The Savannah tribune. [volume] (Savannah [Ga.]) 1876-1960, 1888-01-21

WouId occur before nlghtfau. The men
must have known that his arrival would
be retarded until late in the night, and
what they undoubtedly knew was, that
in the chimney, on a ledge, was sum
of money, approaching four thousand
five hundred dollars, destined to pay off
the hands. As the sequel shows, have
never forgotten that particular night.
1t was beautiful, way up there among
the SUBMITS, mellowcd by clear south
ern sky. Our sister-circle had been
unusually full of cheap gossip hilarious
romps, wild mountain poems, lively
dance music, and we'll remember that,
as the oil grew less in the great parlor-
lamp, we sang "Wait for the Wagon"
hoping, too, that it would come up the
mountain side with our manly protector.
But even in the mountains, when the
man in the mopn firts with us, we must
get into our retiring costumes, even if
our chief be not at home; and so we
did, knowing all the time our fearful
responsibility; that fortune in the chin
ney, those avaricious, dissatisfied men in
the cabirs-for many had been dis
charged, and were only awaiting their
wages. But our dogs were on their
watchful qui vive My brother-in-law
had a kennel of the finest known at that
time in Tennessee and they were all
chained up at convenient posts around
the house, for he we'll knew the des-
perate character of those who made up
the little colony. Not only all of this,
but, girls with ever-fowing spirits as
we were, each was provided with re-
volver and we were all dead shots.
While we were discussing, in no very
cheerful, and certainly way-down- deep
tones, the long absence of our brother
in-Iaw from home, the dogs set up a
wild howl all around the grounds. We
sank, almost stupefed, absolutely dis
mayed, to the floor We looked at each
other. Speech did not prevail, and
while the nocturnal chorus without was
of more than anvil majesty, we could
sec through the chinls of our rough
fashioned mountain home the forms of
men emerging from the bush. This, of
course, was a moment of terror to us all;
and the white of the gauze curtains
freshly washed, was black in comparison
to the pallor on my sisters faces, good
souls as all of them were, and are.
What should we do2 How should we
act? Whittier fly?
During this sufficiently sensational
period of my life the incessant barking
went on, when suddenly there was a
much more terrifying incident. The
dogs became still. What did it mean2
"They are throttling the dogs!' my
sister Maddie said. ''Oh! what shall |
we DOE
Then l said; "rll whistle like a
mani make believe l am man, tool'
this response with bravado meant
to inspire my sisters with courage
enough to straighten out their exceed
ingly timber members.
What did l do? l started the tune OF
" Old Bob White and not having the
largest mouth south of Mason's and
Dixon's line, my nervous quicker even
made me smile as I surveyed myself in
the mirror opposite, yet bugIed with !
true masculine vigor the lines:
"OId Bob White,
Do your dogs bite?
MOI They don't,
But they bark all night"
which l thought would be appropriate
to the occasion. While reeling off this
air with consequential audacity, Maddie
heard one of the would be robbers and
assassins say:
"Why ne must be home. Somebody
has lied to us"-meaning our protector,
whom all Of the men feared as much as
they respec ed him.
kept up this whistling-I am afraid
to say exactly how long, but it must
have been for nearly half an hour; and
sure it is that l almost completely ex-
hausted my repertoire Of songs Of the
period, put a heavy drain on my facial
muscles, my courage, and my physique
too.
But the bandit-herd outside, I knew,