Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 51: what you’re looking at

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

42 My great hope, however, was placed upon Zach Peters. He had proved his good will too decisively for it to be doubted. If I could manage to meet him alone there would be a fair prospect of accomplishing something. Perhaps he was disposed to assist in bringing about such a meeting. The near future would decide. Having penetrated to what seemed a safe distance in the wood, I sat down on a large boulder, among the under- growth, to think over the situation, and formulate the best plan of procedure. ‘“ There’s nothing to do but to press ahead, and, Heaven helping me, I'll do | it.” Hands up, stranger!” As before, the danger had ap- proached me unawares from the rear. The summons was too peremptory to be disregarded, and my hands went up- ward like a flash, as I turned to confront my new danger. There it was, not a dozen paces dis- tant, in the shape of- Bill Harbridge with his Winchester leveled at me. At his side, and a little further back, stood the grinning Jim Sawyer, with his rifle — resting on his shoulder. The identity of the two mountaineers, of course, was learned afterward. To my keen disappointment, Zach Peters was invisible. * Well, my friend, you’ve got the drop,’ I replied with a cheerfulness that was anything but genuine; “ what is your pleasure? ”’ ‘“T obsarve that you’ve a barker in your hip pocket ; you may help hold up the clouds till my pardner takes charge of the same. jim!” The individual thus addressed stepped forward and deftly relieved me of my revolver. Since no Winches- ter was in sight, they took it for granted that I was unarmed, which of course was the case. | “Now you can lower your hands; who mought you be, stranger? ” I gave my right name (since it was a matter of indifference), and an- THE ARGOSY. nounced my pretended business of a mineral prospector in that section. It was plain that neither of the couple placed the least credence in the state- ment. . Harbridge, who had rested the stock of his rifle on the ground, shook his head. He was good looking, but his countenance was a hard one, and the smile that showed beneath his mustache was a sneer. “*Twon’t work, stranger; you’re ly- ing.” ‘““ Perhaps if you know who I am not, you may be able to tell who I am.” “T reckon we kin; we've heard of you; you're one of them damned news- paper men that we don’t allow in these parts.” For the moment I was thoroughly angered, and lost control of myself. “It is none of your business who | am; I have as much right in Kentucky as you, and I'll go and come as | choose; you are a couple of cowards, who first steal my only weapon and then insult me. Give me back my pistol and Pu fight you both.” “ Shall we do it?” asked the sardonic Harbridge, turning to his companion, who was on the point of accepting my suggestion, when he shook his head and growled: ‘“ What’s the use? There’s only one thing for such as him.” “And that’s the witch’s parole,” I said, aflame with rage, “ what you gave the poor fellow some months ago, with- out letting him have a chance for life. Such cowards as you only fight from behind blinds and shoot prisoners down, after taking their weapons from them.” The strange feature of the situation was that the two mountaineers did nof show the least resentment at my words. They were cool and collected, while I was beside myself with rage. The re- sponse of Jim Sawyer revealed the fact that neither of the two had any sus- picion of the part I had played in the matter of the ambush. Conn ElOOO eco