The Somerset reporter., 1895-11-14
A WASTED LIFE.

first met the deacon under rather
odd circumstances. A persistent tosch
of rheumatism under my left shoulder,
which defied liniments and plasters,
sent me to the Hot Springs, seven miles
north of Boonopolis, southern Califor-
MIA.
To reach the Hot Springs the traveller
crosses five miles of desert country,
where the cactus fiourishes like the
green bay tree, and the coyote shrills
at night his peculiar lay. Then he
climbs the grade, - a rise of 1000 feet
in two miles. This part of the way is
over a mountain road which skirts pre-
cipices and winds in aud out among
canyons in way that makes timid peo-
pie dizzy.
One beautiful winter afternoon Dea-
con Hardwicke started for the hotel.
That morning he had procured at Boon
opolis a livery team and driver, and
had been taken to different points about
the valley, looking at lands which were
offered for sale. Having completed his
inspection, he was driven to the foot of
the grade, and there he dismissed the
team.
He had in his hands little black
leather wallet containing deeds, and
as he walked along in his slow and dig
nified fashion, his eyes bent on the
ground, he looked like gentleman of
leisure, perhaps wealthy eastern tour
list out for an airing
At the foot of the grade is little
ranch house, and just beyond the road
makes a turn almost at right ang les
and skirts the edge of q canyon, where
the traveller is hidden from view in
either direction.
In this angle of the way man was
waiting for the afternoon stage, which
was about due. 1t carried the mail for
the hotel and sometimes considerable
express matter, to say nothing of the
passengers.
But the deacon happened to come
first and as he turned the corner, plod-
ding slowly along, he heard smooth,
clear, firm, but not impatient voice say
'Wait a moment, sir. And kindly
hand over that gripsack and your mon
ey."
oldlOidS up tliO uCdCOl DC1bltl d DlR
revolver pointed at his head
Deacon Hardwicke was surprised and
grieved. He was not coward. He had
lived in many lawless community,
had seen men lynched, had himself been
a target for bullets more than once If
he had been armed, he would have
fought-as he afterward assured me.
But the appalling fact flashed over
him that he had no gun, and that
the entlemanly stranger had the
drop" on him.
Come" said the highwayman in q
more threatening tone, 81 mean bust
ness. Drop your wallet. Give me your
money, or I'll let aylight through you. +"
The deacon halted and shook his fist
at the man. What he said is not mate
rial to this recital. Then he turned and
ran down the grade.
The highwayman fired twice, and the
deacon afterward stated that the balls
whistled by in close proximity to his
head The shots fustered him He
stumbled, tripped and fell. He bruised
his shins and tore the skin from his
wrists The wallet flew from his hand,
and he lay in the road, bowling with
rage and pain.
The marauder advanced leisurely and
picked up the wallet just then the
stage, which was trifle late, as usual,
rolled slowly around the turn in the
road.
The deacons assailant leaped down
the steep bank of the canyon and rolled
headlong among the chaparral.
The remarks of the passengers on the
stage, which picked him up and brought
him to the hotel. did not tend to make
him better natured.
"Guess it was all fake. " Il didn't
hear any shots - More scared than
hurt" These were some Of the whis-
pered comments that came to the dea-
conf ears.
"If 1 had only had gun" he said
to me, "that fellow would never have
got out of there alive. It's the disgrace
that hurts | don't see how | was care
less enough to leave my gun at home
these times he said, with tears in his
eyes.
DO you think you would know the
fellow should you see him AGAIN." 1
asked.
II should know him anywhere He
is short and why, dark hair, mustache,
no beard, black eyes. And there is
great, red, flaming scar across his cheek
knife wound, l reckon
"I'll tell you what we'll do" l said.
"Let us go to Boonopolis and find him.
He will soon see that there is no pur-
suit, and will certainly go there. Per
haps we can arrest him yet.
Boomopolis at that time was only an
infant among the cities Of southern Cal
ifornia. There were huge gaps among
its business houses, now filed with
stately edifices. There were no pave
ments, and where 100 globes of electric
fire now glare al night upon the passer-
by there was then only the dim and fit