a job on
the railroad. Our car was side tracked at a place called Silver
Springs," said Uncle George, "and right at that place came trouble that
took the happiness out of my life forever." Here the story teller paused
to collect his thoughts and conquer the nervous twitching of his lips.
"It was like this: Three of us boys worked together. We were like three
brothers, always sharing our fortunes with each other. We should never
have done it, but we had made a habit of sending to Nashville after each
payday and having a keg of Holland rum sent in by freight. This liquor
was handed out among our friends and sometimes we drank too much and
were unfit for work for a day or two. Our boss was a big strong
Irishman, red haired and friendly. He always got drunk with us and all
would become sober enough to soon return to our tasks."

"The time I'm telling you about, we had all been invited to a candy
pulling in town and could hardly wait till time to go, as all the young
people of the valley would be there to pull candy, talk, play games and
eat the goodies served to us. The accursed keg of Holland rum had been
brought in that morning and my chum John Sims had been drinking too
much. About that time our Boss came up and said, 'John, it is time for
you to get the supper ready!' John was our cook and our meals were
served on the caboose where we lived wherever we were side tracked."

"All the time Johny was preparing the food he was drinking the rum. When
we went in he had many drinks inside of him and a quart bottle filled to
take to the candy pull. 'Hurry up boys and let's finish up and go' he
said impatiently. 'Don't take him' said the other boy, 'Dont you see he
is drunk?' So I put my arms about his shoulders and tried to tell him he
had better sleep a while before we started. The poor boy was a breed.
His mother was almost white and his father was a thoroughbred Indian and
the son had a most aggravating temper. He made me no answer but running
his hand into his pocket, he drew out his knife and with one thrust, cut
a deep gash in my neck. A terrible fight followed. I remember being
knocked over and my head stricking something. I reached out my hand and
discovered it was the ax. With this awful weapon I struck my friend, my
more than brother. The thud of the ax brought me to my senses as our
blood mingled. We were both almost mortally wounded. The boss came in
and tried to do something for our relief but John said, 'Oh, Georg