Adventure Magazine, December 10, 1924 — page 164: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

142 “Well, I’m bound to be a corpse or a gentleman in five minutes.” A few doors up the street, he turned into Robinson’s bar. Peel was there, drinking a cocktail. ‘Are there any Chiefs around this morning?” asked Johnny. “You probably intend that remark for me,” rejoined Peel. “Any one can take it up that wants to.” “All right, we’ll settle it ight now. Come out in the street.”’ Here Johnny made the last and most im- portant mistake in his life. He turned out and into the street. As he faced about he found himself looking into Peel’s revolver- muzzle. One shot finished Johnny and his ambition to be Chief. One thing that procured the slayers im- munity was their disposition to keep their brawls “in the family.” They discrimi- nated even between the police, some of whom were tough cases themselves—as Mark Twain’s “Roughing It” will testify. And Peel was a man of discrimination. Once, drunk and boisterous, and threatened with arrest, he declared that no man that ever wore astar could arrest him. City Marshal Lannon, hearing the uproar, rushed to the place and pushed his way into the throng. He was disagreeably surprized to find that his man was Peel, but, having gone that far he was not the man to back out. The arrest would have to be made. “No man,” reiterated Peel with a profane expletive, “that ever packed a star in this city can arrest me.” Then his eye fell on Lannon, and he added, “‘I’ll take that back. You can arrest me, Pat, for you’re no fighting man; you’re a gentleman.” And ‘giving up his pistol he went with Lannon. But what followed gives an inkling of why judges were chary of dealing with such men. Peel said he hadn’t that much with him, but if permitted to go he would get it and pay the fine. The judge agreed. Peel went out and took several drinks. In about half an hour he returned and walked up to Davenport. “Judge,” he said mildly, “I’ve come back to settle.” Highly pleased, Davenport stroked his long whiskers, of which he was very proud. “Very good of you, Mr. Peel,” he said. But he changed his opinion when Peel, seizing him by those whiskers, pounded his head against the wall. Policemen were Adventure standing by, but none stepped in. They preferred to regard the little incident as a personal affair of the judge’s. Having knocked His Honor dizzy, Peel walked out again. ‘The fine was never collected. Peel managed to outlast five hectic years on the Comstock, and left Nevada un- barked. In Helena, Montana, he had a quarrel with John Bull, the partner who had accompanied him from Nevada, and laid his hand on his pistol. Bull protested that he wasn’t “‘heeled.” “Go, heel yourself,’ and Peel slapped him. “Peel,”’ warned Bull, sure.” ‘‘When you come,” a-fighting.”’ Bull went and made his will. “T’ll come back, advised Peel, “come Then he saw Peel, got the drop on him, and put three bullets into him before Peel could draw his pistol. Peel died with his boots on. TOM PEASLEY, the original of ee Buck Fanshaw in ‘Roughing It,” although contemporary with Farmer Peel on the Comstock, moved in a different class. Few communities thrive in their youth like a prosperous mining camp, and in the four years to elapse between the June day when O’Riley and McLaughlin made their great strike and the beginning of the rise of Tom Peasley, the Comstock had grown to a town of nearly 20,000, with a city government, the finest fire department for a community of that size in the world, large fire-proof brick-and-stone buildings, and many rich mines, employing thousands of men. It had three dailies, on one of which the “Territorial Enterprise,’””> Mark Twain was working as a reporter. The editors wrote what were known as slashing arti- cles, and every now and then fought a duel in which one or the other was seriously wounded. Everybody was getting rich, or in process of getting rich, or had hopes of getting rich; money and whisky flowed like water; saloons and gambling houses were going night and day; happiness, hope, and excitement filled the air. The town was six thousand feet above the level of the sea, the rarefied atmosphere was highly stimulating to the young and nervy men who thronged its streets, and when to the wine of that mountain air was added a more substantial stimulation, the spirit of CoMmiclbook WY) CO =