Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 428 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

vi ) Fred —_ -—- _— = —— = —- — oe - ‘wrapped closely up, and was ready for new adventures as when, two hours before, he had taken his plunge to the surface of the frozen Delaware. Fred was a boy with aneye to business, The train no sooner stopped than he was out of it, note book and pencil in hand, and rapidly jot- ting down the interesting points of the accident. With an official brevity be questioned every- body, conductors, engineers, and passengers, forming a graphic story from the several state- ments, ** Get out, boy,” cried one of the conductors, angrily. ‘* What brings you bothering here? Away home with you, and get to bed. This is no place for boys.” ‘*T calculate I can do a man’s work,” replied Fred, coolly.. ‘‘Here is my warrant.” He threw open his coat and revealed his reporter’s badge. ‘I’m on duty, conductor, and I’d like to have from you a list of the names of the killed and wounded.” ‘*Go ask them, then,” answered the curt con- ductor, pointing to the row of dead bodies. ** They’ve got more time than I have to answer questions.” He turned shortly away. ‘‘All right!” cried Fred, independently, ‘ I'l] nail you, anyhow. If you want to know what I think of you, just look for your character in the Morning Star.” This threat had a decided effect on the gruff conductor. He had no wish to be shown up in bad light in an influential newspaper, id he turned back to I’red with an ill-natured apology. ‘*Pve got something else to do than to answer questions,” he declared. ‘** You haven’t got any more trains to smash just now; so I guess you can answer a few,” re- sam the independent boy. ‘‘If I am a boy I cnow my privileges, Mr. Conductor, and I’ve a right to be treated civilly.” ‘* Hope I haven’t hurt your feelings. Here's a list of the names of the dead. oy five of them. That’s not so bad, considering. I haven’t got the wounded, yet. ‘You can go ask them.” Fred hastened to do so. There were some twenty of the latter; a few of them very se- verely hurt, It was a distressing sight. The young reporter went among them full of boy- ish sympathy, yet full of business, There was something soothing in his voice and in the look of his pitying face, and the sufferers and the at- tending physicians readily answered his ques- tions. These were few, but to the point. One of the hurt men, however, with a broken leg, was gruff and surly. He was a man with a hard, 1arsh face, and a mouth that closed like a steel-trap—~a large-framed, strong-limbed personage. ‘*Don’t come pestering me,”. he snarled. ‘Isn't it enough to be lying here with a broken leg, without having bees buzzing around me? By Jupiter! if I don’t make these railroad companies sweat for this job, it’s queer!” ] only want an account of the accident for the newspaper,” explained Fred. ‘It will do you no harm to give your name.” ‘*It will do me no good,” snarled the man. “* Hang the newspapers! They're all a pack of prying impertinents. If you want to do some decenter work, I wish you’d look around for my wife and child. They were spilled out of the train, and I'd like to know where in thunder the woman is mooning when I’m laying here helpless.” ‘* Perhaps she is among the dead?” suggested Fred. ‘There are two women. Give me the name and I willsee. I have the list here.” ‘*’'You’re bound to screw it out of me, then,” answered the wounded man with an oath. ‘Brierly, then. Bob Brierly’s my name. I won’t cry much if you do have Mrs. Brierly’s name there, confound her!” ‘You haven’t the luek you are wishing for,” answered Fred, in disgust. ‘‘ She is not here.” ‘¢‘So much the worse. Look for her then. Hang her, to leave me here groaning like a sick baby!” Fred turned away. He had enough of Mr, Brierly. He At uci thought it was no more than his Christian duty to search for the lady in ques- tion. But his search proved in vain,” She was not among the dead or wounded, ant he failed to find her among those passengers who had been fortunate enough to escape unhurt, or with slight contusions, Some of these were grouped on the snow outside. Others were seated in warmed-up cars, waiting anxiously till a train should be brought down to take them up to the city. But though there were many ladies, none answered to the name of Mrs, Brierly. He returned to the wounded man with this in- formation. —_—— a LDL a ‘*She may have gone to Gloucester,” he sug- gested. ‘‘It is not a mile off, and several of the ep, pels have gone over.” ‘* Blast her, she is trying to run away from me!” cried the furious husband. ‘‘ She threat- ened it, hang her! If I don’t pay my lady up for this, set me down for a fool, that’s all. She hg to know by this time who she’s dealing with,” ‘* Very likely she does,” answered Fred, Severely. ‘‘She’d be a fool if she don’t run away from such abrute. Andif I meet her, Pll tell her so.” He turned and walked angrily away, leaving the irate husband to curse growlingly to him- self. “Got your points?” asked the conductor, as Fred appeared outside. ‘All down,” replied the boy, depositing his note-book in an inside pocket, and’ buttoning his overcoat. ‘‘ Now what’s the show for Cam- den? I must get there in short meter.” “Don’t know, I’ve sent fora train to take off the passengers. May be here in five minutes, or in an hour.” ‘*Or two hours. Can’t take the chances, I'll foot it over. It isn’t more than four miles.” * You'll find it a heavy drag through the snow. Best wait.” ‘* It isn’t more than three inches on a level, Duty is duty. Guess [ll try it.” Buttoning his overcoat to his throat, and drawing on his fur-lined gloves, Fred dashed bravely away, through the night and the snow. The moon was now shining clearly, lighting up the landscape, and displaying the railroad tracks like two black lines in a sea of white. He followed the track as the straightest road to the city. The cold wind at times made his face tingle, but he trudged bravely on, rather enjoying it than otherwise. A wade through the snow, and a cold air bath, were a frolic to his young blood. Here and there heavy drifts crossed tho track, needing some deep wading, but in other places the snow was blown clean away, and he mace good progress, He had advanced something over two miles in this way, when scattered houses in the outskirts of the city began to appear. In some tew of them lights were visible. The night had now nearly passed. A faint glimmer on the eastern horizon showed that day was approach- ing. These lighted houses were probably those of early laborers. *“[t’s fun to me,” declared Fred, ‘* but there’s some that might not enjoy it. That Brierly’s wife, forinstance. What has become of the wo- man?” He stopped in his soliloquy as something ahead caught his eye. It was a dark object, plainly outlined against a bank of the white snow. Fred eyed it curiously as he came nearer. ‘** About the size and sha he said to himself. ‘Is i out in this wild night?” A few minutes brought him close to the ob- ject in question. The moonlight shone brightly upon it. A loud exclamation broke from his lips. re By Heaven, it is a woman!” he cried. ** Some poor thing caught out in the snow, and frozen, And what’s that? Bless me, if she isn’t got a baby, wrapped up in her shaw].” It did not take the boy long to leap from the track to the wayside snow-bank against which the woman had fallen. She was apparently in- sensible, but whether dead or not he could not tell. Her face felt warm to his hand. He shouted sternly in her ear, shaking her at the same time. ‘*Come, rouse up! What are you doing here? Do you want to freeze stiff?” The woman opened her eyes, and a groan sounded from her lips, as a look like that of a frightened deer came upon her face. ** Who is that?” she asked, in faint, trembling accents. ‘Is it you, Robert?” ‘No, but it’s me, Fred. Come, stir your- self. You'll be a dead woman here in five min- utes more.” The woman, with an effort, struggled to her feet, with Fred’s help. He could see that she was young and very pretty. She clasped the babe moro closely to her breast. ‘*T Jay down exhausted,” she murmured, ‘*‘ Are you sure I am safe? That I am not pur- sued?” ‘* Who is to pursue you?” he asked, curiously. “Did you come from the wrecked train? Are you Mrs. Brierly?” ‘** Ah!” she cried, with a scared look, breaking from him, and staggering onward. ‘‘ You know of a human being,” some poor creature eee + ee Flyer, the Reporter Detective. a on ee os "© 3 re —- me! ‘You have been sent after me! There is no escape from that brute, that fiend!” ‘* And you have come all the way here from the train, running away from him? He must be a rough hound, to make a woman run from him in such a night as this, I am your friend, Mrs. Brierly. I will help you if [ can. And the first thing is to hunt a fire. You're not fit to stand this weather. And the baby?’ ‘*'The baby is warm, I keep it warm.” ‘‘Come with me. Here is a lit-up house not far ahead. The folks are astir there.” Partly supporting her he helped her stagger- ing steps onward. Exhausted, and partly be- fenrabert with the cold, she had wandered from the track, and fallen on the snow-bank in dc- spair. But for Fred’s opportune arrival she would have been quickly frozen to death. He had come just in time to save her life. A loud and peremptory rat-tat on the door of the house which they had reached, and it was opened by an old woman, who peered cautiously out. red quickly explained what had occurred. He had found the woman and child freezing. He had not a minute to spare. Would the gocd yeople take care of them for him? He would be ack to-morrow, and see that they were paid for their trouble,” ‘Pay, boy? Who wants pay for bringing the dead to life? Fetch the poor soul right in, I have a good fire, and will soon thaw her out. Quick, fetch her in.” ‘* Keep quiet here, and he will not find you,” whispered Fred to the fugitive, as he aided her in. ‘* Don’t tell these folks who you are. I will try and come back to-morrow.” Seeing that she was nicely placed before a warm fire, he hastily bade good-by and started out, In something over a half-hour afterward he burst briskly into the room at the ferry-house. ‘*Here [ am with my report,” he cried. ‘What are the chances of going over?” ‘Jump for the boat, then. The chains are thrown off, and she’ll be out in two minutes.” CHAPTER IIT. FRED CONTRADICTS THE STAR, “Here youare! Here’s yer Morning Star! Terrible accident! Fred Flyer, the young re- porter, drowned in the ice! Have a Star, sir? All the news!” ** Drowned in the ice? me! How was that?” ‘Crossing the Delaware on the ice arter news. Went under. Here it all is. Have a StarP” The old gentleman eagerly bought one, anx- ious for the details of the ac¢ident. ‘* Pll have one, too,” exclaimed a well-grown boy, who was hurrying up from Market street wharf, There was a queer look on his face as he bought the paper and hastily turned to the item of news. It was, in fact, Fred Flyer himself, just landed from a ferry-boat which had come into the Market street ferry, after a sharp fight with the ice. It was an odd welcome to be met with a news- paper report of his own death. Fred perused it with much interest, while a gay laugh broke from his lips. ‘* Bless my eyes, if this isn’t rich! Here’s the whole story; how I went under the ice and never come up again, Went down like a soldier in the line of duty. « And aneat obituary notice, too, telling who | am, and what a fine chap I’ve always been. It’s a queer thing that a fellow’s always got to die before he wants to find out his virtues. Never heard them brag me up this way at the office.” e folded up the paper with a queer feeling, as if he had indeed in some way died, without knowing it, and had been resurrected. ‘* How did they get this bit of news? Ah! I Mercy, you don’t tell know. It’s that croaking old waterman. The fool has gone and reported me drowned at the office. Ill shoot right up there and give them a sight of my ghost. Do me good if scare Old Crusty a bit.” People stopped to look at Fred as he made his way rapidly up the street. They thought he must have seen something very funny, for his face was wreathed in smiles, while every now and then he broke out into a loud laugh. ‘Tf it isn’t the richest job yet, I'll sell out!” he declared, slapping his knee in amusement. ‘‘A chap walking to his own funeral, with his obituary notice in his pocket. Hope Pll scare some of the boys blue.” In a few minutes afterward he broke into the editorial office of the Morning Star, It was filed with employees of the paper, engaged in could only ee Oe OM ae eee eee ee ee ee 8 f, ’ z “ \e , 7 ay ee . @ icbooks.com