Pullman herald. [volume] (Pullman, W.T. [Wash.]) 1888-1989, 1894-06-01

whir of wings crow alighted ON it.
Job Ayers made dash at it with his
cap. At the very instant that he did so
the rear of the sledge sank in the treach-
erous soil, the cannon gave a sudden
lurch and the arm he had flung ont was
caught between the cannon and sledge
and hopelessly crushed. The unfortu.
nate man was carried into camp and his
arm amputated.
The work of the siege went on day
after day. Foraging parties were sent
somewhat stale and monotonous. and
there was excellent game in abundance
in the vicinity. Sanders and Goodwin
made two of such a party one pleasant
May afternoon. Often during their
hunting they noticed a crow circling
near them. They were about return
ing to camp when Goodwin, striding
across some low shrubbery in search of
fallen bird, thrust his foot into an
open foxtrap, which closed around his
ankle, the sharp points penetrating deep
into the flesh. His cry for help was
echoed by the "caw! caw!" of the crow.
1t was with infinite difficulty that his
companions released him. Pale, and
half fainting with pain and loss of blood,
he looked up at the crow, still near.
Il believe it's a witch" he cried.
Peg Wesson, by heavens exclaimed
Sanders, recalling the witch's curse. He
lifted his loaded fowling piece, took
steady aim and fired. Cav! cav! cav"
screamed the crow, derisively winging
its onward way unhurt. Martin San
ders was a renowned shot and never
known to miss such mark before. His
companions noted his failure with
amazement, and though they thought it
a poor use for good powder and shot,
another and another fired, but with the
same result.
alt is surely WITCH cried Goodwin,
who, lying on the grass with hastily
bandaged ankle, was looking grimly on.
1T is surely witch, and not TO be
brought down by leaden bullet. Moth
ing but silver will bring down witch"
That's true" cried Martin Sanders.
He hastily tore his silver sleeve buttons
from his wrist. He wrenched them
asunder 1t was the work of minute
to load his gun with one of the pieces.
The crow was still within gunshot. He
took deliberate aim and fired, Wounded
in the leg, it futtered downward in
lessening circles and apparently fell i'll
some bushes close by. But careful and
prolonged search failed TO discover it.
For some DAYS the woodmen who
passed Peg NELSON'S hut morning and
night on their way to and from their
work in the forest noticed that there was
no smoke in the chimney.
Pegs off on her broomstick,' said
one.
There's i'll luck for somebody some
where said another.
1t was mild and sunny May after
noon and they were busily hewing in
| the woods when they heard a faint moan
ing. They heard it repeatedly, and at
length, following the sound, they came
upon Peg Wesson lying on the ground
and unable to get up.
How came she there? They could
have sworn that she had not passed
| them on the path, and who could have
made her way through the impenetrable
jungle beyond?
Though loath to touch her they helped
her to her feet. She was unable TO take
a step. Her leg was broken. rude
| litter was made and she was taken
home. uttering maiedictions all the way.
A doctor was called. When he ex-
amined the fracture he extracted there
| from a small piece of silver which he
carefully preserved.
When the soldiers returned from
| Louisburg, victorious and jubilant at
having destroyed the hornets nest that
| had long been torment to Gloucester,
| they heard with amaZement what had
befallen Peg Wesson, for i'll comparing
dates they found that she had fallen
with the broken leg at the very time
that the crow had been shot.
| Sanders produced his part of the
sleeve buttons. The doctor produced
his. They We're precisely alike.
They were linked together again and
carefully preserved by Martin Sanders
and his descendants. Indeed they are
kept to this day in the family for aught
| know to the contrary. They were
brought ont and exhibited whenever
this remarkable story was told, and it
was very often told.
Peg WessOn never recovered from her
injury. She died soon after and received
decent burial, but there is no stone bear
ing her name in the old graveyard.
Poor maligned, prosecuted Peggyi For
thee and such as thou there should in
deed be, there must be, some happier