The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1880-03-04
heir winter supplies. and the-annual

QlnneT gave Lne opportunity W lHS Sct'
eran officers of the late war to fight their
battles over again, and talk about their
strange adventures over the sherry and
madeira. In the fall of 1889 my father
went down, as usual, to attend the meet
ing, travelling on horseback, for there
was no Northeastern Railroad then, and
no steamers piled on Cooper River. 1t
took two days to make the journey from
St. Stephens, the roadside taverns fur
nishing rest and refrcshment at night:
One of these, the Seven-mile House, had
a decidedly bad reputation it was too
near the city for the purposes of country
travellers, and was frequented by disor-
derly characters from town. My father
had not seen Theus for week or two,
and remarked his absence from the So
ciety meeting. Just as dinner was
served, however, the Captain came IN,
fresh from the road and apologizing for
his detention, which he promised to ex-
plain after the cloth was removed. The
toasts we're drunk, and the decanter was
circulated with the freedom which fortu-
nately is no longer considered essential
to the requirements of good society, when
the president raped on the table and
called for Capt. Theus's story. He re-
lated substantially the adventure which
1 have just told you, and then proceeded
with the sequel to it.
"I was unable 10 leave home until yes
terday after dinner, and stopped at Boin-
est's tavern last night, determined to start
early this morning and make the last
twenty miles in three hours. Untortu-
nately, however, my horse struck lame,
and by the time / reached the Seven mile
House had to dismount and lead him.
l determined to leave him there and hire
a fresh beast to bring me; and, having
made the arrangements with the hostler,
went into the bar to get something hot
while was waiting. Imagine my feel
ings when I entered the room and saw
Dave Peigler standing at the counter, as:
had seen him often ut Scuffletown, sery-
ing out rum and sugar to half dozen
ill-lookiug fellows! l don't think 1 was
frightened, but know l turned pale with
astonishment, and it was some time be-
fore l could utter a word. The fellow
recognized me at once, and his hand
shook so rs to spill the liquor he was
pouring; but he recovered in moment,
and stood looking at me with very
queer, ugly expression. l thought there
might be trouble, but knew my man, if
death had not changed him, so 1 quietly
loosened the strap Of my holsters, which
hung on my arm, and walking straight
up to the bar, said 1: Are you not the
Dave Peigler whom hanged at St. Ste
phen's ten years ago?' I'm that very
Dave Peigler, and as good man to-day
as any of the crowd that roped me up
was the answer. Then, pray, how the
devil do you happen to be here nowT
The Devil had nothing to do with it, or
things might have been different, and
small thanks to you, either. You left
me twisting round like an old woman's
spindle, with hard knot under my left
ear. 1t sets my head spinning to think
of it now. If Balls Loyalists had been q
little more careful, they would have COB
bled up your little squad bodily. As it
was, they caught Joe Edie, who you
thought had deserted, and hung him with
the same rope from which they had cut
me down. 1t took some rough rubbing
and pint of hollands to bring me to
again; but I came round at last, and we
buried Edie in the yard of the Old Brick
Church. l reckon, Captain, that clears
the score between us, and you and may
as well be friends Then, turning with
a wicked grin to the astonished rowdies
who stood by, he added: That's the
reason, boys, why 1 always wear my
shirt-neck open. I've never been able to
stand the pressure of cravat since that
day. l took the rum and water which
he offered, but insisted on paying for it,
and determined to ride my own horse to
town, after resting him while. That
accounts for my being late at dinner to-
day.
"My father used to say that, after this,
he never passed the Scven-mile House
after night, and always hurried by in the
daytime, for he could not help the feel
ing that, if Dave Peigler was not a ghost,
he at least ought to be one." Which is
the end of the Colonels story.