Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 938 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

——— ~—= ~ ‘peddlers. evil. . y , We Fk f : . 7 “Who is drunk? smashed the door? Was there an explo- Sion?” Bob was confused and talked wide of the mark, but Jingo Jim was reealted to things practical. He struggled to his feet, and then his own voice broke in. “Git a light! Strike a match an’ we will ketch him.” “Ketch who?” “Why, the man.” “What man?’ * Shoot it!’ cried Jim, in great indigna- tion; “‘will you stop yer eacklin’ an’ strike Mat glim?”’ Bob was awed by this fierce reproof, and. he made for the lamp without more ado. When he found it he made haste to get the light, and, presently, the gloom was dispelled. Jim looked around and then shot out of the door. Bob glanced after him, looked at the broken chair and then back to the door where Jim had been. “ Fle’s got it!” murmured Bob. “Who's got what?’ asked one of the other peddlers. “Jingo Jim is gone crazy.” “You don’t say so!” ce Veo; “What done it?” “He got too rich, and it turned his head. The love 0’ money is the root of all Sudden wealth turned Jim’s head like a wheel. That saddle is ter blame fer it all, an’ I'll chuck the thing out—” The speaker. stopped short. He had turned to look for the saddle, but it was not there. Bob shook his head soberly. ‘‘He must hev’ took it an’ run off. Yes, poor Jim, he’s gone crazy!’ The other peddlers congregated around Bob. Nobody thought of disputing him. They had been asleep and supposed he had been awake. He ought to know what he was talking about. The crowd was not an especially inter- esting-looking one, and their intelligence was not above the level of their class, but they had kind hearts under their dirty clothes, | ‘*Poor Jim!” they murmured, in concert. ‘‘T always thought he was queer,’ added Simon Skiffsky. | “Terrible frivolous, at times.’ “Yes, an’ awful sober when he was’ Sick.”’ ‘Sure sign he was crazy. “We will hev’ him put ina ’sylum.” “Yes, before he kills himself or us.” “ Poor Jim!’ cried the chorus. Just then the object of their compassion came in hastily.’ “He’s got away!” exclaimed the boy, ‘Hut ef I don’t nab him ter-night I will jater on. He didn’t steal that saddle be- cause he thought it was vallerble. There's 99 a mystery, an’ I'll solve it, sure pop!” | CHAPTER II. JINGO JIM INVESTIGATES. The older peddlers looked at the boy in surprise, forgetting for the moment that he sed to be crazy. - ve What's that?” asked Simon Skiffsky. ~ “Gents,” answered Jim, with energy, ‘I tell you that wasn’t no common robbery. Who but me would want that saddle? It wouldn’t sell fer so much as a heektie ter put on a hoss’s back, an’ ’most everybody ‘but me ‘has a pillar. There is a Mystery about this robbery.” | “What mystery could there be in an old, worn-out saddle?” “T don’t know, but I'll find out.” Jim, filled with anger because of his loss, proceeded to thump his fists vigorously on his chest, which brought back the previous - ideas of his associates—that the ‘boy was What |" eden ——= - ™ os ~ has y is PPP AS wy ‘} . The Sport of Two Cities. They fell back from him in haste. “He's gettin’ voylent,’’ whispered Isaac Levy. ‘See the wild an’ frenzied gleam of his eyes,” added Simon Skiffsky. | Jingo Jim had not been expected to be taken for a crazy person, so he missed all this. Suddenly ; “owing sullen, he went to his piece of carpet, threw himself down and tried to compose himself to slumber. His companions consulted. Isaac was for having him put under restraint at once, and Simon thought it might well be done, but Bob was not so foolish. He took the ground that the boy was not yet a danger- ous person, and it would be best to wait and make sure he was to be so before tak- ing radical steps. | This counsel prevailed, and, though Skiffsky and Levy returned to bed with some misgivings, they managed to fall asleep again. Better still, daylight found the whole party alive—Jingo Jim had not made any violent demonstration. The boy was unusually silent during the morning hours, and not disposed to discuss his, loss. What he thought he told to no- body, but went about his business as soon as possible. All day he peddled his leaping kangaroos without evidence that he had other matters on his mind, but when night approached he ceased work ahead of time and took his way home. Disturbances and rows were common in the tenement, and’ nobody had been ex- cited by the events of the previous night except those in the room, but the other peddlers had spread the news, and when Jim reached home he was promptly vis- ited by a stout tenant of Irish blood and the name of O’Brien. She was a woman with a heart as big as her body, metaphorically speaking, and she came with sympathy implanted on her red face. “Sure, Jimmy, be you alive?” she asked. “Yep,” answered James. ' “But yer bones must be all broke.” sé Why cM “The sorry night.” “That was only a scrap.” “ Be yez onto the stuffs that did it?’ és No,.”’ “Watch Denny Stone.” sé Bh di “Watch Denny Stone,’ Mrs. O’Brien repeated, with an emphatie nod. Jim was silent fora moment. He knew Denny Stone. Denny was a boy of his own age, who lived in the tenement, and an old enemy of Jim’s. They had long known each other; they had fought time and again, and Denny had spent most of his leisure time trying to worry Jim. Den- ny was a tough boy, cordially hated by Jim, and well known as the latter’s enemy: ‘““What o’ him?” inquired Jim, after a pause. | 3 “He was out in the crowd when you got that saddle, an’ pretty soon after I see him talkin’ with a sport. I guess the sport was a dealer in second-hand goods, that’s what I guess. While they talked they was on the sidewalk, but they looked up this way often, and I thought then they was talkin’ about that saddle. They knew yez got it fer nothin’, an’ it was just a put-up job ter beat ye out o’ the thing. The sport an’ Denny was inter it. Now you go and git a cop.” “Me git a cop.” “ Sure, an’ didn’t I say so?” “They wouldn’t heed me.” “Me cousin’s brother-in-law has a sister whose best feller is a cop up in the goat eestrict. Now, you say the word, an’ I‘il e inflooence fer ye. We'll hey’ this took ter coort.” + James slowly shook his head. He knew — way they used ye last aa 4 bon " , ; Fee AG _ ts ‘ 7? x . ’ uc | ‘ < ., , : 3. ° policemen of old, and had not fuund them his friends. To him it seemed that they had a special antipathy to peddlers, and he had been more hindered than helped by them. More, he knew the saddle was not valuable enough to engage the attention of any court. “ [ll think it over,’ he finally replied. “Don't think—act!”’ ‘Well, maybe I will.” * Maybes don’t go, nor they won’t make the kettle boil. Jest you take my advice, an’ hey’ them thieves up before the law. They will be took to Sing Sing instanter.” Mrs. O’Brien gave more adyice—in fact, she nearly overwhelmed Jim with it—but, fortunately, she was somewhat pressed for time, and so soon left him to himself. His. mind did not dwell on policemen. ““V’ll bet a dollar Denny’s inter it!” was his comment. “He was not the one who shook me up so. That may have-been the sport. Now I think of it, I believe I did hear somebody else near the door, an’ Denny may have been right alongside the thief. I’ll look ter Denny an’ see w’ot he’s about.” Jim went out of the room and was about to investigate that part of the human bee- hive where Denny lived, when that person himself emerged from his parents’ rooms and started toward the front door. “* Hullo,” murmured James, “he’s got some new clothes,” This was an event. Denny was not a worker, and his parents did not keep him supplied with much better than rags, so the appearance of a new suit gave ground for suspicion, Jim thought. ““T'll pipe him,” decided the peddler. Denny kept on his way, and, leaving the house, walked off briskly. Plainly, he did not anticipate pursuit, and Jim had no trouble in shadowing his game. In less than a minute Denny was in Chatham Square, and from there he walked on until the Brooklyn Bridge was reached, “He will take the promenade,” muttered James. . He was wrong. Denny marched up to the ticket office, disbursed five cents for two green tickeis, and pursued his way into a car. He rede in triumph to the Twin City, while, in the next car back, rode Jim. Reaching the other side, Denny took to his feet and tramped several blocks, when, on a street corner, he was suddenly accosted by a man whose appearance aroused the watching peddler at once. “ Crickey! there’s the sport!’’ Of course the boy referred to the especial sport mentioned by Mrs. O’Brien. There was no proof that he was right in this sus- picion, but Denny surely was in conversa- tion with a man whose looks fitted the character of a man about town. He was a rather decent-looking fellow as far as face and figure went, but had a rakish air, and his clothes were those of a flashy man of questionable character. “ They talk ter each other earnest,’”’ mur- mured the spy. “I wish I could hear ’em. Can I?” There did not seem to be any chance. He might advance close to them, but. Denny was not blind, and would not fail to recognize his fellow-tenant of the Chat ham Square region if he saw him. | “No, I ean't,” he decided. “I’ve got ter keep on the edge. Mebbe I can get onter somethin’, but I guess the odds is agains, it. Say, but they are havin’ a nice little chat. Jest suits Denny Stone, too. He's as sassy as a cOp when he’s round Chatham Square, but now he don’t say a word that’s brash. Mister Sport has him tamed. W’ot did it? Was et cash, or—” The sport had put his hand in his pocket. Now it came out, and he handed some money to Denny. | 1 ee P ™~. s ae ua a eli : - se a 3- - are Sid _ ~ . . > S a | > < 7 ; ~ ~y +2 ae 7 ” >) ide - ao - SS Sey