Harper's Round Table, July 7, 1896

Copyright, 1896, by Harper & Brothers. All Rights Reserved.

The porch of Bishop's store—the heart, so to speak, of the Jim-Ned Creek settlement—was deserted, for the November day was bleak and raw. Half a score or more men lounged over the counters within, or sat silent and ruminant around the smouldering fire. Gideon Bishop, half hidden by his tall desk, was busy with his ledgers, but he glanced furtively and frowningly now and again at his guests.
The Outlaw came up the road at a leisurely pace. She was a small mare, blue-gray in color, with a flowing mane and tail of a fine glossy black, much matted with cockle-burs. She tossed her small head coquettishly in response to the neigh of welcome from the horses hitched to the saplings about the store, and picked her way daintily to the very edge of the porch, where she stood saucily expectant.
Hullo! There's that blue mus tang o' yourn! exclaimed Sam Leggett, jumping down from the counter. It's been nigh onto two year sence she vamoosed , ain't it, Uncle Gid? Where hez she been a-hidin' herse'f?
Mr. Bishop picked up a wagon whip, took a lariat from its nail on the wall, and stepped out upon the porch.
So! You've come back, have you, Lady? he said, with a grim smile. He reached forward as he spoke and attempted to slip the rope over the mare's neck. She shook her mane gently, and dipping her pretty head, nipped his forearm with her strong white teeth.
At another time old Gid, stern and harsh as he was, might not have resented this playful salute, for the skin on his brown wrist was barely grazed, but he was in no mood for such fooling now. He started back with a quick step; his brow reddened angrily, and the fire leaped to his deep-set eyes. He lifted the whip; the long keen lash curled through the air, and descended with a stinging sound upon the runaway's shining flank. She reared violently, uttering a cry almost human in its indignant protest; then she wheeled about, and galloped away in the direction whence she had come.