Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 292 — page 20: what you’re looking at

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. 20 Moke Horner, the Boss Roustabout. and for that reason among others, he kept as close to the edge of the river as he dared. If weet came to worst, they could enter the aw i For fully a mile they made the best of their way up the river, and then the woman gave out, sinking in her tracks from sheer fatigue. ‘* Leave me—I can go no further!” she gasped, painfully. Moke did not immediately reply. He was peering keenly down the stream, and as the sounds of their footsteps died away, he caught the sound of a lusty shout, and knew that the men in the yawl had paused to gain a more definite idea of his whereabouts. ‘*Hellow!” he shouted, making a funnel of his hands and giving a roar that caused the woods to echo again. ‘‘ Dis way—up de ribber! I all yight! 1 ride de rabbit-foot up to de Water Witch—tell um you on de yoad a-com- in’! Turning to Rose Enright, his voice soft and soothing: ‘We got plenty time, missy. Dat boat fin’ mighty hard pull up de ribber when it on de boom like now. Dar won’t be too much ’tarch in dey backs when dey git to de eend—no in- deedy! Dey des as fur below us as dey was when we’tarted, an’ while dey pullin’ up dis way, you tek good yest; den we tote ‘long faster den dey kin pull, easy!” “Tam afraid not, my good friend,” she mur- mured, her voice faint and despairing. “I have been ill—I am not strong—and I have nothing to live for now!” ‘““Now don’t, missy—don't /” gently expostu- lated the honest negro. ‘* You too young to fink ob dyin’—heap too young! De good Lawd he ain’t done call you yit, an’ you don’t look so wicked es to fly yight in de face ob He bressed will. An’ den fink ob dat young lady you ’peak ob—fink ob your husban’ what you talk "bout back dar—” ‘Tt is because I cannot help thinking of him that I am so willing to despair and die!” impul- sively cried the wretched creature, so beautiful so young, yet so unutterably miserable and beart-broken. **Mebbe you dream it all,’ gently suggested the Boss Roustabout, ‘‘ Mebbe you walk in you’ pay 4 8 an’ jump in de water. Dat mus’ beit! I nebber gwine fink dat Marse Mareus so mighty wicked es to hu’t sech a nice lady!” Rose leaned forward with an eager light in her eyes, and her voice was much stronger as she cried: * You know him? ‘You know Marcus Din- eon?’ “Deed I does, missy! What puzzle me, is bow you know him?” ‘‘Heis my busband. He loved another lady, and the affection which he once vowed to me, has turned to bitterest hate! He wanted to get me out of his pray in order to marry her, for she is as rich as she is lovely. I saw them talk- ing together on the hurricane-deck—I heard him pleading for her love—and when she left him, I rushed to his. arms, hoping in my mad folly that the sight of my face—the knowledge of my overwhelming love—would drive all evil fancies out of his mind and turn him once more to me!” “You dead suah it wa’n’t no dream?” per- sisted Moke, ‘*A dream?’ with a bard, hysterical laugh. “If I could only think so! I try, but it all comes back to me so plainly—I can hear each cruel word and bitter taunt ringing in my ears as though they were but now uttered! And here, on my temple, you can see the mark of his heavy band! Ay! he struck me senseless, as though I were a mad-dog instead of his true and loving wife, then hurled me into the water!” ‘* Whar Moke foun’ you,” nodded the roust- about, “ Would that you had left me there!” sobbed the woman, her unnatural energy dying out as rapidly as it had risen, her head bowing upon the clasped hands that rested upon her lap. ‘“Missy,” said Moke, speaking earnestly; ‘‘you mek mistake somewhar, dat suab an’ sar- tin! Eider you dream all dis, or else you’ Mar- cus Dingeon ain’t my Marse Marcus!” Lifting her head, Rose stared wonderingly at him, “You was des sinkin’ de fust time when I hit you undak de water, missy, an’ dat show ae enuff dat Iin de big drink nigh de same me you git dar. Now see dis, an’ mark it well; when I jump in de ribber, my Marse Marcus Dingeon was in front de boat, leanin’ ober de cabin-deck gyards! I tek oat’ to dat, missy, on rabbit-foot or on de Bible!” For a brief space there was silence, then with a ora is ** You may be right. I remember now that he—my busband—swore that I alone knew him as Marcus Dingeon; that he had assumed the name ofahatedrival— Merciful Father! Ican see it all now!” she gasped, her pale face mites with horror as the truth flashed upon her in al its enormity. ‘“‘ He is even more evil than I be- lieved in my wildest fancy!” uc“ — $e | | An’ so does I see!” exclaimed Moke, the be- boy to you. Don’ you magic. ‘I knows now why Marse Marcus git bounced! lt was you dat went to de young leddy an’ show de paper dat made her fink Marse Marcus you’ husban’!” ‘‘ Yes—I visited Miss Drusilla Ward—” ‘* You tell me dat as we go’long,” hastily in- terposed Moke, as he saw how rapidly the yawl was approaching their present position. ‘De boat git in ahead ob us, ef we don’t min’, an’ den | mebbe de Water Witch pull out fo’ we ketch Without giving her a chance to expostulate, Moke stooped and lifted Rose in bis muscular arms, holoing her as carefully and comfortably as he might an infant of his own, striding swiftly up the river-bank, ‘* Now, missy, you tell all how it come ’bouf, an’ mebbe we ’trike bottom yit,” he coaxingly uttered as he proceeded. After a brief hesitation Rose complied, tell- ing her sad story without reserve, while Moke listened without a word of comment, Indeed, the poor fellow had little breath to_spare, de- spite his really remarkable powers. Though by no means a large or heavy woman, it was no contemptible feat to carry her over that tangled trail through the dark, at times wading knee- deep in mud and water. And more than once the ebony atalete was force to pause for breath, It was during the first of these that Rose En- right broke off her narrative to entreat of him a sacred pledge: ‘Promise me this, and I will bless you! It may be that I will find it impossible to warn the lady of the plot against her. Promise me that you will see her and repeat my story to her. Tell her to beware of him—for he will spare her no more than he has me, when she has served his selfish ends,” And Moke promised, taking the wonderful rabbit-foot from his pocket, kissing it reverent- ly, then making the sign of the cross over his heart, And Rose was Satisfied. Let what might befall her—and she felt that she was doomed never to meet the lovely young woman who had unwittingly caused ber such bitter grief and unmerited suffering—Drusilla would be saved, . Still on the gallant negro labored, bis broad chest heaving, his breath coming in husky gasps. But vever once did he think of giving over the task he had set bimself. Steadily on through the night, at times stumbling, but never allowing his helpless charge to suffer harm or injury—still on, to utter a hoarse niutter of thanksgiving as the bright glow of the fire-crates on board the Water Witch burst upon his vision through an opening in the woods, ‘Dar she am, missy! An’ we beat de yawl, des as I tole ye we would! Whoop-ee! who say ole niggah ain’t good fo’ nuffin’?” Gently he lowered Rose to the ground, fur- tively brushing the great drops of sweat from his throbbing templ>s, ; “T thank you—I Lonor you, my dear friend!” brokenly uttered the agitated woman. ‘I thank you for saving my life, ig and worth- less as it now looks to me. I will bless and pray for you.as long as that life evdures!” ‘“Now dow’t, missy—fo’ de good Lawd’s sake, don’t !” muttered Moke, with a sheepish grin as she pressed his horny hand in both of hers, then bowed her head over it, “It makes ole niggah feel like he jump yight out he skin, or do somefin’ he didn’t ort—it des do! It wasn’t me—ef you mus’ fank anyfing, des’ gib it to de rabbit-foot! On’y fo’ dat bressed hoodoo, we nebber git heah—no we des couldn't !” Her mind was sufficiently clear to see that ber thanks were really painful to the modest negro, and therefore said no more on that point. And as she anced toward the not far distant boat, she shuddered and grew sick at heart, He was there—the man she Joved, yet feared more than death itself! Should he see ber! And how could she gain the inside of the boat without his knowledge? It seemed impossible. ‘‘ Now that we are here I dare not attempt to go aboard! He would be sure to see me, and I would rather die than meet him face to face, remembering his awful crime!” “Dar, honey, des you leave it to ole Moke,” soothingly uttered the Boss Roustabout, who had busied his brain for the past hour in devis- ing some plan by which this difficulty might be overcome, ‘ Ole niggab ain’t much ’count, but he smart ’nough to frow dirt in he eyes, apy- way. Des you leabe it to him, an’ sorter spunk up you’ ’pirits ’g’inst de time comes when you mus’ play you’ part. Now do, honey! Des try /” With a violent effort Rose partially conquered her fears, and as they leisurely walked toward tbe boat, Moke made known the part he wished her to play. “You see dem big rank o’ wood ober dar? Well, you des go an’ slip dar in de darkest shad- der you kin fin’, when we git up Cluss enuff, You wait yight dar ontel Moke come to you wid somefin’ fo’ w’ap you’se’f up in, head an’ years. Ef de crowd so noisy an keep too cluss to Moke, as mebbe dem will, I sen’ a peert yalla it skeart ef you see @ildering fog clearing away as though by him comin’ place ob dis ole ‘coon, but des do as eo eee he say an’ leave de rest to us. You do dat, missy ?” ‘If you think best,” she faintly replied, though she trembled in every limb with dread at having possibly to run the gantlet of thos suspicious eyes. 1 “It de only way I see,” muttered Moke, scratching his bead in the vain endeavor ty elicit a more promising scheme, ‘‘ It boun’ t wu’k all yight ef you do desso/ Dey all teh you fo’ woman want to git out ob de obabfilo fore it git too late, an’? when Moke dar cuttin’ up he monkey-sbine, dey won’t fink twice o lookin’ at you, long’s you keep dat boo’ful face all kibbered ober cluss wid branket. Dar—keep in de shade, an’ nebber fear but what it all go des yight, honey!” Leaving Rose thus, Moke shouldered a pile of cord-wood and suddenly darted out into the line of slowly toiling negroes, shouting Boer ys ‘Jim “long Josey! Wake up, you brack nig- gahs an’ white snails! You gwine fas’ as’eep *ea’se dar no mate heah?” CHAPTER XVII. MOKE TRIES TO FIND BOTTOM, For one breathless instant the roustabouts stared at the ebony athlete, whom by far the greater portion firmly believed had gone down to his death in the mad Mississippi. Then there was a wild ‘‘scatteration ” ainid wilder yells. The loads of cordwood went flying in every direction as the rousters, particularly the negro portion of them, fell away fiom the—as they supposed—ghost of the Boss Roustabout. Bnie fled blindly, tripping over obstacles and falling headlong, to lie kicking wildly as they yelled in terror or spluttered out all sorts of prayers and invocatious. Others, too great- ly terrified to flee, stood like trembling statues, staring at the wonderfully natural apparition with eyes that seemed about to pop from their sockets, with teeth that chattered and clicked like so many pairs of nimbly manipulated cas- tanets. ' And even among the whites, were some who showed almost as great superstition, falling rapidly erry from the grinning negro, drop- ping their burdens or grasping a stout stick with which to defend themselves, Taken all in all, Moke Horner must have been very hard to suit if this dramatic entvee did not prove all he could wish. “Hos! back dah to wuk, you fool’ niggahs!” he cried, in a tone of virtuous indignation, ‘© Dat ’e way you shirk an’ play ole sojer when Moke gone, he ’tick yight by de ole Water Witch fom dis time on! Nebbah tek nudder swim fo’ good ob he helf, “less you sw’ar ha *tick to business bettah dan dis! Jump into line dah, you rousters! Hump you’se’f, now! Tackle dat woodpile an’ chaw it yight up an’ nebbah ’top fo’ spit out de splintahs till de ole tea-kittle is a-b’ilin’ an’ cuttin’ de muddy water in two slices wid her nose! Buckle down to it, you bressed sinners! Wha’ fo’ you top to tek nap on de gang-plank, you yed-headed Ivisher? I mek you fink de ho’n of ole Gabr’el done bu’sted wide open yight in de slack ob you’ britches ef I ebber sling dis yer gun-boat at ycu! Mus’ I come wake you up? Oh, fo’ somefing like a set ob men who got too much life in ’em fo’ not let de moss grow a yard long on de bottomis ob dar hoofs!” Moke bad skipped swiftly down the gang lank and dropped his load of wood on the pi bators the furnaces. Then, halting in the full low of the fire-crates, one band resting on bis ips while the other, armed with a huge club, swung vehemently in time with the words that rolled so glibly off his tongue, he auda- ciously mimicked the mate when at fever heat, copying bis tones, actions and favor- ite expressions with a fidelity that was in- stantly recognized not only by the roust- abouts, who were rapidly recovering from the consternation into which his sudden and wholly unexpected appearance had cast them, but by the passengers above, who had been drawn from watching for the reappearance of the yaw, by the wild uproar among the deck ands, to say nothing of the captain, who was but indifferently filling the place left vacant by his accomplished mate, ‘“‘De—good—Lawd!” shouted Yellow Jack Tandy, flinging up his battered old het and breaking into a clumsy dance for pure joy. ‘Bf it ain't Moke Horner he own se’f, den Ia bressed angel des come down f’om heaben in a han’-basket—I des is /” ‘Moke, you black rascal!” cried Captain Miles, coming down the steps at a rate that was far more dangerous to his neck than it was graceful, ‘‘ where the deuce did you come from, and how did you get bere? Where’s ths mate?” The Boss Roustabout touched his forelock and scraped the deck with one foot as he bobbed bis head, grinning half-sheepishly, half-waggishly. ‘““You know I tote de rabbit-foot, Marse REE Cc **T know that I’ll be eternally blessed if ever’ I tote you on another boat, so long as I keep my senses!” angrily spluttered the captain, ‘**‘ What in blazes did you jump overboard for? we haven’t anytbing to do but tie up to wait for you to go in swimming?" comicbooks.cor