The Wilmington daily Republican. (Wilmington, Del.) 1890-1902, 1898-11-09

o more hideous front, while his strength
is prodigious. A dusky Hercules corner.
ed by one Of those black demons has
Drained him with club when he made
his leap or he has slitted his throat with
knife at close quarters, but the chances
are always the other way. None knew
better than that in hand to hand
struggle. I would be as helpless az
against the assault Of panther. But
my revolver contained three charges.
| In the clear starlight the dog caught
| sight of me at the same instant that I
saw him. He emitted peculiar cry and
rushed across the open space as If shot
from catapult.
I stood asrigid as iron. My panic had
vanished, and never was cooler in my
life. Before the hound was half way to
me I leveled my weapon and held my
finger on the trigger until he was hardly
five yards distant. Then I let fly.
made the statement at the opening
Of this story that l was an expert with
the revolver. as my numerous friends
Of the Seventh regiment will testify,
but never made prettier bullseye
than on that October night in a Missis-
sippi swamp, when sent a bullet into
the brain Of the bloodhound that was
charging for my throat. 1t entered his
skull between the eyes, and. ranging
downward, must have plosved through
bis heart, my theory being based upon
the coDsennancea of tha shot
The dog uttered rasping howl, and
leaping straight up in the air for six or
eight feet dropped on his side, rolled
over, furiously clawing the ground and
air, and then lay motionless, as dead as
Julius Caesar.
My fear was that he had companions
Of his own species. If so, there could be
no better place than the present to have
it out with them. If l could maintain
my Workmanship I was good for two
more.
But intense listening for two or
three minutes failed to bring another
sound Of the nature dreaded. 1t was evil
dent that only a single hound had been
used at this stage of the business. A
few hours would doubtless bring a
change.
But heard something else that was
to be dreaded with an equal dread. It
was the sound made by at least two
men as they hurried through the swamp
toward the spot whence sounded the
shot Of the revolver and the death cry
Of the dog. One at least had a Winches.
ter, against which my smaller weapon
was useless. had no wish to meet Cy
Walters, and, leaping down from the
log on which had been standing, I
darted for the opposite side of the clear.
ing, with the knowledge that not mo.
nent was to be lost.
Great % was my haste it was within
a second Of being too late, for the men
who were pursuing me hot footed were
closer than I suspected. Being from un-
der the protecting shadow of the trees,
was in plain sight as I reached the
other side Of the clearing at the moment
the leading pursuer emerged from the
wood. An unexpected complication
saved me from being winged before l
could plunge into shelter.
There were three men after me, Cy
Walters, Archie Hunter and the owner
Of the bloodhound that had just finished
his last hunt for flying fugitive. 1t so
happened that the bereaved dog owner
was in the lead, he probably being bet
ter acquainted with the peculiarities of
his animal, but tho others were only q
short distance behind.
The sight of the motionless form on
the ground filled the man with ire
strainable rage. With an imprecation,
he bounded forward and paused over
the carcass, as If to make sure Of the
truth. A glance was sufficient Then,
Winchester in hand, he glared around
for sight Of the one who had done the
deed.
He was in time to catch sight of my
vanishing form, as he brought his gun
to his shoulder, while Walters and
Hunter had just dashed into the clear
ing. Casting one glance over my shoul-
der, J. leaped among the trees and lodged
to one side with my head bent low, as
the bullet whistled over me.
But I had not yet shaken off my pur.
suers, and the chase was on once more
with redoubled vigor