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American Detective Fiction    Prior to July 1891

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  Published in
The New York Ledger, August 28, 1858
 
A Sick Robber;
And How Tim Cured Him

by Sylvanus Cobb, Jr

  “That’s a great place for murders and robberies,” I remarked, as I threw the paper down.

“Yes—’tis,” said Tim. “But I can tell you one thing: When they catch one of the villains, they make ’im suffer. I tell ye, a man stands on his own merits there.”
 
“But a great many villains escape,” I added.

“True,” he replied, “for they have more chance than they do here. But once in awhile a chap gets jerked up when he least expects it. I caught one once—about a year ago—and he was strung up without much ceremony. He was tried; but they wasn’t long in convicting him.”

“How did you catch him?” I asked.

“I’ll tell ye,” said Tim. He knocked the ashes from his pipe; then picked out an easier seat upon the bank; and then commenced:

“About two years ago I took a notion to go to Texas. I landed at Galveston, where I staid . . .

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Find the full text here.

   


 

 

 

 

    Tim Benson was a brave, kind-hearted man, and had seen much of the world, and been mixed up some in adventurous affairs. I lost sight of him when I left our native village, and shortly after that he wandered off to the Far West. Not long since Tim called upon me. I did not know him at first, for he had grown stout and dark, and his coarse hair had many a silver touch upon it. But I found him to be the same warm, genial friend as of old, and I enjoyed the week through which his visit extended very much. One day we went out upon our old trout stream, with our poles upon our shoulders, and our dinners in our pockets; and when it came noon we sat down under some shady trees upon the bank, and eat our meal. After the last crumb had been disposed of, and Tim had lighted his pipe, I picked up the old newspaper in which the “grub” had been done up, and glanced my eyes over its columns. I saw an account of a murder in Missouri, and read it aloud to my companion.    

 

 

 
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