Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1881-08-27


to, an too poor to pay for u ride,
Kin ye give me one?"
He stepped forward as he spoke.
Poor he was If tattered garments
betoken poverty, for his clothing
was but single patched rag from
head to foot. Old he surely was,
for the withered skin and scanty
gray locks, the claw-like hands and
sunken eyes. could not well be dis
guised.
Half in sc0rn and half in pity,
yet with a brain awake to his dam
ger, Jake drew rein and replied to
| his petitioner
1 "Yes! Be lively and climb up
here. Pm behind time now.
Where do you go?"
The old man answered, as he
struggled to seat at the drivers
side: m
dickson s."
/ A touch of the wip and the horses
| were again upon quick trot. Pool
eyed his companion as they rode
/ onward, and almost uncOnsciously
dropped his hand to his boot top
and lOosened the revolver carried
there.
"Cold day for May 70 said the
newcomer, shivering. "This yer
winds sharp, too"
eyes," responded the other, men,
tally wondering where about his
ragged clothes the scoundrel at his
side had concealed his weapons, sit
is cold. But you win find it warmer
in the Pass"
"Sure?' said the old man, leering
in Jake's face.
''Sure!" responded that worthy,
his blood chilling with the covert
hint in the word and he urged his
horses to yet greater speed.
The grade was sharply descend
ing now, and the road rocky and
rough. A mile more and the Pass
would be reached. The coach fair
ly swayed under its rapid motion.
Old Jim was forced to cling to
the seat with both hands in order to
avoid being hurled to the ground.
This was as Pool desired, and he
smiled grimly as he noticed the
others action.
Yer-a-drivin' purity = fast I"
screamed the gray-haired despera-
do, the words fairly jerked from
him as the coach sprang forward,
rocking from side to side. Yell
heV-tO-hOld-up-at- the Pass
-I-reckon !"
Jake set his teeth.
The granite walls of the Pass
were now just before them, and the
roadway, descending and steep, ran
into the shadow of the coming night |
and the gloom of the grave-like |
opening-a narrow path but little |
wider than the coach itself.
The roar of the angry river far
below knelled a never ending |
warning as it ran, ragged and torn,
among the Jagged rocks, and the |
death-like mist that crept upward
was damp and chill.
"I won't hold up ~ and, with
these words, the driver struck his
horses sharply, and, snorting, they
sprang forward into the Devils
Pass.
At the same instant, halfway
through the terrible gorge, stand
ing motionless in the centre of the
roadway, a beetling wall of rock
upon the one hand, chasm of un-
known depth upon the other, was
seen man.
Copper Tom was awaiting his
quarry.
The old man at POOLS side utter
ed a cry, and loosening his grasp OF
the seat with one hand, he would
have thrust it into his breast; but
the other leaned suddenly toward
him, and pressing a revolver muz-
zle against his forehead, whispered
hoarsely:
HDoWn with yer hands III ye
stir ag'in I'll kill ye! l know We,
old jim, am you can't catch Jake
Pool nor his load this timei Down
with yer hands"
The shuddering rascaPs hand fell
at his side; his face grew ashen-
hued, and his eyes stared before
him. They were rapidly approach
ing Copper Tom.
For an instant, as they drew
near, that worthy stood facing
them; then through the fading
light, he saw the position of his pal,
upon whom he had depended-he
saw the stern, set face of the driver
he saw the furious horses plung-
ing down upon him--and with a
terror-stricken cry he turned and !
fled.
Could he but reach the lower end
of the causeway he might escape
could he but find a single spot to
turn aside he would be safe; but it
was not to be.
Nearer and nearer thundered the
iron shod hoofs behind him, mar
rover and still narrower grew the
fatal road, until there rang sudden
horrible, despairing cry, mingled
with the frightened snort of the
horses, a dark something bent
down before the plunging steeds,
rolled an instant before their grind
ing feet, and then spurned by the
flying wheels, was hurled, an un-
mass, into the
canyon beneath, and the coach sped
on.
Half an hour later, Jake Pool
pulled into the corral at Dickson's
ranch, and tumbling half-fainting
man from the seat at his side into
the arms of the astounded hostlers,
he said:
"Bind that man and give him to
the sheriff. It's old Jim, the road
agent. His pard's at the bottom of
the gulch in the Pass, this one
ought to stretch hemp when the
officers get him, and I've driven
my last run frumGallatin. There's
too much risk about the business
for me-"
And Jake kept his word. He no
longer coaches it, but now keeps a
public housein Helena itself, where,
not long since at his own snug fire.
side, he told me this thrilling tale.