ing on my
house, or interfere with me for not doing so, there will be a good many
more killed."

Everybody knew that the old man meant just what he said, and was always
equipped to make good his promises. The effect was remarkable. Instead
of precipitating a fight, it seemed to paralyze the crowd, and nothing
came of it that night; the captain was wise enough quietly to disappear.

Captain Jones had a small brick building on the main street of the town,
a block or two from the Magnolia, where he had his office, and lived in
a back room.

At the proper time the procession formed on the plaza. Bands of music
were interspersed through the line. The orator and distinguished
citizens were in carriages, every vehicle in town being brought into
requisition. There was a large cavalcade of horsemen. I rode in a
handsome buggy, with the principal gambler of the town, and many hundred
footmen followed, the Chinamen bringing up the rear. It was a beautiful
day, the sun shining brightly. The procession moved off majestically
down a back street, off the main thoroughfare, and then turned into the
principal street. Every house on the line of march displayed signs of
mourning on both sides of the street. Soon appeared in the distance
Captain Jones, sitting just outside the line of the sidewalk, in the
street, exactly in front of his house. His head was bare, and his long
white hair glistened in the sunshine. He sat in an arm-chair, with an
immense double-barrelled shotgun poised quietly across his knees. He was
carelessly reading a newspaper, and not a semblance of mourning was to
be seen anywhere on his premises. As the head of the procession reached
him hundreds of hands involuntarily sought their revolvers, and every
man held his breath; even the music ceased, and the expectation was
intense. There were many in the line who would have shot him if they had
dared, but they knew he had hosts of friends in the line who would have
resented it instantly, and to the death, and they also knew the
captain's eye was coursing down the line and the first shot would be
answered by the contents of both barrels of his big gun. So no one
fired; no one spoke; hardly anyone looked. The captain never moved a
muscle, and the column passed.

I remember once of reading an incident in connection with the French
army. While marching in Africa it encountered a splendid African lion,
lying in the road, who did not seem disposed to give the right of way.