Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 341) (1884 02 05)
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—— = h fafa alalataly/ sles. | I. ae 8 awl SEE WEL WM : ma _ Ose 1A TO db i { Aa | (ia! (Pa rN ; $2.50 a year. Entered at the Post O Copyright, 1884, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, February 5, 1884 ae eee doamee <aaphdhcsenandepessanpegeandyin-iasoaaenalickesticonaIDG EEE LV. Single Price, Vol. x ~ Worber: No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents. TONY THORNE, THE VAGABOND DETECTIVE; °° "yxzn Pow™ A ROGUE. | , } 4 ! | i i Bxz~ CHARLES MORRIS; AUTHOR OF “BOB ROCKETT, THE BANK RUNNER,” ‘‘ BOB ROCKETT, THE BOY DODGER,” “WILL WILDFIRE,” “DARK PAUL,” ETC., ET H alk |p Ow Ose ee ee sw ee, ! ea iH f f iil AH AAI | VST] anne ty} W) NG ~ + y 4 WL tice [] ! “uf mn if WY /5 Ys : SY , MSS eer —_ a —— ; ME WAS THE FACE OF THE DROWNED BOY! A GASP OF WILD TERROR CAME FROM THE LIPS OF THE STARTLED RUFFIAN. HB SLOWLE RETREATED. HOLDING THE LAMP IN ONE HAND AND THB PAPERS IN THE OTHER.
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~~ rw ~ } Ton Tony Thorne, THE VAGABOND DETECTIVE; OR, Running Down a Rogue. BY CHARLES MORRIS, AUTHOR oF “‘ RALPH READY,” “WILL WILD- FIRE,” ‘‘ BOB ROCKET,” ETC., ETC, CHAPTER I. A BIT OF FUN THAT DIDN'T WORK. THERE was a group of boys on the sidewalk of a retired street, ragged young vagabonds in most part, who were laughing and jeering as if they had come into some splendid piece of fun, It was easy to see the source of their amuse- ment. It consisted of two lads, who formed os center of the ring into which they had gath- ered. One of these was a stout young vagrant, with a red head and narrow, foxy eyes, dressed in a ragged, greasy suit that looked as if it had done duty for two generations before bim, The other boy was taller, but of slighter build. He was well and nestly dressed, and had a hand- some, aristocratic face, that made him look ut- terly out of place in that jeering crew. In fact, he seemed nervously anxious to go onward, from which he was hindered by the tormenting throng, who gathered around him like crows around a stray starling. ‘Hold your hosses, little Pop goes the Wea- sel!” cried the boy who confronted him. ‘‘ Got to guv an account.’ yerself fore you kin pass these head-quarters. What did you do with the penny I guv you hes ghne 34 to buy candy?” This gibe brought a roar of laughter from the group of vagrants. The well-dressed boy looked keenly at his an- tagonist, as if taking his measure, He then re- marked in cold, clear accents: ‘“You’re a funny fellow, I suppose. I’d laugh myself, if I could only see where the laugh comes in. If you’ve got any more smart speeches to make just get them off quick, for I have no time to wait.” ‘““What say, boys?’ asked the other. ‘‘ Shall we let him go without the password?” ‘* No—no!” came the general cry. ‘You hear that, honey? You’ve got to show your shin. Can’t let nobody pass ’cept he’s got a skinned heel.” There was not a shadow of fear in the face of the slight youth as he confronted his burly an- tagonist. ‘I tell you,” he exclaimed, ‘‘I must go on. Tam on an errand, and can’t waste time here, Get out of my way! This is a public street.” ‘““What will you do, sonny,if I don’t ab- squatulate?” “Nothing,” was the answer. ‘‘Except to walk bem 9 you, or walk over you.” A roar of laughter followed. **Lawsee! how the little cock does crow!” tried the young ruffian,. “ Maybe he’s got fight in him, See bere, greeny, bere’s my challenge.” He gave the tormented youth, who had grown suddenly pale, a fillip with his thumb on she nose. It was a mistaken insult. The slight lad, stung to fury by the base affront, flung out his right fist so sharply into the face of the ruffian that the latter, taken by surprise, was knocked aay to the ground! ' A lou fins, some of whom seemed ready to fall on the pale youth, who stood, heavily breathing, but undaunted, in their midst. “Guv it to the white-faced baby!” cried one. ah tuk Jimmy foul. Swipe his jaws for im! They were crowding in, with threatening looks, when one of them, a short, stout chap, the raggedest of the lot, sprung between them and their victim. “Git back!” he gear “Jimmy got sarved out right, If there’s goin’ to be a mill it’s got to be a square one! If one of you touches this bumbly-bee I’1l bu’st bis snout.’ He looked as if be meant it, and the ring moved back before his threatening aspect. “ Ain't goin’ to be no ten to one jobs, where Lam,” he declared. “If Jimmy Jones wants to stop boys on the street let him hoe his own tater-field.” oT, this time the prostrate Jimmy had scram- bled to his feet again, and was approaching his mist with a furious face. ae, y Thorne, the ery arose from the ring of ragamuf-: aes pe a 3. Vog “Shoot yer ugly pictur’, you tuk me foul!” he shouted. ‘I’m goin’ to curry you down now, my laddie, Square yerself.” The youth who had been so basely assailed might bave escaped during the momentary con- fusion of his antagonists, but he showed no de- sire to doso. Slight as he was he seemed grit to the backbove, and not one to back down be- fore the biggest ruffian of the lot, Yet it was very evident that he was out- weighed by his foe. They bad sparred less than a minute ere Jimmy got in a knock-down blow, that stretched the fair-faced youth in the dust. Yet ere the shouts of the ruffanly mob had ended he was up again, with blood on his face, but fire in his eyes, Again they met, and again, after a short sperring the smaller boy went down. “How do you like that, country?” crowed Jimmy. ‘Told you I was goin’ to curry you. Got enough, hey, rooster?” ‘‘No,” answered the resolute lad, on his feet again in an ins‘ant, ‘‘ And I won’t have enough till ve paid you for your insult. You may knock me down, but itis not in your bones to whip me,” He was very pale. Blood was streaming down his cheek. But the indignation on his face, and the resolute fire in his eyes, showed that he was yet far from being conquered. “Bully fer you!” cried the boy who had warned back the crowd, “Blame me if E ha ain’t got pluck. Go in, little one! Go in, Jim- x Pelt away, game-cocks! I'll see fair play! A third round, and down went the fair youth again. But this time he got in one or two sharp stingers on Jimmy’s face, that brought red spots to that young man’s countenance. Up came the lad again, with undaunted cour- age. But he was becoming a sorry spectacle. Covered with dust from head to foot, bis cap gone, his hair flying, his face disfigured with blood and dust, he had utterly lost his neat, spruce aspect, But he seemed one of the kind that have more fight in them the more they are wi and his eyes flashed fire as he again confronted his antagonist. Quiet as the street was where this aide! had taken place, several persons had now gathered about them. Among these was one gentleman- ly person, well-dressed, and with a sharp, busi- ness-like face, who stopped and looked keenly at the combatants. A cry of surprise and indig- nation came from his lips. ‘Is it possible?” he exclaimed. ‘‘ I would not have believed it! To think that you, Will Worth, whom I thought one of the quietest and most peaceful of boys, should get intoa street fight with a young ruffian! I am utterly aston- ished! Come here at once, sir!” The fair-faced boy looked around, with a em of nervous dread. But he answered roly. ‘““Excuse me, Mr. Wilson. I did not start this. He struck me first. I am not going to be insulted by a hound like this if you dis- charge me from your service, I am foing to whip the ruffian, sir, and I hope you'll let me fight it out.” r. Wilson hesitated for a moment, and then an odd expression came to his face. ‘Go ahead then, you_quarrelsome young rogue,” he exclaimed. ‘‘ You can have your fi Tht out, and then I'll bave it out with you When you’re afterward. It’s your turn now, done I'll take my turn,” ‘ There was a threatening tone in his voice that did not promise a favorable verdict to Will. But his blood was up now, and he was ready to sacrifice ten situations for revenge. He turned again to his antagonist, who hed been listening poe 4 to this conversation. One would have thought that he did not quite relish the job he had worked -up, and would have liked to be relieved. “Come on,” cried Will, with bitter energy. “Tam not whipped yet.” With a slight show of reluctance, Jimmy advanced, It is not always so pleasant to fight with those spring-steel chaps that won’t stay whipped, and don’t know when they have enough, In a moment more the two antagonists were at it again, sharply sparring. This time Will did not go down so quickly as before. He was alert and wary, and bis strong antagonist found that he had work before him. Several keen blows were got in on bis eyes and lips. Finally, with a fine rush, that broke down the defense of his antagonist, he got his fist in again between Will’s eyes, and toppled him over to the ground. The young savage rushed furiously forward, Seen eneeeeeeee — ___ eE———— ms and would have trampled with his heels on the fave of the prostrate boy, but for the ragged youth who had offered to see fair play. ‘*None of that!” he cried, springing for- ward. ‘‘ You're twice his weightnow. This has got to be a square fight. You ought to be ashamed of yourself for a big blowhard to want to use your heels.” Ina minute Will was on his feet again, and at his foe. He had received enough punishment to satisfy any ordinery boy, but he seemed to eed strength and spirit with each knock- own. Instead of growing wilder as the fight went on he grew more cool and wary. He avoided the blows of his foe, and got in his own with quick decision. Jimmy, on the other hand, was growing furious at the un- expected staying-power of his antagonist. He rushed forward,, striking heavily and wildly with both fists, and seeking to beat down Will’s defenses. Suddenly a keen punisher fell on his temple that considerably amazed him. He staggered back a step, and then sat down on the cobble-stones of the street. “Hurra!” yelled the young vagrants, who were turning in favor of the brave young gen- tlemen, who did not know when he was whipped. ‘“ That’s one in on Jimmy.” The prostrate boy rose, and rushed with the fury of a mad bull at his smaller foe, But Will had all hissenses about him. A quick step aside, a sharp blow under the ear, and an alert trip, and down went the ragamuffin face forward to the ground. The shouts grew louder. Jimmy rose more slowly, and did not seem quite so ready to come up to the scratch. ‘Have i Hee got enough?” asked Will disdain- fully. ‘‘ Are you ready to acknowledge that you are a coward and bully, that picks out lit- tle boys to practice on?” “No, blast you!” roared the young gamin, springing hotly forward. He was no match now for Will. Though the face of the latter was covered with blood and dirt, and his eyes half-closed, his heart was stouter than ever, and his coolness greater. He parried the heavy blows that were dealt at him, and dropped his right fist between Jimmy’s eyes, a square knock-down blow. The discomfited young fighter showed no signs of getting up again. He lay still, as if stunned by the shock. **T fancy he has got enough of the little cha he was going to curry down,” sneered Will. ‘Ts there any more of you want to try it on? I am in the humor now.” The boys sbrunk back, as if they did not like Will’s style of fighting. But the young gutter-snipe that had declared for fair play stepped forward. “T wouldn’t mind fighting you,” he said, ‘but tain’t fair to pile on too much. Guess ouw’ve done your share. And yee a young oss, clear through. I’ll lick the boy as says you ain’t, I like you, bully!” “Thank you,” said Will, turning away dis- dainfully. ‘“‘ If nobody else wants to stop me, 1 guess Pll go on.” ‘When you get all that dirt off your face, come up to the store. I want a little talk with you,” said Mr, Wilson coldly. ill looked quickly up, but said nothing. He turned away with lowered head. The fever of the fight was over, and he began to think seriously of the consequences. Mr. Wilson paused to speak for a moment te Will’s ragged backer, and then walked off in the opposite direction. CHAPTER II. A MYSTERY IN THE WIND. Ir was the next morning after the fight. In the private office of a large mercantile establisb- ment in the lower part of the city sat two men, busilv engaged in conversation. One of these was Mr. Wilson, the gentleman who had caught Will in bis fight the day before. The other was Mr, Brown. dis partner in the firm of “ Wilson & Brown, Linen Merchants.” ‘*T see no other way left,” said Mr. Wilson decidedly. ‘The fact is, old Dirk is as sharp as a razor, and our last move was a mistake. We have put him on his guard, and it will not be easy to fool the old coon.” “We might try Clarence. He has never seen him,” suggested Mr, Brown, ‘But I fear he is not shrewd enough.” Mr. Wilson shook his head decidedly. “‘ Well, then, why not send a detective? We can certainly find one too sharp for an Jersey coaster, like Dirk Dorgan.” Pai,
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this key ; Ww e _ ae ine : ree ae ea a ‘You don't know the rogue like I do, or you migit change your mind,” returned Mr. Wil- son, ‘‘Let any stranger try to scrape ac- quaintance with the old fellow, and he will be ou his guard at once. He is as suspicious as a rat, and he knows rey, well that there is some- thing in the wind. € must throw him off his guard, and I see only one iby “T don’t know,” said Mr, Brown doubtfully. “The savage old pirate would choke a spy with as little conscience as he would a cat, I am not willing to expose the boy to such danger.” ‘‘Oh! he is sharp enough. And be is as brave asa young lion, There is no give-upinhim. I bad proof of that yesterday; and this idea flashed at once into my head.” ‘‘Hush! Here he comes,” The door of the office was opened the next in- stant, and Will Worth walked into the room, He was clean and sprucely dressed as usual, All traces of the fray bad been brushed from his clothes, and washed, as far as possible, from his face, but the latter bore unmistakable marks of a hard battle. One eye was swollen and dis- colored, his upper lip was puffed out, and sev- eral strips of sticking-plaster covered various cuts on his face. Altogether Will’s handsome eee robes had lost much of its beauty in the ght. And he seemed dreadfully downcast. He hung his head with a look of shame, as he stood before his employers, in whose faces he saw only cold displeasure, They sat looking at him in silence for a moment, while poor Will seemed ready to sink through the floor. ‘Well, sir, I hope you feel better this morn- ing,” remarked Mr, Wilson, in tones that seemed to Will coldly scornful. ‘‘You had your fun yesterday. Itis, as [told you then, our turn to-day.” ‘Yes, sir,” answered Will, sadly but firmly. ‘Tam sorry, Mr. Wilson, but if I had it to do over again I am afraid I would have to whi that boy again. I can’t stand having it rubbe in like he did. Of course, I know I have dis- graced myself.” “Oh, you do? You acknowledge that? That’s clever of you. You would make a good cham- pion, Will; but that’s not what we hired you for.’ ‘“T know that,” replied Will, lifting his head with a proud fling, and throwing off his shame- faced look ‘‘I am very sorry, Mr. Wilson. But there are some things that can’t be helped. I think you will find everything right. I did every errand yesterday but that one to ‘Croll & Dawson, and I sent one of my friends to do that. That’s all. You'll find my book correct. There’s a week’s wages due me, but I don’t care for that, Here’s my key.” He laid a key on the table before them, and turned with a steady step toward the door. ‘The merchants cast at each other a look of sur- rise. aks Hold, there!” cried Mr. Brown, hastily. ‘¢ What do you mean? Where are you going?” “T don’t know. I am two old to sell news- papers, and I don’t suppose Ican get another situation. “You have been very good to me, but Icannot ask you for a recommendation after my behavior. But I guess I’ll get something to do. Good-by, sirs!” Will’s hand was on the handle of the door as he spoke, Before hecould open it, Mr, Wilson sprung from his chair and laid his hand firmly against the door. ** See here, little touch-and-go,” he exclaimed, ‘just suppose you give us a chance to get a -word in edgeways before you go off like a shot from ashovel. I fancy nobody has discharged I certainly have not. Have you, Mr. ‘‘ Not that I know of.” ‘‘Do you hear that? We haven’t discharged you;so you must be discharging us, What have ‘we done that you are not satisfied with?” The poor boy looked from one to the other with questioning eyes, into which a new hope began to rise. * But,” he stantmered. “But—I know you have been very kind to me. But you said I had my turn yompenday, and you would have yours to-day. know what that means. I didn’t ‘want to give you the trouble to discharge me.” “Why, you'proud little monkey, so you won’t ‘be whipped, and you won’t be discharged! You are bound to take the whip in your own hands, are you? See here, Will; you’ve had your say. ‘Now, listen to me awhile, To begin with, take ain, Will, with a quick flash of hope in his eyes, obeyed this order. sivrplin an. tg 4 ; ee 4 : ‘game — | Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective. | 3 done you needn’t be afraid of losing your posi- tion. From this week your salary will be in- creased one dollar per week.” Will looked with astounded eyes from one face to the other of his employers. They smiled at bis astonishment. ‘¢ But, sir,” he faltered, ‘‘I cannot take it, I have done nothing to deserveit. I hope you will insist on nothing of the kind, for I cannot take it.” ‘* Yes, you can, and you shall. You are a brave little fellow, and that is worth something. If you had let that boy whip you yesterday I would bave cut down your wages a dollar a week. As you had the pluck to go on and whip the young bully Iam gong bo give you the extra doilar. I like pluck, my boy. Now go to your work.” Will continued to look at his employers with staring eyes, as if he could not quite believe in this unexpected turn of fortune, Finally he let fall his cap and key, and sprung eagerly for- ward, grasping Mr. Wilson’s hand. ‘Oh, sir, he gratefully exclaimed, ‘‘I will never forger your kindness, And yours too, Mr. Brown. ou are both far kinder to me than I deserve. I expect I would have gone to ruin if you had thrown me on the street, for you know have no home. But only give me a chance and I will make myself a man. I know I have the stuff in me, if 1 only get the chance.” ‘*That you shall have,” answered his employ- ersina breath. ‘‘Goonas you have done, and never take an in-ult from a street vagabond,” ‘I don’t like fighting,” answered Will. ‘‘ And I won’t fight if I can get out of it, But if any of that gang insult me again I’m going to make them smart. All but the one fellow who took my part. [like him, He’s honorable and square up, if he is ragged and dirty. But can’t I have two or three days to get my face well? I’m ashamed to go out on the street with such a face as this,” ‘*Certainly, Will. You can have the rest of the week. But you will not have to go on the street again soon. We have some other work cut out for you which will need all your intel- ligence and courage. If you do it successfully it will make a man of you at once. If you fail you. will be no worse off than at present.” “New work for me?” cried Will, in surprise. ‘What is it, sir?” “Never mind now. You will soon learn, But it will take you away from the city and into new and rough scenes for a period, You will need all your wits and all your bravery. There, that will do for the present.. Go home now, and try to get your face into shape. Come here to-morrow at this bour, and we will let you know what you are to do,” Will walked from the office in a very differ- ent frame of mind from that with which he had entered it. He was then disconsolate enough to RP overboard and put an end to his troubles. Ie was now so fuil of joy that he was not quite sure whether he was standing on his head or his heels. This new and mysterious enterprise for which he had been chosen. What was it? What was he to do? A dozen conjectures ran through bis mind, all of which were dismissed as improbable. He was so preoccupied that he heeded not the jests and questions of the sales- men, who had noticed his disfigured face. ‘*Look a-here, young gentleman. Can’t you post me ’bout where I’ll find Wilson & Brown’s store? I’ve been huntin’ it all ’round here.— Hello! Shoot me, # ’tain’t the little chap w’ot licked Jimmy Jones!” Will had turned at the first words of this ad- dress, and now recognized the ragged boy who had seen fair play in the fight. His face lit up at the recognition, “Tt is you, isit?” he exclaimed. ‘‘I am glad to see you again. You’re a square boy if you do have a ragged coat, and if I ever catch any- body crowing over you, just count me: in. y name is Will Worth—what’s yours?” “Tony Thorne. The boys call me Thorny Tony.” “ Not a bad name,” answered Will. ‘‘ You'd do prime, if you had a clean face and decent clothes. This is Wilson.& Brown’s store. What do you want?” “I don’t know, lt’sthem wants me. That gentleman what guv you Jesse for fightin’ yes- terday axed me to stop bere to-day. Dunno what he wants, but I’m allers in fur snucks,” A look of surprise came upon Will’s face, What did this mean? Was it anything connect- ed with himself? He looked into the shrewd, freckled face of the boy before him with an idea of asking bim some further questions, but Now go back to your work. As long as} he checked this intention, and pointed to the you continue to do as well as you have always door from which he bad just emerged. “This is the stere. You will find Mr, Wilson in the cffice now.” Will turned away deeply perplexed, while Tony entered the store with an independent step. The merchants were still in their private office engaged in conversation, when the door was opened without the ceremony of knocking, and Tony Thorne walked with an easy air into the room, ‘*- You axed me to come,” he said apologetic- ally to Mr. Wilson, as he coolly seated himself. “Here Tam,” The merchants checked their conversation, and looked in surprise at their unsavory vis- itor. “Ob!” exclaimed Mr. Wilson; ‘‘I know you now. You are the boy I spoke to at the fight, yesterday.” “*Jist so. Dunno what you want with me, but ee! time ain’t much took up, so I thought I'd toddle up this way.” “You go in for air lay in a fight, I see,” remarked Mr, Wilson, looking at him curi- ian “You bet Ido! I'd licked that whole crowd *fore I'd let’em heap on that plucky little feller. That’s my style.” The merchant sat looking at him for some moments, as if measuring his caliber. . But this failed to discompose Tony, who sat as easy as an old shoe. Time was of no consequence to him. ‘‘Answer me now,” began Mr. Wilson. “* How do you make a living?” ‘Sometimes one way, and sometimes an- other,” answered the ragamuffin, ‘‘And sometimes I don’t make it no way. Then I sponge on my daddy. When I make a stake he sponges on me; so we're square.” ‘* You are a sharpand active-looking fellow. Would not you like a good paying job?” “That depends, I manage to scrub through. ’Tain’t every job I'd take up.” ‘*This you will find a profitable one. It will take you from the city, and will call for the use of all your wits, There is po hard work about it, but it will be more of a holiday than a task. You may, however, have some adventure, and possibly may go through some danger. But you look as if you would not be afraid.” “Don’t calk'late I will,” answered Tony easi- ly. ‘* Tell you what, that’s just the kind ofa job I’m cut out for, if it’s honest, and this is the fust time it ever turned up. Tl jist snatch on toit likea monkey would snatch a peanut. Peg it out. I’m on hand,” During the next hour the merchants continued closeted with their ragged visitor, much tothe surprise of their clerks, who had taken Tony for an impudent beggar. CHAPTER III. A RUN ACROSS THE JERSIES, A WEEK has passed since the date of the con- ference of the two boys with Messrs. Wilson & Brown. It has been anything but an idle week with them, for aye! have been kept busy with preparations for their mysterious enterprise, and with directions how they are to act, “You understand now,” said Mr, Wilson, as a farewell warning. ‘‘Of course we can only lay out for you a general plan, You must use your own wits for the remainder. Nobody can tell beforehand what circumstances may arise; and you will need to be wide-awake for every- thing. Keep to your general plan whatever may happen.” ‘“Why don’t you arrest this man, and make him tell before the court?’ queried Will. “There is-an old proverb, my boy, that you can bring a horse up to the rack but you can’t make him eat,” answered Mr. Wilson, with a laugh. ‘It is that way with Dirk Dorgan. If he don’t choose to speak be won’t speak for all the courts inthe land. If we want the truth we must cheat it out of him, Nobody can squeeze it out of him.” “‘Jist you bet we're the larks as Il do that,” returned Tony Thorne, with a look of assur- ance, ‘‘ We’re a-goin’ to be saddled by no old water-dog.” “Don't be too confident,” warned the mer- chant. “If you make a false move he will see through 7s as easy as you would see through a pane of glass, And now good-by, and good- luck. Here is the train.” They were soon rolling over the broad level of New Jersey in a fast-flying train, through desolate reaches of pine forest, and over broad stretches of barren sands, toward the distant coast, and the far-off tumbling ocean, As they proceed on their journey we must give a little closer attention to the two boys, for
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7m) A Fe a . Tony Th < ei ts iano patie. » lei re prensa PORT no at orne, the Vagabond Detective. - they are considerably changed since we last made their acquaintance. Will Worth has changed his quiet business suit, for a tasty, fashionable riz, that gives him something of the aspect of a young dandy. He wears a rather loud cravat, with a diamond in, and a diamond ring flashes on his finger. e also sports a watch, with a showy chain, and altogether seems a young gentleman of wealth and leisure. Thorny Tony is equally transformed, His face is as clean as if it had been scrubbed with a rulling-pin, and his rags have been replaced with a neat, well-made suit, of plain, but ser- viceable material. He sports no jewelry like Will, and there has been no effort to make a gentleman of him. That would have been im- ssible, He looks rather like a poor boy, who as been cared for by careful parents, “My, wouldn’t the fellows stare if they seen me now!” laughed Tony, ashe looked at himself with great satisfaction. Will could but enjoy the new pride of his companion. ** You don’t know what a spry-looking fellow ou are,” he remarked, with a look of admira- jon. ‘Your new clothes have made another boy of you. I think we are both changed.” “You bet!” answered Tony. ‘* You’re an out- and out sport; a reg’lar little dude. My eyes, won't you play hob with the gals? You've got to guv up fightin’. Nobby young gentlemen, like you, don’t fight.” “Tf hope they will leave me alone then. I don’t want to fight. But what if they come crowding on me?” “On! you leave that to me, I'll scrub ’em. There’s nothin’ I like better nor a good rough- and-tumble.” “That will never do,” answered Will decid- edly. ‘‘Weare not to know one another, re- member that. And if we come together there’s got to be bad blood between us. Those are the orders, you know.” Tony looked at him in momentary surprise, and then burst into a loud laugh. “That's so! I forgot.” he acknowledged. “ It’s arum go, anyhow. Don’t you speak cross to me down yonder, for I don’t take in no stuck- up dudes. Jist as leave pickle your pretty face as look at you.” Will echoed Tony’s laugh. “Tf you try it on I'll serve you out as I dia Jimmy Jones,” he answered. ‘‘I am bound to stand up for the rights of the aristocracy.” On and on rolled the train, through fields and woods, and t wide, slimy swamps, that seem- ed to be the haunts of fevers. Here and there appeared a village, and some well-cultivated farms; but the most of the journey was through a cedar wilderness. Miles and miles of such a country were left behind them, They continued to talk at inter- vals; and at ether intervals contented them- selves with gazing out of the car windows. The warm breath of summer was in the air, and everything was clothed in its greenest. verdure, so far as the sandy soil permitted. At length the young travelers broke into another line of conversation, which we must repeat, since it is of some interest to our readers. ‘¢ You ought to see my dad!” exclaimed Tony. “Tell you what, he’s a hoss. He’s terrible big, and pasa | asa buffalo, Why, he used to hold me straight out with one hand, and spank me with t’other. My, couldn’t he slap!” “Don’t he work?” asked Will, thinking of Tonv’s disreputable appearance, ‘Yes; when he can’t git no whisky. He’s too fond of his bitters, that’s the trouble.” “*T hope you don’t touch it?” “Not much!” and Tony set his lips firmly. ‘Seen too much of it. Nobody but a fool med- dles with a dog arter he’s seen how it kin bite. JTain’t that sort of a fool, nary time. What kind of a dad have you got? Ibet he couldn’t lick mine.” ‘‘T have none,” answered Will sadly. “I have neither father nor mother; never had.” ‘“*Never had? Whew! That's a lark!” ‘¢ Never to know, 1 mean. They were both dead before I knew anything. I don’t know any more about them than for their names, they were r people, and I was knocked cbout when I was young.” “Tg that so?’ asked Tony, with great interest. “Tye been knocked about, too, though not the game way. Tell me all about it; dunno but it’d been. better for me, for I ain’t had no scroughin’ gort of a good time.” “The first I remember,” answered Will thoughtfully, ‘I was living with an old woman away down town. Old Mother Luke, the folks weed tocallher. I was a tiny little tot then— ” not much bigger than a horse-chestnut. But she made me go out and beg for cold scraps with a basket. Whenl got bigger 1 had to learn to play the fiddle, and go out and play for pennies.” “That must ba’ been nice! Can youplay yet?’ “Oh yes-~-a little. But it wasn’t so very nice, for the old woman used to beat me dread- fully if I didn’t bring enough in.” ‘She did?’ exclaimed Tony, his eyes snap- ping. ‘‘And she wasn’t your mother, neither? I'd never stood that, nohow. I’d run away.” ‘* So did I,” answered Will. ‘‘She threw up to me one day that I was only a stray, and that my parents were not what they ought to be. That stirred up my blood, and when I went out that day I didn’t come back again.” “Bully for you! But what did you dof” “ All sorts of things. I slept anywhere that I could get a chance to snuggle, and I eat any- thing, and did all kinds of jobs. Sometimes, when I got very bad off, I played the fiddle and that always paid, for they called mea g player.” “Why didn’t you stick to it, then!” *< Because I was afraid of Mother Luke, who was always looking for me, She saw mo some times, too, and I had torun like a killdeer.” “But you could have gone into the country, or to some other town?” “T had another reason for not playing,” re- joined Will. ‘It was too much like begging, and I didn’t want to grow upa beggar. I al- ways wanted to be respectable, and to do hon- est work.” Tony looked at his companion with some ad- miration. “That didn’t trouble this chicken,” he re- marked. “1 allers dug in for a good time. Had it, too, you bet! Kind of liked ragged clothes, for I didn’t git licked fur tearin’ them. And I got so used to bein’ pounded by the boys that I didn’t mind dad’s lickin’s one bit. I tell you, I’ve had it jolly.” Will shook his head doubtfully. “There’s two kinds of lives, Tony; one for sport, and one for duty. The last is my kind and I think it pays best in the long run, But t may as well finish. I grew vp, as I said, in all sorts of ways. I tried everything, holding horses, blacking shoes, and prepe. J i I’ve had sanut stands and apple baskets, Then I carried or a market-man for a good while. He took me in bis family, after a while, and I’m living with him now.’ “ Good for him! What's his name?’ “Adam Sparks. He has a buckster stand in Spring Garden Market. He was ever so good to me, he and his wife. I had to work hard, but they sent me to night-school, and gave me an education.” “ And got you in Wilson & Brown’s store?” “Oh, no!” I got that position myself. I thought it was time I was learning somethin better than carrying a market-basket. So looked around for a place, and got one. I’ve been there now for near three years.” “Do you like it?” “T guessI do! They are ever sokind. And I don’t mind the work one bit.” ‘It’s queer,” answered Tony, thoughtfully. “‘T don’t think I’d like it, I want room round me, and don’t like nobody to tell me what I’m to do, Guess I’m born for a street rat. Somehow a situation is like a cage that they fasten a bird in, Calk’late I’m a wild bird, ayn’t git fed as nice, but I’ve got more room to stretch my bi ill shook his head with a knowing smile. “It won't do, Tony. Everybody in_ this world is iv a cage, and can’t get out of it. Some may fly a little further than others, but they are sure to hit against the bars before they go far. Better have a little cage, well furnished, than a big empty one.” : ‘ ‘“‘ Maybe so,” answered Tony, with a meaning shrug. ‘‘ Guess my dad’s one of the bars of my cage, and I plug up ag’in’ him pretty often. Anyhow these good ohithiag don’t feel quite right. I ain’t half as independent in ’emas in my old rags. But let’s drop all that. How "bout Mother Luke? Seen her since?” “Yes. I don’t care for her now. And [ don’t believe she knows me. She has got to be a very old woman that goes dragging along the streets till I can’t belp being sorry for her.” ““There’s no use bein’ sorry fur that kind,” declared Tony. ‘‘ You can’t help them. They’re past ony They’d only be miserable if you ut ’em ina palace. Let ’em alone and they’re appy. I know it, cause I’ve been as happy as a king with, a ragged coat and a crust picked out 0’ the gutter; and I’m half miserable now in this decent rig, and a pocket full of cash.” might look at some new species of animal. He hardly knew what to make of him. ‘‘ What’s that queer smell in the air?” he at. length asked, “It smells just like a heap of oysters.” ‘It’s the salty ocean,” answered Tony, with a look of superior wisdom, ‘ This ain’t the first. time I’ve been down here to smell the salt seas. Look out here. Do you see that blue line away off yonder, where the sky comes down?” ‘Well, that’s the Atlantic ocean. That’s the big duck-pond that stretches out forever and ever, thousands and thousands of miles, with. the sharks and the whales swimming under- neath, and men steaming and sailing overhead, Lawsee! you bet I don’t peg out afore I git over it, to see t’other side.” Will was silent, with his eyes fixed with strange sensations on the distant liquid line. That was the ocean—the mighty, the grand? His heart swelled with new emotions as he look- ed upon it, and the great earth seemed to grow tenfold greater at this first vision of the sublime seas, “These are the salt marshes which we’re runnin’ over now,” explained Tony. ‘ And yonder’s the town where we're to land. Guess we'd best split jist here. We're strangers from this on. Don’t forget that.” “Very true,” answered Will. ‘Our work begins now. We must let nothing stand be- tween.” “Tm goin’ to take that empty seat. Don’t you look cross-ways at me, for I’m down on ristocrats.” Will laughed as Tony moved away from him to another part of the car. Five minutes after, the train rolled into the station at the seaside village of Micmac, and came slowly to a dead halt. CHAPTER IV. A BOY’S BOLD CHALLENGE. THE Seaside House was the ae ee hotel of: Micmac. The little town had long vegetated as a fishing village, but since the annual run of summer visitors to the sea-shore it had got its. nd hotel, and its rows of boarding cottages, aes accommodation of the pleasure-seekers from the cities. These stood in the new town, on the south side of the narrow river, that there made its: way tothe sea, On the north side was the old town, a series of rattle-down frame shanties, which looked across in sturdy independence at the spruce, new habitations beyond the stream, The two boys had separated on reaching the town. Will had taken a room at the hotel, where he played the part of a young gentle- man of wealth and leisure. It was late in the season, and most of the guests had departed, but some yet remained, taking advantage of the pleasant September weather. Thorny Tony on the contrary, bad gone to live: with his ¢nole in the old town, beyoud the stream. It is true that this uncle was manvfac- tured for the occasion, out of a shrewd old fisherman, who would have accepted fifty nephews, on the ig my of Mr. Wilson’s cash. Just why the boy was saddled on him he did not know, and did not take the trouble to ask. He was well paid for taking bim in, and keeping his secret, and that was enough for old Jake Dumps. If he had been asked to ca)} Old Nick his grandfather, or Beelzebub bis grandson, on the same terms, he would not bave hesitated for an instant, and would have explained the relationship to everybody's satisfaction. Tony had taken the role of a poor boy, that had to work for his living, and he at once | tegan to assist old Jake in his summer business of taking out fishing parties of visitors. The harum-scarum boy was delighted with this vocation, and took hold of it in a way that charmed the old waterman. ‘Blame my eyes,” he growled to one of his associates, ‘if the boy ain’t got a peck o’ brains in his headpan. It’s my poor sister Lizy’s son, Joe, as pegged out last June. The lad’s city born, but he’s got grit. Thought I’d have my hands full: but, rd! he'll be a help, instead of a bother.” Will, on the other band, assumed a very dif- ferent role. He was down for sport, not for work, and put on a multitude of airs as he lounged about, switching his tasty cane, with its ivory dog’s-head, and making rapid acquaint- ance with the young gemtlemen and la the place. He ha Shines himself with a pair of eye-glasses, which he wore in 8. Will looked at his odd companion as one sai ies of
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btm t. fashion that completed bis air of adude. Folks looked at him with secret smiles, as they saw the young swell proudly strutting around. ‘What an untrimmed little peacock,” mut- tered one old merchant, with a sneering laugh. ‘Tf a boy of mine was to put on such airs, han me if I wouldn’t dust his coat for him till eured him of all such tomfoolery. Ought to be put in a glass cage, and shown around at ten cents ahead. That’s about all he’s fit for.” But such ill-natured remarks little troubled Master Will, who played his part to admira- tion. He seemed to bave plenty of money, and abundance of clothes, and on a fine afternoon, several days after his arrival, found himself in the old town, dressed in a tasty suit of blue flannel, in readiness for a fishing excursion. ‘‘] hope there’s no danger of getting sea-sick,” he said, playing carelessly with hiscane. ‘I am not used to the salt water, you know.” “It’s as quiet as a baby on the inlet,” an- swered the fisherman addressed. ‘And I’ve got the stanchest boat on the island. Don’t you have a ghost of afear. What’s more, I allers take a chunk of salt pork along, to cure them as iis squeamish.” ‘Salt pork! Oh, mercy!” exclaimed Will. “I never could abide salt pork.” “ Guv the babby some melasses taffy,” growl- ed another man who was standing alongside, in a voice like the grumble of a nor’wester. ‘‘ And swipe him down with a hunk of oakum. Blow me for a pirate, if I wouldn’t like to make a spread-eagle of the little chiny doll!” He walked away with a look of utter disgust, Will gazed at him. He was a short, squat fig- ure, with a great width of shoulder, and was dressed in a suit of dreadnaught, well covered with oil and fish-scales. His face was barsh and rugged, with some- thing of reckless ferocity in its expression. But the small, twinkling eyes told a different story; they expressed sharpness and cunning. He seemed to be about fifty years of age, and was as weather-beaten as if he had been ex- posed to the sea-weather for his whole life. ‘‘Who is this complimentary gentleman?” asked Will, in a tone loud enough to reach the ears of the rude waterman. ‘‘l am not aware that I asked him any questions.” ‘‘ Hush!” warned the fisherman, in a cautious tone, ‘ That’s Dirk Dorgan. You’d best keep clear of bim, my young sprout, Just shut your ears when Dirk’s about, if you want to keep out of trouble.” ‘Dirk Dorgan,” answered Will, in a loud, defiant tone, but with a secret sense of satisfac- tion. ‘He can call bimself Dick Devilsmouth, for all it troubles me, and save his breath to cool his porridge. When I want his slack, Pil aask for it.” This defiant speech reached the ears for which it was intended, Dirk turned quickly back, with a flashing eye and lowering counte- mance, ““Do you know who you are talkin’ to, Hop- o-my-thumb?” he asked, in a tone of sup- pressed thunder. ‘You young jackanapes, do you think to come down here and lord it over old salts that’s weathered more gales than you’ve got dollars? Shoot yer puny picture, if you come buzzin’ round me [ll take you up be- tween my finger and thumb, and make you sing -wuss than a swamp musketeer.” The fishermen, who knew Dirk’s furious tem- per, drew back a step at this explusion. Tbe angry giant lowered over Will, as if he would crush him wlth his weight. Yet the boy, as we know, had plenty of courage, and was not the one to cower before a blustering bully. He stood erect, without yielding a step, and looked with a steady eye into Dirk’s gloomy face, while he switched bis cane as carelessly as if he had been engaged in a pleasant conversation. “How do you sell ground around here, by the square foot?” asked Will, with provoking ease. ‘I should judge, by the way you lord it, that you own the whole country. Every cock ean Crow on his own dunghill, they say, and Td like to buy enough from you to make mea dunghill to crow on.” ‘ : This bold defiance seemed to doubly infuriate the angry waterman. Heclosed his brawny fist, that looked big enough to annihilate Will with a blow, while his bushy brows contracted with age. Sor” he roared, with the growl of a hurri- ‘cane, ‘ you’re tryin’ to gibe me, are you? I’m afeard to hit you, for fear ’'d smash you like I woulda fly. But, shiver my timbers, if I don’t duck some of the sauce out of you.” He extended bis band and grasped Will’s eollar with a firm grip. The boy made no ef- ‘ort to escape, and not a shade of dread passed fony Thorne, the Vagabond MO over his countenance as he continued to face his burly opponent. ‘All right,” answered Will. ‘‘ You are the strongest. Go ahead; I won’t resist. It’s your turn’now,so make the most of it. After you are done, we'll have this little talk out in another fashion.” ‘* What do you mean?” cried Dirk, loosing his hold in astonishment at the boy’s unflinching boldness. ‘‘Is the little city canary-bird — to threaten me? Blast me, if that ain’t a joke! He laughed with a sound like the sawing of tim- ber. ‘‘Come, you want to go out a-fishing. Step into my boat; I’ll give you a lesson in the bizness,” ‘‘l’m your man,” answered Will promptly. ‘* Fetch out your boat.” ** You'll go with me?” queried Dirk, in sur- rise. “You bet I will! I’m only a boy, but when I say a thing, there’s no back-down in me,” Dirk looked him over from head to foot with a curious gaze. He then turned away with a low whistle of surprise. ‘*Stick to it, my game-cock,” he growled. ‘*You’ve guy yer word, and go you shall.” “Go I will, if you’re not afraid to take me,” answered the boy, with a tantalizing assur- ance, Dirk seemed on the point of returning some angry retort. Buta change passed over his face, and he turned and walked away without a word. The fishermen around, who had kept silent, though with uneasy looks, during this conversa- tion, now hastened to warn Will of the danger he was running. **Don’t think of going with him,” warned one. ‘ He’s up to some trickery. I know that look of his. You’d best take a set over the river before he comes back.” “Jump into my boat!” cried another. “ Dirk’s a reckless rogue, and meaus you harm. Jump in, and [’ll row you over.” ‘*Not much!” answered Will decidedly. ‘‘If he’s ready to take me, I’m ready to go. I never backed down from fear yet, and I don’t think Pll begin now.” : ‘*But you don’t know this man, you foolish little chap. He’s a terror, I tell you, and I baven’t seen him in such a rage for a year. Dirk’s an old wrecker and pirate, they say. He’s ae aes toflinging you overboard and towing you ashore at the stern of bis boat.” ‘“T'll take the chances,” answered Will, switch- ing his leg easily witb his flexible cane. ‘I’m pan, a boy, and ain’t expected to know much, But I’ve always heard that the way to tame a tiger is to keep your eye on it, and show no weak blood. I’m going to play that game with this tiger, and I wager that I bring him back tame,’ The grizzled men looked with surprise on this bold boy, and shook their heads doubtfully. His courage seemed to them the foolish reckless- ness of youth, yet they could not belp admiring it. A man of ripe judgment and discretion would scaresly have taken such an unnecessary risk, but there is no limit to the daring of a y. While they continued to converse Dirk’s boat came arounda bend of the river, moving on- ward rapidly under his long, sinewy strokes. The water curled in foam before it as it came dashing on. ‘*Once more,” said the first spokesman, ** You had better take warning.” “Tam going with him,” answered Will de- cidedly. “I intend to let him see Lam not afraid of him. He doesn’t expect to see me here wheri he returns, but he will see me.” Evidently Will was right, for there was a look of surprise in Dirk’s eyes as he beheld the boy waiting for him on the river-bank, in the same easy, graceful attitude. At this moment two other persons walked up to the group. One of these was a wrinkled, grizzled old waterman, who looked as if the sturms of seventy winters bad blown upon his countenance. The other was a boy of about Will’s age, a short, stout, open-faced youth, dressed in the rough babiliments of a fisherman, It was Jake po and his new nephew, transformed already into a son of the sea in ap- pearance. The two boys looked at each other, without a sign of recognition in their eyes. Tony cast a disdainful glance over Will’s tasty flannel suit, and then looked down with satis- faction at his own rough but serviceable dress. ‘*Lawsee, what a swell!” he muttered, in the hearing of the fisherman. ‘You're a well-built sort of a chap,” re- marked Will careless!y.. ‘Do you go out boat- ing? Detective. ““You bet. Boatin’, gunnin’, fishin’, anything you want.” “Very good. Ill hire you some day for @ round, Just now I’ve hired this old salt.” He pointed to Dirk, who had walked up after landing his boat. ‘* Hired me, boy?’ he harshly asked. “Yes, I expect to pay for my sport. Are you ready?” ‘*All ready. Step in. It you don’t like the for it. sport, you needn’t pa “I won’t,” answered Will, as he sprung inte the boat, Dirk followed him, with a queer look on his bronzed features. A few strokes of the oa and the boat darted out into the river an headed for the sea. The fishermen on the shore continued looking and perely conversing, in great doubt if they had been wise to permit the reckless boy to go out with the hardened old rufflan. After a few minutes the group broke up Tony and bis new-found uncle taking boat, an rowing out into the stream. CHAPTER V. WILL PUTS HIS HEAD IN THE LION’S MOUTH. THE two boats moved down the river at no great distance apart, that containing Thorny Tony and his ready-made uncle in the rear of that wbich held Will and Dirk. The latter looked back with a scowling glance at the following boat, as if with the idea that it was in pursuit of him. With his fierce temper and giant strength few boatmen of the vicinity would have ventured to play the spy on his movements. His lip curled as he recog- nized Jake Dumps. ‘No fear o’ him,” he muttered. ‘‘The sly old rat is got sense enough to tend to his own biz’ ness. e knows which side his bread’s but- tered.” Under his srong, strokes the boat shot rapid- ly forward, soon leaving the river and darting out into the open sea. ere a fresh wind met them, that seemed strengthening every minute. The surf broke heavily over the bar that lay off the river’s mouth, and filled the air with that monotonous voice of the ocean, that never ceases to moan and roar. They turned up the coast, through the quiet water inside the bar, where the wild roll outside was turned into an uneasy heave. ‘You kin get seasick now, if you hanker arter it,” growled Dirk, as the boattossed unpleasant- ly. ‘Only Iain’t got no salt-pork like old Toby promised you.” it on then,” Will pleas- ‘*T reckon I won’t t antly answered from his seat at the tiller. *‘ I’ve no notion of spoiling my sport by any such non- sense,” As they rowed on Jake Dumps fell further be- hind, as if be bad no thought of pursuit. In half an hour he vanished from sight in the windings of the inlet channel which they had entered. A long island here cut off the breakers, and left a broad stream of quiet water between it and the mainland, the favorite fishing-grounds of the settlement. Jake’s boat rowed slowly on into the mouth of theinlet. The old fisherman shook bis griz zled head, as he twisted around on his seat to gaze forward, “*T don’t like this bigness none too well,” be dubiously remarked. ‘‘ The hoy is a risky little jackdaw to trust hisself with Dirk arter flingin’ sass in that rough chap’s face. Dirk dont keer a fig for the law when he’s mad; and he’s got the devil inside his skin as big as a barn-door.” **T guess he won’t eat nobody alive without salt,” returned Tony. ‘The little swell ain’t no slouch, you kin see that in his eyes. Who is this terror, as is got all the folks hereaways on their knees afore him? Hope he don’t teks no bite at me. I bet you, if he does, that I'll lay crossways in his throat. Jist peg out all about him.’ ‘**Tain’t much anybody knows,” answered the old man, as be continued to ply bis oars. ‘* He’s been livin’ on this coast nigh on to twenty year, and be ain’t made a friend in all that time. A ’bout bis bizness, there ain’t an oyster keeps his shells sbet tighter.” ‘‘But you know something ’bout him,” per- sisted Tony. ‘‘He talks a good deal, by, I’ve had some chats with him myself. Nobody can’t talk fur twenty year without lettin’ some- ett Precio little. His old lif rs ous little, is 0 ife is u and laid away somewhere out of Sieh Boe somedever, there’s some p’ints as folks think they know. Some on ’um says as Dirk was a reg’lar pirate in his young days. But that is all blather. Nobody knows naught rboub JINA
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é ‘6 ' -—_ iP Mas te Pot ex Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective. it. There’s others says as he was a wrecker, and has lured more nor one ship ashore with false lights. says;what I don’t know.” ‘““ A wrecker?” repeated Tony, thoughifully. “Is that since he came on this coast?” “Why he’s blamed fer the barque, Emma, as ome eshore on the island sands ’bout seventeen _ ay ago. I won’t say what’s in it, ‘cause I on’t know. There was only one man come ashore alive, and be told a queer story ’bout false lights. There was suspicion ’bout Dirk, ‘but nobody couldn’t nail it on him.” ‘Only cone man?’ echoed Tony. * And a baby. He brung a baby ashore, alive. But it cisappeared while he was in a swoon. Where it went to the Lord knows. Only Dirk hisself was out o’ sight fur two weeks | arter.” ‘““Ah!” exclaimed Tony, greatly interested. | '€ And basn’t nothin’ turned up ’bout that there baby since?” ‘‘Nota hair. There’s a suspicion allers hung to Dirk. He’s had strange visitors occasional, and gone away on long journeys. And one night, when he’d took too much, I heered him myself ,swearin’ fearful ’bout some man as he was bein’ revenged on. But he’s a dark and a furious chap, and I wouldn’t like to be the one to say baby to him.” He rowed on silently for several minutes, seem- ingly lost in deep reflection. his remarks, as if communing with himself, ‘“‘There’s been folks down here a many a time since then, pokin’ ’round ’bout that baby. And more nor one’s tried Lo play sharp on Dirk. But 'tweren’t never no use. You mought as well try to squeeze; honey outer an oak tree as make him sell his secrets. °Tain’t three months since a gentleman from the city was down, as bad a fearful quarrel with Dirk. I know it, fur I happened to catch a few words, The ruffian huffed him, and told hina to his face that he had the squeeze on him, and was goin’ to keep it. He’s an awful man, I tell you, and I hope that little ninny won’t git inter trouble by stirrin’ him up. I'd jist as soon wake up a hornets’ nest with a pine switch. Guess we’d best fling in our lines here fur a try, Tony. Ther’s promise o’ fish.” ‘‘ Best row on to where we nipped ’em so nat yesterday,” answered Tony. ‘‘Tve a whim they’ll bite spryer ther .” ‘Ther’ it is ag’in. The boys is wiser than their granddaddies.. Allright. I'll let you see who knows best, the old rooster or the young Yun.” He rowed on, with a grim smile of sarcasm. But we must leave them and return to the other boat, which had continued its course until it was a mile or two ahead. Many fisher- men had been passed, all of them returning, and one of them had called out to Dirk. “Best not stay too late. Tuere’s an ugly cloud rising in the eastern cffing. There'll be a fresh gale by night, and the surf’s rolling heavy. You may fiod trouble in making ,the river.” “Thank ye for nothin’,” growled Dirk. “ Of course I’m a greenhorn, and dunno what I’m about. But lain’t never been the man yet toup and run from a capful of wind.” The other rowed on, a little angry at the ungracious reception of his well-meant warning. Shortly after they reached the desired fishing- grounds, and got in their lines. The fish seemed plentiful and bit readily, and it was not long ere they began to show some results of their sport in the scaly prey that lined the bottom of | t e boat. “This is fine sport,” said Will gayly, as he took a large fish from his hook and rebaited it. “T never saw better fishing.” He might have safely said that he had never seen any fisbing at all. ‘* Fine fun, is it?’ queried Dirk. “ It’s motbin’ to the fun that Il) show you arter a while. You'll catch somethin’ worth talkin’ about afore you’ve done your day’s sport.” There was a secret meaning in his tone that made Will look up quickly into his dark face. He saw there only a sarcastic smile of threaten- ing aspect, though it revealed nothing. Bat the boy was soon too deeply interested in his sport to heed such mysterious indications, The fish bit freely, and every few minutes he added one to the heap, while Dirk caught them still more rapidly. “They bite well in stcrmy weather,” remark- ed Dirk. “What do you call these fish?” ‘Well, the most on ’em is weakfisb. That chap over there is a sea-trout, and this little fel- jow is a bass.” He then continued | So far’s I’m consarned, I never | ‘And the one I’ve got on my hook now?” asked Will, as he brought up a heavy fish that took all his strength to land. “Tt’s a sbeepshead!” exclaimed Dirk, with some enthusiasm, as he grasped the flapping fish. ‘* Well dove, boy. That’s one of the gentleman fisb of the waters. It’s a wonder you fancy sports would ever be satisfied with less.” oe er A catch what comes to my hook,” answered Will, with easy assurance; ‘big fish | or little. I’m after a big fish now, but I’m ready to take whatever bites.” ‘* And I’m arter a little fish,” grumbled Dirk, as he bent bis dubious face over the game; ‘‘ and my fish has hooked bisself a’ready. Fish o’ that sort are born fools, you know.” Will cast an uneasy glance at his companion. Just what he meant was not evident, but the heedless boy began to wish that he had not been so hasty in putting himself in his power. The afternoon was now moving rapidly on | | remarked one. toward night. The sun was well down in the west, and as it sunk the wind strengthened, It ruffled the water before it, and struck with a shivering chill upon the bodies of the fisher- ce It |} men. “* Hadn’t we better return?” asked Will. will be night in an hour more,” ‘‘ Guess mebbe we had.” Dirk seized the oars, and began to row onward. ‘¢ But you are going in the wrong direction.” ‘*Reckon not. You’re down here to l’arn somethin’, Guess I’ll take youin hand, and guv you a lesson.” “What do you mean?” asked Will, alarmed and indignant. “Oh, nothin’ much. Let me tell you one | thing, thougb. When you want to play the little game o’ puttin’ your head in the lion’s mouth, you oughtn’t to stir up the lion first.” ‘““You mean to do me some harm, then? Is that it?” Oh, no! innercent head. ’ristercatic enough for a nice gentleman like yer I wouldn’t scrape a hair o’ yer I lordship. I won’t ax you to stay in it.” ‘Then you do intend some violence?’ re- marked Will, with recovered coolness. ‘‘ Very well, sir. I was willing to be yourfriend. You are determined that I shall be yourenemy. I accept the decision. You can have your turn, but mine will be sure to come.” ‘“‘How the little cock does crow,” returned Dirk, with pretended admiration. “I’m ralely afeared to keep you aboard. My boat’s too crank fur sich a lively crower. But hurt you? Mercy, no! Not fur the world.” He dropped the oars as he spoke. The boat was close on to a little low grassy island, which lay in the middle of the channel, bere very wide. Ina minute more the bow grounded on the island shore. “T hope it won’t hurt yer delicate feelin’s if I request you to step ashore. It’s a pretty little island, and you kin have it all to yerself. There'll be nothin’ to trouble ye, ’cept the mo- skeeters; and they kin sing ye to sleep.” ‘*T shall do nothing of the kind,” cried Will. “Take me back to the town, or you shall be sorry for it.” “‘T ain’t been sorry fur anything fur such a time, that I won't mind tryin’ it on. Guess it’ll feel good. Come, now, my little spark. Git— skip! Ashore with you, afore 1 pitch you out like a bale o’ cotton.” He rose and stepped toward Will, extending his brawny arms. It was very evident that the slight-built boy would be like a feather in his rasp. aa Hands off!" cried Will, haughtily. ‘‘ Don’t pollute me with your touch! You are the stronger, and I must submit. Buta hornet can sting an elephant. Beware, Dirk Dorgan! I will have revenge for this outrage.” He sprung ashore as he spoke. ‘* All right, my cove! T hope some boat will be along to take youup. But I'm sadly afeared you will have to keep company with the mo- skeeters all night. You kin spend your time Varin’? how to keep your tongue out o’ older folks’ pies. Good-night and happy dreams.” He pushed off, with a mocking laugh, and rowed resolutely away, leaving Will solitary and diseonsolate on the shore of tbe little island, whose highest spot rose scarce a foot above the high tide mark of the sea. Not another boat was in sight. The sun sunk lower and lower. .The wind swept by in fitful gales, The ruffled water beat in foam on the grassy shores. No one could tell what would be the result of that night’s vigil. The sea might rise so as to sweep the island from end to end, and carry its single inhabitant out into the piti- less waves, But I’m afeared my boat ain’t | | CHAPTER VI. A DROWNED-OUT ISLAND, THE sun touched with its lower edge the west- ern horizon, and shot its level rays in a last glance over the sandy plains. There was some- thing lurid and angry in its light, and in the ashy overhanging ciouds, whose edges were lit with asulphury tinge. The wind moaned through the desolate pines that bent their limbs away from the ocean as i! in fear. From far across the waters the wind rushed and whistled, heaping up the waves be- fore it, and causing the surf to break with a hol- low roar on the beach. The tide was still rising. It was already much above its usual level, and the high-tide mark would not be reached yet for an hour, A group of watermen stood on the beach of the old town, looking out to sea, and earnestly conversing. ‘*Ttll be sich a tide as we ain’t had since ’68,” “Tt’s a’ready a foot ’bove its highest mark, and it’s got a foot more o’ raise in it.” ‘* And the surf’s tremendous,” replied another. ‘*Tt’sa marcy if the bath-houses t’other side the. river don’t go by the board. I’ve allers said they was built risky. The old ocean mought be a baby to play with when it’s in a good humor. But it’s a terror when it gits its mad up.” ‘There'll be wrecks afore the night’s over,” rejoined the first speaker. ‘‘There’s allerssome fool of a skipper to hug the shore in a nor’easter; and down he goes to Davy Jones in a whiff.” ‘* Who's that comin’? I thought the boats was al] in.” **Not quite. Jake and his boy are out yet. Avd—that’s the t’other. That’s Dirk!” “ But he’s alone. Where’s the boy he tuk out?” ‘* By the saints, he’s gone and done the lad a. barm arter all! If he bas, boys, it’s our duty to call him to quarters,” Lowering looks came upon the face of the watermen as their eyes watched the approsch- ing boat. They were so in dread of Dirk’s furi- | ous temper and giant strength that they natur- ally shrunk from an encounter with him. But this might be a serious matter that would render some decided action necessary. In a few minutes the boat touched the wharf, and the stalwart rower flung his oars aboard. and quickly sprung asbore, with the painter in his band. The fishermen watched him with threatening glances. ‘“What have you done with the boy?” asked one of them. ‘*Left the imperdent little rat to cool his heels | till mornin’,” answered Dirk, as he secured the boat. ‘ The chatty young lap-dog kin use his. long tongue to skeer off the moskeeters, as are likely to guy him lively quarters fur the nigtt.” ‘Where is he, I say?’ demanded the other boldly. ‘‘ Look out for yourself if any harm comes to him.” ‘* All right, ducky,” returned Dirk insolently. ‘* He’s on Pigmy Island. Guess that’s big enough to hoid a rooster 0’ bis size.” ‘**Pigmy Island!” was the hasty reply. ‘“ You can’t mean it! Look at the tide, man! It’s a foot above its level a’ready, and the island’s under water by now. It'll raise a foot yet, and sweep the boy off into the seas,” ‘* Not much!” answered Dirk, brutally. ‘Do him good to stand fur an hour or twoin a foot o’ water, Jist what he wants to wash some o” the nonsense outer his fresh voung hide.” ““Tbis will not do, Dirk Dorgan!” returned one of the most resolute of the fishermen, ‘If? you know when youre well off you'll go back after the lad. We may stand your airs; but. we won’t stand murder |” Dirk looked around the circle of fishermem with a slow, savage glance. His giant figure seemed to grow in size, as he glowered upon them with fierce defiance in his eyes. “You know where he is. Go fur him yerself if ye want him,” he surlily replied. ‘I prom- ised the dirty little ’ristocrat a warmer, and he’s got it, Let bim drown, He kicked up the wrong cow when he tried city slack on Dirk Dorgan.” The fishermen gave way before him as he. walked resolutely forward. They were not. quite ready for a personal encounter with him. They resumed their conversation as he dis- appeared in the distance. It ended in the un- tying of a boat from the wharf, into which two of them sprung. ‘“We'd be aids in the murder if we let the boy stay there,” cried one of them, ‘‘ Give way. Joe. It’s goin’ to be a wild night; but it’s an errand of marey.” They bevt to their oars, and the boat shot
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Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Dete swiftly across the ruffled waters, toward where the surf broke savagely over the bar. It was nearly two hours afterward when the boat reached the locality of the lonely island, on which Will had been left to spend the night. The darkness bad long since descended, and” lay heavily on sea and shore, blending them to- gether into one broad, even blackness. The wind came by in fierce, fitful puffs. Driving clouds fied in a wild race over the sky, now for a few minutes permitting the moon to shed its light on the troubled waters, now shrouding it in Egyptian darkness. oH Phare in the blazes is the island, Joe?” de- manded one of the watermen, as he rested for a moment on his oars, and peered deeply into the loom. ‘¢Tt ought to be close at hand,” answered Joe. “That last glint of the moon showed us the swell of the inlet where the island lays like a baby in its cradle. I wish yonder tarnation cloud ’d drift off, and give us another glimpse.” ‘Bet high it’s drowned out,” returned his | g companion. ‘’Cause we must lie close on. Gi’n her a set this way. If I ain’t fooled my- self— Hello! what’s that?’ Tris exclamation was called forth by a sudden check to their speed, that nearly flung both rowers backward off their seats. They looked hastily around, but nothing was visible. | Joe plunged his hand into the water and plucked up a handful of grass. ‘* Jist so,” he declared. ‘Thought I weren't mistaken. We're grounded on the island. It’s under water, sure enough. But where in the blue blazes is the boy? Can you see a hair o’ his young hide?” ““Nary hair. Shoot that lazy moon! Why don’t it bu’st out?’ He put his hands to his lips, and broke out into a stentorian bail. “Ahoy, lad! Ahoy! Whar be ye? Yell, if you’re in hearin’.” His ery rung far over the waters, and was swept ashore by the winds, but no answer came. All sunk into silence again, except for the unceasing whistle of the wind and the swash of the water against their boat. They waited for a moment, with gathering awe. Then Joe sprung hastily from the boat to the submerged surface of the island. The water came half-way to his knees, as he stood upright. He walked out in different directions, but found the water to constantly deepen. He looked at his companion with staring eyes. “Tt’s all up with the r lad,” he muttered in awe-struck tones. ‘‘Tbis is the highest spot on the island. He’s gone! Murdered! ou can’t call it by no sweeter name.” ‘‘But to think on it! Not a foot o’ water, and no breakers! What’s took theboy over? You’d thought a baby’d ’a’ stood out the tide.” “But ther’s no backbone in these city chick- ens. The water's cold,too, Maybe the delicate lad got chilled through and gi’n up the fight.” “Mought be tuk off by a boat?” “Mighty poor chance. Every boat was in but Jake Dumps’s when we set out. S’pose he is in afore now.” As he spoke the moon suddenly broke through a rift in the clouds, and poured its clear beams down upon the ruffled waters. Nothing was visible but an angry stretch of foam. No trace remained in land or sea of the abandoned boy. The eyes of the fishermen met in a questioning glance. ‘*What’s your verdick, Joe?” **Bloody murder’s my verdict, ourn?” “Manslaughter, Joe, °Tain’t murder where ‘tain’t intended. 1 know enough law fur that. But Dirk Dorgan is got to answer fur this,” “T calkerlate he has,” answered Joe, with gloomy determination. ‘‘ Bend to yer oars again. We've done our duty. It’s the law that’s to do the balance.” An hour and more afterward the group of watermen, who yet stood on the wharf looking vut into the gloom that shrouded the waters, heard the swasb of oars, and soon saw two dim figures emerge from the shadowy night, “ Ahoy, there! Is that you, Joe and Jesse?” “It’s not Joe and Jesse; but it’s Jake aud sony came the answer from the darkness, as the boat shot up tothe wharf. re spree What has kept you? Do you bring news? Have you seen anything of the boy hat Dirk took out?” “The boy?’ demanded Jake, in a tone of alarm. ‘‘ What’s wrong? Has anything bad come to the boy?” “Yes. Dirk sot him ashore on Pigmy Island. It’s swept by the seas long afore now, and we're desp’rat’ afeared there’s mischief afoot.” What's SS ———eooes=$=Qeaqaeeeeeeeeeeeeee ‘“‘The deuce! And on a night like this! I’ve been belated by some prime fishin’, and passed there arter dark. Dirk Dorgan! This is clean ag’in’ reason! Has some o’ the boys gone out to vestigate?” ‘* Yes,” One hope had died in Jake’s answer. Nothing remained but to wait for the return of the two messengers. Another half-hour passed slowly by. Then the sound of oars was again borne in by the wind. A momentary moon-gleam broke out from the cloud-drift and fell upon the approach- ing boat, Only two figures appeared, rowing silently onward. No hail met them. The waiting fishermen shrunk from losing the last remnants of hope. The boat touched the wharf, and its tenants sprung out, without a word. Only then did the oldest member of the party break the silence. ‘““What news?’ he asked. ‘Is it good or “The isl- bad?” ‘* Bad,” answered Joe, gloomily. and is drowned, and the boy, too, I reckon. There’s not a lock of his hair left to tell that he was ever there.” A momentary hush, and then a cry of anger | broke from one of the listeners. ‘* By all that’s good, then, Dirk Dorgan’s got to answer for this murder! He’s been bulldog o’ the town fur many a year, lads, but he’s come to the end of his rope. He must be ar- rested, instanter.” ‘Maybe he’s foolin’ us,” answered another. I ai have left the boy there arter all.” ‘‘Where is he, then? That’s the question. We've got to hold Dirk till the mystery’s settled. If the boy turns up, well and good If he’s gone under, Dirk’s confessed bis murder.” ‘*Tell you what, boys,” broke in the cautious patrisrch of the village. ‘‘’Tain’t best tomove too hasty. It’s my advice that we put a watch ’round Dirk’s house for the night! To-morrow, if the boy don’t come to light, we can get word over to the magistrate in the new town, and fotch him here with a warrant. That looks to me the judgmatical thing.” ‘“‘'There’s sound sense in that,” answered sev- eral of the others. ‘‘Two or three of us will be watch enough to see that he don’t slide afore daylight. The rest can take their snooze.” This reasonable plan was decided upon, and the guard appointed to keep watch on Dirk’s cottage. As they came up in front of it the sturdy ruffian opened his door and stepped out, in the rays of the lamplight from inside the cottage. e glared for a moment angrily at the group of men, while a look came over his face as if he bad divined their purpose at a glance. He ad- vanced a step, apparently with the intention of accosting them. But heseemed to change his mind before speaking, and retired again to his cottage, shutting the door angrily behind him. ‘‘ The bulldog has drawn back into his kennel,” said one of the guards. ‘‘ There we must keep him. Take vour stations all, and keep open eyes. It’s clear he’s took the hint.” CHAPTER VII. THE BIRD OUT OF THE CAGE. Tue night passed on in gloom and shadow. Still the wind howled, and the waves broke in a roar of thunder on the beach. Over in the new town lights were visible till late in the night. The fierce surf bad carried away the strong board walk that fronted the town, lifting it like a feather, and dashing it back as if in disdain, rent into fragments. Many of the bath-houses, too, had sunk into the waves, and their splin- tered relics were tossed in shattered heaps on the shore, lifting and grinding with every fresh wave. The excitement which this occasioned copy 4 extended beyond the river to the old town. it was built too high for danger, the boats had been secured early in the evening, and the tide was now falling. There was no need to keep vigil, except around the cottage of Dirk Dorgan, where the guard still kept up its vigilant watch. hortly after midnight this guard was re- lieved by three others, who volunteered to continue the watch until daybreak. ‘““What’s the report?’ asked Jake Dumps, who was ove of this new patrol, ‘‘ Has he been astir?” ‘A bit; ’arly in the night. been as quiet as a mouse in a cheese. wide awake. He’s a cunnin’ varmint.” ‘“*Ay, ay! Gvod-night.” The remaining hours of the night moved But Jatterlv he’s Keep ctive. fg silently on. The gloom continued deep and heavy. The soughing wind broke through the fir branches. From afar came the heavy roar of the sea, Finally a drizzling rain dripped down, forcing the vigilant guard to retire under the. shelter of neighboring trees. But they remained stationed at three points so as to command the whole circumference of the cottage. It seemed as if a cat could not bave crept past unseen. Yet nothing appeared. Dirk seemed to be passing tbe night in quiet slumber. The first glow of the coming morning shed a lurid light upon the eastern clouds. The tide was again rising, but it promised to be not nearly so high as on the preceding evening. Long before daybreak a boat, manned by two oarsmen, had set out from the town, and was now far up the inlet. It had been decided to take a daylight view of the situation before proceeding to extremities. Dirk might have lied. The boy may have been left on the main island, where he would be safe. It was best to be sure on this point ere going too far. The sun was about two hours high when this party of investigation returned. The boy was pot with them; that it needed no words to tell. ‘“What news?’ demanded old Toby, the patriarch of the town, ‘The lad has vanished.. Dirk told the truth, He was left on Pigmy Island.” ** Are you sure?” “We found this shore.” He held up a soaked cap, which was quickly recognized as the one that Will had worn the day before. The hardy watermen drew their breaths hard. “That settles it,” declared old Toby, solemnly. “The lad’s gone to Davy Jones, and Dirk Dor- gan’s responsible for bis death.” A bush followed. lt was a moment of awe and excitement. Murder had been done, not with deliberate intention, but in fact. A serious duty lay upon the inhabitants of the town. The pause of indecision ended by Toby leaping into the boat, and seizing the oars. “We must stick to the law,” he said. ‘‘ You two come with me. We will cross to the new town, and lay ourcharge before the squire. This thing must be done by regular warrant, sarved by a constable.” The fishermen, who shrunk from a personal encounter with their powerful and fearless neighbor, willingly accepted this solution of the difficulty, and waited with impatience during the hour of old Toby’s absence. At the end of that time be returned, accompanied by the con- stable. Several other boats, containing inbabi- tants of the new town, came with him. The news of the crime had spread rapidly from the magistrate’s office, and created a considerable excitement. A throng of people followed the constable in his movement toward Dirk's cot- tage. ‘“‘ How lays the land?” asked this official. ‘‘Is he about? Has he shown any signs of escap- ing? “ He has not moved a finger, night nor morn- ing,” answered one of the fishermen. ‘ His bouse was watched all night by keen eyes. Since morning it has kept shut close, and nota whisper has come from it. Dirk smells what’s in the wind, and is playing sullen. But you must look out. That kind, when they do break out, are like mad bulls,” “T fancy ll tame him,” answered the con- stable, with a quiet smile. ‘‘Stand back, gen- tlemen. It is possible it may come to a matter of bullets, and a crowd isan awkward back- ground for pistol practice.” This -cool advice caused a sudden halt in the throng of followers. They had no fancy for acting as targets. The guard, who still stood around .the house, advanced to meet the con-. stable, as he approached the door, ‘* We hardly know what to make of it,” said the foremost of them. ‘For six hours there has not been a stir inside. He’s there, as close as abee in a blossom. A fly could not have passed our guard, But this silence is strange. Can the man bave made an end of himself?” “Not he. He isn’t that sort.” The officer knocked vigorously upon tbe door. ‘‘ Dirk!” he cried, in a decided tone. ‘‘ Come out. , You're wanted. Skulking won’t serve ou.” No answer came from within. A deathlike silence continued, ‘This is strange,” muttered the officer, as he laid his hand on the knob of the door, and gave it a quick turn. To his surprise the door opened lodged on the island
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8 Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective. aaa eat i> ie GR pepe nae ae atatouch. It was not locked as he had fully expected to find it. he main room of the cottage lay open before his eyes. It was empty. The constable turned and spoke a few words to the men behind bim. Some of them moved tothe rear door of the building. Others fol- lowed him into the house. It contained but four rooms, two above-and two below. There were no cellars. It took scarcely a minute to investigate these rooms, though it needed to be done with some caution, in consideration of the sort of man with whom we 5 had to deal, et caution proved unnecessary. The rooms were empty. Dirk had disappeared. It was an utterly unexpected result of the search, What had heist of him? »The guard, who pressed eagerly forward, declared positive- ly that he had not left the building under their eyes. He wasnota bird to fly, nor a mole to excavate. How had he escaped? They looked blankly at ore ano ber, in dis- may and astonishment. The crowd outside had ushed intothe house at this astounding news. The search as yet had not been thorough, There ‘were closets, beds, and other places to be ex- amined. But a few minutes sufficed to investi- gate every nook of the house, The result was the same. Dirk had vanished. The crowd pushed out again, to talk over this unexplained riddie, while the constable began a more careful investigation, in hopes of finding some clew to the mystery. Almost every article in the house was closely examined, Some few discoveries resulted. Dirk had formerly kept a housekeeper, but for the last year or two had lived alone doing his owa cooking, and surrounded by avery sparse array of furniture. Yet some things were missing. The clothes he wore in his fishing excursions had been left behind, and his best suit taken. Certain light articles which he was known to possess had also vanished. He had evidently made his escape in some mysterious manner, and taken such of ” possessions as he particularly valued with im, “You may think/you have done your best,” said the constable sarcastically to the watch- men, ‘but it is plain he has been too smart for you. The business isin my hands now. He is a fugitive murderer. [ will have him, if I have to search the whole State from end to end.” In fact, more events had occurred during the receding night than the cordon of watchmen ancied. As we have no desire to keep the reader in the same mystery as troubled the townsmen, we must go back a few hours into the darkness, and trace the cause of Dirk’s dis- appearance. here is an old fable which relates that a lion which had been taken in a net, was released by the teeth of a gnawing mouse. It was the same with Dirk; a mouse had freed the lion. Silent as Dirk had continued during the early portion of the night, be had not been asleep; in fact, the fierce roffian was for once in his life frightened at the consequences of bis brutality. The one thing he feared was the law, and he had always cunningly kept clear of its fangs. But now, through a bit of willful spite, he had fallen into its meshes, and dreaded the most se- rious consequences of his misdeed. He had managed to overbear all that had pass- ed among the fishermen, and knew well that he was liable to a charge of manslaughter, and to a long term of imprisonment. That the boy had been swept away by the waves he did not doubt, and already the pallid countenance of a drowned form rose frightful- ly before his awakened imagination. Conscience carries a keen whip, and the most hardened nature is not proof against its stings. He would have given all he possessed to be able to live over again the past few hours. It was two o’clock in the morning. The sec- cond watch had long been set. Silent as Dirk kept, he knew all that was going on without. He now sat near the rear door of his cottage, his chin on his hand, half inclined to make a rush for freedom, yet afraid that any haste . escape would act as new evidence against im. Suddenly he started as if he bad been stung. A light, tapping sound bad come upon the door. He sprung to his feet in mingled surprise and superstition. t was repeated—a distinct but faint rap! Dirk stood irresolute, his eyes fixed on the door. His usual prompt decision failed him for once in his life. The latch was lifted. The door, which was unlocked, opened. A diminutive form slipped in, ~ een! 7 yh Ae 9? © g PN AGA : 4 Joes Phil » ic al & te ated LOM . M 4 S (> be lege Ae 4 wt li picn ty if < Sie PS TL OW Pista . 4h he ‘hd ets PPR er BENT A - Anh : fete, ‘ ”! 3 A eo " ah ut iy ‘ yo! eS Wy, he ye ee ‘ And ; paar has and closed the door behind him, He stood in the ligbt of the lowered lamp, a sbort, boyish fig- ure, facing the astonished ruffian. ‘*Who the blazes are you? And what are you arter?’ queried Dirk, in a low, hollow tone. ‘‘Guess you oughter know me,” replied the boy boldly. ‘I’m Tony Thorne. I’m Jake Dumps’s nevey. 1 owe you one, and I’ve come to pay you.” ** Owe me one?” ‘‘ You bet Ido! You saved me from a duck- in’ this afternoon. Mebbe you’ve forgot it, but I bain’t. You're in a awful scrape, Dirk, and I’ve come to dig you out.” j Dirk looked at bim for a minute with wild eyes. He then eaverly extended his hand, and oy oe Tony’s shoulder, ‘Come in here out o’ earshot,” he demanded. ‘¢ Blast me if I don’t like yer! Come here, and let’s hear what’s in the wiad.” Tony followed him to an up-stairs room, where they sat in the gloom of the night. “Now, midget, peg in. I’m listenin’!” “‘ Tt’s just this, Dirk,” began Thorny Tony, in a decisive tone, ‘‘ That boy’s drownded, and it’s odd if they don’t stretch your neck for it. They’ve got it in their wool, now I tell you. You've only got two friends left in the town.” **Who’s them?” queried Dirk. “That's me, and uncle Jake. Id _ been drownded mebbe this afternoon only you snatched me ous. Weain’t forgot that. What’s more, I hate thas little aristocrat like p'izen. Me and him bad a squabble only t’other day; and I think you served him jist right, Now I'm here to git you out of this scrape. ‘Tt can’t be did,” rejoined Dirk. ‘‘ The guard’s on. If I moved a foot they’d have the whole town, like barkin’ curs, at my heels.” “Not much,” answered Tony. ‘That ain’t the way I do bizness. Jist listen tome. Uncle Jake’s on the guard. He’s stationed right back 0’ this door. ou kin slip out and away. He won’t see you. Take my word for that.’ Dirk glared at the confident boy in hope and surprise. ‘“Why, ye’re jist a little hoss!” he declared. ‘‘ But, what’s the use? I’ve got no hidin’-place. bee! ty pick me up like a stray log in the har- i. ‘‘Trust me for that,” replied Tony, in a tone of assurance. ‘‘ Uncle Jake and me ain’t slouches, to half do our jobs. Vl take you toa spot where you. won’t be found soon, I promise you. But I tell you what it is, if fon have anything here you value you'd best take it with ou. It maybe a long day afore you come ack, And this place ‘ll be s’arched severe, now you bet. Hunt out your valybles. Tu slipfout and wait for you jist back of Joe Bliz- zard’s house. You needn’t be afeared to go past uncle Jake. He’il have his eyes tight shet.” The scared ruffian caught Tony by the shoul- der, and looked searchingly in bis face. Tbe boy bore the scrutiny without flinching. Dirk released him with an air of satisfaction. ‘“‘P)]1 do it,” he said. ‘You're true grit. Wait outside. 1’ll join youin ten minutes.” Tony obeyed without a word. He had his ob- ject in leaving Dirk awhile alone. The ten min- utes passed, The solitary ruffian prowled about his house, going through some strange evolu- tions, as he made up a small bundle ef the ob- jects he wished to take with him. ** Won’t do to leave it behind,” he muttered. ‘They mought find the package and hand it over to Wilson. I'll have my revenge out on that man if I spend my whole life in it, Won’t never let up the squeeze I’ve got on him.” The darkness was intense as he slipped out into the air. He could vaguely see the form of the watchman. He walked silently on. It proved as Tony had said. The guard stood motionless, while he slipped quietly past. In afew moments more he was at tbe appointed rendezvous, “ Jolly!” remarked Tony, suddenly making his appearance. ‘‘Come on. Part of the job’s done, but there’s more afvre us.” CHAPTER VIII. THORNY TONY GETS IN HIS WORK. “I TELL you they've got it ag’in’ you blue, Jist you put that down iv yer ’count-book.” The speaker was Tony Thornve. He was driv- ing along in a one-horse, tumble-down old gig, through the shadowy reaches of the night, with Dirk Dorgan for a companion. “ If you’d’a’ heered ’em like I did, spoutin’ out spite, it'd made yer blood crawl,” continued Tony, in a sepulebral voice, ‘‘ They ain’t in love with you now, nary time; and they’ve got the drop on you, deadsure. Why, it wouldn’t took much fur ’em to hung you up, without judge or jury.” Dirk's veins tingled at this information. Bold and reckless as he was, the thought of hanging was anything but an agreeable one, and he knew well that he had made himself hated in the village by his overbearing disposition. ‘‘ Where are you taking me?” be asked, peer- ing out into the darkness. “If you run me into any trap, you young rascal, I'll cure you of all tricks for the rest o’ yer nat’ral life.” “Took’s like it, don’t it?’ rejoined Tony, scornfully. ‘‘When I’ve jist pulled yer neck outer the hangman’s noose! ’Tain’t much use workin’ for a feller like you, that ain’t got no more conscience nor a bread-puddin’ has dump- lin’s.” ‘‘ But, where are you takin’ me? That’s what I want to know.” ‘* And it’s what you won’t know. It’sa secret hidin’-place, as uncle Jake knows, and you’ve got to go in there unbeknownst. I ain’t bor- ried this high-up hoss and stylish kerridge fur fun, now you bet.” “A secret place of Jake Dumps! Lord, you don’t tell me that? I allers thought that sly old coon had more tricks nor fishin’ and gun- nin’. So the cat’s comin’ out the bag, hey?’ He laughed boarsely, with a forced merri- ment. He was evidently trying to throw off the weight of bis own troubles. “ Jist you never mind that. Uncle Jake allers butters his own bread. Don’t ax nobody to doit fur him. But you’ve got to blindfold your eyes afore you go into his den.” ‘* What fer?’ “So you won’t know where it is, that’s all. He don't trust nobody as mought blab on bim,” ‘‘He’s an old crocodile. Blast me if I’ll do any sich nonsense!” “All right. Then you kin drive yerself. ’Tain’t much I keer.” ‘‘-You dirty rapscallion! You shall drive me there,” Like to know how you're goin’ 1 make me.’ Dirk caught the arm of his tantalizing com- panion in a fierce grip, and bent his lowering eyes with a threatening look upon his face. ‘“Maybe you don’t know what it is to play with a man like me!” he. hissed. “ Maybe not,” answered Tony, without flinch- ing. ‘But I know this much. You kin squeeze a pig’s tail till you make bim boller; but he won’t go where you want fer all your squeezin’. Go ahead, Dirk,” he dropped the reins. ‘* You're i. to make me drive, are you? Let’s see you o it.’ Dirk grasped his other arm, and twisted him around until they sat face to face, The ruffian bent forward until bis face almost touched that of the unflinching boy. The words came biss- ingly from his lips. * Blast yer young hide, I'll kill you as I did the other! Do as 1 bid, or ’ll have more than one to hang for.” ‘‘ And hang for it you will,” answered Tony, boldly. ‘‘Tbere’s a man in town knows where Iam: Let me be missin’, and salt won’t save you.” Dirk was fairly nonplused. Despite his threats he did not dare do his companion an injury, and Tony well knew that. The fierce looks and tones of the ruffian were thrown away on the shrewd boy, “Pll be shot if I'll go into any hole likea muffled rat!” he declared, violently, but with a besitating tone. “Dig out, then, if you’ve got a better way,” answered Tony. ‘‘If you go with me you've got togomy way. Jist h’ist that into yer pipe and smoke it.” The baffled villain dropped the unyieldin boy with a gesture of despite. He could hard- ly check himself from dealing him a fierce blow with his iron fist. But the moment was a peril- ous one, It would not do to, lose his only friend. “Ts it far to go?” be asked, more mildly. ‘‘That’s my bizness,” answered Tony. ‘* The night’s dark enough to hide anything, but I won't trust it. You’ve got to have your eyes blinded. That’s uncle Jake’s orders.” Dirk angrily jerked a pore red handkerchief from his pocket, and bound it over bis eyes. ** Hope that'll suit yer idees, Drive on now, you nagging little whelp.” Tony inspected the bandage. Satisfied that it was secure, he took up the reins, and set the horse again into a trot. How he had, in a few days’ residence, Jearned enough of the country to go on a long drive of a dark night did not appear. But, a wide-awake boy, like Thorny Tony, is quick at taking things in.
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ie He had already driven for an hour. He con- tinued his course for nearly a balf-bour more. At the end of that time he stopped the horse, and took Dirk by the arm. **Come now,” he whispered. ‘‘ Be very keer- ful *bout noise. We are not far away from ears, and there’s a bit 0’ ground to tramp over.” Ten minutes of cautious progress succeeded. Then a door was carefully opened, and closed behind them, Their feet were no longer upon the earth. The firm resistance of a wooden floor was beneath them. Tony continued to lead his blinded compan- jon. A second door was opened, which seemed to admit them to another room. It closed again, and the voice of Tony came, in muffled accents, as if from a distance: “You kin take off the handkerch’er now. But, mind me. Don’t poke yer nose outer these doors, if you don’t want to git into trouble. You’ve got to keep as close as a musk- rat in a mud-bank.” Dirk hastily jerked off the bandage from his eyes, and looked inquiringly around him. He was alone, Tony bad disappeared. A turned-down lamp faintly illuminated the apartment in which he stood. It wasa small room, about twelve feet square, with a bare floor and sparse furniture. There was nothin about it to indicate anything secret or mysteri- ous. Such an apartment might have belonged to any country house, or fisherman’s cottage. Dirk continued to look about him, with a gaze of sbarp investigation, The room was strange to him, yet not wholly so. There hung over it a vague sense of familiarity, which he could not penetrate, He tried the door to discover if he was a risoner. No, it opened easily to hishand. A arger room was dimly visible. But Tony had vanished. No trace of his diminutive form was to be seen, Dirk seated himself, and dropped into a deep train of reflection. e had been burried on- ward so rapidly for the last hour or two as to give him no time tothink. This was the first moment in which he had a chance for deliberate thougbt. He began to measure his situation. The man was of a suspicious temperament, and there had been much in the late events to arouse his suspicions. Why had Jake Dumps so suddenly become his friend? He bad shown no disposition of the kind before, and Tony’s ex- planation was not a very satisfactory one. And what sort of a secret apartment was this? He had been led to expect some cunningly con- trived hiding-place; yet here he was in the room of an ordinary house. He rose hastily, and strode through the front room to the door, determined to settle this mys- tery at once, He laid his hand on thedoor. It failed to yield. He was locked in, after all! Dirk looked at the door, and drew back his ponderous fist, with a half-formed intention to dash it through the stout panels. But he hesi- tated. Tony’s warning was not without its effect upon him. He might be running into some unknown danger. It was certain that he had been rescued from a perilous situation. Why should he mistrust those who had rescued him at their own risk? He could be no worse off now than before. Dirk reseated himself and resumed bis re- fiections, his dark face working as the thoughts passed successively through his mind. Suddenly he sprung up, and brought down his fist with a heavy blow on the table before him, while a look of malignant meaning came into his eyes. “Tve got it, by Davy Jones!” he exclaimed. ** A dashed fool I was not to see through it at once! If Mark Wilson ain’t at the bottom: of this you kin salt me down fur a herring! He’s tried a bundred different tricks to sali vate me,and this is the last. Hang me if I didn’t think it thunderin’ queer that Jake Dumps struck a nevey sosudden! See it all now. It’s one 0’ Wilson’s games. Aha! thought he’d catch the old coon, did he? Got me to bring the pa- ers with me, so as they could go through me! last me if that ain’t keen! Next thing they’ll fetch the officers down on me, and s’arch me, and snatch the dockyments. I see through it now, clear to the bottom. But it wén’t work, Mark Wilson. I’ve sworn to have my revenge to the bitter end, and have it I will, if I have to burn the papers. You ain’t goin’ to git the whip hand of ole Dirk Dorgan so easy.” He sat thinking for some minutes still. Then he seized the lamp, and started on a tour of in- spection of the house. He wanted to see bow the land lay ere he decided on any plan of ac- tion, _ A pair of stairs led to an upper story, consist- SS eee ee ee eee ee ing of two rooms, which be quickly examined. They were plainly furnished, and had about them that aspect of vague familiarity which he | had already observed. “*T’ve been here afore,” he declared to himself, ‘* though I can’t jist nail the spot. What’s come o’ that boy! Is he off to fetch the bloodhounds on my track? By old Neptune, I'll cheat Mark Wilson! I wanted to’keep these papers fur the boy’s good arter me and Wilson was both gone to pot, but I can’t hide ’em here, and there’s nothin’ fur it but a quick blaze and a pile of ashes, That ends it. He’ll never squeeze the truth out o’ me, arter the papers is gone.” He removed the chimney of the lamp with a firm band. He then took from the bosom of his sea-shirt a narrow roll of papers, which he ad- vanced toward the naked flame. ‘* So ends the hopes of Mark Wilson’s heir,” he muttered, “and the secret 1 have guarded for twenty years.” As he spoke, his eyes fell upon a spot upon the wall which he had noted before where hung a framed portrait of a middle-a ed gentleman. His eyes distended with sudden horror as be again noted the picture. The frame was still there, but the portrait had disappeared. Or ra- ther it had been replaced by a life-size youthful face, with staring eyes and a countenance as white as driven snow. No wonder that Dirk Dorgan was stricken with horror. lt was the face of the drowned boy! A gasp of wild terror came from the lips of the startled ruffian. He slowly retreated, hold- ing the lamp in one band and the papers in the other, his eyes fixed in speechless affright on the deathlike apparition. The eyes and lips of the figure moved. Hol- low tones came from the lips. ‘*Murderer!” pulsed the voice. victim! ‘Your doom is sealed!” With a terrible yell Dirk let fall the lamp and the roll, and dashed down the stairs almost at a single spring. Like a wild bull he rushed at the house door, which flew open before bis power- ful impetus, Blind with terror he sprung out into the night. Butin aninstant he halted and looked around him with a new sensation. What were these houses, that stream? One glance was enough. He was still in the town of Micmac! He had been completely fooled! Dirk’s terror vanished before this astounding revelation. The whole thing was a trick. This apparition wasa art of the trick. He turned and dashed back nto the house and up the stairs as wildly as he had dashed down. His eyes quickly glanced around. There hung the portrait, as it had at first hung. There lay the lamp, unbroken and still burning. But the valuable roll of papers? In vain he sought! It had utterly disappeared! “Tt is I, your CHAPTER IX. PICKING UP DROPPED THREADS. WE must stop for awhile and look back. One can not go on forever in life without an occasion- | al turn-back in his pathin search of something which he has passed unseen. It is so in our pre- sen: story. There are some dropped threads in | its context, which we must go back and pick up. | In fact the face in the picture, which bad for the moment so startled the rugged soul of Dirk | Dorgan, was no apparition, but the countenance | of a living being. Will Worth bad not become the prey of the sea, as every one imagined, and | the method of his escape from his perilous situ- ation needs to be made clear. There is another matter also which requires | explanation, the sudden gratitude which Tony had developed for Dirk Dorgan. All these arose from events of the early portion of that night which bad made such a sensation in the village of Micmac. It will be remembered that when Dirk Dorgan had set, out on his fishing excursion with Will, they had been followed at a distance by the boat containing Jake Dumps and his ready-made nephew. The latter had lagged behind, out of sight of the forward boat, but yet at no great distance in the rear. | Jake and Tony threw in their lines at a fishing ground a few miles up the inlet, where they con- / tinued to fish for some time with considerable { success. The afternoon waned while they were | thus occupied, the sun had sunk low in the west, | and they flung in fora final throw, Tony re- | marking: / “ Arter this pull we’d best take a tug at the oars further up channel. T’other boat’s makin’ along spell, and I’m cur’us to see if ther’ ain’t some deviltry afoot.” ‘*Don’t b’lieve there is,” answered Jake, with | out of the water, Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective. 9 ‘‘Dirk knows he’s If he a shake of the head. watched, and he won’t try no capers. hurt the boy he’d get in trouble.” ** Little he keers when he’s got his mad up,” answered Tony. ‘‘ Bet you 1 weuldn’t trust none o’ my eggs in his pocket. But Lawsee! there he comes now; and no Will with him!” It was as he said. Dirk’s boat had just turned a corner of the channel ahead, and was coming swiftly onward, impelled by his vigorous strokes. Jake and Tony had now got to their oars and rowed out into the channel, in the track of the comin “What's come o’ the lad as you tuk out with ou?’ “Left the bloody young bull-hound to cool bis heels on the island,” answered Dirk, brutally. ‘“He’s so rascally smart that a night's out-door coolin’ mought do him some good. ; ‘*Come, come, that won’t do!” exclaimed Jake, ‘He'll be swallowed alive by ’skeeters. Best go back and take bim off.” **Mucb I will.” ‘*Then I’m hanged if I don’t!” “You will, hey?’ cried Dirk, angrily. ‘* You'll spile my fun, Jake Dumps? Maybe you've forgot the kind o’ cbhaplam. Now, jist you snatch your oars and row down channel ahead o’ me, or shoot meif I leave a whole bone in yer dirty hide. Dig out now. I mean it.” ake, indignant as he was, knew bis antagonist too well to dare disregard this threat. Dirk never multiplied his words. He was just the man to do what he had promised. The old fisherman, who was no match for his brawny opponent, resumed his oars, and with a long sweep sent the boat spinning down the channel. THis movement had an unexpected result. It unluckily happened that just at that moment Tony had left his seat at the tiller, and was walking forward along the gunwale, for some unexplained pur . The sudden movement of the boat gave bim a leeward jerk, and ere he could regain his footing he toppled overboard with a heavy splash. The boat sped on under the impetus, leaving him struggling in the water. Tony’s city life had left his education deficient in one respect. He did not know how toswim, Thus his situa- tion was really dangerous, He might sink ere the boat could be turned back to his rescue. But Dirk had been resting on his oars not far in the rear. A hoarse laugh came from his bearded lips as he saw the plunge of the unlucky boy. But he dropped his oars into the water, gave the boat a send forward, and in an instant had Tony by the collar. A quick jerk by his strong arm, and the drenched lad was lifted as if he had been a feather. “There! Stand there and drip,” cried Dirk, roughly. ‘*‘And try and git yer sea legs afore ye go boatin’ ag’in,” Tony was dripping and shaking himself when Jake’s boat came gliding up alongside of Dirk’s. ‘** Jump aboard, boy. Woke none the worse for the duckin’,” he cried. ‘*Much obleeged, Dirk. Likely ye’ve saved the lad from drown- in’. ‘Poh! He’s not the first puppy I’ve snatched ” rch bo Dirk, in an insult- ing tone. ‘‘ Push on now, Jake. to leave you behind me,” The fisherman obeyed, while Tony sat shiver- ing in the cool night air. He had at first felt a feeling of gratitude toward Dirk, but this last speech had caused a revulsion in his mind. It was not so pleasant to be compared to a drown- i Pappy. P * All right, Dirk Dorgan,” he muttered to himself. ‘‘ You won’t have me for a friend, then. I’m your drowned puppy, am I? Look out the puppy don’t bite. I’m old enough any- how to have my eyes open, if I am a puppy.” The two boats moved on over the roughened surface of the water, Jake in advance, until a mile or two had been passed. This brought them to the mouth of the inlet. The sun was now low. and the gloom of the coming night was descending on the waters. It was the night of the great storm, the wind was blowing in fierce gusts, and between the entrance to the inlet and the mouth of the river was a danger- ous reuch, where the surf broke at an alarming hig bt. lt was now “‘save who can.” The two rowers paid no further attention to one another, but each worked for his own salvation in the inner edge of the boiling surf. Dirk’s vigorous sweep soon drove his boat in advance of Jake’s, which labored in the foaming sea-edge behind. The stalwart ruffian turned into the mouth of the 1 ain’t goin’
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10 river, while his followers were yet little beyond the inlet. **Good! He’s out o’ sight now!” cried Tony. “Turn back. We must git that boy off. Wouldn't leave him out sich a night as this fur a ship-load o’ gold.” “Tt can’t be did,” returned Jake, with a doubtful shake of the head. ‘‘’Tain’t in the oars. It’s an ugly night, and we’ve got our own lives to save.” “* Mighty nice!” rejoined Tony. ‘‘ But if you don’t take him off, hang the cent will you ever see of Mark Wilson’s money. I tell you he sets store by the boy, and he’s got cash enough to stuff a cow with greenbacks.’ This inducement made a sudden change in old Jake’s intentions. In a moment he swirled the am around, and rowed for the mouth of the inlet. ‘*Steer keerful,” he warned. ‘‘ Keep her rindin’ the sand. If we git out into the breaker- ine it'll beat down the boat like it would a feather.” Tony, who had learned the art of steering, skillfully obeyed; and they were soon within the smoother waters of the inlet. They rowed back in silence. The night was rapidly approaching, and by the time they had gained their late fishing-grounds, a thick duski- ness had replaced the daylight. ‘Keep a sharp lookout on the island now,” warned Jake. ‘*The moon’s up, and there’s a shadder o’ daylight yit. If he’s a-standin’ there, ou kin see him. Let out a yell now and then. he lad mought be crouchin’ in the weeds.” The boat was close along the edge of the main island, where it continued to advance, while Tony kept his keen young eyes sweeping the low-lying land. Occasionally, also, he gave a shrill cry, which rung high above the roar of the wind. < They moved on in this way for some two or three miles. It had now become quite dark, but the moon had risen into a bank of broken clouds, which permitted an occasional glimpse of the island surface. Tony continued his sbrill calls at frequent intervals. Suddenly there came a faint answer; but to their surprise, it did not come from the direction of the island. It seemed to come from over the open water to the left. There was a momentar lull in the wind, and Tony repeated bis call. The reply came again, louder and clearer than before. “*Tt’s no gull, at any rate!” he cried, twisting round. ‘**Do you see anything?” asked Jake. “ Nothin’ but a dim shadow. It’s pitch dark thereaway.” ‘Let me git my eyes on it.” The experienced old fisherman bent low, and looked across the surface of the ruffled water. He spoke after a minute’s observation. ‘‘There’s summat there, but I can’t make it out clear. It’s like a floatin’ buoy. Keep yer eyes open while I set the boat over.” The vague upright line which they hal ob- served grew clearer as the boat moved toward it. Itseemedto move. Tony called again. ** Ahoy!” **Hereaway,” came a distinct answer. **Ts it a man, a boy, or a hobgoblin?” “A boy. And pretty near a ghost.” The boat was now close at hand, “Ts it you, Will Worth?” “ Nobody else, Is that you, Tony Thorne?” **'You bet.” “Then thank [leaven! for the sea would have swept me off in an hour more.” The boat suddenly grounded. Jake dropped so oars and sprung up, with a keen look around im. * It’s Figmy Island, or I’m a sinner!” he ejac- ulated. ‘‘All under water, and the boy left there todrown! Blame my top-knot if I thought Dirk Dorgan was sich a wurderin’ hog! ll lay bim out for this, if I don’t, shoot me! Come, poor feller, step aboard, You’ve had a narrer squeeze fur it. You kin thank Tony here fur yer life.” Will had already made his way through the water, and step into the boat with Tony’s aid. He was shivering with cold, but he warm- ly grasped the hands of both his rescuers, while tears stood in his eyes. “Tf Lever can return this, I will, you can depend on that,” he gratefully declared. ‘An hour more there I would have chilled through and dropped into the water. As for Dirk Dor- gan, I won’t forget him either.” “Mighty rough quarters, Will,’ remarked Tony, as he again pressed his hand. “The water did one good job, though.” “What was that?” : J Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective. “Tt drowned out the mosquitoes. There were millions of them I do believe, before the tide swept over the island.” The laugh which this speech occasioned, broke the serious feelings which had filled their spirits at first. Jake, with undiminished vigor, began to row back, down the channel. As they proceeded, they fell into an earnest conversation, . in which the proper course to be pursued, was dis- cussed. ‘‘Hush!” cried Tony, atlength. ‘There are oars.” Jake stopped rowing. They fell into a deep silence. tite roll of oars, which the wind had brought to their ears, came nearer. The moon was now overclouded, and they saw only a faint shadow on the dark waters, as the coming boat drew near. Its inmates were loudly talking, and they passed near enough for every word to be dis- tinctly heard, The subject of their conversa- tion was deeply interesting to the three listeners, Tony, in fact, was on the point of replying, but he was checked by the cautious old man. “‘Not a word,” said Jake, in low tones. ‘ Let ’em goon. The thing’s workin’ neat.” In a few minutes more the boat was out of hearing. It was the boat which had been sent out to Pigmy Island to Will’s rescue, and the subject of conversation of its rowers had been the suspicions of murder entertained against Dirk Dorgan. ‘*Let em go,” againremarked Jake. ‘‘ They'll fetch in a bad report, and maybe Dirk’ll be jerked fur the murder. We must keep the boy shady for a while. Somethin’ neat mought come outen this.” They resumed their progress, laying a plot cS ga Dirk Dorgan as they did so. The result of this plot we have seen, Will was landed in a solitary spot, and afterward conducted unseen to Jake’s cottage, where he was concealed in an unused apartment. To this same cottage Dirk was, at a later hour, ccnducted, through the skillful maneuvers of Tony, who had managed to completely humbug the shrewd villain. We have seen the finale. The picture against the wall was one of old Jake’s fancies. It was really movable, and formed the cover to a pia eM leading into the room in which Will was concealed, The hidden youth had overheard Dirk’s words and opened the window for an observation, at the very instant tht the startled villain looked up. It is not surprising that the latter was frightened. Will himself was scared, and turned so pale that his face really appeared of deathly hue. Yet startled as the boy was by the discovery, hjs quick wit at once took in the situation, and he improvised, on the spur of the moment, the sepulchral words which had thrown Dirk into such terror. Nor was Will less active'in another direction. Dirk had hardly disappeared ere he sprung into the room, seized the valuable roll of papers from the floor, and made a hasty retreat. ‘I wonder who’s got the bull by the horns now?” he triumphantly cried. ‘ Left me to be drowned on an island, did you? TPve a notion T’ll be even with you for it. We've won our game, and must make tracks. Mr. Wilson will give half his fortune for this little bundle of papers.” CHAPTER X. A DOUBLE CHASE. WE have already in a preceding chapter de- scribed the events of the morning which follow- ed the stirring night of the storm. Dirk had disappeared, as we know. He was not to be found in the village. But Will also had van- ished, and the inhabitants were more convinced of the murder than ever. The constable at once set himself in pursuit of the fugitive, first searching the town aud the houses in its vicinity, and then starting out on a wider exploration of the surrounding coun- try. It was an opportunity to distinguish himself such as he had never before possessed, and he was bound to make the most of it. Still another inmate of the village had disap- peared, as Jake Dumps had discovered on his return to his habitation. Tony had vanished. He was not to be found within the boundaries of Micmac, and the old fellow, who had taken a great fancy to his new-made nephew, was in a serious fret at his disappearance. As it is of immense importance to our story to know what had become of these vanished ——— Ore. CUrhrreaa ee ee — ee t? wy i ee Fo Fess A Rata A Ror persons, we must return to the cover of the night, and seek to trace their movements. Vill Worthy, on tis escape from the cottage, had been forced to slip behiud the door as Dirk furiously returned, and rushed up the stairs which he bad just descended. Will quickly slipped out into the night, where he gave vent to a low whistle. Instantly feet were heard approaching, and through the gloom appeared the diminutive form of Tony. “Ts it you, Will? What’s up? Any luck?’ “The best! we’ve got to slide away from here instanter. Dirk smells a rat, and will be out on us ina second more.” ‘Got ’em? Jolly boy! Come this way. I’ve got the game laid out. We'll salt the old sucker!” Will rapidly followed his active assistant. In a few minutes they reached a spot a short dis- tance beyond the limits of the village. Here still stood the antiquated vehicle which Tony had used in Dirk’s escape. “There you are, Will. Jump in and drive off like wild. It’s Jake’s team. Ill make it all right.” “ Aren’t you coming with me?” “Nary time.. I’m goin’ to stay behind, and circumnavigate old Dirk. Driveahead. Don’t lose a minute.” ‘* But where will I go to?” “ Anywhere, so it’s out o’ these diggin’s. Make for a railroad depot somewhere. Snatch a train, and digfor the city. Leave the team to take keer of itself. Wilson’s rich enough topay the piper. Now shoot, like greased lightnin’.” Will gathered the reins and shook up the lazy old creature, who bad been contentedly crop- ping the wayside grass, He soon vanished into the night, along the country road that opened before him, but certainly not with the speed of greased lightning as Tony had recommended. The latter returned toward the cottage, with the hope of in some way covering the retreat of his confederate. He bad scarcely reached it ere Dirk came plunging furiously out. Seeing the boy, he caught him savagely by the arm, with a low and fierce exclamation. ‘* You young sun of ascreech-owl!” he hissed. “So you're larkin’ round bere, are you? Isee through the whole trick now, blast my stupid brains! If you don’t put me instanter on the track o’ that devil’s cub [ll grind you intoa plaster, shoot me if Idon’t!” Dirk, as we have said, was sbrewd and quick- witted. He had been for the time deceived, and his senses befogged with fear, But the loss of his treasured documents had recalled his wits. They had not gone without hands, that he knew. Hands are usually connected with the face. The face he bad seen was not that of a specter, for specters do not carry off stray valu- ables. He saw through the trick at a flash. The boy was not drowned after all. He bad been rescued, and a trick devised with his aid. Who had rescued bim? Who but Jake Dumps! At this thought a recollection came to Dirk’s mind. He now knew why the room had been familiar to him. He was in Jake’s cottage. And the boy Tony?) He was inthescheme. Likea flash the meaning of the rescue, and of his mid- night ride, came to Dirk’s brain. ‘‘Mark Wilson again,” he said, striking bis forehead in anger at bis stupidity. ‘It’s a neat game, I swear! Hang ifI don’t show ’em that Dirk Dorgan’s no baby to be played with,” It was in this spirit that he had plunged again from the house, and caught Tony lurking in its vicinity.. His suspicions confirmed by this circumstance, be had broken out as. we have detailed. ‘*What’s bu’sted?’ queried Tony, without a shadow of fear. ‘‘ No use goin’ off half-cocked, as I kin see. Guess somethin’s got loose on yer insides, or you wouldn’t be raisin’ sich a ran- tankerous roar.” “The boy!” ejaculated Dirk, in short, thick tones. ‘Tell me where he is, instanter! [’)) not waste many words on you!” Tony recognized that it was a dangerous mo- ment. Dirk was in a humor that rendered trifling perilous, Yet Tony was bound not to sell his confederate, and he sought to shield him by a little square lying. | “Don’t see no use squeezin’ a feller’s life out,” he complained. ‘‘ Let go my collar, and Ill tell ou.” ‘Tell now, or—” Dirk raised his ponderous fist. ae Lang the boy jist out that be door,” began Tony. ‘He galloped past me like a colt, and struck ’cross toward the river front. Come along, and I'll show you jest how he went. I’ve got the documents! But .
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a Se “That way?’ asked Dirk, pointing across the , village, to a spot where a Hate revenion a small group of men. ** Jist so.” “Very well. Come ahead.” He started out, dragging Tony by the collar. The latter held back. ‘¢ Ye’re not goin’ the right way.” ‘** Ain’t 1?’ queried Dirk, grimly, as he strode on. ‘The right way, I s’pose, would be to guv myself up to them men, and be held fast while that young hound digs off? .You’rea keen little coon; but Dirk Dorgan ain’t to be fooled by a sand-snipe. Come on, now, and don’t make no noise, or I'll choke yer weasand. If that boy slides it’s goin’ to be bad fur your hide.” He was hurrying in an opposite direction from that into which Tony had sought to de- ceive him. They were quickly outside the vil- lage. i few steps more, and Dirk halted. He twisted the boy around until he faced him. ‘Now where’s that team?’ he asked, savagely. “Tt was hereabouts you left it. Jist point out the spot.” It was unsafe to prevaricate witha man in Dirk’s present humor. “This is the spot,” answered Tony, sullenly. 'Ye’re standin’ on it now.” ‘Where is the team then?” ‘*Can’t answer no conundrums. Strayed off, I reckon.” Dirk paid no attention to this answer. He was listening. The wind had for the moment lulled, and there came to his quick ears the faint sound of a rattling carriage wheel. “Thought so,” he declared. ‘‘ Ain’t quite a fool yet. That’s what’s come o’ the little rat. Bet you high I overhaul bim. Come ahead.” He paused and looked around, feeling the weight in his hand very light. To his surprise he held only an empty jacket. Tony had taken advantage of the moment’s inattention to slip out of his garment, and disappear into the darkness, A mocking laugh came to Dirk’s ars. *“*Good-by,” cried Tony’s voice from the shadows. ‘‘If you want to nab me, here I am, Bet I guv you a foot-race.” ; ‘Go to blazes!” exclaimed Dirk in a rage. *T know my game.” He burried off toward the point from which had come the sound of wheels. It was a double trail. While Dirk hurried after the fugitive in the carriage, Tony followed on foot in the rear. The wide-awake boy was bound to keep on the alert. He knew that Will would not find it easy to escape from his keen and vigorous pursuer. But two are better than one, and a friend in the rear is often a useful arrangement. The hours of the night went on, and daylight appeared. Will was not yet overtaken. He had managed, by the aid of a flexible switch, to get his old charger into a respectable speed. With the start he had he had left Dirk considerably in the rear. But the road was a straight one, without any branches, and the pursuer came on confidently. When daylight broke Dirk was sure of his ame. There were the fresh prints of wheels in the road. He continued his pursuit, with unflagging strength. Ata long distance in the rear came on Tony Thorne, just keeping Dirk within sight when some rising ground gave him a long outlook. Will, famished by his exertions through the night, stopped shortly after daybreak at a road- side house, and purchased a frugal breakfast. He also gave his tired horse a drink, and a nip at the grass. This morning rest lasted for half an hour, at the end of which time he put his unwilling steed again into motion. nother half-bour elapsed, and Dirk came up to Will’s halting- lace, The signs of a halt were unmistakable. ein his turn paused in his career, and entered the cottage. n old man sat in a corner en- gaged with bis morning pipe, and quite ready to answer Dirk’s questions. : A few words sufficed. The description which the old man gave of his preceding visitor brought a grin of satisfaction to Dirk’s rough face. It was Will Worth beyond a doubt. “Did he say where he was goin’ ?” asked Dirk. “ Why,” drawled the old man behind his pipe, “he was cur’us bout railroad depots and the like. I telled ’im the nighest was at Squam, ten miles furder. Reckon he’s gone there. This was enough. Dirk’s game lay clear be- fore him now. The fugitive had the start, and a horse’s legs to cary him, but there were short wuts across the country which Dirk well knew, Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective. and he staried off with confidence of nailing his game in Squam. ‘‘And I'll have them papers out o’ him then, if I have to squeeze out every oe of : his blood,” he savagely declared, as he left the road and took to the wayside field. Fifteen minutes afterward the old man was disturbed at his pipe by a third visitor, a stout- built boy, who asked nearly the same ques- tions as Dirk had put. The querulous old chap wasa little miffed at his multiplicity of visitors. “ Mought let a man ha’ his mornin’ pipe out, anyhow,” he grumbled. ‘‘Wonder how many more on ’em there are?” But he answered Tony’s questions, and gave him the hint of Squam as the ending point of this long chase. Tony, on entering the road again, stopped for a moment’s reflection. But his mind was quick- ly made up. Instead of continuing the pursuit he turned back. There was a new scheme in his brain. It was latein the morning when Will at length drove into the town of Squam. It was well he had not much further to go, for his horse was about on his last legs. For the last mile or two he had come at a dragging walk, and now seem- ed about ready to lie down and give up the ghost. ‘* Take good care of that noble beast,” exclaim- ed Will, as he sprung from the rickety gig in front of the country tavern around which were grouped the few houses of Squam. ‘ He’ll be called for. And now I want to get out of this town as quick as I gut in it. When does the next train go through?” “Which way?” “Any way. To New York, Philadelphia, or Jericho, I don’t care.” ** It’s half an hour to the next train.” Very good. I'll wait. Get me a bite to eat. Will quickly finished the plain meal set out before him. “You needn’t hurry,” said the landlord. ““You’ve got fifteen minutes yet, and it’s not five minutes’ walk to the station.” ‘*Guess Dll step over. You take good care of that horse. You'll be paid for your trouble. He will be called for in a couple of days. And now good-by. I am in a hurry to get out of this part of the State.” He turned toward the door, and made a step in advance. It was followed by two steps in retreat, while Will’s face grew suddenly white. And not without reason; for there stood Dirk Dorgan, a smile of insolent triumph on bis face. “Ye’re in a hurry to go, are you, my lad? Jist s’pose you make up yer mind to wait a bit, I’ve got a little crow to pick with you.” CHAPTER XI, A TURN IN THE GAME. To say that Will was startled does not half express it. He was overwhelmed, dumfounded, utterly upset with surprise at this extraordinary circumstance. Had Dirk Dorgan dropped from the skies, or shot up from the earth? No mat- ter how, he was there, at any rate, with a grin of malicious triumph on his face, and it did not take Will long to realize that he was in a very tight box. **Soho, my jolly young sprout,” said Dirk, with a sneering laugh. ‘* You thought you had the old bull by the horns, What do you think 0’ yerself, anyhow, my nimble little scapegal- lows? A neat ghost you are now. aren’t you?’ Will had been looking to the right and left, in a dazed fancy that some avenue of escape might open. But no chance appeared. He must face the music. At the thought he flung off the dismay that had for the moment mas- tered him, and regained bis vanished courage. “Get out of my way,” he haughtily demand- ed. ‘“‘How dare you obstruct my passage? Do you permit fellows like this to interfere with the movements of your guests?” he asked the landlord. The latter had been looking confusedly from one to the other of the contestants, at a loss what to make out of the scene. Will’s haughty demeanor now gave him his cue, ‘*No,” he declared. ‘‘Who the deuce are you, and what do you mean by stopping up my door?” he demanded of Dirk. ‘Get away from there now, and let this young gentleman pass, before I find the means to make you.” ‘Old cock and voung. Dunno which crows loudest,” sneered Dirk. ‘*‘Mebbe some on you’d like to put me outer the way. If you've got that notion, I’m agreeablo.” ‘“‘Threaten me, do you, fellow?’ stormed the wna 2 landlord. ‘ By cock and pie, you'll go if lsay the word! What do you want here? There were several stout fellows in the bar- room, and Dirk thought it expedient to haul iw his horns, ‘*Don’t git riled,” he soothingly remarked. ‘** Didn’t want to tech yer sore mS It’s only arter that boy I am, the rascally little thief!” ‘“‘ Thief!” exclaimed Will hotly. ‘‘I defy you to prove that [ve stolen anything from you.” * Thief!” repeated the landlord, with a ques- tioning look. ‘‘Jist so,” answered Dirk. ‘‘The young hound stole some valuable papers from me, and made tracks. Lucky I overhauled him, or there’d been the Old Nick to pay. What’s more he stole a horse and gig, that I s’pect is in your stables now.” **That’s so,” acknowledged the landlord. “So this is your game, is it, my lad? Trying to make me a receiver of stolen goods, eh?” “He lies!” rejoined Will angrily. ‘‘The horse and gig are all right, as you will find. As for the papers—” “Dig on,” broke in Dirk. ‘‘ What bout the papers?” “Tll band them over to the right owner. They'll not go eut of my care till then.” “You will, hey? cried Dirk. ‘ Ye’re a very accommodatin’ young person, you are. Pile ’em over then. I’ve a notion they’ll git in the right hands.” e stepped forward, and reached out his brawny hend for Will’s collar. The lad re- treated behind the landlord and his boon com- panions. ‘*T call on you for protection against this ruf- fian,” he demanded. At this appeal one of the men arose and con- fronted Dirk. ‘‘Hold your level, my good fellow,” he said, “‘Tt’s an ugly charge you bring. It needs to be proved.” “Tl prove it, then. Let the little thief hand you over the papers. If he can tell you what they are, he can keep them. If he can’t, and f tell you what’s in every one of them, they’re mine. Isn’t that square?” The men looked at each other with an air of concurrence. ** That sounds correct,” said the one who had spoken. ‘‘I don’t know any easier way of prov- ing property. Hand me the papers, boy, We'll see who can best describe them.” Will had listened to this conversation, but he had been listening more intently for sometbing else. It came at this instant, a long, shrill, iar-- off whistle. He now put onan air of defiance, as he edged: around toward the wall of the room. ‘‘They are not his papers, and I deny any right of his to see them,” ‘“*That won’t work, my lad,” declared the man severely. ‘‘He’s asking only for the square thing. Hand them over now, or we'll nays. to go through your pockets for the plun- er. At this moment the whistle came again, louder and nearer, an unmistakable locomotive signal. “Tf I must, I must,” rejoined Will, thrusting his hand into his pocket. ‘‘ But it’s an outrage, and Ill stick to that.” The man held out his hand, with a superior smile, for the documents. His face bad a look of wisdom that would have put Solomon to- shame. He was destined to be slightly surprised. In- stead of handing him the papers Will suddenly struck up his hand, and darted like a deer un- der bis outstretched arm. Ere Dirk could make a movement to intercept him he had shot past, and gained the botel door. “* Good-by,” he cried. Philadelphia.” Away he went, toward the railway station, which the whistling engine was now rapidly ap- proaching. A look of blank astonishment passed over the faces of the inmates of the bar-room, who had been completely deceived. Then, with a fierce oath, Dirk wheeled around on his heel, and put himself in rapid pursuit. Down the street they went, boy and man, while the men who had been left in the lurch streamed in a long line after. Will was active and swift, and darted on- ward like a young deer. His pursuer Jumbered after, quickly falling into the rear. It was evi- dent that he would not be able to overtake the boy. Meanwhile the sound of the coming engine grew momenterily louder. Unluckily Will was una locality of the station, and “You can find me in uainted with the: ” ad at first taker
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oo. - 12 Tony Thorne , th e Vagabond Detecti ve. the wrong direction. The sound of the train set him right, but he had lost considerable di:- tance, while Dirk, who knew the town, made ‘directly for the station. In consequence, when Will, out of breath, reached the platform, his stalwart enemy was not many feet behind him. The train was al- ready in and at rest, It would make no long stop at this small village. puff of the whistle announced that the train was on the point of starting. Will sprung for a car. His foot was on the step, and the train in motion. He looked over his shoulder with a triumphant glance at his pursuer, It was a risky moment. Dirk was nearer than Will had imagined. At that instant his heavy hand fell on the boy’s collar, a strong jerk tore him from his hold, and the train moved on, leaving Will held at full length of Dirk’s powerful arm. “* Weren’t so spry as you thought, you blessed oung coon,” said the captor, with a grim augh. ‘‘I’ve got you now, you katydid, and I'll have them papers, if I have to shake ’em out “of yer skin.” “You will, eh?” cried the resolute boy. *‘ Here, conductor; hold on to this!” With a rapid movement Will tore the roll of papers from his breast, and sent them with a quick fling to the conductor, who s:ood on the platform of the rear car, then just moving past. The surprised conductor grasped at the packet flung him, bending far over todoso. It struck his hand, but he failed to grasp it. It fell to the track bebind the departing train. Will had played bis last card, and had failed. Dirk released him and sprung for the package. He was too late. The man who had taken the gad in hand in the bar-room was ahead of im. “Just hold your horses,” exclaimed this in- dividual, as he picked up the fallen parcel. ‘‘I believe [ was appointed umpire of this little game. ‘‘ You’ve got to prove property, my gocd sir, before you touch this package. ‘Wasn’t that the bargain?” ‘Yes, yes,” replied the men to whom he had appealed. “*That’s my offer,” rejoined Dirk. goin’ back on it.” “That looks to me about the size of the job,” ‘broke in the landlord. ‘ But let's adjourn back to the hotel. There ain’t no more trains comin ane we'd best go through the thing judgmati- eal,’ This proposition seemed a wise one, and the party made their way back to their starting- oint. ¥ Will walked with them quietly enough. He ‘had done his best, and was defeated. There was no use struggling against fate; but he was determined not to lose sight of that interesting parcel while the ghost of a chance remained, ‘“‘Tt’s about time we were going back,” re- ‘marked the landlord, pointing ahead. ‘‘There’s a carriage with a neat bay horse at the botel door, I fancy I’ve been running away from guests.” They looked curiously at the horse as they assed. It wasa stranger, and as wet asif it ad taken along, hard journey. But there was other matter of more interest just now, and they crowded into the bar-room, in which there was no sign of new guests. “ We'll soon settle this jig,” remarked the ‘man with the papers, as he opened the package and examined them, ‘‘ There’s a number and a name at the head of each paper. The owner ought to be able to give these names. Your turn, my lad. What name is on number “one?” *T don’t know,” answered Will sullenly. The men exchanged significant glances. ‘“Itis your turn now,” the umpire said to Dirk. ‘‘ What is number one named?” “T’m not sure bout the numbers,” answered Dirk, standing witha firm grip on his chair; “but you bet I kin lay down the names. It’s my notion as number one is—” “Dirk Dorgan!” came a loud voice from the ‘rear door of the room, “ Hillo!” exclaimed the waterman, looking to see who had accosted him. There walked into the room a tall, strongly- ‘built man, with a very determined cast of coun- tenance. He movec resolutely forward. But Will had his eyes fixed on another and smaller figure that followed him. He could hardly repress a cry; it was no less a person than Tony Thorne, “T ain’t Will would have rushed toward him with an . exclamation, only for some very energetic sig- ‘nals from Tony, who drew back again into the @badow of the doorway. ‘Who are you?” exclaimed Dirk, looking in surprise at the new-comer, ‘“Somebody you don’t care to see,” was the stern answer, as the man’s hand fell on Dick’s shoulder. “I am the constable of Clarion county, and I arrest you for the murder of Will Worth.” Dirk glared at him in surprise. ‘* Arrest me? Murder? vby, here’s the boy now! How the blazes could he be murdered when he’s here?” The constable turned sharply to Will, whose face was strange to him. ‘““Who? This boy? Do you mean to declare that this is the boy whom you left last night to drown?” ‘*He wants to rob me,” declared Will, taking the cue. ‘‘ [ have some important papers here which he is trying to get from me.” “You lie! you reprobate,” cried Dirk. ‘‘There’s a boy that knows all’bout it,” pointing to Tony. ‘ Step up here, youngster, and tell the truth. Ain’t that the boy that they say I murdered?” Tony stepped forward, with a queer look on his face. e looked at Virk, and then at Will, as if puzzled. ‘* Won’t do, Dirk Dorgan,” he declared, shak- ing hishead. ‘‘ You can’t play no sich gum- game asthat. Didn’t s’pose 1 was gota to lie, to help you out, did you? You got hold of the wrong coon, now you mind.” hy, you blasted devil’scub!” roared Dirk, springing furiously at Tony. But before he could reach the boy he was caught by the constable, who, with a quick and skillful motion, slipped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists. “It’s a neat game, my man, but it won't work,” he sternly remarked. ‘‘ You'll go back to Micmac with me, if I have totake you in pieces. And you'll have to bring up a better witness than this lad before you get clear of a charge of murder.” He laid bis hand again heavily on the shoulder of the prisoner, who was utterly speechless witb rage. CHAPTER XII. IN THE HANDS OF THE LAW. ‘‘Nor proved. That’s the verdict,” remarked the man who had appointed himself umpire. “‘ Here, young man, | guess this is your proper- ty.” He returned Will the package of papers. ‘*Sorry we let ourselves be taken in by this fel- low.” In fact, the unexpected arrest of Dirk on a charge of murder had created «n intense excite- ment among the tenants of the bar-room, who retreated before Dirk’s glaring locksus if he had been an escaped tiger. And he would bave been as bad asa tiger to deal with, had not the con- stable so alertly slipped the handcuffs on his wrists. He was foamin glaring eyes reste boys, “Why, you infernal little hell-dogs!” he roar- ed, ‘have you got the cheek to stand up there and say you don’t know one another, and that this young rat ain’t the one I left on Pigmy Island? Hang my top-knot, if that ain’t the richest job I ever heerd on! Do you want to hang me, you white-livered scapegraces?” ‘*Wouldn’t be much loss,” answered Tony shortly. ‘‘ There’s often been better men bung.” ‘‘T ‘am very sorry,” chimed in Will, with a sly smile. ‘‘It will be a pity if you are ever hanged. But, you know, if you choose to get up a little comedy, you can’t expect everybody to play in it.” “Biast yer imperdent pictur’—” began Dirk, but he was suddenly cut short by the constable. ‘¢Come—come,” said the latter. ‘* There has been about enough of this, It was a neat game you tried, Dirk Dorgan, but it has failed. Back to Miemac you go, and without delay.” ‘*-Ye’re a blind fool, or ye’d see the boys was lyin’,” declared Dirk. ‘‘I’ll go, if yowll fetch them along. And hang the step Pll go with- out!’ Tony and Will had exchanged a few words in the mean time. “All right; we will go,” said the latter. ‘Mind you all, I baven’t said I’m the boy or ain’t the boy that Dirk tried to murder. That’s got to be settled before the magistrate. I sup- pose if I should say I was the boy, this gentle- man wouldn’t believe it.” ‘*Not much,” answered the constable shortly. fe Lota x7 | green enough to bo sold for an onion. e’ll all go back to Micmac together, and settle the business there, I will leave my with rage, while his little in impotent fury on the two horse here, landlord. There’s a train about due for Micmac; we’ll take that down,” Dirk fell into a sullen silence. He was satis- fied so long as Will was to go back with him. Once cleared of the charge of murder, be could force the boy to returao the stolen pip {n less than balf an bour afterward, the shore- bound train came whistling in. Within two minutes more it was off again, with our friends on board. An hour more passed by, and it came to a halt in the station of Micmac, within hear- ing of the roar of the sea, and with the odor of the ocean in the air. A curious crowd followed the party as they made their way through the streets of the sea- side town, Dirk still handcuffed and under the vigilant eyes of the constable, while Will and Tony walked close behind, A few minutes brought them to the magis- trate’s office, which was quickly filled by the thronging crowd. ‘What is the matter?” they asked one an- other. ‘Is this the murderer? He looks like it, by Jove!” Others were staring at Will, whom they rec- ognized as the missing boy. It was altogether a very odd affair, The hearing proceeded in an informal manner. The constable’s story was quickly told, the prisoner identified as Dirk Dorgan, the man who was charged with the murder of the miss- ing boy, and the magistrate began to write a commitment. ‘‘ Jis s’pose you hold yer hosses a bit,” growl- ed Dirk, now speaking for the first time. ‘‘There’s sich a thing as shootin’ ahead 0’ yer mark. I don’t see how, under the laws of these United States, a man kin be hung for murder- in’ a boy that’s still kickin’ in his skin. S’pose you explain how.” ‘* No insolence, sirrah!” roared the important magistrate. ‘‘ Whatdo you mean by this ridic- ulous speech?’ ‘‘T mean that the boy’s here, at your elbow. Ain’t got a hair rumpled on his head. I'd like ou to order this sharp coon to take these brace- ets off my wrists. Only that ma quietman I’d brained him with ’em afore now.” The puzzled magistrate rolled his eyes about the room, ‘“What does he mean?” he helplessly demand- ed. ‘*‘ Where is this boy?” ‘‘ Here,” cried pete Fes, pushing Will forward. ‘‘The prisoner tells the truth, sir. We can tes- tify that this is Will Worth, whom this man is accused of having murdered.” ‘Is that the fact?’ asked the astonished offi- cial, addressing Will. “Yes, sir,” replied the latter. ‘‘ He left me on Pigmy Island, I might have been drowned, but I wasn’t. Y was taken off in time to save Dirk Dorgan’s neck.” ‘Then what does this ridiculous business mean?” demanded the magistrate severely of the constable. ‘‘Why have you brought this man and boy before me?” ‘* Because I did not kuow the boy, and he de- nied that he was Will Worth.” “Excuse me. 1 did nothing of the kind,” averred Will. “Then this chap did.” ‘“Nary time,” answered Tony. beat ’round the bush a. trifle,” ‘*T’s a fool of a business right through,” cried the constable, in a rage. ‘“‘I have done my duty in arresting the man under the warrant in my bands, and bringing him in. Do you dis- charge him, your honor?’ ‘‘ Certainly. The prisoner stands discharged.” The constable quietly removed the handcuffs from Dirk’s wrists. The stalwart waterman shook himself with the energy of a Newfoundland dog, while a grin of satisfaction pervaded his broad face. ‘* Another time don’t go so fast, and you won’s have to eat dirt,” be sarcastically re- marked to the constable. ‘‘And now, your honor, I’ve got my charge to make. Don’t let that boy leave the room, Il charge him with stealing from mea package of valuable docu- ments, which he has with him at this present minute.” ** Aba!” exclaimed the surprised magistrate, ‘A charge of larceny. This is a serious matter. Secure that boy. This may as well be looked into now. Bring forward the defendant.” But Will did not wait to be secured. He walked boldly up to the magistrate’s desk. “T deny the charge,” he said. ‘‘I defy him to prove it.” * Not so fast. Not so fast,” cried the official, busily_ writing. ‘‘ Not a word from any one until I am ready to question you.” He con- tinued to write. “There! Now, my man, “We only
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‘ +, F J ‘make your charge. ; What are the particulars of this alleged larceny?” Dirk described the loss of bis papers and his efforts to recover them, in somewhat confused language. The magistrate turned to Will, who stood in an easy and confident attitude, await- ing his questions. ‘Don’t look like a thief,” muttered the offi- cial. ‘Well, young man, what have you to say to this charge?” “Tt is a tissue of nonsense from beginning to end,” answered Will. ‘‘I have stolen nothing from this man.” “You have the papers,” cried Dirk. ‘‘The constable here saw them in Squam,” “You have not proved that they are yours,” rejoined Will, easily. ‘‘I did have a roll of papers, your honor, which this man claims. I icked them up on the floor of a room in Jake umps’s cottage, where some one had dropped them.” “Tt was I dropped ’em there, and well you know it,” roared Dick. “Silence!” severely commanded the magis- trate. ‘This is a strange accusation. But the papers themselves should show who is their rightful owner. Pass them up to me, young man, I will take charge of them until their ownership is proved.” : ‘Iam sorry,” began Will, in an easy tone; “but I am not able to do so.” ‘Not able? Why not?” “ Because they are no longer in my possession. I have returned them to the man in whos house [ found them by the hands of his nephew, Tony Thorne.” This quiet declaration made an excitement in the office of the magistrate. “It is a lie!” cried Dirk, harshly. ‘“ He has them about him. I demand that he be search- ed. And fetch up the other boy, that young imp, Tony.” ut Tony was not to be found. Just when he had left the room nobody knew, but he was certainly gone, And with him had gone Dirk’s treasured documents, as Will’s easy demeanor proved. There was another [serious checkmate to the old raseal’s game. “You can search me,” said Will, quietly. “I have no objections. But I am afraid you won’t find any stray valuables on my person.” ‘* Where’s the other young rat?’ cried Dirk, in a fury. ‘‘He’s got my papers! Make a track, there, gentlemen. I'll have them if I have to squeeze every ounce o’ blood out of his dirty carcass.” He turned and plunged through the mass of people with such vigor that they drew back in hasty alarm, as if a mad bull had charged into their midst. In a moment he was in the street, plunging poche f onward. The others rushed out after him, curious to see the end of the race, Tony was nowhere in sight, but Dirk pg forward in a straight line, as if he had a definite idea in his brain. His course, in fact, led directly toward the railroad depot. He was sharp enough to know that the holder of those documents was through with his business in Micmac. He had not gone far, however, ere the sharp elang of a bell, was followed by the short, impa- tient puff of an engine whistle. The rumble of rolling wheels came to their ears. It was the out- ing train, bound for Philadelphia, and already ond the reach of pursuit. — Dirk stopped in his mad flight. He grasped bis bair with an angry jerk, as if he would pull it out by the roots. “The young rat’s in it,” he declared. ‘ He’s too wide awake to stay in the same town with Dirk Dorgan with them papers in his pocket. Mark Wilson scores one, but he ain’t won the game yet, Blast my eyes, if I don’t show him that I’ve got another shot in my locker!” — He hastened to the river-side, flung himself into a boat and crossed over to the old town, Here he sought his cottage, and at once began to put things in order for an extended absence. The story of his acquittal had crossed the river before him, and his fellow-watermen merely stared at him, without attempting to molest bim. The next outgoing train for Philadelphia took in it two more of our characters as passen- gers, Will Worth and Dirk Dorgan. CHAPTER XIII. TONY GETS IN HIS WORK. We must precede the flight of our characters from the town by the sea to the yn of ng Brotherly Love, to which they were all ro at railroad speed. In the office of the large mercantile establish- Tony Thorne, the Vaz 13 abond Detective. ment of Wilson & Brown sat the two members of the firm in company with another personage, a keen-eyed, sharp-faced individual. They were engaged in earnest conversation, the third person of the party listening with close attention to the remarks of his compan- ions. ‘*You see how the affair stands now,” re- marked Mr. Wilson. ‘I fear it was an idle scheme of mine to send the boys down there. I have received no advices from there yet, and have come to the conclusion that they will be no match for the shrewd villain with whom they have todeal. I even fear that he may do them a harm if be discovers their errand, for he is a violent character. For that reason I sent for you.” ““To go down and look after the safety of the boys?” “Yes; and try to get at Dirk Dorgan’s secret.” *‘T see; Isee. Very well, I am open for the job. But I cannot go it blind. I must know ail the circumstances of the affair so that I can work intelligently, Nothing is to be picked up by groping in the dark.” “You are right,” rejoined Mr, Wilson, “I don’t like to open old sores, but of course you must learn the story of my life ere you can know how toact. I am of English birth, Mr. Morgan, as perhaps you may know.” ‘Exactly, sir. Proceed,’ ‘*T inherited a valuable estate in England, married there, and had one child, a charming little boy. You will excuse me if I make this story very short. Among the servants whom I employed was one Dirk Dorgan, a surly fellow who had been a sailor in his time, and bore a very doubtful character. I did not know his reputation until afterward, but found him a difficult customer to get along with, and had to reprimand him very severely on several occa- sions. Finally, for some insolence, I knocked the fellow down with a cane, and discharged him from my service.” “Nothing uncommon in that,” remarked Mr. Morgan. ‘*He was of a violent temper, and sought to gain revenge. He assailed me, in fact, and injured me severely, for which he was arrested, and sentenced to a year’s imprisonment. Such is the first chapter of my story.” ware deadly revenge against you, I sup- se “So I understand. But before he was re- leased from prison I had left England. A com- mercial enterprise into which I had entered obliged me to makea hasty journey to America, I had only intended my visit to be temporary. But on arriving here I found asplendid business opening, that induced me to remain. My wife had continued in England, and I employed her in disposing of my property there, ere joining me in America. In consequence of this a year elapsed before she set sail tor this country, with my child, in the barque Emma, a vessel belong- ing to the mercantile house of which I was a partner.” “Dirk meanwhile had been released?” queried Mr. Morgan, ‘“Yes, and had come to this country, where he had sevtled asa fisherman on the coast. I have reason to believe that he still retained his project of rev-nge against me. He unhappily ained a splendid opportunity to carry it out. n a fearful storm, now about seventeen years ago, the barque Emma was wrecked on the New Jersey coast, and nearly every soul on board swallowed up by the merciless sea. She was lured to the coast by false lights, if we are to believe some of the watermen of the coast, who do not hesitate to blame Dirk for the work. However, that remains unproved. At all events she went to pieces, and my poor wife went to the bottom with her.” He pauced in emotion. Mr. Morgan looked at him in sympathy, and asked: “The boy? Was be saved?” “There were only two souls came ashore alive. A sailor and my child. He was carried by the sailor, but was taken from him while he was in aswoor. He has never been seen since.” “That is very strange,” remarked Mr. Mor- gan. ‘‘ Does no one know what was done with the child, or who obtained it?” “Not a soul knows. All we know is that Dirk Dorgan disappeared that night from the village of Micmac, and was absent for several weeks. He then returned and resumed his old life, as if nothing bad happened,” ‘You are sure the rescued child was yours?” “Oh yes! The sailor is still alive, and has testified to that.” “It is a strange story. You have made ke you say, to discover the truth from irk?” ‘‘Many. But all useless. Iam satisfied that he has proofs concealed that would put me om the track of my child, if they could be obtained. Ihave sent the boys down on a last effort to get these proofs. It is the same mission which wish you to undertake.” “It is a doubtful enterprise,” remarked Mr. Morgan, shaking bis head. ‘‘ We might arrest him and search his premises, but I imagine it would be useless. Such men know well the art of concealing. As for inducing him to reveal his secret there is hardly a forlorn hope of that, Possibly some happy chance—such chances do occasionally occur. Atallevents nothing tried, nothing won. I will go.” “T have but slight bopes of success,” an- swered Mr. Wilson mournfully. ‘‘ Yet it is likely that the boys may have made Dirk’s ac- ser by this time, and through their aid—’ He was interrupted by the opening of the door, which was flung back with as much vigor as if it had been struck by a battering-ram. The space was filled with no less a person than Tony Thorne, who stood there with sparkling, eyes, and flushed face. ‘‘Here I am!” he cried. ‘‘ Right side up with care! Jolly as a rooster, and wide-awake as a. June-bug! Bet you high that Tony and Will are the Tads! If we ain’t gone through Dirk Dorgan like a cat through a milk-pan, then there’s no use talkin’, that’s all.” “What's the matter, boy?’ Mr. Brown sprung up and grasped him by the arm, ‘* Have you lost your senses? What ails you?” “Guess my brain-pan’s sound,” answered Tony shortly. ‘* Then what do you mean?” asked Mr. Wil- son eagerly. ‘‘Have you been successful? Have you got the—” “There they are,” exclaimed Tony, slam- ming the package of papers on the table with a. thunderin’ slap, ‘‘Fetched’em, you bet! Will and Tony are the boys. Gothrough ‘em instan- ter, for old Dirk is arter me like a nigger arter a possum. He'll sp’ile the game if he gets his play in afore you.” Tony sunk into a chair, utterly exhausted with his haste and his excitment. The remain: ing members of the party were not less excited. Mr. Wilson seized the package with trembling fingers, opened it, and scattered the papers it contained loosely over the table. He snatched up the first of these that came to his hand, and hurriedly examined it. Then, with a flushed face and gleaming F dba he — up and seized Tony impulsively by the ands, “The thanks of a father on you, my lad,” he fervently exclaimed. ‘‘They are the desired proofs. ce 4 will put me on the track of my stolen son. Do not fear but I will repay you richly for this service.” “Guess I’ve had my swered Tony indifferently. It was him snatched the dockyments. lawsee! ain’t we had aroyal old time! Yow best believe.” “Examine them, Mr. Morgan and Mr. Brown,” cried the excited father. ‘Dirk has been kind enough to preserve written state- ments of all his operations, as I had reason to think. These are inour bands now. He has furnished us the means of defeating his schemes.” The other gentlemen examined the papers carefully. After doing so Mr. Morgan looked out in fun,” an~ **Best pay Will. And up. ‘* There will be no need of going to the shore for evidence,” be said. ‘‘ We have it here, in black and white. But wehave not the child yet. It seems by these papers that Dirk placed her in charge of a woman named Rebecca Luke, in this city. That woman must be found, and quickly, before Dirk can see her. Did you say he was following you?” he asked Tony. ‘‘Calk’late he is. I left him in Micmac, but TI bet high he’s arter me on the next train. What did you say the woman’s name was?* There was an odd twinkle in Tony’s eye. “‘Rebecca Luke,” replied the detective quick- ly. ‘Do you know her?” ‘ No,” ‘answered Tony. ‘‘I’ve a_ notion, though, I kin git on her track afore she’s muck older.” His face was full of the Jight of ashrewd idea. “Do so, then, as quick as possible. Mean- while I will set the machinery of the police force at work to discover her. If she is in “this city I will promise to trace her in the next five or six hours.”
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Sr $e ee a > Lo Ee oe ~ Sister) asa or a et ee due in three hours,” declared Tony. = | ? is . - eae > —— ane : hin iliac Ui lea oD Ra a . Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Dete ctive. * And the next train from Micmac will be “That fetches Dirk. Dirk goes and puts mischief in this woman’shead. The game’sallup, Five or six hours won't do.” ‘‘Come witb me, boy,” cried Mr Morgan. ‘‘- You know Dirk. We will watch the train. Put me on his track once, and I promise to dis- count bis little game. Come on, there sre no min- utes tospare now. We must strike while the iron is hot.” He hastened from the office, followed by Tony. Butthe Jatter was much the less excited of the two. There was evidently a queer idea at work in bis brain, which brought a sly smile every few minutes to his lips. Tony was un- doubtedly working up a little game of his own, that was warranted to discount the detective’s ‘sharpest scheme. CHAPTER XIV. DIRK BLOCKS THE DETECTIVE’S GAME, In a meanly-furnisbed room ina tumble-down house, in a southern section of the city, sat a wrinkled and ill-favored old woman, who look- ed as if she had grown old rather through vice than years. She was rocking herself in a creak- ing old chair which threatened to go to pieces with every movement. As she rocked, she hummed to herself in a cracked voice some ditty of her youthful days. “The ungrateful young divil!” she sourly muttered to herself. ‘‘He ran away and left me, he did. If he’d only knowed, he’d not been so quick. I’ll pinch him yet—lI’ll pinch the un- grateful brat till he bowls!” She closed her thumb and finger with a spite- ful movement, as if she had a morsel of livin flesh between them, There was something crue ‘in the glare of her twinkling eyes. Ere she could say more the door was flung quickly open, and a man hastily broke into the room. It was the stalwart form of Dirk Dor- an. . “Quick!” he cried. “I am tracked by the police. My papers are stolen; I trust to you to save the whole game!” The woman sprung to her feet with an alert energy. She seemed to have regained ber youthful vigor, “Dirk!” she exclaimed. ‘You here?—and tracked? Speak—quick! What am I to do?” ‘‘Swear you never saw the boy—you had no bo ” * Pish! It won’t do,” she cried sneeringly. ** There’s dozens know it. And they’ve got the papers you was fool enough to keep. It won’t do. ” “¢ You’ve lost sigat of him, then,” Dirk hastily continued. ‘‘He ran away, years ago. You don’t know where in the world he is.” ‘“‘That’s better.” She nodded approvingly, as she sunk back in her chair, ; “Stick toit,” cried Dirk. ‘‘ You know me, Beccy. Don’t dare go back on me.” Ere more could be said the door seein opened and the tall, athletic form of Mr. Morgan en- ‘tered. He looked knowingly from one to the other of the two persons present. “Dirk Dorgan,” he said, ‘‘I am bappy to make your acquaintance. Mrs. Luke, your most obedient. Iam sorry I was not a little sooner, as I would have enjoyed the short con- versation you have been having together.” ‘*Who are you?” Dirk harshly demanded. ** What do you want?” “Suppose you let the lady of the house answer that question,” replied the officer. ‘‘ As for who IT am you will soon know,” He turned to the door and madeasign. A policeman entered. ‘Take care of this man.” He pointed to Dirk. *‘ Beware,” he continued. “I have a warrant in my pocket against a certain Dirk Dorgan for child-stealing. Keep quiet if you don’t want to get into mischief.” Dirk turned slightly pale at this pointed warning, yet he retained his scornful expression of countenance. ‘*Go ahead,” he remarked, fere.” ‘‘Then you have done the mischief I feared already,” rejoined Mr. Morgan, with a threaten- ing look at the stolid ruffian. ‘It is a long lane that bas no turning, Dirk Dorgan, as you may find ere you are done with me.’ He turned to the old woman, who had con- tinued to rock herself during this conversation. “Now, Mrs. Luke, I want some information from you,” began the officer, in a stern tone. “You will find it to your advantage to answer ame clearly and truthfully. Seventeen years “T won’t inter- ago a child, then not more than a year old, was placed in your charge. Where is that child now?” He bent bis brows threateningly upon the old woman, asif he desired to intimidate her into making some damaging admission. But he did not know his party. Mrs, Luke put on a eam expression, and broke out in a bigh ey: “Tf you'll only bring bim back to his old aunty again, I'll forever bless your sweet face,” she cried, in strained accents. ‘‘Do I remem- ber the boy? It’s welllrememberbim. [ve not had a night’s sleep since be ran away from me, the blessed young thafe, Oh, wirra! but it was a bitter pill for me. I loved the little lad like he’d been my own. Och! that he could ever leave his old aunty!” ‘““Where is he now?’ asked Mr. Morgan, sternly. ‘‘Sorra the one of me knows! It’s a good ten years since I set eyes on the blessed rap- scallion. And I’m always afeared my dead and gone sister will rise from her grave to ax what I’ve done with her boy. But, indeed, I treated the ungrateful lad like he was an an- gel; and it’s never my fault that he went to the a The officer turned his shrewd eyes from Dirk’s stolid face to the lugubrious countenance of the old woman, ‘* Your sister? What has she to do with it?” Mrs. Luke drew the back of her band across her eyes, as if to wipe away a tear. ‘“*Wasn’t it my own sister Maggie’s son, as was married to Dirk’s brother bere? Ah, me, what a pretty galshe was! They are both dead years agone, the more’s the pity. Dirk took the baby and brought it to me to fetchup, Ab, wirra! but I’ve done my duty badly.” Mr. Morgan’s brows contracted es he con- tinued to look in Mrs. Luke’s whining face, He answered, sternly: “That story won’t do, my good woman. It is a tissue of lies from beginning toend. If you are wise you will tell the truth honestly. I know far more of your history than you imag- ine, but I will give you a chance to redeem ourself without further trouble. Make aclean reast of it, and you will be made comfortable for the remainder of your life; continue to lie, and you go to prison,” ‘*Me lie, is it? It’s lucky for you I’m a weak old woman, or I'd tear your eyes out fer the in- sult. Oh, mercy on me! I’ve lived till this day to be called aliar by a cream-faced rapscal- lion like this! An old woman with gray hairs! To,tbink of the shame of it!” She rocked herself violently, with her hands to her eyes, from which she seemed to be seek- ing to force tears, r. Morgan turned suddenly to Dirk, on whose face lurked a sneering smile. **'You have a neat confederate,” he remarked. ‘*Sbe has been taught her story well. I might believe ber but that I have evidence in your own handwriting to the contrary. You will go with me.” ‘* Where?” ‘*Where I please. To prisonif Ilike. Your only bope for liberty is in telling the truth.” ‘Go ahead,” said Dirk, defiantly. ‘‘I dare you to prove anything against me.” Mr. Morgan turned to the policeman. ““You take charge of the old lady, Mr. Jones. Don’t let her out of your sight. I will send an officer with a search-warrant to search her house.” ‘Search my house!” exclaimed Mrs, Luke, angrily. ‘‘ And for what, you insulting black- guard?” ‘* For the baby clothes of the child that was left in your care,” CHAPTER XV. THE LAST TUNE OF A VIOLIN. Iv was the day succeeding that in which the events just described had taken place, In the private office of Wilson & Brown a group of per- sons was gathered. These consisted of the two members of the firm, of Dirk Dorgan and Mrs, Luke, of the detective, Mr. Morgan, and one or two other persons connected with the mercantile establishment. A long conversation had taken place, but with little effect, Dirk was still ptt fain obstinate. As for Mrs, Luke neitber promises or threats had any effect on her. She alternated between whining .and abuse, until the shrewd detec- tive was at his wits’ end how to get to the bot- tom of the lie which he knew she was telling. “We havea clear case against these persons, Mr. Wilson,” he remarked. ‘‘ Your recognition of the child’s clothes, and trinkets, which were found in Mrs Luke’s house, to be those worn by your son, is satisfactory evidence.” He pointed to a small heap of garments onthetable, “ The sailor who brought the child ashore has seen and recognized them. I have found plentiful evidence tbat this woman had the child in her keeping, and that she treated him with shame- ful cruelty. He was forced to go out as a beg- ging fiddler, and beaten cruelly if he did not bring in the amount of money she demanded, No wonder he ran away. But I will trace him yet a3 the fiddle.” ‘‘ He stole it, the dirty young thief,” declared the old woman shrewisbly. ‘‘ He stole it, and ran away, the little blackguard! Oh wirra, if I only had my two bands on the fiddle again, that belonged to my own dead son!” ‘Ts this it, Mother Luke?” It was a youthful voice that spoke. Tony Thorne stood before the old woman, holding up a diminutive, sadly-cracked violin. She glanced at the musica! instrument with wild-staring eyes, and then snatched it eagerly from his hands, while a pulse of real emotion passed over her wrinkled face. “Tt is mine! It is mine!” she ejaculated pressing it eagerly to-her bosom. ‘‘ Many and many a time have I gone to sleep to its music, It is my own that | loved as much as I hated the runaway brat that stole it. Nobody shall ever-take it from me again.” Here was a decided change in the programme, Every eye was fixed on the old lady, who bad at last been moved to a truthful expression, and on the boy, who stood before her with a very knowing look on his shrewd young face. Mr. Morgan quickly took the cue, He turned to Tony with a surprised countenance, ‘*So you were on the track all the time, you keen young rogue,” he exclaimed. ‘*‘ Where a you get the fiddle? You know the missing y? * You bet!” answered Tony. Two men sprung forward, Dirk and Mr. Wil- son, each grasping one arm of the boy. “You young liar,” hissed the first. ‘' Look out that 1 don’t burst your poll.” ‘You know my son!” cried the second, ‘‘ Ob! where is he? Restore bim to my arms!” ‘*Don’t swaller me up alive,” cried Tony, sourly, as he jerked loose from the two bands that held him, ‘‘It’s jist as you say, Mr. Wil- son. I kin lay my hands on your son. Nailed him last night, as soon I heard that Mrs, Luke was the woman as had bim.” ‘Where is he? Bring him to me!” cried the excited futher. ‘**Look out for a surprise, then, for you know him better than I do. Jist look sharp for a queer old eye-opener. Come in here,” he cried, with a raised yoice, ‘‘ You’re wanted by your daddy!” All eyes were turned to the door of the office, at bis call. To their utter astonishment, there walked in the graceful form of Will Worth, with a look of modest hope on his intelligent young face. Ere a word could be spoken, Mother Luke had sprung forward and caught the boy by the arm, while her bleared eyes ardently surveyed his face. The incident of the violin had somebow roused new thoughts and emotions in ber mind, and she was a different woman from what she had been ten minutes before. “Ttis he! It is he!’ she cried. ‘The boy I brought up and who ran away from me. Ah! the ungrateful scamp, arter all I’d done fer him! But I’ve got my fiddle back. Nobody shall ever have it again, It is mine, mine!” She released Will’s arm, and hugged the re- covered treasure to her breast, as if she, too, had found a lost child. Mr. Wilson stood for a moment ina state of utter bewilderment. “Will! Will Worth!” he cried. ‘‘ He my lost son? Ah, beis! heis! I was always drawn to him! I always loved him! Cong to my arms, my boy! My long-lost son!” namoment he had Will clasged in a close embrace, while tears ran profu@ly from his eyes, as be bent bis head-in an attitude of pray- er over the lost that had been found, the waif : of the sea, thus surprisingly returned to his arms. We need not dwell upon this strange finale to our long tale of a boy’s life. It was an ex- traordinary turn of circumstances that the lad whom Mr. Wilson had himself brought up into a business life, and bad chosen to aid bim in the search for bis abducted child, should him- self prove to be that child, returned to bim. in this surprising manner, Even Dirk’s harsh face
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\ af yt d Fat “4 4 ie ty 1, “i. yo r a i . 0 we try Be ay * ae Ly could not repress a trace of emotion at this re- markable turn of destiny. The reader will forgive usif we quickly dis- miss our characters. e have reached the last scene of the play, and there is no need to keep the actors posturing before the curtain. It wil! suffice to say that Dirk was convicted of the crime of child-stealing, and sentenced to an im- zrisonment of ten years in the State peniten- tiary. As for his confederate, it could not be proved that she knew the child to be stolen, and she was necessarily acquitted. Mr. Wilson, over whose life a cloud had so long hung, was supremely happy once more in the recovery of his lost son, and the m-re so that the poor boy had passed unscathed through the fire of poverty and crime, and emerged as worthy in nature as in name from ‘the perils of a Me Sige life. The happy father was not ungrateful. He had wealth enough to make comfortable all who had aided in the searcdo for his lost son. The market-man who had been so kind to Will in his boyish vagrancy has been given a boost in business that has made him aman for life, and as for Jake Dumps he blesses the day in which his new-found nephew came tohim. He has no longer need to fish for a living. Tony Thorne has ceased to be @ scaps-graca street boy. Well educated, and broken from his old habits, he has long been a prominent salesman in the store of Wilson & Brown, where his shrewdness has enabled him to make his mark in the business world. He and Will have become the closest of friends, and are not likely soon to forget the great mill with Jimmy Jones, which first brought them together. It is very likely that they willin time succeed the older members of the firm, as parties in the wealthy commercial house of Wilson & Brown, THE END. Beatle's Half-Dime Library. BY HARRY HAZARD, S28 Arkansaw Jack; or, The Scourge of the Mines. 829 Red-Skin Tom; or, The Demon’s Trail, 842 The Mountain Devil; or, Yellow Jack, the Outlaw. BY WILLIAM !l. EYSTER,. 90 Dandy Darke; or, The Tigers of High Pine. 10 Faro Frank}; or, Dandy Darke’s Go-Down Pards, 1 2 BY W. J. HAMILTON, 68 The Red Brotherhood ; or, The Twelve Avengers. 66 Single Hand; or, A Life for « Life. 72 Mad Tom Weatern, the Texan Ranger. 887 Ben Bird, the Cave King; or, Big Pete’s Scoop. BY FREDERICK DEWEY. 818 Cimarron Jack, the King-Pin of Rifle-Shots. ATS Tangemund, the Desert Detective. 542 The Canyon Pards. BY LIEUT. H, D. PERRY, U. 8. N. 176 The Boy Runaway; or, The Buccaneer of the Bay. 180 The Sea Traller; or, A Yow Well Kept. 192 Captain Kit; or, The Mystery of Montauk Point. BY GEORGE C. JENKS. ASS Git Thar Owney, the Unknown. a, 492 Git Thar Owney’s Pledge. 518 The Demon Doctor. BY CAPT. ALFRED B. TAYLOR, TU. 8. A. 11 Dutale Billy, the Boy Bullwhacker; or, The Doomed rteen. 194 Buffalo Bill's Bet; or, The Gambler Guide. BY COLONEL DELLE SARA. 108 The Lion of the Sea; or, The Vailed Lady. 186 Cool Desmond; or, The Gambler’s Big Game, BY JOHN J. MARSHALL. 40 Roving Ben. A Story of a Young American. 97 The Outlaw Brothers; or, The Captive of the Harpes. BY BRACEBRIDGE HEMYNG. 89 Inland Jim: or, The Pet of the Family. 91 The Captain of the Club; or. The Rival Athletes. 101 Jack Harkaway in New York. BY FRANK DUMONT. 120 The Branded Hand; or, The Man of Mystery. 127 Wild-Fire, the Boss of the Road 140 Blue Blazes; or, The Break o’ Day Boys of Rosky Bat 171 Ebony Dan; or, The Rival Leagues. " 185 Evil Eve; or, The Vultures of the Rio Grande. BY MAJOR LEWIS W. CARSON, 278 The Three Trappers; or, The Mountein Mooster. 288 Indian Joe; or, The White Spirit of the Hills. BY WM. G@, PATTEN. ASS The Diamond Sport: or, The Double Face of Bed Rock. 519 Captain Mystery ; or, Five in One. 531 Dalny aes, the Sport ‘from Denver. Tony Thorne, the Vag | j | | 15 abond: Detective. BY JACK FARRAGUT. 815 Ned, the Cabin Boy. 8320 The Sea Sorceress; or, The Boy Skipper. BY MAJOR HENRY B. STODDARD, Ex-Scout. 806 Neck-Tie Ned; or, The Dug-Out Pards. 846 Rapler Raphael; or, The Swordsmen of Zacatecas. BY1L Kid-Glove Kit, the Dandy of the Rockies, 898 Kid-Glove Kit and Pard; or, The Gold King. 406 ann Mad Man-Hunter; or, The Mystery of Golden yuich, B05 Powell’« Pard; or, The One-Armed Giant. BY CAP. J. F. ©. ADAMS, 84 Oregon Sol; or, Nick Whiffles’s Boy Spy. 46 Glass-Eye, the Great Shot of the West. 54 Ned Hazel, the Boy Trapper. 56 Nick Whitiies’s Pet; or, Ir The Valley of Death. 60 The White Indian; or, The Scout of the Yellowstone, 70 Old Zip’a Cabin; or, The Greenhorn in the Woods. 1 Rishtales Jo, the Terror of the Prairie. 85 Buck Buckram; or, Bess, the Female Trapper, 247 Old Grizzly and His Pets; or, The Wild Huntress. 251 Light-house Lige; or, Osceola, the Firebrand. The Lost Hunters; or, The Underground Camp. 288 The Scalp King; or, The Human Thundervolt. BY ROGER STARBUCK, 25 The Boy Captain; or, The Pirate’s Daughter. 114 The Black Schooner; or, Jib Junk, the Old Tar. 259 The Golden Harpoon; or, Lost Among the Floes. 848 Fire-Meels} or, Old Skinflintythe Death-Shadow. 854 Big Horn Ike, the Hill Tramp; or, The Odd Pards, 861 The Phantom Light-house, B70 Breaker Ben, the Reef-Runner. BY HARRY 8ST. GEORGE. 80 Roaring Ralph Rockwood, the Ranger. 44 Rattling Rube; or, The Nighthawks of Kentucky. bY Old Hickory; or, Pandy Ellis’s Scalp. 108 Daring Davy ; or, The Trail of the Salas Wolf. 166 Hickory srk? § $ or, The Trapper-Brigade’s Spy. 172 Thunderbolt Tom: or, the Wolf-Herder. BY JO PIERCE, 897 Bob o’ the Bowery ¢ or, The Prince of Mulberry Street. 415 The Vagabond Detective; or, Bowery Bob’s Boom. 452 Hotspur Bob, the Street-Boy Detective. 460 The Lawyer’s Shadow; or, Luke’s Legaty. A72 Jaunty Joe, the Young Horse-King. 494 Surly Sim, the Young Ferryman Detective. 504 Five Points Phil. 509 Jack Jaggers, the Butcher Boy Detective. 516 Tartar Tim; or, Five Points Phil’s Menagerie. 526 North River Nat, the Pier Detective, 588 Wrestling Rex, the Pride of the Sixth Ward, 541 Jeff Flicker, the Stable Boy Detective. BY EDWARD 8. ELLIS. 6 Bill Biddon, bag 8 Seth Jones; or, The Captives of the Frontier, 10 Nat Todd or, The Fate of the Sioux Captive. 1 The Frontier Angel. 8 The Boy Miners; or, The Enchanted Island. 182 The Hunted Hunter; or, The Strange Horseman. 254 The Half-Blood; or, The Panther of the Plains. 1 The Muge Hunter; or, The Steam Prairie Yan. BY BUCKSKIN SAM:(Major Sam. 8. Hall.) 284 Old Rocky’s ‘ Boyees 3” or, Benito, the Young Horse- Breaker. 246 Glant George; or, The Ang’! of the Range. 275 Arizona Jack 3; or, Giant George’s Pard. 297 The Tarantula of Taos: or, Giant George’s Revenge. 807 The Strange Pard; or, Little Ben’s Death Hunt. 818 Ker-whoop, Ker-whoo; or, The Tarantula of Taos. 827 Creeping Cat, the Caddo; or, The Red and White Pards. 882 Frio Fred: or, The Tonkavtay’s Trust. 844 The Fighting Trio; or, Rattlesnake, the Tonkaway. 849 Wild Wolf’; or, Big-Foot Wallace to the Front. 857 The Ranch Raiders; or, The Siege of Fort Purgatory, 864 Snap-Shot, the Boy Ranger. 875 Chiota, the Creek; or, The Three Thunderbolts. 881 Randera BIll; or. Frio Frank to the Front. 892 Romeo and the Reds; or, The Beleaguered Ranch. 404 Little Lartat; or, Pecan Pete’s Big Rampage. 414 The Dalsy from Denver. A427 The Three Tratlers; or, Old Rocky on the Rampage. 442 Bluff Bill; or, The Lynx of the Leona. 455 Little Lone Star; or, The Belle of the Cibolo, BY ALBERT W. AIKEN, 11 The Two Detectives; or, The Fortunes ofa Bowery Girl. 76 Abe Colt, the Crow-Killer. 79 Sol Ginger, the Giant Trapper. 288 Joe Buck of Angels and His Boy Pard. New York Nat. A Tale of Tricks and Traps in Gotham, 458 New England Nick; or, The Fortunes of a Foundling. 464 Nimble Nick, the Circus Prince. 493 Taos Ted, tne Arizona Sport. 510 Cool Colorado, the Hall-Breed Detective. 515 Cool Colorado in New York. BY PHILIP 8. WARNE. 67 Patent-Leather Joe: or, Old Rattlesnake, the Charmer. 175 Gaptam Arizona; or, Patent-Leather Joe's Big Game. 198 Captain Mask; or, Patent-Leather Joe’s Defeat 219 Desapard, the Duellat; or, The Mountain Vompires. 888 A Tough Boy; or, The Dwarf’s Revenge. 868 Little Tornado; or, The Outcasts of the Glen. BIB Little Jingo; or, the Queer Pard. 888 Little Oh-my 3 or, Caught in His Own Trap, AO1 Little Shoo-F ly; or, A Race for a Ranch. 408 Little Leather-Breeches ¢ or, Old Jumbo’s Curse, 481 Little Ah Sing or, The Curse of Blood, 451 Colorado Kate. A Tale of the olines. 480 Three Jolly Parda, Bi? Jim Gladden’« Deputy. 527 The Jolly Pards to the Rescue. BY EDWARD WILLETT. 167 Aaa Scott, the Steamboat Boy. 199 Featherwelght_ the Boy Champion of the Muskingum. 228 Ozark Alf: or, Featherweight Among the Outlaws. 2R2 The Typo Detective: or, Weasel, the Boy Tramp. 295 Fearless Phils or. The King of Quartzville, $11 The Roving Sport; or, The Pride of Chuckaluck Camp, 822 Nemo, the Detective; or, Kit Kenyon's Vendetta. 840 Clip, the Contortioniat; or, The Montana Vigilantes. BY JAMES L. BOWEN 107 One-Eyed Sim; or, The Abandoned Forest Home. 110 The Black Steed of the Prairies. A Story of Texas BY CAPT. MARK WILTON, 256 Young Kentucek; or, The Red Lasso, 270 Blizzard Ben; or, The Riot at Keno Camp, 256 Josh, the Boy Tenderfoot. BY J. W. OSBON. 469 The Rival Giants of Nowhar’. 498 Cactus Burr, the Man trom Hard Luck. 587 Old Buckeye, the Sierra Shadow. RY GEORGE WALDO BROWNE, 86 Dandy Rock the Man from Texas. 90 The Dread Rider; or, The Texan Duelist. 99 The Tiger of Tuos; or, Dandy Rock’s Angel. 115 The Mad Miner; or, Dandy Rock’s Doom. 181 The Golden Hand; or, Dandy Rock to the Rescue, 164 Dandy Rock’s Pledge}; or, Hunted to Death. 178 Dandy Rock’s Rival; or, The Haunted Maid of Taos, BY ©. DUNNING CLARK. 185 Captain Paul; or, The Boy Spy of the Mountains. 280 The Yankee Rajah; or, The Fate of the Black Shereef, BY CHARLES E. LASALLE. 50 Burt Bunker, the Trapper. 52 The White Buffalo. A Tale of the Northwest, {BY CAPTAIN FRED. WHITTAKER. 15 The Sea-Cat; or, The Witch of Darien. 29 The Dumb Page; or, The Doge’s Daughter. 48 Dick Darling, the Pony Express Rider. 150 Lance and Lasso; or, The Children of the Chaco. 154 The Sword Hunters; or, The Land of the Elephant Riders, 159 The Lost Captain; or, Skipper Jabez Coffin’s Cruise to the Open Polar Sea, 200 The Boy Bedoutns; or, The Brothers of the Plumed Lance, 214 Wolfgang, the Robber of the Rhine. 249 Milo Romer, the Animal King; or, The Round the World Wanderer. 265 The Tiger Tamer; or, The League of the Jungle. 881 Black Nick, the Demon Rider. 895 California Joe’s War Trall. BY MAJOR E. L. ST. VRAIN. 292 Sancho Pedro, the Boy Bandit. $01 Leadville Nick, the Boy Sport. 812 Redtop Rube, the Vigilante Prince. 8838 Brimatone Bob, and His Lightning Horse Quartette. 852 Tombstone Tom, the Arizona Boy of “ Sand.” BSY Durawere tenve, the Youny ‘ha n V restler. 871 Kingbolt Chris, the Young Hard-Shell Detective. 880 Avalanche ALf, the Foothills Guide. 890 Jaguar Joe, of the Mountxin Mail-Line. BY J. ©. COWDRICK. 860 Silver-Mask, the Man of Mystery. B69 Shasta, the Gold King; or, For Seven Years Dead, 420 The Detective’s Apprentice; or, A Boy Without a Name 424 Cibuta John; or, Red-Hot Times at Ante Bar. 439 Sandy Sam, the Street Scout. 467 Diaco Dan, the Daisy Dude 490 Broadway Billy, the Bootblack Bravo. 506 Redlight Ralph, the Prince of the Road. 514 Broadway Billy’« Boodle. 524 The Engineer Detective 536 Broadway Billy’s ‘ Diftikilty.” MISCELLANEOUS AUTHORS, 4 The Wild-Horse Hunters. By Capt. Mayne Reid and Frederick Whittaker. ® Adventures of Baron Munchaasen, 12 Gulliver’« Travels. By Dean Swift. 14 Aladdin; or, The Wonderful Lamp. 16 Robinson Crusoe. (27 Illustrations.) 18 Sindbad the Sailor. His Seven Voyages. 22 The Sea Serpent; or, The Boy Robinson Crusoe. By Juan Lewis. 88 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, The Red Pirates of the Carribees. By S, W. Pierce. 86 The Boy Clown; or, The Queen ofthe Arena, By Frank S. Finn. 88 Ned Wylde. the Boy Scout. By Texas Jack. 51 the Boy Rifles; or, The Underground Camp. By Archie C, lrons. 95 The Rival Rovers; or, The Freebooters of the Mississippi. By Lieut.-Col. Hazeltine. 98 Robin Hood, the Outlawed Earl; or, The Merry Men of Green- wood. By Prof. Gildersleéve. 105 Old Rube, the Hunter; or, The Crow Captive. Hamilton Holmes. 112 The Mad Hunter; or, The Cave of Death. By Burton Saxe. 124 Tippy, the Texan; or, The Young Champion. By George Gleeson. 128 The Young Privateer; or, The Pirate’s Stronghold. By Harry Cavendish. 148 Sharp Sam; or, The Adventures of a Friendless Boy. By J. Alexander Patten. 227 Dusky Darrell, Tear: or, The Green Ranger of the Yel- lowstone. By Edward Emerson. 261 Fergus Fearnaught the New York Boy. Aiken. 266 Killb’ar, the Guide; or, Davy Crockett’s Crooked Trail. By Ensign C. D. Warren. 298 Red Claw, the One-Eyed Trapper; or, The Maid of the Cliff. By Captain Comstock. Peacock Pete, the Lively By Lieu- tenant Alfred Thorne. B28 The Sky Ibe‘ective; By Maior Mickey Free. Red Ralph, the River Rover; or, The Brother’s Re- venge. By Ned Bun tline. 865 Baltimore Ben the Bootblack Detective. By A. P. Morris. 874 Cue-Dage Toms; or, Ben’s Double Match. By George H, Morse. 876 California Joe’s First Trail. Hoyer Monstery. Rilly Rombshell, the Cliff Climber. By F. S. Winthrop, 440 Little Foxfoot. the Gold Bowie Kid. By Arthur C. Grissom, 475 The Black Ship. By John S. Warner. 484 Comanche Dick and His Three Invincibles, By Henrv J. Thomas. W izard-Arm, the Dandy Sport. Py Arthnr F. Holt. The Cowboy Duke. By Edwin Brooke Forrest. A new issue every Tuesday. The Half-Dime Library is for sale al Newsdealers, five cents per covy. or sent oy ae on receipt of six cents each BEADLE AMS Puolishers, 98 William street, New York. na By Captain By George L. Lad from Leadville. or, A Boy’s Fight for Life and Honot, By Colonel Thomas
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“* / PRY, cy, ~ BEADLE'S a Lae { Rime TERE EN - a. ~ tip, YaRignes, ey HALF. Dime. Published Every Tuesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Five Cents. No Double Numbers. m ads ™ BRARY.. BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, Deadwood Dick Novela. 1 Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road. 20 Double Daggers is Deadweod Dick’s Defiance, 28 Buffalo Ben; or, Deadwood Dick in Disguise. 85 Wild Ivan, the Boy Claude Duval. 42 Phantom Miner; or, Deadwood Dick’s Bonanza, 49 Omaha OL; or, Deadwood Dick in Danger. 57 Deadwood Dick's Eagles; or, The Pards of Flood Bar. 78 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or. Calamity Jane, the Heroine. 77 Corduroy Charlie; or, Deadwood Dick’s Last Act. 100 Deadwood Dick in Leadville. 104 Deadwood Dick’s« Device; or, The Double Cross Sign. 109 Deadwood Dick as Detective. 129 Donewoed Dick’s Double; or, The Ghost of Gorgon’s Gulch. 188 Blonde Pett or, Deadwood Dick’s Home Base. 149 A Game ef Gold; or, Deadwood Dick’s Big Strike. 156 Deadwood Diek of Deadwonds or, The Picked Party, 195 Deadwood Dick’s Dream; or, The Riv»ls of the Road. 201 The Black Hille Jezebel; or, Deadwood Dick’s Ward. 205 Deadweoed Dick’s Doom; or, Calamity Jane’s Last Ad- venture, 217 Captain Orack-Shot, the Girl Brigand. 221 Sugar-Coated Sam; or, The Black Gown. 282 Gold-Duat Dick. A Romance of Ronghs and Toughs, 268 Deadwood Dick’s Divides or, The Spirit of Swamp Lace. 268 Deadwood Dick’s Death Trail 809 peaawoed Dick’s Big Denl; or, The Geld Brick ef Jregon, 821 Deadwood Dick’s Dozen; or, The Fakir of Phantem Flats. 847 Deadwood Dick’s Ducats; or, Rainy Days in the Dig- ings. 851 Deadwood Dick Sentenced; or, The Terrible Vendetta. 862 Deadwood Dick’s Claim. 405 Deadwood Dick In Dead City. 4f0 Deadwood Dick’s Diamonde. 421 Deadwood Dick in New Y¥ ork} or, A “ Cute Care.” 480 Deadwood Dick’s Dust; or, The Chained Hand, 448 Deadwoed Dick, Jr. 448 Nickel-Plate Ned; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Defiance. 458 Sunflower Sam, of Shasta; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’a Full Hand, 459 Flush Fan, the Ferret; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Big Ronnd- Up. 465 Philo Fly, of Phenix; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Racket at alm . A471 Bozeman Bill; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Corral. 476 ig tere Marry the Hurricane; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Jog Detective. 481 Moll Mystery; or, Deadwood Dick Jr. in Deadwood. 491 5 Biya Pistol, the King of the West; or, Deadwood Dick r’s Compact. 496 Monte Cristo, Jr.t or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Inheritance. Bos Bectroce bree agenentc, mer Soe endwo eliverance, 515 Deadwood Dick’s Protegee. 522 Deadwood Dick’s Three. 529 Deadwood Dick’s Danger Ducks, 5S4 Deadwood Dick’s Death Hunt. 589 Deadwood Dick Jr. in Texas. oa peagweed Bick Jr. CF) aha Vidoog. eadw oot eck on His Mettile. 654 Deadwood Dick, Jr. in Gotham, 561 Deadwood Dick In Boston. ae pes sces tig 5 i: > eine s ecadwoo ck, dr. in Chicago, 578 Deadwood Dick, Jr. Afloat. 584 Deadwood Dick, Jr. in Denver. 590 Deadwood Dick, Jr's, Decree. aos Bosaweod im a oy in Beclxebab’e Basia. 4) end wood ek dr. at Coney Island. 606 Deadwood Dick Jr's Leadville Lay. 612 Deadwood Dick Jr. In Detroit. 618 Deadwood Dick, Jr. in Cincinnatl, 624 Deadwood Dick, Jr. in Nevada. Other Novels by E. L. Wheeler. 26 Cloven Woof, the Buffalo Demon. 82 Bob Woolf; or, The Girl Dead-Shot, 89 Death-Face, Detective; or, Life in New York. 45 Old Avalanche; or, Wild Edna, the Girl Brigand. 5S Jim Bludsoe, Jr., the Boy Phenix. 61 Buckhorn Bill; or, The Red Rifle Team 69 Gold Rifle, the Sharpshooter; or, The Boy Detective. 80 Rosebud Rob; or, Nugget Ned, the Knight. 84 Idyl, the Girl Miner; or, Rosebud Rob on Hand, 88 Phetograph Phil; or, Rosebud Rob’s Reappearance, 92 Canada Chet ; or, Old Anaconda in Sitting Bull’s Camp, 96 Watch-Eye;: or, Arabs and Angels of a Great City. 118 Jack Hoyle the Young Speculator. 117 Gilt-Edged Dick, the Sport Detective 121 Cinnamon Chip, the Girl Sport. 125 Bonanza Bill, Miner. 188 Boas Bob the King of Bootblacks 141 Solid Sam, the Boy Road-Agent. 145 Cavtain Ferret, the New York Detective; or, Boss Bob’s oss oo. 161 New York Nell, the Boy-Girl Detective. 177 Nobby Nick of Nevada; or, The Sierras Scamps, 181 Wild Frank, the Buckskin Bravo. 20% Fritz, the Bound-Boy Detective. 218 Fritz to the Front; or, The Ventriloquist Hunter, 226 Snoozer, the Boy Sharp: or, The Arab Detective, 286 Apollo Bill, the Trail Tornado. 240 Cyclone Kit, the Young Gladiator. 244 Sierra Sam, the Frontier Ferret. 24% Sierra Sam’s Seeret; or, The Bloody Footprints, 258 Sierra Sam’s Parad; or, The Ange! of Big Vista. 258 Sierra Sam’s Seven; or, The Stolen Bride. 278 Jumbo Joe, the Koy Patrol; or, The Rival Heirs, 277 Denver Doll, the Detective Queen. 281 Denver Doll's Victory. 285 Denver Doll’s Decoy ; or. Little Bill’s Bonanza. 291 Turk, the Koy Ferret. 296 Denver Doll’« Drift; or. The Road Queen. 299 A Na. 1, the Dashing Toll-Taker. 808 *Liza Jane, the Girl Miner; or, the Iron-Nerved Sport. 825 Kelicy, Hickey & Co., the Detectives of Philadelphia. B80 Little Quick-Shot; or, The Dead Face of Daggersville, B84 Kangaroo Kits or, The Mysterious Miner. 889 Kangaroo Kit’« Racket. $48 Manhattan Mike, the Bowery Blood. BHS Firat-Clase Fred, the Gent trom Gopher. 868 Yreka dim, the Gold-Gatherers or, The Lottery of Life 872 Yreka Jim’s Prize. B78 Naboly Ned; or, The Secret of Slab City. BS2 Cool Kit, the King of Kids; or, A Villain’s Vengeance, B85 Yreka Jim’s Joker; or, The Rivals of Red Nose, 889 Bleyele Ben; or. The Lion of Lightning Lode, 894 Yreka Jim of Yuba Dam. 400 Wrinkles, the Night-Watch Detective. 416 High Wat Marry, the Base Ball Detective, 426 Sam Slabaldes, the Beggar-Boy Detective. 484 Jim Beak and Pal, Private Detectives, 5 Santa Fe Sal, the Slasher. 6 Sealskin Sam, the Sparkler. he % Pie af ¥ ‘ee os oe Dee eT ae BY CHARLES MORRIS, 118 WII Somers, the Boy Detective. 122 Phil Hardy, the Boss Boy. 126 Picayune Pete; or, Nicodemus, the Dog Detective. 180 Detective Dick; or, The Hero in Rags. 142 Handsome Harry, the Bootblack Detective, 147 Will Wildfire, the Thoroughbred. 152 Black Keass, Will Wildfire’s Racer. Mike Merry, the Harbor Police Boy. 162 Will Wildfire in the Woods. 165 Billy Baggage, tie Railroad Boy. 0 A Trump Card; or, Will Wildtire Wins and Loses. 4 Bob Rockett; or, Mysteries of New York. 9 Bob Rockett, the Bank Runner, 8 The Hidden Hand; or, Will Wildfire’s Revenge. 7 Fred Halyard, the Life Boat Boy; or, The Smugglers, 189 Bob Rockett; or, Driven to the Wall. 196 Shadowed ; or, Bob Rockett’s Fight for Life. 206 Dark Paul, the Tiger King. 212 Dashing Dave, the Dandy Detective. 220 Tom Tanner; or, The Biack Sheep of the Flock, 25 Sam Charcoal the Premium Darky. 235 Shadow Sam, the Messenger Boy. 242 The Two * Bloods”; or, Shenandoah Bill and His Gang. 252 Dick Dashaway: or, A Dakota Boy in Chicago. 262 The Young Sharps: or, Rollicking Mike’s Hot Trail 274A Jolly Jim, the Detective Apprentice. 289 Jolly Jim’s Job; or, The Young Detective. 298 The Water-Hound; or, The Tesds Thoroughbred. 805 DESRAWASs of Dakota; or, A Western Lad im the Quaker Jity. 824 Ralph Ready, the Hotel Boy Detective. $41 Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective. 858 The Reporter-Detective ; or, Fred Flyer’s Blizeard. B67 Wide-Awake Joe; or, A Boy of the Times. 87y Lares. the Leveler; or, The Bloods of the Boulevard. 408 Firefly Jack, the River-Rat Detective. 42% The Lost Finger; or, The Entrapped Cashier. 428 Fred Flyer, the Reporter Detective. 482 Invincible Lo an, the Pinkerton Ferret. 456 Billy Brick, the Jolly Vagabond. 466 Wide-Awake Jerry, Detective; or, Entombed Alive. 479 Detective Dodge; or, The Mystery of Frank Hearty. 488 Wild Dick Racket. 501 Boots, the Boy Fireman; or, Too Sharp for the Sharper, 566 The Secret Service Boy Detective. 596 Jimmy the Kid; or, A Lamb Among Wolves. BY OLL COOMES. & Vagabond Joe, the Young Wandering Jew. 18 The Dumb Spy. 27 Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide. 81 Keen-Knilfe, the Prince of the Prairies. 41 Lasso Jack, the Young Mustanger. 6S The Border King; or, The Secret Foe. 71 Delaware Dick, the Young Ranger Spy. 74 Wawk-eye Marry the Young Trapper Ranger. 88 Rollo, the Boy Ranger. 184 Sure Shot Reth, the Boy Rifleman. 148 Sear-Face Saul, the Silent Hunter 146 Silver Star, the Boy Knight. 158 Eagle Kit, the Boy Demon. 168 Little Texas, the Young Mustanger. 178 Old Solitary, the Hermit Trapper. 182 Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain. 202 Prospect Pete ;¢ or, The Youre Outlaw Hunters. 208 The Roy Hercules: or, The Prairie Tramps. 218 Tiger Tom, the Texas Terror. 224 Dashing Dick; or, Trapper Tom’s Castle. 22% Little Wildfire, the Young Prairie Nomad. 288 The Parson Detectives or, The Little Ranger. 248 The Disgulsed Guide; or, Wild Raven, the Ranger, 260 Dare-Devil Dan, the Young Prairie Ranger. 272 Minkakin Mike, the Boy Sharpshooter. 290 Little Foxfire, the Boy Spy. 800 The Sky Demon ; or, Rainbolt, the Ranger. B84 Whip-king Joe, the Boy Ranchero. 409 Wercules; or, Dick, the Boy Ranger. 417 Webtoot Mose, the Tramp Detective. 422 Baby Sam, the Boy Giant of the Yellowstone. 444 Little Buckskin, tne Young Prairie Centaur. 457 Wingedtoot Fred; or, Old Polar Saul. 468 Tamarne Tom, the Big Trapper Boy. 478 Od Tom Rattler, the Red River Epidemic, 482 Stonewall Bob, the Boy Trojan. 562 Blundering Basil, the Hermit Boy Trapper. BY T. ©, HARBAUGIE 28 Nick o’ the Night; or, The Boy Spy of '76. 87 The Hidden Lodge; or The Little Hunter. 47 Nightingale Nat; or, Tne Forest Captains, 64 Dandy Toe <3 or, The Outlaws of the Oregon Tralt. 82 Kit Harefoot the Wood-Hawk. 94 Midnight Jack 3 or, The Boy Trapper. 106 Old Frosty, the Guide; or, The White Queen, 128 Kiowa Charley the White Mustanger. 189 Judge Lyuch, Jr. er, The Boy Vigilante. 155 Gok Trigger, the Pees or, The Girl Avenger. 169 Tornado Toms or, [njun Jack From Red Core. 188 Ned Temple, the Border Boy. 198 Arkansaw ¢ or, The Quevn of Fate’s Revenge. 207 Navajo Nick, the Boy Gold Hunter. 215 Captain Bullet; cr, Little Tonknot’s Crusade, 281 Plucky Phil; or, Rosa, the Rei Jezebel. 241 Bill Bravo; or, The Roughs of the Rockies, 255 Captain Apolic, tne King-Pin of Bowie. 267 The Buckskin Detective. 279 Old Winch; or, The Buckskin Desperadoes. 294 Dynamite Pang or, The Bowle Blade of Cochetopa. 802 The Mountain Detectives or, The Trigger Bar Bully. 816 Old Eclipse, Trump Curd: f Arizona, 826 The Ten Parda: or. The Terror of Take-Notice. 886 Big Benson; or, The Queen of the Lasso. 845 Pitilesas Matt; or, Red Thunderbolt’s Secret. B56 Cool Sam and Pards or The Terrible Six. B46 Velvet Foot, the Indian Detective. 8X6 Captain Cutlass; or, The Brecaneer’s Girl Foe. 896 Rough Rob; or, The Twin Champions of Blue Blazes, 411 The Silken Lasso: or, The Rose of Ranch Robin. 418 Felix Fox, the Boy Spotter. 425 Texas Trump. tie Border Rattler. 486 Phil Flash, -# New York Fox. 445 The City Vampires; or, Ked Rolfe’s Pigeon. 461 One Against Fifty; or, The Last Man of Keno Bar, 470 The Boy Shadow; or, Felix Fox's Hunt. 477 The Excelsior Sport: or, The Washington Spotter. 499 Single Sight, the One-Eyed Sport. 502 Branded Ben, the Night Ferret. 512 Dodger Dick, the Wharf-Spy Detective. B21 Dodger Dick’s Best Dodge. B28 Fox and Falcon, the Bowery Shadows. BSS Dodger Dick, the Dock Ferret, 548 Dodger Dick’« Double; or, The Rival Boy Detectives. 558 Dodeer Dick’sa Desperate Case. 568 Dodger Dick, the Boy Vidocq. 578 The Two Shadows. 5S Dodger Dick’s Drop. 594 Little Lon, the Street-Singer Detective. 610 Old Skinner, the Gold Shark; or, Tony Sharp on Guard, ‘ee i. BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRATIAM, ? The Flying Yankee; or, The Ocean Outcast, 17 Ralph Koy, the Boy Buccaneer; or, The Fugitive Yacht. 24 Diamond Pirk;: or, The Mystery of the Yellowstone, 62 The Shadow Ship; or, The Rival Lieutenants. 75 The Boy DPnellat; or, The Cruise of the Sea- Wolf, @2 Dick Dead-Eye, the Boy Smuggier. 11 The Sea-Devil; or, The Midshipman’s Legacy. 16 The Hussar Captain 3 or, The Hermit of Hell Gate, 97 Little Grit; or, Bessie, the Stock-Tender’s Daughter. 04 Gold Plume; or, The Kid-Glove Sport. 216 Bison BIL, the Prince of the Reins. 222 Grit, the Brave Sport; or, The Woman Trailer. 229 Crimson Kate; or, The Cowboy’s Triumph. 287 Lone Star, the Cowboy Captain. 245 Merle, the Middy ; or, The Freelance Heir. 250 The Midshipman utineer ¢ or, Brandt, the Baccaneer, 264 fibew: Floating Feather; or, sland. 269 The Gold Ship; or, Merle, the Condemned. 276 Psy Monte’s Cruise; or, The Chase of “The Gold Ship.”’ 280 Merle Monte’« Fate; or, Pearl, the Pirate's Bride, 284 The Sea Marauder; or, Merle Monte’s Pledge. 287 Billy Blue-Eyes, the Boy Rover of the Rio Grande. 804 The Dead Shot Dandy ; or, Bento, the Boy Bugler. 808 Keno Kit; or, Dead Shot Dandy’s Double. 814 7h Mysterious Marauder; or, The Boy Bugler’s Long Tall. 877 Bonodel, the Boy Rover}; or, The Flagless Schooner. 888 The Indian Pilot; or, The Search for Pirate Island. 887 Warpath WIII, the Boy Phantom. 898 Seawalf, the Boy Lieutenant. 402 Isodor, the Young Conspirator; or, The Fatal Leagus, 407 The Boy Insurgent; or, The Cuban Vendetta. 412 The Wild Yachteman; or, The War-Cloud’s Cruise, 429 Duncan Dare, the Boy Refugee. 488 A Cabin Boy’s Luck; or, The Corsair. 487 The Sea Raider. 441 The Ocean Firefly; or, A Middy’s Vengeance. 446 Haphazard Harry; or, The Scapegrace of the Sea, 450 Wizard WII: or, The Boy Ferret of New York. 454 Wizard WIII’s Street Scouta. 462 The Born Gulde; or, The Sailor Boy Wanderer. 468 Neptune Ned, the Boy Coaster. 474 Flora; or, Wizard Will’s Vagabond Pard. 488 Ferrets Afloat; or, Wizard Will’s Last Case. 487 Nevada Ned, the Revolver Ranger. 495 Arizona Joe the Boy Pard of Texas Jack. 497 Buck Taylor, King of the Cowboys. 508 The Royal Middy ; or, The Shark and the Sea Cat. 507 The Hunted Midshipman. 511 The Outlawed Middy. 520 Buckskin BIII, the Comanche Shadow. 525 Brothers tn Buckskin, 580 The Buckskin Bowers, 685 The Buct skin Rovers. 540 Captain Ku-Klux, the Marauder of the Rie, 545 Lieutenant Leo, the Son of Lafitte. 550 Lafitte’s Legacy; or. The Avenging Son. 555 The Creole Corsair. 560 Pawnee BUI, the Prairie Shadower, 565 Kent Kingdon, the Card King. TO Camille, the Card Queen. 575 The Surgeen-Scout Detective. 580 The Outcast Cadet; or, The False Detective. BS6 The Buckskin Avenger. 591 Delmonte, the Young Sea- Rover. 597 The Young Texan Detective. 602 The Vagabond of the Mines. 607 The Rover Detective; or, Keno Kit’s Champions, 617 Ralph, the Dead-Shot Scout; or, The Raiders and the Red Riders of the Rio. Merle Monte’s Treasure BY BUFFALO BILL (Hon. Wm. F. Cody), 8 Kansas Kings or, The Red Right Hand. 19 The Phantom Spy: or, The Pilot of the Prairie, &5 Deadly-Eye, the Unknown Scout. 68 Border Robin Hood: or, The Prairie Rover. 158 Fancy Frank of Colorado; or, The Trapper’s Trust. LATEST AND NEW ISSUES. 626 The Champton Pards; or, The Lucifer of Silver Bar. By T. C. Harbaugh. 627 Tom Bruee of Arkansas; or, The Wolfin the Fold. By Charles Morris. 628 Broadway Billy’s Dead Act; or, The League of the Sworn Seven. By J. C. Cowdrick. 629 Violet Vane, the Velvet Sport; or, The Jubilee of Jacktewn. By Wm. G. Patten. 680 Deadwood Nick, Jr. in No Man’s Land; or, Goleonda, the Gladiator. By Ed. L. W heeler. 681 Tom Cat's Terrible Task; or, The Cowboy Detective’s Own Case, By Lieut. A. K. Sims. Ready August 27. 682 The Dead Detective’s Double. By Gerald Carlton. Ready September 3. 688 Plucky Paul, the Boy Prospector; or, The Deadwood Des- perado’s Last Innings. By J. W. Osbon Ready September 10, Cache Carl, the Chico Giant; or, The True Hearts of Red = Eye Roost. By Buckskin Sam. Ready September 17. 5 Oklahoma Hi, the Blue Coat Scout; or, The Boomers Last wi Battle. By P. S. Warne. Ready September 24, A New Issue Every Tuesday. The Half- Dime Library 's for sale by all newsdealers, five conta per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each. BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street New York, i