Hopkinsville Kentuckian. [volume] (Hopkinsville, Ky.) 1889-1918, 1902-11-18
IIXTANDER he comes. mammyl''

cred, weary woman came out of the
house with two dirty children at her
heels and behind them a half-grown,
red-headed gangling girl, with two
fierce little braids sticking away
from her poll.
A burly man on ragged pony
came galloping down the country
road.
Supper ready, Mag2" he bawled
at the woman.
Supper Why. faint no more'n
seven o'clock. What's upP"
What's upl Everything is up!
Squinty Smith has gone an done it
right this time. lie killed Frank
Copley in the Hazard s'loon, put four
cold uns in tn dep'ty sheriff, and
Lord knows how many he's ashot
scnce 1 left town"
The children stared in awed aston
ishment at this bloody news and fol-
lowed him round to the corral.
"Well, what y'all lookin' at? Here,
you, Siss," to the red-headed girl,
get a move on you. Marian, don't
stand thar all night like you was
locoed. Git my supper"
did you see him, Hank?"
"See who?"
"Why, him, Squinty Smith?"
"See him! OF course didn't see
him. IF I seen him it'd been all up
with him! I'd a ribbed him up with
lead till he'd a-sunk his own grave.
But 1 didn't have no gun, nohow.
Sheriff Housman says I must iine the
posse, an 1 says: Sheriff, If I'd a
been sheriff stead o. you, I wouldn't
need no posse for to letch Squinty
Smith nor no other onery outlaw
like him So 1 didn't have no gun.
so just come home for t. git supper
an ready up my arsenal. Git a move
on thar, Siss!"
The red-headed girl tossed her
head and disappeared into the tum-
ble-down kitchen. The mother got
busy with pot and pan, and the man,
clustering fiercely about what "he'd
a-done if he only had his weapons"
pulled his Winchester out of the
closet and began to slip cartridges
into the magazine.
81 don't want no more'n a peep at
that gol-dinged Squinty Smith, no
how. He alluz wuz onery, an he
otta been put outa biz a long time
ago. He's had Sheriff Housman
bluffed for two year an more, an
he's got purity nigh every man in
Plankton buffaloed! But I'll show
| him!"
The mans slatternly children stood
about him in gaping admiration. The
red-headed girl stuck her head in at
the door and said;
"What did you fetch feat, daddy?"
"Dry up, you ninny; 1 didn't have
no time to think about fetchin' home
nothin'. l come home to git suthin'
I come home to git my weapons, an
if ever l ketch a peep at that dang
At this instant there was a sharp,
rasping click at the open window and
blue-barreled gun muzzle jumped
into the light.
Hold up your hands, MITCHELL"
said a quiet but very distinct voice.
The big man at the table held up
his hands with a foolish effort to
smile at the face that looked over
the gun.
"Quit yer foolin', Smith," he said,
weakly; put it down an come in
Squinty Smith. bull-necked. one
eyed ruffian got in at the window
without foregoing an instant of his
advantage.
'I'll take charge OF these, Mitch
he said, coolly putting his hosts pis-
toll into his coat pocket, "aBd this
Both snide-looling guns, but III take
charge o. them"
Mitchell sat still, his wife and Siss
watching the performance from the
darkness of the kitchen, while Smith
walked out into the lot and deliber
ately dumped the rife and the pisto
into the well.
scot any more guns?" he asked
coming back.
"Nary a gun, Smith," answered
Mitchell, trying to wink knowingly
at his wife.
| "All rlgnu, you can let down YOU
mitts," quoth the outlaw "You si
thar, and here, Mrs. Mitchell, yol
set alongside. Now make that gal O
your'n git me some supper"
The scared children huddled in tn,
corner behind their fallen hero. Tn,
woman, fascinated into submission
sat beside her husband. The outlaw
his big, blue revolver beside hi
plate, attacked the pile of corr
bread. Siss, the red-headed, nerv
Gus viperish looking girl, game il
and out with a dish of potatoes
some fried bacon and a can of water
"What makes you act so foolish
SmithyP" Mitchell was whining
saint nothin' wrong, is they? 70,
might a-l1nowed I'd give you you
supper 'thout no such row as that
'You might and you mightn't. Go
J any eggs?" growled Smith, leerin
, at Siss out of his one vindictive eye
saint got none fur you'll" snappe
.. the little virago, bridling with fur
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