The Bolivar bulletin. [volume] (Bolivar, Hardeman County, Tenn.) 1865-1888, 1875-07-02
A FIGHT FOR LIFE.

in the year 1874, that found myself at
sunset, on one of the dreariest days I
ever saw, waiting my chances at little
Arkansas station for a seat in a coach,
which the telegraph Op sratOr assured
me would start in a couple of hours for
the town of c., my next destination.
I sat in the operators little cage,
beating tattoo with my feet, and for
the first time in a week feeling utterly
jaded and worn out.
The door, facing the dense and gloomy
forest outside, looked like some yawn-
ing aperture to a cavern, the oil lamp
inside seeming naturally to intensity
the inky bIRckness outside.
The operator, weary, pale.faced
man, seemed glad of my company, as
he 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.
I ascertained that the coach generally
made its trip in an hour and a half or
two hours.
I suggested the probability that,
as the night promised 80 bad,
perhaps the coach would lay over ;
IN fact, 1 rather hoped that this
might be the case, as I began to
hate the idea of being whirled through
that dark woods with a fierce wind
twisting the branches together overhead,
and smashing the dry limbs and twigs
with great noise. The operator declared
that, as it was the mail coach to c.,
it would undoubtedly go, whatever the
prospect; as TO company, though, he
fancied L would have it pretty much my
own 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 l had of him was not 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. and l made
no comment except a yawn of general
dissatisfaction.
There's a house down the road 8
quarter of a mile where you might stay
all night, ventured the operator, list.
lessIy turning the pages of the last
years almanac, not raising his eyes at
all.
Mine was not a suspicious nature,
and yet l took no heart in his sugges.
ton, and began to think all manner OF
things about the man with the almanac
house down the road
Invent to the door and looked out.
The man who had looked in on ul
had been sitting on the step formed by
the threshold. 1 was sure it was tn,
same.
He got up hastily and walked dow
the platform not CHANGING back. l ob
served then that he wore a heavy capot
cloak and low hat.
The wind Elew a hurricane and ther
was not a star visible; as TO road
could see none, nor in fact anything
but about twelve inches of the frost
rails on which the operators lamp-ligh
fell.
I closed the door suddenly as if
had retired within. I cannot say tina
it was 4 y purpose to watch the man /
the cloak, but I closed the door.
1t was very dark on the platform, e.
cept under the grimy window.
The man came back softly, and
scraped a wax taper to light a cigar
The black beard and a pair of gIitterin
eyes were within two feet of me. Wa
he dlscOncerted
He walked on to the other side of tn
platform leisurely.
The rain began to fail in big splashin
drops, chilling me thoroughly in te
minutes. / went back into the Opera
tors room he stiIl idled over the aImG
nae, scarcely looking up as I entered
Soon after there was the distant rum
bling of wheels, the trample of horse
and few bugle tones came dow
mOurnfully III the wind.
There's the coach, said the opera
tor, and Bill WOodfOrd's horn. Their
must be something wrong this is no
his run"
Lights cleaned at the outer end q
the platform. The clumsy old conc
rumbled up, the driver, in a gray over
coat and woOlly cap, helped to get tn
mail bag IN the boot, shouting ont
This way if you pie Sc, gentlemen
and not an inch o. time to spare. -
What's up, WOOdford, -" said dee
bass voice, land where is Sam tc
night ?"
Hes done gone and gave his ankle
baddish twist that's all. Come. loo
alive there " 1 buttOned up my Goa
felt that my pistol was all right [ ba
taken 1t from the black bag Just b,
fore the arrival of the coach. 1 clan
bered III, took a forward seat. and 8
somebody swung lantern backwar
and forward, d1scerned that save a yer
old gentleman, who seemed to be dOZiu
IN the back, that l was the only passe1
ger.
The driver cracked his whip and wit
terrific jOlting we started at furiou
rate of speed. We had, perhaps, a,
compllshed five or six miles in this way
when the tickety old affair gave a suC
den iurch before coming to a full stop
ana the driver appeared at the windo
dripping with rain.
Wen have to tumble here for fb
night, reckon, gents for the storr
!ast hlght has blown a tree right sonar
IN the road, and the Header hes o,Dt
rock IN his foot and can't go ON on
way" 81 OH al
Pleasant prospect truly .oTbera,s 81
job SlIver's cabin yonder we can -,
up with him, ] guess, until r,o,,.;E'
AS the driver had already began +
unhltch. there was nothing to 30 bT,
beg hospitality of Mrs. Silvers. and fl
ola gentleman and myself scramble
out, the former growing savagelv wbe
ne found the road aukle-deep i'm
sticky mlre, and the rain pouring !
torrents.
should like to throttle that villain
and shoot that cursed leader on IN
spot, said the old gentleman. maxim
off toward the miserable shantv. TO tn
rlght some thirty yards. After a suppe
OF irlzzled bacon, fried eggs and ey