Soon after the above incident, I went one night about 9 o’clock to call
for my wife, who was visiting some friends near McGoffin’s place. As I
walked unarmed and with my overcoat thrown over my shoulder, I heard and
saw a man walking suspiciously behind me, and determined to watch him,
but as he followed a different street at a junction I dismissed him from
my mind. Suddenly he sprang from the bushes about fifteen feet from the
road, with a very large pistol directed at me, and the following
dialogue ensued:
He—“Halt! Your money or your life.”
I—“My friend, I haven’t a damn cent.”
He—“Er, er. Hold up your hands.”