Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, 1886-12-05

| / was on the point. late as it was-toC
| late for my manhood, l feared-0t gOine
| out to meet my pursuers, when their cage
| voices and the joyful EXPLANATIONS of the
women told me the wounded man baC
come to. They lifted him up, and l stood
| there watching as they washed his face
and heard them eager in their prOtesta
tons of sorrow TOR his hurt--hOw they
| were "hunting' me, and were sure, al
most, that they had tracked me to his camp
| fire. They'd not have harmed him for the
| world had they known him. Some OF them
| had been his ''pards' in Nevada. Most
| of them had heard of him. They were
| glad he wasn't hurt much. and delighted
| that he was coming to the Butte. Now
| they must be gone. There was already a
| hazy gray over the mountain tops; day
would soon break and they must catch
| me before l got the mortgage recorded.
| was the ''vampire" who would drain the
poor miners life blood for the sake OF the
| Eastern sharks.
blushed into myIboots. was ashamed
| of having broken so rudely into this fam
lily circle and had the head of it risk his
| life to protect nv hiding place, while |
lay near by like log. useless, apparently
ungrateful, written down a coward in the
eyes of the women. My pursuers, think
ing me concealed in the wagon, had
struck down in the dark the one brave
man there to oppose them. His pistol
shot had hurt no one, and the butt end OF
a heavy whip that knocked him down had
done him no worse hurt than bloodlet-
| ting. And here | was, with the day break
ing. In danger of hanging.
turned toward my horse. He was feed
| ing in the willows 40 feet below me, where
he'd been tetaered the night Sefore. Their
| horses, unprotected, were nlDDllng along
the grassy hillside.
so | made dash for it, at first swiftly
and softly, under the shelter of the boul-
| der, and then boldly into the willows,
where, with one knife blow, | cut the
| picket rope and was in the saddle clatter-
| ing down the canyon. with pistol shots and
| curses coming after me. Presently they
mounted and followed.
/ actually felt eXhilaration as l gal.
loped down the river bank. The morning
air was fresh, the cliffs tufted here and
there with white and pink blooms which
shook down fragrant dew on me as l
Numbered past. My hOrse seemed to be
refreshed, and that sense of the wild end
daring which Is sometimes awakened in
every man in the midst OF savage nature
tiDgled In my blood.
There we're two courses open for me.
The narrow gauge road crossed the river
six miles south, over perilous trestle.
The trail to Camas, my destination, which
Law a good twenty miles to the west,
turned off from the river about five miles
ahead. | could easily distance my pur-
suers to the forks, but could ride twenty
miles and arrive in time TO dispatch my
affair before they reached mep
| would take desperate chance.
Squirting the beast, in whom devillsh
spirit seemed TO rise to the stroke Of the
lash, / was soon far enough ahead to be
out OF sight and hearing. There was no
trail down the river bank TO the trestle,
but could fine one. The horse knew the
trail to the west which had expected TO
follow, and could be relied on to travel 1t
at least some distance after / abandoned
him. As we rushed down the slope and
reached the point where the beaten track
turned TO the right into the fr trees, fas-
tented the reins to the pommel, threw
myself from the saddle, and with last
unwilling stroke OF my whip, speeded the
gallant beast down the path l knew the
ruffians would take,
He ran on with, IL anything, an increase
OF speed. Now for the trestle, and TO
catch the train as 1t slowed up on its down
trip. II could make the train would
reach Camas an hour at least before
them, and record my mortgage at my lei
sure. Breathless but eager, dashed along
the cliff bottom and ran southwark, over
rocks and ferns, clutcbed at by clinglng
vines. with no guide but the pra"lng