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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOLFVILLE DAYS ***
+The Project Gutenberg Etext of Wolfville Days, by Alfred Henry Lewis
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+Title: Wolfville Days
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+Author: Alfred Henry Lewis
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+Release Date: January, 2003  [Etext #3667]
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+[The actual date this file first posted = 07/10/01]
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+Language: English
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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of Wolfville Days, by Alfred Henry Lewis
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+
+Wolfville Days
+
+
+by Alfred Henry Lewis
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+The Great Wolfville Strike.
+
+"No, sir, even onder spur an' quirt, my mem'ry can only canter back
+to one uprisin' of labor in Wolfville; that was printers."
+
+At this the Old Cattleman looked unduly sagacious, refreshed himself
+with a puff or two at his pipe, and all with the air of one who
+might, did he see fit, consider the grave questions of capital and
+labor with an ability equal to their solution. His remark was growth
+of the strike story of some mill workmen, told glaringly in the
+newspaper he held in his hands.
+
+"Wolfville is not at that time," he continued, "what you-all East
+would call a swirlin' vortex of trade; still she has her marts.
+Thar's the copper mines, the Bird Cafe Op'ry House, the Red Light,
+the O. K. Restauraw, the Dance Hall, the New York Store an' sim'lar
+hives of commerce. Which ondoubted the barkeeps is the hardest
+worked folks in camp, an' yet none of 'em ever goes on the warpath
+for shorter hours or longer pay, so far as I has notice. Barkeeps
+that a-way is a light-hearted band an' cheerful onder their burdens.
+Once when Old Monte brings the stage in late because of some boggin'
+down he does over at a quicksand ford in the foothills, a shorthorn
+who arrives with him as a passenger comes edgin' into the Red Light.
+Bein' it's four o'clock in the mornin', the tenderfoot seems amazed
+at sech activities as faro-bank, an' high-ball, said devices bein'
+in full career; to say nothin' of the Dance Hall, which 'Temple of
+Mirth,' as Hamilton who is proprietor tharof names it, is whoopin'
+it up across the street.
+
+"'Ain't you open rather late?' says the shorthorn. His tones is
+apol'getic an' no offence is took.
+
+"That's one of them gratefyin' things about the Southwest. That
+temperate region don't go pirootin' 'round strivin' to run its brand
+onto things as insults where none ain't meant. The Southwest ropes
+only at the intention. You may even go so far as to shoot the wrong
+gent in a darkened way, an' as long as you pulls off the play in a
+sperit of honesty, an' the party plugged don't happen to be a
+pop'lar idol, about the worst you'd get would be a caution from the
+Stranglers to be more acc'rate in your feuds, sech is the
+fairmindedness an' toleration of Southwest sentiment.
+
+"As I su'gests, the barkeep, realizin' that the stranger's bluff
+arises from cur'osity rather than any notion of what booksports
+calls 'captious criticism,' feels no ombrage.
+
+"'What was you-all pleased to remark?' retorts the barkeep as he
+slams his nose-paint where the shorthorn can get action.
+
+"'Nothin',' replies the shorthorn, imbibin' of his forty drops,
+"only it sort o' looks to my onaccustomed eye like this deadfall is
+open rather late."
+
+"'Which she is some late,' admits the barkeep, as he softly swabs
+the counter; 'which it is some late for night before last, but it's
+jest the shank of the evenin' for to-night.'
+
+"But, as I observes a bit back on the trail, I never do hear of any
+murmur of resentment on the part of the toilin' masses of the town,
+save in the one instance when that bunch of locoed printers capers
+out an' defies the editor an' publisher of the Wolfville COYOTE, the
+same bein' the daily paper of the outfit.
+
+"This yere imprint, the COYOTE, is done owned an' run by Colonel
+William Greene Sterett. An' I'll pause right yere for the double
+purpose of takin' a drink an' sympathisin' with you a whole lot in
+not knowin' the Colonel. You nacherally ain't as acootely aware of
+the fact as I be, but you can gamble a bloo stack that not knowin'
+Colonel Sterett borders on a deeprivation. He is shore wise, the
+Colonel is, an' when it comes to bein' fully informed on every
+p'int, from the valyoo of queensup before the draw to the political
+effect of the Declaration of Independence, he's an even break with
+Doc Peets. An' as I've asserted frequent--an' I don't pinch down a
+chip--Doc Peet's is the finest eddicated sharp in Arizona.
+
+"We-all will pass up the tale at this crisis, but I'll tell you
+later about how Colonel Sterett comes a-weavin' into Wolfville that
+time an' founds the Coyote. It's enough now to know that when these
+yere printers takes to ghost-dancin' that time, the Colonel has been
+in our midst crowdin' hard on the hocks of a year, an' is held in
+high regyard by Old Alan Enright, Doc Peets, Jack Moore, Boggs,
+Tutt, Cherokee Hall, Faro Nell, and other molders of local opinion,
+an' sort o' trails in next after Enright an' Peets in public esteem.
+The Colonel is shore listened to an' heeded at sech epocks as
+Wolfville sets down serious to think.
+
+"Them printers of the Colonel's stampedes themse'fs jest followin'
+the latter's misonderstandin' with Huggins, who conducts the Bird
+Cage Op'ry House, an' who as I've allers maintained, incites them
+mechanics, private, to rebellion, as a scheme of revenge on the
+Colonel. The trouble which bears its final froote in this labor
+uprisin' is like this. Huggins, as noted, holds down the Bird Cage
+Op'ry House as manager, an' when lie's drunk--which, seein' that
+Huggins is a bigger sot than Old Monte, is right along he allows
+he's a 'Impressario.' Mebby you saveys 'Impressario,' an'
+experiences no difficulty with the same as a term, but Boggs an'
+Tutt goes to the fringe of a gun play dispootin' about its meanin'
+the time Huggins plays it on the camp first as deescriptif of his
+game.
+
+"'A Impressario is a fiddler,' says Boggs; `I cuts the trail of one
+in the States once, ropes him up, an' we has a shore enough time.'
+
+"'Sech observations,' observes Tutt, to whom Boggs vouchsafes this
+information, 'sech observations make me tired. They displays the
+onlimited ability for ignorance of the hooman mind. Boggs, I don't
+want to be deemed insultin', but you-all oughter go to night-school
+some'ers ontil you learns the roodiments of the American language."
+
+"When this yore colloquy ensooes, I'm away on the spring round-up,
+an' tharfor not present tharat; but as good a jedge as Jack Moore,
+insists that the remainder of the conversation would have come off
+in the smoke if he hadn't, in his capacity of marshal, pulled his
+six-shooter an' invoked Boggs an' Tutt to a ca'mer mood.
+
+"But speakin' of this Huggins party, I never likes him. Aside from
+his bein' mostly drunk, which, no matter what some may say or think,
+I holds impairs a gent's valyoo as a social factor, Huggins is
+avaricious an' dotes on money to the p'int of bein' sordid. He'd
+gloat over a dollar like it was a charlotte roose, Huggins would.
+So, as I says, I ain't fond of Huggins, an' takes no more pleasure
+of his company than if he's a wet dog. Still, thar's sech a thing as
+dooty; so, when Huggins comes wanderin' wild-eyed into the Red Light
+about first drink time one evenin', an' confides to me in a whisper
+that thar's a jack rabbit outside which has sworn to take his life,
+an' is right then bushwhackin' about the door waitin' to execoote
+the threat, I calls Doc Peets, an' aids in tyin' Huggins down so
+that his visions can be met an' coped with medical.
+
+"Peets rides herd on Huggins for about a week, an' at last effects
+his rescoo from that hostile jack rabbit an' them crimson
+rattlesnakes an' blue-winged bats that has j'ined dogs with it in
+its attempts ag'in Huggins. Later, when Peets sends his charges,
+this yere ingrate Huggins--lovin' money as I states--wants to squar'
+it with a quart or two of whiskey checks on the Bird Cage bar.
+Nacherally, Peets waves aside sech ignoble proffers as insults to
+his professional standin'.
+
+"'An' you all don't owe me a splinter, Huggins,' says Peets, as he
+turns down the prop'sition to take whiskey checks as his reward.
+'We'll jest call them services of mine in subdooin' your delirium
+treemors a contreebution. It should shorely be remooneration enough
+to know that I've preserved you to the Wolfville public, an' that
+the camp can still boast the possession of the meanest sport an'
+profoundest drunkard outside of the Texas Panhandle.'
+
+"Bar none, Doc Peets is the bitterest gent, verbal, that ever makes
+a moccasin track in the South-west. An' while Huggins ain't pleased
+none, them strictures has to go. To take to pawin' 'round for
+turmoil with Peets would be encroachin' onto the ediotic. Even if he
+emerges alive from sech controversies--an' it's four to one he
+wouldn't; for Peets, who's allers framed up with a brace of
+derringers, is about as vivid an enterprise as Wolfville affords--
+the Stranglers would convene with Old Man Enright in the cha'r, an'
+Huggins wouldn't last as long as a drink of whiskey. As it is,
+Huggins gulps his feelin's an' offers nothin' in return to Peets's
+remarks.
+
+"No; of course Doc Peets ain't that diffusive in his confidences as
+to go surgin' about tellin' this story to every gent he meets. It's
+ag'in roole for physicians that a-way to go draggin' their lariats
+'round permiscus an' impartin' all they knows. You-all can see
+yourse'f that if physicians is that ingenuous, it would prodooce all
+sorts of troubles in the most onlooked-for places an' most
+onexpected forms. No; Peets wouldn't give way to conduct so
+onbecomin' a medicine man an' a sport. But rooles has their
+exceptions; an so Feets, in one of them moments of sympathy an'
+confidence, which two highly eddicated gents after the eighth drink
+is bound to feel for each other, relates to Colonel Sterett
+concernin' Huggins an' his perfidy with them Bird Cage checks.
+
+"This yere onbosomin' of himse'f to the Colonel ain't none discreet
+of Peets. The Colonel has many excellencies, but keepin' secrets
+ain't among 'em; none whatever. The Colonel is deevoid of talents
+for secrets, an' so the next day he prints this yere outrage onder a
+derisive headline touchin' Huggins' froogality.
+
+"Huggins don't grade over-high for nerve an' is a long way from
+bein' clean strain game; but he figgers, so I allers reckons, that
+the Colonel ain't no thunderbolt of war himse'f, so when he reads as
+to him an' Peets an' them treemors an' the whiskey checks, he starts
+in to drink an' discuss about his honor, an' gives it out he'll have
+revenge.
+
+"It's the barkeep at the Red Light posts Colonel Sterett as to them
+perils. A Mexican comes trackin' along into the Colonel's room in
+the second story--what he calls his 'sanctum'--with a note. It's
+from the barkeep an' reads like this:
+
+RED LIGHT SALOON.
+
+DEAR COLONEL:--
+
+Huggins is in here tankin' up an' makin' war medicine. He's packin'
+two guns. He says he's going to plug you for that piece. I can keep
+him here an hour. Meanwhile, heel yourse'f. I'll have him so drunk
+by the time he leaves that he ought to be easy.
+
+Yours sincerely,
+BLACK JACK.
+
+P. S. Better send over to the Express Company for one of them shot-
+guns. Buckshot, that a-way, is a cinch; an' if you're a leetle
+nervous it don't make no difference. B. J.
+
+"About the time the 10-gauge comes over to the Colonel, with the
+compliments of the Wells-Fargo Express, an' twenty shells holdin'
+twenty-one buck-shot to the shell, Doc Peets himse'f comes
+sa'nterin' into the sanctum.
+
+"'You-all ought never to have printed it, Colonel,' says Peets; 'I'm
+plumb chagrined over that exposure of Huggins.'
+
+"'Don't you reckon, Doc,' says the Colonel, sort o' coaxin' the
+play, 'if you was to go down to the Red Light an' say to this
+inebriated miscreant that you makes good, it would steady him down a
+whole lot?'
+
+"'If I was to take sech steps as you urges, Colonel,' says Peets,
+'it would come out how I gives away the secrets of my patients; it
+would hurt my p'sition. On the level! Colonel, I'd a mighty sight
+sooner you'd beef Huggins.'
+
+"'But see yere, Doc,' remonstrates the Colonel, wipin' off the water
+on his fore'ead, 'murder is new to me, an' I shrinks from it.
+Another thing--I don't thirst to do no five or ten years at
+Leavenworth for downin' Huggins, an' all on account of you declinin'
+whiskey chips as a honorarium for them services.'
+
+"'It ain't no question of Leavenworth,' argues Peets; 'sech thoughts
+is figments. Yere's how it'll be. Huggins comes chargin' up,
+hungerin' for blood. You-all is r'ared back yere with that 10-gauge,
+all organized, an' you coldly downs him. Thar ain't no jury, an'
+thar ain't no Vigilance Committee, in Arizona, who's goin' to carp
+at that a little bit. Besides, he's that ornery, the game law is out
+on Huggins an' has been for some time. As for any resk to yourse'f,
+personal, from Huggins; why! Colonel, you snaps your fingers tharat.
+You hears Huggins on the stairs; an' you gives him both barrels the
+second he shows in the door. It's as plain as monte. Before Huggins
+can declar' himse'f, Colonel, he's yours, too dead to skin. It's
+sech a shore thing,' concloodes Peets, 'that, after all, since
+you're merely out for safety, I'd get him in the wing, an' let it go
+at that. Once his arm is gone, it won't be no trouble to reason with
+Huggins.'
+
+"'Don't talk to me about no arms,' retorts the Colonel, still
+moppin' his feachers plenty desperate. 'I ain't goin' to do no fancy
+shootin'. If Huggins shows up yere, you can put down a yellow stack
+on it, I'll bust him where he looks biggest. Huggins is goin' to
+take all the chances of this embroglio.'
+
+"But Huggins never arrives. It's Dan Boggs who abates him an'
+assoomes the pressure for the Colonel. Boggs is grateful over some
+compliments the Colonel pays him in the Coyote the week previous.
+It's right in the midst of Huggins' prep'rations for blood that
+Boggs happens up on him in the Red Light.
+
+"'See yere, Huggins,' says Boggs, as soon as ever he gets the
+Impressario's grievance straight in his mind, 'you-all is followin'
+off the wrong wagon track. The Colonel ain't your proper prey at
+all; it's me. I contreebutes that piece in the Coyote about you
+playin' it low on Peets myse'f.'
+
+"Huggins gazes at Boggs an' never utters a word; Boggs is too many
+for him.
+
+"'Which I'm the last sport,' observes Boggs after a pause, `to put a
+limit on the reccreations or meddle with the picnics of any gent,
+but this yere voylence of yours, Huggins, has gone too far. I'm
+obleeged to say, tharfore, that onless you aims to furnish the
+painful spectacle of me bendin' a gun over your head, you had better
+sink into silence an' pull your freight. I'm a slow, hard team to
+start, Huggins,' says Boggs, 'but once I goes into the collar, I'm
+irresist'ble.'
+
+"Huggins don't know much, but he knows Boggs; an' so, followin'
+Boggs' remarks, Huggins ups an' ceases to clamor for the Colonel
+right thar. Lambs is bellig'rent compared with Huggins. The barkeep,
+in the interests of peace, cuts in on the play with the news that
+the drinks is on the house, an' with that the eepisode comes to a
+close.
+
+"Now you-all has most likely begun to marvel where them labor
+struggles comes buttin' in. We're within ropin' distance now. It's
+not made cl'ar, but, as I remarks prior, I allers felt like Huggins
+is the bug onder the chip when them printers gets hostile that time
+an' leaves the agency. Huggins ain't feeble enough mental to believe
+for a moment Boggs writes that piece. The fact that Boggs can't even
+write his own name--bein' onfortunately wantin' utterly in
+eddication--is of itse'f enough to breed doubts. Still, I don't
+ondervalue Huggins none in layin' down to Boggs, that time Boggs
+allows he's the author. With nothin' at stake more than a fact, an'
+no money up nor nothin', he shorely wouldn't be jestified in
+contendin' with a gent of Boggs' extravagant impulses, an' who is
+born with the theery that six-shooters is argyments.
+
+"But, as I was observin', Huggins is no more misled by them bluffs
+of Boggs than he is likely to give up his thoughts of revenge on the
+Colonel. Bein' headed off from layin' for the Colonel direct--for
+Boggs reminds him at closin' that, havin' asserted his personal
+respons'bility for that piece, he'll take it as affronts if Huggins
+persists in goin' projectin' 'round for Colonel Sterett--thar's no
+doubt in my mind that Huggins goes to slyin' about, an' jumpin'
+sideways at them printers on the quiet, an fillin' 'em up with nose-
+paint an' notions that they're wronged in equal quantities. An'
+Huggins gets results.
+
+"Which the Colonel pays off his five printers every week. It's mebby
+the second Saturday after the Huggins trouble, an' the Colonel is
+jest finished measurin' up the 'strings,' as he calls 'em, an'
+disbursin' the dinero. At the finish, the head-printer stiffens up,
+an' the four others falls back a pace an' looks plenty hard.
+
+"'Colonel,' says the head-printer, 'we-all sends on to the national
+council, wins out a charter, an' organizes ourse'fs into a union.
+You're yereby notified we claims union wages, the same bein' forty-
+five centouse a thousand ems from now ontil further orders.'
+
+"'Jim,' retorts the Colonel, 'what you an' your noble assistants
+demands at my hands, goes. From now I pays the union schedoole, the
+same bein' five cents a thousand ems more than former. The Coyote as
+yet is not self-supportin', but that shall not affect this play. I
+have so far made up deeficiencies by draw-poker, which I finds to be
+fairly soft an' certain in this camp, an' your su'gestions of a
+raise merely means that I've got to set up a leetle later in a game,
+an' be a trifle more remorseless on a shore hand. Wharfore I yields
+to your requests with pleasure, as I says prior.'
+
+"It's mighty likely Colonel Sterett acquiesces in them demands too
+quick; the printers is led to the thought that he's as simple to
+work as a Winchester. It's hooman nature to brand as many calves as
+you can, an' so no one's surprised when, two weeks later, them
+voracious printers comes frontin' up for more. The head-printer
+stiffens up, an' the four others assoomes eyes of iron, same as
+before, an' the pow wow re-opens as follows:
+
+"'Colonel,' says the range boss for the printers, while the others
+stands lookin' an' listenin' like cattle with their y'ears all
+for'ard, 'Colonel, the chapel's had a meetin', an' we-all has
+decided that you've got to make back payments at union rates for the
+last six months, which is when we sends back to the States for that
+charter. The whole throw is twelve hundred dollars, or two hundred
+and forty a gent. No one wants to crowd your hand, Colonel, an' if
+you don't jest happen to have said twelve hundred in your war-bags,
+we allows you one week to jump 'round an' rustle it.'
+
+"But the Colonel turns out bad, an' shows he can protect himse'f at
+printin' same as he can at poker. He whirls on them sharps like a
+mountain lion.
+
+"'Gents,' says the Colonel, 'you-all is up ag'inst it. I don't care
+none if the cathedral's had a meetin', I declines to bow to your
+claims. As I states before, I obtains the money to conduct this yere
+journal by playin' poker. Now I can't play no ex post facto poker,
+nor get in on any rectroactive hands, which of itse'f displays your
+attitoode on this o'casion as onjust. What you-all asks is
+refoosed.'
+
+"'See yere, Colonel,' says the head-printer, beginnin' to arch his
+back like he's goin' to buck some, 'don't put on no spurs to
+converse with us; an' don't think to stampede us none with them
+Latin bluffs you makes. You either pays union rates since February,
+or we goes p'intin' out for a strike.'
+
+"'Strike!' says the Colonel, an' his tones is decisive, 'strike,
+says you! Which if you-all will wait till I gets my coat, I'll
+strike with you.'
+
+"Tharupon the entire passel, the Colonel an' them five printers,
+comes over to the Red Light, takes a drink on the Colonel, an'
+disperses themse'fs on the strike. Of course Wolfville looks on some
+amazed at this yere labor movement, but declar's itse'f nootral.
+
+"'Let every gent skin his own eel,' says Enright; 'the same bein' a
+fav'rite proverb back in Tennessee when I'm a yooth. This collision
+between Colonel Sterett an' them free an' independent printers he
+has in his herd is shorely what may be called a private game. Thar's
+no reason an' no call for the camp to be heard. What's your idea,
+Doc?'
+
+"'I yoonites with you in them statements,' says Peets. 'While my
+personal symp'thies is with Colonel Sterett in this involvement, as
+yet the sityooation offers no reason for the public to saddle up an'
+go to ridin' 'round tharin.'
+
+"'Don't you-all think,' says Boggs, appealin' to Enright, 'don't you
+reckon now if me an' Tutt an' Jack Moore, all casooal like, was to
+take our guns an' go cuttin' up the dust about the moccasins of them
+malcontent printers--merely in our private capacity, I means--it
+would he'p solve this yere deadlock a whole lot?' Boggs is a heap
+headlong that a-way, an' likin' the Colonel, nacherally he's eager
+to take his end.
+
+"'Boggs,' replies Enright, an' his tones is stern to the verge of
+being ferocious; 'Boggs, onless you wants the law-abidin' element to
+hang you in hobbles, you had better hold yourse'f in more
+subjection. Moreover, what you proposes is childish. If you was to
+appear in the midst of this industr'al excitement, an' take to
+romancin' 'round as you su'gests, you'd chase every one of these
+yere printers plumb off the range. Which they'd hit a few high
+places in the landscape an' be gone for good. Then the Colonel never
+could get out that Coyote paper no more. Let the Colonel fill his
+hand an' play it his own way. I'll bet, an' go as far as you like,
+that if we-all turns our backs on this, an' don't take to pesterin'
+either side, the Colonel has them parties all back in the corral
+ag'in inside of a week.'
+
+"Old Man Enright is right, same as he ever is. It's about fourth
+drink time in the evenin' of the second day. Colonel Sterett, who's
+been consoomin' his licker at intervals not too long apart, is
+seated in the Red Light in a reelaxed mood. He's sayin' to Boggs,
+who has been faithful at his elbow from the first, so as to keep up
+his sperits, that he looks on this strike as affordin' him a much-
+needed rest.
+
+"'An' from the standp'int of rest, Dan,' observes the Colonel to
+Boggs as the barkeep brings them fresh glasses, 'I really welcomes
+this difference with them blacksmiths of mine. I shorely needs this
+lay-off; literatoor that a-way, Dan, an' partic'lar daily paper
+literatoor of the elevated character I've been sawin' off on this
+camp in the Coyote, is fa-tiguin' to the limit. When them misguided
+parties surrenders their absurd demands--an' between us, Dan, I
+smells Huggins in this an' expects to lay for him later tharfor--I
+say, when these obtoose printers gives up, an' returns to their
+'llegiance, I'll assoome the tripod like a giant refreshed.'
+
+"'That's whatever!' says Boggs, coincidin' with the Colonel, though
+he ain't none shore as to his drift.
+
+"'I'll be recooperated,' continues the Colonel, sloppin' out another
+drink; 'I'll be a new man when I takes hold ag'in, an' will make the
+Coyote, ever the leadin' medium of the Southwest, as strong an'
+invincible as four kings an' a ace.'
+
+"It's at this p'int the five who's on the warpath comes into the Red
+Light. The head-printer, lookin' apol'getic an' dejected, j'ins
+Boggs an' the Colonel where they sits.
+
+"'Colonel,' observes the head-printer, 'the chapel's had another
+meetin'; an' the short an' the long is, the boys kind o' figger
+they're onjust in them demands for back pay--sort o' overplays their
+hands, They've decided, Colonel, that you're dead right; an' I'm
+yere now to say we're sorry, an' we'll all go back an' open up an'
+get the Coyote out ag'in in old-time form.'
+
+"'Have a drink, Jim,' says the Colonel, an' his face has a cloud of
+regrets onto it; 'take four fingers of this red-eye an' cheer up.
+You-all assoomes too sombre a view of this contention.'
+
+"'I'm obleeged to you, Colonel,' replies the head-printer; 'but I
+don't much care to drink none before the boys. They ain't got no
+bank-roll an' no credit like you has, Colonel--that's what makes
+them see their errors--an' the plain trooth is they ain't had
+nothin' to drink for twenty-four hours. That's why I don't take
+nothin'. It would shore seem invidious for me to be settin' yere
+h'istin' in my nose-paint, an' my pore comrades lookin' he'plessly
+on; that's whatever! I'm too much a friend of labor to do it,
+Colonel.'
+
+"'What!' says Boggs, quite wrought up; 'do you-all mean to tell me
+them onhappy sports ain't had a drink since yesterday? It's a stain
+on the camp! Whoopee, barkeep! see what them gents will have; an'
+keep seein' what they'll have endoorin' this conference.'
+
+"'Jim,' says the Colonel, mighty reluctant, 'ain't you-all
+abandonin' your p'sition prematoor? Thar's somethin' doo to a
+principle, Jim. I'd rather looked for a continyooation of this
+estrangement for a while at least. I'd shore take time to consider
+it before ever I'd let this strike c'llapse.'
+
+"'That's all right, Colonel,' says the head-printer, 'about
+c'llapsin'; an' I onderstands your feelin's an' symp'thises
+tharwith. But I've explained to you the financial condition of this
+movement. Thar stands the boys, pourin' in the first fire-water that
+has passed their lips for a day. An' you knows, Colonel, no gent,
+nor set of gents, can conduct strikes to a successful issue without
+whiskey.'
+
+"'But, Jim,' pleads the Colonel, who hates to come off his vacation,
+'if I fixes the Red Light say for fifteen drinks all 'round each
+day, don't you reckon you can prevail on them recalcitrant printers
+to put this reeconciliation off a week?'
+
+"However, Enright, who at this p'int comes trailin' in, takes up the
+head-printer's side, an' shows the Colonel it's his dooty.
+
+"'You owes it to the Wolfville public, Colonel,' says Enright. 'The
+Coyote has now been suppressed two days. We-all has been deprived of
+our daily enlightenment an' our intellects is boggin' down. For two
+entire days Wolfville has been in darkness as to worldly events, an'
+is right now knockin' 'round in the problem of existence like a
+blind dog in a meat shop. Your attitoode of delay, Colonel, is
+impossible; the public requests your return. If you ain't back at
+the Coyote office to-morry mornin' by second drink time, dealin'
+your wonted game, I wouldn't ondertake to state what shape a jest
+pop'lar resentment will assoome.'
+
+"'An', of course,' observes the Colonel with a sigh, 'when you-all
+puts it in that loocid an' convincin' way, Enright, thar's no more
+to be said. The strike is now over an' the last kyard dealt. Jim,
+you an' me an' them printers will return to the vineyard of our
+efforts. This over-work may be onderminin' me, but Wolfville shall
+not call to me in vain.'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+The Grinding of Dave Tutt.
+
+
+"Yes," said the Old Cattleman, as he took off his sombrero and
+contemplated the rattlesnake band which environed the crown, "cow-
+punchers is queer people. They needs a heap of watchin' an' herdin'.
+I knowed one by the name of Stevenson down on the Turkey Track, as
+merits plenty of lookin' after. This yere Stevenson ain't exactly
+ornery; but bein' restless, an' with a disp'sition to be emphatic
+whenever he's fillin' himse'f up, keepin' your eye on him is good,
+safe jedgment. He is public-sperited, too, an' sometimes takes lots
+of pains to please folks an' be pop'lar.
+
+"I recalls once when we're bringin' up a beef herd from the
+Panhandle country. We're ag'in the south bank of the Arkansaw,
+tryin' to throw the herd across. Thar's a bridge, but the natifs
+allows it's plenty weak, so we're makin' the herd swim. Steve is
+posted at the mouth of the bridge, to turn back any loose cattle
+that takes a notion to try an' cross that a-way. Thar's nothin' much
+to engage Steve's faculties, an' he's a-settin' on his bronco, an'
+both is mighty near asleep. Some women people--from the far East, I
+reckons--as is camped in town, comes over on the bridge to see us
+cross the herd. They've lined out clost up to Steve, a-leanin' of
+their young Eastern chins on the top rail.
+
+"'Which I don't regyard this much,' says one young woman; 'thar's no
+thrill into it. Whyever don't they do somethin' excitin'?'
+
+"Steve observes with chagrin that this yere lady is displeased; an',
+as he can't figger nothin' else out quick to entertain her, he gives
+a whoop, slams his six-shooter off into the scenery, socks his spurs
+into the pony, an' hops himse'f over the side of the bridge a whole
+lot into the shallow water below. The jump is some twenty feet an'
+busts the pony's laigs like toothpicks; also it breaks Steve's
+collarbone an' disperses his feachers 'round some free an' frightful
+on account of his sort o' lightin' on his face.
+
+"Well, we shoots the pony; an' Steve rides in the grub wagon four or
+five days recooperatin'. It's jest the mercy of hell he don't break
+his neck.
+
+"'Whatever do you jump off for?' I asks Steve when he's comin'
+'round.
+
+"'Which I performs said equestrianisms to amoose that she-shorthorn
+who is cussin' us out.' says Steve 'I ain't permittin' for her to go
+back to the States, malignin' of us cow-men.'
+
+"Steve gets himse'f downed a year after, an' strikes out for new
+ranges in the skies. He's over on the upper Red River when he gets
+creased. He's settin' into a poker game.
+
+"Steve never oughter gambled none. He is a good cow-boy--splendid
+round-up hand--an' can do his day's work with rope or iron in a
+brandin' pen with anybody; but comin' right to cases, he don't know
+no more about playin' poker than he does about preachin'. Actooally,
+he'd back two pa'r like thar's no record of their bein' beat. This
+yere, of course, leads to frequent poverty, but it don't confer no
+wisdom on Steve.
+
+"On this o'casion, when they ships Steve for the realms of light,
+one of the boys gets a trey-full; Steve being possessed of a heart
+flush, nine at the head. In two minutes he don't have even his
+blankets left.
+
+"After he's broke, Steve h'ists in a drink or two an' sours 'round a
+whole lot; an' jest as the trey-full boy gets into his saddle, Steve
+comes roamin' along up an' hails him.
+
+"'Pard,' says Steve, a heap gloomy, 'I've been tryin' to school
+myse'f to b'ar it, but it don't go. Tharfore, I'm yere to say you
+steals that pa'r of kings as completed my rooin. Comin' to them
+decisions, I'm goin' to call on you for that bric-a-brac I lose, an'
+I looks to gain some fav'rable replies.'
+
+"'Oh, you do, do you!' says the trey-full boy. 'Which you-all is a
+heap too sanguine. Do you reckon I gives up the frootes of a trey-
+full--as hard a hand to hold as that is? You can go ten to one I
+won't: not this round-up! Sech requests is preepost'rous!'
+
+"'Don't wax flippant about this yere robbery, says Steve. 'It's
+enough to be plundered without bein' insulted by gayeties. Now, what
+I says is this: Either I gets my stuff, or I severs our relations
+with a gun.' An' tharupon Steve pulls his pistol an' takes hold of
+the trey-full boy's bridle. "'If thar's one thing makes me more
+weary than another,' says the trey-full boy, 'it's a gun play; an'
+to avoid sech exhibitions I freely returns your plunder. But you an'
+me don't play kyards no more.'
+
+"Whereupon, the trey-full boy gets off his hoss, an' Steve, allowin'
+the debate is closed, puts up his gun. Steve is preematoor. The next
+second, 'bang!' goes the trey-full boy's six-shooter, the bullet
+gets Steve in the neck, with them heavenly results I yeretofore
+onfolds, an' at first drink time that evenin' we has a hasty but
+successful fooneral.
+
+"'I don't reckon,' says Wat Peacock, who is range boss, 'thar's need
+of havin' any law-suits about this yere killin'. I knows Steve for
+long an' likes him. But I'm yere to announce that them idees he
+fosters concerinin' the valyoo of poker hands, onreasonable an'
+plumb extrav'gant as they shorely is, absolootely preeclooded
+Steve's reachin' to old age. An' Steve has warnin's. Once when he
+tries to get his life insured down in Austin, he's refoosed.
+
+"'"In a five-hand game, table stakes, what is a pair of aces worth
+before the draw?" is one of them questions that company asks.
+
+"'"Table stakes?" says Steve. "Every chip you've got."
+
+"'"That settles it, says the company; "we don't want no sech resk.
+Thar never is sech recklessness! You won't live a year; you're lucky
+to be alive right now." An' they declines to insure Steve.'
+
+"However," continued my friend musingly, "I've been puttin' it up to
+myself, that mighty likely I does wrong to tell you these yere
+tales. Which you're ignorant of cow folks, an' for me to go
+onloadin' of sech revelations mebby gives you impressions that's a
+lot erroneous. Now I reckons from that one eepisode you half figgers
+cow people is morose an' ferocious as a bunch?"
+
+As the old gentleman gave his tones the inflection of inquiry, I
+hastened to interpose divers flattering denials. His recitals had
+inspired an admiration for cow men rather than the reverse.
+
+This setting forth of my approval pleased him. He gave me his word
+that I in no sort assumed too much in the matter. Cow men, he
+asserted, were a light-hearted brood; over-cheerful, perhaps, at
+times, and seeking amusement in ways beyond the understanding of the
+East; but safe, upright, and of splendid generosity. Eager to
+correct within me any mal-effects of the tragedy just told, he
+recalled the story of a Tucson day of merry relaxation with Dave
+Tutt. He opined that it furnished a picture of the people of cows in
+lighter, brighter colors, and so gave me details with a sketchy
+gladness.
+
+"Which you're acc'rate in them thoughts," he said, referring to my
+word that I held cow folk to be engaging characters. After elevating
+his spirit with a clove, He went forward. "Thar ain't much paw an'
+bellow to a cowboy. Speakin' gen'ral, an' not allowin' for them
+inflooences which disturbs none--I adverts to mescal an' monte, an'
+sech abnormalities--he's passive an' easy; no more harm into him
+than a jack rabbit.
+
+"Of course he has his moods to be merry, an' mebby thar's hours when
+he's gay to the p'int of over-play. But his heart's as straight as a
+rifle bar'l every time.
+
+"It's a day I puts in with Dave Tutt which makes what these yere
+law-sharps calls 'a case in p'int,' an' which I relates without
+reserve. It gives you some notion of how a cowboy, havin' a leesure
+hour, onbuckles an' is happy nacheral.
+
+"This yere is prior to Dave weddin' Tucson Jennie. I'm pirootin'
+'round Tucson with Dave at the time, Dave's workin' a small bunch of
+cattle, 'way over near the Cow Springs, an' is in Tucson for a rest.
+We've been sloshin' 'round the Oriental all day, findin' new
+virchoos in the whiskey, an' amoosin' ourse'fs at our own expense,
+when about fifth drink time in the evenin' Dave allows he's some
+sick of sech revels, an' concloods he'll p'int out among the 'dobys,
+sort o' explorin' things up a lot. Which we tharupon goes in
+concert.
+
+"I ain't frothin' at the mouth none to go myse'f, not seein'
+reelaxation in pokin' about permiscus among a passel of Mexicans,
+an' me loathin' of 'em from birth; but I goes, aimin' to ride herd
+on Dave. Which his disp'sition is some free an' various; an' bein'
+among Mexicans, that a-way, he's liable to mix himse'f into trouble.
+Not that Dave is bad, none whatever; but bein' seven or eight drinks
+winner, an' of that Oriental whiskey, too, it broadens him an' makes
+him feel friendly, an' deloodes him into claimin' acquaintance with
+people he never does know, an' refoosin' to onderstand how they
+shows symptoms of doubt. So we capers along; Dave warblin' 'The
+Death of Sam Bass' in the coyote key.
+
+"The senoras an' senoritas, hearin' the row, would look out an'
+smile, an' Dave would wave his big hat an' whoop from glee. If he
+starts toward 'em, aimin' for a powwow--which he does frequent,
+bein' a mighty amiable gent that a-way--they carols forth a squawk
+immediate an' shets the door. Dave goes on. Mebby he gives the door
+a kick or two, a-proclaimin' of his discontent.
+
+"All at once, while we're prowlin' up one of them spacious alleys a
+Mexican thinks is a street, we comes up on a Eytalian with a music
+outfit which he's grindin'. This yere music ain't so bad, an' I
+hears a heap worse strains. As soon as Dave sees him he tries to
+figger on a dance, but the 'local talent' declines to dance with
+him.
+
+"'In which event,' says Dave, 'I plays a lone hand."
+
+"So Dave puts up a small dance, like a Navajo, accompanyin' of
+himse'f with outcries same as a Injun. But the Eytalian don't play
+Dave's kind of music, an' the bailee comes to a halt.
+
+"'Whatever is the matter with this yere tune-box, anyhow?' says
+Dave. 'Gimme the music for a green-corn dance, an' don't make no
+delay.' "'This yere gent can't play no green-corn dance,' I says.
+
+"'He can't, can't he?' says Dave; 'wait till he ropes at it once. I
+knows this gent of yore. I meets him two years ago in El Paso; which
+me an' him shorely shakes up that village.'
+
+"'Whatever is his name, then?' I asks.
+
+"'Antonio Marino,' says the Eytalian.
+
+"'Merino?' says Dave; 'that's right. I recalls it, 'cause it makes
+me think at the jump he's a sheep man, an' I gets plumb hostile.'
+
+"'I never sees you,' says the Eytalian.
+
+"'Yes you do,' says Dave; 'you jest think you didn't see me. We
+drinks together, an' goes out an' shoots up the camp, arm an' arm.'
+
+"But the Eytalian insists he never meets Dave. This makes Dave ugly
+a lot, an' before I gets to butt in an' stop it, he outs with his
+six-shooter, an' puts a hole into the music-box.'
+
+"'These yere tunes I hears so far,' says Dave, 'is too frivolous; I
+figgers that oughter sober 'em down a whole lot.'
+
+"When Dave shoots, the Eytalian party heaves the strap of his hewgag
+over his head, an' flies. Dave grabs the music-box, keepin' it from
+fallin', an' then begins turnin' the crank to try it. It plays all
+right, only every now an' then thar's a hole into the melody like
+it's lost a tooth.
+
+"'This yere's good enough for a dog!' says Dave, a-twistin' away on
+the handle. 'Where's this yere Merino? Whatever is the matter with
+that shorthorn? Why don't he stand his hand?'
+
+"But Merino ain't noomerous no more; so Dave allows it's a shame to
+let it go that a-way, an' Mexicans sufferin' for melody. With that
+he straps on the tune-box, an' roams 'round from one 'doby to
+another, turnin' it loose.
+
+"'How long does Merino deal his tunes,' says Dave, 'before he
+c'llects? However, I makes new rooles for the game, right yere. I
+plays these cadences five minutes; an' then I gets action on 'em for
+five. I splits even with these Mexicans, which is shorely fair.'
+
+"So Dave twists away for five minutes, an' me a-timin' of him, an'
+then leans the hewgag up ag'in a 'doby, an' starts in to make a
+round-up. He'll tackle a household, sort o' terrorisin' at 'em with
+his gun; an' tharupon the members gets that generous they even
+negotiates loans an' thrusts them proceeds on Dave. That's right;
+they're that ambitious to donate.
+
+"One time he runs up on a band of tenderfeet, who's skallyhootin'
+'round; an' they comes up an' bends their y'ears a-while. They're
+turnin' to go jest before c'llectin' time.
+
+"'Hold on,' says Dave, pickin' up his Colt's offen the top of the
+hewgag; 'don't get cold feet. Which I've seen people turn that kyard
+in church, but you bet you don't jump no game of mine that a-way.
+You-all line up ag'in the wall thar ontil I tucks the blankets in on
+this yere outbreak in F flat, an' I'll be with you.'
+
+"When Dave winds up, he goes along the line of them tremblin'
+towerists, an' they contreebutes 'leven dollars.
+
+"'They aims to go stampedin' off with them nocturnes, an' 'peggios,
+an' arias, an' never say nothin',' says Dave; 'but they can't work
+no twist like that, an' me a-ridin' herd; none whatever.'
+
+"Dave carries on sim'lar for three hours; an' what on splits, an'
+what on bets he wins, he's over a hundred dollars ahead. But at last
+he's plumb fatigued, an' allows he'll quit an' call it a day. So he
+packs the tom-tom down to Franklin's office. Franklin is marshal of
+Tucson, an' Dave turns over the layout an' the money, an' tells
+Franklin to round up Merino an' enrich him tharwith.
+
+"'Where is this yere Dago?' says Franklin.
+
+"'However do I know?' says Dave. 'Last I notes of him, he's
+canterin' off among the scenery like antelopes.'
+
+"It's at this p'int Merino comes to view. He starts in to be a heap
+dejected about that bullet; but when he gets Dave's donation that a-
+way, his hopes revives. He begins to regyard it as a heap good
+scheme.
+
+"'But you'll have to cirkle up to the alcalde, Tutt,' says Franklin.
+'I ain't shore none you ain't been breakin' some law.'
+
+"Dave grumbles, an' allows Tucson is gettin' a heap too staid for
+him.
+
+"'It's gettin' so,' says Dave, 'a free American citizen don't obtain
+no encouragements. Yere I puts in half a day, amassin' wealth for a
+foreign gent who is settin' in bad luck; an' elevatin' Mexicans, who
+shorely needs it, an' for a finish I'm laid for by the marshal like
+a felon.'
+
+"Well, we-all goes surgin' over to the alcalde's. Franklin, Dave an'
+the alcalde does a heap of pokin' about to see whatever crimes, if
+any, Dave's done. Which they gets by the capture of the hewgag, an'
+shootin' that bullet into its bowels don't bother 'em a bit. Even
+Dave's standin' up them towerists, an' the rapine that ensoos don't
+worry 'em none; but the question of the music itse'f sets the
+alcalde to buckin'.
+
+"'I'm shorely depressed to say it, Dave,' says the alcalde, who is a
+sport named Steele, 'but you've been a-bustin' of ord'nances about
+playin' music on the street without no license.'
+
+"'Can't we-all beat the game no way?' says Dave.
+
+"'Which I shorely don't see how,' says the alcalde.
+
+"'Nor me neither,' says Franklin.
+
+"'Whatever is the matter with counter-brandin' them tunes over to
+Merino's license?' says Dave.
+
+"'Can't do it nohow,' says the alcalde.
+
+"'Well, is this yere ord'nance accordin' to Hoyle an' the
+Declaration of Independence?' says Dave. 'I don't stand it none
+onless.'
+
+"'Shore!' says the alcalde.
+
+"'Ante an' pass the buck, then,' says Dave. 'I'm a law-abidin'
+citizen, an' all I wants is a squar' deal from the warm deck.'
+
+"So they fines Dave fifty dollars for playin' them harmonies without
+no license. Dave asks me later not to mention this yere outcome in
+Wolfville, an' I never does. But yere it's different."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+The Feud of Pickles.
+
+
+"Thar's a big crowd in Wolfville that June day." The Old Cattleman
+tilted his chair back and challenged my interest with his eye. "The
+corrals is full of pack mules an' bull teams an' wagon-trains; an'
+white men, Mexicans, half-breeds an' Injuns is a-mixin' an'
+meanderin' 'round, a-lyin' an' a-laughin' an' a-drinkin' of Red
+Light whiskey mighty profuse. Four or five mule skinners has their
+long limber sixteen-foot whips, which is loaded with dust-shot from
+butt to tip, an' is crackin' of 'em at a mark. I've seen one of
+these yere mule experts with the most easy, delicate, delib'rate
+twist of the wrist make his whip squirm in the air like a hurt
+snake; an' then he'll straighten it out with the crack of twenty
+rifles, an' the buckskin popper cuts a hole in a loose buffalo robe
+he's hung up; an' all without investin' two ounces of actooal
+strength. Several of us Wolfville gents is on the sidewalk in front
+of the O. K. Restauraw, applaudin' of the good shots, when Dave Tutt
+speaks up to Jack Moore, next to me, an' says:
+
+"'Jack, you minds that old Navajo you downs over on the San Simon
+last Fall?'"
+
+"'I minds him mighty cl'ar,' says Jack. 'He's stealin' my Alizan
+hoss at the time, an' I can prove it by his skelp on my bridle now.'
+
+"'Well,' says Dave, p'intin' to a ornery, saddle-colored half-breed
+who's makin' himse'f some frequent, 'that Injun they calls "Pickles"
+is his nephy, an' you wants to look out a whole lot. I hears him
+allow that the killin' of his relatif is mighty rank, an' that he
+don't like it nohow.'
+
+"'That's all right,' says Jack; 'Pickles an' me has been keepin'
+cases on each other an hour; an' I'll post you-all private, if he
+goes to play hoss a little bit, him an' his oncle will be able to
+talk things over before night.'
+
+"Which it's mighty soon when Pickles comes along where we be.
+
+"'Hello, Jack,' he says, an' his manner is insultin'; 'been makin'
+it smoky down on the old San Simon lately?'
+
+"'No; not since last fall,' says Jack, plenty light an' free; 'an'
+now I thinks of it, I b'lieves I sees that Navajo hoss-thief of an
+oncle of yours when I'm down thar last. I ain't run up on him none
+lately, though. Where do you-all reckon he's done 'loped to?'
+
+"'Can't say, myse'f,' says Pickles, with a kind o' wicked
+cheerfulness; 'our fam'ly has a round-up of itse'f over on B'ar
+Creek last spring, an' I don't count his nose among 'em none. Mebby
+he has an engagement, an' can't get thar. Mebby he's out squanderin'
+'round in the high grass some'ers. Great man to go 'round permiscus,
+that Injun is.'
+
+"'You see,' says Jack, 'I don't know but he might be dead. Which the
+time I speaks of, I'm settin' in camp one day. Something attracts
+me, an' I happens to look up, an' thar's my hoss, Alizan, with a
+perfect stranger on him, pitchin' an' buckin', an' it looks like
+he's goin' to cripple that stranger shore. Pickles, you knows me!
+I'd lose two hosses rather than have a gent I don't know none get
+hurt. So I grabs my Winchester an' allows to kill Alizan. But it's a
+new gun; an' you know what new sights is--coarse as sandburrs; you
+could drag a dog through 'em--an' I holds too high. I fetches the
+stranger, "bang!" right back of his left y'ear, an' the bullet comes
+outen his right y'ear. You can bet the limit, I never am so
+displeased with my shootin'. The idee of me holdin' four foot too
+high in a hundred yards! I never is that embarrassed! I'm so plumb
+disgusted an' ashamed, I don't go near that equestrian stranger till
+after I finishes my grub. Alizan, he comes up all shiverin' an'
+sweatin' an' stands thar; an' mebby in a hour or so I strolls out to
+the deceased. It shorely wearies me a whole lot when I sees him;
+he's nothin' but a common Digger buck. You can drink on it if I
+ain't relieved. Bein' a no-account Injun, of course, I don't paw him
+over much for brands; but do you know, Pickles, from the casooal
+glance I gives, it strikes me at the time it's mighty likely to be
+your oncle. This old bronco fancier's skelp is over on my bridle, if
+you thinks you'd know it.'
+
+"'No,' says Pickles, mighty onconcerned, 'it can't be my oncle
+nohow. If he's one of my fam'ly, it would be your ha'r on his
+bridle. It must be some old shorthorn of a Mohave you downs. Let's
+all take a drink on it.'
+
+"So we-all goes weavin' over to the Red Light, Jack an' Pickles
+surveyin' each other close an' interested, that a-way, an' the rest
+of us on the quee vee, to go swarmin' out of range if they takes to
+shootin'.
+
+"'It's shore sad to part with friends,' says Pickles, as he secretes
+his nose-paint, 'but jest the same I must saddle an' stampede out of
+yere. I wants to see that old villyun, Tom Cooke, an' I don't reckon
+none I'll find him any this side of Prescott, neither. Be you
+thinkin' of leavin' camp yourse'f, Jack?'
+
+"'I don't put it up I'll leave for a long time,' says Jack. 'Mebby
+not for a month--mebby it's even years before I go wanderin' off--so
+don't go to makin' no friendly, quiet waits for me nowhere along the
+route, Pickles, 'cause you'd most likely run out of water or chuck
+or something before ever I trails up.'
+
+"It ain't long when Pickles saddles up an' comes chargin' 'round on
+his little buckskin hoss. Pickles takes to cuttin' all manner of
+tricks, reachin' for things on the ground, snatchin' off Mexicans'
+hats, an' jumpin' his pony over wagon tongues an' camp fixin's. All
+the time he's whoopin' an' yellin' an' carryin' on, an havin' a high
+time all by himse'f. Which you can see he's gettin' up his blood an'
+nerve, reg'lar Injun fashion.
+
+"Next he takes down his rope an' goes to whirlin' that. Two or three
+times he comes flashin' by where we be, an' I looks to see him make
+a try at Jack. But he's too far back, or thar's too many 'round
+Jack, or Pickles can't get the distance, or something; for he don't
+throw it none, but jest keeps yellin' an' ridin' louder an' faster.
+Pickles shorely puts up a heap of riot that a-way! It's now that
+Enright calls to Pickles.
+
+"'Look yere, Pickles,' he says, 'I've passed the word to the five
+best guns in camp to curl you up if you pitch that rope once. Bein'
+as the news concerns you, personal, I allows it's nothin' more'n
+friendly to tell you. Then ag'in, I don't like to lose the Red Light
+sech a customer like you till it's a plumb case of crowd.'
+
+"When Enright vouchsafes this warnin', Pickles swings down an'
+leaves his pony standin', an' comes over.
+
+"'Do you know, Jack,' he says, 'I don't like the onrespectful tones
+wherein you talks of Injuns. I'm Injun, part, myse'f, an' I don't
+like it.'
+
+"'No?' says Jack; 'I s'pose that's a fact, too. An' yet, Pickles,
+not intendin' nothin' personal, for I wouldn't be personal with a
+prairie dog, I'm not only onrespectful of Injuns, an' thinks the
+gov'ment ought to pay a bounty for their skelps, but I states
+beliefs that a hoss-stealin', skulkin' mongrel of a half-breed is
+lower yet; I holdin' he ain't even people--ain't nothin', in fact.
+But to change the subjeck, as well as open an avenoo for another
+round of drinks, I'll gamble, Pickles, that you-all stole that hoss
+down thar, an' that the "7K" brand on his shoulder ain't no brand at
+all, but picked on with the p'int of a knife.'
+
+"When Jack puts it all over Pickles that a-way, we looks for
+shootin' shore. But Pickles can't steady himse'f on the call. He's
+like ponies I've met. He'll ride right at a thing as though he's
+goin' plumb through or over, an' at the last second he quits an'
+flinches an' weakens. Son, it ain't Pickles' fault. Thar ain't no
+breed of gent but the pure white who can play a desp'rate deal down
+through, an' call the turn for life or death at the close; an'
+Pickles, that a-way, is only half white. So he laughs sort o' ugly
+at Jack's bluff, an' allows he orders drinks without no wagers.
+
+"'An' then, Jack,' he says, 'I wants you to come feed with me. I'll
+have Missis Rucker burn us up something right.'
+
+"'I'll go you,' says Jack, 'if it ain't nothin' but salt hoss.'
+
+"'I'll fix you-all folks up a feed,' says Missis Rucker, a heap
+grim, 'but you don't do no banquetin' in no dinin' room of mine.
+I'll spread your grub in the camp-house, t'other side the corral,
+an' you-all can then be as sociable an' smoky as you please. Which
+you'll be alone over thar, an' can conduct the reepast in any
+fashion to suit yourse'fs. But you don't get into the dinin' room
+reg'lar, an' go to weedin' out my boarders accidental, with them
+feuds of yours.'
+
+"After a little, their grub's got ready in the camp house. It's a
+jo-darter of a feed, with cake, pie, airtights, an' the full game,
+an' Jack an' Pickles walks over side an' side. They goes in alone
+an' shets the door. In about five minutes, thar's some emphatic
+remarks by two six-shooters, an' we-all goes chargin' to find out.
+We discovers Jack eatin' away all right; Pickles is the other side,
+with his head in his tin plate, his intellects runnin' out over his
+eye. Jack's shore subdooed that savage for all time.
+
+"'It don't look like Pickles is hungry none,' says Jack.
+
+"They both pulls their weepons as they sets down, an' puts 'em in
+their laps; but bein' bred across, that a-way, Pickles can't stand
+the strain. He gets nervous an' grabs for his gun; the muzzle
+catches onder the table-top, an' thar's his bullet all safe in the
+wood. Jack, bein' clean strain American, has better luck, an'
+Pickles is got. Shore, it's right an' on the squar'!
+
+"'You sees,' says Dan Boggs, 'this killin's bound to be right from
+the jump. It comes off by Pickles' earnest desire; Jack couldn't
+refoose. He would have lost both skelp an' standin' if he had.
+Which, however, if this yere 'limination of Pickles has got to have
+a name, my idee is to call her a case of self-deestruction on
+Pickles' part, an' let it go at that.'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+Johnny Florer's Axle Grease.
+
+
+It was the afternoon--cool and
+beautiful. I had been nursing my indolence with a cigar and one of
+the large arm-chairs which the veranda of the great hotel afforded.
+Now and then I considered within myself as to the whereabouts of my
+Old Cattleman, and was in a half humor to hunt him up. Just as my
+thoughts were hardening into decision in that behalf, a high,
+wavering note, evidently meant for song, came floating around the
+corner of the house, from the veranda on the end. The singer was out
+of range of eye, but I knew him for my aged friend. Thus he gave
+forth:
+
+ "Dogville, Dogville!
+ A tavern an' a still,
+ That's all thar is in all Dog-ville."
+
+"How do you feel to-day?" I asked as I took a chair near the
+venerable musician. "Happy and healthy, I trust?"
+
+"Never feels better in my life," responded the Old Cattleman. "If I
+was to feel any better, I'd shorely go an' see a doctor."
+
+"You are a singer, I observe."
+
+"I'm melodious nacheral, but I'm gettin' so I sort o' stumbles in my
+notes. Shoutin' an' singin' 'round a passel of cattle to keep 'em
+from stampedin' on bad nights has sp'iled my voice, that a-way.
+Thar's nothin' so weakenin', vocal, as them efforts in the open air
+an' in the midst of the storms an' the elements. What for a song is
+that I'm renderin'? Son, I learns that ballad long ago, back when
+I'm a boy in old Tennessee. It's writ, word and music, by little
+Mollie Hines, who lives with her pap, old Homer Hines, over on the
+'Possum Trot. Mollie Hines is shore a poet, an' has a mighty sight
+of fame, local. She's what you-all might call a jo-darter of a poet,
+Mollie is; an' let anythin' touchin' or romantic happen anywhere
+along the 'Possum Trot, so as to give her a subjeck, an' Mollie
+would be down on it, instanter, like a fallin' star. She shorely is
+a verse maker, an' is known in the Cumberland country as 'The
+Nightingale of Big Bone Lick.' I remembers when a Shylock over to
+the Dudleytown bank forecloses a mortgage on old Homer Hines, an'
+offers his settlements at public vandue that a-way, how Mollie
+prances out an' pours a poem into the miscreant. Thar's a hundred
+an' 'levcn verses into it, an' each one like a bullet outen a
+Winchester. It goes like this: "Thar's a word to be uttered to the
+rich man in his pride.
+ (Which a gent is frequent richest when it's jest before he died!)
+ Thar's a word to be uttered to the hawg a-eatin' truck.
+ (Which a hawg is frequent fattest when it's jest before he's
+stuck!)
+
+"Mighty sperited epick, that! You recalls that English preacher
+sharp that comes squanderin' 'round the tavern yere for his health
+about a month ago? Shore! I knows you couldn't have overlooked no
+bet like that divine. Well, that night in them parlors, when he
+reads some rhymes in a book,--whatever is that piece he reads?
+Locksley Hall; right you be, son! As I was sayin', when he's through
+renderin' said Locksley Hall, he comes buttin' into a talk with me
+where I'm camped in a corner all cosy as a toad onder a cabbage
+leaf, reecoverin' myse'f with licker from them recitals of his, an'
+he says to me, this parson party does:
+
+"'Which it's shorely a set-back America has no poets,' says he.
+
+"'It's evident,' I says, 'that you never hears of Mollie Hines.'
+
+"'No, never once,' he replies; 'is this yere Miss Hines a poet?'
+
+"Is Mollie Hines a poet!' I repeats, for my scorn at the mere idee
+kind o' stiffens its knees an' takes to buckin' some. 'Mollie Hines
+could make that Locksley Hall gent you was readin' from, or even the
+party who writes Watt's Hymns, go to the diskyard.' An' then I
+repeats some forty of them stanzas, whereof that one I jest now
+recites is a speciment.
+
+"What does this pulpit gent say? He see I has him cinched, an' he's
+plumb mute. He confines himse'f to turnin' up his nose in disgust
+like Bill Storey does when his father-in-law horsewhips him."
+
+Following this, the Old Cattleman and I wrapped ourselves in
+thoughtful smoke, for the space of five minutes, as ones who
+pondered the genius of "The Nightingale of Big Bone Lick"--Mollie
+Hines on the banks of the Possom Trot. At last my friend broke forth
+with a question.
+
+"Whoever is them far-off folks you-all was tellin' me is related to
+Injuns?"
+
+"The Japanese." I replied. "Undoubtedly the Indians and the Japanese
+are of the same stock."
+
+"Which I'm foaled like a mule," said the old gentleman, "a complete
+prey to inborn notions ag'in Injuns. I wouldn't have one pesterin'
+'round me more'n I'd eat off en the same plate with a snake. I shore
+has aversions to 'em a whole lot. Of course, I never sees them Japs,
+but I saveys Injuns from feathers to moccasins, an' comparin' Japs
+to Injuns, I feels about 'em like old Bill Rawlins says about his
+brother Jim's wife."
+
+"And how was that?" I asked.
+
+The afternoon was lazy and good, and I in a mood to listen to my
+rambling grey comrade talk of anybody or anything.
+
+"It's this a-way," he began. "This yere Bill an' Jim Rawlins is
+brothers an' abides in Roanoke, Virginny. They splits up in their
+yooth, an' Jim goes p'intin' out for the West. Which he shore gets
+thar, an' nothin' is heard of him for forty years.
+
+"Bill Rawlins, back in Roanoke, waxes a heap rich, an' at last
+clears up his game an' resolves lie takes a rest. Also he concloods
+to travel; an' as long as he's goin' to travel, he allows he'll sort
+o' go projectin' 'round an' see if he can't locate Jim.
+
+"He gets a old an' musty tip about Jim, this Bill Rawlins does, an'
+it works out all right. Bill cuts Jim's trail 'way out yonder on the
+Slope at a meetropolis called Los Angeles. But this yere Jim ain't
+thar none. The folks tells Bill they reckons Jim is over to Virginny
+City.
+
+"It's a month later, an' Bill is romancin' along on one of them
+Nevada mountain-meadow trails, when he happens upon a low, squatty
+dugout, the same bein' a camp rather than a house, an' belongs with
+a hay ranche. In the door is standin' a most ornery seemin' gent,
+with long, tangled ha'r an' beard, an' his clothes looks like he's
+shorely witnessed times. The hands of this ha'ry gent is in his
+pockets, an' he exhibits a mighty soopercilious air. Bill pulls up
+his cayouse for a powwow.
+
+"How far is it to a place where I can camp down for the night?' asks
+Bill.
+
+"'It's about twenty miles to the next wickeyup,' says the
+soopercilious gent.
+
+"'Which I can't make it none to-night, then,' says Bill.
+
+"'Not on that hoss,' says the soopercilious gent, for Bill's pony
+that a-way is plenty played.
+
+"'Mebby, then,' says Bill, ` I'd better bunk in yere.'
+
+"'You can gamble you-all don't sleep yere,' says the soopercilious
+gent; 'none whatever!'
+
+'An' why not?' asks Bill.
+
+"'Because I won't let you,' says the soopercilious gent, a-bitin'
+off a piece of tobacco. 'This is my camp, an' force'ble invasions by
+casooal hold-ups like you, don't preevail with me a little bit. I
+resents the introosion on my privacy.'
+
+"'But I'll have to sleep on these yere plains,' says Bill a heap
+plaintif.
+
+"'Thar's better sports than you-all slept on them plains,' says the
+soopercilious gent.
+
+"Meanwhile, thar's a move or two, speshully the way he bats his
+eyes, about this soopercilious gent that sets Bill to rummagin'
+'round in his mem'ry. At last he asks:
+
+"'Is your name Rawlins?'
+
+"'Yes, sir, my name's Rawlins,' says the soopercilious gent.
+
+"'Jim Rawlins of Roanoke?'
+
+"'Jim Rawlins of Roanoke;' an' the soopercilious gent reaches inside
+the door of the dugout, searches forth a rifle an' pumps a cartridge
+into the bar'l.
+
+"'Stan' your hand, Jim!' says Bill, at the same time slidin' to the
+ground with the hoss between him an' his relatif; 'don't get
+impetyoous. I'm your brother Bill.'
+
+"'What!' says the soopercilious gent, abandonin' them hostile
+measures, an' joy settlin' over his face. 'What!' he says; 'you my
+brother Bill? Well, don't that beat grizzly b'ars amazin'! Come in,
+Bill, an' rest your hat. Which it's simply the tenderness of hell I
+don't miss you.'
+
+"Whereupon Bill an' Jim tracks along inside an' goes to canvassin'
+up an' down as to what ensooes doorin' them forty years they've been
+parted. Jim wants to know all about Roanoke an' how things stacks up
+in old Virginny, an' he's chuckin' in his questions plenty rapid.
+
+"While Bill's replyin', his eye is caught by a frightful-lookin'
+female who goes slyin' in an' out, a-organizin' of some grub. She's
+the color of a saddle, an' Bill can't make out whether she's a
+white, a Mexican, a Digger Injun or a nigger. An' she's that
+hideous, this female is, she comes mighty near givin' Bill heart
+failure. Son, you-all can't have no idee how turribie this person
+looks. She's so ugly the flies won't light on her. Yes, sir! ugly
+enough to bring sickness into a fam'ly. Bill can feel all sorts o'
+horrors stampedin' about in his frame as he gazes on her. Her eyes
+looks like two bullet holes in a board, an' the rest of her feachers
+is tetotaciously indeescrib'ble. Bill's intellects at the awful
+sight of this yere person almost loses their formation, as army
+gents would say. At last Bill gets in a question on his rapid-fire
+relatif, who's shootin' him up with queries touchin' Roanoke to beat
+a royal flush.
+
+"'Jim,' says Bill, sort o' scared like, 'whoever is this yere lady
+who's roamin' the scene?'
+
+"'Well, thar now!' says Jim, like he's plumb disgusted, 'I hope my
+gun may hang fire, if I don't forget to introdooce you! Bill, that's
+my wife.'
+
+"Then Jim goes surgin' off all spraddled out about the noomerous an'
+manifest excellencies of this female, an' holds forth alarmin' of
+an' concernin' her virchoos an' loveliness of face an' form, an' all
+to sech a scand'lous degree, Bill has to step outdoors to blush.
+
+"'An', Bill,' goes on Jim, an' he's plumb rapturous, that a-way,
+'may I never hold three of a kind ag'in, if she ain't got a sister
+who's as much like her as two poker chips. I'm co'tin' both of 'em
+mighty near four years before ever I can make up my mind whichever
+of 'em I needs. They're both so absolootely sim'lar for beauty, an'
+both that aloorin' to the heart, I simply can't tell how to set my
+stack down. At last, after four years, I ups an' cuts the kyards for
+it, an' wins out this one.'
+
+"'Well, Jim,' says Bill, who's been settin' thar shudderin' through
+them rhapsodies, an' now an' then gettin' a glimpse of this yere
+female with the tail of his eye: 'Well, Jim, far be it from me, an'
+me your brother, to go avouchin' views to make you feel doobious of
+your choice. But candor's got the drop on me an' compels me to speak
+my thoughts. I never sees this sister of your wife, Jim, but jest
+the same, I'd a heap sight rather have her.'
+
+"An' as I observes previous," concluded the old gentleman, "I feels
+about Japs an' Injuns like Bill does about Jim's wife that time. I
+never sees no Japs, but I'd a mighty sight rather have 'em."
+
+There was another pause after this, and cigars were produced. For a
+time the smoke curled in silence. Then my friend again took up
+discussion.
+
+"Thar comes few Injuns investigatin' into Wolfville. Doorin' them
+emutes of Cochise, an' Geronimo, an' Nana, the Apaches goes No'th
+an' South clost in by that camp of ours, but you bet! they're never
+that locoed as to rope once at Wolfville. We-all would shorely have
+admired to entertain them hostiles; but as I su'gests, they're a
+heap too enlightened to give us a chance.
+
+"Savages never finds much encouragement to come ha'ntin' about
+Wolfville. About the first visitin' Injun meets with a contreetemps;
+though this is inadvertent a heap an' not designed. This buck, a
+Navajo, I takes it, from his feathers, has been pirootin' about for
+a day or two. At last I reckons he allows he'll eelope off into the
+foothills ag'in. As carryin' out them roode plans which he forms, he
+starts to scramble onto the Tucson stage jest as Old Monte's
+c'llectin' up his reins. But it don't go; Injuns is barred. The
+gyard, who's perched up in front next to Old Monte, pokes this yere
+aborigine in the middle of his face with the muzzle of his rifle;
+an' as the Injun goes tumblin', the stage starts, an' both wheels
+passes over him the longest way. That Injun gives a groan like
+twenty sinners, an his lamp is out.
+
+"Old Monte sets the brake an' climbs down an' sizes up the
+remainder. Then he gets back on the box, picks up his six hosses an'
+is gettin' out.
+
+"'Yere, you!' says French, who's the Wells-Fargo agent, a-callin'
+after Old Monte, 'come back an' either plant your game or pack it
+with you. I'm too busy a gent to let you or any other blinded
+drunkard go leavin' a fooneral at my door. Thar's enough to do here
+as it is, an' I don't want no dead Injuns on my hands.'
+
+"'Don't put him up thar an' go sp'ilin' them mail-bags,' howls Old
+Monte, as French an' a hoss-hustler from inside the corral lays hold
+of the Navajo to throw him on with the baggage.
+
+"'Then come down yere an' ride herd on the play yourse'f, you
+murderin' sot!' says French.
+
+"An' with that, he shore cuts loose an' cusses Old Monte frightful;
+cusses till a cottonwood tree in front of the station sheds all its
+leaves, an' he deadens the grass for a hundred yards about.
+
+"'Promotin' a sepulcher in this rock-ribbed landscape,' says French,
+as Jack Moore comes up, kind o' apol'gisin' for his profane voylence
+at Old Monte; 'framin' up a tomb, I say, in this yere rock-ribbed
+landscape ain't no child's play, an' I'm not allowin' none for that
+homicide Monte to put no sech tasks on me. He knows the Wolfville
+roole. Every gent skins his own polecats an' plants his own prey.'
+
+"'That's whatever!' says Jack Moore, 'an' onless Old Monte is
+thirstin' for trouble in elab'rate forms, he acquiesces tharin.'
+
+"With that Old Monte hitches the Navajo to the hind axle with a
+lariat which French brings out, an' then the stage, with the savage
+coastin' along behind, goes rackin' off to the No'th. Later, Monte
+an' the passengers hangs this yere remainder up in a pine tree, at
+an Injun crossin' in the hills, as a warnin'. Whether it's a warnin'
+or no, we never learns; all that's shore is that the remainder an'
+the lariat is gone next day; but whatever idees the other Injuns
+entertains of the play is, as I once hears a lecture sharp
+promulgate, 'concealed with the customary stoicism of the American
+savage.'
+
+"Most likely them antipathies of mine ag'in Injuns is a heap
+enhanced by what I experiences back on the old Jones an' Plummer
+trail, when they was wont to stampede our herds as we goes drivin'
+through the Injun Territory. Any little old dark night one of them
+savages is liable to come skulkin' up on the wind'ard side of the
+herd, flap a blanket, cut loose a yell, an' the next second thar's a
+hundred an' twenty thousand dollars' worth of property skally-
+hootin' off into space on frenzied hoofs. Next day, them same
+ontootered children of the woods an' fields would demand four bits
+for every head they he'ps round up an' return to the bunch. It's a
+source of savage revenoo, troo; but plumb irritatin'. Them Injuns
+corrals sometimes as much as a hundred dollars by sech treacheries.
+An' then we-all has to rest over one day to win it back at poker.
+
+"Will Injuns gamble? Shore! an' to the limit at that! Of course,
+bein', as you saveys, a benighted people that a-way, they're some
+easy, havin' no more jedgment as to the valyoo of a hand than Steve
+Stevenson, an' Steve would take a pa'r of nines an' bet 'em higher
+than a cat's back. We allers recovers our dinero, but thar's time
+an' sleep we lose an' don't get back.
+
+"Yes, indeed, son, Injuns common is as ornery as soapweed. The only
+good you-all can say of 'em is, they're nacheral-born longhorns, is
+oncomplainin', an' saveys the West like my black boy saveys licker.
+One time--this yere is 'way back in my Texas days--one time I'm
+camped for long over on the Upper Hawgthief. It's rained a heap, an'
+bein' as I'm on low ground anyhow, it gets that soft an' swampy
+where I be it would bog a butterfly. For once I'm took sick; has a
+fever, that a-way. An' lose flesh! shorely you should have seen me!
+I falls off like persimmons after a frost, an' gets as ga'nt an'
+thin as a cow in April. So I allows I'll take a lay-off for a couple
+of months an' reecooperate some.
+
+"Cossettin' an' pettin' of my health, as I states, I saddles up an'
+goes cavortin' over into the Osage nation to visit an old compadre
+of mine who's a trader thar by the name of Johnny Florer. This yere
+Florer is an old-timer with the Osages; been with 'em it's mighty
+likely twenty year at that time, an' is with 'em yet for all the
+notice I ever receives.
+
+"On the o'casion of this ambassy of mine, I has a chance to study
+them savages, an' get a line on their char'cters a whole lot. This
+tune I'm with Johnny, what you-all might call Osage upper circles is
+a heap torn by the ontoward rivalries of a brace of eminent bucks
+who's each strugglin' to lead the fashion for the tribe an' raise
+the other out.
+
+"Them Osages, while blanket Injuns, is plumb opulent. Thar's sixteen
+hundred of 'em, an' they has to themse'fs 1,500,000 acres of as good
+land as ever comes slippin' from the palm of the Infinite. Also, the
+gov'ment is weak-minded enough to confer on every one of 'em, each
+buck drawin' the dinero for his fam'ly, a hundred an' forty big iron
+dollars anyooally. Wherefore, as I observes, them Osages is plenty
+strong, financial.
+
+"These yere two high-rollin' bucks I speaks of, who's strugglin' for
+the social soopremacy, is in the midst of them strifes while I'm
+visitin' Florer. It's some two moons prior when one of 'em, which
+we'll call him the 'Astor Injun,' takes a heavy fall out of the
+opp'sition by goin' over to Cherryvale an' buyin' a sooperannuated
+two-seat Rockaway buggy. To this he hooks up a span of ponies, loads
+in his squaws, an' p'rades 'round from Pawhusky to Greyhoss--the
+same bein' a couple of Osage camps--an' tharby redooces the enemy--
+what we'll name the 'Vanderbilt Injuns'--to desp'ration. The Astor
+savage shorely has the call with that Rockaway.
+
+"But the Vanderbilt Osage is a heap hard to down. He takes one look
+at the Astor Injun's Rockaway with all its blindin' splendors, an'
+then goes streakin' it for Cherryvale, like a drunkard to a
+barbecue. An' he sees the Rockaway an' goes it several better. What
+do you-all reckon now that savage equips himse'f with? He wins out a
+hearse, a good big black roomy hearse, with ploomes onto it an'
+glass winders in the sides.
+
+"As soon as ever this Vanderbilt Injun stiffens his hand with the
+hearse, he comes troopin' back to camp with it, himse'f on the box
+drivin', an' puttin' on enough of lordly dog to make a pack of
+hounds. Which he shorely squelches the Astors; they jest simply lay
+down an' wept at sech grandeur. Their Rockaway ain't one, two,
+three,--ain't in the money.
+
+"An' every day the Vanderbilt Injun would load his squaws an'
+papooses inside the hearse, an' thar, wropped in their blankets an'
+squattin' on the floor of the hearse for seats, they would be
+lookin' out o' the winders at common savages who ain't in it an'
+don't have no hearse. Meanwhiles, the buck Vanderbilt is drivin' the
+outfit all over an' 'round the cantonments, the entire bunch as
+sassy an' as flippant as a coop o' catbirds. It's all the Astors can
+do to keep from goin' plumb locoed. The Vanderbilts win.
+
+"One mornin', when Florer an' me has jest run our brands onto the
+fourth drink, an old buck comes trailin' into the store. His blanket
+is pulled over his head, an' he's pantin' an' givin' it out he's
+powerful ill.
+
+"'How is my father?' says Johnny in Osage.
+
+"'Oh, my son,' says the Injun, placin' one hand on his stomach, an'
+all mighty tender, 'your father is plenty sick. Your father gets up
+this mornin', an' his heart is very bad. You must give him medicine
+or your father will die.'
+
+"Johnny passes the invalid a cinnamon stick an' exhorts him to chew
+on that, which he does prompt an' satisfactory, like cattle on their
+cud. This cinnamon keeps him steady for 'most five minutes.
+
+"'Whatever is the matter with this savage?' I asks of Johnny.
+
+"'Nothin' partic'lar,' says Johnny. 'Last night he comes pushin' in
+yere an' buys a bottle of Worcestershire sauce; an' then he gets
+gaudy an' quaffs it all up on a theery she's a new-fangled fire
+water. He gets away with the entire bottle. It's now he realizes
+them errors, an' takes to groanin' an' allowin' it gives him a bad
+heart. Which I should shorely admit as much!'
+
+"'Your father is worse,' says the Osage, as he comes cuttin' in on
+Johnny ag'in. 'Must have stronger medicine. That medicine,' holdin'
+up some of the cinnamon, 'that not bad enough.'
+
+"At this, Johnny passes his 'father' over a double handful of black
+pepper before it's ground.
+
+"'Let my father get away with that,' says Johnny, 'an' he'll feel
+like a bird. It will make him gay an' full of p'isen, like a
+rattlesnake in August.'
+
+"Out to the r'ar of Johnny's store is piled up onder a shed more'n
+two thousand boxes of axle grease. It was sent into the nation
+consigned to Johnny by some ill-advised sports in New York, who
+figgers that because the Osages as a tribe abounds in wagons, thar
+must shorely be a market for axle grease. That's where them New York
+persons misses the ford a lot. Them savages has wagons, troo; but
+they no more thinks of greasin' them axles than paintin' the runnin'
+gear. They never goes ag'inst that axle grease game for so much as a
+single box; said ointment is a drug. When he don't dispose of it
+none, Johnny stores it out onder a shed some twenty rods away, an'
+regyards it as a total loss.
+
+"'Axle grease,' says Johnny, 'makes a p'int in civilization to which
+the savage has not yet clambered, an' them optimists, East, who
+sends it on yere, should have never made no sech break.'
+
+"Mebby it's because this axle grease grows sullen an' feels
+neglected that a-way; mebby it's the heats of two summers an' the
+frosts of two winters which sp'iles its disp'sition; shore it is at
+any rate that at the time I'm thar, that onguent seems fretted to
+the core, an' is givin' forth a protestin' fragrance that has stood
+off a coyote an' made him quit at a distance of two hundred yards.
+You might even say it has caused Nacher herse'f to pause an' catch
+her breath.
+
+"It's when the ailin' Osage, whose malady is too deep-seated to be
+reached by cinnamon or pimento, comes frontin' up for a third
+preescription, that the axle grease idee seizes Johnny.
+
+"'Father,' says Johnny, 'come with me. Your son will now saw off
+some big medicine on you; a medicine meant for full-blown gents like
+you an' me. Come, father, come with your son, an' you shall be cured
+in half the time it takes to run a loop on a lariat.'
+
+"Johnny breaks open one of the axle grease boxes, arms the savage
+with a chip for a spoon, an' exhorts him to cut in on it a whole
+lot.
+
+"Son, the odors of them wares is awful; Kansas butter is violets to
+it; but it never flutters that Osage. Ile takes Johnny's chip an'
+goes to work, spadin' that axle grease into his mouth, like he ain't
+got a minute to live. When he's got away with half the box, he tucks
+the balance onder his blanket an' retires to his teepee with a look
+of gratitoode on his face. His heart has ceased to be bad, an' them
+illnesses, which aforetime has him on the go, surrenders to the
+powers of this yere new medicine like willows to the wind. With
+this, he goes caperin' out for his camp, idly hummin' a war song,
+sech is his relief.
+
+"An' here's where Johnny gets action on that axle grease. It shorely
+teaches, also, the excellence of them maxims, 'Cast your bread upon
+the waters an' you'll be on velvec before many days.' Within two
+hours a couple of this sick buck's squaws comes sidlin' tip to
+Johnny an' desires axle grease. It's quoted at four bits a box, an'
+the squaws changes in five pesos an' beats a retreat, carryin' away
+ten boxes. Then the fame of this big, new medicine spreads; that
+axle grease becomes plenty pop'lar. Other bucks an' other squaws
+shows up, changes in their money, an' is made happy with axle
+grease. They never has sech a time, them Osages don't, since the
+battle of the Hoss-shoe. Son, they packs it off in blankets,
+freights it away in wagons. They turns loose on a reg'lar axle
+grease spree. In a week every box is sold, an' thar's orders stacked
+up on Florer's desk for two kyar-loads more, which is bein' hurried
+on from the East. Even the Injuns' agent gets wrought up about it,
+an' begins to bellow an' paw 'round by way of compliments to Johnny.
+He makes Johnny a speech.
+
+"'Which I've made your excellent discovery, Mr. Florer,' says this
+agent, 'the basis of a report to the gov'ment at Washin'ton. I sets
+forth the mad passion of these yere Osages for axle grease as a
+condiment, a beverage, an' a cure. I explains the tribal leanin'
+that exists for that speshul axle grease which is crowned with
+years, an' owns a strength which comes only as the cor'lary of hard
+experience. Axle grease is like music an' sooths the savage breast.
+It is oil on the troubled waters of aboriginal existence. Its feet
+is the feet of peace. At the touch of axle grease the hostile
+abandons the war path an' surrenders himse'f. He washes off his
+paint an' becometh with axle grease as the lamb that bleateth. The
+greatest possible uprisin' could be quelled with a consignment of
+axle grease. Mr. Florer, I congratulate you. From a humble store-
+keep, sellin' soap, herrin' an' salt hoss, you takes your stand from
+now with the ph'lanthropists an' leaders among men. You have
+conjoined Injuns an' axle grease. For centuries the savage has been
+a problem which has defied gov'ment. He will do so no more. Mr.
+Florer, you have solved the savage with axle grease.'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+Toothpick Johnson's Ostracism.
+
+
+"You sees," observed the Old Cattleman, as he moved into the deeper
+shade; "you sees this yere Toothpick disgraces Wolfville; that's how
+it is. Downs a party, Toothpick Johnson does, an' no gun on the
+gent, the same bein' out of roole entire. Nacherally, while no one
+blames Toothpick, who makes the play what you-all calls 'bony
+fidis,' the public sort o' longs for his eelopement. An' that
+settles it; Toothpick has to hunt out for different stampin'
+grounds.
+
+"It all comes from Toothpick bein' by nacher one of these yere over-
+zealous people, an' prematoorely prone that a-way. He's born eager,
+Toothpick is, an' can't he'p it none.
+
+"You-all has tracked up on that breed of cimmaron plenty frequent
+now. They're the kind who picks up a poker hand, kyard by kyard, as
+they comes. They're that for'ard,--that headlong to get outer the
+present an' into the footure, they jest can't wait for things to
+have a chance to happen.
+
+"'Whyever do you pull in your kyards that a-way?' I says to
+Toothpick, reprovin' of him. 'Why can't you let 'em lay till the
+hand's dealt?'
+
+"'Which I'm shorely that locoed to look if I ain't got three aces or
+some sech,' says Toothpick, 'I must turn 'em up to see.'
+
+"'Well,' says I, an' the same is wisdom every time, 'you-all would
+appear more like a dead cold sport to let 'em be, an' pick up your
+whole hand together. Likewise, you'd display a mighty sight more
+savey if you keeps your eyes on the dealer till he lays down the
+deck. You'd be less afflicted by disagreeable surprises if you'd
+freeze to the last idee; an' you'd lay up money besides.'
+
+"But that's the notion I'm aimin' to convey; Toothpick is too quick.
+His intellects, it looks like, is on eternal tip-toe to get in a
+stack.
+
+"'He's too simooltaneous, is Toothpick,' says Jack Moore once, when
+him an' Boggs is discoursin' together, sizin' up Toothpick. 'He's
+that simooltaneous he comes mighty near bein' a whole lot too
+adjacent.'
+
+"What does Toothpick do that time we-all disapproves an' stampedes
+him? It's a accidental killin'.
+
+"It's second drink time in the evenin', an' the Tucson stage is in.
+Thar's a passel of us who has roped up our mail, an' now we're
+standin' 'round in front of the Red Light, breakin' into letters an'
+papers, an' a-makin' of comments, when along wanders a party who's
+been picnicin' with the camp. As the deal turns, he never does stay
+long nohow; never long enough to become a 'genial 'quaintance an' a
+fav'rite of all.'
+
+"This party who comes sidlin' up is, as we hears, late from Red Dog;
+an' doorin' them four hours wherein he confers his society onto us,
+he stays drunk habityooal an' never does lapse into bein' sober for
+a second. It's shore remark'ble, now, how all them Red Dog people
+stays intox'cated while they sojourns in Wolfville. Never knows it
+to fail; an' I allows, as a s'lootion that a-way, it's owin' to the
+sooperior merits of our nose-paint. It's a compliment they pays us.
+
+"However, this Red Dog gent's drinkin' is his own affairs. An' his
+earnestness about licker may have been his system; then ag'in it may
+not; I don't go pryin' none to determine. But bein' he's plumb
+drunk, as you readily discerns, it keeps up a barrier ag'in growin'
+intimate with this party; an' ontil Toothpick opens on him, his
+intercourse with Wolfville is nacherally only formal.
+
+"This visitor from Red Dog--which Red Dog itse'f is about as low-
+flung a bunch of crim'nals as ever gets rounded up an' called a
+camp--but, as I'm sayin', this totterin' wreck I mentions comes
+stragglin' up, more or less permiscus an' vague, an', without sayin'
+a word or makin' a sign, or even shakin' a bush, stands about lariat
+distance away an' star's at Toothpick, blinkin' his eyes mighty
+malevolent.
+
+"It ain't no time when this yere bluff on the part of the drinkin'
+Red Dog gent attracts Toothpick, who's been skirmishin' 'round among
+us where we're standin', an' is at that time mentionin' Freighter's
+Stew, as a good thing to eat, to Dave Tutt.
+
+"'Who be you-all admirin' now?' asks Toothpick of the Red Dog party,
+who's glarin' towards him. It's then I notes the lights begin to
+dance in Toothpick's eyes; with that impulsive sperit of his, he's
+doo to become abrupt with our visitor at the drop of the hat.
+
+"That Red Dog gent don't make no retort, but stands thar with his
+eyes picketed on Toothpick like he's found a victim. Toothpick is
+fidgetin' on his feet, with his thumbs stuck in his belt; which this
+last is a bad symptom, as it leaves a gent's artillery easy to
+reach.
+
+"It strikes me at the time that it's even money thar's goin' to be
+some shootin'. I don't then nor now know why none. But that
+ignorance is common about shootin's; two times in three nobody ever
+does know why.
+
+"I reckons now it's Toothpick's fidgetin' makes me suspicious he's
+on the brink of rousin' the o'casion with his six-shooter. Which if
+he's cool an' ca'm, it would never come to me that a-way; a cool
+gent never pulls the first gun, leastways never when the pretext is
+friv'lous an' don't come onder the head of 'Must'.
+
+"'Well.' savs Toothpick ag'in, 'whatever be you-all gloatin' over, I
+asks? Or, mebby you're thinkin' of 'doptin' me as a son or
+somethin'?' says Toothpick.
+
+"Still the party from Red Dog don't say nothin'. As Toothpick
+ceases, however, this Red Dog person makes a move, which is
+reasonable quick, for his hip. He's got on a long coat, an' while no
+gent can see, thar's none of us has doubts but he is fully dressed,
+an' that he's searchin' out his Colt's.
+
+"That's what Toothpick allows; an' the Red Dog party's hand ain't
+traveled two inches onder his surtoot, when Toothpick cuts free his
+'44, an' the Red Dog party hits the ground, face down, like a kyard
+jest dealt.
+
+"Yes, he's dead enough; never does kick or flutter once. It's
+shorely a shot in the cross.
+
+"`Do you-all note how he tries to fill his hand on me?' asks
+Toothpick, mighty cheerful.
+
+"Toothpick stoops down for the Red Dog man's gun, an' what do you-
+all think? He don't have no weapon, none whatever; nothin' more
+vig'rous than a peaceful flask of whiskey, which the same is still
+all safe in his r'ar pocket.
+
+"'He warn't heeled!' says Toothpick, straightenin' up an' lookin' at
+us apol'getic an' disgusted.
+
+"It's jestice to Toothpick to say, I never yet overtakes that gent
+who's more abashed an' discouraged than he is when he finds this
+person ain't packin' no gun. He surveys the remainder a second, an'
+says:
+
+"'Gents, if ever the licker for the camp is on Toothpick Johnson,
+it's now. But thar's one last dooty to perform touchin' deceased.
+It's evident, departed is about to ask me to drink. It's this yere
+motion he makes for his whiskey which I mistakes for a gun play.
+Thar I errs, an' stacks up this Red Dog person wrong. Now that I
+onderstands, while acknowledgin' my fal'cies, the least I can do is
+to respect deceased's last wishes. I tharfore," says Toothpick,
+raisin' the Red Dog party's flask, "complies with what, if I hadn't
+interrupted him, would have been his last requests. An' regrettin' I
+don't savey sooner, I drinks to him."
+
+"No," concluded the Old Cattleman, "as I intimates at the go-off,
+Toothpick don't stay long after that. No one talks of stringin' him
+for what's a plain case of bad jedgment, an' nothin' more. But
+still, Wolfville takes a notion ag'in him, an' don't want him 'round
+none. So he has to freight out.
+
+"'You are all right, Toothpick, speakin' gen'ral,' says Old Man
+Enright, when him an' Doc Peets an' Jack Moore comes up on Toothpick
+to notify him it's the Stranglers' idee he'd better pack his wagons
+an' hit the trail, "but you don't hold your six-shooter enough in
+what Doc Peets yere calls 'abeyance.' Without puttin' no stain on
+your character, it's right to say you ain't sedentary enough, an'
+that you-all is a heap too soon besides. In view, tharfore, of what
+I states, an' of you droppin' this yere Red Dog gent--not an ounce
+of iron on him at the time!--while we exonerates, we decides without
+a dissentin' vote to sort o' look 'round the camp for you to-morry,
+say at sundown, an' hang you some, should you then be present yere.
+That's how the herd is grazin', Toothpick: an' if you're out to
+commit sooicide, you'll be partic'lar to be with us at the hour I
+names.'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+The Wolfville Daily Coyote.
+
+
+You-all remembers back," said the Old Cattleman, "that yeretofore I
+su'gests how at some appropriate epock, I relates about the comin'
+of Colonel William Greene Sterett an' that advent of Wolfville's
+great daily paper, the Coyote."
+
+It was evening and sharply in the wake of dinner. We were gathered
+unto ourselves in my friend's apartments. In excellent mood to hear
+of Colonel Sterett and his celebrated journal, I eagerly assured him
+that his promise in said behalf was fresh and fragrant in my memory,
+and that I trusted he would find present opportunity for its
+redemption. Thus encouraged, the old gentleman shoved the box of
+cigars towards me, poured a generous glass, and disposed himself to
+begin.
+
+"Red Dog in a sperit of vain competition," observed my friend,
+"starts a paper about the same time Colonel Sterett founds the
+Coyote; an', son, for a while, them imprints has a lurid life! The
+Red Dog paper don't last long though; it lacks them elements of
+longevity which the Coyote possesses, an' it ain't runnin' many
+weeks before it sort o' rots down all at once, an' the editor jumps
+the game.
+
+"It's ever been a subject of dissensions between Colonel Sterett an'
+myse'f as to where impartial jestice should lay the blame of that
+Red Dog paper's failure. Colonel Sterett charges it onto the editor;
+but it's my beliefs, an' I'm j'ined tharin by Boggs an' Texas
+Thompson, that no editor could flourish an' no paper survive in
+surroundin's so plumb venomous an' p'isen as Red Dog. Moreover, I
+holds that Colonel Sterett, onintentional no doubt, takes a
+ja'ndiced view of that brother publisher. But I rides ahead of my
+tale.
+
+"Thar comes a day when Old Man Enright heads into the Red Light,
+where we-all is discussin' of eepisodes, an' he packs a letter in
+his hand.
+
+"'Yere's a matter,' he says, 'of public concern, an' I asks for a
+full expression of the camp for answer. Yere's a sharp by the name
+of Colonel William Greene Sterett, who writes me as how he's
+sufferin' to let go all holts in the States an' start a paper in
+Wolfville. It shall be, he says, a progressif an' enlightened
+journal, devoted to the moral, mental an' material upheaval of this
+yere commoonity, an' he aims to learn our views. Do I hear any
+remarks on this litteratoor's prop'sition?' "Tell him to come a-
+runnin', Enright," says Jack Moore; "an' draw it strong. If thar's
+one want which is slowly but shorely crowdin' Wolfville to the wall,
+it's a dearth of literatoor; yere's our chance, an' we plays it
+quick an high."
+
+"I ain't so gala confident of all this," says Dan Boggs. "I'm sort
+o' allowin' this hamlet's too feeble yet for a paper. Startin' a
+paper in a small camp this a-way is like givin' a six-shooter to a
+boy; most likely he shoots himse'f, or mebby busts the neighbor,
+tharwith."
+
+"Oh, I don't know,' says Doc Peets, who, I wants to say, is as
+sudden a white man, mental, as I ever sees; "my notion is to bring
+him along. The mere idee of a paper'll do a heap for the town."
+
+"I'm entertainin' sentiments sim'lar,' says Enright; "an' I guess
+I'll write this Colonel Sterett that we'll go him once if we lose.
+I'm assisted to this concloosion by hearin', the last time I'm in
+Tucson, that Red Dog, which is our rival, is out to start a paper,
+in which event it behooves Wolfville to split even with 'em at the
+least."
+
+"That's whatever!" says Moore. "If we allows Red Dog to put it onto
+us that a-way we might jest as well dissolve Wolfville as a camp,
+an' reepair to the woods in a body."
+
+"Enright sends Colonel Sterett word, an' in four weeks he comes
+packin in his layout an' opens up his game. Colonel Sterett,
+personal, is a broad, thick, fine-seemin' gent, with a smooth, high
+for'ead, grey eyes, an' a long, honest face like a hoss. The Colonel
+has a far-off look in his eyes, like he's dreamin' of things
+sublime, which Doc Peets says is the common look of lit'rary gents
+that a-way. Texas Thompson, however, allows he witnesses the same
+distant expression in the eyes of a foogitive from jestice.
+
+"Colonel Sterett makes a good impression. He evolves his journal an'
+names it the Coyote, a name applauded by us all. I'll read you a few
+of them earliest items; which I'm able to give these yere notices
+exact, as I preserves a file of the Coyote complete. I shorely
+wouldn't be without it; none whatever!
+
+"Miss Faro Nell, Wolfville's beautiful and accomplished society
+belle, condescended to grace the post of lookout last night for the
+game presided over by our eminent townsman, Mr. Cherokee Hall.
+
+"Ain't it sweet?" says Faro Nell, when she reads it. "I thinks it's
+jest lovely. The drinks is on me, barkeep." Then we goes on:
+
+"Mr. Samuel Johnson Enright, a namesake of the great lexicographer,
+and the Lycurgus of Wolfville, paid a visit to Tucson last week.
+
+"Any person possessing leisure and a stack of chips can adventure
+the latter under conditions absolutely equitable with that
+distinguished courtier of fortune, Mr. Cherokee Hall.
+
+"If Mr. John Moore, our efficient Marshal, will refrain from pinning
+his targets for pistol practice to the exterior of our building, we
+will bow our gratitude when next we meet. The bullets go right
+through.
+
+"We were distressed last week to note that Mr. James Hamilton, the
+gentlemanly and urbane proprietor of Wolfville's temple of
+terpsichoir (see ad, in another column) had changed whiskeys on us,
+and was dispensing what seemed to our throat a tincture of the
+common carpet tack of commerce. It is our hope that Mr. H., on
+seeing this, will at once restore the statu quo at his justly
+popular resort.
+
+"A reckless Mexican was parading the street the other night carrying
+in his hand a monkey wrench. It was dark, and Mr. Daniel Boggs, a
+leading citizen of Wolfville, who met him, mistaking the wrench for
+a pistol which the Mexican was carrying for some vile purpose, very
+properly shot him. Mexicans are far too careless this way.
+
+"The O. K. Restauraw is one of the few superior hostelries of the
+Territory. Mrs. Rucker, its charming proprietress, is a cook who
+might outrival even that celebrated chef, now dead, M. Soyer. Her
+pies are poems, her bread an epic, and her beans a dream, Mrs.
+Rucker has cooked her way to every heart, and her famed
+establishment is justly regarded as the bright particular gem in
+Wolfville's municipal crown.
+
+"It is not needed for us to remind our readers that Wolfville
+possesses in the person of that celebrated practitioner of medicine,
+Mr. Cadwallader Peets, M. D., a scientist whose fame is world-wide
+and whose renown has reached to furthest lands. Doctor Ports has
+beautifully mounted the skull of that horse-stealing ignobility,
+Bear Creel. Stanton, who recently suffered the punishment due his
+many crimes at the hands of our local vigilance committee, a
+tribunal which under the discerning leadership of President Enright,
+never fails in the administration of justice. Doctor Peets will be
+glad to exhibit this memento mori to all who care to call. Doctor
+Peets, who is eminent as a phrenologist, avers that said skull is
+remarkable for its thickness, and that its conformation points to
+the possession by Bear Creek, while he wore it, of the most powerful
+natural inclinations to crime. From these discoveries of Doctor
+Peets, the committee which suspended this felon to the windmill is
+to be congratulated on acting just in time. It seems plain from the
+contour of this skull that it would not have been long, had not the
+committee intervened, before Bear Creek would have added murder to
+horse larceny, and to-day the town might be mourning the death of a
+valued citizen instead of felicitating itself over the taking-off of
+a villain whose very bumps indict and convict him with every fair
+and enlightened intelligence that is brought to their contemplation.
+
+"Our respected friend and subscriber, Mr. David Tutt, and his
+beautiful and accomplished lady, Mrs. David Tutt, nee Tucson Jennie,
+have returned from their stay in Silver City. Last night in honor of
+their coming, and to see their friends, this amiable and popular
+pair gave an At Home. There was every form of refreshment, and joy
+and merriment was unconfined. Miss Faro Dell was admittedly the
+belle of this festive occasion, and Diana would have envied her as,
+radiant and happy, she led the grand march leaning on the arm of Mr.
+Cherokee Hall. By request of Mr. Daniel Boggs, the 'Lariat Polka'
+was added to the programme of dances, as was also the 'Pocatello
+Reel' at the instance of Mr. Texas Thompson. As the ball progressed,
+and at the particular desire of those present, Mr. Boggs and Mr.
+Thompson entertained the company with that difficult and intricate
+dance known as the 'Mountain Lion Mazourka,' accompanying their
+efforts with spirited vocalisms meant to imitate the defiant screams
+of a panther on its native hills. These cries, as well as the dance
+itself, were highly realistic, and Messrs. B. and T. were made the
+recipients of many compliments. Mr. and Mrs. Tutt are to be
+congratulated on the success of the function; to fully describe its
+many excellent features would exhaust encomium.
+
+"Which we reads the foregoin' with onmixed pleasure, an' thar ain't
+a gent but who's plumb convinced that a newspaper, that a-way, is
+the bulwark of civilizations an' corner-stone of American
+institootions, which it's allowed to be by the voices of them ages.
+
+"'This yere imprint, the Coyote,' says Jack Moore, 'is a howlin'
+triumph, an' any gent disposed can go an' make a swell bet on it
+with every certainty of a-killin'. Also, I remembers yereafter about
+them bullets.'
+
+"Meanwhile, like I states prior, Red Dog has its editor, who whirls
+loose a paper which he calls the Stingin' Lizard. The Red Dog sheet
+ain't a marker to Colonel Sterett's Coyote, an' it's the yooniversal
+idee in Wolfville, after ca'mly comparin' the two papers, that
+Colonel Sterett as a editor can simply back that Red Dog person
+plumb off the ground.
+
+"It ain't no time before Colonel Sterett an' the Red Dog editor
+takes to cirklin' for trouble, an' the frightful names they applies
+to each other in their respectif journals, an' the accoosations an'
+them epithets they hurls, would shore curdle the blood of a grizzly
+b'ar.
+
+"An' as if to complicate the sityooation for that onhappy sport
+who's gettin' out the Red Dog Stingin' Lizard, he begins to have
+trouble local. Thar's a chuck-shop at Red Dog--it's a plumb low
+j'int; I never knows it to have any grub better than beans, salt pig
+an' airtights,--which is called the Abe Lincoln House, an' is kept
+by a party named Pete Bland. Which this yere Bland also owns a goat,
+the same bein' a gift of a Mexican who's got in the hole to Bland
+an' squar's accounts that a-way.
+
+"This goat is jest a simple-minded, every-day, common kind of a
+goat; but he's mighty thorough in his way, allers on the hustle, an'
+if he ever overlooks a play, no one don't know it. One day, when the
+Red Dog editor is printin' off his papers, up comes the goat, an'
+diskyardin' of the tin-can which he's chewin', he begins debauchin'
+of himse'f with this yere edition of the Stingin' Lizard. It's
+mighty soon when the editor discovers it an' lays for the goat
+permiscus; he goes to chunkin' of him up a whole lot. The goat's
+game an' declar's himse'f, an' thar starts a altercation with the
+editor an' the goat, of which thar's no tellin' the wind-up, an'
+which ends only when this yere Bland cuts in, an' the goat's drug
+Borne. The paper is stopped an' the editor puts in this:
+
+"Our presses are stopped to-day to say that if the weak-minded
+person who maintains the large, black goat which infests our
+streets, does not kill the beast, we will. To-day, while engaged in
+working off our mammoth edition out back of our building, the
+thievish creature approached unnoticed and consumed seventeen copies
+of the Stingin' Lizard.
+
+"Which this yere Bland gets incensed at this, an' puts it up the
+editor can't eat with him no more. But better counsel smooths it
+over, an' at last this Bland forgives the editor, an' all is forgot.
+The goat, however, never does; an' he stamps his foot an' prowls
+'round for a fracas every tine him an' that editor meets.
+
+"All this yere time Colonel Sterett an' this same Red Dog editor
+maintains them hostilities. The way they lams loose at each other in
+their papers is a terror. I allers reckons Colonel Sterett gets a
+heap the best of this yere mane-chewin'; we-all so regards it, an'
+so does he, an' he keeps his end up with great sperit an' voylence.
+
+"These yore ink-riots don't go on more'n two months, however, when
+Colonel Sterett decides that the o'casion calls for somethin' more
+explicit. As he says, 'Patience ceases to be trumps,' an' so he
+saddles up a whole lot an' rides over to Red Dog, personal. Colonel
+Sterett don't impart them plans of his to no one; he simply descends
+on his foe, sole an' alone, like that game an' chivalrous gent of
+bell letters which he shorely is; an', son, Colonel Sterett makes a
+example of that slander-mongerin' Red Dog editor.
+
+"It's about the last drink time in the mornin', an' a passel of them
+Red Dog sports is convened in front of the Tub of Blood s'loon, when
+they-all hears a crash an' looks up, an' thar's their editor a-
+soarin' out of his second-story window. Of course, in a second or
+so, he hits the ground, an' them Red Dog folks goes over to get the
+rights of this yere phenomenon. He ain't hurt so but what he gets up
+an' limps 'round, an' he tells 'em it's the Wolfville editor does
+it. Next time the Stingin' Lizard comes out, we reads about it:
+
+"The gasconading reptile who is responsible for the slimy life of
+that prurient sheet, the Coyote, paid us a sneaking visit Saturday.
+If he had given us notice of his intentions, we would have prepared
+ourselves and torn his leprous hide from his dehauched and whiskey-
+poisoned frame, and polluted our fence with it, but he did not. True
+to his low, currish nature, he crept upon us unawares. Our back was
+toward him as he entered, perceiving which the cowardly poltroon
+seized us and threw us through our own window. Having accomplished
+his fiendish work, the miscreant left, justly fearing our wrath. The
+Stinging Lizard's exposure of this scoundrel as a drunkard,
+embezzler, wife-beater, jail-bird, thief, and general all-round
+blackleg prompted this outrage. Never mind, the creature will hear
+from us.
+
+"'Which this newspaper business is shorely gettin' some bilious, not
+to say hectic, a whole lot,' says Dan Boggs, as we reads this. 'I
+wonder if these yere folks means fight?'
+
+"'Why,' says Enright, 'I don't know as they'd fight none if we-all
+lets 'em alone, but I don't see how we can. This sort of racket goes
+on for years in the East, but Wolfville can't stand it. Sech talk as
+this means blood in Arizona, an' we insists on them traditions that
+a-way bein' respected. Besides, we owes somethin' to Colonel
+Sterett.'
+
+"So Enright an' Cherokee hunts up our editor an' asks him whatever
+he aims to do, an' tells him he's aroused public sentiments to sech
+heights thar'll be a pop'lar disapp'intment if he don't challenge
+the Red Dog editor an' beef him. Colonel Sterett allows he's crazy
+to do it, an' that the Wolfville public can gamble he'll go the
+distance. So Cherokee an' Jack Moore puts on their guns an' goes
+over to Red Dog to fix time an' place. The Red Dog editor says he's
+with 'em, an' they shakes dice for place, an' Cherokee an' Moore
+wins.
+
+"'Which as evidence of good faith,' says Cherokee, 'we picks Red
+Dog. We pulls this thing off on the very scene of the vict'ry of
+Colonel Sterett when he hurls your editor through his window that
+time. I holds the same to be a mighty proper scheme.'
+
+"'You-all needn't be timid none to come,' says the Red Dog sports.
+'You gets a squar' deal from a straight deck; you can gamble on
+that.'
+
+"'Oh, we ain't apprehensif none,' says Cherokee an' Jack; 'you can
+shorely look for us.'
+
+"Well, the day's come, an' all Wolfville an' Red Dog turns out to
+see the trouble. Jack Moore an' Cherokee Hall represents for our
+editor, an' a brace of Red Dog people shows down for the Stingin'
+Lizard man. To prevent accidents, Enright an' the Red Dog chief
+makes every gent but them I names, leave their weepons some'ers
+else, wherefore thar ain't a gun in what you-all might call the
+hands of the pop'laces.
+
+"But thar comes a interruption. Jest as them dooelists gets placed,
+thar's a stoopendous commotion, an' char gin' through the crowd
+comes that abandoned goat. The presence of so many folks seems like
+it makes him onusual hostile. Without waitin' to catch his breath
+even, he lays for the Red Dog editor, who, seein' him comin', bangs
+away with his '45 an' misses. The goat hits that author in the tail
+of his coat, an' over he goes; but he keeps on slammin' away with
+the '45 jest the same.
+
+"Which nacherally everybody scatters fur cover at the first shot,
+'cause the editor ain't carin' where he p'ints, an' in a second
+nobody's in sight but them two journalists an' that goat. I'll say
+right yere, son, Colonel Sterett an' his fellow editor an' the goat
+wages the awfullest battle which I ever beholds. Which you shorely
+oughter heard their expressions. Each of 'em lets go every load he's
+got, but the goat don't get hit onct.
+
+"When we-all counts twelve shots--six apiece--we goes out an'
+subdoos the goat by the power of numbers. Of course, the dooel's
+ended. The Red Dog folks borries a wagon an' takes away their man,
+who's suffered a heap; an' Peets, he stays over thar an' fusses
+'round all night savin' of him. The goat's all right an' goes back
+to the Abe Lincoln House, where this yere Pete Bland is onreasonable
+enough to back that shockin conduct of his'n.
+
+"Which it's the last of the Red Dog Stingin' Lizard. That editor
+allows he won't stay, an' Bland, still adherin' to his goat, allows
+he won't feed him none if he does. The next issue of the Stingin'
+Lizard contains this:
+
+"We bid adieu to Red Dog. We will hereafter publish a paper in
+Tucson; and if we have been weak and mendacious enough to speak in
+favor of a party of the name of Bland, who misconducts a low beanery
+which insults an honourable man by stealing his name--we refer to
+that feed-trough called the Abe Lincoln House--we will correct
+ourselves in its columns. This person harbours a vile goat, for
+whose death we will pay
+5, and give besides a life-long subscription to our new paper. Last
+week this mad animal made an unprovoked assault upon us and a
+professional brother, and beat, butted, wounded, bruised and ill-
+treated us until we suffer in our whole person. We give notice as we
+depart, that under no circumstances will we return until this goat
+is extinct.
+
+"Followin' the onexpected an' thrillin' finish of Colonel Sterett's
+dooel with the Red Dog editor, an' from which Colonel Sterett
+emerges onscathed, an' leavin' Peets with his new patient, we all
+returns in a body to Wolfville. After refreshments in the Red Light,
+Enright gives his views.
+
+"'Ondoubted,' observes Enright, 'our gent, Colonel Sterett, conducts
+himse'f in them painful scenes between him an' the goat an' that Red
+Dog editor in a manner to command respects, an' he returns with
+honors from them perils. Ther's no more to be done. The affair
+closes without a stain on the 'scutcheon of Wolfville, or the fair
+fame of Colonel Sterett; which last may continyoo to promulgate his
+valyooable paper, shore of our confidence an' upheld by our esteem.
+It is not incumbent on him to further pursoo this affair.
+
+His name an' honor is satisfied; besides, no gent can afford the
+recognitions and privileges of the dooello to a party who's sunk so
+low as to have hostile differences with a goat, an' who persists
+publicly in followin'em to bitter an voylent concloosions. This Red
+Dog editor's done put himself outside the pale of any high-sperited
+gent's consideration by them actions, an' can claim no further
+notice. Gents, in the name of Wolfville, I tenders congrat'lations
+to Colonel Sterett on the way in which he meets the dangers of his
+p'sition, an' the sooperb fashion!!! which he places before us one
+of the greatest journals of our times. Gents, we drinks to Colonel
+William Greene Sterett an' the Coyote.'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+Cherokee Hall Plays Poker.
+
+
+"Nacherally I'm not much of a sport," remarked the Old Cattleman,
+as he laid down a paper which told a Monte Carlo story of a fortune
+lost and won. "Which I'm not remorseless enough to be a cleanstrain
+gambler. Of course, a kyard sharp can make benevolences an' lavish
+dust on the needy on the side, but when it gets to a game for money,
+he can't afford no ruthfulness that a-way, tryin' not to hurt the
+sore people. He must play his system through, an' with no more
+conscience than cows, no matter who's run down in the stampede. "For
+which causes, bein' plumb tender an' sympathetic, I'm shore no good
+with kyards; an' whenever I dallies tharwith, it is onder the head
+of amoosements. "Do I regyard gamblin' as immoral? No; I don't
+reckon none now I do. This bein' what you--all church sharps calls
+moral is somewhat a matter of health, an' likewise the way you
+feels. Sick folks usual is a heap more moral than when their
+health's that excellent it's tantalizin'. "Speakin' of morals, I
+recalls people who would scorn kyards, but who'd admire to buy a
+widow's steers for four dollars an' saw 'em off ag'in for forty.
+They'd take four hundred dollars if some party, locoed to a degree
+which permits said outrage, would turn up. The right or wrong, what
+you calls the morality of gatherin' steers for four dollars an'
+plunderin' people with 'em at forty dollars, wouldn't bother 'em a
+bit. Which the question with these yere wolves is simply: 'How
+little can I pay an' how much can I get?' An' yet, as I says, sech
+parties mighty likely holds themse'fs moral to a degree which is
+mountainous, an' wouldn't take a twist at faro-bank, or pick up a
+poker hand, more'n they'd mingle with t'rant'lers an' stingin'
+lizards. An' some of their moral sports is so onlib'ral! I tells
+you, son, I've met up with 'em who's that stingy that if they owned
+a lake, they wouldn't give a duck a drink.
+
+"'Gamblin' is immoral that a-way,' says these yere sports.
+
+"An' yet I don't see no sech heinous difference between searchin' a
+gent for his roll with steers at forty dollars--the same standin'
+you in four--an' layin for him by raisin' the ante for the limit
+before the draw. Mighty likely thar's a reason why one's moral an'
+the other's black an' bad, but I admits onblushin'ly that the
+onearthin' tharof is shore too many for dim-eyed folks like me. They
+strikes me a heap sim'lar; only the kyard sharp goes out ag'inst
+chances which the steer sharp escapes complete.
+
+"I reckons Cherokee Hall an' me discusses how wrong gamblin' is
+hundreds of times on leesure days; we frequent talks of it
+immoderate. Cherokee's views an' mine is side an' side, mostly,
+although, makin' his livin' turnin' kyards, of course he's more
+qualified to speak than me.
+
+"'Which I shore finds nothin' wrong in farobank,' says Cherokee.
+'Thar's times, however, when some sport who's locoed by bad luck, or
+thinks he's wronged gets diffusive with his gun. At sech epocks this
+device has its burdens, I concedes. But I don't perceive no
+immorality; none whatever.'
+
+"Yes, now you asks the question, I does inform you a while back of
+this Cherokee Hall bein' prone to charity. He never is much of a
+talker, but in his way he's a mighty gregar'ous gent. About some
+things he's game as hornets, Cherokee is; but his nerve fails him
+when it comes to seein' other people suffer. He can stand bad luck
+himse'f, an' never turn a ha'r; but no one else's bad luck.
+
+"It ain't once a week, but it's every day, when this yere gray-eyed
+sport is robbin' his roll for somebody who's settin' in ag'inst
+disaster. Fact; Cherokee's a heap weak that a-way.
+
+"Of course, turnin' faro, Cherokee knows who has money an' who needs
+it; keeps tab, so to speak, on the fluctooations of the camp's
+finances closer'n anybody. The riches an' the poverty of Wolfville
+is sort o' exposin' itse'f 'round onder his nose; it's a open book
+to him; an' the knowledge of who's flat, or who's flush, is thrust
+onto him continyoous. As I says, bein' some sentimental about them
+hard ships of others, the information costs Cherokee hard onto a
+diurnal stack or two.
+
+"'Which you're too impulsive a whole lot,' I argues onct when a
+profligate he's staked, an' who reports himse'f as jumpin' sideways
+for grub previous, goes careerin' over to the dance hall with them
+alms he's wrung, an' proceeds on a debauch. 'You oughter not allow
+them ornery folks to do you. If you'd cultivate the habit of lettin'
+every gent go a-foot till he can buy a hoss, you'd clean up for a
+heap more at the end of the week. Now this ingrate whose hand you
+stiffens ain't buyin' nothin' but nose-paint tharwith.'
+
+"'Which the same plants no regrets with me,' says Cherokee, all
+careless an' indifferent. 'If this person is sufferin' for whiskey
+worse'n he's sufferin' for bread, let him loose with the whiskey.
+The money's his. When I gives a gent a stake, thar's nothin' held
+back. I don't go playin' the despot as to how he blows it. If this
+yere party I relieves wants whiskey an' is buyin' whiskey, I
+approves his play. If I've a weakness at all, it's for seein' folks
+fetterless an' free.'
+
+"While holdin' Cherokee's views erroneous, so far as he seeks to
+apply 'em to paupers tankin' up on donations, still I allows it's
+dealin' faro which has sp'iled him; an' as you can't make no gent
+over new, I quits an' don't buck his notions about dispensin'
+charity no more. "Thar's times when this yere Cherokee Hall caroms
+on a gent who's high-strung that a-way, an' won't take no donations;
+which this yere sport may be plenty needy to the p'int of perishin',
+too. That's straight; thar's nachers which is that reluctant about
+aid, they simply dies standin' before they'll ever ask.
+
+"Once or twice when Cherokee crosses up with one of these yere
+sensitif souls, an' who's in distress, he never says a word about
+givin' him anythin'; he turns foxy an' caps him into a little poker.
+An' in the course of an hour--for he has to go slow an' cunnin', so
+he don't arouse the victim to suspicions that he's bein' played--
+Cherokee'll disarrange things so he loses a small stake to him. When
+he's got this distressed gent's finances reehabilitated some, he
+shoves out an' quits.
+
+"'An' you can put it flat down,' remarks Cherokee, who's
+sooperstitious, 'I never loses nothin' nor quits behind on these
+yere benevolences. Which I oft observes that Providence comes back
+of my box before ever the week's out, an' makes good.'
+
+"'I once knows a sport in Laredo,' says Texas Thompson, to whom
+Cherokee is talkin', 'an' is sort o' intimate with him. He's holdin'
+to somethin' like your system, too, an' plays it right along.
+Whenever luck's ag'in him to a p'int where he's lost half his roll,
+he breaks the last half in two an' gives one part to some charity
+racket. he tells me himse'f he's been addicted to this scheme so
+long it's got to be a appetite, an' that he never fails to win
+himse'f outen the hole with what's left. You bet! I believes it; I
+sees this hold-up do it.'
+
+"I ain't none shore thar ain't some bottom to them bluffs which
+Cherokee an' Texas puts up about Providence stockin' a deck your
+way, an' makin' good them gifts. At least, thar's times when it
+looks like it a heap. An' what I'll now relate shows it.
+
+"One time Cherokee has it sunk deep in his bosom to he'p a gent
+named Ellis to somethin' like a yellow stack, so he can pull his
+freight for home. He's come spraddlin' into the West full of hope,
+an' allowin' he's goin' to get rich in a day. An' now when he finds
+how the West is swift an' hard to beat, he's homesick to death.
+
+"But Ellis ain't got the dinero. Now Cherokee likes him--for Ellis
+is a mighty decent form of shorthorn--an' concloodes, all by
+himse'f, he'll stand in on Ellis' destinies an' fix 'em up a lot.
+Bein' as Ellis is a easy maverick to wound, Cherokee decides it's
+better to let him think he wins the stuff, an' not lacerate him by
+no gifts direct. Another thing, this yere Ellis tenderfoot is plumb
+contrary; he's shore contrary to the notch of bein' cap'ble of
+declinin' alms absoloote.
+
+"To make certain Ellis is got rid of, an' headed homeward happy,
+Cherokee pulls on a little poker with Ellis; an' he takes in Dan
+Boggs on the play, makin' her three-handed, that a-way for a blind.
+Dan is informed of the objects of the meetin', an' ain't allowin' to
+more'n play a dummy hand tharin.
+
+"This yere Ellis makes a tangle at first, wantin to play faro-bank;
+but Cherokee, who can't control no faro game like he can poker, says
+'No;' he's dead weary of faro, turnin' it day an' dark; right then
+he is out for a little stretch at poker as mere relief. Also Dan
+objects strenyoous.
+
+"'Which I don't have no luck at faro-bank,' says Dan. 'I does
+nothin' but lose for a month; I'm made sullen by it. The only bet I
+stands to win at faro, for plumb four weeks, is a hundred dollars
+which I puts on a case queen, coppered, over in Tucson the other
+day. An' I lose that. I'm a hoss-thief if, exackly as the queen is
+comin' my way, that locoed Tucson marshal don't take a slam at a
+gent with his six-shooter an' miss; an' the bullet, which is dodgin'
+an' meanderin' down the room, crosses the layout between the dealer
+an' me, an' takes the top chip off my bet. An' with it goes the
+copper. Before I can restore them conditions, the queen falls to
+lose; an' not havin' no copper on my bet, of course, I'm
+impoverished for that hundred as aforesaid. You knows the roole--
+every bet goes as it lays. Said statoote is fully in force in
+Tucson; an' declinin' to allow anythin' for wild shootin' by that
+fool marshal, them outcasts corrals my chips. "However do I know
+thar's an accident?" says the dealer, as he rakes in that queen bet,
+while I'm expoundin' why it should be comin' to me. "Mebby she's an
+accident, an' mebby ag'in that hom'cide who's bustin' 'round yere
+with his gun, is in league with you-all, an' shoots that copper off
+designful, thinkin' the queen's comin' the other way. If accidents
+is allowed to control in faro-bank, the house would never win a
+chip." So,' concloodes Dan, 'they gets away with my hundred,
+invokin' strict rooles onto me. While I can't say they ain't right,
+I makes up my mind my luck's too rank for faro, an' registers vows
+not to put a peso on another layout for a year. As the time limit
+ain't up, I can't buck faro-bank none; but if you an' Ellis,
+Cherokee, can tol'rate a little draw, I'm your onmurmurin' dupe.'
+
+"As I relates prior, the play is to let Ellis win a home-stake an'
+quit. At last they begins, Ellis seein' thar's no chance for faro-
+bank. Dan plays but little; usual, he merely picks up his kyards,
+cusses a lot, an' passes out. Now an' then, when it's his ante, or
+Cherokee stays out for the looks of the thing, Dan goes to the front
+an' sweetens Ellis for a handful of chips.
+
+"Little by little, by layin' down good hands, breakin' pa'rs before
+a draw, an' gen'rally carryin' on tail-first an' scand'lous,
+Cherokee an' Dan is gettin' a few layers of fat on Ellis' ribs. But
+they has to lay low to do it. Oh! he'd kick over the table in a
+second if he even smells the play.
+
+"Now yere's where Providence makes its deboo. It happens while these
+charities is proceedin', a avaricious gent--a stranger within our
+gates, he is--after regyardin' the game awhile, takes to deemin' it
+easy. The avaricious gent wants in; an' as Ellis, who's a heap
+elated at his luck an' is already talkin' of the killin' he's
+makin', says 'Yes,' an' as Dan an' Cherokee can't say 'No' without
+bein' onp'lite, the avaricious gent butts in. It all disturbs
+Cherokee, who's a nervous sharp; an' when he sees how greedy the
+avaricious gent is for what he deems to be a shore thing, he
+concloodes to drop him plenty hard. "It's four-hand poker now, an'
+the game wags on for a dozen hands. Dan is in hard luck; Cherokee on
+his part gets driven out each hand; an' Ellis an' the avaricious
+gent is doin' what little winnin's bein' done, between 'em. It's
+evident by this time, too, the avaricious gent's layin' for
+Cherokee. This oninstructed person looks on Cherokee as both
+imbecile an' onlucky to boot.
+
+"The avaricious gent gets action suddener than he thinks. It's a
+jack pot. She goes by Ellis an' Dan; then Cherokee breaks her for
+the limit, two bloo chips, the par value whereof is ten dollars.
+"'You breaks for ten?' says the avaricious gent, who's on Cherokee's
+left an' has the last say; 'well, I sees the break an' lifts it the
+limit.' An' the avaricious gent puts up four bloos. Ellis an' Dan,
+holdin' nothin' an' gettin' crafty, ducks.
+
+"When the avaricious gent puts up his four bloo beans, Cherokee does
+somethin' no one ever sees him do before. He gets quer'lous an'
+complainin', an' begins to fuss a lot over his bad luck.
+
+"'What did you-all come in for?' he says to the avaricious gent, as
+peevish as a sick infant. 'You sees me settin' yere in the muddiest
+of luck; can't you a-bear to let me win a pot? You ain't got no hand
+to come in on neither, an' I'll bet on it. You jest nacherally
+stacks in, relyin' on bluffin' me, or out-luckin' me on the draw.
+Well, you can't bluff; I'll see this yere through,' says Cherokee,
+puttin' up two more sky-colored beans an' actin' like he's gettin'
+heated, 'if it takes my last chip. As I do, however, jest to onmask
+you an' show my friends, as I says, that you ain't got a thing, I'll
+wager you two on the side, right now, that the pa'r of jacks I
+breaks on, is bigger than the hand on which you comes in an' makes
+that two-button tilt.' As he says this, Cherokee regyards the
+avaricious gent like he's plumb disgusted.
+
+"It turns out, when Cherokee makes this yere long an' fretful break,
+the avaricious gent's holdin' a brace of kings. He's delighted with
+Cherokee's uproar, an' thinks how soft, an' what a case of open-
+work, he is.
+
+"'You offers two bloos I can't beat a pa'r of jacks?' says the
+avaricious gent. Which he's plumb wolf, an' out for every drop of
+blood!
+
+"'That's what I says,' replies Cherokee, some sullen.
+
+"`I goes you,' says the avaricious gent, showin' a pa'r of kings.
+
+"'Thar you be,' snarls Cherokee, with a howl like a sore-head dog,
+a-chuckin' the avaricious gent a couple of chips; 'thar you go
+ag'in! I can't beat nothin'; which I couldn't beat a drum! "The
+avaricious gent c'llects them two azure bones; after which he
+diskyards three, drawin' to his two kings, an' sets back to win the
+main pot. He shore concloodes it's a red letter round-up for him.
+
+"`I reckons now that I knows what you has,' says Cherokee,
+displayin' a ace in a foolish way, 'I upholds this yere ace on the
+side an' asks for two kyards.'
+
+"The avaricious gent adds a third king to his list an' feels like
+sunny weather. Cherokee picks up his hand after the draw, an' the
+avaricious gent, who's viewin' him sharp, notes that he looks a heap
+morbid.
+
+"All at once Cherokee braces up mighty savage, like he's ugly an'
+desp'rate about his bad luck.
+
+"'If this yere limit was any size at all, a blooded gent might stand
+some show. Which I'd bluff you outen your moccasins if I wasn't
+reepressed by a limit whereof a child should be ashamed. I shore
+don't know how I mislays my se'f-respect to sech a pitch as to go
+settin' into these yere paltry plays.'
+
+"'Which you see yere a lot!' says the avaricious gent, shakin' with
+delight, an' lookin' at them three crowned heads he holds; 'don't
+howl all night about a wrong what's so easy to rectify. We removes
+the limits, an' you can spread your pinions an' soar to any
+altitoode you please.'
+
+"Cherokee looks at him hateful as a murderer; he seems like he's
+bein' goaded. Then, like he's made up his mind to die right yere,
+Cherokee turns in without no more words an' bets five hundred
+dollars. It makes Ellis, who's new an' plumb poor that a-way, sort
+o' draw a long breath.
+
+"'Which you'll climb some for this pot if you gets it,' says
+Cherokee, after his money's up; an' his tones is shore resentful.
+
+"The avaricious gent thinks it's a bluff. He deems them three kings
+good. Cherokee most likely don't better by the draw. If he does,
+it's nothin' worse than aces up, or a triangle of jacks. That's the
+way this sordid sport lines up Cherokee's hand. "'Merely to show you
+the error of your ways,' he remarks, 'an' to teach you to lead a
+'happier an' a better life, I sees your five hundred an' raises her
+back the same.' An' the avaricious gent counts off a thousand
+dollars. 'Thar,' he says when it's up, 'now go as far as you like.
+Make it a ceilin' play if the sperit moves you.'
+
+"'I sees it an' lifts her for five hundred more,' retorts Cherokee.
+An' he shoves his dust to the center. "Cherokee's peevishness is
+gone, an' his fault-findin' is over. He's turned as confident an'
+easy as a old shoe.
+
+"It strikes the avaricious gent as alarmin', this quick switch in
+the way Cherokee feels. It's cl'ar, as one looks in his face, that
+them trio of kings ain't no sech monstrosities as they was. He ain't
+half so shore they wins. After lookin' a while he says, an' his
+tones shows he's plumb doobious:
+
+"'That last raise over-sizes me.'
+
+"`That's it!' groans Cherokee, like his contempt for all mankind is
+comin' back. 'By the time I gets a decent hand every sport at the
+table's broke. What show do I have! However, I pinches down to meet
+your poverty. Put up what stuff you has.'
+
+"The avaricious gent slowly gets up his last peso; he's out on a
+limb, an' he somehow begins to feel it. When the money's up,
+Cherokee throws down three aces an' a pa'r of nines, an' rakes the
+dust.
+
+"'Next time,' says Cherokee, 'don't come fomentin' 'round poker
+games which is strangers to you complete. Moreover, don't let a gent
+talk you into fal'cies touchin' his hand. Which I'm the proud
+proprietor of them three aces when I breaks the pot. You-all lose
+this time; but if you'll only paste them dogmas I gives you in your
+sombrero, an' read 'em over from time to time, you'll notice they
+flows a profit. We three, 'concloodes Cherokee, turnin' ag'in to Dan
+an' Ellis, 'will now resoome our wrong-doin' at the p'int where this
+yere former plootocrat interrupts. A benign Providence has fixed me
+plenty strong. Wherefore, if either of you sports should tap me for
+a handful of hundreds, them veins of mine will stand the drain. Dan,
+it's your deal.'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+The Treachery of Curly Ben
+
+
+"ere! you black boy, Tom!" and the Old Cattleman's voice rose
+loudly as he commanded the approach of that buoyant servitor, who
+supervised his master's destinies, and performed in the triangular
+role of valet, guardian and friend. "Yere, you; go to the barkeep of
+this tavern an' tell him to frame me up a pitcher of that peach
+brandy an' honey the way I shows him how. An' when he's got her
+organized, bring it out to us with two glasses by the fire. You-all
+ain't filin' no objections to a drink, be you?" This last was to me.
+"As for me, personal," he continued, "you can put down a bet I'm as
+dry as a covered bridge." I readily assented to peach and honey. I
+would agree to raw whiskey if it were needed to appease him and
+permit me to remain in his graces.
+
+"Thar's one thing, one redeemin' thing I might say, about the East,"
+he went on, when the peach and honey appeared, "an' the same claims
+my respects entire; that's its nose-paint. Which we shorely suffers
+in the Southwest from beverages of the most ornery kind."
+
+"There's a word I've wanted to ask you about more than once," I
+said. "What do you mean by 'ornery,' and where do you get it?"
+
+"Where do I get it?" he responded, with a tinge of scorn. "Where do
+I rope onto any word? I jest nacherally reaches out an' acquires it
+a whole lot, like I do the rest of the language I employs. As for
+what it means, I would have allowed that any gent who escapes bein'
+as weak-minded as Thompson's colt--an' that cayouse is that imbecile
+he used tos wim a river to get a drink--would hesitate with shame to
+ask sech questions.
+
+"'Ornery' is a word the meanin' whereof is goin' to depend a heap on
+what you brands with it." This was said like an oracle. "Also, the
+same means more or less accordin' to who all puts the word in play.
+I remembers a mighty decent sort of sport, old Cape Willingham it
+is; an' yet Dan Boggs is forever referrin' to old Cape as 'ornery.'
+An' I reckon Dan thinks he is. Which the trouble with Cape, from
+Dan's standpoint, is this: Cape is one of these yere precise
+parties, acc'rate as to all he does, an' plenty partic'lar about his
+looks. An Osage buck, paintin' for a dance, wouldn't worry more over
+his feachers, an' the way the ocher should be streaked on.
+
+"Now this yere Cape is shy an eye, where an Apache pokes it out with
+a lance, back in Cochise's time; an', as he regyards his countenance
+as seemin' over rocky, bein' redooced to one eye as I relates, he
+sends East an' gets a glass eye. This ain't where Cape's
+technical'ties about his looks trails in, however; an', if he had
+paused thar in his rehabilitations, Boggs allers put it up he'd a-
+found no fault. But Cape notices that about tenth drink time his
+shore-enough eye begins for to show up bloodshot, an' is a bad mate
+for the glass eye, the same bein' onaffected by drink. So what does
+Cape do but have a bloodshot eye made, an' takes to packin' the same
+on his person constant. As Cape drinks his forty drops all
+commodious, he sort o' keeps tabs on himse'f in the lookin' glass
+back of the bar; an' when the good eye commences to turn red with
+them libations he's countin' into the corral, he ups an' shifts his
+bresh; digs out the white eye an' plants the drunken eye in the
+place.
+
+"Shore! none of us cares except Dan Boggs; but Dan feels it to that
+extent, it's all Colonel Sterett an' Doc Peets an' Old Man Enright
+can do, added to Dan's bein' by nacher a born gent that a-way, to
+keep Dan from mentionin' it to old Cape.
+
+"'A gent who comes from a good fam'ly, like you-all,' says Old Man
+Enright to Dan, sort o' soothin' of him, 'oughter be removed above
+makin' comments on pore old Cape shiftin' his optics. Troo! it's a
+weakness, but where is the sport who hasn't weaknesses likewise.
+Which you-all is a mighty sight to one side of bein' perfect
+yourse'f, Dan, an' yet we don't go 'round breakin' the information
+off in you every tinic you makes a queer play. An' you must b'ar
+with Cape, an' them caprices of his.' "'I ain't denyin' nothin','
+declar's Dan. 'I'm the last longhorn in Wolfville to be revilin' old
+Cape, an' refoosin' him his plain American right to go pirootin'
+'round among his eyes as suits his taste. But I'm a mighty nervous
+man that a-way, an' Cape knows, or oughter know, how, as I states,
+I'm nacherally all onstrung, an' that his carryin's on with them
+eyes gives me the fantods. Onder all the circumstances, I claims his
+conduct is ornery, an' not what a invalid like me has a right to
+expect.'
+
+"No; Dan never says nothin' to Cape; or does anythin' 'cept talk to
+Enright an' the rest of us about how he can't stand Cape shiftin'
+them eyes. An' it ain't affectation on the part of Dan; he shorely
+feels them shifts. Many a time, when it's go to be red eye time with
+Cape, an' as the latter is scroop'lously makin' said transfers, have
+I beheld Dan arise in silent agony, an' go to bite hunks outen a
+pine shelf that is built on the Red Light wall.
+
+"'Which that ornery Cape,' says Dan, as he picks the splinters from
+his mouth after sech exercises, 'would drive me as locoed as a
+coyote if I don't take refooge in some sech play like that.'
+
+"But, as I su'gests about this term 'ornery;' it depends a lot on
+who uses it, an' what for. Now Dan never refers to old Cape except
+as 'ornery;' while Enright an' the rest of us sees nothin' from soda
+to hock in Cape, doorin' them few months he mingles with us, which
+merits sech obloquys.
+
+"No; ornery is a word that means what it says an' is shore
+deescriptif. Coyotes is ornery, sheep is ornery; an' them low-flung
+hoomans who herds sheep is ornery, speshul. Of course, the term has
+misapplications; as an extreme case, I've even heard ign'rant
+tenderfeet who alloodes to the whole West as 'ornery.' But them
+folks is too debased an' too darkened to demand comments."
+
+"You are very loyal to the West," I remarked.
+
+"Which I shorely oughter be," retorted the old gentleman. "The West
+has been some loyal to me. Troo! it stands to reason that a party
+fresh from the East, where the horns has been knocked offen
+everythin' for two or three hundred years, an' conditions genial is
+as soft as a goose-ha'r pillow, is goin' to notice some turgid
+changes when he lands in Arizona. But a shorthorn, that a-way,
+should reserve his jedgment till he gets acquainted, or gets
+lynched, or otherwise experiences the West in its troo colors. While
+Arizona, for speciment, don't go up an' put her arms about the neck
+of every towerist that comes chargin' into camp, her failure to
+perform said rites arises rather from dignity than hauteur. Arizona
+don't put on dog; but she has her se'f-respectin' ways, an' stands a
+pat hand on towerists.
+
+"If I was called on to lay out a system to guide a tenderfoot who is
+considerin' on makin' Arizona his home-camp, I'd advise him to make
+his deboo in that territory in a sperit of ca'm an' silent se'f-
+reliance. Sech a gent might reside in Wolfville, say three months.
+He might meet her citizens, buck her faro-banks, drink her nose-
+paint, shake a hilarious hoof in her hurdy gurdies, ask for his
+letters, or change in whatever sums seems meet to him at the New
+York Store for shirts. Also, he might come buttin' along into the O.
+K. Restauraw three times a day with the balance of the band, an'
+Missis Rucker would shorely turn her grub-game for him, for the
+limit if he so pleased. But still, most likely every gent in camp
+would maintain doorin' his novitiate a decent distance with this
+yere stranger; they wouldn't onbuckle an' be drunk with him free an'
+social like, an' with the bridle off, like pards who has crossed the
+plains together an' seen extremes. All this, with a chill onto it, a
+tenderfoot would find himse'f ag'inst for the first few months in
+Wolfville.
+
+"An' yet, my steer to him would be not to get discouraged. The
+camp's sizin' him up; that's all. If he perseveres, ca'm an'
+c'llected like I states, along the trail of his destiny, he'll shore
+come winner on the deal. At the end of three months, or mebby in
+onusual cases four months, jest as this yere maverick is goin' into
+the dance hall, or mebby the Red Light, some gent will chunk him one
+in the back with his shet fist an' say, 'How be you? You double-
+dealin', cattle-stealin', foogitive son of a murdererin' hoss-thief,
+how be you?'
+
+"Now, right thar is whar this yere shorthorn wants to maintain his
+presence of mind. He don't want to go makin' no vain plays for his
+six-shooter, or indulge in no sour ranikaboo retorts. That gent
+likes him. With Wolfville social conditions, this yere greetin' is
+what you sports who comes from the far No'th calls 'the beginnin' of
+the thaw. The ice is breakin' up; an' if our candidate sets in his
+saddle steady an' with wisdom at this back-thumpin', name-callin'
+epock, an' don't take to millin' 'round for trouble, in two minutes
+him an' that gregar'ous gent who's accosted him is drinkin' an'
+fraternizin' together like two stage hold-ups in a strange camp. The
+West ain't ornery; she's simply reserved a whole lot.
+
+"Mighty likely now," continued my friend, following a profound pause
+which was comfortably filled with peach and honey; "it's mighty
+likely now, comin' down to folks, that the most ornery party I ever
+knows is Curly Ben. This yere Ben is killed, final; clowned by old
+Captain Moon. Thar's a strange circumstance attendin', as the papers
+say, the obliteration of this Curly Ben, an' it makes a heap of an
+impression on me at the time. It shows how the instinct to do
+things, that a bent is allers carryin' 'round in his mind, gets sort
+o' located in his nerves mebby, an' he'll do 'em without his
+intellects ridin' herd on the play--do 'em like Curly Ben does,
+after his light is out complete.
+
+"This yere is what I'm trailin' up to: When Captain Moon fetches
+Curly Ben that time, Curly is playin' kyards. He's jest dealin',
+when, onbeknown to him, Moon comes Injunin' up from the r'ar
+surreptitious, an' drills Curly Ben through the head; an' the bullet
+bein' a '45 Colt's--for Moon ain't toyin' with Curly an' means
+business--goes plumb through an' emerges from onder Curly Ben's off
+eye. For that matter, it breaks the arm of a party who's playin'
+opp'site to Curly, an' who is skinnin' his pasteboards at the time,
+thinkin' nothin' of war. Which the queer part is this: Curly, as I
+states--an' he never knows what hits him, an' is as dead as Santa
+Anna in a moment--is dealin' the kyards. He's got the deck in his
+hands. An' yet, when the public picks Curly off the floor, he's
+pulled his two guns, an' has got one cocked. Now what do you--all
+deem of that for the workin' of a left-over impulse when a gent is
+dead?
+
+"But, as I remarks yeretofore, Curly Ben is the most ornery person I
+ever overtakes, an' the feelin's of the camp is in nowise laid waste
+when Moon adds him to the list that time in the Red Light bar. It's
+this a-way:
+
+"It's about a month before, when Captain Moon an' his nephy, with
+two 8-mule teams and four big three-an'-a-half Bain wagons, two lead
+an' two trail they be, comes freightin' out of Silver City with
+their eyes on Wolfville. It's the fourth night out, an' they're
+camped near a Injun agency. About midnight a half dozen of the bucks
+comes scoutin' 'round their camp, allowin' to a moral certainty
+they'll see what's loose an' little enough for 'em to pull. The
+aborigines makes the error of goin' up the wind from Moon's mules,
+which is grazin' about with hobbles on, an' them sagacious anamiles
+actooally has fits. It's a fact, if you want to see a mule go plumb
+into the air an' remain, jest let him get a good, ample,
+onmistakable smell of a Injun! It simply onhinges his reason; he
+ain't no more responsible than a cimmaron sheep. No, it ain't that
+the savage is out to do anything oncommon to the mule; it's merely
+one of the mule's illoosions, as I've told you once before. Jest the
+same, if them Injuns is comin' to braid his tail an' braid it tight,
+that mule couldn't feel more frantic.
+
+"When these yere faithful mules takes to surgin' about the scene on
+two feet, Moon's nephy grabs a Winchester an' pumps a load or so
+into the darkness for gen'ral results. An' he has a heap of luck. He
+shorely stops one of them Apaches in his lopin' up, an' down the
+land for good an' all.
+
+"In less than no time the whole tribe is down on Captain Moon an'
+his nephy, demandin' blood. Thar's plenty of some sorts of wisdom
+about a savage, an' these yere Apaches ain't runnin' right in on
+Moon an' his relatif neither. They was perfeekly familiar with the
+accoomulation of cartridges in a Winchester, an' tharfore goes about
+the stirrin' up of Moon an' that nepby plumb wary.
+
+"Moon an' the boy goes in between the wagons, blazin' an' bangin'
+away at whatever moves or makes a noise; an' as they've been all
+through sech festivals before, they regyards their final chances to
+be as good as an even break, or better.
+
+"While them Apaches is dodgin' about among the rocks, an' howlin'
+contempt, an' passin' resolootions of revenge touchin' the two
+Moons, the Injun agent comes troopin' along. He seeks to round-up
+his savages an' herd 'em back to the agency. The Apaches, on their
+side, is demandin' the capture of the nephy Moon for sp'ilin' one of
+their young men.
+
+"The agent is a prairie dog jest out from the East, an' don't know
+half as much about what's goin' on inside of a Apache as a horned
+toad. He comes down to the aige of hostil'ties, as you-all might
+call it, an' makes Moon an' his Winchester workin' nephy a speech.
+He addresses 'em a whole lot on the enormity of downin' Apaches who
+goes prowlin' about an' scarin' up your mules at midnight, in what
+this yere witless agent calls a 'motif of childish cur'osity,' an'
+he winds up the powwow with demandin' the surrender of the
+'hom'cide.'
+
+"'Surrender nothin'!' says Captain Moon. 'You tell your Injuns to
+line out for their camp; an' don't you yourse'f get too zealous
+neither an' come too clost, or as shore as I casts my first vote for
+Matty Van Buren, I'll plug you plumb center.'
+
+"But the nephy, he thinks different. In spite of Captain Moon's
+protests, he gives himse'f up to the agent on the promise of
+protection.
+
+"'You're gone, lad,' says Moon, when the nephy insists on yieldin';
+'you won't last as long as a pint of whiskey in a five-hand poker
+game.'
+
+"But this yere young Moon is obdurate an' goes over an' gives
+himse'f to the agent, who puts it up he'll send him to Prescott to
+be tried in co't for beefin' the mule-thief Apache that a-way.
+
+"Shore! it turns out jest as Captain Moon says. Before they'd gone a
+half mile, them wards of the gov'ment, as I once hears a big chief
+from Washin'ton call 'em, takes the nephy from this yere fallacious
+agent an' by fourth drink time that mornin', or when it's been sun-
+up three hours, that nephy is nothin' but a mem'ry.
+
+"How do they kill him? In a fashion which, from the coigne your
+Apache views things, does 'em proud. That nephy is immolated as
+follows: They ropes him out, wrist an' ankle, with four lariats;
+pegs him out like he's a hide they're goin' to dry. Thar's a big ant
+hill close at hand; it's with reference to this yere ant colony that
+the nephy is staked out. In three hours from the tune them ants gets
+the word from the Apaches, they've done eat the nephy up, an' the
+last vestitch of him plumb disappears with the last ant, as the
+latter resoomes his labors onder the earth.
+
+"Why, shore! these yere ants'll eat folks. They re-yards sech
+reepasts as festivals, an' seasons of reelaxation from the sterner
+dooties of a ant. I recalls once how we loses Locoed Charlie, which
+demented party I b'lieve I mentions to you prior. This yere Charlie
+takes a day off from where he's workin'--at least he calls it labor-
+-at the stage corrals, an' goes curvin' over to Red Dog. Charlie
+tanks up on the whiskey of that hamlet, compared to which the worst
+nose-paint ever sold in Wolfville is nectar. They palms off mebby
+it's a quart of this jooce on Charlie, an' then he p'ints out for
+Wolfville.
+
+"That's the last of the pore drunkard. His pony is nickcrin' about
+the corral gates, pleadin' with the mules inside to open 'em, in the
+mornin', but no sign or smoke of Locoed Charlie. An' he never does
+show up no more.
+
+"If it's Enright or Cherokee Hall, or any valyooed citizen, thar
+would have issooed forth a war party, an' Red Dog would have been
+sacked an' burned but what the missin' gent would have been turned
+out. But it's different about Locoed Charlie. He hadn't that hold on
+the pop'lar heart; didn't fill sech a place in the gen'ral eye; an'
+so, barrin' a word or two of wonder, over their drink at the Red
+Light, I don't reckon now the Wolfville folks disturbs themse'fs
+partic'lar about the camp bein' shy Charlie.
+
+"It's the second day when a teamster, trackin' over from Red Dog,
+developes what's left of Locoed Charlie. He falls off his hoss, with
+that load of Red Dog whiskey, an' every notion or idee or sensation
+absolootely effaced. An' where Charlie loses is, he falls by a ant
+hill. Yes; they shorely takes Charlie in. Thar's nothin' left of him
+when the teamster locates the remainder, but his clothes, his spurs
+an' his 'natomy. The r'ar gyard of them ants has long since retired
+with the final fragments of Locoed Charlie. "You-all might o' seen
+the story. Colonel Sterett writes it up in the Coyote, an' heads it,
+'Hunger is a Terrible Thing.' This sot Charlie comin' to his death
+that a-way puts a awful scare over Huggins an' Old Monte. It reforms
+'em for more'n two hours. Huggins, who is allers frontin' up as one
+who possesses public sperit, tries to look plumb dignified about it,
+an' remarks to Dave Tutt in the New York Store as how he thinks we
+oughter throw in around an' build a monument to Locoed Charlie. Dave
+allows that, while he's with Huggins in them projecks, he wants to
+add a monument to the ants. The founders of the scheme sort o'
+splittin' at the go-in that a-way, it don't get no further, an' the
+monument to Locoed Charlie, as a enterprise, bogs down. But to
+continyoo on the trail of Captain Moon.
+
+"Moon comes rumblin' into Wolfville, over-doo mebby it's two weeks,
+bringin' both teams. Thar-upon he relates them outrages. Thar's but
+one thought, that agent has lived too long.
+
+"'If he was the usual common form of felon,' says Enright,
+'ondoubted--for it would be their dooty--the vig'lance committee
+local to them parts would string him up. But that ain't possible;
+this yere miscreant is a gov'ment official an' wears the gov'ment
+brand, an' even the Stranglers, of whatever commoonity, ain't strong
+enough, an' wouldn't be jestified in stackin' in ag'in the gov'ment.
+Captain Moon's only show is a feud. He oughter caper over an', as
+private as possible, arrogate to himse'f the skelp of this yere
+agent who abandons his relatif to them hostiles.'
+
+"Wolfville listens to Captain Moon's hist'ry of his wrongs; but
+aside from them eloocidations of Enright, no gent says much. Thar's
+some games where troo p'liteness consists in sayin' nothin' an'
+knowin' less. But the most careless hand in camp can see that Moon's
+aimin' at reprisals.
+
+"This Curly Ben is trackin' about Wolfville at the time. Curly ain't
+what you-all would call a elevated character. He's a rustler of
+cattle, an' a smuggler of Mexican goods, an' Curly an' the Yoonited
+States marshals has had more turn-ups than one. But Curly is dead
+game; an' so far, he manages to either out-luck or out-shoot them
+magistrates; an', as I says, when Moon comes wanderin' in that time
+mournin' for his nephy, Curly has been projectin' about camp for
+like it's a week.
+
+"Moon sort o' roominates on the play, up an' down, for a day or so,
+makin' out a plan. He don't want to go back himse'f; the agent knows
+him, an' them Injuns knows him, an' it's even money, if he comes
+pokin' into their bailiwick, they'll tumble to his errant. In sech
+events, they're shore doo to corral him an' give them ants another
+holiday. It's the ant part that gives pore Captain Moon a chill.
+
+"'I'll take a chance on a bowie knife,' says Moon to Dan Boggs,--
+Dan, bein' a sympathetic gent an' takin' nacherally to folks in
+trouble, has Moon's confidence from the jump; 'I'll take a chance on
+a bowie knife; an' as for a gun, I simply courts the resk. But then
+ants dazzles me--I lay down to ants, an' I looks on it as no
+disgrace to a gent to say so.' "'Ants shorely do sound poignant,'
+admits Dan, 'speshully them big black an' red ants that has stingers
+like hornets an' pinchers like bugs. Sech insecks, armed to the
+teeth as they be, an' laid out to fight both ways from the middle,
+is likewise too many for me. I would refoose battle with 'em
+myse'f.'
+
+"It ain't long before Captain Moon an' Curly Ben is seen confidin'
+an' conferrin' with one another, an' drinkin' by themse'fs, an' no
+one has to be told that Moon's makin' negotiations with Curly to
+ride over an' down the agent. The idee is pecooliarly grateful to
+Wolfville. It stands to win no matter how the kyards lay in the box.
+If Curly fetches the agent flutterin' from his limb, thar's one
+miscreant less in Arizona, if the agent gets the drop an' puts out
+Curly Ben, it comes forth jest the same. It's the camp's theery
+that, in all that entitles 'em to death, the case stands hoss an'
+hoss between the agent an' Curly Ben.
+
+"'An' if they both gets downed, it's a whip-saw, we win both ways;'
+says Cherokee Hall, an' the rest of us files away our nose-paint in
+silent assent tharwith. "It comes out later that Moon agrees to give
+Curly Ben fifteen hundred dollars an' a pony, if he'll go over an'
+kill off the agent. Curly Ben says the prop'sition is the
+pleasantest thing he hears since he leaves the Panhandle ten years
+before, an' so he accepts five hundred dollars an' the pony--the
+same bein' the nacher of payments in advance--an' goes clatterin'
+off up the canyon one evenin' on his mission of jestice. An' then we
+hears no more of Curly Ben for about a month. No one marvels none at
+this, however, as downin' any given gent is a prop'sition which in
+workin' out is likely to involve delays.
+
+"One day, with unruffled brow an' an air all careless an' free,
+Curly Ben rides into Wolfville an' begins orderin' whiskey at the
+Red Light before he's hardly cl'ar of the saddle. Thar ain't nobody
+in camp, from Doc Peets to Missis Rucker, but what's eager to know
+the finish of Curly's expedition, but of course everybody hobbles
+his feelin's in them behalfs. It's Captain Moon's fooneral, an' he
+oughter have a first, oninterrupted say. Moon comes up to Curly Ben
+where Curly is cuttin' the alkali dust outen his throat at the Red
+Light bar.
+
+"'Did you get him?' Moon asks after a few p'lite preeliminaries.
+'Did you bring back his ha'r an' y'ears like we agrees?'
+
+"'Have you-all got the other thousand ready,' says Curly Ben. 'in
+the event I do?'
+
+"'Right yere in my war-bags,' says Moon, 'awaitin' to make good for
+your tine an' talent an' trouble in revengin' my pore nephy's
+deemise by way of them insecks.' An' Moon slaps his pocket as
+locatin' the dinero.
+
+"'Well, I don't get him,' says Curly Ben ca'mly, settin' his glass
+on the bar.
+
+"Thar's a pause of mebby two minutes, doorin' which Moon looks
+cloudy, as though he don't like the way the kyards is comin'; Curly
+Ben, on his part, is smilin' like what Huggins calls 'one of his
+songstresses' over in the Bird Cage Op'ry House. After a bit, Moon
+resoomes them investigations.
+
+"'Don't I give you four stacks of reds an' a pony,' he says, 'to
+reepair to that murderer an' floor-manage his obsequies? An' don't I
+promise you eight stacks more when you reports with that outcast's
+y'ears an' ha'r, as showin' good faith?'
+
+"'C'rrect; every word,' says Curly Ben, lightin' a seegyar an then
+leanin' his elbows on the bar, a heap onmoved.
+
+"'Which I would admire to know, then,' says Moon, an' his eyes is
+gettin' little an' hard, 'why you-all don't made good them
+compacts.'
+
+"'Well, I'll onfold the reasons an' make it as plain an' cl'ar an'
+convincin' as a spade flush,' says Curly Ben. 'When I gets to this
+yere victim of ours, I finds him to be a mighty profoose an' lavish
+form of sport. The moment I'm finished explainin' to him my mission,
+an' jest as I onlimbers my six-shooter to get him where he lives, he
+offers me five thousand dollars to come back yere an' kill you.
+Nacherally, after that, me an' this yere subject of our plot takes a
+few drinks, talks it over, an' yere I be.'
+
+"'But what be you aimin' to do?' asks Moon.
+
+"'What be you aimin' to do?' responds Curly Ben. As I states, he's
+shore the most ornery coyote!
+
+"'I don't onderstand,' says Moon.
+
+"'Why it's as obv'ous,' retorts Curly Ben, 'as the Fence Rail brand,
+an' that takes up the whole side of a cow. The question now is, do
+you raise this yere gent? He raises you as I explains; now do you
+quit, or tilt him, say, a thousand better?'
+
+"'An' suppose I don't?' says Moon, sort o' figgerin' for a moment or
+so. 'What do you reckon now would be your next move?'
+
+"'Thar would be but one thing to do,' says Curly Ben mighty placid;
+'I'd shorely take him. I would proceed with your destruction at
+once, an' return to this agent gent an' accept that five thousand
+dollar honorarium he offers.'
+
+"Curly Ben is 'bad' plumb through, an' the sights, as they says in
+the picturesque language of the Southwest, has been filed from his
+guns for many years. Which this last is runnin' in Moon's head while
+he talks with his disgustin' emmissary. Moon ain't out to take
+chances on gettin' the worst of it. An' tharfore, Moon at once waxes
+cunnin' a whole lot.
+
+"'I'm a pore man,' he says, `but if it takes them teams of mine, to
+the last tire an' the last hoof, I've got to have this agent's ha'r
+an' y'ears. You camp around the Red Light awhile, Curly, till I go
+over to the New York Store an' see about more money. I'll be back
+while you're layin' out another drink.'
+
+"Now it's not to the credit of Curly, as a crim'nal who puts thought
+into his labors, that he lets Captain Moon turn his flank the easy
+way he does. It displays Curly as lackin' a heap in mil'tary genius.
+I don't presoome to explain it; an' it's all so dead onnacheral at
+this juncture that the only s'lootion I'm cap'ble of givin' it is
+that it's preedestinated that a-way. Curly not only lets Moon walk
+off, which after he hangs up that bluff about takin' them terms of
+the agent's is mighty irreg'lar, but he's that obtoose he sits down
+to play kyards, while he's waitin', with his back to the door. Why!
+it's like sooicide!
+
+"Moon goes out to his wagons an' gets, an' buckles on, his guns.
+Quick, crafty, brisk as a cat an' with no more noise, Moon comes
+walkin' into the Red Light door. He sees Curly where he sits at
+seven-up, with his back turned towards him.
+
+"'One for jack!' says Curly, turnin' that fav'rite kyard. Moon sort
+o' drifts to his r'ar.
+
+"'Bang!' says Moon's pistol, an' Curly falls for'ards onto the
+table, an' then onto the floor, the bullet plumb through his head,
+as I informs you.
+
+"Curly Ben never has the shadow of a tip, he's out of the Red Light
+an' into the regions beyond, like snappin' your thumb an' finger.
+It's as sharp as the buck of a pony, he's Moon's meat in a minute.
+
+"No, thar's nothin' for Wolfville to do. Moon's jestified. Which his
+play is the one trail out, for up to that p'int where Moon onhooks
+his guns, Curly ain't done nothin' to put him in reach of the
+Stranglers. Committees of vig'lance, that a-way, like shore-enough
+co'ts, can't prevent crime, they only punish it, an' up to where
+Moon gets decisive action, thar's no openin' by which the Stranglers
+could cut in on the deal. Yes, Enright convenes his committee an'
+goes through the motions of tryin' Moon. They does this to preserve
+appearances, but of course they throws Moon loose. An' as thar's
+reasons, as any gent can see, why no one cares to have the story as
+it is, be made a subject of invidious gossip in Red Dog, an' other
+outfits envious of Wolfville, at Enright's suggestion, the
+Stranglers bases the acquittal of Moon on the fact that Curly Ben
+deloodes Moon's sister, back in the States, an' then deserts her.
+Moon cuts the trail of the base sedoocer in Wolfville, an' gathers
+him in accordin', an' as a brother preyed on by his sister's wrongs
+is shorely expected to do."
+
+"But Curly Ben never did mislead Moon's sister, did he?" I asked,
+for the confident fashion where-with my old friend reeled off the
+finding of Wolfville's vigilance committee, and the reasons, almost
+imposed on me.
+
+"Which you can bet the limit," he observed fiercely, as he prepared
+to go into the hotel, "which you can go the limit open, son, Curly
+ain't none too good."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+Colonel Sterett's Reminiscences
+
+
+"An' who is Colonel William Greene Sterett, you asks?" repeated the
+Old Cattleman, with some indignant elevation of voice. "He's the
+founder of the Coyote, Wolfville's first newspaper; is as cultivated
+a gent that a-way as acquires his nose-paint at the Red Light's bar;
+an' comes of as good a Kaintucky fam'ly as ever distils its own
+whiskey or loses its money on a hoss. Son, I tells you this prior."
+This last reproachfully.
+
+"No, Colonel Sterett ain't old none--not what you-all would call
+aged. When he comes weavin' into Wolfville that time, I reckons now
+Colonel Sterett is mighty likely about twenty-odd years younger than
+me, an' at that time I shows about fifty rings on my horns. As for
+eddication, he's shore a even break with Doc Peets, an' as I remarks
+frequent, I never calls the hand of that gent in Arizona who for a
+lib'ral enlightenment is bullsnakes to rattlesnakes with Peets.
+
+"Speakin' about who Colonel Sterett is, he onfolds his pedigree in
+full one evenin' when we're all sort o' self-herded in the New York
+Store. Which his story is a proud one, an' I'm a jedge because comin
+as I do from Tennessee myse'f, nacherally I saveys all about
+Kaintucky. Thar's three grades of folks in Kaintucky, the same bein'
+contingent entire on whereabouts them folks is camped. Thar's the
+Bloo Grass deestrict, the Pennyr'yal deestrict, an' the Purchase.
+The Bloo Grass folks is the 'ristocrats, while them low-flung trash
+from the Purchase is a heap plebeian. The Pennyr'yal outfit is kind
+o' hesitatin' 'round between a balk an' a break-down in between the
+other two, an' is part 'ristocratic that a-way an' part mud. As for
+Colonel Sterett, he's pure strain Bloo Grass, an' he shows it. I'll
+say this for the Colonel, an' it shorely knits me to him from the
+first, he could take a bigger drink of whiskey without sugar or
+water than ever I sees a gent take in my life.
+
+"That time I alloods to, when Colonel Sterett vouchsafes them
+recollections, we-all is in the r'ar wareroom of the New York Store
+where the whiskey bar'ls be, samplin' some Valley Tan that's jest
+been freighted in. As she's new goods, that Valley Tan, an' as our
+troo views touchin' its merits is important to the camp, we're
+testin' the beverage plenty free an' copious. No expert gent can
+give opinions worth a white chip concernin' nosepaint short o' six
+drinks, an' we wasn't out to make no errors in our findin's about
+that Valley Tan. So, as I relates, we're all mebby some five drinks
+to the good, an' at last the talk, which has strayed over into the
+high grass an' is gettin' a whole lot too learned an' profound for
+most of the herd to cut in on, settles down between Doc Peets an
+Colonel Sterett as bein' the only two sports able to protect their
+play tharin.
+
+"An' you can go as far as you like on it,' says the Colonel to
+Peets, 'I'm plumb wise an' full concernin' the transmigration of
+souls. I gives it my hearty beliefs. I can count a gent up the
+moment I looks at him; also I knows exactly what he is before he's a
+hooman bein'.'
+
+"'That "transmigration" that a-way,' whispers Dan Boggs to Cherokee
+Hall, 'ain't no fool of a word. I'll prance over an' pull it on Red
+Dog to-morry. Which it's shore doo to strike'em dumb.'
+
+"'Now yere's Hoppin' Harry,' goes on the Colonel p'intin' to a thin,
+black little felon with long ha'r like a pony, who's strayed over
+from Tucson; 'I gives it out cold, meanin' tharby no offence to our
+Tucson friend--I gives it out cold that Hoppin' Harry used to be a
+t'rant'ler. First,' continyoos the Colonel, stackin' Harry up mighty
+scientific with his optic jest showin' over his glass, 'first I
+allows he's a toad. Not a horned toad, which is a valyooed beast an'
+has a mission; but one of these yere ornery forms of toads which
+infests the East. This last reptile is vulgar-sluggish, a anamile of
+few if any virchoos; while the horned toad, so called, come right
+down to cases, ain't no toad nohow. It's a false brand, an' he don't
+belong with the toad herd at all. The horned toad is a lizard--a
+broad kind o' lizard; an' as for bein' sluggish, you let him have
+something on his mind speshul, an' he'll shore go careerin' about
+plumb swift. Moreover, he don't hop, your horned toad don't, like
+them Eastern toads; he stands up on his toes an' paces--he's what
+we-all calls on the Ohio River back in my childhood's sunny hours,
+"a side-wheeler." Also, he's got a tail. An' as for sperit, let me
+tell you this:--I has a horned toad where I'm camped over by the
+Tres Hermanas, where I'm deer-huntin'. I wins that toad's love from
+the jump with hunks of bread an' salt hoss an' kindred del'cacies.
+He dotes on me. When time hangs heavy, I entertains myse'f with a
+dooel between Augustus--Augustus bein' the horned toad's name--, an'
+a empty sardine box for which he entertains resentments.
+
+"'"Lay for him, Augustus!" I'd say, at the same instant battin' him
+in the nose with the box.
+
+"'Of course, Augustus ain't got savey enough to realize I does it.
+He allows it's the box that a-way makin' malev'lent bluffs at him.
+An' say, pards, it would have made you proud of your country an' its
+starry flag to see Augustus arch himse'f for war on them o'casions.
+
+"'Not that Augustus is malignant or evil disposed, nacheral. No,
+sir; I've yet to meet up with the toad who has his simple, even,
+gen'rous temper or lovin' heart; as trustful too, Augustus is, as
+the babe jest born. But like all noble nachers, Augustus is
+sensitive, an' he regyards them bats in the nose as insults. As I
+says, you-all should have seen him! He'd poise himse'f on his toes,
+erect the horn on his nose, same as one of these yere rhinoceroses
+of holy writ, an' then the way Augustus hooks an' harasses that
+offensive sardine box about the camp is a lesson to folks.'
+
+"'Where's this yere Augustus now?' asks Dan Boggs, who's got all
+wropped up in the Colonel's narratifs.
+
+"'Petered,' says the Colonel, an' thar's feelin's in his tones;
+'pore Augustus cashes in. He's followin' me about one mornin'
+watchin' me hook up--we was gettin' ready to move camp--an' all
+inadvertent I backs the wagon onto Augustus. The hind wheel goes
+squar' over him an' flattens Augustus out complete. He dies with his
+eyes fixed on me, an' his looks says as plain as language, "Cheer
+up, Colonel! This yere contreetemps don't change my affections, for
+I knows it's a misdeal." You-all can gamble I don't do nothin' more
+that day but mourn.'
+
+"'Which I should shorely say so!' says Dan Boggs, an' his voice is
+shakin'; 'a-losin' of a gifted horned toad like Augustus! I'd a-
+howled like a wolf.'
+
+"'But as I'm sayin',' resoomes the Colonel, after comfortin' himse'f
+with about four fingers; 'speakin' of the transmigration of souls, I
+goes off wrong about Hoppin' Harry that time. I takes it, he used to
+be one of these yere Eastern toads on account of his gait. But I'm
+erroneous. Harry, who is little an' spry an' full of p'isen that a-
+way, used to be a t'rant'ler. Any gent who'll take the trouble to
+recall one of these hairy, hoppin' t'rant'ler spiders who jumps
+sideways at you, full of rage an' venom, is bound to be reminded
+partic'lar of Hoppin' Harry.'
+
+"'What did you-all use to be yourse'f, Colonel?' asks Enright, who
+notices that Hoppin' Harry is beginnin' to bristle some, like he
+ain't pleased none with these yere revelations. 'What for a anamile
+was you before you're a hooman?'
+
+"'I was a good-nachered hoss,' says the Colonel mighty confident an'
+prompt; 'I'm a good-nachered hoss in a country neighborhood, an'
+everybody rides me that wants to. However, I allows we better shift
+the subject some. If we-all talks about these yere insects an'
+reptiles a little longer, Huggins over thar--whose one weakness is
+he's too frank with an' puts too much confidence in his licker--will
+have another one of them attacks of second sight, which Peets cures
+him of that time, an' commence seein' a multitood of heinous
+visions.'
+
+"'Of course,' says Enright, plumb p'lite, 'of course, Colonel, I can
+tell a whole lot about your fam'ly by jest lookin' at you;
+partic'lar where as at present you're about ten drinks ahead; still
+thar's nothin' gives me more pleasure than hearin' about the sire
+from the colt; an' if you won't receive it resentful, I'd ask you as
+to your folks back in Kaintuck.'
+
+"'As you-all knows,' observes Colonel Sterett, 'I was foaled in
+Kaintucky; an' I must add, I never recalls that jestly cel'brated
+commonwealth with-out a sigh. Its glories, sech as they was before
+the war, is fast departin' away. In my yooth, thar is nothin' but a
+nobility in Kaintucky; leastwise in the Bloo Grass country, whereof
+I'm a emanation. We bred hosses an' cattle, an' made whiskey an'
+played kyards, an' the black folks does the work. We descends into
+nothin' so low as labor in them halcyon days. Our social existence
+is made up of weddin's, infares an' visitin' 'round; an' life in the
+Bloo Grass is a pleasant round of chicken fixin's an' flour doin's
+from one Christmas to another.'
+
+"'Sech deescriptions,' remarks Enright with emotion an' drawin' the
+back of his hand across his eyes, 'brings back my yearlin' days in
+good old Tennessee. We-all is a heap like you Kaintucks, down our
+way. We was a roode, exyooberant outfit; but manly an' sincere. It's
+trooly a region where men is men, as that sport common to our neck
+of timber known as "the first eye out for a quart of whiskey"
+testifies to ample. Thar's my old dad! I can see him yet,' an' yere
+Enright closes his eyes some ecstatic. 'He was a shore man. He stood
+a hundred-foot without a knot or limb; could wrastle or run or jump,
+an' was good to cut a 4-bit piece at one hundred yards, offhand,
+with his old 8-squar' rifle. He never shoots squirrels, my father
+don't; he barks 'em. An' for to see the skin cracked, or so much as
+a drop of blood on one of 'em, when he picks it up, would have
+mortified the old gent to death.'
+
+"'Kaintucky to a hair,' assented the Colonel, who listens to Enright
+plenty rapt that a-way. 'An' things is so Arcadian! If a gent has a
+hour off an 'feels friendly an' like minglin' with his kind, all he
+does is sa'nter over an' ring the town bell. Nacherally, the
+commoonity lets go its grip an' comes troopin' up all spraddled out.
+It don't know if it's a fire, it don't know if it's a fight, it
+don't know if it's a birth, it don't know if it's a hoss race, it
+don't know if it's a drink; an' it don't care. The commoonity keeps
+itse'f framed up perpetyooal to enjoy any one of the five, an'
+tharfore at the said summons comes troopin', as I say. "'My
+grandfather is the first Sterett who invades Kaintucky, an' my
+notion is that he conies curvin' in with Harrod, Kenton, Boone an'
+Simon Girty. No one knows wherever does he come from; an' no one's
+got the sand to ask, he's that dead haughty an' reserved. For
+myse'f, I'm not freighted to the gyards with details touchin' on my
+grandfather; he passes in his chips when mebby I'm ten years old,
+an' the only things about him I'm shore of as a child, is that he's
+the greatest man on earth an' owns all the land south of the Ohio
+river.
+
+"'This yere grandfather I'm talkin' of,' continyoos the Colonel
+after ag'in refreshin' himse'f with some twenty drops, 'lives in a
+big house on a bluff over-lookin' the Ohio, an' calls his place "The
+Hill." Up across one of the big stone chimleys is carved "John
+Sterett," that a-way; which I mentions the same as goin' to show he
+ain't afeard none of bein' followed, an' that wherever he does come
+p'intin' out from, thar's no reward offered for his return.'
+
+"'I ain't so shore neither,' interjects Texas Thompson. 'He might
+have shifted the cut an' changed his name. Sech feats is frequent
+down 'round Laredo where I hails from, an' no questions asked.'
+
+"'Up on the roof of his ranch,' goes on the Colonel, for he's so
+immersed in them mem'ries he don't hear Texas where he rings in his
+theeries, 'up on the roof my grandfather has a big bell, an' the
+rope is brought down an' fetched through a auger hole in the side of
+the house, so he can lay in bed if he feels like it, an' ring this
+yere tocsin of his while so minded. An' you can bet he shorely rings
+her! Many a time an' oft as a child about my mother's knees, the
+sound of that ringin' comes floatin' to us where my father has his
+house four miles further down the river. On sech o'casions I'd up
+an' ask:
+
+"'" Whatever is this yere ringin'?"
+
+"'"Hesh, my child!" my mother would say, smotherin' my mouth with
+her hand, her voice sinkin' to a whisper, for as the head of the
+House of Sterett, every one of the tribe is plumb scared of my
+grandfather an' mentions him with awe. "Hesh, my child," says my
+mother like I relates, "that's your grandfather ringin' his bell."
+
+"'An' from calf-time to beef-time, from the first kyard out of the
+box down to the turn, no one ever knows why my grandfather does ring
+it, for he's too onbendin' to tell of his own accord, an' as I
+states prior, no one on earth has got nerve an' force of character
+enough to ask him.
+
+"'My own father, whose name is the same as mine, bein' Willyum
+Greene Sterett, is the oldest of my grandfather's chil'en. He's a
+stern, quiet gent, an' all us young-ones is wont to step high an'
+softly whenever he's pesterin' 'round. He respects nobody except my
+grandfather, fears nothin' but gettin' out of licker.
+
+"'Like my grandfather up at "The Hill," my father devotes all his
+talents to raisin' runnin' hosses, an' the old faun would have been
+a heap lonesome if thar's fewer than three hundred head a nickerin'
+about the barns an' pastures. Shore! we has slaves too; we has
+niggers to a stand-still.
+
+"'As I look r'arward to them days of my infancy, I brings to mind a
+staggerin' blow that neighborhood receives. A stern-wheeler sinks
+about two hundred yards off our landin' with one thousand bar'ls of
+whiskey on board. When the news of that whiskey comes flyin' inland,
+it ain't a case of individyooals nor neighborhoods, but whole
+counties comes stampedin' to the rescoo. It's no use; the boat bogs
+right down in the sand; in less than an hour her smoke stack is
+onder water. All we ever gets from the wrack is the bell, the same
+now adornin' a Presbyter'an church an' summonin' folks to them
+services. I tells you, gents, the thoughts of that Willow Run, an'
+we not able to save so much as a quart of it, puts a crimp in that
+commoonity they ain't yet outlived. It 'most drives 'em crazy; they
+walks them banks for months a-wringin' their hands an' wishin' the
+impossible.'
+
+"'Is any one drowned?' asks Faro Nell, who comes in, a moment
+before, an' as usual plants herse'f clost to Cherokee Hall. 'Is thar
+any women or children aboard?'
+
+"'Nell,' says the Colonel, 'I apol'gizes for my ignorance, but I'm
+bound to confess I don't know. Thar's no one knows. The awful fact
+of them one thousand bar'ls of Willow Run perishin' before our very
+eyes, swallows up all else, an' minor details gets lost in the
+shuffle an' stays lost for all time. It's a turrible jolt to the
+general sensibilities, an' any gent who'll go back thar yet an' look
+hard in the faces of them people, can see traces of that c'lamity.
+
+"'As a child,' resoomes the Colonel, 'I'm romantic a whole lot. I'm
+carried away by music. My fav'rite airs is "Smith's March," an'
+"Cease Awhile Clarion; Clarion Wild an' Shrill." I either wants
+something with a sob in it 'like "Cease Awhile," or I desires War
+with all her horrors, same as a gent gets dished up to him in
+"Smith's March."
+
+"'Also, I reads Scott's "Ivanhoe," ain longs to be a croosader, an'
+slay Paynims. I used to lie on the bank by the old Ohio, an' shet my
+eyes ag'in the brightness of the sky, an' figger on them setbacks
+we'd mete out to a Payaim if only we might tree one once in old
+Kaintucky. Which that Saracen would have shorely become the basis of
+some ceremonies!
+
+"'Most like I was about thirteen years old when the Confederacy
+declar's herse'f a nation, elects Jeff Davis President, an' fronts
+up for trouble. For myse'f I concedes now, though I sort o' smothers
+my feelin's on that p'int at the time, seein' we-all could look
+right over into the state of Ohio, said state bein' heatedly
+inimical to rebellion an' pawin' for trouble an' rappin' its horns
+ag'in the trees at the mere idee; for myse'f, I say, I now concedes
+that I was heart an' soul with the South in them onhappy ruptures. I
+breathed an' lived with but one ambition, which is to tear this
+devoted country in two in the middle an' leave the fragments that a-
+way, in opposite fields. My father, stern, ca'm, c'llected, don't
+share the voylence of my sentiments. He took the middle ag'in the
+ends for his. The attitoode of our state is that of nootrality, an'
+my father declar'd for nootrality likewise. My grandfather is dead
+at the time, so his examples lost to us; but my father, sort o'
+projectin' 'round for p'sition, decides it would be onfair in him to
+throw the weight of his valor to either side, so he stands a pat
+hand on that embroglio, declines kyards, an' as I states is nootral.
+Which I know he's nootral by one thing:
+
+"'"Willyum," he'd say that a-way when he'd notice me organizin' to
+go down to the village; "Willyum," he'd say. "if anybody asks you
+what you be, an' speshul if any of them Yankees asks you, you tell
+'em that you're Union, but you remember you're secesh."
+
+"'The Sterett fam'ly, ondoubted, is the smartest fam'ly in the
+South. My brother Jeff, who is five years older than me, gives
+proofs of this, partic'lar. It's Jeff who invents that enterprise in
+fishin', which for idleness, profit an' pastime, ain't never been
+equalled since the flood, called "Juggin' for Cats." It's Jeff, too,
+once when he ups an' jines the church, an' is tharafter preyed on
+with the fact that the church owes two hundred dollars, and that it
+looks like nobody cares a two-bit piece about it except jest him,
+who hires a merry-go-round--one of these yere contraptions with
+wooden hosses, an' a hewgag playin' toones in the center--from
+Cincinnati, sets her up on the Green in front of the church, makes
+the ante ten cents, an' pays off the church debt in two months with
+the revenoos tharof.
+
+"'As I sits yere, a relatin' of them exploits,' an' Colonel Sterett
+tips the canteen for another hooker, 'as I sits yere, gents, all
+free an' sociable with what's, bar none, the finest body of gents
+that ever yanks a cork or drains a bottle, I've seen the nobility of
+Kaintucky--the Bloo Grass Vere-de-Veres--ride up on a blood hoss,
+hitch the critter to the fence, an' throw away a fortune buckin'
+Jeff's merry-go-round with them wooden steeds. It's as I says: that
+sanctooary is plumb out of debt an' on velvet--has a bank roll big
+enough to stopper a 2-gallon jug with--in eight weeks from the time
+Jeff onfurls his lay-out an' opens up his game.'
+
+"Thar's one thing," suddenly observed my aged companion, as he eyed
+me narrowly, pausing in the interesting Colonel Sterett's relation
+concerning his family, and becoming doubly impressive with an
+uplifted fore-finger, "thar's one thing I desires you to fully
+grasp. As I reels off this yere chronicle, you-all is not to
+consider me as repeatin' the Colonel's words exact. I ain't gifted
+like the Colonel, an' my English ain't a marker to his. The Colonel
+carries the language quiled up an' hangin' at the saddle horn of his
+intelligence, like a cow puncher does his lariat. An' when he's got
+ready to rope an' throw a fact or two, you should oughter see him
+take her down an' go to work. Horn or neck or any foot you says;
+it's all one to the Colonel. Big or little loop, in the bresh or in
+the open, it's a cinch the Colonel fastens every time he throws his
+verbal rope. The fact he's after that a-way, is shore the Colonel's.
+Doc Peets informs me private that Colonel Sterett is the greatest
+artist, oral, of which his'try records the brand, an' you can go
+broke on Peets's knowin'. An' thar's other test'mony.
+
+"'I don't lay down my hand,' says Texas Thompson, one time when him
+an' me is alone, 'to any gent between the Rio Grande an' the Oregon,
+on sizin' up a conversation. An' I'll impart to you, holdin' nothin'
+back, that the Colonel is shorely the limit. Merely to listen, is an
+embarrassment of good things, like openin' a five-hand jack-pot on a
+ace-full. He can even out-talk my former wife, the Colonel can, an'
+that esteemable lady packs the record as a conversationist in Laredo
+for five years before I leaves. She's admittedly the shorest shot
+with her mouth on that range. Talkin' at a mark, or in action, all
+you has to do is give the lady the distance an' let her fix her
+sights once, an' she'll stand thar, without a rest, an' slam
+observation after observation into the bull's eye till you'll be
+abashed. An' yet, compared to the Colonel yere, that lady stutters!'
+
+"But now to resoome," said my friend when he had sufficiently come
+to the rescue of Colonel Sterett and given him his proper place in
+my estimation; "we'll take up the thread of the Colonel's remarks
+where I leaves off.
+
+"'My grandfather,' says the Colonel, 'is a gent of iron-bound
+habits. He has his rooles an' he never transgresses 'em. The first
+five days of the week, he limits himse'f to fifteen drinks per diem;
+Saturday he rides eight miles down to the village, casts aside
+restraints, an' goes the distance; Sunday he devotes to meditations.
+
+"'Thar's times when I inclines to the notion that my grandfather
+possesses partic'lar aptitoodes for strong drink. This I'll say
+without no thoughts of boastin', he's the one lone gent whereof I
+has a knowledge, who can give a three-ring debauch onder one canvas
+in one evenin'. As I states, my grandfather, reg'lar every Saturday
+mornin', rides down to the Center, four miles below our house, an'
+begins to crook his elbow, keepin' no accounts an' permittin' no
+compunctions. This, if the old gent is feelin' fit an' likely, keeps
+up about six hours' at which epock, my grandfather is beginnin' to
+feel like his laigs is a burden an' walkin' a lost art. That's where
+the pop'lace gets action. The onlookers, when they notes how my
+ancestor's laigs that a-way is attemptin' to assoome the soopreme
+direction of affairs, sort o' c'llects him an' puts him in the
+saddle. Settin' thar on his hoss, my grandfather is all right. His
+center of grav'ty is shifted an' located more to his advantage. I
+esteems it one of them evidences of a sooperior design in the
+yooniverse, an' a plain proof that things don't come by chance, that
+long after a gent can't walk none, he's plumb able to ride.
+
+"'Once my grandfather is safe in his saddle, as I relates, he's due-
+-him an' his hoss, this last bein' an onusual sagacious beast whic
+he calls his "Saturday hoss"--to linger about the streets, an'
+collab'rate with the public for mebby five more drinks; followin'
+which last libations, he goes rackin' off for "The Hill."
+
+"'Up at our house on Saturdays, my father allers throws a skirmish
+line of niggers across the road, with orders to capture my
+grandfather as he comes romancin' along. An' them faithful servitors
+never fails. They swarms down on my grandfather, searches him out of
+the saddle an' packs him exultin'ly an' lovin'ly into camp.
+
+"'Once my grandfather is planted in a cha'r, with a couple of
+minions on each side to steady the deal, the others begins to line
+out to fetch reestoratifs. I'm too little to take a trick myse'f,
+an' I can remember how on them impressif occasions, I would stand
+an' look at him. I'd think to myse'f--I was mebby eight at the
+time,--"He's ondoubted the greatest man on earth, but my! how
+blurred he is!"
+
+"'Which as I states yeretofore, the Sterett system is the
+patriarchal system, an' one an' all we yields deference to my
+grandfather as the onchallenged chief of the tribe. To 'llustrate
+this: One day my father, who's been tryin' out a two-year-old on our
+little old quarter-mile track, starts for The Hill, takin' me an' a
+nigger jockey, an' a-leadin' of the said two-year-old racer along.
+Once we arrives at my grandfather's, my father leaves us all
+standin' in the yard and reepairs into the house. The next minute
+him an' my grandfather comes out. They don't say nothin', but my
+grandfather goes all over the two-year-old with eyes an' hand for
+mighty likely ten minutes. At last he straightens up an' turns on my
+father with a face loaded to the muzzle with rage.
+
+"'"Willyum Greene Sterett," he says, conferrin' on my parent his
+full name, the same bein' a heap ominous; "Willyum Greene Sterett,
+you've brought that thing to The Hill to beat my Golddust."
+
+"'"Yes," says my father, mighty steady, "an' I'll go right out on
+your track now, father, an' let that black boy ride him an' I'll
+gamble you all a thousand dollars that that two-year-old beats
+Golddust."
+
+"'" Willyum Greene Sterett," says my grandfather, lookin' at my
+father an' beginnin' to bile, "I've put up with a heap from you. You
+was owdacious as a child, worthless as a yooth, an' a spend-thrift
+as a young man grown; an' a score of times I've paid your debts as
+was my dooty as the head of the House of Sterett. But you reserves
+it for your forty-ninth year, an' when I'm in my seventy-ninth year,
+to perform your crownin' outrage. You've brought that thing to The
+Hill to beat my Golddust. Now let me tell you somethin', an' it'll
+be water on your wheel a whole lot, to give heed to that I says. You
+get onto your hoss, an' you get your child Willyum onto his hoss,
+an' you get that nigger boy onto his hoss, an' you get off this
+Hill. An' as you go, let me give you this warnin'. If you-all ever
+makes a moccasin track in the mud of my premises ag'in, I'll fill
+you full of buckshot."
+
+"'An' as I says, to show the veneration in which my grandfather is
+held, thar's not another yeep out o' any of us. With my father in
+the lead, we files out for home; an' tharafter the eepisode is never
+mentioned.
+
+"'An' now,' says Colonel Sterctt, 'as we-all is about equipped to
+report joodiciously as to the merits of the speshul cask of Valley
+Tan we've been samplin', I'll bring my narratif to the closin'
+chapters in the life of this grand old man. Thar's this to be
+observed: The Sterett fam'ly is eminent for two things: it gets
+everything it needs; an' it never gets it till it needs it. Does it
+need a gun, or a hoss, or a drink, the Sterett fam'ly proceeds with
+the round-up. It befalls that when my grandfather passes his
+eightieth year, he decides that he needs religion.
+
+"'" It's about time," he says, "for me to begin layin' up a treasure
+above. I'm goin' on eighty-one an' my luck can't last forever."
+
+"'So my grandfather he sets up in bed an' he perooses them
+scriptures for four months. I tell you, gents, he shorely searches
+that holy book a whole lot. An' then he puts it up he'll be
+baptized. Also, that he'll enter down into the water an' rise up out
+of the water like it's blazoned in them texts.
+
+"'Seein' she's Janyooary at the time, with two foot of snow on the
+ground, it looks like my grandfather will have to postpone them
+rites. But he couldn't be bluffed. My grandfather reaches out of bed
+an' he rings that bell I tells you-all of, an' proceeds to convene
+his niggers. He commands 'em to cut down a big whitewood tree that
+lives down in the bottoms, hollow out the butt log for a trough, an'
+haul her up alongside the r'ar veranda.
+
+"'For a week thar's a incessant "chip! chop!" of the axes; an' then
+with six yoke of steers, the trough is brought into camp. It's long
+enough an' wide enough an' deep enough to swim a colt.
+
+"'The day for the baptizin' is set, an' the Sterett fam'ly comes
+trackin' in. Thar's two hundred of 'em, corral count. The whole
+outfit stands 'round while the water is heatin' for to clip the old
+gent. My father, who is the dep'ty chief an' next in command, is
+tyrannizin' about an' assoomin' to deal the game. "Thar's a big fire
+at which they're heatin' the rocks wherewith to raise the
+temperatoor of the water. The fire is onder the personal charge of a
+faithful old nigger named Ben. When one of them stones is red hot,
+Ben takes two sticks for tongs an' drops it into the trough. Thar's
+a bile an' a buzz an' a geyser of steam, an' now an' then the rock
+explodes a lot an' sends the water spoutin' to the eaves. It's all
+plenty thrillin', you can bet! "My father, as I states, is pervadin'
+about, so clothed with dignity, bein' after my grandfather the next
+chicken on the roost, that you can't get near enough to him to borry
+a plug of tobacco. Once in a while he'd shasee up an' stick his hand
+in the water. It would be too hot, mebby. "'"Yere, you Ben!" he'd
+roar. "What be you aimin' at? Do you-all want to kill the old man Do
+you think you're scaldin' a hawg?" "Then this yere Ben; would get
+conscience-stricken an' pour in a bar'l or two of cold water. In a
+minute my father would test it ag'in an' say:
+
+"'"Ben, you shorely are failin' in your intellects. Yere this is as
+cold as ice; you'll give the old man a chill." "Final, however, the
+water is declar'd right, an' then out comes a brace of niggers,
+packin' my grandfather in a blanket, with the preacher preevail. in
+over all as offishul floor-manager of the festiv'ties. That's how it
+ends: my grandfather is baptized an' gets religion in his eighty-
+first year, A. D.; an' two days later he sets in his chips, shoves
+his cha'r back an' goes shoutin' home.
+
+"'"Be I certain of heaven?" he says to the preacher, when he's down
+to the turn. "Be I winner accordin' to your rooles an' tenets?"
+"'"Your place is provided," says the preacher, that a-way. "'"If
+it's as good a place as old Kaintucky, they shorely ain't goin' to
+have no fuss nor trouble with me, an' that's whatever!"'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+How the Dumb Man Rode.
+
+
+"Now, I don't reckon none," remarked the Old Cattleman with a
+confidential air, "this yere dumb man' incident ever arises to my
+mind ag'in, if it ain't for a gent whose trail I cuts while I'm
+projectin' 'round the post-office for letters.
+
+"It's this mornin', an' I'm gettin' letters, as I states, when I
+catches this old party sort o' beamin' on me frank an' free, like
+he's shore a friendly Injun. At last he sa'nters over an' remarks,
+'Whatever is your callin', pard?' or some sech bluff as that. "I
+sees he's good people fast enough; still I allows a small, brief
+jolt mebby does hire good.
+
+"'Well,' I says, intendin' to let him know I'm alive an' wakeful
+that a-way; 'well, whatever my callin' is, at least it ain't been no
+part of my bringin' up to let mere strangers stroll into the corral
+an' cinch a saddle onto me for a conversational canter, jest because
+they're disp'sitioned that a-way. "'No offence meant,' says the old
+party, an' I observes he grows red an' ashamed plumb up to his white
+ha'r. "Excuse me, amigo," I says, handin' out my paw, which he
+seizes all radiant an' soon, "I ain't intendin' nothin' blunt, nor
+to slam no door on better acquaintance, but when you--all ropes at
+me about what you refers to as my "callin"' that time, I ain't jest
+lookin' for a stranger to take sech interest in me, an' I'm startled
+into bein' onp'lite. I tharfore tenders regrets, an', startin' all
+over, states without reserve that I'm a cow man. "An' now,' I
+retorts, further, "merely to play my hand out, an' not that I looks
+to take a trick at all, let me ask what pursoots do you p'int out on
+as a pretext for livin'?"
+
+"'Me?' says the old party, stabbin' at his shirt bosom with his
+thumb; 'me? I'm a scientist.' "'Which the news is exhilaratin' an'
+interestin',' I says; 'shake ag'in! If thar's one thin-I regyards
+high, it's a scientist. Whatever partic'lar wagon-track do you-all
+follow off, may I ask?' "It's then this old gent an' I la'nches into
+a gen'ral discussion onder the head of mes'lancous business, I
+reckons, an' lie puts it up his long suit, as he calls it, is `moral
+epidemics.' He says he's wrote one book onto 'em, an' sw'ar:; he'll
+write another if nobody heads him off; the same bein' on-likely. As
+he sees how I'm interested, the old sport sets down an' lays it out
+to me how sentiments goes in herds an' droves, same as weather an'
+things like that. "'Oneday you rolls out in the mornin',' this old
+gent declar's, `an' thar you reads how everybody commits sooicide.
+Then some other day it's murder, then robbery, an' ag'in, the whole
+round-up goes to holdin' them church meetin's an' gettin' religion.
+Them's waves; moral epidemics,' he says.
+
+"Which this don't look so egreegious none as a statement, neither,
+an' so after pow-wowin' a lot, all complacent an' genial, I tells
+the old gent he's got a good game, an' I thinks myse'f his system
+has p'ints. At this, he admits he's flattered; an' then, as we're
+gettin' to the ends of our lariats, we tips our sombreros to each
+other an' lets it go at that. To-morry he's goin' to confer on me
+his book; which I means to read it, an' then I'll savey more about
+his little play.
+
+"But," continued my friend, warm with his new philosophy, "this yere
+is all preelim'nary, an' brings me back to what I remarks at the
+jump; that what that old gent urges recalls this dumb an' deef man
+incident; which it sort o' backs his play. It's a time when a passel
+of us gets overcome by waves of sentiment that a-way, an' not only
+turns a hoss-thief loose entire, after the felon's done been run
+down, but Boggs waxes that sloppy he lavishes a hoss an' saddle onto
+him; likewise sympathy, an' wishes him luck.
+
+"The whole racket's that onnacheral I never does quit wonderin'
+about it; but now this old science sharp expounds his theory of
+'moral epidemics,' it gets cl'ared up in my mind, an' I reckons, as
+he says, it's shorely one of them waves.
+
+"Tell the story? Thar's nothin' much to said yarn, only the
+onpreecedented leeniency wherewith we winds it up. In the first
+place, I don't know what this hoss-thief's name is, for he's plum
+deef an' dumb, an' ain't sayin' a word. I sees him hoverin' 'round,
+but I don't say nothin' to him. I observes him once or twice write
+things to folks he has to talk with on a piece of paper, but it's
+too slow a racket for me, too much like conversin' by freight that
+a-way, an' I declines to stand in on it. I don't like to write well
+enough to go openin' a correspondence with strangers who's deef an'
+dumb.
+
+"When he first dawns on the camp, he has money, moderate at least,
+an' he gets in on poker, an' stud, an' other devices which is open
+an' common; an' gents who's with him at the time says he has a level
+notion of hands, an' in the long run, mebby, amasses a little
+wealth.
+
+"While I ain't payin' much heed to him, I do hear towards the last
+of his stay as how he goes broke ag'inst faro-bank. But as gents
+often goes broke ag'inst faro-bank, an' as, in trooth, I tastes sech
+reverses once or twice myse'f, the information don't excite me none
+at the time, nor later on.
+
+"It's mighty likely some little space since this dumb person hits
+camp, an' thar's an outfit of us ramblin' 'round in the Red Light,
+which, so to speak, is the Wolfville Club, an' killin' time by
+talkin'. Dave Tutt an' Texas Thompson is holdin' forth at each other
+on the efficacy of pray'r, an' the balance of us is bein' edified.
+
+"It looks like Texas has been tellin' of a Mexican he sees lynched
+at Laredo one time, an' how a tender gent rings in some orisons
+before ever they swings him off. Texas objects to them pray'rs an'
+brands 'em as hypocrisies. As happens frequent--for both is powerful
+debaters that a-way--Dave Tutt locks horns with Texas, an' they both
+prances 'round oratorical at each other mighty entertainin'.
+
+"'Now you gents onderstand,' says Texas Thompson, 'I ain't sayin' a
+word about them pray'rs as mere supplications. I'm yere to state I
+regyards 'em as excellent, an' thar's gents at that time present
+who's experts in sech appeals an' who knows what prayin' is, who
+allows that for fervency, bottom an' speed, they shorely makes the
+record for what you might call off-hand pray'rs in Southern Texas.
+Thar ain't a preacher short of Waco or Dallas could have turned a
+smoother trick. But what I complains of is, it's onconsistent.'
+
+"'However is prayin' that a-way onconsistent, I'd shorely like to
+know?' says Tutt, stackin' in ag'in Texas plenty scornful.
+
+"'Why, this a-way,' says Texas. 'Yere's a gent who assembles with
+his peers to hang a Mexican. As a first flash outen the box, he puts
+up a strong pray'r talk to get this crim'nal by the heavenly gate.
+Now, whatever do you reckon a saint who knows his business is goin'
+to say to that? Yere stands this conceited Laredo party recommendin'
+for admission on high a Mexican he's he'pin' to lynch as not good
+enough for Texas. If them powers above ain't allowin' that prayin'
+party's got his nerve with him, they ain't givin' the case the study
+which is shore its doo.'
+
+"'Which I don't know!' says Tutt. 'I don't accept them views nohow.
+Prayin' is like goin' blind in poker. All you do is hope a whole
+lot. If the angels takes stock in your applications, well an' good.
+If they don't, you can gamble your spurs they're plenty able to
+protect themse'fs. All you can do is file them supplications. The
+angels lets 'em go or turns 'em down accordin'. Now, I holds that
+this Laredo sport who prays that time does right. Thar's nothin'
+like a showdown; an' his play, since he volunteers to ride herd on
+the Greaser's soul, is to do all he knows, an' win out if he can.'
+
+"'That's whatever!' says Dan Boggs, who's listenin' full of
+interest, an' who allows he'll butt in on the talk. 'I j'ines with
+Tutt in this. My notion is, when it comes a gent's turn to pray, let
+him pray, an' not go pesterin' himse'f with vain surmises as to how
+it's goin' to strike them hosts on high. You can wager you ain't
+goin' to ride 'round Omnipotence none. You can draw up to the layout
+of life, an' from the cradle to the grave, you'll not pick up no
+sleepers on Providence that a-way. Now, once, when I'm over across
+the Mogallon Plateau, I--'
+
+"But we never does hear what happens to Boggs that time over across
+the Mogallon Plateau; for when he's that far along, one of the
+niggers from the corral comes scurryin' up an' asks Texas Thompson
+does he lend his pinto pony an hour back to the party who's deef an'
+dumb.
+
+"'Which I shorely don't,' says Texas. 'You don't aim to tell me none
+he's done got away with my pinto hoss?'
+
+"The nigger says he does. He announces that mebby an hour before,
+this party comes over to the corral, makes a motion or two with his
+hands, cinches the hull onto the pinto, an' lines out for the
+northeast on the Silver City trail. He's been plumb outen sight for
+more'n half an hour.
+
+"'Which I likes that!' says Texas Thompson. 'For broad, open-air,
+noon-day hoss-stealin', I offers even money this dumb gent's
+enterprise is entitled to the red ticket.'
+
+"Which we ain't standin' thar talkin' long. If thar's one reform to
+which the entire West devotes itse'f, it's breakin' people of this
+habit of hoss-stealin'. It ain't no time when four of us is off on
+the dumb party's trail, an' half of that is consoomed in takin' a
+drink.
+
+"Whyever be gents in the West so sot ag'in hoss-thieves? Son, you
+abides in a region at once pop'lous an' fertile. But if you was to
+put in three months on a cactus desert, with water holes fifty miles
+apart, it would begin to glimmer on you as to what it means to find
+yourse'f afoot. It would come over you like a landslide that the
+party who steals your hoss would have improved your condition in
+life a heap if he'd played his hand out by shootin' a hole through
+your heart.
+
+"No, I ain't in no sech hurry to hang people for standin' in on some
+killin'. Thar's two sides to a killin'; an' if deceased is framed up
+with a gun all reg'lar at the time, it goes a long way toward
+exculpatin' of the sport who outlives him. But thar ain't only one
+side to hoss-stealin', an' the sooner the party's strung up or
+plugged, the sooner thar's a vict'ry for the right.
+
+"As I remarks, it ain't two minutes when thar's four of us gone
+swarmin' off after the dumb man who's got Texas Thompson's pinto
+pony. From the tracks, he ain't makin' no play to throw us off, for
+he maintains a straight-away run down the Silver City trail, an'
+never leaves it or doubles once.
+
+"Runnin' of the dumb man down don't turn out no arduous task. It's
+doo mainly, however, because the pinto sticks a cactus thorn in its
+hoof an' goes lame in less time tharafter than it takes to turn a
+jack.
+
+"'Hands up,' says Texas, gettin' the drop as we swings up on the
+deef an' dumb foogitive.
+
+"But thar's no need of sech preecautions, as the dumb party ain't
+packin' no weepons--not so much as a knife.
+
+"Thar's nothin' to say, no talk to make, when we takes him. Texas
+hefts him outen the saddle an' ropes his elbows behind with a
+lariat.
+
+"'What do you-all su'gest, gents?' says Texas. 'I s'pose now the
+deecorous way is to go on with this yere aggressive an' energetic
+person to them pinon trees ahead, an' hang him some?'
+
+"'Which thar's no doubts floatin' in anybody's mind on that
+subject,' says Dan Boggs, 'but I'd shore admire to know who this
+party is, an' where he's headin' to. I dislikes to stretch the neck
+of strangers that a-way; an' if thar's any gent, now, who can ask
+this yere person who he is, an' what he's got to say, I'd take it as
+a favor, personal, if he'd begin makin' of the needed motions.' "But
+thar ain't none of us can institoote them gestures; an' when the
+dumb man, on his side, puts up a few bluffs with his fingers, it's a
+heap too complicated for us as a means of makin' statements. "'I
+shore couldn't tell,' says Dave Tutt, as he sets watchin' the dumb
+man's play, 'whether he's callin' us names or askin' for whiskey.'
+"'Which if we'd thought to bring some stationery,' says Texas, after
+we-all goes through our war-bags in vain, 'we might open some
+successful negotiations with this person. As it is, however, we're
+plumb up ag'inst it, an' I reckon, Boggs, he'll have to hang without
+you an' him bein' formally introdooced.' "'Jest the same, I wishes,'
+says Dave Tutt, 'that Doc Peets or Enright was along. They'd shore
+dig somethin' outen this citizen.' "'Mebby he's got papers in his
+wamus,' says Boggs, 'which onfolds concernin' him. Go through him,
+Texas, anyhow: "All Texas can find on the dumb man is one letter;
+the postmark: when we comes to decipher the same, shows he only gets
+it that mornin'. Besides this yere single missif that a-way, thar
+ain't a scrap of nothin' else to him; nor yet no wealth.
+
+"'Tell us what's in the letter,' says Texas, turnin' the document
+over to Boggs. 'Read her out, Dan; I'd play the hand, but I has to
+ride herd on the culprit.'
+
+"'I can't read it,' says Boggs, handin' the note to Tutt; 'I can't
+read readin', let alone writin'. But I'm free to say, even without
+hearin' that document none, that I shorely hesitates to string this
+party up. Bein' tongueless, an' not hearin' a lick more'n adders,
+somehow he keeps appealin' to me like he's locoed.'
+
+"'Which if you ever has the pleasure to play some poker with him,'
+says Tutt, as he onfolds the paper, 'like I do three nights ago, you
+wouldn't be annoyin' yourse'f about his bein' locoed. I finds him
+plenty deep an' wary, not to say plumb crafty. Another thing, it's
+plain he not only gets letters, but we-all sees him write about his
+drinks to Black Jack, the Red Light barkeep, an' sim'lar plays.'
+
+"By this time, Tutt's got the letter open, an' is gettin' ready to
+read. The dumb man's been standin' thar all the time, with his arms
+roped behind him, an' lookin' like hope has died; an' also like he
+ain't carin' much about it neither. When Tutt turns open the letter,
+I notices the tears kind o' start in his eyes, same as if he's some
+affected sentimental.
+
+"'Which this yere commoonication is plenty brief,' says Tutt, as he
+rums his eye over it. 'She's dated "Casa Grande," an' reads as
+follows, to wit:
+
+"'Dear Ben: Myra is dyin'; come at once. A." "'Now, whoever do you
+reckon this yere Myra is?' asks Tutt, lookin' 'round. 'she's cashin'
+in, that's obvious; an' I'm puttin' it up she's mighty likely a wife
+or somethin' of this yere dumb party.' "'That's it,' says Boggs. 'He
+gets this word that Myra's goin' over the big divide, an' bein' he's
+gone broke entire on faro-bank, he plunges over to the corral an'
+rustles Thompson's hoss. Onder sech circumstances, I ain't none
+shore he's respons'ble. I take-it thar ain't much doubt but Myra's
+his wife that a-way, in which event my idee is he only borrys
+Thompson's pinto. Which nacherally, as I freely concedes, this last
+depends on Myra's bein' his wife.' "'Oh, not necessarily,' says
+Texas Thompson; 'thar's a heap of wives who don't jestify
+hosstealiil' a little bit. Now I plays it open, Myra's this dumb
+gent's mother, an' on sech a theery an' that alone, I removes the
+lariat from his arms an' throws him loose. But don't try to run no
+wife bluff on me; I've been through the wife question with a blazin'
+pine-knot in my hand, an' thar's nothin' worth while concealed
+tharin.' "'Which I adopts the ainendiricnt,' says Boggs, 'an' on
+second thought, I strings my chips with Texas, that this yere Myra's
+his mother. I've got the money that says so.' "'At any rate,' says
+Tutt, 'from all I sees, I reckons it's the general notion that we
+calls this thing a draw. We can't afford to go makin' a preecedent
+of hangin' a gent for hoss-stealin' who's only doin' his best to be
+present at this Myra's fooneral, whoever she may be. It's a heap
+disgustin', however, that we can't open up a talk with this party.
+Which I now notes by the address his name is McIntyre.' "An' so it
+turns out that in no time, from four gents who's dead set to hang
+this dumb man as a boss-thief, we turns into a sympathetic outfit
+which is diggin' holes for his escape. It all dovetails in with what
+my scientist says this mornin' about them moral epidemics,' an'
+things goin' that a-way in waves. For, after all, Myra or no Myra,
+this yere dumb man steals that pinto hoss. "However, whether it's
+right or wrong, we turns the dumb man free. Not only that, but Boggs
+gets out of the saddle an' gives him his pony to pursoo them rambles
+with. "'I gives it to him because it's the best pony in the outfit,'
+says Boggs, lookin' savage at us, as he puts the bridle in the dumb
+gent's hands. 'It can run like a antelope, that pony can; an' that's
+why I donates it to this dumb party. Once he's started, even if we-
+all changes our moods, he's shore an' safe away for good. Moreover,
+a gent whose mother's dyin', can't have too good a hoss. If he don't
+step on no more cactus, an' half rides, he's doo to go chargin' into
+Casa Grande before they loses Myra, easy.'"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+How Prince Hat Got Help.
+
+
+"Come yere, you boy Torn." It was the Old Cattleman addressing his
+black satellite. "Stampede up to their rooms of mine an' fetch me my
+hat; the one with the snakeskin band. My head ain't feelin' none too
+well, owin' to the barkeep of this hostelry changin' my drinks, an'
+that rattlesnake band oughter absorb them aches an' clar'fy my
+roominations a heap. Now, vamos!" he continued, as Tom seemed to
+hesitate, "the big Stetson with the snakeskin onto it.
+
+"An' how be you stackin' up yours'ef?" observed the old gentleman,
+turning to me as his dark agent vanished in quest of head-bear.
+"Which you shorely looks as worn an' weary as a calf jest branded.
+It'll do you good to walk a lot; better come with me. I sort o'
+orig'nates the notion that I'll go swarmin' about permiscus this
+mornin' for a hour or so, an cirk'late my blood, an' you-all is
+welcome to attach yourse'f to the scheme. Thar's nothin' like
+exercise, that a-way, as Grief Mudlow allows when he urges his wife
+to take in washin'. You've done heard of Grief Mudlow, the laziest
+maverick in Tennessee?"
+
+I gave my word that not so much as a rumor of the person Mudlow had
+reached me. My friend expressed surprise. It was now that the black
+boy Tom came up with the desired hat. Tom made his approach with a
+queer backward and forward shuffle, crooning to himself the while:
+
+"Rain come wet me, sun come dry me.
+ Take keer, white man, don't come nigh me." "Stop that double-
+shufflin' an' wing dancin'," remonstrated the old gentleman
+severely, as he took the hat and fixed it on his head. "I don't want
+no frivolities an' merry-makin's 'round me. Which you're always
+jumpin' an' dancin' like one of these yere snapjack bugs. I ain't
+aimin' at pompousness none, but thar's a sobriety goes with them
+years of mine which I proposes to maintain if I has to do it with a
+blacksnake whip. So you-all boy Tom, you look out a whole lot! I'm
+goin' to break you of them hurdy-gurdy tendencies, if I has to make
+you wear hobbles an' frale the duds off your back besides."
+
+Tom smiled toothfully, yet in confident fashion, as one who knows
+his master and is not afraid.
+
+"So you never hears of Grief Mudlow?" he continued, as we strolled
+abroad on our walk. "I reckons mebby you has, for they shore puts
+Grief into a book once, commemoratin' of his laziness. How lazy is
+he? Well, son, he could beat Mexicans an' let 'em deal. He's raised
+away off cast, over among the knobs of old Knox County, Grief is,
+an' he's that lazy he has to leave it on account of the hills.
+
+"'She's too noomerous in them steeps an' deecliv'ties,' says Grief.
+'What I needs is a landscape where the prevailin' feacher is the
+hor'zontal. I was shorely born with a yearnin' for the level
+ground.' An' so Grief moves his camp down on the river bottoms,
+where thar ain't no hills.
+
+"He's that mis'rable idle an' shiftless, this yere Grief is, that
+once he starts huntin' an' then decides he won't. Grief lays down by
+the aige of the branch, with his moccasins towards the water. It
+starts in to rain, an' the storm prounces down on Grief like a mink:
+on a settin' hen. One of his pards sees him across the branch an'
+thinks he's asleep. So he shouts an' yells at him.
+
+"'Whoopee, Grief!' he sings over to where Grief's layin' all quiled
+up same as a water-moccasin snake, an' the rain peltin' into him
+like etarnal wrath; 'wake up thar an' crawl for cover!'
+
+"'I'm awake,' says Grief.
+
+"'Well, why don't you get outen the rain?'
+
+"'I'm all wet now an' the rain don't do no hurt,' says Grief.
+
+"An' this yere lazy Grief Mudlow keeps on layin' thar. It ain't no
+time when the branch begins to raise; the water crawls up about
+Grief's feet. So his pard shouts at him some more:
+
+"'Whoopee, you Grief ag'in!' he says. 'If you don't pull your
+freight, the branch'll get you. It's done riz over the stock of your
+rifle.'
+
+"'Water won't hurt the wood none,' says Grief.
+
+"'You Grief over thar!' roars the other after awhile; 'your feet an'
+laigs is half into the branch, an' the water's got up to the lock of
+your gun.'
+
+"'Thar's no load in the gun,' says Grief, still a-layin', 'an'
+besides she needs washin' out. As for them feet an' laigs, I never
+catches cold.'
+
+"An' thar that ornery Grief reposes, too plumb lazy to move, while
+the branch creeps up about him. It's crope up so high, final, that
+his y'ears an' the back of his head is in it. All Grief does is sort
+o' lift his chin an' lay squar', to keep his nose out so's he can
+breathe.
+
+An' he shorely beats the game; for the rain ceases, an' the branch
+don't rise no higher. This yere Grief lays thar ontil the branch
+runs down an' he's high an' dry ag'in, an' then the sun shines out
+an' dries his clothes. It's that same night when Grief has drug
+himse'f home to supper, he says to his wife, 'Thar's nothin' like
+exercise,' an' then counsels that lady over his corn pone an'
+chitlins to take in washin' like I relates."
+
+We walked on in mute consideration of the extraordinary indolence of
+the worthless Mudlow. Our silence obtained for full ten minutes.
+Then I proposed "courage" as a subject, and put a question.
+
+"Thar's fifty kinds of courage," responded my companion, "an' a gent
+who's plumb weak an' craven, that a-way, onder certain
+circumstances, is as full of sand as the bed of the Arkansaw onder
+others. Thar's hoss-back courage an' thar's foot courage, thar's day
+courage an' night courage, thar's gun courage an' knife courage, an'
+no end of courages besides. An' then thar's the courage of vanity.
+More'n once, when I'm younger, I'm swept down by this last form of
+heroism, an' I even recalls how in a sperit of vainglory I rides a
+buffalo bull. I tells you, son, that while that frantic buffalo is
+squanderin' about the plains that time, an' me onto him, he feels a
+mighty sight like the ridge of all the yooniverse. How does it end?
+It's too long a tale to tell walkin' an' without reecooperatifs;
+suffice it that it ends disastrous. I shall never ride no buffalo
+ag'in, leastwise without a saddle, onless its a speshul o'casion.
+
+"No, indeed, that word 'courage' has to be defined new for each
+case. Thar's old Tom Harris over on the Canadian. I beholds Tom one
+time at Tascosa do the most b'ar-faced trick; one which most sports
+of common sens'bilities would have shrunk from. Thar's a warrant out
+for Tom, an' Jim East the sheriff puts his gun on Tom when Tom's
+lookin' t'other way.
+
+"'See yere, Harris!' says East, that a-way.
+
+"Tom wheels, an' is lookin' into the mouth of East's six-shooter not
+a yard off.
+
+"'Put up your hands!' says East.
+
+"But Tom don't. He looks over the gun into East's eye; an' he
+freezes him. Then slow an' delib'rate, an' glarin' like a mountain
+lion at East, Tom goes back after his Colt's an' pulls it. He lays
+her alongside of East's with the muzzle p'intin' at East's eye. An'
+thar they stands. "'You don't dar' shoot!' says Tom; an' East don't.
+"They breaks away an' no powder burned; Tom stands East off.
+"'Warrant or no warrant,' says Tom, 'all the sheriffs that ever
+jingles a spur in the Panhandle country, can't take me! Nor all the
+rangers neither!' An' they shore couldn't. "Now this yere break-away
+of Tom's, when East gets the drop that time, takes courage. It ain't
+one gent in a thousand who could make that trip but Tom. An' yet
+this yere Tom is feared of a dark room. "Take Injuns;--give 'em
+their doo, even if we ain't got room for them miscreants in our
+hearts. On his lines an' at his games, a Injun is as clean strain as
+they makes. He's got courage, an' can die without battin' an eye or
+waggin' a y'ear, once it's come his turn. An' the squaws is as cold
+a prop'sition as the bucks. After a fight with them savages, when
+you goes 'round to count up an' skin the game, you finds most as
+many squaws lyin' about, an' bullets through 'em, as you finds
+bucks.
+
+"Courage is sometimes knowledge, sometimes ignorance; sometimes
+courage is desp'ration, an' then ag'in it's innocence. "Once, about
+two miles off, when I'm on the Staked Plains, an' near the aige
+where thar's pieces of broken rock, I observes a Mexican on foot,
+frantically chunkin' up somethin'. He's left his pony standin' off a
+little, an' has with him a mighty noisy form of some low kind of
+mongrel dog, this latter standin' in to worry whatever it is the
+Mexican's chunkin' at, that a-way. I rides over to investigate the
+war-jig; an' I'm a mesquite digger! if this yere transplanted
+Castillian ain't done up a full-grown wild cat! It's jest coughin'
+its last when I arrives. Son, I wouldn't have opened a game on that
+feline--the same bein' as big as a coyote, an' as thoroughly
+organized for trouble as a gatling--with anythin' more puny than a
+Winchester. An' yet that guileless Mexican lays him out with rocks,
+and regyards sech feats as trivial. An American, too, by merely
+growlin' towards this Mexican, would make him quit out like a jack
+rabbit. "As I observes prior, courage is frequent the froots of what
+a gent don't know. Take grizzly b'ars. Back fifty years, when them
+squirrel rifles is preevalent; when a acorn shell holds a charge of
+powder, an' bullets runs as light an' little as sixty-four to the
+pound, why son! you-all could shoot up a grizzly till sundown an'
+hardly gain his disdain. It's a fluke if you downs one. That sport
+who can show a set of grizzly b'ar claws, them times, has fame.
+They're as good as a bank account, them claws be, an' entitles said
+party to credit in dance hall, bar room an' store, by merely
+slammin' 'em on the counter. "At that time the grizzly b'ar has
+courage. Whyever does he have it, you asks? Because you couldn't
+stop him; he's out of hoomanity's reach--a sort o' Alexander Selkirk
+of a b'ar, an' you couldn't win from him. In them epocks, the
+grizzly b'ar treats a gent contemptuous. He swats him, or he claws
+him, or he hugs him, or he crunches him, or he quits him accordin'
+to his moods, or the number of them engagements which is pressin' on
+him at the time. An' the last thing he considers is the feelin's of
+that partic'lar party he's dallyin' with. Now, however, all is
+changed. Thar's rifles, burnin' four inches of this yere fulminatin'
+powder, that can chuck a bullet through a foot of green oak. Wisely
+directed, they lets sunshine through a grizzly b'ar like he's a pane
+of glass. An', son, them b'ars is plumb onto the play.
+
+"What's the finish? To-day you can't get clost enough to a grizzly
+to hand him a ripe peach. Let him glimpse or smell a white man, an'
+he goes scatterin' off across hill an' canyon like a quart of licker
+among forty men. They're shore apprehensife of them big bullets an'
+hard-hittin' guns, them b'ars is; an' they wouldn't listen to you,
+even if you talks nothin' but bee-tree an' gives a bond to keep the
+peace besides. Yes, sir; the day when the grizzly b'ar will stand
+without hitchin' has deeparted the calendar a whole lot. They no
+longer attempts insolent an' coarse familiar'ties with folks.
+Instead of regyardin' a rifle as a rotton cornstalk in disguise,
+they're as gun-shy as a female institoote. Big b'ars an' little
+bars, it's all sim'lar; for the old ones tells it to the young, an'
+the lesson is spread throughout the entire nation of b'ars. An'
+yere's where you observes, enlightenment that a-way means a-
+weakenin' of grizzly-b'ar courage.
+
+"What's that, son? You-all thinks my stories smell some tall! You
+expresses doubts about anamiles conversin' with one another? That's
+where you're ignorant. All anamiles talks; they commoonicates the
+news to one another like hoomans. When I've been freightin' from
+Dodge down towards the Canadian, I had a eight-mule team. As shore
+as we're walkin'--as shore as I'm pinin' for a drink, I've listened
+to them mules gossip by the hour as we swings along the trail. Lots
+of times I saveys what they says. Once I hears the off-leader tell
+his mate that the jockey stick is sawin' him onder the chin. I
+investigates an' finds the complaint troo an' relieves him. The nigh
+swing mule is a wit; an' all day long he'd be throwin' off remarks
+that keeps a ripple of laughter goin' up an' down the team. You-all
+finds trouble creditin' them statements. Fact, jest the same. I've
+laughed at the jokes of that swing mule myse'f; an' even Jerry, the
+off wheeler, who's a cynic that a-way, couldn't repress a smile.
+Shore! anamiles talks all the time; it's only that we-all hoomans
+ain't eddicated to onderstand.
+
+"Speakin' of beasts talkin', let me impart to you of what passes
+before my eyes over on the Caliente. In the first place, I'll so far
+illoomine your mind as to tell you that cattle, same as people--an'
+speshully mountain cattle, where the winds an snows don't get to
+drive 'em an' drift 'em south--lives all their lives in the same
+places, year after year; an' as you rides your ranges, you're allers
+meetin' up with the same old cattle in the same canyons. They never
+moves, once they selects a home.
+
+"As I observes, I've got a camp on the Caliente. Thar's ten ponies
+in my bunch, as I'm saddlin' three a day an' coverin' a considerable
+deal of range in my ridin'. Seein' as I'm camped yere some six
+months, I makes the aquaintance of the cattle for over twenty miles
+'round. Among others, thar's a giant bull in Long's Canyon--he's
+shoreiy as big as a log house. Him an' me is partic'lar friends,
+cnly I don't track up on him more frequent than once a week, as he's
+miles from my camp. I almost forgets to say that with this yere
+Goliath bull is a milk-white steer, with long, slim horns an' a face
+which is the combined home of vain conceit an' utter witlessness.
+This milky an' semi-ediotic steer is a most abject admirer of the
+Goliath bull, an' they're allers together. As I states, this
+mountain of a bull an' his weak-minded follower lives in Long's
+Canyon.
+
+"Thar's two more bulls, the same bein', as Colonel Sterett would
+say, also 'persons of this yere dramy.' One is a five-year-old who
+abides on the upper Red River; an' the other, who is only a three-
+year-old, hangs out on the Caliente in the vicinity of my camp.
+
+"Which since I've got to talk of an' concernin' them anamiles, I
+might as well give 'em their proper names. They gets these last all
+reg'lar from a play-actor party who comes swarmin' into the hills
+while I'm thar to try the pine trees on his 'tooberclosis,' as he
+describes said malady, an' whose weakness is to saw off cognomens on
+everythin' he sees. As fast as he's introdooced to 'em, this actor
+sport names the Long's Canyon bull 'Falstaff'; the Red River five-
+year-old 'Hotspur,' bein' he's plumb b'lligerent an' allers makin'
+war medicine; while the little three-year-old, who inhabits about my
+camp in the Caliente, he addresses as 'Prince Hal.' The fool of a
+white steer that's worshippin' about 'Falstaff' gets named 'Pistol,'
+although thar's mighty little about the weak-kneed humbug to remind
+you of anythin' as vehement as a gun. Falstaff, Pistol, Hotspur an'
+Prince Hal; them's the titles this dramatist confers on said cattle.
+
+"Which the West is a great place to dig out new appellations that a-
+way. Thar's a gentle-minded party comes soarin' down on Wolfville
+one evenin'. No, he don't own no real business to transact; he's out
+to have a heart-to-heart interview with the great Southwest, is the
+way he expounds the objects of his search.
+
+"'An' he's plenty tender,' says Black Jack, who's barkeep at the Red
+Light. 'He cornes pushin' along in yere this mornin'; an' wliat do
+you-all reckon now he wants. Asks for ice! Now whatever do you
+make of it! Ice in August, an' within forty miles of the Mexico line
+at that. "Pard," I says, "we're on the confines of the tropics; an'
+while old Arizona is some queer, an' we digs for wood an' climbs for
+water, an' indulges in much that is morally an' physically the
+teetotal reverse of right-side-up-with-care, so far in our
+meanderin's we ain't oncovered no glaciers nor cut the trail of any
+ice. Which if you've brought snowshoes with you now, or been
+figgerin' on a Arizona sleighride, you're settin' in hard luck."'
+
+"Jest as Black Jack gets that far in them statements, this yere
+tenderfoot shows in the door.
+
+"'Be you a resident of Wolfville?' asks this shorthorn of Dave Tutt.
+
+"'I'm one of the seven orig'nal wolves,' says Tutt.
+
+"'Yere's my kyard,' says the shorthorn, an' he beams on Dave in a
+wide an' balmy way.
+
+"'Archibald Willingham De Graffenreid Butt,' says Dave, readin' off
+the kyard. Then Dave goes up to the side, an' all solemn an' grave,
+pins the kyard to the board with his bowie-knife. 'Archibald
+Willingham De Graffenreid Butt,' an' Dave repeats the words plumb
+careful. 'That's your full an' c'rrect name, is it?'
+
+"The shorthorn allows it is, an' surveys Dave in a woozy way like he
+ain't informed none of the meanin' of these yere manoovers.
+
+"'Did you-all come through Tucson with this name?' asks Dave.
+
+"He says he does.
+
+"'An' wasn't nothin' said or done about it?' demands Dave; 'don't
+them Tucson sports take no action?'
+
+"He says nothin' is done.
+
+"'It's as I fears,' says Dave, shakin' his head a heap loogubrious,
+'that Tucson outfit is morally goin' to waste. It's worse than
+careless; it's callous. That's whatever; that camp is callous. Was
+you aimin' to stay for long in Wolfville with this yere title?' asks
+Dave at last.
+
+"The shorthorn mentions a week.
+
+"'This yere Wolfville,' explains Dave, 'is too small for all that
+name. Archibald Willingham De Graffenreid Butt! It shorely sounds
+like a hoss in a dance hall. But it's too long for Wolfville, an'
+Wolfville even do her best. One end of that name is bound to
+protrood. Or else it gets all brunkled up like along nigger in a
+short bed. However,' goes on Dave, as he notes the shorthorn lookin'
+a little dizzy, 'don't lose heart. We does the best we can. I likes
+your looks, an' shall come somewhat to your rescoo myse'f in your
+present troubles. Gents,' an' Dave turns to where Boggs an' Cherokee
+an' Texas Thompson is listenin', 'I moves you we suspends the
+rooles, an' re-names this excellent an' well-meanin' maverick,
+"Butcherknife Bill."'
+
+"'I seconds the motion,' says Boggs. 'Butcherknife Bill is a neat
+an' compact name. I congratulates our visitin' friend from the East
+on the case wherewith he wins it out. I would only make one
+su'gestion, the same bein' in the nacher of amendments to the
+orig'nal resolootion, an' which is, that in all games of short
+kyards, or at sech times as we-all issues invitations to drink, or
+at any other epock when time should be saved an' quick action is
+desir'ble, said cognomen may legally be redooced, to "Butch."'
+
+"'Thar bein' no objections,' says Tutt, 'it is regyarded as the
+sense of the meetin' that this yere visitin' sharp from the States,
+yeretofore clogged in his flight by the name of Archibald Willingham
+De Graffenreid Butt, be yereafter known as "Butcherknife Bill"; or
+failin' leesure for the full name, as "Butch," or both at the
+discretion of the co't, with the drinks on Butch as the gent now
+profitin' by this play. Barkeep, set up all your bottles an' c'llect
+from Butch.'
+
+"But to go back to my long ago camp on the Caliente. Prince Hal is a
+polished an' p'lite sort o' anamile. The second day after I pitches
+camp, Prince Hal shows up. He paws the grass, an' declar's himse'f,
+an' gives notice that while I'm plumb welcome, he wants it
+onderstood that he's party of the first part in that valley, an'
+aims to so continyoo. As I at once agrees to his claims, he is
+pacified; then he counts up the camp like he's sizin' up the
+plunder. It's at this point I signs Prince Hal as my friend for life
+by givin' him about a foot of bacon-skin. He stands an' chews on
+that bacon-skin for two hours; an' thar's heaven in his looks. "It
+gets so Prince Hal puts in all his spar' time at my camp. An' I
+donates flapjacks, bacon-skins an' food comforts yeretofore onknown
+to Prince Hal. He regyards that camp of mine as openin' a new era on
+the Caliente.
+
+"When not otherwise engaged, Prince Hal stands in to curry my ponies
+with his tongue. The one he'd be workin' on would plant himse'f
+rigid, with y'ears drooped, eyes shet, an' tail a-quiverin'; an'
+you-all could see that Prince Hal, with his rough tongue, is jest
+burnin' up that bronco from foretop to fetlocks with the joy of them
+attentions. When Prince Hal has been speshul friendly, I'd pass him
+out a plug of Climax tobacco. Sick? Never once! It merely elevates
+Prince Hal's sperits in a mellow way, that tobacco does; makes him
+feel vivid an' gala a whole lot.
+
+"Which we're all gettin' on as pleasant an' oneventful as a litter
+of pups over on the Caliente, when one mornin' across the divide
+from Red River comes this yere pugnacious person, Hotspur. He makes
+his advent r'arin' an' slidin' down the hillside into our valley,
+promulgatin' insults, an' stampin' for war. You can see it in
+Hotspur's eye; he's out to own the Caliente.
+
+"Prince Hal is curryin' a pony when this yere invader comes crashin'
+down the sides of the divide. His eyes burn red, he evolves his
+warcry in a deep bass voice, an' goes curvin' out onto the level of
+the valley-bottom to meet the enemy. Gin'ral Jackson, couldn't have
+displayed more promptitood.
+
+"Thar ain't much action in one of them cattle battles. First,
+Hotspur an' Prince Hal stalks 'round, pawin' up a sod now an' then,
+an' sw'arin' a gale of oaths to themse'fs. It looks like Prince Hal
+could say the most bitter things, for at last Hotspur leaves off his
+pawin' ail' profanity an' b'ars down on him. The two puts their
+fore'ards together an' goes in for a pushin' match.
+
+"But this don't last. Hotspur is two years older, an' over-weighs
+Prince Hal about three hundred pounds. Prince Hal feels Hotspur out,
+an' sees that by the time the deal goes to the turn, he'll be shore
+loser. A plan comes into his mind. Prince Hal suddenly backs away,
+an' keeps on backin' ontil he's cl'ared himse'f from his foe by
+eighty feet. Hotspur stands watchin'; it's a new wrinkle in bull
+fights to him. He call tell that this yere Prince Hal ain't
+conquered none, both by the voylent remarks he makes as well as the
+plumb defiant way he wears his tail. So Hotspur stands an' ponders
+the play, guessin' at what's likely to break loose next.
+
+"But the conduct of this yere Prince Hal gets more an' more
+mysterious. When he's a safe eighty feet away, he jumps in the air,
+cracks his heels together, hurls a frightful curse at Hotspur, an'
+turns an' walks off a heap rapid. Hotspur can't read them signs at
+all; an' to be frank, no more can I. Prince Hal never looks back; he
+surges straight ahead, climbs the hill on the other side, an' is
+lost in the oak bushes.
+
+"Hotspur watches him out of sight, gets a drink in the Caliente, an'
+then climbs the hillside to where I'm camped, to decide about me. Of
+course, Hotspur an' I arrives at a treaty of peace by the bacon-rind
+route, an' things ag'in quiets down on the Caliente.
+
+"It's next mornin' about fourth drink time, an' I'm overhaulin' a
+saddle an' makin' up some beliefs on several subjects of interest,
+when I observes Hotspur's face wearin' a onusual an' highly hang-dog
+expression. An' I can't see no cause. I sweeps the scenery with my
+eye, but I notes nothin'. An' yet it's as evident as a club flush
+that Hotspur's scared to a standstill. He ain't sayin nothin', but
+that's because he thinks he'll save his breath to groan with when
+dyin'. It's a fact, son; I couldn't see nor hear a thing, an' yet
+that Hotspur bull stands thar fully aware, somehow, that thar's a
+warrant out for him.
+
+"At last I'm made posted of impendin' events. Across the wide
+Caliente comes a faint but f'rocious war song. I glance over that a-
+way, an' thar through the oak bresh comes Prince Hal. An' although
+he's a mile off, he's p'intin' straight for this yere invader,
+Hotspur. At first I thinks Prince Hal's alone, an' I'm marvellin'
+whatever he reckons he's goin' to a'complish by this return. But
+jest then I gets a glimmer, far to Prince Hal's r'ar, of that
+reedic'lous Pistol, the milk-white steer.
+
+"I beholds it all; Falstaff is comin'; only bein' a dark brown I
+can't yet pick him out o' the bresh. Prince Hal has travelled over
+to Long's Canyon an' told the giant Falstaff how Hotspur jumps into
+the Caliente an' puts it all over him that a-way. Falstaff is
+lumberin' over--it's a journey of miles--to put this redundant
+Hotspur back on his reservation. Prince Hal, bein' warm, lively an'
+plumb zealous to recover his valley, is nacherally a quarter of a
+mile ahead of Falstaff.
+
+"It's allers a question with me why this yere foolhardy Hotspur
+don't stampede out for safety. But he don't; he stands thar lookin'
+onusual limp, an' awaits his fate. Prince Hal don't rush up an'
+mingle with Hotspur; he's playin' a system an' he don't deviate
+tharfrom. lie stands off about fifty yards, callin' Hotspur names,
+an' waitin' for Falstaff to arrive.
+
+"An' thar's a by-play gets pulled off. This ranikaboo Pistol, who
+couldn't fight a little bit, an' who's caperin' along ten rods in
+the lead of Falstaff, gets the sudden crazy-boss notion that he'll
+mete out punishment to Hotspur himse'f, an' make a reputation as a
+war-eagle with his pard an' patron, Falstaff. With that, Pistol
+curves his tail like a letter S, and, lowerin' his knittin'-needle
+horns, comes dancin' up to Hotspur. The bluff of this yere ignoble
+Pistol is too much. Hotspur r'ars loose an' charges him. This
+egreegious Pistol gets crumpled up, an' Hotspur goes over him like a
+baggage wagon. The shock is sech that Pistol falls over a wash-bank;
+an' after swappin' end for end, lands twenty feet below with a groan
+an' a splash in the Caliente. Pistol is shorely used up, an' crawls
+out on the flat ground below, as disconsolate a head o' cattle as
+ever tempts the echoes with his wails.
+
+"But Hotspur has no space wherein to sing his vict'ry. Falstaff
+decends upon him like a fallin' tree. With one rushin' charge, an' a
+note like thunder, he simply distributes that Hotspur all over the
+range. Thar's only one blow; as soon as Hotspur can round up his
+fragments an' net to his hoofs, he goes sailin' down the valley, his
+eyes stickin' out so's he can see his sins. As he starts, Prince
+Hal, who's been hoppin' about the rim of the riot, claps his horns
+to Hotspur's flyin' hocks an' keeps him goin'. But it ain't needed
+none; that Falstaff actooally ruins Hotspur with the first charge.
+
+"That night Falstaff, with the pore Pistol jest able to totter,
+stays with us, an' Prince Hal fusses an' bosses' 'round, sort o'
+directin' their entertainment. The next afternoon Falstaff gives a
+deep bellow or two, like he's extendin' 'adios' to the entire
+Caliente canyon, an' then goes pirootin' off for home in Long's,
+with Pistol, who looks an' feels like a laughin' stock, limpin' at
+his heels. That's the end. Four days later, as I'm swingin' 'round
+the range, I finds Falstaff an' Pistol in Long's Canyon; Prince Hal
+is on the Caliente; while Hotspur--an' his air is both wise an' sad-
+-is tamely where he belongs on the Upper Red. An' now recallin' how
+I comes to plunge into this yere idyl, I desires to ask you-all,
+however Prince Hal brings Faistaff to the wars that time, if cattle
+can't talk?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+How Wolfville Made a Jest.
+
+
+"It's soon after that time I tells you of when Rainbow Sam dies
+off," and the Old Cattleman assumed the airs of a conversational
+Froude, "when the camp turns in an' has its little jest with the
+Signal Service sharp. You sees we're that depressed about Rainbow
+cashin' in, we needc reelaxatin that a-way, so we-all nacheral
+enough diverts ourse'fs with this Signal party who comes bulgin' up
+all handy.
+
+"Don't make no mistaken notions about Wolfville bein' a idle an' a
+dangerous camp. Which on the contrary, Wolfville is shorely the home
+of jestice, an' a squar' man gets a squar' game every time. Thar
+ain't no 'bad men' 'round Wolfville, public sentiment bein' obdurate
+on that p'int. Hard people, who has filed the sights offen their
+six-shooters or fans their guns in a fight, don't get tolerated,
+none whatever.
+
+"Of course, thar's gents in Wolfville who has seen trouble an' seen
+it in the smoke. Cherokee Hall, for instance, so Doc Peets mentions
+to me private, one time an' another downs 'leven men.
+
+"But Cherokee's by nacher kind o' warm an' nervous, an' bein' he's
+behind a faro game, most likely he sees more o'casion; at any rate,
+it's common knowledge that whatever he's done is right.
+
+"He don't beef them 'leven in Wolfville; all I recalls with us, is
+the man from Red Dog, the Stingin' Lizard, an' mebby a strayed
+Mexican or so. But each time Cherokee's hand is forced by these yere
+parties, an' he's exculpated in every gent's mind who is made awar'
+tharof.
+
+"No; Cherokee don't rely allers on his gun neither. He's a hurryin'
+knife fighter for a gent with whom knives ain't nacher. Either way,
+however, gun or knife, Cherokee is a heap reliable; an' you can put
+down a bet that what he misses in the quadrille he'll shore make up
+in the waltz with all who asks him to a war dance. But speakin' of
+knives: Cherokee comes as quick an' straight with a bowie as a
+rattlesnake; an' not half the buzz about it.
+
+"But jest the same, while thar's gents in camp like Cherokee, who
+has been ag'inst it more'n once, an' who wins an' gets away, still
+Wolfviile's its quiet an' sincere an outfit as any christian could
+ask.
+
+"It's a fact; when Shotgun Dowling capers in an' allows he's about
+to abide with us a whole lot, he's notified to hunt another hole the
+first day.
+
+"'So far from you-all livin' with us, Shotgun,' says Jack Moore,
+who's depooted to give Shotgun Dowling the rein; 'so far from you
+bunkin' in yere for good, we ain't even aimin' to permit your
+visits. My notion is that you better pull your freight some instant.
+Thar's a half-formed thought in the public bosom that if anybody
+sees your trail to-morry, all hands'll turn in an' arrange you for
+the grave.'
+
+"'Never mind about arrangin' nothin',' says Shotgun; 'I quits you
+after the next drink; which libation I takes alone.' An' Shotgun
+rides away.
+
+"What is the matter with Shotgun? Well, he's one of these yere
+murderin' folks, goin' about downin' Mexicans merely to see 'em
+kick, an' that sort of thing, an' all of which no se'f-respectin'
+outfit stands. He wins out his name 'Shotgun' them times when he's
+dep'ty marshal over at Prescott.
+
+"'You must be partic'lar an' serve your warrant on a gent before you
+downs him,' says the judge, as he gives Shotgun some papers. 'First
+serve your warrant, an' then it's legal to kill him; but not
+without!'
+
+"So Shotgun Dowling takes this yere warrant an' crams it down the
+muzzle of a shotgun an' hammers her out flat on top them buckshot.
+
+"'Thar you be!' says Dowling. 'I reckons' now the warrant gets to
+him ahead of the lead; which makes it on the level.'
+
+"Tharupon Shotgun canters out an' busts his gent--warrant, lead an'
+all--an' that gives him the name of 'Shotgun' Dowling.
+
+"But at the time he comes riotin' along into Wolfville, allowin'
+he'll reside some, he's regyarded hard; havin' been wolfin' 'round,
+copperin' Mexicans an' friskin' about general; so, nacheral, we
+warns him out as aforesaid. Which I, tharfore, ag'in remarks, that
+Wolfville is a mighty proper an' peaceful place, an' its witticism
+with this yere Signal Service party needn't be inferred ag'inst it.
+
+"This yere gent has been goin' about casooal, an' his air is a heap
+high-flown. He's been pesterin' an' irritatin' about the post-office
+for mighty like an hour, when all at once he crosses over to the Red
+Light an' squar's up to the bar. He don't invite none of us to
+licker--jest himse'f; which onp'liteness is shore received
+invidious.
+
+"'Gimme a cocktail,' says this Signal person to the barkeep.
+
+"As they ain't mixin' no drinks at the Red Light for man or beast,
+nor yet at Hamilton's hurdy-gurdy, this sport in yooniform don't get
+no cocktail.
+
+"'Can't mix no drinks,' says Black Jack.
+
+"'Can't mix no cocktail?' says the Signal sharp. 'Why! what a band
+of prairie dogs this yere hamlet is! What's the matter with you-all
+that you can't mix no cocktails? Don't you savey enough?'
+
+"'Do we-all savey enough?' says Black Jack, some facetious that a-
+way. 'Stranger, we simply suffers with what we saveys. But thar's a
+law ag'in cocktails an' all mixin' of drinks. You sees, a Mexican
+female over in Tucson is one day mixin' drinks for a gent she's a-
+harborin' idees ag'in, an' she rings in the loco onto him, an' he
+goes plumb crazy. Then the Legislatoore arouses itse'f to its peril,
+that a-way, an' ups an makes a law abatin' of mixed drinks. This
+yere bein' gospel trooth, you'll have to drink straight whiskey; an'
+you might as well drink it outen a tin cup, too.'
+
+"As he says this, Black Jack sets up a bottle an' a tin cup, an'
+then for a blazer slams a six-shooter on the bar at the same time.
+Lookin' some bloo tharat, the Signal sharp takes a gulp or two of
+straight nose-paint, cavilin' hot at the tin cup, an' don't mention
+nothin' more of cocktails.
+
+"'Whatever is the damage anyhow?' he says to Black Jack, soon as
+he's quit gaggin' over the whiskey, the same tastin' raw an' vicious
+to him, an' him with his lady-like throat framed ready for
+cocktails. 'What's thar to pay?'
+
+"'Nary contouse,' says Black Jack, moppin' of the bar complacent.
+'Not a soo markee. That drink's on the house, stranger.'
+
+"When this Signal sharp goes out, Enright says he's got pore
+manners, an' he marvels some he's still walkin' the earth.
+
+"'However,' says Enright, 'I s'pose his livin' so long arises mainly
+from stayin' East, where they don't make no p'int on bein' p'lite,
+an' runs things looser.'
+
+"'Whatever's the matter of chasin' this insultin' tenderfoot 'round
+a lot,' asks Texas Thompson, 'an' havin' amoosement with him? Thar
+ain't nothin' doin', an' we oughter not begretch a half-day's work,
+puttin' knowledge into this party. If somethin' ain't done forthwith
+to inform his mind as to them social dooties while he stays in
+Arizona, you can gamble he won't last to go East no more.'
+
+"As what Texas Thompson says has weight, thar begins to grow a
+gen'ral desire to enlighten this yere sport. As Texas su'gests the
+idee, it follows that he goes for'ard to begin its execootion.
+
+"'But be discreet, Texas,' says Enrialit, 'an' don't force no
+showdown with this Signal gent. Attainin' wisdom is one thing, an'
+bein' killed that a-way, is plumb different; an' while I sees no
+objection to swellin' the general fund of this young person's
+knowledge, I don't purpose that you-all's goin' to confer no
+diplomas, an' graduate him into the choir above none with a gun, at
+one an' the same time.'
+
+"'None whatever,' says Texas Thompson; 'we merely toys with this
+tenderfoot an' never so much as breaks his crust, or brings a drop
+of blood, the slightest morsel. He's takin' life too lightly; an'
+all we p'ints out to do, is sober him an' teach him a thoughtful
+deecorum.'
+
+"Texas Thompson goes a-weavin' up the street so as to cross the
+trail of this Signal party, who's headed down. As they passes, Texas
+turns as f'rocious as forty timber wolves, an' claps his hand on the
+shoulder of the Signal party.
+
+"'How's this yere?' says Texas, shakin' back his long ha'r. An' he
+shorely looks hardened, that a-way.
+
+"'How's what?' says the Signal man, who's astonished to death.
+
+"'You saveys mighty well,' says Texas. 'You fails to bow to me,
+aimin' to insult an' put it all over me in the presence of this yere
+multitood. Think of it, gents!' goes on Texas, beginnin' to froth,
+an' a-raisin' of his voice to a whoop; 'think of it, an' me the war-
+chief of the Panhandle, with forty-two skelps on my bridle, to be
+insulted an' disdained by a feeble shorthorn like this. It shore
+makes me wonder be I alive!
+
+"'Stranger,' goes on Texas, turnin' to the Signal party, an' his
+hand drops on his gun, an' he breathes loud like a buffalo; 'nothin'
+but blood is goin' to do me now. If I was troo to myse'f at this
+moment, I'd take a knife an' shorely split you like a mackerel. But
+I restrains myse'f; also I don't notice no weepon onto you. Go
+tharfore, an' heel yourse'f, for by next drink time the avenger 'll
+be huntin' on your trail. I gives you half an hour to live. Not on
+your account, 'cause it ain't comin' to you; but merely not to ketch
+no angels off their gyard, an' to allow 'em a chance to organize for
+your reception. Besides, I don't aim to spring no corpses on this
+camp. Pendin' hostil'ties, I shall rest myse'f in the Red Light,
+permittin' you the advantages of the dance hall, where Hamilton 'll
+lend you pen, ink, paper, an' monte table, wharby to concoct your
+last will. Stranger, adios!'
+
+"By the time Texas gets off this talk an' starts for the Red Light,
+the Signal sport is lookin' some sallow an' perturbed. He's shorely
+alarmed.
+
+"'See yere, pard,' says Dan Boggs, breakin' loose all at once, like
+he's so honest he can't restrain himse'f, an' jest as Texas heads
+out for the Red Light; 'you're a heap onknown to me, but I takes a
+chance an' stands your friend. Now yere's what you do. You stiffen
+yourse'f up with a Colt's '44, an' lay for this Texas Thompson. He's
+a rustler an' a hoss-thief, an' a murderer who, as he says, has
+planted forty-two, not countin' Injuns, Mexicans an' mavericks. He
+oughter be massacred; an' as it's come your way, why prance in an'
+spill his blood. This camp'll justify an' applaud the play.
+
+"'But I can't fight none,' says the Signal party. 'It's ag'in the
+rooles an' reg'lations of the army.'
+
+"'Which I don't see none how you're goin' to renig,' says Dave Tutt.
+'This debauchee is doo to shoot you on sight. Them army rooles
+shortly should permit a gent to scout off to one side the strict
+trail a little; partic'lar when it's come down to savin' his own
+skelp.'
+
+"One way an' another, Tutt an' Boggs makes it cl'ar as paint to the
+Signal party that thar's only two chances left in the box; either he
+downs Texas or Texas gets him. The Signal party says it's what he
+calls a 'dread alternatif.'
+
+"'Which when I thinks of the gore this yere murderous Thompson
+already dabbles in,' says Boggs to the Signal party, 'I endorses
+them expressions. However, you put yourse'f in the hands of me an'
+Dave, an' we does our best. If you lives through it, the drinks is
+on you; an' if Texas beefs you--which, while deplorable, is none
+remote considerin' this yere Texas is a reg'lar engine of
+destruction--we sees that your remainder goes back to the States
+successful.'
+
+"The Signal party says he's thankful he's found friends, an'
+tharupon they-all lines out for the dance hall, where they gets
+drinks, an' the Signal man, who's some pallid by now, figgers he'll
+write them letters an' sort o' straighten up his chips for the
+worst. Boggs observes that it's a good move, an' that Tutt an' he'll
+take an o'casional drink an' ride herd on his interests while he
+does.
+
+"Tutt an' Boggs have got their brands onto mebby two drinks, when
+over comes Doc Peets, lookin' deadly dignified an' severe, an' says:
+
+"'Who-all represents yere for this gent who's out for the blood of
+my friend, Texas Thompson?'
+
+"'Talk to me an' Tutt,' says Boggs; 'an' cut her short, 'cause it's
+the opinion of our gent this rancorous Thompson infests the earth
+too long, an' he's hungerin' to begin his butchery.'
+
+"'Which thar's enough said,' says Peets; 'I merely appears to notify
+you that in five minutes I parades my gent in front of the post-
+office, an' the atrocities can proceed. They fights with six-
+shooters; now what's the distance?'
+
+"'Make it across a blanket,' says Tutt.
+
+"'An' fold the blanket,' breaks in Boggs.
+
+"'You can't make it too clost for my gent,' says Peets. 'As I starts
+to this yere conference, he says: "Doc, make her six-shooters an'
+over a handkerchief. I thirsts to shove the iron plumb ag'inst the
+heart that insults me, as I onhooks my weepon."'
+
+"Of course, the poor Signal party, tryin' to write over by a monte
+table, an' spillin' ink all over himse'f, listens to them remarks,
+an' it makes him feel partic'lar pensif.
+
+"'In five minutes, then,' says Peets, 'you-all organize your gent
+an' come a-runnin'. I must canter over to see how Texas is holdin'
+himse'f. He's that fretful a minute back, he's t'arin' hunks outen a
+white-ash table with his teeth like it's ginger-cake, an' moanin'
+for blood. Old Monte's lookin' after him, but I better get back.
+Which he might in his frenzy, that a-way, come scatterin' loose any
+moment, an' go r'arin' about an' killin' your gent without orders.
+Sech a play would be onelegant an' no delicacy to it; an' I now
+returns to gyard ag'in it.'
+
+"As soon as Peets is started for the Red Light, Tutt ag'in turns to
+the Signal party, who's settin' thar lookin' he'pless an' worried,
+like he's a prairie dog who's come back from visitin' some other
+dog, an' finds a rattlesnake's done pitched camp in the mouth of his
+hole.
+
+"'Now then, stranger,' says Tutt, 'if you-all has a'complished that
+clerical work, me an' Dan will lead you to your meat. When you gets
+to shootin', aim low an' be shore an' see your victim every time you
+cuts her loose.'
+
+"The Signal party takes it plumb gray an' haggard, but not seein' no
+other way, he gets up, an' after stampin' about a trifle nervous,
+allows, since it's the best he can do, he's ready.
+
+"'Which it is spoke like a man,' says Boggs. 'So come along, an'
+we'll hunt out this annihilator from Laredo an' make him think he's
+been caught in a cloudburst.'
+
+"Old Monte has spread a doubled blanket in front of the post-office;
+an' as Tutt an' Boggs starts with their Signal party, thar's a yell
+like forty Apaches pours forth from across the street.
+
+"'That's Thompson's war yelp,' says Boggs, explainin' of them
+clamors to the Signal party. 'Which it would seem from the fervor he
+puts into it, he's shorely all keyed up.'
+
+"As Doc Peets comes out a-leadin' of Texas, it's noticed that Texas
+has got a tin cup.
+
+"'Whatever's your gent a-packin' of that yootensil for?' demands
+Tutt, mighty truculent. 'Is this yere to be a combat with dippers?'
+
+"'Oh, no!' says Peets, like he's tryin' to excuse somethin', 'but he
+insists on fetchin' it so hard, that at last to soothe him I gives
+my consent.'
+
+"'Well, we challenges the dipper,' says Tutt. 'You-all will fight on
+the squar', or we removes our gent.'
+
+"'Don't, don't!' shouts Texas, like he's agitatcd no limit; 'don't
+take him outen my sight no more. I only fetches the cup to drink his
+blood; but it's a small detail, which I shore relinquishes before
+ever I allows my heaven-sent prey the least loophole to escape.'
+
+"When Peets goes up an' takes Texas's cup, the two debates together
+in a whisper, Texas lettin' on he's mighty hot an' furious. At last
+Peets says to him:
+
+"'Which I tells you sech a proposal is irreg'lar; but since you
+insists, of course I names it. My gent yere,' goes on Peets to Boggs
+an' Tutt, 'wants to agree that the survivor's to be allowed to skelp
+his departed foe. Does the bluff go?'
+
+"'It's what our gent's been urgin' from the jump,' says Boggs; 'an'
+tharfore we consents with glee. Round up that outlaw of yours now,
+an' let's get to shootin'.'
+
+"I don't reckon I ever sees anybody who seems as fatigued as that
+Signal person when Boggs an' Tutt starts to lead him up to the
+blanket. His face looks like a cancelled postage-stamp. While
+they're standin' up their folks, Texas goes ragin' loose ag'in
+because it's a fight over a blanket an' not a handkerchief, as he
+demands.
+
+"'What's the meanin' of a cold an' formal racket sech as this?' he
+howls, turnin' to Peets. 'I wants to go clost to my work; I wants to
+crowd in where it's warm.'
+
+"'I proposes a handkerchief,' says Peets; 'but Tutt objects on the
+grounds that his man's got heart palp'tations or somethin'.'
+
+"'You're a liar,' yells Tutt; 'our gent's heart's as solid as a sod
+house.'
+
+"'What do I hear?' shouts Peets. 'You calls me a liar?'
+
+"At this Tutt an' Peets lugs out their guns an' blazes away at each
+other six times like the roll of a drum--Texas all the time yellin'
+for a weepon, an' cavortin' about in the smoke that demoniac he'd
+scare me, only I knows it's yoomerous. Of course Peets an' Tutt
+misses every shot, and at the windup, after glarin' at each other
+through the clouds, Peets says to Tutt:
+
+"'This yere is mere petulance. Let's proceed with our dooties. As
+soon as Texas has killed an' skelped the hold-up you represents,
+I'll shoot it out with you, if it takes the autumn.'
+
+"'That's good enough for a dog,' says Tutt, stickin' his gun back in
+the scabbard; 'an' now we proceeds with the orig'nal baite.'
+
+"But they don't proceed none. As Tutt turns to his Signal sharp,
+who's all but locoed by the shootin', an' has to be detained by
+Boggs from runnin' away, Jack Moore comes chargin' up on his pony
+an' throws a gun on the whole outfit.
+
+"'Hands up yere!' he says, sharp an' brief; 'or I provides the
+coyotes with meat for a month to come.'
+
+"Everybody's hands goes up; an' it's plain Moore's comin' ain't no
+disapp'intment to the Signal person. He's that relieved he shows it.
+
+"'Don't look so tickled,' growls Boggs to him, as Moore heads the
+round-up for the New York Store; 'don't look so light about it; you
+mortifies me.'
+
+"Moore takes the band over to the New York Store, where Enright's
+settin' as a jedge. He allows he's goin' to put 'em all on trial for
+disturbin' of Wolfville's peace. The Signal sharp starts to say
+somethin', when Peets interrupts, an' that brings Boggs to the
+front, an' after that a gen'ral uproar breaks loose like a stampede.
+
+"'Gimme a knife, somebody,' howls Texas, 'an' let me get in on this
+as I should. Am I to be robbed of my revenge like this?'
+
+"But Enright jumps for a old Spencer seven-shooter, an' announces it
+cold, he's out to down the first gent that talks back to him a
+second time. This ca'ms 'em, an' the riot sort o' simmers.
+
+"'Not that I objects to a street fight,' says Enright, discussin' of
+the case; 'but you-all talks too much. From the jabber as was goin'
+for'ard over that blanket out thar, it shorely reminds me more of a
+passel of old ladies at a quiltin' bee, than a convocation of
+discreet an' se'f-respectin' gents who's pullin' off a dooel. To cut
+her short, the public don't tolerate no sech rackets, an' yere-upon
+I puts Texas Thompson an' this Signal party onder fifty-thousand-
+dollar bonds to keep the peace.'
+
+"Texas is set loose, with Peets an' Cherokee Hall on his papers; but
+the Signal sharp, bein' strange in camp, can't put up no bonds.
+
+"'Whlch as thar's no calaboose to put you into,' says Enright, when
+he's told by the Signal party that he can't make no bonds; 'an' as
+it's plumb ag'in the constitootion of Arizona to let you go, I shore
+sees no trail out but hangin'. I regrets them stern necessities
+which feeds a pore young man to the halter, but you sees yourse'f
+the Union must an' shall be preserved. Jack, go over to my pony an'
+fetch the rope. It's a new half-inch manilla, but I cheerfully parts
+with it in the cause of jestice.'
+
+"When Moore gets back with the rope, an' everybody's lookin'
+serious, that a-way, it shakes the Signal party to sech a degree
+that he camps down on a shoe-box an' allows he needs a drink. Boggs
+says he'll go after it, when Tutt breaks in an' announces that he's
+got a bluff to hand up.
+
+"'If I'm dead certain,' says Tutt, surveyin' of the Signal party a
+heap doubtful; 'if I was shore now that this gent wouldn't leave the
+reservation none, I'd go that bond myse'f. But I'm in no sech fix
+financial as makes it right for me to get put in the hole for fifty
+thousand dollars by no stranger, however intimate we be. But yere's
+what I'm willin' to do: If this sharp wears hobbles so he can't up
+an' canter off, why, rather than see a young gent's neck a foot
+longer, I goes this bail myse'f.'
+
+"The Signal party is eager for hobbles, an' he gives Tutt his word
+to sign up the documents an' he wont run a little bit.
+
+"'Which the same bein' now settled, congenial an' legal,' says
+Enright, when Tutt signs up; 'Jack Moore he'ps the gent on with them
+hobbles, an' the court stands adjourned till further orders.'
+
+"After he's all hobbled an' safe, Tutt an' the Signal party starts
+over for the post-office, both progressin' some slow an' reluctant
+because of the Signal party's hobbles holdin' him down to a shuffle.
+As they toils along, Tutt says:
+
+"'An' now that this yere affair ends so successful, I'd shore admire
+to know whatever you an' that cut-throat takes to chewin' of each
+other's manes for, anyway? Why did you refoose to bow?'
+
+"'Which I never refooses once,' says the Signal party; 'I salootes
+this Texas gent with pleasure, if that's what he needs.'
+
+"'In that case,' says Tutt, 'you make yourse'f comfortable leanin'
+ag'in this buildin', an' I'll project over an' see if this embroglio
+can't be reeconciled a lot. Mootual apol'gies an' whiskey, looks
+like, ought to reepair them dissensions easy.'
+
+"So the Signal party leans up ag'in the front of the post-office an'
+surveys his hobbles mighty melancholy, while Tutt goes over to the
+Red Light to look up Texas Thompson. It ain't no time when he's
+headed back with Texas an' the balance of the band.
+
+"'Give us your hand, pard,' says Texas, a heap effoosive, as he
+comes up to the Signal party; 'I learns from our common friend, Dave
+Tutt, that this yere's a mistake, an' I tharfore forgives you freely
+all the trouble you causes. It's over now an' plumb forgot. You're a
+dead game sport, an' I shakes your hand with pride.'
+
+"'Same yere,' says Doc Peets, also shakin' of the Signal party's
+hand, which is sort o' limp an' cheerless.
+
+"However, we rips off his hobbles, an' then the outfit steers over
+to the Red Light to be regaled after all our hard work.
+
+"'Yere's hopin' luck an' long acquaintance, stranger,' says Texas,
+holdin' up his glass to the Signal party, who is likewise p'lite,
+but feeble.
+
+"'Which the joyous outcome of this tangle shows,' says Dan Boggs, as
+he hammers his glass on the bar an' shouts for another all 'round,
+'that you-all can't have too much talk swappin', when the objects of
+the meetin' is to avert blood. How much better we feels, standin'
+yere drinkin' our nose-paint all cool an' comfortable, an'
+congrat'latin' the two brave sports who's with us, than if we has a
+corpse sawed onto us onexpected, an' is driven to go grave-diggin'
+in sech sun-blistered, sizzlin' weather as this.'
+
+"'That's whatever,' says Dave Tutt; 'an' I fills my cup in approval,
+you can gamble, of them observations.'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+Death; and the Donna Anna.
+
+
+"Locoweed? Do I savey loco?" The Old Cattleman's face offered full
+hint of his amazement as he repeated in the idiom of his day and
+kind the substance of my interrogatory.
+
+"Why, son," he continued, "every longhorn who's ever cinched a
+Colorado saddle, or roped a steer, is plumb aware of locoweed. Loco
+is Mexicano for mad--crazy. An' cattle or mules or ponies or
+anythin' else, that makes a repast of locoweed--which as a roole
+they don't, bein' posted instinctif that loco that a-way is no
+bueno--goes crazy; what we-all in the Southwest calls 'locoed.'
+
+"Whatever does this yere plant resemble? I ain't no sharp on loco,
+but the brand I encounters is green, bunchy, stiff, an' stands
+taller than the grass about it. An' it ain't allers thar when looked
+for, loco ain't. It's one of these yere migratory weeds; you'll see
+it growin' about the range mebby one or two seasons, an' then it
+sort o' pulls its freight. Thar wont come no more loco for years.
+
+"Mostly, as I observes prior, anamiles disdains loco, an' passes it
+up as bad medicine. They're organized with a notion ag'inst it, same
+as ag'inst rattlesnakes An'as for them latter reptiles, you can
+take a preacher's hoss, foaled in the lap of civilization, who ain't
+seen nothin' more broadenin' than the reg'lar church service, with
+now an' then a revival, an' yet he's born knowin' so much about
+rattlesnakes in all their hein'ousness, that he'll hunch his back
+an' go soarin' 'way up yonder at the first Zizzz-z-z-z.
+
+"Doc Peets informs me once when we crosses up with some locoweed
+over by the Cow Springs, that thar's two or three breeds of this
+malignant vegetable. He writes down for me the scientific name of
+the sort we gets ag'inst. Thar she is."
+
+And my friend produced from some recess of a gigantic pocketbook a
+card whereon the learned Peets had written oxytropis Lamberti.
+
+"That's what Peets says loco is," he resumed, as I handed back the
+card. "Of course, I don't go surgin' off pronouncin' no sech words;
+shorely not in mixed company. Some gent might take it personal an'
+resent it. But I likes to pack 'em about, an' search 'em out now an'
+then, jest to gaze on an' think what a dead cold scientist Doc Peets
+is. He's shorely the high kyard; thar never is that drug-sharp in
+the cow country in my day who's fit to pay for Peets' whiskey.
+Scientific an' eddicated to a feather aige, Peets is. "You-all
+oughter heard him lay for one of them cliff-climbin', bone-huntin'
+stone c'llectors who comes out from Washin'ton for the Gov'ment. One
+of these yere deep people strikes Wolfville on one of them rock-
+roundups he's makin', an' for a-while it looks like he's goin' to
+split things wide open. He's that contrary about his learnin', he
+wont use nothin' but words of four syllables-words that runs about
+eight to the pound. He comes into the New York Store where Boggs an'
+Tutt an' me is assembled, an', you hear me, son! that savant has us
+walkin' in a cirkle in a minute. "It's Peets who relieves us. Peets
+strolls up an' engages this person in a debate touchin' mule-hoof
+hawgs; the gov'ment sport maintainin' thar ain't no such swine with
+hoofs like a mule, because he's never heard about 'em; an' Peets
+takin' the opp'site view because he's done met an' eat 'etn a whole
+lot. "'The mere fact,' says Peets to this scientist, 'that you
+mavericks never knows of this mule-hoof hawg, cannot be taken as
+proof he does not still root an' roam the land. Thar's more than one
+of you Washin'ton shorthorns who's chiefly famed for what he's
+failed to know. The mule-hoof hawg is a fact; an' the ignorance of
+closet naturalists shall not prevail ag'inst him. His back is arched
+like a greyhound's, he's about the thickness of a bowie-knife, he's
+got hoofs like a mule, an' sees his highest deevelopment in the
+wilds of Arkansaw.' "But speakin' of locoweed, it's only o'casional
+that cattle or mules or broncos partakes tharof. Which I might
+repeat for the third time that, genial, they eschews it. But you--
+all never will know how wise a anamile is till he takes to munchin'
+loco. Once he's plumb locoed, he jest don't know nothin'; then it
+dawns on you, by compar'son like, how much he saveys prior. The
+change shows plainest in mules; they bein'--that is, the mule normal
+an' before he's locoed--the wisest of beasts. Wise, did I say? A
+mule is more than valise, he's sagacious. An' thar's a mighty sight
+of difference. To be simply wise, all one has to do is set 'round
+an' think wise things, an' mebby say 'em. It's only when a gent goes
+trackin' 'round an' does wise things, you calls him sagacious. An'
+mules does wisdom.
+
+"Shore! I admits it; I'm friendly to mules. If the Southwest ever
+onbends in a intellectual competition--whites barred--mules will
+stand at the head. The list should come out, mules, coyotes, Injuns,
+Mexicans, ponies, jack rabbits, sheepherders, an' pra'ry dogs, the
+last two bein' shorely imbecile.
+
+"Yes, son; you can lean up ag'inst the intelligence of a mule an' go
+to sleep. Not but what mules hasn't their illoosions, sech as white
+mares an' sim'lar reedie'lous inflooences; but them's weaknesses of
+the sperit rather than of mind.
+
+"While mules don't nacherally go scoutin' for loco, an' commonly
+avoids said weed when found, if they ever does taste it once, they
+never quits it as long as they lives. It's like whiskey to Huggins
+an' Old Monte; the appetite sort o' goes into camp with 'em an'
+takes possession. No; a locoed mule ain't vicious nor voylent; it's
+more like the tree-mors--he sees spectacles that ain't thar none.
+I've beheld a locoed mule that a-way, standin' alone on the level
+plains in the sun, kickin' an' pitchin' to beat a straight flush. he
+thinks he's surrounded by Injuns or other hostiles; he's that crazy
+he don't know grass from t'ran'lers. An' their mem'ry's wiped out;
+they forgets to eat an' starves to death. That's the way they dies,
+onless some party who gets worked up seein' 'em about, takes a
+Winchester an' pumps a bullet into 'em.
+
+"Yes, Peets says if a gent was to take to loadin' up on loco, or
+deecoctions tharof, he'd become afflicted by bats, same as cattle
+an' mules. But no one I knows of, so far as any news of it ever
+comes grazin' my way, is that ongyarded. I never hears tell in
+detail of sech a case but onct, an' that's a tale that Old Man
+Enright sets forth one evenin' in the Red Light.
+
+"We-all is settin' 'round the faro layout at the time. Cherokee Hall
+is back of the box, with Faro Nell on the look-out's stool, but
+nobody's feelin' playful, an' no money's bein' changed in. It's only
+about first drink time in the evenin', which, as a season, is
+prematoor for faro-bank. It's Dave Tutt who brings up the matter
+with some remarks he makes touchin' the crazy-hoss conduct of a
+party who works over to the stage company's corral. This hoss-
+hustler is that eccentric he's ediotic, an' is known as 'Locoed
+Charlie.' It's him who final falls a prey to ants that time.
+
+"'An' it's my belief,' asserts Tutt, as he concloodes his relations
+of the ranikaboo breaks of this party, 'that if this Charlie,
+speakin' mine fashion, was to take his intellects over to the assay
+office in Tucson, they wouldn't show half a ounce of idee to the
+ton; wouldn't even show a color. Which he's shore locoed.'
+
+"'Speakin' of being locoed that a-way,' says Enright, 'recalls an
+incident that takes place back when I'm a yearlin' an' assoomes my
+feeble part in the Mexican War. That's years ago, but I don't know
+of nothln' sadder than that story, nothin' more replete of sobs. Not
+that I weeps tharat, for I'm a thoughtless an' a callous yooth, but,
+all the same, it glooms me up a heap.'
+
+"'Is it a love story, Daddy Enright?' asks Faro Nell, all eager, an'
+bendin' towards Enright across the layout.
+
+"'It shows brands an' y'ear marks as sech, Nellie,' says Enright;
+'love an' loco makes up the heft of it.'
+
+"'Then tell it,' urges Faro Nell. 'I'm actooally hungerin' for a
+love story,' an' she reaches down an' squeezes Cherokee's hand onder
+the table.
+
+"Cherokee squeezes hers, an' turns his deal box on its side to show
+thar's no game goin', an' leans back with the rest of us to listen.
+Black Jack, who knows his mission on this earth, brings over a
+bottle with glasses all 'round.
+
+"'Yere's to you, Nellie,' says Texas Thompson, as we shoves the
+nose-paint about. 'While that divorce edict my wife wins back in
+Laredo modifies my interest in love tales, an' whereas I don't feel
+them thrills as was the habit of me onct, still, in a subdooed way I
+can drink happiness to you.'
+
+"'Texas,'says Boggs, settin' down his glass an' bendin' a eye full
+of indignant reproach on Thompson; 'Texas, before I'd give way to
+sech onmanly weakness, jest because my wife's done stampeded, I'd
+j'ine the church. Sech mush from a cow-man is disgraceful. You'll
+come down to herdin' sheep if you keeps on surrenderin' yourse'f to
+sech sloppy bluffs.'
+
+"'See yere, Dan,' retorts Thompson, an' his eye turns red on Bogs;
+'my feelin's may be bowed onder losses which sech nachers as yours
+is too coarse to feel, but you can gamble your bottom dollar, jest
+the same, I will still resent insultin' criticisms. I advises you to
+be careful an' get your chips down right when you addresses me, or
+you may quit loser on the deal.'
+
+"'Now you're a couple of fine three-year-olds! breaks in Jack Moore.
+'Yere we be, all onbuckled an'fraternal, an' Enright on the brink of
+a love romance by the ardent requests of Nell, an' you two longhorns
+has to come prancin' out an' go pawin' for trouble. You know mighty
+well, Texas, that Boggs is your friend an' the last gent to go
+harassin' you with contoomely.'
+
+"'Right you be, Jack,' says Boggs plenty prompt; 'if my remarks to
+Texas is abrupt, or betrays heat, it's doo to the fact that it
+exasperates me to see the most elevated gent in camp--for so I holds
+Texas Thompson to be--made desolate by the wild breaks of a lady who
+don't know her own mind, an' mighty likely ain't got no mind to
+know.'
+
+"'I reckons I'm wrong, Dan,' says Thompson, turnin' apol'getic. 'Let
+it all go to the diskyard. I'm that peevish I simply ain't fit to
+stay yere nor go anywhere else. I ain't been the same person since
+my wife runs cimmaron that time an' demands said sep'ration.'
+
+"'Bein' I'm a married man,' remarks Dave Tutt, sort o' gen'ral, but
+swellin' out his chest an' puttin' on a lot of dog at the same time,
+'an' wedded to Tucson Jennie, the same bein' more or less known, I
+declines all partic'pation in discussions touchin' the sex. I could,
+however, yoonite with you-all in another drink, an' yereby su'gests
+the salve. Barkeep, it's your play.' "'That's all right about
+another drink,' says Faro Nell, 'but I wants to state that I
+sympathizes with Texas in them wrongs. I has my views of a female
+who would up an' abandon a gent like Texas Thompson, an' I explains
+it only on the theery that she shorely must have been coppered in
+her cradle.'
+
+"'Nellie onderstands my feelin's,' says Texas, an' he's plumb
+mournful, 'an' I owes her for them utterances. However, on second
+thought, an' even if it is a love tale, if Enright will resoome his
+relations touchin' that eepisode of the Mexican War, I figgers that
+it may divert me from them divorce griefs I alloodes to. An', at any
+rate, win or lose, I assures Enright his efforts will be regyarded.'
+
+"Old Man Enright takes his seegyar out of his mouth an' rouses up a
+bit. He's been wropped in thought doorin' the argyments of Boggs an'
+Thompson, like he's tryin' to remember a far-off past. As Thompson
+makes his appeal, he braces up.
+
+"'Now that Dan an' Texas has ceased buckin',' says Enright, 'an'
+each has all four feet on the ground, I'll try an' recall them
+details. As I remarks, its towards the close of the Mexican War.
+Whatever I'm doin' in that carnage is a conundrum that's never been
+solved. I had hardly shed my milk teeth, an' was only 'leven hands
+high at the time. An' I ain't so strong physical, but I feels the
+weight of my spurs when I walks. As I looks back to it, I must have
+been about as valyooable an aid to the gov'ment, as the fifth kyard
+in a poker hand when four of a kind is held. The most partial an'
+besotted of critics would have conceded that if I'd been left out
+entire, that war couldn't have suffered material charges in its
+results. However, to get for'ard, for I sees that Nellie's patience
+begins to mill an' show symptoms of comin' stampede.
+
+"'It's at the close of hostil'ties,' goes on Enright, 'an' the
+company I'm with is layin' up in the hills about forty miles back
+from Vera Cruz, dodgin' yellow fever. We was cavalry, what the folks
+in Tennessee calls a "critter company," an', hailin' mostly from
+that meetropolis or its vicinity, we was known to ourse'fs at least
+as the "Pine Knot Cavaliers." Thar's a little Mexican village where
+we be that's called the "Plaza Perdita." An' so we lays thar at the
+Plaza Perdita, waitin' for orders an' transportation to take us back
+to the States.
+
+"'Which most likely we're planted at this village about a month, an'
+the Mexicans is beginnin' to get used to us, an' we on our parts is
+playin' monte, an' eatin' frijoles, an' accommodatin' ourse'fs to
+the simple life of the place. Onct a week the chaplain preaches to
+us. He holds that Mexico is a pagan land, an', entertainin' this
+idee, he certainly does make onusual efforts to keep our morals
+close-herded, an' our souls bunched an' banded up in the Christian
+faith, as expressed by the Baptis' church. Candor, however, compels
+me to say that this yere pulpit person can't be deescribed as a
+heavy winner on the play.' "'Was you-all so awful bad?' asks Faro
+Nell.
+
+"'No,' replies Enright, 'we ain't so bad none, but our conduct is a
+heap onhampered, which is the same thing to the chaplain. He gives
+it out emphatic, after bein' with the Pine Knot Cavaliers over a
+year, that he plumb despairs of us becomin' christians.'
+
+"'Whatever does he lay down on you-all like that for?' says Faro
+Nell. 'Couldn't a soldier be a christian, Daddy Enright?'
+
+"'Why, I reckons he might,' says Enright, he'pin' himse'f to a
+drink; 'a soldier could he a christian, Nellie, but after all it
+ain't necessary.
+
+"'Still, we-all likes the chaplain because them ministrations of his
+is entertainin', an', for that matter, he likes us a lot, an' in
+more reelaxed moments allows we ain't so plumb crim'nal--merely
+loose like on p'ints of doctrine.'
+
+"'Baptis' folks is shore strong on doctrines,' says Tutt, coincidin'
+in with Enright. 'I knows that myse'f. Doctrine is their long suit.
+They'll go to any len'ths for doctrines, you hear me! I remembers
+once ridin' into a hamlet back in the Kaintucky mountains. Thar
+ain't one hundred people in the village, corral count. An' yet I
+notes two church edifices.
+
+"You-all is plenty opulent on sanctooaries," I says to the barkeep
+at the tavern where I camps for the night. "It's surprisin', too,
+when you considers the size of the herd. What be the two
+deenom'nations that worships at them structures?"
+
+"'"Both Baptis'," says the barkeep.
+
+"'"Whyever, since they're ridin' the same range an' runnin' the same
+brand," I says, "don't they combine like cattle folks an' work their
+round-ups together?"
+
+"'"They splits on doctrine," says the barkeep; "you couldn't get 'em
+together with a gun. They disagrees on Adam. That outfit in the
+valley holds that Adam was all right when he started, but later he
+struck something an' glanced off; them up on the hill contends that
+Adam was a hoss-thief from the jump. An' thar you be! You couldn't
+reeconcile 'em between now an'the crack of doom. Doctrines to a
+Baptis' that a-way is the entire check-rack."
+
+"'To ag'in pick up said narratif,' says Enright, when Tutt subsides,
+'at the p'int where Dave comes spraddlin' in with them onasked
+reminiscences, I may say that a first source of pleasure to us, if
+not of profit, while we stays at the Plaza Perdita, is a passel of
+Mexicanos with a burro train that brings us our pulque from some'ers
+back further into the hills.'"
+
+"What's pulque?" I interjected.
+
+It was plain that my old gentleman of cows as little liked my
+interruption as Enright liked that of the volatile Tutt. He hid his
+irritation, however, under an iron politeness and explained.
+
+"Pulque is a disapp'intin' form of beverage, wharof it takes a bar'l
+to get a gent drunk," he observed. And then, with some severity: "It
+ain't for me to pull no gun of criticism, but I'm amazed that a
+party of your attainments, son, is ignorant of pulque. It's, as I
+says, a drink, an' it tastes like glucose an' looks like yeast. It
+comes from a plant, what the Mexicans calls 'maguey,' an' Peets
+calls a 'aloe.' The pulque gatherers scoops out the blossom of the
+maguey while it's a bud. They leaves the place hollow; what wood-
+choppers back in Tennessee, when I'm a colt, deescribes as
+'bucketin' the stump.' This yere hollow fills up with oozin' sap,
+an' the Mexican dips out two gallons a day an keeps it up for a
+month. That's straight, sixty gallons from one maguey before ever it
+quits an' refooses to further turn the game. That's pulque, an' when
+them Greasers gathers it, they puts it into a pigskin-skinned
+complete, the pig is; them pulduc receptacles is made of the entire
+bark of the anamile. When the pulque's inside, they packs it, back
+down an' hung by all four laigs to the saddle, a pigskin on each
+side of the burro. It's gathered the evenin' previous, an' brought
+into camp in the night so as to keep it cool.
+
+"When I'm a child, an' before ever I connects myse'f with the cow
+trade, if thar's a weddin', we-all has what the folks calls a
+'infare,' an' I can remember a old lady from the No'th who
+contreebutes to these yere festivals a drink she calls 'sprooce
+beer.' An' pulque, before it takes to frettin' an' fermentin'
+'round, in them pigskins, reminds me a mighty sight of that sprooce
+beer. Later it most likely reminds you of the pigskin.
+
+"Mexican barkeeps, when they sells pulque, aims to dispose of it two
+glasses at a clatter. It gives their conceit a chance to spread
+itse'f an' show. The pulque is in a tub down back of the bar. This
+yere vain Mexican seizes two glasses between his first an' second
+fingers, an' with a finger in each glass. Then he dips 'em full
+back-handed; an' allers comes up with the back of his hand an' the
+two fingers covered with pulque. He claps 'em on the bar, eyes you a
+heap sooperior like he's askin' you to note what a acc'rate, high-
+grade barkeep he is, an' then raisin' his hand, he slats the pulque
+off his fingers into the two glasses. If he spatters a drop on the
+bar, it shows he's a bungler, onfit for his high p'sition, an'
+oughter be out on the hills tendin' goats instead of dealin' pulque.
+
+"What do they do with the sour pulque? Make mescal of it--a sort o'
+brandy, two hookers of which changes you into a robber. No, thar's
+mighty few still-houses in Mexico. But that's no set-back to them
+Greasers when they're out to construct mescal. As a roole Mexicans
+is slow an oninventive; but when the question becomes the
+arrangement of somethin' to be drunk with, they're plenty fertile.
+Jest by the way of raw material, if you'll only confer on a Mexican
+a kettle, a rifle bar'l, a saddle cover, an' a pigskin full of sour
+pulque, he'll be conductin' a mescal still in full blast at the end
+of the first hour. But to go back to Enright's yarn.
+
+"'These yere pulque people,' says Enriglit, 'does a fa'rly rapid
+commerce. For while, as you-all may know, pulque is tame an' lacks
+in reebound as compared with nose-paint, still when pulque is the
+best thar is, the Pine Knot Cavaliers of the Plaza Perdita invests
+heavily tharin. That pulque's jest about a stand-off for the
+chaplain's sermons. "'It's the fourth trip of the pulque sellers,
+when the Donna Anna shows in the door. The Donna Anna arrives with
+'em; an' the way she bosses 'round, an' sets fire to them pulque
+slaves, notifies me they're the Donna Anna's peonies. "'I'm sort o'
+pervadin' about the plaza when the Donna Anna rides up. Thar's an
+old she-wolf with her whose name is Magdalena. I'm not myse'f what
+they calls in St. Looey a "connoshur" of female loveliness, an' it's
+a pity now that some gifted gent like Doc Peets yere don't see this
+Donna Anna that time, so's he could draw you her picture, verbal.
+All I'm able to state is that she's as beautiful as a cactus flower,
+an' as vivid. She's tall an' strong for a Mexican, with a voice like
+velvet, graceful as a mountain lion, an' with eyes that's soft an'
+deep an' black, like a deer's. She's shorely a lovely miracle, the
+Donna Anna is, an' as dark an' as warm an' as full of life as a
+night in Joone. She's of the grande, for the mule she's ridin',
+gent-fashion, is worth forty ponies. Its coat is soft, an' shiny
+like this yere watered silk, while its mane an' tail is braided with
+a hundred littler silver bells. The Donna Anna is dressed half
+Mexican an' half Injun, an' thar's likewise a row of bells about the
+wide brim of her Chihuahua hat.
+
+"'Thar's mebby a half-dozen of us standin' 'round when the Donna
+Anna comes up. Nacherally, we-all is interested. The Donna Anna,
+bein' only eighteen an' a Mexican, is not abashed. She waves her
+hand an' says, "How! how!" Injun fashion. an' gives us a white flash
+of teeth between her red lips. Then a band of nuns comes out of a
+little convent, which is one of the public improvements of the Plaza
+Perdita, an' they rounds up the Donna Anna an' the wrinkled
+Magdalena, an' takes 'em into camp. The Donna Anna an' the other is
+camped in the convent doorin' the visit. No, they're not locked up
+nor gyarded, an' the Donna Anna comes an' goes in an' out of that
+convent as free as birds. The nuns, too, bow before her like her own
+peonies.
+
+"'Thar's a Lootenant Jack Spencer with us; he hails from further up
+the Cumberland than me--some'ers near Nashville. He's light-ha'red
+an' light-hearted, Spencer is; an' as straight an' as strong as a
+pine-tree. S'ciety ain't throwin' out no skirmish lines them days,
+an' of course Spencer an' the Donna Anna meets up with each other;
+an' from the onbroken hours they tharafter proceeds to invest in
+each other's company, one is jestified in assoomin' they experiences
+a tender interest. The Donna Anna can't talk Americano, but Spencer
+is a sharp on Spanish; an' you can bet a pony, if he wasn't, he'd
+set to studyin' the language right thar.
+
+"'Nothin' much is thought by the Pine Knot Cavaliers of an'
+concernin' the attitoodes of Spencer an' the Donna Anna touchin' one
+another.
+
+Love it might be, an' less we cares for that. Our army, when it
+ain't fightin', is makin' love throughout the entire Mexican War;
+an' by the time we're at the Plaza Perdita, love, mere everyday
+love, either as a emotion or exhibition, is plenty commonplace. An'
+so no one is interested, an' no one keeps tabs on Spencer an' the
+Donna Anna.
+
+Which, if any one had, he'd most likely got ag'inst Spencer's gun;
+wharfore, it's as well mebby that this yere lack-luster feelin'
+prevails.
+
+"'It's about the tenth day sicice the Donna Anna gladdens us first.
+Orders comes up from Vera Cruz for the Pine Knot Cavaliers to come
+down to the coast an' embark for New Orleans. The word is passed,
+an' our little jimcrow camp buzzes like bees, with us gettin' ready
+to hit the trail. Spencer asks "leave;" an' then saddles up an'
+starts at once. He says he's got a trick or two to turn in Vera Cruz
+before we sails. That's the last we-all ever beholds of Lootenant
+Jack Spencer. "'When Spencer don't show up none in Vera Cruz, an'
+the ship throws loose without him, he's marked, "missin'," on the
+company's books. If he's a private, now, it would have been
+"deserted;" but bein' Spencer's an officer, they makes it "missin'."
+An' they gets it right, at that; Spencer is shorely missin'. Spencer
+not only don't come back to Tennessee none; he don't even send no
+word nor make so much as a signal smoke to let on whar he's at. This
+yere, to some, is more or less disapp'intin'. "'Thar's a lady back
+in Tennessee which Spencer's made overtures to. before he goes to
+war that time, to wed. Young she is; beautiful, high-grade, corn-
+fed, an' all that; an' comes of one of the most clean-bred fam'lies
+of the whole Cumberland country. I will interject right yere to say
+that thar's ladies of two sorts. If a loved one, tender an' troo,
+turns up missin' at roll-call, an' the phenomenon ain't accompanied
+with explanations, one sort thinks he's quit, an' the other thinks
+he's killed. Spencer's inamorata is of the former. She's got what
+the neighbors calls "hoss sense." She listens to what little thar is
+to tell of Spencer fadin' from our midst that Plaza Perdita day,
+shrugs her shoulders, an' turns her back on Spencer's mem'ry. An'
+the next news you gets is of how, inside of three months, she jumps
+some gent--who's off his gyard an' is lulled into feelin's of false
+secoority--ropes, throws, ties an' weds him a heap, an' he wakes up
+to find he's a gone fawn-skin, an' to realize his peril after he's
+onder its hoofs. That's what this Cumberland lady does. I makes no
+comments; I simply relates it an' opens a door an' lets her out.
+"'I'm back in Tennessee mighty nigh a year before ever I hears ag'in
+of Lootenant Jack Spencer of the Pine Knot Cavaliers. It's this a-
+way: I'm stoppin' with my old gent near Warwhoop Crossin', the same
+bein' a sister village to Pine Knot, when he's recalled to my boyish
+mind. It looks like Spencer ain't got no kin nearer than a aunt, an'
+mebby a stragglin' herd of cousins. He never does have no brothers
+nor sisters; an' as for fathers an' mothers an' sech, they all
+cashes in before ever Spencer stampedes off for skelps in that
+Mexican War at all. "'These yere kin of Spencer's stands his absence
+ca'mly, an' no one hears of their settin' up nights, or losin'
+sleep, wonderin' where he's at. Which I don't reckon now they'd felt
+the least cur'ous concernin' him--for they're as cold-blooded as
+channel catfish--if it ain't that Spencer's got what them law
+coyotes calls a "estate," an' this property sort o' presses their
+hands. So it falls out like, that along at the last of the year, a
+black-coat party-lawyer he is-comes breezin' up to me in Warwhoop
+an' says he's got to track this yere Spencer to his last camp, dead
+or alive, an' allows I'd better sign for the round-up an' accompany
+the expedition as guide, feclos'pher an' friend--kind o' go 'long
+an' scout for the campaign. "'Two months later me an' that law sharp
+is in the Plaza Perdita. We heads up for the padre. It's my view
+from the first dash outen the box that the short cut to find Spencer
+is to acc'rately discover the Donna Anna; so we makes a line for the
+padre. In Mexico, the priests is the only folks who saveys anythin';
+an', as if to make up for the hoomiliatin' ignorance of the balance
+of the herd, an' promote a average, these yere priests jest about
+knows everythin'. An' I has hopes of this partic'lar padre speshul;
+for I notes that, doorin' them times when Spencer an' the Donna Anna
+is dazzlin' one another at the Plaza Perdita, the padre is sort o'
+keepin' cases on the deal, an' tryin' as well as he can to hold the
+bars an' fences up through some covert steers he vouchsafes from
+time to time to the old Magdalena. "'No; you bet this padre don't at
+that time wax vocif'rous or p'inted none about Spencer an' the Donna
+Anna. Which he's afraid if he gets obnoxious that a-way, the Pine
+Knot Cavaliers will rope him up a lot an' trade him for beef. Shore
+don't you-all know that? When we're down in Mexico that time, with
+old Zach Taylor, an' needs meat, we don't go ridin' our mounts to
+death combin' the hills for steers. All we does is round up a band
+of padres, or monks, an' then trade 'em to their par'lyzed
+congregations for cattle. We used to get about ten steers for a
+padre; an' we doles out them divines, one at a time, as we needs the
+beef. It's shorely a affectin' sight to see them parish'ners, with
+tears runnin' down their faces, drivin' up the cattle an' takin'
+them religious directors of theirs out o' hock.
+
+"'We finds the padre out back of his wickeyup, trimmin' up a game-
+cock that he's matched to fight the next day. The padre is little,
+fat, round, an' amiable as owls. Nacherally, I has to translate for
+him an' the law sport.
+
+"'"You do well to come to me, my children," he says. "The Senor
+Juan"--that's what the padre calls Spencer--"the Senor Juan is dead.
+It is ten days since he passed. The Donna Anna? She also is dead an'
+with the Senor Juan. We must go to the Hacienda Tulorosa, which is
+the house of the Donna Anna. That will be to-morrow. Meanwhile, who
+is to protect Juarez, my beloved chicken, in his battle when I will
+be away? Ah! I remember! The Don Jose Miguel will do. He is skilful
+of cocks of the game. Also he has bet money on Juarez; so he will be
+faithful. Therefore, to-morrow, my children, we will go to the Donna
+Anna's house. There I will tell you the story of the Senor Juan."
+
+"'The Hacienda Tulorosa is twenty miles back further in the hills.
+The padre, the law sharp an' me is started before sun-up, an' a good
+road-gait fetches us to the Hacienda Tulorosa in a couple of hours.
+It's the sort of a ranch which a high grade Mexican with a strong
+bank-roll would throw up. It's built all 'round a court, with a
+flower garden and a fountain in the centre. As we comes up, I
+observes the old Magdalena projectin' about the main door of the
+casa, stirrin' up some lazy peonies to their daily toil--which, to
+use the word "toil," however, in connection with a Greaser, is plumb
+sarcastic. The padre leads us into the cases, an' the bitter-lookin'
+Magdalena hustles us some grub; after which we-all smokes a bit.
+Then the padre gets up an' leads the way.
+
+"'"Come, my children," says the padre, "I will show you the graves.
+Then you shall hear what there is of the Senor Juan an' the Donna
+Anna."
+
+"'It's a set-back,' continyoos Enright, as he signals Black Jack the
+barkeep to show us he's awake; 'it's shorely a disaster that some
+book-instructed gent like Peets or Colonel Sterett don't hear this
+padre when he makes them revelations that day. Not that I overlooks
+a bet, or don't recall 'em none; but I ain't upholstered with them
+elegancies of diction needed to do 'em justice now. My language is
+roode an' corrupted with years of sech surroundin's as cattle an'
+kyards. It's too deeply freighted with the slang of the plains an'
+the faro-banks to lay forth a tale of love an' tenderness, as the
+o'casion demands. Of course, I can read an' write common week-day
+print; but when thar's a call for more, I'm mighty near as
+illit'rate that a-way as Boggs.'
+
+"'Which, as you su'gests, I'm plumb ignorant,' admits Boggs, 'but it
+ain't the fault none of my bringin' up neither. It jest looks like I
+never can learn print nohow when I'm young. I'm simply born book-
+shy, an' is terrified at schools from my cradle. An', say! I'm yere
+to express my regrets at them weaknesses. If I was a eddicated gent
+like Doc Peets is, you can put down all you has, I'd be the
+cunnin'est wolf that ever yelps in Cochise County.'
+
+"'An' thar ain't no doubt of that, Boggs,' observes Enright, as he
+reorganizes to go ahead with them Donna Anna mem'ries of his. 'Which
+if you only has a half of Peets' game now, you'd be the hardest
+thing--mental--to ride that ever invades the Southwest. Nacherally,
+an' in a wild an' ontrained way, you're wise. But to rcsoome: As
+much as I can, I'll give the padre in his own words. He takes us out
+onder a huddle of pine trees, where thar's two graves side by side,
+an' with a big cross of wood standin' gyard at the head. Thar's
+quite a heap o' rocks, about as big as your shet hand, heaped up on
+'em. It's the Mexicans does that. Every Greaser who goes by, says a
+pray'r, an' tosses a rock on the grave. When we-all is camped
+comfortable, the padre begins.
+
+"'"This is that which was with the Senor Juan and the Donna Anna,"
+he says. "They adored each other with their hearts. It was many
+months ago when, from the Plaza Perdita, they came together here to
+the Donna Anna's house, the Hacienda Tulorosa. Who was the Donna
+Anna? Her mother was an Indian, a Navajo, and the child of a head
+man. Her father was the Senor Ravel, a captain of war he was, and
+the Americanos slew him at Buena Vista. No; they were not married,
+the father and the mother of the Donna Anna. But what then? There
+are more children than weddings in Mexico. Also the mother of the
+Donna Anna was a Navajo. The Captain Ravel long ago brought her to
+the Hacienda Tulorosa for her home--her and the Donna Anna. But the
+mother lived not long, for the Indian dies in a house. This is years
+gone by; and the Donna Anna always lived at the Casa Tulorosa. "'No;
+the Senor Juan and the Donna Anna do not marry. They might; but the
+Senor Juan became like a little child-muchachito. This was within a
+few days after he came here. Then he lived until ten days ago; but
+always a little child. "'When the Senor Juan is dead, the Donna Anna
+sends for me. The Seuor Juan is ready for the grave when I arrive.'
+Is it to bury him that I come?' I ask. 'No; it is to bury me,' says
+the Donna Anna. Ah! she was very beautiful! the Donna Anna. You
+should have seen her, my children. "'When the Senor Juan is laid
+away, the Donna Anna tells me all. 'He came, the Senor Juan,' says
+the Donna Anna, 'and I gave him all my love. But in a day he was to
+have gone to his home far away with the Americanos. Then I would
+never more see him nor hear him, and my soul would starve and die.
+There, too, was a Senorita, an Americana; she would have my place.
+Father, what could I do? I gave him the loco to drink; not much, but
+it was enough. Then his memory sank and sank; and he forgot the
+Senorita Americana; and he remembered not to go away to his home;
+and he became like a little child with me. The good loco drove every
+one from his heart; and all from his mind-all, save me, the Donna
+Anna. I was the earth and the life to him. And so, night and day,
+since he came until now he dies, my arms and my heart have been
+about the Senor Juan. And I have been very, very happy with my
+muchachito, the Senor Juan. Yes, I knew he would go; because none
+may live who drinks the loco. But it would be months; and I did not
+care. He would be mine, ever my own, the Senor Juan; for when he
+died, could I not die and follow him? We were happy these months
+with the flowers and the fountain and each other. I was happier than
+he; for I was like the mother, and he like a little child. But it
+was much peace with love! And we will be happy again to-morrow when
+I go where he waits to meet me. Father, you are to remain one day,
+and see that I am buried with the Senior Juan.' "Then," goes on the
+padre, "I say to the Donna Anna, 'If you are to seek the Senor Juan,
+you will first kneel in prayer and in confession, and have the
+parting rites of the church.' But the Donna Anna would not. 'I will
+go as went the Senor Juan,' she says; 'else I may find another
+heaven and we may not meet.' Nor could I move the Donna Anna from
+her resolution. 'The Senor Juan is a heretic and must now be in
+perdition,' I say. 'Then will I, too, go there,' replies the Donna
+Anna, 'for we must be together; I and the Senor Juan. He is mine and
+I will not give him up to be alone with the fiends or with the
+angels.' So I say no more to the Donna Anna of the church.
+
+"'" On the day to follow the burial of the Senor Juan, it is in the
+afternoon when the Donna Anna comes to me. Oh! she was twice lovely!
+'Father,' she says, 'I come to say my adios. When the hour is done
+you will seek me by the grave of my Senor Juan.' Then she turns to
+go. 'And adios to you, my daughter,' I say, as she departs from my
+view. And so I smoke my cigars; and when the hour is done, I go also
+to the grave of the Senor Juan--the new grave, just made, with its
+low hill of warm, fresh earth.
+
+"'" True! it was as you guess. There, with her face on that little
+round of heaped-up earth, lay the Donna Anna. And all the blood of
+her heart had made red the grave of her Senor Juan. The little knife
+she died by was still in her hand. No, I do not fear for them, my
+children. They are with the good; the Donna Anna and her Senor Juan.
+They were guiltless of all save love; and the good God does not
+punish love."'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+How Jack Rainey Quit.
+
+
+"Customary, we has our social round-ups in the
+Red Light," observed the Old Cattleman; "which I mentions once it
+does us for a club. We're all garnered into said fold that time when
+Dave Tutt tells us how this yere Jack Rainey quits out. "'Rainey
+gets downed,' says Tutt, 'mainly because his system's obscoore, an'
+it chances that a stranger who finds himse'f unmeshed tharin takes
+it plumb ombrageous; an' pendin' explanations, gets tangled up with
+a pard of Rainey's, goes to a gun play, an' all accidental an'
+casooal Rainey wings his way to them regions of the blest. "'Now I
+allers holds,' goes on Tutt, 'an' still swings an' rattles with that
+decision, that it's manners to ask strangers to drink; an' that no
+gent, onless he's a sky-pilot or possesses scrooples otherwise, has
+a right to refoose. Much less has a gent, bein' thus s'licited to
+licker, any license to take it hostile an' allow he's insulted, an'
+lay for his entertainers with weepons.' "'Well, I don't know,
+neither,' says Texas Thompson, who's a heap dispootatious an' allers
+spraddlin' in on every chance for an argyment. 'Thar's a party, now
+deceased a whole lot--the Stranblers over in Socorro sort o'
+chaperones this yere gent to a cottonwood an' excloodes the air from
+his lungs with a lariat for mebby it's an hour-an' this party I'm
+alloodin' at, which his name is Fowler, is plumb murderous. Now,
+it's frequent with him when he's selected a victim that a-way, an'
+while he's bickerin' with him up to the killin' p'int, to invite
+said sacrifice to take a drink. When they're ag'inst the bar, this
+yere Fowler we-all strangles would pour out a glass of whiskey an'
+chuck it in the eyes of that onfortunate he's out to down. Of
+course, while this party's blind with the nose-paint, he's easy; an'
+Fowler tharupon e'llects his skelp in manner, form an' time to suit
+his tastes. Now I takes it that manners don't insist none on no gent
+frontin' up to a bar on the invite of sech felons as Fowler, when a
+drink that a-way means a speshul short-cut to the tomb.' "'All this
+yere may be troo,' replies Tutt, 'but it's a exception. What I
+insists is, Texas, that speakin' wide an' free an' not allowin' none
+for sports of the Fowler brand, it's manners to ask strangers to
+stand in on what beverages is goin'; that it's likewise manners for
+said strangers to accept; an' it shows that both sides concerned
+tharin is well brought up by their folks. Sech p'liteness is
+manners, goin' an' comin', which brings me with graceful swoops back
+to how Jack Rainey gets shot up.' "'But, after all,' breaks in Texas
+ag'in, for he feels wranglesome, 'manners is frequent a question of
+where you be. What's manners in St. Looey may be bad jedgment in
+Texas; same as some commoonities plays straights in poker, while
+thar's regions where straights is barred.'
+
+"'Texas is dead right about his State that a-way,' says Jack Moore,
+who's heedin' of the talk. 'Manners is a heap more inex'rable in
+Texas than other places. I recalls how I'm galivantin' 'round in the
+Panhandle country--it's years ago when I'm young an' recent--an' as
+I'm ridin' along south of the Canadian one day, I discerns a pony
+an' a gent an' a fire', an' what looks like a yearlin' calf tied
+down. I knows the pony for Lem Woodruff's cayouse, an' heads over to
+say "Howdy" to Lem. He's about half a mile away; when of a sudden he
+stands up--he's been bendin' over the yearlin' with a runnin' iron
+in his hand--an' gives a whoop an' makes some copious references
+towards me with his hands. I wonders what for a game he's puttin'
+up, an' whatever is all this yere sign-language likely to mean; but
+I keeps ridin' for'ard. It's then this Woodruff steps over to his
+pony, an' takin' his Winchester off the saddle, cuts down with it in
+my direction, an' onhooks her--"Bang!" The bullet raises the dust
+over about fifty yards to the right. Nacherally I pulls up my pony
+to consider this conduct. While I'm settin' thar tryin' to figger
+out Woodruff's system, thar goes that Winchester ag'in, an' a streak
+of dust lifts up, say, fifty yards to the left. I then sees Lem
+objects to me. I don't like no gent to go carpin' an' criticisin' at
+me with a gun; but havin' a Winchester that a-way, this yere
+Woodruff can overplay me with only a six-shooter, so I quits him an'
+rides contemptuous away. As I withdraws, he hangs his rifle on his
+saddle ag'in, picks up his runnin' iron all' goes back content an'
+all serene to his maverick.'" "What is a maverick?" I asked,
+interrupting my friend in the flow of his narration. "Why, I
+s'posed," he remarked, a bit testily at being halted, "as how even
+shorthorns an' tenderfeet knows what mavericks is. Mavericks, son,
+is calves which gets sep'rated from the old cows, their mothers, an'
+ain't been branded none yet. They're bets which the round-ups
+overlooks, an' don't get marked. Of course, when they drifts from
+their mothers, each calf for himse'f, an' no brands nor y'ear marks,
+no one can tell whose calves they be. They ain't branded, au' the
+old cows ain't thar to identify au' endorse 'em, an' thar you stands
+in ignorance. Them's mavericks. "It all comes," he continued in
+further elucidation of mavericks, "when cattle brands is first
+invented in Texas. The owners, whose cattle is all mixed up on the
+ranges, calls a meetin' to decide on brands, so each gent'll know
+his own when he crosses up with it, an' won't get to burnin' powder
+with his neighbors over a steer which breeds an' fosters doubts.
+After every party announces what his brand an' y'ear mark will be,
+all' the same is put down in the book, a old longhorn named Maverick
+addresses the meetin', an' puts it up if so be thar's no objection,
+now they all has brands but him, he'll let his cattle lope without
+markin', an' every gent'll savey said Maverick's cattle because they
+won't have no brand. Cattle without brands, that a-way, is to belong
+to Maverick, that's the scheme, an' as no one sees no reason why
+not, they lets old Maverick's proposal go as it lays.
+
+"An' to cut her short, for obv'ous reasons, it ain't no time before
+Maverick, claimin' all the onbranded cattle, has herds on herds of
+'em; whereas thar's good authority which states that when he makes
+his bluff about not havin' no brand that time, all the cattle old
+Maverick has is a triflin' bunch of Mexican steers an' no semblances
+of cows in his outfit. From which onpromisin', not to say barren,
+beginnin', Maverick owns thousands of cattle at the end of ten
+years. It all provokes a heap of merriment an' scorn. An' ever since
+that day, onmarked an' onbranded cattle is called 'mavericks.' But
+to go back ag'in to what Jack Moore is remarkin' about this yere
+outlaw, Woodruff, who's been bustin' away towards Jack with his
+Winchester.
+
+"'It's a week later,' goes on Jack Moore, 'when I encounters this
+sport Woodruff in Howard's store over in Tascosa. I stands him up
+an' asks whatever he's shootin' me up for that day near the Serrita
+la Cruz.
+
+"'" Which I never sees you nohow," replies this yere Woodruff.
+laughin'. "I never cuts down on you with no Winchester, for if I
+did, I'd got you a whole lot. You bein' yere all petulant an'
+irritated is mighty good proof I never is shootin' none at you, But
+bein' you're new to the Canadian country an' to Texas, let me give
+you a few p'inters on cow ettyquette an' range manners. Whenever you
+notes a gent afar off with a fire goin' an' a yearlin' throwed an'
+hawg-tied ready to mark up a heap with his own private
+hieroglyphics, don't you-all go pesterin' 'round him. He ain't good
+company, sech a gent ain't. Don't go near him. It's ag'in the law in
+Texas to brand calves lonely an' forlorn that a-way, without
+stoppin' to herd 'em over to some well-known corral, an' the
+punishment it threatens, bein' several years in Huntsville, makes a
+gent when he's violatin' it a heap misanthropic, an' he don't hunger
+none for folks to come ridin' up to see about whatever he reckons
+he's at. Mebby later them visitors gets roped up before a co't, or
+jury, to tell whatever they may know. So, as I says, an' merely
+statin' a great trooth in Texas ettyquette, yereafter on beholdin' a
+fellow-bein' with a calf laid out to mark, don't go near him a
+little bit. It's manners to turn your back onto him an' ignore him
+plumb severe. He's a crim'nal, an' any se'f-respectin' gent is
+jestified in refoosin' to affiliate with him. Wherefore, you ride
+away from every outcast you tracks up ag'inst who is engaged like
+you says this onknown party is the day he fetches loose his
+Winchester at you over by the Serrita la Cruz."
+
+"That's what this Woodruff says," concloodes Jack, windin' up his
+interruption, "about what's manners in Texas; an' when it's made
+explicit that away, I sees the force of his p'sition. Woodruff an'
+me buys nose-paint for each other, shakes hearty, an' drops the
+discussion. But it shorely comes to this: manners, as Texas
+declar's, is sometimes born of geography, an' what goes for polish
+an' the p'lite play in St. Looey may not do none for Texas.'
+"'Mighty likely,' says Old Man Enright, 'what Texas Thompson an'
+Jack Moore interjecks yere is dead c'rrect; but after all this
+question about what's manners is 'way to one side of the main trail.
+I tharfore su'gests at this crisis that Black Jack do his best with
+a bottle, an' when every gent has got his p'ison, Dave Tutt proceeds
+for'ard with the killin' of this Jack Rainey.' "'Goin' on as to said
+Rainey,' observes Tutt, followin' them remarks of Enright, 'as I
+explains when Texas an' Moore runs me down with them interestin'
+outbreaks, Rainey gets ag'inst it over in a jimcrow camp called
+Lido; an' this yere is a long spell ago. "'Rainey turns in an'
+charters every bar in Lido, an' gets his brand onto all the nose-
+paint. He's out to give the camp an orgy, an' not a gent can spend a
+splinter or lose a chip to any bar for a week. Them's Jack Rainey's
+commands. A sport orders his forty drops, an' the barkeep pricks it
+onto a tab; at the end of a week Jack Rainey settles all along the
+line, an' the "saturnalia," as historians calls 'em, is over. I
+might add that Jack Rainey gives way to these yere charities once a
+year, an the camp of Lido is plumb used tharto an' approves tharof.
+
+"'On this sad o'casion when Jack Rainey gets killed, this yore
+excellent custom he invents is in full swing. Thar's notices printed
+plenty big, an' posted up in every drink-shop from the dance hall to
+the Sunflower saloon; which they reads as follows RUIN! RUIN! RUIN!
+ CUT LOOSE!
+ JACK RAINEY MAKES GOOD
+ ALL DRINKS
+ FOR
+ ONE WEEK. NAME YOUR POISON!
+ "'At this yere time, it's about half through Jack Rainey's week,
+an' the pop'lace of Lido, in consequence, is plumb happy an'
+content. They're holdin' co't at the time; the same bein' the first
+jestice, legal, which is dealt out in Lido.'
+
+"'An' do you--all know,' puts in Dan Boggs, who's listenin' to Tutt,
+'I'm mighty distrustful of co'ts. You go to holdin' of 'em, an' it
+looks like everybody gets wrought up to frenzy ontil life where them
+forums is held ain't safe for a second. I shall shorely deplore the
+day when a co't goes to openin' its game in Wolfville. It's "adios"
+to liberty an' peace an' safety from that time.'
+
+"'You can go a yellow stack,' remarks Texas Thompson, who sets than
+plumb loquacious an' locoed to get in a speech, 'that Boggs sizes up
+right about them triboonals. They'rc a disturbin' element in any
+commoonity. I knowed a town in Texas which is that peaceful it's
+pastoral--that's what it is, it's like a sheep-fold, it's so mcck
+an' easy--ontil one day they ups an' plays a co't an' jedge an' jury
+on that camp; rings in a herd of law sharps, an' a passel of rangers
+with Winchesters to back the deal. The town's that fretted tharat it
+gets full of nose-paint to the brim, an' then hops into the street
+for gen'ral practice with its guns. In the mornin' the round-up
+shows two dead an' five wounded, an' all for openin' co't on an
+outfit which is too frail to stand the strain of so much justice to
+stand onexpected.' "'As I'm engaged in remarkin',' says Tutt, after
+Boggs an' Texas is redooced to quiet ag'in--Tutt bein' married most
+likely is used to interruptions, an' is shore patient that a-way--
+'as I states, they're holdin' co't, an' this day they emancipates
+from prison a party named Caribou Sam. They tries to prove this
+Caribou Sam is a hoss-thief, but couldn't fill on the draw, an' so
+Caribou works free of 'em an' is what they calls "'quitted."
+
+"'As soon as ever the marshal takes the hobbles off this Caribou
+Sam--he's been held a captif off some'ers an' is packed into Lido
+onder gyard to be tried a lot--this yore malefactor comes bulgin'
+into the Sunflower an' declar's for fire-water. The barkeep deals to
+him, an' Caribou Sam is assuaged.
+
+"'When he goes to pay, a gent who's standin' near shoves back his
+dust, an' says: "This is Jack Rainey's week--it's the great annyooal
+festival of Jack Rainey, an' your money's no good."
+
+"'"But I aims to drink some more poco tiempo," says this Caribou
+Sam, who is new to Lido, an' never yet hears of Jack Rainey an' his
+little game, "an' before I permits a gent to subsidize my thirst,
+an' go stackin' in for my base appetites, you can gamble I want to
+meet him an' make his acquaintance. Where is this yere sport Jack
+Rainey, an' whatever is he doin' this on?"
+
+"'The party who shoves Caribou's dinero off the bar, tells him he
+can't pay, an' explains the play, an' exhorts him to drink free an'
+frequent an' keep his chips in his war-bags.
+
+"'"As I tells you," says this party to Caribou, "my friend Jack
+Rainey has treed the camp, an' no money goes yere but his till his
+further commands is known. Fill your hide, but don't flourish no
+funds, or go enlargin' on any weakness you has for buyin' your own
+licker. As for seein' Jack Rainey, it's plumb impossible. He's got
+too full to visit folks or be visited by 'em; but he's upsta'rs on
+some blankets, an' if his reason is restored by tomorry, you sends
+up your kyard an' pays him your regyards--pendin' of which social
+function, take another drink. Barkeep, pump another dose into this
+stranger, an' charge the same to Jack."
+
+"'"This yere sounds good," says Caribou Sam, "but it don't win over
+me. Ontil I sees this person Rainey, I shall shorely decline all
+bottles which is presented in his name. I've had a close call about
+a bronco I stole to-day, an' when the jury makes a verdict that
+they're sorry to say the evidence ain't enough to convict, the jedge
+warns me to be a heap careful of the company I maintains. He exhorts
+me to live down my past, or failin' which he'll hang me yet. With
+this bluff from the bench ringin' in my years, I shall refoose
+drinks with all onknown sots, ontil I sees for myse'f they's proper
+characters for me to be sociable with. Tharfore, barkeep, I renoo my
+determination to pay for them drinks; at the same tune, I orders
+another round. Do you turn for me or no?" "'"Not none you don't,"
+says the friend of Jack Rainey. "You can drink, but you can't pay--
+leastwise, you-all can't pay without gettin' all sort o' action on
+your money. This Rainey you're worried about is as good a gent as
+me, an' not at all likely to shake the standin' of a common hoss-
+thief by merely buyin' his nose-paint."
+
+"'"Mine is shorely a difficult p'sition," says Caribou Sam. "What
+you imparts is scarce encouragin.' If this yere Rainey ain't no
+improvement onto you, I absolootely weakens on him an' turns aside
+from all relations of his proposin'. I'm in mighty bad report as the
+game stands, an' I tharfore insists ag'in on payin' for my own war
+medicine, as bein' a move necessary to protect my attitoodes before
+the public."
+
+With thesc yere observations, Caribou Sam makes a bluff at the
+barkeep with a handful of money. In remonstratin', Jack Rainey's
+pard nacherally pulls a gun, as likewise does Caribou Sam. Thar's
+the customary quantity of shootin', an' while neither Caribou nor
+his foe gets drilled, a bullet goes through the ceilin' an' sort o'
+sa'nters in a careless, indifferent way into pore Jack Rainey, where
+he's bedded down an' snorin' up above.
+
+"'Shore, he's dead, Rainey is,' concloodes Dave, 'an' his ontimely
+takin' off makes Lido quit loser for three days of licker free as
+air. He's a splendid, gen'rous soul, Jack Rainey is; an' as I says
+at the beginnin', he falls a sacrifice to his love for others, an'
+in tryin' at his own expense to promote the happiness an' lift them
+burdens of his fellow-men.'
+
+"'This yere miscreant, Caribou,' says Texas Thompson, 'is a mighty
+sight too punctilious about them drinks; which thar's no doubt of
+it. Do they lynch him?'
+
+"'No,' says Tutt; 'from the calibre of the gun which fires the lead
+that snatches Rainey from us, it is cl'ar that it's the gent who's
+contendin' with Caribou who does it, Still public opinion is some
+sour over losin' them three days, an' so Caribou goes lopin' out of
+Lido surreptitious that same evenin', an' don't wait none on
+Rainey's obsequies. Caribou merely sends regrets by the barkeep of
+the Sunflower, reiterates the right to pay for them drink, an' Lido
+sees him no more.'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+The Defiance of Gene Watkins.
+
+
+"Be I religious that a-way?" More to embark him on some current of
+conversation than from any gnawing eagerness to discover his creed,
+I had aimed the question at my Old Cattleman.
+
+"No," he continued, declining a proffered cigar, "I'll smoke my old
+pipe to-night. Be I religious? says you. Well, I ain't shorely
+livin' in what you'd call 'grace,' still I has my beliefs. Back in
+Tennessee my folks is Methodis', held to sprinklin' an' sech;
+however, for myse'f, I never banks none on them technicalities. It's
+deeds that counts with Omnipotence, same as with a vig'lance
+committee; an', whether a gent is sprinkled or dipped or is as
+averse to water as Huggins or Old Monte, won't settle whether he
+wins out a harp or a hot pitchfork in the eternal beyond.
+
+"No, I ain't a believer in that enthoosiastic sense that fights its
+way to the mourner's bench an' manifests itse'f with groans that
+daunts hoot-owls into silence. Thar don't appear many preachers out
+West in my day. Now an' then one of these yere divines, who's got
+strayed or drifted from his proper range, comes buttin' his way into
+Wolfville an' puts us up a sermon, or a talkee-talkee. In sech
+events we allers listens respcetful, an' when the contreebution box
+shows down, we stakes 'em on their windin' way; but it's all as much
+for the name of the camp as any belief in them ministrations doin'
+local good. Shore! these yere sky-scouts is all right at that. But
+Wolfville's a hard, practical outfit, what you might call a heap
+obdurate, an' it's goin' to take more than them fitful an'
+o'casional sermons I alloodes to, a hour long an' more'n three
+months apart on a av'rage, to reach the roots of its soul. When I
+looks back on Peets an' Enright, an' Boggs an' Tutt, an' Texas
+Thompson an' Moore, an' Cherokee, to say nothin' of Colonel Sterett,
+an' recalls their nacheral obstinacy, an' the cheerful conceit
+wherewith they adheres to their systems of existence, I realizes
+that them ordinary, every-day pulpit utterances of the sort that
+saves an' satisfies the East, would have about as much ser'ous
+effect on them cimmaron pards of mine as throwin' water on a drowned
+rat. Which they lives irreg'lar, an' they're doo to die irreg'lar,
+an' if they can't be admitted to the promised land irreg'lar,
+they're shore destined to pitch camp outside. An' inasmuch as I
+onderstands them aforetime comrades of mine, an' saveys an' esteems
+their ways, why, I reckons I'll string my game with theirs a whole
+lot, an' get in or get barred with Wolfville.
+
+"No; I've no notion at all ag'inst a gospel spreader. When Short
+Creek Dave gets religion over in Tucson, an' descends on us as a
+exhorter, although I only knows Short Creek thartofore as the
+coldest poker sharp that ever catches a gent Muffin' on a 4-flush, I
+hesitates not, but encourages an' caps his game. But I can't say
+that the sight of a preacher-gent affords me peace. A preacher frets
+me; not for himse'f exactly, but you never sees preachers without
+seein' p'lice folks--preachers an' p'lice go hand in hand, like
+prairie dogs an' rattlesnakes--an' born as I be in Tennessee, where
+we has our feuds an' where law is a interference an' never a
+protection, I'm nacherally loathin' constables complete.
+
+"But if I ain't religious," he rambled on while he puffed at his
+Bull Durham vigorously. "you can resk a small stack that neither I
+ain't sooperstitious. Take Boggs an' Cherokee, you-all recalls how
+long ago I tells you how sooperstitious them two is. Speakin' of
+Boggs, who's as good a gent an' as troo a friend as ever touches
+your glass; he's sooperstitious from his wrought-steel spurs to his
+bullion hatband. Boggs has more signs an' omens than some folks has
+money; everything is a tip or a hunch to Boggs; an' he lives
+surrounded by inflooences.
+
+"Thar's a peaked old sport named Ryder pervades Wolfville for a
+while. He's surly an' gnurlly an' omeny, Ryder is; an' has one of
+them awful lookin' faces where the feachers is all c'llected in the
+middle of his visage, an' bunched up like they's afraid of Injuns or
+somethin' else that threatenin' an' hostile--them sort of
+countenances you notes carved on the far ends of fiddles. We-all is
+averse to Ryder. An' this yere Ryder himsc'f is that contentious an'
+contradictory he won't agree to nothin'. Jest to show you about
+Ryder: I has in mind once when a passel of us is lookin' at a paper
+that's come floatin' in from the States. Thar's the picture of a
+cow-puncher into it who's a dead ringer for Dave Tutt. From y'ears
+to hocks that picture is Tutt; an' thar we-all be admirin' the
+likeness an' takin' our licker conjunctive. While thus spec'latin'
+on then resemblances, this yere sour old maverick, Ryder, shows up
+at the bar for nourishment.
+
+"'Don't tell Ryder about how this yere deelineation looks like
+Tutt,' Says Doc Peets; 'I'll saw it off on him raw for his views,
+and ask him whatever does he think himse'f.
+
+"'See yere, Ryder,' says Peets, shovin' the paper onder the old
+t'rant'ler's nose as he sets down his glass, 'whoever does this
+picture put you in mind of? Does it look like any sport you knows?'
+
+"'No,' says Ryder, takin' the paper an' puttin' on his specks, an'
+at the same time as thankless after his nose-paint as if he'd been
+refoosed the beverage; 'no, it don't put me in mind of nothin' nor
+nobody. One thing shore, an' you-all hold-ups can rope onto that for
+a fact, it don't remind me none of Dave Tutt.'
+
+"Which Boggs, who, as I says, is allers herdin' ghosts, is
+sooperstitious about old Ryder. That's straight; Boggs won't put
+down a bet while this Ryder person's in sight. I've beheld Boggs,
+jest as he's got his chips placed, look up an' c'llect a glimpse of
+them fiddle-feachers of Ryder.
+
+"'Whoop!' says Boggs to Cherokee, who would be behind the box, an'
+spreadin' his hands in reemonstrance; 'nothin' goes!' An' then Boggs
+would glare at this Ryder party ontil he'd fade from the room.
+
+"He's timid of Boggs, too, this yere Ryder is; an' as much as ever
+it's this horror of Boggs which prevails on him to shift his
+blankets to Red Dog---the same bein' a low-down plaza inhabited by
+drunkards an' Mexicans, in proportions about a even break of each,
+an' which assoomes in its delirium treecnors way to be a rival of
+Wolfville.
+
+"'Which I'm a public benefactor,' says Boggs, when he's informed
+that he's done froze this Ryder out of camp, 'an' if you sports
+a'preciates me at my troo valyoo, you-all would proffer me some sech
+memento inebby as a silver tea-set. Me makin' this Ryder vamos is
+the greatest public improvement Wolfville's experienced since the
+lynchin' of Far Creek Stanton. You-all ain't s'fficiently on the
+quee vee, as they says in French, to be aware of the m'lignant
+atmospheres of this yere Ryder. He'd hoodoo a hill, or a pine-tree,
+Ryder would, let alone anythin' as onstable as my methods of buckin'
+faro-bank. Gone to Red Dog, has he? Bueno! He leaves us an' attaches
+himse'f to our enemies. I'll bet a pinto hoss that somethin' happens
+to them Red Dog tarrapins inside of a week.'
+
+"An', son, while said riotous prophecies of Boggs don't impress me a
+little bit, I'm bound to admit that the second night followin' the
+heegira of this yere Ryder, an' his advent that a-way into Red Dog,
+a outcast from the Floridas, who goes locoed as the frootes of a
+week of Red Dog gayety, sets fire to the sityooation while shootin'
+out the dance-hall lamps, an' burns up half Red Dog, with the dance
+hall an' the only two s'loons in the outfit; tharby incloodin' every
+drop of whiskey in the holycaust. It was awful! Which, of coarse, we
+comes to the rescoo. Red Dog's our foe; but thar be c'lamities, son,
+which leaves no room in the hooman heart for anythin' but pity. An'
+this is one. Wolfville rolls out the needed nose-paint for Red Dog,
+desolated as I says, an' holds the fraternal glass to the Red Dog
+lips till its freighters brings relief from Tucson. "All the same,
+while as I assures you thar's nothin' sooperstitious about me, I
+can't he'p, when Red Dog burns that a-way, but think of them bluffs
+of Boggs about this yere old Ryder party bein' a hoodoo. Shore! it
+confirms Boggs in them weaknesses. An' he even waxes puffed up an'
+puts on dog about it; an' if ever thar's a dispoote about one of his
+omens--an' thar's a lot from time to time, because Boggs is plumb
+reedic'lous as to 'em--he ups an' staggers the camp by demandin',
+'Don't I call the turn that time when Ryder goes retreatin' over to
+Red Dog? If I don't, I'll turn Chink an' open a laundry.'
+
+"Speakin' of omens, of course thar be some, as I tell you yeretofore
+in that Wolfville book you've done printed, so common an' practical
+every gent must yield to'em. Thar's places where mere sooper.
+stition gets up from the table, an' mule-sense takes its seat. If I
+meets a gent evolvin' outcries of glee, an' walkin' on both sides of
+the street, an' most likely emptyin' a Colt's pistol at the
+firmament, an' all without obv'ous cause, I dedooces the presence in
+that gent's interior of a lib'ral freight of nose-paint. If, as I'm
+proceedin' about my destinies, I hears the voice of a gun, I argues
+the existence of a weepon in my vicinity. If the lead tharfrom cuts
+my saddle-horn, or creases my pony, or plugs a double hole in my
+sombrero, or some sech little play, I dies to a theery that the
+knight errant who's back of the racket means me, onlimbers my field
+piece, an' enters into the sperit of the eepisode. Which I gives you
+this in almost them very words before. Still, signs an' omens in
+what Doc Peets would term their 'occultisms,' I passes up. I
+wouldn't live in them apprehensions that beleaguers Boggs for a full
+herd of three-year-olds. "Which I'll never forget them eloocidations
+beright onfolds on Boggs one evenin' about the mournin' an' the
+howlin' of some hound-dogs that's been sendin' thrills through
+Boggs. It's when some outfit of mountebanks is givin' a show called
+'Uncle Tom's Cabin,' over to Huggins' Bird Cage Op'ry House, an'
+these yere saddenin' canines--big, lop-y'eared hound-dogs, they be--
+works in the piece.
+
+"'Do you-all hear them hound-clogs a-mournin' an' a-bayin' last
+evenin'?' asked Boggs of Enright.
+
+"'Shore! I hears 'em,' says Enright.
+
+"Enright, that a-way, is allers combatin' of Boggs' sooperstitions.
+As he says, if somebody don't head Boggs off, them deloosions
+spreads, an' the first news you gets, Wolfville's holdin' table-
+tippin's an' is goin' all spraddled out on seances an' sim'lar
+imbecilities, same as them sperit-rappin' hold-ups one encounters in
+the East. In sech event, Red Dog's doo to deem us locoed, an' could
+treat us with jestified disdain. Enright don't aim to allow
+Wolfville's good repoote to bog down to any sech extent, none
+whatever; an' so stand's in to protect both the camp an' pore Boggs
+himse'f from Boggs' weird an' ranikaboo idees. So Enright says
+ag'in: 'Shore! I hears 'em. An' what of it? Can't you-all let a pore
+pup howl, when his heart is low an' his destinies most likely has
+got tangled in their rope?'
+
+"'jest the same,' says Boggs, 'them outcries of theirs makes me feel
+a heap ambiguous. I'm drawin' kyards to a pa'r of fours that first
+howl they emits, an' I smells bad luck an' thinks to myse'f, "Here's
+where you get killed too dead to skin!" But as I takes in three
+aces, an' as the harvest tharof is crowdin' hard towards two hundred
+dollars, I concloodes, final, them dogs don't have me on their mind
+after all; an' so I'm appeased a whole lot. Still, I'm cur'ous to
+know whatever they're howlin' about anyhow.'
+
+"'Which you're too conceited, Boggs,' says Tutt, cuttin' in on the
+powwow. 'You-all is allers thinkin' everythin' means you. Now, I
+hears them dogs howlin', an' havin' beheld the spectacle they
+performs in, I sort o' allows they're sorrowin' over their
+disgraceful employment--sort o' 'shamed of their game. An' well them
+dogs might be bowed in sperit! for a more mendacious an' lyin'
+meelodramy than said "Uncle Tom's Cabin," I never yet pays four
+white chips to see; an' I'm from Illinoy, an' was a Abe Lincoln man
+an' a rank black ab'litionist besides.'
+
+"'Seein' I once owns a couple of hundred Guineas,' says Enright, 'my
+feelin's ag'in slavery never mounts so high as Tutt's; but as for
+eloocidatin' them dog-songs that's set your nerves to millin',
+Boggs, it's easy. Whenever you-all hears a dog mournin' an' howlin'
+like them hound-pups does last night, that's because he smells
+somethin' he can't locate; an' nacherally he's agitated tharby. Now
+yereafter, never let your imagination pull its picket-pin that a-
+way, an' go to cavortin' 'round permiscus--don't go romancin' off on
+any of them ghost round-ups you're addicted to. Thar's the whole
+groosome myst'ry laid b'ar; them pups merely smells things they
+can't locate, an' it frets 'em.'
+
+"'None the less,' remarks Cherokee Hall, 'while I reckons Enright
+gives us the c'rrect line on dogs that gets audible that a-way, an'
+onravels them howls in all their meanin's, I confesses I'm a heap
+like Boggs about signs. Mebby, as I says prior, it's because I'm a
+kyard sharp an' allers faces my footure over a faro layout. Anyhow,
+signs an' omens presses on me. For one thing, I'm sooperstitious
+about makin' of onyoosal arrangements to protect my play. I never
+yet tries to cinch a play, an' never notes anybody else try, but we-
+all quits loser. It ain't no use. Every gent, from his cradle to his
+coffin, has got to take a gambler's chance. Life is like stud-poker;
+an' Destiny's got an ace buried every time. It either out-lucks you
+or out-plays you whenever it's so inclined; an' it seems allers so
+inclined, Destiny does, jest as you're flatterin' yourse'f you've
+got a shore thing. A gent's bound to play fa'r with Destiny; he can
+put a bet down on that. You can't hold six kyards; you can't deal
+double; you can't play no cold hands; you can't bluff Destiny. All
+you-all can do is humbly an' meekly pick up the five kyards that
+belongs to you, an' in a sperit of thankfulness an' praise, an'
+frankly admittin' that you're lucky to be allowed to play at all, do
+your lowly best tharwith. Ain't I right, Doc?' An' Cherokee, lookin'
+warm an' earnest, turns to Peets.
+
+"'As absolootely right as the sights of a Sharp's rifle,' says
+Peets; 'an', while I'm not yere to render you giddy with encomiums,
+Cherokee, you shore ought to expand them sentiments into a lecture.'
+
+"'Jest to 'llustrate my meanin',' resooms Cherokee, 'let me onbosom
+myse'f as to what happens a party back in Posey County, Injeanny.
+I'm plumb callow at the time, bein' only about the size an' valyoo
+of a pa'r of fives. but I'm plenty impressed by them events I'm
+about to recount, an' the mem'ry is fresh enough for yesterday. But
+to come flutterin' from my perch. Thar's a sport who makes his home-
+camp in that hamlet which fosters my infancy; that is, he's thar
+about six months in the year. His long suit is playin' the ponies--
+he can beat the races; an' where he falls down is faro-bank, which
+never fails to freeze to all the coin he changes in. That's the
+palin' off his fence; faro-bank. He never does triumph at it onct.
+An' still the device has him locoed; he can't let it alone. Jest so
+shorely as he finds a faro-bank, jest so shorely he sets in ag'inst
+it, an' jest so shorely he ain't got a tail-feather left when he
+quits.
+
+"'The races is over for the season. It's the first snow of winter on
+the ground, when our sport comes trailin' in to make his annyooal
+camp. He's about six thousand dollars strong; for, as I states, he
+picks bosses right. An' he's been thinkin', too; this yere sport I'm
+relatin' of. He's been roominatin' the baleful effects of faro-bank
+in his speshul case. He knows it's no use him sayin' he wont buck
+the game. This person's made them vows before. An' they holds him
+about like cobwebs holds a cow--lasts about as long as a drink of
+whiskey. He's bound, in the very irreg'larities of his nacher, an'
+the deadly idleness of a winter with nothin' to do but think, to go
+to transactin' faro-bank. An', as a high-steppin' patriot once says,
+"jedgin' of the footure by the past," our sport's goin' to be
+skinned alive--chewed up--compared to him a Digger Injun will loom
+up in the matter of finance like a Steve Girard. An' he knows it.
+Wherefore this yere crafty sharp starts in to cinch a play; starts
+in to defy fate, an' rope up an' brand the footure, for at least six
+months to come. An', jest as I argues, Destiny accepts the challenge
+of this vainglorious sharp; acccepts it with a grin. Yere's what he
+does, an' yere's what comes to pass. "'Our wise, forethoughtful
+sport seeks out the robber who keeps the tavern. "The ponies will be
+back in May," says he, "an' I'm perishin' of cur'osity to know how
+much money you demands to feed an' sleep me till then." The tavern
+man names the bundle, an' the thoughtful sport makes good. Then he
+stiffens the barkeep for about ten drinks a day ontil the advent of
+them ponies. Followin' which, he searches out a tailor shop an'
+accoomulates a libh'ral trousseau, an' has it packed down to the
+tavern an' filed away in his rooms. "Thar!" he says; "which I
+reckons now I'm strong enough to go the distance. Not even a brace
+game of faro-bank, nor yet any sim'lar dead-fall, prevails ag'inst
+me. I flatters myse'f; for onct in a way, I've organized my
+destinies so that, for six months at least, they've done got to run
+troo." "'It's after supper; our sport, who's been so busy all day
+treein' the chances an' runnin' of 'em out on a limb, is loafin'
+about the bar. O'casionally he congratulates himse'f on havin' a
+long head like a mule; then ag'in he oneasily reverts to the faro
+game that's tossin' an' heavin' with all sorts o' good an' bad luck
+jest across the street.
+
+"'At first he's plumb inflex'ble that a-way, an' is goin' to deny
+himse'f to faro-bank. He waxes quite heroic about it, our sport
+does; a condition of sperits, by the way, I've allers noticed is
+prone to immejetly precede complete c'llapse.
+
+"'These yere reform thoughts of our sport consoomes a hour. About
+that time, however, he engages himse'f with the fifth drink of nose-
+paint. Tharupon faro-bank takes on a different tint. His attitoode
+towards that amoosement becomes enlarged; at least he decides he'll
+prance over some an' take a fall out of it for, say, a hundred or so
+either way, merely to see if his luck's as black as former. An' over
+capers our sport.
+
+"'It's the same old song by the same old mockin'-bird. At second
+drink time followin' midnight our sport is broke. As he gets up an'
+stretches 'round a whole lot in a half-disgusted way, he still can't
+he'p exultin' on how plumb cunnin' he's been. "I don't say this in
+any sperit of derision," he remarks to the dealer he's been settin'
+opp'site to for eight hours, an' who manoovers his fiscal over-
+throw, as aforesaid, "an' shorely with no intent to mortify a wolf
+like you-all, who's as remorseless as he's game, but I foresees this
+racket an' insures for its defeat. You figgers you've downed me.
+Mebby so. All the same, I've got my game staked out so that I eats,
+drinks, sleeps, an' wears clothes till the comin' of them ponies;
+an' you, an' the angels above, an' the demons down onder the sea, is
+powerless to put a crimp in them calc'lations. I've got the next six
+months pris'ner; I've turned the keys onto 'em same as if they're in
+a calaboose. An' no power can rescoo 'em none; an' they can't break
+jail."
+
+"'An' jest to show you-all,' continyoos Cherokee, after pausin' to
+tip the bottle for a spoonful, as well as let the sityooation sort
+o' trickle into us in all its outlines--Cherokee is plenty graphic
+that a-way, an' knows how to frame up them recitals so they takes
+effect--'an' jest to show you, as I remarks former, that every gent
+is bound to take a gambler's chance an' that shore-things don't
+exist, let me ask you what happens? Our confident sport ain't hardly
+got that bluff humg up before--"Inglegojang! inglegojang!" goes the
+church bell in alarm; the tavern's took fire an' burns plumb to the
+ground; drinks, chuck, bed, raiment, the whole bunch of tricks; an'
+thar's our wise sport out in the snow an' nothin' but a black ruck
+of smokin' ruins to remind him of that cinch of his.
+
+"'It's a lesson to him, though. As he stands thar meditatin' on the
+expectedness of the unexpected, he observes to himse'f, "Providence,
+if so minded, can beat a royal flush; an' any gent holdin' contrary
+views is a liar, amen!"'
+
+"'Good, Cherokee!' says Texas Thompson, as Cherokee comes to a halt;
+'I'm yere to observe you're a mighty excellent racontoor. Yere's
+lookin' at you!' an' Thompson raises his glass.
+
+"'I catches your eye,' says Cherokee, a heap pleased, as he p'litely
+caroms his glass ag'in Thompson's.
+
+"'But Cherokee,' whispers Faro Nell, from where she's clost by his
+side, 'if thar's somethin' I desires a whole lot, an' is doin' my
+level best to deserve an' keep it all my life, do you-all reckon now
+that Providence ups an' throws me down?'
+
+"'Not you, Nell,' says Cherokee, as he smiles on Faro Nell, an' kind
+o' surreptitious pats her har; 'not you. Providence guides your game
+an' guarantees it. I'm only discussin' of men. It's one of the best
+things about both Providence an' woman, an' to the credit of all
+concerned, that they allers agrees--allers goes hand in hand.'
+
+"'An' that last utterance is a fact,' observes Dave Tutt, who's been
+interested deep. 'When I first weds Tucson Jennie that time, I
+doubts them tenets. That's over a year ago, an' you bet I'm settin'
+yere to-day in possession of a new faith. It takes time to teach me,
+but I now sees that Tucson Jennie's the onfalterin' mouth-piece of
+eternal trooth; the full partner of Providence, a-holdin' down the
+post of lookout; an' that when she sets forth things, them things is
+decreed an' foreordained.'"
+
+And now my friend lapsed into silence and began to reload his pipe.
+"I used to smoke Lone Jack out on the plains," he murmured, "or
+mebby Frootes an' Flowers; but I don't know! I figgers this yere
+Bull Durham's got more force of char'cter."
+
+Then came more silence. But the night was young; I was disposed to
+hear further of Wolfville and its worthy citizens. My readiest
+method was to put forth a question.
+
+"But how about yourself?" I asked. "Do you, like Hall and Boggs,
+believe that Heaven especially interferes with the plans of man; or
+that a challenge, direct or otherwise, to the Powers Above, is
+liable to earn reply?"
+
+"I states ag'in," he retorted, puffing a calmative cloud the while,
+"I states ag'in: Thar's no sooperstition ridin' the ranges of my
+breast. Yet I sees enough in a long an' more or less eventful life--
+not to say an ill-employed life--to know that Providence packs a
+gun; an', as more than one scoffer finds out, she don't go heeled
+for fun. Thar's that Gene Watkins, who gets killed by lightnin' over
+by the Eagle Claw that time; downed for blasphemin', he is."
+
+"Let me hear about this Watkins," I urged; "no one is more
+interested in the doings of Providence than I."
+
+"Which from what little I notes of you," he observed, regarding me
+with a glance of dubious, sour suspicion, "you-all shore ought to
+be. An' I'll tell you one thing: If Providence ever gets wearied of
+the way you acts--an' it ain't none onlikely--you might as well set
+in your chips an' quit.
+
+"But as to this yere Watkins: I don't know about the wisdom of
+burdenin' you with Watkins. It's gettin' plenty late, an' I'm some
+fatigued myse'f; I must be organizin' to bed myse'f down a lot for
+the night. I ain't so cap'ble of sleeplessness as I am 'way back
+yonder in the years when I'm workin' cattle along the old Jones an'
+Plummer trail. However, it won't take long, this Watkins killin';
+an' seein' my moods is in the saddle that a-way, I may as well let
+you have it. This yere ain't a story exackly; it's more like a
+aneckdote; but it allers strikes me as sheddin' a ray on them
+speshul Providences.
+
+"This Watkins is a mere yooth; he jumps into Wolfville from the
+Texas Panhandle, where, it's rumored, he's been over free with a
+gun. However, that don't bother us a bit. Arizona conducts herse'f
+on the principle of everybody ridin' his own sign-camps, an' she
+ain't roundin' up escaped felons for no commoonity but herse'f.
+
+"The first time I sees this Watkins party is one evenin' when he
+sa'nters down the middle aisle of the Bird Cage Op'ry House, with
+his lariat in his hands, an' tosses the loop over a lady who's jest
+then renderin' that good old hymn:
+
+ "In the days of old, the days of gold,
+ The days of forty-nine!
+
+"It's mighty discouragin', this Watkins breakin' in on them
+melodies. It's more than discouragin', it's scand'lous. The loop is
+a bit big, an' falls cl'ar down an' fastens to this cantatrice by
+the fetlocks. An' then this locoed Watkins turns loose to pull her
+over the footlights. Which the worst is, havin' her by the heels,
+an' she settin' down that a-way, he pulls that lady over the
+footlights the wrong way.
+
+"It's at this epock, Jack Moore, who in his capac'ty of marshal is
+domineerin' about down in front, whacks Watkins over the head with
+his six-shooter, an' the lady's saved.
+
+"'What be you-all tryin' to do with this diva?' demands Moore of the
+Watkins party.
+
+"'Which I'm enamored of her,' says this yere Watkins, 'an' thar's a
+heap of things I was aimin' to pour into her years. But now you've
+done pounded me on top with that gun, they all gets jolted out of my
+mind.'
+
+"'Jest the same,' says Moore, 'if I was you, I'd take the saddle off
+my emotions, an' hobble 'em out to rest some. Meanwhile I'd think up
+a new system. You-all lacks reticence; also you're a heap too much
+disposed to keep yourse'f in the public eye. I don't know how it is
+in Texas, but yere in Arizona a gent who gets too cel'brated gets
+shot. Also, I might add in concloosion that your Panhandle notions
+of a good way to get confidenshul with a lady don't obtain none
+yere--they don't go. An' so I warns you, never express your feelin's
+with a lariat in this theayter no more. Wolfville yields leeniency
+to ign'rance once, but never ag'in.'
+
+"But, as I'm sayin'; about this Watkins over on the Eagle Claw:
+Thar's a half-dozen of us--a floatin' outfit we be, ridin' the
+range, pickin' up what calves misses the spring brandin'--an' we're
+bringin' along mebby three hundred cows an' half-grown calves, an'
+headin' for the bar-B-eight--that's Enright's brand--corral to mark
+the calves. It's late in August, jest at the beginnin' of the rains.
+Thar's a storm, an' everybody's in the saddle, plumb down to the
+cook, tryin' to hold the bunch. It's flash on flash of lightnin';
+an' thunder followin' on the heels of thunder-clap. As we-all is
+cirklin' the little herd, an' singin' to 'em to restore their reason
+with sounds they saveys, thar comes a most inord'nate flash of
+lightnin', an' a crash of thunder like a mountain fallin'; it sort
+o' stands us up on our hocks. It makes the pore cattle bat their
+eyes, an' almost knocks their horns off.
+
+"Thar's a moment of silence followin'; an' then this yere ontamed
+Watkins, tossin' his hand at the sky, shouts out:
+
+"'Blaze away! my gray-head creator! You-all has been shootin' at me
+for twenty years; you ain't hit me yet!'
+
+"Watkins is close to Boggs when he cuts loose this yere defiance;
+an' it simply scares Boggs cold! He's afraid he'll get picked off
+along with Watkins. Boggs, in his frenzy, pulls his six-shooter, an'
+goes to dictatin' with it towards Watkins.
+
+"'Pull your freight,' roars Boggs; 'don't you stay near me none.
+Get, or I'll give you every load in the gun.'
+
+"This Watkins person spurs his cayouse away; at the same time he's
+laughin' at Boggs, deemin' his terrors that a-way as reedic'lous. As
+he does, a streak of white fire comes down, straight as a blazin'
+arrer, an' with it sech a whirl of thunder, which I thought the
+earth had split! An' it shorely runs the devil's brand on Watkins.
+
+"When we recovers, thar he lies; dead--an' his pony dead with him.
+An' he must have got the limit; for, son, the very rowels of his
+spurs is melted. Right in the middle of his leather hat-band, where
+it covers his fore'ead, thar's burned a hole about the size of a 44-
+calibre bullet; that's where the bolt goes in. I remembers, as we
+gathers 'round, how Boggs picks up the hat. It's stopped rainin' of
+a sudden, an' the stars is showin' two or three, where the clouds is
+partin' away. Boggs stands thar lookin' first at the sky, an' then
+at the hat where the hole is. Then he shakes his head. 'She's a long
+shot, but a center one,' says Boggs."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+Colonel Sterett's War Record.
+
+
+It had been dark and overcast as to skies; the weather, however, was
+found serene and balmy enough. As I climbed the steps after my
+afternoon canter, I encountered the Old Cattleman. He was re-
+locating one of the big veranda chairs more to his comfort, and the
+better to enjoy his tobacco. He gave me a glance as I came up.
+
+"Them's mighty puny spurs," he observed with an eye of half
+commiseration, half disdain; "them's shore reedic'lous. Which they'd
+destroy your standin' with a cow pony, utter. He'd fill up with
+contempt for you like a water-hole in April. Shore! it's the rowels;
+they oughter be about the size an' shape of a mornin' star, them
+rowels had. Then a gent might hope for action. An' whyever don't
+you-all wear leather chapps that a-way, instead of them jimcrow
+boots an' trousers? They're plumb amoosin', them garments be. No, I
+onderstands; you don't go chargin' about in the bresh an' don't need
+chapps, but still you oughter don 'em for the looks. Thar's a wrong
+an' a right way to do; an' chapps is right. Thar's Johnny Cook of
+the Turkey Track; he's like you; he contemns chapps. Johnny charges
+into a wire fence one midnight, sort o' sidles into said boundary
+full surge; after that Johnny wears chapps all right. Does it hurt
+him? Son, them wires t'ars enough hide off Johnny, from some'ers
+about the hock, to make a saddle cover, an' he loses blood
+sufficient to paint a house. He comes mighty near goin' shy a laig
+on the deal. It's a lesson on c'rrect costumes that Johnny don't
+soon forget.
+
+"No, I never rides a hoss none now. These yere Eastern saddles ain't
+the right model. Which they's a heap too low in the cantle an' too
+low in the horn. An' them stirrup leathers is too short, an' two
+inches too far for'ard. I never does grade over-high for ridin' a
+hoss, even at my best. No, I don't get pitched off more'n is comin'
+to me; still, I ain't p'inted out to tenderfeet as no 'Centaur' as
+Doc Peets calls'em. I gets along without buckin' straps, an' my
+friends don't have to tie no roll of blankets across my saddle-horn,
+an' that's about the best I can report.
+
+"Texas Thompson most likely is the chief equestr'an of Wolfville.
+One time Texas makes a wager of a gallon of licker with Jack Moore,
+an' son! yere's what Texas does. I sees him with these eyes. Texas
+takes his rope an' ties down a bronco; one the record whereof is
+that he's that toomultuous no one can ride him. Most gents would
+have ducked at the name of this yere steed, the same bein'
+'Dynamite.' But Texas makes the bet I mentions, an' lays for this
+onrooly cayouse with all the confidence of virgin gold that a-way.
+
+"Texas ropes an' ties him down an' cinches the saddle onto him while
+he's layin' thar; Tutt kneelin' on his locoed head doorin' the
+ceremony. Then Tutt throws him loose; an' when he gets up he
+nacherally rises with Texas Thompson on his back.
+
+"First, that bronco stands in a daze, an' Texas takes advantage of
+his trance to lay two silver dollars on the saddle, one onder each
+of his laigs. An' final, you should shorely have beheld that bronco
+put his nose between his laigs an' arch himse'f an' buck! Reg'lar
+worm-fence buckin' it is; an' when he ain't hittin' the ground, he's
+shore abundant in that atmosphere a lot.
+
+"In the midst of these yere flights, which the same is enough to
+stim'late the imagination of a Apache, Texas, as ca'm an' onmoved as
+the Spanish Peaks, rolls an' lights a cigarette. Then he picks up
+the bridle an' gives that roysterin' bronco jest enough of the
+Mexican bit to fill his mouth with blood an' his mind with doubts,
+an' stops him. When Texas swings to the ground, them two silver
+dollars comes jinglin' along; which he holds 'em to the saddle that
+a-way throughout them exercises. It's them dollars an' the cigarette
+that raises the licker issue between Jack an' Texas; an' of course,
+Texas quits winner for the nose-paint."
+
+I had settled by this time into a chair convenient to my reminiscent
+companion, and relishing the restful ease after a twenty-mile run,
+decided to prolong the talk. Feeling for subjects, I became
+tentatively curious concerning politics.
+
+"Cow people," said my friend, "never saveys pol'tics. I wouldn't
+give a Mexican sheep--which is the thing of lowest valyoo I knows of
+except Mexicans themse'fs--or the views of any cow-puncher on them
+questions of state. You can gamble an' make the roof the limit, them
+opinions, when you-all once gets 'em rounded up, would be shore
+loodicrous, not to say footile.
+
+"Now, we-all wolves of Wolfville used to let Colonel Sterett do our
+polit'cal yelpin' for us; sort o' took his word for p'sition an'
+stood pat tharon. It's in the Red Light the very evenin' when Texas
+subdoos that bronco, an' lets the whey outen Jack Moore to the
+extent of said jug of Valley Tan, that Colonel Sterett goes off at a
+round road-gait on this yere very topic of pol'tics, an' winds up by
+tellin' us of his attitood, personal, doorin' the civil war, an' the
+debt he owes some Gen'ral named Wheeler for savin' of his life.
+
+"'Pol'tics,' remarks Colonel Sterett on that o'casion, re-fillin'
+his glass for the severaleth time, 'jest nacherally oozes from a
+editor, as you-all who reads reg'larly the Coyote b'ars witness;
+he's saturated with pol'tics same as Huggins is with whiskey. As for
+myse'f, aside from my vocations of them tripods, pol'tics is inborn
+in me. I gets 'em from my grandfather, as tall a sport an' as high-
+rollin' a statesman as ever packs a bowie or wins the beef at a
+shootin' match in old Kaintucky. Yes, sir,' says the Colonel, an
+thar's a pensive look in his eyes like he's countin' up that
+ancestor's merits in his mem'ry; 'pol'tics with me that-away is
+shore congenital.'
+
+"'Congenital!' says Dan Boggs, an' his tones is a heap satisfact'ry;
+'an' thar's a word that's good enough for a dog. I reckons I'll tie
+it down an' brand it into my bunch right yere.'
+
+"'My grandfather,' goes on the Colonel, 'is a Jackson man; from the
+top of the deck plumb down to the hock kyard, he's nothin' but
+Jackson. This yere attitood of my grandsire, an' him camped in the
+swarmin' midst of a Henry Clay country, is frootful of adventures
+an' calls for plenty nerve. But the old Spartan goes through.
+
+"'Often as a child, that old gent has done took me on his knee an'
+told me how he meets up first with Gen'ral Jackson. He's goin' down
+the river in one of them little old steamboats of that day, an' the
+boat is shore crowded. My grandfather has to sleep on the floor, as
+any more in the bunks would mean a struggle for life an' death.
+Thar's plenty of bunkless gents, however, besides him, an' as he
+sinks into them sound an' dreamless slumbers which is the her'tage
+of folks whose consciences run trop, he hears 'em drinkin' an'
+talkin' an' barterin' mendacity, an' argyfyin' pol'tics on all
+sides.
+
+"'My grandfather sleeps on for hours, an' is only aroused from them
+torpors, final, by some sport chunkin' him a thump in the back. The
+old lion is sleepin' on his face, that a-way, an' when he gets
+mauled like I relates, he wakes up an' goes to struggle to his feet.
+
+"'"Bars an' buffaloes!" says my grandfather; "whatever's that?"
+
+"'"Lay still, stranger," says the party who smites him; "I've only
+got two to go."
+
+"'That's what it is. It's a couple of gents playin' seven-up; an'
+bein' crowded, they yootilizes my grandfather for a table. This
+sport is swingin' the ace for the opp'site party's jack, an' he
+boards his kyard with that enthoosiasm it comes mighty clost to
+dislocatin' my old gent's shoulder. But he's the last Kaintuckian to
+go interfcrin' with the reecreations of others, so he lays thar
+still an' prone till the hand's played out.
+
+"'"High, jack, game!" says the stranger, countin' up; "that puts me
+out an' one over for lannyap."
+
+"'This yere seven-up gent turns out to be Gen'ral Jackson, an' him
+an' my grandfather camps down in a corner, drinks up the quart of
+Cincinnati Rectified which is the stakes, an' becomes mootually
+acquainted. An', gents, I says it with pride, the hero of the Hoss-
+shoe, an' the walloper of them English at New Orleans takes to my
+grandfather like a honeysuckle to a front porch.
+
+"'My grandfather comes plenty near forfeitin' then good opinions of
+the Gen'ral, though. It's the next day, an' that ancestor of mine
+an' the Gen'ral is recoverin' themse'fs from the conversation of the
+night before with a glass or two of tanzy bitters, when a lady, who
+descends on the boat at Madison, comes bulgin' into the gents'
+cabin. The captain an' two or three of the boat's folks tries to
+herd her into the women's cabin; but she withers 'em with a look,
+breshes 'em aside, an' stampedes along in among the men-people like
+I explains. About forty of 'em's smokin'; an' as tobacco is a
+fav'rite weakness of the tribe of Sterett, my grandfather is smokin'
+too.
+
+"'"I wants you-all to make these yere miscreants stop smokin'," says
+the lady to the captain, who follows along thinkin' mebby he gets
+her headed right after she's had her run out an' tires down some.
+"You're the captain of this tub," says the lady, "an' I demands my
+rights. Make these barb'rous miscreants stop smokin', or I leaves
+the boat ag'in right yere."
+
+"'The lady's plumb fierce, an' her face, which is stern an' heroic,
+carries a capac'ty for trouble lurkin' 'round in it, same as one of
+them bald hornet's nests on a beech limb. Nacherally my
+grandfather's gaze gets riveted on this lady a whole lot, his pipe
+hangin' forgetful from his lips. The lady's eyes all at once comes
+down on my grandfather, partic'lar an' personal, like a milk-crock
+from a high shelf.
+
+"'"An' I means you speshul," says the lady, p'intin' the finger of
+scorn at my grandfather. "The idee of you standin' thar smokin' in
+my very face, an' me a totterin' invalid. It shorely shows you ain't
+nothin' but a brute. If I was your wife I'd give you p'isen."
+
+"'"Which if you was my wife, I'd shore take it," says my
+grandfather; for them epithets spurs him on the raw, an' he forgets
+he's a gent, that a-way, an' lets fly this yere retort before he can
+give himse'f the curb.
+
+"'The moment my grandfather makes them observations, the lady
+catches her face--which as I tells you is a cross between a gridiron
+an' a steel trap--with both her hands, shakes her ha'r down her
+back, an' cuts loose a scream which, like a b'ar in a hawg-pen,
+carries all before it. Then she falls into the captain's arms an'
+orders him to pack her out on deck where she can faint.
+
+"'"Whatever be you-all insultin' this yere lady for?" says a
+passenger, turnin' on my grandfather like a crate of wildcats.
+"Which I'm the Roarin' Wolverine of Smoky Bottoms, an' I waits for a
+reply."
+
+"'My grandfather is standin' thar some confoosed an' wrought up, an'
+as warm as a wolf, thinkin' how ornery he's been by gettin' acrid
+with that lady. The way he feels, this yere Roarin' Wolverine party
+comes for'ard as a boon. The old gent simply falls upon him, jaw an'
+claw, an' goes to smashin' furniture an' fixin's with him.
+
+"'The Roarin' Wolverine allows after, when him an' my grandfather
+drinks a toddy an' compares notes, while a jack-laig doctor who's
+aboard sews the Roarin' Wolverine's y'ear back on, that he thinks at
+the time it's the boat blowin' up.
+
+"'"She's shore the vividest skrimmage I ever partic'pates in," says
+the Roarin' Wolverine; "an' the busiest. I wouldn't have missed it
+for a small clay farm."
+
+"'But Gen'ral Jackson when he comes back from offerin' condolences
+to the lady, looks dignified an' shakes his head a heap grave.
+
+"'"Them contoomelious remarks to the lady," he says to my
+grandfather, "lowers you in my esteem a lot. An' while the way you
+breaks up that settee with the Roarin' Wolverine goes some towards
+reestablishin' you, still I shall not look on you as the gent I
+takes you for, ontil you seeks this yere injured female an'
+crawfishes on that p'isen-takin' bluff."
+
+"'So my grandfather goes out on deck where the lady is still sobbin'
+an' hangin' on the captain's neck like the loop of a rope, an'
+apol'gizes. Then the lady takes a brace, accepts them contritions,
+an' puts it up for her part that she can see my grandfather's a
+shore-enough gent an' a son of chivalry; an' with that the riot
+winds up plumb pleasant all 'round.'
+
+"'If I may come romancin' in yere,' says Doc Peets, sort o' breakin'
+into the play at this p'int, 'with a interruption, I wants to say
+that I regyards this as a very pretty narratif, an' requests the
+drinks onct to the Colonel's grandfather.' We drinks accordin', an'
+the Colonel resoomes.
+
+"'My grandfather comes back from this yere expedition down the Ohio
+a most voylent Jackson man. An' he's troo to his faith as a adherent
+to Jackson through times when the Clay folks gets that intemp'rate
+they hunts 'em with dogs. The old gent was wont, as I su'gests, to
+regale my childish y'ears with the story of what he suffers, He
+tells how he goes pirootin' off among the farmers in the back
+counties; sleepin' on husk beds, till the bed-ropes cuts plumb
+through an' marks out a checker-board on his frame that would stay
+for months. Once he's sleepin' in a loft, an' all of a sudden about
+daybreak the old gent hears a squall that mighty near locoes him,
+it's so clost an' turrible. He boils out on the floor an' begins to
+claw on his duds, allowin', bein' he's only half awake that a-way,
+that it's a passel of them murderin' Clay Whigs who's come to crawl
+his hump for shore. But she's a false alarm. It's only a Dom'nick
+rooster who's been perched all night on my grandfather's wrist where
+his arm sticks outen bed, an' who's done crowed a whole lot, as is
+his habit when he glints the comin' day. It's them sort o' things
+that sends a shudder through you, an' shows what that old patriot
+suffers for his faith.
+
+"'But my grandfather keeps on prevailin' along in them views ontil
+he jest conquers his county an' carries her for Jackson. Shore! he
+has trouble at the polls, an' trouble in the conventions. But he
+persists; an' he's that domineerin' an' dogmatic they at last not
+only gives him his way, but comes rackin' along with him. In the
+last convention, he nacherally herds things into a corner, an'
+thar's only forty votes ag'in him at the finish. My grandfather
+allers says when relatin' of it to me long afterwards:
+
+"'"An' grandson Willyum, five gallons more of rum would have made
+that convention yoonanimous.
+
+"'But what he'ps the old gent most towards the last, is a j'int
+debate he has with Spence Witherspoon, which begins with
+reecrim'nations an' winds up with the guns. Also, it leaves this
+yere aggravatin' Witherspoon less a whole lot.
+
+"'"Wasn't you-all for nullification, an' ain't you now for Jackson
+an' the union?" asks this yere insultin' Witherspoon. "Didn't you
+make a Calhoun speech over on Mink Run two years ago, an' ain't you
+at this barbecue, to-day, consoomin' burgoo an' shoutin' for Old
+Hickory?"
+
+"'"What you-all states is troo," says my grandfather. "But my party
+turns, an' I turns with it. You-all can't lose Jack Sterett. He can
+turn so quick the heels of his moccasins will be in front."
+
+"'"Which them talents of yours for change," says Witherspoon,
+"reminds me a powerful lot of the story of how Jedge Chinn gives
+Bill Hatfield, the blacksmith, that Berkshire suckin' pig.
+'"An' whatever is that story?" asks my grandfather, beginnin' to
+loosen his bowie-knife in its sheath.
+
+"'"Take your paws off that old butcher of your'n," returns this
+pesterin' Witherspoon, "an' I'll tell the story. But you've got to
+quit triflin' with that 'leven-inch knife ontil I'm plumb through,
+or I'll fool you up a lot an' jest won't tell it."
+
+"'Tharupon my grandfather takes his hand offen the knife-haft, an'
+Witherspoon branches forth:
+
+"'"When I recalls how this oncompromisin' outlaw," p'intin' to my
+grandfather, "talks for Calhoun an' nullification over on Mink Run,
+an' today is yere shoutin' in a rum-sodden way for the union an'
+Andy Jackson, as I observes yeretofore, it shore reminds me of the
+story of how Jedge Chinn give Bill Hatfield that Berkshire shoat.
+'Send over one of your niggers with a basket an' let him get one,
+Bill,' says Jedge Chinn, who's been tellin' Hatfield about the pigs.
+Neyt day, Bill mounts his nigger boy, Dick, on a mule, with a basket
+on his arm, an' Dick lines out for Jedge Chinn's for to fetch away
+that little hawg. Dick puts him in the basket, climbs onto his mule,
+an' goes teeterin' out for home. On the way back, Dick stops at
+Hickman's tavern. While he's pourin' in a gill of corn jooce, a wag
+who's present subtracts the pig an' puts in one of old Hickman's
+black Noofoundland pups. When Dick gets home to Bill Hatfield's,
+Bill takes one look at the pup, breaks the big rasp on Dick's head,
+throws the forehammer at him, an' bids him go back to Jedge Chinn
+an' tell him that he, Bill, will sally over the first dull day an'
+p'isen his cattle an' burn his barns. Dick takes the basket full of
+dog on his arm, an' goes p'intin' for Jedge Chinn. Nacherally, Dick
+stops at Hickman's tavern so as to mollify his feelin's with that
+red-eye. This yere wag gets in ag'in on the play, subtracts the pup
+an' restores the little hawg a whole lot. When Dick gets to Jedge
+Chinn, he onfolds to the Jedge touchin' them transformations from
+pig to pup. 'Pshaw!' says the Jedge, who's one of them pos'tive
+sharps that no ghost tales is goin' to shake; 'pshaw! Bill
+Hatfield's gettin' to be a loonatic. I tells him the last time I has
+my hoss shod that if he keeps on pourin' down that Hickman whiskey,
+he'll shorely die, an' begin by dyin' at the top. These yere
+illoosions of his shows I drives the center.' Then the Jedge
+oncovers the basket an' turns out the little hawg. When nigger Dick
+sees him, he falls on his knees. 'I'm a chu'ch member, Marse Jedge,'
+says Dick, 'an' you-all believes what I says. That anamile's
+conjured, Jedge. I sees him yere an' I sees him thar; an', Jedge,
+he's either pig or pup, whichever way he likes.'
+
+"'"An', ladies an' gents," concloodes this Witherspoon, makin' a
+incriminatin' gesture so's to incloode my grandfather that a-way;
+"when I reflects on this onblushin' turncoat, Jack Sterett, as I
+states prior, it makes me think of how Jedge Chinn lavishes that
+Berkshire shoat on blacksmith Bill Hatfield. Confessin' that
+aforetime he's a nullification pig on Mink Run, he sets yere at this
+barbecue an' without color of shame declar's himse'f a union pup.
+Mister Cha'rman, all I can say is, it shore beats squinch owls!"
+
+"'As the story is finished, the trooce which binds my grandfather
+ends, an' he pulls his bowie-knife an' chases this Witherspoon from
+the rostrum. He'd had his detractor's skelp right thar, but the
+cha'rman an' other leadin' sperits interferes, an' insists on them
+resentments of my grandfather's findin' the usual channel in their
+expression. Witherspoon, who's got on a new blanket coat, allows he
+won't fight none with knives as they cuts an' sp'iles your clothes;
+he says he prefers rifles an' fifty paces for his. My grandfather,
+who's the easiest gent to get along with in matters of mere detail,
+is agree'ble; an' as neither him nor Witherspoon has brought their
+weepons, the two vice pres'dents, who's goin' to act as seconds--the
+pres'dent by mootual consent dealin' the game as referee--rummages
+about air' borrys a brace of Looeyville rifles from members of the
+Black B'ar Glee Club--they're the barytone an' tenor--an' my
+grandfather an' the scandal-mongerin' Witherspoon is stood up.
+
+"'"Gents," says the pres'dent, "the words will be, 'Fire-one-two-
+three-stop.' It's incumbent on you-all to blaze away anywhere
+between the words 'Fire' an' 'Stop'. My partin' injunctions is, 'May
+heaven defend the right,' an' be shore an' see your hindsights as
+you onhooks your guns."
+
+"'At the word, my grandfather an' Witherspoon responds prompt an'
+gay. Witherspoon overshoots, while my grandfather plants his lead in
+among Witherspoon's idees, an' that racontoor quits Kaintucky for
+the other world without a murmur.
+
+"'"I regyards this event as a vict'ry for Jackson an' principle,"
+says my grandfather, as he's called on to proceed with his oration,
+"an' I'd like to say in that connection, if Henry Clay will count
+his spoons when he next comes sneakin' home from Washin'ton, he'll
+find he's short Spence Witherspoon."'
+
+"'Your grandfather's a troo humorist,' says Texas Thompson, as
+Colonel Sterett pauses in them recitals of his to reach the bottle;
+'I looks on that last witticism of his as plumb apt.'
+
+"'My grandfather,' resoomes Colonel Sterett, after bein' refreshed,
+'is as full of fun as money-musk, an' when that audience gets onto
+the joke in its completeness, the merriment is wide an yooniversal.
+It's the hit of the barbecue; an' in this way, little by little, my
+grandfather wins his neighbors to his beliefs, ontil he's got the
+commoonity all stretched an' hawgtied, an' brands her triumphant for
+Gen'ral Jackson.'
+
+"'An' does your own pap follow in the footprints of his old gent, as
+a convincin' an' determined statesman that a-way?' asks Doc Peets.
+
+'No,' says Colonel Sterett, 'my own personal parent simmers down a
+whole lot compared to my grandfather. He don't take his pol'tics so
+much to heart; his democracy ain't so virulent an' don't strike in.
+His only firm stand on questions of state, as I relates the other
+day, is when he insists on bein' nootral doorin' the late war. I
+explains how he talks federal an' thinks reb, an' manages, that a-
+way, to promote a decent average.
+
+"'His nootrality, however, don't incloode the fam'ly none. My
+brother Jeff--an' I never beholds a haughtier sperit-goes
+squanderin' off with Morgan at the first boogle call,' "'That raid
+of Morgan's,' says Enright, his eye brightenin', 'is plumb full of
+dash an' fire.' "'Shore,' says the Colonel, 'plumb full of dash an'
+fire. But Jeff tells me of it later, foot by foot, from the time
+they crosses the river into Injeanny, till they comes squatterin'
+across at Blennerhasset's Island into Kaintucky ag'in, all' I sadly,
+though frankly, admits it looks like it possesses some elements of a
+chicken-stealin' expedition also. Jeff says he never sees so many
+folks sincere, an' with their minds made up, as him all' Morgan an'
+the rest of the Bloo Grass chivalry encounters oil that croosade.
+
+Thar's an uprisin' of the peasantry, Jeff says, whereever they goes;
+an' then clods pursoocs Jeff an' the others, from start to finish,
+with hoes an' rakes an' mattocks an' clothes-poles an' puddin'-
+sticks an' other barbarous an' obsolete arms, an' never lets up
+ontil Jeff an' Morgan all' their gallant comrades is ag'in safe in
+the arms of their Kaintucky brethren.
+
+Their stay in any given spot is trooly brief.
+
+That town of Cincinnati makes up a bundle of money big enough to
+choke a cow to give 'em as a ransom; but Jeff an' Morgan never do
+hear of it for years. They goes by so plumb swift they don't get
+notice; an' they fades away in the distance so fast they keeps ahead
+of the news. However, they gets back to Kaintucky safe an' covered
+with dust an' glory in even parts; an' as for Jeff speshul, as the
+harvest of his valor, he reports himse'f the owner of a one-sixth
+interest in a sleigh which him an' five of his indomitable
+companions has done drug across the river on their return. But they
+don't linger over this trophy; dooty calls 'em, so they stores the
+sleigh in a barn an' rides away to further honors.
+
+"'We never do hear of Jeff none all through that war but once. After
+he's j'ined Stonewall Jackson, I recalls how he sends home six
+hundred dollars in confed'rate money with a letter to my father. It
+runs like this:
+
+ In camp with Stonewall Jackson.
+ Respected Sir:
+
+
+The slave who bears this will give you from me a treasure of six
+hundred dollars. I desire that you pay the tavern and whatever
+creditors of mine you find. To owe debts does not comport with the
+honor of a cavalier, and I propose to silence all base clamors on
+that head. I remain, most venerated sir, Yours to command,
+ Jefferson Sterett.
+
+"'That's the last we-all hears of my sens'tive an' high-sperited
+brother ontil after Mister Lee surrenders. It's one mornin' when
+Jeff comes home, an' the manner of his return shorely displays his
+nobility of soul, that a-way, as ondiscouraged an' ondimmed. No
+one's lookin' for Jeff partic'lar, when I hears a steamboat whistle
+for our landin'. I, bein' as I am full of the ontamed cur'osity of
+yooth, goes curvin' out to see what's up. I hears the pilot give the
+engineer the bells to set her back. on the sta'board wheel, an' then
+on both. The boat comes driftin' in. A stagin' is let down, an with
+the tread of a conqueror who should come ashore but my brother Jeff!
+Thar's nothin' in his hands; he ain't got nothin' with him that he
+ain't wearin'. An' all he has on is a old wool hat, a hick'ry shirt,
+gray trousers, an' a pair of copper-rivet shoes as red as a bay
+hoss. As he strikes the bank, Jeff turns an' sweeps the scene with
+the eye of a eagle. Then takin' a bogus silver watch outen his
+pocket, he w'irls her over his head by the leather string an' lets
+her go out into the river, ker-chunk!
+
+"'"Which I enters into this yere rebellion," says Jeff, flashin' a
+proud, high glance on me where I stands wonderin', "without nothin',
+an' I proposes to return with honor ontarnished, an' as pore as I
+goes in."
+
+"'As me an' Jeff reepairs up to the house, I notes the most
+renegade-lookin' nigger followin' behind.
+
+"'"Whoever's dis yere nigger?" I asks.
+
+"'"He's my valet," says Jeff.
+
+"'My arm's a heap too slight,' goes on Colonel Sterett, followin' a
+small libation, 'to strike a blow for the confed'racy, but my soul
+is shorely in the cause. I does try to j'ine, final, an' is only
+saved tharfrom, an' from what would, ondoubted, have been my certain
+death, by a reb gen'ral named Wheeler. He don't mean to do it; she's
+inadvertent so far as he's concerned; but he saves me jest the same.
+An' settin' yere as I be, enjoyin' the friendship an' esteem of you-
+all citizens of Wolfville, I feels more an' more the debt of
+gratitoode I owes that gallant officer an' man.'
+
+"'However does this Gen'ral Wheeler save you?' asks Dan Boggs.
+'Which I'm shore eager to hear.'
+
+"'The tale is simple,' responds the Colonel, 'an' it's a triboote to
+that brave commander which I'm allers ready to pay. It's in the
+middle years of the war, an' I'm goin' to school in a village which
+lies back from the river, an' is about twenty miles from my
+ancestral home. Thar's a stockade in the place which some invadin'
+Yanks has built, an' thar's about twenty of 'em inside, sort o'
+givin' orders to the village an' makin' its patriotic inhabitants
+either march or mark time, whichever chances to be their Yankee
+caprices.
+
+"'As a troo Southern yooth, who feels for his strugglin' country, I
+loathes them Yankees to the limit, an' has no more use for 'em than
+Huggins has for a temp'rance lecturer.
+
+"'One day a troop of reb cavalry jumps into the village, an'
+stampedes these yere invaders plumb off the scene. We gets the news
+up to the school, an' adjourns in a bunch to come down town an'
+cel'brate the success of the Southern arms. As I arrives at the
+field of carnage, a reb cavalryman is swingin' outen the saddle. He
+throws the bridle of his hoss to me.
+
+"'" See yere, Bud," he says, "hold my hoss a minute while I sees if
+I can't burn this stockade."
+
+"'I stands thar while the reb fusses away with some pine splinters
+an' lightwood, strugglin' to inaug'rate a holycaust. He can't make
+the landin'; them timbers is too green, that a-way.
+
+"'While I'm standin' thar, lendin' myse'f to this yere conflagratory
+enterprise, I happens to cast my eyes over on the hills a mile back
+from the village, an' I'm shocked a whole lot to observe them
+eminences an' summits is bloo with Yankees comin'. Now I'm a mighty
+careful boy, an' I don't allow none to let a ragin' clanjamfrey of
+them Lincoln hirelings caper up on me while I'm holdin' a reb boss.
+So I calls to this yere incendiary trooper where he's blowin' an'
+experimentin' an' still failin' with them flames.
+
+"'" Secesh!" I shouts; "oh, you-all secesh! You'd a mighty sight
+better come get your hoss, or them Yanks who's bulgin' along over
+yonder'll spread your hide on the fence."
+
+"'This reb takes a look at the Yanks, an' then comes an' gets his
+hoss. As he gathers up the bridle rein an' swings into the saddle, a
+mad thirst to fight, die an' bleed for my country seizes me, an' I
+grabs the reb's hoss by the bits an' detains him.
+
+"'"Say, Mister," I pleads, "why can't you-all take me with you?"
+
+"'" Which you're a lot too young, son," says the reb, takin' another
+size-up of the Yanks.
+
+"'" I ain't so young as I looks," I argues; "I'm jest small of my
+age."
+
+"'" Now, I reckons that's so," says the reb, beamin' on me
+approvin', "an' you're likewise mighty peart. But I'll tell you,
+Bud, you ain't got no hoss."
+
+"'"That's nothin'," I responds; "which if you-all will only get me a
+gun, I can steal a hoss, that a-way, in the first mile."
+
+"'Seein' me so ready with them argyments, an' so dead pertinacious
+to go, this yere trooper begins to act oneasy, like his resolootion
+gets shook some. At last he gridds his teeth together like his
+mind's made up.
+
+"'" Look yere, boy," he says, "do you know who our Gen'ral is?"
+
+"'"No," I says, "I don't."
+
+"'"Well," says the reb, as he shoves his feet deep in the stirrups,
+an' settles in his saddle like he's goin' to make some time; "well,
+he's a ragin' an' onfettered maverick, named Wheeler; an' from the
+way he goes skallyhootin' 'round, he's goin' to get us all killed or
+captured before ever we gets back, an' I don't want no chil'en on my
+hands." "'With that this yere soldier yanks the bridle outen my
+grasp, claps the steel into his hoss's flanks, an' leaves me like a
+bullet from a gun. For my part, I stands thar saved; saved, as I
+says, by that Gen'ral Wheeler's repootation with his men.'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+Old Man Enright's Love.
+
+
+"Son, I'm gettin' plumb alarmed about myse'f," observed the Old
+Cattleman, as we drew together for our usual talk. "I've been sort
+o' cog'tatin' tharof, an' I begins to allow I'm a mighty sight too
+garrulous that a-way. This yere conversation habit is shore growin'
+on me, an', if I don't watch out, I'm goin' to be a bigger talker
+than old Vance Groggins,"
+
+"Was Groggins a great conversationist?" I asked.
+
+"Does this yere Vance Groggins converse? Which I wish I has stored
+by a pint of licker for everythin' Vance says! It would be a long
+spell before ever I'm driven to go ransackin' 'round to find one of
+them life-savin' stations, called by common consent, a 's'loon!'
+This Vance don't do nothin' but talk; he's got that much to say, it
+gets in his way. Vance comes mighty clost to gettin' a heap the
+worst of it once merely on account of them powers of commoonication.
+
+"You see, this yere Vance is a broke-down sport, an' is dealin'
+faro-bank for Jess Jenkins over on the Canadian. An' Vance jest
+can't resist takin' part in every conversation that's started. Let
+two gents across the layout go to exchangin' views, or swappin'
+observations, an' you can gamble that Vance comes jimmin' along in.
+An' Vance is allers tellin' about his brother Abe. Does a gent
+mention that he brands eight hundred calves that spring round-up,
+Vance cuts in with the bluff that his brother Abe brands twelve
+hundred; does a sport su'gest that he sees a party win four thousand
+dollars ag'in monte or roulette or faro or some sech amoosement,
+Vance gets thar prompt with some ranikaboo relations of a time when
+his brother Abe goes ag'inst Whitey Bob at Wichita, makes a killin'
+of over sixty thousand dollars, an' breaks the bank.
+
+"'My brother Abe,' says this yere scand'lous Vance that a-way, 'jest
+nacherally wins the kyarpets off Whitey Bob's floor.'
+
+"Son, it's simple egreegious the way this Vance carries on in them
+fool rev'lations touchin' his brother Abe.
+
+"It gets so, final, that a passel of sports lodges complaints with
+Jenkins. 'What's the use!' says them maddened sports to Jenkins.
+'This Vance don't deal faro-bank; he jest don't do nothin' but talk.
+Thar we sets, our bets on the layout, an' we don't get no action.
+This Vance won't deal a kyard for fear we don't hear about that
+brother Abe Groggins of his'n.'
+
+"Them criticisms makes Jenkins plenty quer'lous. He rounds Vance up
+an' curries him a whole lot. Then he tells Vance to pull his
+freight; he don't want him to deal faro-bank for him no more.
+
+"At this, Vance turns plumb piteous, an' asks Jenkins not to throw
+him loose, that a-way. An' he promises to re-organize an' alter his
+system. 'I knows my failin's,' says Vance a heap mournful. 'You
+don't have to come 'round tauntin' me with 'em; I'm dead onto 'em
+myse'f. I'm too frank an' I'm too sociable; I'm too prone to regale
+my fellow gents with leafs from my experience; an' I realize, as
+well as you do, Jenk, it's wrong. Shorely, I've no right to stop in
+the middle of a deal to tell a story an' force the hopes an' fears,
+not to say the fortunes, of a half-dozen intense sports, an' some of
+'em in the hole at that, to wait till I gets through! I know it
+ain't right, Jenk; but I promises you, if you'll let me go behind
+the box ag'in to-night, on the honor of a kyard sharp, you-all will
+never hear a yelp outen me from soda to hock. An' that's whatever!"
+
+"'It ain't not alone that you talks forever,' remonstrates Jenkins;
+'but it's them frightful lies you tells. Which they're enough to
+onsettle a gent's play, to say nothin' of runnin' the resk of
+raisin' a hoodoo an' queerin' my bank. But I tries you once more,
+Vance; only get it straight: So shore as ever you takes to onloadin'
+on the company one of them exaggerations about that felon Abe, I
+won't say "Go," I'll jest onlimber an' burn the moccasins off you
+with my gun.'
+
+"It's that very night; Vance has been dealin' the game for mighty
+likely it's three hours, an' no one gets a verbal rise outen him
+more'n if he's a graven image. Vance is gettin' proud of himse'f,
+an' Jenkins, who comes prowlin' 'round the game at times, begins to
+reckon mebby Vance'll do. All goes well ontil a party lets fly some
+hyperbole about a tavern he strikes in Little Rock, which for size
+an' extensif characteristics lays over anythin' on earth like a
+summer's cloud.
+
+"'You thinks so?' says Vance, stoppin' the deal, an' leanin' a elbow
+on the box, while he goes projectin' towards the countenance of the
+Little Rock party with the forefinger of his other hand, kind o'
+claimin' his attention. 'You thinks so! I allows now you-all reckons
+that for a hotel, this yere Little Rock edifice is the old he-coon!
+Let me tell you somethin': My brother Abe goes out to one of them
+bathin' camps, swept by ocean breezes, on the Pacific slope, an' you
+should shorely oughter behold the joint he slams up! Pards, thar's
+more than two thousand rooms in that wickeyup! It's 'leven hundred
+an' twelve foot high, four thousand two hundred an' fifty-four foot
+long, an'--' It's here pore Vance catches Jenkins' eye glarin' on
+him hard an' remorseless--'an' twenty foot wide,' says Vance, a heap
+hurried, dashin' the kyards outen the box. 'Five lose, jack win,'
+concloodes Vance confoosedly, makin' a hasty change of subjects.
+
+"Yes, indeed!" and the old gentleman looked thoughtfully across the
+lawn as he wound up his tale of the unfortunate Groggins, "Yes,
+indeed If I keeps on talkin' away, I'll become a laughin'-stock,
+same as that locoed Vance! Thar's one matter that allers imbues me
+with a heap of respect for deef an' dumb folks; which they shorely
+do keep things to themse'fs a whole lot."
+
+It was fifteen minutes before I could convince my friend that his
+Wolfville stories in no sort diminished his dignity. Also, I
+reminded him of a promise to one day tell me of Enright's one affair
+of love; plainly his bond in that should be fulfilled. At last he
+gave way, and after commanding the coming of a favorite and highly
+refreshing beverage, held forth as follows:
+
+"It's never been my beliefs," he said, "that Sam Enright would have
+dipped into them old love concerns of his if he'd been himse'f.
+Enright's sick at the time. Shore! he ain't sick to the p'int of
+bein' down in his blankets, an' is still meanderin' 'round the camp
+as dooty dictates or his interest calls, but he's plenty ailin' jest
+the same. Thar's the roodiments of a dispoote between Doc Peets an'
+Enright as to why his health that time is boggin' down. Peets puts
+it up it's a over-accoomulation of alkali; Enright allows it's
+because he's born so long ago. Peets has his way, however, bein' a
+scientist that a-way, an' takes possession of the case.
+
+"No, it ain't them maladies that so weakens Enright he lapses into
+confidences about his early love; but you see, son, Peets stops his
+nose-paint; won't let him drink so much as a drop; an' bein' cut off
+short on nourishment like I says, it makes Enright--at least so I
+allers figgers--some childish an' light-headed. That's right; you
+remove that good old Valley Tan from the menu of a party who's been
+adherin' an' referrin' to it year after year for mighty likely all
+his days, an' it sort o' takes the stiffenin' outen his dignity a
+lot; he begins to onbend an' wax easy an' confidenshul. Is seems
+then like he goes about cravin' countenance an' support. An' down
+onder my belt, it strikes me at the time, an' it shore strikes me
+yet, that ravishin' the canteen from Enright, nacherally enfeebles
+him an' sets him to talkin' an tellin' of past days. Oh, he don't
+keep up this yere onhealthful abstinence forever. Peets declar's
+Enright removed from danger, an' asks him to drink, himse'f, inside
+of two weeks.
+
+"'Where a gent,' says Peets, elab'ratin' this yere theery of not
+drinkin' none, 'has been crookin' his elbow constant, an' then goes
+wrong, bodily, it's a great play to stop his nose-paint abrupt. It's
+a shock to him, same as a extra ace in a poker deck; an' when a
+gent' is ill, shocks is what he needs.'
+
+"'But let me savey about this,' says Dan Boggs, who's allers a heap
+inquis'tive an' searchin' after knowledge; 'do you-all impose this
+onwonted sobriety as a penalty, or do you make the play meedic'nal?'
+
+Meedic'nal,' says Peets. 'In extreme cases, sobriety is plenty
+cooratif.'
+
+"Does Enright bow to Doc Peets' demands about no whiskey that a-way?
+Son, Peets is plumb inex'rable about them preescriptions of his. He
+looks on the mildest argyment ag'in 'em as personal affronts. Peets
+is the most immov'ble sharp, medical, that ever I crosses up with;
+an' when it comes to them preescriptions, the recklessest sport in
+Arizona lays down his hand.
+
+"Once I knows Peets to pass on the failin' condition of a tenderfoot
+who's bunked in an' allows he'll die a lot over to the O. K.
+Restauraw. Peets decides this yere shorthorn needs abstinence from
+licker. Peets breaks the news to the onhappy victim, an' puts him on
+water till the crisis shall be past. Also, Peets notified the Red
+Light not to heed any requests of this party in respects to said
+nose-paint.
+
+"It turns out this sick person, bonin' for licker as is plumb
+nacheral, forgets himse'f as a gent an' sort o' reckons he'll get
+fraudulent with Peets. He figgers he'll jest come Injunin' into the
+Red Light, quil himse'f about a few drinks surreptitious, an' then
+go trackin' back to his blankets, an' Doc Peets none the wiser. So,
+like I says, this yere ill person fronts softly up to the Red Light
+bar an' calls for Valley Tan.
+
+"Black Jack, the barkeep, don't know this party from a cross-L
+steer; he gets them mandates from Peets, but it never does strike
+Black Jack that this yere is the dyin' sport allooded to. In
+darkness that a-way, Black Jack tosses a glass on the bar an' shoves
+the bottle. It shore looks like that failin' shorthorn is goin' to
+quit winner, them recooperatifs.
+
+"But, son, he's interrupted. He's filled his glass--an' he's been
+plenty free about it--an' stands thar with the bottle in his hand,
+when two guns bark, an' one bullet smashes the glass an' the other
+the bottle where this person is holdin' it. No, this artillery
+practice don't stampede me none; I'm plumb aware it's Doc Peets'
+derringers from the go-off. Peets stands in the door, one of his
+little pup-guns in each hand.
+
+"'Which I likes your aplomb!' says Black Jack to Peets, as he swabs
+off the bar in a peevish way. 'I makes it my boast that I'm the
+best-nachered barkeep between the Colorado an' the Rio Grande, an'
+yet I'm free to confess, sech plays chafes me. May I ask,' an' Black
+Jack stops wipin' the bar an' turns on Peets plumb p'lite, 'what
+your idee is in thus shootin' your way into a commercial affair in
+which you has no interest?'
+
+"'This ycre bibulous person is my patient,' says Peets, a heap
+haughty. 'I preescribes no licker; an' them preescriptions is goin'
+to be filled, you bet! if I has to fill 'em with a gun. Whatever do
+you-all reckon a medical practitioner is? Do you figger he's a
+Mexican, an' that his diagnosises, that a-way, don't go? I notifies
+you this mornin' as I stands yere gettin' my third drink, that if
+this outcast comes trackin' in with demands for nose-paint, to
+remember he's sick an' throw him out on his head. An' yere's how I'm
+obeyed!'
+
+"Which, of course, this explains things to Black Jack, an' he sees
+his inadvertences. He comes out from behind the bar to where this
+sick maverick has done fainted in the confoosion, an' collars him
+an' sets him on a char.
+
+"'Doc,' says Black Jack, when he's got the wilted gent planted firm
+an' safe, 'I tenders my regrets. Havin' neither brands nor
+y'earmarks to guide by, I never recognizes this person as your
+invalid at all; none whatever. I'd shore bent a gun on him an'
+harassed him back into his lair, as you requests, if I suspects his
+identity. To show I'm on the squar', Doc, I'll do this party any
+voylence, even at this late hour, which you think will make amends.'
+
+"'Your apol'gy is accepted,' says Peets, but still haughty; 'I
+descerns how you gets maladroit through errors over which you has no
+control. As to this person, who's so full of stealthy cunnin', he's
+all right. So long as he don't get no licker, no voylence is called
+for in his case.' An' with that Peets conducts his patient, who's
+come to ag'in, back to his reservation.
+
+"But I onbuckles this afternoon to tell you-all about Old Man
+Enright's early love, an' if I aims to make the trip before the moon
+comes up, I better hit the trail of them reminiscences an' no
+further delays.
+
+"It's in the back room of the New York Store where the casks be, an'
+Enright, on whose nerves an' sperits Peets' preescriptions of 'no
+licker' has been feedin' for two full days, sits thar sort o'
+fidgin' with his fingers an' movin' his feet in a way which shows
+he's a heap on aige. Thar's a melancholy settles on us all, as we
+camps 'round on crates an' shoe boxes an' silently sympathizes with
+Enright to see him so redooced. At last the grand old chief starts
+in to talk without questions or requests.
+
+"'If you-all don't mind,' says Enright, 'I'll let go a handful of
+mem'ries touchin' my yooth. Thar's nothin' like maladies to make a
+gent sentimental, onless it be gettin' shot up or cut up with
+bullets or bowies; an' these yere visitations, which Peets thinks is
+alkali an' I holds is the burdens of them years of mine, shore
+leaves me plumb romantic.
+
+'Which I've been thinkin' all day, between times when I'm thinkin'
+of licker, of Polly Hawks; an' I'll say right yere she's my first
+an' only love. She's a fine young female, is Polly--tall as a
+saplin', with a arm on her like a cant-hook. Polly can lift an' hang
+up a side of beef, an' is as good as two hands at a log-rollin'.
+
+"'This yere's back in old Tennessee on the banks of the Cumberland.
+It's about six years followin' on the Mexican war, an' I'm shot
+up'ards into the semblances of a man. My affections for Polly has
+their beginnin's in a coon-hunt into which b'ars an' dogs gets
+commingled in painful profoosion.
+
+"'I ain't the wonder of a week with a rifle now, since I'm old an'
+dim, but them times on the Cumberland I has fame as sech. More'n
+once, ag'inst the best there is in either the Cumberland or the
+Tennessee bottoms, or on the ridge between, I've won as good as, say
+first, second and fifth quarters in a shoot for the beef.'
+
+"'Whatever do you-all call a fifth quarter of beef?' asks Dan Boggs.
+'Four quarters is all I'm ever able to count to the anamile.'
+
+"'It's yooth an' inexperience,' says Enright, 'that prompts them
+queries. The fifth quarter is the hide an' tallow; an' also thar's a
+sixth quarter, the same bein' the bullets in the stump which makes
+the target, an' which is dug out a whole lot, lead bein' plenty
+infrequent in them days I'm dreamin' of.
+
+"'As I'm sayin', when Dan lams loose them thick head questions, I'm
+a renowned shot, an' my weakness is huntin' b'ars. I finds 'em an'
+kills 'em that easy, I thinks thar's nothin' in the world but b'ars.
+An' when I ain't huntin' b'ars, I'm layin' for deer; an' when I
+ain't layin' for deer, I'm squawkin' turkeys; an' when I ain't
+squawkin' turkeys, I'm out nights with a passel of misfit dogs I
+harbors, a shakin' up the scenery for raccoons. Altogether, I'm some
+busy as you-all may well infer.
+
+"'One night I'm coon huntin'. The dogs trees over on Rapid Run. When
+I arrives, the whole pack is cirkled 'round the base of a big beech,
+singin'; my old Andrew Jackson dog leadin' the choir with the air,
+an' my Thomas Benton dog growlin' bass, while the others warbles
+what parts they will, indiscrim'nate.
+
+"'Nacherally, the dogs can't climb the tree none, an' I has to make
+that play myse'f. I lays down my gun, an' shucks my belts an' knife,
+an' goes swarmin' up the beech. It's shorely a teedious enterprise,
+an' some rough besides. That beech seems as full of spikes an'
+thorns as a honey locust--its a sort o' porkypine of a tree.
+
+"'Which I works my lacerated way into the lower branches, an' then,
+glances up ag'in the firmaments to locate the coon. He ain't vis'ble
+none; he's higher up an' the leaves an' bresh hides him. I goes on
+till I'm twenty foot from the ground; then I looks up ag'in,
+
+"'Gents, it ain't no coon; it's a b'ar, black as paint an' as big as
+a baggage wagon. He ain't two foot above me too; an' the sight of
+him, settin' thar like a black bale of cotton, an' his nearness, an'
+partic'larly a few terse remarks he lets drop, comes mighty clost to
+astonishin' me to death. I thinks of my gun; an' then I lets go all
+bolts to go an' get it. Shore, I falls outen the tree; thar ain't no
+time to descend slow an' dignified.
+
+"'As I comes crashin' along through them beech boughs, it inculcates
+a misonderstandin' among the dogs. Andrew Jackson, Thomas Benton an'
+the others is convoked about that tree on a purely coon theery. They
+expects me to knock the coon down to 'em. They shorely do not expect
+me to come tumblin' none myse'f. It tharfore befalls that when I
+makes my deboo among 'em, them canines, blinded an' besotted as I
+say with thoughts of coon, prounces upon me in a body. Every dog
+rends off a speciment of me. They don't bite twice; they perceives
+by the taste that it ain't no coon an' desists.
+
+"'Which I don't reckon their worryin' me would have become a
+continyoous performance nohow; for me an' the dogs is hardly tangled
+up that a-way, when we're interfered with by the b'ar. Looks like
+the example I sets is infectious; for when I lets go, the b'ar lets
+go; an' I hardly hits the ground an' becomes the ragin' center of
+interest to Andrew Jackson, Thomas Benton an' them others, when the
+b'ar is down on all of us like the old Cumberland on a sandbar
+doorin' a spring rise. I shore regyards his advent that a-way as the
+day of jedgment.
+
+"'No, we don't corral him. The b'ar simply r'ars back long enough to
+put Andrew Jackson an' Thomas Benton into mournin', an' then goes
+scuttlin' off through the bushes like the grace of heaven through a
+camp-meetin'. As for myse'f, I lays thar; an' what between dog an'
+b'ar an' the fall I gets, I'm as completely a thing of the past as
+ever finds refooge in that strip of timber. As near as I makes out
+by feelin' of myse'f, I ain't fit to make gourds out of. Of course,
+she's a mistake on the part of the dogs, an' plumb accidental as far
+as the b'ar's concerned; but it shore crumples me up as entirely as
+if this yere outfit of anamiles plots the play for a month.
+
+"'With the last flicker of my failin' strength, I crawls to my old
+gent's teepee an' is took in. An' you shore should have heard the
+language of that household when they sees the full an' awful extent
+them dogs an' that b'ar lays me waste. Which I'm layed up eight
+weeks.
+
+"'My old gent goes grumblin' off in the mornin', an' rounds up old
+Aunt Tilly Hawks to nurse me. Old Aunt Tilly lives over on the
+Painted Post, an' is plumb learned in yarbs an' sech as Injun
+turnips, opydeldock, live-forever, skoke-berry roots, jinson an'
+whitewood bark. An' so they ropes up Aunt Tilly Hawks an' tells her
+to ride herd on my wounds an' dislocations.
+
+"'But I'm plumb weak an' nervous an' can't stand Aunt Tilly none.
+She ain't got no upper teeth, same as a cow, her face is wrinkled
+like a burnt boot, an' she dips snuff. Moreover, she gives me the
+horrors by allers singin' in a quaverin' way
+
+ "'Hark from the tombs a doleful sound,
+ Mine y'ears attend the cry.
+ Ye livin' men come view the ground
+ Where you shall shortly lie.
+
+"'Aunt Tilly sounds a heap like a tea-kettle when she's renderin'
+this yere madrigal, an' that, an' the words, an' all the rest, makes
+me gloomy an' dejected. I'm shore pinin' away onder these yere
+malign inflooences, when my old gent notes I ain't recooperatin',
+an' so he guesses the cause; an' with that he gives Aunt Tilly a
+lay-off, an' tells her to send along her niece Polly to take her
+place,
+
+"'Thar's a encouragin' difference. Polly is big an' strong like I
+states; but her eyes is like stars, an' she's as full of sweetness
+as a bee tree or a bar'l of m'lasses. So Polly camps down by my
+couch of pain an' begins dallyin' soothin'ly with my heated brow. I
+commences recoverin' from them attacks of b'ars an' dogs instanter.
+
+"'This yere Polly Hawks ain't none new to me. I never co'ts her; but
+I meets her frequent at barn raisin's an' quiltin's, which allers
+winds up in a dance; an' in them games an' merriments, sech as
+"bowin' to the wittiest, kneelin' to the prettiest, an' kissin' the
+one you loves the best," I more than once regyards Polly as an
+alloorin' form of hooman hollyhock, an' selects her. But thar's no
+flush of burnin' love; nothin' nore than them amiable formalities
+which befits the o'casion.
+
+"'While this yere Polly is nursin' me, however, she takes on a
+different attitoode a whole lot. It looks like I begins to need her
+permanent, an' every time I sets my eyes on her I feels as soft as
+b'ar's grease. It's shorely love; that Polly Hawks is as sweet an'
+luscious as a roast apple.'
+
+"'Is she for troo so lovely?' asks Faro Nell, who's been hangin'
+onto Enright's words.
+
+"'Frankly, Nellie,' says Enright, sort o' pinchin' down his bluff;
+'now that I'm ca'mer an' my blood is cool, this yere Polly don't
+seem so plumb prismatic. Still, I must say, she's plenty radiant.'
+
+"'Does you-all,' says Dan Boggs, 'put this yere Polly in nom'nation
+to be your wife while you're quiled up sick? '
+
+"'No, I defers them offers to moments when I'm more robust,' says
+Enright.
+
+"'You shore oughter rode at her while you're sick that a-way,'
+remonstrates Boggs. 'That's the time to set your stack down. Females
+is easy moved to pity, an', as I've heared--for I've nothin' to go
+by, personal, since I'm never married an' is never sick none--is a
+heap more prone to wed a gent who's sick, than when he's well a
+lot.'
+
+"'I holds them doctrines myse'f,' observes Enright; 'however, I
+don't descend on Polly with no prop'sitions, neither then nor final,
+as you-all shall hear, Dan, if you'll only hold yourse'f down. No, I
+continyoos on lovin' Polly to myse'f that a-way, ontil I'm able to
+go pokin' about on crutches; an' then, as thar's no more need of her
+ministrations, Polly lines out for old Aunt Tilly's cabin ag'in.
+
+"'It's at this yere juncture things happens which sort o'
+complicates then dreams of mine. While I ain't been sayin' nothin',
+an' has been plumb reticent as to my feelin's, jest the same, by
+look or act, or mebby it's a sigh, I tips off my hand. It ain't no
+time before all the neighbors is aware of my love for Polly Hawks.
+Also, this Polly has a lover who it looks like has been co'tin' her,
+an' bringin' her mink pelts an' wild turkeys indeescrim'nate, for
+months. I never do hear of this gent ontil I'm cripplin' 'round on
+them stilts of crutches; an' then I ain't informed of him none only
+after he's informed of me.
+
+"'Thar's a measley little limberjaw of a party whose name is Ike
+Sparks; this Ike is allers runnin' about tellin' things an' settin'
+traps to capture trouble for other folks. Ike is a ornery anamile--
+little an' furtif--mean enough to suck aigs, an' cunnin' enough to
+hide the shells. He hates everybody, this Ike does; an' he's as
+suspicious as Bill Johnson's dog, which last is that doubtful an'
+suspicious he shore walks sideways all his life for fear someone's
+goin' to kick him. This low-down Ike imparts to Polly's other lover
+about the state of my feelin's; an' then it ain't no time when I
+gets notice of this sport's existence.
+
+"'It's in the licker room of the tavern at Pine Knot, to which
+scenes I've scrambled on them crutches one evenin', where this party
+first meets up with me in person. He's a big, tall citizen with
+lanky, long ha'r, an' is dressed in a blanket huntin' shirt an' has
+a coon-skin cap with the tail hangin' over his left y'ear. Also, he
+packs a Hawkins rifle, bullets about forty to the pound. For myse'f,
+I don't get entranced none with this person's looks, an' as I ain't
+fit, physical, for no skrimmage, I has to sing plumb low.
+
+"'Thar's a band of us settin' 'round when this lover of Polly's
+shows in the door, drinkin' an' warblin' that entertainin' ditty,
+which goes:"
+
+ "'"Thar sits a dog, by a barn door,
+ An' Bingo is his name, O!
+ An' Bingo is his name."
+
+"'As Polly's other beau comes in, we ceases this refrain. He pitches
+his rifle to the landlord over the bar, an' calls for a Baldface
+whiskey toddy. He takes four or five drinks, contemplatin' us
+meanwhile a heap disdainful. Then he arches his back, bends his
+elbows, begins a war-song, an' goes dancin' stiff-laig like a Injun,
+in front of the bar. This is how this extravagant party sings. It's
+what Colonel Sterett, yere, to whom I repeats it former, calls
+"blanket verse."
+
+"'"Let all the sons of men b'ar witness!" sings this gent, as he
+goes skatin' stiff-laig about in a ring like I relates, arms bent,
+an' back arched; "let all the sons of men b'ar witness; an'
+speshully let a cowerin' varmint, named Sam Enright, size me up an'
+shudder! I'm the maker of deserts an' the wall-eyed harbinger of
+desolation! I'm kin to rattlesnakes on my mother's side; I'm king of
+all the eagles an' full brother to the b'ars! I'm the bloo-eyed lynx
+of Whiskey Crossin', an' I weighs four thousand pounds! I'm a he-
+steamboat; I've put a crimp in a cat-a-mount with nothin' but my
+livin' hands! I broke a full-grown allagator across my knee, tore
+him asunder an' showered his shrinkin' fragments over a full section
+of land! I hugged a cinnamon b'ar to death, an' made a grizzly plead
+for mercy! Who'll come gouge with me? Who'll come bite with me?
+Who'll come put his knuckles in my back? I'm Weasel-eye, the dead
+shot; I'm the blood-drinkin', skelp-t'arin', knife-plyin' demon of
+Sunflower Creek! The flash of my glance will deaden a whiteoak, an'
+my screech in anger will back the panther plumb off his natif heath!
+I'm a slayer an' a slaughterer, an' I cooks an' eats my dead! I can
+wade the Cumberland without wettin' myse'f, an' I drinks outen the
+spring without touchin' the ground! I'm a swinge-cat; but I warns
+you not to be misled by my looks! I'm a flyin' bison, an'
+deevastation rides upon my breath! Whoop! whoop! whoopee! I'm the
+Purple Blossom of Gingham Mountain, an' where is that son of thunder
+who'll try an' nip me in the bud! Whoop! whoopee! I'm yere to fight
+or drink with any sport; any one or both! Whoopee! Where is the
+stately stag to stamp his hoof or rap his antlers to my
+proclamations! Where is that boundin' buck! Whoopee! whoop! whoop!"
+
+"'Then this yere vociferous Purple Blossom pauses for breath; but
+keeps up his stilt-laig dance, considerin' me meanwhile with his
+eye, plenty baleful. We-all on our parts is viewin' him over a heap
+respectful, an' ain't retortin' a word. Then he begins ag'in with a
+yelp that would stampede a field of corn.
+
+"'"Who is thar lovelier than Polly Hawks!" he shouts. "Show me the
+female more entrancin', an' let me drop dead at her feet! Who is
+lovelier than Polly Hawks, the sweetheart of Flyin' Bison, the
+onchained tornado of the hills! Feast your gaze on Polly Hawks; her
+beauty would melt the heart of Nacher! I'm the Purple Blossom of
+Gingham Mountain; Polly Hawks shall marry an' follow me to my
+wigwam! Her bed shall be of b'ar-skins; her food shall be yearlin'
+venison, an' wild honey from the tree! Her gown shall be panther's
+pelts fringed 'round with wolf-tails an' eagles' claws! She shall
+belt herse'f with a rattlesnake, an' her Sunday bonnet shall be a
+swarm of bees! When I kiss her it sounds like the crack of a whip,
+an' I wouldn't part with her for twenty cows! We will wed an'
+pop'late the earth with terror! Where is the sooicide who'll stand
+in my way?"
+
+"'At this p'int the Purple Blossom leaves off dancin' an' fronts up
+to me, personal.
+
+"'"Whoopee!" he says; "say that you don't love the girl an' I'll
+give you one hundred dollars before I spills your life!"
+
+"'Which, of course, all these yere moosical an' terpshicoreen
+preeliminaries means simply so much war between me an' this sperited
+beau of Polly's, to see who'll own the lady's heart. I explains that
+I'm not jest then fit for combat, sufferin' as I be from that
+overabundance of dog an' b'ar. The Purple Blossom is plumb p'lite,
+an' says he don't hunger to whip no cripples. Then he names a day
+two months away when he allows he'll shore descend from Gingham
+Mountain, melt me down an' run me into candles to burn at the
+weddin' of him an' Polly Hawks. Then we drinks together, all
+fraternal, an' he gives me a chew of tobacco outen a box, made of
+the head of a bald eagle, in token of amity, that a-way.
+
+"'But that rumpus between the Purple Blossom an' me never does come
+off; an' them rites over me an' Polly is indef'nitely postponed. The
+fact is, I has to leave a lot. I starts out to commit a joke, an' it
+turns out a crime; an' so I goes streakin' it from the scenes of my
+yoothful frolics for safer stampin' grounds.
+
+"'It's mebby six weeks followin' them declarations of the Purple
+Blossom. It's co't day at War-whoop Crossin', an' the Jedge an'
+every law-sharp on that circuit comes trailin' into camp. This yere
+outfit of Warwhoop is speshul fretful ag'inst all forms of gamblin'.
+Wherefore the Jedge, an' the state's attorney, an' mebby five other
+speculators, at night adjourns to the cabin of a flat-boat which is
+tied up at the foot of the levee, so's they can divert themse'fs
+with a little draw-poker without shockin' the hamlet an' gettin'
+themse'fs arrested an' fined some.
+
+"'It's gone to about fourth drink time after supper, an' I'm
+romancin' about, tryin' to figger out how I'm to win Polly, when as
+I'm waltzin' along the levee--I'm plumb alone, an' the town itse'f
+has turned into its blankets--I gets sight of this yere poker
+festival ragin' in the cabin. Thar they be, antein', goin' it blind,
+straddlin', raisin' before the draw, bluffin', an' bettin', an'
+havin' the time of their c'reers.
+
+"'It's the spring flood, an' the old Cumberland is bank-full an'
+still a-risin'. The flat boat is softly raisin' an' fallin' on the
+sobbin' tide. It's then them jocular impulses seizes me, that a-way;
+an' I stoops an' casts off her one line, an' that flat boat swims
+silently away on the bosom of the river. The sports inside knows
+nothin' an' guesses less, an' their gayety swells on without a
+hitch.
+
+"'It's three o'clock an' Jedge Finn, who's won about a hundred an'
+sixty dollars, realizes it's all the money in the outfit, an' gets
+cold feet plenty prompt. He murmurs somethin' about tellin' the old
+lady Finn he'd be in early, an' shoves back amidst the scoffs an'
+jeers of the losers. But the good old Jedge don't mind, an' openin'
+the door, he goes out into the night an' the dark, an' carefully
+picks his way overboard into forty foot of water. The yell the Jedge
+emits as he makes his little hole in the Cumberland is the first
+news them kyard sharps gets that they're afloat a whole lot.
+
+"'It ain't no push-over rescooin' Jedge Finn that time. The one
+hundred an' sixty is in Mexican money, an' he's got a pound or two
+of it sinkered about his old frame in every pocket; so he goes to
+the bottom like a kag of nails.
+
+"'But they works hard, an' at last fishes him out, an' rolls him
+over a bar'l to get the water an' the money outen him. Which onder
+sech treatment, the Jedge disgorges both, an' at last comes to a
+trifle an' is fed whiskey with a spoon.
+
+"'Havin' saved the Jedge, the others turns loose a volley of yells
+that shorely scares up them echoes far an' wide. It wakes up a
+little old tug that's tied in Dead Nigger Bend, an' she fires up an'
+pushes forth to their relief. The tug hauls 'em back to Warwhoop for
+seventy dollars, which is paid out of the rescooed treasure of Jedge
+Finn, the same bein' declar'd salvage by them bandits he's been
+playin' with.
+
+"'It's two o'clock in the afternoon when that band of gamblers pulls
+up ag'in at Warwhoop, an' they're shorely a saddened party as they
+files ashore. The village is thar in a frownin' an' resentful body
+to arrest 'em for them voylations, which is accordin' done.
+
+"'At the same time, I regyards the play as the funniest, ondoubted,
+that's ever been evolved in Tennessee; but my mood changes as
+subsequent events assoomes a somber face. Old Jedge Finn goes fumin'
+about like a wronged lion, an' the rest is as hot as election day in
+a hornet's nest. Pards, I'm a Mexican! if they don't indict me for
+piracy on the high seas, an' pledge their words to see me hanged
+before ever co't adjourns.
+
+"'That lets me out, right thar! I sees the symptoms of my
+onpop'larity in advance, an' don't procrastinate none. I goes
+sailin' over the divide to the Tennessee, down the Tennessee to the
+Ohio, down the Ohio to the Mississippi, down the Mississippi to the
+Arkansaw, up the Arkansaw to Little Rock; an' thar I pauses,
+exhausted shore, but safe as a murderer in Georgia. Which I never
+does go back for plumb ten years.
+
+"'Nacherally, because of this yere exodus, I misses my engagements
+with the Purple Blossom; also them nuptials I plots about Polly
+Hawks, suffers the kybosh a whole lot. However, I survives, an'
+Polly survives; she an' the Purple Blossom hooks up a month later,
+an' I learns since they shore has offsprings enough to pack a
+primary or start a public school. It's all over long ago, an' I'm
+glad the kyards falls as they do. Still, as I intimates, thar's them
+moments of romance to ride me down, when I remembers my one lone
+love affair with Polly Hawks, the beauty of the Painted Post.'
+
+"Enright pauses, an' we-all sets still a moment out of respects to
+the old chief. At last Dan Boggs, who's always bubblin' that a-way,
+speaks up:
+
+"'Which I'm shore sorry,' says Dan, 'you don't fetch the moosic of
+that Purple Blossom's war-song West. I deems that a mighty excellent
+lay, an' would admire to learn it an' sing it some myse'f. I'd shore
+go over an' carol it to Red Dog; it would redooce them drunkards to
+frenzy."'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+Where Whiskey Billy Died.
+
+
+"Lies in the lump that a-way," said the Old Cattleman, apropos of
+some slight discussion in which we were engaged, "is bad--an' make
+no doubt about it!--that is, lies which is told malev'lent.
+
+"But thar's a sort of ranikaboo liar on earth, an' I don't mind him
+nor his fabrications, none whatever. He's one of these yere amiable
+gents who's merely aimin' to entertain you an' elevate your moods;
+an' carryin' out sech plans, he sort o' spreads himse'f, an' gets
+excursive in conversation, castin' loose from facts as vain things
+onworthy of him. Thar used to be jest sech a mendacious party who
+camps 'round Wolfville for a while--if I don't misrecollect, he gets
+plugged standin' up a through stage, final--who is wont to lie that
+a-way; we calls him 'Lyin' Amos.' But they're only meant to
+entertain you; them stories be. Amos is never really out to put you
+on a wrong trail to your ondoin'.
+
+"We-all likes Amos excellent; but, of course, when he takes to the
+hills as a hold-up, somebody has to down him; an' my mem'ry on that
+p'int is, they shorely do. What for lies would this yere Amos tell?
+Well, for instance, Amos once regales me with a vivid picture of how
+he backs into a corner an' pulls his lonely gun on twenty gents, all
+'bad.' This yere is over in Deming. An' he goes on dilatin' to the
+effect that he stops six of 'em for good with the six loads in his
+weepon, an' then makes it a stand-off on the remainin' fourteen with
+the empty gun.
+
+"'It is the slumberin' terrors of my eye, I reckons,' says this
+Lyin' Amos.
+
+"Which it's reason, an' likewise fact, that sech tales is merest
+figments on their faces; to say nothin' of the hist'ry of that camp
+of Deming, which don't speak of no sech blood.
+
+"But, as I says, what of it? Pore Lyin' Amos!--he's cashed in an'
+settled long ago, like I mentions, goin' for the Wells-Fargo boxes
+onct too frequent! Which the pitcher goes too often to the well,
+that a-way, an' Amos finds it out! Still, Amos is only out to
+entertain me when he onfurls how lucky an' how ferocious he is that
+time at Deming. Amos is simply whilin' the hours away when he
+concocts them romances; an' so far from bein' distrustful of him on
+account tharof, or holdin' of him low because he lets his fancy
+stampede an' get away with him, once we saveys his little game in
+all its harmlessness, it makes Amos pop'lar. We encourages Amos in
+them expansions.
+
+"Speakin' of lyin', an' bein' we're on the subject, it ain't too
+much to state that thar's plenty o'casions when lyin' is not only
+proper but good. It's the thing to do.
+
+"Comin' to cases, the world's been forever basin' its game on the
+lies that's told; an' I reckons now if every gent was to turn in an'
+tell nothin' but the trooth for the next few hours, thar would be a
+heap of folks some hard to find at the close of them mootual
+confidences. Which places now flourishin' like a green bay-tree
+would be deserted wastes an' solitoodes. Yes, as I says, now I gets
+plumb cog'tative about it, sech attempts to put down fiction might
+result in onpreecedented disaster. Thar be times when trooth should
+shorely have a copper on it; but we lets that pass as spec'lative.
+
+"As my mind is led back along the trail, thar looms before the
+mirror of mem'ry a hour when the whole Wolfville outfit quits every
+other game to turn itse'f loose an' lie. Which for once we takes the
+limit off. Not only do we talk lies, we acts 'em; an' Enright an'
+Doc Peets an' Texas Thompson, as well as Moore an' Tutt an' Boggs,
+to say nothin' of myse'f an' Cherokee Hall, an' the rest of the
+round-up, gets in on the play. Which every gent stands pat on them
+inventions to this yere day, disdainin' excooses an' declinin'
+forgiveness tharfor. Moreover, we plays the same system ag'in,
+layout an' deal box bein' sim'lar. The fact is, if ever a outfit's
+hand gets crowded, it's ours.
+
+"The demands for these yere falsehoods has its first seeds one
+evenin' when a drunken party comes staggerin' into camp from Red
+Dog. It's strange; but it looks like Wolfville has a fasc'nation for
+them Red Dog sots; which they're allers comin' over. This victim of
+alcohol is not a stranger to us, not by no means; though mostly he
+holds his revels in his Red Dog home. His name I disremembers, but
+he goes when he's in Wolfville by the name of 'Whiskey Billy.' If he
+has a last name, which it's likely some he has, either we never
+hears it or it don't abide with us. Mebby he never declar's himse'f.
+Anyhow, when he gets his nose-paint an' wearies folks in Wolfville,
+sech proceedin's is had onder the nom de ploome of 'Whiskey Billy,'
+with nothin' added by way of further brands or y'ear-marks tharonto.
+
+"This partic'lar date when he onloads on us his companionship,
+Whiskey Billy is shore the drunkest an' most ediotic I ever sees.
+Troo, he saveys enough to pull his freight from Red Dog; but I
+allers allows that's merely the work of a loocid interval.
+
+"Whiskey Billy ain't brightened Wolfville with his society more'n an
+hour--he only gets one drink with us--when he lapses into them
+treemors. An', you hear me, son, he shorely has 'em bad; Huggins'
+attacks that a-way is pooerile to 'em.
+
+"It looks like that Red Dog whiskey is speshul malignant. I've
+beheld gents who has visions before ever Whiskey Billy emits that
+preelim'nary yelp in the Red Light, an' allows that Black Jack is
+pawin' 'round to skelp him; but I'm yere to remark, an' ready to
+enforce my statements with money, argyments or guns, I never
+witnesses no case which is a four-spot to Whiskey Billy's.
+
+"Why, it gets so before he quits out--which he does after frothin'
+at the mouth for days, an' Boggs, an' Tutt, an' Jack Moore, with Doc
+Peets soopervisin', ridin' herd onto him an' holdin' him down in his
+blankets all the time--that if Whiskey Billy goes to take a drink of
+water, he thinks the beverage turns to blood. If he sees anythin' to
+eat, it changes into a Gila monster, or some sech creepin' an'
+disrepootable reptile; an' Billy jest simply r'ars back an' yells.
+
+"As I intimates, he yields to them errors touchin' his grub an'
+drink for days; followin' which, Billy nacherally gives way to
+death, to the relief of all concerned.
+
+"'You can gamble I'm never so pleased to see a gent die in my life!'
+says Dan Boggs.
+
+"It's most likely the second day after Billy's been seein' things,
+an' we've corraled him in a wickeyup out back of the dance hall,
+when Doc Peets is in the Red Light thoughtfully absorbin' his
+whiskey.
+
+"'This yere riotous patient of mine,' says Peets, as he leans on the
+bar an' talks general an' free to all, 'this noisy party whom you
+now hears callin' Dan Boggs a rattlesnake, bein' misled to that
+extent by Red Dog licker, has a ca'm moment about first drink time
+this mornin', an' beseeches me to send for his mother. As a sick
+gent has a right to dictate terms that a-way, I dispatches a
+telegram to the lady he names, sendin' of the same by Old Monte to
+be slammed through from Tucson. I reckons she gets it by now. Old
+Monte an' the stage has been in Tucson for more'n an hour, an' as
+'lectricity is plenty sudden as a means, I takes it Whiskey Billy's
+mother is informed that he's askin' for her presence.'
+
+"'Which if he's callin' an' honin' for his mother,' says Texas
+Thompson, who's at the bar with Peets, 'it's cattle to sheep he's a
+goner. You can allers tell when a sport is down to his last chip; he
+never omits to want to see his mother.'
+
+"'That's whatever!' says Enright. 'Like Texas, I holds sech desires
+on the part of this yere Red Dog martyr as markin' the beginnin' of
+the end.'
+
+"'Bein' he's plumb locoed,' remarks Pests, after Texas an' Enright
+expresses themse'fs, 'I takes the liberty to rustle them clothes of
+Billy's for signs. I developed letters from this near relatif he's
+clamorin' for; also a picture as shows she's as fine a old lady as
+ever makes a flapjack. From the way she writes, it's all plain an'
+easy he's been sendin' her some rainbows about how he's loomin' up,
+like Slim Jim does his sister that a-way. He's jest now
+industriously trackin' 'round, lookin' to locate himse'f as a
+lawyer. I don't reckon this yere mother has the slightest idee he's
+nothin' more'n a ragged, busted victim of Red Dog. Lookin' at it
+that a-way,' concloodes Pests, 'I'm wonderin' whether I don't make a
+crazy-boss play sendin' this lady them summons.'
+
+"'When she gets here, if she comes,' says Enright, an' his voice
+shows a heap of sympathetic interest; 'when she finds out about
+Whiskey Billy, it's goin' to break her heart. That she ain't game to
+make the trip is shorely to be hoped.'
+
+"'You can gamble a pony she comes,' says Texas. 'If it's a wife,
+now, like mine--which goes ropin' 'round for a divorce over in
+Laredo recent; an', as you-all is aware, she shorely ties it down--
+thar might be a chance out ag'in her advent. But bein' she's his
+mother, Wolfville may as well brace itse'f for the shock.'
+
+"'I don't reckon thar's no doubt of it, neither,' replies Enright,
+drawin' a sigh; 'which bein' the case, we've got to organize. This
+camp must turn in when she gets here an' deloode that pore old
+mother into the belief that her son Billy's been the prop an' stay
+of Arizona, an' that his ontimely cuttin' off quenches the most
+shinin' light that a-way of the age wherein we lives.'
+
+"'Mighty likely,' says Peets, 'we gets a message from her to-morry,
+when Old Monte trails in. That'll tell us what to expect. I'm like
+you-all, however; I don't allow thar's a morsel of doubt about that
+mother comin'.'
+
+"'Which I shorely hopes she does,' says Texas 'an' I yereby drinks
+to it, an' urges every gent likewise. If thar's a thing on earth
+that melts me, it's one o' them gray-ha'red old ladies. Young
+females that a-way is all right, an' it's plenty nacheral for a gent
+to be cur'ous an' pleased tharwith; but I never does track up with
+an old lady, white-ha'red an' motherly mind you, but I takes off my
+sombrero an' says: "You'll excuse me, marm, but I wants to trespass
+on your time long enough to ask your pardon for livin'." That's
+right; that's the way I feels; plumb religious at the mere sight of
+'em. If I was to meet as many as two of 'em at onct, I'd j'ine the
+church. The same bein' troo, I'm sayin' that this yere Whiskey
+Billy's mother can't strike camp too soon nor stop too long for
+Texas Thompson.'
+
+"'Every gent I reckons feels all sim'lar,' says Cherokee Hall. 'A
+old lady is the one splendid thing the Lord ever makes. I knows a
+gent over back of Prescott, an' the sight of a good old woman would
+stop his nose-paint for a week. Wouldn't drink a drop nor play a
+kyard, this party wouldn't, for a week after he cuts the trail of
+somebody's old mother. He allows it revives mem'ries of his own, an'
+that he ain't out to mix no sech visions with faro-bank an' whiskey
+bottles.'
+
+"'An' I applauds this yere Prescott person's views,' says Texas
+Thompson, 'an' would be proud to know the gent.'
+
+"'How long, Peets,' says Enright, who's been thinkin' hard an'
+serious, 'how long--an' start at onct--before ever this yere Whiskey
+Billy's parent is goin' to strike the camp?'
+
+"'It'll be five days shore,' answers Peets. 'She's 'way back yonder
+the other side of the Missouri.'
+
+"When Old Monte comes rumblin' along in next day, thar's the message
+from Whiskey Billy's mother. She's shore a-comin'. This yere Billy
+is so plumb in the air, mental, he never does know it, an' he dies
+ten hours before the old lady drives in. But Wolfville's ready.
+That's the time when the whole band simply suspends everythin' to
+lie.
+
+"Whiskey Billy is arrayed in Doc Peets' best raiment, so, as Peets
+says, he looks professional like a law sharp should. An' bein' as we
+devotes to Billy all the water the windmill can draw in a hour, he
+is a pattern of personal neatness that a-way.
+
+"Enright--an' thar never is the gent who gets ahead of that old
+silver tip--takin' the word from Peets in advance, sends over to
+Tucson for a coffin as fine as the dance-hall piano, an' it comes
+along in the stage ahead of Billy's mother. When she does get thar,
+Billy's all laid out handsome an' tranquil in the dinin'-room of the
+O. K. Restauraw, an' the rest of us is eatin' supper in the street.
+It looks selfish to go crowdin' a he'pless remainder that a-way, an'
+him gettin' ready to quit the earth for good; so the dinin'-room
+bein' small, an' the coffin needin' the space, the rest of us
+vamoses into the causeway, an' Missis Rucker is dealin' us our chuck
+when the stage arrives.
+
+"Thar's a adjournment prompt, however, an' we-all goes over to cheer
+up Whiskey Billy's mother when she gets out. Enright leads off, an'
+the rest trails in an' follows his play, shakin' the old lady's hand
+an' givin' her the word what a success her boy is while he lives,
+an' what a blow it is when he peters. It comes plumb easy, that
+mendacity does, for, as Texas Thompson surmises, she is shorely the
+beautifulest old lady I ever sees put a handkerchief to her eyes.
+
+"'Don't weep, marm,' says Enright. 'This yere camp of Wolfville,
+knowin' Willyum an' his virchoos well, by feelin' its own onmeasured
+loss, puts no bound'ries on its sympathy for you.'
+
+"'Death loves a shinin' mark, marm,' says Doc Peets, as he presses
+the old lady's hand an' takes off his hat, 'an' the same bein' troo,
+it's no marvel the destroyer experiments 'round ontil he gets your
+son Willyum's range. We're like brothers, Willyum an' me, an' from a
+close, admirin' friendship which extends over the year an' a half
+since he leaves you in the States, I'm shore qualified to state how
+Willyum is the brightest, bravest gent in Arizona.'
+
+"An' do you know, son, this yere, which seems a mockery while I
+repeats it now, is like the real thing at the time! I'm a coyote! if
+it don't affect Texas Thompson so he sheds tears; an' Dan Boggs an'
+Tutt an' Moore an' Cherokee Hall is lookin' far from bright about
+the eyes themse'fs.
+
+"We-all goes over to the O. K. House, followin' the comin' of the
+stage, an' leads the old gray mother in to the side of her son, an'
+leaves her thar. Enright tells her, as we turns cat-foot to trail
+out so she won't be pestered by the presence of us, as how Peets'll
+come back in a hour to see her, an' that as all of us'll be jest
+across the street, it'll be plenty easy to fetch us if she feels
+like company. As we starts for the Red Light to get somethin' to
+cheer us up, I sees her where she 's settin' with her arm an' face
+on the coffin.
+
+"It's great work, though, them lies we tells; an' I notes how the
+mother's pride over what a good an' risin' sport her son has been,
+half-way breaks even with her grief.
+
+"Thar is only one thing which happens to disturb an' mar the hour,
+an' not a whisper of this ever drifts to Whiskey Billy's mother.
+She's busy with her sorrow where we leaves her, an' she never hears
+a sound but her own sobs. It's while we're waitin', all quiet an'
+pensif, camped about the Red Light. Another outlaw from Red Dog
+comes cavortin' in. Of course, he is ignorant of our bein' bereaved
+that a-way, but he'd no need to be.
+
+"'Whatever's the matter with you-all wolves yere?' he demands, as he
+comes bulgin' along into the Red Light. 'Where's all your howls?'
+
+"Texas arises from where he's settin' with his face in his hands,
+an' wipin' the emotion outen his eyes, softly an' reverentially
+beats his gun over this yere party's head; whereupon he c'llapses
+into the corner till called for. Then we-all sets down silent an'
+sympathetic ag'in.
+
+"It's the next day when Whiskey Billy takes his last ride over to
+Tucson on a buckboard. A dozen of us goes along, makin' good them
+bluffs about Billy's worth; Enright an' Peets is in the stage with
+the old mother, an' the rest of us on our ponies as a bodygyard of
+honor.
+
+"'An' it is well, marm,' says Enright, as we-all shakes hands, as
+Billy an' his mother is about to leave Tucson, an' we stands b'ar-
+headed to say adios; 'an' death quits loser half its gloom when one
+reflects that while Willyum dies, he leaves the world an' all of us
+better for them examples he exerts among us. Willyum may die, but
+his mem'ry will live long to lead an' guide us.'
+
+"I could see the old mother's eyes shine with pride through her
+tears when Enright says this; an' as she comes 'round an' shakes an'
+thanks us all speshul, I'm shorely proud of Wolfville's chief. So is
+everybody, I reckons; for when we're about a mile out on the trail
+back, an' all ridin' silent an' quiet, Texas ups an' shakes Enright
+by the hand a heap sudden, an' says:
+
+"'Sam Enright, I ain't reported as none emotional, but I'm yours to
+command from now till death, an' yere's the hand an' word of Texas
+Thompson on it.'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+When the Stage Was Stopped.
+
+
+"Camp down into that char thar, son," said the Old Cattleman with
+much heartiness. "Which I'm waitin' for that black boy Tom to come
+back; I sends him for my war-bags. No, I don't need 'em none, only
+I've got to give this yere imbecile Tom money. Them Senegambians is
+shore a pecooliar people. They gets a new religion same as you-all
+gets a new hat, an' they changes their names like some folks does
+their shirt. Which they're that loose an' liable about churches an'
+cognomens!
+
+"As for money, take this boy Tom. He actooally transacts his life on
+the theery that he has prior claims on every splinter of my bank-
+roll. Jest now he descends onto me an' e'labe'rately states his
+title to ten pesos. Says he's done j'ined a new church, an' has been
+made round-up boss or somethin' to a outfit called, 'The Afro-
+American Widows' Ready Relief Society,' an' that his doos is ten
+chips. Of course, he has to have the dinero, so I dismisses him for
+my wallet like I says.
+
+"Does them folks change their names? They changes 'em as read'ly as
+a Injun breaks camp; does it at the drop of the hat. This yere
+Guinea of mine, his name's Tom. Yet at var'ous times, he informs me
+of them mootations he's institooted, He's been 'Jim' an' 'Sam' an'
+'Willyum Henry,' an' all in two months. Shore, I don't pay no heed
+to sech vagaries, but goes on callin' him 'Tom,' jest the same. An'
+he keeps comin' when I calls, too, or I'd shore burn the ground
+'round him to a cinder. I'd be a disgrace to old Tennessee to let my
+boy Tom go preescribin' what I'm to call him. But they be cur'ous
+folks! The last time this hirelin' changes his name, I asks the
+reason.
+
+"'Tom,' I says, 'this yere is the 'leventh time you cinches on a new
+name. Now, tell me, why be you-all attemptin' to shift to "Willyum
+Henry?"'
+
+"'Why, Marse,' he says, after thinkin' hard a whole lot, 'I don't
+know, only my sister gets married ag'in last night, an' I can't
+think of nothin' else to do, so I sort o' allows I'll change my
+name.'"
+
+A moment later the exuberant and many-titled Tom appeared with the
+pocket-book. My old friend selected a ten-dollar bill and with an
+air of severity gave it to his expectant servitor.
+
+"Thar you be," he observed. "Now, go pay them doos, an' don't hanker
+'round me for money no more for a month. You can't will from me
+ag'in before Christmas, no matter how often you changes your name,
+or how many new churches you plays in with. For a nigger, you-all is
+a mighty sight too vol'tile. Your sperits is too tireless, an' stays
+too long on the wing. Which, onless you cultivates a placider mood
+an' studies reepose a whole lot, I'll go foragin' about in my
+plunder an' search forth a quirt, or mebby some sech stinsin' trifle
+as a trace-chain, an' warp you into quietood an' peace. I reckons
+now sech ceremonies would go some ways towards beddin' you down an'
+inculcatin' lessons of patience a heap."
+
+The undaunted Tom listened to his master's gloomy threats with an
+air of cheer. There was a happy grin on his face as he accepted the
+money and scraped a "Thanky, sah!" To leave a religious impression
+which seemed most consistent with the basis of Tom's appeal, that
+dusky claimant of ten dollars, as he withdrew, hummed softly a camp-
+meeting song:
+
+ "Tu'n around an' tu'n yo' face,
+ Untoe them sweet hills o' grace.
+ (D' pow'rs of Sin yo' em scornin'!)
+ Look about an' look aroun',
+ Fling yo' sin-pack on d' groun'.
+ (Yo' will meet wid d' Lord in d' mornin'.)"
+
+"Speakin' about this yere vacillatin' Tom," said the old gentleman,
+as he watched that person disappear, "shiftin' his religious grazin'
+ground that a-way, let me tell you. Them colored folks pulls on an'
+pulls off their beliefs as easy as a Mexican. An' their faith never
+gets in their way; them tenets never seems to get between their
+hocks an' trip 'em up in anythin' they wants to do. They goes
+rangin' 'round, draggin' them religious lariats of theirs, an' I
+never yet beholds that church which can drive any picket pin of
+doctrines, or prodooce any hobbles of a creed, that'll hold a
+Mexican or a nigger, or keep him from prancin' out after the first
+notion that nods or beckons to him. Thar's no whim an' no fancy
+which can make so light a wagon-track he won't follow it off.
+
+"Speakin' of churches that a-way: This yere Tom's been with me
+years. One day about two months ago, he fronts up to me an' says:
+
+"'I'se got to be mighty careful what I does now; I'se done j'ined. I
+gives my soul to heaven on high last night, an' wrops myse'f tight
+an' fast in bonds of savin' grace wid d' Presbyter'an chu'ch. Yes,
+sah, I'm a christian, an' I don't want no one, incloodin' mysc'f, to
+go forgettin' it.'
+
+"This yere news don't weigh on me partic'lar, an' I makes no
+comments. It's three weeks later when Tom cuts loose another
+commoonication.
+
+"'You rec'llects,' he says, 'about me bein' a j'iner an' hookin' up
+wid d' Presbyter'ans? Well, I'se done shook 'em; I quit that
+sanchooary for d' Mefodis.' D' Presbyter'an is a heap too gloomy a
+religion for a niggah, sah. Dey lams loose at me wid foreord'nation
+an' preedest'nation, an' how d' bad place is paved wid chil'ens
+skulls, an' how so many is called, an' only one in a billion beats
+d' gate; an' fin'lly, las' Sunday, B'rer Peters, he's d' preacher,
+he ups an' p'ints at me in speshul an' says he sees in a dream how
+I'm b'ar-hung an' breeze-shaken over hell; an', sah, he simply scare
+dis niggah to where I jest lay down in d' pew an' howl. After I'se
+done lamented till my heart's broke, I passes in my resignation, an'
+now I'se gone an' done attach myse'f to d' Mefodis'. Thar's a deal
+mo' sunshine among d' Mefodis' folks, an' d' game's a mighty sight
+easier. All you does is get sprunkled, an' thar you be, in wid d'
+sheep, kerzip!'
+
+"In less'n a month Tom opens up on them religious topics once more.
+I allers allows him to talk as long an' as much as ever he likes, as
+you-all couldn't stop him none without buckin' an' gaggin' him, so
+what's the use?
+
+"'I aims to excuse myse'f to you, sah,' says Tom this last time,
+'for them misstatements about me leavin' d' Presbyter'ans for d'
+Mefodis.' I does do it for troo, but now I'se gone over, wool an'
+weskit, to d' Baptis'. An', sah, I feels mighty penitent an'
+promisin', I does; I'm gwine to make a stick of it dis time. It's
+resky to go changin' about from one fold to the other like I'se been
+doin'; a man might die between, an' then where is he?'
+
+"'But how about this swap to the Baptist church?' I asks. 'I thought
+you tells me how the Methodist religion is full of sunshine that a-
+way.'
+
+"'So I does, sah,' says Tom; 'so I does, word for word, like you
+remembers it. But I don't know d' entire story then. The objections
+I has to d' Mefodis' is them 'sperience meetin's they holds. They
+'spects you to stan' up an' tell 'em about all yo' sins, an 'fess
+all you've been guilty of endoorin' yo' life! Now, sech doin's tu'ns
+out mighty embarrassin' for a boy like Tom, who's been a-livin' sort
+o' loose an' lively for a likely numbah of years, sah, an' I
+couldn't stan' it, sah! I'm too modes' to be a Mefodis'. So I
+explains an' 'pologizes to d' elders, then I shins out for d'
+Baptis' folks next door. An' it's all right. I'm at peace now: I'm
+in d' Baptis' chu'ch, sah. You go inter d' watah, kersause! an' that
+sets yo' safe in d' love of d' Lamb.'"
+
+Following these revelations of my friend concerning the jaunty
+fashion in which the "boy Tom" wore his religion as well as his
+name, I maintained a respectful silence for perhaps a minute, and
+then ventured to seek a new subject. I had been going over the
+vigorous details of a Western robbery in the papers. After briefly
+telling the story as I remembered it, in its broader lines at least,
+I carried my curiosity to that interesting body politic, the town of
+Wolfville.
+
+"In the old days," I asked, "did Wolfville ever suffer from stage
+robberies, or the operations of banditti of the trail?"
+
+"Wolfville," responded my friend, "goes ag'inst the hold-up game so
+often we lose the count. Mostly, it don't cause more'n a passin'
+irr'tation. Them robberies an' rustlin's don't, speakin' general,
+mean much to the public at large. The express company may gnash its
+teeth some, but comin' down to cases, what is a Wells-Fargo grief to
+us? Personal, we're out letters an' missifs from home, an' I've
+beheld individooals who gets that heated about it you don't dar' ask
+'em to libate ontil they cools, but as'a common thing, we-all don't
+suffer no practical set-backs. We're shy letters, but sech wounds is
+healed by time an' other mails to come. We gains what comfort we can
+from sw'arin' a lot, an' turns to the hopeful footure for the rest.
+Thar's one time, however, when Wolfville gets wrought up.
+
+"Which the Wolfville temper, usual, is ca'm an' onperturbed that a-
+way. Thar's a steadiness to Wolfville that shows the camp has depth;
+it can lose without thinkin' of sooicide, it can win an' not get
+drunk. The Wolfville emotions sets squar' an' steady in the saddle,
+an' it takes more than mere commonplace buckin' to so much as throw
+its foot loose from a stirrup, let alone send it flyin' from its
+seat.
+
+"On this yere o'caslon, however, Wolfville gets stirred a whole lot.
+For that matter, the balance of Southeast Arizona gives way
+likewise, an' excitement is genial an' shorely mounts plumb high. I
+remembers plain, now my mind is on them topics, how Red Dog goes
+hysterical complete, an' sets up nights an' screams. Which the vocal
+carryin's on of that prideless village is a shame to coyotes!
+
+"It's hold-ups that so wrings the public's feelin's. Stages is stood
+up; passengers, mail-bags an' express boxes gets cleaned out for
+their last splinter. An' it ain't confined to jest one trail. This
+festival of crime incloodes a whole region; an' twenty stages, in as
+many different places an' almost as many days, yields up to these
+yere bandits. Old Monte, looks like, is a speshul fav'rite; they
+goes through that old drunkard twice for all thar is in the vehicle.
+The last time the gyard gets downed.
+
+"No, the stage driver ain't in no peril of bein' plugged. Thar's
+rooles about stage robbin', same as thar is to faro-bank an' poker.
+It's onderstood by all who's interested, from the manager of the
+stage company to the gent in the mask who's holdin' the Winchester
+on the outfit, that the driver don't fight. He's thar to drive, not
+shoot; an' so when he hears the su'gestion, 'Hands up!' that a-way,
+he stops the team, sets the brake, hooks his fingers together over
+his head, an' nacherally lets them road agents an' passengers an'
+gyards, settle events in their own onfettered way. The driver,
+usual, cusses out the brigands frightful. The laws of the trail
+accords him them privileges, imposin' no reestrictions on his mouth.
+He's plumb free to make what insultin' observations he will, so long
+as he keeps his hands up an' don't start the team none ontil he's
+given the proper word, the same comin' from the hold-ups or the
+gyards, whoever emerges winner from said emeutes.
+
+"As I states, the last time Old Monte is made to front the iron, the
+Wells-Fargo gyard gets plugged as full of lead as a bag of bullets.
+An' as to that business of loot an' plunder, them miscreants shorely
+harvests a back load! It catches Enright a heap hard, this second
+break which these yere felons makes.
+
+"Cherokee Hall an' me is settin' in the Red Light, whilin' away time
+between bev'rages with argyments, when Enright comes ploddin' along
+in with the tidin's. Cherokee an' me, by a sing'lar coincidence, is
+discussin' the topic of 'probity' that a-way, although our
+loocubrations don't flourish none concernin' stage rustlin'.
+Cherokee is sayin':
+
+"'Now, I holds that trade--what you-all might call commerce, is
+plenty sappenin' to the integrity of folks. Meanin' no aspersions on
+any gent in camp, shorely not on the proprietors of the New York
+Store, what I reiterates is that I never meets up with the party who
+makes his livin' weighin' things, or who owns a pa'r of scales,
+who's on the level that a-way. Which them balances, looks like,
+weaves a spell on a gent's moral princ'ples. He's no longer on the
+squar'.'
+
+"I'm r'ared back on my hocks organizin' to combat the fal'cies of
+Cherokee, when Enright pulls up a cha'r. By the clouds on his face,
+both me an' Cherokee sees thar's somethin' on the old chief's mind a
+lot, wherefore we lays aside our own dispootes--which after all, has
+no real meanin', an' is what Colonel William Greene Sterett calls
+'ac'demic'--an' turns to Enright to discover whatever is up. Black
+Jack feels thar's news in the air an' promotes the nose-paint
+without s'licitation. Enright freights his glass an' then says:
+
+"'You-all hears of the noomerous stage robberies? Well, Wolfville
+lose ag'in. I, myse'f, this trip am put in the hole partic'lar. If I
+onderstands the drift of my own private affairs, thar's over forty
+thousand dollars of mine on the stage, bein' what balance is doo me
+from that last bunch of cattle. It's mighty likely though she's in
+drafts that a-way: an' I jest dispatches one of my best riders with
+a lead hoss to scatter over to Tucson an' wire informations east, to
+freeze onto that money ontil further tidin's; said drafts, if sech
+thar be, havin' got into the hands of these yere diligent hold-ups
+aforesaid.'
+
+"'Forty thousand dollars!' remarks Cherokee. 'Which that is a jolt
+for shore!'
+
+"'It shorely shows the oncertainties of things,' says Enright, ag'in
+referrin' to his glass. 'I'm in the very act of congratulatin'
+myse'f, mental, that this yere is the best season I ever sees, when
+a party rides in from the first stage station towards Tucson, with
+the tale. It's shore a paradox; it's a case where the more I win,
+the more I lose. However, I'm on the trail of Jack Moore; a
+conference with Jack is what I needs right now. I'll be back by next
+drink time;' an' with that Enright goes surgin' off to locate Jack.
+
+"Cherokee an' me, as might be expected, turns our powers of
+conversation loose with this new last eepisode of the trail.
+
+"'An' I'm struck speshul,' says Cherokee, 'about what Enright
+observes at the finish, that it's a instance where the more he wins,
+the more he loses; an' how this, his best season, is goin' to be his
+worst. I has experiences sim'lar myse'f onct. Which the cases is
+plumb parallel!
+
+"'This time when my own individooal game strikes somethin' an'
+glances off, is 'way back. I gets off a boat on the upper river at a
+camp called Rock Island. You never is thar? I don't aim to encourage
+you-all ondooly, still your failure to see Rock Island needn't prey
+on you as the rooin of your c'reer. I goes ashore as I relates, an'
+the first gent I encounters is old Peg-laig Jones. This yere Peg-
+laig is a madman to spec'late at kyards, an' the instant he sees me,
+he pulls me one side, plenty breathless with a plan he's evolved.
+
+"Son," says this yere Peg-lalg, "how much money has you?"
+
+"'I tells him I ain't over strong; somethin' like two hundred
+dollars, mebby.
+
+"'"That's enough," says Peg-lalg. "Son, give it to me. I'll put
+three hundred with it, an' that'll make a roll of five hundred
+dollars. With a careful man like me to deal, she shorely oughter be
+enough."
+
+"'"Whatever does these yere fiscal bluffs of yours portend?" I asks.
+
+"'"They portends as follows," says Peg-laig. "This yere Rock Island
+outfit is plumb locoed to play faro-bank. I've got a deck of kyards
+an' a deal box in my pocket. Son, we'll lay over a day a' break the
+village."
+
+"'Thar's no use tryin' to head off old Peg-laid. He's the most
+invet'rate sport that a-way, an' faro bank is his leadin' weakness.
+They even tells onct how this Peg-laig is in a small camp in Iowa
+an' is buckin' a crooked game. A pard sees him an' takes Peg-laig to
+task.
+
+"'"Can't you-all see them sharps is skinnin' you?" says this friend,
+an' his tones is loaded with disgust. "Ain't you wise enough to know
+this game ain't on the squar', an' them outlaws has a end-squeeze
+box an' is dealin' two kyards at a clatter an' puttin' back right
+onder your ignorant nose? Which you conducts yourse'f like you was
+born last week!"
+
+"'"Of course, I knows the game is crooked," says Peg-laig, plenty
+doleful, "an' I regrets it as much as you. But whatever can I do?"
+
+"'"Do!" says his friend; "do! You-all can quit goin' ag'inst it,
+can't you?"
+
+"'"But you don't onderstand," says Peg-laig, eager an' warm. "It's
+all plumb easy for you to stand thar an' say I don't have to go
+ag'inst it. It may change your notion a whole lot when I informs you
+that this yere is the only game in town," an' with that this
+reedic'lous Peg-laig hurries back to his seat.
+
+"'As I asserts former, it's no use me tryin' to make old Peg-laig
+stop when once he's started with them schemes of his, so I turns
+over my two hundred dollars, an' leans back to see whatever Peg-
+laig's goin' to a'complish next. As he says, he's got a box an' a
+deck to deal with. So he fakes a layout with a suite of jimcrow
+kyards he buys, local, an' a oil-cloth table-cover, an' thar he is
+organized to begin. For chips, he goes over to a store an' buys
+twenty stacks of big wooden button molds, same as they sews the
+cloth onto for overcoat buttons. When Peg-laig is ready, you should
+have beheld the enthoosiasm of them Rock Island folks. They goes
+ag'inst that brace of Peg-laig's like a avalanche.
+
+"'Peg-laig deals for mighty likely it's an hour. Jest as he puts it
+up, he's a careful dealer, an' the result is we win all the big bets
+an' most all the little ones, an' I'm sort o' estimatin' in my mind
+that we're ahead about four hundred simoleons. Of a-sudden, Peg-laig
+stops dealin', up-ends his box and turns to me with a look which
+shows he's plumb dismayed. P'intin' at the check-rack, Peg-laig
+says:
+
+"'"Son, look thar!"
+
+"'Nacherally, I looks, an' I at once realizes the roots of that
+consternation of Peg-laig's. It's this: While thar's more of them
+button molds in front of Peg-laig's right elbow than we embarks with
+orig'nal, thar's still twenty-two hundred dollars' worth in the
+hands of the Rock Island pop'lace waitin' to be cashed. However do
+they do it? They goes stampedin' over to this yere storekeep an'
+purchases 'em for four bits a gross. They buys that vagrant out that
+a-way. They even buys new kinds on us, an' it's a party tryin' to
+bet a stack of pants buttons on the high kyard that calls Peg-laig's
+attention to them frauds.
+
+"'Thar's no he'p for it, however; them villagers is stony an'
+adamantine, an' so far as we has money they shorely makes us pay. We
+walks out of Rock Island. About a mile free of the camp, Peg-laig
+stops an' surveys me a heap mournful.
+
+"'" Son," he says, "we was winnin', wasn't we?
+
+"'"Which we shore was," I replies.
+
+"'"Exactly," says Peg-laig, shakin' his head, "we was shorely
+winners. An' I want to add, son, that if we-all could have kept on
+winnin' for two hours more, we'd a-lost eight thousand dollars."
+
+"'It's like this yere stage hold-up on Enright,' concloodes
+Cherokee; 'it's a harassin' instance of where the more you wins, the
+more you lose.'
+
+"About this time, Enright an' Jack Moore comes in. Colonel Sterett
+an' Dan Boggs j'ines us accidental, an' we-all six holds a pow wow
+in low tones.
+
+"'Which Jack,' observes Enright, like he's experimentin' an' ropin'
+for our views, 'allows it's his beliefs that this yere guileless
+tenderfoot, Davis, who says he's from Buffalo, an' who's been
+prancin' about town for the last two days, is involved in them
+felonies.'
+
+"'It ain't none onlikely,' says Boggs; 'speshully since he's from
+Buffalo. I never does know but one squar' gent who comes from
+Buffalo; he's old Jenks. An' at that, old Jenks gets downed, final,
+by the sheriff over on Sand Creek for stealin' a hoss.'
+
+"'You-all wants to onderstand,' says Jack Moore, cuttin' in after
+Boggs, 'I don't pretend none to no proofs. I jest reckons it's so.
+It's a common scandal how dead innocent this yere shorthorn Davis
+assoomes to be; how he wants Cherokee to explain faro-bank to him;
+an' how he can't onderstand none why Black Jack an' the dance-hall
+won't mix no drinks. Which I might, in the hurry of my dooties, have
+passed by them childish bluffs onchallenged an' with nothin' more
+than pityin' thoughts of the ignorance of this yere maverick, but
+gents, this party overplays his hand. Last evenin' he asks me to let
+him take my gun, says he's cur'ous to see one. That settles it with
+me; this Davis has been a object of suspicion ever since. No, it
+ain't that I allows he's out to queer my weepon none, but think of
+sech a pretence of innocence! I leaves it to you-all, collectif an'
+individooal, do you reckon now thar's anybody, however tender, who's
+that guileless as to go askin' a perfect stranger that a-way to pass
+him out his gun? I says no, this gent is overdoin' them roles. He
+ain't so tender as he assoomes. An' from the moment I hears of this
+last stand-up of the stage back in the canyon, I feels that this
+yere party is somehow in the play. Thar's four in this band who's
+been spreadin' woe among the stage companies lately, an' thar's only
+two of 'em shows in this latest racket which they gives Old Monte,
+an' that express gyard they shot up. Them other two sports who ain't
+present is shore some'ers, an' I gives it as my opinions one of
+'em's right yere in our onthinkin' center, actin' silly, askin'
+egreegious questions, an' allowin' his name is Davis an' that he
+hails from Buffalo.'
+
+"While Jack is evolvin' this long talk, we-all is thinkin'; an',
+son, somehow it strikes us that thar's mighty likely somethin' in
+this notion of Jack's. We-all agrees, however, thar bein' nothin'
+def'nite to go on, we can't do nothin' but wait. Still, pro an' con
+like, we pushes forth in discussion of this person.
+
+"'It does look like this Davis,' says Colonel Sterett, 'now Jack
+brings it up, is shorely playin' a part; which he's over easy an'
+ontaught, even for the East. This mornin', jest to give you-all a
+sample, he comes sidlin' up to me. "Is thar any good fishin' about
+yere?" he asks. "Which I shore yearns to fish some."
+
+"'"Does this yere landscape," I says, wavin' my arm about the
+hor'zon, "remind you much of fish? Stranger," I says, "fish an'
+christians is partic'lar sparse in Arizona."
+
+"'Then this person Davis la'nches out into tales deescriptif of how
+he goes anglin' back in the States. "Which the eel is the gamest
+fish," says this Davis. "When I'm visitin' in Virginny, I used to go
+fishin'. I don't fish with a reel, an' one of them limber poles, an'
+let a fish go swarmin' up an' down a stream, a-breedin' false hopes
+in his bosom an' lettin' him think he's loose. Not me; I wouldn't so
+deloode--wouldn't play it that low on a fish. I goes anglin' in a
+formal, se'f-respectin' way. I uses a short line an' a pole which is
+stiff an' strong. When I gets a bite, I yanks him out an' lets him
+know his fate right thar."
+
+"'"But eels ain't no game fish," I says. "Bass is game, but not
+eels."
+
+"'"Eels ain't game none, ain't they?" says this yere Davis, lettin'
+on he's a heap interested. "You-all listen to me; let me tell you of
+a eel I snags onto down by Culpepper. When he bites that time I
+gives him both hands. That eel comes through the air jest whistlin'
+an' w'irlin'. I slams him ag'inst the great state of Virginny.
+Suppose one of them bass you boasts of takes sech a jolt. Whatever
+would he have done? He'd lay thar pantin' an' rollin' his eyes;
+mebby he curls his tail a little. That would be the utmost of them
+resentments of his. What does my eel do? Stranger, he stands up on
+his tail an' fights me. Game! that eel's game as scorpions! My dog
+Fido's with me. Fido wades into the eel, an' the commotion is awful.
+That eel whips Fido in two minutes, Washin'ton time. How much does
+he weigh? Whatever do I know about it? When he's done put the gaffs
+into Fido, he nacherally sa'nters back into the branch where he
+lives at. I don't get him none; I deems I'm plumb lucky when he
+don't get me. Still, if any gent talks of game fish that a-way, I
+wants it onderstood, I strings my money on that Culpepper eel."'
+
+"'Thar, it's jest as I tells you-all, gents!' says Jack Moore a heap
+disgusted, when Colonel Sterett gets through. 'This yere Davis is a
+imposter. Which thar's no mortal sport could know as little as he
+lets on an' live to reach his age.'
+
+"We sets thar an' lays plans. At last in pursooance of them devices,
+it gets roomored about camp that the next day but one, both Enright
+an' the New York Store aims to send over to Tucson a roll of money
+the size of a wagon hub.
+
+"'Thar's no danger of them hold-ups,' says Enright to this Davis,
+lettin' on he's a heap confidenshul. 'They won't be lookin' for no
+sech riches bein' freighted over slap on the heels of this yere
+robbery. An' we don't aim to put up no gyards alongside of Old Monte
+neither. Gyards is no good; they gets beefed the first volley, an'
+their presence on a coach that a-way is notice that thar's plenty of
+treasure aboard.'
+
+"It's in this way Enright fills that Davis as full of misinformation
+as a bottle of rum. Also, we deems it some signif'cant when said
+shorthorn saddles his hoss over to the corral an' goes skally-
+hootin' for Tucson about first drink time in the mornin'.
+
+"'I've a engagement in the Oriental S'loon,' he says, biddin' us
+good-bye plenty cheerful, 'but I'll be back among you-all sports in
+a week. I likes your ways a whole lot, an' I wants to learn 'em
+some.'
+
+"'Which I offers four to one,' says Jack Moore, lookin' after him as
+he rides away, 'you'll be back yere sooner than that, an' you-all
+won't know it none, at that.'
+
+"It's the next day when the stage starts; Old Monte is crackin' his
+whip in a hardened way, carin' nothin' for road agents as long as
+they don't interfere with the licker traffic. Thar's only one
+passenger.
+
+"Shore enough, jest as it's closin' in some dark in Apache Canyon,
+an' the stage is groanin' an' creakin' along on a up grade, thar's a
+trio of hold-ups shows on the trail, an' the procession comes to a
+halt. Old Monte sets the brake, wrops the reins about it, locks his
+hands over his head, an' turns in to cuss. The hold-ups takes no
+notice. They yanks down the Wells-Fargo chest, pulls off the letter
+bag, accepts a watch an' a pocket-book from the gent inside, who's
+scared an' shiverin' an' scroogin' back in the darkest corner, he's
+that terror-bit, an' then they applies a few epithets to Old Monte
+an' commands him to pull his freight. An' Old Monte shorely obeys
+them mandates, an' goes crashin' off up the canyon on the run.
+
+"Them outlaws hauls the plunder to one side of the trail an' lays
+for the mail-bag with a bowie. All three is as busy as prairy dogs
+after a rain, rippin' open letters an' lookin' for checks an'
+drafts. Later they aims at some op'rations on the express company's
+box.
+
+"But they never gets to the box. Thar's the lively tones of a
+Winchester which starts the canyon's echoes to talkin'. That rifle
+ain't forty foot away, an' it speaks three times before ever you-
+all, son, could snap your fingers. An' that weepon don't make them
+observations in vain. It ain't firin' no salootes. Quick as is the
+work, the sights shifts to a new target every time. At the last, all
+three hold-ups lays kickin' an' jumpin' like chickens that a-way,
+two is dead an' the other is too hard hit to respond.
+
+"Whoever does it? Jack Moore, he's that one shiverin' passenger that
+time. He slides outen the stage as soon as ever it turns the angle
+of the canyon, an' comes scoutin' an' crawlin' back on his prey. An'
+I might add, it shore soothes Jack's vanity a lot, when the first
+remainder shows down as that artless maverick, Davis. Jack lights a
+pine splinter an' looks him over-pale an' dead an' done.
+
+"'Which you-all is the victim of over-play,' says Jack to this yere
+Davis, same as if he hears him, 'If you never asks to see my gun
+that time, it's even money my suspicions concernin' you might be
+sleepin' yet.'"
+
+
+
+
+
+End Project Gutenberg Etext of Wolfville Days, by Alfred Henry Lewis
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOLFVILLE DAYS ***
\ No newline at end of file