The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1915-08-19

meant to strike. Ii he were recog-
nixed, well-he shrugged his shoulders.
! But as he stood on the outside, wip-
ing the perspiratien from his forehead,
for the ride had been warm, he heard
voices within. They were loud and
angry voices. It occurred to him that
by remaining where he was he might
gain more information than by hur-
rying in.
I've done been pour executioner for
twenty years." complained voice,
which Samson at once recognized as
that of Aaron Hollis, the most trusted
of Purvy's personal guards. II hain't
never laid down on we yet. Me an Jim
Asberry killed old Henry South. We
laid fer his boy. an would a got him
eff you'd only said Their word. I went
inter Hixon an killed Tam'rack Spicer,
with soldiers all round me. There
hain't nd other damn fool in these
mountings would "a took such a long
chance es tibet. I'm tired of It.
They're a-goin' ter git me, an l wants
ter leave, an you won't come clean
with the price of a railroad ticket to
Oklahoma. Now, damn yore stingy
soul, gifts that ticket OF gifts you'll"
Aaron, you can't scare me into doin'
nothin' amt amin to do The old
baron OF the vendetta spoke in a cold,
stoical voice. II tell ye / amt quite
through with We yet. In due an proper
time I'll see that We get yer ticket"
Then he added, with conciliating soft
ness: We've been friends a long
while. Let's talk this thing over be-
fore we fall out"
Thar haint nothin' to talk over"
stormed Aaron. "Ye're jest tryin' ter
kill time till the boys gifts hyar and
then reckon ye lows ter have me kilt
like yer've had me kill them others.
Hit amt no use. I've done sent 'em
away. When they gifts back hyar,
either you'll be In hell, or I'll be on my
way outen the mountings."
Samson stood rigid. Here was the
confession Of one murderer, with no
denial from the other. The truce was
off, Why should he walt? Cataracts
seemed to thunder In his brain. and
yet he stood there, his hand in his coat
pocket, clutching the grip of a maya
zine pistol Samson South the old, and
Samson South the new were writing
in the life-and-death grapple OF two
codes. Then, before decision came,
he heard a sharp report inside. and
the heavy fall of a body to the eoor'
A wildly excited figure came plunS'
ing through the door, and Samson's
left hand swept out and seized its
shoulder in q sudden wise grip.
do you know me?" he inquired. as
the mountaineer pulled away and
crouched back with startled surprise
and vicious frenzy.
NO damn ye! Git outen my road!"
Aaron thrust his cooked rifle close
against the strangers face. From
its muzzle came the acrid stencil OF
freshly burned powder. Cit outen my
'road afore / kills YET"
my name is Samson South"
Before the astounded finger on the
trigger could be crooked, Samson's
pistol spoke from the pocket, and, as
though in echo, the rife blazed, a little
too late and q shade too high, over his
head, as the dead mans arms went up.
Except for those two reports there
was no sound. Samson stood still, an
ticipating an uproar of alarm. Now
he should doubtless have to pay with
his life for both the deaths, which
would inevitably and logically b at
tributed to his agency. But, strangely
enough no clamor arose. The shot In
side had been muffied. and those out
side. broken by the intervening store,
did not arouse the house. Purvy's
bodyguard had been sent away by Hol-
lis on false alarm. Only the women
folks" and children remained indoors,
and they were drowning with a piano
any sounds that might have come from
without.
Now Samson South stood looking
down, uninterrupted, on what had been
Aaron Hollis as 1t lay motionless at
his feet. There was powder-burned
hole In the butternut shirt, and only
slender thread Of blood trickled into
the dirt-grimed cracks between the
planks.
Samson turned to the darkened door
way. Inside was emptiness. except for
the other body, which had crumpled
forward and face down across the
counter. A glance showed that Jesse
Purvy would no more fight back the
coming Of death. He was quite un.
armed
Samson paused only for a momen-
tary survey. His score was clean. He
would not again have to agonize over
the dilemma Of old ethics and new.
Tomorrow the word would spread like
wildfire along Misery and Crippleshin
that Samson South was back and that
his coming had been signalized by
these two deaths. The fact that he
was responsible for only one-and that
in self-defense-would not matter.
They would prefer to believe that he
had invaded the store and killed Purvy
and that Hollis had fallen in his mas
ters defense at the threshold. Sam
son went out, still meeting no one, and
continued his Journey.
Dusk was falling when he hitched
his horse in clump Of timber, and,
lifting his saddlebags, began climbing
to a cabin that sat back in thicketed
cove. He was now well .ithin South