The Mena weekly star., 1897-11-24
SHOT FOR A ooMpANlon.s LIFE.
Cut the Rope by Which He Hung with s
 Rife Bullet


 who were captured by q notorious guerrilla while fighting in the Chiiian service, and condemned to death on the following conditions: That one should be hung by the neck from tree, and the other given q rife to cut the rops by shooting at it.
 s'They handed me the rife loaded and cooked. 1t was a single-shot Winches- ter, and I found afterward, though I did not know 1t then, that either through fendish wish to further hamper my aim or through pure forget fulness, they had left the sights cooked up at 300 yards. But that did not mat ter. The elevation was detail of minor import, besides I was handling the weapon as q game shot fires, with head and eyes glued on the mark, and rife barrel following the eyes by instinct alone. You must remember that had no stationary mark to aim at. My poor comrade was writhing and sway ing at the end of his tether, and the we'll rope swung hither and thither like some contorted pendulum. Once fired, twice fired, six times, ten times, and still the rope remained uncut, and the bullets rattled harnlessly against the white walls of the chapel beyond With the 1lth shot came the jingle of broken glass, and the bell, after couple of hurried, nervous clangs, ceased toll ing altogether With the 18th shot shout went up from the watching crowd l had stranded the rope, and the body which dangled below the mag nolia tree began slowly to gyrate.
 ssThen came halt in the firing. handed the Winchester back to the fellow who was reloading. But some how or other the exploded cartridge had jammed in the breech. I danced and ragged before him in my passion of hur- ", and the cruel brutes round yelled in eostasies of merriment. Only Garcia did not laugh. He rerolled a fresh cigarette with his thin, yellow fingers, and leisurely rocked himself in the split-cane chair. The man could not have been more unmoved had he been overlooking performance of Shake speare. At last I tore the Winchester from the hands of the fellow who was fumbling with it and clawed at the jammed cartridge myself, breaking my nails and smearing the breechIock with blood. If it had been welded into one solid piece it could hardly have been frmer. But the thrill of the moment gave my hands the strength of pincers. The brass case moved from side to side: it began to crumble, and drew it forth and hurled it away from me, mere ball of shapeless, twisted metal. Then one of the laughing brutes gave me another cartridge, and once more 1 shouldered the loaded weapon. The mark was easier now. The struggles of my poor friend had almost ceased. and, though the well rope still swayed, it's move ments were comparatively rhythmical and could be counted upon. I snapped down the sights. put the butt plate to my shoulder and cuddled the stocl; with my cheek. Here, for the first time was a chance for something steadier than snap shot. I pressed home the trigger as the well rope reached one extremity of its swing. Again a few loose ends sprang from the rope, and again the body began slowly to gyrate. But was it Methuen I was firing to save or was I merely wasting shot to cut down mass of cold, dead clay?
 "I think that more agony was com pressed for me in few minutes than most men meet in lifetime. Even the oulooking guerrillas were so stirred that for the first time their gibing cemsed, and two of them, of their own accord, handed me cartridges. I slipped one home and closed the breech- lock. The precipitation was running in stream from my chin. Again l fired. Again the we1lrope was shipped, and coud see the leosened strands ripple out as a snake unwraps itself from a branch. One more shot. God in Heav- en. l missedl Why was made to be a murderer like this? Garcias voice caIne to me coldly. Your last chance senor. can be kept waiting here no longer. And I think you are wasting time. Your friend seems to have quit ted us already Another cartridge. I sank to one knee and rested my left elbow on the other. The plaza was hung in breathless silence. Every eye was strained to see the outcome of the shot The men might be inhnman in their cruelty, but they were human enough in their curiosity The body swung to one end of it's swing; 1 held my fire. It swung back, and the rifle muzzle followed. Like some mourn ful pendulum, it passed through the air, and then glow of certainty filled nie n