om it and with the shadow of God's
wrath in my soul," Samson writes. "The sun rose as we halted our horses.
We paced the field. The two men took their places twenty yards apart.
Harry was a little pale but he stood up as straight and steady as a
hitching post. The pistols rang out at the command to fire and both men
fell. Davis had been hit in the left shoulder. My handsome boy lay on his
face. The bullet had bored through his right lung. Before I could reach
him he had risen to his feet ready to go on with the battle. Davis lay
like one paralyzed by the shock of the bullet. His seconds declared they
were satisfied. The surgeons began their work. I saw them take the bullet
out of Harry's back where it had lodged under his skin. I helped them put
the wounded men into the wagon and rode to the house of one of the
doctors near the city wherein were rooms for the accommodation of
critical cases, leading Harry's horse and praying for God's help and
forgiveness. I took care of the boy until Steve Nuckles came to help me.
Bim arrived when Harry was out of his head and didn't know her. She was
determined to stay and do the nursing but I wouldn't let her. She did not
look strong. I loaned her the money to pay the debt to Davis and
persuaded her to go back to her work in Dixon. She went and was rather
heart-broken about it.

"As she was leaving she looked into my face and said: 'Don't tell him or
any one what has happened to me. I want to tell him.'

"I promised to keep her secret and did it. Soon I learned that she was
down sick of her worries. I sent her mother to her and kept the small boy
with me.

"The surgeon said that Harry would live if lung fever didn't set in. It
set in but he pulled through. He mended slowly. I had some fear of arrest
but the conspiracy of silence kept the facts under cover. It was partly
due, I guess, to the friendship of John Wentworth for me and Honest Abe.
He kept it out of the papers. There were no complaints and the rumors
soon fell into silence. I spent about six weeks at Harry's bedside and in
the store which has begun to prosper.

"The boy, 'Mr. Nimble,' is a cunning little man. When he began to get
better, Harry loved to play with him and listen to his talk about
fairies. The young man was able to leave his bed, by and by, but he
didn't get over his weakness and pallor. He had no appetite. I sent him
with Nuckles into the Wisconsin woods to live in the open. Then I took
the small boy to D