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Middleton’s language and manners, exclaimed, "I’ll tell you what, old boy, Bob’s left a sweetheart in New York, and I fancy she lectured him on intemperance, for you know the women are dead set against it." Mr. Middleton looked first at Raymond, then at Stanton and said, "Well, he knows good sense by not touchin’ on’t, I reckon. Got a sweetheart, hey?

We did not permit them to get their weapons until we had watered our horses and got a fresh start. They overtook us about four miles west of Shieldsville, and shots were exchanged without effect on either side. A spent bullet did hit me on thecrazy bone,” and as I was leading Bob’s horse it caused a little excitement for a minute, but that was all. We were in a strange country.

Bob’s shattered elbow was requiring frequent attention, and that night we made only nine miles, and Monday, Monday night and Tuesday we spent in a deserted farm-house close to Mankato. That day a man named Dunning discovered us and we took him prisoner. Some of the boys wanted to kill him, on the theory thatdead men tell no tales,” while others urged binding him and leaving him in the woods.

I feel so sort of blue and depressed, and perhaps that’s natural, for Bob’s away most of the time and I’m here all alone. It’s a big house and sort of lonely and sometimes I find myself imagining how it would seem to have someone from home in it with me, and I find myself almost crying—I do, for a fact, Aunt Mary.

‘Let’s see,’ resumed the manager, telling the number on his fingers, ‘we shall have three dancing female peasants, besides Fenella, and four fishermen. Then, there’s our man Tom; he can have a pair of ducks of mine, and a check shirt of Bob’s, and a red nightcap, and he’ll do for anotherthat’s five.

Bob, however, did not see Wheeler, who was upstairs in the hotel behind him, and Wheeler’s third shot shattered Bob’s right elbow as he stood beneath the stairs. Changing his pistol to his left hand, Bob ran out and mounted Miller’s mare. Howard and Pitts had at last come out of the bank. Miller was lying in the street, but we thought him still alive.

A bullet had pierced Bob’s right lung, but he was the only one left on his feet. His right arm useless, and his pistol empty, he had no choice. “I surrender,” he had shouted. “They’re all down but me. Come on. I’ll not shoot.” And Sheriff Glispin’s order not to shoot was the beginning of the protectorate that Minnesota people established over us.

While the pudding is being disposed of, Mr. and Mrs. Whiffler look on with beaming countenances, and Mr. Whiffler nudging his friend Saunders, begs him to take notice of Tom’s eyes, or Dick’s chin, or Ned’s nose, or Mary Anne’s hair, or Emily’s figure, or little Bob’s calves, or Fanny’s mouth, or Carry’s head, as the case may be. Whatever the attention of Mr. Saunders is called to, Mr.

Howard and Woods, who had favored killing Dunning, and who felt we were losing valuable time because of Bob’s wound, left us that night and went west. As we afterward learned, this was an advantage to us as well as to them, for they stole two horses soon after leaving us, and the posse followed the trail of these horses, not knowing that our party had been divided.

Sheriff Glispin, of Watonwan county, who was taking Bob’s pistol from him, was also shouting to the fellow: “Don’t shoot him or I’ll shoot you.” All of us but Bob had gone down at the first fire. Pitts, shot through the heart, lay dead.