The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1909-01-05

ton at my words but he replied:
 "You credit me with too much pow
 CT and influence, but so far as l am
 personally concerned I am sorry this incident has occurred If Grey has
 really had such a plan, it is clumsy
 and dangerous thing to carry Sut."
 '"Then you will not interfere? I
 want to tell you that I am not at all tafraid of Bucks. I could have killed
 him today, but I do not wish to have
 any mans blood on my hands. Yet
 if he attacks me again I may be fore
 ed to do it.''
 "That would be unpleasant he
 said And it would also be unpleas-
 ant if he killed you. The latter result
 certainly would benefit no one. IT
 it is certainly a clumsy and danger ous thing, as you say. l know this
 man. Bucks, and I shall have a talk
 with him.''
 I felt easier at his promise. I re-
 peat that I was not at all afread or
 Bucks, but to be involved m a com
 mon street encounter snnacked or par
 barism, and was repugnant to me III
 the last degree.
 Then I owe you thanks" I said
 ''I was quite sure I should not make
 this request of you in vain.' | He took his cigar out or h1S mouth
 and looked at me.
 s'It's funny world, isn't it, MT.
 Clarke?" he said. i've seen strange i things. and I am likely to see others equally or more strange happen, too" | 7 To third person his remark might have seemed irrelevant or enigmatic, l but my fears were aroused again, and that little shiver passed over me once l more. Yet I pretended not to notice l their seeming inconseQuence. 'So it is,'' I replied. ''I quote to
 you that very ancient saying, Truth | is stranger than fiction
 1 He laughed not unpleasantly, and | repeating my assurance of gratitude
 left him, still smoking his cigar, and 1 looking with expressionless eyes at l the wall on the other side of the room. I will admit that I was troubled after | left Harrison, far more by his aDnar- ent shot in the dark than by anything
 that Bucks might do Yet he could not really know anything about that blank chapter in my life. and if he guessed something he could never prove it. | Alicia and I alone held that secret, and neither fire nor steel could make either | tell. My courage came back, and even l if Harrison guessed anything I should challenge his power to make others be-
 lieve it.
 The Bucks affair brought me great
 notoriety. which did not like. Bucks himself was compelled to remain in | bed several days-his vocal cords were strained the doctors said. and I could
 well believe it. Meanwhile the news
 papers came in from all parts of the
 State with lurid accounts of the affair,
 and did not wholly blame them, as | an encounter between two members of
 the Legislature ill the street. with a
 pistol ball flying. is certainly legiti- | mate food for sensation. Yet the &C., | counts were highly colored. and. in
 many. instances, exaggerated beyond recognition
 l I secretly feared the wrath of Aunt
 Jane and Uncle Paul. I had built up
 a new character with them. and now it
 was to be shattered by a miserable street. fight. The letter from them i quickly came. and it was written by
 Aunt Jane. I take from it the trend | of what she wrote:
 My Dear Nephew:
 You Uncle Paul and I have care- fully considered what you did in the l matter of the man Bucks. We have read many accounts in the newspapers
 and we have also had reports from | friends. Now we have come to the conclusion that being a man you could not have acted otherwise than as 1 man. We believe in soft speech and l 1ong-suffering temper, but when one is l put upon too hardly he must rise up and smite. It was thus that the chil- dren of Israel did, under the guidance l of God. Therefore we are glad you did l demolish the man Bucks for the time 1 being, and we remain without alarm | feeling assured that if the necessity 1 should arise you can do the same to 1 him again."
 I smiled when I read it, and yet l moisture came into my eyes. Truly my | character was re-est ablished with them | and in the most solid manner when | they sustained me in an affair that
 might we'll bear a false interpreta l tiOn with such PurltanS. But l felt i great relief.
 The matter was quickly settled so far as the law went. Bucks, as soon as he was able, appeared in the police court and paid a fine, it having been proved that he had provoked the quar- rel and had fired the shot. There was l talk of having him expelled from the House, but it never came to a head, and in about ten days he took his seat again.
 l I was at my desk when Bucks ar rived, reading the morning paper from Louisville, but the stir that his com ing created caused me to look up, and I met his eyes. I saw there no sign of any future treaty of friendship be- tween us, The mountain man had been ignominiously beaten and dis graoed in a contest of physical prow- ess, and his pride had been hurt, where it could be hurt most. His county WOulQ De D1lGu WlIH lIlC tale Ol HIS uc. feat, and half his prestige, if not all,
 would be gone.
 met his lowering glance with a fix ed gaze, and presently he turned his eyes away. He had only brute strength and courage and I believed him to be cowed. Moreover, felt sure
 that he would not trouble me again, because I had faith both in Harrison's words and Harrison's power. The ear ly signs confirmed my belief. Bucks was very quiet throughout the session,
 and left promptly at adournment. Nor did he renew his attacks upon me. Yet I felt that the atmosphere all around me was surcharged.
 In this situation, already tense and strained in many ways, a new factor suddenly appeared, introducing an orn- inOus complication. One winter af-
 ternoon during an idle and apathetic session I felt a sudden stir in the House. one of those movements arous- ed by an unexpected interest but I was absorbed just then in a letter from Aunt Jane and I did not raise my head. As I read on Harrison stroll led from his desk across the House and sat down beside me in Pedens vacant seat.
 "Why don't you look up?" he asked, in his usual careless, half -bantering tOna "Soroathincr inn