Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1900-02-02

real truth is'-but hold on, I'm likely
going too fast for you, I've had it in my
head that long How much have you
got down, eh?'
Fabrication on my part " repeat
ed old Fitch in a trembling voice as he
waited for more.
Good Now pull yourself together, 4"
said Cattermole, suddenly cooking his
revolver. The real truth is that |,
Samuel Fitch, SHOT James Savage with
my own hand.
Fitch threw down his pen.
"That's lie," he gasped 81 never
did. | won't write it, "
The cooked revolver covered him.
prefer to die in your chair, eh;"
eyes. "
"I'll give you one minute by your
own watch.
still covering his man, the convict
held out the other hand for the watch,
and had momentary contact with
cold, damp one as it dropped into his
palm. Cattermole placed the watch on
the table where both could see the dial
Your minute begins now, " said he,
and all at once the watch was ticking.
like an eight day clock.
Fitch rolled his head from side to side
Fifteen seconds, " said Cattermole.
The old mans brow was white and
spangled like the snow outside.
Half time, " said Cattermole.
Five, 10, 10, 20 seconds passed. Then
Fitch caught up the pen eco on, " he
groaned. "Ill write any lie you like
That Il do you no good. No one will be-
lieve a word of it. " Yet the perspira-
tion was streaming down his face. 1t
splashed upon the paper as he proceeded
to write in trembling characters at
Cattermole's dictation.
The real truth is that l. Samuel
Fitch, shot James Savage with my own
hand. The circumstances that led to
my shooting him | will confess and ex-
plain hereafter When he had fallen,
heard a shout and some one running up
! got behind a tree, but | saw Harry
Cattermole, the poacher, trip clean over
the body. His gun went off in the air
and when be tried to get up again l
saw he couldn't because he'd twisted
his ankle He never saw me. | slipped
away and gave my false evidence, aud
Harry Cattermole was caught escaping
from the wood on his hands and knees,
with blood upon his hands and clothes,
and an empty gun. gave evidence
against him to stop him giving evidence
against me. But this is the whole truth
and nothing but the truth, SO help me
Godv "
Cattermole paused Fitch finished
writing. Again the eyes Of the two men
met ana those Of the elder cleaned with
a cunning curiosity.
"How-how did you know" be
asked, lowering his voice and leaning
forward a. he spoke.
1.-Two and two, was the reply. 81
put EN- together as soon as ever saw
you in the box. q"
"Thatll never be believed-got lik,
this "
Twill it not: Wait bit. You've mo-
| done yet As a proof of what say -
/ do you hear me;-'as a proof Of what
say the gun which the wad will fit, tina
saved Henry Cattermole's life. will b,
found 49,
Cattermole waited until the old mar
had caught him up.
Now, said he, you finish the sen
tence for yourself "
What: cried Fitch.
Write where that guns 10 be founC
you know, l don't-and then sigI
your name
But don't know
You do.
Il sold it,
You wouldn't dare You've got tina
somewhere. see it in your face Writ
down where, and then show me tn
place, and if you've told a lie
The revolver was within a foot of tn
old mans head, which had fallen for
ward between his hands, The pen la,
blotting the wet paper Cattermole tool
the brandy bottle, poured out a stit
dram and pushed it under the other
nose
Drink" ne cried. Then write tn
truth and sign your name. Maybe the,
won't hang an old man like you; but
by God. l shan't think twice abou
shooting you if you don't write tn
truth a"
Fitch gulped down the brandy, too
up the pen once more and was near tn
end of his own death warrant whel
the convict spraug lightly from the ia
BILE and stood listening in the center @
the room. Fitch saw him and listene
too In the church they were singin
another hymn. The old man saw b
his watch, still lying ON the table, tina
it must be the last hymn, and in fey
minutes his wife would be back. Blu
that was not all. There was anothe
sound-a nearer sound-the sound {
voices outside the door. The handle wa
turned-the door pushed-but Fitc
himself had locked and bolted it. MOI
whispers; then loud rat-tat
"Who is it?" cried Fitch, tremblin
with excitement, as he started to b
feet.
1.-THE policei Let us in, or we brea
in your door,"
There was no answer Catherine
was watching the door. Suddenly
turned, and there was Fitch in the a
; of dropping his written confession in
the fire. The convict seized it before
caught and with the other hand hurlt
the old man back into his chair
"Finish it, " he said below his breat
! "or you're a dead mani One or Il
other Of us is going to swing Nov