Macon beacon. [volume] (Macon, Miss.) 1859-1995, 1910-01-28

shoot unless we have to. Now, when
l say go, jump for the open"
He Iimped a little from the cramp-
ing Of his legs, out crossed over to me
cheerfully enough. His white trOus-
ers were much the worse for contact
with the cabin floor, and his shirt
hung from his shoulders in ribbons.
My stomach bids me haste; I'm 60
ing to eat a beefsteak two miles thick
if | ever get back to New York. Are
you waiting?"
We were about to spring through
the outer door, when the door at the
rear flew open with a bang and the
sailor landed on me with one leap. l
went down with a thump and a crack
Of my head on the foor that sickened
me. The gun was under my legs, n
| remember that my daZed wits tried
to devise ear for getting hold Of it.
AS my senses gradually came round L
was aware of a great conflict about me
and over me. Gillespie was engaged
in a h~and-to-hand struggle with the
sailor and the cabin shook with their
strife. The table went down with a
crash, and Gillespie seemed to be
having the best of it; then the Italian
was afOot again, and the clenched
swaying figures crashed against the
trunk at the farther end of the room.
And there they fought in silence, save
for the scraping Of their feet on the
puncheon floor. | felt a slight nausea
from the smash my head a got, u
l began crawling across the floor to-
ward the struggling men. 1t was grow
ing dark, and they were knit together
against the cabin wall like a single
mOnstTOus, swaying figure.
My stomach was giving a better &C
count Of itself, and l got to my knees
and then to my feet. | was within a
yard of the wavering shadow and could
distinguish Gillespie by his white
trousers as he wrenched free and flung
the Italian away from him; and in
that instant of freedom | heard the
dull impact of Gillespie's fist in the
brute's face. AS the sailor went down
l threw myself full length upon him;
but for the moment at least he was
out of business, and before l had sat
isfied myself that l had firmly grasped
him, Gillespie, blowing hard, was
kneeling beside me, with a rope in his
hands,.
4 think" he painted, Il should like
champignon sauce with that steak,
Donovan. And should like my pota-
toes lyOnnaise-the pungent onion is a
squirting tonic. That will do, thanks, for
the arms. Get off his legs and I'll see
what l can do for them. You oughtn't
to have u that rope, my boy. You
might have known that we were going
10 need it. My father taught me in
my youth never to cut a string. 1
want the pirates knife for a souvenir.
| kicked it out of his hand her you
went bumpety-bumpety. How's your
head?"
Il still have it. Let's get you out
side and have a look at you. You think
he didn't land with the knife?"
Not a bit of it. He nearly squeezed
h life out Of me two or three times,
though. What's that?"
HE ave me a jab with his sticker
when he made that flying leap and
guess I'm scratched"
Gillespie opened my shirt and dis
closed a scratch cross my ribs down
ward from the left collar bone. The
first jab had struck the bone, but the
subsequent slash had left a nasty red
line.
Gillespie swore softly in the strange
phrases that he affected while he
tended my injury. My head ached and
the nausea came back occasionally. l
sat down in the grass while Gillespie