The Durham daily globe. (Durham, N.C.) 1889-1894, 1894-05-19
MORE THAN A LIFE.
Ee Had Wronged a Fellow Man, and Went
to His Death.

A"y AZ GILL III N1NN NNDINIH SI1S VI l1I(
great Staked Plain a stranger came rid
ing up from the south. He was a man Of
the border, and we wondered what his err
rand could be. We hailed him as he came
nearer, but he made no answer. On the
outskirts of camp was a tree. He dis
mounted there and ~unsaddled, and as his
horse was turned loose the stranger sat
down in the shade.
Some wondered who he was; no one ap-
preached him. If he hungered or thirsted
or wanted cOmpaniOnship, he would come
to us. Sometimes he looked into camp, as
if searching out every mans face, and
again he looked out over the horrible des-
ert Of sand stretching to the banks of the
PARKWAY Colorado. When he had been
there for two hours, an old man with gray
hair and wrinkled face looked up from the
gun he was cleaning and whispered:
Boys, it is the man as was w~rOnged."
"Who has wronged him?"
Dunno, but he's in this camp. That
man has trailed and trailed, and he's final
ly run his man to earth. Somebody has
got to die before the sun goes down"
We looked from the man seated on his
blankets under the tree into each others
faces. Who Of us had WrOnged HIM? All
of US had wrOngcd our fellow men, but
not SO previously that they thirsted for
our lives and came riding over mountain
and across plain to demand blood.
and yet he is in this camp" persisted
the old man as he shook his head in a sol
emn way and bent over his work.
IF he wants a life, why not come and
take it? He shall tell his story, and we
will give him fair play"
Hes aitin."
'Waiting for what?'
Fur more than blood"
One man tried to force a laugh, but his
face paled as he did so. He scofed at the
man so grimly waiting, but a look of fear
was in his eyes as his lips uttered the words.
The stranger reached US at 8 o'clock in
the morning. He was there at 9, at 10, at
II, at noon. We had our midday meal,
but no one went out to him. While we
ate he sat staring out over the sands, above
which hung clouds of brassy red to tell of
the fierce heat and the dearth of water.
At l o'clock the DID man looked from face
to face and asked:
'Who Of you has done that man a griev-
u wrong?"
No one answered.
tom Phelps, it is you'll" said the old
man as he pointed to the man who had
scoffed.
Then why don't he come imp
He wants more imam your lite. 10
away and sit down and pray to your God
and get ready for your journey"
The man obeyed without a word. The
words he had heard seemed to unnerve
him. AS he drew aside he glanced at the
man under the tree, and Noticed that his
lips were blOodless. He sat down with his
back to the wheel of one of the big wagons
and looked out over the desert. We spoke
in lower tones after he left US, and no one
went near him.
At 2 o'clock some of the men slept. At
8 o'clock we caught the sudden whir OF
wings, and a great buZZard alighted on the
eastern edge Of the camps and walked about
and eyed US curiously and hungrily. At 4
o'clock Tom Phelps arose and looked about
him like one who had slept and dreamed.
The change in him appalled, US. He seemed
to have grown older by 10 years., and he
clutched the wheel as if he had but little
strength. When he sank down again, he
buried his face in his hands.
Five o'clock came and went. At half
past 5 the stranger rose to his feet for the
first time and stood looking into our camp
as if expecting something would happen.
Something did happen. The old man went
over to the figure c~rouching by the wagon
and said:
Tom Phelps, it is time to 60"
The man pulled himself to his feet, look
ed at the old man, at the group of us, at
the man standing beneath the tree, and