Amador ledger., 1906-03-30

ing the collar OF his coat. His own
position was now a very delicate one,
and he knew it. If the Sheriif nad
pals, his adversary would pay with
his life for the punishment he had
inflicted. Apparently, however. the
man had no friends. for not a soul
except the landlord and John himself
troubled to find out whether he was
still alive.
Nothing, as it happened, was serious
ly wrong with Lassiter. He was
knocked OUT and severely bruised
and would be marked for weeks, but
a stiff glass of brandy speedily re-
vived him; and his shooting irons
were removed from him. A few min
utes later Ogden was remounting to
continue his journey, with pleased
countenance and somewhat sore
knuckles. As he swung into the sad
die, he was accosted by the Mexican.
'Senor, where you Vamos now?"
"Why?"
City night time? No. That Sheriff
kill you" John shifted.
His funeral might come first. Still,
you meant well. Thanks, my boy"
He smiled, and with the impulse of
| Aus
"Adios amigo" he said.
The Mexican's face shone. "Ah,
gracious Senior, .neyair forget"
A month later the spring roundup
was over, and John Ogden was a free
man, with $100 in his, pocket, prepar-
ing to take summer holiday. This he
decided to spend in Calhoun City. The
reason which drew him to Calhoun
was one which he would not even own
to himself-homesickn The rail-
road had now reached the town, and,
it was said, had brought cargo of
people from the East decked out in
the glories of civilized attire, and John
longed to see anything that would re-
mind him of old days. So to Calhoun
he went straight away, and to Jeph-
sons. There, on the second day, he
met the Sheriff, and a pleased light
came into Lassiters crafty eyes as at
the sight of something he had wished
to see for long time.
"Hev a drink" he said cordially.
my turn now. Order yourself
i Ogden did so, his right hand within
easy grasp of his revolver. But no
move was made against him, and after
close observance of the man he came
to the conclusion that none would be
made. Burt Lassiter was a coward
This matter cleared up, John settled
down for game of cards. He was
generally lucky player, but tonight
everything went against him and he
lost twenty-five dollars This was bad,
but what was worse was a suspicion
that he had been cheated. He could
not prove it, and he took his bad luck
| in silence, but such an experience is
i never conducive to sweet temper, and
hJohn, when he woke next morning,
after a restless night, was in a very
morose and uncharitable mood. What
should he do? go for his mail? Hestrol-
1 led over to the post-ofice at once and
asked for letters.
Slade, the postmaster, was sweeping
out his room. He, toe, was queer
tempered man. A lean, wiry Yankee,
with wrinkled face like monkey s
and a high-pitched voice.
| He took no notice of Johns request,
except to say sharply:
| "Come in an hour" X
Now considering the mailbag was
at that moment reposing on the coun.
ter at the back of the room, this was
a little hard. John stood quite still
for minute, his wrath rising within
him, then, without deigning to speak
again, he strobe to the bag and, break
ing the seal, prepared to scatter its
contents upon the counter. Before he
could do it the postmaster flew at him
like a wild cat, and snatched the bag
from his hands.
''Ye cow-punching devil, you. If
there was a shred of law in this Cod
forsaken place, I'd have ye arrested
for robbing the United States mail. AS
it is, you'll"
But he got no further, for Johns
temper had boiled over, and, catching
the little man by the back of the neck,
he shook him until he was black in
the face, then tossed him like an empty
sack to the other side of the room.
Slade was up in moment drawing
a revolver, John did the same, more
quickly, but he did not fire. The post
master only carried a little nickel
plated pistol five inches long, a mere
toy beside Ogden great army Colt.
"Put it up," said John quietly. "This
thing is not worth life.' He lower
ed his own pistol as he spoke, when
from behind there came sharp "ping"
of a rifle bullet, and the postmaster
staggered against the wall, falling up
on his face dead. At the same instant
John felt hot iron touch the back of
his neck and voice, Burt Lassiter's
said curtly:
| Hands up!"
Continued neat oeek.)
| l.