The Camden chronicle. (Camden, Tenn.) 1890-current, 1909-10-22

wide open and we huddled In the leak
ing inn His other name was hard
to remember, go called him the
Elixir of Life.
On my third afternoon at the inn,
the fourth day Of the storm, it re-
ceived a knockout from the north
west, and the mud-plastered postman
stopped for drink on his way-four
days later-to Kalgoory. The Elixir
and contributed bob apiece for an
ancient newspaper he had about him
and settled ourselves to read. Many
a fresh Australian daily is dead loss
at a penny, but this was cheap at two
bob 1t startled us from our stagna-
ton with a thunderbolt-th murder
of Sir Robert Broadley, up at Kali
gaory, four days before; telegraphed
to the coast and printed, then brought
back to us as vital news only days
ride from where It happened. There
was no evidence of robbery except
that the assassin had cut off the little
finger of his victim, upon which he
was known to have worn a unique and
beautiful diamond ring. The people
looked upon Sir Robert as their deliv-
erer. They were frantic and promised
the criminal real American lynch
ing, spiced with aboriginal Australian
tortures, when they laid hands on
him, which was sure to be soon, for
the villain could not have got far
away. Every outlet from the noun
tains was now effectively guarded,
and a minute description was given OF
a stranger who had been seen follow
ing Sir Robert just before the deed
and since had disappeared.
My personal interest centered in the
effect 1t would have upon the pro-
posed railway, and | was bordering it
when the outer door opened again.
The storm was subsiding as rapidly
as it came, but the fellow who en-
tered had evidently been out in the
whole of 1t. He grunted a kind of sal
utation and staggered to rude bench
before the open fire, where he
dropped like dead log, calling to the
ape-faced landlord:
chi you black devil! Whisky! A
! joyful! Damn quick!"
| 1t was a fresh opening for the
! Elixir, and he was in it in an instant,
bending over the fellow and gently as
woman asking what he could do for
him.
"Ye kin mind yer own damn bust
ness!" the fellow muttered. II got
into a landslide four days ago, comm
down from Kalgoory. Lost my horse
and been clingin' by my eyelashes
ever since till the postman give me a
lift I'm a hit done, same's you'd be,
but I ask no odds from God or man
and / don't take none from such as
you. Hi, you monkey! Where's that
whisky"
Undaunted, the Elixir stood, his
soulful eyes fixed on the poor fellow
In mistaken sympathy. The half-caste
was ambling slowly across the room
with bottle and glass. The man on
the bench sat glaring with bloodshot
eyes at the Elixir Just as the inn
keeper reached him he muttered:
Didn't | tell yer to-er-- Ye lob
ster-eyed--er-"
With words still gurgling in his
throat he fell over on the bench un
conscious.
1T is better So" the Elixir said
gently stufing blanket under his
head for pillow and lifting his feet
to the bench. sleep will help him
more than that hell-fire you call whis
ky. Go heat up some of the stuff you
said was soup this noon"
The Elixir returned to the window
and ais newspaper. l watched the
unconscious face till the CLINT Of the
/ freight across it dazzled me and the
hypnosis of his steady snoring MAIDS