Dan The Newsboy 40

Dan The Newsboy 40

Accordingly he tried to play an air popular enough at the time, but

made bad work of it.

 

"Stop him! stop him!" exclaimed the German, who had a better musical ear

than the Irishman. "Here, lend me your fiddle, boy."

 

He took the violin, and in spite of his inebriety, managed to play a

German air upon it.

 

"Shure you bate the boy at his own trade," said the Irishman. "You must

be dhry. What'll you have now?"

 

The German indicated his preference, and the Irishman called for whisky.

 

"What'll you have, Johnny?" he asked, addressing Dan.

 

"I no drink," answered our hero, shaking his head.

 

"Shure you're an Italian wonder, and it's Barnum ought to hire you."

 

"I no understand English," said Dan.

 

"Then you're a haythen," said Pat Moriarty.

 

He gulped down the whisky, and finding it more convenient to sit than to

stand, fell back upon a settee.

 

"I wish Althea would come in," thought Dan.

 

At that moment a heavy fall was heard in the room overhead, and a

child's shrill scream directly afterward.

 

"Something's happened to my wife," muttered Donovan. "She's drunk

again."

 

He hurried up stairs, and the German followed. This gave Dan an excuse

for running up, too.

 

Mrs. Donovan had been drinking more copiously than usual. While in this

condition she imprudently got upon a chair to reach a pitcher from an

upper shelf. Her footing was uncertain, and she fell over, pitcher in

hand, the chair sharing in the downfall.

 

When her husband entered the room she was lying flat on her back,

grasping the handle of the pitcher, her eyes closed, and her breathing

stertorious. Althea, alarmed, stood over her, crying and screaming.

 

"The old woman's taken too much," said Donovan. "Get up, you divil!" he

shouted, leaning over his matrimonial partner. "Ain't you ashamed of

yourself, now?"

 

Mrs. Donovan opened her eyes, and stared at him vacantly.

 

"Where am I?" she inquired.

 

"On your back, you old fool, where you deserve to be."

 

"It's the whisky," murmured the fallen lady.

 

"Of course it is. Why can't you drink dacent like me? Shure it's a purty

example you're settin' to the child. Ain't you ashamed to lie here in a

hape before them gintlemen?"

 

This called Althea's attention to the German and Dan. In spite of Dan's

disguise, she recognized him with a cry of joy.

 

"Oh, Dan! have you come to take me away?" she exclaimed, dashing past

Donovan, and clasping her arms round the supposed Italian.

 

[Illustration: "Oh, Dan! Have you come to take me away?" Althea

exclaimed.]

 

"Hillo! what's up?" exclaimed Donovan, looking at the two in surprise.

 

"Oh, it's my brother Dan," exclaimed Althea. "You'll take me away, won't

you, Dan? How funny you look! Where did you get your fiddle?"

 

"So that's your game, my young chicken, is it?" demanded Donovan,

seizing our hero roughly by the shoulder. Then pulling off Dan's hat, he

added: "You're no more Italian than I am."

 

Dan saw that it would be useless to keep up the deceit any longer. He

looked Donovan full in the face, and said, firmly:

 

"You are right, Mr. Donovan, I have come here for my sister."

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

 

UNPLEASANT QUARTERS.

 

 

Donovan's red face turned fairly purple with rage.

 

"Well, I'll be blowed!" he said, adding an oath or two. "You're a bold

little pup! You dare to insult me! Why, I could crush you with my little

finger."

 

"I have not insulted you," said Dan. "I have only come for my sister."

 

"I don't know anything about your sister. So you can go about your

business."

 

"That little girl is my adopted sister," said Dan, pointing to Althea.

"Ask her if she doesn't know me."

 

"That is my daughter, Katy Donovan," said the saloon keeper.

 

"No, I am not," said Althea, beginning to cry. "I want to go away with

my brother Dan."

 

"Shut up, you little jade!" said Donovan, roughly. "Mrs. Donovan," (by

this time she was on her feet, looking on in a dazed sort of way), "is

not this our little Katy?"

 

"Shure it is," she answered.

 

"You see, young man, you're mistaken. You can leave," and Donovan waved

his hand triumphantly.

 

"That's too thin, Mrs. Donovan!" said Dan, provoked. "That don't go

down. I can bring plenty of proof that Althea was until a week since

living with my mother."

 

"That for your proof!" said Donovan, contemptuously snapping his

fingers.

 

"I know who stole her, and who brought her to this house," continued

Dan.

 

Donovan started. The boy knew more than he had expected.

 

"The same man has been here to-day," added Dan.

 

"You lie!" retorted Donovan, but he looked uneasy.

 

"You know that I tell the truth. How much does he pay you for taking

care of the girl?"

 

"Enough of this!" roared the saloon keeper. "I can't waste my time

talkin' wid you. Will you clear out now?"

 

"No, I won't, unless Althea goes with me," said Dan, firmly.

 

"You won't, then! We'll see about that," and Donovan, making a rush,

seized Dan in his arms, and carried him down stairs, despite our hero's

resistance.

 

"I'll tache you to come here insultin' your betters!" he exclaimed.

 

Dan struggled to get away, but though a strong boy, he was not a match

for a powerful man, and could not effect his deliverance. The Irishman

already referred to was still upon the settee.

 

"What's up, Donovan?" he asked, as the saloon-keeper appeared with his

burden. "What's the lad been doin'?"

 

"What's he been doin', is it? He's been insultin' me to my face--that's

what the Donovans won't stand. Open the trap-door, Barney."

 

"What for?"

 

"Don't trouble me wid your questions, but do as I tell you. You shall

know afterward."

 

Not quite willingly, but reluctant to offend Donovan, who gave him

credit for the drinks, Barney raised a trap-door leading to the cellar

below.

 

There was a ladder for the convenience of those wishing to ascend and

descend, but Donovan was not disposed to use much ceremony with the boy

who had offended him. He dropped him through the opening, Dan by good

luck falling on his feet.

 

"That's the best place for you, you young meddler!" he said. "You'll

find it mighty comfortable, and I wish you much joy. I won't charge you

no rint, and that's an object in these hard times--eh, Barney?"

 

"To be sure it is," said Barney; "but all the same, Donovan, I'd rather

pay rint up stairs, if I had my choice!"

 

"He hasn't the choice," said Donovan triumphantly. "Good-by to you!" and

he let the trap fall.

 

"What's it all about now, Donovan?" asked Barney.

 

"He wanted to shtale my Katy," said Donovan.

 

"What, right before your face?" asked Barney, puzzled.

 

"Yes, shure! What'll you take to drink?" asked Donovan, not caring to go

into particulars.

 

Barney indicated his choice with alacrity, and, after drinking, was

hardly in a condition to pursue his inquiries.