I was tramping along at Mac's head when, suddenly, a man stepped from behind the pole and ordered me to throw up my hands. Although excited, I still had the presence of mind to jump behind my donkey. Instantly the highwayman fired at me. Then I fired to show I was armed and ready to defend myself; and at once a shot came from the rocks, a little to my rear. Turning my head, I saw what appeared to be a cave, where presumably the second man was hiding. But just as I turned my head, a second shot from the man in front knocked off my plug hat; and then came a shot from the rocks. Now, fully realizing my peril between two fires, I aimed my revolver at the man in the road some thirty feet away, and fired to cripple him. I apparently succeeded, for the fellow cried, "God! I'm hit!" and fell in the snow-covered road, resting on one elbow, and pressing his hand to his right breast.
Not sure, however, that the man was not feigning, I shot into the cave, from which at once issued the other footpad, who ran down the tow-path. Then I picked up my hat and passed by the prostrate man, keeping my revolver trained upon him, and hurried on toward Seneca Falls.
A quarter of a mile beyond I came to Lock House No. 6. My story greatly excited the quiet household. Hibbard, the keeper, with a lantern helped me examine Mac to see if he was wounded; then we were generously cared for. After drinking a cup of tea and toasting my feet awhile at the fire, I made my departure.
On reaching Seneca Falls, I called on the chief of police; he being absent, I saw the Mayor, who told me that I did only my duty by shooting in self-defense. Then I went back to the hotel where, in the crowd of excited people anxious to hear my story, were reporters eager to gather the facts of the affair.
Next day Hibbard reported that at 2 o'clock in the morning he had heard a buggy pass his house toward the scene of the shooting, and, although he laid awake until daylight, did not hear it return. He said it was the first vehicle in years to traverse the tow-path at such a late hour, and believed the injured footpad had been rescued by his confederate and driven away.
After lunch I left for Waterloo, where I found its main thoroughfare so choked with people to see me that I could not get Mac through. They hailed me as a hero, and shouted my name and Mac's until they were hoarse, and purchased all my photographs at twice the regular price. Finally, we resumed our journey, and arrived in Geneva long after dark.
Geneva is the seat of Hobart College. One of the societies invited me to a spread at its fraternity house; and, while I was there, Mac was stolen from the stable, of which I was not informed until evening. In view of the fact that a cow had recently been lodged in the college library, I shouldered my Winchester and set out on the war-path after breakfast, accompanied by the Chief of the Fire Department.
We had searched the dormitories and cellars of the college buildings and were going to the gymnasium, when I discovered Mac standing in the snow, eating thistles. It had been a cold and stormy night; he was covered with snow, and icicles hung from his under jaw. Yet the donkey uttered no complaint, merely saying, "The boys didn't do a thing to me last night." I learned from a professor that Mac had been found in a recitation room describing impossible theorems and eating chalk, and that the janitor and two professors had their hands full carrying the donkey down two staircases and out of doors.
Although it was biting cold and the mercury had fallen to the zero point, I could not afford to tarry longer. After lunch we set out in a blinding snow-storm and tramped on to Phelps, where we stopped for supper and an hour's rest. At first Mac had shown no ill-effects of his recent exposure, but now he coughed. Having made but eight miles that day, I resolved to brave the storm four miles further, and reached Clifton Springs at ten o'clock. There I obtained comfortable lodgings for myself and partner.
Next day the venerable director of the Sanitarium invited me to be his guest, and kindly permitted me to lecture to the patients of his fashionable hostelry for a silver offering. Of course, I accepted. My "heart to heart" talk seemed to tickle the large audience, but when the porter brought back my hat with only two dollars in it I was disappointed. I had expected a contribution commensurate with the encores. When I paid the porter 25 cents for his services, I dropped my spectacles and broke the glasses. A new pair would cost me $1.75. That made accounts even.