Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 379 — page 31: what you’re looking at

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

/ Howling Jonathan. 31 — —— ——_ -—-. “The jig is up, David Ingram! Every man belonging to the gang is under arrest save you. The mob you raised has melted away as the truth showed itself, and the better element of the town came to our side. You may cheat the rope; you can’t cheat our weapons. So sur- render!” Even as he uttered the words, a figure forced its way through their ranks, leaping across the room and panting: ‘* Together, my hero—my love!” It was widow Mercy Watkins, who had fled to the side of the one man in Good Leather who, she knew, would defend her to the last asp. Until then Iceberg Dave had well borne out his title, cold and unshaken as he faced those heavy odds, a smile even curling his mustaches as he listened to the stern speech of the tall de- tective. But now! His left arm encircled the woman who thus proved the intense love with which he had so suddenly inspired her. His face was trans- figured. One moment full of love, beyond the power of words to depict. The next that of a demon, as he glared at the detectives who were moving forward to capture him while thus ham- pered, ‘* Better death, my love!” panted the widow, and before he could divine her intention, she drew a pistol and fired straight into the faces of the enemy. They fell back, confused, shaken far more than they would have been at the assault of a dozen men, and Iceberg Dave caught at the chance. A stream of fire poured from his weapon as he lifted Merey up on bis left arm and rushed for- ward. The detectives and their allies from Good Leather reeled back, yelling, shouting, cursing, firing without an aim, split through the center by that human catapult. And it was not only by his might and desper- ate nerve. Mercy Watkins added her quota to the scene of death and confusion, shooting as she lay in his arm, laughing hysterically, shrilly, encouraging her new-found hero to still more desperate deeds! For the time being they were neither much better than lunatics! But it was madness with a method underneath it. Iceberg knew that but one frail hope re- mained for them, and as he dashed through the confused tangle into the open air, a mighty sob rose in his throat as he saw his good horse still standing where he had left it. One mighty bound and he was beside it. Another instant and Mercy Watkins filled the saddle, her pistol still sending out vicious mes- aes of death, covering the mounting of her nero, Up behind her he leaped, wrenching the good horse around and thus shielding her precious life with his own body, laughing ferociously as he sent his last shot into the confused crowd, then crushing the skull of a man who leaped to the head of the horse to check their flight.” On through the streets of Good Leather dash- ed the horse with its double burden. Out of Good Leather and into the dark shadows that were not yet thinning before the coming day. On and on ‘and on! Pursuit was made, but it came to naught. Hither by swift riding or cunning doubling, the fugitives eluded all pursuit, and from that day thenceforth their names were only known in Good Leather as a memory, Once more in the back Eps of My House. _The room was well filled, though a somber silence generally reigned over the eeemnhly> Herman Moskau and his daughter Amelia sat near one end of the room, both very pale and bearing traces of strong agitation. Near them stood Spartan, one hand gently resting on the chair of the blind eineieek the other clasping the trembling fingers of the sister. On a couch at the further end of the room sat, or rather crouched, Franz Moskau. His face was immobile, his eyes fixed on vacancy. He gave no signs Of interest or curiosity. His mind seemed a perfect blank, and he had not spoken a word for hours, T he Slayin r of Ugly Dan Ben- nison appeared to have satisfied him, Near him stood Howling Jonathan Hebrew, now very different in appearance from the Terror who had ‘‘ shaken Good Leather up” so lively ever since his advent the evening before. Mark Davidson, paler than ever, his head and one arm bandaged, memorials of that fierce charge at The Mint, with several other persons made up the number. ‘*Tt is time, ’Melie?’ softly muttered Herman Moskau, his blind eyes roving around as though he could thus see just what was near. * It is time to play, is it not? It may make him the quicker come. You seo him not, ’Melie? Franz is not yet in sight?” nate Play, father,” gravely uttered Frank Spar- n. merciful Father may open the ears of your long- lost son! Pray that your music may give him back to us all!” ** It is ever so I pray,” was the simple reply, as ‘*And as you play, pray that the ever, a SS lS he drew the bow across the strings, sending out that long-drawn, wailing, yet inexpressibly sweet and touching sound, More than one heart gave a quick bound of hope as they saw the crazy man lift his head with a start, gazing across the room. But only to sink again as the head drooped and he resumed his former attitude of listless apathy. The father played on and on, tears streamin from his sightless eyes, his face upturned, ben a little to one side as though he was listening for the first footsteps of his wandering boy, Played on until his overtasked nerves could stand no more, and the instrument dropped into his lap unheeded as he murmured: ‘Is it not yet, "Melie? Is the goot Lord still hard to us? Isit nothing of our poor boy that you see, yet, "Melie?” ‘**Not yet—not yet, father!” came chokingly, those tear-dimmed blue eyes fixed on the pale, haggard face opposite. ‘* Play yetia little more, father! It must be—it must be that he will his ears open! It is the last hope! If music not— then nothing !” ‘*Patience, my dear friends,” said Frank Spartan, only by the utmost exercise of his will keeping his voice under command, ‘Time is long, and kind heaven will reward your efforts at last. Play some more—if you have not for- gotten, play some tune that Franz loved when a happy child with you all. Try that, and God grant it may open his ears!” A gasping cry broke from the poor old man’s lips, and he turned his sightless eyes toward his daughter, erying huskily: ‘*It is so, ’Melie? The time has come for the old song that the poor mother make him to sleep goen? He is by us close—my boy?” ‘Tt is time, father. It is now, or never no more in this life!” The blind man bowed his head, tears trickling through his thin, trembling fingers. He was raying. Amelia dropped to her knees before him, her face uplifted, her clasped hands raised on high, Not an audiblo word was spoken, but the wrayers that went up to the throne of the Most H igh were none the less ardent and eloquent. Only one dry pair of eyes in the room. one unmoved face! Silent, stolid, Franz Moskau stared at the car- pet, unmoved by the pathetic scene, senseless to all that was going on for the rescue of his mind from worse than the tomb, Herman Moskau gently took the hands of his daughter, pressing them to his lips, then over his painfully throbbing heart. Faint his voice, unsteady his words as he muttered: ‘Tt is the time we wish and wait and pray for 80 long, "Melie. Be brave, my child—like me! Frank Spartan turned abruptly away. That piteous attempt at drawing up the bent frame —that poor assumption of calm confidence, i more than he could bear to look upon just then. ‘‘fTam brave—I fear not, father!” and the girl’s voice rung out clear and distinct, her face lighting up, her eyes filling with a light as bright and glorious as though it was truly in spired. ‘' Play the old cradle song, and pla it as though you knew more than lite depend- ed on each chord! I will sing—even,as the good mother sung to Franz!” The father seemed to gather courage from her strength. He grasped his beloved instru- pane with something of his old energy, and then— Soft and low came the sweet voice of the maiden, her blue eyes riveted upon the bowed face of her brother. Like a far-away echo the violin kept time to her singing. Soft and low at first, but gradually drawing nearer and clearer. A gasping breath that ‘caused a discord as Amelia saw the face of the crazy man raise and his eyes glance swiftly around. Only fora single instant did she falter, for she had cast their last frail hope on this venture. Sweeter and clearer, now, as though coming still closer sounded the music. It was not as though both singer and player were in the same room with them. And from wandering, that vacant gaze be- came fixed on the face that now smiled upon him. The light deepened in his eyes which had been so blank ever since he became fully satis- fied that the demon who had so mercilessly tor- tured him was dead. His breath came "roa aud lessregular. One hand slowly lifted to his head, pushing back the shortened hair from his forehead, then—with a swift motion sweeping across his brow as he leant forward, his lips parted, his face slowly flushing. Slowly the song sunk again, little by little. The maniac settled back on the couch, his breath growing moreeven. The wild light softened in his eyes, and his thin fingers moved as though keeping time to the music. And then, as the music and the no less sweet voice grew lower and less distinct, a smile crept over his haggard face and his head drooped toward the pillow. Amelia touched her father on the arm and ceased singing. A silence that was painful reign- ed throughout the room. Franz Moskau gave a start and glanced bewildeyedly around the room, Only but Amelia, steadying her voice by a desperate effort of will, spoke in a low, s«cthing tone: ‘Sleep, my fine boy! Sleep ior mother, dear Franz!” ‘** Yes—I will sleep,” slowly uttered the man, his head sinking to the pillow with a faint sigh, alanguid smile playing about his thin lips. ** The pain is gone, and lam so tired—gdodsnight, mother!” Herman Moskau started to his feet, trembling like a storm-tossed leaf, his lips parting as he caught that voice, so languid, yet so familiar to his longing ears. But before he could utter a word, Frank Spartan clapped a hand over his mouth, whispering earnestly: “Tt is Franz, your.long-lost son, but if you speak a word to startle him, you will lose aim forever!” ** Tt is true, father!” softly whispered Amelia, grasping his hand. “It is so for sure! Franz has come back to us, and it was the dear moosic that bring him home again!” And time proved her words true! From that peaceful sleep which lasted for many long and weary hours, Franz Moskau awoke in full possession of his senses, though it was many a long month before he fully recover- ed from the effects of all he had undergone at the hands of Morris Grant and his unscrupulous tool, Ugly Dan Bennison, He could never explain how it was that he es- caped from Ugly Dan. The past was a blank, and far too painful to be needlessly stirred up. Morris Grant never fully recovered from the shocks of that night. He was forced to make ample restitution to his former partner, and then was taken away to answer to the charge of highway robbery and murder, with Perry, Blair and the remainder of the gang who had cursed the country under the name of ‘‘ Captain Clean- up” and his band. It is quite enough to add here that they received suitable punishment for their crimes,with the exception ofMorris Grant, or Colonel Joel Mallison, He died in prison, before trial, of apoplexy, brought on, his mates said, by his wild fancy that a ghost was haunting him! Fra neither of them ever has seen cause to regret so acting. Herman and Franz Moskau live with them in the old home from whence the twain set out on their long and weary search for the miss- ing son and brother. And, is it oes OE to add, music is king in that home! THE END. Half-Dime Singer’s Library 1 Wnba, Eaora! and 59 other Songs. 2 Caprain Curr and 57 other Songs, 8 THe GArnssoro’ Har and 62 other Songs. 4 Jonnny MorGan and 60 other Songs, 5 [ut Strike You Wir A Fraruer and 62 othera, 6 GEORGE THE CHARMER and 56 other Songs. 7 Tae Bette or Rockaway and 52 other Son 8 Youne Fe.ian. You're Too Frese and 60 others. 9 Suy Youne Giri and 65 other Songs, 10 I'm THE GoveRNoR’s ONLY Son and 58 other Songs 11 My Fawn and 65 other Songs. 12 Comrm’ THro’ THE Rye and 5 other Songs. 13 Toe RoLiickine IRIsHMAN and 59 other Songs, 14 Orv Doa Tray and 62 other Songs. 15 WHoa, CaaArui£ and 59 other Songs, 16 IN THis Wueat By anv By and 62 other Songs. 17 Nancy Lee and 58 other Songs, 18 I’ THe Boy THat’s BounD To BLazeE and 57 others 19 Tae Two OrpHans and 59 other Songs. 20 Wear are THe Witp Waves Savina, SISTER? and 59 other Songs. 21 InpianantT Potty Woe and 59 other Songs, 22 Ine Otp Arm-CHarr and 58 other Songs, 23 On Coney IsLANnD Bracu and 58 other Songs, 24 OL_p Srmon, THE Hot-Corn Man and 60 others. 25 I’m ry Love and 56 other Songs, 25 PARADE or THE GuaRps and 56 other Songs, . 27 Yo. Heave, Ho! and 60 other Songs. 28 "Twit Never do To Gin ir up So and 60 others, 29 Buve Bonnets Over THE Rorper and M others, 20 Tue Merry Laverne Man and 56 other Songs, $1 Sweet Forart-me-Nor and 55 other Songs. 82 LeeTte BAsy Mine and 53 other Songs. 83 Dm Banso AM DE INSTRUMENT FoR Me and 53 others, 34 Tarry and 50 other Songs, 85 Just ro PLease THE Boys and 52 other Songs. 86 SKATING ON ONE IN THE GuTTER and 52 others, — - 87 Kotorep Kranks and 59 other Songs. 38 Nu. DesprRaNpuM and 53 other Songs. 89 Tue Grr I Lerr Besryp Me and 5) other Songs, 40 °Tis Bur A Lirrite Fapep Friowsrr and 50 others 41 Prerry Wariuertata and 60 other Songs, 42 DANCING IN THE Barn and 68 other Songs, 43 H. M.S. Pryarore, compiere, and 17 other Songs Sold everywhere by Newsdealers, at five cents per copy, or sent post-paid, to any ad on ree ceipt of Six cents per number. BEADLE AND ADAMS, PvuBLisHers, 98 Witiiam STREET, New YORE, Spartan married Amelia Moskau, and AE Gomilebooks (E(0)