Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 106 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

| | ‘ly exhausted and sore in eve A, ‘*T’'d hate to sp’ile that purty face of yours!” he exclaimed. **Tt’s lueky for yees that y° have no purty face to be sp’iled,” she rejoined. “Tf ye wasn’t a woman I’d lay ye out!” “The man never stood in your shoes that could do that same, do ye mind?” ‘¢ Here’s for ye, then.” And Dooney commenced the attack with a vigorous crack at the woman’s head, but she parried the blow dexterously, at the same time with a peculiar thrust peating down his guard and then the process-server got a blow between the eyes that knocked him down as if he had been shot. The peasants yelled; it was as pretty a stroke as any of them had ever seen, but, although the lick was a hard one yet the process-server had a head like iron and he was up on his feet ina second, apparently not hurt in the least, al- though the blow had made his head ache. ““Yecain’t do that ag’in!” he cried, through his clenched teeth, fearfully enraged at being thus discomfited by a woman, “Thry me an’ find out!” she cried, in scorn. ““T kape this stick expressly to dust the jackets of process-servers, gaugers an’ sich like dirthy blaggards.” ‘*Oh, Dll murther you now!” Dooney howled, as he rushed at the Amazon. His intention was good enough, but, for once in his life, the process-server had met an antag- onist who was more than his match, Dooney’s fierce and angry blows, although delivered with all the skill that he possensae, were parried with the greatest ease by the man, who seemed to have a wrist of willow and an arm of steel; and the moment the process- server paused in his attack, winded, completely out of breath, she took the offensive, and Dooney could no more parry the blows that she rained down upon him than he could fly. Every second stroke told. Whack, whack, whack! Loud sounded the blows on the air! Never was there a man in this world who had his jacket better dusted—never a process-server as well tamed, since the days of great Brian and Clontarf, The peasantry were delighted; men, women and children screamed with laughter, and some were so overcome by merriment that they threw themselves on the ground and rolled over and over in their glee. Dooney grew weaker and weaker; he was jfairly being beaten black and blue; and by a ‘woman, too! A double disgrace. { Oh, murther!” he yelled at last, complete- limb; ‘*come an’ help me! Itis kilt I be! ill ye hold on? I’m bate entirely. Do you want to kill me?” But the enraged assailant never relaxed her efforts, while the unfortunate process-server danced about like a monkey on a hot plate. The constables could bear it no longer; al- though it seemed really ridiculous to think that the strong and cunning MacDarrow couldn’t hold his own against a woman, yet it was ve evident that he couldn’t, and that he was ge ting a most unmerciful beating; so the whole six, flourishing their sticks, came rushing up to the assistance of their leader. The peasantry their blackthorns and to join in the row, for they were not : ed to stand tamely by and see the woman who had thrashed the process-server so glorious- ly, succumb to overwhelming force; but their assistance was not needed, for, as the six came rushing to the attack, the woman, who had evi- dently kept her eyes about her, with a well-di- rected blow stretched the process-server out flat as a pancake, stunned and senseless, thus com- pletely disposing of him; then she faced the constables, and in less time than it takes to tell the story, she stretched one after the other on the ground, as fast as they came up. The strokes were delivered with marvelous quickness, and the lookers-on fairly held their breath with wonder as they gazed upon the sur- prising exhibition of human skill. And, as fast as the constables rose to their feet the woman floored them again; no two ever got upon their feet at the same time, It took just about two minutes for the Amazon to thrash the whole party, and at the end of that time the woman stood the victor of the field, with the vanquished men stretched around her on every side, some of them disabled—stun- ned like Dooney—so that they could not renew the fight even if they desired to, and others laying possum, and ener. to be stunned, faving had all the licks that they cared to re- ceive. And now the eee of horses sounded on the air and interrupted the scene. ‘The sodgers! the sodgers!” the cry went up from the lips of the ntry up the road And, sure enough, advancin from uad of mounted yoo av- Ballinahinch was a , coming on ata brisk trot, evident! ing perceived the fray from a distance and being a to take part in it. t the head of the troop rode a powerfully- built young man, dark complexioned, with jet- black, curling hair and a erispy silken bene of the same hue, (‘5 ’ eee ee ee ee ee ro a Shamus O’Brien. i ee This was Captain Desmond Burke, the sole remaining scion of the old, reckless Burkes of Twelve Pins, and the deadly enemy of the gal- lant young trishman who had risked so much for the green isle, Shamus O’Brien. CHAPTER V. A FORTUNE-TELLER IT Is! THE troopers were so near and coming on 80 fast that if the Amazon had any idea of attempt- ing to escape by flight, a single glance would have shown the folly of trying so to do, The peasants fell back in great disorder. Desperate Désmond Burke was feared by one and all, and they cast anxious glances at the bold woman who kept her position menacing with the stout blackthorn twig the fallen men whom she had s0 easily disposed of. Apparently she had no thought of flight or ear. ‘‘Lie still, ye murtherin’ blaggards!” she cried. ‘‘Glory to St. Patrick! here come the sodgers! Ow, ow! now ye’ll all be kilt entirely! It is hanged, drawn and quartered ye’ll be, be- kase 7 all piled on me, a poor, weak, unpro- tected widdywoman, ye black-muzzled, black- hearted thaves of the wourld! Oh, lie still, will ye!” she cried, suddenly, with a vigorous shake of the “‘nate”’ little stick at one of the consta- bles who manifested an idea of getting up. ‘* Lie still now, I tell ye, or ll fetcb yea crack on the head that will make ye see more stars than there isin the blessed sky, ye bandy-leg- ged, squint-eyed blaggard!” The man instantly laid down again; he had had all he wanted of that vicious stick. By this time the soldiers had arrived on the scene. As we have stated, Desmond Burke was in command of the party; he was accompa- nied by his second in command, Lieutenant Plantagenet Smithers, an English sprig, who hod lately purchased an estate near Burke’s place, and who affected to consider himself one of the notables of the county. The lieutenant was a thorough-going English- man, extremely affected, very fond of boasting of his noble ancestors, and, to use the Jrishism —‘*a gommach ” generally. **Descended in a straight line, you know, from that Baron Hector de Smithers who came over with William the Conqueror,” he was wont tosay. ‘“ You have heard of Baron de Smith- ers, of course. He was a regular first chop sort of a fellow, you know, standard-bearer, or look. ed after the king’s horse, or attended to the baggage—the treasure-chest, you know, or something of that kind. Ive pa the de, because it is so common; a deuced lot of fel- lows who couldn’t really tell whether they ever had any grandfather or not add the de to their names now, you know.” Now, Smithers was right about this; he could tell who his grandfather was, for the fame of Smithers’s patent oil blacking was world-wide. Wherever the conquering Briton planted his banners, from the frozen north to the sultry jungles of India, thither went the advertising agent of the industrious house and the com- mand: “ Try Smithers’s blacking—take no other !” ap ed at every convenient spot. 6 grandfather made a colossal fortune; the son set up for an independent country gentle- man; and the ndson, our es leuten- ant, traced back his ancestry, thanks to the money that ‘‘ Smithers’s blacking” made, clear to William the Norman! ‘‘Hallo! what is the meaning of this?’ Des- mond asked, in astonishment, as he reined in his horse and surveyed the field of battle. ‘““By Jove! the old gal has floored the entire battalion!” the lieutenant cried. ‘¢Tt’s these murtherin’ spalpeens!” the virago howled, at the top of her voice. ‘‘They’saulted me, a poor, lone, unprotected widdy, an’ if it wasn’t for this bit_o thy ieee I happened. to havein me fist, it’s kilt I'd be now, entirely!” Desmond by this time had recogni the rocess-server, Dooney MacDarrow, who was ust beginning to recover from the senseless condition into which the “bit of twig” had placed him. ‘‘ Why, it’s MacDarrow!” he eried. The process-server was a trusted tool of wild and desperate Burke, of the Twelve Pins, and many a dirty piece of work had he done for the ‘“masther.” ee rer honor, thatis the b geest blaggard of the lot! cried the woman; ‘‘ hang him, me lord, hang him to the nearest tree an’ Ili pull ee. rope to choke him, the curse of Cromwell on The process-server having recovered his senses rose to asitting posture and felt of his bruised and battered head in a way and with an expression that was really laughable. “Shall I knock him down agin, me lord?” cried the woman, flourishing the stick, much to MacDarrow’s discomfort, “For the sake of Heaven, captain, save me from this she-devil!” he exclaimed, i og FS ‘ ie bate me black and blue from head ee ‘‘An’ who struck me furst?’ exclaimed the Amazon, placing her arms akimbo in an ex- tremely defiant manner. “I’m as dacent and as poreens a woman as you will find from here to the Bloody Foreland, but no man that walks on tin toes shall bate me without my puttin’ in a lick for luck. Bad gran to yees, ye ugly- mouthed blaggard! For two pins Ta knock them two weeney eyes of yours into wan!” ‘Hold your tongue, woman!” cried Burke, angrily. ** [ won’t spake a wourd!”’ “How did this happen, Dooney?’ the captain inquired. “ T’ll tell yees all about it!” cried the Jezebel, at the top of her lungs. ‘“‘It was that ugly, black-muzzled thafe—” ‘“Will you keep quiet?” thundered the cap- tain. ‘‘T hav’n’t said a wourd!” replied the woman, in a rage. ** Now, Dooney, explain!” ‘An’ if yees do be afther tellin’ any lies—” the virago shouted. ‘‘Some one of you shove a bayonet down her throat if she opens her mouth again!” Burke commanded. A couple of the soldiers aparrsd their horses toward the woman but she flourished her stick in an extremely warlike manner, ** You'll shove no bagonet down my throat, do yemind!” she howled, indignantly. ‘‘ Bad ’cess to the sow] of me fut, I kin bate the hulls of yees, bagonet. or no bagonet, :f ye’ll come up wan by wan! I’m Peggy McCarthy, the rag- man’s daughter, an’ all J ax is a fair field an’ no favor!” “ By Jove! I'll back the old gal!” cried Smith- ers, who, like a true Briton, never could resist a chance to bet. ‘‘Give her a fair show, Des- mond, and I will lay you five to three in ponies that she cleans out thé whole entire command!” ‘‘Yerself included, me high cock-a-lorum!” retorted the woman. “ Faix! I wouldn’t ask but one crack at the likes of yees!” ‘““By George! I wouldn’t let you crack me with that club for a hundred guineas!” the lieu- tenant replied. ‘‘Go ahead, Dooney!” the captain ordered. By this time the constables were on their feet and had assisted the process-server to rise, He needed assistance, too, for there was not a bone in his nace that wasn’t sore from the drubbing. ‘Tf ye lie about me I'll whale ye!” the wo- man muttered, with a savage glance at Mac- Darrow. ‘If she opens her mouth again prod her with a bayonet!” Burke commanded. One of the soldiers half-raised his weapon as if to be all in readiness to obey the order, but the Amazon placed herself in a defensive po- sition and shook her stick in an extremely dex- trous manner, ‘‘ Yo stick that bagonet into me an’ I’ll take the hull nose off of ye—do ye mind!” she yelled, defiantly. ‘* This is the cabin of the widdy O’Brien, you know, yer honor,” MacDarrow explained, ‘an’ I war afther serving the process according to law whin the dure opened and this woman came to the fore, an’ I ax her perlitely to come an’ l’ave me put the bill on the dure—” ‘To the divil I’ll fling yer perliteness!” cried the woman, in a high te of wrath, unable longer to keep quiet. “If ye had tr’ated me like a lady, which J am, bedad! born an’ bred I would have come out as quiet as a lamb, but ye went to bullyragging me likes asif I was a gallows-bird, an’ te ye well to tache ye manners, ye hoss-thafe! He sthruck me furst, me lord! Yis, yer honor, he sthruck me furst, bad scran to him! an’ I leathered his jacket for him! I bate him worse than Paddy did the drum, an’ I kin do it ag’in; an’ I will too if he oo cross-eyed at me, ye red-mouthed gouger, e ‘Is that so, MacDarrow? Did you strike her first?’ the captain asked, extremely puzzled, and unable to comprehend how the woman suc- ceeded in not only thrashing MacDarrow but all his force. . Tf he says that he didn’t he lies!” the bei- e declared. ‘I sthruck at her,” the process-server admit- ted, ‘‘ but sorra a wan of me blows a8 much as grazed wan of her illigant red hairs!” ‘Ye lie, ye villain! Me hair is not red—it’s auburn! It’s blind ye are!” ‘‘She wouldn’t come out of the dure, an’ what was I todo?’ Dooney continued. ‘I couldn’s affix the notice with her in the way.” “Tf ye had axed me like a lady—” the woman began, but the process-server could restrain himself no longer. | “Ax ye like a lady, ye old harridan!” he cried, “I'll have the hangin of ye y 3 ie you mind that? Bad luck to your dirty elbow, it’s lame I’ll be for a week!” i ‘Aha! ye’ll’aye a poor widdy woman alone next time, I’m thinkin’!’’ the virage retorted, triumphantly, ‘ Ye had no respect an’ tinder consideration for me sex an’ I weltec yee bit to tache ye manners.” ‘What is your name?” asked the captain. ‘Peggy McCarthy, yer honor, long life to e,” the woman answered, with a low courtesy, ‘I’m a fortune-teller, yer honor; cross me hand with silver an’ it’s a beautiful fortune I'll tell ye!” <€om choo . S. a ee