Spring-Heel'd Jack, The Terror of London — page 240: what you’re looking at

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

242 It be arum go; but [ll tan his hide waggon, . rascal ! for him when he comes back, the dang T will.” By the time he had uttered this, and the horses had come to a quiet stand, Roger Stokes stood by the tailboard of the vehicle, and casting his eyes upon the canvas that fell from broad hoops to the panelling of the waggon, he staggered back asif he had been shot, for there, peering from the opening in the centre of the covering, was a hideous face, on which the bright moonbeams played. Roger Stokes was a man possessing great physical strength and power, and no ordinary amount of brute courage, but the sight of the hideous mask, litup in the pale, spectral light of the moon, drove the very blood from his heart, and, for a time, completely deprived him of all power to speak or act. Jack enjoyed his terror for some few seconds, then, extending his claw-gloved hand towards him, he said— “Roger Stokes!” At the mention of his name the man stag- gered still further back, and, if possible, his terror increased. | Surely, thought the countryman, he must be some supernatural being, or how could he know his name ? Jack had learned it from the sickly youth, who had learned it from the waggoner himself in their conversation. His hand shook so that he could scarce hold the whip, his knees knocked together, and his teeth chattered loudly. ‘“ Roger Stokes!” said Jack again. But Roger Stokes could not answer. He could only look with a fascinated yet fright- ened stare upon the face in the centre of the canvas. | ‘* Come here,” said Jack. Roger obeyed, by retreating still further ; and the clattering of his large teeth rang out clear and loud on the night air, : “And this is the fellow,’ thought “Jack, “whom the poor young man dreaded would assault me. Why he hasn’t the courage to raise his hand.” ) _Flinging the canvas back, Jack made a pre- tence of leaping from the waggon. This action had the effect of arousing Roger, He uttered a whining cry and essayed to fly, but his limbs refusing %o carry him a single step, a deep groan escaped him, and he sank down upon his knees in abject terror. | Jack saw that he would have little difficulty in doing as he liked with the countryman, but he resolved to make the fellow believe that he was certainly not a human being he had to deal with. “ Roger Stokes,’’ he said again, looking down with contempt upon the affrighted wretch, “ you are a callous-hearted scoundrel.”’ A. groan from Roger’s throat followed this remark, and a supplicatine look from Roger’s eyes was fixed, pleadingly, on Jack’s mask. “Yes, Roger, you are a hard-hearted, un- feeling rascal. Well fed, healthy, and strong, you ought to feel pity for the weak and hungry ; SPRING-HEEL’D JACK; THE TERROR OF LONDON. and assault with your brute strength the powerless and careworn wretch who asks aid at your hands. Roger Stokes, you are no longer fit to live ; you must give place to better and more feeling men. You must come with me,” Again Jack pretended to get out of the waggon. 7 ‘“No—no—no!” cried Roger, fear lending him strength now, and leaping to his feet as if the point of a sword had been applied to his back. “You must come. earth. where.” And Jack pointed downwards as he spoke. “Qh lor’! oh lor’! groaned Roger. “ What shall I do to be saved ? ” “Saved?” said Jack. “ Why, you are worth- ess.”’ | You are not fit for this You must go with me—you know “Oh no, doant’e say that, measter devil— doant’e say that. I bean’tabad man. It be some mistake—some mistake.” — ‘“T never make mistakes,” said Jack. ‘ I say you are a cruel, unfeeling rascal, who can refuse to a poor, weak, half-starved fellow- creature a lift over the road he is powerless to travel from -illness and want. So no more words. Better men must take your place here, and you must come with me.’ So saying, Jack .sprang out of the waggon, and alighted right before the terrified waggoner, who, with a shriek, tottered back several paces along the hard and dusty road. Another spring, and Jack was by his side, and his hand on the other’s arm. “Murder! murder! Oh, lor”! cried the man. ‘“Do—oan’t! Oh, doan’t! ” ‘“ Why should I spare you, Roger Stokes ?” said Jack: ; ‘“I—I thought he was a thief,’ said the man. ‘* My waggon’s been robbed afore, and my measter’s made me pay for it. I thought he would have robbed me, upon my soul I did! or I'd have given him a lift. I bean’ta hard-hearted man, sir.”’ “Well, hark you. The lad lies down the road on the spot where you threw him—a cowardly act for a powerful man like you. Go back with your team and pick him up, if you would escape me. Carry him to London in your wagegon.” * 5 ane ‘“Yes—yes. I will—I will,” said Stokes, quickly. , a “And hark you! Hurry on your horses, for he is anxious to get to the metropolis.” “ Twill.” ‘Pick up your whip, then, and do my bidding, or it will be the worse for you,” said Jack, pointing to the whip which had fallen from the man’s neryeless grasp. ‘“T’ll do as you wish, so as you don’t interfere with I,” said the man, as he raised his whip from the dust. ‘You must,” said Jack. ‘“ And what’s more, J intend to see it done. So go to your horses.” The waggoner obeyed, walking backwards, so as to keep his face to Jack, whom he feared would pounce upon him. but instead of so doing you insult the wretched Roger turned the animals, and as the lum” COomIcbookKs.com oh, lor’ !” . ‘ | .