Beadle's Half Dime Library: Seth Jones; or, The Captives of the Frontier — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

ey Z LZ GE Zi. eX \ | ; S \) x “INS NO $2.50 a year. Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., as Second Class Mail Matter. Copyrighted in 1880 by BEADLE AND ADAMS, June 8, 18580, Single PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Price, Vol. VI. Number. No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents. No. 150. Lance and Lasso; OR, THE CHILDREN OF THE OHAGO, A Tale of Four Boys’ Summer Vacation on the Fampas of Buenos Ayres, BY CAPT. FREDERICK WHITT AUTHOR OF ‘‘ THE WILD-HORSE HUNTERS,”’ “ THE Siig CAT,” *‘ THE DUMB PAGE,’’ ETC., ETC. ————\h CHAPTER L THE FOUR COMRADES. Four lads, ranging from fourteen to seventeen years of age, were sitting on their trunks in one of the dormitories of the ‘‘ Tusculum Military Academy,” discussing a grave project. ‘* Now, fellows,’ said Jack Curtis, the eldest but one, ‘‘you know to-morrow’s our last day in school Two oi us are going away for good and all from the old shebang, and won’t eat any more of old Wol- cott’s spider puddings. Now, why can’t you two other fellows get your folks to send you with us? It'll be prime fun, you bet! andif you must come back to school at the end of the holidays, at least ou’ll have a better time than you ever had before. anuel’s father says he’d like to take the whole school with him. My father says J can go, and I guess we can get your folks to consent. What d'ye say?’ "My father wouldn’t let me,’ sighed Louis Le- doux, the little Pinch ered, curly- eaded Louisi- anian. (The boys all called him “ Kitty,’ from hiz soft ways and delicate face.) ‘‘He says I’m not strong enough; and mother declares she’ll keep me home till I’m twenty. Hey! fellows, isn't itashame? Guess [ll run away, when you fellows go.”’ Tom Bullard, who was whittling out a boat with cus knife, looked up. The boys all called him ug” “You hain’t got spunk enough, Kitty,’’ he remark. ed, dryly. “ As for me, I hain’t got no one to keer what I do, and I’m a-goin’ with Manuel and Jack. If my uncle hears of it, guess he'll be glad to let me go. °*Twon’t cost him much, But this runnin’ away ain’t what it’s cracked up to be. What a lammis’ the old feller gave me once, for tryin’ it on!” Tom Bullard was a Western boy, an orphan, iz charge of an uncle, who owned a great ‘“‘ranch " in Southern Kansas. Tom had learned to ride almost before he coul4 remember, and his greatest trial at school was hey- ing no horse, for, like all boys, he loved a horse, Be was rather short, but very broad and sturdy. He was a quiet fellow, too; you seldom heard of hiz fighting. But, for all that, he was feared by ti bullies of the schoo!, none of whom liked to med with ‘“‘Plug.”’ Of course there was a reason for this. No boy ever gets feared by a bully without having done something to deserve it; and Plug’s reputatioa dated from his celebrated battle with ‘‘ Dutchy,”’ Now, ‘‘Dutchy”’ was a big, overgrown lout of a boy, of German parents. His real name was Charley Alker, and he was in the habit of bullying the smaller boys unmercifully, being stronger fhan they, A boy who does that generally turns out to bea coward, when he is set on by his equals; and so it proved with Charley Alker. One day Tom heard a great noise, and found ‘*Dutchy *’ heating littie Louis Ledoux with a base ball bat, while poor ‘Kitty’? was crying bitterly. Without a single word, ‘‘Plug’’ flew at Alker, whe was a head taller than himself, snatched the bat from him, threw it away, and then ‘‘gailed inte Dutchy,’’ rough-and-tumble fashion. Before Alker knew where he was, the Western lad had him on hig back, and punished him in such style that ‘* Dutchy was compelled to scream for mercy. That Tom’s first ard bat SE eC OHMIC ROO KS CO inl \ \\ \ i a \Y ¥ * fi "I \ Rt \ 4 \\ iH H i if 3} . \ m \h Ni Taipei tte. ~ ’ Hy a Are ee a R y . ‘ f 3 f it , “xy a i 1" ' ; HM 5 a We : i \ My : T Bt ! i : ‘ od i tte im Wii ‘ “OATCH ME IF YOU CAN, SLOW-COACH” HE SHOUTED. a re es