Fayetteville observer. [volume] (Fayetteville, Tenn.) 1850-1966, 1870-12-15

| "N ow, an l cud only git to
the ovid log house; it 'ude kape
me dhry. Howly Moses, what
a big flash was that!"
And so saying Patrick broke
into very respectable trot,
which quickly brought him into
a little weed-grown clearing.
In the centre of this was a small
log house, the deserted home
stead Of some discontented
squatter who had moved farther
westward. It consisted of but
two rooms, front and back, land all
vestiges of doors or window
shutters had long since disap-
peared, but it promised some
sort of imperfect shelter from
the rain.
Patrick was but just in time,
for hardly had he stumbled over
the grassy threshold before the
big drops began to patter, and
these were quickly followed by
such penetrating torrents as
compelled him to select his rest
ing place under as good a cor
nel of the leaky roof as he could
find.
"Bless me soul, but this is a
wet rain, anyhow! I'd not like
| to be found Grounded wit anoth-
er mans portmanty about me
clothes. Whist, now, Pathrick,
me jewel-what's that?"
And, as he spoke, Patrick
once more advanced to the door
way. 1t was now all but pitch
dark, and he could hear the half
mufled voices of men, whose
profane utterance seemed to try
and direct one another towards
the shelter.
"Here it is, Bob. I wonder
if there's>anybody in it.
"Not tonight, there won't be.
Go right in; we're coming"
Patrick was no fool and he
had heard something in the tones
rather than the words-though
these were mingled with hor-
rid profanity-which convey
ed to his mind the impression
that the new comers were men
with whom he did not care to
scrape an acquaintance; neither
did he like to go out into the lit
| tie room that formed the other
part of the house, and curled
himself up against the logs.
In a moment more he. perceiv-
ed that three men had taken pos
session Of his late quarters, and
he lay as still as mouse, while
! they continued a discussion
which had evidently been inter-
rupted by the storm.
"He won't try to get over to-
night, I reckon"
ayes, he will; he's got to"
"But the storm?"
"He'll wait till that's over"
"Maybe he's started
off he has he'll turn back
We're safe enough to bag him,
an it's a little the best lay we
ever had"
"Pretty good pot, that'sa a fact.
Do you know how he's got it?"
Gin a valise, Jim says"
"Well, we can take it as we'll
in that as in anything else, as
the man said about his whisky"
"But, ,what'll we do with him"
"Dead men tell no tales"
'HThat's the safest, / guess;
and they will lay it to some of
the strikers.
"Most likely. Have you got
the dark lantern ready?"
"Not much oil in it"
"Let's fill it, then. l went to
get some, and got into the boss's
private Office, and l just found
one little can hid away in his
desk. Not another thing worth
bringing away. Here It's; let's
fill up an take look around"
Thus far Patrick had listened
with breathless interest, while
his mind teemed with horrid
visions of robbery and murder.
As ave have said he was by no
means lacking in sharpness,
and the reference to the valise
had not been by any means re-
assuring.
"Howly Mother how did they
iver know ] was comm over
wild the portmanty ? I'd like to
know that. Begorrah, I'd bet
ther have turned back before /
iver come An what's a dol
lar to pay for bein' murthered?'
Patrick's thoughts were
troubling the very soul within
him, when he heard what was
said about the lantern, and he
needed no one to tell him that
his only safety from discovery
was inretreat. There was some