The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1896-07-11

be able to finish Tippy all the same"
Then, seeing the impression he made,
he reared, "Drop that muzzle, or I'll
kill him right now!"
At the word he pressed on the
knife, and l shrieked with the pain.
"Drop that muzzlel" he shouted
again.
Jack dropped it. He wanted time
to think. 1t was, however, only
dropped to his side. The gun still
pointed at Powell. 1t was full cooked,
and Jacks fingers were on the trig-
gers. He was an extraordinarily
good snap shot. I had often seen
him bring down cartridges without
raising the gun to his shoulder; but
Powell seemed unaware that aim
could be taken from the hip.
"Now," he sneered, "you drop that
gun! Put it on the ground, quick
and get out of here!"
Jack said nothing, nor made any mo-
ton to obey; but he looked dismayed.
1t was clear that Powell designed to
get us both at his mercy. If Jack
should lay down his gun and retire,
Powell might stab me, seize the gun,
and shoot my brother.
well, l have got you completed"
cried the ruffian, laughing ferocious-
ly. "You put down that gun before
l count three, or Tippy gets this
knife in his ribs! One"
At the word he threw out his right
arm with the knife in it, and I
screamed at the expectation of in
slant death. But the chance for
which Jack waited had come. He
had been afraid that scattering shot
might hit me if he fred at any vital
part of Powell; and moreover, he was
reluctant to kill the man.
Bang! The roar of the charge
confused my brain. had seen the
flash of the powder. AS l fell, flung
violently by Powell, l imagined had
been hit. But the man yelled with
pain, and staggered over me. Jacks
charge of small shot, aimed from the
hip at the villains extended knife
hand, had shattered his knuckles
and carried the weapon out of his
grasp.
Before he could recover at all from
the surprise, Jack sprang at him,
knocked him over with thrust of
the guns muzzle in his middle, and
stood over him with one foot on his
breast.
"Now, you numbering bully" said
Jack, "Tve got you! It'll be some
time before you offer to stab that
boy again, guess! Stop! don't so
much as squirm! And shut your
swearing, too, you brute" Here
Jack punched him none too lightly
in the middle again.
"Tippy, fetch me his knife" said
Jack.
When he had it safe in his pocket,
he told Powell to hold up his woun-
ded hand, which was bleeding a good
deal. Jack tied his red handker-
chief firmly round the wrist, saying,
"That'll stop the blood. Pm sorry l
had to shoot, for don't like to hurt
even brute like you. Now you'll
know how that steer felt when you
smashed his horn. Get up," he went
on. do you hear? Face round.
Now take the path to the village.
March, march, say! No tricks!
Mind! I've got another charge in
the gun, and you may be sure I'll
use it"
In ten minutes we were out of the
woods, and before us, across half
mile stretch of smooth prairie was the
town of Sheldon.
keep right on" said Jack. Powell
glanced over his shoulder; the gun
lock clicked again, and Powell, seeing
Jacks set, determined face, knew he
would shoot if he attempted to run.
So, gritting his teeth and shaking
his head, he moved on.
The strange spectacle Of the burly
fellow marching before gun in the
hands of slightly built boy like
brother Jack drew great crowd as
we entered the town. We had gone
but few blocks when we met the
town marshal, who at once took
charge of Powell, and locked him up
in cell of the new town Jail.
He went from it to cell in the
State prison, for when the Sheldon
Gazette published an account of his
capture and my narrow escape,
copy of the paper fell into the hands
of an officer in distant county, who
felt sure from the description that
Powell was man named Lansing,
wanted in that county for a shocking