Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 536) (1887 11 01)
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; \\ Li - Ww NM WR / rcp sai OS, —————— a eames (A ‘Oy A# al i nn SS le ll Vat tL cD ll a Sa kl ___Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., at Second Class Mail Rates, _Copyright, 1887, by BEADLE AND ADAM&, a o renames a aR eS A een $2.50 PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Price, Vol, XXL. a Year. No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents. No. 536. — \ _<t ara / - f eet / if f/f < . - Siar AY = a\\ \ WN MN ui Old Rodman's Milions BY J. C. COWDRICK, AUTH@R OF ‘‘ BROADWAY BILLY,” ‘‘ REDLIGHT RALPH,” “CIBUTA JOHN,” ‘DISCO DAN,” “RAINBOW ROB,” ‘‘ KENTUCKY JEAN,” ETC., ETC., ETC. CHAPTER I. BILLY SCENTS A MYSTERY. “SwEeET pertaters! there’s a consarned difh- kilty a-brewin’ bere, an’I know it! I have been sort o’ longin’ fera case ter crop up, so’s I might = ‘ try my hand at detective work again, an’ I = ee reckon it’s a-croppin’ now. manne. Chita —————— . Hey, Skinny! 4 ? THEN THE MATE PROCURED AN AX AND KNOCKED ONE END OF THE BARREL IN, AND Hello} what's th’ racket?” BILLY WAS DRAWN OUT INTO THE WORLD OF THE LIVING ONCE MORE. ’
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¥ hay y hs .chromo ter boot an’ yer fare paid home. “Tf it won’t be too much labor fer ye ter mosey yer hefty carcass out here fer a brief second or so, come on an’ I'll see if I kin drive th’ facts o’ th’ case through yer hair.” ‘* All right, Billy, ’'ll be there in jest two winks.” The speakers were two boys. One was Broadway Billy, the Bootblack Bravo, and the other was his chum and partner, “Skinny.” They £5 at last bought a corner stand such as they had had their minds set upon for so long, and were now actively engaged in busi- ness, They sold papers, etc., and also the thousand and one toys and useful articles usually to be found in the stock of the area merchants, Their stand was by the corner of a large wholesale house, under the shelter of a wooden awning that extended clear out to the curb, and they could keep open shop in any kind of weather. A part of their estabiishment was inclosed, and therein their stock in trade was stored away at night, the boys taking turns in sleeping there to guard it. Late in the afternoon of the day of which we write, Billy was busily at work at cleaning the tops of their several show-cases, when his atten- tion was drawn to a likely-looking customer who had stopped to look at the display of knives in one of the cases mentioned. ‘*Sell you a knife, sir?’ Billy queried, as he stepped forward. ‘‘ Best knives in the city, sir, fer th’ price; warrapted pure steel or money re- funded. Let me show’em to ye. It don’t cost nothin’ ter handle ’em, an’ look at ’em, whether ye buy or not. Here, jist fix yer off eye onto this one;.ain’t it a daisy? Take it right inter yer own hands, mister, an’ look it all over, in- side an’ out. That’s what we’ve got ’em here fer, sir, so grip rigat on. It’s jest as free as th’ air ve breathe, an’ a good deal purer. Then here's another, a reg’lar—” “‘T don’t know as I keer tew buy,” the young man interrupted as he accepted the knife rather hesitatingly; ‘‘I was only jest a-lookin’ at om,” ** Now, mister, you need a knife in th’ worst kind o’ way, I know ye do, an’ I want ter sell ye one. Toat’s jest what I’m here fer, an’ nothin’ else. Now there’s a knife I kin warrant, an’ Ll sell it to ye dirt cheap and cheaper, too.” “* How much?” the young man inquired. “Sixty cents, spot cash.” ‘* Sixty cents! why I kin buy one down th’ street there a-ways fer forty cents.” ‘*Can’t help it, mister, if ye kin, an’ oe a e sell good articles at a fair price, an’ warrant ’em. Why, when ye get back to yer Jersey farm this knife will be th’ pride o’ th’ county!” ‘* How did you know I was from Jarsey?” the young man inquired. ‘*T guessed at it,” Billy answered. ‘I’ve been knockin’ around here fer some years, an’ I ree size a stranger up purty close to right, every ime. ‘* Wal, ya hit me right, anyhow.” ‘*Glad ter hear it. An’ now let me hit ye right ag’in an’ sell ye this knife.” ** Call in fifty cents, then, an’ I don’t know but T will buy it.” : ‘“‘Can’t do it,” Billy declared, flatly. ‘‘We buy low an’ sell low, an’ have only one price. We're born American citizens, an’ deal right on th’ fair an’ square. Now [ kin sell ye this knife fer fifty—" ‘‘No, no, never mind. I guess I'll take this one. I do need a knife some, jest as you said, an’ this one kind o’ suits me. Here’s yer money.” ‘‘ Thanks,” said Billy, as he accepted it, ‘* Now, is there anything else?” “No, no, I—” ** Here’s some fine—” ‘*No, no; nothin’ more this time;” and the young man went on his way. ““ Well, ev’ry sale counts one, anyhow,” Billy mused, “ an’ ’ve made quitea few of ‘em to-day, an’ so has Skinny. If he only had a little more ebin it would be better for th’ firm, but he does right well, an’ [ can’t complain. We're makin’ it pay, an’ that’s allI kin expect till we git our hands in good.” He wenton with his work then. Presently he looked up, and, glancing down the street, his attention became suddenly fixed upon something he saw. He 2g for a moment in silence, and then came his exclamation: ** Sweet “aay Then followed the words with which our story opens. TSkimny, who was doing some work in the in- ‘ a) igh > be Broadway Billy’s “ Diffikilty.” — part of their establishment, soon came orth. He was as skinny as ever. ‘Well, what is it, Billy?’ he asked, as he joined his partner. | **D’ye see that young man down th’ street | there?—that country-lookin’ chap that is leanin’ | *gainst th’ post.” “Yes, ’ve got my peepers onto him.” “Well, jist keep ’em there while I orate.” * All right, fire away.” ‘* Well, I sold that feller a knife a little while ago, an’—” ‘*T thought ye would, th’ way ye was a-chin- nin’ ’bout knives,” “Shut oe ye need yer breath. I’ve heard that fat folks gits short o’ wind mighty easy. I sold him a knife as I said, an’ while I was doin’ it I picked up the fact that he is from Jersey.” “*'That’s nothin’, It’s a wonder ye didn’t learn his bull fambly history, from his grandmother down.” _ ‘* He didn’t give me no sort 0’ chance. I was in a fair way ter pump him, but he rushed off | afore I could do it.” “Well, is that all ye’ve got ter say ter me?” Skinny demanded. “No, that ain't all. If ye’d only keep yer | pie-trap closed fer a minute, I’d soon be able ter | spread th’ facts out afore ye. Now, do you see | anything peculiar round here, takin’ that feller | as th’ center-figger o’ th’ fiction?” ‘* No, I can’t say as I do, Billy.” ‘* Well, that ain’t very surprisin’. I didn’t see nothin’ peculiar myself at th’ first glance. Have ye still got yer eyes glued to th’ center figger?” Sure,” “Well, now let ‘em drift away a little, an’ take in them three fellers standin’ close to th’ door o’ th’ hotel there.” ** Pve got ’em.” ‘* D’ye know any one of ’em?” “cc Sure.” “‘ Which one?” | ““Why, Tony Duke, th’ one that’s dressed up like a reg’lar masher.” ‘“*Kerrect! an’ th’ biggest sharper in th’ hull town o’ Gotham!” **So I’ve heard.” “Ye heard right, then. Don’t know neither of th’ others, eh?” ‘No “Neither doI. It seems purty clear, though, that one of ’em is a friend o’ Tony’s—I mean that prize-fighter lookin’, bull-neck feller; an’ | th’ old gent there looks like one of th’ ton. What d’ye think?” ‘* Guess ye’ve pot it about right, Billy.”, ‘Jest what I guess myself. Now is there | anything else ye notice in pertic’lar? Don’t | stand an’ stare at ’em; make believe ye’rs tend- | in’ straight ter biz.” ‘“ Why, they seem ter me ter be talkin’ ’bout | th’ feller you sold th’ knife to.” | “There! now ye’ve got onto th’ idee exactly, Skinny. That’s jest what they are doin’, sure | as shootin’. When I first tumbled to it, th’ old | man was pointin’ him out to Tony an’ bis pard, | an’ was tellin’ ’em somethin’ in a sort 0’ earnest- / like way. An’ that is why I say there’s acon sarned diffikilty brewin’ here, an’ I knowit. An’ | if there is, an’I don’t make th’ wrong sort’ | kalkerlation, they kin count Broadway Billy right inter swim with ’em, you bet! I’ve been | sort 0’ pinin’ fer some sort o’ mystery ter crop | up an’ give me a chance ter try my band at de- | tective work once more., I’m never so bappy as when I’m up to my ears in some sort 0’ muss, Yes, my gay an’ festive pard, that’s jest whats | th’ matter with Hanner; there’s mischief o’ some sort here, an’ don’t ye fergit it! I’ve got jest th’ sharpest nose fer musses an’ mystery that ye *most ever heard of. Why, I kin smell Dutch cheese an’ sauerkraut two blocks away without an effort. Ob! I'm a terror on th’ smell, Iam sure. ‘* But, 'm driftin’ away from th’ p’int. | AsT said, I believe there’s a diffikilty sproutin’ up here, an’ if it isso, Pll show Inspector Br— Hello! the old gent is movin’ off.” Yes, ye’re right. I reckon he’s finished his biz vith Tony Duke an’ his chum.” : ‘* That’s about th’ lay o’ the land, and I’d like ter know who th’ old man is. If I could divide myself up as it were, I would foller him. But I can’t, an’ th’ only way fer me ter git a halter onto the skeem is ter keep my peepers peeled fer th’ countryman, . Eh, Skinny?” 29 Right you are_ me dear.” ‘* Aw th’ more I think of it th’ more I begin oa ter feel assured that there is some sort triberlation about ter transpire.” $y no dinin’ on dictionary?” “No, I ain’t. been dinin’ on dicti mary, nor nothin’ o’ th’ kind. I’m talkin’ reg’lar U.S. hoss sense. If ye fail ter ketch on, ye must lay th’ blame to yer limited onderstanding. Fat folks don’t allus bave an over supply o’ thinkin’ machinery. But, you’re bound ter keep me away from th’ subjeck of discourse, Le’s see— where did I. take my tex’? I believe I said I must keep my peepers onto th’ countryman in order ter git at th’ root of the evil, didn’t I?” ‘“* Yes, that’s what ye said.” ‘‘Then that must be what I mean, I reckon. An’ that’s what I’m goin’ ter do. Say, d’ye think ye kin run this shop fer a while alone?” ‘‘I'd choke myself if I couldn’t!” ‘An’ I'd choke ye, too. Jest ’tend right ter biz, an’ in case I don’t turn up reg’ler, you keep th’ mill a-goin’. Ill be back sooner er later, sure,” ‘* All right, pardner. I'll keep up steam.” “Bully boy! ‘Ye see, Skinny, I’m bound ter be a defective—I mean detective—if it is in th’ wood, an’ every case o’ queerness that I stum- ble onto I’m goin’ ter sift out if I kin. It won’t do ter let folks git th’ idee that William 0’ Broadway has retired from th’ field, ye know; besides I want ter win th’ conferdence 0’ Inspec- tor Br— Hello! there goes th’ countryman, an’ now I’m after him. eep things straight, Skinny, an’ if I find Tony Duke is up to any sort o’ gum-game, ye'll see me prance him round th’ circle o’ justice wi’ bells on.” CHAPTER II. JOSIAH GREEN FROM BUGVILLE CORNERS. THE countryman to whom Broadway Billy had sold the pocket-knife, was a young man of twenty-five. Josiah Green was his name, and this was his first visit to the great metropolis. Every moment, almost, some new object of wonder (to him) caused him to stand still and gaze with undisguised admiration and astonish- ment, and he was enjoying himself to the ex- treme. One of his chief delights was to stand on the corner of some busy thoroughfare and eat pea- nuts while he watched the constant tides of peo- le and vehicles flow by. *¢ Gosh!” he was wont to exclaim, ‘‘ but this is an all-fired big taown! I used tew think Bug- -ville Corners was something of a place, but it can’t begin tew hold a candle to New York. Gosh, no!” Bugville Corners was the place where Josiah hailed from. He had been invited by his uncle and cousin to come to the city and spend a few weeks with them, and had accepted. The uncle’s name was Jarius Rodman, and his son, the cousin mentioned, was named Owen, Josiah Green’s mother had been Jarius Rodman’s sis- ter. She was now cead. The Rodmans were rich, and when Kate Rodman, Josiah’s mother, married Elisha Green, a poor young farmer, her family cast her off, Owen Rodman, however, who was now a man ing none of the false about Josiah’s age S | pride of the family, Cas visited his aunt as often as he could, and he and Josiah had become the best of friends, This did not please Owen’s father at all, and | he frequently stormed about a son of his associ- ating with ‘country louts,” as he was pleased to call his sister’s husband and son, These stormings had no effect upon Owen, after he became of age, and he loved his aunt dearly. He was at her home at the time of her death, and gave her his promise that he would ever be a friend to her son, =n Owen had often wished to have Josiah visit the city, promising to pay all his expenses while there, for of course he could not invite him to hisown home. Mrs, Green, however, had_al- ways opposed it, so, until the present occasion, Josiah had never beheld “ mighty Gotham.” _ But now, as stated, he was there by invitation from not only his cousin, but from his Uncle. Jarius as well, g One evening at dinner Jarius Rodman haa suddenly looked up at Owen and said: ‘‘ Owen, do you ever hear from Kate’s boy?” The two were alone at the table, they being the only members of the family then living. Owen’s mother had died some years previously. The young man looked up quickly, not a little surprised. ‘¢-Yes,” he answered; ‘'I receive a letter from — him every few weeks.” ** And how long is it now since his mother died?” ‘About a year, I think.” Silence followed for some minutes. Presently Jarius spoke again, that I was a little too severe “Owen,” he said, ‘I have oe ae to realizo «= | a i
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‘ am sorry for my treatment of her, I suppose she loved that Elisha Green, or, at any rate, thought she did, and it amounts to about the same thing.” ‘Your sorrow comes rather late,” said the son, with a touch of sarcasm, *T know it, ay boy, I know it,” was the re- turn. ‘‘I have been unreasonably severe, but you can never understand how the family pride was cut when Kate made sucha fool of her- self,” ‘*No, I believe I never can,’ Owen. agreed. ‘* Elisha Green is an honest, well-to-do man, and Ilike him, I guess Aunt Kate never regretted marrying him.” ‘Tf she did, no one ever knew it. pride enough to keep her secret.” ‘** Well, 1 have seen her at home, and you never did. She was contented and reasonably happy, 1 am sure.” ‘* Maybe, maybe.” ‘*T tell you she was. I have spent weeks at her home, and had plenty of opportunity to judge. She loved her husband, and when a woman does that and strives to make him happy, she is bound to be happy herself. If I were to love a country girl I would do the same as Aunt Kate did.” ** You would!” ‘*T certainly would,” ‘¢ Well, well, we will let it pass. What is done isdone. What I was going to say, though: why not invite Kate’s boy tocome to the city and spend a few weeks with us?” **Do you mean it?” ‘Certainly; lam sorry for my treatment of Kate, and I must show some friendly kindness toward the boy. Write and extend an invita- tion from me for him to come.” ‘T willdoso. Anda whenyou come to know him well I am sure you will like him,” ‘*T hope I shall.” ‘“AndsodolI. Heisthe soul of honor, and when once he gets used to the city and city ways you will have no need to feel ashamed of him.” ‘* Well, send for him to come, anyhow.” *¢T will.” And so it came about that Josiah Green found himself in New York, This, the day of which our first chapter treats, was his second day there, and he was strolling about to ‘‘s:e the sights.” Owen Rodman held a responsible position in a large business house, and would not be at lib- erty until four o’clock, so Josiah was enjoying himself alone, Four o'clock, however, was now near at hand. On the previous day the young countryman had arrived in the city about noon, and fcllow- ing directions given him by Owen, had gone at once to the Rodman residence. There he had spent the remainder of the day and the evening, and this was really his first aay for sight-seeing. When four o’clock was drawing near, he started for the store where Owen wasemployed and then it was that Broadway Billy followed him. The latter noticed that Tony Duke and his companion did not do so, ‘* Well,” Billy mused, as he walked along, ‘‘ it ain’t much trouble ter shadder this feller, An elephant might do it if it tried, I reckon. And 1 wonder what’s ter come of it! Mebby it’s all a false alarm, an’ there ain’t no mystery at all. But I reckon there is, Anyhow, I’m on ther road ter find out, an’ if I don’tfind any game, 16 won’t be because I didn’t hunt,” When the young countryman reached the store, where his cousin was to meet him, he stopped and looked around while he waited for him to appear. . This store was one in which Jarius Rodman had a large interest. Billy stopped, too, and stationed himself where he could keep the young countryman in sight, In a short time Owen Rodman made his ap- pearance, F He saw Josiah at once, and hurried to where he stood and shook hands with him. Broadway Billy looked on, and as he did so, he thought: ‘‘ Now, that feller there looks ter be true blue, an’ if he is, I reckon he'll be able ter take care o’ th’ greenhorn without any o’ my pees But, that don’t remove th’ stupenjus idee ve got that there’s a consarned diffikilty a-brewin’, an’ I’m goin’ ter see th’ thing to th’end. Some o’ these days I s’pose I'll go pokin’ my nose around inter other people's business, an’ somebody will ull it ferme. Can’t help that. I was born fer t sich work, an’ I can’t help it no more than kin help bein’ hungry. I’m grim death after She had anything that looks like a muss or_a mystery. I’m bound ter be a detective, an’ if I kin win th’ conferdence o’ Inspector— Hello! there they go; an’ now, Billy, lift ther trail an’ foller.” Owen and Josiah were starting off, and ina moment the young ferret was right at their heels, On such a crowded street he had no fear of being suspected, and he got close enough to hear what they said. ‘* Say, Owen,” Josiah presently remarked, ‘TI want tew know how it is that folks kin tell that I’m from Jarsey?” ‘“Why, they no doubt judge from your ap- pearance.” **Do tell! folks?” ** Well, you see the style at the Corners is not New York style, Josiah; and then, too, your mauner and your way of talking are different from what you see and hear in the city.” “Gosh! I thought somethin’ was wrong. Now, Owen, see here: I want tew look like other folks while I’m here, an’ 1 want you tew rig me out in clothes in th’ proper style. Never mind th’ expense; I kin stand that.” “Very well, I will doso, and gladly, I will take you out after dinner and fix you up so that you won’t know yourself,” ‘“T s’pose this hat is ruther out o’ date, ain’t it?” “Well, yes, rather; and then, city men do not wear such heavy boots as yours. Don’t-be offended at my plainness,” ‘““Oh! that’s all right; you an’ me is too good friends fer that.” ‘*T hope so, certainly, You see, your lavender trowsers donot quite reach your ankles; your green coat isfar too short at the waist and in the sleeves; your turn-down collar and flaring red tie are not becoming; your blue vest is cut too low, and does not match the rest of your attire. You will have to have a new outfit, from crown to toe. AndIam glad you men- tioned it, for it would have been awkward for me to speak of it first.” ‘‘ Haw, haw, haw! I must look like a reg’lar yam, Thank ’e, Owen, fer yer outspoken opinion. Why, up at th’ Corners Iwasa reg’lar swell, and I cut out Josh Beans last Sunday night and went home with Lize Stump jest as slick as grease! Why, I thoughtI was right up in style.” Broadway Billy smiled broadly as he listened. “The trouble is, you are too stylish,” said Owen, laughing. “So it seems; an’no wonder that lad that sold me this knife knowed where I bail from,” ‘¢ Been buying a knife?” ‘Yes; look at it an’ see what it’s worth.” Owen took the knife, glanced at it, and said: “Why, this is a good knife, and made by one of the best cutlers. What did you pay for it?” ‘* Sixty cents.” “Sixty cents! Well, you have certainly hit a bargain, unless there is some flaw in the knife that I can’t see.” ‘An’ there ain’t, you kin bet!” Broadway Billy mentally exclaimed, ‘‘ Th’ secret o’ suc- cess in biz is ter deal on th’ square, an’ that is th’ way J deal, every time!” CHAPTER III. OLD NOAH RODMAN’S WILL. OLD Noah Rodman, fatber of Jarius and Kate, and consequently grandfather of Owen Rodman and Josiah Green, was crowding on toward eighty years of age. He was a millionaire, and was very eccentric in many of his ways and ideas, Of late he had been in failing health, and it was but reasonable to suppose that he was near- ing his mortal end. fe realized this, and had now made his pre- parations, so far as the disposal of his worldly wealth was concerned. About two weeks prior tothe time of our story, he one day sent for his son, Jarius, to come and see him, Of course the son obeyed, The old man occrpied a substantial house on one of the now-considered down-town streets, and lived all alone, with the exception of a few faithful, well-tried and well-paid servants. Here his father had lived before him, away back in the days of the Revolution. When Jarius Rodman made his appearance there, in response to the summons, he found his read in his library, reclining upon an invalid’s chair. ‘* Father,” Jarius said, as he advanced and took the old man’s hand, ‘‘ how do you do?" ‘Failing, Jarius, slowly but surely failing,” was the feeble reply. . ; Do I look so much onlike other i ae he Broadway Billy’s “ Diffikilty.” 3 **'You sent for me, father, and I have come to see you. I was coming this evening, any- how, but when your servant came, I set out at once,’ ‘* Yes, Isent for you, my son, because I am not long for this world now, and want to pre- pare to leave it.” ‘* You may live many years yet.” ‘* No, no, it is folly tosay so, And now, pay attention to what I have to say.” **T will do so.” ** Know, then, first of all, that I have this day burned my will.” ‘* Burned your will?” cried Jarius, in the great- est surprise, ‘* Yes, I have burned my will.” ‘* But, father, why did you do that? going to make another?” “7 am.” ** Oh! well, then, of course it is all right. No doubt you have decided to make some slight changes,” ‘*T shall make almost a complete change.” This was a startling declaration. Jarius Rodman knew that his father had willed his entire wealth to him, with the ex- ception of some trifling bequests to servants and others, and now to learn that he intended to make an almost complete change, was start- ling news indeed. ** You are surprised,” the old man went fon, “and well you may be. Butitistrue. I have sent for a lawyer, and as soon as he comes I shall make an entirely new will.” ‘May Linquire what changes you intend to make?” Jarius questioned. ‘‘Certainly; and I will tell you. I intend, as far as possible, to repair an act of injustice. Thirty years ago my daughter, your sister Kate, married Elisha Green, who was then my coachman at my summer residence in New Jer- sey. In our anger we cast her off, your mother and I, and would never own her. She went to live with her husband ona small farm he owned, and I never saw her again, All this, of course, you know, for you were as bitter against her as were we. ‘One year ago, or thereabouts, Kate died and since then I have had no peace of mind, I realized then the injustice { had done ber. Elisha Green was a sober, honest and worthy man, fairly well educated, and had I given Kate her just portion of my wealth, at that time, and forgiven her as J ought to have done, her lot would have been far brighter and she might be alive to-day. ' “That is the wrong which I intend to right as far as possible, Kate being dead, I cannot, with aclear conscience, give anything to you that was denied her. I have already given you such help as has enabled you to amass a fortune for yourself, while Kate drudged her life away on i husband’s little farm. It is true that Blisha Green is fairly well-to-do now, but Kate’s labor brought him half of it at least. ‘Having made up my mind to this course, there is but one thing for me to do; namely, to cut you off as I did Kate, and leave all my wealth that I had willed to you to be divided equally between your son and hers. And this I shall do.” Jarius Rodman was furious. To be cut off thus from the immense wealth which he had al- ways looked upon as his, was a heavy blow. {t was all that he could do to restrain a burst of passion right in his father’s presence, Vell he knew, though, that he could do noth- ing to change the old man’s mind, and after a moment’s reflection he saw that his best course would be to agree with him that he was right. But it was a bitter pill to down, If Kate Rodman’s parents had been angry with her when she married beneath her station, her brother Jarius had been even more harsh to- ward her than they. And now to find that his son, Owen, was to be placed upon an even footing with Kate’s boy, Josiah Green, ‘‘ the lout!” was too much, In bis father’s presence, thouga, he had to choke down his rising choler as best he could, and act a part, , ** Well, father,” he said, ‘‘ I cannot say that you are not right. _Nodoubt we were all a lit- tle too severe with Kate, and there is no other way in which you can right the wrong. Cer- tainly it is for you to say to whom your wealth shall go. Still—” ‘Still what?” **T was on the point of saying that it does not seem hardly right to place that country lout’s son upon an even footing with my son.” ‘gad! that is just where J am doing the act of justice!” the old man cried ‘If I had given Kate her fortune at the time of her marriage, Are you faa t ; * P 4
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_for any one to suspect m 7, Re 1} her boy would now be the equal of yours in al, respects. In fact, he might have been smarter for Kate was your superior, mentally, Jarius> and her husband was far from being a fool. Excuse my bluntness, but you know it is true.” ** Yes, no doubt; and she showed her superior refinement when she eloped one night at mid- night with that—” + AMR a att t “~ a “ - r ‘ Broadway; ae Sots, iy Aa ah 4 ‘ Billy’s CHAPTER IV, BILLY MEETS AN OLD FRIEND. “ Swret pertaters! there’s a full-grown son 0’ sunny Africa in th’ fence somewheres, an’ I know it! Didn’t I remark that there was a con- sarned diffikilty on th’ tapers, or whatever it is they callit, an’ ain’t here th’ proof of it? Great jumpin’ toads! but ’m goin’ inter this case, an’ 7 “There, there, say no more now,” the old | I'll lay th’ hull secret bare from Generosity ter man interrupted: ‘‘here comes the lawyer, I think.” Jarius Rodman’s rage scarcely knew any bounds. It was bad enough to have the im- mense fortune snatched from his own grasp, but it was worse to see half of it go to Josiah Green! here was no help for it, though; Noah Rod- man’s mind once set, there was no moving him from his fixed purpose. The caller proved to be the lawyer, and with- .in an hour the new will was made and signed, Jarius Rodman himself being one of the wit- nesses. “There,” said old Noah, witha sigh of relief, ** thank goodness that is done, and my mind is at rest. ou take the will, Mr. Monks,” to the lawyer, ‘‘ put it in a safe place, and produce it when it is required.” “Then turning to Jarius, the lawyer re- marked: ‘* You take it coolly, Mr, Rodman, for a man who has just had a fortune of two millions or more taken right out of his very grasp.” Jarius smiled. *T am perfectly satisfied,” he said, ‘‘and I agree with my father that he is right in making the change. e has told you his reasons.” “Yes, and the change is certainly a just one.” **T did not expect to see Jarius take it so calmly,” the old man remarked, “but I am hae he can see it in the true light. I believe hat J have unly done what is just and right.” ‘*T believe you have, father, and I, too, am lad the change is made. At first I could not ke kindly to the idea, but now I have changed say vg: en Jarius Rodman went home, though, ‘and had locked himself in his library, he gave full vent to his wrath. Flinging his hat down upon the floor, he clinched his hands tightly and began to pace up and down the room in a most excited manner. ‘Curses unon it!” he hissed, ‘‘to have a for- tune thus snatched away from me, and all be- cause of a sudden whim of that old dotard! And, most of all, to have half of it given to that miserable clown—lout—boor, the son of a low- born countryman! Oh! it is too much, too much,” Up and down and around he paced, pulling at his beard and tearing at his hair like a mad- an. ‘* The old fool!” he broke out again, ‘‘I won- der if he thinks I will put up with it? If he had left all to Owen, I would not care; but to see that rustic put upon an equal footing, and to see half the fortune go to him; never! I was forced to appear satisfied in the presence of the lawyers and others, but by heavens I am not !” After a few more turns up and down he broke out once more, “ Never!” he exclaimed, as he struck his fist against his hand. ‘Owen shall have all! But how am I to bring it about? It is lucky that I know Monks, the lawyer, as well as I do, or I might approach him with a liberal fee. But, Monks is not the man to enter into any sort of crooked scheme, and it is lueky I know it. No, that is not to be thought of. But, how then? Can I get the will and destroy it, I wonder? No; impossible! Monks has no doubt put it un- der lock and key by this time, How am I to do it? Icare not what the means, so long as I at- tain my end. My son must have all.” Up and down he continued to pace for some time longer, and then suddenly he stopped short and exclaimed: “ Just the thing, by heavens! It will set the ease just as [ wantit, and it will be impossible hand in the matter. Lucky I played the part 1 did when the will was being made. There will be witnesses to prove that 1 agreed with my father perfectly. The whole game is now in my hands, and I shall play to win. My son shall have all!” It was a few days after this that the conver- sation between Jarius and his son Owen, re- garding Josiah Green, took place, as recorded in the preceding chapter; and the result of that conversation was the visit of Josiah to the city. With these facts of the case before him, the reader will see that Broadway Billy was not far wrong when he declared there was “a diffikilty a-brewin’,” ee it De Relations!” Broadway Billy, this, of course. He was venturing to make use of some words however, which were a little beyond his reach. By “on th’ tapers,” he deidenitly meant ‘on the tapis;” while “from Generosity ter Rela- tions” was no doubt intended for ‘‘ from Genesis to Revelations.” But, little matter, He knew what he meant, whether he expressed himself entirely clearly or not, and that was sufficient. It was to himself that he was talking, in whispered exclamation. We left him following Owen Rodman and Josiah Green, and listening to their conversa- tion, enjoying tbe young countryman’s quaint ways immensely. While they remained on Broadway, where the crowd was great, Billy could keep close to them. Presently, though, when they turned into one of the cross-streets, he found that he would have to use more care and caution, There were po ah has few persons here, and the danger of his being seen and suspected was greatly increased. The two young men kept right on, though, and did not once look baclx. : ** Well,” Billy mused, ‘‘ them two fellers is fast friends enough, if appearances goes fer any- thing, an’ [I reckon ng do. I seldom make a mistake in that way. kin tell a tramp four blocks off, an’ ’m a terror when I set out ter go fer a feller on his appearance. How I could go fer himif he didn’t appear, I won’t stop ter study out now. I’m hot on a trail, an’ I must *tend strictly ter biz. AsI said, sez {, as some old feller in a story-book puts it, them two fellers is friends, an’ I know it. I needn’t be afeerd ter leave th’ country chap in his care, If Tony Duke shows up, though, then Ill have ter be on my muscle. ‘Oh! I know just as sure as I know anything ’”—singing—‘‘ that there’s a diffikilty a-brewin’, but where an’ how is ter be found out? I’ve found out things be- fore, an’ [reckon I’m good fer another round er two. What I want is ter wake up Inspector Brines to th’ fact that [’'m on deck, an’— Hello! they’re takin’ a car.” This was true. Owen had ° Sw a car, and he and Josiah now got aboard, Billy looked around ae There happened to be another car only a short distance behind the first. ‘* This was one of the then new ‘‘ smokers,” Waiting until it came along, Billy swung aboard, paid his fare, and was still on the trail. The first car, as is always the case when two cars are running so close together, made more stops than the second one, and so the twodid not at any time get very far apart. Broadwey Billy kept his eye fixed upon the car ahead. When the two young men got off he meant to know it, He had by this time had detective experience enough to know pretty well how to ‘‘ shadow” a person, and knew that he must see without being seen, Here, in the two cars, was one of the best pieces of luck he had lately found, _ The two young men rode quite a distance, but finally got out and turnec into one of the crouss- streets toward the west. 3 hia’ Billy’s car was then close to theirs, and it came to the sanie street the young men only a short distance away. he young detective got off, and after waiting a moment to allow the pair to get further ahead he set out after them. He had not far to go now. Presently the two eepped before one of the finest houses on the block. ; Ivstantly Billy was seated upon a stepping- stone, behind the friendly shelter of a tree, around which was a protecting box. The two young men did not enter the house at once, but stood gazing down the street in the ocher direction. Wondering what they could be looking at, Billy ventured to lean back so that he might see too, Then it was that he gave vent to the string of -exclamations which opens this chapter. What he saw was what brought them forth, 39 Diffikilty. mes Wide + ery: . at 3 There, coming up the street, was the same old gentleman whom he had seen with Tony Duke and his companion only a short time pre- viously. He was now only a short distance from the young men, and when he came up he put out his hand to the young countryman in a most friend~ ly way. This man was Jarius Rodman. ‘*My dear Josiah,” be exclaimed, ‘‘how are you enjoying yourself?” Billy was not quite near enough to hear what was said, but he could see the friendiy greeting. ‘*Oh, I am having a bully time!” was Josiah’s reply, as he grasped his uncle’s proffered hand. ‘* ] have often heard tell that New York was quite a sizable place, but I had no idea what a osh-all-fired big taown it is. Why, Trentown Jorners ain’t nowheres now. I used tew think that was somethin’ of a place, but it can’t light a taller dip tew New York. Gosh, no /” Jarius Rodman laughed heartiiy, and gave his nephew’s hand a still heartier shake, and then he led the way into the house. ‘* Yes, sir-ee,” exclaimed Billy, as he jumped up and executed a pigeon-wing on the sidewalk, or tried to, “ there’s a nigger in the fence, sure / Now when I[ saw that same old gent p’intin’ that young countryman out to Tony Duke an’ his pard, be hadn’t no sich a look o’ love an’ affec- tion, not by a high kick. In fact he looked so mightily th’ other way that I jumped right sla to th’ ’clusion that there was trouble a-brewin’. An’ now I think so more’n ever. Great mule-tails! ain’t here th’ proof of it? What more do I want? One minute th’ old gent is a-lookin’ swords, daggers, Gatlin’-guns an’ p’izen at th’ young feller, an’ pintin’ him out to one o’ th’ worst crooks in all New Damsteran, an’ th’ next minute he’s a-gazin’ upon him ina milk- an’-honey sort 0’ way, as if he was th’ one ’tic’lar bright star o’ ‘his affection. Ob! he can’t cram that down the neck o’ Broadway Billy; notany! I was born with my eye-teeth already cut, I reckon, though mom says not. She'd orter know, 4 s’pose, but I know, too. If I wasn’t born with ’em, a sprouted mighty soon after, that’s sure. Anyhow, they’re cut now, an’ I kin see jestas far through a pavin’-stone as my neighbor kin. An’ I see a diffikilty here, sure op. Ve Now, how’m I ter tackle th’ case? It seems. that’s where I allus git stuck in th’ mud. I wish ter goodness J had a full set o’ brains like other folks, It seems ter me most o’ my brains must ’a’run ter tongue. I dunno, but that is th’ way it’pears. If I had my full complaint” —complement, no doubt-—‘‘o’ brains now, I'd know jest wheré ter grab onter this bird o’ mys- tery, ter yank its tail-feathers th’ quickest. But I ain’t got ’em, so I'll have ter blunder along as best 1 kin, ut that ain’t ther way ter win fame, an’ fame ain’t a bad thing ter have, so I’m told. If Nipalopg Beenapart hadn’t had fame, he wouldn’t ’a’ been a part o’ hist’ry, I reckon. Who was he, anyhow? But, no matter, that ain’t to th’ p’int. What J want is ter show In- spector Br— Hello! jest look there! Sweet pertaters, gum-boots, hoop-skirts an’ bustles! if that ain’t a coon that I used ter know, then I'll eat my trowsers’ an’ go home barefooted!” While holding this little bit of conversation with himself, Billy was gazing at the house where the three men had entered, \ A young colored man now coming out, caused him to add his closing exclamation of surprise. He was a darky with whom Billy was well acquainted, he having once been a porter ina hotel where Billy often blackened boots. When he came out he turned toward where Billy stood. Billy had slipped behind the tree at the first sign of the opening of a door, and of course had not been seen, When the darky came along, though, he “ out suddenly beside bim and exclaimed; “ Marcellus Johnsing. by th’ livin’ fishes?” “‘H—hullo!” the darky cried, as_he started and looked around, ‘‘ who—who— Why, bless if it hain’t Broadway Billy! How d’e do, Billy? Ps powerful glad ter see ye, I is; how you gittin’ on, anyhow?” Billy shook hands with his colored friend, and then, e walked along with bim, responded: “Oh! Pm gettin’ on all bunky, Marcellus: how is it with you” ‘“‘ Fu’st rate. Billy, fu’st rate. P's got a pow’ful nice place now; big pay, lots to eat, an’ nothin’ much ter do.” ‘Happy nig! Where is this haven o’ delight you s Wy ! “He, he, he! you mean to ax where I’s livin’. I s’pose,” OO ee A lait : = rid,
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yer wool, Marcy.” ** Well, Pll tell you, in course, employ ob Mr. Noah Rodman, a rich olé man, Best place I eber had, too, sure’s you live,” ‘** Not nauch ter do, eh?” ‘* Lawd, no!” ‘** Lots to eat, ye say?” ** Piles ou piles of it, an’ th’ best.” “Big pay, too?” ‘* Fu'st-class pay.” “Then you’d orter be happy an’ grow fat. But, Marcellus, you don’t seem ter look as bright an’ hopeful as you’d orter under sich a blazin’ star o’ prosperity. What’s th’ diffikilty? Ain’t goin’ inter cornsumption, be ye?” ‘** Billy, I’s seein’ trouble, 1 is; a pow’ful sight ©’ trouble.” ** Trouble! you?” ** Yes, trouble, an’ piles on piles of it,” ‘* Why, what seems ter be th’ matter? Ain’t been gittin’ married, have ye?” ‘Billy, you an’ me was allus purty good friends, an’ Til done tell you all about it.” “ All right; fire away.” ‘* Well, de whole secret ob de matter am— Chloe Frost.” f ‘** Sweet pertaters!” CHAPTER V. BILLY PUMPS FOR POINTS. BroaDWAY BILuy had heard of Chloe Frost before, His exclamation at the mention of her name proved that. Let me explain. Billy had made the acquaintance of Marcellus Johnson when the latter was a porter in a hotel, as stated, At that time Chloe Frost, a good-looking young colored girl, was employed in the same otel as a waitress, Marcellus fell in love with her at first sight, and she did not seem to be by any means un- favorably impressed by him, _ But, sad te relate, Marcellus was bashful, and had not the courage to press bis suit, He used to confide in Broadway Billy, who generally gave him good advice to the effect that he must brace up and go right in to win, * You want to git right up on your muscle,” Billy would say, ‘‘and go for that galin a way she can’t mistake. yer knees an’ tell her ye love her, a bird in a cz ge. Tell her that ye’re willin’ ter die fer her, if necessary, but that‘ ye’d a heap ruther live—with her; an’ when ye’ve got that far th’ rest will come easy enough. Jest try it, an if she don’t chuck herself right inter yer manly arms, J miss my guess,” Marcellus would accept this friendly advice, but when opportunity would offer for him to put it to use, his heart would fail bim. He was bashful to an unusual degree, At every difficulty he would hasten at once to con- sult Billy, and the boy had a great deal of fun at his expense, But, he retained Marcellus’s friendship through it all, as be never let the darky’s secret become known. Marcellus was an honest fellow, quite shapely and good-looking, but—he was too bash- ful. Finally Chloe left the hotel, and then after a time, Marcellus went away too, and this was the first time Billy had seen him since, * Yes, dat am jest de fact,” the darky af- firmed, following Billy’s exclamation; ‘I owe all o? my troubles to dat same Chloe Frost,” Why, Marcellus, what has she been doin’ to re? ‘‘ Why, she’lows dat low-down nigger, Bob White, ter wait ’pon her, an’ don’t notice me no more.” *“Oh-ho! Bob has cut ye out, has he? Well, { expected he would do it, sooner er later, sure pop. He’s got more nerve than you have, arey, an’ kin chin like lightnin’; an’ in this hvely century o’ th’ times, old boy, th’ man with th’ most cheek an’ th’ most chin is th’ feller that is goin’ ter git thar. Times ain’t like they used ter was, my seal-brown friend, an’ brains an’ merit is below par.” ** But, she knows I love her, Billy, she can’t help knowin’ it; an’ to think she’d shake me off fer him.” ‘** Have ye ever told her ye love her?” ** Well, er—no; but Lawd! I’ve made eyes at her lots o’ times, an’ so has she at me; an’ such syes—um !” “* Ha, ha, ha!” roared Billy, unable to restrain his mirth. This was the same Marcellus. T’s now in de Jest drop, right down onto | Tell her that’! yer heart is a-flutterin’ around inside of ye like | Broadway Billy’s “ Diffikilty.” - = “Cert; that’s what I'm tryin’ ter git through | ‘‘ You kin laugh,” protested the darky, “ but J kain’t see whar de fun comes in,” *“T was thinkin’ about eyes,” Billy declared. ‘Eyes won’t do, Marcy, old sport; what is wanted is tongue, an’ lots of it. Now that is jest where Bob has got th’ bulge on ye. Eyes is all right in their place, but they’ve got ter be backed up wi’ chin.” “T know it, Billy, but I can’t heip it. Only de odder week I passed by de house whar she lives, an’ she was out by de area gate. I done stopped an’ lifted my hat bolite-like, an’ spoke to her.” ** Bully fer you!” **'Yes; an’ she seemed pow’ful glad ter see me, fer she done blushed like.” “* Blushed! Ha, ha, ha! Oh! that’s too rood! Who ever seen a cake o’ chocolate blush? t’s jest th’ same thing.” “Oh! but she did, though, Billy, shua! done blush like er—er—” ‘“* Like a rose, f’rinstance?” “Well, no, not prezackly dat way, but more like er-—er— Well, she done blush, anyhow,” ** Well, Pll take yer word fer it. Goon.” “Den I said it was a lubly evenin’, an’ she ‘lowed it was, an’ den we had quite a talk about de weather an’ odder things.” ** You really talked with her?” “*Sbua!” ‘“‘Then, what are ye howlin’ about? Why don't ye go right in with a whoop an’ win th’ chromo?” ‘‘ Dat’s jest what I’s g’ wine ter tell ye, Billy.” ‘* Well, why don’t ye then? I’m all ears, as th’ jackass said, so go ahead.” ‘* Well, when we’d talked de wedder an’ udder tings about dry, I wanted ter tell her I loved her, an’ tried ter, I said ‘Chloe, I-I—I—’ an’ dere I stuck.” ** Couldn’t git it out ez it were, eh?” “No; an’ Chloe she hung her head an’ laff, an’ jest den up comes Bob White. ‘“ My deah Miss Frost,’ he say, ‘how do you She | do? an’ what you s’pose he done do?” “Give it up.” ‘‘ Why, he done pinch her on both her plump cheeks, an’ den he chuck her under de chin, Golly! I was dat white wi’ rage—” **Oh! come, now, draw it mild.” ‘*T—T was dat inzasperated, Billy, dat T could ’a’ cut him, and cut him deep, too, if I had had | @ razor.” ** What did ye do?” : sf Wh y, I done looked at him awful black, an’ den— ‘* Ha, ha, ha! ye don’t mean ter say ye looked black at him, do ye? Most anybody would think ye might ’a’ looked at him white. But, go on; T find ’'m bound ter oe stickin’ in my lip.” ‘¢ Well, he done say *‘ Good-ebenin’, Johnsing,’ as cold as er soda-founting, an’ den he done turn his back to me an’ talked ter Chloe like er | streak ob lightnin’.” “ An’ then you kem away, eh?” ‘Yes, den I done come away, Ef I had stopped dar two minutes [ would ’a’ killed dat nigger, shua,” ‘**It looks like a hopeless case, Marcellus, hang me if it don’t,” Billy reflected, “If I could lend ye my jaw-tackle an’ some o’ my cheek, I'd do it willin’ly.” The reader may begin to think Billy had sud- denly forgotten all about his detective work; but, not so; he had an object in view when he accompanied the darky. W bat that object was will soon be revealed. ** Lawd! I only wish I did have your chin,” exclaimed Marcellus, wistfully. ‘‘ But, Billy,” he added, “what be you doin’ ’way up here? Aiv’t you polishin’ leather no mo’?” * Oh! Pm jist takin’ a little stroll fer my health,” Billy responded. ‘‘I am in business now, an’ am out collectin’. Say, though, Mar- cellus, I believe that I kin help you on a little in yer love affair, if ye’ll allow me to,” ; ‘** Golly! d’ye think so?” ac Yes ” “ Lawd! but—Pd be most pow’ful glad if you would. What kin you do?” ‘“T believe I kin cut out that Bob White, an’ give you aclear deed to th’ claim.” “Tf you could only do dat, Billy, I would do anything in de world fer you.” ‘“ Well, I won’t do it fer nothin’, you kin bet,” “Name your price, den. Golly! [ll done give you a month’s wages, an’ more too,” ‘*T don’t want money at all, my black-an’-tan friend, not a cent.” ** What den you do want, eh?” ‘**Tnfermation.” ‘*Lawd! jest ax what yer wants ter know, Billy, an’ Pll done tell ye.” ‘* Well, I don’t want ter know much, Be ye ready?” **'Yes; fire away.” ‘* Well, first-off, then, who is it lives in the house you jist kem out of?” ‘Mr. Jarius Rodman done live dar.” “Rodman! ain’t that th’ name of th’ man you work fer? Is that where you live now?” ‘*No, I don’t live dar; dis man am de son ob Noah Rodman. Old Noah he done live at No,~— G—— street.” . ‘**Oh! that’s th’ how of iv, eh? I Noah little more’n I did, but I don’t know enough yet. Who is th’ young man that went into th’ house afore you kem out? I don’t mean th’ country- man, but t’other one.” ‘* Dat am Owen Rodman, son ob Jarius,” ** An’, Owen ter that, consekently th’ grand- son o’ Noah. Jest so, An’ now, who was th’ country-lookin’ chap?” ‘His name am Josiah Green. He is a cousin to Owen, nephew to Jarius, an’ also a gran’son ob Noah.” ** Bully! o’ th’ case.” ‘*What for you want to know so much?” Marcellus questioned. ‘““What fer? Bless yer soul, Marcey, infer- mation is bread an’ meat ter me! Tallus like ter know facts, ‘Sides, ’m in biz now, an’ I must keep my eye open fer customers, If any o’ yer folks wants a knife, er a comb, era watch- key, er anything else in my line, jest send ’em ter me.” ‘“‘TLawd! has you really done got a corner stand at last?” “Bet yer life IT have! Have ye jest got it through yer wool? Me an’ Skinny is reg’lar business men now, you bet! But, what took you up ter Jarius Rodman’s house?’ ‘Old Noah done sent me. You see he am purty old, an’ I guess he won’t live long. He sent me ter tell Jarius an’ de boys ter come an’ see him dis ebenin’.” “Ah! good enough! Reckon lll be— Say, mebbe th’ old man is goin’ ter make his will, th’ reason he wants ter see ’em.” “No, he’s done made dat already. He is pow’ful rich, is Noah, an’ he’s goin’ ter leave it all to Owen aw’ th’ countryman,” ** Oh-ho!” ‘*He’s a queer old man, an’I done heard de old servants sayin’ he had first willed eberything to his son Jarius. Den he done change his mind, burned dat will, and den made a new one, leaviu’ all to de two boys,.share an’ share alike. It’pears de country boy’s mother had married ’gainst his wishes, she bein’ his daugh- ter, an’ he done fire her out without a cent. Now he’s done turned sorry, an’ she bein’ dead, he gives her share tode boy. An’ all de old servants say he’s done jest right, too. Yesee— Hello! here’s my car, though! Be ye goin’ down my way?’ ‘*T am, my huckleberry, you kin bet yer life,” Billy answered, And the pair got aboard. Now I’m gittin’ right onter th’ facts CHAPTER VI. BILLY TAKES A BIG CONTRACT. ‘““SwEET pertaters, wash-tubs, hair-pins an* molasses! ef this ain’t growin’ jest a leetle ins. terestin’,” So exclaimed Broadway Billy, in a mental whisper as it were, intended only for his own private ear, as he followed his colored friend in- to the car. ‘““That Jarius Rodman ain’t no saint, an’ Pll bet my socks on it; an’ if th’ old man Rodman —Moses, Adam, er whatever his name is—has jest been cuttin’ him off an’ willin’ bis spondulix ter Josiar Green, Il bet he don’t feel none too friendly to’rds th’ said Josiar.” Thus Billy mused, and continued: ‘““No sir-ee/ an’ th’ Josiar aforesaid had bet- ter keep his top peeper open fer rocks ahead, by ginger! Th’ look that old Jarius cast upon him whea he was a-p’intin’ him out ter Tony Duke, wasn’t no look o’ love, if appearances goes fer anything, an’ I reckon they does, I anchor my faith onto appearances, every time. An’ if there is any feller around here who kin ‘ scent th’ battle from afar’ any furder’n J kin, when there’s a consarned diffikilty a-brewin’, I'd like ter meet him. I am beginnin’ ter bave full faith in my senses 0’ sigbt an’ smell, sure pop.” There were only a few persons in the car, and Billy and Marcellus sat down near the for- ward end. : ** So that’s th’ lay o’ th’ land, is it?’ Billy re- marked, interrogatively, ‘Yes, dat’s de way it is,” Marcellus respond- ed, ‘“‘dat’s why I am here. I s’pose de old man wants to see his gran’sons, ’specially de country feller. Lawd! ain't he full 0’ hayseed, though.” “He is, fer a fact, He’s Green by name, an® ' AR i WN bs
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ke 6 green by nature too, It’s a wonder ter me why them country fellers will venture inter th’ city. “Well, le’s see. Seems ter me I had an idee in view, but what was it? Le’s see. Where Why, if Josiar hadn’t that friend o’ his ter look | did we leave off? What did I say, anyhow?” out for him, he’d git taken in an’ done for afore | he’s been here a week. here, d’ye know?” ‘“T done hearn said he come esterday.” ‘“‘He did, eh? Well, he’d better visit short an’ sweet, and strike fer home ter- morrer.” ee Why?’ “ Cause, as I said, th’ city ain’t no place fer him. A countryman in th’ city is about th’ How long has he been greenest thing | kin think of. He generally thinks he’s rip-stavin’ smart, an’ it is generally his rip-stavin’ smartness that gits him inter diffikilties, A city feller out in th’ country isn’t half as bad off as a country feller in th’ city; an’ why th’ latter will venture inter th’ jungles is somethin’ I can’t understand, unless they come jest ter show how brave an’ smart they are. This Josiar, though, isn’t as bad as some Uve seen. He does seem ter have a little hoss sense about him, greenas he is. Say, though, how did Jarius take it when th’ old man broke th’ nose o’ his expectations?’ ‘* Well, I wasn’t present in the room when de new will was made, Billy, but one ob de old servants who was, said that he took it easy-like, an’ agreed that de old man was doin’ de right thing.” ** Did, eh?” ag? ‘* Well, that sort o’ stumps me. i’d ruther you’d said he stormed around an’ raised th’ merry Old Ned fer awhile.” ‘* Why, what sort ob difference could it make to you?” ‘*Oh! none at all; only I like ter see plenty o’ red fire an’ blue lightnin’ when there’s a dra- matic p’int in the scene. If Jarius had gotright up an’ howled, f’rinstance, it would ’a’ made it more thrillin’.” ‘* Yes, I s’pose ’twould.” ‘* In course it would. Say, though, Marcel- lus, you said you went up ter tell Jarius an’ th’ two young fellers ter call down an’ see old MW thoozerlum—” ‘* He, he, he!” laughed the darky, ‘* dat ain’t his name; his name am Noah.” ‘* Well, I knowed it was one o’ them old-time fellers, anyhow. You went ter tell ’em ter call down an’ see him this evenin’, [ think ye said.” ‘Yes, dat am it.” ** An’ what word did Jarius send back?” ‘* Why, he done spoke to de young men an’ axed ’em ter g>, an’ den told me ter tell de old man dey’d be dar.” 2 “QO. Ke I jest wanted ter be sure o’ my ground. What else did they have ter say?” “* Nothin’ in ’tic’lar, fer I kem right out soon’s I got th’ reply.” ** Does Jarius seem ter like th’ young man from th’ country?” ‘* Well, yes, he seem to, Billy; but once I see him look sort o’ mad-like at him when th’ young feller wasn’t lookin’.” ‘Ha! I like ter hear that. It shows up dra- matic biz, wi’ red fire an’ so forth. It suits my ideas 0’ th’ case jest to a dot. Looked ‘mad- like,’ did he?” “ec Shua.” * All right, [1 jest remember that as I jog along. I smell that diffikilty worse’n ever, now, an’ if there is any crooked game about ter be played, they kin count me in [ll block it, if it takes all th’ buttons off. Dll—” ‘What in de world you done sayin’? de- manded Marcellus, as he listened in surprise, trying in vain to comprehend Billy’s meaning. **] was thinkin’ bout you an’ Chloe Frost,” the boy explained instantly, ‘‘ an’ I think we kin play against Bob White an’ block him out as slick as grease, Wekin give him p’ints ter start with, an’ then we kin wax th’ stuffin’ out o’ him. He won’t stand no show at all when I set my will a-goin’, you bet. Oh! Chloe is yours, Marcey, sure pop.” Marcellus grinned broadly. Billy had taken his thoughts away from the object of his devotion for the time, and he had ea epi all about the boy’s promise to assist im. ‘* Jingo!” he exclaimed, ‘‘ you did promise to help me, shua. I was so interested in tellin’ you *bout de Rodmanses, dat 1 done fergot all bout it.” ‘“¢ Well, I didn’t, ye see.” “No, dat am so. Is you doneaxin’ me ques- tions now?” ‘“* Yes, I guess so. kin go fer ye ag’in.’ “Allright. An’ now how you gwine ter help If I think of any more I me out wi my Chloe?’ dl make his | “You seems ter be pow’ful short o’ memory, | Billy; what am de matter?” ‘*' Fact is, Marcellus, I've got my head so full of a consarned diffikilty, that I can’t get my thinkin’-machine settled down ter other things. If I wasn’t so bent on puttin’ my nose inter other folks’s business, ’d no doubt have less on my mind. But, I was born jest so, an’ I can’t see as it’s my fault. D’ye think it is?” *¢ Lawd, Biliy, I knows what you is sayin’, but hang me if I knows what you is talkin’ ’bout. You done said ef I would answer some questions you would help me ter get de bulge on Bob White an’ win my Chloe. You ain’t goin’ back on what you said, is you?” ‘* Me go back on what I say? Nary a time! When Broadway Billy says he'll doa thing, he’ll do itifit takes a leg. An’ that’s what 1 say now. If there’s any sort 0’ pizen crook-game about ter be played, they jest want ter count me in ter block it. That’s th’ idee, by ginger! Ill make old— Say, I’m talkin’ *bout Chloe, ye know. I mean ter say Ill make Bob White drop her like a hot ladle o’ mush, sure pop, Sweet pertaters, yes!” “ Bully boy! An’ now tell me how you's gwine ter do it.” ‘* Well, le’s see: It seems your main diffikilty is bashfulness, with a lack o’ nerve to tell that walnut-stain damsel that ye love her, an’ want her ter marry ye; that it? ‘*Y—es, Billy, that am jest it.” ‘* Ez I said, then, ’m sorry I can’t lend ye my jaw-tackle. If I could, it seems ter me ye’d orter be able ter git over that knotty p’int in no time er tall. Bein’ as I can’t, I must do th’ next best thing.” ** An’ what am dat?” ‘* Why, Pll have ter go an’ spark th’ chromo fer ye.” ‘* Sho! you’s jokin’!” ** Am I? Well I reckon not.” ‘* You don’t mean ter say dat you will go an’ spark Chloe in my place?” ‘* Why not? If you kin think of any better lan, jest name it. You want th’ gal, an’ ye hain't got th’ nerve ter tell her so. What’s th’ result? Bob White wants her too, an’ if some- thin’ ain’t done mighty soon, accordin’ ter what you say, he’s goin’ ter git ber. Hence, you’ve got ter spark th’ gal by proxerty, er lose her. ee?” ‘‘ What am ‘ by proxerty ?’” ‘‘Sweet pertaters! I’m ’fraid ye stump me now. If I had my Webster’s Under-th’-bridge with me, I’d be able ter give ye th’ full hist’ry an’ meanin’ of every word in th’ language, from ginger ter snuff. I most allus carry it in my vest pocket, but I guess I must ’a’ left it home on th’ pianner.” ‘* He, he, he!” laughed the darky, I see you’s de same Billy you used ter be.” ‘*Reckon I am, fer a fact. But that don’t answer yer question. You want ter know what proxerty means. Well, f’rinstance, if you send me ter spark Chloe Frost fer you, you'll be sparkin’ her by proxerty. It won’t be very sat- isfyin’, I should say, but if I kin win th’ prize fer ye, I spose it'll be jest th’ same.” “Oh! Billy, if you could only do it! But, surely you’s only jokin’. Would you really have de nerve to go an’ see my Chloe?” ** Hold on, Marcey; I guess from what we've said she’s Bob’s Chloe at present, ain’t she?” ‘*Oh! hang Bob! But, do you mean jest what you says, or is you pokin’ fun at me?’ ‘* Marcellus, [ mean what I say! I vow that I speak but th’ truth! Come wheels, come wag- ons, live er die, I vow that Chloe Frost shall be thine!” *¢ An’ when will you ’tend to it?” “Jest as soon as circumstances will adjust themselves so as ter admit. I— Say, though, don’t you git out here?” ‘* Sure nuff!” the darky exclaimed, and they both left the car, After some further talk, then, in which Billy assured his colored friend over and over again that he would assist him in his love dilemma, on condition that he would always be ready to do a favor in return, they parted. ‘“*Sweet pertaters, whalebones, ham-fat an’ earpet-tacks!” Billy exclaimed, ‘‘I reckon I’ve got my hands aboué full. Not only have I got this consarned diffikilty o’ th’ Rodman fambly ter sift out, but I’ve taken th’ contract ter go an’ court a colored gal by proxerty. Lordy! if I hadn’t met an’ got away with serious diffikil- ties afore now, I reckon I wouldn’t have much hopes o’ gettin’ there this time. Wonder how Tl come out?” Broadway Billy’s “Diffikilty.” CHAPTER VII. TONY DUKE APPEARS AGAIN. BROADWAY BILLy had certainly met with a remarkable piece of good-luck, His meeting his darky friend had given him as he expressed it, ‘‘ more infermation than I could ’a’ hunted up in a week.” Now be had a fairly clear understanding of the case he had taken in hand. Not only had he learned the names of the parties concerned, but a good deal of their family history as well. ** Well,” the boy decided, half aloud after he had considered what he should do next, ‘*‘ I don’t reckon there’s much 0’ ap hang fer me ter do jest at th’ time bein’, so I guess I'll take a run down an’ see how Skinny is makin’ out. There’s no sort o’ use 0’ my goin’ back to th’ Rodman domercile at present, fer I can’t learn any more’n I know now, ’tain’t likely. I couldn’t very well go in an’ ax ’em fer p’ints, an’ ’tain’t likely they’d come out an’ give me any; an’as ter goin’ there ter gaze at th’ grim front o’ th’ house, that would be ruther tiresome, I reckon. ‘¢ No, ’tain’t no sort o’ use. After I’ve seen Skinny, though, an’ had some supper, then I'll wander up ’round where old Adamer Moses, er Jonah, er what-ever-his-name-is— Rodman lives, an’ there I'll lay fer Jarius an’ th’ young fellers ter come down. I have an idee that there won’t be much of a stir in th’ case ter-night, buia feller can’t most allus sometimes tell, an’ there’s no knowin’ what may turn up.” Having decided what to do, Billy lost no time in doing it, and twenty minutes later found him at his place of business, the corner stand. ‘‘Hello, Skinny!” he exclaimed, ‘‘ how is biz with ye?” “Bully!” his partner responded, ‘It'll beat yesterday all holler!” ** Ye don’t: say!” “Don’t I? I reckon I do, then.” ‘¢ What ye been sellin’?” ‘¢ A little o’ everything, an’ more besides. I sold th’ biggest corjen we had in th’ ranch.” “The biggest what?” *¢ Corjen.” Billy was at sea, ashe might have put it, and could not see the point. What in the world was a ‘ corjen?” After looking at his partner for a moment in silence, he said: ‘¢ Skinny, ye stump me this time, fer sure. I know it isn’t easy fer fat folks ter say hard words, words that takes a good deal o’ jaw-room an’ lots o’ wind, but after you’ve rested fer a brief second er two, I wish ye’d whisper that word ag’in. _[ wasn’t aware that we’d set up a museum o’ ‘natomy, nor yet a museum oO nat’ral hist’ry, nor nothin’ else in that line; an what ‘a carjen’ is, I can’t onderstand.” ‘“‘T said a-corjen, a-kor-gen; can’t ye ketch on?” ‘* No, hang me if I kin. —‘a corjen:’ but what is a corjen ‘¢Lord! don’t know what a-corjen means! I mean one o’ them \things, them things right there,” touching an accordion with his finger as he spoke; ‘‘ d’ye know now what it is?” ‘Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Billy, ‘‘no wonder I couldn’t grip th’ drift o’ yer meanin’! Why, Skinny, that ain’t what them things is called; they’re ‘African bag-pipes,’ er ‘coon pian- ners.’ Ha, ha, ha!” ‘“Well, it makes no diff what yow call ’em,, that’s what I sold, an’ the biggest one we had, ‘* Glad ter hear it! Who did ye sell it to?” ‘t Give er guess.” ‘* What's th’ matter wi’ ye! How d’ye s’pose I kin guess who bo’t it? Imight jest as well try ter guess who is goin’ ter be th’ next President.” ‘¢Oh, but it was somebody you know, er least- wise I think ye do.” ‘Sweet pertaters!” Billy exclaimed, “ I know piles o’ folks in this little town, an’ how d’ye s’pose I kin guess what one of ’em is taken ter moozic? “Oh! well, Vl tell ye: It was that coon that used ter be down in the hotel—Bob White.” ‘¢ Sweet pertaters!” “‘ What’s th’ matter now?” ‘Ye don’t mean ter say you sold one o’ them things ter Bob White, an’ th’ biggest one at that, do ye?” ** Sich is th’ fact.” ‘‘ Great p’izen! I wish he’d bought it at some. other shop; [ do, by ginger!” “Why? You must be crazy, ain’t ye?” ‘No; I ain’t as crazy as I look.” ““Ye’ve got somethin’ ter be thankful fer, then.” “Look out what ye’re sayin’, er I'll pitch I know what ye said 4 inter ye? I don’t know but I would anyhow, if
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{ , ; might never git yer wind back ag’in.” ** Say, though, why d’ye wish Bob had bought th’ a-corjen somewhere else?” “Cause he’s my rival in love!” cried Billy, clapping his left hand to his heart and clutching his hair with his right. *“?Cause he’s your what ?” ** My rival in love.” Oh! git out!” ‘Skinny, it’s a fact.” “It’s some o’ your foolishness, more like, I think. Every time you get th’ detective fever on you, there’s no countin’ fer what ye'll say an’ do. I s’pose ye follered that country feller till he kicked ye, an’ then ye let him go. That’s no reason why ye should come here an’ tell me sich ghost yarns, though.” “Skinny, ye wrong me; ye do indeed. I really didn’t think it of ye. Ye’ve hurt my feelin’s worse’n ye may think. I don’t keer how much fun ye make o’ my detective work, fer I begin ter realize how sorry a figger I do cut in that line; but ter think that [’'d come here an’ tell you a right up-an’-down fib— Qh! it’s too much, too much. Behold! I weep.” ‘*Oh! come off! You make me tired.” ““Can’t help it, Skinny; I’m tired myself. Ter think that I’ve been an’ took th’ contrack ter cut Bob White out from th’ ’fections o’ his best gal, an’ ter think that he’s been here to our own stand an’ bought a corjen—as you call it, no doubt ter sarynade her— It’s too bad.” ‘*Go on, Billy; mebby you know what ye’re talkin’ about, but J don’t,” ‘Tt hain’t ter be expected of ye, Skinny. I allus makes allowances fer yer heft 0’ body an’ lightness o’ brain, so I’ll have ter give ye th’ case in plainer talk an’ easy words.” **T wish ye would,” ‘¢ Well, mebbe ye remember Mr. Marcellus Johnsing, Esquire.” ** You bet!” *© An’ also Miss Chloe Frost.” ae Sure.” ‘¢ An’ likewise Bob White, Well, Mareey an’ Bob is both after Chloe, an’ Bob has th’ inside track. Marcey is as bashful as ever, an’ don’t seem ter git there worth a cent. Of th’ pair, though, he’s th’ best nigger, an’ th’ one that would make th’ best match fur th’ gal. He’s honest, an’ he ain’t lazy, an’ that’s more’n kin be said 0’ Bob. Well, I’ve jest seen Marcellus, an’ [hita bargain with him. He’s done me a favor, an’ in return fur th’ said favor 1’m ter go an’ court Chloe fer him, win her chocolate-white hand, an’ cut Bob out clean. See?” ‘*'Ye don’t mean it?” Don’t 1? Well, I reckon I do, then.” ‘Then you’ve got the gall of a female book- agent, an’, from all counts, théy’ve got lots of 46,” ‘¢ Don’t know ary female book-agent, an’ con- sekently don’t know nothin’ about’em; but I reckon I’ve got my share 0’ th’ article ye men- tion. But now ter turn ag’in’ Bob, when he’s come ter our shop ter spend his money, don’t seem jist fair.” “Yer seem ter fergit th’ time he kicked ye, don’t ye?” “No, I don’t; an’ I reckon he remembers th’ poke he got in th’ eye about two seconds later, too. But thatis an old ’count, an’ th’ books is closed.” ‘** Ar’ ye say Marcellus has done ye a favor?” ‘* Sure; an’ a big one, too.” ‘What is it?” ‘¢ Why, he’s workin’ in th’ house where th’ old granddad o’ that countryman lives, an’ I’ve got th’ hull fambly hist’ry, from B ter beeswax, al- most.” ‘“* An’ on condition that you’d help him out in his love affair, eh?” ** Jest so.” “Then you’re bound ter doit. That’s th’ way we've started biz, ye know; fair an’ square deal- in’, an’ allus live right up ter what we say. You can’t git out.” ** Oh, I don’t know’s I want ter git out of it, wery bad; only, it don’t look jest th’ square thing.” ; “Well, don’t let it worry ye. J did th’ tradin’ with Bob, ye see,” ‘Yes, that’s so.” 3 ** An’ you say Marcey is th’ best nig.” “So he is.” “Then stick ter yer bargain wi’ him. At th’ same time, ef I kin sell Bob any more a-corjens, Tudoit. Allis fair in love, war an’ biz, as I’ve heard you say often enough.” ‘Oh, youre right, Skinny; there ain’t no doubt about it. An’ now let’s come ter biz. Be you willin’ ter run this shop alone fer a day er two, an’ mebby three, while I nose around ter you wasn’t so fat. If I was ter hit ye one, ye | help Mr. Josiar Green out of a consarned diffi- kilty that I have an’ idee he’s gittin’ inter?” ‘Yes, cert; but who is Josiar Green?” ‘Why, that young country feller, ye know.” ** Oh, T see! “An’ that’s one o’ the pints ye got from Marcellus, hey? Yes, I’ll tend to th’ biz, of course, if ye kin trust me.” ‘“ An’ [ll do that. I know it'll be a little hard fer ye, you bein’ so fat, but PIldo jest th’ same fer you, some time.” “Oh! that’s allright. But can’t ye let a fel- ler onto th’ facts 0’ yer new case? Is it any- thing like yer boodle case, or th’ other big one ye had?” ‘* No, ’tain’t like ’em at all. But you go an’ git yer supper, an’ when ye come back I'll tell ye all about it, an’ then I'll be off.” Skinny agreed, and was soon gone. When he came back, Billy told him all about the affair, ani then proceeded to don a semi- disguise. Stepping into the inclosed part of their establishment, he put on his old bootblack suit, caught up his box—which he had put away for just such an emergency as this, and was ready for the street. ** How do I look, fatty?’ he asked, as he step- ped out. ‘* Look like biz,” Skinny responded. ‘An’ that’s what I want ter look like. I wouldn’t give a button fer a feller that don’t look like biz once in a while. Well, now I’m off; an’ if I don’t make old Jarius dizzy, an’ block his little game, an’ scrape th’ ’quaintance o’ Inspec- tor Br— ello! hang me if here ain’t Tony Duke! Now then fer biz.” CHAPTER VIII. “TLL BE YER WING-HEELED MERCURY!” Sure enough, Tony Duke had just come out of the hotel, which has been before mentioned as standing a short distance from where the two boys had their stand, Chancing to glance in that direction as he was taking leave of his partner, Skinny, Billy caught sight of him, Tony was now alone, and in his hand he held a piece of paper, which he was looking at as he came out. Nodding a final gool-by to Skinny, Billy slipped out of their curbstone store and saunter- ed down to where Tony was standing. Tony Duke was something of a sport and.a good deal of a rascal. He was always well-dressed in the latest style, always seemed to have plenty of money, and never seemed to have anything to do, He was a “‘sharper,” one of those fine-ap- pearing, silver-tongued rascals who are ever on the lookout to fleece some unsuspecting vic- tim who happens to come in their way. But Tony was not generally known for what he really was, He moved in a good circle of society, belonged to one of the many fashionable clubs, and the doors of many of the houses of the best families were open to him. Broadway Billy, though, knew him for his true worth, The young bootblack was a keen observer, and judging Tony by the company he some- times found him with, he had long since “ sized him up.” Moving down toward where the sharper- sport was standing, Billy attracted no atten- ser and in a few moments was quite near to im. Tony had now stepped out to the curb infront of the hotel. Billy was behind him, and near the hotel en- trance, ** Readin’ a tellygram, sure’s smoke,” the boy mentally commented. ‘‘ I know it’s a tillygram, cause he’s got th’ yaller envelope in t’other hand. Yes, an’ there it goes!” Tony at that moment had cast the crumpled envelope away from him, and now sauntered back into/the hotel, tearing the telegram into pieces and scattering the fragments away just as he entered. ‘*‘Here’s luck, an’ oceans of it!” exclaimed Billy; and glaneing after Tony to seo that he was not looking, he made haste to pick up the envelope and the other pieces, In a few moments he bad them all. A glance at the envelope showed him that it was addressed to ‘‘Mr Tony Duke,” at the hotel. Throwing that away again, he turned to the torn-up telegram it bad contained. The sport had not torn it more than twice each way,so it was not a great deal of work for Bny to match the pieces so that he could read it. In a few minutes he had accomplished the Oe Ss. =!!:..°.9..9°9°.QQ°Q°°Q°Q°Q°Q sss ss... °° as Broadway Billy’s “ Diffikilty.” 7 task, and had the telegram spread out before him on his box, where it required the service of all his fingers, as he sat on the lower step of the hotel entrance with his box between bis knees, to hold it, . The message was dated from an uptown office, and read as follows: **To Tony Duke, at the —— Hotel, City:— ‘** Not to-night, Will see you again. de Eee “That’s all kerrect,” said Billy to himself, as he stuffed the fragments of paper into a pocket and got up; “it ain’t ter be supposed it would be ter-night, whatever it is, since old Aaron— er Jacob, er Abel, er Tobias, er whatever-bis- name is—Rodman has sent fer Jarius an’ th’ boys ter come an’ see him. Whatever th’ skeem was, th’ old man has knocked it inter th’ head fer ter-night. ‘“‘T tell ye there’s a consarned diffikilty a-brewin’, an’ I know it. That was jest what [ paused ter remark when I first spotted old Jarius a-p'intin’ Josiar Green out ter Tony, an’ th’ facts that P’ve stumbled onter sence seems ter go ter prove it. Now if I had a supply o’ brains like other folks, !d know jest what ter do. Wonder if Skinny wouldn’t lend me his, if I.run back an’ ax him? Put his an’ mine both inter th’ same head, an’ it might make a sort o’ fair-to-middlin’ boy o’ one of us. Reckon he'll want ter use th’ little he’s got, though, so l’d better not botber him about it. ‘“* Well, what’s ter be did? I don’t s’pose it'll do me any good ter Jay round here to watch Tony, seein’ as he’s not goin’ ter do anything in th’ game ter-night. I guess I'll stick to my first idee, an’ meander up ter where old Isaac—er Solomon, er Abraham, er Daniel—Rocman lives, an’ lay low fer Jarius. Mebby I'll be able to pick upap’int er two, an’ mebby a whole quart er a gallon, o’ infermation. There’s a un there, if I had time ter look it up, which I paven't. How much is a quarter a gallon, any- how? Well, I.must git— Hello! sweet perta- ters!” A hand laid suddenly on Billy’s shoulder caused the first exclamation, and when he glanced quickly up and found that he was in the grasp of Tony Duke, the second one instantly followed. Billy was greatly surprised, as may be sup- posed, but it took him only a moment to recover his perfect sangfroid of manner. ‘* Want er shine, mister?’ he demanded, as he swung his box around, Yes,” Tony answered. ‘*Put up yer hoof, then,” cried Billy, as he put down his box and prepared for business in his old-time way. Tony did so, and the boy set to work. ‘¢ Sweet pertaters!” he exclaimed in his mind, “but I got collared, didn’t I! I had an idee that I was out o’ this biz fer good, It seems [ ain't, though, Ginzer! but I thought I was collared fer pickin’ up that tillygram an’ readin’ it. Thought ’d got my mammy’s best boy inter a scrape, sure, That would ’a’ been a— Hello! did you speak ter me, sir?” Tony had spoken, interrupting his medita- tions. ‘¢ Yes,” the sharper-sport owned; “I asked if your name isn’t Billy?’ “It is, fer a fact,” Billy answered, *T thought so.” ‘Yer did? What made ye think so, if ye wasn’t sure?” ‘*T have heard you called Billy.” “Then ye’d orter knowed that was th’ name I’m generally called ter dinner by.” “Yes, but I wanted to be quite sure. You boys of the street all look alike, or nearly so, to a casual observer.” ‘*Do wef Now, there’s where I don’t ’gree with ye ertall. There’s my pardner, Skinny, frinstance; he’s quite remarkable fer his fat- ness. Why, if ye was ter see him an’ me stand- in’ tergether in the sunshine, ye couldn’t obsarve but one shadder, Fact, I ’sure ye.” Tony smiled, ‘‘T will take your word for it,” hesaid, “I have never paid any attention to the matter, so do not know. I think you have blacked my boots before, have you not?” ‘¢ What gives ye that idee?” ‘“T think I can recall one or two occasions when a very talkative boy has performed the office for me.” ‘‘ Like as not,” asserted Billy, “‘but I can’t say fer sure.” **You can’t? Why, I should think you would remember a customer, in order to catch him again if chance offered,” ‘So 1 do, if he happens ter be a solid man rehire
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_ country feller OO o biz, sech as a merchant ’er a Wall-street banker; but you dude fellers all looks so much alike ter a careless obsarver, that I can’t be sure whether I’ve ever shined ye afore er not. Hist yer other trotter, now.” Billy bad got in the shot just where he wanted if. Tony was for the moment speechless, Without a word, he put bis other foot upon the boy’s box, and Billy went right on with his work. “Say,” Tony presently remarked. “Well?” from Billy. “Didn’t I see you ’tending that stand up there ov the corner only a day or two ago?’ “ Jest as like as not.” ** Have you lost the place?” ‘6 Noap.” “Then why have you returned to blacking boots?” ‘Cause, ye see me an’ my pardner owns that stand, an’ when biz ain’t as lively as we think it orter be, one of us goes out an’ does up a few shines, in order ter keep th’ books standin’ on th’ side o’ profit all the time. See?” Billy knew Tony Duke well enough, and of course knew that Tony knew him. It was no use trying to deny his identity, and the same with Tony, He knew that Billy had often be- fore given him a “shine,” and therefore must know bim, by sight, at lexst. “Say, my lad,” he presently questioned, ‘‘T suppose you know my name? Let us drop our little warfare of words, and talk business.” ‘** Shouldn’t wonder if I did,” Billy 1eplied, as he put the finishing touch to the ‘‘ shine,” ** Well, what is it?” ‘“*Pony Duke, as I’ve heard ye called.” “That is myname. And now I want to tell you something.” “ All right. let her go. jackass said.” “Well, pay attention, then. I did not stop you bere particularly to get a ‘shine,’ but be- cause I wanted to get hold of you for another reason,” ‘* Sweet pertaters!” Billy thought, ‘it 7s about that tillygram, after all!” ** Yes,” Tony went on, ‘‘ I have a little job for some wide-awake lad to do, and I want you to do it,” * Allright; I guess we kin come ter terms,” assured Billy. ‘‘' First, though,” he added,“ jest pass over th’ nickel fer that shine. It might slip our minds when we git inter other matters, an’ my terms is strickly cash on th’ spot. There, that’s it; now I’m open ter ’posals.” “You're a keen one, and no mistake,” Tony observed, with a laugh. “Oh, no, I ain’t!” Billy denied; ‘‘ my head is thicker’n a “lasses bar’l. But, what’s th’ skeem ye’ve got fer me ter go inter?” **Do you know where the Sailors’ Snug Hotel is, down on Water street?” “ve seen th’ den,” Billy admitted. ‘* Will you take a note down there for a man who is there?” “ff there’s bullion in th’ job, I’ve no objec- tions.” **T will give you half a dollar.” “T’'m yer gooseberry, sure pop!” “Very well. Just wait here a moment while I step into the reading-room and direct the note.” ‘* All right, an’ then Dll be proud ter be yer wing-heeled Mercury fer th’ time bein’.” I’m all ears, as th’ CHAPTER IX. SIGNS OF DANGER FOR BILLY. “Sweet pertaters, dispensaries, hosspittles and morgues!”’ Broadway Billy thus exclaimed as soon as Tony Duke was out of sight, and, as he uttered the words, he flung his box to its place over his shoulder, thrust his thumbs into the armholes of eel and whirled himself around on one eel, When he came to a stop he stuck out one foot, with the toe of his shoe pointing skyward; opened his hands wide, with his thumbs still under his vest near his shoulders, smiled a broad, deep smile, and again exclaimed: ‘* Sweet pertaters!” And then he continued to exclaim .or some moments, in his half-whispered way: ** Skeeters from Jersey! but this is a rich old go. If Lain’t right in th’ swim o’ luck in this ease, I never was. Why, it seems ter me my star must be right up in th’ sky now, for sure. Never had sich a streak & luck since I got well o’ the mumps. First-off I happen ter see a ; an’ sell him a knife. Then I see a old gent a-p’intin’ th’ same feller out to Tony Duke an’ one o’ his tools. Then I take up th’ | | | trail. an’ from him [I git all th’ pints as ter who is who an’ what is what, Then I tumble to th’ racket. Then comes Tony ag’in, readin’ a tilly- gram. I git a chance ter read it too. It is from ‘J. R.’—Jarius Rodman, o’ course. It says ‘not ter-night.’ th’ word along ter his man, an’ may I be tickled if he hain’t come an’ ’guged me ter do it! Ha, ha, ha! Why, it’s the best joke out! It is gist *bout equal ter his takin’ a dose 0’ p’izen, it is, fer him ter put me onto any o’ his games. Guess the sport don’t know Broadway Billy quite as well as some other fellers does. Oh! it makes me smile all over!” Billy was indeed having rare good luck, but the Juck was destined to turn the other way be- fore he became many hours older. He waited impatiently for Tony to come out again, so that he migbt be off. Presently the sharper-sport appeared, ‘¢ You say you know where that hotel is?” he again asked. ‘* Yes, if it hain’t moved, I do.” ‘¢ Well, it basn’t,” ‘¢ Then [reckon I kin find it.” ‘Allright. Now here is a letter for one Ed Kline.” ‘Ts his name writ thar’on?” se Yes,” ‘“ Allright. I only asked ’cause I might fur- git it if it wasn’t, you know.” ‘*'Yes, the envelope is directed. to go to the Sailors’ Snug Hotel—” ‘* So you said afore. I’ve got that part of it all—” ‘*Don’t interrupt me. You are to go to that hotel, and there you are to inquire for Ed Kline.” ** Jest so.” ‘¢- You are to inquire of the barkeeper.” ** Prezackly.” ** He knows Ed, and he can tell you whether he is there or not. If he isn’t there when you get there, you are to wait till he comes, Un- derstand ?” ad Yes.” ‘‘ Then you are to give him this letter.” ‘*Kerrect. An’ will there ke any answer fer me ter bring?” “ec No.” “Allright. Is that all ye’ve got ter say?” ‘* Yes, that is all. Don’t fail in this errand, and [ll perhaps give you more in the future.” “Oh, I sha’n’t fail, you bet! If it is possible ter git thar, you bet I’m goin’ ter do it. Pm right in th’ swim, an’ if I don’t block th’—I mean if I don’t find th’ hotel aforesaid, it?ll be cause it hain’t no longer there.” “ That is right. And now be off.” But Billy did not start with any degree of promptness, Instead, he held out his hand. ‘¢ What do you want?’ Tony demanded. ‘¢T want th’ slug, o’ course,” “ The what?” “Th? slung—th’ half er dollar. My terms is cash in advance, in a case o’ this kind.” ‘*Cash in advance! You must be crazy.” “7 ain’t balf as crazy as I look ter be, asT recently said ter my fat paruner; an’ he ‘lowed I had somethin’ ter be thankful fur. Mebby he’s right; I dunno.” ** Go on, and I will pay you when you return.” “Can't do it pnohow. Here’s yer letter; I guess I ain’t th’ lad ye want.” ne Ob! well, here, take the money. Don’t fail, now.’ ‘“«That’s biz,” announced Billy, as he pocketed the coin; ‘‘an’ now I’m off. Oory ‘woory, as th’ French say; which means—‘ Tl see ye later,’ I'll find Edward, me noble Duke, er I'll bu’st.” “See that you do.” Billy started off at once, and Tony watched him until be disappeared from view. Had he known Billy as well as he thought he did, that boy was the last person in the city that he would have chosen for such an errand. It was by this time almost dark, and the street-lamps were all lighted. ‘‘Now fer a little smack o’ adventure ter spice th’ case off with,” Billy muttered, as he hastened along. “I'll be able ter make th’ *quaintance o’ Ed Kline, whoever he is, an’ mebby [ll git onto more o’ th’ p’ints o’ th’ case, This is a sort 0’ improvement on: my own plan, Ireckon, Sence there’s nothin’ ter be done ter- night, I reckon Vl be on th’ right trail in this direction. Here goes, anyhow. ‘Tain’t likely Ill run inter any danger, bein’ I’m sent by Tony, but a feller can’t most allus sometimes tell, as Tremarked afore. I’ve been inter dan- Now you are ger afore, though, so I ain’t very much skeered at th’ prospeck.” Broadway Billy’s “ Diffikilty.” I fall in wi’? Marcellus Jobnsing, Esquire, eee eeeeeeeeeeeeeEEeEeE———EEEeeEeeEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eee aS Billy lost no time by the way, and_in due sea- son arrived at his destination. The hotel was one of the very lowest order, ") and was in a very unsavory part of the city. , But the boy cared nothing for that. He was too well used to the city to have any Now Tovy wants to pass | dread of dark streets, evil-reputed quarters, etc. He arrived just as a lot of balf-drunken sailors came reeling out of the saloon, or bar-room, and waiting until they had started off, he pushed upon the door and went in, ‘* Here, now,” cried a voice, almost instantly, ‘this is no place for you, younker, so git right out!” Billy looked around to find who it was had spoken, aud to learn whether be was the one ad- dressed. He soon found out. ‘‘ Here, you!” cried the barkeeper, a big, homely, red-haired fellow, as he leaned over the bar and pointed at the bootblack; ‘‘ d’ye hear me? Git! We don’t ‘low no bootblacks in ™ here!” “Sweet pertaters!” cried Billy, ‘‘ ye needn’t git. so huffy about it; I—” “* Git out, I tell ye!” “Narya git! I'm here ou biz, I am, an’l ain’t ter be bluffed out of doin’ it, you bet! Youw’re bigger’n I be, I own, an’ ye ain’t as good- lookin’; but ye’ve got no more sand an’ chin, an’ I’m bettin’ on it.” There was quite a laugh from all who heard, and the barkeeper’s face became as red as his hair. “‘T tell ye ter go /” he roared, as he made be- lieve to get over the bar. “An? I tell you I’m here on biz!” shouted sar ‘Well weat is yer biz? Come, don’t fool no time!” “if ye’d kept yer head shut till ye’d heard me orate,” said Billy, ‘‘ ye’d ’a’ knowed long ago what my bizis, You red-headed fellers allus is too mighty previous, an’ I reckon ye allus will be. There’s no teachin’ ye no manners, nohow. Now I—” ‘‘Hang ye!” the barkeeper fairly yelled, as he picked up a heavy bottle, “‘now you shut up Pee an’ state yer biz instanter, er ye won’t know tas what hit ye! D’ye hear?” y ‘¢In course [ hear! D’ye spose my ears was ’ ut on jest ter add to my beauty? I reckon f Kin hear as far around a corner as any one else, an’ not. more’n half try, either. [—” ‘* Took here! I want you ter stop yer chin- nin’ an’ com ter biz! ‘* D’ye see?” “No, I kain’t say ezI do. Ye want me ter shut up—choke myself off as it were, an’ then give ye th’ ’tic’lars o’ th’ reason why I’m here, an’ so forth. It is jest onpossibie, fer me any- how, an’ kain’t be did. Now I—” 2 ‘ See here, I want ye ter shut right up, er else come ter th’ pint. Kin ye git that inter yer thick head?” “Cert; an’ now ye’re a-talkin’ hoss sense. I’ve been a-tryin’ ever sence I kem in, ter state my biz, but ye won’t give me no sort 0’ show. ‘ I want ter find a gentleman by th’ name o’ Ed Kline. D’ye know him?” ‘“‘ Why in blazes didn’t ye say so, then?” ‘Sweet pertaters! have ye give me any show ter say so? In course ye hain’t, an’ I leave it to th’ crowd.” Again the crowd laughed, and nearly all took sides with the boy. There was one present, however, who did not, and that one, could aris have caught sight of him, would have caused him no little alarm, It was none other than ene Sharkey Dan, a rascal whom Billy had once caused to be sent to prison for a number of years (as told in a pre- vious story), and who was now, as his presence proved, an escaped convict. He had sworn eternal vengeance against a Broadway Billy, if he ever got a chance to get ‘ square with him, and here seemed to be his chance. Since his escape and return to the city, he had \ been obliged to keep out of sight, and had made $2 this hotel his headquarters~the proprietor be- ms ing an old friend. ; z ‘ Well,” the barkeeper demanded, not in any better temper, certainly, ‘‘ what is yer business hy wi’ Ed Kline?” ; Be ‘“T want ter know where he is. I want ter see : him,” ‘‘ Well, he ain’t here, so ye kin either'do yer - biz wi’ me, er else git out.” Se, “Then I’m ter stay right here till he comes,” gi’ Billy announced, and he threw himself intoa ; convenient chair, adding: ‘‘ When I set out ter oh do a thing, I most allus does it; an’ my orders fl is—ter stay right here till IT see Ed Kline.” a Just how the argument would have termin- ‘ ‘i nT + . i@
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Broadway ated, will never be known, for at that moment the door opened, and a voice demanded: ‘* Who wants ter see Ed Kline?” Billy looked up and instantly recognized the man whom he had seen in company with Tony Duke that afternoon. ‘*7 want ter see him,” he announced; ‘ be you th’ man?” ‘** Tbe, youngster!” CHAPTER X. BILLY HAS CAUSE FOR ALARM, BROADWAY Buriuty, had he known that Sharkey Dan, recently escaped from hips was in that very room, would have settled his business with Ed Kline in short order, and have made his escape as soon as possible. Not knowing it, his daring nature was sure to lead him into trouble. Dan now wore a full beard, and was disguised asa sailor; so had Billy taken notice of him, the chances were that he would not have recog- nized him. ** Then you're jest my huckleberry!” the boy cried, as he produced the note given him by Tony Duke, ‘‘ an’ here’s a note I was engaged ter bring down to ye.” Ed Kline took the note, at the same time ask- ing: “* An’ d’ye want ary answer to it?” ‘‘Reckon I do, if ye’ve got any ter send,” was the terse reply. “Allright. Jest come along o’ me inter th’ back room here, an’ Pll see what is wanted.” “Kerrect! I’m with ye,sure pop. That red- headed galoot there behind th’ bar wanted ter choke me off an’ fire me out, but I wouldn’t have it. When I set out ter do a thing, I gen’ly «lo it.” ‘* Have a kear, young feller, er Pll bounce ye out yet,” the bartender warned. ‘t Not this eve; some other eve,” was the boy’s taunting retort, as he entered the rear room be- hind the rascal to whom he had brought the note; and as Kline shut the door, the barkeeper was swearing away regardlessly. The rear room was but a small one, and con- tained only a table and a few chairs, and some empty barrels in one corner. There was one gas-jet over the table, lighted, but turned very low, This room was evidently a den for a little private gambling. : Ed Kline turned up the gas, drew up a chair and sat down, and then as he examined the envelope preparatory to opening it, he de- manded: ‘* Who was it sent this, sonny?” “ Give it up,” was Billy’sready reply. ‘‘ That is ter say, | didn’t inquire his name ner his fambly bis’ry, ner nothin’ 0’ that kind, but he wasa sport, an’ I reckon he hangs out at th’ —— hotel.” ‘‘That was Tony sure.” “Toney! Well I should say he was! he was a reg’lar blood, an’ no mistook.” “That was him, then.” ‘* Was who?” “Tony. But, let’s see what he sez.” Tearing open the envelope, Kline spread the sheet it contained out before him on the table, and began to spell it out. Billy soon saw that he was no reader of writ- Why, ing. w Can’t ye make it out?” he queried. ** Keep quiet,” Kline answered; ‘‘1’ll git onto th’ drift of it purty soon.” “ That toney feller said mebby ye wouldn’t be. able ter makeit out right off, an’ if ye wanted me to, I was ter help ye out.” ** Did he?” “Yes, I didn’t say so out there, ’cause I thought mebby ye wouldn’t like me to, See?” ‘*Good ernuff! an’ ye done jest right. But, how’m I ter know ye'’re tellin’ me th’ truth?” ‘Ob, I don’t ax ye ter believe me; go ahead an’ study it out yerself. J don’t want ter read yer blame old letter; sweet pertaters, no!” ‘‘ But, if Tony said ye was ter to do it, why in course—” ‘Well, in course he did, then. He said it didn’t mount ter much anyhow; it was only ter tell ye that th’ game was off fer ter-night with some country feller ye was ter meet, er some- thin’ like that,” ‘* Did be tell ye that?” “Sweet pertaters! d’ye take me ter be An- nernias, er whatever that old-time liar’s name was? Go on an’ figger it out; I won’t have nothin’ ter do with it.” ‘Oh, well, [ guess you're, all right! I'don’t see how ye could know anything about it if somebody hadn't told ye, an’ Tony was th’ only one as could tell ye. ere, read it out ter me.’ Billy’s * Diffikilty.” ‘No, ye’d better do it yerself, an’ then ye'll be sure ye’ve got it right.” “No, you do it. f was only a-tryin’ ye, ter seeif ye was true. Ye see a feller can’t be too keerful as ter who he trusts.” * Woll, if that’s th’ way ye put it, all right. Hand the dokkyment over.” Ktine handed the note over, and Billy, highly elated at the success of his little stratagem, read it out aloud. It ran thus:— “ Ep. KuINne: ‘The game is off for to-night. of programme. I donot know what is up, but will find out and let you know. Perhaps it will be for to- morrow night, so keep straight and be ready, ‘ Tony.” ‘“You see it is about like I told you,” Billy commented, as he handed the paper back.” ‘6 Yes, 'so ’tis.” ‘Well, any answer ter make?” ‘‘None as I know on, except that ye kin say all right, that I onderstan’ an’ will keep sober.” “All right. An’ now (ll be goin’. Tl jest whisper good-night ter that red-headed rum- dispenser out there, an’ then VI— Sweet per- taters !” The sudden interruption and the exclamation were caused by the abrupt entrance of a sailor, | as he appeared to be, who came in from the hall, closing and locking the door after him. ‘Kd Kline,” he said, instantly, “lock that other door at once, before this young spy gits out.” ‘“W-what?’ gasped Kline as he sprung to his feet; ‘a spy?” ‘* As sure’s ye’re born,” the new-comer assured, as he himself crossed over to the door leading to the bar room and secured it. “* An’ who be you ?” Kline demanded. “T am—” And the sailor stepped forward and spoke his name in a whisper. The name he gave was ‘‘ Sharkey Dan.” ‘“Th? doost ye are!” cried Kline, ‘‘ Give us yer hand! An’ ye say this lad is a spy ?” ” “He is, for a fact; he’s one o’ th’ sharpest de- tectives in all New York.” ** Git out!” **T know whot I’m talkin’ about. This is th’ boy that sent my friends Sharkey Dan an’ Big Burke up th’ river. His name is Broadway Billy.” Billy had been trying to recall where he had seen this man before, and now it came to him. This was Sharkey Dan! And then, as he recalled that rascal’s dire threats, there is no denying that he felt nota little uneasy. ‘Be ye sure 0’ that?” cried Kline, as he drew a glittering knife and grasped it firmly. * Yes, of course Lam; but that ain't th’ way ter do ter him. We don’t want no blood, ye know.” ‘* No, ye’re right; but, if he has come here as aspy, he sha’n’t leave the place alive!” “That’s a settled fact. He's my mutton, he is, an’ Pve got it infer him, He won’t do any ore cute detective work in this world, you et!” ‘Seems ter me you fellers must take me ter be a! ethaed Brines, don’t ye?” Billy demanded, coolly. ‘7 know who ye are, fast enough,” retorted Sharkey Dan, ‘an’ there’s no use o’ yer tryin’ er git out o’ my hands this time. Ye’ve got ter ie! ‘*Mebby so. I’ve heard th’ same thing said afore, but it didn’t come ter pass. I'll dis as hard as I kin, anyhow.” ‘“‘There may be some mistake, though,” said Kline. ‘‘Th’ lad has jest fetched a note to me from a pard, an’—” ** An’ no doubt has managed ter read it, too, an’ has got onter some game ye’ve got on hand,” ‘* Well, yes, he did read it fer me; but he said he was told ter do so.” ‘‘ Ha, ha, ha! a likely story that is! ‘Oh, but he gev proof of it. He had some facts that he could’nt ’a’ got no other way than from th’ feller that sent th’ note,” “Which goes ter prove that you don’t know what sort 0’ feller he is. Why, he’s jest chain- lightnin’, an’ if you,don’t want ter foller Sharkey an’ Burke, you jest lend me a hand ter fix him,” ‘‘ But you said, ‘ no blood,’ ” “ An’ so I mean; but there’s more ways ’n one ter killa cat.” ** Tn course.” ‘* Well, here, jest lay hold o’ him, an’ we'll make sure o’ him.” Sharkey advanced, but Billy grabbed up a chair and warned him to stand back, and for the moment he held the pair of rascals at bay. The next moment they both sprung forward There is a change ; | | } at once, Kline catching the chair as Billy aimed a blow with it, and Sharkey catching hold of the boy. There was a brief but useless struggle, and in a few minutes the Bootblack Bravo was securely bound and gagged. His feet, though, were left free, ‘*There!” exclaimed Sharkey, ‘‘I guess we have got you now, and you kin bet you're as good as dead! If ye know any prayers, ye’d better say ’em. It won't be no trip through th’ sewer this time, with a chance ter escape, but itll be a fate sich as ye never read of in th’ wildest romance. I swore ’d have my revenge, I did, an’ now I mean ter take it.” ‘* But,” persisted Kline ‘s’pose ye should be makin’ a mistake, Sharkey, an’—” ‘*Fush, fool! d’ye want ter git me inter quod ag’in? Ye’ve let out who I am, now, an’ th’ boy must die, no matter who he is. But there’s no mistake. Here, let’s go through his pockets, an’ mebbe we'll find somethin’ ter set yer mind easy on that pint.” It will be remembered that Billy had donned his bootblack garb, putting it on over his other suit, and the only articles in the pockets of the outer garments were his knife, a little money, | and the fragments of Tony Duke’s torn-up tele- gram, These latter were laid hold of by Sharkey at once, matched together the same as Billy had , matched them, and then he read the telegram out aloud, ‘¢ There!” Sharkey cried, ‘didn’t I tell ye he wasaspy? I know him, an’ by the great blazes he’s doomed!” Kline again clutched his knife, and looked at Billy with blazing eyes. It was a bad place for the boy to be in, CHAPTER XI. BROADWAY BILLY’S FATE, Broapway Bruxy fully realized the extreme danger of his position, Aside from Sharkey Dan’s ‘hatred and threats of vengeance against him, he now knew that Sharkey wotld not hesitate to put him out of the way in order to retain his freedom. Should Billy escape, back to prison Sharkey would go, as surely as the sun would rise and set. And this, of course, Sharkey fully under- stood, Billy was certainly in great danger. Great as the danger was, though, the daring young sleuth was as cool as ever. “Sweet pertaters!” his mind exclaimed, * but I’m in a pickle now, fer sure! This is about th’ ww’st consarned diffilalt that Dve lately been inter. Wonder how itll come out? “While there’s life there’s soap, anyhow, as th’ chimbly- sweep said when he kem out black; an’ I reckon I’m very much alive yet, anyhow, Goodness only knows how long I will ‘be, though, fer I reckon Sharkey means biz, sure pop. Well, let er rip! Treckon Dll have ter grin an’ bear it. I got pitched down inter th’ intarnal regions ounce, an’ bad ter crawl out through th’ sewers; an’ once [ had ter almost burn both hands off, ter git out of a diffikilty: so?’m ready fer al- most anything. While there’s life there’s soap, sure. Lordy! If my jaw was only free, wouldn’t I talk some!” ‘** Look’e here, boy,” cried Kline, ‘‘ where did yo git that tillygram?” Being gagged, Billy did not reply. “He can’t very well answer ye, with that handkercher stuffed inter his mouth,” said Sharkey; ‘‘ but then he don’t need ter.” ‘¢ Pd like ter know how he got it.” “Tt is plain ter be seen how he got it.” ‘* Well, how did he git it, then?” “T spose when this Tony Duke read it, he tore it up and throwed it away. Then th’ boy has gobbled it up.” ‘¢T believe ye’ve hit it, sure.” ‘*Of course T have, I don’t know what game you're up to, but you kin set it down fer a fact that this boy is onter yer racket, an’ if he could ’a’ blocked th’ game fer ye, be’d’a’ doneit. I | tell ye be’s a terror, an’ if he could live ter grow up, he’d be a rip-snorter of a detective, sure. But, he won’t live ter grow up, an’ that settles his fair prospects. “Ta, ha, ha!” ‘¢ Don’t be too mighty sartain,” thought Billy. ‘¢There’s nothin’ so onsartain as sartain things as is onsartain. Ezlong as ye don’t actually cut my throat, or go a-fishin’ fer my heart with a knife er a bullet, 7 sha’n’t give up hopes, Sweet pertaters, no!” ‘* How will ye do it?” Kline inquired, more ready to be led than to lead. “Tye got a plan, you bet! and one that won’t make no fool-job of it, neither.”
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10 ‘« What is it?” “First let me tell ye how I made my escape from up th’ river,” said Sharkey, in a still lower voice than before. ‘* What has that got ter do with it?” **Tt’s got all ter do with it, as you'll soon see, One day a gang of us was doin’ some work right clost to th’ river. There was a lot o’ empty bar’ls piled up near by. did; an’ while we was a-talkin’ a big excursion- boat kem down ti’ stream. ‘**Tf we could only git a show ter swim out an’ ketch on to some boat,’ said I. ‘** But we can’t,’ said Burke; ‘’sides, I ain’t much on th’ swim,’ ‘** Tam, then,’ said I, ‘an’ I’d like th’ chance ter try it.’ ‘“** Why don’t ye git inter one o’ these bar’ls then,’ said he, ‘an’ TJ] set it rollin’ down inter | th’ water.’ *** Will ye do it? said I. ** « Yes,’ said he, ‘I will;’ an’ so it was settled. | ‘Now there was a sort o’ out-o-sight spot right where we was workin’, an’ th’ guard | couldn’t see us only when he kem to th’ end 0’ his beat. That was about once a minute, as they had short turns, an’ once when he turned, I stripped off my stripes, hung ’em ontoa stake Id fixed fer th’ purpose, an’ slipned inter one o’ th’ bar’ls; an’ quick as a wink Burke nailed in th’ head. ‘*When th’ guard kem back he jest glanced down, seen Burke at work an’ me a-standin’ there half cut o’ sight, as he s’posed, an’ then he turned again. Sent then there was a big blast near by, an’ at that minute Burke sent five or six bar’ls a-rollin’, mine with th’ rest. I don’t know what took place there then, but I know that my bar’! went inter th’ river, ker- slop! an’ floated away; an’ that I was almost smothered, “Th’ bar’l wasn’t quite tight, an’ it let in some air, an’ some water, too; but th’ air wasn’t enough fer a cat ter live on. I stood it as long as [ could, fer I wanted ter float as far away as I could afore I took to swimmin’, an’ then I straightened cut an’ forced th’ head o’ th’ bar’] out an’ inter th’ water I was. ** An’ [ wasn’t ten feet away from a big boat, th’ same one we’d seen, an’ I dived an’ kem up alongside, caught hold o’ a brace, an’ so I float- ed all th’ way down to New York.” “Great cats!’ exclaimed Kline, ‘‘ but that was a big ’venture. *Bu* what has all that got ter do wi’ this cub?” ” ‘*Can’t yer see?” **No, I can’t.” «Then yer head must be thick. We will put him inter a bar’l, gagged an’ bound jest as he is now, nail in th’ bead, an’ then set him adrift in th’ East River.” Billy’s hair stood on end, If this were done, it seemed sure that he was doomed, ° Kline looked at Sharkey with a half-doubtful expression. ‘Ye don’t mean it!’ he gasped. ** Yes, I do, too, and I want you to help me th’ plan out.” ** But, how kin we do it?” *“* Why, easy enough! Here’s emnty bar'ls, right at hand, an’ it won’t take two minutes to put th’ boy inter one of ’em.” ‘No; but how about gettin’ th’ bar’l inter th’ river?” ‘Oh, it can be done easily enough. I tell ye th’lad has got ter die, an’ that is th’ way he’s got ter die. He'll soon find himself suffocated, an’ then he’ll float right out ter sea an’ that'll be th’ end of him. Come! no foolin’. It’s as much your affair as it is mine.” “Yes; but how be we ter git th’ bar’l out o’ here? An’ how be we ter git it down to th’ river?” “Tl tell ye. We'll take Jake inter th’ plot, an’ he kin help us out. He'll do anything when I tell him th’ danger ’m in. You kin goan’ tind a trucker, an’ Jake kin send a bar’l down ter some ship at th’ docks. See?” ‘* That’s so; an’ I guess it’ll work.” Jake was the bartender, with whom Billy had had the dispute. Sharkey Dan called him into the little back room, and as soon as he had laid his evil scheme before him, the red- headed bartender exclaimed: ‘‘ Help ye? In course J will! An’ I’m glad ter git in a cut at th’ young imp, too. Fix him up, an’ send fer yer truck, an’ Ill see that th’ bar’] is sent off all right.” The third rascal returned to the bar then, and Sharkey sent Kline at once in search of a truck. ; ‘* Yell find one somewheres down along th’ Well, we got all ready, | Broadway Billy’s ° Diffikilt ! tt... . ; | ye’d better be sayin’’em, I tell ye. urke an’ me got ter | talkin’ bout tryin’ ter cut an’ run, as we often | eee es ee ee ee ee eee ee eee ee SS eee river,” he said, ‘' an’ if ye give th’ crivera dol- lar he’ll come fast ernuff.” When Kline was gone, then Sharkey turned to Billy. ‘Now, curse ye!” he exclaimed, ‘‘ I'll pay ye up fer th’ job ve did ferme. I’m goin’ ter make sure o’ ye this time. If ye know any prayers, Ye’re a dead boy.” Procuring a hatchet, then, Sharkey prepared one of the empty barrels, making sure that it was a good tight one, and then he attempted to put Billy into it. He soon found, though, that he could not do it alone, Billy’s feet were free, and he made a desper- ate struggle. ‘Oh! well, I kin wait till Kline comes back,” Sharkey said; andholding Billy down upon the floor, he sat down upou him. In due time Kline returned with a truck, and ' Came in, ** What! ain’t he read “No; I couldn’t git him in alone,” Sharkey answered, ‘* Lend me a hand,” ‘* Hadn’t we better bind him up a little tight- er? He might kick out th’ same as you did.” “Tf he does he’ll drown, sure, with his hands tied. But, git some cords an’ we’ll fix him bet- ter.” Kline obeyed, and in a few minutes the help- less boy was bound beyond any hopes of getting free. Not only were his hands and feet tied, but his legs were drawn up and he was bound in a sitting posture. Then he was lifted up|and placed into the empty barrel, and the head of the barrel was put in its place and securely nailed, No time was lost. The barrel was rolled out to the waiting truck and lifted upon it. The barkeeper gave directions.to take the barrel toa certain freight pier, then, and the truck rattled away, Sharkey and Kline going with it. at this time Broadway Billy was beginning to feel the tortures of death by suffocation. The barrel was tight, and already he had ex- bausted its supply of air. No more horrible death can be imagined, Death by fire is almost to be preferred, and what Billy suffered cannot be described. At last, about the time the truck came to its destination, for it had not far to go, a great wheel of flame seemed to burst in his brain, and he lost all consciousness, The barrel was soon unloaded, and thes ag soon as the truck turned away, the two demons incarnate rolled it out to the end of the deserted pier, and on into the river, where it floated rapidly away with the tide. ” he demanded, CHAPTER XII. JOSIAH GREEN’S METAL. WHEN Jarius Rodman entered his house, in company with his son Owen and Josiah Green, he found Marcellus Johnson there with a mes- sage from his father. his has been made known to the reader through the conversation with the darky and Broadway Billy. As soon, almost, as Jarius had sent an an- swer, he said to Owen and Josiah: “There! I forgot to send an important tele- gram. I must go at once and attend to it.” **T will go, father,” said Owen. ‘*No, never mind, my boy,” Jarius returned; ‘it is but a short distance to the telegraph office, and Ican walk there while I would be writing it.” ‘* Why not send a servant with it?’ the young man suggested. ‘** No, no, I will go myself,” the old man de- cided, and he put on his hat. ‘* You and Josiah prepare for dinner,” he added, ‘‘ and I shall be back in a few minutes.” He started away, then, and upon arriving at the telegraph office, sent the telegram which was received by Tony Duke some time later. Having sent the telegram, Jarius returned to his house, when he joined his son and nephew at the dinner-table, He was more than attentive to Josiah. He seemed eager and anxicus to do all that he could for his ease and comfort, as though to atone for the wrong that had been done to the country-boy’s mother. Owen could not help but notice it. “Father,” be remarked, ‘I see you find Josiah is a pretty good fellow, and I think he has won your regard to an unusual degree.” “You are right,” Jarius declared. ‘*I am proud of him. There is no reason why he should not remain here with us for any length ee Ve 99 | of time, and become thoroughly acquainted with city life and ways.” “You are right!” Owen exclaimed. sure you would like him.” ‘How do you like the city, Josiah?’ the old gentleman inquired. ‘*Fu’st rate!” the young countryman replied, | as he laid a slice of bread down upon the table, spread it all over with butter, and then took a “T was capacious bite out of it. ‘It is an all-fired big taown, fer sure. An’ th’ stores an’ sich like buildin’s—whew! Why, Bugville Corners ain’t nowhere!” “Tt is indeed a big city,” Jarius commented, “‘but after you have been here a few months, you will not notice it. You will get used to everything, and will fall right into the hurry and bustle of city life unconsciously. Itis a wonderful city, too. If you want to lead » life of crime, here is yous field; and if you want to lead a life of honesty snd uprightness, no better place is to be found. The evil way is broad and gilded, but the good way is as easy to follow, and I hope you will keep to the latter course,” Good advice, certainly. But Jarius Rodman was playing a part, If harm comes to Josiah, it could be said that he had warned him to keep away from all evil during his visit. ‘**Thatis what I intend ter do, sir,” Josiah responded. ‘*My poor mother always told me to do to others as I would like others ter do to me, an’ that is the way I intend to do at all times. Of course you do th’ same, as I have no doubt.” This was a cut that Jarius felt not a little. ** Certainly. certainly,” he said rapidly, and then changed the subject, | “What time shall we start for grand- father’s?’ Owen presently questioned. ‘*Oh! say half-past' seven, or so,” was the re- ply, ‘‘ why do you ask!” ‘* Because Josiah wants me to go out with him to make some purchases. He wants to be- come thoroughly ‘citified,’ in appearance at any rate.” ‘**-You will have plenty of time for that.” ‘Very well; we will set out at once, and shall not be long gone.” * All right; and I willawait you here.” As soon as they were through with dinner, Owen and Josiah started off. Visiting one of the leading clothing houses, the young countryman made such purchases as his city cousin advised. Josiah’s natural taste ran to “loud” plaids and gay colors, but he yielded readily to Owen’s suggestions. When the shopping expedition ended, he had bought two suits of clothes; ditto of underwear; shirts, collars, cuffs, etc. Also a pair of low shoes; a white hat; a light, plain cane; and several other articles to complete his outfit, The smaller articles he carried along witi him, and the others were ordered home at once. When they were all done, the two young men returned to the house, and in a short time all the purchases were delivered. Then came the dressing-up, “Hello!” exclaimed Owen, the moment he had adjusted Josiah’s standing collar and four- in-hand tie,” here’s one thing that has got to be done, or it will spoil everything else.” ‘* What is that?’ asked Josiah, ‘* Why you must visit a barber’s and get your hair cut, and also have these whiskers shaved off clean.” Josiah wore a long, thin strip of whiskers just in front of each ear, and they were the pride of his beart. He made his first remonstrance at the thought of parting with them. “Those are all very wellfor Bugville Cor- ners,” said Owen, ‘‘ and they did very well with your other attire; but_they are out of place now. You look like a County Mayo Irishman.” This settled it. Owen took him to a near-by barber’s, and in a short time the defect was remedied. Returning again to the house, Owen guided his cousin in completing his personal embellish- ment, And when he had done, Josiah was a specimen of physical manhood to be proud of. Tall, broad-shouldered, straight, full-featured, sun- bronzed—he was perfect. “Great Scott!” exclaimed Owen, as he viewed his work with admiring eyes, ‘‘I did think of introducing you to my best girl, Josiah, but now I’ll be hanged if I will! She would never look at me again.” ‘*Oh! yeou git out!” said Josiah, as a blush mounted to his face, ——eeE——EeEeEeEe—EeEye—————————
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ty Te, It was a fact, though, that of the two Josiah was the better formed and better looking. In short, the ‘‘ manliest man,” in appearance. By this time it was after eight o’clock, and Jarius Rodman called up to know if the ** boys” were ever going to be ready. Being all ready, the young men hastened | down, and the three set out to vislt old Noah Rodman, the millionaire. On ar iving there, Marcellus Johnson opened the door to them, and at bis first glance at Josiah he could not repress an exclamation. “ Ginger!” he commented, as he watched the three enter the parlor, *‘but dat am a fine lookin’ man! If 1 had his shape, i reckon I'd take my Chloe from dat low-down nigger, shua. But, nebber mind, Broadway Billy is goin’ ter cook his goose fer him, an’ he is jest de boy ter do it, too.” This, by the way, to show that we have not forgotten Marcellus and his love dilemma. Old Noah was in the parlor ready to receive his callers. ‘*Pather,” said Jarius, as he took Josiah by the arm and led him forward, ‘‘ this is your grandson, Kate’s boy.” ‘* My stars!” the old man exclaimed, as he ad- justed his glasses and viewed Josiah from 0 to toe, * but he’s a lad to be proud of. Owen, he’s your better, and no mistake, Young man, I’m vour grandfather, and I’m proud of you! How do you do?” extending his hand. Josiah grasped his hand and answerec: ‘‘T am first-rate, sir, and I hope you are.” Toe country boy could drop his drawl and twaug, when he watched himself. He was tairly-well educated, but force of habit and of a@-sociation had left their mark upon him. ‘No, Lam not well,” said the old man: “TI am going to die.” * Gosh! [hope not, sir.” ‘* Don’t say so foolish a thing, young man. Nature only leased this poor body to me, and I must give it up when she demands it.” ‘‘T know that,” said Josiah, ‘‘ but I mean I hope you have many years to live yet.” ‘I don’t!” retorted the old man. “J don’t care a tin whistle if I die to-night. My day of usefulness is past, and I‘am prepared. Let us say no more about it. Sit down.” Josiah obeyed. Some general conversation followed, then, and presently the old grandfather turned to Josiah, and said: ‘Young man, you of course understand that IT cast your mother off when she eloped with your father, and would never recognize her?” in a questioning tone. ; “Yes, sir, I know all about it,” the young man answered. ‘*T did wrong,” the old man then owned. “I did a great wrong, and I am sorry for it.” ‘‘Rather a late day to find it out,” Josiah boldly declared. ** You are right, my boy; but now I purpose to right the wrong as nearly as may be. You know that I am rich?” ‘*T have heard so.” ee ee ‘Well, I am. I am classed a millionaire, When I die, the bulk of all I possess shall be equally divided between you and Owen,” — “T don’t want it!” cried Josiah. “I won't touch a consarned cent of it!” ** You don’t want it? You won’t touch it?” ‘No, sir! What ye couldn’t give ter my poor mother ter enjoy, J don’t want!’ The old man sunk back in his chair, pale and trembling, while Jarius and Owen could but look at Josiah with feelings of mingled surprise and pride. | For some minutes all were silent. Presently the old man sat up and spoke again: “Young man,” he said, ‘I am more than proud of you. Did you love your mother?” ‘* Certainly, sir.” a so did I. Did she teach you to dislike me ; ‘*‘No, sir. She loved you, and taught me to respect you. In her dying hour she spoke of you.” he old man sunk back with a groan, CHAPTER XIII. PLANNING A HEINOUS CRIME, JaRius RopMAN and Owen could not help roperding Josiah Green with surprise, and no little pride, as said, A There was some difference, though, in their views of his action. ; Owen, noble-spirited and honest, mentally ex- claimed—*‘ Noble sentiment.” ' Jarius, on the other hand, thought—‘t The fool!” The pride the latter felt was but a passing emotion, while with Owen it was lasting. 5; pe 63 “A / Vege “cated ey Ay. Wis hemes: ; imesh) ’ ec , : some trifling bequests. Co a Ve Broadway Billy’s “ Diffikilty.” It was the pride that we feel naturally when- ever we witness a noble deed or action or senti- ment, and the degree of that pride is to be meas- ured according to the standard of our own nobleness of heart, All waited for the old millionaire to speak. Presently he did. Sitting upright as before, he exclaimed: ‘“‘ Jarius, are you not cut to the quick? Does your conscience not smite you? It was you who held me back once when 1 was ou the point of sending for Kate to come tome. For ine, it is like a heated dagger driven into my heart. Now, when I would repair the wrong as nearly as I can, I am denied the privilege.” ‘‘ it is rather hard,” said Jarius. ‘* Young man,” asked the grandfather, ‘‘ are you set in your purpose?” ‘¢-Yes,” answered Josiah, ‘I am. money would burn my hands,” ‘* Then you will deny me the chance to do all J can to undo the wrong I havedone? Will you make my last hours the bitterest 1 have known?” Josiah was silent. ‘*You see,’ the old man went on, ‘‘I have made my will, and I shall not alter it. The money will be yours in any case, whether you you use itor not. My property is to be divided equally between you and Owen, as 1 said, except I cannot blame you for your stand in the matter. I have done alll can. If you still refuse to accept it, I cannot help it. It shall be yours anyway.” “Tf I were you 1 would accept it, It is right- fully yours, and he is certainly sorry for the past. Accept it, and let the poor old man be satisfied in bis wish.” ** But, Owen, it was denied to my—” ‘“ There, there, that is past. Take my advice and accept it. If you don’t, I shall refuse my share.” ’ ‘You don’t mean it!” **T do—I swear it.” J a turned at once to the old man, and said: ‘Grandfather, I will accept whatever you are pleased to will to me.” ° ‘Bless you, my boy; give me your hand again. Ilike you. I amsorry for the past, and Ihave done all I can to right the wrong. wish your mother were alive and here. But, what is past is past, Bless you, my boy,” ‘“*T am glad you have come to_ the right con- clusion,” said Jarius. ‘My father had willed everything to me, but lam a great deal more eee to see it go to you and Owen, I only ope you will make good use of it.” “ And that I shall do, you may be sure,” said Josiah, speaking deliberately, and_ consequently without his drawl and twang. ‘I shall use it in ways that my mother would approve were she alive.” ‘What did Owen say to you to cause you to change your mind?” asked the old man. “ T advised him to accept it,” said Owen, “ and I added that unless he did I would not accept my share.” “Toat influenced me, certainly,” Josiah owned; “but now, grandfather, I- accept it because I do not think it right to refuse, under the circumstances. I care nothing for the money itself, as the use I shall make of it shall prove.” éd Well, let us say no more about it.” The subject was changed, and all spent a inser hour together, Jarius never tiring in is kindly attentions toward his nephew. When the three finally left the house and turn- ed toward one of the busy thoroughfares, Jarius turned to the young men and said: ‘‘ Now, my boys, I have a little business to at- tend to down-town. I will leave you at the corner, and you may go home or wherever you please. Owen, I leave you to look after your cousin,” ‘“‘ All right,” assented Owen. ‘I guess we can take care of ourselves.” “*T have no doubt of it,” laughed Jarius, and so he left them. Owen and Josiah went on and out wpen one of the most populous of the many favorite evening promenades, where more than once the young countryman forgot himself and exclaimed: at Gosh! but this ¢s a ripper of a taown, sure Your But we must follow Jarius Rodman, Going to the nearesv station of the Elevated, he boarded a train and wassoon quite a distance from where be had left the young men, bistiee Be _ the train he went at once to the otel. Sauntering leisurely in, he looked around and soon found the person for whom he was search- ing. ee age Oe Se megane: ee sooty OE pe ne Ts ore? Ak " hi Y 4 ee ral Ay hy a. ie That person was ee Duke. Going up to where that ‘‘ gilded” rascal was- seated watching a game of pool, he touched him on the arm. Tony looked quickly up, and then the pair shook hauds, “Get my telegram?” Jarius asked. ‘““- Yes,” answered Tony, ‘* and have passed the word on to my men.” “You are taking good care not to let out that I have a hand in it?” “Of course lam. But this isa poor place to talk; come up to my room.” * All right.” Tony led the way and Jarius followed. When they entered the sharper sport’s room, Jarius threw himself into a chair and made him- self quite at home. He and Tony were evidently not strangers to each other. ‘‘ Well, what turned up to spoil the affair?” Tony inquired. ‘Why, the young lout was called away, a call that had:to be obeyed, and of course that knocked our plans in the head.” ‘**T thought you had backed out.” ‘© Never!” ‘¢ Then, when shall it be done?” “ Night after to-morrow night.” ‘Will it be a sure go then?” “Yes, if I can make it so.” “ And will the thing be worked as we arranged for to-night?” ‘No; I have made a slight change in the pro- gramme.” ‘“‘ What is the plan, then?” “T will tell you. First, though, let me im- press it upon your mind that there must be no mistake made in the party, and that there must be no fool-work about the job.” ‘*T will take care of that,” “ And in no case must you let out that Tama party to the plot.” “Of course not.” “Tf you do, I will tell what I know, and you know what that means.” ‘Certainly; have no fears. But, let me hear your plan.” ‘* Well, it is this: I shall in some way get Owen away for the evening. Then I shall pro- pose to that clodhopper to go out with me for a stroll. I shall offer to show him some of the shadows of Gotham, and will lead bim down —— street. Your men will lay for us some- where between —— and —— streets, and attack us. I am to be struck over the head, not very hard, mind you; and will become insensible. The lout is to be killed. Let your men make sure work of him. Theu let them rob us, and leave us there. That street is deserted after nine o’clock, and the thing can be done easily . ‘“That plan is better than the first,” declared Tony. “No suspicion can possibly fall upon ‘““You see the danger I run, though, in case your men make a mistake.” “That must be guarded against. We must have some signal arranged, so that there can be no mistake,” ‘* What shall it be?” ‘*Suppose you carry your bandkerchief in your hand, and let it be understood that the one with the handkerchief is the one not to be in- jured.” ‘That is a goodidea. Let that be thesignal.” “ All right.” ‘‘And for Heaven’s sake be sure your men understand it. You see the risk I will be run- i ay ° eon! there shall be no blunder made. I will make sure of that. Speaking of danger, though see therisk I on running. ‘I have to deal direc with the rascals, and if they are caught and confess— Ugh!” : ‘“‘ But ten thoasand dollars is no trifle, Tony,” “T know it; but I wouldn’t handle the job for a cent less.” “T am not asking you to. You shall have that sum as soon as it is earned. That is, as soon as the job is done.” ‘* Allright. And from what you have said, I take it that you will take care of your tools after the work is done.” “Well, I should say so! Their lives will be about the worst risks any insurance company can have. They will nof be with the living many moons, you may safely bet.” “And once they are removed, you will be safe to enjoy your ten thousand.” » ; “You are right. You see I have my plan be x and there is Jittle chance for the secret. to leak, $5 = ~ &* "7 ’ A, Ce ee ee Tf I had any doubts, { would be care— | ful to keep out of it.” f
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Be sure, above all things, that no blunder is made,” ‘*T will take care of that,” Vhis was Jarius Rodman in the true light. A rascal at heart, but enjoying the reputation of an honest, honored man, he was planning the murder of his nephew in order that his son might come into the whole of the old million- aire’s property. So the will read; in case of the death of one, without descendants, his share was to go to the other, Jarius took his leave of his rascally hireling, and went home, where he arrived almost at the same time that Owen and Josiah returned from their stroll. ** Well, boys,” he exclaimed cheerily, ‘‘ had a good time? And you, my dear Josiah, what do you think of Gotham by candle-light?” CHAPTER XIV, A SAILOR WHO KNOWS BILLY WELL. ‘* SwHet pertaters!” sroadway Billy alive! When the daring young detective returned to consciousness, he could not realize for some time where he was nor what bad happened. He felt half suffocated, and was so stiffened and cramped that he ached all over, He heard the sound of water, as of waves breaking against a boat, and felt a rising and falling motion that told him plainly that he was afloat, The moment he realized this, he remembered all that had taken place. Aud then it was that he mentally exclaimed— “Sweet pertaters!” But let me hasten to explain how he escaped death by suffocation, when death seemed so near. One minute more without air, and he would have been dead, When the barrel was rolled over the end of the pier, and fell into the water, the sudden shock caused the bung to fly out, and the air of course rushed in, Some water, too, splashed in, which helped to resuscitate the unfortunate lad. The barrel righted itself at once, and floated rapidly away. ‘‘This beats all th’ fixes I ever got inter, sure,” Billy’s thoughts ran. ‘It’s jest th’ wu’st consarned diffikilty I ever tackled. I see th’ bung has got bunged out o’ my life-savin’ con- sarn, If it hadn’t, I reckon ’'d been a gouer by this time. Wonder how long I’ve been here, an’ where [ve drifted to? Sweet pertaters! if I float out ter sea, it'll bea mighty serious case, an’ no mistake! Wish this consarned gag was out o’ my mouth, so’s [ could holler. Billy, ye’re in a bad fix, sure.” And so he was, The boy’s danger can be easily seen, Bound and gagged, inclosed in a barrel, and set adrift on the broad highway that leads to the ocean! What more horrible situation could he well be placed in, “Tf I git out o this,” he mused, ‘ there’ll be a mighty rattlin’ amongst th’ dry bones, I bet! There was no joke about this, it meant biz; an’ if th’ bung hadn’t bunged out an’ let th’ at- mustfeer bung in, it would ’a’ settled my biz! sure pop. Ob! I want ter git out now, th’ wu’st kind o’ way; an’ if I do— Well, there'll be moozic in th’ air, I bet! Pll go right up an’ see th’ Inspector, an’ if I don’t put him onto th’ haze o’ Sharkey Dan, it’ll be ’cause I can’t talk. But, I ain’t out yet, an’ th’ chances is I won't be, I’m afraid. Ive been inter diffikilties afore, but this One jest yanks th’ puddin’ fer stoopen- jus awfulness, I ache all— Sweet pertaters !” A passing schooner hit the barrel at that mo-~ ment, and the shock almost broke Billy’s neck. The barrel was turned end over end, and more water splashed in, As soon as it righted itself again, the young prisoner exclaimed: “Jest what I expected! Thev might ‘a’ knowed enough ter hang some signal-lamps to my craft, I should think! They might ‘a’ knowed IT’d git run inter! Now ain’t this a pleasant. state o’ things? Sweet pertaters! I should think so. It’s enough ter make a feller weep, an’ wish he’d been born a howlin’ Hotten- tot. Oh! let me git out o’ this diffikilty, an’ if Idowt make somebody sick, ’m no prophet! Ginger! I guess if [ don’t git out, itll be all up with my friend Josiar, fer sure, He's a good boy, is Josiar, an’ I wanted ter block th’ ag’in’ him, an’ fetch him out on top. I reckon it’s all up now, though. Ye’ll have ter go it | alone, Josiar; my hand ain’t worth shucks! I— Sweet pertaters / here’s another man-o'-war!” this time it was of a different sort. The vessel had sent it drifting toward the shore, aud it had struck against one of the piers, And there it lodged, at one side and right near the end of one of the longest piers on the Hast River. The boy had not been afloat very long, and had not bad time to drift far away when the vessel hit the barrel. Yor aught he knew, he might have been drift- ing about for hours. The sounds he heard, though, told him that he was not out of the river. Having lodged near the end of the pier, the | barrel was held there by the tide, and there it kept up a continual bumping. An hour passed, and Billy began to despair. His position was a most uncomfortable one, and | being bound, he ached from head to feet. But help was now near at band. There was a ship lying alongside the pier where the barrel had lodged, and a party of sailors from it came down to the end of the pier to take a swim. They had undressed aboard ship, and it being dark they could not be seen, Billy heard them, and his hopes brightened at once. Into the water they plumped, and began to dive and swim about, Presently one of them found the barrel, and pulling it out into the stream, be rolled up onto it and dived over. The others joined him at once, Billy was pow in danger of being drowned, and he began to groan as loudly as possible. That was the only thing he could do. The sailors heard him, and fell away from the | | “but it slipped, so I might as well own up. parrel in alarm. ‘* What was that?” one demanded, ‘*Shure it was a warnin’,” cried another, ‘an’ one av us is goin’ ter die.” Billy groaned his Joudest. ‘*““Warnin’ be hanged!” exclaimed another sailor, ‘it is some poor devil in this bar’]!” Billy gave two groans more. ‘** You've hit it,” he mentally exclaimed, ‘‘ an’ now fer goodness sake git me out,” The sailors all swam up to the barrel, and one demanded: ‘“* Say, is there anybody in this barrel?” Billy gave still another loud groan, and that settled it, ‘*There is somebody in here,” the one sailor declared decisively, ‘‘and we must get th’ bar’) out and open it. Th’ rest of ye go and get a rope, and Pll swim the bar’l up to th’ end of th’ jer,” Eager to solve the, mystery, the other sailors hastened to obey their lealer, who was second mate on the ship. He, the latter, swam with the barrel to the end of the pier, and in a few minutes a rope was thrown over to bim. It was but the work of a moment to make a secure double-hitch around the barrel, and then the mate clambered up to the top of the pier and assisted his companions in drawing the barrel up. This was safely done. ‘* Let’s take it right aboard, where we won't be interfered, with,” the mate advised, and four of them laying hold, the barrel was soon upon the ship’s deck.” ‘Are ye still alive, mate?” one sailor asked, speaking into the bunghole, Billy groaned in reply. “Allright; keep up your courage, and we'll have you out in a jiffy,” the sailor said, and then all hastened to don their clothes, This took but a moment. Then the mate pro- cured.an ax and knocked one end of the barrel in, and Billy was drawn out into the world of the living once more, The exclamations of the sailors were too nu- merous to admit of being repeated. They were a surprised lot of men, certainly. The mate lost no time in making the hoy free, and after pouring a few drops of brandy into his mouth, and walking him up and down the deck for two or three times, asked: ‘* Youngster, how came ye in that fix?” Billy attempted to reply, but for once his jaw refused to wag freely. Thesevere gag had made | his jaws stiff. oe After a moment, though, he got it into work- ing order, and answered: The barrel had received another bump, but | | “Why, I got intoa consarned diffikilty, and a couple o’ fellers put me in there ter kill me.” ‘* Well, they came near to doin’ it, as I should judge. Why did they want to kill ye though?” “ Why, they was rascals, an’ they was foolish enough ter think I was a spy; jest asif a kid | like me could be a detective, I tried ter con- | vince ’em o’ th’ error o’ their way, but it wasn’t no use, an’ inter th’ bar’l I had ter go.” ‘* What’s yer name, an’ where d’ye live?” ‘* My name is Weston, an’ live over on Center street. An’ I must be cuttin’ fer home, too, or my mammy will feel worried about me.” ‘* Would ye know th’ two fellers again?” one sailor asked, ‘“*You bet I would!” Billy cried, ‘‘ an’ ter- morrer I'll put th’ p’lice after’em. I’m a free- born American cit., Iam; was born right under | th’ shadder o’ th’ big eagle’s wing; an’ you bet I ain’t goin’ ter stand no sich abuse as this, an’ say nothin’! Not much! I’m on deck ag’in, as big as life; an’ if I don’t block th’ game o’— I mean if I don't have revenge, it’ll be ’cause | there’s no law in the land! ‘You hear me!” The sailors laughed heartily. “T can’t begin ter tell ye how thankful I am to ye fer snatchin’ me from an ontimely doom,” Billy continued, “ an’ ter-morrer er next day Tl come down here an’ treat ye all ter grog an’ bakky till yer eyes willdance. Sweet pertaters, yes! Only fer you fellers, I reckon I’d been about done fer by this time.” ‘* Well be glad to see ye ag’in, youngster,” said the mate, ‘‘ an’ to know how you fix out th’ rascals that served yeso bad. We'll be lay- ; in’ here fer a week or more.” ‘Pll be ’round then, sure, or my name ain’t Broadway Billy.” ** What!” cried one sailor, who was a great lover of stories, and who generally laid in a stock of reading matter at every port, ‘‘ be you Broadway Billy, th’ feller th’ story-books tell about?” Billy blushed to the roots of bis hair. ‘** T didn’t mean ter let out who I am,” he said, Yes, [’m th’ same Billy.” Instantly the sailor grasped his hand, and al- most shook his arm off. ‘* Say,” he cried, ‘‘ if ye’ll stay aboard ye kin sleep in my bunk.” “Thank .ye,” said Billy, ‘ but I can’t, I must be goin’ this minute. I'll come an’ see ye ag’in} though, an’ then [ll invite myself ter stay an’ take dinner with ye. In th’ mean time, please don’t let it leak out that ye’ve rescued a feller out o’ abar’l. It might sp’ile th’ chances 0’ ketchin’ th’ villains,” Tho sailors readily promised; Billy returned to the dock and hastened away. CHAPTER XV. BILLY SEES THE INSPECTOR. ‘‘ Sweet pertaters, kangaroos, castor-oil, an? Jarsey lightnin’!” So exclaimed Billy when he once more found himself safe out upon the street. “Of all th’ consarned diffikilties that I ever got inter,” he muttered, ‘‘ that one jest takes th’ place at mast-head! T thought 1 was dead, sure pop. Ginger! I never thought what an awful thing it is ter be smothered. A feller can’t live without air, no use tryin’; an’ only fer that bung a-flyin’ out, as I s’pose it did, I reckon I'd bs a goner now. I bet Pll make Sharkey Dan sweat fer it, though! J see me an’ Sharkey is sworn enemies now, an’ th’ longer I kin keep him in th’ jug th’ safer (ll be. If be ever gits a show at me ag’in, he’ll make sassage-meat 0’ me, sure pop, But I reckon he’ll stay up th’ river next time he goes. There'll be no more bar’l tricks fer him, an’I bope ter goodness there won't be any more fer me. DPvehad astummick full.” Billy hastened on, intending to go straight home. He paid little attention to the route he was taking; bis thoughts were too busy. Judge of his surprise and alarm, then, when he suddenly found himself opposite to the very hotel where he had only a short time previously entered in search of Ed Kline, and where, too, he bad been so foully dealt with. He stopped, and standing in a friendly shadow, looked in through the half-open door to. see if he could see his two enemies, i He was too far away, though, to be able to discern much within. He was just about to start on, when a mes- senger-boy appeared from around a near-by corner, glanced about him for a moment, and then pushed open the door of the saloon and entered. t
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- a2 gig Ws yy 3," ain “ ee ae ie er 2 Pd Se Sad Se = a _ plot. pe. - he ee pide, = + iY ey erate La Seat Sy Bae! ar ME be “! e) Broadway Billy’s “ Diffikilty.’’ ** Hello!” exclaimed Billy, ‘‘ that means some- thin’, an’ I mean ter know what. I’m mean enough fer anything, after th’ mean way they’ve sarved me.” The messenger was gone only a few moments, and then he came out and hastened away. **'No use ter foller him,” Billy reasoned, “ fer ‘Lreckon his job is done, This hotel (a gay old hotel!) don’t look like th’ sort o’ place ter have patent messenger-calls, an’ sich. Not any! I et— Sweet pertaters! I thought so!” This exclamation was brought out at the boy’s seeing Ed Kline suddenly appear and hasten away up the street. ‘*That’s th’ idee!” Billy added, as he at once started to follow. ‘*Scmebody has sent fer this rascal, an’ ten ter one it’s Tony Duke. I reckon Tm right in th’swim ag’in an’ if I don’t git nea ivll be’cause my name ain’t Eli; that’s Keeping Eline well in sight, but taking care not to be seen by him, Billy followed him through rather a winding course, and finally came out near the Post-oflice. The rascal crossed over to the front entrance, and there he was joined by Tony Duke. Then the two passed on up Broadway. The boy followed, When the evil pair came to the Park, they turned into it, and crossing over to the City Hall, seated themselves upon the steps. Billy went right on up the street, till out of range of vision, and then he hastened to get near enough to the two villains to bear what bie said, if possible. ortune favored him, Some work was being done, in one of the city buildings, and there were several barrels, a bed of mortar, and some lumber piled up near the steps at the end where the two men had taken seats, Moving carefully, Billy managed to crawl along beside the wall unseen, and was soon ly- ing flat down between the barrels and the aa Tony and Kline had looked around these very barrels before sitting down, and, finding no one there, they were, as they believed, safe, ee first words Billy caught were spoken by ine. “Well,” he asked, ‘ what. is the new pro- ‘amme?” “T will give it to bi ” Tony answered, ‘ and I want you to pay the closest attention to every word I utter.” Allright, go ahead, I reckon I kin grip it.” Tony began, and then was repeated, in every detail, the evil plot which we have seen arranged between Tony and Jarius Rodman, except that no names were given to Kline. : The reader may remember that when Jarius Rodman first pointed Josiah Green out to Tony, Kline was present. On that occasion Jarius and Tony had made no mention to Kliuve of their Kline had been present by chance more than by appointment. Broadway Billy kept his ears open to their widest, and caught every word that was spoken. When the two men were about done, a police- man came along and ordered them to ‘* move on,” and as soon as they and the officer were gone, Billy crept out from his biding-place and hastened away. ‘Sweet pertaters!” he exclaimed, as he fairly danced in his exultant excitement, ** but I have ot onto this thing in grand styie! I’ve got th’ ull skeem, now from Generosity to Relations, an’ if I don’t make somebody sick, it’l] be funny. I'm goin’ ter block this game, I am, or bu’st!” He went straight home, There his mother, the apple of whose eye was was anxiously awaiting his coming, She had been over to the corner stand to find out what was keeping him, and when Skinny informed her that Billy ‘‘ had th’ detective fever _ag’in,” and was “on ti’ scent of a mystery,” she became very much worried. _ Of course she was delighted to see the boy re- turn alive and well. y told her all about the case he had in _ hand, and the adventure he had had, to all of _ whic she listened with bated breath. Next morning Billy was up bright and early, and as soon as he swallowed his breakfast he wn. He went straight to Police Headquarters. Going in, he inquired boldly for Inspector, ‘*He is in his private office,” he was informed by an officer. ‘* Well,” said Billy, ‘I want ter see him,” *“ What for?’ was asked. ‘** That is fer him ter know.” ‘* Well, he won’t see you unless you state your business, that is sure,” the officer declared. | ‘This isa queer old ranch, then,” said Billy, in a tone of disgust, ‘‘ What is th’ use 0’ havin’ a ’spector if a citizen hain’t allowed ter see him? I’m here on biz, I am, an’ no fool biz, either.” ‘* Well, you will have to state it to me, or not at all,” ‘*That’s a purty how-d’ye-do! If that’s th’ rule, though, I reckon Pll have ter foller it, Ever hear tell o’ Sharkey Dan?” The officer was all attention at once. ‘Yes; what about him?” ‘* Rscaped from th’ jug, hain’t he?” “ Has he?” ‘*T axed you; but, no matter. I know where ae fellers kin go an’ put yer paws right onter im ‘You do!” “You bet I do!” *“ Where is he?” ** That’s th’ biz ’ve got wi’ th’ Inspector. kin see me er not, jest ez he likes,” ‘* You wait bere a moment,” “* Thought that would fetch him,” Billy mused, as the officer turned and disappeared into an inner room. He soon returned. ‘What is your name?” he asked. “William Weston, sir; Broadway Billy fer short.” ** Do you know the Inspector?” ‘* Well, most everybody has beard tell o° him Treckon. If ye mean do I enjoy th’ honor o his personal acquaintance, though, I don’t,” “So I thought. Well, he is very busy, and says whatever you have to tell, you may tell to me, Billy was disappointed. He had hoped to get a personal interview with the Inspector. He saw that be was in a place where business meant business, though, and he must either tell his story to this officer or leave it untold. As a rule, Billy did not like to confide his secrets to the police, but in this case he could not help it, if he wanted to ‘‘ block the game,” Unaided, he could do nothing. 2 ** Well, he said, ‘‘I reckoa I'll have ter state my case ter you, then, I warn ye that I’m goin’ ter put ye onto a big thing, though.” “All right, goahead, We are used to big things here.” ‘* Well, then, here goes.” Billy began, then, stated the whole case, just as it stood. The officer listened attentively, and when Billy concluded, he said: “Are you sure you have not been dreaming all this?” ‘*Sweet pertaters!” cried Billy, ‘‘ mebby ’'m asleep now! D’ye think I am?” The officer bade him wait, and again went in- to the private office. He was gone a long time, and when he return- ed it was to motion to Billy that he, too, was wanted. Billy went in, and at last stood face to face with the great idol of his youthful heart. The door closed, and Billy was severely ques- ar but needless to say he stood the ordeal nobly. ‘*My idee,” he boldly ventured, ‘is ter leave Sharkey alone till th’ other game is blocked — nipped in the bud as it were, an’ then scoop him. a ye take him fu’st, th’ others may git skart off. “Your head is level, my boy,” he was an- swered. “ Nothing shall be done in the matter until to-morrow night, when we will take care that the intended niurder is not carried out,” ~ He CHAPTER XVI. BILLY WINS A BRIDE, Bruty went away from Headquarters highly elated. At last he had made the personal acquain- tance of the great detective chief, “Sweet pertaters!” he exclaimed as he took off his cap and kicked it high in the air, catch- ing it upon his head as it came down, “but I got thar, fer sure! Couldn’t Go nothin’ else though T like ter ketch my own game after I skeer it up. This was too big a handful fer me ter grasp, so I had ter turn it over to th’ p’lice. It’s worth a pile, though, ter have made th’ quaintance 0 th’ great mogul. Whoop! now Vm happy!” Billy went home at once, pe He had no intention of visiting the corner stand again that ae There he was likely to be seen and recognized. Of course Kline had told Tony Duke all about suspecting Billy as a spy, and how Sharkey Dan and he had put him out of the way. Should Tony see him alive and well, after that, it might disturb his plans not a little, Therefore Billy resolved to keep out of sight. He remained home all day. When evening came, he went up to the resi- dence of Noah Rodman. He had not forgotten his promise to Marcellus Jobnson, and having nothing particular to do, he thought this was about his best chance to at- tend to the case, He was clad im his best, and it was a question whether any one who had seen him on the pre- vious night, in his bootblack attire, would be able to recognize him now. When he arrived at his destination, he went to the basement door and inquired for Mar- cellus, He was just in time to find him, It was the young darky’s evening off, and he was just ready to go out. Together they left the house, “Golly!” Marcellus exclaimed, “ but ’s glad ter see you, Billy, I is; pow’ful glad. Is you gwine ter keep yo’ word an’ help me ter oust dat low-down nigger?” ‘“‘T am, Marcey, fer a fact,” Billy replied. ‘*T don’t promise ter win th’ case, mind ye, but Tl do th’ best I kin fur ae At any rate, [ll give ye an idee how ter talk ter that little black- an’-tan.” “ Billy, don’t call her sich names; please don’t, She am an angel, she am, fer shua!” ‘Skuse me, Marce j T meant ter say ‘ lily-o’-. th’-valley.’ It’s all th’ same in Greek, though, so long’s 2 know whol mean, Now where does this blushing primroseive?” Marcellus informed him. '“ Dis am her ebenin’ out,” he explained, ‘ an’ no doubt we shall find her home. Anyhow, dot was whar I was gwine, an’I bad made up my mind ter ax her de great question, shua.” ‘Bully! If you’ve got yer nerve up ter that notch, th’ battle is half won. Come on, afore yer sand leaks out.” Chloe Frost, when at home, resided on Thomp- son street, Thither the two allied powers went, and were fortunate enough to find the damsel at home, They found also the rival lover—Bob White. Bob had his new accordeon with him, and was singing and playing at his best. rcellus, by the way, was dressed in the lat- est style from crown to toe, and outshone his rival in this respect. Chloe’s parents, and all her numerous brothers and sisters, were out, and she and Bob had been having the eae French flat of three rooms all to themselves, When Marcellus knocked, Chloe opened the door. “My deah Chloe,” cried Marcellus, at once, in imitation of the way he had seen Bob greet her; and he sprung forward at once and grasp- ed her hands, drew her to him and ieteabd | her squarely on the mouth, Then he tried to say more, but hfulness overcame him. He had so far outdone himself that the reaction placed ‘him hors du combat. ** Mistah Johnsing!” exclaimed Chloe, as she , drew quickly back, ‘* how dare you!” illy was watching, and even as she spoke so severely, he saw her eyes glance with pride at Marcellus’s stunning attire. — ; *‘ Johnsing,” cried Bob White, as he sprung to his feet, ‘how dare you intrude your personal presence inter dis room? I—I—I—have er notion to ingect you, sah!” “Oh! draw it mild now, Robert, old socks,” said Billy, as he stepped to the fore. ‘‘ You’d better slide out an’ take a stroli with one of yer other mashes. How’s that yaller gal wi’ th’ le?” Billy had fired a big gun, and had hit the mark. He knew Bob had another girl, and he had seen him out with her. i Chloe turned upon Bob instantly, her eyes flashing. ‘What yo’ mean?” Bob demanded, his face taking on an expression of confusion. “ Jest what_I sa. that yaller gal, th out with her th’ other evenin’,” Chloe meved away from Bob, and a little nearer to Marcellus, ba Bo! i b started to deny it, but Billy soon cut hire off. “It is no place ter argy th’ p’int,‘in th’ pre- ays s .” declared Billy, “ How is — one wi’ th’ poodle? Seen ye * ~ Lge fers ie oe eau f' * saa —— = ng) —— > cf ¢ + Ry Gis ne ee +. > 1g
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7 SS eee yt ee gy Ee 14 sence o’ this lady,” he said, ‘* an’ no real gentle- man would do it.” “* You mean ter say J am no gentleman?” Bob fiercely demanded, ‘‘[—I—l’s a notion ter hit you!” ‘** Actions talk,” said Billy, coolly. ‘I ain’t here ter quarrel, but ter see this charming lady on a matter 0’ biz. I reckon you’d better slide out an’ go play that pianner fer one o’ yer best gals.” Bob was wild with rage, and it was all he could do to resist the impulse to fly at Billy and Marcellus and attempt to put them out. Billy turned to Chloe, and said: ‘*Miss Frost, I am here by special invite o’ my esteemed friend, Marcellus, who is a friend ter be proud of. He is a gentleman, every inch! Make eyes, Marcey.) He loves you, he does, fiss Frost; he loves ye more’n tongue kin tell— “specially his tongue. Now, some old ferloserfer, tT can’t say jest who, bas said that where true love is, th’ tongue lacks words ter express it. That’s jest th’ case with Marcollus. ite loves you dearly (eyes, Marcey;) but he can’t tell his love. There’s Bob, uow, he’s all talk; which goes ter show jest how much he keers fer ye. He's got more gals ’n one ter share his ’fections Imongst.” Bob was wild, **'You lies! you low-down white trash!” he cried. ‘I lubs Miss Frost wi’ all my heart, I dogs, an’ I’s a notion ter cut—” ‘“ There, there, Robert, don’t go on so! Ye only show off yer low breedin’. No gentleman would make sich threats in th’ presence o’ a beautiful young lady. Yeonly hurt yer cause—” Bob could stand no more. Leaping up, he made a kick at Billy, and then springing forward he brought his new accordeon down upon Marcellus’s head with crushing force. And then at it the ‘two darkies went, tooth and nail. ‘* Don’t scream, Chloe,” cried Billy, “‘ but let *em have it out, an’ you'll see how Marcey will polish that low-down nigger off. He’s n. g., Bob «ain’t, an’ Marcey is worth a hundred of him. Don’t holler, but let ’em go it,” And they were going it. ‘*Go in, Marcey!” urged Billy; ‘‘ yer case *?pends on it! Now is yer time ter win th’ prize! Now is yer time ter do er die!” And ** Marcey” evidently realized it. He fought desperately. The accordeon was soon a wreck; Marcellus’s coat was soon ripped up the back; Bob’s was soon minus both sleeves; and various other dam- ages were inflicted, [t was a fight that could‘not last forever, but while it did last, the two darkies made the wool ily. Presently Marcellus gained a vantage, and promptly profited by it. “Go it!” cried Billy; ‘‘now ye’ve got him an’ now’s yer chance!” And he was right. By a quick move Marcellus threw Bob to the floor, and then sat down upon him, ‘*He’s n. g., Miss Frost,” cried Billy, ‘‘ an’ he desarves ter be pitched down-stairs.” “*'You’s right,” said Chloe, promptly. “I want you to take yo’self away from heah imme- justly, Mistah White.” ‘Will ye go?” demanded Marcellus, as he bore down heavily. r PP ar eh gasped Bob, ‘‘I—I’ll go. I—I gives ‘Git up den, an’ git,” Marcellus ordered, as he allowed his rival] to rise, Bob got up and hastened off, uttering threats, and Marcellus kicked his broken accordeon down _the stairs after him. ‘** Now,” said Billy, when the door was closed, “let us git down ter biz, As I was a-sayin’, a feller that has got an over-supply o' chin gen’ly lacks somethin’ in some other quarter, an’ most gen’ly it is heart; though in some cases—mine, t’rinstance—it is brain. Bob White lacks both, But here is Marcellus, who isn’t any talker at all, he’s all heart an’ brain. An’ th’ way he loves you (make eyes, Marcey) is astonishin’! Why, he don’t scarcely eat or sleep any more. But, like th’ old ferlosofer said, he couldn’t fell ye his love, It has been jest onpossible fer him ter git it out, an’ so he’s got me ter come an’ tell it fer him. Now, Miss Chloe, knowin’ how much he loves ye, an’ what a real gentleman an’ honest feller he is, I want ter ax ye (by proxerty, ye onderstand, fer him, not myself) if you will marry him an’ make him happy; fer life. (Mar- cey, make eyes fur all ye’re worth!)” rcelius did, and Chloe' hung her head and toyed with her apron. “Th’ court is waitin’,” said Billy. Broadway Billy’s “Diffikilty.” Chloe made no reply, but swang her shoulders. ‘* Take her hand, Marcey,” Billy ordered, and Marcellus obeyed. ‘Draw her to yer manly breast.” This was done. ** An’ now say: Chloe, will ye?” Marcellus did; and with a girlish gurgle of glee, Chloe threw herself into his arms and mur- mured ‘* Yes,” ‘* There,” cried Billy, ‘‘ I can’t help ye no fur- ther, Marcey, so Pl git.” And he left the room. CHAPTER XVII. BILLY BLOCKS THE GAME, JarIus RopmMan, Owen, and Josiah Green wefe just preparing to go out, on the evening of the following day, when there came a telegram for Owen calling him away. *Confound it!” the young man exclaimed, ‘Pm called down to my club, Josiah, and can’t join you and father.” ** Who sends for you?” asked Jarius. “Tony Duke; he is our president.” ‘** Well, if you must go I suppose you must. That need not disappoint Soslake though. I will go out with him,” ‘* Yes, I shall have to go,” said Owen, ‘‘I have a report to make that should have been sent in long ago. I suppose they want it.” ‘Well, then we will excuse him, eh, Josiah?” “Certainly,” answered Josiah, ‘though I’d like him to go with us,” The three had planned a little night excursion, for the purpose of showing Josiah the shadowed side of city life. When Owen bad gone, Jarius and the young countryman set out. Neither of them noticed that they were fol- lowed by two men, who moved along after them like veritable shadows, These were two detectives from Police Head- quarters, Jarius conducted his nephew through various parts of the great city, where vice and sin in all their various phases were to be seen. “And now,” said the uncle, ‘let us take a stroll over this way and see what we shall see. It was now quite late in the evening. The two followers were still upon their trail, like the sleuths they were. Jarius led the way over into some of the darkest and most deserted of the east-side streets, and presently he took his handkerchief from his pocket and carried it in his hand, They turned a corner, and then entered the most dismal-looking thoroughfare they had yet encountered, As silently as shadows the two detectives drew nearer to them, keeping so close to the buildings that they were almost invisible. Suddenly, and without warning, two men sprung out from the shadow of a deep doorway. one armed with a piece of lead pipe and the other with a long, glittering knife. With acry of alarm Josiah sprung back, and the one with the lead pipe struck Jarius a blow on the head, knocking him to the ground, Then both sprung at Josiah, Much to their surprise, though, two police- men sprung out from the very doorway next to where they had been in hiding, and confront- ed them with drawn revolvers, These two policemen had been in hiding there as long as the would-be murderers themselves, ‘* Hands up!” they cried, ‘‘ or die !” And, almost at the same moment, up rushed the two detectives and bandcuffed them. ‘*Gosh tew fiddles!” exclaimed Josiah, as he looked on with staring eyes; and then came an- other exclamation— ‘‘ Sweet pertaters!” and Broadway Billy jumped out and danced a break- down. “Come!” said a oke, ‘‘get up, locked.” Jarius feigned insensibility, but when one of the detectives put a pair of handcuffs on him, he came to with a rush and protested loudly against the “‘ outrage.” “°Tain’t no use, old hoss,” said Broadway Billy; ‘‘ your jigisup. We got onter yer, we did, an’ yer pesky game is blocked. Josiah, this was a put-up job y yer ’fectionate uncle.” **Gosh!” exclaimed Josiah, “if it hain’t th’ feller that sold me a knife t’other day!” ‘** Right ye are, my dear; an’ if I hadw’t sold ye that toad-sticker, an’ so made yer acquain- tance, you’d be a dead Jarseyman now, sure 1% oliceman, giving Jarius a old man, Your gamo is Gosh! ye don’t mean it!” But, Billy did mean it, and when the young countryman saw his uncle led away a prisoner, Nee eee it dawned upon him that something was wrong somewhere. The prisoners were locked up, and half an hour later Tony Duke and Skarkey Dan were sent to join them, When Owen Rodman learned the truth of the matter, he could not believe it, and he and Josiah were greatly shocked. Next morning, though, when Jarius Rod- man’s dead body was found hanging to the door of his cell, and a written confession was found, all doubt of his guilt was removed. The shock to the old grandfather was not so great as might have been expected, He seemed but little surprised, To Owen, though, it was a sad affair indeed. ‘** I knowed there was a consarned diffikilty a- brewin’,” asserted Billy, ‘*‘ when he told his story in detail to the two young men, ‘‘ an’ I made u my mind ter block th’ game er bu’st, I don’t say it ter boast, Josiar, but I reckon if I hadn’t spotted yer worthy uncle a-p’intin’ ye out ter Tony, you'd ’a’ felt a knife in yer internal regions last night, sure.” Tony Duke and his miserable tools were severely dealt with, and Sharkey Dan was sent back to prison. The latter swore vengeance and hatred undy- ing against the boy detective. Billy was rewarded, and, true to his word, he went and found the sailors who had rescued him, and treated them right royally, winning their lasting friendship, And when he told them all about his adven- tures, they listened with bated breath. ‘Great Neptune!” exclaimed the one who had read the stories about the daring young boot- black, ‘‘ but this is as good as yer other adven- tures, my lad, an’ I s’pose this one will be gettin’ into th’ story-books, too.” Billy is very reticent upon this point, but we take the liberty to assure his sailor friend that as often as the boy has any adventures worth repeating, the story shall be told. The sailors were very urgent in their invita- tion to Billy to join them in their next voyage, but Billy said he was afraid he might get sea- sick, Our story is told. Owen Rodman and Josiah Green are as firm friends as ever, and the old grandfather’s will remains unaltered, At this writing, the old man is still living, and the grandsons hope he may enjoy many years more of life. Marcellus Johnson and Chloe Frost are en- gaged now, and evidently Marcellus has ‘*‘ found his tongue.” Bob White gives him a clear field, and no doubt Marcellus will carry off the prize, Broadway Billy and his partner ‘‘ Skinny ” are getting along finely with their corner stand, and are banking some money every week, Evidently they are on the road to success, Billy often urges Skinny to join the fat men’s club, and gives him much other advice, all in playful derision of his remarkable thinness, but Skinny takes it all in good part, Billy attends night-school, and is now picking up learning quite repidly. When on the street, though, he falls back into his old bootblack patois, ‘*Nouse tryin’ ter drive any Varnin’ through my hair,” he protests, ‘“‘I ain’t got no brains, an’ I reckon some o’ that article is necessary ter start with. Leave me an’ Skinny alone, an’ I reckon we'll git along somehow. If Skinny wasn’t so fat he’d be purtier to look at, but what he lacks in beauty he makes up in hoss- sense. We’re bound ter be self-made, we are like Stewart was, f’rinstance; an’ we’re bound ter git thar if th’ traces don’t bu’st. Sweet taters, yes!” THE END. ~ Beatlle's Half-Dime Library. BY J, C. COWDRICK. 860 Silver-Mask, the Man of Mystery. 869 Shaata, the Gold King; or, For Seven Years Dead. 420 the Detiective’s Apprentice; or, A Boy Without a ame. 424 Cibuta John; or, Red-Hot T.mes at Ante Bar, 489 Sandy Sam, the Street Scout. 467 Disco Dan, the Daisy Dude. 490 Brondway Billy, the Bootblack Bravo. 506 Redlight Ralph, the Prince of the Road. 514 Broadway Bilt ‘a Boodle. 624 The Engineer Detective. A New Issue Every Tuesday. The Half-Dime Library 1 for sale by ait newsdealers, five eonts per copy, or sent by mail! on receipt of six cents each. BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.
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YA = ee ao. f / BEADLE’S* H ALF-IME* LIBRARY. Published Every Tuesday. Each Isswe Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Five Cents. No Double Numbers. —. 632 The Dead Detective’s Double. By Gerald Carlton, 633 Plucky Paul, the Boy Prospector; or, The Dead- wood Desperado’s List Innings. By J.W. Osbon. 634 Cache Car], the Chico Giant; or, The True Hearts of Rei Eye Roost. By Buckskin Sam. 635 Oklahoma Hi, the Blue-Coat Scout; or, The Boomer’s Last Battle, By P. 8. Warne. 636 Deadwood Dick, Jr. After the Queer; or, Saw- dust Sam’s Last Green Game. By Edward L. Wheeler. 637 Dick Doan, the Dock Boy Detective Harbaugb. 638 Tom Cat’s Triumph; or, Black Ivan’s Great Combine. By Lieut. A. K. Sims. 639 Sunrise Saul, the Rxpress-Train Ferret. Pierce. 640 Bareback Beth, the Centaur of the Circle. By J. C. Cowdrick, 641 Dismal Dave’s Dandy Pard; or, The Clew to Captain Claw. By William G, Patten. 642 Deadwood Dick, Jr. in Buffalo; or, 4-11-44. By Edward L. Wheeler. 643 Happy Harry's Big Find; or, The Beautiful Jezebel’s Last Stake. By P. 8. Warne. 644 The Hercules Highwayman; or, The Mounted Miners of the Overland, By Col, P. Ingraham. 645 Kit, the Pavement Sharp. By T. C. Harbaugh. 646 Cowboy Gid, the Cattls-Range Detective; or, ‘he Grand Corral at Cross-Notch. By Lieut. A, K. Sims. 647 Typewriter Tilly, the Merchant’s Ward; or, Amateur Detective dgainst Professional. By J. CO. Cowdrick. 648 Deadwood Dick Jr's. Chase Across the Conti- nent. By Edward L. Wheeler. 649 Gamin Bob, the Bowery Badger; or, Scooping a Slippery Set. By Jo Pierce. 650 Butterfly Billy, the Pony Rider Detective; or, buffalo Bill’s Boy Pard. By Col. P. Ingraham. 651 Bound-Boy Frank.the Young Amateur Detective. By Willam G. Patten. 652 Don Barr. the Plain’s Freelance. By Ol Coomes, 653 Billy Bantam, the Boy Beagle. By T. C. Har- baugh. 654 Deadwood Dick, Jr., Among the Smugglers. By Edward L. Wheeler. 655 Plucky Paul, the Boy Speculator. By C. Morris. 656 Butterfly Billy’s Man Hunt. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. 657 Warbling William, the Mountain Mountebank. By Lieut, A, K. Sims. 658 Sky-Rucket Rob, the Life-Saver; or, The Storm- Waif of Giant’s Boot. By Jo Pierce. 659 Moonlight Morgan, the * Pizenest ’’ Man of Ante Bar; or, Cibuta John’s Champion Chase. By ~ J.C. Cowdrick. 660 Deadwood Dick, Jr’s., Insurance Case; or, Corraling a Cunning Trio. By Ed. L. Wheeler, 661 Old Kit Bandy’s Deliverance; or, Banner Ben, the Wildfire of the Prairies. By Oll Coomes. 662 Butterfly Billy’s Bonanza; or, The Specter Soldier of the Overland. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. 663 Violet Vane’s Victory; or, The Jaspar City Clean Out. By William G,. Patten. 664 Cheeky Charley, the Special; or, The Life Racket By T. C. By Jo at Rattlesnake Ridze. By P. 5S, Warne. 665 Jolly Jeremiah, the Plains Detective; or, Warbling William’s Home Run. By Lieut. A. K. Sims. 666 Deadwood Dick, Jr., Back in the Mines; or, The Mountain Amazon’s Double Game. By Edward L. Wheeler, 667 Bob and Sam, the Daisy Detectives; or, The Gamin Spies’ Big Staxe. By Charles Morris. 668 The Buccaneer Midshipman; or, The Sea Rover's Ruse. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, 669 Proadway Billy Abroad; or, The Bootblack Bravo in San Francisco, By J. C. Cowdrick. 670 Norway Nels, the Big Boy Mountaineer; or, The Rival Ranchmen. By Oll Coomes, 671 Jersey Jed, the Boy Hustler; or, Shadowing the Shadower. By T. C. Harbaugh. 672 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Durango; or, ** Gathered In” By Edward L, Wheeler. 673 Ralph Renwoo, the Lightning Express Detec- tive. By A. F. Holt. 674 The Wizard Sailor; or, Red Ralph, the Rover, By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. --675 Broadway Billy’s Best: or, Beating San Fran- cisco’s Finest. By J. C, Cowdrick. ‘ 676 Signal Sam, the Lookout Scout; or, The Tussle at the Big Bonanza, By Lieut. A. K. Sims.’ 677 Chincapin Dan’s Second Trail; or. The Baffled Black Hawk’s Fate, By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 618 Deadwood Dick, Jr’s, Discovery; or, Found a Fortune. By Edward L. Wheeler. ee £79 The Sea Shadower; or, The Freebooter’s Legacy. Ingraham, \ By Colonel Prentiss Nee ee ee ee eee eee ee ee Oe eee 680 Dauntless Dan, the Freelance; or, Old Kit Bandy in Arcadia. By Oll Coomes. 681 The Pitcher Detective’s Toughest Tussle; or, Double Curve Dan’s Dead Ball. C, Jenks. 682 Wild Vulcan, the Long Range Rider. By William | G. Patten, 683 Saltpeter Sol, the New York Navigator; or, The Unseen Enemy. By Jo Pierce. 684 Deadwood Dick’s Dazzle; or, The Nemesis of Nutmeg Bonanza. By Edward L. Wheeler. 685 Happy Hugh, the Boy Musician Detective; or, Breaking the Eureka Spider’s Web. By T. CO. Harbaugh. 686 Orlando, the Ocean Free Flag; or, The Tarnished Name By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. 687 Broadway ip in Clover: or, Tke Ruction at Lake Tulare. By J. C. Cowdrick, 688 Chincapin Dan’s Home Stretch; or, The Con- spirators of No Man’s Land. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 689 Billy, the Gypsy Spy; or, Working out The Mys- tery of Two Lives. By Lieut. A. K, Sims, 690 Deadwood Dick, Jr’s, Do!lars; or, The Humming Bird of Honeysuckle. By Edward L. Wheeler. 691 Headlight Harry’s Haul; or, The Railroad Pards’ big Day. By A F. Holt. 692 The Rival Sharps: or, Redfern, the Secret Ser- vice Scout, By Col. P. Ingraham, 693 Violet and Daisy, the Posy Pards; or, The Racket at Red Hot. Ry Wm, G. Patten. 694 Spicy Jim, the Only One of His Kind; or, Head- ing Off the Crooks. By Jo Pierce. 695 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at Danger Divide; or, De- veloping the Dead Secret. By E, L. Wheeler, 696 Broadway Billy in Texas; or, Rounding Up the | Red Riyer Rustlers, By J. C, Cowdrick, 697 The Scarlet Sombrere; or, The Sharp from Texas. By Col. P. Ingraham, 698 Old Crazy, the Man Without a Head; or, Light- heart Luke’s Clean Sweep. By Jos, E. Badger, Jr. 699 Simple Sim, the Broncho Buster; or, Playing the Foo! for Big Stakes. By Lieutenant A. K. Sims, 700 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Drop;_or, The Sojourn at Satan’s Spring. By Edward L. W heeler, 701 Photograph Fred, the Camera Sharp; or, Thé Fight to the Finish, By T. C. Harbaugh. 702 Blue Jacket Bill; or, The Red Hat Ranger's Red Hot Racket. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 703 Broadway Billy’s Brand; or, The New York Delegates in Hard-up Camp. By J. C. Cowdrick, 704 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at Jack.Pot; or, Making Crooked Things S_raight. By Ed. L, Wheeler. 705 Violet Vane’s Vow: or, The Crafty Detective’s Craft. By William G. Patten. 706 Tom Thistle, the Road-House Detective; or, The Harlem Sport’s Star-Faced Pacer. By Jo rierce. 707 The Red Sombrero Rangers; or. Redfern’s Last Trail. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, | 708 Light-Heart Lute’s Legacy; or, The Lucky Lad’s Winning Hand. By Joseph E Badger, Jr. 709 The Curbstone Detective; or, Harry Hale’s Big Beat. By Charles Morris. 710 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in San Francisco; or, Kodak Kate, the Snap Shot By Edward L. Wheeler. 711 Broadway Billy at Santa Fe, or, The Pard De tectives’ Clever Deal. By J. 6. Cowdrick. 712 The Mesmerist Sport; or, The Mystified Detec- tive. By Lieut. A. K. Sims. 713 Carl, the Mad Cowboy; or, The Lariat Queen, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 714 Old Misery, the Man from Missouri; or, The Mystery of the Mountain League, By Wm. G. Patten. 715 Wide Awake Len, the Quaker City Ferret; or, Caging the Cormorants. By T. C, Harbaugh. 716 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Still Hunt; or. The Sec- ond Round in San Francisc). By Edward L, Wheeler. 717 Mosquito Jack. the Hustler Gamin; or, Move-on Mikes Grand Catch. By Jo Pierce, 718 Light-Heart Lute’s Last Trail; or. The Gold Crater’s Secret. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 719 Pawnee Bill’s Pledge; or, The Cowboy Kidnap- per. By Col Prentiss Ingraham. 720 Broadway Billy’s Full Hand; or, The Gamin De- tective’s Double Snap at Santa Fe. By J. C. Cowdrick. 721 Maverick Mose, the Arizona Detective; or, The Wizard of Urkos Pass. By Will Lisenbee. 722 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Dominoes; or, The Rival Camps of the Northern Border. By Edward L. Wheeler. 723 Silverblade, the Shoshone; or, The Border Beagie’s Secret Mission. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 724 Violet Vane's Vengernce; or, The Wipe-Out at White Water. By William G, Patten. 725 Daring Dick, Pa*nee Bill’s Pard; or, The Red Cavalry Raid. By Cot. Prentiss Ingraham, ° By Georgo | 726 Dennis Duff, the Brown Sport’s Kid; or, The | Covers and Blinds of Gotham, By Jo Pierce. 727 Headlight Harry’s Siren; or, Mad Madge, the Outlay Queen. By Gol. A. F. Hoit. ' 728 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Disguise; or, Ivan, the Man of Iron. By Edward L, Wheeler, | 729 Silverblade, the Half-Blood; or, the Border Beagle at Bay. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 730 Violet Vane’s Verdict; or, The Crooked Game at Coffin Civy. By Wm, G. Patten. | 731 Ruth Redmond, the Girl Shadower: or, The Rivals in Buckskin, By Col, Prentiss Ingraham. 782 Daisy Dell. the Pavement Detective: or, Trap- ‘ping Big Game. By T. C. Harbaugh. | 733 'Toltec Tom, the Mad Prospector: or, Unearthing the Cavern League. By Lieut. A, K, Sims, 734 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Doublo Deal; or, The All- Around Surprise. By Edward L. Wheeler, 735 Broadway Billy’s Business; or, Waking Up Wind Canyon Camp, By J. 0, Cowdrick. 736 Larry, the Thoroughbred; or, Beaten on Every side. By George C. Jenks. 737 Buck Taylor, the Comanche’s Captive; or, Buck- skin Sam to the Rescue. By Col, Prentiss Ingra- ham, 938 Broadway Billy’s Curious Case; or, The mye terious Disappearance at Manitou Springs, By | J.C, Cowdrick. 739 Silverblade, the Hostile; or, The Border Beagle’s | Ghost Trail. By Jos. E, Badger, Jr. | 740 Deadwood Dick, Jr’s, Deathwatch; or, The Moving Mystery at Mexican Mustang. By Ed- ward L, Wheeler. 741 Violet Vane, the Ventriloquist Vidoeq; or, Sport against Sport. By Wm, G. Patten, 742 Billy Winks, the Bell-Boy Detective; or, Break- ing the Meshes of the Golden Coil. By T. C. Harbaugh. | 743 Buck Taylor’s Boys; or The Red Riders of the | Rio Grande. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. | 744 Dick of the Docks, the Night-Watch; or, The | Water Waif’s Dead Past. By Jo Pierce, 745 Kansas Jim, the Cross-Cut, Detective; or, The Raiders of the Range. By Lieut. A. K, Sims. 746 Quiet Jack, the Secret Service Spe; or, Too } uch for Red Leary. By Dan Dunning, (of the Sceeret Service Corps). | 747 Deadwood Dick, Jr. s, Double:; or, The Tandem | Team of Teddy’s Tailings. By Ed, L. Wheeler, 748 Silverblade, the Friendly; or, the Border Beagle’s : Boy Pard. By Joseph KE, Badger, Jr. 749 Dashio » Charlie, the Young Scalp-Taker; or, The Kentucky Tenderfoot’s First Trail. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. , %B0 Violet Vane, the Vanquished; or, The Life Strug- | gle at Shanty City. By Wm. G, Patten, 51 Gold-Dust Dan, the Trail Patrol. By John W. Osbon, | %52 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Deathblow; or, The Little Circus at Last Chance. By Edward L, Wheeler. 758 Broadway Billy iv Denver; or, The On the-Catch Combination. By J. C, Cowdrick, 74 Billy Winks, the Boss Boy Shadow. By T. C. Harbaugh, | | 765 Gold Dust Dan’s Oath; or, Reckless Roy, the | Regulator, By J. W. Osbon, ) 756 Dashing Charlie’s Destiny; or, The Renegade’s Captive. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 757 Detective Frank’s Sweep-stakes; or, A Very Remarkab'e Expose. By Charles Morris. Dick, Jr.’s, Desperate Strait; or, The he Denson Decane of Dixon's Seposit, By Edward L, Wheeler. ; 59 Headlight Harry’s Heritage; or, The Railroad ™” Pards in Fortune City, By A. F. Holt, Charlie’s Pawnee Pard; or, Red Hair, : Da agate By Col, Prentiss ingraham, ; aduke, the Mustanger Detective; or, The pe Beak Mix-Up at Crescent Butte, By eut. A, K. Sims, adway Billy’s Bargain; or, The Three Detec- | « fine in Wareed, By J. C. Cowdrick. 763 Violet Vane’s Vision; or, The Fiery Hand of Fate, By Wm. G. Patten. Ready March 8. 764 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Lone Hand; or, Kodak Kate’s Secret Seven. by Ed. L. Wheeler. | Ready March 15. f A new issue every Tuesday. The Half-Dime Library is for sale by all Newsdealers, five cents per copy, or sent by mall, on receipt of six cents each. BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William street, New York, — * ~- il n= — SS ee cS. i». 7 ene baie — . —, +8 EE te Pe Oe rs, i . oe ue: a tha
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Hroadway filly ents in Headle eadle’s fal lime | ibrary. By J. a ‘cowirik 490 Broadway Billy, ‘the ne Boobbiaok Bravo; or, Brought to Bay by a Bold Boy. 514 Broadway Billy’s Boodle; or, Clearing up a Strange Case. 536 Broadway Billy’s ‘' Diffikilty ;” or, Old Rod- man’s Millions, 557 Broadway Billy’s Death Racket; or, The Street Arab’s Wake, idan ee ain ; gE oF SETI wm a A Reese BE Sie ee - 579 Broadway Billy’s Surprise Party; or, The Chimney Spy. 605 Broadway Billy; or, The Boy Detective’s Big lnnings. 628 Broadway Billy’s Dead Act; or, The League of the Sworn Seven, 669 Broadway Billy Abroad; or, The Bootblack Bravo in San Francisco, 675 Broodway Billy’s Best; or, Beating San Francisco’s Finest, 687 Broadway Billy in Clover; or, The Ruction at Lake Tulare, 696 Broadway Billy in Texas; or, Rounding Up the Red River Rustlers, 7083 Broadway Billy’s Brand: or, The New York Delegates in Hard-up Camp, RAG Was BEANS a - QUE Snap at So Santa Fe. Ts. © CO CowDAicx, TIRE cor" phoanw ay mLhe wow oma F wee ras hee ¢ a rt portosere! * «Weer Ss seen le wide 70 tate Gener | ane ee me Babee, D enhhendl Tr er bien Te Je hoow abowt tnt Abe’ pe gute “Oh ere Ue ee, Gee) oe ee 711 Broadway Billy at Santa Fe; or, The Pard Detectives’ Clever Deal. 720 Broadway Billy’s Full Hand; or, The Gamin Detective’s Double Snap at Santa Fe, 735 Broadway Billy’s Business; or, Waking Up Wind Canyon Camp. 788 Broadway Billy’s Curious Case; or, The Mysterious Disappearance at Manitou Springs. 758 Broadway Billy in Denver; or, The On-the- Catch Combination. Detectives in Denver. 762 Broadway Billy’s Bargain; or, The Three Latest ind New issue 57 Detective Frank’s Sweep-stakes; or, A Very Remarkable Expose. By Charles Morris. 758 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Desperate Strait; or, The Demon Doctor of Dixon’s Deposit. By Edward L, Wheeler. 759 Headlight Harry’s Heritage; or, The Rail- road Pards in Fortune City. By Col, A. F, Holt, 760 Dashing Charlie’s Pawnee Pard; or, Red Hair, the Renegade. By Col. Ingraham. Ag a Says : bi his x 761 Marmaduke, the Mustanger Detective; or, The Great Mix-up at Crescent Butte, By Lieut. A. K, Sims. %62 Broadway Billy’s Bargain; or, The Three Detectives in Denver, By J. C. Cowdrick. %63 Violet Vane’s Vision; or, The Fiery Hand of Fate. By Wm, G, Patten. Toe’ ) New Yor Delogater, ty % Hard-up up Camp” 5 64 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Lone Hand; or, Ko- dak Kate’s Secret Seven. By Edward L, Wheeler. 765 Flipper Flynn, the Street Patrol; Clean Knock-Out. By Jo-Pierce. Ready March 22, A New Issue Every Tuesday, BEADLE’s HALF-Dimg LIBRARY is for sale by all newsdealers at five cents per copy, or sent by mail, post-paid, on receipt of six cents each, BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William street, New York. or, The —"