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VOL  Nun er- No. 98 WILLIAM STREET. NEW YORK. 5 Cents. NO‘ 343'

 

 

MANHATTAN MIKE, THE BflWERY moon; "‘33’32‘33‘22; “

BY EDWARD L. YVHEELER.

AL'HIUH or " munwmuu DICK" NOVELS, “ uosn‘mn RUB" xmmm " m \cxn nun." sovms. E10,, ETC.

 

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FLUNG an! OVIRBOARD, IN THE PAT}! OF THE BOAT. WHICH “'AF BEGINNIVG TO IOVE OUT m1! BER PIER

 

 

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cilushlo —- 1)
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' You’vago

c.._.___..._.-..
w”--. -..

Manhattan Mike,
THE BOWERY BLOOD;

03,
“ Working-Up ” a Diflcult Case.

l A Metropolitan Detective Tale.

BY EDWARD ll. WHEELER.

aurnoa or' “ DEADWOOD DICK " NOVELS.
“aosnnun non ” NoanS, 1:10., ETC.

CHAPTER l.
THE nnmxxmo or A Pit-CUme CASE.

"I‘m Mahattan Hike, of the Bowery-oh:
Whatever I do I dlwnya make go.
I‘m a werry ii lad.
But you bet I in no call.» .
I‘m Manhattan Mike. 0‘ the Boweryvohl"

THE sing—song tore in which the above verse
was uttered, together with the reckless aban-
don of the singer. proclaimed that he was a. lit-
tie, if not considerably the worse, from the ef-
ects of BOWery stimulant.

Yet, in every sense, the onng man evidently
understood what he was u out.

How as one of that species of humanity, the
rather “loud” and “fast” young man of the
Metropolis, with the shrewdness, ready wit and
common sense of an experienced man of the
world.

Somewhere between the ages of eighteen and
twenty-one years, and not hardly of the average
statnro'khe was, withal. ssessed of a wir and
graceful figure, which. ‘dressed to kill’ as it
wt!ch ininly, that the owner was not a
stranger-to ysica exercise.

in face, he was not to say handsome although
a koenobserver would have found features very

I pleasing to the Eye.

It was rather a. hawkish face—that is to say,
the features were sharp of cast—a fact that no-
wiso detracted from their expression .of sagnci-
ty or intelligence. The face was as smooth can
bele face could be: the month were an ex-
pression of waggi‘shncss, and his eyes were of the

can“ black and most penetrating power.

i; hair, on the contrary. was of a light-
brown color, and as'ou‘rly as it possibly could
ll '

,Hls attire was, in the hight of prevailing
fashion, ’and b ‘ no means inexpensive, compris-
gfllgtbs no eltiss uired to make a ret-
canedkgryo-glassss, the

V . 8 - ' “led “ .‘i' and nosnd

/ V ‘ flag as tohwas _ _rta.quahty

to generality of that worn -, modern

“61530 éfiltl‘igg,gvidsntlyéfiit w ‘ I ttsn
3k slum . ' a v .

~30  ' m one ofths numerous

-« that ' '1 either side of  wary,
 a; a" ,er casting a furtive glance at. swi
 noiighdooking customers the plans

fibs
frmrvgeduptothsbsnanduttors'dths , "is
W!) .

1”
The ‘Wtendsr. a 'la 9 -buil hard-faced
mm,  bad plainly p33 throthgh some of

    
 
 

. . nce. , ‘ -
H~ i4 Is it ‘you. Mike?” 11s dqnanded.
I come over-you, boyi Not on another
racket. I hope?” .
, “ oahozie f" Mike echoed. “ You must have
struclthe wrong vocation, Terry, to hope a
feller had shot down on boos. Has Talmsgo or
Beecher been wras’lin’ wi’ ye?”

“Oh no! But, you see, Mike, on’rc dif-
ferent—you’re too cute to let whis ybefougle

   

yer What iver in the‘world set ye citif’

" Wf '1 I’ll give ye a friend] tip, Tor —-me
moth . s declined earthly ousckeep 11‘, an’
I’m au‘ ban heir to a million 2”

“ with you! Ye never had a
an' father. believe. an’ are less likely ever
have ado! to spare, in or pocket!”

.“Now, ook-ee hear, any; 1 don’t owe yo
felt- a ‘ rat,’ do I?"

“ Not a one.”

“Then glide out the white-wheat essence.

of! your her-base, seems to me, to
be lecturln’ yer superiors!” *

To _y laughed. - ,. ,

“ ay so, Mike. But I hevasortoflikin’
to see yo swell.
night. That’s'hougb. Don‘t make a fool or
{candid M Yugo ousgé sharp, and there's

g prospso or you on
noise hold of ’om. Brace ugfuMike-let boo’;

other

Manhat

life’s  g experiences, gave the young blood.

You hate had a tankful, to?

tan Mike, the Bowery Blood.

 

alone. and go to work. If I had the wit ye
have I‘d not be here sellin’ liquid dynamitel“

" M:- work?" and Clicking his but over his left
eye, Michael placed his thumbs under his arm-
pits. and bracing back. stared in astonishment
at Terence Reilly. “ 1 work? Well, I should
shiver, if i wurkl I allus pays my ante, don‘t 1?
Yo never saw me without boodle enough for a
twent five cent lodgiu', did ye?"

Andy,Y as if to enforce his argument the youn
“ Blood ” took from his pocket, and display
before Terry’s gaze, a large roll of bills.

“ Where did ye git ’em, Mike?" the bartender
demanded. suspiciously.

“ Oh! I took a rib in a polic brace, down on
Houston Street, last night, an ,waded out with
a joint thet would keep a feller for six months.
I say—I sha’n’t ax ye ag’in to trot out the corn—-
field sympathy l”

“ Nor need you, Mike. You'll get nothing to
drink. tonight, from your old friend Terry
Reilly. and don‘t ye lose yer elevated train on
thatl '

The dispenser of convivial cheer spoke so posi—
tively that the Blood of the Bowery looked a
little more sober and considerate.

“Thet’s so; you ha‘ve always been sort of a
friend to me, haven’t you?” he acknowledged.
“ Iorten‘t to forgit it, an’ I don’t. What‘s the
jig, though, Terry, that makes yer so ’apecially
interested?

“A good reason, Mike. There’s bettcr and
more. profitable employment for you than soak-
in’ yersclf with bad rum. Yer as cute a detec-
tive. Mike, as ther’ is in New York, and there‘s
a field open tcr sling yerself in l”

Mike‘s eyes kindled with enthusiasm.

“ Is there a job to be done, Terry, that I kin
git away from the regulars?”

“ You bet there is! and 1 judge it is a fat one.
tool You know that me brother Pat is porter
up at the Hotel Devonshire, Forty-second street
an’ has a clip r eye for all that’s going on.
Well, here’s w at he has telegraphed me!”

He handed Mike an American Rapid tele-
gram, which was worded as follows:-

"Txaar:—Send up the fellow ye callManhattan,
like. ,Tart job for him.

“ Pu REILLY.“

The Bowery Blood scratched his curly head,
perused the message a second time, and then
glanced at his ban some gold Watch.

“It’s not late st, and I’ll trot up and see
what’s Wanted. . ere ain’t much show for me
unless the job’s private fbr the regular force
contrive to ring in ahead of me at every op or-
tunity. Bob Drlscoil is mainly the cause 0 i
too. Ye know he an' I ain’t .on lip-smackin
terms, hn‘ bein’ in with .the regulars an’ the
 his main aim seams tcr ho tor Crush me

 .9 whatever plans I try-tn push for-

f

. don’t black hise sforhiml” Terry
(gnaw, . indigntly. “Stirs, I’ll be afthor
tu’it he runs afoul ma.”

“ I’va t it in for him!” Manhattan Mike dc-
dared w ill: a nod. “ but prefer' to catch him in
some crookedness an’ get him bounced, rather
than vs a scra n’-match with him. Well,
I’m a after the 10 , and will waibtill I’m done
before you set out the decanter!”

\ And with a peculiar smile upon his hawkish
face be left the saloon, at a rather unsteady

gait. .

Walking down the Bowery to Grand street,
l he took the up-town elevated cars, and was soon
landed at Forty-secondsth near the Grand
rCoutral depot.

From here he made his way‘dircct to the
Devonshlre, but a few yards distant.‘

Entering the office he made an examination of
the register. purchased a cigar, and seated him-
self to wait for the appearance of Pat, who was
not resent.

bile puflng at “the weed,” he made a close
optical inventory of the several persons who
were lounging about, and came to the immedi-
ate conclusion that none of them were in need
of a dctective‘s assistance. . -

He was none uainted with the hostelry‘s frigid
clerk, and cone uded that about the most sensi-
ble thing he could do was to makohis inquiries
of porter Reilly. . . .

That individual soon appeared, and was a
burly, good-natureddooking fellow, with the
map 0 Ireland indelibly engraved upon his
countenaan - ’

' As he an red to be at leisure, Manhattan
use. hop .into the-boot-hlacklng chair, and
signaled Pat-to give him ashine. nowing he

could thus engage him in conversation without
the usual bad results of being scowled at bytho
hotel clerk.

 

 

Pat produced his tools and set  work with a

will, but Manhattan Mike checked his energelic
movements with a gentle reminder.

“Not so fast, me buck—o!" he said. “I’ve a
productive cornfield under cultivation where
you‘re plowin‘. Then, too, I’ve got a flea for
your ear.”

Put lucked up with a speculative squint.

“Phat is it?” he demanded, “Be yees Man-
hattan Mike?” ‘

“ I happen to be that same majestic being, at
yer service,” was the reply. “i got wind of the
job up here. and I am before you in all my pris-
tine alory.” ‘

“ ‘Shi Kape a still tongue on yes. Whin the

clock yonder strikes ten, give yer card to the ‘

clerk an’ tell him that yrz want to see Mr. Peleg
Francer. Wbin ye see him ye must make yer
own bizness.” - .

“Bet I’ll do that, if there’s any to be done,”
Mike assured, with ’a wink. “ What’s the nature
of the beast?"

“chl hedad, an’ it's a dual-e one he is; frish
from the cruntkrry too, an as green as a bit 0’
shamrock.”

“ He‘s n-y mutton, then!” Mike declared.
“ I‘m particular fond o’ trcklin’ cases where the
plaintiff don‘t know more’n the counsel."

After his leathers WPl‘e polished up like a
mirror, Mike proceeded to the cfiice counter and
threw down his card.

“ M. MAVERICK,
“ Primle Dem-tire,”

was what was inscribed upon it.

“ Be kind enough to send that n to Mr.
Prancer-Room 28," Mike said, referring to the
r ister. .

he clerk gave ,him a searching stare, and
touched the bell for a call-boy, whom be dis-
patched with the card. ,

“Do you know anything about thé rty in
‘28,?” theclerk asked, still regarding M c with
freezing keenness. .

“ I have not that honor, I believe,” the Bow-
ery boy replied. “I was sent for, and hence, I
am here."

“ Mr. Prancer sent for you, chi”.

“I resume,so. What of it?” -

“0 ,aothing inparticular, only that I re-

rd him as an exceedingly eccentric person.

ecame rushing into the hotel to—day, like a
Texan steer on the rampage, and it was some
time before we could get him quietedfiown infli-
ciently to send him to amom. Unless on Work
the collattus before you do the case, d advise
yell} to htmlttlo to dgdwtilthiglirmi" 1

sun Mike, 9 to r sharply,ony
comhnEHsHsm-przek‘ by anlfflort.  ‘

s  t especial y one _ngxng

to such . Climmnt as the  shire,

should mm such a remarkahio' t of ad-

vice. wuhq'on'd We) under: .

new 691% 1 for! IV. ' . er in
ms; , svth was as?  the
0.11" ’l  . \

"Hr. Prsnoer w lose the trauma in his
room. This way. r,” andthe hey; ‘ od'.
‘briko‘foilow‘sidfingvias   rod into

prescuca’ ’ , 6 eg I’m . orcupins
Corners, Vermont. "

MnPrai‘losr . . "in upon‘ a sofa,and mo.
tionedlflkoto {Eh-clutching.

He was a long,‘ a aboard Yankee, of

’ ' " ’ M51! thirty years, yet

 
 
  

not over a .14. murmur-es, with hi h
check-W‘- , ..  CI. tclpacious'mout .
and a stuhhls of yo I: heard of three weeks’

growth, msdsit- pretty hard to guess whether
he was... young or a middle-aged man; His hair
welst  color as his beard shunned evi~
den y not known the use of acomhqrhtnsh for

     

a long time. , 1

He was dressedina suit of Ilp‘ homespun
Ital-wore stogy‘hoots‘of _ . , an. flaring
rednsoktie,a ugsstssk’.., fronds
battered. ancient—style  a . lime-
worn umbrella layupon the . beside the

couch. ‘ f  , _

All in all, he had ad madgflafigwoodn
countrva none In .S ., u n '
whichf‘llagmhn Mike feasted his eyes £121;
avi-iit . o ' ' .’

Hi homespun suit w well dnstedwl'th flour,
a fsc’t that tended, to in ionic that Polegol’rancor
wummmerof that fanawayburg, . rcupine

Ceiwm,‘ young man; what
Pele Pram demanded, . 
snmgsutIy-to got a fair view N

 
    
 

a.

cry de-
“Ibolieve mycsrd ‘ t h ‘ tug. of \-
my errand ” Mike respond .'“ “ ’ taking: '
in the “ points " of the Yankee. " I bolimyou

are in need of the services of a detective.”

   

.‘m Hal-p.1-

e

23.475991.

 

 

 

 

r hayinlhev laid away uite a sun
I" I)

I‘  330mm;
 yrflm‘eanfl‘onso we never freeze our shins

 

“ Darned of e hain’t hit the nail plum on the
head, youn to or! That’s jest the thing I do
“ant. Rec on you count yerself competent to
fillthe bill. eh i”

“ I have chosen that line of business as a profes-
sion,” Mike assured, with asmile, “ and am open

, for engagement whenever or wherever my ser-
vices are needed.”

“ W’aal, I‘ll swowl Ye don’t look big an’
strong enui! ter milk twenty cows, darned of
ye do.”

“ I hope I may never be called upon to use
through so tr ing an ordeal," Mike decla .

” W hat! di n’t ye never milk cows?"

“ Oh, no! I'll give ye a friendly tip on
that.”

“Been fetched up in a college, an’ fed on
sponge cake, hey?"

“ Cert. Bin through Harvard, Yale, Black-
well’s Island, the R0 al Conservatory of—"

' “Great Jeminy! {fa don’t tell me!”

“You have heard me articulate.”

“ An' so yeou hev turned out a detective,
hey i"

‘I am proud to say I have. Youn in years,
though I am. I am proud to say that am fore-
most in the first-class ranks of the detective ele-
ment. It will be but the matter of a few days
until I become chief of the whole detective
force of this vast city.”

“ Waal, by gel! ye don’t say so? You‘re the
very chap I’m arter then. I want a feller that
is smart as chain-lightnin,’ ye see, an’ I suppose
yon calculate e kin fill the bill?”

‘ If I can’t, onorable Mr. Prancer, there isn’t
a chap in New York that can!”

Mr. Prancer seemed deeply impressed at hav-
ing honorable prefixed to his title.

“By the way, sir, how is your milling busi-
ness gettin on at Porcupine Corners? Mike
pursued. ‘ I have fre uently seen your name
mentioned in New Yor papers as a producer
of the finest flour in Vermont."

“ Indeed!” Mr. Prancer looked a little doubt-
fulabout this. “Thet’s the furst I ever kuewd
I was so fur known from home. I sup e tho’,
et aire so. Ye see, I don’t take no her seat at
gristgrindin’ nowhar over the State 0‘ Ver-
moat.

“ Oh! that is a well-known fact. You see, it
doesn’t take a man of your well-known business
standing long to get free advertising in mer-
cantile circles. I resume if half of our reputed
rich men of New ork had as good a standing
to-day as you. Mr. Prancer, Bradetreet‘s' woul
not have to chronicle so many failures. But,
now, let us is: down to business. Business is
business, ye ow in the Metropola, and we of
the perfesh don’t have much time I do chores,
except for money. You, I believe, are in want
of a detective?" ,

“ Lord a’mighty, yes!” '

"When did ye arrive here, Mr. Prancerl"

-“ This mornin’. f Hartford. I cum thare
from Porkypine Corn rs." .

“I suppose, accordingly, your mission is a
very important one?”

“ I'll be gel-darned of it ain‘t. I never was so'
mad afore in all my born days. I a’pose I acted
kinder mad down-stains, but I was mad, an’
when Peleg Pranoer gits mad, he’s wuss ‘n a
Mexican lion !”

Whether Mr. Prancer’s cation in natural
history had been sadly neg ected, or whether
he intended the rate to the Mexican lion as
a bithonfrfiankee face  Manhattan Mike
was’ reputed

 hen-a ed ngothing.

“ I hear on rather violent below," Mike
said, “ an wcu d like if you desire to emplo
me, to have a brief explanation of the case I

, have to undertake.” .

Prancer took a chew of tobacco from a tin
box and then began:

* “Weal, I cackilote what I tell to ya won’t go
no further!" ’

“ Certainly not, except that necessity requires
it to advance the case. .

“ Korea, Ye see, I want the thin did up in
brown aha an’ 'tain’t no use ter ev every-
body stick 31' their snoot inter the bizneas. Ye
know my name—Peleg Prancer, Eskwire, o’
‘Porkypine corners, Vermont. Guess most ni
everybody knows where Porkypine Corners a,

‘ . ’ca’e'e there'a more porkypines killed tharabouts

on year than in an other part of the State.
' '~ “ aal, I own the ggist-mill thar, an’. 91 I do
sum fer a
y day,we allers as plenty r eat in the

course we don t dress ter kill, but

._  cold weather.”
. “"1 lake it you are a Benedict!"
, “ yer plows-mo! I‘m a Framer,

Manhattan Mike,

 

eVery day in a week and twice on Sunday.
Old Jake Benedict, the internal mean skunk,
lives a mile below me, an‘ he’s meaner than
thunder, he is. Why, would ye b‘lieve.it, he
goes an’ let’s down the rail fence arter dark, an’
lets his cows inter the neighbors’ grain."

“ But, sir, you misunderstand me. 1—"

“No sech a darned thing. I know jest all
about it. Ther’ ain’t only one Benedict in the
neighborhood an’ that’s old Jake. Everybody
knows him. I-Ie’s the dirtiest scalawag in Ver-
mont.”

“But, let me e lain: here, in New York,
we have a fashion 3? calling married men Ben-
edicts. I meant to propound the idea, sir, thet
ye Were a married man."

“Me married? Gosh all‘tlsh-hooks, Ishould
say so! Why. youn feller, I‘ve got a gal as

ig as you, an’ it’s all on account 0’ her thet I
am beer!“

“Ah! yes. Now you’re gettin’ down to busi-
ness. Go ahead."

“ An’ so ye call married men, Benedicts, d’ye,
hyer in New York?"

" Of course.”

“ Waal, let me tell ye one thing. oung feller
--don’t yer never come up ter Por y ine Cor-
ners an’ call none 0’ the married folks nedicts,
of ye don’t want ter git yer carcass filled full 0
buckshot. Why, of ye‘d call a feller a Benedict,
thar, ye’d get tar-an’-feathered quic‘ker’n the
jerk of a lamb’s tail~an’ a line-wool ewe lamb,
at that!”

Manhattan Mike did not smile. He was the
one person of a hundred who could compose his
features, even when he was ready to burst with
laughter.

He saw that the Vermonter was liable to
prattle on all night, without coming to the
point, if he was not checked.

“ Well, what about this girl of yours?"

“ Oh! yas. Waal, she skipped.”

“ Ah! eloped, eh i"

“ That’s what ye call it, I an ‘ Ski ’
is good enough fer me. est ter thin -—-I
fetched thet gal up ’cordin’ ter Scripter, till
she was sevontecn, an' then she u an’ left her
hum' an’ parents. Heer, read 8 is letter—ct
will tell ye a darned sight more than I km, in
an hour’s talk." ‘

He took a couple of sheets of paper from his
Ezcket which were oOVered wit writing, and

nded them to Manhattan Mike. _

That individual took time to light a cigar, and
then began the perusa'.

The letter was written in a fine, clear style of
chirography, and ran thus:

~ “ August 10, lab. ‘

“Dun Farnsnz-lly the time you receive this,
you will, doubtless, have learned that I have left
my home, forever. It will be useless to search for
me, for I have gone in quest of him whom I love
better than I do the happy home I have always had
—until recently. You now to what I refer. b this,
and it is useless for me, to ca mere. on the su
When. in all my you c, was I ever more
shocked than when your and turned against poor
Half It nearly dmve me frantic, but I had churn a
one ‘to aid im to escape the harsh penalties o a
 accusation-an accusation as unjust as the
wor u .

“Then, too other troubles have been we hing
me down. I Va left behind me letters that we
received during the last two months—letters and
newspaper clippings, which though a mystery to
me, are of course intended but for one urpose—to
forever min my life, and happiness. I are not 12-.
main to face it all: my heart is broke—my emstence
is a hideous terror to me.

“80 f ving all. and praying for all toforgive
me. who may have need by this step, i m
Bola aw y. I shall fin Ned, and-be hap y.

up catea of the letters, and clippings. have f n
into other bands, and thrdugh them. only, you may
boahleto and out who is my unknown pemccutor
or persecutora, be they or more.

" ’our daughter
“dawn.

 

CHAPTER II. c

atrmto!

Mama-ran Mm: read the letter but once,
then looked suddenly up from the miseiveand
gave the Vermonter a keen glance.

“ Who is this Gracie?” he demanded, shar l .
The Yankee’s face did not change an o
fgolrfiflits original and usual expression of

s o t .

“ Whyo is she! Darn it, all, didn’t I tell ye in
the fust start she was my darteri What more
d’ye want?"

“Excuse my ab these,” and the Bowery
Blood ga’sed hard at t e floor. “Gracie is your
daughter. She had a lover, and his name was

ed
“Yes. Ned Shields.”
“ Edward Shields!”

u

send an officer a or on, and there will

 

the. Bowery Blood. 3

“ Yas—Ned, for short."

“Jud ing by the tone of your daughter‘s let-
ter, Edward was accused of doing something
naughty?"

“Gel-darn his picter, yes! He war a thief—
a out-an= out thief!”

“ A,hl What were the circumstances of the
case'i’

“ Weal, ye see, this teller Shields, was a
ne hew of old Simon Sanger, at the Corpus,
an used to post his books. Sanger war a spv cil-
later, an’ one thing another, and, next to me,
was the richest chap there. Ned was a poor
relation, ye see, and was sorter took in ter his
uncle’s employ, for charity’s Sake.”

“ I see. Go on.”

“ Wan]. old Sanger an’ I warn’t much friends,
ye know, an’ the old cuss objected fer Ned’s
comin’ to see Gracie. an’ I rfectly agreed
with him. on that. an‘ Ned an’ had sum words,
an’ darn his picter, he sweared he‘d have my
gal, in spite of me! Then, I booted him of! ’m
the place. Next thing we knowed, thar was a
big rumpus. Old Sanger and Ned bed had a
split u , an' Ned were bounced, an’ ther report
were t et Sanger’s discarded son were ter come
buck. But he didn’t, tho’, for acme reason, or
other.

“ Waal, within a day or two, there was an-
other sensation. Some one had entered old
Sanger’s house. through a window, an’ SIA is
two thousan’ dollars. Ther same night, ,my
best. sorrel boss was stolen, and ’spishun turned
to Ned Shields. A warrant was sweared out,
an‘ I bein’ consrable, I was sent after him.
But, darn his picter, he was nowhere to he
found. The post-ems clerk sed he had been!
him speak 0’ comin' ter New York. Nextquy.
my gal she cut sticks and run, an’ th'h’s the
hull of it, ‘cept thet l’m beer arter ’em, an’ at I
find that darned thief, I’ll set him up in
business, ye kin bet, purty lively.”

“ You think he came to New Yorkl” V

H Yes.” ,, ‘ 

“ And the girl, too!” » ‘ ‘
If“ (3n course she did. She was epooney after

im. »

“ What about the letters and newspaper clip-
pings. she alludes'to?” _.*. '

o 1‘: Didn't find none, ‘oept one, and her. that
is ’ , .

He extended to ka‘e a coiled sheet of letteh
paper, on the top of which was printed;

“WARREN & 03.. Sm Baa
" Lil Hester St., N. Y." m

The letter ran as follows:

“ honorarium Grunts:—
“ Once more I warn you that if you do not coma
to me, and fulfill our promise of marriage, I shall
quite a
scene in your home. ' our complies! in standing
the fin-god draft on the bank on W street, h sins-
pectai. and detectives are on their way to your
place. If they gobble onto you, it will be our own
ault, for not comlfi hen. Hurry ageing: .execute
that check on the rst National of act. Maine,
and then ht: out, and come here. It is a hundred-
fold safer re for those of our craft. Mind! lf

they latch you don't you ve me away, and I'll
you out of the amps. oney, position, and refit?-

cal influence, is a war, now a, you now

Should you come, w first, ‘ B. Y. Z.. 13

xiii/glide“ town Herald ollce,’ eta hour of
V

)
Your Own, forever.

"Sam"
This letter was pennedin adasbincst is of
chirography—unqaestionably a man's -

writing.
A fa at smile was on Manhattan Mike’s face.
as he read on.
“ This was the only letter you found!” he
 tln’ally, putting the missive in his pucket.
‘ as.

“ Was your daughter always at home?”
“ On course‘she was.”
“ Did she have any regular com n i”

“ Not by a darned sight. We 33.3. fetched.

her up ’cordin’ to Scripter, an’ she never had a
teller ‘cept Ned Shields.”

“This letter is dated New York, July 7th.
wasYShields in Porcupine Corners then?”

‘ as.’

“ Then you don’t suspect him of being in any

I way connected with the writing of this letter?”

“ Guess not, onlem he had some case beer,
a-doin’ the job.”

“What could be his object in doing such a
thing! I infer, from your mention of him, that
he loved your daughter.”

“Cues his “Kicker, that’s what he sed. Ha
luved late}: , anyhow, to steal my horse and

“ Are u tive he was the cal tr’

“Onctyi‘grezodWhoelaedld iti” p“. ' ‘

“A thousand persons might have done It.

 

 

 

   
 

.—-..—%
. K ' ‘

.__i__ u . .1.-
\"MA ‘ .

  
   

:"

 

~ quiet hog drinks the hot r shore of the swill,

4

o

 

 

cause to do so, by the ssession of proofs.

my opinion, this Shie ds is not the man he is i
! ghat will ye produce the teller, the
, x an’

pictured.”

Mr. Peleg Prancer evidently did not regard
this view with any too much favor.

‘ I Epcot et ain’t none 0’ yer b zness, ef he is
ornotl he growled. “Yer hired ter find him
-—that’s all. D’ye see?”

“ Certainly! You pay me to find Mr. Edward 3

Shields and turn him over to you.”

“ You’ve hit it now I"

“And you, likewise, want me to find your
daughter?”

“ 0n course I do !” -

“ Well, is that all!"

“ No. b thunder no! When she scooted, she
tn]: 9. litt tin trunk or safe, containin’ papers
of the utmost value to me. Them must
found. ef we hov ter raise every stone in New
York!”

Prancer had arisen, and spoke with unusual
vehemence—excitedly, nervously.

His hitherto inscrutable countenance, now
were a. hard, grayish expression, that forcibly
indicated his nature to be not of the meekest—
nor did Manhattan like the glitter of his eyes.

“What are these papers?” Mike asked quietly.

“ None of yer bizness. They haven’t nuthin’
tar do with the case. I want the teller au‘ gal
-—-that’s all l”

At which it became apparent to Mike that
Prancer was playing a part.

“ I suppose ye’r’ aware that in acity like New
York, it will not be an easy '0b to find ’emi”

“ That ain‘t none 0’ my airs. You get paid
to find ’em, an‘ that’s your lookout.”

“ You can give an accurate description of the
parties?"

“Yas. Shields is of medium figure, an’ light-
complected. with brown hair an’ mustache. He
is twenty~four years old. comin‘ January, an’
aire sort of spruced up, like yourself. The gal
is seventeen, an’ dark complected. She‘s the

urtiest a! at the Corners—has black eyes and

'r an is smart as chain-lightnin’.”

“I presume a detective needn’t look an hour
without findin’ ’em, ef he went by that descrip-
tion,” Mike observed, dr ly. “ Have you pho-
toe of this recious pair?’

“ Yes. eer they aire l”

He handed Manhattan Mike two cards which
evidently had been recently taken. ,,

The one was of a remarkably pretty youn
hdy, of pleasant face—a decided brunette, an
one whom it would not be hard to remember,
when once‘seen.

The other portrait was of a man answerin
somewhat to Francer’s description of Nod
Shields-the picture of a good-looking young
fellow, who appeared anything hunt a villain-
ous type of character.

Although he resembled a hundred and one
an to hummdly u h the shirts of tllr Me-

oue tinguish g pecu or t .
waned with an aristocratic, cultured ti.
gemion of countenance was a piercing look of

e eye, so intense that it would seem it was the
intent of the owner of the photo-face to magnet
ixe whomecever his gene rested u .

Manhattan Mike’s experience n the busine
he had chosen as a profession had not been ex-
tensive, but hewas naturally a keen student of
human character. and his attention was cen-
tered for several moments ‘upon the two pic-
tans.

Peleg Prancer at length  pted him:
" Well, what d’ye make '

“Oh‘l nothin’ much. I  mixing the
faces, so I would know them?“ I by acci-
dent loss the photos.” €31.53 .

“Ye’r’ onto, you airel =thiuk ye can

find the pair?”
" I presume
think

“ Mister Shields! asl, I
mean to call that scalawag

   
  
 

“Certainly Mr. isa mar, . f respect t
every one ought to use, no matter whagpe e
circumstances. {3; or '

“You're a qusrs one. Baths d ye
see himf” . ' .‘

“That is a part of my ow ,essional busi.
uses. 1 am not supposed to , my secrets
gratuitously.” ' 451:»... "

    

“Oh! ye haiu‘t, eh! Ye M

e ye a dinner on green ye cum
timei”

 

onacase,

insks m as scrordi in; if I have
anything to pa with, I let a My motto,
ever ' ‘ sd out mm giveaway lit

    
 
 
 

is use.) other words, the

n
a :in short order; but Mike was not knocked

Manhattan Mike, the Bowery Blood. _

M :— .-_'_1._'.'.'_'.I.. -_. .. _ , _.___--.._....-_.__._____.._ .-.__..

Never condemn a man until sure you have good  and puts better and more (profitable pork on the
In ; market than the squealer

oes.”

“ Dunno but ye’r’ right. Now ter bizuess.
I, an’ the
papers for, within forty—eight hours
from now, without fail?”

Manhattan Mike took a good look at the Ver—
monter, then glanced at his watch.

“ 'I‘o night is August 20th, and the time is ex-
actly halt-past ten. Within forty-eight hours
from date. for the sum of three hundred dollars,
I will produce before you Edward Shields and
Grace Prancer. Terms: Half 08811 in advance;
balance on-delivery !” . ,

. Mr. Prancer rapped upon the table before
which he now stood.

A closet deer opened, and a man stepped out
into the room.

“Bob I )risooll!" Manhattan Mike uttered,
sprin ing to his feet.

“ on hot!” that worthy uttered, “ and I un-
derbid you, just an even hundred.’

“That would be nothing new for you to do,”
Manhattan Mike cried, his eyes flashing with
indignation. “ If you want the job, Sneaker
Driscoll, you are rfectly welcome to it. Mr.
Peleg Prancer’s bit of Yankee strategy has sat-
isfied me that I should not desire to work up his
case for him at any price. So the field is entire-
ly open to you.” ,

“ Lookee here!” Driscoll cried. belli erently.
“ What d‘ye mean by callin’ me ‘ Shea er?”

“I believe that is a title you are ve well
knewn by 1” Mike retorted, coolly, “ and have
aspecial penchant for the term—it fits e as
closely as though ground in b an emery-w eel.”

“Cues your im udence. I’ thrash the life out
of you for that, 1Mike Maverick!” and Driscoll
looked savage.

He was a heavv-set young fellow, possibly
three years the Bowery Blood's senior, with a
beardless, bull-dog sort of countenance, devoid

. of refined outlines, and a pair of snaky eyes that

were by no means of honest expression.

His attire was neither neat nor attractive,
and he looked what he was—a typical rowdy-
ini bullying city rough.

person would have been led to su that
he was an overmatch for Manhattan he in a
fight, but the Bowery boy was eVIdently not of
that opinion. ‘

“You use pre strong Words, Mr. Dris-
colll” he said provo :ingly. “It has never been
your Iprivilege to thrash Manhattan Mike, yet,
that am awareof.”

“Mebbe ye think I can’t do it?" Driscoll
"filial to did!

‘ were e mas m opinion can . y,
it would likely game ’youl” Mike smiled,
tantalisingly. “Let me tell you, Bob Dris-
ooll. that don’t fear you at all, and though
you have used every means to 5 ii the suc-
cess of my adventures, heretofore, accredit it
to the fact that you are a rough, ignorant
lout. jealous of every one’s. en mar accom-
plishmen and mali at town those who
are better ban you, causeayou aretbomean
asneak and loafer to help yourself out of the
unenviable sphere you occupy!”

With a vengeful fervor d Manhattan like
utter these words;—-he meant every word to

count. and it did.
m w. literally, as black‘ as a

scoll’s brow
thundercloud and e doubled up his fists threat-
low-lived

eniulgly.

“ ll I’arn ya to bla’ ard m9,

Bower buml” he  “ I’ll w le some 0’
your so feathers, now that I’ve a chance.”

“That’s ri t. Pitch in, boys! The fellcr
that licks is t e feller 1 want!” Pelee Pmncer
declared, ettlng near‘ the door, either with a
view of s utting of! the chance for either of
the men to escape, or else taking the position
with aview of escaping, should an assault be
made upon him.

Drlscoll utterin no reply, rushed fiercely at
athe Bowery boy tent upon knocking him outi
ou
b any means. His black eyes were fixed upon
{h rival detective and as e rushed forward

fiat!!! blood tlhea " lightly to one side, and
a y l e u . .

Down, with“: crash,ythat jarred the door,
went Drisooll, striking fairly  his face,
augmeng a jet of duct tospurt tromhis
n s.

Alowlaugh em ' the Bowerybo . .
Quickly regainingdhls feet, with an ginristed

scoll once more sprung toward hisad~

verso .
The;y there followed an exchange of rapid

blows, and violent canes on the part of Bob.

One terrific blow caught him on the right

  

 

eye, another on the left, a third upon his bleed-

A

   
 

 

:_‘,::_:.;-__.-  g -l 
ing m se, at which he fell, and did not rise; he
was undisputably “knocked out.”

Manhattan Mike did not show the result of

a blow or Scratch.

" When the bums begin to drap.
And good b‘hoys begin in scrap—"

he. aging, turning to Peleg Pram-er, with a
Win .

“ f ye don’t b‘lieve it, jest drop down in the
Bower , some night, and I’ll show ye how we
train as, down there. Have the kindness t»
step,one side, Mr. Prancer. I will bid you good
eve!

“ What! ain’t e goin’ ter undertake the job?"
Prancsr demon ed. 3

“ Not muchly, old grisimill! Ye deceived
me by having an eavesdropper, and I don’t
have no split ticket when I vote. Mebbe I’ll
look up the case, but if I do I‘ll look deeper into
it. You hire Driscoll fer two hundred. l’ll
work for thin’."

“ What d’ye mean t”

“ I mean, thet I don’t take five cents’ Worth 0’
watered-stock in you, sir, and i ain’t hitchin' on.
In my rivate opinion. publicly expressed,
you’re a rst—class fraud!”

And trashing past the Vermonter Manhattan
Mike left the room.

CHAPTER III.
sons AND HER Mission.

MANHATTAN MIKE went direct from the Hotel I

Devonshire to his lodgings, in a Hester street
tenement, near the Bowery.

He had one apartment here, on the third
flight, which, though b no means firstclass,
was comfortably furnis ed with a bed, chairs.
table, and warmed by a grate fire. «

The walls were covered with lithographs of
various celebrities; and here and there were
odd little articles, peculiar to the tastes of the
cit Bohemian. V

reducing his pipe, the young detective
turned on the gas, and seated himself at the
table. A thoughtful'expression was upon his
face as he sent up columns of smoke.

“I’ve 10st the job!” he soliloquized, “but I
ain’t certain that I’m sorry about it. I didn’t

quite catch us lively an interest in it as I might. .

ef any one but that Peleg Prancer had been
connected with it. It is evident that he wants

the girl had. He‘ wants Ned Shields not quite, .

so bad, and he wants that box of papers a good
deal more than either girl or man.”

His reverie was interrupted by a rap on the
door. to which he called on : '

“ Who’s there i”

In the particular neighborth where his
lodgings was located, societ was not exactly
established on a Christian outing, and it was
but prudence to be careful. e denizens of
the vicinity were not noted for good character

or respect for law.
_ “ Its only me, Mike. Can I come in" I girl»
ish voice cried. ' »

“ Certainly. Come in Nora. Your rap
sounded unfamiliar l” Manhattan Mike respond-
ed. heartily. ,

The door had 0 , and a girl entered the
room—one, too, w appearance was some-
what a cook-sat with that of the well-dressed
Bowery BIOOd. I
fu18hr? was abgutggtegx ygarsboic'lagela, of grace—

e,ee en seaaw sheen
accusglm to hard worlr. ' V .

She was rather shabbin clad, showing that
poverty was no stranger to her.

.Ydt, beneath her well-worn hat was a pretty,
Equant face, with a perfect mouth attractive

lue e es, and a tair forehead, fringed with
charm ng shingled " bangs of brown color.

A gleam of pleasure shot athwart Manhutta
Mike 5 features at sight of her. . '

" Well, Nora, how did peanuts and midyi‘a‘nd
fruits sell today?” he asked, pushing

ward a chair.

“ Not ve well, Mike!” and a serious ups-cg-
rich or he; face."h its
woman set ups opon eo pos corner and
she’s stolen away a good seal of my ll‘ade.
She‘s got a bigger stoc than me, too. But l’n
sna my fingers at her to-morrow, ye,

“Thére‘s an Italian ‘

1., ._

up shop 1” .
“ Shot up shop? Why, what,  you talking/1

about, Nora!” ,
’Mike knew that she was a waifhnd anor.

\ .-
. a: p ya

u“ a.
"W
x: _

phan, sinus in the world, with no end to. love or J .'

care for her—except it was himsem—sndwith 
she"I \

no means of support, except w' t’ little-
ld out of a corner

get her the most ll . ~
“ Yes, Mike, I‘ve sold out, sn’ shot np‘ehcp‘lll. .

 

 

stand, onthe Bowery-barely mongol; it was  y.

   
      

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“But I don’t understand you. What in the
world are you going to do without your busi—
ness! ,

“Why, would on believe it, I‘ve got a splen-
did situation, Mi e, as clerk- up at Macy's on
Sixth avenue. Jest think of it! 1 get live dole
lars a week, and can wear good clothes!"

Mike smiled. The idea of wearing good clothes
and living on five dollars a Week was something
beyond his comprehension.

‘ I’d like to know how you got a situation.
there!" he said incredulously.

“ Well, a nicedressed gentleman came along,
and the crowd jostled a bundle he carried into
the gutter. I picked it up and wrappz‘d it in
another paper, and be thanked me awful nice.
Pretty soon he came and bought some nuts, and
asked me if I wouldn’t like a better job. He‘
told me he could get me one, no doubt-so I said
yes. He went away again and came back
about dark, and said he was interested in me
and had obtained me a situation at Macy’s. He

' said that I was to report to-morrow morning.
with better clothes. So I just sold out the stand
to Mom Magnire, and I’m going to Macy’s.”

The expression on the young detective's face
showed that he did not apprmre of the chan e.

“ What was this felluw’s name?" he as ed,
“ and what for looking man is he?”

“Ohl he’s ‘ust scrumptious—«and he said his
name was racy Travis. , Ain’t that a nice
name? Ohl he’s a daisy, Mike—nice-formed,
well-dressed and‘good-looking in face, with a
black mustache, black eyes, and black hair. Oh!
I tell on he’s a real nabOb!” -

“ ndonbtedly!” Mike assented dryly—“ one
'of the sort of nabobs who have naught to do
but fasten their evil gaze upon every pretty
girlish face the see. You take my advice.

ore—look out or Mr. Tracy Travis and don’t
let him insnare you! Go to Macy’s, if you like,
but haVe nothing further to do with the fellow.
I’ll wager a new dice-r he don’t mean you any

Nora’s face flushed, and a grateful expression
passed over it.

“ You bet I’ll take care of. myself, Mike. I've
not been on the streets all these years without
learnin’ how to do that. I am much obliged for
your kind advice, Mike. You Were ever good

‘ to me.”

"“I always took an interest in your welfare,

Nora, because you had no one elso to do so."
“And, Mike, I‘ve got something else to tell
Eva had another adventure. ' -

“ i309 Wei let’s hear it!”
:“ Ohl it’s any. A man pod at my
stand at as I was about leaving t, and asked

me if knew of a smart, keen-witted youth of
honesty and integrity, who was well posted
about the city!”

‘ “Indeed?”

, I
“Yes, and I and him what he wanted of
£9031 boy, and he said that he was hunting for
a person, and wanted to hire a shrewd. wide-
awake young man in preference to employinga
de tiva.”
nhattan Mike had become deeply inter-

“Well, whatdid you tell him, Nora?”
“Why, what d‘ye su pose I told himf—that
, ,I didn’t know of any! on hot [didn’t. I just
told him about , and told him you'd fill the
, hill, and he at he thought you would, and for
‘ you to meet him at the Astor ?ouse in the

mprn ng at nine.” ,
‘ t

, hath his-name.”
“Divid Doro.”

, “ Front. door, or hack door?"

‘ “ I don’t know about that, but I should ’spect
back-door, as he’s from the backw way up
inVermontl"

“ Hal you don’t tell met”.
,“That what he said.” '
H Did he mention what kind of a imonha
was in search of!"
“ No, news I know of. ’cept it was a girl.” ,
Manhattan Mike dashed the ashes out of his
ipe so vehemently that he broke the clay stem

n to dcaen eces.

‘bey, w t’s the matter-micro asked excit-

" fl. . .edy.
"l “Nothing! nothingi” he replied excitedly,

. ‘3 only I‘ve not ucaea which is worthy of my
steel.- Ohi I’ll work it up!" _

. Manhattan Mike was one of the gay birds of
the Bowery, whom sleep seldom troubled. If
ever hedid indu in that luxury, it was gen.

if ,. Hilly in the dayt me; for eVery night saw him
a f} roaming about the city, in the sections where

,.

 

.' the most excitement prevailed.

g, _ It was his custom ,to make a midnight tour of
"  dawn-town police stations, and examine the
g, fighters, in which 1 way he was able to keep

I

    

 

.-- .___ ,-._..—.-

 

Manhattan Mike, the Bowery Blood.

-m,‘ -- -__. d__~, -. as.-- -__.._. __

himself pretty Well posted as to doings in crimi-
nal circles.

He also frequently posted himself as to the
arrivals at the various first and second class
hotels, and picked up such news everywhere,
as might prove of interest to him in his profes-
sional cal ing.

After Nora’s departure, although it was
near midnight, he sallied forth, from his lodg-
ings, and made his way upon the Bowery.
where the crowd was but little less denSe than
earlier in the evening.

Great volumes of humanity pulsed along, in
either direction, without seeming to have any
particular aim. except to move on-—on-—on.

Manhattan Mike was familiar with the loca-
tion of nearly ever den of sin and viCe in the t sec-
tion of the City. but it was not became he was a
frequenter of these dens except in pursuance of
the interests of his profession, or, in other words,
to find some one whom justice “ wanted."

Although of a rather wild and reckless (lis-
p )siilun, he was not the young man to be led
away by any one of the various phases of
vice with which he came in contact, from which
fact he commanded a certain degree of respect
from the rough class with whom he occasionally
mingled.

Of all the resorts that he was familiar with
he knew of but one where he could get vi hat he
would probably need.

This was an upstairs poker-room, run by a
native Vermonter. named Jim Luce.

Luce was a Wide‘uwake man of the world, a
thorough-bred sharp, and yet a perfect gentle-
man, with many good qualities not to be found
in the average gambler.

He liked books and purchased them. He ran
a quiet poker game, and sometimes dealt in a
brace at taro; but every one voted him as square
as a cube.

Through saving him from falling into the
ri er, at a JerseyCit'y ferry-slip, Manhattan
Mike had come to know him, and the two had
since been on very friendly terms.

Remembering that Luce had a Vermont Di-
rectory, Mike made his wa to the resort,
which was located over a clot in store, on the
east side of the Bowery, below Pr nce street.

Understanding the ignal, he gave several
peculiar raps upon the door, and was admitted.

The room was not very large, but contained
a bar, and a number of tables and chairs, and
the windows Were cloael curtained, lamps dif-
fusing all the light permitted.

The tibles were surrounded by players, most
of whom were well-dressed men, who looked as
gl‘iough they might possess some means to gam-

e on.

Mike gave them but an idle glance, for they
were but types of a thousand and One similar
gatherings he had seen, in different places of the

in

Jim [nice was loun  behind the bar, en 0 —
ing a cigar, and no d , as Manhattan i e

approached him.

“ Howdy. Mikel What’s the word?" the gam-
bler saluted—a large,powerfull wrought fellow,
he was, with sand heard. an keen m eyes.

“Oh! things stil movel” Mike rep -
naturedl . “ My business isa little dull, ow-
ever. an I thought I‘d come up and ‘pull ' your
place, and make a spec, you see."

Luce looked serious.

“Ye know I’ve had a notion on would be
doing something like that, one 0 these times!”
he said, earnestly.

Mike laughed.

“Ifl was in that line of business, there‘s
plenty I’d single out. before I’d tackle you.” he
said. “By the way, I’ve another mission. to-
night. Luce I” '

“ What is it”

“ You have a State Business Directory of Ver-
mont?”

“No. I have, however, one of each county.
in separate volumes.”

. “That, perhaps, will do as well. I want to
find a town, village, or hamlet, known as Por-
cupine Corners.” ,

Luce looked at the Bowery Blood rather
quizz'ically. I

“ Porcupine Corners!" he echoed. “ Why,
What in the world is the matter with ‘yonl
There isn’t such a place in all Vermont, I’ll
take an oath.” ' '

“ Are you sure?”

“I am. Here is a set of volumes, ng
every postal addresatown and hamlet, n the
old ‘flne wool’ State, and if you will find Por—
cupine Corners there, I’ll treat.” ’

Mike examined the books. Each volume rep-
resented a count of the State, with the popu-
lation of each vil age, town or precinct.

t

..,_._a_-... .a ., .... .-..

_ out of it wh

 

5

 

 

He ran over these directions with a critical
glance, while Luce watched him, with a strange-
ly inquisitive expression.

List after list of names the Bowery Blood
scanned, but no expression of his hawkish fea~
tures told that he had found the place he sought

or.

He finally closed the books, and stacked them.

up on the bar.

“ No Porcupine Corners there, I am sure!’ he
said. “That settles one point in my mind.
That son-of-a-gun of a Yankee is a fraud. Are
you sure, Luce, that there isn’t some little coun-
try gathering of houses by that name?”

“ If there is, boy, it has recently sprung into
existence. I have traveled over nearly every
foot of ground in Vermont, before I came here,
two years ago, but I’ll take an oath I nevu-
heard of Porcupine Corners before.”

“Did ye ever know of such a man as Peleg
Pram-er!” he demanded.

“ No. That’s a make-u name, sure. What
are you trying ,to follow, 'ke—a false trail, or
are on overloaded ?”

“ othing of the latter !” the Bowery boy ro—
plied. positively. “ I had a pretty good jag OI
board, the early part of the evening, but I
struck a scent, and I’m smelling it up, with
clear nostrils.”

“ What’s the racket?”

“ I'd tell you, Jim. as quick as any one, but
this is a case I‘ve got to work up, on its merits,
and be rewarded, accordingly. It isn't a snap,
by any means, and ‘for a time I’ve got to go it
blind. and sift every speck carefully. ’

“All right, Mike, I approve of your spunk.
There‘s nothing like chasing the game clone,
whether you win or lose.”

“ Ri ht you be. But, Jim—"

“Ho d up a hit. D’ye See that fellow yonder,
at the back of the table? He’s had devilish poor
luck, and tile ‘ timers’ are working him forull
there‘s in him!” ‘

“Never mind him!" Manhattan Mike said,
calmly, without taking his eyes off from the
Yankee gambler‘s face. “I am not interested
in the fortunes and misfortunes of cards, just at
,the present moment. I have come to the com
clusion that you can give me a little informa-
tion on a matter of importance.”

Luce eyed him, sharply.

“ What. d’ye mean?" he demanded.

"Nothing much. I merely want to ask you
—do you. or did you ever, know a man by the
name of David Dore?”

The rapid, uninterprctable expression that
shot athwart the poker-man‘s countenance
proved that the name was familiar to him.

And, with his lynx like eyes, Manhattan
Mike took note of the fact.

!

 

CHAPTER IV.
on rail: scam.

“ You knew David Dore—you do know him!” i

he exclaimed in an undertone. “ Let me know
where he lives.”

“What d’ye want to know?" Imoe growled,
all of the habitual pleasant composure gone
out of his face, leaving a hard, cold expreuiou
there. “What d'ye want to know, a
David Dare?" _

“Simply his address, Jim. I see that in
connection with the name, you have some
secret you would not willinglly disclose. Give
me the man’s address, and willask you no
more, at present!”

A grim, threateng glitter entered the eyes
of tie gambler.In w w h d

“ re ye wor :3 a net me e emauded,
fiercely. bending over the bar. .

“ No. Luce, I am not. Only for an intuition,
caused. perhaps,‘~b knowing that you went
Vermonter, I ehou d not have suspected that
Ivjou 2were ever acquainted with the name of

are ‘

The gambler did not. appear entirely satisfied.
He knew that Manhattan Mike was literally as
keen as steel, and he eyed him, doubtfully, for
several seconds.

“Gch me an insight into why you want to
know anything about David Dore?" he said,
shrewdly. ,

“' Nary an in !” Mike decided. “ The case is
mine, not yours and if I can make anything
shouldn’t If So far as I know,
now. you wi not be interested in it, who”
your past may have been i”

“ But why do you seek information of David,
Dore?” ,

“ That. I cannot tell you, until I work up
the case.” ' ’ ‘

“You're a shrewd one. You must have
some urgent reason for wanting to know about

, K  Jun

4.. '7 .
,r

 

 
   
 

  
 
   
 
  
  
   
   
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
   
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
   
   
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
   
  
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
   
   
  
  
  
   
   
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
   
   
  
   
      
       
     
   
      
      
     
     
     
   
   
   
      
 
   

 

6 Manhattan Mike, the Bowery Blood.

him. Last I knew of him, he lived up near
Grafton, in Vermont.”

” Are you well acquainted with the people of
that immediate section?”

“I was, a few years ago.”

“You’re sure, then, that you DBVPI' heard of
sur-h a man, there, as Peleg PranCerl“

“ Positive of it. ’

“i am much obliged to you for your infor—
mation. How large a family did 'Dore have?”

“ One child—a daughter.”

“Cprrect. Did you ever know that be had
a son -

“l‘ve an idea he did, once, but believe he
died some years ago.”

“l’ell, I guess that is all I need to know
just at once. Give me a cigar and I’ll take a
skip. Join me?”

And he threw down some change, and
selected one of the cigars handed him.

“Now, then, what alnut the fellow, you
spoke about getting flecccdi"

“Ah! yes—the one at the back of the table,
yonden. He’s as reckless as blame, or he’d
plainly see he’s getting swamped. Some
tellers don’t seem to care, whether they lose
money, or not.”

Mmhattan Mike took a. careless glance at
the person indicated by the gambler—then, he
gave a perceptible start.

What strange fatality was this!

The reckless young man was a decided
counterpart, in face and general appearance,
to the photoglgaph the young detective had
received from e eg Praucerl

There could be no mistake, in this respect;
the features, the eyes, and their expression,
were the same as in the photograph.

The young man had lainly been upon a
protracted spree, for hot his face and eyes
were red from the effects of drink, and his
whole appearance spoke of a reckless regard for
himself, such as is peculiar to the average hard
drinker,

If this was Ned.- Shields, he was certainly in
bad luck, and did not appear to care whether
he lest or won.

Manhattan Mike eyed him, attentiVely, and
finally saw him draw a purse from his pocket,
and extract a single new crisp note.

“ it’s all I have left,” he said, “and if I lose
it, I'm broke. I’ll go it, however, that my
hand goes out!”

The gamblers about the table exchanged
lightning glanCes; then, one of their number

said:

“ I’ll just have to take you on that, my
friend; put up!"

The money was staked, and the gambler laid
do win his hand, in triumph.

He held everything, nearly, worth holding in
the game.

Shields threw down his cards with a curse,
and arose from the table.

“ Cleaned out!” he cried grimly. “Served
me right for being fool enough to play with a
pack of sharpersl' '

“See here!” the winner of the last stake
cried, springing to his feet' “ we don’t want no
insinuations, my friend. Any one as dares in-
timate we don’t do the square thing, generally
goes off with a cracked skull.”

“ Indeed?” Shields retorted, evidently in no
wise alarmed at the other’s frightening aspect.
“I resume likely the skullaof your previous
crac lug were somewhat softer than you’d find
mine. As for your square playing allow mete
inform on that I am perfectly well aware that
the who e gang of Von played as much as possi-
ble into each other’s hands."

“ You are a liar!” the gambler declared,
fiercely.

“You’re another!” Shields retorted, coolly,
his penetrating eyes flashing brilliantly.

The gambler, whose name was Burke Bren~
nan, uttered a. fearful oath, and bounded
forward. His onslaught appeared savage
enough to carry a larger man than youn
Shields from his feet. But the young man did
not stir out of his tracks. -

He waited until the proper 'opportunlty ar-
rived, then his flat shot out with sudden veloci-
ty and can ht the gambler between the eyes,
la ing him ack senseless upon the flOnh

ith reven aful'cries, t eother card sharps
rushed towar _ the young stranger, but they
used when Jim Luce stepped from behind the
mr and confronted them with a pair of six-
shoo rs, one in either hand. ‘

“ k!” be ordered sternly. “ None of this
sort of thing in my lace. If you want to fight,
go charter a tug an go dawn the river.”

“ We’ll punch the head off’m the dirty bla'-

guard!” one. of the sharps declared savagely.

}

3,!  ., . s . "

 

 

“ No, you won’t—not here!" Luce assured,
positively. “ You‘ve got his money, and that’s
enough. Youn man, you git out now, and I’ll
see that these fe lows don’t harm you.”

“ I’m not afraid of the whole gang!" Shields
declared pluckily.

“ Maybe not. You go, hOWever; I don’t
want any further fuss.”

“ Very well; to accommodate you, i will 0.
But recollect, it’s not because I wouldn’t like
to lay ’em all out, like I did that one sucker!”

And shaking his fist at them, heleft the room.

They would have followed, but Luce’s warn-
ing shake of the head admonished them that it

' would not be a healthy undertaking.

Manhattan Mike also quitted the poker-room,
and descended to the street. He meant, if pos-
sible, to keep track of the young Vermontcr, if
it were indeed he.

Not that it was his present intention to arrest
him, for he had little faith in what he had
learned from Peleg Prancer. Young Shields
might be a culprit, but Mike was not quite sat-
isfied that it was any of Prancer‘s business
whether he was or not.

Shields was already a considerable distance
away when Mike reached the street, and was
hurrying along rapidly down the Bowery.

Striking into a brisk gait, Mike took to the
opposite side of the street and followed. He
hoped, by keeping Shields in sight to learn
where he lodged, and thus, perhaps, the where-
abouts of the missing Gracie Prancer would be
cleared up.

Unaware that he was followad, the object of
the young detective’s search kept on steadily,
without once looking back; and Manhattan
Mike pursued as perseveringly, without once
losing sight of his man.

Through the Bowery continued the chase, into
Park Row; thence to Broadway, to Courtlandt
street, and through the latter street to the ferry-
house.

“ He’s going to Jersey City,” Mike concluded,
“and like enough is going to take the Pennsyl-
vania Railroad, to some other point. I’ll find
out, anyhow.”

Shields entered the ferry-house.

Mike remained in the rear. He saw Shields
purchase only a. ferry-ticket. He did not ap-
proach the railway ticket window, but passed
on into the inner ferry-room.

Mike then cn‘ered, purchassd a ticket, and
waited in the first apartment until the clung of
the bell announced the arrival of the boat.

He then entered the waiting room and min-
gled with th ‘ crowd,taking good care to keep out
of the sight of the young ’ermouter.

When the gate opened, there was a general
rush on board the boat, and the nth succeed-
ed in getting aboard without ‘being spied by
Shields. ‘ " “ '

As usual, when the boat steamed out from
her slip, what passengers were not in the cabins
were on the front en of the boat—with one ex-
ce t on. ‘

ed Shields remained at the rear end, looking
of! into the water as if it had a peculiar attrac-
tion to him.

The night was so densely foggy that only a few
feet from the boat could the human eye reach.
and a constant succession of whistles were heard
from the various crafts lying upon the river——
precautionary a: his, w ereby collisions could
better be avoid .

Manhattan Mike stood in the shadows of the
carria 9-way, watching his man like a hawk.
iIi-a m ad was already made up inregard to
what was Shields’s purpose—~that his objective
destination was not J ersey City, but a watery
grave. ', , ,
When about in mid-sires. . Mike saw him
raise his eyes heavenward, seal]? he were uttering
a rayer.

'ith a swift and stealthy stride. the detective
reached him. and firml seiz-d his arm just as
he was about to make t is fatal leap.

“ I wouldn’t, m friend. if I were you!" Mike
said. quiet‘Y- “ he fish get plenty of better
bait than you, and the Morgue supplies more
floaters than the hospital dissecting-rooms can
use up, you can bet. So there’s no room for

ou.’

Shields wheeled about, with an engrv eXcla-
gilaggp, and evxdently recognized the owery

“ Let go my arm !” he cried, savagely. “' What
d’ye mean by interfering in what don’t concern
you. you in—” ' ,

“Tut, tut! no back talk!" Mike interrupted.
“ If you don’t want me to arrest on for at-
tempted suicide. you behave yourse f like a Ply-
mouth church deacon. Here comes one of the
boat-hands.”

 

 

.-_.... H. W . . .-_4

The admonition appeared to have a wonderful-
ly soothing effect on the young man, so Mike re-
leased his grasp.

The boat—hand, in passing, eyed them sharply,
but s edily returned to the front.

“ ’hy did you interfere?” Shields demanded,
again, when they were alone. ‘

“ Because I don’t like to see a nice fellow
make u confounded idiot out of himself Without
cause.”

“ You little know what cause I’ve had.” .

“Mebbe not; again, mebbe I know consider-
ably more about it than you think 1 do, Mr.
Shields!” .

No perce ible sign did the young man evmco
that he he ever heard the name before.

“ I presume ou’ve mistaken me for‘some
other person,” e said. with unrufl‘led com-

ure. “ My name is Gresham—George Gres—
’7

“Oh! is iti Now, Neddy, my chum, I don’t
look like a greenhorn, do Ill—don’t look like as
if I'd eat cream biscuit and think they were
plum-puddin’, do I!”

“ I don’t understand you.”

“You do! Ye can‘t fool me. You take me
for a re ular Weehawken flat, you do.”

“ Not ing of the kind, air, but 1 must ddmit
that your actions are somewhat eccentric.”

" Oh! you‘re a 00d ’un, on are! 'But,
Neddy, it won’t was . You‘re ward Shields,
of Grafton, Vermont, or thereabouts, an’ there’s
no sort of use of your trying to deny lt!”_

The would-be-suicide uttered .a metallic sort
of laugh, that but strengthened Manhattan
Mike’s convictions. ' .

"I am sorry I cannot agree With you, my
friend. You are either laboring under an at-
tack ef dementia, or else are odtrugeously mis-
taken. Geo‘rge Gresham is my name, and don’t
you forget that.”

" Oh! well' if that’s the case, I’m on the
wrong track! ’ Mike said, apologetically.

“Nothing more positive!" Gresham assure-i.
“ Ah! here we are at the ferry-slip. And 1 am
still alive. I hardly know whether to thank
you or not

“Oh! suit yourself about that. If you con-
template attempting suicide again, I hope you
will first recollect that Green is here in the
city, looking for you i”

" The. devil, you say—”

He suddenly checked himself, and looked
confused. »

Mike lau hed triumphantly. ' v

“ Now, t ere! I thought I’d trip you, heddy.
dear, though you were ever so careful, you
knovVl"

“Confound youl What do you know about
heri” the young man demanded, frowning
“ Out with it, or I’ll throw you over-

“Oh. don’t be so awesome! You don’t make
even a two-Cent shiver run down my spine, and
don’t forget that. If you want to know any
thing about your darling Gracie, all ou’ve got
todo is go back to New York Wit, me, un—
bosom yourself, and we’ll compare notes,
Come! let’s at off! No, stay here. We will go
back on this at!"

“ What, without paging fare!” ,

“Cert. Live in ew York as l as 1
have, and you’ll catch onto the ropes, I‘ guar-
antee." ‘

“ Who are you!”

” Manhattan Mike, the Blood 0’ the Bower ,
and as gallus a h’hoy as you often pick up.
oither’ words, more to the point, Im a detec—
t ve.

An assurance which did not seem to favorably
impress the Vermonter.

“ What d’you think you’re going to make by
dogging moi" he growled, his ormer fleroeuess
returning. - '

“That isn’t decided yet. I believe!” Mike re-

lied, composedly. “it altogether depends on
how you pan out, 1:) friend. If you bed as
the scales, at good oneat welxbtflill ma be
right. if theres too much allo and also lag
of good coin, thin may be d erent."

Gresham, or Sh elds which ever he was, us- '

tel-ed another of his metallic lau ha.

“ There’s one thingbyou’ll find ’3: not lacking
in!" he hissed, as wit lightning-like agilitv the
“ wanted ” man sprung upon thaBowery’Blood,
and lifting him bodily in the air, as though he
had been an infant, flung him overboard, in
the path of the boat, which was beginning
to move out from her pier, into the stream.

There was no or ; simply a splash; then
Gresham darted bac into the Carrie 'way, in,
the nick of time to esCape being seen several

«angers, who came out from the cabin, to

be fore part of the boat. ‘

 
    

 

4n- ,‘umv.-. - ..

' 

 

 

1 fi; .00
.  an

 

\

  

Manhattan Mike, the Bowery Blood.

Gresham joined them directly. He was pale,  for lovo or money ;—it was his talisman: That

but otherwise strangely composed.

The boat was already passing over the spot
where Manhattan Mike had struck the water.

A hundred chancos to one, he had been
drawn in under the wheels, and crushed to
death.

“00! they’ll hound me, will they!” the Ver-
monter muttered under his breath. “ More than
(me, then, shall pay a hard penalty for his folly.
New York is a big place to find a man iul”

CHAPTER V.
man‘s NEW TRAIL.

MANHATI‘AN MIKE, through the experiences
of an eVenful career, had learned one valuable
lesson, and practically perfected himself in it—
that was, in a. time of emergency, to think and
act with rapidity.

Therefore. when he found himself going down
into tlm river, he knew his danger was imminmt
—-—not, particularly, because he could not swim,
for there were few better men-fish than he in
the city; but he was aware that unless he got
out of the sli in an incredibly short space of
time, he woul be run down by the New Bruns-
wick, which was the name of the huge craft
from which he had been hurled.

The distanoeto where he could round the piles
and get out of the path of the boat was not
great to the eye; yet to swim it would require
some lively work, as the great wheels of the
boat were already beginning to churn the water
into a foaming vortex.

“Sink or swim!" came to Mike‘s mind, and
he struck o t manl‘ull y.

_Never be are did he put fOrth as much exor-
tion as now. ,

On-onl his head making but a tiny speck in
the dark water, and the great monster sweeping
after him, as if eager to ride him down. He
could see the passengers at the front of the
boat, but they saw him not. To be sure, a or
for help might have attracted attention, but t
is doubtful if it would have done any good, as
the boat could not have been instantly stopped.

On—onl He felt a terrible suction of water
tugging at him, as if to pull him backward, in
under the wheels. The broad prow of the boat
was hovering close over him.

“ My God! I’m lostl" he thought.

No! he would make a superhuman effort!

110 did! He reached the and of the piling on
the right hand of the crib, and whirled partly
around it. He could go no further, for the
olther boat loomed up, speeding into the next
s up.

All he could do was to throw his arms about
the outer pile and cling to it, and this he did
with desperate strongt .

It was his salvation.

When the New Brunswick was out of the slip
he swam across and still further on , down-
stream, and soon struck the docking a few rods

' below the ferry-house.

Kn0wing well he would attract attention if
he attempted to cross,on the terry again, he
was at a on what to do, after clamberin out
of the water, but finally, Seeing no other p on to
pursue, he bolted into the terry-house, pur-
meed his ticket, and got aboard the next

0.. .
Several curious ones asked him how he got
wet. but in each case he answered them evasive-
ly, so that they not no satisfaction.
Ongeaehitng the “law York this he made his
,wa yun uen stroe to islodi i
Heoyt‘or “th t8, 8 up n

The next morning h. we: abroad bri ht and
early. and looked none the worse for his ucking
the previous night. He had been bafllyd mm.
ingly, at the befinning of the case; but the fact
on nerved‘ h m to a greater resolution, in

ass duously stick to the troll until he had un-

raveled the mystery.
As yet he could see no clear way ahead, and
he was pretty well satislled that he had tackled

a harder ’ob than any other he had eVer under-
-' taken. 9 knew, howeVer, that many a detec-

tive had worked himself up to fame and fortune

by following the merest shadow of a clew; why
could be not do the camel
To be sure, he had no present surety of get-
. ting paid. or even of being thanked, for his
ed‘orts. but he knew he had sufllcieut money to
carry him through for awhile, and by the time
it was exhausted something, "Micawber’ -llke,
, might turn hp. ll’ not it would not he the first
 time in his experience ihat he had been reduced
~ in his finances to a single cent. ‘
' This cent—an ancientodated, old-fashioned
r—he had worm-suspended to a small—
eiigo d chain, about his neck, ever since he
* g..ch remember. He would not part with it

 

there was any special significance in its passes—
Sion he was unable to say, as he had never
known his parents—~‘nis earliest recollection
dating back to a period when he was a tiny
street waif, supporting himself by selling new s~
pa \ers.

in the case now before him, he was fully de-
termined to leave no stone unturned, until he
had sifted out all that was possible to learn of
old Peleg’s game, of Miss Gracie’s history, and
Ned Bhields’s roguery.

Bright and early, therefore, he sought the
nearest telegraph office, and swat the following
message:

“ To l’os'ruis'ran, Grafton, I'm mont. :—

“ Dons man live there named David Dore. or Pelee
Prancer? ls man wanted normal Ed ward Shields or
George Uri-sham? Mum .llfsveaica,

“ chti Cc."

He then lounged about the office, unlil he
thought an answer ought to reach him, and sure

1 enough, he not one.

It was worded as follows:

“M. Mavnmcx. [Medina—Do not know the-upstr-
ties named, nor of them. , l’. 

“ Just as I thought,” Mike muttered. “ There’s
a deep-seated game have, now I Imowit. Mr.
David Dore and I’eleg I’rancer are both very
mysterious gentlemen. They are both playing
a acne."

membering that he was to see David Dore
at nine, he at once set out for the Astor House.
If he found the gentleman, it was barely possi-
ble that he might learn something applying to
the case, even if it were but little. \

He found Dore’s name upon the register, and
,opposite it, “ Grafton, Vermont."

His room was 

Mike hesitateda few minutes; then sent up
his card. I '

He was not pOsitive whether he should profit
by forming Mr. Dore’s acqu lintance or not.

The hotel boy soon returned, and Mr. Dore ac-
companied him.

He was a good—looking, well-preserved man
of five-and-l’orty, robust of figure, and on the
whole, rather prepossesslng of appearance. He
was niCely .lrlwell, and seemed at least to be a
person who was well-to- lo.

He eyed Manhattan Mike sharply, as he an
prosched, as if "sizing " him up. .

" You wished to see me!" he interrogated, in
a pleasant tone. ,

“Yes, sir—that is, if you are Mr. David
Dore?" _ I

"That is my name, sir. What can I do for
you, may I ask?”

“ I called to'see vou in reference to your want
of a young man—J

“Ah, yes! yes! I see. The fruit girl recom-
mended you. Come into the readingroom.”

They were soon sated opposite each other.
with a table between them, and Dore produced
some fragrant cigars.

“I was expecting you.” heosaid, by way of
breaking a momentary silem-e, during which
he had regarded Mike intently. " l sup e
you think you are competent to fill the bill! ’

" Judging fr0m what Nora told me, I presume
very likely I can suit you. I don‘t often go to
sleep over a job."

“ That’s what i like to hear. When l employ
a person I o xpect him to he wide-awake. Haw-
you even done detective work?"

“On a small scale. What is the nn'nre (if

our case!" and with a professional air. Mn»

 

attan Mike took a note-hick and pencil from 1

his pocket, and made readv to jlt down any
notes he thought worth while.

" My casamn Le summed up in a few Words
-—6 girl missing."

"Yes? The name, please-”

“ Dora G. Dore."

" Your daughter?” ,

“ Yes-that is, my adogted daughter.”

“Forhow long as s e Been your adopted
daughter!"

“Since infancy. I took her from a foundling
asylum, in Boston. sixteen years ago."

“ Her age consequently is—”

“A little over seventeen.”

ffllow lo g has she been missing!”

“Two w ks, today.”

“ What are the circumstances of her flight—
as llhfer that she fled from our homel”

“She did. and Very sud enly at that. She
stole own in the dead of night and when we
discover-e her flight no trace whatever could
be found of her.”

“ Did she leave nothing behind relatin to the
cause of her flight? Was she content w th her
home and surroundings!”

 

 

 

“Perfectly so. The only clcw she left behind
was this note.” ,

He handed Manhattan Mike 8. llalf‘sheet of
note paper, upon which was wri:tan the follow-
ing. in a good band:

“ Drum Para-By the time this is found I shall be
far away. Why l mu going, I cannot explau‘l to
you, and you will Ilever know. Do not seek to know

or to find me, for it will be uselch .
It  .5

The chirography was alike to that in the ,
letter Manhattan Mike had receiwd from Peleg
Franc/or! . There could be little doubt but What
one person had written both letters.

Mike was puzzled. and knew his lace betrayed
the fact, but Mr. Dore evidently did not take
notion of the fact.

“ Let me see. You liv» at Grafton, Vermont,
I beieve?” Mike proceeded.

“ I do, sir.”

“ And your adopted daughter fled from
there?”

“ She did.”

“What business are you engaged in, Mr.
Dore?”

“ I am it farmer, but on rather a retired scale,
however." .

“That is to say, you have a plenty of the
world’s goods?"

“ Certainly.
the case.”

“Perhaps not. We detectivps have a great
he hit of asking questions, you know. Did your
daughter move in society, or have any particu-
lar gentkmen friends?”

“ None. She was always at home.”

“ What were your relations to hex—fatherly,
or loverly’!”

“Well, of late years, 1 have grown to look
forward to a day when 1 could make her my
wife ’

“ Did she know this?”

“ Yes. I think she favored my suit—or
would have done so had 1 made a formal decla—
ration.”

 you know who were the parents of the

r .

g“ i do not. She had been taken in by the In-
stitution as a nameless waif.”

“ Have _) on any idea where she went to?"

“ It is my opinion she came here. She was]
very ambitions to work, although 1 always kept
her Well supplied with money, and i once heard
her say she would like to work in one of the
great stores in this city.” .

Manhattan Mike took a note of this.

“ Have you a picture of her?” he asked.

“ Yes. Here it is. She is a very pretty girl.”

Mike nodded, as he gazed at the photograph.

In his picket he carried a duplicate of it.

“ A face that, once seen, could not easily be
forgotten!” he said. “ Are you aware, Mr.
Dore, of having any enemies who could have
an object in abducting her?" .

“ No, indeed! I don’t know that I have a foe
on the face of the earth.”

Manhattan Mike was silent a few moments,
glancing owr his notes and thinking.

“Well, Mr. Dore, I suppose you want to find
this irli” . '

“ do. indeed. If I succeed in so doing, it
will be the realization of one of my foudest
ho =5.” -

RI suppOSe you must have some ulterior ob-
j ct—snmolhing more than your actual interest
in. the girl. That alone could hardly tempt you
i. follow. her up, especially when her flight
proved that she cared nothing'lor you?”

“You misconstrue my motiVes. I want to
save the poor- chi.d from a his of drudgery,
perhaps of temptation and sin. Besides, the
look with hvr some papers that are of great
value to me.”

" Ah! what Were thy?"

“Merely papers of personal importance to
me, hut in no way touching upon the matter of
the girl. Why she should have taken them I
cannot understand."

“Well, Mr. Dore, do you want me to take
hold of the case?" .

“i do, yes. If you find Dara for me, you
shall be well rewarded.”

Manhattan Mike uttered a peculiar laugh.

“I dare say you won’t find any New York
detectiVes who will do your jaband depend on
their success for their  At least, I shall
want a liberal sum down fore i can under-
take it.” >

“ How muchl”

“Not less than a couple of hundred dollars,
which I will need for incidental ex see.”

“Var Well‘ you shall have it. When will
you set work at the case!” I ‘

, “Tlla. depends upon circumstances. Ishnn

But this does not touch upon

. .
-.~..-;..;.:..  w ' .

 , o
".

‘-* smurf": ~ .t

    

 
   

 

firs: require to know who you are, sir, and where
you rcsxde.” ,

Dore started violently. ‘

“ What do you mean i" he demanded angrily,
his face flushing.

“I mean that, did I know where to find the
girl this minute, I should not turn her over to
you until I had some proof of who and what
you are, as a guarantee of good faith.”

“ You are insulting, young man! Have 1 not
already told you about myself?"

“ You havo told me a falsehood 1" Manhattan
llikg ret’urned promptly and fearlessly.

' A 11‘!

' 0.), don’t look as if you could bite my head
oll’. for I ain’t one of the skeery kind: You will
perhaps be surprised to know that another party
is wantin this same girl, under a different
name. Be ievlng him a schemer, I refused to
have anything to do with him. When I heard
about you, it rather struck me you might be
another of the same breed; so I sent a tele-
gram to Grafton to inquire about. you and
I’rancer.” '

“ Prancer?"

“Yes, Prancer. That‘s t’other fellow. Here
is the reply I received.”

David Dore took the tele ram and glanced
over it. His face was flush .

“ You are reall too cute to livel" he uttered
grimly, when be ad perused it. “ It don’t mat-
ter, however. I’ll give you five thousand dollars
cash to find me that girl, no matter who I am
or where I livel”

Manhattan Mike eyed the man curiously. It
was evident the missing girl was more to Dore
than to Praucer, and that the former was in
dead earnest.

He meant to have her if money could ascer-
tain her whereabouts. .

“ I shall have to consider,” Mike returned; “ I
will let you know my decision some time to-
morrow.” .

He then arose, and bowed himself out of the
bogus Vermonter’s presence.

—-fi-——-

C’HAPTER VI.
was “ FIND."

MANHATTAN MIKE had long Wished to get on
favorable terms with the chief of the detective
police of the city, but had hitherto been unable
to gain anything like afriendly footing either
.with him or Su rintendent Walling owing'tc
the fact that etective Bob Driscoll was im-
mensely popular with the olioe captains of the
different precincb, and in uenced them against
the young Bowery Blood; and they in turn,
gave Mike no favorable airing to the higher
officers.

Despite this, however, Manhattan Mike was
well‘knowntoall, and made it a point to so
keep himself before the officers of the several

recinctl that there should be no possibility of

is bein for otten.
Imaggie hfis surprise then, when, later that

day, he was accosted by Superintendent Wal-
ding, as he was passing through City Hall
square.
, “ Good-afternoon, éonng man. A. word with
you i” the dignified o cial said.

Mike lpaused, with a bow, and awaited in re-
spectfu silence. , I

“ I hear you have been giving Driscoll a
black 0 l” the superintendent continued, rather
severe .

“Is hat so? I haven’t seen him since he
pitched onto me and got laid out. He was fresh
enough to s pose I d let him bully me, and got
left—that’s a l."

“1 am sorry for the trouble, and hope noth-
ing of the sort will occur again. Driscoll is one
of our shrewdest men, and We shall miss him, as

- he will not Come out of—doors a sin for sewral
days. The blow has all upset h m."

° Can’t help it. Maybe he will know better
than to pick me up for a fool, (again. By the
way. firfl’ve done several little eserv‘in jobs
for the city—one or two of which, Driscol has
received the credit of delta . Don t on think I
ought to have a badge, ha ed by a ittle power

_ to not!"

Therel It was out, and Manhattan Mike was
find of it, no matter what answer might follow.

9 had long had it in mind teask for an author.
ind tion, and he knew if any man could
getit for him, Walling could.

“ It was in reference to having you work up
a little matter that I accosted you. Where do

you live?”

‘ Mike ve him a card, with his address
scrib onthehdckcfit.
‘ « “I’m usually to be found there, when I’m
‘ potramln’about town!" -

\

. 3:. '3‘. "was... ....1 .1," ...,_.ML_ .mrdnxxyt ’1‘ _‘4_. g” _ a. 

\

Manhattan Mike, the

 

flurry v v“. 5%., .- ‘a‘v .  . .

“W'ell, this is what I have to say: It has
been brought to my notice that. despite all ar-
rests recently made, and the absence of a cer-
tain man from the city, there is stilla large
traffic being done, in the sale of lottery tickets.
The mayor has, consequently, ordered that
strenuous measures be taken to break up this
nefarious business, and rid the city of it, as
quickly as possible.”

“ Yes, sir. How do you propose to do it,
may I ask!” .

“ There is but one way to accomplish much—-
that is, to once more hunt up and arrest those
dealing'in the fraud. Several detectchS have
been detailed to look up the matter, but have
thus far failed to find a case."

Manhattan Mike laughed quietly.

“It isn‘t often a detecLiVe gives away all he

knows, when a millionaire corporation keeps-

I)!

plenty of greenback ‘soothing-syrup’ afloat
he said, dryly.

“I hardly like your insinuation, young man.
So far as we are able to judge, believe we
have a special force admirable for honesty and
integrity. Then, too,I find, by inquiry, that
you are quite likely to be better posted in re-
gard to lottery and policy-dealers than every
Bohemian one meets."

" Perhaps I could name a few 2” Mike replied,
nonchalantly. "

“ Why have you not reported them, at head-
quarters, then?"

“ Ilecause, bein naught but a private detec-
tiVe, 1 did not fee called Upon to wage a per-
sonal war on a class of men. who. at best» are
n isavory characters. But, with the commis-
sion of a detective, and the pay thereof. to-
gether with the backing of the city authorities,

could at your sleuths on the track of eight or
nine tic et dealers, almost within the shadow of
your City Hall!"

The superintendent looked incredulous.

"' If you can do that, lose no time about it,

oung man!"

“I‘ll tell you what I’ll do: you Secure me a
commission as a regular, and I’ll tell you the
name of ten dealers and where they can be
found. " I will not, however, partici te in
their arrest, as they’ve ials who’d ma 9 New
Yorkntoo hot for me and can’t be spared just
now.

“Give me the names. Pro r men shall be
set to work the matter up, an if they are suc-
cessful you will receive your badge and papers
to night."

Without further hesitancy Mike wrote out
the us mes and “dens” of such lottery-agents as
he knew, on a leaf of his notebook, and gave it
to the superintendent, who received it with a
bow, and the two parted.

The Blood realized that he was doing a r-
fectly pro )OI‘ thing, because he had long fe t it
to be his uty to give up the several sharpens
who were swindling greenhorns out of money
in more than one way than through means of
the “ Louisiana lottery.”

Then, too, the advantage of being promoted
to a “ regular,” with the power and pay belong—
ing to the position, Was an advantage not to be
despised.

The balance of the day he spent, in idling
about town, in a questioning ’mood. How to
gain further clcws in working up the case of
the missing irl, was apuzzler to him. That
nothln cou d be elicited by bothering with
either avid Dore, or l’ele Prancer, seemed
certain—yet where could e expect to find
anvthlng to help him, in any other source?

New York was a big city wherein to search
for one girl and she, too, evidently trying to
lose herself from being found.

He did not desire to make an attempt at find-
ing her, in any of the stores, until he was -
sessed of his badge, which would secure iim
more privileges, than though he had nope.

About five o‘clock in the afternoon he visited
his lodgings, and there found a lar e ofilcial-
looking envelope, which contained h s commis-
sion-blank and badge-the former to be executed
and returned, whereupon hawould be duly in-
stalled as a “n-gular.’

As he had yet some time to mare, he placed
this bad e under the lapel of his vest and sallied
forth. mong the places he visited were the
larger dry goods and trimming establishments,
among them Denninz’s, Macy‘s. Ehrich’s Simp-
son, Crawford and Simpson’s, O‘Neil’s, eam’S.
and Jones’s, and simply through possessing his
badge, was be able to sin access to the books
containing the names 0 all the emplovaes. But
he failed to find either the name of re Dore
or Gracie Prancer. ‘ .

AI closing time prevanted a further searc .
he concluded that nothing more could be done

Bowery Bloodm “

’ing as the ordinary youu

 

,......._._ "non——

.._ . q.- »_-__._...—._.

until the morrow, when he must visit the es-
tablishments f ther down town.

Fatiguud wit what he had done in the way
of travel during the day, he started back for
his lodgings early, resolved to get a good night’s
rest.

Then, too. he rather expected he would re-
ceive a cell from Nora. She often dropped, in,
for a little chat, as they had known each other
since childhood.

He was passin along the Bowery, which was
densely thronge ,whcn his foot kicked sonic—
thing, and be perceived it was a pocket-book—
one of the long, side-pocket sort.

Happening to have his handkerchief in his
hand, he dextrously dropped it so it cowred
the wallet, and steeping
jammed them into his pocket, and hurried on,
without any one paying particular attention to

“II.

Within the Securit of his own apartment he
was soon seated, wit the prize laid out on
him.

“ No )oor man lost thisl” he muttered, as he
took 0 the rubber strap, which held .it shut.
“There’s money in here, and loads of it, too, I
reckon."

The wallet contained two hundred and fifty
dollars in bank-notes, of ten dollars denomina-
tion each, and a few dollars in change. There
were also a number of slips of paper, unen-
veloped notes, and postal cards—also a sealed,
stamped letter, directed to “ Stephen Dore, No.
3- 120th street, city.”

“ By Jehosaphat Johnson! Here’s another
clew, at last, and if I don't work something out
of this, I’m a royal rhinoceros from Rantoull
Stephen Dore, hag? That sounds respectable,
alongside of Davi , though I b’lieve David was
a Bible hero— t intoa lion‘s cage, or somethin
of the sort. to henl Let me see: Stephen is
rich, and marri —-and is oin’ to die—or lost a
child, years ago—or—or— ang i I’m as deep
in the mud as ever. I must examine.” '

He went over the other papers and postal
cards, carefully, and considerately.

There were three postala

One was post-marked Chicago and addressed
to “Leonard Lentonville, est-Office, New
York.” It read as follows:

“ Len: - Things loom up no better. The change, to
there, is imperative. The M—-— has offered big.

“Law.”

The second card was to the same address, and
bore the following:

“ Linn-It is useless to delay longer. Expect and ‘
look. RAGGED."

The third was to “Mr. Tracy Travis, No. —-
120th street, city.” Postmark, New York.

It simply said:

“ Meet me. at Grand Central Hotel at once.

“01311.11.”

Manhattan Mike was as acute of understand-
man,but he had to
scratch his head reflective y (war the contents of,
the cards, and turn to the papers for relief.

They were of no importance with one ex
lion, being recei ts rom different parties
Tracy Travis. T eexcc on was a document
couched in the following angnage: ,

“ mum—I think all is safe. I have sounded the r
depths, and got a general idea of what to expect.‘
As to the her, there is nothing more to Npolgt. ,

‘ AVE. '

This was all there was of im rtance, exce t
that upon the lapel of the walle book, were t
initials, “T. T." -

“ That means Tracy Travis,” Manhattan Mike
commented, deliberately. "‘Trac , the M,
dropped this boodle, and is no don evmnow
monrningr over its loss. Let me see.

Travis! hat is the name of the mower who
got Nora into Macy‘s." v

“You bet it was Mike,” a votes cried. and
the dooro ened, and Nora herself entered the
room. “ a, he! I caught you talking to your. 1
self again.W0h my! where did you get that

ocket-boo ’ . .
p “ Amen the ancient tian ruins.” Mike’

re lied, nickly putting it n is Epcket. “Ax
mg no qgestions, me darllnt, and ll tell you no

“95'; n irate you’ve been wrecking
“ vas on p _

some shipl'ycried North, tragically striking an
attitu e.

“ Oh! you can bet on that 1” Mike responded.
“ How’s caliker sellin‘ terday, Nora!”
“ Bully. like! The foreman 89d I did 1:“

elegant. I got away with thirty dollars, war“ ,
brie, all in one lump. You e."

of r-cam
calculate I’m solid at Macy’s, tom”,
“ Don‘t be too sure, Nora.”

“But I am! I sha’n‘t stay there long, Inshhe.

picked both up, 

   

9

 

   
  
    
 
  
  
    
  

 

 

        

 
    
   

 

 

A

 

 

 

111'. Travis hinted that if I wanted to we might
get married pretty soon, and I could live in a
brown-stone house, and have servants. Obi
you bet he’s a dais l” ‘-

“ And you’re a 001!" Mike declared. bluntly.
“ Whg, on crazy girl, can’t you plainly see
that e s an unscrupulous villain, whose sole
aim in knowing ygu is to entrap you?”

“‘Oh, no, nol e is too nice a gentleman to
have any wrong intentions, Mike. He is per-
fecll lovaly."

” ou’ll rind our mistake when too late,”
Mike ritted. ‘ If I see the snoozer, you can
bet I‘ sp’ile some ofhis loveliness."

“ If yOu touch him, Mike, I‘ll never speak to
V on.”

“ Then you won’t, that’s all. By the way, do

you know a- girl at Macy’s named either Dora
Dore or Gracie Pranceri”
“ No- I ain‘t much ac uainted. Only know
one —a new-comer, lifie myself. The hands
that ave been there awhile, look down on late
arrivals as if they were of no account."

" What’s this one girl‘s name?"

“Carrie Chase.”

“ BelOng in the city i”

“No; but she didn’t tell me where she came

rem.” ‘

“Ah! Does this picture look like her?" and
he showed her the picture he had received from
Peleg Prhcer.

Nora uttered a surprised exclamation.

“ Why, that’s Carrie, as sure as the world.
Where did youga her picture?"

“ Never min where. I am working up a
case in which she is concern. She is a wanted
person. You keep mum and help me. To-mor-
row night I want you to bring her here.”

"Mebbe she won’t come."

"But she will, though, if you tell her that
you want her to accompany you tosee apar-
ticular friend."

" Well, I’ll try. When shall we come?"

“Tomorrow evening at ei ht. Be sure to
fetch her here, and I will in 9 it worth your
while.”

Conversation drifted onto other topics, and a
man who had been crouching in a listening at-
1itude, in the hall, by the door, stole cautiously

:1 way.
it was Bob Driscoll, detective!

 

CHAPTER VII.
A navnnarxoa.
Am Nora’s d arture Manhattan Mike re-
tired for the nigh , in order to be rested pre-
parato to a hard day‘s work on the morrow.

Although he had noidea just how his case was,

oing to end, he knew that he had struck a trail
n the finding of the pocketbook, which was
likely to be worth following.

There were two persons whom he must inter-
view, hesides Dora Dore, or, as she was now
known, Carrie Chase. They were Stephen Dore
and Tracy Travis.

Just what connection the might have with
the case was not clear, but at some connection
they (iii! have, the detective was perfectly well
£3 E ,

' fter a hasty breakfast the next morning,

' Mike took a ride up to the Hotel Devonshire

and made an inquiry after Mr. Peleg rancer.
Mr. Prancer had taken his dc rture, stated
the clerk; it was not known whet or he had left

' the city or not.

“ L resume notl” was Mike’s decision, as he
pans out of the hotel. “ In fact. I hardly know
what to make of Mr. Prancer. He iseven more
of a uzsle than Davy Dore,”

Be g so far up-tewn, he concluded to kill two
birds with one stone, and call upon Stephen
Bore. .

On arrival at the correct address, he found
there an elegant and imposing mansion, plainly
the home of some man of considerable wealth.

A servant answered the bell—a real ton -
looking African, who assured the caller, in t
bland”: of tones, that Mr. Stephen Dore did re-

side there, but was not in.
Mike knew it was yet earl in the morning
for a retired nabob to be out, ut, as the dorky

waspositive about the matter, what cotfld he do

' about it?

“ Is Tracy Travis in?” Mike asked.
‘? What on want of himr’ the servant de-

manded untly.. ,

‘ 7‘ Look-co here! .I want to see Travis, you
black skunki and it’anane of your business what
for neither Are you going to admit me, or
shall I pitch you handover-heels out of doors!”

“ Mam Travis am not int" Pompey protested.

‘ V i .9 in: call, uh, some oddor time.
 ‘1 ‘V, “Infant, ,what's

the trouble?" called a voice

 

from inside. “1f it’s any one to see me, Show
the person in, of course.7

Julius scowied, but 0 sued the vestibule door
wide enough to allow . ike to en er.

"Step right into de parlor, sahl” he said,
throwing open a side door. “ Find Marse
Travis there, sah.”

Mike obeyed.

Tue parlor was a magnificently furnished
room, but was so darkened as to shroud all its
objects in half gloom.

A young nun was sitting in a luxurious easy-
chair with a newspaper spread out before him,
while a young woman was reclining upon
a sofa, and Wes COVul’ed up with a rich oriental
shawl, in such a way that none of her features
were visible to Mike’s keen gaze.

Mr. Travis was a dapper individual of de-
cidedly “dudieh” ap arunca, and, although he
was Well dressed an rather good-looking, there
was an air of snobbishness about him that one
would hardly fancy in a respectable business
man.

He nodded, without arising, at Mike’s en-
trance.

“ Be seated, sir. Excuse our servant—I sel-

dom am in forenoons, hence his mistake. What
can ldo for you Mr. Maverick 2”

Manhattan Mi e was electrified.

How came he to be known to this rson,
whom he could not re lumber of OVer aving

seen before? .

“ I called on a little matter of business, sir—
that is, if you are Mr. Travis. It seems, how—
ever, that on have an advantage over me, in
previously nowing my name.”

“Oh! yes. You were once pointed out to me
as being a promising young detective I, too,
have heard a young friend of mine mention
you."

“ You refer to Nora?”

"I do.”

“ it is partly on her account, Mr. Travis, that
I want to see you. She has been telling me of
you, and having for a long time kept a riendlv
eye on her, I want to know what you are up to?”

Keen and to the oint were the tones of the
Bowery Blood, show ng that he was thoroughly
in earnest.

Tracy. Travis‘s face flushed, and a hard glitter
entered his e es.

“1 don't now what right you have to in-
trude here, sir, for the purpose of demanding to
kn0w cowerning what is none of your business!”
he cried hotl .

“I have the business, sir, of looking well to
it that no harm comes to that orphan girl,”
cried Mike, sternly, “ through the dishonorable
intentions of one who, but for an evil purpose,
would never stoop to notice her.”

“ You spleak altogether too fast, young man.
You had rst better prove that my intentions
are not perfectly good and honorable, before
you exercise your mouth quite so freely!"

“ Do you mean to say it is your intention to
rnarr her, then i"

“ l I choose to do sol”

“ If you choose to do so, eh!" .

“ That's what I said. I believe. If I don‘t
choose, 1 shall not. I don’t know it to be a
matter of compulsion either wav.”

“ You will find out differently, perhaps, Mr.
Travis. Let me give you fair warning, now.
And you will do well to heed iii If ever it
comes to my hearing that you have not acted
honorably toward that Fir , I’ll have your life,
if I hang for it the next ustantl"

“ Very dramaticall delivered I” Travis
cheered. “You shoul study up in tragedy.
I suppose I may now consider our interview at
an end." _

‘“ Not yet, clear Travis: I rather revel in
mr society. I thought I‘d call and ask if she

arrived etl.”

“Whom 0 on mean—what do you mean,
sir! You.spea in riddles.”

“Out I guess not. I mean our foreign
friend, called ‘Ilulu,’ ‘ Ragged,’ ‘ amille' and
so forth I” v '

'I‘réavisfiittel-edI an oath. f d k

“ y “even on ave oun m et-
book, havm’t youi’ he gasped.  poo

“ I don’t know. Is your name Leonard Len-
tonvilie!”

“No, it is not. There Were articles to such
an address in my pocket-book, however.”

“What were 1: ey doing there! That is em-
phatically what I want to know.”

“ It is emphatically none of your business.”

“Then if that’s the case. you‘ll t no pocket-

k. on see, my dear Travis, e fact of the
mm” is. you are liable to get yourself into
a peczlliariy unenviable box if you don’t go
smoot ‘ ‘

 

Manhattan Mike, the Bowery 9

 

“ Do you think so? I am surprised to hearit.
Could you enlighten me as to your meaning
once more?”

an eve-opener!”

“ 0 so. My curiOSity is great 1"

Travis was provokingly cool. Manhattan
Mike could have choked him with agood will.

“ \Vcll, I wished to know how the thing was
working,” Mike returned, as if be fully under-
stood the subject he was talking on, “ so I paid
a visit to Pruncer after his arrival here. and
one to David. They were both anxious u. get
the girl, but were not up to the requirements
with collat’. Therefore, couldn’t do anything
for ’91:] l"

Travis ground out a dry cough, and eyed his
visitor sulleuly—viciously. ,

“ 1 Sec llainly that you’re censiderably in the
dark," he observed. “If you‘ve undertaken to
stick your [1056: into a furnace, don’t blame any
one but yourself if it gets singed ofi‘.”

“0h, certainly not! 1 rather despeired of
working out the biz, on the slender thread I
had first. but I feel considerably assured to-day.
After an interview with Mr. Stephen Don, I
presume the-re will be less of a mystery for me
to work up than nowi"

“ You had better not fool around Mr. Stephen
Dore, or you’ll get hurt l" Travis advised, savage-
ly. “ Furthermore, I presume, you’ll learn
that you‘ve been rubbing against the wrong
porcupine, ere lon .”

“If I do I shan’t have to visit Porcupine
Corners!” Mike laughed, arising. “ I’ll bid you
goodday, sir. Bear in mind my warning about
Nora l"

“ Your warning. as you call it, will not have
a passing consideration,” Travis replied. “So
there Will be no further possible reason why
you should call here again!

Mike did not reply, but quitted the house and
returned down-town, feeling that he he de-
rived little satisfaction from his morning’s per»
formances.

He had little idea that he was fOIIOwed. until
he entered a concert garden, near Union
Square, for the purpose of seeing who might be
lounging there. ‘

After purchasin a cigar, and taking a look
around, he was a lit leaving, when he felt I
tap on the shoulder, and saw to his anionic!»
ment, that he was confronted b Julius, the
waiting servant of the Dore mans on.

“Why, hello, stow~black—what are you do-
ing here, I should like to ask?” Mike demanded.

“I was sent after youl" the darky 1cle
“ De young missus wnh to see you." '

“De‘youn missus, eh? Who’s that!"

“ Missy A a, sub—dc Missy Ada.”

“ You mean David Dore‘s daughter, or
Stephen‘s, Julius!"

“ Marse Stephen’s, sah.

ou.”

“ Where is she?" , v

“She waits in do back, sah, outside. Yougit
in, sah, an’ she explain, while you ride toward
Central Park.”

* “I wonder if this is a trap!" Mike mused,
eying the negro suspiciousllfv. “I’ll look in the
carriage, before I ge in, I bet.”

Aloud, he said.

“A right. Load ahead, Josephus. I'm al-
lus 3i ing to accommodate the ladies, you can

t.

They left the garden. ”

A back was awaiting, outside, and the win-
dows were closely curtained.

Attached to the vehicle was a span of h
spirited horses, which were in turn managed
ane servant, in livery. -- -

Ju ins opened the door of the hack, and Man-
hartetgn Mike took a sharp look inside, ere he en-
te . ‘

He saw a young and beautiful girl, of seven-
teen or eighteen, who was richly 'red and
bore every indication of being a cul ured and
refined person. .

She smiled him a welcome, and he no longer
hesitated to take a seat beside her in the hack,
and they were whirledra idly away.

“i wanted tospeak wit you, and I did not
know of any way I could do so better than to
follow, and ask you to take a drive with Incl"
the young lady explained. “I am Ada Do
the daughter of Stephen Dore, whom you call

0 See.

“I am Very much pleased to have the honor
of your acquaintance!" Mike responded. “I
Judge you are the same young lady who was
present, reclining upon the sofa. during my in-
terview with Mr. Trac Travis?"

She wants to see

 

“Ia . Besuppose Iwas sound ,1»

“ If it will oblige you, i can possibly give you-

I had ta in an opiate, a short time before, v.

 

"‘1?

~<

arse} re *

li 
ff:
2

 

 - '7"\- ~

 

V 10 t A Manhat

 

. ing been in need of quiet and rest, aftera severe

attack of neuralgia. As it Was, I heard every
Word of your conversation. I then retended
to arouse, as you left the room. racy was
deCeived nicely.”

“ What relation does he bear to you, Miss
Dorel”

“ He is my betrothed husband, and is also my
own cousin.” _

“Indeed! I presume, then, it is a sort of
family match?”

“ It is. You see, my father is a very rich man,
and is so far along in years, that he don’t ex~

t to live a great while longer. Being very

0nd of Tracy, it is his desire that We cousins
marry, and kee the money in the family.”

“Ah! yes; see. I suppose you acquiesce,
than. to his wishes?"

“I have never refused, sir, believing Tracy
to be a nice, honorable man. But,‘since your
visit today, I have been assailed by fears that
all is not as I have a right to hope and expect.
It is on account of these feelings of uneasiness
that I‘ordered my cab and followed you."

“ Well, I am sorry, Miss Dore, if my call this
morning has alarmed, or worried you. If in
my power, 1 will try to set to rights anything I
mnyg’have unwittingly said or done to offend
you;

‘ Oh! it is not that, air. Your conduct did
not offend me—but it was some reference in
your conversation, which caused me much un-
easiness. Tell me, has Tracy any interest in
any ozher girl!"

“ That I could not advise you about, for any-
thin like a certainty !” Mike answered.

“ ut you made mention of the names of sev-
eral women—Lulu, Camille, Nora, and so le'th.
Who are these persons, sir?”

“ Who the first two are, I know not, further
than that I found articles in Travis’s pockethOok
aosigned. Nora is a personal friend of mine
whom Travis has lately procured a position for
in a dry goods store. She tells me he has hint
of marrying her, and of their living in a brown-
stone house with servants, and so forth. Be-
lieving he meant her no good. I took advantage
of an opportunirg of giving him a timely warn-
ing, as you hear .”

‘What are you, sirf—what is your business?”
Miss Dore asked.

“I am a detective” u

“ I thought you were, because you alluded to
the clearing up of a mystery. What is it, Mr.
Maverick!"

“ That is more than I can tell you. It is con-
cerning a case I am endeavoring to unravel,
and with which I have good reasons to believe

our betrothed hawbani is closely connected,

ause of the l‘ttcrs I found. Do you know

that our father ever had a brother, Miss
Dore "

A strange start came over the young woman.

“ Oh! yes, sir. There were three bi others of
them—papa, uncle Divid, and uncle Thomas!”

Manhattan Mike began to feel elated.

“ Are these uncles living now i”

“ Only one pf them—that is uncle David. He
is a very bad, wicked man.” ,.

“ Would you mind giving me the family his-
tOry, so far as you know it, Miss Dore?"

“Not if it Will be of any use to you, sir. I
don’t know that I am rfectly posted on it, but
I will tell it to on as understand it.”

“ Do 00, and shall be ever so much obliged
to you!” Mike declared.

My father and his brothers were Virginians
of poor paran e, and together with t eir fa-
ther tilled a am i lantation.

“ When the gel -fever of ’49 was re 'ng.
grandfather Dore went to California, surfl d d
not return for seVeral years, when he brou ht
back with him a fortune of two million of 01-
lars. A few months after his return he died.
and when his will was opened, it was found
that he had left all his money to his elder sou,
my uncle Thomas.

"As naturally was to have been expected.
there was a bitter dissatisfaction on the part of
m uncle David and spa, and uncle David,
wlZo was of a nature Iy rash nature, swore
Thomas should never IIVe to enjoy the undivid-
ed fortune.

“ Thomas married and moved to the West,
but was foIIOWed by David, and my father was
afterward notified that Thomas had been killed
together with his wife and child, by David, and
that the latter was it. hunted outlaw in the far
West for the crime.

“ Thomas had made a will which, in event of
the death of his wife and child, left the fortune
to my father during his life and then to his heirs
immsd y father went West, settled up

. thealairs, and returned here.

 

 

 

“ My uncle David went from bad to worse,
until when last heard of he was th chief of a
hand of counterfeiters, and was w ted in sev-
eral different States for various crimes. He has
written threatening letters to papa several
times, which seemed to worry him very much,
but I never saw any of them, and do not know
their contents.”

“At last I think I see the be inning of the
end!” Manhattan Mike mused to imself. “ It
is by no means certain that there isn‘t work to
be done, however. David Dore may not be the
only black sheep in the flock I shall have to en-
counter.”

 

CHAPTER. VIII.
ma Baomnns‘ COMPACT.

Tan ride continued as far as Central Park
and back, but Manhattan Mike learned litte
more of importance from Miss Dor and but
little further conversation ensued re ative to
matters concerning the use further than that
Mike candidly expressed his deep distrust of
Tracy Travis.

Miss Dore seemed much shocked at Travis’s
apparent faithlessness, and declared her inten-
tion of communicating her doubtsto her father.
But Mike advised her not to do this until he
personally had a further opportunity to inves-
ti ate the case, and she accordingly promised.

Vhen they reached Union Square on their
return, Mike bade her good-day and made his
way to ward Macy’s. Entering this emporium,
he went at once upstairs, an was not long in
finding Nora’s stand, where he began pricing
some goods, as a pretext by which to gain
time to talk with her.

“ Where is Cirrie Chase?” he asked, after the
first greeting. “ Have you spoken to her about
to<ni ht?”

“ es. She has no objections to coming. She
has been removed to one of the other rooms—I
don‘t really know which.”

“I will look about and sec if I can get a
glimpse of her," Mike announced.

He went from department to department of
the great store and scrutinich the faces of the
many pretty young salescladies, but failed to
find one answering to Dora’s hotograph.

Leaving Fourteenth street, 0. Once more set
out for the Bowery, where he entered the same
up-stairs gaming-saloon in which be had first
met George Gresham, or Ned Shields.

II ~ was not there, however, nor had he been
there, said Luce the proiirietor.

Not knowing what else to do. Mike turned
his foocsteps toward the Astor House. desiring
to know if David Dore was yet stopping
there.

If he was, it was his intention to telegraph to
Chicago for an ordee for his arrest. us undoubt~
edly he was pretty well known there; but the
frigid clerk informed the ii'quirer that David
Dore had been a guest at that hostelry but one

day.

Mike felt disa pointed, but be based great ex
pectations on w at he an t learn from pretty
Dora at the forthcoming interview.

 

In the mean time, an interview was taking
place which it becomes our duty to chronicle.
as it has direct connection with the thread of
our narrative.

Two men were seated at a retired dining table
inadown-town restaurant. Wine and glasses
were before them, showing that they had al-
ready dispatched their meal. Both were enough
alike in faco, figure and general appearance to
be pronounced brothers, and such they really
were.

The younger of the two, was David Dore.
The elder person, whose hair was more silvery,
and heard heavier, was Steuben Dore, the
wealthy retired merchant of 120m street.

He was a somewhat nobler-looking personage
than David, but his face was now clouded and
gloomy, while that of David bore unmistakable
traces of triumph in its expression. .

“ Yes, Stephen; your fancied security is but
a fancy, for, as you perceive. your affectionate
brother has returned to you.”

“ I would to Heaven you had never lived to
reach here 1” Stephen Dare replied passionately.
“Why in God’s name were you not content to
remain where you were. and not to intrude
 villainous presence where it is not Want-

“ Oh! I‘ve tired of being a wanderer on the
face of the earth, Stephen. and want to settle
down and enjo myself. Your money-bags are
sufficiently ful , as I have several times written
for you to open your folding-doors to me, and
gotectms as you would an aged father. To

sure, I haven’t been real! y as good as a par-

tan Mike, the Bowery Dlood.

' think so? But

 

son, since We last met so long ago; but] pre-

sume it won't matter particularly to you, since

you are not the most perfect man in Christenv
OlIl.

“ Were I a king among scoundrels, on are
too bad to come within my notice or c arityi"
Stephen replied bitterly. “ You murdered my
brother, and have inherited my everlasting
curse!"

David uttered a sardonic laugh.

“ What an idea I" he declared, without ap-

aring to (get the least ill-huniored. “ Why

less your ear heart, Steve, you were 'ust as
much interested in poor Tom‘s taking 0 as I
was. To be sure, 1 got the cm dit of doing the
job proper, but, where did you ring in, except
for the fortune, when cruel justice was doin a
good bit of achrtisiu’ for mv sea] I On! m
a bloody red-handed villain, Stew, int you’re a
cunning scamp, and my mum match 1”

“ I am no scamp. I am an honomble gentle-
man I" the elder brother wanted, his soowl
dee ning. “ In what instance can you find me
gui ty of a disreputable act? blot a one, sir. I
haw always lived an upright life!”
h“0h, yes, without a doubt. How about the
fortune you fetched away from that far Iowa
town?"

“ I was informed that Thomas was missing
together with his child: that his wife was foun
murdered in their cabin home; that a paper
purporting to come from you stated that you

ad killed them all out of revenge;that my poor
brother‘s Will had been found, leaving his wealth
tome. Of Course I Went West. I found Tom’s
wife dead and buried, and Tom and the child
missing. Shreds of their clothing had been dis-
covered, which conflrmed their fate, even though
no trace of their bodies was found. The money
was handed over to me and I came East. Now, ,
then. what was there wicked about all that, on
m art?” '

“ his much: you offered an extra reward
for my arrest and conviction, knowing if you
could get me out of the way, you would never
haVe any trouble—your right to the money
would never be disputed.”

“ Well!”

" Wasit well! I am not so sure,old boy, that it
was well for you. You knew you had a scheming
brother, but you little reckoned on all there was
in him. You fancied yourself safe, and to make
yourself still safer, you did something very,
Vel‘y funnv.”

“ ] don’t know what you mean, sir.”

‘_‘ Bah! You lie—that’s one polite fact. You
speculated on the money for a time, until you
enriched yourself of! from it—then you convert-
ed it into railroad bonds, in the name of your
daughter. Very cute. wasn’t it?”

“ “'ell, ! pride myself that it was a business-
like move—yes.”

"Exactly. If an heir to Thomas Dorc’s money
should turn up, be, she, or whoever it might be,
would have a golIy good time trying to reclaim
the heritage. c i”

Stephen Dore smiled complacently.

“ Well, David I perceivo that you are not
quite so dull o comprehension as I supposed
you Were." he said, with a chuckle of sat ‘f'af-
tion. “Iain glad on are satisfied how rcal y’
absurd it would for any pom n to try to
wrest Tom’s fortune from my Ada, now.”

“ I don’t see it in the same light as you do!"
David responded, coolly. “ I we know con.
siderably more about the matter t no you im—
agine. For instance—that will you found was
an old one, and does not hold. There was a
later one—leaving f-Vf‘l‘ylllillg to Tom’s oung,
daughter and his ado ted son, provide
married when the girl .came of age!”

“ Bah! you are lying l”

“ Don’t you wish you could bring yourself to

on can‘t. You ave also a
really believed 't at another will existed, e so
you would not have had a private search made
when you were in Iowa.”

“Pooh! you are talking to idle ears. Sup.
pose such a.thin were possible as the exisfenco
of a later will— ow would it affect me!”

“In a way you little dream of. I Stepher you
have, sooner or later, got to give up 'iom’s
money, principal and interest, and don’t 1 on 103-.

at it.”
8 “ Who to, prayf—you f”

“ , no! I’m out of the question. I‘m a
wan ering rogue, with a reward on in head,
and due publicity might give mean on esirahls
vacation behind prison bars. I can. however.
put you n in paints, and perhaps win a sum-
cien 0 your favor, in this way, that you

won! n’t hesitate to give me a lift to a tow ‘lnm- , ’

dreds.”
“Your bright anticipatious are doomed'to
\

they '

 

 

}

 

 

 

N _-...J..__..

 

 

. ent cccisions esca

 

~_._.__ . .

 

 

 

eclipse, sir, I assure you. However. if you
have anything further to. communicate of in—
terest o ahead.”

“ Wei, I suppose I might as well do it!" and
David Dore glanced on either side to see if any-
one was thhin ear-shot. “First, however, we
had better begin acmewhere near the beginning
-—for instance, at the time of the murder,” he

began.
“ Go ahead l”

' "Well, with revenge in my heart, I followed
our brother West from Vir inia. 1 found him lo-
cated upon a new farm, in own, miles from any
other habitation. This satisfied me that I could
effect a successful consummation of my scheme.
Before visiting the cabin, I got nerved up, by a

lentint supply of whisky, and then set forth.

found Tom 3 wife alone, at the cabin, and
when she refused to give me up the money, I
brained her. I had learned from her that Tom
was at work in a distant water-course, secur-

ing fire-w . The children Were visiting at a
ne ghbor's. I left a paper proclaiming my
crime. Whisky made me g cry in such an act

of bravado. I then went in search of Tom. I
found him, and a desperate struggle ensued.
I thought I had killed him, finally, and hid the
body in a lonely swamp. I then bided my
time, waylaid the children, and captured them,
and bore them miles and miles from the
scene of my crime. I had no intention of
killing them. For years I kept them well-cared
for, but really imprisoned, in a wild mountain
retreat. I had no desire to slay them, for I had
secured Tom’s latest will from the cabin, and
meant to turn it to good use, when they grew
u .
p‘,‘ As they e(grew older, they came to regard
me as a hat, enemy, and on five or six differ-
me, but b a liberal use
of money, I always succeeded in recapturing
them. On the last occasion, however, when
they esca they visited my own quarters, to
kill _me, resume, but I was away; so they
stole the til: safe, containin Tom’s will, and
some other papers, which will eiiable the girl,
with her sharp wits, to pick out who and what
she is, and where her fortune lies. ”

“ And you have not found her?” ,

Stephen Dore uttered th Ase words in a gasp-
ing spasmodic sort of wiry

His face was not as no d as usual, and it was

lain that he began to apprehend unpleasant

pending results.

“No! she has not been found. I, myself,

.hnve traced her here. to New York, but there the

trail ends. I have feared to employ regular de-
tectives, as there was dan er of getting the
mutton into the tire. I tried work in ashrewd

oung fellow, but he was too much for‘me. He
first telegraphed and found out that I did not
belong where I claimed to, and then denounced
me "as an impostor, and refused to work for
me.
v “ That is strange. How came he to do this?"

“ Simply from the fact that another party
had previously tried to engage him, to work up
the same case i”

“The deuce! Who is this other party .7”

“My bittereat fir, and everlasting pursuer.
Be is a Chicago sleuth, and he searches for me
with a ketful of charges, and requi-‘itions
from d erent States, for my arrest. He is

wn as Peleg Praneeri”
‘9 Ah! then be is not after the girl?"
“ Ain’t be! Well, I should smile. ifrhe wasn'tl

~ Stepheh, he wants the girl as bad as either of

ns—and for natural causes, too!”
Stephen Doro glared at' his brother inquir-

ingly.
avid nodded and smiled.

“ You are not slow to comprehend, no more
than I am!” he averted. “ it is he, sure
enough!”

“ Ten thousand furies! Where is he?”

“ He arrived in New York about the time I
did, having come from the East, where the
game was caged.”

" Do you not know his present whereabouts?”

“Not to-day. I expect to. soon. however.

- He has em loyed a detective name Driscoll, to

work for h in. I have hunted Driscoii up, and
bribed him to my side. He is_a keen devil,
and open to money. I offered him five thou-

_ sand dollars to make Mr. Prancer the subject

for nn‘inquest, and another five to delivsr the
girl to ms, t her with the safe.”
“Good! It a plain you have not lost all your

' I *jud‘gingnt. Have you an idea where the
r

‘
‘ “Not exactly. If Driscoll cannot' find her,
no one can."
‘ be her actual Value!”

’ “’.N2tthatloin awareof.”

 

“ And what do you propose to do, if she
is delivered to you?"

“Simply this: make myself solid for life, by
forcing you to divy up Tom’s boodle. and than
hailildnthe girl over to you,to do with as you
wi

“So! so! You are playing a cute game,
ain’t you? What if I refuse?”

“ Then, i‘ll produce ample proofs of who the
girl is, and she shall turn you out of doors, and
1‘“ kill you in the bargain l”

“ So you think you‘ve got me, dead to rights,
eh? What if I should raise an alarm, and give
you into the custody of the police?"

David Doro laughed, grimly.

“ It Would be the last act of your life, I warn
you. I am a bad man to trifle with, as, you’ll
find out, if you are squeamish, in the least. :50
you had better play safe with me, for half,
than play for the whole, and lose all!"

“I am not so sure of that—yet] must have
time to consider. Where is this step-sou of our
brother—or adopted son. I never heard of him.
before."

“ Didn‘t you? IVell, he is known as Edward
Shields. and was with Dora, when they escaped.
The girl came here, and I dare say Shields has
joined her.”

Stephen
lit a cigar.

“It is plain that we must work to save an
unwelcome accident!” he said, his brows drawn
into a scowl. “Therefore, I will take on into
gartnership, and when We are mutua ly satis-

ed that all obstacles have been positively
removed, be oud peradventure, on and I will
share the in elitance equally. see no other
way to prevent a disgraceful explosion.”

‘ You have good judgment, worthy of a
king!” David asserted, rubbing his hands with

lee. “ I will then, in foreign climes, snap my
ngers at the law that would crush me here.”

‘ Well let us adjourn then. When you learn
more you can notify me by mail.”

“ Correctl But, Ste hen, considering all the
expense and trouble I ave been to, can‘t you
put up for Driscoll’s services?”

“ I have no such amount of money, with me.
We will meet here to-morrow, and fix the
matter up.”

They then arose and quitted the restaurant,
not suspecting that a person had been swal10w-
ing a square meal, a few feet in the rear of
where they had sat, and had, likewise, been
swallowing almost every word they had
uttered, for they had not 8 ken cautiously and
he listened with intense sol citude.

This person was Manhattan Mike. He had at
last “dropped” upon a windfall, havin been
seated there before the entrance of the res,
as if directed by some invisible good genius.

re poured out a glass of wine, and

 

CHAPTER IX.
DORA.

Wamxo until the ton) pres had fairlv left
the restaurant, Minhattan Mike arose and fol-
lowed them, at a respectful distance, not de-
siring to be discovared by them.

They soon separated, however, Stephen Dore
taking an up-town elevated train, and David
Dore proceeding further down town, on foot.

It was him Mike desired to trace to his lair,
for knowledge of his whereabouts might prove
invaluable ata. later stage in the drama.

First, Dore went to Broadway, and visited
several steamship offices, along that busy
thoroughfarex x

“ I smell a large—sized rat!” Mike mused as be
kept in the background. “Davy the duck, pro—
poses to get oil of term firma, as soon as he
clinches onto the divy his brother has romised
him. A cunning dufler, is Davy, an I shall
have to watch out he don’t get ahead of me.”

After his visits to the ticket offices, Dore
made his way to a cheap lodging-house, on the
Bowery, and disappeared thei’lein .

Knowing the manager of the lace. Mike had

little dim -ulty in finding the ocation of the
villain'a apartment, and also learned that he
had paid for the room a week in advance.
. Satisfied that he needed no particular watch-
ms. for the present, Mike then made his way
toward his oWn lodgings, where he put in the
balance of the day in sleep. and in figuring out
the singulwr case with which he had been con-
nected. N it until four o‘clock in the afternoon
did he again venture forth to a make a tour of
such r sorts as he judged either Ned Shields or
Pelegl Prancer might frequent, but up to night-
fall. e had found no trace of them.

Then he returned to his room, to await the"
coming of Nora and Dora Dore.

Manhattan Mike, theuBowery Blood.

|
1

 

'fliey made their appearance at the proper

   

H 1’].

time, Nora ushering the pretty heiress into the
young detective’s presence with an air of
triumph.

Miss Dore grew pale, at sight of Manhattan
Mike, and made a movement to escape from the
room, but Nora dprevented, by closing and look
ing the door so putting the e in her pocket.

“Don’t be skeart. Carrie. his is my best
friend, Mr. Mike Maverick, better knonn as
Manhattan Mike. He’s a rfect gentleman,
and ye needn't be afeard of im.”

“But you have deceiVed me, Nora. I sup-
posed I was to meet one of your lady new
quaintances.”

‘f I didn‘t tell you so, did If”

" No—but—”

“Pray be seated, Miss Dore, and have no fear
of me, for you will find in me your warmest
friend!" Mike said, politely.

Dora started and grew still paler, as she
stared in alarm at the Bowery Blood.

She was by all odds the rettiest girl he had
ever encountered, thou ht ike, even though
her attire was not as no as rightfully became
her station. in life,

“ Sir! “'hy—how—l" she stammered; words
refused to come to her aid, and tears sprung
into her eyes.

‘° I pray you will be seated, dear lady,” Mike
urged, placing her a chair. “Instead of being
lured into the trap of your enemy, as you seem
to believe. you have been brought to one whose
special object it is to right your wrongs. Will
you not accept this brief explanation, until I
can further convince you!"

She sunk reluctantly upon the seat, very lit—
tle of the pallor leaving her otherwise rosy
cheeks.

“ You will pardon me, sir, but tome it seems
incredible that you, a perfect stranger, could
be my friend.”

“ No doubt of it, in my mind, dear Miss Dore. Q

I am aware of many of the trials you have had
to undergo, because of your uncle’s villainy,
but, I assure you as a friend, and ass demo~
tive, that there is an end to all things. and so
there is an end to David Dora’s machinations l”

“ Are. you a detective, sir?”

“ I have the honor of being one of that craft.”

“ You bet, Mike’s just a daisy detective!”
Nora assured, proudly. “Mike and I are old
chum sand I expect he’ll be making a detectives.
out 0 me one of these days.”

“Is David Dore dead, sir!” Dora asked
anxiously, without noticing Nora’s remark.

“ No—he’s just as lively as a flea, but his live—
130658 is going to get him into trouble, before
many moons, and don’t you forget it! Do you
know anything in respect. to your early ife,
Miss Dore?”

“ I know that I was abducted, t ther with
my adopted brother, and was to d that my
father and mother had been killed. David Dore
told us this. For years he held us as. captives.
The reason be assigned for this was, that the
man who had murdered my parents, was
searching the world over, for us, with a desire
to take our lives, and it was necessary to keep
Us secreted in order to escape his vengeance.

“ As we grew older, we grew to disbelieve,
and to regard our uncle as a wicked, and de-
signing man. One night we overheard him talk-
ing in his sleep, and learned enough to cause us
to believe that he was the murderer of our
parents, and that we were heirs to a large
fortune, lef by my In that, and that David
Dore was withholding from us our rights, in
order to perfect a pecuniary scheme of his own.

“ Time and again we tried to escape our cap»
tor, but in eVery instance he succeeded in re-
taking us, and each time punished us more and
more severely, until endurance ceased to be a
virtue. It was useless, howaver, for us to seek
to baffle or elude him, for he was a very demon
on our trail. Our last incarceration was in a
supposed private asylum run ,by a D..ctor
Bantley, in New Hampshire—an asylum only
in name, howeVer, as no demented, or diseased
patient ever entered there, it bein merely a
prison for victims of evil and design ngpersons.“
who Were willing to pay the ‘Doctor for his
accommodations and vii» services.”

“ Yours has been a and lot, Miss Dore. What
you have told me is not new to me, although
t has been kn wn only a few hours. I heard
David Dore régiting the whole remarkable story
to his brother, this very afternoon."

“ His brother?"

“ Yes—Stephen Dore—your other uncle, who

all your father’s wealth.”

“I was not aware I had another uncle, eirl'"

“ Then David Dore has no doubt kept you
in i uorance of the foot. Your father had two
brot era. The way matters have finally been

   
  
   
  
  
   
  
   
  
   
   
 
    
    
   
    
  
    
  
  
   
  
   
   
  
   
    
 
  
   
   
  
    
 
  
   
   
  
  
  
   
 
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
   
   
  
   
   
  
  
  
   
   
   
   
   
  
   
  
   
 
  
   

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  i ‘ V I  k t p ‘

- another are to be captur

' detective

3.2.

.— ._,-..

 

arranged between them is for the two brothers
to share the wealth equa‘lél‘y, and that you and

and forever put out
ofgthe way.”

Dora‘s lip quivered.

“ You do not mean to tell me, sir, that another
terrible murder is contemplated?”

“ Just that, Miss Doro. Were you to fall in-
to their hands, your life would not be worth
speaking for.”

“Merciful Heaven! am I yet to be hunted
down after my long years of suffering and sua-
peusel lshal go mad, sir, if I havo to stand
the worriment much longer!”

“Do not worry in the least, dear lady. In
me vou have an earnest friend, who is as true as
steel. Trustto me and I will bring everything
to rights, in due time. If you follow my direc-
tions they’ll have a good timeflnding you. I);
you possess the trunk—.a small tin safe, I be-
lieve—which contains among other documents,
your father’s last will?"

“No, In adopted brother, Ned, took charge
of that w on we separated for the piurp'vse of
throwing pursuers ofl.‘ the track. 9 was to

meet me, per appointment in Herald personals,
as soon as lie-arrived from Boston, but he did
not, and I have not heard from him since We
1» lrted.”

“ I rather opine he’s here, though !“ Mike
announced. “ What sort of a snoozer is be, any-
how?”

“ Ned is a nice, kind youn man-—-alittle wild
sometimes, but good-heart and trusty. We
have both been buffeted about since infancy,
you know, and Ned has a violent temper, and
a sort of mania—an abhorrent dread of my
terrible uncle. I do believe he fears my uncle
more than any other being upon the face of this
earth.” "

“ He‘s a queer ’un. anyhow. I got on his trail
(’other night. He was going to commit suicide
in the river, but I stopped him, and he got mad
and pitched mu overboard in front of the
boat.

“Oh! mercyl"

“Fact! I got out, thou h, a Wetter but wiser
man. Since then I haven t seen his nibs.”

"It is very strange he should have attempted
to commit suicide,‘ Dora said, “although he
'has several mes become very melancholy over
bein a hunted man.”

“ suppose you have examined the contents
of the safe—t at is, you know it was your
father’s wish that you should become your
foster-brother’s wife ’

“Yes. That is known to me, but it is a
matter of very little importance, as Ned and l
have both agreed that such a match is undesir-
able for either of us. Ned has sworn to stick by
me, throu h thick and thin, but he loves a
'Western 1, and will marry her some day, no

.. doubt.”

‘“ Well, before we can do much for you, Miss
Dore, it will be necessary to find this fellow,
Shields, and obtuin the last will of 'our father.
This will not be the hardest jo , however.
How we will force Stephen Dore to give up
your rightful fortune, except by law, is not
quite so plain to me,'and you are aware that
the law is a ton h customer to fight, except you
hare all the rig t on your side, and a power of
money t2) back it up."

“I reckon, young teller, it won‘t be of any
need for go tor ter law!” a disagreeable voice
cried. an the oor was burst open, and half a
doom rough-looking rowdies entered, headed by
Bob Driscolll

Each man grasped a dirk-knife except Dris-
coll, who instantly covered Manhattan Mike
with a bull-dog revolver.

“ Not a peep, ye bla’gnard!” the villainous
rowled. ,“ Ye know none of the
neighbors oves ye, an’ of ye try any monkey
biznece we’ll leaVe two of ye for the coroner to
look at tc-morryl”

Manhattan Mike was taken so wholly by sur-
prise that they had an undeniable “drop” on

lm before he could make a move.

_ His courage was not daunted, and he put on a
bold front;

r" Hello! What the blazes d’ e call this sort of
thin r’lhe cried sternly. “ hat d’ye mean by
brea ing into my room in this fashion?"

' h We mean that ther game telongs to We, Us

undCompan l” Driscol declared, rimly, "an’
we menu has new. if ye try to re. So an alarm,
w- kin bet you'll never raise another one. ,
Lind and gag the bloody‘Bowery cuss. Elf he
attempts resistance I’ll put a bullet through him.
, No fear any one will inguire into the cause of g.

' ‘ Niall—report in three quarters, I assure you. It
- , than», is on
“ ggnugfiout‘oft isbuilding."

trouble. there is more ways than

 

"‘ “wash, «a area.- a. ....-:

 

 
  

.- trrumnxw.“ .%—¢‘n~e-tfi .sm -3 .L

Manhattan Mike, the Bowery Blood.

 

Manhattan Mike at once saw that resistance
was next to useless. \

Driscoll’s companions were of the roughest
characters from the slums, and fit for any crime
that would yield them gain. and l\l1kc know
only too well that their leader was no better
than were they

Should he attempt to fight them off, there
seemed little doubt. but that he would be
disabled—perhaps killed, while it was possible
that both Nora and Dora would be used even as
badly; 5.», when the roughs advanced, he made
no move to frustrate their intention, until—

A sudden thought occurred to him.

Directly bchind him was a window ‘which
opened int.) a court, or area, which was a dis-
tance of about, twelve feet to the ave.

During his knocktabout life, ike had not
failed to learn his little mite of athletics and
gymnastics, and a sudden resolve entered his
mind; he would try a desperate undertaking.
lf he received injury, it Was no more than he
was likely to be subjected to at the hands of
Bob Driscoll.

As the roughs came toward him he suddenly
turned a backward Somersuult. There was a
crash, and a disup earant‘e of window-sash,
glass, Manhattan Mi e, and all.

The astonished roughs. with Driscoll at their
head,sprung to the o ning, with cries of as—
tonishment, and glar down into the darkness
b810w. r

At the bottom lay the fragments of the win-
dow—sash, but the during detective was not to
beseen.

“He has escaped!” Driscoll cried, with an
oath. “ Quli'kl we must get out of this!"

They turned, seized Dora, threw a shawl
over her head, and carried her bodily from the
room.

A blow from Driscoll‘s vicious fist laid Nora
senseless upon the floor.

Darker than the shades of Styx was Hester
street that night, and the villains had no diffi-
culty in getting their captive into the close cab
that Was waiting by the curb.

Driscoll and another man also got in, and
the vehicle drove off.

At the corner of the next block, a sturdy and ‘

yet stylish figure darted out from the shadows,
and began to give chase.

He found, however—for it was the Bowary
Bloody-that he was .no match for the two
horses in the race, and finally stopped, out of
breath, and very much disappoints .

“The ’ve got her, sure enough!" he gritted,
“ and seven only knows where they Will take
her. For the present I am baffled, but I’ll swaar
it shall not be long. I'll yet find her, or it
will be something queer for a Blood like me,
from the Bowery.” .

Seeing no p legible chance of immediately
looming whither Dara was to be taken, Mike
set out on his return to his lod ings, to see how
Nora had fared; but on arriv ng at his room,
he found Nora one, and that none of the other
occu ants of t e tenement appeared toknow
anyt ingof what had occurred.

After a few moments of deliberation, he once
more started forth.

DNol'm was undoubtedly safe; but what of Dora
ore

She must be found, and that too, very soon
or the chances were she would never be heard
of again. v

First he made "his way to a telegraph omen
on Broadway, and sent the following message:
“ 7b ma Maren on Cm" or Pour: in? Ubicapo, I ll:

“ Is David Dore, criminal, wanted! If '80, for
what, and price? "

He then hurried back to the Bowery, and to
the (lodging house where Dora’s room was lo-
care .

Inquiry of the manager revealed the fact that
Dore was still in his room, which Mike regarded
as good news.

‘ It is now but a matter of time and circum-
stances!" he muttered. "l have got to watch
the every movement of Davy, in order to find
out the whereabouts of Dora. Driscoll, or some
of his gang, will surely communicate with
David, and that. too, very likely, before any
harm is done to Dora.”

And, just One hour later, Mike had the satis—
faction of seeing Dore leave the lodging-house.

It was now to be a game of shadowing!

-——-

CHAPTER X.
. or ran raun. ' ‘
ON leaving the led lug-house, David Dore
looked sharply around im an if suspicious that
watchful eyes ware upon him; but Manhattan,

 

Mike was quartered in a dark doorway acrom
the way, and‘the keen gaze of the arch villain
failed to see his enemy.

Walking along the BOWery to Prince street,
and thence to Crush street and thence into
Marion street, David re entered one of the
groggerics on this street, and remained within
the ordinary space of time for a man to quail? a
glass oi NWT.

HP thou reappeared, and looked cautiously up
and down the street.

In a doorway, where shadows were dense
enough to Conceal a human form, stood Mun-
battan Mike, watching his prey with ihc 93' ,‘e of
a hawk.

it n as now plainly evident to him that Dore
suspected that he was followed; and this was
precisely what Mr. Dore (lid belie-vs, although.
as yet, only intuition excited the suspicion.

He gazed inquiringly toward Mike’s place of
concealment, and took a couple of steps in that
direction, as if impressed with the idea that he
would find an enemy lurking there. I

He, bowwer, lulmcdiately desisted from his

urpose, and finally starting off up the street,
he went perhaps a hundred yards, then wheeled,
abruptly, and looked buck.

Evidently he (xlccted to catch his pursuer in
the act of dogging his footsteps, but the street,
apparently was wholly deserted.

Mike had anticipated a move of this kind, and
had very wisely kept to his Covert.

Dore remained lon enough ito light a. cigar,
and then set out brisk y.

Half-expecting he would look around every
few minutes, Mike took up the pursuit, slowly.

The "wanted" man went directly to {Broad-
way, and thence north through that thox ough-
fare to Thirty-ninth street, and then over to the
vicinity of the North river.

Here he disappeared so suddenly that Man-
hattan Mike was puzzled. He did not see his
prey enter any building, nor, did he see him
leave the sidewalk—yet it was an undeniable
fact that the man was gone.

For half an hour the Bowery b0 scouted
about the neighborhood and “ tookin ' the visi-
ble points, but without much sa’tisfaction.

Dore had disa ared, and that was all there
was of it, and i e finally came to the conclu-
sion that there was little use for him to con-
tinue the search any further in that direction.

Accordin l , he made his way back to Ninth
avenue, an k the clovated cars for down-
town.

.Althou h pretty well tired out, he was still
game. ere was no sleep in his eyes, as long
as there was a ssibio chance to obtain a claw.

On his way own-town he indulged in a care—
ful deliberation and the result of it was he
made his way to the Bowery lodging-house
where David Dore held forth.

It happened that Jeni J une. the manager of
the establishment. was alone in his dingy omen,
which, fro rant with the fumes of bad tobacco
was also li rally decorated with lithographs of
eta e favorites of more or less prominence.

rough "steering ” June out of a bunco
game, once upon a time, Manhattan Mike had
won the manager’s heart y friendship, and there-
fore the Blood felt warranted in requestinga
return of i'aVors.

To use the popular slang. “there was nothing
slow about June,” and he set out a box of cigars,
the moment the youn detective entered.

“ Eveningto ye', cl” he saluted. “’Ow’s
the bulls and bears!”

“ The bovine rather has the bear on his home,
Jam, and it devolves upon on to liberate the
later genus by allowing a little strategy to be
performed wathin the winch; of y0ur dormi-
tory!" Mike announ with uric-comic grav-
ity.

J one stared.

“I fail to catch on,” he said elevating his
heels upon the office-table. “ Win ye please be
more ex licitl" .

“I wil endeavor to explain? Mike said,
lighting up. “ You have a lodger, I believe,
by the name of David Dore?"

Business'like, June referred to the register, in
front of him, and announced that Mr. David
Dore did r00m there, in Room 41; although he
had previously
as to the fact, at that young gentleman’s
solicitation. _

“ls Mr. Dore in his room?” was Manhattan
Mike's next query. . . -

Again June referred, but this time it was to‘
his key-rack. .

“ Dore is not in. Michael!” he announced.
with the air of a Metro litan hotel’clerk. Then.
he condescended to a :
terest have you in the aforesaid Dore!" ‘ ’

 

posted the young detective"

“ What particular in- _

.4“. n- .

1..

t M.._x.... _ _._~._._. . L ...a . -< ‘ -se

a» Q.

 
   
      
      
    

 

 

 

 

1
9.
r

' hear and see all that transpires.

miracle he anle
Driiioollieafaithfuly
let her

« caption
i Creeping cautiously from house

'took a
'thath'ewaswholly

f , fifmm means of binding new.
.  I{lightlfvfiitowleontherack,whichlie

 

A _Manhattan Mike, the

 

s

.“Well, to tell the truth, I repose to slam
it!” Mike declared, grimly. " bat is to say, I
mean to go trapping for foxes, and collar a lit-
tle fur, to line my pocket—book. Did you eVer
see this?” and he exhibited his badge, whereat
the lodging—house mana r whistled.

“I see! I see!” be cc merited.

“ And you likewise perceive the enormity of
the importance of my present visit. This royal
rascal, Dore, is a villain of the first water, and
it is my business, as a representative of the re-
quirements of legal jurisdiction to inVestigate
the way and means of Davy’s manner of sub-
sistence, and‘ so forth. Therefore, suspecting
that David will soon return, laden down with
the spoils of a. nocturnal pilgrimage, I” desire to
be granted the privilege of concealing myself
in his room, hoping to hear much that will in

he future embellish the police records. and
inke for the penny daily periodicals of the
present time.” . _

And after delivery of this bit of talk, Mike
seized u on his jaw, as if in fear it would break.

Jem we put up his hands, imploringiy.

“Don’t!” be said. “Another infliction of
that kind. will be my death."

" Well, I’ll dr0p on the dictionary, then. In
lain, solid Latin, I want you to at me into

re’s room, so that when he returns, I can
I’m working
up a serious case, Jemuand my success all da-

nds on getting into his room.”

“Can’t do it, youn man—can‘t do it. That
would be an offense or which I might getn
long term of imprisonmentl”

“ Bahl Nonsense! What are the laws? 13
not every citizen expected to lend justice a
helping hand! I say, Jem. June, l’m goin’ to
occupy David’s room, and if you don’t aid and
abet me in my plans, l’ll pull you up before
police court for being Dora’s. accomplice in
crime. Ohl but there‘s nothing slow about
my In

June was not acity-bred individual, nor was
his intellectual accomplishments .of the highest
order, and he really knew very little about the
laws: hence, was not certain but what Manhat-
tan Mike could make him trouble, of which, in
his honest heart, he had a great horror. .

After a little parley, he consented to Mike’s
proposition. and within a few minutes the de-
tecuve was under the bed, which Dore was to
occupy, should he come in. ' _

It was a cramped and uncomfortable post-
tion: but with true detective. patience, the
Blood of the Bowery waited. sat38fied he Would

enough to repay him for bistrouble.

It was three o’clock in the morning, are a key
turned in the lock, David Dore then entered
the room, closing and securmg the door after

him.

Mike t aglim of his face tosee that it
1:52ch gone. ' antic? and triumph inasuperla-
t ve

It tzid to like that the villain was bent
of Dora’s capture, and had very ,like y seen

’0
Dore a fatigued, however, and threw
on his with a wl.
“ Well, the hi is once more, and if
like this time it w be something like a
muttered. “ That fellow
, and he’ll not be apt to
use
“me. hem leme hand upon ten thousand

9'!
dollars. Oh,
‘ “So Drlnnfiu theafleiler eh!” Mike mused,
-“and the girl still ve and safe. So far. 80
oodi The important thin is to find out where
Drisooll has his bird f Dore can’t vouch.
safe me the information. there’s another way
to find out. In r B men can easily fur-
nish men to watc Drlscol ’s movements.”
Dore did not further ex recs his thoughts in
words, but took a drink of quor from a pocket-
ansk, and then threw himself upon the bed,
without disrobmgi] . i
If the sleep of e unnghteoua is not sound.
Dore’s cane must have been particularly an ex-
for his heav snoring soon proclaimed
himtoheinadoepsoep-
The first streaks of early dawn began to shoot
at the wintlcwémantdo garnglelke that what
waetobedonem one c .
th the bed, he

the sleepertomakesure
:thenhe looked

when by vigilance for a short

good look a

WWIthwa

"f ' liquor Dore. m imbibed, mpg" it dead-

that he did not awaken, and

 

dumber,

 

n

i Mike went through his work without arousing

‘ the sleeper.

| When David Dore awakened, he found the
Bowery Blood sitting on the bed beside him,
toying with a dangerous-lookin knife.

“ ’Shi Not a peep or I’ll stic ye!" Mike ad-
monished. “ I mean bizness, Davy, and if you
don’t want to die before the law gives you a
chance you’ll be discreet. Otherwise the coro-
ner will be called here to make an inquest dur-
ing the coming day. D’ye hear me!”

“I fancy I am not deaf," Dore growled, mak-
ing an uiiavailing attempt to burst his linen
bonds. “ You infernal young whelp of Satan,
what do you mean by this sort of business! He-
lease me, at once 3”

“ When the swallows homeward fly, Davy,
perhaps I may—that dependin’ altogether on

ow you conduct yerseli’. Ye see, Davy, I‘m
dead on ter yer little racket, an’ I intend ter
work ya the same as I would a. gold mine. If
ye pan out well, so goodl If ye don’t, all hopes
o‘ yer bein’ a success, aire a dead open~an‘-
shut failure. 80 you see there’s but one course
fer you to pursue, an’ it behooves you to tra-
vel along it faster than on a jog-trot, you bet.”

“ Bah! You are a barking our. If I get
free I’ll make you sorry for this indignity!” the
villain declared, savagely. “I’ll cry for help
and have you arrested, curse you!”

“Try it on, old rooster. If you try anything
of that sort, I’ll mighty quick shove ye inter
the Tombs for the murder of Thomas Dore’s
wifel” Mike warned. “ The fact is, Davy, your
ball of yarn aire about run out to the end,and ye
might as Well make a clean out an” out breast of
matters, an’ thus stand a chance 0’ getting legal
leniency.” ‘

“ I’ll do nothing of the kind,” the villain de-
clared. ” D’ye think I fear an upstart like
you! I guess not! You’ll find you’ve got

old of the wrong sort of a bad man when you
try to work me.”

“That's where you mistake, Davy. A man
of vou’re bad character is the just the sort of a
hairpin I like to bend into shape Ye see,
there’s more fun in working a real out-and-out-
er, than there is a tame, ninety nine cent vil-
lain—more real enthusiasm in a victory of this
sort. And, as it happens that I have you com-
pletely at my mercy, you will see that I‘ve
every reason for enjoying the situation to a
greater extent than on can.”

“ You are remar big good of gab, for a
green kid; but, pray te us how you presume
to have gained any war over me?”

“ Easy enough. lieving you are wanted in
Chicago, 1 have telegraphed declaring my capa-
bility of laying hands on you at a minute’s
notice. Iex t an answu' early in the morn-
in , annonnc ng that an officer has been sent to
ta c you to the scene of your former crimes!”

Dore looked uneasy at this.

“ You liel" ,he gritted. .

“Bet your life I don‘tl” Mike calmly ae-
sured. I overheard your interesting conver-
sation with
and conclud it was about time for me to e
a hand In the game. It’s a real dramatic scheme
you‘ve 1got up against Dora Dore, ain‘t it? But
you’ll nd to {fur sorrow that it won’t work.”

on b

 

“ Won’t it, in
“No it won’t it! I’ll knock smithereens out
of thai scheme before I’m 01! this trail, you

can bet on that! Now, sir, what I desire to
know is—where ’ve you got the girl shut up!”

“ What girl?”

“Obi don’t beso innocent! Where is Dora
Dore?” I kn
Ppole ow corifonnd oul
D’ye think ’m a general directory?” y

‘ You’re a general idiot to suppose that you
can shut my eye up. Dora Dore was abducted
last night—for it's now ’most morning, from my
room, and ll abncted her for you. You
afterward went to the place where she is held a
captive. I dogged you for a ways, but finall
lost track of you. When you re-entered th
room awhile ago. I heard you any that she was
caged, which proves that on were at the cage.
Now, sir, youvegot to te me where Dora is
secreted l” .

" May I never see another sharia if I do!”
the villain sneered. “ cu think I’d give up
the gme, young feller, w en it“: all in our own
han , you’re the most mistaken youthful jack-
ass that ever hrayed."

“ So you are inclined to be mulish, are you!”
Mike growled, his face hardening. “ It won’t
work with me. vy, I’m not a perfect saint
b any means, and give you fair warning that

Just get a at lit- and truthful answer
from on, you will seriously hurt.”

“ I never tell you—I’ll see you in purgatory

 

Bowery Blood. H

our brother Stephen yesterda ,,

 

13

.._. ._ “*‘fi

 

first, {on hear me, you whelpl” and the desper-
ate 5 emer looked decidedly as if he meant it.

.Manhattan Mike allowed no trace of disap
poiutment to cross his face.

“ I’ve a mind to knife you for your obstinacy l”
he declared grim] . “I’ve a better plan than
that, however. 1’] go out, get an officer, and
escort you to less comfortable quarters at one of
our police stations. When the proper authority
arrives from Chicago, you will undoubtedly be
treated to a picturesque trip across the conti-
nent, as far as Chic-in ago l”

And rising from the bed, he made a move to
leave the room.
h.David Dore flung a torrent of curses after

1m.

“ Go on with your apple-cartl You’ll see
where you’ll come out. Put me in jail, if you
dare, and I’ll outwit you then. Go ahead, I say,
but look you out for your life onceI my
freedom! I’ll cut your heart out as sure 5 there
IS a sharp knife to be found in Americal”

 

CHAPTER XI.
memo A “ ooaxnn.”

MANHATTAN MIKE paid no attention to the
threat, but left the room and locked the door
behind him.

Descending to the office, he found the light
turned low and Jem June‘snoring away,“ he
sat tipped back in his office chair.

Awakening him by a rough shake, Mike gave
him the keys, and said:

“ Mind, now, if there’s anymoise up there, you
go and make the fellow dry up. I’ll be back to
arrest him directly.”

He had fully made up his mind on this course
of action as being the most sensible thing he
could do.

To allow David Dore his freedom once more
would be literally equivalent to signing poor
Dora‘s death-warrant. '

Straight to the nearest police-station he went,
and after making a complaint against Bob Drie-
coll, returned to the Bowery, accompanied by a
couple of oflcers.

Dore was taken in custody and conducted to
the Station-house. but not without hk treating
Mbike and the policemen to a fearful torrent of
a use.

Warning the sergeant not to allow the pris-
oner to be admitted to bail if it could be helped,
until he (Mike) got advice from Obi the
Blood once more took himself back the
Bowery.

It was now broad daylight, and like’e first
action was to get awn with a good breakfast
at one of the respectab 0 restaurants. His next
move was to visit, the “graph-once, from
which he had dispatched to ice 0.

A message had just been recciv , which acid:

“Dave Dore wanted. Hold him until lpedal oa-
ccr with requisitions arrives ”

. It was ' nedby-thechiefofpolice. ~

“ He den i: mention any reward!" Mike mutr
tered. “ I’ll bet, if there is one, I’ll cock in my
claim for it. This playin’ detective for uothla
and boarding one‘s self in the bargain. ain
hardly what it’s cracked to be. Broken,
mebhe, ef Dora gits her rights, she’ll divy up
sensible-like.” ,

is,»c owever, was something akin to count-
in ch keno before they were hatched.

mm the telegra h office he made his way to
Sixth avenue and ourteenth street and s t \.
a full hour in watching the eel ha y
mine along and entere Macy’stc begin their
dag’s work.

nt, though he watchrd, he saw nothln of
Nora, and at once formed the conclusion but
some ill had befallen her from the trouble of
the revicus night.

owing where she dwelt,he turned his steps
toward the dismal street, and hurried along
anxiously. '

In passing a police station he was m time
to see a trio of men carrying a man ' from
an ambulance. '

Some intuition he could not account for caused
him to follow into the station to get a: glimpse of
the unfortunate’s face. What, then, was his sur-
prisetoeeely‘lnglnpon the stretcher no Icsaa
personage than e redonbtable Peleg I’rancer‘!

Bewae ineeneible,and hiehrowwaea

comer-cu instrumentcrcb

“Hello Iknow this man Hikecried. “fiis
nameiaPrancer. did thith

“L n’downononeo’the strfva'doch,‘
was mar. “Gee-mammal“, .
an’ him hto therlver. and bounded
cute forhiselothea. 8.5mm»-
pital case this morning.” ,

 

“ He must not go there!" Mike said. exhibit-
ing his badge. "There is important bu iness
on foot for him, and I do not believe his injury
will disable him after he recwsrs consciousness.
I will see that he is cared for.”

Restoratives were promptly applied, and in
due time Peleg Francer opened his eyes.

He looked grimly enough at the oflioers, but
his face lighted up a little at sight of the Bowery
Blood.

“ y hokey! Is that you, younker!” he cried
sitting up and grinning at the young blood as ii
pleased. "Glad to see you. What’s the mat-
ter of me?"

“ Nothing much, only some one has been rap-
pi'ng you on the head. Didn’t you know about
it ’

Prnncer scratched his head.

. “ Well, now that I come to think about it, I
rrckon I do. I had an appointment to meet
some one down by East river last n' ht, and
was waitin’, when, furst I knewed, didn't
know nothing. I was conscious of tumbling in-
to the river, and had sense enough to get out.
That’s all I remember occurring until now.”

“ I presume you have an idea. who assaultol
you?" Mike said. “ l have."

“ It does not matter!" Prancer hastily replied.
“ Come along with me boy, till I at my wound
tinkered and we can get matters xed up later
on."

The officers were not inclined to let Prancer
go, but at Manhattan Mike’s demand humor
was permitted to accompany him from the sta-
don-house.

The went to the nearest doctor, where the
woun was dressed after which they set out en
route down-town, Mike having abandoned the
idea of hunting up Nora for the present.

On the way the subject of the assault upon
Prancer was more fully discussed. ~

"You were to meet Bob Driscoll, weren’t
you?” Mike asked.

“ Yea, I was. What of it?”

“Lots! I thought you’d soon get your fill of
that snooaeri”

“ You think he struck me, do yo!"

“I should snicker! He’s as bad at heart as
any cut-throat in the city. D'yo miss any col—

lat?"

“No. I didn’t have much with me, and
there’s none of it gone.”

“ What were you to meet Driscoll in such an
ont-of-the-way place for?” Mike queried, eying'
the Yankee keenly.

“ He claimed he had found where my daugh-
ter was, and if I met him there he would take
me to her."

“ Ha! ha! ha! And you were fool enough to
believe him!” i

“I considered his word good, although my
confidence in him has not been growrng since
last I met you.”

“I was afraid you’d get bit. It's luck . how-
ever. that ou're no worse for wear. know
this Drisool and all about him and I trust that
we’ll find him behind the bars before sunset !”

“ Ye don’t say? What will that be for?”

“ For devilt in general, but most important
just new, for a notion.”
“ What f"

“ For abduction."

“ Not—not of my Gracie?”

“ No—not of your Gracie, but of your dau h~
tor, Dora, Mr. Thomas Dore I” and ks

laughed.
’I‘ a Yankee started violently, and gave Mike
. a sh searching glance.
“ at d’ye mean?" he growled, evidently in
bad humor.
“ I mean that the Prancer racket won’t work

worth a cent. Its b’iler is cl’ar bu‘sted, and '

’tain’t fit for use no ion or. Yo see, I've inves-
tigated the hull affair. that. and all that I
have found out wouldn’t go inside of a diction-
ary. Prancer are very iFood to stufl turkeys
with, but no good for tufiln’ Bowery shang-
highs, you can bet! So you see, you and I
m ght as well understand each other, first as
last. 'You’re Thomas Dore, an’ ye seeketh fer
Eur xroyal brother, David, and your daughter,
ra
The scowl did not leave the man’s face.
. “Well, what if all you say is true?" he do-
manded curtly. .
“ A good deal to you, mebhe. If you expect
to win a respectable show in the game, you
otter to hfich outer the right teller as can hel
ya to u throu h. The fact isrThomas 1
your k when I rst met you was hash. Why
were you searching for Gracie?" '
“Gracia is Dora Grace Doro.”

, ’ a  I reel”,
. I. “ all, you’ve cheek enough. that’s one fact."

Man

a

Dore retorted. still in illhumor. “I am rather
averse to voung men who cut their wisdom
teeth a week after birth. They generally have
a superfluous sort of idea that they know more
than their elders."

“ And in many instances such is the fact of
the case!" Mike unbluehingiy declared. “ I
don't pretend to be the seventh of a seventh,
nor nothin‘ like that, but I generally know h0w
to relish a square meal when I see it, or kick a
square package lying on the sidewalk when i
want to let my toes know they are growing too
pro ressive."

“ ell, go ahead and let me know how well
you are informed about my business, since you
claim it to be so much to my interest."

“I‘ll do it. I know that David Dore killed
you, or thought he did—killed your wife, an’
abducted your gal an’ your foster-son. 0n
comes your t’other brother, finds a will leavin'
him all yer collat. which he appropriates like a
little man, and makes himself comfortably safe
from bein’ troubled by David, by offerin‘ a big
standin’ reward fer him. David don’t keer. He
hangs on ter yer progeny wi’ an eye ter the fu-
ture. The aforesaid prog. escapetn David, and
the upshot of it is he turns up in New York,
business and blood in his eye."

Thomas Dora’s face grew inexpressibly stern,
just then.

“lYou are sure he is here?” he gritted‘, sav-
age y.

“Just as sure as I am that Christmas comes
but once a year. I had the pleasure of seeing
him locked up, in a police-station, not over a
couple of hours. a go "

“ Hal then take me there, at once! For
many a yearI have longed to confront him, the
accursed viper!"

" Whoa up, now! Don‘t get excited! You’ve
got to let me run this machine, or I kick, at
onc‘t."

“ Go ahead. then, boy! Out with all you
have to say. Where is my child ?“

“That‘s jest sum’thin’l can’t perzactly tell
you, because I don’t know."

He then went on to relate about how he had
heard tha‘compact between David and Ste hen
Dom; about his encounter with Ned Sh elds:
and about the abduction of Dora, the night be-
fore. which later had resulted in the arrest of
David Dore. ’

When the young detective had finished,
Thomas Dore seized his hand, warmly.

“Young man, you are Well worthy of your
small amount of self-conceit, and ou’re one
after my liking. Uninvited you ave taken

hold of a case of but little interest to the
ordinary detective, and developed much out of
it. I heartily thank on. Henceforth we will
work together, ban in hand, but y’ou shall
have the guide, for I believe your knowledge of
city life t{g ves you a great advantage over me.
But no me m st be lost.”

" Right you A minute lost, now is very
apt to be a mile. Before anything can he done,
we must await thflarrivai of the Chicago om-
cer, with the requis tion-pa rs—that is, before
an thing can be done with avid Dore. '

‘ Not so. I am possessed of the power to ar-
rest him. and take him back to Iowa. What
char did you have him arrested on!"

“ ifs-murder!"

Thomas Dore smiled.

“ Did you mention whose wife be murdered?”
" B ova! I did not. That’s sumcient to
Elect; im. if nothing else is preferred against

m.

“Perhaps, yes. The best thing we can do is
hasten to the earin !”

Mike glanced at h 5 watch.

“You are right. We haven’t a minute to
spare. After we get that arran :l, we must
turn our attention to your ot er brother,
Stephan Dore. It may not be amiss to keep a
lamp shinin on his movements, I reckon.”

They burr ed on at a brisk .

Directly, Manhattan Mike once more filmed
at his watch.

“ Something tells me we shall he too late!” he
said. , “My watch Was sto pad, when I looked
at- it, a fewiminutee ago. It is really later than
I had any idea of.”

At the fist opportunity, they ascertained the
time, and ound it was nearly after the time
when ma sterial hearings usually commenced.

When hey arrived at the room where the
police-court hearings took place, ,they learned
that, as no one\.was present to appear against
Dore, when his case was called. his hearing had
been postponed one day. and the Honorable
Stephen Dore had gone his bail in the sum of
two thousand dollars.

Sadly disappointed, the two searchers left the

 

hates. Mike. the Bowsrx Blsed- ..

 

 
   

\
court room, and adjourned to a neighboring
saloon, to com; are notes.

“ Something must be done, instantly i” Mike
declared, “or it will betoo late. No doubt an
immediate attempt will be made to spirit away
your daughter, or kill her, as you must see that
David will seek to escape with great haste, re—
gardless of two thgnnd dollars bail, which is
comparatively an insignificant sum, under such
circumstances.”

“You are right.
what can we do!"

“ The only thing“! see to be done, is for you
to go and swear out a warrant for his re arrest.
showing your authority and stating your rear
sons for doing so.

But, what shall we do—-

befilivan !"

is was at once done; then, at Mike’s sug-
gestion, they made their way to the residence of
Stephen Dore.

Pompey, the negro servant, answered the
summons. and bowed politely. _

“ Is Mr. Stephen Dore at home!” Mike asked.

“ He am not, sub!”

“ Could you inform me where Iywiil be apt to
find him?"

“ ‘Deed, I can not, sah. Marse Dore in town,
sah."

“ Has he an oflice in town!”

(I 0' gab.”

“Does he ever hang around Wall street!”

“ Dunno!"

“ Is Miss Dore in, than?”

“ No, sah—nobody in, sub!"

And hang! went the door, in the faces of the
callers.

" Confound the imp of blackness. Fetch him
to the door again while i choke the gimrd out
of him!" Thomas Dore fumed.

“ He‘s non est now 1” Mike sai . “We will
do Wall street, and maybe find S phen there.”

They did go to Wall street. and spent a couple
of hours there, looking into the “ pens” and
“dens " of the “bulls ’ and “bears,” but no-
where did the flnd Stephen Dore.

“ I fear we re on the wrong track." Thomas
Dore said, in a tone plain] telling that he was
disCOuraged. “ My poor aughter may be mur»
dared before we can get to her rescue.’

“We must not despair. We may run upon
the much-wanted clew before we have the least
ex ctation of so doing." , -

nd he was right.

They had not one two blocks, when the
suddenly saw Bo Driscoll and Ned Shiel
coming down the opposite side of the street.

“In here," Man attan Mike gritted, pulling
Dorean an omce area. “The game is at last
ours. .

CHAPTER XII.
nu ma. NARROWB no“.

Driscoll and his companion passed on down
the street. -

“Where are they bound for!” Thomas Dore
demanded, glarin after them. '

"That’s someth ng I’m not justlprepared to
tell—its what we must find out,” ike replied.
“ Do you know that man who accompanies
Driscolli"

“ Not that I am aware of. Who is he!"

“ Your adopted son, of yore—Edward
Shields!” ,

“ Whati And he with Driscollf Then Drie-
coll is not false to me." .

“Don‘t you fool yourself; Ned Shields is
wanted out of the way nearl as much as you
are ourself. or your dang tor, and I’ll bet a
new at against a Bowery but that he’s now be-
ing, led to the slaughter. There’s work term-e
us.

“You have told me that Ned  the
Will. Although 1 will live, it may necessary
for me to possess that.”

“ Right again. We must follow them, and
not lose track of them. We shall have tobe
very careful they don’t scent pursuit, and throw
us of! trail.” ‘

The took u the pursuit, keeping for enongg
behin Driscol am his companion topreven
the chase being discovered.

It was along pursuit.

It really seemed that the renegade detective
—~fcr he was really that—was trying to throw
pursuers off the trail, for he changed the
course from one thoroughfare to another, until
it really would have puuled the wits of a m.
vevor to decide their ultimate destination.

They frequently dr into saloons for a
drink, and ere long. by h s unsteady I
came evident that Ned Shields'was aellng the
effects of his potations—a fact which caused
Manhattan Mike to remark: '

“ You see how reasonable is my opinion of 7

A general alarm will then.

t,itho-_

  

   
  

 

 

 

 
   
  
  
   
   
  
  
   
  
   
   
 
   
   
   
  
 
   
   
  
   
  
    
   
    

 

 

 

   

 
    
   
 
     

 

      

 

‘
t
.

  
 



:5 Id

- t, A, «or ,, J

 

 

' clan that he would

 

 

paralyzed, and no doubt will treat him to the
same dose that he did you!"

But little doubt n0w that Driscoll had some
evil intention in view. ‘ ,

Slowly but surely they were proceeding in a
northeasterly courso, and nearing the East river.
~ It now became noticeable that nearly every
saloon was visited, and that Shields was really
getting beastly drunk~so much so that DI‘isCO i
had to take him by the arm.

“ The uddin’isgittin’ pretty near ripe enOugh
to di 2” ike observed. J.

“Tongue right. If that scoundrel pushes

the boy overboard, I’ll shoot him."

“ No you won’t!”

“ Why not, pray?”

“Because in losing him, we are losing the
best possible opportunity of findin’ Dora.”

“ True enough.”

“You bet. You jest let the Blood of the
Bowery manage the helm. I! Driscoll llshei
the pigeou in, we’ll be there, and you’l rush
forward to the rescue. I’ll keep glim. Driscoll
will take leg bail for security. I‘ll take the
same kind 0 bail, after him, and if I drop his
trail 1’“ never tackle another one. After you

at out of the rescue biz, you come to Thirty-
. inth street and North river and wait about
the vicinity until I join you."

It was so settled.

The chase seemed nearing its end, as the pur-
sued approached the water-front.

Driscoll evidently had “timed” his arrange
ments perfectly.

They soon went out upon a pier, where there
were no visible signs of business in the imme-
diate vicinity.

Far below was to be seen the skeleton struc-
ture of the Brooklyn Bridge.

It was noontide, and a man could have
dropped into the river and drowned at that
particular point, with little possibility of any
one noticing the mishap or crime.

Driscoll was talking to his more than half-
stupeaed companion as they advanced upon
the wharf.

What he was saying was apparent to his
pursuers; he was telling Shields that they would
row across the river.

As they neared the water’s edge, Driscoll gave
a senrchin glance around: then suddenly
throwin h le in front of Shields, he tripped
him,an sent im spinning headlong intothe
in: flowing tide, and ~instantl turni skur-
ri from the vicinity, like a ri htene deer,
looking neither ri ht nor left on he consider-
ed himself out of an er.

He then slackened is pace and gazed search
in l around him.

a was no longer in' ‘si ht of the dock, and

he saw no one in pursuit 0 him.

he resumed his journey at a reasonable

pace, looking back onl now and then, and at
an timenseeing no 3 whatever of ursuit.
at like an avenglng Nemesis, the wery
.Blood was on his trail' surelyvand cautiously

he was dogging Driscoll to his den.

The latter, as Mike had surmised, was mak-
ing his way toward Thirty-ninth street and
theNorth river. . ‘

, ere. then, or somewhere adjacent to the

Visinity was Dora Dore concealed.

It he ailed to and her, Mike was ready to de-

lve up the profession.

The fair face winning manners of the

onng heiress, had deeply impressed him, and
nlthpagh I'll. had pounsplrations so barb-minded
ugugermore ana ntouh he
gasreia tgr tohe instrumentalis‘rgtoring hit to

or g ,L ._ .

The ursuit was kept up without discovery
or had at worthy of mention, until they were

‘ near the North river. . ‘
, Then greater caution became more impem.
live; it was too risky for the young detective to

t nearenongh to the object of his pursuit to

recognized, and therefore he had to keep at
a considerable distance behind.

Findly, when Driscoll was retry close in the

vicinity of the river, he sud only wheeled ab-

_ ., nugtly and looked steadily back.

othing doth, Mike came steadily on, and

L «finally know that his advance hadinlled any
suspicious Drinooll may have entertained: for

he turned and entered a house near where he
had'halted. ‘

Keen as those of a lynx, were the eyes of
'1 Manna , _ Nike, and their gaze never left the

-_ doorwa' when‘nrisceli had disa peered. until
Mind M

as out, beyond an Ire, the ex-

 .lneaflcnelending with. renegade’s tendon:

  i‘fiefiwvofmm' «were we

. .33
A I I
~13" ‘i. 'v_./;v‘d  w

 

Driscoll, dou’t you,2 He is getting Shieldsl

 
 

15

 

ements, and occupied by a number of families,
although the house that Driscoll entered had
more the appearance of being tenantable
for but one family, as a defaced bill of “To
Let,” was pasted on the door.

“That’s the place!” Mike muttered, “and it
now is but a matter of time ere I win. It‘s
wait, be watchful and patient!"

He did not approach nearer to the dwelling, via
Thirtyninth street, but retraced his footsteps,
a ways. and took up his position where he could
keep a distant eye upon the building, with little
danger of being articularly noticed.

For over an our he kept up his vigil, and
then, to his surprise, he saw no less a person
than Nora, the ex-peanut vender approaching.

“ Ohl I’m so glad to find you,” she said. “ I
know where Dora is concealed l"

“Hum h l" and he chucked her under the
chin. “ t. 0 do I. But how did you find out?"

“I tracked Driscoll this morning."

“ I tracked him awhile ago. I’ve been
shadowing here, since. Have you any idea
whether David Dore is down there or not?”

“ Don’t think he is. I‘ve been spying around,
too, but I‘ve seen no one come in or out, except
Driscoll, and a nabob—looking man, awhile ago.”

“ AM Did he have gray hair and beard i”

it Yes!"

“That was Stephen Dore!“ Mike mused un-
der his breath. Then aloud to Nora:

. “ Has he come out, yet?"

H No." ‘

“ Then we want to shadow that building with
unceasing vigilance. Ah! here come Thomas
and Ned.”

It was even so. Thomas Dore and Edward
Shields now came up, both wet; but as the
weather was warm, it mattered not.

Ned's unceremonious ducking had thoroughly
dissipated the etl‘ects of all of the liquor he had
imbibed at Driscoll‘s expense, and he was
“ right side up with care " once more.

After a short chat, and mutual explanations,
it wasngreed that all hands should keep a close
watch 1: on the den, where Dora was impris-
oned, an that no one should be permitted to
escape, without being arrested.

The first man to leave the bones was Stephen
Dore, and as he came up the street, Manhattan

Mike intercepted him. -
Dore!" he said, in firm

“One moment, Mr.
but respectful tones. “I shall havetore nest
you not to proceed further, just yet, wi out
my mission.” .

“ ndeedl Who are you?"was the haughty
demand. :

“1, pair, am Igenerally dubbed Manhattan
Mike—~Michael averick, at your service.
amt ’a'. detective, air. and place you under ar-
res . -

The rich man's face sled somewhat.

“ What d’ye mean ’ha growled, frowning.
“ This is nonsense!"

“Nothingof the sort, sir. When I tell you
that [overheard your conversation with your
brother, David, yesterday and that I know
that Dora Dore is imprisoned yonder, and that
it is designed to take her life, and ht, you will
see how well I am posted. Mr. ore, do you
want the world of New York to know of your
complicity in a murder?”

The proud man shuddered.

“ By Heavenl no!” he uttered hoarsely.

“Of course you don’t. Perhaps there is a
possible loop—hole for you to once . Out of
pity for your daughter, I may be a e to spare
you. Is David Dore down yonder?"

‘ o ‘

“ urei” .

“ I give you my word.”

“ D) you know where he let” ,

“ I do not. I exfiect he is laying'low.”

“ He’d better. the girl there

‘3 S is.”

“ So at”

“ As far as I know“ for the present.” .

“ Drisooll is there.

“ No. He slid out the back way, and has
gone in search of David.”

“ Is the girl alone!”

d “Yezi "She is bound, and chloroformed, or

rugg .

“Stephen Dore. tell the honest truth—don’t
you feel ashamed of yourself for having any
hand in this most infamous scheme?"

Dore looked guiltty. ,

“ You are right, do. I cannot account for
my strn weakness.”

‘Wsll, that as it may, there are possibly
two chances for you. Yon see that man over
».yontlYerr;, '- - I

H 88

 

“ That is Thomas Dom". . -

Manhattan Mike, the Bowery Blood.

 

 

 

“ Well?”

“ He wants his money and his dau hter.
Will you give him up every cent that is is, if
he will allow you to leave New York, and avoid

. the disgrace you deserve?"

For a. moment the man hesitated, and then
answered:

“ By Heaven, I and!"

“Then await me here, until I find if Thomas
Dore agrees to the terms.”

Mike crossed the street, and had a long and
earnest conVersation with Thomas Dore.

When he again returned he said:

“It is thus settled, for your part. Thomas is
to get his rights, and you are to remain or go,
as you please, but there is never to be any tie
of relationship recognized between you hence-
forth and for all time."

 

W by write more in detail.

Dora Dore was promptly rescued from her
captivity, and a joyous reunion took place be-
tween her and her father and foster-brother.

Then, after setting the police to watch for
Driscoll and David Dore, Manhattan Mike es-
corted Dora to the St. Nicholas, while Thomas
Dore and Stephen set out to effect a proper
restoration of rights: and it was, as far as was
evor known, satisfactorily settled.

At an rate, Thomas Dore got his money
back, With interest, and when a short time
after, Stephen Dore left New York, accom-
panied by his daughter, it was not as a poor
man.

Tracy Travis turned out about as badly as
the average young man of his unscrupulous
class' gambled. drank, married twice in a
month, and had to suddenly disappear.

Two days after the settlement, among per-
sons who viewed two corpses that lay in the
Morgue, were Stephen and Thomas Dore.

The unfortunates had been found drowned in
North river, and were David Dore and Bob
Driscoll.

Probably the two Dore: were the col ones
who ever really knew their identity, an they
locked the secret in their own breasts.

To say that Manhattan Mike received a lgub-
stantial reward would be“drawing itm d,”
for he could afford to retire from the “ perftsh'
and marry: and marry he did—Dara!

And Nora so captivated Ned Shields that he
got over his unsteady habits, and became a shin-
ing light in businesacircles.

t was afterward found out that David Dore
and Tracy Travis were both connected in the
heiress scheme as well as in a- counterfeiting
business, to which the letters in 'i‘ravis’s pocket-
book undoubtedly had reference. -

ran mm.

some

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Betective and ‘ Shadow ’ Revolutions-
Stories of the Great Deep, etc, etc.

So that each and every number is overflowing
with of the most interesting and exciting
nature; whi e in its Special Departments, covering
all the needs. and adding to the general interest
and usefulness of the popular journal, Bunut‘s
qunr is the paper of all others for your weekly
reading and entertainment.

Bennet- Weekly ls Pnbllnlsed at
the Following Basel: ‘
For Four Months.
For One Year . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Two Co ice for One Year. . . _ . . . . . . . . ..
8’3"°' 1°  
L‘ 0' 1
minutiae AND AD ,
~ ’ .. u dissimilar out.

 

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B E A. D L E’ 5
POCKET LIBRARY.
88 OO'I‘AVO PAGES. PRICE FIT! am
I88 HEB EVERY WEDNESDA Y.

 

/A NEW LIBRARY SERIES.\

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Tho'l'wo Detective” or, howl-doloqu Dy

AlboflW.Aihoo.
No... The Prairie Pilot: ¢,I'hohonto-Dyy. DyDoloio em,

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lmD. Mm;¢,mumm DyDololo-,(I-.

(Hon. Wu. 1'. Cody.)

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No. D. 'l'hoPlyingYo-koo; or,'l‘hoOooon
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lo. 4. ll.‘ho Donblo Demon-v, DodwodDMDoloooo. Dy Dom
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in Diognioo. By Edword L M.
BEADLB AND ADAMS. Pnhiinhero.
No. 08 Willie.- Streot. New York.

Beodle'o Pocket Library io tor oolo by on lowdoolco, Dvo out).
oopy, or oont by non on roode otLoix oooto oooh.

hundm.)
Do. 10. Buhlo Ben. tho Prince ofthoPiotol; or,“quth

lo. 8. Antelope Abe. the Boy Guido. By on Contact
lo. D. lied Wyldo. the Boy Dec-t. By “Ton- Jooh’ (ll. 0-.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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HALF-DIME

 

 

LIBRARY.

 

 

[DD Dholowed. Dy Chlo- lurk.

1D? Little Grit, mwuo Rider. Dy Col. Prontioo lngrohoru
los Arhonoow, o. u.- with 0.. nm. Dy '1'. c. liorbough.
IDD Feotherweizht. Dy um Willoti. ,

D00 The Boy Bede-inn. Dy Coot Frederick Whittohor.
DD] Tho Bloch Hillo Jelohel. Dy low-rd I... Whoolor.
DOD Proopeot Pete, ofloo Doy Dripdo. Dy 0|! Goo-oo.
DOD Tho Boy Porlo. Dy Joooph I. Body", 11.

on Gold Pin-o, tho Doy Mt Dy‘CoL Pro-ti- lnpohol.
D05 Deodwood Dieh'o noon. Dy ldword 1.. nod-o.
DD. Dork Poul, iho “lint ling. Dy Chemo Noni.

m vaflo Niel, Io Boy Gold Hutu. Dy 1'. O. “ugh.
DOD Tho Boy llerooleo. Dy on Coo-co.

DD. Nil, mow-mm DyMLWhooln.
D1.  Fro-k of High Pile. Dy Wllllo- I. Iyotor.
D11 unmade. DyJooophl.Wp’I.

DID Doohinc Dove, tho My Mn. Dy Chorloo loans.
no rm: to't'ho Front. Dy um I. no.1...

'1‘ Wolhll, iho Dohha of tho Rhino. Dy Copt. Vim-nu.
no onw- norm. iho W n... Dy 1'. c. rum-m.
no as... mn. urn-manna... Dy 0.1.2.1.”...
D17 Ont-in Crock-Shot. Dy um L. Whoa)".

DID 'l‘igor Tan, the Tom I‘m. Dy‘OH Coonoo.

DID Don-I'D, tho Duollot. Dy Philip S. Wono.

DDD To- Tmer, Beolowo' And Scopogroeo. Dy Ohoo. lurk;
DDI DwOootedl Ion. Dy Moon! 1.. Whom.

DDD Grit. tho Drove Dport. Dy Col. Pro-ii- lnpohu.
DID Olorh Alf, lingoflho louon Dy low-Ii Wllloii.
DDI’ Doom. Diet. Dy Oil Con-loo.

.5 Do- choroool, tho Promlun Duty. Dy Ohorloo Noni.
DD. Dnoooor, tho Day Show. Dy “word L Whoolu.

’7 Moky Done“, from. Dy 1 hm

DDD Little Wildly-o. Dy Oil Coonoo.

"D Orin-on Xoto. Dy Coloool Puol- lop-o...

on n. Yonhoo man. a, c. 9...... Cluh.

.1 Hook! Phil, of tho loo-toil mu. Dy 1'. O. m
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DID Joe Book ofhngolo. Dy AM W. An...

DD! Old Rooky'o “Boyooo.” Dy Dock-hi: Don.

D85 Dholow Don. tho Moon-(or Doy. Dy chub Honk.
DID Apollo Bill. Dy floor! I. Whooloy.

DD? Lone ltor. tho Oowhoy Oopooio. Dy Col. hrohol.
DDD Tho Poroon Deteetivo. Dy on Coo-no.

DDD Tho Goll-oooher 6 die. Dy onu- loyoo la.
ooo onto-ox“. DyIIonlL'hoolw.

“I Dilllrovoonoliolleor Poroo. Dy'l'.c. laugh.
DID Tho'l‘wo “Bloods” Dyd'huloo lurk.

D“ ThoDiogoiool Guile. DyOllOoonu.

D“ Dim-Do.- Dy flwoflL'hoolor.

D“ lorlo. tho Hilly. Dy also! hoot-hool-
DOD Dim George. Dy Doohohh Ion.

DD! manhunt-rm. lymph-N'Du

 

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“D Diilo Ron", tho Anion! Ill.- Dy Oe't. Fatwa...
D50 The Midohip-on litineor. Dy Col. 2. unho-
D5l Light-houoe Ligo. Dy Capt-ll J. I. O. LII-L

D5D Dleh Doohowoy. Dy Chovloo Motrin.

D58 Sierro Don’o Perl. Dy "word 1.. Whole.

D54 The Rolf-Blood. Dy ldword I. Duh.

D55 Coptoio Apollo. Dy 1'. c. Huhoogh.

D50 Yon-g Kentueh. Dy Cupid: Ink Wilton.

D5? The Loot lluntero. Dy Copi. J. D. 0. Adam.

D58 Sierra Don'o Devon. Dy mm L. 'hooloo.

D59 The Golden Harpoon. Dy Rogor Diorhooh.

D00 Dore-Devil Don. Dy 0!! Coonoo.

DI! Fen-Io D'eornonght. Dy Doom L Alhoo.

DOD The Young Dlentho. Dy Chorloo lorrio.

DOD Deolwood Dieh’o Divide. Dy “word L. M
D64 The l'looting Foother. Dy Col. P. hpohun.

D05 Tho Tiger Toner. Dy Coptoh M. mm
D6. Killh’or, the Guido. Dy hog- 'onoo.

DO? The Boohohin Detective. Dy 'f. o. Huh-Q.
DOD Deodwood Dieh’o Booth Troll. Dy I. l. M
DDD The Gold Dhl’. Dy Col. Pro-III longho-

D'IO Bliuoro Ben. Dy Coriol- llnh Wilieo.

D11 The logo Hunter. Dy low-xi I. ma. 3

D'ID hilnhohin like. Dy 0!] Coo-go.

on III-ho J... Dy 1dqu 1.. m...

D74 Jolly Jill. By Chuloo Monk.

D75 Arise-o Jock. By Buchokin Son.

DTD Herle Monte’o Cruioe. Dy Coloool hool- luv-hon.
D11 Denver Doll. By nun 1.. Whoolor.

D7! The Throo Tropyero. Dy Iojor lawil W. Conn.

on on Winch, on Rm. :1... Dy 1'. c. nun-n.

D80 lerle Dinie'o Fete. Dy Ool. Prootioo lop-hon.
D81 Denver Doll’o Viotory. By and 1.. Who-la.
DOD The Mo Detective. Dy Idqu wmm.

D88 Indion Joe. Dy Ida: Low W. Corona.

D84 The Boo Moro-tier. Dy Colon! Prootil loci-In
D85 Denver Doll'o Decoy. Dy law-rd L Hula.

oso Jooh, the Boy 'l‘ondorfoot. o, Ooyi. nun moo.
D87 Billy BlIo-Eyeo. Dy Ooloool Drooli- hm
D88 ThoDQDlDKiIc. DyOopioioJ. 10.“. -

DOD Jolly Jh’o Job. Dy Ohqu North.

DDo Little FoxDre. Dy 0|) Coo-no.

DD! ’I‘nrh, the Forrot. Dy "word I. hook.

on anchored”. hyanILVnh.

on Red Glow. iho may“ rum. Dy can: cannon.
D94 Dyno-ito Don. Dy 1. o. Huhoogh.

D05 roulooo Phil. Dy I‘woro wmoo.

DDD Denver Doll’o Drifi. Dy "word 1.. WI“

ID! no Torootnlo of Toes Dy Doohohh .-

DDD ‘I'ho Wow-lull. Dy D'hl'loo Ionin

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DOD Tho Ion-toil Detective. Dy 1'. C. nun-go.
DOD 'Lilo Jone, tho Glrl Minor. Dy I. L Whoolor.
804 The Deed Shot Dnndy. Dy Colon! Dunn-flunk-
805 Duhowoy. of Dokoto. a “who Innis
DOD Neck-Tie Nod. Dy hioJor Ii.  Dunno.
D0? The iltronge Poul. Dy Mono Ion.
D08 Keno Kit. tho Doy Duhr’o rm. Dy Col D. Moh-
DOD Deoowooo Dioh’o Bi. Dee]. Dy l L. M.
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DID Bed“) llqu ihonyil-to Drinoo. Dy lo]. I. I. I.“
DID Oi-orron Joel. Dy Whom.
DIG Tho Myoteriooo lore-oer. Dy Col. D. how-hon
DID Nod, the Oohin Boy. Dy look You“
DID Old lelipoo, Tron, Molbhooo. Dy‘l'. QM
DI? Pooeooh Poto. Dy Hook-om AIM Thor-o.
DID Ker-whoop, Ker-whee! Dy Duhhio I...
DID 'I'ho llooh Rider. DyJoooythoomJI.
DD. The loo Doreereoo. Dy loeh w
DDI Deadwood Dieh’o Dooen. Dy mm L M
DDD long the Detective. Dy ram wma.
DDD Arhnnoow {not Dy Bury lie-yd.
DD‘ Dolph Reedy, thalloiol Doy Detective. Dy Loo I“
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