The Goldfield news. [volume] (Goldfield, Nev.) 1904-1911, 1905-12-22

A Typical Story of a Western Mining
Camp

"He's got to hangi"
"That's his third man!''
The n narrow street of the frontier
town was filed with a surging crowd
of excited men. They were Indian
fighters, scouters, gamblers, tramps,
peculators-everything and every
body.
Big Jim vas the bully of Hill City,
and the story of his last adventure
stamps him as a man whom some would
call heroic. He could drink more, curse
louder, shoot quicker and start a row
sooner than any other man. When ne
shot Timber Joe it was a stand off. IT
was rough against rough. Whoever
went under, the town would be thu
gamer. The death of his second victim
brought him a certain respect, for he
had given the man a fair show. There
was a limit to the number of men one
might kill in Hill City. 1t was three
times and out. Big Jim had killed his
third.
Two hundred men-all excited
some half c~razed-all indignant, some
terribly aroused, surged down the street
to the Red Star saloon, bent on ven-
geance. Big Jim and the man he had
killed were alone in the place.
There was a rush, but it was checked.
Men had pistols and knives in their
hands, but the sight of Big Jim with a
big "navy'' in each hand cooled their
ardor. A life for a life is no revenge.
They lied when they called him a bully.
Bullies strike and run, or buster, and
dare not strike. They lied when thsy
called him a coward. towards do not
remain to face death.
Big Jim advanced a little. The
crowd fell back. He stood in the door
and surveyed the mob as another man
might look up at the ~pine-covered crest
at Carter's peak. The mob grew quiet.
There were 200 right hands clutching
deadly weapons, but not a hand moved.
Two hundred to one is appalling odds,
but the one was master. Seeming to
face every man Of them-with the
black muzzle of his revolver-the mar
backed away up the road and into the
darkness, out of their sight and hearing.
Out into the darkness, down the
rough road-over the rude bridge, and
there Big Jim put up his revolvers,
turned his face square to the west and
stepped out without a look back to the
camp. 1t was ten miles to Harvey's
bend. Men, driven from one camp took
refuge in the other. The halfway land.
mark was a bit of a valley skirted by 4
creek. Wayfarers who were journeying
by team many times halted there. On
this night there was a lone wagon. I'm
der the canvas cover slept a mother
and four children. Resting against the
wheel was the husband and father, his
eyes piercing into the darkness, his
ears drinking in every sound.
Big Jim had not reached the va ley
yet when the still night air was rent
with war whoops, the crack of rifles,
the screams of a woman and her chill
dren. Indians had discovered the lone
and almost defenseless family. TIL =
were five scalps to adorn their lodges.
The bully and the coward had not bean
discovered. He could find a safe hid .ng
place. Did he's
A half-dozen screaming, yelling fends
were dancing about the wagon shoot e,
striking, closing in on the one white
man who somehow escaped their blows
and bullets, when there was a cheer and
a rush, and the navies began to crack.
Sixty seconds later silence had fallen
on the valley.
One. two, three dead Indians. The
immigrant leaned against the wagon,
faint with a wound n his head. The
wife looked out with an awful terror
in her heart.
"Who are you9" asked the imri-
grant.
"Big JIM
"You saved is from massacre.
"There is no further danger"
When the blaze caught the fresh
fagots and lighted up the little valiy
the immigrant counted the dead In
l:.n ooo;n He turned with extended
hand, but Big Jim had departed. Next
day when men from Hills and Har-
yey's found his dead body beside the
rocks a mile away, with five wounds,
they whispered to each other, we
didn't size him up right. "-Brooklyn
Citizen.
STEWART OWNED IT ALL