Three houses now in this colony, joining Indian Territory. Mine was
first; then a Frenchman came and used my well and corral, etc., till
he got settled half a mile away; and another is being put up for a
store. One foggy night, or morning rather (1 A. M.), some one woke me,
rapping on the door. As I was alone and one did not expect people, or
open the door after dark without knowing what is on the other side, I
asked and a woman's voice answered; opened and there was Buchaton's
wife with two small children. They had found the house luckily after
two hours in the fog. Her man had been doing something with the stove
and had words with an Argentino and friend. The Argentino started
for him with his knife but the wife got it and threw it away (man
was a little drunk). He picked it up again and killed the Frenchman;
then they tied him up with a lasso (the woman had run out with the
children), got their horses, and left. Some of us got horses and went
to the house but the man was dead; there was a trail in the wet grass
in the moonlight but we never caught them as they changed horses and
got over the line into another state.
[Illustration: Acclimatizing Fever--Shanghai.]
[Illustration: Oil Springs Typhoid--Canada.]