THE TRAGEDY.
MACBETH--" I have done the deed. This is a sorry sight."
James Warren was a stout, thick-set man, about forty years of age. Hewas an American by birth, but he had lived for many years in ComptonCounty. It was said that he had made a good deal of money by smugglinggoods into the States. He had the reputation of being a hard liver, andsomething of a braggart.
Warren had been sworn in as a special constable to arrest Donald. Armedwith the warrant, he had lounged round the village of Megantic watchinghis opportunity. He made loud boasts that he would take Morrison dead oralive. He pulled out a pistol. This gave emphasis to the threat. Wehave already said that Donald always went armed. Sometimes he carried arifle: more generally a couple of six-shooters.
Warren was in the hotel drinking. It was about noon on a beautiful dayin June.
One of the villagers rushed into the bar.
"Here's Morrison coming down the street," he said, in a tone ofexcitement.
"All right," said Warren, "this is my chance."
"You daren't arrest him," a by-stander said.
"Daren't I, by ----," he replied. "Here, give me a drink of whiskey."
He quaffed the glass, and went out to the front. Donald was comingtowards him. He saw Warren, and crossed to the other side to avoid him.
Warren went over and intercepted him.
"You've got to come with me," said Warren, pulling out the warrant.
"Let me pass," Donald replied in firm, commanding tones, "I want to havenothing to do with you."
"But, by ----, I have something to do with you," Warren angrilyretorted. "You have got to come with me, dead or alive."
"What do you mean?" Donald demanded, while his right hand sought hiship pocket.
"I mean what I say," Warren replied, fast losing control over himself.Pulling out his revolver, he covered Donald, and commanded him tosurrender.
About a dozen people watched the scene in front of the hotel, chained tothe spot with a species of horrible fascination.
The moment that Donald saw Warren pull out his revolver, and coverhim with it, he clenched his teeth with a deadly determination, and,whipping out his own weapon, and taking steady aim, he fired.
Warren, with his pistol at full cock in his hand, fell back--dead!
The bullet had entered the brain through the temple.
Donald bent over him, saw that he was dead, and, muttering between histeeth, "It was either my life or his," walked down the street out ofsight.
Warren lay in a pool of blood, a ghastly spectacle. Some poor mother hadonce held this man to her breast, and shed tears of joy or sorrow overhim!