Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 379 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

6 _ —— ee “«*Melie, you can ask the gentleman!” mutter- ed the old man, in tones that trembled strange- ly. ‘‘He may know. It is a chance, and we mustn’t miss a single one, child—not even the faintest!” ‘* Soon, father; when we have eaten. It was an early breakfast, you know, and you are faint. I know,” and she playfully tapped his lips with one little hand, laughing for him, though there were tears in her eyes which he could not see. ‘* You are so contrary, that I rst be a spoiled chiid to keep you at all good. And I sav eat, now!” The old man yielded to her pretty imperious- noss, and she seated him carefully in the shade of the tree, giving him food and hovering about Lim as a young mother might look after her first child, eating nothing at all until his hunger was satisfied, though she protested she was prov- ing herself a very glutton. Ugly Dan watched all this from a little dis- tance, through the smoke of his cigar. His handsome face was graye and hard set, but there was a glitter in his black eyes that kept his men well in subjection. ‘‘The devil in him is wakin’ up, sure!” mut- tered Blister to his mate in guarded tones. ‘**Them fools’ll hev a benefit afore long, now you want to listen to my sermon, pard!” ‘* Long’s he sticks to the dry-goods, J won’t crum’le,” was the satisfied response. But almost as often as they rested on the pret- ty, rosy face, did the eyes of Ugly Dan wander to the lined, care-worn face of the father. And os often did a puzzled light come into them, inaking them glow and glitter, drawing deep lines of thought between his jetty brows. Where had he seen a face like that? What was it that SO gers ully attracted him, yet filled his heart with a vicious hatred? Try as he might, he could not solve the riddle, The old man finished eating, and as Amelia took his plate, his hand drew her down until he could whisper in her ear. She hesitated for a moment, glancing swiftly from face to face of the three strangers, then bent low and breathed a few quick words. With a sigh, the old man took up his violin and gently touched its strings as his sightless eyes turned toward Ugly Dan and his men. ‘* My friends, you will bear with an old man? This is my way to give back thanks for what we have, It is my prayer, for that is all the re- ligion know, If moosicis not your liking, that makes me sorry.” “Don’t make us feel that we are intruding, my dear sir,” smoothly uttered Ugly Dan. ‘‘ We are passionately fond of music, but if our pres- ence is a restraint on you, we will go away.” ‘*No, no, not yet—you go away not yet!” A isd cried the old man, his face strongly agi- ated, ‘* Not unless you wish it, my dear sir.” ‘*T do not so wish—I wish you to stop. There is something I have to ask you, before you may go away. Something I hope you can tell, to make our hearts leap—’Melie!” His voice broke and choked, and the name of his child was uttered with an effort. She hurried to his side, her little hands caressing him and her face bowed until it rested against his snowy hair. “You will excoose him, gentlemen,” she uttered hurriedly. ‘‘He has suffered so much sorrow—so much pain and trouble! He will be better in a little. Not, father?” ‘*Better—when we find our boy, ’Melie!”’ muttered the old man, his tones low, his voice like that of a wearied child. ‘It is so long to wait—so far—so weary work, this waiting, this longing, this not finding—ach/ that is the worst of all!” ‘Tf we can do anything to—” : Ugly Dan paused short as Amelia waived her and, “Tt may be—but not now. He is too much oxcited, you see. Father, you play a little now. That calm you, that clear your poor brain. See! the stranger wait to listen, father.” “Ach! the time was!” muttered the old min- strel, lifting his head with a pitiful pride, as a faint flush crept into his thin face. ‘' The time was when many thousand waited just for this, like you, my goot friends!” e drew the violin to his breast with a loving gesture, then touched bow to strings, invoking asound, low and wailing, yet inexpressibly _ sweet and sad. ’ *That—you hear, my friends? It was the net that held them fast, while I filled their souls with moosic! Just a little quiver—just one strmg made to speak! Butitwasenough., The big crowd was mine own captive then. I made them laugh, I made them cry, I filled their souls with joy everlasting! I—yes, ’Melie. Oxcoose me, my fnends. I am old and growing silly, you see. I will play, not talk—ach !” And play he did, such music as one seldom hears in this every-day world of ours. Words cannot begin to describe the marvelous sounds he drew from that smoky-looking box of wood but something may be guessed from the fac that even Blister and Tom Wacker sat open- mon'‘bed, speechless, spell-bound, captives to his von trous art. And Ugly Dan had to lower his Tong-lashed lids to keep down the mois‘ure that ; Howling Jonathan. came into his eyes with a persistency that rapid winking failed to keep them clear, And when the music died away ina low, weird wail, the three ruffians drew in their breath gaspingly, their eyes avoiding each other, as though ashamed to betray the only pure emotion they had known for many a long year. ‘“You sling a mighty lively elbow, boss!” at length uttered Blister, feeling impelled to say something, but at a sad loss for fitting words. ‘¢ Be durned ef it wouldn’t make a sick kitten dance!” supplemented Tom Wacker. ‘* Lays *way over a hand-organ, it does, now!” ‘*So?” and the minstrel laughed softly, amused by the novel compliments, for such he knew were intended. Ugly Dan alone was silent, though he saw Amelia glancing shyly in his direction. That old query was perplexing him: when and where had he met a face like this? Like, yet unlike. He could hardly explain what he meant, even in his own mind. ‘*Tt is my way to pray,” softly muttered the old man, his face upturned, his sightless eyes seemingly fixed on the bright blue sky above, ‘*Tt is my one poor hope of finding him—my boy! He was so fond of moosic! He would stand and listen while I played, long ago—so long ago it seems tome! <Ach/ if it could only be a dream—to wake from it, me! But no—it is too sure a fact! ‘’Melie!” ‘¢ Yes, father,” and the girl glided to his side, one hand gently touching the upturned face, ‘‘ ‘Mélie—it is time, not? [haf played. It is enough, eh?” “Yes, father, I will ask the gentlemen about our poor lost boy. But you must remember that this is, oh! such a big country! So wide! So big a ways between two little places! So great, you might hide all the world in one little hollow, and never know it was there! And one poor boy —so small with this big world, though our all— it is so easy that many men can say nothing of him when we ask, ou will remember, my father?’ ‘Ves, ’Melie,” with a faint sigh. ‘‘ I know—I will remember. But some day we will find our Franz. God is good. He will not always turn his face away—not always, I think, ’Melie?” She had to turn her face away from that piti- ful look, blind though those eyes were, that seemed to beg a favorable answer. Her own eyes were almost blinded, or she might have no- ticed how pale Ugly Dan grew as he heard that name; might have seen how suddenly he avert- ed his face, while one strong hand mechanically sought and gripped a pistol-butt. ‘¢ Some day, yes, father, we will learn all,” she brokenly uttered, then clearing her voice with an evident effort, she added: ‘‘ Tt is this my poor father wishes, gentlemen. His son he is looking for. He hopes that .may- be you have met him. This ts his picture, when he was a few years younger than now. And his name, it is Franz Moskau.” She held out a card photograph toward Blis- ter, who chanced to be the one nearest her, and as he took it from her hand, she stepped back onee more to the side of her father, whose sight- less eyes seemed to be reading every change on the face of the ruffian. ‘« A right smart-lookin’ chap, miss, but I cain’t call his face to mind jest now. Wish’t I could, fer your sake, but it won’t do no good to lie about it.” “Nur this ’coon, nuther,” chimed in Tom Wacker, shaking his shaggy pate with grave em- phasis. ‘‘ Nuther the face nur the name hits me wu’th a cent. Mebbe the boss kin make a bet- ter riffle?” Slowly Ugly Dan extended his hand for the photograph, his face hard-set, his eyes glittering evilly. He knew now what had been haunting him, without a glance at the pictured face, but still he took it and gazed at it long and closely. A bright, boyish face, yet with much of sturdy manhood in it, too. A face that bore a certain resemblance to that of the old man who was so eagerly listening for a word from those thin, tightly-compressed lips. ‘He is gone so long, dear man,” came trem- blingly from hislips. *‘ 1 haf miss him so much! I cannot hear why he isnot come back home long time ago! It is all black—all nothing—all pain and grief and weary hunting! Ach / mein Got! if you can only say that is him—that is one I know—that is a man yet alive! It would be so easy for you to say, so much for me, for ’Melie, his sister, to hear! it would make me crazy-glad, I think—if the joy did not kill me quite!” — : : “Tam not sure—I am foggy in the wits,” slowly muttered Ugly Dan, his glittering orbs still fixed on the picture. ‘It is a face—l think I have seen it, sometime—but where?” ‘“°Melie! it is coming! the time we look so long time after! Franz is living! He will come home to us—mein Got! my poor heart!” ‘‘Merey—tell him, if you know!” almost fiercely muttered the girl, supporting the old man in her arms as he seemed almost faint- ing. Fhose black eyes flashed into her pale face, and with such a strange light in their depths as caused her to shrink back, trembling. ‘*My wits are clouded, somehow, and then i iii ———_— ee ee _—————aEa— ee — music only can clear them. If your father would only play a little for—” ‘Play? It is so, ’Melie! I knew Franz come back to us through the dear moosic! He was. so fond, always! Yes, yes, I will play—-play Bi my arms drop off! It is for him—for my oy! So agitated that he could hardly hold violin or bow, the poor old man awoke the echoes, tears rolling down his cheeks until his snowy beard was wet with them, And with a devil- ish light in his eyes, Ugly Dan watched him, watched the girl, showing his white teeth in a. vicious smile that fairly frightened his two hardened tools. He caught the frightened look which filled Amelia’s eyes, and lowered his own, smoothing his countenance with an effort. He was not yet ready to cast aside his mask entire- v, ‘*So! the music is driving away the mists! Faster, old man! It is coming, | am almost sure! Let me look at the picture once more— ha! I know—bah! it has fled again!” he mut- tered, casting the photograph violently to the ground, ~ Amelia sprung forward and caught it up, re- treating hastily as Ugly Dan extended one hand as though to ereep her by thearm. He laughed softly, then added; ‘Still faster, old man! Play something quick and devilish! 1 am on a hot trail! i can almost catch what you want! Ha! I have it now! I can almost swear— Why do you stop playing?” he snarled, fiercely. ““’Melie! he knows—the good, kind -gentle- man knows! He will tell us where we can find our fine boy! ’Melie, help me give thanks to: the goot Got for this blessing! Ac! my poor tongue is so thick! Help me, ’Melie—pray that it is so to be for us all!” The poor man fell to his knees, his clasped’ hands elevated, but his voice was choked with sobs and gasps of overwhelming joy. And aly Dan stood with folded arms watch- ing him, his eyes aglow, his thin lips curling: with a satanic glee! CHAPTER IV. UGLY DAN CLAIMS HIS PRICE. For a brief space he forgot himself, suffering> his real disposition to show forth in that glitter- ing of his eyes, in that devilish’smile, in the wolf- ish baring of his teeth. Until that hour, he had never met these people, but for all that he hated the white-haired old man with an intensity such as can find birth in only a nature utterly de- praved, wholly without mercy or a single gener- ous sentiment, Had there been even the faintest spark of either in his composition, he must have beem touched by the spectacle thus presented, must: have been driven from the utterly devilish course which he had mapped out since hearing the name of Franz Moskau. Rough, brutal, evil and crime-stained though they were, both Tom Whacker and Blister were in a measure affected, and drew aside with a de- ee of sheepiness such as they did not often eel. Somehow those tears of mingled joy and gratitude, with that husky, broken voice, stirred up long buried sensibilities, and for the time ke- ing they forgot their schemes of plunder. ‘It isso, ’Melie! He knows, this good, kind gentleman sent by pitying heaven to tell us of our Franz! He knows—he will tell us how to findourboy! *Melie—think! The moosic it was’ that brings him to us back again! The moosic —and this noble sir—ach/” and the poor man, his face streaming wet with tears, kneeling with clasped hands, his voice breaking afresh, turned once more toward the heartless villain, ‘It is: so little the weak old tongue can say, while the poor heart swells up so big and jumps so hard in the throat! So poor and weak it sounds, but we thank you, Melie and I! Itisso long we have been looking! And now—it is foolish, not? that. LT ery so silly?” He tried to laugh, but it was a ghastly mirth, and his child touched those poor, quivering lips with one hand, herself pale and shrinking from» before that baneful gaze. ‘Was it that I talk too much, Melie? It is hard to know the right way when the poor heart is full over so many times! Franz— Franz—that is the name it sings and cries and laughs all the time! And this ieind, noble stran— ger—I must thank him one time more, that ne brings the good news to a poor old father! If I could see his fine face! If I could only— ’Melie, child, why speaks he nothing? Surely my old, silly tongue has not mad maken ib Amelia glanced toward Ugly Dan, and the vague, uneasy doubts and fears which that cruel smile had awakened in her bosom, were: deepened’ and strengthened by what she saw. There was little of kindness or of sympathy in those ‘glowing black orbs. Yet she dared not speak her fears. The old ‘man was so terribly agitated with his new-found hopes, that she feared death would follow a too abrupt awaken- et He is waiting for you to calmer get, father,” she muttered, smoothing the milk-white hair as: though it covered the head of a babe. ‘“‘ He thinks it is not good, so much excitement - oe) €oim