Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1894-08-05

|
throw it about with all the rapidly OF
practical juggler.
! Suddenly the door opened, and Jake
entered, dripping from the storm.
"Old Mr.. Bangs" made for the drawer
of distant table in which his revolver
lay hid. When be recognized his WIS.,
itor he abandoned all wsriike inten-
tions, casting at the same time reluct.
ant glance at the whisky bottle, as II
uncertain how long 1t would hold out
against the new comcr's attacks.
Jake slid into the editorial chair after
carefully closing the door, and Old Man
Bangs, with reluctant nod in the
direction OF the bottle, went on with
his task.
"Sit down" said Jake briefly, point
ing 10 a chair, and declining the i'm
piled invitation.
Old man Bangs sat down, and re-
freshed himself with pull az the bot
1 tie.
"It's nice sort OF night up a: the
| Four Corners" ne said cheerfully. II
| guess, IL the river keeps on risin', old
| Hutchinson ill be drowned out afore
morning"
| "Mebbe," said Jake.
! There's a sort OF yarn, when the
rivers that high" said Old Man Bangs,
| lighting a pipe, there's a sort OF yarn,
when the river rises suddenly II carries
away soul with the mornin' light.
But reckon YOU don't take no stock in
such DUN foolishness?"
Reckon l do" said Jake, still speak
Ing. without sign of resentment.
Reckon l do. That's why I've come
down"
J "Jusso," said Old Man Bangs, putting
away with undiminished composure.
"Jusso. What's up, Jake?"
Jake carefully laid his revolver on the
table, Old Man Bangs realized that his
visitor meant basiness, and had him at
disadvantage.
"Some folks at the Four Corners al
low ez this yere paper Of yourn Amt
| high-toned." said Jake carelesSly. You
don't put on frills enough"
Old Man Bangs looked longiDgly at
the table drawer "GuesS l could put
more tone into the conversation II I'd
my usual seat" he said significantly,
and went on smoking.
"Mebbe," said Jake, "mebbe." he
laid the papers he had brought with
| him on the table. "Some OF the folks
az the Corners was wishful OF little
native talent in this one-hoss paper OF
yourn. They allowed, mebbe, you orter
take moro stock in poetry an native
produce, such ez straddle-buss an chip
hunks an things"
"All the fools at the Corners amt
1 - a 40
"Mebbe." said Jake. III lowed ez
they was wrong. Yer don't give Old
Man Bangs a chance | SEE TO 'em.
He's well.meanin',~ is Old Man Bangs
but yer don't give him chance. Now,
il Twas TO sorter drop In on him per-
miskus like, and ask him to give native
talent a show / SEE, why, Old Man
Bangs would be right thar So they
lowed Ia better try"
Old Man Bangs. with studied compo-
sure, stretched out mis- hand and took
up the papers on the table. De recog-
nized a note in his own spidery writing,
which Jake had pinned on the top.
II kinder told EN-" said Jake speak
ing with slow insistencY, IL kinder told
'em ez how I'd only TO take Old Man
|
he'd rear up on end an print itstraIght
off,"
odd Man Bangs rose without word,
walked 10 the composing case and rap
idly began TO "set up" the verses which
Jake had brought, his fingers iying
with all the precision OF machinery.
After half an hours hard work be
screwed ND the type in "form," took
a pull and brought IL TO Jake, who
laborously spelt through the words, still
Keeping one hand on his revolver and
criticising the spelling with sublime
disregard for conventional methods.
"Will that do" growled Old Man
Bangs, with sullen resentment at his
enforced labor
Jake gazed ad miringly at the poem
so rapidly called into being. "Sorter
pretty amt il? I'll tell the folks at the
Corners YOU amt no SLOUGH when you
get chance ct native produce" he ad-
ded admiriugly.
He tucked the printed paper carefully
away In his vest pocket and sprang Tor
the door. Old Man Bangs rushed for
his revolver In the drawer OF distant
table, and, with o dexterity acquired by
long practice, took flying shot al Jake
as he disappeared. then blew out the
light and waited for reprisals, but none
came.
The brown mare scented her master
as he crawled slowly through the dark
ness and hauled himself with difficulty
into the saddle. Gently. Winny, gent
~" he said. Guess you'd better crawl
sorter keerful; Old Mans planted bull
let in my arm. He alters shoots straight
when he's blind drunk"
The mare walked with her bur-
den as it swayed from side TO
side. Something warm ran down
her flank and made her start. For
three hours she paced slowly along
the narrow.path, hating every now and
then when her rider cluDg TO the sad
die and groaned, for be was faint
from loss Of blood. The wind fell
as suddenly as it had risen. Through
the straight trunks OF the pines
the swollen river glimmered here and
there with faint streaks OF light A
rift in the sulIen sky betokened the
coming dawn. With careful steps the
mare plodded onward, hating now and
again TO look round at her master, who
motIoned her on with feeble wave OF
his hand.
When they reached the clearing Jake
slid out O; the saddle and crawled into
the Int, leaving his mare standing at
the door. Selling whisky bottle he
drank long and eagerly, then propped
himself up on his stool by the boys
hpnk and tfOhrened mis- sash. "It's
sorter lucky that old coon missed the
papers," be muttered, and waited.
I'm all right now my arms stopped
bleedin"
Presently a ray of sunlight stole
into the hut, and the shadows fed away
oefore the cheerful singing OF the birds