Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1895-01-02
experience, ana ne nau only saIu
"Humphp' and let the matter drop.

i WAS WakGu ny Gu6 SOuuu OI SQOtS OUT
side, and old Salts shook me, saying:
''For Gods sake, Cap, get up! Rich's
loose, and he's gone plumb locoed!" ]
rolled out of my blankets and started
for the door, but the old packer held me
back. ''Look ont, :" he whispered; "he's
crazy as a loon, and he's shooting up
the rock houses. -
AS looked out another shot sounded,
and. peering from tho shelter of the
doorway, I saw Rich about 25 yards
away, crouching in an angle of the cliff,
with pair of revolvers in his hands,
apparently trying to keep off some in.
visible assailant who was lowering III
front of him. He was yelling some warn
ing at the top of his voice and now
and then letting fly shot.
1t was a terribly nerve trying sight,
the half dressed mailman there in the
moonlight, battling with his invisible
foes. 1t was so sudden too. And then
there required to me the scene in the
cave the night before, the agonized look
of terror ON the young fellows face
that till that moment had more than
half believed was a figment Of my own
imagination. The madness was, then,
not so sudden, but had been coming on
all that time, perhaps aggravated by
the CHASTITY stories told the night before
about the fire.
The thought had hardly flashed across
my mind when he emptied the last
shot from his pistols. He snapped them
once or twice, hesitated, and then, like
a man driven desperately to bay, threw
them at something in front of him, and
lodging as though from some terrible
pursuer came racing up the cliff like
hunted jack rabbit. It was horrible,
broken path, strewn with powders. On
the one hand rose the straight wall of
the cliff, and on the other was the bro
ken slope of the talus running down so
feet to the water below. A slip on the
edge would mean death. We yelled to
the fugitive, but he did not heed us and
bounded along from bowlder to bowlder
on the very edge Of the cliff, sometimes
looking back and shaking his fist, and
again gathering himself for spring,
like mountain sheep, and skimming
along at racing speed where it would be
hard to walk even in daytime.
He passed US like flash and was
gone along the terrace, yelling like
mailman, now plainly visible in the
bright patches Of moonlight and again
lost in the shadows. We followed in
hope of bringing him back, but it was
like chasing night hawk. The other
boys were also out and Joined in the
chase.
'tDid you see it, cap?" painted old
Salts as we raced along the ledge, with
the wild figure Of Rich dancing ahead
Of us.
"See what?' I snapped angrily, for I
guessed what he meant, but did not
want to own it.
THE other thing, the By God, cap,
: can see it now. It's follerin him.
But JUS, then the runner stopped and
threw up his hands. The cifif bent
sharp angle and ran straight across his
path. He was 100 yards away, but we
could see hiIl double and turn this way
and that, seeking place of escape,
springing~p nd clutching the smooth
face of the cliff, like rat in water
bucket, trying every direction but the
open path behind him that seemed to
be blocked BY some horrible but to us
invisible shape. And then, to our hor-
ror, he faced toward us, and with his
back to the cliff, fighting desperately
with his hands at something in front of
him, he began to edge out along mar
row ledge that ran out and overhung
the water.
We yelled to him with all our strength
and redoubled our speed, but he did not
seem to hear, and fighting frantically
at something that seemed to be grap-
pling at his throat he staggered back
step by step toward the edge, and then,
borne down as though by some power
full antagonist, he sank to his knees on
the very edge Of the rock, swayed, and
with wild scream toppled over back
ward, clutching at the air, turning and
writhing in his fall, over and over and
down, striking projecting ledge and
bounding off into deep water with a
seething ruck of bubbles and foam that
cWCpU uON IL dAA w lo 1Oou AA e1IC Sh1ACAUs
We picked our way down the talus to
the water in the faint hope Of recover.
ing the body. Salts peered out around
the corner Of the cliff, stepping on what
seemed to be log, but it gave under
his foot, and he drew back with an
oath. There in the still water formed by
the eddy, bobbing up and down where
his foot had set it in motion, was a
bloated corpse, months old, caught in
the tangle Of bushes growing in the
slack water. 1t had apparently been
kept only by the ice cold water. The
face was horrible and beyond recogni-
ton even in the bright moonlight, while
the very clothes looked bleached and
wan from their long immersion. 1t was
soldier, for it wore the long blue
overcoat and cavalry boots, but when
we tried to lift it the cloth came away
in handfuls like wet blotting paper.
Salts turned it over with stick, and
as the long black matted hair came
into view, and in the ear tiny gold
earring, he exclaimed: Lion Corelli
He's floated down stream here and
lodged -
''But what's he doing here?" I ex-
claimed half resentfully, as though the
presence of the corpse had something to
do with the horrible scene we had just
been witnessing.
Salts said nothing but worked his
stick as lever, and the thing in the
water rolled over sluggishly, bringing
the broad back to view, and there. stick
ing behind the shoulder blade, was a
silver mounted dirk.
The old packer stopped and drew it
out and turned it over in the bright
moonlight. Then he pointed to some
lettering on the handle and jerked his
head toward the middle Of the river
''It's his knife," said he.-John W.
Mitchell in San Francisco Argonaut
Life In India.
Missionary work among "India's COR
al StrandS' NAV he yerv iuspirinp but