Orange County observer. [volume] (Hillsborough, N.C.) 1880-1918, 1902-08-21
Meanwhile the Sheriff and the Judge.

Meanwhile the Sheriff and the Judge
who had openly entered into an ALI
ance which included commercial a
well as legal supremacy, were engaged
in charging and improving a combina
ton livery stable and feed yard, il
which they were equally interested
The project under way was the sink
ing Of a well, but the deep-rootet
dislike and suspicion in which the.
We're both held by the townsfolk made
it necessary for them to do most Of TIT
work themselves. They took turns be
low digging at the clay or drilling init
the rocky strata, but were hard put tt
find a steady man who would man the
windlass which lifted the dirt and de
bris and the diggers themselves from
the we'll. On Monday morning, how
ever, a stranger struck town in search
of work. He was a red-faced, pussy
German, with bullying blue eyes, very
silent but very good-natured. So Ock-
erson hired him, and from 8 in the
morning till 5 in. the evening, with
but an hour for rest at noon, he had
tugged and painted at the rough handle
Of the Windlass. That hour he had
spent In a most extraordinary manner,
for Doc Peterson had watched him
stroll down the main street to the edge
Of town and then run like a cottontail
for the woods half a mile away. How
ever, he was back at his post at /
O'Clock and the work went on in
silence. At 5 o'clock Ockerson came I'D
in the bucket.
Il got the drill in about five inches"
he said to Higgins, who was ready to
descend. Il think the next blast will
fetch her. Better make a deep hole
this time and drop in two sticks O. dyn-
amite. It won't take morh' half an
hour, Jedge:''
"All right, Ock," said the Judge, get
ting into the bucket with an admoni-
tory easy; easy, meinherr!v
At $50 from the depths of the we'll
came the workers voice: eli, up
there! Get ready to hist"
Put in a two-minute fuse, LEDGER
shouted the Sheriff, peering down into
the we'll. "How deep's the drill?"
Twelve inches," was the answer.
There was silence for five minutes.
Ockerson leaning over the brink of the
abyss, the German at the handle watt
for the word: A little man with an
old-fashioned musket had come up un-
noticed and was sitting on a heap Of
stones just behind the German. He
nothing. The fat worker at the
windlass eyed him with vacant, watery
eyes.
Are you ready, mein herr?" came
the voice of Judge Higgins.
"All ready!!" cried the German.
Peering into the black abyss Sheriff
could see the flash of a
match and then the red sputter of the
fuse. The windlass creaked as the
bent to his task, but Ockerson.
leaning over, was saying: "IIl bet
she'll come in tonight, Jedge."
Hope So" answered the voice risino
swiftly toward the surface. 81 piled
the loose rocks ever the dynamite
ind packed it down with clay. Bet the
wreck the"
His head was almost level with the
surface, but he did not finish the SEN
Ience. The sudden shot of a gun near
ne Germans ear caused him to drop
NE handle. Down went man n
bucket with a scream and a crash.
Ockerson turned swiftly round n
saw Henry Etling, the little sheen
nan, just posing a ragged rock. Be-
ore the Sheriff could dodge it struck
Inn full in the face. He never heard
ne awful explosion that followed in
ne well. nor felt the final crash Of an
'ther stone which the wiry little Ell
ing dropped upon his head. In five
MINUTES the whole town was running
nto the corral, crowding round the
ne WELL They found the Dutcbman
hysterical with fright; Ocker-
'on quite dead, but from the smoke
'o1nltlng oriice in the earth came
10 sound but the rush and gurgle of
water as the well "came in" Nor did
anyone see the little sheep man in
again, though his shack is
'eoullt and his Dutch partner lives
WIN him in all the serenity of peace
III toll and an unruffled conscience.
AS Tor Doc Peterson, the Coroner. he
) very proud Of his first verdict. which
vas Death by a premature exnlos;on
~ the part of Judge Chef Higgins. and
" a fragment OF flying rock on rbo
'ar' OF Sheriff Bill Ockerson, both be-
brought about by the accidents,
of a gun in the hands of q
,arty or parties to us unknown."-John
l. l ha1tery, in the Chicago Record