The silver state. [volume] (Unionville, Nev.) 1870-1903, 1879-09-18
THE HOLY TERROR.
A Tale Of an Eastern Nevada BIowhard.
From the San Francisco Stock Report


Once upon a time, in little mining
camp in Eastern Nevada, there was
a bully-ragging, blowhard sort Of
fellow who used to call himself the
"Holy Terror" The Holy Terror
would get drunk whenever he could
wheedle or brighten barkeeper out of
enough whisky to get up the necessary
steam. Then he would parade the
streets with big six-shooter cooked in
his hand, and threaten to clean out the
town. If he happened in his perambu-
lations to run across some man noted
for meek and inoffensive disposition,
the Terror would bully the poor fellow,
perhaps pull his nose, and at the best
apply to him the vilest epithets and
challenge him to street duel, be
meanwhile, with the pistol cooked in
his hand. He would ride through the
streets on Wild mustang, fourishing
his pistol in the air, and declaring that
every man in town except himself was
of base origin, and that he was the
Holy Terror and could whip nest of
wildcats. The people were too busy
with their own affairs to bother with
this nuisance, and the law could not
reach him, as he had never killed any
body or committed what would be con-
sidered an overt act in the estimation
of the community of new mining
camp. They were tired of him, but
were waiting for him to do something
that would give them good cause to
deal with him summarily.
One day the. Holy Terror got on AN
unusually large load of spirituous in
spiration, and started on one of his reg
ular cooked pistol rampages. He had
not gone far before he met one of the
principal and best citizens Of the place
business man.. who was pursuing the
quiet. and even tenor of his way and
not hunting fighters. The Terror ap-
preached the citizen and commenced a
TRADE on what he considered the gen.
eral cussedness' of the people of the
camp-their stinginess in not furnish
ing him with free whisky and their
plodding meanness in pursuing legiti-
mate business instead of having the
ambition to become Holy Terrors; and
in the, full measure of his contempt he
spat on the merchant.
That merchant walked away as meek
ly and as calmly as if being spat upon
was an every day thing with him, and
as if he rather liked it. But he went
and interviewed various other citizens
Of the town, and in alittle while band
o5 some twenty determined men might
have been seen marching down ths
street. They marched and marched
until they saw the Holy Terror coming
out of saloon. He had his cooked
six shooter in his hand, as usual. One
of the band approached him, laid his
hand gently On. his shoulder, and. said :
eve want. YOU"
The Terror looked up and, found him
self surrounded by the twenty men.
His face turned pale and his cooked six
shooter dropped from hiss nerveless
hand.
"For Gods sake, gentlemen, don't
hang me-" he. duplicated in piteous
tones.
Never word did, one OF them reply,
but they took. him. ito tree in the out
skirts of the town; tied rope around
his neck and threw it over limb.
The Holy Terror fell on. his knees,
cried like baby, begged Ikea kicked
cur, and promised that if he was only let
off he would get down on his knees and
beg the pardon OF every man IN town,
one by one.
He was too cowardly to hang, and
each member of the committee admins
tered to himea crashing kick and. let
him go.
From that time forth the HolyiTer-
ror was no longer terror. The little
yellow ours snapped, at his heels, the
little boys jibed hip, the servant girls