Monroe City Democrat. (Monroe City, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1904-09-29

I
build great navies-hoping to make the
arbitrament OF war still more remote.
BY coming to Sandy Bar in quest of
Murgatroyd he had faced an issue at
direct variance with his inclinations.
He was we'll aware that fatalities were
almost certain TO result; II he we're
he victim, no. aching void would be
left in the world, while If MuTgatroyd
Tell the cause of humanity would be
dvanced.
But he wanted no exchange Of shots
with Stureis He had threatened, but
it was with the forlorn hope of avoid
ing a clash.
AS the irate blackleg plunged for
ward. Darrell threw himself to one side.
At that precise moment shot rang
out from some point at barrels rear,
bullet famed his cheek and Sturgis,
with an agonized cry, tossed his hands
in the afr, reeled and fell face down
ward on, the sidewalk.
Darrell was stunned by the sudden
ness of the tragedy. In a second he
had whirled to look back up the street,
but saw no one. Then he did the
worst thing possible for himself by
Fastening to the PROSTATE form and
making an examination.
Sturgis was already dead. The bullet
had penetrated his heart and a stream
Of blood flowed from the wound and
formed a pool beneath him.
The shot and the tortured cry Of the
| dying man had aroused the people.
| h. hnn
| run, and from Hawkbill's and other
resorts a half-drunken mob charged
| for the scene.
Darrell was found standing over
| Sturgis revolver in hand. Sturgis was
dead and the habitues of Hawkbills
new that Sturgis and Darrell had
| quarreled at cards.
Only one inference was possible.
Darrell drew it as quickly as those
around him.
| Where's the marshall" he asked,
his voice perfectly steady.
| His hand frightened a little on the
revolver and he retreated slowly until
his back was against the wall of the
nearest building, the half circle of
threatening faces in front.
I'VE don't need the marshal" said
Cliff, savagely. Jack Sturgis is dead
and you're the one that killed him.
Do we need the marshal, boys?"
He appealed to the crowd. A snarl-
ing negative passed through the ranks
Of the crowd and the half circle be-
gan to contract.
You'll need the marshal or the I'M
| dertaker," returned Darrell. His voice
! was of velvet but it cut like steel.
When I open my gunplay, what l
miss in the original deal try to make
up in the draw. | am Nate Darrell, of
San Francisco. Some of you have
probably heard of me and may know
that my word is as good as my bond.
| did not kill that man"
His declaration was drowned in
derisive jeer. He knew he would not
be believed so he was not disappoint-
ed.
81 did not kill that man." he re-
peated with deliberate emphasis, land
if you force me to fight for my life for
whatever happens you alone will be
responsible. | want the marshal and
am willing to be put under lock and
key until the coroner has a chance to
slit this affair. That's all you can ex-
pect of me-"
Every man in the rabble carried
revolver and every revolver had Ieaped
from pocket or holster.
"Shootings too good for him!"
shouted some one at the rear of the
crowd.
The yelled suggestion was grasped on
the instant 1t was well for Darrell,
since it turned the mob's attention to
a rope instead of bullet and would
consume more time in the execution.
Messengers were dispatched here and
there, but before anything could be
done a burly, brOad-shouldered man
parted the ranks of the rabble left and
right and reached barrels side.
Give me that gum" he demanded
CURLY. I'm the marshal"
Darrell yielded up the weapon with
out a word.
Now" cried the marshal, this fell
low goes to the lookup, without any
ifs, nor ands, nor whyevers. There
amt man of you that packs the nerve
to stop me and you know it. Scatter
from in front of us and clear the trail!"
There was nothing in the marshal's
hands to enforce the order. He was
known to be a man of few words and
prompt action, however, and the crowd
sullenly parted.
Then, with his arm in barrels the
marshal started his prisoner for the
| Jail. The rabble muttering wild