Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1894-10-17

Transformed in his new garh, he
left his lodgings to present himself
once more to his possible employer.
His way led past one Of the large gam
bling saloons. II was yet too early to
find the dry goods trader disengaged;
perhaps the consciousness OF more re-
cent, civilized garb emboldoned him
to mingle more freely with strangers,
and he entered the saloon. He was
scarcely abreast of one of the faro
tables when man suddenly leaped mp
with an oath and discharged revol-
yer in his face. The shot missed. Be-
fore his unknown assailant could fire
again the astonished Flint had closed
upon him and instinctievly clutched |
the weapon. A brief but violent
struggle ensued. Flint felt his
strength failing him, when suddenly |
a look of establishment came into the
furious eyes ofhis adversary, and the
mans grasp mechanically relaxed.
The half-freed pistol, thrown upwards
by this movement, was accidently !
discharged point blank into his tenn
pies, and he fell dead. No one in the
crowd had stirred or interfered.
you've done for French Pete this
time, Mr.. Fowler" said voice at his
elbow. He turned gaspingly, and
recognized his strange benefactor,
Flynn. 81 call you to witness, gen.
tlemen," continued the gambler, turn
ing dictatorially to the crowd, chat
this man was first attacked and was
unarmed." He lifted Flint's limp and
empty hands and then pointed to the
dead man, who was still grasping the
weapon. "Come!" He caught the
half-paralyzed arm of Flint and
dragged him into the street.
"But," stammered the Mortified |
Flint, as he was borne along, "what
does it all mean! What made that
man attack me?"
~ reckon it was case of shooting |
on sight, Mr.. Fowler; but he missed
it by not waiting to see if you were
armed. 1t wasn't the square thing,
and you're all right with the crowd
now, whatever he might have had agin
you"
"But," protested the unhappy
Flint, 81 never laid eyes on the man
before, and my name isn't Fowler"
Flynn halted and dragged him in
doorway. "Who are you?" he asked
roughly.
Briefly, passionately, almost hys-
terically, Flint told him his scant
story. An odd expression came over
the gamblers face.
"Look here" he said abruptly. al
have passed my word to the crowd
yonder that you are dead broke
miner called Fowler. / allowed that
you might have had some row with
that Sydney duck, Australian Pete, in
the mines That satisfied them. If |
go back now, and say it's lie, that
your name amt Fowler, and you
never knew who Pete was, they'll jest
pass you over to the police to deal
with you, and wash their hands OF it
altogether. You may prove to the
police who you are, and how that
clerk mistook you, but it will give
you trouble. And who is there here
who knows who you really are?"
"No one," said Flint, with sudden
hopelessness
"And you say you are an orphan,
and amt got any relations Twin that
you're beholden tor"
"No one"
"Then take my advice, and be Fow-
Ter, and stick to it! Be Fowler until
Fowler turns up and thanks you for
it, for you've saved Fowlers life, as
Pete would never have funked and
lost his grit over Fowler as he did
with you, and you've a right to his
name"
He stopped, and the same odd,
superstitious look came into his dark
eyes.
Don't you see what all that
means? Well, I'll tell you. You're in
the biggest streak of luck man ever
had. You've got the cards in your
own hands! They spell Fowlerr
Play Fowler first, last, and all the
time. Goodnight, and good luck,
Mr.. Fowler"
The next mornings journal con-
tanned an account of the justifable
killing of the notorious desperate and
ex-convict, Australian Pete, by
courageous young miner by the name
of Fowler. San act of tirmness and
daring" said the Pioneer, (Which
will go far to counteract the terror
ism produced by those lawless
ruffians"
In new suit of clothes, and with
this paper in his hand, Flint sought
the dry goods proprietor -the latter
was satisfied and convinced. That
morning Harry Flint began his career
as salesman and as "Shelby Fowler"
From that day Shelby Fowler's
career was one of uninterrupted pros
perity. Within the year he became a
partner. The same miraculous for
tune followed other ventures later.
He was mill owner, mine owner, bank l
director-a millionaire ! He was pop I
ular, the reputation of his brief l
achievement over the desperate kept {
him secure from the attack of envy {
and rivalry. He never was confronted {
by the real Fowler. There was no t
danger of exposure by others-the one {
custodian of his secret, Tom Flynn, t
died in Nevada the year following. '
He had quite forgotten his youthful t
past, and even the more recent lucky t
portmanteau remembered nothing,
perhaps, but the pretty face of the {
daguerreotype that had fascinated 1
him. There seemed to be no reason I
why he should not live and die as
Shelby Fowler.
His business a year later took him
to Europe. He was entering train at 4
one of the great railway stations of =
London, when the porter, who had !
just deposited his portmanteau in a 8
compartment, reappeared at the win ,
dow, followed by young lady in )
-.
"Beg pardon, sir, but handed you '
the wrong portmanteau. That be- /
longs to this young lady. This is |
yours" G
Flint glanced at the portmanteau ,