The Dupuyer acantha. [volume] (Dupuyer, Mont.) 1894-1904, 1896-07-09
AN ATTEMPTED SUICIDE.

Bill Burt rested his horse d moment
at the crest of u foothill overlooking
Statewide. There was yet d glow on
the top of the ragged peaks which was
more than n hundred miles from the
Sangre de Cristo range, but the twi-
light had faded in the valley and the
clustered lights of Stakeville glowed
cheerily in the distance.
Pill Burt looked long and earnestly
in the direction of Statewide. Dis
mounting, he leaned against the
gnarled stump of a pine and slowly
filled d blackened briar pipe.
There is Statewide. and it looks
good for a man who has seen nothing
but cow punchers and greasers for six
months" said Bill, as he impaticntly
kicked a loose stone and sent it rafting
down the slope. That brightest light
there is Tom Carney's joint. Bet that
Tom is back of the bar right this lin
ute. Can almost smell that hot Scotch.
Six months? That's a long lime NTH
cut a drink. Bet I'm drunk before
midnight"
For half an hour Burt pulled away
silently at the black pipe. His eyes
were fixed on Statewide. whose lights
cleaned brighter in the gathering dark
ness. but his mind was on the past. In
memory he reviewed the last ten years
of his life. T~hirty-two years old did
not res lightly on Bill Burt. True.
the well-built shoulders and powerful
limbs showed no signs of life's desper-
ate battle, but the black curly hair,
which fell in abundance from beneath
h faded Sombrero. was t1ecked with
gray and the tanned face was that of a
man well advanced in the %forties. At
twenty-five, elected by a big majority
to a responsible legal office in a popu-
louS Eastern city. at twenty-four a
member of the legislature and one of
the acknowledged leaders of the houSe;
at twenty-five a drunkard and { self
constituted outcast from The tenrs Of
his early triumphs. Agar later Burt
was on the frontier. and for six years
led a wild and desperate life as a COW
boy. prospector. ranger. guide ana for
several months as faro dealer. These
six years had been spent III a losing
struggle against whisky. Once in reach
of liquor, Burt was drunk. Sud 41ly
he would disappear, and for months
would be buried on the plains on in
the mountains. Here he was safe.
When there was no whisky to be had
Bill Burt had no desire for it: but the
return to camp or a town meant a pro-
tracted debauch.
six months is a long time reflected
Bill as he placed his foot in the stirrup
and headed his pony toward Statewide.
"Mebbe I've gotten over it. I'll take a
chance anyhow. But you can bet I'm
not going to stay away from any sa-
looms or other places of entertainment
on that account. A mar who can't
stand off liquor when he is stacked up
against it might as well quit, If | find
| want a drink I'm going to take it. If
| don't want it there is no sucker in
Stakeville can force it down me-
Bill Burt found that he wanted a
drink. and that he wanted several Of
them. Long before midnight he was
drunk, and an hour later celebrated his
return to civilization by "winging' a
man and incidentally by demolishing
part of the back bar of Tom CaTney'S
cafe. AT the end of a week the savings
of six months hard work had been
s0uandered. Bill awoke one morning
fevered, penniless and desperate.
There is nothing in this kind of n
life for me- said Burt as he surveyed
a swollen face and red eyes in the
fragment of a glass which decorated
his room in a lodging house. Il might
as well end it now as any time
He picked up his gun and examined
it carefully. Standing in front of the
glass, he placed the muzzle against his
forehead. He held it there a moment,
lost in thought, and then placed it
back in his belt.
""That's no way for a man to die
said Bill Burt. "A man is a coward
to kill himself, especially when he is a
big husky brute like me. How can ]
fix it? | have it, and Burt smiled
grimIy. Il remember last night that
some one said Big Jake was in town.
Jake is a bully good shot. Guess | can
fix it to have Jake shoot me. 1t would
be water on his wheel, and let me out
of a bad job"
Big Jake was in town, and Stakeville
was OF its good behavior, so far as he
was concerned. No one knew how
many men Big Jake had killed, but
| Statewide had contributed three to the
score. When Bill Burt arrived at Tom
CarDey's Big Jake was well along on
his drunk HIS Dlack eyes cleaned
savagely from beneath punches of
scraggy eyebrows, and his voice was
husky with the awful fluid which pass,
ed for whisky at Carney's cafe. A
group of men We're around Big Jake,
who was buying all drinks and cursing
Statewide and everything in it. Bill
Burt pushed his way through the
crowd. He had never seen Big Jake
before, but needed no Introduction.
"Throw that stuff into your carcass