The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1898-12-18

In front and one sleeve torn. His eve.
never for second quivered though and
with measured step he walked up to Jake
Hildebrant. The dice thrower gave a lit
tie laugh and tried to say something, but
grew confused.
With movement so easy as to be hard
ly perceptible, the transport rider pressed
a 45-caliber colt revolver against the
others forehead. IL was held steady as a
cannon
Jake Hildebrant," said he, In a low,
hoarse drawl, little more than a whisper
this afternoon you took f737 from me in
your place" A slight pressure Of the
forehnger on the trigger followed the dice
thrower's involuntary twiteh Hildebrant
saw IT, and stood like a statue. Il guess
you'd better give me that money / was
drunk then. I'm sober now" 1t was still
the same quiet voice. II don't want a bit
Of foolin', Jake; no foolin' / just want
my money That's all. But quick Jake
dye heart Drop your gun and give me
that money quekw
That Is a pretty dangerous way for a
man 10 talk, as any one will tell you
who has roughed 1t, and though Jake
Hlldebrant was no coward, his fingers
relaxed, the revolver clattered on the floor
and without opening his lips, he counted
out the 1881 on the table
The transport rider put 1t in his pocket.
started to go and then hesitated. Sudden
" his hand went 20 the open shirt and
taking out a much crumpled envelope he
tossed II on the table. Turning his back
them without another glance, he replaced
his revolver and walked quietly out the
way he came In. No one attempted 10
stop him, and no one moved spoke or
touched the envelope for some minutes.
Bob Gosh, the gambler, finally picked
1t up gingerly and turned It over. The
postmark was from little town in North
ern Missouri, and the writing was In q
childish scrawl, plentifully interspersed
with blots. 1t was with some labor for
the spelling was peculiar, that the gambler
read aloud the following: Dear Joe,
guess I'm dying. Leastwise the doctor
reckons I'll not last over Christmas But
/ want to so much that maybe God'u lee
me. I want to think about you there, ond
when you get this little piece of ivy you'n
be thinking of the old home. We're pretty
poor now and father has to give up tie
farm because Mr.. can't wait any
longer for the $780, He says he must fore
close the mortgage. We thought maybe.
you was making money but | guess you're
havin' harder times than us in that ter
rible country. o, IL you could only como
home-the letter broke off there, and the
name Fannie" was signed in some other
handwriting.
Great beads Of sweat stood on the brow
Of many a drink-clogged head when the
gambler had finished and the letter was
passed from hand 10 hand, every one but
Jake Hildebrant taking a look at It, In
q few moments the dice thrower was alone
The dining room had been deserted, and
when Mr. Harsh hurried In from the bar
he found only Jake Hildebrant standing
over the table rumDug a very dirty en-
velop. 1t was the dice thrower's finish in
the Transvaal. After that not an Ameri-
can would patronize his saloon, ana he
had to close up and leave.
Long before the doors of the bank Of
Africa opened the next morning a horse
man dashed up and hurried into the as
sistant managers Office.
How MUCH win it cost to send a cable
draft to Missouri" he asked in a voice
tremulous with excitement The banker
consulted several books, figured a long
time, and then fancied it would cost abouf
cit.
"Can see them send It," inquired the
ashy-faced man, doggedly
That is impossible 1 believe" said the
other. THE most we can do Is 60 give
you a receipt and insure the payment o.
this draft al its destination"
"Well, / guess then I'll have TO trust
you. Here's 1851. Take what you iced
and send the rest to this address. Buf
for Gods sake, mister, send It quick!"
That was Joe Henry's last appearances
In johannesburg