Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 22: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ON THE TRAIL OF A MYSTERY. thing, and you won't be the first that stayed here.” “Do you know anything about a newspaper man named Dick Montgom- ery?” I asked, forgetting my caution in my sudden interest. It was an unfortunate question, for it not only gave me away, but put the prisoner on his guard. Instantly he became as tuncommunicative as a clam. “Don’t know nothin’ ’bout him; never heerd of such a chap.” “Well, there’s no use of our wasting time here,” I replied indifferently, and then raising my voice [ called: “T say, Tom! I’ve got your man! Come over here and tell me what to do with him.” The distance was so slight that my voice readily reached the mountaineer, and immediately I heard the Hercules threshing through the wood and under- growth. Zach Peters calmly faced about in the direction of the noise and deliberately folded his arms. ‘Tom’s got me,” he remarked as coolly as if referring to the weather. “What do you mean? Do you im- agine he intends to shoot you? ”’ “Tn course; that’s what I’d’ve done with him if I had the chance, and what he'll do with me; that’s the style of doing business in the Kentucky moun- tains.” I was glad to receive this notice, and it was a most fortunate thing for Zach Peters himself: I assumed position be- tween him and the approaching moun- taineer, who appeared a few minutes later. He was quick to see the tall, erect figure, partly screened by my own form, and abruptly halted, amazed. “Why, he’s alive!” he fairly gasped. “Of course; why shouldn’t he be? He surrendered to me.” Auckland stood for a few moments absolutely speechless. The fact that I had allowed an enemy to make submis- sion and had spared his life was beyond the mountaineer’s comprehension. Then 13 I saw him attempting in an awkward way to manipulate his Winchester, so as to bring it to bear on Peters, but the relative positions of the three were such, and his own weakness so marked that I was in as much danger as Zach Peters. “T say, pard, jest stand a little to the left,” said Tom pleasantly; “only a little way and [’ll fix things.” ‘No, you won’t; he’s my prisoner, and I shall dispose of him as I see fit; on the first attempt to harm him, [ shall shoot you! ”’ Tom ceased his clumsy essays and stared at me with a blank wonderment that was laughable. Why it was I pro- . tected the man in my power was be- yond his comprehension, though I sus- pect he found a partial explanation in the belief that, like the American In- dians, I had reserved him for a fate far more dreadful than sudden death. The situation was becoming strained, when I remarked: ‘Your house isn’t far off, and your arm needs looking after; let’s go there, taking this man with us as a prisoner.” The proposition suited Auckland, and it was easily carried out. He took the lead, with the captive following, and I bringing up the rear. In this way | could keep a close watch of him and de- feat any attempt at escape, though I am not certain, had he made a break, that ] should have interfered, for it was plain that unpleasant complications were at hand with the members of Auckland's family, who were certain to share his sentiments with him. It was an impressive fact that neither of my companions seemed to give a thought to Dick Warman, the victim of this savage encounter. Somewhere in the vicinity lay the form of the man, stark and stiffening in the gloom of the mountain wilderness, another victim to one of the most senseless feuds that ever disgraced a sovereign State of the American Union. J h b h nassé within a few paces of he QUST ) Ke