Martinsburg herald. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1881-1920, 1904-05-21

Darrell drew it as quickly As those
around him.
where's the marshal?~ 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. sayagely. 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 un-
dertaker." returned Darrell. His voice
was Of velvet but 1t cut. like steel.
when I open my gunpIay, what
miss in the original deal try to make
up in the draw. | am Nate Darrell, or
San Francisco. Some of you have
probably heard of me and may know
that my word is as good as my bond.
ola not Kill lnAL man
His declaration was drowned In q
derisive jeer. He knew he would not
be believed so he was not disappoint-
ed.
Il did not kill that man. he re-
peated with deliberate emphasis, "and
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 chance to
sift this affair That's all you can ex-
pect of me-
Every man in the rabble carried a
revolver and every revolver had leaped
from pocket or holster.
"Shooting's 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 1t turned the mob's attention to
rope instead of a bullet and would
consume more time in the execution.
Messengers We're dispatched here and
there, but before anything could be
done 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 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 traill"
There was nothing In the marshal's
hands to enforce the order. He was
known to be man of few words and
prompt action, however. and the crowd
sulIenly parted.
Then, with his arm in barrels the
marshal started his prisoner for the
jail. The rabble, muttering wild
threats and chatting with batfied rage,
tagged at their heels.
CHAPTER ".
BARRELS ESCAPE.
Eponay creek skirted the confines Of
Sandy Bar. The left bank was nat
reach of sand which gave the camp its
name; but the right bank, on which the
settlement had been built, was high
and bluff-like and "gophered" with
tunnels.
The bar was rich In placer gold.
When the sand had been Graded over
prospecting for quartz dykes began and
many q ssctripoart hod y><,x. f<xl1cx,,na
inward from the face of the right
bank.
The stringers had pinched out The
south bank, however, had not been
abandoned as worthless until fairly
honeycombed with drifts that led to
nothing but country rock.
Thus 1t followed that the camp had
under 1t sort OF catacombs wherein
lay buried thousand hopes of disap-
pointed miners. To this fact, as will
be seen, Nate Darrell owed his life.
The Sandy Bar jail was log struct-
ure that had outlived Its usefulness as
miners cabin. 1t was situated not
more than so feet from the brink of the
steep. brush-covered bank OF the
Eponay.
In the single room Of this makeshift
jail Darrell and the marshal presently
found themselves. a tallow dip" splut-
tering feebly on the table. Outside the
mob could be heard scurrying about in
ominous silence.
They're worked up to beat four of
kind" muttercd the marshal, listen
ing to the sounds from without, "but
q: 49, IN
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