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Copyrighted. 1881, by BIADLI AND Ann". Enhnd at. the Pun Oflice II. New York. N. Y., as Second Clan Mail Matter. April 13. 1887.

2.50 Published Week! b Beadle and Adsms r . ,
V01: XIV. l’Year. No_ 93 WILZ‘AuyST" NEW You ’ Flvgertll‘eenu. N0. 

 

 

 

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2 Bob Rockett's Fight for Life.

 

Bub Huchti’s Fight for Life ;

snanownn _I_N_ NEW YORK.

BY CHARLES MORRIS,

AUTHOR or “ BOB ROCKETT," “ rnnn HALYARD,”
“ WILL wanrma,” are, are.

 

CHAPTER I.
A nascaxr or ma POLICE.

THE room was by no means an attractive
one. The house Wthh contained it was a (li-
lapidated structure in one of the meanest streets
on the East River side of New York. The room
itself was a narrow, low—coilinged apartment,
with the plaster broken here and there on the
whitewashed walls, and with the ceiling so
thickly festooned with cohwehs that the very
sight of it would have been torture to any neat
housekeeper.

It was very rsely furnished. Two or three
chairs. a. dilapidated table and a small stove
formed the main articles of furniture, while the
only adornments were certain newspaper prints
of rim-fighters tacked upon the walls.

Yet the proprietor of this apartment seemed
to fancy that he had a rincely residence, by the
self-satisfied air With w ich he rubbed his hands
together as he looked roudly about him.

“ There’s no use ta king, Bob,” he remarked,
with a lordly air. “ Arter a. chn ’5 been kicked
round the world, and never ha as much asa
pig-pen that he could call home, it’s somethin’
to git a. cranny 0‘ your own. don"t want to
brag of this domicile, and I s’pose there’s neuter
tot-up riggings odt of Fifth avenue; but I never
did go in for luxury, Bob; it’s solid comfort I
want. and I’ve a. notion a chap ’d be a hog that
couldn’t be comfortable here.”

The speaker was a tall, lank, rusty-looking
fellow, with little foxy eyes, and a perpetual
smirk upon his features, as if he wished to be
always ready with a smile for the occasion!

His companion was his verv opposite in every
particular. He was short, hardly up to the
middle hi he, and so broad-shou dered as to
make him ook still shorter. He was dressed in
a rough garb, though it was worn with the
careless ease of one accustomed to good clothes
nd'good society, while there was a certain air
upon his rather plain features which indicated
this}; he was somewhat out of place in this 10-
cal y.

This individual glanced around the room with
a cynical e pression, as if he was saying to
himself, “ chap would have some of the
instincts of the hog that could be satisfied
here.” But he did not give expression to such
thoughts.

“ Yes, you're rather neatly fixed,” he rejoined.
“ I see only one thing wanting."

“ What’s that i”

“ A broorn.”

“And what in the blazes would a chap do
with a‘ broom here?” angrily. ~

“ on, maybe you like cobweb hangings. If you

r

 

do don’t disturb them on my account It’s only "
a uestion of taste.” ett
he host had his eyes fixed reflectively on the
ceiling. 100
“Blow it all) I never noticed them,” he ‘
remarked. “But I guess they ain’t doin’ no . stii
harm.” as
“All right Beau. It’s your castle. If you 1
like Spiders for company it‘s none of my busi- ck
ness. wi
' They were silent for several minutes, Beau e ca
eying the ceiling with a disquieted look, as it
his rfect content had been disturbed. sv
T e other man wore a rather distrustful ex— . vi
prcssion. He now broodcd over the stove, now 33
rose and walked to the window, and at all times 5:.
scennwl to have an air of listening, paying but
little lived to the constant talk of his companion. 1.;
Bean at length turned With a sigh from his ct

contemplation'of the cobwebs.
“That last job was a blasted cruel, ugly hit

of work.” he remarked, with emphasis. ‘ I . 1(
didn’t think it was in him.” a
“ What job?” quickly. I]
“That murder. To think that Sally Crapper f
as I’ve bohuobbed with many’s the time, an V

who‘s give me many a bit when I’d gone hun ry
only for her good heart, should ’0) been knoc ed , 1
in the head by that beast of a Rusty Mike! I, (
Blast his dirty picture. I hope he’ll swing,r for
it! Why there wasn’t such a Whole-souled Wo— _ ,
man in this here town of New York as Sally j
Cruppz-r, nn'l it’ hard to think of her being . v 1
slaughtered like mangy (log by her snarling <' :
brute of a husl nd! It’s enough to fetch the
tears to a chap’s es, Bob.”
“Yes,” answer Bob, abseutly.
“ Yes? And is 1; all you‘ve got to say for ,4; ‘
poor Sally, asp-you e known since on were as
tall as a half- - asshopper! lame me if
I didn’t think yo I more feeling!”
This was an unusml show of indignation tor
Beau Bink. Bob 10( ed 'at him with some dis-
quiet. ,
“Don’t be getting on your ear, old fellow," >
he growled. ‘Mike Cra per is a. butcher, I
know, but I have other sh to fry just now.”
He sprung up and walked quickly to the win-
dow, which looked down upon the street. “ See
here. Beau, how many ways are there of getting /
out of this house?” '
“ Why, there’s the front and the back doors,"
answered Beau, with surprise. “ I don‘t know
any other way except the WlndOWS.”. _,,,
“ There’s the skylight, I suppose?” ‘
“ Yes»; if anybody wants 'to go to Heaven.
\Vhy what’s blowed loose? Is the cops on our
track? Spin it out. Bob. What’s the fun?’ »
He approached Bob somewhat excitedly. The
very mention of a mystery of this sort appealed « .
to his feelings. , , _ 'r ,
“ It’s than confounded bank business.” an- ,,
swered Bob. “They’ve been tracking weaver ..
since the night We opened the Provident.  . in,
them. some traitor has put them‘on my)” . o
and they’ve tracked me from place to plaootbese , , '
three days, like sleuth-hounds.” .  ' .
“Aha! old fox! And so you iii; in here in ,- .
earth. eh? But. I‘m a uiet fami y man. They , ' ‘
won’t think there’s not ing won in a gentle- I ,, I 
glion Rocky '

l .

 
   
  
 

man calling on his honest friend.

i 1

‘ ' "t

  

1X-

._._‘,_._.

., .rmmq-a ' tg,,'.

\

 

Bob Rockett's Fight for Life. 3

 

ett Esq, calls to see Mr. Beau Biuk. That’s the
style, isn’t it? Why they’d as soon think of
looking for hens’ eggs in an alligator's nest.”

“That’s all very nice, Beau, but a bad name
sticks to a man. And—by the fiends. yes, it is
as I thought! They have tracked me here."

His keen eyes had observed something suspi-
cious in the street, upon which opened the single
window of the room. He started hastily back,
callin out:

“ ou must hide me somewhere, Beau, and
swear that black’s blue if you’ve had a mouse to
visit you to-day. Look out of the window. Easy,
easy! Don’t let your head show. Tell me what
you see. ”

“ Nothing, except that there’s a couple of men
leaning against the lamp-post. Plain—looking
coons, dressed in gray tog cry.”

“ Can you make out their faces?”

“ Ono’s got on gold spectacles. He’s got 9.
Ion nose, and a mouth like a fish-tail. Looks
as if he’d lived by swallering mackerel whole.
T’other‘s a strapping tall chap, rather a pretty~
faced coon. He’s got sidewhiskers, and his hair
well down his neck.”

“ That will do. Come back from thercl” was
Bob‘s quick order. “ How does this house open
out back?"

“ Why, there’s a yard, which a half-grown
chicken might have room to stretch her wings in.
Back of that there’s a narrow alley, as leads up
to the back gates of all the houses on this row.
It opens out into Brewess Court. T’other end’s
a blind alley.” .

“ Take a squint out back, Beau. Keep out
of sight, but try and get a glimpse of the alley.
Careful, now.”

“ Trust me,” answered Beau. “ I’ve practiced
lookin, out a Winder, afore now.”

He was absent from the room for several min-
utes, durinty which Bob paced the floorimpatient—
l , thou , h lhe took care not to approach .he win-

ow. here was a second door to the room,
which he opened and looked into the space be-
yond it. It displayed a dark hall, with doors on
each side, and a staircase beyond.

He was still striding uneasily about when Beau
returned. -

“ What news?” cried Bob, hastily.

There was an expression of mystery and of
importance upon Beau’s face. e seemed swel-
ling with information.

‘ Things are looking blue,” he answered, with
a knowing grimace.

“Come! Out with it! Is the alloy under
guard?" ,

“ I caught a glint of a hat over the fence.
blasted official hat. But, that isn't the Worst.”

“ What is the worst then? Hang. you! a
scarecrow would get the blues, waiting on

" you!”

Beau twitched his thumb mysteriously over

his shoulder.

“ l‘m afeard it’s all up, Bob. Except you
choose to try the skylight; and that’ll only set
you adrift on a steep roof, where there’s not an-
other within twenty feet of the same hi ht.
They’re inrthe house below, in force too. hey
are searchin the ground floor now. They’ll be
up here insi_ e of five minutes. It’s a clear sell,
Bob; you might as well give up the ship."

 

“ Not so soon,” replied Bob, quietly. At this
near approach of danger his momentary excite-
ment had disappeared. and he was as cool as if
some more game was being played.

He walked to the door of the room, opened it,
and listened to the sounds that came up from
below.

féThey are on the second floor now,” he quietly
sai .

“ That will soon be settled. It hasn’t more than
half a dozen rooms.”

Beau regarded his visitor doubtfully. Was he
gomg to get into trouble himself?

“This door,” said Bob, pointing to the door
which opened upon the dark hall. “Where does
it lead?’

“ To a back stairs”

“ Vhich runs up and down?”
“ Yes.”

Bob stood a moment reflecting. Then a look
of decision came upon his face. He stooped
down and took off his shoes.

“ Open the front door a crack,” he said to Beau.
“ Listen and tell me when you hear 8. footstep
upon the stairs.”

He did the same himself by the rear door.
Several minutes passed, during which utter si—
lence reigned in the room. Then Beau spoke in
a low. cautious tone:

“They have finished below. They are leaving
a watch at the foot of the stairs. They will be
up here in less than a minute.”

No answer came from his visitor. He looked
quickly around. The back door was closed. Bob
had disappeared.

“ Well, I’ll be cosmogrifled if that ain’t queerl
Is the feller green enough to s’pose that there
won’t be no darbies at the back stairs? Maybe
he‘s heeled it upstairs, so‘s to put off the difl‘i-
kilty ’s long as he kin. Anyhow I’m glad he’s ‘
out of this domicile.”

Beau seated himself beside the stove, crossed
his heels upon its hearth, and seemed to be deep-
ly absorbed in the columns of anewspaper which
he had picked up from the floor. . '

“ There’s only the gnrret floor over‘this ”.he
muttered. “ ut a fly ebuldn’t ' V e 
There’s only three rooms, and two of Indus 
empty as the palm of my hand. Old Jack
Brown lives in the other. when he’s not on a
drunk. But, I don’t b’lieve a cat could hide '
under his furniture. Then there‘s the sk light.
But, s’pose he got on the roof? why. he’d ike
a rat on a floatin’ chip. He couldn’t git off."

The sounds outside were coming nearer. He
became deeply interested in his paper. '. _ ~~ ..

The hack-door of the room 0 nod, and 
men entered. Beau looked quic ly up from his -'
paper. They were evidently policemen, though
not in uniform. .r

“ Hillo! gentlemen! you might have knocked,”
cried Beau. _

Without answering, they fixed their eyes
keenly upon him, and then looked around the
room with a sharp cglance. They were evi- '
dently men accustome to take in a great deal
at a. single sweep of the eye. There was a closet
at one side of the room. This was quickly flung
open by one of tho uninvited visitors.

“ That’s right,” cried Beau, sarcasticall .
“ Make yourselves at home. I. allers ' e

 

TV

L «var. ., — man- M4.

 

Bob Rockett’l

Pight for Life.

 

to see gentlemen act as if they enjoyed their-
selves.” ,

The men continued their investigation without
the slightest attention to him.

1 “ Tlhere’s nothing here,” said one of them, at
en t .

“ ell, I’m obliged to you for that opinion,
an how," rejoined Beau, resuming his paper.
“ was jest a-thinking if you found anything
of vally, that I’d like to go halves with you.
Good-by, if you must be goin .”

“ Dry up, now!” said one o the men, sourly.
“ It’s lucky for you that the chap we are look—
ing‘ for isn’t here, that’s all.”

hey turned toward the door by which they
had entered. At the same moment the front-
door of the room opened, and a third man came

in.
t “ What luck?” he asked, addressing the other
wo.

“Dione, yet. This is the only man we’ve

e n.

The third man fixed his sharp eyes on the pro-
prietor of the room. Beau twisted uneasily
under the look.

“ Ha!” exclaimed the officer. “ Here’s an
oid friend at any rate. Beau Bink, by all that’s
funny. Playing ’possum over a newspaper.
Come. come, Beau, the jig’s up. Where is he?"

“ What’s wrong 3” asked Beau, defiantly.
“ There’s nothing ag’in’ me. I’m an honest citi-
zen, and don’t owe no man a penny.”

W No squirming now, my hearty. He’s an old
friend of ours. Where is he?”

“ Who?’ asked Beau, with a show of igno-

rance.
“You know very well. Your old pal, Bob
Why I ain’t

Rockett."

“ Bob Beckett? Old Bob. hey?
twigged him for—now let me see— Why, blast
it all, Bob’s kicked the bucket. Shot in that
rascallv bank job. You oughter know that.”

“ Let up, my man. That’s a played-out game.
He’s been tracked here. Come, out with it!"

“ Bob Beckett? Why you don’t mean to say
as how he's come to life again? It’d be jist like
Bob though. So ye’r’ ai;ter him fer that bank
biziness?"

“Bank business be fizzled! Do you suppose
we’d turn out this way for a dropped-through

job like that?” He lowered his voice to its deep-
est tones. “ Murder’s the jig, my friend! It’s
a murderer we want.”

“Murder?” Bean sprung up excitedly.

“Yes. Bob Beckett has come to life again;
and what’s more he had a hand in the murder of
Sally Crapper. There’s positive proof against
,him. You would not help a murderer to
escape?”

An ejaculation ofi horror and surprise came
from Bean’s lips.”

“Sally Crapperl Prove it to me, and by
heavens, I’ll be a worse hound than any of you
on his track}?

As he spoke another man entered the room:

“We have searched the upper story,” he
announced. “It’s empty. Our man is not in
the house.” ,

_ ‘fThats a lie!" cried Beau excitedly. “He
is in the house—Murdered Sally Crapper, did
he? Follow me, gentlemen.”

 

CHAPTER II.
BEAU BINK Is SLIGHTLY SURPRISED.

BUT what has become of Bob Rockett? It is
no easy matterto escape from a home swarming
with policemen, and yet he had in some strange
manner given them the slip. But presence of
mind, uickness .Blld energy will accomplish
seeming y impossmle things, and these were the
only agents used by Bob in his extraordinary

escape. ,.

No matter how sharp men may be the are
apt to overlook slight contin encies, and leave
open loopholes through whic a resolute man
my safely slip.

bus the officers delegated to search by way of
the back stairway, which led up as we are
aware, to the passageway back of lSeau Bink’s
room, imagined that they had taken every ne-
cessary precaution when‘they left one of their
number on guard at the foot of the stairs, while
two others ascended to the upper storiesand
searched every room which they met.

Bob, at the rear door of Bean‘s room, had,
through a slight opening, seen these two men
make their appearance at the head of the stairs,
and stop a moment to decide upon their next
movements. The fugitive grasped in his hands
the heavy shoes which he
his feet, and a stern look came upon his face as
honsaw the two men start forward along the
ha .

They slowly advanced through the dark pas-
sage until they reached the two doors which
opened nearly opposite each other, on the two
sides of the entryway.

Here they stopped again for a moment’s talk
in low tones, and then they tried these two
doors. They were not lecked, and readily opened
to their touch.

“I don’t fancy that there’s much show in
here,” said one of the men. “ It does not look
well got up forahiding—place. Isuppose, though,
we’d best take a look inside."

They entered the two rooms. Here was the
opportunity for which Bob had waited, and on
which he had calculated as a possibility,

In an instant he slipped through the door of
Bean’s room, and hurried along the entry, the
light step of his stockin ed feet making no sound
upon the floor. The ack ot‘ the officer was
turned toward him as he slipped past the door
of one of the rooms, and rapidly glided toward
the stairs.

At this moment the officer came from the 0P-
posits room, calling out to his comrade:

“Nothing here, Phil. How does your hunt
pan out?” ,

“ Not worth shucks,” came in a growl from
the other room. “There s not a rat here.”

Bob had paused in his quick flight, and floor!
pressed close against the wall of the shadow?
passage, not ten feet from them. He held 11.8
breath. and s in a crouching attitude, wilt
ready to make a tiger’s leap upon them if dis-
covered. , . \

But, quite unconscious of the presence Of 8
living being so near them, the oflioers he?”
thought of looking back over the path by Whmh
they had just come. 0n the contrary. they
walked forward to the other end of the passage
and entered Beau Bink’s room.

ad just taken from '

    

 
 
  
    
 

     

" .onqw-r,'-‘wunr w - "

 

firth I m; .4 .. .l r - TI, imam r"
301) Rockett’o Fight for Life. . 5
Bob Rockett remained alone in the passage, hands on him! Here are two rooms. He may

but how he was to escape was not so evident.
It would be folly for him to make his way to
the upper story, He stood for amoment in deep
thought, and With something of the feeling of a
ca ed fox.

at we must leave him in this difficult posi-
tion for the present, surrounded by his enemies,
and not knowing which way to turn to escape,
and go back to trace the further movements of
these enemies.

As we have seen, the announcement to Beau
Bink that the crime with which the fugitive was
charged was not robbery, but murder, had
worked a marked revolution in the feelings of
that worthy. He had been a thief and pick—
pocket all his life. And yet, with all this, he
was really soft-hearted, and would not have
done a personal injury to a fly.

The very idea of murder was abhorrent to
him. But the murder of Sally Crapper! one of
his best friends, and a woman to whom he owed
athousand favors! That wastoo much. Had
Bob Rockett been his 7 twin-brother he would
have turned against him on that score, and he
put himself at the head of the officers with a
touch of bloodhound ferocity.

Beau sprung hastily to t e back door of his
room, w ich he flung open, crying in a loud
voice:

“This way!
Follow me I”

Buta heavy hand {fell upon his shoulder and
drew him back into the room. He turned to
encounter the keen gaze and cynical smile of
the rincipal ofllcer.

“ 0t so fast, my dear friend,” said this latter,
sarcastically. “ Did you never hear of the
bounds running past the fox’s lair? Suppose
you repress your enthusiasm a little, and we
will go to work on our principle of ‘ slow and
sure.’ I preferto begin by takingalook through
this room.”

“Oh, you would!” replied Beau, with equal
sarcasm. “ Go ahead, then."

The sharp-eyed thief-taker looked around the
room with one of those keen observations which
nothing escapes. But the only hiding-place
which the apartment afforded was the closat, as
he quickly perceived, and he threw open the
door of this and glanced Within. It was a nar-
row opening, not more than a foot in de th,
holdin Beau Bink’s very slim stock of clot es.
but a ording no hiding-place for a fugitive of
Bob Rockett 5 dimensions.

“ That is empty, at all events,” remarked the
ofllcer, as he shut the door of the closet, and
turned the ke . which stood in the lock.

The murderer went this way!

“ There‘s one be e closed to our fox,” he contin— .,

ued. as he handed Beau the key. “Here’s the
way to your wardrobe, my friend. Lead on.
now— But, stay. You, Joe, take your stand
out here. on the landing at the head of the
stairs. We will make a drive through the rear
passages.”

The group of men vanished from the room,
by the two doors, leaving Beau Bink’s apart-
ment to emptiness and silence.

“You are losing time,” cried Beau with en-
s “This way! He escaped by this door!
The internal murderer! Only let me get my

 

!
:!

 

be in them.”

“ Not in both at once, I fancy,” coolly replied
one of the officers. “ It is not two minutes since
we searched them. They don’t hold a mouse,
much less a man.”

The doors of these apartments still stood wide
open, as their late searchers had left them. The
suspicious leader of the party cast a quick glance
into each.

“ Are there any closets?” he asked.

It N0.”

“ Lead on, then. I fancy our man is not
there.”

Reaching the back stairway the party divided
into two, a part of them going down-stairs, the
remainder up toward the fourth floor. '

But the sentinel still stood at the bottom of
this flight, on the second floor, where he had
been stationed by his comrades. No one had
passed him, he declared.

Beau Bink, the leader of the searching party,
and another officer, ascended the flight to the
fourth floor.

“ He talked about the skylight,” remarked
Beau. “ But, if he’s got onto that root he’s a
gone sucker. It don’t communicate nowhere.
All the houses around are lower than this.”

An examination of the skylight quick] set-
tled that question. It was firmly bolted own.
Plainly. no one had esca )cd in that direction.
The rooms of this upper cor were again search-
edz with the same result as before.

‘ Bob Rockett isn’t a salamander. nor he isn’t
a witch as could make his way through a. key-
hole,” exclaimed Beau. “ But where in the blue
blazes he is, gets me. It ain’t ten mortal min-
utes since I had in two eyes on him.”

The leader of t 9 police, a grim look on his
face, led the way down the stairs. Here still
stood the man he had left on guard. No one
had passed him.

Beau fluu open the door of his room. The
officer push past him into the apartment.

“ I am not satisfied about those two back
l'oomS,” he said. “ We passed them too easdy.”

He was gone for a minute or two, but returned
with a dissatisfied face.

“ Nothing there,” he announced.

“ And nothing here ” replied Beau, “ except
you want to look into t e closet again. I don’t
calculate, though, that Bob Rockeit could get
them broad shoulders of his through the key-_
hole even if he was a witch.”

“I fancy not,” said the officer, with a jerk at
the locked door.

Beau felt in his pockets for the key.
not there.

“ I thou ht I heard something drop,” he mut-
tered. “ t has gone through that rascally hole
in my pocket, that I ought to had sewed up a
month ago.”

The ofllcer turned upon his heel and led the
way down-stairs. The lower part of the house
was again searched but as fruitlessly as before.

Beau scratched his head in deeper amazement
than ever.

“ He was here I’ll swear to that.” he averred.
“ I’ll be hanged if I thought Bob was, such a
cute sleightlol-hander. I’d give a jomt of! my
big toe to‘tell what’s ’come of him.”

It was"

 

8 Bob Rockett’a

 

  

Fight for Life.

 

The utilz'ci‘ looked at him with deep distrust.
He 'chLlOIltly put little faith in Bean’s profes-
sions.

“ You knew Sally Crapper?" he asked.

“ Knowed her! Why liked that woman bet-
ter'n I liked anvbody else on this rolling world.
She was a mighty good friend to me.”

" Then you had best keep an eye open for her
murderer. We will seta watch on this house,
though he will hardly return here. But you
know some of his haunts?”

“ Nary a haunt,” muttered Beau.

“It will be money in your pocket if you can
put us on his track. ’

“The deuce take your money!” cried Beau,
angrily. “ I ain’t that kind of a joker as sells
out their old friends for money. But, if he
really had a hand in murdering Sally Crapper,
I’d run him down worse than a bloodhound
would a runaway nigger. J ist put that clear in
my brain-pun, and I’m your boss.”

A conversation ensued, in which the officer
gave his reasons for this belief in Bob’s guilt.
after which the baffled party discontentedly left
the house, at a complete loss to understand how
their prey could have escaped them.

Beau returned slowly to his room, deeply
cogitating as he did so.

‘ I wouldn‘t believed that of Bob,” he said to
himself, as he raked the fire. “ Any little job
of crib-cracking he might be up to, for there
ain’t no sort of harm in that. But. when it
comes to smashing in a, Woman‘s head! I‘ll be
blessed if I know what sort of flesh and blood
some folks is made of.”

He raked vigorously at the fire.

“ That officer‘s a cute chap,” he shouted. “ By
the way, what ever become of that key?” ‘

There was a quick, snapping sound behind
him. He turned sharply around. I

“ Is this the key?” spoke a well-known VOice.

There, just emerging from the open closet ap—
peared the burly form of Bob Beckett!

To say that Beau was astonished would very
poorly express his state of mind on perceiving
this apparition.

He rose to his feet and backed slowly away as
thou h be had seen a ghost.

“ he deuce!” was the only sound that broke
from his lips, as he turned and dashed for the

beheld some powerful magician, or one vested
Willi supernatural powers.
mBob laughed as he took his old seat beside the
S VP.
“ Well, as long as the coast is clear, I will let
you into that little secret, too."

CHAPTER III.
THE GARLANDS AT HOME.

“ Cobweb hangings.” to the interior of a stylish
mansion on Fifth avenue, and of a room hung
with damask curtains. and furnished with the
most expensive upholstery, is a, broad step, but
we must ask the reader to take it with us.

mansion of Mr. Garland, the wealthy President
of the Provident National Bank; and the per~
sons )resent are this gentleman, a white-haired,
haugity, yet kindly~eyed relic of the last gen-
eration: his (laughter, Grace Essex 8. young,
beautiful, and charming lady, who looks yet in
the first bloom of youth, alt ough she has been
twice married; and his son-in-law, Paul Essex,
an erect, well-formed, handsome young man,
with the fraukest and most honest of faces.

She has been at the piano, rattling off the
newest and most lively of melodies, with her de-
voted husband liaiiging over her with all the
arrior of a young; lover.

But a quick exclamation from her father, who
is reclining in his easy-chair, busy over his
evening paper causes them both to turn.

Her ngers still play a light roulade upon the
keys as she calls out to her father: _

“ Why, what is the matter? No sudden fall in
stocks, I hope?"

Mr. Garland looked up with a disturbed ex-

to his serious visage.

“ No, no, Grace; it has nothin to do .with
business. But-I vow I.wouldn’t ave'believed
it of him! It is the most astonishin thing.”

The aper had fallen from his ands to the
floor. gaul sprimg forward and picked it up.

“ Nothing serious, I hope,” as he ran his eyes
quickly over the columns.

“ It is that murder which took place last night.
You read it. That brutal slaughter of awoman:

 

door.

But Bob was too quick for him. In an instant
he had him by the shoulder, and dragged him
back into the center of the room.

“One whimper of alarm, and PH burst in
that blockhead skull of yours,” cried the burly
raptor. “ What has become of all your new
friends, the police?”

” All gone.” gurgled out the frightened fellow.

“ And so you were goingr to turn on me, eh?”

“ Yes!” cried Beau, with sudden boldness.
“If you had a hand in murdering ponr Sally
Crapper, I’d blow on you if you was my gran -
father.”

“ Come, come, old chap,” remarked Bob, more
mildly. “I thought you knew me too well to

swallow such pap as that. I’m not murdering
yet, thank Heaven. Sit down here now, you
old fool till 1 tell you all about it.”

“ But how did you ever get into that closet?”

in a disreputable quarter down-town. A most
horrible business.” _

“But, father,” cried Grace. leavin the piano
and coming over to him, “why 5 cult! that
specially disturb you? Murders are, unfortu-
nately, very common occurrences nowadays.

“It is not that, Grace,” looking up into her
eyes with a pitying lance. “.11: Janet the. wo-
man—but you woud never imagine who has
been accused of her murder.”
Paul had by this time found the garagraph
which had so greatly disturbed the ol banker.
“ But what is he to us?” be asked, reading
from the paper. “ MichaelCra. per ahasRnsty
Mike, a well-known rough and urg'lar, who has
already served several terms in the penitentiary.
W by, it was he who was suspected of bemg con-
cerned in tbfittgitgow tgdrown you, Grace; that
ha iest of a urea. _

‘1‘)? remember,” replied Grace, 3 shudder pal;

 

asked Beau, still looking at Bob as though he

    

ing through her frame.
i

I
1

FROM Beau Bink’s dingy apartment, with its

The apartment in question is in the showy ,

pression, her light laughter calling up no smile

 

 

   

a». .

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on .

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“ M,»

* “life when this Mike sought to drown me.

‘ the crime of bi amy.”

 a" s

Bob Rockott's Fight for Life. 7

 

“But read onl” exclaimed Mr. Garland, im-
patiertly.

Paul‘s eyes hastily ran down the remainder of
they ’ aragra h, and then the per fell from his
ban 8, as a ight cry escaped is lips.

“Robert Beckett!" he exclaimed. “Why,
every one supposed he was dead! He alive and
accused of murder!”

“No, no!” came in shuddering tones from
Grace’s lips. “Not he! Oh, it cannotbe pos—
siblel”

“Yes, my dear,” replied her father, folding
his arm around her slender waist. “ He is ac-
cused of being concerned with Rusty Mike in the
murder of this woman. who, it seems, was Mike‘s
wx e. i

“ I do not believe it! There 1” she spoke
vehemently. “After all he has done for us,
too! You do not credit it, tether?”

“It seems incredible," re 'oined her father.

“To think of all he has one. He saved mHy

(2
saved me from being kidnapped. You know
that, Paul! And last of all hc saved me from

“I shouid ' e to know how?” asked her
father.

“He did his best to convince us that George
Delorme, my former husband, was living. And
suppose they had not tried to rob the bank—he.
would be still living- I would have been mar-
ried, and oh, what a horrible afi‘air that would
have been! And then we know that the leader
of the burglars struck him to the earth for try-
ingtosave Paul’s eyes. Are we to thank him
now, by behaving that he is a murderer?”

Her lips were white, her cheeks deathly pale,
but her eyes glittered with feverish intensity.

“ Come, come, my dear, you are too excit-
able,” said Mr. Garland, soothingly. “Read
the remainder of the paragraph. Paul. It may
be a mere unfounded suspicion.”

He drew his daughter close beside him, and
clasped his arms around her, as Paul resumed
his reading.

“ Two men were seen to leave the house be-

fore the murder was discovered,” he remarked.
“One was known to be Mike Crapper. The
other was a stranger. But the description giv-
en by the woman who saw him would answer
exactly for Beckett,” he continued, as he ran
his eyes further down the per. “Aha! this
does 'look serious! A roug , well-worn over-
coat was found in the room, with blood on its
sleeves. In one of its pocets was a handker-
chief stamped ‘R. Rockett.’ It also held a sil-
ver tobacco-case, with his name engraved on the
inside‘of the lid.” Paul shook his head doubt-
fully. “This, with the description of the man
in company with Rusty Mike, certainly
does look icious.”
' n true!” cried Grace vehemently,
starting from her father’s am. ‘There is
,some horrible mistake. He is incapable of such
‘a crime, I know he is. You don't believe it,
Paul?”

She-laid hex-hand: upon his arm, and looked
up imploring into his face.

“ Believe it Well, I don’t have your faith in
the man, Grace but I hardly think he is so bad
as that. The circumstances look very dubious,

 

it is true, but it does not do to trust too much to
circumstantial evidence.”

“ Is there anything more, Paul?” asked Mr.
Garland. “ Have any arrests been made?”

“ N 0. That is another bad feature of the case.
Rusty Mike has disappeared entirely. But the
police had sure notice that Rockett was con-
cealed in a house on Blair street, near the East
River. This house was surrounded and searched
from top to bottom. They had information
from one of its inmates that the fu ‘itive was in
the house when they entered it. at, in some
mysterious and unaccountable manner he
escaped them. How he could have left the
house through a cordon of policemen without
hem r seen is certainly an extraordinary again"

“ f he was conscious of innocence why ould
he seek to escape?” queried Mr. Garland. “ I
don’t like the looks of that.”

“ Because he is like a bare ursued by the
bounds!” exclaimed Grace. “ on have set
them on his track for that bank robbery, father.
And now some enem has sought to place this
murder at his door. 0 wonder the poor fellow
seeks to escape. You know that you have no
proof whatever that he was connected with
those bank robberies.”

“ Except that he himself threatened me to do
something of the kind.”

“ls that proof?” she asked, turning sudden]
toward him. “ Do burglars thus advertise the r
purposes? Is that proof, Paul?”

“ No,Grace. It seems to me rather in his favor.”

“Thank you. Oh, I do wish that those rob-
bers were arrested. I know that it would clear
him of complic1ty.”

“I declare,” exclaimed Mr. Garland, “ you
are an earnest partisan, Grace. But I fear you
are inclined to cling to your protege, right or
wrong.”

“ And suppose I ‘am? Think what he has done
for me! I would despise myself to desert him
now. If he is arrested and tried for this crime,
father, you must see that he is defended. We
owe that much to him.’

“ I will,” Mr. Garland replied, quietly.

“But how about that woman; that- rson,
whom George Delorme called his wife? he was
suspected and watched? Has nothing been dis-

covered?”

“ Nothing positive. She has had a number of
visitors, amon them Roger Glindon.”

“ I have no aith in him whatever,” she coldly
replied. “ He would be equal to bank robbing,
or any other enormity, in my opinion—But has
anything been discovered about that woman?
Is it known who she is?”

“ It is only known that Delorme brought her
here from the West."

“ Well, I don’t know that I have need to care.
The Delorme episode hasgone out of my life. It
matters little to me who she is. But I cannot
help doubting Roger Glindon.”

At a later hour. that evening, Grace accom-
panied her husband to the opera. A celebrated

taliau company was giving a series of enter-
tainments o the most. attractive character, and
the beauty and fashion of New York crowded
the boxes and seats of the o ra-honse.

For hours the vast audience was held spell-
bound by the charming music of Trovatore, so

/

 

Bob Rockott’s Fight for Life.

 

richly rendered, and it was with a sigh at the
breakincr of the charm that Grace rose from her
Seat an drew her opera-cloak around her.

The whole audience had risen, and was crowd-
ing toward the doors of the theater, in that
crushing fashion usually seen, as if the saving of
a. minute now was a matter of life and death.

Up the long aisles Paul and Grace were borne
as on the waves of an irresistible stream, and
into the wide vestibule, which was thronged with
the multitudes pourin out from the various
doors and down the wi e Stairways.

He touched her on the arm, and pointed over
the1 sea of heads to a distant part of the vesti-
bu e.

“ Yonder is an old friend of yours.”

“I recognize no one," she answered.
is it?”

“ Roger Glindon.”

“ Oh 1” She had just then caught sight of the
well-remembered face. “ And see, Paul, he has
a. lad with him. Can it be—”

“ eorge Delorme’s associate? Who knows?
Perhaps so.”

“I wish I could see her face. She keeps it
turned away.”

“ Oh! it cannot be as you suspect. He would
hardly be so bold. Never mind her, Grace.
Let us get out of this crush, and into our car-
riave.”

fat that was no easy matter. Step by step
they slowly made their way to the door. The
carriages were driving up and rapidly taking
away a portion of the crowding host, while the
great mass departed on foot to right and left,
seeking the nearest street cars.

At length Mr. Essex’s carriage was announced
and Paul and Grace made their way to the pave-
ment. Just then there came a surge of a new
mass from the door, causing a close jam on the
outer steps of the opera-house.

Immediately in front of them they perceived
the well-known form of R0 or Glindon. There
was a lady upon his arm, w om he seemed seek-
in' to protect from the crush.

aul and Grace were driven against them by
the pressure from behind, which almost causad
them to lose their footing on the steps.

“ Pardon me,” said Grace to the lady on
Roger’s arm, against whom she was roughly
jostfiled. “ I could not help it."

The fierson addressed looked around, with an
an ry ght in her eyes.

or a moment the two were face to face, with
a sudden pallor on each countenance, a repr
cry on their lips.

“ Grace Garland 1”

" Marie Ormistonl”

And then the surging crowd pushed between
and se ted them.

“ me to the carriage, Paul,” whispered
Grace, as she hung tremblineg u n his arm.
“The mystery is revealed. I fee as if I had

seen a ghost, or a——serpent.”
She could hardly support herself as he led her
across the wide pavement to the carriage.

CHAPTER IV.
PLANNING AND COUNTERPLANNING.
WITHIN a lar room of an extensive, but
rather dingy edi ce, in the lower portion of

us.

“ Who

 

Manhattan Island, a group of men were gath-
ered. The apartment was very sparsely furnish
ed. A large desk in one corner, with igeon-
holes overflowing with papers, on which t e dust
of centuries seemed to have collected; along,

narrow table in the center of the room, and ,

around it a half-dozen chairs, whose occupants
could find no bet’sr resting-place for their feet
than the surface of the table between them.

They were all smoking as industriously as if
smoking were one of the essential duties of life.

One only of the group was otherwise occu ied.
He sat, with his feet crossed on the roun s of
his chair, and leaned forward over the table,
diligently examining a sort of map, which lay
spread open before him.

It was the same person who had led the
searching party at the house in Blair street, the
result of which we have already described. The
same cynical, distrustful smile rested upon his
face, as he followed the lines of the map ‘with
his finger. ‘

“ We have pretty thoroughl used up the
fellow’s town haunts” he remar ed. “ To tell
the truth, men I didn’t expect to find him in
any of them. lint the rule is, you know, to use
up the likely places first, and try the unlikely
I) aces afterward. Now where are the most un-

ikel places for us to find Rust Mike?" .

“ n the top of Trinity steep e,” growled one.

“ Taking an airing on the battery,” suggested
a secon

“Or a morning constitutional on the Mall in -

the Park,” put in a third.

“ Go on, boys, if you think there is no here-
after,” grum led the ~ first speaker. “ The
Scriptures say ‘Answer a fool according to his
folly ;’ and I certainly was a fool to ex t a
sensible answer from any ofiyou. Now Ingcde—
cidedly of the opinion that ike has shaken the
dust of the cit from his feet.”

“ Emigra to Arizona, perhaps.”

“ Or on a sum mer tour to Niagara Falls.”

A laugh passed around the room, which seemed
to vex the man with the map. His grizzled mus-
tache twisted uneasily upon his lip as he looked
up at his jesting companions.

“See here,” he cried, with some flercenoss of
accent. “I didn’t come to play the baby, or to
crack jokes on the head of a murderer. When
I lay myself out for business I mean business.
If you want to play a game of wig-wag after-
ward, I’ll leave you a clear field.”

The laughter was redoubled.

“But what is your opinion, Foster?” asked
one of the others. “ It Is very evident that we
have none.”

“ I’ve a notion that our man has struck for
Staten Island. He has hiding-places down that
way. Down here, Joe. This is the route we
followod when We tracked him after that last
cribccracking. Hereaways lies Jerry’s caboose,
where we nabbed him then.” ,

“ You don’t calculate he’s fool enough to fol-
low the same track?" 3

“ I’m talking about unlikely places” rejoined
Foster, looking up. “It’s more likely that he
has struck down this way, near the shore. There
are several doubtful places along that locality.
Down here at Squintvllle for instance. That is
worth investigating. A pair of you can look

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Bob Rockett’s Fight for Life. "

 

through that ancient and most honorable metro—
polis of Spoiled fish and odorous oysters. Here’s
your track, Joe. And this will be a fair field for
you, Tom." He traced lines on the map with his
fin or as he spoke.
be men bent over the table, curiously scan-

ningBthe work laid out for them.

‘9 ut, what ground have you left for your-
self?” asked one.

1“ I will try the unlikely places,” he answered.
“ I sent a squad out into Jersey this morning
and another up Long Island. But I’ve a notion
that we’ve got the best ground. Twoto one but
we find him.”

“ And how about Bob Rockett?”
mgpster dashed his hand vigorously upon the

e.

“ I’ll be hanged if I ain’t nonplused for one,”
he ejaculated. “ Who would have thought that
a greenhorn like that would be smart enough to
throw our whole force astray? There’s one
thing, thou h, my boys, we haven’t got his bear-
ings yet. at’s always one difficulty with a
new hand. If it’s an old stager, we know all his
whys and wherefores. He hasn’t an firth but
what some hound has had his nose at the hole.
But the whole pack is astray with these new
foxes. There’s nothing for it ut to follow their
scent. We can’t head them off.”

" That’s true,” answered J 0e.

“ But about that affair in Blair street?”
queried another. “I wasn’t on that; but you

> were sure of your game there. How came it to

fail?"
“ Don’t ask me." Foster shortly replied. “ The
cha must have felt the wind of our coming and
e his esca . He was not there, that is sure.
But we foun that smirking rascal of a Beau
Bmk and you never saw a pickpocket so con-
foundedly anxious to sell his old friends. There

' was something behind it all, I’ll swear that; but
r han me if I can make it out.”

“ ave his other known resorts been
searched?”

“Why, what in the sin do you take us for?
0! course we’ve ferreted out every rat-hole and
left an n trap everywhere for our man to
walk in. _

“He may be in the Blair street den yet,”
en the one who had spoken before.
“ ouldn’t it pay to make an unexpected call in
that uarter?”

“ ere’s human nature again,” Foster sarcas-
tically replied. “‘If I’d only been there, you
know, they wouldn’t have shut my e es in . I’d
have seen thro h them.’ Thatst e 01 song
that’s been sung since the days of Adam. Why,
han it all, man. do you fancy that I haven’t
I; eyesight? Go down and try it on for your.
self if you think so.” .

“ No offense. Mr. Foster,” replied the
a de recating tone. “ I only thou ht— .

“ f course you only thought. on think too
much. Don’t trouble yourself about that con-
cern. The housejs under strict guard). Nothing
will at in or out very conveniently._’

\ “ gut mayn’t thishe one of the unlikely places
you he of?" asked Joe, with a laugh. _

' “ es, most monstrously unlikely,’ reJoinen
Foster, as he folded up his map and replaced it
in his pocket. “Come, gentlemen, we must to

ather, in

 

work. Rusty Mike is our game now. I will
try and lay a parallel to corner up our sk -
Rockett, w an I can get my thinking organs
good working order.’
There was then an immediate opening of
closets, utting on of overcoats, (for the day
was a 0 ill one, though it was late in the
spring), an examining of wea us, with a
small arsonal of which each 0 car provided
himself.

In a few minutes more, all their arrangements
perfected, they left the room, each to take
is part, as laid out by their superior, in the
search for Rusty Mike.

 

But we must return to that locality which
Foster thought such a monstrously unlikely
hiding-place for Bob Rockett—~to the sumptuous-
1y upholstered apartment of which Beau Bink
was so proud. '

We left that well—satisfied householder in a
state of surprise and alarm at the unexpected
ap earance of Bob Rockett from his closet.

eau, with his tall lank figure half-doubled
up on his chair, sat stariu in dismayed silence
at his guest, utterly at a oss what to make of
such a strange feat of metamorphosis.

“ How long have you known me?” asked Bob.

“ Amatter of ten years, I reckon,” answered
Beau, surlily

“ And di you ever Know me to do a. mean or
dirty trick?”

u N_no l7,

" And yet you go back on your old friends
the minute any rascally policeman chooses to
hum in your ear. I’m ashamed of you, Beau
my?” ” .th d ’ 11 h ”

tidy? un erin squa y, any ow, grum-
bled Beau.‘ 1‘2

“ It’s a lie, for all that, take my word for it!”
retorted Bob, half-angrily. “ That infernal
coat looks bad, I’ll admit that; and it’s best
for me ’to keep out of sight until I can show 1
up how it got there. But as for helping to
kill Sally Crapper, I’d have liked nothing bet
ter than to catch that black-muzzlod hound at
it. Han me if there wouldn’t have been a
Rusty M1 e the less in the world! Do you be-
lieve me, Beau?”

There was the true ring of sincerity in his
voice. Beau looked at him dubiously.

“ Was it you that left the house with Rusty
Mike after the murder?”

H Yes.”

This was an unexpected answer. He had look-’
M‘Fhladenial' B b 'r ’tstra' ht

amem e es, 0 ,1 ouaren I up
and down, adyd’ow!” exclaimed Beau. “%an
it all, I can’t swaller it that you had any ban
in that devilish business.”

“ If I had, Beau, I’d go hang myself. But I
don’t intend to let the authorities hang me for
another man’s work.” . .

There was some admiration 1n Bean’s fishy
eyes as he leaked again at his companion.

“ How did you fling them policemen?” he
asked, curiously. “ That’s jist the neatest job 1
ever heerd on. How did you come inter that
closet?” l

“ You had better sew up the holes in your
pocket,” laughed Bob.

 

10 r Bob Rockett’a Fight for Life.

“ Yes, I know that key dropped through. But
blame me if you didn’t somehow push through
a smaller hole! It jist 'ts me.”

“ Do you remember w en those two men came
into our room?” ’

“ sartainly do.” ,. 4

“ Well, that settled the whole job. I was just
then squeezed against the wall of the entry, as
tight as a shadow against a brick wall. They
had searched the two rooms out there, you
know. / But as soon as their backs were turned
I sli ped into one of those rooms.”

“ ut the officers searched them rooms twice
afterward,” cried Beau, in surprise.

“Only once,” replied Bob, positively. “The
first time they only looked in at the open door.
If that sharp-eyed chap had taken a squint be-
hind the door then, I am afraid it would have
been all up with my bacon. I was looking out
at him through the crack of the door, and just
wondering what was the next card to pay,
when he was kind enough to carry his ugly phiz
out of sight.”

“ Laws bless us!“ ejaculated Beau, in admira-
tion. “ That was a narrer squeak.”

“ The rest was all plain sailin ,” continued
Bob. “After they had passed, slipped out,
picked us your key, which I saw shining on the
floor, an , as I had happened to hear that little
confab about your clwet door, I saw my way
clear as sunlight. I slipped in here, locked my-
self in the closet, and laughed in my sleeve at
the whole party of you.”

Beau started up and clapped his hands.

“ Well, if you ain’t a cool one I’ll be blowed.
Why, if I’d done sich a thing Pd ’8) shivered
down clean inter my boots, when the officers
come back.”

“ I ain’t that kind," answered Bob, cooll .

, Beau sat and stared at him for sever min-
Ifiitg, as if not quite knowing what to make of

“I guess maybe ou kin hide about here till
dark, he muttere . “ And then you mought
slip out unbeknowns. I s’pOSe you’ve got a hid-
ing- lace laid out?” /

‘ es,” answered Bob, quietly.

“ Where?" '

(( Here.”

Beau stretched his lank figureto its utmost
hight, and looked down in utter astonishment on
his stra. e visitor.

It  1

“ Yes. I guess you can make it comfortable
for me.”

“But goodness gracious, man, are you goin'
clean daft? Why you mought as well take up
your quarters in the police court at once.”

“That’s a good idea, Beau. Perhaps [will
next,” aaswe ed Bob, as be stretched himself
out in his chair, thrust his hands dee 1y into his
pockets, and looked at his astounded ost.

“But the idear of your bunkin’ here. Why,
they’ll nab you afore long.”

‘ You oid fool,” Bob curtly answered,
“ haven’t you wit enough to see that this is just
the best hiding-place in the whole cit of New

, York? Do you generally get in front 0 a man’s

track to escape him, or behind it?
“ Behind it."
“ Well, that is just what I am doing. The

 

_.

police have been past here. I don’t calculate
that they will double back on their trail, so I
guess I will bunk With you for awhile."

Beau groaned as he gazed at his visitor. He
was not altogether leased with this idea.

“ But I am as ungry as a wolf, my boy.
Can’t you get me upla trifle of dinner?”

“I ain’t got not ing in the house,” muttered
Beau. “Jist you hang on here, and I’ll go out
and scare up something,” -

"Come back here, you blunder-headed old
rogue! None of that!” roared Bob. “I like
you too well to lose sight of you. There’s a boy
I saw on the floor below who looked asif he
might be a sharp young rat for an errand. Sup-
pose you just Whistle him up.”

Utterly defeated, Beau proceeded to obey, Bob,

keeping a keen eye upon his movements.

CHAPTER V.
AN UNEXPECTED MOURNEE.

A'r a rural cemetery, a few miles north of the
city of New York, a ve had been 0 ned in a
neglected corner of t e grounds, and t e grave-
digger and his assistant were waiting in stolid
patience for the coming of the expected occu.
pant of this humble sepulcher.

The old man sat on the corner of a broad
marble slab, which recounted the virtues of
some long-dead individual who lay below. His
hands gras the handle of his spade on the
top of whic rested his chin, while his leared
eyes were fixed with curious interest on the face
of his companion.

The latter, a much youn er man, leaned against
a tall tombstone, his lips usin mumbling over
the tobacco which he had plunged within his“
cavernous jaws.

“ Poor gal! I knowed her rients as well as
I knowed my own,” remark the old man, in a
wheezy voice. “She were a prime good gal,
too; but everybody said, when she married
that ggod-for-naught, as she’d jist‘ flung herself
away.

“ That’s how they’re a—burying of her out
hereaway then?” "

“’Zackly, ’zackly. She b’longs in these yere
diggin’s. As fur that Mike Crapper, Iknowed
it. I allers said it. He was a sort 0" fresh-look-
iu’, spry teller in them days; but any fool could
see that he had bad born in him.”

“ We’re allers so good in seein’ that, arter a.
néahn’s bruug to the gallows,” mumbled the
0 er.

“But you go on, Toby. I didn’t want to in-
terrupt , on. So the poor critter was found with
her h smashed in, eh'l”

“ Clean smashed,” answered Toby, with a sigh.
“ You see it were this-a-way. Rusty Mike had
many a scrimmage with his wife, so the nebbors
say, in the which he’d cuss away like a water-
wheel in full blast, an’ she scurse say her life
were her own. Well, this day he‘d been a-cuss-
in’ like a fifty-boss runaway inglne, and Sal got
her dander up and gi’n him as ood as he sent.
The could hear it over the who ehouse, an’ some
0' t e folks would ha‘ put the’r oar in, on‘y he
was sich a rascally ugly divil to deal with.
they ke t mum.”

“ Wis I’d a—bin there," mumbled the old man
over his spade.

 

/

 

“use

 

Bob Rockett’a Fight for Life. 11

 

“8’ you had. you old jockey; what’d you
ha’ done?” asked Toby. satirically. “ The idea
.of_ a rotten old log 0’ wood like you meddlin’
With sich a rough as Rusty Mike. Well, ther’
comes a heavy tumble. and then a hollow roan,
and then all was still. Some of the f0 '3 did
run down then, but there stood Mike outside
his door, a-‘glowerin’ on ’em, and askin’ what
the blazes _they wanted meddlin’ atween a man
and his Wife? He looked so black and stormy-
hke that they all backed off, arter some on ’em
he‘d ’n him a piece 0’ the’r minds.”

. .nd was she a-lyin" there murdered all that
time?" asked the old man.

“ 1’u1 comin’ to that. Ain’t a-goin to shove
on the storytoo rapid, for fear it won’t hang
out. Anyways ther’ weren’t any more noise,
and folks went about the’r own bizness, ‘specting
that it didn’t come to nothiu’. In them diggin’s,
ya know, it weren’t a very onusual matter to
Silence a woman’s tongue by a tap on the head.”
. “Jist so,” muttered the old man. “ There’s
tunes they need it. I’d tried it on my own old
oman more an on’st. only she‘s ginerally too
Spry and gi‘ns me the tap fu‘st."

“ ‘ Anyhow. an hour arter,” continued Toby,

some of the ncbbors see’d Mike streakin’ away
from the house, like a hang-dog as he is. He hcd
With him another chap as the papers thinks is a
coon they call Bob Rockett. Them two were
17W! ged leavin’ the door 0’ the house together.
We , mebbe an hour, mebbo two hours arter,
When a good woman 0’ the ’stablishment was a-
comiu’ along the entry, what should she see but
'a little red line that looked like lilOod, a—runnin"
from under Mike‘s door. ”

“ The ood Lord guide us!" exclaimed the
old man, olding up his hands in horror.

“ You kin bet ther was a time,” resumed
, Tob . “ That woman lets out a yell that brung
the ull house down in the shake of a cow’s ear.
The door was locked, but looks weren’t nowhere
More that, crowd. They jist bu’sted it in
quicker’n l1 tnin’. An‘ sich a sight as there
Were afore t eml Nobody never see’rl the like.”

Toby fell into gloomy silence, and commenced
to bite at a bunch of grass, which he had pulled
up from the grave mound.

The old man’s hands shook with excitement as
he let fall the spade. He sprung up and caught
Toblyaby the shoulder, shakin him violently.

. '1‘ ts jist like you, Toby lake. What was
it they soon? Tell me now. or I’ll brain you
With the spade. " .

Toby laughed at the assault of his veteran
comrade. But he resumed his story. ‘

“ There laid the cold corpse of poor Sally

1‘8. per. Stone dead, and With a hole in her

68 you could be} put ycr fist 1n. The woman

ad bin hit with a heavy bludgeon,_w1th a knob
011 the end as big as a cocoanut. Mlke bed lifted
v her onto the bed. but there was a pool. 0‘ blood
on the floor, that come tricklin’. tI‘lCFIm’ 9410118,
till it crept out under the door, jist like—”

“Jist like the finger of God pomtln out the
murderer I” broke in the old man. 93(01 dbl
“ The bloody cut-throat!" continued Toby.
Ther’ weren‘t never no good in him. But there
were a. 'r of ’em. fur that matter. They found
this Boleockett’s coat a hangin’ overa cheer~

k In _e' room, with his han’kercher and hls

it

 

 

tobacco-box in the pockets. If they both don’t
get the’r necks stretched then ther’s no justice in
the land.”

“ That’s what you thinks of it, you bald—head-
ed fooll" came a hoarse voice behind them, caus-
ing them to spring up and turn around with
startling haste.

There stood a tall, burly fellow dressed in
rough frieze, his coat buttoned to his chin, his
bony, embrowned, ferocious face covered with
a stubby heard of o. week’s growth, while the
matted hair that hung over hlS eyes was filled
with bits of hay, revealinfi the nature of his
lodgings of the previous ni t.

The rave-diggers gaze at this apparition,
which ind emerged from behind a tall grave-
stone, with startingeyes, while they showed an
inclination to back away from such a dangerous
neighborhood.

“ Mike Crapper!” ejaculated the old man.

“Rusty Mikel” exclaimed Toby, his sinewy
fingers knotting themselves around the handle of
his 5 ade.

“ one of that now,” came in fierce tones from
Mike. “ I’ve got a little bit of a persuader yero
in my pocket, and I’d like the pair 0’ ye to bear
in mind that foolin’ won’t pay.”

He drew from his pocket a huge, old—fash—
ioned revolver, which he cocked with a. click like
that of a musket.

“ It ain’t none 0’ er funny nic—nacs,” 111‘
sourly remarked. “ ut don’t you go fooliu’,
that’s all.”

“ What brings you here?" cried Toby.

“ ’Tain’t out o‘ the way fur a man to ’tend his
wife’s funeral. I calkerlate.” growled Mike.

“Why didn’t you think of that afore you
murdered her?” asked the old man, with sturdy
indignation. ,

“ ’Cos I never murdered her,” answered Mike,
stolidly. “Why, Sally Crap er was the only
critter I loved in the world. is was Bob Rock-
ett snagged her, blast him, and now they’re
a—tryin’ to lay the whole thing on me. ’Spcct
they‘ll hang me fur it too, if they nab me. See
here, b0 5, yer ain’t got no ’jection to a poor
feller ta in’ a last look on his wife?”

There was a sort of pathos in Mike’s tone.
The two men looked at each other for a moment.

“It’s human, I s’pose, and I wouldn‘t be a.

Christian to stand ag’in‘ that,” was the old . ’

grave-digger ’s comment.

“ And hang me if I’d stand in the way of a
dog, in sich a case as that,” exclaimedToby
energetically. “See here, Mike. We’ll gi’n e
time for a look, and then let ya git outsuie .t e
grave-yard wall. But urter that it’s pull Dick,
pull devil. Ye’ve got to trust to yer own le .”
“ ery well,” answered Mike. “That’s al 1
ask.” '

Certainly the few days which had ’elapsed ,

since the murder had made a marked change in
his appearance. The bold and [somewhat brutal
feroc1ty of his ordinary bearing had given way
to a hang-dog look, and something of the fur-
tive expression of a cornered fox, who feels him-

self almost in the power of enemies hungering

for his life.

At this moment lm cove a start as if a knife I

had been plunged deep into his flesh, while an
unearthly pallor spread over his countenance.



is»; .’

wreak :- .

J’s; ~"<

 

12

 

Bob Rockett’l Fight for Life.

  

 

He had indeed been struck; but in his soul, not
in his flesh. It was the single, thrilling, loud-
vibrating tone of a bell which had struck the
murderer to the heart, the first peel of the
chtfirch-bell tolling over the corpse of his slain
W1 6.

Again came that thrilling peal. Mike, with a
face working with some deep feeling, pressed
his hands firmly over his ears. and backed step
b step away, as it every deep clang of the
Vibrating bell struck him to the soul.

“ Ah, stop it!" he cried in a tone of deep emo-
tion. “May the fiends take that fool that’s at
that hell!"

But the funeral cortege was entering the
cemeter . It wound through the narrow gato-
way in rant of the low church, and by a devi-
ous way among the graves toward the retired
corner where poor Sally Crapper’s grave had
been dug.

The procession was of some length. The
friends of the deceased in the city were too poor
to be able to follow her remains to this rural
situation, but many of her I\;outht‘ul acquain-
tances still lived in this neig borhocd, and the
whole district around had been excited by the
news of the murder, and crowded to behold the
obsequies of the poor slaughtered woman.

Ste bfi ste as the procession filed past the
churc , t e be i tolled out its dismal tidin s of
death, and the miserable. crouching bus and
pressed his hands more tight] over his ears,
while his whole frame seeme to writhe with
agony.

The ave reached, they gathered thickly
around it, while the grave-diggers, with hands
that involuntarily trembled, proceeded to lower
the plain coflln into the narrow excavation.
They could not but think of the man crouched
out there behind that tall, marble slab.

But the tolling bell had ceased its lugnbrious
peel, and the clergyman proceeded with the
funeral service, the cortege gathering reverent-
ly around. 011 the outer ed 6 of the throng
stood a man that seemed to t ose who noticed
him to be some road tramp, whom the sight of
the procession had drawn within the cemetery.

Little notice was taken of the intense eager-
ness with which he seemed to listen to the ser—
vice. nor did any one observe the writhing ex-
pression of his features as the falling clods from
the hands of the gravedigger rattled upon the
wooden top of the coffin.

A few minutes more and the procession again
began to move, walking in to the grave and tak-
ing its last look u in the outer covering of the
corpse that lay be ow.

Solemuly the mourners moved on, gathering
again around the grave after passing it and ob-
ssrving those who followed. What was their
surprise to behold, at the extreme end of the

rooession, the ill-looking, disreputable, tram -
ike individual whom many of them had alrea y
observed. He walked slowly up with downcast
head, the grave-diggers drawing back as if from
contamination, as he approached.

He beat long over the grave, while those
nearest to him fancied they saw the glitter as
of a tear in his eyes. Whispers passed through
the throng. Who could this man be? Some

old acquaintance! ,

A moment more, and then, liftin his head
and gazing with a gloomy, somew t defiant
expression upon the surrounding throng, he
walked slowly away.

He left the locality of the grave and walked
to the further side of the cemetery, followed by
a hundred curious eyes.

Tel) nudged his older companion.

" \ c was to give him past the wall,” he whis-
pered. “ I’ll swow if he ain’t a-goin to make fur
the furthest well he can find.”

“ Looks like it.” was the sententious answer.

The eyes at the assembly followed him as he
commenced to climb the low wall.

“ Who in the world is he?” asked one of them.
“Does anybody know?”

“ Yes.” It was Toby Blake who anSWered.

“ Ha! who is he, then?” came in a dozen
voices.

Toby kept silent for a minute, during which
the fugitive rested upon the wall. looking back
toward the crowd t at surrounded the grave.
Then he leaped down to the ground outside.

“ It’s Rusty Mike!” roared Toby, suddenly.
“It’s Mike Crapper! It’s the murderer! We
promised not to hlow on him till he was opt of
the grave-yard. He’s got his start now! After
him, men! After him l”

Flinging down his spade, Toby leaped across
the ad 'oining grave, and started in furious
flight a ter the escaping murderer.

His thrilling cry had rung like a trumpet-call
in the ears of all present, and ever man, and
half the women, rushed at full after him.

'In a minute or two more the mass of the pur-
suers were over the wall of the yard. and had
disappeared to the eyes of those about the
grave. Tob still led in the chase.

With asig the old man resumed his Ede,
and flung a. spadeful of dirt in upon the co .

“The time was when I’d been first in m'ch a
chase myself.” he muttered. “ But my old
bones is getting stiff. And somehow, for all
he’s sich a villain, I'd like to see the man git of!
this bout. There was a. somethin’ solemmfying
about his behavior."

He commenced to shovel the dirt into the
grave, the rattle of clods upon the coflln forming
a strange accompaniment to the cries of the pur-
suers of the flying murderer.

CHAP-r—EE VI.
HOW HARRY TODD TOOK BOB KOCH”.

s

as sharp as a first-class steel-trap.
had been made for a rson twice his size, and

bean-pole, while it was as thoroughly ventilated
as though it had done dutyas a sieve. -

A cap without visor was pulled desperately
down over his strag ling locks; and one might
have thought that his clothes had been flung at
him, and stuck wherever they happened total],
to judge by his happyvgoluckv aspect.

Yet little all this troubled Young America as
he went whistling along, swinging a basket in
his hand. in which wére a on of bread and
other articles of food.

“ Hey, youngiter! Been early to market this
morning, eh?” V
. The boy looked around. The man who ad-

\

 

    

HE was a little, blue-eyed fellow. but he looked '
His jacket .

hung on him as limp y as an overcoat on a'

  

,u .n‘.‘

 

 

l'l

 

 

Bob Roclu tt’s Fight for Life.

18

 

dressed him was a long-faced individual, wear-
ing a liceman’s uniform. The lad examined
hllgn rom head to foot with a scrutinizing

lice.
“I don’t know as you sent me,” he answered,
im udently.

’ he boy went whistling on, as if he had set-
tled the whole question.

f‘ See here, you cross- ained rag-picker,”
cried the man angrily. “ s that the way you
expect to get through the world, giving impu-
dent answers to every civil uestion?”

‘ I expect to git along ten in’ to my own biz-
ness,” rejoined the boy.

He changed his tune and walked independ—
ently on, whistling “Little Buttercup " with a
ro’lll‘ilcking alir. bed

eman an and can ht thebo b the
shoulder. g ’ g y y

“Say, my young coon, don’t you want to
make a quarter this morning?”

“ Guess so," and the boy lost the thread of his
‘tune in his sudden interest. “ Wouldn’t go back
on makin" a dollar if there weren’t too much
hard work in it. "

_ “It is only to answer a civil question. You
live in that house?” pointing to a neighboring
edifice.

“ Kinder,” answered the boy.

:: fin’t there atMIrilBink livies thfire?”

_ you wai 0 an as in dadd .
Ain’t sure myself.” g y y

“Here’s your quarter,” remarked the man,
showing the silver piece promised.

“ That sorter helps my memory,” rejoined the
boy. “Now I come to think on it there is sich
a chap there.”
t0“rlsn’t it he that you are doing the marketing

1‘ .

“Kinder,” answered the boy.

“ He is etting rich, I suppose, that he hires
anerrand- y?”

“He’s a regular Vanderbilt,” replied the keen
Young'i'ogue. “Guess his uncle’s pegged out
and left him a fortune. Good-by; ’cept you’ve
got another quarter to invest.”

“No,” laughed the man, “I‘m afraid I’ve
wasted my first. Toddle ahead. my little sou,
Mr. Bink must be waitin_ for his dinner.”

Striking again into “ ittle Buttercu ,” the
boy went whist'ing away, swinging his asket
like the pendulum of a town-cloc .

The man who had been questioning him
lounged across the street, and toward the neigh.
boring corner where he accosted a person who
was negligently leaning against the sign of a
Cigar sho .

“He’s' here.”

“ Sure?”

_“ I’ll go a high wager on it. Anyhow, I’m going
to prove the pudding. I didn’t care to_question
the boy too close, but when a fellow like Beau
Bmk ‘res an errand boy there’s, a screw loose
somewhere. Foster laughed at the idea, but he’ll
feel cheap it I take his bird.”

It was the man who had proposed another

search of the Blairstreet house duringthe meet~
in at the police oflice. /

«awhile the boy had entered that establish-
ment, Whistling louder than ever as he crossed
the doorway. ,

 

But his tune suddenly reused as soon as he was
fair] inside. Flinging the basket upon his
sliou der he shot up the stairs like an arrow. and
in a minute had flung open the door of Beau
Billk’s‘ apartment, and entered that boasted
domicile.

That self—satisfied householder was seated in a
doubled-u p attitude back of the stove, gazing fur-
tively at his unwelcome companion. who had
tilted his chair back against tle wall, and was
smokin away in a most iionchalant manner.

But t ey both made a bust movement at this
abrupt entrance of the boy, eau rising so sud-
denl that his chair toppled over on the floor.

“ hat the blazes iii 5 you, comin’ in in that
fashion?” he angrily asked.

“ ’Cause why, it’s ’bout time to be gittin’ up
and gittiu’,“ rejoined the lad, as he upsot the
basket on the table. pouring out its contents in-
discriminately. “ There’s a peeler outside.
He’s been axin’ me all sorts of imperdent ques-
tions’.7 He didn't git much, though, ’cept street
sass.

“ The devil take you I” cried Bob, springing up
and seizing the boy by the shoulder. “ I’ll bet a
cow ou’ve let the cat out of the bag.”

“ ary,” answered the boy, defiantly. “ But
if you know which side your bread’s buttered,
you‘ll ‘t, instanter.”

“ W y, Top, said Beau, in alarm. “I hope
you haven’t told any yarns? This gentleman is
only my cousin from Chicago.”

‘ That‘s a mighty neat dodge. But the perlice
weren’t here t’other day for nothin‘, you bet. I
kalkerlate yer cousin had jist best make streaks
for Chicago ag‘in. I ain‘t no fool—now you bet
on that, too.” '

He walked independently from the room. the
two men continuing to gaze with some alarm at
each other.

“The jig’s up,” growled Bob.

“You'd best do as the boy says—streak it,”
suggested Beau.

“ Yes, with a book. This is the frying-pan,
maybe, but I ain’t Jack enough to jump square
into the fire."

“ You ain‘t goin’ to stay here?” in alurm.

“ Why, the weather is getting hot about here,”
answered Bob in his quiet way. “ But it‘s boil-,
ing just now out of doors. I’ll wait till it cools
down a bit.”

He nouchalnntly resumed his seat and his pipe.
laughing at Beau, who roamed the apartment
like one in a frenzy.

“ I wish Old Nick had you!” he cried. “What
brung you here. anyways? I was a-livinlever
so quiet and neat, and here you comes to git me
into trouble. I’d give five hundred dollars, if I
had that much to spare, to git you clean out of
this.’

“ Your bid isn’t high enough, my boy. I
wouldn‘t go just at this minute for five thou-
sand l”

' Beau flun himself 11
fln rs into is matted
sel with anxiety.

But he looked up again in renewed alarm on
hearing a hasty step outside the room. The next
minute the door flew open, and the long-faced
individual who had accosted the boy, stalked
into the room. I

n his chair and du his
iras if half-beside im-

 

14

Bob Rockett’s right for Life.

 

His eyes fell upon the frightened proprietor of
the apartment, who sprung up hastily at this ab-
rupt entrance, and came eagerly forward with
aifected politeness.

“ Good-mornin’, sir; good—mornin’. Want to
see anybody particular? '

“Yes ” answered the man curtly. “I want
to see— ’

“ Me. maybe?”

It was the voice of Bob'Rockett. The in-

truder turned hastily toward the side of the
room. But he started back in alarm as his eyes
fell upon the sturdy figure of Bob, still tilted
back in his chair, and With the pipe between his
li us. But his right hand held a cocked revolver,
whose sights bore with a dead aim on the in—
truder’s head.

“ Glad to see you,” drawled Bob, taking the
pipe from his mouth, and puffing out a volume
of smoke. " Take a seat.

“ But—” stammered the man, still backing
oil’.

“ Take a seat,” there was an alarming signifi-
cance in the click of the pistol lock. r

The intruder hastily seated himself.

“ You are on the police force, I take it. Come,
don’t be handling that ocket. This weapon is
quick on the trigger. ands up!”

The man hesitated and stammered out some
confused words.

“Hands up, I say!”

Up went t e hands of the discomfited officer,
who had fancied that it would be a glorious
thing to take Bob Rockett single-handed. He
hazl hoped to win great repnsation by the exploit.
But the tables seemed to have turned.

“ You want to see Bob Beckett?”

“ Ye—ves." '

“ That’s my name.” Bob replaced the pipe

between his lips. “ Will you be kind enough to
hand over your handle?”
“ My handle?”

“Yes. Your cognomen. Your name, if you
want plain En lish.” '

“ Harry T (1,” re lied the officer, writhing
under the dangerous ook of Bob’s pistol.

“ Very good. Being‘s we’ve exchanged names,
‘suppose we change hats and coats. I feel like
being friendly and sociable.” '

A whiflf of smoke from Bob’s lips went curl-
ing up toward the ceiling. He looked aggravat-
ingly cool as he continued to lean back, with his
feet upon the front round of his chair.

“ You murdering hound, let down that pistol l”
yelled the alarmed officer.

“ Softly, softly; no calling of names. And
you needn’t raise our voice. I can bear with-
out that. Ofl! wit that coat!”

Bob evidently meant it. The officer hesitated
a moment. but that threatening pistol took a
more deadly slant toward his head. There was
nothing for it but to obey. With a curse he flun
his coat and hat to the floor. His hand reache
toward his pistol pocket. '

Bob clicked the pistol-lock again, by way of a
gentle reminder.

“Hands up!” he cried.

The discomflted oflicer obeied with a groan.

Bob’s next orders caused in to reseat him-
self and double his wrists behind the chair-

back.

 

“There’s a. chance for you now, Beau. Tie
this gentleman’s hands.”

Beau hung back doubtingly.

 Ego them, I say, or I’ll treat you to a. leaden
p1 , 00.

At this fierce threat Beau hastily sought the
necessa materials in his closet, and proceeded
to obey ob’s peremptory order.

In five minutes the unhappy oflicer was bound
hand and foot to the chair rounds.

“ I hope you’ll enjoy it here. Mr. Binks and I
have some business out. I’m rather afraid you’ll
find it lonesome. Oh! I forgot that you mi ht
take a fancy to talk to yourself, which woul n’t
be healthy. Beau, my Dad fellow, just put a
bit of something aroun Mr. Todd’s mouth, so
that he can’t catch cold in his teeth.” '

A deep oath came from the prisoner’s lips.
He would have yelled for help, but that danger-
ous weapon was too near his head.

In a minute more a suffocating thickness of
flannel was tied around the lower part of his
face, hardly giving him an opportunity to
breathe.

“Try and enjoy yourself,” said Bob, mock-
ingly. “I’d lend you my pipe but I herd]
think you’re in the humor for smoking. 11%
matter. There’ll be somebod along here in a
day or two to let you out. ust keep cool till
then. Come ahead, Beau, I want your com.

pafiy.”
e had thrown off his own coat and hat, and
assumed those of the prisoner as he spoke.

“ Me?” cried Beau, de iringly.

“Yes, you, you houn 1 Do on fancy I am
going to leave you here to set t 9 dogs loose on
my track? Come on, now; I’m not in the mood
for fooling.”

With a gesture of dismay to the bound oflcer
Beau followed the peremptoryguest from the

room, locking the door behind him at Bob’s stern.

command.

In a few minutes afterward the man in front
of the cigar store saw two persons leave the
suspected house and advance toward him. One
of them he knew as Beau Bink. But who was
this other in semi-ofllcial uniform, who held that
Worthy so firmly by the am? He certainly was
a very different figure from the person who had
so lately entered that mansion.

“ Understand,” growled Bob fiercely in Bean’s
ear; “if you try to make trouble, your house
goes down first. Take that in.”

He walked directly toward the person who
was so intently regarding him, dragging Beau
after him.

'szb turned to this man with a knowing

wm . '
“ e thought it best to nab this one,” he re-
marked, pointing with his thumb to Beau. “ I
left Harry Todd on the watch. The chap’s there
yet, we think, but he must have some rascally
close hiding-place. However, Harry is going to
take this gentleman’s place, and the rat may be
coaxed out of his hole.”

Bob laughed as he turned to go on.

“ I didn’t know there were two of you,” re-
marked the man addressed.

“Yes, I took the back way in. Harry and I

had the trap laid, but, bless you, our rat didn’t . ‘
walk in!" , , - ,

 

  

*‘u...|

 

 

 

 

Bob Rockett’s rightfor Life.

A comical smile marked Bob’s face as he
pinched Bean's arm warning] . There was a.
growing doubt in the man’s loo .

“I don’t know you,” he answered.

“And I don’t know you, so we’re quits on
that.” Bob coolly replied,

.“ Hang me if you don‘t look like Bob Rockett
himself.”

“Yes. That’s what our boys on the force
say,” laughed Bob. “ It’s a blasted uncomfort-
able likeness.”

At this moment there came a tremendous yell
from the up r part of the suspected house. It
was followed’eb a succession of loud cries and
a fall. as if a c air and its occupant had over-

turned.

“11a ’5 got him!" screamed Bob. “There’s
the devi to pay there! Come, there’s help
wanted.”

The man to Whom he was talking followed
Bob in his flight toward the house. He even
distanced him, and entered the house in ad
Vance. Bob, in fact, did not enter the house
at all, but kept on down the street, as if he had
Important business in another direction. He
was by no means anxious to go to the rescue of
Harry Todd, who had in some way got rid of
his gag, and given the alarm.

 

CHAPTER VII.
A'r um GARLAND MANSION.

PAUL Essnx and his young wife were seated
together in the sitting-room of Mr: Garland‘s
city mansion. He was partly reclined in an
easy-chair, she being on a low stool beside him,
holding his hand in hers, and gazing up into his
face with a look of warm trust and aflection.

Yet a look of half-dismay came over her face
as a new thought passed through her brain.
She puckered her pretty mouth, and bit at her

finger in a most distracted fashion.

‘ Why what is the matter, swoet?” asked
Paul, laughingly. “Nothing out of ear With
any of our mutual bows or i'urbelows, hope?”

“Hardly,” she replied. “I am not one to
take that sort of t ing to heart. Why, you
give twice the thought to the set of a necktie
that I do. You know that, on rogue.”

“Ah, mercy! I didn’t n0w that I was
drawing the fire of a masked battery on myself.
Let me off this time and I Won’t refer to furbe-

lows again. But what is it, then, that ails my
* Grace?”

Her laughing eyes grew serious in their ex-

ression.

“ It is that woman. I cannot get her out. of
my thoughts, Paul. To think of my meeting
her in that strange way. after so many years.”

“ She is a cousin of yours, you say? .

“I disown the relationship. To think that
that woman tried to murder me, and that I owe
in life to this can Rockettl How strangely
8 these things ave ome mixed u , Paul,”

“ There is one thing which I can’t elp think-
inR of ” he answered.

“ What is that?”

“ That I would never have known

on only
for that attempted murder, and for s

kett

bringlnk you to my mother’s house to be taken
career.”

 

 

/

15

She pressed his hand and looked up lovingly
into his face.

“ We owe something to both of them,” she
said. “ It is strange how often the worst in-
tentions work out good. I should prefer to pay
no need to that miserable woman, but my father
is not troubled with any such feelings of senti-
ment. He seems determined to proceed against
her. I wish he Would not.”

“ But he has another reason for it, Grace.
She undoubtedly knows who were engaged in
that bank-robbing enterprise, and ma
frightened into revealing their names. have
my own ideas about that. Ideas, of course, are
not evidence, but I could swear that it is to Bob
Rockett that I owe my eyesi ht.”

“And yet you cherish il will against him.
That is not generous.”

“ N o. It is the others I wish to bring to jus-
tice. Their cold-blooded leader, about whom
also I have my suspicions. As for Rockett I
fear that he is in far more serious danger."

“ You don’t believe that he was connected
with that horrible murder, Paul?”

“ I would like to not believe it. But it looks
black for him, Grace. Very black.”

“ I don’t believe it, at any rate 1” she energetic-
ally re ilicd, springing u and walking the floor
excite 1y. “ And l’m as amed of you for doing
so. After all he has done for us—for both of us ,
—I wish you would not talk so, Paul. To think
of what we owe to him, and then of your repay-
ing him with such suspicion.”

“ Well, well, he has one earnest advocate, at
all events,” laughed Paul, a he seized his wife’s
hands and a sin drew her down on the stool be-
side him. ‘ I hardly think he is capable of it,
love. I think there must be some horrible mis-
take. If he be put on trial for this murder I
certainly shall give my evidence in his favor.”

“ Oh, thank you! thank on!” she excitedly
cried, springing ii and kissing him. “You
don’t know how eeply I feel for him. But
when I think that I owe him a life—” .

“ And I that I owe him a wife,” broke in -
Paul, returning her kiss with warm interest.
“ My debt is the deepest, for on are more than
life to me. You are ri ht. e are doe ly in

debt to Bob Rockett. e must defend to
our utmost.”

Their Conversation was at this int inter-
rupted by the hasty entrance of . Garland.

He was flushed and excited. He waved a news-
paper in his hand with a strange gesture.

Well, this beats all 1” he exclaimed, with
such emphasis that his two auditors sprung up
in earnest attention.

“ Why, what has happened i” cried Paul. '

“The most daring an bare-faced thing! Two
of the most daring things, in fact. I do not see
what our police service is coming to. To let
themselves be hoodwinked in this ridiculous
manner! Out on such a city government 1” '

“ Why, my dear father,” exclaimed Grace.
“I never saw you in such a way. What is it
that has happened i"

“ To think of a murderer attendin the fun-
oral of his murdered wife, and then wglkin of! 7
freely in the face of a hundred persons! I dfiubt
if such a iece of bare-faced daring was ever
perpetrate before i” ’

 

 

 

 

‘ Na}

16

“ Who'd” asked Paul, hastily. “ Not this Mike
Cra r?"

“ es. He walked up boldly among the

mourners and looked into the grave, just as any
grieving husband might have done. Nobody
knew him, it seems, except the grave-diggers,
and they had promised to let him get out of the
graveyard a sin before they gave the alarm.
A piece of ri iculous sentiment.”

“ I don’t think so,” replied Grace, to whom
there seemed something touching in the circum-
stance. “ Aflection and remorse must have
drawn the murderer there.”

“Did he escape?’ asked Paul.

“Yes. There was a piece of woodland not
far from the cemetery. Into this he plunged.
He was pursued by i‘lftf7 men, but managed to
give them all the slip. t was a rough, rugged
piece of woods, and very extensive. No doubt
was full of hiding-places which the villain knew.
At any rate they searched for him until dark,
and set up a strict watch on the woods after
night. But he has somehow given them the

7
‘1‘) Well, he certainly is a bold one,” exclaimed
Paul, with deep interest. “But he certainly
cannot escape. y, every avenue will be
gded. There will be thousands on the look-
out.

Grace looked as if she hoped that he would
escape. There was a touch of human feeling in
his action which had roused a sympathetic chord
in her warm heart. .

1- “But the other?” she suddenly cried. “You
said there were two of these bold escapes."

“The other was that of Robert Rockett.
That was still more daring and impudent. Why,
he has played with the police to their very
noses.”

“ Oh, do tell us about that," exclaimed Grace.

Bob/Beckett had certainly a strong partisan
in her.

- “You remember about the police searching a
house for him a day or two ago? Well, it ap-
rs that he was there all the time, concealed
in some unknown hiding-place. And he con-
tinued to stay there after the police left. One
of these worthies suspected that there might be
somethin'r wrong. and returned to that house to
look for im. What should he find but our
Master Beckett, as large as life, perched against
the wall, and smoking away for dear life, as
though he had not a care in the world 1”
, “I declare!” cried Paul and Grace in con—
cert. “It was bold. Did the policeman take
him?”

“ No; but he took the policeman. which may
answer the same purpose. Wh , he forced that
worthy, at istol‘s point, to c ange hats and
coats with im. Then he left him, tied and
gafified, and-locked up in a room. While be
we ed out himself as boldly as though the city
of New York belonged to him .in fee simple.
There was another of our city guardians on the
watch outside, but friend Beckett hoodwinked
him as easily as he had done his companion."

“But how was that? You would imagine he
would have known him.” ,

“It seems that the man inside got his month
free, and gave the alarm. They ran towether
to the house, and the police agent ran in. Rod;-

'1
\

 

Bob Beckett‘s Fight for Life.

 

ett, however, concluded that he had business
further on; so he slipped quietly away, and left
the bafl‘led officers to console themselves as best
they might.”

“ Good! good !” cried Grace, clapping her
hands. “ I only hope he will continue to escape
them.”

“ But you are not in sympath
murderer?” asked her father, wit
rious face.

“ He is not a murderer,” she exclaimed, indig-
nantly. “He is incapable of such a crime. If
it is in my power to protect him in any way I
shall certainly do so.”

“ Come, come, Grace,” answered her father,
with earnest disapproval. “I am very sorry to
hear you talk so.’

“ I can’t help it, father. He saved my life. I
shall save histif the opportunity ofl'ers."

“ Have you taken an action in that matter of
Mary Ormiston?” aske Paul, by way of chang
ing the subject.

“ I have brought a char e against her before
the authorities. She wi be arrested before
ni ht, unless she has decamped."

‘Oh, have you, father?”

“Yes. Not that I care so particularly to
punish her. But she may reveal the names of
those bur lars. If Roger Glindon could only be
unmaske .” .

“I hope he may,” answered Paul, earnestly.
“I am sure he was the leader of the gang.”

But we will not listen further to this conver-
sation, as the remainder of it might be of no in-
terest to the reader. ‘ ‘

CHAPTER VIII.
RUSTY MIKE Tans HISEAND.

SEVERAL days have since the date of
our last chapter. Yett two fugitives from
justice are still at large, and the police are al-
most at their wits’ end how to capture them.
Since the moment of Bob Beckett’s escape from
the Blair street house he has completely vanished .
from sight. His companion, Beau Bink, has
managed to clear himself in the eyes of the
authorities by showing that he was forced to aid
the fugitive in his escape. But he is utterly ig-
norant of Bob’s present hiding-place. ,

The same uncertainty prevails in regard to
Rusty Mike. The wood in which he secreted
himself has been searched through and through.
and the whole surrounding country thoroughly
examined, without effect. ;

The baffled officers say to themselves that they
cannot imagine how the villain esca . But
that does not help the matter in the \ east. He
has escaped; that is the one undoubted fact, al-
though the whole country around has been on
the losk-out for him.

It is now getting late in the sprin , and there
have been some of the usual revolu ions in the
weather. Aweek ago there was'a shivering
breath in the air, and all the world had donned
its overcoats. But now, in these latter days of
April, the sweet southwest Wind, is upon the
land, there is a summ°ry softness in the atmos-
phere, and folks are ready to forget that it ever
was winter. _

The Garlands have left their stylish town
house to the care of a servant, and moved, bag

with this
a very se-

 

 

‘ 

I upon the pebbly

 

 

Bob Rocket?-

and baggage, to their country seat. a beautiful-
1 situated summer residence, on the Hudson, 3
6W miles above the city.

Grace always desires to get here early, for she
dearly loves her flowers, and from the time the
first buds blow until the last leaves have fallen,
there is no keeping her amid the stately cold-
ness of city life.

' be grounds of this charming riverside man—
sion were terraced down to the water's edge,
each terrace being laid out in a beautiful gar-
den, so arranged as to bring flowers successively
into bloom during the whole season. On the
lower terrace, at a point near where the river
ran liquidl past, was an ornamental arbor,
with its on 00 upon the stream.

Here Grace loved to sit during the long sum-
mer hours with her book and her work, and
with the whole panorama of the busy river out-
spread before her eyes.

On the first day of their coming to this man-
sion she had eagerly sought her favorite seat,
and long remained here in the balmy weather,
her vision fixed dreamily upon the ever-shifting
scene. Her father and husband were in the
city. Only a single servant was in the house,
the others having not yet come from the cit ;
afind she was almost alone in that solitary i-

ce

But she felt no sense of loneliness. Every-
thing about her was so familiar, every tree,

. every bush seemed a personal friend.

Out upon the stream vessel after vessel passed,
some bound upward, some down toward the

eat city. Steamboats shot rapidly by, their
Eng lines of smoke hovering in the quiet air
after they had disappeared from View. Nearer
the shore an occasional small boat passed, some
being pleasure yachts some the sturdy craft of
fishermen, some row-boats, in which the lovers
of the our were enjoying this pleasant exercise.
There was a sense of companionship to their soli-
tary watcher even in this distant movement. _

As she sat thus, with her eyes fixed dreamin

- upon the distant craft, she failed to notice that

a small boat had crept in close along the shore,
its single occupant guiding its course with an
ear, as it floated down the stream, while hisey as
were fixed with a keen glance upon the uncou-
scious woman. .

N ’5 row ated with a slight noise
ow the boat achgiid  talllform orbits
.occu ant rose and ste ig v as ore, one or-
ing the craft with 9. SIZE: attached to the end of
a short rope.

He was yet unobserved by Grace, who sat
wrapped in a sort of day-dream, her eyes bent
outward. Slowly the stranger drew himself up
to the level of the terrace, and wound With a
cat-like tread through the bushes toward her.

hoarse “ Hem!’ called her attention to her
more immediate surroundings. What was her
stir rise and alarm to perceive, in the entrance
t0 t .e arbor. the form of a most unprepoaessing
“amp. as his dress seemed to indicate. .

He was‘tall, raw-boned, and‘cadaverous, his
pallid face fallen away until the bones seemed

‘ ready topmtrud‘e through the skin, while a dark

$115 sugrounded that??? and thf lipghwere set
a ange. no a e was on e aspec
of the whole. fires being that of oiie in Whom

right for Life. 17

starvation has been aided in its efl'ects by some
doe emotion of the mind.

race started to her feet with a cry of alarm
as this/threatening form fixed its hollow eyes
upon her.

*‘ Don’t get skeered, miss,"hesaidinahoarse
hollow voice, which he tried to make soft and
appealing. “ I’d be the last in the world to
mean you harm. But, when a poor soul ain't had
a bite o’ vittals for two days, it kinder makes
him bold, miss. If you could ive the poor fel-
low a bite now. Jist a mouth , say.” \

Grace looked into the pinched lace, and her
tender heart grew soft with ity. He certainly
did seem to be on the verge of starvation

“Wait a few minutes my poor man," she
kindly said, all her fear of him vanishing at the
sight of his need, “ I will bring you some food.”

It never struck Grace, in her pitying speed,
that it was something out of the usual course
for men to come begging in a row-boat. She
hurried to the house, and, without disturbing
the servant, collected the materials for a oodly
meal, with which she hastened back to t e ar—
bor.

“Here is food for you,” she exclaimed, plac-
ing it before him, where he had thrown himself
down on the grass. “Do not eat too much
now. It might hurt you. Just eat a little, and
take the rest with you."

“ Ah, but you’re the deer, good leddy!” he
cried, looking with a show of gratitude into her
face. “ May the blessings of the starving ewr
be yours i”

It struck her that there was alittle of the cent
of the professional beggar in his tone, but she
continued to watch him with pitying eyes, as he
devoured the food with the rapocity of a wild
beast rather than the hunger of a man.

“T ere, now. Take the remainder with you.
It is not safe to eat too much when you are so
hungry.” -

He looked up at her with the ex ression of a ,
wolf which has been robbed of of its food.
But this look was followed by a grim smile, as
he be an to thrust the remaining food into his
pocke , saying, in a tone that was half growl:

“Bless yer purty eyes ye’r’ the kind and the
sensible leddy, if ever there were one. I hope
you'll ’scuse me,"—he had risen to his feet and
stood upright before her—“but, I’m des'p’ret
poor, as well. as hungry. It the kind leddy
would only we the poor fellow some‘at to ran
member her y. A little trifle of cash, now.”

She retreated a step in renewed alarm. There
was a new look in the eyes of the man before
her. She began to fear that her pity had caused
her to lay aside her prudence.

“ I have no mane with me "she faltered.

“Now that’s too reflul bad: But here‘s that
pnrty chain round yer neck; and that vally’ble
ring ye’r’ a-wearin’. Mebbe poor old Tom mought
turn ’em into somethin’ nice, and it’d be a bless-
ing to you to know that ye’r’ savin’ the poor from

trouble.” ‘

“Now go, or I shall call for help i” she cried,
in alarm. “ I have given you food and you wish
to rob me.”

, “I wouldn’t rob you for all the world,” he

 

answered, with a frightful grin. “ Only I
lmows as how them things ain’t o" no vally‘ to

  

28

Bob Rockett‘s.Pight for Life.

    

 

you. So I guess as how ye’d like to hand them
over.”

He took a quick step forward and grasped her
by the wrist, While his sunken eyes glared into
her face with a tigerish ferocity.

A scream of alfri ht broke from her lips.

“Stop that, or H throttle ye!” he ferociously
cried, as he tried to rend the gold chain from
her neck.

But there was a sudden change in the state
of affairs. Her scream had not been unheard.
There came a crushing sound in the bushes, and
the leap of a new figure on the scene.

The footpad foun himself seized by the shoul-
ders in an iron clasp, and hurled aside with a
force like that of a giant. There stood the
short, stout figure of the new-comer, his eyes
blazing with indignation, his fists clinched as
if he expected an attack from the tramp.

A strange cry broke from Grace’s lips as she
beheld him, a cry that seemed the outburst of
surprise.

A like astonishment seemed to overcome the
tramp.

" ob Rockettl" came in faltering accents
from his lips.

“Yes, Rusty Mike; and just in time, too, it
. seems.”

A new cryr came from Grace on hearing that
terrible name. She fell back upon the arbor
seat almost in a swoon.

“I’d like ter know what brin s you yore,
interferin’ with a gen’leman in is bizness!’
growled Mike, his face furious with rage.

“Now, see here, Mike!” cried Bob, walkin
fe irlessly up to him and laying a heavy han
upon his shoulder. “ I know this lady, and I’d
kill you on hound, if you had done her any
harm. on know me, Mike Crapper l”

“ Like you killed in wife ” muttered Mike.

h 83b shook him asi he held but a leaf in his
an .

“You lying villain! So that is your game.
then, to try and lay your bloodinwork on me?
I have you now, and you shall ac owledge the
truth in the presence of this lady, or you shall
never escape my hands until I give you over to
the authorities.” I , _

He grasped at Mike’s wrist with his free
hand, but the cunning villain made a nick
stoop, tearing his shoulder loose from ob’s
clutchi An eagle backward leap, and he had
broken throng a clump of bushes beside which
he stood.

Bob made no effort to pursue him. But he
had no idea of letting him escape so easily. In
a moment the barrel of a pistol glittered in the

sun.
“ Stop l” he cried, in a commanding voice.
Mike, who had leaped from the edge of the
terrace to the narrow beach of the stream,
turned on hearing this peremptory command.
But a hoarse laug of defiance came from his
lips as he took another step toward the boat.
There was a sharp report. A bullet whistled
past his ear. . ,
“Stop, I say!" cried Bob, with still more
energy of tone.
At this juncture, Grace ran hastil for-
ward and caught Bob’s arm with a trig tened

gesture. .

.51.‘

  

 

.W ‘

“ Oh, don‘t shoot him!” she cried. “ Oh, for
mercy’s sake, don’t shoot him!" V

Bob looked at her appealing face/and lowered
his pistol. ,

“ You will not acknowledge?” he cried to
Mike.

“Never!”
“Ver well. I know what remains to do,
then. he next time I find you—and it will

not be long—you shall not escape me so easily.
You ma go now.”

Mike eaped into his boat, lifted the rude
anchor and hastily pushed the small craft from
the shore.

Grace had loosed her hold of Bob‘s arm. She
retreated a step or two, looking upon him with
mingled emotions.

He turned toward her.

“ Do you, too, believe me a murderer?” h
asked.

“ No, no!

I never did! I never could i".

“I am bad enough,” he said, somewhat sadl . f

“ I did take Part in that attempt at bank ro
bery. But
your father’s coldness toward me. But to com-
mit murder! 1 hope I am incapable of that.”

“I am sure on are,” she fervently re lied.

“Thanks! 1: nks!” he re'oined. “ t me ,
clear myself in our eyes, an
others may thin .”

“Will on not do more?” she exclaimed, ex- I
tending or arms appealineg toward him. «
“Will you not avoid all crime? Will you not
seek to live an honest life?
ful to think of a man like you enterin into such
fatal courses! Promise me! I will he p you! I '
will aid 1you to the extent of my powers! ’ '

He loo ed at her with moistened eyes. There A
was a quiver in hisgggs as he spoke.

“I will! With ’5 help I will be an honest
man! I have committed in last crime!” 7
“ Oh thanks, thanks! I now you will, and
that I can help you. But this murder—this

dreadful charge?”

Her voice failed her.

“I am innocent of it, before Heaven! But I r
cannot prove my innocence now! If I have
time I may do so. . But if I am captured now I
will besurely condemned. And the bloodhounds
of the law are after me.”

He looked around with the glance of one who
dreads pursuit. '

“If I can help you! If I can secrete you! 2
Anything to save on from that l” . ‘

As she spoke t ere was an uproar of loud
voices from the direction of the house. which
made Bob give a nervous start. Were the pur— \
suers than so closely on his track?

CHAE'EE IX.

/

(

. I

was driven to it by need and by C

I care not what '

Oh! it is too dread— ,

Inna—M‘H

 

‘ hum».

non wms UP THE WRONG custom.
WE must go back a few hours in our story in "
order to explain this sudden ap rance oi! Bob;
Rockett at the country seat of t e Garlands. v
He had good reason fora hast movement out
of town, as we will ex lain. b might have
remained in safety in t e hiding- lace which he ,
had sought after leaving Beau Bi ’3 a tment, 
but there were two reasons acting to ring him i
again into a situation of danger. one of these,
was a feeling of contempt for the police, arising“

   
  
  
  

ES. 3 E39 SQ-Zin: humane

1'1"!)

0
..

seas

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bob Beckett'-

    

right for Life. 19

 

from his many escapes; and a sense of belief in
his star which made him bold and Vl‘lltUl'eHOlIIE.
The other was a cause which rendered it neces-
sary for him to expose himself to danger. This
we will explain.

The questionable circumstances which had
produced the sus iciou against him, as an ac—
complice of Bus y Mike in the murder of his
Wife, could be explained away by a certain
Witness whose services Bob was very anxious to
secure.

In fact, he had just read a full account of the
inquest over the murdered woman, and of the
evidence give by the inmates of the house.
Some of this 'tgstimony seemed to strike him as
very favorable to himself. .

“By Jove!” he cried, suddenly flin ing down
the pa r. “the sky is beginning to c ear. If I
can on y find Roger Gliiidon now, and get him
to come up like a. man, the whole thing is set-
tled."

Fortunately for his plans, Bob had a very good
idea of where to look for his accomplice in the
bank robbery. He knew Roger’s usual places
of resort perfectly well, but he had a shrewd
idea just now that he would be most likely to
find him in another locality.

In fact, he was well aware of the impression
which the beautiful face and engaging manners
of Marie Ormiston had made upon his quondam
friend, and of the devoted attention which Roger

was ying to this attractive young lady.
“ ve a notion that he goes there ever day
about this hour,” said Bob to himself. “ here’s

the t to catch my hearty young blood.” .
Bo was'not long in putting his idea into
practice. It was hardly safe, hOWever, to ven-

ture into the street without some effort at dis-

guise. but he contented himself by putting a

eavy false board on his usually smooth chin,
and by wearing a cap which concealed the up-
per portion of his face. .

These additions to his wstunie made a marked
change in his appearance, so that no one would
be likely to recognize him. ‘ .

But he had no idea pf trusting himself to the
chances of the street. He hailed a passing cab,
gave the driver the street and number which he
sought, and lay back securely on the cushions,
metaphoricallyl snapping his fingers at the
guardians of t e law. _ _

The locality in (gmstlonlwns Situated some
distance up—town. ob en30yed a look at'the
Streets from which he had been for some time
debarred, while the horses rapidly made their
Way toward their destination.

“Here on are,” cried the coachman, as he
drew his orses up and sprung to the ground,
throwing open the cab door. “

“ Wait for me, " said Bob, as he got out. I
will not be long:

Stridingu t e steps of the house he gave a
vigorous p at the bell. He Walted for a min-
ute or two, but there was no _response.

“Are they all asleep inSide?” he muttered.

"‘Or has Roger grown so sweet on the fair

Marie that they have no ears for such matters

I as balls? All right, then, I’ll make myself at

heme.”
The door opened readily to his hand and he
stepped within. The passage was empty. Bob

pushed open the door of the parlor which lay to
his ri ht and looked in.

“ eyl all the nod people of the housel” he
cried. “Is nobo y at home, that visitors must
be left to cool their heels on your (loci-steps?”

“Did you ring?” came a strange voice from
within. '

“ I fancy so. Hello! you’re a stranger here.
What became of the folks?”

It was a somewhat stout individual who stood
before him, dressed in a half-uniform. which
Bob at once recognized as that of the police.

“ Are you a friend of the family?” asked this
person, looking kecnl at Bob.

“Yes, a most deci edly gullible friend. He’s
your best friend I suppose who feeds you for
nothing. Well, that‘s me. I’ve given them
groceries out of my store on tick till they’ve
run up a scorching bill. But when I come for
my money they’re not at home.”

Bob shrugged his shoulders and made a
comical grimace, that set the officer OR in an
anmSed laugh. _

“ You’re thoroughly dished then, my trusting
friend. They’re gone, bag and baggage.”

“Bless us! you don’t tell me that? Where
have they struck out to?"

“I Wish you‘d tell me that. There are other
folks want to see them besides yourself. Well,
not to mince matters, there’s a warrant of
arrest out for them. But somehow they’ve
smelt the rat, and vamosed. There’s nothing
here but the heavy furniture.”

“ And that belongs to the landlord,” said Bob,
turnin , with a heavy heart, for this unlocked-
for flig t might possibly prove very disastrous
for him.

Without the aid of Roger Glindon he might
be convicted of a murder of which he was as
innocent as a child.

He turned too uickly in fact. He had been
standing close besi e the door, and, in his hasty
movement. his face brushed against the side of
the half-open tportal, loosening and sweeping
the false beard rom his face. i

He stomped hastily to pick it up. But the
officer had observed the incident, and aquick
suspmion flashed into his eyes as he sprung for-
ward and caught Bob by the shoulder.

“that is this?” he cried quickly. “Let me
see your face again, my friend."

Bob rose, with the recovered beard in his
hand. His profile was turned toward the oflicer.

“ Ha! by all that’s good, it‘s Bob Rockett!
By Jupiter, I’m in luck l”

“ Don’t swear to that,” growled Bob.

He was still rising as he spoke. His right
side was _ turned toward the officer, whose hand
lay heavfly on the shoulder. But in the ver
act of risin Bob swung round sharply on his
rigit heel. his movement added force to the
weight of his left hand which struck the oflflcer
a stunning blow on the temple.

That dignitary dropped to the floor like an
ox when struck by the ax of the butcher.

The whole affair had been so quick and suc-
cessful that Bob himself viewed the fallen officer
with some surprise. A grim lau hof amuse-
ment broke from his lips as he das ed through
the assage to the front door, hastily clapping
the card to his face as he did so.

 

  

  

20 I / Bob Rockett'a

 

Fight for Life.

 

_He leaped into the cab which stood awaiting

im.

“ To the Hudson River Railroad Depot! Like
li htningl” he cried. “ A dollar extra for your—
se f if you let no one overtake you. Drive on i”

“Ayl ay!” returned the driver, giving the
reins to his horses and touching them sharply
with the whip.

At this moment the front door of the house
burst open, and the officer appeared. He had
not been stunned, as Bob had fancied.

“ Stop thief l Stop murderer!” he yelled, on
perceivinithe flying cab.
But cab y paid no attention to this cry, which,

indeed, was so inarticulate that he did not un-
derstand it. He only stirred up his horses to
greater 8 .
The officer started in full chase down the streut
after him, giving the alarm as he ran. Others
oined in the pursuit. The alarm rattle sounded
in all directions. But the fugitives kept a good
distance in advance, and rapidly gained ground
over their running pursuers.
Not many minutes were occupied in reaching
the railroad station. Bob sprun out, hastily
paid’ the cabman the fare, wit the offered
gratuity, and ran into the depot building.
He was just in time. A passenger-train was
on the point of starting. Hastin procuring a
ticket he sprung on board the last car of the
train, whic was already in motion.
Breathlessly he stood on the rear platform,
looking back as the train gathered Speed. Soon
they had drawn out of the station and were rap—
idl gathering speed in their onward course.
wo minutes afterward the officer dashed
headlogig into the wide doorway of the station,
follow b a throng of excused followers. He
had succ ed in gaining a cab and following the
fugitives at a distance. -
“ What is wrong?” yelled the crowd.
“Murder! Bib Beckett! An escaping mur-
derer! He is here! I saw him leave the cab!
Shut the doors! Don’t let him escape!”
The excitement spread rapidly. Everybody
looked suspiciously at his nei hbor.
“A short, stout man, was 9 not?" asked the
ticket seller, as he came hastily from his office.
“Yes, with a heavy black heard I”
“ You are too late then. He boughta ticket,
and is oi! in the train that started three minutes
ago. It is more than a mile out by this time. "
/ A look of dismay came upon the officer’s face.
He removedhis hat and wiped the sweat from
his face. .

’ “ But you can telegraph on and have the train
. searched," suggested the ticket afignt.

“ A thought! We Will te graph to the
author ties at ever station where the train
stops. Thanks for t a idea. We Will have him
yet, unless he chooses to break his heck lg
springing from the train between stations. ”

In a few minutes more lightning messengers
were darting through those long hnes_of wire
that bordered the track, leaving the train quick-
ly behind in their marvelous speed, and carry-
ing torward. the story of Bob Rookett’s daring
coca a.

All) along the road the authorities were put
on the alert. . .

’But, as may well be imagined, Bob Rockett

 

was fully aware of this danger. and on the alert
to escape it. With its loud whistle of warning
the train slowed up toward its first stoppinw
place. Yet twenty minutes before its arrival
the news of the escape had reached this point,
and a dozen men were gathered upon the plat-
form commissioned to search the train.

Slowly the wheels ceased to turn.
train came to a dead halt.

“ Hold!” cried an authoritative voice to the
conductor. “ Don’t let a person leave the train.
There is an escaping criminal on board. A
murderer. The cars must be searched."

The men appointed for that purpose had al-
ready sprung to the platforms of the cars, and
guarded the doors at each end, while the person
who had spoken went cautiously through the
cars, ex1mining the face of every male passen-
gcr with a keen scrutiny. Yet he reached the rear
car without seeing a person resembling the de
scription of Bob Beckett.

He passed through this still more carefully.
Near the end was a cross-looking old fellow,
who was growling fiercely at the outrage of
making the passengers prisoners in the cars.

“ Ain‘t found your man, I guess?" he growled,
as if led at them failure.

“ 0. Do you know anything about him?”

“ Well, there was a chap jumped off the tail
end of the train a distance back, 'ust When it
begun to slow up. Shouldn’t won er if he was
your ame.”

“ hy didn’t you tell us that five minutes ago,
you old donkey?”

“ Old donkeys, when they’re shut up this way
in a stable, take their own time to kick, you
know’.’ I guess you felt the donkey’s heels that
time.

The searcher rushed from the train.

“ He has escaped!” he shouted. “ After him,
lads! He must have made his way toward the
river. We will have him yet.”

In a minute more tln special police guard
were on their way toward the stream, which

The long

ran here at nearly half a mile distance from the

railroad. .

The fugitive had about ten minutes the start,
and had made such good use of his time that
they failed to see him, though much of the
country lay open to the view.

On reaching the neighborhood of theriver they
spread out, extenrlin their line along the row of
elegant private resi ences which there bordered
the flowing stream.

Two or three of them were in the nei hhor-
hood of Mr. Garland’s residence, which ormed
one of these mansions, when the clear sound of
a pistol—shot broke out upon the air, coming from
that direction.

A or of alarm burst from their lips as they. _

star toward the mansion from which the
sound seemed to proceed. ,

CHAPTER X.
SEEKING BUT NOT FINDING.

WE must return to Bob Rockett and Grace
Essex, whom we left in the arden of Mr. Gar-
land’s riverside mansion. e had arrived as
we know, just in time to protect her from the
hands of her infamous assailant, Rusty Mike.

But he was himself a fugitive; the pursuers

 

l

1L4! in

. .u. may - 

 

 

 

 

'1. £3241 'Szm '

 

 

 

\

Bob Rockett’s

Fight for Life. 21

 

were close upon his footsteps, his istol—shot had
guided them; their voices were eard in loud
outcries from the neighboring road; whither
should he flee for safety?

He looked to right and left like a wild animal
at bay. Yonder was the river, but it held no
boat by which to esca e. The country was
alarmed, it Would soon 6 bristling with pur-
suers, there was no safety by land. His per-

lexed eyes turned u on the face of his warm-
. earted companion. er eyes were fixed mean-
inglv upon him?

“ on are in dan er? You are pursued?
These are the voices 0 your enemies?” she hur—

ried] asked. I

“ es, yes. And—” his voice sunk into si-
lence, as he again looked in deep disquiet
around.

“ And you see no way to escape .1"

“None.”

“Then I will conceal you. I believe you in-
nocent; and I owe you that, and far more than
that. Follow me, quickly. There is not ii mo-
ment to lose."

She led the way with a light and rapid step

' toward the house.

7 They could hear the tones of the pursuers call—
ing throu h the still air. They seemed all around
them. A ready some of them appeared to have
Invaded the garden. Only the thick, clustering
shrubbery of the winding alleys hid the fugitives
from sight.

“ Come, come!" rung the low, clear tones of
the beautiful guide. “ Quickly! They are at a
distance yet. We can gain the house unseen.”

Bob darted forward with redoubled speed,
He grasped her arm and almost carried, her ‘on-
ward in his strong gripe. It was indeed no time
to stand on ceremony. In a minute more they
had gained the house and )assed out of Sight
through its rear door. antmg, breathless,
overcome with exertion, Grace hastily closed the
door and turned the key in the lock_. » She then
fall back with a reeling motion against the_51de
wall of the passage, her brain swunming With a
momentary faintness.

Almost at the same instant two of the pur—
suers broke through the shrubbery and came
into full view of the house on this Side. “

“ There is nobody here,” cried one; yet I
figuld swear that I heard a. movement through

6 bushe ”

“ Try ti: door,” suggested the other.

Hastenin forward he turned the handle of
the  t to _0 en.

e 531 . - I

“ Vi’SSIiioifft hiive been mistaken,” declared his

00m nion. “Or erhaps the noise we heard
waspgome one g'uigg‘ the other way. Let us
search the arden.”

The ha hardl vanished Within the bushy
closengm of the ga’i‘den walks before other ur-
Buers came upon the scene. The pistol-shot ad
caused a. general alarm. _ .

“It came from this direction. There is no
doubt of that,” cried one of these “ Where are
the men who came thisway?" ,

“Yonder they go, through the'garden. Ill
Wagerathousand the murderer is somewhere
about this establishment. Ten to one but we
have him caged here. Some of you run to the

 

right and left, and rouse the people in the next
houses. Given general alarm. If he has €313
away from these grounds he cannot go far
fore we have him.”

Quick movements followed in response to
these orders. The clustered group dispersed
again, some to establish themselves as sentinels
around the Garland roperty, others to carry
on the news, and set t e whole neighborhood in
alarm. _ '

Meanwhile the two fugitives had heard with
suppressed excitement the voices without, and
the effort upon the door. They looked at each
other with startled eyes. ,

“ That was a. narrow chance for safety,”
ejaculated Bob, with a breath of relief as the
recedin footsteps of his )ursuers were heard.

“ Fol ow me,” she brie y answered. \

She led quickly to the foot of the stairs and
hastened up them to the second floor of the
house, Bob following. Despite his usual energy
and coolness, his heart was beating like a trip-
hammer.

Outside the leader of the part of search was
left alone. He had sent off all is force in dif-
ferent directions, and stood leaning against the
trunk of a tree that rose beside him waiting
the result of the search of the garden. his haste
had been such that he needed a. short rest to re—
cover his brcath. v

Five minutes elapsed, during which, at inter-
vals, could be seen the forms of the men who
were thoroughly investigating the bush~grown
gardens. At the end of that time they ap-
proached him with disappointment written upon
their faces.

“No returns,” cried out the nearest. “The
place is empty. Our man is not here.”

An expressmn of doubt came upon the leader’s
countenance.

“I believe he is in that house,” remarked the
other. “We heard a rustling noise in the
bushes. When we came up there was uoone
there, but the back door was locked. He must
have entered.“

This idea suddenly aroused the leader.

“Ibelieve you are right!” he cried. “We
will search it,a.t any rate. Here. Phil, on
kee an eye upon this side of the house. im
an I will go in from the front. If our man is
there he has got to come out.”

In a moment more he had leaped the garden
wall into the road, and was approaching the
front door of the mansion.

A loud, sharp pea] at the bell brought to the
door the only servant present in the mansion, a.
woman who had been employed in the kitchen,
and had failed to perceive any of these events.

“ Whose house is this?” asked the officer.

“ Misther Garland’s, sure.”

It was evident from what part of the world
this good lady had come.

“Is any of the family at home?”

“Nobody at all, sur. ’Cept Miss Grace and
meself, which is two of us.”

“ Call Miss Grace 1”

“ Sbure, an‘ maybe she might a: who wants
to see her,” answered the woman, growing sus-
picious of this sharp-voiced visitor.

“ You may tell her that it is an officer. who
has come to search the house for an escaped

 

22

  

.

Bob Rockett’s Fight for Life.

 

murderer,” said the speaker, showing his shield
$511118 pushed rudely past the woman into the
a .

“ Och! fur the good Lord’s blessing! A mur-
derer!” she screamed. ‘But, save you, honey,
there’s not the ’scription of a soul in the house
but meself and Miss Grace. And that’s the
Heaven’s own truth.” ’

“ We will see that,” exclaimed the officer, curt-
lV. puahing on toward the stairs. “ Stand here,
Tim, and guard the stairs. I will search the
lower rooms.”

The woman stood for a moment aghast at this
summary proceeding. She then attem ted to
run up the stairs, but Vvas prevented by t e man
on guard.

“ You omadhounl To have the imperdence to
stop me in me own house!” she cried, struggling
to pass him. “Oh, Miss Grace! Miss Grace!
Shure, an’ you’d best come down here. There‘s
a pair 0’ burglars, and I’m a-wearin’ me soul
out a-tr in’ to stop them from robbin’ all the
vally’be 3.”

After several minutes of this loud calling,
Grace appeared at the head of the stairs, and
looked down with an expression of surprise. At
7 the same instant the leader of the searching
party reappeared from an unsuccessful investi-
gation of the lowar rooms.

“ What is the matter? \Vhat means all this
outcry?" asked Grace, with dignity.

“ Excuse me, miss ” replied the officer, polite-
ly. “ I am sorry to nd only women in the house
for it is necessary that we should search it. We
are in pursuit of a fugitive, a murderer, whom
we have reason to believe has concealed himself
here. We will €212 you to no inconvenience, but
the house must searched.”

“There is no fugitive murderer here,” she
coldly answered.

“ That you cannot be sure of. He was traced
to the grounds of this mansion. He was heard
to enter the house. He may have concealed
himself here without {our knowledge.

“And why should believe such a story?” she
replied suspiciously. “Where is your authority
for such a search?”

“ It is here,” he answered, as he threw 0 on
his coat, and displayed the policeman’s shiel .

“That may be counterfelted.” she coldly re-
joined. “Come, Bridget._ I do not feel like
trusting this person alone in our house. He may
search for his mystical murderer, but we must
look out that nothing else disappears.”

With a grimace at the shar suspicion in the
tone of the young lady the o cer ascended the
stairs, and proceeded to look through room
after room, closely followed in his eve step
by the two women, and encouraged In his
search by certain very uncomplimentary re-
marks from Bridget. Grace kept silent, how-
ever. There was an. anxiety upon her face
which she sought to hide from the vigilant eyes
of the officer.”

f‘ This room?” said the searcher,asone door
failed to yield to his hand. '

“You cannot enter there.”

“ Why not?”

“ Because that is my own chamber. And he-
nause I came from it just now, on hearing

Bridget’s call. I do not choose to lay open my

 

 

private apartment at your demand. You may
take my word that it conceals no murderer.”

“ 0h!" he shrug ed his shoulders meaningly.
“ Very well. I wi 1 go to the upper floor, then."
He walked to the head of the stairs. “ Tim I”

“ Well, sir?”

“ Come 11 here and keep an eye upon this
floor, while look into the upper rooms. ’ .

The third story was quickly searched. It
contained but a few rooms, and these—like the
whole house, in fart—held no hidiniplaces.
The officer reluctantly concluded that 8 must
have been mistaken. ,

“I hope you will excuse me,” he said to
Grace, on regaining the second floor. “Of
course I consider your word as sufficient, but I
have to answer to others who may be less con-
siderate. It is necessary that I should satisfy
myself by a look into that locked room. '

“I have already told you that it holds no
murderer,” replied Grace coldly. “I decline
to o n it."

“ hen we shall have to break it open,” was the
curt reply. “ We do not wish to proceedtoex-
tremities,”ho added. “Yet I should imagine
that- you would not care to have us leave the
house with this suspicion hanging over your
head. You know what peopl will think.”

“I care not what they thin ,” she curtl re-
joined. “But you shall see the room. I ave
nothing to hide“ If you doubt my word you
shall see for yourself. Here is the key.”

She felt in her pocket for the key. It did not
appear to be there.

“ Ah, I remember! Brid et, you will find it
on the mantle in the hal bedroom. I was
standing there with it a few minutes ago.”

Bridget went for the key, leaving the'three
others in silent waiting for her return. But
Grace had changed her manner to the officers.
Instead of preserving her former haughty
silence she now kept up a rapid conversation.

“ Ah! here is the key. Now, gentlemen, you r "

shall see for yourselves.”

In a moment the door stood wide open and
the oflicers had entered. They looked around.
It was as she had said, furnished as a lady’s -
hedchamber. A moment’s examination showed
that it contained no fugitive.

“ Where does this door lead?” asked the
officer, pointing to a door at one side of the
room. '

“To the next apartment, which you have
already searched,” replied Grace, in an un-
natural, alf—choked utterance.

Tim looked into the room to which led the
communicating door from Grace’s chamber.
She watched him with paling face.

“ There was a bout moored at the foot of the
garden,” she remarked. “ Is it there yet? Your
murderer may have taken to the water."

The partly concealed anxiet of her face dis-
a peered when Tim emerg from the room.

is look showed that he had found nothing.

“A boat!” cried the officer. “A good sug-
gestion. You may be right. He is nothere at
all events, and I am sorry for havmg disturbed
you. Come, Tim."

“Bridget, show the gentlemen to the door,”
remarked Grace, coldlly. .
She stood erect an motionless as a statue,
C

 

  

 

hi.“

. . » ..-..-.

 

Bob Rockett’s

Fight for Life. 88

 

'-
While their retreating steps sounded on the
stairs, and until the closing door admonished
her that they had left the house.

Then she turned, and reeled rather than walk-
ed into her room, every vestige of color leaving
her face.

There, almost as pale as she, stood Bob, sup-
porting himself with his hand on the frame of
the communicating door.

“You are an angel of wit and kindness!”
he cried making as if he would fall on his
knees before her. “ Your su gestion about this
door has saved me. I heard your voice, and
knfigflgst when to slip through this fortunate

“ I told them there was no murderer here,”
_she‘ said, her lips deathly white.

Nor is there,” he earnestly replied. “ And
as for crime of any sort, I am done with it for-
ever. _You have saved me from a life of shame
and misery.” .

“ But this dreadful charge! Did you not say

that if you had time you could prove your in-
Docence'!”

“ Yes. I can prove an alibi.”

“By whom i" '

“By a man who has disapipeared. and
Whom I have tried in vain to fin . By Roger
Glindon.”

“ Ah !” she exclaimed, with deep interest.

“ Yes. But he is gone. He has fled with
Marie Oi‘miston. I know not where, nor am I
111 a 'tion to find him.”

“ hen I will make that my task,” she fer-

‘ Vent} replied. “ No money, no eflort, no time
Shall be spared to discover him. If he can save
you he shall be found."

“Thanks! a thousand thanks!” faltered Bob.

“But you must stay here until night. I Wlll
See that no one in the house discovers you.”

CHAPTER XI.
HAUNTED BY THE SHADOW or Danni.
WHERE is there in the world a region more
barren and desolate than the sandy regions of
New Jersey? To those who pass by rail through
these benighted regions, the View of desert
reaches of sand thinly covered‘with scrub pine
and oak, and destitute for miles of a Slg'n of
9; With scarce an insect visible in the swelter~
ins air, is a most depressing eight. But to be

 

‘ ‘1me to wander on foot through such life-for-

salien scenes to 'ourne for miles through the

‘ Yieldin san s, Oll‘ acros’s quaking bogs, Without
itsembfance of living CPmPAnionshlp, who could
0'19; endure such an ex .nce

And particularly if ‘ one_ be haunted by a
crime. from whic he is seeking to fly, but which
ever remorselessly ursues him, it would seem
as if madness must ollow such a horrible ex-
Defiance.

80 it was with the wretch whom we see there
now, dragging himself along slowly under those
gloom Pines. or anon runnin lilies. madman
over t e depressing wastes, Wit his face turned
tea-ffqu over his shoulder, as though he saw
Sonia dread specter on his track.

It was Rusty Mike. He had somehow made

» his way from the Hudson to these benighted re-
gions. without discovery. / _
. But What a change had come upon him! He

\

 

had been  hag ard and cadaverous in his
interview With race 1'” But since then re—
morse, fear. and rhaps hunger, had told fear-
fully upon him. is face was thin almost as
that 'of a. skeleton, the skin drawn tightly over
its fleshlessneSS, while the eyes glittered with a
feverish intensity in the starved face as if the
la t kindled embers of the soul were flashing
through the ashes of a burnt-out life.

It was as if the ghost of his murdered wife
were pursuing him step by step, never giving
the wretch a moments rest, but following his
footsteps with remorseless activity. There was
incipient madness in the shuddering looks which
be cast over his shoulder, inthe haste with which
he started on from ever momentary pause, in
the cries of horror whic now and then broke
from his lips. I _

It was the fitting end to a life of crime, the
retribution which a lon indulgence in bru-
tality must in time buil up for the heartless
wretch. “

“ 0h, mercy, mercy!” he yelled. Away,
away, horrible shapel Leave me! Oh, Will you
never leave me?” _ _ _

He hurried on, his lips-working in convulsive
mutterings. ,

“Ah! must see a human face! Anything,
an danger—but this! Let them take me if they
wifi. I am dying now for food. No, no! I am
dyin of fear—that bloody face ,is killing me.
Oh! lmust get among men auditwomen. She
will not follow me there. Anything to escape
from this.” - .

An hour afterward found the wretch in a
small village, that rose like an oasis out of the
desert woods. He was like a specter come
among men and women. They gazed at him
with half-scared eyes; shrunk from him as from
a maniac or a monster, but did not refuse him
the food for which he craved, and which he de-
voured like a famished beast.

He showed a. fear to depart. He clung to the
vicinity of these beings of his own kind, as if
they could, protect him from the spectral image,
cwhich A his averted eyes still saw over his shoul-

er.

“Move on!” cried one of the villagers, in
brutal tones. “ We have no room here for
tramps or vagrants. Move on to where y‘u can
find work or a poorhouse.”

He quietly obeyed. All the old fierce spirit in
him had been uelled

For several ays this human specter was seen
wandering through village after village of that
Kart of the State. Who could he be? Whence

ad he come? Strange surmises began to be en-
tertained about him. The story of his appear-
ance got into the apers. He became famous
even as far as New ork.

It wasa gloomy day in mld May when he
made his advent into Sunflown, one of the
lar er villages in his line of travel.

is advent had been observed by a group of
village gossips on the inn rob, and an animat-
ed conversation enzued. 0 which he was the sub-
ject. They had heard of him before, and fifty
surmises were made as to who he was, and us
many views as towhat should be done with the
flying skeleton, by which title they des1gnated

1m.

 

 

Bob Rockott’s Fight for Life.

  

 

Something in this conversation attracted the
attention of a young man, a stranger in the vil-
lage, who had lately driven u to the inn. He
listened for awhile to their tal , and asked sev-
eral questions about the appearance of the tramp,
while a look of growing satisfaction came into
his 8 es.

“ nd he is under the porch here now?"

“ Yes. He’s been there this hour."

“ Will one of you be kind enough to call him
out? I would like to see this man."

One of- the inn gossips readily complied with
this request, stirring up the tramp with his foot,
and curtly bidding him to “ come out of there.”

With a groan and a muttered curse Mike
obeyed and followed his conductor to the porch,
where he stood glaring around with his half—in-
sane eyes, though with a secret satisfaction that
he was in the company of his own kind.

“ S’pose ye want me, gentlemen,” he muttered,
looking from face to face.

“ Yes, there‘s a gentleman here wants a look
at your phiz,” replied the man who had sum-
moned him.

Mike looked around in the direction of the
pointing finger. A cry of alarm and a quick
curse broke from his lips.

lb Bob—.19

“ There. there! None of that now!” And Bob
Rockett, for it was he, faced him with a com-
mandin look. “It’s all up, Mike. I have
heard 0 your being here, and have come after
you. You will go with me.”

A touch of Mike’s fierce recklessness returned.

“ Devil take me then if—"

“Hold there, now! Gentlemen, this man is
Mike Cra per, the murderer. He goes with me
to New ork.”

Had a bombshell fallen from a clear sky into
their midst there could not have been greater
surprise and consternation than the group of
village gossi exhibited at that astounding in-
telligence. tarin eyes, uplifted hands, Enra-
lyzed tongues, cha rs overturned in their asty
movement backward, Eartly testified to the surge
of feeling which had 5 0t throu h their brains.”

“ Mike Crap art" “The mur erer!” "Well,
I’ll swowl” ‘ If that don’t beat all! ’ were a
sample of the exclamations which burst from the
astounded villa ers.

“ Exactly. me one tell the landlord to bring
out my team.” .

He touched the shrinking villain on the shoul-
der, and whispered in his ear.

“ Come. Mike, no humbuf now. I gave you a
chance todo me justice, an you refused. I told

on then that you should not escape me, and that
{would hanflou OVer to the police. What I
say I mean, e Crapper. You shall hang for
the murder of that woman, if I have to die in
your company."

Mike, with a 10werlng but cowed face, mut-
tered something unintelligible in re ly. He was
no longer the man he had been of o d.

“Will some one t him a bit of victuals?"
asked Bob. “ Be 100 tarnished." -

M;‘kAin’t eat a morsel these two days,” grumbled
9.

One of the men hastened back with this ihari—

table intent. Mike seemed utterly cowed. He

remained in a bowed attitude, his eyes fixed . “Hold!” cried Bo ,clapping his hand on the

 

fully upon his captor. When the food was
brought him he devoured it with the ravenous
ap tlte of a starving dog.

t the same time Bob’s team, a one—horse
igpent wagon, was brought around to the hotel
ron .

“ Don’t you want some help?” asked a sturdy
villager. ‘ It mou htn’t be safe fur youtotravel
alone with that ru ‘ n." . '

A half-laugh broke from Bob’s lips. He drew
up his powerful form, and fixed his eyes with a
contemptuous look upon his prisoner.

“No, thank you,” he said. “I fancy that I
am a good match for our friend here.”

It seemed so, indeed, for Bob was the imper-
sonation of health and strength, while his cap-
tive, though raw-boned and muscular, was so 1
emaciated that he looked as if he would be but .
a. feather in the hands of his vigorous ca tor. .,

In a few minutes more they were in t e car— 5
riage and away, followed by the wondering and
excited looks of the villagers.

“ My stars! he takes a murderer without even "

handcufflng him i” cried the landlord.

“ He’s a hold one, you bet,” exclaimed another.
“ Did you notice his shoulders? Why he‘s a
young giant.” u

“ And I saw the shape of a pistol-stock in his
pocket,” announced a third. “ The murderer
wouldn’t have no more chance in his hands than
a cat-bird in a hawk’s claws.” 1:;

For miles and miles they drove through, that
gloomy May day, ever tending toward thaw
in bthe l:lifsatlzince. h h ,5; '1»:

ig t was approac ing as t ey at lengigf
drove through the streets of Jersey Cit an
approached the ferry leading across the orth ,
River to New York.

But few of the officers were left in the central ,1
police-station, when at length this carriage, with
its strange occupants, halted in front of the'
door, and Bob, in a hoarse voice, bade his com-
rade descend.

Mr. Foster. and the two or three officers who

remained with him, in the main room of the -1_

station, lifted their eyes questionably, as these
two men entered.

Mike walked in a bent attitude, with a treach-
erous expression in his eyes as they half turned
upon his captor.

“Well, In friends,” said Mr. Foster, shortly,
“what can do for on?”

Bob’s voice seem to have grown hoarse ash
answered. But there was no faltering in i
dun tones.

“I have been doing your work for you, gen- 
tlemen. I have brought you here, Mike Crapper
the murderer. Here is yo r man. You w’

lees: relieve me of any further charge of
im!

“ The deuce!” exclaimed the officer, springing
from his listless attitude, and hurrying across
the floor, to fix his keen eyes on Mike’s lowering

ace.

“By heavens, boys, it is he! Hang me, if
this isn’t a catch Worth making! And who are
you, and where and how did you manage to
take him?” he asked, turning to Bob.

“ I will tell you.” exclaimed Mikemaliciously.
“ It’s a double catch maybe. He is—"

as"

 

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301) Rockett’l

Fight for Life. 25

 

murderer’s mouth. “I have the first word in
this game. I am he w 0 has been falsely ac-
cused of taking part in this murder, and whom
this villain refuses to clear of the charge. I am
Bob Rockett, the accused l” '

There was a look of dignity upon his face, in
strong contrast to the shrinking cowardice of
his companion, as he stood upright and calm
before the officers, devoted to his fate.

 

CHAPTER XII.
THE NET DRAWING IN.

THERE was considerable excitement in the
reading public of New York when the news of
the event described in our last chapter became
known. For a. murderer to surrender himself
Voluntarily, with the purpose of bringing his
confederate to justice, such an event was unpre-
Cedented. What could be the real motive at the
bottom of it? It certainly did not look like the
act of a guilt man, and a strong sentiment in
favor of Bob ockett's innocence was created in
the public mind by his self-sacrifice in behalf of
Justice.

He was interviewed in his prison cell by an en-
terprising newspaper reporter, and gave the fol-
lowing information beyond that already known
to the reader. He declared that he had not been
in the_room of the murderer on the da of the
crime. He had business with him, and ad met
him on the stairs on the way to his room. Mike
Crapper had acted very strange] on that occa-
sion, had insisted that they shou d go outside for
the transaction of their business, and on his visi—
tor’s complaint of the heat, had taken his over-
coat, saying that he would take care of it until
it was wanted again.

The overcoat was left in the murderer’s room,
and the blood on its sleeve, and on the handker-
chief in its pooket. was probably put there by
the murderer with the sudden thought of impli-
catintr his visitor in the crime.

_ “ e always hated me,” continued Bob, “and

’ probably wished to injure me in this way. At

any rate I did not hear of the murder until the
evening of that day, and was astonished to find
t in name was coupled with 1t.‘_’
.“Ahd'wb you no proof of this statement?
' N thin “to e‘xenerate you?”

,0

“‘th i whatever. There isa proof which

‘ would «2% if I could get at it. I do not
.. ikn‘f‘m whet r or not I will succeed.”

, Whatjs'its nature?” asked the reporter.
3‘ I“ I decline to tell. The matter is in the hands
“‘40! my la er, and of a friend. I do not know

if it we d be to my advantage to make it
public.” ‘ _

This was an the shrewd questioning reporter
could get from him, He persistently refused to
tell what was this evidence on which he relied to
prove his innocence.

The tidings of this strange event. were re-
ceived at the Garland household With varied
emotions. Grace had made no secret of her ad-
ventures with the two fugitives. and a thrill of

Y horror went throu h the souls of her listeners on
gearing of her peri ous adventure with the mur-
erer.

“ To think of your trustin him so as to return
to him alone i” exclaimed or father. “ 

 

 

 

gou might have known that it was dangerous.
uch men have no gratitude.”

“ I know it now,” replied Grace. “ I have
learned a lesson in prudence.”
I “ And then to bring that other man into the
house, and conceal him from the police! It was
a very bold and risky action. And to put your-
self in the power gt a murderer.”

e is no mur ererl’ cried Grace indignant-
ly. “And after what he did for me I would
have been ungrateful indeed to refuse him pro-
tecgiéri. What (10 you say, Pauli Did I not do
m

all] made no answer, but he put his arm
around her waist, and looked into her sparkling
eyes with an expression of perfect trust and de—.
votion.

“ I know you agree with me.”

“ Indeed do,” answered Paul. "I have ut-
terly Chan ed my opinion about Rob Rockett.
Since the ay I saved his life upon the river, he
has done me nothing but good, and I cannot be-
lieve that such a man is capable of the dark
crime that is charged against him.”

She turned impulsively and imprinted afer-
vent kiss upon his lips.

“Thanks! thanksl” shee‘aculated. “ I knew

on would not leave me a he in my faith in

im.

“All sentiment! A11 ridiculous sentiment!"
growled her father.

“ The evidence against him
is overwhelming.”

“But, this last act of his, father?”

“ Yes, I admit that is stran e‘ and I hardly
know how to understand it. u then he may
have felt himself so cornered by the police that
escape was impomible, and this may be only a
ruse to create a public feellnglin his favor.”

“ He was not cornered by t e police l” she cried
impulsively. “ He defied the police.
him credit for nothing.”

“ I don’t want to be hard, child,” replied her
father calmly. “ But I know somethin more
of human nature than you can, and I lieve
there is far more of bad than good in this man.
If he 18 innocent where is his evidence? He has
not brought an iota of proo .”

Grace smiled mysteriously.

“ The proof will be forthcoming in good time,"
she re lied.

“ W y, what do you mean?” asked her father
and husband simultaneously.

“That is mgr secret. I have undertaken to
clear Bob Rec ett of this crime. I have not
suceeeded yet in my eflorts, but I hope to sue-
coed. I think I am on the track of the necessary
eVidence.”

Despgte all their questioning, nothing more
could got from her. She answered them with
simlmg mysteriousuess.

“ Just wait. You have got to be part of the

You give

general public. After all he has done for me I
fvfillgiever desert him. I owe him a life for a
i e.

She took the first 0 portunity to glance at a
slip of pa or which 8 0 held in her hand, and
which ha come to her that morning from the
prison of Bob Rnckett. »

“ If I was but free now. I would find him,” it
read. “I have been thinking it over sinceI

'have been here. He is with Marie Ormiston.

 

/

    

26

    

Bob Rockett’s Fight for Life.

 

m: pur..uczl the life of a Brofcssional gambler in
company with George elormc. But, Roger
Glindon is an expert at card play. He has run
through his money and is poor./' Undoubtedly
that is their object in leaving New York. They
have started out on a tour of gambling. They
can be best found by followmg the ordinary
routes of the rambling fraternity. Confer with
my lawyer. 6 will know where to look for
such characters. And lose no time. The days
are growing precious now.”

She had to lowed the suggestions of this note,

' ahd a series of shrewd eyes were already on the

look out for two such characters, in ever city
where such a course of life could be pro tably
followed.

But we must, for the present, step in advance
of her telegrams and get our eyes ahead of those
of her agents.

In the parlor of a small, but neat inn at
Rochester, N. Y., two persons are seated. It is
several days later4 than the date of the above
given conversation, yet the subject of their con-
ference, is the same as that which proved so in—
teresting to Grace Essex.

It is in fact, Roger Glindon and Marie Orm—
iston. ..

“ It’s an outrageously awkward business, that
about Bob Rockett,” he said, as he picked up a
newspaper and ran his e 9. over it. “ Somehow
I can t swallow it that oh had all that in him.
But I’ll be hanged if I know what to make of
this last job; his giving himself ufito the police.
Anxiety to help them take the ot er fellow, eh?
That won’t do, Bob. That’s decidedly too thin.
You never was such a confonnded fool as that.”

“ Who is this Bob Rockett?” she asked.

He looked at her for a moment and then burst
into an amused laugh.

“ By Jove, Marie, you ought to know,” he ex-
claimed. “ Who is be but your friend with the
spectacles; the young gentleman to whom you
owe such compliments.”

“ That villain!” she cried, her eyes flashing.
“ But you told me that he was dead—that you
settled him yourself, for his treachery in that
bank job.”

“ I fancied I bad. But Bob has a hard head
and he came round all right again. Don’t be so
hard, my dear,” he laughed. “ It was only
diamond cut diamond between you and him you
know, and his diamond proved the sharpest.
You must not bear malice. ”

“ I don’t like him, at any rate. And I don’t
fancy that you can make me like him.”

He continued to muse. ' x

“ I don’t know. Wasn’t I with Bob on the day
of that murder? Let me see—the 26th of April
——on Thursday. By Jove, that was the da ! I
know it now because it was the day I so (1 may
horse. Who knows but I mi ht prove an alibi. ’

“ Don‘t you trouble yourse f about such that
ters," she shrewishly replied. “ We have our
own businessto look after. Let this man take
care of himself.”

And for a week thereafter she fought down
the rising sense of duty in her easy-virtued com-
panion, as they moved from place to lace in the
exercise of their chosen profession of eecing the
card-playiu community.

At the en of this week they found themselves
\ ,

 

in Cincinnati. There they put up at one of the
principal hotels and prepared to look around
them, and test the capacities of that place for
their special business.
Marie was an adopt in the art of inveigliug
the unsus icions into her toils her former ex-
rience uring her life with George Delorme
aving taught her all the mysteries of her dis-
re utable business.
oger had just parted with her at the ladies’

entrance to the hotel, and had now lounged into .

the main ofiice, where he now occupied himself
in looking over the names in the hotel register,
with the hope, perhaps, of discovering some game
for his bait.

A touch upon the shoulder aroused him from
this occupation. He turned and looked into the
{lace of a person who was a perfect stranger to

1m.

“Well, sir?” he curtly asked.

“ Excuse me, but could I have a few minutes’
private conversation with you?”

Roger looked at him questionineg for a few
moments, asking himself what this man could
want with him. He finally said: '

“Very well. I have no objections. Particu-
larly as I am curious to know what business you
can have with me.”

The man made no reply, but led the way to the

readin -room of the hotel, where he took a seat I i

by a ta le in an unoccupied corner.

Here, before speaking, he 0 nod and lanced
over a news aper that lay be ore him. inally,
placing his nger on a special paragra 1:, he lift-
ed his eyes to Roger, who was curiou y regard-
in 1m.

5‘ Do you take any interest in this murder
trial, that is going on just now in New York 2”
he asked.

Roger started with surprise.

“Is that what you brought me here for?”

“ Yes. I wish to read you some of the‘evi-
deuce in the trial of Michael Crapper, which has
been proceeding now for two days.” _

“ I am much obliged toyou,” answered Roger,
a little angrily. “ But I prefer to choose my own
readin and readers.”

“ On a moment, sir. It ap are here on un-
doubt evidence that the mu er took place at
the hour of half-past ton on the morning of
Thursday, the %th of April.”

it Yes.”

“ But there is another accused of this murder,
who was not seen in the house until after eleven
o‘clock on that morning—one Robert Rockett.”

“ Well?” asked Roger.

“ It is claimed that he was in the room in
company with Crapper and took part- in the
murder.

“ Very well.”

“But, suppose now that it could be proved
that he was not there at that hour? Suppose an
alibi could be proved?”

“ He could snap his finger at them, then, 1 \

should say,” returned Roger, indiflerently.
“ But, my dear sir, I am not interested in this
matter. Why have you pitched on mete bore
me with your murders?”

“ Because it is you that must prove the alibi. I

Because you are wanted in New York, Roger
Glindon!”

 

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Bob Rockctt’s

Fight for Life. 27

 

W That afternoon telegra h Incssag‘s flashed
swxftly between Cincinuati and New York, and
a smile of hope replaced the anxious look which
lied been growing deeper in the eyes of Grace
Lssex.

Beige denouement of her work was drawing

 

CHAPTER XIII.
THE MURDER. TRIAL.
. IT was an impressive scene. The venerable
1‘}ng upon the bench, with his dignified asso-
plates; the group of shrewd and earnest lawyers
In the inclosure below; the crowding throng
that filled every spare inch of the large room,
and the utter silence that prevailed between the
( uestions and answers of counsel and witness, in
t e intense anxiety to not lose a word of this in-
teresting examination.

It was the trial of Bob Rockctt as an acces-
sor the murder of Sarah Crapper.

he trial of Mike Crapper had been concluded
the day before, in a verdict of guilty, and he
Was remanded to prison to await sentence. But
every effort to induce him to clear Bob Rockett
Ofithe charge of complicity in the murder had
failed. He evidently bore ill-will against the
man who had brought him to trial for hiscrime,
and he persistently declared that Bob had been
Present and taken part in the murder.

“ Can ou state at what hour of the morning
these noxses were heard?” asked the prisoner’s
counsel of the witness on the stand.

“At half-past ten o’clock.”

“ Are you sure of this?”

“Y .51

“ What makes you sure?”

“Why, sir, my clock had run down, and I
had  gone into my neighbor’s room to get
thetune to set it. It n as but a. minute or two
after half-past ten. I had left the room and
Was going back to my own, when I heard a
Scream and a heavy fall, that seemed to come
from Mike Crapper’s room.” .

. “ Had you heard an noises from that direc-
tlongirevious to this fa l?” . _

“ less you, sir, they’d been fighting like cats
and dogs for a ood hour before. But that was
nothing new, or they were a nuisance Wltb
their 6 htin x” . _

“Di ou gear any other man’s voxce, besxdes
that of ichael Crapper?” , ‘

“ couldn’t say as to that, for I wusujt givmg
them much attention. Howsoever, I didn’t no-

: tice nothing strange.”

“ What did you do after hearing the full?”
“I run down to Mike Cra per’s' door. [here
was three or four of us, fort 0 noise had shook
my whole house.”
J Go on. Tell what happened.” I
. W113. We found Rusty Mike standing out-
s‘den With the door tight shut behind him, and

’ .lookmg savagemough to eat us all up alive.

8 Wanted to know ‘ what we was after? and
told us in pretty lain English to tend to our
own business and e’d tend to his’n.” _
bigwid you hear any noise in the room beh 1nd I
:‘Not a whimper. It was as still as death.”
. ‘ d-what did you do?”

 

» “ I gave Mike Crapper a piece of my mind,”

answered the witness, placing her arms aklmbo,
and lookingas if she would repeat the operation
at short notice. “ He kept mighty mute while We
were talking, and he let us go without hardly a
word back,‘ which wasn’t a bit like Rusty
Mike, for he had a rascally impudent tongue of
his own.”

Several other witnessos were examined to the
same efl’ect, it being apparently the object of
the lawyer to fix precise y the moment of the
murder, and also to show that it had been re-
ceded b a sharp domestic quarrel, of a kin to
which 1: e presence of a third person would have
acted as a damper.

This point fixed, another witness was called to
testify to the time at which Bob Rockett had
been seen in com any with the murderer.

“ I was a-Stanc in’ at my room door,” testified
this good woman. “It was then ten minutes
past eleven. I’ll tell you how I know, as I
s’peot you’ll be axin’ me next. Well, Mrs.
Brown had, a bit afore, been in to see me ’bout
the time, cause her clock had run down. But
urtersbe 0t into a bit of a scrimmage with
Rusty Mi {0 she clear forgot it. And that was
how she come back ag’in for the time. Well,
arter she left, I was a lookin’ out my room door,
when who should I see but two men a-comin
down the stairs, of which the one was Rusty
Mike? T’other I didn’t quite see the face, only
sort 0’ sideways. But he was as much like the
young man there afore us as two peas.”

The burden of all the evidence thus elicited
was to the effect that the murder must have
taken place at half-past ten o’clock—that, at ten
minutes past eleven, Mike Crapper had been
seen descending the stairs in com any with a
man resembling the prisoner at t e ar—and
that the fact of the murder was not discovered
until an hour afterward, when a stream of
blood had been seen running out under the door.
0n forcin open the room door Sell Crapper
had been ound, lying on the bed, wit the side
other head crushed in. and with the appear
ance of having been dead fora considerable time.

The prosecuting attorney now undertook the
cross-examination of the last witness, she who
had testified to the finding of the dead body.

“Will you please state to the jury what was
the appearance of the room when you entered
it’

“ Well, sir, for the room itself, its appearance
was pretty much what it generally was. 'cept
for t e blood on the floor and the stick with
which the poor thing had been murdered, and
which had u. knob on it as big as your fist, sir,
and blood on the knob.”

“ Have you seen this coat before?” holding up
a rough-surfaced spring overcoat.

“I couldn’t swear to that,” shaking her head
dubiously. “Only it looks just like a coat that
I found on the chair-back in that there room, on
that occasion."

“This is not crossexamination, your Honor,”
cried the prisoner’s counsel. springmg to his feet
and addressing the Bench. \

e was unexpectedly interrupted in a most
unusual manner. The prisoner, who had re-
tained his upright, flrm attitude, and had in-
tently listened to all that had passed, now ad-
dressed the court in a clear, calm tone. ‘ V

 

  

28

 

 

Bob Rockett’s Fight for Life.

 

“ Excuse me, Mr. Johnson,” he said, “ but
please let him go on. The court wants the
truth, and I don't want to hide it. The coat is
mine. We have no object in trying to conceal
the truth.”

This sudden and frank avowal went like a
shock of earthquake through the room. The
‘udges stared in surprise, a sound came from the

ips of the audience that was almost a cry of ap-

proval, Mr. Johnson, the lawyer, sprun to his
feet with a face reddened with angor. e was
on the point of a sharp rebuke to the prisoner,
when his eyes fell upon the faces of the jurors.
He sunk quietly back upon his seat. e was
keen eno h to perceive, in their expressions,
that his c ient had done more to bias them in
his favor than all the Witnesses that could be
brought. Frankess and honesty had told.

Further examination of witnesses elicited the
fact that the coat had a slight clot of blood upon
the right sleeve, such as might have been got by
one assisting to lift the body to the bed.

It appeared, also, that the handkerchief in
tllie pocket of the coat was slightly discolored by
b 00d.

All this had been adverted to by Mr. Johnson
in his opening address to the court.

“But,” he had continued, “ though unfortu-
nately there was no eye present to tell just what
occurred, yet the circumstances of the case were
such as must show clear] the innocence of my
client. Is it a reasouab e theory, gentlemen,
that any sane man, after having assisted in a
murder, would have deliberately thrown off the
coat which was stained with the red witness of
the crime, and leave it behind him to serve as
evidence ainst himsolf? 1 hope to show that
he did not in of the kind, that he was not in
the room at a , but that his coat was put there
b Michael Crapper himsolf, and dipped in the
b ood by this treacherous wretch, so as to make
of an innocent visitor a seeming associate in his
crime.” , ,

This point, which it seemed impOSSible to
prove, was wonderfully cleared up by the next
witnesses. Blood flowing freshly from a wound,
and blood which has lain for a half~hour in a
pool, are by no means the same fluids. The evi-
dence of a hysician was taken, who had made
a microscopic examination of the blood on the
sleeve, and who testified that it had undoubted-
ly fin put there after the blood had partly
c 0

Such was not the case with the blood on the
handkerchief. That undoubtedly was fresh
blood. As to how it came there, no evidence
was forthcoming, for Bob‘s statement that it had
been received from a cut on his own hand was
not evidence for the court.

The face of the prisoner's counsel manifested a
growing anxiety as the moments wore on. His
ey wandered frequently to the door of the
court-room. His ears seemed strained to catch
every sound from without. Yet a look of
figuppointment gradually grew upon .his coun-

nce

na .

Allthe witnemes who had been called were
examined. The la ers were busy with their
notes. The judge loo ed somewhat impatiently
toward them. .

“ Your Honor,” said Mr. Johnson, rising, “ I

c -. ,
,4.¢~;~ - . » 'v * ...., .

 

z' " . v ‘I “7-4:”, - ‘4

had hoped to produce another witness, of far
more importance than any that have yet been
examined. 1 had hoped, indeed, to prove an ~
alibi in my client’s case. As this i rtaut
witness is not forthcoming, I must requesta con:

tinuance of the case until tomorrow, so that I .

may be enabled to offer his testimony.”
he judge looked doubtful, and conferred for
several minutes with his associates.

“ I am afraid this cannot be,” he answered.
“ The court is too crowded with business. You
have had plentiful time to procure your wit—
nesses. The trial must go on.’

The disappointed law or seated himself again 
rather angrily. Only or a moment, however. ,

A noise outside had attracted his attention.
Several persons were pushing into the crowded
room. I e s rung to his feet, and a flash of light
shot across is face.

“ A continuance will not be necessary, your
Honor,” he cried. “My witness is here.’

There were a half-dozen persons in the group

which had crowded into the room. Among them _

were our friends, Grace and Paul Essex, and the
greatly-needed witness, Roger Glindon.

An immense bustle pervaded the room as these
persons made their way toward the inclosure,
and Roger Glindon, at t
son, entered the Witness stand.

We will dispense with the preliminary por-
tions of his examination.

“On the morning of Thursday, the 26th of
A ril,” he continued, in response to a ' estion,
“ walked, in companIy with Robert kett,
along Grand street. parted with him at the
corner of Broadway.”

“How came you to Separate at this point?"
asked Mr. Johnson.

“ He told me that he had a matter of business
with Rusty Mike, as he called him. As I did not

can’to see that gentleman, I did not accompany I
m

“At what hour was this?”

“ At exactly eleven o’clock.”

As this answer the feelin
could be no longer rtstrain
broke on: in the room, while the surge of eeling
that arose even took the Beach in its course.

“ How are you sure that this was on the 26th
of April, and that the hour was as stated?” asked
the lawyer. i

“Because I had an appointment at half-past
eleven of that morning with John Brand, the
owner of a livery stable on Fourth avenue, and
I looked at my watch on leavin Mr. Rockett
and found that I was likely to be to. I know
the date from the fact that my appointment was
for the pur se of selling him a horse. I have
here the b' of sale." .

Mitt Johnson took and glanced over the docu-
men .

“ is is dated April 26th,” he announced,
passing it to the juit‘jy.

“ How long woul it take to reach Michael .
Crapper’s residence from the point at which you
parted with Mr. Beckett?” '

“ Probably five minutes, with quick walking”. '

It was impossible to bring the audience again
into a state of calmness. Grace Essex had made
her way to the side of the prisoner and offered

/

 

e request of Mr. John-,

of the audience '
A general cry ,

«

 

ORH'H‘AA

 

far

an ~
ant
on:
it I _

, had something to do with

 

Bob Rockett’l

Fight for Life. 29

 

hlm her hand, over which he bent with tears of
gratitude in his eyes.

The trial went on in a hasty and confused way.
Thepose was too evident for any further ques-
tioning, and on being given to the jury they
made no pretense of leaving the box to decide on
a verdict.

“ Do you find the prisoner at the bar guilty or
not uilty?”

“ 0t guilty!” came in the clear tones of the
foreman of the jury.

Then a shout that seemed enough to lift the
roof broke from the assembled multitude. But
Bob Rockett only kissed the hand which he held
and which was wet with his tears, while his head
was bowed in thankfulness and prayer.

. CHAPTER XIV.
A PLEASANT CONSUMMATION.

A YEAR has passed since the date of our last
Chapter. There only remains to us to briefly
describe some of the events of that year.

.As to one of our characters we do not need to
dlspose of him, since the law has saved us that
trouble. We refer to Mike Crapper, who has at
length escaped from the demon of remorse
:Vohch pursued him, by the aid of the hangman’s

De.

As for one of his old associates, Beau Bink, the
fate of Rusty Mike has certainly scared; him out
Of his illegal courses. The would~be exquisite
Was, in fact, never a rogue in grain. His crimi~
pal courses were always confined to pocket-pick-
mg, and he has even given up this avocation
- h$‘0ugh horror of the end of his old assoaiate in
crime.

The attempted bank robbery, in which so many
of our characters were involved, has fallen into
the background before the more important
eVents detailed in these chapters.

“ So long as the bank is none the worse for the
9110117,”?remarks Mr. Garland, “ I think it will

as well to let the affair drop, particularly as
We have no positive proof against any of the
suspected parties.”

_‘ And as, through it, I have gained a dear
Wife," continues Paul Essex, pinching Grace’s

nger.

“ And I a teasing husband,” rejoins Grace,
lal‘i‘ghintgly pulling his ear.

An besides,” broke in Mr. Garland, “ Ihave
changed my sentiments toward young Rockett.

here is 00d in the fellow, much more good
than bad, must admit. Poor boy! perhaps I
driving him into his
“'11 courses, for I was very harsh with him. I
Saw him in the court-room on his trial, and he
Certainly held himself like a man; and an honest
Egan grain. I must try and do something for

“ 911! Will on?” exclaimed Grace, clin ing
I? 1“? arm, an looking u eagerly into his ace.

.Wlu‘ You ve him a c once? Will you take
11121 into the rink again?”

I can hardly promise to do that, Grace,” he
replied. “After all that has happened the di-
rectors would scarcely consent. And I doubt
V917 much it Beckett would accept such a situa-
tlon. . But somethin can be done. I can get
him into some bones business, and give him a
chance."

 

vie 

 

“ Thanks, thanks, father! I have such an in-
terest in him.”

“ Come, come Grace! I shall be jealous of
your friend Bob Beckett, if you go on at that
rate,” cried I’aul, laughin 1y.

“ Very Well, sirrah. Ifg you prefer I am sure
I have no obJections. I owe him at least three
very important favors. I am afraid I will not
be able to pay them all off.”

“ Why, you little wildfire you have paid off
two of them already,” exclaimed Paul. “You

rsuaded him to be an honest man and saved

im from his pursuers. We will call that one.
You brought him Roger Glindon to clear him
of the murder charge. That’s two.”

“ And now you have coaxed me to get him
on his feet again. That’s three,” chimedin her
father.

“ Very well, but I fancy I owe him some back
interest yet,” persisted Grace.

“By the way,” continued Mr. Garland,
“ what has become of Roger Glindon?”

“ He has disappeared from New York again,”
answered Paul. “ Gone to rejoin his associate,

I suppose.” .

“ at is a. man in whom there is no g ,”
remarked Mr. Garland, decidedly.

“I fear not,” answered Grace. “After his
heartless effort to put out Paul’s eyes, for Ithink ’
there is no doubt but it was he that acted as
ringleader of those burglars.” .

“ He will come to a bad end,” averted Paul,
shaking his head. “ He is one of the kind who
always go from bad to worse.”

 

It is, as we have said, a year after the
date of our last chapter. During that period
Roger Glindon and Marie Ormiston, hiscompan-
ion, have diligently ursued their course of
fleecing weak-headed upes.

She has em loyed her charms of face and man-
ner to lure t ese moneyed weaklings to their
ruin, while Roger, by his skill in gaming, has
finished the Work, and turned them penniless in-
to the street. There is no robbery; nothin that
the law can take hold of. Oh no! it isal fair: .
quite as fair as to .ut your handin a man’s
pocket and take out is purse.

It is May again. A noble steamer is making
its way rapidly down the broad Mississip i. Our
gambling pair have just made .Lcuisv lle too
hot to hold them, and are on their way to Nash-
ville, where they hope to reap a new harvest.

But they believe in making hay while the sun
shines, and Roger has worked up a little match
at cards between himself and a rather rough-
looking borderer. “Just for amusement, you
know.’ , , .

Yet the betting has been rather high consid-
ering that it is only amusement, and a consider-
able crowd of lockers-on are athered around
the table deeply interested in t e game.

Some iadies are present in the saloon, and
more than one of these is looking eagerly on at
the players. But Marie Ormiston, w o hasmost
reason to be interested, is seated at the remote
end of the cabin, occupied only with her fan,
and paying no heed whatever to the excitement
around the players. She has faith in Re er.

“ A cool hundred on this hand,” says t e bor-

 

    

80 Bob Rockett’s

Fight for Life.

 

derer, looking at the cards which Roger has just
dealt him.

“Five hundred better,” Roger quietly an-
swers.

The borderer looks up from his cards, and a
quick flash shoots into his eye. A person who
stands behind Roger, is carelessly holding a
small mirror in such a way that the gambler’s
hands are clearly shown to his opponent. The
latter detects a peculiar motion of the fingers,
and his eyes blaze with sudden passion.

“I see your five hundred!” he cries, flin ing
his cards face upward u n the table. “ ere
are my pictures. Four acks.”

“ Four aces," Roger quietly rejoined, dis-
playing his cards also.

‘ You lie, you infernal scoundrell One of
those cards came from your sleeve.”

In an instant he is on his feet, has caught
Roger’s left arm, and drawn several cards from
their place of concealment in his loose sleeve.

With a cry of alarm the spectators back off
from the table. Marie has dropped her fan and
is on her feet.

r " I lie, do I ?” ejaculates Roger, with restrained
anger. “Drop that money you bound, or I’ll
measure your coffin for you."

But the infuriate Westerner is as quick as his
antagonist. Revolvers flash out simultaneously.
That of the borderer, who is more accustomed
to quick work than his rival, cracks spitefully.
Roger, shot through the breast, falls headlong
to the floor, his own weapon explodingas he
falls. and sending its ball through the roof of
the saloon.

But his antagonist is not to esca so readily.
Another sharp crack; a light pu of smoke;
the successful duelist falls prostrate in his turn.

“ That for revenge!” cries Marie, as she
8 rings forward, pistol in hand, through the
s inking and horror-stricken observers, and
seizes the money that lies’upon the table.

Before any one thinks to stop her she has left
the cabin, and is lost amid the crowd of passen-
gers in the other part of the boat. The whole
thing has passed so uickly that no one has even
been able to obserVe er face sufficiently to know
her again.

As for the two prostrate gamblers, Roger
Glindon is found to be stone dead; shot through
the hearr, His antagonist is wounded in the
shoulder, a dangerous. but not fatal wound.

And so we art with these two of our charac-
ters, Roger lindon to his grave, Marie Ormis-
ton to a life through which we do not care to
follow her.

As for Bob Rockett, we may discover him»-
at the very moment when Roger fell dead before
the pistol of his antagonist—in a little office in
Wall street, New York. Said office is neither
remarkable for size not furniture, but it is big
enough for Bob, as he has often said. And for
the tall, lank, thhered old chap, with the dandy,-
ish afiectation, who is writing away for dear
life at his single desk, it is a perfect palace of
sum tuousnese. -

“ t is a little better than your parlor, with
the cobweb ' gs " said Bob, in response to
the praises of this in ividnal. “ You remember

. the shanty down on Blair street, Beau?"

 

“ Don’t I?" answered Beau Bink, for it was no

other than that individual. “ That was the last
place where I followed my old business. Tell you
what, Bob, it’s nice to feel you’re in an honest
line, and can laugh the perlice in the face. Ain’i
it, now?"

“ I fancy so,” laughed Bob. “ And nimble
fingers with the pen pay as well as in folks’
pockets, eh?”

"Better, better! There’s a pecooliar satisfac-
tion ’bout it all, as I could never feel in the old
trade,” and Bean scratched his ear, and then
dashed into the details of his work as if his pen
was a racehorse and had only a minute to make
the half-mile turn.

“ Well, well, Beau, I must be away. Got fifty
thousand bushels of barley to push off.‘ on the
floor to-day. Choice Canadian at that, my boy.
Ought to get a prime figure, eh?”

Seizing his hat Bob went briskly from the
Office, chanting a verse of a popular song as he
disappeared.

He looked very different from when we last i
saw him. Clean-shaven, smoothly combed, his
face full of animation and hope, dressed neatly
and fashionably, he was a very different figure
from the fugitive we lately saw shirking the
police, or the prisoner on trial for his life in
court. ’

“ Honesty pays.” Such was the burden of Bob’s
song. “ The same energy and wits given tobllSl-
ness as to rascality will bring twice the returns
in money, and six times the returns in satisfac-
tion. T hat’s in experience.”

In fact, Bob ockett was now a full-fled
broker on the New York Grain Exchange.
Garland, seeing the bent of his mind, had quick-
ly determined that no quiet line of business would
suit his temperament. Something active and ex-
citing was needed for Bob. After looking around.
the whole field the experienced banker had end-
ed by purchasing him a footing on the floor of the
grain exchange, and entering him as a. full-
fledged broker. _

It was just the opening that Bob’s energies
needed. He had quickly built himself up a good
business, and was already makin money With a
rapidity that kept his admirer, eau Bmk, m a
state of endless admiration.

On his return from the Board, on the day
in question, he cried out iubilantly to Bean, on
opening the door of his office: .

“ A splendid sale, Beau! Barley has nz. Got
three cents abOVe yesterday’s market— Ah! Oh! r
excuse me, Mrs. Essex; I did not know you were
here.” -

“ I am glad to see that you are doing so well,”
said Grace, holding out her hand. ‘

“ It is all due to you," answered Bob grate-

fnll .

“)It is all due to yourself,” she replied. “ 1 have
onl partly repaid your benefits. By the way,
at ather’s request, I wish to inVIte you to take
\dinner with us to—mnrrow. Can you come?”

“ Certainly. I shall only be too happy.” .

“ And— But what was the burden of that lit-
tle $33}; I heard you humming when I was last.
hcrc‘. V ‘,

“ Honesty pays best," answered Bob, with a‘
laugh. “ The newest, truest and best song out. i’

And so upon them all we- drop the curtain.

THE END. 

r’4

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POCKET LIBRARY.

. EEAD LE,S\PEICE, five CENTs.\\

i

 

 

' 140 CI

91 Maritime Sam, the Klng ofthu Plnim. By Joe. E.

gar, r.

99 The ocean Bloodhound: or. The Red Pirates of
the Clribheee. By Snmucl \ '. ['Mflrce.

98 Phil llnrdy, the Bose liuy; or, The Mystery of the
Strongbow. By Chnrlen Morris.

94 Deadwood Dick an Detective. By E. L.Vl'heeler.

95 Buck Buck-out); or, Baas. tha Female Trapper.
B Cnptnin J. F. . Adams.

93 Gilli-Edged Dick, the Sport Detective. By E. L.

8% er.
9'? TlheBIoiluek Steed oi’ the Prairies. By Jnmen
. ".11.
9B The San Serpent; or. The Boy Robinson Crusoe.
By John Lewls.
99 Bonanza Bill. the Men Tracker. By E. L. Wheeler.
100 Not Todd or, The Fm of the Sioux Cnptive. By

Edward S. E lin.
101 During Davy; the Young Bear Killer.

t. George.

108 The Yellow Chiei} or,The Half-blood’s Vengeance
By Capt. Mayne R ld.

108 Chip, the Girl Sport; or, The Golden 1-101 of Mt.
Rom. By Edward L. Wheeler.

104 The Blnék Schooner; or, Jib Junk, the 01d
an. By Roger Stnrhlick.

105 liondeome Harry, the Buotblack Detectlve. By
Charles Morris.

108 Ni ht-lllwk Kit; or, the Daughter 0! the Ranch.
By 03. E. Badger, Jr.

107 Jock lloyle’n Lead; or, The Young Speculator.
By Edward L. Wheeler.

108 Rock Mountain Kit, the White Mustanger.
B ' T. ‘. Harbaugh.

109The Branded “and; or, The Mm oI Myttery.
Bv Frank Dunmnt.

110 The Dread Rider; or,yTh« Texan Duelist. By
George W”. llrowne. '

111 “on: Bob. thus King of Buntlulnckl. By E. L.Whee:er.

112 The llelplene "and. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

118 Boar-Fnce flan], theSilent Hunter. lly ()ll Cnmnes.

114 Piney Paul. the Mount-tin Boy; or. The Little
Arrnw of the Adirundnckn. By T. C. llnrbnu rh.

115 Deadwood Dick’s Double. By E. L. W meler.

116 Jnhoz Collin. Ski per; or, Lost in the Polnr Regloua.

By Cnpt. F. Whittn er. _

117 Fancy Frank, of Cnlorndo. By Hon. W. F. Cody.
“ Bniinlo Bill.”

118 Will Wildiire, the Thoroughhred. 15y Chne. Morris.

119 Blonde Bill' or, Deadwood Dirh’l Home Base.
By Edwnrd iniz'hee er.

120 Gopher Gld, the Boy Trapper. By T. C. Hnrhauzh.

121 Harry Armstrong, the i‘npmin oftha Club. By
Bracehridge Hem 'ng. (Jack Hurknwny.)

132 The Hunted lunter: M, The Strange Horwmun
of the Prnirle. By Edward S. Ellie.

193 Solid Sam, the Eu Rami-Aueut. ByE. Wheeler.

124 Judge Lynch. n; nr. The Boy Vlgllante. By
1‘. C. thrhnugh. .

195 The Land Pirate” or. The League of Devil’s
inland. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

126 Iiille Blaze)” nr,The Bunk 0’ Day Boys 0! Rocky
Bar. By Frank Dunmnt.

127 Tony Fox the Ferret; or, [loss Bob‘s Buss Job. By
Edwnrd L. \i'haner.

128 Black Bean. Will Wlhlfire‘u RJI'J‘I’. liv C. Monig.

129 Eagle K“, the may Drnmn. By till ('runnen.

130 Gold Trigger, the Spurt. 113' T. (‘. llnrbnugh.

181 A Game of Gold: or, Demlwnod Dick's Big
Strike. BV Edward L. “'hevln-r.

182 Dnlnt Lance, the Buy Sport. RyJ.  swiger,J.-.

188 ‘Vild- re. the Bass ol the anl. liv Frnnlr Dxunont.

184 Mike Merry. the Harbor Pnlir-e'flny. nyc, hI-Irrls.

185 Deadwood Dick of Deadwood. By Elward
1.. Wheeler.

130 old Rube, the Hunt". 8y (‘1: t. Hmuiltnn Hnlmem

13'? gaudy Rock, the Man from sxna. By G. Waldn

YDWHB. .

1893 Bob Rot-ken. the env Dodger. fly (gm. M-vrrin.

139 The Blink Giant: nr, Dainty Lance mleopnrdy.

Ry erh E. Bridger. .lr.

n Arizona, the King Pin 01 Rl‘fl‘l'AgPJlll.

By ll S. “'nrnm

141, New 1 ark Nell,
15le L, Wheeler.

By Harry

the Boy-Girl Detetilve. By

 

142 Little Toxnefihe Young: Muslnnuer. liyOll Coomen.

143 Deadly Dumb: or, Fighting hire with Fire. By
Jan. E. Blillfll‘l', .lr.

144 Little am, the Wild Rlllrr;or, Bessle,illeSiock
Mum's Dung. m. ity m, l’n-ntier Ingmhmn.

145 The, Tiger oi‘Tnon; or. wild Kate, Dandy Rock’-
Angel. By Gm. Wulrln Hruwne.

146 The (‘nitlc King; or, t'urtinn’u Right Bower. By
Frank Dunmnl.

l4? Nobby Nit-k oi'NevxIdn: or, The Snmpl of tho
Sir-mm. lly Eliwnnl 1.. Wheeler.

148 Thunderbolt Tom; or, The WolHrlarder of the
Rockies. By Hurry St. George

149 Bob Rockett, the Bank Runner; or, The Road to
Ruin. By Chnrles Morris.

150 The Mad Miner; or,Dnndy Rock’l Doom.
G. “Waldo Browne.

151 The flea Trailer; Or, A Vow Well Kept. By
Col. Prentiss lngrnlmm.

152 Dund Dar : or, The Tl era of Hi h Pine. B
“'illhull ILEysar. ’ ' g' g y

153 “'ild Frank, the Buchle Brnvo. By Edward 1..
Wheeler.

3:

154 The Boy Trnllere- nr. Dninty Lance on the
Win-Path. By Joe. E. Sedger, Jr.

155 Gold Plume, the Boy Bandit; or, The Kid-Glove
Sport. y,Cul. Prentiss lngmlnun.

156 “'lll \Vildilre in the “'oodn. By C. Motrin.

157 Ned Temple, the Border Boy. By T. C. Hquh.

158 Deadwood Divk'n Doom. By E. L. VVheelel'.

159 Potent-Leather Joe’s Defent. By Philip. S.

“Vivi!-

160 Buffalo Billy, the Boy Bullwlmeker. ny Col. 1".

lnurnham.

161 Bob Roelreit. the Cracksmnn; or, Driv-n to the
Wall. By Uhnrleu Morris.

168 Little ilnrrionne, the Boy Cnpmin.
Coomeu.

163 Deadwood DloL’s Dream: or, The Riyals of
the Rand. By Edward L. Wheeler.

16-} '[l'orlmdo Tom: or, lnjun Jack {rum Red Cora.

By on

5y T. C. Hnrhnngh. . .

165 Buii'nlo Bill’s Bet; or,.The Gambler Guide.
Col. i’rentim lnzrahum.

166 Will Wildfire “In: and Loren.“ By Clmleu
Morris.

16‘? Dandy Roek‘n Pledge; ur, Hunted to Death.
liy Grunge \‘l'. Browne.

168 Dom] wood Dick’n “’nrd; or, The Black Him.
.luenel. By Edward L. Wheeler.

169 The Boy Cimmpiunpm Dutch iflermun o! the
Muskingum. Hy Edward Will-:tt. -»

liuckctt’n Fight. for Life. ByChlrlu

By

170 1101)
Morris

[1’1 Frank Morton, the Boy Hernulrs. By all Com",

1.72 The Yankee Ranger. By Edwin Emi‘rum.

178 Dirk Dilillo. Scnul; nr; The Frontirr Angvl. By
Edward S. Ellla. andy May 4.

174 Dandy Rock‘s Scheme; of, The Guldcn Hand.
By G. W. Hrnwnr. Ready May ll.

1‘25 The Krub Drtoeiive‘ nr.Snnnzer th» Bo Sh ..
By Edwnrd L. thlvr. handy Mn)’  y ' Mp

176 “'ill “'lldilre‘n Pluck; or. The Hidden gland.
By Chnrlrn Mnrrin. Ready lilny ‘25. -
leaned Every Wednesday.

Beadle‘n Pocket Library is i'nr “In by all Mum—'1"
drnlerr. five cenil per copy, or nut by mail on receipt'i Ila ',
cent! on h. , J
BEADLE 4% ADAMS. l'uhlhhern.

98 Wile Street, New 1 mil.

 

 

 

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