The Clio messenger. (Clio, Mich.) 1907-current, 1919-02-13

hill a few steps and stopped and
answering whinny far down the dusty
road and then her hoofs as she gall
loped toward me. She came within n
few feet of me and stood snoring. i
caught and mounted her and rode to
the nearest house for help. On the
way / saw why she had stopI ed. A
number of horses were feeding on the
roadside near the log house where An.
drew Champion lived. Andrew had
just unloaded some hay and was back
ing out of his barn. / hitched my
filly and jumped on the rack saying:
Drive up the road as quick as you
can. man has been murdered"
What fearful word it was that l
had spoken! What panic il made in
the little dooryard The man gasped
and jerked the reins and shouted to
his horses and began swearing. The
woman uttered little scream and the
children ran crying to her side.
The physical facts which are further
related to this tragedy are of little
moment to me now. The stranger was
dead and we took his body to our home
and my uncle set out for the constable.
Over and over again that night told
the story of the shooting. We went to
the scene of the tragedy with lanterns
and fenced it off and put some men
on guard there.
In the morning they found the rob-
ber's footprints in the damp dirt Of
the road and measured them. The
whole countryside was afire with ex-
element and searching the woods ald
fields for the highwayman.
The stranger was buried. There was
nothing upon him to indicate his name
or residence. Weeks passed with no
news of the man who had slain him
had told of the gun with a piece of
wood broken out of it's stock, but no
one knew of any such weapon in or
near Lickitysplit.
One day Uncle Peabody and / drove
up to Grimshaw's to make q payment
of money. ] remember it was gold
and silver which we carried in a little
sack. j asked where Amos was and
Mrs. Grimshaw-a timid, tired-loOking,
bony little woman who was never seen
outside of her own house--said that
he was working out on the farm Of a
Mr.. Beekman near Plattsburg. He had
gone over on the stage kne IN June
to hire out for the haying. observed
that my uncle looked very thoughtful
as we rode back home and had little
to say.
"You never had any idee who that
robber was, did ye?" he asked by and
by.
"No-I could not see plain--it wal
so dusk" l said.
The swift words, "Your money 81
your life," came out of my memory
and rang in 1t. I felt its likeness t.
the scolding demands of Mr.. Grim
shaw, who was forever saying in eff
feet:
"Your money or your homer
That was like demanding our lives
because we couldn't live without oul
home. Our all was in it. Mr.. Grim
shaw's gun was the power he had ovel
us, and what a terrible weapon i
vast / credit him with never realiz
ing how terrible.
We came to the sandhills and ther
Uncle Peabody broke the silence b!
saying:
II wouldn't give fifty cents for al
much o. this land as a bird could fl,
around in a day."
Then for long time / heard onl,
the sound of feet and wheels mufflet
in the sand, while my uncle sat look
ing thoughtfully at the siding. WheI
I spoke to him he seemed not to heal
me.
Before we reached home / knew
what was in his mind, but neithe
dared speak of it.
People came from Canton and al
the neighboring villages to see and tall
with me, and among them were th'
Dunkelbergs. Unfounded tales of m!
bravery had gone abroad.
Sally seemed to be very glad to SCI
me. We walked down to the brool
and up into the maple grove and bacl
through the meadows.