Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 963 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

a oy ‘Lapel ail Se aA a 2 ee noe _rying one night about the hour of dusk. He was clad in the blue uniform of a city mes- Senger boy, and his general air and manner were at once alert and confident. The high, old-fashioned houses there had steep roofs. with dormer windows and tall steps of stone, that were iron railed. There were areas, also railed in, and windowed basements. Suddenly the front door of one of these houses was opened and a boy was violently pushed out. Then the door suddenly closed and the messenger boy heard the lock Snap as the key was turned on the inside. The strength of the push sent the boy seur- down the steps and bumped him against the messenger, who slewed him around and steadied him on his feet. ‘** Hello, country!” cried the blue-clad lad. “Take a hold on yourself! Is that the Way you generally come out doors?’ **N—no. He—he choked me, then he give me a push,” stammered the other boy, Whose garb and air were decidedly rustic. “Durn it all! What am I going to do?’ “First thing, suppose you stand aside and let me get on. Got a message for the Equitable, ninth story. So long, country! Better skip back to your mother!’ “Say! See here. Uncle Eben has just turned me out without a cent. I never was in New York afore. Durn it all! Can't you tell a feller where he can git to stay to-night? If you was down my way in old Mizzoury, I'd ’a’ asked you to stay all night without airy a hint!’ * Well, you are a jay!’ the messenger boy laughed. ‘Go chase yourself around the block. If you don’t make up your mind to try Uncle Eben again, there is a police station on the next street.” The city lad then neatly dodged the other and sped away at a half-trot, regardless of the entreaties sent after him by the country lad, who, indeed, appeared to be at his wits’ end with fear and bewilderment. He stood on the pavement for some time, de- bating within himself as to his best course. Finally he walked around to an alley that ran from one street to another at the rear of the houses. Halting at a back-yard gate, he peered through a knot-hole in the fence. The rear windows of the house were all closed except one, though the night was warm. This was an upper one. A dim light, as of a candle, shone here, and the form of a young girl was flitting about within. “Jennie said she was going to the gro- cery,’’ muttered the boy to himself. “I wish she would come on. She don’t know that I am fired. I would like to let her know. Perhaps she might tell me where to go. That blue-dressed feller is like all the rest here. No one don’t care for any one but hisself, as far as I can see. Hello! I reckon Jennie must be coming. I'll get back to the front door.”’ As he slipped out of the alley a heavily- - built, shabby-looking man dodged behind an ash barrel until the boy had passed. Then he slouched up the alley and peered through the same aperture by the gate through which the boy had looked. Meanwhile, the latter, hurrying around, met a girl of fourteen descending the steps, with a “basket on her arm. “Oh, Jennie!” cried the Missouri lad, running up to her. “ Uncle Eben turned me out. He wouldn’t let me stay, nor give me any money, and now I don’t know what to do. Can’t you—you loan me a quarter to get a place to stay all night?” The girl looked at him suspiciously. His coarse, ill-fitting clothing, his awkward manner and total unfamiliarity with city Ways, were not prepossessing to a sharp. _ ¢ity-bred girl of her stamp. — “ Your name is Rube Rawlins, you say? hag __ The Ea Hast: shit Spotter. . Rube Ra a from own nephew to “Right you are. Pike County, Mizzoury, hiben Rawlins, of New York city. But Uncle Eben don’t seem to believe me, though I told him all about father, who is dead. Father and Uncle Eben came from Vermount. Father went West, where I Was borned. Un Eben went to New York, where wwe gon he made ae sight of money.’ “You mustn’t believe all you hear. Mr. Rawlins is mighty close. He don’t pay me more than half what he ought, for I cooks, sweeps, and makes beds, and runs er- rands, and does all the marketin.’ How does he know you are his nephy 7?’ “Why, I told him so. I told him, too, about father’s dying in the Hannibal poor- house, and telling me to come .to New York. ‘Uncle Eben will give you a lift,’ said he, ‘for my _ sake.’ tut Uncle won't have nothing to do with me, and all mniy money is gone, and I don’t know what in the nation will become of me. ‘’Deed, I don’t!” “Well; what is all this to me?” manded Jennie, with some rudeness. * Nothing, much; only—I—I thought, if L had that quarter, | wouldn’t have to go to the police for a place to sleep,” “That is what I eall nerve.’ Jennie’s red lip curled, then Rube’s drooping, help- less air suddenly appealed to her pity, “But, after all, you don’t look fit to be out in these streets by yourself. Here is a dime and a nickel. I ain’t got no quarter—that is, of my own. The old man gives me just enough to buy~ what we eat, and he sees to it that I don’t waste a cent. Now skip, Rube that is your name. I’m in a hurry.”’ Jennie was off like looked at his windfall, then hurried away in an opposite direction. A hulking news- boy had watched Rube and Jennie and noted the transfer of money from the girl to the country lad. He began to shi dow Rube, edging up closer gradually. “D’at kid ought ter be a good graft,” muttered. ‘Wonder how much he outer d’e gal?’ Rube wandered aimlessly along toward the upper Bowery, looking for lodging- house signs. He had already learned enough of city ways to be aware that he must find a very cheap place, and perhaps go supperless if he avoided spending the de- a flash. Reuben he got night on the’streets or at the police station.. At a crowded corner he stopped and again looked at the money, holding: it in his open palm. Then he was suddenly jostled from behind. At the same instant a dirty, dexterous hand snatched the change from him, as he pitched forward into the gutter. But Rube Rawlins was game, despite his city greenness. Recovering, he saw the back of a lad about his own age disappear- ing amid the hurrying throngs of workers now hastening to their homes. “By mighty!” he cried. “ I'll ketch that feller or bust a trace a trying. Hey, there! Stop him! He’s got my money!” The people, however, only looked’ or laughed as Rube plowed his way through them with eyes eagerly fixed on - the fleeing thief. Around another corner, up a side street, into an alley, through a court, and finally out into another large thor- oughfare did the boy from ‘Pike County, follow the possessor of his coin. He was not to be shaken off. Double and twist as he would, the street gamin found that he had met his match in speed. : Rube did not know enough to cry “Stop thief.” Therefore those who happened to notice the running boys gave little heed. And now Rube was gaining. He did not. know where he was. All he at. present wanted was to lay his hands on the an who had served him such a mean trick. * $ 2 ** Now—du cneyeP? panted | ‘the hardened and. strengthened at the — handle, inside the collar of the thief. me back my money, or I'll mash your mouth!” : * Pow—wow!” ‘The newsboy had turned like a flash and planted two stinging blows in Rube’s face. But the effect was only to anger the country lad yet more. He gripped the other-in a relentless embrace, tripped and fiung him heavily in genuine Pike County style, then sat on him and began a choking process that speedily aided the fall in bringing the foe to terms, *Gim’ me my money! Drat ye! Shell it out, I say!’ “Oh, Lord!’ gasped the newsboy. “IL only wanted it to buy papes. I’ze broke, 1 is., Dad’ll do me up, he will, if I don’t sell no papes.” “ You oughtn’t to steal my money,’ said Rube, half relenting. “It is all I had, too. I hain’t got nowhere to go, either.” “Yer is ye’r scads.” © The handed over the dime and nickel. lem me up. Got no place to go, seen yer Was a country bloke. Well, d’en, why don’t yer come along wi’d me? I'll show yer Where to sleep, and ye’r mun’ will do to buy grub wi'd. See?” ‘TI don’t a I ought to trust you— yet—’ Rube gave way undér a feeling newsboy ‘* Now that he was aredier: and if a lodging could - felt that some — * Well—go on.. be procured for nothing, he supper would be in sight. I'm bound to make this fifteen cents go as far as I The newsboy linked his arm in that of Rube and led the way into a slummy re- gion that grew dirtier and more suspicious- looking as they advanced. Rube at last re- fused to go further. *T don’t like the lodks of this,” he re- monstrated. * Come on! claimed his conductor. de place.” * What place?” began Rube. Don’t be such a mug!” ex- *We'ze ’most to Then some thrusting a large, bony hand that had petee plow- Dp Gi’ » eh? -u one or something sprang on the country — boy from behind, while his conductor tackled he victim from the front. CHAPTER TI. THE FIGURE IN THE CHATR. Rube Rawlins fought like a tiger, but even tigers succumb to great odds. In- stead of one adversary, he now had three, The thief had artfully drawn the country boy on until he had a chance to signal some of his own gang. The assault was made at a dark, deserted spot, and Rube’s chances of preserving his money were very slim. One lad held him around the neck, another grasped his legs, while the third forced his hand open and again eXx- tracted the coin. Then Rube was flung into the eutter — sr with at force, while his foes fled. By the time he had picked himself up he real- e ized that they were beyond reach. “Durn it all!” he ejaculated, as he’ te made his way to the nearest street. wish I was back in Mizzoury. Times . might ’a’ been hard there, but I never was” robbed, nor wanted for a place to eat and— sleep!”’ He wandered about in an aimless way | for, perhaps, half an hour. His limbs | ached, and he was bruised. in more than | one place, , At a certain street corner he looked ~ ee about in some astonishment, for he sa that he was at the mouth of the ing to the rear of his uncle’s hates: _ ee alley ce Gar | sudden resolve made him swallow what yer : ust go bac g Jennie for . bite to eat,” he ee more than say no.” ** She can’t baat ag So he made his way uD the ie 8 that a f : Vt . ; : ° “ . ; s . . ; G | (" . | , } G ~ i 4»! : z 7 * _ * Sete - oo oe ' ee : S . ev "ty Pe ¥ aise i ° « &, “ > I «4 ye