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Updated: June 21, 2025
"What would you have done if they'd socked it to you?" was the answer Longley made. "I never thought I'd lay in a bush to stick up a train," remarked Merwin; "but a call loan's different. A call's a call with me. We've got twelve hours yet, Bill, before this spy jumps onto you. We've got to raise them spondulicks somehow. Maybe we can Great Sam Houston! do you hear that?"
Longley, then Archbishop of Canterbury, requesting him to summon a conference of all the Bishops of the Anglican Communion; and, after some characteristic hesitation, this was done. A Letter of Invitation was issued in February, 1867.
Hopkins was suddenly swept away to death by the fatal waves of the Minnesota and his recovered body was laid to rest under the oaks where Thomas Longley had slept all alone for seven years. Thus the mission at Traverse des Sioux was closed by the messenger of death. It was continued, however, in the nearby frontier town of St. Peter, whose white settlers requested the Rev.
Surely it was a novelty an Indian band, regulated by written laws and governed by officers, elected by themselves for a term of years. It now exists only in the memory of the oldest of the tribesmen or the missionaries. Stephen R. Riggs. This station was doomed to a tragic history. July 15, 1843, Thomas Longley, the favorite brother of Mrs.
"Say, I ain't got you, Bill. Wot's your game?" he demanded, with some asperity. But the gambler was quite undisturbed by his annoyance. He only chuckled. "Say," he countered, "ever heerd tell of Swanny Long, the biggest tough in Idaho?" "Sure. But " "That's him that feller Sim Longley." The storekeeper stared. "You sure?" "Sure? Gee!
And all through the game the gambler allowed himself to be drawn into talking of Suffering Creek by the interested Longley, until it would have been obvious to the veriest greenhorn that the stranger was pumping him. The newcomers seemed to be enjoying themselves enormously, and the greatest good-will prevailed.
The examiner was surprised to see a smile creep about the rugged mouth of the banker, and a kindly twinkle in his light-blue eyes. If he saw the seriousness of the affair, it did not show in his countenance. "Of course, you don't know Tom Merwin," said Longley, almost genially. "Yes, I know about that loan. It hasn't any security except Tom Merwin's word.
The men turned round and eyed him with interest. Then the man called Joe called back to the storekeeper. "My name's Joe Manton," he said, by way of introduction. "An' my friend's called Sim Longley. Say," he went on, with a backward jerk of the head, "mebbe your friend'll take something?" Minky glanced over at Wild Bill. The gambler drowsily opened his eyes and bestirred himself.
"I'll try to raise the money for you on time," said Merwin, interested in his plaiting. "All right, Tom," concluded Longley, as he turned toward the door; "I knew you would if you could." Merwin threw down his whip and went to the only other bank in town, a private one, run by Cooper & Craig. "Cooper," he said, to the partner by that name, "I've got to have $10,000 to-day or to-morrow.
He was held thus, like a child, until the engine had taken water, and until the train had moved, with accelerating speed, out of sight. Then he was released, and rose to his feet to face Bill Longley. "The case never needed to be fixed up this way, Tom," said Longley. "I saw Cooper this evening, and he told me what you and him talked about.
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