Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 452 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

4 -_—— -_- followed, keeping his eyes well open. He did not trust the stranger to any great extent. ‘‘Who is yonder man?” his new acquaintance abruptly asked. ‘‘T ain’t seen his keerd yit. Mebbe he’s ther mayor, or a liquor-seller, or some other nabob,” warily replied Bob, “Don’t you know him?” “ Ain’t got ther honor o’ his acquaintance, boss.” “Well, he is a man of high position here in New York, and, as he seems to have selected you to see him safely through his trouble, | want you to look out for him. Don’t let him fall into the hands of any of the criminals who abound here.” As the stranger spoke he held out his hand, and the boy saw a crisp, new bank-note in if. His first impulse was to decline it, for he felt . anything but friendly toward the stranger, but he thought better of it and took it in. The note bore a figure five in one corner, and certainly seemed a generous present under the circum- stances, “T reckon him an’ he will pull through all hunk. Thar ain’t much about either on us ter tem t a red-handed highwayman. But, seo hyar, mister—why be you so mightily int’rested in this hyar racket?” ‘(That is my business.” ‘(Don’t want a pardner?” ad No.” “Jest ez you say. I ain’t goin’ ter poke my nose in whar it ain’t wanted. Some folks do. ‘‘Meaning me?” “You? Gosh! how you snap at ther bait!” retorted Bob, with a grin. ‘‘ Never mind; don’t let your tongue run away with you. See! thereis a cab. Better hail it, and get this man home.” It was good advice, and the boy proceeded to follow it. He madea bargain with the skill of one who knows the ways of cabmen, and the vehicle drew up beside Wellburn, who was then assisted into it by Bob and the driver. When this was done the boy looked for the stranger, but that person had disappeared, Considering it no great-loss, Bob gave the cab- man proper directions, and they were soon roll- ing away. ellburn lay back on the seat and said noth- ing, but the expression on his face was not that of a happy man. Bob did not see fit to try to make him talk, but he was not at a loss to un- derstand that the evening's losses at cards rested heavily on the cashier’s mind. Perhaps, too, there was something more. The same remar 2 be applied to Bob. He had no proof that Wellburn had used other than his own money, but he knew that a trusted official of a savings bank—a place where ee people deposited their all—ought not to be a gambler and drunkard. ‘‘Like ez not he’s been a-pilferin’ an’ a-gam- bolin’ away ther hull stake, an’ makin’ beggars o’ us all. ot is ter be did?” He was considering this very important ques- tion when Wellburn spoke again: ‘“ Are we going right?” “Straicht ez a die. We're on tho Bowery, nigh up ter Cooper Institute. Listen, an’ ye kin hear ther rhythmic rattle o’ ther elevated keers.” ‘Boy, you are a treasure to me.” ‘Bel? Really, ye do me proud.” ‘What is your daily avocation?’ “My which ?” “ Avocation—em loyment—work.” “Oh! jes’ so. aL I’m a peanut nabob. Ever hear o’ ther firm o’ B. Bowery, Stumpy & Co.? Them is me, part on ’em, an’ Stumpy is my pard He’sa chap wi’ a bad leg an’ a bunion on his left foot, but he’s an awful likely lad wi’ his dukes, is Stumpy.” You sell peanuts?” ‘Rather. It don’t pay fer ter give away.” ‘‘ Suppose you could get better work?” “Can I” “Tf you arethe kind of a boy I take you to be, I would like to hire you.” “Tor do what, fer instance?” “Oh, a little of everything. I want a boy about my premises who would be honest, shrewd and observing—also, close-mouthed.” “You don’t mention diggin’ taters, ner feedin’ a rheumatic hoss on oats an’ whip-lash.” “T have neither land nor a horse. What I want is that you should make yourself generally useful. I promise you that your work shall not be hard; in fact, it will be next to nothing.” ’em Woll-s don’t ginerally hire other folks ter do nothin’,” warily observed the boy. e : tes. Phy es . ; ae - ha Hotspur Eob, the Street B Then he glanced again at the driver. oy Detective. = “That is true, but, to speak pain, I want you | iron-shod hoofs had deadened Bob’s own steps,, to do a little detective work for me, ‘* Detective work?” “Yes. Do you think you can?” ‘Do I? Well, I should whisper! Why, yer see— Yas, o’ course I kin, ckon I'd be a ree’lar Pinkerton wi’ a week’s practice,” Bob had che: ked himself suddenly, just as he was about to say what deliberate thought told him was rash, and was wondering what would come next, What * detective work” could Wellburn pos- sibly have for him to do? Why did not such a high-toned person as Andrew Wellburn secure a detective, if he wanted any work done? As though to answer this mental interroga- tion, the cashier said: ‘““T believe no one could fill the requirements of the place better than such a boy as you. An ordinary detective would be suspected; you will not.” “Wot be I ter detect? berers?’ “You shall see to-morrow. I am not now in condition to transact business. Who was that tall man we saw cn Grand street?” ‘‘T}1is nibs in the cloak an’ behemoth hat?” sé Yes,” ‘‘Now you hev me foul, ez ther woman said when ther hawk ketched her chicken, but he was right int’rested in you, mister.” “He was? How so? Tell me all that hap- pened.” Bob gave a succinct account of the tall man, which seemed to perplex and trouble Wellburn. ‘‘Tm afraid that fellow means mischief.” “He can’t tech ye ef ye hev on ther armor 0’ rectitude an’ sech.” Wellburn did not answer. The remark, care- less as if sounded, probably touched him more than he would have acknowledged. The cab suddenly stopped. The had reached the corner of Fifth avenue an Twenty-first street, but as it was considerably short of their destination, they were somewhat surprised when the cabman appeared at the door. ‘Tt may be all right, an’ then ag’in it may not,” he said, explanatorily; ‘‘but thar is an- other cab bangin’ on our trail. Ive tried enough tricks ter be sure that it is a-follerin’ us. Ef you don’t object, I don’t, but 1 thought you oug t ter know the fact.” ** Are you sure it’s following us?” “ec Yes.’ ““T don’t see why it should.” ‘Wal, if you don’t object, Idon’t. The street is free to all, but I thought there might be mis- chief in the thing, you see.” Wellburn hesitated, and then glanced at Bob. Murderers or rob- **Do you ig ae you can alightsecretly, work eer and find out who our pursuer is?” he asked. “Can I? Can a cat eat milk? ©’ course I can! Jes’ let me out, an’ I'll be onter’em in a shake. But when shall I see you again?” ‘‘T'll wait at the door of my house—no, wait; I am not fit to be up; come to me to-morrow at eight o’clock A. M.” ‘Jes’ so. Hyer I go. You kin drive on, cabby, an’ my blessin’ go wi’ yer. I'll be ’round, mister, ez agreed upon in ther catalogue.” With these words Bob skipped to the side- walk, and at the corner of the street curled up in the darkest shadow, while the cab rolled on, Bob had no great amount of faith in the plan arranged for him. If the second vehicle was really in pursuit, the halt of the first would be likely to arouse suspicion, and then the strangers would be stupid indeed if they allowed them- selves to be investigated successfully. So argued the boy, but he lay back in the shadow and waited, The other cab had not been visible when he took up his position, but only a few moments had passed when it—or one like it—rounded & corner and came along at a smart pace. Propably the driver was trying to make up for lost time. Bob was surprised, but he determined to do his work well, now that he was started on the job, and all his senses were on the alert. As the vehicle passed, the driver looked straight ahead, and the boy was confident that be bad been unseen, That he could do the next part of his work without attracting the driver’s atten- tion, he was not so sure. There was only one thing . roceeded to do it expeditiously. Arising from the shadow, he darted after the carriage. It was already past, but his fleet feet soon cut down the distance and he fell in behind. Rad he been seen? It seemed not, The man was still looking straight ahead; the sound of the horses? to be done, and he C—O and his small figure had not been seen. ready for the next move in the game. CHAPTER IV, BOB SECURES A SITUATION. His success up to this point had considerably encouraged the young detective, and, holding to the carriage and running lightly behind it, he proceeded to see who was inside. The vehicle proved not to be a cab, as Well- burn’s driver bad reported, but a covered car- riage of antique character, Bob noticed all this even then, and he concluded that it must be a private conveyance, though by no means a stylish one, A small, oval piece of glass was fixed in the back part for pu: poses of observation, and he proceeded to put it to such use at once. Raising himself clear of the ground, he ap- plied one eye to the glass and looked inside. The carriage was unlighted, but he saw that two persons were inside—a man and woman. What they wero like he could not tell, and he had thought of no way when, as they rolled past a street lizht, so broad a gleam fell momentarily in the vehicle, that he gained the idea of utilizing the next. He waited; they dashed past a lamp, and Bob used his eyes to the best of Lis ability. * Jemima G. Jones!” he muttered, “TI be torn ragged by a sassage-cuttcr ef ’tain’t him!” By “him” he meant the man whom he had seen on Grand street; the tall man who had so. interested himself in Wellburn’s case. But who was the woman? She had not been visible before, and Bob felt that there was, indeed, cause to regard them with suspicion. Why were they following tho cab? Had it been with a mere friendly motive, such care would not have been taken. ‘Td jest like a squint at that female woman. She may be ole Wellburn’s wife, but I'll bet my extra socks that she ain’t. ' No, sirree; I svent a dark an’ devastatin’ scheme in all this, an’ as I’ve sorter hired out ter Ancrew, I must Jook arter his interests—an’ ther woman.” This he essayed to do, improving each street lamp, but his success was not pronounced, That she was a tall woman, was | poy but her back was toward him, and he could get no view of her face. ‘* But I will,” he thought, “ef I stay hyar till my toe-nails grow inter ther solid rock—I mean inter ther axle. I want her mental fottygraph, as twere, an’ ther only way is ter hang on— Hello /” The train of his meditations was suddenly in- terrupted. He had become so interested, that he had forgotten all else, but he was suddenly brought to himself as a hand fell on his shoulder and he was plucked from his perch, The carriage had been slowly turning a corner, and a vigilant policeman had captured him. He stood holding bis prisoner as the vehicle rolled away, but Bob, seeing the danger that menaced him, began squirming vigorously. ‘Soe yer, lemme go, will yer? I'll be left!” “You are left—bet your life on that,” retorted the guardian of the night. “Lemme go! Ther boss will lam’ me. He tole me ter kang on ther like sixty, en’ hell lick ther beef off my ribs ef I ain’t a~-hangin’ when he gits home.” ; ‘¢‘Oh! come off!” the policeman replied. ‘‘ You can’t stuff me with such an antiqne, chestnut 2s that. You Jive in Harlem and was-trying for a freeride. I've stopped it, and now you may think yourself lucky if I don’t take youin, Keep quiet and ycu’ll be all right; make a row, and in you go,” There was no help for it. The officer meant what he said, and as Pob was notrash enough to drive him to the execution of his threat, he stood in utter silence until the man in blue saw fit to let him go, Then he walked quietly for @ block until be- yond observation, atter which he settled down to business and almest flew over the sidewalk in an attempt to overtake the carriage. Luck was against him. When he reached Andrew Wellburn’s house it was dark and silent and no vehicle was visible. ( ‘Wal, ther jig is up, Sure ez pop-corn, an’ all Owin’ ter that copper. Wonderful cute, he was! I'll bet a bumblebee’s fang ag’in’ a feather duster that he’s asleep on beat afore now. But them cattle in ther kerriageisgone, Yes sirree—they hev slipped away like a cake o’ wet soap, an’ all ther wharfores 1s unsolved. Reckon Andrew won't hey no mammoth opinion o’ my detective gifts when I tell him all this, but I'l drop’round in ther mornin’ an’ see w'ot he’s got ter sey. J's sorter like a sit in his feudal castle, fur ef '” nicboo cor ll was: