Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 174) (1880 11 23)
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% : ozs eRe) (adapt i " BI = < - re ws \’ » fe Sa —- : , fe a a ; Hao wr ti <= “ = 5 or, j re £ Wf a! 1a os Mes le Str Wes (GEE es ie eet : Y nA ~~ i - | (tag! tw Ac 4 Pe 8 year. Fanon November 23, 1880... v4 Vol. VIL. : No. 174. BOB ROCKETT ) EW YORK: AUTHOR OF “‘ WILL SOMERS,” ‘‘ PHIL HARDY,” ‘‘ PICAYUNE PETE,” “DETECTIVE DIC.” “ HANDSOME HARRY,” “ wih WILDFIRE, THE THOROUGHBRED,” “BLACK BESS, WILL WILDFIRE’S RACER,” ‘‘ MIKE MFRRY, THE HARBOR POLICE BOY,” “BILLY BAGGAGE,” “‘ WILL WILDFIRE IN THE WOODS,” “‘A TRUMP CARD,” ETO., ETC. \ ed TT \\y - \\\ A SS aes \\ \ Ss TT ‘ \ ——— + ———. ** at's come to this, hey? Look here, mother! Thievin’! Wer fine boy’s thievim’ !
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Bi Bob Rockett, THE BOY DODGER; R, Mysteries of New York. BY CHARLES MORRIS, ercacR oF ‘WILL WILDFIRE,” ‘‘A TRUMP gamp,” “BILLY BAGGAGE,” ‘MIKE MERRY,” ETC., ETC. CHAPTER I. THE BOY ROUGH. Wx must ask the reader’s indulgence if we axe ehliged to take him, in the following pages, ivéomegions neither reputable nor savory; into @wedes Of penury and haunts of crime. Not itewt nat and crime necessarily dwell together, ar Yivext crime always deserts the mansion for tee Wovel; but simply that it is not the vespect- waive rogue with whom we have here to deal, but iiewvilainy in its rudest form. %his im the city of New York that the scene er story is laidjand in the month of Octo- fear, Shut halting-place between summer and mieter, which partakes of the charm and es- /<yaeae unpleasantness of both. ina the great metropolis the tide of commerce ‘naat’ts busiest flow. Men are making money “olty and spending it freely, in a feverish 14k) OF legitimate and illegitimate pleasures. “fat there are parts of the ciby in which wey is less easily made and more grudgingly 7%; wund in which the pleasures are lower, h perhaps not more criminal in type. tiie with these that we are concerned. Not otis tine elegance of the aristocratic quarters, hiwwes: not with the glitter and glare of wealth, faitverith the gloom of penury and want. im trout of one of these huge tenement-houses, inetaich humanity swarmed as thickly «arta ia their hives, on a warm October even- imp, was gathered a group of boys, most of ithema waged, dirty-faced, ill-looking young va- symanta, She products of an atmosphere of beg- wae awd crime. he group comprised five boys, of various time, the eldest being a sharp taced, dwarfish inf, who might huve been ofany age fromfour- mam te seventeen, and who seemed to dominecer eee ithe others with the authority of a bor: ‘outer. “This was Bob Rockett, known as the tieey Dodger. as bees : Bob —— ‘*Oh!” resumed Bob, with a short laugh, as he stretched himself at full length on the pave- ment; ‘ he had jest the squeekiest old organ ye ever heered. e were tryin’ to grind out ‘*Bully Boys;” but sich a gay old grind! Any- how he had a cute little monkey, that could do *most oa thing ’cept talk. And ther was a crowd, It were down nigh Fulton Ferry, ye see. Well, that cute monkey was sharp ’nough to go feelin’ in people’s pockets fer money. And he’d jest as lieve take a pocket-book as a penny, . spose. I know I would if I was acting mon- ey. The bers laughed at this, as if they thought it a good joke. ** Anyhow,” resumed the speaker, “‘ the mon- key come over near me, and I held up a nickel, and then doused it down in my big coat-pocket. he, sharp critter went squar’ in there arter it, and—’ ** And what?’ came the FS question. ‘‘He stayed,” said the Dodger, laughing. “He was tied with a bit of rope, which some- how come in two; and the pocket flap shet down like asteel trap. You oughter jest been there. The boys was greatly amused at thought of his exploit. “Did you git it off, Bob?” asked the boys, ea- | gerly. ‘‘ What did you do with it? Where is | 1?” ‘Git a weasel off!” growled Bob. ‘* But that Italyan did kick up the wust fandango you ever | see’d. Sich a dancin’ and a yellin’ and a. hair pullin’! I thought Pd take a walk up to the Boolevards, fer he ’most made me sick. But | what did the blasted furriner do but drap his | organ and make fer me, as if I] weren’t only a | monkey, iteswith the squalor of the region of tenement- | | | knowed he was out.” | “fShet up that pertater trap of yourn, Joe | tee,” he ejaculated, ina tone of command, puve't know what’s drapped.” * MVpose a feller’s got a right ter speak, hain’t io?” eel Joe. rebelliously. ‘Yigt wvyhen he ar’n’t goin’ to talk sense,” was ine Watger’s reply. ‘1’! stand whatever’s in ‘Ke Sense, bat ’ga the coon as ain’t goin’ to youiiew talk soup: Ye can jist bottle up yer gna € ye ain't goin’ to give it out solid.” it speaker was by no means an attractive oneciamem. His eyes were smell and deep set, iiscamern snub that had got an u cant toone iim dering some of hisnumerous his lips @aieh mead sensual, His dirt-colore tangled wir eowered a head which had its greatest ex- iwyueien in ‘the rear, showing a preponderance of 4heswmimal-organs. Yet he was Sy no means in) Yeoking. His small eyes glittered under “eete aeverhanging brows, and were full of a ‘wax xammning that showed one well adapted to vuviee iis way through a wide-awake world. In feamre Ihe was squat and almost dwarfish, but weet shoulders gave evidence of a strength toa wis form, at first sight, did not promise. t here, Bob Rockett,” broke in an- ridvcar of boys, a tall, solidly-built fellow, “teere’s no use in you squatting down on Joe Vets avay. I don’t see as you've bought his ieage. And you say about what you please "STI I allers talks reason. Ye don’t find me shts, tand ~& noes ’ out none o’ that preacher stuff,” an- saan the r with a sniff of contempt. rc if Joe weéren’t to church last Sun- im j Nite emneving laugh was echoed by the remain- a af the young eae to b fags the Be Pp oc. ong was the utmost evidence o E. ‘onary: that” cried another of the bo Sib tP oe another of the boys oho Ss hier like a Turk upon the pave- row. “I waat to hear that story about the dex and the monkey, which you bu/sted dondt-ctewt in the middle.” * Pd put on the air brake sosuddent you | i ‘sponse. young gent out ona sociable? He grabbed me, and swore in his tarnal lingo that I bad the | y. You never see’d an innocenter lamb than I was when I axed him if his mammy Bob laughed again at the recollection. ‘*But you had the monkey, you know?” said Joe eg . The narrator cast an annihilating look of con- | tempt upon his simple-minded companion. suthin’ to laff at!” ‘*Why blame yer rantankerous eyes, is that | all yer eddication comes to? A fellow, now-a- | days, ain’t got only what’s found on him. Take that in yer noddle, Joe Linker. Ef I kept a | lunatic ’sylum I know who’d go in there iust; | that’s all,” And the Dodger closed his lips, as if he had | no more words to waste on such an audience. “Oh, go ahead,” demanded another gamin. | “Tf Joe don’t dry up we'll carry him cutin a coal scuttle. I s'pose you. was innercent as a | cat in a milk pail.” ‘“Weren’t I innercent though? I was jist | *bout making that furriner gocown on his shin- bones, and ax my pardon, fer I spread it so thick that a good many thar'took stock in me, | i'd a-got off safe, too, only fer the dernedest sell anybody ever see’d.” “What was that, Bob?’. cried the boys in chorus. The young rough kept .silent for a mipute, as if he was reflecting on the uncertainty of for- tune, and the uselessness of virtue. Then he took up again the broken thread o£ bis story. ‘Tt were the monkey,” he said. ‘*The monkey ?” ‘Yes. When I were busy axin’’em what'd any fool want. with a monkey when he hadn’t no organ, and I were keepin’ my hand kinder keerless.on the pocket as had the critter in it— what’d you think?’ “Oh goon! Yer too long-winded.” ‘‘ Well, the fust thing I knowed, if there weren’t that derned ame a-squattin’ on top my head, a-grinhin’ to the folks, and a-rippin’ my hat up as if it was special fond of old felt! Do ye know it was a blamed mean sitivation to be in. : “T should think so,” came the laughing re- ‘* How did he git there? And how did you git out of there?” “Git thar? Hein? oy, he eat a hole in my pocket big enough to put a loaf of bread in. As fer gittin’ out L was fearful ’fraid they’d ab me. So I jist snatched the monkey and flung him at the Italyan’s head. In course he let go me to git rid of the critter. Down I went, headforemost tween his legs, and sich a ilin’ up of Italyan and organ and monkey no- ody never see’d. You I didn’t wait to see em sorted out ag’in. I slid.” And the young Rockett laid back with a grave look upon his face, as if he had been re- citing a perfectly reputable adventure, His companions ras apg a, at the narration, seeming to think it great fun; all except Joe, Rockett, the Boy Dodger. | as he locked after bis burly enemy. who could not get rid of the uneasy conscious- ness that Bob had intended to steal the monkey. The young street Arab who was thus enjoy - ing the admiration of his young vagrant com- panions, had stretched himself out at full length across the narrow pavement, with little _ to the comfort of the passers-by. Some of there stepped over him and others walked around. a while he looked up impudently into thei aces. But this state of affairs was not likely to con- tinue. There now came along, with a slight reel in his gait, a weather-beaten, savage-faced fellow, without a coat, and his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows, while a short, grimy pipe was firmly gripped between his teeth. e stopped on Neem opposite the boy, and looked down with a dull glare in his eyes. “Git out, ye bu’sted toad! or Pll kick ye out,” he growled savagely. ES a ter see ye try it on,” Bob defiantly re- pied. . The rough-looking chap wasted no more words. In an instant he raised his heavy boot and gave a fierce kick, which might have broken a bone for the impudent boy, had he not quickly squirmed away from the impending disaster. As it was the heel of the boot caught the Boy Dodger in flank, and rolled him over on the dusty pavement. ‘“‘Mebbe ye don’t know me,” growled the rough. ‘* Guess it’s like ye will next time.” “Bet I do, then, Rusty Mike. And Ill pay you yit fer that kick, sure’s my name is Bob Rockett.” The fellow uttered a hoarse laugh, as he looked down upon his dwarfish antagonist. He walked on as if disdaining to have anything further to do with him. “How the little banty does crow!” he said, replacing the short pipe between his teeth. There was a lowering savagery in the lo which the Boy Dodger cast after him, as h | crawled slowly to his feet. “Ther’s ways of gittin’ even,” he grumbled “Cause ¢ chap’s a boy, that don’t set him up fer a foot ball— You laffing at me, hey? Bet Pl gi’n you He turned and administered a fierce kick to | Joe Linker, who had not dreamed of laugling But the savege disposition of the young Ara’ had to seek revenge in some quarter, and th | seemed the safest. om Take that, ye derned little wharf rat, ard git! -Won’t stand none o’ yer grinnin’ at me.” ‘““T wasn’t laughing,” whimpered Joe. ‘None o’ yer slack now. Git’s the word.” *Lookee here, Bob,” interposed Paul Esse: the boy who had before takenx Joe’s part, ‘‘ that too thin. Joe hasn’t done nothing to you, an you ar’n’t going to kick him as if he was a dea log. Not while I’m about, anyway.” “You wantin’ to take it up fer him?” aske: the Dodger, his face lighting with a savag: | gleam. ‘‘T’m just the chap for that,” and in an in- | stant Panl was on his feet, and had flung off his coat. ‘* You little rat-tailed, snub-nosed bull you won't be satisfied, then, till you get a raking down?’ ‘*T don’t keer no more fer you nor a bumble- bee ’d keer fer a moskeeter. If you ’spect you kin come here and crow over us, yer jest craw! in’ up the wrong tree. Squar’ yerself, my purty | jolly boat, fer I’m a-goin’ to swamp yer.” ot a cat the With the quickness and ee i ler antagonist, oung reprobate sprung af his ta 1is eyes gsty Phen a tigerish glitter as le ray with all his force at the haridsome face of is foe. But, Paul was not quite ignorant of the art of self-defense. He warded off the ferocious blows dealt at his face, giving'a shrewd left-hander in return, that sent his assaulter staggering baclk- ward. : In an instant there was a desperate affray, the boys yc | fiercely at each other’s faces, or gripping and struggling with all the art of the wrestler, while blood began to streak their cheeks from the clawing blows they had dealt, and their comrades gathered in a ring around them, clapping and encouraging the young sav- ages. This ring was quickly added to, people running in all directions, as if a fight was one of the choicest pleasures of the universe. “Go it, little one!” ‘Pile in, beanpole!” ‘Well hit! Well bit!” ‘*That’s under the belt. Don’t strike foul, nate 6d Such were some of the remarks that passed through the crowd, while not one of them thought of ting the combatants, whom the instinct o = ge had aroused to fury. They were well matched, despite Paul’s great-
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er size and weight; for Bob Rockett had the arms and skoulders of x athlete, and he was of that wiry strength and endurance which only shows itself at its best when the vigor of ether men becomes worn out. Paul, in fact, was displaying signs of exhaus- tion, while Bob, who had p oe worst of the fight at the start, was coming up with fresh energy to every round, the flerce look upon his face be- ing replaced by a lowering smile thst. is far more to be dreaded than the fury of the sav- “Well hit!” cried tho crowd again, as Paul delivered a shoulder blow that was a square knock-down for bis side. “Up — and at it. The little chap has luck, e will whip yet. Ten to one on im!” ~ ‘*Done!” cried another. * Hillo! Scoot, fellers!” exclaimed one of their young companions. ‘‘Yere comes a peeler! Scoot, fore he grabs you!” There was a sucden surge in the crowd, and a turning of heads to seo the policeman who was rather leisurely approaching. At the same moment the boys scattered like the beads of a string whica has suddenly broken; some into | the open door of the tenoment-Louse, ot a neighboring alley, till in ten seconds t mained only the observers, whilo tie ers had entirely disappeared. “What's wrong here? What does this mean?” demanded the policeman, as he hustled impor- tantly into the crowd, clubin hand. ‘ What’s the matter, I say?’ “The matter’s all over, and run away,” re- plied one of the auditors who had little awe of the dignitary, § ‘* There’s nothing left but a few of the feathers.” Jers Up Oo Te- ? | with a thundering on foot? It’s something, to Lp you out all Bob Rockett, the Boy Dodger. j | “Dry up, Sal,” answered Mike, with a won- | derful good-humor for him. ‘Don’t be mixin’ in men’s bizness. Old Smudze ain’t been here, then?” “ No. ” “Then I’ve got to strike out fer him. Ther’ mought be a bit o’ work cut out. What lay on to-night, Beau?” ‘‘ Guess I'Jl step down to Wallack’s. It’s go- ing to be a full house, aad [ve took a private box.” Mike laughed grimly.” “ Look out it ain’ta watch box.” He rose and walked to a closet, from which he took a long-skirted great-coat, with huge pock- ets. Putting on this garment, he drew several articles from a recess of the closet, which he dropped into thé pockets. nt Paint altogether as w side,” he muttered. rarm as new milk out- “Tf Pm iate ye needn’t wait up fer me, Sal. Only kick Beau out, fer he’s too fond of toastin’ his shins at the fire.” Lighting his pipe, and inserting its grimy stem between his teeth, the burly rufilan walked out of the room, flinging the door to aiter him “*h “Pesounded whi slam, | through the tumble-down old jiouse. The two persons left behind looked meauingly | | avoid the vessels that occasionaliy moved slow- perform. | ‘*Break up this mob instanter, or I'l] arrest | the whole of you,” was the haughty response. Vith a laugh in its outer circles, the crowd dispersed. CHAPTER IL. A MYSTERIOUS AFFAIR, In a contracted, dingy room, sparsely fur- | nished with several tipsy chairs, a dilapidated lounye, and a table in which one lost leg was supplied by a box placed on end and surmount- ed by a brick, sat Rusty Mike, the savage cus- to~er who had just used his boot on the impu- dent boy. He now occupied a chair drawn up to the table, and was devouring his supper of cold corn- ed beef and dry bread with tiie avidity of a famished wolf : There were two other occupants of the apart- ment, One was a tall, lank individual, dressed in asuit of rusty black, and with a quasi-re- spectability in his soiled cuffs and the attempted smartness of his collar and neck-tie. There was a sort of perpetual sinirk on his face, a counter- feit presentment of good-humor covering the fox like cunning of his eyes, and the dubious | wrinkles about'the corners of his wide mouth. The other was a woman, a plump, cotfort- able-looking body, though with many lines of | eare in her once handsome face. She was dressed in a soiled calico gown, the bright fig- ures of which had Jong disappeared under a eoating of grease and dirt. Nor was the rerain- der of her toilet any more attractive, her rum- pled hair looking as if it had never made ac- quaintance with a comb. “T hain’t had one blessed mouthful since mornin’, and I’m as sharp-set as a hyenar,” an- nounced Mike, as he continued his ravenous meal. Old Smudge been round these diggin’s, hey?” “No,” answered the woman, in a hoarse voice, “And maybe it’s jist as well fer his beauty, for I feel like taking his photograph on the bottom of a frying-pan, the old reprobate!” “Now that’s not right, Mrs. Sally. You shouldn’t never bear malice,” chimed in the faded exquisite. ‘* You don’t give Mr. Smudge credit for his good p’ints.” “ Mister Smudge! Lord! yer ’nough to make a hog sick.” And Mike’s face wore a look of disgust. ‘Tryin’ to play yer airs on us, are you know.” “Yes, a powerful lot of infernal humbug,” growled Mike ‘“Paugh! I wouldn’t be sich an ps F fer a ship-load of benns.” . Fhat’s adrift, Mike?” asked the women. as if desirous to turn the conversation. “T say, Sal, what’s been on the carpet? | | itis incumbent on us to fol! at each other. “'There’s something in the wind,” said Sal, with an expressive gesture, Bean ‘touched his lips with an airy grace. “*Muin’s the word,”ke remerked. “I hope he won’t get jugged; but, there’s going to be a erib cracked afore mornin’ i , to step down and look arter 5 > 1 ADYLO , Pithar my privat It’s ’most time to meet tiy wealthy friends and 'quaintances.” A strange look’ came upon the wor ft when she was thus left aione in the reco i took the seat which Mike hati just vacat ‘ sat for several minutes with her face resting up on her hands, as if lost in deep and unpleasant reflections. Meanwhile the two men had walked away from the house in different directions, Mike passing the spot where he had, a half-hour b: fore, so savagely assailed Bob Rockett, the iuspu- dent pavement lounger. The group of boys was no longer there, had not returned after their broken-up fight. Yet w the footsteps of a portion of the party, who ‘ure on business des- tined to prove of some interest. It is, however, at a date some three or four hours later than that of the above incidents that we again find our youthful street rough with three of his associates, but in a very ciffer- ent position froin that in which we last left them. For they are now in a boat, snd rowing slowly down the course of the Hast river, the Boy Dodger holding the tiller, while two of the others are engaged ati the oars, and the third erched as a look-out in the tow. — t was a moonless and starless night, the only light upon the dark surface of the stream being the refiected glow from the gas-lamps -of the | city, and from the lights of the mumerous Ves- sels ranged along the wharves. “Wouldn't Reddy Prime be ravin’ if he | knowed we'd salted his skiff?’ remarked Bob, laughing. » “If you’d only ’a’ seen the neat style I slid the key from his vest pocket. Axed | him fur a chaw, and while he were tellin’ me to go to Greece, I clumb fur the kev. And he thought I were only brushi:’ @ fly off’n the end of his nose! What the blazes ails ver eyes, Jake Purdy? Want us tosink that schooner, eh? A purty look-out you are!” With a sweep of the rudder the steersman saved the boat from collision with a schooner, that was gliding past under shortened sail. A voice came back in a laughing tone: ‘Look out! There’s a Cunarder below. Just try and don’t stave in her sides.” ‘She'll have to keep outer our way, then,” retorted the Dodger. “She’s right in here,” announced one of the oarsmen, in a low tone. ‘*The Three Sisters put in this arternoon with a cargo of prime saddle-rocks. Head her in, Bob.” ‘Keep yer weather eye open, Jake,” warned the latter. “If the Harbors are about we mought catch thunder.” ‘And how about the oystermen?”’ asked the other oarsman. “It’s too ’arly for ’em to be on the watch. Ther’ all up to the shades, swiggin’ beer. If we’re cute we kin sell ’em fur a prime roast.” They were now approaching the line of the wharves, and the young river thieves began to “Any lay | row more cautiously, moving the oars with a — — ee, great care to avoid noise, while their tonss saa: into whispers, “Hist!” warred Jake. ‘There’sa boat’s neem Leeping ’cruss the Battery lights. Sbeulas ‘ts wonder if it were the Harbors.’ * Back water!” commanded the Boy Dedexr. ‘Bring ber to. Not a whisper, lads. They 3 slide past ’thout ever seein’ us.” The long, black boat, rapidly propelled kita dozen stalwart arms, shot along the dark iz» of the piers, being visible to the boys ageima’t: the backgroued of lights, while they remained. invisible in tt.e outer darkness. Eut to the chagrin ot the young pirates titre: dusky Loat suddenly shifted its course, and shets into the very dock where lay the oyster bom: which they hoped to piunder. “It’s the Harbors, sure enough, blast ’em?" grumbled Bob. ‘If they cotch us here they" be axin’ all sorts of ridiklus questions. * "BS if boys hadn’t no biz out-doors wier dark. | Guess we’d best put furder out, till they *senala-— late. Sbouldn’t wonder if it’s orsters thoy rm, arter, ’s well as us,” , Cautiously turning the boat it was rowed) further out into the dark and silent stream, the. shrewd judgment of the boys preving that this: was no new adventure of thes; but that they: Lad been on similar expeditions before, It was necessary to exercise some care > ly by, and the boat was set further ever tow amg the Brooklyn shore, out ef ibe channel. To thé right and left arose the shadowy ovt lines of the two great cities, 7ainily dluminated by the multitude of lights which burned in their evenues, and whose mingled glow was reflected atk by the floating clouds, until’a crimsor canopy seemed to extend above each dusty It was like the light of a smoldering con- ation. S’pose we've got to lay here and rest for a belf-bour, till them Harbors slides,” remartect, one of the boys, discontentedly. ‘‘Lawst it’s ' encugh to give a.chap the shivers.’ gab!” returned the Dodger. as mice, lads. Ther’s somethin” comin’ this way under oars. Mebbe it’s the Harbors ag’in. Hist! they’re nearin’ us.” They boys sunk into profound silence at thi: ‘* Hold yer ‘Keep still > | warning, but held their oars in-readiness to row They ; fi | the sl r safety, if necessary. In the deep quiet that lay upon the streczm. tnesound that Bob had heard became distinet lyr andible. The rise and fall of oars, bandied Witte, great care, and apparently niufiled, came te» theirears. There was horatile in the rowjocks Lut the successive splashes of water could nok; be wistaken. “ve twigged ’em now,” who had his eyé to the water. in’ straight for us.” No they aren’t,” whispered Bob, in reterw. They dl pass a piece to the left. “Here ihey corie,” The dark line of the approaching boat now became visible to- all. \A vessel layat oenchsm ome distance away, with a light in’ her gine. This light was directly behind the efx announced Jaime, “Theyre head | ing boat, and revealed its outlines in shutiow's: glimpses to the keen-eyed lads. The mysterious stranger was now dirertiyr opposite, ard some twenty feet distent ei ‘iif of the boys. To the surprise of ths Mt ter it suddenly backed oars, and came to # hake This stoppage was followed by some conversa tion in a low tone, of which the listeners cowl®, distinguish no word. “They’ve twigged us,” whispered Jakes. “ We'd best git.” ‘No, no!’ impatiently from the Dedger- ‘¢ Keep still.” The next moment two dark forms were seem, to stand erect in the opposite boat, while a. horizontal outline was visiblé between thers, ae if they were lifting some weight from the bct.. tom of the boat. “Now,” came in a voice raised somew baie; loucer. ‘A good send. One, two—and gorr.*” The object, flung with vigorous foree, lefs: their hands, and fell with a Joud splash into tha, stream, some distance away from the boat. ‘To oars and away,” came again in hoarst, tones. As quickly as if they had been trained tothe, exercise the men seated themselves and grasye their oars, yet floating in the row-Jocks. “) splesh of the falling object bad barely cewm.iy ere their boat was again moving through * #- water. This haste indicated that there >< something criminal in the mysterious acti: t= jast_ witnessed by the unseen boys. Whatever if was Bob Rockett was as alcrt tm discover as the oihe:s were to escepe.
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oA _ = Hi agen _ + In an instant he ordered the boys to row; the sound of their oars being masked by those of the fugitive craft. The boat moved rapidly toward the eddy made by the sinking object. But we must go somewhat back in our story to trace certain events leading up to this mys- terious circumstance. A short time previous to the incident just narrated, beside an unoccu- ied wharf at no great distance from the attery, there floated a boat containing one m, who seemed impatiently waiting as if some expected companion. “Drat him fur a slow-goin’ mule,” he mut- fered. ‘“I’d give somethin’ fine if I were safe out of this bizness, fer I don’t like it fer nothin’. Vd slide, shoot me if I wouldn’t, only fer Mike. But he’d brain meif I went back on him.” His soliloquy was interrupted by a sound which seemed to be that he was expecting, to pede by his quick movement. He drew the closer to the wharf, to which he clung in a crouching attitude, the high tide raising the water surface well toward the wharf level. Yet the only sound audible was that of dis- tant wheels, as if a carriage was being driven rapidly through some neighboring street. A minute or two afterw this sound came nearer, and was followed by the appearance of the carriage, drawn by two horses which amerged upon the street adjoining the wharf. The horses were drawn up to a walk on reach- ing this position, the two men on the box ap- parently taking a cautious survey of their sur- moundings. And now a low signal whistle came from the man in the boat. ‘ All correct!” answered one of the men on the box, as he sprung hastily to the ground. “Fetch yer kerrige in this way, and quick as powder. This is the skittish part of the game.” He hurried across to the ceeey of the boat. “The coast clear?’ he impatiently asked. “Aylay! Hurry, Mike. It’d be tarnal awk- ward to git nabbed now.” ‘*Burn yer bu’sted tongue, ye hain’t got no more nerve nor a cabbage,” came the answer, in tones which could only be those of Rusty Mike. “Fetch yer hosses round this a-way. And quick, d’ye hear?” The carriage was now drawn up to the side of the wharf opposite the boat. The coachman eontinued on his seat, looking directly forward, as if anxious not to know what was takin lace beneath him. But Mike had been quic throw open the door of the vehicle, display- ing within a shadowy form, which seemed that of a woman, and at her feet a long, slender package, inclosed in some dark material. Mike grasped this object in his vigorous arms and drew it from the carriage, assisted in some measure by its occupant. ; This m now leaned forward, displaying in the faint light the rounded outlines of a wo- man’s face. Young and handsome so far as gould be made out. “ Haste, now,” she uttered in a musical hiss. “Do not fail, and your reward shall be doubled.” “That's all right,” growled Mike. ‘‘ And ther’s no time now fer talk. Snatch it, Tim.” He hastily lowered his burden to the man in the boat, who staggered with its weight as h ag 24 it lengthwise on the bottom. ke hastily closed the door of the carriage. “ Off with ye, like ein, he called to the eoachman as he himself sprung into the boat. In another minute the vehicle was rolling away citywards, while the boat moved out into the stream, impelled by two pairs of oars. We need not follow them in this movement. We have already seen the end of their mysteri- ous journey, and the effort of the curious boys to discover the nature of the object thus strange- ¥y consigned to the swift flood of the river. CHAPTER II. A VISIT, AND A DISCOVERY. Ir is a most attractive interior, Crimson dra depending from the windows, in mas- sive folds, let the sunlight strain in rich hued mistiness through, their dense thickness, and throw an all loom over the velvet-clad Fe pes na Siades.ot bio pg ca: pain warm tones, adorn the w te) the wry = tly furnished apartment. A bronze vase, filled with a fresh bouquet of fragrant flowers, stands by the mantle. Every- thing, in fact, is ri ant, and in excellent keeping, and the whole room seems a warm- toned poem, in which bright objects take the place of musical words, On a sofa so placed that the subdued light from one window falls fully upon it, reclines a younz lady, in the bloom of youth and beauty. Bob Rockett, the Boy Dodger. She is dressed in keeping with the room she oc- cupies, the purple folds of her attire falling in ——e waves to the floor, while her face, as she listlessly turns the pages of a book, is flushed with the warm crimson of the curtained light. Vet her reading is only a pretense, Her eyes are not even fixed upon the book. Nor does she seem quite at ease, for she starts light- ly at every sound from without, her eyes turn- ing with repressed impatience to the door. To appearance she is expecting a visit; whether welcome or unwelcome it were hard to say. There is a rap, quick and somewhat loud, at the door of the room. ? “Come in,” she says, in the tones of a musi- cal voice, as her eyes become centered upon the pages of her book. n response to this invitation the door opened and a gentleman entered, a fall ene eh d- some young man, though with a asty step, and a look of disquiet in his fine brown eyes. The lady lifted her eyes negligently from the book, and turned her face, with its sunlight flush, toward him. “Ah! Mr. Delorme. iy what an abnor- mally early visit for you! did not know that you kept such unfashionable hours. But I am glad to see you, for lam growing ti of this stupid book, ay be seated.” he let the book fall carelessly to the floor as she spoke, and turned her face toward him, without rising from her half-reclining position on the sofa. “Karly!” he said, with a slightly distracted manner. sa a his gloved hand on the back of a chair. But— ut, Miss Ormiston, there has been the most extraordinary affair.— You were at Miss Garland’s yesterday?” “Oh yes! I spent the afternoon with Grace. Poor soul! I suppose you heard of her sad mis- fortune?” ** Misfortune! mystery!” His voice had a rin “ What can it mean? What can of her?” “Why, sir, I do not understand you,” and the young lady quickly rose toa aria 4 ition. ‘* Have they not told P hae the cause of her sud- den absence? The death of her father—her journ ] e a | ‘** But her father is not dead!” ‘Not dead?’ Miss Ormiston rose to her feet, and confronted him in wide-eyed surprise. ‘*How can that be? I saw the ——— I helped Grace in her hasty B sarsey-on, accom- anied her to the depot.—Not dead? But you ave not been to the house, nor heard the news?” Her bright eyes were full of feeling for his evident distress, as she thus spoke. “Yes. I know it all” fingers closed firmly on the chair. ‘‘ But I have telegraphed West for the particulars, and have received a re- ply from Mr. Garland himself. He is ectly well. There was no such dispatch sent. There is some strange mystery here.” ‘*Good heavens! you do not tell me that?” exclaimed the young lady, laying her hands upon his arm, and looking up earnestly into his face. ‘‘ But the message came. She took the Erie train West. Isaw her on board the cars myself.—Not dead? Then what can it mean? Oh, Mr. Delorme, can there be anything wrong in this? Had you not better pursue her at once? Some enemy! Some base villain!—” It is the most unexplained of distress. ave become “Yes,” he said, quickly, wiping Be cold sweat | from his brow. I merely wished to learn from you if she had really gone. I shall take +3 nee’ express. {shall follow at once. And He paused suddenly, took his hat from the table, and with a nervous step walked to the door of the apartment. ‘“‘ Excuse my haste,” he said, turning toward her. ‘‘ But—you will understand—” ‘Certainly, certainly!” she eagerly replied extending her beautiful arms as if she woul push him from the room. ‘“ Haste, haste! let nothing delay you! And send me word of what ou discover. I shall be in agony until I hear m you. The door closed behind him. She could hear his sn et steps upon the stairs.—Then the look of anxiety left her face, and a smile of deep er took its — Gisenntie » eh es, yes, pursue her, orme,” she murmured. “Save her from ber foes—if you can.—But you shall not save yourself from me. Ah! I love you! and none shall stand between me and my love!” There was a look upon her flushed face, as she stood there with extended arms, that had in it a vast depth of passion. There was far more in that woman than the listless novel reader she had ap but a short time before. b She walked quickly to the window, flung aside the heavy curtain with a sweep of her arm, and looked earnestly out upon the street, following with burning eyes his departing form. ‘* Pursue her; yes,” came in murmured ac- cents from her 7 “You bave pursued her too long. Poor thing, you have pursued her te her misfortune. And now—” She dropped the curtain and moved hastily across the room, stopping in front of a tall pier lass that revealed all the rounded curves of vo form, and the beautiful outlines of her e. “You can not say that I am not beautiful,” she continued, a smile of gk gy lightin up the full features, with all their re charm. ‘And you shall be mine, cold as you have been to me.—I swear it!” But we must return to the boat-load of ad- venturous boys, whom we left at rest in the darkness on the waters of the East river. The mysterious boat, which they had so eagerly watched, had\not got many feet distant ere a second splash followed that of the strange ob- ject which its occupants had flung into the stream. ‘¢ What is that?’ cried Mike, resting an instant on his oars. ‘Oh, nothing!” replied his uneasy companion. ‘A porpoise jumping, I s'pose. Fall to. Idon’t want to hang about here.’ “Devil take you fer a white-livered cur!” owled Mike. ‘‘ Yer a neat coon for men’s izness. Why ye ain’t got a soul as big as a half-grown wafer. A-shiverin’ at every noise as if it were the click o’ the darbies! I oughter be kicked fer havin’ eapees to do with yer, fer ye’ll sell out the hull caboogin’ yit, to save yer thripenny neck.” Mike had taken again to the oars as he utter- ed in a subdued grow] this unflattering opinion of his associate. To his daring and savage na- ture the trembling rascality of bis fellow-villain erpeared the acme of the despicable. he other made no reply, but continued to use the oars with all his strength. Yet it was no ge which had made the alarming splash. It was no other form, in fact, than that of Bob Rockett, who had leaped from the approaching boat into the water, in pursuit of the sinking mass. The boy was a perfect water-rat, and almost as much at home in the waves as on shore. His aim was as quick and sure as that of the South Sea Islanders who dive for coins, and catch them ere they reach the bottom. It is true that several yards separated him from the object of which he was in pursuit; but he covered more than half that distance in his leap, and he shot under the water like an arrow in the direct line in which it had disappeared. The boys rowed the boat quickly toward the spot, watching with earnest eyes for the reap- pearance of their companion. That half-minute, which seems so like a half- hour under such circumstances, passed, and the swimmer’s shaggy head emerged from the wa- ter, at but a short distance from the boat. ‘* What luck?’ asked Jake Purdy, stretching out his arm toward him. ‘* Hush!” was the cautious response. ‘Is the coast clear?” “ Yes.” “Tt?s nabbed then. Stand by to heave it aboard,” and he drew above the water a portion ofa oa i package. Jake had iy aay time grasped Bob by the shoulder, and w him in toward the boat. The active lad threw one hand over the gunwale, and pulled his prize within reach of the other boys, who had shipped their oars, and were eagerly waiting to help him on board with the strange object. **T hope it ain’t no dorg, nor sich chaff, as them chaps was tryin’ to drown,” remarked the Dodger, as he brought the bag-like material within their reach. ‘ It wouldn’t be no fun if we'd a-given up our orsters fur sich truck— _Be- lay, chaps, do yer waut to capsize the skiff? Hold er level il I get to the other side. I'l er. The boys clung to the recovered object while Bob dived under the boat. Reappearing in an instant, he grasped the opposite gunwale, hold- ing the boat steady. ‘ Now, jerk her in lively!” he cried. “I’ve got the craft trimmed.” The weight seemed very heavy when drawn from the water, and the three boys could scarcely have got it in, only that the boat careen- ed to the water’s edge despite Bob’s balancing
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Bob Rockett, the Boy Dodger. weight, and the prize was rather shuffled than lifted over the cunwale. ‘*Good for our side,” exclaimed the swimmer, as he lifted himself from the stream, and sprung, with an alert movement, into the boat, though the slender craft rocked perilously as he did so. ‘‘ Now the question is, what’s the plunder,” he remarked, It was still dark, but they had drifted nearer to the anchored vessel, whose light threw a faint glimmer upon the water, enabling them to perceive that it was a long, slender package, enveloped in some sort of thick cioth. “Do you know,” said Jake, in a thrillin whisper. ‘‘I do b’lieve it’s a livin’ creetur. felt sometbin’ jist like an arm through the stuff.” ‘* And this looks like a head,” said one of the other boys, pointing to a rounded extremity of the package which rested upon one of the seats of the boat. ‘‘Lend me yer knife, Phil,” said the Dodger. Ther’s no use guessin’ when we kin dig in and find out.” Opening the keen blade of the knife in an in- stant the boy mnped the firm covering, for a length of several feet, throwing back the edges of the cut stuff, and revealing a head-shaped ob- ject whose character it was too dark to per- ceive. . “It’s a face!” announced Bob, as he ran. his fingers over the dark mass. ‘‘ Anda woman's, sure as shootin’! Wouldn’t I give somethin now fer a match!” ““T’ve got one,” remarked Phil. In a moment the match was struck, Foran instant it smoldered, and then burst into a bright fiame, while the boys’ faces were bent bj forward over their mysterious prize. hat was their surprise to see break out into sudden luster, under the gleamof the match, a face more beautiful than any one they had ever before observed! A face of perfect outline, instinct with all the charm of youth, a dense mass of brown hair elinging to the rounded cheek, while the ores were closed as if in sleep or death, and the skin was of a marble whiteness, as if every drop of blood had flown back upon the heart. Fora single instant the burning match revealed this marvelous vision of youth and beauty, and —— went out, leaving in deep darkness as ore. The boys drew a long breath. “Jerusha!” cried the Dodger; ‘‘I never see’d sich a face! We've got to bring her to life or bu’st, boys, fer ther’s cash in this. Did ye see the di’mond a-shinin’ on her neck? Tell ye what, boys, it’s a ten strike if we kin fotch her to.” CHAPTER IV. OLD SMUDGE. OvR last chapter opened with the description of “an interior.” This chapter must commence in the same manner, but the locality, the condi- tions and the occupant so different from those of Miss Ormiston’s boudoir that they might well have belonged to a different world. It isin the meanest, most densely populated, and most disreputable portion of the city, that we find a large, old-fashioned edifice, evidently once a building of some note, and still preserv- ing an aspect of dignity in the midst of the meaner edifices by which it is surrounded. The front room on the second floor of this building is a. large, square apartment, wain- scoted in some dark foreign wood, and the ceil- ing adorned with arabesque designs in plaster, but the former so concealed with dirt, and the latter with cobwebs that it is quite impossible to make out their original character, The room might pass for a second-hand shop of odds and ends, since a great variety of ob- jects hang upon the walls or incumber the floor, some of them curious and valuable, others hard- ly worth lifting from the gutter whence they seem to have come. A large table in the center of the apartment is heaped with such objects, ranging in value from a broken shoe-buckle to a damascened sword-blade; from a torn handkerchief to a scarf of embroidered silk; all m:ng ed together with little d to their value or security. By the wall near the window stands an old , and before this, in a rickety chair, sits the presiding genius of the place, a man of so pecsline aspect as to merit a special descrip- In general outline he resembles more an over- ot spider then any human prototype, his i. having the same puffed, unhealthy look, while his arms and legs are long, thin and crooked, and his fingers, with their unsightly nails, remind one of the talons of a bird of prey. The face of this man was adorned with a long, hooked nose; a wide mouth, the upper lip drawn back and revealing some discolored snags of teeth; small, foxy eyes; and a wriakled skin, that looked more like soiled leather than the covering to a human face. He was dressed in ah old coat, which had once been gray, but which now displayed a wide variety of dusky shades, and which hun to his heels in a most depressing lack of stiff- ness. His head was covered by a soiled hand- kerchief, knotted at the four corners, which formed his favorite indoor head-dress. Such was old nage by which euphonious | name the occupant of the ancient Rensselaer house was usually known. As to his business was it not the sale of second-hand curiosities and valuables of every description? though some of the neighbors did not hesitate to say that the old fellow had other irons in the fire than appeared on the surface. They looked on it as none of their business, however, except such of them as were more intimately connect- ed with old Smudge and his peculiar profes- sion. The old chap did not occupy the whole of the rambling edifice; but as it was his property it is likely that he was very careful as to the char- acter and social position of his under tenants, since he prided himself on his respectability. But we, in our office as reporters, are able to penetrate more deeply into the secrets of this ancient domicile, and to discover some of the mysteries connected with old Smudge’s mode of doing business. It was the morning after the events narrated in our last chapter. The old fellow was seated at his desk busily engaged in making some entries in an account k, in a handwriting which it would have been very difficult for any one but himself to decipher. Suddenly there came a peculiar knock at a door leading from the room into a rear a ment. Old Smudge quickly raised his head and fixed his small eyes on the door in question. A square of glass, an inch or two in width, occu- ee a portion of it; rather too small to give ight, but quite large enough for the purposes of observation. Pushing back his account book the old fellow rose and shuffled his loose pe gt oh across the floor, as he picked bis way back through his ob- structing valuables. ‘“Who ish dat so quick dis morning?” he asked himself, in a tone that had in it a rasping hoarseness. Opening the rear door he entered a smaller apartment, almost bare of furniture, yet contain- ing some of the over-abundance of his stock in trade. Before him, in an attitude of affected grace, stood Beau Bink, the faded exquisite. “Mornin’, Mr. Smudge,” greeted the latter, with an easy wave of the hand. ‘ How re- markably well you are looking ” “Am I?’ snapped the old man. bishness?) What you wants, hey?” ‘* Nothing, nothing,” answered Beau, languid- ly. “Only Ive got a few handkerchiefs, of fresh importation. I thought you’d mebbe like to look at the line of goods.” _ “Le? me she ’em,” answered Smudge, extend- ms claw-like hand. eau drew from his pocket several hancker- chiefs. “T have had them imported myself, so I know they’re first pe oe e said, as he placed them in the extended claws “I sphose,” examining them with an ex- perienced eye and touch. ‘“ Anyt’ing elshe?” “Well, a trifle of a scarf, that somehow got mixed up with them.” He drew from the same pocket a lady’s silk “Tsh dat rf, ‘*Pish!” exclaimed the old man, as he ran his fingers over it. ‘‘ Not goot. None dese t’ings stolen, hey?” “What do you take me for?” asked Beau, with a show of indignation. ‘‘ Do I look likea man that’s not on the square?’ ~ ‘Dey ain’t wort’ much,” answered Smudge paying no attention to this protest. ‘‘ Dat kin goots ish out o’ fashion.” _ “That’s a.lie, old man. I saw folks wearing just sich scarfs no later ago nor last night; and up at Wallack’s too. That’s a fashionable audy- ance, for I paternizes that establishment my- self.” A step was heard upon the stairs, The old man quickly crushed the articles under a heap of curtain stuff that Jay near him, and pusbed Pcau by the shoulders into the front room. r 5 “Wait dere,” he said. ‘‘An don’t shteal noting from de ole man, fer you know he ish tony a gi ith a grating laugh he turned to face the new-comer. What was his surprise to see & half-grown boy, of stout but dwarfish figure, enter the room. “Hey! what you want yere?” asked Smudge, in angry tones. ‘‘ You git out yere now, poy, *fore I set de dogs on ye.’ “Rayther guess not,” answered the boy saucily, as he seated himself in a creakin chair. ‘‘If yer dorgs come here I'll bu’st the’r b’ilers so thunderin’ quick, that ye’ll think ther’s an earthquake got loose.” “What you want, hey?” “Now that’s biz. I’m a wide-awake, I am, My name’s Bob Rockett, you’re old Smudge, the fence—” ‘* It ish a lie! 1t ish a lie!” and he grasped the impudent boy with both hands by the shoulders and rocked him violently back on the chair, while a demoniac expression came upon his ill- favored face. ‘‘ You dam’t poy! You come yere for chaff, hey? I gif you chaff!” But his fury was suddenly changed. He re- leased the boy, and retreated a little with a staggering step. ‘“Mine Gott!” he exclaimed, holding up his hands. ‘A poy like dat, too!” This sudden change was caused by a move- ment of the boy’s hand, which threw asparkling flash of light into the old man’s eyes. ‘“That’s nothin’,” said the Dodger carelessly. ‘““Tt’s only one of the fam’ly diamonds that I want to raise the wind on,” “You waits head one minute.” Old Smudge hurried into the front apartment, where he quickly dismissed his former customer. after paying him for his articles. He ted the door after him as he went down-stairs. A single glance had taught his experienced eyes that the diamond was a valuable one, and he wanted no interruption. “* Le’me she,” he said, on returning. 4 The large stone that sparkled so brilliantly in the sunlight occupied the center of a golden breastpin. He turned and examined it on all sides with the skill of a connoisseur, _ ‘Pooh! noting but paste!” he growled. ‘*Goot gold, dough. Where you git him ‘“‘That’s my business,” reto Bob. “And I don’t want no taffy, neither. That ther di’mond is been in the Rockett family ever since old Noah crossed the frog-pond on a raft, It’s fust chop, I tell yer. It’s wuth a cool thou- sand, if it’s wuth a cent.” #“‘T’ousand tevils!” ejaculated old Smudge. mee: gt ou five tollars for it. Dat pay for de gold. De stone is wort’ not’ing.” * Allright,” retorted the shrewd boy, witha comical wink. ‘You kin have the gold for five dollars. I'll keep the stone, bein’s you don’t want it.” The old rogue was ery. taken aback. “Where you git him?” he asked again. ‘* Ain’t 1 told yer? Pass her over, old S Di’monds ain’t in your line.’ I know the chap as ‘ll shell out lively fer that beauty.” The boy snatched the jewel from the claws that held it, and walked with a swaggering gait to the door. ‘*Oh, come yere now, my purty little chap,” cried old Smudge in wheedling tones. “ the ole man she de nice t’ing again. Mebbe I gif you more.” Bob turned back, with an expression of impu- dent shrewdness upon bis face in which the lines of youth were hardened into the experience of age. But we will not pursue the details of this bar- gaining. It will suffice to say that the sbrewd boy left old Smudge’s den a hour afterward with the weight of twenty dollars in his pocket, asum which seemed a fortune to him, though ‘it was not'a fifth of the value of the jewel hich had fallen into the old receiver's Fnac But we may safely ee Old Smudge’s qués- tion. Where did Bob kett get_ the diamond breast-pin? In order to answer it we are drawn back again to the events of the previous night. We have seen how the boys had cut the can- vas at le “a their : prize, revealing a marvelous utiful face the m , light of a ieee, manne ” — t was an exciting situation. Was the man dead? If not how should they revive her? If so, what should they do with her? It was a dilemma to puzzle older heads than those of a group of vagrant boys. “ T don’t believe she’s drowned, nohow,” an- nounced the Dodger. ‘Why the stuff ain’t much more nor wet on the inside. It’s mighty i Close, and the water badn’t much time to gat
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Bob Rockett, the Boy Dodge eee —_ ee cation as only the offseourings of a great mod- ern city could be. | ero Whrough it,—And what’s more ther’s a sort o’ | { | of human uncleanliness which even the strong perfume of the tobacco could scarcely drown. It was indeed a delectable establishment. As for the performance it was in ony At om the audience. Loose songs and looser dances constituted its principal point. There were ~wyrt fecl ‘boas the gal’s check. Wonder if : they giv uev seme sort o' p’izen stuff to put her Phil, a threwd and suspicious young e, thy seep til tucy could drownd her?” listened with some distrust to his companion’s A. consultation was held over the seeming | boast, ssorpse, whicl.euded in Bob’s suggestion being “Where did you run foul of a gold mine so r ) seiopted. She could not have swallowed any | suddent?’ he asked. burnt-cork minstrels, clog-dan and ballad- “evacer, or bot sufficient to injure her. There! ‘I don’t know as that’s none of your affairs,” | singers; but the most loudly applauded of the “ws.24 evidence of life in the warmth of her face. | answered Bob, defiantly. ormers were the so-called comic singers and “ We must git back to the wharves,” said the | ‘I calklate it am, then. Mine and Jake’s too. let-dancers. ve @odger. ‘ Got.another mate, Phil?’ Who grabbed the di’mond off that woman’s neck Such was the Blue Bell Varieties, and the whe hg last night, eh?” road to hell through our great cities is lined f ““'S)pose we take another peep then. Lawsee, Jake, who !:ad listened in silence, stopped and | with numerous simi institutions, in which “wack @ face as that was!” looked at Bol with a sudden suspicion. But the | vice flaunts itself in all the nakedness above de- The fi aming mateh again revealed the charm- ‘ang young face to the admiring eyes of the boys. ‘Guta change had taken place since they last vara Bt. ig yiaced by a faint marble whiteness was being re- ink flush, which had already *tiaged the lips, and was slowly growing on the ao heeks, “Why, exer werk 2 anone.” ou said there was a di’mond on ob,” remarked Phil, *‘ [ don’t see ““ Mebbe it was only a drop o’ water,” was re- ‘qlee, indifferently. “Looks like a di’mond xacmetimes, ye know.” _ .4¥os/ looked suspiciously at Bob, but said noth- bthareg MMe seemed to have his duubts about that vetx Pavnation, ‘Ata ~@. farther consultation they moved the Saposate igure furtber aft, with a coat under they head for « pillow, and the boys took to their poate «again, directing their course toward the “Sew ‘Zonk wharves, “* Deu’t -see what we're todo with the gal,” seonfessed.the Dodger, after they had proceeded latter was in no sense disconce: . **Lookee here, Phil,” he said, with a defiant gesture. ‘‘ You hinted som’at of that sort last night, and I let it slide, ’cause I tock pity on yer ignorance. This is the second time now, and wants to know if it’s fight ye mean?” Clenching his fists he bristled up like a game cock in front of the latter but slighter boy. ‘You know thatI ain’t on the fight with you,” replied Phil, with some trepidation. ‘Cause I’m b’ilin’ fer a miil with any coon as hints that I ain’t on the square, What you got to say, Jake Purdy? You got the imperdence to hint asl tuk that di’mond?” ‘**T ain’t said nothin’,” replied Jake. “Then I wants you both to understand that this time slides, but the third time means fight. It’s my own biz whar I gits my dingbats, and I’m goin’ to smash any boy’s nose as says it | ain’t. Got all that down in yer bread-baskets?”’ Len” “Then we're lively coonsag’in. But jist take notice, the next feller as calls me a thief, ’m scribed, It was a worthy school for the education of unsophi-ticated youth. Not that Bob Rockett and his comrades could be called unsophisticated, They had, like many of the growing youth cf our cities, been educated into the merits of such performances and listen- ed with delight to the sickening depravity of those so-called actors. “* See yere, fellers,” said Bob slyly, as he drew a small flask from his pocket. ‘I s’pose they won’t sell us no old rye, ’cause we’re boys. But I come pervided.” , As he spoke he took a draught of the burning liquor, with as much ease as if he had been brought up on whisky. The other boys were not his equals in this respect, and choked and pougied in a strangling manner as the fiery li- qui scorched their throats. ‘“Gay old topers, you are,” laughed Bobin de- rision. ‘‘Chokin’ over prime bourbon as if it was reg’lar kill-devil—Hi! hi! that’s good! D’ye hear that?” as one of the singers got off a ‘worm Aistence. “If she were only dead we | goin’ to climb him if he’s as tall as a church | strong an wmuemgha send.tur the cor’ner; and if she were | steeple.—What you say now? Are you infur a The boys, in short, became noisy and u ‘mye she.ceuld Jook out fer herself, But when = a 4 enous half-dead she’s awkward to eva dle” ' «i. slight stir, as if in answer to his words, "hack place in the bottom of the boat. It was NS eee ee ee ee eee night oft?” ** You bet we are.” ‘*Then let’s sailin. I’m a moneyed Ege tion, and I’m straight on’t fer a lark. t's take in the Blue Bell Varieties. It’s a boss show. roarious as the strong drink got into their brains. They laughed, clapped and roared un- til they half drowned the performers. Finally Bob mounted on the front of the box, and com- menced to sing a comic song, right in the midst { Watlewed by .a Geop sigh. Some.of the highest old performers thar you of an affecting ballad by the premier tenor of | “ Where am I?’ came in a faint, but very | ever see’d.” the company. " i | Eaesival voice. This proposition was unanimously carried, This diversion was differently received b : ™ Good fer our side. She’s eum to!” cried | and the group of youthful reprobates, on their | the audience. Some laughed and applauded, if Pie. with a burst of satisfaction, ‘‘ Yer all | road to ruin,hurried with delight toward the sta- | Others hooted. Mitigat una’am. Yer jist layin’ in the bottom of | tion on the down-grade to destruction which “Go it, little one! Neck and neck! My ta keet, away out in the East river. But ye | their leader had just named. cash on the boy!” cried some. ain} drownded yit, so you needn’t be skeered.” “No boys admitted,” said the ticket-seller, as “ Kick him out! Fling the gutter-rat down A. sight cry of alarm followed. they applied at the office. Toss him over the footlights,” yelled others. q ‘Ina boat! On the river! Ob! what can it ‘Now lookee here, that cat won’t jump,” re- The other two boys, in whose veins the mn hon aeH)--.low came I here?” torted Bob, with a knowing wink. ‘We'renot | now ran riot, perched themselves beside Bob, “ Shetis~what nobody knows, ’cept them that | innocents, us fellers. We know the ropes. | and joined’in the chorus of his song, while the i fgak you here,” answered Phil. ‘Some devils | Yere’s the plunder, and jist you trot out a pri- | uproar below grew deafening. Missiles began it ‘armxei drying their prettiest to drown you, | vate box quicker’n ligbtnin’, ’Tain’t of’en ye | to fly. A half-eaten apple struck Phil squarel 4 vometyuma: “YBut,;we boys happened to be around, | gib ’ristocrats in this yere ’stablishment, and ye | in the mouth, and knocked him headlong back i aunt. areypulled jy.ou ont.” mought be proud of our comp’ny.” into the box. As for Bob, he attempted to f#mother faint cry. The woman seemed The bloated-faced fellow, who served as tick- | dodge a lager-beer glass, flung at him with a if *¢hewoughly alarmed and astounded. She made | et-seller to that delectable performance, laughed | sure aim by one of the female performers. In san “ort to. rise. at these boasting words. ; doing so he lost his unsteady footing, and top- “Sow jest. ye keep still!” cried Bob, authori- | ‘‘ Can you keep quiet, if we let you in?” pled over, falling upon the stage below. } tehsiawéiy.; *‘ Xe'll upset the boat next, and then ‘We're audyance. We ar’n’t actors,” re- But the distance was not great, and the bo i % weil all go to. kingdom come; ’cept them as kin | plied Bob. “ Be lively now. Weain’t here to | had something of the agility of the cat. e 4 sero ieic Jigt say, whar you, wants us to take ye, | mae no taffy.” landed on his feet, and half walked, balf stag- {i ~morewayrand wewe.yer horses,’ | A few minutes afterward saw the three boys | gered, to the front, where he continued his nn geen. meee = i ln “You saved me from the river? ‘arngo seeking to «drown me?” This was in a | ric t | cused from describing its crimson hangings and Some one iTaags tone of bewildered questioning. “That's hittin’ right squar’ on the head of the mana,” meylied the Dodger. perches, TL AID, andsthen say-as; what we’re “ Jist tarn.it over in * {J can not imagine, she.at;length said, as if \ solRequiming, “Sy bo Kt f Epteasee trsreit could. wish to, destroy. me. rane, aad) be. TF 7a tig in. it,” he-said to himee}f, as Barkha fre ered tatterdemalions, coatless, rag- ois ow ARO ESEENG fo MORE, PIF oy P | er Ind, CoN if yer on, it, fer a claimed Bob, as he if the narrow streets of the lower city. installed in what wes called a private box in the Blue Bell Varicties. But we must be ex- its silken upholstery, for it had uo more of either tains hanging in front formed the only effort at Yet it was superior to the rest of the estab- lishment. The Varieties, in fact, occupied the | | than has a horse-stable. Faded and tawdry cur- } | may- still rexaain in igng-| basement portion of an edifice, or rather the | cellar, being a long, underground apartment | with rough, whitewashed walls and cemen coun. only remain | floor. shallge? Tam wealthy. You shall not | ed the way up, [dares and anxious to see The seats consisted of rows of benches, / without backs; and the stage of a narrow ele- - vated platform, curtained off at one side for a dressing room; the whole affair as rude and ; well. primitive as could well be imagined, As for the audience it was in good keeping with the establishment, Such a crew of shear ristling with half-cropped beards, and ‘| bloated With bad whisky, it would have been _ | difficult.to find elsewhere. Yet mixed with these canaille were some bet- ter dressed ouditors, fast young men, out ona the depths of thea- trical écgracation: yet apparently with enongh ~< Piregot lots of cash, I have. I’m the premium | self-respect left to be ashamed of their sar- “how anillionaire, Ef yer on it, say the word, and | +. e@ make-a night of it.” r.undings. And the smell was as bad asthe sight. The nions were his frie 3 of the pre-.. smoke from strong tobacco rose in a cloud. The song. na now the uproar grew and spread until the place seemed like a Yandemonium. “Go it, gutter! Lei ler drive! Give us the next verse!” cried one party. “Fling him out the window! Mash the little Tlede Yorba; - i 2.i ; adornment, the box itself being of the plainest | hound! Comb wis hair with a brick!” roared ‘Phe lwiy Jay silent/for some time, while the | carpentry, and furnished only with some hard | the a . ' . Sant continued to progress toward the wharves, | wooden chairs. Everybody was on his feet. All were in up- roar and escitement. The performers rushed upon Bob, and kicked and cuffed him with praisewrthy energy; but the tipsy lad, while striking and clawing in return continued his song, ia such broken couplets as he was able 0 give out. Nor did the fight continue so unequal. Phil and Jake leaped down from the box, and stag- red into the midst of the fray. Some of Bob's rawny-armed partisans in the audience ng , upon the stage, and gave their powerful fists to his rescue. Mis was a strong reinforcement. The actors began to es way. But now the proprietor and ticket-seller came to their rescue, end the tide of battle was again turned. Others of the audience, on both sid sprung to the reseve, while the fi ht exten to the floor, where beer and whisky glasses came to the aid of fists in deciding the contest. A wonderful vproar for one tipsy boy to cre- ate in a minute of time. As for the boys the were in the midst of the melee, but their di- minutive size saved them from most of the blows, which passed over their heads, while they i _Yrevoom, ors 7 : while t | expedition, Jake yand Phil | fumes of bad liquor filled the room as bu continued to wrestle, kick and bite with a vigor - 2 ie vwo oh aasociahen for Roly fat they were | waiters answere ito the calls of the thirsty pe i | worthy of a better cause. = ——— a Gh» « LG) by instinct and as depraved by odu- ence. Aud over it all was that sickening scent Of the better dressed auditors some had slip-
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out at the commencement of the uproar; een stood hing and applauding the fight; while several others had purposely or inadvert- ently become mixed in it, and were king right and left with the skill of trained boxers. ‘Hold up here! I’ve been robbed!” one of these suddenly cried. ‘Stop the mill! There’s thieves about! Ive been robbed, Isay!” “And s’pose you have!” growled a stalwart fellow before him. ‘“ Ther’ ain’t no use raisin’ such a hellaballo about it. You shouldn’t been sich an idyot to fetch money inter a hell-hole like this.” “You've got it yourself! It was you that grappled me!” cried the youth. “T have, hey? Jist come and take it, then. Square yerself now. I don’t let no counter- jumper call me thief, and I’m goin’ to bu’st you. But the young man’s cries, joined to the pre- vious uproar, caused a new diversion. Heavy steps sounded without. The door flew open and the light flashed on brazen stars. ‘** The police! the police!” was the ery, and at once the fight broke up into an effort to escape the participants looking wildly to the right and left, like caged hounds. As for the actors they ran back into their dressing room, from which a flight of stairs led to the upper portion of the building. The boys, and those o poe sought to follow, but the door was shut and locked, and they were all forced back. Meanwhile the robbed —_ kept up his cries, and the two officers who had entered laid bands on the man whom he accused, paying no atten- tion to the remainder of the audience, who were far too numerous for them to handle. These took advantage of this opportunity to rei ere any reinforcements should tee 9 ee ‘“ What do you accuse this man of?” asked one of the offieers. ‘* He bas stolen my pocket-book! It had over twenty dollars in it! He grappled me in the | fight, and robbed me!” ‘* Yer a derned liar,” growled the fellow who stood perfectly quiet. ‘‘ I was jist lookin’ on and hed nothin’ to do with the muss. Efany of you gen’lemen kin find a pocket-book about me, Til knuckle down. Ain’t seen twenty dollars for twenty weeks.” His declaration was followed by a loud cry from another quarter. ‘**T’ve been robbed too! I’ve been robbed too! AH my money’s gone!” It was the voice of Bob Rockett. *“You been robbed!” growled the second po- liceman, looking at the ragged boy witha cynical smile. What of, I’d like to know? If they stole the whole of you they wouldn’t get much for their trouble.” ‘“‘That’s the rat as raised the muss,” remarked the peg “Him? That boy? Stand still, then, my lit- tle chap. Tl attend to you after a while.’ ‘“*T’ve been robbed, I say!” yelled Bob. “There goes the chap as went through me, Yonder he slides outer the door now. Stop thief! Stop thief!” Unheeding the injunction of the policeman, Bob ran hastily after ‘the imaginary thief, fol- lowed by the other boys. In a minute he had disappeared, leaving the policemen with their captive, ut the fellow seemed to have told the truth. They searched him in vain. There was no mon- ey to be found on him. ‘*T told ye I weren’t no thief,” he bled. ** At any rate you were in that riot. The rest og pane, go but we will lock you up, any- ow, Meanwhile the boys had gained the street, and put some distance between them and the door of the Varieties. ‘* Where’s the fellow you were after, Bob?” asked Phil. “Feller be shot!” ejaculated Boh. ‘Sold ou, too, then, did I, as well as the peelers?” “And what was all that fuss about?” ‘**Cause I wanted to git safe outer the door.” | Bob Rockett, the Boy = os oma | the audience who were on the | | out late, ain t | Dodger. = The tipsy young vagabond, having thus taken | book?— And money in it—ten—twenty—twemiy- ; two dollars!” his second lesson in theft, staggered off, follow- ed by his two tipsy companions, leaving an in- nocent vietim to suffer for his crime. CHAPTER VL A HOUSE-W ARMING. Tr was the moring after the events described in the last chapter. In a meanly-furnished and indescribably soiled apartment in the tenement- house mentioned in our first chapter, were two persons, a man and a woman. The first of these was a stalwart, hard-faced individual, with a skin like hment, and a face marked with the unmi ble signs of intemperance. His He extended the bank notes, and looked wit: a peculiar expression into the sheepish face ««! his son. With a sudden movement Mr. Roehkext. gras the boy’s collar again and inserted tus: hand in his pockets. It came out with maom bank notes grasped between the fingers. He stood erect, holding out his two harms. with the money, and casting a look upom Bi . intended to be of withering severity. “So!” he at length ejaculated. ‘“‘ It’s come te: this, hey? Look here, mother! Thievin’! Wer fine boy’s thievin’! Oh, that I should ever lived to see the day!—Where did it ever come from. features were a matured copy of those of Bob | you owdacious villain?” Rockett. The poor mother was crouched down, with ee half-brokew: He seemed in a state of feverish impatience, | her apron to her eyes, her poor soul springing up frequently from his chair behind the stove, and striding angrily across the room, while he caused to whistle through the air a stout leathern strap which he grasped firmly in melas his top-knot!” h led ‘* Blast his youn not!” he growled. ‘*Oh, won’t I salt hit 1? ~ ‘* Now don’t be too hard on the boy, Jacob,” pleaded the woman, a slender, shrinking, red- eyed creature. ‘“‘The poor dear don’t have much amusement; and I suppose he’s forgot rgot! has he?’ snapped the man. “T’ll help his memory then, the sneaking young ter- rier. At this moment the door slowly opened, and Bob Rockett entered, with a hesitating step. His eyes had a bleared look, and there were patches of dried blood upon his face, remnants of the recent battle. The father stood erect confronting him, his hand behind bis back, a look of enforced gravity upon his face. ‘*Hain’t breakfass near ready, mom?” asked the boy, with assumed carelessness. ‘‘ I’m hun- ‘Hungry, Paka gasped the father. ‘ Been e ‘*Yes. Got locked out, dad.” Bob stuck his hands in bis pockets and whistled a bar of mu- sic. ‘‘ Had to bunk on a dry goods box.” (Still | how late—” whistling.) ‘‘ Lock up this ’stablishment mighty | exh reakfass most ready, mom?” ‘it will be very soon, dear,” replied his mo- | ther, her eyes resting with a frightened look up- | on the erect, stern-faced man. “Tt’s ready now. Cooked and ’bout to be sarved up,” said the father, grimly. ‘‘ Take off that coat,” “What fer? I ain’t cold, dad.” ‘Guess you want a warmin’,” was the grim reply. “Off with it now!” Vith remarkable deliberation, Bob removed the coat, his eyes fixed warily upon his paternal parent. In an instant the latter sprung forward, the enforced eae of his face replaced by a flush of rage. izing the unresisting boy by the col- lar, he jerked his other hand from behind his back, and brought the stout strap, with a whis- tling thud, u his errant son’s back. And now there was a scene of old-fashioned paternal chastisement. Bob made no effort to escape, as his father dragged him Meiapee about the room, continuing to use the strap wit all the force of his vigorous arm, and accompa- nyse the blows with very earnest expressions t) Stes Sout alt ight, will hang-dog? ‘Stay out all n you, you hang-dog? —Come home drank, eh, you villain?—A pretty example yer settin’, ain’t ye now’—After all my efforts-to fetch you up decent!—I’ll take it out of you or Ill murder you.—Thought you’d play innercent on yer old father, did you hey?" Bob evidently had steeled hiniself for the in- evitable. He said nothing, and gave no ex- pression of but his face assumed a hard, stolid look w showed that the whipping was not producing the desired effect upon his con- science. Mrs. Rockett stood apart, wringing her hands, and shuddering at every blow as if she herself by the thought. ‘*1 dunno,” answered Bob, doggedly. **Don’t know, eh? It come inter yer pocket itself, I s’pose?” ‘*Guess somebody stuck it thar,” persisted tie: boy. Ry see how it is. You want a little mare strap—Ha! what’s that? Somebody eomin’ here? Git into bed instantly, you reprokete. It’s after you he is.” Kicking the strap and the empty pocket-beeds: aside. Mr. Rockett crushed the money hastily into his pockets, as he turned to face the door, em. which, at that moment, there came a, shary. = ob had obeyed orders, and instantly shiz : under the oven of a narrow bed, that Be 03 one side of the room. ** Come in,” said Mr. Rockett. The door opened and a young man entered, at clerkly-looking youth. “Here I am again after the boy,” he mn- nounced. ‘ There is his machine standing id&: these two days, and the work Made, a Bir. Jones says that he will discharge him if he dve: not come to work at once.” It was remarkable what a change had ecumer. upon Mr. Rockett’s face. A look of ility an! of deprecation had replaced its stern indiguu- tion. He twisted his hard features into am ex:. pression of alarm as he replied to the youth, ‘“*T am ever so wat f but the lad has been fm e: dangerous state, on’t you explain te Mr. Jones? The doctor says he’s afeared it’s a fewer. He’s left some drops which he thinks will breed: it, and I'll send the boy ‘round this very day it. he’s only able.” ‘* Sick,” replied the youth doubtingly. “Mee sick in the streets, is he? I was here y : and he was not in sight.” “That must have been when he went fer thx: doctor,” explained Mr, Rockett. “ You see, Penns: at work and the poor lad had to go himself! though he could hardly drag one foot after another. He’s in. bed now, tremblin’ like a leaf. Look at he is!” It was not exactly pallor that marked Batt Rockett’s face, though it was covered up tam closely for the messenger to have a fair view et beg dear, am is face how pale. . it. “*How do you feel now, my boy?’ asked. tite: father, with a great show of anxiety. ‘““Very weak and shivering,” groaned Bot, from under his coverings. “You see, sir. Maybe the drops will : him round. But I know Mr. Jones would%: ask a boy to work when he’s too sick to be om of bed.” “He must get around soon then,” answere#i: the youth, alittle suspiciously. ‘‘ Our machines can’t stand idle.” Turning on his heels he left the room, witheus) another word. Mr. Rockett looked at the closed door for a. minute. He then turned his eyes upom hie worthy offspring. The old expression eam. back upon his face. z “That’s what’s come to the Rock * Taw “One of the ’spectable fam’ties imtie. eountry. All through a thievin’ boy. Hes. made his poor father a liar, when he was al- ‘Then why didn’t you git out, same as the | had received it. lers brung = to a the truth,— Git up, ; others?” | “Won't that do now, Jacob?” she pleaded. | hound!” with a sudden outburst of anger. ot tee “Was afeared I’d be stopped. Look yere! | ‘He didn’t go to do it, 1 know.” time you was gettin’ them drops which the duc> - Ye won't say nothin’?” ‘Nary word.” ** Then squint at this.” ; ' He revealed, half-covered in his hand, the leather back of a small pocket-book. ‘The young chap must have dropped it,” he a | a} Erie not, . ‘* All accerdent, of course. y I don’t approve of accerdents. pole ist altogether too much given to accer- en He shook the boy to remind him that ac- cidents were not to be permitted in well-reg- tiously said. nabbed it under a bench. | ulated families. The vigorous shake had an High old fun, boys, The peelers will tote that | une effect. An object fell from Bob’s galoot off fer the thief, the young feol will | pecket on which his father mstantly pounced. whistle for his cash, and we'll have the fun eut| “ What's this?” he cried. ‘A pocket-book, of it, you bet,” hey? Where the blazes did you git a pocket- tor’s left fer you.” He whirled the strap, which he had agaim.. picked up, significantly in the air. “Guess I've had ‘nough drops fer to-day. dad,’ replied Bob. “Best gin me that amet, . and le’ me take it hack to the chap as stuel it in my pocket, cause he was afeared he moughkt lose it.” ; “Listen to his owdacious lies!” and Miz: Rockett held uphis bands inhorrer. “ Pl tee: care of thatcash, bey. Just refer that youugy.. -
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eS . —— tome. You mought git robbed, you -kmow, with so much money in yer pocket.— “Suess you best give the boy some breakfast, tmoether,” in a mollified tone, ‘‘ He’s most con- walescent.” Bat we must leave this domestic scene to leek after the welfare of Grace Garland, the young lady so fortunately rescued from drown- cing, and concerning whom the reader may feel uterested. We find her again in a poorly-furnished but wWeanly room, neatly carpeted, and showing signs of careful housekeeping. In it moves ‘risidy around a middle-aged, but sprightly and well-preserved little woman, with a face full of ‘Mndness and sympathy. Ina rocking-chair near the window sits Miss Warland. She has recovered her color, and wresents a strikingly beautiful face, full of youth, modesty and earnestness. She is dressed ma plain traveling costume, as if she had been wa the point of making a journey when borne 3 her attempted death. _**Y¥ know I am ever so happy to have you ero,” affirmed the littl woman, in pursuance .® conversation. ‘‘ You are not the least bit wf trouble to me; and J am glad the boys could ‘wihiek of no better place to bring you.” “J shall not soon forget your kindness, Mrs. ex,” replied the musical voice of the young isty. “* You and your son have made martyrs «f yourselves in my service. —It is all sostrange,” “x4 continued, ‘‘ fhe news from the West, the ¥ort to drown me, my fortunate rescue, and | xow the answer to my telegram, that my fa- . “Wher is perfectly well and that he sent no such message as that I received. What to make of itall I do not know. It seems like a plan to raurder me; but who, who could be so base? $Who could so hate me as to wish to destroy me?” ‘Her face was full of intense reflection. , “Some desperate villain, that is sure,” said Who little woman, energetically. ir conversation was interrupted by the wpening of the door, and the entrance of the *% ll handsome boy who had had the fight with ‘ob Rockett a few nights previous. “Ta school out already, Paul?’ asked his mo- “®»ar, looking with pride on her son. “Yes, mother. And I have something of in- terest for Miss Garland. I have the morning fiarald here, and it has the strangest advertise- ment in it. It must mean her.” The young lady’s eyes were lifted with a sud- afvn flesh. i hing about me, Paul?’ and an eager jook came upon her face. “Yes. A notice of a strange disappearance. 4 <All read it.” Mrs. Essex stood resting on her fork as ona ‘nave, her eyes full of excited curiosity; while ner guest balf-raised herself from the chair, wexiting with earnest interest for Paul’s com- munication. “ Mysrerious DisAPPEARANCE!”’ heread. ‘ A very #trnage affair has just come to light, affecting one of the wealthiest and most fashionable of our fami- ‘es. A beautiful young lady, the daughter of a prominent merchant, has suddenly disappeared, and mo trace remains of her whereabouts. But the most surprising part of the affair is that her disap- ance seems in consequence of a concerted plot. received a telegraphic message detailing the gudden death of her father, who is now in Louis- wille, Kentucky; immediately after which she took a westward-bound train on the Erie road. Since that moment all trace of her has been lost. Further mes- gages prove that her father is perfectly well, and no one knows the origen of the false telegram. Every a@tation on the road has been communicated with, ana the conductors been put on the look-out, but no gach person appears to be on the trains, or to have left at any station, so far as can be ascertained. *Dhis matter wears a most serious look, The police we seeking clews in all directions, and a reward has beor offered for any information, but as yet all is im Goubt. The family has been plunged into the : deepest distress. Bilence followed the reading of the news- ‘paper notice, ‘ Fortunately have written to my father, ad- ~vising him that all is well,” said Miss Garland, ever whose speaking features conflicting emo- tions had passed. “ But who has offered a re- ward for my discovery?” sielae perth age been looking over the re- ma pages of the paper. “Hero it is,” he said. ‘One thousand dol- Jars fer any clew to your whereabouts. Five Vhousand fer your recovery. I hope Reckett and none of his party will see that, or I ea afraid you would have to offer them more “#0 hold their tongues.” _ “Let me see it!” she exclaimed, excitedly. “is it signed by any name?” that Bob | “Yes. George Delorme.” “ Ah!” This was half a sigh, half an exclamation. She sat in silence, ho the paper listless] in her hand, while a precy Teg Sore deme ed her face. Her expression was tical. Paul and his mother looked at her in silence, not knowing what to make of this strange dis- play of feeling. veral minutes passed before she lifted the paper to read the advertisement; but they seemed minutes of intense thought, CHAPTER VII. THE ART OF THE SIREN. We must return to the boudoir of Marie Ormiston. It remains precisely as we saw it in our previous visit; its young ady gocngens re- clining in the same listless way upon the sofa, engaged in reading a novel of seemingly intense interest. After a few minutes, however, her hand dropped to her side, as if other thoughts had crossed the current of her book. She lay witk her eyes fixed steadily upon the opposite wall, a peculiar luster burning in their depths, as glit- tering as that of the tiger before its leap. ‘* My path is clear,” she muttered. ‘‘ She no longer maddens me with her hateful beauty, or rends from me him for whom my whole soul burns. Ah, my love! my love! mine you shall be, despite this siren who has so long enchanted you. Delorme, my love! my love!” Flinging the book fiercely from her, she rose and walked the room with a step of feverish impatience, a gleam of triumph and passion in her eyes. ‘‘My emissaries have faithfully performed their work,” she exclaimed. ‘She is gone, gone! No trace remains. The hungry sea has swallowed her, and she will never cross my path again. But canI trust them? Yet they know me not. I was too sbrewd to let myself. be known to these base cut-throats. And if they did they are too deeply involved themselves, that I should fear them.” She seated herself and picked up her book, seeking to take up again the train of the story. But after a minute she crushed! it fiercely in her hands. “Tt is too tame, too tame to fit my fiery soul! I am myself living out a story tenfold more intense than this idle tale. But he? He has re- turned, Why is he not here?” Five minutes passed. She sat still absorbed in passionate reflection, an intense fire burning in her brilliant black eyes. At the endjof that time her reverie was broken by a rap upon the door. She sprung hastily from her seat, drew her hand over her face as if she would brush from it every trace of these forbidden Cape and turned toward the door, resting her d upon the back of the chair. ‘* Who is there?” she asked. The door opened and a servant appeared, “Mr. Delorme,” was announced. “Delorme! Show him up instantly!’ her voice full of unrepressed eagerness. As the young man entered the room with a very sad look in his eyes, she stepped hastily for- ward, grasped his arm with her two hands, and bent her dark orbs earnestly upon his face. “Tell me the worst!” she exclaimed. ‘‘ But I have beard all. You return unsuccessful. Dear, poor Grace has not been found!” ‘‘She has not been found,” he echoed, falling into a chair, and drawing his hand hastily across his saddened eyes. ‘“‘But, George—Mr. Delorme—excuse my thoughtless: haste. But what do you think? What do you fear? Ob! do not say that any- thing serious, anything dreadful has happen- ed! She stood before him, bending in her assumed feeling until her warm face almost touched his, her fragrant breath stirred his drooping locks. It was like a vision of luxuriant youth forced upon his drooping eyes. He could not, but feel the sense of her rich, fervent beauty. _ “T know not what to think,” he said, ‘“T fear the worst. Yet she could have had no enemies. Who then have deceived her, and stolen her from us? And for what? Is it for ransom, or for some more dreadful fate?” With a face full of assumed feeling Marie drew a chair beside his, and seated herself so that be could not but look upon the impassioned bloom of her loveliness. ‘Tt is indeed too terrible to think of,” she murmured, “ But, eovege~-serante my famili- arity, but I feel so near to you at this moment —that you will do all that man can do, I know. And I will aid you to the extent of my weak power. Wecan dono more, If she be lost be- Bob Rockett, the Boy Dodger. yond recovery we can but weep for her togeth- er. She had caught his hand between both of hers, and pressed it as with unthinking fervor, while her bright, suffused eyes were ou his with an expression that seemed but pain and sympathetic pone g yet which stirned him as no mere look of grief could have done. “Marie,” he said, lifting his eyes with a quick gleam to her flushing face, while his free hand caught hers in an earnest clasp. ‘'Thanks for this warm sympathy. I knew that you were a friend of Grace. But that you loved her thus—” ‘*Who could but love her?’ she hastily inter- rupted. “Tam not demonstrative, as you know; but yet I can love deeply and purely,” _ Not demonstrative! And yet her whole be- ing was burning upon his, with a fervor illy concealed by her assumed grief, and which a.i- fected him more strangely and deeply than he could have deemed possible, so soon after the loss of his betrothed. Yet he was a man, young and warm-hearted, and it was not easy to withstand the electric touch of those clasp- ing hands, the warm flush of that impassioned face, the fragrance of that perfumed breath. The cunning siren had almost taken him cap- tive in the first rebound from the deep grief which had overwhelmed him for days, His eyes, too, began to kindle with another feeling than sorrow. It was very sweet to be consoled by such a voice, and in such a way, For half an hour they sat thus, conversing in murmuring tones, their subject still being that of their mutual loss, but their hands clasped, their eyes reading each other’s depths, their faces very close together. A sigh came from his lips as he at length broke from his temporary enchantment. “T must go now,” he said. ‘‘ What to do next I know not. Every possible measure has been taken. The police warned. A large re- ward offered.” ‘‘ A large reward?” her lips were opened with an instantaneous sense of fear. “Yes. Five thousand dollars. I hope it may prove successful.” ‘‘T hope so indeed! Good-by. Good-by— George. Don’t fail to return soon. I must know all, and at once.” ‘*-You shall,” he replied, pressing her hand with undue warmth, She stood and looked at the closed door, a strange smile slowly breaking upon her face, a smile of triumph and passion, of burning hope and of flushing delight. She fell bac gn into her chair, her eyes” still fixed upon the door, while the smile be- came a laugh that rung strangely through that silent room. ““Caught at last!” she cried triumphantly. ‘*Tiimed! Caged! He is in the circle of my en- chantments, and he shall not escape me again! Oh, if I dared tell him how I love him, with what hot fervor my soul burns for him! But that time will come. I have taken the first step. I must move with infinite caution, lest my bird break his fetters ere I have him fully en- chained.” There seemed, indeed, something of the ti- gress in that beautiful woman, as she sat thus with her whole face alive with a passion too fierce for civilized souls. She seemed as if born in the depths of the tameless forest, where pas- sion is free, and love is that of the strongest. But a new look came upon her face, a quick shudder as of fear. ‘*A reward!” she muttered, with a dark look. ‘*Can they dare prove false? They know my face, though not my residence. They may seek me,—Yet I fear them not. They are involved as deeply asI. They dare not betray me!” And the haughty pride of a daring soul arose in the strong lines of her face, But we must leave her to her unholy hopes and fears, and seek some of the younger characters of our story. It is mid-afternoon that we find Bob Rockett, with his two comrades of the night’s carouse, seated upon a heap of stones, near one of the East river wharves. They all three look the worse for wear, their faces still showing marks of the beating they received, and of the nerve- yer ia | liquor they drank. “You didn’t go to work to-day, Bob,” said “To work? Not much, Old Jones sent fer me, but the guv’ner covered me up, and I played off sick.— Nor I weren’t none too well neither.” ‘‘T know I was sick as a horse,” ejaculated Jake. ‘‘ You don’t catch me swallowing no more whisky.”
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— Bob laughed sneeringly. “ Ain’t got yer edidication yit, boy. Blazes, ‘Nore yer’ ten years older you kin carry a pint without a stagger. But, fellers, did ye git any teach of Ballysnoogin?”’ The two boys remained quiet, with a look of shame upon their faces. ‘Ye jist mought as wellown up. I cotched ikler, thunder, I did.. Tbe boss was waitin’ er me with a strap; and didn’t he whale me? Well, maybe he duda’t,” and Bob rubbed his back witha comical grimace. ‘‘Vd thought you’d kick ag‘in’)it,” said Phil, with some disdain. ‘Kick ag’in’ it? Kick a’gin’ the guv’ner?— Well, l- dunno what kind o’ dads you cuaps is got. Why, blazes, boys, he’d mash me inter iince-meat if I kicked. ~ I jist take it, that’s all. Vil be older some of these days,” and a wicked look came into his ayer ‘“*[ ain’t got no dad, you know,” remarked Phil. ‘‘ And mother’s kind of easy, She thought I was took sick and couldn’t git home.” ‘‘My dad was off to work ’fore I got home,” said Jake. ‘Til salt him up that they kept me at work in the bakery all night. He takes things in easy. ‘Bub suppose he asks for your night’s wa- es?’ suggested Phil. ‘* We'll settle that out of our divvies. Ain’t it *bout time you was a-splittin’ up that pocket- book, Beb? * j’m afeared you'll have to goax Dad Rockett fer that,” said Bob with a groan. ‘‘ He jist shook me inside out, and nabbed the cash. e’s goin’ to take it back to the young feller, ‘ye know—the young feller as keeps the gin-mill down in Shady alley.” A look of dissatisfaction came upon the faces of the others. ‘‘ Look here, Bob, that cat won’t jump.” ‘*Can’t stuff taffy down our throats.’ “Go and ask dad, then, if you don’t believe me,” said Bob, earnestly. ‘* Now, come, shell out.” ‘See here, boys, it’s gone and ther’s no use whistlin’.. [’m goin’ through his pockets if I git a chance, cause he hadn’t no right to rob me. But if he cotches me at it, oh, Moses! won’t he wrastle me! But I'll tell you what it is, lads, ther’s somethin’ in the wind that’s ten times bet- ter nor that.” ‘* What isit?’ doubtingly. 6a We ain’t seen the pe of that lady’s money Ss a “It’s all promise, and promises don’t butter nO ips fer me, If she ain’t a-goin’ to pay us [ll find out who will. Ther’s somebod somewhar as wants her out o’ the way, and’ pony up rich to find out all we know.” ‘**Do you want to sell her back to them mur- derers, Bob Rockett?’ cried Phil, with a voice full of indignation. ‘*T ain’t goin’ to snatch young wimmen outer the river fer nothin’,” said Bob, doggedly. oh ares got to pony up, or Ill find opt who will. “Do you know what you are?” exclaimed Phil, with fierce disgust. ‘* Yow’re a derned young robber and liar, And now you want to turn traitor, too. You’ve got that money in your pocket now, and if you don’t pony up ake and me’s just the chaps to leather it out of ou. “You will? You?’ cried Bob, springing to his feet, and doubling his fists. ‘‘ You'll lick me, hey? Come ahead, then! Are you in it, Jake?” ‘You bet I am,” “Sail in then, the pair of you! Ye’r’ infernal cowards and skunks anyhow, and if I don’t lather you both ther’s no snakes,”’ His two angry comrades had risen and con- fronted him, but before they could strike a blow, or were quite ready for the fray, Bob jtook Phil between the eyes with a sharp stroke of his left hand. The unprepared boy was toppled over head- long on the heap of stones. ‘“There’s your gravy! Square yerself, Jake, fer I’m agoin’ to polish ye.” Jake was nearer his match in size, and for a jminute there was a sharp exchange of blows, without advantage to either. And now Phil, who had instantly regained his feet, joined the fight, and the b found him- self confronted by two, who were likely to give him more work than he bargainedfor. He was their superior, however, in skill and Cae, — punished them quite as much as they di The fra : went on thus for several minutes without Vantage on either side. But Bob was only waiting for his opportunity, Suddenly he Bobd Rockett, the Boy Dodger. + stooped and caught Jake with a wrestiler’s hold around the legs, Rising with a quick strong lift, the unwary boy. was raised from his feet, and flung, with stunning force, upon the rough heap of stones. : nheeding a kick in the face from Phil dur- ing this movement, Bob rose again ond. sresped his remaining autagonist around the body. A moment’s tussling and staggering over the uneven. ground, and then Phil, who was no match for his stronger foe in a hand-to-hand contest, was flung violently. down, upon the body of his prostrate ally. But the battle was not over yet. Bob Rockett was cruel and pitiless by nature, and when once the savage in him was aroused he bad all the instinet of the wild beast, to tear and rend his prey. He flung himself upon the two defeated boys. kicking and pummeling them savagely, until their clothes were torn into rags and the blood flowing in streams from their faces. To what lengths the human tiger cub would have gone in this merciless rending of his prey it is difficult to tell, Fortunately for the others some passers-by ran up and tore him from off their prostrate bodies, fa kicking, swearing, and yelling with the uncontrollable fury of a young fiend. -—----- CHAPTER VIII. BOB ROCKETT TAKES A RESOLUTION. Ir was in a nail and rivet making establish- ment that the promising youth, Bob Rockett was employed. In fact, he was one of the chie supports of the Rockett family, for the worthy head of the household was by no means given to steady labor, and expevded much of his surplus energy in keeping bis son to his work. his honest gentleman was, just now, waiting a claimant for the money he had recovered from his dishonest son, anc oaning in spirit to think that his system of bringing up children had not had a better effect. But as he waited in one of those interesting establishments vulgarly called a ‘ whisky mill,” and solaced his conscience with a drink between every two ns, there was danger of being a serious fall in the funds unless the unlucky loser should call very soon. Old Rockett had an extraordinary power of ab- sorbing whisky without visible effect, a faculty in which he seemed likely to be emulated, in time, by his worthy son, who, as we have seen, had already begun to take lessons in the art. On the morning in which we again seek this youwhtat reprobate the nail factory was a per- ect sea of rattling, clinking and clashing no the roar of the pulleys and the sharp thunder o dozens of noisy machines filling the air with their uproar, Bob was at a great revolving grindstone, busily engaged in sharpening a long steel tool, from which a shower of flashing sparks flew as he pressed it heavily upon the stone. His thoughts took flight with the sparks, and were far away from the labor in which his hands were engaged. “Tt’s derned hard that a feller of my talent is got to grind his nose out over an old stone like this, and jist to keep his dad in whisky money,” he muttered. ‘I don’t calk’late as I’m lazy; only I’m a-sp’ilin’ here, that’sall. I weren’t got up fer a rivet-scraper.” Buzz went the stone, and away flew the sparks, carrying his thoughts into a new vein. | * That gal hain’t forked up wuth a cent,” he continued, ‘‘I b’lieve to thunder that Paul’s goin’ back on us, arter our lettin’ him in fer snacks in our game. Had to take her thar, that’s the wust of it. Couldn’t fotch her where dad Rock- ett was, he’s sich derned onpleasant comp’ny fer young ladies.” ‘* What are you at there, boy?” came a sharp enn: ‘* You are grinding the bevel out of that “All right,” answered Bob coolly. “That old bevel was played out. I’m going to dig a new one in t’other side.” ‘That to thunder!” cried the foreman. ‘‘ We cannot have steel wasted at that rate. Give me the tool.” Handing it to bim, Bob stood aside, with his in his cheek and his hands in his pocket, watching the foreman at his labor. “See here,” said the latter. ‘‘ This is the way tohold it. Pve told you often enough before. Lift the handle this way, and don’t bear too hard on the stone. Do you see?” “Go ahead. Let’s see it out,” replied Bob, with cool impudence. The man looked up sharply, but the boy was regarding him with a display of close attention that disarmed his suspicions, 9 Poi me,” he growled. ‘‘That is if you don’t want your ears warmed with the hand!e of the toul.. Here it is now. I have too much else on hand to do your work for you.” There was a mocking smile on the boy’s face as he received the tool, ‘* Much obliged,” he said, with a great show of politeness. ‘‘ A lesson once ina while does the smartest feller good.” The foreman again looked round suspiciously, not quite sure but that Bob was cha him. But the boy was going so soberly to work that the man turned away. ‘‘T can never make out whether that chap is knave or fool,” he said to himself. ‘‘ ll have to ive him a settler on the knowledge-box some y yet, to find out. He looks to me to have the making of an infernal reprobate in him.” “* Jist let’s see you try the tool handle on my ears,” Bob was saying. ‘‘ Ye mought wake up the wrong coon. I’m afeared ther’s goin’ to be a tearin’ down row in these diggin’s some day not fur off. Lain’t goin’ to be sot down on, by no six foot rule, like that ther’ foreman.” The sparks. were again flying from his tool. In a minute more his thoughts had taken flight after them again. ‘“Ef the gal don’t fork over ther’s them as will,” he said to himself, with a grim setting of hislips. ‘‘I ain't goin’ to risk my life in cold water fer nothin’, Ef I kin on’y lay hands on them as tried to put her outer the way! Them’s the ones as’d shell out.—Tain’t me doin’ noth- in’, Gotaright to give a little hint, I s’pose. Ther’ ain’t no law- breakin’ in that. It’s fer her to take care of herself. I’ve done my sheer, and I ain’t bound to keep no secrets.” Revolving such dark thoughts in his young brain, the evil-souled boy took the sharp instru- ment from the stone, feeling its keen edge with a look of evigmatical character. Some might have called it reflective. Some would have called it devilish. With a lag ing step he walked toward the machine on which he was engaged. This was a lathe for Spesbing. the heads of the finer rivets, ths sharp edge of the steel tool cutting away the rough iron with as much ease as though it had been cheese, instead of hard metal. One by one they fell, with glittering and polished heads, with that marvelous rapidity which alone enables trade to supply the growing wants of the world. And all around the dashing and clashing of iron lips and iron jaws went on, the pulleys and belting rattled and whirled, grimy-faced men darted to and fro, in seeming confusion, yet each as sure in his movements as any of those multitudinous wheels, And behind them all the great engine throbbed and whirled its breath rising into the frosty air in rings of steam, shot in successive puffs from iron lips. is was the home of honest industry. It must be evident to our readers that Bob Reckett was not at home in any such locality. He was on the downward track that leads from honesty into crime, and his vagrant instincts were likely soon to lead him into haunts of more congenial labor, despite the terror of that paternal strap, or the influence of the paternal example,—Dad Rockett’s traditional idea that he was leading the boy into the paths which he should tread, and setting him a shining example of honesty, in- dustry and sobriety. ‘*Ef I could on’y track ’em,” he continued to himself. ‘‘There’s a good show somewhere bere, and I ain’t goin’ to let it slide through my fin- gers without it’s leavin’ somethin’ to stick there. Sich chances ain’t flung at a chap’s head every day.” The day don. Evening came, and with it the boy’s release from his labor. But the day had not passed by without his making up his mind on various points, which he now proceed- ed to put into effect. » A portion of this programme was a visit to Miss Garland. Bob wanted to see what chance there was for reward in that quarter, before acting elsewhere. Mrs. Essex lost countenance for an instant on seeing Bob Rock- ett enter, with scant dngpne & er humble home. She did not like him, and feare1 his in- fluence over Paul. But Miss Garland saw him with different emo- the pleasant expression of her _ ons. “ y, young friend!” she said, with much feel- ing. ‘‘To whom I owe my life! I hope to re- pay, if I ever can repay such a service. She grasped the boy’s hand in a warm pres- sure, unheeding the lowering expression which dwelt upon his unprepossessin e. **T s’pose so,” he curtly said, pirve himself “You're a smart one, maybe, but don’t try it | with easy assurance.
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10 Bob Rockett, the Boy Dodger. “My father is wealthy,” she continued. ‘As soon as he has returned, and the object of my concealment is gained, will see that you are remem) ‘*T remember a good many folks,” he replied “and I don’t know as they're much better off for it. Some of ’em I remember to gi’n ’em a beatin’ the next time I run afoul of ’m. So re- membering ain’t of no extra ’count in these eal iss Garland smiled, though it was evident she did not like the boy’s tone. “‘How would you like to be remembered?” she _— ° : 3 1 “In any ’spectable way. en ae is ae convenyent ate f our way, if on’y my old dad don’t git his ten fingers on’t. Or a chap bes ie be sot up in some sort 0’ bizness.” “T shall not forget,” she repeated, with a grave face, Yet it was evident that he was rapidly canceling her debt of gratitude. b sat for several minutes in complete si- lence, his face dark and lowering. Miss Garland looked at him in surprise. What did he want? Was he waiting for her to name some definite sum at which to value his services? She was puzzled. She was more so when the boy suddenly rose, firmly setting on his head the cap he had so far held in his hand. He walked to the door. “You aren’t going?” asked Mrs. Essex, in sur- prise at his manner. “T reekon so,” he gruffly replied, as he left the room. ‘‘ She’s a-playin’ with me,” he said to himself, on getting outside. ‘ All right, my lady, ther’s them as’ll come more to the p’int. And ma goin’ fer ’em too, if ther’s any findin’ ’em.” “What is the matter with the boy?’ asked Mrs. Essex, looking after him in surprise. *“T do not understand his behavior,” replied Miss Garland. ‘And 1 certainly do not like his face. Can he know anything? Can he have : seen that offer of reward? Perhaps he is trying to discover which is likely to be most profitable, to aid or to betray me.” ‘Him? He’s the rascalliest young scallawa in this part of New York,” said Mrs. Essex wit energy. ‘‘ He did you a good turn, that’s sure, but he’d just as lieve have done you a bad one. However, I’ll sot Paul at him. He will find out what the little scapegrace is after.” At this moment Paul entered the room, fol- lowed almost immediately by a sturdily-formed, well-dressed person, with a quiet, self-possessed, but very keen face. Miss Garland raised her eyes with a gleam of expectation. ** Any news?” she asked. “We have found no clew as yet,” replied this rson. ‘‘ But there is something which may ead to aclew. You say that you can imagine no possible reason why you should have been assaulted.” ‘¢ None whatever,” she replied. “This gentleman who offers the reward, this Mr. George Delorme. Excuse me for asking if he bore any intimate relation to you?” A faint color came into her face. Her eyes ell. ‘‘ The relation of lover,” she said, in a low tone. ‘¢ And Miss Marie Ormiston, who was last with ou on that day. Did any close friendship exist tween her and Mr. Delorme?” ‘*No,” decidedly. ‘‘ They were acquaintances merely.” “ Have you no reason to think that she may mae fait a deeper a in him ” ae no,” in great surprise, ‘ e alwa eteunea' 1 me very indifferent.” A The gentleman was silent for a minute, as if revolving these answers. “There may be a clew,” he said. “Ah! What do you mean? Why have you asked such strange questions?” 5 use a very strong intimacy has arisen between Mr. Delorme and Miss Ormiston. I would not be giving it too strong a title to call it love, Sean some remarkable evidence of it, of which I have learned.” Garland’s face grew white; her breath came and went in quick aspirations; her eyes fixed themselves with a strange look of affright upon his face. CHAPTER IX, BOB MAKES A DISCOVERY. ‘¢ Ain’t no use axin’ me when J’!l be home. T’ve told you that of’n’nough for you to goit sich nonsensical palaverin’,” and Rusty e ulled his hat down over his eyes with a dark rown, ‘‘ Hepe ye ain’t takin’ me for an eight- day clock, or a stop watch, that’s got to be tied ‘asa vag ag Rog t. ust. down to minutes and seconds? A chap never knows when he out what bizness t be kicked up afore he comes back. Jist put all that quit yer in yer rer mee it, Sal; Kicking the door open to save himself the trouble of raising the latch, Mike stalked out with a sw ring gait, his eyes glaring from under their dark ws asif in search of some one who would dare contradict the points he had just advanced. Sally turned to Beau Bink, who was stretch- ing his long limbs in his favorite corner. ‘ After more thieving, I suppose,” she said, with an accent of dissatisfaction. ‘‘ Mike’s always cross when he has a job in his eye. Between me and you I’d give something if he had an honester business.” “‘Edzactly, Mrs. Sally, edzactly,” exclaimed Beau, with great show of approbation. ‘‘I don’t approve of Mike’s line. It’s too—well, it’s too uncertain, and they’re apt to jug a person too severe when they once grab them. Now, if he’d only take up the genteel, respectable branch of the profession, like mine, It’s more high-toned, Mrs. Sally, and it’s safer; if there ain’t as big hauls in it.” Ms Why, you long-eared Jack!” cried Sally in disdain, “‘do you think I want him to give up ‘house opening and go to gag grubbing? That t would be reforming with a vengence. I’d like to see Mike an honest man, not ashamed to look any man in the face, and free from this constant skulking from the law; or the gallows, which it may come to. Why it isn’t a week since he made a big haul; a to keep him for two years to come. And yet he has made cats and dogs of the most of it already, and is in the market again.” She sighed deeply, as if she felt that hope was dead for her. “T quite with you, Mrs. Sally,” chimed in Beau, with his perpetual smirk. ‘‘ Honesty is just the best thing going. And there would be a good deal more of it afloat, only folks have to live, you know.” Sally turned away with an impatient jerk of the shoulder. Talking to Beau Bink was like talk- ing toa stream of water, that always appeared to be there yet was always slipping away from you. Yet there was another auditor to this conver- sation. The door had remained a crack open after Rusty Mike’s exit, and at this crack was an ear that had more of curiosity than of honor. ‘Made a haul ’bout a week ago, did he?” ueried Bob Rockett, the listener in question. “Yet ther’ wasn’t no talk ’bout a bu’sted crib, nor no sort o’ plunderin’. Wonder where it come from?” He pushed the door open and entered. ‘““Who’s there?” asked Sally, turning around quickly. **Tt’s only me. Bob, you know,” and the boy walked in with the easy assurance of a frequent visitor, “Well, and if it is only meI don’t know as -anybody sent you a special invitation,” answer- ed Sally sharply, her temper being anything but smooth at that minute. ‘* What’s broke loose?” asked the boy, with a laugh. “I didn’tknow as I had trod on any- body’s corns.” ‘“Tt’s Mike,” said Beau Bink, in a stage whis- per, putting his two bands to his mouth to serve ‘* He’s been kicking up a trifle of a me here, Bob, I want to chat with you a bit. ’Bout the benefits of going to school, and all that, as every boy ought to; and the ’vantages of being honest and ogee / OM Mrs. Sally’s temper did not cool very quickly, for she was of that direct nature that loves an open rogue better than a eee and au’s spasms of honesty disgus er. There was no little rattling and clicking, of chairs and dishes, as she bustled about the room, gradually wing calmer, however, as the minutes saihed cx, Beau winked to his boyish companion. “The storm’s most e down,” he wh - ed. ‘‘ Won't be long before we'll have blue skies,” With an answering wink Bob arose and ap- preached the ruffled lady of the house. “Well, I'll swan!” he cried, “if we ain’t puttin’ on airs. That’s as handsome a hanker- cher as they’ve got in Stewart’s. Where ever did you git that, Mrs. Crapper?” “J don’t know that it is any of your busi- ness,” she answered, yet a flush which came into her cheek showed that she was not quite displeased by the boy’s praise. he handkerchiet in question was a fine, laee- BR Bee edged one, which she wore tied rather careless- ly around her throat, “Tt’s a pretty one, anyhow,” he persisted, approaching and taking hold of the end of the handkerchief with the air of a connoisseur. “Have it imported, Mrs. Cra) “‘T'll have you exported, if you come with your monkey tricks around here,” said Sally, oo i “That’s a birthday present from e. ‘Birthday, eh? Mike must be gettin’ kinder eur’us. Hope he ain’t goin’ to die soon, I never see’d it afore, anyhow.” “T have only been wearing it fer a week,” was the answer. A quick flash shot from Bob’s eyes. es nr oy: %* had yer own ’nitials on’t,” he said. “G. G. don’t spell Sally Crapper. t’s a queer mistake fur Mike to make.” he snatched the handkerchief from bis grasp. « Get out, you eeepc You’re a deal too bar for a boy of your size. Take my advice and look out that that long tongue of yours never brings you into trouble.” Bob laughed recklessly. ‘Guess I’ll make tracks. Don’t see as I’m wanted yere. Good-by.” He strolled out of the room with a swagger =a seemed a close copy of that of Rusty e. Beau and Mrs. Crapper looked at each other and laughed. “We needn’t be afeared that the old stock will die out. He’s the making of a prime one, that boy,” remarked Beau. **And is taking the first steps on the high road to the gallows,” rejoined 8 iy. But a very different set of thoughts was pass- ing through Bob’s astute brain. ‘Tl bet a cow and two pigs that I’ve hit the nail squar’ on the head,” he said to himself. ‘' G. G. stands fur Grace Garland, if it don’t fit fer Sally Crapper. 1 tell you, ther’s fun in the wit Rusty Mike made a haul of cash "bout a week ago ’thout any crib cracked. Don’t I know whar it come from? Maybe I don’t then!” If we had been, an hour after the time of this scene, on a dark corner of Wall street, not touched by the moonlight which flooded the op- posite corner, we might have seen our boy again, this time in deep conversation with the very in- dividual against whom he had entertained such dark suspicions, Rusty Mike himself. The street was utterly quiet. Its daily flood- tide had long since ebbed, and only a stray and hasty step now came where a billowing surge of life flowed during the day. The two strange companions, as we have said, were in earnest conversation. ‘*S’pose I hain’t had my eye on you,boy?” re- marked Rusty Mike, energetically. ‘* You’re no slouch. There’s the makin’ of a man in you if yer well trained. But, in course, you want a bizness eddication, as everybody’s got to have what wants to make his way in the world.” “'That’s what dad says,” answered Bob. ‘‘ And I’m gettin’ one—turnin’ rivet-heads.” Mike laughed disdainfully. “T like a coon, and you’re one,” he asserted. “See here, boy, I’ve took a fancy to you, and I wouldn’t stop long takin’ youin hand. I’m the chap as’ll make a man of ye.” “In what way?” asked Bob. “Ther’s varyus ways. A boy of your size could be made mighty useful in a job that’s on hand now. Ther’s a sort of transom to slip through, and then just slide back a bit of a bolt. It’s jist as easy as kissin’ yer hand—and it'll be worth money to you, boy. More nor you’d make in a month at the factory.” *T don’t jist altogether take that in,” replied Bob, speaking very slowly and caver ‘ But it sounds to me as if ther’ was a bit of burglarin’ bizness behind it.” ‘‘ Hush, boy,” warningly. ‘Ther’ are some folks as g?ve it that name, I'll allow. But jist you be mighty keerful how you swing diction- ary words ’bout here.” ‘And so that’s what you want me fer?” ave! 4s) rere yer first lesson in eddication,” remarked Mike. “ And do ye know what dad Rockett has al- lers been a-tellin’ me?” “Blazes on dad Rockett! What’s he got to do with it?” d “He says as honesty is the best J omg and I guess it is. Lookee here, Rust; ike, yer off yer eggs with this chicken. I’m up to boy’s tricks, I s’pose, but I ain’t took to thievim’, and ain’t a-goin to. Dad Rockett’s told me too of’n where it begins, and where it ends.” ‘“‘Hesa bigh old preacher, your dad is,” re-
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Bob Rockett, the Boy D plied Mike, with a eg laugh. ‘‘ Just don’t be too smart, bey. Why, don’t you know tbat the biggest bugs in this ’ere country has been the biggest thieves? I could give ye some names as’ m yer Kp And the’r’ made as much of as if they was King George and General Wash- in rolled into one, ant b’iled. together.” ‘ But ’tain’t that way with the little thieves,” answered Bob. ‘ Ain’t dad Rockett posted me? There’s the stone jug fur them fust, aud the age ie last. That’s the reg’lar programme.— fy dad’s wide awake, now I tell you, if he does like whisky.” Dy i “That’s only for the fools,” rejoined Mike, his face darkening. ‘‘They’ve en: nabbed me once in my life. And then they didn’t keep me, A chap’s only got to be cute, and he’s all right.” The shrewd looked at him for a minute in silence, as if not knowing how best to present a matter which was weighing on his mind. ‘* Maybe so,” he said at length, in a reflective tone. ‘‘ But ther’s one p’int 1 wish you’d post me on, Mr. Crapper; ‘cause a boy can’t be ’spected to know all the ins and outs of things. S’pose a ehap as has been a burglar was to e to wuss ways; sewin’ wimmen up in bags, sa ; and rowin’ ’em out inter the river; and givin them x ‘one, two, three, and away.’ S’pose ther’ was— But Mike was upon his feet, his face pale, his eyes blazing, his fists clenched. “Dye want me to murder you, boy?” he fiercely hissed. “If ye’r’ tryin’ to hint that— But blurt it out now. Let’s hear the balance, a’fore I mash ye.” . ‘| don’t know what you mean,” said Bob, with a tone of assumed innocence. ‘¢ You lie! you rat-terrier! You’re hintin’ at somethin’, ou’ye seen somethin’. Out with it now, you whipper-snapper!” “Don’t hit me, now, Mr. Crapper,” broke in Bob, with a show of fear. ‘I ain’t said nothin’ as I knows on, to make such a noise about. I ‘was jest s’posin’—” “You know somethin’, blast you! Out with it now, or I’ll salt you!” and Mike shook him as a terrier might shake a mouse, ‘*Let me go, Mr. Crapper,” blurted Bob, with assumed terror. “I didn’t say as you’d been sewin’ wimmen into bags, and flingin’ ’em over- board, and drownin’’em. I didn’t—” But further words were cut short by a sav: blow which the frightened and infuriated vil- lain dealt at the boy, whom he still grasped by the shoulder, It might have been a serious blow for Bob for Mike’s fists were like sledge-hammers, and his arms like bars of iron. It would be easy to smash a weasel, if the weasel would bus wait to be smashed, But Mike’s fist met only the brick wall behind the boy, who was no longer there. _He had slipped like an eel from the grasp of his foe, and darted swiftly away. A mocking laugh came from a dark part of the street, at the same instant as Rusty Mike was cursing over his damaged knuckles. CHAPTER X. OLD SMUDGE’S TENANTS. It is supper time at old Smudge’s. But that remarkable old gentleman does not dine alone; not he, In short, meal time in that mansion reveals certain secrets of the establishment other than those seen in the sales-room of odds and ends, which forms the ostensible feature of the house. The supper-table, in fact, introduces us to Smudge’s tenants, and a most remarka- ble set of tenants they are. _ The table is set in an upper room of the build- ing, a long, white-washed apartment, with cob- webs hanging thickly from the ceiling, and the windows festooned so closely that the sunlight has trouble ehough to find room to enter. As for the table-service it was not French china. But it was so nicked, cracked and be- grimed that it would have been a little difficult to tell just of what material it was peered. And the supper was more plentiful than choice. j4 huge mass of cold corned beef occupied the center, from which each — did own carving. Bread, butter and potatoes formed the chief remaining constituents of the meal, while a massive iron pot steamed with coffee, or some such beverage. At the head of the table sat old ap his bleared eyes surveying with cunning looks the faces of his un guests as they busily oecupied themselves with their pleasant They were a half-dozen in all, ill-tavored creatures enough, one with a huge wen under his eye, another with an ulcerated sore upon his arm, while the remainder were affected in other distressing ways, and all dressed in dis- tractingly ragged attire, until they seemed an extraordinary coterie of beggars. At the foot of the table sat Tim, the com- panion of Rusty Mike on his recent murderous expedition. He was dressed more ty onsets than the others, but had an uncanny, hangdog air, and an inability to look any one in the eye that was not at all in his favor. The meal was succeeded by the production of flasks of whisky, and by long pipes charged with strong tobacco, and very soon the air came filled with the misty wreaths and pun- gent odors of tobacco smoke. “‘T hopes my boys ish injoying theirselves,” remarked old Smudge, casting a paternal look down the table. ‘‘I very mooch likes to haf you all happy.” “T expect so,” growled the man with the wen, from behind his pipe. ‘‘ You're a nice, comi’able old skinflint, as ought to ’ve been brung up fer a preacher.” ‘Him a preacher!” exclaimed a wooden- legged, squint-eyed chap, ‘‘ Why there aren’t a text in the Bible that sf wouldn’t have twist- ed ’round to prove the devil is a gentleman.” ‘‘The rascally old scape-gallows!” cried a third, as he helped himself liberally to whisky. ‘“‘He ought to belong to the anter-deluvian moral s’ciety.” “Dat ish right, boys,” remarked old Smudge, rubbing his hands and smiling as if he had just heard some most complimentary remarks. ‘‘I likes to she you haf your leetle jokes. Won't you shmoke, Mr. Timothy? Dat is goot tobac.” ‘Don’t keer if I do smother a pipe,” and Tim proceeded to fill the bowl of a pipe from the common receptacle of smoking material, ‘It ain’t a bad settler for a hearty supper.” The door opened and a new person entered, no less an individual than Beau Bink, the pick- pocket exquisite. Waving his hand with airy grace, he greeted the assemblage: ‘*Good-evening, gentlemen. Hope you’re en- joying ee How de do, . Smudge. es, on’t care if I do indulge. That sartain- ly does look inviting.” Coolly heiping bimself to a knife he proceeded to cut a generous slice from the mass of meat yet remaining. ‘*Mebbe you’d best wait till you’re axed,” growled the man with the wen, with an evil leer. ‘* Asked,” repeated Beau, with his mouth crammed with the beef. ‘‘ Now you dry up, Topheavy. When Mr. Smudge gits too mean to invite a friend to take a slice of cold meat then Vil lose my faith in human nature.” ** Correck,” said the old rogue, with a popes rubbing of his palms. ‘ Der’s nopody like bed- der to sbe his frien’s exjoy derselves. Try der whishky, Mr. Birk.” ‘‘ Ain’t much given to indulge,” replied Beau, with his airy smile. ‘‘ But seeing asit’s a special cecasion—” He finished his speech with a wave of the hand, and the pouring out of a generous pota- tion. The strange-looking group, around the table smoked on, locking at him with lowering eyes, as if they did not quite relish his intrusign. Nothing abashed, however, Beau helped himself toa pipe and a chair, and began to add his quota to the cloud of tobacco smoke. Suddenly a bell that hung in one corner of the room rung with three sharp peals, continu- ing to jingle while the old host sprung to his feet so suddenly as to upset his chair. He shuf- fled Spaces 8 to the door. sf back soon, shentlemen,” he remarked, as he passed out. aie Seems to be in a hurry,” ventured Beau ink. “Dunno as it’s none 0’ your business, if he is,” rumbled the man with the wen, who seemed to ave an invincible antipathy to the exquisite. Tim rose, laid his pipe on the table, and walk- ed about as if to stretch his limbs. There was a peculiar look upon his face. *Calk’late I'll stroll out for a walk,” he re- marked, ‘ Ain’t had a breath of fresh air these six hours.” And he, too, left the room. ‘Looks as if there’s something up,” ventured Beau, with a wink around the table.. | ““S’pose ther’s somethin’ up,” growled Top- heavy. ‘‘If you come spyin’ ’bout here there'll be somethin’ down soon. “What vou got to say, fellers, bout this chap with the high-toned col- lar? Do we want his comp’ny ?” ** Not much.” 2 “Then let’s dock him, while old Smudge is away.” Beau started up with alarm, ing his pipe, which crashed into a hundred fragments on the floor. odger. | arity nervously around him he mace a hasty dash for the door. But the others were too quick, Bw dee ged the wooden-legged man, who backed himself up against the portal, and confronted the fugitive with a mocking smile. ‘There ain’t no admission out that way, Mr. Bink,” said this fellow. ‘‘ And I’vea notion that these gemmen have a trifle of business with ou. Beau trembled and groaned as he looked at the circle of grinning faces that surrounded him, more like the visages of wild beasts than of civili beings. He gazed distractedly around, his eyes dilated with terror. He then made a dart at the most open point in the circle, seeking to break through. But his effort was vain. Two strong hands his trembling shoulders, two evil faces asa themselves, with leering eyes, almost in- is. Meanwhile, a conversation was going on in the outer room. Tim’s exercise had not takep him far; it ended in a point where he found old Smudge and Rusty Mike in earnest conversa- tion. “Tf you'll ’schuse me, shentlemen, I'll take a look in der schop,” said the former, as Tim came up. And the thread-bare old rogue shuffled away, his long coat almost dragging on the floor behind him. * A jolly old cuss!” ejaculated Mike, follow- ing him with his eyes. ‘ Shoot his rascally pic- ture, he ain’t worth a cocktail o’ gin.” He looked around to Tim witha lowering and troubled gaze, keeping silent for several min- utes, while the lesser villain shifted bis eyes un- easily in every direction, and shuffled his feet impatiently. “Do you know that you’re a deyilish uncom- fable twisty-eyed skunk?’ broke out Mike, sud- denly. ‘‘ Why in the blue blazes can’t ye look a man in the face, ’stead of runnin’ yer eyes all over the ceilin’ and walls, like a cornered cat, blast you?” : “*T calculate I wouldn’t see nothin’ wuth the trouble, if I looked in your face,” retorted Tim, with unusual spirit. Mike burst into a laugh, but it had a grating, forced sound, “Tell you what it is, Tim,” he uickly rejoin- ed, ‘‘ther’s hell to pay. Look here,” and he glanced warily around and lowered his voice. ‘Ther’s not enough water on that drowned Fie heered the most rantankerous bu’st-up ut her. Tim started violently, and turned ashy pale. “The devil!” he cried. ‘‘I knowed it. I said it. If we went outside our line. It was all your cursed contrariness, Mike,” and he finger- ed his throat with an unconscious movement. ‘Well, blazes on you for a white-livered cur, Ye don’t feel no ni. there yit, do ye?” asked Mike, contemptuously. “But what is it, Mike?’ stammered Tim. ‘‘Has the body come up? Or has somebody took water and peached? He had to hold on to a chair to support him- self, seeming utterly unnerved. “By thunder, if 1 kin make it out,” groaned Mike. ‘‘ That keen little devil’s cub they call Bob Rockett—why, blame my two eyes if he didn’t twit me to my face with drowndin’ a wo- man! Dern me if it didn’t take my breath away. And ’fore I could smash him he scoot- 8 ” ‘Bob Rockett?’ Tim’s pallor was unearthly. ‘*Shall we—” And he finished with a significant movement of the band. ““No,” gloomily. ‘‘ There’s more behind him. “You'll have to ump him, Tim. Youre a prime pump, and ¥ ain’t wuth a peda! in that line. Mought be a chance shot, I's” but it were aimed too straight. Pump him, Tim. Shoot me if it don’t make me feel uncomf’a- ble.” Tim wi his moist face, and managed to etc his confed- fix his eyes for a moment on that of erate. “Tf we'd ’a’ kept to our legitimate bizness,” he , ; “Oh, blow all that!” interrupted Mike. ‘“‘ Don’t you never begin diggin’ up old gutters, if you don’t want bad smells.—Now there’s that other job, Tim. That’s more to the pint. Ive had the P ate spotted, and it’s solid and heavy. That crib’s got to be cracked, my boy.” Tim looked up with more assurance. “ That’s my line of goods,” he averred. ‘I’m on hand. But what’s the lay?” “Thought fust of gittin’a boy to shim over the transom,” replied Mike. ‘‘ But boys is allers dubercus, Guess I'd best take a squint myself at the premises.” While the conversation proceeded old Smudge
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a te . a EE ee <a eying the bolt to see that every thing was se- eure, he re-entered the hall, and dragged his slow way u toward the room in which he had left his tenants. “What ailsh der poys?” he asked himself, as the sound of a peculiar uproar came to bis ears. “Dey ish sich oncommon playful poys,” and a look of deep malignity came into the old rogue’s face. “ Hope dey won’t shmash up none of der ebiny, bless ’em.’ ; The noise changed, as he approached, to a bustling shuffle, with a sort of choking, splutter- ing sound. He paused an instant at the door, listening. Then he pushed it open and en- tered. A strange sight met his eyes The most striking feature of this was that the group of invalids seemed to have been suddenly eured of their various disorders. The huge wen which had disfigured the face of Topheavy had disappeared. The wooden-legged man was now standing on two as sound limbs as one would wish to see, while his discarded leg was kicked across the room. The sore had disappeared from the arm of a third, only solid, clean, healthy flesh remaining. It was an extraordinary metamorphosis, but one which did not appear to surprise the old host, whose attention was attracted by another portion of the scene. In fact, poor Beau Bink was in trouble. A large wooden bucket, two-thirds full of water, sat in the center of the floor, and over this the poor devil was suspended, head downward, in the hands of Lis stalwart foes, who were dipping him up and down with clockwork regularity, burying bis head in the water at every dip, and then lifting him feet foremost, choking and spluttering like a half-drowned man. Nor was this the whole of their torturing operations. ‘Two others of the party were en- gaged, the one with an empty tobacco pipe, the other with the coffee-pot, pouring the hot beverage into the bow] of the pipe, until it ran from the stem in a smoking stream on the soles of his bared feet. An occasional howl, and a fierce kicking and struggling, marked Beau’s objection to this proceedine, but he was held too tight and at too great a cisadvantage to escape from his tor- mentors. ‘‘Here’s corned beef and whisky fer him,” cried Topheavy, as he soused bim down. ‘** And here’s coffee and pipes,” said the knave with the coffee-pot, as he continued to pour the hot liquid. A sudden, violent squirm, and Beau seed from the hands of his tormentors to the floor With hoarse laughs they sought to seize him again, but he darted across the room and caught up the discarded wooden leg. The others ad- vanced on himina body. e brandished his weapon, his eyes flashing with fury. And now it seemed as if a desperate fray was about to be fought, for the victim was armed with thestrength of madness. But the voice of old Smudge broke upon the momentary silence. ‘What ish der madder here?’ he asked, ina stern tone. ‘ What’s you doin’ mit my frient, Mr. Bink?’ The crowd of assailants turned at this voice, and shrunk beck from their victim. ** Only a little fun,” explained Topheavy. “A trifle of amusement to settle our suppers.” “ Amushement, hey?’ The old man’s face lowered with anger. ‘‘Wouldn’t pe amushe- ment if I wash to kick you allout, hey? Dirty peggars!” e mendicants were evidently afraid of their host. They shrunk away from their victim, with a reluctant movement, asif they were so many hyenas robbed of their prey. Topheavy hunted for a minute on the floor, and then icked up an unpleasant, semi-globular mass. tt was his wen, which he bad lost in the strug- The others seemed engaged in a similar “Dirty peggars!” repeated old Smudge, dis- dainfully. Pitiom with a sudden change of tone, he continued: “Nice poys. Fond of der fun, dey are. Likes ter shmoke and kick up. Ish you hurt, Mr. Bink?” The coffee-pot, which had been standing open, had lost much of its heat, yet Beau’s feet were of the color of boiled lobsters, as he attempted to put on his shoes. Not a word, in answer, eame from him. He limped painfully to the door, a desperately bedraggled specimen of hu- manity. Reavhing there he turned and shook his fist at the crew of mendicants. ‘You've had your turn. I'll have mine yet,” he hissed. : had taken a wary glance around the store. Bob Rockett, the Boy Dodger. Then, with a sudden thought, he changed to the right hand the wooden leg, which he had still held in his left, and hurled it with savage a! at the knot of his tormentors. e aim proved a sure one. The weapon struck the owner of the leg squarely in the fore- head and knocked him senseless to the floor. The others rushed to the door, out of which Beau had quickly slipped. But old Smudge signa, with his haee to it, saying: * “Nice poys! Jist git pack to yer pipes, an don’t lesh hear any more of dish fun.” And the old fellow’s eyes scowled unpleasantly from un- der their heavy brows. CHAPTER XI. BOB'S NEW DEPARTURE. “S’pose I’ve got nothing else to do but to watch you, you lazy young hound?” cried the foreman of the rivet sepa to Bob Rockett, who was taking life remarkably easy at his machine, You needn’t trouble yerself to watch me,” replied Bob, impudently. ‘ll watch myself, and charge nothin’ fer the job.” ‘““What do you mean, sirrah? I'll slather your ears if you try your smart tongue on me. tet to your work now; or get out, whichever you please.” “Tf it’s what I please,” answered Bob, “I don’t please to do neither.” “You won’t, eh?” cried the foreman, exas- perated by the boy’s impudent leer. ‘‘ Blame your eyes, we’ll soon see who is boss here.” He dealt Bob a back-handed slap on the ear that sage leveled that young gentleman to the oor, The boy’s savage temper was in a flame in- stantly. Catching up the keen tool that lay be- side him he made a stroke at the foreman which might have had a very serious effect had the latter not leaped hastily back. In doing so he struck an obstruction with his foot, and fell prostrate to the floor. The boy, still infuriated, raised his arm as if with intent to fling his dangerous weapon at the prostrate man, but his arm was caught by an- other of the workmen, and the rai wrested from his graep. ‘You little spit-fire!” exclaimed the work- man. ‘Don’t you see that you came within an ace of killing the man.” “T don’t keer a cent,” growled the boy, with the snarling accent of a wild beast. ‘‘ Didn’t he hit me?” ‘* Hold him!” cried the foreman, struggling to his feet. ‘‘ I'll settle him?’ But the boy, with a quick jerk, tore himself loose from the careless grasp of the workman. “Don’t you come foolin’ ’round me ag’in,” he yelled. ‘‘Cause I’m Bob Rockett, Iam; and I won’t let no man ’cept my dad play iton me. I ain’t goin’ to lift another tool in this yere fac- tory, you kin jist bet on that, and I don’t keer nothin’ fer old Jones, nor any of his barkers.” He was backing off as he spoke toward a win- dow in the rear. He now turned, sprung upon a box, and from that to the window-sill. The next instant he had leaped to the ground out- side, disappearing from the view of the aston- ished workmen. “If that buy don’t end at the gallows, then I’m no judge,’ remarked the foreman. But Bob, heedless of this uncomplimentary opinion, walked away with a gloomy face. ‘*Tt was bound to come to it,” he muttered. ‘*Tt’s been a-workin’ up. But, oh Joseph! won’t dad be rarin’ mad? He’ll skin me sure!—If I can only hide it from him. Raise cash some- how and play it off fer wages. It won’t be no harder nor playin’ truant at school. If Ikin hit the cash. Let mesee. Ther’s ways of doin’ it. By thunder, if I kin aay track Kusty Mike I mought hit the mark on that murder biz’ness, and mak a ten strike right thar.” But we must, for the Makes follow the fortunes of Rusty Mike. t individual was in ey Ages 4 but a heavenly humor. The strange hint he had received from the boy had produced an impression upon him which he could not throw off. How could there be any clew to the murder? He ran over the circumstances in his mind. He had met, Ws oy OREO a carriage at a certain locality. this he had found two women, one of them under the influence of nar- cotics. The latter he had enveloped in a strong cloth, rudely sewed together, and had finally thrown her into the waters of the East river. There had been no reappearance of the body. What then should he understand by this strange utterance of the boy? His wife was not very comfortable under this mental worry of her lord and master. He ee snarled and swore with a dogged fierceness that kept the woman in a constant dread. ‘Dern it all, Sal, ye’r’ enough to give a saint the blue devils!” he snarled in answer to some trifling observation. ‘‘ D’ye s’pose a man ain’t — nerves that ye’r’ all the time a-pickin’ at , like a rat at a piece o’ cheesef Biast me if I ain’t gettin’ sick of it!” And rising he flung his pipe sneleasly to the floor, breaking it into fragments. Dashing his hat .on his head he stalked we from the room, slamming the door fiercely behind him, and leaving his wife in a state of utter astonish- ment at this outbreak. Mike stam on down the street, his eyes glaring to right and left, asif in search of some object on which to vent his spleen. He had one on, in this mood, for some distance, when e me to lift his eyes to the level of the second floor window of the opposite bouses. A violent start, a curse, a trembling of fear came over him. For Rusty Mike, in mid-afternoon, in bright sunlight, had seen a ghost. The face which for an instant had appeared, inclosed between two curtains, and then had dis- appeared, leaving the curtains draped over the window, he knew it too well. He hadseen it be- fore fora moment only, at night, by the dim glow of a street lamp, but it was too deeply engraved upon his memory to be forgotten. Had the sea given up its dead? It was the face of the drowned woman. . A nervous tremor shook Mike’s sturdy limbs ashe walked on. His embrowned face grew pallid. He was too much shaken up to notice the number of the house, or even the street he wasin. He felt sure it was a specter he had seen, and had all his ordinary wit driven out of him by terror. There was another thing which he did not notice. This was that the boy, Bob Rockett, lounged on carelessly behind him, keeping him in sight, though apparently paying no heed to his movements. Yet Bob had a decided object in view. He had to earn his week’s wa before Saturday night, or he might be interviewed by Dad Rockett and his strap, of which he stood in wholesome dread. And it seemed to him that the track of Rusty Mike might prove a highly profitable one. Mike became more assured as he got awa from the locality of that dreaded vision. It might ve a mistake after all, he argued. A sort of cheating of the eye by the mind. That woman’s face was in his memory, he thought, and had somehow forced its image upon bis eye. He must be growing weak-minded to let such a thing scare him.—He walked on more sturdily. His path took him far up-town, and into one of the bandsomer streets of that locality. Bob continued upon his track. Here the boy noticed that he was joined by a companion, a ragged, disreputable fellow, with an enormous wen up- on his right cheek, below his eye. The two men conversed earnestly for a few minutes, and then made their way in a peculiar skulking fashion along the street, closely ob- serving the houses. At length the man with the wen pointed to one of these elegant mansions. “That’s the crib,” he remarked. ‘It’s got my private mark aside the area door.” ere yer all squar’ with the gal?” asked @. “You bet,” returned Topheavy, for it was he. ‘*Ther’s cold bits there enough to start a second-hand boardin’-house. And I’ve struck some other little pickin’s unbeknownst to the gal. They’re the carelessest folks goin’. And hin’s of silver stuff.” * raw E pote grt yl said Mike. ‘‘ Ye know I’m a poor friend of yourn, jest from Arkansaw, and hain’t had bit nor sup fer tworbull days.” ‘Be keerful,” replied Topheavy, looking at him critically. ‘‘ You ain’t used to the trade, and mought overplay it.” Walking forward with all the boldness of a habitual , he rung the bell with that thundering peal which only a huckster or a mendicant thinks of giving. Bob watched them closely from the other side of the street, in some doubts as te their movements. After their mesg pent ani he crossed over, and leaned m the railing, try- to see Crop the ned window, and with all his ears with hope to catch a of conversation. rhe had been here a minute or two the front door opened, and a well-dressed, handsome genet emerged, attended to the door by a autiful young lady. She smiled softly as he shook her extended hand. scra)
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Bob Rockett, the Boy Dodger. “‘Good-by, Mr. Delorme,” she said, in iow, mellow tones. ‘‘ Good-by,” he replied, more coldly. He descended the steps and brushed past the lad, who was leaning upon the railing. She followed him for a minute with a peculiar expression in her eyes, then turned and re- eutered the house. Bob been able to see through stone walls he would have perceived that she walked toward the rear stairs, and de- scended to the basement story. Meanwhile the two men who had made their entrance under pretense of hunger, appeared to have been highly successful in their appeal to charity. The cook, a burly, middle-aged wo- man, particularly ill-favored, was laughing heartily at Topheavy, who seemed to have quite won her heart lee conversational powers. As for Rusty Mike he was regaling himself on a plentiful spread of cold meat ant bread and butter which the girl had laid out for him. “ll never forgit yer charity,” he said, with - got bee ony * but o it aren’t too much ask, my pu ass, a trifle of would be a monstrous help to the meat. ~ tail The girl, with a simper of pleasure at his compliment, left the kitchen in search of the pepper-box. Mike instantly rose and made some hasty manipulations about the door, lis- tening warily to her footsteps. He was seated again when she reappeared. But he had just slipped a wax mold into his pocket, and was examining, with critical eye, a silver * sag which had been carelessly left upon the table. **Here’s the pepper my good man. And T hope you’re making a hearty meal, Two wuole or Na aan a bite! No wonder you’re looking thin. At this moment the young lady appeared at the kitchen door. ~ ¥ “Hannah,” she called out, a vexed look cross- ing her face on seeing the character of the girl’s company. Mike was so seated that, by a slight move- ment of the head, he could see the lady’s face. _ started so violently as to drop the pepper- X. This noise drew the lady’s attention. She darted a quick glance toward him. But évery particle of color left her lips on seeing his face, and she leaned against the doorway for sup- Pr Aik le or-Glay tnd. pueed ickl t -play ha sed so quic as no to be obaerven by the propre : r ‘© Will ye ’scuse me?” asked Mike, starting up as she was about to withdraw. ‘‘But does yer ladyship set any store by jewelry? I've got some’at as I’ve brung all the way from Cali- forny, and bein’s I’m hard up I’d sell it cheap, dog cheap, my lady.” **T do not care to see it,” she hastil “Yer ladyship ’d better,” and had a threatening glare. She hesitated a moment. ‘Oh, very well. I will look at it then,” she announced. ‘Bring it here, where we will have a better light.” A look of satisfaction came upon Mike’s face, as he followed her from the room, shutting the door behind him. She continued to walk on, leading him up- atairs, and into the main hall. “We are out of hearing now,” she sternly said. ‘‘I wish to know what brings you here.” “T eum by chance,” he answered, ‘“ But ther’ ain’t many sich lucky chances,” a lower- ing smile marking his face. ‘What do you want?” ** Money.” “You have been paid your price.” “ All right, yer ladyship. But that’s all gone, and a poor devil like me is got to have money to live on, ye know.” «Ah! you would black-mail me then?’ “Oh, no ma’am, nothin’ so onpleasant. But I'm pee, fee poor, yer ladysbip.” “ And sup I let you remain poor?” ‘Tt moughtn’t turn out very comf’able for yerself,” he answered, with a threatening look. ‘T ain’t much given to h, but ther’s no tel- lin’ what a poor devil mought be druv to. That drownded gal mought get a-weighin’ on my conscience, which is very delicate,’ ‘Very well, my man,” she sternly ae tee re, SBOMD, Fon in your person, do uckily, you are m en i. 0 not Se von and will not be blackmailed by you, for I know you value your miserable life much to risk my safety. She paused a moment, and then resumed as from a sudden recollection. Besides, I begin to fear that you played me a trick, She is still alive.” replied. ike’s eyes Her lips quivered despite her effort to appear com eRtive?” cried Mike, starting. ‘‘ By hell’s fire. I saw her Pes to-day! Fer ajl that she’s dead as dead kin be. e ocean’s swal- lowed her, and ’ll never give her up ag’in!” “Yes, with a hook,” came a youthful voice. ‘* She’s no more dead then any of us yere, and I’m the chap as knows it.” With a violent start they turned, and beheld Bob Rockett, who had entered through the front door, which had been carelessly left on a crack. CHAPTER XII. BOB SHOWS HIS HAND. Marre Ormiston’s remark that she believed that Mike had played a trick upon her, takes us a little back in our story for its origin. We have already given an account of the first step in her set p to make George Delorme the victim of her charms, and to win the re- ward of her crime in the love of this man for whom she had conceived such an overmastering passion, The effect then produced upon him had per- sisted. Though he still continued to love his lost betrothed, and made every possible effort to unrave] the mystery of her disappearance, — the warm sympathy of this beautiful girl in is grief was becoming dangerously pleasant and threatened in time fo make him ——_ his love and his grief, and yield himself y and soul to the siren, who had so skillfully set her nets for him. He was seated in her boudoir a half-hour be- | fore the events narrated in the last chapter, lis- tening to her soft tones, while they had drawn dangerously near to each other upon the sofa. ‘And have all your efforts been in vain?” she asked, in a cooing voice. shadow of evidence appeared?” He gi a slight start, and a remembrance crossed his mind, ‘What made me forget it?’ he asked himself. “Yes, I have a slight clew. It may prove a most important one, but it looks toward some fate more serious than I wished to let myself be- lieve. I tried to convince myself that a sudden sickness, or perhaps some strange whim, might explain her disappearance. But this looks to- ward violence and robbery.” ‘What is it?’ she asked in a sinking voice, her | | disposing 0 “Has noi a clew, or a | ‘ ‘ li this nature had so suddenly accumulated t« overthrow her security. The finding of the jewel by George Delorme, the statement of Mike that be had seen the ghost of her victim, and now this definite and positive assertion. Her face was of an ashen hue, her lips bloodless and ya hering as she turned to see from whom came that startling statement. And Mike, hardened | villain as he was, could not avoid some show of | alarm and terror. Bob stood leaning against the door, his shrewd | young face keenly observant of their evidences of emotion. “It’s you, hey? yon cursed little rat-dog!” ex- ) claimed Mike, with a threatening step forward. on ou want me to throttle you, b yer?” As t wouldn’t put the gal outer the way ag’in,” Bob coolly responded. ‘Ther’s no twe ways "bout it. The gal isn’t drownded, and that’s the whole story. Mike looked at his lady confederate, in whose face an expression of bold decision had replaced her momentary terror. ““ What do you mean, boy?” she coolly asked. Bob’s sharp eyes were fixed with a keen glance upon her features. “T mean the as Rusty Mike flung over- board, sewed up in a bag, and as you him to. Butshe ain’t no more drownded nor I am. 1_ know jist where she’s hidin’, and I know that she’s goin’ to make these yere diggin’s hot fur the pair of ye, fore long.” **Not dead!” —— Marie, with a gesture of surprise. ‘‘Why she was dead before she left here. You seem to have a strange idea, my boy, that there was an effort to drown some one. This man was employed to throw over- board a co , which we had good reasons for in that manner. hat gave you the ridiculous fancy that it was a live person?” ‘““*Cause she don’t walk like a corpse; nor she don’t talk like one,” answers Bob sturdily. “Can it be possible?’ exclaimed Marie # aeao9 ing her hand over her brow with a bewildered esture. ‘‘Could we have been mistaken? Were there any signs of life?” This question was addressed to Mike, who had stood during this brief colloquy staring at her in stupid wonder. “Dead as ared herrin’, ma’am,” he asserted, | recovering his wits. pallor passing off very well as the result of sym- | thy and deep interest. ars is this? he said posed for sale in a jeweler’s window.” He withdrew his fingers from his vest pocket, They held a piece of pty! f a gold breastpin containing in its center a so itaire diamond, of medium size, ‘“‘Tt is Grace’s pin,” he remarked. “TI gave it to her myself.” “ e Marie was shivering as with an ague. drew away from him, her eyes fixed with a kind | of terrified fascination upon the pin. ‘<T have not yet put the officers on the track,” | he continued. “ important developments. arie recovered her composure by a violent effort. “Tt is hers,” she half whispered. ‘‘ But—but ut they may trace it up to ? —she did not wear it on that day. She wore | only a plain traveling dress. I am sorry to de- stroy your hopes, but this must be the work of some servant. This pin has been stolen and sold to the jeweler.” ‘* Are you sure she did not wear it?” “Quite sure. I am sorry, but you will gain no clew by seeking to trace that jewel.” “But you may be mistaken. It will not do to leave any chance untried.” “T am not mistaken, sir.” Her tone had a slight ring of anger. ‘‘ Excuse me, but it is not pleasant to have you doubt my word.” “Doubt your word, Marie?” he looked at her in surprise. ‘‘What do you mean? I had no ba of such a thing.” “Tt seemed so, at least.” He rose to his feet. “I must be now,” he said quietly. “I am sorry that you have misunderstood me. But I think you will soon see that I must try every clew, even if it seem an idle hope. After what you have said I have no hope of good results trom this jewel, but it is my duty to find whence it came.” She had recovered her softness of manner when bidding him good-by at the door, but he could not avoid showing some coldness in his deportment. t may be well imagined that on hearing the sudden laration of Bob Rockett that her vic- tim was still living a cold tremor — through Marie Ormiston’s heart. Fear saggoabione of | the asylum.—The “T found it to-day ex- | | suicide, for she was “Tf it isas this boy says something must be done. We must find some means to get her to r lady was insane,” she continued, addressing Bob. “She obtained poison, and was aoe to have committed ound apparently dead. For certain family reasons we tried to dispose of the body in the way you know of. It is fortunate, indeed, if the immersion in cold water has brought her back to life, and if she has — from the danger of death by drowning. she must not be left at liberty. She will try some other means of self-destruction. Where has she been taken to, my lad?” Mike’s face was a picture as he listened to this skillful web of lies, He turned to conceal the | involuntary grin of admiration for her talents that came upon his features. As for the boy it was not easy to decide whether he was deceived or not. is counte- nance remained impassive as he continued te look the speaker in the face. “‘T know,” he briefly replied. “But she must be brought back among her friends. Or taken to the asylum. Will you not help ‘us to recover the poor demented woman? She is not to be trusted for a minute.” “Tell you what it is,” burst out Bob, “I’ve tt to have some cash, or a solid hiding from my Sat one or t’other; and that blamed soon. Now now. I will give fn more after you have revealed her place o ; “Ten dollars,” said Bob, looking with uncon- cealed pleasure on the bank bill. “Tell you what, make it a hundred, and I’m yer hoss.’ “4 hundred,” repeated Marie, with an affec- tation of surprise. $ Ly & hundred, and J’ll take a hand in the game,” repeated Bob. “She ain’t afeared o me, and she mought be of the rest of ye.” “Very well. would give even more to be sure of hersafety. The money shall be yours, boy, the moment you show us where she ne ‘ Honor bright?’ asked Bob, doubtfully. “You can trust me,” she curtly rejoined. Ten minutes afterward Bob Rockett was walking alone down Fifth avenue, his eyes fixed upon the mansions in that stately street as if he ' i Ps i | te ete
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14 tally deciding which of them he we~14 | himI love. Is it for this that I was thrown into the ian. oo nora Bi sage Bed Uie | midnight nig ae George, was pth he— ET urchase when he came into his fortune. cundred dollars! It seemed ‘ike a million to his excited vination. But for quite easy iu his min ** Needn’t tell me,” he said to himself. erazy dodge don’t sell thischicken. I’m afeared iv’ il be worse than drowndin’ next time. A hun- dred dollar’s a big pull, and she’d been gone anyhow only ferme. But—” A shudder ran through his young frame, The thought that this was murder came like a dark shacow of terror upon him. ‘No, no!” he mentally ejaculated, “not if it *as a million. Le’me see. Ain’t there some «ay now.o’ fingerin’ that hundred and savin’ Ae lady both? S’pose I post the perlise?— foses! Dvoe got itnow. I mought tell ’em to wait till they’ve got her in the kerridge, and then salt the whole set. That’s the dodge. Ain’t paid Rusty Mike yet fur that kick, anyhow.” He walked on more and more worry Another thought had come into his mind. If this lad was worth so much to one party was she worth nothing to the other? If her enemies would pay so much to know where to find her, would her friends pay nothing? ‘““Wonder if ther’s been no reward offered?” he asked himself. ‘I’m a blind fool I didn’t think of that sooner. Got a half notion to go to the Herald office and ax ’em squar’ out.” At this moment he observed two persons be- fore him whose faces gave a new current to bis thoughts. One of them was the young gontle- man whom he had recently seen leaving the door of Miss Ormiston’s 25, fo ye The other was an older person, with gray whiskers, and a dig- nified, staid countenance. There was a striking resemblance in his features to those of Grace Garland, which the sharp-eyed boy did not fail to observe, These two persons were standing in earnest conversation. “You give me new life,” exclaimed George Delorme. ‘‘I feared the worst. She writes that she is safe and well?” ‘Yes. But she does not say where she is, or what has happened.” There was a ring of vex- ation in the voice. ‘‘ Grace was always given to such foolish love of mystery.” ‘““She is concealing herself then? We must find her. Yet I have had all the police vainly seeking.” He spoke sadly. “The perlice? You don’t s’pose they’re any count, is ye?’ came a boyish voice at their elbows. They looked around in surprise, to see a rag- ged, dwartish, old-faced boy, who stood regard- ing them with the greatest assurance. * Aren’t you a friend of a young lady that’s missin’?’ asked Bob, “ Yes, yes. ” ** And aren’tyou her father?” “Why, certainly. Is it possible that this boy con know where she is? You shall be well re- warded, my lad, if you can give us any infor- mation.” . ‘*Weren’t ther’ a reward put in the papers?” asked Bob, again. “Yes. One thousand dollars for any infor. mation,” answered George, hastily. ‘*{t shall be yours if you can tell us where to find this lost lady.” Bob stood silent for a minute, as if sunk in deep reflection. Then he again spoke: ‘*S’pose a chap of my size had a small fortune as he didn’t want to lay out all to once; could ye rec’mend any good ’vestment? Some way as folks have to make cash fetch in cash?’ “Yes, But what has that to do with the question?” ‘Only that I ’spect to have somethin’ to’vest, and mighty soon. To the tune of a thousand or tharaways.” “Then you know—” “T ken, jist put my finger on that missin’ gal at, any minute,” answered Bob, with great dig- nity of manner. { CHAPTER XIII. AN OPEN DAY ABDUCTION. A park look was upon Grace Garland’s face as she sat. by the window Mrs. Essex’s humble apart- ment, gazing listlessly into the busy street below. It was a gloom that was full of sadness; a sorrow that was. tinged with despair. . “JT dreamed not that it could come to this,’’ she faintly murmured. ‘That George Delorme could so ‘soon forget me, and yield himself to the charms of another! And that other Marie Ormiston, whom I fear, I dread—" She became silent, placing her hands over her face as if to shut out a frightful vision, .“T fondly fancied I had no enemies,” s’ e contin- ret. “Yet she accompanied me that fatal day, Bh. -lone,—Auc ow she is seeking to win from me Bob no, no, I cannot believe that—it would be too terri- | ble! No, he has been taken captive by the charms | him, were conversing in low tones on the , of this false woman. I have long distrusted her. i this hoped-for wealth he was not | Have I now gained the reward of my concealment, in finding that my professed friend was my attempt- “That | ed destroyer?” She looked again from the window, her forehead against the glass. There was a nervous twitch in her fingers. Evidently she was not at rest under the information gained by the detective she had employed. “Tf my father were only returned,’ she mused. ‘**T dare not trust myself from this concealment un- til I have his protection, If she knew I had escaped her plans I would be in deadly peril.” A carriage that was moving gy? along the street stopped before the door of the house. Two men were on the box, who got down and moved in- ward toward the house. At the same moment a boy came along the street whose face seemed to her to have something familiar in its lines. She, how- ever, be but a glance at these incidents, being too absorbed in her thoughts to heed what was going on outside. Behind her Mrs. Essex was moving about in her usual bustling fashion, while Paul was curled up up- on an easy-chair, diligently studying a school lesson. | “There, I fancy I’ve got the best of that grammar now,”’ he ejaculated, throwing the book with a care- less fling upon the table. ‘I will go out for a little run before supper, mother.” “Very well, Paul, if you do not stay too late. Be back in an hour.” Seizing his hat, Paul burst with all the impetuosity of a school-boy from the room, and descended the stairs three steps at a time, reaching the bottom in | a moment of time. He stopped an instant at the door, surprised at the unusual spectacle of a carriage standing before that humble domicile. Two men, their faces turned from At a short distance from them stood Bob Rockett, in alounging attitude, a look of curious anxiety and in- decision upon his face, ** Hillo, Paul!’ exclaimed Bob, “‘ which way now?” “Only goin’ to meet some of the boys for a bit of sport.” Without asking Bob to accompany him Paul hast- |} ened away. cokett, the Boy Dodger. avement, | “Stir up now,” said one of the two men, turning | sharply toward him. “ What are you standing there for?” It was the voice of Rusty Mike. “This is the house,” answered the boy, with a slight show of hesitation. He entered the doorway, and moved with a lag- | ging step toward the stairs. The men pushed impatiently past him. ““Which door is it?” ‘** First to the right; second floor.” They walked rapidly up the creaking stairs, leav- | ing the boy at the bottom, his eyes gazing uneasily up the street. ‘*T do hope Paul will get enough of play some- time,’ remarked Mrs. Essex, ‘It is queer how fond boys are of making a noise and getting themselves tired.” : “Tdo not think it very strange,’’ smiled Grace. ** You and I were once fond of it ourselves.” “But not in the way boys are. They— Who's that?’ as a fumbling was heard at the door. It opened and two men entered. A glance at them, ” | and a shiver of dread ran through Grace Garland's | frame, “What do you want here?” asked Mrs. Essex, in her sharpest tones, ‘ You’ve mistook the place, my men.’ * Not. much,” returned Rusty Mike, his eyes dilat- ing as he looked at Grace. ‘“ l’ve a sorter notion as there’s no mistake.” ‘What are you after?” asked Mrs, Essex again, facing them angrily. “ We're arter this poor woman,” answered Mike, with a sort of whimper in his effort toshow concern. ‘Poor thing! her parents has sent us witha kerridge to fetch her home,” **Ob, what does he mean?” cried Grace, her face full of dread. ““Won't you be quiet now?” whispered the other man in Mrs, Essex’s ear. ‘‘ Ain’t you found out that | ** Now for the others. | | A gasp; aslicht struggle; she felt her senses going from her. She made a desperate effort to tear her- self loose, but he only pressed the handkerchief more upon her nostrils, holding her with an iron grasp. A moment more and she staggered, and would have fallen but for his strong arm. ‘* Quick, Tim, is yourn safe?” “In a minute,” answered Tim. ‘Hurry like blazes! The gal’s keeled over. Poor | critter! we must git her home to her parents at oncet, Seis All right now,” said Tim, as he tightened another ot. Mrs. Essex sat in Boag is helplessness, firmly bound to the chair, while her mouth was bandaged so tightly that she could scarcely breathe, and her eyes seemed as if they would start from her head on beholding her guest torn from her room in open day, and she anabie to render any aid or to give the alarm. . The door closed behind the villains, b aring be- tween them their insensible captive. ‘Poor thing, she has fainted,” said Mike, on reaching the Pot of the stairs, where one or two passers looked on with surprise at this unusual spectacle. “Give her air,” remarked Tim, moving quickly forward. ‘‘It’s a dangerous fever, and I hope none of us will catch it.” The lookers-on drew back in alarm. The boy confederate of the villains stood by the carriage door and flung it open as they approached. In an instant they had lifted their captive inside. “Poor thing!’ exclaimed Mike, feelingly. ‘‘She’ll soon come to, with the air. He sought to close the carriage-door, but Bob stood there with his hand extended inside. ** Quick as thunder with the spondulicks,” he whis- ered, in an excited tone. “If you don't pony up ‘I let out. I ain’t goin’ to sell myself fer nothin’.”’ A small paper roll was thrust into his hand with- in. He drew it out and saw that it was composed of vonk notes. * All right,”’ he exclaimed, slamming the carriage- door. ‘ Drive on.” All this had passed so quickly that the few ob- servers had not yet got rid of their first impression, It seemed like the placing of a sick lady in a car- riage. Any suspicions which might arisc had not yet begun to declare themselves. ** My bargain is out with that party,” said Bob to himself, as he looked anxiously along the street. Where the saints are they?” The carriage had already started. There was no sign of what he was looking for. A show of fear and anxiety came upon his face. Turning he walk- ed hastily after the carriage, still looking over his shoulder. ' a kerridge! the creature’s crazy? We're only keepers from the | *sylum, as hev been sent for her.” The little woman looked from one face to the other, with a startled expression in her eyes. Then she fixed her glances upon Grace, who was holding to her chair with a nervous clutch, her lips ashy pale, a look of terror in her eyes. “It is not so!” cried Mrs. Essex, with a sudden movement toward the door. ‘ You're a pair of vil- lains, and if you don’t leave I'll scream for help.” A savage glare came into Mike’s eyes. **Settle her, Tim,” he said. In an instant the lesser villain had caught her by the throat and forced her back into a chair. _ De- spite her struggles he proceeded to and bind her, being apparently well provided with materials for the purpose. At the flost s chair. ! as if to assist. her against her foes. Her next was toward the window, with intent to throw it up and call for help. Ere she could reach it she was seized » hands of Mike, who drew her violent of violence Grace sprung from her he strong back. A t 4 faint scream broke from her lips. Ere she could re- | at it, with more energy, her captor had forced a andkerchief upon her mouth and nostrils, while a peculiar sweetish odor disseminated itself through- out the air of the room. It turned a corner, shutting out the view of the street they werein. Bob thrust the roll of notes into his pocket and began to run, Another corner, and another were turned. Suddenly he found him- self face to face with Paul Essex, who was moving leisurely in the opposite direction. Bob grasped him violently by the arm, his face pale and haggard-looking. * Run like lightnin’!”’ he cried. ‘Straight home! Ther’s the devil to pay! You'll find men there with 2 Tell ’em to turn up Canal street and drive like mad. I'll keep ’em in sight.” He was off at full speed, leaving Pau) the picture of astonishment. It took a minute for the thought to work its way through his head that some serious disaster had occurred. Then, turning, he ran home- ward like a young deer. Meanwhile Bob was gaining on the carriage, which had met with some obstructions in the crowded street, Paul reached home breathless and frightened. A carviage stood before the door. Two.men, with scared faces, had just rushed from the stairs onto the pavement. They stood looking distractedly around them. “Are you after some one?” asked Paui, with breathless haste, “Yes! yes! Haveyou seenthem? Can you direct “They have turned up Canal street. You must drive like mad.” “Jump on the seat, my boy. You may belp us.” In an instant Paul and the two men sprung into an open carriage, the younger man grasped the reins, and the mettled horses started at a quick pace up | the narrow street. Her first movement was toward Mrs. Essex, | CHAPTER XIV. IN SHARP PURSUIT. Tue two gentlemen were pale with anxiety and dread, as the carriage made its way through the con- tracted street. Paul-pointed out which way to drive in order to reach the point where he had seen Bob Rockett, but rapid progress was not. easy in those narrow and crowded thoroughfares. Drays, expre4 ears, and wagons occupied and obstructed the we ® and it was difficult to guide two spirited hors.» between them at all, much less to make any rapid advance, “This way,” cried Paul. ‘They went up Canal, This street isn’t so crowded, and it runs into Canal further ahead.’’ It was a winding avenue, bordered by tall houses, and less used for purposes of transit than the more , direct streets. The carriage was turned into it, and. was able to move there more —. ; “What does it all mean?” atked Paul, anxiously appealing to the gentlemen by his side. ‘Is there anything wrong?” ; “An abduction, my lad. A young lady abducted in open day.” “From the house I saw you coming out of?”
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: Deb Itcekett, the Boy Dodger. 1 ~ ' sage asked Paul, with breathless dread. “It wasn't Miss to Broadway we should have overtaken them before “But we have Grace,” said George, looking Garland?” now. They must have turned down some side es into her pale face. reet.”’ oy replied the gentleman, with interest. “‘ You know, tale thac she was there, and that we are not on a false errand?” “Of course she was there. That is rs? mother’s house, and she was staying with us. Oh, sir! you don’t say that they have stolen her away?—And my mothert Oh, let me down! Something may have " sf eh tied her, but my boy, she is ight. The er, bu we set" her free.” Sig 4 This is Canal street, sir. But it is pretty much crowded. Take that side, it’s open there for half a block, They can’t have much 7 Mr. Delorme, for it was he, was a skillful driver and managed to guide his horses with much skill through the turmoil of rattling wagons and street cars, voerin corners and through cavities in the mass with a speed and daring that more than once risked the overturning of his vehicle. Yet no’ signs appeared of the were pursuing. to be easily overtaken, The street they were on de- bouched into Broadway. A policeman stood on the cerner. My. Delorme checked his horses for an in- stant and called out to this person: ‘Have you seen any carriage pass out this street in the last five minutes?” “Yes, About three minutes ago. Broadway.” “ Was there a boy running after it?’ asked Paul, “No. But there was a boy hanging on behind. A rageed little fellow,’’ “ That's the chap,” cried Paul, with satisfaction. “Thanks!” said Mr. Delorme, as he turned his horses into Broadway, up which he drove with much greater rapidity than he had been able to do in the crowded down-town. business thoroughfares. But how to distinguish any special carriage in that endless procession? under such circumstances? For the first, there was but the fact of the boy behind the carriage, of which the policeman had spoken, to guide them. For the second there was only the chance of the fugitive keeping to Broadway until overtaken. ** But who can this boy be?” asked Mr. Garland, whose anxious face looked forward from the rear seat of the carriage, ‘*The boy?” answered Paul, ‘* Why he’s Bob Rock- ett, and he's just the fellow to hang on till the wheels fo to pieces, into it.” ‘‘ Bob Rockett?’ repeated Mr. Garland. “That’s him. He's a little chap that loafs around our way. A regular little rascal and bully, too, He’s tried to lick me more that once, but I guéss I took the starch out of him. We ain’t much of friends any more, cause my mother don't want me togo with him, and I don’t like him myself too much. A smile came upon Mr. Delorme’s face, at this condensed history of a boy’s life, “ Why, he is the very boy who warned us of this abduction,” he remarked. ‘“‘We were delayed by an unlucky jam in the streets, and got there too late. The plucky little fellow is following the vil- lains up,’ + And he will hang on, too,” replied Paul. “He's got plenty of plack, if he is a little fight-cat: Isup- jose you know it was him that saved Miss Grace from drowning, and brought her to my mother’s house?” Here was a new revelation. The gentlemen looked at each other in surprise. They had heard nothing of this, ‘They simply knew that she was concealed, but why, or through what peril she had passed, they were quite ignorant. “Bob had kept remarkably non-committal on this point. A few questions elicited the whole story, the at- tempiod murder, the fortunate rescue, the purpose of Miss Garland 8 concealment, and Paui’s own warm admiration involuntary boarder. * But theré was a valuable reward offere “ Yes,’ Paulsimply answered. *‘Is “ And was it no iacduceimnent to you?” +d Miss Grace didn’t want me to answer it, and so I didn't.’ “Well, I declare!” exclaimed Mr. Delorme, with admiration. “That's not bad. And were ali your young companions as self-denying as yourself? I ond'y fancied that five thousand dollars would be a sirong inducement.” “JT wouldn’t trust Bob and his cronies,” Paul frankly admitted, ‘* But they ain’t much on read- ing, and I took mighty ened care not to post them. 1 wasn’t going back on Miss Grace.”’ “She will not go back on you, my boy,” said the father, heartily. During this conversation, which had had man breaks in the exigencies of their course, they hawt passed a considerable distance up the grand avenue, with its interminable lines of magnificent sto an its broad sweep for miles through the heart of the t city. It tg much less frequented by wheeled vehicles, and their progress became corresponding- rapid, the mettled horses leaping to the touch of the whip, and tearing up the avenue, till fire flew in a line of sparks from the clatter of their iron Roots on the flinty stones. More ine once policemen ordered them to check their speed, and Mr. Delorme made a feint of trying to bring down his horses; yet the need was too ur- gent to make this more than a feint, and the flerce pursuit went on, ° “Yet I fear they have, thrown us,” he remarked, with some uneasiness of tone. “They could not have jooked for so sharp a chase. Had they kept arty whom they It turned into of his mother’s They had evidently too much start” te right and left, and darting around | And how to overtake a fugitive | | taken them. Though [ don’t see how he got mixed | | to the | street. | swung With | cure position behind. sti ; “In which case we can only trust to the wit of the boy,” said Mr. Garland. aul said nothing. His eyes were fixed on a car- ri just then t the corner of a street at some di in advance. was no boy clinging to it, to be sure; but he saw something familiar in the short, stout form — then stepping from the street vement close behind 1. . up a little,” he warned the driver, as they approached the corner. ithout asking why, Mr, Delerme ebeyed. Paul's sharp young eyes looked keenly down the side The carriage was not far in advance. And there, on the pavement, following at a quiek step, was the unmistakable figure ef Beb Rockett. “ Good for our side!’ exclaimed Paul, with enthu- siasm. “There's the scout! There's the carriage! After them, sir: we'll save her yet!” In a minute they had overtaken the boy, who was running in a sort of easy trot, with his eyes fired on the fugitive carriage. se Hello, Beb!” cried Paul. “ Here you are! Jump up behind! Ain’t got time to step!"’ Bob shifted his eyés for a moment from his quar- | ry, and took in the situation at a glance. In an in- stant more he took Paul’s advice, ran at an an- gle toward the passing carriage, and caught it as it rapidly by. youthful agility he lifted himself into a se- “That’s them!” he cried, breathlessly. “They geen me, and whipped me off. Drive like ‘sin and you'll cotch ’em afore they could say Jack Robin- son! Mr. Delorme was not long in obeying this advice. He touched the whip to his herses and whirled like an avalanche upon the fugitives, who showed no sign of having taken the alarm. Less than a minute elapsed after Bob's informa- tion ere the carriages were side by side, the two men on the box of the foremost looking around with sur- prise upon this vehicle which had so suddenly over- Apparently they had no thought of pursuit, “Stop there!” yelled Mr. Delorme sternly. “Stop, or by Heaven, there will be dead men among you!” | head, a look o | He covered them with a pistol, throwing the reins | | into Paul’s hands. ‘“Who are you, and what the blazes do you want?” roared Mike, whipping his horses. * Halt, I say! am not the man for you to play with, you cursed villain!” ‘*Shoot and be ——!” yelled Mike, drawing a pistol in histurn. “ That’s a garho two can play at.” His words were answéred by the keen report of Mr. Delorme’s weapon. With a cry of pain Tim dropped the reins. ‘They fell on the horses’ bac while he grasped his bleeding right hand with other. The unchecked horses began to plunge, frightened by the keen report. gut Bob Rockett had not been idie. At the first check to their sp: he had let imself drop from the carriage, and was now at the 1d4 of the uneasy horses, clutching boldly at their k the ed | birs, and forcing their heads down, as he hung by & and to each rein, A quick plunge, and then they tepped, though quivering with fear. ‘Let go, you hell-hound!” screamed Mike, firip point blank at the boy. But’ Bob wa; partly sheltered by the horses, and the bullet flew harmlessly e “You kicked me, Rusty Mike,’’ he cried back. told you then I'd be even with you.” All this had passed within a few seconds, hardly attracting attention in the Guiet street, in which there’was no person near at hand. They istol-shots had been heard, but there was n il only a few distant passers hi at the unusual sound But, George Delorme’s pistol-shot was followed by 2 Yepid movemént on his part. f ‘ung to the 14 from his carriage, withou il, and ran quickly to the other, which had just then come to rest under the influence of Bob’s bold action. Winging open the door he looked eagerly within. The next instant he started back, in a surprise that was mixed with terror. “Marie Ormiston!’ he gasped. His eyes had fallen on the form of that false wo- man, who sat there, with fixed lips and a face pale ¥ S Siler ¢ an offte ul furnedin wonder | as déath, her eyes glaring intohis face with an unconcealed terror and despair. Half reclining be- side her was the figure of Grace Garland, dead or insensible, for her eyes were closed, her face color- less, her lips bloodless. “Marie Ormiston!” he repeated, “ Oh, my God! can it be? Is this my disenchantment?” The next moment, with a sudden revulsion of feel- ing, he flung himself half inside the carriage, grasp- ed the prostrate form in his arms, and dragged “her hastily out into the street. was heard. For Rusty Mike had followed his shot at the daring boy by a quick leap down from the high seat of the carriage. Catching the reins, which lay upon the horses’ backs, he as qui oe his seat, just ble form of his petrath: e. as Delorme drew the inse ed from the car A fierce application of the whip followed. The frightened horses leaped upward, tea: themselves from the boy’s P and throwing him prostrate hetween them. Of hey went like a shot, the whip being plied with merciless vigor, while the villains stooped to avoid possible bullets, ae | the dear girl wh« vg for it to | with leving oy “Ts she alive?” asked the frightened father. ‘Yes. It is only a faint. She is all right.” “So am I,”’ eehoed Bob, picking himself up from the hard pavement, and feeling his limbs for broken bones. CHAPTER XV. THE FINAL RESULT. Wrruin the humble domicile of the Rockett famil sat the irate father of the household, his lips set with gloomy determination, the Jeathern strap firmly in his hand. For he had just learned ef his son's behavior at the factory, and was waiting for a chanee to express his opinion of such eonduct. “The ungrateful reprobate! After all my secri- fioes to bring him up decent, who'd ever thought he'd ‘a’ treated me this way?’ and he wiped his red aye with the back of bis hand, and applied for comfort to a black bottle that sat beside him. “I'll sartam- ly have to chastise him.” “Oh, but, Jaecob—” began his wife, in her whining tone. “Now you shut up, woman. It’s you that’s rvined the boy. Arter all my efforts and sacrifices, too. It’s ralely discou ing.”* At this saenhent the door opened and Bob entered, his hat set in a jaunty manner on the side of his satisfaction on his face, which speedily vanished when he perceived the prepara- tions for a domestic scene. “What's up now, dad?"’ he asked querulously. * Pon’t be lyin’, boy. I know all about your des- p’rate ungratetulness, Don’t be lyin’, I say, or 1 scorch you tenfold worse.” He seemed working himself into a fury on the strength of some metaphorical lie, which Bob had no recollection of having uttered. ‘Take off that coat,’’ he gloomily ordered, wetting his lips from the black bottle. ** Now look here, dad,” expostnlated Bob. “ Ain't that played out? Is’pose it’s my wages yer arter?”’ “ This household can’t be run without them there wages,’ was the gloomy response, ‘They're here then,”’ and the boy flung a handful of bank-notes on the table. “Ther’s more ways of makin’ money ‘cept rivet scrapin’ and I'm goin’ to back squar’ down from that bizness. I’m a capital- ist, Dad Rockett.” The father’s bleared eyes were fixed with a sort of fascination on the money. He stretched his hand with an involuntary motion toward it. **T hope it was comé by honestly,” he muttered. ‘*T hope my son ain’t took to stealing.” ‘Set down and I'll tell you all *bout it,” answered Bob, with a look of importance, as he flung his cap o one side, and seated himself easily on the corner ola cnalr. But we have no need to go over his version of the siory, of which the reader is already aware. In fact, though we may return hereafter to the story of the after life of the personages whom we have fol- iowed through these must, for the Hi sent, part company with them, with some conclud- ing words. As to what became of all our personages is not to be’ easily settled. During the occupation of the lover and father with Grace, who showed signs of a return to consciousness, the villains escaped, Some policemen came up after a few minutes, at- tracted by the pistolshots, and gave pursuit in Mr. Delorme’s carriage, at his request. But it. was in pages, we vain. The fugitives had either escaped from the city, or concealed thcmselves somewhere within its wide limits. Wherever it was they had vanished from pursuit; all efforts to find either the baser villains, or the wealthy and-polished lady fiend who had sought the murder of her friend, were in vain. The city had swallowed them from sight. But George Delorme, his eyes opened to the peril he hed escaped from the charms of the siren to whom he had half yielded himself, was full of joy at his disenchantment, and of happiness:in the love of j had heen so fortunately recovered. A month afterward a marriage took place which him the happiest man in the world. Or at least he declared so, and it is very likely that he thought so. As for Grace she looked her happiness, which was certainly not Jess than his, Among the many guests at this wedding we must not forget our friends. Mrs. Essex and herson Paul, who were installed among the dearest of Grace’s friends. Paul particularly she took as her especial protege, and was deterinined that he should have every opportunity to make.a man Of himself. In regard to the Rockett family it was of More in- tractable material. Grateful as they all felt te Bob Rockett it. was not so easy to determine just what was best to do for him, He was persuaded to go to school, to which he con- sented; more under the influence of his father’s strap than his own inclinations. Nor did he quite like to oppose the wishes of his new friends, who were providing the family with money for their su port, and who promised, as soon as he had e some progress in reading and writing, to give him a good position in Mr, Garland’s store. And so we must leave them for the present, the lovers married, the youthful members of our com- munity advancing in education, and the villainous portion utterly lost from the society which they had ceased to adorn. The valuable property, which Marie Ormiston sessed in her own right, remained in the hands of an agent, whomrshe had appointed by letter to look af- ter it, though without giving a hint as to her place of concealment. And time passed on, over this temporary lull in their adventurous lives; on to the period when @ new life of storm should succeed this calm. : THE END, ; maadce ;
Page 16
1 Deadwood Dick, THe Prince oF THE Roap; or, THe BLack Riper oF THE Biack Hits. By Edward L. Wheeler. 2 Yellowstone Jack; or, TRAPPERS OF THE ENCHANTED GrounD. By Jos, E. Badger, Jr. 8 Kansas King; or, THe Rep RicuT By Buffalo Bill (Hon. Wm. F. Cody). 4 The Wild-Horse Hunters. By Captain Mayne Reid and Captain Frederick Whittaker. 5& Vagabond Joe, THz Youna WANDERING JEW; or, PLorrine For A Lecacy. By Oll Coomes. 6 Bill Biddon, Trapper; or, Lire IN THE Nortuwest. By Edward 8. Ellis. 7 The Flying cast. By Col. Prentiss In 8 Seth Jones; or, THE tren. By Edward 8. Ellis. 9 Adventures of Baron Munchausen,. 10 Nat Todd; or, THe Fate or THE Sioux Cap- tives, A Sequel to Bill Biddon. By E. S. Ellis. 11 The Two Detectives; or, Toe Forrunes or A Bowery Giri. By Albert W. Aiken. 12 Gulliver’s Travels. A Nhe te to Lilliput, and a Voyage to Bropeinenee, 'y Dean Swift. 13 The Dumb Spy. By Oll Coomes. 14 Aladdin; or, THe WonperFot Lamp. 15 The Sea-Cat; or, Tae Wrrcs or DARIEN. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 16 Robinson Crusoe. His Life and Surpris- ing Adventures, (27 Illustrations.) By Defoe. 17 Ralph Roy, tHe Boy Buccangsr; or, THs Fouertrve Yacut. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 18 Sindbad the Sailor. His Seven Voyages. From the Arabian Nights. 19 The Phantom SPY $ or, Tae PILOT OF THE Prarie. By Buffalo ill. 20 The Double Daggers; or, Drapwoop Dick’s DeriuNxce. By Edward L. Wheeler. 21 The Frontier Angel. A RomANcE or KEn- Tucky RanGcer’s Lire. By Edward S$. Ellis. 22 The Sea Serpent; or, Taz Boy Rosinson Orusor. By Juan Lewis, 23 Niek o° the Night; or, Tax Boy Spy or "76. od T. C. Harbaugh. 24 Diamond Dirk; or, THz Mystery oF THE YELLOWSTONE. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 25 The Boy Captain; or, THe Prrite’s Daveutrr. By Roger Starbuck. 26 Cloven Hoof, tax Burrato Demon; or, THE Borprer Vouutures. By Edward L. Wheeler. 27 Antelope Abe, Tue Boy Guipz. Oll Coomes. 28 Buffalo Ben, THE Prince or_ THE PISTOL; or, Drapwoop Dick iN Diseuisr. E. L. Wheeler. 29 The Dumb Pa e3 or, THe Doge's Davax- tur. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 30 Roaring Ralph Rockwood, TH® REcx- LESS RANGER. By Harry St. George. $1 Keen-Knife, PRINCE OF THE Prams, By Oll Coomes. 32 Bob Woolf, TxHz Borper Rorrian; or, THE Girt Drap-SHor, By Edward L. Wheeler. 33 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, THz Rep PIRATES OF THE CARTBBEES, By . W. Pierce. 4 Oregon Sol; or, Nick Wuairr.es’ Boy Spy, ae t. J. F. G. Adams. 5 Wild Ivan, rae Boy Ciavpe Dovat; or, THE BrorHerRHoop or Deats. By Ed. L. Wheeler. fankee; or, THe OcEaNn OvT- ham. APTIVES OF THE F'RON- 8 3 36 The Boy Clown 1 THe QUEEN OF THE nn, Arena. By Frank 8. 87 The Hidden Lodge; or, THe Lirriz Hun- TER OF THE ADIRONDACKS. By T. C. Harbaugh. 38 Ned Wylde, THe Boy Scour. By Texas Jack. 39 Death-Face, THe Detective; or, Lire AND Love In New Yors. By Edward L. Wheeler. 40 Roving Ben. A Story or a4 Youne AMERI- cAN Wuo WANTED To SEE THE WoRLD. Marshall. 41 Lasso Jack, tHe Youna Mustancer. By Oll Coomes. 42 The Phantom Miner; or, Dxapwoop Dick’s Bonanza. By Edward L. Wheeler. 43 Dick merine THe Pony Express RIDER. By Capt, Fred k Whittaker. 44 Rattling Rube; or, Tae Nicut Hawks or Kentucky. By Harry St. George. 45 Old Avalanche, THE GREAT ANNIHILATOR; or, WILD ENA, THE Girt BRIGAND. E. L. Wheeler. 46 Glass Eye, Tae Great Suor oF Tae West. & Capt. J. F.C. Adams. ay a tee, Nat; or, Taz Forrest Caprarns. B . Harbaugh. 48 Black John, THe Roapv-AGEnT; or, THE Ovt- Laws’ Retreat. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 49 Omaha Oll, THE Maskep Terror: or, Deap- woop Dick IN DANGER. By Edward L. Wheeler. 50 Burt Bunker, tHe Trapper. A Tale of the Northwest. C. E. Lasalle. 51 The Boy ifles; or, THz UNDERGROUND Camp, By Archie OC. Irons. 52 The te Buffalo. A Tale of Girange Adventure in the Northwest. sf C._E. e, 53 Jim Bludsoe, Jr., THe Boy PHENT; or, THroves To DeatH. By Edward L, Wheeler. 54 Ned Hazel, tue Boy Trapper; or, THE PHAN- tom Princess. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 55 Deadly - Eye, Tax Unknown Scour; or, Tae BRaxpDED BroTuERHoop. By Buffalo Bill. &6 Nick Whifiies’ Pet; or, In Tae VALLEY oF Dears. By Capt. J. F. GC. Adams. 57 Deadwood Dick’s oa 9 My or, THE PARDs oF FiLoop Bar. baggie eeler. 58 The Border King; or, Taz Secret Fos. Oll Coomes, 59 Pe gage or, Panpy Exuis’s Scaup. By arry St. e. 60 The White Indian; or, THE Scouts OF THE YeE.LLowsTone. By Capt. J. F.C. Adams. 61 Buckhorn al | or, Taz Rep Rite Team. Edward L. Wheeler. 62 e Shadow Ship; or, THe Rrvat Lixv- TENANTS. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. | HALF-DIME | LIBRARY. | 63 The Red Brotherhood; or, Taz Twrtve AVENGERS. W. J. Hamilton. 64 Dandy Jack; or, THE OUTLAW OF THE OREGON Tram. By T. C. Harbaugh, 65 Hurricane Bill; or, Mustane Sam anp His “Parp.”’ By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 66 Single Hand; or, A Lire ror A Lirzr, By W. J. Hamilton. 67 Patent-leather Joe}; or, OLD RaTrLesnake, THE CHARMER. By ag s. Warne. 68 The Border Robin Hood3 or, Taz Prairie Rover. By Buffalo Bill. 69 Gold Rifle, THe SHARPSHOOTER; or, THE Boy DETECTIVE OF THE BLACK RANCH. by Wheeler, 70 Old Zip’s Cabin; or, THe GREENHORN IN THE Woops. 7 J. F. C, Adams. 71 Delaware Dick, THE Youna Rancer Spy; or, BROTHER AGAINST BROTHER, By Oll Coomes. 72 Mad Tom Western, THE Texan Rancer; or, THE QUEEN OF THE RIE. By Hamilton. 73 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or, CaLamiTy JANE, THE Heroine or WHOop-Up. By Wheeler. 74 Wawk-eye Marry, THE Youna TRAPPER RanGer, By Oll Coomes. 75 The Boy Duelist; or, Tux Cruise oF THE Sra-Wo.F. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 76 Abe Colt, THe Crow-Kitier; or, Tot GREAT FicuTinc Man or THE West. By A. W. Aiken. 77 apts | Charlie, Taz Boy Bravo; or, Drapwoop Dicx’s Last Act. By E. L. Wheeler. 78 Blue Dick; or, THe YeLLow Carer’s VEn- @Eance. By Captain Mayne Reid. 79 Sol Ginger, THE Giant TRaApPER; or, THE FLOWER OF THE BLACKFEET. BY A. W. Aiken. 80 Rosebud Rob; or, Nuacer Nep, THe Knieut or THE GutcH. By Edward L. Wheeler. 81 Lightning Jo, THE TERROR OF THE PRAIRIE. aptain J. F. C. Adams, 82 Kit Haretoot, THz Woop-Haws; or, OLp PowbrER-FAcE AND "His Demons. By Harbaugh. 83 Rollo, the Boy Ranger; or, Tur HErrEss OF THE GOLDEN Horn. By Olf Coomes. 84 ma the Girl Miners or, Roszsup Ros | on Hanp. By Edward L. Wheeler. 85 Buck Buckram; Trapper. By Captain J. F. OC. Adams. 86 Dand G. Waldo Browne. 87 The Land Pirates; or, THe LeaGue or | Devit’s Isuanp. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 88 Photograph Phil, rue Boy S.ievrs; Rosesup Rop’s REAPPEARANCE. By E. L. Wheeler. 89 Island Jim; or, THe Per or THe Famiy. By the author of “ Jack Harkaway.” 90 The Dread Rider; or, THe Texan DUELIST. By George Waldo Browne. 91 The Captain of the Club; or, Taz Youne Rrvat Aruieres. By Bracebridge Hemyng, 92 Canada Chet, THE COUNTERFEITER CHIEF; or, OLD ANACONDA IN Sittine Buu's Camp. By Edward L. Wheeler. 93 The Boy Miners; or, IsLanp. By Edward 8. Ellis. 94 Midnight Jack, THE Roap-AGENT; GopHer Grp, THE Boy TRAPPER OF THE CH By T. C. Harbaugh, 95 The Rival Rovers; or, Tus FREEBOOTERS oF THE MississiprI. B Lieut. Col. Hazeltine. 96 Watch-Eye, THe SHapow; or, ARABS AND ANGELS or A Great Crry. By E. L. Wheeler. 97 The Outlaw Brothers; or, Tae Captive or THE Harpes. By J. J. Marshall. 98 Robin Hood, THE OvTLAwepd EArt; or, Tue Merry Men or Greenwoop. Prof. Gildersleeve. 99 The Tiger of Taos; or, WiLp Karte, Danny Rocx’s ANGEL. By George Waldo Browne. 100 Deadwood Dick in Leadville; or, A STRANGE STROKE FOR LIBERTY. Pi, wheeler: 101 Jack Harkaway in New York; or, Tae ADVENTURES OF THE TRAVELERS’ By Bracebridge Hemyng. 102 Dick Dead-Eye, He Boy SmvGcLEr; or, Tue CRUISE OF THE VIxEN. By Col. Ingraham. 103 The Lion of the Sea; or, THE VAILED Lapy or San Tropez. By Col. Delle Sara. 104 Deadwood Dick’s Device; or, Tar Sian or THE Dovsie Cross, By'E. z Wheeler 105 Old Rube, tHe Hunter; or, Taz Crow Cap- tive. By Capt. H. Holmes, 106 Old Frosty, Tae Gurpe; or, NIOKANA, THE WHITE QUEEN OF THE BLACKFEET. Harbaugh. 107 One-Eyed Sim} or, THE ABANDONED For- Est Home. By J. L. Bowen. 108 Daring Davy, THe YounG BEaR-Ki.eR; or, Tue TRAIL OF THE BorpER Wo Fr. H. St. George. 109 Deadwood Dick as Detective. Edward L. Wheeler. 110 The Black Steed of the Prairies. A oe Woke of Texan Adventure. By Bowen. 111 The Sea- 3_ or, THE MIDSHIPMAN’s Leeacy. By Col. P. Ingraham. 112 The Mad Hunter; or, Taz Cave or DeatH. By Burton Saxe. 113 Jack Hoyle, raz Youna SPEcULATOR; or, Tae Roap To Fortune By Ed. L. Wheeler. 114 The Black Schooner; or, Jip Junk, THE Op Tar. Roger Starbuck. 115 The Mad Miner; or, Danpy Rocs’s Doom, George Waldo Browne. 116 The Hussar Ca i or, THe Hermit or Heti-Gare. By & . Prentiss ingrahem. 117 rege ee ve Dick, THE Sport DerrectivE; or, THE AD-AGENT’s DavuGHTER. Wheeler. 118 Will Somers, tux Boy Detective. Morris, 119 apo ecy J Samy; or, THe Kine or THE Prams. By Jos, BE. Badger, Jr. 120 The Branded Hand; or, THz Man oF Mystery. By Frank Dumont. 121 Cinnamon Chip, Tae Grau Sport; or, Tse GoupEn IpoL or Mr. Rosa. Ed, L. Wheeler. Toe ENCHANTED or, UB, or, Bess, THE FEMALE | Rock, THE MAN From Texas. By | or, | 122 Phil Mardy, Tux Boss Boy; or, Tax Mys- TERY OF THE STRONGBOW. By Charles Morris. 123 Kiowa Charley, Taz Wuirz MusTaNncEr. 2 T. C. Harbaugh. 124 Tippy, THE Texan; or, Taz Youne CHampron, By George Gleason, 125 Bonanza Bill, Mrver; or, Mapame Mys- TERY, THE I'EMALE foraEr. By kd. L. Wheeler. 126 Picayune Pete; or, Nicopemus, THe Doe Detective. By Charles Morris. 127 Wild-Fire, THE Boss or THe Roap; or, THE WoLves or SATAn’s Gap. By Frank Dumont. 128 The Young Privateer}; or, THe Prratss' STRONGHOLD. By H. Cavendish. 129 Deadwood Dick’s Bouble; or, Tan Guost of Gorcon’s GuicH. Ed. L. Wheeler. 130 Detective Dick; or, Taz Hero iv Rags. By Charles Morris. 131 The Golden Hand}; or, Danvy Rock Te THE Rescue. By George W. Browne. 132 The Hunted Hunter; or, Tux Srranca HORSEMAN OF THE Prarrig. By Ed. 8. Ellis. 133 Boss Bob, tHe Kine or THE BooTBLAcKs: or, THe PAWNBROKER’s Piotr. Ed. L. Wheeler. 134 Sure Shot Seth, tHe Boy Rirteman; or THe Youne PaTRioTs OF THE NorTH. By Oll Coomes. 135 mg, yn Paul, THE Kentucky MoonsHINER; or, THe Boy Spy OF THE Mounrams. By Clark. 136 Night-Hawk owed or, THE DAUGHTER OF 1 The Swerd Hunters; or, Toe Lanp oF THE ELEPHANT Ripers. By Fred. Whittaker. Gold Trigger, tHe Sport; or, THE Girt AVENGER. By T. 0. Harbaugh. Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, Tue Pickep Party. By Edward L. Wheeler. Mike Merry, rue Harzor Porice Boy; or, THE RancH. By hs: 2 E. Badger, Jr. 137 The Helpless and; or, Backwoops RerrisutTion. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 138 Blonde Bill; or, Deapwoop Dicx’s Home Bass. By Edward L. Wheeler. . 189 Judge Lynch, Jr.3; or, THz Boy Vier- LANTR. By T. C. Harbaugh. 140 Blue Blazes; or, THe Break o’ Day Boys or Rocky Bar. By ‘Frank Dumont. 141 Solid Sam, THE Boy Roap-AGENT; or, THE BRANDED Brows. By Edward L. Wheeler. 142 Handsome Marry, THE Boorsiack Dz- TECTIVE. By Charles Morris. 143 Sear-Face Saul, THe Srtent Hunter; or, Tue Mystery oF Fort Rane. By Oll Coomes. 144 Dainty Lance, THE Boy Sport; or, 7Hs Bank-Breakers’ Decoy Duck. J. E. Badger. 145 Captain Ferret, tam New York Derec: TIVE; or, Boss Bon’s Boss Jos. By Wheeler, 146 Silver Star, THe Boy Kyicur. A Prairie Romance. By Oll Coomes. 147 Will Wildfire, THe THOKOUGHERED; or, THe Wrnnina Hanp. By Charles Morris. 148 Sharp Samy} or, THE ADVENTURES OF A FrrenDiess Boy. By J. Alexander Patten. 149 A Game of Gold; or, DraApwoop Dick's Bie Strike. By Edward L. Wheeler. 150 Lance and Lasso; or, THE CHILDREN oF THE Cuaco. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 151 Panther Paul, Tsx Prairie Pirate; or, Dainty LANcE To THE Rescur. J. E. Badger. 152 Black Bess, Wa. Wivprire’s Racer; or, Wiynine Acatnst Opps. By Charles Morris. 153 Eagle Kit, rae Boy Demon; or, Toe Ovr- sen LAWS OF THE Gotp Hits. By Ol Coomes. 155 156 157 158 159 Tue Niaut-HAWKS OF ELPHIA. Morris. Fancy Frank of Colorado; or, THE TRAPPER’s Trust, By Buffalo Bill. The Lost Captain; or, Sxmrrr Jars Corrin’s CRUISE TO THE OPEN PoLaR SEA. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 160 The Black Giant; or, Dany Lance m JEOPARDY. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 161 New York Nell, THe Box- Oras. DETECTIVE; or, OLD BLAKESLY’s Money. By E. L. Wheeler. 162 Will Wildfire in the Woods; or, Caur Lire IN THE ALLEGHANIES. By Charles Morris. 163 Little Texas, tHe Youna Mustanerr, A 18a ne ye ee Lrg By Oll Coomes. andy ock’s edge; or, Hunrep Deatu. By G. Waldo Browne’ . = 165 Billy Baggage, THe RamRoap Boy; or, Roun To Eartu. By Charles Morris, 166 Hickory Marry; or, THz Tram or Free. By Harry St. George. 167 Asa Scott, THe Steampoat Boy; or, Tar Lana saa aes OF — Bussieerres, By kd. Willett. ash; or, Fientmre Fie wrra Free. By Jos. E. Badger. 169 Tornado Tom; or, Insun Jack Frem Res Corr. T. C. Harbaugh. 170 A Trump Card; or, Wm. Wiprmr Wie and Loses. By Charles Morris. 171 Ebony Dan; or, THe Rrvat Leacuys os Srtver Crrc.e. ‘By F. Dumont. 172 Thunderbolt Tom; or, Taz Wotr-Hmepre OF THE Rockies. By H St. George. 173 Dandy Rock’s Riva < Tae Howrrs Mam or Taos. By George aldo Browne. 174 Bob Rockett, THE Dopeer; or, Alys- TERIES oF NEw York. By les Morris, 175 Captain Arizona, THE Kine PIN or tus AD AGENTS; or, Patent Leather Joe's Big me, By Philip 8.Warne. 176 The Boy Runaway ; or, Tar Bucoanerr "7 oF = mem gee 7 D. a By Ba Dee 7. °o ck of Nevada, Ww. om. Ready December 14th. — A new issue every week. The Half-Dime Library is sale Newsdealers, five cents per COPY, oF ae’ by I. - receipt of six cents each. BEADLE & ADAMS, Pub , 98 William Strect, New York.