Waterbury evening Democrat., 1894-05-29
MORE THAN A LIFE.
He Had Wronged a Fellow Man, and Went
to His Death.

1 Wen
to His Death.
One Sunday morning as the wagon trair
lay in camp on the eastern edge of the
great Staked Plain a stranger came rid
| ing up from the SOUTH He was a man OF
the border, and we wondered what his er
| rand could be- We hailed him as he came
| nearer, but he made no answer. On the
| outskirts of camp was 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 az
II searching out every mans face, and
| again he looked out over the horrible des-
ert Of sand stretching to the banks Of the
faraway 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, 1t is the man as was wronged. -
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
"A
of us had wronged 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 i'll this camp" persisted
the old man as he shook his head in SOL
emn way and bent over his work.
If he wants life, why not come and
take it? He shall tell his story, and we
will give him fair play"
He's waitin. -
Waiting for what?''
Fur more than BLOOD
One man tried to force laugh, but his
face paled as he did SO. He scoffed at the
man SO grimly waiting, but look of fear
was in his eyes as his lips uttered the words
The stranger reached us at o'clock in
the morning. He was there at g. 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 old man looked from face
to face and asked:
''Who of you has done that man gricv-
Gus wrong?"
No one answered.
''Tom Phelps, it is you'' said the old
man as he pointed to the man who had
scoffed
Then why don't he come in?"
HE wants more than your life. Go
away and sit down and pray to your God
and get ready for your Journey"
The man obeycd without word. The
words he had heard seemed to unnervc
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
O'Clock we caught the sudden whir of
wings, and IL great buzzard alighted on the
eastern edge of the camp and walked about
and eyed us curiously and hungrily. At
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 crouching by the wagon |
and said:
''Tom Phelps, it is time to go.
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 |
then turned his face to the desert and stag
gered away. No weapon, no water no |
food. OF what use? 1t was a quarter of a |
mile to the edge of the sands He did not |
turn until the grass was no longer beneath |
his feet. Then he faced us for Il brief look, |
his farewell of earth.
No one called to him, no one waved an |
adieu. He had wronged Il fellow man, not |
in trade, not in business, not as we wrong
men. 1t was wrong which wrecked lives |
and would endure forever. We felt it must |
be SO we watched the criminal take his L
last look of earth and set his face to the |
east. A food of sunset followed him out !
on the sands. He looked neither to the /
right nor left, but straight before him. He
went on and on till the sun went down,
till darkness fell to blind our eyes. When
we turned to look for the man under the
tree, he had disappeared. He had come for
a life. He had sent that life out upon the
heated sands to die of hunger and thirst,
to feel the horror of the night to be Kissed
at by serpents and stung by scorpions, to
die a score of times before the vultures
would dare descend to the feast.
NJ. QUAD.