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Updated: June 6, 2025
You will be supported by no warrant of arrest, and can't take a sufficient detail to protect you." "No," said Callomb, quietly; "I go on my own responsibility and I go by myself." "And," stormed Merriwether, "you'll never come back." "I think," smiled Callomb, "I'll get back. I owe an old man over there an apology, and I want to see this desperado at first hand." "It's sheer madness.
The second visitor, however, was so insistent that the secretary finally consented to take in the card. After a glance at it, his chief ordered admission. The door opened, and Captain Callomb entered. He was now in civilian clothes, with portentous news written on his face. He paused in annoyance at the sight of a second figure standing with back turned at the window.
"If it's not an impertinent question, what part of the mountains have you been visiting?" Samson laughed. "Not any part of the mountains," he said. "I've been living chiefly in New York and for a time in Paris." Callomb drew his horse to a dead halt. "In the name of God," he incredulously asked, "what manner of man are you?"
Horsemen led their mounts away from the more public racks, and tethered them to back fences and willow branches in the shelter of the river banks, where stray bullets would not find them. The dawn that morning had still been gray when Samson South and Captain Callomb had passed the Miller cabin. Callomb had ridden slowly on around the turn of the road, and waited a quarter of a mile away.
"It was more than I had the right to expect this warning. I understand the cost of giving it. But it's no use. I can't cut and run. No, by God, you wouldn't do it! You can't ask me to do it." "By God, you can and will!" Callomb spoke with determination. "This isn't a time for quibbling. You've got work to do. We both have work to do.
The Governor had asked him to report his impressions, and he meant to form them after analysis. So, smarting under his impotency, Captain Callomb came out of his tent one morning, and strolled across the curved bridge to the town proper. He knew that the Grand Jury was convening, and he meant to sit as a spectator in the court-house and study proceedings when they were instructed.
"Now, by God, I've got to take you back and let them murder you, and you're the one man who might have been useful to the State." The Governor had been more influenced by watching the two as they talked than by what he had heard. "It seems to me, gentlemen," he suggested quietly, "that you are both overlooking my presence." He turned to Callomb. After all, I'm still the Governor."
I ought to take you down to this infernal crook of a Judge, and have you committed to a strait-jacket." "If," said Callomb, "you are content to play the cats-paw to a bunch of assassins, I'm not. The mail-rider went out this morning, and he carried a letter to old Spicer South. I told him that I was coming unescorted and unarmed, and that my object was to talk with him.
The County Judge laughed. "Well, I reckon I can't attend to that right now." "Then, you refuse?" "Mebby you might call it that." Samson leaned on the Judge's table, and rapped sharply with his knuckles. His handful of men stood close, and Callomb caught his breath, in the heavy air of storm-freighted suspense. The Hollman partisans filled the room, and others were crowding to the doors.
There was little conversation in the ranks of the new company, but their faces grew black as they listened to the jeers and insults across the way, and they greedily fingered their freshly issued rifles. They would be ready when the command of execution came. Callomb himself went forward with the flag of truce. He shouted his message, and a bearded man came to the court-house door.
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