Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1899-01-07

yearning to clutch my throat were
stamped on the faces, some of which
were bearded, some clean shaven, while
among the savage group were several
who were not yet out of their teens.
Their attire was coarse and slovenly.
Most of then; were i'll slouch hats, with
out coat or vest, with trousers tucked
i'll their boots. Two had rifles in their
hands, three carried revolvers, while as
many more grasped short, thick clubs,
and fourth gripped a fence paling.
If hand to hand contest opened,
might shoot down a number, but |
could not hold ont against determined
attack.
Three persons in the group attracted
my attention. Aunt Meg had fled before
the mob, but her husband and Squire
eager remained. They were powerfully
excited, like the others, but less demon
strative. The landlord was struggling
to keep back the rush and begging his
friends not to be too hasty. He only par
| TALLY succeeded in restraining them.
The third man had come through the
| door and moved couple of PAGES aside,
NubIt Dt StOOu "lbl DhCh aSulhSt
the wall, silent but intently scrutiniz-
ing me. His face was smooth shaven,
| and he had dark hair and eyes. The pc
culiarity of the situation was the feel
ing that had seen him before, but l
| CO ID not recall the time or place, and
the terrifying circumstances prevented
my giving the matter further thought.
[ fixed my eyes on the foremost man
as the leader, and when something like
hush had been restored, so that moth
ing but the hurried breathing and an
occasional muttered imprecation were
heard, 1 said, addressing him:
From your looks and actions you
mean me harm. L demand to know the
cause for such treatment
The savage faces broke into sneering
grins, and one or two guffawed. The
man to whom l spoke and who held a
Winchester in his grasp replied:
"Hank Boyer, you've got cheek,
We've all knowed you for a rogue ever
since you was boy, but we never got
it dead to rights on to you till today. -
"Got what dead to rights on me?' l
asked, glimmering of light beginning
to break through my muddled brain.
"The horse you stole from Colonel
Mansley is in Tom Bulfinch's barn.
You've kept clear of the law so long
that you thought you was i'll no danger.
You rid the animal here and had Tom
put him in his stable. He was stole
from Colonel Mansley last night. 1
don't suppose you've ever heerd of this
before; of course not. "
The truth flashed upon me. The ami
NAL which had bought that afternoon
from the stranger at the crossroads had
been stolen by him. l had ridden the
horse to Aldine without a suspicion of
the truth and i'll my stupidity had
helped ON the fearful blunder by allow
ing myself to be addressed by his name
without protest. As if that inane busi-
ness was not enough, l had virtually
admitted that my name was Hank
Boyer in my conversation with Land
lord Bulfnch and Squire eager. Boyer
was my double, and the resemblance be-
tween us was so perfect that our own
mothers might have been puzzled.
1t would be idle for me to attempt to
bluff it through. l was i'll the gravest
peril. Many an innocent man has been
hanged by mob, and unless these head
long yeomen could be convinced of
their blunder my life was likely to pay
the forfeit.
With this conviction upon me another
startling truth became manifest. The
real thief was in the room. He was the
young man standing near the door, with
his back against the wall, silently and
intently watching me. He had shaved
off his mustache since our meeting and
his dress had been changed. He had
still respectable appearance, but un
questionably he was the criminal. Nc
wonder he was interested in me.
my friends" 1 said, speaking ear
nestly, and instantly the hush became
profound, "you have made a great mis-
take You take me for a man whom yor
call Hank Boyer, but l assure you
am not he''-
At that moment it seemed as if bed
lam had broken loose. The whole
crowd numbering fully 10, broke into
uproarious laughter. Some slapped 9th
ers Oh their shoulders, one man bent
nearly double, and, fiinging his hat OIL
the floor stamped ON it, while al
thought it the best joke of the season.
Landlord Bulfinch may have had sym
pathy for me, as he had proved at first,
but he made matters still worse by call
ing out:
Don't show the white feather
Hank! Try some other tack''
"This strikes you as very funny,
added, when partial quiet had been re
stored, "but if you will give me time
I'll prove it, and"-
"rhat won't do, Hank" interrupted
the man whom 1 had fixed upon as the
leader and whose name l afterward
found to be Jim DUNCAN. 'If you AIM
Hank Boyer, who are you?'
81 am Edward Kenmore, and my
home is in New York city. I reached
Southfeld yesterday on the steame
New Orleans and started to walk to Al
dine
"What bus ness brought you to Al
dine?" again interrupted DUNCAN.
81 am bookkeeper in bank. Gu
cashier ran away some weeks ago will
a large amount of the bank S funds, ant
we heard he was hiding at Aldine.
was sent to arrest him, but it seems h
has never been here. "
1t was evident that not man i'll tn
room believed word l had said unles
it was my double standing near tn
Ioo- o,,6 ~ him, I xyaS NOT oartain