“Oh, he's killed him, he's killed him!”  The crowd closed up around them, and shouldered and jammed one another, with their necks stretched, trying to see, and people on the inside trying to shove them back and shouting, “Back, back! give him air, give him air!” Colonel Sherburn he tossed his pistol on to the ground, and turned around on his heels and walked off. They took Boggs to a little drug store, the crowd pressing around just the same, and the whole town following, and I rushed and got a good place at the window, where I was close to him and could see in.  They laid him on the floor and put one large Bible under his head, and opened another one and spread it on his breast; but they tore open his shirt first, and I seen where one of the bullets went in.  He made about a dozen long gasps, his breast lifting the Bible up when he drawed in his breath, and letting it down again when he breathed it out--and after that he laid still; he was dead.  Then they pulled his daughter away from him, screaming and crying, and took her off.  She was about sixteen, and very sweet and gentle looking, but awful pale and scared. Well, pretty soon the whole town was there, squirming and scrouging and pushing and shoving to get at the window and have a look, but people that had the places wouldn't give them up, and folks behind them was saying all the time, “Say, now, you've looked enough, you fellows; 'tain't right and 'tain't fair for you to stay thar all the time, and never give nobody a chance; other folks has their rights as well as you.” There was considerable jawing back, so I slid out, thinking maybe there was going to be trouble.  The streets was full, and everybody was excited. Everybody that seen the shooting was telling how it happened, and there was a big crowd packed around each one of these fellows, stretching their necks and listening.  One long, lanky man, with long hair and a big white fur stovepipe hat on the back of his head, and a crooked-handled cane, mar