Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

ON THE TRAIL Harrow School at Cumberland Gap, and the State College of Kentucky at Lexington. At the last institution some of the highest honors have been taken by young men from the mountains. The actual fighting men, however, belong to the lower strata of mountain society, many of them being unable to read, but ready to hunt men to the death, so long as the employer is prompt in paying the wages of one dol- lar a day and “ found,” with an occa- sional present of a suit of clothes for extra good work in killing his fellow beings. CHAPTER VI. OH, GENTLE WOMAN. ONE of the strangest experiences of my life, and one that will always remain vivid in my memory, was that evening spent in the mountaineer home in Ken- tucky. While the wife sat silently sewing by the light of a candle on the table, taking no part in the conversation, Tom Auck- land and Zach Peters smoked their corncob pipes and I my cigars, talking as 1f we were lifelong friends, met in the most social sort of a reunion. The mountaineers especially were like two brothers, laughing and joking with each other as they recalled the stir- ring scenes in which they had been active, and the striking fact came out that they had fought on the same side in the French-Eversole feud. Un- questionably both had committed deeds during that fearful vendetta, which, while they would have been proud to dwell upon if alone, they hesitated to refer to in my presence. And now they were the deadliest of enemies, who would eagerly begin shooting at each other on the first op- portunity. Undoubtedly, each was working for wages promptly paid by the leaders of the factions. The situation was so unique and so tempting that I determined to appeal OF A MYSTERY. 19 to their manliness and common sense to end it, at least as far as they were concerned, and I was awaiting the fit- ting opportunity to do so, when a start- ling and unlooked for interruption took place. : | A heavy footstep was heard on the two pieces of planking which served for a porch, the latchstring was twitched, and the door swung inward. A bony youth, with freckled face and immature features, stepped across the threshold. He was attired much the same as the two men, in slouch hat, coarse coat and trousers that were tucked into the tops of his big cowhide boots. He was very tall and thin, and the instant my eyes rested on him, I knew he was Jake Auckland, son of my host and hostess. The moment he closed the door, he glanced wonderingly at me, and then at Peters, who was looking steadily at him. The next second he uttered an oath and leveled his Winchester at my prisoner. . “ Zach Peters! Damn you! I’ve got you now!” and he pulled the trigger. Fortunately I had noted the ven- omous gleam in the eyes of the youth, and suspected what was coming. He stood so near me that [ had only to leap to my feet and shove the muzzle of his weapon aside, with the result that the bullet was buried in the logs behind the intended victim. “ None of that!” I commanded, still grasping the gun barrel with my left hand and shoving my revolver into his face, all aflame with passion; “ he’s my prisoner, and if you shoot him you’re a dead man! ” “Who are you?” he demanded, wrenching his rifle free; “ stand out of the way, or I'll let daylight through you!” “Not much you won't, my young friend! I’ve got you dead to rights! ” Quickly as all this took place, the . seconds had been wonderfully im- proved by Zach Peters. With a pan- ther-like bound, he snatched up his ow Winchester, which I trad been cout