Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 63: what you’re looking at

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

54 Harbridge and Sawyer advocated ' shooting the prisoner at once and end- ing the bother, but it so happened that the last copy of The Ptoneer, which Zach Peters had seen, contained a lot of terrific abuse of himself, mentioned by name. He was so incensed that he would consent to nothing less than the punishment’ named—a fate which he swore should be that of every news- paper man upon whom he could lay hands. Accordingly, the captive was helped to the cabin of Widow Wickliffe, not far off, and placed in charge of her and her daughter. {t has been shown that Kentucky contained no more merciless partisans of the respective feuds than the women, and none was bitterer in her hatred than the widow, who, it will be admitted, had good grounds for her animosity. The agreement with Widow Wick- liffe was that she was to take care of the newspaper man until he recovered sufficiently to play the important role assigned to him. There seemed little danger of his running away, hobbled as he was by his severe lameness, but his captors took no chances, and the cabin was kept under almost continuous sur- veillance. Dick’s situation was most peculiar. He suffered greatly from his injury, and naturally ought to have been anx- ious to get well, but his anxiety was tempered by the knowledge that his 1ecovery meant a cruel death. Ac- cordingly, he affected a greater lame- ness than was the fact, well aware, how- ever, that there was a point beyond which the pretense could not be car- ried. Several guarded “ soundings ” of the widow convinced him that it was use- less to appeal to her pity or to attempt to bribe her. She was as immovable as rock. Timid advances to the daughter showed that while she might be well disposed, she dared not take the first step through dread of her parent and the mountaineers, who did not dis- THE ARGOSY. criminate in their punishments between the sexes. As illustrating the rigidity of the sur- veillance, Dick was compelled to sleep on the upper floor, while the women made their couch below stairs, in front of the door. Not a day passed on which some of the men did not call to learn how he was getting on, and the mur- mur of voices often told him that con- sultations were held at night. Could he have found some way of communi- cating with the outside world, he would quickly have brought friends to his res- cue, but no such way presented itself. Dick had been a prisoner about two weeks, when, as he lay awake one night, the scheme of pretending he was in- sane flashed upon him. It was really caused by something he had learned from a conversation between the widow and her daughter. Zach Peters had an aged mother who had been demented ever since his boy- hood. He was one of the most super- stitious of men, and looked with special awe upon those whose brains were askew. “It looked as if it would prove a howling success,” said Dick, “for I worked it artistically. I began by little eccentricities of words and manner, which at first were not understood by the women, but by and by they laid them to the cause I intended. “That night, when I noticed talking down stairs, I crept noiselessly to the head of the ladder and listened. [ rec- ognized the voice of Peters, and heard him declare in commenting on what they told him that I was crazy, and that he would come around on the morrow and have a look at me. [ was thrilled with the hope that they would have to wait till I got well before giving me the witch’s parole, though I wasn’t abso- lutely sure whether he referred to my brain or body.” When Zach Peters presented himself on the morrow, the prisoner was ready for him. With a whoop, he leaped into the middle of the floor, and with the ECOMUE DOO Ss eco