Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 332 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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24 you can,” said George quietly, having found out all he wanted to know; and then he sat back, when the orderly had gone, reflecting ——_— eet a a, ne rr eee eet Spring-Heel Jack. far off, one nursing a baby, the other plaiting a basket. None of them looked up as he rode in, on what he should do, when he found the | and all seemed to ignore him studiously. Gypsy father, that had come into his life so HERD DRONY He checked his horse at the spectacle; for he had been used to have Gypsies crowd here was some fate that threw Spring | round him when he visited their camps, ask- into my way,” he reflected, ‘‘and made him | ing him whether he wanted his fortune told, my faithful follower. He seems to positive- ly like me, for no other reason than that I and begging. As none of them offered to come near him, beat him at his own game, and gave him a | and there was no sign of a man in the camp, broken nose. I must find his father, and get he dismounted from his herse, and said to him to tell the truth, by some means or | the old woman over the fire: other.” But, the more he brooded, the more doubt- ‘*T see a horse outside, and he looks like a good one., Is it yours? and do you want to ful it seemed, that anything could be done | sell it or not?” with the old Gypsy, who had had a hold on his father. If he could have influenced the elder Howard, he must have had some terri- bly strong hold on him; and what chance had the son of the same man, who knew nothing of the weaknesses of the Gypsy, to terrify him in his turn. . But when he re- membered what John Spring had said about The old woman turned her blear eyes on him, and made no reply but a scowl. ‘Did you hear?” he asked, in a louder tone, thinking she might be deaf. She nodded silently, but went on stirring. Then he turned to the woman with the baby, and repeated the question to her; ‘*] doan’t own t’ horse, It be feyther’s,” his father and mother camping on Hampstead | was the sole reply he received, Heath, he had more hopes, for he. reflected The other young woman looked up from that the Gypsy, in all probability, would be | the basket she was plaiting, and eyed his red poor, and so accessible to bribery, if nothing | coat with a look asif she was interested in it, more, But what had he to offer in the way of a bribe to the Gypsy, if. he succeeded in find- ing him, and it proved the same man? ° All these thoughts were turning over in his mind, as Spring came in with his dinner, and he ate in silence, thinking over what he could do, while the orderly was watching him, as if he had been trained all his life in the duties which he had only assumed a few days before. Dinner over, Howard ordered his horse, and told Spring that he was going for a ride, and that he need not expect him back till night. ‘‘'To-morrow,” he pursued, ‘‘I intend to give you leave to go and see your family; but, in the mean time, 1 want you to stay here, and watch at night, in case that scoun- drel that plays Spring-Heel Jack should come along again.” Spring promised to do what he had been told, od, as his master rode away, he mut- tered to himself regretfully: ‘*’ R's a better man, by far, than the other. If we ’ad it todo hover again, ‘twouldn’t be as tis now.” But he went about his business as usual, and employed himself in cleaning his mas- ters arms and accouterments, while George Howard took his way from the palace, and rode rapidly round the outskirts of London, toward the north, in the direction of Hamp- stead Heath, He had come back from the Tower at noon, and his departure was early, so that, by the middle of the afternoon, he had sur- mounted Highgate Hill, and was entering the heath, keeping a sharp lookout for Gyp- sy fires. He was not very Jong in discovering the opject he sougit; for there was but one camp on the heath, and the smoxe rose in the air, over the low furze-bushes, plain to be seen, about a mile away from the place he entered, As he neared the place he was surprised to see a handsome bay horse feeding loose on the heath; and the shape and beauty of the animal were such that he could not imagine any mere Gypsy could possibly own it Then he remembered what Lady Balcar- yas had told him about Mathias having been a horse-trader and rich, and the idea oc- curred to himthat he might make the horse an instrument to open negotiations with the man. He rode on till he neared the camp, and, as he came in sight, out came running a crowd .of barefooted children, half-naked, dirty, and very picturesque, staring at him yith amazement, CHAPTER XXXIV. MATHIAS SPRING. GEORGE entered the m4 sy camp, and be- held a fire, with a trip which hung a pot, smelling by no means illy. An old hag, with the face of a witch, was stirring the pot, moving her toothless jaws as she stirred, while two younger women, both decidedly beautiful, in the dark style of their tribe, were seated on the grass, not uilt over it, from . dl eee ee He noted the look, and asked her: ‘Well, and can’t you tell me something, my pretty lass?” She curled her lip sareastically. ‘*I bain’t. no pretty lass o thine. We doan't want no moor gorgios xow. We're goin’ to be ryes,* and live in palaces t’ rest. of oor lives.” The words surprised him, but he persisted in trying to make these sulien Gypsies talk a little, to gain information. ‘‘And do you live all alone here?’ he asked, ‘* Noa, we doan’t,” said the girl, in the same scornful way. ‘‘ Feyther’s ‘ere, and ‘e knaws ‘ow to take keer on us.”’ ‘“‘Ah, your father—is his name Mathias Spring, or what is it?” asked George. x The moment he said it, he saw he had made a mistake; for the old woman at the fire called out something in a strange lan- guage, and the two younger ones favored im with a suspicious glance, and remained obstinately silent as they went on with their pecHperons, ‘‘'Then where the. deuce is this Mathias?” he cried impatiently. ‘‘ I want to see him, if he wants to get into something which will make him rich for the rest of his life.” The old woman turned toward him, and her sunken eyes gleamed with avarice. “Ow much wilt give to see ‘im?” she asked, George hesitated. ‘Is he here?” he asked in turn. ‘* Noa, but I can call ’im,” she answered. George drew a sovereign from his pocket. ‘Call him, and this is yours,” he said. She clutched at it at once, running to the side of his horse with an agility. that her bowed frame and shrunken limbs did not promise, and he held the piece away, saying: ‘‘Where is Mathias? You can't have it, unless you call him for me,” She pointed to the little barrel-shaped tent, at the door of which the children were play- ing when he came, and whispered: ‘*°E’s in there; but I dassn't ’sturb ’im. Go thou, an thou dar’st.”’ He tossed her the piece, and went to the tent at once, when he looked in and saw the giant frame of the old Gypsy stretched on the ground, fast asleep. ‘‘ Hallo, Mathias, Mathias!’ he cried; ‘‘wake up, man, for here is a stranger come to see thee. Wake up, I say.” The Gyspy rolled over on his side; fixed his eyes on the door, and George saw, from the stare, that the man had been drinking and was savage in his cups. With a volley of oaths he burst out, de- manding to know why he was disturbed. George saw that his face was strikingl like that of his orderly, though it was muc older, and half-hidden by an enormous gra beard. He remembered the way in ae. he had conquered the son, and thought he would try the same on the father. There- fore it was in tones as rough as those of the Gypsy himself, that he roared. ‘‘Come out, you dog! Don't you know how to talk to a gentleman, when you see ‘* Rye, from the Hindoo Ri. 8 rich man. - <r es ge eo a —. — ee ee ee ee one? Come out here, or I'll take my whip and thrash some politeness into you. Come out, I say.” As he spoke, he shook his whip menacing- ly and the Gypsy cast a glance at him that reminded him of a wild beast under the eye of its trainer, half-savage, half-afraid. ‘‘Come out,” he repeated. ‘I want to speak to you, and how the deuce can I| do it, if you stay in that hole of yours?” ut the Gypsy, who seemed at first to have been dazzled by the light on his eyes, just fresh from sleep, here exclaimed: “I'll coom out, man, and thou’lt wish I ‘adn’t, may be, afore thou'rt done wi’ me.” With that he came out of the tent, on all- fours, and raised before George the frame of one of the finest-made men he had ever seen in all his life. He squared his shoulders, and asked, in a tone about which there was no hiding the menace that it contained: “Well, young whipper-snapper, and what wants thee wi me, now thou'rt here. IWll warm thy jacket for thee, in the shake of a lamb’s tail,”’ ‘‘ Better men than you have tried that. be- fore, Mathias Spring,’ said George Howard, quietly; ‘‘and your son, among others. I gave him a face he never got before, and. he is now a soldier in my company, If you try any of your tricks on me, I'll give you the yb thrashing you ever got in all your ife.” The words were hardly out of his mouth when the old Gypsy squared off at him, ina style that showed much acquaintance with the art of self-defense, crying: ‘“‘An ye walloped John, ye can’t wallop OR Coom on, and I'll doost. thy jacket fur thee.”’ With that he advanced on the young offi- cer, and began a furious assault, that showed he had not boasted in vain, Old.as he was, he had yet the strength of a giant, and George had all he could do to take care of himself, assaulting the other being out of the question altogether. But George, though he had not made prize-fighters his daily companions, was by no means an ignoramus at the art of self-de- fense; and he knew well enough that, if he could keep up long enough, the old man was sure to tire first. | He kept retreating warily for a space, and the Gypsy tried all 4 knew, but in vain, in consequence of the tactics of the younger one, who would not advance to meet him and give him a chance. At last Mathias growled fiercely: ‘Thou’rt a lily-livered coward; that’s what thou art, like the man thy face is like. Stand oop like a mon, an thou darst.”’ But he was panting for breath as he spoke, and George only laughed at him, ‘If you’re such a man_as ron say,” the younger man retorted, as he kept backing away, ‘‘make me come close to you.” Then, as the old Gypsy, with a last des- perate effort, rushed in to close, George skipped back and let out a blow which took effect on the nose of the other. Had SpEing: been as cautious as he had been at the beginning, it could never have reached him, but he had grown to despise his adversary, and the cailaa was the more severe that it was totally unexpected. With a sort of roar of rage, he plied George with blow on blow, to all of which the younger man made no reply, but kept backing away, seeing that the older man was fast exhausting himself. Presently the Gypsy stopped, panting, and in that moment George went in on him, with the more strength that he had saved himself all through the fight, on purpose for this time. He sent in his blows as straight as he could, and the old man had hardly strength to parry and return them. irst one, then another, took effect; and the Gypsy began to bleed, while his efforts grew feebler and feebler, as his strength waned. At last George got in a blow that floored him, and as he fell he rolled over and cried out, just as his son had done before him; “Old thy than I thought. I'll go wi’ yer honor any- where.” George looked down on him with sur- prise. EComicboo ‘and. Yer honor’sa better man — = — — = S