Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1889-08-29
THE DECAY OF THE TERROR.
The Pop of the Bad Mans Gun Punctuatos
Western Peace No More.


in some of the small towns of New
Mexico, and is encountered in the cat
/ tie country at rare intervals, but his
occupation is gone. The march of
civilization has been too much for
| him. The once numerous and thrifty
class has been thinned down until only
a laughing-stock is left | was in
Cheyenne when Speckled Tom, Biz
Pete. or Wild Charley used to come
dancing into a bar-room with "gun"
in either hand and sing out:
"Now, then, hands up"
Every hand went up.
'Mebbe there's some catamount
we're thinks he kin take the twist out
of my coat-tais!n
If there was he didn't come to the
front
Hands DOWN.
Every hand dropped.
"Im a taking up a collection fur the
benefit of Bill Jackson's wilder, any
body who feels like contributing will
be afforded an opportunity"
We all felt like it. Indeed, every
man was anxious to part with dollar
vi W. ! saw lbht Ntlp us hlAlktl III lliAA
town, each one dying with his boots
on, and | was giving one of them a
drink of water when he shyered.
took a long breath, and died as he
said:
Il was a-tryin' to git up to ten, and
hev stopped short at seven. could
tally eight on you, but I've lost my
popper!"
| followed the Terror to Laramie,
and many an evening as | sat in the
Office of the hotel he entered, with
cat-like tread, aud opened a sudden
fussilade on lamps, keyboard. CELL
ing, and doors. observing at the tiuis:
"Scuse me gentlemen, but it's Just
my way. If any of you don't happen
to like my way, please mention itr'
We always made haste to assure him
that his way was Al, full jeweled, and
extremely pleasant. and that we would
feel honured If he drank at our ex-
pense. One night a boy from Ne
braska, who was strange to our ways.
and who had his ear banked by a bull
let, hauled out and plugged the Terror
plumb center. He expressed his sor-
row when too late. | had my coat
under the TerrOr's head when the DEATH
rattle came to his throat, and he
whspered:
Its mighty queer, isn't it2 | allus
! hated you fur them red whiskers, and
had dropped in tonight to fill you
full Of leadn
followed the Terror up the Gunnjson
valley, He was getting attenuated
and losing his sand. When he had a
street row he sheltered himself behind
a post, aud when he "let gon in a sa-
loon there was a suspicious uncer-
| tainty in his tones as he clicked his
guns aud sad
"Im just waiting fur some kyote
to move an eyeash or stir his tonguel"
We not only moved, but we even
ventured to offer him advice, and by
and by the day came when ! turned a
corner to find him dying at my feet.
was loOsening his neckband as he
opened his eyes and said:
"Dowued by q burned bullwhacker,
who didn know which end of his pis-
tol went OFF,
met the Terror for the last time ut
Custer City. was sitting in a saloon
when the door was kicked open with
a great crash, and he appeared with IA
revolver in either hand, He had long
hair, big hat, and a buckskn suit.
He hungered for gore-not the sort
adulterated with cottonseed oil and
warranted No. /, but the red blood
fresh from the human system and
served up in puddIes on the hopping
floor. He whooped. He yelled lie
cracked Ills heels together. He snap
ped his right-hand gun, but it was a
cheap cartridge. He snapped the
other, but there was only a dull click.
Then a small man with a bald head
and bow legs and consumptive look
came out from behind a curtain and
knocked him down, and flung his
guns into the street, and wbistled for
a policeman. Next morning / was in
court when the Terror pleaded guilty
and added:
Your honor, / made fool Of my
self. If you'lI let me 60 off I'll go
back to pushing wheelbarrow at 10
shillings a day.'
Poor Terror / lament his downfall.
--AelO York sun.