Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 857 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

= ons , - a “~F *¥ 7 ~ x @r ; a Sa ae ; “ a ol 5 on ee ae > ~y o<* > 6. : —_ for it explained the singular silence of the ' mysterious man from Idaho, a silence that side of the head—a blow that nearly stunned * " : , 4 te ) boil “ « ~¢ \*s = - : - * 4 om ame Spotter Bob in New York.’ ‘‘Fam’ly fer soup? W’ot yo’ talkin’ bout, | had seem unaccountable so long as the man boy! He's married—got a wife an’ leetie | could hear and understand perfectly. gel.” The more the boy shadow thought it over ‘‘ Accept my gratitude for your kindness | the stronger became his conviction that he in responding. You're a daisy, Abraham.” | had hit upon the truth. If he were right, ‘‘My name ain’t Abr’um,. Don’t git fresh, | there was a chance that Silent Dave would kid!” do something desperate when he came face Bob made another humble bow. to face with Black Dirk, ‘Your pardon, Sir Knight, It was ‘‘If he should down Dirk, how’d I ever lapsus lingo—slip of the tongueo. Excuse | find my sister?” was the question Bob asked my Latin. I learned it when I was in France | himselt. ‘‘ Here he’s hired me at two dollars the last time, and it will occasionally slip la day to help him find this man, and now out, the best lcan do. Speaking about tips, | I’ve found him, I s’pose I oughter do the here’s a quarter. Is Mr, White much away |} square thing and say so. I’m ina box, an’ I from home?” dunno how to git out.” The ache accepted the quarter as if he The situation puzzled the boy a great deal, were doing Boba favor, but he continued | for he was square asa brick and could not to answer the questions promptly. | think of doing anything that was not perfect- ‘Yes, suh; he spend a gre’t deal ob his | ly white, It isa rare thing tofind a ony. lad, time away—’speshully nights. Sometime he | bred in the streets, who has a high idea of don’ come in tell atterI open up in de| honor, but when one is found, he is honest mawnin’.” to the bone. ‘‘ Business presses him, without doubt. After a time, Bob decided to ‘‘let up” on How old is his wife?” Black Dirk for that night, as it would not “Bout thirty, suh,” now be difficult to find him any time, and re- ‘* Is she tall, slim and dark?” turn to the hotel, where he could talk it over ‘*No; she am rudder short, fat an’ light.” | with Dave, That is, he would do the talk- “ How old is the little girl?” ing, while his partner replied with gesture ‘‘’ Bout t’ree year, suh,’”’ and an occasionally written word. ‘‘Among their visitors do you ever notice Shortly after arriving at this decision, Bob a young lady of about twenty who is tall, | was on the L riding down-town, slim and dark?” It was now dark and the street lights glim- ‘‘Dey nebber hab no visitors, sur. Mrs. | mered to the east from the road curve below White am an invalid, an’ she don’ go no- | One-hundred and-sixteenth street like a great swarm of fire flies. Away over toward the where nor receibe caliers no moah.”’ Bob pressed his lips together and for a | East Side the whole top of a building was encirled by a glare of electric lights that moment a look rested on his face that made caused the young fakir to believe it must be him appear much older than he actually was. All the frivolity had vanished before | a roof garden or theater of some kind. The boy’s head was busy with schemes, the passing cloud, and the anxiety that had been seen so long gnawing at his heart | and he scarcely noted the flight of time until Twenty eighth street wasreached. There he triumphed for the time. The negro was shrewd enough to see this, and he asked: left the train, intending to proceed straight ‘* Am there suffin’ worryin’ yo’, boy?” to the Tower House, In a flash the cloud on Bob’s face was gone. As he reached the foot of the Elevated ‘‘There am,” declared the boy. ‘‘I have | stairs he suddenly drew back, repressing an fallen heir to seventeen blocks on Broadway, | exclamation. Budge Farrel] was passing. and I must dispose of them before noon to- ‘*Wouldn’t Dave like to get after him!” morrow inorder to raise enough cash to set- tle my last winter's coal bill. I was simply | thought the young Rogue-Crusher. ‘* Won- der if he hangs out over that way?” investigating the standing of Mr. White to make sure he was responsible before I open- Farrel had turned to the west along Twenty- eighth street. ed negotiations with him. You have relieved my mind greatly, most exalted sir, and I ora moment Bob was undecided, and then he muttered: thank you with tears of gratitude in my ‘‘T might be able to track him to his bun- mind. Good-day, Sambo,” Having insulted the dignity of the janitor | galow, so here goes. It’s well enough to know where these chickens roost ” with this plebeian name, Bob turned and He promptly started to follow the thug. sauntered away. Farrel was swinging along at a good pace, his head down, asif deeply in thought,and Bob did not think there was much danger the ruffian would discover he was followed. They soon passed dark and silent houses— houses which would be brilliantly lighted after eleven o'clock, and from which would issue the sound of mirthless laughter and lascivious music, ‘Till the break of another day would these sounds continue, and yet blue coats and brass buttons were to be seen occasionally patrolling the street. Beyond Eighth avenue, the cosmopolitan thoroughfare of New York, hurried Budge Farrel. The section he entered rapidly grew squalid and vile. The street was badly lighted, and the dark figures slinking along the pave were far from reassuring. In the shadows of the street Bob lost sight of his man. He hastened forward arid ran straight into Farrel’s clutch, ‘*So-so, ye little divil!” grated the thug, as he fastened his horny hands on the boy’s throat, ‘* Ye t’ought yer’d foller me, eh? Well, I twigged yer little game-from der CHAPTER VI. THE MEETING OF FRIENDS. REGARDLESS of the fact that he had aroused the anger of the dignified black man, Spotter Bob crossed the street and paused to look up at the apartment building. ‘So that is where you live, Mr. Walden White, otherwise known as Black Dirk, gambler and desperado! I have tracked you to your hole, but I have not found my sister. I take it you have the reputation of being a very moral man, and doubtless you are highly respected. Money will buy respect in most cases, You know where my sister is, and [ am going to know before I am a great deal older. ‘But Silent Dave is the cove what gets me, an’ he gets me bad. What's his lay?— what's he want of Black Dirk? He’s from the West, and they shoot mighty handy out there, I've heerd. If I ain’t a codfish, I saw shoot in his eyes when we spotted Dirk in the bootblack’s chair on Sixth avenue. Shouldn't wonder if my pal had taken an oath never to speak another word until he! You stuck yer nose in my dish oncet, an’ 1] wiped out Dirky.” never fergit anyt’ing like dat. See if dis he thought came to Bob like a revelation, | breaks yer jaw.” Then he hit Bob a terrible blow on the LL LLL. an’ I’m jest goin’ ter break der face of ye! ee ee z Y SA Ae 7 7 7 . ‘ , ; ¥ Sab “qian Ih ae $e , Sor i: ee at: re ie So ae aa ee Be? The ~ * . &% pata we Lae UF ae Mpa y. cet Se “ae 4 * ae * $4 oes Hw oy 7 <= " e wv \ ‘ ‘ re , r Cn a s A le sat * t, r 1 els ak +. rt a - . ~ - ad > “<< — s* weve . start. I've gota bone ter pick wid youse, }. the reckless lad. The young fakir cried out with pain and rage and fought with all his strength. ‘No yer don’t!” evilly chuckled the king. ‘¢T’ll pound der life out of ye dis time!” But he did not strike Bob again. ‘* Drop him, you coward!” The words sounded close at hand, and, 2 moment later, the boy was forcibly torn from Farrel’s grasp. ‘Then the ruffian re- ceived a punch behind the ear that sent him reeling and staggering against some stone steps, over upon which he toppled. With an angry snarl, he leaped to his feet, his hand disappearing under his coat, as he faced the new-comer on the scene. ‘Look out!’ gasped Bob. “ He’s goin’ to pull a knife or a pistol!” | ‘‘Onme! Well, I should smile!” The individual who had so fortunatel come to Bob's assistance leaped like a flas at Budge, grasping the ruffian’s wrists. With a jerk and a twist, he baffled the des- perado’s intention and gave Farrel such a shock that a snarl of fury was wrung from the thug’s lips. For a few moments, there was a desperate battle, but Farrel was no match for his oppo- nent, and he was fairly knocked senseless into the gutter. ‘‘Come on,” advised the victor, turnin to Bob. ‘*‘ He dsn’t hurt any to speak of, It takes more than a thumping to injure his kind. Let’s get away from this locality.” ‘* Mister,’ cried the young fakir, in ad- miration. ‘‘ You’re a holy terror on skates? Who be ye? Seemsto me your voice sounds natural, but I—” ‘“And you! Great Scott! Can it be—it is—Bob Braddock!” “Sure! An’ you—” ‘‘Don’t you know me, Bob?” ‘‘Holy smokes! Frank Anson!” * Right!” The delight of the man and the boy at meeting thus was unbounded. ‘““Why,” cried Bob, ‘‘I t’ought you was in Phillydelfy!” ‘‘ Been in New York for a week.” ‘‘Tve been here two.” ‘* What doing?” ‘‘Same old racket—faking. Selling col- lar-buttons an’ cuff-supporters one day, combination jack knifes the next, double action screw-drivers the next, an’ so on.” _ **#ull of business, as ever!” ‘«That’s what.” “ You'll get on anywhere.” ‘Tl try it, Frank. But what be you doin’ here?” They had reached Eighth avenue and halted on the corner. Anson, who was @& tall, finely-formed young man with a smooth- shaved face, hesitated about answering. “Well, you see, Bob, I’m on business, too.’ The boy was not satisfied. ‘* What kind of business?” ‘‘1’m looking after somebody.” A sudden light of comprehension flitted across the young fakir’s face. ‘* You don’t mean—” ‘*T mean—” at Jessie?” They looked into each other's faces, re- gardless of the passing throng of people weaving restlessly beneath the white light of the lamps. The boy was the first to speak: ‘Who made you come?” ‘‘ Your mother wanted me to.” ‘“You have found—what?” ‘* Nothing.” “Not a trace of her?” “No.” ‘* Where have you looked?” ‘At all the theaters from the Bowery to _ Harlem.” ‘* She is not there.” ‘* But she wrote—” ‘* Jessie told no falsehoods in the old days, / ¢ ae 4 < »s “<4 © bs ie Me aM , j i : ’ " + = ie - : 7 * 4 o 3 . “ ’ ; ; AL wr = Bale fe me . ; 7 | a, 4 s ‘aah ‘ >, ¥ x) . Lal oy | bis . ~ pe ie oo IICDC . ¥ : 4 / | >) | | . re -