Beadle's Dime Library, Vol. III, No. 29 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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‘the Tiger that he had gone as far in this direction as -he could. Dick was a diplomat, and knew better than to lose his power, by coming to a dead-lock in anythi . He shrugged his shoulders indifferently. Put it in another form,” he said; ‘‘I don’t stick forany particulartrump. Do you have any idea that the governor would sour on your little game, if you put in your bid for the calico?” “I have no reason to think that he would oppose our marriage,” “That's satisfactory. As for your private reasons, they are neither here nor there; they won't influence the game. A whim, a fancy, what youwill, But an- swer me this—if you choose to marry this girl six months hence—can you do it?” “I see nothing in the way of it.” “ And she is heir to her grandfather's stamps?” “Together with her brother.” “Hey! her brother?” “She has a brother.” “Only one?” “Only one.”’ “ And how old?” “Twenty-two or three.” “ Powell—Powell! Is this the cad?” Tiger Dick drew a crumpled card from his pocket. The center of his straight brows was drawn down until they formed an obtuse angle, and his thin nos- trils quivered with suppressed feeling. ‘ - That wondering at is his name,” replied C the agitation of the Tiger. “ And this fellow is share the fortune with the future Mrs, Beaumont. By the way, about how much may it be?” **Say two hundred and fifty thousand.” Cecil's eyes glistened, and his tone became more confidential, as he discussed old Mr. Carrington’s ac- cumulations. Tiger Dick leaned across the table and spoke in a low, concentrated voice. =. | say, pard, have you any particular love for this A look of hatred darkened Cecil’s brow. It did not pass unnoticed by the Tiger. He spoke still lower, and his eyes read Cecil Beaumont’s soul. ““Pard, we want that money, and we're going to have it. This bantam must stand aside!” It was as if a flame had darted from his eyes and pierced Cecil to the heart. He started back, with a shudder and a thrill that blanched his cheeks. _The Tiger shrugged his shoulders and laughed lightly. Si Oh not that way,’ he said. “It won't do in this of the country, only as a last resort. We'll try air means first; but we must have the money!” Tiger Dick thought a moment, and then looking up, said: , Rs Of what stamp is this fellow? Is he anything of a rt?” Fite is about like other young fellows of his posi- tion in society." ** Drinks?” “* Moderately.” ““A fool. Does he ever play any?” “Not that I ever knew of.’ “ Plays billiards and bets at horse-races, of course.”’ “IT know an instance of his having won a bet.” **Co-rect! That’s the first hand.’ igen Tiger Dick meditated. Presently he spoke. “T met him in a buggy, with a young girl with - black hair and black eyes—a very queen. Who es 9 nat no particular person by your descrip- tion,” Cecil; but his words were belied by a wave of passion that shook his frame and drove the color from his lips. er Dick’s eyes read his face. sp !” he thought, “* here’s a gay young bantam secretly engaged to a fair damsel. ithout any ap- parent reason, he scowls like a pirate at the mention ef her brother's name; and then gore n in the face over the unreco, description of some other Duilcinea seen in the brother's Acar nay : Tiger Dick's face did not reveal the Shacovery : but the put this and that together, and arrived very near- WV No he i on to any one?” pursued the Tiger “We nas aoe all the cards in the enemies’ hand, to play a sure game,” ‘ot that I know of,” replied Cecil, in a choking voice. “You transparent idiot!" thought the Tiger; but Pe, P ug ; * Look-a-here, pard, how does our fledgeling get his beer-money * “He has a salary of a thousand a year, as clerk in the bank.” “Pugh! That don’t keep him in shoe-strings.” — suppose he contracts debts, like others of his “And trusts to luck and the governor’s good-na- ture to pay them. I sa ese young y, pard, when bucks begin to devote their stamps to charitable pur- oe to pare the claws of the tiger for in- on get mighty desperate, sometimes.” “ Billy Saunderson must make the tance of this infant, and show him the sighte THe tn his innocence, tries conclusions with Tiger Dick, which is step one. ‘Give a dog a bad name,’ you know.” * Yes. peter “Pard, do you shove as nasty a quill as you used to, in the good old days?” $ r, ‘I write as well as ever,” eg Cecil, beginning to see the drift of the other's plan. “One question more. What kind of an old gent is this grandfather? Does he go in heavy én honesty being the best policy, and all that sort of thing?” “He is unusually rigid in his notions of strict in- tegrity.” *[ thought so. They are all that way, after they so old that they can’t steal any more themselves. sup , now, he’d throw overboard a fellow that, ata lone of momentary forgetfulness, should gs somebody else's name, fasten of his own, to a lit paper with dollars and cents on it? ‘*He would cast off his own son for suchan act.” “Or, better still, his grandson?” **Or, his grandson.” 7 ‘* Well, let me prophesy a little bit—I sometimes in- dul¢e in that sort of thing. A certain young gosling is drawn into bad company. In due time a Chicago bank pays a draft for, say five hundred, purporting to be drawu by Messrs. Powell & Co., bankers, * which Beadle’s Dime Library. the same’ they never drew. Evidence of having imi- tated the signature of Powell pere is found in Mr. Fred’s desk. His associations are ventilated. What so likely as that he should get hard up, and raise the wind somewhat irregularly? As it is all in the fam- ily, of course no exposure takes place; but he is sent away for his health. Grandpa is outraged and changes his will. The cashier weds the object of his devotion. At the death of the aged progenitor, your humble servant pockets a huntived thousand, or such matter, and waltzes off to Europe, while the sorrowing grandson follows the bent of his peculiar enius with the rest. Do you think such a prophecy 8 at all likely to come true?’ wee leaned across the table and extended s hand. ‘Pard,” he said, “ put it there! Will you chip in® this pool?” Cecil hesitated. ‘It’s a pity to break the heart of that little angel with the black hair and eyes, if she has got her pile on that particular Jack; but every one must play his own hand in this here little game, eh, pard?”’ The Tiger spoke with his Bercing eyes on Cecil's face. At mention of the black hair and eyes, Cecil flushed, then paled, aud setting his teeth hard, grasped the Tiger’s hand. PART 1I—-HUNTED DOWN, CHAPTER I. THE DECOY DUCK. Tiger Dick sat with his heels elevated on the table, sipping a sherry cobbler and glancing over the morning paper, A smile played about his lips, as if his thoughts were amusing. ““Gads! how the Prince squirmed,” he said, half- aloud. * *‘Ha! ha! I flatter myself that that hand was well played. Well, well! better a live mouse than a dead lion. Had I settled old scores in the most approved fashion, his carcass would have been worth nothing; but now I have him in my breeches- ete and trust me I'll squeeze the shiners out of “Dick, you old tiger, in your old age you will yet stretch yourself in the golden sun e of pros- perity. You have tempered righteous indignation with common sense. ead of coming on the ouage with blood yo, oe you a as a diplomat. Bowling wisdom down the alley of self- interest, you have made a ten-strike worthy of your e us ” a this point his soliloquy was cut short by the opening of the door, It gave admittance to a young man dressed in the extreme of fashion, with silk hat tilted on one side, mustaches waxed and drawn to a point, flaming i ee aa ag ho showy babe get pag and whalebone cane, loade at the end with a ball of lead in a network of wire. 9 Howdy, ole man?” was his ting. “Squat,” said the Tiger, p a chair toward him with his foot. Billy Saunderson, for such was his name, seated If on the table and placed his feet on the r. ‘Messrs. Brown & Thurlow'’s book-keeper is al- ways ready for refreshments?” asked the Tiger, touc the bell-cord. “Oh, bush!” Bt Mr. Saunderson, closing one eye and tilting hat onto the back of his head. ‘‘A repairer of old boots and shoes,” he said to the boy who answered the bell; and when the “cobbler was brought, he turned to the Tiger, and said: ** Well, boss, = sent for me?” “Billy, boy, I did. Your noble mission is to let in the light on benighted patent-leathers and kids —to take high-h gents in leading-strings, and display the elephant to their open-mouthed sim- plicity. What a calm joy there must be in seein these tender buds unfold beneath your watchf “Yes, boss; but it takes the skads, you're just a- whistling!” ; ‘To the martyr belongs the crown, Billy. You have the reward of an approving conscience. But among all your flock, is there a lamb called Fred Powell?” “That's where I live/’ replied Billy, with enthu- siasm. ; “ Billy, are you coe the square thing by your friend and admirer?’ How I long to make the ac- quaintance of that tender shoot.” ; “’Sh-h-h!” sibilated mys raising his eyebrows and exten his band, as in admonition. “ What's os —— the Tiger. “‘Is he his mother’s darlin oe * Not that étietty” replied Saunderson; “but an old maid plays the duenna over him.” . “How's that, ? Gads alive! you don't call that ee oe eri ry old maid? Steady, old hoss; ou're the track, sure.” ’ yore hat ha! Fs ope _ mine! eee tex up on the other alley! say, ole man, a to wagging your jaw about black-eyed Peri, eh?” “T . What's trumps, pard?”’ oi your a5? out," persisted N any we pez till la — . “How about the eyes?’ we Drop it, illy, or I'll give you a black eye, s’elp me Bob! “You've seen the Goldthorp, ole man. Oh, no! *¢ an old maid.” ne ot 5 facetious friend,” said the Tiger, who still felt a little 3 yr lg * at ae I ae at; “who tho , pra j eat card. ick nes marked after the or- ome, fashion, by any means. She lives with an uncle,” “ And what's between herand young Powell?” “ They're as thiek as molasses fn January.” “Bn aged?” ‘‘ Not knowing, can’t say. They have very un- generously left me out of their con dence, “Stow chaff, Billy. Has she money? “If salt was three cents a barrel, she couldn't buy enough to season a snipe—and a little snipe, at that!” “And this uncle will leave her—what?” | “T believe those that have been watching the run of the cards are pretty unanimous in the opinion , that he won't leave her, nor anybody else, much of ee - - ~—+---+ ee — —_ Se — _ ee = = anything. But he'll make the feathers fly as long as he’s above ground; and when the king-pin goes, it'll be a ten-strike—all down.” “Um—hum!" said Tiger Dick, his mind going back to Cecil Beaumont. ‘Now you can go on and tell me what you meant by saying that Fred is under the wing of an old maid.’ ‘““Why, you see, a cad by the name of Charley | Brewster is spoony on the beautiful and accomplish- ed Miss Powell, and has constituted himself a com- mittee of one to keep her darling brother out of the company of bad boys.” ‘* With what success?” “Well, it’s kind of up-hill work. You see, I’m quite fond of Fred. He's a gay young rooster, and I'm another, you know. What he exceeds in money, I make up in love, and so we're even, don’t you see?”’ ‘Billy, you'll do to travel. But you must bring him here, my pet. It ain’t an ordinary case. Money is no object.” “Eh?” said Billy, looking up, with interest. ““ Never mind the whys and wherefores; but polka him up to the a rg he office, and hang the expense. You understand?” ‘Oh, yes,” replied Billy, scratching his head and making a comical grimace; “it’s all as clear as mud. _ you've said * Trot him out!’ and trot him out it “That's right, Billy. Be content to pla hand, and don’t go peeping into your neig ““Let up on your paternal advice, ole man. DoI ever interfere with anybody else’s alleyy Nary! It’s all I want to do to keep my own pins up. So endeth the first lesson?” “That's all that’s down in the books.” “Have a cigar. And now, wag.” Saunderson extended his hand and Tiger Dick grasped it. ‘“ By-by!” and the decoy duck was gone. That evening Billy Saunderson stood on the steps of his hotel, picking his teeth after supper, Present- | Pe caught sight of Fred Powell coming down on the other side of the street. “So-long! Freddy,” he called out. ‘Are you traveling or going somewhere? # ‘Traveling,’ replied Fred, crossing over. “I've just got a letter from my ndmother, re- questing an interview at the Dutch Gardens, and I want a protector, Wen’'t you go aleng?” **T shall be pe? giad to see the old lady,” replied Fred, accepting Billy's faceiious invitation to a drive on the avenue, which led to a beer-garden just with- out the city limits. ‘““Granny’s something of a shrew, Fred. Let's fortify our courage before going to meet her,”’ con- tinued Billy, who seldom sai any ce in a straight- _forward way, if chaff could invent a whimsical our own “_* co red laughed and accompanied Saunderson to the hotel bar, where, to use B took their “‘ reg'lar p’ison.” ’ Fred called for cigars, and arm-in-arm they sought a livery-stable, and soon emerged in a dashiug “ vie.” Arrived at the ens, they alighted, tied their horse among a dozen others, and entered. Billy £ | around the room, and then turned upon | oe ha face drawn down with mock disappoint- men **My bosom friend,”’ he said, lugubrious]l vran- ny ain’t here! Suppose she’s ead?” £ | — Seen was 60 comical that Fred burst into a laugh. “Never mind,” he said; “there's one solace for all grief. Come along and imbibe.” They stepped up to the bar, along which were a ranged halt a dozen young men like themselves, eat- _ ing “ Deutsches brod "’ and thin slices of * bologna’ | with their beer, while a dozen more were in the _ room, seated at tables. | Fred and Billy were greeted on all hands, and | were soon in the midst of a roistering set, who, as their io pe 4 attem ted to sing “ yee jolly ellows, all,”’ and *“* We won't ome till morn- " with only indifferent ee é moon was up when the bacchanals set out for the city; and while some went off at a mad race, others jogged leisurely vous Making night hide- ous with discordant howls, by a strange misnomer called singing,’’ said Billy—‘and still they're not happy!” N Mither of the friends were intoxicated when, half an hour later, they entered a billiard-room together; but they had drank enough to feel a genial glow of satisfaction with themselves and all the world; and when Fred espied Charley Brewster, he slapped him on the shoulder, and said: “Hallo, old fellow. Join us in a game of pool, | Charley disented; but there was a grave look on | his face as he noticed that Fred and Billy Saunder- son had been drinking together, **How can I counteract the influence that Saun- derson is gaining over Fred?" he meditated, as the | game went forward. Evidently he must humor Fred, and not let Lim get - so — “% was “looking after him.” & with apparent carelessness, ascer- tained where they had been. ny Meanwhile Billy Saunderson, while seeming en- — “aq the game, was taking counsel wtih his own “Now I suppose that flat thinks nobody sees through his little game,” he thought to himself, with a contemptuous glance at Charley. ‘“ You innocent _lamb, the cards were stocked before you took a hand. Your gentle friend is elected for the green, | sure; but I’ve got to ship-you first.” Billy Saunderson played in such a manner that the | fight was really between Fred and Charley; and _ Fred, being a better player than his friend, came off | victorious, | “Pwon’t do! *twon't do!” exclaimed Billy, with | well-feigned regret. ‘Must have an eye-opener. ie ‘em up again, and I'll jerk along the p'ison in a | “Noth for me, if you please, Saunderson,” Charley ed after him. “Tut! tut!” replied Billy. “I'll trot it out, and then we can pour it down your throat.” ' Come back here and play, and let Johnny fetch it to us,”’ said Fred; but Billy was at the bar chaffing with the attendant, and lighting a cigar. | When the liquor was prepared, Billy took the illy’s expression, they Goim GpoOOoOK 3(Cl0) ——— —_— a pe