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$50 a you. Entered at the Post Ofﬁce at New York, N. Y., at Second Class Man Rates. Copyright, 1884. by Burma AND ADAIS. February 5. 1886
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s 19 PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Price, No 341
N 0‘" No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents. ° 0

 
TONY THURNEJHE VAGABIINIJ DETECTIVE;  R2233?“

BY CHARLES MORRIS,

Amen or “ non ROCKETT, rm: BANK RUNNER," “BOB nocxm'r, nu: BOY Donom,“ “WILL wam-mn,” “DARK PAUL,” rm, m

 
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Tony Thorne, the V

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agabond Detective.

 
Tony Thorne,
THE VAGABOND DETECTIVE;

on,
Running Down a. Rogue.

 
BY CHARLES MORRIS,
AUTHOR or “RALPH READY," “WILL WILD-
rmE,” “BOB ROCKET,” mo, ETC.

CHAPTER I.
A arr or FUNTHAT DIDN’T WORK.

THERE was a group of boys on the sidewalk
of a retired street, ragged young vagabonds in
most art, who were laughing and 'eerin as if
they ad come into some splendid piece 0 fun.
It was easy to see the source of their amuse-
ment. It consisted of two lads, who formed
thedcenter of the ring into which they had gath«
ere .

One of these was a stout young vagrant, with
a red head and narrow, foxy eyes, dressed in a
ragged, greasy suit that looked as if it had done
duty for two generations before him. The
other boy Was taller, but of slighter build. He
was well and neatly dressed, and had a hand-
some, aristocratic face, that made him look ut-
terly out of place in that joering crew.

In fact, he seemed nervously anxious to o
onward, from which he was hindered b t e
tormenting throng, who gathered aroun him
like crows around a stra sterling.

“Hold your bosses, little Pop oes the Wea-
sell” cried the boy who confronte him. “ Got
to guv an account 0’ yerself ’fore you kin pass
these head-quarters. What did on do with
the penny l guv you yisterday to uy candy?”

This gibe brought a roar of aughter frOm the
group of va rants.

The well- ressed boy looked keenlv at his an—
tagonist, as if taking his measure. 6 then re-
marked in cold, clear accents:

“You’re a. funny fellow, I suppose. I’d laugh
myself, if I could only see where the laugh
comes in. If you’ve got anv more smart speeches
to make just get them of! quick, for I haVe no
time to wait.”

“What say, boys?” asked the other. “ Shall
we let him go without the password?”
“ No—no! ’ came the general cry.

“ You hear that, honey? You’ve got to show
your shin. Can’t let nobody pass ’cept he’s got
a skinned heel.”

There was not a shadow of fear in the face of
the slight youth as be confronted his burly an-
tagonist.

‘ I tell you,” he exclaimed, “ I must go on.
I am on an errand, and can’t waste time here.
Get out of my way! This is a public street.”

“What will you do, sonny, if I don’t ab—
squatulate?”

“Nothing,” was the answer. “ Except to
walk through you, or walk over you.”

A roar of laughter followed.

“ Lawseel how the little cock does crow!”
cried the oung ruﬂian. “ Maybe he’s got ﬁght
in him. ee here, greeny, here’s my challenge.”

He gave the tormented yout , who had
grown suddenly pale, a ﬁllip with his thumb on
the nose.

It was a mistaken insult. The slight lad,
stung to fury by the base affront, ﬂung out his
right ﬁst so sharply into the face of the ruﬁian
that the latter, taken by surprise, was knocked
headlon to the ground!

A long cry arose from the ring of ragamuf—
ﬁns, some of whom seemed ready to fall on the
pale youth, who stood, heavily breathing, but
undaunted, in their midst.

“ Guv it to the white-faced baby!” cried one.
“He tuk Jimmy foul. Swipe his jaws for
him!”

They were crowding in, with threatening
lOOks, when one of them, a short, stout chap,
the raggedest of the lot, sprung between them
and their victim.

“ Git back!” he egaculated. “ Jimmy got
sarVed out right. I there’s goin’ to be a mill
it’s got to be a square one! If one of ou
touches this humbly-bee I’ll bu’st his snout.’

He looked as if he meant it, and the ring
moved back before his threatening aspect.

“ Ain’t goin’ to be no ten to one jobs, where
I am,” he declared. “ If Jimmy Jones wants to
stop boys on the street let him hoe his own
tater-ﬁeld.”

1.81 tbia time the prostrate Jimmy had scram-
b to his feet again, and was approaching his
Mount with a furious face.

 
pictur’, you tuk me foul l"
he shouted. “ goin’ to curry you down
now, my laddie. Square yerself.”

The youth who had been so basely assailed
might have escaped during the momentary con-
fusion of his antagonists, but he showed no de—
sire to do so. Slight as he was he seemed grit
to the backbone, and not one to back down be-
fore the biggest ruﬂian of the lot.

Yet it was very evident that he was out-
weighed by his foe. They had spurred less than
a minute ere Jimmy got in a knock-down blow,
that stretched the fair-faced youth in the dust.

Yet ere the shouts of the rufﬂanly mob had
ended he was up again, with blood on his face,
but ﬁre in his eyes.

Again they met, and again, after a short
sparring the smaller boy went down.

“HOW do you like that, country?” crowed
Jimmy. “ Told you I was goin’ to curry you.
Go; enough, hey, rooster?”

“ No,” answered the resolute lad, on his feet
again in an ins‘ant. “And I won’t have enough
till I’ve paid you for your insult. You may
knock me down, but it is not in your bones to
whip me.”

He was very: pale. Blood was streaming
down his chee'. But the indignation on his
face, and the resolute ﬁre in his eyes, showed
that he was yet far from being conquered.

“ Bull fer oul” cried the boy who had
warned {nick t e crowd. "Blame me if Jyou
ain’t got luck. Go in, little one! Go in, i .-
my! "Pe t away, game-cocks! I’ll see fair
play!

A third round, and down went the fair youth
again. But this time he got in one or two sharp
stingers on Jimmy’s face, that brought red
spots to that young man’s countenance.

Up came the lad again, with Undaunted cour—
age. But he was becoming asorry spectacle.
Covered with dust from head to foot, his cap
gone his hair ﬂying, his face disﬁgured with
blood and dust, he had utterly lest his neat,
spruce aspect. But he seemed one of the kind
that have more ﬁght in them the more they are
whi ped, and his eyes ﬂashed ﬁre as he again
con ronted his antagonist.

Quiet as the street was where this affray had
taken place, several persons had now gat ered
about them. Among these was one gentleman-
ly person, well-dressed, and with a sharp, busr-
ness-like face, who stopped and looked keenly at
the combatants. Acry of surprise and indig-
nation came from his lips.

“ Is it ossible?” he exclaimed. “ I would not
have be ieved it! To think that you, Will
Worth, whom I thought one of the quietest and
most peaceful of boys, should get into a street
ﬁght with a young ruﬂlanl I am utterly aston-
ished! Come here at once, sir l”

The fair-faced boy looked around, with a
start of nervous dread. But he answered
ﬁrml .

“ xcuse me, Mr. Wilson. I did not start
this. He struck me ﬁrst. I am not going to
be insulted by a hound like this if you dis-
charge me from your service. I am oing to
whi the ruﬂian, sir, and I hope you’ 1 let me
ﬁgh it out.”

Mr. Wilson hesitated for a moment, and
then an odd expression came to his face.

“Go ahead then, you quarrelsome young
ro us,” he exclaimed. “You can have your
ﬂ tent, and then I’ll have it out with you
aﬁerward. It’s your turn now. When you’re
done I’ll take my turn." _

There was a threatening tone in his vorce
that did not promise a favorable verdict to
Will. But his blood was up now, and he was
ready to sacriﬁce ten situations for revenge.
He turned again to his anta onist, who had
been listening eagerly to thls conVersation.
One would have thong t that he did not quite
relish the job he had worked-up, and would
have liked to be relieved.

“Come on,” cried Will, with bitter energy.
“I am not whipped yet.”

With a slight show of reluctance, Jimmy
advanced. It is not always so pleasant to fight
with those spring-steel chaps that won’t stay
whipped, and don’t know when they have
enough.

In a moment more the two antagonists were
at it again, shar 1y sparring.

This time Will) did not go down so quickly as
before. He was alert and wary, and his strong
antagonist found that he had work before him.
Several keen blows were got in on his eyes and
lips. Finally, with a ﬁne rush, that broke
down the defense of his antagonist, he got his
ﬁst in again between Will’s eyes, and toppled
him over to the ground.

The young savage rushed furiously forward,

“ Shoot yer ueg
m

 
and would have trampled with his heels on the
face of the prostrate boy, but for the ragged
youth who had offered to see fair play.

“None of that!” he cried, springing for-
ward. “ You’re twice his weight now. This
has got to be a square ﬁght. You ought to be
ashamed of ourself for a big blowhard to want
to use your eels.”

In a minute Will was on his feet again, and
at his foe. He had received enough punishment
to satisfy any ordinary boy, but he seemed to

ather strength and spirit with each knock-
own.

Instead of growing wilder as the ﬁght went
on he grew more cool and wary. e
avoided the blows of his foe, and got ‘ in
his own with quick decision. J imm , on
the other hand, was growl furious at t e un-
expected staying-power of is antagonist. He
rushed forward, striking heavily and wildly
with both ﬁsts, and seeking to beat down Wills
defenses. Suddenly a keen punisher fell on his
temple that considerably amazed him. He
staggered back a step, and then sat down on
the cobble-stones of the street.

“ Hurra!” yelled the young vagrants, who
were turning in favor of the brave young gen~
tlemen, who did not know when he was
whipped. “ That’s one in on Jimmy.”

The prostrate boy rose, and rushed with the
fur of a mad bull at his smaller foe. But Will
ha all his senses about him. A quick step aside,
a sharp blow under the ear, and an alert trip,
and down went the ragamuﬂin face forward to
the ground.

The shouts grew louder. Jimmy rose more
slowly, and did not seem quite so ready to come
up to the scratch.

“Have ou got enough?” asked Will disdain-
fully. “ re you ready to acknowledge that
you are a coward and bully, that picks out 1it~
tle boys to practice on i”

“No, blast you!” roared the young gamin,
springing hotly forward.

He was no match now for Will. Though the
face of the latter was covered with blood and
dirt, and his eyes half-closed, his heart was
stouter than ever, and his coolness greater.

He parried the heavy blows that were dealt
at him, and dropped his right ﬁst between
Jimmy’s eyes, a square knock-dewn blow.

The discomﬁted young ﬁglhter showed no
signs of getting up again. e lay still, as if
stunned by the shock.

“ I fancy he has got enough of the little chap
he was going to curry down,” sneered Will.
“ Is there any more of you want to try it on? I
am in the humor now.”

The boys shrunk back, as if they did not like
Will’s sty e of ﬁghting.

But the young gutter-snipe that had declared
for fair play stepped forward.

“I wouldn’t mind ﬁghting you,” he said,
“but ’tain’t fair to pile on too much. Guess

ou’ve done your share. And you’re a young
085, clear through. I’ll lick t 9 boy as says
you ain’t. I like you, bully 1”

“Thank you,” said Will, turning away dis~
dainfully. “ If nobody else wants to stop me,
I guess I’ll go on.”

‘When you get all that dirt oﬂyour face,
come up to the store. I want a little talk with
you ” said Mr. Wilson coldly.

Wm looked quickly up, but said nothing.
He turned away with lowered head. The fever
of the ﬁght was over, and he began to think
seriously of the consequences.

Mr. Wilson paused to speak for a moment tc
Will’s ragged backer, and then walked 011‘ in
the opposite direction.

 
CHAPTER II.
A MYSTERY IN THE WIND.

11‘ was the next morning after the ﬁght. In
the private ofﬁce of a lar e mercantile establish-
ment in the lower part 0 the city sat two men,
busilv engaged in conversation. One of these
was Mr. Wilson, the gentleman who had caught
Will in his ﬁght the day before. The other was
Mr. Brown. his partner in the ﬁrm of “ Wilson
& Brown, Linen Merchants.”

H1 398 no other way left,” said Mr. Wilson
decidedly. “The fact is, old Dirk is as sharp
as a razor, and our last move was a mistake.
We have put him On his guard, and it will not
be easy to fool the old coon.”

“We might try Clarence. He has never seen
him,” sug ested Mr. Brown. “ But I fear he is
not shrew enough.”

Mr. Wilson shook his head decidedly.

“ Well, then, why not send a detective? We
can certainly ﬁnd one too sharp for an old
Jersey coaster, like Dirk Dorzan.’

 
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Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective. I 3

 
“You don't know the rogue like I do, or you
might change your mind,’ returned Mr. Wil-
son. “ Let any stran er try to scrape ac-
quaintance with the ol fellow, and he will be
on his uard at once. He is as suspicious as a
rat, an he knows ver well that there is some-
thing in the wind. e must throw him off his
guard and I See only one we .”

“ I don’t know,” said Mr. r0wn doubtfully.
“ The savage old pirate would choke a spy with
as little conscience as he would a cat. I am
not willing to expose the boy to such danger.”

“ Ohl he is shar enough. And he is as brave
as a young lion. here is no give-u in him. I
had proof of that yesterday; an this Idea
ﬂashed at once into my head.”

“ Hush! Here he comes.”

The door of the ofﬁce was opened the next in-
stant, and Will Worth walked into the room.
He was clean and sprucely dressed as usual.
All traces of the fray had been brushed from
his clothes, and washed, as far as possible, from
his face, but the latter bore unmistakable marks
of a hard battle. One eye was swollen and dis-
colored, his upper lip was puffed out, and sev-
eral strips of sticking-plaster covered various
cuts on his face. Altogether Will’s handsome
giuntenance had lost much of its beauty in the

ght.

And he seemed dreadfully d0wncast. He
bung his head with a look of shame, as he stood
before his employers, in whose faces he saw only
cold dis leasure~ They sat looking at him in
silence or a moment, while poor Will seemed
ready to sink through the ﬂoor.

“ I’Vell, sir, I hope you feel better this morn-
ing.” remarked Mr.Wilson, in tones that seemed
to Will coldly scornful. “You had your fun
yesterday. It is, as I told you then, our turn
to—dav.” '

“ Yes, sir,” an5wered Will, sadl but ﬁrmly.
“I am sorry, Mr. Wilson, but if had it to do
‘OVer again I am afraid I would have to whip
that boy again. I can’t stand havin it rubbed
in like he did. Of course, I know have dis-
graced myself.”

“ Oh, you do? You acknowledge that? That’s
clever of on. You would make a good cham-
pion, Wil ; but that’s not what we hired you
for.

“ I know that,” replied Will, lifting his head

with a proud ﬂing, and throwing off his shame-_

faced look “I am very sorry, Mr. Wilson.
But there are some things that can’t be helped.
I think you will ﬁnd everything right. I
did every errand yesterday but that one to
‘Croll & DaWSon, and I sent one of my friends
to do that. That’s all. You’ll ﬁnd my book
correct. There’s a week’s wages due me, but I
don’t care for that. Here’s my key.’

He laid a key on the table efore them, and
turned with a steady step toward the door.
The merchants cast at each other a look of sur-

rise.
p “ Hold, there i” cried Mr. Brown, hastily.
“What do on mean? Where are you going?”

“ I don’t now. I am too old to sell news-
papers. and I don’t suppose I can get another
situation. You have been very good to me, but
I cannot ask you for a reCommendation after
my behavior. But I guess I’ll get something to
do. Good-by, sirsl”

Will’s hand was on the handle of the door as
he spoke. Before he could open it, Mr. Wilson
sprung from his chair and laid his hand ﬁrmly
against the door.

“ See here, little touchvand-go,” he exclaimed,
“just sup so you give us a chance to get a
word in e gewa s before you go of! like a shot
from a shovel. fancy nobody has dischar ed
you yet. I certainly have not. Have you, r.

rown?”

“ Not that I know of.”

“ Do you bear that? We haven’t discharged
you; so you must be discharging us. What have
we done that you are not satisﬁed with?”

The poor boy looked from one to the other
with questioning eyes, into which a new hope
began to rise.

“ But,” he staulmered. “But—I know ou
have been very kind to me. But vou said I ad
my turn yesterday, and you wou d have yours
to—day. know what that means. I didn’t
want to give you the trouble to discharge me.”

“Why, youlproud little monkey, so you won’t
‘be whipped, and you won’t be discharged! You
are bound to take the whip in your own hands,
are you? See here, Will; you ve had your say.
“Tow, listen to me awhile. To begin with, take
this key am.”

Will, with a quick ﬂash of hope in his eyes,
obeyed this order.

“ Now go back to your work. As long as
you continue to do as well as you have always

   
done you needn’t be afraid of losing your posi-
tion. From this week your salary will be in-
creased one dollar per week.”

Will looked with astounded eyes from one
face to the other of his employers. They smiled
at his astonishment.

“ But. sir,” he faltered. “ I cannot take it.
I have done nothing to deserve it. I hope you
will insist on nothing of the kind, for I cannot
take it.”

“ Yes, on can, and you shall. You are a
brave litt e fellow, and that is worth something.
If you had let that boy whip you yesterday I
would have cut d0wn your wages a dollar a
week. As you had the pluck to go on and whip
the youn bully I am goingso give you the extra
dollar. like pluck, my y. Now go to your
work.”

Will continued to look at his employers with
staring eyes, as if he could not quite believe in
this unexpected turn of fortune. Finally he let
fall his cap and kev, and sprung eagerly for-
ward, grasping Mr. ilson’s hand.

“ Oh sir, be gratefully exclaimed, “I will
never or er your kindness. And yours too. Mr.
Brown. on are both far kinder to me than I
deserve. I expect I would have gone to ruin if
you had thrown me on the street, for you know
I have no home. But only give me a chance
and I will make in self a man. I know I have
the stuff in me. if only get the chance.”

“ That you shall have,’ answered his employ-
ers in a breath. “Go on as you have done, and
never take an in ult from a street vagabond.”

" I don’tlike ﬁghting,” anSWered “'ill. “ And
I won’t ﬁght if I can get out of it. But if any
of that gang insult me again I’m going to make
them smart. All but the one fellow who took
my art. I like him. He’s honorable and square
up, if he is rugged and dirty. But can’t I have
two or three days to get my face Well? I’m
ashamed to go out on the street with such a
face as this.”

“Certainly, Will. You can have the rest of
the week. But you will not have to go on the
street a sin soon. We have some other work
cut out or you which will need all your intel-
ligence and courage. If you do it successfully
it will make a man of you at once. If you fail
you will be no worse off than at resent.”

“New work for me?” cried Will, in surprise.
“ What is it, sir?”

“ Never mind now. You will‘ soon learn.
But it will take you away from the city and
into new and rough scenes for a period. You
will need all our wits and all your bravery.
There, that Wil do for the preSent. Go home
now, and try to get your face into shape. Come
here tomorrow at this hour, and we will let you
know what you are to do.”

Will walked from the ofﬁce in a very differ-
ent frame of mind from that with which he had
entered it. He was then disconsolate enough to
in mp overboard and put an end to his troubles.

e was now so full of joy that he was not quite
sure whether he was standing on his head or
his heels. This new and mysterious enterprise
for which he had been chosen. What was it?
What was he to do? A dOZen conjectures ran
through his mind. all of which were dismissed
as improbable. He was so preoccupied that he
heeded not the jests and questions of the sales-
men, who had noticed his disﬁgured face.

“ Look a-here, young gentleman. Can’t you
post me ’bout Where I’ll ﬁnd Wilson & Brown’s
store? I’ve been huntin’ it all ’round here.—
Hello! Shoot me, if ’tain’t the little chap w’ot
licked Jimmy Jones 3”

Will had turned at the ﬁrst words of this ad-
dress, and now recognized the ragged boy who
had seen fair play in the ﬁght. His face lit up
at the recognition.

“ It is you, is it?” he exclaimed. “ I am glad
to see you again. You’re a square boy if you
do have a ragged coat, and if I ever catch an '
body crowin over you, just count me in. y
name is Will orth—what’s yours?”

T “ Topy Thorne. The boys call me Thorny
onv.

“Not a bad name,” answered Will. “You’d
do rime. if on bad a clean face and decent
clot 195. This 13 Wilson 8; Brown’s store. What
do you want?”

‘ I don’t know. It’s them wants me. That
gentleman what guv you Jesse for ﬁghtin’ yes-
terday axed me to stop here today. Dunno
what he wants, but I’m allers in fur snucks.”

A look of surprise came upon Will’s face.
What did this mean? Was it anything connect-
ed with himself? He looked into the shrewd,
freckled face of the boy before him with an
idea of asking him some further questions, but
he checked this intention, and pointed to the
door from which he had just emerged.

 
“ Tl». is is the store. You will ﬁnd Mr. Wilson
in the ofﬁce now.”
Will turned away deeply perplexed, while

Tony entered the store with an independent

ste .

'Fhe merchants were still in their private
ofﬁce engaged in conversation, when the door
was gpened without the ceremony of knocking,
and ony Thoma walked with an easy air into
the room.

“ You axed me to come,” he said apologetic-
all to Mr. Wilson, as he coolly seated himself.
“ ere Iam.”

The merchants checked their conversation,
atnd looked in surprise at their unsavory vis.
i or.

“Oh!” exclaimed Mr. Wilson; “ I know you
now. You are the boy I spoke to at the ﬁght,
yesterday.”

“Jist so. Dunno what you want with me,
but my time ain’t much took up, so I thought
I’d tod le up this we .”

“You go in for air la in a ﬁght, Isee,”
remarked Mr. Wilson, 00 ng at him curi-

011.31%

“ on bet I do! I’dlicked that whole crowd
’fore I’d let ’em heap on that plucky little feller.
That’s my style.”

The merchant sat looking at him for some
moments, as if measuring his caliber. But this
failed to discompose Tony, who sat as easy as an
old shoe. Time was of no consequence to him.

“Answer me now,” began Mr. Wilson.
“ How do you make a living?”

“Sometimes one way, and sometimes an-
other,” answered the ragamuﬁin. “ And
sometimes I don’t make it no way. Then I
sponge on my daddy. When I make a stake he
sponges on me; so we’re square.”

“ You are a sharp and active—looking fellow.
Would not you like a good paying job?"

“ That depends. I manage to scrub through.
’Tain’t every job I’d take up.”

“ This you will ﬁnd a proﬁtable one. It will
take you from the city, and will call for the use
of all your wits. There is no hard Work about
it. but it will be more of a holiday than a task.
You may, however, have some adventure, and
possibly may go through some danger. But
you look as if vou would not be afraid. ’

“ Don’t calk’late I will,” answered Tony easi~
ly. “ Tell you what, that's just the kind of a
job I’m out out for, if it’s honest, and this is
the fust time it ever turned up. I’ll jist snatch
on to it like a monkey would snatch a peanut.
Peg it out. I’m on hand.”

During the next hour the merchants continued
closeted with their ragged visitor, much tothe
surprise of their clerks, who had taken Tony
for an impudent beggar.

 
CHAPTER III.
A BUN ACROSS THE JERSIES.

A WEEK has passed since the date of the con—
ference of the two boys with Messrs. Wilson &
Br0wn. It has been anything but an idle week
with them, for they have been kept busy with
preparations for t eir mysterious enterprise,
and with directions how they are to act.

“ You understand now ” said Mr. Wilson, as
a farewell warning. “0 course we can only
lay out for you a general plan. You must use
your own Wits for the remainder. Nobody can
tell beforehand what circumstances may arise;
and you will need to be wide-awake for every-
thing. Keep to your general plan whatever
ma happen.”

‘ Why don’t you arrest this man. and make '

him tell before the court?” ueried Will.

“ There is an old prover , my boy, that you
can bring a horse up to the rack but you can’t
make him eat,” answered Mr. Wilson, with a
lau h. “ It is that way with Dirk Dorgan. If
he on’t choose to spea he won’t speak for all
the courts in the land. If we want the truth
we must cheat it out of him. Nobody can
squec ze it out of him."

“ J ist you bet we‘re the larks as ’11 do that,”
returned Tony Thorne, with a look of assur-
ance. “ We’re a~goin' to be saddled by no old
water-dog.”

“Don‘t be too conﬁdent,” warned the mer-
chant. “ If you make a false move he will see
through you as easy as you would see through
a pane 0 glass. And now good-by, and good-
luck. Here is the train.”

They were soon rolling over the broad level
of New Jersey in a fast-ﬂying train. through
desolate reaches of pine forest, and over broad
stretches of barren sands toward the distant
coast, and the far-oi! tumbling ocean. .

As they proceed on their journey we m is
give a little closer attention to the two boys, ' o:

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they are considerably changed since we last
made their acquaintance.

Will Worth has changed his quiet business
suit. for a tasty, fashionable rig, that giVes him
something of the aspect of a young dandy. He
wears a rather loud cravat, with a diamond

in, and a diamond ring ﬂashes on his ﬁnger.

e also sports a watch, with a showy chain,
and altogether seems a young gentleman of
Wealth and leisure.

Thorny Tony is squall transformed. His
face is as clean as if it h been scrubbed with
a rollingopin, and his rags have been replaced
with a neat, well-made suit, of plain, but ser-
viceable material. He sports no jewelry like
Will, and there has been no effort to make a
gentleman of him. That would have been im—

ssible. He looks rather like a poor boy, who

as been cared for by careful parents.

“ My, wouldn’t the fellows stare if they seen
use now i” laughed Tony, as he looked at himself
with rest satisfaction.

Wil could but enjoy the new pride of his
companion.

“ You don’t know what a sp -looking fellow
you are,” he remarked, with a 00k of admira—
tion. “Your new clothes have made another
boy of you. I think we are both changed.”

“ You bet!” answered Tony. “ You’re an out-
and out sport; a reg’lar little dude. My eyes,
won’t you play hob with the gals! You've got
to guv up ﬂ htin’. Nobby young gentlemen,
like on, don t ﬁght.”

“ hope they will leave me alone then. I
don’t want to d ht. But what if they come
crowding on me? ’

“Oh! you leave that to me. I’ll scrub ’em.
There’s nothin’ I like better nor a good rough-
and-tumble.”

“That will never do,” answered Will decid-
edly. “We are not to know one another, re-
member that. And if we come to ether there’s
got to be had blood between us. hose are the
orders, on know.”

Tony ooked at him in momentary surprise,
and then burst into a loud laugh.

“ That’s sol I forgot.” he acknowledged. “ It’s
arum go, anyhow. Don’t you speak cross to
me down yonder, for I don’t take in no stuck-
up dudes. J ist as leave pickle your pretty face
as look at you.”

Will echoed Tony’s laugh.

“If you try it on I‘ll serve on out as I did
Jimmy Jones,” he answered. ‘ I am bound to
stand up for the rights of the aristocracy.”

On and on rolled the train, through ﬁelds and
woods, and t wide, slimy swamps, that seem-
ed to be the aunts of fevers. Here and there
appeared a village, and some well-cultivated
farms;but the most of the journey was through
a cedar wilderness.

Miles and miles of such a countr were left
behind them. They continued to ta k at inter
vals; and at other intervals contented them-
selves with using out of the car windows. The
warm breat of summer was in the air, and
everything was clothed in its greenest verdure,
so far as the sandy soil permitted. At length
the young travelers broke into another line of
conversation, which we must repeat, since it is
of some interest to our readers.

“ You ought to see my dad l” exclaimed Tony.
“ Tell you what, he’s a boss. He’s terrible bi ,
and strong as a buffalo. Why, he used to ho d
me strai t out with one hand, and spank me
with t’ot er. My, couldn’t be slap!”

“ Don’t he work?” asked Will, thinking of
Tony’s disreputable appearance.

“ Yes; when he can’t git no whisky. He’s too
fond of his hitters, that’s the trouble.”

“ I hope you. don’t touch it?”

“ Not much l” and Tony set his lips ﬁrmly.
“ Seen too much of it. Nobody but a fool med-
dles with a dog arter he’s seen how it kin bite.
I ain’t that sort of a fool, nary time. What
kind of a dad have you got? I bet he couldn’t
lick mine.”

“ I have none,” answered Will sadly. “ I
have neither father nor mother; never had.”
“Never had? Whew! That’s a lark!”

“ Never to know, I mean. They were both
dead before I knew anything. I don’t know
any more about them than for their names,
they were or people, and I was knocked
about when was young.”

“ Is that so?” asked Tony, with great interest.
“I’ve been knocked about, too, though not the
mine way. Tell me all about it; dunno but it’d
been better for me, for I ain‘t had no scroughin’
Iort of a good time.”

“The ﬁrst I remember,” answered Will
thoughtfully, " I was living with an old woman
away down town. Old Mother Luke, the folks
ﬂed to call her. I was a tiny little tot then-

i
|

 
not much bigger than a horsechestnut. But
she made me go out and beg for cold scraps
with a basket. When 1 got bigger I had to
learn to play the ﬁddle, and go out and play for
pennies.”

“ That must ha’ been nice! Can you play yet?”

“ Oh yes~~a little. But it wasn’t so very
nice, for the old woman used to beat me dread-
fully if I didn’t bring enough in.”

“ She did?” exclaimed Tony, his eyes snap-
ping. “ And she wasn’t your mother, neither?
I’d never stood that, nohow. I’d run away.”

“ So did I,” answered Will. “ She threw up
to me one day that I was only a stray, and that
my parents were not what they ought to be.
That stirred up my blood, and when I went out
that day I didn’t come back again.”

“ Bully for you! But what did you do?”

“ All sorts of things. I sle t an where that
I could get a chance to snugg e, an I eat any-
thing, and did all kinds of jobs. Sometimes,
when I got very bad off, I played the ﬁddle
and that always paid, for they called me a go
player.”

‘ Why didn’t you stick to it then i”

“Because I was afraid of Mother Luke, who
was always looking for me. She saw me some-
times, too, and I had to run like a killdeer.”

“ But you could have gone into the country,
or to some other town?”

“I had another reason for not playing,” re-
joined Will. “ It was too much like begging,
and I didn’t want to grow up a beggar. I al-
ways wanted to be respectable, and to do hon-
est work.”

Tony looked at his companion with some ad-
miration.

“ That didn’t trouble this chicken,” he re-
marked. “ l allers dug in for a good time. Had
it, too, you bet! Kind of liked ragged clothes, for
I didn t git licked fur tearin’ them. And I got
so used to bein’ pounded by the boys that I
didn’t mind dad’s lickin’s one bit. 1 tell you,
I’ve had it 011 .”

Will shoo his head doubtfully.

“ There’s two kinds of lives, Tony; one for
sport, and one for duty. The last is my kind
and I think it pa 3 best in the long run. But I
may as well ﬁnish]. I grew up, as I said, in all
sorts of ways. I tried everything,holdin horses,
blacking shoes, and sellin pers. I ve had

eanut stands and apple has e 5. Then I carried
or a market-man for a good while. He took
me in his family, after a while, and I’m living

with him now.’

“ Good for him! What’s his name?”

“ Adam S rks. He has a huckster stand in
Spring Gar en Market. He was ever so good
to me, he and his wife. I had to Work hard, but
they sent me to night-school, and gave me an
education.”

“ And got you in Wilson & Brown’s store?”

“ Oh, nol I got that position myself. I
thought it was time I was learning somethin
better than carrying a market-basket. So
looked around for a place, and got one. I‘ve
been there now for near three years.”

“ Do you like it?”

“ I guess I do! They are ever so kind. And
I don’t mind the work one bit.”

“ It’s ueer,” answered Tony, thoughtfully.
“ I don’t think I’d like it. I want room round
me, and don’t like nobody to tell me what I’m to
do. Guess I’m born for a street rat. Somehow a
situation is like a cage that thev fasten a bird
in. Calk’late I’m a wild bird. ayn’t git fed
as nice, but I’ve got more room to stretch my
wings.”

Will shook his head with a knowing smile.

“ It won’t do, Tony. Everybody in this
world is in a cage, and can’t get out of it. Some
may ﬂy a little further than others, but they
are sure to hit against the bars before they go
far. Better have a little cage, well furnished,
than a big em ty one.”

the Vagabond Detectiv

“ Maybe so, ’ answered Tony, with a meaning 1

shrug. “ Guess my dad‘s one of the bars of my
cage, and I plug up ag’iii’ him pretty often.
Anyhow these good clothes don't feel quite
right. I ain’t half as independent in ’em as in
my old rags. But let’s drop all that. How
’bout Mother Luke? Seen her since?”

“Yes. I don’t care for her now. And [
don’t believe she knows me. She has got to be
a very old woman that goes dragging along
the streets till I can’t help being sorry for her.”

“There’s no use bein sorrv fur that kind,”
declared Tony. “ You can’t help them. They’re
past help. They’d only be miserable if you

at ’em n a palace. Let ’em alone and they’re

appy. I know it, ’cause I’Ve been as hap y as
a king with, a ragged coat and a crust p cked
out o the gutter; and I’m half miserable now
in this decent rig, and a pocket full of cash.”

‘ liei‘iim-scarum

 
Q“l'

6.

Will looked at his odd companion as one

might look at some new species of animal. He
hardl knew what to make of him.

“ hat’s that ueer smell in the air?” he at-
length asked. “ t smells just like a heap of
oysters.”

“ It’s the salty ocean,” answered Tony, with
a look of superior wisdom. “ This ain’t the ﬁrst.
time I’ve been down here to smell the salt Seas.
Look out here. Do you see that blue line away
of! yondgr, where the sky comes down?”

“Well, that’s the Atlantic ocean. That’s the
big duck-pond that stretches out forever and
ever, thousands and thousands of miles, with.
the sharks and the whales swimming under~
neath, and men steaming and sailing overhead.
Lawseel you bet I don’t peg out afore I git over
it, to see t’other side.”

Will was silent, with his eyes ﬁxed with
strange sensations on the distant liquid line.
That was the ocean—the mighty, the grand!
His heart swelled with new emotions as he look-1
ed upon it, and the great earth seemed to glrow
tenfold greater at this ﬁrst vision of the sub ime-
seas.

“ These are the salt marshes which we’re
runnin’ over now,” explained Tony. “Andi
yonder’s the town where we’re to land. Guess.
we’d best split jist here. We’re strangers from.
this on. Don’t forget that.”

“Very true ” answered Will. “Our worlc
begins now. We must let nothing stand be-
tween.”

“I’m goin’ to take that empty seat. Don’t
on look cross-ways at me, for I’m down on.
ristocrats.”

Will laughed as Tony moved away from him
to another part of the car.

Five minutes after, the train rolled into the
station at the seaside village of Micmac, and

came slowly to a dead halt.

CHAPTER IV.
a nor’s BOLD CHALLENGE.

THE Seaside House was the (principal hotel of'
Micmac. The little t0wn ha long vegetated
as a ﬁshing village, but since the annual run of
summer visitors to the sea-shore it had got its.

rand hotel, and its rows of boarding cottages,
for the accommodation of the pleasure-seekers
from the cities.

These stood in the new town, on the south
side of the narrow river, that there made its:
way to the sea. On the north side was the old
town, a series of rattle-down frame shanties,
which looked across in sturdy independence at,
the spruce, new habitations beyond the
stream.

The two he 5 had separated on reachin the
town. Will ad taken a room at the otel,
where he played the part of a young entle-
man of wealth and leisure. It was lat-e in the
season, and most of the guests had departed,
but some yet remained, taking advantage of
the pleasant September weather.

Thorny Tony on the contrary, had gone to live
with his unce. in the old town, beyond the
stream. It is true that this uncle was manufac-
tured for the occasion, out of a shrewd old.
ﬁsherman, who would have accepted ﬁfty
nephews, on the persuasion of Mr. Wilsons
cash. Just why t e boy was saddled on him
he did not know, and did not take the trouble-
to ask. He was well paid for taking him in,
and keeping his secret and that was enough tor
old Jake Dumps. if e had been asked to Cull
Old Nick his grandfather, or Beelzebub his.
grandson, on the same terms, he would not
have hesitated for an instant, and would have
explained the relationship to everybody’s
satisfaction.

Tony had taken the role of a poor boy, that
had to work for his living, and he at once
Logan to assist old Jake in his summer business
or taking out fishing parties of visitors. The
boy was delighted with this
Vocation, and took hold of it in a way that
charmed the old waterman.

“Blame in eyes,” he growled to one of his
aSsociates, “if the boy ain’t got a peck o’ brains
in his headpan. Its my poor sister Lizy’s
son, Joe, as pegged out ast June. The lad’s
city born, but he’s got it. Thought I’d have
my hands full: but, rdl he’ll be a help,
instead of a bother.”

Will, on the other hand, assumed a very dif-
ferent role. He was down for sport, not for
work, and put on a multitude of airs as he
lounged about, switching his tasty cane, with it!
ivory dog’s-head, and making rapid ac
ance with the youn gentlemen and in ice of
the place. He he provided himself With I
pair of eyeglasses, wh ch he wore in edan

 
uaint- ‘

 
mun “Ar...

 
ta.» 

, /

fony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective. 5

 
fashion that completed his air of a dude. Folks
looked at him with secret smiles, as they saw
the young swell proudly strutting around.

“What an untrimmed little peacock,” mut-
tered one old merchant, with a sneering laugh.
“If a boy of mine was to put on such airs, han
me if I wouldn’t dust his coat for him till
cured him of all such tomfoolery. Ought to
be put in a glass cage, and shown around at ten
cents a head. That’s about all he’s ﬁt for.”

But such ill~natured remarks little troubled
Master Will, who played his part to admira-
tion. He Seemed to have plenty of money, and
abundance of clothes, and on a ﬁne afternoon,
several days after his arrival, found himself in
the old town, dressed in a tasty suit of blue
ﬂannel, in readiness for a ﬁshing excursion.

“ 1 hope there’s no danger of getting sea-sick,”
he said, playing carelessly with his cane. “ I
am not used to the salt water, you know.”

“It’s as quiet as a baby on the inlet,” an-
swered the ﬁsherman addressed. “ And I’ve
got the stanchest boat on the island. Don’t on
have a ghost of a fear. What’s more, I al ers
take a chunk of salt pork along, to cure them as
is s ueamish.”

“ alt pork! Oh mercy l” exclaimed Will.
“ I never could abi e salt pork.”

“ Guv the babby some melasses taﬂy,” growl-
«ed another man who was standing alongside, in
avoice like the grumble of a nor’wester. “And
swipe him down with a hunk of oakum. Blow
me for a pirate, if I wouldn’t like to make a
spread-eagle of the little chin dolll”

He walked away with a loo of utter disgust.
Will gazed at him. He was a short, squat ﬁg-
Iure, with a great width of shoulder, and was
dressed in a suit of dreadnaught, well covered
with oil and ﬁsh-scales.

His face was harsh and rugged, with some-
thing of reckless ferocity in its expression.
But the small, twinkling eyes told a different
:story; they expressed sharpness and cunning.
He seemed to be about ﬁfty years of age, and
was as weather—beaten as if he had been ex-
posed to the sea-weather for his whole life.

“ Who is this complimentary gentleman?”
asked Will, in a tone loud enou h to reach the
ears of the rude waterman. “ am not aware
that I asked him any uestions.”

“ Hush l” warned the sherman. in a cautious
tone. “That’s Dirk Dorgan. You’d best keep
clear of him, my young sprout. Just shut your
ears when Dirk 3 about, if you want to keep out
of trouble.”

“Dirk Dorgan,” answered Will, in a loud,
deﬁant tone, but with a secret sense of satisfac-
tion. “ He can call himself Dick Devilsmouth,
for all it troubles me, and save his breath to
cool his porridge. When I want his slack, I’ll
ask for it.”

This deﬁant speech reached the ears for which
it was intended. Dirk turned quickly back,
with a ﬂashing eye and lowering counte-
'nance.

“Do you know who you are talkin’ to, Hop-
o’-my-thumb.’” he asked, in a tone of sup-
pressed thunder. “You young jackanapes, do
you think to come down here and lord it over
old salts that’s weathered more gales than
you’ve got dollars? Shoot yer puny picture, if
you come buzzin’ round me I’ll take you up be-
tween my ﬁnger and thumb, and make you sing
wuss than a swamp musketeer.”

The ﬁshermen, who knew Dirk’s furious tem-
per, drew back a step at this explosion. The
angry giant lowered over Will, as if he would
crush him wlth his weight. Yet the boy, as
we know, had plenty of courage, and was not
the one to cower before a blustering bully. He
stood erect, without yielding a step, and IOHkt-d
with a steady eye into Dirk’s gloomy face.
while he switched his cane as carelessly as if he
had been engaged in a pleasant conversation.

“How do you sell ground around here, by
the square foot?” asked Will, with provoking
«ease. “ I should judge, by the way you lord it,
that you own the whole country. Every Cock
=can crow on his own dunghill, they say, and
I’d like to buy enough from you to make me a
dunghill to crow on.” .

This bold deﬁance seemed to doubly infuriate
the angry waterman. He closed his brawny ﬁst,
that looked big enough to annihilate Will with
a blow, while his bushy brows contracted with

re e.

gSol” he roared, with the growl of a hurri-
cane, “ you’re tryin’ to gibe me, are you? I’m
afeard to hit you, for fear I’d smash you like I
would a ﬂy. But, shiver my timbers, if I don’t
duck some of the sauce out of you.”

He extended his hand and grasped Will’s
collar with a ﬁrm grip. The bo made no ef-
ifort to escape, and not a shade o dread passed

 
over his countenance as he continued to face his
burly opponent.

“ All right,” answered Will. “ You are the
strongest. Go ahead; I won’t resist. It’s your
turn now, so make the most of it. After you are
done, we’ll have this little talk out in another
fashion.”

“ What do you mean?” cried Dirk, loosin his
hold in astonishment at the boy’s unﬁinc ing
boldness. “ Is the little city canary-bird tryin
to threaten me? Blast me, if that ain’t a jo e!
He laughed with a sound like the sawing of tim-
ber. “Come, you want to go out a-ﬁshing.
Step into my boat; I’ll give you a lesson in the
bizness.”

“ I’m your man,” answered Will promptly.
“ Fetch out your boat.”

“ You’ll go with me?” queried Dirk, in sur-

rise.

“ You bet I will! I’m only a boy, but when I
say a thing, there’s no back-down in me.”

Dirk looked him over from head to foot with
a curious gaze. He then turned away with a
low whistle of surprise.

“ Stick to it, my ame-cock,” he growled.
“ You’ve guv er wor , and go you shall.”

“ Go I will, if you’re not afraid to take me,”
answered the boy, with a tantalizing assur-
ance.

Dirk seemed on the mint of returning some
angry retort. But a change passed over his face,
and he turned and walked away without a
word.

The ﬁshermen around, who had kept silent,
though with unezsy looks, during this conversa-
tion, now hasten to warn Will of the danger
he was runnin .

“ Don’t thin of going with him, warned
oue. “ He’s up to some trickery. I know that
look of his. You’d best take a set over the river
before he comes back.”

“Jump into my boat!” cried another. “ Dirk’s
a reckless rogue, and means you harm. Jump
in, and I’ll row you over.”

“Not much!” anSWered Will decidedly. “ If
he’s ready to take me, I’m ready to go. I never
backed down from fear yet, and I don’t think
I’ll begin now.” '

“ But you don’t know this man, you foolish
little chap. He’s a terror, I tell you, and I
haven’t seen him in such a rage for a year.
Dirk’s an old wrecker and pirate, they say.
He’s equal toﬂinging you overboard and towing
you ashore at the stern of his boat.”

“ I’ll take the chances,” answered Will, switch-
ing his leg easily with his ﬂexible cane. “ I’m
on y a boy, and ain’t expected to know much.
But I’ve always heard that the way to tame a
tiger is to keep your eye on it, and sh0w no
Weak blood. I’m going to plug' that game with
this tiger, and I wager that bring him back
tame.’

The grizzled men looked with surprise on this
bold boy, and shook their heads doubtfully.
His courage seemed to them the foolish reckless-
ness of youth, yet they could not help admiring
it. A man of ripe judgment and discretion
would scaresly have taken such an unnecessary
risk, but there is no limit to the daring of a

’1

V.

While the continued to converse Dirk’s boat
came aroun a bend of the river, moving on«
ward rapidly under his lon ,sinewy strokes.
The water curled in foam be ore it as it came
dashing on.

“Once more,” said the ﬁrst spokesman.
“ You had better take warning.”

“I am going with him,” answered Will de-
cidedly. “I intend to let him see Iam not
afraid of him. He doesn’t expect to see me
here when he returns, but he will see me.”

Evidently Will was right, for there was a
look of surprise in Dirk’s eyes as he beheld the
boy waiting for him on the river-bank, in the
same easy, graceful attitude.

At this moment two other persons walked up
to the group. One of these was a wrinkled,
grizzled old waterman, who looked as if the
storms of seventy winters had blown u on his
Countenance. The other was a b0v 0 about
Will’s age. a short, stout, open-faCed youth,
dressed in the rough habilimenls of a ﬁsherman.

It was Jake Dumps and his new nephew,
transformed already nto a son of the sea in ap—
pearance. The two boys looked at each other,
without a sign of reco nition in their eyes.
Tony cast a disdainful g ance over Will’s tasty
ﬂannel suit, and then looked down with satis-
faction at his own rough but serviceable dress.

“Lawsee, what a swell!” he muttered, in the
hearing of the fisherman.

“You’re a well-built sort of a chap,” re-
marked Will carelessly. “ Do you go out boat.
ing?

 
“You bet. Boatin’, gunnin’, ﬁshin’, anything
you want.”

“ Very good. I’ll hire you some day for a
round. Just now I’ve hired this old salt.”

He pointed to Dirk, who had walked u“
after landing his boat.

” Hired me, boy?” he harshly asked.

“Yes. I expect to pay for my sport. Are

you ready?”
“All ready. Step in. If you don’t like til
for it. ’

sport, you needn’t pa

“ I won’t,” answer Will, as he sprung into
the boat.

Dirk followed him, with a queer look on his
bronzed features. A few strokes of the 0a
and the boat darted out into the river an
headed for the sea.

The ﬁshermen on the shore continued looking
and gravely conversing, in great doubt if they
had been wise to permit the reckless boy to go
out with the hardened old ruman.

After a few minutes the grou broke up
Tony and his new-found uncle taking boat, and
rowing out into the stream.

CHAPTER V.
WILL PUTS HIS READ IN THE LION‘s nouns.

THE two boats moved down the river at no
great distance apart, that containin Thorny
Tony and his read -made uncle in t e rear of
that which held Wil and Dirk.

The latter looked back with a scowling
glance at the following boat, as if with the idea
that it was in pursuit of him. With his ﬁerce
temper and giant strength few boatmen of the
vicinity would have ventured to play the spy on
his movements. His lip curled as he recog-
nized Jake Dumps.

“ No fear 0’ him,” he muttered. “The sly
old rat is gpt sense enough to tend to his own
biz’ness. e knows which side his bread’s but-
tered."

Under his strong strokes the boat shot rapid-
ly forward, soon eavin the river and darting
out into the open sea. are a fresh wind met
them, that seemed strengthening every minute.
The surf broke heavily over the bar that lay OR
the river’s mouth, and ﬁlled the air with that
monotonous voice of the ocean, that never
ceases to moan and roar.

They turned up the coast, through the quiet
water inside the bar, where the wild roll outside
was turned into an uneasy heave.

“ You kin get seasick nowif you banker arter
it,” growled Dirk, as the boat tossed unpleasant-
ly. “Only I ain’t got no salt-pork like old Toby
promised you.”

“ I reckon I won’t t it on then,” Will pleas-
antly answered from his seat at the tiller. “ I’ve
no notion of spoiling my sport by any such non-
sense.”

As they rowed on Jake Dumps fell furtherbe-
hind, as if he had no thought of pursuit. In half
an hour he vanished from sight in the windings
of the inlet channel which they had entered. A
long island here cut of! the breakers, and left a
broad stream of quiet water between it and the
mainland, the favorite ﬁshing-grounds of the
settlement.

Jake’s boat rowed slowly on into the mouth
of the inlet. The old ﬁsherman shook his griz
zled head, as he twisted around on his seat to
gaze forward.

“I don’t like this bizness none too well,” he
dubiously remarked. “ The boy is a risky little
jackdaw to trust hisself with Dirk arter ﬁingin’
sass in that rough chap’s face. Dirk don’t hear
a ﬁg for the law when he’s mad; and he’s got
the devil inside his skin as big as a barn-door.”

" I guess he won’t eat nobody alive without
salt,” returned Tony. “The little swell ain’t no
slouch, you kin see that in his eyes. Who is
this terror, as is got all the folks hereawa s on
their knees afnre him? Hope he don’t take no
bite at n.e. I bet you, if he does, that I’ll lay
grossways in his throat. Jist peg out all about

1m

 
“ ’Tain‘t much anybod knows.” answered the
old man, as he continue to ply his oars. “He’I
been livin’ on this coast nigh on to twenty year
and he ain’t made a friend in all that time. An
’bout his bizness, there ain’t an oyster keeps his
shells sbet tighter.”

“But. you know something ’bout him,” r-
sisted Tony. “ He talks a good deal. h ,
I’ve had some chats with him myself. Nobogy
can’t talk fur twenty year without lettin’aomoo
""“i>‘.’3§i” lit 1 H 1d 111' band

“ ous t e. is o ' e is u
and laid away somewhere out of sight. How!
somedever, there’s same p’ints as folks think
they know. Borne on ’um says as Dirk
was a re ’lar irate in his young'days. Bu - .
that is al blat er. Nobody knows naught ’bou"


H
I,

‘r

  
56

i

  
l

a

Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective.

 
it. There’s others says as he was a wrecker,
and haslured more nor one ship ashore with
false lights. 80 far’s I’m consarned, I never
says what I don’t know.”

“ A wrecker?” repeated Tony, thoughtfully.

I “ Is that since he came on this coast t"

“ VVh he’s blamed fer the barque, Emir a, as
some as ore on the island sands ’bout seventeen
ears ago. I won’t say what’s in it, ‘cause I
on’t know. There was only one man come
ashore alive, and he told a queer story ’bout
false lights. There was suspicion ’hout Dirk,
'but nobody couldn’t nail it on him.”

“ Only the man?” ccliocd Tony.

“ And a hiby. He bruiig a baby ashore,
alive. But it disappeared while he was in a
swoon. Where it went to the Lord knows.
Only Dirk hIrSt‘if was out o’ sight fur two weeks
arter.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Tony, greatly interested.
"‘ And hasn’t iiothiii’ turned up ‘bout that there
baby since 6“

“Not a hair. There's a suspicion allers hung
to Dirk. He‘s had strange visitors occasional,
and gone away on long journeys. And one
night, when he’d took too much, Iherrcd him
mySelfsweai-in’ fearful ‘bout Some man as he
was bein’ revenged on. But he‘s a dark and a
furious chap, and I wouldn’t like to be the one
to say baby to him.”

He rowed on silently for several minutes, seem-
ingly 10st in deep reﬂection. He then continued
his remarks, as if comniuning with himSclf.

“ There’s been folks down here a many a
time since then, pokiii’ ’round ’bout that baby.
And more nor one‘s tried to play sharp on Dirk.
But ’tweren‘t nchr no Use. You mought as
well try to squeeze honey outer an oak tree as
make him sell his secrets. 'Tain’t three months
since a gentleman from the city was down, as
had a fearful uarrel with Dirk. I know it,
fur I happene< to catch a few words. The
rufﬁan buffed him, and told him to his face
that he had the squeeze on him, and was goin’
to keep it. He’s an awful man, I tell you, and
I hope that little ninny won’t git inter trouble
by stirrin’ him up. I’d jist as soon wake up a
hornets’ nest with a pine. Switch. Guess we‘d
best ﬂing in our lines here fur a try, Tony.
Ther’s promise 0’ ﬁsh.”

“Best row on to where. we nipped ’em so n at
yesterday,” answered Tony. “ I‘ve a whim
they’ll bite spryer ther .”

"Ther’ it is ag’in. The boys is wiser than
their granddaddies. All right. I’ll let you see
who knows best, the old rooster or the young
’un.”

He rowed on, with a grim smile of sarcasm.

But we must leave them and return to the
other boat, which had continued its course
until it was a. mile or two ahead. Many ﬁsher-
men had been passed, all of them returning,
and one of them had called out to Dirk.

“Best not stay too late. There‘s an ugly
cloud rising in the eastern effing. There'll be a
fresh gale by night, and the surt"s rolling
heavy. You may ﬁnd trouble in niaking,the
river.”

“Thank ye for nothin‘,” gravvled Dirk. “ Of
course I’m a greenhorn, and dunno what I‘m
about. But I ain’t never been the man yet to up
and run from a capful of wind.”

The other rowed on, a little angry at the
ungracious reception of his well-meant warning.

Shortly after they reached the desired ﬁshing-
grounds, and got in their lines. The ﬁsh seemed
plentiful and bit readily, and it was not long
are they began to show Some results of their
I ort in the scaly prey that lined the bottom of
the boat.

“This is ﬁne sport.” said Will gayly, as he
took a large ﬁsh from his hook and rebaited it.
“ I never saw better ﬁshing.”

He might have safely said that he had never
Ioen any ﬁshing at all.

“Fine fun, is it?” queried Dirk. “ It’s nothin’
to the fun that I’ll show you arter a while.
You’ll catch somethin’ worth talkin’ about afore
you’ve done your day’s sport.”

There was a secret meaning in his tone that
made Will look up quickly into his dark faca.
He saw there only a sarcastic smile of threaten-
in aspect, though it revealed nothing.

gut the boy was soon too deeply interested in
his sport to heed such mysterious indications.
The ﬁsh bit freely, and every few minutes he
added one to the heap, while Dirk caught them
Itill more rapidly.

“They bite well in stcrnny weather,” remark-
od Dirk.

“ What do you call these fish?”

“Well, the most on ’em is weakﬂsh. That
chop over there is a. sea-trout, and this little fel-
M in a bus.”

 
“And the one I‘ve got on my book now?”
asked Will, as he brought up a heavy ﬁsh that
t00k all his strength to land.

“ It’s a sheepsheadl” exclaimed Dirk, with
some enthusiasm, as be grasped the ﬂapping ﬁsh.
“ Well done, boy. That’s one of the gentleman
ﬁsh of the waters. It’s a wonder you fancy
sports would ever be satisﬁed with less.”

“I always catch what comes to my book,”
answered '11], with easy assurance; “big ﬁsh
or little. I’m after a big ﬁsh now, but I‘m ready
to take whatever bites.”

“ And I’m arter a little ﬁsh,” grumbled Dirk,
as he bent his dubious face over the game; “ and
my ﬁsh has hooked hisself a’ready. Fish 0’ that
sort are born fohls, you know”

Will cast an uneasy glance at his companion.
Just what. he meant was not evident, but the
heedless boy began to wish that he had not been
so hasty in putting himself in his power.

The afternoon was now moving rapidly on
toward night. The sun was well down in the
west, and as it sunk the wind strengthened. It
rufﬂed the water before it, and struck with
a shivering chill upon the bodies of the ﬁsher-
men.

“ Hadn’t we better return?" asked Will. “ It
will be night in an hour more."

“ Guess niebbe we had.” ,Dirk seized the oars,
and began to row onward.

“ But you are going in the wrong direction.”

“ Reckon not. You’re down here to l’arn
soniethin’. Guess I’ll take you in hand, and guy
you a lesson.”

“ What do you mean?" asked Will, alarmed
and indignant.

“ Oh, notliin’ much. Let me tell you one
thing, though. When you want to play the
little game 0’ puttin‘ your head in the lion’s
mouth. you oughtn’t to stir up the lion first.”

“You mean to do me some harm, then? Is
that it?“

“ 21, no! I wouldn‘t scrape a hair 0’ yer
innercent head. But l’m afeared my boat ain't
’ristercatic enough for a nice gentleman like yer
lordship. I won’t ax you to stay in it.”

“ Then you do intend some violence?" re-
marked “'ill, with recovered cOolness. “ Very
well, sir. I was willing to be your friend. You
are determined that I shall be your enemy. I
accept the decision. You can have your turn,
but mine will be sure to come.”

“How the little cock docs crow,” returned
Dirk, with pretended admiration. “I’m ralely
afearerl to keep you aboard. My boat’s too
crank fur sich a liVer crower. But hurt you!
Mercy, no! Not fur the world.”

He dropped the. oars as he spoke. The boat
was close on to a little low grassy island, which
lay in the middle of the channel, here very
wide. In a minute more the bow grounded on
the island shore.

“I hope it won’t hurt yer delicate feelin’s if
I request you to step ashore. It’s a pretty little
island, and you kin have it all to yerself.
There‘ll be nothin’ to trouble ye, 'cept the mo-
skeeters; and they kin sing ye to sleep.”

“ I shall do nothing of the kind,” cried Will.
“Take me back to the town, or you shall be
sorry for it.”

“I ain't been sorry fur anything fur such a.
time, that I won’t mind tryin‘ it on. Guess it’ll
feel good. Come, now, my little spark. Git—
skip! Ashore with you, afore I pitch you out
like a bale o’ cotton.”

He rose and stepped toward Will, extending
his brawny arms. It was very evident that the
slight-built boy would be like a feather in his

rasp.
g “ Hands off!” cried Will, haughtily. “ Don’t
pollute me with your touch! You are the
stronger. and I must submit. But a hornet can
sting an elephant. Beware. Dirk Dorgan! I
will have reVr-nge for this outrage."

He sprung ashore as he spoke.

“ All right. my cove! I hope some boat will
be along to take you up. But I'm sadly afeared
you will have to keen com iany with the nio-
skeeters all ni ‘ht. You kin spend your time
l‘ar:.in’ how to eep your tongue out 0’ older
folks’ pies. Good-night and happy dreams.”

He pushed off, with a mocking laugh, and
rowed resolutely away, leaving Will solitary
and disconsolate on the shore oftbe little island,
whose highest spot rose scarce a foot above the
high tide mark of the sea.

Not another boat was in sight. The sun sunk
lower and 10wer. The wind swept by in ﬁrful
gales. The rufﬂed water beat in foam on the
grassy shores. No one could tell what would be
the result of that night’s vigil. The sea might
rise so as to sweep the island from end to end,
and carry its single inhabitant out into the piti-
lesa waves.

 
CHAPTER VI.
A DROWNED OUT ISLAND.

THE sun touched with its lower edge the west.
ern horizon, and shot its level rays in a last
glance over the sandy plains. There was some-
thing lurid and angry in its light, and in the
ashv owrhanging ctouds, whose edges were lit
with a sulphury tinge.

The Wind moaned through the desolate pines
that bent their limbs away from the ocean as in“
in fear. From far across the waters the wind
rushed and whistled, heaping up the waves be-
fore it, and causing the surf to break with a hol~
10w roar on the beach.

The tide was still rising. It was already much
above its usual level, and the high-tide mark
would not be. reached yet for an hour.

A group of watermen sti ed on the beach of
the old town, looking out to sea, and earnestly
Conversmg.

“ it’ll be sich a tide as we ain’t had since ’ “ ,.”
remarked one. “ It‘s a’readv a foot ’bove its.
highest mark, and it’s got afoot more 0‘ raise
in it.”

“ And the surf’s tremendous,” replied another.
“It’s a marcy if the bath-houses t’other side the:
river don-rt go by the board. I’ve allers said
they was built risky. The old ocean mought be
a baby to play with when it's in a good humor.
But it’s a terror when it gits its mad up.”

“ There’ll be wrecks atore the night‘s over,”
rejoined the ﬁrst speaker. “ There’s ullei‘s some
fool of a, skipper to hUg the shore in a iior’caster;
and down he goes to Davy Jones in a whiff.”

“ Who‘s that comin’.‘ I thought the boats
was all in."

“Not quite. Jake and his boy are out yet.
And—that’s the t’other. That’s Dirk!”

“Nl‘iut he’s alone. Where’s the boy he tuk
out; ‘

“ By the saints, he’s gone and done the lad a.
harm arter all! If he has, boys, it’s our duty
to call him to quarters.”

Lowering looks came upon the face of the-
watermen as their e3 es watched the HpJI‘OHCh--
ing boat. They were so in dread of Dir "s furi'
ous temper and giant strength that they natur»
ally shrunk from an encounter with him. But
this might be a serious matter that would render
some decided action necessary.

In a few minutes the boat touched the wharf.
and the stalwart rower ﬂung his oars aboard.
and quickly sprung ashore, with the ainter iii
his hand. The ﬁshermen watched im with
threatening glances.

“What have you done with the boy?" asked-
one of them.

“ Left the imperdent little rat to cool his heels.
till mornin‘,” answered Dirk, as he secured the
boat. “The chatty young lap—dog kin use his.
long tongue to skeer oﬂ’ the moskeeters, as are
likely to guv him lively quarters fur the night.”

“Where is he, I say'é’demanded the other
boldly. “Look out for yourself if any harm
comes to him.”

“All right. ducky,” returned Dirk insolently.
“ He’s on Pigniy Island. Guess that’s big enough
to hold a rooster 0’ his size.”

“ Pigmy Island I" was thehasty reply. “ You
can’t mean it! Look at the tide, man! It’s a
foot above its level a’ready, and the island‘s:
under water by now It’ll raise a foot yet,
and sweep the boy oﬂ’ into the seas.” '

“ Not much!” answered Dirk, brutally. “ Do
him good to stand fur an hour or two in a foot;
0’ water. Jist what he wants to wash some 0"
the nonsense outer his fresh young bide.”

“This will not do, Dirk Dorganl” returned
one of the most: resolute of the ﬁsh; rmen.
you know when you’re well off you’ll go back:
after the lad. We may stand your airs; but.
we won’t stand murder!”

Dirk looked around the circle of ﬁshermen
With a slow, savage glance. His giant ﬁgure
seemed to grow in size, as he gIOWered upon
them with ﬁerce deﬁance in his eyes.

“You know where he is. Go fur him yerself‘
if ye want him " he surlily replied. “ I pioni—
ised the dirty little ’ristocrat a warmer, and he‘s
got it. Let him drawn. He kicked up tle
wrong cow when he tried city slack on Dirk
Dorgan.”

The ﬁshermen gave way before him as he-
walked resolutely forward. They were not.
quite ready for a personal encounter with him.

They resumed their conversation as he dis-
appeared in the distance. It ended in the un—
tying of a boat from the wharf, into which two
of them sprung.

“We’d be aids in the murder if we let the
boy stay there,” _cried one of them. “ Give
way. Joe. It’s tom’ to be a wild night; but it’s
an errand of marcy.”

They bent to their oars, and the boat shot

st 

gwwe~ Wv‘.‘

 
\

gs

ﬁiftly across the rufﬂed waters, toward where
the surf broke savagely over the bar.

It was nearly two hours afterward when the
boat reached the locality of the lonely island, on
which Will had been left to spend the night.

The darkness had long since descended, and"

lay heavily on sea and shore, blending them to-
gether into one broad, even blackness. The
wind came by in ﬁerce, ﬁtful uffs. Driving
clouds ﬂed in a wild race over t e sky, now for
a few minutes permitting the moon to shed its
light on the troubled waters, now shrouding it
in Eg ptian darkness.

“ Vtyhere in the blazes is the island, Joe?” de-
manded One of the watermen, as he rested for a
moment on his oars, and peered deeply into the

loom.

“ It ought to be close at hand,” answered Joe.
“That last glint of the moon showed us the
swell of the inlet where the island lays like a
baby in its cradle. I wish yonder tarnation
cloud ’d drift off, and give us another glimpse.”

“Bet high it’s drowned out,” returned his
companion. “’Cause we must lie close on.
Gi’n her a Set this way. If I ain’t fooled my-
self— Hello! what’s that?”

This exclamation was called forth by a
sudden check to their Speed, that nearly ﬂung
both rowers backward off their seats. They
looked hastily around, but nothing was visible.
Joe plunged his hand into the water and
plucked up a handful of grass.

“Jist so,” he declared. “Thought I weren‘t
mistaken. We’re grounded on the island. It‘s
under water, sure enough. But where in the
blue blazes is the boy? Can you see a hair 0’ his
young’ hide?”

“ ary hair. Shoot that lazy moon! \Vhy
don’t it bust out f”

He put his hands to his lips, and broke out
into a stentorian hail.

“Ahoy, lad! Ahoy! Whar be ye? Yell, if
you’re in hearin’.”

His cry rung far over the waters, and was
swept ashore by the winds, but no answer
came. All sunk into silence again, except for
the unceasing whistle of the wind and the swash
of the water against their boat.

They waited for a moment, with gathering
awe. Then Joe sprung hastily from the boat
to the submerged surface of the island. The
water came half-way to his knees, as he stood
upri ht. He walked out in different directions,
but ound the water to constantly deepen. He
looked at his com anion with staring eyes.

“ It’s all up wit the oor lad,” he muttered
in awe-struck tones. “ his is the highest s t
on the island. He’s gone! Murdered! ou
can’t call it by no sweeter name.”

“ But to think on it! Not a foot 0’ water. and
no breakers! What’s took the boy over? You’d
thought a baby’d ’a’ stood out the tide.”

“ But ther’s no backbone in these city chick-
ens. The water‘s cold, too. Maybe the delicate
lad ot chilled through and gi’n up the ﬁght.”

“ ought be tuk off by a boat?”

“Might poor chance. Every boat was in
but Jake umps‘s when we set out. S‘pose he is
in afore now.”

As he spoke the moon suddenly broke through
a rift in the clouds. and poured its clear beams
down upon the rufﬂed waters.

Nothin was Visible but an angry stretch of
foam. 1 0 trace remained in land or sea of the
abandoned boy. The eyes of the ﬁshermen met
in a uestioning glance.

“ hat’s your verdick, Joe?”

“ Bloody murder’s my verdict.

ourn?”

“Manslau hter, Joe. ’Tain’t murder where
’tain’t inten ed. 1 kn0w enough law fur that.
But Dirk Dorgan is got to answer fur this.”

“I calkerlate he has,” answered Joe, with
glodmy determination. “ Bend to yer oars
again. We’ve done our duty. It’s the law
that’s to do the balance.”

An hour and more afterward the grou of
watermen, who yet st00d on the wharf loo ing
out into the gloom that shrouded the waters,
heard the swash of cars, and soon saw two dim
ﬁgures emerge from the shadowy night.

“ Ahoy, there! Is that you, Joe and Jesse?"

“It’s not Joe and Jesse; but it’s Jake and
Ton ,” came the answer from the darkness, as
the at shot up tothe wharf.

“Jake What has kept you? Do you bring

ne ! Hava you seen anything of the boy
hat Dirk took out?”

“The b0 2'” demanded Jake, in a tone of
alarm. “ hat’s wrong? Has anything bad

What‘s

come to the boy ?”

“ Yes. Dirk_sot him ashore on Pigmy Island.
It’s swept by the seas long afore now, and we’re
dup‘rat

afeared there’s mischief afoot.”

 
Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective.

“ The deuce! And on a night like this! I’ve
been belated by some prime ﬁshin’ and passed
there arter dark. Dirk Dorganl This is clean
ag’in’ reason! Has some 0’ the boys gone out
to ’vestigate 9”

“ Yes.”

One hope had died in Jake’s answer. Nothing
remained but to wait for the return of the two
messengers.

Another half-hour passed slowly by. Then
the sound of oars was again borne in by the
wind. A momentary moon-gleam broke out
from the cloud—drift and fell upon the approach-
ing boat. Only two ﬁgures appeared, rowing
silently onward.

No hail met them. The waiting ﬁshermen
shrunk from losing the last remnants of hope.
The boat touched the wharf, and its tenants
sprung out, without a word.

Only then did the oldest member of the party
break the silence.

“What news?” he asked. “ Is it good or
bad?"

“Bad,” answered Joe, gloomily. “The isl-
and is drowned, and the boy, too, I reckon.
There’s not a lock of his hair le t to tell that he
was ever there."

A momentary bush, and then a cry of anger
broke from one of the listeners.

“ By all that’s good. then, Dirk Dorgan‘s got
to answer for this murder! He’s been bulldog
o’ the town fur many a year. lads, but he‘s
come to the end of his rope. He must be ar-
rested, instanter.”

“ Maybe he’s foolin’ us.” answered another.
“llil’pughten’t have left the boy there arter
a .

“ Where is he, then? That’s the question.
VVe‘ve got to hold llirk till the mystery‘s settled.
If the boy turns up, well and goo If he’s
gone under, Dirk’s confessed his mum .”

“Tell you what, boys,” broke in the cautious
patriarch of the village. “ ’Tain't best to move
too hasty. It’s my advice that we put a watch
’round Dirk’s house for the night! To-morrow,
if the boy don‘t come to light, we can get word
over to the magistrate in the new town, and
fotch him here with a warrant. That looks to
me the judgmatical thing.”

“ There‘s sound sense in that," answered sev-
eral of the others. “Two or three of us will
be watch enough to see that he don’t slide afore
davlight. The rest can take their snooze.”

This reasonable plan was decided upon. and
the guard appointed to keep watch on Dirk’s
cottage.

As they came up in front of it the sturdy
rufﬂan opened his door and stepped out, in the
rays of the lamplight from inside the cottage.

He glared for a moment angrily at the group
of men. while a look came over his face as if he
had divined their purpose at a glance. He ad-
vanced a step, apparently with the intention of
accosting them. But he seemed to change his
mind before speaking, and retired again to his
cottage, shutting the door angrily behind him.

:‘ The bulldog has drawn back into his kennel,”
said one of the guards. “There we must keep
him. Take your stations all, and keep open
eyes. It’s clear he’s took the hint.”

CHAPTER VII.
THE BIRD OUT or THE CAGE.

THE night passed on in gloom and shadow.
Still the wind howled, and the waves broke in a
roar of thunder on the beach. OVer in the new
town lights were visible till late in the night.
The ﬁerce surf had carried away the strong
board walk that fronted the town, lifting it like
a feather, and (lashing it back as if in disdain,
rent into fra ments. Many of the bath—houses,
too, had sun into the waves, and their splin-
tered relics Were tossed in shattered heaps on
the shore, lifting and grinding with every fresh
wave.

The excitement which this occasioned hardlly
extended beyond the river to the old town. t
was built too high for danger, the boats had
been secured early in the evening, and the tide
was now falling. There was no need to keep
vigil, except around the cottage of Dirk
Dorgan, where the guard still kept up its
vi ilant watch.

hortly after midnight this guard was re-
lieved by three others, who volunteered to
continue the watch until daybreak.

“What’s the report?" asked Jake Dumps,
who was one of this new patrol. “Has he
been astir?"

“A bit; ’arly in the night. But latterly he’s
been as quiet as a mouse in a cheese. eep
wide awake. He's a cunnin‘ varmint.”

“ Ay, ayl Good-night.”

The remaining hours of the night moved

 
7

silently on. The gloom continued deep and
heavy. The soughing wind broke through the
ﬁr branches. From afar came the heavy roar
of the sea. Finally a drizzling rain dripped
down, forcing the vigilant guard to retire
under the shelter of neighboring trees. But
they remained stationed at three points so as to
command the whole circumference of the
cottage. It seemed as if a cat could not have
cre t past unseen. Yet nothing appeared.
Dir seemed to be passing the night in quiet
slumber.

The ﬁrst glow of the coming morning shed a
lurid light upon the eastern clouds. The tide
was again rising, but it promised to be not
nearly so hi h as on the preceding evening.
Long before aybreak a boat, manned by two
oarsmen, had set out from the town, and will
now far up the inlet. It had been decided to
take a daylight view of the situation before
proceeding to extremities. Dirk might have
lied. The boy may have been left on the main
island, where he would be safe. It was best to
be sure on this point ere going too far.

The sun was about two hours high when this
party of investigation returned. The boy was
no? with them; that it needed no words to
tel .

“ W'hat news?” demanded old Toby, the
patriarch of the town.

“ The lad has vanished. Dirk told the truth.
He was left on Pigmy Island.”

“Are you sure?”

“ We found this
shore.”

He held up a soaked cap, which was quickly
recognized as the one that “'ill had Worn the
day before. The hardy watermen drew their
breaths hard.

“ That settles it,” declared old Toby, solemnly.
“ The lad’s gone to Davy Jones, and Dirk Dor-
gan’s responsible for his death.”

A hush followed. It was a moment of awe
and excitement. Murder had been done, not
with deliberate intention, but in fact. A serious
duty lay upon the inhabitants of the town. The
pause of indecision ended by Toby leaping into
the boat, and seizing the oars.

“We must stick to the law,” he said. “You
two come with me. We will crOSS to the new
town, and lay our charge before the squire.
This thing must be done by regular warrant,
sarved by a constable.”

The ﬁshermen, who shrunk from a personal
encounter with their powerful and fearless
neighbor, willingly accepted this solution of the
difﬁculty, and waited with impatience during
the hour of old Toby’s absence. At the end of
that time he returned, accompanied by the con-
stable. Several other boats, containing inhabi-
tants of the new town, came with him. The
news of the crime had spread rapidly from the
magistrate‘s ofﬁce, and created a considerable
excitement. A throng of people followed the
constable in his movement toward Dirk's cot-
tage.

“ How lays the land?” asked this ofﬁcial. “ Is
be about? Has he shewn any signs of escap-
in ?‘

“He has not moved a ﬁnger. night nor morn-
ing,” answered one of the ﬁshermen. “His
house was watched all night by keen eyes.
Since morning it has kept shut close, and not a
whisper has come from it. Dirk smells what’s
in the wind. and is laying sullen. But you
must look out. That ind, when they do break
out. are like mad bulls.”

“I fancy I’ll tame him,” answered the con-
stable, with a quiet smile. “ Stand back, cen-
tlemen. It is pessible it may come to a matter
of bullets, and a crowd is an awkward back-
ground for pistol practice.”

This cool advice caused a sudden halt in the
throng of followers. They had no fancy for
acting as targets. The guard. who still stood
around the house, advanced to meet the cons
stable, as he approached the door.

“We hardly know what to make of it.” said
the foremost of them. “For six hours there
has not been a stir inside. He’s there, as close
as abee in a blossom. A ﬂy could not have
passed our guard. But this silence is strange.
Can the man have made an end of himself?”

“Not be. He isn’t that sort.”

The ofﬁcer knocked vigorously upon the
door.

“ Dirk!” he cried, in a decided tone. “ Come
out. ” You’re wanted. Skulking won’t servo

cu.

y No answer came from within. A deathlike
silence continued.

“ This is strange,” muttered the ofﬁcer. as he
laid his hand on the knob of the door. and gave
it a quick turn. To his surprise the door opened

lodged on the island

 
a

‘ door.

8 Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective.

 
at a touch. It was not locked as he had fully
expected to ﬁnd it.

be main room of the cottage lay open before
his eyes. It was empty.

The constable turned and spoke a few words
to the men behind him. Some of them moved
to the rear door of the building. Others fol-
lowed him into the house.

It contained but four rooms, two above and
two below. There were no cellars. It took
scarcely a minute to investigate these rooms,
though it needed to be done With some caution,
in consideration of the sort of man with whom
th?’ had to deal.

et caution proved unnecessary. The rooms
were empty. Dirk had disappeared.

It was an utterl unexpected result of the
search. What had become of him? The guard,
who pressed eagerly forward, declared pesitive-
ly that he had not left the building under their
eyes. He was not a bird to ﬂy, nor a mole to
excavate. How bad he escaped?

They looked blankly at one arm her, in dis-
may and astonishment. The crowd outside had

ushed into the house at this astounding news.

he search as yet had not been thorough. There
were closets, beds, and other places to be ex—
amined. But a few minutes sufﬁced to investi-
gate every nook of the house. The result was
the same. Dirk had vanished.

The crowd pushed out again, to talk over this
unexplained riddle, while the constable began a
more careful investigation, in hopes of ﬁnding
some clew to the mystery.

Almost every article in the house was closely
examined. Some few discoveries resulted. Dirk
had formerly kept a housekeeper, but for the
last year or two had lived alone doing his own
cooking, and surrounded by avory sparse array
of furniture.

Yet some things were missing. The clothes
he wore in his fishing excursions had been left
behind. and his best suit taken. Certain light
articles which he was known to possess had also
vanished. He had evidently made his escape
in some mysterious manner, and taken such of
Isis possessions as he particularly valued with

im.

“ You may think ’you have done your best,”
said the constable sarcastically to the watch-
men, "but it is plain he has been too smart for
you. The business is in my hands now. He is
a fugitive murderer. I will have him, if I have
to search the whole State from end to end.”

In fact, more events had occurred during the
preceding night than the cordon of watchmen
fancied. As we have no desire to keep the
reader in the same mystery as troubled the
townsmen, we must go back a few hours into
the darkness, and trace the cause of Dlrk’s dis-
appearance.

here is an old fable which relates that a lion
which had been taken in a net, was released by
the teeth of a gnawing mouse. It was the same
with Dirk; a mouse had freed the lion.

Silent as Dirk had continued during the early
portion of the night, he had not been asleep; in
fact, the ﬁerce ruﬂian was for once in his life
frightened at the Consequences of his brutality.

The one thing he feared was the law, and he
had always cunningly kept clear of its fangs.
But now, through a bit of willful spite, he had
fallen into its meshes, and dreaded the most se-
rious consequences of his misdeed. ,

He had managed to overhear all that had pass-
ed among the fishermen, and knew well that he
was liable to a charge of manslaughter, and to
a long term of imprisonment.

That the boy had been swept away by the
waves he did not doubt, and already the pallid
countenance of a drowned form rose frightful-
ly before his awakened imagination.

Conscience carries a keen whip, and the most
hardened nature is not proof against its stings.
He would have given all he possessed to be able
to live over again the past few hours.

It was two o’clock in the morning. The sec-
cond watch had long been set. Silent as Dirk
kept, he knew all that was going on Without.
He now sat near the rear door of his cottage,
his chin on his hand, half inclined to make a
rush for freedom, yet afraid that any haste
to escape would act as new evidence against

1m.

Suddenly he started as if he had been stung.
A light, tapping sound had come upon the door.
He sprung to his feet in mingled surprise and
an rstition.

t was repeated—a distinct but faint rap!

Dirk stood irresolute, his eyes ﬁxed on the
His usual prompt decision failed him for
once in his life.

The latch was lifted. The door. which was
unlocked, Opened. A diminutive form slipped in,

 
and closed the door behind him. He stood in the
light of the lowered lamp, a short, boyish ﬁg-
ure, facing the astonished ruﬂian.

“ Who the blazes are you? And what are
you arter?" queried Dirk. in a low, hollow
tone.

“Guess you oughter know me,” re lied the

boy boldly. “ I’m Tony Thorne. ’m Jake
Dumps’s nevey. I owe you one, and I‘ve come
to pay you.”

“ Owe me one?”

“ You bet I do! You saved me from a duck
in’ this afternoon. Mebbe you’ve forgot it, but
I hain’t. You’re in a awful scrape, Dirk, and

I’ve come to dig you out.”

Dirk looked at him for a minute with wild
eyes. He then eagerly extended his hand, and
grasged Tony’s shoulder.

" ome in here out 0’ earshot,” he demanded.
“ Blast me if I don’t like yer! Come here, and
let’s hear what’s in the wind.”

Tony followed him to an upstairs room, where
they sat in the gloom of the night.

“ Now, midget, peg in. I’m listenin’l”

“It’s just this, Dirk,” began Thorny Tony, in
a decisive tone. "That boy’s drownded, and it’s
odd if they don’t stretch our neck for it.
They’ve got it in their woo, now I tell you.
You’ve only got two friends left in the town.”

“ Who’s them?” queried Dirk.

“ That’s me, and uncle Jake. I’d been
drownded mebbe this afternoon only you
snatched me out. We ain’t forgot that. What’s
more, I hate the: little aristocrat like p‘izen.
Me and him had 1 squabble only t’otlwr day;
and I think you served him jist right. Now I‘m
here to git you out of this scrape.’

“It can t be did,” rejoined Dirk. “ The
guard’s on. If I moved a foot they’d have the
whole town, like barkin’ curs, at my heels.”

“ Not much.” answered Tony. “That ain’t
the way I do bizness. J ist listen to me. Uncle
Jake’s on the guard. He’s stationed right back
0’ this door. You kin slip out and away. He
won’t see you. Take my word for that.’

Dirk glared at the conﬁdent boy in hope and
surprise.

“ Why, ye’re jist a little hossl” he declared.
“But, what’s the use? I’ve got no hidin’-place.
Egey’ll pick me up like a stray log in the bar-

r.
“ Trust me for that,” replied Tony, in a tone
of assurance. “ Uncle Jake and me ain’t
slouches, to half do our jobs. I’ll take you to a
spot where you. won’t be found soon, I promise
you. But I tell you what it is, if on have
anything here you value you’d best ta e it with

on. It maybe a long day afore you come

ack. And this place ’11 be s’arched severe,
now you bet. Hunt out your valybles. I’ll
slip'out and wait for you jist back of Joe Bliz-
zard’s house. You needn’t be afeared to go past
uncle Jake. He’ll have his eyes tight shet.”

The scared rufﬁan caught Tony by the shoul-
der, and looked searchingly in his face. The
boy bore the scrutiny without ﬂ.nching. Dirk
released him with an air of satisfaction.

“ I’ll do it,” he said. “You’re true grit.
Wait outside. I’ll join you in ten minutes.’

Tony obeyed without a word. He had his ob-
ject in leaving Dirk awhile alone. The ten min—
utes passed. The solirary ruﬂian prowled about
his house, going through some strange evolu-
tions, as he made up a small bundle of the ob-
jects he wished to take with him.

“ VVon’t do to leave it behind,” he muttered.
“They mought ﬁnd the package and hand it
over to Wilson. I’ll have my revenge out on
that man if I spend my whole life in it. Won’t
never let up the squeeze I’ve got on him.”

The darkness was intense as he slipped out into
the air. He could vaguely see the form of the
watchman. He walked silently on. It roved
as Tony had said. The guard stood motlonles
while he slipped quietly past. In a few moments
more he was at the appointed rendezvous.

“ Jolly l” remarked Tony, suddenly making
his ap earance. “Come on. Part of the job’s
done, ut there’s more afore us.”

CHAPTER VIII.
THORNY 'roNY GETS IN HIS WORK.

“ I TELL you they’ve got it ag’in’ you blue.
Jist you put that down in yer ’count-hook.”

The speaker was Tony Theme. He was driv-
ing along in a one-horse, tumble-down old gig,
through the shadowy reaches of the night, with
Dirk Dorgan for a companion.

“ If you’d ’a’ heered ’em like I did, spoutin’ out
spite, it’d made yer blood crawl,” continued
Tony, in a sepulchral voice. “ They ain’t in
love with you now, nary time: and they’ve got
the drop on you, dead sure. Why, it wouldn’t

 
took much fur ’em to hung you up, without
judge or jury.”

Dirk’s veins tingled at this information. Bold
and reckless as he was, the thought of hanging
was anything but an agreeable one, and he
knew well that he had made himself bated in
the village by his OVerbearing disposition.

“ Where are you taking me?” he asked, peer-
ing out into the darkness. “ If you run me
into any trap, you young rascal, I’ll cure you of
all tricks for the rest 0’ yer nat’ral life.”

“ Look’s like it, don t it?" rejoined Tony,
scornfully. “When I’ve jist pulled yer neck
outer the hangman’s noose! ’Tain’t much use
workin’ for a feller like you, that ain’t got no
more conscience nor a bread-puddin’ has dump-
lin’s.”

“ But, where are you takin’ me? That’s what
I want to know.”

“ And it’s what you won’t know. It’s a secret
hidin’-p1aCe, as uncle Jake knows, and you’ve
got to go in there unbeknownst. I ain’t bor-
ried this high-up hose and stylish kerridge fur
fun, now you bet.”

“A secret place of Jake Dumps! Lord, you
don’t tell me that? I allers thought that sly
old coon had more tricks nor ﬂshin’ and n-
uin’. So the cat‘s comin’ out the bag, hey?’

He laughed hoarsely, with a forced merri~
ment. He Was evidently trying to throw of!
the weight of his own troubles.

“ J ist you never mind that. Uncle Jake
allers butters his own bread. Don’t ax nobody
to do it fur him. But you‘ve got to blindfold
your eyes afore you go into his den.”

“ What fer?”

“So you won’t know where it is, that’s all.
He don’t trust nobody as mourht blab on him.”

“He’s an old crocodile. Blast me if I’ll do
any sich nonsense!”

” All right. Then you kin drive yerself.
’Tain’t much I keer.”

“ You dirty rapscallionl
there.”

“hike to know how you’re goin’ to make
me.’

Dirk caught the arm of his tantalizing com-
panion in a ﬁerce grip, and bent his lowering
eyes with a threatening look upon his face.

“Maybe on don’t know what it is to play
with a man ike me!” he hissed.

“ Maybe not," anSWered Tony. without ﬂinch-
ing. “ But I know this much. You kin squeeze
a pig’s tail till you make him holler; but he
won’t go where you want for all your squeezin’.
Go ahead, Dirk,’ he dropped the reins. “ You’re

oin’ ,to make me drive, are you? Let’s see you

0 it.

Dirk grasped his other arm, and twisted him
around until they sat face to face. The rufﬁan
bent forward until his face almost touched that
of the unﬂinching boy. The words came hiss-
inglv from his lips.

“ Blast yer young hide, I‘ll kill you as I did
the other! Do as I bid, or I’ll have more than
one to hang for.”

“ And hang for it you will,” answered Tony,
boldly. “There’s a man in town knows where
I am. Let me be missin’, and salt won’t save
you.”

Dirk was fairly nonplused. Despite his
threats he did not dare do his companion an
injury, and Tony well knew that. The ﬁerce
looks and tones of the rufﬁan were thrown
away on the shrewd boy.

“I’ll be shot if I’ll go into any hole likea
mufﬂed ratl” he declared, violently, but with a
besitating tone.

“Dig out, then, if you’ve got a better way,”
answered Tony. “If you go with me you’ve
got to go mv way. Jist h’ist that into yer pipe
and smoke it.”

The bafﬂed villain dropped the unyieldin
boy with a gesture of des ite. He could har -
ly check himself from dea ing him a ﬁerce blow
with his iron fist. But the moment wasa peril-
It would not do to lose his only

You shall drive me

ous one.
friend.

“ Is it far to go?” he asked, more mildly.

“ That’s my hizness,” answered Tony. “The
night’s dark enough to hide anything, but I
won’t trust it. You’Ve got to have your eyes
blinded. That’s uncle Jake’s orders.”

Dirk angrily jerked a huge red handkerchief
from his ket, and bound it over his eyes.

“ Hope that’ll suit yer idees. Drive on now,
you nagging little whelp.”

Tony inspected the bandage. Satisﬁed that
it was secnre, he took up the reins, and set the
horse again into a trot. How he had, in a few
days’ residence, learned enough of the country
to go on a long drlye of a dark ni ht did not
appear. But, a Wide-awake boy, ike Thorny
Tony, is quick at taking things in.

aw .‘-v‘"~

  
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Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective. 9

 
He had already driven for an hour. He con-
tinued his course for nearly a half-hour more.
At the end of that time he stopped the horse,
and took Dirk by the arm.

“ Come now,” he whispered. “Be very keer-
ful ’bout noise. We are not far away from
ears, and there’s a bit 0’ ground to tramp over.”

Ten minutes of cautious progress succeeded.
Then adoor was carefully opened and closed
behind them. Their feet were no longer upon
the earth. The ﬁrm resistance of a wooden
ﬂoor was beneath them.

Tony continued to lead his blinded compan-
ion. A second door was opened, which seemed
to admit them to another room. It closed
again, and the voice of Tony came, in muffled
accents, as if from a distance:

“ You kin take off the handkerch’er now.
But, mind me. Don’t poke yer nose outer
these doors, if you don‘t want to git into
trouble. You’ve got to keep as close as a musk-
rat in a mud—bank.”

Dirk hastily jerked off the bandage from his
eyes, and looked inquiringly around him. He
was alone. Tony had disappeared.

A turned-down lamp faintly illuminated the
apartment in which he stood. It was a small
room, about twelve feet s uare, with a bare
ﬂoor and sparse furniture. here was nothing
about it to indicate anything secret or mysteri-
ous. Such an apartment might have belonged
to any country house, or ﬁsherman’s cottage.

Dirk continued to look about him, with a gaze
of sharp investigation. The room was strange
to him, yet not wholly so. There hung over it
a vague sense of familiarity, which he could not
penetrate.

He tried the door to discover if he was a
risoner. No, it opened easily to his hand. A
arger room was dimly visible. But Tony had

vanished. No trace of his diminutive form was
to be seen.

Dirk seated himself and dropped into a deep
train of reflection. ’He had been hurried on-
ward so rapidly for the last hour or two as to
give him no time to think. This was the ﬁrst
moment in which he had a chance for deliberate
thought. He began to measure his situation.

The man was of a suspicious temperament,
and there had been much in the late events to
arouse his suspicions. thy had Jake Dumps so
suddenly become his friend? He had shown no
disposition of the kind before, and Tony’s ex—
planation was not a very satisfactory one. And
what sort of a secret apartment was this? He
had been led to exp =ct some cunningly con-
tri ved hiding-place; yet here he was in the
room of an ordinary house.

He rose hastily, and strode through the front
room to the door, determined to settle this mys-
tery at once. He laid his hand on the door. It
failed to yield. He was locked in, after all!

Dirk looked at the door, and drew back his
ponderous ﬁst, with a half-formed intention to
dash it through the stout panels. But he hesi-
tated. T0ny’s warning was not without its
effect upon him. He might be running into
some unknown danger.

It was certain that he had been rescued from
a perilous situation. thy should he mistrust
those who had rescued him at their own risk!
He could be no worse off no.v than before.

Dirk reseated himself and resumed his re-
ﬂections, his dark face working as the thoughts
passed successively through his mind.

Suddenly he sprung up, and brought down
his ﬁst with a heavy blow on the table before
him, while a look of malignant meaning came
into his eyes.

“I’ve got it, by Davy Jones!” he exclaimed.
“A dashed fool I was not to see through it at
once! If Mark Wilson ain’t at the bottom of
this you kin salt me down fur a herrin !
He‘s tried a hundred different tricks to sai
vate me, and this is the last. Hang me if I
didn’t think it thunderin’ queer that Jake Dumps
struck a nevey so sudden! See it all now. It’s
one o’ Wilson’s games. Aha! thought he’d catch
the old coon, did he? Got me to bring the pa~

ers with me, so as they could go through me!

last me if that ain’t keen! Next thing they’ll
fetch the ofﬁcers down on me, and s’arch me,
and snatch the dockyments. I see through it
now, clear to the bOttom. But it wdn’t work,
Mark Wilson. I’ve sworn to haVe my revenge to
the bitter end, and have it I will, if I have to
burn the a ers. You ain’t goin‘ to git the whip
hand of o e irk Dorgan so easy.”

He sat thinking for some minutes still. Then
be seized the lamp, and started on a tour of in-
8 action of the bones. .He wanted to see how
t a land lay are he dec1ded on any plan of ac-

tion.
. A pair of stairs led to an upper story. consist-

 
ing of two rooms, which he quickly examined.
They were plainly furnished. and had about
them that aspect of vague familiarity which he
had already observed.

“ I’ve been here afore,” he declared to himself,
“though I can’t jist nail the spot. What’s come
0’ that boy! Is he off to fetch the bloodhounds
on my track? By old Neptune, I’ll cheat Mark
Wilson! I wanted tokeep these papers fur the
boy’s good arter me and Wilson was both gone
to pot, but I can’t hide ’em here, and there’s
nothin’ fur it but a quick blaze and a pile of
ashes. That ends it. He’ll never squeeze the
truth out 0’ me, arter the papers is gone.”

He removed the chimney of the lamp with a
ﬁrm hand. He then took from the bosom of his
seavshirt a narrow roll of apers, which he ad-
vanced toward the naked ame.

“ So ends the hopes of Mark Wilson’s heir,”
he muttered, “and the secret I have guarded
for twenty ears.”

As he spo 6, his eyes fell upon a spot 11 n the
wall which he had noted before where ung a
framed portrait of a middle-a ed gentleman.

His eyes distended with su den horror as he
again noted the picture. The frame was still
there, but the portrait had disa ared. Or ra-
ther it had been replaced by a i e-size youthful
face, with staring eyes and a countenance as
white as driVen snow. No wonder that Dirk
Dorgan was stricken with horror. 1t was the
face of the drowned boy!

A gasp of wild terror came from the lips of
the startled ruﬁian. He slowly retreated, hold-
ing the lamp in one hand and the papers in the
other, his eyes ﬁxedin speechless aﬂright on the
deathlike apparition.

The eyes and lips of the ﬁgure moved. Hol-
low tones came from the lips.

“Murderer!” ulsed the voice.
victim! Your oom is sealed!”

With a terrible yell Dirk let fall the lamp and
the roll, and dashed down the stairs almost at a
single spring. Like a wild bull be rushed at the
house door, which ﬂew open before his power-
ful impetus.

Blind with terror he sprung out into the
night. But in an instant be halted and looked
around him with a new sensation. What were
these houses, that stream? One glance was
enough. He was still in the town of Micmac!
He had been completely fooled! Dirk’s terror
vanished before this astounding revelation. The
whole thing was a trick. This apparition was 8.

art of the trick. He turned and dashed back
nto the house and u the stairs as wildly as he
had dashed down. }His eyes quickly glanced
around. There hung the portrait, as it had at
ﬁrst hung. There lay the lamp, unbroken and
still burning. But the valuable roll of papers?
In vain he sought! It had utterly disappeared!

“It is I, your

 
CHAPTER IX.
PICKING UP DROPPED THREADS.
WE must stop for awhile and look back. One

can not go on forever in life without an occasiou- ;
? for the duckin‘,” he cried.

al tum-back in his path in Search of something
which he has passed unseen.

its context, which we must go back and pick up.

In fact the face in the picture, which had for
the moment so startled the rugged soul of Dirk
Dorgan, was no apparition, but the Countenance
of a living being. Will Worth had not become
the prey of the sea. as every one imagined. and
the method of his escape from his perilous situ-
ation needs to be made clear.

There is another matter also which re uires
explanation, the sudden gratitude which ony
had developed for Dirk Dorgan. All these arose
from events of the early portion of that night
which had made such a sensation in the village
of Micmac.

It will be remembered that when Dirk Dorgan
had set out on his ﬁshing excursion with I’Vill,
they had been follo'wed at a distance by the boat
containing Jake Dumps and his ready-made
nephew. The latter had lagged behind, out of
sight of the forward boat, but yet at no great
distance in the rear.

Jake and TOny threw in their lines at a ﬁshing
ground a few miles up the inlet, where they con-
tinued to ﬁsh for some time with c0nsiderable
success. The afternoon waned while they were
thus occupied, the sun had sunk low in the west,
and they ﬂung in for a ﬁnal throw, Tony re-
marking:

“ Arter this pull we’d best take a tug at the
cars further up channel. T’other boat’s makin’
along spell, and I’m cur’us to see if ther’ ain’t
some cleviltry afoot.”

“ Don’t b’lieve there is,” answered Jake, with

 
It is so in our pre~ .
sen“ story. There are some dropped threads in '

 
“Dirk knows he’s
If he

a shake of "the head.
watched, and he won’t try no capers.
hurt the boy he’d get in trouble.”

“ Little he keers when he’s got his mad up,”
anewered Tony. “Bet you I wouldn’t trust
none 0’ my eggs in his pocket. But Lawseel
there he comes now; and no Will with him I”

It was as he said. Dirk’s boat had just turned
a corner of the channel ahead, and was coming
swiftly onward, impelled by his vigorous
strokes.

Jake and Tony had now got to their oars and
rowed out into the channel, in the track of the
comin boat.

“ Hi lo, Dirk!” cried the old ﬁsherman.
“Wh’at’s come 0’ the lad as you tuk out with

on?

“Left the bloody oung bull-hound to cool
his heels on the island, ’answered Dirk, brutally.
“ He’s so rascally smart that a night’s outdoor
coolin’ mought do him some good.”

“ Come come, that won’t do !” exclaimed
Jake. “ e’ll be swallowed alive by ’skeeters.
Best 0 back and take him off.”

“ uch I will.”

“ Then I’m han ed if I don’t!”

“ You will, e ?” cried Dirk, an rily.
“ You’ll spile my on, Jake Dumps? aybe
you‘ve forgot the kind 0’ chap I am. Now. jist
you snatch your oars and row down channel
ahead 0’ me, or shoot me if I leave a whole bone
in er dirty hide. Dig out now. I mean it.”

ake, indignant as he was knew his antagonist

too well to dare disregard this threat. Dirk
never multiplied his words. He was 'usl the
man to do what he had promised. be old

ﬁsherman, who was no match for his brawny
opponent, resumed his oars, and with a long
sw p sent the boat s inning down the channel.

This movement ha an unexpected result. It
unluckily happened that just at that moment
Tony had left his Seat at the tiller, and was
walking forward along the gunwale, for some
unexplained purpose. The sudden movement
of the boat gave him a leeward jerk, and are he
could regain his footing he toppled overboard
with a heavy splash.

The boat sped on under the impetus, leaving
him struggling in the water. Tony’s city life
had left his education deﬁcient in one respect.
He did not know how to swim. Thus his situa-
tion was really dangerous. He might sink ere
the boat could be turned back to his rescue.

But Dirk had been resting on his oars not far
in the rear. A hoarse laugh came from his
bearded lips as he saw the plunge of the unlucky
boy. But he dropped his oars into the water,
gave the boat a send forward, and in an instant
had Tony by the collar.

A quick jerk by his strong arm, and the
drenched lad was lifted as if he had been a
feather.

“There! Stand there and drip,” cried Dirk,
roughly. “ And try and git yer sea legs atore
ye g0 boatin’ ag’in. ’

Tony was dripping and shaking himself when
J ike's boat came gliding?) alongside of Dirk’s.

“ Jump aboard, boy. ou’re none the worse
“ Much obleeged,
Dirk. Likely ye’ve saved the lad from drown-
ln‘.’

“ Poh! He’s not the ﬁrst pu py I’ve snatched
out of the water,” answered Birk, in an insult-
ing tone. “Push on now, Jake.
to leave vou behind me.”

The ﬁsherman obeyed, while Tony sat shiver-

ing in the cool night air. He had at ﬁrst felt a
feeling of gratitude fewerd Dirk, but this last
speech had caused a revulsion in his mind. It
was not so pleasant to be compared to a drown-
ing Xuppy. '
“ ll right, Dirk Dorgan,” he muttered to
himself. “ You won’t have me for a friend,
then. I’m your dr0wned uppy, am I? Look
out the puppy don’t bite. i’m old enough any-
how to have my eyes open, if I am a puppy.”

The two boats moved on over the roughened
surface of the water, Jake in advance, until a.
mile or two had been passed. This brought
them to the mouth of the inlet. The sun was
now low. and the gloom of the coming night
was descending on the waters. It was the night
of the great storm, the wind was blowing in
ﬁerce gusts. and hetwt-en the entrance to the
inlet and the mouth of the river was a danger-
ous reach, where the surf broke at an alarming
hi ht.

It was now “save who can.” The two rowers
paid no further attention to one another, but
each worked for his own salvation in the inner
edge of the boiling surf. Dirk’s vigorous sweep
soon drove his boat in advanCe of Jake’s, which
labored in the foaming sea-edge behind. The
stalwart ruﬁian turned into the mouth of the

I ain’t goin’

  
( I . v 1" L,” '1. " i"«."‘f’, ’I'llit‘i'irt’r'

10 Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective.

 
river, while his followers were yet little beyond
the inlet.

“ Good! He’s out o’ sight now!" cried Tony.
" Turn back. \Ve must git that boy off.
Wouldn’t leave him out sich a night as this fur
a ship-load 0’ gold.”

“It can’t be did,” returned Jake, with a
doubtful shake of the head. “ ’Tain’t in the
oars. It’s an ugly night, and we’ve got our own
lives to save.”

“ Mighty nice!” rejoined Tony. “But if you
don’t take him off, hang the cent will you evr r
see of Mark Wilson’s money. I tell you he sets
store by the boy, and he’s got cash enough to
stuff a cow with greenbacks.’

This inducement made a sudden change in old
Jake’s intentions. In a moment he swirled the
bolat around, and rowed for the mouth of the
in ct.

“Steer keerful,” he warned. “ Keep her
rindin’ the sand. If we git out into the breaker-
ine it’ll beat down the boat like it would a

feather.”

Tony, who had learned the art of steering,
skillfully obeyed; and they were soon within the
smoother waters of the inlet.

They rowed back in silence. The night was
rapidly approaching, and by the time they had
gained their late ﬁshing-grounds, a thick duski-
ness had replaced the daylight.

“Keep a sharp lookout on the island now,”
warned Jake. “The moon’s up, and there’s a
shadder 0’ daylight yit. If he’s a-standin’ there,
you kin see him. Let out a yell now and then.

he lad mought be crouchin’ in the weeds.”

The boat was close along the edge of the main
island, where it continued to advance, while
Tony kept his keen young eyes sweeping the
low—lying land. Occasionally, also, he gave a
shrill cry, which rung high above the roar of
the wind. ‘

They moved on in this way for some two or
three miles. It had now become quite dark, but
the moon had risen into a bank of broken clouds,
which permitted an occasional glimpse of the
island surface. Tony continued his shrill calls
at frequent intervals.

Suddenly there came a faint answer; but to
their surprise, it did not come from the direction
of the island. It seemed to come from over the
open water to the left. There was a momentar
lull in the wind, and Tony repeated his cal .
The reply came again, louder and clearer than
before.

“ It’s no gull, at any rate!” he cried, twisting
round.

“ Do you see anything?” asked Jake.

“ Nothin’ but a dim shadow. It’s pitch dark
thereaway.”

“Let me git my e es on it.”

The experienced o d fisherman bent low, and
looked across the surface of the rufﬂed water.
He s oke after a minute’s observation.

“ here’s summat there, but I can’t make it
out clear. It’s like a ﬂoatin’ buoy. Keep yer
eyes open while I set the boat over."

The vague upright line which they hal ob—
served grew clearer as the boat moved toward
it. It seemed to move. Tony called again.

“ Ahoy!"

“ Hereaway,” came a distinct answer.

“ Is it a man, a boy, or a hobgoblin?”

“A boy. And pretty near a ghost.”

The boat was now close at hand.

“ Is it you, Will Worth?”

“ Nobody else. Is that you, Tony Thorne?”

“ You bet.”

“ Then thank Heaven! for the sea would have
swept me off in an hour more.”

The boat suddenly grounded. Jake dropped
his oars and sprung up, with a keen look around

1m.

“ lt’s Pigmy Island, or I’m a sinner!” he ejac-
ulated. “ Al under water, and the boy left
there to drown! Blame my top-knot if I thought
Dirk Dorgan was sich a murderin’ hog! 'I’ll
lay him out for this, if I don’t, shoot me! Come,
poor feller, step aboard. You’ve had a narrer
squeeze fur it. You kin thank Tony here fur
yer life.”

Will had already made his way through the
water, and stepped into the boat with Tony’s
aid. He was shivering with cold, but be warm-
ly grasped the ha nds of both his rescuers, while
tears stood in his eyes.

“If I ever can return this, I will, you can
depend on that,” be gratefully declared. “ An
hour more there I would have chilled through
and dropped into the water. As for Dirk Dor-
gan, I won’t forget him either.”

“ Mighty rough quarters, Will,” remarked
lonv, as he again pressed his hand.

“ The water did one good job, though.”

“ What was that?”

 
“It drowned out the mosquitoes. There were
millions of them I do believe, before the tide
swept over the island.”

The laugh which this speech occasioned, broke
the serious feelings which had ﬁlled their spirits
at first.

Jake, with undiminished vigor, began to row
back, d0wn the channel. As they proceeded,
they fell into an earnest conversation, in
which the proper course to be pursued, was dis-
CiISSed.

“ Hush l” cried Tony, at length. “There are
oars.”

Jake sto ped rowing. They fell into a deep
silence. he roll of oars, which the wind had
brought to their ears, came nearer. The moon
was now overclouded, and they saw only a
faint shadow on the dark waters, as the coming
boat drew near.

Its inmates were loudly talking, and they
passed near enough for every word to be dis-
tinctly heard. The subject of their conversa-
tion wasdeeply interesting to the three listeners.
Tony, in fact, was on the point of replying, but
he was checked by the cautious old man.

“Not a word,” said Jake, in low tones. “ Let
’em go on. The thing’s workin’ neat.”

In a few minutes more the boat was out of
hearing. It was the boat which had been sent
out to Pigmy Island to Will’s rescue. and the
subject of conVersation of its rowers had been
the suspicions of murder entertained against
Dirk Dorgan.

“ Let ’em go,” again remarked Jake. “They’ll
fetch in a bad report, and maybe Dirk’ll be
jerked fur the murder. lVe must keep the boy
shady for a while. Somethin’ neat mougbt
come outen this.”

They resumed their progress, laying a plot
a ainst Dirk Dargan as they did so. The result
0 this plot we have seen. Will was landed in
a solitary spot, and afterward conducted unseen
to Jake’s cottage, where he was concealed in an
unused apartment. To this same cottage Dirk
was, at a later hour, conducted, through the
skillful maneuvers of Tony. who had managed
to completely humbug the shrewd villain.

We have seen the finale. The picture against
the wall was one of old Jake’s fancies. It was
really movable, and fomied the cover to a
small window, leading into the room in which
Will was concealed.

The hidden youth had overheard Dirk’s words
and opened the window for an observation, at
the very instant tht the startled villain looked
up. It is not surprising that the latter was
frightened. Will himself was scared, and
turned so pale that his face really appeared of
deathly hue.

Yet startled as the boy was by the discovery,
his quick wit at once took in the situation, and
he improvised, on the spur of the moment, the
sepulchral words which had thrown Dirk into
such terror.

Nor was Will less active in another direction.
Dirk had hardly disappeared ere he sprung into
the room. seized the valuable roll of papers
from the ﬂoor, and made a busty retreat.

“I wonder who’s got the bull by the horns
now?” he triumphantly cried. “ Left me to be
drowned on an island, did you? I’ve a notion
I’ll be even with you for it. We’ve won our
game, and must make tracks. Mr. Wilson will
give half his fortune for this little bundle of
papers.”

-—_._

CHAPTER X.
A DOUBLE CHASE.

WE have already in a preceding chapter de-
scribed the events of the morning which follow-
ed the stirring night of the storm. Dirk had
disappeared, as we know. He was not to be
found in the village. But Will also had van-
ished, and the inhabitants were more convinced
of the murder than ever.

The constable at once set himself in pursuit
of the fugitive, ﬁrst searching the town and the
houses in its vicinity, and then starting out on
a wider exploration of the surrounding coun—

tr .

It was an opportunity to distinguish himself
such as he had never before possesSed, and he
was bound to make the most of it.

Still another inmate of the village had disap-
peared. as Jake Dumps had discovered on his
return to his habitation. Tony had vanished.
He was not to be found within the boundaries
of Micmac, and the old fellow, who had taken a
great fancy to his new-made nephew, was in a
serious fret at his disappearance.

As it is of immense importance to our story
to know what had become of these vanished

 
persons, we must return to the cover of the
ni ht, and seek to trace their movements.

$Vill Worthy, on his escape from the cottage,
had been forced to slip behind the door as Dirk
furiously returned, and rushed up the stairs
which he had just descended.

Will quickly slipped out into the night, where
he gaVe vent to a low whistle. Instantly feet
were heard approaching, and through the
gloom appeared the diminutive form of Tony.

" Is it you, Will? What’s up? Any luck?”

“The best! I’ve got the documents! But .

we’ve got to slide away from here instanter.
Dirk smells a rat, and will be out on us in a
second more.”

“Got ’em? Jolly boy! Come this way. I’ve
got the game laid out. We’ll salt the old
sucker!"

Will rapidly followed his active assistant. In
a few minutes they reached a spot a short dis-
tance beyond the limits of the villa e. Here
still stood the antiquated vehicle which Tony
had used in Dirk’s escape.

“There you are, Will. Jump in and drive
off like wild. It’s Jake’s team. I’ll make it all
right.”

“ Aren’t you coming with me?”

“ Nary time. I’m goin’ to stay behind, and.
circumnavigate old Dirk. Drive ahead. Don’t
lose a minute.”

“ But where will I go to?”

“ Anywhere, so it’s out 0’ these diggin’s. Make
for a railroad depot some.“ here. Snatch a train,
and di for the cit . Leave the team to take
keer o itself. Wilson’s rich enough topay the
piper. Now shoot, like greased lightnin’.”

Will gathered the reins and shook up the lazy
old creature. who had been contentedly crop-
ping the wayside grass. He soon vanished into
the night, along the country road that opened
before him, but Certainly not with the speed
of greased lightning as Tony had recommended.

The latter returned toward the cottage, with
the hope of in some way covering the retreat of
his confederate. He had scarcely reached it ere
Dirk came plun ing furiously out. Seeing the
boy, he caught im savagely by the arm, with
a low and fierce exclamation.

“ You young son of ascreech-owll” he hissed.
“ So you’re larkin’ round here, are you? I see
through the whole trick now, blast my stupid
brains! If you don’t put me instanter on the
track 0’ that devil’s cub I’ll grind you intoa
plaster, shoot me if Idon’t!”

Dirk, as we have said, was shrewd and quick-
witted. He had been for the time deceived,
and his senses befogged with fear. But the
10ss of his treasured documents had recalled his
wits. They had not gone Without hands, that
he knew. Hands are usually connected with
the face. The face he had seen was not that of a
specter, for specters do not carr oﬂ.’ stray valu-
ables. He saw through the trio at a flash. The
boy was not drowned after all. He had been
rescued, and a trick devised with his aid.

Who had rescued him? Who but Jake Dum s!
At this thought a recollection came to Dir ’s
mind. He now knew why the room had been
familiar to him. He was in Jake’s cottage. And.
the boy Tony? He was in the scheme. Like a
ﬂash the meaning of the rescue, and of his mid-
night ride. came to Dirk’s brain.

“Mark Wilson again,” he said, striking his
forehead in anger at his stupidity. “ It’s a neat
game. I swear! Hang ifl don’t show ’em that
Dirk Dorgan’s no baby to be played with.”

It was in this spirit that he had plunged
again from the house, and caught Tony lurking
in its vicinity. His suspicions conﬁrmed by
this circumstance, he had broken out as. we
haVe detailed.

“What’s bu’sted ?” queried Tony, without a
shadow of fear. “ No use goin’ off half-cocked,
as I kin see. Guess somethin’s get loose on yer
insides, or you wouldn’t be raisin’ sich a ran-
tankerous roar.”

“The boy!” ejaculated Dirk, in short, thick
tones. “ Tell me where he is. instanterl I’ll
not waste many words on you!”

Tony recognized that it was a dangerous mo—
ment. Dirk was in a humor that rendered
triﬂing perilous. Yet Tony was bound not to
sell his confederate, and he sought to shield him
by a little square lying. _

“ Don’t see no use squeezin’ a feller’s life out.”
he complained. “ Let go my collar, and I’ll tell

on.”
y “ Tell now, or—” Dirk raised his ponderous

ﬁst.

“ “5911): 151161;}; the boy ist spot out that “116:6
door. gan ony. “ egaloped past me i e
a colt, and struck ’cross toward the river front.
Come”along, and I’ll show you jest how he
went.

 
V ....1._.._.....1—.._—.r__. _

 
/ .

" :‘ii‘ﬁ‘? .

 
Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective.

11

 
“ That way?” asked Dirk, pointing across the
village, to a spot where a light revealed a small
grou of men.

“ ist so.”

“Very well. Come ahead.”

He started out, dragging Tony by the collar.
The latter held back.

“ Ye’re not goin’ the right way.”

“ Ain’t I)” queried Dirk, grimly, as he strode
on. “The right way, I s’pose, would be to guv
in self up to them men, and be held fast
w ile that young hound digs off? You’re a keen
little coon; but Dirk Dorgan ain’t to be fooled
by a sand-snipe. Come on, now, and don’t
make no noise, or I’ll choke yer weasand. If
that boy slides it’s goin’ to be bad fur your
hide.”

He was hurrying in an opposite direction
from that into which Tony had sought to de—
ceive him. They were quickly outside the vil-
la e.
is few steps more, and Dirk halted. He
twisted the boy around until he faced him.

“ Now where‘s that team ’3” he asked, savagely.
“It was hereabouts you left it. Jist point out
the spot.”

It was unsafe to prevaricate with a man in
Dirk’s present humor.

“ This is the spot,” answered Tony, sullenly.
“ Ye’re standin’ on it now.”

“ Where is the team then?”

“ Can’t answer no conundrums. Strayed off,
I reckon.”

Dirk paid no attention to this answer. He
was listening. The wind had for the moment
lulled, and there came to his quick ears the
faint sound of a rattling carriage wheel.

“Thought so,” he declared. “Ain’t quite a
fool yet. That’s what’s Come 0’ the little rat.
Bet you high I overhaul him. Come ahead.”

He paused and looked around, feeling the
weight in his hand very light. To his surprise
he held only an empty jacket. Tony had taken
advantage of the moment’s inattention to slip
out of his garment, and disappear into the
darkness. A mocking laugh came to Dirk’s

ars.
“Good—by,” cried Tony’s voice from the

shad0ws. “ If you want to nab me, here I am.
Bet I guv on a foot-race.”
“Go to lazes!” exclaimed Dirk in a rage.

“ I know my game.”

He hurried off toward the point from which
had come the sound of wheels.

It was a double trail. While Dirk hurried
after the fugitive in the carriage, Tony followed
on foot in the rear. The wide-awake boy was
bound to keep on the alert. He knew that Will
would not ﬁnd it easy to escape from his keen
and vigorous pursuer. But two are better than
one, and a friend in the rear is often a useful
arrangement. .

The hours of the night went on, and daylight
appeared. Will was not yet overtaken. He
had managed, by the aid of a ﬂexible
switch, to get his old charger into a respectable
speed. With the start he had he had left Dirk
considerably in the rear.

But the road was a straight one, without any
branches, and the pursuer came on conﬁdently.
When daylight broke Dirk was sure of his

ame. There were the fresh prints of wheels
in the road. He continued his pursuit, with
unﬂagging strength. At a long distance in the
rear came on Tony Thorne, just keeping Dirk
within sight when some rising ground gave him
a long outlook. '

Will, famished by his exertions through the
night, stopped shortly after daybreak at a road-
side house, and purchased a fru al breakfast.
He also gave his tired horse a drin , and a nip at
the grass.

This morning rest lasted for half an hour, at
the end of which time he ut his unWilling
steed again into motion. nother half-hour
elapsed, and Dirk came up to Will’s halting-

lace. The signs of a halt were unmistakable.

e in his turn paused in his career, and entered
the cottage. An old man sat in a corner en-
gaged with his morning pipe, and quite ready
to answer Dirk’s questions. .

A few words suﬁiced. The "description which
the old man gave of his preceding visitor brought
agrin of satisfaction to Dirk’s rough face. It
was Will Worth beyond a doubt.

“Did he say where he was goin’ 3” asked Dirk.

“ Why,”drawled the old man behind his pi ,
“ he was cur’us ’bout railroad depots and the li e.
I telled ’im the ni best was at uam, ten miles
furder. Reckon e’s one there.

This was 611011 b. irk’s game lay clear be-
fore him n0w. he fugitive had the start, and
a horse’s legs to cary him, but there were short
cuts across the country which Dirk well knew,

 
and he started oil? with conﬁdence of nailing his
game in Squam.

“And I’ll have them papers out 0’ him then, if
I have to squeeze out eVery dro of his blood,"
he savagely declared, as he left t e road and took
to the wayside ﬁeld.

Fifteen minutes afterward the old man was
disturbed at his pipe by a third visitor, a stout
built boy, who asked nearly the same ques-
tions as Dirk had put.

The querulous old chap was a little miﬁ‘ed at his
multiplicity of visitors.

“ Mought let a man ha’ his mornin’ pipe out,
anyhow, ’ he grumbled. “Wonder how many
more on ’em there are .3”

But he answered Tony’s questions, and gave
him the hint of Squam as the ending point of
this long chase.

Tony, on entering the road again, stopped for
a moment’s reﬂection. But his mind was quick.
ly made up. Instead of continuing the pursuit
he turned back. There was a new scheme in
his brain.

It was late in the morning when Will at length
drove into the town of Squam. It was well he
had not much further to go, for his horse was
about on his last legs. For the last mile or two
he had come at a dragging walk, and now seem-
ed about ready to lie down and give up the
ghost.

“ Take good care of that noble bea st,” exclaim-
ed Will, as he sprung from the rickety gig in
front of the country tavern around which were
grouped the few houses of Squam. “ He’ll be
called for. And now I want to get out of this
town as quick as I gut in it. When does the
next train go through?”

“ Which way?”

“ Any way. To New York, Philadelphia, or
I don’t care.”

“ It’s half an hour to the next train.”
I’ll wait. Get me a bite to

Will quickly ﬁnished the plain meal set out
before him.

“ You needn’t hurry,” said the landlord.
“You’ve got ﬁfteen minutes yet, and it’s not
ﬁve minutes’ walk to the station.”

“Guess I’ll ste over. You take good care
of that horse. ou’ll be paid for your trouble.
He will be called for in a couple of days. And
now good-by. I am in a hurry to get out of
this part of the State.”

He turned toward the door, and made a step
in advance. It was followed by two steps in
retreat, while Will’s face grew suddenly white.

And not without reason; for there stood Dirk
Dorgan, a smile of insolent triumph on his face.

“Ye’re in a hurry to go, are you, my lad?
Jist s’pose you make up yer mind to wait a bit.
I’ve got a little crow to pick with you.”

 
CHAPTER XI.
A TURN IN rm: GAME.

To say that Will was startled does not half
express it. He was overwhelmed, dumfounded,
utterly upset with surprise at this extraordinary
circumstance. Had Dirk Dorgan dropped from
the skies, or shot up from the earth? No mat-
ter how, he was there, at any rate, with a grin
of malicious triumph on his face, and it did not
take Will long to realize that he was in a very
tight box.

“Soho, my jolly young sprout,” said Dirk,
with a sneering laugh. “ You thought you had
the old bull by the horns. What do you think
0’ yerself, anyhow, my nimble little scapegal-
lows? A neat ghost you are nowT aren’t you?”

Will had been looking to the right and left,
in a dazed fancy that some avenue of escape
might open. But no chance appeared. He
must face the music. At the thought he ﬂung
off the dismay that had for the moment mas~
tered him, and regained his vanished courage.

“ Get out of my way,” he haughtin demand-
ed. “ How dare you obstruct my passage?
Do you permit fellows like this to interfere
with the movements of your guests?” he asked
the landlord.

The latter had been looking confusedly from
one to the other of the contestants, at a loss
what to make out of the scene. Will’s haughty
demeanor now gave him his cue.

“ No,” he declared. “ Who the deuce are
you. and what do you mean by stopping up my
door?” he demanded of Dirk. “Get away from
there now, and let this oung gentleman pass,
before I ﬁnd the means 0 make you.”

“ Old cock and voung. Dunno which crows
loudest,” sneered Dirk. “ Mebbe some on you’d
like to put me outer the way. If you’ve got
that notion. I’m agreeable.”

“Threaten me, do you, fellow!” stormed the

 
landlord. “ By cock and pie, you’ll go if 1 say
the word! What do you want here?’

There were several stout fellows in the bar-
room, and Dirk thought it expedient to haul in
his horns.

“ Don’t git riled,” he soothineg remarked.
" Didn’t want to tech yer sore spots. It’s only
arter that boy I am, the rascally little thief!”

“ Thief!” exclaimed Will hotly. “ I defy you
to prove that I’ve stolen anything from you."

" Thief!” repeated the landlord, with a ques-
tioning look.

“ Jist so,” answered Dirk. “ The young
hound stole some valuable papers from me, and
made tracks. Luckv I overhauled him, or
there’d been the Old Nick to pay. What’s more
he stole a horse and gig, that I s’pect is in your
stables now.”

“ That’s so,” acknowledged the landlord.
“ So this is your game, is it, my lad? Trying
to make me a receiver of stolen goods, eh?”

“ He lies!” rejoined Will angrily. “ The
horse and gig are all right, as you will ﬁnd.
As for the papers—”

“ Dig on,” broke in Dirk. “ What ’bout the
pa rs?”

“ I‘ll hand them over to the right owner..
They‘ll not go out of my care till then.”

“You will, hey ?” cried Dirk. “ Ye’re a very
accommodatin’ young person, you are. Pile
’eiii over then. I’ve anotion they’ll git in the
ri ht hands.”

e stepped forward. and reached out his.
brawny hand for VVill’s collar. The lad re-
treated behind the landlord and his boon com-
panions.

“I call on you for protection against this ruf-
ﬁan,” he demanded.

At this appeal one of the men arose and cons
fronted Dirk.

“Hold your level, my good fellow,” he said.
“It’s an ugly charge you bring. It needs to be-

proved.”

“ I'll prove it, then. Let the little thief hand
you over the papers. If he can tell you what
they are, he can keep them. If he can’t, and I
tell you what’s in every one of them, they’re-
mine. Isn’t that square?”

The men looked at each other with an air of
concurrence.

“ That sounds correct,” said the one who had
spoken. “ I don’t know any easier way of prov-
ing property. Hand me the papers, boy. IVe’lI
see who can best describe them. ’

Will had listened to this conversation, but he
had been listening more intently for something
else. It came at this instant, a long, shrill, 1ar-'
off whistle.

He now put on an air of deﬁance, as he edged
around toward the wall of the room.

“They are not his papers, and I deny any
right of his to see them.”

“ That won’t work, my lad,” declared the--
man severely. “He’s asking only for the
square thing. Hand them over now, or we’li
gave, to go through your pockets for the plun-

er.

At this moment the whistle came again,
louder and nearer, an unmistakable locomotive
signal.

“If I must, I must,” rejoined Will, thrusting
his hand into his pocket. “ But it’s an outrage,
and I’ll stick to that.”

The man held out his hand, with a superior
smile, for the documents. His face had a look
of wisdom that would have put Solomon to
shame.

He was destined to be slightly surprised. In-
stead of handing him the papers Will suddenly"
struck up his hand, and darted like a deer un—
der his outstretched arm. Ere Dirk could make
a movement to intercept him he had shot past,
and gained the hotel door.

“ Good-by,” he cried.
Philadelphia."

Away he went, toward the railway station,
which the whistling engine was now rapidly ap-
proachin .

A look of blank astonishment passed over the‘
faces of the inmates of the bar—room, who had
been completely deceived. Then, with a ﬁerce
oath, Dirk wheeled around on his heel, and put
himSelf in rapid pursuit.

Dewn the street they went, boy and man,
while the men who had been left in the lurch
streamed in a long line after.

Will was active and swift, and darted on-
ward like a young deer. His pnrsuer lumbered
after, quickly falling into the rear. It was evi-
dent that he would not be able to overtake the
boy. Meanwhile the sound of the coming engine
grew momentarily louder.

Unluckily Will was nna
locality of the station, and

“You can ﬁnd me in

uainted with the: '
ad at first take:

 
wr' -“:‘ .. '

 
12

 
the wrong direction. The sound of the train
set him right but he had lost considerable di--
tance, while Dirk, who knew the town, made
directly for the station.

In consequence, when Will, out of breath,
reached the platform, his stalwart enemy was
not many feet behind him. The train was al-
ready in and at rest. It would make no long
staon at this small village.

puff of the whistle announced that the
train was on the point of starting. Will sprung
for a car. His foot was on the step, and the
train in motion. He looked over his shoulder
with a triumphant glance at his pursuer.

t was a risky moment. Dirk was nearer
than Will had imagined. At that instant his
heavy hand fell on the boy’s collar, a strong
jerk tore him from his hold, and the train
moved on, leaving Will held at full length of
Dirk’s powerful arm.

“ Weren’t so spry as you thought, you blessed
, oung coon,” said the captor, With a grim
. augh. “I’ve got you now, you katydid, and
I’ll have them papers, if I have to shake ’em out
of yer skin.”

‘ You will, eh?” cried the resolute boy.
“‘ Here, conductor; hold on to this!” v

With a rapid movement Will tore the roll of
papers from his breast, and sent them with a
quick ﬂing to the conductor, who stood on the
platform of the rear car, then just moving past.

The surprised conductor grasped at the packet
ﬂung him, bending far over to do so. It struck
his hand, but he failed to grasp it. It fell to
the track behind the departing train.

Will had pla ed his last card, and had failed.
Dirk released im and sprung for the package.
He was too late. The man who had taken the
‘xhnatter in hand in the bar-room was ahead of

1m.

“Just hold your horses,” exclaimed this in~
dividual as he picked u the fallen arcel. "I
believe I was appointe umpire 0 this little
game. “You’ve got to prove property, my
good sir, before you touch this package.
Wasn’t that the bargain?”

“ Yes, yes,” replied the men to whom he had
appealed.

“That’s my offer,” rejoined Dirk. “Iain’t
cgoin’ back on it.”

“ That looks to me about the size of the job,”
'broke in the landlord. “ But let‘s adjourn back
to the hotel. There ain’t no more trains coming
anldnwe’d best go through the thing judgmati-
ca.

This proposition seemed a wise one, and the
party made their way back to their starting-

oint.
p Will walked with them quietly enough. He
had done his best, and was defeated. There
was no use struggling against fate; but he was
determined not to lose sight of that interesting
parcel while the ghost of a chance remained.

“It’s about time we were going back,” re-
marked the landlord, pointing ahead. “ There’s
a carriage with a neat bay horse at the hotel
door. I fancy I’ve been running away from
guests.”

They looked curiously at the horse as they

assed. It was a stranger, and as wet as if it

ad taken along, hard journey. But there was
other matter of more interest just now, and
they crowded into the bar-room, in which there
was no sign of new guests.

“We’ll soon settle this jig,” remarked the
'man with the papers, as he Opened the package
and examined them. “ There’s a number and
a name at the head of each paper. The owner
ought to be able to give these names. Your
turn. my lad. What name is on number
one?”

“ I don’t know,” answered Will sullenly.

The men exchanged signiﬁcant glances.

“ It is your turn now,” the umpire said to
‘Dirk. “ What is number one named?”

“ I’m not sure ’bout the numbers,” answered
.Dirk, standing witha ﬁrm grip on his chair;
“ but you bet I kin lay down the names. It’s
my notion as number one is——”

“Dirk Dorgan!” came a loud voice from the
‘rear door of the room.

“ Hillol” exclaimed the waterman, looking to
see who had accosted him.

There walked into the room a tall, strongly-
‘built man, with a very determined cast of coun-
tenance. He moved resolutely forward.

But Will had his eyes ﬁxed on another and
'smaller ﬁgure that f0110wed him. He could
hardl repress a cry; it was no less a person
than ony Thorne. »

Will would have rushed toward him with an

, exclamation, only for some very energetic sig-

‘nals from Tony, who drew back again into the
dudow of the. doorwav.

 
“Who are you?” exclaimed Dirk, looking in
surprise at the new -comer.

“ Somebody you don’t care to see,” was the
stern answer, as the man’s hand fell on Dick’s
shoulder. “I am the constable of Clarion
county, and I arrest you for the murder of Will
Worth.”

Dirk glared at him in surwise.

“ Arrest me? Murder? by, here’s the boy
now! How the blazes could he be murdered
when he’s here?”

The constable turned sharply to Will, whose
face was strange to him.

“Who? This boy? Do you mean to declare
that this is the boy whom you left last night to
drown?”

“ He wants to rob me,” declared Will, taking
the cue. “ I have some important papers here
which he is trying to get from me.”

“You lie! you reprobate," cried Dirk.
“ There’s a boy that knows all ’bout it,” pointing
to Touy. “ Step up here, youngster, and tell
the truth. Ain’t that the boy that they say I
murdered?”

Tony ste ped forward, with a queer look on
his face. e looked at Dirk, and then at Will,
as if puzzled.

“ Won’t do, Dirk Dorgan,” he declared, shak-
ing his head. “You can’t play no sich gum-
game as that. Didn’t s’pose I was goin’ to lie,
to help you out, did you? You got hold of the
wron coon, now you mind.”
by, you blasted devil’s cubl” roared Dirk,
springing uriously at Tony.

But before he could reach the boy he was
caught by the constable, who, with a quick and
skillful motion, slipped a pair of handcuffs on
his wrists.

“It’s a neat game, my man but it won’t
work ” he steme remarked. “ ou’ll go back
to icmac with me, if I have to take you in
pieces. And you’ll have to bring upa better
witness than this lad before you get clear of a
charge of murder.”

He laid his band again heavily on the shoulder
of the prisoner, who was utterly speechless with
rage.

 
CHAPTER XII.
IN THE HANDS or THE LAW.

“ NOT proved. That‘s the verdict,” remarked
the man who had a pointed himself umpire.
“ Here, young man, guess this is your proper-
ty.” He returned Will the package of papers.
“ Sorry we let ourselves be taken in by this fel-
10w.’

In fact, the unexpected arrest of Dirk on a
charge of murder had created an intense excite-
ment among the tenants of the bar-room, who
retreated before Dirk’s glaring looks as if he had
been an escaped tiger. And he would have been
as bad as a tiger to deal with, had not the con-
stable so alertly slipped the handcuffs on his
wrists.

He was foamin with rage, while his little
glaring eyes reste in impotent fury on the two
boys.

“ Why, you infernal little hell-dogs l” he roar-
ed, “have you got the cheek to stand up there
and Say you don’t know one another, and that
this young rat ain’t the one I left on Pigmy
Island? Hang my top-knot, if that ain’t the
richest job I ever heerd on! Do you want to
han me, you White-IIVIfN‘d scapegraces?”

“ Vouldn’t be much loss,” answered Tony
shortly. “ There’s often been better men hung.”

“I am very sorry,” chimed in Will, with a
sly smile. “It will be a pity if you are ever
hanged. But, you know, if you choose to get
up a little comedy, you can’t expect everybody
to play in it.”

“ Blast yer imperdent pictur’-—” began Dirk,
but he was suddenly cut short by the constable.

“ Come—come,” said the latter. “ There has
been about enough of this. It was a neat game
you tried, Dirk Dorgan, but it has failed. Back
to Micmac you go, and without delay.”

“ Ye’re a blind fool, or ye’d see the boys was
lyin’,” declared Dirk. “I’ll go, if you’ll fetch
then; along. And hang the step I’ll go with-
out!

Tony and Will had exchanged a few words in
the mean time.

“ All right; We will go,” said the latter.
“ Mind you all, I haven’t said I‘m the boy or
ain’t the boy that Dirk tried to murder. That’s
got to be settled before the magistrate. I sup-
pose if I should say I was the boy, this gentle-
man wouldn’t believe it.”

“ Not much,” answered the constable shortly.
“I ain’t uite green enough to be sold for an
onion. e’ll all go back to Micmac together,
and settle the business there. I will leave my

Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective.

.-

horse here, landlord. There’s a train about due
for Micmac; we’ll take that down.”

Dirk fell into a sullen silence. He was satis-
ﬁed so long as Will was to go back with him.
Once cleared of the charge of murder, he
could force the boy to return the stolen pa rs.

In less than half an hour afterward, thes ore-
bound train came whistling in. Within two
minutes more it was off again, with our friends
on board. An hour more passed by, and it came
to a halt in the station of Micmac, within hear-
ing of the roar of the sea, and with the odor of
the ocean in the air.

Acurious crowd followed the party as they
made their way through the streets of the sea-
side town, Dirk still handcuffed and under the
vigilant eyes of the constable, while Will and
Tony walked close behind.

A few minutes brought them to the magis-
trate’s office, which was quickly ﬁlled by the
thronging crowd.

“ What is the matter?” they asked one an-
other. “Is this the murderer? He looks like it,
by Jove!”

Others were staring at Will, whom they rec.
ognized as the missing boy. It was altogether
a very odd affair. The hearing proceeded in
an informal manner.

The constable’s story was quickly told, the
prisoner identiﬁed as Dirk Dorgan, the man
who was charged with the murder of the miss-
ing boy, and the magistrate began to write a.
commitment.

“ Jis s’pose you hold yer bosses a bit,” growls
ed Dirk, now speaking for the ﬁrst time.
“There’s sich a thing as shootin’ ahead 0’ yer
mark. I don’t see how, under the laws of these
United States, a man kin be hung for murder-
in’ a boy that’s still kickin’ in his skin. S’pose
you explain how.”

“ No insolence sirrah !” roared the important
magistrate. ” hat do you mean by this ridic-
ulous speech?”

“ I mean that the boy’s here, at your elbow.
Ain’t got a hair rumpled on his head. I’d like

on to order this sharp coon to take these brace-
ets off my wrists. Only that I’m a quiet man
I’d brained him with ’em afore now.”

The puzzled magistrate rolled his eyes about
the room.

“What does he mean?” he helplessly demando
ed. “ Where is this b0 2”

“ Here,” cried several: pushing Will forward.
“ The prisoner tells the truth, sir. We can tes-
tify that this is Will lVorth, whom this man is
accused of having murdered.”

“Is that the fact?” asked the astonished oﬂi—
cial, addressing Will.

“ Yes, sir,” replied the latter. “ He left me
on Pigmy Island I might have been drowned,
but I wasn’t. { was taken off in time to save
Dirk Dorgan’s neck.”

“Then what does this ridiculous business
mean?” demanded the magistrate severely of
the constable. “Why have you brought this
man and boy before me?”

“ Because I did not know the boy, and be de-
nied that he was “'ill Worth."

“Excuse me. I did nothing of the kind,”
averred Will.

“ Then this chap did.”

“ Nary time,” answered Tony.
beat ’round the bush a triﬂe.”

“It’s a fool of a business right through," cried
the constable, in a rage. “ I have done my
duty in arresting the man under the warrant in
my hands, and bringing him in. Do you dis-
charge him, your honor?"

“Certainly. The prisoner stands discharged.”

The constable quietly removed the handcuffs
from Dirk’s wrists.

The stalwart waterman shook himself with
the energy of a Newfoundland dog, while a grin
of satisfaction pervaded his broad face.

“ Another time don’t go so fast. and you
won’t have to eat dirt,” he sarcastically re~
marked to the constable. “ And now, your
honor, I’ve got my charge to make. Don’t let
that boy leave the room. I charge him with
stealing from mea package of valuable docu-
ment—r, which he has with him at this present
minute.”

“ Aha!” exclaimed the surprised magistrate.
“ A charge of larceny. This is a serious matter.
Secure that boy. This may as well be looked
into now. Bring forward the defendant.”

But Will did not wait to be secured. He
walked boldly up to the magistrate’s desk.

“ I deny the charge,” he said. “I defy him
to prove it.”

“ Not so fast. Not so fast,” cried the omcial,
busily writing. “ Not a word from any one
until I am ready to question you.” He con-
tinued to write. “ There! Now, my man,

“ We only

 
a

 
Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective.

 
13

 
‘mke your charge. What are the particulars

'of this alleged larceny T’

Dirk described the loss of his papers and his
efforts to recover them, in somewhat confused
language. The magistrate turned to Will, who
stood in an easy and conﬁdent attitude, await-
ing his questions.

“ Don t look like a thief,” muttered the oﬂi—
cial. “ Well, young man, what have you to
say to this charge?”

“ It is a tissue of nonsense from beginning to
end,” answered Will. “I have stolen nothing
from this man.”

“ You have the papers,” cried Dirk. “ The
constable here saw them in Squam.”

“ You have not proved that they are yours,”
rejoined Will, eaSily. “ I did have a roll of
papers, your honor, which this man claims. I

icked t em up on the ﬂoor of a room in Jake

umps’s cottage, where some one had dropped
them.”

“ It was I dropped ’em there, and Well you
know it,” roared Dick.

“ Silence !" severely commanded the ma is-
trate. “This isa stran eaccusation. But he
papers themselves shou d show who is their
rightful owner. Pass them up to me, young man.
I will take charge of them until their ownership
is proved.” _

‘I am sorry,” began Will, in an easy tone;
“ but I am not able to do so."

“ Not able? Why not?"

“ Because the are no longer in my possession.
I have returns them to the man in who:
house I found them by the hands of his nephew,
Tony Thorne."

This quiet declaration made an excitement in
the ofﬁce of the magistrate.

“It is a lie!” cried Dirk, harshly. “He has
them about him. I demand that he be search-
ed. And fetch up the other boy, that young
imﬁi, Tony.”

at Tony was not to be found. Just when
he had left the room nobody knew, but he was
certainly gone. And with him had gone Dirk‘s
treasured documents, as Will’s easy demeanor
proved. There was another [serious Checkmate
to the old rascal’s game.

“You can search me,” said Will, quietly. “I
have no objections. But I am afraid you won’t
ﬁnd any stray valuables on my person.”

“ Where’s the other young rat?” cried Dirk,
in a fury. “ He’s got my papers! Make. a
track, there, gentlemen. I’ll have them if I
have to squeeze every ounce 0’ blood out of his
dirty carcass.”

He turned and plunged through the mass of
people with such vigor that they drew back in
hasty alarm, as if a mad bull had charged into
their midst. In a moment he was in the street,
plunging furiously onward.

The others rus ed out after him, curious to
see the end of the race. Tony was nowhere in
sight, but Dirk ‘pushed forward in a straight
line, as if he ha a deﬁnite idea in his brain.
His course, in fact, led directly toward the
railroad de ot. He was sharp enough to know
that the ho der of those documents was through
with his business in Micmac.

He had not gone far, however, ere the sharp
clang of a bell, was followed by the short, impa—
tient puﬂ of an engine whistle. The rumble of
rolling wheels came to their ears. 'It was the out-

oing train, bound for Philadelphia, and. already

Bond the reach of pursu1t. _

irk stopped in his mad ﬂight. He grasped
his hair with an angry jerk, as if he would pull
it out by the roots.

“The young rat’s in it,” he declared. “ He’s
too wide awake to stay in the same town With
Dirk Dorgan with them papers in his pocket.
Mark Wilson scores one, but he ain’t won the
game yet. Blast my eyes, if I don’t show him
that I ve got another shot in my locker!” .

He hastened to the river-side, ﬂung himself
into a boat and crOSSed over to the old town.
Here he sought his cottage, and at once began
to put things in order for an exreiided absence.
The story of his acquittal had crossed the river
before him, and his fellow-watermen merely
stared at him, without attempting to molest

,him.

The next outgoing train for Philadelphia
took in it two more of our characters as passen-
gers, Will Worth and Dirk Dorgan.

 
CHAPTER XIII.
TONY Gm IN ms woax.
WI must precede the ﬂight of our characters
from the town by the sea to the Cit of
Brotherly Love. to which they were all so ling
It railroad speed.
In the once of the large mercantile establish-

.I had only intended my ViSit to be temporary.

 
ment of Wilson & Brown sat the two members
of the ﬁrm in company with another personage,
a keen-eyed, sharp-faced individual.

They were engaged in earnest conversation,
the third person of the party listening with
close attention to the remarks of his compan-
ions.

“You see how the affair stands n0w,” re-
marked Mr. Wilson. “I fear it was an idle
scheme of mine to send the boys down there. I
have received no advices from there yet, and
have come to the conclusion that they will be
no match for the shrewd villain with whom
they have to deal. I even fear that he may do
them a harm if he discovers their errand, for he
is a violent character. For that reason I sent
for on.”

“ 0 go down and look after the safety of the
boys?”

“ Yes; and try to get at Dirk Dorgan’s
secret.”

“I see; I see. Very well, I am open for the
job. But I cannot go it blind. I must know all
the circumstances of the affair so that I can
work intelligently. Nothing is to be picked up
by groping in the dark.”

“You are right,” rejoined Mr. Wilson. “I
don’t like to open old sores, but of course you
must learn the story of my life ere you can
know how to act. I am of English birth, Mr.
Mor an, as perhaps you may know.”

" xactly, sir. Proceed.’

“I inherited a valuable estate in England,
married there, and had one child, a charming
little boy. You will excuse me if I make this
story ver short. Amen the servants whom I
emp 0y was one Dirk organ, a surly fellow
who had been a sailor in his time, and bore a
very doubtful character. I did not know his
reputation until afterward, but found him a
difﬁcult customer to get along with, and had to
reprimand him very severely on several occa-
sions. Finally, for some insolence I knocked
the fellow down with a cane, and discharged
him from my service.”

“ Nothing uncommon in that,” remarked Mr.
Morgan.

“ He was of a violent temper, and sought to
gain revenge. He assailed me, in fact, and
injured me severely, for which he was arrested,
and sentenced to a year’s imprisonment. Such
is the first chapter of my story.”

“Sawore deadly revenge against you, Isup-
pose

“So I understand. But before he was re-
leased from prison I had left England. A com-
mercial enterprise into which I had entered
obliged me to makeahastyjourney to America.

But on arriving here I found asplendid business
opening, that induced me to remain. My wife
had continued in England, and I employed her
in disposing of my property there, ere joining
me in America. In con36quence of this a year
elapsed before she set sail for this country, with
my child in the barque Emma, a vessel belong-
ing to the mercantile house of which I wasa
partner. ”

“ Dirk meanwhile had been released?" queried
Mr. Morgan.

“ Yes, and had come to this country, where
he had settled as a ﬁsherman on the coast. I
have reason to believe that he still retained his
project of rev nge against me. He unhappily

ained a splendid opportunity to carry it out.

n a fearful storm, now about seventeen years
ago, the barque Emma was wrecked on the
New Jersey coast, and nearly every soul on
board swa lowed up by the merciless sea. She
was lured to the coast by false lights, if we are
to believe some of the watermen of the coast,
who do not hesitate to blame Dirk for the work.
However, that remains unproved. At all
events she went to pieces, and my poor wife
went to the bottom with her.”

He paused in emotion. Mr. Morgan looked
at him in sympathy, and asked:

“ The boy? Was he saved?”

f‘ There were only two souls came ashore
alive. A_sailor and my child. He was carried
by the sailor, but was taken from him while he
was in a sWoon. He has never been seen since.”

“ That is very strange,” remarked Mr. Mor-
gan. “ Does no one know what was done with
the child, or who obtained it?”

“Not a soul knows. All we know is that
Dirk Dorgan disappeared that night from the
village of Micmac, and was absent for several
weeks. He then returned and resumed his old
life, as if nothing had happened.”

“ You are sure theorescued child was yours!”

“Oh yes! The sailoris still alive, and has
testiﬁed to that.”

“ It is a strange story.

 
You have made

eﬁorts, you say, to discover the truth from
Dirk?”

” Many. But all useless. I am satisﬁed that
he has proofs concealed that would put me on-
the track of my child, if they could be obtained.
I have sent the boys down on a last effort to
get these proofs. It is the same mission which

wish you to undertake.”

“ It is a doubtful enterprise,” remarked Mr.
Morgan, shaking his head. “ We might arrest
him and search his premises, but I imagine it
would be useless. Such men know well the art
of concealing. As for inducing him to reveal
his secret there is hardly a forlorn ho of that.
Possibly some happy chance—such c ances do
occasionally occur. At all events nothing tried,
nothing won. I will go.”

“I have but slight hopes of success,” an-
swered Mr. Wilson mournfully. “Yet it is
likely that the boys may have made Dirk’s ac»
qiiiaintance by this time, and through their
ai -—‘

He was interrupted by the opening of the
door, which was ﬂung back with as much vigor
as if it had been struck by a battering-ram.
The space was ﬁlled with no less a rson than
Tony Thorne, who stood there wit sparkling
eyes, and ﬂushed face.

“ Here I am!” he cried. “ Right side up with
care! Jolly as a rooster, and Wide-awake as a.
June-bu ! Bet you high that Tony and Will
are the Iadsl If we ain’t gone through Dirk
Dorgan like a cat through a milk-pan, then,
there’s no use talkin‘, that’s all."

“ What’s the matter, boy?” Mr. Brown:
sprung up and grasped him by the arm.
“ Have you lost our senses? What ails you?”

“Guess my rain-pan’s sound,” answered
Ton shortl .

“ hen what do I{you mean?” asked Mr. Wil-
son eagerly. “ ave you been successful!
Have you got the—”

“There they are,” exclaimed Tony, slam-
ming the package of papers on the table with a.
thunderin slap. “Fetched ’em, you bet! Will
and Tony are the boys. Gothrough ‘em instan-
ter, for old Dirk is arter me like a nigger arter'
a ’possum. He’ll sp’ile the game if he gets his
play in afore you.”

Tony sunk into a chair, utterly exhausted
with his haste and his excitment. The remain-
ing members of the arty were not less excited.
Mr. Wilson seized t e package with trembling
ﬁngers, opened it, and scattered the papers it
contained loosely over the table.

He snatched u the ﬁrst of these that came to
his hand, and urriedly examined it. Then,
with a ﬂushed face and gleaming yes, he
:pruéig up and seized Tony impulsiver; by the-

an s.

“The thanks of a father on you, my lad,” he
fervently exclaimed. “They are the desired
proofs. TheB will put me on the track of my
stolen son. 0 not fear but I will repay you.
richlv for this service.”

“Guess I‘ve had my
swered Tony indifferently. “Best pay Will.
It was him snatched the dock ments. And
law5ee! ain’t we had aroyal od time! You
best believe.”

“Examine them, Mr. Morgan and Mr.
Brown,” cried the excited father. “Dirk has:
been kind enough to preserve written state-
ments of all his operations, as I had reason to
think. These are in our hands now. He has
furnished us the means of defeating his
schemes.”

The other gentlemen examined the papers
carefully. After doing so Mr. Morgan looked

out in fun,” an—

p.

“ There will be no need of going to the shore-
for evidence,” he said. “We have it here, in
black and white. But we have not the child
yet. It seems by these papers that Dirk placed
her in charge of a woman named Rehecca
Luke, in this city. That woman must be
found, and quickly, before Dirk can see her.
Did you say he was following you?” he asked

Tony.

“ Calk’late he is. I left him in Micmac,but
I bet high he’s arter me on the next train.
What did you say the woman’s name was?"
There was an odd twinkle in Tony’s eye.

“ Rebecca Luke,” replied the detective quick-
ly. “ Do you know her?”

‘ No,” answered Tony. “ I’ve a notion,
though, I kin git on her track afore she’s much-
oéder.” His face was full of the light of a shrew d
i ea.

“Do so, then, as quick as possible.
while I will set the machiner
force at work to discover her.

Mean—-
of the police
f she is still in

»this city I will promise to trace her in the no:

live or six hours”

 
,usv‘ .~ .—
.(g

c". mmcrr‘ 2;:

l,

.14 . Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective.

‘ ,‘ Mr  ., or  .i 

 
“And the next train from Micmac will be

due in three hours," declared Tony. “That

fetches Dirk. Dirk goes and puts mischief in
this woman’s head. The game’s all up. Five or
six hours won't do,”

“Come with me, b0 ,” cried Mr Morgan.

“ You know Dirk. V e will watch the train.
Put me on his track once, and I promise to dis-
count his little game. Come on, there are no min-
utes to spare now. We must strike while the
iron is hot.”

He hastened from the oﬁice, followed by
Tony. But the latter was much the less excited
of the two. There was evidently a queer idea
at work in his brain, which brought a sly smile
every few minutes to his lips. Ton was un-

doubtedly working up a little game 0 his own,

that was warranted to discount the detective’s

sharpest scheme.

 
CHAPTER XIV.
max BLOCKS THE nnracrrva’s own.

In a meanly-furnished room in a tumble-down
house, in a southern section of the city, sat a
wrinkled and ill-favored old woman, who look-
ed as if she had grown old rather through vice
than years. She was rocking herself in a creak-
ing old chair which threatened to go to pieces
with every movement. As she rocked, she
bummed to herself in a cracked voice some
dittv of her youthful days.

“The ungrateful young divill” she sourly
muttered to herself. “He ran awe. and left
me, he did. If he’d only knowed, he’ not been
so quick. I’ll pinch him yet—I’ll pinch the un-
grateful brat till he howls!"

She closed her thumb and ﬁnger with a spite-
1ul movement, as if she had a morsel of livin
ﬂesh between them. There was something crue
‘in the glare of her twinkling eyes.

Ere she could say more the door was ﬂung
quickly open, and a man hastily broke into the
room. It was the stalwart form of Dirk Dor-

an.
S “ Quick!" he cried. “I am tracked by the
police. My papers are stolen; I trust to you to
save the whole game!”

The woman sprung to her feet with an alert
She seemed to have regained her

energy.
youthful vigor.
" Dirk!” she exclaimed. “You here?——and

tracked? Speak~quick! What am I to do?”
“ Swear you neVer saw the boy—you had no
1”
“ Pish! It won’t do,” she cried sneeringly.
" There’s dozens know it. And they’ve got the
papers ydu was fool enough to keep. It won’t
do 71

“ You’ve lost sight of him, then,” Dirk hastily
continued. “ He ran away, ears ago. You
don’t know where in the worl he is.”

“ That’s better.” She nodded approvingly, as
she sunk back in her chair. '

“Stick to it,” cried Dirk. “You know me,
Beccy. Don’t dare go back on me.”

Ere more could be said the door aﬁain opened
and the tall, athletic form of Mr. organ en-
tered.

He looked knowingly from one to the other of
the two persons present.

“ Dirk Dorgan,” he said, “ I am happy to
make your acquaintance. Mrs. Luke, our
most obedient. I am sorry I was not a ittle
sooner, as I would have enjoyed the short con-
versation you have been having together.”

“Who are you?” Dirk harshly demanded.
“ What do you want?”

“ Suppose you let the lady of the house answer
that question,” replied the oﬁ‘lcer. “As for who
I am you will soon know.”

He turned to the door and made a sign. A
policeman entered.

“Take care of this man.” He pointed to Dirk.
“ Beware,” he continued. “I have a warrant
in my pocket against a certain Dirk Dorgan for
child-stealing. Keep quiet if you don’t want to
get into mischief.”

Dirk turned slightly pale at this pointed
warning, yet be retained his scornful expression
of countenance.

“ Go ahead,” he remarked. “ I won’t inter-
fore.”

“ Then you have done the mischief I feared
already,” rejoined Mr. Morgan, with a threaten-
ing look at the stolid rufﬁan. “ It is a long lane
that has no turning. Dirk Dorgan, as you may
ﬁnd ere you are done with me.”

He turned to the old woman, who had con-
tinued to rock herself during this conversation.

“ Now, Mrs. Luke, I want some information
from, you ” began the ofﬁcer, in a stern tone.
“You will ﬁnd it to our advantage to answer

me clearly and tru hfully. Seventeen years

 
a o a child, then not more than a year old. was
paced in your charge. Where is that child
now?”

He bent his br0ws threateningly upon the
old woman, as if he desired to intimidate her
into making some damagin admission. But he
did not know his party. éIllrs. Luke ut on a
lugubrious expression, and broke out in a high

key:

“If you’ll only bring him back to his old
aunty again, I’ll forever bless your sweet face,”
she cried, in strained accents. “Do I remem-
ber the boy? It’s wellIremember him. I’ve not
had a night’s sleep since he ran away from me,
the blessed young thafe. Oh, wirra! but it was
a bitter pill for me. I loved the little lad like
he’d been my own. Och! that he could ever
leave his old aunty!”

“Where is he now?” asked Mr. Morgan,
sternly.

“Serra the one of me knows! It’s a good
ten years since I set eyes on the blessed rap-
scallion. And I’m always afeared my dead
and gone sister will rise from her grave to
ax what I’ve done with her boy. But. indeed,
I treated the ungrateful lad like he was an an-
geli ﬁnd it’s never my fault that he went to the

a

The ofﬁcer turned his shrewd eyes from Dirk’s
stolid face to the lugubrious countenance of the
old woman.

“ Your sister? What has she to do with it?”

Mrs. Luke drew the back of her hand across
her 9 es, as if to wipe away a tear.

“ asn’t it my own sister Maggie’s son, as
was married to Dirk’s brother here? Ah, me,
what a pretty galshe was! They are both dead
years agone, the more’s the pity. Dirk took the
baby and brought it to me to fetch up. Ah,
wirra! but I’ve done my duty badly.”

Mr. Morgan’s brows contracted as be con-
tinued to look in Mrs. Luke’s whining face. He
answered, sternly:

“That story won’t do, my good woman. It
is a tissue of lies from beginning to end. If you
are wise you will tell the truth honestly. I
know far more of your history than you imag-
ine, but I will give you a chance to redeem

ourself without further trouble. Make aclean

roast of it, and you will be made comfortable
for the remainder of your life; continue to lie,
and you go to rison.”

“Me lie, is it. It’s lucky for you I’m a weak
old woman, or l’d tear your eyes out fer the in-
sult. Oh, mercy on me! I’ve lived till this
day to be called aliar by a cream-faced rupscal-
lion like this! An old woman with gray hairs!
Tcithink of the shame of it!”

She rocked herself violently, with her hands
to her eyes, from which she seemed to be seek-
inﬁito force tears.

r. Mor an turned suddenly to Dirk, on
whose face urked a sneering smile.

“You have a neat confederate,” he remarked.
“ She has been taught her story well. I might
believe her but that I have evidence in your
own handwriting to the contrary. You will go
with me.”

“ Where?”

“ Where I please. To prison if I like. Your
only hope for liberty is in telling the truth.”

‘ Go ahead,” said Dirk, deﬁantly. “ I dare
you to prove anything against me.”

Mr. Morgan turned to the oliccman.

“ You take charge of the o d lady, Mr. Jones.
Don’t let her out of your sight. I will send an
ofﬁcer with a search~warrant to search her
house.”

“ Search my house!” exclaimed Mrs. Luke,
angrily. “ And for what, you insulting black-
guard?”

“ For the baby clothes of the child that was
left in your care.” ‘

 
CHAPTER XV.
THE LAST TUNE or A VIOLIN.

IT was the day succeeding that in which the
events just described had taken place. In the
private office of Wilson & Br0wn a group of per-
sons was guthered. These consisted of the two
members of the ﬁrm, of Dirk Dorgan and Mrs.
Luke, of the detective, Mr. Morgan, and one or
two other persons connected with the mercantile
establishment.

A IOng conversation had taken place, but with
little effect. Dirk was still stolid and obstinate.
As for Mrs. Luke neither promises or threats
had any effect on her. She alternated between
whining .and abuse, until the shrewd detec—
tive was at his wits’ end how to get to the bot-
tom of the lie which he knew she was telling.

“ We have a clear case against these persons,

 
Mr. Wilson,” he remarked. “Your recognition
of the child’s clothes, and trinkets, which were
found in Mrs Luke’s house, to be thOSe worn by
your son, is satisfactory evidence.” He pointed
to a small heap of garments on the table. “ The
sailor who brought the child ashore has seen
and recogniZed them. I have found lentiful
evidence that this woman had the chi d in her
keeping, and that she treated him with shame-
ful cruelty. He was forced to go out as a beg-
ging ﬁddler, and beaten cruelly if he did not
bring in the amount of money she demanded.
No wonder he ran away. But I will trace him
yet 21v the ﬁddle.”

“. e stole it, the dirty young thief,”declared
the old Woman shrewishly. “ He stole it, and
ran away, the little blackguard! Oh wirra, if
I on] had my two hands on the ﬁddle again,
that elonged to my own dead son!”

“ Is this it, Mother Luke?”

It was a youthful voice that spoke. Tony
Thorne stood before the old Woman, holding up
a diminutive, sadly-cracked violin.

She glanced ,at the musical instrument with
wild-staring eyes, and then snatched it eagerly
from his hands, while a pulse of real emotion
passed over her wrinkled face.

“ It is mine! It is mine!” she e'aculated,
pressing it eagerly to-her bosom. “ any and
many a time have I gone to sleep to its music.
It is my own that loved as much as I hated
the runaway brat that stole it. Nobody shall
ever take it from me again.”

Here was a decided change in the programme.
Every eye was ﬁxed on the old lady, who had
at last been moved to a truthful expression, and
on the boy, who stood before her with a very
knowin look on his shrewd young face.

Mr. organ quickly took the cue. He turned
to Tony with a surprised countenance.

“ So you were on the track all the time you
keen young rogue.” he exclaimed. “ Vi here
(aid you get the ﬁddle? You know the missing

y?

“ You bet!” answered Tony.

Two men sprung forward, Dirk and Mr. Wil-
son, each grasping one arm of the boy.

“You oung liar,” hissed the ﬁrst. “Look
out that don’t burst your poll.”

“ You know my son!” cried the second. “ Oh!
where is he? Restore him to my arms!"

“Don’t swaller me up alive,” cried Tony,
sourly, as he jerked loose from the two hands
that held him. “ It‘s jist as you say, Mr. Wil-
son. I kin lay my hands on your son. Nailed
him last night, as soon I heard that Mrs.
Luke was the woman as had him."

“ Where is he? Bring him to me!” cried the
excited futber.

" Look out for a surprise, then, for you know
him better than I do. Jist look sharp for a
queer old eye-opener. Come in here,” he cried,
with a raised voice. “ You’re wanted by your
daddy!”

All eyes were turned to the door of the ofﬁce,
at his call. To their utter astonishment. there
walked in the graceful form of Will Worth.
with a look of modest hope on his intelligent
young face.

Ere a word could be spoken, Mother Luke had
sprun forward and caught the boy by the arm,
while er bleared eyes ardently surveyed his
face. The incident of the violin had somehow
roused new thoughts and emotions in her mind,
and she was a different woman from what she
had been ten minutes before.

“It is be! It is he!” she cried. “ The boy I
brought up and who ran away from me. Ah!
the ungrateful scamp, arter all I’d done fer
him! But I’ve got my ﬁddle back. Nobody
shall eVer have it a sin. It is mine, mine!"

She released Wil ’1: arm, and hugged the re-
covered treasure to her breast, as if she, too,
had found a lost child.

Mr. Wilson stood for a moment in a state of
utter bewilderment.

“ Will! Will Worth!” he cried. “ He my lost
son? Ah, he is! be is! I was al ys drawn to
him! I always loved him! Co to my arms,
In boy! My long-lost son !”

n a moment he had Will cla. ,d in a close
embrace, while tears ran profu 1y from his
eyes, as be bent his headlin an attitude of pray-

er over the lost that had been found, the waif '

of the Sea, thus surprisingly returned to his
arms.

We need not dwell upon this strange ﬁnale
to our long tale of a boy’s life. It was an ex-
truordinary turn of circumstances that the lad
whom Mr. Wilson had himself brought up into
a business life, and had chosen to aid him in
the search for his abducted child, should him-
self prove to be that child, returned to him. in
this surprismg manner. Even Dirk’s harsh face

 
Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective.

 
15

 
could not repress a trace of emotion at this re-
markable turn of destiny.

The reader will for ive us if we quickly dis-
miss our characters. e have reached the last
scene of the play, and there is no need to tree;
the actors posturing before the curtain. It Will
suﬂice to say that Dirk was convicted of the
crime of child-stealing, and sentenced to an im-
irisonment oi! ten years in the State peniten-
tiary. As for his confederate, it could not be
proved that she knew the child to be stolen, and
.she was necessarily acquitted.

Mr. Wilson, over wnose life a cloud had so
long hung, was supremely happy once more in
the recovery of his lost son, and the m-re so
that the poor boy had passed unscathed
through the ﬁre of poverty and crime, and
emerged as worthy in nature as in name from
the perils of a vagrant’s life.

The happy father was not ungrateful. He
'had wealth enough to make comfortable all
who had aided in the search for his lost son.
The market-man who had been so kind to Will
in his boyish vagrancy has been given a boost
in business that has made him a man for life,
and as for Jake Dumps he blesses the day in
which his new-found nephew came to him. He
has no longer need to ﬁsh for a. living.

Tony Thorne has ceased to be a scape-grace
street boy. Well educated, and broken from
his old habits, he has long been a rominent
salesman in the store of Wilson Brown,
where his shrerness has enabled him to make
his markin the business world. He and Will
have become the closest of friends, and are not
likely soon to forget the great mill with Jimmy
Jones, which ﬁrst brought them together. It
is very likely that they will in time succeed the
older members of the ﬁrm, as arties in the
wealthy commercial house 0? Wilson &
Brown.

THE END.

 
Beadle’s Half-Dime library.

BY 11 A R R Y HAZARD.

323 Arkannnw Jack ; or, The Scourge of the Mines.
329 Rod-Skin Tour or, The Demon’s 'l‘ruil.
842 The Mountain Devil; 0r, Yellow Jiu'k, the Outlaw.

 
BY tYILLIA.“ l‘. EYSTER.
190 Dandy Burke; or, The Tigers oi High Pine.
210 Faro Frank; or, Dandy Dnrke‘a Go-Down l’nrdn.
BY ‘1'. J. HAMILTON.
63 The Red Brotherhood: or. The Twelve Avenger;
66 Single Hand: or, A Life for it Life.
73 Mad om “'e-lcrn, the Tenth Ranger.
337 Ben Bird. the Cove K1112; or. Big Pete’s Scoop.
BY FREDERICK DEWEY.
818 Clmnrron Jack, rho King-Pin of Riﬂe-Shotl.
478 ’l‘ungcmund, the Dcscrt Detective.
542 The Canyon Pardn.
BY LIEUT. II. D. PERRY, U. S. N.
176 The Boy Runaway; or. The llui‘raneer oi the Bay.
180 The Sea Trailer: or, A Vow Well Kopt.
19’ Captain Kit; or, The Mystery of Montauk Point.
BY GEDRGE C. JENKS.
435 Git Thur Owncy, the Unknnwn.
492 Git Thar Dwncy'n Pledge.
£518 The Demon Doctor.
't
BY CAPT. ALFRED B. TAYLDR, t. S. A.
191 Buil'alo Billy, the Boy Builwhacker; or. The Doomed

rioen.
194 Buil'nlo “111'! Beta or. The Gambler Guide.

BY COLON EL DELLE SARA.
108 The Lion oi'thc Sen; 0*, The Yniled Lady.
1256 Cool Desmond; or, The Gambler’s Big Hume.
BY JDHN J. MARSHALL.
40 Roving Ben. A Story ofa Young American.
97 The 0utlnw Brothers; or, The Captive oi the Harp".
BY BRACEBRIDGE HEM YNG.
89 IIIIINI Jim: 0". The Pet of the Funiily.
1 The Captain ofthc Club: or The Rivnl Athletes.
101 Jack Hark-way in New York.
BY FRANK DITMONT.
190 The Branded "and: or, The Man of Mystery.
197 Wlld-I‘Wre. the lions ’ii the Rond
140 Blue Blazes; or, The Brent: 0’ Day Bow ni Rotky Boi
171 Ebony Dan: 01'. The Rival Leagues. '
185 EVH ‘ve: or, The Vultures of the Rio Grande.
BY MAJOR LE‘VIS \V. CARSDN.
’78 The Three Trapper-g or. The Mount' In Monitor.
888 Indian Joe: or. The White Spirit oi'the H lla.
BY WM. G. PATTEN.
48’ The Diamond sport: or, The Double Face olBod Rock.

519 CI toln M Iter :or Five in One.
581 DJey Darcy, the port 'from Denver.

 
BY JACK FARRAGUT.

815 Ned, the Cabin Boy.
820 The Sea Sorceress; or, The Boy Skipper.

BY MAJGR HEN RY B. STODDARD. Ex-Scout.

806 Neck-Tie Nod; or, The Du >0ut l‘ards.

846 Rn ier Raphael; or. The. wordsmen oi'YAcatecas.

891 Kit -Glovc Kit, tlic Dandy ot'the Rockies.

398 Kid-Glove Kit and Pard; or, The Guiti King.

406 The Mad Mun-Hunter; or, The Mystery of Golden

Gulch.
505 Powell‘s Par-d; or, The One-Armed Giant.

BY CAP'l. J. F. C. ADAMS.

34 "Paton Sol; or, Nick W'hiﬂica’s Boy Spy,

46 Glanu- Eye, the Great Shot oi“ the West.

54 Red Hun-I, the Bo ‘ Trapper.

58 Nick Whlmen'l I et; or, il' The Valley of Death.

60 The \V hitc Indian; or, The Scout of the Yellowstone.

70 Did le‘l Cabin: or, The iirecnhorn in the Woods.

81 Lightning Jo. the Terror oi the Prairie.

35 Hui-k Bucky-gm; or, Benn, the Female Tra per.
347 Hid Grizzly and “in Petn: or, The Wil Huntml.
251 Light-house Lice: or, Osceola. the Firebrnnd.

257 The Loni Hunters: or, The Underground Camp.
888 The Scalp King: or. The Human Thunderbolt.

BY ROGER s'rAnnUcK.

25 The Boy Cuptnln: or. The l‘irnto‘a Daughter.
114 The Black Hchooner: or, Jih Junk. the Old Tar.
259 The Golden Hnr oon: or, Lost Among the Flues.
348 FIreJleelr or, 0 d Sklnﬂiut, the Death~Shadow.
854 Big Horn 1 'e. the Hill Tramp; or, The Odd Pardl.
861 The Phantom Light-house.
870 Breaker Ben, the Reef-Runner.

BY HARRY RT. GEDRGE.

80 Roaring Rul h Rockwood, the Ranger.

44 Rnttlln Ru c; or. The Nighthawks of Kentucky.

59 (lid IIIc ory: or. i’nndy Ellis’s Son] .
10" During Davy; or. The Truil of the order “'0”.
165 Hickory Harr ; or, The Tm pcr-lirigade‘l Spy.
172 Thunderbolt ‘om; ur, the 'olf—Herder.

BY .10 Pl ERCE.

897 Bob o’ the Bowcry: or. The Prince of Mulberry Street.
415 The Yulznhontl Dciccthc; or, Bowery Bob’s Boom.
452 Ilotn mr Bolt. tln- Stu-rt-liuy Du-tct'tive.

4050 Thc .uwycr'u Shudow: or, Luke's Legacy.

432 .inunty Joe, the Twin: Horse-King.

494 Hurly ﬁlm. llil' You“: i‘t‘rlylllllil Detective.

504 Flu: Pointi- Phil.

509 JIICI. Jinan-I'll, the Butcher Boy DctcCtivc.

516 'l‘urtur 'l‘lm: or. Fiw l‘ointu Phil's hit-lingerie.

526 North River Nut. thc l’irr Duh-rtlvv.

533 \i'rc-tllng Rex, thc Pridcoi‘thr- Sixth “'urd.

541 Jcif Flicker, the Stnhle Boy Detective.

B" ED‘VARD S. ELLIS.
6 "ill Blddon, Trapper.
” .

Seth Join-n; or, ’l ir Cnptives of the Frontier.
10 Nut Todd: or, The Fate oi the Sioux Cuptive.
21 The Frontier Angel.
98 The Boy Minor-g or, The Enclinntwl island.
182 The Hunch Hunter: on The Strauss Horsemen.
854 The Iiuli'- Blood; or, The Panther of the Plains.
2?] The Huge Hunter; or, The Steam Prairie Man.

BY BUOKHKIN SAM (Major Sam. 8. Hall.)
284 gldkllocky's “Boyce-g” or, Benito, the Young Hone-
l’r‘ .l’

.11 l‘ .
246 Ginnt George; or, The Ang’l of the Range.
275 Arlzonn Jack 3 or, Giant George’s i’urd.
297 Thc Taruntnla oi' Tam-z or. (.‘inntGeorgi-i’s Revenge.
80? The Strange Part]: or. Littlc Ben's DcMh Hunt.
318 Ker-whoop. Kernwhou; or, The Tarantula of Tnos.
827 Creeping Cut. thc (inddo: oi, The Red and White PardI.
332 It‘rlu Fred: or, The Tonkuu n\":‘~ Trust.
844 The Fighting Trio: or. Rattlesnake, the Tonkaway.
849 “iiiii “7011': or, Big-hunt ‘Viillﬂi‘l' lo the Front.
8.”)? The Ranch Rnldcrn: or. The Siege of Fort Purgatory.
884 Snap-Shot, the Boy Ranger.
375 Chlotll, the Creek: or, The Three Thunderbolts.
881 Handel-a Bill: or. Frio Fund. to the Front.
892 Romeo and the Rodin; or, The Belcauuered Ranch.
404 Little Lnrint: of. Peru" Pete’s Blg Rampage.
414 The Dill-y from Denver.
427 The Three Trullcrnz or, ()ld Rocky on the Burma”.
4 12 Bluff Bill: or, The Lynx ol'the Leona.
455 Little Lone Star; or, The Belle of the Clbolo.

BY ALBERT “2 AIKEN.

11 The Two Detectives: or, The Fortunes oi'a Bowery Girl.
78 Abe Poll. thc ("row-Killer.
79 Ho] Ginger, tlii- (iinnt Trapper.
288 Joe Buck of Angel- and His Boy Purd.
447 New York Not. A Tale of Tricks and Traps in Gotham.
453 Sow En land Nick; or, The Fortunes ofa Foundliug.
464 Nllllblc ‘. ick, the Circus Prince.
493 'I‘Ilol Tod. tur Arilonn S tort.
519 Cool Colorado, tho Hall—lined Dctective.
518 Cool Colorado In New York.

HY PHILIP R. WARNE.

0" Patent.l,enther Joe: or, old Rattlesnake. the Charmer.
175 (lapulln Arizona; or. Pntent~imnther Joe‘s Big Game.
198 Captain Mai-it; or, Patent-Lenthnr Joe’s Defeut
219 llcnpurd. the DucIi-tx or. The Mountnin mepii‘el. "
888 A Tou h Boy: or, The Dwnri‘s Revenge.

888 Little ornudo: or. The (lutonﬂtn of the Glen.

873 Litilc Jlnxo; or. the Quecr Piird.

888 Little "ll-Illy ' or, Caught in His Own Trap.

401 Little ﬁhoo-I‘ 1y: or, A Rut-e for K Ranch.

40R Little Lcuthcr-Brccchcnx or. Old Jumho’s Curse.
431 Little Ah Fin: or, The Curse of ltlood.

451 (‘olorudo Rate. A Tale of the nllnes.

41-“) Three Jolly I’m-(In.

5|? Jim Gluddcn‘n Deputy.

527 The Jolly Pnrdu to the Rescue.

BY ED \V A R D WILLETT.

167 Aug Root“ the Stcmnhunt Boy.

199 Feuthcru‘ehrht tlw Bov Champlnn of the Munkingum.
828 ['zuri.’ Alf: or. Frittlu-rtvcixzhi Among the Outlaws.
DRE Tho Typo Detective: “r. Weascl. the Boy Tramp.
.95 Feurlcu Phil; of. The King of Quurtzriile.

311 The Rovimr Sport: or. Thc Pride ni‘('.hur~knlnck Camp.
822 Homo. the Detective: or. Kit Kruyon'a Vendetta.
840 Clip. the Contortlonlet; or, The Montana Vigilantea.

 
BY JAMES L. BOH'EN

107 (Inc-E ed Sim : or, The Abnndoned Forest Home.
110 The B nck Steed oi'the Prairies. A Story of Texas.

BY CAPT. MARK WILTDN.

256 Young Kcntuc '; or, The Rmi Lasso.
270 Blizzard Ben; M, The Riot at Keno Camp.
286 Jonh, the Boy Tenderi'oot.

BY J. “'. 051301“.

469 The Rival Giants oi’Nowhar’.
498 ('uctun Burr. the Man ironi Hard Luck.
537 Old Buckeye, the Sierra Shadow.

BY GEDRGE “'ALDD BROWNE.

36 Dead Rock the Man from Texas.
90 The I rend Rider; or. The Tenn Duelist.
99 The Tiger oi'Tnon: or. Dandy Rock’s Angel.
115 The Mad Miner: or, Dandy Rock’s Doom.
181 The Golden Hand: or. Dnndv Rock to the Rescue.
164 Dandy Rock’s Pied e: or, Hunted to Death.
178 Dandy Rock‘l Riva 3 or, The Haunted Maid of’l‘ue.

BY C. DUNNING CLARK.

185 Captain PuIII' or, The Bo)" Spy ot'the Mountains.
‘80 The Yankee Rajah; or. The Fate of the Black Sherui.

BY CHARLES E. LASALLE.

50 Hurt Bunker, the Trnpper.
52 The “'hite Buﬂulo. A Tale of the Northwest.

[BY CAPTAIN FRED. “’HITTAKER.

15 The Sen-(Hit: or. The Witt‘h ol‘ Dnrien.
29 The Dumb Page; or, The 130ng Daughter.
48 Dick Darling, the Pony Express Rider.
150 Lnnce Illii Lav-no; or. Tho- (‘hildren of the Charo.
154 The Sword Hunter-u; or. The Land oi'thc Elephant Riders.
159 T ilc Lost Captain; or, Skipper Jabcz Coilln's Cruise to tho
1) wii l’olur Scn.
.00 T 9 Boy Bodoulml: or, The Brothers of the Plumed Lance.
214 \Voii'ﬂnng. the Robber of the Rhine.
249 .‘illo Homer. the Animal King, or, The- Round the World
\Vnndcrer.
265 Thc ’l‘iger Tumor: or, The League of the Jungle.
881 Block Nick. th» Demon Rider.
895 California Joe's “'ar Trail.

BY MAJHR E. L. ST. VRAIN.

292 Sancho Pedro, the boy linndit.

801 Lcudvillc Nick, the MM Sport.

8l2 Redtop Rube, the Vigilante Prince.

833 Brilnntonc Bob, uhd His Lightning Horse Quartet“.
852 Tombstone Tom. the Arizona Boy oi “ Sand.”
35” Ilurunwn tune. [in \ mu: IllHii‘ n \’ r...il.-r.
871 Klnxbolt (Thrive. the Young HurdShell Detective.
BNO Aullanchc Ali', theI Foothills Guide.

890 Jaguar Joe, of the Mount .in Mail-Line.

BY J. C. (‘OWDRICIL

360 Silver-Mani“ the Man oi Mystery.
839 Shunt", tln- Gold King: or. For Seven Years Dead.
420 The Dctectivc‘n Apprentice: or, A Buy Without a

. ﬂint".
424 ('Hmtn John: vr. Rcd-i‘iot Times at Ante Bar.
489 Sandy ﬁn)“, the Street Scout.
46? Illuco Dun. ih» Daisy Dude
490 Broadway Billy. thv- Iioothlack Bravo.
506 Redll lit Rul h, the Prile oi the Road.
514 Bron way Bi [3": Boodle.
524 'I'hc Enxlnccr Dctccilvc
586 Broadway Billy‘s ‘ Diiilkllty.”

MlSCl-ILLAN EilCB AUTHORS.

4 The “'ild-Horllc Hunter-n. By Capt. Mayne Reid and
Frcdcrirk “'hittnkcr.
9 Ativcnture-I of Baron Munchnunen.
12 Gulliver’- Truvcln. Hy Dcun .‘wii't.
14 Aladdin: or. The Wonderful Lamp.
16 Robinson Crllwc. (‘1'; illustrations.)
18 Mndhad the Sailor. His Seven Vovages.
22 The Sea Her-pent: or, The Boy Robinson Crusoe. By Juan.

Lcwis.
88 Thc Oct-nu Bloodhound; or, The Red Plrntes oi the
(‘nrrihws \ '. ierre.

33 Th: Boy Cloivn; or, The Queen of the Arena. By Frank
S ‘inn.

8% Ned \Yylde. the Boy Scout. By Texas Jack.
51 {hp Boy Riﬂe-x or, The Underground Camp. By Archie
v. runs.
95 Thc Rival Rovorn; orY The Frechooters of the Mississippi.
v .ir-utvCol. Huzeltine.
98 Robin Hood, the (hitlawed Earl; or,The Merry Men oi Green-
Wooil. Br l’rof. Gilderslccve.
105 (Did Rube, the Hunter; or, TinI Crow Captive.
Huiiiilton iiolincs.
112 The Mad Hunter; or, The Cnv» oi‘ Dmth. By Burton Sale.
1B4 Tippy. the Texan: or, The Young Champion. By George
I V‘FﬁI-n.
128 'l‘hc Young Privateer: or, The Pirate‘s Stronghold. By
li-irry Ctu't‘ilt ish.
14% Sharp Bum: Hr. The Adventures oia Friendien Boy. By J.
Alcxruidcr Patten.
827 Dun-lay Darrell. Trn per: or, The Green Ranger of the Yel-
lowltnnr. By .lwurd uienon.

261 Ecrqu Foal-naught the New York Boy. By GeorgeL.

By Captain

Ai en.

266 Killh’nr. thc Guide; or, Davy Crockett’s Crooked Trail.
By Ensign (‘. D. “'nrrcn.

298 Red Claw. lhr' One-Eyed Trapper; or, The Mnid of the CHI.
By Captain (‘nnistorh

817 Peacock Pete. the Lively Lnd from Lendville. By Lieu—
tenant Alired Thorne.

888 Thc sky lbe‘ectlve; or, A Boy’s Fight for Life nnd Honor.
Ry )inior Mickey Free.

850 Red Ralph. the River Rover; or, The Brother’s R.-
vcuuv. li_\' Neil Bun tline.

885 Bulilmorc Ben thc Boothlnrl. Detective. By A. P. Morris.

874 (Gold-Duet Tom; or, Ben’s Duuhle Match. Bv George H.

. HT”.
876 California Joe’s Flrnt Trail. By Colonel Thoma

liowr \lnnatcry.
418 Billy Bomlmholl. the (‘liﬂ'i'limth By F. S. “'inthrop.
440 Litilc Foxi’oot. the Gold Pinwh- Kid. li)‘ Arthur C. Griaeom.
475 Tim Black Ship. iiv thn S. “'nrner.
484 (‘omunchc Dick and HI- Thrcc Invinciblel. By

llcnrv J. Thouiul.
528 \leurd-A rm. thi- Dnndv Snort. l‘y Arthur I". Holt.

582 The Cowboy Duke. By Edwin iirookc Forrest.
A new issur «mo-y Tuesday.

The Half-Dime Library is for sale by all
Newsdealters? give cents per conv. or sent bv mail,
on receip o s x cents each BEADLE & ADAMS
Publishers, 98 William street, New York.

 
i'l'. ' , l .3. 
. , i

' I BEADLElSaEHALF-

Published Every Tuesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Five Cents. No Double Numbers.

  
\.'. ‘._ ‘_,‘. I «Y‘.~\'

.  .4 . -.A ,’ . ., “~" ~  “bl-V . ’
 ' H" i v .‘ ’ ,l ‘V'Fi‘v‘i'ﬁf’df‘l‘i’iTENT.:-,<7,i  ,

IMEakLIBRARY. I

 
 ~. . near w

 
BY EDWARD L. “'IIEELER.
Deadwood Dick Novel».

1 Deadwood Dlek, the Prince of the Road.
20 Double Daggers Ber, Deadwood Ilick‘s Deﬁance.
28 Bull’an lien; or, eadwomi Dick in Disguise.
B5 “'lld lvan. the Boy Claude Duval.
42 l’huntom “her; or, llenilwoud Dick‘s Bonanza.
49 Omaha 011' or Deadwood Dick in Danger.
5? Deadwood ch "a Eagle-n; or. The Pards oi Flood Bar.
73 Deadwood Dick on Deck: or. lialulnitv June. the Heroine.
7? (‘ordnroy (‘harllcz or. ileaduond Dick'l Last Act.
100 Deadwood Dick in Lcuchillc.
104 Deadwood Dick'a Device: or. The Double Cross Sign.
109 Deadwood Dick an Detective.
129 D‘eadwood Dlek'a Double: or, The Ghoet oi Gorgon's

Gulch.
188 liionde Bill: or. Deadwood Dick’l Home Base.
149 A Game of( old: or. Deadwood Dirk‘l Hig Strike.
156 Deadwood Dlok of Deadwood} or. The Picked Par .
195 Deadwood chk‘a Dream; or, ’ he Rinls orths R0 .
201 The "lack ililla Jezebel; or, Deadwood Dick's Ward.
205 Deadwood Dick’l Doom; or. Cal-mil: Jnne’u Lut Ad-
venture.
21? Captain Crack-Shot, the Girl Brl and.
22] Su .r.Coated Sam; or, The Blue Gown.
282 Go d-Duat Dick. A Romanre of Rough and Toughl.
.65 Deadwood Dick’a Divide or, The Spirit o{5wamp Lon.
.68 Deadwood Dick’a Death rail.
6091(2eadwood Dick’s Big Deal: or, The Geld Briek of
regon.
821 Deadwood chk’a Dozen : or, The Fakir ofPhantom Flau.
“7 Deadwood Dick's Dueato; or, Rainy Day: in the Dig-

mp.
851 Deadwood Dick Sentenced; or, The Terrible Vendetta.
.62 Deadwood Dick’u Claim.
405 Deadwood Dick in Dead City.
410 Deadwood Dick’s Diamonda.
‘2 Deadwood Dick In New 1 ork: or. A "Cute Cue."
48 Deadwood Diek‘a Durst; hr, The Chained llnnd.
448 Deadwood Dick, Jr.
MN Nickel-Plato hodg or, Du-adwood Dick Jr'l Deﬁance.
453 Sunflower Sam, 0! Shasta; or, Deadwood Dick Jr‘l Full

and.
459 1“!th Fall, the Ferret; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Big Round-

QU‘

U .
Q65 gillﬂoml'ly, of Yhenix; or, Deadwood Dick Jr‘l Racket at
am .
471 Bozemln Bill; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Corral.
476 gunbboldt Harry the Hurricane; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’l
og elective.
481 Moll Mystery; or, Deadwood Dirk Jr. in Deadwood.
491 yrlnee Plato], tho King of tho Went; or, Deadwood Dick
r'l Compact.
496 Monte Crioto. Jug: or, Deadwood Dick Jr'l Inheritance.
 Reagwoozll  Inlﬁlnga; or, Dr. Death-Grlp's Swoop.
ea woo c a e. verance.
515 Deadwood Dick’u Protegee.
522 Deadwood chk’o Three.
529 Deadwood Dlek’a Danger Ducks
584 Deadwood Dick’s: Death Hunt.
589 Deadwood Dick Jr. in Texan.
£5514 :Ieat‘iiwoog lli’llcli", Jr. till: ““iilda‘ieat Vldooo.
Ica woo c on I a . e i c.
55 Deadwood Dick, Jr. In Gotham.
561 Deadwood Dick In Bolton.
 Beailwoog  in :n rmludeiphla.
' ct“ woo c r. n 7 cn o.
578 Deadwood Dick’, Jr. Aﬂoat. ‘
5&4 Deadwood Dick, Jr. in Denver.
590 Deadwood Dick. Jr'n. Decree.
 Reagwomll llﬁicll: JJ r. ln(licelzelb|lib'n Rania.
1 ea woo: c' r. at ‘oncy a and.
606 Deadwood Dick Jr‘n Lcadvllle Lay.
6 2 Deadwood Dick Jr. In Detroit.
61" Deadwood Dick, Jr. in Cincinnati.
624 Deadwood Dick, Jr. in Nevada.

.-

0ther Novels by E. L. “'heeler.

’6 Cloven "00', the Buffalo Demon.
82 1101) Woolf; or, The (Girl [lead-Shot.
89 Death-Face, Detective; or, Life. in New York.
45 Did Avalanche; or, \Viid Edna, the Girl Brigmd.
58 Jim lllmlaoe. Jr.. the ilny Phenix.
61 Ducklnorn Bill: or. The Red Riﬂe Team.
69 Gold Rlilc, the Sim shooter: or. The Boy Detective.
80 Rot-child Roh- or, . ugget Ned. the, Knight.
84 1‘13'19 the Girl  ner; or. Roach-id liol) on “and,
88 Photo ra h l’hli: r-r, Rosebud Roh’a ltenppearanco.
92 Clllllll a (‘ let; or. Old Anaconda in Sitting Bull's Camp.
96 1V Inch-Eve: or. Arabs and Angel‘l oi'a Great City.
113 Jack “0) c the Young Snocuintvr.
117 Gilt-Edged Dick, tho- Spwrt i)l'chl.lVO
121 (‘innanlon Chip, the Girl Sport.
125 Bonanza Dill, Miner.
188 linaa lioh the King of iioothlarka.
141 Solid ﬂarn the Boy Road-Agent.
145 (looting-I erret, the New York Detectivo; or, Boa Bob'-
OIS 'l a
16! New York Nell the Roy-Girl Detective.
' Nobb Nick ofﬁevnda: or. The Sierra] Scampl.
181 Wild rank, the Burknkin llrnvo.
209 Fritz, the Bound-Boy Detective.
213 Fritz to the Front; or, The Venirilnquiut Hunter.
226 Snoozer, tlm Buy Sharp: or. The Arab Detective.
236 Apollo “ill, the Trail Torundo.
240 C clone Kit, the Young Gladiator.
241 F erra Slull, ill~ Fronticr Ferrct.
24“ Sierra Hun-Va Secret; or. The ilioodv Footprint;
253 Sierra Snln'n i’uril: or. I‘na Angel ni liig vi"...
253 ﬁicrra Hanl'n ﬂeven: or, The Stolen Bride.
278 Jumbo Joe, the Hot l‘nlrni; or, The Rival lieira.
277 "('llt'fl'1’0". the Dr‘teltlve Queen.
Denver Doll‘s Victory.
2115 Denver Doll‘n Decoy; hr. Little Bill's Bonanza.
291 Turk, the lioy Ferret.
296 Denver Doll’- Drii'l: or. The Road Queen.
299 .\ No. 1. the Dashing Toll-Taker.
305 'I.|za Jane. tl‘r 'iirl \lincr; or. the iton-Nerved Sport.
825 Kelley. lllckev ‘1' (30.. the ih-tw'tivvn of Philadelphia.
1130 Little Quick-“hot: 0?, The Dead Face of Daggenvliio.
88- Kangaroo Kit; or. The Mysterious Miner.
‘89 Kangaroo Klt’ll Racket.
848 Manhattan Mike, the Bowery Blood.
Flr-t-Claaa Fred, lhe Gent trnm Gopher.
868 Yreku Jim. the Gold-Gatherer; or, The Inﬁery oi

Life
872 Yreka Jim's Prlze.
871‘ Nahoh Ned; or, The Secret of Slah City.
892 Cool Kit. the King at Kids; or, A \‘illain’n Vongoonoo.
885 Yreka Jim’s Joker; or. The Rivals of Red No...
8119 Bicycle "on; or. The Lion of Lightning Lode.
894 Yreka Jlm of Yuba Dam.
400 Wrinklca, the Night-Watch Detective.
416 11131: "at Harry. the Blue Ball Detectln.
Ham Slab-idea. the Booger-Boy Detective.
Jim Beak and I’al, Private Domino.
686 Santa Fe Sal, the Slasher.
‘86 Soalokia Sam, the Sparklor.

 
DY CHARLES M0 R RIB.

118 “'ill Romero, the Boy Detective.
122 1'1!“ illll‘d)’, tllu Buns Hwy.
126 I'lcuyune I'cte; or, Nicodemus. the Dog Demtlvg.
130 Detective Dick: or, The Hero iu Rugs.
2 llami-onle Harry, the Bouihliu k Detective,
1‘17 “.111 \Vildilre, the Thoroughhrcd.
152 iiiuck "can. Will \Vllilil71"lili!\('r‘l’.
7 Mike Merry, the llarhur l’nlii‘c lloy.

162 “'ill “'ildiirc, in the “'oodn.
165 Billy Baggage. the Railroad lluy.
D A Trump (Yard: or, \‘Vlil \\'ildiiro “'inn and Log...
4 “0D Rockctt: or, Mysteries 0: New York.
9 Bob Rockctt thc llauk Runner.
. 8 The ﬂldden gland; or, Will \Vildﬁre'a Revenge.

7 Fred llalyard, the Lite Hunt ilm; (.r. The Sniugglen.
1H9 Dob Rockett; or. Driven to the Wall.
196 shadowed; or, Bah liockett‘: Fight for Life.
206 Dark Paul. the Tiger King.
212 Daahing Dave, the Dandy Detective.
220 Tom Tanner; or, The Black Sheep oi the Flock.

25 Hum Charcoal the Premium Darky.
2355 ﬁll-(10W Sam. the Menu-nger Buy.
242 The Two “ lilooda ”; or, Shenandoah Bill and Hi: Gang.
252 Dlok Daahawayx or, A Dakota Boy in (‘hiragm
262 The Young Sharp-x or. Rollicking Mike’s Hot TraiL
274 Jolly Jim. the Detective Ap rentiee.
289 Jolly Jim’a Job; or, The nun Detective.
293 The vater-llound; or, The fall“: Thoroughbred.
305 {Ra-haway, of Dakota; or, A Western Lad in the Quaker

.liV.
524 Ralph Ready, the Hotel Boy Detective.
841 Tony Thorne. the Vagabond Detective.
858 The Reporter-Detective: or. Fred Flyer's Blizurd.
86? W ldc-Awake Joe: or, A Boy of the Tlmes.
879 Lorri. the Leveler; hr. The Blnods of the Boulcvud.
403 Fire y Jack, the River-Rat Detectivo.
423 The Loot Finger; or,’l‘he Entvlpped Cashier.
428 Fred Fiver t a Reporter Detective.
482 Invincible Lo an. the Pinkerton Ferret.
456 Dilly Brick. t e Jolly Vagabond.
466 Wide-Awake Jerry, Detective; or. Entombed Alive.
4‘39 Detective. Dod e: or, The Myntery of Frank Hearty.
48A “'lld chk Rae et.
51“ Boots. the Roy Fireman t or, Too Sharp for tho Sharper.
566 The Secret Pcrvlee Dov Detective.
596 Jimmy the Kid; or. A Lamb Among W017”.

B Y DLL C0011 ES.

5 Vagabond Joe. the Young Wandering Jew.
18 The Dumb ﬂpy.
2T Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide.
81 Keen-knife, the Prime of the l’rairiel.
4| Lat-no Jack, the Young Multangur.
53 The liordcr Kin : or. The Secret Foe.
7i Dcluwarc Dick. t e Young R-nger Spy.
74 IIawk-eve Iiarrv the Young Trapper Ranger.
33 Rollo, the no Ilunger.
184 Sure Shot Seth, th. lioy Riflemnn.
148 Scar-Face Saul. tl-e '<ileut Hunter
14“ Slim-r Star. the lioy Knight.
1515 Eagle Kit. the Boy llt'mon.
166 Little Texan. the Young Mustangs.
17" "id Holitury. the Hermit 'l‘rnppcr.
152 Little Hurricane, thv llo' Captain.
202 l’roa ect Pete; or, The i'ouut: (lulinw Hunters.
20% The, toy Hercule-t or, The Prairie Trumpo.
218 Tiger Tom, the Texas Terror.
221 Dnahin Dick: or. 'I‘rnpper'l‘oni’u ('astle.
22‘1 thtltI \ vlidlire, the l" uug l’iairie Nomad.
28“ The Par-on De tin-(her or, The Little Ranger.
248 The l'iIKIIiIOII (-‘uidc: or, \\ ild Raven, the Ranger.
260 Dare-Devil Dan, the Young l’rairic Ranger.
272 Minkukin Mike. the lim- Shnrpthooter.
290 Little Foxﬁre. ll'lt lh-y Spy.
800 The Sky Demon : or. ltniuholt, the Ranger.
884 \Vth-killﬂ Joe, lllc liov Rnnrhero.
409 Ilercnleu' or. luck, the Boy Ranger.
417 ‘1'1‘51'001. MOIC. the Tramp Detective.
422 "Ith l‘mn. 1hr Hay Giant ol' the Yellowstone.
444 little ilucknkin. the Young l’rnirle Centaur.
457 \\ lngcdi’oot Fred; or, (lid l‘olar Saul.
468 'l‘unmrnc Tom. the Illg Tm per Roy.
478 Did 'l‘oln Rattler, the Red iver Epidemic.
492 Stonewall "oh, the iiny 'l‘roian.
562 Diunderlng Dual], the Hermit iiny Trapper.

BY '1‘. C. “ARBAUGII.
23 Nick 0’ the Night; or, Th" Boy Spy of ’76.
37 The Hidden Lodge: or The Little Hunter.
47 Nightln ale, Nut; or, The Forest (Ya mm...
64 [Dandy . no ' 3 or. The Outlaws of the )rogon Trail.
82 Klt ll'nrei‘out the Wood-Hawk.
94 Midnight Jack: or. The Boy Trapper.
106 Did Fruity, lhc Guide: 0?. Thc White Queen.
128 Kiowa Charley the White Musinnger.
189 .lud e Lynch, Jr.: or. The livv Vigilante.
155 111011 Trigger. 1h.- Spnrt: or. The Girl Avenger.
169 Tornado Torn: or, lnjun Jack From Red Core.
188 Ned Temple. the llnrdrr My.
19" Arkanaaw: or, 1 he (in... n ..l lrnic‘s Revenge.
20? Navajo Nick. the Buy Gold Hunter.
215 (‘nptuln Bullet: or. Little Toukuht‘s Crusade.
231 I'lllcky Phil: or. Ros-n, the Rel chchcl.
241 Bill Bravo: or, The Rough of the Rockies.
255 ('aptaln Apoliv, tnu Kiugi‘iu cl" Bowie.
26? Tile liuckukln Detective.
279 Did “'lnch: or. ’l‘lu- lim-krkin Desperado".
294 Dvnalnlte. Dun: or. This lion-i0 llinile of Cochetopa.
802 The Mountain Detective: or. The Trigger Bur Bully.
816 Did Reilly-e, Trump (‘nnl m’ .\ rilvnn.
826 The Ten l’urdn: i r. The 'l'rrlilr n: Take-Notice.
336 “ix iicnaon; or, The Qurch oi lill' Lawn.
845 I'itlleaa Mutt: or, lied 'l‘hunderholi's Secret.
856 (‘onl hum ulul I’urrl; or The Terrible Six.
86“ Velvet F001. tllc lndiun Detective.
3N6 (‘uplain i‘ntlaan: or, 1 he Bx-l'runcor’n Girl Foe.
896 Rough Rob: or.’l‘he i‘win Clinmpions oi Blue Blues.
411 The Nikon Lam-o: or. The Rose of Ranch Robin.
41" Felix Fox. the iloy Spotter.
425 Texan Tram . lhc iiorder Rattler.
436 Phil Fillllil. t 1? New York Fox.
445 The (‘Ity Yum lrca; or, Red Rolfp'a Pigeon.
461 line A‘nlnat F ﬂy; or, The. Last Man of Keno Bar.
4?0 The Day Shadow: or. Felix Fox’n Hunt.
47’? The Excel-lor Sport: or. The Washington Spotter.
499 ﬁingle ﬂight. the One-Eyed Sport.
502 Branded Den, the Night Ferret.
512 Dodger Dick, the Wharf—Spy Detective.
5 I Dodger Dick'n Heat Dodge.
Fox and Falcon. the Bowery Shadows.
Dodger Dick, tho Dork Ferret.
dodger chk’n Double: or, The Rival Boy Detectivu.
558 'Dodtcr chk‘a Duper-to Case.
568 Dodger Dick. the Bay Vidocq.
578 The Two Shadowa.
562 Dod er Dick’s Drop.
594 tht 9 Lou, the Street-Singer Detective.
010 016 Skinner, the Gold Shark; or, Tony Sharp 01: M

 
BY CDLDNEL PRENTISS INGRAHAM.

7 The Flying Yankee: or, The Ocean Outcast.
17 Ralph "0 ', the Boy lluccnncer; or. The Fugitive Yacht.
2-1» Diamond Dirk ' or. The Mystery of thc Yellowstone,
“2 The Shudin Siting or. The Rival Lit-Ilicmulin.
75 The. Boy Dncllat ; or. The (Iruisc ni'the Sen-Wolf.
102 Dick Dead-Eve, the Boy Sluuggler.
111 Tile Sea-Dev I: or, The Midshipmnn's chm'y.
116 The "till"? (in (“Int or, 'lhe lienuit M Hall Gate.
197 Little G rli: or, snie, lhc Slm'k-Tendvr‘a Daughter.
0-1 Gold i’illlllt‘: or. The Kill-Glove Sport.
216 Bison “III. the Prince oi the Rcinn.
222 Grit. the liravo Hport ; or, The Woman Trailer.
229 Crimson Rate; or. Th» ('owlmy’. Triumph,
28? Lone Star. thv Cowboy Captain.
245 Merle the Mlddy hm. ’l‘he Freelance Heir.
250 The Midnhipman utlneer; or. Brandt, the Buccaneer.
264 The Floating Feather: or, Merle Maine's Trouuro

h and.
269 The Gold Ship: or, Merle, the Condemned.
276 Merle Monte: Cruise; or, The Chase of “The Gold

Sill t."
230 Melrie Montc'a Fate: or, Pearl, the Piratr‘l Bride.
284 The Sea Marauder: or, Merle Monto'l l’icdzc.
287 Billy Blue-Eye!» the Boy Rover of the Rio (.‘rnnde.
804 The Dead Shot Dandy; or. Benito, the Boy Bugler.
608 Keno Kit; or. Dead Shot itandy’l Double.
814  Mynterioua Marauder; or, The Boy Bugler‘s Long
.77 Bonodei, the Roy Rover: or,The Flagleu Schooner.
888 The Indian File“ or, The Search for Pirate island.
58? “'arpath “'lil, the Boy Phantom.
596 Beawaif, the Boy Lieutenant.
402 1mdor, the Yong Conaplrator; or, The Fatal Leena
407 The Boy Inaurgcat; or, The Cuban Vendetta.
412 The “'ild Yacht-man; or, The War-Cloud‘s Cruise.
‘29 Duncan “are. the Boy Refugee.
4-88 A Cabin Boy’a Luck; or, The Comir.
487 The Sea Raider.
441 The Ocean Fireﬂy; or. A Middy’s Vengeance.
446 llaphaznrd Harry; or, The Scapegrnce of the Sea.
450 “'lzard \Vill: or. The Boy Ferret of New York.
454 “'lzard “'lll’u Street Scouts.
462 The Born Guide: or. The Sailor Boy Wanderer.
468 Neptune Ned. the Boy Coaster.
474 Flor-g or, Wizard Will’s Vagahond Ford.
483 Fen-eta Aﬂoat; or. “'inrd Will’s Last Can.
48? Nevada Ned, the Revolver Ranger.
495 Arizona Joe the Boy Pard ofTexas Jack.
497 Back Taylor, King oi the Cowboys.
503 The Royal Middy; or, The Shark Ind the S“ Cat
507 The Hunted Mid-hipman.
511 The Outlawed Middy.
520 Duckakln “ill, the (‘omanche Shadow.
525 Rrotheru in Duckakln.
580 The Buckukin Dower!»
585 The linctakln Rovers.
540 Captain KII—Klux, the Marauder oi the Rio.
545 Lieutenant Leo. the Son of Laﬁtte.
550 Lnllttc’a Legacy: or. The Avenging Son.
555 The Creole (for—air.
560 l’nwnee Bill, the Prairie Shadower.
565 Kent Klng‘don, the Card King.
570 Camille. the Card Queen.
575 The l-‘urgeon-Scout Detective.
580 The Outcast Cadet; or, The False Detectivo.
586 The Buckskin Avenger.
591 llelmonte. the Young Si‘ﬂ-ROVGI’.
597 The Young Texan Detective.
602 The Vagabond of the Mines.
607 The Rover Detective: or. Keno Kit's Champions.
617 Rulgh, the Dead-Shot Scout; or, The Raiders and tha
Red ldcrs of the Rio.

BY BUFFALO BILL (lion. “'m. F. Cody).

8 Knnlal King; or, The Red Right Hand.
19 The Phantom lipy: nr,The Pilot of the Prairie.
55 Deadly-Eye, the Unknown Scout.
68 Border Robin ﬂood: or, The Prairie Rover.
158 Fancy Frank of Colorado: or, The Trapper’n Tum,

LATEST AND NEW ISSUES.

626 The Champion l’ards; or, The Lucifer ofSiiver Bur. By
T. ('. llurlmugh.

627 Tom Bruce of Arkanaan; or, The Wolfln the Fold. By
Charles Morris.

628 Broadway Dilly'n Dead Act; or, The League of the
Sworn Seven. By J. C. (lnwurick.

629 Violet Vane. the Velvet Sport; or, The Jubilee ofJnchtown.
liy Win. (9. Patten.

680 Dead Wood Dick. Jr. in No Man’n Land; or, Golconda,
the Gladiator. liy Ed. L. \‘l'heelrr.

681 Tom (‘at‘a Terrible Tank; 0f.ThP Cowhny Driective's
Own Cnac. By Licut. A. K. Sims. Ready August ‘27.

682 The Dead Detectivc’g Double. By Gerald Carltv-n.
Randy September 3.

688 Pluck Paul the Boy Pros eclor'. or The Deadwood Den-
pcrado'ayLast innings. By J. . Olbon , Ready Septcmbcr 10.

684 Cache Carl, the Chico Giant; or. The True Heart. oi Red‘
E“. RM”, By Buck-kin Sam. Ready September 17.

Didahoma Ill the Blue Coat Scout; or, The Boomen Lute
685 Battle. By P. S.’Warne. Ready September 94.

A New Tune Every Tuesday.
The llalf- Dime Library in for Ilia by all aewodoalm, in
“no pa copy. or sent by mall on receipt of nix «at: each.
BEADLE AND ADAMS, Paul-hora,
28 William Street New York.