The Marietta journal. (Marietta, Ga.) 1918-1944, 1920-01-30
What Got Ben's Goat
A Saturday Night Story by John L.
sHerring in Triton Gazette

q jumper station. The air IN the Smok-
er was hazy and hot, with the sur
plus heat common to steamed cars.
Ben was sitting on the end of the long
seat next the window, and his face
lighted up reminiscently:
"A two-story building stood thirty
years ago where that brick building
IS now" he SAL. "The lower floor
was used for a commissary and gen
eral merchandise store, and 1 slept in
z room upstairs. 1t was a new place
then and sorter wild and l didn't like
very much to sleep up there by my
SELL as was only just turned eigh-
Teen. Old man Jones had a bunch of
goats that wandered all over the
place, lived on briars and salmon cans
and were always where they were not
wanted.
One Saturday night-it was the
nlght after pay day and we were
open until midnight as usual had
q good lot of money on hand and at
supper asked my brother to sleep
with ME, as all the still hands knew
ABOUT the money we took in and /
was afraid some of them knew |
Kept 1t with me. There were more
than hundred negroes working for
us and other firms here and white
men were few. There was some law
lessness, but not as much as one
would think. Still, l was uneasy.
When l finally closed up, it was
dark and raining little. There was
a staircase came down inside the
store and another that went up out
side the building. | closed and lock-
ed the store, gave my bulldog revolt
yer Suppose it got it's name from it's
bark instead of its bite, but it looked
like haven of safety to me) a care
full looking over, and with my hand
on the handle in my hip pocket, start
ed up the outside staircase.
There was a door at the foot of
the stairs, and another at the top
landing. l shut the bottom door
behind me, and it fastened with a
spring lock. Then l started up the
stairs.
~ heard something that sounded
like a step ahead of me. My hair
rose. stood still and listened; yes,
it was step, and to my horror, more
than one! They had waylaid me in
this dark place, and as l went up the
steps would knock me down and rob
me. The door behind me was locked,
and before I could open it and get
out, they would be on me! I prayed
a little; sort Of jerky prayer.
There were those steps again, many
of them! There must be a dozen
of them. drew my trusty bulldog
and cooked it. The click of the lock
sounded like fire alarm bell.
Who's there?' l called.
IN o answer. But / heard 'em
move.
"'Pm armed, and if you don't
speak up, I'll shoot l said.
"Still no answer, but-the feet STIR
red, many of them. My knees knocked
together.
Who are you? You needn't try
to hide; l hear you. If you don't
answer I'll fire.
"Still no reply; but the feet shut
fed.
Scared and desperate, I called
once more in warning, and then get
ting no answer, raised the bulldog,
shut my eyes, gritted my teeth, and
blazed away.
''The thing roared like a cannon in
that close place. And then things
happened.
"a catapult hit me amidships, and
knocked me backwards down the
staircase. As / fell, three or four
things ran over me, and at the bot
tom the others joined us, until / was
mixed up with dozen frightened and
struggling animals, all as badly scared
as | was. At first, l tried to shoot
again, and then to fight back. But
even before they began to bleat, the
scent told me it was old man Jones'
goats. They had gone up the stair
case through the open door, and when
l came, went on up ahead of me.
never was as glad to smell a bunch of
goats in my life.
81 got the door open and let 'em
out, and then went upstairs and to
bed. Next morning at breakfast,
mother asked:
" Ben, what skinned your face soy
"'Got bump coming up the stairs
in the dark, said.
"But ever since l have thought
lot more of goats than I used to-"