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» League of the Sworn Seven.
’  BY J. CEO—VVDRICK, ‘

' Hon OF THE “BROADWAY BILLY ” STORIES,
1' CIBUTA JOHN,” “REDLIGHT RALPH,”
‘ ‘f TWILIGHT CHARLIE.” “ FIGHTING
HARRY,” "OLD RIDDLES,”
r.ch ETC., ETC.

CHAPTER I.
BILLY’S EXIT IN A SACK.

pertaters!” .

min boy’s exclamatlpn-n. solidly built
Icon of eye. strong of llmb, and of goodly

- f He appeared to be about seven?
years of age. He had on no but, and

coathniguezt. His hands were securely ~ - ‘ - » -- -  > -

. u c . BILLY WAS PUT INTO A SACK AND 1330?an OVER THE sum or um BOAT mm THE

‘ 99mm!!!” be repeated: 83 a blind . \ COLD, DARK WATERS or THE BI?!

   

 

.q-%

32

Broadway Billy’s Dead Act.

  

 

 

 

door closed behind his back, leaving him stand-
ing alone in a very queer place—seemingly a
kind of Eden Musee Chamber of Horrors, ap—
parently arranged with special reference to
terrorizing everybody who ventured, or was
thrust, into the uncanny room.

It was, as the boy was pushed in. aglow with
‘a red glare, which came from a grim chandelier
overhead, whose globes were seven skulls. By
this light he found himself confronted with a
heap of bones on the floor beneath the chande-
lier—evidently the skeletons of the victims
whose skulls radiated the red light.

Around this heap seven swords were standing
upright, their points in the floor. Behind each
of the swords was a stool, covered with a square
of black cloth, the four corners of which just;
touched the floor.

The prisoner, for such he evidently was, it is
needless to say. was our whilom street friend,
Broadway Billy—the irrepressible Billy, and
now, to all appearances, in a desperate situa-
tion.

“ Sweet pertaters an’ goose-grease!” he ejacu-
lated, with additional eniphams, as he had
looked carefully around, “ but this beats th’
Dutch, this does! This is what I would call a
surprise—party fer one! Golly! but I’d like ter
have Skinny here! Bet a hair-pin he’d be skart
until his bones rattled in his breeehes."

Billy had been “ skart” enough himself, at
the first shock, but now that was passing away,
and his natural coolness stood him in good use.
He was gritty and brave, and had faced so
many dangers, that he had become in a measure
hardened to them.

“ If I only had th’ use o‘ my hands,” he chat-
tered, “I would be a little more at liberty nor
what I am as it is. It was very thoughtless o’
my friends ter turn me loose in this den with
my hands tied; an’ there ain’t much of a ‘ turn
loose’ about that, anyhow. Wonder what they
mean ter do with me! They got th’ bulge on
me this deal, an’ no error about that. Mostly
my own fault too. Wonder if I ever will have
any brain in my head, where th’ mush an’ milk
now slops around in place 0’ brain? There is
nothin’ more useful to a feller than brain, an’ I

uess I wasn’t around when that was dealt out.

f I’d had any, mebby I wouldn‘t be in this fix.
But, here I be, an’ there’s no use niournin’ over
that fack. What I want ter do now is ter try
an’ git out ag’in. How in th’ name 0’ wonder
did I git in?”

Unable to give himself any satisfactory an-
swer, Billy sat down upon one of the seven stools
and was silent for a time.

“ Skinny has often told me,” he presently
broke out a ain, “that I would keep on until I
got myself into a difl‘ikilty that I wouldn’t git
out of, an’ it looks as if I’m inter it now. Th’
way out 0’ here isn’t by any means plain ter be
seen, that is sartain. If it wasn’t fer th’ smilin’
faces up there above me,” with a glance u at
the hideous chandelier, “I reall believe I’ be
lonesome. I wish Skinny coul take a peep at
me just about now; I’d like ter hear what he’d
remark. But there is one teller that I wouldn’t
care ter have see me in sich a fix, for it might
lower me in his estermation. an’ that is Ins c-
tor Br— SWeet pertaters! what is u now

With that exclamation his meditations ended.

Of a sudden the li hts in the skulls bad shrunk
to a mere glow, an the room for the moment
was plunged into almost perfect darkness.

At the same time a noise was heard, as
though of many feet hurriedly entering the
room, and in a moment more the lights were
turned up again to their full, and the apartment
was as brightly illumined as before.

But a change had taken place. Seven persons
besides the boy were there assembled.

These were seven men, clad from head to feet
in flowing robes. The robes Were perha
white, but under the red light they took on t 8
general color of the room.

Fora moment the men stood Silent and looked
at Billy. and then advanced toward him, while
Billy. at the same moment, rose to face them.

“ Broadway Billy—”

“ Present,” responded Billy, promptly, cutting
short whatever the man was going to say.

“ I am not calling the roll,” observed the man,
“ so you need not be so prompt with your inter-
ruption.”

“ Beg pardon,” said Billy, “ but you spoke my
name, an’ when anybody mentions my name in
my hearin’ I’m goin’ ter chip in an’ have my
say.

" Then you own that you are Broadway Billy,
do you?”

“ Bet er life I do.
th’ foun ation.”

“Good! We were sure of you, however, so

This is me, clear down to

 

your admission does not go for much. We know
you well, my boy."

“ That is th’ reason that I don’t'try ter deny
my ’dentity.”

While these words were being exchanged the
seven men advanced to the stools, and each had
taken in hand one of the swords.

The man who had been doing the talking was
evidently the chief of the band, or at any rate
their spokesman. He soon proved that he was
their leader.

“ Be seated,” he ordered, waving his sword,
“ and) this case shall be presented for consxdera-
tion.

The other six sat down.

The chief then, with the point of his sword,
disturbed some of the bones directly under the
light, and a square block was disclosed to
VlLlVVo

“ Boy take your stand upon that block,” he
then or( ered.

“ Is it warranted safe an’ sound, an’ not liable
to blow up nor go down, nor nothin’ 0’ that—”

A prod with the sword caused Billy to cut
short his questions and obey the order in a
hurry.

“ Sweet pertaters!” he exclaimed, “you hadn’t
orter do that; don‘t you know that thing is
sharp? An’ you hit me in a tender place, too.
You orter be more careful.”

“ And you want to learn to hold your tongue
and obey orders without questioning. Do you
know into whose hands you have fallen?"

“Can’t say that I do, unless it is into th’
hands of the Philistines,” was the response.

" You will find that you have fallen into even
worse hands," the chief declared. “ You are in
the ower of the Sworn Seven.”

“ on don’t say sol”

“ Boy, it is no time for you to jest—”

“ Jest so, sir. That is what I was thinkin’,
an’ so I’ll make it a p’int not ter do it."

“ Will you hold your tongue?”

“ I’ll try hard, if it will oblige ye.”

“ It will oblige us, and it will he better for
you. Now pay attention to what I have to
say.”

“ I’m all ears, as th’ jack— But, I was goin’
ter hold my tongue. I almost forgot about
that.”

If Billy felt any alarm at his critical position,
he did not allow them to see it. He seemed as un-
concerned as if out upon the street. instead of
in the power of these Seven Sons of Satan.

“ Enough of this,” snapped the chief sharply;
“listen to me. We are seven men who have
sworn to rid this city of some of its detectives,
and you are one whose name we have on our
black—list.”

“ Whewl” whistled Billy. “ Is that so?”

The chief raised his sword in a threatening
manner.

“ You are one,” he repeated, “ but, owing to
your youth, we are willing to give on one
chance for your life. You may ta 9 your
choice of two evils. One is, certain death; and
the other, to have our eyes But out and your
tongue out out. ow, whic do you prefer?
You are at liberty to talk.”
 was a desperate situation for Broadway

1 y.

 

CHAPTER II.
BROADWAY BILLY’s noon.

“ KIN 1 orate, now ‘1” Billy naively asked.

“ You are at liberty to say what you please,”
the chief assured.

“ Thank you! There is nothin’ that I enjoy
so much as the liberty o‘ s eech. I don’t know
what I would do if I cou dn't talk at all. It
would be awful, and no error about that. You
see they got a tongue 0’ th’ female gender inter
my head by mistake, an’ I can’t keep it still ter
save me. It will go, an’ there‘s no stoppin’ it,
onless ye tie up my talker.”

“ I have suggested a remedy for it,” the chief
interrupted.

:“ Ter c’ut it out?”

“ Couldn’t think 0’ sich a thing. Why. in my
case th’ remedy would be a heap wuss than th’
disease. Ye. see I have got so used ter talkin’
that I ruther enjoy it. Oh, no, not any of that,
if you please. An’ as fer havin’ my eyes put
out too, that is altogether out 0’ th’ question.
N o. sir-eel”

“ Then you prefer certain death?”

“ Every time.”

“ Then that is settled. You have had your
choice.”

 

“ You See,” the plucky bov rattled on, “life
wouldn't be worth th’ livin’, if I had neither

 

‘—

eyes ner tongue, so I’d ruther shuffle off th’ coil
right ter once, an’ have it over with.”

“ Let me remind you,” the chief of the Seven
warned, “ that you need not hope for a. chance
to effect your escape. You are well known to
us, and we know that on have as many lives as
a cat, apparently. e intend to make sure of
death this time, as you have chosen death.”

“ That is all right,” responded Billy, “ don’t
let your minds be. troubled about me. If on
mean biz, an’ I reckon you do, all that I as is
that you will give me a decent send—off; no tor-
ture about it, on know.”

“ So it sha 1 be. In fact, I think we can
let you choose the manner of your death.”

“ That will be decent of you.”

“ What say ye, members of the Sworn Seven?”
the chief inquired of the others; “ shall we give
him the choice?”

“Yes,” they answered; “it can make little
difference to us.”

“ You hear the decision, boy.”

“ You bet.” returned the gamin; “ and I
thank you. I hope you won’t go back on yer
word, now.”

“ No fear of that' you have our promise.”

“ That’s good. l‘low you want me to name
th’ manner of my takin’ off, I should say.”

“ Exactly.”

“An’ it must be a way that will beasure
death to yours truly.”

“ Of course; that is understood.”

“ Very well, you kin turn me out an’ let me
die of old age. That is about as sure a way as I
kin. think 0 ', off hand.” I

The seven rascals had to laugh.

“ That will not do,” declared the chief. “This
is no time for nonsense, and you know well
enou b What we mean.”

“ est what I expected,” Cried Billy, indig-
nantly. “You haven‘t kept yer word with me
at all. You left th’ choice ter me, an’ then when
I’d made it you won‘t agree ter it. How is a
feller ter know how ter take ye?”

“ Well, but it must be death, prompt and im-
mediate.”

“That is what that is, when it overtakes a
feller, ain’t it? Seems ter me you are mighty
hard ter suit.”

“ Boy, let us have no more fooling. Make
your choice, and whatever it is, it shall be ac-
cepted, barring your first choice.”

“ You mean that?"

I“ Yes.”

“ All right, you kin take me over an’ drown
me in th’ Red Sea.”

“ Bosh l—to the Red Sea part of it, anyhow;
but if you prefer to be drowned, we will dispose
of you that way. What do you say? We will
parley no longer.”

“ Drown it is, then. But, you are a purty set
0’ galoots, you be! Ye ain’t men 0’ yer word at
all. You ave me a choice that wasn’t no good
after all. %ut, go on with th’ funeral; I kin
stand it if th’ rest of th’ fambly kin. Let me tell
ye that ye want ter make a sure job of it,
though, for if ye don’t, I Will make it hot fer

”

“ My lad,” the chief remarked, “ you are as
brave as a lion, and it is really too ad that you
haven’t led a different life. We would be proud
to make use of you in our line of business, if we
didn’t know you so well. But, there is no use
talking about that.”

“ Right you are,” agreed Billy, “ so ya needn’t
make no offers ter me.”

“ Do not expect any: we know you too well.
But, as I war about to say, you .are nervy, and
would be a credit to our professxon. You would
grow up to be one of the best leaders ever
kn0wn. It is too bad that you are nothing bet—
ter than a contemptible police Spy.”

“We hold different opinions on that p’int,”
Billy observed. .

“ That is the truth, and it is for that reason
that your doom is sealed. It would never do
for us to allow Broadway Billy, the boy detect—
ive, to become a detective full grown. You
would be a terror, or I miss my guess. Why,
you are a professional already.”

“ Don’t,” protested Billy, “ please don’t. You
will make me vain, I am afraid. I can’t stand
flattery. an’ never could. But, it strikes me
that it don’t speak very well for my cuteness,
ter see me in our power, an’ ter think how
easily I walked inter th’ trap.”

“The trap we laid for you, my boy, might
have fooled an older, hand than you. It was
well planned, and well carried out.”

This was true. Billy had been cleverly duped;
but, the particulars of that have little to do with
our story. We have to deal with the results.

“As for flattery,” the chief continued. “ you

can stand that, seeing that your time on earth . "

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

Broadway Billv’s Dead Act.

 

 

     

is to be short. It is likely to be the last that
you will ever hear. I do not know how it will
be with you on the other side, however.”

“It will be a heap better with me than it
Will with you,” was the boy’s retort, “an’ you
kin bet high on that.”

“ We Will not discuss that point. I was com-
plimenting you on your nerve. You have
plenty of it. Why, we have had men in this
room who have qiiaked with fear at the very
sight of the Sklllls and bones, but you have not
minded them at all. What are you made of,
anyhow?”

“ What he I made of? Now you hit me hard.
I am built of iron, steel, and Injy rubber. I
am like a eat, too, in one respect: I have nine
lives. What is more, I haven’t lost one of ’em
yet. Th’ only thing that I really lack is brain.
If I had a little 0’ that I should be happy.”

“ You will not have long to mourn over your
deficiency. In a few hours you will be lying
still and cold at the bottom of New York Bay.
“We cannot oblige you by taking you to the Red
Sea, as you desired, but we will do the next best
thing we can. You shall be drowned in the
most approved style.”

“ Thanks,” said Billy. “ When a feller can’t
get just what he wants he should be thankful
ter git what he kin. Your kindness shall never
be forgotten.” .

“ No need to say anything more about it. In
a few hours we Will come for you, and then you
will take your last ride. In the mean time you
can ,r’emain here and enjoy yourself as best you
can.

Billy step ed down to the floor and the men
prepared to eave the room.

“ Hadn’t we better make his hands a little
more secure?" one inquired.

“ Perhaps we had,” agreed the chief; “ bring
a little wire.”

One of the Seven roduced some wire. This
was twisted around illy’s arms in addition to
the string that already held them. There was
little chance for him to get his hands free.

“ There, now I guess we can trust you,” the
chief remarked, “ and we will take our leave.
In about two hours it will be midnight, and then
you may look for our return. Be prepared to
meet your doom.”

At that instant the lights went out, and the
room was plunged in total darkness. Billy
heard a hurried movement of feet, then a click-
ing of the closing door, and he was left alone
there in the dark.

He felt around until he found one of the
stools, and sat down, to reflections not pleasant.

“ Sweet pertaters!” his thoughts ran, “ but I
am in a mess o’ pickle this time fer sure. Th’
chances is that this will be in last adrenture.
Skinny Will haVe a chance ter grape tli’ stand in
mournin’ an’ wear a big band on his hat. It
seems that I ain’t goin’ to: git no chance ter es-
ca , and’ I’ll have ter face th’ music, whatever
it is. Better death than th’ other, though, an’
there ain’t no doubt in my mind but the meant
real old business. None 0’ that for illiam 0’
Broadway. If it is ter be death, I’lhgo down
with my eyes an’ tongue. No use trym’ ter git
my hands loose, fer they have done me up fer
keeps. I kin only set dewu an’ await my doom,
jest as that feller said. It is hard ter be taken
off in my youth an’ bs-auty, but it is purty sar-
tain that I would have ter go sooner or later,
anyhow, so I don’t know as it makes much dif-
ference. I’d like ter say good-by ter mom an’
Skinny, though.”

Billy’s thoughts were sad enough. but he did
not remain long idle. He went around and
around the room, trying in vain to find the door,
hoping that by some means or other he might
get out. Nor was his brain idle. He was try-
ing hard to concoct a plan for escape but no
feasible method of escape could he conceive, and
the two hours passed away.

Suddenly the light flashed forth from the
skulls once more, and the men were in the room.
Billy had not heard a sound. They were clad in
the same red-hued gowns as before, and had
their swords in bad.

“ We have come for you,” answered the chief,
“ and there is now no time for talk. Men, take
him and bind him.” .

Two of the men dropped their swords and laid
hold of the unhappy boy, and in a very short
time they had him bound securely. A gag was
in his mouth, and a bandage was over his e es.

This done, they lifted him up and carried im
from the apartment. .

Along a dimly lighted hall they bore him,
then down a flight of stairs, and there at the
bottom of the steps was a boat into which they
laid him.

All the men get into the boat, having discard-

 

 

 

ed their gowns, and for some time Billy heard
them making their way out,of some underground
canal to the open I‘lVi‘l'.

It took quite a while to reach the river, but at
last the boat came out into the cold night air,
and for half an hour or longer four of the men
pulled steadily at the oars. When they stopped,
Billy was put into a big sack, the sack was tied
up, a heavy weight was anchored to hie feet,
and he was dropped silently over the side of the
boat into the cold, dark waters of the bayl

CHAPTER III.
“SACRED TO THE MEMORY."

“ WHAT! Broadway Billy dead!”

That exclamation was uttered b Detective
SpearP. He had been out of town, ad just re-
turned, and this news was a great shock t'_\ him.

And it had come upon him with the sudden-
ness of a thunderbolt out of a clear sky—to be
ori inal.

anting to see Billy, he had sauntcred up
Broadway as far as the boys’ corner-stand. Ar-
riving there, what was his surprise to find it
closed, and not only closed but heavily draped
in mourning.

Immediately he knew that one of the partners
was dead, and thought it must be Skinny.
Glancing around to see some one of whom to iii-
quire, howeVer, he saw that meager individual
coining toward him, and his Worst fears were
confirmed.

Skinny was clad in the deepest black had a
heavy hand of mourning on his hat, and a bow
of crape was tied around his left arm

“ Skinny, who is dead 4” the detective demand-
ed, as soon as the boy came near enough to be
addressed.

“ Billy is dead,” was the doleful reply.

Then came the exclamation with which this
chapter opens.

“ Yes; poor Billy is dead,” Skinny repeated.

“ When did he die; and what was the cause!”
the detective impatiently questioned.

“ We don’t know just when he was killed—”

“ Killed l”

“Drowned, sir.”

“ Then the brave fellow met with foul play at
last, did he? But he shall be avenged, as surely
as I can do it. Go on and tell me all about it."

“ You see he has been missni’ about two weeks,
an’ yesterday his body was found floatin’ in th’
river.”

“ Too bad, too bad. But are you sure there is
no mistake in the identity?”

“ I guess it is him, sure enough. His mom
says it is, an’ I think so, too. She knows him
mostly by a scar on one arm. Can’t 0 much
on th’ looks, fer th’ body is all bloater up, an’
th’ flph or somethin’ has disfigured it a good

7

“ Poor Billyl so brave, noble, and true; he
was deserving of better things. I had reat
h0pes in his future. It is a sad thing. 8 the
bodv at his home 1”

“Yes; an’ th’ funeral is tor take place this af-
ternoon.”

“ I will go there at oncel”

“ I Will 0 with ye, jest as soon as I see if
everything is all right around here.”

Scliiinny examined the locks, and soon was
rea y.

“ Have the lice taken the case in hand?”
Speare in air , as they walked along.

“ Yes, t ey are tryin ter find out somethin’
about it.” '

“And they have questioned you, to get hold
of‘i‘i.§lew?”h h

68. t ey ave pnm me d ,” Skinn
declared, “ but I am afraigetiiiat I did not be];
them much. .You see, I didn’t know where
Billy was IZOm’. He started off one evenin’,
sayin’ that he would be back in about an hour,
an’ that was th’ last that was seen of him alive.”

“ How long had he been missing before you
re orted the case?”

‘Two days. You see, he was in th’ habit 0’
goin’ off like that, an: we expected that he
would show up at any time.”

“ And next day you told the police.”

“ Yes. Billy had some ’portant biz ter attend
to that mornin’, an’ when he wasn’t on hand we
thought somethin’ must be wrong, fer sure.
Billy was purty prompt in biz, you know."

“ Could his mother throw any light on the
mystery?” I

“ Not a bit. She was Jest as much in th’ dark
as I was.”

“Billy was a little reckless. He has been a
marked boy for some time, as I have told him
more than once, and he should have told you
where he was going whenever he went away.”

“ That was what he ’most allus did,” informed
Skinny, “when he thought he was goin’ inter

 

any danger, but he didn’t, this time, an’ fer that
reason I think he didn’t expect ter poke his nose
where he hadn’t ortei‘.”

“ He should have been on the safe side at all
times.”

“ If he had listened ter me,” Skinny avcrred,
“ he would be all safe and sound at this ininnit.
Many and many a time 1 have warned him that
sooner er later he would come tH' grief, but he
wouldn’t listen for me. lie was allus bound tel‘
run inter some place where he had no biz ter g0,
an’ this time he got done up. It is too had, an
I am mighty sorry; but it was his own fault.”

Great tears came from the boy’s eyes as he
was talking, and rolled down his face, causing
him to brush them away with his sleeves.

They talked on, the detective doing his best to
draw out some point upon which to build up a
clew, but failing utterly to do so; and in due
time they came to the home of the lamented
Billy.

The crying of Mrs. Weston could be heard as
soon as they entered the hall and when they eu-
tered the apartment where the body lay, it- was
sad indeed to witneSs the mother’s grief.

Skiniiy‘s mother was there, and she was weep—
ing, too, and it did not take long for Skinny
himself to join in with them.

One or two other neighbors were also present.

lletectiVo Speare knew Mis. \Veston, and
tried to console her, but it was an impossible
undertaking.

When she had become a little calm, ho ques-
tioned her, but failed to get anything of value.
She was only too positive in her identification
of the body, and nothing he could say could
arouse a doubt in her mind. ‘

“ Do you suppose that I would not know my
own boy ’9” she demanded; and on that she rtood
firmly.

When Speare came to look at the. body, he
took plenty of time to do it. He lind known
Billy for a long time, and wanted to settle this
important question to his own satisfaction, if he
could.

As Skinny had said, the body was very much
mutilated, so as to render recognition diflicult.

The detective studied the dead form long and
earnestly. It was certainly of Billy’s height,
and, as near as he could tell, the proportions
had been his. The color of the hair was the
same. There was certainly reason to suppose
that this was the body of the missing boy, and,
taking all the facts of the case into Consider—
ation, especially the positive assertion of the be-
reaVed mother, he decided that it was indeed
the brave and noble Billy.

One thing perhaps nnre than all else led the
detective to this conclusion, and that was some-
thing that, in his mind, amounted to almost
proof positive. He knew that Billy had had
scars on his wrists, caused by burns that he
had received by holding his hands over a lighted
candle, on one occasion, to burn off cords with
which they were bound. One of the hands of
the body before him was in good condition and
on the wrist was a scar similar to the ones Billy
had carried. This, with Mrs. Weston’s recog-
nition of the scar on the arm further up, seemed
conclusive; Broadway Billy was dead!

Finding that all had been done that could be
done the detective went to Headquarters.

“ poem, I am glad to see you ” was the
greeting he got from the chief. ‘ I have bad
news for you, however ” he added.

“ You refer to poor Broadway Billy?"

“ You have heard about it, then.”

“ Yes, and I have been to see the body.”

“Hal that is good. I was anxious for your
return, so that we could have your opinion re-
garding the identity. Bill was well knownto
you. What do you say? 9 the body his?”

“ I have decided that it is.”

“ So we all agree. It is a sad thing. for I had
big hopes in the future of that boy. He was a.
detective bred and born. He has done work
that none of you might be ashamed of.”

“ You are right. It is truly a sad event. In
there an clew to the case? Is there any hope
of bringing the murderers to account?”

“ S are, it is a mystery profound. That boy
left his partner at their stand one evening, say-
ing that he would be back in about an hour, and
never returned. The next that was known of
him was when his body was found floating in
the river. Now the first great question tobo
settled is, where did he set out to go to on that
evening? If we can only learn that, we may
get a start toward learning the truth of the
matter,” .

“ It is a difficult case. But, we Will tackle it
-—at any rate I will. Sooner or later some of
the crooks of the town will let out something
about it, and then we can go for them. It may

I ,' Bhé’ra-z’i-‘o i. :1.

 
    
 
   
  
 
 
 
   
  
  
   
   
   
  
   
  
 
     
  
   
   
    
   
  
   
  
   
   
    
  
 
 
   
   
  
 
    
  
   
  
 
 
   
   
   
   
    
    
  
 
 
   
 

  
   
   
   
  
 
 
   

    

  

4

take a long time, but we will get there. I have
sworn that he shall be avenged, and I will keep
my vow i”

“ Good for you! That is just what I expected
of you. You will attend the funeral?”

“ Most assuredly.”

“ Kee your eyes open and see who is
around.’

“ Trust me for that.”

“ I know that I can do so.
hand for the same purpose.”

That afternoon the funeral took place. It was
largely attended, especially by detectives and
others who had known Billy well. It was a
funeral that made Skinny, the lean partner, feel
proud. Sad as the occasion was, he could not

elp glorying in the fact that Billy was having
“just a boss send-off.”

At the same time the grief of the thin partner
was genuine and intense, and he wept continu-
ously. It need not be said that the same was
the case with the mother. Skinny’s mother was
with her, but no words could comfort her.

The carriages of several rich families were in
attendance, containing persons for whom Billy
had rendered service that could never be repaid
in full. No need to name them all.

The detectives who were present had an eye
open in every direction, and made mental note
of every known face they saw. This was their
best—their only chance, and they must make the
most of it.

A splendid resting-place had been selected for
the much-loved Bi ly, and he was laid away
with all the respect that could have been shown
a grater person.

I 0 need to dwell longer upon the and occasion.
A few days later a handsome stone marked the
spot, upon which were these words:

Others will be on

“ Erected in memory of
WILLIAM WESTON (Broadway Billy),
One of the best, truest, bravest, most generous and
most promising boys of New York City;
by his friends, as a mark of their
sincere regard."

 

CHAPTER IV.
“nicnu’s A STATE or THINGS.”

SEVEN men were seated in a room that was
looked and barred.

But they were not prisoners. The locks and
bars were on the inside, and the men Were there
of choice.

It was not a large room, but it was well fur-
nished and appointed, and had the appearance
of a club-room on a small scale. The men were
seated around a. table on which were wines, open
boxes of cigars, and cards. They were playing,
smoking and talking, and evidently enjoying the
fleeting hour.

But why the bolts and bars?

Let us ive the men a little closer attention.

One, w 0 had the air of command about him,
was a man about forty Fears of age, of power-
ful build, wearing a ful beard. He was rather
good-looking than otherwise, and was well and
tastefully dressed. He was an easy and fluent
talker, educated, and from his manner was
clearly used to good society.

The others were less favored in the respects
named. Their ages ranged from twenty-five to
forty-five, and most of them were hard-featured.
That is to say, the unmistakable stamp of the
criminal was upon them. This was more
prominent with the older ones than with the
younger.

A game at cards had just been ended, and the
individual first described was leaning back in
his chair, and laughing heartily as he lighted a.
fresh cigar.

“That is the third time I have won,” he re-
marked. “ What is the trouble with the rest of
you? You do not seem to ‘get there’ at all to-
night. Ha. ha, ha!”

“ We will get there, though, Captain Iron-

ip,” returned one of the others in rather a

issatisfled tone, “aii’ don’t ye forgit it. We’ll
see how it will go the next round.”

“It is no use, Crackers,” the first 8 aker.
still laughing, rejoined; “ this is my nig t, and
there is no use bucking against me. I guess
we’d better stop. I do not want to win from
you, anybo w.”

It was a peculiar name, “ Crackers,” but so
the name was called. He was never found
Without crackers in his kets, and was always

munching upon them. iscom nionsdeclared
that he never ate anything ese. Hence his
nickname.

“ We won’t have it that way,” Crackers stout-

“, .-...,. a...» e

 

Broadway Billy’s Dead Act.

1y declared; “ we want satisfaction out 0’ you,
captain, aii’ we’re bound ter have it.”

“ Well. if Vou are determined, we will proceed,
but it will be sure loss to you, I feel it in my
bones.”

“ We’ll take our chances on that.
out. Mousey.”

This was the nickname of another of the
band. Mousey Was a young man of say twenty-
five. He looked older, and his face was thin
and wan, the result of his career of late hours,
drinking, and the rest of the round of dissipa-
tion. He was called by that pretty name on ac-
count of his deftness at pocket-picking. Not
that mice are at all expert in that line, but they
are generally conceded to be crafty and cunning
in their depredations.

Mousey took the cards and began to shuffle
them, preparatory for another battle with the
magic pasteboards, as they are sometimes celled.

“ We will have just this one game more,” fur-
ther observed Captain Iron-gri , “and then we
will come to a little business t at we have on
hand. Some of you know what I mean. Let
them run, Mousey.”

“ All right,” agreed another of the players,
who was known as “ Short-legs, “let it be jest
as you say, captain; you are the boss.”

The game progressed, but the talking did not
cease.

“ By the way,” Captain Iron-grip presently
observed, “ I have bad the pleasure of attending
a funeral since I have seen any of you.”

“ That is a new way ter have leasure, I
must say,” one of the Seven laug ingly re-
marked.

“ I have an idee that I was at th’ same fune—
ral,” put in Short-legs.

“ That so?” from the captain.

‘6 Yes.” ,

“ Well, whose was it? I did not see you
there.”

“ You mebby seen me, but you didn’t know
me. You don’t s’pose that I’d went there with-
out a disguise do you? No, sir. Why, them
long-noses would ‘a’ spotted me in no time.”

“ But what funeral are you talking about!”
the ca tain persisted.

“ by, th’ funeral 0’ that little terror, Broad-
wa Billy.

‘ What, has he been found?” some of the
others exclaimed.

“ Yes, the body has turned up,” informed the
captain, “ and that is the funeral to which I re-
ferred.”

“ I thought so,” chuckled Short-legs.

“ Why didn’t ye tell us about it?” demanded
the others.

“ Why don’t ye read th’ papers?” was the
counter—question.

“ I didn’t think that chunk o’meat would ever
come up,” another remarked.

“ No, ner me,” agreed the sullen Crackers,
“ fer it was about th’ surest work 0’ th’ kind
that I ever had a hand in. That weight orter
’a’ kept the body down there till th’ day 0’
resurrection, or even longer.”

“ Crabs has done it,” theorized Mousey.

“ It don’t matter what done it,” Short-legs
summed up, “ that boy is forever out 0’ tb’ way,
an’ we have one less detective terror to buck
against.”

“ Right you are.”

“ But, be ye sure it was him?”

“ There is not a particle of doubt about the
matter,” decided the captain. “ We know that
the lad died sure enough, and his friends and
relatives know that he is not only dead, but de-
cently buried. Of course the manner of his tak-
igeg’ofl is a mystery to them, and so it ever will

Deal ’em

At this point Crackers sprung up with a loud
imprecation, dashed his cards down upon the
table, and declared that he Would never play
another band. He had lost another game.

Again Captain Iron—grip lay back in his chair
and laughed. ‘

Crackers was not the right sort of person to

play at cards. If he won he was forever boast-
ing of it, and if he lest he could not hold his
temper. He was ever at the extreme, one way
or the other.
. A great deal of laughing and joking followed,
in neither of .whicb Crackers took any part, and
when it had in a measure subsided the captain
looked at his watch and his manner changed
from gay to serious.

Throwmg aside his nearly finished cigar, he
rose from his chair, saying:

“Well, we have had enough of this: now to
business. Turn down the lights and come into
th'i‘lother room.”

9 manner of all the others chan ed too
and they rose to obey. g ’ ,

 

«—
.-

The lights were lowered, as directed, and the
commander led the way to one end of the room
where he opened a door, and they all entere
into the apartment described in the first chapter
of our story.

These men were the Sworn Seven.

The chief took his seat upon one of the black-
covered stools, and the others followed his ex-
ample. ,

Red light blazed from the hideous chandelier,
and the room was the same as it has been oe-
scrihed. N o alteration had taken place in i s
arrangement.

Captain Iron-grip took his sword from its
place in the floor, raised it, and in deep tones
demanded:

“ Has the League of the Sworn Seven been
true since last we met?”

“ We have been true i” was the response.

“ And ye are still steadfast to our purposes
and oaths?”

“ We are.”

“ It is well.”

The sword was lowered, and placed point to
the floor, the chief using it as a rest for his
hands, crossing them on the hilt.

“Men of the Seven,” he then addressed them,
“some of you know for what purpose we are
here. To the others I will now ex lain the work
we have in hand. To-morrow t 6 new ocean
steamsbi , the Ocean Queen, is expected to ar-
rive in ew York Bay. On board of her are
two persons in whom we have an interest. These
persons are a lady and her promised husband.
We need have nothing to do with their names.
When the big steamer arrives at Sandy Hook, a
steam pleasure-yacht will meet her, and these
persons will leave the steamer and get aboard
the latter craft. Are you paying attention?”

“ Yes. ” .

“ With these passengers on board,tbe plea sure-
{acht will steam up the bay, keeping close to
be Long Island shore on entering the Narrows,
and afterward. At a point between the Nar-
rows and another about opposite the Robbins
Reef Light, a tug will be met. Signals .will be
exchanged, and everything will appear all right.
As they come nearer, however, the tug will sig-
nal again, and will attem t to cross the bow of
the yacht. The latter will warn the tug to hold
its former course. Confusion will arise. The
yacht will attempt to get. out of the way, but

er captain, instead of helping matters, will, in
his confusion, place his craft right across the
bow of the on-coming tug. There will be a.
crash, and the chances are that the yacht will
be cut in twain.”

“ How in blazes do you know all that?” de-
manded one of the listeners, in the greatest
amazement.

“ Because it is our business to know it,” was
the quiet answer. “ We are to be the principal
actors in the tragedy.”

H  .n,

“ Pa attention further: The lady will be
rescue but her lover will be drowned. Do
you understand this?”

“ We do,” came the answer from those who
had had previous knowledge of the matter.

“ Two of you will happen to be near her when
the crash comes, and it Will be your business to
see that no harm comes to her. Two more of
you will see to it that the man goes down. The
other two will be_ aboard the tug. And right
here and now I Will appomt you to your several
postS.”

This was quickly done.

“ The regular employees of the yacht and tug
are to knew nothing about this little plot,” the
captain went on, “ except the men at the wheels,
and they will be paid well for their serViCe.
No danger from them will follow, for they will
stand in fear of the hangman, you see. The
others must take their chances.”

“ It is bound to work,” asserted Shorblegs,
rubbing his hands at the prospect of the excite-
ment.

“ It must be made to work,” the chief sternly
ordered. “ Much depends upon the success of
the scheme. If one of you fails to do his part,
let him beware of me. But, to go on, you can
all swim, and as soon as you reach the shore

ou must disappear. I will take charge of the
ady as soon as you leave her safe on dry
ground. When—”

“ Captain,” interrupted one of the Seven,
“ there is one weak point in that. 88 5'0“ have
laid it out.”

“ What is that?” Iron-grip asked.

“ If you won’t consider me takin’ toqmnch up-
on mvselffl’fl give on a point to consider on.

“ Go right ahea , Whalebone,” the captain
invited; “ we want the best plans we can make
up for our guidance in this matter.” .

     
 

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Broadway Billy’s Dead Act.

 

 

   
 

CHAPTER V.
THE swoau savnn’s SCHEME.

“ WHALEBONE,” as he was called, was about
the oldest man of the Seven. He had at one
ieriod of his life been a sailor, and this gave
him the peculiar name he now bore, inasmuch as
he had been on a whaling vessel.

Previously to that he had won distinction as a
“crook” in New York, and when he tired of
a seafaring life be naturally fell back into his

- former walk.

“ What I. was thinkin’ on,” he Set out to ex-
plain, “ was that I don’t like th’ idea 0’ the crews
0’ them crafts bein’ along.”

“ We can’t help that,” said the ca tain; “ we
couldn’t get along without them, an to try to
do so would arouse suspicion. Don’t you see
that it would?”

“ I reckon that you are right, an’ here is th’
other p’int: Wouldn’t it be better fer us fellers
ter be absent from th’ yacht, but be on hand in
a smaller boat ter take a hand in th’ rescue
business?”

t‘ 

“ ’Cause, we have ter go aboard as your party,
an’ you would have ter account fer us in some
way. Don‘t ye see ye would? If you said we
was drowned, you then would have tcr tell who
we was; an’ th’ same if we wasn’t.”

The captain was thoughtful for some time.

“ I see the case,” he said, “ and itlooks a little
awkward; but, at the same time, I think I see the
way around it. You must be on the tug instead
of on the yacht, and from there make the rescue.
The tug will assist in the work, and there need
be no danger to any one but the man I have in-
dicated.”

“ You are comin’ at it nOW,” agreed Whale-
bone, “ but kin I add one more word to it?”

“ Go right ahead.” '

“ Well. I think I ki. "uprove on th’ hull
thing. Why not let th’ captain of th’ tug ship
as as his crew fer th’ once, an’-—— But that won’t
do, mother. It ain’t no easy thing ter git
around. I begin—”

“ I have it n0w,” the captain interrupted,
“ and there need be no more parley over it.
The plan will remain the same, except that I
will reduce the forcc, and will not have any of
you on the tug.”

“ How will you do it that way?”

“Two of you. Mousey and Bob, will go on the
yacht. You will not know me, but will 0
along as friends of the expected man. I Will
giVe you his name later on. There will be
others there, of course, but you need not mingle
with them. Be well dressed, and wear all the
airs you can, but don’t overdo it. Both of you
are good Swimmers. Make sure of’ your work,
and then get to shore. It will be thought that
you drowned. No one will know who you Were.
I will make it my business to rescue the lady.
The tug will put forth every effort to save the
others. The captains, well paid, and afraid to
let out the truth, will make up a story of mis-
understanding of signals. Can any of you add
to that?”

“That is jest th’ ticket,” agreed Whalehone
immediately. ,

“ Nothin’ is th’ matter with that,” said Short-
legs. “ but where does our share of th’ fun an’
profits come in?”

“ You will have to lose the fun,” answered
the captain, “ but I will pay you all just as
though you were taking part in the scheme.
Isn't that fair?”

“ That is fair,” acknowledged Crackers, “ see-
in’ that ye can’t use us.”

“ And you all agree to it?”

“ W e do.”

“It is well. And now, men of the League of
the Sworn Seven, pledge yourselves to secrecy
in regard to the matter, and SWear that you will
remain true to our oaths and purposes.”

Each man took up the sword that was in
front of him, and repeated after the chief a
most blood-curdling oath of allegiance to him,
and submission to his orders, no matter what
they might be. i _

“ It is well,” Captain Iron-grip said again,
when they had sat down. “ Bo true to me and
'to each other, and I wlll make you all rich; be
false, and— But you know what to look for in
that caSe, and you know my power.”

' It was clear that the six men were completely

, under his authority, and that they were afraid

of him. It was equally clear that they had con-
fidence in him, and were only too glad to serve
him. Further, they had mutual interests that
made it binding upon them toreniain trueto
each other.

“ Our interests is common," owned Mousey,
“an‘ we are bound ter hang together fer our
Own good.”

 

“ If we don’t,” asserted the captain, “ we
shall surely hang together for the good of the
public at large, and that you may depend on.”

This mild joke brought a laugh from them all.

Much more was said, and the whole plan for
the intended dastardly crime of the marrow was
talked over and over until it was made as per-
fect as they could make it.

When they were about done and ready to
leave that chamber of horrors, the chief in-
quired:

“ By the way, you must all be as wary as old
foxes in regarr to that case of the boy, and also
that other one.”

“ No need tor tell us ter do that,” answered
the one called Bob.

“ No harm done to remind you of it. Use
your utmost caution. What is the prospect of
another victim in that line?”

“ W'e have our eyes on two or three of ’em,”

was the reply, “an’ may make a haul at any
time. We are after ’em, an’ we will ay ’em
up fer th’ pards o’ ours that is jugg. up th’
river.
Go for them whenever you have a
chance, and I will help you all I can. Well, we
must break up, for I have an engagement, and
it is near ten o’clock.”

A certain form was then gone throu h with,
there in the presence of those awful ske etons, a
form that was im ressive for the others, but
which was all bus to the chief; and then the
lights were turned out, and they returned to the
room where we first found them.

There the captain left them, after again re-
mindlng them of the great importance of the
work of the morrow.

What if they had known that their entire talk
had been overheard, cautious as they had been,
and secure as they felt themselves?

Such was the truth. There had been a lis-
tener, and for them a most dangerous one.

Who was it? ,

Under the floor of the very place in which
they had been assembled, lying flat on his sto-
mach in the dust and dirt, where at a glance it
would seem that there was barely space for a
cat to crawl, was the form of a boy.

And that boy was— Broadway Billy? Does
the reader so guess? If so, then the reader, usu-
ally quick to guess aright, is for the once mis—
taken. How could it be, with such proof that
Billy was dead? No, it was not he.

For a moment let us digress, and look at the
fate Billy had met. Bound hand and foot with
wire, tied up in a sack, a heavy weight attached
to his feet, he had been dropped at midnight
into the deep, dark waters of New York Bay.
Could he be otherw1se than dead? Further,
his body had been found, positively identified,
and buried.

No, this boy who had overheard the plot of
the Sworn Seven was not Broadway Billy. In
truth, it would have been utterly iiiiposSible for
Billy to have gained access to the place this boy
was in.

The beams and floor were but very little above
the ground, and the whole space between was
almost fllled with dirt and rubbish of all sorts.
It was a stifling, foul-smelling hole, a good den
for rats-and there were many of them around,
but not a fit place for any human being to enter.
But, any one would have asserted that it would
have been an utter impossibility for any one to
enter there, however much he might have de-
sued to do so, and no matter how small he might

Still it was proved not to be impossible, for
here was this boy, alive and in sound condition
of mind and body, lying there in the manner de-
scribed.

hButa, who was he? and what had brought him
t one

That boy was none other than Skinnv, Broad-
way Billy s shadow-like partner! '

Some hours earlier in the evening Skinny had
been attending to business at the corner stand,
and, at the same time, attending to a hot sup-
per which his mother had carried to him. As
Skinny was now practically alone in the man-
agement of that extens1ve biisiiieSs, it required
all his time, and he could not get away to either
dinner or supper.

He was eating away. talking to his mother as
he did so, stopping frequently to wait upon cus-
tomers as they came up._

The pair were discussmg the future, wonder-
ing what action Billy’s mother would want to
take in regard to the buainess, when a young
man of about twenty-five came along, glanced
at the stand, appearing to take in its extensive
draping with a good deal of interest.

He was a thin and pale young fellow, looking
older than he evidently was, and Skinny was

 

a

not at all favorably impressed with his appear-
ance.

He stopped, stepped up. and inquired:

“ Who is dead, young fellerf”

“ My pardner, ’ Skinny answered.

“ Your pardner, eh?” with a slight smile that
caused Skinny to hate him most heartily.

“ Yes,” he answered.

“ I think I knowed him,” the young man went
on, again showing,r his teeth in a death—like grin;
“ what did he die off’ ’

“It wasn’t with softenin’ 0’ th‘ brain, any-
h0w,” Skinny made reply, throwing, Bonn-thing
of Billy’s manner into the words.

“ Mebhy it was too much snmi‘tncss,” the fol-
low suggested, in a way that made Skinny in-
stantly suspicious, and with another of his
Satanic grins he turned away.

Skinny’s breath came hard and fast. For the
first time in his life he felt a touch of the real
detective fever upon him. Did this fellow know
anything about Billy’s fate? If he lost sight of
him now he might never see him again, and
would neVer know. It was now or never.

“ ’Tend ter biz, mom,” he cried; “ I am goin’
after that feller like hot shot. I want for know
where he meets, as Billy aster say. If I don‘t

it back at closin’ time, shut up shop an’ go

ome.”

His mother was about to protest, but Skinny
did not wait to hear what she had to say. Grab-
bin his hat, he darted away like a veritable
shadow after the man he wanted to keep in

i ht.

file followed the man toa miserable-looking
den on a miserable street, saw him enter, and
wanted to know more. He looked around, and
finally found a very small holein the foundation.
Into that he squeezed himself, hopin that he
might hear something of interest. He could
not have done better, if he had had a dozen
ways to select from. What his success was has
been told.

 

CHAPTER VI
EXPECTANT PLEASURE.

WHEN the convorsation in the room ceased,
as recorded, and the men separated, the under-
the-floor spy drew a long breath of relief and
gaye utterance to an ejaculation, “Great gin-

ger!

“ Well, of all th’ things that I ever thought
about or ever dreamed about,” he finally man-
aged to matter to himself, “this just takes the
lead. What would Billy say if— But, poor
Billyl he is gone, and there is to bringing him
bac . But, whewl here I have got lh’ hull
thing right in my hands, an’ all I have got ter
do is ter onwin it to th’ detectives, as Billy
WOllld say. and they will have their men. That
will be Jest glorious. But, who in th’ world
would ever thought 0’ me fiiruiu’ detective? I’ll
be hanged if I kin wonder now at th’ way
Billy ustci' like it. Why, I would wade inter
blood right up tor niv neck, now, for bring them
fellcrs ter ’count! by, it is so surprisin‘ that
1 km hardly believe that I ain’t dreaniin’.”

And indeed it was enough to stagger him.
This was his first adventure of the kind, of so
serious a nature, at any mic, and here he had
not only learned of the fate of his partner, but
held information regarding another plot that
Would. no doubt prove the saving of a life and
bring its projectors to account.

“Poor Billy! if he could only see me now,”
Skinny lamented, “what would he say? It
would strike him dumb an’ foolish. He wouldn‘t
know what to make of it I rutth guess.
But ”—-and a long sigh ended the vain specu-
lation.

Some of the villains Were gone, and Skinny
now began to think about getting out of his
close quarters and placmg tie information he
had gained into hands that could turn it to ac-
count.

Creeping along under the floor, he was, ere
long, under the first room of the den, where
some of the men had resumed their drinking,
smoking), and card-playing.

Here 6 listened for some time to their con-
versation, but, failing to learn anything of in-
terest to him, and anxious to get away, ie con-
tinued to wiggle his way toward the hole where

he had found entrance.

There was a wall in the way, some of the dis-
tance, which inclosed what the boy thought
must he a Cellar, and which he had not encoun-
tered in coming in. It took time and trouble

for him to get around that. and once he got into
a place where he thought he was certainly stuck
fast: but he get loose again, and Went on in his
search for the outlet.

Finally he found it, and putting his head out

 

 

6

Broadway Billy’s Dead Act.

 

 

with caution he took a survey of the alley upon
which the ho e opened.

The coast was clear, and, after something of
an effort, be got through and started away, but
first having made doubly sure of the house, so
that he could find it at another time without any
trOuble.

“Of all things queer and strange,” he mut-
tered, as he hastened along, “ this is th’ queer-
est an’ strangest that ever happened ter me. If
any one had told me this mornin’ that I was
guin’ to step inter Billy’s shoes an’ be a detect-
ive, I would ’a’ get mad at him, I have no
doubt; but here I am, sure as I am born. But,
land 0’ goodness! I kin never make such a rip-
snortcr as he was, that is flat. What I kin do,
though, is ter avenge him, an’ if I don’t do it, it
will be ’cause I don’t live long enough ter put
this case inter th’ bands 0’ Speare, th” detective.

“ Hello! it is after ten o’clock!” as he saw a
clock in a window; “ mom must ’a’ shut up
shop long afore this an’ gone home. I reckon
she has been as nervous as kin be about me
same as Billy’s mom uster be about him, butI
can’t help that now. have biz on hand that
won’t be put off, an’ it has got ter be done. Oh!
if I could only put th’ case inter Billy’s hands!
Poor Billy! poor Billy!”

So he rattled on, his tongue going almost as
fast as Billy’s had been wont to go, but what he
said lacked that spark that Billy’s quaint ex-
pressions always had.

“ Poor Bill , poor Billy!” be repeated now and
then. “’I‘h’ Ibst fix that he got inter, th’ time
that ho was carried up in th’ balloon, tied to it
by th’ feet, I told him ter look out for th’ next
one. I told him that one more case would wind
him up, an’ I went right off then an’ bought
stuff ter drape th’ stand with when th’ ’casion
should come. But I wasn't lookin’ fer it so
soon. It kem awful sudden. But it was jest
what might ’a’ been expected, after all. An’
yet I don't blame him, for it is a kind 0" ’trac-
tive work, when ye git inter it in dead earnest."

Thus he kept up the train of thought, talking
in an undertone to himself, and almOst before he
knew it he was opposite the corner where his
place of business was located.

“ Hello!” he exclaimed, “ be hanged if I ain’t
here a’readyl Mom has shut up, I see, an’ gone
home. I’ll see if she has made everythin
Secure, an’ then I’ll go an’ let her know that
am safe, an’ then for th’ detective. Won’t I—
Heavens! what is that?”

Skinny was crossing the street to where the
corner stand was when he suddenly saw some-
thing that caused his hair to rise on end, and
almost turned the blood to ice in his veins—if
his sensations went to indicate anything.

 

“ Who is the person, Hannah?”

“ Mr. Bertrand Wellingford, ma’m.”

“ Oh! indeed; show him into the parlor, and
I will be down immediately.”

It was in a splendid house on one of the finest
avenues of the great city. A ring at the bell
had just been answered by a servant, and a
gentleman inquired for Lady Hamptden.

t was not an early hour of the evening, being
after ten o’clock, and a short time later would
have found the house closed for the night.

As it was, Lady St. Gerome Hamptden had
gone up to her room, having just parted with
the last of the many callers who had been com-
ing and going during the evening, for this was
one of her “ at home” days.

When the servant went up to inform her that
yet another caller was at the door, it was with
something of a tone of impatience that she in-
quired who it was.

As soon as she heard the name, however, her
manner changed.

The servant returned and showed the gentle-
man into the parlor, and in a very short time
Lady Hamptden made her appearance.

She was a woman about fifty years of age,
rather fleshy, but still retaining much of her
youth in looks and manner. She was dressed in
an evening robe of the very latest fashion, and
her movements Were thoseof grace and polished
elegance. Her presence was commanding and
her bearing queenly, but she had withal an air
of lovaliness that was altogether motherly.

Bertrand Wellingford was upon his feet the
instant she entered the room, and bowed before
her with Chesterfieldiun grace.

He was about forty years of age, as one might

ess, wore a full beard, and was rather good-

ookin . He was above the medium size. and
was 0 powerful bu1ld. But, where have we
seen him before? Surely he is not—cannot be—
No, that idea must be dismissed. Captain Iron-
grip of the Sworn Seven could never gain en-
trance into this home. And yet, there was a

 

:triking resemblance. Could it possibly be
e?

“ Lady Hamptden,” he hastened to apologize,
“ I humbly ask your pardon for so late a call,
but I assure you that it could not be helped. I
have been pushed With business—business that
admitted of no putting off, and have had to
hurry to get here at all. I sincerely hope—”

“ My dear Wellingf'on ,” the lady interrupted,
as she gave him her hand, “ do not mention it.
If you have carried out all the requests that
I heaped upon you when you were here
yesterday, it is a wonder that you were not too
tired out to come. Pray be seated in the easiest
place you can find, and rest.”

“ Thanks,” the man responded, as he sat dOWn.
“To carry out your instructions has been only
a pleasure, I assure you, but I confess that I be-
gan to think that I was not competent to do it,
for it was not until within the past hour that
my efforts were crowned with success. To en—
gage a suitable yacht for the purpose was next
to an impossibility.”

“ But you have been successful?”

“ Entirely so, I am proud 10 say.”

“ Then I can never sufficiently thank you. I
knew that if any one could do it, you were the
person, and I see that my confidence was not
misplaced. Please accept my hearty thanks un-
til you are. better paid.”

“ I assure that your approval of what I have
done more than repays me for my efforts,” was
the return.

“ What kind of boat have you engaged?”

“ Just what you indicated; a pretty steam
yacht.”

“ Good! And you have arranged for a dinner
aboard of her?”

“I have.”

“ And the wine? and the ice cream? and—”

“ Everything that you mentioned has been
provided for. If there is any failure in any
direction, it will not be owing to neglect of
mine.”

“ Thank'you, thank you. I will not in uire
now about the terms, further than to ask 1 the
amount I gave you will be sufficient to defray
the expense.”

“ It will he more than sufl‘icient.”

“ Very well, then you need make no account
of the amount to me. I know there will not be
a great deal left out of the thousand dollars, and
you may do what you like with it—divide it
almogg the employees of the yacht, or anything
e se.

“ If you desire it.”

It was the only way in which the lady could
offer him payment for the service he had
rendered.

Bertrand Wellingford was far from rich, but
he was of good family—an English family, and
had the entrance to Lady Hamptden’s home.
That lady knew his circumstances, for she was
well acquainted with the family, and she aided
him whenever she had opportunity.

“ I would willingly pay much more,” the lady
went on to say, “ for the satisfaction of giving
my daughter such a welcome home. I am sure
that she will be delighted, and it will a surprise
for her. To be met away down in the bay and
taken on board of a pleasure yacht, where a
dinner will be all prepared, is an honor indeed.
And, not only that, but it will relieve her of the
tedious waiting in the river. She will be here
in the house long before the ship will be‘ ready
to discharge her passengers at the pier.”

“ In all of which you are quite correct,”
agreed Wellingford. “ And,” he added, “not
only will it be an agreeable surprise for your
daughter but it will be showing an extra honor
to your prospective son-in—law.”

‘ I am not unmindful of that, but I assure
you that my daughter is first in my thoughts.
And now, what about the hour? You are
master of the whole affair, you must not for-

1

et.

“That is altogether uncertain,” Wellingford
answered. “ The Ocean Queen may arrive in
the forenoon, afternoon, or evening. All that
I can say is, be ready. and I will come for you
at the proper hour. Or, if you would like, you
can go aboard the boat early in the morning,
and make a day of it. It will be a pleasant
day’s excursion for you and the others.”

“ Just the plan! That is what we will do.”

Some further conversation f0110wed, in which
the arrangements were fully discussed, and then
the man took his leave.

CHAPTER VII.

A MYSTERY HERE.
“ Sweet pertaters !”
Wonder of wonders! Broadway Billy alivs!
Could such a thing be possible? Assuredly

 

 

   

not—and yet that exclamation was his, and no
one else could utter it with such vnn and telling
effect.

But how? In what manner? How was it
pos—-—

Broadway Billy was both dead and alive. To
his friends he was dead, but to us and himself
he lived.

“ Sweet pertaters! Where be I, anyhow?”

d It was some hours after the attempted mur—
er.

Where he was he could not tell. What had
happened he did not for the moment remember.

He found himself lying upon an exceedingly
narrow bed, in very narrow quarters, for the
room was only about six feet across, and about
seven in length. Perhaps it would have prowd
even smaller by actual measure. Opposite to
where the boy lay was another bed, similar to
the one he was on, and the space between was
orgy two feet or less wide.

he floor was carpeted with a soft rug, and
the bed was soft and easy. In height, the room
was only about five feet at the center, and it
ran down in a sharp curve to only two feet high
at the back part of the beds.

At the head of the beds, too, it was lower
than at the feet. At the higher end there was
a small door, now closed.

For some minutes the lad looked around him
in bewilderment, unable to recall anything that
had happened, but soon the events through
Erhich he had passed came to his mind like a

ash.

He remembered it all, even to the being
thrown overboard, and the sensations he had
felt when going down tothe bottom of New
York Bay.

“Be I alive? or been’t I?” he quaintly ques—
tioned. “ How he I ter tell? Mebby I am
aboard th’ craft that is ter convey me ter th"
happy huntin’grounds, as th’ Injuns say.
dunno, I’m sure. One thing that I do know,
though, is thatI don’t feel pooty good. That
makes me think that l’ni alive more’n anything
else. If I was dead, an’ had kem ter life in th’
hereafter, I’d expect ter feel mighty good. My
breather don’t seem ter work with any degree
0’ smoothness about it. Th’ valves an’ what-
nots don’t seem ter work as they’d orter, an‘ I
feel weak. That ain’t th’ condition ter look fer
in t’other world, as I onderstand it, an’ hence I
conclude that 1 am not dead yet, even if they
did try ter do me up.”

So he reasoned it out.

“ But, goodness me, how sore I be!” be ex-
claimed, as he tried to raise l‘imself up, “ and
how mighty weak! I’ll bet that I’ve been
through some sort of a narrer hole, an’ had th’
closest shave fer life that I ever had. Guess I’ll
take it easy, an’ lay right here till somebody
comes in ter see me. It is clear ter my way 0’
thinkin’ that somebody has saved my worthless
life, an’ that that somebody is ta kin’ care 0’ me.
I’m heaply obliged ter him, I’m sure, an’ I
must remember ter tell him so, too. Wish he’d
come in an’ throw a little light upon matters.
There is some light here, but it ain’t of th’ sort
that I want in this case."

The light that has been mentioned came
through a small square of ground glass that was
set in the door.

While Billy lay thus, with all sorts of ideas
flitting through his mind, the door opened and
a man stepped into the apartment.

Billy looked at him, and he at Billy.

He was a man about thirty years of age, fine—
looking, well-made, and about of medium size.
He wore a mustache, and his hair was thick
and wavy. He was dressed in a simple attire,
consisting of a blue shirt and blue trowsers.

“Ha! my boy, you have came to!” be ex—
claimed.

“ I don’t know much about it,” answered
Billy, “but I am willin’ ter take yer word fer
it!

The man laughed.

“ I can assure you upon the point, then,” he

said.

“ Well, I’m glad ter know it anyhow,” dc-
clared Billy, “fer, ter tell th’ truth, I was a
little oncertain about it. Didn’t know but I’d
waked up in th’sweet by an’ by, an’ was waitin’
fer my wings ter grow. Now as you have been
so kind as ter give me light on that p’mt, I
wish you would tell me where I am, how I kem
here, an’ all about it.” . ‘ .

“Don’t you think you had better wait until
you are a little stronger?” _

“ Wait! Why, mister, if you keep me waitin’
fer half an hour I’ll be dead. I am jest dyin’
ter know all about it. Th’ last that I know any-
thing about was when I pitched overboard in a

bag, with my hands an’ feet tied fast, an’a I

L_ .
Dr“? 7. v.

 

 

 

  

 

 

__"‘h.~( .

‘A {iv-3;?- rr (m

V

Jaggf

 

W7-

Broadway Billy’s Dead Act.

‘ i

'7

 

 

 

‘ heavy stone or somethin’ of th‘ kind at my feet.

Down I went, with a rush an’ a bump, an’ that
is all I know about it.”

“ It was that ‘ bump ’ that saved your life.”

“ What! that bump saved my life?”

“ Exactly so.”

“ Oh! I see. I went to th’ bottom with sich a
jerk that th’ Weight broke loose, th’ bag ripped
open, an’ up I popped, like a stopper out o’ a

bottle. You happened ter come along, run me
down, SCooped me in, an’ here I am. Ain’tI
right!”

‘ Well hardly,” answered the. man, with a
laugh. ‘ You Were only too well tied up, and
there was no possmle chance for that stone to
get loose. You are right about my being on
hapd to scoop you in, however, as you express
it.
“ You git ahead 0’ me,” confessed Billy. “ I
don’t onderstand it.”

“ No, of course ou don’t. But, there, I
think you have ta ked enough for one time.
You are weaker than you think you are, and
must go to sleep. You have had a narrow pull
for your life, and I have got to take the best of
care of you for some time to come.”

“ Couldn’t think 0’ sich a thing,” declared
Billy. “ I have got ter know th’ hull fax in th’
case right now, or bu’st."

He was taxing his strength to the, utmost,
and he knew it. He knew that what the man
said was true, that he was Very weak. But, he
was ea er to know what sort of an adventure
he had een through.

The man had produced a bottle and a spoon.

“ It is time for your medicine, now,” he said,
as he poured something from the bottle into the
spoon; “ here; take this, and we Will talk after-
ward.”

Billy, too weak to resist, or to care anything
about it, anyhow, opened his mouth and took
the dose.

For the time being that settled Billy. He tried
to continue the talk, but his tongue grew thick,
and in a short time he was in a deep sleep.

The man watched him with a smile.

“ Poor chap,” he observed, “ he had a tough
time of'fl'if‘llnd I must not let him do too much
talking. ‘ He is bright as a dollar, and I am anx-
ious to learn all about him, but I must wait.”

He went softly from the room, though there
was little danger that the boy would wake now,
closing the door after him, and Billy slept on.

The room into which the man passed was of
the same shape as the one Billy was in, but it
was larger. Here he could stand upright, and
had room to turn about. There was a
narrow table in the Center, and three or four
chairs.

In one of these chairs a man was seated. He
was older than the one we have already seen.
He had a close-cropped white beard, wore glass-
es and was reading.

6 looked up as the younger man entered and
asked:

“ Well, how is the lad?"

“ He has come to,” was the answer, “and I
guess he will come out all right. He wanted to
know everything in one question. and I had to
put him to sleep in order to shut his mouth. He
is a regular rattle-box.” ’

“I thought I heard his tongue going pretty
livelV. Did you find out who he is?”

“ No; he did not give me a chance.”

“ Oh, well, there will be plenty of time."

While they were talking another young man
came in, entering by a door opposite to that
opening into the room where Billy was sleep-

mg.

He looked to be about tWenty years of age,
and seeing them all together, one would have
guessed that they were lather and sons.

Such was the case.

“ Is everything all right, Charles?" the father
asked.

“ Yes," answered the younger brother, “ every-
thin is as it should be.”

“ am glad to hear it. Well, sit down, boys,
and read or do whatever you. like for an hour.
At the end of that time we will have to procure
fresh air, and then we will change our position
a little.” ' ,

“ What about the boy i” inquu'ed the elder
brother.

“ We will keep him here,” the father respond-
ed. “I am curious to know who be Is, and why
the attempted murder. He is dead to the world,
and his detention here until be 18 fully recovered
will make no difference in the case.”

It was many hours before Broadway Billy
awoke again, but when he did so, and had look-
ed around and recalled where he_was, he gave
utterance to his same old exclamation. -

The elder of the brothers had been in to see

 

him many times in the meanwhile, and when he
heard the exclamation he entered at once.

“ Hello! awake, are you '1’” he cheerin greeted.

“ I guess so,” returned Billy, “ but, can’t be
quite sure of it. Can’t be sure of anything in
these times 0’ resurrection. Did go ter
sleep?”

u Yes.”

“ I thought so. It seems ter me that you was
goin’ ter tell me about how ye got bolt 0’ me,
wasn’t yo?”

“I believe 1 was. Had you not better wait,
however, until you have had something to cut,
and are made stronger?”

“ Nary a wait!” Billy exclaimed. “If you
only kn0wed what a fever I am in, an’ what an
awful nightmare I have had about it, you
wouldn‘t ask it. I am jest dyiu’ ter know th’
truth, th’ whole truth, aii’nothin’ but th’ truth,
in th’ case.”

“ Well, if you are as bad olf as that, I will
tell you.”

—_

(THAPTER VIII.
REVELATION iiiMENsn.

AND he. began with a question.

“My boy.” he asked, ‘ have you no suspicion
as to where you are?"

"I don’t reckon I have,” he answered. “I
am like a cat in a strange garrct. I don’t know
t’other cud from which, cz it Were."

The man smiled. He had certainly found a
quaint and peculiar boy.

“ Have you ever heard of the l’irogue’l" he
asked.

“ Have I over head of the Peeroag 3‘” re-
peated Billy. “ I hardly guess that I have.
“'hat is a—what is that, anyhow (”

“ A piroguc? thy, it isa name applied to a
certain kind of boat; properly, a. canoe formed
of one largo trcc. 'ou may have heard it
called ‘ porgy.”

“ Oh!” exclaimed Billy, “ if you meant th’
Porgy , why didn’t you say so? That is th’
name of that great under-water boat that th’
newspapers has been puilin’ about so much of
late, ain’t it?”

“ Yes. that is what I mean, but I prefer to
pronounce it my way.”

“ And do you mean ter telhmo that I am
aboard 0’ that strange jigger?” Billy demanded,
his e es Wide open with wonderment.

“ 'lIhat is just the fact in the case, my lad,”
was the smiling answer.

“ And who are you?"

“ I am Captain Daunton.”

“ Swaet pertaters! What would Skinny say
ter this, I wonder? What would thcm Sworn
Seven say, if they could know that 1 am still on
my pins, an’ after ’ein wuss’n a dose 0’ p’izen?
You km bet yer life thct there is goin’ ter be a
time, mister, an’ that—”

The man had listened in alarm to this rattling
volley of words, meaningless to him, and he in-
terrupted :

“ My . boy, I am afraid that your mind is
wandering, and that it will not do for us to talk
any longer to—day.”

“Nal'l' I! Wonder!” Billy returned, quickly.
“My thinker i< all right. cnp’n, an’ you mustn’t
git skart so fast at what yo don’t git th’grip
onto th’ first round. that I was goin’ tcr say
was, that there was goin’ ter be a time, an’ that
Broad way Willyum was goin’ ter be th’ he~h0ss
that would turn th’ crank when he gits himself
together again !”

" My stars! boy, do you mean to say that you
are Broadway Billy, the hero of a hundred ad-
ventures?” the captain of the Pirogue cried.

“ There is no mistake about my bein’ Broad-
way lVillyum,” the young detective replied,
“ but as ter my bein’ a hero I don’t agree with
ye. Th’ great tioublc with meis tliatI ain’t
got no brain ter speak of, an’ I am allus runnin’
inter some sort 0’ diilikilty that other folks
wouldn’t think 0’ gettin’ inter. That is one sure
sign that I ain’t got all my buttons, I take it.
Yes, I am Broadway Billy, but you don’t want
ter call me a hero. I deny th’ charge, yer
Honor.”

Captain Daunton had to laugh.

“ My brother Charles will have a fit when he
learns v be you are,” he said. “ He has read a
good deal about you and your escapades, and
there will be no holding him.”

“ Botlm‘ not tell him, then," Billy suggested.
“ But,” he added, “ I’m jest dyin’ ter hear all
about how you saved my Wu’thless life, an’ all
about it.”

“ You had better rest awhile first—”

 

“ Naryl” protested Billy, “it is now or never.
See tn’ state 0’ fever I am in. I must know th’

hull thing or you will have a corpus on your
hands, an’ that corpus will be about my size.
Plunge right in. now, an’ let’s have it out.”

“Very well, Billy, here goes:

“Let me begin with telling you something
about the I’irogue. My father, Mr. Henry
llaunton, is a mechanic and inventor. M
brother and I are machinists. Father has n -
ways been after something new in his line of
labor, and spent some years in trying to iii—
vcut a flying—machine. thothel‘ he would have
succeeded or not I am not prepared to say. He
has a way of dropping one thing and taking up
another suddenly. The flying-machine is at
present ‘ aslee ’, as we Speak of it.

“ Father SIIlIIlCIlly got an idea that he could
make a boat that would go as well under the
water as other boats go upon its surface, or even
better. He tried it, with us boys to help him.
We all set to work, and after scvcral years of.
hard work, in which we were all deeply inter-
(‘stml tho Piroguo was the result."

Billy was listening with mouth, eyes, and
ears.

“ The Piroguo is a success,” the norm tor went
on. “ We have lived aboard of her for some
months now, most of the time under water——”

“Bo we under water now?” Billy broke in
with a question.

“ Yes,” was the answer, “ we are at the bot-
tom ol' New York Bay, about halt—way between
the city and Staten Island."

“ Sweet pcrtutcrsl be I alivo an’ wide awake?
or be I dead an’ dreamiu’? Who Would thunk
o’ sich a thing as this fer inc tcr fall iiilci'? This
beats tli’ Dutch. this docs, an’ by big odds, loo.”

“ Our invention is not yet patented,” Captain
Daunton went on to say, “ and So we do not on-
lizhten the re )ortcrs who have called to see us.
They Sf‘e our Imat, guess at its motch power,
and are no wiscr than one who reads Veriie’s
great romance. Have you read that!”

“ No, chsS not.”

“ You will want to, after your experience
aboard the I’irogue.”

“Mcbby I’ll tackle it; but, how about your
saviii‘ me? That is th‘ p'int that interests me
now. I can’t grip on ter that worth a cent or
two.”

“ \Vell, my boy, we will not claim the honor
of having saved you, for. to tell the truth, it
was more by the hand of Providence than any-
thing else. I will tell you how it was.

“ The I’iroguc was lying at rest at the bottom
of the buy, just as she is now, and we were
about retiring to our banks. We had just been
to the surface fora supply of fresh air. Sud-
denly we were startled by hearing something
come down upon the top of our unique habita—
tion with considerable force. ll'e thought it to
be tllt- anchor of some. vessel.

“ Fearing that some damage might have been
done, we made haste to make an examination.
I slipped on my diving-dress which we keep
prcp'ii'cd for instant use, at“ can put on in
about thirty seconds; Charles prepared the out-
let, and father turned on the lights and looked
out.

“ There is an oblong elevation on the middle
of our boat, in the sides and ends of which are
set thick plates of glass to enable us to see
around us.

” As father looked out he exclaimed:

“ ‘ There is something lying hereon the for-
ward end of the boat, boys, and it looks to me
like the form of a human being in a sack.
Make all the haste you can.’

“ Of course Charles and I made all the haste
possible, and in about a minute and a half I was
outside. Going to where you lay, I grabbed
hold of you, found that father had been correct
in his guess, mid my first impression was that
you were some dead sailor thus consigned to a,
watery grave from some vessel.

“ But I soon had reason to change my mind.
No sooner had I laid hand upon you, scarcely,
than I fclt you more, and knew that you were
alive and beyond doubt the victim of foul play.

“ You may believe that I lost no time in pct-
ting into the boat with you. You were dragged
roughly up to the water-lock, into it, the top
was secured with all the haste I could command.
and then you and I, together with the flood of
water that the 10ck contained, tumbled down
into the inside air-lOck.

“ To get you from there into the. boat proper
was the work of another minute, and by the
time that we got you out of the sack and un-
bound, some six, seven, or perhaps eight. mm‘
utes had elapsed, and you were about as near
drowned as you well could be and have a spark
of life left in you. Almost anv one would have
pronounced you dead, and in a short time 30}!
would have been; but father has studied modi—

    
 

8

Broadway Billy’s Dead Act.

 

 

cine and all that pertains to it, and he declared
that there was hopes for you even then.”

“ I’m much obliged ter him, I am sure,” ob-
served Billy, feelingly, “ an’ likewise ter you,
too; also yer brother. If it hadn’t been f ei you
an’ yer Porgy, I would about now be lendiii’ my
carcass tor fatten th’ crabs o’ th’ bay I s’pose.
That would be pleasant for th’ crabs, I have no
doubt, but rather rough on me.”

Captain Daunton had to laugh.

“ I believe all that has been written about
you is true,” he declared. “If you are so full
of life in your present half-dead condition, I
cannot imagine what you must be when you are
well and able to get around.”

“ Who is half dead?” Billy demanded.

“You are. You are bruised and sore from
head to feet almost, and it is a wonder to me
that you are not dead . uite.”

Billy realized that this was true, and that he
could not move without an effort and the pen-
alt of considerable pain. Nor would he be
like] to do otherwise for days to come.

“ do feel pooty sore, an’ that is a fack,” he
admitted.

“ Let me go on with my story,” said the cap-
tain of the craft. “ Father set to work at you,
and we all had our hands full for about two
hours. Father was determined to bring you
back to life, but I must confess that Charles and
I would have given up in despair, had it not
been for him.

“ ‘ We must keep at him, boys,’ he kept say-
ing. And he went on and told us of cases where
drowned persons had been revived even after
they had been supposedly dead for an hour or
more. Our first work was to roll the water out
of you, and then while my brother and I took
turns at holding your tongue out and working
your arms up and down, father worked to re—
store your circulation and inspiration. The
way he pressed you this way and that was
enough to have islocated every rib in your
body. But, it did the business for you, and here
you are. What are you laughing at!”

Billy was laughing heartily.

“ I was only smilih’ ter think that you done
somethin’ fer me that I was never able ter do
fer myself; namely, ter hold my tongue.”

Just then a bell sounded somewhere aborda
the Pirogiie, and the captain arose to go, saying
that it was the signal from his father that they
must rise for a supply of air, and he hastened
out, leaving Billy alone.

CHAPTER IX.
BILLY’s RESURRECTION.

HALF a dozen stories the length of this would
hardly serve to tell all of Broadway Billy’s ex-
perience on board the Pirogue during his nearly
three weeks’ stay.

It must be crowded into this one chapter.

Other matter demands that we push on. so it
must be briefly summed up and diSposed of.

What his reflections were when he was left
alone, as the narration closed at the end of the
preceding chapter, may be imagined; they cer-
tainly cannot be fittineg told.

Perhaps. his own exposition of them will serve
as our best guide.

“ Sweet pi-ii'taters!” he exclaimed, “but 1 am
floored this time fer sure. This beats all tli’
s’prise parties that ever happened tcr me. I do
wonder what th’ next will be. It is party sar-
taiii that I have been jest a leotlc closter ter
death this time than I ever was before or seiico.
This jest melts th’ honey right out 0’ th’ comb,
an’ no mistake about that. It takes th’ beans
right out 0’ th’ pods. Ter think that I am on
board of a craft that goes under water—words
fail me ter express my ’motions. Why, I would
give th’ best an’ brightest two-dollar silver cer-
tificate that ever kem out o’ th’ press if I could
have Skinny here. Wouldn’t his eyes flip open
some, though! He would open his mouth so
wide With wonder that I could Count th’ j’ints in
tli’ back 0’ his neck, aii’ niiiiierate his ribs from
th’ inside. An’ as fer InSpector Br— Hello! I
rather reckon We are on th’ m0ve.”

The clicking of machinery was heard. and the
bpalitfwas felt to tremble and quiver like a thing
0 i e. ~

Billy could not tell whether it was moving
forward, backward, or upward; but from what
had been said he guessed that it was moving to-
ward the surface.

This surmise was correct, and in a few nio-
ments the motion of the waves was felt, and
soon after there came a rush of air into the
apartment where the boy lay.

The air was cool and refreshing, and Billy
drew it into his lungs in eager haste, as though
it were to be the last chance that he would ever

V6.

 

 

The Pirogiie remained at the surface for some
time, but presently its air-ports were closed and
it sunk once more out of sight.

But it did not go tothe bottom. Instead, it
sunk only to a certain depth, its propeller was
put in motion, and, headed toward the Narrows,
it moved rapidly away from the city.

Some time later, Mr. Daiinton, the elder, came
into the apartment where Billy lay.

“ Well, my lad, how do you feel?” he in-
quired.

“ I think I improve as I grow better, sir,”
answered Billy, his face perfectly straight and
sober.

The man smiled at the quaint expreSSion.

“ That is good,” he returned, “and if you
only grow better as you improve you will soon
be well.”

“ I hope so, sir; and I want to thank you
for saving my life, and for your care of me.”

“ That is all right, lad; don’t mention it.
What do you think of the Pirogue? But it is
hardly fair to put that question to you until you
hage seen more of the boat, and what she can
do. ’

“ I think she is a great craft, sir," was Billy’s
response. “ Only fer her I would be furnishin’
food for fishes about now.”

“ You certainly would. My invention has
proved the means of saving your life. By the
way, has either of my sons told you where we
are going?”

“ No, sir: they haven’t been in.”

“ We are going to Philadelphia.”

“ SWeet pertaters! I won’t git home in a
week!”

“ We shall be back here in about two weeks.”

“ Why, my mom will think for sure that I am
dead,” said Billy, anxiously. “I wish I could
git word to her that I ain’t. I am willin’enough
ter take th’ trip, but I hate ter have ’em think
that I have gone under.”

“ If it had not been for the Pirogue you would
be dead indeed, in lad, but as it is you will
turn up all in g( time, like a bad penny. It
is very thoughtful of you to have your mother
first in consideration. Her joy at your return,
however, will amply offset any anxiety she will
have had about you.”

“ Well, if it can’t be helped, of course it
ca’n’t,” reasoned Billy, “ so I’ll make th’ best of
i

“ That is the right View to take of it, my boy;
and now I would like to hear your story. and
knownwho it was that tried to put you out of the
we .

Billy went ahead and told him all he could
about it, and the man listened with much inter-
est.

“ You are a remarkable boy,” he observed,
when Billy ended his narration, “ and it is no
wonder that your enemies have tried to dispose
of you. My son Charles has told me of some of
your adventures. It seems that you are some-
thing of a police detective.”

“ I might be, if I had any brain,” Billy mo-
destly returned, “ but that is a serious impedi-
ment that stands in my way. If I have helped
th’ perlice any, it has been more through dumb
luck than anything else.”

“ Charles has another opinion on that point,”
Mr. Daunton observed.

“ Then I’ll have ter set him right, th" first
time I see him, that is all,” the boy stoutly de—
clai'ed.

“ As for the rascals who tried to murder you,”
the man further observed, “ it will do them no
harm to think that they made a success of their
undertaking, and their surprise will be all the
greater when you turn up to confront them.”

“ That is jest what I_ am countin’ on,” ayerred
Billy. “It is th’ delight o’ my life fer bring
sich fellers up with a round turn when they
think they have got everything their own way.”

“ Perhaps, though, your friends will have
found them out and arrested them.”

“ I don’t think so,” replied Billy. “ I don’t
see how they could git a clew ter th’ case.
Nobody knows where I started fer when I left
th’ stand, an’ I didn’t even tell, Skinny. my
partner. Ye see I had no idea that I was
riinnin’ inter danger. I tell ye they got th’
bulge on me in good style. an’ that is further
proof ter th’ fact that I ain’t got no brain in my
head in th’ place where brain orter be.”

They talked for some time. but why record
all that was said? It would be of interest
enough in its way, but there are interests of
greater moment that demand our attention.

In two or three days Broadway Billy was able
to go about the boa t, and he was greatly liked
by his three friends, especially Charles, the
younger son, who had read everything that had
been published about him. ,

 

It was an experience that was worth a life-
time, almost, to the boy.

The Pirogue was most certainly a wondrous
craft.

It was about sixty feet in length, and was
evidently modeled after a fish of Some kind. It
was larger at the head than at the stern end.
Its engines were placed in the center, and it was
propelled with two screws. What its motive
power was we do not know. It was so arranged
that it could be made to ascend or descend at
will, and its speed was not by any means slow.

Billy never tired of sitting and looking out as
the mysterious, alive-seeming boat forgedahead
through the water, its powerful lights illumi-
nating the depths for many yards ahead and
around.

The elder son was the captain, as he had
studied and understood navigation, and the
yoanger was the engineer. The father held the
post of commander. _

One supply of air lasted several hours, as Bil-
ly soon came to know. Some kind of chemicals
were used that kept it charged with its neces-
sary elements for a long time. .

Their food consisted of such things as required
little cooking. They had a plentiful and varied
stock, however, 80 they did not mind that.

The diving-suit of Charles, the younger son,
could be made to fit Billy, and on one or two
occasions he went out of the boat and had the
novel experience of walking at the bottom of
the sea.

To describe the whole voyage is next to im-
possible, and it would require, in detail, half a
dozen stories the length of the present one, as we
have already said. _

Arriving at Philadelphia, Mr. Daunton was
the only one who went ashore. It was his re-
quest that Billy‘ remain aboard, and the sons
had no desire to land. '

In two or three days they started upon their
return trip to New York, and 'all went well un-
til they reached the ocean and started up the
coast.

There they were ovartaken by a heavy storm.

If they could have remained at the bottom or
near it, all the time, they would not have mind—
ed it in the least: but they had to have air. and
when they rose to the surface they Were in dan-
ger. The wild waves tossed their boat this way
and that, and there was danger that some Vital
part of the machinery would be broken. .

But they got through without serious acci-
dent, and in two weeks from the time of their
departure they found themselves once more in
New York Bay.

Billy was now eager to get ashore.

He had fully recovered from his shock, sore-
ness and weakness, and was, like the much-
quoted Richard, himself again. I _

There was no excuse for detaining him longer,
so it was agreed that he should be allowed to go
on shore immediately.

It was about ten o’clock at night when the
Pirogue was finally anchored .at one of the
piers on the East River, and Billy was then
at liberty to go where he would.

From their manner, his new~f0und friends
parted with him with. regret. They gave him
a pressing invitation to 30m them again when-
ever he pleased, so long as they remained at
New York.

“You will probably find us anchored right
here for two days.’ explained Mr. Daunton,
“and after that we shall take a trip to Boston.
From there we shall return here, and will let
you know when we are in the harbor. After
that we shall start on our intended trip across
the ocean.”

“ I’ll try ter see ye afore ye start on that
trip,” promised Billy, " if I don’t see ye afore
ye set out for Bosting. Mebby I’ll see .ye two
or three times, if ye don’t git tired 0’ seem’ me.”

“No fear of that,” they all assured him.

“One thing is sartain,” assured Billy, “an’
that is that I shall never forget you an’ what
you have done fer me.” '

At length. after many assm‘ances of friend-
ship and remembrance on both Sides, they part-
ed. and Billy started immediately for the corner
where his place of business was situated. _

“Well, here I be, home again,” Billy medi-
tated, as he walked along the familiar streets,
“an’ I reckon I weigh jest as much _as I did
afore I started. Oh! but won’t I make it warm
fer them fellm‘s, though. jest as I promised ’em
I would if I escaped. An’ won’t I s’prise mom
an’ Skinny! I wonder if they have give me up
fer dead this time. It is about th’ longest stay
that l have ever made away from home Without
lettin”em hear from me. But, they will find
that I am th’ Same old VVillyiim. an’ I’ll soon be
Open an’ ready for business at th’ old stand.”

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Broadway Billy’s Dead Act.

 

CHAPTER X.
TEE PARTNERS MEET.

IN this manner the daring young ex~bootblack
bravo entertained himself as he walked hastily
along, and in a little while he was at his place
of business.

There a great surprise awaited him.

“ Sweet pertaters. lamp-black, s’teen-penny
nails an’ tooth-picks!”

That was the exclamation that escaped him
when he beheld the manner in which the corner
stand was draped with mourning.

And then he placed his hands on his hips and
stood and surveyed it for some time in silence.

“ Well, I’ll be jiggeredl” he at length ejacu-
lated.

He was on a corner opposite to the stand, and
had not yet crossed ~over to it. By the neigh-
boring electric lights he could see it Well enough
from where he was.

His next performance was to laugh long and
heartily.

He could not help it.

“ Well, Skinny, my finespun partner, you
have done it this time, an’ no mistake about it.
Accordin’ ter th‘ ’pearance 0’ things somebody
is dead, an’ I reckon that somebody must be me.
Anybody would think it was th’ President 0‘ th’
United States, by th’ amount 0’ drapin’ you dis-
play. You have got it loaded clear up to th’
muzzle, as sure as anything. Ha, ha, ha!”

Billy was much amused. and in truth the
stand was greatly overloaded with the emblems
of mourning.

“ What I would like ter know, though,” Billy
went on to mutter to himself, “is what proof
they have got that I am defunct. If they are
merely guessin’ at it they will hear from me,
an’ they kin depend on that. I shouldn’t think
mom would allow any sich a display as this,
until she was dead sure that I had gone under.”

It was taken all in all, a serious moment in
Billy’s life. Here he was, looking upon things
as they would be if he were dead indeed.

“ They must have some way of inferrin’ that;
I am gone hence,” he reflected, “ an’ I would
like ter know what it is; fer I don’t see what it
kin be. It ain’t likel that th’ fellers that put
me Out 0’ th’ way has rought ’em proof 0’ my
death. They might ’a’ cut off my head an’ sent
it home, I s’pose; but as I happen ter have my
head along with me, that idee is knocked intern
cocked bat. An’ as I am not in th’ habit o’
wearin’ a. great signet ring, they couldn’t ver
well send that; an’ as fer my body bein’ foun ,
that is out 0’ th’ questioa, as I happen ter be at
home in it at present. Well I won’t worry
about it, fer I reckon I’ll find out all about it
purty soon now.”

His next reflection was as to whether he
should go over and rip the mourning stuff down
from the stand, or leave it there and let Skinny
take it down next day.

“ I reckon I’ll leave it there,” he concluded.
“It will be a. good joke on my thin partner ter
make him take it all down again; an’ besides
that, it may be well ter let folks think that I am
dead, till I can see Skinny an’ see how th' land
la 8. Yes, I will leave it there jest as it is.”

aving come to this conclusion, Billy was
about to start for home, when whom should he
see coming toward the stand from the oppoSIte
direction but Skinny.

“ Sweet pertaters!” Billy exclaimed, “ but
here will be some fun, sure as I am a livin' sin—
nor. Here comes Skinny hisself, an’ if I don’t
scare th’ daylights out 0’ him, it will be ’cause I
can't do it.”

Skinny came on at a rapid walk, and as he
drew near, Billy stepped out where he would be
seen.

It was the sight of Billy that caused Skinny
toutter the startled exclamation at the point
where we found it necessary to drop him.

And it was quite enough to startle him and
cause him to exclaim.

Here was his partner, whom he knew to be
dead, standing before him. It was his ghost!

“ Billy l” the frightened thin partner ejacu~
lated. .

Billy advanced upon him With theatrical
strides, raising his right hand as he came near,
and when he was near enough, said in hollow
tones:

“Skinny, behold yer pardner’s oneasy Sper-
,retl”

Skinny was as pale as death, and was trom-
bling as though he had a bad case of chills on
ban .

“ W-w-w—what d-d—do you want, Billy?” he
chatterineg in uired.

“ Skinny,” i ly answered, in the same sepul-
chral tones, “I have come back ter ha’nt you

 

because my sperret can’t rest easy. I thought
you loved me, Skinny, I did, but I see it was all
puton.”

Poor Skinny was badly scared.

“ No it wasn’t put on, nuther, Billy,” he earn-
estly averred; “see what I have put up here on
th’ stand in memory of ye. See this band on
my hat. See this other one on my arm.”

“Yes,I see; an’ you are in a poMy—hmkin’
state fer a mourner to he in, ain't ye? Ye look
as if ye had been sleepin’ in a pig-pen.”

“ I have been in a place almost as bad, Billy,
an’ all on account 0’ you,” the trembling Skinny
managed to so y.

“ Been off on a scream, mebbe, now that I
ain’t here no more ter watch ye an‘ keep ye in
th’ straight an’ narrer path 0’ virtue. But,
what did you mean, Skinny, by disgracin’ my
memory as you have done with all this mournin ?
Any one would think that th’ chief cook 0’ Tam-
many was dead."

“ Ain’t you pleased with it. Billy? If you
ain’t, I wil take it down th’ very fiist thing ter-
morrow.”

“ Be I pleased with it? No, I ain’t. Too much
of a good thing is no good at all. You have
cast sich a gloom over my memory with all
this black-stuff, Skinny, that th’ shadder of it
hides th’ way an’ I can’t tell where I want ter
go to. That is why 1 am back here. If you
want me ter rest in peace, my thin partner, th’
drapin’s will have ter come down.”

Billy was as sober as a judge, his right hand
was held steadily up, and he continued to speak
in the same hollow tones.

It was a trying thing for Skinny’s nerves. In
his mind there was no doubt but that he was
talking to a veritable ghost.

“ It shall all come down ter-morrow, Billy,”
he promised faithfully. “ Only give me till
then, an’ I won’t leave a thread of it hangiu’.”

“ tis well. But, remember this: If you do
not 0 as you agree, I will come to your cham-
ber at twelve o’clock eVery night, an’ will ha’nt
ye th’ remainder o’ yer days. This I swear by
th’ moons 0’ Mars.”

“ Gh, I’ll do it, Billy; I’ll do it sure.”

“ See that you do. An’ now watch an’ see
me disappear in a cloud 0’ 1' fire an’ blue
smoke, au’ see if you don’t smell brimstone after
I’m gone.”

Skinny drew back with such an expression of
horror upon his face that Billy cou d play the
part no longer, but burst into a merry peal of
an hter.

be attenuated partner looked more surprised
than ever.

“ Sweet pertatersl Skinny, don’t ye know
that it is me, me yer pnrdner, me th‘ uncrushed
Will um 0’ Broadway, in all his native beauty
an’ e legance, un’ alive an’ in th’ best 0’ health?
Say, don’t ye know me? Do you really believe
in Spooks? Jest come nn’ grip enter me, 1111’ see
that I am real flesh an‘ blood. ’

The face of the thin partner was a study. He
was halting between two opinions. Was this
Billy,_or was it his ghost?

“ Ain’t you a ghost, Billy?” he innocently
asked.

Billy went off into a fit of laughing again.

“ Not half so much of a ghost as you are,
Skinny,” he answered.

" But we found yer body,” Skinny went on to
explain, “ an’ you have been buried.”

' his made Billy instantly sober.

“ You found my body!” he exclaimed.

“ Yes,” Skinny affirmed.

“ Vthre?”

“ It was found floa tin’ in th’ river.”

“ W hen '5”

“Only a few days ago.”

“ An’ ye thought it was mine?"

“ Sure. So did yer mom, an’ so did every-
body else.”

“ Then you an’ mom an' everybody else is
muchly mistaken, that is all,” cried Billy, stout-
ly. “This here body 0’ mine ain’t been found
in th’ river, as you go on ter tell it, fer it has
been with me all th’ time." .

“ Well, th’ other feller looked mighty like

on.”

“ 1 should say so. if it fooled my mom.”

“She was sure it was you,” Skinny averred,
now growing bolder, since he saw that this was
indeed Billy, and that there was a mistake out
somewhere; “ an’ so th’ body was buried as
yours, an’ a stone has been put up ter your
memory.”

“Sweet pertatersl”

“And, oh! but you did have just the gallus
send-off, Billy,” Skinny went on, enthusiastical-
ly. “ It would ’a’ done yer heart ood ter been
there. I tell ye I was proud of t ’ way it was
done. ’Most all of yer rich friends was out in

 

their carriages. nn’ it was about as tony a plant
as I ever seen."

“ Skinny, it is too bad, ain’t it,” observed
Billy, soberly.

“ What is too bad ’i” Skinny asked.

“ Why, ter think that I should come back an’
sp’ile th’ effect of sich a gOod send—off as you
describe.”

“ Well, I should say notl” cried Skinny, now
himself again; “ th‘ folks will all be mighty
glad ter see ye, I kin ’snre ye 0’ that.”

“ How did mom take it?’ Billy inquired.

“ Awful bad.”

“ So i' s‘pose, an’ I reckon 1 had better go
home ter once an’ see her—” S

“No you hadn‘t,”o posed kinny.

u ‘be g” p

“ ’Cause, she is abed by this time, an’ you
would scare her inter fits, th’ same as ye kem
almost servm’ me. You will (‘ome right along
home with me an’ stay till mornin’, an then my
mom kin go over an’ see her an’ prepare her fer
th’ sight of ye.”

“ Wise head 1” Billy complimented, )atting
his thin partner on the back. “It shall1 be as
you say. Lead on, me noble juke, an’ I will
foller thee.”

Together they started off, talking as fast as
they could make their jaws wag, each eager to
learn all that the other knew.

Skinny was anxious to know where Billy had
been, and ierhaps would have found out sooner
than he (II( had be not let out the fact that he
had been playing at detective work.

“What!” cried Billy, as soon as it was let
out, “you been playin’ detective! What have
you been tryin’ ter detect? You couldn’t detect
a house aflre.”

“ I couldn’t, eh?” retorted Skinny; “that
shows what you know about it. I have detect-
ed th’ men that put you out 0’ th’ way, an’ I kin
tell ye how they done it, too.”

“ Ohl get out, what are you tryin’ ter give
me? Come, now, how did they try ter dispose
0’ me? Answer that, an’ I’ll listen ter th’ rest 0’
yer tale.”

Skinny answered correctly
Broadway Billy was amazed.

CHAPTER XI.
BILLY’s PROPOSED PLAY.

“ SWEET pertatersl” Billy cried, “you have
hit it right Skinny, but how you got onter it is
more than I kin guess."

“ It was by the mere skin 0’ my teeth,” Skinny
assured.

" It must ’a’ been.”

“ Ye see, I was at th’ stand, an’ mom had jest
brought my supper. l was eatin’ with one
hand an’ tryin’ ier ’teiid ter biz with th’ other.
A t'cllcr kem along, looked at the drapin’s in a.
rather funny way—”

“ I don’t wonder at that,” Billy had to chip

enough, and

 

iii.

“ Hold yer head shut, will yel” Skinny ad-
monished.

“ Sui-tainly; 0 on.”

“ Well, th fel er stop ed looked around, an’
asked who was dead. Ftold him. Then I lie-
ticcd that he had a sort 0’ siicnkiii’ smile on his
ugly mug, an’ I didn’t like his looks at all.

“ ‘ What did he die of? sex he.

“ ‘ Not o‘ sol'tciiin’ o‘ the brain, aiiybOW,’ 502 I.

“ ‘ Mebby it was of too much smartiiess,’ sez
he, an’ then, with another of his hateful grins,
off he went.

“ I done some lightnin‘ quick tliinkiii’. It
popped inter my head that that l'eller kiiowed
somethin’ about th’ manner 0’ your takin’ off,
nn‘ 1 knowed that l mustn’t let him git out 0’
ltiny ,sight if I wanted ter know more about

ini. ’

“ Bully fer you!” cried Billy, who was eagerly
taking it in.

“ I told mom that l was goin’ after him, an’ I
dropped everything an’ was off More she could
say snuff. aveii’t seen ll(‘l‘ sence. Jest got
ba'ok horn ter see that she had locked every thing
up safe, an’ then was goin’ home.”

“ Skinny, you are a brick i" Billy com li-
niented. “ I didn’t think it was in ye, an’ t at
is a fack. When did th’ fever strike ye’i”

“ Neither did I,” Skinny answered, " an’ as
fer”th’ fever, that hit me jest as I have told

e.

“ But, go on nii’ finish vor tale.”

“ Yes. tm‘ be sure. Well, I follered that fel-
ler to his hole, got inter a hole under th’ house
myself, an’ heard all they had ter say; an‘
among other things they had a chin about th’
neat way they had disposed 0’ you.”

“ You done well, my lanky pardner, you done
tremenjus well; I couldn’t ’a’ done any better
myself. ’

 

 
    

‘r—Li»- ..

»..J-s‘r-s— 

e‘émgt." : r' .-

 

 

10

Broadway Billy’s Dead Act.

 

 

 

“ Humph! you couldn’t done it at all.”

“ What’s that?”

“ I say you couldn’t ’a’ done it at all.”

“ Oh, come now, Skinny, that is too good; I’d
like ter know th’ reason that I couldn’t ’a’ done

“ ’Cause ye couldn’t ’a’ got inter th’ hole that
I got inter.”

“ Might cute, ain’t ye; but, is that all ye
heard?’

“ Not by a bi heap it ain’t. Billy; I have 0t
th’ business en 0’ one 0’ th’ meanest rasca y
plots that ye ever dreamed about."

“ What is it?”

“ I was only wishin’ that I had you ter on-
Wind it to, when I was walkin’ along up here,
out of course I knowed that was useless, as you
was dead an’ buried; so I had ter do th’ next
best thing. I was goin’ home, let mom know
that I was alive, an’ then I was goin’ ter find
Detective Speare.”

“ You couldn’t done better.
he been lookin’ for me?”

“ You bet he has] Why, I reckon th’ hull
force is on th’ scent; but there ain’t any clew
fer ’em ter work on.”

“ That’s so. But go on with yer yarn.”

“ Well, it seems that this League 0’ Seven—”

“Sweet pertatersl thicker an’ more of it.”

“That’s ther gang. It seems that they have
been hired ter do a dirty piece 0’ work in which
there is ter be a little murder ter make it inter-
estin’. When the steamship Ocean Queen comes
in ter-morrer, a private yacht is ter meet her
down in the bay an’ take on board two passen-
gers—a young lady an’ her lover. When they
are comin’ up th’ bay, a tug is ter run inter ’em,
out th’ yacht in two, an’ th’ lover o’ the lady is
ter be drowned sure pop an’ no fail. That
means that he is ter be made ter drown, an -
how. But th’ young lady is ter be saved. If
any one else drowns, that will be accident, I
s’pOSe.”

“ Sweet pertaters an’ 'nger-snapsl” Broad-
way Billy exclaimed, as kinn concluded his
story, “that beats th’ merry utch. Skinny,
you are a he—hoss, you are, an’ there ain’t no
flies on you, nuther. Hereafter you are my
pardner in th’ hull business, detective—agency
an’ all.”

“ That is all right, Bill ; but how about this
case? What are we goin ter do ter block it? I
am all in a fever over it.”

“That won’t do, Skinny; you want ter keep
cool. Now you jest trust this thing ter me, an’
I will nip it in th’ bud or my name is mud.”

“ It is nothin’ ter fool about.”

“ An’ who is foolin’ about it?”

“ You are.”

“ Git out; I was never more in earnest in my
life. How do you make out that I am foolin’
about it?”

“’Cause, you’re tryin’ ter make polt out of
it, with yer hip in th’ bud or yer name is mud."

Billy laughed.

“ I didn’t mean ter do it, Skinny, an’ that is a
tack,” he declared. “ I hope on will forgive
me, an’ not take no offense. ith all my other
faults, I don’t want ter have it said 0’ me that I
was a pole.”

“ Billy, 1 don’t think this is no time bar be
foolin’,” Skinny protested. “ A big deal 0’
rascally work is on hand, an’ we are th’ only
ones that knows anything about it. If we don’t
do our duty we will be almost as guilty as th‘
real rascals.”

“ Golly, but th’ fever has got bolt 0’ you had,
Skinny, an' no mistake. You have all th’
simptums of a serious attack. Th’ last thing in
th’ world that I would ’a’ thought would happen
ter you. 'What you say, though, is sound as a
dollar, an’ if you ketch me a—foolin’ about it, let
me know.”

“ \Vhat are ya doin’ now but foolin’? Yen
ain’t layin’ no plans ter stop ’em from doin’ th‘
deed.”

“ Ain’t I? That proves that you don’t know
what is goin’ on in my thinker. I have th’ plan
all laid out.”

“ You have i”

“ You bet I have. It don’t take me forever
ter make a deal 0’ this kind. I have resources
that e wot not of. me skeleton friend.”

“ am disgusted with ye,” Skinny fired out
hotly. ' “Ter think that you will take a serious
thing like this in such a c001 manner. Don’t you
see It. is life or death? I will go ter-morrer
mornin’, th’ fu’st thing, an’ put it inter th’ hands
0’ th’ perlice, that is what I will do, an’ be
hanged tor you.”

“ There, there, fatty, don’t git so r’iled up
about it. You are hanged ter me already, an’

on won’t do no sich thing. Say. did ye ever

ow yer pardner ter lie to ye, when th’ truth

By th’ way, has

 

i

would answer jest as well? I reckon not.
Haven’t I told ye that I would take bolt 0’ th’
case an’ see to it that th’ fellers was fetched up
with a round turn an’ a short jerk? What more
d’ye want?”

“ But are ye sure ye kin do it?”

“ Skinny, I kin do anything. You an’ me
will be on hand at that perposed collision ter-
inorrer, an’ if that tug don’t go ter th’ bottom 0’
th’ buy you kin take me over tor Jersey an’ set
me up fer ’skeeter-bait, that is all.”

“ But how will ye do it?”

“ Pardner, listen tor me: How (l’ye suppose I
got saved when they took me an’ dumped me in-
ter th’ bay at midnight, all done up in a bag an’
a stone tied ter my feet? Kin ye see any way
out 0’ sich a ditfikilty?”

“No, Billy, I can’t.”

“Neither could I. I thought my name was
Dennis, with a big D. But you see I did git
out of it all the same, though it wasn’t none 0’
my own doin’s; an’ here I be, all ready an’ ripe
for another state 0’ tribulation.”

“ But how was ye saved?"

“ There, now you are gettin’ rational ag’in.
I’ll tell ye all about it, if you will lend me yer
cars. I want both of ’em, fer one won’t do. It
wouldn’t begin tor hold all 0’ th’ strange tale
that I have ter onwind ter you.”

“ Well, go ahead.”

“ Prezacl 1y. Well, I went down ter th’ bot-
tom—kcrchunkl an’ that was th’ last that I
knowed till I made my dayboo ag’in. When I
kem to I was in th’ queerest little cubby-liole
that you ever see’d. I didn’t know where I was.
By an’ by a feller comes in where I was, an’ be
told me all about it. I was aboard the Pirogue,
that boat that goes under water. You have
heard about her.”

“ Oh! come, now, Billy, that won’t go down,”
Skinny protested.

“ It won’t eh? Kin ye suggest any other way
that I could been saved from a watery grave?”

“ No; but ter think—”

“ Don’t on do no thinkin’ about it. but jest
in yer faith onter what I tell ye. I wouldn’t
ie ter ye fer a dollar, Skinny, an’ you orter

know me by this time.”

“ I know that you are a humbiig.”

“ Thank ye, fatty; but you are interruptin’
me. I was about to tell ye all about it. It
seems that when I went down I fell right on th’
top 0’ that under-water craft, an’ startled th’
inmates ’most ter death. They hurried out ter
see what had hit ’em, an’ there they found me.
They took me in, pumped th’ water out 0’ me,
set machinery ter goin’ ag’in, an’ I was soon all

right.”
‘ Then why didn’t ye let us hear from ye?”

“’Cause I was carried off ter Philadelphia.
Oh, I tell ye, Skinny, I have had jest a boss ex-
cursion, an’ no mistake. You wouldn’t hardly
believe it if I told you all about it.”

“ I guess you‘re right. You are rubbin’ it on
party strong, an’ that is a far-k.”

“ Neverth’less, my gay an’ festive rooster, it
is th‘ truth, th’ whole truth, an’ nothin’ but th’
truth.”

“ Well, I’ll have ter take yer word for it, an’
Iam glad ter have ye back anyhow. But all
this don’t solve th’ riddle of how tor save that
smash ter-morrer.”

“ Sweet pertatersl Skinny, yer head is thick-
er’n mud. Don’t you se-a inter th’ trick? We
will go an’ git tli captain 0’ the’ Porgy—hold
on, I mean the Pirogue—ter take a hand in
th’ game; an’ if that tug don’t git knocked
clean out 0’ th’ water, you kin sell my head for
cabbage.”

“ Great ginger!”

“ What do you think 0’ that?”

“Billy, are you in earnest, or be ye foolin?”
Skinny Seriously asked.

“ Skinny, I was never more in earnest in my
life," Billy promptly answered. “ What I have
told ye is jest th’ solid truth, an’ th’ ca tain
of th’ Pirogue is jest th’ feller ter ta e a
hand in th’ game. As for Charles, he will go
wild over it, an’ th’ old gentleman will chip
right in with ’em. There will be fun tor-mor-
rteli", Skinny, an’ you kin jest bet yer boots on
1

CHAPTER XII.
THE COUNTERPLOT.

BROADWAY BILLY went home with Skinny,
as had been agreed upon, and Skinny’s mother
was almost frightened out of her senses at sight
of him.

It took some time to convince her that he was
not a ghost.

Next morning she went over to Billy’s home
to carry the good news to his sorrowing mother.

Mrs. Weston would not believe it at all.

,. .al, I >'.'",._..'. , ., 3-5.
37- .1-:1i’.',-‘~'r¢,li~;fi‘fldx-I‘ ' I

w

 

      

It had been agreed that Billy and Skinny
should come on half an hour after Skinny 8
mother, and when the time was up they started.

Billy entered the room with a cheery “ Ilello!
mom, how’s things?” and that of course ('on-
vinced the woman that she had been mistaken
in her identity of the (lend boy,

However her eyes had deceived her then, they
could not fool her now, and with a scream of
joy she sprung forward and clasped Billy to her
breast.

It was an affecting meeting.

Mrs. Weston did not want Billy to go out of
the house all day; she wanted him right by her
side.

But Billy‘could not agree to that.

“ Sweet pertatcrsl mom, it can’t he did l” he
exclaimed. “ It can’t be did nohow. Why, a
human life, an’ mebby more’n one, depends on
my bein’ in th’ harness tor—day. I’d like ter be
with ye, but there’s no use thinkin’ about it.
Afterward, though, I’ll give ye one whole day
all tor yerself.”

’l‘ho objections of the two women were serious
and strong, but the boys were determined, and
nothing could turn them.

When they set out from the house it was to
go to the pier where the Pirogne was anchored.

It hail been arranged that the two mothers
should take charge of the business of the cor—
ner-stand for the day.

When the boy‘s arrived at the pier, they found
a great crowd there, all looking at the strange
boat, or the litlle that could be seen of her.

Captain Daunton happened to be standing on
the end of the pier, and they were about to
move the boat out to the middle of the river.

“ Hello! my young friend I” he exclaimed, at
sight of Billy, "you are just in time, for we
are about to go out into the river. We find that
we are drawing too much of a crowd here.
Will you go aboard “.6”

“ Yes,"answerud Billy, “ for we have come to
see you on important business. This is my
partner. Mebbe you kin see him without th’
aid 0’ glasses as th’ light is good this mornin’.”

The crowd laughed. and the captain of the
Pirogue had to smile.

“ 0h! he is plainly visible to the naked eye,”
he returned.

“ Shall we go right aboard?” Billy asked.

“Yes; go right down inside,” was the an-
swer, “and I will be with you in a few mo-
ments, just as soon as I cast off these ropes.”

Skinny hung back a little, as though he did
not care to trust himself into the mysterious-
looking thing.

“ Come right on, pardner,” Billy called out,
as he descended the rope-ladder that hung from
the end of the pier, “ there is nothin’ ter harm
ye, an’ it is as safe as a house. In case we
should git stuck in th’ and, we kin pull out one
of th’ bolts, and you kin evaporate through th’
hole. Come right on.”

Willing to escape from the laughter of the
crowd in any direction, Skinny bolstered up his
courage and followed his partner down the
ladder, and on down into the body of the
boat.

But he was trembling in his shoes as he did
so.
Mr. Dannton and his younger son met them
at the bottom of the few steps, and Billy was
greeted warmly and heartily.

“ Allow me ter interdoose my thin partner,”
Billy said. “He was visible out there in th’
sunlight, an’ if you look purty sharp mebby you
might see him now. His name is Skinny.
Skinny this is Mr. Daunton, and this is his son
Charles. Make your bow.”

Skinny could have choked Billy with a good
will, but he took it all in as good grace as
possible.

Mr. Daunton and Charles laughed, of course,
but they gave the thin boy such a hearty recep-
tion that he felt at home at once.

In a few moments Captain Daunton came
down, the opening in the top of the boat was
closed, and the machinery was set in motion.

Skinny fairly held his breath.

This was something so entirely new to him
that he hardly knew whether he was asleep or
awake. He was inclined to think that he was
dreaming. .

“Hold yer breath, now, rtner,” Billy cau-
tioned. “fer we are goin’ rig t down among th’
little fishes. D'ye hear th’ machinery in motion?
An’ do ye feel th’ sensation o’ sinkin’? We are
on our way ter see Davy Jones.”

“Hadn’t we better head for the bay?” Mr.
Daunton asked of the captain.

“J net as you say.” was the agreement.

“I think we had.”

The captain touched a bell, giving a signal to

 

 

 

    
 

 

Broadway Billy’s Dead Act.

11

 

his brother, and the machinery was immediately
put into another motion.

“ Away we go,” cried Billy; “ an’ now if you
want ter look out, Skinny, jest git up there
aside th’ captain.”

“Yes, go right up, my lad,” said Mr. Dann-
ton, “ and see what you can. It will be worth
something to you.”

Skinny ventured to obey, and as he looked out
ahead and around, his eyes opened until they
had the appearance of saucers.

“ What d’ye think of it?” Billy demanded.
“ Was I tellin’ ye any lie?”

“ I guess ye wasn’t,” the thin partner man-
aged to say. “ It is jest ahead 0’ wonderful.”

“ Well, I should say so, Billy agreed.

The boat was held on its course until it ar-
rived down in the middle of the bay somewhere,
and there it was stopped and allowed to rest up-
on the bottom.

“ Here we are,” cried Billy, as he laid hold of
Skinny and gave him a shaking, just to amuse
himself and show how frisky he felt, "‘an’ this
is th’ craft that will do th’ business fer that 'Lug
tor-day, an’ don’t you forgit it.”

“ What is that?” inquired Mr. Daunton.

“ I was speakin’ ter fatty here about th’ busi-
ness that I said I wanted ter see you on, sir,”
Billy explained. “ As soon as th’ others kin
give me their attention, too, I will onwind th’
story to all of ye.”

" All right: but what do you mean by doing
the business for a tug?”

“ That is part of th’ skeem,” Billy answered.
“There is a tug that has got ter be lifted high
an’ dry out 0’ th’ bay, ter~day, in order ter
save a life. But, here‘s th’ captain nn’ th’
engineer, an’ now I’ll give ya th’ whole thing
as straight as a strin .”

They all sat down, and Billy went ahead.

“ My pardner here," he commenced, “ has
been tryin’ his hand at detective work in my
absence, an’ has made a big success of it. He
got on ter a clew ter th’ tellers that done me up,
an’ tracked ’em ter their den. Then he got
under their crib an’ heard all that they had
ter say about th’ case, an’ more besides. It
seems that they are up ter a bad game, an’
one that has got ter be nipped in th’ bud or
it will cost one life, an’ mebby a good many
more.”

“ Boy, you astonish me,” declared Mr. Dunn-
ton.
“ It is enough ter astonish anybody, sir.”

“ Go on and let us hear the rest of it.”

“ Well, th’ thing in short meter is this: Th’
steamship, Ocean Queen, is ter arrive here ter-
day. A pleasure yacht is ter meet her an’ take
off two passengers. One passenger is a young
lady, an’ th’ other is a man, th’ intended hus-
band of th’ lady. A tug has been hired ter run
th’ yacht down in th’ bay, an’ sink her. Th’
young lady is ter be saved, but th’ plot is that
th’ man is ter be drowned. That is for say, he
is ter be murdered.”

“ Horrible l"

“ Wal, ruther, I should say.”

“ A score of lives will be endangered.”

“Jest so; an’ it will be lucky if they don’t
drown more than they want ter. I tell ye it is
tn’ dirtiest skeein that I have got on ter in some
time.”

“ Well, what is it you want us to do?” in-
quired Captain Dannton.

“True enough.” Supplemented Mr. Daunton,
“ this is a clear case for the police to deal with.”

“ An‘ mebby let ’em make a mess of it,” oh-
jected Billy. “ Th" perlice ain’t by no means
perfect,” he went on, “ an’ th’ surest way that 1
could think of tar block th’ game an’ nip it right
In th’ bud, was ter come te!‘ you an’ get you tor
be on hand an’ run th’ tug dowu. That would

' save th’ disaster, an’ then, after that, th’ per-

lice kin take bolt 0’ th’ case an’ bring th’ plot,—
ters ter account.”

“Iagree with the boy entirely,” spoke up
Charles, the younger brother. “ We can take
care of that tug, and see that no harm is
done to the yacht, and thus do what the po-
lice might make a failure of.”

“Kerrect,” chimed in Billy.

“ Why not take steps to warn the captain of
the yacht to look out for the danger?” suggested
Mr. Dannton.

“ Sweet pertaters!” cried Billy, “you don’t
git on ter th’ case yet, sir. The captain of th’
yacht is as deep in th’ mud as the other one is
in th’ mire. Ain’t that so, Skinny?”

“ Sure thing,” Skinny supported.

“Worse and worse,” interpolated Captain
Dannton. “ They will makea sure thing of it
unless some effective step is taken to balk
them.”

“ Of course they will,” urged Charles; “ and I

 

.) .) M4), “Anni e, u,

think it is our duty to take the matter in hand.
Don’t you think so, father?”

“ Well, I don’t know but you are right, boy,”
the father admitted, “ for we can make a sure
job of it, where a boat on the surface might
make an utter mess of the whole thing.”

“ An’ will ye try it?” asked Billy, eagerly.

“ Yes, we will take it in hand.”

“Good! Bully fer you I”

“ I sup ose there is no mistake about this, is
there?”  Dannton inquired.

“Speak up, Skinny,” directed Billy, “ speak
up an’ give us th’ fucks.”

“ There is no chance for a mistake about it,
sir,” declared Skinny, “ onless they change
their minds, an’ that ain’t very likely, from th’
way they was talkin’ last night. It is ter be
done, an’all th’ plans is arranged.”

“That is all I want to know. Do you know
the name of the tug?”

u N”, sin”

“ We do not need to know that,” put in Cap-
tain Dannton. “ We will follow the yacht, and
can ieadily tell if any tug bears down upon her
with evil intent.”

So it was arranged, and Broadway Billy and
his thin partner wcl‘c happy to think that they
had secured such valuable aid.

CZ'lA P'l‘l‘llt XIII.
A SCENE or DANGER.

IT was the forenoon ot‘ a lovely day, and
everything was bright and pleasant.

Just such a day it was as one would choose
for a day of pleasure on the water.

At about ten O’clock two carriages drew up in
front of the residence of Lady St. Gerome
IIamptdcii.

A man ulighted from the first one, run lightly
up the steps to the door, and was promptly ad-
mitted.

It was Bertrand \Vellingford.

Mrs. Hamptden was ready to receive him.

“Did you think that I was not coming?” he
asked.

“ Not at all,” was the quiet response, “though
we have been ready these two hours. Iknow
that you are a man of your word, and one who
has never failed me yet.”

“ Thank you,” with a bow, “ you pay me an
undeserved compliment.”

“ Not at all. Well, are you ready for us?”

“ Yes; the Ocean Queen has been sighted, and
will be at Sandy Hook this afternoon.”

“ That is good. I am glad to know that she
will be here before night. Is the yacht ready to
receive us?”

“ Everything is ready, Lady Hamptden.”

“Then we will go down and get aboard at
once, if that is your plan."

“ It is.”

The party, consisting of Lady Hamptden, six
other ladies, and two gentlemen, left the house
and entered the carriages, and were driven rap-
idly away.

Bertrand \Vellingford was with them.

Now that we can have another good look at
him, tin-re need be no further doubt concerning
his identity.

He and Captain Iron-grip were one and the
same person.

Good-looking, faultlessly dressed, manly in
appearance, who would have suspected him of
being such a villain at heart!

But a rascal he was, as we need not say.

And a deep, dark scheme he had in mind.

Regina Hamptden, Lady Hamphlen’s only
child, had been abroad to complete her educa—
tion. Lady Hamptden had been for many years
a widow, and being an American by birth, had
returned to her native land after the death of
herhusband. She was very rich, and her daugh-
ter, too, was immensely rich in her own right.

While abroad, the daughter had made the ac—
quaintance of one Alfred Hamptden, related to
her as second cousin, and the pair had fallen in
love with each other. That love hid run into
an engagement, and he was coming home to
make her his wife. ,

Lady Hamptden was aware of this. of course,
and the proposed marriage met with her ap-

 

proval.

Bertrand \Vellingford, tdo, was related to the
family in some remote way, but he was not by
any means rich, as has been already said of
him. But he was on the outlook for Wealth,
and had his eye upon Regina Hamptden as the
shortest road to that desired goal that came un-
der his notice.

He was from England, where he had made
the acquaintance of the young lady, and had
fallen in love with her, if his greedy desire ad-
mitted of love in its make-up. He had bean
acting in a measure as Mrs. Hamptden’s agent,

'\
.I

 ‘-  ma.  "fighi'itfé‘cA‘J‘wg '  34,;

v.”

 

and had thus come to know much of her busi-
ness.

He saw Regina in the steppingsstone to the very
position in life that he coveted, and immediately
began to plan to win her hand in marriage.

Butit was a dubious outlook. He was older
than she, quite a good deal older, too; and as
she had plenty of wealth while he had none, the
chances for his winning her were slim indeed.

The next and greatest obstacle that came in
the way was a favored lover. This was Alfred
Ha niptdeii.

Wellingford triedonce to put him out of his
path, but made a failure of it, and as the police
of London were hot after him, he set out for
New York.

In London he had held a position Very similar
to the one in which we find him in New York,
and was, really, a “crook ” of the first water.
Had it been known, more than one neat bank
burglary might have been traced to his door.

And this was the rascal who was plotting to
harm the woman who had always been his
friend, and who was planning to dispose of the
daughter’s intended husband, in order once
more to Clear the field for himself.

After he had come to New York, he had come
to know Indy Hamptdo-n personally, and by
showing illnlsl‘lf at his best before hor, and a _
parently letting her read him like an open boo *,
to see for herself that he was, though poor, a.
man of honor and gentleman born, had Won her
regard. _

t was this card that herelied on to wm flnall
the consent of the mother to a marriage wit 1
the daughter.

A sad accident would occur, the intended hus—
band would be drowned, lie—\Vellingford—
would savo the life of Regina, and would for—
ever stand high in the favor of both mother and
daughter. From that point it would be but a
step to the position of son-in-law, cyen though
he was old enough to be the girl’s father.

The reader can now fully understand the vil-
lainous i'ascal’s plans, and see that he was dese
perate enough not to stop at any crime in order
to come out successful in the end.

When the party arrived at the pier Where tho
steam yacht was awaiting them, Lady Hampt-
den was delighted.

“ This is charming l” she exclaimed, as she
stepped aboard. “ Bertrand, you have my en—
tire approval and heartiest thanks.”

Th'e villain bowed.

“I could not be more richly rewarded,” he
said, humbly.

Smart as he thought himself to be, the fellow
was blind in one respect. It might not have
been an impossibility for him to have won the
hand of Lady Hamptden, perhaps. But he may
have seen the chance and purposely passed it by,
preferring to risk all upon the daughter. This
is only a speculation.

The whole party was delighted.

The steam yacht was indeed a beauty, one
that Wellingford had secured by the increst
chance, and it was handsomely furnished and
equipped.

Everything that Could be desired was there,
and it was with high spirits that the party start-
ed out into the river and down toward the bay.

 

It was in the afternoon, and the majestic
steamship, Ocean Queen, caino steaming grace-
fully over the bar at Sandy Hook, and into the
lower bay.

Many passengers crowded her deck, and all
seemed light-hearted and joyous and full of hap-
py anticipatious. _

Among them were two in whom we have an
especial interest.

These were a young lady and her companion,
a gentleman who seemed about five or six years
her senior.

They Were standing close together, leaning
over the rail, and the young lady had a pair of
glasses in her hand. .

She was a beautiful girl, about twenty years
of age, and was richly, though plainly attired.
She was talking to her companion in an ani-
mated mannflf, menus the glasses to him fre-
quently and directing his attention to some fa—
miliar object, telling him what each was.

He was, perhaps, twenty-six years old, was

ood-looking, and was blessed with a sound,
healthy, and well—pro ortioned body. He was
sun—browned, had a andsome mustache. and
looked more like an American than EDI-€135}!-
man. He Certainly had none of the nonsensical
“m’lord” airs about him,but was plain and
practical in everything.

Near by was the young lady’s maid. and an
elderly lady who was eVide'ntly her duenna.

Boats of various sorts were movmg here and

  
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
   
  
   
   
  
  
   
 
 
    
   
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
   
 
 
 
  
   
  
  
  
   
  
   
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
   
 
      
         
          
      
 

 
  
 

 

 

«s J's . s.

12

 

Broadway Billy’s Dead Act.

 

 

 

there about the bay, but little attention was
paid to any of them until at last one. a pretty
pleasure yacht, which looked like a mere toy
dancing upon the waves, came nearer than the
others, and held on its way directly toward the
great leviathan.

The youn man was the first of the two to
notice it, ang he called the attention of his com-
panion to it.

The young lady brought her glass to bear up-
on the yacht, and in a moment she uttered a
joyful exclamation.

“ I see my name upon the yacht!” she cried;
and instantly she began to wave her handker-
chief in a most frantic manner.

There was an instant response from the yacht,

where sevoral handkerchiets were seen utter-
ing as wildly. _
I At about the same time the yacht was sig-
naled to the steamship, and then the desires of
the persons on the yacht were made known in
the true nautical fashion.

The request was granted; the steamer stoppled,
the yacht drew alongside, and in due time iss
Regina Hamptden and Alfred Hamptden, with
their servants, Were transferred.

As soon as this was effected the yacht drew
away, and the steamer continued on her course,
amid the loud cheering of all on board.

The meeting between the mother and daugh-
ter can be imagined. It was assuredly a happy
one.

There was a great kissing time among the
ladies, as is ever the case, and the gentlemen
did their part by shaking hands with everybody
and with one another.

There were none of Captain Iron-gri ’8 men
on board. The arrangement last arriv at was
that two of them should be on board the tug.
but none on the yacht. It had been found that
it could not be well carried out in any other
manner. Their resonce on board the acht
would have he to be explained to ady
Ham tden, which would have been awkward
for ellingford.

As it was, there was nothing to be questioned,
and nothing that could attach suspicion to him,
or to the yacht’s captain.

A tempting repast was already spread, and in
ashort time the company were seated around
the table, which, by the way, was on the upper
deck under the awning.

It was a joyous party, and one that well knew
how to make merry the hour. No limit was
upon the chattering tongues of the ladies, and
the gentlemen ha all they Could do to hold
their own with them, they being in the minor-

ty.

Wellingford was at his best, and certainly did
credit to the occasion, as he well knew how to
do. He was, as he has been descr;bod, an easy
and fluent talker, and in some manner the whole
affair seemed to hinge upon him, though he
could not be said to put himself forward.

All was going merrily on, and the yacht was
pushing along at good speed, when suddenly her
whistle screamed out a signal that caused the
ladies to give a start.

They were not far from the eastern shore,
and about opposite the northern end of Staten
Island.

A whistle was heard in answer, and a tug was
seen coming in the opposite direction. Present-
ly the tug sounded another signal, and suddenly
changed her course.

There was imminent danger of a collision.

The yacht whistled a sharp signal of warning,
and changer] her course, and at the same instant
the tug swerved back to the old course. Sharp
signals Were heard on both sides, and in a mo-
ment more it was seen that a collision could not
be avoided. The scene on the yacht was in-
stantly changed from one of pleasure to one of
wild confusion.

CHAPTER XIV.
THE PIROGUE ON HAND.

BROADWAY BILLY and Skinny were happy
when the Pirogue rose to the surface to remain
there and lie in wait for the pleasure yacht.

This began to look like business, and the
worry that had been upon Skinny’s mind was in
a measure removed.

And he had got Well over his fears, too.

Now he could enjoy the strange boat as well
as Billy, and he did enjoy it to the full extent of
his capabilities, too.

“ Well, what ye thinkin’ about, Skinny?”
Billy asked, when Skinny had sat for some time
in Silence, looking out through the small win-
dows across the snrfnce of the water.

The upper part of the boat was just out of the

3553? , . ‘ ,J ‘
""Wawfiwwrmvw a M

 

water, and no more, and the little wind0ws were
on a level with the surface.

“ I was wonderin’ whether this boat could go
across th’ ocean,” Skinny made known.

“Sweet pertaters!” exclaimed Billy, “ I didn’t
think you was of big enough caliber ter have a
thought as broad as that.”

“ I am a deep thinker,” Skinny rewrtcd, pay-
ing back in the same coin.

“So I see, now that I am aware of the fuck,”
Billy still piled on.

“ And my ideas is broad, too,” Skinny tired
again. “ But,” he added, “ that don’t give any
solution of th’ problem that I had in mind.”

“ Been feedin’ on dictionary again, have ye,”
taunted Billy. “ I see I’ll have ter study up, or
I soon won’t be able ter converso with ye at all.
What was th’ problem that ye was rasslin’
with?”

“ Whether this thing could cross th’ ocean.”

“ That is ter be tested ” Billy explained, hav-
ing now had his fling. ‘ They are goin’ ter set
out ”in a short time an’ try ter make th’ voy-
a re.

5“ And if we do,” Mr. Daunton here broke into
the conversation, " the manner of ocean travel
will be revolutionized, and our names will be
immortalized. I am eager for the trial.”

“ I would like to go with ye,” declared Billy.
“ I bet it will be a glorious trip.”

“ We could not consent to take you,” was the
answer. “ We will be taking our lives in our
own hands, with the chances against us, I am
afraid. There are a thousand dangers to be en-
countered that we know nothing about now,
and a very little thing may leave us helpless at
the bottom of the sea. No, we will take no
one with us.”

“ It will be risky, and no mistake,” Billy
owned, “ but I believe I would be willin’ ter
take my chances with th’ rest of ye. More’n all
that, I begin ter believe that I was born ter die
of old age, an’ my presence aboard might bring
ye through all right. Jest keep it in mind an’—
Hello, l there comes a steam yacht, sure as I am
here. ’

“Let me see," said the captain, and Billy
quickly got down to give him room in the small
pilot-house.

“ Yes, so it is,” Captain Daunton agreed, as
soon as he got sight of the boat, “ and it is
heading down the bay.”

“ We ought to know the name of the one we
are to look for,” observed Mr. Daunton.

“ That is true,” agreed Charles, “ but since we
do not, we must do the next best thing.”

“ And that,” completed the captain, “is to
follow the first yacht that comes along, which is
this one.”

“ You have hit it square,” chimed in Billy.

“ Well,” said Mr. Daunton, “let us go under
and follow her then.”

The air-ports were closed, and in a short time
the Pirogue was beneath the ancs, and hear-
ing away toward the course in which the yacht
was approaching.

There were p ates of glass in the top of the
pilot-house, as well as in the sides, so that
objects overhead could be seen as well as those
around.

In due time the Pirogue came up with the
yacht, and the captain made the announce-
ment.

“ That is good,” said Mr. Daunton. “Now
keep her in sight, and be on the lookout for the
tug." '

“ The tug will not be seen till on th’ return
trip.” Billy reminded.

“ True enough. Well, keep your eyes well
about you, James.”

That the captain promised to do, and so they
pushed on down the bay, the mysterious boat
now gliding along right under the bottom of the
yacht, regulating its speed so as to keep that
position.

Finally the yacht came to a stop, and the
Pirogue did the same.

Then there was a wait, during which some of
those on the yacht employed the time in fishing.
It is perhaps needless to add that they did not
catch anything.

\Vhen the yacht moved on, the Pirogue was
not long in taking her place beneath her, and in
this manner continued on in her company.

Finally, not far away, the monster hull of an
ocean steamer was seen. and the yacht came to
a stop once more, and then the shouting from
the latter was heard, though the words could
not be distinguished.

When the yacht moved again, it was to
draw alongside the steamer, and the Pirogue
zhenkknew positively that she was on the right

rac .

When the monster and tiny boats drew apart,

' the submarinecrai’t held her place under the

 

latter, and continued with her on her return up
the bay.

Now and again the merry laughter aboard
the yacht would reach the ears of those on
board the Pirogue, but otherwise the silence was
unbroken save by the rattle of the machinery
and an occasional exchange of words.

Broadway Billy was in the pilot’s lookout
with Captain Daunton, and Skinny was with
Charles in the apartment where the engines
were managed.

As all were eagerly waiting for the crisis now,
but little was said among them.

The captain kept his father posted on every-
thing, and now and then passed a word with his
brother.

“ Charles!” he presently spoke, when they had
been gliding along for some time, and the tug,
it one was to appear, was to be expected at any
moment.

“ Ay!” the younger brother responded.

“ I think I see another boat approaching now.
Be ready to give instant attention to my sig-
nals.”

“ Depend on me for that,” was the response.

Charles was eager for the time for action to
come, and there was no danger that he would be
found wanting when it arrived.

It was now at hand.

Captain Daunton did not take his eyes off the
tug scarcely, except to kee his accustomed
lookout for obstacles ahead; or a tug he had
soon made it out to be.

Every point was quickly transmitted to the
others.

Nearer and nearer the tug and acht drew to
each other, and then were eard t eir signals.

“ That is it!” cried Skinny, unable to contain
himself, “ that is jest th’ way th’ rascals plotted
t 3

“ Silence!” Mr.
“ no talking now.”

This was necessary, for some vital word from
the captain to the engineer might be misunder-
stood, and a failure made of the whole thing
right at the critical moment.

Captain Daunton’s si nals were clear and
sharp, and they were 0 .yed with aquicknea
that was hardly to be be credited.

The crisis was at hand.

The 'Pirogue made a sudden sto : it backed
a little; its prow rose to an angle of a most forty-
flve degrees: it stood thus for a moment,
trembling, it seemed; then it gave a sudden
turn to t 6 left and shot upward.

All within the wonderful craft were holding
fast to something, and in a second a shock was
felt that would otherwise have knocked them to
the floor.

It was all over, and the collision had been
averted.

Let us return to the yncht.

The scene there has been described as one of
wild confusion. Such it assuredly was. It
looked as though nothing could avert the calam-
ity that was about to come upon them.

Nor could it have been averted, save the
timely interposition of the Pircgue.

Just when the crash was looked for the next
moment, there aroso out of the water a blue-
bluck, shining object, great in size, interposing
its body between the two crafts, and striking
the tug a sharp blow on one side near the prow
that turned it completely around, and almost
caused it to go to the bottom.

, What had happened no one could realize.

Those in the plot were both frightened and
puzzled, while the others were grateful and
mystified.

What could be the thing that had so suddenly
put in its appearance and, on the one hand frus-
trated their scheme: on the other, saved them
from so great a disaster?

“ A whale!”

“The sea-serpent!”

Such were the cries that were instantly heard.

No one guessed the truth.

The tug soon recovered from the shock, right-
ed, and, having no further excuse to come near
the yacht, steamed rapidly away, and the yacht
resumed her course.

Bertrand Wellincford was white with rage, a
rn go which he had to choke down and smother,
though he did give some vent to it in an attack
upon the pilot of the yacht.

“ Yen, sir!” he cried out, “what do you mean
by such work as that? Do you not know your
business? You came near drowning us all.”

“ Not my fault, sir.” the man answered; “you

Daunton ordered sternly;

saw how it was. That fellow must be drunk. '

He paid no attention to my signals.”
“ I will talk with you about it later,” Welling.
ford said, and thus he closed the matter for the

   

 

 

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‘ the city, for they returned immediately], as

 

,, time. He did not want to say too much in the

presence of the Others.

The party sat down at the table again, but
their pleasure had been marred, and they did
not again enter upon the full enjoyment of the
v0 age.

hen the yacht arrived at the pier, and they
landed, they drew a breath of relief, and no
doubt each felt thankful that it was over.

When they reached the residence of Lady
Hamptdon, however, their spirits rose again,
and the evening was pleasantly passed.

Wellingford was the best feature of the occa-
sion. He helped everybody and everything
over the rough places, and when he took his
leave he was missed.

He had certainly made an impression upon
both the mother and daughter that they could
not soon forget.

What if his plot had been a success? But,
then tee occasion would have been a far dif-
ferent one.

 

CHAPTER XV.
srananmo THE NET.

“ Swmrr pertatersl”

Broadway Billy’s lpet exclamation, and it
came out with nausea force when the shock of
the collision was felt.

“ I thought we was goin’ ter bu’st right
through ’em," he observed.

“ No, I did not intend to do that,” explained
the captain; “I merely wanted to ward them
off. I guess I came near swamping the tug,
thoufzh. ’

“ should say you did. I guess they thought
the lightnin’ had struck ’em.”

“ Or an earthquake had bucked up under
them."

It did not take many moments to bring the
Pirogue back to her proper position, and then
those on board looked around to see the result of
their work.

-They saw that they had turned the tug about,
and as they looked t ey saw it steam away. A
little later the yacht resumed her course.

“ That settles the case for the resent.” to-
marked Captain Daunton, “ and lpflatter m -
self that we have done a good stroke of wor .
We have saved several lives, and have done no
damage to anybod or anything.”

“It was a mig ty good stroke 1” exclaimed
Billy. “ I knowed you could do it, an’ I told
Skinny you could. Th’ perlice couldn’t done
half as well. I bet my suspenders there was a
surprised lot 0’ folks aboard them two boats.”

“ Well, rather, I should as .”

Their neat stroke of wor gave them plenty
of material for conversation all the way back to
Billy wanted to get ashore as soon as be con .

The Pirogue carried them to New Pier 1, and
there they took their leave of their new friends.

Billy and his partner had made agood impres-
sion upon Mr. Daunton and his two sons, and
their parting was with as many kindly words as
Billy’s first parting had brought forth.

Standing on the end of the pier, they watched
the Pirogue as it sunk under water, and they
have not seen nor heard from it since.

“ Well, my gay an’ festive shadder,” Billy re
marked, as the two boys set out for Broadway,
“what do you think 0 this world, anyhow?”

“ I would like ter know fer sure whether I am
awake or dreamiu’,” was the sober response.

“ Ye would, eh? Shall I stick a pin in ye an’
try ye, like mom tries bread ter see when it’s

v done?”

“ No, ye needn’t go ter that trouble, Billy; if
youtsgy I am awake, why, I’ll take yer word
or 1 .

“ Well. I reckon that ye are, Skinny.”

“ But don’t it beat everything!” _

“ Skinny, it beats patent medicine, an’ 15h!

' thing that kin beat that is at th’ head o’th’

class. You kin set thatdowu as a fack. But,
pardner, I have been thinkin’.”
“ That so?”
“ Fack.”
“ Well, what ye been thinkin’?”
“ I have been thinkin’ that our work ain’t
half done yet.”
“I know that as well as you do. We have
t ter have that Sworn Seven scooped in, an’
ve ’venge on 'em fer what they done to you.”
“ Yes. you kin bet yer life that we will do

‘ that; but there is another p’int that has got tor

be Icoked after.”

“ What’s that!”

“ Why. don’t ye see that th’ captain of th‘
Seven will econ try some other way ter put that
man out 0’ th’ world? Au’ here we are without

 

 

a single clew as ter who he is. Somethin‘ has
got ter be done.”

“ We will soon find out who he is.”

“ How d’ye make that out?”

“ Why, th’ news 0’ that kerlission will be in
th’ papers, an’ in course his name will be men-
tioned.”

“That is where ye hang fire, Skinny. Who
is goin’ ter put it inter th’ papers? IL surtuinly
won’t be Captain Iron—grip, nn' it Won’t be th’
captain of either th’ yacht or tli’ tug. That you
kin bet on. An’ Iron—grip will do his best ter
keep it out anyhow. No, sir, you won’t see it in
th’ papers.”

“ That’s so; I didn’t think 0’ all that.”

“ Well, what follers?”

“ Didn’t ye git th’ name 0’ th’ yacht i”

“ There wasn’t a sign 0’ a no me on her.”

“ That’s bad; but it won’t take me ferever ter
find out what yacht it was, an’ then—”

“ An’ then nothin’. What d’ye think we’d
git out 0’ th’ captain 0’ that box? Why th’
vergoquestion would frighten him out 0" th’
har r.”

“ You are right, Billy; we are blocked, an’ no
mistake.”

“ But we ain’t floored not by a good deal we
ain’t,” Billy cried. “ on. know where th’
gang hangs out, an’ we Will git outer their
shapes afore they knows it. It is too bad that
neither one of us got a sight 0’ that Captain
Iron- rip’s face.”

“ at’s so; but I’d know that feller that I
follered, if I was fer meet him in Rushy.”

“ Yes, that’s one ‘int; an’ now I’ll tell you
what we will do. e will go an’ let our moms
know that we are kickin‘, au’ then we will go
an’ hunt up S are.”

“ Bullyl Tait will boost us right along.”

So they deClded, and that they did.

In a little time they had carried out the first-
mentioned part of the plan, and found them-
selves at the detective’s office.

They were fortunate enough to find him in.

The surprise of the detective at the Sight of
Billy can be ima ined.

It did not take ong for Billy to tell his story,
and although the detective could hardly credit
so strange a tale, he knew that Billy was in
sober earnest, and that what he said was to be
relied ii on.

“ An you say that neither of you has seen
the face of that Captain Iron-grip, eh 'l" he ques-
tioned, when the story was ended.

“ Nary a sight have we had of it,” Billy
afllrmed.

“ That is one bad point; but we might be in a
worse fix. Your partner here knows where
their lace is, and we will have it pulled.”

“ es; an’ if we go off too quick at that.”
 put in, “we may "miss th’ big game after

“ Right you are, my lad. Well, can you sug—
gest anything?”

" I think I in.”

“ Let’s hear from you, then.”

“ What I have got in mind,” Billy set forth,
“is this: Tor-night Skinny an’ me Will go down
ter their crib and begin a little work. Skinny
kin make that hole big enough ter let me in, an’
then both of us kin set to work an’ make it big
enough fer half a dozsp perlice ter crawl inter.”

“ What good will that do? We want to get
into the house, not under it.”

“ That is all right; you ain’t heard me out.”

“Well, go on."

“ When we git th’ hole that big, you kin send
a man or two down late at ni ht, say one or
two o’clock in th’ mornin’, an’ t iey kin take a
jack along an’ lift some of th‘ floor boards an’
git inter th’ room. See?”

“ I begin to get the drift of your meaning,
and our idea is a good one. Go on.”

“ hen that is done, then they kin take out
th’ nails, an’ have th’ floor all ready; ter lift
right up at a second’s warnin’. You in have
men on th’ watch all th’ time an’ if we git
trapped, then they kin rai‘ the den.”

“ That is what we wi do. And when the
work is done, then you and your partner, and a
man or two of mine, can take turns in watching
under the place, and as soon as you find that the
Sworn Sevsn are in session, then we will come
down upon them and gather them in.”

“ There, now we have got it dawn flue. an’ if
there ain’t weepin’, wailin’, an’ gnashin’ of teeth,
you kin kick me inter th’ middle 0’ next week.”

It was a plan that promised success, and it
was about the only one that they could act u n
that promised them the whole seven rascals in a
bunc

The details ware all arranged, everything
was understood, and the boys took their leave.

It had been fixed that the boys’ mothen

Broadway Billy’s Dead Act.

 

     
 

13

 

__... ,.

should not disturb the mourning on the stand,
and now it was agreed that Billy should remain
“ dead " until after the grand raid.

He adopted a disguise, and was not seen
around the stand very often.

That night he and Skinny went down to the
miserable den on the miserable street, and,
watching their chance, Skinny got into the hole.

In a little time he had dug away enough
earth to allow Billy to join him, and soon both
were hard at work, as busy as beavers and as si—
lent as mice.

Outside two men were on guard, and signals
had been agreed upon.

Voices were heard in the rooms above, as the
boys were at work, but it was clear that only a
few of the band were present.

Both luds were armed with big, rounded
trowels, and the way they went into their work
showed that they were by no means lazy.

They dug a trench, about three feet wide and
two feet deep, pushing the earth back under the

other parts of the floor, and as the ground was
soft and free from any very large stones, their
work was not really hard.

They stuck at it nobly until the early
hours of the morning, when they crept carefully
out and away, and went home and to bed.

Their task was done.

The alle upon which the hole opened was
rather dar , so that there was but little likeli-
hood that their work would be discovered; and
anyhow there was little trace of it. except in the
fact that the hole had been made larger.

On the next night the workers returned, usin
the greatest care in their approach, and wi
them came two men who had the appearance of
rough-clad mechanics.

Such the were.

When al were under the house, they could do
nothing until the inmates had gone awa .

It had been discovered that the en was
closed and locked most of the time during
the day, and that no one remained there all
night.

Only a few of the band were there, as on the
ravious night, and they did not remain very
a .

As soon as the coast was found to be clear,
then the men set to work. The lifted three of
the floor-boards close to one o the walls, and
soon all were in the room above, where the hid-
eous chandelier was hanging. and where the
seven skeletons were seen upon the floor. It
was but a common-looking place, now that the
red light was not upon it, and none of the
party was greatly alarmed at the sight. The
set to work at once to complete the task so we 1

begun.

 

CHAPTER XVI.
SPRINGING THE TRAP.
THE floor of the room was provided with a
t, but that carpet did not entirely cover it,
there being a border of bare floor about three
feet wide on two of the sides.

It so happened that the boards of the floor
had been removed at one of these places.

When the entrance had been effected, word
was passed out to Detective Speare, who was on
hand anxious to learn of the success or failure
of the plan, and he came in and took a survey
of the place. I

“ We will have them like 'inice in a Jug,” he
observed.

“ You bet we will!” cried Broadway Billy.
“ We can havo men on th‘ watch on th’ outside.
so that none of ’em kin git away, an’ then at th’
right moment we will p up through th’ floor
an’ scoop ’em all in. h! but i am jest in a
fever ter see th’ trap sprung on ’em; ain’t you,
Skinny?”

“ Great ginger, yes,” Skinny owned.

The dirt that had been made b7 r' the lifting of
the boards, and by the entrance of the boys and
men, was cleaned up, and everything was; set in
order, so that it would not be discovered that
the den had been invaded.

When that was done two of the boards were
re lacod, the party made their retreat, and the
ot er board was pulled into its place.

All the nails ha. been removed, and no one
would know that the floor had been disturbed.

Detective Spccrc left a man on guard, and
the others se amtocl an; went their ways.

On the fol owing night, about nine o’clock, as
Broadway Bill; was on watch under the
“crib,” he was suddenly gratified to hear the
entrance of_severai men into the place, and to
hear the vows or Captain Iron-grip.

“ Sweet pertatersl” he exclaimed under his
breath, “ new we arc in fer it, anl my first busi~
ness is far git word fer Spears.”

He lostno time in getting to the entrance,

 

    

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7
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1+;

 

Broadway Billy’s Dead Act.

 

 

 

making the signal, and bringing the outside
guardsman to him.

“ Th’ rats is in th’ trap,” he hurriedly said;
“ o fer th’ cats."

he man said never a word, but hastened
away, and Billy returned to his post to listen.

It soon appeared that the men had a prisoner
with them.

“ Is it a detective?” Billy was in time to hear
one of the men inquire.

“ No, it is not a detective,” Captain Iron-grip
answered, “ but it is the man whom we tried to
.lmpose of the other day when the Old Boy in-
terfered with our plans.”

Broadway Billy could hardly keep still.

Here he was, just in time to save that man’s
life again. Now it all depended upon the
prfimptness with which Speare answered his
ca .

“ An’ what will ye do with him now?” one of
the fellows asked.

“ We will send him to keep company with
that boy, down in the bottom of the bay,” the
captain replied.

At this they laughed.

“ That is a sure way, an’ no discountin’ that,”
one observed.

“ Is it?” thought Billy; “you wait an’ hear
what 1 will have ter say on that head.”

There was considerable of talk, and after a
time the men were heard to move into the other
room and bolt the doors after them, though Billy
had to wonder where the bolts could be. Even
Speare had been unable to find the door with
any certainty.

The explanation was that the bolts were in
the face of the door, or its edge, if you will;
and that they were moved by secret springs.

Billy wasin a fever lest S are and his men
should arrive too late. Why 'd they not come?
It seemed an age since he had sent for them.

But they were soon at hand, and one by one
they crept in under the den and took their
places, Skinny coming with them, as he had
been faithfully promised that he should not miss
the fun.

It was clear from what was heard, that it
was their intention to drown the man who was
in their power, and that it was to be done in
a manner similar to the way in which they
had disposed of Billy.

“ Why do you desire my death?” the prisoner
was heard to ask.

“ That is something that you will never
know,” was the reply of Captain Iron-grip.

“ gilt, who is it that wants me put out ot the
we

“ Another question that cannot be answered.
Let it be enough for you to know that within a
few hours you will be in the other world.”

“ My life has been attempted before; is it the
same person who is seeking it again?” the pris-
oner further asked.

“ I think I can safely answer that it is,” Cap-
tain iron-grip re lied; “ but let us have no more
talk about it. en, see to it that he is securely
bound, and we will leave him here till after
midnight, when we will take care of him.”

The moving of feet was heard, as the men
obeyed the order.

“He can’t git away,” one of them announced.

“ It is we] ,” said the captain. “ You may
employ the time as you will, my man,” be
ad ed, addressing the prisoner, “ until our
return. You are in good company, and as

- shining as these bones are, so yours shall be ere

long.”

It was evident that they were about to leave
the room, and Spears gave the sign for the at-
tack upon them.

With a single movement the boards of the
floor were thrown up, and the detective, the po-
licemen, and the boys, all were in the room in a
moment of time.

t was a surprise complete, and the officers
had the rascals covered with their weapons be-
fore they could realize what had happened.

“ The one of you that makes a move is a dead
man,” said Detective Speare, in a. stern voice.

Even as he said it, he and one of his men
moved forward, and in almost no time at all
every one of the fellows was handcufled.

Their su rise had been too great for them to
{h‘i’nk of o ering resistance until it was too

a 6.

When that was done, the officers snatched the
gowns from them, and nearly every one of them
was instantl recognized.

“ Bertran Wellingfordl” the'prisoner cried in
blank astonishment, as that villain was un-
masked.

Calptain Iron-grip had nothing to say. He
was coking at one of the attacking garty, and
his lips were parted and his face was lanched.

 

BI'llihe one he had his eyes on was Broadway
1. .

“ Oh! it is me,” Billy exclaimed, “an’ I am
as chipper as I ever was in my life. I reckon it
is a matter 0’ s’prise ter you ter see me here, af-
ter th’ way you disposed of me but here I am
all th’ same. There is some things in this World
that you don’t know yet, captain, an’ th’ chances
is that you won’t live long enough ter learn ’em.
You are likely ter be hanged, I should say. At
an rate, you are booked fer a term up th riVer,
an while you are there you kin while away th
wearyvhours in tryin’ ter solve th’ problem 0’
how illyum o’ Broad way kem ter life again.”

It was a matter of the greatest surprise to
them all, and not one of them could form any
idea of how the boy had escaped from what they
had looked upon as his certain death. Ay,
more; had he not been found and actually
buried? They could not comprehend it.

 

The Sworn Seven were severely dealt with,
and not one of them escaped the full penalty of
the law.

It was a great surprise to Lady Hamptden,
and when the whole case was made known to
her she could not realize that it was true. Could
Welingford be such a hardened wretchi she
questioned. -

The proof against him was the answer.

 

Alfred Hamptden and Regina were married,
and honored guests at the wedding were Broad
way Billy and his partner, Skinny.

Skinny never tires of talking about the affair,
and declares that it was a good deal greater
than anything he ever dreamed about. In com-
}éaring it, he insists that it was not far behind

roadway Billy’s funeral.

 

The two boys are still in business at the old
stand.

Skinny has new little to say in opposition to
Billy’s detective work since he has had a taste
of it himself. Billy declares that he is afraid
the fever will break out upon his thin partner
in a severe form, suddenly, and carry him off.

The Pirogue has not been heard of, since it
was last seen by the two boys, and they are
afraid that its ocean trip proved disastrous to
their three friends.

They are very anxious concerning them, and
are living in hopes their worst fears may not be
realized, and that the Pirogue may yet come to
light all safe and sound.

Our hopes are with them.

 

The strange tale comes to an end.
Only a few minor points remain to be brought
out.

It was never learned who the boy was that
was thought to have been Broadway Billy, and
who as such was buried.

About one of the first things that Billy at-
tended to, when other matters of greater mo-
ment had been disposed of, was to have the
headstone taken down, and his name and the
accompanying words erased from it.

In place of that he had the one word “ UN-
KNOWN ” cut in, and with that inscription the
stone still marks the unknown’s grave.

“ My time hadn’t come yet,” Billy declared,
“ an’ there is no use tryin’ tar get a teller out 0’
th’ world afore his time is ripe. It begins ter
dawn upon my darkened intellect that I was
born ter die of old age, or some other chronic
ailment 0’ th’ mortal body. I wasn’t never
meant ter be killed. If I had been, my stock 0
lives would ’a’ been run out long ago, and I
would now be in my wooden overcoat. No,
sir-ee, Broadway Billy wasn’t meant ter be
killed, an’ ye kin publish it abroad so that he
who runs may read. I don’t want anybody ter
make any mistake on that p’int. An’ you kin
addas a postscript ter that, that Willyum 0?
Broadway is still in th’ harness, an’ that he adds
his weight ter the side 0’ jestice an’ right every
time.

“ Broadway Billy dead? Well, hardly.”

THE END.

 

Beadle’s Dime library.

BY CAPTAIN IVIARK ‘VlLTON.

176 Lady Jaguar. the Robber Queen.

194 Don Sombrero. the California Road Gent.
202 Cactus Jack, the Giant Guide.

219 The Scorpion Brothers; or, Mad Tom’s Mission.
223 Canyon Dave, the Man of the Mountain.

227 Buckshot Ben, the Man—Hunter of Idaho.
237 Long—Haired M'ax; or, The Black League.
245 liarranca Bill, the Revolver (‘hampion

258 Bullet Head, the Colorado Bravo.

263 Iron-Armed Abe, the Hunchback Destroyer.
266 Leopard Luke. the King of Horse-Thieves.
271 Sroneflst, of Big Nugget Bend.

276 Texa; Chick. the Southwest Detective,

285 Lightning Bolt, the Canyon Terror.

291 Horseshoe Hank, the Man of Big Luck.

305 Silver-Plated So], the Montana Rover.

311 Heavy Hand; or, The Marked Men.

323 Hotspur Hugh; or, The Banded Brothers.

BY OLL GOODIES.
7 DeathNotch. the Destroyer.
43 Dakota Dan. the Reckless Ranger.
44 Old Dan Rackback, the Great Extarminator.
46 Bowie-Knife Ben, the Nor’stt Hunter.
48 ldaho Tom, the Young Outlaw of Silverland.
51 Red Rob. the Boy Road—Agent.
99 The Giant Rifleman: or. Wild Camp Life.
137 Long Beard. the Giant Spy. .
148 One-Armed Alf. the Giant Hunter.

BY SAM S. HALL— “ Buckskin Sam.”

3 Kit Carson, Jr.. the Crack Shot.
90 Wild Will, the Mad Ranchero.
178 Dark Dashwood, the Desperate.
186 The Black Bravo; or. The 'l‘onkaway’s Trium h.
191 The Terrible Tonkaway; or. Old Rocky and is

Pards.
195 The Iaone Star Gambler; or. The Magnolia’s
Mai .
199 Diamond Dick, the Dandy from Denver.
20-4 Big Foot Wallace, the King of the Lariat.
21 The Brazos Tigers ' or, The Minute Men.
217 The Serpent of El ’aso; or, Frontier Frank.
221 Des erate Duke. the Guadalou e "Galoot."
225 Roc y Mountain Al; or. The \\ aif of the Range.
2‘39 The Terrible Trio; or, The Angel of the Army. "
M4 Merciless Mart, the Man Tiger of Missouri.
250 The Rough Riders; or, Sharp E e, the Scourge.
256 Double Dan, the Dastard; or, T e Pirates.
264 The Crooked Three.
269 The Bayou Bravo; or. The Terrible Trail.
' Mountain Mesa, the Gorge Outlaw.
282 The Merciless Marauders; or, Carl's Revenge.
287 Dandy Dave and his Horse. White Stocking.
293 Stampede Steve; or, The Doom of the Double

Face.
301 Bowlder Bill; or, The Man from Taos.
309 Raybold. the Raltling Ranger.
322 The Crimson Coyotes; or, Nita, the Nemesis.
328 King Kent; or, The Bandits of the Bason.
342 Blanco Bill, the Mustang Monarch.
358 The Prince of Pan Out.
371 Gold Buttons; or. The Up Range Pards.
511 Paint Pete. the Prairie Patrol.

MISCELL t NEOUS.

6 Wildcat Bob. By Edward L. Wheeler.
9 Handy Andy By Samuel Lover.
10 Vidocq, the French Police Spy. By himsel.
11 Midshipman Easy. By Captain Marryatt.
32 B‘hoys of Yale: or, T e Scrapes of Collegians.
By John D. Vose.
60 Wide Awake, the Robber King. By F. Dumont.
68 The Fighting Trapper. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams.
76 The Queen’s Musketeers. By George Albany.
78 The Mysterious Spy. Bv Arthur M. Grainger.
102 The Masked Ban . By George L. Aiken.
110 The Silent Riflemau. By H. W. Herbert.
125 The Blacksmith Outlaw. By H. Ainsworth.
133 Body the Rover. By William Carleton.
140 The Three Spaniards. B Geo. Walker.
144 The Hunchback of No tre ame. By Victor Hugo.
146 The Doctor Detective. By George Lemuel.
152 Captain Ironnerve, the Counterfeiter Chief.
158 The Doomed Dozen. By Dr. Frank Powell
166 Owlet, the Robber Prince. By S. R. Urban.
179 Conrad, the Convict. By Prof. Gildersleeve.
190 The Three Guardsmen. B Alexander Dumas.
261 Black Sam, the Prairie underbolt. By Col.
J o Yards.
275 The Smuggler Cutter. By J. D. Conro§
812 Kinki'oot Karl, the Mountain Scourge. y Mor-
ris Redwing.
330 Cop Colt,the Quaker City Detective. B C. Morris.
350 Fl‘insh Falcon. the Society Detective. y Weldon

. obb.
353 Bart Brennan; or, The King 0!. Straight Flush.
By John Cuthbert.
366 Tlig Telegraph Detective. By George Henry
orse.
410 Sarah Brown, Detective. By K. F. Hill.
500 The True-Heart Pards. By Dr. Noel Dunbar.
518 Royal Richard, the Thoroughbred. By J. W.

sbon.
528 Huckleberrfi the Foot-Hills Detective. By
Lieut. A. . Sims. 1
534 Green Mountain Joe; or, The Counterfeiter’s
Cave. By Marmaduke Dey.

A new issue every Wednesday.
Beadle’s Dime Library is for sale by all
Newsdealers, ten cents per copv. or sent by mail on
receipt of twelve cents each. ADLE & ADAMS,

Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.

 

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l

  
 

 

 

 

 

 
   

 

 

 

i
J
1

 

 

 

 

BEADLE’SarHALF-DIMEarLIBRARY.

Published Every Tuesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of [five Cents.

No Double Numbers.

 

 

BY PHILIP H. “'ARNE.

67 Patent-Leather Joe: or. ()ld Rattlesnake, the Charmer.
175 Captain Arizona: or. i’utent-In-ather Joe's liig Game.
193 Captain Minsk; or, Patent-Leather Joe’s Defeat.
919 Denpard. the Duelist; (r. The Mountain Veuipirus.
888 A Tou in Boy: or, The Dwath Revenge.

868 Little ‘ornado; or. The Outcaste of the Glen.
878 Little Jingot or. the Queer Pard.

88" Little Oh-Iny or, Caught in His Own Trap.
401 Little Hhoo-l‘ Iy ' or, A Race for :\ Randi.
408 Little Leather-l reevheo; or. Old Jumbo’s Curse.
431 Little Ah Hill; or, The Curse of Blood.

451 Colorado Rate. A Tale oitho nlines.

480 Three Jolly i’ardo.

51? Jiln Gladden’n Deputy.

527 The Jolly l’ardn to the Reneue.

54? Handy Andy; or. A Good Man Down.

556 Lariat Lil; or, The Cost for s Lite.

574 Old “'eai-el-iop. the Man with the Dogs.
593 Keen Clem. the Ranch Imp.

599 Jim Dandy the No-Name Sport.

613 Billy Blaze»; or,’l‘he Skuluton’a Legacy.

BY CAPTAIN FRED. WIIITTAKER.

15 The Sen-Cat; or, The Witch of Darien.
99 The Dumb I’ll e: 0T. The Dole,“ Di“!!!th
43 luck Hurling. t e Pony Express Rider.
150 Lance and Lasso: or. The Children of the Chnco.
154 The Sword Iluntera: or. The Land ot‘the Ele hant Riders.
159 The Loot Captain; or, Skipper anez Coilln’s mine to tho
0 )en Polar Sea.
900 'I e Boy Bedouin-s: or. The Brothers of the Plumod Lance.
21.1. Wolfgang, the Robher of the Rhine.
249 Milo Romer, the Animal King; or, The Round the World
Wanderer.
965 The Tilfier Tamer; or. The League of the Jungle.
881 Dias-k iek. the Demon Rider.
395 California Joe‘s “fur Trail.

BY BUCKSKIN SAM (Major Sam. 8. Hall.)
984 (Pridklloeky s “Iioyees; or, Benito, the Young Horse-
81'

rea .
246 Giant George; or, The Ang’l oi‘ the Range.

275') Arizona Jack: or. Giant George’s Yard.

99'? The Tarantula ot’ Tam- - or, (limit Goorgo'a Revenge.
30? The Strange Pard: or, Little Ben‘s Death Hunt.

319 Ker-whoop). Ker-whee: or, The 'l‘arantula ni‘Taos.

82‘? Creeping at. the Caddo; or, The Red and White Pards.
332 Erie Fred: or, The 'l'onkaway’u Trust.

844 The Fighting Trio: or. Rattlesnake, the 'l‘onkaway.
349 “Wild W oli': or, Big-Foot Wallm-e to the Front.

85? The Ranch Ralderu: or, The Siege of Fort i‘Argatory.
861 Snap-Shot. the Boy Ranger.

8?": Chiota. the, Creek: nr, The Three Thunderbolts.

881 llandera Bill: or. lt‘rio it‘rnnk tn thr- Front.

892 Romeo and the Redo; or, The Belemguered Ranch.

40.} Llulo Lurlutg or, l’ecan Pete’s Big Rampage.

414 The Dull-y from Denver.

42? The Three 'l‘railern; of, Old Rocky on the Romp-go.
442 liluii' Bill; or, The Lynx oi the Leona.

445 Little Lone Star: or. The Belle of the Clboio.

BY EDW A RD WILLETT.

167 AMI Scott. the Steamboat Boy.

199 l‘eatherwoixht the Boy Champion ortho Muskingum.
22K Ozark Ali” or, Featherweight Among the Outlaws.

299 The Typo Detective ; or, Weasel, the Boy Tramp.
995 Fearless Phil; or, The King ni'Quurizvllle.

811 The Rovin Sport; or. The Pride of Chuckoluck Comp,
899 Nemo, the IDetective; or, Kit Ken on's Vendetta.
840 Clip the Contortionlst: or. Tho iontann Vigilantss.

BY J. C. COWDRICK.

800 Sliver-Mask. the Mon 0! Mystery.
869 Shasta, the Gold King: or. For Seven Years Dead.
490 The Detective’a A prentieez or, A Boy Without . Nuns.
43.1 Clbuta John; or. l ell-Hot Times at Ante Bar.
489 Randy Sam, the Street Scout.
46? Disco Dan. the Dsisy Dude.
490 Broadway Bill . the Rootblsck Bravo.
506 Red“ ht Rnip I, the Prince of the Road.
514 Broa way Bi 1 ’s Boodle.
694 The Engineer I etective.
586 Broadway Billy’s Humidity.”
548 Mart, the Night Express Detective.
55'? Broadwa Billy’s Death Racket.
  Lukestho YounguEni‘rilnr-er.m” S n P t
‘ e mney py; or, roa way y’s urp se- or y.
699 The Boy Pinkerton.
605 William 0’ Broadway; or, The Boy Detective’s Bit: inning.
616 Fighting Harry, the Chief of Chained Cyclone.

BY JO PIERCE.

89? Bob 0’ the Bowery: or, Tho Prince of Mulberry Stroot.
415 The Vagabond Detective; or, Bowery Bob’s Boom.
‘59 1101.! “1' Bob. the Street-Boy Detecthm

460 The awyer’o Shadow; or. Luke’s Legacy.

479 Jaunty Joe, the Young Horse-King.

494 Surly Sim. the Young Forrymsn Donal",

1504 Five Point: Phil.

509 Jack Ja zero. the Butcher Boy Detective.

5|“ Tartar Im; or. Hve Points Phil’s Menagorle.

526 North River N at. the Pier Detective.

538 Wreltling Rex, the Pride oftha Sixth Word.

541 Jet? Flicker. the Stable Boy Dotoctivo.

651 Nick Netfle, the Rev Shadow.

559 Ilarlem Jot-k. the film Buy Detective.

569 Brooklyn Den. the ()n-His-Own-Hook Dogma".
577 Pavement Pete. the. Secret Sifter,

588 Jaek-o'-Lantern. the Under-Sea Prospector.

«08 \Vlde-Awake. Bert. tineStreut-Steersr.

614 Whistling Jun-oh, the Detectiw’s Aid.

693 Buck Bulnlslebee, the Harlem Hummer.

BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID.
D] ,k: or, The Yellow Chief's Von oanco.
g: gain-fa Pirates' or. The League 0. Devil's island.
18’? The ilel lens llan ; or. Backwoods Retribution.
989 The Gels-seeker Gnidet or. The Lost Manama,
BY MAJOR HENRY B. STODDARD. Ex-Seout.
. . N i: or The Duz-Out Pards.
 ii? ‘i‘erhelap‘h‘nei z’or. The Syordsmon ot‘ Zscstocu.
391 [(1 -Glove Kit. the Dandy oi the Rockies.
898 Kid-Glove Kit and l’ardt or, The Gold King.
406 The Mad Man-limiter; or. The Mystery of Gold“

505 $232115 Par-d; or, The One-Armed Giant.
BY HARRY ST. GEORGE.

o oekwood, the Run or.
:4 Rgttrlli'h. 113:1] 231:“ The Nighthawks 0 Kentucky.
59 Old Hie ory: or, Pandy Ellis’s Song).
108 D‘l'hlx Davy: or. The Trail of tho rdor Wolf.
166 Hickory Harr : or, The Trs or-Brigsdo's Spy.
179 Thunderbolt om: 0!. “10 “FROM”.

 

BY ALBERT \V. AIKEN.

11 The, Two DeIet-tlven; or, The Fortunes of: Bowory Girl.
76 Abe Colt. the Crow-Killer.
79 idol Ginger. thu- Giant 'I rapper.
233 Joe Much of Angela and Ilia Boy Pal-d.
21; :CW' {orli Nrtfil Ak'l'ale ni"l'ricka and Traps in Gotham.
5 A e\\' I" “In ' (t " or, The Fortunes i s
464 Nimble glt'k, the Clfltlil Prince. 0 “Foulduug
98 'l‘aon Ted, the Arimna Sport.
510 Cool Colorado, the Hall-lined Detective.
518 Cool Colorado in New York.

BY GEORGE “'ALDO BROWNE.

86 Dandy Rock the Man from Texas.

90 The I read Rider; or, The 'l'exsn Duellnt.

99 The Tiger oi’Taoa; or. Dandy Rot-it’ll AngoL
115 The Mad Miner: or, Dandy Rock's Doom.
181 The Golden "and: or. hand Rock is) the Rescue.
164 Dandy Rock‘s Pied e; or. hunted to Death.
178 Dandy Rock’s Riva : or. The Haunted Maid of Tm.

HY CAPT. J. F. C. ADAMS.

84 Oregon Sol; or, Nick VVhiillea'a Boy spy.

46 Glauu- Eye. the Great Shot of the “feat.

54 Ned Hazel, the llo ' Trapper.

56 Nick “I illiiierl'n I et: or, it: The Valley of Death.

60 The Willie Indian; or, The Scout oi' the Yellowstono.

70 Old Zi ‘s Cabin: or, 'l'h.» Greenhorn in the wood“

81 I‘lxlltnfng Jo, the 'l'error oi the Prairie.

86 lek Buckram; or, liens. the Female 'l’rn per.
9717 Old Grizzly and Ilia Peta; or, The Wll Hunt”...
251 Light-hoarse Like; or, Uru‘eoln, the Firehrand.

957 The Loot Hunters: or. The Underground Camp.
988 The Scalp King: or, The Human Thunderbolt.

BY ROGER RTARBUCK.

95 The Boy Captain: or. The i‘iratu'e Daughter.
114 The, Black thuoner: or. Jih Junk. [Inn Old Tar.
259 The Golden liar tools: or, Loni. Among the Floos.
84R li‘lrqueela- or, i) d Skinillnt, the Death-Shadow.
854 Big Horn I 'e. the liiii Tramp; or, The Odd Psi-do.
861 The Phantom Light-houne.
970 Breaker Ben. the Reef-Runner.

BY WILLIA \l 1:. EYRTER.

190 Dandy Dal-kc; or, The Tigers of High Pine.
210 Faro Frank; or, Dandy Darke'a (Io-l)own i‘ard1

BY COLON EL DELLE SARA.

103 The. Lion oi'the son; or, The Vailed Lady.
186 Cool Deomond : or. The Gambler‘s liig (iaine.

BY JAMES L. BO‘YEN

107 Due-E ed Sim: or, The Abandoned Foreal Home.
110 The 1! “('ii Hteed oi'the Prairies. A Story or Texas.

BY C. DUNNINC CLARK.

185 Captain Paul: or. Tho Buy Spy of the Mountains.
980 The 1 ankee Rajah; or. The Fate of the Black Sherooi.

BY GEORGE C. JENKS.

486 Git Thar Owney llie Unknown.

499 Git Thar Owney’n Pledge.

518 The Demon Doctor.

581 Double-Curve Dan. the Pitcher Detective.

598 Flute. ihe Singer itetuvtlve.

608 'li;h(l- ll'lltivher Detective’n Foil; or, Double Curve Dan's
on ) e ' av.

616 The Ocean Detective: or. The Last Cruise ofthe Block Bear.

BY CAPT. ALFRED B. TAYLOR U. S. A.
191 Bulfan Billy. tho Boy Buiiwhmksr; or, Tho Doomod

Thirteen.
194 Bull'an Bill’s Bet: 0!. The Gomblor Gnlds.

BY CHARLES E. LASALLE.

50 Burt Bur-ker, the Trapper.
59 The “'hite Buifalo. A Tole of the Northwost.

BY JOHN J. MARSHALL.

40 Roving Ben. A Story oi'a Young American.
97 The Outlaw Brothers: Or. The Coptlvo of tho Horpos.

BY “’51. G. PATTEN.

489 The Diamond Sport} or, The Douhlo Foes ofBod Rock
519 Cu tain Myster tor. ive in Ono.

bill Dal’s Dare limbport from Denver.

587 Old Domhuhell. the Ranger Detective.

604 iron Fern. the Man oi Fire.

619 The Boy ’I‘rump Detective; or, The Doublo Grip wane...

BY MAJOR E. L. ST. VRAIN.

999 Sancho Pedro, the Boy Bandit.

801 Lt'lldVille Nick the Boy Sport.

on Redtop Raise. the van-m. Prince.

888 Brim-stone Bob, and His Lightning Horss Quortotto.
959 Tombstone Tom. the Arizuns Boy 01‘ “Sand.”
359 Dnransro Date, the Yunnu 'Timlni-Inh Wrostior.
811 Kin bolt Chris, the Young Hard-Shell Doing",
890 Ava aeho Alf. tho Foothills Guide.

890 Jaguar Joe. of tho Mountain Mail-Lino.

BY EDWARD S. ELLIS.

6 Bi] fllddon, Trap er.
8 Set Jones; or, ’i‘ .- Captlvos niths Frontier.
10 Not Todd: or, The Fate of the Sioux Captive.
h The Frontier Angel. .
98 The Roy Mlnrrot or, The Enchanted island.
189 The Hunted Hunter; or, The Stran o Horseman.
954 The Half-Blood: or, The Panther o the Plains.
971 The Huge Hunter: or, Tho Steam Prsirle Mon.

BY MAJOR LEWIR W. CARSON.

978 The Three Tra err-z or. The Mountain Monsur'.
983 Indian Joei or. ‘i‘lle White Spirit of the Hills.

BY FRAN K DUMON’I‘.

190 The Branded "and : or. The Man of Mystery.

197 Wild-Fire. the Bonn of the Road.

140 Blue lilazen; or. The Break 0’ Day Boys of Bothy Bar.
171 Eben Dan; or. The Rival Leagues.

185 Evil ye: or. The Vultures of the Rio Grands.

BY CAPT. MARK WILTON.

956 Young Rentuok: or, The Rad Lasso.
970 Blizzard Den 3 or. The Riot st Kono Camp.
986 Jooh. the Boy Tenderfoot.

BY BRACEBRIDGE HEMYNG.

89 Island Jim: or. The Pet of the Family.
91 The Captains of the Club: or. The Rival Athloios.
101 Jack Ilarkaway in New York.

 

 

BY JOSI'II’II E. BADGER, JR.

2 Yellownione J lit-k; or. The Trap wr.
4" "look John. the ltumlhuont; or, 'i'ln- ()utluw’l Retro“.
65 Hurricane "ill; or, Mustang Sam and His l’ard. I

119 Mustang Ham 3 or. The King oi the Plains.
136 Night-Iluwk Kit; or, 'I luv lliuiuhier of the Ranch.
144 Dainty Lance ihi‘ lioy Sport.
151 Panther Paul: or, Dainty Lam-e to the Reacuo.
160 The, lilswk Giant: or. Dninty Lance in Jeopardy.
168 Deadly Dash; or, Fighting Fire With Fire.
184 The “03‘ Trailers ; or. Dainty Lance on the War-Path.
908 The Boy I’ardn; or. Dainty inure Unmaskl.
211 Crooked Cale, the i‘nlihnn oi'Celu-xtinl City.
810 The Barnum-a “' oli , or, The ilemitii‘ul Decoy.
819 'I he Blank Rider 3 or, The Horne-'l'hii-ves’ Lolxuo.
 il’i'd I‘D‘ssllsblell‘lut 3“)", Tim Strange Guide
) ’ ‘ le ’ na- o the oodn: or Daniel Boone’s Lost In".
‘49 Kit Fox. the Border Boy Detective.
625 Chincapin Dan, the Boy Trailer.

BY W. J. HAMILTON.
63 The Red Brotherhoodt or. The Twolvo Avongsn.
66 Hill lo “and: or. A Life for a Life. \
’4‘9 Mm Tom “'enlern, the Tenth Rungor.
887 Ben Iiird. the Cnve Klna; or. Big Pete's Scoop.

BY JACK FARRAGUT.

815 Ned, the Cabin Boy.
890 The Sea Sort-ere”; or. The Boy Shippor.

BY LIEllT. II. D. PERRY. U. B. N.‘
176 The Boy Runaway; or. The lium-anesr of tho Bay.
190 The Sea Trailer: or. A Vow Well Kept. s
199 Captain Kit; or. The Mystery of Montnuk I’olnt.

BY IIAR RY HAZARD.

898 Arkansaw Jack: or, Tim Scourge of the Mines.

329 Red-Skin TOIni or, The llmnnn's Trail.

849 The Mountain Devil; or. Yellow Jack, the Outlaw. ‘ ,
l

B Y COL. A. 1“. IIOL’I‘.

899 Black Buckskin: or, The Masked Men of Death Canyon.
419 Kenneth. illi' Knife-King.
435 Little Lixllii'oot, the Hint of the “foods.

BY J. \\'. OSBON.

469 The Rival Giaui! oi' Nowhar‘.

49H Cantu: Burr. the Alan irom llnrd Luck.

537 Old Buckeye. thr- Starla Shadow.

561 Powder Phil, the “03' Miner.

OOi' Holly Ilorrll, iln- \i'il'rilll Dr'il‘i'ill'l‘.

620 Little Lightning’s: League: or. That Mvstcry oi'tne blond;

HY FREDERICK DE‘YEY.
313 Cimarron Jack, the Klng-l'ln 0i Rifle-Shots.

47K 'I‘anuemuud, lln- lli-m-l’t Detective.
512 The Canyon Pardn.

BY A R’I‘III'R (‘. GRIRROM.

440 Little Foxi'oot. the Gold llowlu Kid.
55H The Hare-Rho! l’ardn.
691 ’I‘ruthi'ul Jansen, the "l‘ei’ooliar" Man.

BY LIEITT. A. R. 91118.
54“ o“litain Cut-tun, ilIeCliapnrrnl (Hick.
l’stifiv The Dandy of Dodge.
576 The Silver flport.
593 “airfoil Ho]. iln' Mun “'iih a Shadow.
(Skill Tom-(lat and I'ard: or. The Dead Set at Silver City.
601 Happy Ilanu, the Duioh Vidoc .
611 "iii ad Baruai-le. the Dn-ivrilvel erculun.
692 Texas Tom-(‘at’u 'I‘riad.

M I SC ELLAN EOUR AUTHORS.

4 The Wild-lloroe Iiuntero. By Cont. Mayne Bold and
Frederick Whittsker.
9 Adventures of Baron Munehauson.
12 Gulliver’s Travels. ii ' Deon Swift.
AlaL.dint or, The Wonder ul Lamp.
16 RobJuson Crusoe. (‘21 illustrations.)
18 Sindbad the Sailor. His Seven Voyages.
99 (use Sea Serpent: or. The Boy Robinson Crusoo. By Joan

wls.
88 The Ocean Bloodhound; or. Tho Rad Pirates of tho
Corrlheen. BvS W Piorco

86 'ghfi Boy Clotvn'x or, Tho Quosn oi tho Aron. By Frank
. nn

8!! Ned Wyldo. tho Boy Scout. By Tens Jock.
51 The Boy Rifles; orI Tho Undsrground Comp. By Archio

C. irons.
95 The Rival Rovers or Tbs Frss .
By Lioul..-Col. llololtln: ’ boon" 0! m. “mud”
98 Robin Hood, tho Uutlswod Earl; or,'I'hs Merry Mon olGrooo-
wood. By’Prof.Gildorsloovo.
105 Old Ru e, the Hunter; or, Tho Crow Coniivo. By Captai-
Hnmilton Holmes.
119 The Mad "outer; or, The Guns of Dosih. By Boris: Bus.
194 '(Ii‘ippy. the Texan: or,’i‘hs Young Champion. 97 Gsorgo

esson.

198 The Young Privateer; or, 'l‘ho Pirate's Stronghold. By
Harry Cavont lsh.

148 Sharp 8am: or, The Advontnros ois Frisndloss Boy. By J.
Alexander Patten.

997 Dusky Darrell. Trs por: or, Tho Groon Ranger of tho Yol-
iowstone. By Edward morson.

961 14"- us Fears-an ht the Now Y’ri Boy- B G. L. Alton.

966 RH War. the Outlet "MD"! Crocmi'l rooksd Troll.
By Enoliru C. D. Warren.

998 Red Claw. thn Ono-331d Tripp"; 0?. Tho Maid of tho Ciil.
By Captain Comstock.

317 Peacock Pete. the lesly Lsd from Lsodvilio. By Lion-
tenant Alirod Thorns-

898 The Sky Detective: 0', A Boy’s Fight for Lilo and Horses.
By Mnior Mickey From

850 Red Ralph. the River Rover: or.’i'ho Brotbsr’s ls-
vengo. By Nod Bun tlino.

865 Baltimore Ben the Bootbinck Dstoctivo. By A. P. Harris.

874 Gold-Dust Tomi 0". Bcn’s Doublo Mstcb. By Goons 11.

ans.

876 California Joe's Firlt Trail. By Colonol Tho-
Hover Mommy.

413 Billy Bombshell. tho cmr cum»... By as. Winthrop.

T5 The Black flhi . By John S “'arner.
4 Comanche Die and Rio Three Invineihlols 3!

Henry J. omas.

598 Willard-Arm, the band SEort. 1! Arthur 1.110“-

589 The Cowbo Duke. y dwin {roots Forrost.

559 Ariel the At lete. By David Druid.

585 “’ill Waters, the Bay Ferret. By il. Eaton.

A New Ioouo Every Tuesday.

The Half-Dime Library is for solo by oil nowsdooloro,“
souls por copy, or sont by mail on receipt of six coats soch.

BEADLE AND ADAMS. Publishers.
98 William Street, New York.

 

EADLE’SrHALF-DIMEerLIBRARY.

Published Every Tuesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Five Cents.

'0 Double Numbers.

 

 

BY EDiVARD L. “'IIEELER.
Deadwood Diek Novels.

1 Deadwood Dick, the Prince oi'thc Road.
20 Double Daggera or, Demiwmnl Dick's Defiance.
28 Buti'alo Ben; or, eatiwood Dirk in Disguise.
35 “list Ivan. the Boy Claude Duvai.
42 Phantom Minor; or, Deadwood llit'k'a Bonanza.
49 (Insaita 011' or Deadwood Dick in Danger.
52 Deadwood Dlt-k’o Eagle-t; or, The l'urds oi Flood Bar.
78 Deadwood Diek on Der-k; or. t‘ulamity Jane. the iloroino.
T? Corduroy Charlie; or, Deadwood Dick’s Last. Act.
100 Dead wood Dlek In Leadville.
104 Deadwood Dlek‘a Devieo: or, The Double Cross Sign.
100 Deadwood Dick aa Detective.
129 Deadwood Diek'a Double; or, The Ghost oi Gorgon’s

(illit'li.
138 Dinnde Bill; or. Deadwood Dick’s Home Base.
149 A (lame of Gold; or. Deadwood Dick‘s Big Strike.
156 Deadwood Dick oi‘ Deadwood; or. The Picked Part .
195 Deadwood Dlek'a Dream; or, '1 he Kiwis otth Ron .
201 The Blaek Ililia Jezebel; or, Deadwood Dick’s “had.
205 Deadwood Dick’s Doom; or, Calamity Jane's Lut Ad-
VQil tire. I
211I Captain Crook-Shot, the Girl Brl and.
221 Sulfur-Coated Sam; or, The Blac Gown.
232 Go d-Duat Dlek. A Romanre of Rouglu and Tougha.
268 Deadwood Dlek‘a Divide or. The. Spirit of Swamp Lake.
266 Deadwood Diek’s Death ‘rail.
3091(3eadwood Dick’s Big Deal; or, The Gold Brick oi
rt '0”.
321 Deadwood Dick’s Dozen; or, The Fakir oi'l’hantom Flats.
347 Deadwood Dick’s Dueato; or. Rainy Days in the Dig-

tags.
351 Deadwood Dick Sentenced; or, 'i‘ho Terrible Vondotta.
862_Deudwood Diek’l Claim.
405 Deadwood Diek in Dead City.
410 Deadwood Diek’a Diamonds.
421 Deadwood Dick in New York; or, A “Cute Care.”
430 Deadwood Diek‘a Durst; or, The Chained iland.
448 Deadwood Dlek. Jr.
4.48 ngkelJ'lute Ned; or, Deadwood Dick Jr's Defiance.
458 Sunflower Sam, oi Shasta; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Full

liand.
459 Final. ran, the Ferret; or, Deadwood Dick Jr's Big Round-

U l.
465 Elsliiomll'ly, of Phenix; on, Deadwood Dick Jr's Racket at
4 n 111 .

471 Bozeman Bill; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Corral.

476 gunfihoidit Barry the Hurricane; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s
lg «tort ve.

481 Moll Myntcry; or, Deadwood Dirk Jr. in Deadwood.

491 1"rlsaco l’lotoi, the King of the West; or, Deadwood Dick
r's ‘omnact.

496 Monte Cristo. In; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Inheritance.

 Beagwoot}  lggfilngz; or. Dr. Death-Grip’s Swoop.
ca “'001 e a e vcr nee.

515 Deadwood Diek'a l’rotegee.

522 Deadwood Diek'a Three.

529 Deadwood Diek‘a Danger Ducks.

534 Deadwood Dick’a Death Hunt.

539 Deadwood Diek Jr. in Texan.

i213 ii"“i‘.‘”°°ii iii“? "'ii‘i’ “ii"‘.‘i°" ““"°"'
ea woo e on a e t e.

554 Deadwood Dlek, Jr. in Gotham.

561 Deadwood Diek in Bot-ton.

 Beagwoot: first, 3r. :n griladelnhim
ea “’00( e ' r. u s e o.

rm Deadwood mut’, Jr. Afloat."

5S4 Deadwood Dlek, Jr. in Denver.

590 Deadwood Diek, Jr'a. Decree.

 ::ea(}woo:lill,1ll(2|:tJJr. in(lieelzelbub‘adnaoin.
eat woo e r. at ‘oue a an .

606 Deadwood Diek Jr‘n Lead¥111e Lay.

612 Deadwood Dlek Jr. in Detroit.

618 Deadwood Diek. Jr. In Cinelnnati.

624 Deadwood Dick, Jr. in Nevada.

Other Novels by E. L. Wheeler.

26 Cloven 11001”, the Buffalo Demon.

32 "OD Wooii’; vi, The Girl Dead-Shot.

89 Deutlth‘at-e, Detective; nr, Lit'e in New York.

45 Did Avalanehe: or, Wild Edna, the Girl Brigsad.

53 Jim lillldaoe. JI’., the Boy Phenix.

61 Buekhorn Bill; or, The Red liiilo Team.

69 Gold Bliie the Sharmhooter: or. The 30 Detective.

80 Rosebud Ilob he , . ugget Nod, the Knight.

34 ldyi, the Girl . iner; or, Rosebud Rob on Hand.

89% Photo ru h I’ll“; or, Rosebud Rob's Reappoarance.

92 (luna; n. (‘ ei ; or, Old Anaconda in Sitting Bull’s Camp,

W’“;,gh.|“,ve; or, Arabs and Angels of a Great City.

Jack Iloy e the Young Slweuintur.

Gilt-Edged Dlek. tile Span Detective

(‘lanarnon Chin, the. Girl Sport.

Bonanza Bill. Miner.

But-a Bob the King of Hontlnlncks.

Solid Hum the iioy Road-Agont.

5 gantjttlin il‘erret, the New York Detective; or, Boss Bob's
an“ I) l.

1 New York Nell the Boy-Girl Detective.

7 Nobb ' Nit-k oi’ fievadat or, The Sierras Scanipo.

1 “'ild rank, lili‘ Buckskin liravo.

H1 Fritz, the Bound-Boy Detective. -

8 Fritz to the Front; or, The Ventrilo ulat Hunter.

2'26 Snoozer, the Buy Sharp: or. The Arab elective.

236 Apollo Bill, the Trail Tornado.

2410 (‘ elone Klt, the Young Gladiator.

241 Hiyerrss Hum, th.‘ Frontier Fern-t.

24! Sierra Sam's Secret; or, The Bloodv Footprints.

258 sierra Sam's Paul; or. The Angel nl Big Vista.

2594 Mona Sam'a Seven; or,'l‘he Stolen Bride.

2‘73 Jumbo Joe. the Roy l’aii’ui: or, The Rival Heirs.

277 Denver Doll. tint iletet'live Queen.

2.91 Denver Doll‘s Vietory.

8R5 Denver Doll‘s Deeuy ; or. Lillie Bill's Bonanza.

291 Turk, the Boy Ferret.

296 Denver Doil'a Drii'i : or. The Road Queen.

2109 .\ No. 1. tho Dashim: Tull-Taker.

808 ’I.Izn Jane, the 'iirl Minor; or. the itott~Nor\'od Sport.

825 Kelley, lliekev .k' 00.. the Dutertives of Philadelphia.

330 “me aunt-4.1mm or, The Dead Face of Dagger-Willa.

834 K anguroo Kit; or. The MyntoriOus Miner.

339 Kantraroo Kit’a Racket.

843 Manhattan Mike, the Bowery Blood.

855 First-Clans Fred, the Gent trom Gopher.

868 Yreku Jim. the Gold-Gatherer; or, The Lottery oi

. lo

872 Yreka Jim's Prize.
378 Nahob Ned; r~r. The Srcret of Slab City.
862 Cool Kit. tho Kim: of Kids; or. A Yillain’s Vongsanco.
885 Yreka .lim'a Joker; or, The Rivals or Rod No.9.
8119 Illt-yt-le lien; or. The Lion nf Lighlning Lode.
894 Yreka Jlm of Yuba Dans.
400 “'riuklca, the Night-“hitch Detective.
416 11131; "at Harry. the Base Bull Dctpctivo.
426 Ram Slalsaidea. the Beggar-Boy Dotoctlvo.
484 Jim Beak and 1’ l, Privato Douclvoo.
g: Santa Fe fill. the Mash".

Sealokia Baas, tho Sparklor.

blIdH—Idhlfl
In: flhaflfl-fl-s
nay—flag

MEI-“‘3
-‘

 

B Y C "A BLES M DRRIB.

118 Will Somera, line Bur l).-t.:ctivo.
13' 1’1!“ ll (13', the lion! Buy.
on) ne Pete; or, Nil-odemns, the Dog Detective.
Detective Diek; or, The lil'r“ in Raga.
Ilaudamue Harry, the iim-tldm-k Detective.
\1'111 \VHdli re, the Thoroughbred.
Blaek 1‘1‘II. \Yiii \Ylidfile'u Ram-r.

Mike Merry, tile liarimr i’uliw Boy.
“1 111 \Y iidiire in the “’ooda.

Billy Baggage. the Railroad lluv.

A Tramp Card; or. Will \V’litltire “'ina and Loses.
Bob ltoekeu; or, .\.‘.y.irrien of New York.
1101) Beckett the iiank Runner.
The. Hidden ilund‘ or, Will \i'ildiire‘s Revenge.
8'? Fred Ilalyard, the .lie Boat Boy; or. The Smugglers.
159 1101! Boekett; or. Driven to the “'all.
“Hi shadowed; orI Bolt Rockett'a Fight for Life.
206 Dark Paul. the Tiger King.
212 Daahlng Dave, the Dandy Detective.
220 Tom Tanner or, The Blark .‘hoep oi the Flock.

25 Sam Chan-on the Premium Darky.

udow Sam. the Messenger Roy.
242 The Two “ Blooda "; or, Shenandoah Bill and His Gang.
252 Dick Daahaway; or. A Dakota Boy in ('hirago.
262 The Young Sharp's; or, Rollicking Mike’s Hot Trail.
274 Jolly Jim. ihe Detective Ap rentice.
289 Jolly Jim’a Job; or, The oun Detective.
298 The Water-Hound; or. The nung Thoroughbred.
305 liaahaway. 01’ Dakota; or, A \Veatorn Lad in the Quaker
wt ,

.1 y.
324 Ralph Ready, the Hotel Boy Detective.

341 Tony Thorne, tho Vagabond Detectivo.

858 The Reporter-Detective; or, Fred Flyor’s Blizzard.
367 Wide-Awake Joe; or, A Boy of tho Than.

379 Larrv. the Leveier; or. The Bloods oi the Boulevard.
403 Fireiiy Jack. the River-Rat Detective.

423 The Lost Fin or; or, The Entrappod Cashier.

42“ Fred Fiver. tie Reporter Detective.

482 Invincible Lo an, the Pinkerton Ferret.

456 Billy Brit-k, t in Jolly Vagabond.

466 “'Ide-Awake Jerry, Detective; or, Entombed Alive.
479 Deteetive Dod e; or, The Mystery oi Frank Hearty.

486 W'ild Diek Rae. et. '

501 Boota, the Boy Fireman ; or, Too Sharp for the Sharper.
566 The. Secret Fervlee Dov Detective.

506 Jimmy the Kid; or, A Lamb Among Wolves.

BY 0LL 00011158.

5 Vagabond Joe. the Young Wanderin Jew.
18 The Dumb Spy. K
27 Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide.
81 Keen-knife, the Prince oi'tho l'rairios.
4| Lot-no Jaek, the Young Mnstauger.
58 The Border King; or. The Secret Foo.
71 Delaware Diek, the Young Ran or Spy.
74 llnwkoc e llarrv the Young rapper Rumor.
88 ltollo,t e Bo Dun er.
134 Bus-e Shot Set , the icy Riiioman.
141i Sear-Face Saul. the Silent Hunter
146 Silver Star, the Boy Knight.
153 Eagle Hit. the iioy Demon.
103 Little Texas, the Young Mustangsr.
178 Did Solitary. the Hermit 'I‘ra iper.
182 Little Ilurrieaae, the Bo .aptaln.
202 l’roa eet I'ete ; or, The ’onng Outlaw Hunters.
203 The Boy llereuleax or, The Prairie Trampa.
216 Tiger ’1 om, the Texas Terror.
224 Dnahin Diek; or, Trapper Tom’s Castle.
2274 Little \Y ildflre, the Yumg l'rairie Noilmd.
286 The l’araon De teeth-e; or, The Little Ranger.
248 The Dlagained Guide; or, \l'il-l Raven, the Ranger.
260 Dare-Devil Dan, the Young Prairie Ranger.
272 Mlnkokin Mike, the lloy Shltrphhoowr.
290 Little Foxfire. the Boy Spy.
800 The Sky Demon ; or. Ruiubnlt., the Ranger.
354 \YlsIn-king Joe, the. Boy Ranchcro.
409 liereulea or, Duck, the Hay Ranger.
417 “'eht’oot . one. tho Trump Detet‘tive.
422 BMW Sam. the Boy Giant ot' the Yellowstone.
444 Little But-kakln. the Young l‘rairie Centaur.
457 \\ lugedi'oot Fred; or_ old l‘oiar Soul.
463 ’l'nmurne Tom. the lilg Trafipor Buy.
478 Did ’i‘om Rattler the Red lver Epidemic.
492 Ntonowall Bob. t to iioy 'i‘roiun.
562 “hindering Baail, the Hermit Boy Trapper.

BY T. C. IIABBAUGII.

23 Nick 0' the Night; or, The Ha Spy oi ’16.
37 The llidden Lodge; or The L ttir Hunter.
47 Niglstin ale Nat; or, Tne Forest Cagtuini.
64 Daud nek; or, Th... ()uilawa of the rogon Trail.
82 Kit 1 nrei'oat the Wood-Hawk.
94 Midnight .1 aek or. The Boy Trapper.
106 Did Froaty, the 'itide; or, The White Qnoon.
123 Kiowa Charley the White Muntnnger.
139 Jud e. L neh, Jr.: or. Tho liuv Vigi‘lanlo.
155 Golt Tr er. the Sport; or, 'i' 19 Girl Avenger.
169 Tornado ‘om; or, Injun Javk From Red Cart.
114% Ned Temple, the Border lioy.
19H Arkanauw; or, The Qllm n oi Fate’s Revenge.
20? Navajo Nick. the Boy Gold Hunter.
215 Captuln Bullet; or, Little Tonkuot'a Crusade.
231 l’lIu-ky l’lill; or. Roan, [he Re i Jezebel.
241 Bill Bravo; or, The. Rnughs of the Rockies.
255 (‘aptain Apoll , tno King-Pin oi' Bowie.
6? The Buokakln Detective.
2?” 01d \Vinoh; or, The Buckskin Desperadoes.
294 Dvnatnlie Dan; or, The liuwio Blade or Cochetops.
302 The M oaniain Deleeth e; or, The Trigger Bur Bully.
316 "1d Ettllptle, Trump (‘ur-l of Athena.
326 The Ten l’tsrdnt nr. 'l'he Terror ot’Take-Notico.
886 Big Dells-on; or, The. Quin-n ut‘ the Lana).
845 l’iiilenu Matt: or, Red Thunderbolt’s Secret.
356 (Mini i-avn umi l’nrrl; or The Terrible Six.
366 Velvet F001, the Indian Detertive.
8'46 Captains (.‘ntlaaa; or, ’I he ill't‘cnneer’l Girl Foe.
396 Bough Rob; or, The I‘wiu Champions of Blue Blazes.
411 The Silken Lam-o: or, The Roso oi’ Ranch Robin.
41% Felix Fox, the [lay Spotter.
425 Texas Tram . the Border Rattler.
436 Phil Flash. I e New York Fox.
445 The City Vampires; or. Red Rnlfe’l Flirt-on.
461 line Against Fifty; or, The Last Man of Keno Bar.
470 The Boy Shadow; or. Felix Fox’s Hunt.
477 The Excelsior Sport; or, The Washington Spotter.
499 Single Rilht. the One-Eyed Sport.
502 Branded Ben, the Night Ferret.
512 Dodger Dick. tho Wharf-Spy Detective.
521 1Msdger Dick’s Beat Dodge.
Fox and Falcon, the limvery Shadows.
Dodger Dick. tho Dork Ferret.
rDodger Dick’s Double; or, 'i‘ho Rival Boy Detectives.
Dodger Diek’a Desperate Case.
568 ‘Walter Dick. the Bay Vidocq.
578 ll‘he Two Shadows.
532 Dodger Dick’s Drop.
594 Little Lou, tho Street—Singer Detective.
610 Old Skinner, the Gold shark; or, Tony sharp on Guard.

$6N6fl

Irlrldaawr
=

t-s-i-a-n—n-n-I-s-i
0330'-

 

 

BY C(1LONEL l’ilENTISS lNiillAllAM.

7 The Flying- Yankee; or, ""‘e Ocean (mnmt.
17 Ralph Ho ‘, the Buy iiiifl‘illitel’; or. The Fugitive Yacht.
24 Diamond Dirk ' or, The Mystery 'ot'tlm Yellowstone,
62 The Shadow N sip; or. The Rival Lit‘litt'iiliiiiti.
1'5 The Boy Duelist; or, The Ci'uine oi' the Sea~WoilL
102 Diek Dead-Eve, the Boy Sinut'uier.
111 The Hen-119v i; or, The Midshipnmn’a Legat'y.
116 The Iluauar Captain ; or, 'l h.‘ iietnlii at Hull (into.
197 Little Grit; or, Bernie, the Stork—'l‘wdt-r‘s Daughter.
204 Gold Plume; or. The Kid-(lion: 51...”,
216 Binon "I". the l'riirt’e vi the Reina.
222 Grit. the Bravo Sport; or, The Woman Trailer.
229 (lrlmaon Kata-C; or. The Cowboy's ’l'riuniph.
237 Lone Star, the .owhoy Ca utain.
245 Merle the Middy or, 'i‘ho Freelance Heir.
250 The . ldsshipman . utineer; or. Brandt, the Buccaneer.
264 'lllhc Floating Feather; or, Merle Muntc'a Treasure
s and.
269 The Gold Shin; or. Merle, ihn Condemned.
276 gel-1,45 Monster; Cruise; or, The Chase of “The Gold
A l s
260 Merle Monte-5| Fate; or. Pour]. the l'irntu's Bride.
284 The Sea Marauder; or, Merle Monto's Pledge.
287 Billy Blue-Byers, the Roy Rover u! the Rio Grands.
804 The Dead Shot Dandy or, Benito, the Boy Buglor.
306 Reno Kit; or. Dead Shot l andy'u Double.
314  Mysterious Marauder; or, The Boy Bugler’s Long
rm .

377 Bonodel, the Buy Rover; or,The Flagless Schooner.
888 The Indian l’llot; or, The Search {or Pirate island.
38? Warpath “'ill, the Boy Phantom.

693 Seawaii’, the Boy Lieutenant.

402 landor. the Young Conapirutor; or, The Fatal Leaguo.
407 The Boy Inaurgent; or. The Cuban Vendetta.
412 The “'ild Yaelstaman; or, The War-Cloun’u Cruise.
429 Dunean Dare, the Boy Refugee.

433 A Cabin Boy’s Luck; or. The Corsair.

48? The Sea Raider.

44] The (Decals Firefly; or, A Middy's Vengeance.
446 llaphulard Ilarry ; or, The Scapegraco oi the Sea.
450 “Wizard “'ill; or. The Boy Ferret oiNew York.
454 Wizard W ill’a Street Scouts.

462 The Born Guide; or. The Sailor Boy Wanderer.
468 Neptune Ned, the Boy Coaster.

474 Flora; or, Wizard Will‘s Vagabond Pard.

488 Ferrets Afloat; or. Wizard Will’s Lust Case.

48? Nevada Ned, the Revolver Ranger.

495 Arizona Joe the Boy Pard of’l‘.-xus Jack.

49'? Buck Taylor, King oi the Cowboys.

508 The Royal Middy ; or, The Shark and tho Sea Cat.
50? The llunted Midahlpman.

511 The Outlawed Middy.

520 Buckskin Bill, the Comanche Shadow.

525 Brothero in But-kakin.

580 The Buekoklu Bowers.

585 The line .skin Rovera.

540 Captain Kn—Klux, the Marauder ot the Rio.
545 Lieutenant Leo. the Son 01' Lafitte.

550 Laiittc’a Legacy; or. The Avenging son.

555 The Creole Cort-air.

560 Pawnee Bill, the Prairie Shadowor.

565 Kent Klngdon, the Card King.

570 Camille, the Card Queen.

575 The Surgeon-Seout Deteetlve.

580 The Outcast Cadet; or, The False Detective.
588 The. Buckskin Avenger.

- 591 Delmonte. the Young Sea-Rover.

59? The Young Texan Deteetive.
602 The Vagabond of the Mines.
60? The Rover Detective; 0r. Keno Kit's Champions.

617 Del h. the Dead-Shot Scout; or, The Raiders and
Red iders oi the Rio.

BY BUFFALO BILL (lion. Wm. F. Cody).

3 Kansas King; or, The Red Right Hand.
19 The Phantom Spy : or, The Pilot oi' the Prairie.
55 Deadly-Eye, the Unknown Scout.
68 Border Robin llood; or, The Prairie Rover.
158 Fancy Frank of Colorado; or, The Trapper’l Trust.

LATEST AND NEW ISSUES.

626 The Champion l’arda; or, The Lucifer ofSilver Bar. 3y
'i‘. C. Hurbuugh.

627 Tom Bruce. oi' Arkanaaa; or, The Woiiin the Fold. :3;
Charles Morris.

628 Broadway Billy’s Dead Act; or, The League of tile
vaorn Seven. By .1. C. Cowdrick.

629 Violet Vane, the Velvet Sport; or, The Jubilee o! Juclttown.
By Win. 0. Patten.

680 Deadwood Diek. Jr. in No Man’s Land; or, Golconda,
the Gladiator. liy Ed. L. “'heeicr.

681 Tom Cat's Terrible Tat-k; or.The Cowboy Detective's
Own Case. By Licnt. A. K. Sims. Ready August ‘27.

682 The Dead Dcteetive’o Double. By Gerald Carlton.
Ready September ii.
Pluck Paul the Boy Pros «tutor; or The Deadwood Des-

688 para-io’syLast lnn’inga. By .1.  Osboa ’ Ready September 10.

4 Cache our] the Chico Giant; or. The True Hearts of Red
68 Eye Roost. B; Buckskin Sam. Ready September )1.
5 Oklahoma III the Blue Coat Scout; or, The Boomers Last
68 Battle. By P. 5.,Wmo. Ready September 24.

A New Isaac Every Tuesday.
The llalf- Dime Library is for sslo by all newsdoalcn, no.
“upmmrsontbymii on roooiptoisix ooatseach.

BEADLE no anaas, Plbliahera,
08 Willia- Street New York.