Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 887 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

_ _ win in spite of everything. SS Battery Bob. the Pvneir little game it will be cause I can’t put it there. See? Ill be the dose, too, and don’t you forget it. 1 have got it in for them fellers, big as a fire-hoss.” ‘“They deserve jt, Bobby, they deserve it.” ‘‘And they’ll get it, yes, they'll get it, where the chicken got the ax,” the young dock-rat sung, merrily, as he moved away. Bob returned to the stand of the cakes- and-candy woman, to find her in something akin to a towering rage. ‘‘“Why, what’s the matter, Betsy?” he asked. “* Matter enough, matter enough,’ was the snapped response. ‘‘ I’m bein’ robbed, that’s what’s the matter.” “* Robbed ?” ‘Yes, robbed! and;¢that right before my very face an’ eyes, too. Do ye see this bro- ken cookie, Bobby? Do you see it? What kin I do{with half a oookie, I would ask ye?” ** Give it to me, Betsy.” ““ Well, take it, an’ welcome; but that don’t mend the fact that I’m bein’ robbed, a I have stood it as long as I’m a-goin’ to, 00.” ‘Who is the robber, Betsy? Tl try my detective talent—” ‘‘ You are a goose, that’s what you are, a good-for-nothing, silly goose! ho would the robber be, but the policemen, hang ’em— that there Terrence McDougal in p’tic’lar.” ‘What? Terry around this mornin’?” ** Yes; he ison split-trick to-day. And this makes pn seventy nine cents the police owes me, and never a penny of it will I receive, and Terrence McDougal is the worst of the lot. Every time he comes along he must take a cake or a candy, ora piece of one, and what kinI do?” ‘* You need a protector, Betsy, that’s what’s the matter. Nowif you only had Jack Tarr for your husband—” , ‘*Don’t you mention no Jack Tarr to me just now, I warn ye, ferIam in no mood to ear it. And with a wooden leg—never, no, never! 1’llgo unprotected all my days first!” ‘But, Betsy, that wooden leg would come into play. Jack could remove it in a jiffy and lambaste a copper over the head in a way that would make him wish he belonged to the street-sweepin’ brigade, and they would- n't re monkey with your cakes and candy, ? € * * You are a worse goose than I took you to be, Bobby, really. You are almost as bad as Jack Tarr himself,” ‘*He’s no goose, you bet, Betsy. He's a man of brain, is Jack Tarr, and J won’t hear him run down, evenif itis you. He’s my friend, is Jack, every time, an’ I will stand up fer him.” ‘‘ Yes, yes, I know he is, Bobby; I didn’t mean it.” . “But, Terry has got to leave your cakes alone, if I have to take a fall out of him my- self. You don’t like him a bit, do you, ware 78 ‘‘ Like him? I hate the very buttons on his coat! Anybody that will steal a cookie from a poor widdy-woman is nothin’ but a common thief, an’if I dared I’d like to tell him so to his face.” ‘But you do like me a little, Betsy?” “Well, well, you are the worst goose I ever did see! Of course I like you, Bobby.” ‘And you wouldn’t want to see Terry Mc ; et pic Dougal beat me at anything, now would ou?’ ‘Bobby Dickery, I’d give every candy and cake I’ve got in stock before I'd see any. thing like that.” _ “YT thought so; but, I have gota bet on with Terry, and Iam afraid he is goin’ to Guess I’m done up, this time.” 2 ~ “Yes, I bet him that you and Jack Tarr would get married, some day, an’ he bets -_- you never will and as you are determined to ‘ f ‘ / | 2 a OR RN RD OER ET “REET o> tee na RE rT Ee RR - . ‘ stand off the way you do, it looks as if he would beat me.” ‘Serves you right, that’s all. Serves you jest right. Haven’t I said many’s the time that | wouldn’t never marry no wooden leg? What was you thinkin’ about, anyhow, Bob Dickery ?” ‘“[ thought maybe you would get over your *bjection—” ‘‘ Never, long as the world stands. If Jack hadn’t no wooden leg, then I’d marry him for the askin’; but as it is—” She shook her head, “Then it is allup with my bet, and Terry wins,” 3 ‘*it serves you right, for you knowed he was bettin’on a sure thing, But, if Jack hadn’t no wooden leg—”’ ‘No use talkin, about it any further, Betsy; my bet is in the soup, you bet, and the policeman that steals your cakes is going to win and I am going to lose. No use cryin—” ‘*T only wish—” ‘Don’t mention it, Betsy, I beg of ye. It was my own fault, an’ I don’t blame you. Say no more about it. Say, has any young lady been here askin’ for me this mornin’?” ‘Nice young lady, good-lookin’ an’ right up to date.” ‘‘No, there ain’t been none sich here, Bobby. What in the world do youhave to do with a young lady?” ‘* And there ain’t none sech to come, like this one, you bet, Betsy. Gave her m ‘dress last night. and she said she’d ca around and see me some time. If she does come, put her on my track, will ye?” ‘‘Of course I will, if you tell me where ou will be.” ‘*T ll be ’long the docks all day, and if she don’t sight me at one she will at another;” ‘“ All right, Bobby; Vl tell her, if she comes; but I’m ’clined to believe it is only some of your fooling; there is so much.non- sense bout you.” ‘‘ No foolin’ this time, Betsy; I mean business, from boots to hat. She’ll be here, sure as shootin’, an’ when she comes you just put her on my track and I'll be a heap obliged to you.” CHAPTER VIII. BOW DIVES STILL DEEPER. Bartery Bon went off whistling in the direction Terrence McDouga: had gone, and presently sighted that gentleman. ‘‘Hello, Terry, what are you doin’ around this time o’ day?’ he demanded, in his cheery way. “¥ou are a night owl, and you ought to bein bed sleeping at the rate of ’steen knots an hour.” | ‘Ha! is it you, Bobby? Bad luck to it all, my vy: it is the dirty split-trick Oi am doing, and Oi wish the divil might <: awa wid it. It breaks a man all up, to lose his rest loike this and have his meals all mixed up so that he don’t know where he’s at.” ‘‘'That’s so, Ls'pose. Havera bite 0’ cake, Terry?” He offered the half he had just received at the hands of Betsy Sokup. ‘“‘ Yes, Oi don’t mind, Bobby, b’y. Where did ye get it? From Betsy Sokup, Oi be bound.” “You are right. I lifted if as I came along, seein’ it was only a half, but I don’t care for it. IfI did you wouldn’t get it.” ‘Oi bel’ave ye, Bobby. Oil bet it is the half of one Oi took meself as Oi came along there a few minutes ago. The old woman has good cakes, on me soul she does, Oi like ’em.” ‘“And she ain't stingy about ’em, nota bit, either, I think it pleases her to have ’em sampled by the finest, Terry,” ‘She never says a wurred whin wan, anyhow, if thatis a sign.” ‘What more do you want?” ~ , “. - ‘ Dock Detective, --- —-- Oi take Battery Bob joked with the officer for a time, and then parting company with him, went on his way to one of the docks where a boat was about due to land, ““Tla, ha, ha!” he went laughing to him- self. ‘fl have got my scheme working in great shape now, sure enough. Didn't know there was so much plannin’ in my punkin, I bet there will be a weddin’ before the moon wanes.”’ And he laughed again, very plainly tickled pat something he considered to be a huge joke. It was an hour later when a young woman accosted him, as he was loitering on the dock of the Long Branch boats, ‘‘Is this Robert Dickery?” she asked, lay- ing a hand on his shoulder, ‘‘Robert Dickery, Esquire; yes, ma’m, that’s me, every day in the week an’ all day Sunday,” Bob answered. ‘You know me?” ‘Funny if I wouldn’t; you are Edith Allen that was—Mrs. John Barr that is. Oh, yes, I know you fast enough.” ‘‘ Ha! that is proof that you found what you set out to look for. Where is the paper? Give it to me, and 1 will reward you, my little man.” Bob drew a rather wry face at this in- tended compliment—calling him a little man, There was rebirerge?, about that phrase that sounded babyish to his plebeian ears, and he did not relish it. | ‘‘Please don’t call me that again, if you want to pull stroke with me, ma’m,” he gave notice. ‘‘I don’t like to be little-man- ned by ang beers Had rather you would call me Battery Bob, straight from the shoulder. That's the name I am floatin’ to the breeze,” The oe woman laughed. ‘‘ All right, Battery Bob; I’m glad you told me,” she said. ‘‘I won't offend you again in like manner. But, the paper?’ ‘Thereby hangs a tale.” What?” ‘‘T] want to chin with yea little bout that very dockyment, ma’m,” said Bob, serious- ly. ‘‘I want to see where the light-house aniae, before I go a sailin’ too far out from ore.” ‘* What in the world can you mean?” — ‘‘ Let’s go over here an’ sit down, an’ Yl tell you. Folks will think you are waitin’ for friends by the boat, so it will be all right. Needn't be Ehanied to be seen in my com- any.” Bob led the way with all confidence to a baggage truck that was standing idle, and the young woman had nothing to do but follow. | She joined him and there was nothing out of the usual about her condvct; so no one noticed her particularly, ‘* Now, tell me,” she requested. ‘Well, I got the paper.” “T knew that, when you called me Mrs. Barr, That is now my name.” : ‘‘ And I knowed it when I gee the paper. That is all straight, so far. Now, who is this John Barr?” , ‘* My husband, of course,”’ ‘‘T’ll score one to your credit,. a’m. What I mean is, what kind of a man jis he?” ‘Really, you must tell me what you are— driving at, aren Bob, You can’t expect me to answer your questions unlesss you | do,”’ 3 ‘We'll come to an understandin’ by ’n’ by. I take it you don’t know where your hubby is. 1s that straight? Have I got the right hawser over the right post this throw ?”’ . “Mercy, but I dont know what you are talking about. It is true that Ido not know. where Mr. Barr is, however. know?” / I know where heis,” ‘¢Then tell me.” ‘* And what will you do?” “That's jest what I’m ta.kin’ about; yes, | ’ j on Fe : . ' hee \ L 7 e > ¥ x ’ 2 er ¢ - * d , ¥ . * AL: Sel ~~. Se z - alt! ~* @e-) ee : Ee wa. pyr AS RP ad iL 3 vo~ » | E |] y 3 ~ , ~e | 7 r| | | | - | } | ~ . — J! ha < - . : *%. . i ¢ ; oe , ; A ' r ry . | y ) fl (| | ‘ \(