Beadle's Dime Library No. 412 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

Ne ~ don’t. house.” Molly, her tears:gone the moment her anger flamed up again, steed in the door of her house and called back: ‘It’s lucky for you my husband’s not home, you coward. He’s whipped you twice, and the next time hell make mince-meat of you.” ‘*Who will?’ shouted back Tom. ‘* Larry Locke, the Man of [ron,” cried a voice ‘in the road, as a man came running up. This is the last night you sleep in that CHAPTER XVIII. HOME AGAIN, Yes, it was Larry himself, covered with dust ‘as if he had traveled on foot a long way, a stick and bundle at his back; but he was run- ning quite fast and Tom Trainor saw him. The young man had no fancy to meet Larry ‘a third time. Asa boy he had beaten Tom at his best, and Tom had been sitting on an office stool and living on the fat of the land since ‘that time, so that he was soft, puffy and unfit for a fight. He just laid his whip on the horses and sent “them off toward Holesburg at a gallop, while Molly uttered a scream of joy and came run- ning out to hug her husband whose face was ‘brown and sunburnt, while the old confident smile lighted it mp. “Oh, Larry, boy, Larry!” was all she could say, and it was not tillshe had him safe in the ‘house that she could ask him: ‘* And where have you been and what have yyou been as Larry, boy?” Larry gave her another hug. ‘‘ Never mind now. Where’s baby?” ** Asleep in here.” And she showed him Larry, junior, sleeping like a top. and marked the tears that came into the father’s eyes unconsciously as he kissed the slumbering child. Then they went into the next room and sat own to supper, when Larry asked: ‘‘ What was that dirty villain doing in front of this house abusing you?” Molly began to tremble at once. ‘*Promise me ye won't do anything to him, | Larry. Remember how they put you in prison | for striking Skinner.” Larry curled his lip slightly. ‘Yes, I remember. No, I won’t do anything to him, Molly. I’ve learned a good deal since [ went away. A poor man can’t afford to lose his temper. How came he here?” ‘He came back, Larry. to insult me, but I didn’t mind that a bit. [Td given him cause enouch to lose his temper, God knows.” Larry laughed. ‘‘ Hed hey! What did ye do?” “Threw a kettle of hot water over him!” ‘‘ Good for you!” cried the workman, in a tone of great delight. ‘* No, no, I won't burt him now, Molly. You can take care of yourself and Fe baby, I see. But what made you drive him out? Molly colored deeply. ‘*tfe dared to come here and make love to me, thinking you were away.” Larry’s eyes flashed for a moment, but he laughed again, saying: ‘Well, well, I like that. And ye scalded him, did ye? Reekon be won’t come again?” Molly began to cry. “Yes, but others will, Oh, Larry, Scriven -was here to-day, and Briggs wants his money!” ‘‘T thought he would,” said Larry, quietly. “*T came bere on purpose, in case he did. Well, “what did you tell him?” ‘What you wrote me, I asked him for ” ; ‘‘ What did he say?” ‘‘ He said he'd speak to Briggs, but couldn’t give us much hope. Then he went away, and ‘Tom Trainor came in, soon after, and told how his father had bought the mortgage from Briggs—” ** W bat?” ejaculated Larry. . ‘His father, Skinner, had bought Briggs’s mortgage and wouldn’t give usa day’s time on it unless—” ‘‘Unless what?” asked Larry, seeing she hesi- tated. ‘Unless he persuaded him,” returned Molly in a low tone, colorin deeply. “That’s why I ‘threw the water over him.’ Larry seemed to be struck by the news, for he became very thoughtful for a while, till Molly asked him: ‘ Well, where have you been and what have you been doing? I suppose the house has to go at last, but [m not going to fret about it while you're able to work for us.” Larry raised his eyes to hers, ‘* T’ve been looking for the man that stole our money, Molly, and I’ve found him.” | Molly started joyfully. “Did you, indeed?’ ‘Yes; but it was no use. The money was , of course. But 1 got the man and his iend, Terror Jim,” ‘* Well?” asked Molly, as he paused, play my cards.” “Well, I found out a good deal about Boss Skinner that I didn’t know before,” said Larry, slowly. ‘‘ I’m not so sure that we shall lose this little house, Molly.” ‘Oh, Larry;” said the woman, trembling, ‘*do you really mean it? Don’t deceive me. we've got to lose our savings, I’m not afraid to go out into the world again with you, dear. 6 came from the r-house, and we can always go backthere. But don’t build up false hopes.” **T ain’t building no hopes,” said Larry, in his ungrammatical way. “I’m only telling what Mr. Paul said. He was bred a lawyer, and he’s ot admitted out in Ohio. I told him what ’d found, and he’s a-workin’ on it now. You wouldn’t know him, Molly. He works dreadful hard now, and he never used todo no work at all when I first knew him.” “*Ah, he was a good, kind gentieman,” said Molly, sadly. ‘*‘ What a shame that his grand- father, after making him think all his life he was to have the mill, should turn round and | leave it to Marcellus.” Larry said nothing in reply, for at that mo- ment Larry, junior, began to stir in his cradle, ' and put all thoughts of everything else out of | their heads, but the subject of the mo fe) ‘was recalled to them forcibly about an hour | after dark, when a knock at the door was fol- lowed by the presence of asmall boy, who asked, in a shrill tone: : ‘Which is Larry Locke?” ‘*T am,” returned Larry. Van Slack,” said the rry ‘“*T’m from Snapper & small boy, rapidly. ‘‘ This here’s for you, mis- ter. Here's the 'riginal.” He thrust a paper into Larry’s hand, shook another before his face, and vanished, leaving the vorkman staring stupidly at the paper. It was a summons on foreclosure of the mort- ares in the mame of Marcollus Skinner, and olly my ys to tremble in. As for Larry, he folded up the paper and put it im his pocket, observing . ‘* You ain’s got this house yet, Mr. Skinner and you ain’t going to get it. To-morrow ri CHAPTER XIX. LARRBY’S VISIT. Tam Skinner Steel Works were in full blast next day, but the master of the concern had He’s rich and I’m poor. | gone out driving, aad Tom Trainor was left in tull control in the office, when Locke made his ap pce at the gate of the works and walked in, to be greeted, in less than five minutes thereafter by a great cheering, as the men left their tasks and crowded around him. Three months had made a difference in them and in bim. They all looked sullen, downcast and discontented, while Larry held his head up as proudly as ever, and his sturdy figure seemed the pe ification of strength. ‘* Well, Maguire,” he said to one man, who had been a workman when he was an appren- tice, but who had given in to the reduction, ‘Sand how does the world use you now?” ‘Badly enough,” said Maguire, gloomily; ‘but what’s a man todo Larry? [ve got five young-uns, and they’ve got to be kept in bread and butter and clothes. It’s been hard scratch- in’ sence. the cut-down, I tell ye. All the hands is in debt now.” ‘Ay, ay,” put in Tom Macaulay, one of the rolling-men, ‘‘ we're all in debt at the store, and the boss bas got us where he wants us. "Tain’t no use to fight. We ain’t got no show.” ‘‘How about the cranemen?”’ asked Larry. ‘*Do the new hands you got in our places work as well as we did?” The men were silent, and looked at each other uneasily, and Larry noticed that the cranemen, instead of we Ae their tasks to crowd round him, kept aloof and went on with their work by ee ethey're all. spies,” hispered Macaul ey’re all spies,” w . ay, “and they know we hate’em. We'll have to go back to work at once, or we'll be docked jist 60 mueh time.” Here they heard Tom Trainor’s harsh voice from the office door: ‘*Halloo there, you men, what’s the matter? What are you stopping work for?” | ‘watched ‘shem all, and saw the sullen, downcast look come over their faces, but not one of them ventured to answer Tom, and all dispersed to their work, scowling, but submis- sive, leaving the visitor standing alone in an open space of the works, so that Tom Trainor recognized him. young superintendent—for such was Tom’s title in the works—hesitated for a mo- ment, and the color flickered on his bloated face. He knew had no right to be there, and that the discipline of the works remained in his—Tom’s—hands. His father, in his place would have swaggered up to Larry and ordered him out, but Tom Trainor was not Marcellus. He hesitated, scowled, and then walked back to the oftice, from which he sent a message by the night watchman to say that ‘ Larry must leave the works at once: no strangers were al- lowed inside.” Larry had watched the struggle going on in but I'll be even with you yet. You see if I 13 Tom without appearing to notice it, and a slight smile of triumph appeared on his face when he saw Trainor quail. He followed Maguire to his place, where he was working, and observed quietly: ““T say, Jim, didn’t it never strike you fel- lers you could better yourselves if you was to organize and git together?” Maguire shook his head. ‘*No, it ain’t no use. We're all down now. We daresn’t strike. A week would fotch us. : We hain’t got no savings now.” “Well,” replied Larry, “but s’pose you was © to git together. "Tain’t to say you need strike. Look here, I want to see — to-night. Ive learned a heap since I went West.” Maguire cast him a quick glance, for the tone in which Larry spoke was full of meaning; but ) he only nodded glocmily, saying: ‘All right; ll come. But it won’t be no use,” ‘** Perhaps so, perhaps not,” returned Larry; : ‘‘ but there’s no harm trying.” And then he saw the watchman come up—a stout, powerful man, new to the works, who said ly: ‘‘ Here, you get out of this. It’s ag’in’ the orders to bave strangers bere.” 3 “But [’'m not a stranger,” returned Larry, -: coolly. ‘1 know the old place by heart. Why, re man, I used to work here long before you were ever thought of.” e The watchman looked him over from head to : foot to answer sourly: | “The blazes you did! Well, just you git now, and darn quick too, or ll break your darned back fur ye.” : Larry smiled in his most provoking manner as. as he answered: “Would ye, now, would ye? I s’pose you’re — quite a fighter.” “Pl show you whether I ain’t,” said the ‘" watchman, sternly. ‘Are you going to git, or -~ will I have to put you out? ny Larry in, still more provokingly. **T wouldn't like to put sich a good-looking re) man to so muck trouble. I'll goatonce. But ¥ ain’> it a littl rough puttin’out a manwho ~~ jest came im to say howdydo to a fewof his friends?” ee “That sin’t none of my biz,” returned the % watchman, rather more mildly. ‘The boss give me his orders, and I’m a-going to see them es done, you kin bet.” : "ay ‘That's right,” returned Larry, placidly,and ~— he began to walk slowly toward the gate,ac- companied by the watchman. ‘“Ordersshould ~ be obeyed. bhat’s your name?” Fit ‘‘ Never you mind,” was the stiff reply. “My name’s strike from the shoulder when I git m “aim and don’t you furget it.” : made no answer till he got tothe gate, when the watchman wasturning back to leave him. Then the short man suddenly laid his hand on the other’s arm and said quietly: Pe ‘‘Look a-bere, friend, I ain't got nothen | against you, but though orders is orders, there’s — a way of obeying em, and there’s another not co good. You said jest now you’d break my — back fur me. Now we're outside, and I tell ye, ye can’t do it.” | : The watchman, for the first time, looked at his companion with great care, and his face took on an expression of something very like evasion.of the issue, as be said sullenly: 4 “T ain’t no darmed fool, lookin’ fur fights fur = fun. You go your way and l’ll'gomine. Ifye come into the works I'll lam ye.” , te Larry laughed and let go the other’s arm. aot’, ‘* Aba!” be said, ‘“‘I see jest whatkindofman you are. You’re cne of the roosters that daresn’t fight off bis cwn dunghill.” ae Tbe watchmen started angry, Re “Ye lie, ye darned skunk. ou git out of this darned quick. I don’t want none of your _- lip, and I won't take it.” » ahs * Well,” said Larry, quietly, ‘what are you ~— going to do about it, then? I reckon you're ~ nothing butan old bleat, anyway. Youdaresn’t — even tell your name.” Ta ‘“Daresn’t If” cried the watchman, fiercely, — **T’'d have you know I’m Chris Hargous, I am, — and they called me the king when I used torun ~ on the canal. Now then, who are you?” Weer) “My name’s Larry Locke,” replied Larry,in his quietest tones. Venn Instantly the watchman jumped back intothe works, and his face turned white, for he had heard of Larry before. ce ‘*T ain’t able for you,” he stammered, “I ain’t on the fight, I tell ye.” k “Just now you said you was,” returned Larry, advancing toward him. ‘“ Now Tl just | give you a chance to show what you’re made of. ri wrastle you a square-holt, Mr. Har- / Pay gous. a But Hargous backed away from him, crying out: \ «a ‘““You let me alone. I ain't done nothen to — you. You ain’t got no call to pick a muss with = me. | | Larry pointed his finger at him. eae ‘‘Here’s a brave watchman,” he cried. “Why, a gang could clean out the works, and you ~~ wouldn’t say nothing to ’em, would ye?” ** You leave me alone,” was all > | he a 7 £ a « J F eon Ebooks