The weekly Union times. [volume] (Union C.H., South Carolina) 1871-1894, 1892-09-02

an tnlnKS ne got jest muCn 1lgnC
make whisky as anybody else; shoots
revenoo offuser th't mos likely shot at
him first, an Uncle Sam offers five hun
dred fer i'm It's tough, no use talkiu'."
And Mr.. Stiles chirped to his horse,
which was nibbling at the branches of
the trees by the roadside.
Four hours later Bob Stiles, deputy
marshal, rode into a little valley into
which the by-road had led him from the
main trail. He looked to his revolvers
carefully, to see that they were all right
for the emergency which was quite prob
able, and decided on a plan of action.
He dismounted, aud proceeded on foot
toward the shabby, tumble.down log
the hillside above him.
AS he reached the edge Of the clearing,
he halted, and took note of the cabin
aud its surroundings, observing, with
some surprise, the neat appearance of the
garden and yard and the unavalling re-
pairs that had been attempted on the old
cabin. "Kind O. decent, pears like"
thought the deputy marshal. as he
sneaked around to advance on the house
from the rear. "Wonder where all tn
folks is2'
As he emerged from the thicket at tho
rear Of the house and started toward it,
two or three scrawny ours rushed at him,
barking fiercely, but no one appeared to
silence them. H. spoke to them quietly,
and presently they drew off, somewhat
Modified. but still growing suspiciously.
Then the deputy-marshal tip-toed quietly
up to the open window and looked in.
On tumbled, forlorn- looking bed, at
the other end Of the long room, lay,
propped up with the bed clothing, q
young woman, evidently in the last stages
of consumption. She was breathing in
short, quick gasps-ightiug bravely for
few minutes respite from the end that,
Bob could see, was so near. Her wasted
hands rested on the heads of two little
children who were crying softly, in their
uncomprehending way, in sympathy with
the ad-shouldered man who, with his
arms about the dying one, as If to hold
her back from the awful shadows, was
sobbing his heart out.
"Oh, Sue, CANT let ye gol Don't
Moll-they-they-"
"Don't, Tom," came in weak voice
from the form on the bed. "It's dretful
hard t. 20 an leave you all, but it had t.
be. In, glad ye think I've ben a good
wife to ye-an'--Ton-promise me
yell allus be good t. our children
won't ye, Tom, dear2"
The man only sobbed and nodded his
head. The slight form his arms elapsed
was shaken by fit Of coughing that was
awful to hear, and the deputy marshal,
whose cheeks were wet with unwonted
tears, murmured: "Poor thing; oh, poor
thing"
Then the weak voice continuedi
81 know ye will, Tom. Pm only
afeared O. one thing; what'll tn babies
do ef-ef they sh'd ketch ye an put ye
in jail2 Be keerful, Tom, oh, be keer-
full, f'r their sakes, won't yeS My pore
babies-my pore babies ~
There came another fit of coughing,
more terrible than the other, during
which Bob Stiles wiped his eyes on his
sleeve, with nervous fingers pulled the
money had won the night before from
his pocket, rolled it up and threw it on
the floor of the cabin. Then he turned,
without another look at the man he had
come to arrest, and hurried to the spot
where he had left his horse, sobbing all
the way-for Bob Stiles, ga bier, still
had heart, though he had thought it
buried in the grave of the wife whose
young life had gone from her just as this
woman's was going.
1t was late in the afternoon when the
deputy marshal rode up to the house
where Hamilton de Vries, ex-banker,
was staying. Mr.. de Vries was seated
on the front-steps, smoking cigar, and
looked cool and comfortable, and as
much at peace with himself and the
world as if he were the honest, upright,
Christian gentleman his friends and ac-
guaintances, up to three weeks ago, had
believed him. He was, as the officer
rode up, trying to arrange with himself
for trip to Mexico by the shortest pos.
sble route. Unavoidable circumstances,
unnecessary to state, had brought him
here, aud unavoidable circumstances
made it desirable for him to get away as
soon as possible. He was thinking how
easily he could have got to Canada, If he
had not been obliged to come here first,
when O voice addressed him:
"Ah, Mr.. d. Vries, see ye've cut of
y'r whiskers."
Mr.. de Vries spiaug to his feet, pale
as death, and faced the smiling horse
man, who sat looking at him from
point near the corner of the house,
around which he had quietly come. Mr..
de Vdes would have drawn his revolver,
but it was not so convenient to his hand
as were the weapons of his visitor, SO he
tried other tactics.
81 guess you're mistaken, my friend.
My name is White-James White"
"Oh, no, 1t ain't," said the deputy
marshal, easily. "I've got good reasons
for calin' ye Vrios, an reckon ye
hadn't better kick none. I'll have T. ask
ye, moreover, pack up an ride over T.
Columbus with me-"
But Mr.. de Vries did not want to go.
He called on Jem Whatcom, proprietor
OF the house which was a sort Of board
ing house used by sportsmen during the
fishing aud hunting seasons--to witness
ths at he was what he claimed To be. hut