Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 775 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

2 Broadway Billy’s Shadow Chase. his Wild West cruise, and this morning was Billy’s birthday. He was now twenty-one years old! ** There is no mistake about it, Billy,” assured his mother, with her pleasant smile. ‘‘ You are of ege to-day, and a man, But, you know it well enough, for this is the day you have been looking forward to.” It was early morning, and mother and son had just met at the breakfast table, together with oger Watts, who was still ‘‘one of the fam- ily.” ‘Many changes had taken place, and we find Billy in a new home. He had taken a flat in a good neighborhood, furnished it nicely, and in- stalled his happy mother there. The old place and the old life had been left be- hind forever, and Mrs, Weston, proud and con- tent in the love of her son, declared herself to be the bappiest woman in the world. Greeting Billy on this morning with his usual birthday kiss, she had made a remark that led to the quo- tation with which our story opens, ‘**Low me ter congrattylate ye, too, me son,” cried the old ranger, ‘It ain’t s’prisin’ that ye don’t feel no different bein’ a man this mornin’, for ye have been a man fer some time past, I take et, Hang me, if you don’t look every inch a man, too, even if thar ain’t no wkiskers yet. Billy, I’m proud of ye, and I hev been proud of ye ever sence I first seen ye.” ‘*And he is a boy to be proud of, too, Mr, Watts,” averred Mrs, Weston, ‘** Course he is,” rejoined the ranger. ‘* An’ he’s a man, ma’m; nota boy. But, then, you’re his mar, and he would be you boy jest ther same, even it he was forty-one. That’s natur’.” ** You are right, Mr. Watts; he will always be my boy. I wish every mother had one just like him, too. He is a good boy, has always been a good boy; and a good boy cannot fail of making a good man, Iam proud of my Billy.” illy stood blushing like a rose, ‘*Let up, mom!” he -pleaded, “or you will spoil me, and then | won’t be so good. If there as any good in me, Rover, it was mom, here, that made it. She’s a mother to be proud of, I tell you, I knew what she said was so, every time, and 1 followed her advice,” ‘* Good for you, me son,” ‘** There, now, Billy, there, now, the mother admonished, ‘‘I won’t say any more about ye, Come, let’s get at our breakfast before it gets cold.” And so they sat down to the inviting repast. Let us take a brief glance backward. Billy and ‘‘ Skinny,” so long partners at the old corner stand, bad passed that business over to a younger brother of Skinny’s, and together had taken a store, It was chiefly, Billy’s money which went into the enterprise, Skinny giving his time and ex- perience to offset, From the start this store had scored a success, and its prosperity was as- sured, Skinny was fatter than ever, yet the same old Skinny in spirit, and he, like Billy, had removed his mother and the rest of the family to better uarters than they had ever before enjoyed. “verything was well with them all, and the future looked bright, , Billy bad rented an office on Broadway—no other thoroughfare would do for him, he had de- clared; intending on this, his twenty-first birth- day, to hang out his shingle and open for busi- ness as a full-fledged detective, He had receiv- ed encouragement from many sources, and there was every reason to believe he would be success- ful in the field he liked so well. Anyhow, he meant to try it. Our first notice of Broadway Billy was when, asa lad of seventeen, be performed his initial piece of detective work that was really worthy of record, Previous to that, for some time, he had in many ways proved bimself useful to the polico and detectives, and the dream of bis life— the goal of his ambition, had been to become a detective himself and win the confidence of the chief of the Metropolitan force. Following him step by step, through his prin- cipal adventures, we have seen him gain his de- sires, He served an apprenticeship tbat rivaled the record of many a professional, risking his life many times and having any number of narrow escapes, so was well qualified for the business he was about to undertake, W bile the meal was progressing, and while the three were busily talking, there came a ring at the bell, ‘That’s Skinny, I'll bet on it!” exclaimed Billy at once; and rising from the table he pull- ed the wire that would open the outer door to the caller, A moment later a heavy and slow step was heard on the stairs; then came a tap at the door and Billy, ready to open it, admitted the fat partner into the room in all] bis rotundity. ‘** Great ginger!” Skinny cried, ‘*‘ you look just the same as you did yesterday, Billy. Why, I expected to see a man here.” — ‘*Sweet pertaters!” retorted Billy, as hearti- ly, in his boyish way; ‘‘.give me half a chance, , won’t you? Give me time to raise a mustache and a pair of chops, and then I’ll show ye.” Both laughed, and Skinny congratulated Billy upon his having arrived at the important age that entitled him to take part in the affairs of his country. Skinny was urged to partake of breakfast, but declined, saying he had just had his, so he sat down and waited until Biily finished. Then, a some talk, the two young men took their eave, Both went to the store, where Billy’s presence was needed upon a matter of business, Skinny was acknowledged manager here:—already he had two clerks under his charge, and there he can be seen any day. After attending to the business, Billy went on to his office, At the main door of the great office building, he tore down a square of paper that was tacked up, disclosing a new and neatly painted sign bearing his name, “ WILLIAM WESTON, Private Detective. Room 20,” A ffush mounted to his face as he looked at this for a moment—a flush caused by com- mingled pride and modesty; then he sprung up the stairs to the second floor, and when he came. in sight of the door of Room 20 he discovered a boy sitting patiently before it on a bootblack’s He was a sturdy-looking little fellow, a tad of fifteen, short of stature and strong of limb, and his face, clean aud shiny as soap and water could make it, was bright and intelligent. He was rather good-looking, as boys go, with black hair and eyes, but was clad in a suit that evi- dently had seen hard service. The lad rose as Billy appeared in sight, and with a single movement his box was transferred from the floor to his shoulder. ‘** Hello!” exclaimed Billy, at sight of him, ** you are on hand, I see, Harry.” ‘*You bet!” was the exclamation. ‘“ It’s bound to bea cold day when Happy Harry don’t keep bis ’p’intments, Mr. Weston.” Yet again did that flush mount to Billy’s cheeks, In this lad he saw himself as he had been—it seemed only yesterday, and yet be was called ‘‘ Mr. Weston.” But, he realized that it was all rigbt. ‘**Thatis right, Harry,” heapproved, ‘ Punc- tuality is one of the mainsprings of success, That is to say, never fail to connect, unless you are in a difficulty and can’t get there. If you make that rule, your friends will know some- thing is wrong when you don’t turn up,” ‘“ That’s just the kind of a warbler 1 am,” the lad declared. ‘‘When I say I'll be there, you can set it down fer a fack that I’m going to be if the wheels stay on. When you said you wanted to see me this mornin’, and asked me ter be bere at nine, sharp, and I said I would, that settled it. I was here before the clock stop ed strikin’,” * Well, we will go into the office, and then 1 will tell you what I wanted to see you for,” ** All right; 1’m your daffodil.” Tbe upper half of the door was of ground glass, and here another sheet of paper “was fastened, This Billy tore down, revealing another sign handsomely lettered on the glass: ‘WILLIAM WESTON, Private Detective.” ** Office Hour—9 a, Mm,” “If not in, drop note.” Billy unlocked the door and ke and the boy entered, A neatly furnished office was disclosed, one which did not savor too strongly of newness, either, since Billy had bought the carpet and some of the furniture from the previous oc- cupant, he carpet was a neat one, though a little worn. The desk was a good one, large, roomy, and somewhat dignifi . The rest of the furniture was substantial and necessary. There were two windows, with curtains, Billy closed the door and looked around him with the air of one who was monarch of all he surveyed, ‘*Sweet pertaters!” he exclaimed under bis breath, **I wouldn’t ’a’ believed it if mom her- self had told me. Is it possible this is you, Willyum?”’ His pause was only momentary, and he cross- ed the fioor and sat down at the desk, at the Same time inviting bis young friend to help bimself to a chair, which the boy promptly did. ‘* Now, Harry Hillyard, we will come to busi- ness at once,” Billy opened. ‘‘ You area boy I bave had my eye on for some time, and I think I can make use of you, if you are willing, and put you in the way of making more money than you are making now. Do you want to work for me?” ‘Want ter work fer ye? Mr. Weston, you jest say you want me and I'll stand on my head on my box and kick the flies off the ceiling! Do I want ter work fer you? Well, I should warble! I have read about all your doin’s, and I’ve made up my mind that I’m goin’ ter foller right after ye and see if I can’t be a detective, too—one of the get-up-and-go-it-fer-all-ye-ar’- worth kind.” ‘Well, I think there is good stuff in you,” acknowledged Billy, earnestly, ‘“‘and l’m going to see how you will pan out,” CHAPTER II. BILLY’S FIRST VISITOR. HARRY HItLuyYArRD, or ‘“‘ Happy Harry,” as he was better known on the street, was a boy whose acquaintance Billy had made some time pre- vious, Billy had been on the lookout for just such a boy-adjutant. Entering the lists, ‘now, as a professional, he wanted some one to take up the role he was laying down; that was, to be the boy detective he bad been himself, and in looking around for such a lad, bad found this one, who, at a glance, he believed would ‘ fil] the bill,” admirably, and so, on the day previous to this, his birtb- day, Billy bad requested the gamin to come to the office at nine in the morning. ‘You told me you have neither father or mother, didn’t you? That being the case you baven’t any home, I take it.” ‘*No home? All New York is my home, Mr. Westov. In cold weather I sleep at the lodgin’- house, and in summer I bunt a box and save up my dimes. Andas fer grub, Néw York is full ‘of that.” ‘That is all right, Harry, but that won’t do. You must havea home, and lam going to take you to my homeand make you oneof the family. My mother will be glad to have you with us, I know, and you must be a second Broadway Billy to her. How will that suit you’ ‘*Ob, Christopher Columbia! You don’t mean ” ‘‘'Yes,I do mean it. But, there must be an naderstanding between us before we go any fur- ther, ‘* And what is that? Iam willin’ to agree to anytbing you say, fer I know you won’t ask any- tbing of a fellow that ain’t right, What is it?” ** Well, Pll put it to you plain and straight. You bave got to promise me you won’t chew, smoke or drink; that you won’t swear: and that on’ll never lie or steal. If you can’t promise all that I don’t want you.” **Ob Christopher!” cried Happy Harry. ** You hit me right where I’m at home, now, Mr, Wes- ton. Iam cured of all that a’ready. When I used to read about you, at first, I did smoke and chew, as other street walkers do, and sometimes I’d swear; but when I found you didn’t do any- thing like that, why J quit it, right off sharp.” ‘Well, I'm glad of that, and I’m glad my mother’s influence bas spread out a little further than myself. More than that, if you have been taking me for your model I am glad my record is clean all the way through. I tell you what it is, Harry, no boy can hope to be the right kind of amanif hedon’t begin by being the right kind of boy; and the boy that chews, smokes and drinks, to say nothing about worse things, is all wrong, and will sooner or later go wrong.” ‘*T know it. Why, I’m twice as strong as I was when I sucked cigarettes all day.” ‘*Of course you are, Then you promise all the things I have named, do you? I want your honest word on that point.” ‘*T promise, you bet. And [ll stick to it, too!” ‘* Well, that point is settled, then, and you are to have a home at my house and be one of the family, Ill give you tbat free of cost, and will pay you something besides, for a year. By that faa can tell what you are good for.” ‘That suits me. All I want is a good chance, and I guess I can prove how worthless I am in a good deal less time than a year.” | Sic =eiee ee + ——, ~ ,. ; :