Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 452 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

1O There was a brief silence, during boys looked at each other, and Wellburn at both of them. He could not help noticing how dif- ferent they were. Both were small for their age, but, while Willis was feeble, Bob was likea | particularly tough knot. Hotspur Bob, the Stre which the | + - ee ee et Boy Detective. _—_——S -——— 4 ‘But it can’t be the same Shekespeare who | would walk all over other chap ef he see’d— wrote the poems,” expostulated the wondering | Hello /” Willis; but, before more could be sard, the | door opened and a young man of twenty-one | For about the firsé time in his life, Bob felt a.) little ill at ease. If Willis’s body was small, his eyes were preternaturally large, and they seemed © be aaa the Bowery boy through and througn, Ww ellburn noticed the mutual embarrassment, and was wise enough to know’ that the boys would get along more rapidly in acquaintance- ship when alone, so he did not prolong the inter- view. After some arrangements for the next day, Bob was left alone. ‘“ Wa-al,” he then muttered,‘ | guess I’m inter it up ter my collar-button, now. So Pm ter_be companion ter that young chap! Wal, Im gamblin’ rocks he’s a.good little shaver—a good ‘eal like Stumpy, only more so—but them eyes 0’ his’n is ounat’ral. Seems like I kin seo three miles back when I look inter them. an’ he will git along like apple-pie, hows’ever. But w’ot o’ ther fine madame o’ this towerin’ castle?” Bob winked sagely at the gas-jet. * She’s a clipper on high-heeled shoes!” And then he shook his head soberly and fell into deep thought, He was by no means sure of bis position at Andrew Wellburn’s. His acquaintance with that man had not commenced well. He hadsven him under the influence of liquor, and had jump- ed at the conclusion that the cashier was squan- dering the money of the Savings Bank. Now, bowever, he was in Wellburn’s employ, and found himself rather liking the man in spite of all. There seemed some danger fhat he would Reckon me | entered. He scarcely noticed Willis, but looked at Bob. “Hello, youngster!” “ Hello, oldster!” Bob coolly returned. “ What’s that you call me?” ““T seldom peddle my cabbages twice, an’ I reckon yer ears took in ther drift o’ my ree- marks,” ‘“‘None of your impudence here!” said the young fellow, with a scowl. “This is my brother Edward,” explained. W il- lis quickly, for he scented trouble. “Wal, f ain’t hired ter amoose him, Bob ob- served, with his usual serenity. ‘“So this is the chap the old man has brought in.” Edward said, placing his arms akimbo, ‘‘Tpon my word, Willis, T think you'll soon be a Solomon under Ais tuition.” ‘Never ’d do ter hev two Solomon’s in ther same fambly,” Bob coolly observed. ‘“Do you mean that for me?” What?” “Your slur.” “Dunno wot you're talkin’ about. Please come down ter U.S. lingo, ef yer want me ter ketch on.” ‘You're a blockhead!” “Took a blockhead ter diskiver it!” “Soe here, you young scoundrel, you want to | go slow, or Pl mash you all to pieces!” lose sight of his resolution to investigate the sws- | pected bank defalcation, and thereby lose his own deposit. ‘S But E won't!” hedeclared. ‘It would be a fool-job ef I let them millions o° mine slip away | when I see’d’em a-bein’ drawred out o’ their nest. f wou’t do it; not fer Joseph. wors my own case while @-workin’ Andrew’s. \y onder w’ot he expects me ter Varn in this p’la- tial xbole o’ wealth?” This was a question he could not answer, but what he had already seem, taken in connection with what the cashier had previously said, was enough to show that harmony was not one of the distinguishing traits of the Wellburn house- hold. “ Wiotever "tis, Pm sure ter gitatit. Iheva nat’ral taste fer dissectin’ pameag | mysteries, an’ I'm goin’ ter run this ’un down like a dog does a rabbit, b’gosh!” With this resolution the Bowery boy went to bed, He slept well, but found the family hour so late for rising that he had a good appetite by the time he had means of satisfying it. He ate with three servants, who were inclined. to view him scornfully, but bis good bu- mor soon made an impression, and a smart little ehamb -rmaid im a smart white eap seemed actu- ally smitten with bim. Mr. Wellburn brought Bob and Willis togeth- er again, aud then left them and went to his daily labor. Willis looked at Bob with a faint smile. ‘‘ What shall we do first?” Bob seratched his head. ‘‘ Wal, I dunno jostly, but ef P's ter git sg muskel fer you, i d suggest that ye begm by chuckin’ a barrel o’ flour over yer head.” ‘¢ Not with the flour in it?” ‘Why, cert!” ‘‘ But [ can't even hft it.” ‘No? Wal, mebbe it’d be ez wal ter begin by chuckin’ ther flour inter yer stomach in job lots, Ef we must hev some *musement, s"pose we read Shakespeare in ther original Greek. ‘* Read what?” ‘¢ Bill Shakespeare.” ‘¢ He wasn’t a Greek.” ‘Not by birth, I admit,” replied Bob, with a wave of his hand, ‘‘ He was born in Arizona, whar his dad went ter dig go’d; but when ther poet got big ernough ter work, ther minin’ biz No, sirree; PU | | — ee ; eet And, much to Willis’s alarm, Edward shook his fist belligerently at the personal friend of the Shakespeares. CHAPTER XI. TNE BADGER CONTINUES WORK. Marrers began to look favorable for a row, but Bob luckily remembered that he was ex- pected to keep the peace, and, without bending his dignity, so turned his conversation that he succeeded in soothing Edward’s wounded feel- ings. He soon left the room, and Bob and Willis were again left alone. ‘Several chapters might be written on the events of the day, during which Willis’s simple imgennousness and the worldly wisdom and bantering style of the Bowery boy stood out in. sharp relief. Despite this radical diff. rence in their natures, they progressed very well, and a friendship actually sprung up between therm—something that was the more natural to: Bob, because the other boy so often reminded him of Stumpy. When Mr. Wellburn returned at night, he found matters in much better condition than he had expected. Mrs, Wellburn had no mplaint to make against Boh, and Edward actually spoke well of him. As for Willis, he earnestly requested that his new companion might stay all the time with him. During the evening, Bob paid a brief visit te at first | Stumpy and ‘the Crosby street home, and as- tonished his partner in the peanut business by describing the glories of his new place of resi- ence, While at the latter place, the young detective had kept his eyes open as directed, especially during those periods when Willis was busy over his books, but he saw nothing worth reporting to the eashier. He had twice happened upon Olive Pray, but she deigned him only a glance and went her way. Bob desired no more; he did not like her appearance, and wanted none of her friendship. During the foremoon of the second day, how- ever, he was witness to an interesting scene in which she figured. _ Willis was busy with his books, Edward had gone owt on some sortof a trip, and Bob was trying to kill time somehow—for the inactive ag was leading had already begun to trouble He had visited the library and looked over some of the books, and had just reached the top of the stairs again when the door- bell rung. He paused to see who the applicant was. One of the servants washastening to the door, but Miss Pray suddenly came out of the parlor and stopped her. ‘*T will attend to it, Susan.” she said. was all Greek ter him, an’ that’s how he come ter write Macbeth, Yankee Doodle an’ Shoo Fly Susan looked surprised, but submitted witbout in ther Greek langwidge.” arerment and disappeared, “¥ thought he was an Englishman,” said Wil |” Miss Pray opened the door and a man entered. lis, his big eyes larger than ever. | So far all was tame enongh, but when Bob saw ‘‘His mother were a En lishman, but his |! the new-comer take Olive in his arms and kiss father was born right in ther ery, 0’ Russian | her, the boy’s eyes Opened somewhat. wider. pedigree. Ob, ’'m wal up in Sha -his| ‘Gosh all rat-traps! he’s done plucked ther son an’ me has played tergether. down in Crosby | dew off'm her an’ taint Ed’ard, either. street many times.” Reckon cz how pugilistie young screamer Bite e ae. nies | eS Se a — SS - Bob’s face assumed @ Blank look. The new- comer had finished his loving salute to Miss Pray, and as ne raised his head his face was. ex- posed to view. No wonder the Bowery boy was surprised. The face was a familiar ane to him; he bad seen it before. The new-comer was Bargrace, ** the tal] man.” ‘“Jemima K. Johnsing! is it him? Reckon he’s found out whar Andrew herds *thout my help. Won't want ter hire me now, ez much ez he did-—not fer Jose h! Jes’ my measly luck: J always bad a way © gittin’sot on an’ squashed.” Olive and Bargrade turned and entered the parlor, while Bob scratched his head anu looked after them. ‘‘ Now, thar is somethin’ odd abeut all this. Ef ther tall chap didn’t know nothin’ about Andrew, an’ wanted p'ints, it strikes me he’s got on kissin? terms wi’ ther cosset Inamb o’ ther flock in a mighty short time. Hol’ on, B. Bowery, E-squire: Thar is more ter this: riffle than is guessed at m yer vimple feel-esophy, ez Mr. Shakespeare would say: Jes’ so; jes’ so! I begin ter see.” He cast a wistful gaze toward the parlor. ‘Wonder ef I kin eavesdroop thar?” It was a risky piece of business, and he knew it. True, Mr. Wellburn had especially etrected that he should listen in such cases, if possible, but the opening of a door bya servant—and he ‘could hear them just beyond the hell— would hetray him irr deemebly. His werk ot Weliburn’s would thus be ended alr ost hefore begun. : “Pve got ter resk it, anyhow.” And he determined to risk it. This decision made, he went noiselessly d@wn the stairs and approached the parler docr. Would he be able to overhear anything there? He was not sure, but oe for the hest, and put his exr close to the keyhole. Almost im- mediately he heard distinct worcs in Bargrade’s voice: i Do ycu anticipate further trouble?” No,” replied Olive, ‘* He’s en obstinate fellow.” ““ Yes, but we hold the reins over bis back.” ‘“T am rather sorry that Dorcas spoke thus toe him.” “Well, he may as well know the truth row as ever.” : ‘“ Since them he has said nothing?” : ** Not a word.” ‘Well, he’s probably made up bis mind to let you stay.” ‘‘ Yon bet he has,” rather inelegantly replied Miss Olive. *“ And the cub?” - He's as stupid as ever.” rhinks you love him?” pe ‘* He’s a fool!” “Of course he is, but he’s a useful ene. He's like a. blind horse: makes a good many clumsy steps, but, if the bit is kept right in his mouth, and one gives the reins a jerk now and then, he'll ante up like a 2:10 nag.” Bowery Bob checked an inclination to whistle. | “ Gosh all Tam O'Shanter! is that ther meck | and lowly Miss O. Pray? She slings off slang in | a wey fit ter make a youth like me blush | purple.” “Pm not sure but he will make trouble,” Bar- grade thoughtfully seid. : “* How?” “He has a temper as angelic as your own— | begging your pardon, Olive—and he may act | rusty when he finds he is thrown over.” | “‘Nonsense! I’m not afraid of bim. He is more growl than bite. But I think aunt Dorcas is now ready to see you, and we will go ur.” These words, accompanied by the rustle ef her dress, gave warning to Bot. who promptly ee up-stairs and out of sight. Olive and her visitor followed in his footsteps, a and then entered Mrs. Wellburn’s rooms; but a fadicious locking of doors shut the Bowery boy from all chance of observation and hearing, — Convinced of this after wainly trying to pene- trate to the charmed regions, he tegen meditat- “Wal, there is somethin’ to be heerd im this ‘Iatial abode! Seems that_Miss O. Pray ain't alf so much in love with Ed’ard ez that cha | thinks. Calls him a sore-headed cub, or wor ter effect. she does. Now, that don't show gy | spect fer her swectheart—not fer Joseph w’ot did ther rest 0’ the chin-chin refer to™ Bob meditated duly on this point before decid- ing. geems that somebody wanted fer ter chuck | ther Iamb-like an’ do-cile Mise ©. Pray out, ) ee “17 «t%, ( a” “* — ll jn : | con ap Tce) ee