The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1893-06-07

ivoFy-handied one. He called il ivory
an expert would have known it for bone,
But he vas not 50 proud Of that as he
was OF his bowie-knife. lie loved that
dearly, and be liked to run his thumb
nail rattling down the seven notehes Of
il. he was proud Of the old man, for he
knew his name WAS famous.
1t is curious thing in that west-but
have watched it grow-hoE the desire
to slay comes to a man. So soon as be
reverts to those plains his soul goes back
to the time when slaughter was the whole
duty of man. Out there there IS mother
means Ofimmediate notoriety and n0to-
riety in the west IS he breadth Of life
Among the young men as they sit by the
FIRE and tell stories-Of the bloody deed:
Of the james boys, OF OF Ben Thompson
or Harding, or even repeat how the tight.
ing jim Wilson took the Matthewsons
or how Whiteiaw was shot in II places
at Austin and yet walked home and re-
coyered-thsir blood begins to boil and
their eyes sparkle. The desire to kill
comes on them.
And when they told these yarns about
the campfire young Flood felt the han
die Of his eowie-knife, lie iteAed to
slay and wished he dared. There WAS
death in the very feel Of It, for the knife
was not dead. It was living It had
drunk the blood OF seven. one night he
went out on the barren plains, where
the moonlight gIimmered on the white
dust; and he played with his knife in
that light. II became fetish-alive -
he felt it jump in the sheath. lie couldn't
understand It, but he felt the knife IN
derstood. The knife knew far better than
be did what it wanted. It was a strange
growth in that boys mind, ard it spread
cancer wise, and took him. For weeks
and months he lusted FOR any enemy.
lie desired him, and yet he was not
wholly brave. tie thought and thought
again Of what he should DO when he
dared.
Could he slay Williams in a fair ight ?
Would the knife be good against smiths
six-shooter? He didn't know, but he de-
sired to try. And the knife was always
speaking TO him. They used 70 ask him
whether he was any relation to the other
sam Flood and then they told Of sam
Floods bloody deeds. They told him
how this other Flood mad slain Garcelon,
fighting at Dzllas-how he had shot
Becker-how he had stabbed BrutOn
down At Galveston Aud then sam,
young sam, used to put his thUmb-nail
In the hrs; notch and say "Garcelon,
and for q second notch he would say
-Bruton, and then he would add anoth-
eT dead man, and another, and another.
But lie could not hear Of more than SIX,
and the six notches Of the knife we're SAT
isfed, but the seventh gaped like an open
grave. He could not Ill il, and il began
- speak strange things TO him. He
heard the chorus Of the SIX dead men,
and as his mind ran down the gamui Of
the six satisfied noiches they sang in
chorus, too, But there was the empty
open notch, still Ike empty an grave His
father must have made mistake when
he put that notch in-a mistake. Old
Flood had only killed six with the knife,
according 10 common reckoning, Whom
else had he killed ? said the boy. And
50 the desire Of homicide arose within
him-the desire for netoriety on the
pIains-the hunger 10 kill somebody, it
hardly mattered who it Was. To feel the
knife slide through warm flesh would be
a pleasure to him-a strange and terrible
untried pleasure. But the knife knew
the knife knew well; and after the long,
long time Of rest It desired to kill again.
As Flood aimlessiy yet eagerly desired
to hate someone, hate came 10 him For
night by night his wandering mind stay
ed upon one nan, Bill Gardner. Now,
Gardner was the only one in the crowd
a that roundup who was younger than
Flood-and he was better man with the
cattle. He had been brought up with
them from child he understood the
ways Of a steer and the ways Of a COW,
and his lariat vas sure-he never missed.
Besides that, he could put the six shots
out of his ganin the space Of a hand at
% PAGES. He had shot a prairie dog
when he was at full gallop. He was a
good man and a kind man, and he made
them laugh and kept the camp going.
But somehow Flood didn't like him, or
the knife didn't-Flood didn't know
which. 1t was a partnership, for the
knife was alive and urgent that he
knew And his hand twitched, and he
felt the knife, and as he felt it he thought
it moved.
There is a legend in the south Of Eu-
rope, in Roumania; kind of a song, a
folk-song, tells it. The knives leap out
Of their sheaths at night and roam the
country, and take their fiji Of blood and
come back, tap at the window paues and
Ask to be let in-like tired dogs that
have been out sheep killing and come
home full. And Floods nOtched knife
was become alive and conscious. Heand
i went thirsty. Bot if the knife was
brave Flood was not. 1t was only the
desire 10 kill he had, not the desire 10
light But at last the knife rs he handled
L and looked az it and saw its keen edge
1n the front and the thumb-leagth on the
pack. which was sharp, too-and as he
put his thumb on the point and pricked
himself till the blood came-it urged
him and drove him on. 1t was the knife
hat was chief in this bloody partnership
md the spirit Of the father was second
md the boy waslike aeonduit or a fiume
carrying the fathers sill unsatisied de-
ire for blood.
There was a little talk az times in the
amp about Flood when he was not there.
They didn't quite like him at least, all
IF them did not. For there was a curious
ook in his eyes. He was little bit dan
yerous he was not quite open.
II don't think he could fight" said
one of the boys, ''but he'd kill man
quick enough, reekon"
"Kill thunder" said Gardner "he1l
kill no one-he amt got it in him."
u don't know" said another @Have
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