Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 428 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

4 various duties. All looked up at the loud slam which Fred gave the door, and there was in- stantly a hasty springing to their feet, coin Yor of pens, paper and scissors, and a chorus of lou exclamations. One or two nervous fellows turned white and started for the door. ‘* Here’s your ghost!” cried Fred, cheerily. ‘‘Hred! Fred Flyer! The deuce! Can’t be you was seen dead!” were the cries that broke from the lips of the startled editors. ‘¢ Guess next time you’d best wait till a chap’s lead before you order his coffin. Hope you didn’t think Fred Flyer was going to be drowned like a rat? Not much.” ‘¢ Then what ailed that old jackanapes, to bring such news tothe office?” exclaimed the chief editor, angrily. ‘‘T ain’t responsible,” answered Fred, ‘‘ Any- how, you’ve had an item of news; and lve found out what sort of achaplam, Got it all here in print, in my pocket. You can’t go back on it. ou can put out another item, telling how I came to life again. Tl give you the story. Had a narrow slip-up, you bet. But that ain’t to the point. DPve got what I went for. Been over and seen the smash-up. Got full report here. List cf dead and wounded. Ahead of any other paper. Get out an extra, ee on. Ought to be on the street in half an hour. Takes the Star to discount them slow coaches,” Ere he had half-finished the chief editor had sprung forward and snatched the note-book from his hand. ‘‘Tirst-class, Fred. You're a brick. Good as ten dead men, hang me if you ain’t. Here, Joe, Harry, be alive. Have this set up, instanter. Hurry it up. Run off an extra with lightning speed. Why, the boy is worth his weight in gold.” There was a quick rush from the office in dif- ferent directions, a momentary excitement, then all settled down again. ‘‘You’ll find it all in good shape,” remarked Fred, ‘* I wrote it out crossing the ferry. Just put in an item that I’ve come to life again. [ll give you the particulars for to-morrow’s paper. And now I must streak out for home, want some breakfast, and a trifle of sleep. And I want to get home before they get the front door hung in black. I’m afraid the folks will hear of that confounded item of news. Id like to punch the head of the old hunks that gave it to ou. * He was off like a flash, leaving the inmates of the office to follow him with admiring eyes, and to talk over his good points while he was hurry- in cheerily along the street. CHAPTER IV. THE FLOWER OF THE FAMILY AT HOME, FrREp’s domicile was at a considerable dis- tance from the office, but his rapid walk soon brought him to it, and he broke into the house with a cheery laugh and a hearty welcome that startled the inmates of the room, His father and mother, and a small group of prothers and sisters, were seated around, look- ing dismally gloomy, as Fred burst in amnOne them. They sprung up with cries of alarm an gladness, ‘‘ Mercy on us, what’s this?” cried the mother. ‘‘Tt’s the boy himself, and that’s all a con- founded lie, as I said it was,” declared the fath- er, with an I-told-you-so air. ls ‘You've seen that rascally paper, then?” de- manded Fred. ‘*‘ Hoped I'd get home first, but had to stop at the office. I ain’t gone under yet, and ain’t going under soon, nary time.” The whole group had now gathered around him, the mother clasping him to her breast, with tears in her eyes, while one of his younger brothers embraced Fred’s leg, and howled in sympathy. ‘“‘Tf you’d only give up that business,” said the weeping mother. ‘‘ You don’t know how we were frightened. I’m sure you'll be killed yet.” ‘‘- You take too big risks, boy,” grumbled the father. ‘‘ There’s no sort of reason in it,” ‘‘T’m sound now, anyhow,” answered Fred, cheerily. ‘‘ And I won’t try the river again on floating ice, if all Jersey blows up, I promise that. And now, mother, what have you got to eat? I’m as hungryasa wolf. I suppose you’ve saved me a bite.” “That I have, though I was afraid you'd never be hereagain toeat it. It will bea month before I get over the start that popes gave me. Get off your overcoat, Fred. Vl have your breakfast ready in a minute. I hope I'll never jhave such a fright again.” Fred Flycr, the Reporter Detective. She was in a busy bustle as she spoke, setting Fred’s warmed-up breakfast on the table, and pouring him out a cup of scalding-hot coffee. She could not keep her eyes off him as she did SO. ‘To think it was all a false alarm, and that I’ve got my Fred again! Thank the Lord for His mercies!” Meanwhile brothers and sisters had been eager- ly helping Fred off with his coat, hat and gloves, while the father sat in a corner, growling to himself, yet looking at his recovered son with a deep satisfaction in the corners of his eyes. ‘*That’s the stuff,” cried Fred, as he took a oat sip of the hot coffee. ‘‘ Vd have given a gold mine for that last night, when the wind was cutting me lilzo a Imite. What else have you got? Buckwhcat cakes and sausage, Could- n’t suit me better, nohow.”. His breakfast, however, was not made in as much peace as he would have preferred, for he was besieged with a hundred questions, which he had to answer between the mouthfuls, ‘* Here, drop all that,” he cried, impatiently. ‘Pll starve if you don’t stop. Wait till I’m through and I'll give you the whole story.” And he resolutely refused to answer another question until he had finished a hearty meal. Then he seated himself before the stove, and gave to his excited and admiring auditors the whole story, from the time the news of the acci- dent had reached the office until his return to the city, with a full report of the occurrence. There were starting eyes and shuddering breaths as he told the tale of his narrow escape from drowning, and his mother again excitedly clasp- ed him in her arms, as if to make sure that she indeed had him safe. The story of his return to the city, of the struggle of the ferry-boat with the ice, the grrinding and heaving, the scudding and scrap- ing, and the long and fierce fight ere MERGE was accomplished, and the wharves of Philadel- em reached, was little less exciting to the spell- und auditors. And the remaining episode, the Mrs, Brierly rescue, and her flight iene the storm from her brutal husband, capped the climax. Never had a story-teller such an excited and interested audience. ‘* There, that’s about all,” exclaimed Fred, at last. ‘‘ Now fora snooze, for lve got to strike for Camden again, to see about the poor wo- man— Do you hear that?” he continued, as a cry arose in the street, ‘‘ Extra Morning Star! There’s the whole story of the smash-up, now. And if you want to find out if I’m alive or not, just read that, I don’t want tofind out, for Pm sure of it now. Don’t disturb me before noon, for ’m about fagged out.” Fred marched off up-stairs to bed, leaving the family below to talk over the deeds of their young hero, and to congratulate themselves on aving such a brave fellow as Fred as son and brother. ‘‘T'm going to be a reporter, too, when I grow up,” declared an ambitious ten-year-old. ‘* And I’m going to wade across the ice, and jump through the fire after news, just like our Pred. See if I don’t!” ‘‘ Crow ahead, little chap,” said the father, taking him on his knee, ‘‘ It doesn’t cost any- thing to crow, and I guess you’ve the making of a fine fellow. But Fred’s a terror of a boy, and no mistake.” It was full noon ere Fred awoke and made his way down-stairs, still looking sleepy. But a souse of head and hands in cold water, and a good dinner made him fully himself again, and buttoning himself up warm, he started out into the sharp, wintry day, bound for Camden, ‘*Take care you don’t run any risks to-day,” warned his mother at the door. ‘‘If the river isn’t right, don’t you cross.” ‘* All right, mother,” answered Fred, cheerily, as he kissed her good-by. ‘‘I caleulate last night’s business was enough of the kind for one day. I won’t try it on again.” ae Yet what he did try seemed almost as dan- gerous. The ferry-boat had no easy job in cross- ing. It had made a lane through the solid ice, but all the ice in the middle of the river was loose and floating, and the huge cakes surged up against the boat as if they would break through her stanch sides. The grinding, ripping and rending was frightful, and all Tecathed more freely when they had passed the floating rack. An hour had passed ere the battered boat drew into the slip at Camden. Fred hastened back through the town. He had marked the location of the house in which he had left Mrs. Brierly, and made the best of his way thither. The door opened quickly to his knock, and the old woman, whom he had seen the previous: night, reappeared. ‘‘How d’ye do? Come in!” she exclaimed. ‘* The poor lady wants to see you.” Mrs. Brierly broke into the passage ere Fred could reach the room, and rushed excitedly to- ward him, with a face still marked by fright. ‘Ts all right?” she eagerly demanded, ‘ Has: he found out where I am?” ‘*Calculate not,” answered Fred, cheerily, as. he pushed in, CHAPTER V. FRED GETS AN IDEA, “STRANGE SEQUEL TO THE TERRIBLE RAIL- ROAD ACCIDENT! ‘“ DISAPPEARANCE OF THE WIFE A D CHILD OF THE HON, ROBERT BRIERLY, OF MONTANA! ‘*This honorable gentleman, who, as our readers: will remember, was among the wounded by the col- lision, is in sore distress about his wife and child, who have not been seen since the night of the oc- currence, ‘They were in the palace-car, which he had left just before the collision for the smoking-car. None of the inmates of the car were injured, and all are accounted for with the exception of Mrs. Brierly.. It is feared that the poor woman, who is said to be rather feeble-minded, wandered off in her terror, and became lost in the snow-drifts of that terrible night. A close search for the missing lady is being made, No trace of her has yet been found, but she cannot. long remain ae The distress of the bereaved husband in his terrible loss is pitiable to behold, and it is sincerely to be hoped that nothing serious may have happened to her.”’ ‘Distress of the old boy!” cried Fred, as he angrily folded up the newspaper containing this.announcement. ‘‘If that ain’t taffy, then I don’t know what taffy is. I thought that: chap was a barking dog, but he’s worse than that. He’s a snake in the grass. If he ain’t, been buttering that reporter’s brains, then I’m a pene Bet you high he couldn’t put no such stuff off on this coon, nary time!” This newspaper item appeared on the day after his journey to Camden, to visit Mrs. Brierly. On that occasion the poor lady, who was terribly in dread of her savage husband,, had given Fred a sketch of her life which stirred up the impulsive lad to warm sym- weirs ‘t He’s a hog, that’s what he is!” cried Fred, on hearing her story. ‘‘ And I’m the chap that would like to tell him so, only that he’s go” his leg broke. I don’t want no odds of that sort. Don’t believe in taking advantage of a man with a broken leg. But, I ain’t going to stand by and see you swallowed up, nowhow.” ‘‘'You cannot imagine what a life I’ve led,” groaned the poor wife, whose pretty, girlish face was full of distress. ‘‘ He oe treated me shamefully. And it is all because I will not consent to surrender my fortune to him.” ‘*T wouldn't give the galoot a red cent, if I was you,” protested Fred, warmly. ‘‘ Where’s his own money? WHe’s an honorable, and that. sort ought to have cash.” ‘* He has spent it all in politics,” answered the wife. ‘‘He would spend mine, too, only my father on his death-bed made me promise not to give him a penny tosquancer. I have refused to do so, and that is the trouble.” ‘But what makes you run away? He can’t et it if you keep stiff on that figure. °’Tain’t in the law to make you pony over.” ‘*'You don’t know what a fiend he is,” was the moaning reply. ‘He has led me a terrible life. But, thatis not all. He has brought me East for a purpose. He has threatened me with something dreadful. I know that he has de- vised some brutal scheme to force money from me. What it is, I know not, but the railroad accident was a godsend tome. It gave mea chance to escape.” Fred looked at her with some contempt at her weakness. He was too bold and daring himself to appreciate sucha feeling. And he knew too little of life to understand the power a brutal husband might have over a weak wife. His lip curled slightly, but he said nothing. ‘ There are cases where a wise manor a shrewd boy deems it judicious to hold his tongue. ‘‘ What is to become of me!” she moaned, wringing her hands in distress. “I know no one here, I have scarcely any money. He will set all the officers of the law on my track. I cannot escape him! Oh, I know I cannot es- cape him! y child! my child!” she exclaimed, catching up her little daughter in her arms, ‘‘ what is to become of us? We have no hope, no safety from your terrible father!” Fred looked at her, with a curl in his lip and a flash in his eye, ‘* Just you keep up your spirits, ma’am,” he 1cboo