Fort Worth weekly gazette. [volume] (Fort Worth, Tex.) 1882-1891, 1888-12-21

| IHclT DtSdH ~
the opening to the ground. The master {,
still uppermost and holding Seth firmly
down, allowed himself to slip with them Z,
showing his adversary before him; the
maddened Missourian, detecting his pur-
pose, made desperate attempt to change
his position and succeeded i'll raising his
knee against the masters chest. Ford {,
guarding against what seemed to be only
wrestler's strategy, contented himself
by locking the bent knee firmly in that
position, and thus unwittingly gave
Seth the looked-for opportunity of
drawing the bowie knife concealed in
his boot leg. He knew his mistake
only as Seth violently freed his arm i,
and threw it upward for the blow. He
| heard the steel slither like a scythe
through the hay, and unlocking his hold
| desperately threw himself on the uplifted
arm. The movement saved him. For
the released body of Seth slipped rdpidly
through the opening, upheld for single
instant on the verge by the grasp of the
master S two hands on the arm that still
held the knife, and then dropped heavily
downward. Even then, the hay that had
slipped before him would have broken his
fall but his head came in violent contact
with some farming implements standing
against the wall and without cry he
| was stretched senseless on the ground.
| The whole occurrence passed so rapidly
| and so noiselessly that not only did Nc
| Kinstry' $ challenge fall upon his already
| unconscious ears, but the loosened hay
which in the masters struggles to re-
| cover himself still continued to slide
gently from the loft, actually hid him
| from the eyes of the spectators who
sought him a moment afterwards. a
mass of hay and wild oats, dislodged ap-
parently by Mrs. McKinstry in securing
her defenses, was all that met their eyes;
even the woman herself was unconscious
of the deadly struggle that had taken
place above her.
The master staggered to an upright po-
sition, half choked and half blinded with
dust, turgid and bursting with the rush
of blood to his head, but clear and col
lected in mind, and unremorsefully tri-
umphant. Unconscious of the real eX-
tent of Seth S catastrophe, he CROPPED for
and seized his gun, examined the cap and
eagerly waited for renewed attack.
Gle tried to kill me; he would have
killed me; if he comes again l must
kill him, - he kept repeating to
himself. 1t never occurred to him
that this was inconsistent with
whole tenor of his belief. Perhaps the
most peaceful man who has been once
put in peril of his life by an adversary,
who has recognized death threatening
him in the eye of his antagonist, is by
some strange paradox not likely to hold
his own life or the life of his adversary as
dearly as before. Everything was silent
now The suspense irritated him, he no
longer dreaded but even longed for the
shot that would precipitate hostilities.
What were they doing? Guided by Seth,
were they concerning fresh attack?
Listening more intently he became
aware of distant shouting, and even
more distinctly, OF the dull, heavy
tramping of hoOfs. A sudden angry fear
that the McKinstrys had been beaten off
and were fiying-a fear and anger that
now for the first time identified him with
their cause-came ovef him, and he
scrambled quickly towards the opening
below. But the sound was approaching,
and with it came voice.
Hold on there, sheriffl''
1t was the voice of the agent, Stacey
There was a pause of reluctant muir
mering. But the warning was enforced
by a command from another voice
weak, unheroic, but familiar, 81 order
this yer to stop-right yeri'
A burst of ironical laughter followed.
The voice was Uncle Ben's.
''Stand back, This is no time for
foolin - said the sheriff roughly.
"He's right, Sheriff Briggs said
Stacey's voice hurriedly, ''you re acting
for him; he's the owner of the land. -
"what? That Ben Dabney?''
eyes; he's Daubigny, who bought the
title from us.
There was momentary hush, and then
a hurried murmer.
(Which means, GENTS rose Uncle
Ben IS voice persuasively, ''that this yer
young man, though far-minded and
well intended, has been a little too chip
per and previous i'll ordering out the law
This yer ain t no law matter with me,
boys. 1t ain t to be settled by law pa
pers, nor shot guns and deringers. It's
suthin to be chawed over sociable like,
between drinks. Eff any harm hez bin
done, eff anythin's happened, l IN yer to
'demnlfy the sheriff and make it COM
fable all round. Yer know me, boys.
IN talkin' It's me-Dabney, or Dau-
bigny, which ever way you like it -
But in the silence that followed the
passions had not yet evidently cooled. 1t |
was broken by the sarcastic drawl of Dick |
McklnStry: III them HarrlsOnS don ( |
mind heven had their medders trampied |
over by few white men, why
.'The sheriff ez Identified for that -
interrupted Uncle Ben, hastily.
90 N eff Dick McKinstry don t mind
the damage to his pants in crawlin out |
o. gunshot in the tall grass retorted |
Joe Harrison.
"I'm yer to settle that, boys, - said
Uncle Ben, cheerfully.
''But who III settle this?'' clamored |
the voice of the older Harrison from be-
hind the barn where he had stumbled in
crossing the fallen hay, "Yer's Seth |
Davis lyin in the hay with the top of his
head busted. Who's to pay for that?''
There was a rush to the spot, and
quick cry of reaction.
"Whose work is this?' demanded the
sheriff S voice, with official severity.
The master uttered an instructive ex-
clamation of defiance, and dropping
quickly to the barn floor, would the next
moment have opened the door and de-
clared himself, but Mrs McKinstry,
after single glance at his determined
face, suddenly threw herself before him
with an imperions gesture of silence
Then her voice raug clearly from the
barn:
''Well, if its the hound that tried to
force his way in yer, reckon We kin put
that down to mel - |