The morning call., 1893-03-26
HIS SHOT WAS TRUE.
An Indianapolis Man Graphically Tells
How He Slew a Mexican.


Minneapolis Journal
Have you ever killed man, colonel?"
The question was asked of Colonel r. J.
Gibson, an American by birth and a native
OF Indianapolis, who halls now from Mexico.
where he has heen in the service of the
Government as a military attache for The
last eight years. The colonel was entertain
ing little party at the West Hotel with
stories of his adventures in the country east
OF the Rio Grande. some of which are full
OF interest for those unused to the ways of
the genus ''greaser." lie seem ed staggered
at the ahruptness of the query and the ex-
preston Of his face changed from gay to
grave in an instant. Leaning forward he
knocked the ashes from his cigar, replaced
ltin his mouth and blew half a dozen de-
hnerate whlffs before answering.
Yes, he said at last in voire that was
snhdued by contrast with his recent speech.
1 Killed man once; the act was commit
ted in seif-defense, but l shall carry the
recollection of 1t TO my grave"
HeTe there was pause and another clOnd
OF smoke from the colonePs long Havana.
His manner indicated that this particu-
lar adventure had left a sore spot in the
mans memory, and no one ventured to
hurry him.
81 don't sneak of this very often" re-
sumed the c1lonel. Il cannot think of it
without recalling the expression Of intense
hate and fury on the face OF tie man as he
died. 1 shot him. and he was dead in two
minutes. lie tell down in bunch
Of mesquite grass, and at first l
thought he was killed outright. | re-
member that the only sensation felt on see
ing him fail was one of intense satisfaction
that my bullet had sped true. Then |
saw his body writhe and twist. his hands
clutchidg at the grass stems, and a feeling
OF humanity overcame the revengeful spirit
10 me. ran to where he lay and turned
him face upward. lie was shot through
both lungs. and the rattle was in his throat
as l reached HIM. The look Of hate and
fear combined on his face was appalling in
IFS intensity. Even as | turned him he spat
at me the blood and saliva that was OoZing
from his llDs. Kissing, gasping and wrlth-
ing IN agony, lie even then stTuggledtn get
the rifle which had fallen beyond his reach
| took flask Of brandy from my pockets,
determined TO relieve the mans dying mo-
ments as much as possible. With supreme
effort lie struck the flask and sent it spinning
out OF my hand away into the brush. 1t
was his last act Tie next instant he lay
dead al my feet"
There was silence for fully a moment.
The colonel WAS blowing dense clouds of
smoke again. and II seemed that he didn't
Intend TO fnish the story.
What did you kill him for, colonel 2"
asked somebody,
'Ehl On hired him At San Antonio to
act as guide OH a hunting trip When we
had been out week or two | mad come TO
the conclusion from several actions of his
that my servant would bear watching. We
were camped in river bottom one evening,
and expected to get some game about sun
down. l was sitting down on a camp stool
reading copy of an old newspaper that
hsnpened TO be among my traps.
Something struck Inc on the cheek with
sharp sling. and there was the report of a
rife grasped my Winchester and Jumped
up, putting my hand To my face. Blood was
streaming from 1t. Over in the bush. Gfty
feet away, ! saw little cloud of white
smoke slowly issuing The bushes moved,
and l knew that my enemy was there.
Quick as thought threw up the rife and
fired almost al random. There was a shrek
OF pain, an upward plunge Of n dark figure,
then man burst through the brush ana
fell face down. The Winchester had done
its work"