The Mason County journal. [volume] (Shelton, W.T.) 1886-1927, 1890-08-15
THE DECAY OF THE TERROR.
The Petulant Pop Of the Bad Mans Gun
Punctuates Western Peace No More.

The Petulant Pop Of the Bad Mans Gun
Punctuates Western Peace No More.
The Terror shows up once In awhile
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 civil
ization has been too much for him. The
once numerous and thrifty class have
been thinned down until only laugh
ing stock is left. was in Cheyenne
when Speckled Tom, Big Pete or
Wild Charley used to come dancing
into a bar room with a ..un" in either
hand and sing out:
'Now, then, hands upl''
Every hand went up.
''Mebbe thar's some catamount yere
thinks he can take the twist out of my
coat tailsl''
If there was he didn't come to the
front.
Hands down."
Every hand dropped.
I'm taking up collection fur the
benefit of Bill Jackson's wilder, and
anybody who feels like contributing
will be afforded an opportunity"
We all felt like it. Indeed, every
man was anxious to part with a dollar
or two. | saw four Terrors killed in
that town, each one dying with his
boots on, and | was giving one of them
a drink of water when he shivered,
took a long breath, and died as he
said:
Il was a-trying to git up to ten, and
hev stopped short at seven. could
tally eight on you, but I've lost my
popperp'
followed the Terror to Laramie,
and many an evening as | sat in the
Office of the hotel he entered, with cat
like tread, and opened sudden fusil-
lade on lamps, keyboard, ceiling and
doors, observing at the fms:
"'Scuse me, gentlemen, but it's just
my way. If any of you don't happen
to like my way, please mention itl'
We always made haste to assure
him that his way was Al, full jeweled
and extremely pleasant, and that we
should feel honored if he drank at our
expense. One night boy from Ne
braska, who was strange to our ways,
and who had his ear barked by 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 whis-
pered:
ITS mighty queer isn't it2 / allus
hated you fur them red whiskers, and
l had dropped in tonight to fill you
full of lead"
followed the Terror up the CUM
son valley. He was getting attenuated
and losing his sand. When he had a
street row he sheltered himself behind
post, and when he ''let go" in sa-
loon there was a suspicious uncer-
tainty in his tones as he clicked his
guns and said:
I'm just awaiting fur some kyote
to move an eyelash 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
corner to find him dying at my feet.
was loosening his neck band as he
opened his eyes and said:
'Downed by a burned bullwhacker,
who didn't know which end of bis
pistol went off"
met the Terror for the last time at
Custer City. was sitting in saloon
when the door was kicked open with
great crash, and he appeared with a
revolver in either hand. He had long
hair, a big hat and buckskin 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 puddles on the newly
mopped floor. He whooped. He
yelled. He cracked his heels together
He snapped his right hand gun, but it
was a cheap cartridge. He snapped
the other, but there was only dull
click. Then small man with 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 whistled for
policeman. Next morning l was in
court when the Terror pleaded guilty,
and added:
''Your honor, I made fool of my
self. If you'll let me off I'll go back
to pushing a wheelbarrow at ten shil
ings day."
Poor Terrorl I lament his down
fan.-New York Sun.