Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 378 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

th Qe - ‘been listened to in dead silence, only inter- rupted by applause, when he told them that they would win in the end. He had not excited ay enthusiasm such as had been raised by his father, but the men had listened as if they were afraid to lose a word, and when it was over a subdued buzz went up all over the room as the workmen discussed the merits of the speech. Then came a rather awkward pause, the chairman going round the platform whispering to several men, who shook their heads, till he came again to John, and said, with a smile of amusement: ‘“ They’re afraid to speak after you. If some one don’t speak we shall have to adjourn the meeting,” ‘“That may be the best thing to do,” said John, quietly. ‘We can’t do anything that I an see that would be useful.” The chairman looked puzzled and rueful. ‘** But we’re used to two-hour meetings,” * And they have made half the trouble,” quoth John, dryly. ‘Ask them what they want.” The chairman advanced to the front. ‘* What is the further pleasure of this meet- ing? If there is no news to be communicated I am ready to hear a motion to adjourn,” And then uprose, in the body of the house, Mike Hennessy, who said, slowly: ‘*Mr, Chairman, I don’t see as how we c’u’d do better than go home, Mr. Armstrong’s been givin’ it to us straight, and he and me worked in the same shop two year. Fu’st time {seen him I made a mistake. I said suthin’ "bout his father, the old gent as spoke here to- night, Iwant to take that back right here, and i'm goin’ to look for a job to-morrer, Move we adjourn, sir.” ! A few minutes later the hall was nearly empty of people; and John was coming out with his father, the chairman congratulating a on his speech, and asking bim to come eotren, When they were outside and walking slowly home, old Armstrong remarked, as he squeezed his son’s arm: ‘* John, ye did well. I was orful skeered fur ‘ye, or mebbe I couldn’t ha’ spoke as long as I did. Fact. I furgot all ’bout myself, fearin’ you'd bréak down, ‘You jest astonished ’em.” Jobn drew a long breath. ‘*“Do you know why, father? Because: I for- got about myself in you, and because I saw those poor fellows were all groping in the dark, not knowing which way to turn. Ah, whata lucky thing I met Mr. Baldwin two years ago. { might have been like them to-night,” Then he walked on, buried in thought, for several blocks, when be suddenly said: “Do you know [ve made up my mind to something, father?” ‘What is it, John?” “To go to the top of the ladder, and show my fellow-workmen how to follow. I’d have done it before, if I’d thought I could speak, but I’ve always broken down. Now I know I can do it, Come on, futher. DV’m going to make a call.” _ “Where, John?” asked the old man, wonder- ingly, for there was a new ring in John’s voice as he stepped out briskly. ‘*’m goin’ where we went the other night, to Mrs. Morton’s,” answered Jobn. ‘She told me —that is, her daughter did—that I ought to speak. I didn’t believe I could do it, but now I know I can, I’m going to tell them I’ve done it. The old man shook his head. ‘**Don’t ye doit, John, Too much like blowin’ yer own horn, Let’em hear of it from some one else,” ‘You're right, you’re always right, father, ‘You made me all lam,” returned Jobn, warmly, ** 1 was a fool to think of it, but somehow I feel so strange to-night. I want to see some one, to do something. a'm restless,” “That's jest it, John. I used to feel the same when we was a-layin’ in front of old Fredericks- burg, @-waitin’; but 1 Parned we had _ to obey orders, Or we'd get beat every time. You jest come home and hey a game of checkers, That’ll cool ye off amazin’,” And they walked along in silence till the old man suddenly exclaimed: . ‘‘Hain’t 1 been in this street afore? Yes, surely. Why, John, this is where we was the other night, and that’s the very house. How’d you come to go this way?” They were in Ashley street, whither John had, balf-unconsciously, bent his steps, and now he looked confused and tried to excuse himself, when they heard a sudden cry in the street be- hind them, followed by the whe of a pistol; anja man came running Up from what John knew to be the direction of the Excelsior Works, followed by several others, shouting and cursing pont aS ld Armstrong, and h ‘What's that?” cried old Arms ’ 6 went for his pistol-pocket with the old pace of a soldier, only to find that be was unar a hia John drew him to one side as the man a pursuers came tearing up the street, Pr . ser ment later James Stryker ran pant ng tee pistol in his hand, and started at seeing them, ealling out, as he pointed his pistol: John Armstrong, Mechanic. ‘Back, back! don’t try to stop mae or you're both dead men!” CHAPTER XVII. BEATEN TO A JELLY. Stryker looked wild and haggard, and his’ & hand trembled so he could hardly point the pis- | tol; but Armstrong saw that he was going to fire in his excitement, and he pulled back his father out of the way, when the young man set off running again, ge as his pursuers came to the end of the block, seven or eight in number, yelling out furious execrations. But, in the extremity of his confusion, the hunted man, instead of keeping straight on, turned the corner and dashed down to the river, at which his pursuers gave a howl of tri- umph and came rushing past the Armstrungs, not appearing to notice them. Then John heard a voice shout: ‘*Now we've got him on tho dock. We've got him. Drown the villain! Kill him!” And away thev went down the side street to the dock, when John cried to his father: ‘‘They’re Excelsior men. They’ll do hima mischief if we don’t help him, Will you come on?” ‘*'You bet,” was the old soldier’s answer, and without another word he was off down the street, where John and his father heard ahead of them, the sounds of a savage fight going on. “Pick up a club, John—suthin’—anythin’!” panted the old man as he ranon. ‘Can’t do nothin’ without. Ah, there’s the ticket.” He darted across the street and picked up a couple of bricks from a loose pile, then ran on the pier, just as a bullet came whistling by his head, and they heard the sound of a heavy blow, followed by a yell of pain, ‘*Cops comin’! Cops comin’!” cried old Arm- strong, as loud as he could bawl, ‘*‘ Gib, all of ye, or they’ll ketch ye.” And as he spoke he cast his bricks into the midst of a struggling group of men, which broke up in a moment, and father and son were beset by one of those desperate crowds that col- lect all in a moment and disappear as suddenly in the back slumsof the cify, men crazy with fury and bad rum, who hardly knew what they did in their frenzy. Then John, for the first time in two years, found himself fighting as he had never fought before, using every trick he had ever learned, fighting with fist, foot and head, his strength taxed to the utmost, till, just as suddenly as the fight had begun, it ended with the ery of **Cops,” and the whole gang ran away, leaving John and his father on the pier, the old man waving a club of wood he had picked up some- how, while John felt faint and sick, and realized it he must have received some injury in the ght. What it was, he found out later, when his fa- ther came to him, saying anxiously: **What’s the matter, John? Yo hurt? Why —if they ain’t cut the boy! Here, come under the gas lamp. Yes, by jiminy. It’s a stab, and no mistake. W6 got to get that tended to pecin , Lucky Miss Morton’s near by. Come uick,’ . John had received a stab in the left arm, from which the blood was dropping on the pier, but he said firmly: ‘*Not yet. There’s poor Stryker. Maybe he’s been killed. Look for him. Ho needs at- tention more than me, Tll tie my handkerchief round—so—that’s all right. Go find him, father.” The old man unwillingly departed, and came back, a moment later, looking as if he had seen something horrible. ‘*By gosh!” he said, shuddering. ‘* They’ve e’ena’most killed the pore feller, as you said. He’s all cut about the head, and his face swelled up, so ’s mother wouldn’t know him, Wonder whatit were for?” ‘Some spite,” said John. would come. lance at once.” But, as usual in such eases, no sign of police was to be seen; and theend of it was that John had to give his father the direction of the nearest station, and the old man trudged cff to find it, leaving the wounded John to take care of his insensible enemy of old times, John felt pretty weak and very cold, as his father’s form disappeared. Poor Stryker was breathing heavily, but quite insensible; and his face, by the light of the lamp, was a horrible sight, all bloated and disfigured with cuts and bruises, that showed he had received a fearful beating, while his dress was hanging in tatters, and his body was covered with blood and mire, ‘Poor Stryker,” thought John, “ He'll never be vain of his looks again. But I wonder how he got into this trouble, and where are the po- lice he bad, round the works?” That was the mysiery—also, how he came to’ be alone in the streets, and who were the men. who had assaulted them. In the darkness and confusion, John had not recognized any of them. He knew that he had Siven several knock-down blows, and had stun- ned one mau so that he had to be helped off; but, beyond the su-picion that they were work. **T wish the police We want to send for an ambu-. ee os men who had a spite against their employer, he had no notion of their identity. After awhile, as he sat there, Stryker stirred and groaned slightly, when Jobn spoke to him. The half-unconscious man shivered and shrunk penis as if expecting a blow, when John said rently: ‘**Don’t be afraid, man, They’re gone. Who was it struck you?” Stryker groaned again, his senses enough to ask: ‘*Who’s that?’ “It is I, Armstrong, your classmate, How came those men after you?” Stryker did not appear to hear him. He only groaned out: ‘*Oh, my head! I’m blind, He had recovered I can’t see, For God’s sake get me some water. It was my own fault. I ought to have staid in,” Then he tried to rise, and fell back weakly. “Oh, take me somewhere, anywhere,” he moaned, impatiently. ‘‘ Let me die quietly.” ‘** You won’t die at all, man,” said the other, encouragingly, ‘I’ve sent for the ambulance for you. You've been beaten badly, but that’s nothing. It’s only bruises, I don’t think you’ve ° any bones broken. How did it happen?” ‘*] tried to get home by the backway,” said Stryker, faintly. ‘‘ They were waiting for moe in Ashley street, and chased me, Ishot at them, but it made them worse, Oh, dear, I shall die here, I’m sure I shall.” Then he began to sob and moan in a way that showed he was completely cowed for the time, his nervous system shattered, if indeed he were not seriously hurt, He shivered and shook so that John began to fear for him, and at last said to him: “ Stryker, do you think you could walk a few steps? It’sa cold night, and you'll get frozen here. Somebody may let us into a house till the ambulance comes, My father has gone for it,” Stryker only moaned out: “Tcan’t walk, I’m beaten toa jelly.” “Try it,” urged John. ‘I'll help you.” And ha assisted his. old enemy to rise, when Stryker stagzered and nearly fell; but succeeded in walking slowly off the dock, groaning at every iy till they reaehed the side street and came to the corner by which Mrs. Morton lived. Here John hesitated end looked anxiously up and down the street, Hod he heard the most distant rumble of wheels be would have felt happy, but the streets were perfectly silent, and a groan from Stryker decided him, ‘Oh, heavens. must J dio for want of help? Won’t any one let us in?” Jobn took a sudden resolution. **T must do it, Stryker, You know Mrs. Mor- ton, I believe. She lives here. Tl ask her to let you rest till the ambulance comes, in her honse,” “Thank God!” ejaculated the beaten man. ‘“Where is it? I can’t see, They’ve blinded me, Quick, for heaven’s sake!” And he was sinking down exhausted, when John gathered him up on his right arm, and half-led, balf-carried him to the foot of Mrs, Morton’s steps. There was a light burning in the parlor, for it was not yet ten o’clock, and John saw the fig- ure of the old lady herself at the window, peer- ing out. He suspected she bad heard some of the noise outside, and was wondering what it was all about, so he called out: ‘‘Mrs. Morton, please, madam, here is a man hurt badly. Let usin for one moment, till the ambulance comes,” Whether she understood or not through the glass he could not tell, but she went away from the window, and presently looked out of the door, timidly, saying: ¢ “What's the matter? Don’t think we haven’t any men in the house. Go away, or I shall ound an alarm.” She was shutting the door, when John cried ub: ' , ‘* For heaven’s sake, listen. Here isa friend of ‘lady hurt. We're waiting for the police ambulance, and it’s so cold I fear he'll si fore it comes,” The door was nearly closed, and the old lady called out through the crack; Who is it?’ “Mr. James Stryker, madam, assaulted by his workmen,” Then the door opened a little, ** And who are you, young man?” “John Armstrong, madam. Don’t delay, please. I tell you the man may die if he doesn’t get into a warmer place.” For a keen March wind was making John himself shiver through bis ulster. Then the old lady opened the door and said, He has been ‘* If that is the case, come in. You must ex- cuse my suspicions; but we are all alone, as you know,’ John shook Stryker, and found him, to his alarm, limp and senseless. He stooped down to get his auinlared arm round the other, and lifted bim on his hip, in which way he carried him up the steps into the hall, and laid bim down, saying briefly: “Thank you, maaam, Don’t stay by us. . It is no sight for a lacy.” com S Ghoo eon