The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1878-09-12

buckets o watCr--'bO all ther was in
the tank; but il seemed to dry Of ~
fast as we poured 1t on, fur the blanket
was smokin'. Wen the rope went down
fur the last time, to haul upJoe Harper
the sCantlin' was burnn' an the upper
timbers was beginnn' to blaze, The
whirlin' smoke hid Ferguson from u.s.
but we knowod If he didn't come out
purity soon the whole sheebang d give
way and bury him; the sides was In a
light blaze, an the place where the
win'lass stood was the only spot where
even Dandy Ferguson could worked.
II must bin an awful strain on him
the last pulI-but he never owned 1t,
an bimeby up comes Joe, the brayest
man in the camp, | reckon, barrin'
Dandy Ferguson, cause, you see, he
wouldn't tech the rope till they'd all
bin hauled up; he tied every man on
except the coward, Miller, an then came
through the blazin' shaft himself,
watchin' the little tongues o fire shoot
out from the side ev'ry once in awhile,
as if they'd lick the life.thread in two.
"As Joe grabbed the upper chains the
shaft lit up with hiss an roar, as if
the fire was mad at losing its prey, Joe
got out an Ferguson staggered away
from the win less, but his luck went back
on him at the last minute. He STUN
bed an fell Jest as he come to the tram
way at the door an the whole side o the
buidin' come down on him with crash.
A hundred men forgot danger an death,
an rushed into the flames; but Miller,
the man that played it so sneakin' mean
down in the shaft, got to him first, an
dragged him out.
Everybody thought he was dead an
the crowd carried him an Miler-who
dropped insensible after he'd got Fergu,
son Quito the camp. But Dandy Fer,
guson lived through it though fur weeks
he lay between life an death, an fur
months he didn't stir out of dark room.
But there wasn't no lack O help an
prayers an faithful nurses to bring him
round. No. sir; an there wasn't a man,
woman or child within hundred miles
O the Chapparral mine thet wouldn't a
crawlcd on their hands an knees to
watch one hour at his bedside, an
thought it one o the biggest kind o
honors--you ken bet your life on thet.
Yes, sir; Dandy Ferguson is king in
this yer country--he's better'n four
kings most o the time, cause any man
thet knows him d lay down four bullets
any day if he held them against Fergu-
son it'd be like takin' an advantage, ye
see, to hold 'em out on him. He can
hev anything or do anything he likes.
We'd send him to Congress eff he'd 60,
but he won't We've got him here,
though, an ! guess he'll never leave; I
wish was one o them poetry writers
I'd write the bulliest poem about Dandy
Ferguson you ever read, you hear me.
Yes, he's married, Got married
after he came out.
Talk about weddin's! That ras q
weddin' ; everybody got an invite, and
everybody piled in to see the gamest
man in the State tied to the gamest
woman on Gods footstool. Who was
she? Why, Maggie Hidreth, of course
Who else d it be, I'd like to know
What became of Harry Miller? Well,
that's purity good. Miller, ye see, came
out all right, an you bet he didn't rest
till he'd begged Bill Slocim's pardin fur
leayin' him in the shaft as he did; but
Bill wouldn't hev it; said thet Miller'd
balanced accounts by savin' the life .
Ferguson, the man thet saved him. But
thet's played.
You want to know what become of
him. Well-say, look here, mister,
don't like to own it, but Pm the cuss-
I'm Harry Miller, Interdooce ye to
Dandy Ferguson OF course ! will, an
you'll never get an Introduction to a
gamer man, OF one it's more honorable
to know.
An mister, eff ye ever tell about the
Chapparral shaft, an how Dandy Fer
guson stood by thet win'lass in the red
hot histin' works, Jest throw it in some
where thet he's better'n four kings in
this camp-it'll top off the story tust
rate, an, besides, you bet it's no more'n
the solid truth"