Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 292 — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

| See Moke Horner, the Boss Roustabout. 21 ** Please, Marse Cap’n, I fink dat dirty Irisher tek some ob you’ money wid him when he tum- ble obabbo’d, an’ I go to fetch it back ag’in,” rinned Moke, yet with a wary eye out for reakers. De-pite bimself, the captain was forced to :augh at this shrewd hit. He knew that he had een betting freely on the prize-fighter before Joke gave Purty Paddy that terrific fall, and i@ knew now that Moke had recognized his voice. Naturally good-natured, he could no .onger maintain the stand he had assumed. In truth, he secretly felt proud of the ebony ath- lete, who could fight an ugly adversary one moment, then risk his life to rescue him from death the next. ‘“Where’s the boat? back in it?” ‘*It comin’, Marse Cap’n—des back a little way, now. I holler tell de mate dat [ tell you he comin’, Moke knowed dem lazy niggabs wouldn’t wuk wuf a cent, long’s bofe Marse Devilin’ an’ he was out de way, so I des jumpon ole rabbit-foot an’ come up heah a-skootin’ fo’ hurry git de wood abo’d.” A shout from the burricane-deck told that the yawl had turned the point, and instantly nearly every passenger rushed to obtain a view, and Moke was left alone for the moment. Knowing what tortures Rose Enright must be enduring through this protracted suspense, and fearing lest she should allow terror and dread of her crnel husband to drive her to flight through the night in that tangled wilderness, he grasped Yellow Jack Tandy by the hand and hastily gave him his instructions, wasting not a word, barely bidding bim- procure as clean a blanket as possible, and take it to the spot where he would find a woman in waiting. Bewildered, yet retaining sense sufficient to literally follow orders, Tandy obeyed, in the wild confusion that attended the reeornition of the Boss Roustabout by his comredes, finding no difficulty in passing through them with the blanket rolled under bis arm, without being questioned, Moke played his part to simple perfection, drawing the excited hands aside while he gave a brief sketch of his exploit, though, of course, saying nothing about his rescue of the woman, and while be was thus keeping them in play, he saw Rose Enright, closely wrapped in the blanket, glide swiftly down the gang-plank and aboard the steamer. So far as he could tell, not a single pair of eyes save those glittering in his own head, had noticed her movements. “ Dar—we talk de yest ober when we git mo’ time,” he hastily uttered, breaking away as a loud shout answered back the cheer of the passengers on deck. ‘‘De mate a-comin’, an’ you dat don’ want to git a red-hot Devilin’ a*buzzin’ ’roun’ you’ years in sobah airnest, bet- ter be tacklin’ dat woodpile mighty peert, now I tole you good |” And so Mate Devlin found them, led by Moke Horner, whose musical voice poured forth one of those wild, weird songs so dear to the heart of the Mississippi river boatmen, the entire force of deck hands following with the refrain. For one moment the mate glared savagely at the Boss Roustabout, one hand gripping a heavy club, but then the captain touched him on the arm and quietly led him to one side, What passed between them, none save them- selves ever knew, but certain it is that Mate Devlin never assailed Moke Horner with tongue or fist or club on account of that long row. And bis voice was strangely subdued as he or- dered the massive gang-plank drawn in and the fasts cast off. Then, puffing, quivering from stem to stern with the mighty strokes of her machinery, the good Water Witch once more breasted the swift current of the mad Missis- sippi. Moke Horner and Purty Paddy met when the crew gathered in their quarters, but the Irish- man only gave the black a sullen scowl as he poe then drew apart with his mate, Teddy uke. They whispered together in the dark corner, On what subject is readily enough di- vin Moke found that it was pleasant to be so lionized by his fellows, though even this was not without its drawbacks. His brain was busy with the parang adventure which had be- fallen him that night, and with the still stran- ger story which the betrayed wife of the false arcus Dingeon had poured into his marveling ears. He knew that the genuine Marcus Din- goon was also on board the Water Witch, and e was plotting and planning for a chance to meet him where they could converse with- out fear of being overheard by the unknown enemy. At length Moke broke away from his mates, and passing up to the cabin deck, entered the office and doffing bis hat, quietly passed along to the bar and asked foradrink. While the bar- keeper was waiting on him, the Boss Roustabout glanced keenly around the office, and catching sight of a tall, soberly dressed figure, whose eyes were concealed by heavy green goggles, he made a peculiar motion which was answered by an almost imperceptible nod from the clerical looking pamenee Hastily swallowing his whisky, Moke left the Why didn’t you come en ge ce ae Lm a. TOMS) OF GM LS 1 SE RSA oS I MOSM He Ce... se eS a a ee —Ea _—— snunttetnseniitt-astiadtieeremnineemmmnto office, and instead of immediately returning to his proper quarters on the lower deck, he passed around the guards in the direction taken by the man with the goggles, ‘* Well?’ whispered a guarded voice in his ear. ‘‘ You want to see me for something, old fellow?” **’Deed I des does, Marse Marcus,” as guard- edly replied the Boss Roustabout. “Ef we kin git whar we talk ’out nobody ketchin’ what dis niggab got to say!” ‘Come to my state-room, then,” replied Mar- en da he it was, alive and in the esn. Gliding silently along the narrow passage, the young lawyer opened the lattice-work door which led into his state-room from the side guards, and Moke followed him, There was no light burning in the confined space, but through the open transom above the door opening into the gentlemen’s cabin, light sufficient entered for their purpose. No sound came through the thin partitions at either side and after listening intently for a few moments, Mareus Dingeon correctly c»ncluded the adjoining state-rooms were unoccupied just at that moment. It will be remembered that when Moke Hor- ner, in company with Yellow Jack Tandy, drove off the assassins in the street of New Orleans, as detailed in the closing lines of a previous chapter, he recognized the prostrate man asa former benefactor, and though he be- lieved at the time that Marcus Dingeon was dead, be impulsively slung the supposed corpse over his shoulder and took to flight with bis bleeding burden when the alarm given by the police startled him. He feared that if discover- ed by the corpse, he would be arrested and charged with the murder. This fear, with a certain reluctance to leave the <n, of his benefactor lying there in his gore, led Moke to carry the young lawyeraway. The police were distanced, and when he gained his quarters, Moke found that though severely wounded, Mareus Dingeon was still alive, Fearing to trust any white phvsician with the secrets of that night, Moke called in an old negro doctor, bribing bim heavily to keep a close tongue be- tween his teeth. nd with Moke as nurse, re- lieved at intervals by Yellow Tandy, Marcus Dingeon slowly recovered. His wounds were very severe, and for full two weeks be hovered between life and death. For the most part of this time he lay like a corpse, only for bis faint breathing; but there were times when the fever of delirium entered him, and wild words fell from his lips. Moke listened closely, and though there was much that be could not understand, he discovered enough to know that his benefactor was sorely troubled on account of one Drusilla. He also spoke of Horace Ward, and during his relief- spells, Moke spent much time in trying to get at the bottom of his patient’s trouble. Thus it was that Mareus Dingeon failed to keep his 79 Bilge ey to meet the wretch who, ric a tool in a band that was still more crafty and unscrupulous, charged him with such base treachery. And thus it was that, when his senses returned and his powers of body and mind began to revive, Marcus Dingeon learned of the intended removal of the Ward family. He also learned enough to feel sure that Horace Ward would refuse to grant him an interview; and thus it was that he disguised himself and went aboard the Water Witch as a nger, Moke and Yellow Tandy having shipped as roustabouts. “If you talk softly, there is no fear of our being overheard, Moke,” said the young law- yer, turning to his colored ally. ‘‘ What is it? What have you discovered? Or is it only to tell me how you managed to escape from drowning?” The Boss Roustabout looked very solemn, very sober as he suddenly drew the precious rabbit-foot from his pocket and held it up be- fore the startled young man, ‘*Marse Marcus, you know what dat is?” ‘** Your rabbit-foot?” queried the young man, half-smiling. “Yes sar—de rabbit-foot!” and the tones of the negro were almost sepulchral in their ear- nestness, “It mighty fetich, Marse Marcus. Great hoodoo man made him, an’—” ‘*T know—you have told me its whole history time and again,” a little impatiently. ‘Surely you didn’t come here just to repeat that won- derful tale, did you?” ‘You fink it all fool’ nonsense, Marse Mar- cus, I know dat. Sometime you fink dif’unt, mebbe. Sometime you know dat no man kin tek he oat’ by de rabbit-foot an’ tell a he dat will stick like de trufe! But let dat go fo’ dis time. **Marse Marcus, you ain’t married? You ain’t got wifeon dis boat? You ain’t see her dis night, and den boost her obahbo’d?” Swiftly he asked these questions, keenly watching the face of the astonished young law- yer, whe sharply replied: ‘*Certainly [am not married! Whatdo you mean? Man alive! are you drunk—have you gone crazy?” ‘** No, Marse Marcus,” slowly replied the Boss Roustabout; ‘I ain’s drunk, ’ca’se I only tek one glass whisky dis night. I don’t fink I gone crazy, ’ca’se I tote rabbit-foot allde time. But I des know dis much: my ole brain tangled up an’ got mo’ curly kinks init dan ebber you see in a niggah’s woolly head! I des don’t know what to fink, an’ I cain’t tetch bottom, nohow!’ ‘‘ What made you ask me such ridiculous questions, then? Surely you have some sort of reason tu give?” ‘‘ Marse Marcus, heah’s de rabbit-foot. I ax you, hum’ly, an’ meanin’ no ’fense, will you tek oat’ on dat? Will you swar’ on de rabbit-foot dat you ’ain’t nebber got no wife in dis worl’? Dat you nebber bin married to boo’ful white sad? Dat you didn’t walk wid her dis ’denticle night up dar on de harrycane-deck while dis niggah was thumpin’ dat fool’ Irisher in de bows? Will you cross you’ heart dat you didn’t git boppin’ mad at dat lady—you’ wife—an’” unch her ober in de drink? | ax you, solemnly an’ hum/’ly, kin you swar’ all dis on de rabbit- foot dat I hoie upafo’ you’ two eyes?” With increasing bewilderment Marcus Din- geon stared into the owl-like visage of the negro as he slowly, ec yver'! put these questions, for a moment inclined to think the negro was playing a stupid joke on him, then half-convinced that his usually well-balanced brain had been turned by his sudden immersion in the mad Mississippi. But both of these ideas were as rapidly dispelled as he looked keenly into those earnest eyes, and he knew that Moke Horner was in sober earnest. As the shortest method of getting at the real facts, the young lawyer caught the rabbit-foot from the Lara of its owner, touched it to his lips and then drew it in the shape of a cross over his left breast, ‘*T take the oath, Moke,” he uttered, with forced solemnity. ‘‘I swear that I am not guilty of any of these crimes. If I had a Bible here, | would make still more solemn oath.” ‘‘Bress de good Lawd! I knowed it! I knowed Marse Dingeon wasn’t none ob her Marcus Dingeon—deed an’ double-’deed I des did, honey! I des Knowed it all de time!” laughed Moke Horner, noiselessly doing the double-shuffle on the carpeted floor of the state- room. ‘* Then what do you mean by all this infernal nonsense?” a little angrily demanded the law- yer, grasping his arm, The lips of the Boss Roustabout parted in a wide grin, preparatory to giving a full expla- nation of his strange conduct, but it was fated that Marcus Dingeon was to remain still longer in ignorance of that which so nearly concerned his welfare, for a sharp outcry from the gentle- men’s cabin startled them. Almost instantly there followed a sbrill cry of mortal agony, and Marcus Dingeon flung open the door and darted out of his state-room, followed by the Boss. Roustabout. CHAPTER XVIII. SHAKY JOE DRAWS TOO OFTEN, By a certain coincidence, which will seem less remarkable when an explanation is given, in due time, there was still another passenger on board the Water Witch who had played an important part in the Ward-Dingeon affair, pparently business bad greatly improved with Captain Joe Baldwin since the day he sat in the library of Horace Ward, waiting for the coming of us Dingeon, for he was now clothed from head to footin anew ‘‘ rig,” besides wearing one or two more rings on bis white, smooth bands than he ordinarily did, Still more convincing roof, he seemed to have plenty of gold in his pockets. Though be must have known that Horace Ward and his sully were aboard, Shaky Joe made no attempt at disguising his face or figure, probably because that, with one afflicted so peculiarly, would be labor spent in vain. He could not disguise that terrible shaking and twitching of his nerves, After all, why should he try to avoid the notice of the rich merchant? The tale he told still held good, unshaken by the lene proof, The only man who could possibly refute his elaborate edifice of lies, was dead and food for fishes, long ago, if any dependence was to be sein in the report of Purty Paddy and Teddy e. He had honorably waited until the specifed day before cashing the check preserted him by the merchant— because he could do no otherwise. It was with this—so he stood prepared to swear in case the necessity ever arose—that he rigged himself out as a gentleman and paid his passage — to a more congenial clime. As has been hinted before, Captain Joseph Baldwin was a gambler by profession, and few faces were better known along the mighty river than his, At that day, few men traveled up or down the Mississippi who objected to card play- ing for money or sport, and not many who had serious objections to taking a hand im a game with professionals, All men went arme! on their travels, and considering the im#ense- emount of card-playing done, there we sur- prisingly few cases of flagrant cheat®g on reco There were then comparatively fewOf those cuoning devices in existence by whia prefes~ (¢ cS cor ~ comvicboo