Democratic Sentinel, Volume 19, Number 39, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 October 1895 — LOST HIS NERVE. [ARTICLE]

LOST HIS NERVE.

After This Affair Wild Jim Waa ■ Changed Man. A score of us saw the man as he came cantering into the frontUr town on his cayuse, aad more than one remarked how singular it was that he was unarmed. He hitched his horse to a post In front of the Big Elk saloon, and bad just disappeared within the door of the shanty when a man came running up and exclaimed: •‘Boys, that's the sheriff over at Deadwood. and he's come for Wild Jim!” t\’e crowded into the saloon to see what would happen. There were five men playing poker at one table and three at another. One of the men was Wild Jim, who was wanted for murder. On entering the place the sheriff had backed up against the bar and faced the players. Wild Jim had leaped to his feet and pulled a gun with either hand, and the other players leaned back and looked around to see what was going on. “After me, Joe,” queried Wild Jim as he stood with guns presented. “Yes'’

“Going to take me dead or alive ?” “Yea.” “You can’t take me alive, and if you move a hand I’ll drop you!” The sheriff smiled and looked around the room and back at Wild Jim and queried: “How does the game stand, Jim ?” “I've just dealt a hand.” “All right—finish it.” " Wild Jim sat down and took five minutes to play out the hand. Then he looked up and said: “Sure you want me, Joe ?” “Dog sure.” “Jest come for me ?J' “Jest for you.”* “Then I’m goin’ to kill you where you stand I” He raised the gun in his right hand and blazed away, firing six shots as fast as his finger could pull trigger. The sheriff never moved. When the smoke had roiled out of the open door and we could see him he stood in the same position and his face wore the same smile. One bullet had burned his cheek—a second had grazed his ear—a third had cut through his shirt collar under the left ear. Wild Jim was a dead shot, and yet he had missed his mau at fifteen feet.

“Got through, Jim?” asked the sheriff, breaking a silence that was positively painful. “And you—you are not heeled!” gasped Jim as his arm sunk slowly down. “No—come on 1” "You didn't bring your guns?” “No. If yop are through shooting we’ll go?” Jim laid his two guns down on the table before him and walked to the door and out into the street. His horse was tied to a post a block away. He reached the horse, mounted, and then headed down the long street after the sheriff, who was giving him not the slightest attention. In live minutes the pair were out of sight. “What ailed Jim?” I asked of the barkeeper, who had come to the door of the saloon. “Lost his nerve,” he brusquelyjreplied. “How do you mean?” “ Why, the sheriff coming without a gun and standing there to be shot at took all his sand away and made a woman of him.” “Suppose the sheriff had had a gun?” The man jerked his head toward the field wherein fifteen or twenty victims had been buried and said: “ He’d a-bin over tliar’ 1 ” “ And will Wild Jim get clear? ” “ Likely, but he’ll liev to leave here. The boys hev already put him u'xw'o as N. G. ” Ac his trial for murder in Deadwood Wild Jim was discharged from custody, but he went forth a changed man. No man took him by the hand —all men avoided him. Two weeks later he was found dead in Custer City—a victim of suicide.