The Child of Waterloo, or, The Horrors of the Battle-Field — page 53: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

60 THE CHILD OF WATERLOO, traveler placed his hand under the pillow on which he had slept, and drew forth a pocket-pistol, which, without any further ceremony, he discharged full at the midnight robber’s head. The report in a room, and at such a still hour of the night, was tremendous. The mendicant thought he was hit, but a moment’s reflection convinced him that although the bullet must have passed very near indeed to his face, it had missed him. Then, withashout of rage, he rushed upon the young man before he could rise from the bed, in much the same manner as he had rushed upon the dog, and with the same knife he inflicted a deep stab in his breast. With a groan the traveler sank back, weltering in his blood on the bed. To leave the room was now the work of another in- stant; he knew that the pistol-shot must alarm every one in the inn, and that his only chance of safety consisted in the rapidit with which he could leave it. Still ne would not forsake his idea of revenge against the hostler, for the little dispute be had had with him, aud as he passed the door of No. 6, he threw into the room the knife covered with blood, and several of the little articles he had taken from the sleeping chamber of the traveler, and reached the back door of the inn before anybody was fairly up. He opened it in a moment, and passed out into the open air, carrying his shoes with him. These he put on quickly, and then took to flight with all the speed he could. He speedily reached the village High street; but here he found that a new danger awaited him, for a number of men conduct- ing horses to some cattle fair, were passing through the place, and just as he appeared among them, some window of the inn was flung open, and the loud discordant springing of a rattle fell upon his ears. — ‘¢Some thief,” cried one of the men, as he made a dart at the mendicant. ‘‘ There he goes.” The teggar eluded him, and dashed across the village in the direction of the churchyard, cursing his evil destiny that had exposed him to such a danger, when a few moments earlier, or a few moments later, would have altogether avoided it. As many men as could be spared from the care of the horses, ran after the flying mendicant, without having the least idea of what he had done, or indeed being quite sure that he had any- thing to do with the circumstance that had induced the spring- ing of the rattle. They were swift runners, and reached the wicket-gate of the churchyard a moment after he bad passed through it. They saw him threading his way among the grave- stones, and suddenly make, what appeared to them, a headlong dash at the very wall of the church, and from that moment he disappeared. and no trace of him could be found. CHAPTER XI. ‘¢ WHat a trouble!” said Troubled Tom, as he awoke from be- ing actually trodden upon by the mendicant, in his rapid flight from the inn, after committing the dreadful deed of blood he comicbooks. com