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 then, when the tragedy was played out, as it seemed, the tragedy began. For Ben Williams, after his victory, lost his self-control. He had been tried, and tried high, and now broke down into the desire to kill. He knew, and none knew better, how near a thing it had been. But for the lamp which shone more upon his opponent than on himself he might have been crawling in the dust. He saw the Colonel and fell into a bloody rage.

"You old dog, you fetched him here for me," said Ben, and there was running slaver on his lips. The crowd parted suddenly like a divided wave. I was ten yards from the old Colonel, and saw him standing upright like a man. He threw his hat upon the dusty road.

"Shoot me, then, you hound," he said. And even as he spoke Ben's pistol cracked, and the men about us groaned. I saw the old Colonel fall, and even as he fell, and almost before he touched the ground, I saw Bob White run to the barrel by the store. From it he took the bright head of a four-and-a-half pound axe, and he threw it straight at Ben