The Pensacola journal. (Pensacola, Fla.) 1898-1985, 1911-12-03


steer, recognizing another enemy,
glared at him for one threatening sec
ond. The sight of its statue-like pose,
of the rigid tail held out stiff1y from
the spine, of the strings of froth fall
ing from the mouth, brought forth
screams Of terror for the officer from
the women gathered at the second
story windows. Even the Sergeant
yelled a caution down the block, al
though he realized it would be futile.
For just one instant the steer held
its pose. Policeman Farrell was
within twenty-five feet of him and
suddenly halted, throwing up the arm
in which he held his revolver. Even
as he did so, the steers head dropped
for the charge, its tail rose high above
its back and the muscles of it's tanks
frightened, as it prepared to plunge for
ward.
But the leap was never taken. Po-
nceman Farrell had brought his re-
volver forward at the end of his ex-
tended arm in the manner of target
shooting, taught him in the police gall
lery. The wild below which marked
the steers impulse to charge was min
gled with the sharp crack of smokeless
powder from the officers .38. And with
just enough force in its contracting
muscles to hurl its huge bulk forward,
a limp mass, upon its nose, the steer
dropped, the bullet hole almost imper-
ceptible in the long hair of it's fore
head. Then the PROSTATE bulk gave
one moaning sigh, and, with a last
stiffening of the mud-stained limbs,
gasped out it's life.
Hardly had the echo of the shot died
away, when the carcass was sur
rounded by an eager crowd, the men
explaining why they had run, and
those attracted by the report from
around corners demanding shrilly
what had happened. The girls from
the garment-working factories Of the
neighborhood swarmed out, in a de-
lighted sense Of half-terror, and looked
admiringly at Policeman Farrell, who,
perfectly unconcerned, but with a note
of complacence in his voice, explained
how he had first seen the steer when
two blocks away.
II saw him take a poke at you," he
remarked as he slipped another cart
ridge into his revolver, nodding his
head at the man who had been the
steers first object of attack, land it's
a good thing he wasn't one of those
short-horned Herefords we've been
having shipped here lately. He'd have
gone through that door right after
you. sure. His horn stopped him"
The man twirled his mustache in
this reflected glory and commenced
giving voluble descriptions of his ex-
perience. But Farrell seeing that two
mounted emissaries from the stock
yards were already on hand, turned
and walked toward the station.
He made his report on the occur
renee, smiling as the Sergeant compli-
mented him. His superior officer even
clumsily tried to explain his own nom
appearance on the scene.
Its perhaps a good thing" said
Farrell, consolingly; 1T would have
been, perhaps, natural for you, If you'd
had your gun, to fire at him when he
charged that time. An it's mighty
hard to stop big brute like that with
a shot in the side. 1t might just have
made him mad, and he might have
gone OF on a tear all through the
district"
And the Sergeant, well pleased with
this partial excuse for his not having
his weapon always at hand as the rules
required, merely got his revolver from
the Lieutenant's locker at the earliest
possible moment and turned in com
mandatory report of FarrelPs deed.
It's glad I am TO see this man has
somethin' in him. unused Captain
Hagerty that evening. as he read the
report, the while passing hand over