Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1889-02-20

WIN ner BACK 70 ii, her biearcd eyes dim
with tears and her shriveled lips trembling
@Bcys,' she said, in Der serin. cracked
vuice, "ye amt goin' down TO Camp Fair
visv to hang that feller-I tell ye, ye ainti
Ys shanr.- She drew an old pistol from
beneath her apron IS she spoke and bald Il
aloft with a trembling bony arm and
wrinklei fingers "rn shoot the first Teller
that tries to 60 out this door. III do it,
mr. Her bead dropped suddenly to her
breast, her arm fell to her side and the pistol
to the floor. She put both Of her bony hands
to her face and sobbed aloud. With her
head still bent low, she said:
Boys. lookee here. Some Of you hev
knowed ME fer twenty year, an We knowcd
my man that's dead an gone. There's men
in this cabin that I've fed an keered for
when they was homeless an sick In all the
twenty-nine year that old Mis- Dill has lived
in the mountings the latch string o her cabins
hung out free to all Nobody want ever
turned away, as some Of ye mighty well
know I've gin favors wherever | could,
an amt never asked none back. I've had
my trials an tribbylations-God knows l
haye,-an' the wust of IN all has come to-
night, fer. boys, that man yer goin' out ter
hang is-is-my boy-the only baby ever
had, an it's ten long year sence seen himl
"DIl want my fust husband His name
was Hobbs an the boy was named after i'm
Henry Hobbe Some O. you may mind o.
seeing i'm fifteen and twenty year ago at our
cabin down in Cinnamon Gulch-a purity,
black eyed curly headed boy He got that
scar down in that gulch, an them three
fingers came of in bear trap Dill had set
and the boy fell into it. He allus was wen-
turesome boy an never stopped at nothin'
Some Of We mind the big excitement they was
down in Cinnamon Gulch fifteen year ago,
when they was a saloon under ev'ry tree an
they WANT no such thing as law an order
1t want to be wondered at that a-many .
boy went astray then, an my Henry was
among 'em. He hadn't never had chance
to be dif'rent He didn't know how decent
folks lived, an I-I-wan't fit to learn him,
cause didn't know how myself. He took to
gamblin' an to drink, with plenty to coax
the boy on, an when the excitement died
away he ran of an amt ever heerd Of i'm
but once sence; an he's the man they want
ye to go an help hang. Ye won't do it, boys,
will yer
Her voice had changed to one Of earnest
entreaty and her old apron was held to her
streaming eyes
Boys" she added, couldn't ye git em to
give the boy another chancef Tell 'em he's my
boy. Bring i'm here to me an let me go away
nit frx 40, ;< e.
the sake of old timesi Go an bring my boy
to me. Hang me If you must have life for
the one my boy took. won't say a word
agin' that; only let me see my boy first"
Every man in the cabin filed silently out Of
the room and disappeared in the darkness,
going hurriedly down tho trail 1t was al
most daybreak when they came back, silent
and stern, white faced, slender, trembling
man with them, his arms still bound and the
fear and horror Of death still In his face
Old Mrs Dill met them at the door They
led her son to her little room and left her
alone with him.
"Yed better be ready to start by day
light" was all 81 Sharpe said as no closed the
door Of the little room and went back to the
fireplace where the other men sat looking
silently at the glowing Goals.
The next day had hardly dawned when the
gray haired old woman and the tall, hand
some young man came from the little room,
and, with brief good-by to the men of Camp
Paradise, went slowly down the trail to meet
the outgoing stage
They'll he all right, said 81 Sharpe. "But
there amt another person on Gods earth
they'd give that chap up to but old Mis- Dill,
an I've an idee he'll hang yit some day spite
Of her."
But there lives today In one of the coast
towns of the Pacific in California man OF
wealth and influence, a good citizen and an
honored man, who has but lately buried his
mother, white haired old lady, to whom he
was said to be the most dutiful:and affection
ate of sons. On the plain white stone at her
grave Is the NAME Margaret Dill Rex In
New York Mercury.