A Cat Story

May I add to your animal stories a striking instance of that spirit of jealousy which insists on all or none? writes a reader of the London Spectator. I had a cat which had long been an inmate of the house and received all the attentions which it is well known old maids lavish on such animáis. Finding the mice were more than one cat could attend to, I secured a kitten and wished to keep the two. My cat was indignant and in very plain language requested the kitten to go. I endeavored to make peace, lifted both on to the table and expostulated with puss. She listened with a sullen expression and then suddenly gaye a claw at the kitten's eye. I scolded and beat her, upon which she left the house and I never saw her again. It has often been note'l b those favored men who, in traveling about tiie west, made the acquaintance oí some famous killers, that the killer was always quietly and soberly reserved a'tout the homicides he had oommitted and never cared to ti.lk about them, ssya the Washington Post. Charles B-issett. who has great renown in t'ie southwest as a gun-fighter and a game man, is no exception to the rule. It chanced that all of Bassett's killings were on the side of pubiic order and occurred while he was an officer of the law. Por several years Bassett was marshal of Dodge City. Bat Masterson was Bassett's deputy. It happened more than once in straigfctening out the destinies of Dodge that Bassett was caHed on to shoot - a ceremony whereiu he was always careful to aim low, with gratifying results. When Luke Short -who afterward killed Jim Courtwright, a Texas desperado - was run out of Dodge, Bassett was the flrst man he came to in seeking help to put him back. Having secured Bassett, Luke Short gathered about him an array which had a record for rooi nerve and quick, sure work with a Colt's pistol that would be hard to duplícate. Short was escorted back to Dodge by Bassett, Bat Masterson, Wyatt Earp, Bill Earp, Virgil Earp, Doe Holliday, Curly Bill, Shotgun Collins and others, who, as stark, indomitable fighters, had as much fame in their country as ever had the Black Douglass or Bruce or Wallace in his. But as to the solemn reticence of those killers when touched on as to their bloody deeds: Bassett is and has been for years, the manager of a resort in Kansas City. One winter night Bassett and several others were standing near the big stove, drinking and defying the weather. The talk had drifted to the winter days of Dodge City, when Jack Nuckols sudde-nly spoke up with: "By the way, Charlie, you killed several men at Dodge City, didn't you?" A look of pain and uneasiness cams across Bassett's face like a cloud. He was staggered and worriad and showed it. A profound silence feil upon the several men present and Nuckols began to grow embarrassed. For full hali a minute Bassett looked at the questioner without saying a word. Then, as if a thought had come to him that he knew he was safe to act on, he helped himself to a drink of whisky all alone. When he returned he backed up to the stove, and, surveying Nuckols, suid, in a mild, inquiring tone: "Well, if I did it was right." Nuckols hastened .to assure him that no one harbored a doubt on that point and the subject was politely changed. Afterward one of the onlookers remarked: "You can bet it bothered Bassett when it drove him to drinking whisky by himself. Fll bet two to one that's the first drink Bassett's taken alone in twenty years."