The Portland daily press., 1882-02-11

room Poor old Tom! He's taking on awful
"; it was him made her go on tonight, he
SAYS. You ought to have seen how her hair
turned-from the shock, the doctors all say,
tire minute she knew she had missed and
her time was up Well, il was jet black, as
YOU know; and it was white when we picked
her up, white as snow to the ends"
Clyde then said something to his compan-
ion in an undertone as themen moved away
Mrs. Bridg9man gave little SILVER. "Oh,
Il is awful" she said. "Let us go home
The door behind them opened suddenly,
and Bridgeman came out. His lips were
compressed till they seemed a mere line on
his face. His eyes narrowed as he: saw his
wife Oh the Texans arm. 'I've been look
inc for you," he said, and his wife seemed
to think that he spoke to her, though his
glance was full into the other mans sphinx.
like face, handsome, expressionless and
we'll bred.
"Tm going home'' she said. "Mr. Clyde
will take me there. You had better stay
and do what you can for poor Tom. know
all about it, She's dead"
Bridgeman paid not the slightest attention
to the sound of her voice or to what she
said. He took the Texan suddenly by the
lapel of his overcoat and swung him round
so as squarely to face himself. GIVE been
looking for you," he said and his expression
was that of some wild beast. ''Pm going to
send you where you belong"
CLYDE saw his right hand move back OF
his hip. With the other he still held the
Texan by the coat. Mrs. Bridgeman dropp-
ed Cyde's arm and threw open the little
door behind. Clyde wrenched himself free
and he fell through, and shot flew past his
ears.
The shot startled the members OF the
troupe and the hangers-on within. Mrs.
Bridgeman literally f1attened herself against
the wall as her husband dashed past her
after Clyde. There was another scene in the
ring that was not down on the bills-Clyde,
bareheaded, running for his life, in obedi-
ence to the blind animal instinct of escape,
and the knowledge that he was unarmed,
and Bridgeman after him, aiming and firing
his pistol as he ran. The house-what re-
manned of it after HazePs accident had not
heard the fatal termination of her fall-broke
into animation at the sight. Clyde was in
the middle of the ring, the same place where
the tan had been hastily raked over the
spot where Hazel fell, when the last bullet
from Bridgeman's revolver did its work.
He threw his hands up over his head and
dropped.
Bridgeman flung his useless weapon across
the Texans PROSTATE body, and, turning on
his heel, walked quietly back the way he had
come His own comrades about the dool
seem paralyzed. They made no effort to
detain him, but fell back and let him pass.
The house had just begun to realize its
mistake, and that a dread tragedy had been
enacted in its midst. A strong current Of
air from open doors rushed in and set the
lights Pickering. Some one ventured into
the ring, and turned the Texans white face
up. There was no doubt about it; he was
dead.
Tom Scully had pushed himself among
the crowd now in the ring They had to
put him gently out of the room where the
dead girl lay.
'sWhat is it?'' he asked in a dazed sort of
way. cts Clyde, amt it? who did it.
Bridge?"
cpd rather handle dynamite than have
fooled with Bridges wife," said the man who
had turned Clyde's face up to the light.
''Hazel said something that put him on the
track tonight"
ssShe did, ehP" said SculIy, with a return
of his old air. "And Bridge shot him for it.
Thank God, he's deadw
'tIt's dead loss for Coppec this season,
said one who stopped to lift up the murder
ed Texan, "but it will advertise him the
next, just like smoke"
Scully turned and followed the regular
tramp of the bearers across the ring: so had
he helped to carry Hazel this very night. In
stinctively he thrust his hand into the breast
pocket of his old coat and touched there a
soft lock of hair that had just been severed
from its young owners head, though it was
as white as snow. "Thank God, he's dead p
he muttered to himself as he thought again
of Clyde.