything to leave be- hind when your claim here below peters Out; so what's the good o’ yer makin’ promises? “Why, yer ain't even got er clean shirt to git planted in, an’ ef beggin’ don’t pan out no better in the next few days than it has in the past, we won't “pl enuff moncy ter rent a spade ter dig a grave er ye,”’ ‘Never mind—never mind!’ the old man mum- bled, as he got on his feet. ‘* You’ve been a good boy to me, and you sha’n’t go unrewarded,”’ ‘You'll have to be gittin rich purty soon, then, that’s my say!" Sam declared. ‘‘For Vil bet you can’t make a showin’ of enough cash ter b’y a meal fera mouse, Sol ain’t goin’ ter take no stock in inheritin’ yer imaginary riches, That ain’t w’otI shook the dust.o’ Philymedelphia off me gaiters fer —nixee! 1 allns make et a point ter summer in the rural deestricks, like all the high toned Congress- men, an’ that was my ideer afcre I run across you.” ‘But you won't leave me, Sammy—you won't leave me, until I reach my poumey s end?” the old ‘man tremulously demanded. * Waal, that depends suthin’ how fer off that end may be,” the boy replied, with a sbrug of his shoul- ders ‘‘ When ther snow begins ter gather under foot, Treckon I'll be makin’ tracks toward the city, where a feller kin keep warm on the lunch-route, besides turnin’ in an occasionnl dime at sbinin’ shoes. But, et will be some time afore winter!” ‘Ay, ay! so it will, and ere that time arrives my mission will be accomplished.” ‘*Good gracious! I hepe so, But, ccme! there’sa house up this biuff, and’ by the looks, I den’t reckon any one lives init. If not, it will make a daisy place to spend the night.’’ And grasping old Felix by the arm, Sam assisted him to climb up a rugged sort of path that ascended one side of the curious hill, The clouds had now overcast all of the Western horizon, and it was rapidly getting dark. The thunder rumbled more noisily along the hori- zon, and zig-zag streaks of lightning began to play across the face of the clouds, When they arrived at the top of the hill, Sam found that his surmise about the old house was correct, It was untenanted, and probably had been so for several months, if not longer; for the grounds were grown up waist high with rank weeds, and the front double-doors stood wide open, A piazza ran entirely around the house, which, Sam judged, must contain a great number of rooms, At that hour, and with the storm and darkness coming rapidly on, the place had a desolate and un- canny appearance, to say the least, and the young tramp surveyed it witha lative whistle. ‘* Looks like it might be a reg'lar old ghost-roost,’” he silently commented. ‘** Wonder why no one don’t live here? Et would make a hossy place, wi’ a little fixin’,”’ When they reached the house, Sam bade old Felix be seated on the piazza, while he made a recon- noissance, | And while he enters the house, let us refer more particularly to old Jacobi. He claimed, that several years before, he had been attacked by highwaymen in the West, which he was leaving at the time, the bearer of a fortune accumu- lated by mining. After robbing him, the chief of the highwaymen had, in revenge for Jacobi’s having killed two of his men, touched the ey of Jacobi's eves with vitriol, and left him blind and helpless in the mountain wilds. After months of suffering and Youdering, he man- aged to reach his homein Connecticut, which he had left twelve years before to go to the mines, At that time. he had left behind him a tantly con- sisting of a wife, a maiden sister, and two children, these latter a girl of seven, and another aged four years. As his family kept a little st. -s, from which they derived a comfortable living, Le did not send an money home at all until the fifth year, as his wife wrote that it was not necessary. At the end of the fifth year, he sent home a sum of ten thousand dollars, and had it deposited to his credit in the home bank, the deposit being made by his wife to his credit, Not long after this, he received the/intelligence that his entire family had been swept away by typhoid fever, and buried in the fa cemetery his informant being his only direct relative, a second cousin, named Milo Mitchell. . Shocked beyond expression, Jacobi had sent on » 5 » . J a 5 i —, = , . "y se * OS ae