$2.50 Published Weekl b Beadle and Ada a
N0:  a Year. No. 98 WHEIAMYST" NEW YORK. m , £15,522“.  

 

M

DIRK MED TH] DHNOHED LAD INTO THE BOAT AS 118‘ BE HAD BEEN

 

 

The Street Arab Detective.

 

The Street Arab Detective;

., OB,
Dirk Dorgan’s Double-Dealing.

BY CHARLES MORRIS,

AUTHOR or “RALPH READY,” “ WILL WILD-
rmm,” “ BOB ROCKET,” are, ETC.

CHAPTER I.
A BIT or FUN THAT DIDN’T WORK.

THERE was agroup of boys on the sidewalk
of a retired street, ragged young vagabonds in
most part, who were laughing and jeering as if
they had come into some splendid piece of fun.
It was easy to see the source of their amuse-
ment. It consisted of two lads, who formed
the center of the ring into which they had
gathered.

One of these was a stout young vagrant with
a red head and narrow, foxy eyes, dressed in a
ragged, greasy suit that looked as if it had done
duty for two generations before him. The other
boy was taller, but of slighter build. He was
well and neatly dressed, and had a handsome,
aristocratic face. that made him look utterly out
oprlace in that jeering crew. "

n fact, he seemed nervously anxious to go
onward, from which he was hindered by the tor-
menting throng, who gathered around him like
crows around a stray star-ling.

“ Hold your bosses, little Pop-goesthe—Wea-
sell" cried the boy who confronted him. 7 “ Got
to guv an account 0' yersclf ’fore you kin pass
these headquarters. What did you do with
the nny I guv you yisterday to buy candy?”

T is gibe brought a roar of laughter from the
group of vagrants. '

The well-dressed boy looked keenly at his an-
tagonist, as if taking his measure. He then re-
marked in cold, clear accents:

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

“What say, he s?” asked the other. “ Shall
we let him go wit out the pastord?” V

“ No-no!” came the general cry.

“Y3: heméthatt,l Eoneggd You’ve got to show

our s u. an e no be t he’ at
ay skinned heel.” y pm p F g

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

on

“$1 tell you,” he exclaimed, “1 must goon.
I am on an errand, and can’t waste time here.
Get out of my way! This is a public street.”

" What willyou do, sonny, if I don’t absquat-
ulate’!” ‘

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

A roar of laughter-followed. .1

“ Lawseei how the little cock does crow!"
cried the young ruifian. “ Mavbe he's got fight
in him. See here. greeny, here’s my challon e.”

He gave the tonneth youth, who ad

 

 

grown suddenly pale, a fillip with his thumb on
a nose.

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

A loud cry arose from the ring of ragamuflins,
some of whom seemed ready to fall ‘on the pale
youth, who stood, heavily breathlng, but un-
daunted, in their midst.

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

They were crowding in with threatening looks,
when one of them, a short, stout boy, the rag-
gedest of the lot, sprung between them and their
Victim.

“ Git back!” he ejaculated. “Jimmy g5"
served out right. If there’s goin’ to be a mill
it’s got to be a square one! If one of you
touches this humbly-bee I’ll bu’st his snout." .

He looked as if he meant it, and the ring
moved back before his threatening aspect. 0

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

old.

By this time the prostrate Jimmy had scram-
bled to his feet again, and was approaching his
antagonist with a furious face.

“ Shoot yer ugly pictur’, you tuk me foul i” he
shouted. “ I’m goin‘ to curry you down now,
my laddy. Square yerself l"

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

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

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

Again they met, and again. after a short
sparring, the smaller boy Went dowu.

“ How do you like that, country?” crowed
Jimmy. “Told you I was goin’ to curry you.
Get enough, hey, rooster?” '

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

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

“ Bully fer you i” cried the boy who had
warned back the weird: “Blame me if you
ain’t got pluck! Go in, little one! Go in, Jim-
1:in P, Pelt away, game-cocks! I‘ll see fair

015’
p A third round. and down went the fair youth
again. But this time he got in one or two sharp
stingers on Jimmy’s face, that brought red
spots to that young man’s countenance. r

Up came the lad again, with unassisted 00111”

a
D'

 

 

 

 

 

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The Street Arab Detective.

3

 

age. But he was becomingnsorry spectacle.
Covered with dust from head to foot, his cafi
gone his hair flying, his face disfigured wit
bl and dust, he had utterly lost his neat,
spruce aspect. But he seemed one of the kind
that have more fight in them the more they are
whipped, and his eyes flashed fire as he again
confronted hisantagonist.

Quiet as the street was where this ’afi'ray had
taken place, several persons had now gathered
about them. Among these was one gentleman-
ly person, well—dressed. and with a sharp, busi-
ness-like face, who stopped and looked keenly at
the combatants. Aery of surprise and indig-
nation came from his lips

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

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

“Excuse me, Mr. Wilson. I did not start
this. He struck me first. I am not going to
be insulted by a bound like this if you do dis-
charge me from your serv1ce. [am going to
whip the rufiian, sir, and I hope you’l let me
fi ht it out.”

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

“Go ahead then, you uarrelsome young
rogue," he exclaimed. “ on can have your
light out, and then I’ll have it out with you
afterward. It’s your turn now. When you’re
done I‘ll take my turn.”

There was a threatening tone in his voice
that did not promise a favorable verdict to
Will. But his blood was up now, and he was
ready to sacrifice ten situations for revenge.
He turned again to his antagonist, who had
been liste 'ng eagerly to this conversation.
One would have thought that he did not quite
,relish the job he had worked-up, and would
have liked to be relieved.

“Come on,” cried Will, with hitter energy.
“ 1 am not whipped yet.”

With a. slight Show of reluctance, Jimmy
advanced. It is n t always so pleasant to fight
with those sprin -steel chaps that won't stay
whipped, and OM; know when they have
enough.

In a moment more the two antagonists were
at it again, sharply sparring.

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

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

“ None of that!” he cried, springing forward.
“ You’re twice his weight now. This has got to
be a Hagar. fight. You ought to be ashamed of
{W for a big blowhard to want to use your

 

In a minute Will was on his feet again, and at
his foe. He had recaived enough punishment to
satisfy any ordinary boy, but he seemed to
gather strength and spirit with each knock-

own.

Instead of growing wilder asthe fight went on
he grew more cool and wary. He avoided the
blows of his foe, and got in his own with quick
decision. Jimmy, on the other hand, was grow-
ing furious at the unexpected staying-power of
his antagonist. He rushed forward, striking
heavily and wildly with both fists, and seekingto
beat down Will’s defenses. Suddenly a keen
punisher fell on his temple that considerably
amazed him. He staggered hack a step, and
then sat down on the cobble—stones of the street.

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

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

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

“Have ou got enough?” asked Will, disdain-
fully. “ re you ready to ackn0wledge that

on are a coward and bully, that picks out little
ys to practice on?”
‘ No, blast you i" roared the young gamin,
springing hotly forward.

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

He partied the heavy blows that were dealt
at him, and dropped his right fist between
J immy’s eyes, a s uare knock-doWn blow.

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

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

The he) s Shrunk back, as if they did not like
Will’s style of fighting. '

.But the young gutter—snipe that had declared
for fair plu y stepped forward.

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

ou’ve done your share. And you’rea young
oss, clear through. I’ll lick the boy as says
you ain’t. "I like you, bully !”

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

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

Will looked quickly up, but said nothing.
He turned away with 10wered head. The fever
of the fight was over, and he began to think
seriously of the consequences.

» Mr. Wilson paused to speak for a moment to
Will's ragged backer, and then walked of! in
the oppon direction.

" w r . 2"~'- 

“1‘

, be easy to fool the old coon.”

- his face, but the latter bore unmistakable marks

, for a‘moment, while poor Will seemed ready to

'in like edid. Of course, I know I have dis-

' player of you. You would make a good cham-

4m . The Street Arab Detective. M

 

CHAPTER II.
A MYSTERY IN THE WIND.

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

“ 1 see no other way left," said Mr. Wilson,
decidedly. “ The fact is, old Dirk is as sharp
as a razor, and our last move was a mistake.
We have put ‘him on his guard, and it will not

He has never seen

“ We might tr Clarence.
“ But I fear he is

him,” suggested ‘ r. Brown.
not shrewd enough.”

Mr. Wilson shook his head decidedly.

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

‘9, on don’t know the rogue like I do, or you
might change your mind,” returned Mr. Wilson.
“Let any stranger try to scrape acquaintance
with the old fellow, and he will be on his guard
at once. He is as suspicious as a rat, and he
knows very well that there is something in the
wind. We must throw him off his guard, and I
see on] one way."

“I on’t know.” said Mr. Brown, doubtfully.
“ The savage old pirate would choke 9. sp{
with as little conscience as he would a cat.
am not willing to expose the boy to such dan-

“ Oh! he is shar enough. And he is as brave
as a young lion. here is no give-up in him. I
had proof of that yesterday, and this idea flashed
at once into my head."

“Hushl Here he comes.”

The door of the office was opened the next in-
stant, and Will Worth walked into the room.
He was clean and sprucely dressed as usual.
All traces of the fray had been brushed from
his clothes, and washed. as far as possible, from

of a hard battle. One eye was swollen and dis-
colo ed, his upper lip was puflled out, and sew
eral strips ,of sticking-plaster covered various
cuts on is face. Altogether Will’s handsome
Emantenanee had lost much of its beauty in the
g t. .
And he seemed dreadfully downcast. He hurt:
his head with a look of shame, as he stood before
his employers. in whose faces he saw only cold
displeasure. They sat looking at him in silence

sink through the floor. ~»

. “ Well, sir, I hope you feel better this morn-
in ,” remarked Mr. Wilson, in tones that seemed
to ill coldly scornful. “ You had your fun
mterday. It is, 5.31 told you then, our turn

a .' ,

“ ers, sir,” answered Will, sadly but firmly.
“ I amisorry, Mr. Wilson, but if I had it to do
over I am afraid that I would have to whip
that be again. I can’t stand having it rubbed

graced myself." . .4
“ Oh, you do? You acknowledge that? That’s

 

 

pion, Will; but that’s not what we hired you

or.

“ I know that,” replied Will, lifting. his head
with a proud fling, and throwing off his shame-
faced look. “I am very sorry, Mr. Wilson.
But there are some things that can’t he helped.
1 think you will find everything right. I
did every errand yesterday but that one to
Croll & Dawson, and I sent one of my friends
to do that. That’s all. You'll find my book
correct. There‘s a week’s wages due me, but I
don’t care for that. Here’s my key.”

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

irise.
! “ Hold, there i" cried Mr. Brown, hastily.
“What do you mean? Where are you gomg?”

“I don’t know. I am ton old to sell news-
papers, andl dOn’t suppose I can get another
situation. You have been very good to me, but
I cannot ask you for a recommendation. after
my behavior. But I guess l’ll get something to
do. Good-by, sirsl"

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

“ See here, little touch-and-go," he exclaimed,
“just suppose you give us a chance to get a
word in edgewa s before you go off like a shot
from a shovel. fancy nobody has discharfed

on yet. I certainly have not. Have you, ir

rown?"

“ N at that I know of.”

“Do you hear that? We haven't discharged
you: so you must be discharging us. What have
we done that you are not‘ satisfied with?”

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

‘But,” he stommered.
have been very kind to me.
my turn yesterday, and you would have yours
to-dey. I know what that meaps. I didn’t
want to give you the trouble to discharge me.”

“ Why, you proud little monkey, so you won’t
be whipped, and you won’t discharged! You
are bound to take the whip in your own hands,
are youil See here, Will; you’ve had your say.
Now, listen to me awhile. To begin With, take
this key again." _ -

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

“ Now go back to your work. As longas
you continue to do as wellas grin have always
done you needn’t be afraid of .mg your posi-
tion. From this week your salary Will be in-
creased one dollar per week.”

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

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

“Yes, _ou can, and on shall. You are a
brave litt e fellow, and t at is worth something.
If you had let that boy whip you yesterday, I
would have cut down your wages adollar a
week. As you had the pluck to go on and whip

“But—J know ou

\

But you said I ad ~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

wax-u ‘

 

 

 

‘M.

 

Alfie Street Arab Detective. -\ '5

the youn bull , I am ing to give you the
extra do] or. like plucio, my boy. Now go to
your work.” >

Will continued to look at his employers with
staring eyes, as if he could not quite believe in
this unexpected turn of fortune. Finally he let
(all his on and key, and sprung eagerly forward,
gras iing r. Wilson’s hand.

“6h, sir!" he gratefully exclaimed, “I will
never forget “your kindness. And yours, too,
Mr. Brown. .ou are both far kinder to me
than I deserve. I expectI would have gone to
ruin it you had thrown me on the street, for
you know I have no home. But only give me
a chance and I will make myself a man. I
know I have the stuff in me, if I only get the
chance.”

“ That you shall have i” answered hisemployers
in a breath. “ Go on as you have done, and
never take an insult from a street va ahead.”

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

“Certainly, Will. You can have the rest of
the week. But you will not have to 0 on the
street again soon. We have some at er work
cut out for you which will need all youri telli—
gence and courage. If you do it successfu y, it
will makea man of you at once. If you fail,
you will be no worse off than at resent.”

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

“Never mind now. You will soon learn. But
it will take you away from the‘ city and into
new and rough scenes for aperiod. You will
need all your wits and all your bravery. There,
that will do for the present. Go home now, and
try to get your face into shape. Come here to-
morrow at this hour, and we will let you know
what on are to do." .

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

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

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

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

“ It is y0u, is it?" he exclaimed. “ I am glad
to see you again. You‘re a square boyii you
do have a ragged coat, and it I ever catch any-

 

body crowing over you just count me in. My
name is Will Worth—what’s yours?" '
T“Toi1y Thorne. The boys call me Thorny

on .

“ ot a bad name,” answered Will. “You’d
do prime. if you had a clean face and decent
clothes. This is Wilson & Brown’s store. What
do you want?” -

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

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

“ This is the store. You will find Mr. “Tilson
in the office now.”

Will turned away deeply perplexad, while
Tony entered the store with an independent
step. i ,
The merchants were still in their private
ofiicc engaged in conversation, when the door
was opened without the ceremony of knocking,
and Tony Thorne walked with an easy air into
the room.

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

The merchants checked their conversation,
and looked in surprise at the unsavory vis-
itor.

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

"Jist so. Dunno what you want with me,
but my time ain’t much took up, so I thought
I'd lnddle up this way."

“ You go in for fair play in a fight, I see,”
retriarked Mr. Wilson, looking at him curi-
ous . > ».

“ You bet I dol. I’d licked that whole crawd
’fore I’d let ’em heap on that plucky little feller.
That’s my style.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ Don’t calk’late I will,” answered Tony easi- -
ly. “Tell you what, that’s just thekin of a

 

 

 

 

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t5
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6 The Street Arab Detective.

 

job I’m out out for, it it’s honest, and this is the
fu’st time it ever turned up. I’ll jist snatch on
to it like a monkey would snatch a peanut. Peg
it out. I’m on hand.”

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

CHAPTER III.
A RUN ACROSS THE JERSEYS.

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

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

“ Why don’t you arrest this man, and make
him tell before the court?” queried Will.

“ There is an old proverb, my boy, that you
can bring a horse up to the rack, but you can’t
make him eat,” anwerod Mr. Wilson, with a
laugh. “ It is that way with Dirk Dorgan. If
he don’t choose to speak he won’t speak for all
the courts in the land. If we want the truth we
must cheat it out of him. Nobody can squeeze
it out of him.”

“Jist you bet we're the larks as ’11 do that,”
returned Tony Thorns, with a look of assurance.
(‘1‘ W’e’re a—goin’ to be saddled by no old water-

og.

“ Don’t be too confident,” warned the mer-
chant. “ If you make a false move he will see
through you as easy as you would see through a.

ane of glass. And now good-by, and good luck.
or is the train."

. 9y were soon rolling over the broad level
of New Jersey in a fast-flying train, through
desolate reaches of pine forest, and over broad
stretches of barren sands, toward the distant
coast, and the far—off, tumbling ocean.

_As they proceed on their journey we must
give a little closer attention to the two boys, for

ey are considerably changed since we last
made their acquaintance.

Will Worth has chan ed his quiet business
suit, for a tasty, fashiona le rig, that gives him
something of the aspect of a young dandv. He
wears a rather loud cravat, with a diamond

In, and a diamond ring flashes on his finger.

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

Thorny Tony is equally transformed. His
face is as clean as if it had been scrubbed with

 

, ,a rollingpin, and his rags have been replaced

with a neat, well-made suit, of plain, but ser-
Viceable material. He sports no jewelry like
Will and there has been no effort tomake a
gentleman of him. That would have been im-
ible. He looks rather like a poor boy, who

as been cared for by careful parents.
“My, wouldn’t the fellows stare, if they seen

 

me nowl” laughed Tony, as he looked at himself
with reat satisfaction. _ . _

Wi 1 could but enjoy the new pride of his com-
panion. .

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

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

“I hope they will leave me alone then. I
don't want to fight. But what if they come
crowding on me?"

“Oh! you leave that to me. I’ll scrub ’em.
There’s nothin’ I like better not a good rough-
and-tumble.” I '

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

Tony looked at him in momentary surprise,
and than burst into a loud laugh.

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

Will echoed Tony’s laugh.

“ It you try it on I’ll serve you out as I did
Jimmy Jones," he answered. “ 1 am bound to
stand up for the rights of the aristocracy.”

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

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

“ You ought to see my dadl” exclaimed Tony.
“ Tell you what, he’s a boss. “ He’s terrible big,
and stron as a buffalo. Why, he used to hold
me straig t 0;; with “on? gun?, asgd spank me
with t’other. cou nt esap . ‘

” Don’t be woyrld” asked Will, thinking of

n ’s disre utable a earance. "

Tq‘ Sires; whim he caangit no whisky. He’s too
fond of his hitters, that’s the trouble.”

“ I hope you don’t touch it!” . .

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

“ I have none,” answered Will, sadly. “I
have neither father nor mother; never had.”

“ Never had! Whewl That’s a larkl”

“Never to know, I mean. They were both

/

..~,~»w.smmw.wm-_ ., 



 

 

 

, Ha... “MWWW W...  A...

 

 

 

The Street Arab Detective. 7

 

(lead before I knew anything. I don’t know
any more about them than for their names;
they were poor people, and I was knocked about
when I was young.

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

“ The first I remember,” answered Will,
thoughtfully, “ I was living with an old woman
away down—t0wn. Old Mother Luke, the folks
used to call her. I was a tiny little tot then——
not much bigger than a horse-chestnut. But she
made me 6V0 out and beg for cold scraps with a
basket. hen I got bigger I had to learn to
play the fiddle, and go out and play for pennies.”

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

“ Oh, yes—a little. But it wasn’t so very nice,
for the old woman used to beat me dreadfully if
I didn’t brin enough in.”

“ She did?’ exclaimed Tony, his eyes snap-

ing. “And she wasn t your mother, neither?
I’d never stood that, nohow. I’d run away."

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

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

“ All sorts of things. I sle t anywhere that
I could get a. chance to snug e, and I eat any-
thing, and did all kinds 0 jobs. Sometimes,
when I got very bad off, I played the fiddle,
and that always paid, for they called me a good
pla er.”

“ Why didn’t you stick to it, then?"

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

“. But you cOuld have gone into the country,
or to some other town."

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

Tony looked at his companion with some ad-
miration. .

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

Will shook his head doubtfully.

“ There’s two kinds of lives, Tony: one for
sport. and ane for duty. The last 18 my kind
and I think it pays best in the long run. But I
may as well finish. I grew up, as I said, in all
sorts of ways. I tried everything, holding horses
blocking shoes, and sellin papers. I’ve had
peanut stands and apple has ets. Then I carried
for a market—man for a good while. He .took
me in his family after a while, and I’m livmg
with him now."

“ Good for him! What’s his name!”

“ Adam S srks. He has a huckster stand in
Spring Go. on Market. He was ever so good
to me, he and his'wifs. I had to work hard,

' pm...

 

but they sent me to night—school, and gave me
an education.”

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

“ Oh, no! I got that position myself. I
thought it was time I was learning somethin
better than carrying a market~basket. So
looked around for a place, and got one. I’ve
been there now for near three years.”

“ Do you like it?”

“ I guess 1 do! They are ever so kind. And
I don’t mind the work one bit.”

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

Will shook his head with a knowin ' smile.

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

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

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

“There's no use bein’ sorry fur that kind,”
declared Tony. “ You can’t help them. They‘re
palt help. They’d only be miserable it you
put ’em in a palace. Let ’em alone and they’re
happy. I know it, ’cause I’ve been as help y as
a king with a rugged coat and a. crust poked
out o the gutter; and I’m half miserable now
in this decent rig, and a pocketful of cash.” .

Will looked at his odd companion as one
might look at some new species of animal. He
hard! knew what to make of him.

“ hat’s that queer smell in the air?" he at
length asked. “It smells just like a heap of
oysters." ’

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

‘ es.

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

’Wili was silent, with his eyes fixed with
strange sensations on the distant liquid line.
That was the ocean—the mighty, the and!
His heart swelled with new emotionsas he ooked
upon it, and the great earth seemed to w
ten fold greater, att is first vision of the '
seas.

\

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

93-1-3 cm... as a}... gang, g.

 

 

S The Street Arab Detective.

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

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

“l’m goin’ to take that empty seat. Don’t

, ii): look cross-ways at me, for I’m down on

' tocrats.”

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

Five minutes after, the train rolled into the
station at the seaside village oi! Micmac, and
came slowly to a dead halt. ‘

CHAPTER IV.
A BOY’S BOLD CHALLENGE.

Tan Seaside House was the principal hotel of
Micmac. The little town had long vegetated
as a fishing village, but since the annual run of
summer visitors tothe seashore it had got its
grand hotel, and its rows of boarding cottages,

or the accommodation of the pleasure-seekers

 

V from the cities.

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

The two boys had separate on reaching the
town. Will had taken a room at the hotel,
where he played the part of a young gentleman
of wealth and leisure. It was late in the season,
and most of the guests had departed, but some
yet remained, taking advantage of the pleasant
Se tember weather.

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

Tony had taken the role of a poor boy, that
had to work for his livingI and he at once
began to assist old Jake in his summer business
of taking out fishing-parties of visitors. The
harmn-scarum boy was delighted with this
vacation, and took hold of it in a way that
charmed the old Waterman.

“ Blame my eyes,” he growled to one of his

associates, “if the boy ain’t got a peck 0’ brains,

in his headpan. It’s my poor sister Lizy’s
son, Joe, as pegged out last June. The lad’s
city born. but he’s got grit. Thought I’d have
my hands full; but, Lord! he’ll be a. help in-
stead of a bother.”

Will, on the other hand. assumed a very dif-
ferent‘ role. He was down for sport, not for

 

 

work, and put on a multitude of airs as he
lounged about, switching his tasty cane, with Its
ivory dog‘s-head, and making rapid acquaint-
ance with the young gentlemen and ladies of
the place. He had provided himself with a
pair of eye-glasses, which he wore in a dandified
fashion that completed his air of a dude. Folks
looked at him with secret smiles, as they saw the
young swell proudly strutting around.

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

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

“ I hope there’s no dan er of getting sea-
sick,” he said, playing care essly with his cane.
“ I am not used to the salt water. you know."

“ It's as quiet as a baby on the inlet," answer-
ed the fisherman addressed. “And I‘ve got the
stunchest boat on the island. Don’t you have a
ghost of a fear. What’s more, I allers take a
chunk of salt pork along, to cure them as is
squeamish.”

“ Salt pork! 0h, mercy l” exclaimed Will, “ I
never could abide salt pork l” .

“ Guv the babby some melasses tafl’yl" growl-
ed another man who was standing alongside, in
a voice like the grumble of a nor’wester. “ And
swipe him down with a hunk of oakum. Blow
me for a pirate, if I wouldn’t like to make a
spread-eagle of the little chin doll!" '

He walked away with a 100 of utter disgust.
Will gazed at him. He was a short, squat fig-
ure, with a great width of shoulder. and was
dressed in a suit of dreadnaught, well covered
with oil and fish-scales. .

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

“ Who is this complimentary gentleman?” ask-
ed Will, in a tone loud enough to reach the ears
of the rude Waterman. “ 1 am not aware that!
asked him any questions.” .

“ Hush i” warned the fisherman. m a cautious
tone. “ That's Dirk Dorgan. You’d best keep
clear of him, my young sprout. Just shut your
ears when Dirk‘s about, if you want to keep out
of trouble." -

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

I This defiant speech reached the ears for which
It. was Intanded. Dirk turned quickly back,
With a. flashing eye and lowering countenance.

“ Do you know who you are talkin’ to, Hop-o’-

. m ma...

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The Street Arab Detective. 9

 

my-thumbi” he asked, in a tone of suppressed
thunder. “ You young jackanapes, do you think
to come down ere and lord it over old salts
that’s weathered more gales than you’ve got dol-
larsi Shoot yer puny picture, if you come buz-
zin’ round me I’ll take you up between my fin—
ger and thumb, and make you sing wuss than a
swamp musketeer.”

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

ow do you sell ground around here—by
the square foot?” asked Will, with provoking
ease. “I should judge, by the way you lord it,
that you own the whole country. Every cook
can crow on his own dunghill, they say, and I’d
like to buy enough from you to make mea dung-
hill to crow on.”

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

re 9.

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

He extended his hand and grasped Will’s
collar with a firm grip. The boy made no ef-
fort to escape, and not a shade o dread passed
over his countenance as he continued to face his
burly opponent.

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

“ What do you mean?” cried Dirk, loosing his
hold in astonishment at the boy’s unflinching
boldness. “ Is the little city canary-bird trying
to threaten mei Blast me, if that ain’t a joke 1”
He laughed With a sound like the sawing of
timber. “ Come, you want to go out a-fishiug.
Step into my boat; 1’]! give you a lesson in the
my???“ ” ed Will

in your man, answer rem t1 .
“ Fetch out your boat.” p p y
f‘ You’ll go with me?" queried Dirk, in sur-

prise.

“You bet I will. I’m only a boy, but when I

safia thin , there’s no back-down in me.” .

irk loo ed him over from head to foot, With
a curious gaze. He then turned away with a
low whistle of surprise.

“Stick to it, my game-cock!” he growled.
“ You’ve guv yer word, and go you shall.”

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

Dirk seemed on the point of returning some
angry retort. But a change passed over his
faoeéladnd he turned and walked away without
8 W

 

, ing?"

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

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

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

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

“ But you don’t know this man, you foolish
little chap. He’s a terror, I tell you, and I
haven’t seen him in such a rage for a year.
Dirk’s an old, wrecker and irate, they say.
He’s e no] to flinging you over card and towing
you as ore at the stern of his boat.”

“ I’ll take the chances,” answered Will, switch-
in his leg easily with his flexible cane. “I’m
on y a boy, and ain’t expected to know much.
But I’ve always heard that the way to tame a.
tiger is to keep your eye on it, and show no
weak blood. I’m going to play that ame with
this tiger, and I wager that I bring im back
tame." ,

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

ho .

While the continued to converse Dirk’s boat
came aroun a bend of the river, moving on-
ward rapidly under his long, sinewy stroke.
The water curled in foam before it as it came
dashing on.

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

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

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

At this moment two other persons walked I319
to the group. One of these was a wrink ,
grizzled old waterman, who looked as it the
storms of seventy winters had blown upon his
countenance. The other was a boy of about
Will’s age, a short stout, open-faced youth,
dressed in the rough habiliments of a fisherman.

It was Jake Dumps and his new nephew,
transformed already into a son of the sea in ap-
pearance. The two boys looked at each other. -
without a sign of recognition in their eyes.
Tony cast a disdainful lance over Will’s tasty
flannel suit. and then flicked down with satis-
faction at his oquough but serviceable dress.

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

“ You’re a well-built sort of a chap,” r9
marked Will, carelessly. “ Do you so out boat-

 

 

 

 

 

to / The Street Arab Detective.

 

“ You bet. Boatin’, gunnin’, fishin', anything
you went." ,

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

He pointed to Dirk, who had walked up,
after landing his boat. ‘

“ Hired me, boy!” he harshly asked. '

“Yes. I expectto pay for my sport. Are
you ready l"

“All ready. Step in. If you don’t like the
sport, you needn’t pay for it.’

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

Dirk followed him with a queer look on his
bronzed features. A few strokes of the cars,
and the boat darted out into the river and head-
ed for the sea.

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

After a few minutes the group broke up, Tony
and his newrfound uncle taking boat, and row-
ing out into the stream.

CHAPTER V.
WILL PUTS HIS HEAD IN THE LION’s MOUTH.

THE two boats moved down the river at no

t distance apart, that containing I‘horny
any and his ready-made uncle in the rear of
that which held Will and Dirk.

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

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

tered.

Under his strong strokes the boat shot rapid~
1y forward, soon leaving the river and darting
out into the open sea. Here a fresh wind met
them, that seemed strengthening every minute.

V The surf broke heavil over the bar that lay ofl
the river’s mouth, an filled the air with that
monotonous voice of the ocean, that never ceases
to moan and roar.

They turned u the coast. throu h the quiet
water inside the ar, where the wild roll outside
was turned into an uneasy heave.

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

“ I reckon I won’t tr it on then,” Will leas-
antly answered from h 5 seat at the tiller. ‘I’ve
no notion of spoiling my sport by any such non-
sense." ;

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

Jake’s boat rowed slowly on into the mouth
of the inlet. The old fisherman shook his griz-

 

   

 

zled head, as he twisted around on his seatto
gaze forward.

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

“ I guess he won’t eat nobody alive without
salt,” returned Ton y. “The little swell ain’t no
slouch, you kin see that in his eyes. Who is
this terror, as is got all the folks hereaways on
their knees afore him? Hope he don't take no
bite at me. I bet you, if he does, that I’ll lay
grossyays in his throat. Jist peg out all about

no.

“ ’Tain’t much anybody knows,” answered the
old man, as he continued to ply his oars. “ He's
been livin’ on this coast nigh on to twenty year,
and he ain’t made a friend in all that time. And
’bout his bizness, there ain’t an oyster keeps his
shells shet tighter.” .

“But you know something ’bout him," per-
sisted Tony. “ He talks a good deal. Why,
I’ve had some chats with him myself. Nobody
can’t talk fur twenty year without lettiu' some-
thin’ out.”

“Precious little. His old life is bugged up
and laid ‘away somewhere out of sight. How-
somedever, there’s some p’ints as folks think
they know. Some on ’um says as Dirk
wasareg’lar pirate in his young days. But,
that is all blather. Nobody knows naught ’bout
it. There's others says as he was a wrecker,
and has lured more nor one ship ashore with
false lights. So far’s I’m consumed, I never
as 5 what I don’t know.”

‘A wrecker?” repeated Tony, thoughtfully.
“ Is that since he came on this coast?"

“ Why he’s blamed for the barque, Emma, as
come ashore on the island's sands ’bouL seventeen
years ago. I won’t say w’ot’s in it. ’cause I
don’t know. There was only one man come
ashore alive, and he told a queer story ’bout
false lights. There was suspicion ’bout Dirk,
but nobody couldn’t nail it on him."

“ Only one man?” echoed Tony

“And' a ban . Ho brung a baby ashore,
alive. But it isapneared while he was in a
swoon. Where it went to the Lord knows.
Only Dirk hisself was out o’ sight fur two weeks

r 1‘.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Tony, greatly interested.
“And hasn’t nothin’ turned up’bout that there
baby since?”

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

_ He rowed on silently for several minutes. seem-
ingly lost in deep reflection. He then continued
his remarks, as if Communing with himself.

“There’s been folks down here a many a
time since then, nokiii’ ’round ’bout that baby.
And more nor one’s tried to play sharp on Dick.
But ’tweren’t never no use. You mought as
well try tosqueem honey outer an oak tree as

Messiaen/wai-um. m...“

 

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V -"l‘ho Strert Arab Detective. 11'

 

make him sell his secrets. ’Tain’t three months
since a gentleman from the city was down, as
had a fearful quarrel with Dirk. I know it,
for I happened to catch a few words. The
ruflian hufled him, and told him to his face
that he had the squeeze on him, and was goin’ to
keep it. He’s an awful man, I tell you, and I
hope that little ninuy won’t git inter trouble
by stirrin’ him up. I’d jist as soon n ake up a
homels’ nest with a pine switch. Guess we’d
best fling in our lines here for a try, Tony.
Ther's promise 0’ fish.”

“ Best row on to where we nipped am so neat
yesterday," answered Tony. “ I’ve a whim
they’ll bite spi‘yer there.”

“'l‘her’ it is ag’in. The boys is wiser than
their granddaddies. All right. I’lllet you see
yvhonknows best, the old rooster or the young
un. _

He rowed on, with a im smile of sarcasm.

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

“Best not stay too late. There’s an ugly
cloud rising in the eastern offing. There’ll be a
fresh gale by night, and the Surf’s rolling
heavy. ' You may find trouble in making the
river.”

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

The other rowed on, a little angry at the un-
gracious reception of his welluneunt warning.

Shortly after they reached the desired fishing-
grounds and ot in their lines, The fish seemed
plentiful and it readily, and it was not long ere
they began to show some results of their sport
in the scaly prey that lined the bottom of the

cat.

“This is fine 5 ort,” said Will, gayly, as he

took a large fish rom his hook and rebaitod it.

“ I never saw better fishing.”

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

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

There was a secret meaning in his tone that

, made Will look up quickly into his dark face.

\He saw there only a sarcastic smile of threaten-
in aspect. though it reVeuled nothing.

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

“ They bite wellin stormy weather,” remark-
ed Dirk.

“ W but do you call these fish I”

“ Well, the most on lens is weakflsh. That
chap over there is a sea-trout, and this little fel-
low is a bass.”

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

” It’s a sheepsheadl” exclaimed Dirk, with
some enthusiasm, as he grasped the flapping fish.

 

“ Well done, boy. That’s one of the gentleman '
fish of the waters. It’s a wonder you fancy
sports would ever be satisfied with less.”

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

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

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

The afternoon was now moving rapidly on
toward night. The sun was well d0wn in the
west, and as it sunk the wind strengthened. It
rufl‘led the water before it, and struck with
a snivering chill upon the bodies of the fisher-
men.

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

“ Guess mebbe we had." Dirk seized the oats,
and began to row onward.

“ But you are going in the wrong direction.” V

“R'eckon not. You’re down here to l’urn
somethin’. Guess I’ll take you in hand, and guv
you a lesson.”

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

“0h, nothin' much. Let me tell you one
thing, though. When you want to play the lit-
tle game 0’ puttin’ your head in theliou’s month,
you oughtn’t to stir up the lion first.”

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

“Oh, 1101 I wouldn’t scrape a hair 0’ yer
innercent head. But I’m afeard my boat ain’t
’ristocratic enough for a nice gentleman like yer
lordship. I won’t ax you to stay in it." ,

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

“How the little cock does crow,” returned
Dirk, with pretended admiration. “ I’m ralely
afeard to keep on aboard. My boat’s too
crank fur sich a 'ver crower. But hurt you?
Mercy, no! Not fur the world." ,

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

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

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

“ I ain’t been sorry fur anything fur such a.
time, that I won’t mind tryin’ it on. Guess it’ll
feel good. Come. now, my little spark. Git—-
skipl Ashore with you, atore I pitch you out
like a bale 0’ cotton.” »

He rose and stepped toward Will, extending , '

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

18. The Street Arab Detective.

 

his brawny arms. It was Very evident that the
slightrbuilt boy would be like a feather in his

ras .

g “fiands off!” cried Will, haughtily. “ Don't
pollute me with your touchl You are the
stronger, and I must submit. But a hornet can
sting an elephant. Beware. Dirk Dorganl I
will have revenge for this outrage.”

He 8 rung ashore as he spoke.

"Alfright, my oovol 1 hope some boat will
be along to take you up. But l’m sadly afeard
you will have to keep company With the mo-
skeeters all night. You kin spend your time
l‘ai-nin’ how to keep your tongue out 0‘ older
folks’ pies. Good-night and happy dreams.”

He pushed off, with a mockinalzmgh, and
rowed resolutely away, leaving 'ill solitai'
and disconsolate on the shore of the little islaii ,
whose highest spot rose scarce a foot above the
high-tide mark of the sea.

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

 

CHAPTER VL

A. DROWNEDDUT ISLAND.

' TH! sun touched with its lower edge the west-
ern horizon, and shot its level rays in a last
glance over the sandy plains. There was some-
~hing lurid and angry in its light, and in the
ashy overhanging clouds, whose edges were lit
with a sulphury tinge.

The wind moaned through the desolate pines
that bent their limbs away from the ocean as if
in fear. From far across the waters the wind
rushed and whistled, heaping up the waves be-
fore it, and causing the surf to break with a hoi-
low ronr on the beach.

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

A roup of Waterman stood on the beach of
theo d .mwn, looking out to sea, and earnestly
conversing.

‘F. It’ll be sioh a tide as we ain’t had since ’63.”
remarked one. “ It’s a’ready a foot ’bove its
highest mark, and it’s got a foot more 0‘ raise
in it.

“ And the surf’s tremendous," replied another.
“ It’s a marcy if the bath-house t’other side the
river don’t go by the board. I’ve allers said
’ they was built risky. The old ocean thought he
a baby to play with when it’s in a nod humor.
But it’s a terror when it gits its ma up.”

“ There‘il be wrecks store the night’s over,”
rejoined the first speaker. “ There’s allers some
' V fool of a skipper to hug the shore in a nor’easter;
and down he goes to Davy Jones in a whiff.”

“ Who’s that comin’? I thought the boats
was all in.”

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

“ hut he’s alone. Where’s the boy hestuk

out
I “ By the saints, he's gone and done the lads

 

 

harm arter all! If he has, boys, it’s our duty
to call him to quarters.”

Lowering looks came upon the face of the
watermen as their eyes watched the approach-
ing boat. The were so in dread of Dirk‘l furiv
ous temper an giant strength that they natur-
ally shruiik from an encounter with him. But
this might be a serious matter that would render
some decided action necessary.

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

“What have you done with the boy!” asked
one of them.

“ Left the imperdeiit little rat to cool his heels
till niornin',” nnsvvered Dirk, as be secured the
boat. “ The chatty young lap~dog kin use his
long tongue to skcer oil’ the moskeeters, as are
like% to guv him lively quarters for the night.”

“ here is he,I say?” demanded the other,
boldly. “Look out for yourself if any harm
comes to him.”

“ All right, duck ,” returned Dirk, insolently.
“ He’s on Pigmy Is and. Guess that’s big enough
to hold a rooster 0’ his size.”

“ Pigmy Island 1" was the hasty reply. “ You
can’t mean it! Look at the tide, maul It’s a
foot above its level a’ready, and the island’s
under water by now. It’ll raise a foot yet, and
sweep the boy off into the seas.”

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

“This will not do, Dirk Dor an I” returned
one of the most resolute of the shorinen. “ If
you know when ou’i'e well 03 you’llgo back
after the lad. e ma stand your airs; but
we won’t stand murder .”

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

“ You know where he is. Go fur him yerself
if ye want him,” he surlin replied. “I prom~
ised the dirty little ’ristocrat a warmer and he’s
got it. Let him drown. He kicked up the
wrong cow when he tried city slack on Dirk
Dorgan.”

The fishermen ave way before him as he-

walked resolutely orward. They were not quite
ready for a personal encounter with him. .

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

“We’d beside in the murder if we let the
boy stay there,” cried one of them. “ Give
way, Joe. It’s goin’ to be a Wild night; but it’s
an errand of marcy.f’

They beat to their cars, and the boat shot
swiftly across the milled waters toward where
the surf broke savagely over the bar.

It was nearly two hours afterward‘when the
boat reached the iocalit of the lonely island on
which Will had been 16 t to spend the hi ht.

The darkness had long since deacon ed, and
lay heavily on sea and shore, blending them to-
gether into one broad, even blackness. The

 

... .. «m....r-....-...........w~mr. .. . . .  . .

 

i
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The Street Arab Detective, ‘ 18‘

 

wind came by in fierce, fltful pufls. Driving
clouds fled in a wild race over the sky, now for
a. few minutes permitting the moon to shed its
light on the troubled waters, now shrouding it
in E ptisn darkness.

“ here in the blazes is the island, Joe?” de-
manded one of the watermeu, as he rested for a
moment on his oars, and peered deeply into the
gloom.

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

“Bet hi h it’s drowned out, ’returned his com-
Eauion. ‘ ’Cause we must lie close on. Gi’n

or a set this way. I! I ain’t fooled myself—
Hello! what's that?”

This exclamation was called forth by a sudden
check to their speed that nearly flung both
rowers backward 01! their seats. They looked
hastily around, but nothing was visible. J oe
plunged his hand into the water and plucked up
a handful of rass.

“Jist so!” e declared. “ Thought I weren’t
mistaken. We’re grounded on the island. It’s
under water, sure enou h. But where in the
blue blazes is the boy! an you see a hair 0’ his
youn hide?”

‘ erg hair. Shoot that lazy moon! Why
doa‘tit u’l: out!”

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

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

His cr rung far over the waters, and was
swept as ore by the winds, but no answer came.
All sunk into silence again, except for the un-
ceasing whistle of the wind and the swash of the
water against their .boat.

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

“It’s all up with the poor lad,” he muttered in
awe-struck tones. “ This is the highest spot on
the island. He’s gone! Murdered! You can’t
call it by no sweeter name.” .

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

“ But tber’s no backbone in these city chickens.
The water’s cold, too. Maybe the delicate lad
got chilled through and gi’n up the fight.”

“ Mought be tuk of! by a boat?”

“ Mighty poor chance. Every bnat was in but
Jake Dumps’s when we set out. S’pose he is in
afore now.”

As he spoke the moon suddenly broke through
a rift m the clouds. and poured its clear beams
down 11 u the ruffled waters.

Noth n was visible but an angry stretch of
foam. 0 trace remained in land or sea of the
abandoned boy. The eyes or the fishermen met
in a nestioning glance.

“ at’s your verdict, Joel”

“ Bloody murder’s my verdict. What’s
years!” l

 

“Manslaughter, Joe. ’Tain’t murder where
’tain’t intended. I know enough law fur that.
But Dirk Dorgnn is got to answer fur this.”

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

An hour and more afterward the tgroup of
watermen, who yet stood on the wbar looking
out into the gloom that shrouded the waters,
heard the swash of oars, and even saw two dim
figures emerge from the shadowy night.

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

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

“Jake? What has kept you? Do you bring
good news? Have you seen anything of the boy
that Dirk took out?”

“ The boy ?” demanded Jake, in a tone of alarm.
“What’s wrong? Has anything had come to
the boy i”

“ Yes. Dirk sot him ashore on Pigm y Island.
We swept by the seas long store now, and we’re
desp’rat afeard there’s mischief afoot.”

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

u Ya!)

One hope had died in J ake‘s answer. Nothing
remained but to wait for the return of the two
messengers.

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

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

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

“ What news!" he asked. “ Is it good or ‘

“ The is!-

bad i"

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

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

“ By all that’s good, then, Dirk Dorgan’s got
to answer for this murder! He’s been bulldog
o’ the town fur mung a year, luds, but has
come to the end of is rope. He must be
arrested, instanter."

“Maybe he’s foolin’ us,” answered another.
“nMnoughten't have left the boy there arter
a .

“ Where is be, then! That’s the question.
We’ve got tohold Dirk till the mysm’s settled.
If the boy turns up, well and g . If he's
gone under, Dirk’s confessed his murder.”

“ Tell y« u what. boys,” broke in the caution:
patriarch of the village. “ ’Tain’t best to move
too hasty. It’s my advice that We put a watch
’round Dirk’s house tor the night! To-morrow
it the boy don’t come to light, we can get w

 

 

 

 

w in... Street Arab Detective.

 

over to the magistrate in the new town, and
totch him here with a warrant. That looks to
me the judgmatical thing."

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

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

As they came up in front of it the sturdy ruf-
flan opened his door and stepped out, in the rays
of the lampiight from inside the cottage.

He glared for a moment angrily at the group
of men, while a look came over his face as if
he had divined their purpose at a glance. He
advanced a step, apparently with the intention
of accosting them. But he seemed to change
his mind before speaking, and retired again to
1his cottage, shutting the door angrily behind

I .

m.

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

 

CHAPTER VII.
TEE BIRD OUT OF THE CAGE.

THE night passed on in gloom and shadow.
Still the wind howled, and the waves broke in a
roar of thunder on the bench. Over in the new
town lights were visible till late in the night.

The fierce surf had carried awa the strong
board walk that fronted the town, iftin it like
a feather, and dashing it back as if in isdain,
rentinto fragments. Many of the bath-houses,
too, had sunk into the waves, and their splin-
tered relics were tossed in shattered heaps on
the shore, lifting and grinding with every fresh
wave. r ~ ‘

The excitement which this occasioned hardly
extended beyond the river to the old town. It
was built too high for danger, the boats had
been secured early in the evening, and the tide
was now falling. There was no need to keep
‘vigil, except around the cottage oi Dirk Dor-
gan, where the guard still kept up its vigilant
watch.

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

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

“ A bit: ’arly in the night. But latterly he’s

' been as quiet as a mouse in a cheese. Keep

wide awake. He’s a cunnin’ varmint.”
" “ Ay, ayl Good-night."

The remaining hours of the night moved
silently on. The gloom continued deep and
heavy. The soughiug wind broke through the
fir branches. Erom afar came the heavy roar
of the sea. Flually a drizzling rain dripped
down, forcint the vigilant guard to retire under
the sh'eltero neighboring trees. 'But they re-
mained stationed at three points so as to com-
mand the whole circumference of the cottage.
It seemed as it a cat could not have crept past
unseen. Yet nothing appeared. Dirk seemed

, to be pawn; the night in quiet slumber. ‘

   

 

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

The sun was about two hours high when this
party of investigation returned. The boy was
not with them; that it needed no words to tell.

“ What news!” demanded old Toby. the patri-
arch of the town.

“ The lad has vanished. Dirk told the truth. _

He was left on Pi my Island."

“ Are you surel’

“ We found this lodged on the island shore.”

He held up a soaked cap, which was quickly
recognized as the one that Will had worn the
day before. The hardy Waterman drew their
breaths hard.

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

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

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

The fishermen, who shrunk from. a personal
encounter with their powerful and fearless
nei hbor, Willingly accepted this solution of the
di culty, and waited with impatience during
the hour of old Toby’s absence. At the end of

that time he returned, accompanied by the con-'

stable. Several other boats, containing inhabi-
tants of the new town, came with him._ The
news of the crime had spread rapidly from the
magistrate’s office, and created a considerable
excitement. A throng of people followed the
constable in his movement toward Dirk’s cot-
tage.’ .

“How lays the land?” asked the official. “Is

he Iabout? Has he shown any signs‘ot escap-
ing . -
“ He has not moved a finger. night' nor morn-
ing," answered one of the fishermen. “His
house was watched all night by keen eyes.
Since morning it has kept shut_ close, and not a
whisper has come from it. Dick smells what’s
in the wind, and is pinging sullen. But you
must 1001: out. That kin , when they do break
out, are like mad bulls.”

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

The cool advice caused a sudden halt in the
throng of followers. They had no fancy for

acting as targets. The guard, who still stood ‘

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around the house, advanced to meet the con-
stable, as he approached the door.

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

“ Not be. He isn’t that sort.”

The officer knocked vigorously upon the

door.

“ Dirk I” he cried, in a decided tone. “ Come

out. n You’re wanted. Skulking won’t serve
011. '

y No answer came from within. A deathlike

silence continued.

“ This is strange," muttered the officer, as he
laid his hand on the knob of the door, and gave
it a quick turn. To his surprise tne door opened
at a touch. It was not locked as he had fully
ex ected to find it.

be main roomful? the cottage lay open before
his eyes. It was empty. '

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

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

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

It was an utterly unexpected result of the
search. What had become of him? The guard,
who pressed eagerl forward, declared postive—
1y that be had not eft the building under their
eyes. He was not a bird to fly, nor a mole to
excavate. Haw had he escaped?

They looked blankly at one another, in dis—
may and astonishment. The crowd outside had

ushed into the house at this astounding news“

he search as yet had not been thorough. There
were closets, beds, and other places to be ex-
amined. But a few minutes suflicedtoinvesti-
gate every nook of the house. The result was
the 8am)! Dirk had vanished.

The crowd pushed out again, to talk over this

,unexplained riddle, while the constable began a

more careful investigation, in hepe of finding
some clew to the mystery.

Almost every article in the house was close]
examined. Somefew'discoveries resulted. Dir

had formerly kept a housekeeper, but for the

last year or two had lived alone doing his own
cookin , and surroundedvby a very sparse array
of turn ture.

Yet some things were missing. The clothes

he wore in his fishing excursions had been left
behind, and his best suit taken. Certain light
articles which he was known to possess had also
vanished. He had evidently made his escape
in some mysterious manner, and taken such of
lfiis poesessions as he particularly valued with
im. »
“You may think you have done your best."
said the constable, sarcastically’, to the watch-
men, “ but it is plain he has been too smart for
you. The business is in my hands now. He is

 

a fugitive murderer. I will have him, if I have
to search the whole State from end to end.”

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

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

Silent as Dirk had continued during the early

portion of the night. he had not been asleep; in

fact, the fierce ruifian was for once in his life
frightened at the consequences of his brutality.

The one thing be feai‘ed'wes the law, and he
had always cunningly kept clear of its fangs.
But now, through a hit of willful spite, he had
fallen into its meshes, and dreaded the most
serious consequences of his misdeed.

He had managed to overhear all that had

d among the fishermen, and knew well that”

he was liable to a charge of manslaughter, and
to a long term of imprisonment.

That the boy had been swept away by the

waves he did not doubt, and already the mind L L 

countenance of a drowned form rose fright-
fully before his awakened imagination.

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

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

him.

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

t was repeated-a distinct but faint rap! V

Dirk stood irresolute, his eyes fixed on’tbe
door. His usual prompt decision failed him for
once in his life. I '

The latch was lifted. The door, which was
unlocked, opened. A diminutive form slipped in,
18122119133585 the (30083 lliehind hslg‘l. tflg‘ftogfiigguthe

ig to teower am ,a or, yi re;
facing the astonished ruEan. ~ '_ , , ’
A “ Who the blazes are you? ‘And what are
you arter?" queried Dirk, in a low, hollow
tone. . -
,‘f Guess you oughter know me,” niplied the“

boy boldly. “ I’m Tony Thorns. 111 Jake ‘
Dumps’s nevey. I owe you one, and I’ve come"
to pay you.” ~

‘ Owe me one?" -
‘ E‘You bet I do! You saved me from admit-
in’ this afternoon. Mebby ou've to at it, but
I hain’t. You're in a aw u] scrape, irk, and

I’ve come to dig you out.” .
Dirk looked at him form minute with wild,

eyes. He then eagerly extended his hand,'and

grasped Tony’s shoulder. ‘ ‘ v '

“Come in here out o’ earshot,” he demanded.

   

 

 

 

 

twee}, :4 a. r.

    

 

 

La '

 

. won’t see you.

, spot where you won’t be found soon,

16 The Street Arab Detective.

 

“ Blast me if I don’t like yer! Come here, and
let’s hear what‘s in the wind.”

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

‘ Now, mid et, g in. I’m listenin’l”

“ It’s just t is, irk,” began Thorny Tony, in
a decisive tone. “ That boy’s drownded, and
it’s odd if they don’t stretch your neck for it.
They‘ve got it in their wool now I tell you.
You’ve oul got two friends left in the town."

“ Who’s hem?” queried Dirk.

“ That’s me, and Uncle Jake. I’d been
drownded mebbe this afternoon onl&r you
snatched me out. We ain’t forgot that. hat’s
more, I hate that litlle aristocrat like p’izen.
Me and him had a squabble only t’other day;
and I think you served him jist right. Now I’m
here to git you out of this scrape.’

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

" Not much,” answered Tony. "That ain’t

'» the way I do bizness. J ist listen to me. Uncle

Jake’s‘on the uard. He's stationed right back
0’ this door. on kin slip out and away. He
Take my word for that.”

Dirk glared at the confident boy in hope and
surprise.

“Why ye’re jist a little hossl” he declared.
“But, w at’s the use? I’ve got no hidin’-place.
Eey’ll pick me up likea stray log in the har—

:-

“Trust me for that," replied Tony, in a tone
of assurance. “Uncle Jake and me ain’t
slouches. to half do our jobs. I’ll take on to a
promise

you. But tell you what it is, if you have

anything here you value, you’d best take it with

on. It may be a long day store you come

ck. And this place ll be s’archsd severe.
now you bet. Hunt out your valybles. I’ll
slip out and wait for you jist back of Joe Bliz—
aard’s house. You needn’t be afeard to_ go
plastnchle Jake. He'll have his eyes tight
3 at.

The scared rufllan caught Tony by the shoul- ‘

der, and looked searchiugiy in his face. The
boy bore the scrutiny without fliuching. Dirk
released him with an air of satisfaction.

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

Tony obeyed without a word. He had his ob-
ject in leavin Dirk awhile alone. The ten min-
utes passed.
the house. going through some strange evolu-
tions, as he made up a small bundle of the ob-

.Jectl he wished to take with him.

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

The darkness was intenseas he slipped out into
the air. He could vguely see the form of the
watchman. He walk silently on. It roved
as Tony had said. ‘The guard stood mo onless,
whilehe slipped quietly past. In a few moments
more he was at the appomted rendezvous.

“Jolly!” remarked Tony, suddenly making
hiss rance. “Come on. Part of the job’s
done, at there’s more afore us.”

 

he solitary ruflian prowled about

CHAPTER VIII.
'monmr r01" oars IN HIS wont.

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

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

“ If you’d ’a’ heered ’em like I did, spoutin’ out
3 ite, it’d made yer blood crawl," continued

ony, in a sepulchral voice. “ They ain’t in
love with you now, nary time' and they’ve got
the drop on you, dead sure. Why, it wouldn’t
took much for ’em to hung you up, Without
judge or jury.”.

Dirk‘s veins tingled at this information. Bold
and reckless as he was, the thought of hen ing
was anything but an agreeable one, an he
knew well that he had made himself hated in the
village by his overbearing disposition.

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

“ Looks like it, on’t it?” rei'oined Tony,
scornfully. “ When I’ve jist ul ed yer neck
outer ther hangmau’s noose. ’ ain’t much use
workin’ for a teller like you, that ain’t at no
mo‘re7 conscience nor a bread-puddin’ has ump-
lin s. ’

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

“ And it’s what you won’t know. It’sa secret
hidin’-place, as Uncle Jake knows, and you’ve
got to go in there unbeknownst. I ain’t borried
this high-up boss and. stylish kerridge for fun,
now on hot.”

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

He laughed hoarsely, with a forced merm-
meut. He was evidently trying to throw oi! the
weight of his own troubles.

“ J ist you never mind that. Uncle Jake
allers butters his own bread. Don’t ax nobody
wdo it far him. But ou’ve got to blindfold
your ages afore you go nto his en.”

“W at fer?"

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

“ He's an old crocodile. last me if I’ll do any
sich noneuse I”

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

“ You dirty rapscallionl You shall drive me

blue.
1

here.

“,Iiike to know how you’re gain” to make
me.

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

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

“ Maybe not," answered Tony. without flinch-
ing: “ But Iknow this much You kin squeeze
a pig’s tail till you make him holler; but he
won t go where you want fer all your squeezin’.
Go ahead, Dirk,” he dropped the reins. ‘ You’re
$01.13,?) make me drive, are you! Let’s see you
. o l .

 

 

 

The Street Arab Detective.

17

 

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

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

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

on.”
y Dirk was fairly nouplused. Despite his
threats he did not dare 0 his companion an
injury, and Tony well knew that. The fierce
looks and tones of the ruifian were thrown
awa on the shrewd boy.

“ 'll be shot if I’ll go into any hole like a
mufl‘led rat!” he declared, violently, but witha
hesitating tone.

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

The bafled villain dropped the unyielding
boy with agestui'e of despite. He could hard-
ly check himself from dealing him a fierce blow
with his iron fist. But the moment was a peril-
ous one. It would not do to ' lose his only
friend.

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

“ That's my izness," answered Tony. “ The
night’s dark enough to hide anything, but I
won't trust it. You've got to have your eyes
blinded. That’s Uncle J ake’s orders."

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

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

Tony inspected the bandage. Satisfied that
it was secure, he took up the reins, and set the
home again into a trot. How he had, in a. few
days’ residence, learned enou h of the country
to go on along drive of a ark night did not
a pear. But, a. widenwake boy, like Thornyv

any, is quick at taking things in.

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

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

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

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

“ You kin take oi! the handkercher now.
But, mind me. Don’t poke yer nose outer these
doors, if you don’t want to git into trouble.
You’ve got to keep as close as a muskrat in a
mud-bank.”

Dirk hastily jerked ofl the bands 0 from his
eyes, and 100 ed inquirineg aroun him. He
was alone. Tony had disappeared.

 

A turned—down lamp faintly illuminated the
apartment in which he stood. It was a small
room, about twelve feet square, with a bare floor
and sparse furniture. There was nothing about
it to indicate anything secret or mysterious.
Such an apartment might have belonged to any
country house, or fishei‘man’s cottage.

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

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

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

Dirk seared himself, and dropped into a deeg
train of reflection. He had been hurried onwar
so rapidly for the last hour or twoss to give him
no time to think. This was the first moment in
which he had a chance for deliberate thought.
He began to measure his situation.

The man was of a. suspicious temperament,
and there had been much in the late events to
arouse his suspicions. Why had Jake Dumpsso
suddenly become his friend? He had shown no
disposition of the kind before, and Tony’s ex~
planation was not a very satisfactory one. And
what sort of a secret apartment was this! He
had been led to expect some cunnineg con-
trived hiding-place; yet here he was in the
room of an ordinary house.

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

Dirk looked at the door, and drew back his
ponderous fist with a half-formed intentiOn to
dash it through the stout panels. But he hesi-
tated. Tony’s warning was not without its

effect upon him. He might be running into
some un nown danger.

It was certain that he had been rescued from
a perilous situation. Why should he mistrust
those who had rescued him at their own risk?
He could be no worse 03 now than before.

Dirk resented himself and resumed his reflec-
tions. his dark fees working as the thoughts
passed successively through his mind.

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

“ I’ve got it, b Davy Jones!” he exclaimed.
“ A dashed fool‘ was not to see through it at
once! If Mark Wilson ain’t sit—the bottom of
this you kin salt me down fur a. herrin 1
He’s tried a. hundred different tricks to ss —
vats me, and this is the last. Han me if I
didn't think it thunderin’ queer that J a e Dumps
struck a nevey so suddenl See it all now. It’s
one o' Wilson’s games. Aha!“ tho ht he’d catch
the old coon, did he? Got me tangiring the pa-
gers With me, so as they could go through me!

last me if that ain’t keen! Next thing they'll
fetch the officers down on me, and s’arch me,‘
and snatch the dockyments. Isee throughit
now, clear to the bottom. But it won’t work,
Mark Wilson. I’ve sworn behave my revengeto

\ bitter end, and have it I will, if I have to

\

 

 

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18 The Street Arab DetectiVe.

 

burn the on ere. You ain't goin' to git the whip
hand of ole irk Dorgan so easy.”

He sat thinking for some minutes still. Then
he seized the lamp, and started on a tour of in-
spection of the house. He wanted to see how
the land lay are he decided on any plan of ac-
tion.

A pair of stairs led to an upper story, consist-
ing of two rooms, which he quickly examined.
They were plainly furnished, and had about
them that aspect of vague familiarity which he
had already observed.

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

He removed the chimney of the lamp with a
firm hand. He then took from the bosom of his
sea-shirt a narrow roll of papers, which he ad‘
vanced toward the naked flame.

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

As he spoke his eyes fell upon a spot upon the
wall which he had noted be ore, where hung a
framed portrait of a middle-aged gentleman.

His eyes distended with so den horror as he
again noted the picture. The frame was still
there, but the portrait had disappeared. Or
rather it had been replaced by a life-size youth-
ful face, with staring eyes and a countenance as
White as driven snow. No wonder that Dick
Dorgan was stricken with horror. It was the
face of the drowned boy.

A gasp of wild terror came from the lip: of
the startled rut-Ban. He slowly retreated, old-
in the lamp 1!] one hand and the papers in the
ot er, his eyes fixed in speechless aflright on the
deathlike apparition.

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

“ Murdererl ' pulsed the voice. “ It is I, your
victim! Your doom is sealed 1"

With a terrible yell Dirk let fall the lamp and
the roll, and dashed down the stairs almostat a
single spring. Like a wild bull be rushed at the
house; doort which flew open before his powerful
1m us. ;

lind with terror he sprung out into the
night. But in an instant he halted and looked
around him with a new sensation. What were
these houses, that stream? One glance was
enough. He was still in the town of Micmacl
He .had been completely fooledl Dirk’s terror
vanished; before this astou aging revelation. The
whole thing was 9, trick. he apparition was a
part of the trick. He turned and dashed back
ate the house and up the stairs as wildly as he
had dashed down. His eyes quickly glanced
around. There hung the rtrait, as it had at
first hung. There lay the amp, unbroken, and
still burning. But the valuable roll of papers?

In vain he sought. It had utterly disap-
peered!

 

CHAP I‘ER IX.
PIGKING UP naorrnn THREADS.

WE must stop for awhile and look back. One
cannot go on forever in life without an occa-
sional turn back in his path in search of some-
thing which he has passed unseen. It is so in
our present story. There are some dropped
threads in its context which we must go back
and pick up.

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

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

It will be remembered that when Dirk Dcrgan
had Set out on his fishing excursion with Will,
they had been followed at a distance by the
boat containin Jake Dumps and his readv—made
nephew. The utter had lagged behind, out of
sight of the forward boat, but yet at no great
distance in the rear.

Jake and Tony threw in their lines at a fish-
ing-ground a few miles up the inlet, where they
continued to fish for some time with consider—
able success. The afternoon waned while they
were thus occupied, the sun had sunk low in the
west, and they flung in for a final throw, Tony
remarking:

“ Arter this pull, we'd best take a tug at the
oars further upchannel. T’other boat’s makin’
a long spell, and I’m cur‘us to see if the!" ain’t
some deviltry afoot.”

“Don’t b’lieve there is” answered Jake, with
a shake of the head. “ Dirk knows he’s watched,
and he won’t tr no capers. If he hurt the boy
he’d get in tron 19.”

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

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

. Jake and Tony had now got to their oars and
rowad out into the channel, in the track of the
coming boat. ' ' -

“ Hillo, Dirk!” cried the old fisherman.

“What’s come 0‘ the lad as you tuk out With

0111’

y “ Left the bloody young bull-hound to cool his
heels 'on the island,” answered Dirk, brutally.
“ He's so rascally smart that a night’s out-door
coclin’ mought do him some good.” ‘

“ Come, come, that won’t do i” exclaimed Jake.
“ He’ll be swallowed alive by ’skeeters. Best go
back and take him 03.” ’

“ Much I will.”

“ Then I'm hanged if I don’t!”

“ You will, hey?" cried Dirk, angrily. " You'll
sp’ile my fun, Jake Dumps? Maybe you’ve for-
got the kind 0’ chap I am. Now, jist you snatch

«4.4.4W..-‘ W ._

,.

(film ash. .

.,...__._.....W o 

The Street ' Arab Detective. 19

 

your oars and row down channel ahead 0’ me, or
shoot me if Ileavea whole bone in yer dirty
hide. Dig out now. I mean it.”

Jake, indignant; as he was, knew his antagonist
too well to dare disregard this threat. Dirk never
multiplied his words. He Was just the man to
do what he had promised. The old fisherman,
who was no match for his brawny opponent, re-
sumed his oars, and with a long sweep sent the
boat spinning down the channel.

This movement had an unexpected result. It
unluckin happened that just at that moment
Tony had left his seat at the tiller, and was walk-
ing forward along the gunwale, for some unex—

lained purpose. The sudden movement of the
goat gave him a leeward jerk, and ere he could
regain his footing he toppled overboard with a
heavy splash.

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

But Dirk had been resting on his cars not far
in the rear. A hoarse laugh came from his
bearded lips as he saw the plunge of the unlucky
boy. But he dropped his oars into the water,
gave the boat 8. send forward, and in an instant
had Tony by the collar.

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

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

Tony was dripping and shaking himself when
J ake’s boat came gliding €12) alongside of Dirk’s.

“Jump aboard, boy. ou’re none the worse
for the duckin,” he cried. “Much obleeged,
Dirk. Likely ye’ve saved the lad from drown-
' l 7’ ‘

“ Pohl He’s not the first puppy I’ve snatched
out of the water,” answered Dirk, in an insult-
ing tone. “ Push on now, Jake. I ain’t goin’
to leave youhehind me.”

The fisherman obeyed, while Tony sat shiver-
ing in the cool night air. He had at first felt a
feeling of ratitude toward Dirk, but this last
speech be caused a revulsion in his mind. It
was not so pleasant to be compared to a drown-

ing u DY- .

“ill3 right, Dirk Dorgan,” he’ muttered to
himself. “You Won’t have me for a friend,
then. I’m your drowned puppy, am I? Look
out the puppy don’t bite. I’m old enough any-

how to have my eyes Open, if I am u'puppy.”

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

It was now “ save who can.” The two rowers
paid no further attention to one another, but

each worked for his 'own salvation in the inner

to 

 

edge of the boiling surf. Dirk’s vi orous swee
soon drove his boat in advance of fiake‘s whip
labored in the foaming sea-edge behind. The
stalwart ruffian turned into the mouth of the
river, while his followers were yet little beyond
the inlet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Keep a sharp lookout on the island now,”
warned Jake. “The moon’s up, and there’s a.
shadder o’ daylight yit. If he’s a-standin’ there,

ou kin see im. Let out a yell now and then.
he led mought be crouchin’ in the weeds."

The boat was close alcng the edge of the main" ‘
island, where it continued to advance, while
Tony kept his keen young eyes sweeping the
low-lying lands. Occasionally, also, he gave a

shrill cry, which rung high above the roar of

the wind. ‘ »

They moved on in this way for some twoor

tbrve miles. It had now become uite dark, but
the moon had risen into a. bank of when clouds,
which permitted an occasional glimpse of the
island surface. Tony continued his shrill calls
at fre uent intervals. ' ,
' Sud euly t ere came a faint answer; but to
their surprise it did not come from the direction
of the island. It seemed to come from over the
open water to the left. There was a momentary
lull in the wind, and Tony repeated his call.
The reply came again, louder and clearer than
before. . / . ’

” It’s no gull, at any rate 1” he cried, twisting
round. '

“ Do you see anything?” asked Jake. ’ v

“ Nothin’ but a dim shadow. It’s pitch dark
thereaway.” 7 . ‘

“ Let me git my eyes on it.”

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

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

The vague upright line which they had ob-

‘

 

 

 

1
i
I, .
l
(

 

 

. millions of them, I

 

20 g The Street Arab Detective.

 

served grew clearer as the boat moved toward
it.‘ It seemed to move. Tony called again.

u Ahoy!»

“ Hereaway,” came a distinct answer.

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

“ A boy. And pretty near a ghost.”

The boat was now close at hand.

“ Is it you, Will Worth?"

“Nobody else. Is that you, Tony Thorns?"

“ You bet.”
I “ Then thank Heavenl for the sea would have
swept me of! in an hour more.”

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

im.

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

Will had already made his way throu h the
water and stepped into the boat with ony’s
aid. he was shivering with cold, but he warm~
ly grasped the hands of both his rescuers, while
tears stood in his eyes.

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

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

“ he water did one good job, though.”

“ What was that?”

“ It drowned out the mosquitoes. There were
do believe, before the tide
swe t over the island.”

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

Jake with undiminished vigor, began to row
back, down the channel. As they proceeded,
the fell into an earnest conversation, in
wh oh the proper course to be pursued was dis.
cussed. I
“ ushl” cried Tony, at length. “There are
oars.” .

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

Its inmates were loudly talking, and they
passed near enough for every word tobe dis—
tinctly heard. The subject of their conversa—
tion was deeply interesting tothe thieelisteners.
Tony, in fact, was on the point of replying, but
he was checked by the cautious old man.

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

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

“ Let ‘em go," again remarked Jake. “ They ll

\

 

fetch in a had report, and maybe Dirk’ll be
jerked fur the murder. We must keep the boy
shady for a while. Somethin’ neat mought come
eaten this.”

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

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

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

Yet, startled as the boy was by the discovery
his quick wit at once took in the situation, and

he improvised, on the spur of the mement, the '

sepulchrai words which had thrown Dirk into
such terror.

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

“I wonder who’s got the bull by the horns
now?” he triumphantly cried. “Left me to be
drowned on an island, did you? I've a notion
I’ll be even with on for it. We’ve won our
game, and must ma 6 tracks. Mr. Wilson will
give half his fortune for this little bundle of
papers.

 

CHAPTER X.
A DOUBLE CHASE.

WE have already in a preceding chapter de-
scribed the events of the morning which. follow-
ed the stirring night of the storm. Dirk had
disap eared, as we know. He was not to be
foun in the village. But Will also had van-

' ished, and the inhabitants were more convinced

of the murder than ever.

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

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

Stilllanother inmate of the 'VIllage had disap-
peared, as Jake Dumps had discovered on his re
turn to his habitation. 'Tony had vanished. He
was not to be found Within the boundaries of
Micmac, and the old fellow, who had taken a
great fancy to his new-made nephew, was in a
serious fret at his disappearance.

As it is of immense importance to our story
to know what had become of these vanished
persons, we must return to the cover of the
nigh t, and seek to trace their movements.

Will Worthy, on his escape from the cotta e‘, i

had been forced to slip behind the door as D rk

’

‘9,

“sanguine. .

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3'-

J......-<-~»~—

w- a»

The Street Arab Detective. I 81

 

furiously returned, and rushed up the stairs
which he had just descended.

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

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

“ The best! I’ve got the documents! .But
we‘ve got to slide away from here instanter.
Dirk smellsarat, and will be out on us in a
second more.”

“Got ’eml Jolly boy! Como this way. I’ve
got the game laid out. We’ll salt the old
sucker-l”

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

“There you are, Will. Jump in and drive
oflll‘ik'e wild. lt’s Jake’s team. I'll make it all
ri t.

‘ Aren’t you coming with me?”

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

“ But where will I go to?”

“Anywhere, so it’s out 0' these diggin’s.
Make for a railroad depot somewhere. Snatch
strain, and dig for the city. Leave the team
to take her of itself. Wilson’s rich enou h to
pay the piper. Now shoot, like greased ight-
DID -
Will gathered up the reins and shook up the
lazy old creature, who had been coutentedly crop-
ping the wayside grass. He soon vanished into
the night, along the country road that opened
before him, but certainly not with the speed of
greased lightning as Tony had recommended.

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

“ You young son of a screech—owll" he hissed.
“So you re larkin’ round here, are you! 1 see
through the whole trick now, blast my stupid
brains! If you don’t put me instanter on the
track 0’ that devil’s cub I’ll grind you into a
plaster, shoot me if I don’t!"

Dirk, as we have said, was shrewd and quick-
witted. He had been for the time deceived,
and his senses hefogged with fear. But the
loss of his treasured documents had recalled his
wits. They had not gone without hands, that
he knew. Bands are usually connected With
the face. The face he had seen was not that of a
specter, for specters do not curry oil? stray valu-
a les. He saw through the trick a flash. The
boy was not drowned after all. He had been
res-cued, and a trick devised with his aid.

Who had rescued him? Who but Jllke Dumps?
At this thought a recollection came to Dirk’s
mind. He now know why the room had been
familiar to him. He was in Jake’s cottage. And
the b0 Tony? He was in this scheme. Like a
flash t a meaning of the rescue, and of his mid-
night ride, came to Dirk’s brain,

“Mark Wilson again,” he said, striking his
forehead in anger at his stupidity. “ It’s a neat

 

game Iswearl Hang it I don't show ’em that
Dirk Dorgan’s no baby to be played with."

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

“ What’s bu'stedl" queried Tony, without a
show of fear. “No use goin’ off half-cocked,
as I kin see. Guess somethiu’ got loose on yer
insides, or you wouldn’t be raisin’ sich a ran—
tankerous roar.” -

“The boy!" ejaculated Dirk, in short, thick
tones. “Tell me where he is, instanterl I’ll
not waste many words on you 1”

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

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

)

“Tell now, or—” Dirk raised his ponderous

s .

“ Well then, the boy 'ist shot out that there
door,” began Tony. “ e galloped past me like
a colt, and struck ’cross toward the river front.
Come along, and I’ll show you jist how he
went.”

“ That way!" asked Dirk, inting across the
village, to a spot where a. Iig t revealed a small
group of men.

“J ist so.“

“ Very well. Come ahead.”

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

“ Ye’re not goin’ the right way.”

“ Ain’t Ii” ueried Dirk, grimly, as he strode
on. “ The rig t way, I s’pose, would be to uv
myself up to them men, and be held est
while that young hound digs off 1 You‘re a keen
little coon; but Dirk Dorgan ain’t to be fooled
by a sand-snipe. Come on, now, and don’t
make no noise, or I’ll ch 9 yer weasend.
ghst "boy slides, it’s goin’ to be bad fur your

1 e.

He was hurrying in an opposite direction
from that into which Tony had sought to de-
ceive him. They were quickly outside the vil-

e.

A few steps more, and Dirk halted. He twist-
ed the boy around until he faced him. ,

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

It was unsafe to prevmcate With a man in
Dirk’s nt humor.

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

“ Where is the team then?” .

“ Can’t answer no oonundrums. Strayed 01,
I reckon.”

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

" Thought so." he declared. “ Ain’t uite a
fool yet. That’s what’s ’come 0' the li e rat.
Bet you high I overhaul him. Come ahead.”

He paused and looked around, feeling the

 

 

 

 

88 i The Street Arab Detective. i

 

weight in his hand very light. To his surprise
he held only an empty jacket. Tony had taken
advantage of the moment’s in'attention to slip
out of the garment: and disappear into the
darkness. A mocking laugh came to Dirk’s
oars.

“ Good-by,” cried Tony's voice from the
shadows. “ If you want to nab me, here I am.
Ret I guv you a foot~race.”

“ Go to blazesl” exclaimed Dirk in a rage. “ 1
know my game.”

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

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

The hours of the night went on, and daylight
appe'nred. Will was not yet overtaken. He had

managed, by the aid of a flexible switch, to get '

his old charger into a respectable speed. With
the start he had he had left Dirk considerably in
the rear.

But the road was a straight one, without any
branches, and the pursuer came on confidently.
When daylight broke, Dirk was sure of his
game. There were the fresh print of wheels in
the road. He continued his pursuit with un-
flagging strength. At a long distance in the rear
came on Tony Thorne, just keeping Dirk within
sight when some rising ground gave him a long
outlook.

' Will, tarnished by his exertions through ‘the
night, stopped shortly after daybreak at a road-
side house, and purchased a frugal breakfast.
He also gave his tired horse a drink and a nip at
the grass.

" This morning'rest lasted for half an hour, at
the end of which time he put his unwillin steed
again into motion. wither half-hour e apsed,
and Dirk came up to ill’s haltin -place. The
signs of a halt were unmistakable. o in bi»; turn
pausedin his career, and entered the cottage.
An old man sat in a corner engaged with his

2 morning pipe, and quite ready to answer Dirk’s

questions. -

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

I.“ Did he say where he was goiu’i” asked

irk.

“ Why,” drawled the old man behind his pipe,
‘f be was cur’us 'bout railroad depots and the
like. I .telled ’im the highest was at Sguam, ten
nudes furder. Reckon he’s gone there.

This .was enough. Dirk’s game lay clear be-
fore him now. The fugitive had the start, and
a horse’s legs to carry him. but there were short
cuts across the country which Dirk well Mum,
and he started off with confidence of nailing his
game in uam.

“ And I have them papers out o’him then, if
I have to squeeze out every drop of his blood.”
he savagely declared, as he left the road and took
to the wayside field. _

Fifteen minutes afterward the old man was

 

disturbed at his pipe by a third visitor, a stout-
built boy, who asked nearly the same ques—
tions as Dirk had put. ' _

The uerulous old chap was a little muted at his
multip icity of visitors. I

“ Mought let a man ha' his mornin’ pipe out,
anyhow," he grumbled. “ Wonder how many
more on ’em there are 1”

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

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

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

host.

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

“ Which way i”

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

“ It’s half an hour to the next train.”

“”Vary good. I’ll wait. Get me a bite to

Will quickly finished the plain meal set out
before him.

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

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

‘ He turned toward the door, and made a step
in advance. It was followed by two ste s in
retreat, while Will’s lace grew suddenly w its.

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

“ Ye’re in a hurry to 2.0, are you, my lad?
J iss s’poso you make up yer mind to wait a bit.
I’ve got a little crow to pick with you.”

CHAPTER XI. ,

., A TURN IN THE GAME.

To say that Will was startled. does not half
express it. He was overwhelmed, dumfounded,
utterly upset with surprise at this extraordinary
circumstance. Had Dirk Dorgan dropped from
the skies, or shot up from the earth? No mat1
tar how, he was there, at any rate, with a grin
of malicious triumph on his face, and it did not
take Will long to realize that he was in a very
ti ht box.

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

 

 

 

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i. .. Muswgm‘“ we... ....

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The Street Arab Detectko. 28

 

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

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

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

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

“Old cock and young. 'Dunno which crows
loudest,” sneered Dirk. “ Mehbe some on you’d
like toput me outer the way. If you’ve got
that notion, I’m agreeable." I

“Threaten me, do you, fellow?” stormed the
landlord. “ By Click and pie, you’ll go if I say
the word! What do you want here?”

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

“Don’t git r’iled ” he sootliingly remarked.
“Didn't want to tec yer sore spots. It’s only
ai'ter that boy I am, the rascally little thief l"

“ Thief 1” exclaimed Will, hotly. “ I defy'you
to prove that I’Ve stolen anything from you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stepped forward and reached out his
brawny hand for Will’s collar. .The lad re-
treated behind the landlord and his boon comv
panions. I

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

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

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

“ I’ll prove it, then. Let the little thief hand
you over the papers. If he can tell you what

' they are, he can keep them. ‘If he can’t, and I

 

tell you what’s in eveig'vy one of them, they’re
mine. Isn’t thatsquare

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

“ That sounds correct." said the one who had
spoken. “I don’t know any easier way of rov~
ing property. Band me the papers, boy. 6’]!
see who can best describe them."

Will had listened to this conversation, but he
had been listening more intently for something
else. It came at this instant, along, shrill, far-
ofl whistle.

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

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

“ That won‘t work, my ladl”declared the man
severely. “ He’s asking only for the square
thing. Hand them overnow, or we’ll have to go
through your pockets for the plunder.”

At this moment the whistle came again,
loude; and nearer, an unmistakable locomotive
51 na .

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

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

He was destined to be slightly surprised. In-
stead of handing him the papers, Will suddenly
struck up his hand and darted like a deer under
his outstretched arm. Ere Dirk could make a -
movument to interce 1; him, he had shot past
and ained the hotel 001‘.

“ cod-by!” he cried. “You can find me in
Philadelphia.”

Away he went, toward the railway station,
which the whistling engine was now rapidly
approaching.

A look of blank astonishment passed over the
faces of the inmates of the bar-room, who had
been completely deceived. Then, with a fierce
oath, Dirk wheeled around on his heel, and put
himself in rapid pursuit. 7 '

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

Will was active and swift, and darted onward
like a young deer. His pursuer lumbered after,

uickly falling into the rear. It was evident
t at he would not be able to overtake the boy.
Meanwhile the soundrof the coming engine grew
momentarily louder. -

Unluckily, Will was unac uninted with the
locality of the station and ad at first taken
the wrong direction. The sound of the train
set him ri lit, but he had lost considerable dis~
tance, whi 6 Dirk, who knew the town, made.
directly for the station.

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

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

\

 

 

firm”;  «V

‘,

 

 

 

 

 

84 ' i > The Street Arab Detective.

 

It was a risk movement. Dirk was nearer
than Will had agined. At that instant his
heavy hand fell on the boy's collar, 8. strong
jerk tore him from his hold, and the train
moved on, leaving Will held at full length of
Dirk’s powerful arm.

“ Weren't so spry as you thought, you blessed
ouug coon,” said the captor, with a grim
angh. “I’ve got you now, you katydid, and

I’ll have them papers, if I have to shake ’em out
of yer skin.”

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

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

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

Will had played his last card, and had failed.
Dirk released him and sprung for the package.
He was too late. The man who had taken the
matter in hand in the bar-room was ahead of

him.

“Just hold your horses,” exclaimed this indi-
vidual, ashe picked up the fallen parcel. “i
believe I was appointed umpire of this little
game. “You’ve got to prove property my
gvood sir, before you touch this package.

asn’t that the bargain?”

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

a ed.
' ‘1‘)?I‘hat’s my offer,” rejoined Dirk. “I ain’t

goin’ back on it.'”

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

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

pomt.

Will walked with them uietly enough. He had
done his best, and was de eated. There was no
use strugghg against fate, but he was determin-
ed not to lose si ht of that interesting parcel
while the ghost 0 a chance remained.

“ It’s about time we were going back,” re-
marked the landlord, pointing ahead. “ There’s
a carriage with a neat bay horse at the hotel
(100638,; fancy I’ve been running’away from
E“ - '

They looked curiously at the horse as the

. It was a stranger, and as wet as if t
, ad taken a long, hard journey. But there was
other matter of more interest just now, and
they crowded into the bar-room, in which there
was no sign of new nests.

“we‘ll soon sette this jig,” remarked the
man With the a rs, as he opened the ckage
and examin t em. “There’s a niim r and
a name at the head of each paper. The owner
oughtto be able to give these names. Your
turn my lad. What name is on number one?"

“ 1, don’t know!” answered Will, sullcnly.

The men exchangmi significant glances.

" It is our turn now,” the umpire said to Dirk.
“What s number one named?"

“I’m not sure ’bout the numbers,” answered

 

 

Dirk, standin with a firm rip on his chair;
“ but you bet kin lay dowu t e names. It’s my
notion as number one is—”

“ Dirk Dorgeu I" came a loud voice from the
rear door of the room.

"‘ Hillo!” exclaimed the waterman, looking to
see who had acoosted him.

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

But Will had his eyes fixed on another and
smaller figure that followed him. He could
hardl repress a cry; it was no lessaperson
than any Thorne.

Will would have rushed toward him with an
exclamation, only for some very energetic sig~
nals from Tony, who drew back again into the
shadow of the doorway.

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

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

Dirk glared at him in surprise.

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

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

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

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

“ You lie 1 you reprobate," cried Dirk.
“ There’s a be that knows all about it,” pointing
to Tony. “ tep up here, youngster, and tell
the truth. Ain’t that the boy that they sayI
murdered?”

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

“ on’t do, Dirk Dorgan,” he declared, shak-
ing his head. “You can't play no sich gum-
game as that. Didn’t s'pose I was zom’ to lie,
to help you out, did you? You got hold of the
wroplg coon, now you mind.”

“ by, you blasted devil’s cub l" roared Dirk,
springing furiously at Tony.

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

“It’s a neat game, my man. but it won’t
work.” he sternly remarked. “Yon’ll go back
to Micmac with me, if I have to take you 111
pieces. And you’ll havetobring up a better
witness than this lad before you get clear of a
charge of murder.”

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

 

CHAPTER XII.

IN THE HANDS OF THE LAW.

“ Nor proved. That’s the verdict,” remarked
the man who had appoian himself umpire.

 

  

 

“Nomad”, , .;

 

 

 

 

  

 

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The Street Arab Detective.

:25

 

“Here. oung man I uess this is your proper-
ty.” Hey returned Will the package of papers.
“ Sorry we let ourselves be taken in by this fel—
low.”

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

He was foaming with rage, While his little
glaring eyes rested in impotent fury on the two
he

s.

‘5" Why, you infernal little hell-dogs!” he roar-
ed. “ have you got the cheek to stand up there
and say you don’t kn0w one another, and that
this youn rat ain’t the one I left on Pigmy
Island? ang my top-knot, if that ain’t the
richest job I ever heerd on! Do you want to
ban me. on white-livered scapegraces?"

“ oul M; be much loss,” answered Tony,
shortly. “ There’s often been better men hung.”

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

‘ Blast yer imperdent ictur’—” began Dirk,
but be was suddenly cut 3 ort by the constable.

“Come—come!” said the latter. “ There has
been about enouvh of this. It was a neat %ame
you tried, Dirk Dorgan, but it has failed. a k
to Micmac you go, without delay.”

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

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

“All right; we will go,” said the latter.
“ Mind you all, I haven’t said I’m the boy or I
ain’t the boy that Dirk tried to murder. That’s
got to be settled before the magistrate. I suppose

' if I should say I was the boy this gentleman

wouldn’t believe it.”

“ Not much,” answered the constable, shortly.
“I ain’t uite reen enough to be sold for an
onion. 9’]! a1 go back to Micmao together,
and settle the bus ness there. I will leave my
horse here, landlord. There’s a train about du
for Micmac; we’ll take thatdown.” r'

Dirk fell into a sullen Silence. He was
satisfied so long as Will was to go back with
him. Once cleared of the charge of murder,
he could force the boy to return the stolen

pa rs.

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

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

A few minutes brought them to the magic-

 

trate’s oflice, which was quickly filled by the
thronging crowd.

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

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

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

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

“ No insolence sirrahi" roared the important
magistrate. “ What do you mean by this ridic-
ulous speech?”

“I mean that the boy’s here, at your elbow.
Ain’t got a hair rumpled on his head. I’d like
you to order this sharp coon to take these brace—
lets off my wrists. Only that I’m a quiet man
I’d brained him with ’em afore now.”

The puzzled magistrate rolled his eyes about
the room.

“ What does he mean?” he helplessly demand-
ed. “ Where is this boy?”

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

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

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

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

“ Because I did not know the boy, and he do.
nied that he was Will Worth.”

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

“ Then this chap did."

_“ Nary time,” answered Tony. “ We only
beat ’round the hush a trifle.”

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

“ Certainly. The prisoner stands discharged."

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

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

“ Another ‘ time don’t go so fast, and you
won’t have to eat dirt,” he sarcastically re-
marked to the constable. “ And now, our
Honor, I’ve got my charge to make. Don t let
that boy leave the room. 1 charge him with

reeling from me a package of valuable docu-

 

 

 

 

’7

1

 

 

 

 

fl". Auk“ ’

28 The Street Arah’ Detectivh. I \'

 

ments, which he has with him at this present
minute."

“Ahal” exclaimed the surprised magistrate.
“A charge of larceny. This isa serious matter.
Secure that boy. This may as well be looked
into now. Bring forward the defendant."

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

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

” Not so fast. Not so fast,” cried the official,
busily writing. “ Not a word from any one
until I am ready to question on.” He con-
tinued to write. "There! ow, my man,
make your charge. What are the particulars
of this alleged larceny?”

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

“ on’t look like a thief,” muttered the ofiicial.
“Well, young man, what have you to say to
this charge?”

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

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

“ You have not proved that they are yours,”
rejoined Will, easily. “I did have a roll of
papers, your Honor, which this man claims. I
Bicked them up on the floor of a. room in Jake

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

“ It was I drop
know itl” roared irk.

“Silencel” severely commanded the magis-
trate. “ This is a stran e accusation. But the
papers themselves shou d show who is their
rightful owner. Pass them up to me, young
man. Iwill take charge of them until their
ownership is proved.”

“I am sorry,” began Will, in an easy tone;
“ but [am not able_to do so.’

“ Not able? Why not!"

“ Because they are no longer in my possession.
I have returned them to the man in whose house
I found them by the hands of his nephew, Tony
Thorns.”

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

“It is a liel” cried Dirk, harshly. “ He has
them about him. I demand that he be searched.

'em there, and well you

, And fetch up the other boy, that young imp,

Tony.” ,,

But Tony was not to be found. Just when he
had left the room nobody knew, but he was cer-
tainly gone, and with him had gone Dirk’s treas-
ured documents, as Will's easy demeanor provad.
There was another serious checkmate to the old
rascal’s game.

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

“ Where’s the other young rat?” cried Dirk,
in a fury. “ He’s got m papers! Make a

track there, gentlemen. I l have them if I have
tosqueeze every ounce 0’ blood out of his dirty
carcass.”

He turned and plunged through the mass of

 

 

people with such vigor that they drew back in
hasty alarm, as if a mad bull had charged into
their midst. In a moment he was in the street,
plunging furiously on’ward.

The others rushed out after him, curious to
see the end of the race. Tony was nowhere in
sight, but Dirk pushed forward in a. straight
line, asifhe had a definite idea in his brain.
His course, in fact, led directly toward the
railroad depot. He was sharp enough to know
that the holder of those documents was through
with his business in Micmac.

He had not gone far, however, are the sharp
clang of a bell was followed by the short, impa-
tient puff of an engine whistle. The rumble of
rolling wheels came to their cars. It was the
outgoing train, bound for Philadelphia, and al—
ready beyond the reach of pursuit.

Dirk stopped in his mad flight. He grasped
his hair with an angry jerk, as if he would pull
it out by the roots.

“ The youn rat’s in it,” he declared. “ He’s
too wide awn e to stay in the same t0wn with
Dirk Dor an with them papers in his pockEt.
Mark Wi son scores one, but he ain’t won the
game yet. Blast my eyes, if I don’t show him
that I’ve got another shot in my locker!"

He hastened to the river-side, flung himself
into a boat, and crossed over to the old town.
Here he sought his cottage, and at once began
to put things in order for an extended absence.
The story of his acquittal had crossed the rivar
before him, and his fellow-wutermen merely
stared at him, without attempting to molest
him.

The next outgoing train for Philadelphia took
in it two more of our characters ,ns passengers,
Will Worth and Dirk Dorgan.

 

. CHAPTER XIII.
:romr ears IN HIS WORK.

WE must precsde the flight of our characters
from the town by the sea to the City of Brother-
ly Love, to which they were all rolling at rail-
road speed,

In the office of the large mercantile establish-
ment of Wilson &: Brown set the two members
of the firm in company with another personage,
a keen—eyed, sharp-faced individual.

They were engaged in earnest conversation,
the third person of the party listening with
close attention to the remarks of his compan—
Ions.

“You see how the affair stands now.” rc-
marked Mr. Wilson. “I fear it was an idle
scheme of mine to send the boys down there. I
have received no advices from there yet, and
have come to the conclusion that they will be
no match for the shrewd villain with whom
they have to deal. I even fear that he may do
them a harm if he discovers their errand, for he
is a violent character. For that reason I sent
for you.”

“ To go down and look after the safety of the

s?’ ~
‘Yes; and try to get at Dirk Dorgan’s
secret.”
“ I see; I see. Very well, I am open for the
job. But I cannot go it blind. .I must know all
the circumstances of the affair so thatI can

 

 



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The Street Arab Detective.

work intelligently. Nothing is to be picked up
by roping in the dark.”

“ on are right,” rejoined Mr. Wilson. “I
don’t like to open old sores, but of course you
must learn the story of my life ere you can
know how to act. I am of English birth, Mr.
’Morgan, as perhaps you may know."

“ Exactly, sir. Proceed."

“I inherited a valuable estate in England,
married there, and had one child, a charming
little boy. You will excuse me if I make this
story very short. Among the servants whom I
employed was one Dirk DorganI 8. surly fellow
who had been a sailor in his time, and bore a
very doubtful character. I did not know his
reputation until afterward, but found him a
difficult customer to get along with, and had to
reprimand him very severely on several occa—
sions. Finally, for some insolen’ce, I knocked
the fellow down With a cane, and discharged
him from my service.”

" Nothing uncommon in that,” remarked Mr.
Mor an.

“ e was of a violent temper, and sought to
gain revenge. He assailed me, in fact, and
injured me severely, for which he was arrested,
and sentenced to a year’s imprisonment. Such
is the first chapter of my story."

“Syore deadly revenge against you, I sup-

0ch

p “So I understand. But before he was re
leased from prison I had left England. A com—
mercial enterprise into whlch I had entered
obliged me to make a hasty journey to America.
I had only intended my visit to be temporary.
But on arriving here I found a splendid business
opening, that induced me to remain. My wife
had continued in England, and I employed her
in disposing of my property there, ere joining
me in America. In consequence of this aayear
elapsed before she sat soil for this country, with
my child, in the bark Emma. vessel belonging
to the mercantile house of which I was a part
ner.

“Dirk meanwhile had been released?” queried
Mr. Morgan.

“Yes, and had come to this country, where
he had settled as a fisherman on the coast. .1
have reason to believe that he still retained his
project of revenge against me. He unhappily
gained a splendid opportunity to carry it out.
In a fearful storm, now about seventeen years
ago, the bark Emma was wrecked on the
New Jersey coast, and nearly every soul on
board swallowed up by the merciless sen. She
was lured to the coast by false lights, if we are
to believe some of the watermen of the coast,
who do not hesitate to blame Dirk for the work.
However, that remains improved. At all
events she went to pieces, and my poor Wlfe
went to the bottom with her.”

He paused in emotion. Mr. Morgan looked
at him in sympathy, and asked:

“ The boy? Was he saved?"

“ There were only two souls came ashore
alive. A sailor and my child. He was carried
by the sailor, but was taken from him while he
was in a swoon. He has never been seen since.”

“That is very strange,” remarked Mr. Mor-

. “Does no one know what was done with
$0 child, or who obtained it?”

 

8'!

“Not a soul knows. All we know is that
Dirk Dorgan disappeared that night from the
village of Micmac, and was absent for several
weeks. He then returned and resumed his old
life, as if nothing had happened.”

“ You are sure the rescued child was yours?"

“Oh yes! The sailor is still alive, and has
testified to that."

“ It is a strange story. You have made
efforts, you say, to discover the truth from
Dirk?”

“Many. But all useless. I am satisfied that
he has proofs concealed that would put me on
the track of my child, if they could be obtained.
I have sent the boys down on a last effort to get
these proofs. It is the same mission whichI
wish you to undertake.”

“ It is a doubtful enterprise,” remarked Mr.
Morgan, shaking his head. “We might arrest
him and Search his premises, but I imagineit
would be useless. Such men know wall the art
of concealing. As for inducing him to reveal
his secret there is hard] is forlorn hope of that.
Possibly some happy c ance—such chances do
occasionally occur. At all events, nothing tried
nothing won. I will go.”

“I have but slight hopes of success,” an-
swered Mr. Wil~on, mournfully. “ Yet it is
likely that the boys} may have made Dirk’s ac-
quiainntance by this time, and through their
all —

He was interrupted by the opening of the
door, which was flung back with as much vigor
as if it had been struck bya battering-ram.
The space was filled with no less a. rson than

Tony Thorne, who stood there wit sparkling
eyes and flushed face.
“ Here I am i" he cried. “ Right side up, with

care! Jolly as a rooster and wide—awake as a
June-bugl Bet you high that Tony and Will
are the lads! If we ain’t gone through Dirk
Dorgan like a cat through a milk-pan, then
there’s no use talkin’, that’s all.”

" What‘s the matter, boy?” Mr. Brown
s rung up and grasped him by the arm.
‘ Have you lost your senses? What ails you!”

“Guess my brain -pan‘s sound,” answered
Tony, shortly. .

“ ‘hen, what do you mean?” asked Mr. Wil-
son, eagerly. “ Have you been successful?
Have you got thch”

“There they are!” exclaimed Tony, slam-
ming the package of papers on the table with a
thundering slap. " Fetched ’em, you bet! Will
and Tony are the boys. Go through ’em instan-
ter, for old Dirk is arter me like a niiger arter
a ’possum. He'll sp‘ile the game if 9 gets his
play in afore you.”

Tony sunk into a. chair, utterly exhausted with
his haste and his excitement. The remaining
members of the party were not less excited. Mr.
Wilson seized the package with trembling flu-
gers, o ned it, and scattered the papers it con-
tained oosely ever the table.

He snatched up the first of these that came to
his hand. and hurriedly examined it. Then,
with a flushed face and learning eyes, he
sprung up and seized Tony pulsively by the
hands.

“The thanks of a father on you, my lad,” he
fervently exolaimed. “They are the desired

I
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28 ’_ The Street Arab Detective.

proofs. The will put me on the track of my
stolen son. 0 not fear but I will repay you
richly for this service.”

“ Guess I’ve had my pay out in fun,” an-
swered Tony indifl'erently. ‘ Best pay Will. It
was him snatched the doekyments. And lawseel
ain’t we had a royal old time! You best be-
lieve.”

“ Examine them, Mr. Morgan and Mr. Brown.”

, cried the excited father. “ Dirk has been kind

enough to preserve written statements of all his
operations, as I had reason to think. These are
in our hands now. He has furnished us the
means of defeatin his schemes.”

The other out emeu examined the papers
carefully. A ter doing so Mr. Morgan ooked

up.

“ There will be no need of going to the shore
f r evidence," he said. “We have it here, in
b ack and white. But we havenot the child yet.
It seems by these papers that Dirk placed her in
charge of a woman named Rebecca Luke. in this
city. That woman must be found, and quickly,
before Dirk can see her. Did you say he was
following you?" he asked Tony.

“ Calk late he is. I left him in Micmac, but I
bet high he’s arter me on the next train. What
did you say the woman's name was?” There
was an odd twinkle in Tony’s eye.

“ Rebecca Luke," replied the detective quick-
ly. “ Do you know her?"

" No,” answered Tony. “ I’vea notion, though.
I kin git on her track afore she’s much older.”
His face was full of the light of a shrewd idea.

“Do so, then, as nick as possible. Meanwhile
I will set the mac inery of the police force at
work to discover her. If she is still in this city
I will Promise to trace her in the next five or six
hours. ’

“ And the next train from Micmac will be
due in three hours,” declared Tony. “That
fetches Dirk. Dirk goes and puts mischief in
this woman’s head. The'game’s all up. Five or
six hours won’t do.”

“ Come with me, boy.” cried Mr. Morgan.

“ You know Dirk. We will watch the train.
Put me on his track once, and I promise to dis—
count his little game. Come on, there areno min-
utes to spare now. We must strike while the
iron is hot.” ‘

He hastened from the office. followed by Tony.
But the latter was much the less excited of the
two. There was evidently a queer idea at work
in his brain, which brought a sly smile every
few minutes to his lips. Tony was undoubtedly
working upa little game of his own, that was
warranted to discount the detective’s sharpest
BC eme.

 

CHAPTER XIV.
max snocxs ran nnmcm’s GAME.

Ina mesnly-fnrnished room in a tumble—down
house. in a southern section of the city. sat a
wrinkled and ill-favored old woman. who loode
as if she had grown old rather through vice
than ars. She was rocking herself in a creak-
ing 0 chair which threatened to go to pieces
m h every movement. As she rocked, she hum-
med to herself in a cracked voice some ditty of
her youthful days.

“The ungrateful young divill” she sourly.

   

 

muttered to herself. “ He ran away and left
me. he did. If he‘d only knowed, he‘d not been
so quick. I’ll pinch him yet—1’11 pinch the un-
grateful brat till he howls!"

She closed her thumb and finger with a spite-
ful movement, as if she had a morsel of living
flesh between them. There was something cruel
in the glare of her twinkling eyes.

Ere she could say more the door was flung
quickly open, and a man hastily broke into the
room. It was the stalwart form of Dirk Dor-

gan.

“Quick!” he cried. “ I am tracked by the
police. My apers are stolen; I trust to you to
save the who egamel”

The woman sprung to her feet with an alert
energy. She seemed to have regained her yOutlr
ful vigor.

“Dirk!” she exclaimed. “You herei—and
tracked? Speak—quickl What am 1 to do?”

“ Swear you never saw the boy—you had no

“Pishl It won’t do,” she cried, sneeringly.
“ There’s dozens know it. And they’ve got the
(papers you was fool enough to keep. It won’t

O.

“ You’ve lost sight of him, then 3” Dirk hastily
continued. “ He ran away. years ago. You
don’t know where in the world he is.”

“ That’s better.” She nodded approvingly, as
she sunk back in her chair.

“ Stick to it," cried Dirk. “ You know me,
Beccy. Don’t dare go back on me.”

Ere more could he said the door again opened
an; the tall, athletic form of Mr. Morgan on-

r .

He looked knowingly from one to the other of
the two persons present. ‘

“ Dirk Dorgan,” he said, “ I am happy to
make your acquaintance. Mrs. Luke, our
most obedient. I am Sorry I was not a ittle'
sooner, as I would haveenjoyed the short con-
versation you have been having together.”

“Who are you?" Dirk harshly demanded.
“ What do you want?”

“Suppose you let the lady of the house answer
that question.” replied the officer. “ As for who
I am you will soon know.”

He turned to the door and madeasign. A
policeman entered.

“ Take care of this man.” He inted to Dirk.
“Beware,” he continued. “I ave a warrant
in my pocket against a certain Dirk Dorgan for
child-stealing. Keep quiet if you don’t want to
get into mi achief.” _

Dirk turned slightly pale at this painted warn-
ing, yet be retained his scornful expression of
countenance.

f “ (go ahead,” he remarked. “ I won’t inter-
ere.

“ Then you have done the mischief I feared
already,” rejoined Mr. Morgan, with a threaten-
ing look at the stolid ruflian. “ It is a long lane
that has no turning, Dirk Dorgan. as you may
find out are you are done with me.”

He turned to the old woman, who had 00n-
tinnnd to rock herself during this conversation.

“Now, Mrs. Luke. I want some information
from you,” began the officer, in a stern tone.
“ You will find it to your advantage t0 BMW”

me clearly and truthfully. Seventeen Years

I

3‘ v - ‘ ' I ~ Sew-.ftsi'.;-;,ié8‘:'

 

i

 

 

 

 

 

The Street Arab Detective. 89

 

a‘ o a child, then not more than a year old, was
pfacgd in your charge. Where is that child
now

He bent his brews threatenineg upon the
old woman, as if he desired to intimidate her
into making some damaging admission. But he
did not know his party. Mrs. Luke put on a
lugubrious express1on, and broke out in a high

ke :

31f you’ll only bring him back to his old
aunty again, I’ll forever bless your sweet face 1”
she cried, in strained accents. “ Do I remember
the boy? It’s well I remember him. I’ve not
had a night’s sleep since he ran away from me,
the blessed young thafe. Oh, wirral but it was
a bitter pill for me. I loved the little lad like
he’d been my own. Och'l that he could ever
leave his old auntyl”

“ Where. is he now?” asked Mr. Morgan,
sternly. ‘ 0

“ Sorra the one of me knows! It’s a good
ten years since I set eyes on the blessed rap-
BCnlllOn. V And I’m always afeard my dead
and gone sister will rise from her grave to
ax what I’ve done with her boy. But, indeed, I
treated the ungrateful lud like he was an an-
gel, and it’s never my fault that he went to the
bad."

The officer turned his shrewd eyes from Dirk’s

stolid face to the lugubrious countenance of the.

old woman. .

“ Your sister? What has she to do with it?”

Mrs. Luke drew the back of her hand across
her e es as if to wipe away a tear. A

" 'nsn’t it my own sister Maggie’s son, as was
married to Dirk’s brother here? Ah, me, what
a pretty gal she was. They are both dead years
a one, the more’s the pity. Dirk took the baby,
a (1 brought it to me to fetch up. Ah, w1rra!
but I’ve done my duty badly.”

Mr. Morgan’s brows contracted as he con-
tinued to look in Mrs. Luke’s whining face. He
answered sternly: .

“ That story won’t do, my good woman. It is
a tissue of lies from beginning to end. If you
are wise you will tell the truth honestly: I
know for more of your history than you im-
agine, but I will give you a chance to redeem

ourself without further trouble. Make a. clean
reast of it, and you will be made comfortable
for the remainder of your life; continue to he,
and you go to prison."
» “Me lie, is it? It’s lucky for you I’m a weak

- old woman, or l’d tear your eyes out fer the in-

sult. Oh, mercy on me! I’ve lived till this
day to be called a liar by a cream-faced ra scal-
lion like thisl An old woman With gray airsl
To think of the shame of it!” . _

She rocked herself violently, With her hands
to her eyes, from which she seemed to be seek-
in to force tears. _ V

r. Morgan turned suddenly to Dirk, on
whose face lurked a sneerng smile.

“ You have a neat confederate," he remarked.
“ She has been taught her story well. v I might
believe her but that 1 have evidence in your
own handwriting to the contrary. You will go
with me."

“ W here?” . .

“ Where I please. To prison if I like. Your

1 only hope for liberty is in telling the truth.”

 

“Go ahead,” said Dirk, defiantly. “ I dare
you to prove anything against me.”

Mr. Marian turned to the policeman.

“ You ta e charge of the old lady, Mr. Jones.
Don’t let her out of your sight. I Will send an
oflcer with a searchwarrant to search her
housefi7

“ Search my house!” exclaimed Mrs. Luke,
angrily. “And for what, you insulting black-
guard?”

“ For the baby clothes of the child that was
left in your care.”

CHAPTER XV.
THE LAST TUNE or A VIOLIN.

IT was the day succeeding that in which the
events just described had taken place. In the
private office of Wilson & Brown a group of per-
sons was gathered. These consisted of the two
members of the firm, of Dirk Bergen and Mrs.
Luke, of the detective, Mr. Morgan, and one or
two other persons connected with the mercantile
establishment.

A long conversation had taken place, but with
little effect. Dirk was still stolid and obstinate.
As for Mrs. Luke neither promises or threats
had any efl‘ect on her. She alternated between
whining and show, until the shrewd detec-
tive was at his wits’ end how to get to the bot-
tom of the lie which he knew she was telling.

“We have a clear case against these persons,
Mr. Wilson,” he remarked. “ Your reco ition
of the child’s clothes, and trinkets, whic were
found in Mrs. Luke’s house, to be those worn by
your son, is satisfactory ewdence.” He pointed
to a small heap of garments on the table. “ The
sailor who brought the child ashore has seen
and recognized them. I have found plentiful
evidence that this woman had the child in her
keeping, and that she treated him with shame-
ful cruelty. He was forced to go out as a beg—
ging fiddler, and beaten cruelly if he did not
bring in the amount of money she demanded.
No wonder he ran away. But I will trace him
yet [fly the fiddle.”

“ e stole it, the dirty oung thief,” declared
the old woman, shrewish y. “ He stole it and
ran away, the little blackguardl Oh wirra. if
I onl had my two hands on the fiddle again,
that elonged to my own dead son!"

“ Is this it, Mother Luke?”

It was a youthful voice that spoke. Tony
Theme stood before the old woman, holding up
a diminutive, sadly—cracked violin.

She glanced at the musical instrument with
wild-staring eyes, and then snatched it eagerly
from his hands, while a pulse of real emotion
passed over her wrinkled face.

“ It is mine! It is mine I" she ejaculated,
pressing it eagerly to her bosom. “ Many and
many a time haveI one to sleep to its music.
It is my own that I oved as much as I hated
the runaway brat that stole it. Nobody ' shall
ever take it from me a ain.”

Here was a decided c ange in the programme.

 

Every eye was fixed on the old lady, who had ’

at last been moved to is truthful expression, and
on the boy, who stood before her with a very
knowin look on his shrewd young face.

Mr. organ quickly took the cue. He turned
to Tony With is surprised countenance.

 

 

 

l

 

“has. n 1,»,  J

 

' covered treasure to her breast, as

80 .

The $treet Arab Detective.

 

“So you were on the track all the time you
keen young rogue,” he exclaimed. “ here
gid ypu get the fiddle? You know the miSSing

gYou bet!” answered Tony.

Two men sprung forward, Dirk and Mr. Wil-
son, each grasping one arm of the boy. '

"You young liar!” hissed the first. “Look
out that I don’t burst your poll."

“ You know my soul" cried the second. “ Ohl
where is he! Restore him to my arms!”

“ Don’t swaller me up alive," cried Tony,
sourly, as he jerked loose from the two bands
that held him. “It’s jist as you say, Mr. Wil-
son. I kin lay my hands on your son. Nailed
him last night, as soon I heard that Mrs.
Luke was the woman as had him.”

“Where is he?‘ Bring him to me!” cried the
excited father.

“ Look out for a surprise, then, for you know
him better than 1 do. Jist look sharp for a
queer old eyevopener. Come in here,” he cried,
with a raised voice. “ You‘re wanted by your
daddy i"

All eyes were turned to the door of the (mace,
at his call. To their utter astonishment, there
walked in the graceful form of Will Worth,
with a look of modest hope on his intelligent
young face.

Ere a word could be spoken, Mother Luke had
sprung forward and caught the boy by the arm,
while her bleai'ed eyes ardently surveyed his
face. The incident of the violin had someh0w
roused new thoughts and emotions in her mind,
and she was a different woman from what she
had been ten minutes before.

“It is be! It is hel” she cried. “The boy I
brought up and who ran away from me. Ah!
the un rateful scamp, arter all I’d done for
him! ut I’ve got my fiddle back. Nobody
shall ever have it a sin. It is mine, mine!”

She released Wil ’s arm, and hugged the re-

f she, too,
had found a lost child.

Mr. Wilson stood for a moment in a state of
utter bewilderment.

“ Will! Will Worth l” he cried. “ Be my lost
son! Ah, he is! he is! I was always drawn to
him! I always loved himl Come to my arms,
my boyl My long-lost son I”

 

eyes, as be bent his head in an attitude of prayer
over the lost that had- been found, the waif
of the sea, thus surprisingly returned to his
arms.

We need not dwell upon this strange finale
to our long tale of a boy’s life. It was an ex-
traordinary turn of circumstances that the lad
whom Mr. Wilson had himself brought up into
a business life, and had chosen to aid him in
the search for his abducted child, should him-
self prove to be that child, returned to him in
this surprising manner. Even Dirk’s harsh face
could not repress a trace of emotion at this re-
markable turn of destiny.

The reader will forgive us if we quickly (lis-
miss our characters. We have reached the last
scene of the play, and there is no need to keep
the actors posturing before the curtain. It will
suffice to say that Dirk was convicted of the
crime of child-stealing, and sentenced to an im-
prisonment for ten years 'in the State Peniten-
tiary. As for his confederate, it could not he
proved that she knew the child to be stolen, and
she was necessarily acquitted.

Mr. Wilson, over whose life a cloud had so
long hung, was supremely happy once more in
the recovery of his lost son, and the more so
that the poor boy had passed unscathed
through the fire of poverty and crime, and
emerged as worthy in nature as in name from
the perils of a vagraut’s life.

The happy father was not ungrateful. He
had “saith enough to make comfortable all
who had aided in the search for his lost son.
The marketman who had been so kind to Will
in his boyish vagrancy has been given a boost
in business that has made him a man for life,
and as for Jake Dumps he blesses the day in
which his new—found nephew came to him. He
has no longer need to fish for a living.

Tony Thorne has ceased to be a scapegrace
street boy. Well educated, and broken from
his old habits, he has long been a prominent
salesman in the store of Wilson & Brown,
where his shrewdness has enabled him to make
his mark in the business world. He and Will
have become the closest of friends, and are not
likely soon to forget the great mill With Jimmy
Jones, which first brought them together. It
is ver likely that they will in time succeed the

amoment he had Will clasped in a close wealt y commercial house of Wilson a
embrace, while tears ran profusely from his Brown.
D
THE END.

Np... _..

 

-§

 

 

 

 

. . “4‘ “W’NWLV

BEADLE’S POCKET LIBRARY.

Published Every Wednesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Five 0m.

1 Deadwood Dick, the Prinro aging Road. ByE L. Wheeler.

Kong I Kin : ur, Thu Iii-d Right ilnnd. By Bnfialo Bill.

The Flyllu: 'nnx.ce. Bv Cnl. Preniin lnzrnhnm.

The Double Dnz elm. 15y Edwnyd L. Win-eler.

The Two Dctvoli‘vcu. By Albert W. Aiken.

The Proirie Pilot. ‘ B

The Iiuil’nlo Demon. l_ .dwnrd L. Wheeler.

Antelope Abe, tlu- Boy Guide. My 01] Gunmen.

Ned \Vvlile. the lioy Smut. By “ Tuxns .lnc’."

Ruifolo Belug'rlgm 1;; the l‘lslol. “Bygfl. L.Wheeier.

Hui h Ro . t i: av nccnl y . i.l’rent‘mlnznhnm.

Niel? 0' tin: Ni hm. B)" T. (7. ilnrbnugh.

Yellowstone nck. By Joseph E. iiadger, Jr.

“'lldlvnn Kim Buy Clnndo Dnvnl. ByE. L.Wllee]ar.

Dlnmond lurk; hr, The Myltery of n... Yellow-tone. By
Cuinncl l’rentiaa lngrnhnln.

Keen-Knife, i‘rincc ml the Prnirior. By OiiCoomeI.

Oregon Sol, Sim; Whitllvs’s i'... >y. ByJ. F, C. Adam,

Dentin-Face. the Detective. iiy i... Win-em.

Lnnno Jack, the Yum”: Muatnnger. liv (ill Cuomel.

Roaring Ralph Rovkwood. By linrry St. George.

The Boy Clown. By Frank 8. Film.

The l’hnutom Miner} vr,Dundwood Dick’a Bomnu— By
Edward L. Wheeler.

The Son— nit. By Cnpt. Frederick Whittaker.

'I‘he Dumb S y. By 011 Canines.

itnttlln Ru e. By linrry SLGeorze.

Old Avn unehe. the Annihilator. By E. L. Wheel".

Glum- Eye. the Grant Shut oi" the Wed. By J. F. C. Adm

The Boy Onnhllu. iii Rngrr Stnrhuck.

Dirk Darling. iliu Pony Express Rider. By Capt. F. Whiiuimr.

lioh \Voolf. the Border liufllnn. Bv Edwud L. Wheelrr.

Nighilulznie Nut. By '1‘. C. iinrbnugh.

“luck John. the linnd Agent. ii ' Jone h E. Bndger. Jr.

Dmuhu "ii. the Mmkvd Terror. y E. . “'heeler.

Hurt Bunker. the Tm Liar. By Genrge E. Luallo.

The Roy Rifle:- nr, e Underground Culnp. By A. 0.1mm.

The W “e Bu nlo. By George E. Launllu.

Jim Bludnoc. Jr. WEdward L. Wheeler.

ifinlo Bill.

    

 

HA unnuuu
x—ccxda «pan—etmqaahau

   

   

bum—:cmqaapwa-ccmdaunw

 

 

Ned "nzel. the Bov ’l‘rnpper By Capt. J. F. C. Adam.
I end] Eve. “it! Unknown Scout. By ilnfl'ain Em
A hlek *hlflion’n Pot. iiy Cnpt. J. i“. C. Admin.
1 Dendu‘ood Dick'n Euglcn. By Edward L. Wheeler.
1 The Border King. liyflli Connie!-
A (Md llh-knry ; or, l’nndy - 8min. By Harry St. George.
‘ The White Indlnn. ll . C. Adnun.
1 5 linekhoru lllll. "3‘ Ed - Wilt‘eiel‘
z (i The Shadow h'hlp. liy L'ul. Prentiss lngmhnm.
1 7 The Lcli Brotherhood. By W. J. Hnullltnn.
‘ 8 Dandy Jack: or, The Outlnw of the Oregon ’l‘rnil. By T. C.
Harbnugh.
49 llurrlonne Dill. By Joseph E. llddzen Jr.
50 Single lluml; or. A Lii'u for n Lil... in w. J. Hamilton.

61 Potent-leather Joe. By Philip  Wnrne.
iii The Border Robin "and. liy liuil'nio Bill.
58 Gold Rifle, the Silllrpshouier. By Edward L. Wheeler.
54 0Jlszép’l Cabin: ur, A Greenhurn iu the Woodn. By Capt.
- o . . 4 “HIE.
55 Delaware Dick, the Young Ranger Spy. By Oil Cgomu.
56 Mad Tom “'entcrn. liy W. J. Hamilton.
67 [Deadwood Dick on Deck. By Edward L. Wheeler.
58 "nwkcye Hurry, the Ynung ’I‘rnpper. is Oil Cuomn.
59 'l he Boy Duellnt. By Col. l’renliu lngm run.
60 Abe (lo 1., the Cl’DW-Kl lur. By Albert W. Aiken.
ill Corduroy Charlie. the Boy Bravo. liv Edward L. Wlueiar.
62 \VIII Sinners. the Boy Damtivo. By Ch”. Morril.
68 801 Oil er. the Giant Tunney. 8v A. W. Alina.
64 Roaebn Rob. Bv Edwnrd L. Wheeler.
.5 lehtnlu§ Joe. hv Ca utaln J. F. C. Ad ml.
66 Kit “are not, the Woo -Hawk. By T. . llubuugh.
67 Rollo, the 11in Rnnger. liy Oil Coomel.
68 Idyl. the Girl Miner; or, Rosebud Rob on Hand. By Edwud
. Wheeler.
69 Detective Dick: nr,'l"'ne Heroin Raga. By Charla: Martin.
70 Sure Shot Seth. thix liny Rinenmn. ByOIlCacmeI.
71 Sharp Rum: nr, The Adventurer ofa Friendieu Buy. By J.
Alexandr: Pntian.
78 The Lion oftho Son. By Albert W. Aiken.
78 Photozru h i’hil.iim Boy Sienth;or, Rolalmd Rob’l Renpmn
nnce. By .. L. Wheeler.
74 Picayune Peter or, Nicodemul, the Dog Detective. By
hnriea Morril.
7b inland Jinn nr.’l'ho Pet of the Family. By Bncobridga
Hulnynz Jnrk I-inrkaway).
76 Wuteh- ye. ille Shadow. By Edmsrd L. Wheeler.
’7 Dirk Dead Eye. the Buy Smuggler. B Col. P. Ingmhnm.
78 Deadwood Dick's Device. Br Ed.  “'heeler.
"(9 The Block Muntnnger. By .n \L Mayne Reid.
80 0h] F‘rmutv. the Guide. By T. C. lnrbnulzh.
51 The Son Iner. By Col. Preniiu lnzrnhnm.
82 Reth Jones; or, The Cu than of the Frontinr. By E. 8. Ellis.
an Canada Chem. the Conn rrener Chief. By E. L. Whulor.
84 The Dumb Page. By Cnpt. Frederick Whittaker.
85 Th. Boy Mineral. Ev Edward 5. Lilln.

l8 Jack linrlmwny in New York. B Bruobrid H
Guarani. mums mm“ 1

Of The lint-or Ontolo- B!

i

 

58 Dendwood Dick in Lendvilie. By Edward 1.. Wind”.
3% lliiii Bldgon ’i‘r-nvcg- gagging; Ellis.
' ‘ c ‘exan. y on r. -
i “Iii-’33": Mun, ilk King of tin Plums. By Jng. E. Badger, Jr.
92 The Ocean Bloodhound. Bv Sumch \ ’. i‘fflrce.
93 Phil Hardy, the Bull Buy. ByflCbarlen Marry.
94 Deadwood Dick In Detective. By E- L- “ huilr.
95 Buck Buckrnm. ii ' ClPi-Mlll J. F. '(X Adnlm.
98 Gilt-Edged Dick. 13y Edward L. \’i healer.
9'? The Kind; Steed ofthe Prairies. By Jame: L. Bowen
93 The Sea Scr eIIt. By Juan Lewis.
99 Bonanza ml. the Man Trucker. By E. 1.. Wheeler.
100 Xut Todd: or, The Fate of the Sioux Captive. By E. S. Eilin.
101 During Davy: the Young Bur Killer. By Hury Si. Gum.
102 The 1 0110“ Chief. My (Tnpi. .‘iilyne Ra d.
103 Chip, Ihe iiiri Spurl. By Edward L. W'hebler.
10-1» The Block Schooner. By Roger Starbuck.
105 lluud-ome Harry, the Buoihlnck Detective. By C. Mon-I.
106 Night-Iinwk Kit. By Joseph E. Bfidflcr. Jr.
1!)? Jack "0 ‘le‘u Lend. iiy Edwnrd L. Wheeler.
108 Rocky ) onuinin Kit. 1%; T. C. Harhnugh.
 like Krunéiifillslnndh lay rautvnilxlnunt.
6 ran er. ' eorga . rawne. .
11 {on Bob. the King of Blinthiucku. By Inivurd LN
12 ‘he Helpless “and. By Capt. Mayne Reid.
18 rrenr-Fwe l-‘Iul,the SilontHuntcr. By! lCoomn
14 ’lne Paul. the Mountain Boy. B . \.. Limbaugh.
6 Jen wood Dick’n Double. By_ iyard L. Whuln.
116 . aboz Collin. Ski rer. By Capt. i‘. \\ inttnker.
117 l‘nnev Frank, olPé‘mlurado. By “ Buffalo Bill."
118 Win Wildfire, in. Thoroughbred. By Clumhiorrll.
119 Blonde Blll: or, Deadwood Lilck’l Hmna Blue. By Edqu
L. Wheel".
120 Gopher Gid, the Boy Trapper. By '1'. C. Hnrhmlgh. .
121 Harry Armstrong, tno Cnplnin o! the Club. By Inu-
hridge Heulyn , (.Inck Hnrkaway.)
122 The Hunt. Hunter. By Edward S. Ellln.
123 Solid Sam, the Buy Rand-Agent. By Edwnrd 1.. Main.
124 Jud? Lyneh. Jr. By T. C. Harhnugh.
25 The and Pirates. By Capt. Mayne Reid.
Blue Blaze-r or, The Brenll 0’ Buy Boy- of Rocky Bar. by
ank Dumnnt.
12? Tony Fox. tho Ferret. By Edward L. Whaaier.
128 Black Benn, Will Wildfira’a Racer. Br Clmrlel Norris.
129 Eagle Kil. flu: [my Damon. By Oil Coornen.
180 Gold Trigger. the Spwrt. Ex '1‘. C. linrbnug V.
131 A Game of Gold; or, 0 \dmmd chh . Big Strike. 3:
Edward L. Wheeler. _
152 Dulnty Lance, th- May 3.». BlendgerJr.
138 “'llddire. the lion oi the Land. liv l‘rnnk Duniont.
134 Mike Merl-v, lhe Harbor Police Boy. By Charles Morris.
185 Deadwood )1qu of Dendwood. By E. L. Wheeler.
136 Did Rube, the Hunter. By Cnpt. Hamilton Holmu.
13? Duud Rock. the Man from Texan. By G. Wo‘do Bram.
138 Bob flockett. the Boy Dodger. Hy Chas. Mun-la.
189 The Block Ginnt: DI’. Dllnly Luna in Jeopnrdy. By In.
3' Mimi-'1 n Phlli s Warn.
3 n zonn. ,v .
 19:3:an Nell, the Boy-(lir Detective. By LL. Whaler.
149 Little Texas. the Young Mun-ax". By Oil Coon]...
148 Deadly Dunk; or, Fighting Fir. with Firs. By J... 3.

Bad er. Jr.
144 Littgle Grit, (in Wild Rider. By Col. Prentlu Ing‘nhll.
145 The Tlger oanon. Br Geo. Wnidn Browno.
146 The Cattle Kin . By Fer Dunnont.
147 Nohby Nick of. tennis. By Edward L. Who-let.
148 Thunderbolt Tom. By Hurry 5t. Goorgo.
1.19 Rob Roch-u, tho Bank Runner. By Chariot Monk.
150 The Mod Miner. By G. Waldo Browne.
151 The Sea Trailer. B'Col. Pronto: lngnhII.
152 Dnnd Burke: or,Tho igen aiiiixh i’lnq. By W. mm
158 “'lld Trunk, the Buck-kin Bravo. By E. L. Who-let.
164 The Boy Trailers. By Jon. E. Badger, Jr,
155 Gold Plume, tin BoiBnnriit By Col. Prentin Ingnium.
156 Will “'lldflre in t e “'oodl. By C. him-m.
15‘? Wed Tern lo, tha Border Boy. By '1‘. C. Harbuugh.
158 Deadw Dlek‘l Doom. By E. L. Wheeler.
159 hunt-Leather Joe’l Defeat. By Philly. S. Warm.
160 {ul'nlo Billy, lhe Buy Buiiwhncker. Hy Co . P. Inng
101 lob Roche", the leumul. iiy Churles Morril. ‘
162 ittle llurrlt-ane, the Boy Captain. By Oil Coomea.
168 esdvrood Dick’s Drrnm. By E. L. Wheeler.
164- ‘ornado Tom. By T. C. Hnrhangh.
185 lhlifnlo Bill's Bet. By (hi. Prontiu lnzrahn’.
16 VIII Wildfire Wlm lnd Lanes. By Churlaa Honin-
137 Dan“! “Oek‘l Pledge. By George W. Browne.
168 Deadwood Diek’l Ward. By Edd-mi L. Whaler-
169 The Boy Ch-mnion. By Edwn'd Willelt.
170 Bob Roakett’u Fight, for Life. By Charla- Maria.

Beadle’s Pocket Librm-y in h male iy nil New-doaim.fl
«at: par copy. or unihy mail on mnip of six c-nu sub.

33ml! AND ADAMS, Pub'unnuru.
0. William Street New Yul-b

 

 

 

 

BEADLE’S  LIBRARY.

Published Every Wednesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of F’inents.

 

71 Frank Morton. the Boy Hercules. ByOIl Coomen.
72 The Ynnkee Ranger. By Edwin Emerson.
73 Dick Dinulo. Scout. By Edward S. Ellis.
74 Dandy Rock’s Scheme. Br G. W. Browne.
The Arph flutes-live. By Edwnrd L. Whuuler.
] 76 \l ill \‘l lldilre‘n l’luok. ily Charles Moms.
1 7’? Tile Boy Couuuunder. By C0]. Prentiss lngrnhnm.
73 The. Mullifll‘. Hunter. By iiurlon Snxu.
79 Dnlnt Lunoe: or, The Mystic \ nrkslnnn. By J. E. Budgen
] 80 The I oy Gold-llnnter. ilv T. (1. Harhaugh.
81 The Seupegruue lion. By Charles Morris.
85 The Dork-Skinned Scout. Ily Lieut. Co]. aneltine.
88 Jnhez Dnrt, Drtective. By 011 Crnillwfl.
u. ‘oulherwclnht, the Buy 5 y. m Edward “'ilh-lt.
] 85 Nikon Bill, the ()vt-rlnnd l’rnlm 1y Col. Prentiss lugralmm.
86 Duinty Lam-e, and "In Purl . v Jlrwpli E. Badger, Jr.
87 The ’l'rnnpl-d Tiger King. By Chnrh-n Morris.
88 The Ventrlloqulst Detective. Br F-dwmd L. Wheeler-
Hil 01d Roeh’y’n Boys. B Mnj. Slim. 5. llail.
90 film Sisnpklns, Scout. y James L. Bowen.
9! Dnndy Roek’n Rival. By Geo. “'nldo Browne.
9% Ills-Rory llnrry. By Harry fit. George. V
93 Detective Josh Grins. . :dwnrd L. Wheeler.
91 Pros cat Pete, the iln Miner. By Oil Canines.
95 The 'endertbot Trni er. By '1'. C. llnrluulgh.
96 The Dandy Detective. By Charles Morris.
1 97 Roy, the Young l'attln King. By Col. Prentiss lugrnhnm
9i! Ebony Dan‘s Mask. By Frnnk Dumoni.
99 Dictionury Nut, Detective. liy T. C. ll lvnnuh.
00 The. Twin "linemen. By Cunt. Fn ul'lck Whitlnke..
01 Dandy Dnrke’n l’nrds. By Wm. ll. hyster.
02 Tom, the 'l‘exnn Tiger. By Oll CoOmna.
08 Sam the Office Buy. By Churh-n Morris.
04 The You nz Cowboy. lly Cnl. l’rA-ntiss inmhnm.
05‘The Frontier Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler.
06 “’hite leht‘ lug: or. The Boy Ally. By T. C. llnrbnngh.
'0'? Kentuck Tulbot’n Bum]. By Capt. Mnrk Wilton.
0 'l‘rnp er Tom’s (‘untle Mystery. liy ()ll Gnomes.
09 The . enlenzer-lioy Detective. By Churles hinrr'n.
[0 The Ilunchlms'k oi‘the Mines. liv Joseph ii. Badlzer, Jr.
ll thtle Giant. and Ill! Band. Ry i’hill ) .\‘. Warne.
12 The Jinltown Sport. By Edwnrd L. heelur.
The l’irute’» Prize. By C. Dunnng Clnrk.
Dandy Dave, ofSlsantn. liv '1‘. C. Hurhnngh.

 

Gnomes.

The Cowboy Cuptssin. By Col. Prentisa ingrahnm
7 Bald Head of the Rockies.
3 The Elinor Sport. By Edwnrd 1.. Wheeler.
9 lllwk, the Detective. By Albert W. Aiken.
0 Crack-Shot Frank. By Charles Murris.
I Merle the Mlddy. By Col. Pmnlss lngmhnm.
32 Rosebud Ben’n Boyns. By Oil Conmrm.
3 Gold Conrad’s Watt-h-Dogzs. By T. (I. Hnrhmlzh.
4 Frinkv Fergus, the New York Buy. By G. L. Aiken.
5 Dick Drew, thr Miner’s Son, By Edward L. Wheeler.
6 Dukotu Dick In Chlcngo. lly Churlns Morris.
7 Merle. the Buy Cruiser. lly Col. l’rnntm lnzrnhmn.
8 The Prom-her Del-entire. By (ill Cummus.
9 "id lllle'l’l')”l Grit. By John J. Mnrnhnll.
0 Three lioy Piper-tn. By Capt. Frethu'iuk Whittaker.
l Sierrsl Suns, the Detective. By Exlwnrd L. healer.
2 Merle. Monte’u Trenuure. ily Col. Prentiss lngrsham.
3 “.00le Dover Kit. By Ensign C. D. Warren.
4 Baldy. the Miner Chief. Bv Cnpt. J. F. C. Adams.
5 Jul-k Stulnp's Cruiie. lly Roller Stnrhnck.
6 Merrn Sam’s Double. By Edward 1.. Wheeler.
7 Non-Ibo Ned Detective. By Clmrles Morris.
8 Merle l onte’u Sen-Scraper. By Col. Prentiss Ingnhul.
9 lion‘s Biz Boom. By Cnpt. Mark Wilton.
0 fihssrp Shoot Mike. By Oil Comm:-
1 Slerru Susn’n Sentence. By Edwnrd L. Wheeler.
2 The Denver Deter-live. By 1‘. C. Hnrbnngh.
3 Dlltl'll Jnn’n Dilemma. By Mn . . . Cnrsnn.
4 Merle Monte‘s Dinznlfle. By .oi. Prentiss lngrshsm.
5 lluldy’n Boy Partner. By Edwnrd 5. Ellis.
6 Dete ‘tive Keen’s Apprentice. ' By Chfl'iel Marria-
7 The irl Sport. . liy Edward L. Wheeler.
8 (Hunt Gear e’n Purd. By Buckskin Sam.
9 Rum-h Ira :- Wild Ride. By '1‘. G. Ilqrbnnrh.
50 Merle Monte’s l’nrdon. B Col. Prentiss Ingmhnrn.
51 "‘he Deni'llcteetive. Bv E4 ward “’lllett.
'Ienvor Doll’s Device. By Edward L. Wheeler.
‘l'lc ll" Tenslerfoot. By Pent. Mnrk Wilton.
ilnek l ills Ben. By May. Lewis W. Carson.
oily Jim. Detective. ‘ nrles Zilnrrls. .
ticrlo Monte’u Lane Cruise. liv Col. Prentiss Inmhnm.
5': The Boy Chlefofi’tocky Pall. *Bv Mai. 13- L. SLVrsin.
5K Denver Doll mu Deteotlve. By E. L. Wheeler.
.Ittle Foxeye, the Cnlnmdo S y By 011 Common.
kit, the corn. Boy. By Edwnr wmm.
Nude. the Sport. By '1‘. C. Hurbaunh.
Illly, the Boy Rm’er. liy Col. Prentiss lnfimham.
hump Bob’s Buoy; or, Lige, the Lignt-Houu Keeper.
y ’Cnpi. J. F. C. Adams.
Denver Doll’s Partner. > By E. L. Wheeler.

s

l

1 During Dan, the Tiling-fl“; or, The Denver Detective. By Oil
1

l

By Maj. Sum. 3. Hall.

 

Anhhsb.) njxxxr a

 

 

 

" Billy the Ru gage Boy. By Charles Morris.
66 :uy‘si Boy 015ml. By Capt. Cmnsmck. . .
Hunt. Geor e’u Keven e. By Buckskin Snm.
Mild-Shot. ssndy. By oi. Prentiss ingrnhnln.
‘he Quurtzvliie Boss. 7i Edward Willstt.
2 Denver Doll’s , ine. y . L. “header.
2?] .liuny Jim’n Terror. Bytlll Lonmas.
2?2 Hit, the Girl Detectivn. By T. C. ilnrjmngh.
273 The. Girl Rider; or, Nimble Ned’s burpme.

Bndnor, Jr. ‘ V
274 Demi Shut Dundy’n Double. lw (til. 1‘. lngmham.
275 Fred, the Ocenn Wail. ByClmrins Morris. ~
276 Deadwood Dink Trapped. By Ellwnrd L. Wheeler.
27’? The Idiot Buy Avenger. liylillwri W. Allil‘n.
2’39 Arlzonu Alf, the Minor. By T. (i. ilm'imuuh.
279 Colorado Junk, the Tiger. llv Fmdunck Dewey. ‘ 1
280 Desul Shot Dnndy’s Luni; Deal; or, Keno Kits New
Role. By (70]. Prentiss Ingrnhmn.
281 Ned, the Boy Pilot. By Jack Fnrragut. ’
282 Bunk llnwknlktrective; or, The hleslengcr Boy s Fortune.
‘ word L. W mo er.
“3 Ed By Edward Willett.

’ Kit.
2’82 giggzwfioaiiilhh’n Best Curd. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

‘ ' - ' " ’ . B Buckskin Sum.

 Digklhul‘) l I  1‘B§3Cl;(nr,l:sr3|i‘::‘r{is.

.-“  vnc' 7-.

  Dirizulnc. ily iidward 1.. Wheeler.

2949 Colorado Niuk, the Lassoist. By .‘inj. ll. B. Stoddard.

290 Rube, the Tender-foot. By Maj. E. L. St. \‘min.

291 Peacock Pete, the Lendrllle spurt. ny Alln-rt w. Aiken.

292 Joe Morey, the Night Hawk. By Jon. E. Endgm’, Jr.

298 Dwarf Jake, the Detective. ByEd. Winen.

294 Dumb Dick’s I'm-d; or, Eliza Jane, the Girl Miner. By
Edwnrd L. \theier.

295 “'hlte Wing, the Ferret Flyer. By Charles Morris.

296 Govindn, the Tiger Tamer. iiy Cnpt. F. Whittnknr.

29'? Arlzunn (Hunt. George; 0"; The iinyvus oi' Sardine-Box
City. iiy Buckskin Sum. ‘

298 Dnlny Doll’s Duals; or. Tho Trn (‘olnrmlo Psrds. By T. C
Hnrbnugh.

299 The llnilnon Detectives; or, .lnrk Sluher’s Young Pnrd.
By Hurry Enwn.

800 Deadwood Dick’s Min-ion. By Edward L. Wheeler.

$01 Dandy Duke, the Cowboy. ny Mnj. E. L. St. “Min.

802 Big Benson’s Bet. By '1'. (7. liarbnugh.

803 The Hotel 205' Detective; or, The Grand Central
Robbery. By C "E. )lnrris.

304 Bold liend’s part]; or, Creeping Cat’s Cunning.
Buckskin qun.

805 Dusky Dick’s! Duel; or, The Demon’s Troll. lily Hurry

lizard.

3003 leotier Fritz; 0r,’l‘ho Store Detective’s Decoy. By E. L.

W in- er.

 

Hy 10s. E.

By

807‘ Nick, the Boy Sport: or. Time Plucky Pmds. By Msj. E.
L. St. Vrnin.

808 Double-Fluted Mat; or, The Mystic California Giant. By
.los. E. Bridger, Jr.

309 Old Greybenrd’s Boy; or,Tht~ Girl’s Ruse. By C. Dunning
Clnr .

8l0 Kit. the Girl Captain; or, The Mad Snilor‘s Legacy, By
Ch]. i‘rentlss Ingrnham.

811 Frio Fred in Texas. By Buckskin Sum.

812 The. Detective Rand-Agent; or. The Miners 0! Sauser
City. Br E. L. Wheeler.

818 Honest Jack’s Protege. By P. S. Warns.

314 Clip, the Boy Shes-ll. By Edward Wdlet.

815 Tom, the Arizona Sport. By Mujny E.L. St. Vrnin.

816 The Street-Arab Detective. By (‘lmrles Morris.

81’? Buckskin Ben of Texan. By Buckskin Snm.

818 Colorado Charlie’s Detective Dosh. By E. L.Whesler.

819 Il‘rllkv Frank in Idnho. By Roger Starbuck,
Ready February it).

320 Cool Sam’s Girl I’m-d. By T. C. Harbnugh.
Ready February ‘26.

821 Billy, the Kid from Frisco.
Reedy Mnrch 5.

Beadle's Pocket Libs-my is for sale by all Newsdesim, In
cent! per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents ouch.
BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers,
98 William Etreet, New York.

By J. C. Cowdrick.