The Bellefontaine Republican. [volume] (Bellefontaine, Logan County, Ohio) 1855-1905, 1904-04-15

away. full OF buckshot holes. while Mr..
Watts solicitously examined n small
aperture in the skirts OF his brown coat.
The house commanded the road. and
the rush OF the mob into the village
was checked. but only for the instant.
A rickety woodshed which formed a
portion OF the Skillet mansion closely
Joined the Last Chance" side OF the
family place OF business. Scarcely had
the guns of the defenders sounded
when. with a loud shout. Lige Willetts
leaped from an upper window on that
side of the burning saloon and landed
on the woodshed and. Immediately
climbing the roof of the mansion itself,
applied a brand to the dry. time worn
clapboards Ross Schofield dropped on
the woodshed close behind him, his
arm lovingly Unfolding a gallon jug OF
whisky, which he emptied mot without
evident regreo upon the clapboards as
Lige fired them. Flames burst forth
almost instantly. and the smoke, unit
ing with that now rolling out OF every
window OF the saloon, went up to heav-
en- in cumbrous, gray column.
AS the flames began to spread there
was a rapid fusillade from the rear Of
the house. and a hundred men and
more. who had kept on through the
fields to the north, assailed II from be-
hind. Their shots passed clear through
the fiimsy partitions. and there was a
screaming like beasts howls from with
In. The front door was thrown open.
and a lean. fierce eyed girl, with a case
knife I'm her hand. ran out in the face
of the mob. At sound OF the shots in
the rear they had begun to advance on
the house a second time. and Hartley
Bowlder was the nearest man to the
girl. With awful words and shrieking
inconceivably she made straight AT
Hartley and attacked him with the
knife. She struck at him again and
again. and in her anguish of hate and
fear she was so extraordinary a specta-
Gle that she gained for her companions
the seconds they needed TO escape from
the house. As she hurled herself alone
at the oncoming torrent they sped from
the door unnoticed. sprang over the
fence and reached the open lots TO the
west before they were seen by Willetts
from the roof.
Don't let 'em fool youw he shouted
Look to your left! There they go!
Don't let 'em get awayw
The Crossroaders were running across
the field. They were Bob Skillet and
his younger brother. and Mr.. Skillet
was badly damaged. He seemed TO be
holding his jaw on his face with both
hands. The girl turned and sped after
them. She was over the fence almost
as soon as they were. and the three rar
in single file, the girl last. She was Ell
ther magnificently sacrificial and fear
less or she cunningly calculated that
the regulators would take no chances
Of killing a woman-child, for she kept
between their guns and her two com
panions. trying to cover and shield the
latter with her frail body.
"Shoot, Lige," called Watts. 'If we
fire from here well hit the girl. Shootr
Willetts and Ross Schofeld were still
standing on the roof at the edge out
Of the smoke. and both fired at the
same time. The fugitiyes did not turn
They kept on running. and they had
nearly reached the other side OF the
field when suddenly, without any pre-
monitory gesture, the elder Skillet
dropped fiat on his face The Cross
readers stood by each other that day
for four or Ave men ran out OF the
nearest shanty into the open. lifted the
PROSTATE figure from the ground and
began to carry 1t back with them. But
Skillet was alive. His curses were
heard above all other sounds. Ligs
and Schofeld fired again, and one OF
the rescuers staggered. Nevertheless:
as the two men slid down from the ROOT
the burdened Crossroaders were seer
to break into run, and at that, with
another yell. fiercer. wilder, more Joy
Gus than the first, the Plattville mer
followed.
The yell rang loudly in the ears oi
IN the road, and at the same instant
he heard another shout behind him
He had not shared in the attack; but
greatly preoccupied with his own his
trionic affairs, was proceeding alon,
up the pike, except for the unhappy
yellow mongrel still dragged along by
the rope. and alternating, as was hi:
natural wont. from one fence to tn,
other. crouching behind every bush Il
fire an imaginary rifle at the dog an(
then springing out with triumphan
bellowings to fall prone upon the terri
lied animal 1t was after one OF thes,
Victories tina. a shout of warning wa
raised behind him. and Mr.. Wilkerson
by grace Of the god Bacchus. rolling
| nut OF the way In time TO save his life
'aw u horse dash by him. a big. blacl
| Iorse whose polished tanks were drip
ping with latEer. Warren Smith wa
the rider. He was waving slip Of yel
low paper high in the air.
He rode up the slope and drew reil
beyond the burning buildings jus
ahead OF those foremost In the pursuit
oppose their progress. rose in his stir
rups and waved the paper over hi
head. stop" he roared. Give IN
ole minute. Stop He had a gram
voice. and he was known In man
parts OF the state for the great has
roar with which he startled his jurie:
To be heard ut u distance most me
lift the pitch OF their voice. Smit
lowered his an octave or two. and tn
result was like an earthquake playin
An organ In a catacomb.
stop" he Numbered. ''Stopr'
In answer one OF the flying Gross
readers turned and sent bullet whis
tiing close to him. The lawyer pause
long enough to bow deeply in satirics
response: then. hourishing the paper
he roared again: stop! A mistake
l have news, Stop. say. Horner ha
got them