Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1899-10-01
CHAPTER XXXVII.
A KNOCK-DOWN BLOW.

"A h1NOOh-DOWA ~ DIOW'
Doggy Dick, sure as l am Harry
Harding!" So exclaims the captive,
not aloud but under breath-a quick
instinct admonishing him he must not
make himself known to the ci-devant
game keeper poacher, dog fighter, gar
rotter, and, finally, convicted felon. For
the last he had heard of the versatile
villain was being in Clerkenwell peni-
tertiary, under sentence for some crime
of later date than that of which he had
himself hindered the committal.
How the man has got out of his Eng
his sentence or by goal-breaking-an
how found his way to Italy, are all
mysteries to his countryman, who does
not attempt solving them now. Enough
to see the scoundrel there, cOnsorting
with brigands, an active member of
their band
Any apprehension Henry Harding
may have hitherto felt was light COM
pared with that experienced now. For
now is he sensible of real and serious
danger. Corvino, despite his jesting,
might be ever so much in earest; still,
as already said, he was not likely to
care for splitting his captiVe's blood;
whereas Doggy Dick will thirst for it.
With him it is altogether different.
Sure will he remember the repeated
chastisements received at that captive's
hand, and equally sure demand retalia-
ton. Even at this moment his former
master recalls the bitter threat in the
cover, in that day when his finger was
damaged. The man who made it now
stands beside, holding over him the
power of life and death-with that I'M
settled record, and others added sincel
All this passes through the brain of
the young Englishman quick as a flash
of lightning; though not hot, but,
on the contrary, chilling the blood
within his veins. For ne knows he
need look for no grace from his fellow
countryman, long since hardened by
crime, and. no doubt, ere this with
hands imbTued in blood. If recognized
by the outlaw, it will go hard with him
and his only hope is in preserving his
incognito, which he determines, if pos
sible, to-day.
Lest his voice betray him. he no
more courts conversation. but shuns
it, and for the time remains silent.
Luckily his guards seem no longer to
care for it. After rifiing his pockets
and finding only the bag of tobacco,
they feel no further interest in him,
but. pipes in mouth, return to talking
over their own affairs.
Still, he cannot escape from a keen,
depressing anxiety During the re-
mainder of the night, in the darkness,
he may be safe from recognition, but
what when the morning light shines
upon his face? Then will the ruffian
see, and as surely recognize it. 1t is
a year since they met, and Henry
Harding's beard has somewhat grown.
but not enough to conceal features the
@amekeeper has such reason to re-
member. a forgetfulness that would
now stand the prisoner in stead, but of
which he has not the slightest hope.
While thus rejecting. in fear of the
suns light, he hears what makes him
apprehensive of a light still nearer
that of the campfire.
Its gettin' a deal chillier," remarks
the man he is thinking about, with a
shrug of his shoulders Strikes me,
Jacopo, we'll both be frostbit fore our
turn O. guardkeepin's over That Tai
ian wine don't warm me morn ivy 'twar
soda water. l only weesh 'twar that.
W a gill O. brandy int, or even were't
pot o. Bass bitter. Theer be some
substance in them to keep coye's in
ards from turnin' into icicles."
True" assents Jacopo. @'Tis a