The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1891-06-27

Finally tore open the garment over
my heart and said:
"Why don't you kill me, if you wish
to, and have done with it"
With half suppressed yell Of amaze
ment the man dropped his knife and
sprang from my bedside straight out
through the window.
My desperation had terrified my Tar
tar friend into the belief that he had at
tempted the life of some demon
/ had hailed the first sight of the
weapon with sort of fierce joy; it was
a probable avenue Of escape from the
miseries of unrequited vengeance.
But the grotesque performance which
had been the result of my impatient
words aroused my mirth.
For long time 1 lay there, fairly
shaking with grim laughter.
When this mood changed sank into
a troubled sleep.
1t was full Of dreamed plans of retri-
button on many persons for multitudin-
Gus ofenses, but they all ended like my
recent reality-in the death of an over
| jaded horse at the supreme moment.
At length was awakened by sound
within my room The moon was now
so far to the westward that its beams
fell across the open trap above the ladder
by which had climed to my loft. And
coming up, and half way through the
floor, l saw the body of another nocturnal
visitor.
His face was in the shadow, but his
bulky figure satisfied me that it was my
host
In another minute he had completed
the ascent and was in my room, crouch
ing on the floor, his face in my direction.
Without arising, he finally started to-
ward me, creeping on all fours,
AS he advanced saw dangling from
his loose robes small, short handled AK
destined no doubt to make an imnedi-
ate plunge into my skull.
This thought sent another fierce tide
of desperation surging through me. The
sting and chagrin of thwarted life pur-
pose was likely to end that night after
all. One resolution made swiftly.
This man should not be interrupted by
word of mine The silence should not
be broken by me-ny experience with
the other would be assassin having at
least taught me wisdom in that respect.
Assassin!
The word startled me.
Would l not also have been an assas-
sin, could my will have prevailed?
Most assuredly, now came to think
of it.
True, the man had 40 long hunted.
determined to Stay him, had imbued his
hands with the blood of my dear ones,
and had even done them worse harm,
but who had appointed me administrator
of vengeance, giving me power over life
and death and the right to answer crime
with crime?
With this first true confrontal of my
real position came an entire revulsion of
feeling.
l am glad now-honestly, heartily glad
that my long cherished violent purpose
had ended fruitlessly. The morrow, if
the morrow ever came, should witness
for me return to worthier things than
man hunting, and with this feeling came
another which | had not experienced be-
fore in months-an intense desire for
life.
This brought me to recollection of
my immediate surroundings, and l cast
another glance in the direction of my
second visitor.
He was still cautiously approaching
me.
When directly before my bed he sur
prised me by seemingly passing under it,
instead of arising to finish me with his
ak, as had expected.
A minute passed, and another. Still
there was no further sign nor sound of
him.
What did it mean? Was he waiting
to enjoy hand to hand tussle with me
when | awoke? Or was he, Tartarlike,
bent on getting double pleasure out of
his foul purpose-frst by anticipation,
then by reality?
The suspense was maadening.
Soon | could bear it no longer.
Pulling myself together for mighty
effort, | sprang from my bed to the
window and plunged through it to the
ground below.
A dense thicket was close at hand, and
into this instantly betook myself.
Scarcely was / out of sight when the
face of my host appeared at the window
whence l had escaped.
The evil working of MS dark features,
which the moonlight plainly revealed,
left little doubt in my mind as to what
my fate would have been had 1 tarried
in that dingy loft much longer.
Fortunately had flung myself upon
my bed with my clothes on, and so, with
the exception of my hat and my saddle
bags, l was none the poorer for my sud- |
den flight. Whether my disappointed |
host attempted to follow me have never
learned. Anyway ne failed to overtske
me, and long before noon was safe at
Utch-glad, rather than otherwise, of /
the trying circumstances which had /
taken murder out of my heart.-Lew
Vanderpoole in Buffalo Express.