The daily morning journal and courier., 1899-01-16

1 they would follow their trail if darkness
 overlook them. Some idea of Arkan- { sas Bills capacity may be had when you know that Jesse Bell was a man
 SIX feet four inches in his stocking feet
 and made in proportion, The camp
 was eight miles away, and the way was
 extremely rough. Bill reached camp
 with his burden a short time after dark, | ana was not any too soon, for behind | them, and not far away, they heard the
 hoWling of pursuing wolves.
 They found the cabin occupied by a
 stranger, a prospector who had stum- 1 bled upon the shelter and entered. He
 was providential visitor. Together
 Arkansas Bill and the stranger fitted a
 bed of buckskin and furs on tepee poles,
 Which they fastened to Jesse's pony, h.
 dian fashion, and placing Jesse on the i drag started at once for the nearest point where medical and surgical aid could be had, which was Fort Bridges,
 one hundred and twenty miles away, through rough and unbroken wilder
 ness. They traveled day and night stopping only to bathe Jesse's wounds at
 the streams they had to cross. They
 ate as they travelled, and on the after noon of the third day they reached Fort Bridges with their wounded
 charge. On all that remarkable journey Jesse never once complained ether of his
 sufferngs or the hardships. I was at the fort when the three men arrived.
 No explanations were asked or given
 until Jesse hadbe en placed safely in
 the hospital. Then the commandant
 said to Arkansas Bill:
 " Indians?'
 "Naw! replied Bill, contemptuously, 'Bears!'
 "The surgeon told Bill that Jesse
 could not possibly survive his Injuries.
 But he did, and was out within a
 month, permanently disfgured, but the
 same tough and intrepid mountaineer
 that he was before his experience with
 the bear. That was the sort of nerve Jesse Bell had.
 The Widow McCoos exhibition of
 nerve began at Dry Cheyenne, and al-
 though she was widow she wasn't 16
 years old yet. She hadn't wanted to
 take the name of McCool a little bit,
 but Sam McCool had plenty of money and her folks didn't have any and
 wanted some. Sam wanted her, and so her folks insisted that she should mar ry him, and she had the nerve to do it, for it required nerve for any girl to marry Sam McCool. But she was the Widow McCool in less than six months
 Sam got into a muss down at Douglas and the other fellow was the quicker with his gun. Not long after she became the Widow McCool the stage route com- pany made her its agent at Dry Chey- enne. The widow was trim and snappy, dark as a Mexican almost, and pretty as a picture. A dozen of the boys fell in love with her on the go in, but sine kept 'em at distance. By and by Mart Huntoon, the rich ranchman, saw the widow one day, and he wasn't in the habit of letting anything get away that he wanted, and the upshot of the mat ter was that the Widow McCool at last consented to marry him and help him get rid of some of his dollars. Mart was tough one and about the handiest man with gun there was in that re- zion, and he had a bad gang of rust lers at his back. Mart and the widow were to be married early in May, and about the first of the month who should into Dry Cheyenne but Jim Kidd.
 Jim was quiet sort of chap, but he was game. He sold goods out through the country for house in the east. The minute he got his eyes on the Widow McCool he was gone, and the fun of it was that the widow fell in love with him on sight too. There was to be a dance at Sheffield couple of nights after Jim struck Dry Cheyenne i he asked the Widow McCool if she would go with him and take it in. She said she would, but at the same time told Jim that if Mart Huntoon got wind of it the chances were first rate for their both coming back to Dry Cheyen- ne feet first. But she and Jim sneaked away, and went to the dance. Sheffield was twenty miles from Dry Cheyenne. It wasn't long before some of the boys i missed Jim and the widow They sus- i pected that they had gone to the dance, | and word was sent to Mart. He same 1 down from his ranch, crazy mad, and [ got together half a dozen or so of his gang, and away they went for Shef- field and the dance. When they got there they found Jim and the Widow . McCool in the midst of the festive throng. The widow discovered the new arrivals at once, and quietly asked Jim if he had pistol. Jim said he had two. f
 "'All right, said the widow Keep . 'em handy. You'll need 'em before long .
 Then she and Jim took their places for the next dance. Before this was over Mart's gang started row, and be- gan to close in on Jim Kidd. He backed up against a door at one side of the . ballroom and whipped out his two six shooters. The gang pressed on and Jim shot Ed Cooke, Marts foreman, and an- other of Mart's men, dead in their track. In the excitement that followed the light were put out. A second later Jim felt the door open behind him, and he was yanked through it so quick he didn't know where he was until he heard the door bolted and heard the voice of the Widow McCool. The merry widow knew the house, and she had seen that the door Jim backed up against led to a bedroom that had window on the other side. She had slipped out of doors, got into the bed door, yanked Jim into the room, and oolted the door again before any one in the darkness and excitement of the ballroom knew what had become of Jim. But for that, Jim would have been l dead man in less than ten seconds
 Just as quick as she had yanked Tim into the bedroom by the door she hustled him out Of it by the window. They mounted the first two horses they