Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 49: what you’re looking at

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

40 It is at such times tHfat one is unable to note accurately the passage of the minutes. I had not thought of looking at my watch, but it seemed to me fully a third of an hour had passed since the last shot was fired at the fleeing Jake Auckland, when, as I am now con- vinced, the actual time was not half of that. Slowly and cautiously, after remov- ing my hat, [ raised my head, until my eyes were high enough to peer over the log and look out upon the wood which had been the scene of the stirring inci- dent described. Fifty feet away stood the three men close together, and apparently consult- ing. Thefr words must have been ut- tered in whispers, since not the slight- est-sound had reached me. Bill Harbridge and Jim Sawyer’s po- sitions (as I judged the men to be) may be described as dtagonal to me, since their faces were partly turned away, and neither could see me without looking over his shoulder. But Zach Peters. himself was gazing as straight as an arrow not only at the blind, but at me, and our eyes met fairly ! My head dropped as if struck by a minie ball, but the mischief had been done and was irreparable. One of that dreaded trio knew that a member of the bushwhackers was still in the blind and at their mercy. True, I might have seized the Win- chester of the dead man and made a fight, but the chances were overwhelm- ingly against me, and I determined to rely for the present upon my revolver alone. I drew it from my pocket and grasped it, ready to meet the final crisis unflinchingly. Now, for the first time, rose the mur- mur of voices, but not a word was dis- tinguishable. Then it ceased for a mo- ment, soon to be renewed, but the subtle power of my senses told me tlrat only two men were talking. Where was the third? Stealing toward me, was mv conclu- THE ARGOSY. sion and I was right, though far from suspecting the whole truth. I have remarked that Zach Peters was a master of woodcrait, and he now gave me another proof of it. Having seen him so near and in a certain position, it did not occur to me that he might approach from any other point of the compass, and therein I made another of the many mistakes committed while in the mountain re- gions of Eastern Kentucky. Peters moved around one end of the blind, doubtless with his eyes fixed ‘pon it, and when he drew near, Win- chester ready for instant use, it was as noiselessly as a Sioux Indian stealing into the camp of an enemy. I need hardly say what line of action I had fixed upon. It was to lie where I was until one of the men was directly over me, as may be said, and then drop him with a shot from my revolver. If both or either of the others was within range, I would give lightning-like at- tention to them. If not, I would grasp the dead man’s rifle and have it out as best I could. I was listening and waiting with my nerves keyed to the highest point, when I heard the softest audible rustling, such as would be made by a falling leaf, but the terror of the thing was that it came from behind me, where, it will be remembered, were the _ sloping branches which composed the blind. A hand had partly separated some of these, and through the interstices, 1m- perfectly revealed, I made out the form of a man, in a stooping posture, and peering at me. He saw he was discov- ered before I could use my weapon, and without shifting his position, he said in a hurried undertone that could not have been heard ten feet distant: - “You infarnal fool! keep your head down!” Then his withdrawal caused the leaves to close behind him and shut him from sight, and I could hear his care- less step, as he circled about on his way to his former position. ECORRIC OO® eco