Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 225) (1881 11 15)
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Poe @< x px oo clyZ Lal falafel * oe A ee Mea! \ = \ ™ 2 |p ! m4 AS Winn! ial a bat acts Sar | alin Ie NS $2. a year. Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., at Second Claas Mail Rates. Copyrighted in 1881 by BEADLE AXD ADAMS, November 15, 1882, , Single PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Price, Vol. }* @ Be mat No, 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents. No. 225. SAM CHARCOAL, THE PREMIUM DARKY; or, How the Boy Got Even, BY CHARLES MORRIS, AUTHOR OF “‘ BOB ROCKETT, THE BANK RUNNER,” ‘‘ BOB ROCKETY, THE BOY DODGER,” ‘WILL WILDFIRE,” ‘‘ DARK PAUL,” ETC., ETC. SSeS he eens ~S “J Vg aye = < i “ TURN HIM THIS WAY, TILL I POLISH OFF THE LEFT SIDE OF HIS NOSE, HERE, AIN'T THAT A BEAUTIFIER!”
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Sam Charcoal, — THE PREMIUM DARKY; oR, How the Boy Got Even. BY CHARLES MORRIS, AUTHOR OF “BOB ROCKETT,” “FRED HAI- YARD,” “ wild. WILDFIRE,” “ Tom TANNER,” ETC., ETO, CHAPTER I. ‘WHAT CHARCOAL DID WITH THE PAPER. _ “§rop, you sooty-visaged imp of Satan! Stop, I say, you essence of double-distilled mid- night, before I split an inkstand on your cast- iron skull!” _“ Bress ye. Marse Hunter, isn’t I stoppin’? I ain’t beett dott nothin’ but stoppin’. And I ain’t gwine to do nothin’ but stoppin’.” ~ “None of your tricks, now! Tell me what ou did with that paper, and quick as greased igltning too, if you don’t want to take a prom- inent in a funeral.” Of the two ee to this dialogue. one was a swarthy-faced gentleman, of some forty years of age. He seemed a Southerner by his dress and accent, and his face, while handsome, had in it something that was not altogether Maret 4 What it was could not have been easily told, yet a good judge of physiognomy would have distrusted him. The other was a comical-looking negro boy, of pure African descent, for he had the flat nose, thick lips, and large eyes, with an extra allowance of white, of the genuine stock; while his hair was a mass of twisted wool, through which only a steam carder could have pulled a comb. He was dressed in a sort of livery which added to the oddity of his appearance, a cream- colored coat with facings of red which made his lexion seem ten times blacker than na- ture had intended. And when he grinned, as he was much in the habit of doing, and showed his white teeth and rolling eyes in contrast with his dusky skin, he looked the picture of good- nature and comicality—like the Premium a ad that he was. young —— was standing demurely up- right, with as solemn a countenance asif butter would not melt in his mouth, before his angry milaster, whose embrowned cheek showed the red hue of choler, us he fixed his eyes fiercely on the innocent-looking boy. The latter scratched his head in a helpless fashion, and put on an expression of the utmost stupidity. “Fore de Laud, Marse Hunter, I lef’ ’um jiss whar you said. Dis nig can’t read nor write but he knows figgers. Der’s no mistake "bout it; Llef’ ’um jiss whar you said.” “You lie, you villain! You lie, blast your ugly complexion! Brown swears by all that’s good and bad that you have not been near his office. Out with it now! What did you do with it? Or do you want me to choke the truth out of you?” boy’s goggle eyes rolled in apparent ter- ror, as he gazed stupidly at his master, loeking as if all the sense had been scared out of him. “TJ lef? um at de number you said,” he re- ted. ‘Dunno if Lawyer Brown’s name was r or no, ’coz I can’t read writin’. But de house had a brown front.” “A brown front!” roared Mr. Hunter, half starting from his chair in sudden spleen, ‘ Hang meif this isn’t a new way of reading a man’s directions, by the color of his front door! Why, you black catamount, Brown’s house is all brick —red and white, and you’ve made another of your rascally blunders.” ee **T lef? ‘um at de number,” reiterated the young dark, “ At number 606?” “Jiss so. Dat’sdeplace. Jiss whar you said, I knows dar was no mistake, ’coz I ’served dem figgers partik’ler. One ol ’em was upside down, jiss as if de painter stood ow his head when he drawed it,” and the boy broke inte a laugh as if he saw something bi 5 comical in the idea, “On its head?” cried Mr, Huater, with quick suspicion. ‘‘ What the blazes do you mean? Take that peneil, blast you! Make the mumber. Let me see what it was like.” The boy took the lead-pencil offered him, and with much pains, anda plentiful use of his tongue, he managed to trace an awkward repre- sentation of the number 609. ‘Dar it am, jiss as 1 tole you. Only de fust one was a-standin’ on his head, an’ de last one on his tail.” sam Charcoal, the Premium Darky. onds with a sort of stupefied astonishment, as if such stupidity was igs wary his comprehension. He then rose slowly from his chair and .took him by the ear, bending him forward till his nose touched the paper on which he had written. ‘* What do you that?” he roared. ‘‘Dat am six hundred and six, only de lass six is got a sort of tumblo; for all de world’s if - it’d been playin’ circus.” ? “It is six hundred and nine, you hound! Do you hear, it is six hundred and nine! You have taken the paper to the wrong number; you charcoal imp! And if you’ve made any mis- chief, shoot me if I don’t hang you up by the two ears! Away with you now, and get the paper where you left it, and take it to’606, on the other side of the street, mind you.” **Bof of ’em a-standin’ on der heads?” asked Sam, as if the idea was just making its way into his thick skull, “Yes. Like this,” and Mr. Hunter made the correct number on the paper. Coal looked intently at it. He then burst out into a low aw. *“An’ what do dey call’um, when he gits round on his tail?” he queried. “Nine. Remember that, now. Nine. This way ibissix. Off with — now, like a greased cat through a knot-hole. Get the paper and take it to Mr. Brown’s office, at 606 across the street. Do you understand?” “Got all dat down fine,” assured the young oot. ‘¢ Then slide.” His master made for him, as if with the in- tention of aiding his exit with the point of his boot. But Coal had evidently been put through that drill before, and didn’t care for a new les- son. He stooped to avoid the threatening boot, shot in a crouching attitude to the door, and in an instant was outside, and beyond the reach of his angry master. He closed the door quickly behind him, and darted hastily down-stairs. But, once arrived in the at the foot of the irs, and safely out of sight and hearing of his irascible master, a change came over the aspect of Sambo, or Sam Charcoal, as he was usuall called. He broke into a low laugh which shoo alnut, his whole frame as if it was made of jelly. He ut his thumb to his nose and twirled his fin a most disrespectful fashion. He winked to some imaginary spectator. He seemed com- pletely running over with ey roens. “Oh, de marcy!” he cried, between his bursts of laughter. ‘‘Oh, de Laud! Was dar ever an. y in sicha stew? Ef ole Marse Hunter on’y knowed, wouldn’t ‘he skin dis little nig? m a-showin’ me how to make nine,’s if I didn’t know! S’pose he t’inks Coal ain’t got no eddication! Oh, de bressed saints, I can’t git ober it!” f The young monkey stood on his head and kicked up his heels against the wall, as if to re- lieve his feelings in that way. ** pose I didn’t know dat a nine was on’y a six upside down?” he ejaculated. ‘“‘ Didn’t have no notion I war gwine to git a ’rithmetic lessen from Marse Hunter. Ef he on’y knowed!” A door opened on the floor above. In an in- stant Sam regained his perpendicular and made for the door. It might not prove healthy to be caught going through his present exercises. _Meanwhile, in the office of Smith and Her- ring, a legal firm which did business at 609 Wal- nut street, the two partners were engaged in an affair of considerable moment, judging by their interest in it. < Smith was writing rapidly, but carefully. He seemed to be copying a legal decument which was spread out before him, while Herring | sat with his chair against the office door, as if to prevent intrusion. \ “Why, it’s a regular windfall,” exclaimed the latter, with infinite satisfaction—‘‘a com- bomanza. Luck helps them ‘that help ete hemselves, they say.” . “TI fancy we were helped,” replied Smith, leeking up from bis work. ‘‘We have te thank the blunder of the little darky, who has made some ridiculous mistake.” “‘ At any rate we aro helping ourselves mow,” laughed Mr. meee as he pointed significant] to Smith’s eperatiens. ‘I tell you what, Smith, I was in despair of eur client’s case. But if this is werked well it may put a very different face on the matter.” “Oh, dry up! Den’t bother me!” Sage Smith. ‘You made mg’ then put an ‘it’ fer a ‘he.’ If Iam to de this jeb correctly you will have to set a lock on your jaws.” ““[? Why I haven’t said a werd for a month. You never saw such a quiet fellew. My talk wouldn’t disturb a dead meuse,” Mr. Hunter looked at tho boy for some sec- “Get out, now, before I throw a copy. of Blackstone at your head,” laughed ith, ‘*Hist! There comes somebody.” The door was tried atthat moment. It failed to open, and a loud knock was given it. ‘*'Ten minutes,” whispered Smith. ‘Get me S Terme tes and partl ed the doo erring rose an y opened the door. ‘Excuse us,” he began. A We are very busy now with a special client.’ In ten minutes— Hello, Coal, is it you?” ‘**Tt’s jiss dis ’dentical nig,” came a melodiotis pha er pet wT Coal’s a tg eal med itse the opening of the door. “Ts arter dat eer which I lef yere by mis- take. An’ ef 1 don’t get it in quicker ner no time Marse Hunter’s gwine to hang me up and skin me. An’ I’m afeard dat wouldn’t agree wid wa See pe constertution.” ; Mr. Herring slipped out and closed the door behind him. faced Coal with a very stern aspect of countenance. ‘Do you know, you young rascal, you've been trying to get us in trouble, and that if we seryed you right we could send yeu to the State’s prison?’ A look of terror came upon the Premium a face. ““W’at’s I been doin’?” he asked aes. “eh. — Fag Penge d but op ou eg at’s C) paper, ie e berry cratch, ** You have interfered with our professional honor,” sternly replied the lawyer. ‘‘ You have laid temptation in our way of a kind which, according to the Revised Statutes—but wait. I'll read yeu the law.” Coal grasped the back of a chair to support himself, while his rolling eyes follewed the movements of Mr. Herring, who had taken down a sturdy law volume, and was deliber- ately opening it, in search of some passage. The boy followed his every movement, as if in mortal fear ef the contents of the boek. The grave-faced lawyer had just begun to read some involved law language which had no more meariing toSam than so much Choctaw, but which affected him the more the less he un- derstood it, when the door of the inner office peared. “What does the boy want?” he asked. Hunter sent me arter dat paper.” cs: Here it is,” returned Mr. Smith, banding him a felded document. ‘Now scoot! And be more careful te hit the right place in future.” The young dark eagerly snatched the paper, and shot like a black comet out of the office. He wanted to get out ef reach of that dangerous law book, ere any more of its ey ype terrible contents could be fired eff at him. A few minutes afterward he broke hastily into Mr. Brown’s office, on the other side of the street. ‘*-Yer’s de dockyment!” he ejaculated, slam- ming it down on the table, much to the discom- fiture of the quiet lawyer, who had not looked for the advent ef a black thunderbolt into his office. ‘‘ Dat’s de paper as Marse Hunter’s been raisin’ de berry Ole Nick about, and a-cussin’ dis little nig all roun’ de nerth pole. Dat’s de identercal dockyment,” With another slam on the table, that made uiet Mr. Brown give another slight start, oal turned and made fer the door, disap- pearing as suddenly as he had come. At the same mement a conversation of some importance was takin ig ea across the street, in the office of Smith Paine. ‘* By the seven saints!” eried Smith ae: ‘“‘T have given the boy the wrong paper! Mo has got the copy and I have kept the eriginal!” «Bho deuce you say!” answered Herring. “ Jupiter, Smith, that will be awkward if they discover it.” “But Brown knows nothing of the hand- writing or signatures,” replied Smith, more easily. ‘ between you and me, the copy wasn’t bad. If it muster it will be all have the eriginal to show.” ** And the cepy?”’ ** Den’t trouble about that. If it don’t end in the fire I know nothing about John Hunter. They have a meat case against us, if they only we ae but I'll wager high they make a blaze of it. CHAPTER Il. SAM CHAROOAL IN TROUBLE. “ Loex yere, white feller, ye do dat ag’in, PU bu’st yer wiler, saah!” ~ [2 — ; : : i
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e- The Premium Darky was surrounded by a p of boys, who were making him the butt of ir tricks. His eyes rolled comically around, seeking some avenue of escape from his tor- mentors. ‘Hear till the dirty nayger!” cried the ring- leader of these, a boy with a very much turned- up nose and freckled face. “Give t till him, boys, He aco. pg be in the menagerie.” ** Ps as good as any ob de white trash, if I is brack,” answered Sam, indignantly. Tiss you go way now.” His tormentor answered by snatching a pitcher of milk held by a little fellow who had stopped on his way from the milkman’s to see the rn. This, with a quick movement, was poured on Charecoal’s curly wool, and ran down in white streaks over his face, giving him a most absurd ce. ap " he outraged boy stood moveless, the white fluid trickling out from his thick wool and run- ning down in little rivulets, which were in very strong contrast with his sable skin. The vagabonds shouted with laughter, dancing and capering around him, heedless of the cries ef the urchin who had lost his milk, and who was shedding tears ef anger into the empty pitcher. ‘‘ Look at the nig! Look at the nig!” shouted the ragged circle, ‘‘ He’s got his face in livery. My eyes, ain’t he a jolly white black-bird? Got any more milk there? Let’s give him another baptize. on Charcoal made a d rate effort to es- cape, but he was surrounded by boys larger than himself, and was cualeee in their midst. Let's straighten out his hair!” cried one of the tormentors. ‘And pull out his nose! We'll makeawhitechapofhim. Tell you what, boys, we whitewash the nig. hat’ll be the jolliest fun out.” He had buried his fingers in Charcoal’s hair, and was pulling bard to straighten the tangled wool, not much to the little darky’s one EeO *Luf go my hair!” yelled * Luf ’um ge, ’fore I bu’st ye!” His laughing pares answered by takin another turn of his fingers in the tangled woo This was more than flesh and blood could stand. Sam grappled fiercely with the young ruffian, and in a momertthey had tumbled into the dirt, where they rolled over and over, pummeling each other savagely. The other boys formed a pr 5 laughing and s¢reeching, and. taking sides with the combatants. ; ‘‘Give it to him, Patsy! Pelt it into the nig- r! Roll his nice red coat in the mud! Give im a jolly good ruffle!” _ “Goit, Sambo! Go it Charcoal!” roared the other faction. ‘-Gouge him! Fill his mouth with dust! Ain't they a pair of Kilkenny cats!” The fight ended in the discomfiture of Sam’s assailant. The indignant darky had taken the advice given bim, and bad crammed a handful of dust into the mouth of the other, so choking him that all the fight was taken out of him. Coal broke loose raised himself to his feet, his livery so covered with dirt, and his face so streaked with a mixture of milk and dust, that he was hardly recognizable. The other boy crawled to his hands and knees, choking and sputtering. ; “Look at Patsy. Look at Patsy!” cried some. “He's eatin’ dust just as if he liked it.” y ‘“Give it to the nigger! The likes of him comin’ to lick white folks! Rattle him, boys! Rattle him!” yelled the freckled ringleader. “ Served him right,” roared others. ‘‘ Let the ni ger go.” ‘ young dark, who had been standing in their midst, showing the whites of his eyes as be rolled them around the circle, took advan- tage of this triendly disposition of some of his tormentors, and mado a sudden rush to escape. The freckle-faced lad who wanted to ‘rattle him” happened to be in the line of his retreat and, lowering his head, Charcoal dashed against him with the fury of a wild bull. The young vagabond was struck her awidships, and was doubled up like a jack-knife by the vigor of the assault. He tumbled and rolled on the ground, howling with pain, while his assailant, pels | 7 are in the lines, ech oe away at fu speed, followed by the yellin 8, who were not content to lose-tliedres hnened easily. It was an open lot, in the southern part of the city, where this scene had taken place. The fugitive ran toward the nearest street, in hopes of protection. The mischief-loving vagabonds who had been worrying bim followed, yellin to him tostop. It was a sharpchase, but end in the recapture of the fugitive, a dozen hands closing on his collar, and dragging him back into the midst of bis foes. Sam Charcoal, the Premium Darky. Charcoal, panting from his opeetionnshy eyes starting with terror, his face smeared till it was of every color between white and black, pre- sented an extraordinary Be ery He look- ed so ridiculously abs that the boys sur- rounding him shouted with fun. “Tell you what, fellers,” cried one of the crowd, ‘‘let’s chalk him white! I’ve got a lump of chalk here. Hold him tight, and we’ll make a full-blooded American of him.” Charcoal struggled to escape, but could not break loose trom the strong hands which held him, Fettered hand and foot there was noth- ing but his tongue at liberty, as the young ar- tist began to fresco his face. Wiping off the original coating, he chalked a great variety of lines and figures on the black background, until Charcoal’s face became grotesque beyond de- scription. The prisoner threatened and implored to be let loose, but he might as well have talked to so many Hottentots. ‘*Turn him this way, till I polish off the left side of his nose.—There, ain’t that a beautifier? Now s’pose we make some circles round his right eye. My stars, if he only knowed what a beauty he’ll be!” At this momentSam managed to get one of his feet free, and. he dealt a vicious kick that took the fellow before him in the shins. With a scream of pain the latter loosed his hold. Kicking again to right and left, the boy madea momentary diversion in the sof his foes. Partly breaking loose, as they hastily drew back from the well-played battery of his heavy boots, he bent himself half double, and butted his hard head into the mid ps my of the youth- ful.artist, who had been so intent on decoratin his countenance. The latter doubled himse up, with a howl of pain, and Charcoal had al- most escaped the moment’s con- fusion among his foes. But several of the older .hands firmly held on to him, and his vigorous efforts to esca ‘* Let’s give hi at Jones’s stables,” proved a failure. a bath in the horse- md, over suggested one o the crew. ‘“‘He wants the dust washed off his nice coat. Snatch him, boys! Fetch him along!” Sam fought flercely against this new indig- nity. His hands were pinioned, but he used his feet with disastrous freedom. His assailants, however, knew something of the tenderness of a negro’s shins and returned his kicks with such good interest that the boy yelled with pain and rage. He had provoked an assault upon the weakest part of his citadel. “Don’t ye do dat now! Oh laws a mercy! Oh, de bressed saints! Lefme fo! Tain’t done nuffin’ to none of you. Oh de laws, I'll go wid ye! What you p kickin’ me fur, when I ain’t done nufiin’?” And Sam danced as if he had been standing barefoot on hot pe while he broke up these exclamations with yells and ns of pain His vries were not quite unheeded. A young lady, who hada minute before made her ap- arance ina neighboring street, now hurried ward the group of boys from whom the cries proceeded. Her face was full of indignation as she porsaived that they had a helpless boy in their st whom they were tormenting. In a minute or two more she had come up with the group. ‘How dare you?” she cried, ‘ you miserable little cowards!” Her voice was full of indigna- tion, ‘Release that boy immediately! If there was a policeman at hand I would have you all arrested.” Some of the vagrants drew hastily back at this rege command. But two or three of e the bolder still held on to Sam Charcoal’s shoulder, as if reluctant to give up their prey. But the young lady was evidently a paren of ener; She quickly stepped forward, laid her hand on the negro boy’s arm, and drew him to- ward her as she fixed her eyes with command- ing indignation on his foes, : ‘You cruel young ruffians!” she exclaimed, “If you stay here a minute longer I will see if I cannot find some means to repay you for your barbarity.” J ery. Dig There was such an impressive dignity in her looks and words that the street va nds in- voluntarily drew back, and gradually retired, as if reluctant to abandon their prey. . ly after they had withdrawn to some dis- tance did the fair rescuer turn her eyes upon the subject of her benevolent effort. m was gazing into her face with a look of deep gratitude, and with some other indefi- nable meaning in his eyes, which was not easily to be fathomed., It was all thrown away on her, however. She looked at him for a minute, her face be- came siranenly. contorted, smothering sounds were heard in her throat, finally she burst into of laughter which she had been press, ! if you knew what an object you are! wongare me, my boy, but I cannot hel dl and she laughed again, more merrily chart he ore, Ner was her mirth reduced votes: grin of response which broke out on Charcoal’s be- grimed and frescoed face, and which made strange ornamentation iook ten-fold more ridiculous than befere. “They’s been a-chalkin’ me, missus,” he ex- plained, as he rubbed his hand over his face, changing its lines and circles into one eae of dull white, that was certainly no addition to his beauty. “For mercy’s sake, go somewhere and wash our face,” she laugh ““Come with me, my y- They won’t disturb you while in my Pie a f ghs stood at a littl © group of young rou at a little distance, viewing with reluctance the loss of their prey, and echoing the involuntary mirth of the young lady with a screech of discordant laughter. Charcoal turned toward them. “‘ Jess see ef dis nigger don’t git his turn!” he ejaculated. “Tt am nice fun to yank de darky’s wool and kick his shins, but I’m gwine to git my fun outen it ‘fore de year’s ober. Jiss you bet on dat, you miserable loafers!” _— He ain, and followed his fair rescuer, without rther notice of the boys. _ There was a remarkable grace and beauty in the lithe, swa ing form of the Mr person who walked lightly onward in advance of her pane follower. And her face was no less eautiful than her form. The delicate, well cut features were those of the highest of blonde beauty, and were full of changeful lights and shades, displaying, under all their softness, something of that energy which she had just so strongly shown. . , She was young, perhaps not over eighteen qoere of.age, and had all the bloom belonging to hat first prime of womanhood, when the warm life of the girl is just shading off into the fuller but more sedate life of the woman. Sam Charcoal gazed prin pf on his con- ductor, and on the sheeny folds of the light silk dress that set so neatly on her well-shaped form. There was a look of peculiar his face that did not seem called forth by the situation. On gaining the shelter of the street she turned to her sable follower, a smile of amusement again coming into her face as she caught sight of his comical countenance. “Now you are safe, my boy,” she said, in kind accents. ‘‘Go wash your face somewhere as soon as ble, and come out in fast colors again, for you do not know how absurd you You dunno how ’bliged I is, missy,” an- swered Sam, with titnde. “I jiss wish Vi have a chance to t fur you sometime, ’coz Td give all my wool for you. An’ I’s gwinc to pay it back on dem boys, too, as s as I is de Premium Darkey.” “You had best: keep away from them. The are too many for you. What is your name, you say?’ “Y's got two names, but dey calls me Charcoal more dan any oder—Little Charcoal, for short.” “Little Charcoal, eh? It is more chalk than charcoal just now, I fancy,” was the laughing response. ‘Well, go get washed, and keep clear of such vagabonds in the future.” She walked away, leaving Sam’ standing and following her with his eyes. She had done her duty in rescuing, and probably in an hour after- ward would forget bis nce, Notso with the young darky. He had deeper reasons to re. member her, ‘“T didn’t give her my t/other name. Didn't tell her I was Sambo,” he so: ized. “8S? she’d knowed me ef I hadn’t been chalked up. Bress me, but little missy has got to be lubly! And to think that she didn’t know Sambo, that “ she played wid when she was a picaninny! Don’t catch Sambo forgettin’ her. No, sah, or he ain’t a Premium Darky no mo’.” He continued t% gaze r ber until she was lost to sight, and then he turned away in search of the nearest pump. CHAPTER IIL. A FAIR YOUNG CLIENT. WE must return to the office of Smith & Her- ring, at a date somewhat earlier than that of our former visit to the domicile of these legal gentlemen. They were, on this occasion, closeted with the young lady whose acquaintance we ee ' , bs knowingness upon —
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tT +b made in the last chapter, but who now wore a very different expression of countenance, * In fact, she seemed perplexed and in nt, and one would have said at a glance that some great trouble had come upon her. “ We should be glad to take up your case, if you had one,” said Smith, leaning back in his chair, and with his thumbs carelessly inserted in his vest pockets. ‘‘ But you see, miss, that even a Philadelphia lawyer must have ‘some- thing to work on. Now you seem to have no evidence.” “Will the young lady pase repeat her story?” queried Herring. “I did not get the pith of it.” “Oh, you mustn’t mind Smith!” returned Herring briskly. ‘‘ He does the shadow busi- ness for the firm. I do the sunshine, There has got to be somebody to look on the dark side of a case, aswell as somebody for the bright side. Why, if you'd bring Smith the full moon he’d swear there was something very doubtful about its light. Let me hear the story, Miss m. ‘“‘Pil engage that we find a sound case rou.” The young lady had risen and stood as if about to take her departure. But a new look came into < face at this assurance, and she re- h “It is not a very long story,” she began. **My father died about ten’ ago, leavin me hisonly heir. But his estate was involved, and his appointed a trustee to settle up his outstanding business, and to act as guardian for me while doing so.” ‘“Your father lived in North Carolina, and was parece. in the opEerune business?” “Yes, »” she replied. ‘‘ And he also owned a plantation. ‘What's the name of this trustee?” ‘“* John Hunter,” ‘Precisely. And a slippery fellow to deal with, too, 1 fear. I happen to know that same John Hunter. He treated you fairly, you say, until now? Supplied money for your educa- tion, and your other needs?” “He never refused me until last week,” she replied, her eyes filling with tears. ‘‘Then he rudely told me that he had no money of mine, that the settlement of the estate proved that my father was penniless, and that he had been mak- ing me advances out of his own pocket.” Aha!” exclaimed Smith, suddenly interested. “And did he require you to pay back those advances?” “Oh no, sir! He said he was willing to lose them for the respect he bore my father.” _ “Very suspicious! Devilish suspicious! iixcuse m iss Eldon, but this man is too confound: y generous. It looks bad. He isn’t the kind that brings up young ladies free of ex- nse. “Then you think he is seeking to rob me of my Pecpert ? she nervously asked. ‘Why, it looks confoundedly like it. But the evidence, you know—the evidence is the thing. It doesn’t matter a fig what we believe. Judges never go by faith. They are queer about proof. hat is the evidence that this man has robbed you? That’s the point.” ““T have none,” she hesitatingly answered. ‘* He has all the pagers. There might be some evidence found at Salisbury, in North Carolina, ‘but [ have none here.” Mr Herring shook bis head. “That involves money, Miss Eldon—a great deal of money.’ And I should judge from what you say that youare not too well supplied with that n article.” ‘* He has left me penniless,” she replied, with a flush of color in her cheeks. ‘‘ But I thought —could you not pay yourselves out of proceeds of a suit?’ ‘‘ If there are any proceeds.” ‘‘Oh, there must be!” she cried, with energy. “‘T know my father was wealthy. John Hunter las robbed me, tlemen. He thinks me weak and helpless, and that he can cheat me with im- punity.” “But, dear me, Miss Eldon, all this proves ‘nothing. One good piece of evidence would go further in our courts than an ocean of senti- mental appeals. We lawyers can’t undertake to do business on charity.’ ‘* Were you asked to do so, sir?” she indig- nantly questioned, rising, with a hot color in her face. ‘I am not here as a beggar, I would have you please remember that.” She w to the door with a dignified step. Smith and Herring exchanged si t glances, There was something very like a wink in Herring’s right eye. Mr. Smith hastened po- litely forward ine the door, “One moment, Miss Eldon,” he exclaimed. eas on oe "t oe ser aiid He “e n spoken. He’s got a er tongue, fh fact, and lets out the truth a good deal too easily fora lawyer. You must give us a few days to look into this matter. Of course, if we see anything in it, we will fight for youto the death.’ “Tf you see any money in it for yourselves?” ‘“*T am very much afraid that is the way Herring looks at it,” answered Smith with a deep sigh. ‘‘Heisso very practical. I am a sentimental sort of fellow myself, but I can’t do anything with enh e’s a regular dol- lar and cent lawyer. ive us a week, Miss Eldon. We want time to hear from Salisbury. If there is any money in it for us there will some for you.” ‘* And can I do anything in the mean time?” ““Yes. We would like you to call on your guardian and get a plain refusal from him to supply Mane needs. Get it in writing if you can. You are not of age yet?” ‘T am eighteen only.” “Dear me! that is very young for such un- pleasant business. Good-day, Eidon. We will be ready to decide in a week.” After a few words more she left the office, very much disco by the result of her visit. There was likely to be a long and bitter fight before her. Clara Eldon had been brought up as the only child of a wealthy parent. After her fa- ther’s death she had been freely supplied with funds by the trustee of his estate, and had never known want. Therefore, to be now curtly informed that the estate was exhausted, and that no advances could henceforth be given her, was a bitter and une ted blow. She had fallen from affluence to beggary at a mo- ment’s notice, and was as helpless in this condi- tion as it was was dazed, as it were, and overwhelmed by the sudden and undreamed-of stroke of fortune, On leaving the office she stood for a minute on the door-step, some | with troubled eyes into the street. She failed to perceive a little chap on the pavement close beside her, whose eyes were fixed intently upon her face. In fact, this silent admirer was of so sable a hue that he seemed to make darkness all around It was little Charcoal, John Hunter’s raven-hued page. As the boy stood thus intently © yey, Fer the saddened face of the young lady, a hasty step was heard in the hall, and the full face of ay a made its appearance, as if in great aste. ‘*Oh, Miss Eldon! Excuse me, he! 7 thought you had gone. By the way, if you ..culd call on John Hunter, do not say anything avout en- gaging Smith & Herring as your lawyers. It’s always best not to spring the trap till it is baited, you know. Never put your enemy on his he ‘Thank you, sir. I will say nothing.” She walked Lope away. “That's settled, anyhow,” said Mr. Herring, ‘rubbing his hands with satisfaction. “It’s best see which side has the most money in it, be- ‘fore we tie ourselves. If Hunter would bleed freely, now?” He turned and walked back, with a look of peculiar rascality upon his face. Sam pushed out from his covert by the wall, looking very much interested. ** Tt’s little Missy Eldon, suah,” he exclaimed. “‘ And they’s a talkin’’bout Marse Hunter’s if he were tryin’ to cheat her. Laws a mercy, but things is a-lookin’ queer!” He drew a folded document from his pocket and looked at it intently. 1t was the paper re- ferred to in our first chapter, and , forsome reason, had taken the idea that it had some reference to the young lady he had just seen. “gs take this to ole Brown, at .” he con- tinued, ‘An’ ef dar’s any blunder ’bout it Marsé Hunter’s gwine to skin me. Dat’s what he said, and I ralely do b’lieve dat man’d as lieve skin a nigger as he would an eel. He’s terrible re cuaoe to t th though’ his e continu gaze at the paper, thoug eyes took several excursions around the neigh- oon ee Eldon’s gaged lawyers yere,” he con- tinued. ‘Ef dis oat on’y ’ford to make a mistake now, and luf de pa at de wrong lace! Oh, de goodness, wouldn’t dar be fun in le plantation |” _ His eyes at this moment became fixed on the sign of Smith & Herring, with the number of the building near it, This number was 609. always too. ible for any one to be, She Sam Charcoal, the Premium Darky. Charcoal continued to look at these figues for some minutes, while a broad grin slowly estab- lished itself on his face, puffing out his buge A till they looked like slices in a watermelon. e suddenly dashed into a breakdown on the pavement, as if filled with glee. , ‘* Ps got de idee!” he declared. ‘‘T’s got de idee! I’s gwine to do’t an’ stan’ all de confab- beration. But lawsee, won’t dar be a rakin’ ole time ef Marse Hunter smells de rat. Dis nig’d best git his life insured fust.” Without further hesitation he plunged into the open door of the building in search of Smith & Herring’s office. We have already seen some of the re- sults of Charcoal’s resolution, in the keen lawyers’ keeping the original of this document, and serving Mr. Brown, John Hunter’s lawyer with a copy. There were destined to be stil later results. We must now go forward a little to record another movement in the legal game. This was the visit of Clara Eldon to her guardian, to de- mand money, as advised by her counsel. John Hunter received her in his sitting-room, with all the polite suavity which he could assume when requisite, The illy-repressed indignation of his fair visitor failed to ruffle the smooth equanimity of his demeanor, ‘“‘Tam very sorry, my dear ward, I am ex- een d sorry that it has turned out so badly. I have doneeverything. You do not conceive how Ihave worked over this nag Yet 1 could see ears ago, years ago, at your poor ther’s esta af. hopelessly involved. Iknew I was advancing my own money, but I could wnedk oy to see you in want in your helpless outh. “Oh! and I am very helpful now, am I not? You have brought me up to such a useful life! I am so well able to go out and work for my living!’ her tones were full of bitter sar- — S I certainly should feel deeply grateful ou. ay have but done my duty,” he replied, suavely ignoring her sarcasm. ‘‘I do not ask you for gratitude. Of course it is gratifying find that se appreciate my efforts. As for the money I have advanced, Miss Eldon, I will never require a return of it. I gladly lose that much for the sake of the daughter of my old friend.” There was a look of sanctimonious self-satis- faction on his face that filled her with anger. “IT would sooner starve than keep your money,” she bitterly replied. ‘If I believed it was your money, which I do not, I would beg the means to repay you. Do you intend to ‘vance me the interest of my estate in future, sir, or am I to understand that you intend to deliberately rob me?’ ‘oie ag had any estate, my dear Clara, I would be only too happy. As it is—” “Then you distinctly refuse?” : ’ “TY must decline until the orphan’s court has passed upon my statement of the account.” ‘*Very well, sir. Then there is nothing fur- ther between us. I must look elsewhere for justice. She walked with a Gueenly dignity from the room, leaving him with a look of inquietude upon his face. His soft expression eg ape on her departure, and was replaced bya look of cold shrewdness. “Hang the girl, if I thought she had so much fight in her,” he ejaculated. ‘ It is only a flash in the pan, though. I haven’t brought her u in a way to give her mental backbone. An as to fighting me without money and without evidence, she does not know much about the constitution of lawyers if she fancies that any of them will touch such a case.” He rubbed his hand with wpe satisfac- tion. He had sprung bis well-devised trap. Had he really caught his game? Any one who had seen the expression of Clara Eldon’s face as she left Gan ous might have had doubts. Helpless as he had sought to make her there was a hereditary energy in her nature that was not to be killed out by a false education. CHAPTER IV. HOW CHARCOAL GOT EVEN. “Gap to see you, Brown. Take a seat and make yourself comfortable. You are looking ridiculously well for a lawyer.” John Hunter pointed his visitor to a chair and continued lazily stretched out in hisown. The legal gentleman was a little man with a very rave face, and looked as if he carried all the ignity of the profession on his narrow shoul- ders. He seated himself deliberately. “You are not looking so well yourself, Mr. Hunter.”
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Sam Charcoal, the Premium Darky. fir. 5 **T should think not. Why, I’ve been through a regular course of s ts. Here I am in the hands of the doctor, and that is next door to signing a man’s death-warrant. Haven't I just sent my boy out for three different bottles of medicine? and each nasty enough, I'll wager, to make a dog sick. Thank the Lord, there’s one way out of it. I can empty the bottles out the window and get well in spite of the doctor.” ‘¢No, no, don’t do that!” exclaimed Brown, with some energy. ‘‘ Professional dignity must 08 considered, sir. You would not insult the doctor’s jud ?” ** Stick out for professional ignity even if the patient kicks the bucket, eh? ell, you law- ers and doctors are a blamed queer set, and it’s about as dangerous to call in one as the other.—See here, Brown, did Charcoal bring you the paper?’ ‘Did he? Yes,” exclaimed Mr. Brown. “That boy is another of your odd whims. Why. the coal-black little fiend burst like a wild bull into my office, slammed the document down on the table in a way to make me jump out of m boots, and roared out, ‘Dar’s yer ole paper!’ Good heavens, man, why do you keep such a fiend about you?” ; Mr. Hunter lay back in his chair and: burst into a hearty laugh. “‘Isn’t he a lump of rascality?’ he ejaculated. “He has re genius for mischief and blunders, hy, I can’t half enjoy life without that boy. Do you know he made the most ab- ent in that ae ‘surd bhander in such a simple thing as the taking the decument to your office.—Bu that some other time. the statement? That’s the question now.” ‘‘T have not examined it yet,” answered the lawyer, aay, «Wot examined it? Come, Brown, that’s not business.” : ‘* But, my dear sir, you must not imagine that your business occupies all my attention. I have some few other fish to fry.” “Oh! hang other people’s sturgeons; I want you toattend to my whales first. That isan important affair, my boy.” “No doubt. Everybody’s business is the most important in the market.—So you really think the girl means a ‘“‘It looks remarkably like it. She comes from anold Revolutionary stock, you know.” But leaving the lawyer and his client to finish their conversation, we will follow the Premium ow who had been sent to the drug store to et the medicine whidk the doctor had ordered or his master. There were three bottles of medicine in all, and Sam listened very gravely to the druggist’s directions, as the latter proceeded to label hous The boy’s eyes opened wide, as if he felt he was undertaking a weighty responsibility. ‘* Dis big bottle’s torub on his chest,” repeated the messenger, doubtfully. ‘‘ What de bressed good ’ll dat do? © ’Sides, Hunter ain’t got no chest. I neber see’d none *bout de house. S’pose he’ll hab to rub ’um on his trunk.” “Very well,” laughed the druggist. ‘I fancy the trurk will answer aswell. But this is what we mean by the chest, my boy,” and he laid a finger on his breast. _ ‘Dat? Now you is foolin’. Dat’s on’y a breastpin. Can’t see no good nohow, in rubbin’ medicine on a breastpin. How’s dat gwine to cure de fever-an-ager?” The druggist continued to laugh, as he put the bottles in Sam’s basket. “Very well. He can take these two bottles internally, according to directions,” he re- marked. ‘‘Take dem two bottles infernally, ’cordin to directions?’ repeated Coal more mystifie than ever. ‘‘See yere, Mister Doctor, you’se pokin’ fun at me now, suah. He’s to rubde big bottle on de breastpin, and take de two oders infernally, ’cordin’ to directiqns, Dem’s mighty cur’us directions, I’s a notion. S’pose de dector oughter know, but dis nig don’t prove ob de treatment, nohow.” Shaking his head doubtfully, Charcoal left the store, not sure but that he had his master’s: death-warrant in the shape of those three medicine-bottles, He would have been very well satisfied to make him good and sick, but did not want to quite kill him. The druggist re heartily, as he followed with his eyes the rolling form of the little darky, who was shaking his woolly head ominously as 4é moved lazily on. But Sam was not destined to arrive safely home. He had a genius for adventures, and was continually getting into one trouble or an- other. This often happened from his taking the longest way round, and stopping at every Tl tell you What do you think of. point where he found anything to interest his va t fancy. this occasion he followed his usual wan- dering fashion, and strolled around to a favorite play-ground of the boys, in hopes to find some interesting game of marbles, or some other high-toned amusement in operation. he place me just then to be deserted and Coal seated himself lazily on a rounded stone, as if worn out with his exertions. He rolled his sable countenance from side to side, perhaps in hope of some available mischief. The opportunity came in the shape of his two foes of a few days before, the ringleader of the gang which had assailed him, and the boy who ad frescoed his face with chalk. Sam’s eyes glittered, and a broad grin came upon his face, on making this discovery. “Bound to git even wid dem chaps, you bet on dat,” he said to himself, as he .cogitated on the best means of revenge. His eyes fell on his basket, with the medicine bottles, and an idea came to him that set his black face shining like the full moon, ‘*Laws a massy! won’t dat be _ ? he ex- claimed. ‘‘I know dem fish. Dey’ll bite suah.” The two boys, ee and Patsy, to give them the names they usually went by, had Fan dis- covered their late victim. They looked at each other significantly. “‘There’s that haythen ae ag’in,” said aces tt a broad brogue. ‘‘ He butted both on t us to’ther day, Patsy. ‘“‘Sure an’ he did,” replied Patsy, rubbing himself suggestively. ‘* We've got to git even wid the thafe,” Patsy’s eyes were fixed attentively on their intended vietim. He did not quite understand the young dark’s movements. The latter had taken a large bottle from the basket by his side, and was extracting the cork with his teoth. This successfull ror megs he put the bottle to his lips, and seemed to take a long drink from it. He then wiped his - with a loud ‘‘ah!” of satisfaction, and licked his hand, as if he could not bear to lose a drop of the precious mixture. He turned quickly on hearing footsteps near him, and hastily replaced the cork in the bottle, with a look of discovered guilt. “We've cotched you, you dirty thafe!” cried Teddy, with glee. ‘‘So you’ve been sent to the store, and yer puttin’ the bottle in yer black naygur’s mouth?” “* Won’t his boss make him skip whin we post him ’bout this?’ suggested Patsy. ° ‘‘T ain’t done nuffin’, I were on’y a-smellin’ to see if it was sp*iled,” cried Charcoal, in well- assumed alarm. *Can’t put that down our throats, nig,” ex- claimed Patsy. ‘‘ We see’d you drink it.’ ‘“‘ Drink meéd’cine?” eried Sam, with a forced h. ‘S’pose I’s fond of med’cine?” ‘“Won’t go down, nig. Wesee’d you. Got to gi’n us a Srink, or we'll blow on you.” “Go way now! Ef Marse Hunter notices it, he’ll sw’ar it’s all me. Jiss don’t, you tech it, or I'll bu’st ye.” Teddy, during this. talk had slipped around Sam, and now seized the large bottle from the basket, and held it up in triumph.” ‘“‘Pve got it, Patsy! I’ve got it!” he cried in glee. es e’ll have a drink too, as well as the ayeger.’ a Fat dat alone!” exclaimed Charcoal, in well counterfeited anger. ‘Ill tell Marse Hunter ef you tech dat bottle.” ** So’ll we tell him,” retorted Patsy. ‘‘ We’ll tell him that we see’d his nigger drinkin’ out of it. Take your swig, Teddy. I'll kape the darky off.” Sam had risen to his feet, but Patsy stood threateningly before him, with doubled fists, while the other young vagrant seated himself, pulled the cork from the bottle, and prepared to enjoy the stolen sweets, as they fancied they chad seen Charcoal enjoy it. The angry look on the latter’s face concealed a secret glee in his heart, as he saw Teddy lift the bottle to his lips, with a contemptuous wink at his foe, , _ “Don’t you take more nur half,” cried Patsy, in some alarm. ‘I want my sheer. I bet it’s good, the way the nigger licked his fingers.” Teddy made no answer, for the contents of the bottle were just then gling into his mouth. Aninstant more and there was a great change in the state of affairs. He jerked the bottle hastily from his lips, with a yell of pain and d . “‘Oh Lord! Pm p’isened! I’m p’isened! The nayger has p’isened me! Oh the blessed mercy! Punch his head, Patsy. He’s p’isened me.” He sprung wildly to his feet, and flung the / bottle from him, while he clapped both hands: .on his stomach, and ran off with wild leaps, screaming at every jump: ‘‘T’m p'isened! ’m p’isened!” The Premium Darky, his shiny face distorted with laughter, sprung for the bottle, which hap- pily had landed upright. “‘Dar’s one’s had his rations,” he grinned. ‘Now fur de oder.” oes stood stupidly looking after his flying comrade, whose yells were now growing ter in the distance. He failed to perceive the movements of Coal, until the latter slyly caught him by the collar, and with a quick jerk anda skillful trip, extended him on the broad of his back. In an instant more he was a fast pris- oner, Charcoal kneeling on him in such a way as to confine his arms and — “You an’ Teddy Hogan played it on de little nig t’other day. It am de nig’s turn now. Teddy’s had his drink ob ‘lasses an’ honey, and Ts gwine to gib you your drink.” “Oh, don’t! Ob, you'll p’isen me, like you did Teddy! Oh! help, help!” But threats and prayers and cries for h were alike thrown away on the dark. Wit his black face ina broad grin of delight he de- liberately proceeded to carry out his mis- chievous design. , Inserting a stick between Patsy’s. teeth during one of his —_ for help he prevented him from closing his mouth, and proceeded coolly to pour the nauseous compound down his captive’s throat. ‘De doctor wouldn’t send it to Marse Hunter ef it were p’isen,” remarked Sam, ‘ But I guess it aren’t berry nice. Am dat enuf, or does de little feller want some more?” Patsy could not answer. He was choking, luttering and groaning to such an extent as alarm his grinning foe. Ch hastened to set him free, with the remark: ‘*Quess he don’t like lasses an’ honey! Good- by, little boy. Come ’round ag’in when you want somefin’ nice,” Patsy sprung to his feet, contorting his face and body as if he had swallowed liquid fire, and uttering fierce threats of revenge on his grinning foe. ‘*Oh Lord! water! water!” he shouted. ‘‘I’m ag | up! I’m all afire inside!” e set out at full speed in the footsteps of a his eyes starting, and the tongue hanging from his mouth. ‘“Wonder ef dey won’t luf de nigger ‘lone arter dis?’ queried Coal. ‘Ef dey don’t I'll gib ’em some more "lasses an’ honey.” e turned to his medicine-bottle, at which he looked with some alarm. ‘“Lawsee, dey’s took half ob it! Marse Hunter ll raise a lubly row ef he misses it. Bress my —e I’s got to do somefin’ or de Premium arky’s gone up!” Ahappy thought suggested itself at that moment. The largest of the other two bottles was filled with a liquid of the same color as that in the open bottle. He might average the contents of the two bottles, and thus conceal the considerable loss from the larger bottle. Without a moment’s further consideration Charcoal proceeded to put this design into execution.. He pulled the cork from the smaller bottle and emptied a portion of its contents in- to the other. Then holding both bottles up he took a survey of their respective conditions, ° “*Guess T got too meh, dat time,” be said, shutting one eye to observe better. ‘ Better pour some back to square up de bottles, Won't neber do for marse to find out.” He continued to pour back and forward until he had got the contents of the bottles to his fancy. But by this time he had made a neat mixture of the liniment and the medicine, and there was a strong chance of fun in the Hunter household when the invalid came to swallow the Premium Darky’s mixture, But unconscious of any impending mischief Coal corked up the bottles and deposited them in his basket with immense satisfaction. “Dar, dat’s to de p’int. Marse Hunter ’ll neber find out dat dere’s been any. ’sturbance.” He took up the basket, and walked home with a perfectly contented conscience, CHAPTER V. A VERY PECULIAR ACCIDENT. CLARA Epon, considerably downcast by the result of her interview with John Hunter, yet now doubly resolved to fight for the estate of which she was sure she was being robbed, had called again at Smith & Herring’s office to re- port Bite z ' ‘He plainly intends to set me adrift,” shg
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Sam Charcoal, the Premium Darky. mused. ‘‘It may be as he says; the estate may be exhausted; but, I do not believe it. Yet I am left utterly penniless. I must find some means to make myself a living. He knows this. He knows that I will be unable to pay legal fees, and thinks that I will not have the courage to fight him. He imagines that he has a safe opening to rob a helpless orphan.” “Why, it looks like it,” admitted Smith. “Take a seat, Miss Eldon. You must be tired.” ‘Not at all, sir. Besides, you gentlemen gave me to understand that you could not take up my case without a fee, or without strong evidence in my favor. Now I have veither to furnish you, so I must wait for time to aid me, and must look elsewhere for counsel.” She walked in her stately way toward the door. She had not forgotten or forgiven their cool reception of her former advances. Smith looked at Herring. There was a sig- nificant expression upon his face, as he pointed to the poor girl, seemingly without a friend in he. Bio's quick as lightai the trigger,” b ‘She’s quick as lightning on the trigger,” he whispered. ‘‘ Bring her Rode Herring. But mum about that document.” e cuse me, Miss Eldon,” exclaimed Her- ring, advancing with a great show of concern. “ Why, you must not take our little professional pleasantries for earnest. We should be yery much put out, indeed, if you were to alloy other ceunsel after applying to us. Of course we will take up your case, and trust to luck for payment. he turned quickly to the speaker. ‘Oh, sir! But that is asking.too much of ” ou. “Not at all. Not at all. We lawyers have _ got souls, Miss Eldon. We are not quite dried- up law briefs inside, as some folks would make out. Give the matter into our hands, and I war- rant we squeeze John Hunter.” ‘‘ And trust for your fee to the successful ter- _ mination of the suit?” she asked, with caution. Certainly, certainly!” cried Smith. ‘ But we promise to bleed you then; to bleed you finely,” he laughingly continued. ‘ You will find us cormurants of the worst type. You know we are taking a big risk, and will very likely get nothing.” “Don’t mind him, Miss Eldon,” centinued Herring. ‘‘ His bark is worse than his bite.” ‘I shall be willing to pay well if you are suc- cessful,” she returned. ‘Qh, of course! But we'll not bleed you too badly. Do take a seat. I have twenty ques- tions to ask you before we can gointo thing atiaentty | Despite their odd manners Smith and Herring were shrewd lawyers, and at once began to lay the foundations for the case they had taken, by a series of questions bearing upon the former life of their fair client, and of her recollections of her father’s affairs. But she had been too young at his death to have any useful remembrance, and was able to give them no information of special importance. While this conversation was taking place, a conference bearing on the same question, was being held at the office of Mr. Brown, on the opposite side of the street. John Hunter, his ient, was seated in a chair facing the lawyer, a serious look on his face, “You find the documents of importance, then?” he asked. “I should say so,” answered Mr, Brown, with unusual energy for him. “If it comes into court it will require some very awkward ex- Laem ae Very Sexes aioe I fear,” ~ suppose those explanations are not forthcoming?” “Then John Hunter may find himself in a tight place.” Suppose it does not come into court?’ A look of deep cunning came into Mr. Brown’s face. Evidently his sense of honor did not go Gece ‘* Mt might prove dangerous to withhold it,” he cautioned. ‘‘Our opponents might know of its existence.” ‘ Mr. Hunter took a cigar from his pocket, and mets bit off the end. “You don’t object to smoking, Brown?” ““No. Not at all.” “‘Have you that document handy?” he asked, as he lit a match. “Yes, itis here.” He extracted a folded pa- per from the heap before him and passed it over to his client. ; The latter tly unfolded it, and glanced carelessly at the signature. “Yes, that’s it,” he said, proceeding to light his cigar. ‘ _ This done he, in a careless fashion, held the corner of the r to the flame of the match. In a moment it had kindled and was blazing. “So you think it would be a dangerous ar- ticle to keep in the house, eh, Brown?” “What are you doing?’ exclaimed Mr. Brown, starting from his chair. ‘‘ You must not destroy that paper in my office! It is a penal offense to destroy that paper!” ‘*Eh!” exclaimed Mr. Hunter, with a show of surprise.. ‘‘Why, bless me! the thing has caught fire. That’s very awkward indeed. Have you any water handy, Brown? We must 64 — hold h ht @ sprung up, holding the paper upright, with the burning end downward, so that the flames shot up toward.his hand. ‘*It will be burnt before we can find any wa- ter,” he cried, running across the floor in such a way as to create a wind, which helped the con- sumption of the paper. By this time the flames had,reached his hand, and he flung down the paper in the grate that occupied one wall of the room. ‘It’s too confounded unlucky!” he ejacu- lated. ‘‘ But it was an accident, Brown. You must bear me out it was an accident.” “Cannot you save the remainder?’ asked Brown, with a funny look in his little eyes. ‘‘ Something might be made of it, you know.” “You don’t want me to burn my fingers I hopes Of course we must make every proper effort to save it; but no one is required to set himself on fire.” He seized the tongs and made several wild ef- forts to take up the burning fragment of the per. But he only succeeded in placing it in a better + hone for the flames to consume it more rapid “T am afraid it is doomed,” he said, laying down the tongs with a sigh. ‘It was the most incomprehensible accident. How did I ever set it on fire, Brown? And then it was so unaccountable that you had not a drop of wa- ter handy.” “You might have thrown it down and stamped out the fire,” suggested Brown sadly fear the Eldon estate ma id all I could to save it. rown. Have a cigar, eh? me in a smoke.” oe beg’ I won't mind,” answered Brown. And the two precious villains lay back be- hind their cigars, as if quite oblivious of the fact that they had just committed a rascally and unlawful act. They might not have felt so comfortable, however, nor the smoke have curled so neatly upward, if they had been aware of the fact that they had destroyed only a copy of the document, and that the original la locked in Smith & Herring’s safe. John Hun- ter’s haste had prevented his perceiving that he held Nagel a skillfully made copy of the docu- men : After a smoke, and a conference of some length, in which the subject-of the burned docu- ment was not even alluded to, Mr. Brown’s client Prepared to return home, his business er, oe uded. “You see, I’ve been foaling confoundedl blue of late,” he remarked. ‘‘A sort of chil and fever. This is one of my off days, but it shakes me like sin sometimes,’ “ Have ren been taking medicine?” “No. I hate the rasca) ly stuff. I’ve got two or three messes, made up by Dr. Bolus, nasty enough I suppose to set a dog’s teeth on edge. I have been looking at them these two days, trying to screw up my courage to attack them.’ **Come, come, that won’t do,” exclaimed the little lawyer, shaking his head in violent dis- approval. “You will never get well if you neglect your medicine. Come, promise me you will take it.” t “Ugh! I su e I will have to,” groaned Mr. Hunter. ‘“‘I’ll uncork the stuff when I get bome, and if I can muster up courage, down it goes.—Good-day, friend Brown. Pray for me.” With aloud laugh Hunter left the office. half-hour afterward found him at home. Char- coal answered his peal at the bell. ‘“‘ Ha! Blackjack, you’re here, eh? It’s very kind of you to be in at this time of day,” was the sarcastic greeting to the boy. Nor was it Ne for Charcoal had a way of his own of disappearing often when mest wanted. : ‘““Where did you put that medicine you brought in from the druggist’s?” ‘ ou know that, You’d best join “‘ De med’cine?” answered Ch his eyes opening. ‘““Why, I put ’um on de floor, in de basket.” “The deuce you did! And what floor, you jackanapes?” é mene rn — — age . et it, then, and bring it into the sitting- room. 4 want to sample it He walked away, while Charcoal went some- what reluctantly for the bottles. The possible effects of his manipulation of the drugs began to trouble his young mind. He had got the contents of the bottles evenly averaged, but it just struck him that the mixtures might not be just those which the doctor intended. The fate of Teddy and Patsy troubled him. ‘““What are you loitering about, you sable hound?’ roared his master, as Ch came ingerly forward with the bottles. ‘Brin them: here.—Bless my eyes, Dr. Bolus don’t want me to swallow all that, ‘hope. I'll be nee if I do, then!” “Dis is to rub on de trunk, so de ’pothecary said,” answered Charcoal. “On the trunk! What does the fool mean?” snatching the bottle. ‘Oh! it’s a liniment, eb? Yo rub on the chest, not on the trunk, you donkey. Thank the stars I don’t have to swal- low it. Let me see the others.” Charcoal held them out at the full length of his arm, holding back as if afraid they might explode, while his eyes rolled in anticipation of a coming cyclone. But without noticing this strange behavior of the boy, his master took the two bottles and looked at their labels. ‘“‘A teaspoonful in a glass of water, to be taken just before the chill,” he read on the smaller. ‘‘ Well, that doesn’t come in to-day, atany rate. Let us see the other.” The directions on the other bottle were, ‘A table: nful every three hours.” ‘f right. DPve got to break ground some- where. Bring me a tablespoon, Charcoal.” The boy obeyed, and returned with the spoon, though with unusual hesitation. ‘* What ails you, you little devil? Fetch it here, I say!” roared his master, who had by this time extracted the cork of the bottle. He jerked the n from the reluctant hand of the boy, who immediately retreated to the wall, where he stood with protruded tongue and starting eyes, watching every movement of his master with extraordinary interest. ‘‘T suppose it’s bad policy to sip it,” remarked Mr. Hunter, holding upAhe filled spoon, ‘“ The sooner it’s down the’ sooner the confounded business is over, so here 3 He put the spoon to his lips, and with one gulp swallowed its contents. At the same in- stant a deep groan came from ], as if he could no longer restrain his feelings. The effect of the draught was remarkable. The invalid stood for a single instant as if not quite sure whether he had swallowed honey or gunpowder. Then a sudden contortion came w his face, while a yell of agony issued from lips. Clapping both hands on his stomach, he writhed and twisted as though he had swallowed liquid fire, while Charcoal stood looking on with a growin, grin on his mischievous face. ‘Oh, Lord! Oh, fire and brimstone!” yelled the writhing man. ‘I’ve poured a whole blazing voleano down my throat. Water! water! Some one bring me a bucket of ice- water. I’m all afire inside!!” These cries were followed by a volley of curses deep enough to make the skies turn blue, while he continued doubled up in agony. “Hal you grinning villain, have you any- thing to do with this?” he shouted, on catching of Charcoal’s face, on which enjoy- ment of the scene had taken the place of its original dread. ‘‘You infernal black-jawed imp of darkness, you'll laugh at me, will you? Take that! And that! And that!” As he spoke he caught up one bottle of the medicine after another, and hurled them witha sure aim at Charcoal’s head, They broke on his thick skull, and their parti-colored contents came streaming in rivulets over his black face, giving him a most grotesque appearance, ‘* And that!” The spoon followed the medicine. Fearing that it might be succeeded by a chair the boy made a mad break for the door, and dashed pe: from the room, from which there followed him a perfect volley of groans, yells and curses, as though a host of demons were holding high carnival there. Charcoal made the best of his way from the locality, quite satisfied with his first effort at drug mixture,
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CHAPTER VI. A LIVELY DINNER PARTY. “Ir is a most extraordinary thing,” said Dr. Bolus to another gentleman, as they stood to- gether in the drawing-room of John Hunter’s residence, ‘‘He swears I tried to poison him. why the medicine I ordered the man was as mild as a May morning. The druggist must have made some awkward blunder, for he vows that he swallowed a dose of pure dynamite.” “ They say he threatens to cowhide the drug- gist,” laughed the other. ‘‘I’d like to be by and see it. It would be royal fun to see old Laudanum dancing ey drugs.” ‘*IT wonder if he has taken some of the lini- ment by: mistake,” queried Dr. Bolus. ‘If he did he might well fancy there had been a fire kindled inside him.” ‘* Hush! here he comes.” At that moment John Hunter entered, dressed in party costame, and with a smile of welcome on. Goed ak tl I lad to “Go ay, gentlemen, | am gla see you, I’d sooner see you socially than professionally, friend Bolus, after that pleasant experience you put me through. Hang it, your treatment was rather too heroic. But I haven’t felt any sign of a chill since. You quite burnt them out of me.” **Here’s some blunder,” answered Bolus. “The medicine I ordered would not have made a child squirm.” _“*Old Laudanum swears he put the prescrip- tion up correctly,” returned Mr. Hunter. “ Was that under compulsion?’ “Oh no! I only threatened to crack his bald pete, and to break every bottle in his store. ut there was no compulsion.” ‘*'You have queer ideas about compulsion,” laughed the third gentleman. ‘‘ But could any- body else have made the trouble? Who else handled the medicines?’ ‘* Nobody but post aid-de-camp; a rascally little nigger we Charcoal. And by Jove, the boy did act queer,” he exclaimed, with a start of remembrance. ‘‘If he’s been playing a trick on me, hang me if I don’t murder him, At this moment Charcoal entered, with a half- frightened look on his face as he gazed at his master. : *Dar’s some gemmen down-stairs axin’ fur you, Marse Hunter,” he announced. ‘*Show them up.—But see here, Charcoal, I’ve gene you at some of your old tricks. What did you do to that icine when you brought it from the drug-store?” The boy’s face might have grown pale if it had not been of such midnight blackness. Hisknees trembled, and his utterance became stammer- ing, 'Fore de Lord, I didn’t do nuffin’ wid "um, massa! I brung ’um square home, jiss ’cordin to d’rectiens.” ‘*-You didn’t put anything in them?” ‘* didn’t fotch nuffin’ ’oept what de ’pothecary guv me. Dat dar’s de Gospel trufe.” ‘* Hang you you black-snouted rogue, et lie. I can smell the lie all through you. find it out yet, blast you; and if Ido 1] pull out your toe-nails one by one.—Off with you now, and show those gentlemen up.” Charcoal was glad to escape. But there was a broad grin on his face when he got outside the door. “I didn’t put nuffin’ in de bottles,” he solilo- quized, ‘‘But I’m desp’rat’ af I kinder mixed t’ings up. Oh, Lawsee, isn’t it fun?” and he doubled himself up on the stairs, while his black face shook with suppressed laughter. The gentlemen who ust come were fol- Loe several others, until a party of some size had assembled. In fact, it was a dinner of his gentlemen friends to which John unter had invited these guests, and others whom he yet expected. ‘ He had all the Southern hospitality, and made them welcome with profuge demonstrations, “Glad to see you, Mr. Jones. The same hearty fellow as ever, eh?—Thomson, my good fellew, how wags the world with you?—How d’ye do, Brown? You're here without a brief to-day, but you’re brief enough yourself to an- swer. You can appoint these gentlemen a jury on the cold meats; Jackson, there, can be judge of the champagne, and you cay advocate the claims of the reast venison. you'll be at home, you see.—Welcome, Masters, You're late, but the day is young yet. You can make up for lost time.” : At this juncture dinner was announced, and the ty filed inte the dining-room, where a most appetizing repast was prepared, _A lively conversation followed their discus- sion of the first course. During this discourse, : ‘ Sam Charcoal, the Premium Darky. Charcoal, who was installed as one of the at- _tendants, entered with a large roast of beef on an immense dish. He carried it gingerly before him, his tongue protruding as he fixed his eyes anxiously on his charge, and planted one foot after the other with the greatest caution. “What is this I hear about something in the shape of a joke?” called one of the guests across the table. ‘‘ How is this, Mr. Hunter? Folks say that old Laudanum, the druggist, has been — you.” “Not much,” answered the host. “It was that confounded nigger boy of mine. Han his black skin, ’ll pepper him well for it yet.” At the commencement of this remark Char- coal had taken his eyes from his charge to fix them upon his master. As the latter went on, the boy’s knees began to shake, and the plate took a dangerous slant downward, Unseen by him the smoking roast slid nearer and nearer to the-edge of the dish, until, just as Mr, Hunter ceased speaking, it came with a heavy thud to the floor, followed by a stream of red gravy. All eyes turned hastily upon the boy, who stood trembling, his face a picture of terror, while he held the dish extended before him with his eyes fixed in utter bewilderment upon its empty surface. “Devil take me!” cried the host, furiously rising. ‘‘This is too much of a joke, Why, you sable-tinted son of Satan—” He did not get further in his speech, for at this moment the dish slipped from Charcoal’s unnerved fingers and dropped with a loud crash to the floor, splintering into fifty pieces. ‘De laws bress us!” ejaculated the boy, with a deep groan of horror. In a moment he turned, and made a headlong dash for the door, followed by his master, who was foaming with aay ‘‘ Hoicks! Heicks! Stole away! Stole away!” cried one of the guests, an old fox-hunter. ‘“‘Atter them, gentlemen |! After them! Let’s be in at the death.” They all sprung to their feet, with shouts of laughter, and made for the door, through which the chase had disappeared. : But the next room was empty, and only a dis- tant roar, mixed with frequent oaths, told the direction which the pursuit had taken. Ina few minutes Mr. Hunter returned, some- what calmed by his violent exercise, “Excuse me, gentlemen,” he exclaimed. “But a saint could not have stood that in quiet; and I’m not much of a saint.” “Did = catch him?” asked one of the laugh- ing es ‘Catch him! no. You could catch a weasel as easily. The rascally young Hottentot, I have several scores to settle with him! Pray be seated, gentlemen, I will have the ruins re- moved, and I fancy we can make a dinner yet.” A waiter came in and removed the remaius of Charcoal’s unlucky venture, while a rattling conversation, not unmingled with a good deal of sly laughter went on around the table. Other dishes were brought in, and dinner re- commeneed, the rattle of knives and forks re- acing the hum of conversation as the guests evoted themselves to the main purpose of their Panag ty leaving the lighter duty of talk until Lat A taken off the first sharp edge of ap- petite. While this progress was being made in the dining-room other matters of interest were taking place in the kitchen. This locality was tenanted by the cook, a fat- faced, good-natured Virginia negress, and a young colored fellow, who was aiding her in the mysteries of the dinner, Charcoal poked his woolly head in at the crack of the half-open door, and looked cautiously about. 4 ‘Ole marse ain’t yere, eh?” he asked, in a loud whisper. _ ; “Now you git out, you ugly little rat, or ru shy a bone at yer head!” cried the cook’s as- sistant. ** Ain’t yer ’shamed to show yer nose yere, — what ye’ve done?” indignantly asked the cook. “Fore de goodness, I couldn’t help ’um,” as- serted Charcoal, pushing into the kitchen, with a broad grin on,his shining countenance. ‘ De laws! ye neber see’d such fun. If Marse Hun- ter ’d grabbed me den, wouldn’t I cotched it! You bet de little nig did stampede.” “How come you to drop the meat?” “‘ He skeered me, dat’s why,” answered Char- coal confidently. ‘‘He sai put sumfin’ in de med’eine, an’ de laws knows I didn’t do nuf- fin’ ob de kind.” ‘ ‘‘You done somethin’ to ’em, you scape- grace,” cried the cook, 7 Charcoal seated himself on a chair, and laughed till his sides ached. ’ ‘“ Dey kinder got mixed,” he admitted, ‘ Dar was one med’cine dat war to be rubbed de trunk, or de breast-pin, one or t’oder. Dunno what de bress’d g it wartodo. Toder war to be took infernally, ’cordin’ to d’rections, Dat’s what de druggist said. I tole ole marse dat, but I’s feared de two bottles got mixed.” e continued to laugh at his recollection of the striking effects of his operation. ‘*T knowed it war some of your tricks, Char- coal,” laughed the cook, who had no objection to a joke that was not played on herself. ‘You oughter have your ears cropped, you lit- tle villain. Hand me the salt there.” The grinning boy picked up the huge salt- cellar, and started across the kitchen. “ Hold this a minute,” said the cook’s attend- ant, handing him the cover of an ice-cream can. “*T want to see if it is hard enough.” Charcoal, confused by the number of his com- missions, held the cover at arm’s length in one direction, while the hand that held the salt- cellar hung immediately over the open can. The young man was looking for his wooden spoon, with which to try the cream, ‘‘ Hurry up there, little lazy-foot!” cried the cook sharply. ‘‘ Are you going to keep me all day waiting for that salt? Xt this sharp appeal Charcoal started so sud- denly as to spill half the contents of the salt- ar in the ice-cream can, Unconscious of what he had done, he hastened across to the irate mistress of the kitchen, while the young man proceeded to stir up the cream, quite un- conscious that it had received an addition to its ingredients. ’ ‘What have you done with the salt? 1 thought that was full,” cried the cook, Charcoal d into it innocently. ‘** Bressed if I knows,” he ejaculated. Meanwhile the young man had mixed his cream thoroughly, and replaced the lid of the can, saying with a satisfied air: : “There, that’s ready anyhow. It’ll be as hard as ice by the time they wantit. You don’t catch me making any blunders, like Char- coal here.” 1 ‘*'Yes, it am all Charcoal,” exclaimed that worthy, indignantly. ‘‘ Charcoal done dis, an’ Charcoal done dat, an’ Charcoal done ebery- t’ing dat’s out o’ gear. I’s gittin’ bout tired of it. “Dar’s no use layin’ all. the blame on coal. I ain’t no wuss nor half de oders,” * All right, picsanizns, | said the cook be- nignantly. ‘Never mind, little one, 4 06 ‘I ain’t done nuffin’ else, anyhow,” declared ““An’ I couldn’t help spillin’ de smoothly for the rest of that day, But there’s many a slip between the cup and the lip, as Charcoal was destined to find out, The dinner continued to progress until it reached the dessert, when Charc much against his will, was sent into the dining-room to help clear and reset the table, He askance at his master while d ready to drop all and run if he saw a @ move- ment. But the host contented himself with scowling, and Charcoal was allowed to proceed in peace, In a few minutes the dessert, consisting of pud- dings, ices, and various other tempting viands, was Hroagatap and arranged, and the waiters prepared to help the expectant guests, ere were some wry faces as several of them tasted their ice cream. In most cases it was pushed aside without a second taste, and the guests devoted themselves to other viands. Mr. Hunter looked hospitably after the com- fort of his guests. , ‘*‘Come, Mr. Brown, you’re not eating any- thing,” he exclaimed. ‘Try the ice cream, It’s a warm day, and you need something to cool you.” ; Mr. Brown ventured upon another spoonful and then pushed aside his saucer. “Tam not as fond of cream asI once was,” he remarked. “I will try your peach pie in- stead. That’s one of my special weaknesses,” “Well, you're not so cold-bleeded, Masters, Come, ae will find it prime.” Mr. Masters dipped the LP into his saucer, and swallowed a mouthful of the chilly mix- ture. He said nothing, but his face expressed anything but gratification. ‘*What’s wrong?” cried Mr. Hunter suspi- ciously, glancing around the table, until his eyes fell upon Charcoal, who stood in supreme satis- faction that his skirts were clear this time,
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an involuntary tremor ran through him at threatening But this gaze. “ Bring me some of that cream,” commanded the host. He took spoo into his mouth. The next instant he ejected it again, with a look of di t. up a brimming nful, and put it ““Salt as Lot’s wife, by thunder!” he ejac- ulated. ‘‘No wonder you are all making sour faces over it. Ha, Charcoal! stand there, you villain!” The boy had been slyly edging toward the door. ‘‘So thisis another of your tricks, eh?” A apogee laughter was going the round of _ the table. “Fore de bressed saints, Marse Hunter, it warn’t Charcoal dis time! Sure’s you lib I had nuffin’ whateber to do wid de cream.” “‘ How’s this, Joe?” asked fhe host, turning to the young man whe had charge of the cream. ‘*Ts this your work?’ ‘Not muth,” answered Joe, a light of re- membrance breaking into bis eyes. ‘I recollect now,'Charcoal stood over the can with a dish of salt'in his hand while I had my: back turned. He must have dropped it in then.” **Then, by the seven blessed pipers, he shall iow every ounce of it, if it chokes him!” and the irate master of the feast made another dash at his mischievous servant, too furious to think of the demands of decorum. Charcoal, who had been edging toward the door, now slipped out, and the chase was renewed, more vigorously than before. The guests sat laugh ng around the tuble until Joe, who had followed the chase, returned to the room, his face full of anxiety. **Won’t some of you gemmen go the kitchen?” he asked. ‘‘ Mr, Hunter has cotched Charcoal, and is ramming the ice cream down his throat. Dar’ll be ‘der if it goes on.” The laug ests hastened to respond, and found the irate host in the kitchen, with Char- coal extended helplessly on his back, while he was pressing the freezing mixture by great spoonfuls into his mouth, the boy choking and yelling at every opportunity, while his furious master was cursing ke a demon. “Let him go,” cried the laughing guests. “You will choke him to death.” But the maddened host would nof desist till he was ed by force from his helpless prisoner whe had been served with a greater feast of ice cream than he had ever been lucky enough to receive before. lt was a little too much, in fact, to judge by Charcoal’s movements, for he sprung to his feet assoon as released, and made wildly for the back door of the kitchen, his eyes starting out like milky balls, and his face an ashy hue with fright. io was his speed lessened by the furious oaths which followed his flight from the lips of his irate master. CHAPTER VII. THE MYSTERY OF THE LAW. SEVERAL weeks have passed since the date of our last chapter. These weeks have brought little change in the circumstances surrounding our characters. Clara Eldon is still with the friend whom she had been visiting at the date of the opening of our story, but the marked difference’ in her fortunes has oe her a very uneasy feeling. It was perfectly in rule to pay a long visit when she felt that she had the means of returning the favor; but now it began to look like charity}‘and she was eager to leave and take her chances in the battle of life. But what she was to do she knew not. She had been brought up in utter helplessness so far as any useful knowledge was concerned. Not that she was lacking in energy; but even energy must have some path in which to act. Her friend was aware of the change in her fortunes. But she was a whole-souled woman, and made her welcome all the warmer for this knowledge. She begged Clara to stay with her until her suit was decided, and was sure that it must goin her favor. To this Clara strongly objected. She must do something to make a living for herself. But what? There was the rub. When there is a dozen trained persons fighting for every opening there is very little chance left for the untrained. “‘It is confoundedly heartless in Jehn Hun- ter,” said Smith to Herring, as those two worthies were seated in their office debating the case of their new client, ‘‘to turn that young girl adrift without a moment’s notice. Bless me, if I wouldn’t like a chance to cowhide the scoundrel. To bring her up as helpless as a baby, keep her supplied with abundance of cash, and then suddenly tighten the purse strings and Sam Charcoal, the Premium Darky. send her adrift upon the world without a penny. H him, I believe I will cowhide him! 1 cool now, my boy,” answered Her- ring. ‘“Itis all in the way of business. For my ~ I rather admire Hunter’s game.” ‘The deuce you do!” “Yes. There is nothing like tactics. The man has a scheme of robbery. We admit that. Very well. Is he to supply her with cash to fight him, or educate her so as to develop the fight that is born in her? Would any lawyer do that, Smith?’ ** Butt he isn’t a lawyer.” “He is rascally enough to be one, at any rate.” “Td be sorry to be half as am a lawyer,” answered th. ‘*But look here, my good fellow,” returned Herring. ‘‘ Weare honest lawyers, of course; but don’t you see that’ the girl hasn’t a case worth a farthing? We have tried Salisbury and the other North Carolina records, and have not found an ounce of favorable evidence. We are on the losing horse, Smith. We have been fools enough to take a job that has neither money nor reputation in it.” ‘‘But the statement of old Eldon’s properties, which fell so luckily into our hands? The western lands which he values there at a cool fifty thousand?” ‘*Where are they?’ interrupted Herring. ‘We have not found a particle of evidence to substantiate that paper. And they may be any- where from Chicago to Hong Kong, for all that statement tells. tell you what, Smith, it is not worth the paper it is written on us. But—” “But whet?” ‘‘It may be worth something to John Hun- ter,” with a very sly wink. “ Hillo! is that — game? You want to sell out to the enemy?” “T want a fee for the respectable legal firm of Smith & Herring,” was the cool answer. “Tf we can’t get one from the plaintiff, there’s nothing for it but to try the defendant. Senti- ment is a very fine thing, my boy. But cash is better.” “Will he bite, do you think?” asked Smith, uite forgetting his virtuous indignation of a ew minutes before. _ “Bite? Yes. If it is worth nothing to us, it is worth a good dealtohim. He burnt our copy, ou know, for I found a fragment of it in rown’s grate. He can burn the original, teo, if he buys it first.” “Tt will not do to be hasty,” answered Smith, very anxious for a fee, yet not quite liking this rascally plot. ‘“‘ Suppose we feel him first. hai = 5 get on the track of these mysterious 8. ‘Yes, if you had a fool to deal with. But John Hunter isn’t of that kind. — ** Then let us investigate the West further.” ““Why, bless you, Smith, we can’t give a life- time, and beggar ourselves in postage-stamps, on a wild-goose chase, We have tried all the most likely places now, and there’s no record of property in the name of Eldon. It’s narrowed down to question of fee or no fee. Now what do ers say? There’s cash in this document,” und he struck bis hand on the paper which Charcoal had left there. “TI think you’d best go investigate John Hun- ter,” acknowledged Smith, with a sigh, as if it hurt him a little to bid good-by to his honesty. “T knew you'd come to it. Wecan do noth- ing for the girl. But we may do something for Smith & Herring.” And.the two precious villains continued to debate their scheme to treacherously sell out the last hope of the innocent client, who had trusted her fortune to their perilous care, On the other side of the street, in the office of their opponent, Mr. Brown, his client, John Hunter, was seated in an edrnest conversation on the same subjecti The lawyer seemed a little vexed with his client, for some cause, and was speaking to him very sharply: ' “I owe you no thanks, John Hunter, for burning that paper in my office. Respectable lawyers are not expected to countenance dubi- ous ° prctene g of that sort.” _* Hang it all, what wasI to do? Keep it, to rise like a ghost against me?” “Do you not keep matches at home?” asked the lawyer, frigidly. ‘‘I told you what I thought of the decument. But I do not like bonfires of that sort in my office.” “Oh, I see!” cried Hunter, with a low whis- tle. ‘‘ You don’t object to the devil; but you want him to hide his horns in Pe presence.” It was plain, indeed, that Mr. Brown’s hon- t a rascal, if I esty, like that of his neighbors across the street, was only skin deep. The bolder villain, his client, felt a contempt for this weak villainy. “What am I to do, then? Shall I make a bon- fire at home? There are other papers which it might | not be agreeable to have produced in court, Mr. Brown looked up, with a twinkle in his cunning little eyes. ‘*T believe, from what you told me before, that you have lately sold some property in the west,” he remarked, +“ Just so,” answered Hunter, laughing. ‘* Realized very handsomely, too. And what is more I gave a clear title.” ‘* As trustee for the estate of Harry Eldon?” * Don’t ask too many inconvenient questions, my friend,” Hunter laughingly replied. ‘I don’t like bonfires in my office.” ‘But you have some papers connected with these sales?” ‘*Exactly. And the question is, what am I to do with them.” » i see,” cri laugh. ‘‘ You can kick the old boy as much as you please, but don’t kick him till I've got my eyes shut. ° Blessed are they who know noth- ing, for they cannot give evidence. You're a brick, Brown. Can’t you come up and see me some time soon? I would like to treat you toa show of fireworks.” ‘*] don’t like your fireworks,” answered Mr. Brown, with a shake of his little head. “ You had better keep them private. And—and don’t leave a scrap to rise in testimony against you.” Mr. Hunter laughed more heartily than ever. “You're a brick, Brown. A perfect brick. Good-by, and take care not to get wet feet. There’s rheumatism about.” Giving the lawyer a rh slap on the shoul- ders, the jovial client left the office, much to the satisfaction of little Mr. Brown, who did not quite fancy such boisterous villains. He preferred to shut his eyes when any rascalit was afloat, and keep his hands as clean of vil- lainy as any respectable lawyer could. “A sly little hound, that fellow Brown,” cried Mr. Hunter, to himself, on regaining his office at home. “Hang tho Slippery little rogue, I feel sometimes like oe him between my two hands, and squeezing him till the lies pop out of him like so many bubbles. The rascal would sell his mother for a rain) and yet he goes | around prating of honesty till he sickens one. With a loud “‘ Ugh!” of disgust Mr. Hunter began a searching examination of his papers, carefully laying aside certain documents, and ae the others back into the pigeon holes of is f He was preparing to carry out theslyly given advice of bis dawger’ aud to bin all Repnksoon papers. ) **There is tary Rar clearing one’s ship of all doubtful freight before going into action,” he muttered, as he continued this investigation. At this moment there came a sharp knock at the door. With a look of alarm and vexation, Mr. Hunter snatched off his hat, and clapped it down on the heap of papers which he had sorted out. As he did so one of them fell on the floor, unnoticed by him. ‘Who is there?” he called out. ‘*Tt’s on’y me,” answered a well-known voice, and the door partly opened, revealing the sable —, of Charcoal, “Come in, you crow. What are you stand- ing there for? What do you want?” ‘Dar’s a gemman down-staiirs, wants to see ou, sah.” ‘** Did he give his name?” ‘He’s a lawyer, sah. Yere’s his card.” ‘‘ Silas Herring,” read Mr. Hunter. “I never saw the man. at does he want with me? Show him up, Charcoal.—But stop a moment.” He removed his hat and gathering up the small heap of assorted papers, he shoved them into an empty drawer of the desk. While he did so Charcoal stood near him, shuffling his feet uneasily upon the floor. ‘““What’s all that noise about, you dusky vagabond? Have you got the St. Vitus’ dance? Off with you, and show the gentleman up.” Charcoal shuffled his way to the door, with none of his usual alacrity of movement. But he was no sooner outside, and the door closed behind him, than he broke into a silent laugh that made his round face look like the full moon. **Cotched ’um dat time. Bet I cotched ’um dat time!” he chuckled to himself, when out of ear-shot of the office. ‘“Dat’s what comes ob
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Sam Charcoal, the Premium Darky. havin’ a crack in de nigger’s shoe. Dar’s some tin mighty handy, jiss you b’lieve.” e adroit little rogue, in fact, had worked the paper, which John Hunter had carelessly drop on the floor, into an open crack in the sole of his shoe. This was the cause of the shuf- fling movement which had so annoyed his master. He stooped and seized the captured document; laughing more broadly still, as he consigned it to his pocket. ** Dar’s somefin’ in it, I ralely does b’lieve,” he said: to himself. ‘‘’Coz dat lawyer ain’t come ene for nuffin’. He’s gwine to go back on issy Clara, or dis nig don’t know nuffin’ ’bout lawyers.” ving made his capture, Charcoal proceeded on his mission, and ushered the visitor up-stairs, to Mr. Hunter’s office. “Take a seat, glad to see you,” said that in- dividual, in his hearty Southern way. ‘‘ But you do not know me, eh?” ‘‘ Why, I have not that honor.” “T am Mr. Herrin , of the law firm of Smith & Herring, plaintiff’s counsel in a civil suit brought by one Clara Eldon against one John unter.” ‘The deuce you are!” cried Hunter, in t surprise. ‘*And what in the name of the saints, do you want here?” “Only a littlo conference, that may prove for the advantage of both ies.” “Oh, I see!” exclaimed Hunter, with a wink. ‘‘There’s nothing like feeling your way.” “We thought, perhaps, you would let us into some evidence of which we are short.” ‘You did, eh?’ in surprise. ’ For instance, there was a statement of Mr, Eldon’s investments, which you unluckily set fire to in Mr. Brown’s office, and—” ‘“What in the blue blazes do you mean?” roared Hunter, springing in consternation to his feet. ‘‘ Has that idiot Brown—” “T only mean that you made the little error of burning a copy, while the original happens to be yet in existence.” The discovered villain dashed his hand against his forehead. He looked wildly at the lawyer. “Where is your office?” he asked, with a sud- den thought. “At Walnut street.” “Then, by all that’s good, it’s that black vil- lsin Charcoal again! Ill murder that boy, as sure as you're sitting there.” Charcoal, who had his ear to the keyhole at that moment, trembled down to his boots. “A bad move may be set right by a good move,” said the lawyer significantly. ‘* Ha, do you mean—” , ““That every document has its price? Yes.” CHAPTER VIII. THE TABLES TURNED ON CHARCGAL. “T's bound to fine out what’s in dat doky- ment, or bu’st,” said Charcoal to himself, as he rolled in his peculiar walk along thé street. “‘Sure’s ye lib, Missy Clara is gwine to git in trubbel. Ef dar eber was a big rascal it’s dat cod-fishy lawyer as calls hisself Herrin’. But ef I don’t cotch him on a hook yit, it’ll be queer.” . The indignant boy walked slowly on, anxious- ly cago gy the numbers of the houses, as if in search of some special locality. “‘ Dar’s lawyer Jackson somewhar long yere, as I used to brack boots fur,” he muttered, “He tole me den, ef I eber had any legal biz- ness to come to his office.’ I’s got legal bizness now, sure’s you lib; and I’s gwine to hab it put squar’ through.” He was so intent upon his object that he failed to perceive on the other side of the street his two sworn enemies, Teddy and Patsy, whom he had so neatly tricked with the liniment. ‘* Kape ary me boy,” cautioned Teddy. ‘*Tt’s that haythen nayger. Sure and I’m burn- ‘in’ inside yet from that fire and brimstene he made us swaller, Are ye contint to be put on that way?’ ‘“‘Nary time,” answered Patsy. | : : “Nor me nayther. Ill not enjoy life ag’in till I pay him back.” ‘« Let’s kape an eye on him,” returned Patsy. *‘ Look at the imperdant thafe, goin’ intil that big house beyant, as proud as if he owned it!” ‘He’s got to come out ag’in,” said Teddy sig- nificantly. , Charcoal had, in fact, found the number he wanted in a large building which had once been a stylish private residence, but was now divided up into lawyers’ and conveyancers’ offices. In a few minutes he knocked at the door of an office on the second floor. “Come in,” cried the occupant. ‘This gentleman, a large, gray-whiskered, jovial-faced personage, stared on seeing the face of his visitor, with its midnight complexion and its odd look of bashfulness. ‘‘Hillo! what queer sort of importation is this?” and the startled attorney pushed back his chair, and gazed with wide-open eyes upon his visitor. ‘Tt am on’y me, Charcoal, as used ter brack er boots,” explained the boy. -“‘ Ye ain’t fer- got little Charcoal, Marse Jackson?” ‘Oh, it’s you is it, you black scape ? I recollect; you chea me out of a dime your last job. You can give me a black-up this morning in payment,” and he stretched out a pair of well-soiled shoes toward the boy. ‘*T ain’t in dat line now,” remarked Charcoal ° with offended dignity. ‘“I’s been promoted since you seed me, Marse Jackson. I’s gem’- man’s boy now; took to livin’ out.” “You are, eh? By Jove, yes, he's in livery. And a neat idea of livery that . Such a fine contrast of colors.—Well, Charcoal, what's afoot? What can I do for you?” “T's got legal bizness, Marse Jackson.” ‘Legal business!” and the lawyer laughed heartily at the boy’s consequential tone. ‘ ; ou are blossoming early, my boy. Take a seat, Dnardodl: Take off your hat. Let me hear your case,” and the speaker gravely took pen and paper, as if prepared to jot down notes of his new client’s statement. ““Dar’s a ie ob rascality goin’ on,” began Charcoal. ‘“ dar’s a lawyer in it who am de biggest rascal ob de two. But I’s gwine ter countermarch on ’em, I is.” “Come, come, Charcoal, saya? against the ers, if you don’t want me to throw you out of the window.” Charcoal started back at this assumed flerce- ness of tone. ‘‘T knows dey are berry honest folks, Marse Jackson. But dis one’s a brack sheep. Dar neber were a big flock dat didn’t hab one brack sheep. “ All right,” ptehed Mr. Jackson; “we will admit the one black sheep.” “Ps got a dokyment yere as I wants you berry partik’lar to git yer eye on. You tole me Marse Jackson, dat wheneber I had any legal bizness I were to come you.” “Did I?” queried the lawyer. then. Let me see your document.” Charcoal cautiously extracted, from some deep ‘pocket in his clothes a closely. folded paper. As he did so he rolled his eyes carefully around the room, as if in dread of some witness to his mysterious business. But all was serene; there were no other eyes there than the laugh- “ing ones of the lawyer; and Charcoal handed him the paper with a look of deep importance, “‘Dar’s de dockyment,” be ejaculated. ‘* Dar’s rascality somewhar in dat paper, an’ I wants you to find it out.” . Mr Jackson unfolded the paper, and cast his eyes quickly over it, while arcoal watched him with anxious interest, his eyes starting and his thick lips working, while a Poy ne broke out on his black skin. He certainly deemied the present moment one of vast impor- tatice. “There is nothing in this,” said the lawyer. “Tt is only a eT eos bill for the sale of some property in Peoria, Illinois. Where did you get it? And what does it mean?” “Dat dar dokyment means rascality,” re- marked Charcoal, with mysterious earnestness. “Who sold that property, Marse Jackson?” ‘‘ Why, let me see, John Hunter, trustee.” rs aos ain’t ole Marse Eldon’s name dere?” 0. ' Charcoal shook his head doubtfully. | “Tt oughter be dere. Dar’s rascality, suah. Jiss you freeze onto dat dokyment, ‘cause it am berry ’portant. I’s gwine to look furder.” Charcoal took his hat and prepared to de- art. ** Hold up there, you confoundedly mysteri- ous darky!” cried the lawyer. ‘‘ Suppose you let me a little deeper into this secret. Who’s my client? What's the case? What does it all mean, anyhow? I don’t fancy buying a pig in a bag.” At this energetic appeal Charcoal returned, and gave the lawyer an inkling of what he was driving at. To tell the truth, he had a very vague idea of the matter himself, but he had overheard some important parts of the conver- sation between his master apd the treacherous lawyer, and he was very sure that there was *‘rascality somewhar.” : “Dey is plottin’ to rob Missy Clara,” he con- cluded. ‘An I’s gwine to stop ’em, ef a little nig ob my size kin do’t. Ill fotch her yere, “Very well Marse Jackson, cause I wants you to sev her. 9 ee ain’t sich a lubly little lady dis side ob rgy. It was with a feeling of intense satisfaction that Charcoal found himself in the street again. He was sure he had done’some very important work for Miss Clara, though he had a very vague idea of what that work amounted to. But he had overheard enough to know that the ‘‘dokyment ” was important. He failed to notice that he was followed, at no great distance, by his arch enemies, Teddy and Patsy, eagerly looking out for some oppor- tunity of revenge upon him. - In fact Charcoal was not just then in the mood for observation. He had been through a great mental excitement, and a drowsy sensa- tion now followed it: He had not gone Mngt far before he felt sleep overcoming him, and his pace lagged, as he drowsily remarked: ‘“‘Dunno what makes me so tired. Guess I’ll squat down somewhar an’ take a rest. It am a lazy sort ob day, I’s suah ob dat.” A convenient corner offered itself near the en- trance of a narrow court, and Charcoal lazily curled himself up on the pavement, with very little heed to the effect upon his livery. — It was not two minutes before he was sound asleep, and dreaming of how neatly he’ was going to trick ‘‘ old e Hunter.” And it was not two minutes more before Teddy and Patsy made their appearance. Tho sleeping boy was at their mercy. They looked at one another with knowir winks, while their faces were convulsed wi suppressed laughter. ‘Sure, the nayger’s asleep,” whispered we ‘* Faith an’ he is, An’ there’s the n’atest chance for fun yit,” returned Patsy. “ Let’s initiate the dirty haythen,” remarked Teddy, bis mischievous eyes ing. “ Ain’t I wid ye?” answ Patsy, clap ing his knee in glee. ** What's it to be, me boy? wish we had a bottle of hoss med’cine.” . The young vagabonds formed themselves into a committee of two, to devise ways and means to repay their sleeping foe for the trick which he bad plsyed upon them. For the next fifteen or twenty minutes they were busy as bees about the slumbering boy, moving very cautiously so as not to awaken him, But Charcoal was not one of your who waken at a torch. A loud clap of thun- der would have been no more to him than the noise of a fly’s wing when he set himself to sleep in earnest. So his round, fat, dusky face re- mained in midnight unconsciousness that he was being made the victim of a trick, and he did not even stir when moved into another posi- tion. But at the end of that time there was a sud- den ending of his dreams, is mischievous foes had blown an ounce of Scotch snuff up his wide nostrils, and a sudden and irresistible de- sire to sneeze came upon him, Sneeze after sneeze, like successsive thunder-claps, broke on the air, aaa 4 the passers by, and etfectually rousing Charcoal eut of his snooze. But his awakening was hastened by another cause. For suddenly behind him came the sharp, ripping sound of fire-crackers, rapidly increasing, as a whole pack of these noisy in- ventions took fire, me Not knowing what it was, and eh fe frightened, Charcoal sprung oe Ri his feet, while the crackers, attached to his coat-tail, fizzed, sputtered, and cracked worse than ever, in a regular fanfaronade of uproar. “‘Oh, de laws! Ob, de bressed goodness!” Tree the terror-stricken boy. ‘‘ Oh, de marcy! hat’s dat?” He started to run, but he had not taken two steps before he was brought up all of’ a sudden. Both feet and hands were tied by short cords to a fastening in the wall behind him, just leaving him play for a few steps. But Charcoal was quite oblivious of the cause of the difficulty, and continued his vigorous ef- forts to rum, while the rattling noise kept up behind him. The spectators, whom this sudden uproar had athered, were beside themselves with laughter. t was very funny, indeed, to see the little darky, with his face almost blanched white with terror, his thick lips protruding, his eyes starting from his head, and snorts and yells of fear issuing from his mouth, while he kept up the most ridiculous dance imaginable. He was trying to run, and perhaps fancied he was run- ning, but every movement of hand and foot was, jerked back by the rope that held it, so that his run was converted into a sort of horn- pipe that would have made an anchorite laugh.
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10 ’ Sam Charcoal, the Premium Darky. Such a comical picture of terror has not often been seen, and it was added to by the fact that Charcoal’s attire was very oddly tricked out; a circle of. feathers in his hat, and streamers of colored rags depending from every part of his clothing. The authors of this mischief rolled on the pavement in laughter, while the crackers con- tinued to explode and Charcoal to dance, snort and ge , “Oh de mighty marcy! It’s de debil! It’s de debil suah, dat’s arter de little nig! Oh, de ele saints! Cotch ’um! Cotch ’um, some- ! By this time the crackers had sputtered their last, but the boy’s terror continued, and on a benevolent Uystandet stepping forward and cutting the cords, he started off in a wild flight, still yelling as if he thought that old Satan was after him indeed. The laughter of the lookers-on continued, while the two authors of the mischief, together with all the other boys present, started off in full pursuit of the flying fugitive, bent to get some more fun yet out of him. But Charcoal was winged by fright; his pur- suers were checked by laughter; the conse- uence was that they were soon distanced in @ chase, Charcoal leaving them quite out of ight as he darted around corner after corner. ut he had run a full mile ere he came toa ause through sheer exhaustion,and not sure yet ew his Satanic Majesty was close upon his eels, CHAPTER IX. CHARCOAL MAKES A CALL, Ciara Expon’s friend lived in a very pretty mansion on West Spruce street, Philadelphia. It was neatly and tastefully furnished, and the sitting-room, which the family usually oecu- pied, was a charming apartment. : Clara and her friend, Miss Jennie Mason, with two or three other lady friends, were as- sembled in this room, at about the same time that Charcoal was running away from his tor- mentors, as told in the last chapter. “Tt was sucha a ses home,” said Clara, in answer to a question from one of the visitors. ‘We lived near Salisbury, but our house was so delightfully situated. and was so charming in every respect, that it is no wonder my ehild- hood was a v leasant one.” _ “Was your father in business in ioc ee ed EM “Yes, But he also had other important in- terests. There was a plantation attached to our house. And he was interested in the turpentine business in the North Carolina woods, I only remember him as being full of business, for he died while I was quite young.” _ “ And your pleasant home has passed away from theifamily?” _ “ Yes,” answered Clara briefly, as if not wish- ing to pursue the subject. . “The truth is,” remarked Jennie, “that her father’s will left all his Property in trust with a supposed friend, named Jo unter, who has turned out to be a great rascal, and is trying to cheat poor Clara out of her whole estate.” ‘Now do not say that,” answered Clara quickly. ‘‘ We only suspect that, We are not sure of it.” ‘*T would be, then,” said Jennie, with much energy. ‘I would make him prove his case thoroughly.” ; * Sc "replied Clara. ‘‘ But I fear that his trickery has been too deep. We can find no ce agains 5 “That is too bad,” rejoined the young lady visitor. ‘‘To be rob of such a delightful home, and of all your wealth by the devices of a rascal. Can you think of nothing in your —, life that will serve to show the character of this man?” ‘Oh, no! I hardly knew him then. I was scarcely ten years old when my dear father died and left me alone in the world. There was nobody on the plantation except my aunt, who came to live with me, and the negroes.” ‘““ Were there many of them?” “Yes, quite a number. Some of them I was much attached to, for they were very kind old souls, And there was one comical little fellow who was almost my only playmate. He was several years younger than me, and served me, I aeaee in place of a doll.” “Well, I hardly think I should have lik that. A livirig black doll!” ¢ F “He was certainly black enough. A pure, unadulterated, midnight complexion. Poor lit- tle Sambo, I have often wondered whatever became of him. ; ‘*T suppose he is a full-grown and fri¢htfully ugly negro now,” laughed Jennie. “No, no, I hardly can bring myself to think that. He is not more than fifteen years old. I would | give much to see poor little Sambo ain ‘“Yere he am, Missy Clara! Yere he am! Dis is de identercal nig!” The eyes of the young ladies turned quick] to the door, and they sprung to their feet wit cries of alarm at sight of the object which they saw there. ; In fact, it, was a most extraordinary vision, and quite enough to frighten the average young lady half out of her wits. For there stood Char- coal—or Sambo, to give him his original name— but it was Chatcont in a very odd disguise. The additions to his costume which Teddy and Patsy had made were still there. Above the top of his low-crowned hat waved a circle of lon feathers, as though he were an Indian chief. Attached to his clothes were long streamers of colored rags, dirty enough to have been fished out of an ash barrel. To his coat tail still re the remnant of the pack of fire-crackers, An the terror through which he had lately passed still left its mark upon his face, in bulging lips and starting eyes. Altogether he was an astonishing spectacle to burst suddenly upon a party of nervous young ladies, and it is no wonder that they sprung to their feet with cries of dismay. ‘*Oh, what is it? Oh, take the thing away!” came in a startling chorus. “‘ Who is he?” asked Jennie, who had preserved her senses better. ‘Do you know this miracu- lous scarecrow, Clara?” , ‘*T?” exclaimed Clara. “I know him? Why, he must be an escaped lunatic.” “Why, Missy Clara, suah ae ain’t fergot?”’ cried the boy in a deeply hurttone, ‘‘ Why, I’s dat Sambo. I's little Charcoal, as de white folks calls me now. I’s de little nig as you used toplay wid when I were a little pickaninny on de plantation.” lara continued to gaze at him, recollection slowly returning to her. The other young ladies, who had got over their fright, burst into a chorus of laughter at his ludicrous appearance. ‘* Mercy on Clara; you don’t mean to say that this funny-looking creature was your old playmate?” A flash came into Clara’s eyes. She made no = ly to this remark, but continued to observe Are you not the boy that I rescued from some young vagabonds a few weeks ago?” ‘T's dat dar boy,” answered Charcoal, solemn- x “I knowed you den, Missy Clara; but you dn’t know me, so I kept mum,” ‘Well, I declare!” she exclaimed, taking him, by the arm, and looking close into his face. ‘I do believe it is Samho, truly, But what do you mean by this masquerade? Why have you be- dizened yourself with feathers and colored rags? Is that your idea of a costume in which to visit your old mistress?” Charcoal looked down upon himself and gave pe Kher eae ; ae ee Hise goodness gracious, Missy Clara, I neber knowed all deni Vines was on me! An’ de m knows how dey eber come dar!” ex- claimed Charcoal, as he tugged vigorously away at his strange ornaments. ‘‘ Ye neber see’d sich a conflammation as I’s been frew; but I was suah it were all a dream.” As he spoke he continued to tear off the streaming that gaye him so odd an ap- pearance, and with which his tormeutors had plentifully ornamented him, “‘T sot down on de pavement, and I s’pose I must ’a’ got won rs oS continued the boy. ‘I don’t s’pect nobody neber had sich a dream. Dar was fire all around me; and cannon balls; and bomb-shells. And it were t’underin’ a light’nin’ like mad. An’ de more I tried to run away from it de more I couldn’t. I ralely do Vliebe de Ole Nick were in it, for you neber did hear de like.” : By the time he had got through with his ex- planation Charcoal had divested himself of most of his ornaments, and began to look like himself again, “And is that part of your dream?” asked Jennie, laughingly. “I *fess dat I dunno whar dey come from,” ac- knowledged Charcoal, ‘‘Maybe I war—what dey call ’um?—a somnambuler, or sumfin’ ob dat sort. Anyhow, when I waked up, yere I was, right out in de street fore dis house. §o’s I wanted to see Missy Clara I took de ’spons’- bility ob comin’ in.” : “T verily believe it is Sambo,” said ‘Clara, who had continued to curiously observe him. ‘** And I am very glad to see him again. But I never thought there could be such a change from the tatabiing i black baby I used to play with. But where have you been all these y' Sambo? And where do: i ar’s I been, an’ whar repeated Charcoal, his face beaming - ee at being recogniaed by his old playmate. ‘*Suah I’s been libin’ most ob de time since wid Marse Hunter; and I’s libin’ dar yet.” Clara started violently on receiving this in- formation. But Jennie sprung forward with a quick thought kindling her face. “You live with . Hunter? With Miss Clara’s guardian ? ‘*Dat’s de identercal trufe,” repeated Char- coal solemnly. ‘‘Then you may know all about him. He is trying to rob your old friend of her fortune. Can you not help her? Can you not fiud out something?” “Dat’s what I’m yere fur to-day,” answered Charcoal importantly. ‘“I’s found out lots. Jiss lots, now I tells ye. Marse Hunter’s a big rascal, An’ dat ne po! lawyer as calls his- self Herrin’, he’s anoder big rascal.” “Herring!” exclaimed Clara, quickly, ‘‘of Smith & Herring?’ “‘Dat’s ’um, Missy Clara, Jiss you leab de nig tosmellarat. He’s sellin’ you out to Marse Hunter. He’s foun’ a paper which Marse Hun- ter’s gwine to gib him five hundred dollars fur, squar’ on de nail.” ‘Good heavens!” cried the r gir] wring- ing her hands in dismay. ‘‘ Kven awyers Ihave engaged have turned against me, then! What shall I do? I must charge them with this treachery.” ou live now?” oes I lib now?’ with ‘‘Not too fast,” broke in Jennie, ‘‘The boy has something yet to say.” “Don’t you neber do it, Missy Clara,” ex- claimed Charcoal earnestly. ‘Jiss luf ’em go on. Neber let on as you know. Charcoal’s gwine to work for you, an’ I’s got sumfin’ now ob portance; ob Breas ’portance suah,” “4 at isit?” ask ara, anxiously. ‘““Marse Hunter’s a big rascal, dat’s what,” returned Charcoal, his black face beaming with delight and importance. ‘‘He gin mea paper to tote to Mr, Brown, but I toted it to Smith & Herrin’, coz I knowed dey was your lawyers. Well, dat rascal Herrin’, what does dat feller do but tote de paper back an’ sell it to ole Marse Hunter? De little darky heered ’um, Missy Clara. He heered’um right frew. It war sum- fin’ bout property 'way out West, dat nobody knowed ’bout ’cept Marse Hunter. But maybe de little nig don’t know? Maybe Charcoal don’t know?” The boy was so full of delight at his diseover- ies that he was quite unable to go on, but burst into a regular plantation hoedown on the floor, to the renewed alarm ef the young lady visitors, who had not quite got over their first fright at Charcoal’s appearance. ‘‘Jiss you come wid me, Missy Clara,” cried Charcoal, as he continued his excited capers. “T's got a lawyer ’gaged. Fust chop, too. None ob yer codfish rascals like dat Herrin’. You come wid me. I’s took him a berry ’por- tant dokyment; bery ‘portant indeed! e's gwine to work fur you, ’coz he tole me he’d do all my legal bizness; and dis am de very fust bizness I eber took him. Come straight away, Missy Clara, ’coz de time’s goin’.” After some further debate Clara consented to accompany Charcoal, though she was not quite sure yet for what purpose, for the a expla- nations were not very satisfactory. Butif he really lived with John Hunter, and had found something in her favor, it would not do to let the chance go unimproved. It was with a feeling of great pride that Charcoal escorted his former mistress through the streets, and finally introduced her into the office of Samuel Jackson, Attorney at Law. This gentleman was seated at his desk, and looked up with surprise on seeing his late vis- itor so quickly returned, and with much in- terest as he caught sight of the pretty face of the young lady. : He hastened to provide her with a seat, and politely asked the purpose of her visit. “The boy here can best explain it,” she quiet- ly answered. ‘‘I have come here to please him, though I hardly know for what purpose. He ' said something about an important paper ‘¢Yes,” answered Mr. Jackson, “he left me a aper. It may be of value, though I do not un- ae pai in what way. It is only a convey-~ ancer’s bill, for the sale of some property in Peoria, Illinois, sold by John Hunter, trustee.” “Trustee for whom?’ she quickly asked. ‘‘The paper does not say.” “Trustee for Missy Clara Eldon!” cried Char- coal, his face’ working with excitement.
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Sam Charcoal, the Premium Darky. ** Didn’t I tell ye it was’portant, berry ’portant? Dat ole rascal itiives Hunter is a ph to rob you, Missy Glara. But he’s got to keep shy ob de little nig.” Mr, Jackson opened his eyes at this exclama- tion from the boy, Clara, too, began to see the possibility of some importance in Charcoal’s discovery, though the boy himself had nothing more than a vague idea that the paper was ‘‘ berry ’portant.” : The attorney asked a number of questions, in order to gain some knowledge of the character of the case of bis fair client. He finally re- quested her to give him a statement of the whole business, and explain the grounds on which she wished to bring suit against Jobn Hunter. _ This she did, briefly but clearly, os him in possession of the main details of the case, “It looks bad,” he said, shaking his head doubtfully.. ‘‘I fancy this man is trying to victimize you as you suspect. Have you ap- plied to no counsel before?’ “Yes, sir. To the legal firm of Smith & Herring.” Mr. Jackson whistled. ‘‘ Excuse me,” he said. ‘“‘ But they are not of the best odor. Smith, I think, is honestly in- clined; but I would not advise you to trust eri “ Dat one am a big rascal!” exclaimed Char- coal, unable to keep silent any longer. “I cotched ’um. De little nig am sleepy sometimes, but he cotched *um.” At Mr. Jackson’s questioning, Charcoal ex- plained what he meant, and the conference ended by the attorney consenting to act as rivate counsel for her, and to look up the evi- ence in her case; while he advised her not to let, Smith & Herring perceive that she sus- pected them. CHAPTER X. CHARCOAL HELPS DINAH. ‘“*WHAR’s you been all dis time? Dat’s what I wants to know,” asked the cook of Mr. Hun- ter’s establishment. ‘‘ You’s got no bizness to be off caterwaulin’ ’bout de city, ’thout nobody knowin’ whar.” : Charcoal, to whom this question was ad- dressed, sat demurely shelling peas, with a broad tin basin beside him, a plate in his lap, and a basket on the other side in which to throw the empty pods. Dinah, the cook, was a very or- derly person, and did not believe in making any unnecessary litter. ‘*f ain’t been nowhar,” answered Charcoal, indignantly. ‘‘ De little nig’s got to hab some exumcise, Ain’t gwine to stay in de house all de time.” ‘It won’t hurt you,” growled Dinah. ‘‘ Are- n’tI in de house all de time? An’I reckon I ain’t none de warse for ’t. Yer a deal too grumtious, boy, and it’d sarve you right to gib youa slatherin’ ’bout de ears, Yere’s Mr. Hun- ter raisin’ de roof off "bout you. An’ it’s all Dinah. Dinah oughtn’t to let ye gone out. Laws! I'd as lieve try to hold a weasel.” “Wish ye’d luf me ‘lone,” grumbled Char- coal. ‘How's I eber gwine to git dese peas done if you keeps a-growlin’ like dat? Guess Marse Hunter ’d Raat tie me to his coat-tail, an’ den he'd allers hab me. Don’t git no good ob my life, nohow, ’bout yere. It’s allers, ‘ You lazy nigger,’ and ‘you brack debil Charcoal,’ an’ de like. Wonder if eberybody t’inks little nigs ain’t got no feelin’s, like grewn folks?” harcoal shelled the ps faster than ever, as he grew indignant at his bad treatment. “Yer a lazy Fours rascal. You know you are,” persisted Dinah, as she took up a stirring stick te test her cooking. “It’s been a good six hours since a soul ’s see’d ye ’bout de house. You's been wid them low-down Irish boys, as you ought to be ’shamed of _yerself to ’sociate wid. pose I don’t know? Yer a di ce to de fam’ly as brung ye up, to keep sich com- pny.” ; **Dat’s not so, Mom Dinah,” replied Char- coal. ‘I don’t hab nuffin’ todo wid’em. But I -ain’t a bit’shamedob’em. I Sig ai i grt as as a nigger any day, if he haves his- st a gger any day, This was a little too much for Dinah’s tem- per. Hadn’t the Irish come over here and in- vaded the kitchens of the Americans, and push- ed out the black help head and shoulders? The idea of anybody who had been under her train- ihg going over to the enemy in that way! She stepped impulsively forward with the stirring stick which she yet held, and brought it down Pm on Charcoal’s shoulders, crying spite- Take dat, you little rapscallion vagabond, as ’d go back on yer own color dat way!” »* 11 Her blow was more effective than she in- tended, Charcoal had been half doubled up, with his feet on the chair-round, intent over his peas. He madea very natural start forward at this unlooked-for reminder, and his feet being en- tangled, he quite overbalanced himself. A quick effort with both hands to save himself over- turned the pan of pods and the basket of shells, and the next instant he toppled over face-fore- most on the floor, while a loud crash and the rolling of minute green balls in all directions, told the fate of his plateful of shelled peas. Dina’s blew had certainly produced an astonish- ing effect. ‘De debil take de pickaninny!” cried Dinah, holding up her hands in dismay. ‘‘ Dar goes one ob de bestest chiny plates, as I tole him neber to touch. An’ sick a redic’lous scattera- tion ob peas! Ef I war a saint—which I isn’t —I b’lieve it’d make me swear.” She fell on Charcoal, who was struggling in a bewildered fashion to his feet, and repeated the dose with interest. The boy finally broke away and ran to the kitchen door. ‘* Wish you’d luf me ’lone!” he cried angrily. ‘Spose you t’ink de nig’s made ob cast iron. Weren’t my fault ef de peas was spilt. You’d ’a’ broke Charcval’s nose, suah, ef it stuck out like white folks’; Why, you most. made me jump outen my boots.” He felt his nose gingerly to see if it was: still there. But fortunately for him it was too flat to hit the ground first, and the shock of his fall had come upon his thick skull bone, that Whs strong enough to stand a much harder blow. “It’s ebery bit yer own fault, a-talkin’ so ridick’lous!” cried Dinah. ‘‘ You neber had no sense nohow. Come yere now, and pick u dese peas. §S'’pose I’s got nothin’ to do but w arter your heels.” ‘* You'll luf me "lone if I does?’ queried Char- coal doubtfully. ‘*Sartin I will, If I tetched ye ag’in, ye’d be runnin’ yer woolly head in de chiny closet, or butting a hole through de flour barrel. ‘Yer de most onsartin nigger Teber see’d, Charcoal.” The boy Jaughed till he showed all the teeth in his head, his double row of white ivories md out in startling contrast to his black n “Ye oughtn’t to neber hit de nigger bebind his back,” he remarked, as he began picking up the spilled peas. ‘‘ He’s ticklish dar, I tells you dat, °’Tain’t fair, anyway, when a feller’s got hisself tangled up, and a plate ob peas in hi co © was quickly gathering the peas into a pan as he spoke, the dish being broken into a fmul- titude of fragments. These he gathered up, with a doleful expression, when Dinah was looking at him, but a broad grin when her face was turned away. ‘* Dar’s more ob ’em to be shelled,” remarked Charcoal, on his return after disposing of the fragments. ‘‘ Is I to finish ’em?” "Don’t ye tech ’em!” cried Dinah prey *Dar’s no trustin’ sich a boy. You'll a- bu’stin’ somethin’ else. I'd as lieve trust an egg in yer coat pocket as gib you anoder plate. Git out, now, I'll finish ’em myself.” Charcoal was very well satisfied with the ar- rangement, and was making his way with a grin to the kitchen floor, when he was checked y Dinah’s commanding voice: ‘Come yere,” she demanded. ‘ Dere’s some- thin’ ye can do. Mr. Hunter’s been burnin’ somethin’ in de stove in his room. De saints knows what fur. Guess he don’t want a fire to warm his shins dis time o’ year. Burnin’ some ole papers, I s’pose. Anyhow, I can’t stan’ to hab de stoves choked up wid ashes. Jiss you take de ash-pan an’ brush, and go up an’ clean out de stove. An’ don’t you make no dust, boy, ’cause if you does I'll wallop you, sure. Away wid you now, ‘fore Mr. Hunter gits back, ’cause he don’t like to hab nobody meddlin’ ’round his room when he’s at home.’ - Charcoal hastened to obey, and made his way, with pan and brush, toward Mr. Hunter’s office, on the second fleor of the house. The boy could not help thinking that there was some- thing suspicious about this fire, after the dis- coveries he had already made. Ee muttered to himself as he slowly ascended the stairs. ““Didn’t I see Marse Hunter, wid my own eyes, a-sortin’ out papers; an’ cotched one ob ’em, too, wid de toe ob my shoe? What’s dat fur, ’'d like to know? He’s been a-burnin’ de dock’ments ’bout Missy Clara’s property. De big rascal! I wish I’d stole dem all, ’stead ob one. ee law pte og made oa squeal, if he’d got all dat bunch‘ oopee! ye’ best b’lieve ity wai By this time Charcoal had reached the room < and was ready to Ae mo the contents of the stove. He hoped to find some unburnt paper there, but his disappointed eyes saw only white ashes, He thrust in his arm and raked the ashes carefully from the top of the heap, To bis sur- prise and delight a show of brownish white paper was yisible below. Still raking off the ashes he revealed a little bunch of half-burned papers whose edges were charred and scorched, ut whose central portions seemed to have escaped the fire. ' Evidently the papers had been crammedrinto the stove, and set fire to from above, the stove door being then shut and they left to burn. But a fire burning downw is very apt to §° out. The ashes from above choke the fire below; and in the — case this par- ticular clump of papers bad been so tightly massed toget er that the flames had failed to consume them. The fact that they had not burnt did not appear from above, where only white ashes were visible. : But Charcoal did not trouble himself with all these reasonings. Here was a prize which might be valuable, and he did not care much how his careless master had come to leave it there, so long as he had done so. ‘ ‘T's ralely a notion dar’s luck for de nig after all,” cried the boy, so excited that he broke into a breakdown, making his heavy shoes rattle on the uncarpeted floor. ‘“T’ou’t Marse Hunter was a sharp ’un, but he shet him eyes dat time, suah,” ‘“What you doin’ up dere, ehf’ came in the sharp voice of Dinah from below. ‘Want me to tote de stick up dere ag’int Dar’s some mis~ chief afloat. I knows it.’ “Dar’s nuffin’,” cried Charcoal. “I on’y drapped my shoes on de floor. It’s all ’cause Marse Hunter won’t hab no carpet in do office. T’s a-cleanin’ out de stove.” ‘‘Hurry up, den. Don’t be all day ’bout it,” and the angry lady of the kitchen strode back to her domain, rs AP pt wy say dat my feet was in dem shoes,” chuckled the boy as he re to his task. ‘Guess I'd best git dis job done, 'cause Marse Hunter mought drap in yere next.” His first nevement was to extract the bunch of scorched papers from the stove and rub off their burnt edges into the ash pan. Whatto do ~ with them was the next question. After a. minute’s reflection he left the room and ran nimbly up-stairs to his own apartment in the sky-parlor, where he carefully con his rize : The boy was whistling a lively melody when he returned. He felt that he had aes | a ten- strike upon his villainous master. He began the task of cleaning out the remaining ashes from the stove, stiN whistling glibly. He was so intent, indeed, that he failed to hear a step behind him, and was only aware of the presence of company when the toe of a boot ave him a Moper reminder from behind, and e voice of master angrily exclaimed: ‘What are you doing here,” you imp of the o boy! Who told you to meddle about. that stove A quick sense of dread shot through Charcoal. But it was followed by confidence when he re- membered that his prize was safely hidden. ‘‘I’s on’y a-cleanin’ out de stove,” he replied, with great innocence, ‘And who, in the blue blazes, asked you to bother yourself with the stove” There was a ring of suspicion in the voice of the speaker. “You're not generally so confoundedly eager’ for work.” ‘ ‘“‘Tt were Mom Dinah, in de kitchen,” returned Charcoal indignantly. ‘‘She said dar were asbes in your stove, and she neber could b’ar ashes. An’ she tole me to fotch de ash-pan an’ brush, and come right ap yere, an’ clean it out. ’Tain’t no fun to git kicked fer ’beyin’ orders, Marse Hunter. I weren’t wantin’ to do it.” ‘Pll wager high. on that,” cried his master, with an oath. ‘‘ Anyhow, you get kicked often enough for not obeying orders, so this will help to strike a balance. ome, get out of this with your ashes now.” Charcoal obeyed, only too glad to escape without exciting. further suspicion. At a rather later period of that same day there was another scene, in another part of the city, which we may briefly describe, as it is necessary to keep up the thread of our story. This was in the office of Samuel Jackson, At- torney at Law. This portly personage was leaning easily back in his office-chair, convers- ing with Miss Eldon, who had just ealled upon m. “J saw you in the Orphans’ Court to-day,” ‘ hi
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“my cue to appear interes AZ she said. ‘‘ But I was afraid you did not take any interest in what was going on; you seemed so occupied with other matters.” “ Yes,” was the laughing reply. “It was not in your affairs. But you need not fear but that I took it all in. Have you called on Smith & Herring since?” “ T have just come from their office.” “‘Ah! And what have they to say?” “‘That everything is going on very well. They did not intend to show their case y they say. They wanted to find the strength of the other side. But they are doing their best to hunt up evidence in my favor.” “Which explanation you found very satis- factory?” ‘* Not entirely,” answered Clara. ‘‘ It seemed to me as if they were making no effort. What did you think of it, Mr. Jackson?’ “T have a fancy they intend to sell you out,” was his cool reply. ‘‘Huater’s statement of his account was a very neatly got up document, It impressed the judge, 1 could see that. And yout counsel simply did nothing, except to help t all they could.’ “T was afraid so, myself,” she anxiously an- vd range pow menage o not Lag the ways of lawyers, t certain elt ver much dissatisfied.” j x : “Did you tell them so?” quickly. “No. I did not think it advisable.” “That was right. To never show your hand until you are forced to, is good legal logic.” “But have you done anything yet, Mr. Jack- son?’ she earnestly inquired. ‘1 was in hopes that you might have found some trace, some clew, that would be of importance.” ‘‘ Nothing,” he majoined, shaking his head. ‘‘T have a co mdent at work in Salisbury, but he has made no favorable pence? as yet.” - ~ about the paper which the boy brought ou “There has not been time to do anything about that. It is only a few days, you wil remember. I have written to Peoria, but it is too soon for a reply. You must have more time, Miss Eldon. Your lawyers must_dela the case, I wish you to insist on that. But do not let them know that I advised it.” — ‘* Certainly not,” answered Clara. “‘We must be wise as serpents and innocent as doves, you know,” he continued. At me ge their conference was suddenly interrupted. The door was thrown widely open, and the face of Charcoal made its appear- ance, beaming with importance and self-satisfac- tion. But his usually natty appearance was remarkably ehanged: His livery was gone, and he wore a suit of ragged clothes which looked asif they had been picked out of some coal hole. On his shoulder he carried a bundle at the end of a stick, and he might readily have for a trampor a footpad of the first uality, but for the shining eagerness of his “Ys got’um! I’s got ’um!” he cried joyfully. “« Jiss you b’lieve it, Marse Jackson an Missy Clara. I’s got ’um! Ole rascal Hunter’s sold hisself dis time. De little nig’s too wide awake for him!” CHAPTER XI. OHARCOAL GETS HIS WALKING PAPERS. We last saw our young friend Charcoal just aeenny 4 his way out of Mr. Hunter's room, with a dust-brush and a of ashes, An ordinary person would ' have said that those ashes were in a way to be ‘deposited in the ash barrel. But no one who knew Oharcoal would have been sure of that. He had too great a genius for mischief for anyhody to count upon his movements, ’ “Hey, Charcoal!” called Mr. Hunter from his room. ‘Just tell Dinah to hurry up -with that junch. I haven’t had a bite of dinner, and am as nupRry as a wolf, “ Course I. will, sah,” answered the boy. who had just reached the head of the stairs. “I'll send her up ” off.” =. De dinner’s all ready. I’s got it yere,’’ cried Dinah, from the foot of the stairs. She had just left the kitchen, and bore a waiter containing a plate of cold roast chicken, some bis- cuits and butter, and other viands. Her shining black face was turned up to the boy as she made this announcement. “Stir w not heard the cook. ‘Stir your stumps, or by Jupiter, if the lunch don’t come soon, 1 may com- mence b eating you, by way of a snack.” ‘““ The laws bress us!’’ ejaculated the boy, in a tone of alarm. He had his head at that moment turned toward ‘his master’s office, and quite forgot that he stood on the very brink of the stairs, as he took a hast step forward. A natural result followed. Charcoal’s foot came down, but there was nothing for it to come down on, so followed his foot. Charcoal Over he toppled head-foremost onto the stairs, t then,” exclaimed Mr. Hunter, who had. Sam Charcoal, the Premium Darky. the ash-pan and brush flying out of his hands and py in age down the steep flight of steps. The fates of ill-luck seemed ruling that day, for that fi pan managed to deposit its contents over every portion of the lunch which Dinah was so care fully ca ng. The brush, on the other hand, took a higher t, and struck the cook on her woolly. poll, causing her to start hastily back, with an ex- clamation of dismay. Her feet trip and she fell on the broad of her back, the lunch waiter tumblin with a ringing sound, and spreading its ash-sprinkl contents promiscuously over the floor. 8ut this was not the complete result of Charcoal’s unlucky misstep. He followed the pan and brush, Down the stairs he came, with a thump amd a groan at every step, making wild efforts with hands and feet to recover himself, but all in vain. Mr. Hunter.ran quickly from his room on hearing the unusual uproar, and the cries of Dinah and the boy. He arrived just in time tosee Charcoal finish his wild career at the bottom of the stairs. One last plunge, and one final groan, and he struck head foremost amid the scattered remains of the lunch, the ig 8 his head striking in the pot of butter, while a hot boiled potato was flattened out over his ‘broad countenance. : ‘““What in the fiend’s name is going on here?” yelled Mr. Hunter inan angry tone. ‘Shoot me if this isn’t enough to provoke an angel! What are you up to, you donkey-eared son of a raven?” “Oh, de holy marcy!’ screamed Dinah, trying to scramble to her feet. ‘Did eber anybody see de like? Dar’s de lunch clean = a an’ all covered wid ashes. An’ maybe de pickaninny killed hisself, for all anybody knows!” ‘‘He kill himself!” exclaimed the irate master. ““There’s no such good luck. But hang me if I don’t feel like finishing the job! Here’s my dinner gone to the dogs, and 1 hungry enough to eat slate pencils. I could murder that hound with a clear conscience. Get up, you villain, and don’t lie shamming there, or s | Pn drop the water pitcher on your thick skull.” At this fierce threat Charcoal gathered himself to- gether and crawled to his feet, turning his face up- ward toward the angry gentleman, who continued | to heap interjections upon his devoted head. Yet, furious as he was, he could not help giving a grim laugh as he caught sight of the boy’s face. For the remnants of a flattened out potato spread in a broad zone across his countenance, while a yellow om Sean wae slowly meletog ite ae gd wool and trickling in greasy drops down along cheeks and forehead. ’ He presented a most ludicrous and woe-begone as- pect, at which Dinah, as well as her master, could not help laughing, angry as they both were. “Twasn’t my fault,’ ae Charcoal. ‘‘My foot slipped, an’ I couldn’t cotch myself. You skeered me, Marse Hunter, dat’s de fack. I don't b’liebe dar eber Was a nigger yit dat tumbled down- stairs eae ae lp As he spoke he was diligently digging the potato nae eyes and scooping the melting butter from is % “I scared you, eh? You lie, you rascally lump of lamp-black! You flung the dishes down-stairs on purpose, to spoil oy. dinner, and tumbled down your- self to hide your trick. Iknow you, blast your hide! There’s not a day but you’re up to some mischief, and hang me if I put up withitany longer. Youcan et out of this establishment as quick as your two egs will carry you, for I’ve enough of you. Only I’m a soft-hearted fool, I’d have kicked you out of doors a year ago.”’ “Yer ain’t gwine te discharge me, Marse Hunter?” queried the boy, opening his eyes to their full width. ‘“ Well, it looks like that, doesn’t it?” * Arter all I’s done for ye?” “Done for me, you vagabond! You've done noth- ing except to keep me in a peck of trouble with your, tricks, : ‘“ Arter libin’ wid you eber since I war so high?” persisted Charcoal. “You've lived with me long enough, then. You can have a chance to show somebody else a sample of your quality.” “Yer ain’t in _airnest, are ye?” asked Dinah. “Why, de boy didn’t tumble down-stairs a purpose. He ain’t fool ‘nuff fur dat, nohow. Let de boy off, dis time, Mr. Hunter. Dar’s more chicken de kitchen. Ill soon git ye up anoder lunch.” ‘*Burn me, if I let him off, then! I’ve had enough of him. Come, pack oo up, you jackanapes! Get out of this before Iset my ers on you, for I'll flatten you up like a pancake, if I do.” It was evident that Mr. Hunter was too angry to be mn tg : wrong outside, of which Charcoal was reaping the full benefit, for his master was not usually so un- reasonable. ‘ “Don’t you neber mind, Mom Dinah,” said Char- coal, with more dignity. ‘I don’t like to be turned outen doors for nuffin’ at all, but I guess I'll git ‘long. Dar’s more nor one gemman has seen m style, and wanted to ‘gage me ‘fore now. But wasn’t gwine to leab yere. I warn’t goin’ back on Marse Hunter, ’cause I knowed he couldn’t git "long widout me.” “The blazes you, gid!” exclaimed Mr. Hunter with a grim laugh. “We'll see, my chap. And i don’t care a button how many Se you get. I hope they'll enjoy you, that’s all. Why, any sensi- ble man would go to the State prison before he’d put up with what 1 have stood.—Vamose now! Iam not going to stand here all day, blathering with you.” 8 got to git my t’ings fust,” rejoined Charcoal. “T isn’t goin’ widout my t’ings.”’ “Your things!’’ in a tone of etae es “What ins have you got? I don’t believe all you own is worth the value of a sixpence.”’ ‘an unexpected reception of his offer. cal Something must have gone’ “Mebbe dey aren’t to you,’’ grumbled Charcoal. “ But I sets some store by ’em.” “Very well. Go get your treasures, then. It will save mé the trouble of me Mey them thrown in the ash barrel. And off with that livery. You shall not take that away with you. Let me see you before you go out. don’t want you to carry anything away but what belongs to you.” a e boy neber stole nothin’ yit,” cried the cook, antly. in y. «Fou shut up, Dinah. Nobody asked your opin- ion in the matter. Do you take care to leave that livery, boy. wt Tdon’t want de ole livery,” exclaimed Charcoal, contemptuously. “I neber did ‘*prove ob it, any- how. Dar's too much red in it. don't agree my borne’ ‘With your complexion!” laughed Mr. Hunter, with a return of good humor. ‘Off with you, you rascal, or I'll shy a bootjack at your head.” Charcoal made his way grumblingly to his room, to pack up his effects. was half an hour or more ere the boy made his appearance. During this time Dinah dished up another lunch for her master, which he had eaten with a relish, and was consequently, in a better frame of mind, He felt, indeed, some com- punctions of conscience, in regard to Charcoal, to whom ‘he had been so long accustomed, that he hardly saw how he was to get along without him. He began to think, in his after-dinner mood, that he had been too hasty. ‘What keeps that boy?” he asked. “ Hurry him up, Dinah, Iwant to see him before he goes.” Charcoal had been engaged about a variety of things of importance to him, not least of which was his careful preservation of the bunch of Nalf-burnt papers, upon which he had based such lively hopes. ut he now came down-stairs, and presented him- self before his master, a very different looking ob- ject from what he had been before going to his room. His smart livery was taken off, and was replaced by a most dilapidated suit of clothes, more venti- lated than a sieve, for some parts of it would have held a baker's loaf. On his head was a f hat, with half the rim torn loose and flapping about his ears. Over his shoulder he held a short stick, with a small bundle at the end of it. Altogetber it was an extraordinary metamorphosis from the smart youth in livery of a short time before. “Yere’s yer ole livery,” said Charcoal, somewhat insolently, as he laid a bundle on the office desk. “You'd best see if it’s all dar. ‘CauseI don’t want nuffin’ ’cept my own. * And wake the thunder did you get that suit?” asked Mr. ag gan eying tin oe “Why, you’re a regu ram ng rag-bag.” *“*Dem's some > my ole workin’ clothes,”’ ex- ained Charcoal. ‘*Guess you don’t keer "bout em. I ain’t got nuffin’ elsé to put on 'cept dem.” “And you've _— next to nothing on now,” laughed his master. “If that suit had any more ventilation I am afraid you would hardly be a safe object to trust in the streets.—Here, boy,” he con- tinued laughingly, “ off with those dirt, , and ut on a rene ¢ hon I was more than half in un just now, and will give you another trial. You've been about here too long to be set adrift for a spoiled chicken-bone.” Charcoal listened with some surprise. Here was a decided change in the wind. Some quick thoughts passed through his mind. It was a comfortable pace, and no hard work, which just suited him. ut, then, there were events soon to take place that would bring his term of service with Mr. Hunter to a sudden termination, and he might as well finish it now, as he was ready to do so. “ Much ’bliged, Marse Hunter, but I guess I'll go,” he answered. “'N gers is got some feelin’s as well as white folks, Didn’t you to me jiss now 80's a fly wouldn’t crawl on me? An’ as soon’s you say, ‘stay yere,’ you s’poses I’s gwine to jump outen my skin to doit} Nary time. I’s got my duds packed up, and guess I won’t go frew dat job ag’in.”’ Mr. Hunter looked curiously at the boy. This was e had been so used ling the lad hard names that he never dreamed that the “nigger” had an gee | about it. Hecontinued to look at him,slowly whistling, while Charcoal stood straight upright, with his bun- dle over his shoulder, waiting for the end of this in- spection. “Put down that bundle and open it,’ Mr. Hunter harshly commanded, evident] concluding not to re peat his request to the boy. “Let me see if you are not carrying off Some of my property.” ““Dar’s on’y a pair ob Ole shoes, an’ some oder little t’ings,” explained Charcoal. ‘‘Dar's some marbles, and a top, an’ a piece ob twine, and—and some chawin’ gum. Dat’s "bout all. Don’t want none ob your property. Got ‘nuff ob my own.” **@pen the bundle I say,’’ commanded his master. * Ain’t got no sort ob ‘jections,” answered Char- coal, 4s he took the bundle from his shoulder and laid iton the dess. ‘‘Dar’s nuffin’ I’s ’shamed of.” He untied the knots of the large handkerchief of which the bundle was composed, and spread it out, revealing a miscellaneous collection of articles such as Charcoal had just named. “Dar dey is,” explained the boy. “Jiss as I tole ou. On’y chawin’ gum an’ marbles and sich. Bon't s’pose you wants none ob ’em.”’ ** What's that stuffed in your shoe?”’ Si é “Dat? Why dat’s on’y a pair ob stockin’s. I's vine barefoot to-day to sabe my shoes an’ stock- 8. * And that bunch in the other shoe. What is that? “Why, dat’s on’y "lasses candy. I bought some
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ymeney and stuck de balance ob it in de shoe, so’s wouldn't forgit it. Don’t s’pose you wants none ob dat neder.”’ ‘““No, hang me if I do, after it’s been through your hands. Tie up your bundle and be off with you, since you are bent on going.” .There was a certain degree of anxiety in Char- coal’s face while this inspection went on. He now, with a concealed grin of satisfaction, hastily re- formed his bundle, and slung it over his shoulder. ‘*Good-by, Marse Hunter,” said the boy, turning toward the door. “ Away with you, you ungrateful rogue,” was the harsh response. With a sarcastic grin Charcoal dis- appeared. CHAPTER XI. THE NEXT MOVE IN THE GAME. Ir was shortly after the hour in which Charcoal had made his exit from his old residence, that he made his entrance into Mr. Jackson’s office, rather startling that gentleman and his fair client. Charcoal was, as we have said, an‘ object. Bare- footed, and dressed in a suit of clothes that would have ed a chronic her with the torn rim of his hat flapping over his right ear, with the foot- pad’s bundle on shoulder, and a m of per- spiration and melted butter running down his sooty face, he was certainly a figure to laughed at or screamed at, acco: to the mood the person was in. His advent was met in both ways now. Clara ve a nervous little scream, while Mr. Jackson lay back in his chair, and laughed till the tears stood in is eyes. The excited eagerness of the boy added to his ridiculous appearance, as he continued to exclaim: “Tve cotched ‘um! I’ve ‘cotched *um! Sold dat ole rascal, Marse Hunter, dis time, suah!”’ ‘You've caught what, you popente little reprobate?” asked the lawyer, still ughing. ee | hope it isn’t the ague, or the yellow fever, t have you caught?"’ “T's cotched some more ob dem berry ’portant apers, sich as I brung you afore," answered the y, with more dignity. ‘‘Dar’s no mistake ‘bout ’em. Marse Hunter he crams ’em in de stove, and tries to burn ’em’ up. But de little nig was too wide awake. Dey weren't all burnt, an I’s got a bunch ob ’em dat’s mebbe worth dar weight in 1d.”” At this revelation there was a marked change in the demeanor of his listeners. Mr. Jackson sat bolt upright in his chair, with his eyes fixed closely on the oy sein face of the boy; while Miss Eldon leaned forward, with cla hands, her face suf- fused with the rosy glow of hope. “Let us see what you have got,” exclaimed the lawyer. ‘‘I shouldn't wonder if it was something of value, if that man was trying to burn it.” na i hope indeed it may prove so,” broke in Clara, in eager tones. “I hope it may prove the turn in the tide of my fortunes.” While they spoke Charcoal had taken the bundle from his shoulder, and deposited it upon the table, and was busily endeavoring to untie the knots, which he only fastened the tighter by his nervous haste, Mr Jackson looked at him curiously. “In what ditch or gutter did you pick up that as- tonishing suit, boy? hy, when you were here the other day you was as neat asa new pin, with your fancy livery. And now you look like an embassador from land."’ “I's ’scharged,’’ answered Charcoal, with a comi- cal ‘“‘Marse Hunter ’scharged me. An’ fur nuffin’ at all, on’y tumblin’ down stairs an’ upsettin’ a pan ob ashes on his lunch. An’ any nigger mout do dat, ef his foot sli . He’sde most onreason- able man you eber see. I wouldn’t lib wid sich a agp mma arter I was ’scharged.”’ By this time charcoal had succeeded in untying the hard knots, and he —- bundle open, dis- laying its miscellaneous contents: g There was a renewed laugh as their eyes fell upon the boy’s collection of treasures, of which the marbles set off on their own hook, rolling in all di- rections. He had much ado to catch them and re- store them to their places. ; “*Dem’s “4 t'ings,”’ he explained. “T's moved from Marse Hunter's, and dat’s my movin’.”’ ‘* And a very valuable collection of personal pro- rty, Ishould say,” the lawyer gravely responded. ‘But where are the impo t papers you spoke of?” Tt was Charcoal's turn to laugh. “Didn’t I shet de old boss’s eyes up on dem pa- rs?” he exclaimed. ‘“*He made me open de bun- le, but nary time did he see ’em." “Nor do 1,” answered the lawyer. ‘“‘ Where are they?” ‘Yere dey are,” grinned Charcoal, as he proceed- ed to extract a tight fitting e from one of his shoes. ‘I tole Maree Hunter dat were a paper ob "lasses candy, an’ he said he didn’t want none of m ‘lasses candy. If he’d on’y knowed what kind o ‘lasses candy dat were! Oh my!” And Charcoal expressed his feelings with a gay whistle, while he unfolded the carefully wrapped piece of brown aper. He threw it open with a ges- ture of triumph, and displayed its contents, in the shape of a hard mass of scorched papers, burnt half into a cinder. Mr. Jackson looked at them in dismay. He had not expected quite such a bargain as this. Clara, whose eyes were fixed ly upon his face, dropped back in her chair, quite discouraged by his dubious expression. “ Bless us, Charcoal, is ‘this all?” he exclaimed. “Why, I doubt if even a Philadelphia lawyer can make anything out of them.” . Sam Charcoal, the Premium Darky. — *Dar’s writin’ on ’em,” exclaimed Charcoal eager- ly. ‘“I’s ’zamined ’em.” “Wait a moment, then. _ Let me take a look,” said the disappointed lawyer, The bunch of papers was one‘ that had been close- ly laid together, forming a dense mass, into which the fire had failed to penetrate, though it had been considerably burnt around its pe ee and was badly scorched throughont. Mr. Jackson carefully in- serted a sharp blade of his penknife bétween two of the layers, and lifted the upper from the lower portion The face of paper which now showed it- self had not the scorched and blackened appear- ance of the upper, but was only slightly embrowned, while the writing upon it was. as plainly visible as ever. The lines of writing were not complete, how- ever, as they had been burnt off all around. Mr. Jackson bent over and fixed his eyes on the broken lines of writing. A low whistle came from his lips as he read them. ““By Jove, Charcoal,” he exclaimed, ‘‘I should not wonder if you have really found a prize. ‘This looks mighty suspicious.—There may be somethin of freet value here, Miss Eldon,” he continued. “It refers to some operations of John Hunter, as trus tee, which were not mentioned in his statement to the court. Do you know if he is trustee for any other estate?’’ “IT do not think it very probable,” she replied. ‘People would not generally choose such a man as e ” “It will not do to trust to that. People do very strange things. He deceived your father, and may have deceived others, I must look into this matter more deeply.”’ ‘*Dat’s all gammon!”’ exclaimed Charcoal, excited- ly, fearing that his discovery might go for noeine, * He isn’t a trustee for no y: n’t I lived w: him? He weren't a trustee eben for me.” “The eps of the pudding is in ene eating, friend Charcoal,” smiled the lawyer. ‘ We shall see. But I think very likely you are right; and, if s0, we have ee ae : tight yoo nty tight ‘ ope you’ m a squeeze; cause he Cabeen t,’’ answered Gharode Clara been eyeing the’ scorched papers dubi- ously. She began doubt that anyt could be feee with them, and expressed herself that ef- ect. ‘*T don’t know about that,” returned the lawyer. “*T must get them in shape first.” “How will you do that? I should think they would fall to pieces if touched.” “T shall lift them off one by one,"’ he explained, ‘and paste them flat on the leaves of a book. Then : bo ve them safe, and can examine them at my eisure.’ “Dear me! I should never have thought of that,” she exclaimed, with a hopeful flash of her eyes. Ten minutes afterward Charcoal found himself once more in the street. He and Miss Eldon had left the lawyer to his task, Charcoal first requesting the privilege of leaving his bundle in Mr. Jackson's office, until called for. “And what are you going to do, Sambo?” asked Clara, calling him by his old name. ‘ You have no home, no place.” “Don’t worry yerself "bout Sambo, Missy Clara," was the reply. ‘‘I’s got some money. An’ I'd sooner sleep on a board pile danon a , dese warm nights. Jiss you see if I don’t soon git a place.’ I hope so,” she responded. ‘If I succeed in my suit you shall never need a place n. Just now, unfortunately, I am as poor as you.” “ Neber you mind, Missy ra,’’ cried Charcoal, with much feeling. ‘‘ You's gwine to git yer rights, suah. Marse Hunter can’t git ober dem papers, now you see.”’ ‘ Charcoal was not sorry to get away from his young mistress, deep as was his love and admira- tion forher. It was getting late in the day, and he had another project in his mind to be put through that afternoon, if all things proved favorable. The fact is that Charcoal had his eyes opened to a late event. His supposed dream of thunder and lightning and bomb-shells did not seem so sure when he came to think of the colored pinned to his clothes. He shrewdly argued to self that no dream yet ever had such an effect as that, and that pins, rags and feathers are not manufactured in jeep. But if not a dream, what was it? His ideas turned involuntarily to his sworn enemies—Teddy and Patsy. In fact, these young gentlemen had not been silent about their part in the affair, and it did not take much questioning among his cronies for Charcoal to arrive at the whole truth of the busi- ness. He had been victimized, that was the long and short of it. He had been taken at a base disadvan- tage in his sleep. But he was wide awake now, and revenge is sweet. How to get even with them was the one thought in Charcoal’s mind. In short, he had invented a scheme, which he longed to put in execution. It was no difficult matter to find the two boys. They were easily discovered, with some of their cronies, on their customary playgrounds in the southern part of the city. "Sphrooal walked up to them with a very innocent expression, “Hi! look at the nigger!” exclaimed Patsy. “What's gone wid all his smart clothes?” “I ain’t nobody's nigger now," explained Char- coal. “I’s been ’scharged, an’ I’s my own boss. Dar’s nobody to say now, ‘Come yere, you lazy nig- ger!’ I's goin’ blackberryin’, I is.” * Black 4’!”” cried Teddy. with a sneer. aon ther ain't no blackberries inside o’ ten mi “‘Mebbe dar ain’t, fur you, but dar is for me,” was 13 —ow the confident reply. “ An’ ’tain’t two miles, neder.. Guess I knows.’ Charcoal walked on with his head in the air. He had not gone far before he was joined by the boys, as he had shrewdly cted. “See here, Charcoal,” exclaimed Teddy. ‘ We ain’t got nothin’ ag’in’ you. Ye’s ain’t goin’ to eat. them all.”’ Don’t s’ I kin,’ answered Charcoal. “ But I. didn’t find ‘em for you. Dar’s plenty ob ’em, but I guess I'll keep ’em for oder n like myself."’ “Oh, now, Charcoal!” cri e boys in concert. “We ain’t got nothin’ ag’in’ you. It’s only all fun. You might show us where they are.” “‘ Nary time,” returned Charcoal, resolutely, as he walked hastily on. But he was not going to Ret rid of his customers so easily as that. They followed him closely, bound that he should not enjoy his feast of fruit that day without help. After they had walked considerably more than a mile ina south-westerly direction, the banks of the Schuylkill became visible at no great distance ahead, Charcoal here turned, with a sar- castic laugh. “T hope you's enjoyed yer walk, young gemmen,”’ he remarked. ‘‘Guess I won't go for any black- berries to-day.” ‘Oh, now, Charcoal! Come, Charcoal! know we're all on your side,” ‘“What'll you gib me den?”’ You “T ain’t got nothin’ ’cept some marbles,” an- swered Teddy. “I'll give you them if you show us where the berries is."’ “Dat’s a n. Hand ober dem marbles." It was with a chuckle of satisfaction that Charcoal consigned this prize to his pocket, and started to run at full s , calling out: “We're gwine right straight fur 'em all de time. De fust feller up Bits de fust pick. Hi) white fellers, le's see you run, They were not slow to obey, and there was a copia race for the banks of the n ghboring river. Teddy and Patsy were the two best runners of the party. and were soon up to, and a little ahead of Charcoal. **Don'’t ye see de bushes dere?” cried the latter. “Right .ober de ditch, on de riber bank. Dere's more ob ’em furder down. An’ jiss full ob berries.”’ ‘* How are we goin' to git over the ditch?” asked Teddy, who was in advance, and saw that there was a wide ditch between them and the bank where the blackberry bushes yg “*Dar's no water in it,” answered Charcoal. “It's dry, and as hard as a stone, We’s got to jump right rs) * He rg on some extra speed, as if anxious to be first at the bushes. But Teddy and Patsy followed his example, and reached the borders of the a ditch side by side, Charcoal being a little behind, and the other boys further in the rear. Fully con- fiding in his representations they leaped side by side from the bank. The ditch was too wide for them to spring across, and they lit just beyond its center. At the same moment Charcoal checked his with a scream of laughter, and held out his han the other boys to do likewise. And with reason. For the ditch, instead of being filled with hard earth, held a smooth, treacherous, sticky mud, into which the two confiding boys sunk pha “4 their —s Ma eee toga e on ts) und, screaming an cking eels with mire.” And the other boys, too, faithless allies, joined in the merriment of their treacherous guide. **Oh de laws o’ mercy !” pig Charcoal in delight as Teddy and Patsy struggled tn their muddy bath. “Oh, war der eber sech fun? How’s ye like black- berries, hey? Any fool’d know dar nabs weren’t a perry on dem bushes, Got any more fire-crackers, hey? Got any more snuff? S‘pose you gib de nig- ger some, de nex’ time you co’ him asleep?” ¢ Capen him and fling him in foo, yelléd the two oys, who were now the v the rad to the shore dragging mselves through ut Charcoal, a parting jeer, set off as ra as he could for laughter, the ae boys tens soon distanced by the fleet-footed little Aariy. But what objects the two trieked lads were when for they reached shore! Covered to their waists with a yellow clay, that had anything but a sweet smell, while their shoes had been sucked from their feet in the bottom of the ditch, it was evident from their woe-begone looks that they fancied that Char- coal had the of the innings at present. CHAPTER XII. A CASE IN COURT. Ar Clara’s earnest request her legal advisers had obtained several weeks’ delay of the law-suit, so that no opportunity of obtaining evidence in her favor ht be lost. She did not confide to them that her principal object was to give Mr. Jackson time to work up his side of the case, and trace out that hid- den mystery of the western lands. It was a month after the date of our last chapter when the parties to the suit were again gathered in the rooms of the Orphans’ Court, on South Sixth street, Philadelphia. Clara was present, with her two worthy lawyers; and John Hunter, with his equally worthy advocate. But there were others, who rs alittle in the back- und, yet who were not without an interest in s case. Samuel ater Ue iy” was there, ap- parently engaged in some en different business. And, from a bench in the rear of the room, shone the black face of Sacer seg Ae was apparently only interested in keeping © flies off devoted nose, and smiling at the recollection of how neatly he had paid off his enemies in their own coin. “We have nothing further to offer, your Honor, beyond our statement of the settlement of the estate,” began Mr. Brown, addressing the judge
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t, Mr. Hunter, has done his duty as Iaffrm, thirdly, that John Hunter has burnt the But, unfortunate- apes which would show his villainy in this affair.” e trustee to the best of his ab in such a hopeless Mr. Eldon’s aff has been all these years them out, with the result o testate. ‘The debts of the estate have | at once, erly aid, and all available assets collected, | ger and re mination. sult ag shown in the statement in your ““There, there, there!” exclaimed the judge. hing left for the heiress, | “‘ There are too many spoons in the broth at once, er by my client have | gentlemen. This matter must be settled quietly But for that he | and calmly. Please keep cool. Mr. Jackson is a snarl that he Honor’s hands. There is not In fact, the advances made h been from his own asks no remuneration.” “The judge looked quietl with his spectacles pushed He then turned over the pages 0 fore him, and asked a few questions about its sev- calmly.” rivate fortune. y at him as he spoke, Eldon. He makes severe een but they are back on his forehead. | not sustained as yet. Anger f the statement be- | matter. We must go through this affair quietly and smoothly answered, he looked up | seat, with a smile of defiance. The papers were eyes fixed upon the plaintiff’s coun- burnt. No one could prove what they were. Let But Messrs. Smith & Herring, though for de- “You have made a strong statement, Mr. Jack- in the state- | son,” continued the judge. - They had | stantiate it?” rt, they acknowledged, to discover “] have a witness, your honor,” replied Mr. Jack- e found of the trustee’s unfaith- | sen, looking around for Char “This boy of bis duty; but in vain. rring made quite an effective little speech, There was a deep scowl on John Hunter's face as about the duties of guardians, the helplessness of wards and all that sort of thing, but hav no more to do with the case in hand than with an earth- Kong. He looked frequently at neat little address, and was satis- her smile that he had nade quite a hit with not with the court. He sat down at length, quite satisfied with his looking up with his but—is there any cency’s sake objecting to certain points ment, had no new evidence to offer. if any proof coul flight of eloquence. asked the judge, “that is very neat; I have here the carefully prepared I am sorry for the but I have heard nothing to call it in It was now Mr. Smit which was, if anything, int, than that of his partner. The judge listened with great patience. k up the statement. nothing in rebuttal—” he began. at this point, an unexpected interrup- ackson, who had been busily , jotting encil in another part of the y paying no attention to the statement of the defendant. h’s turn to make an effort, more wandering, and less down something in room,,and apparent case before the court, now rose. ‘Your Honor,"’ he udge turned q Excuse my interruption, were about deciding u d uickly toward him. he continued. n a case in which I have some little interest. I hope you will give me a few minutes first.” ese words, were heard with considerable surprise. Mr. Hunter grew red in the fac at the speaker. Nor were Mess: As for Clara, © as he looked around rs. Smith & Herrin, ed. the presistent smile face deepened. The judge threw back his “Mr, Jackson,” he answered. “‘ Why certainly we will hear what you have to say.” “Mr, Hunter has produced a consi ers to the court,’’ began Mr, Jackson. some papers of importance which it would be well for your Honor tosee. There is one , for instance, which fell by mistake into the s of Messrs. Smith & Herring, when it was in- tended to be Vieliveredto Mr. Brown. Will the gen- tlemen please produce that pa’ hese words fell like a thun er, their faces toward them. “Why, ifit has any bearin “We certainly sho Smith & Herring whispered together. They were evidently disturbed. It would not do to den, they had seen the dark aspect of Charco: rear of the room. “Your Honor,’’ began Mr. Herring, after this short conference, ‘there was such a paper, ake into our hands. derable number erbolt upon the con- looked guiltily from one to th slightly paling. The judge loo g on the case,” he said, I admit, d But it had no and we returned it to the who had brought it, to be delivered to its proper destination.” these words had been enow stood bolt uprig ack face glowing with heat and in- livered by mist: upon this case, Charcoal, durin edging forward. the judge, his bl ine to b’lieve all dat?” he ejaculated. as you gib me to tote to Marse k de ’riginal yerself to Marse ’ gold it to him too, dat's more.” “Ha!” exclaimed the judge angrily. this mean? Hold address the court ‘“-Scuse me,’ o fur to do it. t before ‘*Tt war on'y acopy ** What does ur tongue, boy! How dare you that manner? answered Charcoal humbly. ‘TI It come squar’ out itself, eered dat Herrin’ a liein’ in dat fashion.” “Are we to submit to this; claimed Herring indignantly. r had no bearing on this case. know on what grounds or authori son dares to interfere in 4 matter with w hing to do. “Miss Eldon there is my authority,” quietly answered, pointing to the yo to the grounds of my interference, he continued, his voice i _ while his keen eyes were *T affirm that been robbed of her estate by Jo moreover, that the counsel whom she had have traitorously sold her out to her enemy. your Honor?” ex- “T repeat that the And I should ty Mr, Jack- hich he has Mr, Jackson y are these,”’ loud and stern, n the last speaker. and that she has Sam Charcoal, the Premium Darky. sternly. further, re was a sudden uproar in the court at these ed in | severe remarks. ing Smith, Herring and Hunter, were all on their feet addressing the judge, full of an- no use reputable attorney. He has been retained by Miss not decide the Hunter had by this time settled back upon his good ka them do their worst. the P What have you to sub- 801 here.” Charcoal prepped erly forward, and took the oath at the clerk’s desk. Mr. Jackson began to question him. Charcoal told, in his roundabeut way, the whole story, of how he had been directed to take a paper to 606 Walnut street, and had taken it to 609 instead. How he had been sent for it, and received a paper from Mr. Smith, which he had left at 606, ow, subse- quontly Mr. Herring had called on Mr. Hunter, and told him pig Sey a ithe Baw Iie — oy a copy, and tha e e original, whic offered to sell him for five hundred dollars. There was something of a commotion in the court as this evidence came out. “How do you know this?” exclaimed Herring, starting up, with a very red face. “T warn’t fur away when you an Marse Hunter was absquatulatin’ togeder. ? tion.”’ He then “Where were you?” ; not quite . “Go on, if you wish,” smiled Mr. Jackson, ‘‘I have | his bribin no objection for you to take the examination out of | his ward my hands.” I were on de wrong side ob de door,”’ answered Charcoal. “ But it ‘+ de fust time I’s heered t'ings frew de eT hs “The confounded black villain!” ce his for- mer master, of hearing this declaration. “Have you any further questions?” asked Mr. Jackson, poet “No, no, His Honor can judge of the character of the evidence which is obtained im that manner. 1 deny the whole tg § Magee that I did return a paper to Mr, Hunter, that fell into my hands by mistake. The pexer sent Mr. Brown was quite another affair.” hole. tricke upon C Philadel “You And Herring took his seat again, with a very layed on virtuous look. . ‘* Proceed, Mr. Jackson,” said the judge ed bai “We will the question of that paper for the resent,” remarked the lawyer, “ oe 4 as we © not know just what it was. It is not the only paper concerned. There were a number of others, which Mr, Hunter was wise enough to reduce to ashec in his stove.” ““Very sorry I did,” replied that gentle with a sarcastic smile, ‘*Tbhe next time I have old rub- bfsh to burn up I shall call Mr. Jackson in first to examine it. But as all this valuable matter is ac- knowledged to be turned to ashes I am very much afraid our friend here cannot build up much ofa case out of the ashes.” “Perhaps he can,” answered Mr. Jackson, with a smile that the last speaker did not quite like. “What did you get out of those ashes, Charcoal?”’ he asked the witness, ** And entrap tient) and I “Some berry portant dockyments,” answered | over. it, for | Charcoal, witha grin. ‘De fire didn’t burn up all at the | de evidence, for dem papers weren’t all conflagrated, by no manner ob means.” ** You treacherous villain!” broke out Mr. Hunter, in furious disregard of the court. ‘You lie, hang you! You got nothing from that stove. And you took nothing out of my house.” “*Cept some lasses candy dat were stuffed in one ob de nigger’s shoes,’’ Charcoal answered, with a sly laugh. Mr. Hunter did not need the judge’s stern rebuke. Chareoal’s reply had quite floored him. The boy had been too sharp for him, after all. “To what is all this leading, Mr. Jackson?” asked the judge, in 4 tone of great interest. “Po this, your Honor. The statement offered by the trustee of Mr. Eldon’s estate fails to cover the whole of the property committed to his c e. There was also considérable landed property in the West, of which no account is rendered, and whose existence there is not a scrap of paper offered to show.’ *‘ Perhaps you can show some scraps ef paper re- lating to these fancied Western lands,” remarked Mr. Brown, in a sarcastic tone. “Exactly. Ican show some scraps of paper,”’ re- plied Mr. Jackson, calmly. “Mr. unter’s confla- gration, unluckily for him, wasnot complete, Some of his papers eecapee burning. You will find the papers in question here, your Honor. e handed the judge a scrap book, which he had borne under his arm, and on whose leaves were neatly pasted the bits of burned paper whieb Char- coal had brought him. - The nde looked at them with evident interest. Then his eyes were fixed st on John Hunter, whose face had turned from to pale. ‘How are we to explain this?” asked the judge e- adually him. ain. “As of an. d d ‘Have you examined in’ Mr. Jackson? If so, what is ”» answered the lawyer. is that John Hunter is indebted to Clara Eldon in thesum of about one hundred thousand dollars, the oe of the sale of the western lands belonging her father’s esta’ “Didn’t I know it?’ Charcoa talkin’. De nigger was too smart fer de white folk dat time. “*T have, *“* And the result «~ CHAPTER XIV. GETTING EVEN. Tae murder was out, as the old sayin as the rascal had been, he had been wu ing a friend of the other side in his rtly by his natural sh house. Char- culations of his vil- ed to his yeung mistress hich the precious rogue had as I’s de smartest feller oal, his black face satisfaction, *‘ but I’s got my eyes open got. dere’s shet. Ma ck, had upset all th ous master, and ‘Don’t want to b goin’, Miss radiant wi when some oder folks Hunter t’ou’t he were eber so sharp, but fooled him right under his nese. did de bizness, Missy Clara. He di my ‘lasses candy. Yaw, yawh Gu Dat "lasses candy dn’t want none, of ess he'd better Sambo,” replied the young “YT owe all am worth to you, and kind recollection of our services to me.” *d cut his ears . B’pose I's eber in ole North Caroliny? poor white folks up yere. © back on de Carolin took a bite.”’ “You are a gra shall never forgetit. Your your old playmate is worth all “Why, bress ye, Miss Clara. off any time de days down oe to — ‘Ain’ ¢ een to git dis ni ‘ © hoe-cake, nary time. dat! Dey ain’t nuffin’ “longside ob de ole planta- But though there was so much satisfaction on this side of the question, ) agreeable. Despite all of the laywye elpless, one un had let all his fish escape. And Charcoal was the mouse W. Naturally, then, th on John Hunter's his well-laid plans, rs, and his effort to render thought-of hole in his net ho had nibbled that e discovered villain was who had exposed his fact, his chief anger was concentrated arcoal, and his one idea was to reve him- n him. For this purpose he rem hia longer than was safe for one who was t, to have a criminal p seeking some means of get- furious liable, at any momen tion laid against him, ting the boy in his power. out some of Charcoal’s habits’ and as- and heard of the trick which he had latety the two young Irish vagabonds, T They were furious against Charcoal hich he had treated them, and vowed The matter ended in Mr. Charcoal prisoner in their captive to his they were both re- about a week unter was im- g the floor of his office, waiting for The boys had laid ascheme to Charcoal that afternoon, and the house had been cleared of Dinah and all other persons, so as interference with his intended revenge. 1 nab the black hound,” he impa- ‘‘Things are getting hot for me, soon. And Idon’t -handed,’”’ he continued with a urt has not yet made me hand is all in real estate ey are a little mis- ady cash which will con- ctations. Let that confounded nigger; known.”’ oise in the hall below; 2 Hastily leaving the room rs. There were his two con- federates, with two others of their cronies; and Charcoal a prisoner in their midst. They had suc- © boy by a well-laid scheme, into the open door of Mr. e foun sociates, all manner of v A Hunter engaging them to take any manner house, when he would see tha venged and rewarded Tt was late in after the court scen patiently an expec the afternoon of a da to avoid an **T hope they have to make tracks very intend to grim smil They think the propert which I cannot mak taken there, 1 have some re: siderably diminish Miss El me once get my will out of and then, hey, for parts He was interrupted sort of dragging soun he looked down the stai ceedétin entrap and had dragg Hunter’s residence, as directed. “Good for you,” cried that gentleman heartily. ut the door, and bring the nigger I’ve got a little score to settle with him.”’ but his captors were too him up step after step, e would have yelled for: had provided for that by a thick hich was pressed tightly down upon ‘*Be careful to up-stairs. Charcoal resisted lustily, strong for him, and despite his struggles. help, but they ones of wax w is mouth. John Hunter stood with a grim smile of satisfac- tion as the unwilling captiv presence. “Glad to see yon, Charco ** Tt does one’s eyes £ —~ e was dragged into his —~. al,” he satirically greeted © ood to see his old friends Come to look after some more burnt papers, eh? Just take a look into the stove. Maybe you ttering sounds behind his hat he was not in search mee find some.” made some spu “ ; yes! with cruel pleasantry. Let him take a look for papers. ** Sure an’ we'll do th vicious laugh, ‘He got our legs inthe mud, Faith ist on it,” answered his late master, ‘“Poke his head in, bo ,’ eried Teddy with a
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ae —~._ +- if we won't pay him up by puttin’ his head in the ashes.”” neg up to it, though he struggled usly. But our to one are great odds, and all his struggles were in vain, His head was forced Ae ay the neck into the open door of the stove. Fi , under the villain’s directions, ‘s arms were drawn around the stove and his hands tied together, sp that he was a prisoner without hope of escape. His hands were so tightly bound that he could not get his head out, while any active movement threatened to cut his neck against the sharp sides of the stove door. The merciless villain laughed as hé surveyed his helpless prisoner, with his head thus thrust into the pe door of the upright round stove, and bis back sticking out at a curve just suitable for a flogging. -Sar- “Any burnt papers there?” hé asked, wi castic humor. ‘‘Suppose we burn some paper for him, boys. He won't be satisfied unless he finds some, And it will be fun to see him dance when he smelis the smoke. Charcoal was dancing already at this heartless supaceion. . at’s the ticket!” yelled Teddy. ‘* Let’sscorch the nigger’s nose.”’ **No, no,” answered bia eautio . Ae mought smother him. It won’ be no fun if we get hauled up for murder.” Mr. Hunter cruelly laughed. : “ It’s no crime to’murder a nigger,” he remarked. ‘* But we'll let him off this time. e’ll just score him, so as to know him when we want him again, Strip off his jacket.” e boys hastened to obey, while their heartless confederate drew forth a short, thick-lashed whip, which he drew knowingly through his hands, “Im off on a long journey, Charcoal,” he an- nounced. ‘For fear you should forget me before I return I will leave you something to remember me by. Just a little keepsake.” A choking sort of groan came from Charcoal's lips. His back was now bare, and curved for the Jash of his cruel master, who laughed with tigerish ferocity as he drew the whip again through his hand, and stood off, measuring the distance for an effective blow. The grinning boys stood with their handg on their knees, watching the expected flogging of their old ‘08. The lash fell lightly on the bare back, but Char- coal’s nerves were so wronght up that he madea start at this mere touch that almost overthrew the stove. “Some of you hold the stove,’’ commanded Mr, Hunter. ‘I'll tickle him a little more next time.” He prepped off and raised the lash to the full stretch 0 muscular arm. Heintended that the blood should follew that blow. Butit never fell. For at that moment the house door below was thrown open, and there was the sound of quick steps on the floor, Mr. Hunter stood listening, with the whip still up- raised. Thesteps came quickly up the stairs, the office door was thrown open, and two men entered the room. ‘* What have we here?” cried one of these stern- looki new-comers. ‘“‘By Heaven, we came in time, it seems! There’s seme devil's work on hand here. 1s not yeur name John Hunter?” * That is my name.” - “Then drep that ‘whip, and yield yourself my prisoner, We have a warrant against you, on a criminal charge.” ; * What charge?” he Panay asked. p “That of fraud, and attempted robbery of your ward, Miss Eldon.”’ Mr. Hunter grew @ as he dropped the whip. He looked about him like a wolf at bay. The window of the office was raised, and with a quick leap he y os toward it, darting through the open- ing and disappearing belew. : The man who — followed him, with an exclamation of surprise. The roof of a shed lay just below the window. From that theground was readily reached. : The officers sprung through the open window in pu ; But before d so one of them had cut Char- coal's bands, and that worthy quickly withdrew his head from its confinement, and tore the mask from his mouth. His eyes [ng around. There, on the floor, near him, lay the whip which had been in- tended fer his own back. It was but the work of a moment to seize it, and turn on his shrinking foes. “You's had yer fun,” he ejaculated. “Guess it’s Chareeal’s turnnow. Git, you white trash! Git!” He was ameng them, dealing blows to right and left with the whip, with little r as to whether it fell on'their backs or faces. With howls of pain and dread they broke from the door, Charcoal fol- lowing, wsing the whip viciously, and yelling with deli at every cry which he brought frem his fiy- ing foes, f Didn’t beat de much dat time,” he ejaculat- ed, as he gave a g blow to the front deor, while his foes ran how down the street. ‘Guess Char- coal’s boss yere new; andI’s gwine to hold dis ’stab- Tisament fer Clara, ’coz Marse Hunter has one fake, And old it. Mr. Hunter esca ursuit, but his desire fer revenge proved a oa Per him, since he had to leave bekind him the funds he had earefully prepared to take with him. These were found in the house, and as they proved necessary to make up the sum of Miss Eldon’s claim they were appropriated to that p fi As soon as the proper legal-preliminaries were gone through with she was put in possession of the Sam Charcoal, the Premium Darky. estate, Charcoal and Dinah holding the fort as gar- rison until she was ready to step in as mistress, And here our story may end. The villainous ardian had disappeared utterly. The ward, whom e had attempted to victimize, was in full posses- sion of her property, and, as may be surmised, Charcoal was not the least important of the house- hold which his young mistress gathered arownd her. He could never cease chuc over the way in which he had outwitted ‘ole rse Hunter,” and had turned the tables on ‘*dem low white trash,” and only one unsatisfied wish remained to him which was ‘‘to git back on de ole plantation, an hab a taste once more ob North Caroliny hoecake."" THE END. The Fireside Library. 1 Was Sur His Wire? By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell. 2 Firerne From Love. by Harriet Irving: 3 Dip He Love Her? By Bartley T. Campbell. 4 A Srrance Woman. By Rett Winwood. 6 Two Grrus’ Lives. By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell. 9 THe War or Hearts. By Corinne Cushman. 11 Tae Fatsr Winow. By . Jennie D, Burton, 12-138 Losr ror Love. By Miss M. E. Braddon. 14-15 Tormers or THE Sa. By Victor Hugo, 16 THe QuapRoon. By Catharine A. 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By Author of ‘‘ Dead Letter.” 47 Viats or WraTH. By Mrs. Fo Bos ogy Crowell. 48 A Witp Giru._ By Corinne C an. 49 Tue Mappest Marrrace Ever Was. By Burton 50 Love in A Maz. By Mrs. E. F. Ellet. 61 CarHonina; or, WALLED Up Aurvre. By Robinson. MANCE OF A Poor YounG Ginyu, By Mrs. Ellet. 58 Tae Locxep Heart. By Corinne Cushman. 54 Poe Prive or THE Downes. By Margaret Blount, 55 A Srrance Gru, By Albert W. Aiken, 66 Tae Prerry Purrran, By Parson’s Daughter. 57 Dip Sue Sry? By Mrs. Mary Reed i 58 Dousiy Divorcep, By Mrs: Jennie Davis Burton. 59 A Wickep WoMAN. e Devereux Umsted Blake. 60 Burp Barsara’s SECRET. 61 AN AMBRICAN ae 62 MARGOUN, THE Gr. By Wm. M. 63 Wure or Winow. By Rett Winwood. 64 Toe CreoLE Cousins, ee a 8. Warne.» 65 PursveD TO THE ALTAR. Corinne Cushman. 66 Tux TERRIBLE TrRuTH. By Jennie Davis Burton. 67 Exeaant Eapert. By Philip 8. Warne. 68 Lapy Hetzn’s Vow. By Mrs. E. F, Ellet. 69 Bowr, Tae Kniout or Curvaury. By P. §.Warne. 70 Drivrine TO Rum. By Mary Reed Crowell. 71 Tue Parson’s DAUGHTER. eo, Parson's Daughter 72 Tar Mysrerrous GUARDIAN. Corinne Cushman. 73 Was Sue A Wire? By Rett Winwood, 74 Apria, THE ADOPTED. By Mrs. Jennie’D, Burton. 7 PRETTY AND Proup. By Corinne Cushman. 76 Tue Brrrer Freup. By Mrs. Jennie D. Burton. 77 A Woman’s Work. By Mrs. E. F. Ellet. 78 Tae Buack Rippie. By Corinne Cushman. 29 CorRAL AND Rupy. By Mrs. Jennie Davis Burton. 80 Divorce Bor Nor Drvipmp. A Parson’s Daughter. 81 AtmMost Marrrep. By A Parson’s Daughter, 82 Two Far Women. Wm. Mason Turner, M.D. 83 Tre INHERITANCE oF Hane. By Mrs. Burton. 84 PEARL or Pearts. By A. P. Morris, Jr. _ 85 For Henor’s Saxe. By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell. 86 Lance UrqguHAr?T’s Loyrs, By Annie Thomas. 87 SareLy Marrtep. By the author of ‘ Caste. 88 FLorerre, CHILD oF THE STREET. By In ¥ 89 Torer Trves Dmap. By Miss M. E. on. 90 For A WomAn’s Sake. By Watts eer 91 “ ‘He Comern Nor,’ Se Sam.” Annic Thomas. 92 Tue New Macpaten, By Wilkie Collins. 93 AN Oren VERDICT. By Miss M. EF. Braddon. 94 SworpD AND Gown. By George A. Lawrence. 95 A BecaaR on Horsrsack. By James Payn. 96 Hxer Face Was Her Fortune. F. W. Robinson. 97 Jane Eyre. By Charlotte Bronte, 98 WRECKED IN Port. eer Yates. 99 Tar CoLLean BAwN. Gerald Griffin. 100 AN Amarrious GIRL. by A Celebrated Actress. 101 Foun Pray. By Chas. Reade and Dion Boucicaullt., 102 Garrra, By Mrs. Oliphant. * 108 A Woman lpeeaes Charles Reade. i04 Arrer Dark. By Wilkie Collins. 105 Harp Tries. By Charles Dickens. 106 Grrr. By B. L. Farjeon. A new issue every week, For sale by all newsdaalers pre ten cents, or sent, pos d, on receipt welve cents. E AND 8, Publishers, 98 William street, N. Y. 15 BEADLE & ADAMS’ STANDARD DIME PUBLICATIONS. Speakers, Brapie anp ApAms have now on their Lists the fol- lowing highly desirable and attractive prepared expressly for scheols, families, etc. volume contains 100 large , printed from clear, open m compriits CS) collection of Dia- logues, Dramas and tations, (burlesque, comic and otherwise.). The Speakers for the season of 1881—as far as now issued—embrace twenty-three volumes, viz. : 1, American Speaker. 13, School Speaker. 2. National Speaker. 14. Tudicrous Speaker, 3. Patriotic Speaker. 15. Komikal § . 4. Comic Speaker. 16. Youth’s 8 q 5. Elocutionist. 17. Eloquent pene 6. Humorous Speaker. 18. Hail Columbia Speak- 7, Standard Speaker. er. 8, Stump Speaker. 19. Serio-Comic Speaker 9, Juvenile er, 20. Select Speaker. 10. Spread-Eagle Speaker | 21. Funny Speaker. 11, Dime Debater. 22, Joll Speake 12. Exhibition Speaker. Dialect er. 3, These books are os tere with choice pieces for the the choicest oratory of the times, 75 to 100 Declama. Dialogues. 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Il Deadwood Dick, THe PRINCE OF THE ROAD, a Edward L. Wheeler. 2 Yellowstone Jack, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 3 Kansas King; or, THe Rep Ricut Hann. By Buffalo Bill (Hon, Wm. F. Cody). 4 The Wild-Horse Hunters. By Captain Mayne Reid and Captain Frederick Whittaker. tS Sigg sae ds Joe, THE YOUNG WANDERING JEW; or, G FoR A Leaacy. By Oll Coomes. 6 Bll Biddon, Trapper. By E. S. Ellis. 7 The Flying Yankee; or, THe Ocksn Ovr- cast. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 8 Seth Jones. By Edward $. Ellis. 9 Adventures of Baron Munchausen. 10 Nat Todd. By E.S. Ellis. 11 The Two Detectives. By A.W. Aiken. 12 Gulliver’s Travels, By Dean Swift. 13 The Dumb “> By Oll Coomes. 14 Aladdin; or, THe Wonpersvt Lamp. 15 The Sea-Cat, By Captain Fred. Whittaker. 16 Robinson Crusoe, (27 Illustrations.) 17 Ralph Roy, tHe Boy - Buccaneszr; or, THE Fueitive Yacut. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 18 Sindbad the Sailor. His Seven Voyages. 19 € Phantom Spy. By Buffalo Bill. 20 e Double Daggers. By E. L. Wheeler. 21 The Frontier Angel. By Edward §. Ellis. 22 The Sea Serpent; or, Taz Boy Rozsmson Crusor. By Juan Lewis. 23 Nick o° the Night; or, Tux Boy Spy or 76. By T. C. Harbaugh. 24 Diamond Dirk. By Colonel P. Ingraham. }j 25 The sf | Captain. By Roger Starbuck. 26 Cloven Hoof, Tue Borr. EMON; or, THE Borper Voutures, B rd L. Wheeler, 27 Antelope Abe, Txt Boy Guimz. Oll Coomes 28 Buffalo Ben, THE Prince or THE PISTOL; Drapwoop Dick ov Diseuise. E. L. Wheeler. 29 The Dumb Page. AS gs F, Whittaker. 30 Roaring Ralph Rockwood, THE REcK- Less RANGER. By Harry St. George. 31 Keen-Knife, Prince or THE Prunes, By Oll Coomes. 32 Bob Woolf, THe Borprr Rorrtan; or, Tar Grrau Dreap-SHor. By Edward L. Wheeler. 833 The Ocean Bloodhound. §. W. Pierce. 34 Oregon Sol; or, Nick Wuirriss’ Boy Spry B Sg J. ¥. CG. Adams. 35 Wil Ivan, THE Boy CiaupE Dovat; or, THE BROTHERHOOD o¥ DeaTu. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 36 The. Boy Clown. By k S. Finn. 87 The Hidden Lodge. By T. C. Harbaugh. 38 Ned Wylde, THE Boy Scour. By Texas Jack. $39 Death-Face, THe Detective. BY Wheeler. 40 Roving Ben. A Sroryor a Youna AMERI- @AN Wuo WANTED TO See THE WoRLD. Marshall. 41 Lasso Jack. By Oll Coomes. 42 The Phantom Miner; or, Dxspwoop Dick's BoNANzA. By Edward L. Wheeler. 43 Dick Darling, Tae Pony Express Rmrr. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 44 Rattling Rube. By Harry St. George. 45 Old Avalanche, THe GREAT ANNINILATOR; or, WILD EDNA, THE Grew Brreanp. BE. L, Wheeler. 46 Glass Eye, THE Great SHOT OF THE WEST. Capt. J. F. C. Adams. By T. C. Harbaugh. B 47 Nightingale Nat. 48 Black John, THE Roap-AGENT. By: Badger. 49 Omaha Oll, THE Masked Terror: or, DEAD- woop Dick IN DANGER. By Edward L, Wheeler. §0 Burt Bunker, THe Trapper. C. E. Lasalle. 51 The Boy NBtifies. By Archie C. Irons. 52 The White Buffalo. By ©. E. Lasalle. 53 Jim Bludsoe, Jr., Tax Boy PHeEnrx; or, THRoveH To DeatH. By Edward L. Wheeler. 54 Ned Mazel, rue Boy Trapper; or, THz PHAn- TOM Princess. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 55 Deadly ~- Eye, tae Unxyown Scour; or, Taz BRANDED BrorHerHoop. By Buffalo Bill. 56 Nick Whiffles’ Pet. Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 57 Deadwood Dick’s Eagles; or, Taz Parps or FLoop Bar. aed L. Wheeler. 58 Whe Border King. By Oll Coomes. 59 Old pa & By any St. George. 60 The White Indian, pt. J, re. Adams. 61 Buckhorn Bill; or, Taz Rep Rirte Tram. By Edward L. Wheeler. . 62 The Shadow Ship. By Col. P. Ingraham. 63 The Red Brotherhood. W. J. Hamilton. 64 Dandy Jack. By T. C. Harbaugh. 65 Hurricane Bill. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr 66 Single Hand. B . J. Hamilton. 67 Patent-leather Joe. By Philip 8. Warne. 68 Border Robin Hood. By Buffalo Bill 69 Gold Biffle, txz SHAirpsHOOTER; or, Tax Boy DETECTIVE OF THE BLACK RANCH. by Wheeler. 70 Old Zip’s Cabin; or, Tot GREENHORN ry THE Woops. By J. F.C. Adams. 71 Delaware Dick. By Oll Coomes. 72 Mad Tom Western, tue TRexan Rancer; or, THE QUEEN OF THe PRarnix. By Hamilton. 73 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or, JANE, THE HEROIWE OF WHoop-Up. By Wheeler. 74 Hawk-eye Harry, By Oll Coomes. 75 Whe Boy Duelist. By Col. P. Ingraham, 23 Abe Colt, THE Crow-Kiizr. By A. W. Aiken. 77 Corduroy Charlie, raz Boy Bravo; or, Deapwoop Dick’s Lasr Acr. By E. L. Wheeler. 78 Blue Dick. By Captain Mayne Reid. 79 zos Ginger, GIANT TRAPPER. By A.W, Aiken. 80 Rosebud Rob; or, Nuager Np, THE Knicur OF THE GuLcH. By Edward L, Wheeler. 81 Lightning Jo. By Captain J. F.C. Adams. $2 Kit Haretoot, THE D-Hawk; or, OLD PowDER-FAce AND ‘His DEMONS. By Harbaugh. 83 Kollo, the Boy Ranger. By Oll Coomes. 84 Idy!, the Girl Miner. By E. L. Wheeler. $5 Buck Buckram; or, Bess, THE FEMALE TrapreR, By Captain J. F. C. Adams, BEADLE’S HALF-D 86 Dandy Kock. By G. Waldo Browne. 87 The Land Pirates. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 88 Photograph Phil, THE Boy Sievrs; or, RosEeBuD Rosp’s REAPPEARANCE. By E. L. Wheeler. 89 Island Jim. By Bracebridge Hemyng. 90 The Dread Rider. By G. Waldo Browne. 91 The Captain of the Club; or, Taz Youne RivaL Aruueres. By Bracebridge Hemyng. 92 Canada Chet; or, OLD ANACONDA IN SITTING Buu's Camp. By Edward L. Wheeler. 93 The Boy Miners. By ward 8. Ellis. 94 Midnight Jack, THE RoAD-AGENT; Tue Boy Trapper. By T. C. Harbaugh. 95 The Rival Hovers. Lieut. Col. Hazeltine. 96 Watch-Eye, THE SHADow. By E. L. Wheeler. 97. The Outlaw Brothers. By J. J. Marshall. 98 Robin Hood, THE OUTLAWED Eartz; or, THE Merry Men or GREENWOOD. Prof. Gildersleeve. 99 The Tiger of Taos; or, Wi. Karr, Danpy Rock’s ANGEL. By Geor Waldo Browne. 100 Deadwood Dick in Leaiville; or, A STRANGE SrrRoKE ror Liserty. By Wheeler. 101 Jack Harkaway in New York. By Bracebridge Hemyng. 102 Dick Dead-Eye, THe Boy Smvuaa.er; or, THE CRUISE OF THE VIXEN. By Col. Ingraham. 103 The Lion of the Sea. By Col. Delle Sara. 104 Deadwood Dick’s Device; or, THE SI@n or THE DovusLE Cross. By E. L. Wheeler. 105 Old Rube, THe HuntEr. ae H. Holmes. 106 Old Frosty, TH Guive. By T. C. Harbaugh. 107 One-Eyed Sim. By James L. Bowen. 108 Daring 0 ia By Harry St. George. 109 Deadwood ick as Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler. 0 The Black Steed of the Prairies. A Thrilling Story of Texan Adventure. By Bowen. The Sea-Devil. By Col. P. Ingraham. The Mad Hunter. . By Burton Saxe. Jack Hoyle, THz Youna SprcuLaTor; or, THe Roap To Fortung, By Ed. L. Wheeler. The Black Schooner, Roger Starbuck. The Mad Miner 3; or, Danpy x's Doom, By George Waldo Browne. 6 The Hussar Captain; or, THe Hermr oF Heti-Gate. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 7 Gilt-Edged Dick, THE Sport DETEcTIVE; Tue Roap-AGcent’s DAvGurer. Wheeler. or, 1 2 3 A 5 ei Jos, E. Badger, Jr. he Branded Hand. By Frank Dumont. Cinnamon Chip, THz Gmt Sport; or, THe GOLDEN Ipou or Mt. Rosa, Ed. L. Wheeler. Phil Hardy, Tux Boss Boy. By C. Morris. Kiowa Charley, THE Wars MusTanGceEr. BY T. C. Harbaugh. ippy, THE Texan, By George Gleason. Bonanza Bill, Miner. By Ed. L. Wheeler. Picayune Pete; or, Nicopemus, THz Doe Detective. By Charles Morris, Wild-Fire, Boss or THe Roap. By Dumont The Young Privateer, By H. Cavencish. Deadwoo Dick’s Double; or, Tue Grost of Gercon’s Guicn. Ed. L. eeler. Detective Dick. By Charles Morris. The Golden Handj3 or, Danpy Rock To THE RESCUE, George W. Browne. The Hunted Hunter. By Ed. §. Ellis. Boss Bob, tHe Kine or THE BooTBLACcKs: or, THE PAWNBROKER’s Por. Ed. L. Wheeler. 4*Sure Shot Seth, THz Boy Rirteman; or THe Youna Patriots of THE NortH. By Oll Coomes, 5 Captain Paul, THe Kentucky MoonsHINeR; or, THe Boy Spy or THe Movunrarns. By Clark, 6 Night-Hawk Kit. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr, 7 The Helpless Hand, Capt. Mayne Reid, 8 Blonde ill; or, DeEApwoop Dicr’s Home Bass. By Edward L. Wheeler. 9 Judge Lynch, Jr. By T. C. Harbaugh. 0 Blue Blazes; or, Tar Break o’ Day Boys or Rocky Bar. By Frank Dumont. 1 Solid Sam, THE Boy Roap-AGent; or, THE BranvDeD Brows. By Edward L. Wheetfer. 2 Handsome Marry, THe Boorsitack Dr- TECTIVE. By Charles Morris. Scar-Face Saul. By Oll Coomes. Dainty Lance, THE Boy Sport. By Badger. Captain Ferret, tar New Yorr Drrec- TIVE; or, Boss Bon's Boss Jos. By Wheeler. Silver Star, THE Boy Knicur, 'y Coomes. Will Wildfire, raz THoxovcasren; or, THe WINNING Hanv. By Charles Morris. Sharp Sam) or, THe ADVENTURES OF A FrrenDiess Boy. By J. Alexander Patten. A Game of Gold3 or, Deapwoop Dickr’s Www WwW WW WO wes Sw KO CS QU SH HO Ow Rw SD The o @ Bia Sreixzs. By Edward L. Wheeler. 0 Lance and Lasso, By Capt. F. Whittaker. 1 Panther Paul, Tae Prarmrm Prats; or, Darnry LANCE TO THE Rescre. J. E. r. Black Bess, Wir. Wire's Racer; or, WInninc AGAINST Opps. By Charles Morris, anna a an - - Ph PER FP P RO BAe & & i“) 3 Eagle Kit, THE Boy Demon. By Oll Coomes, 4 The Swerd Hunters. By F. Whittaker. 5 Gold Trigger, THE Sport. T. C. Harbaugh. 6 Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, Tue Pickep Party.. By Edward L. Wheeler. Mike Merry, THe Harsor Pouce Boy; or, Tue NiGHT-HAWEKES OF PHILADELPHIA. Morris, Fancy Frank of Colorado; or, Taz Trapprer’s Trust. By Buffalo Bill. The Lost Captain; or, Toe Open Pouar Sea. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. The Black Giant; or, Damry Lance ww Jroparpy. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. New York Nell, Tat Boy-Giru Derecrrve; or, OLD BLAKESLY'S Mowzy. By E. L. Wheele1. W£Ull Wildfire in the Woods, ht oO @ 159 160 161 162 Morré. ne AS Little Texas, THe Younc Mustaneer, A Tale of Texan Prairies. By Oll Coomes. Dandy Rock’s Pledge. By G.W. Browne. Billy Baggage, THE AD Boy; or, Roun to EartH. By Charles Morris. Hickory Marry. By.Hasry St. Sear. Asa Scott, Taz Steampoat Boy. By Willett. Deadly Dash. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. Tornado Tom; or, Insun Jack From Ren Corr. T. C. Harbaugh. A Trump Card; or, Wm. WILDFIRE Wixs AND Loses, By Charles Morris. Ebony Dan. By Frank Dumont. Thunderbolt Tom; or, THe WoLr-HERDER OF THE Rockies. By H St. George. Dandy Rock’s Rival. By G.W. Browne. Bob Kockett, THz Boy Doparr. By Morris, Captain Arizona, By Philip 8.Warne. The Boy Runaway ; or, THe BuccANEER oF THE Bay. Lieut. H. D. Perry, U.S.N. Nobby Nick of peevedas or, THE SCAMP OF THE SIERRAS. By Edw L. Wheeler. Old Solitary. By Oll Coomes. Bob Rockett, Tae Bank Runner. Morris. 0 The Sea Trailer; or, A Vow WELL Kept, dl Lieut. H. D. Perry, U. BN. 181 ild Frank, THe Buckszm Bravo; or, Lapy Liny’s Lo By Edward L. Wheeler, 182 Little Hurricane, tHe Boy Capram. By Oli Coomes. 183 The Hidden Hand; or, Writ WILDFInz’s REVENGE. Chas. Morris. 184 The Bo ailers; or, Danvry Lance on THE WiAR-PaTH. By Jos. E. er, Jr, 185 Evil Eye, Krixe or Catr_e THirvss; or, THE VULTURES OF THE Rio Granpe. By F. Dumont. 163 - ony ee 165 ee AAD a ° 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 Dt peek phat fd ft fl fd WeakeE oF siakekak aFok af 186 Cool Desmond}; or, Tax Gamsier's Bic Gamez. Col. Delle Sara. 187 Fred alyard, raz Lirrz Boar Bor; or, THE LERS OF THE INLET. By C. Morris. 188 Ned Lae pe THE Borper Boy. Harbaugh. 189 Bob Rockett, Tux Cracksman. By Morris. 190 Dandy Darke; or, THe Ticers or Hrex PINE. Wm. R. r. 191 Buffalo eK: THE Boy BULLWHACKER. By Capt. A. B. dad U. 8. A. 192 Captain Kit. Lieut. H. D. Perry,U.S.N. 193 Captain Mask, Tere Lavy Roap-AGEnT; or, PaTENT-LEATHER JOE'S DerEat. By Warne. 194 Buffalo Bill’s Bet. By Captain Taylor. 95 Deadwood Dick’s Dream, Wheeler. 96 Shadowed; or, Bos Rockert’s FIGHT For LiFe. ey Charles Morris. 97 Little Grit, THE WiLD River, By Ingraham. 198 Arkansaw, THE WITH THE KNIFE. By T. C. Harbaugh. 199 Featherweight}; or, Taz Boy CHAmpPion OF THE Muskrneum. By Edward Willett. 200 ome Boy Bedouins. By Capt. Frederick tta ittaker. 201 The Black Hills Jekebars or, DrAp- woop Dick’s Warp. By Edward L. Wheeler. 202 Prospect Pete, or THE Boy BRicaps; or, THe Youne OurTLAw Hunters. By Oll Coomes. Whe Boy Pards.. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. Gold Plume, tHE Boy Bannir. ‘Ingraham. Deadwood Dick’s Doom, A Tale of Death Notch. By Edward L. Wheeler. Dark Paul, THe Tiger Kina. By C. Morris. Navajo Nick, THe Boy Gop Honrsr. A Tale of Arizona. By T. C. Beers. The Boy Hercules, By Oll mes. Fritz, tae Bounn-Boy Drerective. Wheeler. Faro Frank of High Pine; or, Danny DarkE’s Go-pown Parps. By W. R. Eyster. Crooked Cale, THE CALIBAN OF CELESTIAL Crry. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. Dashing Dave, THE Danny Dsrecrive. By Charles Morris. ritz to the Front. By E. L. Wheeler. Wolfgang, THE Rosser oF THE RHINE. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 215 Captein Bullet, tHe Rawer Kina. By T. C. Harbaugh. 216 Bison Bill, THe Price or THE Reins. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 217 Captain Crack-Shot, Tar Gm Bricanp; or, Gipsy Jack FRoM Jmitown. By Edward L. Wheeler. 218 Viger ‘Tom, THe Texan Terror. By Oll Coomes. 219 Despard, the Duelist; or, Taz Movun- TAIN VAMPIRES. By Philip S. Warne. 220 Tom Tanner, ScaLawaG AnD ScAPEGRACE. Charles Morris, 221 Sugar Coated Sam; or. Taz Back Gowns or Grm Guicu. By E. L. Wheeler. 222 Grit, the Bravo Sport, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 223 Ozark Alf, Kine or THE Mountain. By Edward Willett. - 224 eg iP Dick; or, Trapper Tom’s Castie. ‘oomes. 225 Sam Charcoal, the Premium Dar- ky. By Charles Morris. 226 Snoozer, THE Boy SHarp. By Edward L. Wheeler. 227 Dusky Darrell, Trapper; or, Toe Green RANGER OF THE YELLOWSTONE. By Edwin Emerson. Ready November 29th. 1 1 1 228 Little Wildfire. By Oll Coomes, Ready December 6th. 229 Crimson Kate, THz Gm Tramer. By Col. Prentiss In . Ready Dec. 18th. A new issue every week. The Half-Dime Library is for sale by all Newsdealers, five cents per copy, ——_ by mail on receipt of six cents each, BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.