Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1897-12-25

been boys together in Iowa When the
nine marshals finally located Clifton and
surrounded Williams cabin. the bandit
probably knew that his kite was punctured
for he said to Williams:
SD. you re not in on this deal: keep out
of it. and stop fumblng them guns This
Is layout of solitaire, and I'm going to
play with my boots on and without any
coaching
Then. instead of making his fight from
the cagin window holes and from cracks
between the logs. like good many less
nerVy bad men have done when similarly
rounded up, he pushed Williams and his
wife and children into Il corner of the
snack. gave each of the two Kids a hug
ne mad couple of his own. you see-and
then he grabbed the two guns out of his
belt lying on his bunk sprang to the cabin
door and threw ii wide open, and gave the
yelp:
Now come at me-
He opened fire on the group of marshals
all of them mounted, with the words, and
got four of them pretty badly before they
let him have the volley that sent him over
the big divide.
''Wakeman didn't make such a bad finish
either, although he did it from the brush
and not exactly in the open. He was on
the Checotah trail, most likely bound for
Wichita, Kan. where he had friends, when
the two marshals who had been beating
the two territories for him came I'D behind
him on foot. He did not hear their APP
proach, but plodded on in an apparent sense
of security.
Hey. there. Red one of the marshals
called after him when only thirty feet sep
arated them, are you ready to be tahen in
now, or Is it a case of shoot?
Began to Fire.
The marshals told us afterward in Guth-
rie that Wakeman didn't even turn around
to see if he was covered-as he was, by the
four guns of the two marshals-but simply
made a sidewise leap from the trail into
the brush. so quickly that the four palls
they sent after him as he made the move
came nowhere near hitting him. With only
his head and shoulders sticking above the
brush. Nakeman turned upon his hunters
who We're still shooting at him, and began
his fire.
Shoot he yelled. You bet your
DID,
He died. riddIed with bullets. and went
into eternity with that word on his lips,
which seems characteristic enough as the
parting wori Of bad man, if rather hor-
rifying. Neither of the marshals was
graZed.
But TO get back to Charlie Clifton or
Dynamite Dick. L knew him when he was
a chubby-faced boy in Davenport, Iowa
nearly twenty-five years ago. He belonged
TO first-rate middle-class family, had a
lot of brothers and sisters. who are now
scattered throughout the northwest, and
was about as nice, clean. intelligent, up
right a little chap as you'd want to meet He
in Davenport where l then worked as =
clerk, plant himself a bag of bran AMI
poster Inc to spin yarns for him. / took
quite fancy to the boy, and lied myself
black in the face telling him of the hand
to-hand encounters had had with Indians,
and all that sort of thing. The Clifton
family moved away from Davenport before
Charlie was eleven years old, and the next
time L saw the boy was in Kansas City,
about seven years later. He was then
working in hardware store, and he was
still all right and honest, with nothing OF
the bad man about him. 1 happened into
the store accidentally, and recognized the
young fellow right off, as he did me.
You're all right, old man. said he to
me, If you are the worst fakir that ever
tried to stuff n kid. Dye remember them
Iijun yarns?
An Unexpected Meeting.
We'll. the next time 1 saw Charlie Cliff
ton he was Dynamite Dick and bad 1t
was soon after the opening of the last
Oklahoma strip. and my partner and my
self were our way down in a prairie
schooner to locate a business plant We