nd it was Force
Johnson. I know him well. Then I ran, and they followed. A little ahead
of me I saw six or eight of them spread across the road. I knew I'd have
a time getting through, so I jumped the fence to cut across the fields,
and I lit in a swarm of them--it had rained them just where I jumped. I
set my back to the fence, but one of the fellows in the road leaned over
and smashed my head in, rather--with the butt of a gun, I believe. I
came out from the fence and they made a little circle around me. No
one said anything. I saw they had ropes and saplings, and I didn't want
that, exactly, so I went into them. I got a good many hoods off before
it was over, and I can swear to quite a number besides those I told
you."

He named the men, slowly and carefully. Then he went on: "I think
they gave up the notion of whipping. We all got into a bunch, and they
couldn't clear to shoot without hitting some of their own: and there was
a lot of gouging and kicking--one fellow nearly got my left eye, and
I tried to tear him apart and he screamed so that I think he was hurt.
Once or twice I thought I might get away, but somebody hammered me over
the head and face again, and I got dizzy; and then they all jumped away
from me suddenly, and Bob Skillett stepped up--and--shot me. He waited
for a good flurry of lightning, and I was slow tumbling down. Some one
else fired a shot-gun, I think--I can't be sure--about the same time,
from the side. I tried to get up, but I couldn't, and then they got
together, for a consultation. The man I had hurt--I didn't recognize
him--came and looked at me. He was nursing himself all over; and
groaned; and I laughed, I--at any rate, my arm was lying stretched out
on the grass, and he stamped his heel into my hand, and after a little
of that I quit feeling.

"I'm not quite clear about what happened afterwards. They went away, not
far, I think. There's an old shed, a cattle-shelter, near there, and
I think the storm drove them under it to wait for a slack. It seemed a
long time. Sometimes I was conscious, sometimes I wasn't. I thought
I might be drowned, but I suppose the rain was good for me. Then I
remember being in motion, being dragged and carried a long way. They
took me up a steep, short slope, and set me down near the top. I knew
that was the railroad embankment, and I thought they meant to lay me
across the track, but it didn't occur to them, I suppose--they are not
familiar with melodrama--a