The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1913-06-07
By DON MARQUIS

was to go down the railroad track past them burning warehouses till I come to the third street and then turn to my left, '"The third house from the track has got an iron picket fence fin front of ft,'' says Bud, land it's the only house in that part of town which has. Beauregard Peoples lives there. He is kin to me-
 "Yes,'' I says, land Beauregard is jest as likely as not going to take a shot at me-"
 'tHe won't shoot,'' says Bud, Eff yo' go about 1t right. Beauregard ain't going to be asleep with all this going on in town tonight. Yo' rattle on the iron gate and he'll holler to know what yo' san want.''
 elf he don't shoot frst,'' I says.
 "When he hollers yo' cry back at him yo' have found his old de0d hoss in the road. It won't hurt to ho1ler that loud, and that will make him let you within talking distance
 'tHis old dead Aoss?'' / "Yo' don't need to know what that is He will.'' And then Bud told me enough of the signs and words to say and things to do to keep Beauregard from shooting-he said he reckoned L as well go the hull hog. Beauregard, he says, belongs to them riders too.
 I made a long half circle around them burning buildings, keeping in the dark, fur people was coming out in punches, now that it was all over with, watching them fires burning and talk ing excited and saying the riders should be fo11ered-onIy not follering.
 I found the house Bud meant, and they was a light in the second story window. rattled on the gate and aft CT a lot of talk told Beauregard what wanted.
 Come on in,' he says.
 He shut the door behind us and light ed a lamp agin- And we looked each other over. He was a scrawny little feIler, with little gray eyes set near together and some sandy complected whiskers on his chin. told him about Bud and what his fix was. He said:
 ''I don't see how on airth I kin do it. My wife's jest had a baby. Do yo' hear thatT'
 And did hear, a. sound like kittens moving, somewheres- upstairs.
 E'Yes," I says, you better stay with it. Lend nie a rig of some sort and I'll take Bud hone.''-z
 So we went out to Beauregard's sta ble with 9 lantern and hitched up one of his bosses to a light road wagon. He went into the house and come back agin with mattress fur Bud to lie on and a part of bottle of whisky, and I drove back to that lumber pile. guess I nearly Killed Bud getting him into there. But he wasn't bleeding much from. his. hip-it was his arm was giving him fits
 We went slow, and the dawn broke with US four miles out of town. It was broad daylight and early morning noises stirring eyerywheres when we drove up in front of an old farmhouse, with big brick chfmbleys built on the outside of it, couple of miles farther on.
 As drove into the yard barehead- ed old n1gger with game leg throwed down an armful of wood he was gath ering and went limping up to the ve- randa as fast as he could. He baw1ed out:
 sOh, Marse wi1lyum! Oh, Miss Lucy! Dey've brung him home! Dar hei'
 A little, bright, black eyed old lady like a wren comes running out of the house and chirps:
 "Oh, Bud! Oh, my honey boy! Is he dead?"
 'I reckon not, Miss Lucy" says Bud, raising himself up on the mattress as she runs up to the wagon, and trying to act like everything was all joke. She was jest high enough to kiss him over the edge of the wagon box. A worried looking old gentleman come out the dooA, seen Bud and his mother kissing each other, and then says to the old nigger man:
 ''Take the bay mare quick and go for pr. Potter, George" Then he comes to the wagon and says:
 ''So they got yo', Bud? You would go night riding like a rowdy and a thug! Are yo' much hurt?''
 He said it easy and gentle, more than mad. But Bud, he flushed up, pale as he was, and didn't answer his dad direct. He turned to his mother and said:
 Miss Lucy, dear, it would "a done yo' heart good to see the way them trust warehouses blazed upi''
 And the old lady, smiling and crying both to oncet, says, God bless her brave boy"' But the old gentleman looked mighty serious, and his worry settled into a frown between his eyes, and he turns to me and says:
 "Yo' must pardon us, sir, fo' neglect ing to thank yo' sooner.'' I told him that would be all right, fur him not to worry none And him and me and Mandy, which was the nigger cook, got Bud into the house and into his bed. And after quite a while George gets back witA Dr. Porter
 He sets Buds arm and he locates the bullet in him, and he says he guesses he'll do in a few weeks if nothing like blood poisoning nor gangrene nor in f1ammation sets in
 eat my breakfast with the old gentleman, and then I took a sleep until time fur dinner. They wouldn't hear of me leaving that night I fully