The Columbia herald. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 18??-1935, 1905-05-19

"YOu'Ve trapped HpeP'
you never did a bigger fool thing AN
you did when you listened to my tale
about that lump o gold"
you've trapped me" burst from
Craig's Quivering lips.
That's about the size of It."
"But-why?" The words formed the
! beginning and the end of a gasp.
Pole lowered over him. the revolver
In his tense hand.
Mr.. Craig. thar is one man in this
world that I'd die fer twenty times
over. love i'm more than a brother.
That man you've robbed of every dol
lar an hope on earth. I've fetched You
beer to die a lingerin' death. ef-ef.
say, ef-you don't refund his money.
That man is Alan Bishop, an the
amount is $25. 1000 to a cent"
But | haven't any money" moaned
the crouching figure; mot dollar that
kin lay my hands on"
Then you are in a purity bad fix"
said Pole Unless l git that amount
O. money from you you'll never smell
a breath O. fresh air or see natural
dn-I;rht".
You mean to all helpless MANI"
The words were like a prayer.
"I'd bottle you up heer to die" said
Pole Baker firmly. you've met me
in this lonely spot, an no man could
lay yore end to me- In fact, all that
know you would swear you'd run off
from the folks you've defrauded. You
see, nothin' but that money o. Alan
Bishops kin possibly save you. You
know that well enough, an thar amt
a bit O. use palaverin' about it, I've
fetched pen an ink an paper, an
you've got to write me an order fel
the money If l have to go as fur off
as Atlanta. I'll take the fust train an
go after it. If git the money, yor
git out; eff | don't. you won't see me
ag'in nur nobody else till you face yore
Maker"
Craig bent over his knees and
groaned.
You think have money!" he said.
Strengthening up. "Oh. my Godv'
IL know it," said Pole. II don't
think anything about it, know it."
He took out the pen and ink from his
pants pocket and unfolded a sheet of
paper. "Git to work." he said. "You
needn't try to turn me, you burned old
hog"
Craig raised a pair of wide open.
helpless eyes to the rigid face above
him.
"Oh. my God" he said again.
"You let God alone an git down to
business" said Pole, taking a fresh
hold of the handle of his weapon.
I'm not goin' to waste time with you.
Either you git me Alan Bishops money
or you'll die Hurry upv'
xviii you keep faith, with me-if-
if',-
"Yes. durn you, why wouldn't II"
A CLEAN of triumph flashed in the out
laws eyes.
The ex-banker had taken the pen
and Pole spread out the sheet of paper
on his knee
mered Craig. his face like death mask
against the rock behind him. You
see, after you got the money. you
might think it safer to leave me here,
that would prosecute you.
/ wouldn't, as God is my judge. but
you might be afraid
am not afraid o. nothin'." said
Pole. "Old man. you couldn't handle
me without putin yoreself in jail fer
the rest O. yore life. That orders
agoin' to be proof that you have money
when you've swore publicly that you
didn't. No; when I'm paid back Alan
Bishops money I'll let you go. don't
want to kill man fer jest tryin' to
steal an not maxim the rifle"
The logic struck home. The warmth
Of hope diffused itself over the gaunt
form.
"Then I'll write a note to my wife,"
he said.
Pole reached for one OF the torches
and held it near the paper.
well. I'm glad won't have to go
furder N barley" be said. ut II be
better fer both Of us. BY ridln' peert |
can let you out before shutdown. You
may git late supper at barley. but
It's sight better n gittin' none hecr
an, no bsd to speak Of"