Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1904-03-29
CHAPTER IX-CoNTINUED.
By BOOTH TARkLWGTOW

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 botf
hands. The girl turned and sped after
them. She was over the fence almost
as soon as they were, and the three ran
in single file. the girl last. She was Ell
ther magnif1cently 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 We'll hit the girl. Shoot!'
Willetts and Ross Schofield were still
standing on the roof at the edge out
OF the smoke, and both fired at the
same time. The fugitives 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 fat on his face. The Cross
readers stood by each other that day,
for four or five men ran out Of the
nearest shanty into the open, lifted the
PROSTATE figure from the ground and
began to carry it back with them. But
Skillet was alive. His curses were
heard above all other sounds. Lige
and Schofield fired again, and one of
the rescuers staggered. Nevertheless
as tine two men slid down from the roof
the burdened Crossroaders were seen
to break into run, and at that, with
another yell, fiercer, wilder, more JOY
GUS than the first. the Plattville men
followed.
The yell rang loudly in the ears Of
old Wilkerson, who had remained back
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 alone
up the pike. except for the unhappy
yellow mongrel still dragged along by
The rope, and alternating, us was his
natural wont, from one fence to the
other crouching behind every bush to
fire an imaginary rifle at the dog and
then springing out with triumphant
bellowings to fall prone upon the terri
fed animal. 1t was after one Of these
victories that shout Of warning was
raised behind him, and Mr.. Wilkerson,
by grace Of the god Bacchus, rolling
out of the way In time to save his life,
saw horse dash by him, big, black
horse whose polished f1anks were drip
ping with lather. Warren Smith was
the rider. He was waving slip Of yel-
low paper high in the air.
He rode up the slope and drew rein
beyond the burning buildings just
ahead of those foremost in the pursuit
He threw his horse across the road to
oppose their progress, rose in his STIR
rups and waved the paper over his
head. Stop" he roared. "Give me
one minute! Stop! He had grand
voice, and he was known in many
parts of the state for the great bass
roar with which he startled his juries.
TO be heard at distance most men
lift the pitch Of their voice. Smith
lowered his an octave or two, and the
result was like an earthquake playing
an organ in catacomb.
stop" he thundered. "Stop!'
In answer one Of the flying Cross
readers turned and sent bullet whis-
tling close to him. The lawyer paused
long enough to bow deeply in satirical
response; then, tourishing the paper.
he roared again: Stop! A mistake!
I have news. Stop, say! Horner has
got them"
To make himself heard over that
tempeStuous advance was feat; for
him, moreover, whose counsels had so
lately been derided, to interest the pur-
suers at such Il moment enough to
make them listen-to find the word
was greater and by the word and
by gestures at once vehemently i'm
perious and imploring to stop them
was still greater. But he did it. He
had come at just the moment before
the moment that would have been too
late. They all heard him. They all
knew, too, that he was not trying to
save the Crossroads as matter Of
duty, because lie had given that up be-
fore the mob left Plattville. Indeed, it
was 4 question If at the last he had
not tacitly approved. and no one feared
indictments for the days work. 1t
would do no harm to listen to what lie
had to say. The work could wait. 1t
would keep for five minutes. They
began to gather around him, excited,
flushed, perspiring and smelling Of
smoke. Hartley Bowlder, won by
Lige's desperation and intrepidity, was
helping the latter tie up his head. No
one else was hurt.
What is it," they clamored impa-
tiently. Speak quick" There was
another harmless shot from fugitive,
and then tie Crossroaders, divining
that the diversion was In their favor,
secured themselves in their decrepit
Businesses and held their fire. Mean
while the flames cracked cheerfully
i'm Plattville ears. No matter what the
prosecutor had to say, at least the Skill
lett saloon and homestead were gone,
and Bob Skillet and one other would
be sick enough to be good for awhile.
"Listenw cried Warren Smith, and,
rising in his stirrups again. read the
mlssive in his hand, western Union