The Madison daily leader. [volume] (Madison, S.D.) 1890-current, 1895-12-03

all tAptCthtIO1 Ia VVAy
little danger. But as we scanned the
faces of the company without seeing
our man the deacon's brow grew black
with disappointment.
1t was now after midnight. The cigar
store was closed, but the bar was kept
open all night. Disappointed in our
search, we became absorbed i'll watch
ing the game.
There is something of the gambler in
every man, and as / looked upon the
tense, excited faces of the players the
contagion Of their example seized me,
and l felt in my pocket for coin. Find
ing nothing but silver, which l did not
like to stake, as there was none ON the
table, / was Oh the point Of borrowing
a double eagle from the deacon when |
heard Il quiet but distinct voice at the
end of the room say:
Hands up, gentlemen, if you please!'
CHANGING around, l saw a man stand
ing at the door leading to the bar, a re-
volver in each hand pointed at us. He
was a short, slight man, with dark hair
and a flaming scare across his face.
There was no confusion. One of the
loungers quietly placed his back against
the door leading to the cigar store and
drew two revolvers, which he pointed
along the table. Two others, evidently
confederates also, stood at ease awaiting
the next order. The rest of US lifted our
hands simultaneously.
1.-THE gents that are seated will kind
~ ~rise," said the voice near the door.
The gamblers rose as one man.
Nov, then. Everybody right about
and face the wall" was the next COM
mand.
We advanced in two rows to the op-
posite sides of the room and stood, as di-
rected, ranged against the walls. Then
the two c%onfederates stepped leisurely
to the table and scooped the gold into
a couple of little sacks which they pro-
duced from their pockets.
Having secured the money on the ia
BILE, the %brigands proceeded to rob our
persons. With a great show Of politeness
they requested us to give up our watches,
money and weapons. The fellow tossed
my revolver and my few silver dollars
into his sack and grabbed at my watch.
Just then there was a crashing, ex-
plosive sound, deafening in the narrow
confines of the room-then another-an-
! other-and another. Then came dark
ness, a quick rush of feet, a tumult of
shouts and groans.
1t was the deacon, of course. l knew
it before the welcomed hurried arrival
of men from outside, with lanterns. He
had turned loose at the leader. They
had exchanged three or four shots before
the light went out, quickly and mystic
riOusly.
The men with the sacks and the mon
ey were gone, but the deacon was bend
ing over aform that was stretched upon
the floor.
The fellow tried to lift himself upon
his elbow.
"Iknow you, pard," he said. you're
the man I stood up this afternoon.
You've held over me this time. I'm
gone"
The deacon's eyes softened. He drop
ped his revolver, put his long arm un'
der the others head and tried to turn
him into a more comfortable position.
II am sorry for you," he said slowly
and simply.
"Oh-it's-all-right," gasped the
wounded man, evidently speaking with
great difficulty. II came-into-the
-game-on-a-bluff -but-you've-
called-me-sure.'
is there anything that I can do fol-
you?" asked the deacon.
bend down here" said the man.
The deacon lowered his head, and thu
other whispered something to him.
III do it., said the deacon.
The next day in the afternoon the dea
con and i sat on the veranda of the no
tel at Hot Springs enjoying a sun batl
and admiring the diversified Landscape
before US.
"Now there was that young fellow
yesterday" said he. Had he told m'
who he was l would have lent him 800
to go east, and there he might have
amounted to something. He simpl,
threw his life away
"What did that young fellow say t.
you?' I asked.
Told me his name. You would know
the family if should mention it. Want
ed me to see that he was decently buried
and to write to his father and mother.
William M. Hinsdale in San Francisco
ArgOnaut.