A HOLD UP.
Soon after the above incident, I went one night about 9 o’clock to call for my wife, who was visiting some friends near McGoffin’s place. As I walked unarmed and with my overcoat thrown over my shoulder, I heard and saw a man walking suspiciously behind me, and determined to watch him, but as he followed a different street at a junction I dismissed him from my mind. Suddenly he sprang from the bushes about fifteen feet from the road, with a very large pistol directed at me, and the following dialogue ensued:
He—“Halt! Your money or your life.”
I—“My friend, I haven’t a damn cent.”
He—“Er, er. Hold up your hands.”
I did as requested.
He—“Ain’t you got no jewelry nor nothin’?”
I—“I told you no.”
He—“I believe you are a d—n liar.”
I—“Ain’t it bad enough to be broke without being insulted about it?”