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Updated: May 3, 2025
As the days passed and no sign was given by the missing Nellie, and anxiety began to be manifest in the Murray household, a message was brought by a boy, who said he had received it from a man on the road, that Mrs. Murray would do well to hurry to Slaughter's at the Three-mile.
But that was not John Slaughter's way; if any one were going to take the power of the high justice he proposed to be the man. He rode over to Contention and camped in front of Juan Soto's house late in the evening. The night passed, and when the bandit leader came riding home from Charleston with the dawn, he saw the sheriff standing before his door.
On a flat car there stood two new pieces of artillery made of a bronze-colored metal, and of a different style from any we had yet seen. In our last battle, that of Slaughter's Mountain, we had noticed, for the first time, a singular noise made by some of the shells fired at us, and quite like the shrill note of a tree-frog on a big scale.
Augur prolonged the line across the Plains Store road under cover of the woods, yet in plain view of the Confederate entrenchments. Sherman held the Baton Rouge road, occupying the skirt of woods that formed the eastern edge of Slaughter's and Gibbons's fields.
And then it became a simple matter of hunting down outlaws and bringing them in for trial. The arm of the law was limbered and justice functioned in the Tombstone court-house as well as it does in any city of the land; far better than is the case in some more pretentious communities. There was of course plenty of work left. Tombstone is full of stories of John Slaughter's exploits.
The man opened the door; and with a bounding heart Mary hastened down the street, crossed the square, and at the bottom of Orchard Street stepped into a hackney-coach, which she ordered to drive to Slaughter's Coffee-house, St. Martin's Lane. She drew up the glasses and closed her eyes.
But the adventurer rode back to Birralong distressed and distrait, refusing, or failing, to put into words for the benefit of others his experience at the lonely Three-mile. All that he could express was conveyed by the pursing up of his lips, the nodding of his head in the direction of Slaughter's residence, and the exclaiming, solemnly and sadly, "Him? A melancholy bandicoot ain't in it."
A grim tale for the ears of a woman who was waiting word from Mexico. A woman heard it out John Slaughter's young bride.
'Never heard the gentleman speak, sir at least not to my knowledge, sir, said the sergeant. 'Heh, heh! Never heard him speak, heh? That will do for Slaughter's, sergeant. That will set them all in a titter at Slaughter's. Pink my soul! but when I venture on a story the folk complain that they can't get served, for the drawers laugh until there is no work to be got out of them.
By the time of De Moivre's death, or shortly after, the character of the frequenters of Slaughter's underwent a change, for when Goldsmith alluded to the house in 1758 it was to make the remark that if a man were passionate "he may vent his rage among the old orators at Slaughter's Coffee-house, and damn the nation, because it keeps him from starving."
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