Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 380 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

et 16 ——————L He gained the exterior of the prison just in time to see a gust of wind whisk Tiger Dick’s hat from his head. The hat was of less consequence; but the mischief was done by its carrying a wig with it! ‘‘Into the carriage with you!” cried Jim Farnsworth. ‘‘ Ill get your hat!” Without a word Tiger Dick plunged head- foremost into & waiting coach. The lamps before the prison threw their light over the Tiger’s back. By it Sam Briton saw the contour of his head. “Eh? By the piper that danced before | Moses!” he cried under his breath. His first impulse was to rush forward and probe the mystery before the parties to it could recover. But the door of the carriage went to with a hang, and told him that he was too late. His next thought was to himself evade de- tection; and he slipped out of sight before either the Tiger or Jim Farnsworth turned to see him. “Look here, Barney!” cried Jim Farns- worth to the coachman, ‘‘if' you blow any- | thing you may have seen, you’d better look out for yourself!” *‘Ts it the likes 0’ me that’s given to gab- blin’, Musther Fairnsworth?” asked the jehu, with an injured air. ‘It’s all right, if you don’t. But I tell you there’s more in this than you think.” ‘*You may count on me, sor.” ‘See that you don’t fail me!” ‘‘Divil a word, sor.” *‘That’s a pretty go!” laughed the Tiger, as Farnsworth appeared at the carriage door with his hat and wig. _ “It’s lucky for us that no one was pass- ing.”’ gs Didn't some one come out of the jail, or goin? I thought I[ heard the door.” “No. It’s all quiet there,” said Jim Farns- worth, looking in the direction indicated. ‘Then there’s no harm done,”’ | “Not this time; but it won’t do to try the thing often. After the brush with that in- fernal reporter, it made me feel nervous.” ‘‘They’re a precious lot!” laughed Dick. ‘*The world must have been a slow place before their day and generation.” “And now what?” was the reflection of Sam Briton. ‘‘ No use in running after the carriage. But it will boom the Briton stock if I can get at it. Must make the riffle | somehow; but how? Was it, or wasn’t it? | Soon settle that question, anyway. Here | goes for feeler No, 1!” He tore down the hall to the warden’s office. “Nobody there but a turnkey balancing on the hind leg of his chair, while industriously filling a pipe with tobacco. ‘*Hallo! Where’s Dan?” ‘*Out.” ‘‘ Evidently. But where?’ “* Give it up.” *‘ How long has he been gone?” ** Don’t know.” ‘When will he be back?” ““T'll never tell ye.” ‘‘T say! you ain't very well posted, are you?” ‘* Nary.”’ “‘Tg there any way to get in to Tiger Dick to-night?” , ‘When Ford comes back.” “T knew that before. But before he comes back?” ‘*Nixy.” “« Anything new?” “‘ Not as I knows on.” The reporter turned to leave this unprom- ‘ising subject. ‘By the way,” he said, over his shoulder, ‘‘where’s Fadden?” ‘*To grub.” Briton went out in disgust, During the following day nowhere to be met with. ‘Hang me if there ain’t something in this!” was Sam Briton’s conclusion. At last he cornered the warden. ‘‘ Where in the deuce have you been this dog’s age? Raked the whole town for you.” ‘*You didn’t happen to strike the right place at the right time—that’s all.” ‘‘So it seems. But now I’ve caught on, everybody's hungry for more Tiger Dick. Don’t keep the public waiting any longer, Dan Ford was “my dear sir.” The Golden Serpent top of his paper. ‘“Eh?” asked the reporter, his suspicions at once on the alert. ‘Why is Tiger Dick like the Czar?” asked Ford, as if he were propounding a conun- drum. ‘Give it up. Why is he?” ‘“* Because he isn’t giving any audiences.” ** What's that? Why not?” “For State reasons,”’ ‘*Do you mean to say—” ‘‘ What I said at the beginning. No go!” ‘*What’sin the wind, Dan?“ asked Briton, lowering his voice to a confidential pitch. ‘* How do I know?” asked Ford, innocent- ly. ‘‘l obey orders. They send down from head-quarters—‘ No more Tiger Dick. Too much of him already?’ That fixes me.” And the most subtle cross-examination could worm nothing further out of him. ‘*Tt was the Tiger, and no mistake!” cries the reporter to himself, when forced to re- _ treat baffled from the reticent warden. ‘‘ But what’s the meaning of it? Where have they taken him to, and why? Must unearth it somehow. Worth its weight in gold! There’s Fadden. Il work him for all he’s worth.” ah ts proved that that was Fadden’s ‘* day off.” ‘*Good enough! Couldn't be better!’ was the reporter’s self-felicitation. An hour later he had found the turnkey, and had plied him with liquor until the most beautiful fraternal relations were established between them. In strictest confidence Fadden imparted all the information he had. To the fact that Tiger had been taken to the Capitol, and in pursuance of some con- ference there—from which, of course, the turnkey had been excluded, and of the pur- port of which he was therefore ignorant—had left the jail in company with Jim Farns- worth, he added the names of the gentlemen he had seen assembled Chambers. All these things Briton jotted down the moment he was free from the man he had pumped dry. | ““The next point is to find out what went on in that meeting.” He ran over the names on his list. « ‘State officers, Mayors of Sacramento and ‘Frisco, Boss Madden, District Attorney, and these king legal sharks! What does it all mean? Something crooked, I'll be bound! What could he take counsel with such a mixed crowd for? They’re all ‘way up in the mines. Something unusual, sure. What is it?—that’s the sticker.” Scratching his head was productive of no further light. At last he rushed off as if struck by a new and brilliant idea. ‘‘No other way,” he reflected. ‘‘ Risky, but must get at the facts!” And reaching the vicinity of a popular theater, he plunged into a dark alleyway, and soon effected an entrance through the stage door. a CHAPTER XXI. BY WAYS THAT ARE DARK. ‘‘Haxo, litle one!” was Sam _ Briton’s salutation to a gayly-decked actress who had just come through the wings. ‘‘Do you now?—you are outdoing yourself! That last was a screamer! Hear ’em roar! In you go again! What a dunder-head I am, not to have brought a bouquet myself! But the neglect is no sign of a wane in my affections —just remember that! Petite Margot, I’m more in love with you every day! You've the voice of an angel, and no mistake! There, there! in you go!’ ‘* You're a silly!” responded Miss Margot, with a flash of her bright eyes over her shoul- der at him, as she hurried back upon the stage in response to the manager’s impatient snarl at her flirting when she ought to be at- tending strictly to business. Unabashed, Briton made up to the autocrat of this mimic world. : “ T say, Griffith! Have to give you a little puff on this piece. Haven’t had a thing run so smoothly for a dog’s age. How you kee these vixens in order, hanged if I can see! hundred and fifty women!—whew!”’ | ‘‘ With the help of a few such fellows 4 ‘No go!” said Ford, laconically, over the in the Executive | Et i —_ a) as you it’s easy enough.” replied Griffith, turning the edge of his sarcasm with a smile, however, “ Any points?” But the manager had turned to swear at some one who was out of order; and Sam got where he could look through the wings at the divinity who was receiving the popular homage in the shape of thunders of applause and a shower of bouquets. With her eyes flashing, her cheeks flushed, | her lips parted, and her bosom rising and falling with the quick respiration of excite- ment, she retreated to the wings, bowing her acknowledgments, and then with a quick turn came her reportorial admirer, holding an exquisite bouquet to her nose. Sam shook his fist at her as she approach- d. ‘Did that come from the right-hand box?” he asked in a whisper, as soon as she was near enough. ‘‘What if it did?” she asked, with a co- quettish toss of her head, holding the bouquet close to her bosom and once more plunging her nose into it. *T'll go out and hang myself forthwith!” affirmed Sam, melodramatically. ‘‘Don’t!” she enjoined upon him. “Would you care?” he asked, with a sud- den thrill of tenderness in his voice. She gave him a quick flash of her eyes and was about to hurry away, when he caught her hand and said: , And yet, you, receive his bouquets, and—” ‘* Don’t be a goose, Sam!” she interrupted. ‘*He’s my angel—you know that well enough. Where should I be if he hadn’t put up the money ?”’ ‘Hang his money, and him with it!” growled Sam. ‘* With all my heart, if you can replace it,” responded the actress. ‘* You know I would if I could.”’ ‘‘But seeing you can’t, what’s the use of teasing? Come, Sam! that’s a good boy.” She squeezed his hand and smiled coaxing- ly into his eyes. ‘‘One minute. I want to see you,” he urged, still detaining her. ‘‘After the next act. second to spare now!” And she flitted away like a fairy. The reporter was prompt at the appoint- ment; and having got this queen of the tinsel realm in seclusion, he opened his project forthwith. ‘‘ Marg’, I want you to strike that muff for a bit of news.” ‘‘ Now, are you going to be cross and call names?” she asked, with a pretty pout. ‘‘ Well, this is pretty rough on a fellow, you know.” ‘“‘] know; but then, it can’t be helped. Do you fancy that you're the only one that has anything to put up with?” he took both his hands, rose on tip-toe, threw her head back until her chin was In a straight line with her smooth white throat, pursed up her lips, and so wooed him to happiness in the present, regardless of the future. : So posed, she made a picture that would have won an anchorite from his ascetic vows, With a hurried glance to make sure that they were beyond the range of observation, Sam bent and kissed her. She drew his arm about her, and nestling close to him, asked: ‘‘When you know so well, can’t you try to be content?” “You're going to supper with him to- night?” ‘7 must!” ‘* Suppose I say not, Margot?” ‘Well, if I thought that you cared very, very much— Only it would be losing every- thing, dear!” ‘* Still, if I insisted?” The girl did not answer directly. She looked very grave. He could feel her trem- ble in his arms with apprehension. She looked up into his face anxiously, in- quiringly. Did he mean it? Had it come to the issue of losing him, or putting aside her ambition to success in her profession? Her eyes became humid, and there was a husky tremor in her voice, as she whispered: ‘But you won't, dear? You wouldn't stand in my way like that? I so long to get on; and now is my chance. It takes money I haven’t another Gomichoo S