St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1901-12-28
it's a bit shaky for . cove o my time

he laugned as ne spoke and helped
himself to huge slice of ounce tart.
Lucky we're not in the old days,
gentlemen" he continued. II
shouldn't have fancied going over the
mountain with a coach load o. dust,
and only two armed men-and one ct
'em civilian-to guard it."
"Who said there were only two
armed men," interrupted gruff
voice, and the sergeant stood in the
doorway. For a moment, Mr.. Landon
that was his name-looked startled,
but the next instant turned laughing
~ to the sergeant.
''Why, you said SO yourself, ser
geant. Didn't you say that you and
the accountant (Mr. Jones) would be-
ready in half an hours time. You
didn't say nothing about no others. -
Sergeant Fulton growled something
under his breath as he dropped his
huge frame into a chair and called
for drink.
"What's happened to that fellow
Moonbeam, sergeant?" asked Charlie
Wilson, after a pause. "He seems to
have left his district
"Can't say, SIR" replied Fulton.
"He's tough nut to crack, and devil
knows what he's up to now. I'd give
ten years Of my life to get that scoun-
drel."
eyes," laughed Charlie, "he's given
you chaps a rough time for the last
year or two. I can't help admiring
the pluck of the fellow though he
is such bad lott
"A bad lot" growled the sergeant.
"He's a murderin' william, that's what
he is. He shot my mate, Dick Quin-
ton, without giving the poor chap a
dogs chance of a run for his money"
II don't know anything about it,
and I'm talking a lot of rot, sup
pose," said Landon, joining in, "but it
seems to mean outsider-to have
been his life or your friends. Troop
er Quinton wouldn't have given him
much law, expect, if he could have
drawn bead on him.
s'You think not" said the sergeant,
sharply. "Well, / think, as I've said,
that Moonbeam, as he is called. is a
murderin' BLACKBOARD, and if I could
get chance at him I'd plug him as
would bandicoot."
"Well, well, sergeant" laughed the
other, mo offense, and, as l say, 1
haven't heard much about the chap.
What's he like? Have you ever seen
him."
"Only once" said the sergeant,
slowly, 'but think I'd know him
again"
"Well,' laughed the other, II can
only hope for Moonbeam's sake, that
you won't happen to meet him."
At that moment tall young man,
clad in heavy ulster, entered the
room. He carried black bag in his
hand. 'Good evening, gentlemen.
Mr.. Fane-Mr. Landon-may intro
duce myself? I'm the bank account
ant. We're to be fellow-travelers,
and I'm much obliged to you for your
courtesy in coming on tonight. The
coach is ready. Shall we start?''
Five minutes later had wrung
dear old Charles hand for the last
time for many day and taken my
seat in the coach. 1t was a light
spring coach, with a covering over it
and two parallel seats. In the front
one sat the driver, and by his side
Sergt. Fulton, with loaded rifle be-
tween his knees. In the back seat sat
Landon, Jones, and myself; Jones,
with his bag of gold on his knees, be-
ing in the center.
It was a beautiful star-lit night,
and the air was deliciously cool after
the broiling heat OF the day. We were
all in the best of spirits, despite our
continuous journey, Landon especial
ly being in particularly facetious
frame of mind. AS a fellow-traveler,
it would have been difficult to sur
pass him, so well stocked was he with
lively Renaissance and amusing anec-
dote. What he was by trade or pro-
fession he did not say, though I fancy
that we all tacitly took him to be a
commercial traveller. Certainly he
knew the road well, and even at that
hour of the night pointed out the va
rious landmarks of interest as we
passed-landmarksr rendered historical
by association with bushranging and
gold mining incident.
'That's the rock behind which the
Clarks hid to bail up the COACH he
exclaimed suddenly, as a great bould-
er doomed out, white and ghostlike in
the flash of the coach lamps on our
right.
I peered with interest at the spot
pointed out by Landon. The story OF
that particular Clarke exploit of some
years before was known to everyone.
Ignorant of the man they had to deal
with in the person Of the driver, the
gang had made a sad bungle of what
they had supposed to be certain sue
cess. The rock was situated just at
the crest of an incline, and as the
coach toiled slowly up the hill, one of
the bushrangers stepped out sooner
than was actually necessary and
called on the driver to bail up. But
Bob Miller-the best whip in the Nom
arc district-saw his chance, and like
lightning whipped his horses around.
The bushranger fired, but missed the
plucky driver, and in an instant the
coach was dashing back toward Moru-
va at a pace that baffled pursuit.
"They were darned well sold that
time," growled Sergt. Fulton as he
glanced over his shoulder at the his
torical rock.
Eyes, by gum" said Landon, "and
serve 'em right, too-it was the worst
managed bit of business I've heard
of for many q day-leastways," he
added hurriedly, "that's what pal of