The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1902-01-11

shouldn't have fancied going over the
mountain with a coach load O. dust,
and only two armed men-and one Of
EN- a civilian-to guard it"
"Who said there were only two
armed men," interrupted a 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 laughir G.
~ 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.
whats happened to that fellow
Moonbeam, sergeant?" asked Charlie
Wilson, after 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."
"Yes," laughed Charlie, "he's given
you chaps rough time for the last
year or two. / can't help admiring
the pluck of the fellow though he
is such bad lot"
"A bad lot" growled the sergeant.
| 0IJos. x,,rrJar;,,s Gillian that's xvb n 4
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 lot of rot, l 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 a bead on him."
"You think not" said the sergeant,
sharply. swell, think, as I've said.
that Moonbeam, as he is called, is a
murderin' BLACKBOARD, and if 1 could
get chance at him I'd plug him as
/ would bandicoot."
swell, well, sergeant" laughed the
other, mo offense, and, as / say,
haven't heard much about the chap
What's he like? Have you ever seen
him?"
"Only once" said the sergeant
slowly, "but 1 think I'd know him
again."
"Well," laughed the other, 81 can
only hope for Moonbeam's sake, that
you won't happen to meet him."
At that moment a 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 1 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 I had wrune
dear old Charles hand for the last
time for many a day and taken my
seat in the coach. 1t was a light
spring coach, with covering over il
and two parallel seats. In the front
one sat the driver, and by his side
Sergt. Fulton, with a loaded rife be-
tween his knees. In the back seat sal
Landon, Jones, and myself; Jones
with his bag of gold on his knees, be-
ing in the center.
i 1t 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 oul
continuous journey, Landon especial
| ly being in a particularly facetious
frame of mind. As 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 fancy
that we all tacitly took him to be 9
commercial traveller. Certainly he
knew the road well, and even at thai
hour of the night pointed out the va
rious landmarks of interest as we
passed-landmarks 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 great bould
err doomed out, white and giostlike il
the flash of the coach lamps on oul
right.
i peered with interest at the spo'
pointed out by Landon. The story o.
that particular Clarke exploit of some
years before was known to everyone
"They were darned well sold thai
time" growled Sergt. Fulton as h
glanced over his shoulder at the his
torical rock.
| Eyes, by gum" said Landon, "and
serve 'em right, too-it was the wors1
managed bit of business I've heard
of for many day-leastways," he
added hurriedly, "that's what pal O.
mine said when he read of it, but
Lord a. mercy, fancy man havin' thu
!. grit to be a bushranger, with dealt
starin' him in the face every hour O.