The Canton mail. [volume] (Canton, Miss.) 18??-1882, 1875-07-03
A FIGHT FOR LIFE.

A FIGHT FOR LIFE.
II was in the latter pnrt of November,
in the year 1874, that L found my self at
sunset. on one of the dreariest days l
ever saw, waiting my chances at little
Arkansas station fer seat in n coach,
which the telegraph op rator a-sur,d
me would start in a couple of h' urs for
the town of c., my next destination.
1 sat In the operators little cage,
beating tattoo NTH my feet, and for
the first time in week feeling utterly
laded and worn out.
The door, facing the dense and gloomy
forest outside, looked like some yawn-
ing aperture to cavern, the OIL lamp
inside seeming naturally to intensity
the inky blackness outside.
The operator, weary, pale faced
man, seemed glad of my company, as
be no doubt was. poor old chap, and
delayed me with questions about the
busy world to which he was attached
only through his instrument and an
occasional newspaper.
1 ascertained that the coach generally
made IFS trip in an hour and half or
two hours.
L suggested the probability that,
as the night promised so bad,
perhaps the coach would lay over !;
In fact, 1 rather hoped that this
might be the case, as / began to
hate the idea CT being whirled through
that dark woods with fierce wind
twisting the branches together overhead,
and smashing the dry limbs and twigs
with great noise. The operator declared
thar, as it was the mail coach to c.,
it would undoubtedly go, whatever the
prospect; as to company, though, be
II 49, d,
owi way, as there did not seem to be
any passengers beside myself.
He walked down the platform to the
station room, and came back with the
intelligence that it was empty.
Just at that moment a man pushed
The door open and looked in; the
glimpse hal of him was rot enliven-
ing. He was heavily wrapped, and his
face very nearly covered by a thick,
black beard.
The operator, busy at his table, had
not observed the intruder, aud 1 made
no comment except yawn of general
dissatisfaction.
There's a house down the road a
quarter of a mile where you might stay
all night" ven,ured the operator, list
lessly turning the pages of the last
years almanac, not raising his eyes at
all.
Mine was not n suspicious nature,
and yet L took no heart in his sugges-
ton, and began to think all manner of
things about the man with tine almans G.
a house down the road
Invent to the door and looked out.
The man who had looked in on us
had been sitting On the step formed by
the threshold. / was sure it was the
same.
He got up hastily and walked down
the platform not CHANGING back. I OBJ
served then that he wore heavy capote
cloak and low hat.
The wind Flew a hurricane and there
was not star visible; as to road 1
could see none, nor in fact anything,
but about twelve inches of the frosty
rails on which the operators lamp-hght
fell.
1 closed the door suddenly as if I
had retired within. 1 cannot sly that
it was n y purpose to watch the man in
the cloak, but closed the door.
1t was very dark on the platform, ex-
cept und.r the grimy window.
The man came back softly, and
Ecrsped a wax taper to light a cigar
The black beard and pair of glittering
eyes were within two feet of me. Was
he disccncerted
He walked On to the other side of the
platform leisuIely.
The rain began to fail in big splashing
drops, chilling me thoroughly in ten
minutes. / went back into the opera
tors room !; he still idled over the alma
nae, scarcely looking up as 1 entered
Soon aftor there was the distant rum
bling of wheels. the trample of horses
and few bugle tones came down
mournfully in the wind.
"There's the COACH" said the opera
tor, land Bill Woodford's horn. There
must be something wrong this is not
his rum"
Lights cleaned at the outer end of
the platform. The clumsy old coach
rumbled up, the driver, in a gray over
coat and woolly cap, helped to get the
mailbag in the boot, shouting out,
"This way if you please, gentlemen,
What's III, Woodford," said deep
bass v0ice, land where is Sam to-
nigbtT'
= He's done gone and gave his ankle a
baddish twist that's all. Come, look
alive there |" I buttoned up my coat,
felt That my pistol was all right L had
taken it from the black bag inst be-
fore the arrival of the coach. I clam
bered in, took a forward seat, and as
somebody swung a lantern backward
and forward, dIscerned that save a very
old gentleman. who seemed to be doing
in the back, that 1 was the only passen-
ger.
The driver cracked his whip and with
terrific iolting we started at furious
rate of speed. We had, perhaps, ac-
conplished five or six miles in this way,
when the tickety old affair gave a sud
don lur.h haf<,ra b. 81
End the driver appeared at the window
dripping with rain.
We'll have to tumble here fer the
night, reckon, gents for the storm
last night has blown a tree right square
IN the road, and the leader has got a
rock IN his foot and can't go on any
way"
Pleasant prospect truly ''There's old
job Siiver's csbin yonder we can put
up with him, guess, until mornin'."
As the-drIver had already began to
IHf "a, there was nothing to do but
beg hospitality of Mrs. Silvers, and the
old gentleman and myself scrambled
ont, The former growing savagely when
he found the read aukle-deep in a
sticky miro, and the rain pouring in
torrente,
81 should like 10 throttle that villain,
and shoot that cursed leader on the
spot, said the old gentleman, making
of toward the miserable shanty, to the
right some thirty yards. After supper
of frizzled bacon, fried eggs and ex-
cellent coffee, which was not SO bad r.
supper. eaten before spanking fire of
birch logs, the host, n tall, grim old
man, with the face of one of Napoleon
rs soldiers, albeit with certain look of
simplicity impossible to a soldier, con-
duc.ed me up rude pair of stars to a
sleeping apartment. The room sIoI ed
low in the ceiling On two sides, being
Just under the roof, and was furnished
with two narrow beds and two chairs.
took off my coat and waistcoat, and
flung myself into bed, putting my pistol