The watchman and southron. [volume] (Sumter, S.C.) 1881-1930, 1898-07-20

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His face was so boyish, his hair so
curly and such an air Of sincerity and
truth seemed to surround him that the
miners, although deeply disappointed,
felt their hearts go out to him.
One sultry afternoon the parson Of
South City was sitting in his room, a
prey to the deepest depression. With all
the eagerness that youth and zeal could
supply he had done his best to raise his
people, and he had failed and he knew
it. He saw his miners, at first shame
lessly and then openly, stay away from
mis- little church. and his heart was sick
within him. He was wondering If it
were worth while staying on when his
door was suddenly opened and awoman,
disheveled and wild eyed, rushed in.
Oh, parson, save my boy!' she
gasped, and sank on to chair, breath
less with her haste.
"Why, Mrs. Mace, what on earth is
the matter? Is your son ill?'' he asked
eagerly.
No, sir, he amt i'll. but he's worse
nor that-the men are going to hang
him. y
What for? Surely he hasn't been
tried. What has he done?''
aWell, sir,'' walled the woman,
..he's got into bad company lately and
man accused him Of horse stealing,
and-and - looking fearfully around,
9sit's true, sir. y
Young and inexperienced as he was
in the ways Of frontier camp the par
son knew that horse stealing was one CT
the deadly sins, and his face grew pale
as death.
stI'm afraid, Mrs. Mace, that if tho
men have decided to hang your son no
word of m;ne would stay them."
1.And you, minister, to say that to
me, mother! Why, it's none The less
murder. and you know it! Oh, Sir, ..
she pleaded, there's yet time SO catch
them up! For Gods sake, whose word
you preach, try and save my boy! Will
no one help poor mother?" She wept
bitterly, while the parson in imagina-
tion felt himself defying the mob, and
also in imagination saw the ghastly
tragedy that would ensue On his inter
ference.
sCome, Mrs. Mace, let Us go and
hurry, and perhaps we may do some
good. Selling his hat, he ran from
the room and followed the crowd Of
miners whom he saw were making for
some trees about half mile out Of
town. When he finally caught up to
them, all the grim preparations were
made for the execution. The rope was
around the shiyering youths neck. Six
stalwart men held the loose end, ready
at signal to launch the criminal into
eternity. With his boyish face flushed
with excitement, the parson pressed to
the front and stood side by side with
the man about to die. A silence fell on
the throng, broken by Texas Joe. who
said: 's Now, parson, this amt no place
for ,ycu.. Judge Lynch has had his say,
and. Jim Mace is gong TO pc hanged,
and that's so. -
And who are you to take upon your
self to judge and to executes Don't
scowI at me and finger your gun, for
I'm an rnarmed man, and you know it.
Have not you enough blood on your
hands already without killing this boy
who has broken your laws? Give him
one more chance, and you may be glad
yourself of it one day. %
Tae fury that occasionally comes over
men Of quite meek dispositions was On
the little man who stood defying the
whole mob. His look seemed to daunt
even the men who held the rope, and it
hung loose about Mace's neck.
Joe saw his authority trembling in
the balance, and with pistol raised said,
"Clear him out of the way, boys, or I'll
shoot him where he stands. Z"
"No, you won't, Joe" said the par
sen undauntedly. "You know that
would be murder, and they don't love
you too much, even here, to stand that. y
No one spoke for moment; then the
Cornishman, Treleavan, shouted out:
GA life for life! II the parson wants
Mace to live, let him be hanged in
stead -
the mob ehrank from this cold blood
ed proposal, and, seizing the psycholog-
ical moment, the parson slipped the hal
ter from Mace's neck, placed it round
his own and said: $50, my lad, turn
over new leaf and leave this town.
Go, and God bless youp'
The crowd opened and Mace stumbled
away, looking neither to the right nor
left, leaving his rescuer standing with
poving lips in his place.
Then Texas Joe said, with an odd
break in his voice for which he could
not account: "Say, boys-there amt
going to be no funeral today, you bet!
Take off that necktie, parson, and l cal
culate South City will have to do with
out you in the future. We wrote to
Frisco for strong parson, and may the
Almighty strike me dead if you ain t
bit too strong for us. Give US yer fist,