The Forrest City times., 1903-12-18

cordiallty in the ~How," with which l he greeted him. while the warmth of Bolsnde's answer stIOye witt paei- acztnry aneasiness
 When finally the Eiint of Boiande's dingy weapon struggled through the smoke Of the room 60 the marshsrs eye he said quietly. that others might not hear. Jesse. stick your gun be- hind the bar i'll you're leaving town. Can't let you tote your gun in this mans town nov"
 Perhaps there was too much of the city marshal and too little O. the friend On hint of rieor. and there was a twtnE of dehaace ia his tone as he tried 10 laugh out his Owning this place nov. are you. msrshai7.
 There was too little subtility in Bo- lande's intonation to deceive the mar shal in is portert. and he flung back q sharo reply: Any skin of YOU. fl do7"
 And Bolande calred before he oth- CTS fraLk resentment and struggling himself again nurnured: Nope But tharll bs scne of ihe man that tries 10 take ny gtIn away"
 Ain nst pie8din-iy the gni.seeni marshal anss cred: Jesse. I'll give you LII six 10 put up your gun. or pull your frc:ght out of this
 Stili more unassgmIngly. but still more firmly. BolaEde answered. "YcgE
 find me right nere al six Bri7g : our ncrYc with you. marshal. Have drink 2"
 Don't mind if do. Jesse. Here's how, and they drained the martyr dom with unfinehing guste Then she marshal turned 10 leave. and Rolapdc sang out. with no whit of banter in his voice:
 50 long. marshal. Six o'clock. is it7"
 Six. Jesse" he answered. with AS much of tender appeal in his voice as was possible in the throat made brass with the law western air. and a heart grown aiaty with years of concealed. repressed. end thereby little-anown emotion. Better think it over, i Jesse ?
 Bolande only answered half anolo- getically: I'm not heavy or the think" and retrieved himself from tenderness with a blunt, but I'll be here. six foot two in my socks" The outer day had swallowed the mar shal.
 The exposure of all the eyes am- pushed behind heavy eyebrows and low-brimmed hats was Bolande. who was again al the bar rigid and erect as tower. One hand played tat too with his half-emptied glass. the other hoyered at the butt of his pis- tol. He was stolid. alert, grim. deadly.
 The whizz and boom of the striking clock startled everyone in the almost noiseless room. The fights of from tiersmen are generally the sudden promptings of an unforeseen rage. For nal. punetual duello is rare Even Bo- lande was little nervous, and eulped not infrequently stimulants to whet his nerves and aager to the nicety of a razor. With knowledge born of life long experience. he had equally re trained from drinking himself past the best form.
 The marshal evidently thought # only right 10 give his cid friend three minutes of grace for il was a little after the hour when his step was heard on the board walk outside His lean, strong figure was clad in his best broadcloth-he would fight like a gen i tleman. ready for grave or triumph | That his ready-made suit was much too 1 loose hardly marred the untheatric ! sublimity of his erect. stern stubborn. ] AnClo-Saxon courage. In very mod esty he pulled his broad-hrlmmed hat 1 over the panther blaze of his ruthless glare
 l When the marshal entered the sa- i loon. Bolande waited calmly fer his 1 eyes 10 learn the denser twilight of the room. His hand drew little nearer his revolver. but forebore 10 draw IL or even clutch it's handle. AS the marshal's searching look made out Bolandes form. and hunting further, found his pistol undethroned l his teeth set hard upon the last plea of friendship. and with a perfectly level voice he said, inquisitorially | calm: You're still here. I see"
 I'm here" came an answer of equal phlegm.
 And though there was cry of irony in his voice. yet 1t was quiet as the marshal declared war thus: Then, by i God, look out for yourself"
 With epic equality and speed the weapons lcaped into position. The spectators. knowing no shots would be wasted. kept only from the immediate neighborhood of the fight Two semi circles of faint glamour marked the path of the revolvers as they flashed from hip to aim. A spitting of quick fire-two sharp sGiacks of noise. so twined that neither eye nor ear could name the earlier. and the reyolyers had spoken, Neither in vain.
 Bolande fought with his arm swing ing free. his whole body exposed. The marshals first bullet hit him in the depth of his chest and whirled him
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