Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 456) (1886 04 20)
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SECOND EDITION, | alallalalelalalely) es TAM TA, MIS TR, CANT WARE, = anally DES Ss aS NN. ORR 07 n a MIAN mn ft it! ot i ut a lS a aS ochnd > ___ Copyright, 1886, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, _ bncy ae April 20, ae ul NU Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., at Second Class Mail Rates. __ 23 Ftnoe No. 456 * * ldap - = sew Yor! — $2.50 PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS Vol. XVUI a’¥ear. No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents. —- SS S| [SY SE , SC +} i WEP ED. ULE Le it, A HARD NUT TO CRACK. BY CHARLES MORRIS, AUTHOR OF “PICAYUNE PETE,” “pg DICK,” ‘‘ WILL WILDFIRE,” TECTIVE ETC., ETC., ETC. CHAPTER I. THE TRANSFER OF A MYSTERY, ‘“* PILE in; I’m yer hoss!” ‘“ Not much of a hoss, youngster. <A sort of Canadian pony you be, I reckon.” ‘ Jist don’t yon git behind me when I’m in a kickin’ bumecr, Cr maybe you mought think Pm a Wild Wes! broncho!” : = ee os a a These words passed between two very differ- ““ YOU CONFOUNDED YOUNG REPROBATE, YOU WILL HAVE IT THEN!” CRIE ent persons, in a plainly furnished room of a HORSEMAN, IN A FURY, AS HE RAISED HIS RIDING WHIP. D
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‘ i ey house in the lower section of the city of Phila- delphbia, One of them, Jacob Grim by name, was a short, stout, grizzled-faced old fellow, of some sixty years of age, who looked as weather-beat- en as if he had been lost on a desert island for half his lifetime. His companion was a well-grown lad, appa- rently about eighteen years old. He was small of size for that age, yet looked asif he knew evough of the world to be eighty instead of eighteen. Billy Brick, as the boys called him, had indeed | been to a hard school. He knew nothing what- ever of father or mother, and had been rubbed against the roughest side of life ina great city till he was as sharp as if he had been ground on a grindstone. What his real name was he did not know him- self, and cared as little. There was some mys- |tery surrounding his parentage, and old Grim, | who had always kept half an“eye on him, cer- taifly knew more about the boy than he chose to tell. But little of all this troubled Billy Brick. He took life as it came, for hit or miss, and had grown up into a very hard nut to crack, for any one who should try to get the best of him. The attitudes of the two persons showed their characters. Old Grim, dressed in a suit of stout corduroy, was seated squarely in an arm- chair, his elbows resting on the arms, and his face set, in as cross a look as if he had just swal- lowed a green persimmon. The boy, on the contrary, whose ill-fitting dress seemed the cast-off garments of half-a- dozen different persons, was seated in a tilted- back chair, his heels on the table, and his shabby hat thrust rakishly over his left ear. The lad was by no means ill-looking. His skin was tanned as brown as a berry, and the bright sparkle in his eyes told of a keen brain and wide-awake wits. And he was likely to have need of wit and daring ere he was much older. Dangers were gathering around the youth unknown to himself, which were destined to try.and prove his char- acter to the utmost. A grating laugh came from old Grim, as the boy spoke. But his face quickly settled again into its serious and sour expression. **See here, boy.” .he remarked. ‘' You’ve been having a jolly fling of it all your life, haven’t you now?” ‘*Reckon there’s fellers as has had it jollier,” replied the boy carelessly. ‘* Tain’t never kicked though, ’s long’s I had a bone to gnaw, and the soft side ’o a plank to bunk on. Don’t take much to keep this rooster crowin’.” The old man looked at him, with something of sorrow and trouble on his wrinkled face. ‘*T’m goin’ to leave you, my boy. Ye’re goin’ to lose your sour old daddy.” ‘** By Jiminy!” cried the lad, springing up so suddenly as to overturn his chair. ‘ Them’s news! hat’s afloat now?’ ‘‘You’ll have to dig for yoarself, Billy. I can’t even leave you no money, It'll takeevery cent I can rake to carry out what I’m after.” “Don’t git inter no spring fever *bout that. Reckon I kin hoe my row. ‘Tain’t that as ails me, What beo’s got inter yer bonnet, that’s what I want ter know. Goin’ away ter leave me? That ain’t fair, nohow.” “Tt can’t be helped,” remarked the old man, shaking his grizzled head, sadly. ‘* But who’s goin’ ter take keer o’ you, that’s what I wanter know? No trouble ’bout this coon gittin’ long. But you ain’t fit to go lone, with- out me ter look arter you. An’ you know that, daddy.” ‘* Why, you conceited young scoundrel!” broke out the old man, impatient.r. Then he checked himseif, and his sides shook with a cackling laugh. ‘¢ Blame my optics if the boy ain’t jista honey from the word go!” he declared. _ “‘ Guess I can trust you to get along, Billy. But I fancy I don’t need a wet-nurse yet.” ‘*Dnnno,” answered Billy, shaking h’s head, doubtfully.- ‘‘ Kinder looks duhyous.” ‘*Come to anchor, youngster, and sket up your log-book till I get in my say. I’ve ect something to tell you of great importance, So take a reef in your gab till P’ve spilled my provender.” ** Dive ahead, daddy!” rejoined the irrepres- sible boy, as he seated himself and flung his heels again on the table, ‘ Pile in, ’'m yer hoss; as I said awhile ago.” ‘*Then take down them canal boats. This business 1s serious, and I don’t want you to put on no airs while I’m talking.” Thus admonished, Billy took down his feet, pulled his chair up to the table, and put on as sober a look as his face was able to take. The old man straightened himself up, and faced the boy. ** You are cld enough now, my boy,” he began, ‘to know some things which it was not wise to trouble you with in your younger days, And things have come tosuch a pass that I must speak out plainly. ** For years I have been living on thecrater of a volcano, not knowing what minute I might tumble in and be done for.” Billy looked up in surprise and interest at this unexpected remark. ain't bout ter bu’st out jist now, is it?” he queried. “If ’tis, I reckon Ill git.” “tT have for mary years past been in the pos- session of a secret,” resumed the old man, pay- ing no attention to the boy’s sally, ‘‘ which would make things mighty squally for certain important persons if I was to Jet it out.” * A secret?” questioned the boy, with growing interest. ‘*T have more than the secret. If it had been only that I would have been done for long ago. They would have setiled my bash without waiting for salt and pepper. They ain’t the sort that would stop long wheu only an old man’s life was in the way.” ‘* ‘Lawsee!” cried Billy. they’d killed you?” ‘** As quick as they would a cat.” “Then, by Jiminy, I’d madesomebody sweat!” cried the boy, bringing his fist down fiercely on the table, while his young face blazed with ex- citement. ‘‘The chap that hurts my daddy Grim, ain’t goin’ to have no walk-over, while I’m round, now you bet!” ‘*Good for you, Billy! Give me your hand!” cried the old man, delightedly. ‘So you'd put in a left-hander for old Grim, would you, my boy?” **Nary time. It ’d be a right-hander. And straight from the shoulder, too.” ** Well, I guess that there won’t be any use for it,” resumed the old man. ‘ The secret was- n’t aH. There’s something else I’ve got that’s more important yet. Killing me wouldn’t done them any good, and they knowed that mighty well. It was that other thing they wanted. They’ve tried many a game to get it, but they ain’t euchered the old coon yet,” He broke again into one of his short, cackling laughs. “T was sharp enough to put that where the keenest of them couldn’t find it. They’ve been creeping about under water for years, but ain’t jicked up nothing. I was too old for them, illy.” ‘** And what’s up, now? Goin’ to be a turn in the tide?” “ That’s it exactly. There’s some things to be done connected with this secret that nobody can do but me. And to do them I must go thousands of miles away, and maybe be two or three years absent. Though it may be much shorter.” “Don’t quite like that,” said Billy, with a serious shake of the head. ‘ Best take me ‘long to look arter you.” ‘*Can’t be did. You must stay here. my reasons.” ‘*And the secret, daddy. And the thing. What ’bout them?’ “The secret must stay one still. As for the thing, it holds the secret and much more. That I intend to leave in your charge, my boy.” ‘**In my charge!” exclaimed Billy, opening his eyes widely, with surprise and excitement. ‘Tt is a dangerous matter to hold,” continued Old Grim. “It may bring you to your death unless you are cunning as a fox. It troubles me to the heart to have to expose you to this peril. But I do not see*my way clear to any other action.” “ Jist you bet Pll fight hard for my white ally!’ cried the boy proudly. ‘They mought salt me, but they won’t find it no baby’s joh.” **I know that. I know you’ve got sense and judgment, or I’'d take any risk rather than im- peril your life.” “Never felt so much like a man in my life,” declared Billy, straightening himself up prondly. ‘Listen to me, lad. I would take this thing with me, but for the danger that 1 may never come back again. My foes will not fail to fol- low me, and if they find that in my possession I would not give a chestnut for my life.” ** Don’t you think o’ no sech nonsense as takin’ it,” exclaimed Billy. “I might leave it here hidden where it now is. But if I should die in my absence it might never be found. Orit might be found by the wrong parties,” **'You don’t say as I have } | Billy Brick, the Jolly Vagabond. | gs co ‘Which wouldn’t be comf’able.” ‘‘Hardly. Then again, 1 might leave it in other hands than in yours, but I don’t know any- body I could trust.” ‘** It’s kinder narrering down to me.” “There is a reason why you, and you only, must take this charge, with all its dangers,” re- sumed the old man. ‘It is because you are most nearly interested in the secret involved. What that secret is I cannot tell you, but it is the pivot on which your life hinges.” *‘ Jiminy peppers!” cried Billy, whose excite- ment was now growing intense. “There is, as JT have told you before, a mys- tery connected with your life. That mystery cannot be revealed until you are twenty-one years of age. I can’t say that I’ve done much for you,my boy. I’m a-rough old customer that have had hard scratching to make my own way. But I've always kept an eye on you. And I in- tend todo so, as fur as I can, until the day comes in which this long-hidden mystery shall be re- vealed.” ‘*You’ve jist been the makin’ o’ me. Daddy Grim,” cried the boy, squeezing the old_ man’s hand, while tears came to his grateful eyes, “ve been a kickin’ colt, I know that, but I ain’t been blind to your goodness.” Old Grim broke away, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes. : ‘Wait here till [ come back,” he ordered ina tone of forced roughness. The boy waited. What fancies and visions passed through his mind during that wait we shall not attempt to tell. A hulf-hour passed ere the old man returned. When he did so there was something carefully concealed under his coat. “What I give you, my boy,” he began, ““you must guard as the apple of your eye. No one knows that it has passed from my hands, though some may suspect. For your life do not breathe a word of 1ts being in your possession. If it becomes known I would not give a farthing for your chance of a long hfe. “If I should fail to return, open it when you are twenty-one. But not before. You will then know how to act. But perhaps I am asking too much of you. Are you willing to ac- cept this charge, after all that I have told you?” ‘Jist you bet yer bottom dollar on that,” answered Billy, with a return of bis reckless spirit. ‘‘And if they try any o° the’r ugly tricks round me I reckon I'll make some 0’ them caper afore they snuff me out,” “Then here it is. Guard it for life and honor. { know you and trust you.” He withdrew his concealed hand. What it held was a small, fiat box or casket, of polished steel inlaid with gold. It was about six by eight inches in size, and giittered like a magic ‘alsa: in the boy’s wide-open eyes. He tock it in his hand with a feeling as if he had received the fatal treasure of the genii. CHAPTER IL. BILLY AT HOME AND ABROAD. Sruvce the date of our last chapter a month has passed away. Three weeks ago Jacob Grim left the city on bis errand of mystery. His departure was managed with the utmost secrecy and caution. At midnight he made his way quietly to a train, accompanied only by his youthful protege, to whom he gave many last words of warning on the way thither. The boy was to conceal his perilous charge in some secret place, where it was never likely to be disturbed, and to take care not to lead sus- picion to the spot. : . And he was to avoid talking of the subject as he would avoid taking poison. “'There’s enough other stuff for talk,” declared old Grim, “ even for as long a tongue as yours, Ain’t no use walking on hot irons, when there’s cold water handy.” . *‘Me talk!” cried Billy indignantly. ‘*‘ Why, there ain't a boy in Philameclink that’s got as short a tongue: and you oughter know that.” ‘Short, is it? Then by. the Barnegat frog- ponds it’s got an awful wag to it! But that ain’t here nor there. You can’t stop a mill-race from running by giving it good advice, so all you've got to do is to dig it the channel you want it to run in.” *“ Don’t you clip off ‘nother word bout it,” cried the perverse boy, ‘or V'll gust go and talk box! A feiler leno think I hadn’t the sense I was born with.” “Wasn't born with much,” growled old Grim sourly. ‘Got to trust yon, I s’pose, but I'd just as soon trust a cat with a milk-pan,” *Reckon I ain’t bad on the lick.” rejoined Billy, with a laugh. “ lhat’s what the boys think, anyhow, when they come crowdin’ me. ’
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- eer Billy Brick, the J olly Vagabond, 3 **T wish you could only stay in my house,” continued Grim thoughtful y “Thad a hidtng- place thére where the box was safe for years.” “Why couldn’t 17 Ain't I old ’nough fur housekeepin’?” “Tis a rented house, Billy. It’s out o’ the question for you to pay the rent. You're old enough, though, to do something better than howling round the streets, picking up stray pen- | You'd better work yourself into a store, | nies. or into some steady business,” ‘““ Mebbe I monght,” answered the boy sober- | ly. ‘‘ Beginning to feel like a man, Tam. Can’t goon furever penny-grubbin’; but you bet it’s | jist jolly papers. Hate to guv it up.” The hour for the outgo of the train had ar- rived. The old man clasped the boy impulsive- ly in his arms, with an ardent bug, his cross face growing soft for the moment, and moisture standing in his eyes. Then he hurried through the gate, and Billy was left standing alone on the platform, with the sad feeling that be had Jost his only friend | in the world, He walked away, kicking his heels on the pavement as a veut to his feelings, ‘Dunno what’s the matter with my eyes,” he muttered savagely. ‘*leel’s if an oil well had bu’sted out in ’em. I wishsomebody’d kick me. I ‘won’t be jist myself ag’in till somebody kicks me.” He laughed grimly at the thought. ‘“‘T reckon as how maybe somebody’d wish he hadn’t. lightnin’ fur awhile! I'll jist have ter go some- where an’ bu’st down a stone wall with my cocoanut. Won't never feel right till ve run my top-knot through a stone wall.” ‘Yet as the days passed on, Billy soon became himself again. His first care had been to hide the mystérious easket in what he. considered a very secure place. His next had been to go briskly into the ugly tagk of making his living. So far he had always been able to fall back on old Grim when he found himself in a tight place. That refuge was gone. He had nobody now to trust to but himself. Billy had been in the habit of getting his meals where and when he could. But he had lately got a regular sleeping-place, a cubby-hole of a room in the top story of a house kept by an old Trishwoman. From this room the boy emerged one morn- ing, three weeks after the departure of Jacob Grim. He locked the door and put the key into his pocket. Down-stairs he went, whistling as gayly as a lark. *Yere’s the key, Judy,” he said to his land- lady. ‘‘ Vil jist stiek it in the old place. Lawsee, wouldn’t that fellow see blue | i Don’t | like ter leave my vallybles layin’ round loose, | *ea’ze sneaks mought slip mand raise partik’lar rats "mongst my combustibles.” The old lady stood looking at him, with her hands on her hips, and her face swimming with greasy good-humor. “Tist hear till the ridikPus_ gossoon!” she laughed. ‘ An’ it’s not enough in the room he has to buy a pig-tail plug of *baccy. fer a Con- naught beggar. To h’arkin till his gab ye’d think ther’ was di’monds galore, when ther’ ain’t the wu’th o’ a gutter-stone outside o’ the dacent furniture I’ve purvided the lad.” “ Anyhow it’s spruce and tasty, Judy. AndI don’t want no other birds a-settin’ in my nest, Tve got my notions that way. That’s why I allers fotch down the key, and put it where only you an’ me knows,” ‘ “ «The luck o’ St. Patrick go wid you, me boy! for faix ye’rea ladas Pve tuk a suddint fancy to. And it’s nebody ll get intil your room. wid Judy McMulligin’s: good will, cept herself fur the thrifle o’ cl’anin’. An’ ’tain’t often she both- ers herself wid that, as ‘ye well know.” “ All right, Judy, dear. And the top o’ the mornin’ to ye. I'm off” ‘An’ yemimber, the rent’s due the night. Bear that in mind, ye heedless spalpeen, And away wid ye!” ‘‘Reclton Pll have to bear it in pocket, as well as ip mind.” laughed Billy, in his reckless manner, as he left the room and passed out into the street. ; It was not a highly attractive avenue, Nar- row, dirty, full of strange smells and filth-lov- ing ehildren, lined on both sides with tumble- down houses, thet leaned up ag#iust one an- other like drunkards, and so held each other up, it was not the place where a person of taste would have cared to make his residence. Yet none of this hurt Billy Brick’s feelings. He had been too long used to it, and the perfume of the gutters very little troubled his unedueat- ed nose. He went along whistling a8 gayly as if he owned the whole town, and a share of the river to boot. Yet Billy had another reason for the careful locking of his room other than he had told his landlady, it wasa reason connected with the treasure in charge. He would have carried the key in his pocket for safe-keeping, only that Judy very strongly | objected to any such idea. So he had compro- mised by putting the key under her especial care. Billy Brick went his way that morning as happy as a lark, and with both eyes open for whatever might turn up. The boy was ripe for anything that might serve to bring him in an honest penny. Hold- ing horses, running errands, carrying parcels, picking upa job of laboring work here and there, sweeping out stores, helping boatmen— any and everything for which he was hkely to get paid. He had some few steady jobs, but most of his labor was chance work, and the amount of lis earnings varied greatly week by week. But there was an indepetidence in this mode of life that just suited his reckless humor, and | he had been so long used to doing what he pleas- ed, and when he pleased, that he would have felt like a slave to come down to steady labor. Yet, during the weeks that had elapsed since Grim’s departure, there had been some things taking place of which Billy was not aware. There had been strange eyes on him. _ His movements had been watched. He bad been followed on several occasions. TEividently sus- picion and danger were gathering around him. Yet of all this he knew nothing. He had been at first full of the mystery told him, and of the need of caution. But as time wore on that feeling subsided. It was not sure but that in some moment of recklessness and over confidence he might let out the story to some of his intimates. The boy was too young and heedless to be trusted with such a secret. We have given these particulars as they are of importance in the conduct of our story. But to the boy, as he roamed along that morning wide-awake for a job, all was gay and rosy, There was not a clcud in the sky, or a shadow of danger in the air, He had left far behind him the sorry region of his residence, and was in a far more respectable part of the city, when a gentleman rode rapidly up on horseback, drew rei near where the boy was standing, and sprung from his saddle to the pavement, **Here, young fellow, hold my horse!” he cried in a tone of rude command. Billy, who was as proud as a lord in his way, did not like this tone. But he had his living to make, and so contented himself with shrugging his shoulders and holding his tongue. He caught the bridle which the gentleman carelessly flung him, and held the horse while the latter went into an adjoining house. It was a quiet street. But few persons were passing. Billy walked the horse slowly up and down, while he awaited the return of his em- ployer. The gentleman came out again after some fifteen minutes. He took a coin from his pocket and flung it to the boy, as he might have flung a bone to a dog; and prépared to mount. By this time the youngster’s quick blood was up. “% Ain't this kind o’ pickayone fur the size o’ the job?’ hé asked, as he looked at the coin in his hand. ‘* What do you mean, you rascal?” “‘Tifteen minutes fur a nickel ain't quite up to ownin’ a silver mine.” ‘That will do, you. young scoundrel! Pil switch your shoulders for any more gab,” eried the gentleman, who was now in his saddle, “And a counterfeit nickel at that. Didn’t think you. was one o the sort to shove. the queer. s You confounded young reprobate, you will have it then!” erjed the horseman, in a fury, as he raised his riding whip. The boy stood without moving a muscle, with his eyes fixed steadily on the face of his oppo- nent, ‘‘T say it’s a counterfeit.” herepeated. ‘‘ And jist you be keerful how you cavort with that there whip.” i ugly imp of Satan, you threaten me, do ron? 1 The whip whistled in the air.as the rider swung it around his shoulders. Fe seemed on the point of bringing it down on the back of the boy, whose face blazed with indignation, but who stood as motionless as a bronze statue. / | a eS Ss | that whip come dowh. | in a very different situation. But, at that moment another voice was heard, the voice ef a woman: ‘‘Don’t dare strike that boy,” it cried.. “I have heard it ali, and you pave treated him bad- ly.. Don’t you dare strike him!” The gentleman looked at her with a sneering face. “So ho!” he exclaimed. ‘‘ The rat has a cham- pion! I suppose I’d get myself in trouble now if I sliced his ears?’ ‘Perhaps you would,” retorted the woman, indignantly. “I know the Jad and will not see him iil-treated.” With another sneér the nian lowered his whip, turned, and rode away, as if not caring to keep up the dispute. Now for the first timé the boy turned toward his protector. He saw a young, well-dressed, and very good- looking lady, whose eyes were fixed on him with a peculiar glance. ** Miss Severn!” he exclaimed. as how it was you.” ‘“*It is lucky I happened to be near to protect you from the assault of that person,” she replied, “Him? answered Billy. ‘‘ That galoot? Hope you don’t s’pose I was skeered "bout him? Wish you'd jist left him ‘lone. You’d seeh fun when I ain’t very big, Miss Severn, but I bet you lofty I'd ha’ made the feathers fly.” She looked at the boy with a puzzled expres- sion. He was better able to take care of himself than she had fancied. “Why do you never come to see me any mere?” she asked. ** Ain’t had no ’casion,” answered the boy, shertly. “Come down this afternoon. I'll give you your supper, and I want a long talk with you.” ‘*Go with you now if you want.” ‘‘No, thank you,” she Jaughed. ‘I hardly think you are dressed well enough for my es- cort.” ‘Look fur me at grub time, then. Til be there.” ** Didnt know CHAPTER III. THE WOMAN IN THE CASE. Some eight hours after the moment of his encounter with the équestrian found Billy Brick He was seated at a table covered with a very appetizing supper, in the kitchén of a mansion of some style in the lower section of the city. The boy himself, with his saucy, sunburned face, his shaggy, half-combed hair, his ragged coat, two sizes too large for him, his neck with a soiléd nécktie knotted loosely around it, his greasy hat flung carelessly on a side table, seémed entirely out of place in that situation, But little did all that disturb him. He felt himself, in his independent soul, as good as a king, and if Billy had been dropped down in thé center of a palace he would have made himself at home within two minutés after land- ing. “Jolly, but Miss Severn does know _how ter tickle a feller’s insides,” declared Billy, with a laugh of contentment. ‘* Ain’t had sich a gay Swing at vittals this six months. “Don’t Blieve I'd do better if I had a free blow at the Continental kitchen. Them mashed *taters is better nor ice cream on toast, and lawsee, ain’t that chicken gravy jist prinie!” But, all good thing's come to an re and such was the case wifh Billy Brick’s supper, when nothing but bones and empty dishes were left on the table. “ There. Reckon I'm good fur a week,” he déclared as hé rosé, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and rubbed his hand clean on his coat. “Now where’s Miss Severn? S’pose she wants ter git some ’vicé "bout. inyestments, or some sich financial bizness. Don’t mind givin’ her a p’int, bein’s she’s been so jolly prime,” A laugh of amusemént echoed bis words. He turned, to see the pretty face of his entertainer, looking at him from thé doorway. “T knew you were a street philosopher,” she sdid. ‘But, I was not aware you were a finan- cier. Come this way, my lad. It is your good I want to talk about, not my own.” “Me? Oh, Pm good ds wheat, till the next time I’m hungry,” replied Billy, with a satisfied air, as he followed the young lady into a small room adjoining. He took a seat at Miss Severn’s suggestion, stuck hiS hat between his knees, and waited to hear from her, “You have done more than one job for me miy boy, and done therh well,” she began. “} 16
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. smilin 4 am interested in you, for I think you are an honest, well-meaning, and friendless youth.” “ Air’t got many triends ’cept my ten fingers, and same number o’ toes,” answered Billy. “Been kinder lonely ever, since Daddy Grim ste 1 out.” Paddy Grim? Who is he?” ‘+ He’s an old nutmeg grater as has. been look- in’ arter me ever since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. A royal old coon, too, though you kin bet he kin be as sour as pickled eysters, when things go criss-cross.” “You call him daddy. I thought you were an orphan. You have told me so,” ‘He’s only a second-hand daddy—'lected to fill the vacancy,” explained Billy. * Reckon, somehow, as he knowed my real parients, ’ca’ze he’s let out somethin’ bout me bein’ a mystery. But that ain’t tellin’s, Miss Severn. Only some- how that supper o’ yourn has ’iled my tongue.” “You can confide m me, my boy,” she re- | marked, ‘I brought you here to-day to talk with you on your future prospects, J don’t like to see a smart, well-built, capable lad like you, who are almost a man, passing your life like a street vagrant. It is higa time you were begin- ning life in earnest.” ‘“Them’s jist Daddy Grim’s sentiments,” re- | joined Billy, “He told me as much jist afore he pegged out.” “He ‘pegged out,’ and ‘stepped out.? What do you mean by such queer expressions? Is he dead?” “Him dead? Not much! seasoned hickory log. He’s gone West on biz. Dunno where or what, but don’t ‘spect ter see him back for two or three years.” A change came over Miss Severn’s face, an ex- pression of sudden satisfaction. It seemed al- most as if she had been fishing for information, “ That’s rather rough on you,” she remarked, with a laugh. ‘‘ To lose your oldest friend. Yet I suppose he will write to you?” $3 Don’t ‘spect nothin’ o’ the sort. Don’t know where he’s goin’ no more nor the man in the moon, and he didn’t ax me fur my post-office *dress.” “‘That was very shabby treatment.” ‘No it weren’t. He’s sound oak, Daddy Grim is. Didn't vamose “thout leavin’ me— But there goes my ’iled-up tongue ag’in. Reckon Td best shet down brakes on that there trotter.” ‘‘Why, my lad, if there is a secret left in your charge, or if the old gentleman has left anything of importance in your care, it is your business to be as still asthe grave. Never speak of it, even to me, whom you know to be your friend.” “That's jist "bout what he told me,” admitted Billy. ‘1 weren’t never to wag my jaw-bone %bout it. Not as I’m afeard o’ you, Miss Severn. But ’tain’t safe.” Miss Severn turned her face toward the win- dow, to conceal the peculiar expression that came upon it. When she looked back again at the boy there was an aspect of warm benevolence and interest upon her countenance. “Well, I declare,” she said, “this is growing interesting and exciting. When I asked you to come here to-day I did not dream that there was a romance in the air.” She drew ber chair closer up in front of Billy’s, and laid her white hands on the boy’s knees, while she looked earnestly in his face. “You have got me quite excited,” she de- clared, with a nervous little laugh. “I don’t want to know your secrets, but I don’t think it was fair in Mr. Grim to go away and leave you in danger.” “Reckon I can toe my line 'thout help,” re- marked Billy, eexwenty- He was a little dis- turbed and overcome by the vision of that pretty, face so near his own. ‘A friendless orphan like you in danger? No, no, you are in no position to take care of your- self. It was a Sage g shame to give you any dangerous charge, I'll tell you, my boy,” she earnestly continued. ‘Let me befriend you. Bring me tbis dangerous article, whatever it is. ‘Let me keep it for you, You can have no safe place to conceal it. Bring it here secretly, and your enemies will not dream of seeking for it in my charge.” The boy was in the lures of the siren. For the moment judgment, caution and sense were charmed out of existence, and he was com- pletely under the power of the fair and subtle woman before him, “‘ Yowre just an angel, Miss Severn,” he de- clared warmly, ‘‘J am kinder nervous *bout it. Til guy in. No more nor a my diggin’s, an’ if you'd be so kind as to take | “He will bring it. f it.” that keer 0 LT “« Why, of course I will.” ‘Then Dll fotch you the box to-night. But, mind you, Miss Severn, it’s got to be watched as close as a mince pie “long side of a rat-hole. It’s terrible important.” She laughed gayly at his simile, and struck his cheek familiarly with her (ingers. “Pll have to play the cat then, I suppose.” ‘“Tt’s only till I’m twenty one, Miss Severn. Then— But I reckon i’d best shut up.” ‘*T judge you had,” she laughed. ‘* You must hold your tongue better, or your secret will be out. But, what you have said will be safe with me. Bring the box here, and we'll see if it gives you any more trouble.” The conversation between the two strangely- assorted friends continued for some time longer, though now on indifferent topics. Miss Severn carefully avoiding any reference to the box. She was giving him advice as to his future life, and promised to use her influence to get him into a profitable situation, “TH fotch the thing to-night,” he said mys- teriously, as he left the veel “*Bout ten o’vlock, if *tain’t too late.” ‘That hour will do very well, Billy Brick. Mercy, what a name that is!” she laughed. ‘+ You ought to change it. It is best to come late. But be very careful you are not scen nor followed.” She held out her hand and clasped his brown paw as warmly as if she had been his best friend. The lad’s head was in a maze as he walked away. The feeling’s of a man were all astir in his young frame, and the love magic which the al- uring woman had flung around hin worked like a fire in his veins. He was not himself as he made his way home. What ailed him he could not have told, but he seemed walking on air. He was to return at ten that night. two or three hours intervening were as long to him as that many months. The house was too small to hold him, and it was not yet nine when he found himself on the street again, with the precious box hidden carefully under his coat. He looked around him heedfully as he passed through the street. The sion of that treasure made him wary, and all his old sharp- ness returned as he watched for — of peril. Yet no such signs appeared. ere was evi- dently no foe on his track. As he walked along a neighboring clock struck. He counted the strokes up to nine. “ Jist an hour ahead o’ time,” he said, discon- tentedly. ‘‘ Wonder what’s got inter my wis- dom-box? Guess I'll have to hang fire ma ar or Miss Severn ’I] think I’m no better nor a fool.” He changed his course and walked through street after street, trying to kill his spare hour. His steps took nearly the same course they had followed that morning, and he soon found himself ‘in the locality where he bad held the gentleman’s horse. J : Thinking of that incident, and feeling a little tired, the wenn boy halted before the house into which the horseman had entered, and uatted down in the corner between the house and the high flight of steps. Here he sat musing for several minutes. For the first time the doubt came to him whether he had been altogether wise in neglecting old Grim’s strict injunctions, and not only revealing his secret to another, but even agreeing to put his valued treasure in other hands. ‘‘ But it’s Miss Severn. An’ she’s jist as sweet as strained honey,” he declared. ‘‘ Queer if she isn’t safer nor I am myself.” His meditations we e interrupted at that mo- ment by the opening of the house door, Voices that seemed familiar to him came fromit. Two rsons came out on the steps. The house, as We have said, was the one which the borseman had entered that, morning. This fact led the listening boy to recognize the voice of the person king. It was undoubt- edly that of his assailant. But the other voice he had heard just as the door opened—who’s was that? It was a wom- an’s voice—that was all he was sure of, yet his veins tingled as if he had been struck by an arrow. ‘Very well played, Polly. Remarkably well played,” said the man, with a laugh of satisfac- tion. “I knew you could do it, though. It would be hard to find a match for you in your special art. You mesmerized him, eh?” _, ‘He left me with his head all in a swim,” came the laughing reply, in tones that, went like in’t got no fit hidin’-place round | an electric shock through the listener’s nerves. I have no fear about a Mul But the | ——— Re erate titre Lian > Billy Brick, the J olly Vagabond. ‘Tt is odd,” was the reply, “ after the old man has out-matched us for years, that the apple should fairly tumble mto our hands. But the game was very neatly played—the whip-trick, your indignant protest, and all.” The eyes of the unseen listener were widely opening. He drew his breath with a hissing sound between his teeth. Only by a strong et- fort could he keep himself down 1n his covert. ‘« He is only an unfledged boy, William,” came the woman’s answer. here could be no miis- take now—it was the voice of Miss Severn. “It would be odd if a Loe of old actors like you and me couldn’t checkmate a street vagrant. ‘As for the casket—” ** There's millions in it,” he hastily answered. “ Be wary as the serpent till it gets into your hands.” “‘ Trust me,” she briefly answered. She walked away, with those words. The wegen returned into the house. The boy remained dazed in his covert. For fifteen minutes not a muscle moved, though a whole river of thoughts seemed rushing through his brain. Then he rose slowly to his feet. Reckon the unfledged boy is beginnin’ to get his feathers on,” he muttered, ‘* We'll see, Wil- liam and Polly, which is goin’ to be the top dog in this fight.” : CHAPTER IV... THE LITTLE DOG IN THE FIGHT. Ir might naturally be supposed, atter the events just described, that Miss Polly Severn. would have waited in vaiu for the youthful vic- tim of her lures. And yet, strange to say, shortly after the hour appointed Billy Brick made his appear- ance at the door of her residence, with the bulg- | ing corners of a box lifting the waist of his coat. It is hard to follow the vagaries of a boy’s fancy. We would not have expected this of a lad as sharp as our street Arab. Yet, there he was. We must stick to the facts, no matter what we consider most natural. Miss Severn opened the door herself, with an eagerness in her face which she quickly re- ressed. ‘* Well!” she cried, with a gay lege. ‘¢ Here you are good twenty minutes late. Is that the way you keep your appointme=ts with a lady?” ‘“Couldn’t help it,” aa Billy. ‘Got stopped by a dog-fight. ou dunno what gay lerta there is in a dog-fight. Jist wanted ter see if ther little dog would whip.” “« And did he?” “You kin bet he did. You kin jist bet yer bottom dollar on that. Got the box here, Miss Severn. Dunno what’s in it, but it’s mighty vally’ble aca Grim says.” “The box! What box! Oh, yes! I declare I had almost forgot. I promised to take care of a box for you. Do come in, my boy. No one must see you give it to me.” Billy followed her into the house, with an odd smile on his begrimed countenance. Entering the parlor he took from under Lis coat the object that was there hidden, and laid it on the table. It was a square walnut box, with brass lock and hinges, certainly not the one which he had received from Daddy Grim, though of about the same shape. The subtle woman looked at it with hungry eyes. Her fingers twitched nervously, as if sbe had difficulty in restraining herself from seizing it in triumph. : Yet there was a very different expression oD the face she turned to the boy, ‘So you would sooner see a dog-figbt than see me?’ she queried, with a smile that disturbed Billy’s nerves. “ Well, if that isn’t a compli- ment!” : “ But I kalkerlated ter see both,” replied the lad very earnestly. ‘If you'd only see’d the little dog a-wrastlin’ with the big ’un I bet you'd ‘9’ stopped, too. And my, oh! didn’t the little *un whop the big un! It were jist good fur sore es. KMin't I good for sore eyes, Billy ?” she asked, taking the boy’s cheeks between ber bands, and holding bis face close up to hers. * Ain’t I better worth looking at than 4 fighting dog?” “Dunno,” he said, stoutly. “The dog were game, But you are jistas pretty as a pictur’, Miss. Severn; an’ jist as sweet as sugar candy; an’ you make me feel jist’s if I was in Heaven, playin’ tag-with the little angels.” “There! I must really kiss you for that.” She pressed her lips on the not uncomely, but not too clean lips of her victim. ] Billy’s head swam as she pushed him away with a gay laugh. He had passed through a pew experience in his young life.
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ihe You shall never have any trouble about it again. | chise = baby of a pile, either. But it was only through sheer good luck and reckless dash, he real truth of the matter ‘Trust me for that.” They all gathered closely round, with eager | was that he had sold the best half of his € Billy looked at her with a queer soberness of eyes and excited manner, as the man with the to his enemies, and was likely to pay well for expression. chisel pried at the close lid, and drove the sharp | his loose tongue. ““Guess Pll be goin’, Miss Severn,” he re- | steel deeper in with his hammer. | Daddy Grim’s injunctions had been forgotten. marked. There finally came a sharp, rending crack. | The villains knew that the treasure casket was *“Dear me! you are in a hurry to go. Are The screws gave way, and the lock was torn bod- | in the boy’s possession, you after another dog-fight”” ily out of the wood. The loosened box-lid flew! He had now before him a long fight with ‘“No. ’Tain’t that,” replied the boy. wide open with a jerk, | shrewd, powerful and pitiless op ments, whe “What is it, then?” They pressed still more ardently forward, and |! would take a ny means, good or bad, to gain © Tl tell you, if you won't get mad.” bent their eyes, with burning eagerness, on the their ends. “Tell me, then. Ill promise to keep in my | contents of the mysterious box. Time passed rapidly on from the date of the very best temper.” Then, there was a sudden change. _ events last described. The days lengthened into ‘Tes ’eause I’m afeard o’ you.” Two of the men grew pale. The third became | weeks, and the weeks into months. Yet all was “ Afraid of me? Why, what ails the boy?” red as blood in the face, while a ferocious oath | still and silent as the grave. “Tm jist afeard o’ you, If you’d kiss me | broke from his lips. The conspirators failed to show their hands. ag’in I reckon I'd howl. Dunno how’t is, but Polly Severn gave vent to a half-scream, tot- | No sign of their existence came to the boy. It couldn’t never stand much o’ that. Ain't got tered back, and fell in limp fashion into a chair | seemed as if they had given up their scheme. the nerve. Guess I’d best vamose.” ' behind her, Yet the serpent is most dangerous when it is Miss Severn fell back on the sofa in a perfect If they had beheld a deadly serpent coiled up | lurking in ambush. It is but waiting to throw breeze of laughter. It seemed as if she never | in the box, ready to dart out his poisonous lits victim off bis guard, to dart into him its eould stop. She broke out again and again | fangs, there could not havo been more signs of | deadly fangs. every time she fixedther eyes on the queer, sober | consternation. It this was the game it worked well with Bil- look of the boy. At length she sprung impul- Whut was it they saw? ly. His naturally reckless temper made him sively to her feet. The papers for which they looked were cer- | soon forget danger that he did not see. Before Come,” she cried merrily. ‘1 think, too, | tainly not there. | a month had passed he had half forgotten that you had better go. You will be the death of me At first sight the box appeared to be empty. | he had any enemies in the world. if you stay here much longer. You've been | Buta closer look showed that a sheet of white He had been sharp and wide-awake enough vaccinated, my boy; and it has taken, strong- | paper covered its bottom. for some time after his adventure with Polly ly.” On this sheet was a rather rude drawing of a | Severn. For a full week he had kept a keen ‘* Went clear in to the bones,” averred Billy. | dog-fight, between what might nave passed for | eye on her house, and on that of his enemy, the “Kinder set my ribs dancin’. Take another | a large bull-dog, and a shaggy rat terrier. horseman. dog-fight to fotch me to,” But the big dog was on his back, with his sut at the end of that time he bad discovered, In a minute or two more he was on the street, | heels in the air, and his mouth open, gasping for | much to his surprise and disgust, that he was the fair tempter standing in the doorway and | breath. watching a pair of empty nests, looking after him with an expressioh of mingted And the terrier was on top, with his teeth in The birds had flown. amusement and trium7h. the bull-dog’s throat, shaking him as if he had Both houses were empty. This he only dis- She might have felt differently had she seen | caught a rat. covered when new people moved in, the houses Billy’s face just then or heard his muttered | The drawing was very rude, yet it had been | being rented furnished. words. made by a hand with some natural talent, and Billy tried to learn frém these new people ‘Ice cream and pan-cakes, but weren't that | its meaning was very clear. something about the former tenants. But they nice!” he declared. ‘ But, if that sweet milk Beside it was the figure of a ragged boy, with | knew nothing about them. don’t go sour ‘fore we're many days older, then | his thumb on his nose and his fingers extended He then inquired of the house agent, whose this coon don’t know nothin’ ‘bout huckleberries.” | in the air, while from his grinning face came | address he had learned. All the way home the boy kept bursting into | the following words: This person told him that the gentleman, Mr. little short bits of laughter. Here and there he | ‘The \i'tle dog wins! How's that for high? | William Smithers, had left the city, end gone to paused and broke into a dance on the pavement. | Kinder rough on the bull-pup; but you bet the ter- | Florida to engage in the orange business, Some well of fun seemed to have burst out with- | Tier 8 all thar, all the time.’ As for the lady, Miss Mary Severn, she had in bim. After the moment of consternation a host of | moved north, and was going to spend a year “S’pose ‘tain’t fair ter take somethin’ fur | oaths, threats, and fierce exclamations broke out | with her aunt in Vermont. nothin’,” he nvuttered, ‘But, that there hoss- in the room. Under these circumstances they had ordered pare 4 ms =< Se . Til take the best of care of the box. | had mes provided himself with a hammer and a back rooster tried ter shove the queer on me, an’ The man named William fairly danced with | him to rent out their houses furnished to new I reckon I’ve got a right ter guv him his change | rage. tenants. fur a counterfeit nickel! Miss Severn sprung up, after a moment, her Billy turned away whistling. ‘“* Wonder if Miss Severn won't square up that | face blazing, her eyes flashing. ‘**So the bull pup’s got his rations; and the kiss by pullin’ my hair out next time? Reckon “The miserable, impudent, ugly little street ! tarrier’s the boss dog in the scrimmage,” he some ow as she'll try it on.” rat!” she ejaculated, as she snatched the satirical | ejaculated. ‘ Lawsee. if they ain’t tuk water “Ye’re kapin’ bad hours, me boy,” declared | drawing from the box. ‘ And to think what a quicker’n I ever see’d! Ain’t got as much back- Judy, as her tenant entered and looked for his | ridiculous fool I made of myself! Even going | bone as a slice 0’ watermelon, them coons.” key. ‘‘ What ye been doin’ abroad at this hour | so far as to kiss his dirty face! This is the dog- If Billy had known one thing he might not o’ the night, avick?” fight he kept talking about. He said he had | have felt so confident. For he would bave **Sowin’ wild clover, Judy. Reckon I'll go to | stopped to see a dog-fight, and the little dog won, | known that the house agent, who was so obligin in giving him information, had an ex to grin Ten minutes after he was as sound asleep as an “Tt seems to me he was not far out,” replied For this person, Jesse Johnson by the name on oak log. Billy’s wild clover was destined to come up ere many days had passed. And he was quite likely to reap some of the crop himself. Two days after the era of the events just nar- rated, several persons were gathered in a room of the house of Miss Polly Severn. One of them was the norseman whom we have already introduced to the reader. There were ae other gentlemen present, in addition to the ady. the third gentleman, who had kept somewhat | his sign, was no other than the cool member of cool. ‘So far the little dog has won. I tell | the pang who had been present at the opening of you what, cute as you were, the boy has been | the box. too much for you. We've got no baby to play It was his object to throw the boy off the with in this game.” : track, and he had well succeeded. “Tl tear his eyes out, the audacious repro- Satisfied that everything was safe Billy spent bate!” screamed the baffled woman, who was | his days in bis old light-hearted and rollicking more angered at the insult to her charms than | fashion, with no sign that he had a care in the in regard to the humbug of the box. — world, ““Tll teach him a lesson that he will not for- As we have said three months passed in this get as long as he lives!” . quiet way. The boy retained his room at Judy “But you must catch your bird before you ulligan’s. And the box remained safe where confiding boy had mtrusted to his much promis- | can put’ salt on his tail." See here, gentlemen, | he had hidden it. ing lady friend. you may as well stop your swearing, and Miss | So far he had hit no steady employment, but The whole party were smiling with hope and | Severn may as well take her defeat mildly, The | roamed about in his old reckless way, from job satisfaction as they looked down on this object, | boy is not the fool you took him to be—that is | to job. which seemed of high value in their eyes. the long and short of it.” Full half his time was spent in enjoyment, ‘** Are you certain that the lost casket fell into ** Well, I should rather calculate not.” declar- Thus, on a day at the end of the three mont Grim’s hands?” asked one, ed Harry. ‘Talk about having your eye-teeth | Billy was on an open lot in the lower city, with “There is no question about it. Jerry is | cut! He’s got his filed down sharp as needles.” | a ¢roup of boys mostly younger than himself. ready to swear to it.” ‘Rut he has the real casket. I am sure of They were a sharp and ragged crew, mostly “But he may have transferred some of the | that,” bootblacks and newspaper venders. contents.” ** So am I!” declared Miss Severn. What occupied them now wes one of Billy’s ‘Not he. He has been watched like a hawk | ‘Very well, then. It. is plain we have no | favorite amusements, a dog-fight. for years.” common opponent to deal with, We must take Both the dogs were cuts, worthless canine “Then we have a fortune at our fingers’ | new messures with this boy. That casket must | vagrants, hardly worth the stray bones on ends?” J | be ours,” ; which they lived. “Well, I should rather imagine! And no} _ ‘“‘ Itshall be. if he has to be settled for good,” | Yet they were game to the hack-bone, and T would never have | declared William. fought as peers as the best thoroughbred iven the time I bav* spent on this for any | ‘Then let us talk it over, We have a very | conld have done. | rifle, you can be sure o° that.” | hard nut to crack. I promise you that.” The boys were wild at the spirit with which _ “You talk too muc’,’ declared Miss Seyern, The four conspirators settled down into a long | the curs snarled, bit, and tussled, and came up impatiently, “T have some interest in this | conference. again to the music without a sign of a back- affair myself, And T calculate to be paid well oleae down. : for my share in it. So open the box, and let us CHAPTER V. ‘Go it, yaller belly!” yelled one urchin, dane- see what we have,” FUN AMONG THE ARABS, ing with delight. ; They bad alrcaty tried various keys upon it | As the case stood, Billy Brick had the best of |“ Pelt in, bloody nose!” roared another. “ Hike without effect. It was necessary to force the | the fight. The rat terrier bad taken.the starch on, game pup!” cover open. For this purpose one of the party | out of his opponents, “The little ’un’s my dorg, fer a pile.” bed, and wait till it comes up.” | drat his ugly picture!” On a table before them lay the box which the
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———— “T bet on the sotter.” The boys crowded up enthusiastically, each cheering his favorite. There was getting to be warm blood among them. “What you scrougin’ me fur? right here as you.” ** Dry up, top-knot, or Pll bu’st yer b’iler.” “You can’t co it, Billy Brick. "Tain’tin your bones to do it.” “?Tain’t, eh?” cried Billy, eying his opponent disdainfully. The boy was larger than himself, but not so well knit. “No, tain’t. If you guv me any more o’ your slack, Til slap yer mouth.” “Go ahead, Bandy, if yer want ter see blue lightnin’,” retorted Billy, in sneering good hu- mor. ‘“ Here’s my ’tater-mill. Slap it.” He held up his mouth with such a tantalizing in, to his opponent, that the latter took him at fis word, and brought his hand down on it’with a sounding slap. The next moment he wished he hadn’t, For the good humor in Billy’s eyes suddenly changed to a flash of fire. With a quick movement Billy stooped down, caught the unprepared boy around the legs with a powerful clutch, and rose with him in his arms. A strong send, and the astonished lad was hurled in on top of the two tussling dogs, bring- ing out a perfect chorus of howls from their scared throats. Thinking this was a new dog in the fight, both of them sunk their sharp teeth into the boy’s hide, and it wasn’t long before there was a new how! added to the chorus. As for the ring of wild young rascals, they danced and yelled with delight at the sight, while Billy stood looking on with a grim cur! of the lips. *“* Like ter take another slap?” he queried, as the howling boy scrambled away from the dogs’ teeth. ‘‘Won’t charge nothin’, if yer feel like peggin’ in.” he discomfited boy looked up so sheepishly that the others burst out into another roar. “Hey, there! What is the matter with you fellows?” demanded a sharp voice from the edge of the pavement. ‘‘I’ve called you twice now.” At this demand. the boys turned toward fhe street. They saw a trotting-carriage drawn up by the sidewalk, occupied by two men, one of whom had called: “What is the matter there?” “On’y a dog-ficht,” answered one of the va- . “e ta jict 7 - r > > prec. But it’s jist jolly. Want to come Got as much “Well, not just now,” said the gentleman, with a short laugh. ‘‘ Whois the smartest boy in this crowd? that’s what I want to know.” “Guess you'd best light on Billy Brick. You'd say so if you see’d him guv a fielder to Bandy Bones jist now.” “T saw it,” laughed the man. ‘*Step up this way, Billy. Can I trust you to doan errand for me?” “ Reckon,” answered Billy, shortly. fork out lively *nough.” “Pl give a half-dollar, if you'll promise to be prompt and quick.” “Tumble it out. I’m yer hoss.’ “T have forgotten something important. I want a note taken at once to this address. Can ou read writing?’ *‘Should smile if I couldn’t. Didn't go ten years to ther University fur nothin’.” **T see vou are wide awake—I can trust you. Very well. Take this note to the address writ- ten onit. Wait for an answer, and bring it to me promptly at the Lamb Tavern. Do you know where that is?” ** You bet.” “Then don’t let the grass grow under your feet.” “ Ain’t yer furgot somethin’ ?” “What's that?” “The “ile to grease my shin-benes.” ** What does the boy mean?” “He means the money,” suggested the other gentleman. “Oh! Wants cash in advance, eh? That ain’t my way.” “ Ain’t trust and trust a good game?” queried the independent boy. “Very well. Here is half your fee. I will give you the balance when you bring the an- “Tf you J er. “That's old hokey. Guv me the letter. You tin bet no grass won’t grow under my _ toes. Not outer the brick pavement, anyhow, if I take a iti fos ith this last dig the boy turned, and was off a ; \ at a speed that would easily bring him to his | } he was in search of standing alone in its square. | Billy Brick, the Jolly Vagabond. | destination in a half-hour. He did not notice the look with which the two | men followed his active form, as he loped away with the speed of an Indian scout. **A well-set youngster,” said one, with an ad- miring glance. ‘*And likely to be well laid,” rejoined the other, with a queer smile, as he touched the whip to the horse, The boys, who had been highly interested in this episode, now turned back to the dog-fight. But the curs had taken the opportunity to escape, both of them having had a full dose of the tight. Bandy Bones was the only interesting figure left, and he was busy examining his hurts with a very rueful countenance. Meanwhile, the young sharply along on his errand, very well satisfied to earn a half-dollar in an hour’s work. The address which he had been given was a street far down-town, on the outskirts of the city, in fact. On reading it, the alert messenger found that it was in a very thinly-settled district, the house messenger pushed It was a large, somewhat gloomy-looking mansion, surrounded by a yard, and a high fence, Paying little heed to this, the active lad open- ed the yard gate, strode up the marble steps, and gave a hard pull to the bell. A servant quickly came to the door. ** A letter here,” declared Billy. Light, ain’t it? ‘Wants an answer at top speed. That man lives here?’ “Yes. Comein. I will take it to him.” ** Be lively "bout it, then. The chap as sent it hired me fer a two-legged telegraph.” ‘Then you’d best deliver it yourself. Come in. I will show you to Mr. Smithers’s room.” Billy readily obeyed. That seemed all fair and square. * Follow me up-stairs,” said the man. has his office on the third floor.” The boy followed unsuspiciously. Thoy soon reached the third floor of the house. The servant led along a narrow entry to a room at its rear end. He opened the door of the room and stepped in. Billy stood in the doorway. ‘‘TTe is not here,” said the man, in a tone of ** He must be down-stairs. ? se He surprise. Sit down. I will look him wp.’ ““T'll wait here,” answered the messenger, leaning easily against the door-post. The servant looked at him foran instant with a peculiar expression. Then he turned shortly on his heel. ‘Wait then,” he said, as he walked away. He was gone for several minutes. When he reappecred at the head of the stairs it was with a stealthy step. He looked along the entry. longer in the doorway. into the room. With a look of satisfaction, and the light tread of a fox, the man glided rapidly along the Billy was no He had evidently gone carpeted floor. Reaching the door, which opened outward, in a moment he had slammed it to, and turned the key in the lock. ‘Just wait there, my sharp lad, till Mr. Smithers comes. He won’t be long, maybe.” Laughing at his own wit, he turned quickly away, without waiting for an answer from his entrapped prisoner. CHAPTER VI. JUDY MULLIGAN AND THE SEARCH-WARRANT, In a lower room of the house into which Billv Brick bad been entrapped, sat two men. A glance is enough to show that they were two of the conspirators, William Smithers, and Jesse Johnson the house-agent. The third of the party, Harry Tompkins, was he who had sent the boy on his dangerous er- rand. After along silence the villains had shown their hands, and made a successful moye. The boy was in their power. It remained to get possession of the mysterious box, Then it might be possible that a certain street boy would disappear from the ranks of society. These men were not apt to let the life of a vagrant boy stand in the way of their schemes. They had heard the report of the servant with immense satisfaction, and had since then had an hour’s earnest conference. They were just ready to bring their conversa- | tion to an end. ; ‘The little idiot has tumbled neatly into our net,” said Smithers, with great enjoyment, ; orce, ** He’s a sharp young rat, but he is hardly fit to cope against old hands.” _**Hardly,” rejoined the other, as he buttoned his coat and took his hat. ‘I will be off at My plan is well laid, and cawnot fail. | don’t fancy that you will let the boy play any sharp games on you.” “What do you mean? Escape from that } room?” ‘Sen, ‘*Do you take me for a fool? will only be to one place,” ‘* Where is that?” “The place from which no one ever comes back to tell tales.” Jesse slightly shuddered at the cold-blooded 1alignity of his companion’s tone. “Don’t talk about that,” he muttered. “What must be, must be. But the fewer words the better.” “You ain’t growing chicken-hearted?” de manded Smithers, with a sneer. ‘‘ Remember what there is in this, old fellow. Have you for- gotten the Sterling estate?” “No. And it is something to stop a boy’s breathing organs for. But you are so horribly If he escapes, it suggestive. You always give m@ a nervous spasm. There. Itisall gone now. Il be off.” Pulling down his hat, with a resolute look on his face, he left the room. We might follow the tricky house-agent on bis path, but it will be better to go ahead of him to his destination. This was the house of Judy Mulligan. That good,lady was occupied in her household chores, and singing to herself an air of an old Irish ballad, when a loud knoek came upon her front door. Without waiting for her to open it the person knocking opened the door and walked in. There were two persons in fact. One of them bore the sly and tricky face of Jesse Johnson. The other was a more roughly-dresed fellow, with a bull-dog face. The house-agent looked at Judy, whose face bore no pleased expression. ‘““Are you the mistress of this house?” he asked. ‘*Faix an I fancied I was, beyant this mo- ment,” she declared, placing her arms akimho, with a spiteful look in her eyes. ‘ But whin folks walk in widout so much as ‘by yer l’ave,’ it sames a’most as if I’'d abdicated.” ‘Oh, keep your temper, good woman. The law gives us the right to open any door.” ‘Good woman, 1s it? ['d have ye know that I’m noneo’ yer good woman. An if ye came here callin’? me out o? me name J’ll take the poker to ye as sure as my name’s Judy Mulli- ‘There, there, there!” cried Jesse impatiently. “Tl go back and knock if it will put you ina rood-humor. But we are officers of the law, Mistress Mulligan. We are here on legal busi- ness, and will have no obstructions put in our way.” *‘ Of the law?” she repeated, with a show of un- easiness. ‘Sure an Deve done nothin’ in me mortal life ts offind law an justice. An Pm obleeged to think as ye’ve sadly mistook the house,” “There’s no mistake about it, my good lady, if you like that better than good woman. There is nothme against yourself, but you are harbor- ing a thief. | You have in your house a boy, one Billy Brick?” “Him a thafe? Tllniver helave it! Not if you got on yer marrowhones, an swore the skies green!” “Tris the fact, whether you believe it or not. And we have no time to stand here parleying- The young Villain has stolen a valuable box from the jewelry store of Jones & Wilson. We bave reason to believe it is concealed in your house, and we are here to search for it.” ‘*He’s no thafe! It’s not in the boy! my house wid yer lies.” **We will leave it with the box,” sneered Jesse. ‘Save your words, Mrs. Mulligan. Where is your boarder?” ‘“Sorra the one o’? me knows. Ye monght as well ax me where’s the man in the moon,” “Then show us to his room. We must and will search it.” i sip Judy looked at her pair of visitors for a mo- ment, as if not quite sure what was best to do under the cireumstances. Then she suddenly turned on her heel and led the way to the stairs. “Folly me,” she said. ‘I’ve nothin’ to con- sa L’ave le.” They followel her to the third floor of her sorry house: Here she paused before the door of a small rear apartment,
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\ *€ Ye're here now,” she said. With a look of satisfaction, Jesse turned the handle of the door, It failed to yield to his touch. ‘Tt is locked,” he remarked. ‘Sure an’ I didn’t say as it wasn’t.” **Then let us have the key. At once, wom- an!” “The kay, is it?” “Yes, the key,” he cried, impatiently. *¢ An’ it’s not in the door, thin?” ‘“No. Can’t you see for yourself?” ‘‘ Thin, ’m sadly afeard the gossoon has it. He’s sometimes very quare about that key,” she replied, with great innocence. ‘Oh! break the door open!” cried the rough man, now speaking for the first time. “Can't you see that the woman is chaffing you?” ~ * An’ who might yerself be, avick?”. queried Judy, facing him. ‘“‘T aman officer of the law. enough of this fooling.” * An officer of the law! Faix, an’ ye look more loike a private of the law. An’ ye know so little aboot the law as to think ye can break open doors at yer pleasure? If ye’ll take the advice of an old ’oman, as is not quite a grane- horn, ye’ll not be afther touching that door.” ‘* And why not, madam?” demanded Jesse, an- grily. ‘“"Bekase this is my house. And my house is my castle. Ye’ve shown no s’arch-warrant. An’ if ye touch stick or stone on these premises widout a reg’lar s’arch-warrant, I'll have the law av ye, as sure as I was born in old Ireland. An’ ye kin put that in yer pipe an’ smoke it.” The two men looked at one another. ‘“‘Don’t heed her blather!” cried the rough fellow. ‘Say the word, and I'll have the door open in a jiffy.” “Ye will, ye omadhoun? We'll see about that!” exclaimed Judy, as she flew to a window that overlooked the street and threw it up. ‘‘ If you lay yer dirty paws on that door widout showin’ your authority, Pll rouse the neighbor- hood. An’, be jabers! I'll have ye tossed out the windy fur bloody burglars!” The men looked at one another again. had evidently met their match. A whispered conference took place between them. Then Jesse advanced. ‘* You are giving us unnecessary trouble,” he averred, ‘‘ The warrant has been issued, but we have not brought it with us. You have no right to obstruct the process of the law.” ** When I want instruction in the rights of an American citizen, [ll come tell-ye,” retorted Judy viciously. ‘‘ An’ if ve want to know the power there is in an Irishwoman’s tongue, ye’ll touch that door ayant ye. Faix an’ I’m not quite as ignorent es ye take me.” Her assailants were evidently baffled. conferred again. ‘‘You kave the right to demand a sight of the warrant,” acknowledged Jesse, ‘‘ As we have forgotten to bring it with us, I will return and get it. But while I am gone this gentleman must be-left on guard in the house. We ean run no risk of having the stolen articles re- moved,” “Ts no confiderate o’ thaves T am,” declared Judy a little mollified. ‘‘ And l’d be the last to obstriet the reg’lar process 0’ the law. The gin- tleman kin have one o’ me best cheers at the foot o’ the stairs. It’s not fur a dacent Irish- woman to obstrict justice.” This suggestion was satisfactory to the assum- ed law officers. In a few minutes more Jesse had departed, and his rough-faced comrade was seated at the foot of the narrow stairway, com- pletely cutting off access to the upper portion of the house. ‘¢ An’ it’s not tolave ye widout comfort I'd be,” remarked Judy. “If ye'd loike a pull at me bit of a pipe I don’t moind fillin’ it fur e,” mee No, thank you,” the fellow laughed. ‘‘ But T'll smoke a cigar, if you'll bring me a light.” Judy did so, and then returned to her culinary labors in the kitchen. , She was thoroughly satisfied. She had fully asserted her rights aS a@ householder. But she knew enough about the law not to go too far- She would not venture to hinder the serving of a legal search-warrant. As for Billy Brick she could not easily be brought to believe him a thief. The minutes passed away, Over Judy in the kitchen, and her smoking visitor in the hall. A full hour and more passed by before Jesse Johnson returned, : This time he knocked, and waited till the mis. tress of the house opened the door. “Now, Mrs. Mulligan, ‘‘ he remarked, with And I’ve had They They ill-concealed triumph. ‘‘ You can have no fur- ther objection. duly signed and sealed. a magistrate’s constable, will show it to you.” The person of whom he speke entered the Billy Brick, the Jolly Vagabond. 7 I have here a search-warrant, | This gentleman, who is | ing. Yet there was no rope, no ladder, no means of | escape from within. house behind him, and showed the good lady an | important-looking document, while he began to read with great dignity. Mrs. Mulligan listened in some awe at the long-jointed legal tern.s. “That is satisfactory, gentlemen,” she said. | ‘¢T]l put ye to no further trouble.” ** Very well, then. We must force the door.” ‘¢ There’s little occasion for that. I remember now where the gossoon left the kay.” Jesse stared, and growled under his breath. He had evidently been humbugged. There was a look of sarcastic triumph on the woman’s face that roiled him, Yet, with an effort, he kept quiet, and took the proffered key without a word. ** Come,” he briefly remarked. The guard rose from his chair as they entered the hall, and threw down the remnant of his cigar. ‘**T can vouch that no one has entered or gone ; out,” he declared. ‘Then all is right,” rejoined Jesse. He led the way up-stairs, followed by his two companions, while Mrs. Mulligan brought up base rear, with a very peculiar smile upon her ace. Reaching the door of the boy’s room, Jesse handed the key to the constable. ‘“‘It is you that represent the law,” he said. ‘You had better open the door.” The latter did so without hesitation, and ad- vanced into the room, followed by the other. Yet the whole party came to a sudden halt, with an exclamation of astonishment. For in the only chair which the sorry room contained, sat no less a personage than Billy Brick, with his hat cocked well over on his leit | ear, his thumbs in his vest arm-holes, and his sauciest look of independence on his face. ‘“* By the Lord Harry!” cried Jesse, in a spasm of fright. “Is it a ghost? It is impossible that—” He quite broke down and stood trem- bling and staring at the figure before him. **Solid oak, 7 reckon,” answered the boy. ‘*Tf you’ve got any doubts, jist put yer finger between my teeth, and [ll try my best to con- vince you whether it’s a ghost or a human crit- ter. CHAPTER VIL THE ADVENTURES OF BILLY BRICK, BEFORE proceeding to describe what followed the strange discovery in Judy Mulligan’s house, we must ¢o back a step in our story and relate the adventures of Billy Brick. An hour or two before he had been, to all | seeming, safely locked up ina prison room. It | seemed impossible to get out of the houre into which he had been entrapped, and equally im- | possible for himeto get past the guard on Judy Mulligan’s stair, and enter his room. + Yet there he was. It was a remarkable transformation scene,” whose workings we must explain, for the reader’s benefit. In fact, just about the time that Jesse John- son was making his surprising discovery, William Smithers, at the head-quarters of the confederates, was making a discovery that sur- prised him just as much. In pursuance of his schemes he had judged it expedient to have an interview witb his prisoner, and had made his way to the prison room, ac- companied by the servant, who was really en- gaged to act as guard upon the prisoner. ‘“ The young rascal is keeping very quiet,” he said. “T fancied he would get ina rage, and toss the furniture.” ** Why he has taken it very calmly,” answer- ed the guard. ‘I have not heard a movement or a sound since he went in there. have been stunned with the discovery that he was a pri ener,” ** Tt looks like it,” answered Smithers, shortly. ‘Open the door.” The servant did so. And then the two men started back in as great a surprise as had their confederates in Judy Mulligan’s house. The room was empty. After amoment Smithers sprung forward with acry of rage, He rushed from side to side of the room, ex- amining the bed and the closet,-with an idea that the prisoner must be in hiding. But no trace of him could be found. There was but one window. Below that was a sheer descent of thirty feet of wall. Back of it was a wide yard, and an open country, Aid He must | Nothing about the room was disturbed. Every- thing remained precisely as it had been at the boy’s entrance. Smithers stopped his investigation and turned his eyes suspiciously on the guard. “* You let him out, you rascal!” “‘ AsT am aliving man, I did not.” **Then you never locked him in. villain has never been in that room.” “As I am a living man, I left him there and turned the key on him.” “Then blame me fora blind beggar if the thing isn’t too much for me. I swear I can’t see through it.” We must leave them to get at the bottom of the mystery in the best way they can, and return to the cunning lad who had so neatly got the best of his roguish enemies. Mysterious as his escape seemed to the latter there was really no mystery about it, but the whole thing was as simple as possible. Smithers had made a shrewder guess than he fancied. The boy bad never been in the room. More from chance than good luck he had discounted his enemies’ game, and had not been for a moment a prisoner. Billy’s refusal to enter the room had saved his The young | liberty. No sooner had the servant disappeared than the restless lad began to look about him. He was curious to see what bind of a house it was, though he had not a suspicion of anything being wrong. ‘* Shouldn’t call that there room much of an office,” he remarked. ‘‘ Looks like a bed-room *cept that little desk ‘ginst the wall. You bet when I start an office it’ll be more tony nor that.” He stepped out into the narrow entry. There was a closed door at his right, leading into a side room. Curiosity led him to open this door, and take a peep into the room, ‘“*Nother bed-room,” he muttered. ‘* Tonier than t’other one. And yonder’s a mighty nice pictur’ over the mantle. Reckon I'll take a closer squint.” He entered the room and walked toward the picture which had attracted his attention. The door swung quietly to behind him, until it stood but slightly ajar. He was still admiring the painting when the servant passed along the hall with his cat-like tread, This saved the imperiled kav. Had he heard a footstep he would have left the room, He had not a remote suspicion of fraud. The first thing that attracted his attention was the quick slam of a door, and the squeal of a rusty lock, as its key was quickly turned. Billy started in surprise. He moved hastily across the room to the door. Just as he reached it he hearda satirical laugh in the entry, and the voice of the servant soying: “Just wait there, my sharp lad, till Mr. Smithers comes. He won’t be long, mayte.” The boy stopped short, his hand on the door. His eyes had been suddenly and decidedly opened, He had not only smelt a rat, but he had seen every inch of the queer little animal, from his nose to his tail. He was on the point of giving a long whis- tle—but checked himself and concluded he wouldn’t. *“Obm;! Hoopee! Ha! ha! hcssfly !” he broke out in suppressed tones, ‘‘ Dunder and bhitzen but things is gay! Oh, lawsee! it’s wu’th a wagon load o’ sourcrout, and a little dog ‘tween the hind wheels! Kinder lost my brains, gentlemen o’ the jury, but I’ve sorter found ’em ag’in. Talk *bout mince-pie and pound-cake bein’ rich! Why, they can’t hold a penny dip “long side o’ this. Soho! I’ve jist got out o’ chancery by the skin 0’ my teeth. I bet you a saucer full o’ pickled ing- yins I don’t gitin ag’m. It’s my innin’s. now, and jist see if 1 don’t handle the tet a trifle slicker than these coons. Guess I'll kinder slide out o’ this, and guv ’em a call,” He left the room, with a merry snicker, which he quickly suppressed Th se were dangerous quarters. mind his eye. He made his way down-stairs with great cav- tion, wide awake to every sound that came to his sharp ears. Gat. An hour passed, and Billy Brick was still in that building. He had found good openings t get out, but he did not want to go just yet. e He must ae we
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= ae _— ae Billy Brick, the A Ma very, wanted to get an idea of the make-up of that mansion. Some day a knowledge of tne ins and outs of that Louse might stand him in good stead. be up to some trick. Several times in Lis stealthy roaming he had | come near discovery by some ef the inmates. But a hasty slip juto an adjoining roon, ora handy closet, had saved him. A half-hour of his time, indeed, he had spent in the kitchen cupboard, where he liad been cor- raled by a fat cook. On her departure to the rear yard the conceal- ed boy slipped hastily out, and shot forward into the dining-room, and from there to the front region of the house, He had about enough of it now, and had slipped into a side room, with the intention of making his exit by a window, when the sound of voices met his ears. He stopped and listened. The voices came from an adjoining room, through a communi- cating door, Curious to hear what it was all about, in a moment Billy had his ear at the key-hole of this door, intently listening. What he heard sent him into a cold shiver, as if a bucket of icy water bad been flung over him. It was the conclusion of that conversation be- tween the two conspirators which we beve al- ready given, in which they had debated in cold blood the murder of their youthful prisoner. Something else stuck to the listener’s ears. The conspirators spoke of the ‘‘ Sterling Estate” as the object of their schemes. The Sterling Estate? There was something familiar in the sound. He had certainly heard it before. He grew curious on the spot to know something more about this estate. While this was running through his head the conference of the conspirators ended. One of | them left the room, bent on some project which | the wide-awake boy fancied related to himself. Was tlis chap after the treasure-box that he had hidden in his reom? 3illy felt that there was no time to lose. After all his efforts he might lose the valuable object left in his charge unless he made baste. And he felt that there was more than life de- pended upon it. He was sure that future fortune was locked up in that casket. He ran to the window, with intent to leap out. To his dismay there was the tricky ser- vant, tying up some flower bushes outside. Te hurried to the door, hastily when he heard a footstep in the Smithers ing up and down the hall, as if for exercise. The impatient boy was nailed on both sides. He crouched in a corner of the room, biting his lips in spite. For more than half an hour he remained there, curled up in a heap, and growling like a trapped wild-cat. Still that steady step went up and down the hall. Still the gardener kept at bis work be- neath the window. slipping by. “By Jiminy, I won’t stand it any longer!” declared the impatient lad. ‘* Mought as well vall. but eee as | his own | had left the room, and was walk- | The precious minutes were | lose my head here as lose my fortune there, | Bet I kin outrun that galoot, anyhow, Here goes fur a dive.” He glided to the window. A glance out brought a spasm of delight to his heart. The gardener was gathering up his clippings. He was about to depart. The uneasy boy waited with the utmost im- patience, He could hardly stind_ the fellow’s slow movements. himself for five minutes more, when the man walked deliberately away with his load. Hardly had he turned the corner ere the boy was out cf the window, and had shot.around the opposite corner of the house. The front gate was before him, and no one in the way. A minute took him into the open street. He was free at last from a frightful peril, and he flung bis hat triumphant)y into the air, as he hurried along the thinly-built street, A half hour afterward found him in the street of his own residence, the noisy avenue graced by Judy Mulligan’s habitation, The boy entered the house and inade his way Yet he managed to restrain | back to the kitchen without coming 1n sight of | the stairs, where the guard was then on duty. Judy was there. On seeing her tenant she held up her band in quick warning. “Don’t spake, avick!” she cried, in low, ex- cited tones. ‘ There’s one o’ thim yander. It’s a thafe they say ye are.” " “They're bloody liars!” exclaimed the lad, in surprise and indignation, ‘I knowed they'd They ain’t been in my room, Judy?’ ‘* Smother yer voice, will ye? Kape still, an T'H tell ye it all.” Billy obeyed, while the excited woman rapidly ran over the story of the late events. * An r and it’s ninute by minute I’m expectin’ the im- perdent loon back.” ‘To search my room?” ‘* An’ have ye anything there, thin?” ™ ‘* Nothin’ but what’s got a right there. But there’s somethin’ these fellers ’d give a gold-mine fur. I naust get it out.” ** Paix, an’ ye’ll have throuble to git past that bull-dog on the stairs.” ** Him!” exclaimed Billy, in contempt. ‘* You 11 'see me discount him. There’s more ways nor one in gittin’? to my room. Do you know ’ how I do when I’m out late o’ nights, and you | slack.” lock the door on me?” ‘*Siape out, [ suppose. ‘“Not much!” langhed Billy. yere an’ [’ll show you.” He led the way into the yard, followed by the curious woman. A rough shed stood here, which served as a summer kitchen, Vith the agility of a fox Billy mounted to the roof of this by the aid of a short plank. {t brought him to the level of the second floor. The window of bis room was some ten feet above him. ” “Come out Taking a long pole that lay on the shed, he | leaned it against the building, fixing the lower end securely in a crevice of the : oof, Like a cat he climbed its slippery length, heedless of the fact that it bent beneath his weight. A minute brought his hands within reach of the window. He grasped the sill with both hands. As he did so the pole slipped and fell, leaving him dangling against the side of the house. But be was too active to mind that. He lift- ed himself by his arms, released one hand to throw up the sash, and in a minute more he had swung his lithe fori into the window, and was looking down on Mrs. Mulligan with a roguish laugh. ‘* The devil’s in the boy,” muttered that good lady, as she re-entered the kitchen. ‘ Faix, an’ it’s lucky (ve nothin’ to timpt burglars, if me house can be entered so ’asy as that,” Her return to the kitchen was hastened by a knock on the front door. ‘* Hist, lad,” she cried to Billy. It’s back they are ag’in.” She made her way slowly to the door, to give the boy time to act. Yet it took him some time to regain the box, which he had hidden with great care. He had just reached the window with it, when he heard steps and voices at the door. The pole was gone. It was too late to escape. Yet one thing could be done. He held the box out of the window and let it fall. It dropped down by the side of the shed, and fell into a clump of long’ grass that grew there. The grass Blades gave way, and then curved over it, hiding it completely. When the door opened the tenant of the room was seated in a very easy attitude, and witha very saucy face, as we have described at the end of the last chapter. ‘Be spry. CHAPTER VIII. BILLY BRICK RECEIVES VISITORS. WE need not repeat what we have already said, that the rascally house-agent, Jesse Jobn- son, was utterly overwhelmed by surprise, on seeing’ the boy, whom be had supposed locked up in a distant dungeon, seated in his room, with a saucy grin on his self-confident face. “This is incredible!” with white face and trembling hands, ‘‘ How did you get here?” ‘Traveled yere on shank’s mare, I reckon,” answered the boy, coolly. ‘‘Come up in Mrs. Mulligan’s elevator.” ‘*But you should! be—you were somewhere else,” stammered the astounded agent. ‘“oRore I come here, you mean? Reckon as how IT was. Be’n in two or three somewhere elses.” ‘* Hang it!” cried Jesse, losing his temper and prudence at the boy’s saucy manner. ‘ You were under lock and key. You were locked up in tight quarters. How did ‘you get out?” “Dunno what ye’re hintin’ at,” answered the unmoved boy. ‘‘Ain’t been nowhere ‘cept here.” “You lie, you young rascal!” cried the furi- ous agent. “That mought be,” rejoined Billy. “*’Tain't SD OP OTM ae | Jolly Vagabond. it’s after a s’arch-warrant he is now, |. $e eS ee the fu’st time as some darned fool bas tcld me that. Reckon maybe as how IT don’t allus toe the line straight up to the truth.” _ “Blast your icpudent eyes! Vi sLake you into ribbons if you con't Lold your seucy tongue!” ‘Wish you would,” replicd Filly, wi'hout changing a muscle in bis face. ‘ Like ter bave my dinner settled. Ain’t bau time ter take my usual hessback ride in the Park.” The furious agent edvanced upon him, en- raged heyond control by the saucy coolness of his opponent. But be was stopped by the voice of his rough- faced companion. ‘* Oh, let the hoy alone!” he remarked. ‘‘ Don’t yeu see he’s only chafing yeu? You ought to have wit enough to know that you can’t stop that chap’s tongue from wagging unless you cut it out. We didn’t come here for street Jesse stopped short at this reproof, “You are right. I was playing the fool,” he acknowledged. ‘* We must search the room at one, Billy looked at them. ‘ts that all fair and square?” he asked, “They've got a s’arch-warrant,” said Judy, with a knowing look at her tenant. ** They sarved it on me,” ‘Didn't serve it on me,” rejoined Billy. “‘Reckon as how I’m the proprietor o’ this here room. Got to serve it on me ’fore I'll let eny cn %m touch a stick o’ my furnitoor. S’pose I snow scmethiw’ "bout ther law.” At this demand, the constable procuced his warrant and read it:to the imperturbable boy, who listened with great composure, insisting upen every word being read, aud the bard legal terms translated. “Sioned ‘Alderman Jenkins.’ Let me fee that signatoor’. Can’t play no counterfeit on this chicken.” The constable showed it to him. ““Reckon that’s the alderman’s ink-splash. Seen it afore. Go “head, hosses. Billy Brick ain’t fool ‘nough ter git in ther wey o’ the law. Sooner try ter butt a locomotor cff the track.” Thus given permission, the officers began their search. But the kouse-agent, who yet seemed in a flurry from his sury7 ise, came up to the boy and asked in a low tone: ‘““You may as well tell the truth. How did you get into the room? The door was locked and the key down-stairs,” ‘Tumbled inter it, down the chimbly,” an- swered Billy. Jesse clinched his hand, as a flash of enger shot across his face. But he restrained bimeelf, and asked: . **How did you get out of that other room, when the door was locked, and the key gene?” ‘Tumbled outer it, up the chimbley,” answer- ed the boy, with the same easy coolness. ‘*“You impudent liar and reprobate!” cricd Jesse, bursting into a sudden fury, and clutch- ing for the boy, with intent to give him the shaking be had promised. But he only clutched the chair, out of which Billy had slipped like a weasel. He was now seated on the window-sill, with a broad grin on his saucv face, ‘Want any more information, mister?’ he asked. ‘Got any houses ter rent where ther chim! levs don’t work that way?” ** Houses to rent?” ‘“‘ Reckon vou spose [don’t know yer. I never furcit a pretty phiz like yourn.” Mrs, Mulligan stood in the doorway, with her bands on ber hips, laughing loudly at the ready wit of ber young tenant, and winking to Billy to keep it up. But the house-agent apparently had enough of it. He turned suddenly away, biting his lips in spleen, and joined the others in their search. They meanwhile had been turning over the boy’s scanty furniture, examining tbe bedding, the slender closet with its slim stock of clothing, and a box in which Billy kept some of his moy- ables. Nothing was found. however. “It is here, somewhere,” declared the leader of the party. “I know he hasit. Sound the walls and the floor.” They did so. The wulls were everywhere whole. But the uncarpeted floor was not very solid, Several of the boards gave. One of them was so loose that they sought to wrench it from its place. There was no difficulty. The noilseasily gave way. The short piece of floor board came up, revealing a cavity beneath, between it and the ceiling of the room below, 4 But the cavity was empty. They probed it 5 | f { | }
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Sy be de 4 a ee! eh based fe \! , +, sae ti Sars role oe a into the yard. grassy corner where the box had really fallen, Lae FF they reached the joist on ing was there. Judy Mulligan still stood in the doorway, -eurious to see what would come of it all, Her -tenant’s expression told her that he had made all safe. Jesse Johnson turned suddenly to him, with an angry face. “You sly young villain, you have got it hid- den here somewhere!” he cried. ‘‘ Where is that box? What have you done with it?” “That what?” asked Billy, with affected sur- rise, **That box? Are you hard of hearing?” ‘* A little. This right ear o’ mine don’t allers come up to the scratch. Maybe if you’d spell it I could take it in better, Is it b-o-c-k-s, or b-w-x-x-p-s? Which on them two, mister?” Jesse glared at him, too angry to answer. “Tt is neither,” retorted his rough companion. *‘Ttisb-o-x. And we'd like to know what you’ve done with it, quick as lightning. Mind your eye now, ani don’t try any of your smartness on me, if you don’t want a box that will settle your hash.” “Who's you, hossfly? Ain’t Imperor o’ Rus- ia, be you?” ‘*T'll show you who I am, in short meter, if you don’t cut short your slack.” ‘Oh, I know younow. Ye’re the jolly cracks- man o’ tke Fourth Ward. Got a state-room down at Moyamensing, and a private box up at Cherry Hill. Queer I didn’t twig you sooner.” either side. The fellow turned away in some confusion, | Billy’s random shot had hit home, A new look came on the boy’s sharp face. He had got his man nailed. The angry house-agent caught the grinning | boy by the shoulder. ‘* Where’s that box?’ he demanded, ‘‘ By the Saints, if you don’t tell me [ll fling you out of the window!” ** B-o-x. this time? Solid?” a4 Yes.” “Then I dunno. Dunno nothin’ ’bout a box.” ** You lie, you hound!” ‘* Then what’s the uso blatherin’? Ain’t ’spect- in’ ter git the truth outer a liar, be ye? Look old ‘nough ter know better.” ; The furious villain bent the boy back out of 9 window, as if he intended to carry out his threat. Judy ran screaming across the room. “ Leave the gossoon alone!” she yelled. ‘“ Af . ye be afther doin’ him a harm I'll have the rope round your neck for a bloody murtherer! An’ that’s on the word of a Mulligan!” The villain, who had felt a momentary mur- derous thought, did not dare to carry it out. He released the boy, who did not look a bit scared, and cried out: : ‘Search the whole house! It is hidden here somewhere. And look afterthat boy. He must not escape.” s ‘“‘Needn’t bother yer brain-pan "bout that. Ain’t got no biz outside just now.” But despite this assurance the rough fellow kept an eye on the boy, while Jesse and the con- stable proceeded with the search. The house was not a very roomy one, nor were hiding-places numerous, and the experienced Searchers rapidly examined every room, tossin about the bed, furniture and clothing, in spite of the angry abuse of the landlady. : t was allin vain, They reached the kitchen ~ without discovering a shadow of anything suspi- cious. The leader of the party wore a look of deep disappointment. He had been sure of success, and felt himself baffled, There was an uneasy look on Billy’s face as they approached the door leading to the yard. _ He tried to throw it off, but the cunning house- agent saw it. * Aha!” he cried. I had almost forgotten. The rascal may have dropped it out of his window 1 We must search there.” Billy’s lip fell as the party hurried through the kitchen door. He followed them looking so blue that they felt they had him now for sure. The shrewd agent looked up to the window of the room they had lately left. Then his eyes followed down the line till they stopped at the ~ He turned and looked at Billy, who could not re his uneasiness. “Pye got you now, you young rat!” cried Jesse triumphantly, ‘It is in tha grass, a8 Pm a living man!” *“Reckon as how I mought as well guv up the ship,” acknowledged the boy, disconsolately, _ “You've eucthere] me this game, and ther ain’t | no use squealin’. Go fur it, and be fiddled!” _* Jesse needed ro orders on that point. He has- | they made,” laughed Billy. ‘Bet they don’t the grass, while the constable let fall a heavy hand on the boy’s shoulder. But the agent started back as suddenly as if he full of Sg fe “You blamed young hound!” he hissed, ‘Well, ain’t it there? Why don’t you take it, and stop yer blowin’?” ‘You dog! You know it is not there!” With a face full of surprise, hope and doubt. | Billy sprung forward to the spot where 'he had | seen the box fall and swept aside the long grass, To his utter astonishment his eyes met an emp- : ty space. The box was gone! He turned to his captors with a sober look, but with a return of his cunning, “Dunno as how I said it were there,” he re- marked. ‘Never said I had any box. Tha all your say-so, and it wasn’t perlite for a boy to contradict.” Despite his coolness Billy was much the most surprised of the party. e did not know what to make of this. Judy Mulligan had not been | down-stairs since the box was dropped, and nobody else was in the house. The house-agent looked at him sourly. “He is a thief anyhow,” he declared. has bidden his spoils. We will take him.” Billy proteste foreed him to go. The party was stared at, when the boy left | the house with his three captors, but none of the rough characters in the street ventured to interfere. | On reaching a more respectable neighbor- hood the constable left them, leaving his prisoner in charge of the two others, who declared they bad a warrant for his arrest from an uptown | alderman. ' There was an evil look on Jesse Johnson’s face, as he fixed his eyes on the captive, who walked along without an effort to escape. : | They were now in a thinly settled portion of | the city, and soon reached an open lot, which | they could save time by crossing. A muddy and slimy pool of water decorated “ He ' the middle of the lot. Beside this was a group of boys, who seemed engaged in some sort of play. They looked up in surprise on seeing Billy in such company, and left their play to yather round, | The boys were his ordinary scapegrace com- panions. There were more than a dozen of them, lads from fourteen to eighteen, some as stout as men. , The reason of the prisoner’s quiet submission now suddenly appeared. ; ** Hillo, roosters!” he shouted. ‘‘ These fellers is goin’ ter carry me ter thelock-up. Goin’ ter stand that, are ye?” ** No,” yelled the boys in chorus. ‘Then go fur ’em. Guv ’em a soakin’ in the duck-pond. Show ’em that the boys o’ Phila+ meclink ain’t goin’ to be sot on.” These words produced a sudden change in | the situation. The group of stout boys at once set on the two men, Billy leading and showing them the example. With seven or eight boys to each man they were ar ig overpowered, They shouted | lustily for help, but it was too late. In a minute they had been hustled to the edge of the pond, and tossed into its slimy depths, Some of the boys tumbled in with them, but the little rascals didn’t mind that. : Covered with slime and mud, and presenting a woeful picture, the victims struggled to their feet, and ran for life, followed by pelting mud and shouts of laughter from the vagrant throng. Billy Brick had won the game. CHAPTER IX. ON A STILL HUNT. THREE months have passed since the date of our last chapter. And in all that time Billy Brick has not set eyes on the lost casket. | What has become of it he is at a loss to tell, but that his enemies have not got it he is sure. | But it is necessary to briefly relate the events _ of these three months, and bring our story up to date. After the mud bath to which the cunning boy had treated his foes, he returned triumph- antly home to tell the story to Judy Mulligan. | "We need not say that that good lady enjoyed t bunch of | it ¢ uite as much as did her tenant. Faix, an’ it’s a broth of a boy ye are!” she | declared. ‘It did me sowl good to hear ye | talkin’ to thim bloody thaves, an’ Ia guy my best fryin’-pan to see thim rowlin’ in the mud.” had been bitten by a rat and turned with a face ts | against this, but the constable | “You never seed sich jolly mud babies es | r tened to the sup ‘ious corner and swept aside ' come howlin’ ’round here soon.” “But what’sall this about a box, me lad? An’ what’s in it, at all?” “You’ve got me there, Judy. I know no more what’s in it than old Abraham. Daddy Grim guv it to me an’ told me to freeze onto it. An’ he said as how there ’d be coons arter it.” | me the double-j’inted rheumatiz in_my big toe when that chap went rakin’ there. Dunno what | the blazes is come of it.” ‘*That’s quare,” remarked Judy, as she fell into a fit of deep reflection. Billy returned to the yard and made another search for the box, thinking it might have slip- ped into some crevice and so escaped discovery. But he soon found that he was mistaken. The ground was hard and dry. There was no hid- ing-place to be found. Frequent consultations took place during the 7 of that day between the lad and his land- ady. They finally came to the conclusion, after de- bating the question on every side, that there was only one solution of the mystery, The box had not gone without bands, that was sure. But whose hands? No vagrant who had entered the house by chance, would have thought of looking in that bunch of grass for a treasure. And the front door was locked. There was no entrance except over the fence to the rear. But who would think of climbing that fence in oa of valuables in Judy Mulligan’s back- yard? ‘The thaving omadhoun that saw it fall,” suggested Judy. ‘‘ There’s slippery folks in the houses ayant.” This was a good idea. In that region houses were crowded close together, and just back of the row that fronted on the street was another row, facing on a court. The upper windows of these houses overlooked the yards of the moré stylish mansions on the street. Any person sitting at one of these windows might have seen the boy let fall the box, and noted where it fell. He might also have seen the search going on, and judged that the box was valuable. That would be enough. It was not likely that any serious question of honesty would stand in the way. “Ther ain’t no two ways "bout it,” declared Billy, positively. ‘* Some funny chap from back nay has hopped the fence and jugged my OX. “Lucky he did,” suggested Judy, ‘‘or it would have fell intill worse hands.” “That’s so,” rejoined the boy, thoughtfully. ““Reckon it’s a blessin’ in disguise. But I’m goin’ to transmogrify myself into a committee of vestigation to-morrow, you bet.” It was now far after dark, and too late to do st bai that day. After his night's sleep Billy rose and made his way to the court, on his trip of investigation. e made his first stop at the house directly back of Mrs. Mulligan’s, from whose windows the yard could be best seen. But the people seemed to be yet in bed. The windows were not open, and his knocks upon the door brought no response. “*T don’t think you will fetch any one,” said a woman, from across the court. ‘They ain’t all dead, be they?” queried Billy. ** Right o’clock’s time fur all live Christians to be up and round.” ““There is nobody there,” answered the wo- mon, ‘The people that lived there, moved out ut eipht o’clock last night.” d Billy stared at her. He then put his hands to his sides, and gave a whistle as loud as a tin. trumpet. He had been neatly dished, “That comes 0’ puttin’ off till to-morrow what oughter be cid to-day,” he declared, ‘I’m jist the wu’st sold coon in these diggin’s,” ‘““ What is wrong?’ demanded the woman. ‘Somethin’ stole outer Mrs, Mulligan’s yard. And somebodyain that house stole it.” “fT shouldn't wonder. I wouldn’ttrust them.” ‘¢ Who lived there?” queried the hoy. “Only Mike Flanagan and his old woman, | and their hoy Mickey.” : “A big lump of a boy? Reckon I’ve see’d some sich chap around,” “Yes, Near grown up, What's lost?” ‘* A bit of a box, that’s all, Dunno what's in it, Say, don’t you know where they’ve gone?”
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10 “No. They slipped out very sly. Running away from the rent, I judge.” Billy was discounted. He made diligent in- quiry, but no one could tell him where the ‘lanagan family had gone. Yet he was as sure that the boy, Mickey Flanagan, had stolen his box as that he had not yet eaten his breakfast. What was to be done? The Flanagans must befound. But that was no easy task. They were not the kind of people whose names get into the Directory. After a month’s busy search the active boy was as much in the dark as ever. The boy was in trouble. That box he must have, by hook or crook. How was he to face Daddy Grim, and tell him that it had been lost? Yet he was almost at his wits’ ends. There was one solution of the mystery which, of course, had occurred to him. The thief might be an agent of the villains who were making such a strong effort to rob him of his treasure-casket. Yet if that were the case, why had he stolen the box when they were searching for it? Yet he might have seen this search, judged what was its object, and traced the parties for the purpose of selling them the box. And the amide flight of the Flanagan family with the stolen treasure may have been made to gain time for this investigation. Billy came to the conclusion at last that the thief had discovered the party of conspirators, had sold them the box, and that he was left com- pletely out in the cold. Yet the. despairing boy had no sooner come to this conclusion than something happened that changed his opinion, and set him all at sea again. Jesse Johnson returned during his absence, and made another search of Mrs, Mulligan’s house. That settled one point—they had not got the casket. The game was still open. They evidently fancied that by their long si- lence they would throw the boy off his guard, and get hold of the treasure before he had time to remove it again. ** And I reckon they would if Td had it,” ad- mitted Billy. ‘That bloody thief’s the best friend Pve got in the world. I’ve saved the box by losin’ it, which is a mighty queer conun- drum. I owe him ten dollars and a good lickin’ when I come across him. Guess ll guv him the last first. If he. gits half o’ what I owe him he kin wart fur tatiier half.” ‘* And what are you goin’ to do next?” asked Mrs. Mulligan, with a hearty laugh at Billy’s idea of economy. ‘Dunno, It’s all swimmin’ in my brain yit. But I ain’t goin’ to sit on my thumb an’ suck mint-drops. I’m goin’ to work like a hoss in a cider-mill.” Just what course to take was not very clear. There was but one thing he could do, and that was to watch his enemies. There was the house to which he had been de- coyed by a false errand. He set himself at guard duty on that. But after a week’s dili- gent watchfulness, he discovered that it was empty. There was next Jesse Johnson, the house- agent. He knew the locality of this man’s office, But on arriving there he found, to his chagrin, that there was a new name on the sign. The rascally agent had flitted, Thus several weeks passed in a constant suc- cession of disappointments. The boy began to get out of heart. Yet there was one thing he was sharp enough to notice. He was not the only one on the watch. In fact, he perceived that there were spies on his own track, and that wherever be went certain persons were sure to be on hand. This, instead of scaring the shrewd boy, gave him encouragement. As for being afraid of them, that did not enter into his thoughts, One of these seeming spies was an ill-dressed, a a figure, apparently but little older than imself. He was a rather stupid-looking youth, of an Irish cast of countenance, yet with some- thing very sharp in his eyes. This fellow, Billy saw everywhere. He was usually lounging bot as if he had nothing to do but to kill time, but he was the most per- sistent of the spies. At one time Billy made up nis mind to whip him. Then he concluded he wouldn’t. It might be best: to shut his eyes, and not let on that he had discovered anything. Tt is often best to know on what side to look for danger. But if he eould not find his foes himself, he might do so through their agent. e put one of the shrewdest of his boyish com- rades on the track of this spy, with instructions to find out where he belonged and whom he com- municated with. Three months, as we have said series of proceedings. period of time success seemed as. far off as ever. There was one thing puzzled him. wanderings about the city, and his business took’ him everywhere, he failed to set eye on the face of any of the party of his foes, In all his | Billy Brick, the Jolly Vagabond. passed in this / And at the end of that | you squattin’ yere for?” The pretty face of Miss Polly Severn also was | not to be seen. Had she really left the city, as he had been told? He did not believe it, but how was it that he never came across her? This question was answered one afternoon at the end of the three months by his suddenly meet- ing this lady face to face in an up-town street. There was a double confusion at this unexpect- ed encounter. Billy grew red in the face, and the young lady slightly pale, But the boy soon recovered his conrposure. He ‘What's in the wind?’ asked the latter. *“ Nothin’. *Cept you owe me a quarter.” “Guess I’m rich *nough ter pay you. What ‘*What’s you arter yerself?” “ Jist stepped round ter see a ‘quaintance as lives in that house yander.” ‘That ‘un? The one with the green shetters?” * That’s it. Know anything *bout. it?” ‘“ He’s there,” said Toby, mysteriously. “*Who’s there? Not that hikin’ slouch?” *Reckon so. Went in there temminutes ago. Billy looked meaningly at the house. Eyvi- dently there was something at work. What was it? Was there any way to find out? He stood for several minutes without speaking, his eyes fixed heedfully on the house, ‘‘Come this way, Toby,” he said at length, B’en tryin’ to scratch out what he’s arter,” | with quick resolution. made an effort at a very polite bow and re- | marked: j “* Glad ter meet you, Miss Severn. Been kind- | er keepin’ asquint round fer ye. Hope ye’re’joy- | in’ life.” “You impudent street rat!” she angrily re- plied. ‘* How dare you address me inthe street? Take your dirty face away before I call a police- man.” “Don’t feel like kissin’ me jist now, I s’pose? Ain’t wantin’ no more boxes, be ye?” ‘* Do you hear me, you little villain? Tl sla your mouth if you give me any more imperti- | nence!” ‘*Guess then I'd best git. had sich a temper. has found it out, Say, Miss Polly, how did you like the drawin’ I put in that box? The Ittle dorg had the best ot the row ’cordin’ to my no- tion.” The irate woman was about to make some spiteful answer. of it. It was hardly the thing to be measuring street slack with a ragged and impudent varlet like Billy. She turned short and Jeft the spot. Billy stuck his tongue in his cheek as he fol- lowed her with his eyes, ‘** Lawsee, don’t she sail plum? And to think how sweet she was on me onc’t! Kinder in love with her, and can’t consent to lose sight o’ her pretty figure jist yet. of sich neg i> yee He put himself on her track at a fair distance in the rear. Twenty minutes afterward Miss Polly Severn entered a house in one of the uwp-cown streets without a suspicion that she had been followed. That was not the case with Billy Brick. He knew well that he had been followed. The youthful spy was now leaning on a fire plug not far down the street, with one eye on Billy, and the other on Miss Severn’s residence. CHAPTER X. HOW TOBY EARNED HIS DINNER. IT was a morning several days after the date of our last chapter. Through a street in the upper region of the city went the Irish lad whom Billy had discovered acting as spy upon him, He now evidently had other business on hand, for he walked straight onward, like a person who sees his way clear before him. He was too direct and decided, in fact. If he had been less so, and practiced his usual sharp- ness, he might have seen that he was followed. There was a spy on the track of the spy. The young vagabond whom Billy had chosen for this work was doing his duty nobly, Blind to the fact that he was followed the Irish lad entered the street to which Miss Polly Severn had been tracked a few days before. proached the house which this young lady had entered, and rung the bell loudly, After a*few minutes he was admitted. All this the young scout observed, and stood scratching his head in doubt. “Dunno what he wants in there,” he said. ‘“-Tuin’t the sort o place fur a daisy like him.” He seated himself on a convenient door-step, scratched his head more diligently than ever, and went into a deep study of the situation. Didn’t know you After five minutes thus engaged he gave it up | for a bad job. ‘* Don’t see through it,” he admitted, ‘‘Gota notion thar’s some gum game afloat. A ’spec- table house like that ain’t the place fur a gutter- hike like him.” ““What’s all that "bout, Toby?’ queried a voice at his side. ‘‘ Breakers ahead, is there?” Toby looked quickly around, to discover his a oa Billy Brick, who had come up unob- served, Wonder if Mr. Bill Smithers | But she seemed to thmk better | No siree! Couldn’t think The boy followed without a word. that Billy meant work. A few minutes brought them toa narrowalley that ran inthe rear of the row of houses. U this they went till they reached the fence bac of Miss Severn’s house. The fence was eight feet high, with a gate that fortunately was not fastened. The boys entered without. hesitation. Nobody was visible in the yard. The kitchen door was shut. A range of windows ran along the side of the house, lighting the kitchen and He knew | dining-room. Signing to Toby to keep back, Billy made his way along the range of these, stooping down and slyly peeping in. One of the windows of the dining-room was raised, and through this he observed the kitchen girl, engaged in dusting the room. Her face was turned half toward him, and he had a good view of ber features. She was plainly an Irishwoman, with a good- humored face, a motherly and benevolent middle-aged person. The boy stooped down again to think over ways and means. It did not take him long to make up his mind. He slipped back to Toby. “‘ Ever beg vittals at back doors, Toby?” he asked. “*Guess I did.” ‘Good! Then I want you to try it on here.” ** But I aint hungry.” *“Reckon you kin eat if you ain’t bungry. Never see’d the time a chap like you couldnt eat. Ye’re pretty nearall bread basket. Ther’s | a good-hearted woman in there, and if you only whine fike a stuck pig she'll guv you ‘nough ter last a week.” : “ But what’s it all for?” “ Jist ter git her out the way. You keep her gabbing while I go through the house. Got that in?” ‘* Guess so.” ** Go to work, then.” Toby, who knew the business thoroughly, at once obeyed. He knocked on the kitchen door, with a feeble and despairing knock. He had to repeat it several times before the woman answered, When at length she opened the door she saw there a crouching bundle of rags, witha pinched- up and woe-begone face, and a look of semi- starvation. “Please, ma’am,” whined the boy. “ I’m *most a‘starvin’. I ain’t eat nothin’ fur three devs.” ‘““ Why don’t you go home for food? What sort of a father and mother have you” Here was an opening for Toby which he did not fail toimprove. He whined out a story of five minutes in length about the misfortunes of | his parents, and how they had died and left him He ap- | an orphan, and how he had been for yearsin a state of freezing and starvation. The young rascal had lies enough at his tongue’s end to make a book. The woman, though she did not half believe him, was tender hearted. He looked to be such a poor shivering waif that she brought him in, seated him in front of the kitchen range, and laid him out a fair meal of cold victuals. While Toby was eating as ravenously as if he were really in the last stages, she seated herself in a chair before him and kept plying him with questions, But the boy was not to be confused. He had a ready imagination, and told such a long and moving tale that the minutes slipped by un- eeded, Twenty minutes had passed when she at length rose, “Well, you'd talk all day if I'd talk to you, Got enous. ; “Yes, thank you, kindly, ma’am.”
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me ¥t : illy Brick, the Jolly Vagabond. ** Poor little toad! Come here again if you get very hungry. You must go now. I am wasting time from my work.” “T won't never furgit yer kindness, ma’am. Ye've jist bout half saved my life.” The rogue had nearly choked himself swallow- ing the food. “T spect to git work next week, and then [ll be all hokey.” With endless blessings on the good and char- itable woman he limped out of the yard. She shut the kitchen door and returned into the house. Hardly had she done so before Billy’s lithe form shot back, stooping under the level of the window, In a moment he had rejoined Toby in the al- ; ; Ain’t goin’ to ley. His face was full of business and blazing | with triumph. “ Jolly fur you, Toby!” he cried. ‘' You're a hoss from the word go. Been a-listenin’ to you saltin’ down that old woman. And you bet I ain’t no lame mule.” ‘Most choked,” admitted Toby, ‘She made me swaller so much. Guess I made her swaller a good deal, too. Hit any snacks, Billy?” “ Well, I should smile! Owe you a half, To- by. Let’s git outer this, an’ I'll tell youall’bout it.” A half-hour afterward found them in a piace where they could talk without interruption. Bil- ly looked his comrade meaningly in the face. “You ain't no gab-tub, Toby? Reckon I kin vy you some secrets ’thout you’re leakin’?” “Tf I let out a word you kin choke me with a watermelon,” answered Toby, who was eager to learn what was afoot, ‘‘T may need your help.” ‘¢ Guess I won’t go back on that.” Billy moved into a more comfortable position and began. “* Well, then, I went through that there house, While you was freezin’ on to cold vittals and gabbing like a duck im a frog-pond, I clumb in- to the winder and sneaked into the house as sly as a weasel. ‘“*T knowed there was a talk goin’ on some where, and that was what I wes arter. I cotch- ed it arter awhile. It was comin’ outer a room on the second story. “One o’ the voices I knowed. It was Miss Severn, as lives there and as I know lke a breeze. T’other was that jolly lark as you've been arter.” ‘“‘Find out who he is?’ asked Toby. “Well, I rayther consider! And what he was arter, too. They was through ther perlimin- aries afore I got there, but I picked up the pith ©’ the whole bizess. L’arnt more "bout that coon in five minutes than you’ve l’arnt in five weeks.” ; “*- You don’t say so? Who was he?” “Tf he ain’t that thief of a Mickey Flanagan, Pll be shot!” ‘Mickey Flanagan? Dunno who he is.” bd S’ pose not. Got ter tell you all *bout it.” Billy proceeded to give his associate some idea of the events which had preceded, and of the ob- ject he had in view. ‘1 thought that chap was a spy put on me,” he continued. ‘I soon found out better. He was spyin’ on his own hook. ““When I dropped the box outer the winder he saw it and went for it. “T'wasn’t for that they moved away that night. His daddy was runnin’ away from the rent, But that worked in for Mickey’s game. ‘* He judged from what he see’d that ther’ was money to be got for the box, but he didn’t know where to strike it. So he sot to spyin’ on me, *caze he calkerlated I'd be spyin’ on t’other folks. ‘‘He see’d me talkin’ to Miss Severn t?otber day, and see’d her go inter that house. guv him an ideer as she was one o’ them. So he called on her to-day, and found as she was.” “ You heered all that?’ demanded Toby. “ And a good deal more. Ther’sa reg’lar bar- | gain. She’s to guv. him a hundred dollars for the box. He’s to bring it at ten o'clock Friday night, to a place called Sterling Mansion, some- where *bove the city. “ Didn't catch where it were, for they kinder Na talkin’ low ‘bout that time. But they’ve got the whole thing laid out prime. you bet Pve got it down fine. Got ter find out fu’st where Sterling Mansion is. Heard "bout ther Sterling Estate afore.” ; ‘“What’ll you guv to know?” “1'll make that half a whole dollar.” “ Then I’m jist the coon as kin tell yer, kaze T’ve been there. It’s one o’ them ~ places "bout two miles "bove the city. unted That | | eyes fell on the noble proportions of the build- | | ) ; | ' : t | ] “Jolly for you!” cried Billy in delight. “That's gay as fried oysters. I’m a-goin’ for that there coon, Mickey Flanagan. An’ I want | you an’ the boys to help.” “Tf there’s a lark in the wind, you bet we won’t go back on it.” “Tt mought be wuss nur a lark. Jist let’s constiltate a bit. Got to lay this thing out fine. let no fricasseed thief like Mickey Flanagan beat me, not if I knows my- self.” A long conversation ensued between the brace | of young comrades, at the end of which a com- plete plan was laid. ‘* We'll be out there early to-morrow morn- | in’,” declared Billy in conclusion. ‘‘Got to spy out the ground "fore we kin lay our ambush.” | CHAPTER XI. | ] } } MICKEY FLANAGAN IN HOT WATER. Ten o'clock Friday night was near at hand. | It was a dark night, that threatened rain, though none had yet fallen. The scene to which we must betake ourselves was on one of those beautiful rural streets or | lanes above the city, which are lined on both sides by country seats, most of them large and | elegant. Sterling Mansion was an imposing brown- stone mansion, with a broad, stately front, and. | large wings. presented a striking aspect. It was surrounded by an extensive spread of rolling ground, highly cultivated and very charming by day, though its beauty was lost in the gloom of night. Many noble trees, and thick clumps of shrub- bery, adorned the grounds. The carriage-drive and the footpaths es from the street to the house were bordered with flower-bushes. At near ten o’clock, on the night in question, a boyish form might have been seen, making his way along the street, and gazing eagerly through the gloom for the mansion. He wore a long-tailed coat, beneath which something was concealed. A look of satisfaction came into his faceas his | Looked at in the gloom of night it | ing, standing on a knoll of land some distance back. | | i pa hesitation he opened the gate and en- tered. him. himself. | esty, or if they mean roguery before I band over | | seemed cold human flesh. that box. Ji hide it somewhere here. If all’s square I can come back and get it.” He studied the bushes before bim in search of a good hiding-place, The leaves stirred as if moved by the wind, though there did not seem a breath of air stirring. But not heeding this Mickey stopped, took the object from under his coat, and thrust his left hand into the bushes, feeling for a proper place of concealment. : He suddenly jerked his hand back, as if he had touched a snake, while, a cry of surprise came from his lips. His hand had fallen on what Mickey stood for a moment with wide-open eyes, as if there was something supernatural, to his fancy, in the situation. At that fmoment a cry came from the bushes, | “Go fur him, fellers!’ In an i-stant a half dozen forms rose as if by magic, and ere Mickey fairly knew what had | happened they had surrounded and seized him. | One of them grasped the box, to which he | clung with all his strength, while he yelled lustily for aid. A sharp tussle succeeded, part of the boys | hampering his arms and legs, while the one Who | had seized the box tried to tear it from his hands. Mickey held on desperately, and continued to | yell fer help, | His eries were heard. The front door of the mansion was thrown open. The rays of a bright | light shot out across the lawn. The forms of several men were seen, running hastily out. The lamplight clearly showed the struggle that was taking place. Hope sprung into Mickey’s heart as he saw a party coming to the | rescue. ‘ “Help!” he cried, ‘ I’ve got it here! They'll | old | have it if you ain’t quick!” The men dashed across the porch and out over chestnuts out there onc’t, and got druv off by a | the lawn. dog.” At that moment the boy who was struggling He followed the footwalk until he came | near the house. } Then he paused, near one of the thickest | clumps of bushes, and looked sharply around | “Tf they take Mickey Flanagan for a fool, | they’re barking up the wrong tree,” he said to | ‘““I'm going to see if they mean hon- | for the box tore it from the grasp of the holder. The other boys bore him backward, and flung him prostrate to the ground. “‘Tve got it!” came in the voice of Billy Brick. ‘“‘ Hike, fellers! Git like weasels! They’re arter us sharp!” He gave the example by dashing down the path. The pursuing men were not twelve feet dis- tant, yelling for the boys to stop. At that critical instant Billy’s foot struck the handle of a rake that lay across the path, and down he went sprawling. The box flew from his hands and shot ten feet forward into the darkness. He hastened to rise, but ere he could scramble to his feet a strong hand had him firmly by the collar. “Snatch it, Toby!” he yelled. ‘*There it goes! Never mind me! Snatch it, and hike away lively!” One of the boys in advance was seen to stoop and pick up something from the ys Then he shot forward, pursued by two of the men. The next instant he jumped into the bushes and disappeared from sight in the dark- ness. Although Billy Brick was a fast prisoner, held so tightly that he found it impossible to escape, his tongue was at liberty, and he did not hesi- tate to use it. “Go it, Toby!” he shouted. “Rattle away lively! Never mind me! If I don’t come back you sing the news to the cops!” “Hold your jaw, you young villain!” cried the eaptor, giving the noisy boy a rough stroke across the mouth, “Tl break your jaw-bone if you don’t shut up!” “Tet meat him!” exclaimed Mickey, who had scrambled to his feet. ‘‘It was him stole it from me! Let me at him!” ‘You! You thunderin’ idiot! roared the man. ‘You want a sound kickin’ yourself. You’ve let the cat cut of the bag, and they've laid an ambush for you!” “Let him at me,if he wants te,” suggested Billy. ‘‘ Jist guv him a chance to lick me. It’s a shame to hinder a good-looking fellow like Mickey when ke wants some fun.” “Hold your tongue, you scoundrel! or Ill give you the lickin’ you're after. By Jove) if that boy gets away, 11) kick you into the mid- dle of next week!” “Thaot’s a lie!’ answered the irrepressible boy. ‘The thing can’t be did. 1 bet you a pig to a ‘tater-parin’ you ean’t kick me inter the middle o’ next Sunday, and that ain’t two days off.” ‘‘ Shut up, I tell you! Come here!” He dragged his prisoner back to the house, followed by Mickey, who looked sadly out of sorts. Mean while the chase continued. There was rending of bushes, as pursuers and pursued dashed through them. Angry cries broke upon the night air. The sounds spread further and further from the house. But the darkness cf the night and the bushy character of the ground favored the boys, who could dash like weasels through cavities too small for their pursuers, Only one of them was caught, and he was not the one with the box. And even this prisoner escaped, by suddenly slipping out of his ragged coat and leaving it in the hands of his incautious captor. They returned empty-handed. One prisoner remained in their hends, and he the most important of the party. But the hex, the main object of their enterprise, was gone, and success seemed as far off as ever All they knew was that it was in the hands of a boy called Toby. So much Billy kad care- lessly let out. But that was not much satisfac- tion to the cheated conspirators., Fifteen minutes afterward found a strenge party in the brilliantly-lighted room cf that stately mansion. The three conspirators were them their lady associate, ” resent, and with "olly Severn, by | whom this enterprise had been planned. Tn their midst sat the two boys, Mickey Flana- gan, looking dreadfully downcast and melan- choly, and Billy Brick, who was as spruce asa lark, and really seemed as if he enjoyed the situation. Any one would have said from their looks that Mickey was the prisoner, and Billy the friend of the conspirators. As for them their faces were full of lowering anger. Miss Severn was furious. But luckily for Billy her anger was directed against the other boy. 2 The confounded ninny !” she exclaimed, spite-
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"0 1 4 i i a A ee eo a a — — —_——- fully. ‘‘ He looks old enough to hold his tongue, yet he must go and blather out the whole busi- ness, and sell the game to these rascally boys.” ** [ didn’t do anything of the sort,” exclaimed Mickey. ‘‘I never opened my jaws. If any- body told it must have been you.” **T tell! Iwill scratch your eyes out if yeu say that again!” cried the woman, in a fury of fice. it was evident that Polly Severn had a lively temper of her own when she got wakened Up. ‘** Who was it told you?” demanded Smithers, ning to the prisoner, who was having a quiet gh to himself over the fight. “Both on ’em, I reckon,” he quietly replied. **'You lie!” declared Mickey, hotly. ‘* You lie if you say I told you.” ** And you double the lie if you say it was me,” cried the angry woman. “That makes it a double-barreled lie,” re- joined the unabashed boy. ‘‘Reckon I must ha’ dreamt it, then, if nobody told me. That’s it, Ls‘pose. I dreamt that sly coon was goin’ to be here to-night at ten o’clock, with the box that he stole from me, blast his ugly figurehead.” ** You lie!” declared Smithers. dream anything of the sort.” ‘*Got to be a three-barreled lie now,” re- marked Billy, in his most provoking tone, ** Keep it up, and we'll have a reg’lar six barrel revolver of a lie ’fore long. Thenif it goes off somebody’ll git hurt.” ‘This is all arrant nonsense,” exclaimed Tompkins, looking up angrily. ‘“‘You don’t expect to get anything but gas and impudence out of that boy, do you? Lock up the young villain, and we'll decide what to do with him. bet we'll make him laugh on the other side of | the mouth before we’re through.” ‘*Don’t b’lieve I kin do it, mister,” rejoined Billy. “Vil try it, if itll ’blige you. But every time I try to laugh it jist spreads all over my face.” Eire he could say anything more he was drag- ged from the room, two of the men jerking him aagrily away. ‘**As for you,” said Smithers, addressing Mickey, who remained, ‘* you’ve let the cat out of the bag somehow, I know that. You've got to redeem yourself by getting that box back. Tbe boy named Toby has it.” ** And I’ve got a notion I know who he is,” re- plied Mickey. ‘‘ Tl go for him.” Five minutes afterward the two men returned alone. They had left their prisoner somewhere unter lock and key. CHAYPTER XII. THE MYSTERIES OF AN OLD MANSION, A WEEK after the date of the adventure just recorded, a party of police in citizen’s dress vis- ited Sterling Mansion. They were met at the door by a servant, who escorted them to the parlor, and went to call the lady of the house. In a few minutes afterward she entered. It was a young, pretty-faced, handsomely-dressed woman that made her appearsnce, no less a per- son in fact than Miss Polly Severn, It was with some slight show of embarrass- ment that the leader of the party toll their er- rand. Everything here seemed so quiet and homelike that he began to think that he had been made a fool of. His story was to the effect that there was a boy missing who had been Jast seen in that man- sion. His comrades had notified the police that he had been dragged in there as a prisoner, and that a week bad passed since without /iis return. Miss Severn listened with a faint smile on her pretty face. Here and there in the story she gave a slight laugh, as if the thing were utterly ridiculous. You are quite welcome to your boy, if you | can find him,” she said, merrily, after the story: had ended, ‘** You deny that there is any such person here, then?” ** Why, you are at liberty tosearch. I shall certainly be surprised if you find anybody.” **But the boy is undoubtedly missing. We did not come here without being sure of that.” ‘“* He has stolen something, I suppose, and run away. So this is the revenge the young rascals threatened?” “Threatened? Then you know something bearing upon this?” ‘** Why, all I know is that there was a party of ragamuffins here last week stealing chestnuts. They fancied they owned the estate, and when they were driven off they threatened to get even. I immagine that this is their idea of getting ] | our duty. ‘** Proceed, gentlemen. disposal.” They went to work at once. The party divid- ed into several sections and began a search of the mansion, extending from the cellars to the upper rooms, he mansion was singular in one respect. There had been an original stone house in that locality since before the Revolution. This had been modernized by taking down its front wall and replacing it in brown stone, while building new additions as wings to the old house, Thus the central part of the mansion was old- fashioned, with oak wainscoting, deep fireplaces and antique furniture. The wings were entirely modern. And by the aid of curtains and drapery and bits of modern furnishing much of the old look had been taken from the ancient apartments. The house was elegantly adorned, and the po- lice were much impressed with its magnificence as they proceeded with their task. In fact, their search was not a very thorough one. They were satisfied that they had been made fools of, and they went through the build- ing very hastily. Yet no secret hiding-places appeared. It leoked as if a fly could not be concealed. Miss Severn attended the leader of the party, expressing herself as curious to learn the result of their enterprise. When they reached the dining-room, with its oak paneling, and its great fire-place, up which in past times had gone a roaring fire of logs, but which was now closed in bya shining brass fender, she seated herself in an arm-chair in the chimney corner, with a smile of amusement on her face. **T hope you will take your boy away with you when you find him,” she said. ‘I would not like any such strays as that left about the lace.” ‘“We will,” answered the officer briefly. “When we find him.” He seated himself and entered into a con- versation with Miss Severn, leaving his compan- ions to complete the search, The subject of their conversation was the peyeet terms on which the Sterling estate had een left. This information Miss Severn was quite ready to communicate. It seemed, by her story, that it had belonged some seventeen or eighteen years before, to a Mr. Marcus Sterling, whose wife had died a a year previously. This yentleman had become very much de- pressed from the loss of his wife. But his grief was tenfold augmented by the loss of his only son, who was stolen from him about this time. The object of the abduction could not be told. Rewards were offered for the return of the lost child, but they failed to bring him back. The father had gradually sunk into a settled gloom, and died of melancholy about two years after the loss of bis son, On reading his will it proved that he had left the estate under the guardianship of the Orphan’s Court, for the benefit of his heir, Every effort was to be made for the recovery of the stolen child. But if the twenty-first birthday of the boy passed without his being found, then the es- tate would fall to the nearest relatives of the de- ceased, But it was to be returned to the son if he should be discovered at any time afterward. Such was the story as told by Miss Severn. She had been chosen housekeeper by the court, on the death of the old house-keeper, which had happened a month before, The nearest bLeir to the estate, in case the son should not be found, was Mr William Smithers, a first cousin of Mr. Sterling. But two other relatives had recently made their appearance, from California, so that there were now three claimants for the estate. By the time she had finished this account the officers had completed their search. The house is at your r DSA ip Reis 1 TT La POP ly. Vagabond. “There is nothing to be found,” was the report. ‘‘ It is impossible that any such missing boy can be hidden here.” ‘Then we must go over the grounds, Is there any other building, Miss Severn?” “Yes, You will find a tenant-house at the foot of the hill. And a stable attached, with wagon-house and sheds.” ‘Very well. We must complete our task.” ‘** | hope yeu will find something,” she answer- ed, with a gay smile. ‘lt isa shame to bring you so far for nothing.” ‘** Tt is something to have made your acquaint- ance,” replied the polite cfficer. In a half-hour afterward they bed left the place, satisfied that they had been sent cn a false errand, but equally satisfied that Sterhug Man- sion was a palatial residence, and that Miss Severn was a sweet and charming lady. They had only seen one side of Polly Severn. She had another side which was not quite so Sweet. In fact the officers had not fairly cisappeared before her entrancing smile c!:nged to a look of scornful disdain and triumph. “T fancy I have most cecidedly pulled wool over the eyes of those smart gentlemen,” she re- marked, ‘‘We were in danger, there is no doubt of that. But all is now clear before us.” She watched them as they went with military tread down the road toward the station. She waited, in fact, until the sound of a locomotive whistle showed that the train had come and gone, Then she returned with a serene look to the house, Reaching it she entered the kitchen, cbtained there a platter of food and made her way back to the dining-room, Here she closed and locked the doors. There were servants in the house. But these spent their nights in the tenant-heuse, which lay some distance in the rear. They knew nothing of the secrets of the mansion, and it was not intended that they should know. William Smithers was the only other resi- dent of the house, while the rough fellow who had aided in searching Judy Mulligan’s resi- dence acted as gardener and performed other duties. Miss Severn’s movements after locking the doors. were curious, She began by 1emoving the tall arm-chair, on which she had been seated while talking with the officer. It had occupied the recess between the pro- truding fireplace and the wall. On removing it there was displayed the cak paneling, which covered the wall to a hight of five feet. Into a crevice of this, on the chimney side, she inserted an instrument. There came a crackling sound, and a portion of the paneling, of some eight inches square, came loose, and slipped out into her hands. There was reveaicd a dark cavity. Instead of the wall showing under the boards, an opening leading into the deep fireplace appeared. She put her face to the opening. ; aoe do you feel to-day?” she asked, mock- ingly. © Kinder dusty,” came back in a voice that seemed to roll from the depths of a cavern. “Are you ready for your dinner?” ‘* Recken as how I mought er a {1og’s trot- ters, or some sich delicate grub.” It was the voice of Billy Brick. His cruel captors had imprisoned him in that extraor- dinary place, an old fireplace, about six feet square, with no more air end light than might straggle down the chimney-top, Yet it was evident that bis spirits were not broken. He was the same irrepressible Billy Brick as of old. Without another word the woman passed in the platter of food to the hand and arm thet were extended to receive it, and closed the ¢rv- ity, shutting the prisoner in again to his dese): solitude. In this narrow hole the captive had spent a week that seemed a year in jeneel As we may well imagine, he bad not remained there without efforts to escape. But his prison was a strong one. The bright brass plate that closed the entrance to the old fireplace had a strong brick wall hebind it, with which the vil- lains had built in their prisoner. The only opening to bis oe was that which had been fashioned on the side to admit food, and for other purposes of communication. He had tried climbing the chimney, but he soon found himself stopped by a narrow flue through which he could not forch his bedy. He was effectually caged, The week of his imprisonment which we have
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= Billy Brick, the Jolly Vagabond. — described was but the beginning of a long | Smithers, ** He may return at any minute, and misery. finally to two montks. : Anybody of less vitality and strong spirits than Billy Brick would | ave succumbed to the | never-consent to any murderous work. | | dy It stretched onward to a month, and | who knows what trouble he may make, if he finds that boy at large.” ‘* Pll tell you this,” cried Tompkins. ‘I shall We terrible loneliness and narrowness of this im- | know by the way Grim held to that box that all provised dungeon. Yet at the end of the two months there was nothing in his voice to show that he had lost any | of his old reckless humor. He was as saucy and indomitable as ever to | Grim being friendly to him. any of his captors. Billy was not without something to keep up his spirits. Hope was not quite gone. A month | ago it had suddenly occurred to him that the brick floor under his feet had something of a hollow sound, It was possible that there might be an opening below into the cellar. Full of this idea he had diligently gone to work with an old pocket-knife which had not been taken from him, With great labor he began to remove brick | after brick. It was excessively slow work. He was three days in getting out the first brick. After t.at the others came easier, But under these appeared others, and still others. There was a thick Jayer of brickwork. Yet it sounded more hollow as he descended. Evidently there was an opening below. The floor of the fire-place, in fact, had been built on a brick arch rising from the cellar floor. Through that arch the prisoner was slow- ly cutting his way. It was a painful and wearisome process, but the day came when the knife went through. A brick fell down, leaving an opening through which he could thrust his hand. It was now but a question of days. If he could make the hole large enough to leé his body through, before his work was discovered he was saveds CHAPTER XIII. FOOTSTEPS IN THE DARKNESS. SoMETHING more than two months had passed from the date of the imprisonment of Billy Brick, Nothing of him had yet beenseen. His young companions had again tried to arouse the police, but had been toid they would be kicked into the street if they came with any more of their lies. Meanwhile Mickey Flanagan had got on the track of Toby, and wasina fair way to regain possession of the mysterious box. On an evening 1n middle January the party of confederates were gathered in a room in Sterling Mansion. It wasa cold night out, but all was cosy here, und they seemed comfortable and in the best of spirits. They had reason to be. Two things had oc- Pincers to put them in good humor. One was that the end of their long probation wasat hand. On the next day the son of Mar- cus Sterling would be twenty-one years old, if living. If he failed to appear the property would become theirs, as heirs under the will. The other was that they had received word from Mickey Flanagan that he had recovered the mysterious box, and would be there to de- liver it and receive his reward that night. It was for this pu they had assembled. They did not know just what the casket con- tained. But they knew that old Grim was thoroughly conversant with the whole strange business, and felt sure that it held papers bearing upon the whereabouts of the lost son. | They were not safe while that casket was In existence. It might at any moment reveal proofs which would snatch from them the covet- ed estate and bring the true heir to his own. “Tf it proves to be the boy in the chimney- corner, there is but one thing todo,” said Smith- ers, with a dark look. “Why not do it now?” answered Johnson, his crafty face wearing an.ugly expression. ‘‘ He has disappeared from the world, There is no need of his coming back.” “No, no,” cried Tompkins, “I won't stand that. No useless work of that kind if you please. If there is enough in it, well and good. But I am not hardened enough to kill for a frolic,” “* Useless, is it? Let that boy get out, with what he knows, and he will make it boiling hot for all of us.” They little dreamed that at that moment their prisoner was getting out, slipping down through the hole he had made into the cellar beneath, ‘¢ Nonsense! @ can snap our fingers at him as we have done at the other boys,” remark Tompkins. ‘“‘ What will the word of a street Inafer weigh against that of the heirs of the Sterling Estate?” “But Grim has given us vhe slip,” remarked | AS Et Ri Aa Re a PBS Ti 9 aS oe Pee Bs a a eS As A a SE ee CN eR EE @ his proofs lie in it, If we destroy its contents we have the game in our own hands, ‘¢ What is more, we do not know that this is the boy. It is only a surmise, on account of old don’t believe that Marcus Sterling’s son could ever have descended to the level of a street vag- | | | | around with glistening eyes. For my part, I | abond. He would have too good blood for that.” | ‘*Good blood be fiddled!” answered Smithers, disdainfully. brought up in the streets, that he is no better ** You think, then, that because a | | boy has to make his own living, and has been than a dog? I tell you that there are street boys | that havein them the making of the best men in theland. A ragged coatisanemblem of poverty, not of disgrace.” ‘* Bravo!” cried Johnson. ‘I did not think you were coming out as the advocate of street boys.” ‘** Anyhow, they have as much wit and good principle as any other class of boys. Education is a good thing, but you want something else to make the man.” After some more conversation Tompkins left the room. He was getting anxious about the non-arrival of Mickey. nificant looks. ‘*He is growing chicken-hearted,” remarked Smithers. ‘*We can do the work ourselves,” rejoined Johnson. ‘A pinch of white powder in the boy’s meat, and all will be over.” “ After it is done, Tompkins dare not kick,” returned the other, with a knowing wink. their dark plans. silent. There were other footsteps in that house they could not bear, In the cellar a youthful form was feeling its way in the darkness, seeking the stairs that led upward into the house. Tae door of the room in which the conference followed by Polly Severn. Close behind them came another form, that of Mickey Flanagan, He bore in under his arm a square object wrapped in paper. The two men sprung eagerly to their feet. “ Allis right, then? The boy is here? He has got it?” “‘T rather think so,” answered Mickey, in a drawling tone. ‘‘ Hand me over a bundred dol- lars, according to promise, and the box is yours.” “That won’t do,” exclaimed Johnson. ‘| We have been tricked once already with a false box. We must be sure that ‘t is the true one.” “Tt is the box that Billy Brick dropped out of the window; I can swear to that,” replied Mick- “See here, young fellow, you are smart for our age, but we are not quite fools,” rejoined ‘ompkins, ‘The money promised you will get, if the box you bring is the one we are in search of. If not, we owe you nothing.” “Tt is the box you were trying to get from Billy Brick, that I know,” remarked the boy, in a very positive tone. ‘‘And I don’t calculate you'll go back on me. I happen to know a few things that it wouldn't pay to have blown, Here is the article,” Evidently Mickey Flanagan was no fool. He knewa thing or two. Yet he did not quite know the ee ged of the men he was dealing with, or he would not have shown his hand so plainly. They exchanged meaning glances while he was taking the bundle from under his arm and slow- ly removing the paper in which it had been wrapped. The object he laid on the table before them dazzled their eyes. It was acasket made of polished steel, with ornamental lines of gold inlaid in its cover. It was about six by eight inches in size, and seem- ed to have been lately rubbed up, so that it flashed brightly in the lamplight. The men fixed their eyes on it esgerly. They felt sure now they had hit the mark. Miss Severn pushed up to the table, full of hope and excitement. ‘““This must he it!” she cried. “It is too elegant to be got up for a cheat, like the other one,” ““We shall soon see,” answered Smithers, briefly, repressing the eagerness which filled his nerves, The two men left together and exchanged sig- | had taken place opened and Tompkins entered, | For ten minutes more they continued to lay | kk p At the end of that time the | sound of footsteps admonished them to be | ; He drew from a drawer in the table a large bunch of keys, which had been provided for this emergency. These he proceeded to try, one by one, in the ornamented key-hole of the casket. After some time he inserted a key which moved easily in the lock. All drew their breaths hard, and crowded They seemed on the verge of success. And meanwhile the silent foctsteps which had moved through the cellar were now in the hall leading to the room in which this was taking place. There were ears of which they did not dream within sound of their voices. There were feet of which they had no conception moving stealthily toward that room. And out in the nightly gloom of the street were shadowy forms moving in that direction, and suppressed voices. Events were preparing of which they did not dream. Surprise and peril were gathering about that group of hatnous conspiratcrs, even in the seeming moment of their triumpb. But utterly ignorant of this, their whole at- tention was fixed upon the mysterious casket waiting for the click of the lock which shculd signify that its mystery was revealed. The click came. The lock was vanquished. With a nervous motion Smithers caught the shining cover and flung it open. What they expected to see they did not know themselves. Polly Severn looked as if she had hoped for the glare of a box filled with dia- | monds. She drew back with a gesture of disgust and disappointment. ‘Only papers!” she exclaimed. “What did you look for?’ demanded Smith- ers. ‘“T don’t know. But something of more ec- count than a bundle of moldy old documents.” “Then you will have your wish,” rejoined Smithers, as he grasped the papers and threw them out on the table. Beneath them, in the bottom of the box. lay a flashing array of jewels, in which the clear light ot the diamond vied with the softer blue and crimson of other precious stones. The excited woman eagerly grasped and drew out these shining emblems of wealth, There were two or three complete sets of jewels, one set with diamonds, the others with rubies, sapphires, and other valuable genis. Her eyes fairly gleamed and danced as she fixed them on there brilliant ol jects. ‘* That settles it,” cried Tompkins. * These sre the family jewels of the Sterling Estate. We have hit the mark at last.” ‘Then we owe this young man a hundred dol- Jars for his work,” remarked Johnsen, fixing his crafty eyes suspiciously on Mickey, who was eagerly listening and looking, as if sharply seek— ing to get to the bottom of the secrets of these strange men. ““Give him his money and let him go,” con- tinued Johnson. ‘‘ What these papers contain is private matter. We don’t want to take any outsiders into our counsel.” This idea was evidently a good one. Much to his chagrim Mickey was paid and dismissed. After seeing him to the door and shutting it bebind him Johnson returned. Smithers had, meanwhile, scattered the papers over the table, and picked from their midst an official-lookmg document on parchment, which he proceeded to examine, A sharp cry of anger and triumph ceme frcm his lips, just as Johnson returned to the room. “What is the matter?’ exclaimed the latter. ** Glorious!” ejaculated Smithers. ‘“‘ We have been on the edge of a precipice, but’ we are raved. Only thatold Grim was afraid the law would go hard with him for his ugly work this aper would have been entered up against us ong ago.” ‘What is it?” “It is a later will of Marcus Sterling, in which we are cut off from any share in the estate. He suspected us at last of having something to Co with the loss of his son. The cunning fellow! He kept this to himself to the last.” “By Jove, old Grim has worked into our hands!” exclaimed Tompkins. ‘A blaze of fire to that bit of parchment and we are rich men. It is a glorions find.” “Go through the rest,” demanded Jobnson. “T am eager to know just how things stand.” Smithers laid his hand on the remaining pers. But he lifted it again .and raised his. head in alarm, with his eyes fixed on the, door. All the others sprung hastily to their feet.
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— 4 me > And with good reason, for at that moment an extraordinary hubbub had arisen in the hall. if heavy bodies were being dragged to and fro, and a sound ‘as of the voices of enraged animals. This was sueceeded by a heavy fall, and a kind of dull, crushing sound, felowed by cries | for help, and a growling voice like that of some furious beast. Seizing the lamp, Tompkins rushed into the hall, followed closely by the others, An unexpected sight revealed itself to their ) | ‘Yet there was no sign of fear in his sturdy | | | eyes. Two youthful forms were on the floor, one beneath and one above. And the upper one was hurling his tists into the face of the lower | with a savageness that mest business. ‘Help! Help!” came from the lps of the pun- ished boy, whose face was already covert ad with blood. “T1 help you, you dirty son of a sea mack- rel!” roared the other, as hecontinued his blows. The lower boy was Mickey Flanagan. Who was the upper? They stated in surprise, as they noticed are semblance to their prisoner. ‘Tompkins rushed forward, grasped him by the eollar, and dragged him to his feet. Then the light of the lamp revexled ‘the well- known features of Billy Brick. A ery of consternation burst from their lips. ‘You? This is incredible! You ‘free and here?” ‘ Kinder think it’s me.” answered Billy with a grin. ‘‘Been a fool, I s’pose, to go fur this coon: But I come’cross him creepin’ back to listen ter what wes goin’ on, and I couldn't keep my paws off the dirty cur. Guess y mw’ll say the tarrier had the best of it in that row.” ‘By heavens!” cried Smithers, ‘“we have been on the brink of ruin! He was within an Bring him back. We must This chap must be ‘aring defiauce on Mickey Flanagan, who creps after like a whipved hound. CHAPTER culv. THE HISTORY OF A CRIME. “WNerreer of them are to be trusted,” re- marked Smithers, witha dark look. ‘‘ We are not safe while either of those boys live.” he boys had been removed, and were now locked up, under gnard of the gardener, who had been called in as an aid to the schemes of \ the villains. “Walls will not hold that young rogue,” re- ied Johnson. ‘He has cut a hole a foot and a half square through a solid brick arch.” “« And the other one evidently intends to black- mail us. We will have no safety while they live.” “ Yet what can they do?’ asked Tompkins. “Tf that boy of Grim’s is the real heir to the es- tate, there ‘will be no_ proof of it when these sapers are destroyed We have nothing to fear. his will is a secret. Under the other we in- herit the property.” “Don't be too sure of that,” remarked John- son. ‘ We don’t know what old Grim may hold in the background. It is better to make sure.” “Ola Grim! <A fig for him!” exclaimed Smithers. ‘He will not trouble me again. He has gone West. And in the West there are dangers to meet.” “What do you mean” demanded Tompkins. “ Phat I have not been idle. I hardly fancy that Grim will escape a certain trap laid for bim. Ido not often bet, gentlemen, but T wil wager my share in the Sterling Estate that old Grim’s face is never seen again in this part of the world.” “T]] take that bet,” came a strange, stern voice from the door, which made them all start as if they had been s‘tting on needles.” It is no’ a heavy one, for your share in the Sterling Bstate is not worth a pinch of snuff.” The conspirators sprung to their feet, with cries of rage and consternation, They had reason for alarm, for the face in the doorway was one that they all recognized, with a choking spasm of fear. There stood the short, stout form, there ap- peared the grizzled, weather-beaten face, of no less a person than Jacob Grirn. The man of whose death they were s» lightly conversing had come upon them like a specter, to confront and confound them im the midst of their plots. “T think I have won that bet,” sg#d the old fellow, with his grimmest smile. *% And you have lost your share of the Sterling Estate. ‘The whole of you have lost, There was the loud scraping of feet, a noise as | | passed in the court that day. A hundred ques- “Have we?” exclaimed Smithers, savagely. ‘That is not so sure.” ner of the room, and sprung forward, with a murderous gleam in his eyes. His two confederates. followed, seizing such | weapons as came to their hands. t looked as if the old man had returned only to meet his death at the hands of his desperate foes. face. He simply stepped forward into the room, add ina moment the doorway was filled by the forms of a half-dozen burly, resolute men, who pressed into the room and confronted the as- sailants. ‘Hold your level,” exclaimed the leader of these, ‘‘or it will go rough with you. Back I say, and drop those weapons,” He drew a policeman’s club as he spoke. There was no need of it. The villains had re- coiled on seeing this reinforcement. They now stood cowering wiih fear. At this moment tbere came a slight scream from the opposite side of the room. All eyes turned to that quarter. It came from Polly Severn. She had until then been so absorbed in the jewels taken from the box as to forget all things else. But at sight of the leader of the opposite party she had let fall the shining trinkets, and started up with a cry of alarm. laugh broke from his lips. ‘So, it is Miss Severn, the polite housekeeper, who was so anxious to have tie house searched?” he remarked. ‘‘ You did pull wool over my | eyes neatly, PM admit that. I hardly think you will succeed again.” v He was the same person who had conducted the search before. He bowed with mock politeness as his follow- ers filed into the room, and took up their station against the-wall. This left the doorway unoccupied. Jessie Johnson, the craftiest of the three vil- lains, had been keenly watching the movements of the ollicers. The opportunity he hoped for had arrived. No sooner was the passage clear than he sud- | denly grasped the heap of papers that lay on the the door. intercept him, but too late. Tn a second he was through the doorway and in the hall outside. It looked asif he would es- cape, with the precious contents of the box. Old Grim started after him, with a growl of rage. One of the officers joined him. But, ere they reached the door there came the sound of voices, and of a struggle, from the outside. “Back!” cried the leader of the officers. “He is in good hands. The rear-guard will attend to him.” He was right. In another minute several more men crowded into the room, bringing with them as prisoner the desperate villain, and the papers which he had sought to destroy. They had also another prisoner. The rough- faced gardener, who bad been left as guard over the boyish captives, was in their hands. And, behind them came the round figure of young Toby, his dumpling-like face full of tri- umiph. Close in his wake came Billy Brick, his tongue in his cheek as he gazed on the discomfited villains. And bringing wp the rear, walked Mickey Flan- agan, bis face still plastered with blood, one eye swollen, and his whole look as if he had just buried his grandmother. The tables hed been decidedly turned. It was a striking scene that appeared in the room at that moment. Two of the villains remained behind the table, scared and cowering. Two others were in the hands of the officers, handcuffed and helpless. The valuable papers were firmly held by @ stalwart officer. oup of officers stood the a At the end of the erizzied old veteran, Jacob Grim, his face weaT- ing its sourest look as he fixed his eyes 01 the pale countenances of his discomfited foes. | On the opposite side of the room was Polly | Severn, cowering in a chair, with frightened eyes, while she was nervously thrusting into her | sa 9 the jewels by.which she had been fasci- hated, He turned his eyes toward her, and a grim | tble beside him, and made a desperate dash for } The leader of the officers sprung forward to | 4. : Billy Brick, the Jolly Vagabond, | We cannot 20s, step by step, over all that Nearer the door stood the three boys. Toby | proudly in advance, while Billy leaned against He had grasped a heavy bludgeon from a cor- | the duvor post, with his eyes on the face of Mickey Flanagan, who showed signs of an in- tention to slip away. “T spose boys oughtn’t to talk up ’mong men,” remarked Toby. ‘‘ But I reckon maybe these gemmans "d like to know how we came to pay *em a visit. “T kind o’ calculate ’'m down for that. That sneakin’ pug-dog”— pointing to Mickey— ‘thought he was mighty smart when he stole that box, But be was see’d and he was fol- lered. I knowed where the pug’d break fur, An’ I jist then come across Mr, Grim and told him what was loose. And that’s how we’re all here, if you wanter know.” “That is a fact,” replied Grim, brag when‘he gays that.” The eyes of Smithers and Tompkins were fixed on the boy with a savage glare. It would bave gone hard with Toby if they had caught bim “ Toby don’t | alone just then. ” remarked the * Take “There are your prisoners, leader of the c¢ffiicers to bis men. them.” At this moment there was an uncerpected di- version. While these words were being spoken Polly Severn had Leen creeping slyly a1ctrd the wall toward the door, gliding step ly step. Sbe seemed unobserved, the attention of the officers being otherwise engagcd. Suddenly she made a break for the docr. But she met with an unexpected obstacle. silly Brick had not been quite asleep, even if he seemed solely occupied in watching bis b« yish foe. ; When Polly attempted to dash through the door, to her surprise ske dashed against the strong arm of the boy, which barred the way. _ “LT wouldn’t go jist yit,” he remarked, mock- ingly. “Tain’t perlite to go that way without kissin’ good: by nor nothin’.” “Til kiss you, you ugly little wolf!” she hissed, darting upon bim and clawing wildly at bis face, while her eyes glared with rege. It was as much asthe bey could co to defend himself against the infuriated woman, and he would have got the worst of the bargain bad not one of the officers come to bis rescue. The diversion thus created was taken edvan- tage of by the ringleaders of the villains. Smithers rushed to one cf the wirdows of the room, and attempted to throw up the sash and Jeap out, but _ be was hindered by a catch above the sesh. Ere he could epen this Toby was upon him, clinging like a wild-catto bis arm. With a violent cath he Cashed his young assailant to the flcor; Lut his eppertunity was gone. A ccuple cf the cficers gray pled with him ere le could repeat bis endeavor. Ina moment they bad slipped handcuffs en bis wriste. His associates were served in the seme fash- ion. The game wes at an end. The villainous crew bad been caught at their moment of seem- ing trivmpb, and were in bends from which they weuld not find it easy to escape. That night they all slept in prison. The next day writs were issued against them on separate charges of child-stealipg, couspirecy to defraud, end false imprisonment, all on the oath of Jacob Grim. At the same time a demand was made upon the Orphan’s Court for restoration of the Bter- ling Feteve to its true heir, Harry Sterling, alias Billy Brick, now twenty-one years of age, ard fully competent to inherit undér the will. Thet Rilly was astounded need not be told. “But I ain’t twenty yit!” be eried. “ Sothere ain’t nothin’ but sour buttermilk in this jug 0’ yourn.” “You are twenty-one, my boy,” rejoined old Grim. “ Your age has been masked like every- thing else about you. I had my reasons for it all. Lam to describe them to-morrow before the Judges of the Orphan’s Court. Lam going to prove that you are the son of a rich gentle- man. instead of a street vagrant.” When the Orphan’s Court assembled the next day it was well packed. , Some idea of the interesting disclosure that was to be made had got abroad, and the public had crowded in. In a prominent seat, before the dignified judge, sat Jacob Grim. By his side sat bis pro- tege, Billy« Brick, Still in his ragged snit, but as independent in look as if he were judge bim- self. e Not far back sat the boy Toby and Judy Mul- hean, their eyes fixed on Billy with pride and admiration. ———
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——— -— "Bi lly Brick, the Jolly Vagabond. tions were asked, and it took several hours to From this point he had followed Jerry Tay- tell what we can go over in a few minutes, So we will but give the gist of Daddy Grim’s story, in which he fully cleared up the mystery | surrounding the Sterling Hstate and its heir. It appeared, then, that in his younger days, twenty years before, be had been somewhat | wild, and had been acquainted with many des- perate characters. On one occasion, being reduced to poverty ani! desperation by an unlucky gambling opera- tion, he had been approached by a villain nam- ed Jerry Taylor, and had been induced to join in an ugly scheme, for which a large sum was promised. This was no less than the abduction of a child, then about two years old. Driven by desperation he had joined in the illegal scheme; but on reaching the mansion from which the abduction was to take place he had discovered that it was the residence of Mar- eus Sterling, a gentleman who had been his friend many times in the past,.and to whom he owed a debt of gratitude. On learning this he‘had refused to go any fur- ther with the enterprise. As Jerry, his associate, persisted, he had‘start- ed to warn Mr. Sterling of what was ‘intended; but Jerry had pursued him, | | they had come six months before, | compatLy lor to a mining town in Nevada. Here Jerry had’ entered a family who had a reputed son somewhat over tiuree years old. The ruffian had there gone into mining opera- tions, But by dint of questioning Grim had traced this family to another mining-town, whence On investi- gating there he learned that the boy was not their son, but had been left with them by a stranger who had at once departed from the town. Inducing the man who told him this to ac- ‘iim to the other town he succeeded in having Jerry identified as this stranger. There was no further doubt in his mind, This was the stolen child of Marcus Sterling. What to do was the next question. Just then Jerry left the town. Grim now negotiated with the family, and by free use of money succeeded in buying the boy from them, and getting their testimony as to how they had obtained him, He returned at once to Philadelphia with his | valuable prize. felled him with the | blow of a bludgeon, and leftdtim senseless.on the | ground. On:comirg. to ‘his ‘senses again his memory of what had passed was-entirely gone. His brain had been injured by the blow. He had wandered off and made his way home, | but for a year afterward he remained in a dazed condition, and bad no recollection of what had passed on that night of crime. He had heard the story of the abduction of | the child of Mareus Sterling, and that a large reward was offered for his recovery, but failed toremember that he was conversant with the fact. fter a year bis: memory slowly returned. | With surprise and horror he recalled his connec- tion with the affair. He was in doubt what'to do, the reward bad brought no veturn, the anthori- ties had withdrawn it, and cffered a large re- ward for the capture-of any one connected with the affair, threatening to deal with them very severely if they should be caught. In the weak'state of liis'braim ‘this scared him, and he dared not:make his participation known. He set himself, on the contrary, to search for Jerry Taylor, determining to first find what had been done with the stelen child, and who were the hidden ‘agents in this crime Bvt, he was in doubt what to do. He could not prove that the child was the right one. Evidence from Jerry Taylor must be got to prove that. He also soon saw that he was watched. Evi- dently the secret villains had got on his track. Determined to finish.his work he secretly put the child under the care of some poor friends of his, and again left the city in search of Jerry Taylor. He wasseveral years absent, and returned un- successful. On reaching Philadelphia he found that his friends were both dead, and the seeming orphan was making his living on the street.as a news- vender. This:suited Grim’s plans. way of keeping secret the real history of the | boy. ; | Just then, since | He knew he was watched. and dared not take charge of the friendless lad. Yet he kept a sort | of silent guardianship over him, and befriended A year had passed in this search without ef- | fect. Then, on one stormy night, while lurking in the vicinity of Sterling Mansion, he had unex- pectedly met Jerry Taylor.ecoming from the di- rection of ‘that-edifice. A fury of rage bad come upon him in thus meeting his foe. He had attacked him and knocked him-senseless. In falling, a box had flown from Jerry’s hends. This the half-insane man grasped and ran a‘vay with. i The next day he had recognized it as one which he had once seen in Marcus Sterling’s pos- session. He knew-then ‘that Jerry Taylor had stolenitias‘he had stolen the child. His first intention was to return it; but:on reading the-morning papers he discovered that Marcus Sterling had died the day before. The villains, Whoever they were, had instigated Jerry to steal ‘this box, doubtless containing valuable papers Telating to the dead man’s es~ tate. Grim was. again seared; He was:afraid to re- turn the box, for fear of being charged with the robbery. He determined to keep it in his possession un- til the secret villains should show ‘their hands, and then come down upon them with the evi- | cence he possessed. He set himself again on the itrack.of Jerry Taylor. This.time he was lucky enough.to trace him. He determined not tolose sight of him again until he should find the stolen boy, In disguise he had followed Jerry -and traced him to the house of William Smithers, one of | the heirsunder the: Sterling will. Shortly afterward Jerry had left ‘the city, with the disguised sny in his wake. | He had gone-to.Cahfornia, and in San Fran- cisco had communicated with two other persons, | Harry Tompkins-and Jesse Johnson. Through inquiry*he Jearned that they ‘also were heirs of the Sterling Estate, in case the lost son was are found, The pursuer began ‘to*see through the game. He-tiadl. learned who “were ‘the sk instiga- ‘tors: ofthe abduction. him so much that the boy began to look upon him as a sort of parent. As time went on his enemies grew more bold. They suspected him of shaving the lest casket-of the Sterling Estete, and made many efforts to get it from‘him, but without success. Finally he had received tidings of the where- abouts of Jerry Taylor. Afraid to take the casket with him, for.fear of being pursued and perhaps killed, he had left it with the boy, with strict charge:of secrecy, and gone in search of his old associate. After a long search in the West, he had traced him, but found that he had returned to Phila- delphia. Thither Grim had at once returned, and ar- rived just in time to be of service. He had learned from Toby, whom che knewias one of Billy’sassociates, all that had happened, and the peril of the lost. boy, He had at once led a party of police to the Sterling Mansion,.and, as it proved, just in time to.discomfit the villains in their plans. He had learned more. In the ruflianly gar- dener-he-had discovered Jerry Taylcr, the child- stealer. whom he‘had so long pursued! The-telling of his long-and exciting story ‘was followed by the examination by the judge of the contents of the mysterious casket. The jewels and papers had been replaced init. Among thelatter was the second will. Other papers. were ‘certain ones gathered and placed there by Grim, One was signed by the Nevada family, showing how.and from whom they had received the boy left in their charge. 2 Another was signed by the Brick family, in whose charge Grim had left the boy. There were other papers ‘to prove that the street boy, , Billy Brick, was the reputed son of this family, There was.only one missing link. And that was in possession of the prisoner Jer- ry Taylor. This was:gained:from him by.a shrewd detec- tive. On promise. of being favored in the ecom- ine trial he acknowledged the abduction and that he had placed the child with the Nevada family. And the old nurse of the stolen boy was. stil] living and able ‘to identify Billy by certain marks which were»on his» bodyand which ‘had been on thatrofthernursling, — The -chain of evidence was complete. Billy Brick, the vagrant street boy, was proved to be thelost he'rof the Sterling Estate,.and the own- er.of a noble mansion a property valued at several hundred thousand :dollars. There was no better | | scarcely say. 15 We might dilate at length on all that followed but must bring our story to a close. Thet the villains got their deserts we need The three principal rogues re- ceived ten years in prison each for their various crimes, Taylor, the abductor, got the same sentenee, but was told that he would have had twenty | years but for his services to the commonwealth in turning State’s evidence. Poily Severn, who was proven to be an active accomplice of the villains, was seut for five years to the penitentiary to refiect.on the consequences of crime, As for Mickey Flanagan, there was no special- ly criminal act proved against him and he was set free with a severe admonition by the judge. His ill-gotten hundred dollars was taken from him and donated to the newsboys’ home. Such was the reward of crime. Virtue also received its reward. silly Brick, or Harry Sterling, to give bim his proper name, was at once sent to school, and put under the training of teachers, who cured him of many of his rough ways, though they could not make a polished gentleman of bim. He insisted on Toby being his school compan- ion, and the sharp little fellow proved an apt scholar and rapidly cast of his vagabondish ways. As for Daddy Grim, he was placed in charge of the Sterling Estate, while Judy Mulhgan be- came mistress of the tenant-house, with no trou- ble to pay rent and never a lack of provisions in her pantry. It was five years before Harry Sterling was ready to come to his own, as master of the Ster- ling Estate. Toby accompanied him as his friend and secre- tary. And there the old friends yet live happily and peacefully together. Daddy Grim is growing very old and shaky, and Mrs. Mulligan has lost much of her old liveliness, Yet their old days are happy days, while the young master of the estate has never forgotten his old street friends or let foolish pride enter his sound young heart. THE END. BEADLE AND ADAMS’ STANDARD BIME PUELICATIONS Speakers. Each volume contains 100 large pages, printed from clear, open type, comprising the best coléc- tion of Dialogues, Dramas and Recitations, The Dime Speakers.embrace twenty-four volumes, viz.: 1. American Speaker. 15. Komikal Speaker. 2. National Speaker. 16, Youth’s Speaker. 3. Patriotic Speaker. 17. Eloquent Speaker. 4. Comic Speaker. 18, Hail Columbia Speak- 5. Eloeutionist. er. 6, Humorous: Speaker. 19. Serio-Comic Speaker, 7. Standard Speaker. 20. Select ape 8. Stump Speaker. 21. Funny Speaker: 9. Juvenile Speaker. 22, Jolly Speaker. 23. Dialect Speaker. 24. Recitations and Read ings. Burlesque Speaker. 10, Spread-Eagle Speaker 11. Dime Debater. 12, Exhibition Speaker. 3. School Speaker. 14. Tudicrous: Speaker. These books are replete with choice pieces for*the Scheol-voom, the Exhibition, for Homes, ete. ‘75 to 100 Declamations and Recitations in each. book. 25. Dialogues. The Dime Dialogues, each volume 100"pages, em- brace thirty-two books, viz.: Dialogues No; One. Didlogues ‘No. Richteen. Dialogues. No. Two. Dialogues No. Nineteen. Dialogues No, Three. |Dialogues No. Twenty. Dialogues No, Four. Dialogues. No. Twenty-one: Dialogues No. Five. Dialogues No. Twenty-two. Diatogues No. Six. Dialogues No. Twenty-three. Dialogues No, Seven. |Dialogues No. Twenty-four. Dialogues No. ‘Bight. Dialogues No. Twenty-five. Dialogues No. Nine. Dialogues, No, Twenty-six. Dialognes No. Ten, Dialogues No, Twenty-seven, Dialogues No. Eleven. |Dialognes, No. Twenty-eight, Dialogues No. Twelve. |Dialogues No, Twenty-nine Dialogues No. Thirteen. | Dialogues No, Thirty. Dialogues No. Fourteen. |Dialogues No. Thirty-one, Dialogues No. Fifteen. Dialogues No, Thirty-two. Dialogues ‘No. Sixteen. (Dialogues No. Thirty-three. Dialogues No.Seventeen 1h to 25 Dialogues and ‘Dramas in-each beok. (er The above books are-sold by snewsdealers everywhere,.or will be sent, post-paid, to any ad BEADLE dress, on receipt of price,.ten cents each. anp AvaMs, Publishers, 98 William st., N. Y
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5 Ore he, ern it a - a “To the death, of course, Midnight!” was the | | | rejoinder. ‘‘ You’re struck! clean into my face.” “ But it never leaped from my heart.” “Oho! well, Pll tap that fountain!” “Tf you can, Golden.” Your blood spurt- agent's lips when he threw his antagonist half- | way round and his knife hand struck the stone- | wall heavily. A cry told him what had befallen George. | His knife, too, was gone! The foes now grappled. In that Stygian gloom they went down to rise again, and fight with the weapons which Nature had given them. Now against the walls, now in the middle of the cave, now up, now down, they fought—to the death! Once they paused for breath, standing erect like gladiators, the hand of each at the throat of the other; then at it again. But this could not always last. Midnight suddenly wrenched his foe from him; he flung him away and fell to the ground himself. As he did so something slid from un- der his feet—Golden’s lost knife. With acry which he could not suppress, Mid- a seized the weapon and listene‘. a dull thud that had followed his last success, he heard nothing of the Sport. Many moments, knife in hand, the road-agent waited for a renewal of the combat; butit came not. lence, as before! “Pm armed; all the advantage is with me!” he said to himself. .‘‘Golden struck the wall. Maybe—” e said no more but began to circumnavi- ate the cavern, his hand on the wall to guide im. All at once he stopped and sprung back; his hand had touched the Sport’s flesh. “Tm going to pass in my checks night,” said a voice in the gloom. “ You've got my knife. I know it; but you needn’t use it. There’s nothing left of my_ head; ou threw me plump against. the wall. * ast dust is on the table, and death holds all the trumps. Midnight, I didn’t get to do it; no, I cannot keep my word! Your sister is in the canyon. Follow the bed westward to the trified trunk of a tree. Thecave is there. I eft her safe. I was going to see if Nugget Noli was at the Agency. idn’t want to meet him, ou know. idnight, this tussle has been to he dzath. Where are you?” “flere, Golden,” and the victor crept for- ward till he bent over his foe—till he clasped the hand of the dying man. “Did yee tell Dora that—” ‘No, I didn’t,” was the interruption; ‘“ but she more than half suspects. That girl has come away out here to make a man of you. Your father is dying; he wants you back. ou ought to hear her tell how he took back the curse of exile; how—” “Stop, Golden! let me think a moment. I a going back, I almost wish we hadn’t met thus. ‘*No! that’s not the way to talk. We were born to fight right here—that’s my doctrine. You needn’t tell the boys how I di Let ’em think that I just disa . [Im going to now. Death has clutched Golden ane talkin, rge’s ast stakes. I—throw—down the— 8! Midnight Jack knew what was coming; he felt a shiver run through the hand he held. The death-gurgle broke the silence of the scene, and the fingers of Golden George, the Bport, fell from the road-agent’s hand. All was over! ‘* A man of his word!” said Midnight, rising. *« He found his own tomb, and died in it, Good by, Golden! I believe your doctrine, too. We were bound to fight to the death!” The road-agent now turned his attention to escape from the caverm; and all at once he heard a human voice. “This must be the place! Stay behind! Tl drop into the hole, fur the Screamin’ Eagle of the ky Roost hes been in dark holes afore!” Midnight Jack uttered a cry of delight, and the next instant the friends seek. “Took to the north, Dora. Up yonder is Sioux-land. Would you go back there?” ‘Yes, to find the brother I have sought. Jack, if they had killed me—” “I would not be here within sight of Fort ~~ What did I write on the wagon which I loaded with dead Indians?—that I would exter- minate the Sioux nation! But you live, Dora. IT thank heaven I had not your death to avenge!” At last he called the name of bis foe; si- | Mid- | Midnight Jack. AS ee “It 1s good-by to the road now#” ‘*No! it is farewell forever |” When Midnight Jack rode boldly into Fort Sully, he was af once put under arrest by the But a sweet face and a sweeter | voice pleaded for his release, and Midnight dar- The ‘last word kad scarcely left the road- | ed the colonel to point to one loyal citizen whom he had plundered. Then came the story of the father’s curse —the exile—the stirring scenes | which we have witnessed in the course of this commandant. narrative, and—the release. The shout was now, ‘‘ Eastward ho!” Gopher Gid—or Gideon Weston as the boy’s true name was—looked into the hill home again and bade it farewell. A pair of eyes had more fascination for him than that little hermitage, and he made one | the East-bound party. Beyond | Time has rolled on. The soldier father dea 1; the exile is a prosperous man far from the golden coast; and the little trapper’s love has just been rewarded by the bestowal of a woman’s hand. Rube Rattler—he is back on the frontier where he tells with gusto how he hung for six hours the sun-dance, By fastening the torture cords straps beneath the old cavalry jacket! He took the widow McGee, ‘' dow’ry ” and all, THE END. BEADLE’S Ha'f-Dime Library. 1 Deapwoop Dick. By Edward L. Wheeler.... 2 YeLLowsTone Jack. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.. 3 Kansas Kriya. By Buffalo Lill ‘ 4 Tue Witp-Horse Hunters. By Mayne Reid... , 5 Vacanond Joe. By Oll Coomes. ‘ § Brut Bropon, Trapper. By Edward §. Ellis.. 7 THe Fiyine YANKEE, By Col. Ingraham.,..... 8 Sern Jones. By Edward 38. Ellis i ved 9 Tae ApVEeNTURES oF BARON MUNCHAUSEN..... 10 Nat Topp. By Edward §, Ellis 11 Tae Two Derrcrives, By Albert W. Aiken.. 12 GuLLIVER’s TRAVELS, earns 13 Toe Dump Spy. ByOll Comes.. ............. 1¢- RVABOIN. 3. cruel 15 Tue Sea Cat. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 16 RoBINSON CRUSOE .... ee 3 17 Raupn Roy. By Col Prentiss Ingraham. ... 18 SrunpBAD THE SAILOR.... ..... ne a > 19 Tae Poantrom Spy. By Buffalo Bill .. ...... 20 Toe Dousite Daceers. By Ed. L. Wheeler. . 21 FronweEer ANGEL, By Edward 8, Ellis...... y 2 Tue Sea SERPENT. Col. Juan Lewis ..... 283 Nick o’ tHe Nicut. By T. C. Harbaugh. ... 24 Diamonp Dirk. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham... 25 Tur Boy Caprarn. By Roger Starpuck...... 26 CLroven Hoop, tHe Demon. By E. L. Wheeler 27 ANTELOPE ABE, THE Boy GuIpE. Oll Coomes.. 28 Burrato Ben. By Edward L. Wheeler... 29 Tae Dump Pace. By Capt. F. Whittaker... 30 Roarina Ratpn Rockwoop. By H. St. George 81 Kren-Knire. By Oll Coomes 82 Bos Wootr., By Edward L. Wheeler .. .... 83 THe OceAN BLoopHounp. By S. W. Pierce.... 84 OrEcon Sou. By Capt. J. F.C, Adams...., ; 85 Witp Ivan. By Edward L. Wheeler......... 86 THe Boy Crown. By FrankS. Finn ...... 37 THe Hippen Lop@r. By T.C. Harbaugh ..., 88 Nep Wyipg. By Texas Jack GaN caters 89 Dearu-F ack, THE DETECTIVE, ate: L. Wheeler 40 Rovinc Ben. By John J. Marshall........... 41 Lasso Jack. By Oll Coomes .. PF 42 Tap Puanrom Miner. By Ed. L. Wheeler. ... 43 Dick Darina. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker 44 Rarrire Ruse. By Harry St. Ng hak 45 Oto Avatancne. By Edward L. eeler.... 46 Guass-Eyr. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams . ..... 47 Nicuttneate Nat, By T. C. Harbaugh.....,. 48 BLACK Jonn, THE RoaD-AGENT. J. E. Badger, Jr 49 OMaHA OLL, By Edward L. Wheeler........... 50 Burt Bunger. "By Charles E. Lasalle....,..... 51 Tre Boy Riis, By Archie C. Iron........... 62. Tae Wuite Burrato, By Charies E. Lasalle... 53 Jim Buupsor, Jn, By Edward L. Wheeler..... 54 Nep HAZEL. By Capt. J. F. C.Adams.... .... 55 Deapiy-Eye. By Buffalo Bill................... 56 Nick WHIFFLES’s Per, By J. F. C. Adams..... 57 DeapwooD DIcK’s Eaauxs. By EB. L. Wheeler.. 58 Tue Borper Kina. By Oll Coomes....... setae 59 Otp Hickory. By y St. George..... ... 60 Tae Watre Inpian. By J. F. C. Adams....... 61 BuckHorn BILL. By Edward L. Wheeler...... 62 Tue SHapow Surp. By Col. P. Ingraham...... 683 Tue Rep BROTHERHOOD. By W. J. Hamilton . 64 Danpy Jack. By T. C, Harbaugh. aie 65 Hurricane BILL. By Jos. BE. Badger, Jr ...--- 66 Sincre Hanp. By W. J. Hamilton.........--- 67 PaTent-LEATHER JOE. By Philip S. Warne..-- 68 Tue BorpEeR Rosin Hoop. By Buffalo Bill... 69 Gop Rirte. By Edward L. Wheeler. . 70 Otp Zre'’s CaBin. By J. F.C. Adams..- 71 DeLAwARE Dick. By Oll Coomes......--- " 72 Map Tom WersTERN. By W. J. Hamilton....... 73 Dmapwoop Dick ON Deck. By EB. L. Wheeler., 74 Haws-eye Harry. By OllCoomes..-..~--.-.. 7 Tum Boy Duruist. By Col. P. Ingraham...... 76 Ang Cour, THE Crow Kruter. By A. W. Aiken SERTTS SST SSS TLS SES SALTS RLS SS SSS SSS S LSS SSS SESS TESTS SSE of is in to 5e 5¢ 5¢ 5c Oc 5e 5c 5¢ Se en ee ee ee ee ee 77 Corpuroy CHagum. By Edward L. Wheeler.. 5c 78 Buve Dick. By Captain Mayne Reid < 5e 79 Sot GINGER, THE GIANT TRapper, A.W. Aiken. 5c 80 RosEBuD Ros. By Edward L. Wheeler ... 81 Licutnina Joxr. By CaptainJ. F.C. Adams. . 82 Hareroor. By T. C. Harbaugh. etre 83 Roito, rHe Boy Ranoer, By Oll Coomes.... 84 IpyL, THE GIRL Miner. By Ed. L. Wheeler .. 85 Buck BuckraM. By Captain J. F.C. Adams... 86 Danpy Rock. By G. Waldo Browne ... , 87 Tue Lanp Pirates. By Capt. Mayne Reid... 88 PHorograPH PHit. By Edward L. Wheeler.... 89 Isnanp Jim. By Bracebridge Hemyng......... 90 THe Dread Riper. By G. Waldo Browne. ... 91 Tae CapraIn OF THE CiuB. By Bracebridge Hemyng.... , re oc eae 92 Canada Cuet. By Edward L. Wheeler . 93 Tue Boy Miners. By Edward §. Ellis 94 Mipniaut Jack. By T. 0. Harbaugh... ; 95. Tue Rrvat Rovers. By Lieut. Col. Hazeltine. 96 WarcH-Eyr. By Edward L, Wheeler. Se 97 THE OuTLAW BrotHers. By J. J. Marshall... 98 Rosin Hoop. By Prof. Stewart Gildersleeve... 99 Tur TiceR or Taos. By George W. Browne... 100 DEADWoop Dick IN LEADVILLE. | Wheeler. 101 JacK Harkaway IN New YORK. y Brace- bridge Hemyng..... © -s+ s+ esse 102 Dick Drap-Eyr. By Col. Prentiss Ingraha 103 THE Lion or THE Sea. By Col. Delle Sara 104 Deapwoop Dick’s Device. By Ed.L. Wheeler. 105 Oup Ruz, raz Hunter. By Capt. H. Holmes . 106 OLD Frosty, raz Guipg. By T. C. Harbaugh.. 107 One-Eyep Sm. By J. L. Bowen.. 108 Darina Davy. By Harry St. George..... .... 109 DeaDwoop Dick as Derective. By Wheeler 110 Tue BLACK Stexp or THE Prairies. By Bowen 111 Tue Sea-Devi. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.. 112 THe Map Hunter. By Burton Saxe ........ 118 Jack Hoyvte. By Edward L. Wheeler.. 114 Tue Buack Scoooner. By Roger Starbuck... 115 THe Map Mixer. By G. Waldo Browne...... 116 THe HvossaR CApraln. By Col. P. Ingraham. 117 Grur-Epc¢Ep Dick. By Ecward L. Wheeler... 118 Wit Somers, THE Boy DeTEcTIVE. By Morris.. 119 Musrane Sam. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr......... 120 Toe BranpED Hanp. By Frank Dumont .... 121 Crynamon Cup. By Edward L. Wheeler...... 122 Pum Harpy, THE Boss Bory. By Chas. Morris. 123 Kiowa Cuartey. By T.C. Harbaugh... .... 124 Tippy, Tar TEXAN. By George Gleason...... 125 Bonanza Brut, Miner. By E. L. Wheeler..... 126 Picayune Pers. By Charles Morris........... 127 Wip-Firr, By Frank Dumont.......-- 123 THe Youna Privateer. By Harry Cavendish. 129 DEapwoop Dicx'sDovgix, By E. L. Wheeler. 130 Derectrve Dick. By Carles Morris.. 131 Tue GoLpEN Haxp. By George W. Browne.. 132 Tae Hunrep Hunter. By Edward §. Ellis... 133 Boss Bos. By Edward L. Wheeler ‘ 134 Sure-SHot Seta. By Oll Coomes........ .--- 185 Caprarn Pact. By C. D. Clark . 136 NignrHawk Krr, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.... 137 Tue Heuptess Hanp, By Capt. Mayne Reid. 138 Bionpe Bru. By Edward L. Wheeler.... .. 189 Jupex Lyncu, Jr. Py T. C, Harbaugh : 140 Biuge Buazes. By Frank Dumont... ....... 141 Sotrp Sam. By Edward L. Wheeler .. 142 Hanpsome Harry. By Charles Morris......- 148 Scar-Face Savi. By Oll Coomes. 144 Datnty Lance, Tur Boy Sport. 145 Caprain Frrret. By Edward L. eeler... 146 Sruver Star. By Oll Coomes.:......-- ----- 147 Wut Witprirg. By Charles Morris.......... 148 SHarp Sam. By J. Alexander Patten.... .. . 149 A Game or Gotp. By Edward L. Wheeler... 150 LANCE AND Lasso, By Capt. F. Whittaker.... 151 Panruer Pav. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.... 152 Buack Bess. By Charles Morris.............. 153 Eacie Krr, roe Boxy Demon. By Oll Coomes. 154 Tue Sworp-Hunters. By Capt. F.Whittaker Se 155 Gotp Triecer. By T. C. Harbaugh.... 156 Drapwoop Dick or DgEaDWwoop, By Wheeler. 157 Mike Merry. By Charles Morris... ... 158 Fancy Frank oF Cotorapo, By Buffalo Bill.. 159 Tur Lost Caprain. By Fred. Whittaker..... 160 Tum Buack Giant. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr... 161 New York Nett. By Edward L. Wheeler .. 162 Writ WILDFIRE IN THE Woops. By C. Morris. 163 Litre Texas. By Oll Coomes.. ...----: =: 164 Danpy Rock's Pieper. By Geo. W. Browne. . 165 Bruty Baeaacer, rue Ramroap Boy. Morris.. 166 Hicxery Harry. By Harry St. George.--.... 167 Asa Scorr. By Edward Willett... 168 DeADLY Dasn. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. .. 169 ToRNADO Tom. By T. C. Harbaugh... .. . 170 A Trump Carp. By Charles Morris........... 171 Esony Dan. By Frank Dumont... 172 Taunpersotr Tom. By Harry St. George.... 178 Danpy Rocr’s Rrvat. By Geo. W. Browne.. 174 Bon Rocnerr. By Charles Morris........ ... 75 Capram Arizona. By Philip 8. Warne....... fie 176 Tax Boy Runawa¥. By Lieut. H. D. Perry.. 5c 177 Nopsy Nick or Nevapa, By E, L. Wheeler.. 50 A new issue every week. Beadle’s Half-Dime Library is for sale by all Newsdealers, five cents per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each, BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William street, N. Y. Pes oe : SRE F LESESRSRSSERES ESTE SERENE SESE SSS STRESS SESSSESERE SPETSTST THSTSESES oor erewes SETTER PTR SSSR SER ERS