“‘Go on, what yer givin’ us?’ said the man who had halted the execution; ‘He says he’s a doctor, boys’. “‘Here, let’s have a look at that feller,’ cried a voice from somewhere in the crowd. A man pressed forward and confronted me. “‘Gimme that lantern.’ “The lantern was handed to him, and holding it close to my face he looked at me earnestly for a moment. I in turn, as you may surmise, stared quite as hard at him. We recognized each other simultaneously! “‘Dan Williams,’ I stammered weakly, recognizing an old patient of mine, a railroad hand whose leg I had saved after it had been condemned to amputation. “‘Good God! Doc. Fairweather, is that you?’ “I was saved! I shall always believe that the majority of the mob felt aggrieved at both Dan and myself by the mutual recognition that had saved my life by such a narrow margin. The rope was dropped, however, albeit grudgingly, and my neck released from its gruesome embrace. “Dan impressed several of his friends into service and I was taken to the nearest house and temporarily cared for as well as possible under my own rather wabbly and uncertain direction, whilst I told my story as best I could in my pitiful condition. “It was several days before I could be moved, a local physician meanwhile ministering to me with more devotion than surgical skill. You may imagine how happy I was to learn that my head was so hard that it had not been feazed by a 45 calibre conical ball. The bullet had entered my head at the left temple, glancing around the skull, plowing a huge furrow in the scalp and cutting a groove in the outer table of the bone along which it left a trail of lead clear around to the occiput, whence it had been deflected. It was afterward found buried in the wall of the station and sent to me as a souvenir. “After my return home I was seriously ill for several weeks. I finally, however, returned to my practice, a little the worse for wear, but grateful for my hard-headedness. It was some time before my brain worked with its usual alertness, but after a few months I had only the scar to remind me of a most awful experience. * * * * * “And now for the story of the skull: “A strong posse was organized for the pursuit of the murderers and they were soon overtaken, after a running fight some miles north of the scene of the awful tragedy in which I had enacted such an important rôle. “The bandits had entrenched themselves in a deserted farm house, from which they made a desperate fight against their pursuers. Several of the attacking party were killed or wounded. During a lull in the fighting the smaller of the two desperados deserted his comrade, escaped from the house, and ran for the timber. A clever chap who had secreted himself in the woods at the rear of the house in anticipation of some such move on the part of the murderers, received him with a huge charge of buckshot from both barrels of a shot gun fired at close range, killing him instantly.