Short Story.

Lake Wakatip Mail, Issue 2280, 29 September 1899, Page 6

Short Story.

Deacon Hardwicke's Revenge. His Two Experiences w ,tli a Stage Robber. (By Wm. M. Tisdale.) I first met the deacon under rather add circumstances. A persistent touch of rheumatism under my left shoulder, which defied liniments and plasters, sent me to the celebrated Hot Springs, seven mih'S north of Boomopolis, Southern California. The long, low, narrow bath-house was not an inviting place. The place was full of steam, through which I caught glimpses of muscular men in their shirt sleeves, the sweat pouring from their faces and their brawny arms as they handled long shovels. A long trough ran the whole length of the building, filled with black, silky mud, over which steaming water, which emitted a sulphurous odour, was running. At right angles with this main trough are smaller ones. At the head of each of these is a tub for a water-bath, and beyond that is a dressing-room. These divisions are separated by half partitions. A quantity of mud is taken from the big trough and stirred up in one of the little ones. When it has reached a proper consistency and temperature, the patient stretches himself at length upon the steaming mass, and is covered by an attendant witih more of the same material. A few gunny sacks, neatly arranged on the top to confine the heat, make an artistic finish, and the patient's head alone protrudes. If the patient survives, the baths get. the glory ; if he dies, his case was hopeless from the start. Deacon Hardwicke would remain in one of these baths an hour, enduring an experience which might have killed a man of less phlegmatic temperament. Then he would try to persuade others to follow his example, greatly to the disgueat of the managers, who were afraid that somebody would die in a bath, and so ruin the reputation of their establishment.

'Hlius lit happened that, the deacon seemed to be deserted, when, balancing myself on the plank that edged tlie steaming pool, I halted at the foot of his grade, and gazed at his closed eyes and limvy. immobile features, down which trickled little rivulets of perspiration. " Will you kindly tell me what time it is2" he asked, in a sepulchral tone, which added to the horrors of the situation. "Ten o'clock," I .-'aid. "Want to get out ? I'll call the attendant." I ime isn't up for fifteen minutes yet." replied the deacon. I picked up a sponge that Was at hand in a basin of cool water, and. for the next fifteen minutes, f bathed the deacon's perspiring forehead with the grateful fluid. "Don't you want a mud bath ? They are great things," asked the deacon, as I turned to go. " Not to-day." I replied. " To-mor-row. maybe, or next day. perhaps I'll indulge." "Take them about 110. and stay in three-quarters of an hour, and they will cure your rheumatism," responded the deacon reassuringly. Two hours later the deacon .joined the other guests at the hotel, professing to be greatly refreshed by his bath, lie was tall, awkward, and angular, yet dignified. His way of speecii was so slow and solemn as to seem affected. I was told that he was a " Forty-niner," that his title of deacon was only honorary. having originally been bestowed by his associates in the mines, and clinging to him through many changes of fortune, and that his business was real estate.

We became fast friends, and I found him an interesting study. To reach the hot springs the traveller crosses live miles of desert country, where the cactus flourishes like the green bay tree, and the coyote shrills at night his peculiar lay. Then he climbs " the grade." a rise of a thousand feet in two miles. This part of the way is over a mountain mad. which skirts precipices, and winds in and out among canyons in a way that makes timid people dizzy.

One bi-ight. beautiful winter afternoon Deacon Hardwicke started for the hotel. That morning he had procured a<t Roomopolis a livery team and a driver, and had been taken to different points about the valley, looking at lands which were offered for sale. Having completed his inspection, he was driven to the foot of the grade, and there he dismissed the team. He had in his hand a little blacc leather wallet, containing deeds, and. as he walked along in his slow and dignified fashion, his eyes bent on the ground, he looked like a gentleman of leisure, perhaps a wealthy eastern tourist rout for an airing. At the foot of the grade is a little ranch house, and. just beyond, the road makes a turn almost at right angles and skirts the edge of a canyon, where the traveller is hidden from view from either direction.

In this angle of the way a man was waiting for the afternoon stage, which was about due. Tt carried the mail for the hotel, and sometimes considerable express matter, to say nothing of the passengers.

But the deacon happened to come first, and as he turned the corner, plodding slowly along, he heard a smooth, clear, firm, but not impatient voice sav : "Wait a moment, sir. And kindly hand over that gripsack, and vour monev."

dancing up. the deacon hchehl a big revolver pointed at his head.

Deacon Hardwicke was surprised and grieved. Tie was not a coward. He had lived in nianv a lawless community, had see 11 men lynched, had himself been a target for bullets more than once, if he had been armed he would have fought as lie afterwards assured me.

But the a o| tailing fact flashed over him that lie had no "gun." and that the gentlemanly stranger " had the drop" on him.

" Come." said the highwayman, in a more threatening tone. " I menu business. Drop your wallet. ("Jive me your money, or I'll let daylight through yon." The deacon halted and shook his list at the man. What lie said is not mate rial to this recital. Then he turned and

ran down the grade. The highwayman fired twice, and the deacon afterwards stated thai the balls whistled by in close proximity to his head. The shots flustered him. ITe stumbled, tripped, and fell. He lonised his shins and tore the skin ft i his wrists. The wallet flew from his hand, and lie lay in the road, howling with rage and pain. The marauder advanced leisurely and picked up the wallet. Just then the stage, which was a trifle late, as usual, rolled slowly around the turn in the road.

The deacon's assailant leaped down the steep bank of tae canyon and rolled headlong among the chaparral. The remarks of the passengers on the stage, which picked him tip and brought him to the hotel, did not tend to make him better niuured. " Guess it was all a fake." " I didn't hear any shots." " More scared than hurt." These were some of the whispered comments thai came to the deacon's ears.

If 1 had only had a gun," he said to me, " that fellow would never have got out of there alive. It's the disgrace that hurts. 1 don't see how I was careless enough to leave any gun at home these times," he said, with tears in his eyes. "Do you think you would know the fellow should you see him again !' I asked. " 1 should know him anywhere. He is short and wiry, dark hair, moustache, no beard, black eyes. And there is a great, red. Hauling scar across his cheek —knife wound. I reckon." I'll tell you what we'll do," I said. " Let us go to Boomopolis and find him. He will soon see that there is no pursuit, and will certainly go there. Perhaps we can arrest him yet." Boomopolis at that time was only an infant among the cities of southern California. There were huge gaps among its business houses, now filled with stately edifices. There were no pavements, and where a hundred globes of electric fire now glare at night upon the passer by, there was then only the dim and fitful gleam of lamps from tl*e windows of the scattered stores. Aifter an elaborate supper at the Transcontinental, served by retired cowboys from Arizona, we sallied forth to visit the saloons and gambling places in search of our robber. We made three or four circuits of the town without success, and finally found ourselves in the Magnolia clubrooms. I was enjoying the character of amateur detective hugely. So far there was a pleasant tinge of excitement—or, rather, an expectation of excitement —and very little danger. But as we scanned the faces of the company without seeing our man. the deacon's brow grew black with disappointment. Ir "was now after nv/n'ght. The cigar store was closed, but the bar was kept open all night. Disappointed in our search, we became absorbed in watching the game.

There is something of the gambler in every man. and. as I looked upon the tense, excited faces of the players the contagion of their example seized me. Amd I felt in my pocket for a coin. Finding nothing but silver, which I did not like to stake as there was none on the table. I was on the point of borrowing a double eagle from the deacon when I heard a quiet, but distinct voice at the end of the room say : " Hands up. gentlemen, if you please." (rfcuMiing around. I saw a man standing at the door leading to the bar. a revolver in each hand pointed at us. He was a short, slight man. with dark hair and a fliaming scar across his face. There was no confusion. One of the loungers quietly placed his back against the door leading to the cigar store and drew two revolvers, which he pointed along the table. Two others, evidently confederates ail so. stood at ease awaiting the next order. The rest of us lifted our hands simultaneously. "The gents thiait: are seated will kindly rise," said the voice near the door. The gamblers rose as one man. " Now. then. Everybody right about and face the wall." was the next com mand. We advanced in two rows to the opposite sides of the room and stood, as directed, ranged against the walls. Tlie.n the two confederates stepped leisurely to the table, and scooped" the gold into a couple of little sacks which they produced from their pockets.

11; wing secured the money oil the tiable, the brigands proceeded to ml) our persons. Witlh :i great show of politeness tihey requested us to give up our wiatiehes, money, and weapoais. The fellow tossed my revolver and my few silver dollars into his saick and grabbed at my watch. " D n tilie tiling !" he said, and threw it on the floor. Just then there was a crashing, ex plosive sound, deafening in the narrow confines of the room—then another - another—.and another. Then rani" darkness, a quick rush of feet, a tumult of shouts and groans. It was the deacon, of course. I knew it before the welcome, hurried arrival of men from outside, with lanterns. lie had " turned loose" at the leader. They had exchanged three or four shots lie fore the light went out. quickly and mysteriously. The men with the sacks and the money were gone, but the deacon was bending over a form that was stretched upon the floor. The felhvw tried to lift himself upon his elbow. " I know you. pard." he said. "You're the man I stood up this afternoon. You've held over me this time. I'm gone." The deacon's eyes softened. Tie dropped his revolver, put Tiis long arm under the other's head, and tried to turn him into a more comfortable position. " T a.in sorry for you." lie said, slowly and simply. "O it's all right." gasped the wounded man. evidently speaking witli great difficulty. "I came—into—thegame—on—a bluff, but—you've—called -me -sure." " Is there anything that I can do for you asked the deacon. Bend down here," said the man. The deacon lowered his head, ami the other whispered something to him. " I'll do it." said the deacon : " I'll do it. so help me God !" Tile next day in the afternoon the deacon and I sat on tlio veranda of the hotel at the Hut Springs, enjoying a stinliath, and admiring the diversified land scape before Us. " Now there was that young fellow yesterday." he said. " Had he told me u "'i" lie was I would have lent him Spxi to go oast. and there he might have amounted to something. ITe siiimlv threw his lit'., awav," " What did that \ oting 'fellow sav to yon I asked. " 'l'old mi- his name. Von would know the family if I mention it. Wanted me to see tiiat he was deeetitlv buried, and to write to his father and mother. I>o yon see tliat vulture 'w.n up in the air ? Look how he sails, and never moves his wings. Isn't it wonder fill V" I looked in the direction indicated, but could see nothing, except a wide expanse of clear, blue sky. " Your eyes are belter than mine." I sa id. " It's the mud baths." replied the deacon. "Take them 110, and stay in al'oiit an hour. They purify the blood. ■ 111i• -k• ■ll the circulation, and keep you young and vigorous."Argonaut."