Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 428 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

2 ferry-boat can’t travel ’count of the ice, and the same time the ice is got too much drift in it to go afoot? Ye’d best go home, little un, and go to bed.” ** Not much, if the court knows herself.” It was an old waterman who was thus giving the benefit of his advice to the determined lad. The night was indeed a wild one. Snow had { fallen all day long, covering the ground with a ‘ six-inch-deep blanket. The clouds had now broken, and the moon shone through their flying rack upon the surface of the wide river. It was a Bina’, white, glistening sheet of snow-covered ice. But the old boatman knew that it was ‘treacherous, The ice had been drifting when the snow began, and no one could besure thatit was now fastened, “What ails ye, anyhow? Does yer folks live tother side? Come with me, and I'll give ye a shake-down fur the night. I wouldn’t leave & alog out in sich weather.” ** Much obliged,” answered theboy. ‘ It isn’t that, though. I live on this side, but I’ve got ‘business on the other.” “* Bizness? There’s cases where all bizness must stop short of a funeral.” ‘“Tt’s worse than a dozen funerals,” answered the boy. ‘* There’s two locomotives butted to- gether across the river, and mercy knows how many folks are killed. The telegraph wires are «lown, and the only way to get the news is to cross over,” ““And what d’ye want with the news? You kin read it all in the morning papers.” ‘*Calculate not then, except I make a break. (’m reporter for the Morning Star, old man. I’m on duty, I am. Ain’t going to let any other paper get ahead of the Star, you bet. We don’t stop for trifle; at our office,” “A reporter, eh? Bless my eyes! <A boy like you? Well, you'll have to back water this time, ihat’s dead sure— _ Hillo, youngster, what are you up to? Come back, you risky young hound!” The old chap sprung forward after the boy, who had made a quick dart to the end of the pier upon which they stood. He was too late for the agile youth. wering himself by his hands, he had dropped onto the icy surface of (26 river ere the waterman could reach the pier lors. The ice proved strong enough to bear him, amd he quickly hastened out, while the old man gazed af ter him in angry terror. **Come back, you lunatic!” he shouted. ‘‘ It’s tight here, but you'll be adrift afore you’re quarter way out. Come back, I say.” ‘‘Tm going to take the chances,” cried the boy, as he waded through the unbroken snow- sueet that covered theice. ‘ If I gounder it will be in the line of duty, It’s neck or nothing at our Office. If you don’t see a report of the rail- road break-up in to-morrow’s Star, you may ‘mow I’ve gone under, You can report at the office that Fred Flyer went down like a man, ‘with his colors flying.” He pushed forward as he spoke. The water- man continued to remonstrate, but he received no answer, He stood on the pier, wistfully watching the aliminutive form which grew smaller with every step. A gust of wind swept down the stream raising the snow in drifts, and hiding the boy from sight. , ‘By Davy Jones, he’s gone! No, there he is again. Ha! he’s in the drift, now. The ice is ‘tipping with him, Down goes the little fool! Me's upagain! He’s up and off! Brave fellow! “Te’ll cross yet! No, no, he’s under! By the Lord, the boy’s drowned, and me standing here like a helpless old idiot!” The waterman strained his eyes but could catch no glimpse of the lad again. He had seen ‘him suddenly sink and disappear, and though he «continued to look for five minutes more, no trace of the foolhardy boy was visible. The old man turned sadly away. **One more swallowed up by the treacherous river,” he muttered. ‘‘ The headstrong little rascal was bent on drowning hisself, Why didn’t i srab for him aminutesooner? I’m half afeard [ yras a bit to blame,” Ile walked slowly up the wharves, satisfied that he had seen the last of the reckless youth. The wind sighed, as if in a requiera over the rished lad, and the moon hid its shining face behind the clouds. He was a little too soon. The boy was yet far from being drowned. As he continued his journey over the ice-bridged stream he found the ice to be firmly compacted beneath the smooth sheet of snow, but very rough, so that he stum- ‘bled and fell more than once ere he was far out. _As he proceeded, ominous cracks met his ear, ‘while the ice swayed and bent under his weight. At length a piece suddenly yielded beneath him. Fred Fly mmm ee ee ee between his clinched lips. - The waterman was right. He had crossed the region of firm ice and was among the drifting blocks, A quick spring brought him to the center of the block, it floated slowly on, carrying him down the river. The wind blew coldly past, cut- ting his face with the tingling snow-drift. TF or- tunately he was well gloved and warmly clothed. -le set his lips with vigorous resolution, and fooked ahead for chances. The block on which he was, floated on, grind- ing against other floating masscs. There was but one thing for it. Fred sprung forward, leaping from mass to mass as they touched, or sometimes over narrow lanes of black water, This was a perilous procedure. One block, to whose edge he had leaped, bent far below the water. He would have been hurled into the stream had he not flung himself forward at full length. The balance being restored, the mass of ice slowly righted itself. This was the disappearance which the water- man had seen. The boy continued to lie at full length, waiting for chances. The block, too small for his weight, settled until his clothes were drenched with the ice-cold water of the river. It floated on through an open space for several minutes, when it brought up against a much larger cake. This was the opportunity for which Fred had waited. He was on his feet in a flash, and sprung agilely from the ice-block as it yielded beneath him, lighting erect on the adjoining cake. ‘‘A mighty narrow squeak,” he muttered looking back. ‘‘ And I’m as wet as a drowne rat, and that wind cuts like a knife. IJ’ll freeze stiff if I don’t keep stirring.” The wind blew strongly down the center of the stream, carrying the snow in blinding drifts with it. It was this that had hindered the wa- terman from again catching sight of the daring boy. The moon was hid now behind a drifting cloud. The snow in the air darkened the whole atmosphere. It was now neck or nothing in- deed. Fred plunged blindly forward, knowing that he would freeze if he paused in his wet clothes. The loose cakes were generally wide and closely compacted, so that he made his way on- ward in comparative safety. Once, however, a block dipped suddenly beneath him, and shot him helplessly into. the black running water. It was a perilous instant. He grasj;.d the edge of the ice-block, Fortunately its surface was rough, and offered a hold to his fingers. He drew himself out of the water onto the yielding mass. Creeping to its center, he rose to his feet, the water streaming from his clothes, ‘‘That point’s settled, anyhow,” he declared ‘*T can’t be wetter. But if I don’t want to turn into an icicle I must drive on.” Onward he went. A few more narrow escapes and his feet struck firm ice. He took off his cap and waved it in the air. ‘*Hurrah!” he shouted. ‘‘Struck the solid stuff again, and all’s glorious!” He had come far over the icy Delaware, and the wharves of Camden were not far distant. He ran hastily onward, as fast as the snow would paras eager to get out of the freezing wind. In five minutes more he was close to the Jersey shore. In ten minutes he had reached the end of a pier, and was clambering up the wharf. logs by the aid of protruding spikes. The next minute he stood erect and safe on shore! The perilous passage had been made! Inside a ferry-house on the Camden side a group of men was gathered around a huge stove, whose reddened sides sent a flood of warmth into the room. They were talking about the chances. of taking 4 ferry-boat over the river. The majority shook their heads is ae but the principal spokesman of the party firmly declared: ‘*Tt’s got to be done. The ice is fast, except in a narrow streak in the center. We can cut a lane through it, and smash the floating blocks. If it only tightens, which I think it will with this wind, a safe channel can be made,” ** What's that?” cried another, as a loud, hasty knock came upon the door. ‘*Go and see who’s there.” The rap was impatiently repeated ere the door could be opened. There was revealed a boyish figure, who ran hastily in, his teeth chattering with the cold. ‘*Guess, you won’t grudge me an ounce of that fire,” he exclaimed, rushing forward into the enliveffing warmth. ‘*Hillo! What does this mean?’ cried the ferry-agent. ‘‘ Why, the boy’s coated in ice! He’s half-frozen into a mummy! Where have er, the Reporter Detective. ——_———— — ae - - Cis TAs GM Fe rou been, little chap? Put yourself in this chair. lumbled overb« ard: eh? ‘* You bet,’”’ answered Fred, between his chat- tering teeth. ‘Tumbled overboard where?’ queried an- other. ‘‘The river is frozen,” ‘* It is loose in the mlddle,” answered Fred. ** And suppose it is?” : ** That's Where I went in.” " Why, you young hound, you don’t mean to say you’ve been out to the middle of the river?” ‘““Tve been clear across it,” answered Fred, proudly. ‘‘I took it on foot, and I had a float- ing and dipping old time in the middle. You bet that fire smells good!” The men were locking at him in doubt, sur- prise, and admiration. it appeared impossible, yet the boy did not seem to be lying or brag- ging. ‘You are not in earnest? cried the ferry- master. ‘*Ain’t you stopped running your old boats?” asked Fred, querulously. ‘ ii faa business on this side, and there ‘was no way but to foot it. Guess [m getting thawed out now. Won't some of you help me off with my coat and gloves? Want to get my rigging dried.” A number of willing hands aided the boy in this effort. His clothes were taken from ie until he was nearly undressed. They were hun near the stove to dry, while he curled himsel cosily in his chair, before the grateful heat. They looked at him with interest and admira- tion. The boy had a handsome face full of resolution. His eyes had lost none of their flash in the danger he had faced. He was well-built, .and gave evidence of considerable strength, in his well-knit limbs and muscles. In age he might have been seventeen or eighteen. ‘* Hope those duds won’t ke long drying,” he said. ‘'I must get into them again and ke off,” ** Off where?” ‘Off to see about the railroad collision. That’s what brought me over here. I’m re- erpha for the Morning Star. We folks don’t et any trifle stop us when we’re after news,” **’'You a reporter?” ** Just so. Young but spry, I am.” rT . ? : ; But the wires are down. It’s five miles out. No satisfactory report is in yet.” ‘* There'll be engines running out?” “ ‘* Very likely.” ‘Then I’m after them, as soon as I’m dried. And what’s the chance to get back to the city without wading? Are you going to keep your boats froze up?” ‘* We will make a break to get across early to- morrow.” ‘**Book me then for the first boat. Us Star boys don’t hang fire when there’s news afloat.” CHAPTER II. A RAILROAD SMASH-UP, It was the old story over again. Two trains had tried to pass each other on the same track, with the usual result of Rees scrap-iron of the engines and kindling-wood of the cars, The age om train had been delayed by snow-drifts on the track. The outgoing train had pushed on, thinking that the other would lay over at a_ way station, The blinding snow-drift had kept their head-lights concealed until it was too late to check their speed. Suddenly each engineer saw, rushing out of the gloom of night and snow flurry, a monster with a flaming eye, A quick reversal of the levers; an application of the air-brakes; a leap for life of engineers and firemen; and then the two monsters met. A shock like the discharge of a park of artillery; a grinding and roaring and hissing of steam; successive shocks and splintering of wood, as car was heaped on car; then, most terrible ofall, the cries, screams, and groans of human beings, hurled suddenly from vigorous health into the agony of gaping wounds, or into the arms of death. Such was the story of the collision. The inhabitants of the neighboring town of Gloucester, who rushed to the scene, gazed upon a. frightful spectacle. A row of the mangled dead lay on the white surface of the snow, lit up by the lurid glow of a blazing car, which had been kindled by an overturned stove. The wounded were being carried into a palace car, which had escaped damage, where they were made as comfortable as possible. Word of the accident had been telegraphed with all haste from Gloucester, with a demand for surgeons. But the frozen snow had broken the wires, and now all further word was cut off. Two hours afterward a wrecking-train came down, with Fred Flyer for one of its passengers. He was thoroughly dried, warmed through, 900 7 @ S : : ,*