Old Specie, the Treasury Detective; or, The Harbor Lights of New York — page 56: what you’re looking at

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

48 a OLD SPECIE. She gave a yellow light that made things look weird and uncanny. Looking out, Old Specie saw. they were traveling along a country road. . Once the vehicle stopped. The driver got down to fix something about the horses’ harness, after which he deliberately extin- guished the two side lights of the coach. They did not need them for light now, and there was no law to compel their burning here. The journey was resumed. It seemed lucky, indeed, that the animals drawing them were both fresh and strong, else they would never have done the work. ‘‘Nearly there,’’ said Ben, at length. ‘“Glad to hear it,’’ yawned his companion. The words of the former were verified. In about ten minutes the vehicle turned aside, passed under some trees, and then the voice of the driver said: “Gents, we’ve arrived.” Ben Bolt opened a door and sprang out. “Come, bring the gal. We ain’t got much time to lose, Caddy. Fetch her along.” Again the detective tenderly raised the drooping form of the girl and carried her. They were close to a hedge. Ben walked along this until he came toa place where there was an opening. His movements were not haphazard—they be- trayed the fact that he had been here before, and knew the lay of the land. Through this opening in the hedge he passed. “Beware of the wire fence—it’s broken, but apt ter scratch your shins,” 7 co “EComicbooks eS