A Texas Tragedy
by An Old Contributor
In the height of the land fever, my friend, Harvey Knight, and I went on a southwestern trip to try our fortune with the rest. Who knew but we might stumble on the site of some future great metropolis, where a few hundreds judiciously invested might make us millionaires by the time we reached our prime? Such things had happened to others; why not to us?
As a general thing we pursued our way in company, but occasionally we would separate for a day or two, agreeing on a place of rendezvous, at which whoever arrived first would wait for the other. Our explorations were thus given a wider scope, at less expense of time than would have been possible had we remained constantly together.
We had hardly crossed the Texas boundary when we began to hear of Reuben Duckwall. Like other travellers through the sparsely settled region, we found it prudent to keep ourselves informed, from time to time, of the various places ahead at which food and shelter might be found.
To the answers to our inquiries one piece of advice was invariably added:
“Stop at Duckwall’s tavern, w’atever time ye git there. Old Reub’s the chap to do the squar’ thing by man an’ beast, an’ besides he’s a man of eddycation.”
“Come,” said Harvey Knight, as we took the saddle one morning, “you push… Read More