Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 428 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

said. ‘I’ve took this job in tow, and I ain't oing back on it. He’s got to discount Fred ayer before he snatches you, and that ain’t no baby’s job. Only you keep a stiff upper lip, and see if we don’t settle Mr. Bob Brierly’s hash ret,’ ‘* You!” she cried, her eyes opening wide in mingled dread and hope, ‘‘Oh, no! You would only be getting yourself into trouble. I could never, never consent tothat. You do not know what kind of a man my husband is.” ‘** And he don’t know what sort of a boy Lam,” answered Fred, stolidly. ‘‘ But he’s going to find out, if he runs afoul of me, now you bet. I don’t want no better fun than to astonish Mr, Brierly. Just you leave me alone, and see if I don’t take the starch out of him!” Mrs. Brierly’s eyes opened wide in hope and admiration, Fred was a revelation to her. She had never seen a boy of that kind before. Brought up in the Far West, she knew little of city life, and had never come across a genuine, wide-awake, high-pressure city boy, sharp as a steel-trap, and ready to take anything in hand, from selling peanuts to running a locomotive, She continued to look at her bright and brisk young friend as one might look at a leopard ina menagerie, ‘‘ But what can you do?’ she queried, with a voice full of doubt. **T don’t know,” answered Fred. ‘‘ But some- thing’s got to be done, and that spry. Just let me get my working cap on, and [ll hit on some- thing. Sia can’t stay here, that’s flat. I don’t know these people, and ain’t going to trust them. Leave italltome. I’ve got half an idea in my head. Only you keep cool and quiet, and Pll drop things around all right afore a crow could ‘caw !” Fred seized his hat and made for the door. ‘‘ Where are you going?” she cried in alarm, “‘T am afraid to stay here. Something may happen. You do not know how terrified I am.” ** Don’t see as there’s anything to be skeered at just now,” answered Fred, shortly. ‘Just you keep cool, Mrs. Brierly. If you’re going to be skittish, you’d spoil the best game as was ever gotup. If you’re going to play that hand then [ll throw up the cards instanter.” ‘*Oh, no, no! You must not desert me!” ‘Then you mustn’t play the baby. If I’m roing to help you you've got to oe me, Old Nick couldn’t do nothing with his hands tied, and if youre laying out to tie mine it’s all up. Now just keep up your heart, Mrs. Brierly, and trust a boy that don’t turn back for nothing, You'll see me ag’in to-morrow.” Fred dived out of the house like a shot. He had enough of that sort of women for the pres- ent, «Good gracious!” he growled, ‘‘ I wouldn't ive a cent a cart-load for folks without a back- one, A chap gets clear wilted down talking to some folks. akes the starch out of you like rain does out of a standing collar,” Off to the ferry he dashed, stopping only to ick up a Camden item or twoin his way. He ee an idea in his head, but Fred always kept one eye open for business. No item of news ever escaped his sharp eyes. The ferry-boat had now made a definite channel through the ice, and crossing had become less difficult. They were making their regular trips. Within an hour Fred was at the office of the Morning Star. He delivered what items of news he had picked up, and was about to take his departure, when he was called by the chief editor. ‘* See here, Fred,” said the latter, in his brisk, sharp way. ‘How about this item of news that’s just come in? There’s a woman and a baby missing from the railroad smash-up. How comes it you didn’t pick that up, eh? You've let the Telegraph getin a point ahead of us.” ‘“S pose it bas,” answered Fred quickly. **Can’t help it if they pick up some of our spilt crumbs, Id look hoggish if we snapped up everything.” ‘T don’t begrudge them the cold seraps of the news,” laughed the editor. ‘ But this is your job, boy. I want you to go for that woman, There’s a mystery here, and that’s what the dear public wants. Pick hem up, and bring her in, if it?s in the wood.” ‘* All right,” answered Fred, evasively. ‘* Pll give you an item before long. Jt will bea scorching one, too. Hope you won't be afraid to publis it.” a ** The Star is afraid of nothing,” rejoined the editor. ‘‘ What is it, Fred? You know some- thing about this affair?” “Pve got a point about the Honorable Bob Brierly,” replied Fred. ‘‘Ho’s a galoot, right Fred Flyer, the Reporter Detective. 5 i itt lil —— out from theshoulder, I’m going to tickle him, through the Star, if yowll put it in.” ‘* Not too sharp, fred. He may tickle us in return, through the courts, Come, what have you hit on?” “It is not in shape yet,” answered Fred, shortly. ‘‘ Ain’t going to leak till it’s all ready to come out. Anything more, Mr. Brace?” ‘* No,” answered the editor, a little angrily. Fred walked out. He had nothing more to say, and did not think it advisable to keep up the conversation. As for letting his secret get afloat in the editorial room, he was too sharp for that, CHAPTER VI, THE YOUNG REPORTER’S LITTLE GAME, AN hour afterward the young reporter was at home. He found his mother busy in the mysteries of cooking. Supper was frying and hissing away on the stove, while the small fry of the house were looking hungrily on, and taking in the appetizing smell. ‘* Mother,” cried Fred, bustling in, ‘‘ where does Mrs. Maloney live?” ‘*Mrs. Maloney? The Irish washerwoman? Ms, under the sun does the boy want with er? ‘*To know where she lives,” answered Fred, quietly. ‘But what do you want to know where she lives for?” ‘So that I can ffnd the house when I go there.” ‘*And what in the world do you want with Mrs. Maloney’s house?” ‘* To see Mrs. Maloney.” The mother turned and made a clip with her cooking-fork at the vexing boy, who was as grave as a judge, ** You haven’t told me where Mrs. Maloney lives,” he repeated. « And I don’t think I will tell you very soon,” she answered, sharply. ‘‘ It is something new for Fred Flyer to answer his old mother with impudence. I didn’t expect it of my son.” ‘** Impudence, mother? But you might tell me where Mrs. Maloney lives,” ** You are not going to get anything washed, are you?” ‘* It’s a business secret, mother. want me to tell business secrets?’ ‘*P’m sure I never told any of your secrets, red. One would think you were afraid of me,” You don’t ‘There are too many ears about,” answered | Fred. Mrs. Flyer, who was grown very curious about her son’s secret, turned and drove the small fry from the room, as one might drive a brood of chickens, Holding the door of the room into which she had driven them she turned to Fred, ‘Now, my son. Quick, while I keep them out.” ‘You remember, mother, what I -told you about the poor lady with the baby that fell down in the snow?” ‘* Yes, yes!” eagerly. ‘Don’t speak of that on any account. No- body must know of it,” ‘Wild horses couldn’t draw it from me,” an- swered the good woman, ‘* You know there is nobody like me in keeping a secret. But why do you ask, Fred? There is something behind all this.” ‘}'Yes,” answered Fred. ‘¢ What is it, my son?” ‘Where does Mrs. Maloney live?” Mrs. Flyer released her hold of the door with the angry intention of shaking the annoying boy. There came a very unexpected result, The small brood fastened within the room had been heaped three deep against the door, eager to hear something of the mysterious conver- sation. The released latch left the door loose, Open it flew witha splurge, and out came the inmates of the room ina volley, In a moment the floor at Mrs. Flyer’s feet was eovered with a writhing heap of lees and arms, from which came a shrill chorus of the “music of the houschold,” that would have shamed a locomotive-whistle. That episode of course capped the climax, and Fred soon escaped from the Babel of slaps, shrieks and adjurations into the street, in pos- session of the number of Misthress Maloney’s modest little down-town residence to which he bent his way, and soon was interviewing the lady of the house. ‘Faix, an’ ’m not quite distitute o’ rooms althegither and intirely,” declared Mrs. Malo- ney, in answer to the young reporter’s in- quiries, fa « —— Mrs. Maloney was a native of the green island of Erin. You only wanted a look at her nose, or an echo from her rich brogue to make sure of that. Yetshe was not wanting in good looks, while a warm heart seemed imprinted on ery line of her broad face, ‘It won’t be for long, Mrs. Maloney. The lady only wants a hiding-place for a short time,” ‘*She kin stay till doomsday, if she’s a mind. An’ Pll only ax her to pay fur the trifle of vit- tels she ates, and maybe a bit to the back o’ it fur extry trouble and soap. I ain’t forgot the good friend your mother’s been to meself, me boy. An’ the poor crayter in diffikilty, too. What mought she want to be hidin’ for, if it’s no sacret?” ‘* Butit is a secret, Mrs. Maloney. I wouldn't like to ask you to trouble yourself about other people’s affairs.” ‘Indah and I’ve always had the riputation of niver tellin’ nobody’s bizness, ’cept me own, an’ that somehow leaks out o’ me unbeknownst, But if it’s a poor crayter in trouble I kin be as dumb as an oyster.” ‘* And you’ve got the room to spare?” queried Fred, evading the question about keeping secrets, ‘Sure af there’s bigger rooms in a palace nor | kin offer her. An’ finer furniture, and broader windys. And it’s like the ‘ating might be higher-toned. But a warm heart’s better nor sunshine, me lad, and the laste room in the world spreads out when ther’s a welcome in it, An’ faix she’s likely to have more welcome than mate, when she lives wid Kitty Maloney.” Fred laughed as he plunged out of the door, calling back: ‘*To-night’s the time, sooner.” He hurried away, for fear of further ques- tions about his secret, He did not care to pour too much knowledge into such a leaky vessel as Mrs. Maloney. then. Or maybe CHAPTER VII. MANAGING A WEAK WOMAN, It was a busy scene when he re-entered the editorial reoms of the Morning Star. A dozen editors and reporters were seated round as many tables, the only sound in the room being the scratch of pens, as they traveled at light- ning speed over broad sheets of paper. The news of the world was being manufactured at race-horse rate in that narrow apartment, and wise utterances, that were to astonish the city the next day, were being hammered and screwed out of half-empty brains, The young reporter seated himself at his own particular desk, and was quiekly as busy at the game as any of the others. He had learned the art of making much out of little, which is so important a part of an editor’s duty. To make a little matter look like a big one, and stretch a few ideas over a good deal of paper, is an art that does not come by nature. ‘* What have you got, Fred; asked the news editor, who was icicle his round of the re- porters. ‘‘ Something spry, I hope.” ‘*Fiddler’s news,” answered fred, indiffer- ently. ‘The market is as dead as a stone. Nothing doing. Everybody vegetating, and living on cold cabbage. Picked up a trifle or two, but—” and he shrugged his shoulders as if disgusted with the humdrum state of city af- fairs, ‘** Let me have them. What are they?” ‘*Mere trifles. Here’s a boy run over by a street-car, Killed square out. Smashed flat, If he’d only been badly burt now, there might be an opening for hospital items and lawsuits, It’s aggravatn~, the way folks get themselves done for. They don’t take any interest in the newspapers, ” ‘* What else?” asked the editor. ‘* Another bit of the same kind. Suicide, A man hung himself, and then hid the rope he did it with,” ‘* Hid the rope?” exclaimed the surprised ed- itor, Hang it, Fred, that won’t do! You are drawing the long-bow with a vengeance, How isa dead man going to cut himself down, and hide the rope? Come, come, the public won't swallow that.” ‘*That’s my item, anyhow,” answered Fred sturdily.. *‘ And I ain’t going back on a word of it. Don’t tell me what the public won’t swallow. Why, I told them last week about a hog doing a hard sum in arithmetic, and they took itallin. You've only got to grease your items, and they’ll go down slick enough. And see What a neat opening I’ve got here. I can tell to-morrow all about the finding of the ro After he had got enough hanging he stack the Jil > \ | id @) (>) 2B) Gi 6