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Updated: June 15, 2025
T. STERRY HUNT, President, JOHN GEO. Bourniot, Hon. Secretary. Montreal, August 27, 1884. Dr. Hunt's predecessor in office, the Hon. Dr. CHAUVEAU, followed and after a few introductory remarks read the address in French.
"See here, Sterry," he said, assuming an affected jocularity which deceived no one, "I'll own you've played it on me mighty fine. But you can't stand there all night with your Winchester p'inted at me, and bime-by I'll git tired; can't we fix the matter up some way?"
With little hesitation, for his memory was instantly prompted by others, he pronounced each name, and to every one came the prompt, unmistakable response of the owner. "One of those rustlers has managed to get in here undiscovered," was the next theory of Sterry, whose temper did not improve at the unaccountable turn of affairs.
It need not be explained how it came about that young Sterry found it necessary to give a great deal of his attention to that section of Wyoming in which the Whitneys lived. There appeared to be more need of it there than in any of the other neighborhoods where the outlook was really threatening.
Sterry lived in Boston, where he and Fred Whitney were classmates and warm friends. Young Whitney had spent several Sundays with Sterry, and the latter finally accepted the invitation to visit him at his home down in Maine. These two young men, materially aided by Jennie, speedily turned the house topsy-turvy.
While she stood trembling, with her cloak wrapped about her, Capt. Asbury called Monteith. I whispered to her 'Now! and drew back the door. She stepped through, and was gone before any one, excepting myself, suspected anything." "But what reason can she have for believing Vesey will favour her plan?" asked Sterry, feeling an admiration for the daring young woman.
"I never supposed we were so near Fred Whitney's home," was the amazed comment of Sterry, who was in doubt whether, under the circumstances, he ought to be pleased or not. "There's where we'll make a stand," called out Capt. Asbury, "and let the music begin."
"Who's he?" asked Amy disinterestedly. "He runs the Commercial House. He comes out from New York on the express and I go over and get him." "Oh, is this his car?" "No, it belongs to Sterry, the liveryman. I drive for him. It's been a good car in its day, but it's pretty old now. Runs pretty well, though, when it's in shape." "I hope," said Clint, "it's in shape today." "Sure.
Sterry half expected, in case everything promised well, that Vesey would manage to give something in the nature of a preliminary signal, but the closest scrutiny showed nothing of the kind. Capt. Asbury, who maintained his place near one of the front windows, close to the door, suddenly called: "Come here a moment, Sterry." The young man stepped hastily across the room.
Sterry knew each, as did his companion. "All the party do not seem to be there," remarked Sterry. "They are not," replied Vesey; "three are missing." "I wonder if anything can have happened to them?" "Accidents are liable to take place in this part of the world " "Hands up!" was the startling command that broke upon the couple at that moment, from a point directly behind them.
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