Roughing It by Mark Twain

it the common talk of the town that he has horsewhipped me. That fact

having been made public, all the facts in connection need to be also, or

silence on my part would seem more than singular, and with many would be

proof either that I was conscious of some unworthy aim in publishing the

article, or else that my “non-combatant” principles are but a convenient

cloak alike of physical and moral cowardice. I therefore shall try to

present a graphic but truthful picture of this whole affair, but shall

forbear all comments, presuming that the editors of our own journal, if

others do not, will speak freely and fittingly upon this subject in our

next number, whether I shall then be dead or living, for my death will

not stop, though it may suspend, the publication of the PEOPLE’S TRIBUNE.

[The “non-combatant” sticks to principle, but takes along a friend or two

of a conveniently different stripe:]

THE TRAP SET.

On Saturday morning John B. Winters sent verbal word to the Gold Hill

Assay Office that he desired to see me at the Yellow Jacket office.

Though such a request struck me as decidedly cool in view of his own

recent discourtesies to me there alike as a publisher and as a

stockholder in the Yellow Jacket mine, and though it seemed to me more

like a summons than the courteous request by one gentleman to another for

a favor, hoping that some conference with Sharon looking to the

betterment of mining matters in Nevada might arise from it, I felt

strongly inclined to overlook what possibly was simply an oversight in

courtesy. But as then it had only been two days since I had been bruised

and beaten under a hasty and false apprehension of facts, my caution was

somewhat aroused. Moreover I remembered sensitively his contemptuousness

of manner to me at my last interview in his office. I therefore felt it

needful, if I went at all, to go accompanied by a friend whom he would

not dare to treat with incivility, and whose presence with me might

secure exemption from insult. Accordingly I asked a neighbor to

accompany me.

THE TRAP ALMOST DETECTED.

Although I was not then aware of this fact, it would seem that previous

to my request this same neighbor had heard Dr. Zabriskie state publicly

in a saloon, that Mr. Winters had told him he had decided either to kill

or to horsewhip me, but had not finally decided on which. My neighbor,

therefore, felt unwilling to go down with me until he had first called on

Mr. Winters alone. He therefore paid him a visit. From that interview

he assured me that he gathered the impression that he did not believe I

would have any difficulty with Mr. Winters, and that he (Winters) would

call on me at four o’clock in my own office.

MY OWN PRECAUTIONS.

As Sheriff Cummings was in Gold Hill that afternoon, and as I desired to

converse with him about the previous assault, I invited him to my office,

and he came. Although a half hour had passed beyond four o’clock, Mr.

Winters had not called, and we both of us began preparing to go home.

Just then, Philip Lynch, Publisher of the Gold Hill News, came in and

said, blandly and cheerily, as if bringing good news:

“Hello, John B. Winters wants to see you.”

I replied, “Indeed! Why he sent me word that he would call on me here

this afternoon at four o’clock!”

“O, well, it don’t do to be too ceremonious just now, he’s in my office,

and that will do as well–come on in, Winters wants to consult with you

alone. He’s got something to say to you.”

Though slightly uneasy at this change of programme, yet believing that in

an editor’s house I ought to be safe, and anyhow that I would be within

hail of the street, I hurriedly, and but partially whispered my dim

apprehensions to Mr. Cummings, and asked him if he would not keep near

enough to hear my voice in case I should call. He consented to do so

while waiting for some other parties, and to come in if he heard my voice

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