“Begone, or you are a dead man,” said Mr. Callicot to Somers, who still remained in the room.
“You mistake me, sir,” returned Somers; “I am a friend, and not an enemy.”
“Begone, or you shall die!” repeated the old man, now roused to the highest pitch of indignation. “You fired at me as well as the other ruffian.”
“I fired at him.”
At this moment the door by which the owner of the house had first entered was thrown wide open, and Somers discovered Skinley, who had gone round the house, and come in by another entrance. The wretch instantly raised his rifle, and fired. The old man dropped heavily on the floor, and his daughter uttered a scream of agony, as she threw herself on his body.
“That’s the way a Texican settles yer hash!” shouted Skinley.
Somers, who had returned the pistol to his belt, drew it again, and fired in the direction of the door, though the smoke prevented him from seeing the form of Skinley. The guerilla rushed out of the house, and disappeared. Somers followed him, determined not to be balked this time. Unfortunately, he turned to the left, while the Texan went to the right; and when he had passed around the house to the lane, he discovered the scoundrel, already mounted, and spurring his horse away from the scene.
Skinley the Texan.—Page 227.
Somers sprang into his saddle, and started in pursuit. The hour had come to avenge the old man, and to discharge the duty imposed upon him, now made easy by the wretch’s crime. He urged forward his good horse to the utmost of his speed, and gained rapidly upon him. Skinley, who could insult a woman, and shoot an old man, had a wholesome fear of his pursuer; but when he found that Somers was gaining upon him, he unslung his rifle, and while his horse was at full speed, turned and fired at his late companion. The bullet did not come near Somers, who still urged on his steed.