Weekly Calaveras chronicle., 1867-10-19
Hunting a Murderer.
A THRILLING STORY.

In the year ISL was living in
retired little shooting lodge on the south
west coast of Ireland. About a month
previous to the time Of which | write, a
gentleman had been shot down at his
own gate in Tipperary Every body
knew that the murderer was lurking
somewhere in ny neighborhood in the
hope OF obtaining passage to America,
An unusually large reward had been
offered for his apprehension, and the
police were securing the country night
and day, in every direction.
One fine summer evening | had re-
turned from a long days fishing on the
bay, and was smoking farewell pipe
for the night, when 1 heard the tramp
of horses feet on the gravel outside,
followed by sharp ring at the bell. 1t
was with no small delight that | recog-
nized the well-known voice Of Frank
Butler, a constabulary officer, and one
of my oldest friends.
When we had seen the horse put up
"a splendid hunter, which had carried
his master nearly sixty miles that day.
and sat down to supper, | noticed Frank
looked more tired and careworn than |
had seen him before. It was not long
until the cause came out.
You have heard Of this murder, Of
course, Harry said hei that is what
brought he over tonight; it occurred
in my district, and the gentleman was
an intimate friend [ would have dined
with him that day, but was called sud
denly on duty, and sent an apology at
the last moment. | was told since that
he walked down to his avenue gate to
meet ME. His hand was on the latch
when the villain fired from behind a
tree. You know this country WE'LL he
added, abruptly.
SO well that if the fellow is lying out
anywhere within FIVE miles, | think |
could undertake to put you on his
track.
Frank sprang from his chair and
walked hurriedly through the room.
4 would give my right arm to be face
to face with him, Harry. If you had
seen poor IS wife her weary, hope
less face has been haunting me ever
since; [ can never rest until the muir
derer is taken, and | have certain intor-
nation that he is lying out somewhere.
Every house has been searched over
and over again, but | cannot think of
bringing you into the business. One
victim is enough. If it were known you
would be marked man.
Make your mind easy on that score,
Frank; not one of the fellows here will
touch hair of my head, especially in a
strangers quarrel. My life is the most
of their leases, and the heir-at-law is not
such favorite that they would shoot
me to bring him in. So now to bust
ness. will get the ordinance map,
and we can trace out the plan of our
campaign
Our task was not such difficult one
after all; the ground to be searched
was limited and tolerably open, con-
sisting chiefly of bog, mountain and
shore, with every foot of which | was
acquainted. [ pointed out to Frank
each days work on the map; and with
out assistance, and hunting in couples,
three days would be amply sufficient to
beat it ALL
| had brace of young settlers in
training at the time, and to prevent
suspicion, it was agreed we should 90
out as if dog breaking was our only OBJ
ject; accordingly, early the following
morning, well provided with all the
'etceteras' for such work, we started on
our first days hunt. 1t proved blank !;
but the second day showed US that our
game was on foot and not far off. In a
little wooded glen we came upon several
artfully concealed caves, which were
evidently lately occupied, and in one of
them l picked up an old pistol flint that
had been thrown away and replaced, as
there was some paper lying beside it,
from which a small piece had been torn,