The Rice belt journal. (Welsh, Calcasieu Parish, La.) 1900-19??, 1910-02-11

shoot unless we have to. Now, when
/ say go, jump for the OPEN"
He limped a little from the cramp'
ing Of his legs, but 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 beefsteak two miles thick
if l 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 bang and the
sailor landed on me with one leap.
went down with a thump and crack
of my head on the floor that sickened
me. The gun was under my legs, and
/ remember that my dazed wits tried
to devise means for getting hold of 1t.
AS my senses gradually came round
was aware of a great conflict about me
and over me. Gillespie was engaged
in a hand-to-hand struggle with the
sailor and the cabin shook with their
strife. The table went down with q
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. I felt a slight nausea
from the smash my head had got, but
1 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
monstrous, swaying figure.
Ny stomach was giving a better &C
count Of itself, and l got to my knees
and then to my feet. / was within
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 I heard the
dull impact of Gillespie's fist In the
brutes face. AS the sailor went down
| threw myself full length upon him !;
but for the moment at least he was
out of business, and before had sat
isffed myself that l had firmly grasped
him, Gillespie, blowing hard, was
kneeling beside me, with a rope in his
hands.
81 think" he painted, II 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 III see
what l can do for them. You oughtn't
to have cut that rope, my boy. You
might have known that we were going
to need it. My father taught me in
my youth never to cut string.
want the pirates knife for a souvenir
/ kicked it out of his hand when YOU
went bumpety-bumpety. How's your
head?"
Il still have it. Let's get you out
side and have look at you. You think
he didn't land with the knife?"
mot bit of it. He nearly squeezed
the life out of me two or three times
though. What's that"
HE gave me jab with his stickel
when he made that flying leap and
guess I'm scratched"
Gillespie opened my shirt and dis
closed scratch across my ribs down
ward from the left collar bone. The
first jab had struck the bone, but the
subsequent slash had left a nasty rec
line.
Gillespie swore softly in the strange
| phrases that he affected while hi
tended my injury. My head ached ant
the nausea came back occasionally.
] sat down in the grass while Gillespie