The Blackfoot optimist. [volume] (Blackfoot, Idaho) 1907-1918, 1913-10-30

of thousands of toes in Christendom,
the one he had hung his salvation
upon had proven weaker than a reed.
What cruel jest Of Fate was this? II
Fate had wished to break toe why
had she not selected, out Of all the bill
lions at her disposal, that Of some
other athlete than Culver Covington-
even his own.
J. Wallingford Speed started sud.
denly and paled. He had remembered
that no one could force a crippled man
to run.
by Jove." he exclaimed, "1'll do it,"
He crossed quickly to the bunk
house door and looked in. The room
was empty. The supper-bell pealed
out. and he heard the cow-men answer
it. Now was the appointed moment;
he might have no other. With cat-like
tread he slipped into the sleeping.
quarters. returning in moment with
revolver. He stared thankfully at
the weapon-better this than dishonor.
why didn't l think of it before?
It's perfectly simple. I'll accidentally
shoot myself-in the foot!"
But even as he gazed at the gun he
saw that the muzzle was as large as
q gopher-hole. A bullet of that size
would sink ship, he meditated in a
panic, and as for his foot--what fright.
full execution 1t would work! Butt
were better to lose foot than q foot
race. under present conditions, 80 he
began to unlace his shoe. Then real
izing the value Of circumstantial evil
dence. he paused. No! His disability
must bear all the earmarks of an acct.
dent He must guess the location Of
his smallest and least Important toe,
and trust the rest to his marksman.
ship. Visions of blood-poisoning be-
set him. and when he pressed the
muzzle against the point of his shoe
his hand shook with such palsy that
no feared he might miss. He steeled
himself with the thought that other
men had snu1fed out life itself in this
manner, then sat down upon the floor
and cooked the weapon a second time.
He wondered If the shock might, by
any chance, numb him into uncon-
sciousness. If so. he might bleed to
death before assistance arrived. But
he had nothing to do with that. The
only question was, which foot. He re-
garded them both tenderly. They
were nice feet, and had done him
many favors. He loved every toe;
they were almost like innocent chill
dren. 1t was dastardly deed to take
advantage of them thus, but-he ad-
vanced the revolver until 1t pressed
firmly against the outside of his left
foot. then closed his eyes, and called
upon his courage. There came .
great roaring in his ears.
How long he sat thus waiting for
the explosion he did not know, but
he opened his eyes at length to find
the foot still intact, and the muzzle
Of the weapon pointing directly at his
instep. He altered his aim hurriedly,
when, without warning of any sort. a
mans figure appeared silhouetted
against the window.
The figure dropped noiselessly to
the floor inside the room, and cried, in
. strange voice:
Lock those doors! Quick!"
Finding that 1t was no hallucination,
Speed rose, calling out:
who are you?"
"Sh-h-h!" The stranger darted
across the room and bolted both
doors, while the other felt q chill of
apprehension at these sinister precau-
lions. He grasped his revolver firmly
while his heart thumped. The fellows
appearance was anything but reassur-
ing: he was swarthy and sun Drowned,
his clothes were ragged. his overalls
were patched; instead of a coat, he
wore q loosely tapping vest over 4
black sateen shirt. long since rusted
out to q nondescript brown.
1--WE been trying to get to you for .
week." announced the mysterious Wis
itor hoarsely.
"W.what do you want? Who arc
you?"
I'm Skinner. cook for the Cent
pede."