2
DEADER ’N A
MACKEREL.
BY JAMES M. FEILOM.
“Bay, parduer, kin l see you a
minute?”
The winner looked up from his
seat at t he faro table, met t he quick
meaning (»f the other’s eye and the
slight movement of his head to
ward the door, and rose reluc
tantly.
The dealer resented the inter
ruption with an angry scowl, and
grumbled audibly. The player
transferred the gold and silver to
bis pocket in a careless way. Then
he walked out.
As t he door closed upon t he bois
terous songnnd laughter, he asked
im patiently:
" \v PH, wnai s up:
“ Your nameSi Barnes?Thought
so. Well, 'Screw' Cameron's here
from Seven Tanks a lookin' for
‘Stand-off’ Billy Todall, not Si
Barnes, thet’s all. Sabe?”
Todall drew up liis shoulders
with a little shiver and plunged
liis hands to the depths of his over
alls’ pockets.
“Ilow long since yer seen him?”
he questioned, carelessly.
“Ten minutes ago, in the Para
dox. There were three with him;
deputies, I expect.”
A short pause followed.
“Yer a stranger in these parts,
] reckon?”
The informant noddl'd. “How
came yer to know my name, < hen?”
For a time the man did not reply,
but regarded the other with a
keen, smiling expression of face.
In the soft, bright moonlight. To
dall noted the tall, angular frame
of the man, his well-greased boots,
jingling spurs, t he coinciding reck
lessness of manner and speech, ev
erything—and knew him.
“It’s all right, 1 dessay,” finally
answered the stranger, “if 1 holds
out agin answerin’ thet, pardner.
I gives you warnin’, thet's suffi
cient S-h-h-h! They're coinin’!
Drop! There!”
Quickly, and following the direc
tion indicated, Todall sprang into
the ditch, which had been dug for
the grading of the foundation of
the saloon, and crawled beneath
the small foot-bridge which
spanned it.
With easy nonchalance, bis com
panion yawned slightly, stretched
painfully, drew out liis large, open
faced time-piece, and by the light
through the glazed door consult
ed it.
Three men turned the corner of
the building. The foremost one, a
stout, intrepid looking individual
with a “horsetail” mustache,
paused.
“Well, 1 Jonahue,” he asked, in a
deep, low voice, “find him?”
“Find nothing,” responded the
man on the foot bridge, in a dis
gusted sort of way.
“Blame it, lie’s here, ain’t he?
Sumner said Jie spoke to him not a
quarter of an hour ago. He
oughter sabe. He’s been liis side
kicker from Tombstone, and lie's
squealed before—that 1 know—to
save hisself.”
Donahue shrilled his shoul
ders, and coolly reentered the sa
loon. He was not disposed to
quarrel with the exasperated sher
iff. \\ ith a muttered imprecation,
the latter followed with his two
deputies. Pausing at the bar they
lingered over their liquor.
Maudlin shouts and curses pro
ceeded front the four cowboys of
tin* “L” ranch ns they swung their
partners in wild confusion to the
rollicking strain of a plain qua
drille. A high strung liddle and
strumming guitar‘'tore off” bar
after bar of two fourth and six
eighth time, with a celerity and
abandon that would inspire a
. Quaker.
1 >on a hue picked his way t hrough
the crowd. Imprudently he halted
at the faro table and silently stud
ied t he play.
The dealer drew out the last
card from his metal box with a
moist thumb, cut, then deftly shuf
fled the pack. Concluding, he
looked up.
Almost instantly his gaze cen
tered on Donahue.
“Huh!” he exclaimed, with soirn
disdain. “I expert you made a few
beans by yer steerin’ the young fel
ler off with a full pocket. You’re
clever, you are!”
The deputy flushed slightly.
The crowd about the table were
all strangers, and looked upon him
with the cool, brazen curiosity of
strangers, which, from its inten
sity, mutely called for his answer.
“Oh, 1 don’t know,” he quietly
replied, "the lad’s a friend o’ mine,
an’ gamin’ ain’t his trump card. If
he's lucky muff to make a w hinin'
I considers it my dooty to see that
he holds it.”
There was a short interval of si
lence.
Again the cards were cut. 1 ins
time the dealer replaced them.
Surveying the deputy with a sus
picious gaze, lie grinned malicious
ly, then spoke:
“A friend, eh? A friend to
‘Stand-off* BillTodall? The bandit
from up Lomu Prieta way? The
kid what put the old feller out o’
bis’ness in Llano Amarillo jest las’
week? He, he! Yer’d better not
preach yer friendship ennywhere
near where Sheriff Cameron 'll git
wind of it. lie, he, lie.”
The "look-out” sitting on the
stool upon the raised platform be
side him bent over and whispered
in his ear. Tin* dealer started,
and his face brightened.
He grasped the revolver from
the table, and as Donahue turned
away, arose.
"Jest a minute, stranger.”
The deputy looked around,
flushed slightly, then nervously
faced the man.
"Yer don’t get off thet easy, I'll
gar'untee. Say, Screw! Oh, Cam
eron—”
A single bullet silenced him.
Ciiviuga funny little cry, liis weap
on struck the card box and shat
tered it as he dropped dead to the
floor.
On the instant pandemonium
reigned.
Noisy cowboys, maudlin women,
“bar-keep,” excepting the sheriff
and his deputies, all dropped flat
with sudden soberness and fright,
upon the dirty floor.
But the fusillade did not come.
Who fired? None knew.
A tiny cloud of blue smoke hov
ered unobserved at the window—
then melted in tin* night air.
An Indian wriggled, snake-like,
at the farther end of the room,
gained the rear door and bounded
over the moon lit space for the
shadow of a near-by house.
* A slight form arose from behind
a large "float” bowlder in his path,
grabbed the fleeing man's shoul
der, and whirled him to the
ground. He lay half dazed.
“Shut up t hat, now," ordered his
assailant, in a low, evil way, as the
Indian whimpered pleadingly; "is
thet varmint yonder dead?”
The other nodded. He was too
panic stricken for speech.
Jerking him to his feet, the lit
tle man booted him aside and
walked rapidly away.
When he reached his destina
tion, a hundred yards or so from
his late adventure, he was on «.
run
A ‘‘palomino’’ pony was teth
ered to the porch posts of a can
1 ina.
Swinging into the saddle, lie lin
gered just long enough to coil the
hair-rope, then dashed down the
street.
The moon was high. He esti
mated the hour as midnight,
“there-or abouts.” and gauging
the object of his visit by the time,
he drew rein at a tiny cabin on the
outskirts of the camp.
Dismounting, lie ’imbed the
steps and rapped with the butt of
his weapon; once, then twice, then
once again.
Almost immediately a feminine
voice called:
“That you. Si?”
“Yep.”
The bar was raised with a dole
ful creak and the door opened. A
pretty young woman welcomes
him in.
He entered with a dash of gal
lantrv, native, one might say, t<
the reckless spirit of the accolent
The woman paled s lightly, ther
flushed. Her face, in the lamp
light, bore traces of the dissipa
tion so common to her class.
The man's eves were upon her,
flittering with something of their
old passion, vet coldly wanting in
softness.
“Myrt,” he said, slowly, “there's
somet hiug I’d like to tell yer.”
“No, no, not to-night, Si,” she
pleaded, hastily; “the hour’s late;
besides I know. I regret; the past
haunts me now; it always does.
Mv happiest moments are my bit
terest. Don't smirk, though 1 de
serve it. You were all I could have
desired, then. You meant well.
Oh, Si. I could never go back. The
old home is but a memory; the
memory seems but a dream—and
it's past.” Her manner changed;
a bitter laugh sounded strangely
enough. “Besides, Lew Forrest
makes money.”
Todall raised his hand.
“Thet's w hat Icoine for.”
He rolled his cigaratteand lit it.
She waited.
‘•lie’s dead,” lie said.
‘‘Dead!” Slu* staggered speech
less against the wall.
“Who did it?”
ITe did not immediately reply,
but smiled easily. Then as she
seemed not to comprehend:
“She done it,” and he cast his
weapon upon the table. “Killed
‘m deader 'n a mackerel, too. I
never knowed what it wuz before
to drop a man you't got a grudge
agin. 1 feel that a way, thet 1
f’ould do it a score o' times.”
Arising, he laughed hoarsely,
hilariously, in his triumph.
The woman was too dazed, too
terrified to answer, but fell like a
stricken creature upon the floor,
from where she stared in pitiful
stupidity.
Finally lie reseated himself, his
usual composure returned, and si
lent ly watched her.
For a time she did not move.
When she did. her torpid energy
was aroused to sudden life, and
she arose like a tigress at bay, her
eyes flashing in deepest scorn and
hatred, which, ere she spoke, van
ished before the regard she bore
him.
“Oh. Pi. why did you do it ?” she
could only ask.
“Stand-off” Bill Todall, alias Si
Barnes, the cool, deliberate actor
of a hundred crimes, hesitated.
His lips trembled. N\ by lie knew
not.
Perhaps he respected her emo
tions. Or was it thoughts of by
gone days?
Perhaps he realized his victory
and shrank from conquering.
Nevertheless he paused, and as
she took his hand in the quiet of
that Arizona night, and gazed in
tin* same fond, yearning way, lie
felt that though hunted, alone, a
wanderer of the desert plain and
rocky mesa, lie had still a friend;
one who though once tried, had
fallen, would never fall again.
He looked into her eyes; then
softly said:
“lb- were yer father, Mvrt—I
jest had to do it." — Overland
Monthly.
RAILWAY STATION PARTING
Pr.thetic Leave-Taking of a White
Boy and His Little Black
Skinned Chum.
‘•Loitering in the Pennsylvania
rai way station one evening last
we- said a Washington man to
a h i ;ir reporter, “I was witness to
a little incident which had about it
equal parts of humor and pathos,
bur which convinced me to a cor
taintv that between a certain
couple of little boys—one black
and the of her white—t here was no
; in,:e <-f race dissension.
“As 1 could easily gather from
the surrounding scenes the family
to which tin1 white lad belonged
were about to go on a distant jour
ney.
“The black boy and his pale
faced chum came into the station
hand in hand. There seemed to be
a sort of David and Jonathan af
fection between them.
“Well, the time came to board
the train and the two had to bo
1 separated. Then there was a
• howl that might have been heard
i for blocks. The youngsters
■ rushed into each other's arms and
• exchanged innumerable kisses. I
watched the entire proceeding,
and when the train started saw
the little white boy with his head
out of the car window, while the
poor little darky, crying with all
his might, looked as helpless and
forlorn as a mariner marooned on
a desert island.
‘‘1 felt sincerely sorry for him
when he was led away by some la
dies and gentlemen who were also
taking leave of the departing fam
ily.”
Wonderful Squirrel.
Several ruralites were intently
watching an electric fan in a
Chestnut street store window the
other day, and to the amazement
of a bystander the one said to the
other: “flee! but that must be a
wonderful squirrel when he can
travelaround at a speed likethat! ’
-—Philadelphia Press.
Charitable View.
Romantic* Rose—I wonder if
Tom threw himself :it Daisy s feet
when they became engaged?
Sarcastic Sin*—Of course I don t
know, but I'm offering odds that
she threw herself at his head.—
Chicago Daily New*.
THE STURDY LITTLE JAP.
Although Small in Stature He Gives
the Impression of Being
Very Hardy.
—
Little*! The idea that Japan is
a land of little jieopleisat the best !
a half-truth, and therefore doubly |
misleading. The average Jap we
see in Europe gives no fair idea of
the physique of his people. He
nearly always belongs to the pro
fessional classes. Now, the profes
sional and prosperous Jap is, one
must admit, as a rule small and of
apparently little stamina. He
gives on#1 the same impression as
does the Paris boulevardierof hav
ing frittered away his manhood on
worthless things. But lu* no more
represents the average man of his
people than does theboulevardier
represent the French peasant,
says t he London Mail.
The average Japanese man,
while not tall, gives one the im
pression of being probably the
hardiest man on earth. He lives
jierpetually in the open air and on
the simplest food. His home con
sists of paper screens, which never
shut out the air wholly, and are
always open a great part of the
day.
lie is hardy because lu* has been
inured to the most extreme dis-i
comfort since infamy. He does
not know what comfort is. Hi*;
home has practically no furniture, I
Matting, bedding tno bed) and a.
tray for food supply his wants. In
a land cold beyond belief over it
large part of t lieyear. he never hits
it coal tire, but warms himself over
;i box holding ;t few fragments of
burning charcoal.
CLOUDS EIGHT MILES HIGH
Peculiarities of Great Masses When
Gathering Forces for a
Thunderstorm.
A great emnulous thumlerhead
Houd. towering up on the horizon
like a huge flamboyant iceberg, is
often higher than the highest Alps
would be if they were piled on top
of t he Himalayas.
It is not unusual for Ihese
clouds to measure five, six, and
even eight miles from their flat,
dark base, hovering a mile or two
above the world, to t heir rounded, j
glistening summit, splendid in the |
sunlight. And in these eight miles
the changes of temjierature are as
great as those over many thou-!
s<md miles of the earth’s surface.l
Ihese clouds contain strata of
temperature, narrow' belts of
freezing cold alternating with
hiige distances of rainy mist and
f i °zen snow and ice part ieles.
Hailstones, which are formed
from a snow particle that falls
from the up] t strata and' is frozen '
lmrd in the' ee/ing belt and coat-!
1 ^ "iHiadh 1 ic< on t he wet belt, ■
l< aid with a series of;
'n H format ion, showing j
that they ha passed through this
'loud strata more
1 1,ln "n''(‘ < their way from the
upper air to earth.
Thedford’s Black-Draught comes
nearer regulating the entire bjstem
and keeping the body in health than
any other medicine made. It is
always ready in any emergency to
treat ailments that are frequent m
any family, such as indigestion,
biliousness, colds, diarrhoea, ami
stomach aches. ,
Thedford's Black-Draught is the
standard, never-failing remedy for
stomach, bowel, liver and kidney
troubles. It is a cure for the domes
tic ills which so frequently summon
the doctor. Itis as good for children
as it is for grown persons. A dose of
this medicine every day will soon
cure the most obstinate case of dys
pepsia or constipation, and when
taken as directed brings quick relief.
Danville, 111., Dec. 23,1902.
Thedford’s Black-Draught 1ms been our
family doctor for lire years and we want
no other. When any of us feel badly we
take a dose and are all right In twelve
hours. We have spent lots of money for
doctor bills, but gel along just as well
with Black-Draught. jha li. BADKK.
Ask your dealer for a package of
Thedford's Black-Draught and if he
does not keep it send 25c. to The Chatta
nooga Medicine Co., Chattanooga, Tenn.
and a package will be mailed to you.
SEE
fHAT
•it Means:
uality guaranteed
n.surpassed fit
^ bsoiute satisfaction
jj_ eading styles
| nestimable worth
| estsfying values
ear after year O'Ar ^r‘n8s cheer
To millions of homos afpr and near,
Big and liHle folks sir.g ihe praise
^<y:: 50 lf°nd:rhjlly made
ST. LOU13.
We sell Stes
Men and Women looking for their
Money's worth, L*uy them.
Fred. D. Whiting.
GEORGE F. CROSSER,
Notary Public, and
Dealer In Real Estate.
All kinds of blank deeds, trust or
warranty, kept on hand, prepared and
icknowledgmeots attested. Deposi
ions taken. Pension work ;i sjiecialty.
Office in Pe st Office Building.
J. C. LEWIS,^
Contractor and Builder,
Plans, Specifications and Estimates
Cheerfully Furnished.
Job work of all kinds neatly and
iromptly clone. Satisfaction guaran
eed. Saw filing a specialty.
Shop South of Journal Office.
J. W. HODGES,
lysician and Surgeon,
.•e at Sturdivant's- Drug Store.
Residence Plume N<>- <>1.
,LS answered PROMPTLY.
f-ascoe
ne N<». 10
L. O. Hu«
phone No. 24
PASCOE & POE
y sir fans and Surgeons
•*e in Raney Building, on South
'ront Street. Phone No. n.
> hours 8 to 12 a. m., and 1 to a P