The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1899-01-09

Southern California. The mud baths
at these springs are Justly celebrated
for killing or curing AL the ills that
flesh inherits.
Deacon HardwiclSe would remain in
one of these baths an hour, enduring
an experience which might have Killed
a man of less phlcgmatic temperament
Then he would try to persuade others
to follow his example, greatly to the
disgust of the managers, who were
afraid that somebody would die i'll the
bath, and So ruin the reputation OF
their establishment. For similar Tea-
sons he was unpopular with the atten"
dants.
His appearance was striking. He
was tall, awkward and angular, yet
dignified. His upper lip was smooth
shaven, but on his chin was a heavy
growth of beard.
The deacon's way of speech was so
slow and solemn as to seem affected.
I was told that he was a "'49er;" that
his title of deacon was only honorary,
having originally being bestowed by
his associates in the mines and
clinging to him through many changes
of fortune, and that his business was
real estate. He wes said to be very
clever in working off acreages of cac-
tus-bed sagebrush and hillside upon
newcomers. His ungainly, honest ap-
pearance favored him, and he could
look the prospective purchaser in the
eye and weave the most remarkable ro-
mances without a culver Of his clerical
features.
We became fast friends, and l found
him an interesting study. 1t was the
deacon's custom to make frequent trips
to Boomopolis on business, returning TO
the hotel for more of his beloved
baths. To reach the Hot Springs the
traveller crosses five miles of desert
country, where the cactus flouriGhps
like the green baytree ana the coyote
trills at night mis- peculiar lay. Then
he climbs the grade" a rise of 1000
feet in two miles. This part of the
way is over mountain road, which
skirts precipices and winds in and out
among the canyons in "a way that
makes timid people dizzy.
At this time the great boom in South
ern California land --.,~. just collapsed,
and numbers of men, who had lost all
their money, found themselves in a
strange land, penniless and friendless.
berry, was rampant.
One bright, beautiful winter after
noon Deacon Hardwicke started for
the hotel That morning he had pro-
cured at BoomopOlis a livery team and
driver, and had been taken to differ
ent points about the valley. looking at
lands which were offered for sale Hav-
ing completed his inspection. he was
driven to the foot O. e grade, and
there he dismissed the team. No one
else would have done this after a
hard days ride; but the deacon thought
the horses were tired, and also that
the exercise OF climbing the grade afoot
would do him good. He had in his
hands little black leather wallet cOn-
tanning deeus, and, as he walked along
in his slow and dignined fashion, his
eyes bent on the ground, he looked
like a gentleman of leisure, perhaps a
wealthy eastern tourist out for an air
ing
AT the foot Of the grade is a little
ranch house and Just beyond the road
makes a turn almost at right angles
and skirts tho edge of a canyon, where
the traveller is hidden from view from
either direction. In this angle of the
way a man was waiting for the after
noon stage, which was about due. 1t
carries the mail for the hotel and some
times considerable express matter, to
say nothing of the passengers. But
the deacon happened to come along
first, and, as he turned the corner
plodding slowly along. he heard a
smooth, clear, firm, but net impatient
voice, say:
wait a moment sir. And kindly
hand over that gripsack and your
money"
Glancing up the deacon beheld a bis
revolver pointed at his head.
Deacon Hardwicke was surprised and
grieved, He was not a coward. lie had
come across the pains in 80. lie had
lived in many a lawless community
had seen men lynched, had himself
been u target for bullets more than
once. If he had been armed he would
have fought-as he afterwards assured
me. But the appalling fact flushed owe,
him that he had no gun, and that The
Sentlemanly stranger had the drop or
him. The politeness of the latter's ad
dress was not a balm for his wounded
feelings
Come" said the highwayman, in 6
more threatening tone, II mean bus
iness. Drop your wallet. Give me You,
money or I'll let daylight through you.
The deacon halted and shook his fis
at the man. What he said is not ma
terial to then recital. Then he turned
and ran down the grade. His ha'
bobbed off ard his long coat-tails hut,
tered out behind. 1t was an undigniGeC
and risking proceeding, but ther,
seemed TO be no hope for it-except Il
give uD his money. and this the dea
con did not consider for a moment.
The highwaymaE fired twice, am
the deacon afterwards stated that tn,
balls whistled by in close proximity I,
his head. The shots frustrated him
He stumbled, tripped and fell. III
bruised his shins, and tore the ski,
from his wrists. The wallet flow from
his hand, and he lay in the road, howl
ing with rage and pain.
The marauder advanced leisurel
and picked up the wallet. Just the
the stage, which was o trihe late, a
usual, rolled slowly around the tur
in the road. The deacon's assailar
leaped down the steep bank of tn
canyon and rolled neadlong among III
chaparrai. ne regainea his feet, cross
ed the rocky bed of the stream at tn
bottom OF the canyon, and disappeare
among the bushes on the other side.
The deacon lifted his long, bleedln
arms toward heaven as he watched hi
foe depart beyond the reach of effeC
tive pursuit, and fairly screamed wit
impotent fury. The remarks of III
passengers on the stage, which pickle
him up and brought him to the hote
did not tend to make him better ma
tured. Guess il was all a fake" 9