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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.06/12/01*END* +[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael S. Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + + + + + +This etext was produced by Charles Franks and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + WOLFVILLE DAYS + </h1> + <h2> + by Alfred Henry Lewis + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. The Great Wolfville Strike. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. The Grinding of Dave Tutt. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. The Feud of Pickles. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. Johnny Florer's Axle Grease. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. Toothpick Johnson's Ostracism. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. The Wolfville Daily Coyote. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. Cherokee Hall Plays Poker. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. The Treachery of Curly Ben </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. Colonel Sterett's Reminiscences </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. How the Dumb Man Rode. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. How Prince Hat Got Help. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. How Wolfville Made a Jest. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. Death; and the Donna Anna. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. How Jack Rainey Quit. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. The Defiance of Gene Watkins. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. Colonel Sterett's War Record. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. Old Man Enright's Love. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. Where Whiskey Billy Died. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. When the Stage Was Stopped. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. The Great Wolfville Strike. + </h2> + <p> + "No, sir, even onder spur an' quirt, my mem'ry can only canter back to one + uprisin' of labor in Wolfville; that was printers." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'Ain't you open rather late?' says the shorthorn. His tones is apol'getic + an' no offence is took. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'What was you-all pleased to remark?' retorts the barkeep as he slams his + nose-paint where the shorthorn can get action. + </p> + <p> + "'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." + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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." + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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'. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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: + </p> + <h3> + RED LIGHT SALOON. + </h3> + <h3> + DEAR COLONEL:— + </h3> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Yours sincerely, BLACK JACK. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'You-all ought never to have printed it, Colonel,' says Peets; 'I'm plumb + chagrined over that exposure of Huggins.' + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "Huggins gazes at Boggs an' never utters a word; Boggs is too many for + him. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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: + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'That's whatever!' says Boggs, coincidin' with the Colonel, though he + ain't none shore as to his drift. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. The Grinding of Dave Tutt. + </h2> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'Which I don't regyard this much,' says one young woman; 'thar's no + thrill into it. Whyever don't they do somethin' excitin'?' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'Whatever do you jump off for?' I asks Steve when he's comin' 'round. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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!' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'"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. + </p> + <p> + "'"Table stakes?" says Steve. "Every chip you've got." + </p> + <p> + "'"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.' + </p> + <p> + "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?" + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'In which event,' says Dave, 'I plays a lone hand." + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'Whatever is his name, then?' I asks. + </p> + <p> + "'Antonio Marino,' says the Eytalian. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'I never sees you,' says the Eytalian. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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.' + </p> + <p> + "'These yere tunes I hears so far,' says Dave, 'is too frivolous; I + figgers that oughter sober 'em down a whole lot.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "When Dave winds up, he goes along the line of them tremblin' towerists, + an' they contreebutes 'leven dollars. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'Where is this yere Dago?' says Franklin. + </p> + <p> + "'However do I know?' says Dave. 'Last I notes of him, he's canterin' off + among the scenery like antelopes.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "Dave grumbles, an' allows Tucson is gettin' a heap too staid for him. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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'. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'Can't we-all beat the game no way?' says Dave. + </p> + <p> + "'Which I shorely don't see how,' says the alcalde. + </p> + <p> + "'Nor me neither,' says Franklin. + </p> + <p> + "'Whatever is the matter with counter-brandin' them tunes over to Merino's + license?' says Dave. + </p> + <p> + "'Can't do it nohow,' says the alcalde. + </p> + <p> + "'Well, is this yere ord'nance accordin' to Hoyle an' the Declaration of + Independence?' says Dave. 'I don't stand it none onless.' + </p> + <p> + "'Shore!' says the alcalde. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. The Feud of Pickles. + </h2> + <p> + "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: + </p> + <p> + "'Jack, you minds that old Navajo you downs over on the San Simon last + Fall?'" + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "Which it's mighty soon when Pickles comes along where we be. + </p> + <p> + "'Hello, Jack,' he says, an' his manner is insultin'; 'been makin' it + smoky down on the old San Simon lately?' + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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'. + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "When Enright vouchsafes this warnin', Pickles swings down an' leaves his + pony standin', an' comes over. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'An' then, Jack,' he says, 'I wants you to come feed with me. I'll have + Missis Rucker burn us up something right.' + </p> + <p> + "'I'll go you,' says Jack, 'if it ain't nothin' but salt hoss.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'It don't look like Pickles is hungry none,' says Jack. + </p> + <p> + "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'! + </p> + <p> + "'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.'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. Johnny Florer's Axle Grease. + </h2> + <p> + 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: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Dogville, Dogville! + A tavern an' a still, + That's all thar is in all Dog-ville." +</pre> + <p> + "How do you feel to-day?" I asked as I took a chair near the venerable + musician. "Happy and healthy, I trust?" + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + "You are a singer, I observe." + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +"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!) +</pre> + <p> + "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: + </p> + <p> + "'Which it's shorely a set-back America has no poets,' says he. + </p> + <p> + "'It's evident,' I says, 'that you never hears of Mollie Hines.' + </p> + <p> + "'No, never once,' he replies; 'is this yere Miss Hines a poet?' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "Whoever is them far-off folks you-all was tellin' me is related to + Injuns?" + </p> + <p> + "The Japanese." I replied. "Undoubtedly the Indians and the Japanese are + of the same stock." + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + "And how was that?" I asked. + </p> + <p> + The afternoon was lazy and good, and I in a mood to listen to my rambling + grey comrade talk of anybody or anything. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "How far is it to a place where I can camp down for the night?' asks Bill. + </p> + <p> + "'It's about twenty miles to the next wickeyup,' says the soopercilious + gent. + </p> + <p> + "'Which I can't make it none to-night, then,' says Bill. + </p> + <p> + "'Not on that hoss,' says the soopercilious gent, for Bill's pony that + a-way is plenty played. + </p> + <p> + "'Mebby, then,' says Bill, ` I'd better bunk in yere.' + </p> + <p> + "'You can gamble you-all don't sleep yere,' says the soopercilious gent; + 'none whatever!' + </p> + <p> + 'An' why not?' asks Bill. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'But I'll have to sleep on these yere plains,' says Bill a heap plaintif. + </p> + <p> + "'Thar's better sports than you-all slept on them plains,' says the + soopercilious gent. + </p> + <p> + "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: + </p> + <p> + "'Is your name Rawlins?' + </p> + <p> + "'Yes, sir, my name's Rawlins,' says the soopercilious gent. + </p> + <p> + "'Jim Rawlins of Roanoke?' + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'Jim,' says Bill, sort o' scared like, 'whoever is this yere lady who's + roamin' the scene?' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'Then come down yere an' ride herd on the play yourse'f, you murderin' + sot!' says French. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'That's whatever!' says Jack Moore, 'an' onless Old Monte is thirstin' + for trouble in elab'rate forms, he acquiesces tharin.' + </p> + <p> + "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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'How is my father?' says Johnny in Osage. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'Whatever is the matter with this savage?' I asks of Johnny. + </p> + <p> + "'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!' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "At this, Johnny passes his 'father' over a double handful of black pepper + before it's ground. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. Toothpick Johnson's Ostracism. + </h2> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "What does Toothpick do that time we-all disapproves an' stampedes him? + It's a accidental killin'. + </p> + <p> + "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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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'. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, he's dead enough; never does kick or flutter once. It's shorely a + shot in the cross. + </p> + <p> + "`Do you-all note how he tries to fill his hand on me?' asks Toothpick, + mighty cheerful. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'He warn't heeled!' says Toothpick, straightenin' up an' lookin' at us + apol'getic an' disgusted. + </p> + <p> + "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: + </p> + <p> + "'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." + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. The Wolfville Daily Coyote. + </h2> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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." + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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! + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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: + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Samuel Johnson Enright, a namesake of the great lexicographer, and + the Lycurgus of Wolfville, paid a visit to Tucson last week. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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: + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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: + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'Oh, we ain't apprehensif none,' says Cherokee an' Jack; 'you can shorely + look for us.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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: + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + 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.'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. Cherokee Hall Plays Poker. + </h2> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'Gamblin' is immoral that a-way,' says these yere sports. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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! + </p> + <p> + "'That's what I says,' replies Cherokee, some sullen. + </p> + <p> + "`I goes you,' says the avaricious gent, showin' a pa'r of kings. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "`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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "All at once Cherokee braces up mighty savage, like he's ugly an' + desp'rate about his bad luck. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "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: + </p> + <p> + "'That last raise over-sizes me.' + </p> + <p> + "`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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. The Treachery of Curly Ben + </h2> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + "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?" + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + "You are very loyal to the West," I remarked. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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?' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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? + </p> + <p> + "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: + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "'Have you-all got the other thousand ready,' says Curly Ben. 'in the + event I do?' + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'Well, I don't get him,' says Curly Ben ca'mly, settin' his glass on the + bar. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "'C'rrect; every word,' says Curly Ben, lightin' a seegyar an then leanin' + his elbows on the bar, a heap onmoved. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'But what be you aimin' to do?' asks Moon. + </p> + <p> + "'What be you aimin' to do?' responds Curly Ben. As I states, he's shore + the most ornery coyote! + </p> + <p> + "'I don't onderstand,' says Moon. + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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! + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'One for jack!' says Curly, turnin' that fav'rite kyard. Moon sort o' + drifts to his r'ar. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. Colonel Sterett's Reminiscences + </h2> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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'.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'"Lay for him, Augustus!" I'd say, at the same instant battin' him in the + nose with the box. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'Where's this yere Augustus now?' asks Dan Boggs, who's got all wropped + up in the Colonel's narratifs. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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: + </p> + <p> + "'" Whatever is this yere ringin'?" + </p> + <p> + "'"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." + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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." + </p> + <p> + "'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! + </p> + <p> + "'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: + </p> + <p> + "'"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." + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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!' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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." + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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!" + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'"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." + </p> + <p> + "'"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." + </p> + <p> + "'" 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." + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'" 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." + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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: + </p> + <p> + "'"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. + </p> + <p> + "'"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!"'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. How the Dumb Man Rode. + </h2> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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'?" + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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'. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'However is prayin' that a-way onconsistent, I'd shorely like to know?' + says Tutt, stackin' in ag'in Texas plenty scornful. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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—' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'Which I shorely don't,' says Texas. 'You don't aim to tell me none he's + done got away with my pinto hoss?' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'Hands up,' says Texas, gettin' the drop as we swings up on the deef an' + dumb foogitive. + </p> + <p> + "But thar's no need of sech preecautions, as the dumb party ain't packin' + no weepons—not so much as a knife. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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: + </p> + <p> + "'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.'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. How Prince Hat Got Help. + </h2> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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?" + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +"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." +</pre> + <p> + Tom smiled toothfully, yet in confident fashion, as one who knows his + master and is not afraid. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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!' + </p> + <p> + "'I'm awake,' says Grief. + </p> + <p> + "'Well, why don't you get outen the rain?' + </p> + <p> + "'I'm all wet now an' the rain don't do no hurt,' says Grief. + </p> + <p> + "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: + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'Water won't hurt the wood none,' says Grief. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'See yere, Harris!' says East, that a-way. + </p> + <p> + "Tom wheels, an' is lookin' into the mouth of East's six-shooter not a + yard off. + </p> + <p> + "'Put up your hands!' says East. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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."' + </p> + <p> + "Jest as Black Jack gets that far in them statements, this yere tenderfoot + shows in the door. + </p> + <p> + "'Be you a resident of Wolfville?' asks this shorthorn of Dave Tutt. + </p> + <p> + "'I'm one of the seven orig'nal wolves,' says Tutt. + </p> + <p> + "'Yere's my kyard,' says the shorthorn, an' he beams on Dave in a wide an' + balmy way. + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'Did you-all come through Tucson with this name?' asks Dave. + </p> + <p> + "He says he does. + </p> + <p> + "'An' wasn't nothin' said or done about it?' demands Dave; 'don't them + Tucson sports take no action?' + </p> + <p> + "He says nothin' is done. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "The shorthorn mentions a week. + </p> + <p> + "'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."' + </p> + <p> + "'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."' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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?" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. How Wolfville Made a Jest. + </h2> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'Never mind about arrangin' nothin',' says Shotgun; 'I quits you after + the next drink; which libation I takes alone.' An' Shotgun rides away. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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!' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'Thar you be!' says Dowling. 'I reckons' now the warrant gets to him + ahead of the lead; which makes it on the level.' + </p> + <p> + "Tharupon Shotgun canters out an' busts his gent—warrant, lead an' + all—an' that gives him the name of 'Shotgun' Dowling. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'Gimme a cocktail,' says this Signal person to the barkeep. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'Can't mix no drinks,' says Black Jack. + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "'Nary contouse,' says Black Jack, moppin' of the bar complacent. 'Not a + soo markee. That drink's on the house, stranger.' + </p> + <p> + "When this Signal sharp goes out, Enright says he's got pore manners, an' + he marvels some he's still walkin' the earth. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'How's this yere?' says Texas, shakin' back his long ha'r. An' he shorely + looks hardened, that a-way. + </p> + <p> + "'How's what?' says the Signal man, who's astonished to death. + </p> + <p> + "'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! + </p> + <p> + "'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!' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'But I can't fight none,' says the Signal party. 'It's ag'in the rooles + an' reg'lations of the army.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "Tutt an' Boggs have got their brands onto mebby two drinks, when over + comes Doc Peets, lookin' deadly dignified an' severe, an' says: + </p> + <p> + "'Who-all represents yere for this gent who's out for the blood of my + friend, Texas Thompson?' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "'Make it across a blanket,' says Tutt. + </p> + <p> + "'An' fold the blanket,' breaks in Boggs. + </p> + <p> + "'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."' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "As Doc Peets comes out a-leadin' of Texas, it's noticed that Texas has + got a tin cup. + </p> + <p> + "'Whatever's your gent a-packin' of that yootensil for?' demands Tutt, + mighty truculent. 'Is this yere to be a combat with dippers?' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'Well, we challenges the dipper,' says Tutt. 'You-all will fight on the + squar', or we removes our gent.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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: + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "'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'.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'I proposes a handkerchief,' says Peets; 'but Tutt objects on the grounds + that his man's got heart palp'tations or somethin'.' + </p> + <p> + "'You're a liar,' yells Tutt; 'our gent's heart's as solid as a sod + house.' + </p> + <p> + "'What do I hear?' shouts Peets. 'You calls me a liar?' + </p> + <p> + "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: + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'Hands up yere!' he says, sharp an' brief; 'or I provides the coyotes + with meat for a month to come.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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: + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "'Which I never refooses once,' says the Signal party; 'I salootes this + Texas gent with pleasure, if that's what he needs.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'Same yere,' says Doc Peets, also shakin' of the Signal party's hand, + which is sort o' limp an' cheerless. + </p> + <p> + "However, we rips off his hobbles, an' then the outfit steers over to the + Red Light to be regaled after all our hard work. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'That's whatever,' says Dave Tutt; 'an' I fills my cup in approval, you + can gamble, of them observations.'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. Death; and the Donna Anna. + </h2> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + And my friend produced from some recess of a gigantic pocketbook a card + whereon the learned Peets had written oxytropis Lamberti. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'Is it a love story, Daddy Enright?' asks Faro Nell, all eager, an' + bendin' towards Enright across the layout. + </p> + <p> + "'It shows brands an' y'ear marks as sech, Nellie,' says Enright; 'love + an' loco makes up the heft of it.' + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'Whatever does he lay down on you-all like that for?' says Faro Nell. + 'Couldn't a soldier be a christian, Daddy Enright?' + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "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?" + </p> + <p> + "'"Both Baptis'," says the barkeep. + </p> + <p> + "'"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?" + </p> + <p> + "'"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." + </p> + <p> + "'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.'" + </p> + <p> + "What's pulque?" I interjected. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'Nothin' much is thought by the Pine Knot Cavaliers of an' concernin' the + attitoodes of Spencer an' the Donna Anna touchin' one another. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'"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." + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'"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." + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'"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. + </p> + <p> + "'" 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. + </p> + <p> + "'" 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."'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. How Jack Rainey Quit. + </h2> + <p> + "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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'" 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." + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +"'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.' +</pre> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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." + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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." + </p> + <p> + "'"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?" + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'"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." + </p> + <p> + "'"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." + </p> + <p> + "'"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." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "'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.'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. The Defiance of Gene Watkins. + </h2> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'Do you-all hear them hound-clogs a-mournin' an' a-bayin' last evenin'?' + asked Boggs of Enright. + </p> + <p> + "'Shore! I hears 'em,' says Enright. + </p> + <p> + "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?' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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." + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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!"' + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'I catches your eye,' says Cherokee, a heap pleased, as he p'litely + caroms his glass ag'in Thompson's. + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.'" + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "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?" + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + "Let me hear about this Watkins," I urged; "no one is more interested in + the doings of Providence than I." + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "In the days of old, the days of gold, + The days of forty-nine! +</pre> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'What be you-all tryin' to do with this diva?' demands Moore of the + Watkins party. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "Thar's a moment of silence followin'; an' then this yere ontamed Watkins, + tossin' his hand at the sky, shouts out: + </p> + <p> + "'Blaze away! my gray-head creator! You-all has been shootin' at me for + twenty years; you ain't hit me yet!' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'Pull your freight,' roars Boggs; 'don't you stay near me none. Get, or + I'll give you every load in the gun.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. Colonel Sterett's War Record. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'"Bars an' buffaloes!" says my grandfather; "whatever's that?" + </p> + <p> + "'"Lay still, stranger," says the party who smites him; "I've only got two + to go." + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'"High, jack, game!" says the stranger, countin' up; "that puts me out + an' one over for lannyap." + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'"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." + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'"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." + </p> + <p> + "'"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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'"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." + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'"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." + </p> + <p> + "'But Gen'ral Jackson when he comes back from offerin' condolences to the + lady, looks dignified an' shakes his head a heap grave. + </p> + <p> + "'"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." + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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: + </p> + <p> + "'"An' grandson Willyum, five gallons more of rum would have made that + convention yoonanimous. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'"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?" + </p> + <p> + "'"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." + </p> + <p> + "'"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. + </p> + <p> + "'"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." + </p> + <p> + "'Tharupon my grandfather takes his hand offen the knife-haft, an' + Witherspoon branches forth: + </p> + <p> + "'"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.' + </p> + <p> + "'"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!" + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'"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." + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'"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."' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + '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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Their stay in any given spot is trooly brief. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "'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: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In camp with Stonewall Jackson. + Respected Sir: +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +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. +</pre> + <p> + "'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! + </p> + <p> + "'"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." + </p> + <p> + "'As me an' Jeff reepairs up to the house, I notes the most + renegade-lookin' nigger followin' behind. + </p> + <p> + "'"Whoever's dis yere nigger?" I asks. + </p> + <p> + "'"He's my valet," says Jeff. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'However does this Gen'ral Wheeler save you?' asks Dan Boggs. 'Which I'm + shore eager to hear.' + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'" See yere, Bud," he says, "hold my hoss a minute while I sees if I + can't burn this stockade." + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'" 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." + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'"Say, Mister," I pleads, "why can't you-all take me with you?" + </p> + <p> + "'" Which you're a lot too young, son," says the reb, takin' another + size-up of the Yanks. + </p> + <p> + "'" I ain't so young as I looks," I argues; "I'm jest small of my age." + </p> + <p> + "'" 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." + </p> + <p> + "'"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." + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'" Look yere, boy," he says, "do you know who our Gen'ral is?" + </p> + <p> + "'"No," I says, "I don't." + </p> + <p> + "'"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.'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. Old Man Enright's Love. + </h2> + <p> + "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," + </p> + <p> + "Was Groggins a great conversationist?" I asked. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'My brother Abe,' says this yere scand'lous Vance that a-way, 'jest + nacherally wins the kyarpets off Whitey Bob's floor.' + </p> + <p> + "Son, it's simple egreegious the way this Vance carries on in them fool + rev'lations touchin' his brother Abe. + </p> + <p> + "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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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!" + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + Meedic'nal,' says Peets. 'In extreme cases, sobriety is plenty cooratif.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "'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!' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + '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'. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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, + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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 + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "'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. +</pre> + <p> + "'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, + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'Is she for troo so lovely?' asks Faro Nell, who's been hangin' onto + Enright's words. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'Does you-all,' says Dan Boggs, 'put this yere Polly in nom'nation to be + your wife while you're quiled up sick? ' + </p> + <p> + "'No, I defers them offers to moments when I'm more robust,' says Enright. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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:" + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "'"Thar sits a dog, by a barn door, + An' Bingo is his name, O! + An' Bingo is his name." +</pre> + <p> + "'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." + </p> + <p> + "'"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!" + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'"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?" + </p> + <p> + "'At this p'int the Purple Blossom leaves off dancin' an' fronts up to me, + personal. + </p> + <p> + "'"Whoopee!" he says; "say that you don't love the girl an' I'll give you + one hundred dollars before I spills your life!" + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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: + </p> + <p> + "'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."' + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. Where Whiskey Billy Died. + </h2> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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'. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'It is the slumberin' terrors of my eye, I reckons,' says this Lyin' + Amos. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'You can gamble I'm never so pleased to see a gent die in my life!' says + Dan Boggs. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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'.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'An' I applauds this yere Prescott person's views,' says Texas Thompson, + 'an' would be proud to know the gent.' + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "'It'll be five days shore,' answers Peets. 'She's 'way back yonder the + other side of the Missouri.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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: + </p> + <p> + "'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.'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. When the Stage Was Stopped. + </h2> + <p> + "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! + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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?"' + </p> + <p> + "'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.'" + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "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'.)" +</pre> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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: + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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!' + </p> + <p> + "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? + </p> + <p> + "'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?' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.'" + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "In the old days," I asked, "did Wolfville ever suffer from stage + robberies, or the operations of banditti of the trail?" + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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! + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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': + </p> + <p> + "'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'.' + </p> + <p> + "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: + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'Forty thousand dollars!' remarks Cherokee. 'Which that is a jolt for + shore!' + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "Cherokee an' me, as might be expected, turns our powers of conversation + loose with this new last eepisode of the trail. + </p> + <p> + "'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! + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "Son," says this yere Peg-lalg, "how much money has you?" + </p> + <p> + "'I tells him I ain't over strong; somethin' like two hundred dollars, + mebby. + </p> + <p> + "'"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." + </p> + <p> + "'"Whatever does these yere fiscal bluffs of yours portend?" I asks. + </p> + <p> + "'"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." + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'"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!" + </p> + <p> + "'"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?" + </p> + <p> + "'"Do!" says his friend; "do! You-all can quit goin' ag'inst it, can't + you?" + </p> + <p> + "'"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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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: + </p> + <p> + "'"Son, look thar!" + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'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. + </p> + <p> + "'" Son," he says, "we was winnin', wasn't we? + </p> + <p> + "'"Which we shore was," I replies. + </p> + <p> + "'"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." + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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." + </p> + <p> + "'"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." + </p> + <p> + "'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." + </p> + <p> + "'"But eels ain't no game fish," I says. "Bass is game, but not eels." + </p> + <p> + "'"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."' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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'. + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "'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.' + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "'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.'" + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + End Project Gutenberg Etext of Wolfville Days, by Alfred Henry Lewis +</pre> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + </body> +</html> diff --git a/old/3667.txt b/old/3667.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9353a4a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/3667.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8801 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of Wolfville Days, by Alfred Henry Lewis + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the laws for your country before redistributing these files!!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. + +Please do not remove this. + +This should be the first thing seen when anyone opens the book. +Do not change or edit it without written permission. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.06/12/01*END* +[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael S. Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + + + + + +This etext was produced by Charles Franks and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + +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 + diff --git a/old/3667.zip b/old/3667.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9bd1c83 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/3667.zip |