Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 332 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

SS ee - .— 2 eee ee Sy ™ =e — ee ee, ees _—_—--—2-- “Ao oso Se ers Oe 7 = =e ae SS See ae Soe SS ee a gee _ . a. = SE eee 6 enough. ‘‘I swore I wouldn’t never go under no gentleman, but when I meet a man, I’m not the one to bear malice for a fight. If your honor will take me into your company, Ill be proud to sarve there.” ‘* Come on, then,” said George shortly. With that, he took his way to the Tower, and the Gypsy followed him as quietly as if he had known him all his life. When they got to the guard-house, the young officer said to the sergeant of the guard: ‘* Here is a man who wants to enlist. Tell the corporal to take him over to the recruiting office, and see if he is sound.” The sergeant stared at the recruit, as much as to say that he did not like the looks of him; but as the new man was undoubtedly a tall and well-built fellow, and the morals of the soldiery were not expected to be above reproach, and as his officer had brought him in, the worthy n noncom ” saluted respectfully, and said to the TPy ait ’ere.” Then George went into the Tower, and forgot all about the new recruit, who was presently taken off by the corporal to the recruiting office, which was not far from the Tower, and duly taken into the service of the Government. As he was being taken from the office to the Tower barracks—he had been assigned at his own request to Hoard’s company—the new man who had given the name of ‘ John Spring,” in answer to the question, cast a glance up at the side of the great building, and laughed softly to himself, at which the corporal asked him: ‘* What beest laughin’ at?” The corporal was a rustic, who had not yet got over his country accent. Spring laughed again. ‘*T be laughin’ to myself,” he said, mimicking. ** Can’t a man laugh in the army?” ‘*Not afore his officers,” responded the cor- poral stiffly. ‘‘It ain’t military. Shut thy ead, or that tongue of thine ‘ll git thee in trou- ble, my man.” The new recruit did not laugh again, but he smiled to himself all the way to the place where he was finally rigged out with a uniform. The corporal, who was not above petty tyranny, did not fail to “take it out of him” as he would have expressed it, when he got him into the drill-room, to put him through his fac- ings. He was surprised to find, however, that the new man was unexpectedly ready with the fac- ings and marchings, so that, after he had tried him with all sorts of orders, and found that he knew the meaning of all, the corporal suddenly observed: ““Thee’st been in the sarvice afore, man. I mistroost thee’s a desarter.” The new recruit cast a glance at the other, as if he found it hard to restrain his risibility; but made no answer, and the corporal added: ‘“‘Coom wi’ me, man, A’ll find out who thee beest.” The recruit followed him to the -room, where the corporal reported to the officer that the new recruit acted to him like a deserter, and asked what he should do with him, The officer of the guard that day was Oliver Howard, who, when the new recruit came into the room, eyed him sharply. When the corporal reported, Howard looked at the new man with still more sharpness, and the other faced him, with the innocent air of one who had never known guile. ‘Well, my man,” said the youn **yvou hear what the corporal says. Are you a deserter, or not?” Spring stared at the officer hard. — ‘“'Your honor ought to know,” was all he said. “‘T know a thing or two. If your honor wants a new hand, that don’t need to be drilled, seems to me it ain’t much the sarvice is goin’ to suf- fer.” Oliver seemed to be pleased with the reply, for he turned to the corporal, saying: ‘“We mustn’t ask too many questions, cor- ral. If we get a good man, and he turns out be good in his drill, it is not for us to pry too close into his affairs. Put him on guard, and we'll see whether he understands that, as well as the rest of the business.” So John Spring, the Gypsy, against all the rules of the service, ag png to be put on guard, the very day on which he enlisted, and was placed at the door of the very Armory in which the trouble had taken place the night be- fore, where he attracted attention from the country visitors who crowded the Tower during the day by his tall igure, and dark, handsome face, both set off by the new uniform which he wore. That cveRne at the closing of the gates, the Constable of the Tower, who felt naturally ner- ‘vous as the darkness approached, fearing a re- tition of the scene of the previous night, came offieer, ow is it? to the door of the armory, as the ‘‘ Beef-Eaters” out the last of the crowd, and stared hard at the new man who was on guard, John Spring stood at ‘‘ attention,” when he saw the Constable coming, and presented arms in the stiff way of an old soldier. The Constable eyed him from head to foot, and said to him: _ ~“Umph! ‘You’re a new man, hey?” Spring-Heel Jack. © Yes, sir,” was the perfectly respectful re- ply. ‘* When did you come into the guard?” asked the old aaa ‘This arternoon, sir.” ‘“Umph! Who put you on here?” ** Sergeant, sir.” **Umph! How long have you been in the ser- vice?” The new recruit seemed to be pondering a mo- ment, and then answered, gravely: ‘Bout four hours and a ‘arf, sir.” The old general colored slightly, for he thought the recruit was chaffing him, and he snapped out: ‘* How dare you answer me in that manner? How long have you been in the service, alto- gether?” The recruit appeared to be thinking again, but he answered as before: ‘Four hoursand a’arf, sir—leastwise it might be three-quarters, now.” Then the old general turned and stumped down to the guard-room, when he inquired angrily of | the sergeant ‘‘ How he dared to put a recruit on | an important post like that?” The sergeant laid the responsibility on the officer of the guard, and Oliver Howard was at once called for. He came, looking as innocent as possible, and in answer to the query what he meant by putting anew man on such a post, answered: ‘* Because I wan a man I could trust, sir. Last night all the old soldiers, as I am told, showed the white feather, and the new man looks as if he were a brave fellow.” ‘“‘Then, understand, sir,” said the general sharply, ‘‘that he must come off at once. I will not trust a post like that to a recruit.” So John Spring was sent to the barracks for the night. CHAPTER VIII. THE DUKE GETS A VISIT. THE old duke, on the evening after his surly reception of his young kinsman, was in a worse humor than usual, and this was aGgraverey by the fact that his gouty foot began to pain hi so severely that he had to send for the doctor, the same who was official surgeon of the Tower. The doctor managed to relieve him of his pain and amuse his mind at the same time. The first he did with some ee Ree tions, and the second he effected by telling him the story of the mysterious apparition, at the Armory, the evening before, at which the duke expressed incredulity, insisting that the men must have been all drunk, and that the whole ing was a fabrication. en the doctor told him what he had him- self seen, the old noble ‘was gered, but con- cluded that the physician must have also had a ‘* drop too much,” and with that he added: **'You know, doctor, that such things cannot be in the nineteenth century. They are impos- sible, you know.” ‘« Nevertheless I can swear to what I saw,” said Tatham stubbornly, ‘‘and if your grace does not choose to believe it, that makes no dif- ference in the facts. I don’t argue that itis a ghost, at all, but, on the contrary, I am con- vinced that the man who did the trick is a very skillful fellow.” ‘“ Ah, then, you admit that there is no ghost about the affair. Well, then, who can have done it? Id like to see such a thing happen in my house. I don’t believe that it could. ‘I hope it never will, duke,” said Tatham, rising to take his leave. ‘‘If your grace were to see the thing I saw last night, it would be a bad thing for the foot, and you too, Good- night. nd the doctor left the house, more than ever convinced that the duke was the most dis- agreeable old man he had ever met. In the mean time, the old duke himself, after the de re of the physician, began to ponder over what had been told him; and, as the light faded away, and the darkness supervened, he began to grow nervous, in spite of his bold words, He rung for candles, and the flunky brought them in, of whom the old noble whether he had heard anything of the trouble at the Tower of London, the nig t before. The man was a big, stout fellow; but, as the duke asked the question, he grew perceptibly paler, and said in a nervous way: “ Please your grace, yes; but we all ’opes that the thing won’t come this way, your grace. It'd scare the maids arf out of their wits, and there ain’t none of us wants to’ave the Old Scratch *imself comin’ ’round.” The old duke saw that the big fellow was really frightened, and he asked him, sneer- ingly: a Why, Jarvis, hea, surely are not afraid of a man like yourself?” ‘* Please your ce,” said Jarvis, respect- fully but firmly, ‘‘if the thin ‘round ’ere in the night, I couldn’t answer for the way hany of us would act. It ain’t to be sup that it will; but the maids is all scared ‘arf to death a’ready, and they do say the thing ’as been ’round town for more than a month, your grace,” were to come This was news to the duke, so he continued; ‘*'Where and when, Jarvis?” Jarvis lowered his voice, and looked around the big room, now dimly lighted with a pair of wax candles, as if he was afraid of being over- heard, as he answered: ‘“They do say, your grace, that it was seen on ’Ampstead ’Eath and Windmill "Ill, and ‘Igh ’Olborn; and the folks in ’Ampstead Court is that scared that they dassn’t go to bed at nights.” oy duke mused for a few moments, and then said: ‘* Well, if he comes around here, I shall know what to do with him. Jarvis, I am going to take a turn in the garden. Get my chair ready and bring me my pistols. I have a fancy that this wild scamp, whoever he is, may pay us a visit to-night, and if so, we will try what we can do with him,”. : Jarvis turned paler than before, and gasped: ‘* Your grace must be joking!” The old duke favored him with one of his most oy glances, as he answered: ““T never joke with my servants, Jarvis. Go and get the chair ready, and bring the pistols, as I said.” Jarvis, who well knew the value of his place, made no more ado, but went and got the rolling- chair, in which the old noble was used to taking as much of the air as was possible to one of his — habits. e also brought a pair of handsome dueling- pistols, with which in the days of his youth the old duke had fought more than one combat, and acquired the reputation of being one of the best shots in England. Then the obsequious flunky wheeled his mas- ter into the garden of the palace, which stretch- ed down to the margin of the river Thames, one of those quaint, old-fashioned places, only possi- ble to the very rich people in London, where land is sometimes worth from two to three guineas a foot. The gardens of Norfolk House some acre and a half in extent, laid out in the formal style that came in with the reigns of William III., and ‘* rood Queen Anne,” and terminated in a flight of stone steps, at the top of which there was a summer-house that overlooked the river, in which the duke was wont to sit in the summer evenings and muse sadly on the fact that he could never hope to be young again. On this evening he had his chair wheeled to the old place, and told Jarvis that he could go, a permission of which the man gladly availed him- self, for he was undeniably afraid in the dark, in common with many other good people in the city of London, since the pranks of Spring- Heeled Jack had begun to be played, in all di- rections, round the town. The duke had heard of the strange el ances before, and had given them but little at- tention; for the chief exploits of this mysterious being had taken place in the outlying districts of the suburbs, and it was only the night before that he had, for the first time, made his appear- ance in the midst of civilization, spite of the guards of the Tower itself. But the old duke, who was as brave as a lion, and relied on his shooting powers to save him from harm if the monster should make its ap- pearance, sat quietly in the summer-house for some time; heard the clock of the Tower strike ten and eleven; and still nothing appeared to disturb his quiet; though the last waterman on the river had, long ere that, rowed past, and the silence of night was over everything on land and water. He had told Jarvis to call him at eleven, and soon after the strokes of the clock had died away on the night, heard the step of that wor- thy servitor approaching, to whom he called out: | ‘‘ Well, Jarvis, all safe and sound, so far.” There was no answer, but the step came on, and the duke turned his head to see who was coming toward him. It was a tall personage, about the size of the fanny. who usually attended him, but wrapped in a long cloak, and the old noble, with an in- stinctive fear that all was not right, snatched up his pistols, and called out to the approaching man: “Halt, there, I tell you! You can’t frighten me with your tricks, sir.” ; And so saying, he leveled a pistol at the per- sonage in the cloak, and cocked both weapons. The click of the hammer was plainly audible in the stillness of the night, and the duke heard more steps approaching from the back of the den, in which he recognized the heavy foot- all of the worthy Jarvis: ‘* Help! help!” he shouted; for the visitor was still advancing, and the old man found that he could not see the sights of the pistol in the night and would have to aim by guess-work. poo | as good aim as he could he fired, and the t astonished him. The stranger in the long cloak suddenly threw off the enveloping mantle, and displayed the figure of Spring-Heel Jack, clad in half-armor, from the waist up, but with a huntsman’s breeches and boots on his lower limbs, that had a most queer and incongruous effect; while, in- stead of spurs on his heels, he had two great. ICO EOmMiIc S Weed —> wl Sere