The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1895-08-31

| te AAooAN, 1ilaEl4i no AOdoo Va
the dead men held, but goes on dealin
| without a wa1Sa.
"<Where You done been ala day." asked
Nell to the old man. 4 amt sssn you
none whatever since yesterday. =,
"'Why, 1 gets tired an done up lot,
settin again Cherokee last night, says the
old man, AN So Test prowls down in my
| blankets On sleens Till about an hour ago. ,
$50 the old man buys a stack of blues
| an sets them all on the ten. ae was Jes1
then In comes the big man who was pestin
| of the notices former an points a SIX shoot
| er at Gentry an says:
"'Put your hands up-<put them up
| quick, or Pu drill YOU, Old as you be I
don't take no chances
| cat the first word Nell comes down OIL
| her stool like a small landslide, while
| Cherokee brings a gun ~ the front In
flash. The old man was right up with the
procession, too, an stood thar, his gun In
his hand, his eyes a-glieterin an his white
| beard a-curlin like cats. He was clean
strain, he was
"'Let me get a word In, ger A~Ays
Cherokee, plenty cam, AN don't nc fone
| set in his stack unless he's to hand.
does business yere my way, an IN shorely
| due to down the first man who shoots
across any layout of mine. Don't make no
| mistake, or the next census count one
| behind, Shore
"'What be you all amin to celebrate,
anyhow says Jack Moore, gettin the big
mans gun, while Boggs gets Gentry,s.
| Who's Wolfville entertainin yere, Id Ike
to known
"'I'm Wells Fargo detective says the
| big man, IAN this yere, a-pointin to old
Gentry, is Jim Yates, the biggest hoidup
an stage robber between here an Frisco.
| That old tarrapin'll stop stage like
| young one would clock, jest to see what
| into it, He's the man was pastin up the
notice for this mornin.'
"'He's liar says the old man a-gettln
| uglier every minute. Give us our SIX
| shooters an turn us loose, man. If don't
lance the roof of his lyin mouth with the
front sight Of my gun, I'll cash In Tor
hoss thief Or anything else you say
"'What do you say, Enright?' says
Moore. Let us give 'em their gatlin's an
let them lope. I've got money as says the
Wells Fargo bill paster can It take this yere
old Cimmaron little Bit
"'Which I trails in, says Boggs, with
few chips on the same card
tsNo,' says Enright. If this yere old
mans a-rustlin the malls, we can't know
it too quick Wolfville is straight camp
| an don't back no criminal plays, none
whatever
$50 Enright calls a meetin of the
strangers, of which. he was head, an we
all goes over to the New York store to talk
it over Before we done powwows two
minutes up comes old Monte. the stage
driver, all dust an cuss words, an allows
he's been stood up out by the Cow springs
| six hours before an is out the mailbag an
the Adams company's box. We all looked
at old man Gentry, an he shorely seemed
to cripple down a whole lot.
"'Gentry,' says Poets after minute,
T wslkin over to him, II hears you tell Nell
you was sleepin all day. Jest take this
yere committee to your budwer an let's sea
how it looks sofne."
"'The turns agin me- said the old
man, IAN lose. I'licut it short for you
all an tell you right off the reel. I held up
the stage this afternoon mese'f.'
"sThis yere's straight goods, take It,
says Enright, an our duty's plain. Go
over to the corral an get lariat, Moore
"'Don't let Enright hang the old man,
Cherokee, says Nell beginnin to cry.
Please DON t let 'em hang him.
This holdin your gun on your friends
amt no picnic, says Cherokee, aushin up
an turnin paler than ever, but your word
goes with me, Nell. Now, this yere is the
| way we does: I'll make them a talk, an
| you run over to the corral an bring the best
boss you see saddled. I'll still be talkin
when you come back, an you creeps up an
whispers to the old man to make jump
for the pony while covers the deal with
my six shooter. II they gets him then,
| they'll get him In the smoke. It's playin
| it low on Enright an Poets an the rest,
but I'll do it for you, Nell
$50 Cherokee says to the girl, 'Goodby,
an squares himself for what he knows will
be desperate play, an from which it's
goin to be some unusual if he comes out
| alive. Then he begins to talk, an Nell
| makes quiet break for the corral. But
| no boss was needed Cherokee didn't talk
| minute when all at once the old man
tips off his chair in 'pleptic fit A 'plep-
tic fit is very permiscus an tryin, an
when he comes to himself he was camped
Just this side Of the dead line an could
only whisper.
"fCome yere,' says he, a-motionin to
Cherokee. There's stack of blues where
I sets 1T on the ten, open, which you aln't
turned for yet. Take everything got an
put it with it. If it lose, it's yours, OF
course; if it win, give it to the little girl.
"This was all he says, an he dies the
very next second on the list. There was
oyer SO, 900 in his Warbags, an we all pos
sesses ourse'fs Of it mighty prompt an
goes over to the Red Light an puts 1t on
the ten along of the stack of blues. Chero.
kee goes on with the deal, an I'm blessed
if the ten wasn't loser, an Cherokee gets it
all.
"tFsut won't win agin dead man,
says Cherokee, an gives it to Nell, who
wasn't SO superstitious.
't'Do you mind, says Boggs as we all
takes drink after: as how prophesied
this yere the minute i hears Cherokee
a-tellin about hrs jacks up on the eights
the hand the dead man heldg New
York Times.
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