Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 88 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

2 Photograph Phil, THE BOY SLEUTH; OR, Rosebud Rob's Reappearance. BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, AUTHOR OF ‘‘ DEADWOOD DICK’ NOVELS, ‘* ROSEBUD ROB’’ NOVELS, ETC., ETC. CHAPTER IL. PHDTOGRAPH PHIL—A BOY OF THE PERIOD, AND HIS ROGUE'S GALLERY. * On! Photograph Phil Is a glorious Pill; A boy of the period, you bet! And the coins he rakes in, Are not earned by sin, But made by the brow of his sweat!” “Yes, pilgrims, Photograph Philip am I—a wonder of the ninetecnth century—a marvel fer two or severial contin :nts. Walk up, ye benign-faced de- scendants of the ape—ramble hitherward, ye anglers fer ther golden grub, and behold the various peculi- arities o’ yer humble servant—then smile, on realiz- ing that you hive blundered plum squar’ upon the Mecca of your sanguine anticipations- that you have found a Mullum in Parvo, right hayr in the city of Cascade. “ Weller-citizens, I am nota public lecturer, aimin at a position in the Capitol, neither am Ia quac cure-all for all diseases and afflictions, as ye might all suppose. No, sir, my intelligent hearers, I am none of these, but something grander—a spontane- ous outburst of effusive nature, sandwiched with seven pounds of brains, and more tongue than mor- tal man e’er had before. “Ts there ary pilgrim, with thoughts so base or motives so evil, as would durst say I had not the right to wield my gabby appliance for my special earthly maintenance? No! three hundred and fifty thousand times no! In the words of the poet: ‘** A man may dress in garments rough, Or dress in habiliments sieek; He cannot be a gospel tough, Wi'’out a plenty o’ cheek.’ * Allow me ter add, gt ae apples of my eye, - that the poet had glued his gaze upon me when he wrote those poetical lines. Oh! bewhiskered mon- archs of the pick, let me impressit deeply upon your minds, that I am a great sensation—a combined world’s fair, rivaling either the Centenyal or Bar- num’s sarcuss, I am the coming man, the conqueror of science, the professor o’ the American sleuths. Behold in me, on! mighty hosts, the son of a seventh son! A man whose understanding surpasseth thine own, even though mine years number but in the nineteenth column of life. Look at me—slap your optics straight upon me, ye suspicious mortals, and apprise me ef ye see in me anything unnaturial—if [ am particularly a monstrosity, a mermaid or a cat- ** Humbug ? Where did I hear that whisper, then? It wafted unto me like the cackle of an eight-day heifer! Where is the man who durst say I am not— a boy of the period, a vagabond, a scamp? Where is that pilgrim who durst aver that Iam not a beat, a sleuth, a snoozer, gifted with a gab like unto per- petual motion’ Hooray! the idea of a nineteen-year- old sharp, ra gan | such avast concourse of peo- ple, who staud with bated breath and 9, Sey agape, listening to the discordant notes of a Boy of Period—a graceless scamp, who has tried his hand at nearly every trade and profession, from cheating babies out of their bottle of milk to mur- dering blind mice out of pure cussedness. “ifere you all stand, with your hands in your poceas and grotesque grins upon faces—bums, ullwhackers, and beats, taking in what I say, aud wondering what Lam about todo. Oh! ye poor hulf-witted sons of sea-cooks! be prepared to be as- tounded! dumbfounded! tated as by a gigantic earthquake! Be ye in readiness, I say, to be demor- alized and panic-stricken by me, the wonder of the nin ‘teenth century, when I reveal unto you the se- erets of my visit here. ‘*Gaze at me! protrude your eyeballs at me! watch the incess..ut and mechanical motion of my tongue! Allow me to assure you that it is all my own. Polit- ical parties have even engaged me to harangue to mighty multitudes, and, as a result, there are ninety indictments standing against me for talking sundry senators and sardines to death. I have actually the assurance that [ can stand here and talk longer and gas you longer than any mortal man extant. “AsIsaid before, gaze at me! You behold an or- dinary cha), five feet four high, hen ag hundred and foriy pounds—a saucy-looking, dependent chap—and the biggest rascal east o’ the settin’ sun. I stand upon a dry-goods box, in the main streets of Caseade City, surrounded by a multitude of people —a hard crowd o’ ‘ citizens,’ at the best. Behind me upon the dry-goods box, stand several frames, an ai object covered with a blanket, which might be a sc wing-machine, a camera, or a surveyor’s instru- ment. It.is the middle of the three—a photograph- machine, for taking the ae of man or st, with equal accuracy and dispatch. ™ “‘fTere, let me arrange the frames, writ. and unvail hundred individuals, distinct from each other. I cail tuis my rogue’s gallery, and these are my There! you see you have pictures of four rogues. Every man ‘bi see there pictured is a con- summate rascal, with a reward set upon his head. Walk a eee gaze at the artistic collection! It costs ou nothing to look upon the features of brother- eats and scamps. Ten to one, every man in the crowd is a villain—a ruffian of the deepest hair-dye! I have come here that you might have the chance to add your faces to the distinguished collection. Here are kings, ministers, gamblers, deacons, merchants, theater dead-heads, beer-guzzlers, stage-drivers, tramps, and pussy seas all as natural as life. Walk up, pilgrims! and view the collection. Maybe you'll see the face of some dear gelative, and I can sell you a duplicate for the moderate sum of a dollar!” The crowd surged forward to get a peep at the collection, which the young sharp had so gabbily an- nounced in his peculiar harangue, The eccentric individual had quite described the scene; let us devote a little space in describing him. He was a well-formed youth, about nineteen years of age, attired in a stylish suit of gray, with panta- loons tucked in his boot-tops, and a battered “* plug” hat cocked upon one side of his head, after rowdy style, His whole appearauce was that of a flashy, bejeweled jockey, except you were to make a study of his face. Here you would stop to digest former iepreasope, in order to make room for new ones. t was a strange face, that of this Boy of the Peri- od, as he had aptly styled himself. expression of good nature in the prominent linea- ments, as well as signs epee of a cunning aud an inde endent, dare-devil disposition, and a will firmer than rock. His features were of ordinary mold, with firm chin, fat, health-tinted cheeks, and a mouth ever haunted with a waggish expression or asmile. The eyes were blue, keen and sparkling, the forehead high, the hair brown and curling close to the skull. This gave him a strange appearance, as viewed among the straight and long-haired min- ers of the town. Whence he had come none knew, except that the stage had brought him into the town, with a super- fluity of trunks and boxes; and now, under the moon- light of the early autumnal evening, with its soft Indian summer breezes, he had gathered about him such a crowd as ne’er before had assembled in the main street of the town—or er For the town of Cascade City has made rapid strides since we bade it adieu ‘““Tdyl, the Girl Miner,’ to return and chronicle another strange and eventful story of the mines. The monthly moon- tides now came ly, and covered the gulch- bottom with golden sands, even as the moon fulled in the heavens. Consequently, ina few short days the gulch was a second Deadwood, with its hosts o eople, and hundreds of saloons, shanties, stores and nted habitations, wherein dwelt and traded the heterogeneous masses. Several miners had attempted to trace Cascade creek above the noisy falls, but they had never re- turned and, as a consequence, others had litile desire to follow their example. Changes, too, have come among those whom we have formerly known as characters. Sir Tom Somerset and his wife Idyl* have gone East, and of all the faces we see in the crowd which surrounds the sharper, Photograph Phil, there are but two we recognize. One of these is Baltimore Bess! The girl dare-devil herself, as natural as life, with the same coolness which has given her her fame— the same bountiful supply of “ brass,’”’ so much need- ed, if one expects success in the Far West. Bess stands andgazes admiringly at the eccentric Photo- graph Phi, for he is a novelty in the mines, and evidently no *‘slouch,.”’ We cast around for the next face which we know. Carefully we gaze over the human sea, but see none familiar in our memory, unless—can it be possible? Can it be that we are not mistaken in that fellow, not far from Bess—the blear-eyed, red-nosed, rag- gedly-attired bummer, whose legs seem unable to support him, and whose drunken hiccoughs and ex- clamations are the cause of many a shout of laugh- r A new “ citizen’? in the town, is he, evidently, for nobody seems to know him. At the best he is a filthy-looking, greasy old wretch, with unkempt hair and beard:—no, we are sure, now, that we have never seen him before. It was a faint gleam in his preternaturaly bright eyes, which called back the recollection of another. = | “ Hic! hur-r-rah-er!’’ this individual would shout, occasionally. “I say (hic!), young feller, d’ye know me? D’ye (hic!)‘ever remember 0’ takin’ my forty- here was an graft? ‘‘ Most noble duke, I am sorry to aver that I never had that honor!” Photograph Phil. repiied, with a grin. ‘ Although I’ve photographed nearly all the crowned heads of Europe, I never had tho opportu- nity of taking your most sublime phiz.”’ ‘‘No! I guess-er not, young feller. I (hic!) guess- er not. D'ye know me (hic Gas know who I am?” ** Ain’t the Grand Duke Alexis, are you?”’ ‘*No! guess-er not!’’ the old bummer muttered scratching his head through the crownless part of his old hat, as if to dig up the roots of remember ance—“ ruess-er not,’ ‘* Ner Dom Pedro, the emperor?” a Sp aa a it ong a much i: ye please, yo eller, (hic!) play pedro, an ge ef er beat. D-d-dead broke.”’ ; ‘Oh! maybe you're George Jackson, then?” the Boy Mhovarmapner observed. ; ‘“N-n-no! Guess-er not. Don’t know me (hic)), hey? Well, (hic!) my handle’s Bully Ike, now, you _ b-b-bet (hic!) B-bully Ike, frum the six hundredth | (hic!) congressional deesirict. I'm a b-b-bruiser, I ' am (hic!), an’ don’t ye fergit it—a reg'lar (hic)) TT. Sa tee ee ee ee ee es oe ee” ee ee ee en lee a —— masher frum ther old (hic!) sc’ool. T-t-t-take my (hic! Se A Sate, young feller?” ‘Wait til you’re sober, old pilgrim, and spruced Then, come around, an’ [’]l set you off in style. ow, feller-citizens, I guess you’ve seen ther sub- jects o’ my rogues’ ery‘ an’ we'll adjourn ’til ter- morrer. Then, all I request is a visit from those who desire to have their pictures taken. Thanking you for your kind attention. I will now dismiss you.’ As the show was evidently over for the time being, the crowd be an to disperse, and soon the stand lately occupied by the lively-tongued photographer was cleared of its freight, which had Leen trans- orted to a boxed wagon, drawn up at one side of he trail as if for repairs; while a superanuated mule grazed close at band. The Lo through the town, with no intent, evidently, except to see the sights; for there were Many Silange ones to be seen in the little mining strike ot Cascade City. Saloons, dance-houses, and gaming-hells flourished at every hand, and, in some instances, the three oc- cupations were confined to one building. This is generally the case in most of the Black Hills towns, Cé e City also now boasted of a ieal theater which was a large frame shanty, and was designated as ‘*The Home of Mirth.” The performance gener- ally consisted of negro minstrelsy, a few grotesque- ly-mounted farces, and a blood-curdling alterpiece. Into this establishment Photograph Fhil paid his way, in preference to whiling away his leisure in the saloons, which furnished the only accommoda- tions for “children in the wilderness” or “ green- ies”? and “ tender-foots,” as all new-comers to the mines were unceremoniously dubbed, unless they were “veterans of the cradle.” Passing inside, the young oe rapher managed to obtain a seat, although the place was packed. He was not a little surprised to find the perform- ance of a less immoral nature than that of many of the Eastern variety -halls, and after he had thorough- ly enjoyed a part of the programme he left the oe with the intention of returning alter getting a. reath of fresh air. But an event unforeseen prevented his return. Just outside, he was touched upon the arm by @ young female, poorly dressed, with a bit of shawl over her head in place of a hat. ‘“‘ Please, sir, would you be so kind as to give me a few pennies? Mother is very sick—brother was kill- ed last week, and we have nothing to eat, nor no money.’ It was a plaintive, childish voice, even though the speaker was full-sized—very pretty, both of face and form, Photograph Phil thought from what he could see of her in the gloom, which retiected from the theater. ““What is your name and where do you live” he asked, eying her keenly ; for, though young in years, he had grown worldly wise, and knew of the decep- tion practiced upon the unwary, even in the wilder- ness. “My name, sir, is Millicent Vere,”’ the girl replied, after a trifle of hesitation. ‘‘ We live in a cabin down the gulch.”’ “Thank you. If you will permit me toaccompan ou to your home, 1 will willingly give you aid!” hil said, get “If I find that you are worthy of assistance, I shall gladly render you any assistance in my power.” ‘You are very kind, sir, but I would much rather you would not come—at least not yet. Good-even- ing—excuse me, for the intrusion— ‘But, say, 1old up!” Phil remonstrated, rather authoritatively. * Jest don’t git in a hurry.”” And fumbling in his vest pocket, he drew forth a roll of bills, and thrust them into the Oct beggar’s hands, “There you are, miss—guess there's enough to keep you from starvation awhile. ‘Sh! no words about it, now—just salt onto it and bounce. When I give a charity layout, I give it, you bet, and don’t allow no back talk, neither, begging your pardon all the same, for my rude speech. ‘Take the money, freely, and go on your way, ate ‘+ But—but, sir, you are rob ing yourself—you—”’ “Git out!’ the Boy of the Feriod said, with a chuckle. “* pts that’s nothing—1 am rich.” “+ Anyhow, I thank you very much,” Millicent Vere said, gratefully, “I shall try to rep Basar Pefore I go will you tell me to whom I am indebted?” ‘They call me Photograph i hil, miss. As for be- ing indebted, get out!” Millicent bowed, with a murmur of thanks, and turning hurried away, swiftly, down the gulch, She presently emerged into the moonlight, and the boy stood gazing after her, noting with appreciative eye her gracefulness, and trim, willowy form. “IT told her I was rich!’’ he muttered, ‘‘and sol am in a superfluity of tongue, brains, and cheek, I believe. But certainly not in gold, when the money I gave her constituted my whole fortune, with the exception of a few silver pieces. But, shaw! that hundred dollars will make their hearts dladder than it ever could mine. Photograph Phil has been too long a waif of the world, to iear starvation, when short, a few. Ho! hum! the next thing is to look: out for a place to lodge, to-night.” i He was about to turn up the street into the main part of the town, when his sharp ey€ caught sight of « mething lying upon the ground, just where Milli- nt Vere had stood while addressing film. | He stepped forward, and upon examination found to be a piece of paper. mgs would have passed bys but not so with the Boy Sleuth, — e had long since eng to regard trifles as the ‘oretaste of greater things. _ His father and grandfather had both been detect- ives, and the profession & eared to be hereditary. for it had descended to Phil in the shape of a pro Gomichboo (E artist had, in the meantime, wandered (S.com. | | } | . .