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Updated: June 16, 2025
His beard had grown out on his usually clean-shaven face and his cheeks looked sallow and sunken. He was tingling all over with a raging desire to throw his arms about her and tell her how he loved her and longed to make her his wife, but suddenly a mind-picture of Toot Wambush rose before him.
It ain't none o' my business I'm no hand to meddle, but I know women! She kep' cryin' an' sayin' that they'd murder you, an' ef they did she'd kill Toot Wambush ur die in the attempt. I'm tellin' you a straight tale." Westerfelt sat down in a chair at the side of the door. Washburn led the horse into the stable and put him into a stall. Then he came back.
"No, no!" she cried, "you must not be reckless." "I am a pretty good shot," he went on, bitterly, "and Toot Wambush shall be my first target, if I can pick him out. Then the rest may do what they like with me. You go home. It will do you no good to be seen with me." She caught his arm. "If you don't go, I'll stay right here with you. Hush! Listen! What was ? Great Heavens, they are coming. Go!
Wambush tried to kick him in the stomach, but Bradley prevented it by jerking him backward. It now became a struggle between three men and one, and that one really seemed equal in strength to the other three. "Drap the knife!" yelled Warlick again, and he drew a big revolver, and with the butt of it began to hammer Toot's clinched fingers.
Then, before Toot could shield himself, Westerfelt struck him with the force of a battering-ram squarely in the mouth. Wambush whined in pain, spat blood from gashed lips, and shook his head like a lion wounded in the mouth. He ran backward a few feet to recover himself, and then, with a mad cry, rushed at Westerfelt and caught him by the throat.
"I come to warn you," she began, awkwardly, her eyes raised to his. "Toot Wambush has prejudiced the Whitecaps against you. He has convinced them that you reported the moonshiners. They are coming to-night to take you out. The others don't mean to kill you; they say it's just to whip you, and tar and feather you, and drive you out of the place, but he Toot Wambush will kill you if he can.
"You know what we-uns want," answered the leader. "We come after Toot Wambush; turn 'im out, ef you know what's good fer you." "Gentlemen, I'm a sworn officer of the law, I " "Drap that! Open that cell door, ur we'll put daylight through you." This was followed by the low, pleading voice of the jailer's wife, begging her husband to comply with the demand, and the wailing of two or three children.
Westerfelt got into the buggy and took up the reins. "I reckon, Miss Harriet, you hain't heerd frum Toot sence I seed you?" "No, Mr. Wambush." Westerfelt was not looking at her as she spoke, and the saddest part of it lay in the fact that he was trying to save her from what he imagined must be a very embarrassing situation. "No, he has not written me."
Westerfelt was waiting for him to make the attack, but, unlike his antagonist, was growing calmer every second. All at once Wambush sent his right arm towards Westerfelt's face so quickly that the spectators scarcely saw it leave his side, but it was not quicker than Westerfelt's left, which skilfully parried the thrust.
Wambush struck at Bradley with his left hand, but the bar-keeper caught it, and between him and Bradley, Wambush was overpowered. "The sheriff's coming!" a voice exclaimed, as a big man rode up quickly and dismounted. "Hello!" he cried, "I summon you, Buck Hillhouse, and Luke Bradley, in the name o' the law to 'rest Wambush. Take that knife from 'im!"
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