The National tribune. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1877-1917, 1900-11-29

the ColoneI's formality, which involved so
much delay, but quickly formed the boys
| into some sort of line, and walked DELHI
| erately back, the Colonel stalking solemnly
his proper 80 PAGES in the rear
| Dumb it, Shad, why don't you hurry ?''
ii called out impatiently. It's awful
hard to hold the boat here"
| 'Serg't Klegg," said the Colonel, Sc
verely, as he regained the deck. the man
ner in which you just addressed your SUI
perior officer is simply intolerable. | can
not deal with the Offense now as it de
serves, but | shall return to it in the fu-
| ture. See that you do not aggrayate it
| by any repetition"
Undisturbed by the occurrences below
the red-bcarded man had kept up an ex-
| change Of shots with Jim cambridge, who
excited and puzzled him by planting his
| bullets all around and very close to him
without actually hitting him. 1t was clear
to him that he had encountered some I'M
| usual antagonist who was worthy of his
best efforts. He wanted to fall back when
his comrades below were driven, but lin
| gered to dispose of this audaciOus fellow
SLOW down, Zeke," Jim called to the
| pilot, 'and run in close to the island thar
YO'll find good five foot o wafer all along
thar"
Jim left his station by the jackstaff, and
| stood up on the front of the hurricane
deck.
'HuIlo, HOss Bullock" he shouted, as
the boat came within a couple hundred
yards of the island. no 'bOminable pole
cat, did yo' know who wuz ashootin' at
"Wuz that yo', yo lazy. lousy, thievin'
runnygade-yO' piZen, wuthless po' white
trash" shouted Bullock, augrily, coming
out from behind the stunted and flood
mangled sycamore and shaking his fist at
cambridge.
Yes, hits me, Jeems cambridge, o
Bainbridge's Ferry, yer betters, and the
gent yo' hickoried down thar by Gadsden.
/ done tole yo' I'd have yer wood-pecker
sculp. fer that some day, an I've done
come fer hit, yo' fox-faced varmint."
Il didn't give yo' half what yo deserved,
yo' ill-begotten hound" yelled Bullock. Il
never orter let yo' got away alive, and 1
won't next time r
Stop your jawing, JIM" said the pilot,
and get down to business. l can't hold
the boat here all day"
Il could've shot yo' long ago." yelled
Jim, bringing his gun TO his face like a
flash. But afore | done hit / wanted yo'
ter know who hit wuz. Take that thar
through yer punkin head"
Both men fired almost at the same in
slant. Bullock sank down, apparently
with bullet through his head. The dust
flew from the side of Jims ragged butter
nut coat, and he whirled half round as he
fell.
This private dueling is strictly out of
order in war;" said the Colonel severely,
as he came upon the deck, after exchang-
ing his soaked boots and pantaloons for
dry ones. 1T is not war, but individual
murder 1t should not have been permit
ted had | been present. Let us have no
more of il"
,'Ketch you bad, Jim?" asked the pilot.
mo; | reckon not" replied cambridge,
feeling his side. Only raked little meat
often my ribs. He wuz quicker'n l reck-
oned. But it was his last shot, and he
hustled a little ter make hit"
DO you suppose, Jim, that we've got
shut of 'em all now?" inquired the pilot,
ringing the bell for more steam.
Il misdoubt if yo' have. 'Paruntly thar's
other men among 'em that know the
Shoals, from the way they 'uns is workin'
round. See them bushes shakin' on that
island at the head O. the bend? Thar's
passed. o they 'uns got in thar"
Even Sis and Shortys keen eyes had
not seen what Jim had detected.
THAT means trouble" said the pilot.
''rhey can get rake right ON u.s."
Dodge 'em by goin' sharp to larboard,
and cuttin in behind that island thar.
You find plenty o water thar. Hits mar
rer, but deep and swift"
boat turn away they rushed out and ex-
pressed their chagrin in spiteful volley,
no shot from which came within half
mile of the Lorena.
You want to give your guns little
bunch when you shoot" Shorty yelled de-
risiyely. Your bullets don't get over the |
taw-line."
The chute of the river into which they |
had turned was as narrow us q canal, and |
ran like a mill-race. The Lorena strug- |
gled slowly up it, and her wood-pile d. |
unfinished at rate that made Shad, 81 and |
Shorty scan 1t nervously.
Jim Bainbridges wound had not affect