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On the evening in question it was the evening after the bloody and unsuccessful attempt to rob the Benson stage, and several men were riding hard toward home and help and alibis he was spurring his sweating horse to Tombstone when he got sight of John Slaughter's double rig ahead of him.
We left them, and were in full expectation of their way-laying or coming after us, but the Lord restrained them. The next house we stopped at we found the same wicked spirit." Col. ELIJAH ELLSWORTH, of Richfield, Ohio, gives the following testimony: "Eight or ten years ago I was in Putnam county, in the state of Georgia, at a Mr. Slaughter's, the father of my brother's wife.
In another place Edgeworth infers that Banks, Solander, and Cook were members of a club which met at Slaughter's Coffee House in 1765. Of course, this is an error, for Cook was then engaged in Newfoundland, and unknown to the Royal Society, whose members composed the club spoken of; in fact, Cook, though a frequent guest in after times, was never a member of the Royal Societies Club.
The taunt let loose the rage and fury that had been gradually growing in Slaughter's mind; let loose from his restraint all the passionate emotions stirred and re-stirred by the events of the day; and before the storm of fierce denunciation to which he gave vent, one of the two men quailed, and strove to edge nearer the door.
Then one may, after an arriere supper, drop into Will's or Slaughter's and find Old John, with Tickell and Congreve and the rest of them, hard at work on the dramatic unities, or poetical justice, or some such matter. I confess that my own tastes lay little in that line, for about that hour I was likely to be worse employed with wine-flask, dice-box, or
One bullet was all it needed to do the work and he was trying hard to put one into the proper place, using all the skill he had attained in long practice under fire, when a shot from John Slaughter's rifle broke his arm. The Texan was firing slowly, lining his sights carefully every time before he pressed the trigger.
The figure of the man before them, strangely altered and moved, with the scornful bitterness they had learned to regard as his characteristic gone from his face, struck into their dull minds as something akin to a rebuke for their indifference to Ailleen's repeated requests for them to carry out a dying man's wish. The man was dead now, and Slaughter's words "too late" made them wince.
The heat and smoke where Tony stopped nearly overpowered him, but Slaughter had dashed almost up to the oncoming line before he fired the grass; and the men of Birralong, who knew what bush fires mean, had no words to express what they thought of Slaughter's act. "Cold-blood Slaughter, eh?"
And it was a firmly established habit in Lincoln County to mind your own business; so the project, while it became generally known, created no excitement. The Man from Bitter Creek went up the river to the neighborhood of Fort Sumner when John Slaughter's herd drew near the Chisum ranch. He made his camp and bided the arrival of the cattle; but that arrival did not materialize.
Yet while prize-courts procrastinated, or there was a chance of an appointment by showing their sunburned faces at the Admiralty, so long they would continue to pace with their quarter-deck strut down Whitehall, or to gather of an evening to discuss the events of the last war or the chances of the next at Fladong's, in Oxford Street, which was reserved as entirely for the Navy as Slaughter's was for the Army, or Ibbetson's for the Church of England.
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