Deadwood Dick Library (v. 1) (1899 05 24)
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Copyright 1878-188, by Beadle & Adams, Entered at Post Office, New York. N. Y..as second class ma'ter. Mar.-15, 1898 M. J. IVERS & CO., Publishers, Issued Weekly. ; Sulliv Steet * Price 5 Cents. 4 No. ] ile ae ae (James Sullivan, Proprietor,) rte ssi ele May 24, 1899. 379 Pearl Street, New York, $2.50 a Year. Vol | BY EDWARD L. WHEELER. AUTHOR OF “DEADWOOD DICK DOUBLE DAGGERS. CLOVEN HOOF,” ETC., ETO, Ze al eis ‘@M4 BLODSOE, JR., AT YOUR SERVICE!” HE REPLIED, COOLLY.
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EDWARD L. WHEELE iR’S IN THE. HALF- Sane LIBRARY. Price 5 Cents per Copy. | SpeE SE a 443 Deadwood Dick, Jr.; or Crescent Sign. 448 Deadwood Dick, Jr’s, Defiance. 453 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Full Hand. 459. Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Big Round: Up. 465 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Racket A771 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Corral. 476 Deadwood Dick, Jr.'s, Dog Detective. 481 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Deadwood. A491 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Compact. 496 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Inheritance. 500 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Diggings. 508 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Deliverance. 515 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Protege. 522 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Three. 529 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Danger Ducks. 584 Deadwood Dick, Jr. ’s, Death Hunt. 539 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Texas. ’ 544. Deadwood Dick, Jr., the Wild West Vidoeq. 549 Deadwood Dick, Jr, 554 Deadwood Dick, Jr., 561 Deadwood Dick, Jr., 567 Deadwood Dick, Jr., 572 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Chicago. 578 Deadwood Dick, Jr., Afloat. 584 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Denver. 590 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Decree. 595 Deadwood Dick, Jr., 600 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at Coney Island. 606 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Leadville Lay. 612 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Detroit. 618 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Cincinnati. 624 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Nevada. 630 Deadwood Dick, Jr., 636 Deadwood Dick, Jr., After the Queer. 642 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Buffalo. on His Mettle. in Gotham. in Boston. in Philadelphia. 648 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Chase Across the Continent. 654 Deadwood Dick, Jr., Among the Smug- glers, 660 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Insurance Case. 666 Deadwood Dick, Jr., Back in the Mines. 672 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Durango. 673 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Discovery. 684 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Dazzle. 690. Deadwood Dick, J r’s, Dollars. ’ 695 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at Danger Divide. %00 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Drop. 704 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at Jack-Pot. 710 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at San Francisco. For sale by all newsdealers or sent, postpaid, on receipt of price, 5c. per copy, i ers, M. J. IVERS & CO., 379 Pear, Strepr, New York Crry. The Crimson at Claim 10. in Beelzebub’s Basin. in No Man’s Land. 716 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 722 Deadwood Dick, Jr. 728 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 734 Deadwood Dick, Jr. 740 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 747 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 752 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 758 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 764. Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 770 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 776 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 782 Deadwood, Dick, Jr.’ 787 Deadwood Dick, Jr., 792 Deadwood Dick, Jr. 797 Deadwood Dick, Jr. 802 Deadwood Dick, Jr. 807 Deadwood Dick, Jr. 812 Deadwood Dick, Jr. 816 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 822 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 828 Deadwood Dick, Jr. 834 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 840 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 845 Deadwood Dick, A A 852 Deadwood Dick, a 858 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 863. Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 870 Deadwood Dick, Jr.. 876 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 882 Deadwood Dick, Jr. 891 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 898 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 904 Deadwood Dick, Jr. 910 Deadwood Dick, Jr. 916 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 928 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at 934 Deadwood Dick, Jr., 940 Deadwood Dick, Jr. 946 Deadwood Dick, Jr. 951 Deadwoed Dick, Jr. 957 Deadwood Dick, Jr. 965 Deadwood Dick, hie 971 Deadwood Dick, Jr.'s, Oath, 977 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 980 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ -992 Deadwood Dick, dr., 998 Deadwood Dick, Jr. 1005 Deadwood Dick, Jr; 1011 Deadwood Dick, Jr. 1018 Deadwood Dick, pr: s, Still Hunt. ’s, Dominoes, s, Disguise. *s, Double Deal, s, Death-Watch. s, Doublet. s, Death Blow. 's, Desperate Strait. s, Lone Hand. s, Defeat. ah s, Resurrection. s, Dark Days. Defied. ae ’s, Double Device. — ’s, Desperate Ven s, Diamond Dice ‘S; Royal Flush. ’s, Head -Off. Z Rival. s, Boom. *s, Scoop. s, Proxy. s, Clutch. ’s, High Horse. at Devil® Gule s, Death-Hole H s, Bombshell. in Mexico. s, Decoy Duck. , in Siiver Pockei s, Dead-Sure Ga s, Double Drive ’s, Trade- Mark. , at Tip-Top. > s, Double-Decke ollarville. at Flush Flat: ’s, Shake-Up. s, Gold Dest s, Death-Doom s, Best Card. at Gold Dust. s, Big Play. — Branded. ’s, Dutch Par ’s, Big Four.
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ra Sater M. J. IVERS & CO., Publishers, 8s Weekly. amen StALy tetor.) = Price 5 Cents. No, 11, "Siny 2 iite” ggg’ Bini Mires New ork, Seba Year, VOl I ; = Or, THROUGH : | Ee JIM BLUDSOE, J:, the Boy Phenix; °” "rc pears. ——— $+ i BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, - ! AUTHOR OF ‘DEADWOOD DICK,” ‘‘ DOUBLE DAGGERS,” ‘‘CLOVEN HOOF,” ETO., ETO, —_ ‘JIM BLUDSOE, JR., AT YOUR SERVICE!” HE REPLIED, COOLLY. z =e yo : =a <axgg = 2
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3 Jim Bludsoe, Jr. Jim Bludsoe, Jr., -THE BOY PHENIX; oR, THROUGH TO DEATH. A Story of City and Far Western Life, BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, AUTHOR of “ DEADWOOD DICK,” “ DOUBLE DAGGHRS,” **CLOVEN HOOF,” ETC., ETC. CHAPTER I. THE MORGAN INHERITANCE—BOY AND MAN—‘‘ BETTER ENEMIES THAN FRIENDS.”’ Tux opening scene in this eventful drama in real life, occurs in the dingy room of one of the foremost eharacters—a dark, cheerless apartment on the third floor of a low tenement-bouse on Alaska street, jn the Centennial City of Philadelphia, Alaska street you must know is one of the two worst streets in the Keystone State metropolis, and is populated literally with the ‘scum of creation’; for here is the undisputable home of thieves, cracksmen and even murderers—a sort of head-quarters of crime and vice, Hyery well or ill-regulated city has its quarters of this kind, aneye-sore to the respectable and good- doing citizens. In the room on the third floor of Mother Maginn’s tenement, as tne rackety old building was called, there was little that was attractive; poverty and careless neglect were so evivent as to ins sire the be- fief that it was the abode of some beggarly tramp, or bummer, rus There was a dim light strugelin into the room on this drizzling May day, that had hard work to find entrance through the single dirty window. The floor. was bare; the furniture comprised a couple of chairs, a table; stove, cot-bed, and desk; the poorly papered wall was covered with frameless cheap lithographs of noted actresses, such as Lotta, /| down to bell-pulling after col Davenport, Siddons, Clara Morris, etc. And yet the occupant of this domicile was neither a beggar nora i ieetim ene Wop instead, whose age was probably seventeen, although the maturity of face and form would have\pronounced him older by three or four years. In form he was muscular, sym- metrical and graceful, and of about the medium hight of men, his bodily development betraying that he was no stranger to healthy exercise. is com- pact, wiry form was clad in a threadbare suit of ray, with pafones at the knees and elbows of ¢on- rasting colors, which the generosity of old Mother Maginn had pA Sah rpaoe The shoes upon his feet and hat upon costume had lately come from the most fashionable furnishing store in town, The face of the boy was one to study—a face that we do not often encounter, with shrewdness, cool courage, wit, strong passions under excellent con- trol, all exnressed in it—a face with a fresh, healthy tint, and st@la face that when drawn to sternness, roduced a feeling of awe. There are handsome Faces, as the word goes, to be seen almost every block, in a jarge city lixe Philadelphia. If that of this youth was not what an artist would pronounce “handsome,” it was ‘‘ striking,” with a pair of black eyes, whose evident power and keenness were some- thing wonderful. The hair that clustered about his temples in little curls, and ran in waves down the _ back of a well-shaped head was brownish in color, The first struggling approaches of a mustache gr.ced his lip; otherwise his face was bearJess, .Morgan replied, with biting sarcasm. head, were full of air-holes! |, Yet this youth seemed full as happy, as though his'|\. “I had nothing to do with And such was Sam Morgan, Bohemian, odd-jobber and youth of leisure, whom we propose to make the “hero ”’ of this little romance. Sam was perched upon the edge of the bed, as we have described him, picking the strings of an old banjo, and occasionally breaking out with a snatch of some popular song. He fingered the instrument with skill, calling forth melody not often produced in these rude instruments; and, too, his voice was of admirable tone, although there was a single percep: tible fault with it—a quick, jerky manner of deliver ance, peculiar to hear, One verse in particular, pe get to impress a sini ter-faced man, who stood unobserved spectator and listener,in the open doorway, and a frown furrowed his forehead, as he heard the words— “Don’t crowd on your neighbor, I’d advise you With the thought that you'll triumph and win, For friends will all criticise you When I flap up the trump card, ag’in.” The words would seem to have “struck home” to this listener, for his eyes gleamed evilly as he step- ed ieee the threshold into the room, with heavy read, “Well done, boy!’ he said, pa oats «Your voice should gti you a place on the stage.”’ Sam looked up from his banjo, a change of ex. ression coming over his features as he behe ) pressi ing over his feati he beheld th intruder—a thick-set, richly dressed individual of some three and thirty years, with a well-fattened face; almost brigandish it looked with the dark, gray-threaded hair, and heavy black mustache. Dissipation had left deep marks upon his coun. tenance, whose darkened hue was but a reflection from his nature. “Arnold Chelton, you here?” the young tenant of the garret demanded. ‘“Ishould have as soon ex- pected a visit from Old Nick, himself. To whatdol owe this honor?” = “To what? Why to my desire to see to the wek fare of my relatives and acquaintances, and you being a cousin, I could not pass you by without looking in upon you. ‘How do you get along, boy?” “How? Well, sometimes this way and sometimes that. I am at present Bohemianizing it—with as little nourishment as Mother Maginn can spare, after feeding sixteen little Maginns. Haven’t got victuals, yet, how- ever, as you, no doubt, supposed.” _ “IT confess I am surprised that you still hold your head above water,’ Chelton said, Seer a seat, uninvited, and crossih= his legs, while he blew a cloud of smgke toward a ceiling whose ebony hue suggested _a heeded application of the white-wash brush. “TI failed to see how. you could exis, after geting suspended from employment at Wanamak- “Through your instrumentality, my liege lord!” But, it is a saying that ‘a toad is not always killed when step- ped on ’—which applies to my case.” __ The other smothered an imprecation, oth your discharge!’’ he growled, twisting the ends of his mustache. ‘ You stole money, and it was only thraugh Wanamaker’s - leniency that you escaped a.term in Moyamensing prison, which you deserved.” “You're a liar!’ Sam cried, coolly, althouzh he was very much angered. “It was all a conspiracy on your part with one of the foremen, to have me ~ ousted, But, never mind, Arnold Chelton; a seri of reckoning is in store between youand me, yet. Jam a boy in years, but as Nobles says in the Phenia: ‘T’ve_an eye as keen and an arm as‘strong as ths man I have to grapple with.’ You'll find you have amt to fight, in me, even though it will take four years to bring me totwenty-one. Yesterday I was seventeen, and I celebrated the event by four hours’ es as at the gymnasium, and lager beer ers ‘22 ‘ony’s around the corner, A gay time we Bohe : ans have, ‘ <p = ‘ Peiger ty , he iene STE And i
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¢ Py elie te aa a. Jim Bludsoe, Jr. ee ot: 2 * And, now, Arnold Chelton, since you have hon- ored me with a visit, let us come to a permanent un- derstanding.” “Exactly! the elder assented, extending a case of fizgrant cigars. ‘‘ Smoke?” ‘“No, thank you, I never smoke in the presence of greater villains than myself. It is contamina- tion to the atmosphere. Besides, I only shertly ago finished a pipe over the knotty problem of how I was going to raise twenty-five cents to get a square dinner with.” “Let me loan you a dollar.” “Oh! no; guesslam not that hard upyet. Td fo without grub a month before I'd tay: @& penny of the money which you gamble for. That's worse than aera: in my estimation. Now, to business, LT understand that my uncle, and yours, is about to resign his claims upon this life, when one or the other of us must become the possessor of his wealth?” = ‘**T believe that is the decision of the medical fra- t rnity,” Chelton acknowledged, graciously; “and so it again turns out that we are rivals—in fortune asin love.” } “Correct! Rivals, and each has an equal show. I think my chance is about as good as yours—more #0, if you do not instill poison into my uncle’s mind, as you did into that of Louise Lester,” “Your opinion of me is hot very exalted, it ap- ears!’? Chelton sneered, a flush of anger dyeing his ark features. ‘No, not above par,’? Sam declared, with a cool laugh. ‘* We villains are not given ts compliments, you know, strange as it may seem.” “Humph! class yourself with villains,’ Chelton retorted. ‘‘I ama gentleman.” , “Oh! you are? Since when, pray?” “ Always, boy. .Idare youto say you ever knew the time when I was not a gentleman, sir!” “Ha! hal’ and the young Bohemian laughed, tantalizingly. ‘Arnold Chelton, gentleman - and gambler! That sounds well enough among sich as you associate with, but not down here in Alaska street. Don’t dare me to do anything, beloved cousin. It’s dangerous! Any one from the Dela- ware to Mantua will tell you who Sam Morgan is.” “T don’t need to inquire; nor did I come here to compromise. ILecame to make you promise not to interfere in this inheritance business, until after Jacob Morgan has shuffled off this mortal coil.” Sam Morgan stared straight at the man to whom he was unhappily related, thrumming on the old banjo in the mean time, “You came to make me?” he repeated reflective- ly. “T came to make you. See here.” and the vil- Jain drew a paper from }is pocket. ‘This is a warrant for your arrest for burglary. You were in Jacob Morgan’s house, last evéning, and were seen to leave, by way of a window, after failing to attain some unknown object. ‘Three persons saw you, one of the three being your faithful, lovin cousin—myself. I have but to place this documen in the hands of the nearest police officer, to insure ea a ride in the van to the Central, and then to loyamensing !”” The Bohemian received the news with a smile, wh.ch Chelton could not understand. He grew un- eany. re “What do you mean?” he demanded, shifting in his seat. - “Go on and order my arrest. Send me to the county prison, if you like!’ young Morgan said, coolly. ‘‘ While there, I shall write a sensation book about the sudden death of Carrie Moore at the Sherman House!” The effect. of the words were electrical. Chelton Jenpeq to his feet, and staggered back, aghast, every particle of color leaving his face. He trem- bled as in an ague spasm; his eyes glared ‘like _ shose of some infuriate wild beast. Ps You--you—” he began, with warm pressure, e ee ee “Know enough about the matter to h higher than Haman, ture and altitude of youth finished, coolly. crowd on your neigh Ow if you are aware of t eae Haman's predicament!” the — “Let me advise you notto _ rs, Arnold Chelton, lest they erowd back.” 2 “VIL kill you!"’ the gambler foamed. “ Haven't the least doubt but ran will ek Bie but that isn’t saying you'll accomplish your ai Ar- nold Chelton, we two cousins are taking hands in two games of cards—one for hearts and one for' — diamonds; but understand that I will match queens _ against your knaves. I am a boy, and you are a man. [ama Bohemian—you are agambler. Iam a loafer—you are a rascal. Both are to contend for the Morgan inheritance; you will combine foree with villainy; 1 will match cunning against villainy; and we will see who will come out the best.”” = “Thank you,” Chelton sneered, taking off his silic hat, and glossing it with the sleeve of his coat; “Tsee youare disposed to play this hand against _ me. I am ove not to back out; still I have a pro- posaltomake you. _ ; “As I understand it, our uncle’s property, real estate, bonds and ready cash, amounts to some- thing like half a million. Tl give you fifty thousand if you will clear for Europe, and never come back.” “Which I decline!” : re “Then we are to-be enemies?” e “Enemies to the last!’ “Be it so then. Look out for me.” aah “You willdo well to look out for yourself. Re- member that Sam Morgan the young vagabond and Bohemian is not the dog to lay down and die, when there is anything to live for. Thoughaboyinyears, he has the heart and brain ofaman— _ = ““ Witn teeth as sharp > And muscles strong pee And scent as keen And claws as long As a wildcat in its lair!’ * As you like. Iam your enemy, then, henceforth. It is war declared between us?” ‘ . “It is war declared between us. Cunning against scoundrelism—ingenuity against villainy, wit against ‘brute force!” oe Chelton bowed, and left the young Bohemian’s — home, 4 ere CHAPTER II, THE RIVAL’S WOUND, ARNOLD CHELTON left the old tenement in Alaska — street, walked to Eleventh street, where he had some business to transact; then jumped aboard the north- — going cars, and rode until he was several squares north of Girard avenue, when he disembarked and rung the bell of a large, respectable-looking house, — standing out to,the pavement, witha row of others. “He glanced himself over to see that his dress was” faultless in every particular; then looked up with a pleasant smile illuminating his dark countenance, as a mulatto girl opened the door. ; *Good-morning, Lydia,’ the gambler said, with a gracious bow. ‘‘Is your young mistress in?” _ And he extended a perfumed ecard, which the girl received, and hurried away with, instead of inviting him into the parlor. ; . She presently returned however, and ushered him — into a hansomely-furnished reception-room, where everything was quiet elegance; and the matchless taste displayed in the arrangements betrayed a wo- man’s supervision. \ : pe Chelton, surrendering his hat and gloves to Lydia, — sunk into a seat, and at the sound of light footste) upon the carpet, put on a smile of weleome for the vision of brightness, that.came like a ray of © spring sunshine into his presence. ey Ret: , dear ates Lester eae fe camnee SP ein, is feet. and graspi 1€r sI -extended han "How acta ted I am to s
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- grave way. you once more! You are looking sweetly fresh and winning this morning, and if I were a cannibal, I—” You would eat me, no doubt,” the girl replied, with a merry little laugh. And, indeéd, she was lovely, in her airy wrapper, with a bunch of hot-house roses at her throat, and another bunch in her soft, chestnut hair, She was a beautiful creature, in the fullest sense of the word. with a form of symmetrical mold, and a sweet face, of regular feature and creamy com- plexion; eyes brightly blue and sparkling, and a mouth of tempting sweetness. Her manner was free and unconventional; too much so, perhaps, but then she was a young thing yet, just verging on seventven, an orphan heiress, and no one to obey but herself. Old Gerald Lester, on bis death-be’l, had requested that no guardian should be appointed over his child but that she should be left free to do as it pleased her to do, he having entire and proud confidence in her liscretion and judgment. “You must excuse me, dear Miss Louie!”’ Chelton said, drawing her to a seat upon a luxurious sofa, near the window, “for calling upon you. so soon, morning being a poor time for calls. But I am going te New York at twelve, and wanted to bid you ‘00 B "Indeed? I am glad you called. Do you intend to stay in New York?” “T hardly know. Perhaps I shall, as there is nothing to keep me here, that I know of, unless it would be one thing. I have a few friends, but it is an old established fact that the best of friends must rt. “Of course. But, no doubt, your friends would miss you, Mr. Chelton, I among the rest, as you * have been a frequent visitor here since papa died,’’ “ And a very interested visitor, too, dearfriend. I am a man who has seen my share of the bright and dark sides of life; I have moved in the best social circles, and have seen many ladies noted for their wealth, beauty and personal worth. But, believe e, I have never found the idol of my heart, un- “Be careful, Mr. Chelton. Such words as are on your tongue should not be spoken in haste,” the girl said, gravely. “They are words you may be sorry for in the future.” “Oh! no, Louie, dear; IT shall never regret them. Let me out with it—let me tell you that I dearly love you, above all women on the face of this fair earth— that. I worship you, blindly, passionately, as man can love but onee ina lifeti ne; as man never loved before.” ms __ And he went on pouring forth the old, old tale of love, which never grows stale to young hearts; told her of his mad infatuation for her; how he would rene his whole life and labor to make hers the hap- piest lot that ever befell woman. | He appeared deeply sincere, and it seemed as if ae 2 's whole ardent soul found expression from is lips. Tignes Léster listened, with a grave, troubled look upon her face; listened with the knowledge that his words caused a strangé ecstatic sensation in her ‘oung heart. No one had ever spoken of love to her before, although she had ong t she had a faint idea of the meaning of the word; it charmed her now; it was soothing to her heart which had been attacked with a longing for some one to love, since the death of her last parent, a year before. . She listened, and gazed straight into his eyes, with @ look that made him quail. “Mr, Chelton, I have heard you through, and am flattered by your kind offer, but Iam not at libert; to give you an answer yet," sho said, in her sweet, “You pins y know that you have a rival, who, though he has never told me he loved me, tT have every reason to believe does. And I k a great deal of him. Mr. Chelton, does not the vision of Carrie Moore sometimes haunt your dreams?” 5 ; The man leaped to his feet as though he had been. bitten by an adder. His face was deathly white, and atigerish gleam in his midnight orbs betrayed the fact that he was deeply enraged, * He told you to say that, did he?’ was his hoarse demand. = “He did, Mr. Chelton, and it appears that you have a skeleton in the closet!” “Yes! yes!’ he murmured, as though to himself, **so T have, but I'll burden my soul no longer. He swore he'd steal you away from me, but he shall not triumph. Louie, dear, I will tell you all, and Iknow you will not reproach me. I have been aman over whose life for the past two years a blight has hung. Ihave been fighting against remorse, my enemies, and the devil. “Two years ago, I shot and killed this Carrie Moore by mistake. I was stopping at the Sher- man House, in this city, and she was stopping at the same place. I paid her a few proper attentions, and she became infatuated. Ithen was forced to dismiss her, but that only made matters worse. One night, she procured entrance into my sleeping-apartment, with some unknown intention, and waking from a sound sleep and mistak her for a burglar, I shot her through the heart! Ob! Louise, how bitterly I have repented that act; how I have pas that it might all turn out to bea dream. But, such is fated 9 to be the case, The dead cannot be recalled to ife? The man here broke down, and burying his face in his hands, he wept, his whole frame convulsed with his emotion. In all probability his repentance was sincere, And his display of emotion affected Louie more than words could fave done. She was sae ally awakening to a feeling of deep sympathy for this Arnold Chelton, who had ever thus far proven himself a friend and a gentleman; and sympathy is akin to love! “Do not grieve; I believe you,’ she said. “You were not to blame. I like you all the better, then, for telling me.” f * and you do like me—can you Jove me?”’ he ques- : tioned, brightening up, with an intense eagerness in his tone. * Oh, darling! only say that you do love me, and I shall be the happiest man in the city—the very happiest!” ; And using all the arts of one skilled in dissembling —treating her with exquisite gentleness, and adora- tion expressed in word and look— what wonder the artless, inexperienced girl was lured to forgetfulness of her love for another, and drifted almost uncon- sciously into the snare he had so cunningly laid to entrap her into a tacit engagement? Two hours the gambler spent with his innocent prize, picturing the happy life in store for them; then he left, with an early A ae of Promibads e. perhaps happy as he had ever been in his 1t was moré happiness to him that he had won an heiress, and a triumph over an enemy such as was Sam Morgan, the young Bohemian. It was a pleas- ure to know that the youth had lost where, success- ful rogue that he was, he had won. After his departure, Louie Lester sat for a long whilein the reception room, her face buried in her _ hands, and her mind busied with white, jeweled thoughts of what had just passed. “What have I done?” she asked of herself, over and over again. ‘Engaged myself to marry this man, who has fascinated me almost against_my will? ‘ Ah! dollove him? Can Ibe contented and happy, when—when name! Yet what a noble heart he has! Oh! I hope I shall not see him again—never, for it will make me re cision already?’ = z She arose and went to fhe piano that stood open at the further side of the room. Se hei ik ran her fingers lightly over the keys; then stru¢ into a lively galop, producing strains delighi , rt ae oe eee Sam Morgan— Sam Morgan! Whata — ret the past. Ah! canit be that I regret myde-
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Jim. Bludsoe, Jr. Suddenly she turned from the piano, with a faint exclamation of surprise, as the odor of cigar-smoke reached her sensitive nostrils. : “Sam Morgan|’’ she exclaimed, as her eyes rest- ed upon that very individual, who, ensconced upon the sofa, with a cigar between his pearly teeth, and his feet hoisted on top of a chair-back, was evidently hugely enjoying the surroundings and the music, “Present!” the young Bohemian assented, with imperturbable coolness. ‘Generally am round about grub-time, you. know. Been studyin’ two hours to find out how I could by a square meal with half a dime, which I picked up on Chestnut street. but got stuck; so I concluded I’d meander around here for a round o’ rations.” “Sam, you are awful!’ Miss Lester exclaimed. “Don’t you know that is a ridiculous position to oc- cupy? and, then, gentlemen never smoke in the pres- ence of ladies.” “Oh! they don’t, oh?” Sam queried, laying the cigar upon the centerztable. ‘* Didn’t know that be- fore. @ women an’ gals don’t take a back-seat when you ‘set ’em up,’ down in Alaska street.” ss gal what a horrible set of people they must be! Are you hungry, Sam?’ * What if Iam?” the youth demanded, quickly. ** Beeause I will get you a lunch.” “Oh! no you won’t! Sam Morgan don’t accept _ charity, if-you please. Iwas just funning with you about the grub, I come hereon different business, ” ““What business, Sam?’ ‘‘ Well, thet’s rather a ticklish way to put it toa feller. You might ‘a’ sed, ‘I’m all attention,’ which would have been Phe! as well.” ‘Well, ‘I’m all attention,’ then, if that is any bet- ter, Sam.” “That’s more businesslike. S’posin’ you come and sit here on the sofa, Miss Louie; mebbeI could not, say my say sO scientific, with you setting off there.’ **1’d rather not, Mr. Morgan.” “But I'd rather you would,” He arose, in his rather unpresentable garb, and aor over and seized her by the wrist—gently but irmly, “Come, Louie, you shall-not trifle with me,” he said; and, seeing that he was resolved, she followed him, and seated herself beside him on the ‘sofa. But she trembled in every limb, for {she could but guess what was coming, ‘Louie!’ the young Bohemian said, in a low tone. “IT have come here to tell you that I love you, and ask you to take the name of Morgan in exchange for that of Lester. I am not going te give vent to whole yards of nectar-impregnated effusions, like my cousin, a short time ago, nor am I going to get down on my knees before you. I offer you the love of a Bohemian—a rough, honest, but untiring affection, that will stand the test of flood or fire. Perhaps, as I am only seventeen, you think me in- capable of loving as aubonely as a man of thirty-five, but you are mistaken in that respect. I offer my- ' self, and you can accept or decline, at your own option. Lam poor—have just fivé cents on which to commence house-keeping; not a very entertain- ing prospect, ’'m aware, but many a gal’s begun on worse. To-morrow, Sam Morgan’s going to launch forth into the world in a new strike, at which he can attcin a reputation, ef he don’t make a cent—and a young married couple ought to be able to exist on eyes and love, pretty well.” ‘ - All this was said with that? cool composure which was a marked characteristic of the youth. Yet tears sprung into Louie’s eyes, and she wept with her head bowed upon his shoulder; wept, from the very utmost depths of her young heart. “* You love me and will be mine?” the youth de- manded, a tenderness in his voice that betrayed his deep emotion. ‘Oh! darling, say yes, and that you will break the engagement with Arnold Chelton!’ “Nol! nol I cannot!” she replied, hastily, LL & shall marry him, Mr. Morgan, for I promised him iv good faith. Yuu should not have ceme.” ‘Maybe not!’ he replied, “ but I was in the hall, and overheard most of my cousin’s wooing, é wish man, Fou the best of luck and a happy life with: uie. He and I are enemies—bitter foes, with a fortune standing between us. Ishall fight him tili the game is dead. ‘ain and ps bes he may kill me, but, like the Phenix, I shall each time rise from my ashes to continue the battle. Greek shall meet Greek. Farewell, Louise; may your happiness be supreme; may my love never haunt you, like a re- proachful phantom!’ : This much; then the young Bohemian had gone! CHAPTER TI. * PLOTTING AGAINST TWO—AN UNSUSPECTED TRAP, ~ ARNOLD CHELTON, after leaving the home of Louie Lester, his affianced wife, walked over to Tenth street and took the southward cars as far as Chest- nut street, where he got off and walked through Philadelphia’s Broedway of business and bustle. The side-paves were crowded with aristocratic and fashionably-dressed people—with boot-blacks_ and mite jig eommon folk, pickpockets and black- guards. 5 Chelton, however, took no notice of what was go- ing on around him, but pushed rapidly through to Sixth street, into which he turned and walked south. to Walnut, : Ascending a pair of stairs leading to the third floor of a prominent brick row, he knocked at the door of a side room, and was hailed to come in, by some one from within, which he accordingly did. Inside, the room was fitted up as an office, with ‘leathern-bound furniture, desks, tables, and book- eases. « An air of comfort, and cigar-smoke pervaded the apartment, and a young man who had been porin over a volume of Blackstone, eprang to his feet ani grasped Chelton’s hand cordially. : ‘Glad to see you, pard,” he said, with a laugh, * How’s faro, since I saw you last?” “Deucedly poor luck, Charley, Lost heavily, last night—” : Wand come to borrow a new supply to recom- mence_ operations with, eh?’ the young student ueried, as he motioned his guest to a seat. “ Well, am sorry to say I just made a bank deposit of my — last spare dollar.” “Hang it, what are you blowin growled, with a frown. ‘‘I came to at?” Chelton orrow none of pene money. Havea couple of thousand left in the — ank of my own, before I shall need to beg or bor- row. I came to ask a favor of you, which you can afford to grant, Heston, for l’ve done you many a turn, you will remember.” ei “Yes, so you have, old fellow. What can I do for you in my line of business?”’ “Well, you see, 1 have got myself promised to a little damse] around Lere on Eleventh street, and we propose to join our hearts and hands, sometime next oe 25 But I do not care to be legally harnessed in with the second party of the transaction, for reasons best known to myself, you see; and IthoughtI might" prevail upon een to fix yourself up as a clergyman, and come and tiea knot. As you have not yet been admitted to the bar, it would not be holding!" “No, I suppose not,” Heston said, drumming thoughtfully upon the table with his fingers. “Deuced mean drive to come over a respectable girl, though!” * Bah! that’s nothing.. I’ve been in the harness twice before, in that shape. No harm at all, the girl behaves herself Pe eee I shall never tell her the difference; but i ; comes unruly, after the first year of honevmooning, I shall shove her off upon her ewn cheek.” Xs “Humph! you are a worse villain than I took you - te be, Chelton. ' Who is this victim?” —_- “Her name is Louise Lester.” i “Louise Lester?” ‘ she shows her teeth and be- —
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_ blue-coats are keeping a stri 6 ** Yes; do you know her?" **No; but Lhe knows me, which would make it ne- cessary for me to come in disguise.” 2 “Immaterial to me about that. Come one week from to-night, at No. — North Eleventh street, at 7 o'clock.” “Very well. Bet leave a 'V as guarantee of good faith,” the student reminded, as Chelton arese. “Oh! certainly,’ and the gambler counted out three tens from a roll of bills. ‘“There’s a good round fee, and you can afford to.do a fair job.” “And I will do a fair yan Heston exclaimed, af- ter the scheming villain had departed, From the Jawyer’s office Chelton went to St. Mary’s, south of Walnut street, between Sixth and Seventh. This is the worst locality, without doubt, inthe Centennial City. Itis a narrow, filthy thor- oughfare, bordered by old tumble-down tenements, filled with an indiscriminate mass of humanity; a neighborhood with which even Alaska street can- not ve in crime and debauchery; a nest-hide for criminals of every stamp, which éven the well-regu- lated police hesitate to give an annual cleaning out, Such sights as a visit to the dens in this street re- veals, can never become erased from the memory, of one wh» has been through them. In company with a spy, the author has had the opportunity of ex- ploring some of the dens of crime and iniquity, and therefore knows whereof he writs. Chelton entered the street with some little hesita- tion, for it was none too safe to venture thus into a nest of thieves for a man of his stamp, Crimes were sometimes committed in broad daylight, and the city seemed pervaded with an atmosphere of horrors. As he passed along the walk, reeking with filth, he ‘could but notice a few of the more noticeable char- acteristics of the place, In one house a pitched-battle was going on be- tween a drunken husband and wife; a few steps further a young and really handsome female lay half-indoors and half-out, dead-drunk; still further on, sounds coming from within a saloon, announced that a drunken brawl was occurring. Here was a Jim Bludsoe, dr. a ceed than usual, curse them; they’re worse than ver since Stokely’s mayor. Had things pretty soft in Fox’s term.’ “T presume so, though God forbid that the neigh- borhood was any worse then than now. What have you in this black bottle, old man—benzine?” * Pure alcohol, you bet. Needn’t imbibe, unless you're especially dry, fer there ain’t more’n three good hummers left,’? ‘Don’t fear that I shall trouble your hell-on-fire!’ the gambler sneered, contemptuously. ‘I don’t drink anything more poisoned than champy.”’ “Course not! You're a high-toned rooster. Seen the time, when [ war in the mines, thet I could buy ye out a dozen times.” ‘“Haven’t a doubt of if. But those times are assed, You're glad to get murders to commit at — ve cents apiece, now!” “Oh, no; you’re mistaken!’ Gueleppo replied, coolly. ‘Perhaps Ido work off the surplus o’ hu- manity, as you say, but I get paid for it.” ‘*Do you want a case now?” “Dol? Well, Lain’t purticklar. Have a few dates open which I might fill to advantage. What’s the Uy ** An easy one, I should say, if I were engaged in the wholesale slaughtering ‘business; a boy, aged seventeen.” : Gueleppo oes out a brimming glass of the al- cohol and tossed it off with a gulp, smacking his lips as if it were good. j ‘ “A boy, eh? Seventeen years old. Just’ the toughest age of lads to handle. What name is it?” ‘Sam Morgan,” ! “The deuce you say!” “No; only an ace; Sam Morgan.” The “wholesale slaughterer” swore an Italian oath, Italian was mixed with Spanish in the blood that coursed through his veins. 2 “Sam ric a is a cuss!’’ he declared, emphatic- ally. ‘It will require a good deal of scheming to takehim. He is secretly in favor with the detect- ives, suspect. I must have your co-operation, if I undertake the case. How must he be disposed of— bloated, evil-faced rough, lying in the gutter, with |S. D.? an ugly wound upon his forehead. Probably he was not dead, or he would have been hastily stored away ‘by these denizens of St. Mary’s street, who are leagued in a sort of colony, protective and secretive, All of this Arnold Chelton noticed within halfa pede distance, and he silently thanked God that, villain though he was, he had not got reduced to this disgusting level, : At last he found th> number he was in search of, and gave a brisk rap upon the door, But no one ap- peared to answer the summons, “Hal! ha!” he chuckled, “the old fox is still very nai or else he is out. I will try the old rap.” e gave five light knocks upon the door, and one heavy thump; then, after a couple of minutes, a repetition. .The result was soon proven by the cau- tious opening of the door. The next moment Chelton was pulled inside the room and the door slammed shut and locked by a larze muscular man, with a low-browed, sinister countenance, evil-gleaming black eyes, and long shaggy hair of the same hue. He was a repulsive- looking customer, whom beastly intoxication had made a human wolf—a man steeped in crime, and just such as met the present demand of Arnold ‘helton. Coming from the wilds of the West, he was naturally possessed of a sort of brute courage and strength; and a few years spent in St. Mary’s street had polished him off into a first-class combi- nati pot the villain and ruffian. said, with a light laugh, as he seate table,wwhereon were a bottle and glasses, lose any of your caution.” « “No!” the ruffian growled, sullenly. ‘ The cursed icter watch on the street Beas mself at a * Don’t wary as ever, I see, heli e es Chelton. succeed the old | “Of course—‘sure death.’ It must be sure, too, If it costs money, let it cost; Iam willing to pay for his death!’ > ‘Very well, I'll finish this aleohol over the matter. I may strike upon a good plan soon.” ‘“The sooner the better.” “Of course. Hold yourself to go to work with me at an instant’s notice. It must be done in a way that will forever throw suspicion off of our heads.” “Correct! You know my address?” < “7 do, and will soon trouble you for a hundred dollars, no doubt.” “ Which will be all right, if you only get rid of the boy ** Chelton said, as he was shown out. . ! hal” he chuckled, as he made his way homeward; “this has been a day of days to me, and success stares me in the face, all around.”” bisu W Sam Morgan left the Lester mansion in an unenvi+ able frame of mind. His rejection by the only girl he had ever cared for, in particular, was a bitter blow to him, but no more so than was the triumph of-his evil-disposed cousin, Arnold Chelton., ie The two enemies, astwe may consider them, were nephews of old Jacob Morgan, the Third street bro- ker, who at the time of our story, was lying upon a sick-bed, from which the physicians said he would never rise, Old age, and a fall from his carriage, ion resulted in a broken limb, threatened to fea m up. . . ; ae Sam Morgan was old Jacob’s brother’s child, and until the age of fourteen, had resided with the bro- ker, and it was generally conceded that he would mtleman in the business, and Fee. * it
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_ the same shabby style. There was a Jim Bludsoe, Jr. ad keerit the property; but one day astorm arose be- tween them, and Sam was ordered to leave the house and never show his face within its doors again. with this command, old Jacob added: “Go thee into the world. Samuel, and think not to inherit my wealth. Ishall give it to thee or to Ar- nold. thy cousin; which, only time can tell.” And thus were the two rival cousins left in doubt as to which one would be the successful inheritor. Chelton, shortly after Sam’s dismissal, was taken into the old man’s home, though the broker would not admit him into his business, But it will be seen that he had a better chance to ingratiate himself in- to the old man’s favor than Sam, whom the ecentric banker did not notice, if the two met face to face on the street. But in this last blow the young Bohemian had re- ceived the bitterest experience of his young life, He had known Louie Lester for some time, and his visits had ever been encouraged, as no dou had those of Arnold Chelton, until he had grown to love Ng girl with all the strength of his young untutored eart. “Chelton has won!”’ he mused, as he left the Les- ter mansion, and strode southward through the drizzling rain toward his quarters in Alaska street— for he had no means wherewith to pay for a car- ride. “ He has won this point, and stands ten chances to my one of winning the other. Louie refused me, and by Heaven! no girl shall ever have that chance again. Henceforth the life of Sam Morgan, Bohe- ‘mian, shall be changed—shall be devoted to the one tl Ne ad after the death-blow to my love—re- venge ‘T will track and hunt Arnold Chelton through life, until he will be glad to die to escape m? and that fair, false creature whom I have just left—-» will make her love me as no other woman ever wor- ‘shiped man; then I will spurn her in pay for the de- cision of to-day. Ah! if life looks bitter now, there will be a day when J shall triumph over mine ene- mies, and to attain that triumph, shali be the sole object of my future life.” e strode along,a moody expressiou upon his face, a bitter pain tugging at his heart. Buy love! How many of the men who go to make up the popu- lation of our continent, have not in the years of their age between twelve and twenty. i pelea ina greuter or lesser degree that first boy ove for some school-girl friend or acquaintance? Very few, in- deed! Looking back in after years, some will dwell upon those joyous love-bours, with feelings of regret that they are gone; others with bitterness, and others with amusement. Such is life. With little pleasure did Sam Morgan now lool back upon the dawning of his young love, and trace its og de course up to the present, when it had. be- come blasted. Only bitter pain was left him He was a swift walker, and soon reached Market street, the greatest business thoroughfare of the city. Tn crossing to the south side, he came in contact with a young man of about his own agé, dressed in bright look upon his face, though proclaiming that he was the¥ possessor of important news. “Hello, Jack Jaunders!” cried Sam, grasping his hand, warmly. ‘‘ What makes"your face so beamer- iferous?” “Because I’ve struck ile,” was the reply, as Jaun- ders turned about and walked along with the other Bohemian. ‘There’s an old covey inquirin’ fer you: wants you {o take charge of a steam yacht, an’ run a Peers excursion down the bay, to-morrow, for which you will get twenty dollars, spot cash. before startin’. Sed he heard yer ked handle a yacht, an’ - wanted just such a hand. “Hurra! that is good news, Where’s the ship fer * At Prime street wharf.” _ “Allright, Tell the old feller I'll be there at seven, a - Now, I’ve got some important bizness else: where. Then, after a few more words, the two boys shook hands, and separated. CHAPTER IV. THE SUCCESS OF VILLAINY—CREMATION, Sam Moraan hurried along down Market street te Fighth street, and thence down Eighth to South, inte which busy thoronghfare he turned, a stern expres~ sion upon his handsome face. “T've got to do it,” he muttered, as he pushed through the crowds who, despite the unfavor: ble. character of the weather, were improving the most} of their day in ys Ett hre on the great “cheap”: street of the city. sno help for it, and shes gave it tome, too. I would that my victual-con ain- er were not so empty, in which case I should nct hesitate to wait, for to-morrow ]'m to have atwenty- dollar job.” With head bowed and hands clinched, he tried to conceive some way out of the difficulty, But he could not, His larder was empty. Mother Maginn had refused him the loan of another crust, and he had not had a mouthful of nourishing food since the previous ley. “T shall have to do it,” he repeated, as he turned into a little low shop, over the door of which swung three golden-hued balls. It was the flourishing es- tablishment of Isaac Isaacs, pawnbroker, in whose ossession one might look with the expectation of Bene. anything sought in the line of manufactured goods. A sort of museum of curiosities was Isaacs’s shop, and the old Jew had more valuables in it than any- body supposed he had: He stood behind the counter, now, ready to sell or purchase, a bland smile upon his fat glossy counten- ance, his hands caressing each other. patroniaviea He was about five feet six in hight, with a great pre- ponderance to flesh, his dimensions suggestive of the SU Ned of a first-class brewery. oot-morning, Mr. Samuel!” he saluted, with a racious bow. “ Nice day out mit de rain, vere de eoples was so plenty, eh?’ ‘“A confounded disagreeable day, I should say,” Sam replied, with a eae blue, when a fellow’s out of rocks. hat value will you put upon this, for a couple o’ days?’ He laid an exquisitely wrought gold locket and chain upon the counter, whose value must have been very large, for the German-Jew caught it up with an exclamation of 1 am,” Sam money.”” 7% “Vell, Samuel, you vas a burty nice poy, only you vas pe lazier dan dunder and bliizen. a man somedimes vill get lazy, und vant ter shut u shop vor a tear. Old if Jewsharps. You vas a nice poy, Samuel, mit a headt on you like a parrel 0’ caraway brandy—sharp and keen—unt as I like ter do a goot turn sumdimes, Igif you ten tollars an’ "leven cents, unt you keep de watchet unt chain!” | i = “What! you don’t mean to say you give this tome without holding the locket for security!’ Sam ex- claimed, in astonishment. 7 “ Shust egzactly dose, Samuel. You vas a nice poy, unt dish vill get you a goot meal unt several ‘ schoon- -ers,’ ofer at Shake Miller’s!” “But, see here! Suppose I never eome back to settle this debt?” demanded Sam. “ Didn't know an old ie harp [ke you'd trust 9 Bohemian with so much tin, ° 5 the . aac Isaacs is one of dem —
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8 : ; Jim Bludsoe, Jr, **Of courss, Samuel, of course! If you vas not coom pack unt pay me, I gets him, neferfeer, Trust isaac Isaacs fer dose.” “Just exactly what I intend to do, old man!’ Sam replied, pocketing both the locket and the money. “Come and take a cigar!” Isaacs, who was really an exceptional fine fellow, for a pawnbroker, accepted with alacrity. At a neighboring store Sam purchased a couple of fragrant Havanas, and then, after shaking hands with his jolly benefactor, betook himself to the old tenement in Alaska street, and to his room in the arret, a cheerless and desolate every thing looked now, since the light had died out of his heart—since he had no hope or plans for the future! Lonely and sad, with the pain of his first love’s defeat bearing upon him, the young Bohennian threw himself face downward upon the cot-bed, and wept silently. By and by a slight girlish figure, clad in calico with 4 retty little face. of summer_sunshine, an eyes of heaven's blue, glided softly into the room, but panees with dilated eyes, as she beheld the youth outstretched so still wpon the cot. “Sam! she called, softly, but he gave back no answer. ‘He is asleep,’ she continued, drawing nearer, and seating herself upon ths edge of the bed. “I wonder what the m: tter is?” A pretty little picture was this angel of the attic— witha light, airy, graceful form, a round, sweetly- expressioned face, blue eyes and golden hair, that fell in confusion over her fair white shoulders, She was the daughter of a California ranchman, but owing to the death of her mother, resided in Phila- delphia, on the second flcor of Mother Maginn’s tenement, with a maiden aunt. She had at once become on intimate terms with _odd, handsome Sam Morgan, and although her little sixteen-year-old heart had neve* known the true beat of love, she held Sam very dear to her. “Wake up, Sam!’ she whispered, softly, stroking his disheve ed hair, ‘‘It’s Milly, come tocall on on.” e He turned wearily over, and his tear-stained face was raised towar her. “You, Miss Lennox? What is there I can do for ou?” fie wag instantly himself, now, with a quick command of easy politeness and gentility—a very gentleman, in rags. ‘What have you been crying about, Sam?” the > girl asked, taking his hand in her dainty ones. She did not shrink from him as she would from a stranger. They had been fast friends from the first of their acquaintance—a sort of brother and sister to each other—but no more, on Sam’s part. She | knew of his love for Louie, and, hard though it was, she never allowed herself to betray more than ordiuary interest ia him. But, there was a strange tenderness in her voice, now, which went straight to the imbittered heart of the young Bohemian, like a dart. “‘What have I been crying about, little attic angel?’ he repeated, putting his right arm about her waist, and drawing her closer tohim, “ Well, T'll tell you. I got the grand boost, to-day, and have been blubbering about it like a great lubber that Iam.” 3 “The grand boost? I do not understand your meaning, Sam?” “Don’t? Well, in plainer Jsnguage, my lady-love os pours me, an.l is engaged to my cousin, Arnold elton,’ “Oh! dear, is that true? I thought you were such fast lovers, and already engaged.’ “No—never quite engaged. But I always caleu- fated she belonged to ma, and vice versa with her, But, Chelton ‘popped’ before I got there, and his ft'of tongue won her over. 1 overheard the whole le, and after he departed, I put in my vote, but it was with refused—on account of tender age, { guess,” @ bitter laugh. ec “Do you really care so much, Sam? Are there not others fon could be much happier with than with her?” Milly asked, slowly, toying with one of her apron strings. + He did not answer, just then—not until he had gszed steadfastly at the floor, and revolved the mat- er considerately in his mind, “Perhaps there are those with whom I can he hap- pier. Thank you for the suggestion, Milly; it opens up ree idea of life to me. Milly, how old are your ‘Sixteen, Sam.” “Sweet sixteen, eh? and those words are verified in you. Youareasweet, guileless little thing, worth any man’s love. I am going to leave Philadelphia, soon, dear, and quit this Bohemian life. I was made for something better. Three years hence, Provi- dence permitting, I shall return, and ask a certain little blue-eyed girl to be my bride,” “Oh! Sam; you don’t mean a word of what you say.” My eg Ido mean just what I say, Milly. But, put: no hope in it. Either you or I may be dead before that time. Do you care just a little for me, pet?”’ “Oh! Sam, I love you, ‘“ whispered she, impul- sively throwing her arms about his neck, and burst: ing into tears. “I think I have loved you a great while, Sam.” “And Tam very B Pimciee: and glad that I have one in this wide world to love me, you dear girl” I am your frien1, Milly; I will not say that I possess any- ring like love for you, for you could not well believe me, when I am so fresh from an infatuation for an- other girl, But, wherever I go, I shall carry your sweet image with me, and think of this hour, when a cloud of sunshine has broken in to irradiate the darkness of my heart.” “Oh! Sam, I know I can teach you to love me. Take me, now, and make me yours, foraver. I am~ net too ee “Maybe not; some happy marriages occur among even younger people than you andT. But they are few. Besides, before 1 enter the state of matri: mony, I have a mission to fulfill—a Devenee to com. pete and a fortune to make, such as will be counted y tens of thousands,” = Tf Sam eas had ever dreamed of the trap that was being laid for him, he would have been on his guard, for he was a believer in dreams. But no warning of impending peril and death was granted him, and he sought out the wharf at Prime street, next morning, and found asteam-yacht of trim buil tied UP, with the gang: lank out, A man was pacina to and fro‘along the pier, and judging from his re- pulsive appearance, Sam put him down as a mate of some of the peighboring vessels, until the individual accosted him. ¢ ¥ “Ahoy, thar! Be you the younker that I hired to work ato xd the ‘Sea-Gull,’ to-day?” was the salute, in a grvff voice, “Guess I'm the individual. if you’re the snoozer that’s gota convenient double-X!” Sam replied. “Well, I’m your man. Goin’ ter take a party of excursionists down the river to the bay, you see— crack, snap, too. Your place will be down in the engine-room, and mind you don’t.show your visage aboye decks the whole trip. Can you run an engine?” j *“Shou'dn’t wonder! Fork over your rocks, and Vu cs alleast. What's your handle?’ “*My name’s Captain ae 1’ was the response. “and here’s your pay. Get you below now, an have steam up inside of half an hour,” Sam received the money, and went down into the engine-room, which was: neatly fitted up with an BOENS boiler and engine, and everything conven! - ent, He set briskly to his task, for, Bohemian t*ough he was, he knew how to work, though it was a chi: he despised when he could exist by the labor of |
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— Jim Bludsoe, Jr. brain and sharpness of his wits. He started a fire, and soon had sufficient steam. About eight o’clock he heard the passengers com- ing aboard, and a little later Gueleppo gave the order down the trap to let her slide, Accordingly the hey swung off into the Dela- ware, and setting her nose against a south wind, steamed away, plowing the waters into showers of spray. During the trip to the bay Sam had his hands full, for he lacked a fireman, and the chopping of the river used the fuel rapidly. But as soon as they t uched the bay the wind changed, and Guelep ordered fires out, while he substituted sail in the place of steam as a means of propulsion, This gave the youth a chance to rest. Once or tavice he was tempted to go above decks and see if there were any among the passengers that he knew, tnt he recollected the captain’s orders and conclud- ud it best to obey them. Above decks Captain Gueleppo and Arnold Chel- jon were holding a close consultation. ‘How many is there of you?” the Italian asked, ,jlancing at the gay couples around and then at three nor four sailors who were epee the yacht as it flided along over the beautiful bay. “ Six ted emia including myself and young lady,’” vas the reply. “Allright, Keep watch that no one comes below -I will go and arrange matters.” Sam Morgan was sitting upon a stool, looking out jhrough a port-glass onto the bay, unsuspicious, ‘when he was seized and held in a vise-like grasp, | while a gag was thrust into his mouth. Inanother moment he lay upon the floor helpless- ‘y bound, with the villainous [talian standing over him, He expected instant death, but the ruffian Jhad another plan, He darted into the hold, and up- pet - vgs of tar upon the bottom and applied the imateh. The next minute he sprun, t “Fire! fire!” he shouted. “The engineer has dred the yacht and escaped. Lively, you lubbers! ‘Lower away the long-boat and clear the deck. You ari abovea mine of fire!” — Instantly a panic of confusion ensued. The men swore and the women shrieked. A boat was lowered and filled; the Italian captain rere last one to leave the deck of the ill-fated yacht, : By his orders the boat pulled swiftly toward the shore, two miles away. § In ten minutes the yacht was a mass of flames; then came an awful report—an explosion that scat- tered the burning timber : far over the bay. What was the fate of Sam Morgan? Imprisoned in A humains yacht, was it possible to escape? If 80, how And when those in the long-boat reached land, Gueleppo found opportunity to take Chelton one side. ‘It’s done!”’ he chuckled. ‘‘The boy’s in heaven up-stairs to the deck. or the other place ere this!” “Yes, it’s done,” the guilty cousin replied, a whiteness of affright on his countenance, ‘ The die is cas!” CHAPTER V. 3 THE BROKER AND HIS NEPHEW—THE DEATH-SCENE. Tue unlucky excursionists from the ill-fated yacht found accommodations at a fishing-hamlet near where they landed, and during the afternoon hailed a passing excursion steamer bound for Philadelphia. They were kindly taken on board, and arrived safe- ly in the Quaker Pos after their unusual adventure, 'The success of the diabolical scheme of Chelton and his Villainous ally had prospered beyond their most sanguine e: tations, and no sooner were they in the city than Chelton paid the Italian a good rount sum for his services, Well could he afford to, for he had been summari- _ ty'rid of one enemy whom he feared more than all s 9 \ his other foes. What doubt could there be but what Se aireat had. perished, either by the fire or ex- plosion : None, thought the scheming cousin, and he went. his way rejoicing. Four days later, in er ad bedchamber of his handsome residence on Walnut. street, Jacob Mor- gan lay confined to his bed. The room was elaborately furnished, and every . comfort a peevish mind could crave, was surround- bee, Og old broker, . t the time of our peep into the apartment, two are closeted there—Arnold Chelton and the sick man, The former was sitting near the bed, listening ap- parently with deep interest to what the old man was els “Yes, the doctors say Iam improving and shali soon be upon my pees a ” he said, in his feeble, gasping voice, ‘If the limb only continues to mend and no more inflammation sets in, I guess ihe ol sets constitution will carry him through, Uncle acob ain’t a-goin’ to give nee with gold at a dol- lar five, if he can help himself.” “Tam glad to hear your resolution, and see that aoe still have a few chances for life left, uncl,”’ ‘helton replied. ‘‘I am sure it would grieve no one more than I, fo see you die, when you ought to live a good score of years yet.” ri *Idon't know about that, nephew. It’s easy to say it, but I’ve had a sens distrust all along that you were only puffing the old man up, so as to keep on the right side of him, with an eye to the future, But, ’'ve prepared everything, and them that does right shall be served right.” ‘Surely you would not accuse me of villainous motives, uncle?” Chelton exclaimed, reprogcihae. een T have never given you cause? Iam sur- prised.” “ Apparently! the old man replied, rubbing his stubby chin, briskly. And the emphasis he as pec on the word betrayed how far his belief extended. “Perhaps you have no designs upon my wealth— would be well pleased if I were to leave it to some one else than you?” “ Pxactly !’* returned the scheming nephew. “ You can leave it all to charity, and I shall be just as well pleased. Hello! you black lubber, what do you want?’’—this to a negro servant, whom Chelton had caught poking his head through the partly-opened door into the room. / . ‘It’s a worthless secamp Tom sent in his place to- day!” the broker bo fee gr “If T were as limber as I used to be, I'd flog him for his meddlesome- ness,” “He needs it,” commented Chelton. “By the way, nephew,” the old man continued, “what would you say if TY should tell you that I had left every cent to Sam Morgan?” “*T should say you were an old ignoramus, sir!” ‘““And why?” “Because, my Bohemian cousin is dead—fur- nished food for the fishes in Delaware bay, four days ago! ‘ ~ What! Samuel dead?” the old man gasped, in — orror. “Txactly. Was blown up in a yacht explosion,” et Pameabee of hearing Fomething about that fre ee iCatag The boy was suspected of setting the re?”” Z ‘ “Yes, sir.” “ And escaped?” a We thought so, at first, but concluded not, after- “Wer You were along, then?” “ T was.” “Thad a dream about that disaster,” the old man murmured, aloud, but a he did so, ‘tI though the boy was on the boat— down in the engine-room; that. a big man attacked and bound him; then set fire tothe boat, andall bur riedly left the boat but the boy,” . = parently unconscious that _
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10 “ And he—did He escape?” “T cannot tell!” the old man replied, with a cun- ning smile, ‘Only time will prove that, nephew. Ha! ha! what makes you so white?” “Ahem! Iwas not aware that I am white!’’ Chel- ton replied, flushing. **You were, fora moment. Perhaps it was only a rach of blood to your cowardly heart!” So sudden did this thrust come, that Chelton ‘leap- e1 to his Yeot, with an oath. : “ What do you mean?” he demanded, fiercely. ’ “7 , mean to know!” And he glided close to the bed, and stood over the ee old man, a very devil shining in his black orbs. “Nothing! nothing!” the broker gasped—* noth- ing, Lassure you. It was only a slip of the tongue.” “Ah! lg curse you, a slip of the tongue, eh? Well, look out that you have no more slips of a like I'd as lieve choke the life out of you as not, nature, ) But, come; it’s time for if you were to anger me. your medicine.” He instantly threw off his savage aspect, and go- ing to a bureau, on which were numerous bottles and vials, he poured out a i pabaae of a darkish liquid, and approached the bedside. “Here is your medicine, uncle!” he said; ‘but he eevee the spoon from his hand, with a fierce anathema, as he beheld the woolly head and ebony visage of the colored servant again protruding through the door. “Ten thousand furies, there’s that accursed nigger again!’’ he cried, and whipping a revolver from his poe he sprung toward the door and out into {the all, But, Cuffee was gone, out of sight, and it was use- less o pursue him, Chelton returned to the sick-chamber, and locked the door after him. ““Why do you do that?” the old broker demanded, nervously. “*One would think you wish 10 murder 8, “T want to keep that impudent African“out,” was the response. He poured out another dose of the medicine, and the sick man swallowed it. “Ugh! what a nasty taste!” he said, with a shiver. “Are you sure it- was the same I have been taking, nephew?” “ Perfectly sure,’’ was the indifferent reply, as the schemer seated himself near the window with a book in his hand. ‘Don’t think I would poison ou! Presently the loud respirations of the old man proclaimed that he was ee Then Chelton laid aside his book, an expression of triumph upon his face, an evil gleam in his sinister eyes. fs Now is my time!” he siid in a shrill whisper, darting a swift glance toward the door to see that all was safe. *‘The old man sleeps, and I have it all in my own hands. First, the safe; then the last stroke that is to place me forever above ecuniary want, Aha! Arnold Chelton, you’re a lucky doz!” A He gave a glance at the broker to make sure that he was really asleep; then advanced to a large safe that stood in a niche at the foot of the bed. Tt was one. of Herring’s Improved, with combination lock, and it required full an hour of attempts and silent curses on the maker before the schemer suc- ceeded in opening it. It yielded at last, however, and the contents lay exposed before him. There were a few books; a package of documents, out of which the gambler selected one paper and replaced the others. = “This must be it,” !e said, breaking the seal of the envelope with nervous fingers, ‘‘ Yes—Last Will and Testament of Jacob Morgan, Ha! by Heaven, the old man has left every dollar tome! And he shall never live to alter this will! A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. Let me see: dated May Jim Bludsoe, Jr. 15th—that was day before yesterday—at half pari ten o'clock, A.M, Ha! I remember now that a legal: looking gentleman called then, One called at four, but I do not think he was a lawyer. Probably thi4 is the last will—there can be no doubt about thas, Hello! what is this?” ‘ A piece of paper had dropped from one of the folds of the will, and fluttere . to the carpet. With curiosity the Binal picked it up, ng straggling hand was written: “Isaac Isaacs, PAWNBROKFR, “ Number — South street.” ‘_ “Isaac Isaacs!” Chelton repeated slowly. “ } Jew pawnbroker. How came that in this wil f What is the renee There surely is something in this; but what? must call upon this Isaac Isaacs soon, and see what’s to pay. But first, there is this other work. By Heaven! sholl I do murder? How else can I attain my object? If I were to let him live, he would recover, or at least change this will, for he already suspects my connection with the death of young Morgan. No! he must die, ani that quickly,/and leave no tell-tale traces. The in- haling li uid the Italian gave me will answer the purpose.’ ith uervous hands he thrust the will back ints the safe and closed the door. Then he staggered tis his feet and crossed the room to the bureau. “Tam getting weak and ‘cowardly when I should be dauntiless,” he muttered grimly, as he poured out, and tossed off a brimming glass of brandy. ‘ This will fix me in the trim for business,” Not one but four glasses of the fiery liquor he im: bibed; then paced up and down the room, his head bowed, his breath coming in panting gasps. “Tt must. be done!” he finally muttered, bracinj: up, ‘‘and the sooner the better.. The narcotic has put him in asleep from which it will take hours ta awaken.”’ #3 { He darkened the room by closing the inner blinds ; then glared around him to see that 10 one was look ing. The actions of the negro servant had made him, suspicious, : en he drew a bottle and a soft woolen rag from, his pocket, saturating the latter with an oderless: white liquor from the f>rmer, ; Lie rag was then laid over the upturned yace of th roker. With a shudder the villain turned away when this work was completed and paced up and down the room with the tread of a cat. He was violently agitated, and the hand that held the jeweled watch upon which he Eere his eyes riv- eted trembled like an aspen leaf, while the pallor of his face was ghastly. Ten moments elapsed, then he glided forward oa removed the woolen cloth from the broker’g ‘ace. It was perfectly atk And the old man lay upon the bed a lifeless pieca of human clay. The poison had done its work, Not the faintest breath or the twitching of a muscle ees the existence of a particle of remaining 2. “He is dead!” the murderer whispered shrilly— “dead, and I'll defy man or devil to detect human agency in the job. And I am now the master of this house—the sole undisputed heir of the Morgan heri- tage. Aha! Sam Morgan, I wish you well in your bed in the bottom of Delaware bay, but it would be greater satisfaction to me if you could know of my complete triumph!” 7 ; He stood like an overjoyed demon there in the presence of death, his face lit up by a malignant smile; his eyes glaring phi Suddenly a sound near the door caused him to start with a horrified curse and tuin his gaze in that direction. The door was still closed, but a sudden thought caused him to raise his eyes to the transom above. And he did so just in time to catch a glimpse of the Soa
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Jim Bludsoe, Jr. a) head and grinning, ebony face of the same negro who had twice before intruded, asit was being quick- ly withdrawn from view! With an oath, Chelton again drew his revolver, xprung forward and unlocked the door, and leaped into the hall. The servant was nowhere to be seen, but could be heard clearing the stairs in a flying leap. Chelton heard him leave the hous. then, with a whastly face, returned to the death-chamber, and removed the traces of his crime, after which he de- scended to the library. The nurse, an elderly woman who had been pro- cured on account of her worthiness and knowledge of medicine, arose upon his entrance. ‘Did you come from the master, sir?’ she in- quired. “Yes, [ would not go up now. He is ee very nicely, and you might disturb him. He will proba- bly need no more care until toward night.” *Do you think he is any better?” * “Oh! yes, I have Btrong. hopes now of his ultimate recovery. He is a great deal more lively to-day. If his heart only carries through safe, there are great chances for him.” “Wis heart is affected then?” ‘Oh! yes—has been for a number of years.” It so happened that in this the gambler spoke the ruth, After awhile he left the mansion, and walked down into town. His brain was heated, and it took a bottle of champagne at Nash's to still his nerves. *Qurse that negro!” he growled. “T'll find out of Tom, who he was, and old Gueleppo will have an- other job. By the way, I think I'll hunt up this Isaac Isaacs, and see what“connection he has with, Morgan’s will.” ‘Ae left the restaurant, and walked down Tenth street to South, as if the business he was on was of great importance. From Tenth he walked east sev- eral squares on South, and finally came to a litile, low building, upon whose windows the words “LOAN OFFICE” were painted in a variety of colors. .But the place was untenanted. All the stock and fixtures had been removed, and a piece of board, nailed to the decor, bore the following straightforward announcement: “Hardt times. Sold out, paidt mine debts, unt gone West. Isaac Isaacs,” This was all; and inquiry proved it was correct, The Jew had ‘pulled out,” several days before. And what secret did he possess relating to the Morgan will case? 3 CHAPTER VI, A TORTUNE-TELLER’S PREDICT 'ON—A YOUTHFUL SHARP. ARNOLD CHELTON returned to the Walnut street mansion of the murdered Jacob Morgan, in an un- enviable frame of pine “Tt may be all fight, about this sudden clearing out of that rascally Jew!” he muttered, with a sav- age frown, ‘‘but it does not appear so. There is something back of it all, which 1 cannot understand, and that it threatens my future peace of mind, I am almost certain. The Jew knows about that will, else why his name on the accompanying slip of paper. ‘Does he possess some knowledge concerning my uncle's affairs, which he thinks to make money out of in the future?” quived at the mansion, he found everything in a “state of confusion. The nurse had gone to the bro- ker’s room shortly after Chelton quitted the house, and found the old man dead, to all appearances. In- stantly she had fled and alarmed the household, which consisted of a coachman and four servants besides herself; then doctors had been sent for, and likewise the coroner, “Ha! what does this mean? Can it be— he gasped, and then the hypocrite burst into tears, FY & 12 which appeared genuine, as he caught sight of the band cf crape. . ‘Yes, young man, the old gentleman has gone and left us, at last,”’ one of the physicians replied, solemnly. ‘* When did he die?” “Some hours ag The nurse Pon that you had been gone only a few minutes, when she ran up to his room to see if he still slept. And she found that. he slept the sleep that knows no wakening,” i “He was resting so peacefully when I left him, that I thought no danger of leaving him alone,’ Chelton said, with apparent humbleness of spirit. pel do you think was the cause of his sudden eath?” $ “Heart disease, without a doubt, A quick clog- ing of thick blood through the returning valves of is heart did the job. Nothing more than we have been looking for.” 5 Chelton went to his room, where he locked him- self in for the rest of the day. He did not wish to look upon the victim of his dia- bolical crime, lest some way he should betray his guilt. Two days later the funeral took place from the church at Ninetecnth and Walnut streets. It was a grand affair, handsomely conducted, and a long line of carriages followed the remains of the unfortunate broker to their last resting-place in Woodland Cemetery. Arnold Chelton did not £0, being confined to his bed with a.racking heacache. But it so happened that he was able to be about, shortly after the funeral cortege had gone across the blue waters of the Schuylkill. The funeral occurred upon Friday, and upon the following Monday, the new heir to all the wealth of Jacob Morgan, filed the will found in the safe, be- fore the Registrar of Wills, in accordance with the laws of city and«county. As there was no other will of a later date found upon file, Arnold Chelton had undoubtedly succeed- ed in his heinous scheme; had triumphed and won, even though two lives had been sacrificed in the struggle. He was now Arnold Chelton, ‘ million- aire,’ where before gambler had occupied the place of ** millionaire.” ena Flushed and jubilant was he over his victory, and first he went to the house on North Eleventh street, and made known his good fortune to Louie Lester. She received him with less impetuosity than be-_ fore, but his gold-biinded eyes. and champagned brain were incapable of recognizing the fact. “ Ah! my peerless darling!" he cried, imprisoning her in his arms, and kissing her red lips, ‘you are not coming to a beggar, now, but to a man whose wealth can place you at the head of a criticisin social world, there to shine resplendent as its queen,”* “But I do not care for wealth, society and distine- tion, Arnold!” the young girl replied, gently return- ing his caresses. ‘‘I should be just as contented and happy if you were apoor laboring man.” ‘Which shows what an angel you are!’ he re- *But as long as we have wealth, why shou e not enjoy it? Life jis but short. at the longest Jease, and a person needs to improve his or her time to derive any satisfaction” from it.” ; ; “Do you ever furn your thoughts to God, and the necessity of a reformation, in order to derive future salvation, Arnold?” . “Bah! no!” he replied with a shrug. ‘Time enough for that, yet!” But ‘way down in his heart the arch-villain” wondered if there really was time for him to make his peace with God—wondered if the great ster could ever forgive him for all his crimes. “Has Sam Morgan been here since the yacht burned, Louie?” : ~ “No. Poor Sam! what a terrible fate was hist Arnold, I had a terrible dream, last night, and about him, too, Do you know what a Phenixis?” . plied, etc AG w % Y {
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i2 _‘*A Phenix?” he repeated, with a start. “I be- lieve it was a fabulous bird of olden time reputed to rise from its ashes, after death. Of later years, however, it has been applied to detectives, partments, and brands of cheap domestic cigars.” * Somewhere I have read of a Phenix. in a novel —startling in action, but highly improbabl:. I dreampt of Sam Morgan as a Phenix, rising out of the wreck of that burning yacht—not as Sam Mor- gan, the young Bohemian, but as a huge serpent, with terrible fangs and wickedly gleaming tyes.” Chelton shuddeced, and his dusky countenance be- came shadowed with a grayish pallor. **Some horrible nightmare,” he muttered. ‘‘ You should be careful what you eat before retiring.” At this juncture a young lady frie »d of Miss Les- ter’s came hurrying into the parlor, her face flushed and sree sparkling. * Oh, Louie!’ she exclaimed, excitedly, “‘ would you believe it? There is an old fortune-teller who was in at our house, and told all our fortunes, and such jolly fun we had that [ ventured to bring her in here;” and the girl turned. and motioned to an old woman who stood by the door. She came hobbling into the parlor, leaning heavily upon her crutch and cane, a veritable mass of cling- ing rags and filth, with an old vail tied over her bonnet and face. This effectually screened her face. She sunk upon the sofa, with some muttered thanks, and Miss Ardver turned to Louie: “Now, Louie, you fo first, and learn your destiny, and your gentleman friend next. I assure you, it is Teally amusing.” > * Perhaps we had better retire?” sugzested Chel- ton, and accordingly he gave Miss Ardner his arm : into the adjoining room, latter. After they were gone, the fortune-teller took Louie’s fair hand in her coarsely-gloved one, and gazed through the eye-holes in the vail at the deli- eate veins and cords, * Your life thus far has been throuzh sunshine, with little to grieve. except the parental loss. You have had two lovers—one you have discarded; the other you have kept. One was a gentleman—the other a double-dyed villain. You have chosen the You have trouble looming up in the future, but it is too far off for me to indicate. You will row to love this gentleman lover, but your love will be in vain. Beware of the Phenix!” Louie started to her feet with a ery of alarm. **My dream! my dream!” she gasped. She managed to stagger out into the hall, and motioned for Chelton to goin. He did so, not notic- ing her agitation. H> put no faith in the trashy ravings of so-called fortune-tellers but yielded now to gratify his curiosity. He kneeled before the old ragged creature in’disgust and put forth his right hand—a hand which manual labor had never rough- ened or soiled. The fortuns-teller gazed at the cords and intricate veins for some time without speaking. But finally she said: : “Yours has been a checkered existence—a record more criminal than Christian. You have led a wild, sensual life—have gambled, and dealt extensively in~ bad money and with bad women. You have the crime of murder on your soul. Nay! do not start; it is not as purpose to betray Pie You may, by skillful et ng, Save your neck rom the hangman's noose ! it not for any great length of time, In the future looms up an obstacle, and this obstacle is waiting for you. I cannot say just where you will meet it, but meet it you surely will. It is not.a ghost, but a living dragon that has teeth like needles—a Phenix that rose from the ashes of the ill-fated yacht, ‘Sea Gull.’” Chelton s' ered to his feet witha frightful curse. “Enough of this cursed nonsense!’ he cried, 1's face whiter than the marble statue near which he stood. ‘Get out of the house at once, or I'll mata business for the coroner!’ and he drew and cocked 6 revolver, as if to execute his threat, re de-_ » Jim Cludsoe, dr. __ : j ——: “Very well, [ go, Mr. Chelton,” the old womaa) replied, hobbling towari the door with alacrity, “but as a friend, I caution you to beware. Theré are deadfalls for the wicked between here anc! heaven leading down into hell. Look out that you don't stumble into them. And some time, as you! are striding along the highway of life. if foe seo painted upon tle fence by the roadside, in boldly con+ spicuous letters, the words:—‘ Through to Death,” —think of the words of the old fortune-teller, and lcok out for the—Phenia /”” _ Then the old crea'ure darted into the hall, just in time to escape a bullet from Chelton’s revolver. Louie showed her from the house: then returned to the enraged man in the parlor. ‘* What is it, dear?” she demanded, stopping him, and gazing up into his pa'lid face. ““Why did you allow that accursed hag in here?” he growled. ‘ She is possessed of the devil!” ‘“Don’t mind her, Arnold. She is doubtless some old vagrant whose mind is wandering.” “Bah! she hits too close at the truth for that. es knows more about my private affairs tian I iko. “Have you any secrets from me, then?”’ “Oh! no; of course not. But I must now leave hoe my dear; I have important business to attend oin town, and will call again, this evening. You will he ready to be married to-morrow, I suppose?” ‘* What! so soon after your uncle’s death, Arnold?” “Yes. It need make no difference. A week hence I shall perfect arrangements for our trip across the continent. And after we have thoroughly done ths western continent, we will visit the old world.” “Oh! dearest, that would be so nice. Iam tired steiayiug in Philadelphia year after year.” i *‘And I too, and think this trip may be beneficial to us both, I will call with a minister and a malo friend, to-morrow, at two. You can invite Miss Ardner to be present, if you choose. So good-by, sweetheart.” He kissed her, anc then left the mansion, He eally left in quest of the old fortune-teller, but as he eould see or Jearn nothing of her, on reaching the street, he walked to Tenth street and rode to the Morgan House on Walnut street. That afternoon he received a call from Jack Jaun- ders, Bohemian. The youth was a second Sam Morgan, for coolness and sharpness. Somehow these Bohemian youths of our great citiss are endowel with an unusual amount of brains, pluck and laziness, and if properly cultivated and nourished deveiop into our sharpest, shrewdest citizens, u : This Jaunders was no exception to the rule. He lacked not for the essentials of the profession— ‘*cheek,”’ “ brass,’’ and insolent familiarity, and came striding into the presence of the millionaire, with a free-and-easy independence, characteristic of his nature, “Mr. Arnold Chelton, I believe!’ he observed, pausing near the aforesaid ‘individual, and resting one foot upon the crimson velvet sofa. “T believe so,” was the reply. “1s thers not room upon the floor for your feet, young man?”’ ““No, I reckon not, whe. yours is about, old covey!’ Jaunders decided. ‘‘Didn’t come here to be bossed, neither, Come to make inquiries. You were on that yacht when she ’sploded?” 5 # “No. Iwas in a boat, making for shore, at the me,” “Ah! yes. this time?” “On the boat, it is believed. He set fire to the yacht, and must have crept into the hold out of sizht, and been blown to atoms,” ¢ “Think he was?” ; 5 “T haven't a doubt of it.’” ; “What a pity a and that old snoozer, Gueleppa, warn't along.~ Think Sam Morgan’s dead, then?’ “I do, most assuredly, Why?” Where was my pard, Sam Morzan, at A bes
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eu 4 **Oh! I wanted to be sure, In case he’s.a white- winged flutter r, I've got some bizness with you, by and) by. Take an optical inventory of my_phiz, so that you may remember me, My name is Jaunders —Jack Jaunders, at your seryice!"" With which announcement the yourg sharp whirled on his heel and allowed the servant to show him ont, while he left’ Chelton wondering if there was a3, menace implied in his words, or if it was only a freak of a curious mind and character, CHAPTER VII, A CRIME TO HIDE A CRIME—WORDS OF MENACE ON THE BACK OF 4 PROGRAMME, | THAT was an afternoon of events at the Morgan mansion, Not Jong after the departure of Jack Jaunders, the young Bohemian friend of poor Sam Morgan, another visitor was usheredy into the presence of arnold Ch. “ton, as he sat in the grand parlor of the noble residence he had so foully won, This individual was old and _ silver-haired, with furrowed features of an odd mold, a bent form, and eyes that had a strange gleam, through a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles. . “M. Sardou,” was the name upon the card the servent bad handed Chelton, and the young million. aire razed at the stranger sharply. “Well, sir?” he interrogated, knocking the ashes from his cigar. : ““Welll” M, Sardou assented, accepting an unin- vited seat, ‘*Mr, Arnold Chelton, I suppose?” “T suppose so, along with yourself, sir,” Chelton “Why, pray?” f ** M. Sardou scratched his white head a moment perplexedly. “ Well, you see, Lam hunting for an Arnold Chelton, and you are the man, I ex- pect.” 4T guess not,” the millionaire said, carelessly. “There are three others in town by that name.” “Eh! there are? Didn’t find only cne name of the kind in the Directory, which led me to the conclu- sion that you were the individual.” “What do you want of Arnold Chelton, then?’ “Oh! that depends somewhat on circumstances. Have you or did you ever have a cousin by the name of am Morgan? He was a Bohemian sort of chap, I believe.” . * Certainly not. We Cheltons have no kith nor kin of that name.” “Ah! then, perhaps I am mistaken, But, may- be you once knew a beautiful girl by the name of Carrie Moore. She was enticed from home and ruin- ed by an arrant knave by the name of Chelton, and then assassinated at an ill-house in this city by her betrayer.” : “Ha!” Chelton exclaimed, retaining his compo- sure remarkably well, ‘can it be that he was so foolish? I did not think him so base a criminal.” This was spoken a; if to himself, and M. Sardou caught at iteegery. “What say?” he queried, sharply. Chelton affected a violent start. “Ah! what_was I saying?” he muttered, apolo- getically. “ Yotfare a detective, eh?” to M. Sardou. ** Perhaps,” the little Frenchman answered, “Then your race isrun, Death to°you and your fraternity!” Chelton cried jubilantly, and in another instant the little Frenchman lay outstretched upon the carpet, insensible. He hati not fallen. by Chel- ton’s hand, but by the hand of Guiseppe Gueleppo, Chelton’s treachérous Italian tool, who had entered unobserved, and dealt the detective a terrible blow with a blackjack. ~ “Ts he dead?” Chelton demanded, in a whisrer, as he rose from his chair and drew near, with-blanched ace. c “Deader’n a door nail, Pl het you the drinks!” grinned the Italian, with a chuckle. ‘You said death, and I give him a stinger. 1’ll see if any life remains.” ; i knelt upon the rich crimson carpet, and placed Jim Bludsoe, Jr. -it will most likely be found in the bottom of the his hand over the detective’s heart. There was not a throb nor the least sign of a pulsation, “ He is dead!” Guelep said. “Dead! Great God! I did not mean for you to kill him, What shall we do with him? He is a de- tective, and if he does not return, inquiry will be made for him. Then what?” “Exactly. We've put our foot in it for once!” the ee growled, locking the door and seating him- self. “The fellow’s name is Sargent, and he was ag ~~ sharp as a weasel. No doubt his mission here is known at head-quarters, unless he has undertakento _~ handle the case alone, In the former case, youron'y plan is to hide the corpse, and clear out. If we can first get rid of the body, 1 will find out if it was known that Sargent came here, and report. Pre- — pare yourself to leave town for a while, anyhow; it. will be safer. Iam going to take French leave my- > self soon ” “But, here is this accursed tell-tale body; how shall we dispose of that?’’ Chelton’s face grew ghast- > ly as he gazed at the fast stiffening form, “Itmust ~ not be found here, by heaven!” : “No; it would not be well for you. Is there a sewer connection in under this house?’ “Yes, yes; by Jove! Ihad not thought of that. There is a large trap in the cellar, which opens di- rectly into a sewer main.” “Phen we are all right. Send all yourservantsoff for a holiday, and during their absence we will dis- ~~ pose of this corpse. The sewers are full of water. 5 from this deuced rain, and will quickly carry away the evidences of our crime, Leave me to manage. _ thé rest!” : Later, Chelton dismissed all the servants for balfa — holiday, ard when they were all gone from the man- sion, he and Gueleppo carried the body of the mur- dered detective down into the cellar. and pitched it through the man-trap into the sewer, below, thus forever, as they supposed, hiding the evidence of their crime. Se! li Then they reascended to the parlor, and Guelep took his departure, promising to call again during ~ the day, with information concerning the detective, He came, toward evening. ; oy “Tt's all right, at present,’ he said. ‘The force have no definite knowledge of Sargentis where- — abouts, and it looks to me as though they may never_ bave any. So far, so good. When his body is found, Delaware, keeping company along with thatof your cousin.” ae “Tam glad the thing is through with. Here is — some money, and when I leave. Philadelphia Iwant ~ you to be close at hand, a sort of unrecognized body- — guard, you see, for which you will receive liberal — aye Chelton said, handing the Italian a roll of. ills, and motioning for him to depart. The following afternoon saw the scheming mill- ionaire in the Lester mansion, closéted with pretty Louie in the drawing room, waiting for the arrival of the minister, who was to make them man and wife. He had arranged matters satisfactorily with rouge Heston, the law-student, and was soon to en- ‘rap another victim into bis meshes, ; Below, a number of Miss Lester's friends were ~~ waiting in the parlor, for, though it was against — Chelton’s will. she was desirous of having a few _ friends about her. : ees “And, now, my treasure!” the villain said, draw- ing her to him, as they were seated upon the sofa. — ‘the hour has come when we are to be made one — and inseparable. What a comfort and a joyitisto — me to realize that you are mine—all mine own, — sweet darling. What a pleasure it will be tome to ~— devote my whole life and wealth to the sole object of furthering your happiness!” ay “Yes, Arnold,” the fascinated girl whispered, — nestling closer to him, ‘I shall be very, very happy if you are only as true aud good to mé as you have =
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>, ~— * ‘and down the room. - eaped the doom I—the doom we supposed to have 14 romised, Will you be so? Will you always be ‘aithful to me?” “Pshaw! child; were the Cheltons ever unfaith- ful to their wives? No, indeed! You may put your implicit trust in me, and never fear that I will neg- lect or wrong you.” : Ah! had Louie Lester been able to have looked ahead into the future! The arrival of the minister was presently an- nounced, and the bride and groom were ushered into the parlor by heir attendants. Chelton gazed sharply at the minister, and an oath rose upon his lips as he perceived that it was not Charley Heston, the law-student—not he, even in disguise—but a clerical-looking individual, in white tie, and with a grave countenance. The question was—was he a legal minister? This was the problem, but there was no time for hesi- tancy now. : They took their places, and the marriage cere- ear was pronounced, according to the usual orms. The last words of the cler; an had been spoken, when suddenly there rung Rares the room, in a clear, ringing voice, the words: ~ “Beware! the serpent is coiled to strike—the Phenix has risen from the ill-fated yacht’s ashes; the Bohemian lives in the Phenix, while the fishes nibble upon the bones of Sam Morgan in the bottom of the Delaware. M.Sardou has taken a contract to build a new sewer; the spirit of Carte Moore cries for revenge; the:Phenix will see that she has it! Beware, Arnold Chelton, lest you tread upon the serpent that is destined to bs your death when you Teast think of it! Beware, Louie Chelton, for the love you refused shall yet burn a hole in your heart! Beware!” In bewilderment and greatly astonished, the guests listened to the terrible wedding curse, emanating from some source unknown—words of menace, in a voice that was stern and accusing. With a shriek, the bride fell into Chelton’s arms in a dead faint, and in a (moment, with a face deathly white, he staggered beneath her weight and gro Vat senseless upon the carpet, bearing her Ww 4 All was confusion. The bride was carried to her room and cared for by her lady friends,/while Chel- ton was handled by the three or four gentlemen present. Both parties were soon restored to consciousness. however, and after awhile the guests depar ed an they were left alone. Louie wept incessantly and Chelton’s brow was clouded by a terrible frown. “Do you know,” hesaid hoarsely, ‘that a convic- eee forced upon me that Sam Morgan is not ead “Not dead!” the young wife exclaimed with a art. “Not dead,” he answered, rising and pacing up “By some-miracle he has es- overtaken him and is hounding us, thinking to de-\ Stroy our happiness. But that shall not, be. I will ve the matter over into the hands of the detec- 7 ives and they’ll soon end his pretty pranks.” he mean by his refer- Sardou and Carrie “But, dear Arnold, what di ences to the Phenix, M. Moore?” “Cursed if I know. Some contriving of his evil brain. But I must hasten into town and give this - matter into the hands of the proper authorities. I ‘want no more of this— _isit, James?’ to the servant who ent>red. _ trin servant, depositing an elegant Ha! a ring at the door; what _ “A gift of flowers, sir, as a boy brought, an’ sed it was for the new-married couple. sir,” replied the f oral offering in the shape of a basket. in Chelton’s hands, and then re- with a courtesy. But Louie screamed, and the next moment the millionaire hurled the basket to the floor with a ter- Jim Bludsoe, Jr. SE Ag oe. as though it were some venomous reptile, ‘or in the center of the basket, of moss, were these three words: ““THrovuas To DrarH!”’ **A thousand curses!" was the impious exclama- tion of Chelton, as with the toe of his boot he spurn- ed_the basket and contents violently from him. “This is more of the work of that accursed scape- grace, raseal and cousin of mine!” He rushed into the hall, seized his hat and out into the street hé went on his mission of vengeance against Sam Mor.an. He went to the detective bu- reau and offered a hundred dollars rewar, for the woven in garlands apprehension of the young Bohemian, who he was : sure now was not dead. aay He then returned to-Louie, feeling somewhat re- lieved. The Lester and Morgan mausions were shut up, and the bride and groom prepared for their tour of the continent, sparing no expense to have all ur- rangements satisfactorily completed. Before their departure, however, they went one evening to the Academy of Music to witness the opening performance of a noted songstress, it being her first appearance in Philadelphia. Chelton chose a couple of seats in fhe circle, first row, looking directly off onto the stage. The house was packed with an enthusiastic audi- ence, for the performance was of the best; but dur- ing its progress an incident occurred, sufficient to deprive the millionaire and his young wife of their part of enjoyment. A programme, dexterously twisted to a point, came whirli down from one of the galleries, and struck upon f us then swore outright, as he saw the words pen- ciled upon the back: “The Phenix—is abroad—M. Sardou in the sewer ~—Carrie Moore in heaven—Arnold Chelton in—hell!” CHAPTER VII. HAUNTED! HAUNTED!—ON A MISSISSIPPI RIVER BOAT, —THE REBELLION RELIC. One year and a half later: the scene isehanged. It is night in the greatland of the Sou h—night upon the bosom of that queen of Western rivers, the ever-moving, majestic, stately Mississippi, over whose surface a brilliant midsummer’s moon is throwing a flood of silvery light, illuminating the path for a small but stanch pleasure steamer that is plowing its way northward, through a scene of ex- ceeding beauty. ; Along the shores, here and there, are grand old mansions and plantations, which carry one’s mind back to those haleyon days before the Rebellion, negro shanties along the shore, and occasionally sounds of sweet negro melody floating out across the water, perhaps to the ae oe Sas of an old banjo; here are landings and broad lawn shaded by statel¥ trees, sloping down to the water’s edge, with a family group assembled on the shore. watching the boat glide®y; all presented in a weirdly beautiful panorama as beh radiance of the great harvest moon, as she soared like a ball of molten gold in the blue starry heaven, which looked an emblem of peace and purity. | Aboard the steamboat all was even less active than the night ashore, except it be the two busy men whe managed things d»wnin the engine-room. The captain paced a regular beat_unon the lower deck, while on the upper deck severaTiadies and gentlemen were easily al arr languidly watching the scen2 around them. dies of great social refinement and culture, and men of wealth and distinction, we there, forming a selected pleasure-party. whom Ar- nold Chelton was proud to bear in his boat—for this was the millionaire’s boat, chartered to convey him- es party as far up the river as inclination might ead them, \ rs, Chelton’s lap. Chelton picked it © at-houses—there i ~ eld under the |
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oe Jim Bludsoe, Jr. Chelton has just come from the cabin in company with a natty-dressed gentleman, with iron-gray hair andan immense black beard, which nearly hid the features. Chelton is seemingly unchanged; wealth is char- acteristic in his faultless attire—his suit of spotless duck, and panama, hat, being of the finest, and the diamonds that gleamed in his shirt-front and upon his fingers, being worth a king’s ransom, * Hello! here they come!” cried one of the South- erners, lounging on the deck, as the two men came up the stairs. “Which won, colonel?” “The Virginian won, of course,”’ growled Chelton, savaggy- “TI believe he or the cards are infatu- ated.” “ Bah! it’s only science against bull-head luck, my dear friend,” replied the Virginian. ‘‘ You city pee are no match against we old bucks who ave boated it so many years on the dear old Mis- sissip. Why, sir, there are men still living, who can beat me so quick that I’d have to shut my eyes up. There used to be an old fellow living along the linc here, somewhere—thiuk it- was at the next wood station—who peddled fruit for a living. ‘ Rebellion Relic,’ he called himself, and many a time he’s fleeced some so-called sharps out of their spondu- lies. He plays faro by three systems, and if he fails to get therun of the board by one system, he does not fail to get it on the other two.” “T'd like to see that man,”’ said Colonel Dillion, a rich Southern gentleman. ‘‘He must have some ex- ceeding funny anecdotes to relate of his experience; and then, I'd like to tip him a game.” “hess he don’t play any more, colonel, but he is as full of yarns as a hornet is of honey. That's the reason they call him Old Relic.” In the mean tifme, words were passing between Arnold and Mrs. Chelton, as they seated mselyes more in retirement from the rest. “You said you wouldn’t gamble any more, Arnold!’ accused the little pale-faced woman, who had but a year and a half ago been blooming, courted Louise Lester; ‘‘and yet, you have just come from the saloon, with that insolent Dice Rutherford, where you have been losing heavily for hours on a stretch.”’ “Humph! another curtain lecture, eh?’ the hus-, band sneered, sarcastically. ‘‘Perhaps I’ve lost some, but that does not signify that it’s any of your’ business. You are meddlesome.” is “Oh! Arnold!’ she sobbed, resting her head pen his shoulder, “‘ why are you so harsh to me? 4 will you not be good to me, as you promised ere we were married?” 9 “Mind your business, and stop interfering with mine, and I wil! treat you allright.) There! there! ery zP your sniffling, or you'll attract attention. Dart be a baby, just because you know how. See; the boat is running in to yonder shore, to load up afresh with wood. Look at the darkies upon the icr.” Thus he drew Louie’s attention upon other things, which gave him an opportunity to slip away from her Ah! not a happy life was hers, with Arnold Chel- ton. Their honeymoon had been blissful, as the word goes, but after that a change came. He grew stern and harsh toward her; neglected her, but was violently jealous if another person spoke to her. He drank and gambled to exceas, and fast was using the “ready cash he had inherited from old Jacob Morgan. Fortunately the real estate and Government bonds he had not offered to touch, except the income from the latter, And Louie! She grew to fear him, and, when her entreaties failed, to loathe him, Ah! many, many times did the poor girl-wife weep in secret over her refusal of the true love of poor Sam_ Morgan. Nor did she: ever forget the threat of the Phenix. _ The boat at last touched the shore, where whites and blacks were gathered, indiscriminately, and the 15 work of loading began. It was a short job, for the boat's storage capacity was but small, and a dozen — stout bucks were engaged in the loading. At last the job was complete, and the boat swung off. S A short time afterward an old man hobbled up onto the upper deck, where the excursionists were still nented: for none could bear the thought of seek- ae the close stafe-rooms, on such a balmy night as A queer old customer was this new arrival. He was bent and apparently decrepit, for he leaned upon two crutches, and every move seemed to cause hee agrunt for the pain occasioned, He was clad in | rags; his hair and bushy beard were of a snow white; spectacles were upon his eyes, and a sloue hat drawn down over his forehead to meet them. In his hand he carried a basket of large cranges, and these he began to pass in front of the excursionists, as if to tempt their Aube S. “Nice oranges, shentlemen'” he said, ina strange, ther ea voice. “Sweet as honey from a maiden’s ips.’ - _** Hillo!? Dice Rutherford, the gambler,exclaimed; “ do my eyes deceive me, or is it really old Rebel- lion Relic, still at his old calling?” “ Guess it’s ther old man, sir,’ replied the peddler, with a chuckle. ‘‘D’ye remember the time, Dice, when we used ter sail on these here waters, a few — years agone, when things were real lively, I tell ye? Oranges gents. Ycs, we used to hev sum pritty tough times them days, no mistake, We hed Southern yentlemen, then, who war free with their — money, and would jes’s lieve shute as drink. . “They call me Rebellion Relic, gents, because I went th ther war without gettin’ a scratch, — Oranges, sir; swéet as encrusted honey from a young gal's lips, I do assure you!” And a fine sale the old man found for his kasket of fruit, soon disposing of it at a fair price. : Chelton purchased a round dozen, as Le was very — fond of them. ; “Now, Relic!” said Dice Rutherford, as the old man finisbed, “‘can’t you give us a little of your ex- — perience? I know you're chuck-full of anecdotes, — fad woe are dying for something to break the mono- — ony.” oa “Hey? anecdotes, is it? Wal, Dice, old boy, ther — old man ain't as good as he used to be- lost his memory, after he got blown up wi’ that steamboat — explosion several reas ago; memory went on up — Ebi the skies, while Relic come down in'a sugar pla ‘ion. ; ict “That gentleman yonder, Dice!” pointing to — Arnold Chelton, ‘‘reminds me of a feller w’at used — to run upon the river, whose name war Felix Gaines, — He was a notorious old gambler and rowdy—ealled _ him Wild Bill, fer short—and probably he’d done more butcherin’ in his time than Bill Hickox. out — West. Once upon a time he bu’sted a feller’s spire, in New York, an’ chucked him down inter a sewer where he was found by acouple of rat-catchers, an’ \— fetched to life. Oh! he war a terrible cuss, Ttell ye. = Sum war afraid of him, for it was calkylated he could lick anything that trod ther deck, 7 “One night be cum aboard ther boat witha crowd of passengers, an’ I'see’d thar was blood in his eye, for he strid up an’ down deck like a mad bull, No. one sed nuthin’ ter him, fer he’d ’a’ shot ’em, like’s not, fer interferin’. He war savage, an’ bymeby he — began cussin’, We didn’t kno’ the cause, till we see a boat.put out from’ashore, an’ in a few minutes a— half-dozen planters an’ a zal came aboard. All war — armed wi’ revolvers an’ whips, and it looked as if — some one war goin’ ter git dressed outin shape, ‘*When Wild Bill see’d ’em he swore a lot of Bible — names, an’ he sed, sez He: a ee ‘Heer I am, you devils, if it is Wild Bill ye wan . ~ ie “Wich-it is,’ sed one of the planters, and then 4 rushed upon him, bound bim hand an’ foot an’ each give him a whack with the whip, an’ each put — seven bullets inter his carcass!” ; 2
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18 7 Jim Bludsoe, Jr. “Worrible!’ exclaimed one of the ladies, “TI CHAPTER IX. zal never lenew such horrible crimes were perpetrated in the river-boats, bad as were their reputations, It ‘seems incredible, sir!’ “But ar’ nevertheless a fact, ma'am. But Wild Bill warn’t dead, not by a long shot, Phenix-like he riz frum his bleedin’ ashes, an’ ther last planter hed aay. just left the boat w’en Bill sung out: * PIL bet five hundred dollars I van beat any man aboard at a square gam 0’ eueher ? In the laughter that followed, Old Relic slipped from the deck and went below, followed by Dice Rutherford. ‘*Hello!’’ presently exclaimed one of the company —“here’s a novelty. That old skinflint bas cheated me by selling me a hollow orange. Ha! and asI live there is a paper inside of it. What trick is this?” Instantly a curious crowd elie around him and he drew forth the crumpled paper and spread ib out: : “Ha! strange reading, I must say: ‘ The Phenin tins, while Sam Morgan’ lies dead in the bottom of the Delaware!” As the words were spoken, the face of Arnold Chelton and his wife became deathly white, and while the latter sunk upon the floor insensible, the former drew a revolver, and sprung down the stairs to the lower deck, : The first man he encountered was Gueleppo, the villainous Italian, who occupied the position of tem- porary. captain of the boat for the i Like a faith- ul dog, this man had followed the fortunes of Ar- nold Ghelton, since their departure from New York, in which time they had traveled extensively in the Eastern and Southern States, Well paid for his ser- vices, he could well afford to work for the interést of his employer. “The old tramp—what has become of him?” Chel- ton demanded, excitedly. ‘Quick! speak before I kill you!” * “Kill me?” growled Gueleppo, grimly. ‘*Reckon it wouldn’t pay you to do that, Cap. What about the tramp? — “ Where is he?” roared the millionaire, nearly be- side himself with rage. ““Who—the old orange peddler?”’ “Yes! yes!” “He's gone ashore in a boat which he had towin’ alongside. ‘And the gambler—Dice Rutherford?” “ Went with him!’’ “ -en thousand furies! cape? One or the other of them was the accursed boy we tried to burn in the yacht. Heis alive and dogging me, wherever I go.” / “Sam Morgan alive?” : “* Yes, alive, and hounding me down to death!’ Then the millionaire related about the paper inside the hollow orange, and how the Relic had their sewer secret, in his anecdote. * But whois this Dice Rutherford?” “T know not; probably some detective whom the _ young devil has po ach as an accomplice.” f “Which is bad for us. In case of your death eee. you inherited goes to young Morgan “eh? _** Yes, I suppose so; in reality he has a better rizht to it than I.” i “Then I should hate to be in your-tracks, that’s all, He'll lay for you and cut your throat from ear ear. And with this comforting assurance, the captain turned away. Chelton went into the cabin and drank several Why did you let them es-» iuted at_ AT BULL'S RUN—THE DUTCH PAWNBROKER—A JE’ THAT KNOWS HIS BIZ—THE WANDERING MINSTREL— THE SCHEME AND ITS SUCCESS, Botu’'s Run! Not the famous battle-zround, whereon so many brave hearts fell, but a little Western tmining-town of no particular excitement or interest. Travelers and artists occasion lly wander hither, because of the gigantic mountians and wild scenery of its sur- roundings; but for mining-interests, Bull’s Run was literally dead and a thing of the past. There was a small amount of placer mining done upon the flats by the slow-going inhabitants of the. little town; a stage with mails came and departed twice a week; a new arrival’ was viewed with curiosity by the — : uncouth citizens. The place probably numbered two hundred souls, an shanties forthe accommodation of these hu- mans were unevenly scattered about without any attempt at streets. There were one or two taverns, a smithy, and a school-house; also one dry-goods store and a pawnbroker’s shop, Just about a year after the occurrence of the. events ‘last narrated, the stage one day brought to Bull’s Run.a trio of strangers—the Cheltons and their body-servant, the villainous Gueleppo,. Their arrival created considerable excitement among the inhabitants. What did it mean? No tourists so richly dressed as this party had ever graced the town before; none were ever likely to scion for wild scenery could be found almost any- where in the Rockies, and mauy a fairer place than this Bull’s Run, which possessed no extraordinary attractions. Straight to the foremost tavern the Cheltons went 3 after disembarking from the stage, and procured pet and accommodations for three days, which was to be the limit of their stay. ~ But little change had occurred in the appearance of the three sine last we saw them, except it were that Louise looked a trifle older, and there was & worn expression upon her face, A f>w more silver. hairs threaded Chelton’s hair and mustache, and Gueleppo’s swarthy skin seemed yearly to grow swarthier. Later in the day, after their arrival at Bull’s Run, Chelton entered his wife’s apartment, a strange ex- pression upon his face, as he beheld the little creature—not yet a woman in age—sitting at a win- dow, and gazing wearily out at the bleak aspect of their surroundings. All this travel and sight-seeing had lost its charm with her; she longed to return to dear old Phiiadelphia. Well, my dear, how do you like the look of things — in this out-of-the-way place?” was his salutation, as he seated himself and removed a cigar from be- tween his teeth. ‘I flatter myself it is just the place for my business.” “Wor your business?” she interrogated, looking up indifferently. “Exactly, dear—for my business. I have brought you here for a purpose, as you have probably not guessed. You must now do-what I requested you to do, some time ago—sign over your property to me!” “Not never!” she cried, rising to her feet, in- dignation in her voice and demeanor. ‘Villain though you are, Arnold Chelton, you shall not triumph in this. Is it not enough that you have spent all of your own available cash, without squandering mine? No, I will never sign over my little fortune into your hands.” “So you told me befcre, my dove!” the villain said, coolly, ‘but I would not believe you. every confidence that I could fix you with foree, if out-of-the-way place, where erinie is an into will see the urgent necessity No--neverl i. ey
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Jim Bludsoe, Jr. 19 “You won't? Well, then, while I call Gueleppo in to hold you, it shall -be my aap duty to cut your fair throat from ear to ear!” Louie uttered a cry of horror. “Oh! surely! surely you would not murder me, Arnold ?”” “Sorry; but that is precisely what I shall do, un- Jess goa sign the papers which I have here, all in pes mess, had them made out in St. Louis. Gue- eppo!’ . Hi Yes, sir,” came the response, and the Italian , stepped inside the room, ‘“* At your service, sir!” ‘Good! Did you find a place to get the knife sharpened?” ‘ “No, sir; but I purchased one,at a Jew pawh- broker’s below here, which is as keen as a razor.” “Very well; that will answer the same. purpose. At a Jew pawnbroker’s, you say?” “Yos, sir” “What kind of an individual?” “A Jew, sir, with a big corporosity.” es and did you notice or learn what his name is?” “T just chanced to glance at his sign, sir. Isaac fsaacs is his name!” “Is it possible? The very man I want to see. He skinned out of Philadelphia, two years and a half ago.” Then Chelton turned upon his young wife, who was sobbing bitterly. “Come! come! you baby, dry up your bawling. Will you sign the pavers, or have your throat cu In preference? Give me the knife, Gueleppo, an prepare to seize her!” “No! no; Iwill never sign them, you demon!” Louie fairly screamed, rising to her feet, and level- ing two revolvers upon the astonished ins. “‘Get . out of the room, or, as God is my judge, I will put a bullet through both of your black hearts!” She stood proudly erect, a steely glitter in her ayes, a compression of her lips denoting resolu~ tion. Never a particle did the two weapons quaver; ae the two men felt that she would do as she had said, “Go!” she repeated, her voice ringing out clearly; “eo or you are dead men! Do not think that I cannot shoot or am afraid, or you will find out your mistake, I have in secret been preparing for tcis hour when I should needs defend myself against you two human wolves!” Astonished beyond measure, Chelton slunk hastily from the room, and was followed by his tool, the italian. Down in the bar-room below, the two wor- thies held a consultation over their defeat, which Chelton closed with the following words: “We cannot do anything more with her at pres- ent. She is on guard, and it would be dangerous to trifle with her. I shall first have to coax around her, make apologies, and any amount of promises, and in that way reduce her suspicion and watechful- ness. time we will use revolvers instead of knives.” Then they parted, although the faithful Italian was always within call, ready to fly to his master’s aid in case of need, Chelton went out from the tavern, and searched for the pawnbroker’s, He was not long in finding 8 little shanty close by, over the door of which hung a sign: "Tsaac Isaacs, Loan Orvicr.”’ ‘*Ah! the millionaire exclaimed, as he stepped Within the front room, which was occupied as a store; “this is the place, as I thought.” Isaac Isaacs—the identical, self-same Isaac, glos- sy faced and rotund—stood behind the counter, burnishing a brass watch-case into a fair represen- fation of gold. “Hello, Mr. Isaac Isaacs!’ cried Chelton, with a yrimlaugh. ‘* This is the last place in the world I should expect to find you.” “Eh? you vas surprised ter vind der oldt Vander | elassful, ~ ing Jew vay out mit der West, hey? Vell, pizness 0% so slow in de city, unt I vas so ferry poor, dot I vas forced to pull out. Who vash you, onnyhowft Ish you Dan Jones?” “ no!” Schneider, den?” “Nor Philip!” “Ish dot s0? Den you must be dot t'lef, Jake Schwartz, vot sdole avay mit a tray of my fold hunuding-gase watches. Aha! you peesh Shake?” “ Nixy, old man! You don’t know me, I guess.” “Oh! don’t fool mit yerself. Isaacs vas no such a large fool as you subbose. I twig you, ash de Ee used der say. ou ish Hyman Scbroeder, der bick- bocket, vat left sum sdolen silvervare mit my pawn- shop, for vich I got six veeks in Moyamensing brison. - Yah! dat ish shoost who you pe.” “Hal ha! old man, you’re wrong again, I don’t think you know me at all: never knew you—at least, intimately, My name is Arnold Chelton, the mea pe I ‘sueceeded to old Jacob Morgan’s estate.” : 2 ‘Ish dot so? You succeeded in peating old Shake Morgan, eh? Vell, dot vas_pad. Sbake couldn’t ou bad demost glubs transact now, as if other time. concerning the w’ ceased?” ““ Hey? how vas dot?”’ “What do you know about the will of the late Ja- eob Morgan, deceased?” “Tsh dot so? Shaccb vas ceased drinking, den? Vell, dot ish gopt. We used to vas elegandt friends, unt took our Jemonade straight. But sumdimcs Shake he vould get so full as a ped-pug, uut 1 haff to carry Lim home in my arms. Yaw, Shake he vas haff a vill of his own, unt he could fight like sum dwo or tray Sitting-Pulls, I dell you.” “Oh! nonsense; you don’t understand af all!” ex- claimed Chelton, impatiently, with a frown, “Yaw, I understand, ferry goot. My foundation vas ferry large fora small man like me. I wear siv- teens, large!’ Se “ Botheration! I’m not alluding to your beer ca- pacity, nor your feet. I want to know what you "i Morgan? “‘ Nodinks—literally nodinks.”* “You lie.” : “You lie pack again, mit yourself!” “Look out, you infernal Jew! You'd better not rile me.” * Neider vas it.so nice as you might dink to agitate a man of nee caliber, sar! ith grin, as he held up a knotty pair of fists. “or weigh shust dree hundredt unt sixty-five pounds an’ swei _ ounces!” Chelton was forced to laugh. He might as well : co laugh as ery, for he saw that this man thoroughly knew his own business, and was as keen as a razor. “*See here!’ he said, leaning upon the counter, “there’s no use of being at swords’ points, You know something I desire to know. Come over to the tavern with me, and take a smile.” “Oh! no; I could not leaf my shop; some tief sneak in and sdole avay my vatches, my goldt, unt my diamonds. Den I pe poorer ash poet ‘Then perhaps you keep a bottle here, eh?” * Nodinks but lemonade, at fife tollars a schmell!’’ ‘Phew! you Jews have no lacking for cheek, a all. Well, here is an X; dish out some of yo swill!” and the schemer laid a ten-dollar bill upon — the counter, Isaacs pocketed it with a smile of thanks, and then — ee Cheiton poured outa = set out a bottle and glasses and raised it to his lips, ow about the last will and testament of old Jacob ’ r plied Isaacs, with a —
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is Jim Bludsce, Jr. “Why, thig is no lemonade; it’s the best article of brandy!’ he exclaimed. “Ish dot so?” drawled the Jew, his little eyes blinking merrily, “Dot ish de kind of a Jewsharp J am! They drank twice around, and then Chelton looked straight at the man bebind the counter. “Now,” ho'said, “how much do you know about the will of Jacob Morgan?” *Nodinks, Mishter Chelfton Avenue—nodinks, I assure you,” and Isaacs picked one of his gleam- ing teeth with a huge bowie-knife. ‘‘You come to Pull’s Run an’ t’ink you bulldoze sumt’ings out uff dish Jew pawnproker, but you vas ferry mooch misdaken, Isaacs vas so mooch here as you Vink he vasn’t, unt ven you find out anyt’ink apoud vat you don’t know from dis Jewsharp, you had pettsr py_sum more lemonade at fife tollars a schmell. Yaw! Pid yaw!’ and the pawnbroker Jaughed cunning’ ‘a ; Chelton grew livid ~with rage, and it is doubtful what he would have said or done had not at this in- stant a third person entered the room, He was a young nezro, with a face as black as an ace of spades, the whites of his eyes showing ludi- crously. He was well formed, commonly dressed, and wore a clownish hat on his head, which was covered with a mass of jetty hair, in the finest, wooliest curls, In his hand he carried a banjo that hai +vidently seen many hardships. “Tfallo! ish dot you, Mister Snow?’ exclaimed Tsaacs, advancing from behind the counter and setting a chair. ‘‘Take a chair unt give us some music. Lish a loafer of goot music, ant you haven't bin aroundt since week pefore next. Mister Snow, dis ish Mister Chelton Avenue, from Philadelphia.” The negro acknowledged the introduction with a grin and a bow, and then proceeded to tune up his azel instrument. While he was thus engaged at Chelton gazed at him as though stupe- For in that face, black as it was, he recognized the Jeatures of Sam Morgan! : Yes, there could be no mistake; they were the simeas when he had last seen them two years and a half ago. Sim Morgan alive! : True enough, like a Phenix, he had risen from his ashes! And with him alive, what did it signify to Arnold Chelton? Sooner or later—dzath / Well tha villain knew this, and as he stood there, with averted face, that the pallor upon it might not be noticed, he resolved that his fou, Phenix or no henix, should never leave the town alive, ~* Mr. Snow strung up_his banjo, and then played several artistic solos. Unable to stand the pressure, Isaacs, with all his avoirdupois, stepped out upon the floor and gave some of the best efforts at clog- dancing that Chelton had ever seen. He was as light a3 a fe ther when lightness was required, and alto- ether a most extraordinary dancer. Nor was Mr. Baow to be easily excelled upon the banjo. He pro- admirable and lively music, and rof old-time ballads and planta- eculiarly sweet in tone—a voice that was not Sam Morgan’s: and this caused Chelton to wonder if it were ngt possible that he was mistaken?—that this was not Morgan? Surely if Snow’s face was arti cially blacked, it was a most perfect execution of work. But there were those gleaming eyes and hand- somely-molded features, that betrayed his identity. He soon finished his vocalism, and arose to de- : art. Chelton tossed him a coin, and then hurriedly “Jeft the pawn-shop. Outside, he found Gueleppo lounging conveniently near. - “Watch the negro—trail him to his lair, but be eautious ip your work!” the millionaire said, as he duced some ver then sung a num ) tion refrains, in a voice hurried by toward the tavern, never once looking at. the Italian, and k But Gueleppo understood, all the same, ept his vigil. He aid not put in an appearance at the tavern, until x. - about midnight, but Chelton was still up and wait: ing for him, in the bar-room. é pa Ha made you so late?” he demanded, impa- 16m = “ Oh! I took matters ar and mide sure of my’ game,” the Italian replied, in a chuckling whisper. “You didn’t capture him?” “Yes, 1 did—knocked him down, bound him, and carried him out of town, four or five miles from nor where.” , “ And killed him?” , “Not much. I left you to do the butchering part. Reckon I’.e salted away about enough humans to insure me a safe Meg to the devil’s regions.” “Allright. Dll finish the job,” Chelton said, grim- ly. ‘Wait here tillI go and get my medicine.’ “Ara you going to use the same stuff you fixed out old Morgan with?” ‘““Yes—the inhalation, you gave me,” “Better stick him with a knife, along with it, to make sure.” oI “Ugh! no; I detést bloodshed, where I have to do it parsonally. The liquid ought to do the work.” “Ty will, Pll guarantee.” Chelton ran SP to his room—one he had engaged separate from that used by his wife, and soon re- turned, motioning for Gueleppo to lead the way. Accordingly they left the tavern and issued out into the dark, starless night. Through the intricacies of the uncouth little town they hurried, and out upon the rolling prairie, that fronted to the eastward. It was some time before the Italian could distin- guish his surroundings, but at length he struck into a trail, and hurried on, In half an hour, by swift walking, they came to where the figure of the negro lay outstretched upon the ground, with his ebony face upturned toward the heaven. He was securely bound, and rendered > utterly helpless. at: ‘Hal hal Sam Morgan; a we have you!” helton exclaimed, kneeling beside the prisoner. “One? before you escaped death, but you shall not now,” “You cannot‘ kill me!” was the eae in a low, strange tone. “You murdered Sam Morgan ina most horrible manner, but his spirit, clothed in the flesh of, the Phenix, arose to haunt you : nd put you ‘through to death.’ The Phenix is imperishable!”’ ** Aha! we will see about that. I have a poison tor you to inhale, here, which will fix you, I guess. Ghue- eppo, tie this cloth over his face!” ne Italian firmly fastened the patch of woulen cloth over the negro’s face, according to direction. Then Chelton hastily poured the contents of a large vial upon the cloth, after which the two villiins turned back toward Bull’s Run, “We shall have to dig out of here on to-morrew $ stage, before the body is discovered, or that accars- ed old Jew may accuse us of the crime. I guess the devil’s done away with for sure, this time.” “Undoubtedly. Did you make anything our of the Jew?” He’s game to the backbone,” gz. On the following morning the Chelton party Jeft Bull’s Run on the stage. : CHAPTER X. THE PHENIX ARRIVES, DEADWoop! The wonderful Black Hills city, of strange, ex ing history and wild reputation—Deadwood, the theme of conversation when Eastern men neet — Western—the first city in ang peaetian and com- merce in the Black Hills. W eribe it? It is. the same now as when the notorious Deadwood Dick disappeared from his chief field of action for Jim Biudsoe, Jr., to come and take his place with as dar- ing a gang of men as ever Dick had he: = jome even said Bludsoe was a second Dick, or the old one in disguise, but of course this assertion wag x
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S Jim Bludsoe, Jr. 19 improbable, when Dick was known to be up at Eure- ka, in Idaho, / One balmy afternoon toward. the close of last Oc- tober, six months after the events last narrated, the Cheltons arrived in Deadwood. They came in on the stage and took quarters at the United States for an indefinite period. ; Gueleppo, the Italian, was with them as usual. At this time Jim Bludsoe, Jr’s, name was upon everybody's tongue in the metropolis; miners and stage-drivers daily brought in complaints; a thorough-going, first-class road-agent the fellow evi- dently was, and his backers were evidently accom- lishedscamps, But when thatevening’s stage from Flayward City was rolling noisily through Black Can- on. six miles out from Deadwood, it was signaled ‘0 halt by a clear ringing voice, and out of a trans- verse defile rode this Bludsoe and his men, in pairs, and surrounded the stage. A few shots were fired by the passengers within the stage, and one or two of the road-agents dropped put of their saddles. But, when the grim riders closed in on every side, the passengers saw that re- sistance was useless, and became quiet. Then the youth, Bludsoe, Jr., dismounted, and flung ppen the stage door. ; 2 * Jim Bludsoe. junior, gents!”’ he said, coolly, peer- fIngwithin, “ All you that have valuables will con- fer a favor by handing them over without delay. we road-ageuts cannot wait long, on in-going car- rages!’ ‘Deadwood Dick, again!’ whispered one of the miners, but just loud enough to reach the ear of the highwayman, “No, not Deatwood Dick, gentlemen, but his suc- cessor in business, Jim Bludsoe. Comé! pan out, or to smash goes this old stage, and its contents, quick- er than lightnin’!” The passengers grumblingly handed out their valu- ables, all of which the road-agent coolly stored in his eapacious pockets. : hen he had received all, evidently, he sprung to tne back of his horse, his men swept aside, and the stage was allowed to continue its journey toward Deadwood, That evening Mrs. Chelton was seated in a parlor of their suit of rooms at the hotel, watching the surging tide of humanity below, in the main street of the town. A curious collection of beings were there, in all manners of dress, and of all nationalities. Chinamen were plentiful, but more than plentiful were the rough, uncouth natives of the West—miners, scouts and trappers. Mrs, Chelton was all alone, Arnold and Gueleppo had gone out, to visit some gaming den, no doubt, and she had naught to occupy her attention but to watch the crowds be‘ow—not until she heard a foot- as within her room. Then she sprung to her feet, and uttered a shriek as she beheld the form of &marstanding close by, in the light of the chandélier. ‘Sam Morgan!” she cried, growing deathly pale. ees Bludsoe, Jr., at your service!’ he replied, coolly. < “Ohl it cannot be! Do you think you ean deceive me? You are—” ‘Jim iludsoe!” came again; ‘the road-agent, and Phenix, which rose from the ashes of Sam Morgan!” And a striking looking chap was this Bludsoe. Straight and muscular of form, with limbs like bars of iron; a broad, deep chest, an upright, manly carriage; a face which though brown and tanned was handsome; eyes keen and piercing; mouth firm and resolute of expression; and hair brown and worn long upon the shoulders, 4 His dress was characteristic of more-elecance than usually is found in a road-agent. Pants, vest and coat were of some licht cloth, and fitted him per: Leen i A broad sombrero was tipped back upon his head, Jauntity; diamonds gleamed upen his shirt 1 front and fingers, and a massive double gold chain was strung across his vest front. Louie uttered another scream at the words of the handsome stranger. | / ‘Oh! do not deceive me?” she pleaded, piteously. ‘Tell me the truth,and free my mind from this har- rowing suspense !"’ : “WasTI not killed in that explosion on the Dela- ware?” he said, gazing at her thoughtfully. ‘I don’t see how I can be alive and Sam Morgan, after being securely bound, and left a prisoner in the engine-room of the yacht.. No, I.am not Sam Mor- an—that is impossible. I am Jim Bludsoe, Jr., the Oy. Phenix.” “Tdo not understand. You say you were lefta prisoner in the yacht.” P : “And told the truth, That excursion was planned by your beloved husband and _ his Italian butcher,. nEIeP EO, especially for my destruction, though knew not, until afterward, I was CHeaEen ae engineer, but knew not who were to be my passen. gers. After we struck the bay. I was made a iy ar by Geclerne, and he fired the yacht.” ‘ Behe “Twas first burned into a crisp and my ashes tossed skyward by the explosion!” the road-agent assured, grimly. ‘Later I came to life as the Phenix!” “Oh! Sam, how can you fell such terrible false- hoods?” Louie exclaimed. ‘You can deceive me no longer.” She came swiftly forward—so close to him that her breath fanned his sunburnt cheek. “What do you want?” he demanded, shrinking away, apace, as if her presence were contaminat- i ng. “T want you to take me away from Arnold Chel- . ton—protect me,from his brutality—take me, and fly to another part of the earth, where I can live solely in your love.” “Then you do Jove me, yet?” he asked, gazing down at her, curiously. . ( “Love youl Dear Sam,I have never ceased to love you. I loved Paes when I made the one terrible mistake of my life, in marrying Arnold Chelton; I love you still, only with a passion tenfold stronger,” she replied, throwing her arms about his neck, But he hastily freed himself from her eth- bee oe her off at arm’s length, and held her ere, * Don't!” he said, gazing at her almost sternly; ‘“yemember you can be nothing to me, while you are his wife!’ “But he is wild, reckless and dissipated, and if by some act of ruffianism he should meet a merited death?” she questioned—‘ what then?” “Don’t give me conundrums to answer!"’ he ‘salu. sternly. ‘‘My name is Bludsoe, Jr,and I am not now @ marrying man. You chose a villain in my place three years ago. and you will have to abide with your lot. You will confer a favor by not men- tioning me to your amiable husband, as he might kill me again, which would put me to the trouble of once more rising from my ashes, I bid youa pleas- ant good-evening, Mrs. Chelton,” and then the road- agent turned on his heel and strode from the room, lige a white-faced, wild-eyed woman staring after m Poor Louie! what a terrible mistake her latter life had been! had been wrecked by her union with Chelton; knew ~ that she hated herself for peg ea 4 him. and that she loved this Jim Bindsoe, be he Phenix, Bohemicn or road-agent, with all the fervor of her young, pas- _sionate nature. Ah! would or could this love ever be rewarded? No! Bludsoe had as muchas said that he wouldnever take her for his wife, out of spite for her refusal, three years ago. : | Yn the mean time Arnold Chelton was spending his evening in gambling at a keno-table in the Mes | SP) ‘“ She saw it now—saw how her whcle life ~
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20 Jim Bludsoe, Jr. tropolitan saloon, in company with a little, white- whiskered old Mennonite gambler, whose name was Harwood. Three times the millionaire had lost largely, and he was cursing his ill-luck roundly, when a new-comerstepped up. ~ “You have lost some of your former practice, I guess, old fellow!” this new-comer exclaimed, slap- peng Chelton familiarly upon the shoulder. ‘ The ime was, three years ago, when you were the ter- ror of all the faro and keno games in Philadelphia.” Chelton looked around with an oath, as was char- teristic of him. The older he grew the more fre- quent his speech became interlarded with oaths. “Who are you?’ he growled, eying the hand- somely dressed stranger in surprise. ‘‘I don’t know you.” “Guess not,” assented the other. “Three years covers up old tracks of guilt, and 3 dete new faces on old acquaintances. My name is Jack Jaunders, de- tective!” ; *And a consort of Sam Morgan, also!’’ Chelton cried, fiercely. ‘‘ Ha! ha! but I guess I do remem- os om You were Dice Rutherford, on the Missis- ppi.” *Probably. We detectives have to get ourselves disguised sometimes, and associate with the worst of roe such as you and that Italian dog of yours!” ‘Look out, sir, or you will repent your words!” Chelton cried, springing to his feet. ‘I will tolerate - none of your insolence!”’ “Oh! you won’t, eh? Well, maybe in preference you'd rather tolerate a pair of bracelets!’ and aunders brought forth a pair of the articles from a pocket in his coat. The millionaire grew white in an instant, and reeled back. “‘Romember!” Jaunders continued, coolly, ‘ that yen are wanted for the murder of several persons, ‘in Philadelphia, und I’d just as lieve take you as not, So you had better keep quiet, if you don’t want to get your neck stretched.” Then he turned on his heel and strode away. Assoon as he could recover from his excessive agitation, Chelton motioned to weed 8 who was lubricating rather freely at the bar. The Italian ac- cordingly came up with his face flushed and breath Sey. scented with the stuff the Deadwoodites call whisky. “You saw that man?’ Chelton interrogated, meaning Jaunders. «Yes, I see’d him.” “Well, he is a detective, and is on our trail, He will attempt to arrest us, soon, if we give him the chance. You must follow, and find where he holds forth, so that we can lay for him. It is as much to your interest as mine, for he knows the truth.” “I'm goin’ back to Phily!’’ Gueleppo growled, sul- Jenly. We've been dogged ever since we left. In the city a feller has a better sbow—” “ Of getting nabbed if he steps out of doors, Here in this country a manissafer. Morgan is dead; that leaves only this Jaunders to shake off, and then we shall be without enemies.” Gueleppo turned away, grumblingly, and dogged the footsteps of Jack Jaunders. E ' The young detec.ive left the Metropolitan, and visited first one and then another of the saloons, ‘until he had made a circuit of the town. He was evidently in search of some one, but fail- ing to find that person, fe finally relinquished his object and turned toward his lodgings, : these were in the Centennial Hotel, which stood - close at hand. Without glancing around, the detective entered the large hallway, and ascended the stairs. _. Like a shadow, ao a oe the Italian, stole behind him, a long dirk-knife in his grasp. Murder was evidently his intention. But this was frustrated. On the first landing, Jaunders suddenly wheeled around, a cocked revolver in his hand, “You git, you Italian butcher, before I salivate youl” hecried, sternly. ‘Your chance to murder me has not come yet.’ “But will come!’ Gueleppo growled, turning, and descending the stairs. He went back and hunted up Chelton, who was still playing with the little Mennonite gambler. “You were too hasty,” was. his comment, after he listened to the Italian’s recital. ‘* We shall have to tackle him in another shape.” _But-just what shape they did not conclude upon right away CHAPTER XI. Pak BLUDSOE’S AGENTS AGAIN—-AND THE BOOTY THEY GOT, + WHEN Bludsoe, Jr., came, the Deadwoodites began to believe that a curse was resting upon their city, for never since its settlement had it known the words ‘peace and quietude.” Tither Indians or road-agents had thus far preyed upon the place almost with impunity. And now that they had gotten rid of Deadwood Dick, probably as bold and fearless an agent as ever sat in a saddle, and were congratulating themselves upon their good fortune, who should put im an ap- pearance but this youthful highwayman and his men, . Fearless were they and bold, too, and they held the surrounding approaches to the metropolis with a firm hand, although a company of Deadwood's stationed military had made repeated attempts to rout them out. But they held their own, even.as Deadwood Dick had done in bygone days, and hard- ly ever did a stage escape them, or a consignment of gold reach its destination. On the succeeding afternoon a well-loaded stage was coming through the Two Mile Canyon from the upper mines, ‘ The day was a balmy one in the Black Hills. with a bright blue sky hazed with the touch of Indian summer; a drowsy red sun soaring overhead, anda soft breeze stirring through the walls of the canyon. perfumed with the pe site odors of a thousan wild flowers, natives of this wonderful flower-para- dise of America. Perhaps there is no other place on the continent where flowers of countless varieties grow in such profusion, as if to relieve the pictur- esque ruggedness that Nature’s hand has strewn around liberally. At the request of the passengers within the large open stage, Jehu had allowed his horses to come to a walk, and the conveyance rolled leisurely through the deep canyon bottom, while those who were wi.hin it feasted their eyes upon the wildness and mighty grandeur of the scene, Among the passengers was an_old man, with flow. ing white beard, and a young lady, pretty as a dream, who from hertesemblance to the man, we judge to be his daughter, Pretty, fair-faced, blue-eyed, and fair-haired, is she—a little human wex doll, with a form as grace- fulland well-rounded as a pos-d statue. = Too dainty a little thing for this wild country, you might say, yet in full health is she, with a strong ladsome eye, and a general agility of movement, lenoting vigorous life. Both she and the old gentleman were dressed rich- ly, and evidently occupied higher stations in life than the rough miners who mainly filled the stage, Refinement and culture were to be read in taeir features and speech. : “Oh! Feral are not those mountain walls grand beyond d scription?” the maiden cried, enthus’asti- cally. ‘‘They remind me of grand paintings I saw in the Art Gallery, at the Centennial, by the old masters.” “‘Reekon these pictures ar’ painted by ther oldest master 0’ all, my leddy—Goramighty !” observed one of the miners. “Thar ain’t one o’ them genteel eastern paint-slingers as kin git a true idea o’ the mountings, just as they are.”
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Jim Bludsoe, dr. 21 . ‘““There is sorae truth in your assertion, sir,” re- og the maiden’s father, bowing. “Ido not think he generality of artists do get the correct idea of mountains and mountain scenery and hfe, although some creditable (8 teat are made.” “Yes; ther artist chap neglects ter put in a band o’ road-agents, allus, which robs the picture uv ets due romance and poetry.” : ‘“Ah! do you have road-agents up here in the Hills, then, as we did in California, years ago?” the old man demanded, with an anxious start, and an apprehensive glance toward his beautiful daughter. *Reckon we do, capt’in; leastwise, thet's w'at they say—kinder licensed toll-gates, #8 see, kept by gentlemen, who’d as leave shute as h'ist ‘mountain dew.’ Ef ye’ve got any vallybles, ye’d ’a’ better left ‘em in Californy, fer I’m doubtful ef they are ever kerryed thru ter Deadwood on this yer old ominous- buss.” “How is this, driver?’’ the old gentleman demand- ed, turning to Jehu. ‘‘Do you apprehend an attack from road-agents?” “*Shouldn’t wonder,”’ replied the man, indifferent ly. ‘‘Bludsoe, Junior, bosses this trail, since Dead- wood Dick left, and he generally turns up about stage-time. No use ter get out them revolvers, gov’nor; these ain’t the old days o’ ’49. The fous o’ the road’ come ten to our one, an’ ef ye shute, ye’re liable to git your skull bu’sted.”’ “What! then are we to sit still and deliver up our valuables, without even raising a hand in defense?” eg old gentleman demanded, in astonishment and orror. . “Guess thet’s bout the caliber o’ ther subject, gov’nor. An’, by the way, ye’d better be a gettin out your contributions, fer yonder ajre Bludsoe and his men, now, a-waitin' fer us;” and the driver point- ed down the canyon, where some thirty-five or forty men were collected, some of them being drawn in a line across the gulch, while others were lounging about on convenient rocks. To an eye that had never before seen anything of the kind, this was a striking tableau of mountain life, ~All the men were a med with polished répeat- ing rifles, and mostly were villainous-looking, be- whiseered chaps—‘‘ old stagers ” in the dramatic life of the country of gold. “Yes; them’s yer road-agents!” cried one of the passengers, taking out his pocket-book with a sigh. ‘Paid my toll last week, but I expect I'll hev ter pay et ag’in. No use a-groanin’, pilgrims; it’s fork over, or stop cold lead.” The stage one romptly, when the horses’ noses came on a line with the barricade of outlaws. Jehu knew his business—knew his life would pay the forfeit should he attempt to run past. “Heer we aire, gentlemen—at Bludsoe’s toll-gate; Hie shootin’ now, or I'll not be responsible for what happens, “Your valuables, my friends!” cried a clear, ef ing voice, and young Bludsoe, the handsome, dandi- fied successor of Deadwood Dick, stood by the side of the stage. ‘* This is a fore’ n port into which Tou have sailed, and you musi pay the custom- use duties,”” One by one the miners forked over their valua- bles without a grumble—watches, rings, pins, and a laughable assortment of pocket-books and dust- pouches, As Bludsoe came to Governor Lennox and his beautiful daughter, and as his eyes rested for the first upon the latter, he leaped back with an exclamation, * Milly Lennox, you here!” his face flushing with pleasure and then with shame. “Sam Morgan, you here, and in this position!” Milly cried in astonishment. ‘You a road-agent?”’ “*So they say, Milly. My name is no longer Sam Morgan. As that boy, I perished in a yacht explo- sion upon the Delaware river three years ago. arose from my ashes, like the fabulous Phenix, in the Ruse of Jim Biudsoe, Junior.” ‘What means this intimacy of yours with this outlaw, child?” demanded Governor Lennox, angri- . “Driver, move ahead!” “Just hold your mules till I say RO; Jehu!” or- dered Bludsoe, Jr., coolly ‘ You don’t run stage, old gentleman, quite yet, For your impudence Ishould be justified In demanding your valuables, but on account of your daughter, who used to be a very dear friend of mine, I will allow you to esca' unseathed. You may consider yourself lucky. the other plunder, gentlemen, I will dispose of at a d igure, and the m ney proceeds therefrom shal go toward establishing a public school fund at Yank- ton, Dakota. My outlawry is not for profit so much as hie aS arene Miss arin we will meet again. Jehu, you are now at liberty to bow] alo: once more toward Deadwood.” if = And Jehu needed no second invitation; he swung his long-lashed whip, gave a screech that made the mountains ring, and away went the stage tearin down the canyon road at a tremendous speed, Neither of the Lennoxes spoke until they reached Deadwood, and found quarters in the ‘‘ Centennial ” hotel; then the old geutleman turned fiercely upon his beautiful be Ue “ Now, Mildred!” he said, sternly, ‘I wish to know about your we tat with this road-sgent!” “T have nothing to tell you father, further than thdt we were friends, when I lived in Philadelphia with aunt Charlotte. His name was Sam Morgan, then, and he was a very nice boy, who lived in the same tenement we did. I knew he was reported to have been blowa EP in a yacht explosion, and there- fore was Very much surprised to meet him out here. Poor Sam! he was very mucly sinned against, and that is probably what drove him to this wild life.” “Poor Sam, indeed! That sounds nice, now, doesn’t it, to come from the lips of a young girl of your standing and age?” Another stage was stopped by the notorious Blud- 80e, Jr., and his men, that day, just as the shades of night were falling over the mountains and gorges. — t was the fastest in the Hills—the one bringing the Cheyenne mail, crowded to its utmost capacity, as usual, and with several individuals on top, among trunks and general baggage. Chief among these latter piesa, noticeable more for his corpulency and great girth than his beauty, was Isaac Isaacs, the Jew pawnbroker from Bull’s Run, with his full stock in the four huge pack- ing trunks on either side of him. isgusted was Isaacs with the roughness of the road, and the velocity with which McGucken drove the creaking Old stage through the gloomy gorges, — where the shadows lurked darkly, before the sun had sunk in its western bed, and Toud were the Jew’s lamentations, when a great jolt of the convey: ance would bounce him up like a rubber ball; and when he came down he made the old rcof groan. “T vish ash vat I had stayed mit Pull’s Run!” the pawnbroker ejaculated, after one of his bounces, ‘T'vas no like all dish shaking wp off a veller’s in- sides, undil de, tumble sumersaults mit each odder. I dinks dey’d pedder ash pave de street mit cobble- stones an’ done wit? it.” : “Ruther jars ther conde of your prepon- derance, don’t it, old Jewsharp?” questioned Me- Gucken, grimly, as he saw an extra rut in the road, and gave the horses a violent lashing, Look out. now—’’ and the next moment Isaacs was bounced © fully two feet into the air, coming down with a force ihat made the old top creak, ; “Oh! vat for you drive so like all smash, m: frient?” groaned the Jew. ‘‘Dere pe not so mooe) asa pane left in my poddy, ven we get ter Dead- wood, I pet you de lemonade. Hello! vat in the tuyfel ish all dose fellers coming down de road, yonder?” “ Wthoa!? MeGucken roared, setting his back upon their haunches; “wake up, pilgrims; road-agerts, by thunder!” Lei - “Road tuyfels/’ gasped Isaacs, in alarm. ‘Oh? vat vil pecome off all my vatches, my shewels, unt OTscs
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of b 22 Jim Bludsoe, dr. my goldt? Dunderation! vy vor did I not stay mit Pull’s Run, v’ere dey had no road-agents?” “Yes, why cidn’t you, you old grunter?” growled McGucken. ‘Get out yer dudads, fer hayr’s Jim Bludsoe an’ his gang. No shutin’, or you’ll huff it ter Deadwood!” Up came Bludsoe, Jr., and his bold followers, and surrounded tha stage. Then out came the unwilli ses to be resigned, and coolly the successor o} Pesawaod Dick received them, kindly expressing his thanks to each donator. “Hello, you on the stage there!” saluted Bludsoe; “rot any valuables?” “Not vone valuable, py de stars !’’ solemnly assured Isaacs, trying to hide himself behind, his trunks, “Ve vas ash poor as a church mice!” } “Hello!” again cried Bludsoe, ‘*may I be kicked if it isn’t old Isaacs! Hey, old Jewsharp, didn’t know ou had friends here in Black Hilldom, did ye? ome, tumble yerself off here, you’re just the rooster I am anxious to see.” “No, I sthay bere mit der stage!” declared Isaacs, defiantly. ; “Nary a stay, you old beer-cask!’’ cried McGucken, and the next minute the unfortunate Jew was pitched head-over-heels down among the road- agents, while the stage rolled noisily away toward Deadwood, —_— CHAPTER XII. AND THE PHENIX ROSE—ISAACS’S LITTLE COMPLIMENT— “Puy! FLY! IT’S YOUR ONLY HOPE.” THAT same evening of Bludsoe’s robbery of the Cheyenne stage, Arnold Chélton received a visit from the Phenix while smoking an evening cigar on the balcony of the United States. He was’ at the time alone upon the baleony—sat with his feet perched upon the back of another chair enjoying his Havana and gazing down upon the imultitudes who thronged the street below. Nor did he hear a scund of human approach until alow quiet laugh aroused him, and caused him to look around with a start. Then he leaped to his feet ‘ with an oath, believing he saw in the ironical Blud- soe a living Sam Morgan. “ You!” he gasped, staggering back with a face as white as snow for the moment—‘my God! what mockery is all this?”’ Bludsoe motioned hima to resume his seat by a wave of hig right hand, which held a small cocked ee. while he proceeded to oceupy one just opposite. “You seem considerably surprised, Ohelton?”” the Phenix observed, puffing away at his cigar with cool indifference. ‘‘One would natura.ly suppose you had a gripe in the stomach, or—” “For God’s sake, stop!’ gasped the. villain, hoarsely. “Tell me, are you living—Sam Morgan— or dead?” « “Well, considering the matter from a practical Agim egy I should say that I am not aware deing disembodied, just. yet!” the young man replied, with a grim chuckle. “One hardly ever encounters spirits roving about with one hundred and fifty pounds of superfluous flesh about them, _ to say nothing about other etceteras, and so forth. still of that ghastly whitish hue; his As to Sam Morgan, you might be able to find a few of his bones yet,in the bottom of Delaware bay, roving the tide has not carried them away. our paccent company is James Bludsoe, Jr., the Boy Phenix, as you have probably dreampt.”” _Chelton remained motionless in his chair, his face eyes riveted upon the youth just opposite, in a wild claring gaze; his forehead clammy with perspiration, and his heart beating sluggishly. **What do you want?” he again faintly articulated, though it cost him aneffort. ‘Why do you come here?” “To pass away a few moments of time, whie the sheriff and_his men are searching for me, in the core yonder!’’ Bludsoe replied, with a nod toward e street, “TI spied you up here; came up and locked the door behind me, and here we are as nice as a bug in a rug, unless you attempt to vocalize for assistance, when I shall necessarily have to bullet-doze you in the latest Carolina style. Besides,I have a little business to transact with you—wish to relieve your mind, lest you still suspect me to be a supernatural, Lend me a lucifer, please.” Chelton extended his match-case with bad e, and Bludsoe accepted a couple of matches, with one of which he relit his cigar. = “Was up to call upon Mrs. C. last evening,” the road-agent went on, all as coolly as the reputed fri- gidness of a cucumber, ‘* but she didn’t appear to be very happy. Living with a natural-born human wolf, is not what it is cracked up to be. I warned her, however, before she married you.” — ; “She gets treated well enough, considering that she is only my unsuspecting slave!” Chelton replied, with a sardonic grin, ‘‘The girl was never legally made my wife!” Blu lsoe betrayed no astonishment or emotion, as the other had very naturally expected, at this de- claration. i “TI think you are mistaken!’ he replied, calmly. ‘*T know it was part of your plot with Charley Hes- ton to have a mock marriage performed; bnt it so happened that Morgan, the deceased Bohemian, had more power over the student than his cousin, your- self, and as a natural result, he, Heston, was induced to ce a real minister of the gospel in his place! and so— “You lie!” Chelton cried, fiercely, springing to his feet. ‘* Yon—” “Sh!” Bludsoe reminded, raising his derringer. “No need of raising your voice quite so loud; re- member that Sheriff Roxly, Jr., is below, and wante a fellow something after my style and disposition. It’s the truth and nothing but the truth, that you are legally bound to her who was Lou’‘e Lester, and I beeen to possess duplicate papers to show for it. So, this little information will furnish you food for future méditation. Perhaps you would like to know oe I escaped the two traps ygu so generously laid ‘or mé?’ t j “More than all else!” Chelton assented, with man- ifest eagerness, “It would enable me to obtain a clearer apprehension of the case.” “Very well. There being no more stages to sto) ei and having a little extra time, I don’t min ing you. s he stern life which we live, we never know when we are to be stricken. I was of course igno- rant of peril—ignorant of the hellish tran you had laid for me, until Gueleppo caught me at a disad- vantage and made me powerless. Then when I saw him set fire to the ica the whole truth flashed across my brain and I knew to whom I owed this threatened death. In vain I siraseed to free my self. Not because I was afraid to die did I struggle —I only yearned to get free for the sake of revenge. » And I was destined to have my wishes gratified, * “Suddenly a figure leaped from the burning hold, where the flames were zeging madi , and my bonds were cut, and I was pitched head-foremost into the bay, through the port-hole where I had been sitting at the time of my capture. The next minute my old chum and Bohemian pare, Jack Jaunders, came after me, and I knew to whom I owed my life. He knew Gueleppo to be a rascal, and scenting crime, he ee een himself aboard—quite luckily for my welfare, ~ “We swam out into the bay at 2. 1ro distance, and floating upon our backs, allowed thio tide to » wash us ashore. The next day I arrived in town and had the pleasure of reading my own obituary. “ That affair on the Mississippi was clever enough, but I did not give you achance'to nab me, as you . . . i
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Jim Bludsoe, Jr. would have liked no doubt. But at Bull’s Run, again got the best of me. Your villainous Italian again Jaid me out when I was not expecting him, and then you came to finish the.job, That was in- tended for a poisonous inhalation, what you put up- on the cloth and spread over my face, eh?’ Yes!” Chelton assented, with a wondering nod. “Well, it was the most ah capes poison I ever in- haled. By mistake you had brouzht along your perfumery bottie, in the place of your poison, and saturated the rag liberally with French cologne. _I take the present opportunity to thank you, for in those days I was not able to purchase an article so grateful to the smell!” . “You have been cursed fortunate!” he growled, savagely, “but you cannot always resist death, whether you call yourself devily Phenix. or what?” “*¥ do not intend to give you another dig at me!” Bludsoe assured, with a grim smile, “I shall keep watch of you. When I feel in a proper disposition, I shall arrest you and take you back to Philadelphia, and swing you off a scaffold, within Moya’s walls, for double murder. Ah! Arnold Chelton, you have fewer secrets from the Phenix than from the old Sam Morgan. I saw you take the life of our uncle; I was the darky who so bothered you. I was also that old fortune-teller, who knew so much about your business; I was within the Lester parlor, in deep disguise, at the time of your marriage; and I was the sham M. Sardou, whom you so kindly chucked down the sewer. But for the emptiness of that subterranean passage, I probably should never have escaped!” “You have been everything but the devil, and a part of him!’ was the reply, as Bludsoe arose, “ Going?” “Yes, causes me much sorrow ing!’ Bludsoe replied. trust: **So don't crowd on your neighbor, I advise you, With the thought that you'll triumph ag‘in, For your enemies’ll all criticise you, . When I flop up the trump-card and win!” Saying which the road-agent backed off the bal- cony, and was gone, beloved cousin, though I assure you it pee from so angelic a be- “We shall meet again, I ] The following forenoon, while sauntering through the main gulch street of Deadwood, which reflects a curious panorama of life, bustle and business, Ar- nold Chelton came face to face with—Isaacs, the _ itinerant Jew, whom we had left in the clutches of the road-agents. ‘ Isaacs was whistling that song about ‘ Dot Leedle German Band,” and his countenance was as fat, glossy, and beaming as, ever. “ Good-morning,’”’ Mr. Chelton Avenue!’’ he ex- claimed, putting out his chubby hand, ‘How you vas?’ . “Right well; how are you?” the millionaire re- plied, shaking hands, “Oh! Isaacs vas alvays der same—poor and hlithy. Dll take lemonade, if you say so.” ‘* Not at my expense, you won’t!’’ Chelton replied vith a chuckle. “I know you of old—a regular old skinflint, you are, with more money than brains,” “Vas? you t’ink old Isaacs vas not got some goot deal prains, eh? You t’ink he vas like an old prass vatch mitoud der verks, eh? Oho! mine yrient, you vis so mucher misdaken as nefer vas. You find dot Isaacs pe a Jew, sure enough, put he peeish no vone’s shackass, you pet te sauerkrout on dot! 1 make “on von Ieedle combliment, Chelton Avenue, v’en I ole you dot you be a fool!’ ““Vhat! you call me a fool!” roared the other, be- coming deeply enraged. ‘* You old blunderbuss, take that!’ and a heavy cane was raised, and a fierce blow leveled at the Jew. . But Isaacs lightly leaped to one side: his chubby fist shot out like a flash of lightning, and struck Chelton between the ayes. SSS. ae 23 Down went the millionaire in a heap, not insensi- ble. but the possessor of a skinned nose and one blackened eye. “Yaw! I took dot, unt I giff him park again, you pet!” laughed Isaacs, good-naturedly. **Ven you vant sum more off der same kind, Mr, Chelton Ay nue, shust come around unt see me; you see m: Rena dot building ofer yonder—unt a ‘Jewsharp am ‘ And away sauntered the Jew with, the utmost sang Froid. It was in the evil, revengeful nature of Chelton to have killed the Jew, but he had another object in view, which would not permit of such a crime. Therefore he got BH from the dusty ground, brush- ed off some of the dirt, and stalked in a very undignified manner toward the door of the United _ States Hotel, which was but a short distance away, followed by the jeers of a curious crowd which had collected. He went straight to. Louie’s room, a very devil — fae in his eyes. She was reclining upon a bed, ut arose quickly as he entered, her face quietly subduing a look of expectancy that had for a mo- ment lingered there. “See See hussy!”” the man cried, advancing until he stood directly before her; ‘‘do you know @what [ have just found out?” “How should I?” she replied, wondering what was coming and trembling in anticipation, for she had grown to fear him, when angered, he was so harsh and cruel—more like some savage wild beast he ~ often condficted himself, than like an intelligent human being. “How should you, indeed? Why, I have found out that you are legally and Jawfully my wife!” Louie started to her feet. , “Why!” she gasped—‘ did you ever think me 7ot your wife?” : “Yes—of course! I supposed that the man who | married us wasasham; but Sam Morgan’s accursed _ interference made a balk, and a true minister was — sent—and you are legally bound to me, where I had eh ce you to be only my tool and victim.” ~ hen God praise Satn Morgan!” the young wife eried with spirit. : “Eh! you think you triumph?” he sneered, “Oh! no; you die; curse you—you die, and by my hands, ~ and may my everlasting curse follow you to the” place you will go to!” : he sprung upon her like an enraged panther, and clutched her by the throat. forcing her heavily back — upon the bed. She tried to scream—to get her breath, but in vain. The wretch’s -fingers were clutched like a vise around her fair throat, and he — threw his whole other into that gripe. - She grew purple in the face, and when five minutes — later he released her she had ceased to breathe: — poor Louie was dead. Eee = Dead—her young life blasted and gone in its ripen- — ing beauty, and murdered by her husband. He stag- — gered back from his work, with a ghastly face and a — shudder of horror, a “This makes three murders!’’ he said, hoarsely—_ “two more, and I am free. Free as I was erel bi ‘an this criminal life—ah! how long ago it seems! — i is better I should be rid of Air / Unow have her ~ property, as I can easily forge her signature—” Af this instant the man Gueleppo burst hastily — into the room, his manner betraying great excite- E ment. ears "We must fly! fly!” he cried. “It is ouronly — hope. Jack Jaunders, the young detective, is now 2 in this very building, ready to arrest us when we come downstairs. He has fift: regulate with him, and we cannot think of fighting. What ails her?” with a side glance toward the bed. “Dead!” was the laconic reply. Ss “Great Heaven! did you murder her too?” “Yes—just to keep my hand in, But, eome; there is not a moment to be lost!” , Vive And neither was there! Poms ox)
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24 CHAPTER XII. BLUDSOR AND MILLY—AND A PURSUIT OF VILLAINS. Buupsor, after leaving Chelton, passed down “through the hotel, taking care to pull his hat over his eves, lest he be recognized, and from the hotel. out into the street. *{ must disguise myself,” he muttered, “for it will not be safe to stalk around asIam, I'll go and get a heavy mustache of old Isaacs, and a Mexican cloak, andthen go and visit Miss Lennox.” Straight toward the pawnbroker’s_ he pushed his way, and soon came face to face with Jack Jaun- ers. “av2 you made any definite time for the caging of our gam>?” the young detective demanded, “No; but I’ve been calling on Chelton, which was all I wished to do before his arrest.” “Then had I not better procure ptover aid, <a nab him, ere he slides off without our knowl- edge?” Go ahead and seize them. I need not necessarily be brought into the examination here.” - *No—you will be wanted when we get back to the States.” Then the two parted, going in separate directions. Bludsoe repaired to the pawnbroker’s, effectually disguise 1 himself, and then hurried to the Centen- nial Hotel for an interview with pretty Milly Len- - nox. Lucky enough was he to encounter her in the hall- way, looking as bright and charming as one’s imagi- nation can picture. She started when she saw a stalwart, black-mustached, ‘brigandish-looking fel- _ low standing before her, but Sam Morgan’s old leasant laugh reassured her, and she rushed into. is open arms. “Sam! Sam! tures of joy. false mustache and great cloak.” 4 “Yes, Milly, dear, it is Sam, for all three years have passed since we last parted. I have had some doubts lest you would not care to see me after knowing my present profession.” “Oh! Sam, in the three long years that have pass- ed I have looked forward to the moment as the happiest in my life when I should meet you again.” and is it a happy moment, dearest?’ and the young road-azent clasped her closer, while he kissed er ripe, sweet lips. ‘Can you and do you love me, road-agent though I am?’ “T love you with allmy heart!” “Ah! then I have won my prize by ta eh? I am to be rewarded in your sweet little self, for my patience?” “Tf you can get prpa’s consent. But Iam afraid he will be very unwiiling after finding you are a roai-agent.”” “Your papa be hanged!’’ Bludsoe exclaimed. S Where is he? I want tointerview him. Come! along we go! And straight into the Lennox suit of rooms march- ed the Phenix, with poor Milly, white with terror. tugging at his coat-tails. The first room entered chanced to be a parlor, and here old Governor Len- nox was seated, by a window overlooking the gulch, with his heels elevated, a cigar in his mouth, and his - eyes scanning the contents of the latest Pioneer. ~ “* Hello!” saluted Bludsoe, Jr., from the center of the room, ‘here Iam, as you see, Bludsoe, Junior, Phenix and road-agent!” Straight to his feet sprung the so-called “ Gover- nor.” _ “Heavens! what does this mean? Mildred, child, explain the presence of this young ruffian!” he 5 Baspe in holy horror. ‘‘Sir-r-r! leave the room stantly or I will give the alarm!” - “Do it at your peril, sir!” was the cool threat. “What do you want here?” the old man demand- ed st4rnly. ms A will, tell you,”’ the Phenix replied. ‘Three years ago, before T was driven into ankruptey on - account of the stringency of my monetary affairs, I Js it really you?” she cried, in rap- “T did not know you at first, in that | Jim Bludsoe, Jr. met this maiden in Philadelphia. We resided. om Alaska street, a very dignified thoroughfare, and in Mother Maginn’s tenement-house, where I occupied the floor—below the roof. Here our acquaint- ance and love germinated, and the seasons since then having been rather retrogressive, it is only now that the germs of the past have become ripened, and suitable for harvest. Therefore, we do come unto you, and ask that you, as a lawful citizen and pro- moter of good, do give your consent that we B ee - lock ourselves together, and express ourselves t- ward ho!” . The “Governor”’ stood listening, in a half bellige- rent attitude, and when Bludsoe finished, he brought his fist down upon the table with a vim that made - things tremble. : “No!” he roared. ‘No! my daughter shall never’ marry a road-thief, while Llive. I’ve roughed it in California, and seen my fill of these road-riders. ee at your audacity, sir. Leave the room, or “When I get ready; so don't run off your groove re Milly, dear, it is evident that your parent has been drinking, or is slightly affected with the jim- jams. I will call again—soon perhaps, and maybe not for five years. So do not despair, but keep up your courage!” He caught herin his arms and kissed her; then turned to her father, who was working himself up into a towering rage, ** Adieu!’ said Bludsoe, with a bow. “You don’t appear to be favorably inclined toward my suit now, but time may change things. Your daughter the pees ears destined shall my wife, sooner or ater.” ‘* Never, sir!’’ “Oh! don't you deceive darling !’’—then the young Phenix had taken parture. That was a momentous question of ‘“ what shail we do?’ to the two villains, as they stood face to ourself. —Good-by, my de- face in the death-chamber, where one victim lay as — silent and cold as marble. ' Below were the detectives, blockading the stair- way, and what other avenue of escape was there? ‘No, not a moment is to be lost,” said Gueleppo. “Come! let’s quit and lock up this room, and go up into the attic. Perhaps we may find a trap cut upon the roof, by which we can escape, and by skipping from roof to roof, we can evade the detectives’ vigi- lance, when you must charter a conveyance to hurry us to the nearest railroad station.” They left the dead woman lying upon the bed— left the room, and secured the door behind them. Then Gueleppo searched around until he found a stairway leading to the attic, into which the two villains ascended. It was a dark, unfinished hole under the roof. with a trap opening out,skyward. This Gueleppo pushed aside, and in another moment they were out upon the roof, which was flat, and higher by several feet than its immediate neighbors, A row of buildings ran in either direction so that it was an easy matter to escape from roof to roof, if mas one took ee ee ueleppo rep) e trap, and dislod, adozen stones from the chingney-top ‘piled ein it. “‘Now, come along, and look out that you don’t ae and pee yor pene said ye poeta down to @ next roof, whic’ een made by a recent shower. $30 ‘j : It proved a precarious undertaking, this leaping from roof to roof, as in some instances the eaves were four feet a part, and it was full an hour after they left the hotel top, that they landed safely upon Mor tmantely Tok ik rr ‘ortunately for them, a livery stable was n and to this they went in’hot haan: ark “T want to be a eRe Cheyenne in the fast- lton said, addressing the est sible time!” stable,bosd. *
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Jim Bludsoe, Jr. “Tl give you five hundred dollars hire for your fastest'rig and driver!” “Phew! guess business must be ruther pressin’, eh?” the ‘‘ boss’ demanded, inquisitively. “No matter. Business is business, you know. Will you take the offer?” **Reckon so. When do you wanter start?” “Instantly—there is not a moment to be lost.” “Allright, Pan out your duracks, and climb inter Come cab, an’ ye'll be goin’ inside o’ five minutes, ound fer election!” Without a word, Chelton counted out the requisite amount from a roll of bills; then he and his villain- ous consort sprung into an old stage, built in the style of our city hacks, with glass windows in the oors, Ten minutes later that same cab was flying down through Deadwood gulch at a tremendous pace, drawn by a plunging snorting quartette of fractious horses, over whose heads the veteran Jehu kept the long lash crashing ia prem And on either door of the cab were tacked hugely lettered banners: “ THROUGH TO CHEYENNE, 307 mies, IN 100 HOURS, BEAT IT Ir you CAN!” At this same moment Jack Jaunders and Jim Bludsoe. Jr., were viewing the body of the murdered Louise Chelton, as she lay upon the bed in the room where she had been left by Chelton, and where the detective had discovered her. ! “She has been choked to death,” Bludsoe said, wiping the moisture from his eyes. *‘ Poor girl! Had she but chosen me instead of bim! But we must not tarry here, Jack. The demons have escaped by some unknown avenue, and may even now be fleeing from town. I will goin pursuit; you remain here and see that poor Louise has a respectable burial. If you want funds, go_to Isaacs. Wor some unac- countable reason, the Jew has opened his coffers to our use.” *‘ Will you take your men along?” “As far as Cheyenne, and then send them back. Have this body interred as soon as possible, and then follow by stage. If the two wretches have fled, it is toward Cheyenne, as that is the safest, even though the longest route.” — Then, after touching his lips to the cold, white forehead of the murdered girl-wife, Bludsoe turned from the room, tears in his eyes. He still wore his Mexican disguise, and had little fear of being recognized. He descended into the street and made his way immediately tothe nearest livery stable which chanced to be the oné where the fugitives had procured their conveyance. “Did two men just get a rig here for age a Bludsoe demanded, ing a roll of bills from his ocket, temptingly, as he stood before the stable- SS, - “You bet!’ was the reply; “paid five hundred dollars, and Joe Finch is goin’ ter put ‘em clean thr’v’ in a hundred hours, an’ take time fer changes, at Camp Crook, Red Canyon, and Raw-Hide, or bu’st the b’iler!”” ‘““All right; wish I’d been here, before he went; there’s a note for your information!” and handing out a bill, Bludsoe hurried away. coat to Isaacs’s shop he went, and found the Jew behind the counter, as usual. “The game has fled !’’ Bludsoe announced, ‘and I want more money to follow. After Chelton gets his neck stretched, you shall have your pay.” “Dat ish all right,unt I shut up mine shop unt come afder you, pime-py!”’ the pawnbroker replied, bag fr a pile of greenbacks on the counter. ludsoe counted out enough for his immediate needs, and shoved the rest back. + What is the secret of your liberality to me?” he. - questioned, ‘‘Shust you nefer vas apoud dose!" Isaacs replied, oRening and sbutting one eye in a significant way. ‘ou not find oud apoud dose Pings until you git ‘| suit of oldt mit dwenty-one years. So go unt chase afder dot Chelton Avenue!’ An hour later Tim Bludsoe, Jr., at the head of thirty mounted and ‘heeled’ road-agents, dashed furiously down through Deadwood, bound in pur- is two mortal enemies, and he waved his hat in farewell parting to Mi ennox, who stood on the steps of the Centennia] Hotel, as he dashed past. A few shots were fired at the daieé-devil cay- alcade, but none took effect. _ < The tugitives had a good two hours the start, and they keptit. When Bludsoe arrived at the junction where the French creek route to Cheyenne branches out from the Red Canyon route, that junction being. at sleepy little Custer City, he learned that the fly- ing. stage had passed by five hours before, and had en the Red Canyon route, in preference to the ~ shorter one by French creek. ; Making a quick exchange of horses, the Phenix and his men took the short route, and pressed on at a break-neck Spee PORRD SRE Lope to reach Cheyenne in advance o lton and his, villainous partner in crime, ’ Remembering the time-tables, the youth knew that an Eastern-bound train would leave Cheyenne, a puneree hours after their departure from Dead- wood. As often as possible they effected a change of horses, and ea on hoping against hope that some accident woyld delay the fugitives. But frantic though were their endeavors, when they had been ninety-nine hours out from Dead- wood, they had twelve long miles to accomplish. ‘adl were the poor animals lashed and spurred, but when they arrived in Cheyenne, at the depot, the train had n gone just ten minutes; and sce- ing the Deadwood driver, Bludsoe and -his men learned that their prey had gone. ee his men good-by, the young Phenix dis- atched them back to the Hills, and-then yreparc da” himself to wait for the next train, which would not depart for two days. CHAPTER XIV. DODGING ABOUT—RIVER PIRACY, In his Walnut street mansion, in Philadelphia, Arnold Chelton sat, with a clouded brow, anda sav- age glitter in his eye. The man was changed—Lis _ brow was growing deeply furrowed, more silver — was gradually threading his hair, and his dress was neglected, and growing rough and shabby. Meee © was restless, and bis eyes glared around wildly, — lest they should behold some accusing phantom—or that phantom of his existence, the Phenix. ' “For he will come!” the villain muttered, hoarse- ly; “‘he will not fail to hound me through to death, — as he has threatened. But,1I will fighthimtothe last. The devil's bound to get me, and what matter — if I commit a few more sins?” OH in “* No matter!” ss Rie a voice, and looking around, the millionaire beheld Gueleppo, the Italian, stand- ing in the room. oe Eo you had sailed for Europe,” Cheiton growled. “Yes, no doubt of it: but I changed my mind. Don’t be sassy, for you'll need me, yet, for I cama to inform you that the enemy had arrived.” _ Is “What! so soon?” the murderer gasped, starting — to his feet. 5 “Yes; came in yesterday, Must’ve took the next train after ours,”” “The Roy Phenix and Jaunders!” “ The millionaire covered his face with his hands and groaned. “‘My God, it seems as if those two were leagued with the devil against me. Surely the devil ouch Bob to turn on me, after all the service I have don m “is majesty fs no respecter of persons, you —
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He’d as soon #ickle his best friend with his horn as not.” “* Where did you see these sleuths?” “On Chestnut street, conversing with a pc man, And as it looked suspicious, I thought it be- know. olice- hooved me to come and take care ofyou. Ihave brought ample disguises!” and here the villain took a bundle of clothing from in un or his arm. “ Our only chance, now, is to hide our identity, and roam about the cify, watching for a chance to escape to unother city.” “T wish we, had stayed in the West!’’ Chelton said, grimly. ~ *Sodo I; but it’s wish in one hand and want in the other. We're safely caged in Philadelphia, for a time at least.” “Why? do yon think all the immediate approach- 9s are guarded?” “Yes; no doubt the police, railway conductors, and detectives are all notified to look out for us. It is not easy for a man of my type to change his appearance, sufficient to deceive metropolitaa eyes! owever, we car dc no better than to try.” So the two villains set to work, at once, for there was no time to be lost. At any moment the Phenix might pounce pon themg, with a p ssv of police, and hurry them to the statigm-house. First, Chelton shaved off his mustache, and donned a full sweeping beard to match his hair, while Gueleppo loft his face shorn of its beard and perfectly smooth, a They then changed their clothing, and donned slouch hats and calico shirts, and they were “ riz- ed” for the danger. Despite his downcast spirits, Chelton had to laug 1, as he viewed h‘mself in a mir- ror. “'Who'd ever supposed Arnold Chelton would sport such an aristocratic reralia as this?’ he laughed in hearty disgust. ‘ Mick-a-Macs ar’ we, begorra, from Galway!” “*Wod-earriers and common laborers, for sure!’’ replied Gueleppo. ‘Come! the sooncr we get out of here the better for our peace of mind.” coag cee te they left the mansion, locking the door behind them, as Chelton had not re-enga ed CH Aa een on his hasty return from the Black The Italian then led the way, and they sauntered down Chestnut street to Fox's theater, where Sid France was playing. Here they went in and spenta couple of hours af the matinee, after which they ~ came out and adjourned to a cheap beer-garden, to avoid creating suspicion, whe e they partook of sandwich, swei'zer cheese, and lager to their fill. While they were sitting in the garden, their atten- tion was attracted to an old man, apparently grow- ing blind, with white hair, and bent form, who en- tered, and groped his way along to a convenient bench not far from where they were seated, “Hello, old man; what’ll you have?’ Gueleppo demanded, inas jolly and social tone as he could command. ‘ You seem to be getting pretty well on toward the grave.” ““Yes—yes!’? the old man replied, in a faint, wheezy tone. “I ain’tso young as I use to was, Bin beer, waiter.”’ Gueleppo to ched Chelton upon the arm, “Come!” he said, and the significance in his voice caused the other to follow him without a word, But when they were upon the street, the millionaire looked inquirinely into his tool’s face. “What was it?” he inquired anxiously. “You saw that old man, eh?’ ~ * Yes, I saw him.” “Well, your eyes ain’t very sharp, That’s no old man at all!” 4“ What?” “No old man at all.”” “The deuce you say.” “Only an ace there—but that ace is liable to turn up tee g we “What do you mean?” € Sint Bindsoenor “Just what Tsay. That fellow was younger than either you orl. Jt was the Phenia |” i Great God, is that true? Then he recognized us. ‘*No, I donot think so, He had hardly time to look us over. I spotted him by his voice and by the fact that I could see where the beard and wig met. If he discovered our identity, we shall soon know it, for he will be sure to follow us, in that case. Come!’ The saloon and garden was near Twenty-fourth and Callowhill streets, and being handy to the en- trance of Fairmount Patk, in under the Spring Garden street bridge, the two men wended their way thitherward, passing through the water-works, and over the promenade to the classic shades 0! the grand old park on Lemon Hill, : The hour was just at the approach of evening; the sun wags setting gloriously in the western sea o: forest that comprises Fairmount’s 2,996 acres, and throwing a grand flood of light upon the Jacid bo- som of the beautiful Schuylkill, with its handsome boat-houses and puffing steamers; on Lemon Hill thousands of peonie were strolling, lounging, riding, ~ or amusing themselves at croquet upon the great evenly mown lawns, over which forest monarchs cast their shadows, and a well-organized band dis- coursing such music as was appropriate to lull and yet charm the senses, and praise God for the.beauty and fascination of the hour. Cheltorn and eee made their way along near to the band stand and found an empty seat, which they took and lit fresh cigars, Ther? were many passing by where he sat, whom the millionaire had three years ago classed et his friends—a very few honest disposed citizens an a great preponderance of rogues and rasca's, ut he dare not speak and betray himself; he was a Lunted outcast upon the face of the earth, While they were lounving in the park, the million- aire purchased a copy of the Le ar of & wandering newsboy, and idly glanced over its advertising col- ums. In a few moments bis face assumed an ashen hue, and a bitter curse escaped his lips. ae “*Seel” he exclaimed, directing the Italian’s at- tention to a. paragraph in tio ‘Personals’ column —“ The Phenix has cerrired—and will push matters Through to Death “ Hal the young devil meant.it should reach you!” the Italian assented. ‘‘ Hs means to push it through to dé&th, ia earnest. Wo must lay another trap for him; but in what shap ? Come! let’s walk toward town, while | agitate the question!” , The old man whom Chelton and his * right-bower ”” had encountered in the beer-garden was indeed Bludsoe, Jr., so cleverly disguised that not one out of ten thousand would have suspected his identity. But he had failed to recognize his enemies, in thig instance, taking them to be a couple of common Ig. borers, at one of the neighboring factories. And therefore he had been less guarded than usual with him, when in disguise. J Shortly af er their departure, he also left the gar- den, and sauntered along down Callowhill street to Tenth, where Ridge avenue intersects—the location of the New National Theater, - He found Jack Jaunders Jounging here, withrather a dubious expression of countenance, * What luck?’ Bludsoe demanded, as he came up. ma “No luck!”, Jaunders replied. ‘The game is : roaming in the city, yet, but so well disguised that it is useless for us to search,” “Oh! no.’ the Phenix said, cheerfully, ‘not use- less. I shall let nothing be useless ti!l I hunt those two men down, and deliver them to justice and death!” : fi About nine o'clock they were at South street wharf, when two men came hastily down the pier, _ and hired a boat of the old man who has skiffs to rent at this place, % f
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Sim Bludsoe, Jr. Springing in, the two men pulled out into the Del- aware “Qhelton and Gueleppo!”? whispered Jack Jaun- ders, quickly. “IT saw those two men in a beer-garden to-day,” replied Bludsoe; ‘tand I don’t believe they’re our game, : “t do, and am going to follow them, you hear me!” Jaunders tossed the old man the renting price of a boat, and, leaping into a trim little skiff, seized the oars “Hold on, I’ll go along if there is any promise of an adventure,’ Bludsoe said, stepping into the craft. “Now, go ahead with your ark.’ 4 Jaunders pulled quickly oub upon the restless bosom of the Delaware, in the direction the two men had taken. The night was inky black, and a misty fog envel- oped the river. Overhead, the clouds were gathered in great banks and the sullen rumble along the heavens predicted a dthunder-storm, Fifty yards from shore, and the jy of the city had faded from view, fn the dense Og. “You won't find your game, after all!’ Bludsoe declared, leaning back in the stern of the skiff, and lighting a cigar. But Jaunders quickly knocked it from his mouth into the river. 2 “No smoking in this boat!’’ he said, in a low tone. “ These devils may be only a few yards cistant, and the glowing end of your cigar would make a capital target for a revolver-shot. Keep quiet now, an we'll listen a bit.”” Saying which, the young detective raised the oars in the row-locks, and they both listened carefully. But no sound was audible, except the lapping of the waves against the sides of their skiff. strange si- «lence was brooding over land and water, preceding the outburst of the coming storm; there was scarce- ‘ly a breath of air stirring, even upon the water; an occasional faint twinge of lightning shot zig-zag athwatt the black sky. “There, Itold you that they were not our game; and you’ve come on a fool’s errand!” laughed Jim Bludsoe, Jr., coolly. “Keep quiet. Nothing has gone to prove to the contrary of what I said!” replied Jaunders, pulling carefully on over the river. “Tn my opinion those two men, who were none other than Chelton and his bulldog in disguise, saw ‘us standing upon the wharf, and thinking to decoy us out upon the river, or to test us and see if we suspicioned them, did as we have seen,” pee aybe you're right,” Bludsoe replied, thought- fully; ‘but in case you are, what’s the use of our paddling about heré on a ‘wild-goose chase, and stand a chance of getting salivated, as they say out in the Black Hills?” “ Because we must not let them escape our sur- veillance this tims, or we may not be so fortunate in penetrating their disguise another. When you have a point, always play it and trust to luck.” So the young detective pulled on perseveringly. Tt was perseverance and indomitable pluck that had been the means of getting him in favor with the de- tective-police and securing him a situation upon the force, where he was now recognized as a valuable member. ; Seegee on pulled he, with strong but cautious strokes, his eyes peering ahead into the fog as sharply as the night-seeing orbs of the owl, And Bludsoe, Jr., was now upon the alert also, He kept his eyes roving on either side and behind, and a couple of revolvers, which had done road- agent service in the Black Hills, he held in readiness _ for emergency. : ; ‘ Sh!" he suddenly whispered: ‘‘listen—quick!’ Jack ceased rowing, and both listened intently. ‘rom over the waters, ahead of them, came the. sounds of angry voices and angry words: as Put down that revolver, you old lunatic, or a7 “You pe shoost easy!” came back, in strong Ger man accent; ‘‘shoost so much as raish eéin finger, unt I make eee sausage out off you. You foller me, unt t’inks I ish von shackass unt a cowyard, put, by Shiminny gracious, I dinks I got more revo}. yer ash you haff!” ““Thunderation !’ Jaunders ejaculated; “I cannot. be mistaken, surely... That is the voice of old Isaacs, the Jew, whom we Jeft in Deadwood.” “That's who it is!” Bludsoe, Jr., replied, with enr thusiasm. ‘‘ Pull ahead, and we'll take a little han? in this game.” And Jaunders did pull, with a wil, CHAPTER XV. THAT LITTLE DEMIJOHN OF' BRANDY. Jaunvers, being an expert oarsman, sent the skin gliding over the water, with great rapidity, Bludsoe sat in the prow, with his revolvers ready for instant use, for well was he aware of the nature of these two men, ahead of him. Soon the skiff glided into a space in the fog, where two other boats were rocking, one of which con- tained the two disguised partners-in-crime, Gueleppo and Chelton, while in the other sat the old German- Jew pawnbroker, Isaac Isaacs. There was a broad grin pee his fat, shining countenance. and in his clutch he held two formidable cavalry pistols, which were leveled at the men in the other boat. They also each held a revolver. aimed at Isaacs, so that the situation was pretty well evened. “You t’ink I vas a pig cowyard?” roared Isaacs in high dudgeon. ‘Vy, py Solomon, I scoop ther hul} top off your head off, vor swi lager. You peeish & couble 0’ swine. you pe, vat squeal ven your swill ish gone. Aha! von’tI manufacgure limburger cheese out off you, dough? Don’t you vish you no follow der Jewsharp?” “Hello!” here interposed Bludsoe. Jr., as his boat glided alongside; “what kind of a Dutch pick-a-nick a’ye cal) this? Ha! Isaacs, is that you?’ “Yaw! yaw! dish pe der Russian army, unt dose pe der turkey-gobblers,” grinned the Jew, with u chuckle. “TI coome out in mine poat ter go ofer mit Camden. unt dose loafers do coome after me, unt dey t’ink ash how dey murder me, unt dey find der old Sweitzer-case wasn’t so moocher asleep, as dey subbosed,” “Ha! hat good enough. 1 suppose you know who the worthy ee are, don’t you? “Yaw! twig ’em, ash der poys say. Dat is Chelton Avenue, unt dose oder shap he pe Chelton Avenue’s pull-dog.” = “Correct are you, and, gentlemen, it becomes our duty te arrest om for willful murder!” Bludsoe cried, covering the two with his revolvers. “ Jaun- ders, will you be kind enough to step over into their boat, and clap the handcuffs on their wrists?” “Curst you!” growled Chelton, trying to turn his aim upon the young Phenix; but Isaacs warned him of the danger of such an action, by full-cocking one of his pistols, and shoving it forward, with one of his: strange chuckles. “No you don’t vas, Chelton Avenue!’ he said Re not vile der old Jewsharp knows his sauer> eraut!? ‘‘May’s well become quietus, Cap!’’ the Italian de clared, seeing how the case stood. “Ther jig’s “Yes, the jig’s un, and the scaffold soon will be, for your reception!” announced Bludsoe, coolly. “So you had better give up peaceably, as we've got more lead-and-powder ballast than you have!” Jaunders shipped the oars, drew a couple of pairs of bandeuffs from his pocket, and Se die toward the other boat—nor into it, for the Italiaa gave ita violent shove away, and down into the river the young detective went. But he clutched quickly at the side of the enemy’s boat, and sueceeded in getting a hold, but sc great was the velocity of his fall, that he pulled the frail craft over and completely capsized it,
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_ for it was November, -the old 28 Bad was this, for neither Bludsoe, Jr., nor the Jew could get a shot at the vulains, ére they disappeared from view in the river. And the blackness of the night made it impossible to sight them when ee came up to the surface, if they did come up, which was not very probable. ost likely they swam in under water until at a safe distance, and ten made for the shore. Any- how, the three friends saw nothing more of them that night. Jatinders came to the surface, and was pulled into the boat, after which Bludsoe discovered that old et was pulling sturdily away toward the Jersey shore. He did not hail him, but took the oars, and pull- ed with all his might and main for Pine street wharf. : ’ » Jaunders was rather ‘down in the mouth” over the results of his blundering misstep, and said little or nothing during the passage to shore, As soon as they reached the pier, Blidsoe sprung out, and signaled to a policeman. ; “Tf you see two wet men coms out of the river,’’ he said, ‘‘arrest them, for they are murderers,” Then, without further explanation, he hurried away to give the alarm to other guards beyon1 the water line. But his labors were in vain, for no men were seen, nor arrests made; and it looked probable that the two villains had swum a long ways above, before landing, in order to avoid arrest. Three days passed, and the Phenix and Jack Jaunders were on the alert, but failed to discover any clew of their game. . he two had taken up their quarters in Mother Maginn’s tenement on Alaska street, occupying the same room Sam Morgan had occupied previous to the yacht explosion, thres years before. Here they were lounging one day, smoking their pipes and listening to the wild rain outside, which was warm but still autumnal, A late autumn, too, with nights and days not un- like August. , “Did you see anything of eee flame before you came from Deadwood?” Bludsoe asked, his thoughts going back to Milly Lennox, and to the fact that she was very dear to him, _ Yes; her father and herself were pullin’ for Hay- ward City when I left, and tuk their baggage. Guess ent calculated it wasn’t safe to stay in Dead- wood with the gal while you were around,” * Perhaps so. But I'll have her yet, or bu’st some- thing, after I get through here.” “Then you will go back, eh?” “Yes: Llike it ten per cent. betterin the West than here. There is a wild, strange romance about life there that we do not have here in the city.” “Too much, sometimes, when you get scalped by the Indians or knocked over by a bloody road-agent —like Bludsoe, Jr., for instance.” “Pshaw! road-agents ain’t such a bad set of fel- lows; only the people fail to properly appreciate trem, I reckon.” At this instant there was a knock at the door of thir room. Jaunders rose with a lazy yawn and opened the door, to find a boy standing outside, with a small- sized demijohn in his hand. “Well, sonny, what is it?” the detective demanded in some curiosity. ‘* What do you want?” “Does Mr, Jim Bludsoe live here?” the boy asked. **Reckon he does. agp Gt bs fs “Then here's a flask of brandy for him, sir,’’ and tha boy deposited the demijohn upon the floor, “Brandy! Hey, Jim, here’s a present for you— half a gallon of Hungarian brandy!” shouted Jack. ‘The Boy Phenix came forward, and gazed at the opr Sia in wt ree i : ia Vhat does this mean? Who gave you this, “Isaac Isaacs, sirl™ ; S im Bludsoe, Jr. ~ —— “Eh? the old Jew?” _ “Yes, sir, w’at used to keep the pawn-shop down South street.’ ‘“‘Humph! wonder what ever possessed the old eke to send this here? Who’d he say it was to, “To Mr. Jim Bludsoe.”’ - “Well, then, I'll keep it. Hungarian brandy; that’s the prime stuff, ’ll bet. These German Jews eee 8 rink it, I remember, Hey. boy, hold up;”* or the lad was about to depart. ‘ What sort ofa man was.this Isaacs?” ae fat man, sir, with shiny face, and a big corpo- rosity.” “Tsaacs it was, then. Guess it’s all right, so you can go.”” a The boy tramped away, and Bludsoe and Jack re- turned to their room, “An od old quill is that Isaacs,” the Phenix com- mented, setting the demijohn upon the stand, © Somehow, I can’t understand his liberality toward me of late, He is in possession of some secret, con- cerning me, but-I’m blowed if I can guess its na- ture.’ ‘ ‘Oh! he’s an old rooster,’’ Jaunders assured, grimly. ‘‘ Find a Jew, will-you, that is liberal, when’ it’s out of his own pocket? Did he and your uncle have any acquaintance?” “Conundrum. Guess not; atleast: I never knew anythi about it.” * Didn’t know Hungarian brandy was liable to eva- porate into the cork, if 1-ft standing long ia a close room, neither, did you?” “Oh! Iseo what you are after. You want to get your lips glued onto the mouth of that Jonathan, att eke old covey?” “ Well, I confess that I have a desire to sample the stuff, My torpid liver demands a certain amount of spiritual comfort, or 1should not live-r day cut,” “Oh! too thin; but, since old Isaacs has been so generous in his donation, I don’t suppose it would do any harm to take a swallow, though Iam no ad- vocate of strong drink.” Accordingly the demijohn was uncorked, and a couple of glasses of the eet poured out. it was clear, pure and fragrant, and showed that the Jews have a good choice in the selection of what they drink. Rarely do they use the poisonous decoc- tions which so many of the Americans imbibe. . Bludsoe raised his glass to his lips; then suddenly set it back upon the table, again. ML “Don’t!” he said, to Jaunders, who was about te taste of his; ‘‘ put it down! “Why? demanded the detective, in surprise. “What's up?”” ‘*Nothing much, maybe, only don’t taste of that brandy. I believe, by my soul, itis poisoned /” *“ Poisoned?” Jaunders lot the glass drop out of his oe to the floor. ‘*What makes you imagine 49? 5 1 “Teannot tell you. Some horrible glimpse of the death contained in that liquor, flashed before my eyes, as J had the glass raised to my lips!” the Phe- nix replied, with a slight shudder. ‘* And you believe it’s poisoned?” *T do, sincerely,”” “But what motive could Isaacs possibly have? f cannot understand,” “Tf the liquor is poone: Isaacs never sent it. The Jew is our friend, instead of ourenemy.” - “Shust pet your sauer-krout on dose!” cried a hearty voic2, and into the room walked the oid pawnbroker, as big as life, and twice as natural. “ How you vas, poys? Didn’t exp°ct a tune from olt Jewsharp, apoud dish time, eh? No, I guess nixy. Dunder, vat ish der matter?” : “Very much obliged to you for sending us this brandy, Isaacs!’ said Bludsoe, grimly. “Rather you'd left out the poison, though!’ Eh? vas? vat you ie Pacts the Jew, ia — Ly evident astonishment, ‘Vat 4 =, f le off a game you givin’ me?” E: : ot he
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Jim Bludsoe, Jr, Bludsoe explained in a few words what is already known to the readers, “Unt you dink ash vat I sent der prandy, den?” he said thoughtfully. ‘* Vell, you make as pig a mis- dake as Jake Schneider did, ven he for der virst time eat some Jimburger cheese, d’inking ash it vas gponge cake. Oh! no; Isaacs no send dot prandy, pet AE sweltzer case on dose!”’ * “Then it came from Arnold Chelton!”’ Bludsoe decided, a terrible glitter in his eyes. ‘‘ He has res the last card in his hand—and lost! Now hen, we will push this thing through without delay. [ think we can trace the tiger to his lair. “It first remains, however, to prove this brand, poisoned. There is a chemist around the block. will take a little of the brandy to him, in a glass, and let him analyze it. That will settle it.’’ And accordingly he did so, taking about a table- spoonful of the liquor, and departing,- informing Isaacs and Jack to await his return, The chemist received the liquor, with an inquir- ing glance, ‘l want you to examine that and see if it con- tains poison,”” Bludsoe said, * And be quick about it, too, The chemist disappeared behind the partition, and five minutes later came forth. “Tcannot make a perfect analysis immediately, so that you will know the nature of the poison, as it is a foreign compound we do not often find. But, it’s enough to say, at present, that one swallow o: that brandy would produce almost instant death.” “Very well; that is all I wish to know at present,” and paying the fee, the Phenix returned to his room in the tenement. “Tt was ag I suspected,’ he, said, “and Chelton’s villainy has failed for the third time, A swallow of that stuff will kill a mam,” Seiziug the demijohn he dashed it into bits upon ibe noe the liquor spreading out like rivers through jhe dust. “Now come, both of you, and we will hunt up the ooy that brought it, and he can no doubt tell us where to find the game. IT think the lad hangs out in Callowhill, or some court neat, at Twenty-second street.” CHAPTER XVI. THE JEW’S SECRET—CONCLUSION. Arter some further arrangements the trio left Bludsoe’s old tenement quarters, and took the cars ‘north to Callowbill street, and then west to the Spring Garden street bridge, on the eastern side of whichis ‘the. popular entrance to Fairmount Park, Here they left old Isaaes teas upon a seat, while we skirmished about the neighborhood for the yout who had brought the poisoned liquor. Bludsoe had no doubt but that he could find the youth, remembering that he had lived in this vicin- ity three years before. He had once thrashed this same boy for maltreating a little girl; it was this : mice that caused him to remember the youth so ong. Jaunders went in one direction and the Phenix in another, and after half an hour they ran down their ume, in a little by-street or alley. The boy started 2:01 flushed red and white by turns, when he saw the two young men. Knowing he was guilty, no doubt, he trembled at thought of the consequences. He stopp*d still, however, at a signal from Jack Vaunders, for with one of the young men coming at him ie Buser direction, there was no avenue of es- nape left. * Well?” Jaunders demanded, interrogatively, as he laid his hand heavily upon the youth’s shoulder, oP et you to say for yourseif, you young vasea! : - “TI don’t know—l—I—didn't—I—!" he faltered, very much frightened, for he had just caught a limpse of Jack’s professional badge. ‘‘I—I—” “Hush! if you attract a crowd, it will go hard £9 with you, young man, and to my questions I want straightforward, truthful answers. Who gave you that demijohn of drugged brandy?” "Isaacs, sir—the Jew that used to keep’a pawm shop!" declared the boy, “What is your name, then?” ‘* James Garlon, sir.” ‘Well, James Garlon, Twant you to understand that it won’t pay you to lie to us. [am on the force, and unless you make a elean breast of it, I'll jerk you off to the station-house quicker’n you ever went anywheres. Isaacs did not send the liquor, for we have seen him concerning the matter; now, who did? Who yut pee up with the lies?” James Garlon began to snivel, “I don’t know—” he began. but Jaunders checked the falsehood midway in its delivery, by shaking the author of it. “Stop! no more of re shall tell us, or we w. Spit it out!” “*T don’t know,” still protested the boy. “Do you know what ailed the liquor, then?” ‘No, sir.” “Well, it was poisoned. Hed we drank of it, we should have died in horrible agony. Now, we want to find this would-be assassin who sent the stuff, and if you don’t give us our points, we shall arrest you as being an accessory to the attempted murécer, You are in for State Prison sure, unless you can put the responsibility on others.’” The boy now began to ery. “T didn’t know it was poisoned, sir, indeed I didn’t. Oh! don’t arrést me, sir.” “Then tell us who sent you!” “*T will, I will, It was an Italian named Guiseppe Gueleppo, sir. I often run errandsfor him. Hr em up from bt. Mary’s street, an’ give me a doilar to carry the brandy to Mr. Bludsoe; but didn’t know it was poisoned.” Z “No, probably not,” Jack said, turning to Bludsoe, Jr, ‘‘ What do you think of it, Jim?” ‘* Just what I thought from the first—Chelton is at the bottom of it!” the Phenix replied. “And he is with Gueleppo,in St. Mary’s street, you think?” “Doubtless. The two villains will cling together to the end. Chelton depends considerably upon the sagacity of the Italian man-butcher, while the latter looks t» Chelton for his cash with which to procure liquid-fire. We are upon their trail, at Jast, I guess,” ‘Yes, Ican easily nose them out, now, with this lad’s aid, Was any one with Gueleppo when he gave you the liquor, James?” : ‘No, sir, he was alone.” “ Did he tell you to say that Isaacs sent it, too?” ** Yes, sir, he did.” “All right. Now, we want you to show us whefe- abouts in St. Mary’s street this Italian lives, and then we are through with you. Pard, you wait, here, and ase your eye on this lad, while 1 run back to the Park and fetch Isaacs. We had best all be in at the death together,” . : Saying which, the young detective was off like a deer upon bis errand. } ‘ He soon returned, with the fat Jew, and then the pone party set out in the direction of St. Mary’s street. On the way, Jaunders picked up a couple of police ur lying. Youdo know, and put you to work in Moya, | officers, with whom he was intimate, not knowin; but their aid might become necessary, ere the tw tigers could be ousted from their den, Into St. Mury’s street the little band marched, like an invading army, and they were regarded with much curiosity by the filthy-clad, evil-disposed in- habitants of this notorious precinct. ; James, Garlon, wishing to extricate himself froin - blame, did the right thing, and soon pointed out tke habitation of the Italian rufflan, GQueleppo. It wes in one of the lower apartments of a grimy brick ten- ement; the blinds were closed, and the door securely — fastened upon the inside, ~ rr e 4 74
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Sy 30 Of course there wag no response to Jaunders’s rap. Te had not expected one. “You will have to pry open either the door or shutters!’’ he said, turning to one of he police.’ “If the devils are inside they intend to keep us out as long as possible !"’ The officers accordingly procured axes from a neighboring shop, and attacked the door, determin- e 1a Soon the panels yielded, and went in with a erash. An aperture was then made sufficiently large to admit a man’s body, and all of the party entered the den, except Isaacs, who had to wait until Blud- s0e unfastened the door, as his proportions were too large to permit of his entering through the panel opening, ’ ae a strange and startling tableau was pre- sented. Stretched out at full length upon the floor, were the forms of two men, who were recognizable as the Italian, and his abettor, Arnold Chelton. Ex: amination proved that both were quite dead; ani they were also terribly bloated and distorted in countenance. . A demijohn upon a table close at hand revealed the cause of their death. It contained poisoned brandy, exactly the same as that which had been sent Bludsoe! “They have grown tired of the hunted life, and taken the law into their own hands!” the Boy Pheo- nix said, sadly, as he gazed upon the two corses, # By God forgive them and me!” “ Good riddance mit pad rubbish! Petter ash dey had gone deadt mit deirselves, years ago. Dey vas von pig nuisance on der face of der earth, I dells ou!” Isaacs said, rubbing his glossy chin, in a sat- isfled manner. ‘*Und, Samuel, my poy, vile I vas ppoking mit you, Idells you sum t’ings vat you don’t now. “Your uncle, Shacob Morgan, made swi wills— one in der forenoon off der 15th of May, unt one in der afdernoon off der same day, Ter first one lef’ old der broberty mit Chelton Avenue, an’ was locked up mit der safe; der last one lef* it all mit you, so helb me gracious. Dis last vill der old man, who vas a vriend mit me, blaced in my care, along mit ea t/ousand dollars in cash, vich I vos to er ond eo got old mit twenty-one years. Yo see as! how Shacob vasn’t afraid der trust der old Jews- harp, because ash vot he knew Isaacs vas an honest man. “Vell, he vanted Chelton Avenue ter have der broberty ondil you vos twenty-one; den if Chelton Avenue proved ter be a square sort off a veller, I vash ter Fest you der dirty t’ousand, unt destroy der vill I held, vich sdill left all der broberty ter Chelton. But, if der Chelton Avenue turned out ter pe a pad ease off limberger cheese, I vas ter broduce der vill, uat der vitnesses, unt put you in Chelton Avenue’s place. DisI should haff done; put now der veller vas deadt, unt dere vas no use ter keep der secret any longer. : 4 “And a right good friend you have been to me, in my chec;cered experience, Isaacs!’’ Bludsoe said grasping the Jew’s hand, warmly, “and I shall not soon forg t your kindness. My career for three ears back has been rather a questionable one, and ew shone you are, you have indeed proven your- solt ay Eoueet pee and eG of y pends can I respect greater than you. You shall not go unre- Seated.’ / “*Eh? vas yousay? Reward me? Oh! not mooch, poy! 3 you shust want ter insult Isaacs, visper ‘someti) ie apoud reward, again, unt see in vat beautiful sdyle dis Jewsharp vil climb’ you! Oh! shiminny gracious, I put a halcony offer mit your eye, like a goose-egg. I vant noreward—I dake no reward, Mes t your sauer-kraut on dose, unt Shake Morgan ‘vas vriends, unt dot vas enough!” G3 Wall, alt right; we won’t quarref over it!” Blud- S00 rep : ‘ ‘ fant t SAE Jim Bludsoe, Jr. nae <a The bodies of the two suicides were viewed by the coroner, and a verdict rendered; then the new heir saw that both had a respectable interment, Without the delay of a day, Bludsoe, Jr., or Sam Morgan, had the last will and testament of Jacob Mo gan deposited with the Registrar, and testified to. He then left his affairs in the care and trust of a safe legal firm for settlement. after which he prepared to return westward. He was now rich a life possessed to him a charm it never had ore. Before he left the East however, he made both Isaacs and Jack Januders each a handsome present, and finally persuaded both to accompany him back to the Black Hills. ray did not go to Deadwood, but to another lively little mining strike in the Golden Hills, where Bludsoe learned that the Lennoxes had gone. : The town was full of strangers, and Bludsoe wat. not recognized among them as the daring road-agent » who had ina short time become so notorious ir Deadwood circles. Indeed ‘the youth now bitterly repented the rashness of his resolve and success ir becoming an outlaw. He saw things in a new and proper light and resolved never again to ta the name he bore! It had put a blot upon that name, and he knew he could not easily win prett; Milly, or her father’s consent to their union, while he was thus cast in under a cloud. But he resolved to persevere in his suit, for he _ felt that in Milly he had found the one girl-woman, who could be aught to him. He found that the Lennoxes were boarding’at the only hotel in the place, and Buenas he yearned to see Milly and press his suit, he felt that it would not~ be advisible to rush matters. Time works wonders; the ex/Phenix hoped sincerely that the old saying would apply, to his caso. One day, lacking amusement, he shouldered his rifle and set off into the monntains,in quest of game. ‘ Practice had made him a good shot. either with rifle. or revolver, and therefore it was not long before he ae taken all the game he cared to carry back to own. He was descending the mountain-side, on his return, when his attention was attracted by the cries of # man, who was backed against a cliff, several hun- dred yards below, and was defending himself with clubbed gun against the attack of a savage she-cin- namon bear, one of whose cubs the venturesome indi- vidual was evidently trying to carry off. | At a glance Bludsoe saw that the man was in im- minent danger of losing his life, as he could not long fight the brawny brute, who was enraged and eager to crush its puny enemy, ‘ And the young man also made another discovery. The endangered hunter was Mr. Lennox, the father of Milly, the old gent also having come out upon the mountain for a little sport. But he had got more than he bargained for. Leaping down the mountain-side with the agility of a goat, Bludsoe some pached a@ position from whence he could fire at tH@ bear. Then up came his: rifle, there was a sharp report, and down went tha eco shaggy bru‘e, pierced through the brain bya ~ ny t ‘et in the left eye. Quite dead was the bear when Bludsoe reached the cliff, where Lennox was BNE staring alter- nately at his deliverer and the animal. “Hal? was his exclamation, as the young man came closer. ‘The road—” “Once Jim Bludsoe, Jr.—now and forever hereaf- — ter Sam Morgan, an honorable man!’ was the re- ply. % And you shot the bear?” the m._er-speculator asked, incredulously. “Tdid, withou* the least doubt, sir.” “T fired at the brute six times, and scar made him wince, young man, It is strange, uUaen, that you could kill hina at one shot.” ¥ * Not str either. sir, for I put the bulletigthe — right place, ‘Ffow is Miss Milly, Bir, may ake é
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Jim Bludsoe, Jr. : i “Quite well, and enjoying this western life im- tmensely. Young man, I hear through your friend aunders, the detective; that you have left your wild life as a road-agent, and are living a creditable life. Also, that your financial condition has been greatly bettered, since we last met. Is this true?’ “T believe such is the case,”’ the Phenix replied. ‘Tam, as I said, Sam Morgan. of Philadelphia, ready for any good work and honorable tife.” “Well, then. I withdraw my objections to your suit for my daughter’s hand, and so go in and win if youcan. Also, allow me to thank you for rescu- ing me from the bear.”” And exten his hand, he shook that of Sam warmly. And Jim Bludsoe, Jr., paid his lady-love a visit, which was mutually pleasant, and when the Boy Phenix next met J. Jaunders, he gave him a broth- erly hug for ‘breaking the path for him.” Other- wise, it might have been months before the two ley- ing hearts would have come together. And there was a wedding, soon. Isaacs was pre- sent, and so was Jack, and naturally there was ‘‘a time.” ‘The people of Deadwood often wondered at the sudden disappearance of Jim Bludsoe, Jr., but not one of the s! srveeucyes among them ever surmised that handsome and free-hearted Sam Morgan had ever borne the dreaded name. Sam now is a thriv- ing banker in a young mining metropolis, with his father-in-law as partner and manager, and a fine firin they make—while yg is quite the queen of the city, beautiful, good and wise, ¢ THE END. ~ Beadle’s Weekly. The Best Weekly of Popular, Entertain= ing and Useful Literature Pub- lished in America! Tts Unrivaled Corps of Contributors, almost all of whom write erclusiney for its publishers—embraces wh 2 following authors of world wide repute— Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, Albert W. Aiken, Wapt. Fred. Whittaker, Capt. Mark Wilton, Joseph ¥. Badger, Jr.. Edward L. Wheeier, Charles Morris, QN Coomes, C. Dunning Clark, Buffalo Bill, White Beaver, Buckskin Sam, Major Dangerfield Burr, 1. C. Harbaugh, Philip S. Warne, Williain R. Eyster, Anthony P. Morris, Launce Poyntz. Fach and all of whom give to BmaApLE’s WEEKLY their very best productions in all the varied fields of Border and Wild West R»mance— Adventure Exploration and Sport— City Life Character, Courts and Ways— Detective and ‘Shadow’ Revelations— Stories of the Great Deep, etc., etc. _ So that each and every number is overflowing with reading of the most interesting and exciting nature; while in tts Special Departments, covering all the needs, and adding to the general interest and usefulness of the popular journal, Beapin’s Weexty is tre paper of all others for your weekly reading and entertainment. f Beadle’s Weckly ts Published at the Following Rates: Yor Four Months... ......s0-ssseeeeseseeeees A -.$,00 Or One VEAL. ooo icae” sises wees wees esns ae 38,90 Two Copies for One Year. .....66- ene eeee cones 5.00 Singie Copies...... ie aaa ioly ead OS CORES Supplied by all Newsdealers. om BEADLE AND etree PUBLISHERS, eo cS liam street, New York. ys Pere aT ey ee & Half-Dime Singer's Library 1 Wnoa, Estma! and 59 other Songs, 2 Qaprain Curr ang 57 other Songs. 3 Tue Garnszoro’ Har and 62 other Songs. 4 Jonnny Moreéan and 60 other Songs, 5 [iu Strike You Wirr A FratHer and 62 others. 6 GEORGE THE CHARMER and 56 other Songs. 7 Tae Bette or Rockaway and 52 other Songs, 8 Youne FeLtan, You’rRE Too Fresm and tu Uthers 9 Say Youne Grr and 65 other Songs, 10 I’m THE GovERNOR’s ONLY Son and 58 other Songs 11 My Fan and 65 other Songs. : 12 Comim’ THRO’ TUR Ry and 55 other Songs. 13 Toe RotiicKina TrishMAN and 59 other Songs, 14 Op Doe Tray and 62 other Songs. 15 Wxoa, CHARLIE and 59 other Songs. 16 In THIs WHEAT By anp By and 62 other Songs, 17 Nancy Lee and 58 other Songs. 18 I’m THE Boy THAT’s Bound To BLAZE and 57 others, 19 Toe Two Orfnans and 59 other Songs. 20 WHAT ARE THE WiLp Waves Sayine, Sistert and 59 other Songs. 21 InpicNantT Potty Woe and 59 other Songs. 22 ‘rae Otp ARM-CHarr and 58 other Songs. 23 On Conry Istanp Bracu and 58 other Songs, 24.O0Lp Smmon, THE Hor-Corn Man and 60 others, 25 I’m 1. Love and 56 other Songs. 26 PARADE OF THE GusRDS and 56 other Songs. 27 Yo, Have, Ho! and 60 other Songs. 28 "TwiLL Never po To Giz 1T up So and 60 others. 29 Brur Boxnets Over THE Borper and 54 others, 30 Tur Merry LAvanine Man and 56 other Songs, 31 Swerr Foraxt-mE-Nor and 55 other Songs. 32 Lerrie Basy Mine and 53 other Songs. $8 Dm BAnso AM DE INSTRUMENT FoR Mrand 58 others, 34 Tarry and 50 other Songs. 35 Just To PLEASE THE Boys and 52 other Songs. 36. SKATING ON ONE IN THE GUTTER and 52 others, 37 Kotorep Kranxs and 59 other Songs. 38 Nuz Despexanpum and 53 other Songs. 89 Tue Girt I Lerr Beninp Mz and 50 other Songs 40 "Tis pur A Lirrie Fapep Friowrr and 50 others 41 Prevry WHILHELMINA and 60 other Songs. 42 DaNcING IN THE Barn and 63 other Songs. 43 H. M.S. Prnaror®, COMPLETE, and 17 other Songs. Sold everywhere by Newsdealers, at five cents per copy, or sent post-paid, to any address, on re+ = ceipt of Sim cents per number. BEADLE AND ADAMS, PusiisHers, 98 Wiiu1am Street, New Yorg, — ~The Dime Dialogues No. 31. Containing twenty Minor Dramas, Extravaganzas Burlesques, Farces, Dress and Humorovs Pieces, for the Amateur Stage, Parlors, Schools and Exhibitions, All original and by favorite authors, professors. teachers and amateurs. : For sale by all newsdeaiers, or sent, post-paid, cn receipt of price—ten cents, ‘ BEADLE. AND ADAMS, Puntassers, 98 William Street, New ¥ uta is ¥ F: ts ¥, te :
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BEST AUTHORS. A CHOICE COLLECTION OF Beautiful Compositions Carefully Compiled for SCHOOL, LYCEUM, PARLOR, AND OTHER ENTERTAINMENTS, — BY ——— FRANCES P. SULLIVAN. | ; issued Quarterly, June, 1886. Subscription, 50 Cents per Year. es M. J. IVERS: & CO,, PUBLISHERS, 9S s6 NASSAU STREET, NL. : is ‘ * ‘ eS = Entered at the Post Office, Y. N., as second class matter, ; Tae * = ~~ o
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\ Swart Toasts RoR THE Smart Sar, , Vest Pocket Size. “64 Pages. Sewed Book By Mail, Postpaid, I2c. per Copy. _ BEST LINE OF HAND BOOKS PUBLISHED. Up-to-Date, ' 26 Snow-Shoe Tom. 88 The Boy Crusader. “YIDDISH” YARNS.—A Collection of Hebrew Jokes, Stories, ete. GENTS’ LETTER WRITER.—A Perfect Guide to all kinds of Correspondence. FAMILY PHYSICIAN.—Family Diseases and Their ‘Treatment; Rules of Health, ete. BOOK OF DREAMS —Their Romance and Mystery, with a Complete Interpretation Dictionary. HOUSEWIFE’S MANUAL.—How to Keep House; How to Dye, Cleanse, etc. VAUDEVILLE JOKER.—Best Jokes by Eminent Vau- deville Artists. BOOK OF ETIQUETTE.—Society, Visits, Introduc- tions, Dress, Balls, ete. FORTUNE TELLER.—Fortune Telling by Cards, Tea or Coffee Grounds, Eggs; Palmistry, etc. BOOK OF 100 GAMES.—One Hundred Games for Social Parties and Home Amusements. COOK BOOK.—Economical, Practical, Excellent. LADIES’ LETTER WRITER.—How to Write; When to Write; What to Write. RECIPE BOOK.—For the Parlor, Nursery, Sick-room, Toiiet, Kitchen, Larder, ete. BOOK OF BEAUTY.—Beauty of Form, Color, Head, Hair, Complexion, Skin, etc., with chapters on Perfumes, Cosmeties, ete. BOOK OF VERSES.—Comprising Rhymes, Lines, and Mottoes for Lovers and Friends. THE LOVERS’ CASKET.—A Treatise on and Guide to Friendship, Love, Courtship, and Marriage. “GERMAN ” JOKER.—“ Dutch” Jokes and “ Gags” by best ‘“‘ Dutch” 'l'eams on the Stage. “HAYSEED” JOKER.—The Doings of ‘Our Country Cousins’ in a Humorous Way. “TRAMP” JORER.—Good “Handouts” in this Book for Professional and Amateur Entertainers. : “COON” YARNS.—Best Jokes Relating to Our “ Dark- er-Skinned Brothers.” &, “TRISH” Joker No. 1.—The Wittiness and Whimsicali- ties of ** Pat’ at His Best. “VARIETY * JOKER.—Good Things from all the Na- tionalities: ** Pat,’ “*Alphonse,” ‘* Hans,” ‘* Jona- than,” “‘ Moses,”’ and * Ebenezer,”’ The above books are bound in handsomely illustrated lithographed covers. Price by mail, postpaid, 12 cents per copy. M. J. IVERS & CO., Publishers, 379 Pearl Street, New York City. BEADLE’S BOYS’ LIBRARY. PRICE 5 CENTS PER COPY. 1 Dandy Bill's Doom. By Oll Coomes. By A. W. Aiken, 4 Lillie, the Reckless Rider. By Stoddard. 5 Old Grizzly in the Rockies. By Ingraham. 6 Deadwood Dick asa Boy. By E. L. Wheeler. 7 Wild Bill. By Ingraham, 8 The Prairie Ranch. By J. E. Badger. 9 Roving Joe. By A. H. Post. 10 ‘'exas Jack. By Ingraham. - 11 Charley Skylark, the Sport. By H. B. Stoddard. 12 Brimstone Bill’s Booty. By J. E. Badger, Jr. 13 Rowtog Ben. By J. J. Marshall. 14 The Ticket-of-Leave’s Trick. By J. E. Badger, Jr. 15 Wide-Awake George. By E. Willett. 16 Wide-Awake Ned. By B. Ringgold. 17 Peter, the Dandy Greenhorn. By Noah Nuff. 18 Adrift on the Prairie, By Oll Coomes. 19 Joe, the Rover Sport. By A. H. Post. 20 Giant Pete and his Pards. By Harbaugh. 21 Yellow Hair. By Ingraham. 22 The Snow-Trail. By Harbangh. 283 Old Grizzly Adams. By Dr. Powell. 24 Woods and Waters. By Whittaker. 25 A Rolling Stone. By W. R, Eyster. 26 Red River Rovers. By C. D. Clark. 27 Buckskin Sam's Wild Ride. By Ingraham. 28 The Sword Prince. By F. Whittaker. By T. C. Harbaugh. 30 Paul De Lacy. By O. D. Clark. 81 Round the Camp-Fire. By J. E. Badger, Jr. 32 Fancy Frank's Drop. By Ingraham. By Capt. F. Whittaker. 8 Kit Carson. 34 The Chase of the Great White Stag. By C. D. Clark, 35 Old Tar Knuckle. By Rovér Starbuck, ‘ 86 The Dashing Dragoon. By F. Whittaker. 87 Night-Hawk George. By Ingraham, 88 The Boy Exiles of Siberia. By Tl’. C. Harbaugh. 89 The Young Bear Hunters, By Morris Redwing. 40 New York Bill, the Dodger. By Edward Willett. 41 The Settler’s Son. By Edward §. Ellis. 42 Walt Ferguson's Cruise. By C. D. Clark, t 43 Rifle and Revolver. By F. Whittaker. 44 The Lost Boy Whalers. By ‘I’. C. Harbaugt.. 45 Bronco Billy. By Ingraham. 46 Dick, the Stowaway. By Charles Morris. 47 The Colorado Boys. By J. E. Badger, Jr. 48 The Pampas Hunters. By T. C. Harbaugh, 49 Nebraska Charlie. By Ingraham, 60 Jack, Harry, and Tom. By F, Whittaker, 51 Tom Stone, the Old Sea Dog. By C. D. Clark. 52 The Boy Detectives. By T. C. Harbaugh 53 Harry, the Country Boy, in New York. Morris. Z 54 California Joe. By Ingraham. 55 Tip Tressel, the Flatboat Boy. 56 The Snow Hunters. By Harry De Forrest. 57 Harry Somers, the Magician. By 8, W. Pearce. 58 Captain Jack in Rocky Roost. By Ingraham, 59 Tim, the Mule Box of the Mines. By Charles Morris, — 60 The Young Trail Hunters. By '’. C. Harbaugh. s 61 The Tiger Hunters. By J. E. Badger, Jr. Bt 62 Doctor Carver, the Champion Shot. By Ingraham. — 63 Black Horse Bill, the Bandit Wrecker. By Roger Starbuck. 64 Young Dick Talbot. By A. W. Aiken, ‘By Charles ¥ By Edward Willett. Wx,
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oe ? THE Deadwood Dict e Library HANDSOME TRL-BOLORED COVERS, 82 Pages. Issued Every Wednesday. Price 5 Cents. Buy One and You Will Buy the Rest! &xtracts from the New York Evening Sun. TWO REMARKABLE in only one sense of the word can it be regarded asa aovel statement when the fact is here recorded that litera- ture has given many heroes to the world, and perhaps more than one reader will have to think a moment over this remark before the subtle delicacy of its genial wit strikes home, But it is most essentially a half dime novel statement that will be news to many when it is added that litera- ture, if traced from the dimly distant days when Adam was a mere child down to the present day, would show out few heroes that in the eyes of boyhood would be even judged worthy of comparison with the two greatest keroes known to American literature, or, to promptly re- veal tham, Deadwood Dick and Deadwood Dick, Jr. * * * The modern heroes of fiction for young America, who are now as countless as the sands of the sea, and of whom the Deadwood Dicks are much the most Important * * * it is but natural that their * * * should bear away the palm of popularity, and suchas * * * be left far behind in the race. It oan be edsily belleved, therefore, that the two Dicks @re so firmly engrafted on the tree of popular literature fer boys and young men, that thelr position is assured * ¢ * and that they stand to-day head and shoulders mEROES. above all rivals in the eyes or \he public for which they have lived, and for which one of them has died. i American boyhood, and that is a tremendous factor in the land, now knows Deadwood Dick, Jr., a good beal bet- ter than it knows its catechism, and millions of young minds absorb the thrilling incidents of his career in hig everlasting warfare against crime and his never-ending solving of impenetrable mysteries. Millions of boys follow his stealthy footsteps as he tracks his vicious victims to their undoing, and then, when the victims are thoroughly undone, the millions wait hungrily for the next volume, which on every Wednesday appears with the certainty of the Wednesday itself, and a new set of seligneeut thrills go thrilling away from Maine to Call fornia, There are the volumes each so crowded with thrills and heart-tugs that If were madness to hope to do justice to them collectively and rank injustice to discriminate be- tween them, To abandon the idea of giving a few extracts causes In- finite pain, but if once a start were made in that direc- tion, it would be cruel to The Evening Sun’s readers to stop, and it is therefore better not to relate one single adventure, Suffice it to say that the stories are clean and well written, DEADWOOD DICK LIBRARY. 2 Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road 3 The Double Daggers; or, Deadwood Dick’s Defiance 8 The Buffalo Demon; or, The Border Vultures 4 Buffalo Ben, Prince of the Pistol 5 Wild Ivan, the Boy Claude Duval 8 Death-Face, the Detective ? The Phantom Miner; or, Deadwood Dick’s Bonanza 8 Old Avalanche, the Great Annihilator; or, Wild Edna, the Girl Brigand 9 Bob Woolf, the Border Ruffian 40 Omaha Oll, the Masked Terror; or, Deadwood Dick in Danger ‘1 Jim Bludsoe, Jr., the Boy’ Phenix; or, Through to Death 12 Desens Dick’s Eagles; or, The Pards of Flood ar 38 Buckhorn Bill; or, The Red Rifle Team 14 Gold Rifle, the Sharpshooter i5 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or, Calamity Jane {6 Corduroy Charlie, the Boy Bravo 17 Heeees Rob; or, Nugget Ned, the Knight of the Gule ‘8 Idyl, the Girl Miner; or, Rosebud Rob on Hand 19 Photograph Phil: or, Rosebud Rob’s Reappearance # Watch-Eye, the Shadow #1 Deadwood Dick’s Device; or, The Sign of the Double Cross 22 Canada Chet, the Counterfeiter Chief 28 Deadwood Dick in Leadville; or, A Strange Stroke for Liberty 24 Deadwood Dick as Detective 25 Gilt-ldge Dick 26 Bonanza Bill, the Man-Tracker; or, The Secret Twelve 37 Chip, the Girl Sport 38 Jack Hoyle’s Lead; or, The Road te Fortune 39 Boss Bob, the King of Bootblacks »”O Denes Dick’s Double; or, The Ghost of Gorgon’s ulch $i Blonde Bill; or, Deadwood Dick’s Home Base 8 Solid Sam, the Boy Road-Agent 33 Tony Fox, the Ferret: or, Boss Bob’s Boss Job 34 A Game of Gold; or, Deadwood Dick’s Big Strike 35 Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, The Picked Party 86 New York Nell, the Boy-Girl Detective 87 Nobby Nick of Nevada; or, The Scamps of the Sierras 38 Wild Frank, the Buckskin Bravo 89 Deadwood Dick’s Doom; or, Calamity Jane's Last Adventure 40 Deadwood Dick’s Dream; or, The Rivals of the Road 41 Deadwood Dick’s Ward; or, The Black Hills Jezebel 42 The Arab Detective; or, Snoozer, the Boy Sharp 43 The Ventriloquist Detective. A Romance of Rogues 44 Detective Josh Grim; or, The Young Gladiator's Game . 45 The Frontier Detective; or, Sierra Sam’s Scheme 46 The Jimtown Sport; or, Gypsy Jack in Colorado 47 The Miner Sport; or, Sugar-Coated Sam’s Claim 48 Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son; or, Apollo Bill, the Road-Agent 49 Sierra Sam, the Detective 50 Sierra Sam’s Double; or, The Three Female Detect- ives 51 Sierra Sam’s Sentence; or, Little Luck at Rougk Ranch 52 The Girl Sport; or, Jumbo Joe’s Disguise 53 Denver Doll’s Device; or, The Detective Queen 54 Denver Doll as Detective 55 Denver Doll’s Partner; or, Big Buckskin the Sport 66 Denver Doll’s Mine; or, Little Bill’s Big Loss 57 Deadwood Dick Trapped 58 Buck Hawk, Detective; or, The Messenger Boy’s Fortune 59 Deadwood Dick’s Disguise; or, Wild Walt, the Sport 60 Dumb Dick’s Pard; or, Eliza Jane, the Gold Miner 61 Deadwood Dick’s Mission 62 Spotter Fritz: or, The Store-Detective’s Decoy 63 The Detective Road-Agent; or, The Miners of Sassa fras Ci‘ y 64 sss iy Charlie’s Detective Dash; or, The Cattle ings M. J. IVERS & CO., Publishers (James Sullivan, Proprietor), 879 Pearl Street. NEW YORK.
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Copyright 1878-1884, by Beadle & Adams. Entered at Post Office, New York. N. Y., as second class matter. Mar. 15, 18% aes THE ARTHUR WESTBROOK CO. , No. 11 Cleveland, Ohio Vol. I JIM BLUDSOE, Jr., the Boy Phenix; °*"*r0 paar Sete A pn cee ree BY EDWARD L. WHEELER. AUTHOR OF “pRapwoon nice” \pOURLB.DAGGERS. ‘QLOVEN HOOF,” BTC., BIG) = - : “arene eer ae — ee ———, JR BLODSOE, JR., AY YOUR SERVICB)” HE REPLIND, COOLLY.
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eadwood Dick @ Library ® HANDSOME TRL-SOLORED COVERS 82 Pages. Buy One and You Will Buy the Rest! For Sample Cover See @thei Side. DEADWOOD DICK LIBRARY. 1 Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road 2 The Double Daggers; or, Deadwood Dick’s Defiance 8 The Buffalo Demon; or, The Border Vultures 4 Buffalo Ben; Prince of the Pistol 5 Wild Ivan, the Boy Claude Duval 6 Death-Face, the Detective 7 The Phantom Miner; or, Deadwood Dick's Bonanza 8 Old Avalanche, the Great Annihilator; or, Wild Edna, the Girl Brigand 9 Bob Woolf, the Border Ruffian 10 Omaha Oll, the Masked Terror; or, Deadwood Dick in Danger 11 Jim Bludsoe, Jr., the Boy Phenix; or, Through to Deat 12 Deadwood Dick’s Eagles; or, The Pards of Flood ar 3 Buckhorn Bill; or, The Red Rifle Team 4 Cold Rifle, the Sharpshooter 5 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or, Calamity Jane 6 Corduroy Charlie, the Boy Bravo 7 Rosebud Rob; or, Nugget Ned, the Knight of the @ Guich 8 Idyl, the Girl Miner; or, Rosebud Rob on Hand 9 Photograph Phil; or, Rosebud Rob's Reappearance Watch-Eye, the Shadow Pestwces Dick’s Device; or, The Sign of the Double Toss Canada Chet, the Counterfeiter Chief Deadwood Dick in Leadville; or, A Strange Stroke for Liberty Deadwood Dick as Detective Gilt-Edged Dick Bonanza Bill, the Man-Tracker ; or, The Secret Twelve Chip, the Girl Sport Jack Hoyle’s Lead; or, The Road to Fortune Boss Bob, the King of Bootblacks ser bet Dick’s Double; or, The Ghost of Gorgon's ule Blonde Bill; or, Deadwood Dick’s Home Base Solid Sam, the Boy Road-Agent 33 Tony Fox, the Ferret; or, Boss Bob's Boss Job 84 A Game of Gold; or, Deadwood Dick’s Big Strike 85 Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, The Picked Party 36 New York Nell, the Boy-Girl Detective 87 Nobby Nick of Nevada; or, The Scamps of the Sierraa 88 Wild Frank, the Buckskin Bravo 89 Deadwood Dick’s Doom; or, Calamity Jane’s Last Adventure 40 Deadwood Dick’s Dream; or, The Rivals of the Road 41 Deadwood Dick’s Ward; or, The Black Hills Jetebel 42 The Arab Detective; or, Snoozer, the Boy Sharp 43 The Ventriloquist Detective. A Romance of Rogues 44 Detective Josh Grim; or, The Young Gladiator's ame 45 The Frontier Detective; or, Sierra Sam's Scheme 46 The Jimtown Sport; or, Gypsy Jack in Colorado 47 The Miner Sport; or, Sugar-Coated Sam's Claim 48 Dick Drew, the Miner's Son; or, Apollo Bill, the Road-Agent 49 Sierra Sam, the Detective 50 Sierra Sam’s Double; or, The Three Female Detect ives 51 Sierra Sam’s Sentence; or, Little Luck at Rough anc 52 The Girl Sport; or, Jumbo Joe’s Disguise 53 Denver Doll’s Device; or, The Detective Queen 54 Denver Doll as Detective 55 Denver Doll’s Partner; or, Big Buckskin the Sport 56 Denver Doll’s Mine; or, Little Bill’s Big Logs 57 Deadwood Dick Trapped 58 Buck Hawk, Detective; or, The Messenger Boy's Fortune 59 Deadwood Dick’s Disguise; or, Wild Walt, the Sport 60 Dumb Dick’s Pard; or, Eliza Jane, the Gold Miner 61 Deadwood Dick’s Mission 62 Spotter Fritz: or, The Store-Detective’s Decoy 63 The Detective Road-Agent; or, The Miners of Sassa- fras City 64 epirecd Charlie’s Detective Dash; or, The Cattle ings