Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 122) (1879 11 25)
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“2 aa xf \ “, a ‘> = ZS — miaND = a, i ~~ re ait Re SS A Si i Ss TR ON NC ET On a! | 1 | | la | I | | | | | (ml Aaa (ha! AS Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., as Second Class Matter. Copyrighted In 1879 by BEADLE AND ADAMS, November S, 187. ee ee Single Fy ' No. 122. oil i Ltt La Alt AAAI \ cor ih NA y ' epanemescjimensompantinnainanani th ZEW "tf I CAM a BY CHARLES MOREE, WN wee Mey -A7FHOR ov “'xmu nor Dermomva,” “PCATUWE FETs,” Be. WAS, COURIERS \)\ AAU Ma Ww) PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, al Ae AS \ i \ \ \\\\ \\ . Rita \ DEN AAA it \ \" \\\ i\\ ’ uy A | \ \\ , ,) We \ 4 AWN i y 4 ’ Va “yh i WV} \ PONSA at aN 43) ~ ®@ome ahead with your patent, douple-jinted old duster,” cried Phil,
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Phil Hardy, THE BOSS BOY; The Mystery of ihe Strongbow. BY CHARLES MORRIS. «xummor oF ‘‘ WILL somers,” “NoBODY’s BOY,” BTC. CHAPTER I, GIANTS AND DWARFS. A arovup of boys was seated on the end of a Dial that jutted out into the East river, the swift e- water swirling round the wharf-pieces beneath them, while to the right and left rose a wilderness of masts and the hull of great ships throbbed and chafed against the nearer wharves, as if eager for flight. Back of them ran the swarthy boundary-line of the great city, with its endless procession of laden drays and wagons, and its roar of multitudinous wheels. Beyond the broad river appeared the walls and spires of Brooklyn, ‘Everywhere the habitations and the works of man. Nothing of pure nature save the wrinkled stream and the blue sky. Yet the boyswere far away in spirit from that stirring scene—all save one, whose uplifted nose be- trayed a deep stratum of contempt for his preoccu- pied companions. They were a ragged set of biplane vagrants, A uvhole coat, or. an unventilated hat, would have. been voted there as simply ridiculous; such shoes as they wore left open windows for peeping toes; while it would have puzzied a Darwin to figure out in what far past their skins had last been introduced to clean water. Yet the genius of poetry and romance may dwell under the mask of rags and dirt. One of the boys Jay stretched at full length, his head in his hands and his eyes on the open sky, as he slowly drawled eut a long-drawn tale of the deeds of some monstrous wr and the shrewdness ‘of certain’ keenwitted warts. , The eyes of the listeners were dilated’ to double their oreinay size as they heard of the terrible anchter of the giants by the bloodthirsty dwarfs; while their hands were angrily clenched when the giants occasionally ate a half-dozen or so-of their, minute antagonists as a relish for el And when a lady fair, with golden hair, was car- ried off bodily, and locked up in the private dungeon of one of these freebooters, the innate chivalry of the lads qropyet out en If they had only heen present they would have shown old Blood and Bones a thing or two. Dg he aT a thecion per fort ae pre t es and a cularly grimy face. ‘ i only Fad wiahle Jack’s cloak, that nobody couldn’t see anybody in when somebody had it on; and his shoes of swiftness; and his—”’ © Yes, if you'd only had the jiant under your foot, like a ho foaa, Is'pose you’d smashed him,” inter- rapted the conten ous, youth. ‘It’s enough to make a hoss sick, all this stuff *bout jiants. Jist as @ thore was any sich cri(ters.” “So there is, too, plenty of them, if a feller only went to furrin places where they live.—Or there was in old times, anyhow, if there ain’t now.” ake the narrator looked half angrily at his critical r. The latter—a small, stunted figure, that sat doubled bee the wharf-log, his keen eyes glittering like diamonds in his round, matter-of-fact face—gave a sniff of contempt as he answered: “Tt’s all very well fur you, Joe Dot, to lay there and spin off sich stuff by the yard, fur these chaps to swaller. But I aint none of that sort, What I see ’ Wye” mt Braeden robete ” ejaculated 8, you're as r, you ejacula the tay boy. WT bet. there ‘ia jiants; and I bet I kin lick the boy as says there aint.” “That's me, I spose,’’ was the unconcerned an- awer of the other. “ Jist as you like,” cried the challenger, springing to his feet, and soaring, as it were, out of profu- ston of coat. @ And who’s to hold this raglan while you’re get- tin’ curried?” asked the undisturbed youth, indicat- ays the coat which his foe had dropped. Jist wa keep your dirty feet and hands off it; that’s all.” “You're sort of spilin’ fur a fight, aint you, Dirty Dick?” disdainfully asked the other lad, as he rose and deliberately wiped his feet on the precious coat. Dick gave a short howl of rage, and sprung at him as ¢ fully as a cat. The other boys looked on delightedly at the com- ing fray. Squar fur him, Phil!’ shouted Joe Dot, as the aside, letting his flerce foe come parse pain. within an ace 0: overboard. and prepared for another Dick recovered h assault. His small antagonist stood as unconcern as though a ri was the spice of life to him. Bagby deadly fray ws destined to be nipped in the bud, : “ Get out of that, you blasted wharf-rats!” cried a burly man, as he dashed past them, rope in hand. “Out, or I'll pickle the crew of you!’ He ran squarely over Dirty Dick, as he hurried to a wharf post, pseu. to the sailors on-board the vessel from which’he had just leaped. it was a large; full-rigeed ship, which wa. entering the dock, brushing the black paint rrom her «.2es against the rough wharf logs, eee eee Phil Hardy, the Boss Boy. assistance, the man with the rope drew it in hand over hand, dragging up a strong hawser, whose loo end he dropped over the stout post, ~ Lay on now, you | lubbers!”’ he shouted, . pours let her slide off! Bring her up with a round urn!’ Dirty Dick slowly picked himself up, and looked ruefully at the burly mate. “When a lokermotive comes along it e whistles to git off the track,” he said, with a gri- mace. ‘Guess these sea captings dont carry no whistle.” “Spose he wouldn't like you to feel which was hardest, his cocoanut or a brickbat,”’ growled Phil, indignantly. ‘If we is boys, we aint pavin’-stones, fur furriners to scrape their feet on.” “What the blazes are you grumbling about?” queried the mate, turning suddenly on the group of boys. “ You were fighting one another a niinute ago. Do you want to fight me?” ‘‘ Jist as lieve as not,” replied Phil, boldly. ‘‘ Spose we was wharf rats; that dont make you no better than a salt-water lubber. I dont allow no sea-mon- key to climb over me.”’ he burly sailor gave an amused look at his di- minutive antagonist. Then he called to one of his men on board the vessel; : ‘ling me a rope’s end, Jack. Here’s a blow-fly whose, wings want, dusting.” A short. piece of rope was thrown ‘him from on board,the vessel, and several laughing faces appear- < over the bulwarks, anxious to see the impending un. The boys, on their side, huddled close together, and seemed-disposed to show fight. “ Come ahe duster,’’ cried Phil. ‘Come ‘long, you bow-legged jiant, and ‘see if there aint no fun in the dwarfs.” And in fact the dwarfs bristled up so spitefully that the mate hesitated a minute before entering in- to a contest with them. The'quarrel was interrupted by a loud call from the captain, who had sprung up on the heel of the bowsprit. “Warely, men! Bring her head well up! Once more and we have her.—Leave the boys alone, Mr. Hongsieke, . You will do better by attending to the ship.’ The short, angry ring of the captain’s voice startled the mate. With a fierce glance at the boys he flew to the bow of the vessel, where another haw- ser was just being landed. “Wonder how much he oa that dog-fancier fur ee him off vine he , agegravatingly. ‘ There was a loud laugh from t iose within hearing. The mate hesitated and turn d half round, knot- ting his Singers into the rop. But there came another of the captain’s quick, crisp orders, and the sailor turned again to his duty. ° The boys looked after him with an aspect of tri- umph, but probably not without an internal sense of relief, All save Phil, who unconcernedly faced his former foe. “Now, Dirty Dick,’ he ejaculated, ‘ spose we have that scrimmage out. We’ren'ta-goin’ to let no- body else crowd on you, But, you're my game, and I want you to squar yerself.” Diek looked with some dismay and surprise at his determined antagonist. “But I pecs bt that mill was off,’’ he said. **Not when I'm one of the millers,’’ replied Phil, . “I'm jist eee’ fur afight. You an me’s to have it out, if it’s only fur the fun of the ing.’’ “Pat that slide, Phil,” said Joe Dot, coming for- Fanta as peacemaker. ‘“‘And we'll give up the nts.” : “Tt’s a bargain,” responded Phil, ‘if you'll guy in that there aint no sech rascally truck as that. [ma straight up-and-down, cast-iron, hickory-bark fellow Iam, I kin ‘preciate jiant houses, and ships, and elephants, andsich. But when you go to tellin’ them double-barreled lies it makes me sick, clean down to my big toes.” And the look of disgust on Phil’s face was some- i 3 to see. éther he wouldn’t have tried his hand on Dirty Dick, aes to keep up the sperit of the meeting,” was still a question. It was settled in another man- ner. One of the boys shouted out, shrilly: “Hillo! By jimminy, there’s fun!” And he plunged forward, followed quickly by. the others. A West Indian barque was unloading at the oppo- site side of the wharf. A popeeed. of molasses, which was being lowered to a dray, had come down with a rup,starting the bung. A fountain of its sweet * tose shot a yard or two onto the dusty ground. In a minute the boys were in it, scooping it up with both hands, and swallowing dust and sweetmeats to- gether with an air of the greatest delight. “ Aint it old splendid, Phil?’’ cried Dick, his grimy face shining with a new coating. : “Dunno,” replied Phil, who stood a little aloof. “Dont keer much for ‘lasses.”’ There was a rush of the parties who stood near, to help save the barrel. The bung had shot out, and was not immediately to be found. **Get out of here, boys!" came the vigorous.com- mand of the drayman. But the boys were not to be so easily moved. “ Here; I'll help them out,” cried the black-brow- ed mate of the ship, twirling the rope’s end, which he still held. ‘*Out with you, you cutter snipes!’’ he continued, whirling it shrewdly through the air, and bringing it down on Phil’s back. The boy turned in utter surprise, ont want to fight?’ said Cursing the dilatory sailor who had come to his | with your patent, double-jinted old | “That's my back,’’ he said. | “And this is my rope,” replied the mate seemed to have a spite nst the boy. He whirled it again, but Phil gras it in his hands, and there was-a fight for its possession. With aquick jerk the mate tore it loose and brought it down again warmly on the boy’s back. But he did not appreciate all the powers of a wharf rat in self-defense. Phil darted back, and in a second had him by the leg, with his sharp teeth sunk into the flesh, The man gave a howl of pain and strove to shake off his puny autaconiet But, Phil would not let go until his teeth had almost met, biting viciously and **That’s one,” he cried, darting away like an ar- CHAPTER IL who deep. row. ‘‘lowe ro another yet.” With a derisive laugh the other boys ran after him, leaving the black-bearded mate cursing like a mad- man. The other men were too busy in driving in the oe bung topay much attention to this epi- sode, BETWEEN DECES. Tnx Strongbow, the vessel we have seen just en- tering port, hailed last from England. She wasladen with a miscellaneous cargo, was at once taken in charge by a custom-house official, while the neces- sary preliminaries to her unloading were being per- formed, |. The crew loitered lazily about the decks, or took short trips through the town, there being little re- straint on their freedom of motion. The mate had principal charge of the ship in the captain’s fre- uent absence, limping about with many a curse on the boy, whose sharp teeth had for the Beads effect- ually lamed him. He stood by the rail on the second evening, wish- ing that Phil would make his appearance, that he might give him the kicking he deserved, He little thought, as he entered intoa chat-with the inspector of customs, that his young foe was at that moment on board the vessel, coiled up in the forecastle among the sailors, who were seated about oe their sea-chests, engaged in a desultory conversa- on. He had made the acquaintance of some of the sailors in the streets, and .as they rather approved of his punishment of the mate they became friendly -with him at once. Tt was in response to a pressing invitation that he had surreptitiously visited them at their sea home. There were four of the sea-dogs present, three of them pounge men, the fourth a weather-beaten old tar, who seemed to have faced the storms of half a be Phil had coiled himself up near the patriarch of the crew, into whose face he looked with a sort of rever- ential interest. “Dont like much tobe on land?” he said, ques- tioningly. : ‘Not me,’’ replied the old sailor, in a voice that sounded like the subdued ow of a hurricane. “The ground aint stiddy. Llike,when I puts my foot down, to know that it’s goin’ to stick. Cant be sure 0’ that ‘cept on deck,” Phil look at him as one will look at.anew species of animal. “Dont 'gree with you,” he rejoined shortly. “I kin Pp as easy dance on a tight rope as git over a rollin’ deck.” “That’s the fault of eddication,” said another of the sailors. “If you’d been brung up out of sight of land, as all reasonable folks oughter, you’d knowed how to walk an oak plank in a gale. Somehow I cant help pitying landlubbers."’ , “Then it’s jist even, and nothin’ to carry,” replied Phil, with a shrug, “for I’ve heered landlubbers pity sailors,—Had a good voyage, Jack?” ; ‘Who told you my name was Jack?” asked the old sailor, ny. “T thought all sailors’ names was Jack.” “Bout how old mought you be, boy?” ‘7 dunno as I kin jist tell. Somewhere atween tea and twenty, I spose.” “Seed many sailors ?’’ ‘* A clever sprinkle of 'em.” “* And every sea-hoss of them was a Jack, hey?” “S’far as I know.” “Well, then, put this in your pipe. My. name's Ben. I've been Ben Bowling aloft and alow, in storm and in calm, these forty odd years. So jest correck your jography "bout sailors.” There was an angry ring in the old fellow’s voice, as if this was a personal matter with him, Phil twisted diminutive form into a sort of sailor’s knot, and looked quizzically up into his new friend’s face. , ‘““ Where does the Strongbow hail from?” he asked. “From Live 1 last; but we’ve touched some French ports afore, replied another of the crew. ‘Got a sort of mixed cargo, I spose?”’ : " Yes, sorter. Wearin’ stuff, hard tack and pickles.” “ We've got more aboard than the vessel was built to carry,” said a third, with a solemn intonation. a he, rey that up, Joe. The ned said | the.soonest ménded,’’ responded the first § er. Old Ben had dropped ifs tmead into his fins, and séemed lost in areverie. He now spoke somewhat sharply. | “I cant seewhat we're to cover it up fur. As I’ve | said afore, and aint backward to say agin, it’s brung bad luck on the trip.” ‘“‘ There aint no sich thing as bad luck,” ejaculated. gb —_
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Phil, in his positive, matter-of-fact way. ‘Bad luck’s only another word for bad management. Tha fellers that knows jist how to dot. dont have none but good luck, There’s only one bit of cargo, as I kin see, that’s a bad bit.” And what’s that?” asked Joe. “It’s that curmudgeon of a mate. He’s got the len: of my eye-teeth for his one cut with a rope’s end. See if I dont come up with him for the other.” And Phil’s eyes glittered as if it was in him to pay the mate dearly for his favor. ‘There aint none of us too much in love with him,”’ said the sailor who had not yetspoken. “So you can sink your tceth in t’other leg soon as you’ve a mind; and no questions asked,” ** Guess I'll match him on another tack, next time,” muttored Phil. “Thar aint no talent in using a feller’s teeth twice in the same job.” , **'There’s wuss than the mate atween decks of this here shi»,” growled old Ben, ‘‘ That last bit of carzo that was hauled in at Liverpool is enough to sink the best ship that ever floated.” “What are you blowing about now, Ben?’ queried another, “It’s half a notion of yourn, There was somethin’ come aboard kind of mysterions, I'll allow that, But spose it did? The Strongbow has got her nose out of water yet.”’ “ What was it?” asked Phil, curiously, “That's what there ain’t a Jack tar of uscan tell.” “Tt’s a miracle it didn’t send us allto Davy Jones,” was Ben’s melancholy remark. ‘“There’s been something wrong *bout the ship all the way over. There weren’t a Mother Cary’s chicken wood rest its tired foot on our spars; and that’s the worst thing that could cog aship. I’ve seen many a good boat founder fur less cause.” “That’s all stuff!’ broke in Phil, impatiently. ** As if a bird’s wing could shake down good or bad luck! Guv me hard facts andI swaller them. But [ cant go no nonsense.” “J judge you know everything in heaven and earth, my little bantam,” grumbled old Ben, looking at Phil as a Newfoundlan dog might look ata snap- ping terrier. “Tt know there’s nothing happens without a good reason," said Phil, decidedly. ‘“‘I’m matter-of-fact right through, Iam, Tell me apples ay on trees and it’sall right. But I dont take in Jiants, and mermaids and hobgoblins, nohow.” “Shoot me for a lubber if the boy dont know more than the ship’s cook!” cried Joe, “Did you ever seo sich a little powder-monkey?” “Maybe you'll tell what brung on the blows that followed us all the way across seas,” gaid Ben tri- umphantly, It’s a doomed ship that a bird wont light on, and thatthe winds has a spite agin.” ** Was the Strongbow the only ship afloat?” asked Phil, impatiently. ‘‘I spose they was all born to bad luck that got in the way of them storms?” ‘**T dont believe there was none got in the heart of the wind like we did,” protested Joe, “Then that’s cause your captain didn’t know how to handle his ship and sal out of the wind,” pee ed Phil. ‘It was all bad management, and thar was no more bad luck in it than thar is blood in a tur- d the young philosopher clas his hands around his Mice, Seitt looked up itive the wisdom of a Franklin in his small face. *Woll, here’s a are fish, with cast-iron wings, end with the whole world biled down into his nod: dle,” roared Ben, with a deep ugh. “Why, you desp’rat little imp, I'll bet a mar vy that you dont know enough to take a half hitch in a hawser.” “Tf it wasin my line I’d not eat another mouthfu afore I’d know how to make a double half hitch,” said Phil unabashed, “A fellar can know whar the light comes from without knowin’ how fur off the sun is. AndI dont b’lieve what dont stand to com- mon sense; that’s flat.” Silence Ne pee for the space of afew minutes in the forecastle, as the ring of sailors looked down nonplused, upon the stur yr Hvtle prarearny coiled u so provoldngly cool in their midst. ee es oyed triumph for a short space, and en said: “Weren't thar one of you smelt out this here bit of contraband cargo?” “Not a mother’s son of us,” replied Ben. “And we was cur’us enough, you can swar to that. But the Cap and mate was too sharp forus. I’ve heered eer noises in the cabin, and there’s been some afloat that weren’t on the ship’s log. But it aint fora topman to crittercise what goeson down the companionway.”’ “This queer cargo aint landed yet?” said Phil questioningly. “No, nor wont through the customs,” said Ben, positively, “Bet you high it aint on the ship’s manifest. Butif there aint a queer bundle of dry- goods slips ashore some dark night when the cus- toms officer is a-winking, then I dont know a bow- sprit from a tiller,” “Think so, eh?” asked Phil, with curious interest. “Td be to go my last hair on it.” “* Then if I dont hire Phil Hardy out fur an Uncle Sam's Inspector, thar aint no snakes,” cried Phil, “* Thar’ll be lively times for that frisky mate if he tries to work any traverse, that’s me.” ~ “Look out he dont pay you out with the other end of the rope,” warned Joe, laughingly. -** His rope ain't long enough. e’ll soon come to theend of it,” was Phil’s positive answer, ‘‘Guess 11 git now.” e mate failed to see a small bundle of humanity that cont across the deck, and into the gloom of the ni iat he had no ogee for the wayeterons tates ring that he no eyes for the my: ous going on behind his back. Phil Hardy, tho Goss Boy. CHAPTER II, GRANDMOTHERS AND SWEETHEARTS, In one of the streets inthe neighborhood: ofthe East river in a tenement house that looked, outside and inside, considerably the worse. for wear, dwelt our young friend. Phil wasan ornhan, with only his old grandmother to take care of him, and together they sumptuously oceupied two or three apartments in the u ppeeportion of the great edifice. The old lady, small, soRUHS active and good-hu- mored, thought the world of Phil, and made life as light for him as her brisk old hands could r She had a small income, which was eked out by Phil’s seanty earnings, and partly by that cheery disposition which makes poverty a lignt weight. ut on the morning after the boy's visit to. the sailors she was in a mint of trouble. “You can say what you please; he might. be drowned. Orlocked up maybe. It wouldn’t be the first time.’ And she wiped a stealthy tear awa from the corner of her eye. ‘I do wish Phil weren't so full of fight. The po ice have a hankering after boys that show fight.’ She was mechanically setting the breakfast-table as she went through this soliloquy, with a sort of in- stinctive hope that the smeil of. victuals might draw the missing one home, ‘“* He’s been out all night before, or I might wor- ry,’ she continued. ‘He says he can always take care of himself. But Idont know. What's a little mouse like him in a great nest of cats, that this New York is? Ido wish he’d come!” Her wish was answered by a lively whistle on the stairs. The door was flung open with boyish vigor, and Phil came bustling into the room, “Now dont worry, and dont scold, granny,” he cried, catching and kissing the old lady, as if to take the sting out ofhertongue. ‘ Couldn't help it. Been on duty. You kin see I’m sound, and jist livelier than a cricket.” And Phil stood on his head and turned a somer- sault to his feet again, in proof of his liveliness. “What you got for breakfass, granny? I’m as hungry as a two-year-old colt, Been up all night on biznos:, | Want a bite of victuals, and then a long snooze,’ “Got some fried liver and ing’ins. That’s what you like, I know. But, where has my Oe been ?”’ And the old lady bustled about him with aface shin- ing with affection. ‘Too hungry to talk now. Tell you the whole story efter breakfass,’’ said Phil, seating himself im- patiently at the table. “But, my boy hasn’t washed his face and hands yet,” said Mrs. Hardy, anxiously. “And they aint over clean,” “Oh! alittle dirt wont hurt,’ replied the young philosopher, “I don’t mind it, and so you need- “Why, he’s as grimy as a blacksmith,” exclaimed the old lady. **Come here at once you little black- amoor, and give your face a scrubbing!” and she took the laughing boy by the shoulders and set him in front of a full in of water. “Feared I'll dirty the water,” protested Dick, look- ing at it ruefully. Come now. It spoil the taste of ing’ins to.eat them with soiled hands,’’ declared ardy, mer es “Dont hurt their smells, anyhow,”’ remarked Phil plunging his face and hands into the basin, and serubbing ye 8 TiRED. The old lady bustled about him, bringing a towel and wiping his cheeks and nose so vigorously that it looked as fe she had a design to deprive him of the latter important member, “* Guess that’s enough for one rub,’’ cried Phil,.es- ecaping from her with red, shiny face. ‘Like to have some skin left. Now, granny, for the liver and onions,” Mrs. Hard t ereekeee was largely made up of satisfaction hh is fresh aupetit. he ate dainti- 1 me but the hungry made up for all her de- ciencies., “ Boys must eat. That’s the way they soliloquized. ‘Now, child, give me that coat. You've been in the mud again. And see where he’s started the stitches! Ideclare you keep me busy, scrubbing and sewing.” “T dunno how it is, granny,’ was Phil’s apology. “Mud kind of goes fur me. Bet if 1 was, to be ina place floored with clean towels, and with lookin’-glass walls, ’'d git muddy, somehow. Must be the dirt that I’m made of, coming out. Cant account fur it no other way. Go ahead, and Ill tell you ali about what's kept me. Mought have tobe two or three nights out. ie hil Broceeded with a description of his late adven- tures, iinishing by relating that he had been up all night watching the Strongbow. They’re a-trying to shut_up Uncle Sam’s blind eye,” he continued. ‘‘Now I'm a Citizen of these ere United States of Amerikay, and I aint a-going o stand it, That’s my lay.” The old lady looked with pride at the dignified at- fines of the young hero as he rose erect in his en- asm, “ That’s right, Peney she said, stroking his short hair admiringly. ‘‘ Now lay down and get a snooze while I clean ppthe breakfast things.” w,’’ she Phil slept as heartily as he had eaten, his snooze lasting till near dinner-time. Mrs. Hardy went che on witb her housekeeping duties, singing softly herself as she looked on the handsome sleeping lad, and knowing from old experience that thunder would not waken him. After dinner Phil, with his usual hearty xiss, Jeft coun to hersewing, and went down-staire w. e. ce of the tune which he had started on eoming up. 3 He had reached the landing below, and was max- ing for the next flight of stairs, whem he was inter- rupees by a sudden obstacle. he door of an adjoining room had opened, and a young lady, of less than own age, stood in the her arms extended from wail to wall. It was one of those sweet, fresh, sunny faces, in which beauty and brightness are linked in every fea- ture. Long, waving, soft brown hair twin:d like a frame round the picture of her face, while a merry smile twinkled in her eyes and displayed the pearly evenness of her teeth, ° “You cant pass, you truant, till you tell where ou have been and where you are going. I have en up to see Mrs. Hardy and I know you were out all night. Oh Fe to think of it, Phil!” “Dve been out night afore,” he said, with a sense of shame. “Yes, that horrid night that you fought, and got locked up. I hope, ever s0 much, it wasn't the same thing again,” And the little beauty’s eyex were full of trouble, “you know it wasn’t, if you've been to see gran- “Oh! that was early, before you came home this - morning,”’ ‘You're a dear little tease, Susy. Set down hers and I'll teli you all apout it,” _And, seated at the head of the stairs, nestled co- sily against each other for support, Phil proceeded to again tell the story of his adventures. Susy did not quite share his disgust at the giaut episode of the narration. She had more poetry iu her composition than Phil. But when he came to the whipping he had received from the angry mate, her brown eyes flashed with indignation, and she coiled her young arms protectingly around him. Nor was she at all shocked at hearing how the youthful savage had bitten his antagonist, “Tt served him just right,” she exclaimed, shak- ing her long curls in triumph. “Biting isn’t nice, £ know; but then—” and she looked the rest of her opinion. But when Phil came to the revelation of the sat!- ors her interest culminated, There was a delightful spice of mystery about it that went straight to her romantic heart. “Oh, Phil, I hope you will find it all out!” she cried. ‘I know it isn’t drygoods, as old Ben said, For if it was what would they want to act so strange for? There’s some great wrong-doing, some dread- ful business, I fear. And I want you to go right on and discover it all, and tell me all about it.” And her face glowed with enthusiasm. “Tlldo my best, Susy,” he quietly replied. “It mought prove a risky bisness, but I aint going to be druv back for a trifle of risk.” ; “Then you must not do it, Phil," she exclaimed, with sudden alarm, “I would not have you hurt for anything.” “Dont you be afeared, little gal,” he said, laugh- ing. ‘When they larn how to tread on a lively weasel they'll know how to hurt Phil Hardy. And not sooner.—Guess it’s time I was slidin’,” But it was not so easy to slide away from his volnble young friend, <A full hour elapsed ere Sree — get away from irrep’ © littie u “You aren't going that way?” she cried, looking at him reproachtf out of her great brown eyes. ye “No, little sweetheart,” he replied, tu throwin arms around her neck, while he her with warm affection. ‘Jist you wait, Susy. Tl tell you everything, as fast as I find it out,” Ina minute more Phil was out of sight at the bot- tom of the stairs, and Susy, flinging the lone haw out of her eyes, turned and went singing into the a bags Rh A had emerged. ere were plentiful signs of poverty about child, in her patched short clothen pis bare Ang pd —_ — - ~ ye -— —. of that ites nt gM spirit and chee soul which defy poverty and ite attendant ills, hn» But we must hasten forward through this slow- moving day until night again settles over the great city. te is a starless Eo Thick clouds have gathered over the sky, and the June air is close and sultry. Along the wharves the great ships heave and pulse like breathing things, chafing uneasily against the stout timbers of the piers as the inflowing tide lifts their massive hulls. . The rae ay a rests in coy silence, Not a eigen of lifeis on her deck, The neighboring wharf is he- coming covered with her discharging cargo, and right, and left the wharf guardian paces like an unquieti spirit of the night. But there are unquiet spirits on board the ship ac well. A whisper of voices sounds from the compan- ionway. Thena figure emerges and steps from the ema to the wharf, accosting the watchman as ho 0€8 80, “Tg it you, Captain Monroe?” asks the latter. “Yes, Ican’t sleep. It’s too blamed hot. Guess I'll take a breath of air.” “There aint much here,” ~Pe the watchman. The two men walked up and down for a few min+ utes, eng: Then a welcome invitation to imbibe" eame from the captain, and they neg to a public house across the way, the light in whose window showed that it still extended its invitation to ioe and won ey were absent not five minutes; yet in that ey something had happened on board the Strong- Ww. The black-bearded face of the the mate appeared, looking warily around, He disappeared in the cabs again, and almost instantly emerged, bearing in hig arms a long, heavy bundle.
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This he carried across the deck, and lowered care- fully into a boat which rubbed the vessel's side. In a moment more he had cast off from the ship, and was rowing heedfully out into the stream. He did not notice a pair of keen eyes that glittered like diamonds in the darkness of the n wharf. Nor did he hear the fall of a pair of light feet, that earried their owner from pier to pier, following: closely the movements of the rower. Tn this careful way he rowed along for a consider- able distance, pausing occasionally and looking watchfully out into the bay. Atlength, after a longer inspection than usual, he turned the boatand rowed directly outward. The spy on the pier looked after him with a rueful glance. rhe boat had not keene twenty yards, how- ever, before it again paused. The dip of oars was heard outside, and a long, stout boat of the harbor police came dimly into view, slowly patrolling the st) ream. : The mate’s boat was yet in the shadow of the wharves. He now pulled noiselessly back. As his skiff touched the side of the pier he sprung ashore, quickly twining the painter about a spile. There was no watchman at this wharf, a fact of which the mate had probably been aware. - ing into the boat in a minute more he had drawn up his heavy bundle, Closely —. itin his powerful arms, he walked slowly across the dark pier, utterly unaware that his every movement was closely observed. A short distance brought him to the opposite side of the street adjoining the wharves. This was occu- pied with warehouses, produce stores,.and all man- ner of business, prominent among which was the usual sprinkling of grog-shops. Stopping opposite one of these latter, which was now firml pS and dark, the mate gave a low knock at the door, repeating it in the manner of a previously-arranged signal. There was no response, and he waited impatiently for a minute before repeating his signal in a louder manner. Now the door was carefully opened and a man's trowsy head protruded, ‘*Is it you, Mr. Hendricks?” “Yes, Is all clear?” “Asa daisy.” ; “Open out then, and let mein; for this is getting confounded heavy.” : In another minute he had disappeared with burden and the door closed tightly behind him. “Holed! If he aintI’m a sinner!” spoke a low, boyish voice, as a diminutive form crossed the street and looked critically at the house, “T know Tim Fagan’s like. a book,’’ he muttered. “And it aint any too respect’ble neither. I’m bound to git inter this shanty and find out what's in that bundle, or bust.” He walked backward, noting the house with the eye of an architect, CHAPTER IV. PHIL AS A BURGLAR, Tr was now approaching the hour of midnight, and the darkness increased as the clouds seemed to _ gather more densely. This portion of the wharf avenue was but sparsely lighted with street-lamps, and the — leam from the nearest one fell but dimly on ‘agan’s groggery. But Phil drew back to the shelter of a small office on the wharf, lest he should be seen by some vigilant inmate of the house. Here he lurked, eagerly scan- ning hee building before him, and waiting develop- men It was an old-fashioned house, apparently one of the relics of the New York of the past, two stories in hight; with ked roof, forming a narrow attic, and with a wide chimney, built in the days before coal came into fashion. | All these details Phil noted with an observant eye. A narrow alley, which ran between this house and the adjoining one, also came under his observation, “Mought have to commit burg! afore the night’s over,’’ he muttered. ‘And it’s as wellto know the pints. I’m kind of took with that chimbly. Looks big enough for two boys!” He was now attracted by a light which shone faintly through certain cracks in the lower win- dows. It then disappeared, and a minute after was seen through the windows of the second floor. There seemed to be two rooms in the front of the house end the light was in the one to the left. Phil strained eyes to see into this apartment, but the window nearest which the light appeared was closed with a curtain, drawn heavily down. He could just see one or two moving figures, but could make out nothing of their actions, He had not many minutes to observe. The light disappeared, In a moment more the door was cau- tiously opened, and the forms of two men_ became visible. Some talk in a low tone ensued. Then one of the men, whom Phil at once recognized as the mate, came down across the wharf. It was but the vork of a minute to cast off his line and enter his | boat, which he rowed away with the same caution that he had used in appreaching. The house was now again closed, Phil retained his post for a few minutes longer, his eyes fixed dubi- ously on the front. The light again shone for a mo- ment in the room in which the mate’s burden seemed to have been left. It then moved on and entered the adjoining room, In five minutes more every trace of light was gone. The house lay in impenetrable darkness, save where the faint lamp-light touched its front, and a fainter gleam from the moon, which had now broken through a rift in the clouds, fell on ig roof and through its open windows. “Joa ¢-roin’ to go through that house or bust," Phil Hardy, the Boss Boy. said Phil, with set lips, ‘‘ and that afore the next tide Satisfied that there was no mode of entrance avail- Loon from the pean Phil avexe eal eo rear, cro es cautio » an up the alley by the side of the house. This terme nated in a gate, which was closed, but, as it proved, not locked. ¢ “Here's a neat bit of chance,” muttered Phil. **Not luck. Dont b’lieve in no such thing as luck. Now let’s see how the land lays.”’ He had passed Soca the gate, and found himself in the yard of Fagan’s house. The ting roof came down lower on this side than in front, reac nearly to the roof of a shed- like structure, an addition to the original house, which served the purpose of a kitchen. It was of frame, and one story in ht; its door and windows firmly closed. Phil looked at it with a critical eye. Two dormer windows broke the line of the roof above. But to reach them seemed not so easy a matter. “Granny says I’m somethin’ of a cat,’’ muttered the boy, as he glanced upward. ‘‘ That’s a steep bit of shingling, and there aint no ladder to shin up this shed. But thar was never a feller yit_ got rid of trouble by lookin’ and wishin’. Guess I'll see jist how much of a cat I am.” He soon proved that no ladder was needed for the first part of his task. A bench stood against the rear of the shed. On this he planted an old chair. Mounting on the latter and grasping the upper sill of the dgor, he swu himself lightly upward, until his upreaching han seized the edge of the roof. Now a moment’s writhing and squirming followed the boy swinging loose in mid-air. One jerk upward and the other hand had caught the roof. In an in- stant more the vigorous and agile lad had lifted him- self upward and had a knee on the sharp eaves, This was victory for him. Ere a breath could have been drawn he was lying flat on the upper surface, anting from his exertions, and resting awhile be- ne venturing a second step in his burglarious enter- prise. . All was still about the house. Phil’s movements, 80 far, had been almost noiseless. Before him lay the steep roof, which it was in his plan to ascend. “Mought have been better to have posted the Customs, and busted in the front door, ‘stead of climbing the roof,—But they wouldn’t never b’lieved a stunted little rascal like me, no how.—Best git rid of these shoes, though. They’re noisy, and they wont dig into shingles like bare toes.” Thus cogitating, Phil removed his somewhat an- cient shoes. Dropping them quietly over the edg of the shed into the yard, he was ready to roceed: Now up the steep slant he went, digging fingers and toes into every crevice of the shingles, and mov- ing with cat-like persistency and noiselessness, One of the dormer windows was soon reached. Grasp- ing its sill, the ang drew himself upward, gazin curiously through its narrow panes, All was dar within. He listened intently for the least sound. After satisfying himself in this respect, Phil made a cautious effort to lift the sash. Here he was des- tined to disappointment. It seemed to be fastened within, as it would not yield to his hand, “Here’s a go,”» he muttered. ‘ Like to know what they want to lock their windys for, way up here on the roof. ‘Specially when gents is a-callin’ to see them. § I'll have to pid the chimbly.”’ The wish was father to the deed with Phil. Ina minute more he was making his way round the edge of og ee window frame, and he soon reach- ihe distance from. here to 'thé 44 le was not great. Clinging to the steep slope soon sur- mounted the remaining difficulty. It was not ten minutes since he had left the ground and he was al- wendy ying prone on the apex of the roof. - = urso good,” he said. ‘* But I never calker- lated that Phil Hardy would brung to play sey eareey. Hope they aint got no fires go- The t, old-style chimney, with its generously- wide A a was bar afew feet from him. A minute brought him beside it. Phil’s next movement was to extend his hand above the opening. A strong draft of cold air came up from below. “All ht,” he thought. ‘Aint no fire there. Sot oast me anyhow, if they mought bile me arter while.’ Lifting his head above the aperture he gazed down the open chimney. The place was of ample size, fully largs enough for the passage of a diminutive creature like himself. “ Hope it aint a-goin’ to be too big,” cogitated Phil. ** Wouldn't like to Crop theoug’ ke a stone, and fotch up on the bottom like a bag of taters. Mought be hard on the taters.” Cautiously climbing to the chimney top he let him- self down easily within, The fit was a closer one than he had thought. But this was all the better, as it removed the danger of slipping and falling. Without hesitation Phil began the perilous descent, using his hands and feet like a true chimney-sweep. | Pressin= firmly t the sides he worked his way ‘ down foot by foot, half-choking himself by the ac- | cumulations of old soot which he disturbed in his | passage. | The distance seemed to him interminable. Every minute of his descent was stretched tenfold in length, To make matters worse the flue contracted as he t lower down, till, at length, he could hardly force § way through. “Hope I aint Foing to stick fast here,” he mutter- ed, uneasily. ‘‘ There aint so much daylight as would | show an owl's wing; and the Lord knows whete the | As this last thought through his mind he was overjoyed to feel a sudden sense of ease about seed — limbs. The next instant his feet touched om. oat ping Mg os! apne found that > pace, a hearth apparently but vith some obstruction in front. - mh Pushing easily at this, it gave way ard he had to catch it quickly to prevent its falling. It was a fire- board used to close up the old h h into which he had descended, and which was no longer in use. In what part of the house Phil was intensely dark, and he was afraid to- move lest he a ao some A ncn a *Mus' on the un oor, anyhow,” he thought. ‘I've come i enough to be ix a three story-deep cellar. And I’m on the right side of the house. for the chimbly was on that side, and it come down ee ee to see myself in a glass ust now. ’Spect I’m as black as a nigger that’s een painted with charcoal. Got to warpmyself out of here, anyhow.” After a perilous stumble against a table, which made more noise than he liked, Phil got down on his hands and knees and commenced a process of crawling about the room, feeling every object before him with great caution. He soon reached a doorway opening in one corner of the room. Passing through this, he found himself in what seemed a narrow hall He crawled through the impenetrable darkness, and scon, with great satisfaction, laid his hand on | the lower a of a flight of stairs. “Thought I had them when I got into the entry,” he said to himself. ‘Know jist where I am now cag 4 all Diath Balle) . p the stairs he went, noiselessly as_a professed burgiar. Reaching the landing ot top, he found some alleviation to the intense gloom, The clouds had opened somewhat and the moon was shedding a faint illumination. Some impress of its beams came through a window near him, faintly lighting up the passage in which he stood. He looked carefully around. There were several doors in sight, on either side of the passage that — to run across, from side to side of the ouse. To his ee lay the doorway of a room which he instinctively selected as the one of which he was in search, Blopring with infinite caution, lest some unfortunate creak should reach the ears of a wake- ful member of the family, he reached the door in question. It was on the latch, and opened at a touch. The moon, which was in the eastern sky, shone into this ey more brightly, plainly revealing every object n it. A slight shudder, compounded of hope and dread, posres over the boy’s frame, as he saw, lying on a | bedin the corner, the outlines of a long, slender | figure, of the very shape of the human form. A second glance satisfied him that it was the same bundle he had seen carried by the mate. Phil’s hésitation lasted but aninstant. He was too direct in disposition to nd a moment in thought that could be spent in action, Ina minute he was beside the bed, listening in- tently for any stir in the house, and bending curi- ously over the mysterious parcel. It was about five and a half feet long, made of some dark cloth, pomp corded at intervals of a foot. But the portion which lay nearest the head of the bed had been uncorded, as if for purposes of ex- amination by the two men. The dark material was partly opened, showing something within that gave the boy an involuntary quiver of apprehension. , He soed . peur as oy = afraid of the mys- ery which he nvo is eyes slowly tracin the outlines of er ae. . ena en, a quick movement, he threw he two folds of the dark covering. ‘ open: artly prepared, as he had been, for what he was to see, Phil started suddenly back, with an incau- ys 1 or there lay revealed before him,in waxy pale- ness, the outlines of a dead woman’s face. ‘ A beautiful face, with delicately-chiseled features, showing spectral-like in the dim ti ht. Phil i 4 d forward to inspect it more closely ; but at that instant the moon passed behind a cloud and the phceuy face vanished as if it had indeed been that of a specter. The boy stood dazed and fearful, the magnitude ons discovery slowly making its way through his mind. He was roused from his reverie by a sound in the next room, The noise he had made seemed to have wakened the occupant. Phil heard him spring to the floor, and grope Oreith a aul ee pace t the midnigh ith a quick movemen € midnight prowler re- placed the folds of the cloth which is ea disturb- ed, and drew back against the wall of the room, — every nerve ph. and his senses alert to the least sound from the adjoining room. He heard the door open and a step on the floor of the passa The gleam of a light came in through the open door. Phil glanced around with the look of a wild beast brought to bay, CHAPTER V. Ir was a perilous pontine eit h Phil Hard m in whic found himself, What could a little midge like am | do in the er hands of Tim Fagan? And if this was @ case of murder, as the boy imagined, they e had not the | most remote conception. The room he oceupied was | | { ne
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: : | me might murder him rather than let him escape with bis information. Yet Phil's mother wit did not for an instant desert him. He glanced q about him for a closet. There Was none in sight. The bed was too low to crawl under. “He remembered that when on the wharf he had seen the light move ly from one room to the other. There must then be a com- municating door, / He looked round, There lay the door immediately behind him, He tried the latch. It turned, but the door refused to open. Tt was locked. Phil was in a desperate quandary. The rat had been caught in a trap of his own making.—But all his movements, so far, had taken place in a moment of time. The slow-mo step outside was yet some distance from the tn aco was still a chance to make a dash for it. He gavea quick step toward the door, and then halted with the thought that he could not possibly cape, in a Cent ope erat aon a& man thor- oughl uainted with every of it. As he paused in his flight his eyes fell on the bed. A new idea shot through his mind. He shuddered at the thought, but it was the only hope left, and there was no time to waste in sentiment or supersti- tion, With a quick spring. Phil was in the bed, between the dread parcel and the wall, and had wormed down deep under the covers, keeping close beside e bedclothes the corded bundle so that no lifting of should be apparent. The boy had often assured himself that there was no superstitious foolishness about him, that he was too matter-of-fact for that, and it was with a sense | of shame that he strove to repress the involuntary shrinking which affected him, as he felt the outlines of the body above him. “*Didn’t think Phil Hardy was sich a baby as to be afeared of a dead woman,’’ he thought. “Live things is all that’s worth af what harm a dead corp kin do 5 gfe As fur sperits, there’s only one kind that I know on; and I dont swaller that kind nor no other kind.” With a grim smile at his own conceit, Phil nestled closer under the edge of the corpse, and stretched himself out at full length. He was none too soon. Thestep of the new-comer | now sounded on the floor of the room, and Phil’s plan senses traced his progress up to the side of the e The boy was half-smothered for want of air, but he lay utterly motionless, breathi could under the circumstances, and listening with the utmost intentness. He felt a movement as the new-comer seemed to have touched the bed, or probably made some ex- amination of its dubious contents. Then there came a voice, faint, far-off, hardly reaching Phil’s quick ear under his shroud of bed covers. ‘Tt all looks right,” the voice said. “I dont know what itwas wakened me, but I was sure I heard something mo . I had a sort of foolish notion that it was the woman. But she looks past mov- in a ®'ghe's as dead as a door- ” was Phil’s un- spoken me A * And door-nails dont move without hands, so dont worry yourself, Tim a ong “TI wish Hendricks hadn't brought t here,” was the next faint remark. “I am afraid he will bring me into trouble. I dont like this half and half busi- ness. Llike folks to be either dead or alive, and done with it.” He seemed to have turned away with this last re- mark. Phil listened with great relief. “The woman’ isn’t di then, but only playin’ ssum,” said Phil to himself. “All I’ve got to say | po then is that she’s an old hand at the job.—And now, Tim Fagan, I don’t keer a brass cent how soon you git back to agin.” He ventured to slightly lift the bed clothés, so as | agan’s steps were receding. | to get a breath of air, He stopped near the door of the room. “T could have sworn I saw the bed move,” he muttered uneasily. “I dont like that thing in the | house.—I thought there wasn’t any foolishness about me, but [dont like it. Why didn’t Hendricks sink it to the bottom of the river and be done with it?” “A mighty handy way of bein’ done with things,” was Phil's noiseless rejoinder, “T think he hada notion to try it on, if he hadn’t been afeared.—That’s right, Fagan. It’s bout time you were gettin’ out. And I hope you'll have dreams for the rest of this blessed night.” Phil got his head once more into lowed by a fumbling about the next room, and then by silence. The boy was too acute, though, to be im any hurry tomove. Heleta full f-hour pass before again stirring. It was still dark. The moon had not again | broken forth, He heard a sharp pattering sound in the street. “*Tt’s rainin’, sure as fish-bo *he said to him- self. “I hope it'll come down like pavin’ stones. Like to have a little thunder and lightnin’ too. Any- thing to help a feller out of this scrape.” He was now gliding noiselessly from his covert. In a minute he once more beside the bed. “Wonder if she és dead, or jist shammin’,” he, said, gazing af the scarcely le outlines before him, ‘They say dead corpses are cold asice. I'll "Ye in erted his hand through penin e inse ugh the o in the cloth, and laid a finger on the smooth Sheek? of the woman. “Feels jist like velvet,” he muttered. ‘ And it aint so cold neither. Jist cool, that’s all. a snakes the lady aint no deader than I am. of. Dunno | as well as he | uict times and ‘sweet | Th ¢ e air as he lis- | tened to the receding steps without. They were fol- | Phil Hardy, the Boss Boy.’ | | dont make Rome how! it’s a caution.—And now, | ere got to worm myself out of this here habita- ion.” A fly would have, made more noise than did Phil | inhis outward progress. It was deep ey dorm | as gay he had passed beyond the influence of the open window. . But he knew just where to find the stairs, and made his way down them with but a faint creak i which were drowned in the dash of rain out- de. ‘“* Best make fur the back door of the house,” re- flected Phil. ‘‘ There'll be only a bolt or so to open there. And I want to git my sh anyhow. Would- n’t do to leave them. Dunno but my shoemaker’s got his autygraph on them. Aint a-goin’ to let myself be smelt out that way by Tim F'agan’s long nose.” Groping along in almost a —— attitude, Phil made his way back through the house without tumbling over any chairs or kicking any tin He felt his way back into the shed kitchen, and suc- ceeded in reaching the door of which he was in search, ‘‘Only one bolt, and that’s a comfort,” he said, ashe cautiously pulled back the slender iron bar between him and liberty. “ And now, I'll wipe apn Fagan’s dust off my feet. It’s mean dust any- ow.”’ The rain was descending in a brisk shower. But heedless of that, Phil groped round till he had found | his shoes. “If they aint full of water, I'll sell out!” he ejaculated. ‘Think I best go barefoot and carry them Wellingtons.—There’s one blessing in the rain , anyhow. It'll wash the lampblack off my face an topgery." t would have done any one good to have seen him, if there had been daylight enough to reveal the inky rivulets that coursed down features and his habiliments, and blackened the ground beneath him. “Till be clean as a Ag op by the time I git home, that’s one comfort,’ he thought, as he mate lis way down the alley, and into the deserted reet. Phil trudged homeward ca ing the drench rain, coustantly congratulating himself on his _ fortune in getting such an easy and clean was ng. _,. “There mought be something in luck, after all,” he soliloquized, as an extra heavy dash of water deluged him, “Where are you going, boy?” cried a policeman, comfortably ensconced under an awing. | #*Home,’’ was Phil’s short or “ What are you carrying there?” **Shoes,”’ said Phil. | “Stole them, hey?” | “I'd guv a quarter to ol chap that would steal ’ | pg eaten replied seatesin anita “Then why dont you wear them out, it | them that way?” i. < pale, skin turns the water better. Good-night, Johnny!’’ and Phil was off at a run, for fear his ; questioner might dmuse himself by arresting him. | He got safely home without further stoppage by | the guardians of the night. When his grandmother entered Phil’s room, next | morning, she gave vent toa cry of terror, and ran uickly into the passage, wringing her hands in smay. ; She haa been unaware of the boy’s return, and the cg ge beheld was enough to frighten the anxious old lady. ‘What is the matter, Mrs. Hardy?” inquired the | occupant of another room, who had been startled | by her ery. ““My poor boy!"’ she moaned in answer. “‘Some- | thing dreadful has happened to him,I know. Oh Mr. Sones, just go into his room and look at him. t ' am afraid to see him again.” Mr. Jones himself was scared at the first sight of Phil. He had taken off and wrung out his wet _ clothes, and had them strung round the room in | various positions to dry. As for himself, he lay in bed, covered to the throat, and only his face visible. But such a streaked, draggled, and generally bem pn face was sel- dom seen ona human en t looked like the map of Turkey, done in charcoal, on a flesh-colored back- ground, | “It is some dreadful fever, I know,” moaned the _ old lady from the doorway. “Or maybe the plague. at, they say, turns people black.” Mr, Jones’s reply was to burst into a peal of jaustiter, as he passed his hand lightly over Phil’s ce. | “Tt is lampblack, that is my notion, Mrs. Hardy,” was his response. “ Alittle clean water will be the best cure for his sickness. Been playing negro minstrel, I fancy. : Mrs. Hardy darted forward and passed her hands over the boy’s face. “Assure as you live it is the case,” she cried. “The young rogue has been turning If into a blackamoor.” This fingering of his face woke Phil from his deep shinber. He opened his eyes and gazed dubiously up into the two faces bending over him. :’ What’s busted?” he asked, ‘‘ Is the house afire?” ‘Where have you been, you reprobate?’ exclaim- a ee eee ed Mrs. , with 4s much temper as she was capable of showing to Phil. “And how did you get your face into a horrible plight?” Ue came Phil’s hand, and rubbed over his face | lustily. He then held it up before his eyes, a blank look of dismay spreading’ over his fea , Which | was succeeded by a merry laugh. |. “Well, I'll be swigged,” he said, “if I didn’t think half the skin had been washed off of me. And here 5 Tam streaked like ahyenar. Spose it’s the badness washin’ out of me. It rained enough to git orn just look t ‘ih boy,” groaned Mrs. Hardy 'o jus’ a € boy, ‘ “ And his clothes wet. “ Got caught nad © last night,” Jeturned Phil, ) t set them with a grimace of his streaked . “Now you slide, granny, you and both laug' git up and wash myself into a Chris- agin. Reckon I'll have to toys on some of my Sunday fixins, too, till these duds dry,” “But how did it all happen, Phil?’ asked Mr. a geno “Tell you arterI git up and scrub my face a bit,” replied Phil, visitors retired, jleaving Phil to make himself presentable, and to invent some plausible story to satisfy the curiosity of Mr. Jones. CHAPTER VI. ; PHIL PROSPECTING, . Pui. was quite a rejuvenated youth when he pre sented himself at the akfast-table of his d- mother. His face shone as if it had been po with emery. He wore his best suit, which set off his handsome figure to advantage; and his eyes sparkled like two rubies. “ Gettin’ to feel like myself agin,” he said, as he saw the old lady’s eyes fixed proudly on him. “Sort of empty, too. Guewe I kin eat my share.” “Tam never afraid but what you will do that, / Phil,” she laughingly responded. “Spose appertite must be a good thing fur boys to have, or they wouldn’t have so much of it,” re- plied Phil, in a tone of apology. ‘See to grow with me.” reakfast over, Phil proceeded to satisfy Mr. Jones and Mrs. Hardy as to his adventures of the night before. But the story he told them was no more like the reality than his streaked face had been like the red-cheeked countenance he now dis- layed. r ” 1h did not strike him as quite advisable to make public his pousebreexing ovsenies or to take too aad confidants into the t which lay before mm. When he at length started out on his usual ae business of vagabondage, he found himself again waylaid by his little friend Susy. “Out late last night again, Phil,’ she said, shak- ing her finger admonishingly at_him. ‘TI could {not sleep till I heard you come in. Especially when the rar one flee ik dr d duck, § ” conf “T was e a drowned duck, Susy,” confessed Phil. But I'm all right agin how, little swoet- eart,”” “And where have you been? And did you find out eny thing?” she eagerly inquired. pi tell you, Susy, you won’t tell anybody? Not even your father or mother?” ms somehow obody. If you tell me not to,” “ Let’s take a seat then, Susy, for it’s a long story. And I know some of it stand ‘ht up on end.” spread her hands Systm d on_ her Jocks, as if determined that they s such perpendicular freaks, as the usual seat, at the head of the stairs, Phil did not romance to Susy, as he had, done to his former auditors, She was the confidante of all his adventures, and he told hera pio. uvnvarnished tale of his last night’s work. But it was to her romance of the deepest dye. She held her breath in terror or excitement at many points in the narrative, and when Phil reached his discovery of the deathly face it seemed indeed as if her hair would stand on end. “Oh, Phil, what did she look like?” Susy breath- exclaimed, “ As pretty as a picture.” “ Are you sure will make your hair ould ee two took their “tim Wagan said she wasn't. ‘That's all ‘agan § é wasn't, at's ow. cept that her face didn’t feel like a Speen ‘ ‘* But you haven’t come to that yet,” “Well then you mustn't git skeered at what I’m a-going to te you now, fur I got into difficulties, Susy, But I’m all right now, so dont be gitting ner- She could not very well control her nerves, how- bab Phil told of his peril and escape. “You're a dear brave fellow, Phil, and a as on as reading @ novel, and I'm going to you or it. And Susy’s arms were around Phil’s neck in a hug which was full of nervous excitement. : - by are you going to do now, Phil?” she eager- 'Y asked. wa know, Susy. Tell you to-morrow,” said But it was with considerable trouble that he es- caped from his young friend, and made his way to Oar te bond was not very well defined in hi: vagabond wai we n 8 ideas as to what was best to do in’ these very critical wii Anat ovebiiedl was toward thi hborhood mov € neighborhooc of the previous night’s adventure, The eee "atoo.] there still; as innocent looking and free from duh’ ous secrets as summer sunshine can make a house appear. The window of the mysteriously-oecupied chamber was cl th a drawn curtain, This was only evidence of concealment. Tim Fagan himself stood in the door of the tap-room, tall, raw-boned, muscu- lar; with a thick red whisker and a fierce look about the eyes. Phil blessed his stars that he had not fal- len into that man’s hands the night before. He n wuss on me than a lemon- thought the boy, as he noticed the brawn: of the aes ae slingers, which I meezer,”’ are arm “Tf I'd a-got into them beer- spose he calls hands, he'd just
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——s= = ~~ =—_— ’ ? : : } i] 4 ) . % 4 ! } { a-squelched me, If things keeps on this way I'll come to think thar is such a thing as luck, Phil walked slowly away, fae ae itating. His step became more decided as his thoughts took ae inite shape, and he seemed to have arrived at some fixed cone lusion, “Teaikerlate the custom-housers ought to be the ones to take a job like thisin; fer I know its smug- gied goods, And I guv in that the business is gitting too weighty fur me. In less than balf an hour Phil found pipet tS oe the o‘Yice of the New York Collector of Customs, ha’ ving au — Pete and been ushered into the presence of th imlivi This gentleman was alone, and looked up inquir- ingly at his Fourhtul visitor, as the latter walked in- clependently fo ‘What can I do for you, my boy ?”* he asked. ‘* Got five minutes to waste on a feller of my size?” Pee ee ee ee Dick. | an io Pe ae hil Hardy, tl the Boss Boss Boy. at his car. + Holts, Lg 1 was Phil's Pigs salutation. “On! Ag! need be_squintin’ at my rig. Been a-callin’ sit had to piensa up a little.” oder iE he e been to a fire last night?” said oo Sa ar all £1” was Phil's impatient answer. e You didn't. pay Tor them, wont be axed to, So dry up,—Where’s the boys?” “Dunno,” replied Dick. be: “Goin” to the wharf?” so.’ "i ner. Trot along, I aint ashamed. of you, —Fur that I’ve go P gppe on that it might do some good if you'd at t face of yourn ona ndstone; a 6 to Bee \Gw fur down the hide is.”’ Yourbe fiddled! I scrubbed my face, last Sun- responded Phil, helping himself to a chair. aay "averred Dick. ‘““T have no time to vaste on any one,” was the With the hilackin’ brush?” smiling rep “* Tt's agin my principle to apayect sich questions,” "Cause 1 ose you'll think it’s wasted,” said Phil, | said Dik. with assumed ty. depositing his hat on the table. Thus sparring the boys at length reached the “It’s jist this way: i’m on the track of some smuggled goods, little help, fur it’s kind of ticklish, And I didn’t know where better to look fur it.” “What kind NF a Db nuggled goods?” asked the col- lector, teat “Well,” oy. recttatingly, **T dunno jist what kind of merchandise you callit. It’s a sort that you — often lock up in your warehouses, cause why, t wont keep,” “T have no time to beat around the bush at this rate,”’ the officer ie gaamare 9 replied. ‘‘ What is this merchandise? where was it smuggled from? and where is it?” “That's three questions in one, and you dont give @ feller time to take breath between them,’’ re- egy ape De at oe “Tt’s a queer sort, I tell you th “Will you anew? my questions?” “Well, then, it’s-a woman,’ said Phil, driven to bay. .“ t is, it’s a corpus. Or I mean it’d be a corns if it were only dead and not playin’ possum, aD ve got a notion it is.” “What foolish nonsense is this?’ asked the annoy- od officer, _“T have no bei time to waste on you, boy. Merchants, now-a-da, ys, do not import women, ‘here are raore here now than they can eae haudile, And as for the corpse that is not a corpse. that is a riddle I shall not undertake to guess.” “Tt looks like one, anyhow,” mattered TER sents tell you this, Thar was a feminine corpus, done up in drygoods, smuggled out of the Strongbow last night, And it’s layin’ now at Tim Fagan’s, on the vhark..And if-somethin’ pips done mighty soon I’m uwfeared there'll be murder. your bir ess’ to Mee up smugel That’ 3 wat you're put here fur by our FSiee" citizens. No Ww, pi you boat & square bit of poss 28 . cohector th: ‘ma with your conundrum.” ‘+ atl “Tl give you this | for vO moe ee ugh. I’m thinkin’ of goin’ into pol- | ertics, be at the head of our wardring | afore 'm im it six months. So you look out, Mr. Coll ctor, I’m a-goin’ to make that seat of yourn a hot one.’ And Phil anager 2 out, with his hat set jauntily on one side of his @ official followed him with astonistiod @; a ‘What, could have ailed the boy?” hé mused, “Tis sto . ae a most incomprehensible muddle. ts he cracked in his Sao fiaty or has he really discovered something which he has mixed in the’ belli At all events he i. ike sauciest young re- pro oi have seen for an age.”” Meanwhile Phil was making “his independent way down the street. He, too, mused-as he went, somewhat inthe fol- lowing strain: ** Got a kind of steep notion that I’ve been maki # fool of myself. 1t’s a hard t a say, but rons inmy noddie it’s the truth. btlector knowed what I was talkin’ about he” ‘knowed. a blamed sight more than I did, far I got wimmin folks and corpuses tied up in a kind of hard knot, vd couldn't git the ridicklus thing open.—And if T aud sell myself fara owt hese] to it anyhow. I wouldn’t go back on a phing Td d said fur enough oa to that big shanty full, “Tain’t m ay oe ? hy ping ep ig I b’lieve in goin’ t the hide o ' Yhus ‘Ogata ating, made slow headway toward the wharves, thoney ng through his xeind that ho Bas heh take the advice just eivelt him, and eh, to the police authorities. “T jest spose, worry me with all tr of questions till git ae | dent; And thenI know it'llall be up. Andit’s ’sto: ms | ichin’? how little a bey kin ea without a bet’ | eauiod imperdence. ow I thought I was rid perlite to that eustomer till he ordered ie Sone : nd-far all teat I bet he’d swearl was saucy as a | prt ¢ ot, it’s jist odd what queer wwe men has.” “Well, il swow, if here aint Phil Hardy in his | # nday fixins; and lt ofnt Saturday yit!” Phil purned hast! y es he heard this fa I want a | wharf, the scene of their late RS | ah | | st 1k an | fifteen yearsold. Andbe has teeth like nikar voice | That fs all I know of him.” quatrel. The Strong- bow ‘was now busily unloading, The wharf beside her was thickly strewn with her miscellaneous cargo, and a dozen drays were engaged in hauling it away, Phil’s enemy, the mate, was occupied in oversees- ing the process of unloading. He seemed not to have forgotten his late encounter with the boy. Phil could see him gradually approaching, in an appar- entl unintentional manner. ‘Look out for black whiskers,’’ said Dick, warn- inely “He's sneakin’ for you. Wants to pay you for that bite.” “All correck, Dick. I'm a-watchin’ him. If he comes.s it over FR Hardy, he kin climb to the mast- d cro The boys Cr a looking on at the unloading, seem- ingly. unaware that the mate was nearly within With a sudden quick motion this individual made a grasp for Phil. But he calculated without his noes, was ten feet away, with his fingers at his then aa the mate came near measuring hislength on the, wharf, ‘“* Guess you.want my tother eye tooth in your other leg,’ said Phil. “Tf T get hold of you I will settle for your bite,” cried the mate, savag ey. p like you sett ed fur somebody last night,” rep nat a do you mean?” faltered the mate, growing suddenly pale. “You kin take it jist as you please,” returned Phil, turning on his heel and leaving the wharf. Yet two boys hid in the shade of a néighbori house till they saw the mate.of the Strongbow ly passin down the line of the wharves, “ Now fe lier me, Dick,” ordered Phil, mysterious- ly. ‘*Thare’s fun afloat.” CHAPTER VIL * A STERN CHABB, Bor we must leave the boyish confederates, and follow sg Mr, Hengxicks, the mate of the wed, ut mere the boy aay rede he wled sav- "agely between his teeth. ‘‘It was. no chance guess, nd to th hound knows something.. He may here com: e wharf this mornin cust trea the | pose..8 of , Saying it. Tenchi the Safe Harbor, which was the ait title of Wagan” ‘s groggery, ben Hendricks turnéd res- ol in, not dreaming, could have had an object ig ollowing him. The brawny, innkeeper was behin ing to the ba ae needs of a brace of rollicking tars, Mr. Hendricks for a glass of ale, and stood sora sippi ping if wl f till Be sailors were gone. Ar imal yet Pop ooy ak ed eric m Eg ag open to the bar, and led the way k into the house. Now I’m on hand,” he said, when they had reached rear room. be How many folks are there about your shanty, “Nobody but me and my wife,” except the young fellow that tends to the bar " ‘by an shey know, about. and he indicated the rest by 4n upw rl o: Mos ul n does, of course. I p uldn't hide it t she’s ‘as true as steel, And she knows the kind of a fist I ca too.” * And the bartender * Hoe ove no more es Bae is than & cag Ko OM ‘ “That is n,” w ’ fierce iswor: acre teri bo. ow a good deal too much about it. Why, blast, it, man, 1 was twitted to ics not an hour a saucy little mon- py of = hele he i By to Know who has iio Yor an ee a up,"’ was I am *he thought, “that they" | Decal estan it my Pade of the hens, ‘and, there has | Bega m0 oS eh who was this boy?” Good are not got a directory of cesar a, iw Yor’ a my brain,” endricks inpatiently re oiled « *He isa 6 créa- | tures with red and I su about er’s claws. He saw the. begrimed face of Dirty . take off an inch or two of sile. I'd —_ ** He has not been/sin this house to-day then, I’h swear that,” was ne sitive assertion. ‘If he knows anyt have got it somewhere else than he ay thing bem about the Sieel knows of this “ No pars me 6 Ca’ ” re been lurking about last night, and have aout mnie ting “That wont-answer, Fagan,” was the sponse. “Tam afraid that the little villain knows © whole business. —Is—it safe?” pointing upward. “You can’see for yourself,” said the Innkeeper, leading toward:the stairs, ‘And I hope you'll gut rid of if blamed soon, for I dont want to get into auy scrape about it.” Hendricks cwetly followed him to the upper room. There, on a,bed in the corner, rf that which had so startled Phil ardy the night before, a long, cord- | bundle, lying utter] mobionle ‘She hasn’ ‘t stirre declared. Tagan, in a low tne. fi I'm desperately afraid the woman is dead."’ No, no,”’ replied Hendricks, ‘ijt. isa strong nar- cotic, which should not lose its effect. before to-mor- row. If itshould go off, hough, keep her quiet, if au! have to use the chior oform; and foree the wetitee I ave you into her month, , quick re- : soften your nerves,’ ‘I have no nerves,” protested Fagan, “bhuntly. “ And as for her face, I dont care to look at it.” 6 two men ras f caring with hard eyes down y on that which should have softened a heart of "Suddenly Hendricks started and nay his com- nion’s arm with a fierce gripe. H ted sternly ownward, ‘““ What is it?’ asked Fagan “That! Where did tha come fram?” His voice had a threatening ving. His fingeralmost touched the face of the WOMAN, on wpe pearl-white cheek was visible a round black “Tll be shot if I know!” oe 'k an, with a quick start. ‘‘It looks desperately e a finger mark,”’ “Tt is just that,’’ averred Hendricks, ‘And look Ae a h ' that the way Mrs. Fagan washes her ~ ects?’ He pointed beyond the body, where grimy black spots marked the bedelothes. + Fagan stood for a moment as if stupefied with sur- Prise. Then, with a quick movement, he drew the ensible body forward in the bed, and threw back the coverlets. The sh: ets within had changed from their original white to a sooty blackness that would have broken the heart of a neat housekeeper, ““Yes, you can well open your eyes!” cried the in- censed mate. “Have you put a chimney-sweep to bed there?’ Fagan did not answer fora moment, but stood re- yarons the bed with distended eyes. He then urned, as if the mate's last words had given him an idea, and ran hastily down-stairs, Hendricks followed him more slowly, cursing ina low, ominous tone at every y BieR,; He reached the front room joining the bar short- ly after Fagan, That individual was standing before oe hee eae me oe bic =e tind be moved, the re-boar e was looking diseonsolately at a hea oe nls UR re oak ca se ouse has n enter t!”’ he cried. re And b by your boy! Nobod eae could come sooty te his flue.—See here where he has wiped his feet on the carpet!” ou’re a sweet specimen to have a delicate busi- ness in hand,” exclaimed Hendricks, in a sayage tone; his hand within his ss as if’ half-tempted to draw and use a weapon on his dubious associate, “Ttis your own bungling, then,” retorted Fagan, with equal fierceness, ‘‘ You have let the boy traci: ou here. If there is any harm comes to me from his work, I'll be hanged if you shan’t answer for it,” Hendricks was silent. He seemed to be struck by the geatnle truth of Fagan’s theory. “Ts t all?’ he asked, ‘‘ Was there no noise? No ote teee #f a housebreaker?”’ “Yes, Iwas wakenedin the middle of the night, I dont know what by. eat 00% seemed to be a sound of some kind in iat ne m, Igot a candle and Pros cted, but eve Thing lookec all ight. Thad f notion it was t t henge oot but she lay as guict as she does now.—-My wife found the ps Sed oor anboitea this moor, but thought it must have been forgotten last night, “ And you got fried ned away bya dead women's face,” said Hendricks, sneeringly, “And all tho time our chimney-sweep Jay under the covers at byou ee a superstitious fool, as you were. agan's ha ace darkeried as he answered; “ as well itor b him! If I had cav the boy. there I would not have left two bones of him -hang- ing toge gether,—There is one thing certain, Jack Hen- | cks., That boy Ras too much for our safety. He ae be got = of. “fi . gy hat’s my notion. es young page sol | himself to me cheap, this mornibg. Be has rot tr | besettled. And the woman—” iS
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ea line with t - man’s f ern ess ee _ “Yes, the woman,” interrupted Fagan, with an anxious expression, _ The precious pair of rogues sat and earnestly con- versed for the next half hour, “Then at two o’clock, ngs to-night,”” announced Tiendricks, with incautious loudness, as he rose to copart, “Make it two, I, will be ready,” replied Fagan, following from the room. They were quite unaware that the window had been raised and the shutter only bowed, and that a pair of sharp ears outside bad overheard this ap- pointment, “Scoot, Dirty Dick!” whispered Phil Hardy. “The game’s afoot.” ' Al o the two young spies hastily left that perilous LCALbY, The day on; the night came.—It was clear and moonlit. But as midnight went by the moon sunk low westwardly. behind, the, roofs and spires of tae city, Only the faint starlight and the distant gleam of street lamps, broke thie thick gloom which bet y upon the dark waters of the bay. The night had oil the stillness of June and every @ Jay in placid varmth. The great ships rose and fell with a long, low pulse *¢ the wharves and at their anchorage in the bay. A’ boat..containing two youthful occupants, and closely hugging the the sides of an unoccuy ied pier, vose on this same Jow swell from the ocean without. The seas and streanis were far more tranquil than were their young hearts at that moment, as they anxiously waited for some expected event. The hour of two tolled solemnly from rome far- ei belfry tower, Almost simulianeously footsteps and low voices were audible on the adjoining wharf. ‘The boys remained silent. until they heard the faint sound of oars. Ina moment more they canght the glimpse of a Jow, dark boat stealing swiltly out over the dusky waters of the East river. Their own oars moved as if muffled. No sound came from them as their boat shot out in the wake of the former. For half a mile this. silent flight and chase con- tinued. The middle of the stream was reached, and both boats headed down toward the bay. ** Listei!’’ said one of the occupants of the fore- most boat. ‘'That sounds like an oar."’ His es ween stooped down and looked out in a e surface of the water. ‘ By all that’s bad, Fagan,” he replied, “ there is a boat, not a quarter of a mile oif, and beaded peat this way. Pull hard, man, we may be pur- sued,’ “ Best lighten our load and head for shore,” mut- tered Fagan, savagely. ‘‘We’re too heavy astern, There’s no beiter place than this forthe job, Our unlucky bathist will sink like a stone; and there ants craft on the river can overhaul us with a light oat.” Well thought of,” assented Hendricks, harshly. Wish Pd puta stone to her fcet to make it surer. P..tlahead, ‘Tim. .Tll do the work.” Shipping his oars he stooped over and lifted the heavy bundle ia his arms. ere was a quick shud- der. The folds of the cloth fell back from the wo- ace, reve, parted lips and distended oyes, whose gaze fell first on the cruel face of the mate, an | then on the dark, heaving waters. Ife resolutely lifted her over the side of the boat. One loud, long, wavering scream rung out oyer the dim waters, waking echoes miles away, and reach- iug the startled ears of drowsy watchmen ou the city Wioaerves, Tnen there was a sullen plunge in the stream, and all grew silent. The ee? or ihe ae one we Gerard in an o row-like flight, leaving o a diminishing ring o wavelets beliint it, “ > 4 The oars of the pursuers paused for a single in- stant, as that shrill, startliag cry broke upon the un- she mance of me night, ion their Oars fell again in unison, and the light boat sped rapidly forward, *% ) CHAPTER VII. A WAIF FROM THE WATERS, Ir was a critical moment in which the two boys found themselves. Phil Hardy’s keen eyes had seen the murderous act of the mate of the Strongbow. Alarmed bv the LTTE ery of the recovered woradn, he had dropped his oars and looked quickly forward, just in time to catch a dim glimpse of what was passing before them. Hardly had the splash reached his ears ere he had resumed his oars, sayin: “Tf you ever let out any muscle, Dick, now’s your time. 'This‘boat’s got to fly.” All’ right,” replied Dick, handling his oaken blades witli: the skill of an old boatinan. They had :veral hundred yards to pass over, but every well-tiinol stroke of their oars made the light are oe ney like an arrow. ‘She's gone down solid!" said Di lancing over his ene +. There aint @ripple.”” 5 i “Vm ateard so myself,” Phil cloomily responded. “If she is drowndd them two follars ‘anead had best Jook ou! for their mutton, that’s gil.” At this insiaas a dark cbjcct appeared on the water immelistely ia front of them. slight splash andible, “Dow oa your oars!” cried Phil, in low, quick tones. “jiake her spin.--Sare as shootin’ it’s the Growaded wonan.” A few tore strokes and then Phil suddenly ship- d his eacs, aud leaned over the sids of the boat. ‘Vhe dark object in advance was again sinking. Tt There was a . Ri " Phil Hardy, the Boss Boy. had just disappeared under the water when Phil's uick hand stretched down ‘snd grasped some loose rE ac ed k oars!’’ he cried, with startling vehemence, “Tt will jerk loose from me.” Dick's strong reverse strokes in an instant check- ed the speed of the boat, and his companion again pulled the object he had caught above water, —~ A woman's drenched, floating bair appeared; a. face deathly white in the starlight, with open, star- ing See **Good, so far, Dick! But I’m efeard she’s a gon- er. Salt water keeps some things, but it dont Keep human folks. Let’s see if we kin git her abo without upsetting.” . : ' It. was no easy matter, in their light craft: but the boys were regular water-dogs, and thoroughly knew how to handle a boat. After five minutes’ busy ex- ertion their heavy prize was drawn from the water and laid lengthwise on the thwarts of the skiff. “Pretty well done,” remarked Phil, panting from his exertions. ‘But I’m desperetely of the notion that she’s a dead weight we've got.” “That aint so sure,” replied Dick. ‘‘ Turn her on her face and let her head hang down, I've heered that’s the best way to let the water run out of ’em,” The staring, lifeless face was hid from sight as Dick’s advice was taken. The long, drenched heir shung loosely on each side of the head. Phil took it in his hands and sought to press the water from if. “Sich hair you never felt, Dick,” he said, ‘It’s jist like so much sUk.—And see, if she aint got her arms loosy, I don’t know nothin’! That's the way she brung herself to the ie agin.” Phil was right. The sudden plunge into the cold water had completed the recovery of the attempted victim of the murderers. The bonds which confined her arms were Joosened, and a short, violent strug- gle had released them. The woman had just enough consciousness left to make desperate motions with her released arms, This had brought her again to the surface, just as ‘the boat of the two young rescuers had reached the spot. “Sure enough the water’s running from her lips,” remarked Phil, as he raised the drooping, head and laid it in a more comfortable position. ‘* She’s got our seats, Dick. We'll have to paddle ashore.” “~Twont be the first time,” replied Dick, taking an oar and establishing himself upright in the stern, Phil took the same position in the bow, and the boys used their paddles with considerable skill, making fair headway. The rocking motion which they gave the boat roll- ed their inanimate freight from side to side, just the motion, though they were not aware of it, to aid in getting rid of the water she had swallowed. As they neared the wharves they were startled by a faint, moaning sound from ber ape. “Sure as you're alive, Dick, she’s comin’ to,” cried Phil excitedly. ‘Tell you what, hoss, this is a big night’s work for us.” B'lieve she is,” asserted Dick. ‘Know I seen her arm move then. Let her lay till we git to the pier. Want to squeeze out all the water we kin.” It was a somewhat long and toilsome piver ees. They looked anxiously around for the boat of their foes, fearing that they might be followed and as- saulted. But it was nowhere in sight. A deep groan followed from the recovering woman, and then a convulsive movement. of the body. A few minutes more and then words came faintly from her lips. ‘Where am I?” she asked, with a gasping utter- ance. ‘ “You're in consid’ble better hands than you was an hour ago,” answered Phil, joyfully. “So dont git worried, We'll have you ashore in the twirl of a cat’s tail.” ; “T dreamed that I was thrown into the water,” she continued, in the same faint utterance. “ Or was it a dream?” “Not much,” replied Dick, “It was the widest awuke dream I ever heered on, Jist keep quiet a a longer, ma’am, You aint in much trim for talk- , it , » She made no further effort to speak, But after a enveloping cloth was thrown back, revealing the orm ot e woman who had been 80 long hidden in ly wet. Lucky it’s a warm night,” said Phil, “or the lady mong catch cold.—Do you think you kin stand up, ma’am?” The boys took her gently by the arms and aasisted hee to ter foot, aha at making feeble efforts to aid em. ; The boat rocked with the movement, and it was not easy for any of them to keep their feet. Phil leaped Hghtly to the wharf. ; “Give me your hands, ma’am. Dick and me, I guess, kin git yon up.” y , : She mechanically laid her hands in his. The tide toy of the wharf. Wasin and tLe boat rose near the | | a ees ' Joe Cowper's. Some dirt the rivee wud tried to wet : , looking. at ih the big city of New = Sk Raa e c of . ad ag Pa Thief oneof her! , what we call hounds throwed you into “Yes,” faintly responded the lady, feeling her co Which clung Gpuelg-1e her form. ‘ ve shell I rs! ering Ses cone ere was & hopeless: her voice. s “ Dont yeu be ateard,” answered Phil, encourage ingly. ‘I’m goin’ to take you home, and guy 0 to my old granny to take keer of. And if she aint a pageer with you as if you was a baby, I'll eat my at.” wu) She looked for a moment into the earnest face of the boy; then placed ber hand ¢onfidingly in his. “Tt Tcan walk,” she said. “‘ You dont know how fk) have obliged me.” ’ “ Yes, Ido,” replied Phil, bluntly. “I know if we hadn't been a Pi6 too high fur the mate of the Strongbow you'd been food for fishes now." “The Strongbow!” she repeated, with a quick shudder, and a startled look around. LS A sm ag ee a se ry torge ~ geste ick, soothingly. ‘Best git home, and a sleep. “Phen it'll be time Sheligh to go fur fie Strongbow.” She yielded to them without a word more, both boys assisting her as she walked feebly onward. She gained some strergth, however, as they pre ceeded, and moved with a firmer mee It was a considerable distance to Phil’s home, axté Pe were, some aed ao Brine 2 it. sasdnaie we % have to carry you, re Phil, after they had ascended the stairs, “We're willin’, Dick and me, but we're litdle fellere yit. Jist wait here a minit and I'll wake up pg In very litile more than a minute Phil had his. grandmother up, and had acquainted her with the main points of their adventure. ' “Deary me!” she cried, anxiously. “A lady saved from drowning? And my Phil has brough« her here? Why, to be sure I will do,all I can for her; and glad to do it too.” Mrs. Hardy came out, er in hand, and gazed, with deep interest into the beautiful, pale face of the ney. The latter had heard her kindly tone and looked up trustingly into her tender old face. “Tam wet,’ she said, simply. ‘I owe everythin to Bb boys here. I shall be so thankful to you fur @ shelter.’ “ Why, certainly, and the best I can give you too,” replied Mrs.. Hardy, earnestly. ‘Come into my room, ma’am, ‘You must get these wet things off at once.—Just to think of the horrible 8 whe tried to drown Po !—Come with me, ma’am, I de Laps you wont take your death of cold’ from thi» wotting, It's dreadful trying to the constitution.” F babe a viet smile the lady yielded to her impor- unity, sa : “Thope nc. I do not take cold easily.” She gave her hand to the old lady, who was ner- vonely fluttering about her, but lo back at the joys. ‘ Us) WEE Cett gales os Never mind them,” said Mrev ray “They will get along. They are fond boys both of them, This room, ma'am,” and she led her charge quickly into her own room, “ Kin we take care of ourselves, Dick?” inquired Phil, with an odd grimace. “T rayther guess We could sleep on a clothes-line, if there w nothin’ else be eae, are you goin’?” -plie : “What! at this time of night? To git the edge af nt think - a broomhandle fur your breakfast?’ I 50. I’ve got room enough fur you to out, Y Gramipw hana Bet our lady’s all right now, in Come with me.” Dick gracefully yielded to the importtinities of his frietid, and the two boys man: “to fidgs the re- mainder of the night in oblivion tore ead gr Their recovered waif, too, slept well under Grand- mother Hardy’s fos i gWors-4 the’ kind ‘old lady watching her as if she had been a slu in- fant. ER IX. 2 dn borhan RECEPTION, / Morninc. dawned as brightly over the humble dwellers in the tenement-house as over the prond, ‘residents of the up-town avenues, And sleep’ chung to ba eyeli until pearty ‘late an nour an thy morning. ‘For the had eh zat exhale atid the eu wag hich when n open ’ 6 Ko) and discorito 4 of the waki shen) ’ “Come, Dick,” shouted Phil, sha his bed-fe}- 9, ae > "7 ste low roughily. ‘Goin’ to sleep till dinner-time, hey ”” oN Dunner eaten Dick, rubbing his’ y “ Long as a’ oe to as happy asl what’s the odds? 1 was havin’ the beautifulle dream, and 1 wish you'd let me alone.” ‘““What was it?” asked Phil, indifferently: — “Td t that I'd been found y at the Tombs. Dunno what for. But I'd been sentenced to be locked "p in a mountain of ice-cream, nov to git out til ld eat my way out. ot Tied Phil, it was just luscious! ¥ had eat about a foo deep into the wall, and was goin’ in headforemost like a ground mole, when you to come and stir me up.” **T dont blieve in fellers that has such ridicklus dreams,” responded Phil, with a sniff of contempt. “Yuu 've as bad as Joe Dot with his jiants, fly exercise of our friends ~ Jest whee
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2 Sn SS Se tS es a ee — « 2S. ee ee ee ee Sas SS Se —— a See as T= A SS eS Es — 2s SS Se ae SSS | ee ee ‘ x “) somewhat you? for, you 7 YOU see, 8 —— p and wash your face, Reckon it'll be odder than joo-ceaben to you.” “ You’ Talis sauine = Dien Where von bE ed Dick, leatly yawns . “Dont b’lieve you’ allow a stone was & me *cept it hit you on the top-knot. Well, I might as vai git up “Sod here’s a basin of Seater. Mind you wash your face.” a5 fr willonly ‘ What’s the odds?” returned Dick, ae ae Fg with wonderful pote be @ * Anyhow, a hay es an hour you wont be me now, you cant on owl- Dick, and d that'll be somethin’. be drownded in a basin of water.” ‘ And he led the reluctant Dick to the basin, and forced him to p plunge his face into the clear liquid. Phil took the vole of washerman, and scrubbed ener- got ically at his uneasy friend. But the dirt was too og deposited and too well rubbed in to be taken off at one washing. “is face was still grimy when Phil let him go, say- ann, aR a disappointed tone: d like to take a look at your face, and see chat d of a lookin’ chap you was. But it’s no eo. If Vd had some sandpaper now I mought have icuched bottom. But soap and water's jist wasted on your countenance.” ‘:: a few minutes more the boys emerged into the hall adjoining their apartment. Here they found By. Hardy awaiting them. Hows the lady this morning?’’ was Phil's first question, “ Still glee ,” replied the old woman, “I wouldn't waken her for anything. She is a perfect i uuity, eg and she looks so sweet and innocent ilo she is sleeping that I am quite in love with That’s the kind we fur, granny. We dont able ourselves fishin’ = your common, everyday ‘ ‘yO 0. ** There’s been some terrible bad business,” con- \ved Mrs. Hardy. “It made my heart ache to ’ -ue the poor creature moan in her sleep. But dont you boys want some breakfast?’ Well, I I guess a little wouldn’t hurt our constitu- Rin 2 ‘Geckos mayhe I best be goin’ home fur mine,” suzested Dick. “No, indeed! Do you suppose [ shall ever miss whit @ little fellow like you can eat?” cried Mrs. dy Rat "betors Dicks got through his breakfast she be- f \ to fear that you'll be keerful and keep out of sera rapes, thoug The morning was well advanced oon the two young explorers reached the wharf at which was moored the Strongbow. She lay higher out of the water, her cargo having been nearly all discharg The wharf beside her was still pestes with goods, Loo busy draymen were rapidly diminishing the - matt looked warily round for his foe, the mate, but he was not to be seen. A few sailors were lounging about the deck, and some stevedores were getting out the last remnants of the cargo. As the boys stood looking idly on, the cabin door opened, and Cr Monroe appeared, accompanied e captain’s small, nervous figure, with his weather-beaten face, and rolling dubious eyes, was in strong contrast to the tall, well- -propor- tioned, and handsomely dressed person beside him. The features of the latier were regular, his complex- ion a pure white, while a heavy se mustache, well waxed at the ends, graced his u = The gentleman stood switching his 4" with his flexible cane as he listened qarleeny to the earnest words of the captain. The latter was speaking ra pag and in low tones, his eyes fixed warily on the “ Mought be somethin’ worth hearin’,” said Phil. “You stay here, and I'll sneak a bit. I’ve got ears as sharp as gimblets, you know! I kin preity near hear the grass growin’. “Oh nonsense! That's a gentleman. That’s not the kind our game is,’’ protested Dick. “Fine feathers make fine birds, go old granny says,’ returned Phil. ‘‘The chap’s got to-have money to sport all that s “La and maybe he’s bp to rob our gal of hern. You stay here and sign to me where to go.” In a minute more Phil had sneaked against the nigh: § the vessel, which now stood high above the whartf-logs. by a stranger. The Captain’ 8 friend had moved impatiently toward the bulwarks as if anxious to sects rom voluble companion. Guided by Dick’s the young sp brought himself directly beneath them, thoug quite hidden from sight of any one on deck. Phil had not boasted without reason of his sharp- ness of hearing, and his keen ears caught the low tones of the captain’s voice, as he crouched low beneath the two occupants of the deck. “That is all very well,” the gentleman said, with some show of displeasure. “T think that he risked too much. But as long as it turned out right we will let that pass. I must be goin ng 3 now.” “I will see you soon, and report if anything turns “Tf what we fear turns up there will be enou to report it,” replied the captain’ § visitor. “We will have it served, well spiced, in our morning pa yer; and dished _up cold in the afternoon editions. ;00d- day, captain, “One moment, Mr. Cunningham,” remarked the captain. “tr forgot to ask you where this bank was.” As he spoke he unfolded a bank-check which ay ee ee “On Broadway, site the y replied Mr. Cunningham, wit a bbs foot on the bulwarks, ready to spring to the wharf. BB eaptain did not fenediotely aera He rusing the opened check with dilated. ey ks ut you have awe a big blunder hese? he open ah ese is caution for the moment.) here, sir viata does this mean?” \ The captain’ s face was flushed with excitement as he ointed to the check, ell?” asked Mr, Cunningham, with cool self- possession. “Can you not see, sir? Two Hundred.—What does that mean?” “Tt means that the check will be good for that amount of cash at ne bank counter.” * Hell’s fire, sir! Are you an idiot, or do you take me for one? ‘Is this a trick you are trying to play on me? “T think not,” was the calm Dy A to the excited utterance of the captain. _‘‘ And it might be just as | well for you to lower your tone a little. I do not fe
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— know | that I am indebted to you in any specified sum. “You will find that you are not playing with a baby before you are done with me,’’ exclaimed the angry captain. ‘‘ You can take this bit of paper, and make the figures a more reasonable amount, or I —_— make New York the hottest place you ever set ‘oot in.’ “Bah!” said Mr. Cunningham, contemptuously. “You can do just what you think fit. I consider that you are well paid, and I do not care a fig for your threats.—One might think this was the first check you have had from me.” “T bet a sea-horse it will not be the last,’ retorted Captain Monroe, in a lower tone than he had been using. ‘*I suppose you think our hands will be tied, that we will be afraid to move,—Why, blast it, sir, before I would be swindled by any red-mustached land-lubber, I’d tie the hangman’s knot around my own neck, Try this trick on, and you will find that I mean every word of it.” “T can’t say that I have any objections, if you are anxious that way,” said Mr. Cunningham, with ag- gravating indifference. “TI hope, though, you won't make such a sensation. I dont enjoy sensations.” As he spoke he sprung lightly from the deck to the wharf, a distance of four or five feet. “Dont forget, Cap,” he cried out, as he walked rapidly away. “‘And see that the Gustom House entries are properly attended to.”’ Yes, you’re rascally sly,’’ muttered the captain savagely. ‘* Want to put the sailors off the track. i calculate you wont put me off the track so easy.” Neither of them had noticed the diminutive form of Phil Hardy, who had slipped hastily away from his position at Mr. Cunningham’s first movement, and was now gliding toward Dick from the end of the wharf. “Voller me. And look as if you didn’t ra f “ e beans,”’ he whispered in his comrade’s ear. game’s gittin’ ripe.” Dick was quick-witted enough to take the hint, and slouched along behind Phil, as if he had not a care in the world beyond lounging in the sunshine. Nobody paid the slightest heed to the two boys, as they left the wharf, some distance in the wake of Mr. Cunningham. The latter had entered a street leading up into the city, and was walking briskly along. “There’s fun up, Dick,” explained Phil, as they followed the gentleman. “My first game’s to strike where he lives, If he fights shy, then I want you to foller him like a sand-bur follers a cow’s tail, and dont let up till you hole him. Spose he’s a Fifth Avenuder. Mought think he owned New York from the Battery up, to look at him.” “Did you hit any game, Phil?”’ “Dunno. There’s money passed hands, and that’s always duberous. Got to investergate this chap, that’s all.” When the mn! may of their pursuit had reached about two blocks from the wharf Phil hastened his steps, signing to Dick to lurk behind. The boy came briskly up to the unconscious gen- tleman, crying in a breathless tone: “Mr. Cunningham!” “Well? What do you want?’ asked the gentle- man, aes as he noticed the figure of the boy who had called him, “T thought you was the one, but wasn’t quite sure,” replied Phil innocently. ‘Captain Monroe, of the Strongbow, told me torun after you.” “Monroe!” was the impatient answer. ‘He does not want me back?” ‘* He didn’t say so,” responded Phil. “ What did he say then?” “Only that he’d forgot your directions. That’s vo jhe told me to tell you, and to ask where you ved, “He must have a devilish short memory,” ex- claimed Mr, Cunningham, angrily. ‘I toldit to him not an hourago, And he might have asked Hend- ricks, who knows it well enough.” “Tl tell him that then?” asked Phil, making as if about to return. “Yes.—But no; give him this. Tell him to nail it in his mind, and then throw it to the fishes. ’ He gave Phila card from his case, saying, as he looked at the boy: ““Do you belong to the Strongbow?” “T lend a hand about her,” Phil answered, turning on his heel. He was not six steps from Mr. Cunningham before he had nailed the directions on the card in his mem- ory. Y you're off duty, Dick,” he said to that young gentleman, as he rejoined him. “The b flew — into my net. Got all I wanted out of m “Where now?” asked Dick, trotting along to keep pace with Phil’s rapid walk. “Back to the Strongbow, quick as lightnin’,’’ Phil replied.“ Got to have a little chat with Cap Monroe, afore some things git cold in his mind,”’. ** What’s up?” queried Dick. Phil answered by giving his comrade a brief out- line of what he had learned, and of his present in- tentions, suppressing such part as he did not care to e. “Hang fire now,” he said, as they reached the wharf. “‘ You know the game if I’m nabbed.” With the bold movement of one who has import- ant business on hand our young friend mounted the side of the Strongbow, and approached the captain, who was standing aft, looking moodily at the move- ments of the stevedores, **Captain Monroe, I spose?” was Phil’s question- ing address. ; : ‘What do you want with me?” demanded the cap- tain, surlily. Phil Hardy, the Boss Boy. “Want to know if you’re Cap Monroe,” Phil sturdily repeated. ‘Yes. And what then?” “Twas told to step on board and see you on im- ortant bizness. 'Them’s the words he said,” replied hil, in a dignified tone, “Who said?” “That's his card. He said as you'd reckernise it.” **Ha!” cried Captain Monroe, his eyes falling on the perfumed slip which Phil had handed him. “ Did he send you?” “The man who guv me that card? Oh, yes, It was him.” Phil’s tone was undiluted innocence. “Come into the cabin,”’ ordered the captain, with a cautious look around him. Dick, from his station on the wharf, saw with some alarm this disappearance of his comrade down the companionway of the Strongbow, into those mys- terious and doubtful regions below her decks. Phil, however, advanced without a sign of fear or nesWell boy,” said th tain, turning on h “Well, boy,” sai e captain, on him. “What did he send you for? “He told me I was to bring the paper he guv you. Them’s the words he said. The paper you and him had just been talkin’ about.” “Did he say what the paper was?” asked the cap- tain with inward satisfaction at this symptom of fear on Cunningham’s part. j ian the paper. That was all,’’ Phil innocent- ly re , ““But who are you? And what warrant have I in handing over to you an important paper?” “T dunno as it makes much difference to me,” re- torted Phil, carelessly, seating himself beside a cabin-window of the Strongbow, which was open to let in the air. “Did he give you no token except this card?” asked Captain Monroe, suspiciously. “Yes,” said Phil, in the most matter-of-fact tone. “He said if you didn’t believe me, I was to guv you this fur a password, ‘ The Alice Homer has gone to the bottom.’—Or some sich words.”’ Captain Monroe sprung to his feet as if he had been bitten by a scorpion. A hearty curse broke from his lips, as he hurriedly paced across the cabin. “He spoke about idiots awhile ago,”’ muttered the excited officer. “I'll be shotif he ought not to be locked up in a maniac’s ward.” ““Who?” asked Phil, opening his eyes widely. “No matter.—I guess you are allright. iiake is the on a “He is going to act wisely and add to the amount of th check,” thought the captain, as he turned to get it. As he did so, Phil felt himself touched from be- hind, at the cabin-window, and a voice in his ear: 4 —_ black-muzzled mate! Look out! It’s gitting squally.” “ Hero it is,” said Captain Monroe, turning quick- yy. “ Hurry back to Mr. Cunningham, and tell him said this, ‘Captain Monroe's time js limited. If one man wont buy he knows another who will.’— You wont forget?” ““No,” said Phil, putting his hand on the window, as if to assist him in rising. As he did so the check disappeared from his hand into certain groping fingers outside. Phil hastened toward the cabin door, as if thinking that his mission there was ended, and the sooner he got out of that locality the better for his health. But he was not destined to get off so easily. Be- fore he could reach the door of the cabin it was opened, and the black-bearded mate appeared. “Hallo! Who have we here?” he cried, as his eyes fell on Phil. “A messenger from Mr. Cunningham,” replied Captain Monroe. A messenger from the devil!” exclaimed the mate. ‘“*Hold back, youngster,” he cried, seizing Phil fiercely by the shoulder, as the latter was push- ing past him. “How do you know he is from Cun- ningham?” “He brought this password: ‘The Alice Homer has gone to the bottom.’” The mate turned blue as he heard these words. He hustled Phil rapidly across the cabin to a door opening inward, “We are sold!” he ejaculated. “ Thisis one of the chaps that followed us last night. I bet high he follows to the bottom.” Dirty Dick hastily dropped out of sight, as he caught a glimpse of Phil pushed through a low door into a dungeon-like darkness beyond. CHAPTER XI. AT CENTRAL PARK. Wer must leave the boys awhile and return to our lady friends. Mrs. eh # has been busy all morn- ing in drying and smoothing the clothes of her guest. She has n quite successful in her efforts, and Miss Homer has wi ly doffed the old lady’s volumin- ous gown, and is dressed somewhat more becoming- ly in her own attire. . ‘Her dress is of a light summer silk, which shows scarcely a sign of its immersion in the water, and which elegantly fits her slender, supple form, Above it her pale, gentle, clear-cut face blooms like a white lilly, crowned above by a waving wealth of brown hair, and lit by the softest of eyes. Little Susy ‘Lane is at her feet, looking up at her with un uised admiration in her large orbs. : “Do RSA ow, Miss Alice,” she says, confidingly. ‘that Phil is just the best boy out? you knew all the good things and the smart things he has done.” “T can well believe him a marvel of intelligence,” Homer replied. ‘And I think es my young friend very much.” “Me!” cried S opening her eyes very wide. “Likes me! Why, ke Phil too. Phil's my sweet- heart, you know. AndTI am his. And we just love one another.” “Oh! It has gone so far as that, then?’ said Miss Homer, smiling. ‘‘And I suppose you are going to be married very soon.” “Get married?” repeated Susy, in a tone of alarm. “Why, I never thought of that. Aint we too young to get married ?”’ “Well, rather,” was the dry answer. “The idea of anything so ridiculous!” And Susy burst into a merry laugh. “I do believe you are just making fun of me. I know it is only great, grown folks, like you, that get married.” A slight blush came on Miss Homer's face as she answered: “You and Phil will be great grown folks some day. Then Isuppose, you will be marrying.”’ “I dont know,” said Susy, coquettishly. ‘I might fall out with Phil. Or I might see somebody i Ekad better. Why dont you get married, Miss ice?” “Perhaps it is because I cannot get any one to have me,” she replied, with a slight constraint in her laugh. “Idont see that you can do better than wait for Phil—I wish he would come back with the answer to my letter,” “Did you tell him it was in a hurry?” “T did not,”’ “Then you wont see him before night. Phil is never in a hurry.” “Ts that the case, Mrs. Hardy?” “Yes,’’ replied the old at from the corner in which she was bustling. “ Phil does try me dreadful sometimes, for if he dont take a notion to go fast a steam-engine wouldn’t la Map Why dont you gO an and take a walk, Miss Homer, and rest your- self?’ “T would not know where to go. Iam an entire stranger in New York. I should be lost in ten steps. XC Oh! I will go with you and show you!” cried Susy, enthusiastically. ‘I will take you a long walk— a, a Or we will take the cars and go to the ar teh “Wherever you will, Iam in your hands,” replied their guest, courteously. “T think you will like the Park,” said Mrs. Hardy. enthusiastically. “It is ever so pretty a place. And then it’s got marble statues, and fountains, and the sweetest lake, and geese swimming in it.” “Swans,” corrected Susy. “The idea of calling them geese! Those beautiful white swans! You should only see them swim, Miss Alice. So stately and graceful. But may be you have seen swans.” “Yes, and geese, too,” their guest smilingly replied, “We will go to the Park at any rate. Iam not yet tired of seeing beautiful things. But Lam half-afraid, Mrs. Hardy. My enemies—’ , Phy Fy have not so many of them?” asked Mrs. ardy. ¥ Two or three, only.” “Two or three in a million!” and Mrs, Hardy laughed at the idea, “ Why it would be like hunting the needle in the haystack. You dont know whata monstrous place New York is. And I suppose your foes have no time to spare from their rogueries for strolling in the Park.” “That may be so,” admitted their guest, musing- ly. “Oh, come!” cried Susy, d at her hand, “7 will take the best of care bre aan if anybody says on to you he had better look out for him- self.” And Susy was comically savage in her man- ner, “Very well, then, if I am to have such a dough, champion,” asserted Miss Homer, leughing, a ou wear such a look as that you certainly righten the men into good behavior.” “You dont know how fierce I can be,” exclaimed Susy. ‘Come on. I just hope somebody will speak to us, so that I can show you.” The two new friends were very m as they rode together to the Park. Susy seemed to feel it a part, of her duty to be as lively as possible to cheer up the unfortunate lady, and the latter forced her- self to respond to the child’s efforts. It was a pleasant afternoon, and the Parkin the acme of its Junetide beauty. Streams of showy carriages filled all the drives; and throngs of marly: dressed people lent a charm to the walks. Children rollicked and laughed. Susy telt like it, but im- agined that her position called for a certain measure of demureness. So she walked es soberly as she could beside her older friend, only breaking out every Es minutes or so ina gush of merriment, or an incipient romp. She a thoroughly @ ted with the lions of the Park, and showed them off with youthful en- eee statutes, fountains, lake, swans and ‘And Miss Homer was thoroughly appreciative of the beauties of this charming pleasure-ground of the people, and was little less enthusiastic than her Chand bow aon 4 eee at length h “we have earned the right to'be tired. Let us sit awhile beside the Mall.—Did you not say this was the “Yes,” ~ “And that is over thera must have very good-l : wear such an od dress.—-Who was P Miss Alice? Some t ner “A great poet, ty that cep eay be- ing a great general. You may see by his face that he is a thinker, and not a fighter.” ““T thought that,” re the “It isso full of thought. What did he write?” “Plays, my dear. The most plays.
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10 He lived several hnudred years ago in England— Ohr ; It was a faint exclamation that escaped her lips, barely audible to her companion, But the latter tunned to find her very pale, and in the act of draw- ing her vail down over her face. “Why, Miss Alice,” said Susy, anxiously, “what Le happened? Are you sick? You look so very pale,” sl scoaseery know, child. A sudden attack, Let us be going home.’’ She essayed to rise, but hastily reseated herself. Her eyes had been turned to the opposite side of the Mall. Susy quickly looked over in that direc- tion, and saw a gentleman who had turned and was walking across toward them. He was a tall, well-built man, elegantly attired, with a face which many would have ed hand- some, his eyes keen and cold. “You will not object to my taking this seat, miss?” he asked, addressing Susy. . “I am rather tired.” “Why certainly not,” replied Susy, moving so that he might have the end of the bench they occupied. “Do not let me disturb you.” “You do not disturb me at all,” she rejoined, look- ing at him with her clear, open eyes. ‘Do you live in New York?” he asked, addressin the child, but fixing his keen glance on the vail face beyond her. ox Why of course, I haye always lived in New ork.’ “Tndeed. I thought your fresh face spoke of the country,” he smilingly replied. ‘* And in what part of New York has my young friend always lived?” Susy was on the point of, innocently naming the directions of her residence, when she felt the hand that lay by her side clutched in a convulsive clasp. She was quick-witted enough to take it as a warn- ing, and equally quick enough to feel that it was not advisable to show distrust of her questioner. “T have not always lived in the same place,” she replied. ‘“‘ We have moved about a great deal.’’ ‘Oh!” he said, with a look of amusement. “‘ Then your presentresidence— But I forgot, you have not said where it is.” : “And I do not intend to,” replied Susy, with im- mense dignity of manner. “Ido not see why a fine entleman like you wants to know wherea poor lit- tle thing like me lives.” Her questioner laughed loudly, and yet it struck the observant child that there was not much merri- ment inthe laugh. He rose and looked down upon her with a comical expression, his sharp eyes glanc- ing at the thinly vailed face that was turned away from him. Susy felt a strong tremor in the hand that still held hers. “T suppose it is an idle man’s curiosity, which is often as bad asa woman’s curiosity, my child,” he recep A remarked. ‘* And as for your being a poor little. thing, you do not seem to know your wealth.” “My wealth!” cried Susy, opening her eyes very wide indeed. “Yes, wealth in good looks, and innocence, and charmingness. For you are a charming little gin. Good-day, my dear,” and he walked away with a smile on his face, ** And you are a disagreeable big man,”’ said Susy under her breath. ‘I dont like to be talked to that way. And I dont like you, at all.” There was great vigor in the way in which the child brought this out. “Ts he gone, Susy?” spoke a whispering voice beside her—a voice that shook with emotion. “ Yes,’ said Susy, after a pause, ‘‘He is some distance off.—Now he is going down the steps to the fountain—to the lake, I mean.”’ “Then we must gol Instantly! He must not see my face for the world!” ere was intense eagerness and anxiety in her tone. She seized Susy’s hand, and drew the child rapidly down the walk, stepping with a hasty, nerv- ous tread. “He looked close at me. Do you think he could have seen my face through the vail?” she asked, throwing it back to get a breath in her excited walk. “YT dont think he could,” said Susy, “Is he one ot the men you fear?” ‘ Yes! yes! i have not seen him ror years, Yet a knew him at a glance. Look back, child. See if he is following us.” f Susy took a long look behind, but failed to catch any sign of the person in question, “T hope you are mistaken,’ she replied. “He is not following us.” “T am never mistaken in a face,’ was the excited rejoinder. “‘He will follow! He will not let me escape! Let us hasten, child!’ People turned to look with surprise at the pale face and rapid movements of the woman, who almost dragged her young companion. She was a swift walker, and it taxed Susy to keep pace with her. Leaving the Park, they took a car for the city, and then first drew _a free breath. **Tam sure 1 have eseaped him now,” she said, with a strong, nervous trembling. ‘I cannot see him.—Oh! how I fear that dastardly face!’ She became silent, falling into a moodiness of manner which the child did not venture to break, though her eyes were fixed with questioning pity on the still, pale face of the frightened woman. They left the car at the City Hall, and hastened forward on foot, They did not observe a carriage which slackened its speed and moved slowly behind them. As they turned into aless frequented street the carriage stopped and a gentleman alighted. He moved cautiously on behind them. They were approaching pat! a glance she recognized her. questioner of the ark their home when Susy, . with a sudden impulse, looked backward Phil Hardy, the Boss Boy. Miss Homer felt the quick movement of her hand, and looked inquiringly down. “T wanted youto come in here with me,” said Susy, prudently, drawing her into a small grocer’s which they were just opposite. The child led her friend hastily to the rear end of the store. “Tf any one asks if you know us, Mrs. Jones, she said to a ‘one woman standing there, ‘* dont let on. There’s a villain following us.’ “Come out this way,” cried Mrs. Jon pushing them through a rear door into an alley that led to another street. ‘I will give the gentleman who - following you my opinion. You can depend on at. And the good-natured fat lady looked as fierce as her kindly face would permit of. “Did you see him?’ asked Miss Homer, excitedly. $ “Yes. But do not fear. He will never pass Mrs. ones. They reached home quite overcome with the ner- vous excitement of their flight. CHAPTER XI. A TRUSSED RAT. In the cabin of the Strongbow her two chief officers satin earnest consultation. There was no sign of Phil geen G They had put him somewhere out of sight and hearing, and had been considering, with much dread, the possible exposure of their schemes in case the boy should escape them. There seemed to them but one safe course to take. They had al- ready tried it with the woman. To their hardened natures it was a small matter to dispose of this wharf rat of a boy, when their own safety depended upon it. Several hours had now passed since the capture of the venturesome boy. His companion, Dirty Dick, was nowhere to be seen. To appearance he had deserted him. The deliberations of the captain and the mate were interrupted by the peers! opening of the cabin door, and the sound of a quick step on the floor. They looked hastily around, to see their confeder- ate . Cunningham. His face was flushed and angry. He gras his cane with a fierce clutch, and seated himself vigor- - beside the table, looking them both sternly in e face. “So; you have cooked a pretty kettle of fish,” he said, with stinging sarcasm. ‘“‘I thought if there was me ring Icould trust it was the captain and mate of the Strongbow. But Ill be hanged if you haven’t muddled matters worse than a couple of apprentices.” he two men looked sheepishly at each other. “But blast it!’ cried the captain. ‘‘ You sent the boy back for the check; so he must have shut your eyes up too.” “* And I'll swear if I know how he got on our track and followed us in the boat!’ exclaimed the mate. Mr. Cunningham looked from one to the other in bs, hone astonishment, “What under the sun are you talking about?’’ he ejaculated. ‘I sent a boy back for the check?” “Yes. There is the card you gaye him,” and the captain pointed to the finely-written card which lay on the table between them. “Why, you idiot!’ cried the enraged visitor, “‘ the little rascal said you had forgotten my directions, and had sent him after me to get them.’ “Then I think you were the idiot,’ replied the choleric captain. “I know it wasn’t I that gave him that piece of pasteboard.” “And did you deliver him the check on such a cock-and-bull story?” j Tiles He brought a signal which I couldn’t oubt.’ ; ‘Not from me, I'll swear. What was it?” “Tt was this, which he said you had given him for ° ass-word: ‘The Alice Homer has gone to the ottom,’ ” Cunningham sprung to his feet with a face inflamed with rage and alarm, “Good heavens!’’ he exclaimed. ‘‘Where did he learn that name? You have bungled this business sweetly.” There was a dark scowl on his face as he looked at them. ‘And the boy followed you!’ he eried suddenly to the mate. ‘That is another bit of revelation. you let yourself be tracked, eh? And were followed by this sharp young hound ina t?? “Tt “iy devilishly like it,” Mr. Hendricks surlily ‘“* And if you two men are not lucky you will get , necks in the hangman’s noose yet by your stupid lundering. Two old pirates like you, who think no more of a man’s life than a cat’s,and yet could not make way with a trussed-up and insensible wo- an, “The blazes we couldn’t!’’ cried the mate. “No. The woman escaped your bungling hands, She is alive and well this minute. And if she dont make New York a hot place for all of us soonit wont be your fault.” “She could not escape!’ exclaimed Mr. Hendricks; “T saw her sink like a stone.” “And did not wait to see her rise again like a feather. I tell you this: Isaw Alice Homer, or her ghost, maybe, not an hour ago in the Park.” “Tt cant be so! You aré mistaken!” : “There is no such good luck as that,” replied Mr, Cunningham. ‘“ Why, she knew me as ckly as TI knew her. She tried to a me. I pursued her through three or four m of the streets, and then was thrown off the track by the stupidity, or the smartness, I dont know which, of a fat old grocer woman. The three men looked at each other for several minutes without a word. “She must be nabbed again,” said Mr. Hendricks, at length in a tone of desperation. ‘I will not fail a second time.” “What good will it do to put her out of the way while that boy is at liberty?’ asked Mr. Cunning- ham. ‘She istoo timid a creature to act with any ics But I fear that sharp young rascal.” “You needn’t then,”’ explained Captain Monroe. “He is under our thumbs at this minute. If he saves himself he will have more reason to boast than he had in saving the woman.” “Under your thumbs?” repeated the visitor, in- quiringly. “Yes. Mr, Hendricks happened to come in and knew him. We nabbed him before he could get <—_ with pehyas He has She ploseuxe of occu- py. very safe quarters,’’ and the speaker signed Mth his finger over his shoulder toward lon tect through which Phil had disappeared. *“You have him in there?” ‘Yes. And he wont gnaw himself out in a hurry. That is lucky. Ifthe boy escapes our plans are not worth pie-crust. A cold water bath for him ig our only safety.” And Mr. Cunningham’s hand- some face grew wicked as he spoke. ‘t Doyouthink he had any confederates?” “IT think not,” replied Mr. Hendricks. ‘All the indications I have seen point to a single person.” ‘“What were these indications?” In response the mate described the various cir- cumstances which he had noted implicating Phil in the rescue. “It is well if it all rests with him,” sai¢ Mr. Cun- ningham, ‘‘A midnight trip in the boat which I see floating behind your vessel. A fall overboard. A closing of the waves over a rat’s head. And a merry pull back. —That is the whole story.” He was as cool and quiet in his tone asif he had been giving orders for a dinner. ane captain and mate Jooked significantly at each other. ‘““And what reward are we to have for this new job?” the former asked. ‘‘ We will make our bar- gains in advance now.” ‘* Safety,” exclaimed Mr. one sternly. “That is reward — for you. The difference between a dungeon and the deck of the Strongbow. —But let me have the check. A few dollarsisa aes matter. I will change it to suit your ideas m,*? “We have not got it yet,” answered the captain, with a change of countenance, “Where is it?” “The boy has it.” “Then search him instantly. That is another piece of stupidity. Bring him out here. I want to see him.—Stop!” ‘* Well?” asked the mate, pausing. “Do you know that the door is unlocked, and the window is raised! Is this your idea of business?”’ With an an look Cunningham strode across to the cabin window, which he pulled sharply down, Had he been a little less excited and more cautious, he would have looked out of it first, and would have caught a glimpse of a frowzy head just disappearing below the sill. But the spy, whoever he was, es- ca) discovery. aptain Monroe locked the cabin door as the mate os oe 3 through the portal leading inward to the ship. e returned, after scarcely a minute’s absence, carrying the light form of Phil Hardy. For the young imp of the wharves was quite inca- pable of walking, moving, or speaking. His hands and feet were tied so as almost to stop the circula- tion, and a cloth bound tightly about his mouth effectually hindered speech. Only his eyes were active, and they were as bright and defiant as ever. The three conspirators looked at him with a curi- ous interest. They seemed to question the possi- bility that this boy could have outwitted them all. He looked so small and insignificant, and they so large and full of possibilities. Despite Phil’s disbe- lief in the story of the dwarf and the giants he seem- ed ete ey — lified it in his = Trson, ingham’s keen eyes wandered over every de- tail of the boy’s person. Phil’s glance caught his and held it fora moment, enchained. The astute —— recognized a dangerous foe in the helpless ‘“* Search him,” he said, briefly. This ‘was done, quickly and thoroughly. But, as the reader is aware, there was no trace of. the check to be found on his person. The only thing found, separate from the usual cosmopolitan contents of a Sed pockets, was a letter, inclosed in a plain en- velope, and directed in a small, elegant handwriting. “Let me gee it,” said Cunningham. “This is lucky,” he exclaimed, after a quick look at the envelope. It was directed to ‘‘ Mr. Harvey Russell, 879 Madi- son avenue,” Without a moment’s hesitation he tore it open, and perused its contents. “Tam mueh obliged to our young postman for bringing the letter here, instead of taking it to its destination,’ he moc ly remarked, ‘I know where our lady is now, and I think she has sold her- self into my hands. it is the old story of the fox and the goose over again.—Try the boy again. He must have the check. Cunningham perplexedly, while Phil’s eyes burned with Sy “ ang 4 his mouth,” he myry continued. ‘“ He shall tell us: if it is, or it pe wrouse for him,” 4 : e enveloping c was removed, an 8 speeeh returned to te = him, Now, sirrah,” said Mr. Cunningham, severely,
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‘You must know that you are in our power, and that I would think no more of putting an end to you than I would of treading on a worm.—Where is that check?’ “It’s where it will make you wink cross-eyed if you try any of your games on me,” said Phil, boldly. ‘It’s in the hands of a friend of mine, and he’s bound to bring the perlice on this here ship if I dont turn up afore ten this blessed night.” “That's a lie, boy,’ exclaimed the captain. “Allright, You jist buy it fur a. lie, if you’re in the market. There’il be more truth then in your pocket than there often is on your tongue.” Mr. Cunningham looked keenly around. “Where was the boy when you gave him this checlk?’’ he asked. “Sitting here. By the window.” ** And the window open?” “ Yes,” *T thought so. “He put his hand on the s explained the captain, : “That is all right. It will be out at sea before night, instead of in the hands of the police.—Gag him again.”’ But Phil was not disposed to let this freedom of his tongue pass quite unimproved. He gave vent to one shrill yell for ‘“‘ Help!” that might have been heard the length of the deck, before the bandage could be replaced. ‘Lucky that door was closed,” said Cunningham, anxiously. “Back with bim again. That is your last ery, my boy, At midnight to-night—” “You will follow the Alice Homer to the bottom,” said Hendricks, interrupting. Phil looked defiance still, though quite unable to speak or move. These unscrupulous men meant all they said. They eared no more for the life of a street vagabond than they would have valued that of a vagrant dog. Just at twelve that night, and in a thick dark- ness, the long, slender boat that rocked at the Strongbow’s stern moved stealthily out into the stream, under the silent impulse of two rowers, and bebe a bound and speechless freight laid near the OW. They headed straight outward into the swift-flow- ing current. It was deserted. Not a trace of life “could be seen. Not a sound broke the deathly silence. , “This will do,” spoke a low voice after ten min- utes’ rowing. ‘‘It is as good as five miles out.” * All right,” answered the voice of Captain’ Mon- roe. “Take him by shoulders and heels then—and heave.”’ His words were accompanied by the action, There was a heavy splash,a commotion of the wa- ter—and silence. Their freight had disappeared. In an instant the boat had already drifted away from the dark spot where the helpless victim had sunk. One impulse from the oars and it was lost in the darkness. “Ashore! Quick as lightning!” spoke the cap- tain, in low, excited tones. : In fifteen minutes more they had regained the stern of their ship, and the mate had ascended her side, rope in hand. : “What is that?’ exclaimed the captain, with a scared utterance, as he slightly stumbled. “What?” quickly rejoined the mate. “T stepped on something soft.” “Oh! it’s a roll of oakum, that was flung into the boat this morning. Mount up here, quick! We must get to bed.”’ They did not hear a muttered sound, that came from the bow of the boat, and that seemed to form itself into these words: ‘Blame your awkward feet! Is them your sea-legs?”’ Phil Hardy, their dwarfish foe, had gone to the bottom of the East river, and all his secrets with him, This was all they could think of, and their ilty souls were full of superstitious fear as they astily retired to the cabin of the ship, not sure but that the spirit of the murdered boy might have pre- He has dropped it overboard.” when he got up,” , ceded them. CHAPTER XIII. TRAPPED. Tr letter of which Phil had proved such an inef- ficient postman, and which fallen into the wrong hands, ran as follows: **310 Grose Street, New Yor«. “Dear Harvey:—You will be surprised to learn that 1am in your city, now, instead of in my old home at Liverpool. How I came here is a long and not very agreeable tale, which I shall have to tell youin person. Ihave been through the most seri- ous perils, but am safe here now, in the home of some worthy people. “But I know they are too poor to be burdened with me, andI wish you to devise some means of taking me to my aunt’s. You know who I mean, Mrs. Hannah Corson. She lives somewhere above Harlem, I believe. " “Let me hear from you without delay, as lam a little fearful about staying in this part of New York. Please excuse the shortness of this note. It is only a business paper, you see, and my messen- ger is waiting anxiouely. for it. “Don't fail to answer at once, and don’t forget that I am still, your true AuiceE Homer. It may be seen that this letter gave Andrew Cun- ningham, into whose hands it had fallen, an op- portunity to prosecute his schemes which he was not slow to perceive. Alice had put a weapon, which might prove fatal to her, into the hands of her worstenemy, __ 4 ; But all unconscious of this she waited, on the af- ternoon of her return from the Park, somewhat im- patiently for an answer, Little dreamed od of them into what deadly perils Phil had fallen, and his grandmother was getting quite tried at his ridiculous delay. “Philis just at the age when boys get to be per- fect nuisances,’ she said, in a vexed tone. ‘ That’s just him. If I send him for a pound of sugar, half the time he will go to the West Indies for it. Or be long enough gone. I must really train that boy some.’ She was quite oblivious of the fact that she had nd , open been training him into these careless abits. “Oh! never mind, Mrs. Hardy,” protested Alice. “Tt is not really so particular.” “Tf you had only told him you were in haste,’’ con- tinued the old lady. “Tt does not matter at all. It is only the curiosity of an idle woman that ails me. If I do not get an answer until to-morrow it will not matter. wish you would only put me to work at something.” “T would like to give you something to bring back the color of those white cheeks,” said the compas- sionate oldlady. ‘‘Ido not like to see you looking “Dont mind that, Mrs. Hardy. That is only my fright at the Park. I do not intend to continue looking white. Do let me pare those potatoes for rou,”’ ; “What? With those delicate hands? No, indeed. You shall do nothing of the sort.” “You do not know what these delicate hands are capable of. I shall scrub off that table at any rate,” There ensued an amusing battle for the possession of the scrubbing-brush, which Alice had seized with a great show of vigor. The old lady conquered, and held it aloft in laughing triumph, I ed me letting you do any such thing,” she cried, “Then I only see one thing that remains to do,”’ replied Alice. ‘And what is that?” “For you to get a glass case, and seal me up in it and stand me in the corner for a parlor ornament.” And a beautiful ornament you would make, my sweet, pale child,” said Mrs. Hardy, fondly strok- ing the face of her guest. ‘‘ Why, you are as nervous e °? “Tam afraid I am rather frightened yet. Poor little Susy; she must have thought I was wild.—Now ou shall let me do something. That is the only way can cure my hands of this trembling.” They were interrupted by the appearance of a Fours man at the open door who inquired for Miss omer. “That is my name,” said Alice. “T was directed up here from below,” he replied. *T have a letter for you, miss,” “A letter for me!” she exclaimed, surprised, “Why, who— But Phil may have delivered mine,” she continued to Mrs. Bards. “He may not have waited for an answer.” She took the letter from the spruce-looking youth who held it, and glanced at the handwriting. “That will do, sir. Is there an answer?’ “*T think there is, miss,’’ he replied. * Please wait a minute, then, and I will see.” She opened the envelope, and quickly read the re her eyes lighting up with satisfaction as she sO Is it at hand?” she It is just round the corner in the “He speaks of a carriage. asked. “Yes, miss. next street. ‘Be kind enough to wait outside fora minute, I have something to 7 privately to this lady.” con- tinued Alice, gently closing the door. “T fear I must leave you, my kind-hearted friend,” she said. “Leave me!” faltered Mrs, Hardy. “Yes. It was necessary I should not intrude too long upon you. 1 wrote to a gentleman friend re- questing him te take me to the residence of an aunt of mine, whe lives just out of New York.” “You have an answer from him?” “No, Heisfrom home. This is from his sister. She seems to have felt it necessary to open the letter and has sent a carriage for me, * Are you sure it is from his sister?” “Oh, yes! There can be no doubt of that.” “Tt struck me it might be another trick of| your enemies,—But then, nobody would get the letter from Phil but the right person. Iknow that, Isup- pose it was because the gentleman was not at home that he did not bring the answer himself.—I do wish ou had not been so quick, Miss Homer. I do so te tolose you.” ! “You must not think that I will forget you,” re- lied Alice, gently. ‘‘You have been too kind for that, If I stay in New York you shall often see me.” “Why, you are not going?” cried Susy, breaking in upon them. A friend of mine has sent his “Yes, my dear. carriage for me.” ‘But Icant bear to have you g0,” exclaimed the child, bursting into tears. “Ilove you so,” “Love at first sight is not always durable,” replied Miss Homer, smilingly. “T dont care! shall never quit loving you!” cried the sobbing child. ‘“‘And I dont see why you cant stay.” “There are reasons, wy dear,” replied Ali taking the distressed child in her arms. ‘I canno stay to be a burden to Mrs, Hardy; for one thing.” “You are nota burden!” exclaimed Mrs. Hardy, energetically. “T must try not to become one. I shall never for- get my two dear friends. And I shall be sure to see ” Phil Hardy, the Boss Boy. ‘ 11 you often. But now I feel that it is necessary that I should 4 to my aunt’s,”” “Perhaps it is,” ronporvied Mrs. Hardy. ‘And et, somehow, I hate see you going.” And the dly old lady rubbed her eyes flercely, “And it may be one of your enemies, too,” de- clared Susy. ‘You were afraid of them, and you ht be going right into their hands.” "Somebody may have robbed Phil of the letter,” auggestos Mrs. Hardy. “Why, I thought you were so confident of him just now.” “But he is only a boy,”’ faltered the old lady. “Tam satisfied that he has done his errand pro- perly se replied Alice. ‘‘I have here a letter from . iss Russell, which I have no doubt was written by er, ** Let me look at it,”” plead Susy, The lady handed it with a smile to the inquisitive child, and turned to bid the old lady good-by. “Don’t forget me!” cried Susy, springing with a bound into her new friend’s arms, and warmly kiss- ing and fondling her. ‘And you must be sure to come and see us very soon,”’ “Certainly I will,” replied Alice, deeply affected by the child’s fondness for her. ‘‘ Meanwhile keep is to remember me.”’ She slipped a golden locket, with a curiously twisted 7A 4 round the child’s neck, and kissed her again as she set her down. : “ Now, good-by, dear friends,”’ said Alice, slipping quickly out of the door, as if fearing to be overcome by their evident emotion. The letter doy on the floor where Susy had thought- longiy let it fall. “T am ready now,” announced Alice briefly, to the youth who was impatiently waiting. ‘‘Is the carriage far?” “Just around the next corner, miss,” he replied, leading the way. Had she been able to see his face she would cer- tainly have detected something sinister in its expres- sion, innocent of guile as she was. There was a sneering grimace upon it which indi- cated a wicked satisfaction in his success. His hand was thrust deep into his pocket:as if grasping some substantial reward for his services, But all that was visible to her was the back of a closely-cropped head, surmounted by a cap set jauntily over on one ear. “This way, miss,’’ he explained, as they reached the foot of the stairs. “Your street here was a we yparrow, and the carriage stopped in the next urn, In a minute more they had reached the wider street in question. A stylish coach, drawn by two gray horses, stood waiting there, the driver upon the box. The latter person was not in livery, and was a roughly-dressed native of the Emerald Isle. He seemed weary of the delay, and called quickly io the o em to open the carriage door, and help the ad “Do you know the directions?” she asked him, somewhat timidly. “Sartainly, ma’am, It’s to Mrs. Corson’s that I was told to drive you. She lives out beyant Harlem. I know the place bravely.” “Very well,” she replied, reassured by his confi- dent tone. She stepped into the carriage, the door was closed, the youth mounted beside the driver, and in a min- ute more they were driving at a brisk pace out the a oe streets, at P 1! O palate ‘That's a gay equipage for a livery,” saida who had been looking on curiously. of “That's no livery,’ replied his companion, “Tt’s just that,” rejoined the first speaker. “I dont know the driver, but I bet I could hunt up that young chap aside of him,” “'Twigged him afore, hey, Joe Dot?” “Yes. And he aint none too good. Wonder where they’re drivin’ that pretty woman to,” “To the Park, like enough,” said the other, turning away. Meanwhile the carriage was moving rapidly out Broadway, and thence out Fifth avenue, along the eastern boundary of the Park, and into the more thinly-settled region beyond. The drive was a long one, and they seemed to have traveled miles beyond the upper extremity of the Park, when at length they drew up at the gate of a retentious mansion, that stood back from the thin- y built up road, surrounded by a dense clump of trees. The youth s rung to the ground and opened the gate, Sermittting e carriage to pass through. It rove slowly up a graveled carriage-way, which wound through thick evergreens, to the front of house, and drew up at the steps of a long por- tico, “Mrs. Corson is not_well, miss,” said the youth. a Spee a this way. You will find her in the parlor at the side. It was with the first feeling of misgiving which she had experienced during her ride that Alice followed the briskly-moving boy. He entered the hall, and threw open the door of a side parlor. She stepped in the portal was quickly closed behind her, Her eyes were litted, ex- pecting to see the waguely-remembered form of her aunt. Instead her shrinking gaze fell on the cruelly triumphant face of her mortal foe, Andrew Cunning- CHAPTER XIV. HOME AGAIN. Mrs. Harpy waited long that na, ‘or the re- turn of her precious grand hil came. son; but no She was not exactly alarmed. She had too much
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if | Phil Hardy, the Boss Boy. confidence in his smartness to deem it possible for any ove to get the best of him. And to stay out at et was no new feature of his vagrant life. ‘et for all this she felt uneasy. Some inkling of danger was in the air and affected her so that she could scarcely sleep. Her few short na were broken by unpleasant dreams, in which Phil got into all sorts of scrapes. He got out of them again, though, which was some mental refreshment to her. “*Here’s morning, but where's Phil?”’ she queried, discontentedly. ‘TI am desperate afraid there’s something wrong.— And that poor, dear Alice, too! Who knows but she may have been deceived?—I had no business to let her Pf it’s the wa with boys and girls. They know so overly mu more than their grandmothers.”’ She kept up this soliloquy as she moved with a heavy heart about her household affairs. “But how do I know?” she continued. ‘“ Phil might be in his bed. That’s one a about m boy. When he comes in at night he dont distur anybody. That’s some of my training.” nd with much self-satisfaction at this one good result of her training, she opened the door of 8 room and looked in She shut it again quickly, and with a silent laugh. ‘He has stolen a march on me,” she said, ‘‘ That’s his sweet young face on the pillow, sure enough. Well, well, I wont disturb him. The poor boy must want sleep. Though if he was only home at re- pei oes hours he could get his sleep at night. I shall have to stop that night-walking. And the old lady’s expression was very resolute. It was indeed Phil, who had escaped in some strange way from his imminent peril of the night before, and who made his debut to a late b ‘ast about nine o’clock. He was not vest satisfactory with his grand- mother as to what had detained him. ‘‘ Business,” was the scope of his revelations. He feared ie frighten her too seriously if he told her of is perils. With Susy he was far more communicative. He had the child’s hair almost on end, and her breath coming and going in gasps, as he told the story of his adventure, much as the reader already knows it. * Now that cant be, Phil,” she broke in. ‘For you to be flung overboard with your hands and feet tied, and left there——Why you would surely have drowned. Now, what is the use of telling me such stories?” “Te is true enough,” he oy Cept a little ot which I’ve left out, and which the capting didn’t ip 3 It was 7 Dick, and he acted he has got an inch of dirt on his face.” ‘* But you have not said Dirty Dick once yet.” “Cause I never jump Rite 7 a story. That’s why. If Dick hadn’t been thar I’d been among the canes now. I didn’t know afore that Dick was sich & hoss.”’ “To hear you talk,” said Susy, severely, “one might think you were horses and fishes, and pretty near a whole menagerie. Why dont you talk like respectable folks?”’ “Cause we're not respect’ble folks,”’ Phil sturdily je “And Dick is a hoss—a reg’lar two-forty animile.’’ ‘*t And how is he a hoss?”’ “Til jist tell you that. I was laying in that boat, as I told you, *‘specting every minute would be my next, with the tarnal capting and mate rowin’ behind me, and tied as tight as a trussed turkey, and jist on the pint of bein’ basted with cold water instead of gery That’s the identercal position I was in, and I tell you I was desp’rat blue, and I was wishin mighty hard that I was sitting on the top step ‘long- sid Oh, bush eried Susy, playfully tapping hi “Oh, hush!’’ ¢ usy, D ly tapping him on the cheek. ‘I don’t know when you will ever get done if ro go on at this rate.” ‘* Well, I was layin’ there, then, jist like a lump of indigo, when I felt pee touch me on the cheek.—I thought it was an eel’s tail, it felt so cold like. I was a bit scared, too, and mought have made a noise, only [had a yard of broadcloth around my speaking-trumpet.”’ “Why don’t you say your mouth; if that is what you mean?” “Tdunno. It dont sound dignified like.—Anyhow I soon knowed it was a hand, by the feel. And, what's more, thar come a eer in my ear to ‘keep mum.’ The next thing the rope round my hands was cut loose. And then thar come the voice agin. ‘Cant reach your feet,’ it said. ‘I'll guv you the knife. You kin cut loose under water, and swim fur it.’ That was every ble thing, ’cept that I found myself grabbin’ the knife. It wasn’t three minutes after when they histed me overboard like a bag of spiled pertaters.’ Phil paused to give proper effect to the climax, while Susy he'd her breath in dee er et “Go on!” she cried, testily. ‘‘ You do beat every- thing. I’d be sure you went to the bottom, only I know you are here now.”’ “The water wasn’t deep enough to drown Phil Hardy,” was his grave response. ‘You kin bet I weren't three seconds in the water afore I’d cut all loose.—Well, that’s all. I had. my feet, and my hands, and m mes and what more could any reasonable feller want?” ‘“‘[ think any reasonable fellow would want to get ashore,”’ said Susy. “Score one for Susy Lane,” cried e a man, if Phil, laughing. “That's jist what I did want. It weren't that |. the East River was wide enough to wh me but it was so tarnal dark I couldn’t see an inch.—t swum around fur fifteen minutes, and Pll swan if I knowed where I was.” “ However did you get ashore?” she eagerly asked, A Dick agin,’”’ was his sententious answer. “But how did Dick help you?” “Well you see, I he a whistle that Lknowed as well as I know granny’s call to breakfass. I don’t b’lieve you, nor nobody, ever heered half so sweet a whistle. Iswum fur it straight. And it — oin’ like a forty-pianner, and I kept swimmin’ and the first thing that come I was agin a wharf an Dick a holdin’ down his hand tome. I know you never seed anybody half so glad as Dick and me was.”’ “Td just love Dick! I declare I would!’ cried a ir em rppenanianted “if he would only wash his ace. “ That’s the one weak pint about Dick,” declared Phil, gravely. ‘‘You see he heered all their talk through the cabin winder; and he hid in the skiff under the little deck for’ard. It was him chopped my hands loose. And Capting Monroe stepped on him in the boat and thoughthe was a bunch of oakum. And then he went down the wharves and whistled forme. And—that’s all.” “You talk just as if it was nothing.”’ “Tt aint much,” remarked Phil, indifferently. “ — Miss Alice this mornin’? Aint seen her “Why, didn’t f Ng know that she had left? Gone to her aunt’s in the country hh ‘The thunder she has!” exclaimed Phil, spring- ing to his feet in his mupeae. ‘Yes, when she got the letter yesterday—”’ “Letter from who?” sharply interrupted Phil. “* Why, in answer to the one that you took.” ‘*Hello! There’s a wheel loose now sure,” and ae gore vent to a shrill whistle. ‘‘ And she gota etter?’ “Yes, It’s here. She dro it.” And the frightened child led the way to . Hardy’s rooms, and gave him the letter which had been picked up on the floor. Phil unceremoniously read it aloud, for the benefit of the audience. It was without date or address, and read as follows: “My Dear Miss Homer: come myself, but am not able to qos at present. pleasure of soon “Yours affectionately, ‘““Mary RvUssELL.” “That's gay, said Phil, sarcastically. ‘* And she went on that?” “Why, certainly,’’ answered his grandmother. “Then there's. blazes loose, sure enough. Jist smell that paper.” They did so, and found that it exhaled a faint per- ume. “That’s Cunningham’s scent,’ remarked Phil. * And who is Cunningham?” “‘He’s the sweet-scented chap that’s puttin’ up these jobs on Miss Alice.” “ And you think he wrote that letter?” asked Mrs. Hardy, breathlessly. ‘Cause it aint no woman’s handwritin’ nor re. It’s only aman tryin’ to come the woman. Next, there’s that nasty sweet smell. And then agin, jist notice the compersition. ‘Our kerridge!’ Now what woman would heve said ‘our kerridge?’ It would have been ‘my kerridge,’ sure.” Susy boxed his ears for his impudence, but _ his mother was too full of concern to pay heed to his. “Did you not deliver the letter?” she asked, stern- ly. “IT had it stole from me by Cunningham,” said . fast, as if t to drown any re- proaches. ‘It’s that chap that’s nabbed Miss Alice. And it’s this chen Fate goin’ to fetch her back. What kind of a lookin’ feller was it come fur her?” “A tall young man,” replied Mrs. Hardy, with a look of great distress. ‘‘He was polite and honest- looking. Can’t be possible—” “He could afford to look honest, blame his ugly picture!’’ Phil sexaaely interrupted. ‘Did the ker- ridge come up to the door?” “No. Itstood just round the corner of the street.” = Maybe some of,the boys seen it then. I’m goin’ fur them, Phil made a plunge for the door. He was stopped by a distrensed call from Susy. “ Are you sure you can bring Miss Alice back?’’ she asked, graces her eyes full of, tears. “T kin try mighty hard.” “But do you know where she is?” *'The letter says, above Harlem.” “Maybe that is not true.” “Yes it is,” said Ph tively. ‘‘ You see, the chap didn’t that Alice was goin’ to drop the letter fur us to pick up. And he had to tell her somethin’ about where her aunty lived.” ‘*But he might take her somewhere else.” * Dont b’lieve he will. She mought s’pect, and make a noise, you see.” f “Had you Seems get the police, Phil?’ asked « ys . “The perlice be plowed !”’ was Phil’s contemptuous answer. “Dont want to knock down plums fur them to pick uP. Good-by, granny and Susy. Bet I bring her back!”’ tet He kissed them both affectionately, and then ran from the house with a boy’s enthusiasm, flinging his hat before him down the stairs. **Hallo! Joe,” was his first_exclamation outside, “How goes the jiants, hey? Were you round here last night?’ ‘“* Guess so,” Joe Dot replied. ‘“Spose you seen nothin’ of a fancy kerridge that stopped hereaway?” ‘*T seed it,” answered Joe, sententiously. aoe clever. What kind of a lookin’ team was i ? “A pair of spanking fine grays, and a big, hand- some coach, with a monagram on the door.” ‘**A monygram? What's a monygram?”’ “Oh! it’s two or three letters of a man’s name, tied up in a bow-knot, which it would take a school- master to untie. That's it.” “Oh!” groaned Phil. ‘“‘ Did you know the team?” “Like a book. It come from Harry Pierce's stable, in the Bowery. Ibet on that.” **A young lady went off in it?” “Yes, the beautifullest lady. I know the chap that put her in the carriage.” ** Hal” said Phil, ‘‘ Whowas he?” “A tall, conceited feller, that’s st Rene a boy, and aint got to be a man yet. e’s a little touch cross-eyed, his nose is ey p evough to use asa plow, and his mouth might do for a railroad depot. And his head’s aings so close that it’s got more hide than hair onit. That’s his photygraph.” ‘* You have seen him before?” “Yes. About Pierce’s stable.” “Come down that way with me, Joe. I want you to show me that team.’ Nothing loth, Joe accompanied Phil, questioning him closely about his object, and receiving very un- satisfactory answers. The two boys lounged into the stable, and Joe was able to soon point out the horses, a pair of fine grays, who were quietly munch- ing their oats. ‘That’s the man that drove,” he said, pointing to an Irishman standing near them. Phil at once accosted him. ‘Fine team that,’? he remarked. “*Taint asy beat,’’ said the man. ; Myra look as if they’d been away from their oats a he “Tndade and they have then, They weren’t far short of twenty mile yisterday.” ““Which way?’ asked Phil, carelessly. “A bitout of Harlem.” “Ah!” said Phil, easily. ‘‘ Good goers, I spose,” “ They’re jist divils at goin’.”’ “I’ve been above Harlem. Whose place did you drive to?’’ “Not much do I know. Had achap along that knowed. It’s about a mile out, on the river road. An old-fashioned place, with trees a-plenty.”’ Phil continued to question, in his off-handed man- ner, but he knew now about all that the driver knew. He felt, however, that he had gained some very important knowledge. CHAPTER XV. PHIL’S NEW CONFEDERATE. Pai Harpy was not yet ready to make his search for the house of the abductors. He believed in leav- ing no loophole open behind him, and there were two or three matters which it was necessary to have attended to. One of these was settled by hunting up Dirty Dick and placing him on guard duty over the Strong- bow. There was no telling to what extent the two villainous officers might take part in Cunningham’s plans, and it seemed to have them watched. There were ys concocted between the two boys, by which they could communicate with each other if desirable. Joe Dot was let into a portion of the secret, and similarly placed to watch Tim Fagan. Phil consid- ang him another dubious element in the combina- tion. “Dont b’lieve he kin find any more sich blamed rascals in York,’’said Phil. “If anything's to be done one of these chaps has got to do it. That’s = I want them shaddered.” or his own part he had still another object in view. He made the best of his way to 879 Madison avenue, and boldly rung the bell of a stylish man- sion which ” seit in that —— paper me A servan Cc. a who loo own with infinite disdain on Phil's dilapidated garb. “Is this where Mr. Harvey Russell hangs out?” asked Phil, unabashed by the magnificence of the man. ‘‘He dont hang out anywhere,” was the curt. re- ly. Ph Does he live here, then? Maybe that'll suit your ideas better.” ‘“What do you want?” the man shortly demand- ed. ‘I’ve got no time to waste on ragamuffins,”’ = kg do I want, eh?” asked Phil. ‘ es. ” ‘*T want a straight answer. And 1 want none of our slack. Them’s two things. Now shell out, osiah. Does Mr. Russell live here?” “He dont want to see the likes of you,” said the man, angrily, stepping back to shut the door. “Hold your horses there,” cried Phil, advancing his foot to keep the door from cl . “Look you over-fed minion, if you dont Mr. there’s a tleman waiting here to see him, on im- portant bizness, and if you dont jump livelier than a grasshopper, why jist look out fur squalls, that’s all. —Now Hy The man swelled with rage, and looked as if on the point of pager Phil by the collar and shaking the impudence out of him,
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be here Lane ae “You rascally young vagrant!’’ he cried, flercely. "Leave here now, or I'll give you up to a police- man. % it on, Josiah!’’ said Phil, aggravatingly. “I mat be guy up to periicemen, 1 do. ‘And you'd best call Mr. Russell in the wink of a cat’s tail, or there’ll be lively times around these diggin’s.”’ “Who is there?” called a voice from the interior of the house. The man, who had been swelling again, wilted down suddenly. “Ttisa ragged and impudent little street vaga- bond,” was the reply. “What does he want?” “Want to see you,” answered Phil, pushing into the hall. ‘Been tryin’ to beat that into this full- grown potato-bug fur ten minutes; but ’tain’t no go. His hides too thick.” ““Why did you not bring the boy in?’ asked Mr. ae with a concealed smile. ‘‘I do not wish you to deci e what visitors I am to receive. Come in, sir.” Phil entered with an aggravating wink at his an- tagonist, which was as much as the nerves of that individual could bear. Mr. Russell stood back in the hall, newspaper in hand. Phil looked at him curiously as he advanced. He set him down mentally as a very good-looking and well-dressed young man, with a look of kindli- ness about him that pleased the boy’s observant eyes. wi Wonder if him and Miss Alice is sweet?” thought Phil. “I’ve a notion that they’d jist match.” The gentleman u hered his visitor into thé libra) room, and helped him to a seat. But Phil felt muc like a fish out of water as he looked at the grandeur of his surroundings, the white busts, the bronze clock, and the cases full of richly-bound books. “What can I do for you?” asked Mr. Russell, amused at Phil’s manner. “You kin jist hold on till I git the poe of the compass,”’ Phil replied. “ Aint takin’ t thing in every day. Wasn’t brung up to style.” “You are es a welcome to any enjoyment you can get from it.” “T allers did like statues, and gold-laced books, and picters, and sich,” announced Phil. ‘“ And they dont grow none too much down our way.—How- somever, there’s a little girl there, 'm kinder soft on, that’s as pretty as 4 picter and as good as a book. And I like her better than a dozen statues." “ Ah! your sweetheart, is it?”’ “Sartainly,” replied Phil, as simply as if he con- sidered the having a sweetheart a prime necessity of life. ‘* What is her name?” “Tt’s Susy Lane.” “Quite a pretty name,” said the gentleman, in a kindly manner, ‘And now suppose we come to aes What J it you wish to lade ers about?” " se you know a young , whose name’s Miss ies Homer?” Mr. Russell started violently at this opening of Phil’s business. ‘“What do you mean?’ he cried, excitedly. “ Where did you learn that name? You can know nothing of the lady.” F “Dont you ee chee notion. in your pipe.” “You cannot, She isin Liverpool.” “Then her part of Live l’s in New York.” “Miss Homer in New York! Where is she—how did she come?—Can it be possible?” And his face flushed red as he te: **T’m comin’ to that,” answered Phil. “Aint you gota sister, whose name’s Mary?” : “*T have,” he said in surprise. “Know her handwriting ?”’ “T think so.” ut your eyes on that there, and tell me if she writ it.’ ; He handed Mr, Russell the letter which Alice had received. The astonished gentleman read it with | dilated eyes and quick-coming breath, “Tt is a forgery!” he cried. “It has no resem- blance to her handwriting!—And addressed to Miss Homer?” bi ay ** What does all this mean?”* Mr. Russell vehement- ly exclaimed. “I cannot understand her being in America.—And this letter—” ee chaps in New York that’s down on her?” **T do not know of any.” ‘“Maybe you pats a& shee oe name’s Cunning- ham? Anda cu eller, too.” “Ha!” ejacula Mr. Rissall “He is a first- cousin of 3 Homer’s.”’ “Dunno nothin’ ’bout that,” answered Phil. “ But he’s a thunderin’ ca roe And I know this much, it was him that stole Miss Alice out of Liverpool and brung her here. And then he tried to drown her. And then he tried to drown mie cause I fished her story!” he exclaimed, starting : 4 ing the library. floor. already aware. The ft tetions excitable nature was deeply stirred. He could searcely control his indignation as Phil recounted the dastardly attempt at ovurder. * Why did you not inform the police?” “Cause I aint got no notion of them.—And they wouldn’t believe me, neither.” “They will believe me, then.—I am quite sure I ‘know where this house you speak of is situated. I shall have it searched at once.” “Dont you do it!” said Phil, positively. ** And why not?’ ** Cause, ningham is too sharp fur your perlice, that’s why. If he catches the shine of a brass star *bout there, he’ll git rid of the woman, somehow. You bet on that.” ; “That is nonsense, boy. We must have aid.” “What help do we want? A fox anda lion is worth a whole flock of sheep. I’m goin’ to be fox. And I want you be lion when the time comes.” “The time must come soon!’ cried Mr. Russe’ fiercely. ‘Alice in such deadly danger! I canno bear to think of it. Come, boy, at once! We must not lose a minute.” “*Taint minutes that’s the question,”’ replied Phil, coolly. “Ifa feller thinks ’bout minutes he'll make headway too fast. You’re too hot, Mr. Russell. A chap’s got to be jist as cool as ice cream fur a job like this.”’ “Tt is hard to be cool—” ‘“When the gal you're sweet on is in trouble, I know that,” averred Phil, nodding his head saga- ciously. “I kin ’preciate your feelin’s, ‘cause I’m sweet on Susy myself.— But I want you to know that I'm capes of this job, and I’m goin’ to put it through my own way.” sickly “Very well,” replied Mr. Russell, with a effort at a smile. ‘Shall I order the en “Spose you might,” returned Phil, reflectively. “We kin put itupin Harlem. Wont do to fetch it too close. In a short time afterward Phil found himself lying back luxuriously on the crimson cushions of an ele- ant barouche, enjoying himself nage as people urned to look at the strange contrast between him and his companion. ‘This is scrumtious,’’ remarked Phil. ‘ Bet folks think I’m a foreign lord that you're showin bed) to. Couldn’t stare wuss if I was Queen Victoria." Mr. Russell drove aac to the police-head- quarters. He had a will of own, and was not one to yield to Phil’s dictation. He was closeted with the chief for half an hour | before he — 0 ae ep ** Aint fo n’ to take in no peelers, are you?” asked Phil, excitedly. ‘‘ Cause if you are I'll git out.” MS No,” said Mr. Russell, quietly. ‘I have been in- | ronming | Wew go ahead and reconnoiter.”’ In an hour or so afterward they were approaching the house to which Alice taken. Cunningham's Se eee a been lans had failed in several important particulars. Phil's escape from drown- ing. In his getting the forged letter. In his know- le of Mr. Russell.—The villain could scarcely have ene, Sea gp how the safety of his plot was being im- pe en each place carefully as they pro- ceeded, ‘* Hold hard!” cried Phil, at length, in a guard- ed voice. “I twig a face that looks familiar like. Rg od back here while I go up and buzz hima A short distance abead of them stood a square Mr, Russell seemed a little doubtful of the exact | / post tion of the house of which they were in search, | e Phil Hardy, the Boss Boy. — the authorities of what you have told me. | with fright | \ stone mansion, deeply embowered in trees. At the | on the road wasa tall, loose-jointed ateway openi | E his two elbows on the gate. oN leaning wi t was he that had attracted Phil’s attention. | Hastily taking off his coat and throwing it over his | arm, setting his hat back in a countrifled fashion, and wiping his face profusely with his handkerchief, Phil advanced until opposite the boy; then paused | as if tired and looked up at the youth, th. “ This your place?” Phil innocently questioned. | “* Maybe you'd like to see the deeds for it?” | “No. Not as long as you say so. It’s a mighty pretty, er place.”’ : “You ought to see the garden. Then you might talk,” said the youth, removing his elbows from the gate. | “ Well, I dunno as I’ve anything agin it,’’ remark- | ed Phil, opening the gate and wal in as if he | had received a formal invitation. “Tote a chap round to your “pp hewn, and let's see the posies, I'm kinder fond of posies.”’ ‘* Jolly green, he is!’ the youth mentally remark- ' ed. “Come ahead then, boss; I'll open your eyes,” Phil was not slow in accepting this-invitation. He followed his guide through the grounds, with eyes wide with wonder and delight at the beauties which the latter pointed out. . ' | The youth was thrown off his guard by Phil's sim- | ple manner too much to observe that his new friend sort | the sharp lifting of a sash, and the tone of ‘an im- |. | periougs voice. | © Wath? it called. | The youth hastened to respond. . | ‘What boy is that you have there?” ‘“‘A friend of mine,” replied Will, with a ready lie. | “He wanted to see the garden.” , 4 | _ Phil’s head was turned away, and he was very / earnestly inspecting 2 rose. “Take him out of here instantly, or he may be | kicked out, and you after him,” |. The window was lowered with a slam. The two , boys twisted their faces at each other in a most ex- - | “Hallo!” he said. ‘Nice kind of day.” | “i ta know that I said it wasn’t,”’ drawled the you | at her foe. 1s ns ressive manner. But Phil took good care to keep orga, turned aside as he followed his guide to ate. He had ized the voice as tha t of ham. But he was not aware that the iater seen and known his face before o the win- dow, and was now remarking, with a very dark ook: ; “It is that boy! There can be no mistake about it! ‘he young hound is dan . How under baavon e has eacaped fram cks and my retreat already, Will at sight. As I live, lam getting afraid youngster. He must and shall be put out of the, way. le walked the floor nervously for several minutes, in deep 9 “The boy is not alone in his knowledge,” he con- tinued. ‘This house may be already watched by the police. I must get rid of my female A or crook to-night.—And of the boy, too, I He will be back here, on some burglarious , be- fore the night is old. If he isl will shoot him asI Mr. Russell would a troublesome cat.” Meanwhile Phil was saying to Mr. H “Got him! He’s there hisself. And the There’s fancy bars to her winder. I'm ole her out of that shanty to-night, or explode.” — CHAPTER XVI. IN THE TOILS. Wer must return to Alice Homer, whom we left: ust ushered into the presence of her direst foe. er soul sunk within her as she encountered his enpl searching eyes and the mocking triumph of ace, “Tam glad to see you,"’ he said, with an expres- sion of politeness, She made no answer, but sunk into a chair, faint at heart to learn how basely she had been deceived. “Mrs, Carson is not at home,” he continued. “But I shall be happy to do the honors of her house in her absence.” ““Is this Mrs. Carson’s house?” asked Alice, with a quick hope of relief. “Oh! It w will be away from home for a day or two,—But I sball try and entertain you.” “You!” she gasped, tring on him her eyes wide “Yes,” he replied, with one of his little sneering at I shall see that you are well cared for.” “Why have you brought me here?’’ cried Alice, with a sudden outburst of indignation. “It was the basest, the cruelest of lies, by which you deceived me, too, git * By using. the name of your lover, Harvey Rus- sell, in vain?’’ he mockingly auked. 4 “'By lying; b forging by every base act!" she indignantly exc ed. “You ob annoy me by 8 ng of Harvey Russell as lover. Yao love hin much as you force me to ise you.” ; as Now, my dear Alice, you are tter than the oocaaion calls for,’ he quietly replied. “It is never advisable to lose your temper about trifles,” He stood with an elbow on the mantle, rs toying idly with his watch-chain, his cold eyes steadily fixed upon her changeful face. “Why have you brought me here?’ she demanded, with a frightened glance round. “ You have already tried to murder me. Is it to repeat your effort?” ! Indignation a with the deep dread in her voice, She. rose m her seat ant stood with a trembling hand on the back of the chair, looking up so unpleasantly,” he replied, with ashrug. “You have got some Yaien- lous fancy in your head. Why, it is five years since i Neaieors int atte t Park, wh “ Eixce 8 rnoon, a’ when you followed me for miles through the dot!” "oe er indignant outburst, ou refer,’’ he coldly re- “There, child, you do talk “T don’t know to what as 2 ES imagi on is at work, Alice.” “Miss Homer, ou_ please,” ckly re- pg me “Ts it your object to hold me as @ prison- er here?”’ “A prisoner? Now that is another of your idle fancies, Of course you are free.” \ ** Then I shall go,’ ape briefly said. The folding doors of the or were at her right hand. With a quick, bird-like movement, she caught the knob and flun door wide open, darting out into the hall. . He followed. with some deliberation, She had already reached the front door, and was striving eagerly to open it, “T am afraid somebody has turned the key in that,” he quietly said. “T hope you will not break I remand with frightened eyes down e turn th eyes dow: the hall, His fated tore filled the pemamn: d dened aigts $2 that direction. She stood at bay, like “that I was trying to detain you against your will.” “So you are, sir!’’ she replied, his tone her soul with 6 in on, © Open this door ingherinte or I shall for help.” Y, you may call if you wish to exercise gome voice,’” was the mocking answer. “I fear there wong Pe, no gion romalh we eee ed a ere, and voices do not ar ese thick stone walls,” ha m= “wt y do you persecute me?” was her appealing demand. “Is it my money? You are weleome 1 it
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ell, Only, hot me go! Only cease your efforts to de- stroy me!’ sehen a Do reat aarwand work in, all my ions. It was your agents, at Liverpool, whe wrote mea] letter, = de- coyed mé.on board that dread . It was your a ocean voy- me into in- have suc only for—”. . e paused irresolutely, turning somewhat pale. “i iP vs A ‘or what?” ) A “Twill not betray my rescuer into your hands, He hoe may be, m his he det ; abe passed over his face as he answered: “T know him. 80 you need not be so careful. I f that he will not do much more reseuing.”’ ie ‘| Have you already murdered him?’ she ask ith a scared look, ; by , if you are not the most unpleasant woma IT have ever talked with,” he answered, shruggin, his shoulders. your brain must be a little oe on the subject of p' people out of the way. Reassure qurselt. T have not the most remote in- oing any murdering, as you so bluntly putting tention 2 term it. ‘*And what more polite term have you for your effort to take my life?’’ she sarcastically asked. “There is enough of: this,” he sternly replied. “ My patience is not all enduring, Alice Homer.”’ “ me go!” she cried, nervously turning the latch. ‘Iwill say no more. I will never speak of you again. Only let me go!” “You shall go—but it shall, be where I will,” he replied, striding toward her and seizing her wrist in his strong aripe. Sh rene a moment ineffectually, her face flushed with anger. Then she suddenly grew pale and tottered kward, She w have fallen but that he caught her. The scene through which she had passed had been too much for her powers or eudurance, She had fainted. ** Deuced lucky,” grimly said. “It will put an ead toa scene that I was getiing tired of. Now to dis of her before she comes to.” e proceeded to the rear of the house.on the sec- ond floor. Here was a room whose windows had been lightly but effectually barred against any strengih that she could display,, The sash were drawn down a few inches at the top for ventilation, but otherwise they were tightly fastened, “This wili make a good nest for my bird,” he solil- | oquize: he laid her slender form on a lounge. ‘I wr ease tet Wises too on i: on, his hand invol xpression, A fieren sais She li er there to come to; and if she never comes to,,so much the better,” |. . He stood looking down on "pian oe a very dark stealing toward ‘She must be disposed But then there remains it. And I haye not ve it to those brutes on the bs age ) oping simenger n their word to con- it, It is the sater plan.” umbling about her pockets as he spoke these last words, iu ie “Tn swear if ene hasn't got rid of that letter!’ he spqenies | es bad, Butshe may have dro: it in the carriage.” ay have ar pped BR og the, Firay behind him he hastened down- , jeaving Alice plunged in a deep dnacnaltities lay thus for. pte her lifelessness gradually ng into a more natural sleep. It was late night when she awoke, The room was in utter darkness. It was some time before she could pln, & realizing sense of her situation. Bat gradually the whole horror of the position in which she was came upon her. Herp throbbed with bitter Fry A fear of the darkness mingled with the asp read of ~ enemy. In uncon olable aon 2 aD EUnE, up and ran madly across the room, beat- ing with all _ strength on the door she encoun- It was allin vain. There no response, Tt was no repl Mo the I for ic] car ro) est. “Tf I dared ;"’ he muttered, of. I could do it safely now. the body; that cf = nee eall fe A which she ment ringing through the house. eathly stillness r over all, and failed to yield to her wild appeal. “My God! what will become of me?’ moaned.Alice, foohly, as she staggered and fell prone upon the Or. joo Ob sit LE Sy : : She was too weak to,rise, and lay in 1.2Ipless mis- ery for what woes foure her’ sonses praniuell yielding to that. blessea boon, of sleep, which bain f to so.many weary souls. Day had dawned when she — recovered con- scioummess. It was a long and, miserable day, its monotony only broken ay ane appearance with her — of a whom she recognized as the agent of hera stor, But she had no wish to eat, tasted. Out.of the t i ‘ ut.of the two winowe.as nge ate sparingly of the food brought her, a dee’ Rreaghe of the refreshing te p shana how incautious she been parting despite her ut- had bee - ly @ d she e beverage -en-etrongly an beco te was y the same pen “ec pd which had before locked her senses in ra) on. Daricaoss had long fallen when the door of her . Pe ee ee eee ee Phil Hardy, the Boss Boy. a cautiously opened and Cunningham en 5 pes “Tc has worked,” he said, tri hantly, as he saw aslight form ent prone and Deeebonioes on the floor. ‘ or ‘ Hastily calling down the stairs the boy Will ap- “Ts the carriage ready?” he asked. “ Yi sir. ” y “Allri ht. ‘That will do.” As Will retired Mr. Cunningham quickly envelop- ed Alice’s insensible frame in a dark cloth, and lifted and bore her hastily down-stairs. Five afterward the sound of wheels de- noted the rapid departure of a carriage. “Now for the spy,’ said Cunningham, with an air of deep satisfaction, as he returned to the house. “Tf I can shoot the Zouns, hound as a burglar it will be a glorious riddance.” Tt was an hour afterward when the light figure of Phil Hardy cautiously approached the house from the garden, followed at.a distance by Mr, Russell. **T don’t quite like the looks of things,” said Phil, dubiously. ‘‘ Let me work up a little closer.” At that instant a shrill whistle, three times repeat- ed, sounded from the direction of the road. “‘ Dirty Dick’s signal, by all that’s blue!” cried Phil... ‘Down with you, and craw] out lively.” Phil’s fall to his hands and knees was not an in- stant too soon, for the same moment a pistol-shot resounded, and a ball swept past the space which he had just occupied. CHAPTER XVII, A DOUBLE CHASE. Pum. Harpy’s fall bad been so nearly simultane- ous with the report of the pistol, that it was natural to suppose that he had been shot and had fallen in consequence, Such was Cunningham’s idea, and he stood Jook- ing wih great satisfaction at the dark spot in which he fancied that he could trace the outlines of the fallen boy. 2 “Not bad for an after dark aim,” he said. “I think that boy is out of my way. The little rogue would have put me to a deuced lot of trouble if I hadn’t settled him.—The ball must have hit him hard. ‘Uhere was not acry, nor a groan even.” So speaking, with as much unconcern of manner as if he had simply killed a wasp, he left the house and walked out toward the dark spot in the shrub- bery which he imagined to be Phil’s body, To his amazement it proved to be only the shadow of a bush, There was no Phil there. “J'll swear if that isn’t odd!’ he muttered, look- ing eagerly around with the idea that the boy might have been wounded and have crept a short ance away. But look as he would he could find no trace of the boy. Te lit a match and flashed its light on the sur- roping sward... There was no sign of blood, ‘Can it be ble that he has escaped again?” he asked himself, ‘‘It looks like it. The boy must have a charmed life.” : At this moment the boy, Will, appeared, with an excited look. “T heard a pistol go off, sir,” he explained. . * Yas, oaer ata burglar, fet Counts ham, u He must. be hid somewhere in the bushes. Their search was destined to prove unsw * re spose rapidly. ‘Go to ‘the, house..and) § arry. Cte aenot you search the ,prounds. ecessful.. Phil and his companion were ady outside the and were proceeding rapidly in the direc-. gos tion of the signal they had heard, j ‘ “There's somethin’ mighty queer "bout. that bul- let,” said Phil, refiectiyely, “If I hadn't jist slid down I'd been toppled over like a stray pigeon, What's your notion ‘bout it, Mr. Russell?” “I think,” was the quiet reply,. ‘‘ that, Cunning- ham knew you this afternoon, and has been on the watch. He may have expected our return to-night.” “He mought, that’s a fact,” answered Phil reflec- tively. ‘It was anarrer squeak, anyhow, _ That's twice I've got away by a half-inch. The third time’s got tocome, Hope I'll only have the same Juck.” “T hope you will,—But where are nae going now?” “After the little chap that whistled. Dirty Dick we call him.—Jist wait. [ll stir him up agin.’ Phil whistled, making the same signal they had heard; but-in a much Jower tone. . It was ansvrered from the road, just before them, A few steps more brought them in sight of a slender figure ey, the roadside. “Dick!” eri }, cautiously. ' “It’s that. ideYrcal person,” answered the boy. “Glad you heeref me. I’ve been goin’ along here whistlin’ for a good while. Didn’t know which was the house.” ‘“And what’s up now?” Phil shortly asked. “Struck any trail? ‘*Guess so. Who’s that with you?” “This Mr. Russell, Miss Homer’s friend.” _. “Allright. You didn’t go through the house?” “No, norean’t now, They’re on the look-oup. I comme ee near gittin ventilated with a pistol e Re ““Heered the shot. Thought posnehedy had got wakened up,” said Dick, as coolly as if he lived in an atmosphere of ‘bullets. ‘Well, there aint no use goist’ h the house now.” Bis. the reason ther aint?’ asked Phil, in his 7 “Cause the woman’s not there. She's teok down the river | ** Down the river!” cried Mr. Russell, with a quick Yes, I seed it myself.” “And you're terrible lorg-winded in telling it,” EE ee wee een growled Phil, ‘ We’re wastin’ minutes, and we aint got none to s . Who wasit took her? And how was it done?’ “Tu was the captain of the Strongbow. He went up stream jist after dark, with two sailors to row. I follered in Joe Brown’s skiff.’ Kept him in sight till he landed, a piece above here. Then I come ashore below, and scouted round.” “Ani what did you learn?” asked Mr. Russell, ex- tedly. Bout half an hour ago a carriage come dashin’ down the shore. It dropped anchor jist at the boat. Then they took out of it somethin’ that I knowed was a woman, from the size and shape. Butshe was all wrapped up, so that you couldn’t see asign of her from head to toe,” Ae bt you might be mistaken,” suggested Mr. ussell, ‘Mistaken be blowed!” returned Dick, with a sniff of contempt. “Phil and me dont git mistaken, a you reckernise this as wimmen’s fixins?” e drew a vail from his pocket. P “Yes,” replied Mr, Russell. ; ‘Looks like the one Miss Alice had on,”’ said Phil. “Well, I Mund that where they took her out of the carriage. 1’m dead sure of that.” ‘“We must be alive!’ cried Phil, with a sudden energy. “Every minute counts. Sure it was the capting?” Yes, and two sailors.” “Then she’s all right yit. The capting’s a timer- some feller alongside that mate. And he wont ven- ture to dip her under afore them sailors.”’ “What are we to do?”’ asked Mr. Russell, yielding Phil the leadership. ‘Go fer them like ten thousand bricks!”’ exclaim- ed Phil, with great energy. ‘‘You take the skiff, Dick, and pull hard down the river. Thatis if you aint played out now.” “Nery a bit,” said Dick, vigorously. “Fetch up about the Strongbow, and keep your eyes and ears open. Mr. Russell and me will take the kerridge and drive in. Strike out lively, Dick. There aint a minute to be lost.” With few words more they separated, Dick going to his boat, and Mr. Russell and Phil hurrying to the stable at which their carriage had been put up. Their drive back to New York was. a rapid one. Through the streets er. dashed, the wheels _rat- tling noisily in the still night. It would have been a dangerous progress by daplgns but now the avenues were nearly deserted. Policemen stirred on their posts and seemed half inclined to stop the fast driving of our friends. But it was a warm night, and the exertion might have been considerable, So there was no drawback on Mr. Russell's furious driving, and in a remarkably short space of time they were near the East River wharves, and in the vicinity of the Strongbow. J ; - It was necessary now to take a different mode of procedure. Putting up the carriage at a hotel, which was fortunately found open, they hastened to the wharf. It was now past midnight, The, night was well lighted, however, by a moon which had lately risen, and which threw a flood of silvery radiance over stream and city, beautifully bringing out the spars, and net-like tracery.of ropes, which lay defined against the starlit sky. ‘That is our ship,” said Phil, cautiously pointing to the Strongbow, which now, fully unloaded, rose high out of the water. ‘She looks to be fast asleep. . 4 see a live thing the size of a mouse on her ec ” “Can they have arrived yet with the boat?” asked Mr. Russell. “They’ve had time enough,” replied EAD cane: dently,. *' Jist you rest here, agin the post. I'll scoot "Othe gual Gamkeotdhehay beapnae alent e small figure, of the boy became almost imper- ceptible, as he passed in a stooping attitude along the pier, in the shadow. of the ship’s hull, Mr. Russell stood tly concealed by the post, and waited impatiently for his return,, ‘ he observant eyes next saw Phil on the deck, moving with excessive caution, and pausing, as if to listen, at the cabin-door. : He was obliged to suddenly crouch down, in the shadow of a coil of ropes, as this door opened, and a tall, dark;bearded man stepped on deck. ‘“T fancied I heard a noise,” he remarked to some one: below, ‘‘ but it must-have been a rat, There is nothing here except moonlight. There is a con- founded sight too much of that.” “To-night wont do,”’ spoke a voice from below, which Phil recognized as that of Captain Monrce. “Nor to-morrow night either if the moon keeps so cursed bright,” returned the mate. ‘‘ We cansafely go to our beds and sleep the sleep of the virtuous.”’ There was aslight laugh from below as he retired, clog the door behind him. _ ir, Russell had.seen this movement, but had not heard.the low-spoken words. »He waited quietly for ee Ail correct,”’ eal the latte rising ddenly be correc e Ty » Su - side. him. , “the: cn rots ss Homer, I mane, It comes kind of nat'ral to say gal, some- es,” bans ‘Are you sure?” ‘ ' “ Sartain.—And, what’s more, we’re all sound fur to-night. We kin go home and snooze in our virtu- ous beds, as Mate Hendricks says.”’ ““You overheard them then?” Mr. Russell eagerly asked. ; g t else was I thar for, I'd like to know? Why I've got ears like gimlets, and kin screw them into any man’s ess."’ Phil proceeded to relate what had passed, to the intense interest of his auditor. 1 “No use keepin’ out of bed and losing our s.°p,”
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he concluded. “ We've got to be wide awake to- morrer, you bet. You kin strike fur your perlicers as pony, in the mornin’ as you like. Reckon we'll want help. ‘Where is the boy, Dick?” “Gat be fur OF now.” angwered Phi looking u reg “You kin sli I'll wait fur Dick an pap Guess he’s makin’ the water bile some- we Good night th d be cautious,” enjoined M -2 en; an cautious,’’ enjoin Mi. Russell ; “You pont our bottom~dollar on that,” replied bon “When I git a good hand I dont waste my rumps.” Mr. Russell departed, leaving Phil‘on the watch. In ten minutes more his quick eyes discerned the boat of Dirty Dick, moving rapidly down with the current, ae Phil gave a preconcerted signal, and very soon Dick was ashore and had joined him. Then Phil treated his friend to a synopsis of the situation, as the eded together in search of that slumber wit both needed. CHAPTER XIX. MRS. HARDY’S CALLER. Tur two boys rose betimes the next morning, Phil taking care that Dick’s face should have a sound scrubbing in cold water. “*Tt’s comin’, Dick,” he said, eying him critically. “You're gettin’ down tothe nat’ral skin agin. If I only had.you in hand for ’bout six weeks, with plenty of sandpaper.—Dont be afeard of the soap. It wont hurt you.” | “Tf a feller swallers a pint of soap suds it aint so nice,” replied Dick, sputtering, ‘If wish you’d git out, You make me nervous talking.” With a laugh Philleft the room, Dick continuing his ablutions with unwonted energy. Mrs. Hardy was bustling about the outer room, as busy as a bee in the soason of flowers. “So you are home again ” she said, discontented- ly. “Tam Shaye so that t dont look for you before morning. ou are having too much night business, “* Now dont scold, granny,’’ returned the boy, kiss- ing her affectionately. .‘* Dont ’spect to have much more ofit. I’m after Miss Alice, hotfoot.” “And is there any hope?’ she eagerly asked. “Have you discovered anything?’ “ You bet high on that! the bird was in. That’s somethin’. empty now, but I know where the bird has flew to. That’s somethin’ more.” ; “You're growing to bea terrible smart fellow,” said Mrs. Hardy, looking proudly upon the boy. 7 “You're going to be just like your father. He was terrible smart too “ and like my jist as smart as she’s nice,” ; “Oh! you get out, you flatterer,” she laughingly rejoined... .“‘There’s your friend, Susy Lane, out there “I know she’s walting for you,” edb a i’ took ‘the be and hile 1 ae lady to hex re: st, preparations, wh he hunted u 8 yom nie Who awaited him at the head of the a 8 ‘ ) trl ing, to see you,” shé excitedly cried. “I wat 10 fear ail avout f 'Eivessy bd topt ble An we'll all B.. , their os seaaiepipend = a she hese as she 8 ng up aga each other lov. vy Phil pen Hed to wri: tt “Sit down here com- ‘ odds to me. f me allo! His is fun,” spoke a gleeful voice be- mace,, Yere we an it your own way,” rejoined Phil. ‘‘ It dont “This the way you Wo spend your look, at y ae mer swow if he aint got a clean face! Look here, Busy. a ‘ou. ever 500 sich a good-lookin’ chap as Dick, 6 dire off?” pS Oh} you up! said Dick, blushingly. |‘ Best eome to breakfast. Mrs. Hardy sent. me on yous ; ont RS had g0 back on breakfuss,” said Phil, cally. “Ids engl rtainly had lent appetite @ boys certai a most excellent appetite, and ‘cleaned Mrs. Hardy's table as clean as a new aan Ts that letter mf y,” remarked Phi pointing to the letter which Alice had dropped, an which now lay on the mantle. - ‘‘1t mought be use- ful some day.’ ; “T will attend to it LILLe dys 3 “He aint moved out of his den, so far as I've seen. And I’ve watched kind of close.” dan CL bad Le “Tl be fiddled if there he dont go now!” cried Dick. ‘And mokiug straight for the w.?? ' “ Ffe’d best step aboard soon then, or he step Overboard,’’ returned Joe. bel ws vis ** What do you mean?” Phil sharply asked. , 4 One t the Strongbow is getting ready to draw out of dock.” amg * aoe blazes she is! Know where she is goin’?” Ly 0. ) Be innocent like, you know.” Without a word Joe left them, Le} “T wish Mr. Russell was here with his perlice,” said Philanxiously. “If she's goin’ to put to sea it rt be a bad job.” , “We'd have to foller her, that’s all. Ina steam tug or some ." ! oe returned after a few minutes’ absence: “She's not going far,” heremarked. ‘ Only across to Brooklyn. She's to take in part of her cargo at ga wharf.” iD ini ; ** Know’ the like a book,” cried’ Phil, well leased with this information, “S$ ose, too, they’re ok Fe omens ae dont know that there's an y else on the ‘ (trier ae a dozen soaked herrings yet, Phil,” remar ck. ee dont you appear to them—like a ghost?" ed Joe. ‘“‘ By Jove, that’s a good idear!’’ exclaimed Phil, | slap fe his knee in delight. ‘‘Wouldn’t like noth. | in’ better than to make that little cmptind skip. | If I dont cross the river in the Strongbow, shoot | me!” ” ¢ “Tt’s dangerous, P cautioned Dick. ’ “Bois Nalin” on the curbstones,” said Phil, de- cidedly. ‘‘There’s so much danger a-goin’ a felles never knows buta brick might jump out of the pave. ment and hit him in the head. One danger aint no wuss than another.”’ ® Phil resolutely walked down to the wharf, followed by his two companions. He was too wide awake, ough, to.let himself be seen by his enemies on . He reconnoitered from &@ post, . The ship did show indications of immediate de- parture. The sailors were gathering up a few arti- cles belonging to her, which lay upon the wharf, Outside lay a tug, which had just steamed in, and | was preparing to attach itself to the vessel. The ; captain and mate stood amidships, directing these . es or na Fagan also was there, talking with the mate, A quick thought flashed across Phil’s mind. He turned to Dick. , _‘*You’re good on the dance and song, Dick. Jist } you jump etonasl there, near the bow. Give them 9 a Jt * Se ee ee Ss eee = eee ee eee ee ee x “Scoot down there, and ask some of the sailors. ° ryin’ to fling us off the track.—Though ‘they must | |
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stowed away on board while the capting mate “ne T dont Baow exactly how I'll like the kicking “T don ow exac ow I’ © the 4 returned mmited Dick, ru . ‘Oh! hop round like a skeeter, and they wont hurt you. Pass round your hat, like an Italian minstrel with an organ.—Come, dig, boy! You aint afeard of them bee 4 , j “Not much!” said Dick, walking nee saree’. “TI sposether’ll a gen named Mr. Russ be here soon,” exp Phil to Joe Dot, ‘He likely have some perlicers with him. And he'll be too late, as gentlemen allers are. Jist you tell him where ship has fone to.”’ ‘What kind of a looking cove?”’ “A me gentleman. ‘Bout as h as you are, be twice as stout. Dressed in a mighty stylish gray rig. ‘“Guess ['ll know him. What's youn dodge now?” “To sell out a couple of rascals, that’s all.” ; By this time Dick reached the ship. Leaping lightly to the deck he stationed himself near the capstan, and commenced a popular ditty in a shrill boyish voice, that was by no means unmusical. e sailors at once ceased their labors, and turned to look at him. He commenced a dance with the break-down which seemed to please , to judge by their laughter and What's broke loose here?” cried the mate, suddenly ae g his conversation with Fagan, and hastening forwar “Only a bit of fun, et” Dick humbly _re- plied. ‘*Thought you wouldn’t keer if a poor boy picked me few pennies from these brave sailors.” ‘We have no time for any of your nonsense,” growled the mate, a little mollified, however, by Dick’s shrewd advancement in his title. Come, slide now.” “Oh! let the boy finish his song,” protested old Bowline, the privileged sailor. “It wont take him a 1mainute, and we dont often hear as good a song.” ‘Hurry up then!” returned the mate, more gra- ciously, “And take care you don’t show yourself here again. We want no tomfoolery.” The captain and Fagan had walked forward after the mate. But as the latter had taken the disturb; force in hand, his superior officer was cones leave it in his hands, and stood in suence, In fact Captain Monroe liked a good song as well as any of his men, and was not at all disposed to in- terfere in Dick’s ditty. Nor did he object to the jig with which the lad finished his amateur effort at melody. ; “Hope you'll drop somethin’ now ina r boy’s hat, that’s got a sick mother at home, and ten small brothers and sisters, without a bite in the house, and nothin to eat, and only my talent to keep them from 8 , Dick got this off with the true professional whine, adding a series of other particulars of his extreme pov as he circulated through the group of sail- ors. ‘* And [ hope the captain's a-going to drop in some- oe henaanene,t? Sacaooiennt, apex! his small receipts as he presented his ragged h ear to the mai te, With a subdued growl the latter deposited a small Pay you gitit twice back agin,” said Dick, f : ou ce bac in,”’ sa ick, fer- . x Acad Iku ow the commodore aint going to: vent. for; “4 r Dick, the minstrel i hap you dont rank above me yet," said Cap- tain Monroe, laughing. ‘* Here’s the price of a loaf, my bee: And now you'd best be going.” ‘Not till this gentleman has given me that of silver that’s burning his fingers,’ persisted handing the hatto Fagan. “Tve got no money for vagabonds,” and the latter turned surlily away. “And I ne gentleman!" said Dick, rue- fully.—* Well, well, the best will make mistakes, you see. We both made one.” ‘What do you mean?” asked Fagan, sharply turn- ing. Fy aint no walkin’ dictionary,’ replied the un- daunted boy. ‘Thought I plain enough.” It was certainly plain enough for the sailors to un- derstand and to relish it, judging by their subdued laugh. Vian would have made some fierce reply, but was hos by Dick's commencing another song, Ww! e 4 off with intense liveliness. As he sung his eyes were fixed aft, and saw what none of the others did, the gliding of a small form along the deck, and its disappearance down the coim- panionway. il was fairly on board. _ “Come, get out now,” cried the mate. ‘We are coin & cast off. Do you want to go to sea?” “ 'O iece ick, uldn’t mind goin’ to Brooklyn,” said Dick, ; with a shrewd wink. ‘It'll save ferriage,”’ ‘‘ Who told you we were bound for Brooklyn?” re fa i last 7 bas ** Oast 0: rope!” cried the captain, s lv. The mate was instantly recalled toa aaanet his ; duty, and stopped his chatter with Dick to attend to ge ne Seen under way. ) The boy was as good as his word. He kept aboard while the vessel slowly lett the dock and commen her short voyage across the river. Not caring to encounter the mate, he went below, into sailors’ quarters, where he occupied himself in a voyage of discovery of the ship's in- terior. . Meanwhile Phil, as we have seen, had aitoped stealthily aboard the vessel, and introduced : self into the cabin while Dick was attracting the attention of all on It was a dangerous s postition for the boy to be J, of concealment and he looked around for a place of case of being suddenly intruded upon. The cabin of the gn. wag ormed a room of considerable size, and rather plainly furnished, a —_ a few chairs, and a lounge; being the principal articles. There were a couple of state-rooms on each side. Two of these ly open, forming the bed- rooms of the capi and mate. The other two were locked. Phil next tried the door in the forward part of the cabin, leading to the room in which he had been confined. It was only closed by a bolt on the cabin side, and he quickly opened it, and entered his old rison. The apartment was a contracted one, and very faintly lighted by a dim illumination coming from the forward part of the vessel. . He had more than half expected to find Alice con- fined here, and it was with a feeling of disappoint- ment that he found the room empty. “Where in blazes have they got her, then?’ he muttered. ‘I dont know any other place ’cept it’s one of them state-rooms. Here’s a door leading for’ard. Maybe I’d best explore.” The room formed a sort of himber-closet for the was a dim profundity into which he looked. The cargo had been removed from this part of the *tween-decks, and the hatches fastened down. Its only light came through a grating in the bulkhead forward, and lost itself in the center of the wide concavity, failing to penetrate the dark sides. “That's all rieht thought Phil, stepping boldl forward. ‘‘Dunno what this bucket of water is left settin’ here fur, ’cept they want to guv a fellera foot-bath.—Hello! here’s a hole and a ladder. Guess Tl take a look further down.” The ladder led down to a lower hold, which Jay in almost complete darkness, the light which came down with Phil hardly revealing the spot on which he stood. All else was profound gloom, except where, in what appeared an interminable distance forward, a faint beam of pie struggled through what egy to be a closed hatchway. “Well, if it aint dark enough to cut, here, I’ll sell out,” muttered Phil, venturing several steps forward in the darkness. There was no obstruction. This hold, too, had was now gray. Satisfied with his lorations so far, and gro anxious about the main object of his adventure, P. made the best of his way back, reaching the small apartment adjoining the cabin. Before venturing further he looked warily soe a minute opening in the door. His quick ear caught, at the same moment, a step on the cabin stairs. It was Captain Monroe, who now paused in the center of the cabin, his small, fox-like face peering over something. : An idea occurred to the boy. Going cautiously back to where he had seen the bucket of water, he dipped his head into it as deeply as the bucket would salt water. ey ‘Now for it,’ muttered Phil, in a choking voice. When he again reached his point of view, he found Captain Monroe in the act of unlocking one of the state-room doors. *That’s where he keeps Miss Alice,’ thought Phil. “ Now to “e him a header.” The captain was on the point of looking into the room whose door he had partly opened, when he was startled by an odd noise behind him. He turned ee a behold, with starting eyes, a small head protruding from the lumber-room into the cabin, a head dripping with water, the hair hanging in soaked masses about the face that seemed to ooze water. He knew the face to be that of the boy whose ‘helpless form he had flung into the river. A ‘“‘T’ve been drownded!”’ muttered Phil, in sepulchral ones. The captain’s face grew white as he os at this apparition, his superstitious soul full of dread. . “Tve been drownded!” repeated Phil, in tones that seemed drawn from as far down as his toes. It was too much for the guilty nature of the cap- tain. With a suppressed cry of dread he ran for the companionway, and dashed up the stairs asif in fear of being carried bodily to the lower regions. With a laugh of triumph at his success, Phil hastily entered the cabin. The door of the state-room stood ajar, and he lost no time in flinging it wide rudely by the arm, c “ Com 4 what was expected of her. alf | and haif out of the room, the door o appropriated the key. ging, Phil hurried her which he locked and warily around. Phil could see that he was nervous | mit. He came up streaming like a mermaid with | formed part of the stowage capacity of the ship, and “This way! Quick as lightning!’ he exclaimed, —- her forward. ; e ded involuntarily, like one walking in a dream. In a minute Phil had her through the lum- ber-room and into the hold beyond. Lea her there, he returned to close the doors he had left open behind him Atthat moment he heard the heavy step of the mate descending into the cabin, and his harsh voice mutte 3 “Ghosts be blowed! There’s a screw loose in Cap Monroe's brains.” CHAPTER XXII. RATS IN A TRAP. THERE was no time to be lost. The mate was of different caliber from the captain, and. would be more likely to discharge a chair at Phil's soaking head than to run from 5 ‘He said he had opened the state-room door. I dont see any signs of it,’’ growled the mate, t a key from his own pocket and applying it to the lock. Phil hastened from the door at which he had been atone and hurried back to where he had left his charge. * 'There’ll be somethin’ hot to pay soon,” he said. mate had just discovered that his bird had flown; the state-room was ny **Come, Miss Alice,” cneeneteunly, exclaimed. “These is dangerous quarters. We must be gitting.” Her previous hasty movement had jas recalled her flown senses, and she yielded to Phil with better command of her nerves, He led her to the hatchway, opening to the lower hold, and aided her, with some difficulty, down the narrow ladder. “Here we are now,” said Phil, cheerily, “in darkness as thick as jelly. And it wont be five minutes afore we’re follered. Feel better, Miss Alice?” ““My head is very thick and confused,” she hesi- tatingly replied. ‘ Where are we?” ‘Away down in the second story cellar of the Strongbow. Know whoI am?” dieia pe uneasil Fak ne ded Pll: with “Thought you n’t,”” respon a slight laugh. “I’m Phil Hardy. I’m the chap that took you out of the water once and that’s a goin’ to take tage out of the fire, now.”’ “Oh, yes; I remember you,”’ she replied dubious- ly. It was evident that her faculties had not fully returned. “Wait here a minute,” cried Phil. He dashed up the ladder to the deck above. Ina minute he returned with the half-emptied bucket. open. ; Tt was as he had hoped. There ley. reclining on a | omer, her eyes | “Here! Dash some of this in your face,” he or- dered, “It'll wash the cobwebs out of your brain quicker’n any thing I know of.” é heid up the bucket while she mechanivally obeyed him, giving her face a plentiful ablution in the cold water. It had the effect he anticipated. Her conscious- ness returned more fully, and she looked around her with a clearer idea of the situation, “Towels aint handy,” explained Phil. ‘ But it’s. oy. water, It'll dry off.” e carefully placed the bucket at the foot of the ladder, while she partially dried her face with her bandkerchief. “Here they come!” Phil cautiously remarked, his quick he catching a footstep on the deck above. “We've got to be movin’.”’ Taking her hand he led her through the gloom to- ward the light which so faintly illuminated the hold. It was a forward hatchway, closed with grating, through whose Fe agent the ght came down, Phil ran hastily up the ladder which led to it, and tried to push it aside. His attempt was vain; it was fastened above. At the same moment a gleam of light shone from the other pescbwrey and they saw the sturdy figure of the mate descen ing. : “Tf we aint rats in a trap, then there’s no pum kins,” muttered Phil, looking doubtfully aro “Wonder if Dick’s aboard?” I'll guv a call, a . ith his lips to the grating Phil whistled, repeat- ing it three times in quick succession. fe was answered in an unexpected way, by_ the sudden extinguishment of. the light aft,and bya fierce curse from the lips of the mate. Phil at once divined the cause. He clapped his hands on his knees in delight “Tf he aint ree into the water-bucket, sell me out! Wish I only had another bucket, full! I'd guv him a shower-bath, sure.” ; ‘““What shall we do, Phil?’ asked Alice, anxiously, as she heard her foe cursing as he ascended the lad- der again. ‘““Wish I only knowed,” answered Phil. “I’m desp’rate afeared we're in atrap. If Dick was only about now.” His words were answered by a repetition of his signal, from the deck above the froting. “Hello! that’s clever,” cried Phil, quickly ascend- ing the ladder. “Here we are, Dick. confounded trap-door, or we’ll be in trouble, sure.” “ All right!’ came the voice of Dick from above, and his honest eyes were visible through the open- ings, ‘Hold hard. Ill fetch her soon.’ ‘Here comes our enemy again,” said Alice, in a | low tone. ” The light which now flashed through the hold was more intense than that which had been so suddenly ut out. Butit was also more contracted in range. t came from a dark lantern, which threw but a nar~ ee a
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in. now line of light, leaving the remainder of the hold in deeper gloom than ever. The r stood on the deck, slowly*urning, and throwing the sharp beam of light suc¢sssively over eve int of the hold. “ t shall we do?” asked Alice, shrinking in- atinctively from the coming gleam “Wish Dick would h up,” was Phil's answer. “We'll be seen sure, afore he gits it open.” The revolving light came nearer and nearer in its 7) round the circle of the hold. ““Mought keep ahead of it if it weren’t fur bein’ heard,” muttered Phil. ‘‘Ha! come this way, Miss Alice!” He bad just caught a glimpse of a possible co- vert. Taking her hand he led her quickly but noise- pecs to the side of the ship, where lay a heap of old eable. Crouching down behind this, they were covered from sight of the mate. In a minute more the light passed slowly over them, its intense Beem re- vealing every portion of that section of the hold, but thro the space in which they crouched into deeper darkness. It moved over their heads and slowly traversed aft along the deck. The two fugitives emerged from their concealment and approached the ladder. At the same instant a sliding sound was heard, and the grating moved quickly back, Dick’s head appearing at the o ning. “Up the ladder, Miss Alice! Quick as lightning! It’s your only chance!”’ cried Dick, in excited tones. The noise had attracted the attention of the mate. He threw the light of the lantern upon the fugitives. They stood, too, ina circle of daylight entering at the open hatch. The foot of Alice was alreadyupon the ladder. The mate dropped his lantern a ran hastily toward them, with a fierce imprecation. “Quick!” cried Phil, excitedly. lending Alice his assistance. ‘ Give her your hand, Dick! Dick obeyed, and the trembling fugitive was rap- idly drawn up the steps. hil was about to run up the ladder with the nim- bleness of a squirrel, when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, and turned to looked in a pair of re- vengeful eyes. ‘** Shoot the hatch, Dick!” he shouted. ‘* Thunder’s broke loose here!"’ Dick at once obeyed. The hatch slid to its place. The devoted lad was left in the power of his furious foe. CHAPTER XXII. FOR LIFE OR DEATH. “T wit be even with you anyhow, you meddling young imp!’’ the mate savagely cried, as he attempt ed to jerk Phil duwn from the ladder. But this was not so easily done. The bo gluve desperately to the rounds, and tug as the infuriat man might he could not loosen his hold. 4 “T’ll settle you, you wharf rat!’’ came in a furious growl from the lips of the mate. Releasing his grasp of Phil’s arm with his right hand, but still holding his shoulder with his left, he struck a fierce blow at the hpy’s head. It would have been bad for Phil had that blow reached him, for the mate wasamanof great muscular power, and put all his strength into the blow. * But a man cannot use all his strength in two direc- tions. The grasp of his left hand naturally relaxed, as he put his My into the right. In an instant Phil darted down the ladder, jerking himself clear from the loosened hold, and the mate’s fist came in contact with hard wood instead of soft flesh, with a vim that was in no wise agreeable to his knuckles. A mocking laugh broke from the boy’s lips as he darted arey with the speed of a hare. The mate in- stantly followed with a loud imprecation. A hard eaeee began, round and round the interior of the ho. Phil’s object was to reach the ladder, and escape to the upper deck, But his foe divined this, and ~— m so closely that he had no opportunity to 80, The mate was a fast runner, and it was as much as Phil could do to keep out of his clutches. The dark- ness of the hold favored the fugitive, and he made many a quick double and turn, as the chase continu- ed three or four times round the circuit of the hold. At his last turn Phil made straight for the ladder. But his pursuer was not three feet behind him, a low curse breaking from his set lips at every few steps. Phil stooped as he passed, and snatched up the overturned jucket. Looking back over his shoulder, he dashed this impromptu weapon behind him, at the ankles of his an nist. is aim was a true one. The mate stumbled and pitched heavily for- ward over the obstruction. Phil’s next move was quick as lightning, He turn- ed and darted up the ladder, reaching the top of it by the time his foe had regained his feet. Phil lay on the deck above, looking down through the hatchway, and breaking into a tantalizin 7 at his discomfited foe. He had not calculated suffi- ciently on the exasperation of the mate. There was a blinding flash that lit wp the hold for an instant, a loud report, and something scored the boy’s skull as if he had been touched by a hot iron. The maddened mate had fired a pistol, point-blank, at his mocking foe, ** Guess it’s time to git,” said Phil, coolly. ‘“ Dont want to be stoppin’ ncbody’s bullets.” The mate was by this time at the foot of the lad- der, and was ascending hand over hand. Phil ran ckly forward, enteri and passing through [t room, and ote through the second door into the cabin. He closed this door with a bang, and bolted it behind him. : Phil Hardy, the Boss Boy. cabin, looking at him with astonishment. As Phil darted ne the stairs to the deck there came a push at the door he had just fastened, fol- lowed by loud knocks and fierce curses. F at once opened it, admitting the mate. ‘““Where is the boy?” cried the latter, breathing hard, and his eyes giexing around the cabin. “On deck,” said Fagan. ‘‘ What was that noise I heard? It sounded like a pistol-shor.”’ With no other answer than a harsh grow, the mate rushed forthe deck, followed quickly by his astonished confederate. The situation was an interesting one. The Strong- bow was now almost across the stream, and was rounding up to enter her dock on the Brooklyn side. A group of persons stood on the pier watching her approach, A short distance in the rear of the ship came a small, swift tug-boat, heading for the same wharf. On her deck was visible the form of Harvey Russell age by several other persons. Amidships of the Strongbow stood Phil, breathing hard from his late exertions, and facing the captain, who shrunk back in nervous fright from what he was still half disposed to consider an apparition. Further forward stood Dick, who had just emerged from the forecastle. A group of sailors, headed oy old Ben Bowline, stood near him, looking on wit intense interest. ‘A feller ——_ think you weren't much used to ghosts,” said Phil, jeeringly, to the captain. ** Maybe you'd like to feel me to see if I’m solid or not.” “T would!” cried the mate, who had approached the boy from behind, and who now grasped his shoulder. ‘I’ve got you, you young burglar, and if I don’t make you sweat, shoot me! **Give me a hand here, Fagan,” he continued, in a voice intended for the ears of the sailors, ‘I caught the little devil trying to go through our lockers. T'll truss him up and give him a baker’s dozen with a cowhide to teach him better habits.” Nothing loth, Fagan came forward to his assistance. But they did not know the capabilities of a full- fledged wharf rat. With a quick stoop and a squirm of the body which seemed as if it could only have come from long ractice, Phil rewtk ps like an eel out of his coat, ae the latter ilapidated garment in the mate’s ands. Wild with anger, Hendricks sprung forward to seize him again. But he encountered another un- expected obstacle in the form of Dirty Dick, who stepped with apparent awkwardness in the way. oy and man went down in a heap together. While the infuriaied mate was striving to regain his feet, Dick nimbly crept out, and ran forward to safer quarters. But there was no second foe in Hendricks’s mind. He looked round for Phil, and saw, to his surprise, that, the boy was half-way up the shrouds, climbing like a cat to the mast-head. ‘ “Come down!"’ was the fierce command. “Come down! or I'll bring you down a dead weight!” And he pasiconty grasped his pistol. Phil’s reply was a taunting er He had caught sight of the Sopronchens tug, and ran out nimbly on the yard-arm for a clearer view. There was considerable excitement on the deck of the ship.” Ben Bowline had instinctively started for- ward on seeing the mate’s significant gesture. It wad buta step, however. The involuntary sense of obedience of a sailor to his officer restrained him. Capen Monroe stood with his eyes fixed on Phil, perched on the extremity of the main yard-arm. A visible tremor shook the frame of the nervously- organized villain, He could scarcely yet believe the boy to be living flesh and blood. Xt the opening of the deck leading to the men’s quarters appeared a fair young face, unnoticed by any of the deeply-interested spectators. It was the face of Alice Homer, her eyes wide with fright as she realized the situation. " ** Hillo! there!” Ba Phil, hailing the tug, on which he recognized a familiar face, “ Pile on m and run aboard this rotten old tub! Do you hear Mr. Russell? Your girl’s here, among a pack of bloody murderers.” ‘Come down! or I'll bring you down!” screamed the furious mate, with extended pistol. “You dry up,’’ was Phil’s defiant answer. The mate was far past the bounds of reason. Heedless of a warning cry from the wharf, now very near,or of a thrilling scream from the deck permnd him, he took steady aim and fired at the reck- less boy. The lookers-on thought they saw a quick shudder pass through Phil’s frame. ith a leap that seemed convulsive he sprung a igs ay out from his perch, and cleft the air swiftly in his downward fall. A ee fra horror arose. Even if only wounded b the ball it looked as if he must strike the deck in descent and be crushed out of all human shape. But, Phil’s lucky star stood by him. e€ came down like a shot, coiled up into a ball-like sha and just grazing the bulwarks in his fall. As he aid so his frame shot out straight as au arrow, his feet striking the water first. In an instant he was lost to view, beneath the liquid plain. The scream heard had come from the pallid lips of Alice Homer, who sprung recklessly towne t he mate, with the wild hope of diverting the villain from his aim. She caught his arm, but too late to prevent the shot, and stood ng with a) ed eyes at the fearful descent o the. boy from his aerial perch. ‘*Good heavens! you have killed !” she screamed, running to the side of the vessel, and looking fearfully over. “Hal my pretty mad lady!” cried the mate, his | He turned again to encounter the tall, brawny / mind diverted to a now object. figure of Tim Fagan, who stood in the middle of the | your cell? ‘This will never do.” 17 * So you aro out of He sprung forward and seized her by the arm, “Here, Captain Monroe!’ he continued. “ Hel me with her. She will be in one of her frantic spells in a minute, and then ten men could not hold her." The eyes of Alice were turned upward in wonder and Ao an at this bold effort to convert her into a maniac. “She is no madder than I am,” screamed Dirty Dick, rushing recklessly toward them. But a back-handed movement of Tim Fagan’s arm stretched this puny rescuer spiawling upon the Page - the brawny innkeeper hurried to the aid of e mate. “‘Keep back, men!” cried Captain Monroe to the sailors, who showed an inclination to interfere. “The girl is mad, I tell you. We were bringing her to an asylum. She has broken from her room.’ “Is the boy mad, too?’’ sternly responded Ben Bowline, who had hastened to the side of the vessel to look for the form of Phil. But the water yot hid the fallen youth from view. “Some of you men get a carriage, at once,” cried a commanding voice from the wharf, which the ves- sel was now nearly grazing. .“ It was the handsome face and elegantly-dressed figure of Andrew Cun- ningham, his smooth cheek marked by more than one scratch from the broom of Mrs. Hardy. Alice looked appealingly to the sailors. But the shrunk back, evidently believing her indeed mac and not caring to interfere, 4 Will no one help me?” she asked, in a tremulous voice. Cunningham stepped briskly forward, “Come, come, my dear miss,” he said in a sooth- ing tone, “you are among friends. Now do be calm. We are going to take you to a very pleasant home.” She looked up with a faint ery of terror on seein the face of her ruthless foe so near her, and shrun tremblingly back from the pons touch of his hand, her face growing deathly white. - borne as'the incidents had passed, two or threo minutes. had parsed. And yet, the vigilant eyes of Ben Bowline had seen no trace of Phil. The face of the old man grew dark with anger as he realized tltat the boy was either drowned, or slain by tha bullet of the murderer, He straightened up his tall form, his eyes fixed meaningly on the mate. At the same moment tho pursuing tug came alongside; Harvey Russell Bonding erect, white, and stern as a fate, upon her eck, CHAPTER XXTIL HARVEY RUSSELL TAKES A HAND. Harvey Russex~. had not been inactive on the morning of the day so full of stirring incidents. His first visit had been to the police authorities, whom he had notified of the abduction, and of bis discoveries concerning it, There were three officers accom nying him when he left and proceeded towar © wharf where lay the Strongbow. First, however, he went to 810 Globe street, the directions of Phil's residence as he had received them from that individual. He wished to see where a aid was, and to form his own plans ac- cordingly. On ascending the stairs he met a bright-eyed little git, whom he stopped to question ae ‘A to the ocality of the rooms which Phil H. honored with his residence, “Why, just ahead, sir. That door at the end of the passage. - That is Mrs. Hardy you see inside the room.’ «But it is oy ef ee I want to find.” “Her son!’ crie reaking into a me laugh. “Why, Philis her'grandson’ she 4s ful old, you know, and he is a little fellow; not much bigger than me.” ‘“‘T shall find him in there then?” asked Mr. Rus- sell, advancing. “Oh dear no, sir! He went out more than an eo Excuse mé, but are you not Mr, Rus- se wore, could you know that?” hil told me all about you. How you were in love with Miss Alice, and all. You see, dont a anything at all from me.” 5 “It seems not,” replied Mr. Russell, with a laugh and slight] pee: ** And he dont Kee anythin from me either, for he told me about a little swee pea of his, who waS ever so much in love with im. ‘Now he had better have held his tongue,” said Susy, coloring. “ Did he tell you her namer nts he said it was Susy—Susy Lane, I think.” “He told you a story, then, for I dont love him one bit,” exe ed the piqued little beauty. “Not much, I mean,”’ she corrected herself. ‘And I dont like him to be going around telling everybody he meets such ey mma i : “But maybe you do not consider it properly,”’ sug- ested Mr. Russell, with an pins ae wae ‘at his te auditor. ‘Why, how do you mean, sir?” “Dont you see that it only shows that Phil is al- ways thinking of you? And. he loves you so that he thinks it must be you loving him.” ‘“Why so I do, a little! she sg 70, 4 exclaimed. *‘ Phil is ever so nice.—Oh, Mrs. Hardy, here is a gen- tleman looking for Phil.” : The old lady had just left her room, and stood in the e near them. nal am sorry, sir, but my boy is out,” she said, cour- “So T have just heard from this young lady.” ie R " ice, “introducing. “This is 4 ussell,”” said Ali lt ts tet st
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18 Phil Hardy, the Boss Boy. — *The gentleman Puil spoke of, he neil was sweet on Miss Alice.” Mr. Russell was on the point of answering; a little you know. . The one | | A fierce light shot from Cunningham's eyes, such as might come from the eyes of a tiger at the mo- ment of springing. In an instant he a pistol in impatiently, as it seemed. Then he paused and aimed point-blank at his foe, laughed. “This tor you, ey Russell,” he said, with con- “You shouldn’t speak that way before the gentle- | centrated fury. man, Susy,” expostulated Mrs. Hardy. “‘ But lam sure But Russell was in no mood to.stand and be shot Miss Alice was worth loving, for she was the sweet- est, loveliest, prettiest, charmingest creature that my old eyes ever looked on, and I have seen beauties in my time. I know I was in love with her myself, and I dont blame anybody else.” Mr. Russell listened with all a lover’s pleasure to this warm praisé. He would not have cared had the old lady gone on for an hour in the same vein. “She is an old friend of mine,” he explained. * And perhaps I do like her a little. But I am afraid - friend Phil has drawn a good deal on his imagin- ation.” “I dont believe he has,” said Susy, looking him squarely in the eyes. ‘‘AndIdont think you ought to be ashamed if you were a dozen times in love with such a lady.”’ Susy’s tone was a little indignant. ‘ “Yet somebody I know was angry with Phil just now, for talking about her.” “Oh! that was different,” responded Susy, quickly. une keeps talking that way, and he knows I dont ce t,* ‘* Why you shouldn’t be ashamed to be in love with such a fine fellow as Phil.” “T aint ashamed, either,’’ she replied, turning on her heel irately, and walking away. It was with a merry laugh that Mr. Russell excused himself to Mrs. Hardy, and went down to find his companions, They were waiting somewhat impatiently, and hastened Mr. Russell in their walk to the whaitf. “You would be much too dilatory for a police- man,” said the chief of the officers. ‘‘ Every minute counts in our business.” “I doubt if I was intended b of trade,” replied Mr. Russell, pleasantly. ‘‘ Ah! here we are now. ** And there goes our prize,” responded the officer, pointing to the ship which was half-way across the yiver. “We are just the ten minutes late which you wasted in that tenement-house.” “ Are you Mr. Russell?” asked a boy on the wharf. “This gentleman is,’’ replied the officer. “What do you wish, my lad?’ Mr. Russell in- nature for that line be I was just told to tell you that the Strongbow was bound to Longmyer’s wharf, in Brooklyn,’’ “ And where is that?” ‘Oh! that wont need a directory,’’ said the officer, “We must cross at once.”’ ‘“*By what ferry?” “ By one of our own. As matters stand aboard that vessel, ten minutes may be all-important. There is a tug, under the control of the police, at the next wharf but one. If it is ready for service we will pursue the fugitives.” The boat was found prepered and in a very few minutes they were upon the river, heading, under full steam, for the ship. But by this time the Strongbow had achieved two- thirds of her journey and was round her dock ere the rap d tug had got wit distance. it was now evident that the officer's views as to the value of time in police business were w founded. For before their eyes was enacted the tragical occurrence of the murderous shot at Phil Hardy, and his headlong fall into the stream. : But, Harvey Russell had eyes only for another in- cident. He had caught a glimpse of the brown locks and delicate face of Alice Homer, just rising above the level of the bulwarks. He was a horror-stricken spectator of her impul- sive movement, and his heart throbbed strongly ‘ with indignation when the polluting hands of the murderous gang were laid on her for whose little <— he would have bartered his life, et no word came from his white, set lips; no trace of emotion save a fierce impatience marked his impressive face. ‘‘Haste! Haste!’ he helt. whigpered, turning his head back. ‘ Put on all steam! is precious!” ) a A to leap forward in response to his wishes. He stood on her bow, his eyes glaring, his foot advanced, in readiness. to leap. And now the stern of the ship swung slowly round just as the tug came up. ,Not six feet separated them. One fierce spring and the lithe figure of the avenging lover had caught the bulwarks of the Strongbow, and swung himself on deck. Yet the main actors in the scene of villainy being perpetrated there were so intent upon their work as to be quité unaware of his approac “She must go with me,” said Cunningham, looking at Alice with assumed kindness. ‘No one need fear but that the unfortunate lady will be kindly treat- He sought to tale her arm, but she shrunk trem- blingly back, her éyes wildly wandering in search of aid -to to enter easy hail- very second now They lit up with a sudden joy as they caught sight of an approaching form, of a well-remembered face. “Release her, villain!’ cried a voice that was hoarse with intense emotion. “Dare not, for your life, put that false hand on one so innocent and pure as she!’’ Wha “Ha! reniihe fellow is this?” asked Cun- ing and confronting the t satirically, po pte man. “Tam Harvey Russell. traced your your face as @ robber and murderer!” 2 f I 1 h all th ell taken him be I Phil ; } | | at. The acts of the next few moments were so rapid that the lookers-on could scarcely follow them. Springing forward with a quick leap, in an instant he had grappled with his enemy. There was the trip of a wrestler, a strong upward heave, a step forward, and Andrew ningham was hurled over the side of the ship. as easily as if he had been a child. He struck the water with a loud splash, sinking like a stone from sight. But the pistol-shot which he had intended for Harvey Russell was not without its victim. He had thrown up his arm at the moment of falling, and pulled the trigger, with a wild attempt at aim. A loud cry o aati followed, and the fall of a heavy body to the deck. He had shot his own confederate, Hendricks, the mate. “Stone dead,’ said one of the officers, who was now aboard. ‘“ He has got it through the brain.” The other two villains started involuntarily back, releasing Alice, who rushed excitedly to her lover. “Oh, Harvey!’’ she cried, clinging wildly to him. “Save me! Saye me from these men!” “Do not fear, Alice,’ was his warm reply. ‘‘ There is no man of them all dare lay hands on you now. You are safe.”’ “Will he be drowned?’ she asked, falteringly, as the head of Cunningham appeared again above the water. ‘Drowned? No. His sins will float him.’ The drenched villain was caught by hands from on board the tug, and hauled vigorously out of the water. He was a pitiable object, with all the elegance wasbed out of him by the streaming fluid. ‘Hold there!’ cried one of the officers, as he ee vigorously forward, ‘“‘ Youare my prisoner.”’ ‘* Your prisoner?” replied the enraged villain. ** On what charge?”’ “On charges enough. Abduction, false imprison- ment, and a double attempt at murder. If that is not enough, there is the murder of the man whom you have just shot.”’ “Harvey Russell?” asked Cunningham, a quick light of Joy in his eyes. ‘No. Itis Mr. Hendricks, the mate of the Strong- how, who has fallen a victim to your murderous esigns,’ CHAPTER XXIV. HOME AGAIN. Tue tables were completely turned on the would- be murderers, One of them lay dead, cut off with- out a moment’s warning by what seemed the direct- ing hand of Providence. e three others were in the hands of the officers, the captain and his brawny confederate overwhelm- ed si this sudden and unlooked-for ending of their plots. As for their employer, Cunningham, he was a miserable-looking object, dripping with water, and wit e starch washed, not only out of his clothes, but out of his whole nature. He seemed thoroughly cowed by the retribution which had over- en i Mr. Russell and Alice stood somewhat apart from the others, her hand in his, eager words passing between them. Suddenly she started. She had heard Dick pro- nounce pret 4 the name of “ Phil.” “ Oh! how neglectful of us all!’ she cried. ‘Can it be possible he is drowned? Oh, gentlemen, do try and save him! It may not be too late! He may wimming!” 8 “T rather guess not,” said Fagan, with a look of brutal triumph. ‘ He’s got a bullet through his ribs. He's paid for his fun, anyhow.” “T am afraid the ain is right,” Mr. Russell vely remarked. ‘I saw the shot and am sure e was struck.” ‘But he may not have been killed!’’ exclaimed Dick, eagerly. ‘‘ Might as well try to killa cat as Fe Hardy. Aint water enough here to drown ‘m,”? “T hope so, fervently,” Alice, as she looked with frightened eyes over the vessel’s side. Where are you, Phil? Come, lad, turn up. Dont let them say they made v~u step out!’* cried Dick, in a tone of earnest ar “one the feeling heart of | eee “Ahoy!” shouted old Bowline, excited.by Dick’s | eall. ‘* Thats the talk! Ahoy, lad! Tumble up for rations! Dont let Davy Jones rope you in.” “You can hail till you’re blue,” was Fagan’s brutal rejoinder. ‘‘That wharf rat has gnawed his last_hole.”’ “Beta fip you’re a-lying,” came a familiar voice from the direction of the vessel’s bow. ‘‘Maybe spose it’s in ke to lay out Phil Hardy like I'd y out a crab; but I dont spose itis. If Tim —— dont kick the bucket from an overdose of rope afore I peg out from lead or salt water, why jist call me a liar, that’s all.” Ere this speech was half through Dick had een vent toa regular Indian yell, and was darting like an arrow for the bowsprit of the vessel. All eyes were turned in the same direction, and there, on the very extremity of the spar, was perched the diminutive form of Phil Hardy, streaming with IT am he that has for years | water, but as bold and saucy-looking as ever boy’s nous schemes. I now brand you to | face was capable of. “ It’s me—Phil!”’ he shouted, ‘‘Good to take the starch out of a dozen sich outrageous gangs as this. —You kin take hold of me; Dick. I’m all here.— And Pg reg lar first-class hoss!”’ Old Bow4Sne caught the two boys in his arms.as they came in from the bowsprit, giving them a hug which seemed as if it would have crushed the ribs of an elephant. La ~ bi I aint, hurting you,” he apologetically re marked. ‘*Maybe you’ve got a bullet-hole through you, and it mayn’t be healthy to be squeezed.” “Dont b’lieveit would he healthy to be hugged by pane a feller had white-oak muscles, and nary a othole in them,” answered Phil, rubbing his sides atin ““Wouldn’t like to be the gal you was.in ove with,” ‘* But are you hurt, Phil?” asked Mr. Russell; press- ing anxiously forward, ‘‘I was sure his bullet struck you.” “Tt plowed alittle openin’ in my left arm,” said Phil, carelessly. “ Nothin’ to hurt, though. Only a musketo bite.” Alice gave a cry of. alarm at this information, and hastily pulled up the lad’s loose sleeve. The sleeve was full of blood, from a wound which seemed to run from the wrist to the elbow, “Poor fellow, he is badly hurt!’ she pathetically remarked. Taking her handkerchief she wrapped it dexter- ously round the boy’s arm. 3 i for a doctor, Mr, Russell!” she cried. ‘‘ He is badly wounded! See how he has bled!” “T wont have no doctor but you,” said Phil, sturdily. “So ‘taint no use botherin’ them. ‘his hankercher will be all the medicine 7'/! want.” “It is only a scratch,” remarked old Bowline, ina reassuring tone. “That's all. It’s only cut the skin, and plowed an inch or two under,” Phil coolly declared. ‘Guess that aint worth goin’ on about.’ The tugboat had proceeded with her operations through all this startling episode, and had hauled the Strongbow up to her new wharf, against which she quietly lay. The parties on the wharf, full of excitement at the scene they had witnessed, swarmed on board, asking a thousand questions, and managing remarkably well at getting in everybody’s way. “If there ever was a p:rcel of folks without the common sense that human critters cught to be born with, it’s a set of land-lubbers,”’ growled old Bow- line. “Ahoy there! Clear ship! and give the lads a chance to rope her in.” “Guess old salt water will have his hands full to t rid of that crowd,” said Dick. ‘But stir up, hil. You haven't told us yit how you got clear from drownding.” “Drown me’ replied Phil, with a sniff of con- ee “ Dont spose I could be drownded in a duck- pond like the Eastriver? I aint one of them gort.” “But you sunk under the water and failed to come up again,’ said Mr. Russell. know how you escaped.” An eager throng had gathered around to hear Phil’s answer, for there were more than Mr. Russell curious about the matter. “Didn't spose I was goin’ to pop my head upin the same place to draw another bullet, did you?” asked Phil, somewhat Ferme et oe . “TI aint that kind of chap. Got two bullet-marks now, one in the arm and tother in the head. That’s enough rlory fur one day.” The pitying eyes of Alice were turned to the boy's head, where a red line showed itself through the matted hair. His plunge overboard had washed it clean, but the bl was slowly oozing again. “He must have a doctor! At once!” cried Alice, anxiously. ‘*He may be dangerously wounded!” ‘“*What? that?’ asked Phil carelessly. ‘That's only a pin scratch. That’s arter I got you up into the second story of the ship. He chased me and fired pistols at me, jist as if I was a rat.—I flung him tho 'gh, neat enough.” ‘hut, you have not told us yet how you escaped from your fall,’ remarked one of the curious by- standers. ei, _— was easy enough,” Phil Meron “4 coined. ‘I weren't goin’ to pop up pop ts) ie mought take better aim next time. $0 I jist took a little divé and a swim under water, and come - tother side the ship. Then I hauled myself along, hand over hand, till I come to the bow, where thar was a handy rope hangin’. I went up that rope jist like a cat shins up a tree, and ’stablished myself on the bowspirt.—And here’s me now, sound in wind and pocket.” Phil walked loftily away through the throng, as if contemning them too much to be made the target of any more of their questions. ° The officers meanwhile had been busy in remoy- ing their prisoners to the police tug. The dead body of Hendricks was taken on board, a with the living villains. One of the officers was left inj temporary charge of the ship, and particularly of the effects of the captain and mate, Mr. Russell had declined going with them in their boat. He did not quite like the notoriety of such a‘ paces He and Alice, accompanied by the two oys, sought the nearest ferry. On the way, however, Alice insisted on stopping at a physician’s, and having Phil’s wounds ex- amined. They were pronounced in no respect dan- erous, though he would have a painful arm for a ew weeks. ‘* Guess I kin stand it,’’? announced Phil, as he sub- mitted to the bandaging. “I’m goin’ to keep this hankercher, Miss Alice, I ain’t got notin’ of yourn, ou know. And I want somethin’ to remember you Xi What? an old blood-stained handkerchief? No indeed! I shal) give you something of more value.” “T am curious to
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ht goods, and said nO tter some consideration it was decided that she should stay temporarily with Mrs. Hardy, while Mr. Russell hunted up her aunt, and apprised her of these occurrences. . The old lady was proud and glad enough when she saw her former visitor return, and Susy danced around her with the lightness and joy of a fairy, “To think of your being so kind as to come here!”’ Mrs. Hardy exclaimed, with tears in her eyes. “Why, of course I am too glad to have her,” she continued to Mr. Russell. ‘‘And thank you kindly for bringing her.” “And do tell us the whole story,” cried Susy, dancing still in her excitement. ‘‘We only know a little bit of it.” : “The rest aint worth telling,” muttered Phil, sourly. es Dont you swallow that, Susy,” responded Dick. ‘*Phil’s just the boss boy out, that’s all.” “YT will tell you what 7know of it,” said Alice. She proceeded to do so, Phil nervously crossing and uncrossing his legs and twisting his arms, and looking as sour in the face as if he had been given a disagreeable dose of medicine. . He could not help striking in, however, with an occasional emendation of her account, and a piec- ing-out of the parts of which she was not cognizant, though sternly deprecating that he had done any- thing more than any boy might do “if he’d been fixed just like him.” * And been built like you Yet Phil could not help ized. light, while Susy seemed wild with joy in her boy, as she called him. ‘**And you, too, Dick,’’ she cried. his face isn’t asclean as a new penny. I'll have to kiss you too, if only to thank you for having such a ee washed iss Alice? “Oh! they are just having a private talk in the next room,” said Mrs. Hardy, witha meaning look. “Going over some matters of business, I suppose,” ” said Dick. : himself from being lion- CHAPTER XXV. ALICE HOMER’S STORY. Turre was a happy party gatheredin Mrs, Hardy’s | combination-apartment, serving, as it did, the triple urpose of kitchen, dining-room, and parlor. It was Phe day succeeding that which had been so full of exciting events, and all our friends were there, Phil and his crony, Dick; Mrs. Hardy and Susy; Altice and Mr. Russell. The latter had promised an explanation of the cause of the murderous persecution of Alice by the gang of villains who had been apprehended, and there was much curiosity in the minds of the others to hear his story. He had just ise in, and stood leaning gracefully on the back of a chair, as he addressed Alice. “T have just seen Mrs. Corson,” he said. “She is anxious to have yoo come at once, She was per- fectly horrified to hear of what had happened.” “Tdont wonder,” broke in Mrs: Hardy, energeti- cally. “Itis enough to make any reasonable crea- ture’s hair stand on end.—But do sit down, Mr. Rus- sell, And let me have your hat.” She took it from him with scant ceremony, and with kindly vigor hustled him into a chair beside Ali ce. ‘Never = aches a = standing when it’s just to sit,’’ she € ; O86 eyuxt as live deands ay time,”’ said Phil, in an aside, “if it wasn’t on my head.”’ ‘Hush! warned Susy. ‘ You’ve got no business to be contrac ang your grandmother. She ought to better ou.”’ ieee aye she ought,” persisted Phil, ‘‘ but she dont always.”” « ps ose you are all willing to hear what I be- ewe loffered to tell you to-day,” remarked Mr. Rus- ‘ seul. “Yes; willin’ in the way a feller’s willin’ to eat his supper ‘after he’s got cheated out of his dinner,” se keep quiet,”’ admonished Dick, in an under- Max, ont Tet the old folks do the talking.” “You dunno how it is,” answered Phil, in the ne. ‘My tongue gits loose sometimes, and it's. cist the hardest thing a-goin’ to nail it down, Got to let off the exhaust steam, you know,” “ mn as my friend Phil gets through with his privare sonvertatlon I am ready to proceed,” re- tarked Mr. Russell, with a comical look. “Oh! I’m done. Dried up. Shut tighter thana clam,” eried Phil. ‘* Dont b’lieve you could pull an- other word out of me with a fish hook. There was a slight laugh, as much at his tone as his words, and Mr. Russell proceeded: mn “Miss Homer is an American by birt 2 he said, “though she has spent all the latter portion of her jife in England, Her pareuts removed there when she was—how ge ee ; x “You should know,” she replied. ‘‘ You and I then were about as close friends as Phil and are now. Susy blushed, and moved her chair back a slight space from Phil's. 2 “* Well, about twelve, or some such venerable age, continued Mr. Russell. ‘There was some unpleas- aut feeling in the family at the time, which was the rincipal cause of e Rien was always g cross- ed, eccentric fellow, Alice. quarrel His grandmother was enthusiastic in her de- | i declare: if | face And—where’s Mr. Russell and | The only way to get along with him was to Phil, in an “oe ‘makin Audvew Cunningham as being the cause of the quar- , rel which separated us. “Tthink there can be no question of that,” re- sponded Mr, Russell. ‘“‘ He has always been a hidden nt, and he is perteony. ruthless to any person or thing which stands in his way.” “Anyhow he’s got his rations now,” remarked undertone. e@ bore the same relationship to Allen Mercer as did Miss Homer,” continued Mr, Russell. ‘The old man was rich, and was getting feeble. It wasa shrewd trick to drive away his proud competitor, for Mr. Homer was quick and haughty in temper, and would have lost an inheritance any time rather than submit to insult. After his departure Cunning- ham tried, and succeeded somewhat, in getting the old man under his own influence,” ‘What a villain he must have been!’? murmured Mrs. Hardy. “* He was always that,” replied Mr. Russell, ‘‘One of your smooth, wily villains, who. usually manage to hide their hands in their rascally schemes. I dis- trusted him, boy as 1 was, and blamed him for driv- ing Alice across the ocean, and forcing us to the poor comfort of letter-writing ” “Aint you never seen her since?’ asked Phil. “You knowed one another at sight, aboard the Strongbow.” ‘*Oh! he has been across the ocean tosee me,”’ ex- plained Alice, with a slight blush, “TI lost both my parents within a hg or twopast. Mr. Russell came Over, as soon ashe heard of my bereavement. He was ever so kind tome, I shall never forget his ten- derness.”’ There was asad tone in her voice, but her eyes were fixed on the face of her lover with a look of un- bounded faith and trustfulness. “Thought it was queer how you kept up your 2 amas across so much salt water,” muttered hil. ** Hush, Phil!” Susy admonishingly whispered. “T am quite ashamed of you.” “* Bet if it was you, Susy, I’d cross the duck-pond, too,”’ Phil energetically returned. “T wish you young fry would quit chattering there in the corner,” exclaimed Mrs. Hardy. *‘‘ Mr. Russell cant go on for you.” ¥ Oh! I guess so,” replied that gentleman. “ Let them talk if they wish. To proceed with my story: —about six months ago Mr, Mercer died. en bis will came to be read it proved that the eccentric old man had been less under the influence of Andrew Cunningham than that individual ine For it was found that he had left the bulk of his property to his orphan niece, Alice Homer. The fact of her having lost her parents probably had something to | do with softening the heart of her uncle toward her.” How came Cunningham then to have any claim?” asked Mrs. Hardy. “Through a codicil to the will. Alice grieved much over the loss of her parents, and was very ill for a long time. Fearing she might die and leave no heir 3 his estate, Mr. Mercer had appended this codicil, ea the event of her'dying unmarried, That is secret of the villain’s murderous schemes.” “Taint too late for him yet then,’ remarked Phil, with a meaning glance. ‘Tt shall ‘be soon—that is if Alice consents,” said Mr. Russell, with a look of the deepest love in his e whole eyes. wey snppons IT must do something for personal safet ,»” she blushingly replied. urrah! for our side!’’ cried Phil, flinging up his cap enthusiastically. ‘‘Spose you're goin’ to give us all an invite to the weddin’. I invite or no.” ‘*Hold your tongue, Phil,” replied Mrs. Hardy se- verely. ‘“‘I never saw anybody so ridiculous.” “*FWraid Iwas born a little ridick'lous,’’ returned Phil. “It seems q kind of nat’ral dispersition.” “Now wont you hush?” asked Susy, pinning her hand very sternly over his mouth. “You will be ae r. Russell and Miss Alice think you are "Let him have his j ing. ‘* Weare too old lovers to mind it. And if I am any judge of signs our turn will come yet,” to speak.” She seated herself in the corner, as far away from her young sweetheart as possible. ‘*T think Alice will have to tell the rest,” added Mr. Russell, with an amused Jook at the young folks, ““T amas anxious as yourselves to know her ad- ventures. "’ “IT was expecting, you know, to come tc America shortly,” she responded. ‘In fact, I was waiting rincipally for instructions from you. Atthis june- ure I received a note stating that you had found it advisable to cross to Liverpool, and had just ar- rived, but were too sick to leave the ship, and re- questing me to come to you. Of course you had not written it, but in my haste and excitement I failed to notice that it was only a clever imitation of Po handwriting. The bearer had @ carriage a e door, and I hastened to accompany him to the z vA most villainous plot!” broke in Mr. Russell, otly. “tt roved so, indeed,” continued Alice. ‘In the cabin I found only the captain and mate. Before I even an. wrong they had me secure- They next gagged me so that I could her inheritance to Andrew Cunningham in | oke,” said Mr. Russell, laugh- | 419 | not utter a sound, and locked me in one of the state. } | ’m goin’ anyhow, | eee | the bride. | | } / | rooms, ‘* Didn't none of the sailors know you were there?” asked Phil. i. “No, It was dusk when I was on board - and I observed none of them on deck. may have been removed urnosely. “No doubt of it. ‘Their scheme was well laid,” ex- claimed Mr. Russell. - “My next few hours were full of the deepest men- tal and physical agony,” continued Alice. ‘ When 3 bonds were removed we were far out of sight of land. Ineed not dilate on the long and di voyage, which was one unceasing agony.tome. Yet I suffered nothing at the hands of the villains be- yond the pain of confinement, and flerce threats of personal injury if I showld make any effort to attract attention. Otherwise I was well cared for,” “Tim e that fear of discovery by the sailors revented them from attempting to you ou he open sea,” remarked Mr. Russell. “Very probably. My great source of suffering was distrust and doubt as to their object. I early suspected Mr. Cunningham's connection with m abduction, but they would admit erga c) ¥Ansae A r into ating. My life believe, is all I have to tell, I remembe: a deep lethargy one evening after e was a blank from that moment until I found melt on the point of being hurled into the water.—Whas has happened since I think I can best leaye my brave you: g friend to relate.” She turned to. Phil with a winning smile that went straight to his heart, ; Our hero, nothing loth, proceeded to describe his part in the affair, dilating considerably as he a events with which the reader is already convers- ant. Dick helped his modesty over some difficult passa- Bes and he was looked on as quite a lion by the tine e had finished. : “*T declare I never knowed thé half of what was oing on,” cried his grandmother, affectionately em- rac ng him. ‘*T did, then,” said S . “T knew my Phil was the bravest fellow alive.” ‘4 And she too had her em- ‘“What can we ever do to reward you?” asked Alice and Mr. Russell together. ‘““Guv me an invite to that weddin’. I guess that will answer,” replied Phil. ‘And if ever me and Susy gits spliced, we wont forgit to return the com- pliment,” | brace, CHAPTER XXVI, FINALE. Pat, got his invitation to the wed . Nor did he have one to wait, Mr. Russell and Alice had been declared lovers too se to desire much delay in the ; corennnaas and her position as a visitor in the family of a relative who was almost a stranger was not one which she wished to continue. a Of course there was that inevitable“ getting ready,” that instinctive desire to.shine for once in a woman's life, that always sets in operation a busy dressmak ing manufactory. And Alice literally had nothing to wear. All her effects were in Liv 1, where her friends had been in a state of terror at her unaccountable disa pearance, and vainly made every effort to dip. cover her. It was necessary to write and explain what had happened, and to have her clothes and other posscs- sions sent over by steamer. ; ie But the days of waiting which stretch out so inter- minably to lovers, and slip so ngibly by to the reat ga d, Se en ae gue i a 1ere were other PAaratio; des those Mr. Russell had not tonmzotten ile romise of an invitation to his young friends, and ‘to make them presen . Phil blossomed to a real agen! in his “*; and “Tf we aint jist yp eae there’s no use talk- in’,”’ declared Phil, twisting himself so as to see the wholes of bis figure in a diminutive mirr ing the others round for observation, -goods dummies. ‘Bet folks “Dont be vain, Phil,” replied Mrs, Hardy, etting adiminiains! . “There wont a soul look at among all Hf fine folks.—And I heartily wish vv wont, “Them that lives the longest will see the most,” was Phil’s sententious response, Phi!’s opinion proved to be the correct one. Many an eye observed them with curious interest as they 8 V's entered the church at a rather late hour, Su bright face being the main attraction. But Ph self-possessed end handsome countenance, and the shy embarrassment of Dick, were not without their admirers. : The wdding was very simply conducted, a little to the disappointment of our youny friends, who had expected to see a sort of Arabian Nights’ knter- Site aumgibod the brid et everybody remarked that the le Was per- fectly beautiful in her floating, white, and with the look of perfect happiness and trustfulness on her fresh young face. And as for Mr, Ruseeil, ‘there was no denying that he was a handsome man, and that he was deeply in love with the bride it
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20 Phil Hardy, the Boss Boy. needed but a glance into his warm and earnest face to decide. “ If they aint goin’ to be happy folks it'll be ’cause the sun will quit shinin’,” remarked Phil. ‘It’s jist as pretty as a pictur. And only look at their eyes! I dont b’lieve there’s nothin’ in the world they hold *cept one another.” ““Thope they will let me shake hands with them,” said Susy, timidly, as the happ couple came down ai a amid ‘the congratulations of numerous ends. Susy’s wish was gratified, for they stopped and shook hands warmly with the whole party, and gave them the most press invitation to attend the wedding reception at Mr. Russell’s home, where they intended to reside after a short wedding jour- ney. Mr, Russell and his bride were and the re- ception, with its glow of light, its glitter of dress, its eager buzz of congratulation, and its destruction of cake and refreshments, was well over before their attention was required at the trial of the conspir- ators, who still remained in prison. Efforts had been made to bail Mr. Cunningham out, but the charges against him were so serious and 80 well substantiated that no one could be found willing to risk a large sum of money on his probity. The Strongbow had long since sailed, with a new captain and mate, before her late captain was put in the prisoner’s dock charged with the high crimes and misdemeanors of which he had been guilty. The three prisoners were given separate trials, as the character of the evidence against them some- what differed. But the proofs of their villainy were so evident that the court felt almost like dealing with them as if they had committed the murders which they had so desperately attempted. There was the strongest: interest manifested in the exciting stories told by the boys, and confirmed in their important details by the evidence of Alice, and by the intercepted check and letters. There were minor witnesses whose testimony tend- ed to corroborate that of the principal ones, and the result of the trials was quick convictions by the jury, and severe sentences by the judge. The two principal villains, Mr. Cunningham and Captain Monroe, were sentenced each to ten years’ imprisonment, while Tim Fagan, as a less guilty accessory, received.a sentence of six years’ con- finement. There was something saddening in their demeanor as they were removed from court. Captain Mon- roe was so overcome with the retribution which had befallen him that he staggered, while his hag- gard face looked pitifully round on the assembled multitude. Fagan, on the contrary, was bold and defiant. He even laughed as he met the eyes of a friend. But his laugh had in it that nervous strain which showed that all this bravado was assumed to mask a trembling heart. ‘unningham was the only one of the three who had the merit of courage to sustain his crime. His step was steady and assured, his face resolute in its expression, yet there was a sadness in his eyes which showed that the soul of the villain was clothed in despair. And so the vail falls which shuts them out from our little world, and from the world of men for yeery and years, while they are suffering unseen a penalty which their crimes have brought upon em. As for our other characters, there was no further obstacle in the way of Alice’s falling into her inher- itance. Mr. Russell was already in comfortable circumstances, and the two fortunes in one made them wealthy. Not that they cared for the osten- tation of wealth. But they both loved beautiful things, and their house on Madison avenue became to our young friends like a palace of fairy-land, in its profusion of pictures, statuettes, and other artis- tic ee agp, For Mr. and Mrs. Russell never forgot the debt which they owed to the three young folks to whose poling. hand their. present happiness was due. Their house was always free to Phil, Dick and Susy, and m were the happy days of boy and girl life spent with these considerate friends. Nor was more substantial recognition of the in- valuable services of our youthful heroes wanting. Mrs. Hardy was enabled to move from her straigh ened quarters into apartments which gladdened her soul, both from their amplitude and their comforta- ble furniture. She blossomed, in this sun of pros- perity, into the happiest of housekeepers. Susy’s parents, too, felt. the same sun shine on them, and were enabled to remove to the more stylish neighborhood now inhabited by their old neighbor. This was thoroughly to the satisfaction of Phil and Susy, whose boy and girl affection still kept 7 But, il is not now the diminutive and vagabond- ish wharf-rat which we first knew him. He has ows into a tall, shapely youth, always neatly ressed, and his old slipshod speech corrected by the influence of several years of school life. In fact, his native quickness of apprehension is making him quite a scholar. As for Dick, he is Dirty Dick no more. Having once found out the benefits of the Turkish bath he could never be induced to go back to his old sloven- ly ways. The influence of his new wedding-suit helped to produce this effect. He had never al sessed good clothes before, and became so in love with his seprered pre as to effect a radical ebange in his whole disposition. About this time he lost his only remaining parent. and was left a homeless orphan. Mr. Russell at once took him in charge, finding him a home with the Hardys, and sending him to school in company at, so as to make them useful and creditable mem- bers of society. “T dont care much,” says Phil, in something of his old manner, ‘‘ what he does with me. I have a notion, though, that I'd like to learn to be asea-cap- tain, or some nice business of that sort.” ‘I'd ten times sooner be a farmer,’ puts in. Dick. “T dont like salt water nohow.” ““Wouldn’t one of you like to be a Governor and the other a Commodore?” asks Susy, demurely. ‘*T wouldn’t climb for anything but the top of the hill, if I were you.” “But you aint us, which I am bog glad of,” re- lies Phil, looking affectionately at the tall, bright- aced, beautiful girl, before him. “I dont think I would like you much if you were anything like Dick or me, for I cant see that there is much worth loving about us.” “That is where your eyesight fails you, Phil,” re- sponds Susy, laughing, and pressing his hand affec- tionately. “‘I wouldn’t want everybody to know how good a fellow you are.” ‘*They can know as much as they please that you are the nicest girl under the sun,” replies Phil, en- thusiastically. “‘I bet theré’s none of them who can take my little sweetheart from me, try as much as they please.” Susy’s reply was a look as if she fully indorsed Phil’s views in this respect, and loved him too dear- ly to ever turn from him, And so we must leave them, stillin the boy and girl phase of life, but growing into such ripe promise of manhood and womanhood, that their friends, the Russells, are delighted with their proteges, while Mrs. Hardy is so happy that the day is hardly long enough to contain her measure of perfect satisfac- tion. THE END. BEADLE’S Half-Dime Library. 1 Deapwoop Dick, THe PRINCE oF THE RoAp. By Edward L. Wheeler RS init ee See 2 YELLOWSTONE JACK. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 5c. 8 Kansas Kina. By Buffalo Bill..... eS oe. 4 Tae Wiip-Horse Hunrers, Mayne Reid..... Be. 5 VaGanonDd Jor. By Oll Coomes..... .. te ts ae 6 Brit Bropon, Trapper. By Edward 8. Ellis. 5c. % Tae Five YANKEE, By Col. Ingraham..... 5e. 8 Sern Jones. By Edward S. Ellis ........... 5e. 9 THE ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN.... 5c. 10 Nat Topp. By Edward §. Ellis. . ........ . Be. 11 Tae Two Detectives. By Albert W. Aiken. 5c, 19: GuiiavEen’s TRAVMIB, .~.. 2... oes. bev ceece 5e. 13 Taz Doms Spy. By Oll Comes.. ............ 5c. SA ALADDING 305000. 0's ER aa ey ae 15 Tue Sea Cat. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 5c. 16 RoBINSON CRUSOE..... ...... ... 4+. 5e. 1% Rate Roy, THe Boy Buccanzer, By Col Prentiag Inavatigins sits, 624) so 608 era et ce 5c. 18 SmypBAD THE SAILOR... .... 2.6.5... .ccscece. oe OC. 19 THe PHantoM Spy. By Buffalo Bill... ...... 5e. 20 Tae Dovsite DaaGcers. By Ed. L. Wheeler.. 5c. 21 Frontier Anaen.. By Edward 8. Ellis....... 5e 22 Tue Sea SERPENT. y Col. Juan Lewis..... Be. | 23 Nick o’ THe Nien. By Edward L. Wheeler ... ............5.. «. By Capt. F.- Whittaker... ward lL, Wheeler eee be Oss Fak ad 383 THe OcrtaAN BLoopHounp. By 8. W. Pierce... 34 OREGON Sot. By Capt. J. F.C. Adams...... 85 Wiup Ivan, Toe Boy CLaupr Duvan. By Ed- ward L. Wheeler. ......... BEM Ney 86 THe Boy Crown. By FrankS. Finn... ..... 87 Taz Hrpen Loper. By T.C. Harbaugb.... 88 Nep Wxipr. By Texas Jack .............. 39 Deatu-F'ack, THE DerectivE. By Edward L. WHERE 2.50.40... 5 Sal dete soa te 40 Rovine Ben. By John J. Marshall........... 41 Lasso Jack. By Oll Coomes....... ........ , 42 Tur PHAntomM Miner. By Hd. L. Wheeler ... 43 Dick DARLING, THE Pony Express Riper. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker.. .. oa eee ee 44 Rartiuine Rouse. By Harry St. George ...... 45 OLD AVALANC THE GREAT ANNIHILATOR, By Edward L. 46 Guass-Eyn, THE FDOCIE ST: SSS Fe aoe Mies eee Great SHOT oF THE WEST. 49 OmaHA Ont, By Edward L. Wheeler.......... 50 Burt Bunker. By Charles E. Lasalle......... 51 THe Boy Ririms. By Archie C. Iron.......... 52 Tae Waite Burrawo. By Charles BE. Lasalle.. 53 Jot Biupsor, Jr. By Edward L. Wheeler.... 54 Nep Hazen. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams........ 55 Deapiy-Eve. By PUMBIO Pl. 2s ss ta cg ak ts. 56 Nick Wurrriers’s Per. By J. F. CO. Adams.... 57 Deapwoop Dick’s Eacurs. By E. L.Wheeler,. 58 Taz Borper Kine. By Ol Coomes........... 59 Op Hioxory. Ey Uarry St. George......... SESFITSTS SF F SF SIFTS SFFF FFF FF | 102 Dick Deav-lyz. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. bc. | 121 Crynamon Cute. By Edward L. Wheeler..... | 122 Par, Harpy, tHe Boss Boy. By Chas. Morris 5c. | 124 Trepy, THe Texan. 74 Hawkeye Harry. By Oil Coomes..... a 5c. 7% Tue Boy Dueuisr. 2 Hee Ingraham.,...... 76 Apm Coit, THE Crow 77 Corpuroy CHARLIE. 78 Buve Dick. By Captain Mayne Reid.... . 5c, 79 Sot GIncER, THE Giant Trapper. A.W. Aiken 5c 80 RoseBup Ros. By Edward L. Wheeler .. 5e 81 LicguTnrne Jor. 5e. . L. Wheeler... 5c, Captain J. F.C. Adams... 5c 86 Danpy Rock. By G. Waldo Browne .... .. 5e. 87 THe Lanp Pirates, By Capt. Mayne Reid.. 5c. 88 PHoToGRAPH Put, By Edward L. Wheeler... 5c. 89 IsLAND Jim. By Bracebridge Hemyng........ 5e. 90 THe DREAD Rier. By G. Waldo Browne ... 5c. 91 Tue CaPraIn oF THE Crus. By Bracebridge FHOMPNG ths uaupey es MI or. Ee 92 CanaDA CHET. By Edward L. Wheeler....... 5c. 93 Tar Boy Miners. By Edward S. Ellis... .... be 94 Mipniaut Jack. By T. C. Harbaugh . 5c 100 Drapwoop Dick mn LEADVILLE. By Edward ee ar ie mr. 101 Jack Hankaway IN New York. By Brace- LUIS. FLOUIVIE .ai s 8 a re E ‘ 103 THe Lion or THE Sra. By Col. Delle Sara . 5c. 104 Deapwoop Dick’s Drevicr. By Ed. L. Wheeler 5c. 105 Oup Ruse, rar Hunter. By Capt, H. Holmes 5c. 106 Otp Frosty, tHe Guipr. By T.C. Harbaugh. ic. 107 Ons-Eyep Siw. By J. L. Bowen... .... 5c. 108 Dartnc Davy. By Harry St. George..... ... 5c. 109 Drapwoop Dick as Deructrvge. By Edward L. Wheeler... Ary ; ao OC, 110 Tae Buack Stexrp or THE Pramums. By James . Bowen........ aa sa oe Ok a 111 THe Sra-Devi. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 5c 112 THe Map Hunter. By Burton Saxe......... Be 113 Jack Hoyvrze. By Edward L. Wheeler..... 5c IEE P59, es os ee le tala actA ie (Ore 117 Gitr-EpcEep Dick. By Edward L. Wheeler.. 5c. 118 THe Boy DerEcrive. Charles Morris.... 5c. 119 Mostane Sam. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr........ be. 120 Tom Branvep Hanp. | By Frank Dumont... > ie. 123 Kiowa Cuartry. By T.C. Harbaugh........ 5c. y George Gleason..... 5c. 125 Bonanza Brun, Miner. By E. L. Wheeler.... 5c. A new issue every week. Beadle’s HWali-Dime Library is for sale by all Newsdealers, five cents per copy or gags mail on receipt of six cents each. BEADLE & AMS Publishers, 98 William Street, N. Y. THE STAR JOURNAL, “The Model Family Paper —AND— Most Charming of the Weeklies.” A pure r; good in every thing; bright prilliant eel attoaenive. aoe Serials, Tales, Romances, Sketches, Adventures, Biographies, Pungent Essays, Poetry, Notes and Answers to Correspondents, Wit and Fun— All are features in every number, from such celebrated writers as no paper in America can boast of. What is best in POPULAR READING, that tho paper always has; hence for Homs, Sxop, Li- BRARY and GENERAL READER it is without a rival; and henceits great and steadily increasing circulation. The STAK JOURNAL is sold everywhere by newsdealers; price sim cents per number; or to subscribers, post-paid, at the following cheap rates, Viz.: Four months, one dollar; one year, three dollars ; or, two copies, five dollars. Address BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York,