Beadle's Pocket Library (no. 128) (1886 06 23)
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a . I " ‘ ond Class Mail Matter. June 23, 1886. 2.50 Published Weekly by Beadle and Adams Vol, X, a Sank No. 98 Siaeaian® New York, : Five Gente. No, 128, its ty NREORII Wt N i i, \ Cy NS = il \ y PAT Sa MN bi | es ) ‘\ Nyy h \) Wh \Y MK . NV CN a PETE CROUCHED DOWN BEHIND THE CLOSE PALINGS, NOT TEN FEET AWAY FROM THE CONSPIRATORS, AND IN FULL HEARING OF THEIR EVERY WORD,
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2 ‘Will Wildfire’s Racer. 2 Will Wildfire’s Racer; Winning Against Odds. BY CHARLES MORRIS, AUTHOR oF ‘WILL WILDFIRE,” ‘‘ HANDSOME HARRY,” “DETECTIVE DICK,” ‘‘ PICAYUNE PETE,” ETC, ? > CHAPTER L A MEETING AT THE BELL, To any one accustomed to sporting life in Phila- delphia, the name of the “* Blue Bell Inn " will be as a household word. Particularly to those fond of hors2s, and of the pleasures of the race-course, the name of the “Bell,” and of its genial proprietor, Charley Lloyd, must call up pleasant reminiscences of the past. It is seated on the extreme edge of Philadelphia, at the foot of a gentle declivity, near the suburban village of Paschalville, and close to the borders of a winding creek which forms the southern boundary of the city. , In front of the long, low porch of this noted hostelry, on a fine day in the latter part of Septem- ber, was collected a group of sporting gentlemen, to judge from their dress and the subject of their conversation. One of them, a gigantic figure, considerably over six feet in hight, and of magnificent muscular de- velopment, was just lighting a cigar, and listening to the animated conversation of the group. Drawing up a chair, he seated himself in a lazy attitude, and puffing a volume of smoke from his cigar, quietly remarked: *Tdon’t know that I’d mind riding the race my- self. It’s alittle past my jockey days, no doubt, but I’ve a notion I could get some speed out of a horse ‘et.’ y A volley of laughter followed this remark. “Out of an elephant. you mean,” exclaimed one of his friends. ‘The idea of Pierce Browniug on the course! I pity the poor animal that has you to carry.’ “Now don’t be laying that coat unction to your soul.” retorted Pierce, quoting from Shake- speare. ‘If you think a horse can’t carry me, just ask Will Wildfire about the time I took him down the steep road to the Falls bridge. Will’s a bold chap, to be sure; but I'll be hanged if he didn’t turn the color of whitewash that day.” “You needn’t be advertising yourself,” rejoined Ben Huntly, another member of the party. ‘*We all know you have the devil in you when you are stirred up. I would sooner ride behind a bareback circus performer, than Pierce Browning when he’s in his wild humor.”’ Pierce laughed. ‘“*Me! Why I’m a very baby behind a horse. I'll sue you next for defamation of character.” * And I'd much sooner risk paying damages that way than getting damages behind your bays,” re- torted Ben. “ But, by the way, what bas become of Will lately? I have not seen him these three weeks.” : ‘Oh! he’s alive and kicking,” responded Harry Waters, whose slim, alert figure was leaning earily against a post, “I’ve a notion. though, that he has a touch of woman on the brain. He seems to be aes dreadfully sweet on his fair friend, Clara oreland, “All flirtation. Flirtation, every scrap of it!” ed Pierce. ‘* Will is nota marrying man, And, speaking of that,do you know that the fair Clara has eee her gallant black for next week’s steeple- chase “The deuce she has!” ejaculated Ben, with a whistle; ‘‘ Not going to ride him herself, I hope?” “Tf she did Ud bet my bottom dollar on her,” re- eat Pierce, “for She can ride like Jehu when her lood’s up. Idoubt if there is another woman in the city that can hold a candle to her on horse- back.” “By Jove, if sherid:s I wantto bs there!” remark- ed Charley Lloyd, the host, rejoining the party. “But are any of you gentlemen entering horses for the October races? There is going to be some fine sport afloat on that occasion, if 1 am not mis- taken.” “There'll be jest the cutest ridin’ you never see’d!’’ remarked a gray-haired negro hositler, ** An’ peg a p’int or two ’bout de course, for I’s been ar. “You bet he has!” assented the host, energetical- ly. ‘*What Pomp don’t know about horses ain't worth knowing. by, he has jockeyed more races than any other man of his age in the country,” ‘V's, rid more races,” protested the old fellow, a little offended. ‘* Neber jockeyed a race in my Jife; and, bress de Lord, I neber will! Dat sort of fun ain't in dese ole bones.” “Oh! it is all right, Pomp, I was only joking," re- plied the good-natured host. ‘‘ But howis it, gentle- men; have any of you made entries for the races?” Ask Pierce Browning. He's the only horse-fan- cier in the crowd,” rejoined Ben Huntly, ‘For me, my strong hold is a pair of oars.” * And I never owned a racer in my life,’’ respond- ed the indolent giant. ‘A quiet family horse, now; an easy-going pacer, warranted to stand locomo- tives, and to start at nothing except a bunch of hay. That’s my ideal of a horse. None of your break- necks for quiet Pierce Browning, say I.” A general laugh followed, as Pierce drew himself up with an air of offended dignity at the idea of be- ing taken for a sporting character, *At any rate Will Wildfire has made an entry,” continued the host. ‘Black Bess is down on the books for the races.” **That’s cool in Will!” cried Pierce, rising to his feet excitedly. ‘Does the boy want to be cleaned out? Why, the best horses in five hundred miles round are entered. There’s Lady Clare and Rover— wh it does he expect to do against such noted thor- oughbreds?” “Don’t you worry,” rejoined the host, laying his finger mysteriously aside his nose. ‘‘ Will’s a young blood who knows what is what. There’s better metal in Black Bess than is ey known. I woul 'n’t say this only I know you’re his friends. But I’ve had the lass in training. What bave you to say for her, Pomp?” * Sooner let her say it for herself,” replied Pomp, with the same show of mystery. ‘‘ Only, if 1 was young enuff to ride her, I’d make some folks open dere eyes at de races, dat’s all!” “ Why, she has none of the points of a racer,” pro- tested Pierce, ‘‘I have not seen her stepping out; but the very build of the horse is enough for me.” “Appearances ar® deceitful, sometimes,” suggest- ed hela © Spirit is of more account than shape, any day. An who denies that?’ cried a cheery voice from the road, as the tread of a horse came to the ears of the preoccupied group. All eyes were instantly turned toward the speaker. They saw a tall, well-built, and well-dressed figure with a very handsome, frank, and engaging face, whose youthfullness of appearance was added to by the faint lines of a budding mustache. He was seated on a large-framed horse, which he drew up in front of the *‘ Bell” as he spoke. “Will Wildfire! or Old Nick never comes when he is called!” ejaculated Pierce. ‘‘ Jump down, boy. We are talking of you and giving you anything but a good character.” “Allright. Talk it out, ifyou want. Talk never broke a man’s bones,’’ Will cheerily cried, as he sprung with a light bound to the earth. Evidently the dashing young fellow was a favorite | “
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StS ——— Will Wildfire’s Racer. 3 with the gray-haired jockey, from the haste with which the latter bustled up to wait upon him, “He only wants a minute’s hoes iina Pomp. He's ust from his oats,’ explained Will. * How are you, ellows? Glad t» see you, Harry! a Ben, I heard how you Jaid out Jack Price last wee . Wish I had been there. Hallo, Pierce! How's this? Why don’t you bring him out a sofa, Charley? 1t’s a confound- ed shame to leave him there on his feet.” “Do you think they could carry a better man?” retorted Pierce. ‘‘Why, hang you, boy, you will have people bidding for me for a lazybones next. It + you give me the name, shoct me if I don’t have the game; so fetch along your sofa, landlord.” * Haven't got any your measure,” replied the host, looking comically at Pierce’s six feet three. “Is this all true we hear, Will?” asked Ben. “ Are you entering Black Bess for Fall races?” “Ob, yes!” replied Will, indifferently. ‘*She can’t be any more than beat, you know. And she will have plenty of er a! in that.” — “Tell that to the horse marines!” ejaculated Pierce. ‘You can't come the don’t-care game on me. You're calculating to win, you villain, or you’d be very clear of entering.” “T can take my chance in the crowd,” Will smil- ingl replied. *But do you know the blood that’s against you? There’s ee Clare to trot against, for one.’’ “Oh, hang Lady Clare! She's gota name, Buta name ain’t always a game. Come, fellows, I’m as dry as a pitcher plant. Let us have something to wet our whistles, 7 a There was no Ys notre raised to this proposition, and they entered the bar-room in company, “ What will you drink?” asked Will, as they stood together at the bar. * Ale for me,” responded Pierce, “Pll try that prime old Madeira,” said Harry Waters. indicating the bottle with his finger. “And bless you all gemmen. I won't mind a mouthful of old rye.” They looked around to see who was the owner of this hoarse voice. There stood a blear eyed, ill-fa- vored old toper. who bad silently ranged himself at the bar beside them. “* Get out now, Jake!’ cried the host, severely, “I will not have you disturbing my guests.” “Didn't this gemman call 5.4 the comp’ny 2? re- torted the old chap, in an offended tone. three fingers of old rye, for mine.” Will turned and looked atthe trembling hands and bloated face of the incorrigible old drunkard. “T don’t think he would be a good subject to waste a temperance lecture on,” said the young man, with ashort laugh. “Heis bound to drink himre into the grave, so I suppose I may as well help him to a = his coffin. Give him a nerve-steadier, Char- ey. The landlord silently handed out bottle and glass. The old chap, nothing loth, turned out a brimming draught, and poured down the burning liquor as if it had been so much water, “Thank you, gemmen!” he muttered. ‘ That’s good fer an honest old feller’s bones. Yer ain't got the nails in old Jake’s coffin yet.” , There was a sinister look on the old ehap’s face as he turned away. He was evidently treasuring up Will’s words spitefully against him, Little cared Will for that, however. He was too In a few minhtes more the whole party were on the road, Will on horseback. the others in the car- riage in which they had come to the Bell. CHAPTER II. OLD AND YOUNG JOCKEYS. Nor more than half a mile from the locality of our last chapter, on a rising point in the road that to Darby, stood a modest brick house, fronting the road to the west, and eastwardly looking far ll take_ | over the broad flat meadows through which wound the Schuylkill River, on its way to the Delaware. The house was not particularly inviting in appear- ance, the only evidence of taste about it being afew of the common garden flowers, which grew in the front yard, while a small kitchen garden extended in the rear, Leaning over the fence was a stout-built, sinister- looking fellow, dressed in plaid pants and a well- worn knit jacket. Yet there was something of tho sport about his general aspect, and in the jaunty way in which he wore his hunting cap, His whiskers: were of the ‘mutton chop” pattern, adding to the general English contour of his face. He held be- tween his teeth a well-colored meerschaum, fron: gn he was sending clouds of smoke into autum- nal air. “I'll go a cow and a brace of sheep that I know the cut of that chap’s jib,’ he muttered, looking to- ward a horseman, who had just turned a bend in the road not faraway. ‘A blazing little dandy tie always was; but he’s got some blood in him, I'll say that for Mark Preston.” The rider came rapidly up. He was of a small figure, one of those wiry builds that are apt to make up by agility for lack of strength. He was dressed with a neatness that closely approached to foppish- ness, while his well-waxed mustache gave an air of affectation to his otherwise good-looking face, rawing up his horse to a walk he ascended the slight acclivity, he approached the spot where the man with the pipe seemed to await him with some curiosity. “Glad to twig you, Mr. Preston,” he cried, as the horseman came nearer. ‘I'll be hanged if you don’t always manage to look as neat as a new pin.” “I wish I could say the same for you, Luke.” re- marked the horseman, as he checked the animal and brought him to a full stop. “Me! Oh, 1’ma rough diamond! You better not waste any rose-water on me.” Mark laughed as he sprung from his horse, and threw the rein over a paling of the fence. “ How’s business?” he asked, ‘It’s darned mean,” was thereply. “‘ Everything’s gone wrong, since—”’ ‘Since you and I went into partnership, eh?” * Well, anyhow, ever since I tried to get even with that college snipe, young Wildfire. Blast him, he warped my cash first, scorched my back next, and last of all I burnt up all my furniture trying to scorch him back.”’ ** But you got the insurance.” “Nary insurance,” rejoined Luke, shaking his head. “I was a bit afeard to push matters in that quarter, you see; for there was some talk of sending me to Cherry Hill as a house-burner. No, blast him, it all went; and here I am, trying to pick up a living in an honest way.” Mark looked into the hardened face of the man before him and laughed significantly. * You are not ditching, anyhow,” he said. ‘No, [ ain’t come to that re Luke replaced the meerschaum in his mouth, and ae out its smoke with a complacency which in- dicated that his physical labors were not of a very irr kind. “Look here,” resumed Mark, with a cautious glance around him, “I don’t know how you feel; but for me, I have no notion of letting up on Will Wild. fire yet. Hang it, Luke, if I had got hold of Wild- flower Hall, which is mine by right, I would have made a royal berth there for you.’ “Much you would!” cried Luke, with a contempt- uous laugh, “None of that taffy. I ain’t that kind.” “111 swear I would,” persisted Mark, “But that ain’t here northere. I can’t give what I haven’t got, But Ill tell you what it is. my boy, there’s some- thing of the hornet in me. I can sting twice in the same place. Whatsay you? Shall we go for Wild- fire if an opening offers?” 7
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4 Will Wildfire’s Racer. “1m your crow forathousand!” ejaculate Luke, striking his rough hand into the white palm of the man before him. “Do you know,” he continued, ‘it’s partly that which brought me out here? I wanted to be near Wildflower Hall, and keep an eye open for chances.” “There may be a chance before we are much older,” suggested Mark, mysteriously. “T'm in with you, thes, root and branch. “The young blood is going it heavy on horses,” continued Mark. ** And I've got a notion he’s calcu- lating to make a sweepstakes at the Suffolk Park races, I’m told he’s playing the brag game on a new trotter. “Tye seen her,” responded Luke. “A regular slab-sided, crook-kneed specimen, She’s as black as the ace of spades. ut color don’t win in a PORRERACe, She ain’t got one point of a racer about er.” “Then if he can be led on to bet heavy on her speed— But do you know a good horse when you 8 e one?” ‘*Me know a good horse?”’ ejaculated Luke, with astonishment. ‘Me. that was at every Derby for ten years, and that’s seen every blooded animal that’s got a pedigree worth a farthing? You bet I ain't the chap to back my money against a cart horse for aracer, Just take my word for it, there ain’t an ounce of genuine blood in Black Bess.” “Blood be fizzled!” came a hoarse voice near them. ‘The chap as says she can’t trot don’t know a bean from a punkin, an’ I don’t keer if his name’s King George! Don’t tell me!” It was with a start of guilty surprise that the two confederates looked around. There, before them, was the bloated face and ragged attire of old Jake, the surly old oper who ha, an hour or two before, pushed himself on Will Wildfire and his friends. ‘*You kin put this ap yous ipe,”’ continued the old chap. ‘* Charley Lloyd has ha‘ her in training, and he ain’t wasting his time on no slouches,”’ “Hallo! Jake; is that you?” cried Mark. “ And drunk, as usual.” * Ain’t had but a brace o’ nips to day.” “But didn’t you swear off for the year? You told me yourself you did.” “So TI did;” rejoined Jake. ‘An’ I kept it too, right squar’ through. There ain’t no slidin’ round corners on a sw’ar-off with old Jake; you bet!” os Sen it? Why the year ain’t done yet.” “Tell you what it is,’ said Jake, mysteriously. “Thera was a bit of blunder in that bizness. I got d’ceived by Charley Lloyd’s clock; an’ that’s how it is IT ain’t guv up sniiling.” “Doceived by the clock, hey?” “1t was half an hour fast, you see. I calkerlated to sw’ar off at twelve o’clock, New Year night, an’ nick me if I didn’t do it at half past ‘leven! 5S. you see it were last year ’stead of this. I k=pt it too, straight up, like a man, fur the rest of the year.” His two audit rs laughed heartily. “Now don’t yer be swallerin’ any sich blarney ‘bout black Bess,” he continued. “They ain't a-goin’ to publish her fur the go that’s in her. But T’ve seen her paces, ani I know a peg or two ’bout hosses. Jist you see if she don’t make sweepstakes ofthe races. I wouldn’s lis *bont her fur a cow, fur T don’t like Wildfire Will fur nothin’.” Mark Preston started at this admission, and looked significantly at Lule. “You don’t like him, eh?” “Not fur a peanut. I’m a gemman, born and bred, lam. He’s been a puttin’ on airs an’I don’t ‘low no upstart to play that on me.” A meaning wink passed between the confederates. The thought struck them both that this old chap might be made use of. He was well known as a hanger on about training stables, and had the free entree to every locality about the race-cours®. | “Black Bess can trot then?” asked Mark quietly. “Tf she can’t a bird can’t fly.” The conversation continued in a more confidential tone. The three men gradually closed up together near the fence, their voices falling, while a deep in- terest in the subject seemed to possess them. They — so intensely interested, in fact, that they failed oO ore one circumstance of some importance, ut we must go back a short time in our story to properly understand this circumstance. If we return again to the “ Bell ” we will find old gray-haired Pomp seated, with elbows on knees, and his chin on his two hands, 0n a broad stone by the roadside. On a smaller stone near him sits a little chap who seems a miniature copy of himself. His companion, in fact, js a half-grown negro boy. as black as charcoal, with a wonderfully flattene nose and eyes that shine like diamonds. but it needs no second look to see that the boy is nofool. There is a shrewd look upon his face and a sharpness of expression which indicate that it would not be ad- visable to buy him for a ninny. “*T tell you what,” said Pomp, with an air of great confidence in the boy, “dar ain’t no use talkin’, but hoss bizness is jess alive with tricks. Can’t tell me! It’s — runnin’ over with ’em.” “T allers s’posed de bess hosses beat.” “That *pends, that ‘pends,’ replied the old man, paso, 2 is grizzled head. ‘Why, dar’s more tricks in a hoss-race than dar’s beans in coffee. Sometimes de hosses is doctored afore dey get on de track, and sometimes dey is jockeyed arterward. Tt’s all one way. It’s de ole betters dat gets it, an’ de greenhorns dat’s sold. Mought as well put yer nose in a rat-trap as yer money ina raceif you don't know de p’ints.” “Bet dar ain’t no jockeyin’ with Black Bess,” said the boy, confidently. ‘‘Marse Will’s goin’ to pile money on her, an’ I’s a-goin’ to pile her through.” ‘You keep yer eyes skinned, Pete.” rejoined the old man, with a knowing shake of the head. “ You ain’t ’arned de tricks yet. When you’s rid as many races as I has, den you kin talk.” “Dey can’t beat me stickin’ to a hoss, anyhow,” returned Pete. “You're jess a little monkey at dat,” acknowl- edged Pomp, looking at the boy as if he took some of the credit to himself. ‘But dat ain’tall. If an ‘coon comes ‘round you, on de race say, with a hun of candy, or a plate of nice clams, jess don’t you bite. Dat trick were tried on me, once, and I got sick as a 'coon in de middle of de race,” “Will you be dar?” asked Pete. “Me be dar!” cried the old fellow, with a chuck- ling laugh, ‘Me be dar! Why de race couldn’t come off widout Pomp.” “T'm a-zwine to stick to you,” said Pete. ‘If dey gits de best of me, denit’s allright. But I’s a notion when dey see old Pomp about, dat on sheer off.” “Jess you bet on dat,” laughed the old jockey. ‘*Dar ain’t arascal dat I don’t know like a cat knows a& mouse.” There was something contagious in the old fellow’s laugh. It shook him from head to foot as if a small earthquake had broken loose within him. Pete caught the same disease, and laughed until he rolled off his stone helplessly on the ground. A half-hour afterward Pete was trudging along the Darby road, still breaking out into a enst of melanie at intervals, as he thought of old Pomp’s un “Bet dey can’t beat de ole man,” he soliloquized. “ Hello! who’s dat dar?” . He hurried on, with a boy’s curiosity, to try and recognize the man who was strolling on some dis- tance in advance. It was not long before he knew him as the drunk n loafer, old Jake. A With a sniff of contempt Pete held back, enjoying himself now with a climb over the fence, now with a long look at the distant scenery. But, turning a sharp bend in the road, he was sur- prised to discover Jake in close conference with two er their talk seeming to be of a very confidential nature, ~— ~~
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Will Wildfire’s Racer. 5 “By gum!” cried the boy, slapping his knee ener- etically, “if dat ain’t de house whar I seen de nglish sport, Luke Lister, dar ain’t no use talkin’! An’ whose dat oder chap? Oh! lawsee! It’s jess Marse Mark Preston! It’s Pete’s old boss! My bones! won't he go for me if he kin cotch me? But Pete ain't dat sort of a flea.” Ae The boy stood a moment indecisive, . “ Dar’s deviltry ’mong ’em, I bet on dat. An’ it’s deviltry ’g’in’ Marse Will, too. 1’s jess gwine to find out what all dat talk’s *bout.” It needed but a second for Pete to leap the fence into the adjoining fleld, Arrived there, he snaked himself rapidly along behind its shelter. It was not many minutes before he reached the corner of Luke Lister’s garden-fence. Here he crouched down behind the close palings, and not ten feet away from the conspirators, in full hearing of their every wo) CHAPTER ITI. CLARA MORELAND VEXED, AND PETE SURPRISED. THERE was a narrow front yard and a neat porch to the house by whose railing Will Wildfire had just stopped. In the porch sat a young lady of great beauty, and dressed with a rich taste that added doubly to her cbarms. She had a book in her hand, which she had been diligently reading, but which she flung hastily down on catching a glimpse of her visitor, “Do come in!” she cried. ‘*lam ever so glad to see youl I was just thinking of you, and wishing you would come.” “And you know what the old proverb says,” smiled Will, as he opened the gate and entered. “No, [don’t.. But I did want to see you.” “And I wanted to see you," replied Will, taking her hand, and gazing into her sparkling y ben * Now that you will let me see you, without that distracting vail, which you used to wear, and the distressing mystery which you used to spread around ‘ou.”* : The lady laughed with the merriest and most rere of laughter, as she motioned Will to a seat. “What a race Iled you!” she gavly cried. “And what a dreadful quandary poor Will Wildfire was in! But speaking of races, do you know that some busy friend has entered my name for next week’s steeple-chase? I don’t know who it was; but I don’t thank him a bit. As if I would ride in any such an affair!” ; “T would bet on your winning, if you did!” ex- claimed Will, ‘‘ That is, if you rode as I have seen you.” “Tonly wish my friends would mind their own af- fairs,” was her vexed reply. ‘My Selim is entered for the race, and T hardly see how to withdraw him. It is a very unpleasant position to be in, against my will. And I want you to help me out of it * “Why, of course,” rejoined Will, a little confused- ly, ‘Anything I can do. Iwill ride with you if you wish, and help you to push Selim. But he don’t need pushing. Haven't I seen him take you over a five-railed fence as though the brute had wings?’ “That does not matter, I certainly shall not take part in this race. You must get me out of it in some satisfactory way, Wouldn’t I like an oppor- tunity of thanking the gentleman to whom I owe this pleasant service!” “Tam glad it was not I.” laughed Will, “I fear Imight not enjoy the kind of thanks you have in your eyes, But I willsee whatIcando How nice- ly you are fixed here, Clara. I have not been to see you s nce you moved here, you remember,” “Of course I remember. Young ladies are not apt to forget such kind attentions. Here I have been ~—let_ me see—” “Just one week to-morrow.” broke in Will. “You need not be trying to stretch it out into a month!” “Do you kuow,” she exclaimed, with a sudden change of topic, “I half believe it was Pierce Brown- ing that entered Selim for the race. It would be ie like one of his gigantic jokes. I wouJd make him ride it himself only I have some fear of Selim’s back.” “Pierce! Oh! no, it could not have been he.” “} would not trust him,” she replied, obstinately, “He. is full of his tricks, Butdocomein, I want you to see the inside of the house.” She sprung quickly up, and led Will into the hall, rapidly running over the advantages and charms of her new residence, An hour elapsed ere Will again appeared ie the porch, and, with a warm good-by from his fair host- ess, turned briskly up the street, followed by her eyes with a look that had in it more than interest. Evening was approaching when Will Wildfire found himself riding rapidly along a country road. It was something over a mile beyond the “Bell,” leading cut from the main turnpike half-way be- tween Paschalville and Darby, and running west- ward through a rolling and well-cultivated country. Just before him there rose, to the left of the road, the gables and chimneys of a somewhat extensive mansion, nearly hidden by a luxuriant growth of trees and bushes. Will sre from his horse and opened the gate leading into the grounds of this edifice, which was no other than Wildflower Hall, the handsome residence which he had inherited from a rich old uncle. He looked with some pride on the broad fagade of the edifice, as he Jed his horse up to its front. “I don’t wonder that, Mark Preston made a fight for it,” he muttered. ‘Hey! Pete! where in the world are you?” He was answi red by the appearance of the little negro boy whom we lately saw in close converse with old Pomp. “T's "bout! I's allers *bout!” cried Pete, running hastily up. ‘‘Gimme de hoss, Marse Will.—Looks like as you's been drivin’ him hard.” “Breathing him a little, Pete. I shook him out rather sharply along the level above the Bell.” He tossed Pete the bridle, and turned toward the porch of the mansion. ** Jess wait a bit, Marse Will,” remained Pete. ‘I's got some’at to tell you.” “To tell me?” asked Will, with surprise. “De little nig’s been scootin’ a bit,” replied the boy, in a significant tone, “ Dar’s fun in de wind, you bet, Didn't I cotch dem three coves a-layin’ dar games? Jess you b'lieve it, dat’s all.” ‘What three coves?” ““Why dar was Marse Mark Preston, Pete’s ole boss. Den dar war dat sportin’ cuss, Luke Lister, De oder was old Jake, dat low-down guzzler who loafs round de Bell,—Dar ain’t none of dem three lubs you much, Marse Will.” “Not the first two, anyhow,” rejoined Will. ‘ As for old Jake, I have never‘harmed him, that I know “Him! Don’t you spend on him, Dat cuss’d sell his teeth fer *nough whisky to soak his gums,” “But what was it, Pete? Did you overhear them concocting some rascality?” “T see’d 'em,” began Pete mysteriously. “Dey were standin’ in de fence corner Concoctin’, Dat’sa good word, Marse Will; dey were concoctin’. An’ I come creepin’ ‘long an’ creepin’ long, for all de world like a snake frew de grass. Fuss t’ing you knowed dar I was, in de fence corner, and a-hearin’ ebery word dey sid.” “T don’t like that sort of business, Pete,” replied Will turning away with an air of displeasure, “T want nothing done for me but what is done openly. Let me hear of no more spying.” “Like to know how yer goin’ to cotch snakes ‘thout scon in'?”* answered Pete sturdily, “ Tell you what, Marse Will, dar’s fun in de wind, You's got to keep your eye skinned.” * | want ¢9 hear no more about it,” Will sternly re- joined, “Let them try the worst. A man that’s ready and able to defend himself like a man need
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hy 6 Will Wildfire’s Racer, not fear the schemes of a brace of rascals. Let them show-their hands, and I fancy they will find their match.—And hark to this, Pete. Iwill have no spying.” He turned on his heel and entered the porch, leav- _ ing the boy surprised, to say the least, * Show de’r hands!’ muttered Pete, with a sniff of disdain. ‘* Much dey’ll show de’r hands. Ain't dat sort of buttercups, dem chaps. I’m kinder ’shamed of Marse Will—askin’ me tolet up on’em! Jess you cotch me at it, dat’s all! I’s agwine to ride Black Bess at de races, and { ain't neber gwine to let dem *eoons doctor her. Nary time.” With a look of intense disgust at his master’s lack of prudence, Pete led the horse to the stables, still muttering to himself. But we must make a step forward in time, to the date of the great event which had been the talk of sportsmen’ for a month past—the steeple-chase, which was looked for the last week in September. The place selected for this race was the broad sweep of meadows, which border the Delaware for miles below the mouth of the Schuylkill, and which, with their frequent ditches, fences and embank- meots, afford all the difficulty and danger necessary to this peculiar sort of race. The place of the meet was at the White Horse, a roadside inn, several miles south of Darby, the start- ing point of the race being a half-mile eastward from the hostelry, and beyond the line of the rail- road to Baltimore, which here runs at no great dis- tance from the river. / It was a fresh autumnal morning, with a bite in the air which showed that summer had definitely passed, though the sun shone as brightly as in mid- August. A group of horsemen had already gathered in front of the White Horse, and was being rapidly ~ added to as horsemen and carriazes successive teh rived, there being a good show of ladies among those occupying the various elegant vehicles. The house swarmed with people, yielding the ho- tel folks as much employment as they could conve- niently attend to. Of our own special friends the only one yet present was Pierce Browning, who had ridden up on a power- * ful horse, but who had now taken his favorite position in a chair tilted back on the hotel porch, where he was surrounded by a small knot of persons to whom Pierce’s words were oracles. “There promises to be a parfect beehive of folks,” 6 said, looking over the gathering throng, “ But T’ll swear that I haven’t seen a half-dozen horses that look to have the spring for this sort of work; and I’ve been all through the stables. Ha! there’s Will Wildfire now; and mounted on a sorry nag that couldn’t leap a mud-puddle, let alone an eight-foot ditch, He's not booked for the r°ce, that’s certain, with such an animal to carry |im, Hallo! Will; where did you pick up your antediluvian?” “Nabbed him just as he was leaving the ark,” r-- ald Will, as he joined the group of Pierce's sa’ ites. “1 didn’t buy him for beauty, you can bis, but for his concealed virtues.” “Hidden so deep that they will never make their way to the surface, I fear,” responds | Pierce. “Just wait. Power and beauty are not always linked together. By Jupiter, there's a fine crowd romised! And a good sprinkling of ladies to give one to the occasion.” Z “ Yonder comes one that vou should be interested in.” sait Pierce quietly, pointing to a lady who had just ridden up on a jet-black horse. Will looked quickly round, and recognized Clara Moreland, sitting her noble animal with a grace that contrasted favorably with many of those around her, while her beauty was doubly enhanced by the fine color gained by her brisk ride. Without replying to_his friend, Will‘ sprung from the porca and hastened to the fair equestrienne, fol- lowed by a quiet smile from Pierce. So ti have es your mind,”’ he said, stand- ing at her bridle hand. ‘* You are going to ride.” “ Hardly,” she replied, * or I would not have given Selim a trot in advance, I wish simply to escape with honor from the unpleasant position in which I have been placed.” “Oh! Selim is good for a burst yet,” said Will, patting the glossy mane of the animal. * But he will not carry me,” was her decisive an- swer. ‘There are some ladies to ride, I am told; but f certainly do not intend to be one of them. You remember what you promised?” * Yes, yes,’’ replied Will, hastily. ‘‘I must con- fess. I would have liked to see you ride. But if you are set against it, trust tome. I will contrive some means of getting you out of the difficulty without a square back-down.” “IT shall depend upon you. But why are they stopping here? It is near the time for the race.” “Wait till I get my horse, I will accompany you to the field. In five minutes more Will and his fair friend were riding toward the starting point of the steeple- chase, to which a stream of horses and carriages had now set in. CHAPTER IV. THE STEEPLECHASE. A sprorat train from the city had brought down several hundreds of people to the scene of the race. Also from the neighboring towns of Chester and Darby, and from the country for miles around, spec- tators had gathered, so that the ground presented an animated appearance before the cavalcade of horsemen, and the long line of carriages came to add a new life to the scene, Most of the horses entered for the race had been in the stables of the White Horse Inn since the pre- ceding day. though some few had been brought over since morning. The repressed excitement of the throng broke out into a cheer of wild enthusiasm, as these animals were now ridden into the field. There were eighteen of them in all, many of them beautifully formed and finely groomed animal:, But what was the surprise of those to whom he was known to see Pierce Browning ride forward and take his place in the line of contestants. He hal changed his hat for a close-fitting jockey cap. a blue sash encircled his waist, while his short, tightly- buttoned coat was bottle green in color. The horse he bestrode was a mighty bay, of gigantic pattern as himself, and with a look about him that told ex- perienced horsemen that he was not going to be the last at the goal. But Pierce wore his old easy look, as if the event of the race was a matter in which he had not the slightest concern. He lounged on his horse as he usually lounged on a chair, “Oh, yes!” he said to a friend who attempted to break a jest upon him. ‘I just want to see the affair through. There is no fun in watching only the start or the close. I thought I would ride along and see it out.” * You don’t expect to take that elephant through?” “Maybe not. Yes, I'l! take a cigar. Have you got a light? There, that’s more comfortable. By the way, how much was it you said you would stake against the elephant?” ‘“*T have no recollection of offering any be*.” was the laughing rejoinder. “ But I wouldn’t mind lay- ing two to one that you don't come in fourth best.’ “Done! for a cool hundred,” respended Pierce, reaching out his hand in acknowledgement of the bet. It was with some surprise that Will Wildfire had seen his huge friend ride into the line of contestants, He was about moving forward to speak to him when he hay arrested by an exclamation from Clara More- and, a
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Will Wildfire’s Racer. | q “Tt cannot be possible!” she cried. “ What?” asked Will, turning quick] ‘Do you not see? Yonder, It is He has joined the line of racers!” i An exclamation of astonishment broke from Will’s Ips. “He! Why, he is no river,” “Yes, he is. He rides well. I have seen him lead the field in a fox-chase, and take every fence in his way. And his horse is a good one. It cannot beat Selim, however.” “Then why not ride yourself, and distance him in this, as you have in other close races?” 4 A new look came into Clara’s face. Her feeling toward Mark Preston had dvepened until it had be- come a sentiment of hatred. Why should she not ride, if but to vanquish him? Her lip curled de- cisively as she turned to Will “*T will ride,” she said, “ Bravo\” he responded, gayly. ‘* Beat him, andT will be your debtor. I will not be far behind you.” “ Whar, on that horse?’ she asked, with a glance of contempt at Will’s mount. “Don't despise that horse. He is a rough dia- mond, Ido not expect to carry the field with him, itis true. But I will not be last.” “You are not entered, though.” “Tt isnot too late for that,” replied Will, as he rode away. A half-hour passed, the line of contestants had now somewhat extended. There were twenty-five in all that broke from the start at the word. A shout that made the air riug arose from the throng of spectators, as the cavalcade of animals, in a line as straight as that of a dragoon parade, burst into full speed, and darted across the firm, short-grassed meadow, which formed the opening ground of the race. But hardly for a minute was this neat line pre- served. Some lagged, some darted ahead, almost from the start. while others turned toward what they deémed the most favorable spot tu cross the first obstruction, a fence of medium hight, several hundred yards away. Pierce Browning rode, indeed, as if he had no personal interest in the event. He held his horse at an easy canter, seeming to be quite careless that half the field were already in advance of him. It was not so with Mark Preston, He shoved his horse from the start, with a nervous eagerness that was not likely to be favorable to his final success. ~ As for Clara Moreland, she had set out side by side with the other lady contestants. But her lip curved with quiet energy as she saw Mark Preston in the front rank of the race. “Who follows me?’ she cried, pointing forward war her whip. * Yonder is the man I am racing with. A loosening of the rein, a touch of her white hand on Selim’s neck, and the noble animal darted for- ward like an arrow, reaching the fence almost side by side with her foe. A new shout rose from the lookers-on as they saw the noble black with his graceful rider, dart like a leopard across the fence side by side with Mark, who took it with equal ease, She looked back with a feeling of involuutary dread for Will Wildfire. She was afraid his un- romising-looking nag would.hang fire at the start. ut no. There he rode easily along not far behind her. He cried out warningly: “Don't push him so onthe start. You will break his spirit before the distance is half made.” “T thought you knew Selim better,” was all her reply, as she patted the glossy mane of the noble animal, that bounded forward with such long and easy strides beneath her. . Mark Preston, too, looked around. His eyes kin- dled with a sinister light as he perceived his enemy, and caught the signs of an understanding between Aim and Clara Moreland. $ “Yonder!” he cried, in an excited tone, pointing back. fark Preston! forward to a wide ditch not farin advance. “You have made the fence. Now for the ditch!” Will gave a short laugh. He had no idea of enter- ing into emulation with hisenemy. But it was not so with Clara. Her blood was fu'ly up, and she, too, pointed to the ditch, exclaiming: “If you dare!” ‘“*] will dare more than that hefore I am done with you,”’ muttered the villain, as he turned his horse full on at the leap. His keen eye had noticed a point of advantage not observed by his fair contestant. The ditch was of unequal width, and the spot at which she had heaa- ed was some two or three feet wider than that chosen by her shrewd antagonist. Will, who caught sight of her error just as she headed at the ditch, was on the point of giving a warning cry, but he restrained himself and looked in mute admiration at the gallant stride with which she brought Selim up to the dangerous leap. Mark Preston was already over, and he looked back with an air of triumph just as the noble black reached the bank of tlie broad spread of water. But there was not an inst int’s hesitation, Selim rose as lightly and gracefully as a bird, darted like an arrow through the air, and lighted safely on the other side, though bis hind hoofs sent a shower of dirt rattling into the muddy stream. “Bravo!” cried Will, as he took the narrower pas- sage which Mark Preston had chosen, But we must go back to see what has become of Pierce Browning. There was a loud laugh from the lookers-on as the giant rode quietly up to the fence, pulled up his horse, and stood looking at it as if not quite sure whether it was worth bis while to attempt aleap. Most of the riders were already across, but the horse of one of them had balked close by where Pierce stood surveying the obstacle. His eager neighbor sprung to the ground, pulled a bar or two hastily from the fence, and began again to mount his horse. “Thank you,”’ said Pierce, turning the head of his great steed in that direction, and vaulting over the rail or two left in the panel, “Ill do as much for you at the next.” ‘ At the ditch he had still better luck, He struck it at a point where a slight bridge crossed it, over which the great horse went at a ringing gallop. Yor some distance now there was an easy way. The broad meadow extended without a break in its smooth expanse. And over its green surface the crowd of racing animals darted. But they were far from preserving the even line of their start. On the contrary a good two hundred yards separated the leading from the rear horses; while they were ex- tended still more in width. On the road that ran parallel to the racing grounds was visible a long line of horsemen and carriages, driving rapidly forward, eager to follow the hotly- contested race to its close. A few more trifling obstacles and the first mile of the race was covered. Of those who had started nearly one-half were already out of the race, so far as any chance of winning rested. They had all managed to pass the first fence, but the succeeding ditch had proved a greater obstacle. The fact is, that horses which will easily stride sixteen feet over a high fence will balk at a ditch not half that width they being usually timid about water until trained — toit. Three or four horses had obstinately refused to leap, and another had fallen and thrown his rider, porting him effectually out of the race. Of the adies who had started but one remained in the race besides Clara Moreland. She continued inthe first line of racers, close be- side Mark Preston, whose every movement she watched with a lip that curled with scorn and deter- mination, As for Will Wildfire his unpromising nag had done unexpected service. He had, it is true, sought easy slaces to cross the obstacles in his way, but yet he nad managed to keep at no great distance behind
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the leading line of contestants, He rode in an easy fashion as if he felt no personal interest in the race. Pierce Browning rode his great horse with the game careless ease as at the start, though it was noticed that he had made the last few leaps with a readiness that no one had expected. People began to think that there might be more in the horse than they had suspected. “Here's fun!" cried the nearest neighbor of Pierce, pointing forward with his riding-whip. “What! that low hedge? Why they are making nothing of it.” “No; but there is a heavy plowed field beyond. Some of them are having a deuce of a drag to get through it, And there goes Jove Elliott! Down on his nose for a thousand. I hope his horse hasn't broke his neck.” “The horse is all right,’’ replied Pierce. ‘I fancy your animal will have a job yonder. He has too much weight for plowed ground.” ‘We shall see,” replied Pierce, a smile curling his lip. “‘lhave not wasted his strength like those blockheads yonder. He will go over it like a bird.” The other laughed at the idea of anything bird- like about Pierce and lis horse. But the next mo ment they were facing the hedge. It was about three feet in hight, and the two horses went over it side by side with graceful ease. But in the plowed | aoe beyond there was a change. Horse after orse was dragging heavily through it, fetlock deep in the clinging soil. Here the reserve strength of the “elephant” began to tell. The black soil flew from behind his striding heels, as he rushed forward with remarkable speed, rapidly overhauling the struggling horses in advance, wk race is never settled till the winning post is reached,” remarked Pierce, coolly, looking back at his late neighbor. A half a mile more, and the chief obstacle of the race appeared before the eyes of the excited riders. This was a broad, deep ditch, level with the field, and varying from fifteen to eighteen feet in width. Several of the riders hesitated as they came in sight of this formidable obstacle. The foremost horse balked, and could not be made to take the leap. Others rode off to the right and left, in search of a narrower crossing. The next who approached, a heavy bearded fox- hunting farmer, drove his horse straight at the ob- stacle, touching him sharply with whip and spur as he faced the wide liquid reach. The noble animal rose and sprung from his tracks. But his fortune was not in accordance with his courage. His hind legs struck the water, sinkiug deep in the ditch, But the experienced horseman was off in an in- stant, tugging vigorously at the reins, and aiding the struggling creature with all his strength, A min- ute’s hard fight, and the horse was again on dry land, and with his master in the saddle. “Tf you dare!’’ cried Mark Preston, turning to Clara, and repeating her former words, while he pointed tauntingly forward. Her eyes flashed. She would have crossed ths ditch now if she died for it. Her foe was a few strides in advance. His well- trained horse rose easily to the ditch, taking him lightly over, though his heels dashed the water. And then, with a quick turn of the rein, the horse swerved around, coming side on to the point at which Selim was just rising to eh The black hesitated and balked at this obstacle, dropping almost on his haunches in his effort to re- cover. Olara kept her saddle, however, while a loud, sneering laugh came from her foe. It was not Soe eta For at that instant a huge animal, bestrode by a huge rtder, shot past her, and took the leap with a mighty spring. The at beast landed safely on the opposite bank, s Mark Preston’s horse on the flank with his off shoulder. laugh of scorn from the lips of the gigantic >, Will Wildfire’s Racer. rider, as horse and man rolled helplessly to the ground, “That’s a game that two can play at,” cried Pierce Browning, for it was he. The next instant the mighty bay was running like a mettled racer for the goal, only distanced by two of his competitors. New shouts now arose, The close was reached. two of the fox-hunting farmers coming in as firs and second, while Pierce Browning rode in as an easy third, In a few minutes afterward several others of the racers came in, not lalest among whom was Clara Moreland, who had again headed her horse at the ditch, and crossed it at a eae As for Will Wildfire he had turned away with a laugh from the scene o: Mark Preston’s misfortune, and was seeking an easier spot to cross. The fallen man had yet shown nosigns of ability to rise again to his feet. CHAPTER V. THE RACE DINNER. ‘““Yus, for a good thousand,” remarked Pierce Browning, resting his shoulder lazily against the wall. ‘f don’t know but I would have come. first, only EF didn’t want to take allthe starch oug@f your country riders. A thousand isn’t a bad lift for ten minutes’ work,” qi) “You might as easily have made it ten,” * °s tnd reply. ‘ You could have taken any quantity of bets against yourself.”’ “Thank you. But that ain’t my way. Except when I find folks eager to invest their spare cash. I eed a valuable minute, too, in punishing av coun- rel,” : “By Jove, but you gave him a settler!’’ cried the other. ‘“‘A broken arm or shoulder, I am not sure which, And the poor beast had to be shot. He was soply ruined. I pity the animal a good dea) more than I dothe man, There is only one opinion,in re- gard to his conduct.” oe “Hey, Will!” exclaimed Pierce, as_his yojehtut friend passed. ‘Where have you stabled yors,pag? You were not expecting to win a race wit , that sorry brute?” enn “Tl be hanged if I thought it was in you, ~ re- oined Will, turning and shaking the hand which ierce lazily extended. ‘Where in the world did you sick up a horse fit to carry your weight at t ace . “To tell the truth,” replied the giant, almost jin a whisper, “I didn’t know all that was in him my,. ‘f until I shook out his speed. The brute surprised rv :) as well as everybody on the field.” * He surprised Mark Preston, I imagine,” laughed Will. ‘‘But comein. The dinner is set, and the folks are crowding to the table.” . It was, indeed. a bso ae 2 and attractive scene to which they entered. A table that groaned with good things extended the full length of the dining- room, while another, of equal length, was set in the wide ball. The seats were already nearly all occupied with the contestants and lookers-on at the race, and the rattle of knife. fork and spoon was in full play a: Pierce and Will entered. “Here! here!’’ cried a dozen voices. “‘The head of this table is reserved for our giant rider, For Pierce Browning, the horse-demolisher and man- smasher,” * Couldn't help it,” said Pierce, as he slid into the designated seat. ‘ That beast of mine is down on villains, of every grade and color. I could no more have held him in than—” “Much you tried!” exclaimed a voice from the bottom of the table. ‘There is no use in advertis- ing yore as worse than nature made you.” “Oh! [have an indifferent spite Benin rogues,” replied Pierce, easily,—‘ Yes, a cut of the roast beef if you please—and let it be rare.” is : 4 | 4 : }
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a” —— Will Wildfire’s Racer. 9 At all events I have to thank you, Mr. Brown- ing,” spoke Clara Moreland, who was seated at the table. a short distance below him, ‘I escaped by a miracle from being thrown,” ‘*T am only sorry for one thing,” returned Pierce; “that it was the horse instead of the man that gota settler.—Shall I trouble you to pass the pepper, sir? Thanks.—Yes, if Mark Preston’s neck had been broken—the cheese, did you say?—I doubt if there would have been many tears shed.” Will had found a seat beside Clara, to whose com- fort he devoted himself with the most earnest atten- tion. There were many other ladies at the table, and the whole scene was a most brilliant and bust- ling one, After having done full justice to the good things set before them by mine host of the White Horse, our friends rose and walked out onto the porch, “ Will you not have an ice, Miss Moreland?” asked ieree, “No, thank you. What a beautiful view we have from here! What is that distant line of woods?” “at is far off in the Jerseys,” replied Will.— ‘*No, you must excuse me. I don’t care to smoke,” This last sentence was in response to a suggestion from Pierce. “Ten you will permit me?” “Ccrtainly. Every man is a free agent out in this country air.” “What was done with Mark Preston?” asked Clara, * turf ug to Will, as Pierce lounged away to get his cigar? Some of his friends took charge of him,” was the reply. “T cannot say w: ere they have en him.” ‘And was he really badly hurt?” “9,0t so badly as he deserved, A broken arm is his worst trouble.” “I do not wish him harm," she rejoined. ‘“ And yet I certainly cannot pity him for his hurt.”” “Pity him!” said Will, with set lips. ‘‘ Pierce is right. It would have served the scoundrel right if ~he rad gotten a broken neck instead of a broken oye,” ‘Ll escene about them was very animated. From wit’ in the house the rattle of dishes showed that the fea t was still going on with full vim, The porch W , filled with those who had been fortunate enough to get to the firsttable. A constant buzz of conver- sation and inccssant movement gave the charm of activity, while in the broad open space infront a rs array of carriages was already in motion, and active horsemen rode to and fro amid the throng, row halting to converse, now pushing forward as haste in their homeward journey. Over all, the bright September sun poured its gleaming light, enkindling the broad sweep of the meadows, the distant woodlands and the flashing waters of the noble Delaware, into a beauty of the most charming type. “T think I could stay here for hours,’ murmured Gara, her eyes fixed on the busy and brilliant spec- ie. “*And I with you,” - vs st tone, you,” responded Will, in a low, earn: @ gave a quick glance around, Their eyes met net Le an earnest look. For a minute they stood in lence, “Yet there is the necessity of getting back to Philadelphia to drag us away from this charm,” she smilingly said, ‘ Had we not better be going?” “Tf you wish,” he replied. In fifteen minutes more they were upon the road, Clara’s noble black stepping out as briskly as if he had not already done such severe duty that day. “T have some more respect for that horse of yours,” she said, looking at Will's unpromising mount. “ Hekept up very well with the front rank,” ‘He is not much to look at,” rejoined Will. ‘ But there is good duty inhim. Iborrowed him for the day from an old fox-hunting neighbor.” “Oh, you have been ing under false colors, then? But why did you not bring out Black Bess?’ ‘She is no leaper,”’ replied Will, ‘and I have bet- ter duty laid out for her before many days.” Thus conversing, they rode on, ng man other occupants of the road, and exchanging gree’ ings with numerous acquaintances. s they neared the city the line of horses and car- riages | ecame much thinner, and the voices of the young people fell into a lower tone, as the pace of their horses was allowed to slow almost into a walk, —_ this confidential conversation was rudely broken nto, Come!” cried a cheery voice behind them. “No whispering in company, if you please.” It was the voice of Pierce Browni' The next instant his great horse had pushed up beside them, effectually breaking up any private interview, CHAPTER VI. THE EFFECT OF TOO MUCH CURIOSITY, Ir was near sundown on the evening of the race when Will Wildfire passed the “ Bell’ on his home- ward journey, crossed the bridge leading over Cobb's creek, and rode slowly along the level reach extend- ing toward Darby. A half-mile in this direction brought him to the foot of a long slope, up which he let his weary horse ascend at a walk. Near the summit of this acclivity stood a roadside house, which he had often passed without noticing it, but which was not destined to escape his atten- tion on this occasion, It was, in fact, the residence occupied, unknown to him, by his mortal enemy, Luke Lister, As Will rode slowly past, engaged with his thoughts, and paying no heed to his surroundings, his atten- tion was suddenly arrested by a loud cry, in a voice well-known to him, that seemed to come from some locality near the eg “ Hey! ome gh allo! Murse Will!” came the voice. ‘*Yere lis! "way up here! Top de chimbly! Lawsee, Marse Will, l’s proper tired of *t; but dar ain’t no way to ’squatulate. I’s jess a pris’ner.” Will’s vision, which had been wandering in all directions for the sound of the voice, now caught sight of an object at which he broke into an involun- tary Jaugh. For there, percued Rog the chimney of the house opposite him, looking much like a miniature edition of Kriss Kringle done in charcoal, sat his boy Pete, his coat hanging in rags about him. while his origival color was by no means improved by a thick coating of soot. “ How in the world did you get there?” cried Will, as soon as he could repress his laughter, “How in de world is I to get way from yere? Dat’s more like it,’ returned Pete, indignantly. “Guess I'll git down fu’st ‘fore I 'gin to tell stories.” But we will oe here to tell the story which Pete could well beg to be excused from under the circumstances, He had, in fact, been for several hours an enforced inmate of the house. About three o’clock that a ternoon, after one of his usual confabs with old Faun, Pete had reached that locality on bis way ome, The remembrance of his last visit there, and of the discoveries then made, recurred to him together, pte Cs disgust at his young master’s lack of curiosity. “Pears like as Marse Will ain't Rot no gum tion,” muttered the boy to himself as he strollec lazil along the road. “Dar ain't no use talkin’ "bout i I's raally ’shamed of him. Lucky dar’s somebody "bout yere ain’t no fool. It’s jess s’prising. Dat's what ‘ole Pomp says. It’s jess 8 ‘prising de way rown folks does carry_on. An’ white folks, too, as fas been to college, Reckon dat’s what dey ell eddication. Fea nad In this last exclama'ion Pete threw as much con- tempt and disgust as he could well express in ony asa word, He relapsed into silence as he trudged on, but his face still expressed a measure of silent discontent. But the boy’s attention was soon turned to a more
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10 interesting subjéct. He had now reached the turn in the road from which Luke Lister’s mansion was visible. As he did so, he was surprised to see a car- riage with a pair of horses standing before the door, while several men seemed engaged in carrying some object into the house, hat this was the boy could not determine, though he heard, above the voices of the carriers, some sounds which seemed like loud groans. Pete’s curiosity, which it was never very difficult to excite, was immediatel™ at boiling point. He hurried forward at the top of his speed, but too late to make out the character of the burden, which had now disappeared within the house. “What's de row?” he asked of the coachman, who was preparing to drive off. “None of your slack, if so please,” returned that important personage, ‘ Get out, now, if you don’t want to be hurt.” He drove off rapid!y down the road. Pete approached the house, within which all the men had now disappeared. He cautiously peeped in at the door, but there was nobody to be seen. But his curiosity was by no means allayed by the loud groans which came from some locality in the upper regions of the mansion. To his excited imag- ination it seemed as if there must have been murder at least, if not some deeper crime. He crept on and on, drawn inward by some such irresistible attraction as draws the iron to the load- stone. Up-stairs, step after step, he moved with in- ward trepidation, e turned, ready to leap with one bound down the stairs as a door opened above and a step sounded on the floor. But a man immediately appeared, a stranger to him, and he took heart. It was not the dreaded form of Luke Lister, and he felt no serious fear of ay one else, ‘ ete clung to the balusters as this person ap- proached, and asked in a dubious tone: “What's ds row? Who's kilt?” “None of your black business. Dry up, now, and get out of this.” But as the man made no effort to put him out, Pete held his ground. He began his upward course again, after the man had disappeared down-stairs, In fact, the boy’s curiosify was now overwhelming, Not even the thought of Luke Lister restrained him in his eagerness to solve the mystery. The groans, which had now become scarcely andi- ble, appeared to emerge from a room on the second floor, to whose door led a short passage. Along this Pete crept, with the same cautious step, inspired with irresistible eagerness to learn the nature of this mystery, the cause of the re pea moaning which came from behind that closed door. Nothing was to be learned through the keyhole, though Pete §lued his eye to it with all the skill of a chambermaid or a waiter. “Oh, lawsee! how’s I ever gwine to find out?” muttered the boy to himself. “Hallo! What’s burst here?’ came a loud voice behind him,@s a strong hand caught him by the collar and lifted him rudely to his fect. “ Keyholing it, hey? you woolly-haired rat! Who the blazes is this impudent little villain?” Pete had been so occupied that he had failed to hear a quick step behind him, and it was with ex- treme surprise and terror that he felthis grasp on his collar and heard this voice in his ear. It was the dreaded accent of Luke Lister. “Tt ain’t nuffin’!’”* whimpered Pete, shrewd enough even in his terror to keep bis faee turned away, “I’m on’y Marse Brown’s boy, down de road, One of,his turkeys got away, an’ he sent me down yere to look arter it.” “And you were looking for a turkey through a keyhole, BOP, : *“Didn’t want to ’sturb de family,” whimpered ete. * Let’s see your face, boy. No use to get a kinkin your neck trying to screw it out of sight. Hallo! Will Wildfire’s Racer. Shoot me if I didn’t think so, So itis you then, you photograph of a total eclipse?” “Ob course it’s me,’’ quavered Pete. Brown’s boy.” “You can’t put that on, you confounded little nig!” and Luke gave the boy a savage shake, “TI know you like a book, And I owe you a jolly set- tling before I'll lev you slip me.” * Heugh!” cried Pete, with a great show of dis- dain. ‘ Ain’t any two little nigs jess ‘like? Nobody neber kin tell one from t’other. Tell you I’s Marse Brown’s boy, and |’s boun’ to have dat turkey.” The moanings from the room had ceased during the latter part of the conversation. Now a queru- lous voice cried out: * Whois there? Is that the doctor?’ “No,” replied Luke. ‘‘ But I have something elso for sore eyes. See here what a prize I have cap- tured.” ‘ He flung open the door, and carried Pete bodily into the room, lifting him by the collar asa New- foundland dog will lift a terrier. The boy cast his fearful eyes about the room. There had been something familiar to him in the voice, and all his curiosity was now swallowed up in dread, Nor was he mistaken. There, stretched upon a bed, lay the form of his old master, Mark Preston. His coat was off and his right arm and shoulder tightly bandaged, But the look of pain upon his face gave way to an expression of savage pleasure on seeing the capture which had been made by his associate. “ Aha!” he cried. ‘* Marse “So you’ve nabbed that snipe, have you? That’s cleyer, I owe the black villain something to remember me by. And I want a little amusement to make me forget this infernal arm, Scorch his back for him, Luke. Make him dante. stp the little vagabond till he capers like a monkey!" “Le’me go! Jess you le’me go! Tell you I's Marse Brown's boy, an’ I wants dat ole turkey!’’ screamed Pete, writhing like an eel in the vigorous grasp of his burly captor. “You don’t know me then, Pete?’ asked Mark with cruel malignity. “Neber see’d you ‘fore! An’my name aren’t Pete, It’s—it’s Jake, Jake Brown’s my name; an’ jess you gim’me dat ole turkey, dat’s all.” “Oh, yes, we'll give you the turkey and_help your memory at the same time,’ answered Luke, dragging the boy over to where a thick leather strap lay upona chair. * We'll have a little music, and seeif you are good at a jig.” A shade of pallor showed through all the duski- ness of the boy’s countenance. He knew the un- » scrupulous nature of the men into whose hands he had fallen, and that they would have no mercy on him, And he knew as well that there was little use to scream for help. Only ecentonslls an. traveler went past that solitary house. He might be sound- ly beaten before he could attract auy one’s atten- tion, At this moment the roll of approaching wheels came to their ears. “Dar he comes now!’ ejaculated Pete. “ You bess le’me go, Dat’s Marsa Brown's kerridge. He's arter dat ole turkey, you bet!” The carriage stopped at the door. “*Tt’s the doctor,” said Luke, listening intently. “Then get rid of the boy at once!’ cried Mark. “Lock him up somewhere out of sight. Wecan have it out of him afterward.” A yell came from Pete’s lips at this intimation of their malignant intention. But Luke prevented any further alarm by clapping bis disenzaged hand tightly on the boy’s mouth, while he lifted him as acat would lift a mouse, and carried him up another flizht of stairs, depositing him in a sort of garret. In a twinkling he had tied a thick bandage around the boy’s mouth, effectually choking the stream of his eloquence. With equal celerity he tied his limbs, leaving him on the floor in a helpless bundle. The wna,
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Ge ar —~An Will Wildfire’s Racer. 12 next minute he retreated from the room, locking the door behind him, while Pete remaimed alone with his by no means pleasant reflections. — ite The boy, in fact, had no objections to remaining for a while quiescent. He was exhausted with his struggles, and lay, breathing heavily, while from be- low sounds of steps and voices came to hig keen ears. Some fifteen or twenty minutes passed in this en- forced quiet. But at the end of this time Pete began to move uneasily in his bonds. : “Dar ain’t no use waitin’ yere,” he said to himself. “*Tain’t plum-puddin’ I's a-waitin’ for.” ; The bonds had been placed around the boy’s limbs too hastily to be effectual. It was not ten minutes before he had one hand free. Five minutes more completed the task, and he stood uprig t, in full freedom, But he was far from being safe yet. The door would not yield to his utmost efforts. There was a fireplace in the room. leading into a wide chimney, Into this he endeavored to fcrce himself, in hopes of making itan avenue of escape. But it proved far too narrow, and he only succeeded in tearing his coat into tatters, and covering himself from head to foot with soot, which scemed the accumulation of half a century, But one other avenue remained. This was a sort of dormer window, opening onto asteep roof. The boy was agile as a monk y, and was soon out upon oe roof, up which he quickly clambered to the ridge, But he was as far from escapeasever. There was no lower roof visible to which he could descend, no tree he could reach, no strong vine or cther means of descent, He sat here for a full hour, surveyin; rounding country, and determined that i ter wanted him he might come after him, At the end of that time the carriage drove away again. But Pete bad just seen something of more interest to him, This was the familiar figure of a horseman, approaching from the direction of the city. ‘the boy vow climbed upon the chimney, for a more extended observation. He was not mistaken, 7 a his master, Will Wildfire, slowly ascending e hill, the sur- Leke Lis- CHAPTER VII, LUKE LISTER MEETS HIS MATCH. Luxe Lisrsr, the doctor havmg departed, began to think again of his postponed revenge on Pete, His patient had become much easier in consequence of his arm being set and properly bandaged, and himself suggested a return to the amusement which had been temporarily laid aside. A muffled sound from above hastened TLuke’s movements. Pete must have got rid of his gag, and would raise the country by its cries if he was not looked after. But it was with no small surprise that Luke, on unlocking the door, found but an empty room be- fore him. His prisoner had disappeared! “What in the sun has become of the young rat?” he asked himself. ‘‘Ha! I see. The window is open. He has worked himself loose and taken to the roof.” A single look proved the truth of this idea. There sat Pete, astride the chimney, looking eagerly down ee the road. A grim laugh came from the villain’s ips. “What a I'ttle devil it is," he muttered. “ He: there, boy? S'pose you just wheel around, and tod- dle down this way. You're wanted.” “Guess not,” saucily returned Pete. “TI jess climb up yere to take a look for Marse Brown’s tur- key. Got to see dat bird ‘fore ever I takes one step down.” . Come down, I say,” was the imperious order, Yere I is,” replied Pete. ‘Guess I won’t leave less vit. “TI bet high you do,” was the savage response. “Tf you don’t toddle down quicker than lightning, look out for a lift.”” Pete turned quickly at these significant words; and found himself looking directly into the muzzle of a pistol, lt was a very convincing form of argu- ment. He experienced a sudden change of opinion. “You needn't be pokin’ out yer pistols,” he ex- claimed. “Don’t you see l’se a-comin’? Don’t b'lieve dat ole turkey’s yere, anyhow.” Pete slid along the ridge until above the window, and then let himself glide slowly down the steep slant. He was not particularly afraid of his antago- nist, for he had seen movements outside, of which the latter was unaware. As he came opposite the window, Luke grasped him by the collar and drew him within. “So; you’ve been takint an airing, have you?’ asked the burly villain. ‘You need a dustin, ROW, after being so long on the roof. Come along.” But it was not Pete he held, but only Pete's tat- tered coat. The boy had slipped like an eel out of the torn garment, and stood grinning at his discom- fited foe. He might easily have reached the door and escaped, but he made no effort to do so. “Guess you mought keep dat coat,’ said Pete. ‘*°-Tain’t my Sunday best, anyhow.” Luke glared at the tattered and soot-covered coat for an instant, and then flung it fiercely at the boy, making a _— movement at the same time, so as to cut off his escape by the door. ad “What sort of a game do you call this?” asked a strong, youthful voice near him, ‘1 never saw it played before.” Luke turned hastily. There, leaning easily against the side of the doorway, stood his mortal foe, Will Wildfire, looking on as quietly as if he ‘eally ima- gined that some new kind of game was being played before him. lor an instant the villain remained stupefied with amazement. Then he burst in'o a paroxysm of rage, advancing a step toward his foe, and raising his pistol-hand with a fierce threat. “So you've put your head into the lion’s mouth, ou infernal hound! This is my house, and_my ouse is my castle. You got in here easy. You won't find it so easy to get out.” He lifted the pistol, with see 4 intent in his eyes, But, during this movement Will had not stirre: inch. He still remained, with bis shoulder aRaning against the door-frame, gazing on his enemy with the cynical saure of his first speech. “T hardly think you will pull that trigger, Mr. Luke Lister,” he quietly remarked, * Why won't 1? “Because bluster is cheap; but when it comes to courage you are not there. You had better drop it, and not be making a fool of yourself, as well as a rogue,”’ ; ‘‘Ha! Tam a coward, am If” His face flushed with intense rage as he leveled the weapon, with deadly aim, not six paces from Will’s breast. But the resolute youth did not move, or change a rouscle of his face, His only action was a slight signal with his hand, At the same instant the villain’s aim was sadly dis- concerted. Pete had been creeping forward noise- lessly, and, at the sign from his master, sprung like acat at Luke’s extended arm, The pistol exploded, but the ball went through the floor. ; Simulteneously the quiet ee pie leaped for- ward, caught the wrist of bis antagonist in a vise- like gripe, and with a quick twist. forerd him todrop the weapon. Will caught it as it eps teed st ering back by a vigorous surg ns rene eal the caine a. covered him with the muzzle of the captured revolver. as mes ean rey at that game. Mr. Luke Lister,” he satirically said. “It happens thatI bold the winning hand now. What were you going to do with this © | ie bey Dey was gwine to scorch Pete wid a leather strap,”’ cried the boy,
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Will Wildfire’s Racer. “Ts that true?” “ Ask the nigger, if you want to know,” savagely flinging himself heavily into a chair for you it went no further,”’ rejoined ‘“*T am not much given to threats, but if you e has the replied Luke “Tt is well Will. ever maltreat this boy | will see that chances to pay you back in your own coin. And when I say a thing I mean it. Come, Pete,” He turned his back on his opponent, and walked through the door, with a carelessness that was almost insult- ing. ** Jess put dat in yer pipe an’ smoke it,”’ said Pete, with his tongue in his cheek. as he walked backward after his master. He was not going to trust a treacherous antagonist, however heedless his master mizht choose to be. Luke half ros, with the deadly light of revenge in his eyes. But Pete’s keen glince was upon him, and he sunk again into his chair, cowed, despite himself, by the disdainful demeanor of his foe, Careless of the fierce threats which the baffled villain threw after bim, Will pursued his way stead- ily down-stairs and out of the house. There his horse stood, tied to the fenee. Directing Pete to mount behind him, he was off, in a minute more, toward Wildflower Hall. Two days after the events just recorded another scene, which may have some little interest for the reader, was being enacted in a long, level lane, about a half-mile back from the “ Bell.”’ The road was hard and dry, little frequented, and excellently adapted to the purpose for which it was now being used, that of training. “ De old fellow ain't forgot how to ride yet,” said black Pomp, with a husky laugh, as he climbed into asulky behind a restive horse, which Charley Lloyd was holding by the bridle. It was an animal of a glossy black hue, highly groomed, yet to ordinary eyes, not very promising so far as spe2d was concerned. It certainly had not the build of a racer, its limbs being short and full, its body inclined to stoutness, while the whole con- formation of the animal was i skort for a track horse. Black Bess, for it was she, impressed you with a sense of heaviness and lack of activity, which was only negatived by the flerce light in her eye, and a restless spirit which kept her in constant motion. “* Won’t some chaps git, sold when dey lay dar bets °e’in disecritter!” laughed old Pomp, as he took firm hold of the reins, and leaned forward in true jockey fashion. ‘Look yar, Pete. Jess you see how de ole man grabs de reins. Double yerself up a bit, but don’t you be too hard on Bess’s mouth,’coz she won’t stan’ no such foolin’. And mind you don’t tetch her. Ain’t no sort 0’ use’tryin’ to putsperit in her. She’s got plenty. Jess chirrup when you want her to go, an’ let up on d+ reins.” . The host of the Blue Boll now released the restive animal, who sprung at once into a quick trot, dart- ing alonz the straight lane at a speed which she had hardly promised. “Yaw! yaw!’ came back oll Pomp’s hoarse laugh, his heart warmed up to its ancient spirit as he saw the noble creature, without an ounces of waste effort, darting along with a mighty stride, that rapidly consumed the ground beneath her, Charley Lloyd looked on with approving eye. He had taken out his watch, and had his eye fixed on the dial plate. “She is not down to her speed; but she cught to make a good miie at that pace,” he remarked. “No one can tell what go there is in that creature till she is put side by side with some other fast traveler.’’ “Monght make it in 2:40 at that gait,” answered Pete, with a critical air. It was not long before the horse was seen return- ing, at a noble pace, while the gray-haired jockey iped the reins firmly with both hands, an air of infinite satisfaction upon his face. "She’s jess a rattler)” cried Pomp, bringing her easily up. ‘‘ Neber rid ’hind a neater goer. Whats’ her time?” “Three minutes, to the notch,” answered the landlord. “Took a good half minute to stop and turn, up de lane,” explained Pomp. ‘‘Didn’t push de hoss. neider, She'll jess beat 2:20, sure as we’re standin’ yere. Mr. Lloyd smiled, but said nothing, ‘Jump up into de sulky, now, Pete,” cried Pomp. “You’s got de ole man’s ’zample to go by. Bo mighty suah to tall orders. Gib de hoss her head, and if she don’t fetch you out first chop, dar ain’t no use talkin’,”” There was a proud look on Pete's face as he climb- ed like a cat into the sulky, and grasped the reins. “Sit well back,” cautioned the Jandlord, ‘“* Have you got good foothold?” “ Solid as a rock,” answered Pete. “Keep her in the middle of the track. Watch her head well; I am a little afraid she may be tricky. Grip the reins with a death-grip, Pete.” “Ay, ay! Let us!’’ was the boy’s impatient an- swer. The landlord loosed his hold, stepped quickly back, and the impatient horse was off again like an arrow, with as much vim as if she had not already just made her mile, “Sound bottom, er muttered the host, as he followed her critically. No prouder little negro than Pete could haye been found that day within the limits of Philadelphia. A whoop of delight burst from his lips as the swift creature got down to her work, darting along with an arrowy speed that made the landscape glide past like a shadow, Black Bess stretched her neck well forward, her body sinking into a crouching attitude, her limbs. thrown forward at every stride with a mighty reach, She seemed to enjoy the work quite as fully as did the whooping little hopeful behind her. “Hi dar! CVlar de track!"’ Pete suddenly cried, as some horsemen appeared in the road before him, *Can’t a Black Bess, and dar’s boun’ to be a smash-up if you don’t git.” The horsemen evidently thought sotoo, They drew out to one side of the way, and keenly watched the rocket-like steed which was rushing like the wind upon them, With a wild whoop Pete passed them, darting by like a flash. ‘“*What do you think now?” asked Will Wildfire, who was one of the equestrians, ‘ Isn’t there go in Black Sess?” “More than T thought from her build,” answered Pierce Browning. ‘‘ But she has some fast trotters to work against.” “She is going to be the winner of the Suffolk “What do you say, races,” said Will, confidently, Charley?” “TI think she has it in her,” answered Charley Lloyd, whom tiey had now joined, e@ conversation was very soon interrupted by the return of Pete and his team. The boy had perfect command of the well-trained animal, drawing her up with ease out of a fast trot. He sprung lightly from the sulky, crying out: “Dar ain’t no use-concoctin’. Black Bess is de belle of de ball, and everybody else best git off do floor. Squar’ away!” CHAPTER VIII AT THE POOL ROOMS, A LARGE throng was gathered at Mace’s, an excit- ed crowd, who seemed to be each trying to outtalk all of the others. But where and what is Mace’s? You must not ask any sporting character that ques- tion, if you do not want to be laughed at for your ignorance. It is the headquarters of the betting fra- ternity, and the center of that new mode of invest- ing spare cash on the result of games and races, called pool-selling, oe Sa
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a Will Wildfire’s Racer. But a few days remained before the Suffolk Park raccs, an event of great importance to the sporting world, for some horses of great reputation were to be placed upon the track—no such rare goers as Goldsmith Maid,it is true, but some prime travel- ers, “ There’s no use squirming,”’ cried one individual, who occupied a chair in the rear of the room. “Lady Clare is booked as the winner. Why, hang it all! have any of you ever seen her on her mvttle?” “ve seen her record,” replied another; ** 2:20 is her best time.” “That with a hook! Just you back her against 2:18 if you want to makea stake. She led Rover two good lengths in her last race.”’ “She ought to be handicapped,” said a third, “A walk-over is no race at all, The pools will be ten to one in her favor before the day of the race.” “What other horses are entered for the mile heats?” asked a curious bystander. “Three other animals, of no record,” was the con- temptuous a “They are named Stonewall, Hardy, and Black Bess. The last is the only one that is known about here. They say it is a chance if sne can come inside the 2:25 limit.’ “What fool ever entered such a horse as that?” asked a tall person, of gigantic frame, who was lean- ing lazily against a window. * Will Wildfire is the owner, You may know him. A roya! good oarsman; but he knows nothing about horses.” “Him? Not much!” cried a young, foppishly- dressed individual, who was pushing through the crowd, flourishing a handful of bauk notes. “* Why, his horse has no more shape than a toad.” “ Are you laying bets against her?’ quietly asked the large speaker. “Five to one, if there is a man here dares take —_ and the fop again flourished his handful of notes. “Tl take that bet,’ was the reply. “ Y ou 99 One hundred to five. Or maybe you'd like to make it thousands?” : “Hundreds let it be. And we'll put the stakes in Mace’s hands. Iam going to rake in that hundred, my friend.” “Allright. But I never go back on odds like that. A chap always has a chance you know.” There was a covert smile on Pierce Browning's face, for it was he, He evidently thought it oS robable that the enthusiastic young man would be ught a lesson before he got through with bim. Pierce lounged easily through the excited and loud- talking ‘owe after putting up the money for this t. The rattling of voices was almost deafening, a dozen broken sentences reaching the ear at once, so that no consecutive sense could be made of it. “Lost his wheel turning—Lady Clare’s pace-—yes, trotting under the high bridge, when—deuce of a fine pacer—offered two to one and no takers—good jockey, but his hand—hasn’t bottom for a five-mile e: And soon. Such was the hodge-podge conversd- tion that assailed Pierce’s ears as Be made his slow way throngh the earer multitude, “ Hey, Ben!” he cried, as a familiar face met his view. ‘‘ Have you seen Will? There’s a prime opening to-day, if he wants to invest. I have laid over a thou- sand already, at good odds. [hope Iam not going to be made a victim of misplaced confidence.” “There is no back-down in Will,” replied Ben Huntly “He is over yonder investing in pools, Hang him, be bas so much confidence in that brute of his that I didn’t escape the fever myself. I have laid some of my hard-earned cash on Black Bess.” They stood in a doorway, a little out of the throng. ““ | Saw her paces the other day,” said Pierce, qui- etly. “She isa blazing good goer. And that A of a blackbird who is booked to drive her, handles the ribbons like an old stager. He is a regular little 13 dare-devil. There will be a smash-up Somewhere, if any tricky hound tries to countermarch on him.” “But badn’t we best get Will out of this? He is growing too excited.” “Yes, Take him out for a row, Ben, Cool his blood on the Schuylkill.” “Me? Ican’tstirhim. Try your hand; you can do what you yigene with him.” Pierce smiled, and followed Ben through the crowd. They soon came to where » ill Wildfire was the center of a small knot of interested talkers, all gesticulating in warm excitement, “Coax him out,” said Ben. ‘But don’t be too sudden about it. He’s blamed touchy.” Another smile marked Pierce's handsome face, as he shouldered his way easily through the mags. His outstretched hand touched Will’s arm, 2 “Come,” he said, pointing outward with his thumb, and quietly withdrawing his extended arm, Will looked quickly areund, flashed a little at this curt summons. and then broke into a laugh. “Excuse me, gentlemon,” he remarked, ‘* We have our a‘fair settled, and I seem to be waited Don’t fail to be on hand.” Meanwhile Pierce had rejoined his friend, whose face was the image cf astonishment. “So that’s what you call coaxing? A policeman could not be more delice ite about it, And hang me if the boy aint coming! But it must be to knock you down for your impudence!”’ Pierce looked quietly down at his massive figure, asif he thought it would take nothing less than a pile-driver to perform that interesting operation. ‘“What am I arrested for?” asked Will, walking uP, with a quizzical smile upon his face. “For losing your head,” replied Pierce, ‘I have no objection to your losing your money, so you doit Hike & panonrpuat. But 1 won't have youlosing your ead. Will stared at his odd friend, and then broke out into a loud laugh. “Well, you are not lacking in coolness, anyhow. How goes it, Ben? What’s on the Dw itu ht * Pierce proposes a row up the Schuy|kill—and say catfish and coffee at the Falls.” 4 “Tam agreeable. I believe I was getting a bit too hot. Will you go along, Pierce?” ‘* Yes—for the catfish and coffee.” In half an hour our trio of friends had reached the river road in Fairmount Park, with its long row of elegantly-built boat-houses, in brown and grecn stone, facing the river. There is probably nowhere a more beautiful situa- tion, or more tasteful appointments for boating pur- poses, than possessed by the Schuylkill Navy, with the.rounded and thickly wooded slope of Lemon Hill to the left, the wide stream to the right, bordered by a broad green parterre on which the neat establish- ments of the boat-clubs have been erected, while adjoining the foot of the hill runs the river road, al- ways covered by its stream of handsome equipages. In ten minutes more they were upon the river, Will and Ben at the oars, and Pierce acting as cox- swain, “T think the stern of a boat just fits my figure,” hesaid. “ And it isso much more comfortable pull- ing the rudder than pulling a Free! of oars, “And comfort is Pierce Browning’s first prin- ciple,” laughed Will, as he adjusted his oars. ““You’ve got it there,” cried Pierce. “If you want to risk your money on a bet you'll find that a safer wager than the trotting capacity of the best horse that was ever foaled.” * “Don’t believe him,” retorted Ben. ‘Look how he deceived all his friends by his astonishing per- formance at the << epee ; fe “No deceit about it,” stoutly affirmed Pierce, ‘I have two principles; comfort and cash. The deuce of it is, it is hard to get the comfort without the cash. I risked my bones on that dreadful occasion to rake in a few bets, that was all.” “Risked your bones?” cried Ben, “ It strikes me
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14 Will Wildfire’s Racer. that it was somebody else’s bones; judging from the slight accident to Mark Preston.” Pierce laughed lazily. “TI hardly believe he will swerve his horse in a lady’s track soon again—at least when I and my ele- phant are by.” They had now got down to their oars, and were sending their long, slender boat swiftly up-stream, with the easy but effective pull of practical oars- men. It was a magnificent September afternoon, with the sunlight lying in great swaths in the stream, and gilding the rolling banks of the beautiful river. There is no stream in the immediate neighbor- hood of a great cit x which nature has done more to adorn than the winding Schuylkill. And art has richly supplemented nature. For this river runs for several miles through the center of Fairmount Park, and the landscape gardener has been busy upon its banks, where he is slowly adding to the wildness of nature the adornments of art. It is yet but in process of transformation, but already many beautiful vistas have been opened, and the on of the native landscape softened and har- onized, A genial influence descended upon the souls of our friends, as they swiftly made their way up the beautiful river. Its surface was dotted with boats, some crawling lazily along the banks, some—mere fragile shells—shooting along like arrows, others— eight and ten-oared barges—leaping under the clock- work stroke of their trained crews. Among these were mingled many awkward squads, who handled the oar with the most pertinacious crab-catching lack of skill. Add to these other boats with lady occupants, the bright colors of their attire contrast- ing brilliantly with the somber garb of their escorts, while songs, softened and sweetened by distance, came from their lips; and we have some idea of the enlivened scene. Passing Columbia's bridge, reaching the racing course above Rockland, the boats thinned out, only a few of the trained oarsmen beiag here visible. “Tt is a mighty odd business about those bur- glaries,”’ remarked Ben, between the easy sweep of his oars. “What is that? I have heard nothing of it,” an- swered Will. “T mean the mysterious burglaries that have been going on for a month now, leaving the police entirely in the dark. The thieves, whoever they pa an mighty skillful. Not a trace of them can be ound,” “) have read something about it,” said Pierce, carelessly. ‘‘ But as I belong to the blessed ones who have nothing to steal, burglary don’t interest “me. ‘We householders are not quite so comfortable,” rejoined Ben. “They went through a house u Fifteenth street last week, and made a happy haul. For them, I mean, not for the poor victims.” “T hope _ will keep clear of Wildflower Hall.” remarked Will. ‘Is that the Falls village ahead?” “Yes,” said Pierce. ‘““Bend to your oars, my jolly boys. I have fatigued myself enough in your service, pulling this heavy rudder right and left, while you have been enjoying yourselves at the oars. claim my reward now in catfish and coffee.” It was not long afterward when they found them- selves by the river wall of a hotel whose grounds extended to the stream, And, ere many minutes more a smoking dish of the apueteing viand for which the “Falls” are celebrated was ona garden table before them, flanked by steaming cups of fragrant coffee. Catfish and coffee, under the shade of giant wil- lows, and in the mild twilight of early autumn, with the low rippling of flowing waters and the soft breath of southwest winds as accompaniments, form a combination not to be despised, And our friends thoroughly enjoyed themselves, “Tf we only had a few of the fair sex, to give tone to our feast, it would be divine,” remarked Pierce, as he sipped the fragrant beverage. “There is nothing like ladies’ eyes to give effect to twilight.” **And catfish,” supplied Will, with a laugh. ‘“‘ But is it not time we were getting back? I havea jour- ney before me, before I reach home.” “Oh! come with me,” said Pierce, ‘I will find you shelter for the night, and an eye-opener in the morning.” The moon rode high in the heavens as they rowed back, down the shadowy reaches of the river, CHAPTER IX. A CONSULTATION AND A BURGLARY. “May the fiends fly away with the brute that broke my arm!” cried Mark Preston, with a sudden outburst of anger. ‘There is blamed little sport in our game if a man has to waste his hours here, while the best bets are making.” He leaned back in an easy-chair, his broken arm = splints, a look of peevish discontent upon his ‘ace. “Oh! you are doing very well,” answered Luke, who stood looking out the window. “The doctor says you may go out to-morrow, if the weather is fine. You will be prime before race day,” “ Wouldn't I like to scorch the chap that run me hl exclaimed Mark, an evil look upon his ace. “Oh! that be dashed! It's all fairin war,’ re- joined Luke. ‘* And you are just as well where you are, for the present,” “ How is that?” “Black Bess stock is down, that’s all. You couldn’t buck against it worth acent. Iam working the field through. The horse is a thunderer, there’s no going back on that. And she is being trained into tip-top condition. I saw her yesterday, all muscle and ac- tion, not an ounce of fat; and she climbed over the track like a bird. They needn’t talk about her oe It’s just-as old Jake says; she’s got win in er. “Then maybe we'd best buck against Lady Clare, and hedge on Black Bess.” * No. The betting field is turning in her favor. I have been sowing seed at Mace’s; and some sharp} goats have been out looking at the beast’s action. ust take me for it, but Black Bess stock will run like a race-stream before the week’s out. You can back all the bets you want against her.”’ Mark sat in silence fora minute. Evidently his thoughts bad taken another turn, for when he again spoke it was with a wide change of subject. * Are you satisfied you can do it, Luke? I will be good for a thousand, the day you put it in my hands.” “Do what?” asked Luke. surprised. “ Strike those papers. ‘She keeps them in the desk Ttold you of. Hang her!” and his voice took a sav- age tone; “I owe this arm to my effort to get_even with her, And that’s not all that I owe Clara More- oS T have sworn to match her play with a better card. / “Oh! that’s where the wind's blowing? I am going to win that thousand. And more. too, if things don’t go wrong. I've done worse jobs inside a month, und it will be odd if TI drop back in this.” “Tf you fail—” “But I won’t fail. I ain’t that kind. The pa- ers—’? ‘*Hush!”” warned Mark. the door.” There was a peculiar fumbling, followed by an un- certain knock, ; “Come in!” cried Luke. “Come in’s easy tersay. But how's a chap to do’t, I'd like ter know? Ain’t I used out a-tryin’? Like ter know where's yer latch?” “There’s somebody at
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-<~ Will Wildfire’s Racer. 15 “Old Jake, forathousand! And drunkas blazes,” ejaculated Luke, as he flung open the door, revealing the form of the old sot, who surged with a stagger- ing motion into the room. « “I'm all correck!” hiccoughed Jake, as he flung himself heavily into a chair, and sprawled out his well-ventilated boots over the floor, ‘‘Jist had a snoozer down to Charley Lloyd's, He's a prime fel- ler, He’s jist guns, Charley is.”’ “He didn’t kick you out of doors to-day, then?” “Like ter see ‘im do’t!” cried Jake, with an awk- ward squaringof hisarms. ‘Like ter see the man in Darby, or in Kingsess, or in—” “Why, hang it, Jake,he kicked you out yester- day,” broke in Mark, “Yisterd’y be fizzled! Let yisterd’y take care ’f yisterd’y; an’ that's Scriptoor. One day’s ’nough to think on vonet.” * How about Black Bess?” asked Luke. “Don’t say nary word,” whispered Jake, with a cunning look, and a ludicrous attempt to wink both eyes at once. *‘*Mebbe Jake don’t s leep in the hay- mow, an’ mebbe he ain't got the run *f the stable? Hush! nary word, It’s all primed.” “Look out for old Pomp.” “What! That sassy nigger? Like ter see 'im say beans t? me. I slap his old jaw ef he said beans, d’yer hear that? Old Pomp! Pooh! Much I keer for him!” Jake snapped his fingers in supreme contempt of his antagonist, of whom he stood secretly in in- tense awe, “Where is Black Bess stalled?” Jake held up bis left hand with the fingers spread, and slowly counted over them with the right, the Rs cat swaying beneath him like a ship at sea as he id so. ‘*One—two—four. No, bla’ me, three. Le’ me see. Sure that’s three?” “That's three.” “Well, s‘long’s you say so, Could ’a’ sworn ‘twas four, Three? Yes, reckon 'tis, Well, the hoss—"’ The sentence was not finished, for the rocking legs of the chair suddenly lost their balance, tipping its drunken peconany onto the floor, Jake scrambled up in intense disgust, and stood looking down angrily eae the chair. “Tf I thought *twer did a-purpose!” he ejaculated. “Nice way to treat a gemman. A blazin’ old cheer like that, that’s got hinges in’ts legs! Shoot yer double-j'inted furn’ture, or any such new-fangled ‘ventions! Won't squat down on’t 'g’inif yer gim me a cow.” “T hardly believe you would appreciate a cow,” laughed Mark. ‘‘ Cow’s milk isn’t your favorite bey- erage. But I'll tell you this, Jake, you've got to keep sober till after the race, orI’ll serve you worse than Charley Lloyd does.” The old chap raised his bleared eyes with a look of offended dignity. : 4 S"pose a chap kin take a snoozer when he runs 0 an angel?’’ he muttered, swaying unsteadily on his feet. ‘Don’t know as anybody’s ’toxicated here, Sure I ain’t, anvhow,” “Hold your tongue, you maudlin old villain, Why the drink is oozing out of your finger-ends!” said Mark, severely. “See here, now, once for all, our bargain’s off, if you let another drop pass your lips till after the race.” “ Ain’t drunk nothin’ but buttermilk th’ s’mornin’, Sw’ar I ain’'t—ye-yes; had one snoozer; ’knowledge one snoozer, S'pose I kin take a topper-off? I'll sw’ar off for one week if ye'll jist gimme the taste ’f old rye in my mouth,” “ Give him a drink, Luke,” answered Mark, with a f= smile; ‘‘and lock him up somewhere to sleep imself sober, T want to have a talk with him when he &ets his senses back.” Th’ old man’s kinder pisses out. Was up all night,” muttered Jake, rubbing his sleeve across his mouth with a habitual motion, ‘Yes; don’t keer, 's long’s you say so,” He followed Luke from the room, his eyes lighting up in blissful anticipation of the promised whisky. But leaving old Jake to his drink and his snooze, and the villains to their plots, we must step forwar somewhat in time, and to another locality, to follow the actions of two others of our friends, It was almost midnight. From the open doors of the Academy of Music a fashionable throng was rapidly emerging, the sheen of rich dresses and the flash of jewels glittering brilliantly under the clustering gaslights. The opera of Faust had just ended, and a crowded audience was rapidly making its way to carriages and cars, eager to get home to dreams of the divine music to which they had just listened, One couple separated themselves from the throng, and walked rapidly up Fifteenth street to a noted confectionary establishment in that locality. “We are ahead of the crowd. ‘That is some com- fort,” said Will Wildfire, for it was he. ‘We will have a chance for cur ice without a freeze in waiting forit. ‘Tbe night air is nipping. Had you not bet- ter draw your shaw! closer?” “Oh, nol I am not at allscold,” replied Clara Moreland, his companion, ‘“ Who could be, after the music of Faust. Why, I feel warmed through and through by it.”’ “It certainly don’t have that effect on me,” laugh- ed Will. **I think you need anice, Let’s trip along, for they are crowding on our track.” Clara’s face was warm with joy and enthusiasm as they sat together in the restaurant, which speed- Fn with people. It was not alone the music which thus animated her, The happy light in her eyes had a deeper source than this. And it was not without its reflection in Will’s eves, which he could not help but fix upon the charming face of his beau- tiful companion. are than a half-hour had passed ere they left the table. “I declare I dic not know it was so late!’ exclaim- ed Clara, looking at her watch after they had ob- tained a seat in a latecar. ‘* Why, it will be past one before we reach home,” “You can sleep the later in the morning,” an- swered Will. ‘‘Heigh-ho! I hope those burglars who have been so busy lately won't take the opportunity to rob my house. My aunt is bard of hearing, you know; and they might carry off the rooms bodily without her knowing it.” * Rut your servant?” “You could as easily waken up an oak log, There never was such a sleeper.” “Oh! well. it’s lucky you didn’t advertise ‘all this, If oe thieves only knew it they might pay you a visit.” Clara laughed, and began to hum an air from the opera, Evidently she was in no gr‘ at dread, It was, as she had said, past one o'clock when they reached the street in which she resided. Will accompanied her to the door, which he open- ed for her with her latch-key. “Will you not come in for a little while?’ she asked, ‘'You must be cold. You werenot warmed up like me by the music you remember.” “Cold? Ona night li'e this? And with vod fora companion?” cried Will, gallantly. “1 should be ashamed to acknowledge it.” ae pre ated, and slightly poet , not imagine—” she ® paused, holding up her hand attentively. ‘‘ What that?” she whispered. Will listened a moment. “ Stand here,” he quickly said, ‘‘T will see,” He dashed into the hall and back to the rear of the house, whence came the eg, noises which had alarmed them. There was a light burning x the kitchen. The back door stood open. A quick, shuffling sound reached his ears. ~ Heedless of danger Will pushed forward, through
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16 Will Wildfire's Racer. the house and into the yard which lay in the rear. He was just in time to catch a glimpse of a form disappearing through the gate. Ere he could reach the latter he heard the quick sound of wheels. A wagon was being driven out of the narrow alley which ran back of the row of houses. “Stop thief!” yelled Will, dashing forward at the <a of his speed. he whip was plied on the horse, but he could_not get to full speed in that narrow avenue, and Will caught up just as the team was turning into the wider street beyond. A loud ery of alarm a came from the young man’s lips. ar. the back part of the light * wagon, an agile leap, in which his gymnastic train- ing stood him in good stead, landed him in the ve- e. At the same instant the driver sprung outin front, and ran quickly down the street, throwing the reins out of Will’s reach. Heedless of danger the young man followed him, But the fugitive had too much start, and eluded him by darting through some shadowy court. Losing sight of him, Will soon gave up the chase and returned to the street where he had left the wagon. A ge gg warned by his cry, had just stopped his horse. lt was a light-built covered wagon, only suitable for conveying moderate loads. Io a few hurried words Will explained to the guardian of the peace what had occurred. And it needed but a moment's inspection to discover that the burglars had been busily at work, for the vebicle was half-filled with articles of household utility. Leading it back to the house they found the family all up, and in intense alarm, Clara presented a very white face as she cried to Will: “They have broken into my desk and stolen my most valuable papers! I would not lose them for _ the world!” “They may be in the wagon,” replied Will, enter- ing upon an inspection of its contents. There was silverware, clothing, bed-linen, china, a mixed variety of articles—but no papers. * They are not here,” announced Will. “Something must be done! They must be recov- ered!” she excitedly exclaimed. “We have the horse and wagon,” suggested the officer. “They may help us to trace the burglars.” CHAPTER X. BLACK BESS AND HER KEEPERS. Op Pomp was busily engaged rubbing down Black Bess. She had been out for her morning's exercise, and was warm and excited. The ancient jockey, with his white hair, and the bend in his shoulders that arose from long leaning forward over the dasher, was proud of his charge, a very evident satisfaction showing itself in his wrinkled and sable features. “ Hosses is hosses, I s’pose,” he said. ‘‘But dat ain't sayin’ as ebery hoss is a trotter. Mought as well tell me dat ebery pig kin play eucher. A hoss like Black Bess ain’t none of yer common folks of hoss-critters, Jesslook at her eye now! An’ whar was dere eber such satin as dat skin?” He rubbed his wrinkled hands as gently over her glossy hide as if he was fondling a lady’s cheek, while a broken laugh came from his lins. “ Folks say de bats islayin’ heavy ’g’in’ Black Bess. Lawsee won't dar be fun when she gits on de track? Bet dar’s gwine to be some eyes opened. D n't tell me ’bout yer Lady Clares an’ yer Rovers! I’s seen de best steppers dat eber toed de track, an’ Ioughter know somefin "bout hoss-flesh.”” “You seen ole Jake ‘round lately?” asked Pete, mysteriously, as he looked cautiously about him. ‘Dat ole bloat! S’pose I bodder myself *bout him? Nary much,” ‘*T jess done tole you what he was arter,” cried Pete indignantly. ‘* An’ you's fergetted it a'ready. Ain’t he gwine to p'ison Black Bess, or put her out de race somehow?” * Are you sure of this, Pete?” asked Mr. Lloyd, who stood by. “If I thonght it was really so, I'd put Jake out of the race first by breaking every bone in his ugly hide.” “*Couldn’t sw’ar to it,” answered Pete. ‘Hearn *em talkin’, but didn’t cotch de whole confab. But jess you b’lieve me. Don’t trust ole Jake roun’ whar dat hoss is.” “Tell me if you see him fooling about the stable. Pomp,” said the landlord. “I am not much afraid of him, but it is better to be sure than sorry. By the way, Pete, they are making objections to your driv- ing in the race.” ‘Dey are?” cried Pete indignantly. ‘‘ Like ter know why. Bet none of ‘em kin beat me handlin’ de ribbons. Ain’t druv hosses two years, an’ them all racers fer nothin’.”’ ‘It’s not that. The trouble is about your weight. It’s no handicap race, and you are thirty pounds lighter than the other jockeys.” “*Can’t dey weight me?” asked Pete. “Let ’em put ten poun’ in each boot, an’ ten poun’ more in my hat, if dey can’t manage to do oder way.” “We will try and get it fixed,” replied Mr. Lloyd. “The lass trots well under you, and itis too late to get her used to another driver. They must take you,”’ “« Jess say de word, an’ l’ll make my breakfass on east iron an’ my dinner on cobble-stones,”’ asserted Pete. ‘J’s boun’ to ride dat race or bu’st.” While this conversation was taking place in the stable of the Blue Bell, a conference, bearing on the same subject, was going on in the smoking-room at Wildflower Hall. Several of Will’s most intimate friends were pres- ent, Pierce Browning, Ben Huntly, Harry Waters, and one or two others. They were seated around a table on which stood glasses and an open bottle of wine, flanked by a tray of cigars. Pierce had taken his usual attitude, his chair tilted back at a dangerous angle, while light clouds of cigar smoke wreathed airily around his bushy head. The others had assumed various attitudes of ease, and the air of the room was hazy with the pungent vapor of the Indian weed. “Tt is just as I said,’ remarked Ben, laughingly. “Tt is a catching fever. Pierce has taken it bad.” “ All right,’’ replied Pierce, easily. ‘‘I am not in- sured against it.’ - “Do you know,” continued Ben, winking to the others,” he is wasting his substance on Black Bess? I don't know how many thousand he has laid on her now.’ “I don't know myself,” responded _ Pierce, follow- ing with his eye a wreath of smoke. “ There it goes, up. up, up. Don’t be toying to blow it down, eta fellow be happy while he may.” “The lady is going to win that race,” said Will, positively. ‘* Why, bless you, boys, I’ve got her sad- dled with a large slice of my fortune. Do you fancy I will let her failnow?” ‘*T hear some talk about the little darky you have at the ribbons,” remarked Harry Waters. ‘Is it unite safe, Will, to trust a boy like that with a racer? hat can he know about horses?” __ “He is a natnral jockey,” replied Will. “He takes to horses like a kitten to milk. And he has been in steady training at driving for two years now. You see, old Pomp has taken the boy in hand, He can drive the ugliest brute in Charley Lloyd’s stables.” “And what Pomp don’t know about horses isn’t worth knowing,” broke in Ben Huntly ‘“*But will they let him drive?” asked Harry. ‘He is under weight.” : “That can be fixed,” answered Will, easily, ‘‘ But come, boys. you are not doing duty to the sherry. There stands the bottle as disconsolate as a lamb that has lost her mother.”
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Will Wildfire’s Racer. 17 **T don’t hear it bleating,’ remarked Ben. “You shall, then,” said Will, tipping the bottle vill the wine gurgled over into aglass, * Itis too old a brand to make much noise over it, you see. Come, Ben, wash that joke down or you will never appre- ciate it.” and he forced the brimming glass into Ben’s hand. “Here, fellows,” he con inued, filling the glasses, “let us drink success to Black Bess. I know you will allrespond to that toast. Here’s to the lass that’s booked to win the race!" “Success to her heels, and to my bets,’ cried Pierce, as he swallowed the light wine at a mouthful. “ Hang it, I could waste a river of sherry in the same cause.” “There’s so much more of you than of common folks,” remarked Harry, while Will quietly refilled Pierce’s glass. “Yes; that’s a joke which it seems to me that I have heard somewhere before,” retorted Pierce, as he balanced the light glass between finger and thumb. “It’s light, like sherry. Ican take them down together, and no danger of strangling.” “And you are heavy, like port,” replied Harry, laughing. “Go on,” rejoined the giant, leaning back in his chair. ‘It amuses you, and it don't hurt me, as the man said, when he let his wife broomstick him.” “T say, Will,” cried Ben, ‘how about that bur- glary? Has there been any clew found to the vil- Jains?” “No. They have given us the slip.” “You captured their wagon, eh? And all the goods init? I don’t see that there is any loss, then; and you are a horse and wagon the winner.” ‘The papers have not the whole story,’’ said Will, quietly. ‘* Miss Moreland’s private documents are missing. Some of them of great importance. The thief seems to have been some one who kn w their value, and where to look for them.” “But that should give a clew to the burglars. Maybe her old friend, Mark Preston, is at the bottom of it. What are the police doing abou! it?” “That is's:mething of a seer.t,”’, replied Will. “If it got abroad, it would put the rogues on their guard.’ “It will hardly get out from any one here,” replied Harry. ‘ Weare all true pit, I faney.” “Speak for yourself, Harry,” retorted Pierce. “Hang me, if | ever like to trust myself too far! I don’t. know that I put myself out of the way to tell anybody’s secrets; but they have a confounded sly way of creeping from me. Before | know I have said a word, the whole thing is adrift.” “T am not much afraid of you,” laughed Will. “ As for the police, they are trusting to the memory of the horse. They are driving him on all the roads that lead out of the city, with the notion that he will let them know when he gets near home,” “That's not bad,” cried Ben, ‘ Any sign yet?” “No. They have tried him out at the Ridge, the Frankfort Pike, and some other roads, but they seem all strange to the animal.” “It will end like the sure clews of the police al- ways end,” rejoined Pierce, rising with a yawn, “Won't amount to a pinch of snuff, you will find that. Come, gentlemen, let’s stretch our limbs a little. It is too fine to keep within doors.” They followed him out into the porch, where a soft southwest air was gently lifting the tendrils of the vines, and beyond which, on lofty arbors, a wealth of grapes hung purpling in the sun, But let us return again to the stables of the “ Bell,” Pomp had been for some time through with his la- bors, and was resting on the porch of the hotel, re- tailing to Pete some of his old experience on the turf, In the stables Black Bess stood tranquilly in her stall, munching at her feed, while nearly a dozen horses. right and left of her, were engaged in the same pleasant occupation. And eyerything was lovely about that locality, even to the pigeon that sat cooing on the roof of the shed, the chicken that stood on one leg in the horse- trough, fondly fancying it a fence-rail, and the lazy old veteran who leaned so supinely against the side of the stable. A veteran he was, buf not of buman wars, His service had been performed against bat nen and he had been conquered much oftener than he had over- come his fiery antagonist, But for once old Jake was sober. Sober for him, that is—as sober as a whisky-barrel can be when emptied of its contents, but with all its timbers thor- oughly soaked in strong liquor. * Too nice a day to stand outin the sun,” mutter- ed Jake tohimself. ‘ And sunlight never was good for my constitution. Guess I'll go inside,” But his movement toward the stable door was not his usual bold advance. It was more of aslow glide, broken by intervals of rest and of winking at the blinking hen, Evidently he wanted to give any chance observer the idea that he was utterly without an ob- ject in the world; and, as usual, took the very wrong means to do so, The stable door was not locked. He opened it with lazy caution, and slipped in, pulling it to after him. et despite his care a slight noise was made in this evolution, causing Pete to lift his head. His vigilant ear had caught the sound from the direction of the stable, Meanwhile Jake moved through the stable with much less show of lazy Ieck of purpose. He listen- ed for a moment to the champing of the horses, to hear if any human sound mingled with it, Then he walked straight to the stall of Black Bess, touching her gently with his hand. The intelligent anim almoved uneasily, instinctively feeling that this was no accustomed touch, ine “ W'oa, Bess? W’oa, gal,’’said the intruder, strok- ing her sleek side. ‘Easy, easy, sweetheart, It’s only old Jake. Don’t stir, sweet. Got something nice for you.” He worked his way toward the horse’s head, she still trampling uneasily. She looked around at him, with a gleam of savage light in her eyes. Kvidently the creature suspected the presence of an enemy in this creeping figure beside her. “Steady, steady,” muttered Jake, soothingly. “Easy, gal. Don't know old Jake? You oughter know old Jake.” “Tiknow old Jake,” came a stern voice behind Be Be You black-hearted old bloat, come out of here ! A vigorous hand caught him at the same instant by the collar, and with one jerk landed him in the middle of the stable floor, In an instant the old fellow was drunk again to all appearance, his limbs growing limp, his voice maudlin. ““Reckon yain’t done no harm, Y'needn't jerka feller outer his boots,” he ejaculated, ‘ Yar abe} old hoss, Jist coaxin’ him up a bit ’cause he looked so lonely, kinder.” ‘Looked lonely, did he?” cried Charley Lloyd, still grasping the old chap’s collar. ‘* Bet I make you look lonely before I am done with you ” And he applied his boot to Jake’s body with a vim and rapidity of action equal to old Tony Weller'’s exercise on the parson At the same time he ran him headlong out of the stable, landing him, with one last kick, head-foremost in an odorous heap of manure. * Lie down, you old bloat. And if I catch you in my stable again E will have you locked up for your ains. Lars loud yaw! yaw! from old Pomp, and a shrill ya! va! from Pete. accompanied this maneuver, “ “Dat’s ole Jake’s rations,” cried Pomp. “Ef he totes hisself back yere ag’in, see ’f I don’t smash his head wid de pitehfolk, sure’s you live,” The diseomfited conspirator picked himself up and limped painfully away. followed by the jeering laughs and gibes of old Pomp and his pupil,
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is Will Wildfire’s Racer. CHAPTER XI, SPORT AND EARNEST, “You may talk as you please, but Will Wildfire's horse is bound to carry off that race. Iwasout with Joe Bundy to sce her action, You know Joe? What other folks know about horses is what Joe has for- otten. Well, Joe says she’s got win in her, and TU ack Joe’s opinion with my money any day.” “TI would jump for the chance, if I were you,” was the reply. ‘The horse ain’t worth shucks. I’ve seen her going. Why, her figure is enough to con- demn her.” The speaker was Mark Preston. His face was very pilo. His broken arm in splints, was hung in a tight sling, which left no freedom cf motion. “Take my advice; don’t bet on it,’ answered the first speaker. “Tll goa thousand on it. with any man that dare bet me. And rake it in too,” cried Murk positively. “Tl take that bet,” repliedthe other. ‘‘ But I warn you in advance that IT! ave a sure thing of it. I don’t want to rob you, Mark.” “*Much you'll rob me,” exclaimed Mark, excitedly * Shatl I book the bet?” “Yes If you are bound to get rid of your money I might as well fall heir to as any one else.” There was a hollow sound in the laugh with which Mark received this remark. “When I find atub winning in a race with a clip- per, then I will take Black Bess stock; but not sooner,” he asserted. The bet booked, Mark moved on through the throng. s’rinking from any c°n'act with his injured arm, but eagerly listening to allcomments on the comingrace, Since the date of our last visit to Mace’s there has been a considerable change in public opinion. Black Bess’s performances in training had become the talk of the town, and she was becoming thefavorite. In the pools she had gradually reached par with Rover and Lady Clare, and now stood at a premium above all other competitors. In private bets odds were laying in her favor. It was now the afternoon be- fore the day of the race, and the betting had grown quite heavy. A good deal of money was likely to change hands on the performances of the best time trotters. The matches between second-rate horses were neglected as the tide of feeling ran higher on the three brag racers, Ben Huntley touched Will Wildfire on the arm, and motioned him to follow to a room out of the crowd, “ As sure as you live, Will, you were right. There is some deviltry afloat,” exclaimed Ben, as soon as they were out of ear-shot. “Deviltry? Where, how, and when?” asked Will, in surprise. “About the raco, I mean. I_thought you were seared without cause, at first. Bus I will bet high now, that there is bottom to it.” ‘What has happened, Ben?” “Don’t you see? Yonder is Mark Preston, looking like a ghost, and his arm hardly begun to heal. It is no trifle that has brought him out on the betting floor to lay odds against Black Bess, He is taking every bet that offers.” “Against Black Bess?” *Yos. I heard him lay a thousand, even up, not ten minutes ago. There is something in the wind. Will. He knows what is in the horse, as well as you do. Take my word for it, he is not going to let her win if he can help it.” “T thought so,” replied Will thoughtfully. ‘‘Had 1 better face him with it?” * Face him, the devil, no! This isn’t the place for aknock-down argument. Buttakemy advice, Send word to Charley Lloyd to put a strict guard on the horse to-night She will be poisoned, or sickened in some fashion, if they can get at her. By thunder, I'd Shoot the villain that lifted a hand to burt her.” “*T don’t know but you are right,” said Will, still in deep thought, ‘It does no harm to look out for squalls.” * Write to Lloyd at once. Or send him word. Lend me yourteamand I will runout there myself. It will not do to risk a blunder now.” “Thank you, Ben. I would go, myself, but I am otherwise engaged.’’ With Will Wildfire’s usual habit of striking the iron while it was hot, this project was immediately putinto execution. Ben drove off toward the Bell, while Will took a street car and proceeded up-town to the residence of Clara Moreland. He found the young lady in the parlor, at the piano, singing, in a rich contralto voice, the charm- ing, yet touching song of Heimweh. Her voice lingered on the pathetic passages until her unseen listener felt his heart softened, and a suspicious moisture gathered in his eyes. “Bravo!” he exclaimed, a little ashamed of this involuntary f-eling. ‘* Well done, sweet singer.” She turned hastily at this exclamation and the loud hand-clapping with which Will accompanied it. “Oh, it is you, at last!" she ejaculated, hastily ris- ing. *‘* Where have you been, you sinner. since—” “ Since Tuesday,” supplied Will. “ Why, that is not quite acentury ago. And you are making me sorry enough for it, bringing tears to my eyes with this lugubrious music.” “Don’t slander it now, or I willsend you away again,” she cried, making as she would close his lips with herhand. ‘“Itis just charming, and I could sing it until—until—until I cried like a child.” “And everybody else like babies,” said Will. * But that is not to the purpose. Is there anything further from the police? Have they discovered the lost trace?” “No,” was her reply, in a tone of disappointment. “And I put so much confidencein them, too. I f lt so sure they would track the burglars.”’ “You unsophisticated girl,’ laughed Will, ‘to put confidence in the police? heen b that is wor e thancryingoverasong. But what have they done?” “They say they are sure—from circumstances connected with the other burglaries—that these thieves have their lurking-place somewhere just out- side the city. But the horse has been driven on all the roads leading north and west, without showing any acquaintance with the country, They will next try the roads to the south. If they fail I bardly know what we willdo. I fear my papers will pot be recovered. And what in the world we are to do without them, I cannot conceive. This loss leaves me in the power of Mark Preston again.” * Just take my word for it, he has those papers,” asserted Will, positively. ‘*I don't see just yet how toget at him, but we wil! find some way to prove him the thief.” “Could he be such a villain?” “T fancy he could,” asserted WII. “And worse, if it were necessary. I shrewdly suspect he is trying to injure Black Bess to prevent her racing.” “Good heavens! you can’t think so! What, a i dumb beast, and such a noble creature, too? Why, f could not imagine any one evil e :ough to burt Selim, Only a brute could think of such a thing. “He is equal to any brutality.” rejoined Wit. “But forewarned is forearmed. You will be ready for the race to morrow?” *T would not miss it for the world,” she enthusi- astically replied. ‘ Black Bess is sure to win.” “Tt will be a close contest,” he answered, ‘The horses are evenly matched. I am anything but sure of it, though I have bet beavily on my horse.” “Oh! you are not half a man! To desert your horse at the last hour! Let them distance her before yon ery peccavi!” Her eyes flashed and a fiush of color came into her cheek. Will laughed at her excitement. *T have one sound partisan, that is sure,” he cried gayly. ‘But now for the question of the opera, Are you ready for Lohengrin to-night?” — Pen
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“Oh! I know Ishould enjoy it!” she enthusiastic- ally replied. “But—but Iam afraid to leave the house. You remember the last time.” ; “Why, your house is as safe as a eastle!’’ cried Will. “It is the very last place in the world they would think of returning to now.” “Tf Tcould only make my aunt think so. I fear she has a chronie fright.” ; “Tet me at her,” said Will. ‘I will cure her, if T have to take her to the opera with us.” ; “T fear the cure will be worse than the disease,” she merrily rejoined. ‘Do try some milder medicine first. Why, she would only hear one note in ten, and I would have to hum her the rest. ** You could give her a libretto to read. That takes the place of the music with half the audience, ’ said ‘Will, as he set out in search of the aunt. Whatever line of persuasion he used, at all events he and Clara went to the opera, and alone, It was past one o’clock that night that Will, with the music of Lohengrin still singing in his ears, took to his saddle for his five or six miles ride home. His late companion was already at her dreams, with the music of Lohengrin floating through her visions, when Will crossed the Schuykill at Market street, and rode briskly out into the night. It was thickly overcast, and became very gloomy when he had passed the close line of street lamps. The road to Paschalville was long and uninviting at that hourof the night. Will put his horse to bis paces as he rode out the lonely turnpike, with its sparsely-spread lamps and its occasional long hills. It was not far from two o’clock when he reached the neighborhood of the Bell, his horse’s hoofs sounding loudly in the streets of the sleeping hamlet of Paschalville. The thought of the threatened peril to Black Bess returned to him as be came within sight of the stables containing her. “By Jove!” he said to himself. ‘I v onder if there is anything init! It is too rascally still around here for anything. 1 don’t like such confounded quiet. No doubs Ben put them on their guard, but if looks to me asifeverybody was sleeping on his post. He had checked his horse, and sat a moment in deep thought. “There is no use in rousing up the house,”’ he con- tinued. “But I will try the stable door. I can, at anv rate, see if it has been tampered with.” With Will the thought was the deed, In a moment he had sprung from his horse, thrown the bridle on the neck of the trusty animal, and was approaching the quiet-seeming stable. Reaching the door, he gave itaslight pull. It resisted. “That seems all right, anyhow,” he muttered, pulling more strongly. | Something within yielde7, and fell with a loud noise. At the same instant the door flew wide open in Will’s hand. Simultaneously peculiar rusbing sounds arose in the stable, followed immediately by the sharp rep >rt of B pistol Will released his grasp of the door, staggered a step or two back, and f Il prostrate. In a second afterward the rushing sound came to the stable door, and a form leaped headlong out, followed by another pistol-shot. The fugitive pitched forward at this shot, falling heavily to the arth, - At the same moment Will’s horse, frightened by these two sharp reports, broke into a ra nid gallop, his iron boofs descending heavily upon the form of the prostrate fugitive, who lay just before him. ‘A loud groan broke upon the air of the nixht, echoed only by the dashing sound of the flying horse’s tread as be rushed at full speed along the deserted road CHAPTER as SS IN DANGER. We must go Dock a few hours to trace the events leading to this sudden catastrophe at the Bell sta- Will Wildfire’s Racer. | . 29 bles. Ben Huntly had not failed to carry out his part of the programme, and had warned the pro- prietor of the Bell that extra vigilance was necessa- I¥s “Heugh! don’t you be a bit ‘feard "bout dat!” cried old Pomp on learning that such fears were en- tertained. "Jess leab de ole dark’ 10 settle ‘em, You bet dey won’t kick up no consquabulations bout yere. [’s got my eye on Black Bess _zackly like a possum gits his eye ona persimmon, You jess leab me ‘lone. I’s goin’ ter bunk in dat hoss’s siall dis blessid night, and de chap dat comes fer Begs is got to climb ober Pomp. But I want to borry dat ole circumvolver of yourn.”’ “To borrow what?’ asked the host in surprise, ‘Dat cireumvelver. Dat shootin’-iron wid de six barrels. A reg’lar ole pepper-box it am; but I’m gwine to pepper some ob dem rascals if dey come foolin’ roun’ yere.” **Oh! you mean the revolver?” “*S*pose dat’s what you callit. Dat ain’t dename I gib it.” ‘But what do you know about handling a re- volver? You may shoot yourself instead of the rascals.” “Not much,” replied Pomp, indignantly. ‘ ’Tain’t dat kind of gunner I am.” “Very well, then, if you think you can trust your- self. Pink them well, Pomp, if anybody comes nosing around bere.” “if I don’t pepper ’em dar’s no use talking,” re- joined Pomp, positively. And so midnight found the old negro with his cot spread along the foot of Black Bess’s stall in such a position that no one could enter the stall without stepping over him. It had been his fixed intention to lie awake all night, this being his idea of the duty of a sentinel. So laying the pistol carefully beside his cot, within easy reach of his hand, and stretching himself out at full length, he settled down to pleasant thoughts of the races he had ridden in the far past. Race after race came up before his mental vision. He seemed, indeed, to be riding them over again, He was starting at full tilt from the judge’s stand, dashing helter-skelter over the course. and coming up to the winning-post like a whirlwind while a burst of applause rent the air. Yet. in reality, the only sound there was the old chap’s snoring, for he was sleeping away like a top, and the race which he seemed to be riding was but a dream. It “is soeasy to makeup your mind to remain wi e awake, and so hard to do it, But he was not as careful as he might have heen knowing that ts ge very lightly, and that the least unusual noise would disturb him, “Like to see @ fly git ober me, an’ in dat hoss’s stall.” he had remarked to himself. “Dunno as I wants to hurt anybody, but when dat cirecumyolver ‘vins to shoot, jess luff em keep out de way, I ain’t gwine to be "sponsible fur its doin’s.”” ic Midnight came and passed, and silence reigned in: the neighborhood of the Blue Bell. , It was more than an hour after midnight when a shadowy form came, with a slow patter of fiers, over the bridge that spanned the adjoi ' creck. The night was moonless and starless. Under its dark cope this indistinet figure silently drew near to the house, which appeared to be bathed in asleep so profound that nothing could arouse it. It seemed like murder approaching its victim, so stealthy and deliberate was the creeping movement of the threat- ening shadow. It stopped in the gloom of the hofel poreh, and ap- peared 4 be intently listening. For sev: ral minutes this watchful vigil continued. Then, with a slight chuckle of satiefaction, the intruder turned and _re- sumed his stealthy movement toward the stable. Step by step he dragged himself forward, keeping diligently in the shadow, creeping under the gloom of sheds, and in the somber shade of walls,
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20 Will Wildfire’s Racer. The stable reached, he tried the door with infinite eaution, Tt was locked. “Jist as I s’posed,” be muttered. “If it weren’t locked ’'d feelskeery. It'd look too much like a rat- trap. But ’tain’t much I keer for their locks. Kin go through it like a mouse through a pound of cheese.” This speech was not pure bragging. He cautious- ly inserted a key in the lock, and after a moment’s manipulation, was gratified by a slight click. The key turned freely. The lock was open, he sound passed throug Pomp’s dream li.e the erack of a whip, and set him off on a new train of dreaming, He was now driving a Conestoga wagon over the Alleghanies, and making his long whip-lash crack like a pistol over the huge and lumbering horses, Inch by inch the door opened, until a crevice ap- peared wide enough to admit a human form, Then the intruder hesitated and listened. All was pro- foundly still. The quiet breathing of the sleeping horses was the only sound that came to bis ears! After a minuve thus employed, he slipped through oe opening, and drew the door cautiously to after m™m, ‘Have to fix it some way,”’ he meutally remarked, “so’s it won’t swing open. That moughtn’t be healthy.” The stable was intensely dark. It seemed impos- sible that any one could make his way through it without some disturbance, But the intruder proved equal to the emergency. After confining the door in some way to hinder its readily opening, he pro- duced from under his coat an instrument from which a narrow ray of light shot across the stable. lt was that requisite to a burglar’s outfit—a dark lantern. The revealing ray was sent here aud there through the darkness, Suddenly he closed the slide, with a feelinz of apprehension. “Tf it ain’t that old nigger, I’ll be swizzledi” he mentally exclaimed. ‘ And stretched right across the hoss’s stall. I'll swear if the imperdent_black- bird oughtn’t to be kicked right out. <A feller kin never doa job of work for hisself without somebody mixing in.’ , Areassuring sound came from Pom» at this junc- jure—a lonz-drawn snore that was refreshing, if not musical, to the listener's ear. “Oh! he’sali right. Kin step over him as safe as if it was a hickory log layin’ there.” Guiding hims If by the light of a faint gleam from the lantern, he moved forward with a noiseless step. A few cautious minutes brought him opposite the bal 3 sentinel, snoring on his post. The light, which he kept carefully away from Pomp’s face, failed to reveal the weapon lying beside him. With a long, slow step the intruder crossed tha living barrier and stood safely on the edge of Black Boss's stall. Ah! danger now indeed threatened the noble ani- mal, which lay there in th» stillness of sleep, all un- conscious of anenemy. The shadow of the assassin was upon her. Tne gloom of midnight crime had invaded her sheltering home, to which her innocence an trust in man gave no power of prote:tion, Avoiding any disturbance of the sleeping animal, the intruder made his way forward in the wide stail, reaching its head without giving the slightest alarm to man or beast. A moment’s more listening, and he drew from some inner pocket a small vial, containing a minute quantity of liquid, which he poured into a water- bucket which lay under the horse trough. Then, drawing from the same pocket a somewhat larger bottle, containing a grayish powder, he emptied this over the oats which lay in the trough, mixing it up carefully with his hana, It was with a slight chuckle of satisfaction that the villainous intruder clutche1 the empty bottles, and turned, with the same caution, to depart. “ Bet high that Black Bess won’t win that race to- morrow,” was his mental comment, But circumstances over which he had no control were preparing, which would render his retreat a very. different affair from his advance. e had failed, in his preoccupation, to hear the steps of a horse in the street without. His first alarm came from a slight noise at the stable door, at which oid Pomp’s snore suddenly ceased. The next instant a loud sound came from that direction, the door flying violently open, and the obstruction which he had placed in it falling with a crash to the floor. In an instant the sleeping sentinel was wide awake. Without an effort to rise he grasped the pistol which lay almost under his hand, and fired a wild shot in the direction of the sound. It was at this shot, as described in our last chapter, that Will Wildfire fell prostrate. It had other effects than this. Every horse in the stable was awakened, and struggling to its feet. Black Bess, startled by the alarming sound, rose hastily from her recumbent attitude, striking the intruder with her iron heel in this quick move- ment. The latter, who was seeking to escape, fell pros- trate across the recumbent guard, knockinz the pis- tol from his hand, while the dark-lantern flew into an opposite stall, Scrambling to his feet before Pomp could gather his wits sufficiently to seize him, ho made a desper- ate dash for the stable door, with a halting step, that showed he had received some injury from the animal’s hoof. “Whars dat circumvolver?” queried Pomp, feel- ing hastily around him. n another instant it came under his groping hand. Quickly lifting it he fired another wild shot toward the stable door. The succeeding circumstances we know—the fall of the fugitive, and his deep groan as the feet of the flying hors» fell upon him. The two pistol-shots coming thus suddenly upon the silent night did more than arouse the sleepin horses. An instant stir was evident in the hotel, while heads were protruded from windows in the neighboring houses of the village. ‘“ What's the matter?” cried the landlord, in a loud voice. ** Dat’s easy axed, but ’tain’t easy answered,”’ re- pliel Pomp. who had now made his way out of the stable. “ Didn’t shoot de ole circumyolver for nothin’, jess you stake yer cash on dat. Yere’s two on’em fotched down, But de Lord only knows who dey is.” In a very few minutes more the inn was all alive. The doors were thrown open, and several figures emerged bearing lights. From the neighboring hous’s, also, forms appeared. The indication of a eagedy, had suddenly aroused the sleeping popu- ation, “T wera layin’ dar as wide awake as you eber see’d anybody,’ remarked Pomp, to his employer. **when I heersd somebody at de stable door. Den snatched de old shootin’-iron an’ let drive, Fotched ’um, too, de fu’st shot, Jist arterwards anoder of ’em come runnin’ froo de stable like mad. But Pomp was dar, you bet. Brung de circumvolver on him wid a squar’ aim, and down he went, Dar’s yer pro- vender, Can’t fool dere time’bout ole Pomp,” ““Why, good God!” cried the landlord, in horror, “This is Will Wi dfire!” ‘““Who dat?’ screame’ the negro, ‘ Oh, lawsee! don’t neber say dat! Jess as leave shoot my own picanniny. Can’t beso. Marse Wildfire ain’t a-gwine to hurt his own hoss, ’Tain’t reasonable.” “This one is old Jake, the drunken old bloat,” announced one of the neighbors. ‘Poor devil, he has got his last rations.” * Got a bullet froo him?” cried Pomp. “Not he. His skull seems broken in. I heard a runaway horse. It must have trod on his head.” But the landlord was too busily occupied with the insensible form of Will Wildfire to attend to this con-
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Will Wildfire’s Racer. 21 i ———— versation. He brought the light of his lamp to bear on the pallid face and closed eyes. At the same moment a slight tremor shook Will’s frame. His eyes opened and looked upward with an unmeaning gfare. His lost senses were slowly returning. CHAPTER XIII. OLD JAKE’S POST MORTEM REVENGE. ‘‘Wuere shall I put this horse, Mr. Lloyd?” que- ried one of the hostlers of the Bell. He held the bridle of Will Wildfire’s runaway horse, which had made its way back to the place in which it had lefs its master, : . “T hardly think Mr. Wildfire will need it this morning,” answered the landlord. ‘*Put it in the stable, in any empty stall, and see that the poor brute has something to eat and drink, The animal can- not be justly punished for the murder which it chanced to commit last night.” *“ How is that?” asked a gentleman, who had just ridden up, and was on the point of dismounting. “There are all sorts of rumors afloat in the city, What has happened? They even go so far as to say that Will Wildfire was shot.” The speaker was Pierce Browning, who was in a state of excitement very unusual with him, * He was shot at,” replied the landlord. * At least old Pomp sent some pistol-balls flying wildly in the air, which, by good luck, did not kill any horses, and certainly did not hit any men. It is likely they may be found in the roof of the stable.” “But what is meant, then, by all this talk about men being killed?” “There was one man killed—a drunken old Tana who was trying to pores Will Wildfire’s racer, ut it was the horses themselves that took revenge on him. Black Bess seems to have kicked him while he was getting into her stall, and seriously injured his leg. He managed to run out of the door of the stable, and then fellin the road. At the same mo- ment the horse rei see here was frightened by the pistol-shots, and started on a full run, His hoof came on old Jake’s head, and cracked bis skull as if it had been an egg-shell. The brute creatures them- selves have taken revenge on their foe.” “But Will Wildfire? how about him?” asked Pierce anxiously. ‘‘ His life is worth a dozen of such midnight horse doctors as this.” “He is enjoying a good breakfast, just now,’ re- plied Mr. Lloyd, ‘“‘He was only stunned. All his trouble was that the stable door came open in his hands rather too suddenly, Will stumbled, and fell backward, ay oa | his head on a stone, it was a cloudy night, but I think it likely that he saw stars about that time. He came to, though, after a few minutes, and is none the worse for his tumble,” ‘He is a rascally, ungrateful wretch, then,” cried Pierce. sonrly—though really much relieved, ‘to give all his friends such hopes of a sensation, and then to disappoint them in this ridiculous fashion, wo is he? I feel like telling him what I think of im. “Yon will find him in the dining-room,”' replied the host laughingly, “celebrating his recovery over an egg and a cup of coffee.” “Tet him beware!’’ exclaimed Pierce, tragically, as he ascended the steps of the porch and passed into the house. ~ ‘ Mr. Lloyd turned away, giving his attention to some other affair connected with his house, while an attendant led Pierce’s horse to the stable, The host of the Bue Felt had not Hegde hn ees ied many minutes when he was again interrupted, P This arte it was Pete, Will Wildfire’s ebony valet, who had been out exercising Black Bess. : “How dis, Marse Lloyd?’ cried the boy, sputter- ing with indignation, ‘Dar some fool chap’s gwine an’ put anoder hoss in Black Bess’s stall. Now dat hoss’s got to git. ‘cause I ain’t gwine to stan’ no sich nonsense,” But it is Mr, Wildfire’s own horse,” exclaimed the host. ‘“Itis Frank, his roadster. You had better put Bess somewhere else for alittle while, 50 long as that stupid hoster has taken up her stall, She will have to be driven over to the Park in an hour or two, so it don’t matter,” “Didn't notice ‘twas Marse Will’s own hoss, or I wouldn't keered so much,” answered Peto, greatly mollified. ‘‘Ole Pomp's foolin’ ’round Black Bess anyhow, nussing her up fur de race; so I s*pose I mought let de hoss alone.” my ao Pete walked away to inspect the nursing oper- ations. It was perhaps two hours afterward when Pierco and Will mounted their horses to ride over to Suffolk Park, where the races of the day were to begin in about an hour or more. It was a fine bright morning, with just enough snap in the air to make a brisk ride enjoyable. There had been a heavy dew during the night, and the dust was well laid. The two young men were in prime spirits as they rattled at a lively pace toward the race-course. “ Are you sure the old villain didn’t physic her feed in spite of you all?” asked Pierce, “Hardly. Pomp swecrs that he was wide-awake, He does acknowledge to a little muddiness of brain —just a floating cloud of sleep, you know. But he was wakened up by the wind of old Jake's stepping over him, For all that, however, I think it was very lucky that I happened into the game at that minute; for I’ve a notion that the darky’s brain was mud- | dier than he lets on.” They had now reached the entrance of Suffolk Park. The place was already alive with people, and the constant stream was flowing along the road leading to that locality sacred to horsemanship, “What ails your horse?” asked Pierce. ‘ Why, the brute is allin a white lather, and is foaming at the mouth.” “hat is queer,” replied Will, looking at the horse, which was evidently suffering. “I never saw him heli that way before.” They were teren ted at this moment by Charley Lloyd, the host of the Bell, who rode briskly up, a look of anxiety upon his face. “Tm half afraid the villain may have got the start of us,’ he cried. “Two Noe as bottles have Mg been found in the dust, at the spot where he fell. He may have clutched them in his hand. One of them has a very pel a smell, and [ have sent them over to Doctor Morgan to anelyze, I doubt if he hasn’t managed to poison Black Bess’s feed. in. spite :f Pomp. But what ails your horse, Mr. Wild- fire? He is white with sweat, and he is trembling like aleaf. Look out! He is going to fall.” At this warning Will leaped lightly from the sad- die and caught the wavering horse by the head. The oor brute seemed in deep distress, foaming, and - heaving with the violence of its respirations. “Lead him to the stable!" cried one of the author- ities of the ground. “The horse is deadly sick. Here, Joe, take Mr, Wildfire’s horse. See what is the matter, and try and doctor him up. What he doesn't know about physicking horses isn’t worth knowing,” he continued, as the person addressed led SMAY the suffering animal, which could hardly stand. “T don’t see what this means,”’ said Will, looking donb'fully after the burse, “By thunder. I have it!” cried Mr, Lloyd, striking his knee sharply with his hand. “This horse has got the poison intended for Black Bess. It is a clear ease of retribution; old Jake has revenged himself op the animal that killed him.” ‘But how isthat? Ido not understand.” “Your runaway horse wandered back to the Bell this morning. He was caught, and I told the hostler to put him in any empty stall in the stable. Now ib happened that Bess was out exercising, and the fel- low, by lucky stupidity, put him in her stall. Pete came to me, mad as fire, and growled dire vengeance against the fool who had ousted Bess from her quar-
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22 Will Wildfire’s Racer. ters. Luckily I told him not to mind, but to put her somewhere else for the present.” “*So hol” cried the Suffolk Park proprietor. “That way the cat jumps, eh? They Have been try- ing to poison Black Bess and have hit the wrong horse. I'll be shot, if that ain’t the luckiest blunder that I have heard of for a month of Sundays!” “ But may not the lass have uibbled at her feed early this morning?” asked Will, anxiously. “No. Pomp threw some more feed into her trough after the 4listurbanes last night. She could hardly have euten down to the poisoned food,” * But look out that Pete don’t lead her to her own stall when he finds it ol a Ol suggested Pierce, “There may be enough of the physic left to put her out of the race.” “4 good thought!” exclaimed the host of the Bell. “Tt will not do to take any such risks. I will ride bax! as quick as my horse can carry me and pre- vent any such fetal blunder.” Without another word he turned, and put his ee to a rapid gallop over the road leading to the ell. After some further conversa‘ion the two friends entered the inclosurse, both congratulating them- selves that this lucky accident had ae, saved them the large sums they had each invested in wagers, The grounds were already well filled, the broad inclosure that bounded the track containing an ex- citer multitude, whose eager members were actively engaged in canvassing the merits of the various horses entered for the day’s races. The long files of seats fronting the judge’s stand were fully ocen- ied, as it lacked but ten minutes of the hour fixed ‘or the first race of the oe Suffolk Parkisa mile track, of an oval or egg- shape, perfectly level, and with a firm, clean bottom which admirably adapts it to the display of fine horsemanship. The attention of the crowd of lookers-on was kept aroused by horses exercising around the track, by the offers of enthusiastic betters, and by the various sources of amusement which such an oceasion pre- sents. There was certainly no lack of enjoyment or of excitement in the audience, Ths first heat was a two-mile trot of horses with a 2:40 record. A half-dozen trotters were entered, and there was a lively time as the metiled animals broke away from the starting stand, nose to nose, and with a lively ‘Go! from the judze. Shouts an’ yells rent the air as the animals came round again to the starting-point ata rattling pace, hut far removed from the evenness of their start, Two of them, indeed, were fairly out of the race, and of the other four, the foremost and hindmost were separated by three good lengths. The drivers leaned forward in a donblelup atti- tude, inciting their horses to speol by every possible means, their lizht vehicles bounding like feathers behind the flying animals As the end of the second mile approached the ex- eitement redonblel, The hors) which had been fourth in the first round was now seen to be putting out an unexpected reserve force, gaining ground step by step on bis antagonists. As the last quorter was reached his head was seen to lap the wheels of the forem st sulkv. . This position he stubbornly retained until within a hundred yards of the clos2, when a loosening of the reins, a light touch with the whip, and a cheerful chirrup from his driver, seamed to put new sne<«d into the animal. A quick, powerfil burst, and he eame up like a flash on the Jeading horse, who had no rserve fores tospare. A shout that made the very floating clouds waver rent the air as he lanpe | this horse, and came in by a head and neck the winner. Excitement, congratulations, not unmixed with rroans over lost bets, followed this lively termina- ion of the first match of the day. But the interest in the victory was soon succeeded by anew and more entrancing subject of conversa- tion. The events of the previous night, the death of oll Jake, which had been well talked over, were followed by t.e news of the narrow escape of Black Bess from poisoniay, and the lucky dent through which a much less valuable horké had taken her place. This tidings flew like wildfire through the multi- tude, and was reecived with various expressions of concern and indiznation. Had the instigators of the dastardly attempt been dotected in the angry crowd at that instant, they would have run serious danger of lynching. Yet they were there unknown to those who were uttering anathemas against them. Two men stood apart in the center of the field, one with hisarm ina sling, and a pallid face, while a look of baffled rage marked his features, “We are sold!’ he exclaimed, in a low, bitter tone, ‘and the old hound don’t need paying. He has got his settler from the horses.” ‘*A miglity good job, too,” coolly remarked Luke Lister, ‘ Heis past peaching.”’ * But what isto be done? Ihave laid a big pile against this infernal horse, and I am devilishly afraid the creature is going to win,” “There is nothing left, as I sce,’ returned Luke, “but to go for the nigger. I think wecan salt the little hound In some way so that he won't be fit to drive. “Tt is the last chance.” said Mark, ‘ Put your hounds on his track, Luke. Sicken him in some way, for heaven’s sake.” CHAPTER XIV. THE HORSE DETECTIVE. “Never see’d a hoss wid better style,” declared Pomp, as he carefully manipulated the blooded racer. “She's jessin de primest condition; ebery inch bone aud muscle: an’ bottom ‘nuff fur a three mile burst. Don’t you forgit de ’structions I’s gi’n you, Pete.” “Nary time,’ answered Pets. ‘But ain't it time de critter was havin’ her mash?”’ “Don’t know but mebbe *tis.”’ rejoined Pomp, leading the animal into the stable. ‘'S’pose we'll put her in her own stall now. De ’telligent critter don’t ike to be shifted *bout no more dan a human pusson wo ld.” “I do b’lieve she’s been pinin’ over it, dese two hours,” asserted Pete, The two hg ee jockeys, the old and the young, had led Bess into her stall, and Pete had just seized the bucket for the purpose of bringing 1er some water, when the hos! of the Bell rode up ata thundering pace. le:ping from his horse and rushing headlong in‘o the stable, ** Wor the Lord’s sake don’t put that horse there!’ he yelled. ‘*Has she eaten or drank anything in that stall?” “Nary a mouthful,” replied Pomp, turning around in great astonishment. “Put her somewhere else, then. The feed there is poisoned. Drop that bucket, Pete. Likely that is poisoned, too.” If Pete had been stung by a wasp ir the handle of the bueket he could not have dropp-d it more has- tily. His eyes onened in astonishment till they seemed like two white goggles in an ebony frame, “ Great Jeremiah!” were the only words for which he conld find ntterance, “Ont with her at once, Pomp. Don’t let her even smell at the trough ” Slichtly recovering from the effect of this be- wildering announcement Pomp hastily backed the horse from the stall as quickly as if he feared its very vicinity mizht prove perilous. “Oh, de Land!” he ejaculated ‘Dat old debil Jake, Felt kindersolemn ‘bout him at fn’st. I’clare; but de hosses knows what dey’s "bout, Dey’s mighty
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Will Wildfire’s Racer. 238 ‘telligent critters, ishosses. Some men ain'tnowhar ‘longside ’em.” onto this scene was occurring in the Bell stables, a couple of travelers were approaching that locality by the road leading from Philadelphia. 4 They drove a slow-jogging chestnut horse, their vehicle being a sort of goods wagon, heht-built, yet capacious enough to stow away a considerable quan- tity of merchandise, t was empty now, however. except for the two men who occupied the seat, lettizg the horse jog quietly on, . mt oat “Tve heard of such a thing as a blind trail,” said one of these, a sharp-looking, thin-faced person. * And I’ve a notion that’s the sort of a track we are following. It’s a cute game we’ve been playing, but it won't work. Isay: suppose we combine busi- ness and pleasure? There's to be some fast racing on the Suffolk Park course to-day. Let's drive over and take it in.” « 7 “Hold!” replied the other,a large-built, black-whis- kered individual. ‘ Lookatthe creature, now! How her ears are up. By Jupiter!she smells familiar ground, at last.’’ s The lazy-looking animal was looking eagerly around, With a suort of satisfaction she broke into a quicker pace, The dull droop with which she had been dragging along, was replaced by an unlooked- for liveliness, J ‘Sure os you're alive, we’ve hit the mark!” ex- claimed the’ first speaker, ‘Give her ail the rein she wauts, Jack. Give a rogue rope enough and he will hang himself, you know. But l’ve a notion this horse is more likely to hang her master than her- self. , As they entered Paschalville the horse broke into a brisk trot. The driver loosened the reins to see what course she would now take. This was soon evident. She showed her training with the instinct of a doctor's or a milkman’s horse, swerving from the road as she came opposite the Bell, and Falting in front of the porch of this ancient hostelry, “Her master has been in the habit of sampling Charley Lloyd’s ale or whisky, that’s sure enough,” asserted the sharp-faced man, ‘* Hello! within there! Hey! the man of the house!’ “What's broke loose?’ asked the landlord. emerg- ing from the stable. “Do you want to see me?” “Yes, We're some old customers of yours, Char- ley. Don't you recognize our team?” “Pll bet 'do. And you along with it, now. Jack Brace, the thief-taker, eh? What lay are you on now. Jack!” “Got alittle business with the proprietor of this team, that’s all,” replied the black-whiskered travel- er. ‘* Who does it belong to?” “A chap that hangs out somewhere on the road to Darby. I can’t fix him exactly, for he’s a new- comer about here. I've heard him called Phil Han- ey. but wouldn’t ike to swear that’s his name. on’t you get out and take something, gentlemen? You won't be doing justice to your team if you don't, for Phil Handy, or whoever he is, always has a dry spot that can only be reached by a beaker of ale.” “ Well, we don’t want to disgrace the horse that hauls us,’”’ returned Jack, leaping to the ground, “He will go better if we honor his judgment by imbibing. What sort of a got-up chap is this Phil Handy?’ “Bornin England. Tl go high on that. You ean see it in his face, and hear it on his tongue. He is a tall, raw-boned customer, with side-whiskers, sort of sandy color. <A long nose, blue eves, and something of the look of a decayed sport. What is yours, sir?” “Oh! I'll follow our friend Jack’s example, His taste in drink is proverbial,” and the sharp-eved traveler took up the bottle from which Jack had just poured a generous potation. “ Across the bridge, did you say?” asked Jack. as they again entered the wagon, after wetting their whistles at the Bell bar. Yes, and straight out the Pike, Give the horse her head, She'll be a queer one if she don’t know her ea home. What’s up, gentlemen? Some thiev- ing, eh?” 3 Why, it looks that way. If we are on the right lay you will soon hearof somefun. Who is going to win on the track, to-dey?” “The fellow that beats,” replied the landlord, “That’s about as good an answer as you gave tomy question.” Jack laughed as he started his horse. ‘On secret service, you know,” he cried out. ‘* Will see youat the Suffolk if we get through in time. Good-day.” oe good luck,” cried the landlord after them cheerily. About a half-mile beyond the Bell the footof the slope at whose summit stood Luke Lister’s habitation, Tho horse showed no signs of slacking speed at this acclivity, but dashed up the hill with a briskness that was very promising. “It is getting warm, as they say in the game of ‘hunt the slipper,’” eried Jack. ‘‘Our Rosinante is not far from home, or I'm much mistaken.” His suggestion proved correct. Arrived at the hill top, the horse ran past the modest mansion which crowned the slope, but stopped in front of the gate leading to an equally modest stable in its rear. “Struek ile, by struck the thunder!” asserted Jack. “ Jump down and open (he gate, We will soon see if a horse remembers his own oat-bin.” His companion did as requested, the horse turning into the gate as soon as it was opened, and making anes byte with a loud neigh of recognition, to the Stable, Jack jumped briskly from the vehicle, throwing the reins on her back, ** Loosen her gears and take her out of the shafts,” he said, “She deserves a nibble of grass for her honesty. So this is the burglars’ den, eh? By Jove, it looks as innocent as a lamb’s cote or a dove’s nest. And hasn’t as much signs of lifeas a dead mackerel, But looks go for nu thing in our trade, We've got to make our appreaches gently.” The horse was by this time released, and was busily cropping the long grass of the garden, The two men cautiously approached the Fcube whose open shutters gave signs of habitation, but about which no life appeared. But we must leave them for the present, as affairs at Suffolk Park demand our attention, A second race has been run since our last appearance there, and knots of eager sportsmen are busily talking over the features of the races aiready accom- plished, and canvassing the merits of those yet to come, Pierce Browning is the center of such a group, to whom he is retailing opinions in his usual quie a devil-may-care way, though some seem to look upon him as an oracle. Mark Preston is there, too, with his pale face and his injured arm, There is a deep bitterness in the scowling look whch he fastens on Will Wildfire, who has just passed him, regarcless of his presence. But Will hes another object in view, of more im- portance to him than the looks of his revengeful foe. He has just caught a glimpse of a fair face among those entering at the gate, and pushes quickly orward, “ Better late than never, fs a good old saying,” he cried, on reaching this lady, “though I had almost iven you up.” BN Bit tie each is not run yet?” she anxi usly in- quired. ‘I would not miss that for anything. But is it not the hour yet?” “No You have an hour’s grace; and snother trot to amuse you in the meantime, Come this way. I have reserved a seat for you.” The bright face of Clara Moreland looked beauti- ful among all the beautiful women there assembled,
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Will Wildfire’s Racer. as she followed Will in his eager movement. Many eyes surveyed them admiringly, for youth and beauty are always admirable, and Will and Clara d both in their richest prime, Among the eyes fixed on toem were those set in the ebony face of old Pomp, who was surrounded by a knot of jockeys, to whom the old fellow’s opinion was almost oracular, “Hil” he exclaimed, shaking his woolly head in delight, ‘“ Dar’s Marse Will an’ his lady. She’s got a face jess like an apple blossom; an’ eyes—goliy! Tain’t got anoder word to say, on'y if he’s gwine to make a catch dat’s de kind he’s gotupfar. Neber had these ole eyes on sich a lubly pair before.” Not far distant from Pomp’s pos: of honor was another friend of ours, no less important a person- ‘e.than Pete, the aha midett driver of Black Bess. 6 was talking with a smooth-tongued, ministerial- looking person, “Wrong to drive a hoss! Wonder whar you’s been brung up?” exclaimed Pete, with astonishment. *“S'pec’ you’s neber been eddicated in hoss bizness much, hy, see yere, ain't it nat’ral for a hoss to run?” “ Certainly, that is natural.” “ Well, den, it’s jess as nat'ral fur a little nigger to hang on, If de hoss drags him roun’ de track, dat aren't his fault, nohow.” And Pete lauzhed heartily, as if he thought he had the best of the argument. “Can you read?” asked the other, solemnly. “Wouldn’t bri much ‘bout eddication ef I couldn't,” asserted Pete. “Then I have a small tract here which I hope you will carefully peruse. It is entitled ‘The Sin of Gambling.’ yan will learn some wholesome truths from it.” - He drew the tract in question from his pocket, in sess oc with a handful of peanuts. “Golly! dat’s de kind of track dis nig lub best!” exclaimed Pete, looking longingly at the nuts. “Thess? Well, I will present you with these if you will only promise to read the tract.” “Pass it ober,” said Pete. ‘‘Guess Ill masticate it; arter I's done with de peanuts. Talk *bout yer ice cream an’ sich truck! Dey ain’t a patch ’long- side of peanuts.” A few minutes afterward Pete strolled away from his new acquaintance, eagerly munching at the provender. “Sold!” cried the tract-distributor, surveying the boy with an evil look. “Dunno "bout dese yere nuts,” remarked Pete. “Dey ain’t fu’st crop, nohow. Ouch! dat chap’s bitter as gall. Wonder if the truck he gub me is as hard to swaller.” CHAPTER XV, THE RACE. $ A Brenze of excitement ran through the assem- bled multitude. The great race of the day was about to come off, the mile trot between horses with a 2:25 record, for which there were five entries, Lady Olare, Rover, Black Bess, Stonewall and Hardy. Little was kmown about the two last-named horses, and the betting had been heaviest on the others. Lady Clare had made magnificent time in former races, and her stock went up rapidly as the curious crowd gathered around the stables, where the racers were being led out and harnessed for the trot. “Isn't she a beauty!” ‘Straight and trim as an arrow.” ‘Look at her counter; she’s just magnifi- cent.” “Rather light, I fancy.” ‘* Don’t you be- lieve that. She'll carry her weight.” Such were a few of the many admiring comments with which the beautifully-built and splendidly- groomed animal was greeted. “Which horse is the large bay?” “That is Rover.” : ‘* Well, that is what I call a horse, There’s bot- tom in that creature. He is no pretty plaything like Lady Clare, “Pretty plaything, eh? Just wait till you see her on the track.” “T don’t like that fellow with the heavy fetlocks, There’s too much weight without muscle to carry it, What horse is it?” “Hardy.” “ But where is the mare that they tried to poison? A rascally business that was, I hope she’ll win.”’ The ferling he expressed was shared by many others. Th re is nothing like a story and a mystery to erouse human interest, and Black Bess was the hero of the day to all who had heard of her lucky escape from poisoning. When she was led from the stable a movement of the crowd and a rapid buzz of conversation attested the general interest. They crowded in upon the space set apart for the horses, many busy comments being made on her appearance. These opinions were not all favorable. ‘She has no build,” declared one critic. ‘‘The creature is too dumpy. And I'll swear she don’t know how to carry her head.” “She hasn’t the points of a born racer, that’s flat. I doubt if she’s a thoroughbred.” “But look at her limbs. There’s carry in them, if she only kas a good reach.” “An ungainly brute, 1 call the horse,” said an- other adverse critic, turning away in disgust. “*Don’t take too much stock in any such notions,” replied another, who had been attentively examin- ing the object of the conversation, “ Look at the creature's eye, *he says there, ‘I won't be beat,’ as plain as if she could talk. And she steps as proudly as a queen. I never saw a tread I liked better, Take my word for it, the horse is not going to be discounted easily.” “Who drives her? Jim Mace?” “No. The lit. le blacky you see there. That sharp- looking young rascal.” ‘*He? Why, he is not over fifteen years old; and full thirty pounds under weight.” “But they say he can handle the ribbons as neat- ly as any man on the ground. He has been under old Pomp’s training—Charley Lloyd’s right hand man, you know. There’s no better trainer in the States. That’s him at the horse's head now.” “But about the weight?” “That’s looked after. The sulky is weighted, I believe.” During this conversation the horses were being carefully harnessed, the noble animals being as ten- derly handled as though they were made of fine French china, and would break with very rough handling. Black Bess was the most nervous and uneasy of the lot, stamping and restlessly stirring, while her eye gleamed with an almost savage fire, “That boy will never hold her. She wants a stronger hand.” ‘Plenty of fire there, that’s certain. But Pete’s a fiery young hound himself.” “What luck?” asked Luke Lister of the minis- terial-looking individual who had been conversing with Pete. “He bit.” was the reply. “I tried the parson dodge on him. Gave him a tract on ‘The Sin of Gambling,’ and a handful of loaded peanuts. The young devil didn’t take to the tract worth a cent, but he went for the peanuts as if he’d been through a six weeks’ fast. If his stomach ain’t made of cast iron, he’lltumhle out of the sulky before he’s balf round the track.” “Good! We've bucked against Black Bess too strong to afford to have her win the race. I’ve gota cool thousand on her; and T wouldn’t like to say how much Mark has up.” “She won’t win it, if there’s any virtue in drugs.” **Hush! We may be overheard.” The two confederates walked away to another part of the field. “OClear the track!” came the order from the judges, ae
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Will Wildfire’s Racer. on the track were hurried off, leaving a clear field for the racers, which soon appeared, moving gallantly up, and tak- ing their places at the start. The horses which were exercisin “Which horse has won the pole?” asked Clara Moreland eagerly, as Will returned to her, after a short absence. “Rover: with Black Bess second, and Lady Clare third. Here they come now. A splendid show, ““What horse is the Chestnut, that tall, hard- mouthed brute?” “Stonewall,” : “ He is a well-built horse.—Ah! the little beauty! Is that Lady Clare?” “ Yes. ” “She might pass for an Arabian. I am half in love with her—Black Bess is ungainly beside her. “Yes,” replied Will, slightly nettled. ‘* But beauty is one thing. and duty is another.” “Now you are vexed.—I knew you would be if TI dared praise any horse but yours. We'll wait will they come up to the winning post before we finish our fight.—Look at little Pete! If he ain’t too comi- cal for anything.” Others thought so too, for alaugh arose at the pre- ternaturally solemn aspect of the darky, unrelieved by a glimmer of his usual Joni, He looked important, though, as he grasped the reins with a death grip, forcing the restive animal down to a slow trot, Pomp bustled up, with a pretense of adjusting some part of the harness. ‘ “Don’t you forgit my ‘structions,’ he whispered _“Nary forgit,” was Pete’s sententious answer, as he guided his horse into the line. A moment more and the five animals, side by side, came up at a full dash to the pees stand. All eyes were alert, every heart stopped beating for an instant, every form was bent forward in eager interest—but the sharp clang of the bell announced that a fair start had not been made. Stonewall, taking the bit in his teeth, was a half length in ad- vance of the other animals. The racers had dashed full twenty-five yards ahead before they could be stopped and returied to the starting point. Twice more a false start was made. The first time it was Hardy, the next Rover, that broke the uni- formity of the line. * Are they never going to start?” asked Clara, im- atiently. ‘‘ Here toey come again!—Look at Pete! do believe the little rogue is holing in his horse!” “It looks that way,” said Will, frowning. ‘* She will never go with a tight rein like that,” Yet there were no signs of intention in Pete's face; he was solemn as &@ young monkey as he brought his horse up to the judge’s stand, a head and a neck be- hind the others. The ominous bell agam rung out. It was another false start, “What does the villain mean?” queried Will, “Is that some of the Pomp’s instructions? 1 bave a shrewd notion he did that purposely.” “It looks like it,” returned Clara, shaking her head. “Itis beginning to tell, too, Lady Clare is be- coming heated and nervous. But Bess seems to grow more quiet with every start.” “That’s the advantage of bottom,”’ whispered Will. ‘She has the stuff in her to wear them all out at that game. ButIdon’tlikeit. I want the thing done fairly, and !’d kick Pete if I had bold of him.” “What ails him?” cried Clara, quickly. ‘‘ Look at his face! There is somethine wrong with him. I would say he was growing pale if charcoal could grow pale.” Will anxiously looked at the boy, who was driving past on his return to the starting int. Plainly enough all was not well with him. Something was amiss in his interior Lhope heis not going to become sick at this criti- cal point,” said Will, ina tone of great anxiety, hatever was the matter with the boy, he evident, . ly felt that there was no time to waste in getting the race through as soon as possible. There was no re- turn to his former tactics. The five horses came up, this time, neck to neck, A blanket would have coy- ered them all, so closely were they laid side by side. Their action was simply splendid. ‘The experienced eye of the judge cast one keen be glance across the exact line of the horses. * Go!” came in loud command from his li And go they did, darting like a whirlwind down the smooth track. For a hundred yards they kept side by side, scarcely an inch’s breadth oper ig the line - their noses. Then training and blood began to tell. Hardy made a bad break and went to the rear, Rover forged aliead, gaining a half length the advan- tage. Lady Clare and Black Bess yet kept side by side, while Stonewall gradually fell behind. But soon the Lady Clare blood began to show ! itself. She sapped out with a quick burst, lapping 7 on Rover, and leaving black Bessa half length inthe rear. The excitement of the lookers on was now growing intense. A thousand exclamations rent the air, Shou's of “Go! Go!” greeted each horse that gained a temporary port, A hundred hats were flung into the air as Lady Clare made this decided burst. as Bess had not yet deviated from the regular pace with which she set out. Pete grasped the reins | oe while a preternatural solemnity marked his ace. They were now nearing the half-mile turn, whea the driver of Lady Clare, who had forged more than a length ahead of Bess, showed signs of an intention to turn short and take the inside track. “ Hil thar! don’t try dat!” yelled Pete, “Dar'll be somefin’ bu'st, sure’s you Jib, Back water dar!” ~ As the opposing jockey still tried to crowd in, Pete gave Bess the rein, with a quick chirrup at which she darted ahead like a bird. “Look out there, or your wheel's gone!’ came a warning cry. Lady Clare’s driver took the hint, and swerved out again, but not in time to keep Pete from sweep- ing his wheels. A sharp crack followed. Three felloes were torn from the wheel of the fouling sulky: A laugh of disdain came from Pete. | as Bess came grandly up side by side with her antaj ‘onist, and a neck behind Rover, who was hugehig the ie turn closely. : + as The other two horses were alength or two behind, and showed little hope of making up their losses, "© A moment more and they were all dashing briskly —__ down the home-stretch, the three leading horses ie keeping their relative position until the th quarter had been made, ‘ Then, whatever it was that ailed Pete, he sudden- ly became doubled up like a knife, still clinging to pent reins, yet apparently holding his seat with fp culty. * What is the matter?’ was the universal cry. “Ts the boy sick?” ; “It is working,” said Mark Preston, with a sinister smile, ‘He will be on the ground before he makes = hundred paces more, The game's lost for Black O88, pope eres But he didn’t know Pete. In a moment more he . had straightened himself up again, though by lh in severe pain. Lady Clare and Rover were bo’ now. acta the former by a half-length, the latter by a head. Tpete shook the reins and gave his cheerful chirrup. The intelligent animal, with a strength that seemed as fresh as at the start, darted onward, her long, swinging sfride telling immensely, while she sunk down into that crouching attitude habitual to her when at top speed. In a second she was neck to neck with Rover In five seconds more she had broken down the ad- vantage of Lady Clare. The two horses trotted side by side, at a tremendous pace, which was plain- q
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26 Will Wildfire’s Racer. Frank slipped into the room before she could re- cover from her involuntary movement, turned the key in the lock, and stood with his back to the door, “Now you'll please keep cool, my dear woman,” yy telling on the slighter-built animal. Scarce a hun- red yards separated them from the close, The shouts and cries of ‘* Go! Gol’ which rent the air, were broken at this instant by a general ex- clamation of alarm and surprise. Pete was again doubled up like a jack-knife, the reins had fallen from his hazids, and he was swaying in his narrow seat like a leaf in the blast. “Great Heaven! what is wrong with the lad?’ he quietly remarked. *‘My partner and I mean |‘ business, and the easier you take it the better you'll Sc feel after it’s all over,” ‘You mean. business, do you? Locking yourself to came from more than one voice. ‘And he had the race in his hands.” But they did not know Black Bess if they thought she was not able to take care of herself in sucha crisis. If Pete could only retain his seat for five seconds more! The brave hoy was evidently trying hard to do so, ie the noble horse shot forward in one supreme effort. A shout that rent the sky broke forth as she dart- ed pate the judge’s stand a full half-length ahead of Lady Clare, winning the race. But the shout was changed toa ery of fear and alarm as the next instant Pete pitched forward and up alone with me, you ugly, broken-nosed, blear- eyed, foul-mouthed, owdacious burglar! I'd have you know I mean business, too!” Before Frank could hinder her she had flung open the bowed shutters of a window and leaped through it with a strength and agility for which no one would have given her credit. Meanwhile Jack had hastily sought the upper sto- ries of the house, and was rapidly opening room af- ter room. taking in their features with one compre- hensive glance of his experienced eyes. “Hal this looks promising!” he exclaimed, as he tried the door of a room on the third floor, opposite that in which Pete had been imprisoned. It was locked. But this was little hindrance to the experienced in detective. He was well provided with keys and | te thoroughly versed in the mystery of locks, and not two minutes elapsed before the door stood open, | of revealing the secrets of the closed room. ‘Looks like a pawnbroker’s office on auction day,” he muttered. surveying the miscellanousaccu- | mulationof materials of every sort with which the | f¢ apartment was well filled. ‘* A neat assortment, in- deed! If we haven’t struck oil then I'll sell out. |b caf ne a better supplied burglar’s store-house in bi all my life.” Any more minute examination of the treasure he bi was flung heavily from his seat, striking the ground with a sickening thud. It was with difficulty that Rover was swerved as. and prevented from running over tie fallen victor. CHAPTER XVI. JACK BRACE MAKES A DISCOVERY. “Sprak louder. I’m a bit hard of hearing,” said the ill-favored woman, who came to the door in re- sponse to Jack Brace’s loud rap. “Ts Phil Handy at home?" screamed Jack, at the top of his voice, T ain’t so bad as that,” the *“There’s nobody at You needn't holler. woman sharply answered. home ’cept me.” “ How soon will he be home?” “T dunno, He’s gone to the races. afore night, I s*pose.” She made as if she would shut the door in their faces. ; * We are in no hurry. We will wait till he comes,” screamed Jack, setting his foot against the door. “°Tain’t no use, I tell you,” cried the woman, pushing hard on the door. ‘“‘I'm a lone woman bere and I won't have no men waiting about till Lu—Phil, I mean, comes home” Jack made no reply. but, setting his burly shoul- ders to the door, flung it wide o en, pushing the struggling woman back to the wall. This high-handed proceeding roused the good lady into a burst of fury, and she opened on the intruders ‘with a fierce vituperation that would have done credit to a fishwife, But Jack marched in, followed by his companion, with as much indifference as though it had been but a fly buzzing at his ears. "You owdacious villains,” she screamed. “If my man was only here wouldn’t he pay you out for this? Taking advantage of alone, weak woman! Oh! if £ only had my broomstick I'd trounce the ugly pair of you! Pretty carryings-on iadeed, fora pair of burg- Jars to break in on a defenseless female!” “ We are not burglars, my good woman.” “Your good woman! Your good woman, indeed! T'd have you know, you monkey-faced villain, that \I’'m ndébody’s good woman! And Tl have the law of you, too. We'llsee if you’re not burglars. What are you, I'd like to know?” “Policemen, madam,” said Jack, marchinz on, A scream came from the woman’s lips. She flung herself on the door of the room which Jack was about to enter, It opened under her weight, and she Not much tripped and staggered’ into the room, falling into a chair on its opposite side, “That's all right,” Jack coolly remarked. eare of the virago, Frank, obstropulonus. ing mansion,” “Take x Use the darbies if she is 1 will take 4 survey of this interest- had discovered was prevented by a sudden and vio- lent uproar below. Wild cries ina woman’s voice, the sound of blows, trampling of feet, and a mixture of \ells and oaths in a man’s tones, were enough to startle the steadiest nerves. : Hastily closing the door, Jack ran rapidly down- stairs, to witness a spectacle which he was, for @ time, prevented from taking part in by an involun- tary fit of laughter. Yor the good lady of the house, graspi+e a heavy broom as a weapon of offense, was actively belabor- ing his comrade, who was corraled in a corner, and crouching down in a vain effort to escape the inces- sant shower of blows. * You mean business, do you, you house-breaking villain? You mean_ business, eh? Maybe i don’t mean business, too!” Andevery word was emphasized with a blow which made it very evident to the victim that she certainly _did mean business. Jack stood for a minute tightly grasping the balus- ters to keep himself from falling, for he was ae overcome With laughter. As soon as he could re- cover he ran down to the rescue of his comrade. | But the latter, at the same instant, darted in a — crouching attitude from his corner, taking his as- | sailant in the knees, and upsetting her, broom and | all, on the floor, while he crawled hastily out and | hurried away from that dangerous vicinity. When the lady of the house had made her agile | escape through the window, it was with an inten- tion of flight. as her guard supposed. He did not foliow her through the window, but unlocked the room door, and ran out into the passage, making his way toward the rear exit from the house. But he calenlated somewhat wrongly, for. as he ovened the kitchen door, he found himself half- — blinded by the descent of a broom in the strong hands of the virago. Retreat was of little avail. | She had the whip hand, and was bound to keep it, | n-ing her weapon with such rapidity and vigor that in atoinute she had her antagonist fairly cornered and at her mercy. Such was the situation of affairs when Jack came upon the scene, just_in time to witness the comical denovement to the affray. : Taking advantage of the fact that the lady was,
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Will Wildfire’s Racer. for the moment, hors-de-combat, Jack ran forward, and quickly slipped a pair of handcuffs over her dis- armed hands, * Business, ma’am,” he said, apologetically. ** You'll be wanted, you know—you and your pais, ‘So you'll excuse the little liberty which Iam taking with you. You can come back, Frank!” he cried, to his cowed comrade, “the dragon is muzzled.” “The devil take her for ashe-tiger!” cried Frank, wiping off the blood which flowed from more than one deep scratch on his face. ‘Shoot me if I wouldn’t socner have a baker's dozen of Kilkenny cats clawing atme. I'll give in, Jack; I've met my ‘match for once in a woman.” “Let me at bim again, the bnaby-faced cata- mount!’ screamed the woman, striving to struggle to her feet, while Frank started back in involuntary alarm. But we must return to the race-course, where Pete had just tumbled to the ground, after bringing his horse safely in as winver of the race, The uproar was indescribable. Fifty men in an instant broke into the track, some with a wild in- tention of stopping the unchecked horse, some to lift up the fallen driver, With the hoarse shouts /of men were mingled the screams of women, it | being feared by all that the boy must have been killed by his fall. iad Se Will!” cried Clara, with a scared | “Great Heaven, face, ‘‘is he—” ie Z But Will was gone. With little heed to who sat ‘before him, he tumbled headlong down the line of benches crushing more than one hat, and injuring /more than one bonnet in his rapid descent, and bouncing at last into the arena among the first of ‘those who had succeeded in entering. Clasping the insensible boy in his arms he ran hastily with him toward the judge’s stand, where some cushions were quickly arranged to lay him upon. Lor he hurt? Is he bleeding?” came from more ‘than one anxious spectator. “Only stunned, I think,” said Will. ‘There is no blood. ‘He seemed to strike on his head. I hope it | has not produced concussion of the brain.” / “Concussion, the deuce! Is that all you know about the thickness of a darky’s skull?” asked |Pierce Browning who had hurried up. * He could not have hit on a safer point.—Let me at him, I know something about contusions.” | ‘They fell back a little, while Pierce bent over to |examiue the boy. Meanwhile Black Bess had stopped of her own ac- leord, when she found she was no longer pushed by ‘competing horses. The intelligent creature stood ‘striving to look backward, as if anxious to know | what had become of her driver, : * Come, lass; come. honey!” cried Pomp, seizing ‘her bridle, and stroking her scothingly with his large hand. *‘ Neber was such a knowin’ hoss. Got face sense nor half de humans I’s eber see’d, Come, sweetheart; vou’s got de race, an’ dat Lady | Clare ain’t nowhar,” | He led the horse gently toward the sheds, followed | by an admiring crowd. a |_“Has anybody got a flask of whisky?” asked Pierce after examining the boy. If he had asked for a pistol at a western barbecue he could not have been better served. “ Pocket pistols,” loaded with whislcy *‘ warranted to kill at so many paces,” appeared on all sides, and at least a dozen were thrust toward his hand, “ This will do,” remarked Pierce with a laugh, “TI don’t want to bathe the boy in whisky.” He poured a_few drops from an open flask down Pete’sthroat. Ithadamagicaleffect. Along-drawn sigh came from the boy, whose eyes opened the next instant, gazing wildly upward. “How do ‘you feel, Pete?” cried Will, anxiously _ bending over him. | “Kinder scrumptious,” returned the boy, whose 24 senses were rapidly coming back, ‘‘ What's row?” ‘You got thrown in the race, that’s all.” Pete looked up in his master’s face with a glance of sudden intelligence, “Lawsee! I know it all now. Black Bess didn’t git beat? Don’t nobody say she did!’ ‘*No!” replied the judge, “she won the race.” “Knowed she would,” broke in Pete. ‘ What's her time?” “She made it in 2:19 1-4,” ‘*Hoopee!”’ cried the boy, in a feeble tone of triumph. ‘‘Got a bet on dat. A jack-knife 'g*in’ a pair of ole boots. Dat jagk-mnife's mine.” “Do you feel sick still?” “Nary sick. I's all right,’ returned Pete, scramb- lig fo ‘his feet. ‘*Can’t kill dis little nig so easy as ab. ‘But what was the matter, Pete? What sickened you in the race?’ anxiously inquired Will. “Tdunno. Felt like 'sif a streak of greased. light- nin’ was boring holes all froo me, Hung out ’s long’s Icould, It was dem all-fired peanuts dat de parson gub me, sure’s you lib.” This remark elicited some further questions, in which the whole story of the tract distributor came out, Pete still had some of the nuts in his pocket. One or two of these on close examination, proved to have been split open, and neatly gummed to- gether again. while the kernels had been treated with some substance that gave them a yellowish hue. ‘The infernal rascals!” cried Pierce indignantly. “They have been trying to sicken the boy and throw him out of the race. Wouldn't I like to have hold of that parson !— Do you fee) sick still, my boy?” “Not much. If nobody's got no ‘jections I’s gwine to take a scoot roun’ arter dat parson. Jess want to gib him back his track, you see;—an’ de rest ob his peanuts,” But the parson was already out of the grounds. making his way, with a pair of sadly disappointed confederates, toward the home of Luke Lester. All their schemes had failed, and Black Bess had proved too much for her foes. de CHAPTER XVII. A CAPTURE AND A RESCUE, “THAT was a raseally close clip,” remarked Pierce Browning. as he, in company with Will Wildfire and Ben Huntly, made his way toward Wildflower Hall. It is a merey that Black Bess was not thrown. Your friends, whoever they were, worked hard in the effort.” “1 told you she would win, if she only had a fair chance,” replied Will. ‘*I knew it was in her,” “T faney the pair of you were of that notion, by the way you have been backing her,” remarked Ben, me aoe must have realized a pretty penny from your bets.” “A trifle of ten thousand or so,” rejoined Will, with affected indifference. Pierce smiled quietly. and said nothing, bd * And the conspirators must have lost according- ly; for I know that Mark Preston Jaid some heavy wagers against your horse, There is no doubt that he is at the bottom of this business.” *, “And of another business, if1 am not mistaken, seperied Wilk thats” hat business is that?” “Trefer to those burglaries. Nobody but he ar- ranged that attempt on Miss Moreland’s house; for the stolen papers would be of use to nobody else. That is the next task to be accomplished, the recoy- ery of those stolen documents.” Will’s lips were set with a firm energy that showed it would go hard with Mark Preston, should they once come to a personal encounter. “T would not trust him half_as far as a man could fling ap elephant,” rejoined Pierce. “But what is wrong yonder? Isn't that Pete beckoning to us as if his arms were the sails of a windmill?”
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28 Will Wildfire’s Racer. “Pete? Soitis. There is something wrong there. That is Luke Lister’s house.” They had nearly reached the summit of the Dar- by-road ascent, when they thus perceived the little ebony jockey frantically beckoning to them. He stood in front of Luke Lister’s habitation, and made the most earnest efforts toinduce them to hasten their movements. “ Hil’ he exclaimed, in prudently subdued ac- cents. ‘‘Hurry updar. ‘tirup yer hosses. Yere’s de berry debil broke loose, suah!”’ The three friends rode rapidly up at this energetic summons, Before reaching the house they heard sounds of a struggle and of excited voices, which ceased as they approached, “What is the matter, Pete?’ “Murder, [s’pect. Or sumfin wuss,” Pete serious- ly replied. ‘‘I jess got yere, a minute ago, comin’ *cross lots, and dar’s been de ridiculousest time in dat house you eber heerd. S‘pect the furniture’s all mashed into toothpicks.” Springing hastily from their horses, and throwing Pete the reins, the three friends rushed quickly to the house, from which some sounds very much like oaths were yes issuing. But we must go back a little, to seek the source of this wild uproar, When Mark Preston, Luke Lister, and the parson, left the grounds of the race-courss, it was with curses at their ill-suecess, while each accused the other of negligence in his part of the scheme. “Hang it all, the boy ate the nuts!” exclaimed the parson. ‘It isn’t my fault if they were so slow in working. I didn’t doctor them or I’d have made them double him up sooner.” “The little hound must have a nickel-plated stomach,” replied Luke. ‘ He tookin enough medi- cine to bring down any reasonable Christian before the first quarter was made. It wouldn’t have an- swered to overdo it, and salt him before the race started.” “*T don’t care what the blazes was the trouble,” cried Mark, indignantly; ‘all I know is, you've salt- ed me by your tricks. I’ve bucked against Black Boss with nearly every cent I had in the world—and it’s all gone to the dogs.” “Hang it all! I’m no better off,” retorted Luke. “'They’ve just wiped me out. I'll have to realize on some of the stock left me by my uncle, to make things even.” He gave a knowing wink, which the others seemed to appr ciate. “For your part, you have the papers presented ee by your aunot,’? he continued, turning to ark. “That's so,” said Mark. half drawing a package of papers from _a side-pocket. ‘‘There’s money in them. And if I don’t make that proud jade wince befora Tam done with her, it’s odd.” A sinister smile marked his face as he turned his horse toward the city, and gave him the ruin, “Ba on your guard,” he called back to Luke. “Rememb-r what I told you. It won't be two days before — track you out. You had best vamose the ranch, instanter.” “T have my plans lail for to-morrow,” raplied Luke. ‘The stars can hardly come down on me be- fore that time. After to-morrow morning they will finl an oo house waitin s for them.” Mark rode off at an easy pace, bis wounded arm preventing him from attenuating any rapid m>ve- ment, His two confederates stood still conversing, After some time thus spent, they were joined by a third, an ill looking, raw-boned fellow, who seemed in their full confi lence. Finally, after the conclusion of the race, the three men started across the fields toward Luke's resi- denes, which was not very far distant. Luke was on the point of throwing open the back door of the house, and boldly entering, when some peculiar noises from within made him pause. He recognized the voice of his wife, who was expressing f her opinion of some one in what seemed no com= plimentary terms, Making a warning signal to his companions, he moved slyly around the corner of the building to a side window, which he found stunding wide open. Climbing gee a through this, he advanced on tiptoe to the door of the room which he had entered. is wife was still scolding in a loud, rasping voice, though no answer came from the person to whom she addressed her complimentary harangue. Event- ually, however, his patience appeared to give way, an | he growled out: “By the Lord, woman! I’ll put a gag on your tongue as well as on your hands, if you don’t lay a curb on your eloquence.” “*You will, will you? Blast your eyes!” cried a loud voice near him. Before he could defend himself he received a flerca blow between the eves from Luke Lister’s heavy fist, which kuocked him prostrate to the floor, This sudden entrances of the man to the house was followed by that of his two comrades. Luke flung himself on the slighter-built detective, whom he had taken so by surprise, while his comrades quickly re- aoe the bonds by which his wife was confined to a chair, “Here, give us the end of that rope, and we'll truss up this turkey!’ cried Luke, whose prisoner was st mugging vigorously to escape. A yell of alarm broke from the lips ‘of the latter. followed by a fierce blow from Luke’s heavy hand upon his mouth, eum want your head split open?’’ savagely growled the villain, as he kneeled on the breast of his captive. ‘*Maybe you don’t know who you're fooling with?” “There’s another of them up stairs!’ cried the woman, “ Look out for him, Luke!” Luke started up with a curs», leaving his captive to the hands of his two comrades, There was a quics, flerce struggle, but they succeeded in binding him hand and foot, while the master of the house ran quickly up-stairs. The noise of the struggle had not failed to alarm Jack Brace, who was again engaged in investigat- ing the burzlars’ store-room. He ran quickly down-stairs, appearing at the head of the lower flight a moment after Lulu had passed that point. It needed not Frank's warning ery. glance was enough to show what had occurred, **Release him! or hang me if I don’t drop the pair of you!” yelled Jack, covering the parson and his rawboned associate with the muzzle of a revolver. “You didn’t calculate to get the whip hand of Jack Brace so easy as that? If you did, I fancy you've made a slight mistake.” “Devil the mistake!’ came a voice behind him, and the heavy fist of Luke Lister fell like a sleijge- hammer on the back of his head, The assault was so unexpected and so violent that Jack lost his balance and was hurled like a catapult headlong down the stairs, the pistol flying from his hand, and striking with a heavy thud against the front door, Before he could rise again the two men had flun: theomselvesupon him, and a sharp struggle ensued, Jak being noted for his vigor and activity, But he had been hurt and confused by his fall, and even before Luke could descend to the aid of his companions, they had secured their prisoner, twist- ing tightly around his arms the remainder of the rope with which Frank had been bound, Jack lay, breathing heavily, and glaring with angry eyes at his conquerors, ; ‘A pair of bousebrea’ ers. eh! Lucky we came to hind in time,” remarked Luke. with a sneering scowl. “Tt is not often that fishermen get caught so nicely on their own lines,” “Pile in,” growled Jack. “It’s your turn now. Make the most of it. But I’ve a notion you'll find you've caught a Tartar, before you’re through with this little game,”
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Will Wildfire’s Racer. “Then we'd best skin our Tartar, while we’ve got him,” retorted Luke. “ Where are your friends? Why don’t you whistle them up?” — . “They don’t need whistling,” replied Jack, with a meaning smile. . He had caught some sounds outside which the others had not heard, As he spoke the front door of the house vpened, giving entrance to WM Wild- fire and his two friends, who stood looking with momentary doubt upon the scene. : “Will Wildfire! Hell's blazes!’’ cried Luke, glaring at the intruder. “In the name of the law, gentlemen,” exclaimed Jack. ‘We ave officers, who have been overcome in our duty by these rogues. We call on you for rescue,”” * - i *Rescue’s the word!” ejaculated Will, springing forward. ‘‘And here’s one good blow for Black Bess, on the hound who tried to poison her.” Luke attempted to defend himself from the blow, but Will’s fist fell, straight as a plummet, on his temple, knocking him to the floor as heavily as if he had been a log. Simultaneously Pierce stepped forward and grasp- e’ the parson by the collar with his two bands, lifting him from the floor as if he weighed no more than a leaf, and holding him for a moment suspended, while a mocking smile curled his handsome lips, “A sort of cat-and-mouse business, isn’t it?” he said. Meanwhile Ben Huntly had disposed of the third, clasping him in a close wrestle, which ended, after a minute, in the villain being heavily me. “Dat’s him! Dat’s him!” screamed Pete, appear- ing at this minute at the door. “That's who?” “De little one. Dat’s de parson who gub me de peanuts and de track.” ‘ “The deuce you say!"’ returned Pierce, loosing his prisoner, while at the same moment he gave him a dexterous trip, causing him to measure his length on the floor. “Sure’s you lib it’s him. An’ what’s more, I’s got dat track yet—and some of dem peanuts. I eat my share ob’em. He's got to masticate de balance.” ** No, no!” cried the parson, with a shudder. “the boy is right,” laughed Pierce, setting his foot on his prisoner. ‘Tit for tat is a fair game. He shall digest the peanuts and the tract, if T have to drive them down his throat with a force-pump.” CHAPTER XVIII. DOCTORING THE. PARSON, A Frew minutes only have elapsed since the date of our last chapter, but there have occurred several important changes in the situation. The two offi- cers have been released from their bonds, and in their place the three villains now lie, securely bound and watched with a look of cynical satisfaction by the men who so lately seemed completely in their toils, * By Jupiter, gentlemen!” cxclaimed Jack Brace, “T don’t know where you have had your education in fist logic, but when you hit something gives way. I never saw a neater kn -lown argument than that which floored our friend here, Mr. Phil Handy.” “Phil Handy?’ asked Will, in surprise. “Yes. The chap that felt the wind of your knuck- les. That is the name he sails under,” ‘He travels under false colors, then,” replied Will. ‘His real name is Luke Lister.” “Luke Lister! Whew!” whistled the detective, looking keenly into the scowling face of his victim, “So! That smells of business. Why, I’ve been wanting a man of his inches these six months, and didn’t iknow where to nail him. “Tr’s an infernal lie!’ growled Luke, “There’s not & Warrant against me.” “TL hope it will do your heart good to keep think- ing 80,” rejoined Jack, coolly. ‘‘At any rate this purglary business will settle your hash, without rak- ing up any old sco; a What is that?” asked Will, eagerly, “T only mean that we've nailed here the night- hawks who have been making things lively these six months, And havestruck, in this retired mandion, a well selected assortment of contraband goods.”’ “T knew it!” cried Will, energetically. “lt was they that robbed Miss Moreland’s house.” *T should rather fancy so, since we traced them by the horse which they left behind on that interest- ing occasion.” A deep curse came from the lips of more than one of the baffled villains, on learning how they had been trapped. “Then they have got the stolen papers!” exclaim- ed Will. “The documents which are such a serious loss to Miss Moreland.” **No doubt of it,”’ said Jack. A mocking smile curled Luke's lips. “T hope you will find them,” he sarcastically said, ze We have got the whip hand of youin that, at any rate. ; **Not much,” broke in Pierce. ‘We know where they are, which is as good as having them.” “Where?” “In Mark Preston’s possession.” A quick change of expression came upon Luke's face, which Pierce did not failto observe, It was followed, however, by a dogged look. “ Mark Preston is not in the business,"’ he replied. “You've got us nailed, Isuppose. But I'll bet you high you don’t get us to sell out our friends.” “Maybe the pious-looking gentleman may be kinder,” remarked Pierce, referring to the parson, “| think he will t 11 us whether or not Mark Preston has those papers.” “Much I will,” was the obstinate answer. not taking any such taffy.” “Gin him de peanuts,” cried Pete. ‘ Dat's de sort of med’cine he wants.” “That is just what I am going to do,” Pierce coolly announesd ‘“T’ve a notion, after he has swallowed areasonable dose of them his memory will come back ” * No, no!” exclaimed the alarmed villain, “I will not take them.” “Perhaps not; butI have a notion you will.” re- plied Pierce, with inflexible determination. “ Hand out the provender, Pete. If he don’t tell where those papers are, hang me if I don’t load him with every kernel of tnose nuts, and ram down the tract for wadding. I think he needs to digest his own ob- servations on the sin of gambling.” A look of nervous apprehension came upon the parson’s face. He set his teeth firmly, as if deter- mined not to swallow the obnoxious dose. “The gentleman is going to resist,’’ said Pierce, kneeling over him. ‘‘ Lend me your knife, Ben, till I pire oren his teeth. Have you the nuts ready, ‘ete? The boy, his face radiant with impish delight, had been eagerly picking out the doctored nuts from the sound ones. He opened the former and extracted the yellowish stained kernels. “Tam “T've got de provender,” announced Pete, grin- ning. “ Lawsee! won’t he squirm when he gits a dose of thunder an’ lightnin’ inside him? Guess what’s good fur de jockey is good fur de Y imho The face of the latter showed intense distaste and dread. He strove vigorously to keep his teeth clinched, but the strong blade which Pierce forcibly thrust between them soon wrenched them open. “Don't give in,’ warned Luke. ‘It will all be over in five minutes, and then we can laugh at them.’ ‘* Will it?” asked Pierce, sarcastically, “Maybe not. It is not so far away to a drug store, my dear sir, If this dose don’t work we will try some others, There are such agreeable mixtures as ipecac, and croton oil, and cow-itch and some other charming applications. If nothing else serves I will do up the parson, from head to foot, in mustard plasters, and lay him by till he comes to hissenses,”’ All this was spoken with such cold-blooded firm-
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- \ 30 ness and deliberation, that a shudder ran through the frame of the parson, and cold sweats broke out alloverhim. He held up his hand pleadingly. ‘Don't let him slide!” screamed Pete. *‘ He done dosed me; ard he’s got to swaller dem peauuts, or darll be sumfin bu’st.”’ * Are you ready to confess?” asked Pierce, “Tf you do, I will murder you!” yelled Luke. “All right, Let me have the nuts, Pete. If they don’t bring bim around, I will send you over to the arg store.” he parson’s hand was again lifted, while a con- vulsive dread marked his face. ‘| will confess,” he éried. , “Tf you do—” Luke again threateningly began. But his speech was abruptly ended by Jack Brace’s heavy hand, which descended upon his lips. 0 toed withdrew his knife blade from the parson'’s th, “Mark Preston has got the papers,” he cried. “Where?” asked Will, eagerly. «Tn his pocket. He showed them to us not an hour ago,’ _ “Good!” exclaimed Will, jumping hastily to his feet. ‘And we saw him jogging back to Philadel- hia. We can overtake him if we ride hard. Where decisive. “And if this proves a lie, I will not forget you,” Said Pierce with a threatening gesture toward his prisoner. “TL swear he had them an hour ago,” asseverated the latter earnestly, There was a Jook of intense disapproval on Pete's face as he followed his master out to the fence, where the horses were patiently waiting. “Dat’s all mighty nice fur you gemmen,” he ‘owled discontentedly. ‘ You's got what you want s’pose. But {dunno as I's paid up fur de thunder an’ lightnin’ in my internals. I ain’t let up on dat parson yit, nohow.” by Jack Brace and his comrade followed their rescu- ers out, requesting them to send a certain telegram to the city from Paschalville. Here was an bag a tunity for Pete. Quick as a flash he stole back to ‘the house. Thethree prisoners had taken advan- tage of the momentary absence of their captors, and were engaged in a conversation, in which threats and curses formed the chief part. “You can blow till you’re blind,” said the parson angrily. “That chap meant business, and I don’t believe you would have stood making a drug store of your stomach any better than I did. Do you sup- pose I wanted to be griped like that infernal nigger was when he fell from the sulky?” The parson made a slight error in opening his _ mouth for this speech, for, before he could close it again, several hard substances were dropped into it, almost choking him as they lodged in his throat. “Yal yal” laughed Pete in intense glee. “De ‘fernal nigger’s got de game now. We'll see how de parson lubs doctored peanuts.” Coughing, choking, and screaming with fear and rage, the bound prisoner managed to roll over on his side, and to eject the distasteful morsels, but not until every portion of the powerful drug with which they were anvinted had passed down his throat, is struggles and the panic of dread which affected him, only hastened the operation of the medicine, and when the detectives returned, after their short absence, it was to find the parson squirming over the floor, yelling with severe pain, and oceasionally doubled-up to a greater degree than Pete had been in the sulky. » As for the latter individual, he was simply wild with glee, rolling over the floor in ae pe of laughter, while yells of impish delight echoed the screams of agony from his victim. “ Hallo!’ cried Jack Brace, on beholding the un- expected scene, “ What is going on here}” Will Wildfire’s Racer. “Nothin’,” returned Pete, “only I’ve gub de doe. | tor adose of his own med’cine. Didn’t he physic me fur de hoss-race? Jess you bet it’s Pete’s turn now. And the boy burst ont again into his wild fits of jaughter; rolling and clapping his hands with de- ght. _ Meanwhile the three horsemen were pushing af a lively pace over the road toward thea city. Few words passed between them, but their lips were set and their eyes flashing at the hope of at last bringing the leading villain to his well-deserved punishmi-nt, _ On Will's face particularly this stern expression rested, and he spurred his horse ae cruel energy as he thought of the object before um, They halted for a few minutes at Paschalville, When they set out again they were accompanied by a mounted officer, bearing a warrant for the arrest of Mark Preston, The sun was potting, low in the western sky when they reached the borders of the built-up portion of the city. They had gained the long wall of Wood- land Cemetery when tiey first perceived, at a con- siderable distance in advance, a horseman, who, as they could plainly make out, carried his right arm in a sling. “Our game, for a thousand!” cried Pierce. “ He is jogging along to save his arm. We will come on him like a thunderbolt.” They were very close at hand before the horseman in advance seemed to hear their rapid approach, He then looked around, showing the expected visage of Mark Preston, A strange expression shot over his face, His first impulse appeared to be to put his horse t» its speed, But asecond thought showed him that this was ueless. “Halt!” ericd Will, sternly, ‘‘We have a slight matter of business with you, Mr. Mark Preston.” “T have none with you,’? Mark haughtily replied, paying no attention to tis peremptory order. ‘ In the next instant Pi ree had vigorously grasped his bridle, near the bit, and was facing him with a stern expression. “Do your duty,” hes “What does this o flerce accents. ‘ Who highway?” “{ do,” replied the officer, “by virtue of this warran' of arrest.” “It is all up, my good sir,” remarked Ben Huntly. “Your pals have blown on you, and we will rake you in as the ringleader of a gang of burglars.” “Tt is a lie!” screamed Mark. “I defy you to prove it!” “ “ We shall see about that!” cried Will, seizing him by thearm, ‘Search him, officer.” Mark made a fierce effort to escape, but he was held as if in avise In an instant more the alert fingers of the officer had extracted a thick packet of papers from the inside oe of the prisoner’s coat. and held them up to Will’s inspection, “Good! They are the papers!” cried the latter. “*Do you keep them in charge for the present, and conduct your prisoner to the nearest magistrate’s office, where we will prefer our charges against him.” Mark Preston’s pale face grew lividly pallid as the small cavalcade turned and made its way toward the office of a justice, the hand of the officer firmly clasping the bridle of the prisoner’s horse. CHAPTER XIX. AN HOUR BEFORE THE FIRP. A cuerrrut fire burned in the open grate in the pleasant sitting-room of Miss Moreland’s residence. The surroundings were delightful. ,The mantle of rose-streaked marble, with its delicate bronze fig- ures, and the magnificent Sevres vase in its center, the soft tints of the walls and carpet, the flow of fleecy curtains, the attractive pictures, the display of richly-bound books on the center table, gave the room an aspect of charmivgness and comfort com- id to the officer. yvre mean?” asked Mark, in ares stop me on the public
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‘Will Wildfire’s Racer. 81 bined, which was not detracted from by the figure of the beautiful mistress of the house, clad in tender grays, and nestling in her soft arm-ehair before the glowing fire. : : A warm color was pon her cheeks which doubled her beauty, A Soft luster filled her eyes; her lips were half parted, Evidently some pleasant thoughts were flowing unchecked throu zh her brain. “*Te it could be!” she murmured; and then turned cuddenly, the warm blood flowing up to cheek and row, For there stood the form of him who had evident- ly been in het thoughts, the erect figure and frank face of Will Wildfire. He had qos entered, and re- mained with his hat in his hand, gazing admiringly on the charming tableau before him, “Tf you knew what a picture you were making you would never have stirred,” he said, ‘1 would give more than a penny for the thoughts which filled your mind just now. “They are not for sale,” was her laughing and blushing response But T am so glad to see you, Let me have your hat.—Here, take this geat. You look cold, Come up close to the fire,” “T am not so cold but that your warm welcome will serve to drive away the chill,” he gallantly re- plied, ‘‘And I have got something for you more cheering than even 4 coal fire,” he continued, as he took the chair she had set in front of the grate: “Something for me!” cried Clara eagerly; draw- ing her chair near his, and nestling again in its soft depths, ‘What is it? Do tell me at once. You know I can never bear to wait,” “But you must wait,” laughed Will, “I shall not encourage ony such ereces mt patience,” “Of course I am cbildish,” she quick 18 edi Reo aunivabance.? | ly responded “No doubt you do. But suppose I am not ready to give it at once? “Oh! I don't care! I don’t want it at all,” she petulantly replied, drawing herself back in her chair, and looking the picture of disdain, u But she could not keep up this mood for a minute. The amused smile on Will’s face was followed by a quick burst of laughter from her, “You are too bad!” she exclaimed, “ Give it to me, at once!” “Not till you give me something in return,” he said in a quieter tone, though the smile still played about his lips. |. She looked at him an instant with inquiring eyes, and then fell back in her chair, her gaze fixed upon the fire, while a tinge of color came into her cheeks, For a minute not a word passed between them, The smile faded from Will's lips, and was replaced wih magnet jet r ie You kaow what I mean,” he began, takin hand, which was not withdrawn, “It is not the first time, Clara, that I have dared—” He hesitated. “What is it you have brought me?” she asked, in a changed tone. uel have brought you my love!’ he exclaimed. The honest devotion of a young heart, but a true one, Clara.” _ He had drawn his chair nearer hers, and was look- ing eagerly into her flushed face and sparkling eyes. * And I know you return it,” he declared, cantur- ing the other hand, ‘TI know my love is not given in vain, for you have told me—-”” “ Thave told you that we were only boy and girl, and too young to think of such things,” she replied. But she left her hands in bis, and partly turned her face from his earnest gaze. “We are not too young to love!’’ he cried. ‘And I know you love me, Clara! Say that you love me!” Her eyes, bright but suffused, turned again slowly to his; the pink in her cheek deepened and spread; her i slightly parted. Tor a minute they sat look- ing at each other thus, his face intense with eager- ness, hers soft with emotion. ‘Then she spoke. “*T love you.” They needed but to bend further toward each other, and their lps met; in the long, clinging, first kiss of Jove, while their Bparkiive eyes looked into each other, as in two lakes of iiifnite trust ald. love, Will's arm had slipped around her slender waist, and they sat thus for many minutes, lost in each other, and oblivious to all the world without. Nearly an hour had passed ere Olara returned again to her first Setar “What is it you have brought me; Wilt’ “Myself,’* he teplied, with a smiling look: “No, noj there is something else,” she quickly replied, ‘‘{t is not fair in you after all- after—” “after your giving yourself to me in return,” he rejoined, with another kiss, “Yes, I have brought you something, Clara, I will not keep you in sus- pense any longer.” Her eyes burned with eagerness as heslowly drew from his pocket a closéd package. Removing the enveloping cover he held it up before her eyes. “My lost papers!” she ejaculated, quickly seein it, ‘“Thatis too fortunate! Where in the world di you get them? Have the burglars been caught? Who were they? Do tell me all immediately!” ‘They have been captured,” he replied. ‘* And it was as We supposed.” “Mark Preston? * f ‘Yog, and his confederate, Luke Lister, the Eng- lish sport." “T knew it!” she exclaimed, excitedly, ‘This is too good! You do not know what these are worth tome, They are the proofs on.which my possession of my alin fortune rests, Mark Preston might have beggared me—how shall I ever repay you?” “You have repaid me,” he rephed, looking at her with a warm meaning in bis eyes. She returned his gaze for a moment, and then threw her arms impulsively around his neck, kissing him with loving fervor on the lips. “T love you, dear Will!” she cried. “T shall love you. for ever and ever and ever.” . And we will leave them 0, before that flashing glow, their hearts warmer than the fire on the hearth their young love adding the last charm needed to make the room a perfect nest of delight. And here our story ends. We have but some loose threads to take up, some frayed ends of plot, to give a finish to the tale through which our readers have so kindly accompanied us, Of course the burglars gob their deserts, The whole party of them were sent to the penitentiary for terms of imprisonment ranging from five to ten years, Add to this the failure of all the schemes of the ringleaders, the loss of the heavy wagers they had laid against lack Bess, the recovery of Clara Moreland’s papers, and it may be seen that with: them the path of crime did not run smooth, but that retribution followed wrong-doing with swiit and steady course. Our other friends are all active and. well-doing, Pete remains in charge of Black Bess, who has won ae races since her memorable victory at Suffoll Park. i Old Pomp still hangs out at the Bell, the establish- ed oracle of the race-course for «ll the country round, As for Pierce Rrowning, he is enjoying life in the same listless, easy-going way as ever. He is contin- ually telling his friends that he expects scon to marry and settle down; but no one has yet seen any evidence of his intention to do so, Ben Huntly is oceupied now in training for the Fall races of the Schuylkill navy, being as eager a pe as ever, and as fond of sport in every shape. ; As for Will Wildfire, he is not vet married. Clara has declared that they are both too young, yet, Shea it is whispered that the happy Cay is not far off. And meanwhile he keeps open house to his friends at Wildflower Hall, whose old rafters ring with the songs and merry laughter ¢f many a jovial party, < THE END,
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32 OCTAVO PAGES. 2 "i AD LE's \.. PRICE, FIVE nis TS, a POCKET LIBRARY. BHBRADAADRD BAD HDDHDADHDDDNDRDDDARDDARHARARARHAADA AAD 5 pb p I Deadwood Dick; the Prince of the Read. By Ed- | % Island ims or, The Pet of the Family. By Brace- . , x ; bridge e Taent k n Kans:s Wings or, The Red Right Hand. By Buf- | 7@ Wateh-Eye, its Shadews By ¥dward Li Wheeler. The Flying Fankee. By Carr Eset ides neni am: the Sport. By eeler: Bob Woolf, the Border Ruffian. By E, L. Wheeler. | 104 Phe Black Schooner. By Starbuek. Nightingale Nat. By T. C. Harbaugh 105 Handrome Marry, the Bootblack Detective. By Black John, the Road Agent. By J. E. Badger, Jr. | HATIC® DlOY EAS Omaha OM, the Mask d Terror. By E. L. Wheeler. | Burt Bankes te ei ioe E, Lasalle. | 308 Rock Kit. By Tarbaugh The White ifalo, “ny George E. Lasalle. 109 ‘The Branded Hand, By Frank Dumont. Jim Bludsoe, J By Wiward’ Li Wheeler " 110 The Drend Rider. By George W. Browne. Pe nde Fa vanness . By. Capt, Ja. Co] aan eaee Weed. the King Oc Bootblacks, By Rol-Wheban; inet y Trapper. By Capt. J. F.C.) 419 The Helpless Hand. By Capt. Mayne Reid. By Auffato Bul. | 22% Scar-Face Saul, the Silent Hunter. By Oll Coomes, B.C, Adams, 114 Piney Paul, the Mountsln Boy. By T. C, Harbaugh, E. bs Wheelks: 115 Deadwood Dick’« Double. By L, Wheeler. 4 2 116 Jabez Coffin, Skipper. By Capt. F. Whittaker. Old Hickory. By y 3 117 Fancy Frank, of Colorado. By Buffalo Biil. 44 The a hite pale ay hele seth MY eer 118 Will Wildfire, the Thoroughbred, By Chas. Morris, i, y Ed ae ler. 7 The Shadow Ship. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 119 Blonde Bill; or, Deadwood Dick’s Home Base, The Red Brotherhood. By W. J. Hamilton. By Edward L, Wheeler. 48 ane tacks bs. POA ARAN 5 120 Gopher Gid, the Boy Trapper. By T. C. Harbaugh. Single Hand. By We. il Perla 2 zs 121 Harry Armstrong, the Gentale ofthe Club, By Patent-leather Joe. By Philip S. Warne. Bracebridge Hemyng, (Jack Harkaway.) re ane papper ter ind ps Pe 122 The Hunted Hunter. By E4ward S, Ellis. 0 e, the Sharpshooter. By Ed. L. Wheeler, 7 = y Old Zip’s Cabin. By Capt. J. F.C. Adams, 128 Solid amy the Boy Road a ae 5. Ly Wheeler, Dolayere oe By oF asa 4 124 Judge Lynch, Jr. By T. C. Harbaugh. Ma ‘om Western, By W. J. Hamilton. 25 The Land Pirates, By Capt. Mayne Reid, apeacwoed pick or Deck. By E. L. Wheeler. 136 eas Suna 2, - BR ete 2 wkeye Marry. Coomes. y The Boy Duelist. ‘ol. Prantiss Ingraham. 126 Blue Blazes. By Frank Dumont. Ready June 9. Abe Colt, the Crow-Kill By Albert W. Aiken. 127 Tony Foxy the Ferr t; or, Bons Bob’s Boss Job. By Soraasey: eget toys By Edward paves Edward L. Wheeler. Ready June 16, Somers, the Boy Detective. By Chas. is. ‘ 7 v3 . * Sol Ginger, the Giant Trapper. By A. W. Aiken. 128 Black Beas, Will Wildfire’s Racer. By C, Morris. 4 Rosebud Rob. By Edward L. Wheeler. SONY YRS 2 Lightning Joe, the Terror of the Prairie. By Capt. | 129 Eagle Kit, the Boy Demon, By Oll Coomes. J, F.C. Adams. i Ready June 20. At Harefoot, :the Wood-Hawk. By T. C. Har- | 489 Gold Trigger, the Sport. By T. C. Harbaugh, AEs Ready July 1 Rollo, the Boy Ranger. By Ol] Coomes 3 Tdyl, the Girl Mines. By Edward L. Wheeler. Ixaued Every Wednesday. Detective Dick. By Charles Norris. Readle’s Pocket Library is for sale by all News- Sure mnot hath, eee Boy ARES se O1Coomes. | qealerm, five cents per copy, or =f by mall on aosipt of six Y ary by en. centa each, 72 The Lion of the Sea. By Albert W. Alken. ie . “ 78 Photograph Phil, the Boy Slenth. By E. L. Wheeler. BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 74 Picayune Pete. By Charles Morris. 98 William Street, New York. ES aa Sa ae wee eR a ce ES “SS t ~ PR SEMNSTES ——