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 backto one uprisin' of labor in Wolfville; that was printers. "

At this the Old Cattleman looked unduly sagacious, refreshed himselfwith a puff or two at his pipe, and all with the air of one whomight, did he see fit, consider the grave questions of capital andlabor with an ability equal to their solution. His remark was growthof the strike story of some mill workmen, told glaringly in thenewspaper he held in his hands. 

"Wolfville is not at that time, " he continued, "what you-all Eastwould 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'larhives of commerce. Which ondoubted the barkeeps is the hardestworked folks in camp, an' yet none of 'em ever goes on the warpathfor shorter hours or longer pay, so far as I has notice. Barkeepsthat 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 shorthornwho arrives with him as a passenger comes edgin' into the Red Light. Bein' it's four o'clock in the mornin', the tenderfoot seems amazedat sech activities as faro-bank, an' high-ball, said devices bein'in full career; to say nothin' of the Dance Hall, which 'Temple ofMirth, ' 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 isapol'getic an' no offence is took. 

"That's one of them gratefyin' things about the Southwest. Thattemperate region don't go pirootin' 'round strivin' to run its brandonto things as insults where none ain't meant. The Southwest ropesonly at the intention. You may even go so far as to shoot the wronggent in a darkened way, an' as long as you pulls off the play in asperit of honesty, an' the party plugged don't happen to be apop'lar idol, about the worst you'd get would be a caution from theStranglers to be more acc'rate in your feuds, sech is thefairmindedness an' toleration of Southwest sentiment. 

"As I su'gests, the barkeep, realizin' that the stranger's bluffarises from cur'osity rather than any notion of what booksportscalls 'captious criticism, ' feels no ombrage. 

"'What was you-all pleased to remark?' retorts the barkeep as heslams 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 isopen rather late. "

"'Which she is some late, ' admits the barkeep, as he softly swabsthe counter; 'which it is some late for night before last, but it'sjest the shank of the evenin' for to-night. '

"But, as I observes a bit back on the trail, I never do hear of anymurmur of resentment on the part of the toilin' masses of the town, save in the one instance when that bunch of locoed printers capersout an' defies the editor an' publisher of the Wolfville COYOTE, thesame bein' the daily paper of the outfit. 

"This yere imprint, the COYOTE, is done owned an' run by ColonelWilliam Greene Sterett. An' I'll pause right yere for the doublepurpose of takin' a drink an' sympathisin' with you a whole lot innot knowin' the Colonel. You nacherally ain't as acootely aware ofthe fact as I be, but you can gamble a bloo stack that not knowin'Colonel Sterett borders on a deeprivation. He is shore wise, theColonel is, an' when it comes to bein' fully informed on everyp'int, from the valyoo of queensup before the draw to the politicaleffect of the Declaration of Independence, he's an even break withDoc Peets. An' as I've asserted frequent--an' I don't pinch down achip--Doc Peet's is the finest eddicated sharp in Arizona. 

"We-all will pass up the tale at this crisis, but I'll tell youlater about how Colonel Sterett comes a-weavin' into Wolfville thattime an' founds the Coyote. It's enough now to know that when theseyere printers takes to ghost-dancin' that time, the Colonel has beenin our midst crowdin' hard on the hocks of a year, an' is held inhigh 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 asWolfville 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 BirdCage Op'ry House, an' who as I've allers maintained, incites themmechanics, private, to rebellion, as a scheme of revenge on theColonel. The trouble which bears its final froote in this laboruprisin' is like this. Huggins, as noted, holds down the Bird CageOp'ry House as manager, an' when lie's drunk--which, seein' thatHuggins is a bigger sot than Old Monte, is right along he allowshe'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 hisgame. 

"'A Impressario is a fiddler, ' says Boggs; `I cuts the trail of onein the States once, ropes him up, an' we has a shore enough time. '

"'Sech observations, ' observes Tutt, to whom Boggs vouchsafes thisinformation, 'sech observations make me tired. They displays theonlimited ability for ignorance of the hooman mind. Boggs, I don'twant to be deemed insultin', but you-all oughter go to night-schoolsome'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 offin the smoke if he hadn't, in his capacity of marshal, pulled hissix-shooter an' invoked Boggs an' Tutt to a ca'mer mood. 

"But speakin' of this Huggins party, I never likes him. Aside fromhis bein' mostly drunk, which, no matter what some may say or think, I holds impairs a gent's valyoo as a social factor, Huggins isavaricious an' dotes on money to the p'int of bein' sordid. He'dgloat 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 pleasureof his company than if he's a wet dog. Still, thar's sech a thing asdooty; so, when Huggins comes wanderin' wild-eyed into the Red Lightabout first drink time one evenin', an' confides to me in a whisperthat thar's a jack rabbit outside which has sworn to take his life, an' is right then bushwhackin' about the door waitin' to execootethe threat, I calls Doc Peets, an' aids in tyin' Huggins down sothat his visions can be met an' coped with medical. 

"Peets rides herd on Huggins for about a week, an' at last effectshis rescoo from that hostile jack rabbit an' them crimsonrattlesnakes an' blue-winged bats that has j'ined dogs with it inits 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 tohis professional standin'. 

"'An' you all don't owe me a splinter, Huggins, ' says Peets, as heturns down the prop'sition to take whiskey checks as his reward. 'We'll jest call them services of mine in subdooin' your deliriumtreemors a contreebution. It should shorely be remooneration enoughto know that I've preserved you to the Wolfville public, an' thatthe 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 makesa moccasin track in the South-west. An' while Huggins ain't pleasednone, them strictures has to go. To take to pawin' 'round forturmoil with Peets would be encroachin' onto the ediotic. Even if heemerges alive from sech controversies--an' it's four to one hewouldn't; for Peets, who's allers framed up with a brace ofderringers, 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'sremarks. 

"No; of course Doc Peets ain't that diffusive in his confidences asto go surgin' about tellin' this story to every gent he meets. It'sag'in roole for physicians that a-way to go draggin' their lariats'round permiscus an' impartin' all they knows. You-all can seeyourse'f that if physicians is that ingenuous, it would prodooce allsorts of troubles in the most onlooked-for places an' mostonexpected forms. No; Peets wouldn't give way to conduct soonbecomin' a medicine man an' a sport. But rooles has theirexceptions; an so Feets, in one of them moments of sympathy an'confidence, which two highly eddicated gents after the eighth drinkis bound to feel for each other, relates to Colonel Sterettconcernin' Huggins an' his perfidy with them Bird Cage checks. 

"This yere onbosomin' of himse'f to the Colonel ain't none discreetof Peets. The Colonel has many excellencies, but keepin' secretsain't among 'em; none whatever. The Colonel is deevoid of talentsfor secrets, an' so the next day he prints this yere outrage onder aderisive headline touchin' Huggins' froogality. 

"Huggins don't grade over-high for nerve an' is a long way frombein' clean strain game; but he figgers, so I allers reckons, thatthe Colonel ain't no thunderbolt of war himse'f, so when he reads asto him an' Peets an' them treemors an' the whiskey checks, he startsin to drink an' discuss about his honor, an' gives it out he'll haverevenge. 

"It's the barkeep at the Red Light posts Colonel Sterett as to themperils. A Mexican comes trackin' along into the Colonel's room inthe second story--what he calls his 'sanctum'--with a note. It'sfrom 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 keephim here an hour. Meanwhile, heel yourse'f. I'll have him so drunkby 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 leetlenervous it don't make no difference. B. J. 

"About the time the 10-gauge comes over to the Colonel, with thecompliments of the Wells-Fargo Express, an' twenty shells holdin'twenty-one buck-shot to the shell, Doc Peets himse'f comessa'nterin' into the sanctum. 

"'You-all ought never to have printed it, Colonel, ' says Peets; 'I'mplumb chagrined over that exposure of Huggins. '

"'Don't you reckon, Doc, ' says the Colonel, sort o' coaxin' theplay, 'if you was to go down to the Red Light an' say to thisinebriated miscreant that you makes good, it would steady him down awhole 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; itwould hurt my p'sition. On the level! Colonel, I'd a mighty sightsooner you'd beef Huggins. '

"'But see yere, Doc, ' remonstrates the Colonel, wipin' off the wateron 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 atLeavenworth 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 thoughtsis 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 carpat that a little bit. Besides, he's that ornery, the game law is outon 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 thesecond he shows in the door. It's as plain as monte. Before Hugginscan declar' himse'f, Colonel, he's yours, too dead to skin. It'ssech a shore thing, ' concloodes Peets, 'that, after all, sinceyou're merely out for safety, I'd get him in the wing, an' let it goat that. Once his arm is gone, it won't be no trouble to reason withHuggins. '

"'Don't talk to me about no arms, ' retorts the Colonel, stillmoppin' his feachers plenty desperate. 'I ain't goin' to do no fancyshootin'. If Huggins shows up yere, you can put down a yellow stackon it, I'll bust him where he looks biggest. Huggins is goin' totake 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 somecompliments the Colonel pays him in the Coyote the week previous. It's right in the midst of Huggins' prep'rations for blood thatBoggs happens up on him in the Red Light. 

"'See yere, Huggins, ' says Boggs, as soon as ever he gets theImpressario's grievance straight in his mind, 'you-all is followin'off the wrong wagon track. The Colonel ain't your proper prey atall; it's me. I contreebutes that piece in the Coyote about youplayin' it low on Peets myse'f. '

"Huggins gazes at Boggs an' never utters a word; Boggs is too manyfor him. 

"'Which I'm the last sport, ' observes Boggs after a pause, `to put alimit on the reccreations or meddle with the picnics of any gent, but this yere voylence of yours, Huggins, has gone too far. I'mobleeged to say, tharfore, that onless you aims to furnish thepainful spectacle of me bendin' a gun over your head, you had bettersink into silence an' pull your freight. I'm a slow, hard team tostart, Huggins, ' says Boggs, 'but once I goes into the collar, I'mirresist'ble. '

"Huggins don't know much, but he knows Boggs; an' so, followin'Boggs' remarks, Huggins ups an' ceases to clamor for the Colonelright thar. Lambs is bellig'rent compared with Huggins. The barkeep, in the interests of peace, cuts in on the play with the news thatthe drinks is on the house, an' with that the eepisode comes to aclose. 

"Now you-all has most likely begun to marvel where them laborstruggles comes buttin' in. We're within ropin' distance now. It'snot made cl'ar, but, as I remarks prior, I allers felt like Hugginsis the bug onder the chip when them printers gets hostile that timean' leaves the agency. Huggins ain't feeble enough mental to believefor a moment Boggs writes that piece. The fact that Boggs can't evenwrite his own name--bein' onfortunately wantin' utterly ineddication--is of itse'f enough to breed doubts. Still, I don'tondervalue Huggins none in layin' down to Boggs, that time Boggsallows he's the author. With nothin' at stake more than a fact, an'no money up nor nothin', he shorely wouldn't be jestified incontendin' with a gent of Boggs' extravagant impulses, an' who isborn with the theery that six-shooters is argyments. 

"But, as I was observin', Huggins is no more misled by them bluffsof Boggs than he is likely to give up his thoughts of revenge on theColonel. Bein' headed off from layin' for the Colonel direct--forBoggs reminds him at closin' that, havin' asserted his personalrespons'bility for that piece, he'll take it as affronts if Hugginspersists in goin' projectin' 'round for Colonel Sterett--thar's nodoubt 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 mebbythe second Saturday after the Huggins trouble, an' the Colonel isjest 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 nationalcouncil, 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 assistantsdemands at my hands, goes. From now I pays the union schedoole, thesame bein' five cents a thousand ems more than former. The Coyote asyet is not self-supportin', but that shall not affect this play. Ihave so far made up deeficiencies by draw-poker, which I finds to befairly soft an' certain in this camp, an' your su'gestions of araise 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 yieldsto your requests with pleasure, as I says prior. '

"It's mighty likely Colonel Sterett acquiesces in them demands tooquick; the printers is led to the thought that he's as simple towork as a Winchester. It's hooman nature to brand as many calves asyou can, an' so no one's surprised when, two weeks later, themvoracious printers comes frontin' up for more. The head-printerstiffens up, an' the four others assoomes eyes of iron, same asbefore, an' the pow wow re-opens as follows:

"'Colonel, ' says the range boss for the printers, while the othersstands lookin' an' listenin' like cattle with their y'ears allfor'ard, 'Colonel, the chapel's had a meetin', an' we-all hasdecided that you've got to make back payments at union rates for thelast six months, which is when we sends back to the States for thatcharter. The whole throw is twelve hundred dollars, or two hundredand forty a gent. No one wants to crowd your hand, Colonel, an' ifyou 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 atprintin' same as he can at poker. He whirls on them sharps like amountain lion. 

"'Gents, ' says the Colonel, 'you-all is up ag'inst it. I don't carenone if the cathedral's had a meetin', I declines to bow to yourclaims. As I states before, I obtains the money to conduct this yerejournal 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 yourattitoode on this o'casion as onjust. What you-all asks isrefoosed. '

"'See yere, Colonel, ' says the head-printer, beginnin' to arch hisback like he's goin' to buck some, 'don't put on no spurs toconverse with us; an' don't think to stampede us none with themLatin 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'llstrike 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 someamazed at this yere labor movement, but declar's itse'f nootral. 

"'Let every gent skin his own eel, ' says Enright; 'the same bein' afav'rite proverb back in Tennessee when I'm a yooth. This collisionbetween Colonel Sterett an' them free an' independent printers hehas in his herd is shorely what may be called a private game. Thar'sno 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 mypersonal symp'thies is with Colonel Sterett in this involvement, asyet 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 youreckon now if me an' Tutt an' Jack Moore, all casooal like, was totake our guns an' go cuttin' up the dust about the moccasins of themmalcontent printers--merely in our private capacity, I means--itwould he'p solve this yere deadlock a whole lot?' Boggs is a heapheadlong that a-way, an' likin' the Colonel, nacherally he's eagerto take his end. 

"'Boggs, ' replies Enright, an' his tones is stern to the verge ofbeing ferocious; 'Boggs, onless you wants the law-abidin' element tohang you in hobbles, you had better hold yourse'f in moresubjection. Moreover, what you proposes is childish. If you was toappear in the midst of this industr'al excitement, an' take toromancin' 'round as you su'gests, you'd chase every one of theseyere printers plumb off the range. Which they'd hit a few highplaces in the landscape an' be gone for good. Then the Colonel nevercould get out that Coyote paper no more. Let the Colonel fill hishand 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 corralag'in inside of a week. '

"Old Man Enright is right, same as he ever is. It's about fourthdrink time in the evenin' of the second day. Colonel Sterett, who'sbeen consoomin' his licker at intervals not too long apart, isseated 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 uphis 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 toBoggs as the barkeep brings them fresh glasses, 'I really welcomesthis difference with them blacksmiths of mine. I shorely needs thislay-off; literatoor that a-way, Dan, an' partic'lar daily paperliteratoor of the elevated character I've been sawin' off on thiscamp in the Coyote, is fa-tiguin' to the limit. When them misguidedparties surrenders their absurd demands--an' between us, Dan, Ismells Huggins in this an' expects to lay for him later tharfor--Isay, 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, thoughhe ain't none shore as to his drift. 

"'I'll be recooperated, ' continues the Colonel, sloppin' out anotherdrink; 'I'll be a new man when I takes hold ag'in, an' will make theCoyote, 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 RedLight. The head-printer, lookin' apol'getic an' dejected, j'insBoggs an' the Colonel where they sits. 

"'Colonel, ' observes the head-printer, 'the chapel's had anothermeetin'; an' the short an' the long is, the boys kind o' figgerthey're onjust in them demands for back pay--sort o' overplays theirhands, They've decided, Colonel, that you're dead right; an' I'myere 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 ofregrets 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 Idon't much care to drink none before the boys. They ain't got nobank-roll an' no credit like you has, Colonel--that's what makesthem see their errors--an' the plain trooth is they ain't hadnothin' to drink for twenty-four hours. That's why I don't takenothin'. It would shore seem invidious for me to be settin' yereh'istin' in my nose-paint, an' my pore comrades lookin' he'plesslyon; 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 methem onhappy sports ain't had a drink since yesterday? It's a stainon 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-allabandonin' your p'sition prematoor? Thar's somethin' doo to aprinciple, Jim. I'd rather looked for a continyooation of thisestrangement for a while at least. I'd shore take time to considerit before ever I'd let this strike c'llapse. '

"'That's all right, Colonel, ' says the head-printer, 'aboutc'llapsin'; an' I onderstands your feelin's an' symp'thisestharwith. But I've explained to you the financial condition of thismovement. Thar stands the boys, pourin' in the first fire-water thathas passed their lips for a day. An' you knows, Colonel, no gent, nor set of gents, can conduct strikes to a successful issue withoutwhiskey. '

"'But, Jim, ' pleads the Colonel, who hates to come off his vacation, 'if I fixes the Red Light say for fifteen drinks all 'round eachday, don't you reckon you can prevail on them recalcitrant printersto put this reeconciliation off a week?'

"However, Enright, who at this p'int comes trailin' in, takes up thehead-printer's side, an' shows the Colonel it's his dooty. 

"'You owes it to the Wolfville public, Colonel, ' says Enright. 'TheCoyote has now been suppressed two days. We-all has been deprived ofour daily enlightenment an' our intellects is boggin' down. For twoentire days Wolfville has been in darkness as to worldly events, an'is right now knockin' 'round in the problem of existence like ablind dog in a meat shop. Your attitoode of delay, Colonel, isimpossible; the public requests your return. If you ain't back atthe Coyote office to-morry mornin' by second drink time, dealin'your wonted game, I wouldn't ondertake to state what shape a jestpop'lar resentment will assoome. '

"'An', of course, ' observes the Colonel with a sigh, 'when you-allputs it in that loocid an' convincin' way, Enright, thar's no moreto 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 ourefforts. This over-work may be onderminin' me, but Wolfville shallnot call to me in vain. '"

CHAPTER II

The Grinding of Dave Tutt. 

"Yes, " said the Old Cattleman, as he took off his sombrero andcontemplated 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, asmerits plenty of lookin' after. This yere Stevenson ain't exactlyornery; but bein' restless, an' with a disp'sition to be emphaticwhenever he's fillin' himse'f up, keepin' your eye on him is good, safe jedgment. He is public-sperited, too, an' sometimes takes lotsof pains to please folks an' be pop'lar. 

"I recalls once when we're bringin' up a beef herd from thePanhandle country. We're ag'in the south bank of the Arkansaw, tryin' to throw the herd across. Thar's a bridge, but the natifsallows it's plenty weak, so we're makin' the herd swim. Steve isposted at the mouth of the bridge, to turn back any loose cattlethat takes a notion to try an' cross that a-way. Thar's nothin' muchto 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, Ireckons--as is camped in town, comes over on the bridge to see uscross the herd. They've lined out clost up to Steve, a-leanin' oftheir young Eastern chins on the top rail. 

"'Which I don't regyard this much, ' says one young woman; 'thar's nothrill 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 givesa whoop, slams his six-shooter off into the scenery, socks his spursinto the pony, an' hops himse'f over the side of the bridge a wholelot into the shallow water below. The jump is some twenty feet an'busts the pony's laigs like toothpicks; also it breaks Steve'scollarbone an' disperses his feachers 'round some free an' frightfulon account of his sort o' lightin' on his face. 

"Well, we shoots the pony; an' Steve rides in the grub wagon four orfive days recooperatin'. It's jest the mercy of hell he don't breakhis neck. 

"'Whatever do you jump off for?' I asks Steve when he's comin''round. 

"'Which I performs said equestrianisms to amoose that she-shorthornwho is cussin' us out. ' says Steve 'I ain't permittin' for her to goback to the States, malignin' of us cow-men. '

"Steve gets himse'f downed a year after, an' strikes out for newranges in the skies. He's over on the upper Red River when he getscreased. He's settin' into a poker game. 

"Steve never oughter gambled none. He is a good cow-boy--splendidround-up hand--an' can do his day's work with rope or iron in abrandin' pen with anybody; but comin' right to cases, he don't knowno 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. Thisyere, of course, leads to frequent poverty, but it don't confer nowisdom 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 heartflush, nine at the head. In two minutes he don't have even hisblankets left. 

"After he's broke, Steve h'ists in a drink or two an' sours 'round awhole lot; an' jest as the trey-full boy gets into his saddle, Stevecomes roamin' along up an' hails him. 

"'Pard, ' says Steve, a heap gloomy, 'I've been tryin' to schoolmyse'f to b'ar it, but it don't go. Tharfore, I'm yere to say yousteals that pa'r of kings as completed my rooin. Comin' to themdecisions, 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 aheap 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 Iwon't: not this round-up! Sech requests is preepost'rous!'

"'Don't wax flippant about this yere robbery, says Steve. 'It'senough to be plundered without bein' insulted by gayeties. Now, whatI says is this: Either I gets my stuff, or I severs our relationswith a gun. ' An' tharupon Steve pulls his pistol an' takes hold ofthe trey-full boy's bridle. "'If thar's one thing makes me moreweary 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 nextsecond, 'bang!' goes the trey-full boy's six-shooter, the bulletgets Steve in the neck, with them heavenly results I yeretoforeonfolds, an' at first drink time that evenin' we has a hasty butsuccessful fooneral. 

"'I don't reckon, ' says Wat Peacock, who is range boss, 'thar's needof havin' any law-suits about this yere killin'. I knows Steve forlong an' likes him. But I'm yere to announce that them idees hefosters concerinin' the valyoo of poker hands, onreasonable an'plumb extrav'gant as they shorely is, absolootely preecloodedSteve's reachin' to old age. An' Steve has warnin's. Once when hetries to get his life insured down in Austin, he's refoosed. 

"'"In a five-hand game, table stakes, what is a pair of aces worthbefore 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 luckyto be alive right now. " An' they declines to insure Steve. '

"However, " continued my friend musingly, "I've been puttin' it up tomyself, that mighty likely I does wrong to tell you these yeretales. Which you're ignorant of cow folks, an' for me to goonloadin' of sech revelations mebby gives you impressions that's alot erroneous. Now I reckons from that one eepisode you half figgerscow people is morose an' ferocious as a bunch?"

As the old gentleman gave his tones the inflection of inquiry, Ihastened to interpose divers flattering denials. His recitals hadinspired an admiration for cow men rather than the reverse. 

This setting forth of my approval pleased him. He gave me his wordthat I in no sort assumed too much in the matter. Cow men, heasserted, were a light-hearted brood; over-cheerful, perhaps, attimes, and seeking amusement in ways beyond the understanding of theEast; but safe, upright, and of splendid generosity. Eager tocorrect within me any mal-effects of the tragedy just told, herecalled the story of a Tucson day of merry relaxation with DaveTutt. He opined that it furnished a picture of the people of cows inlighter, brighter colors, and so gave me details with a sketchygladness. 

"Which you're acc'rate in them thoughts, " he said, referring to myword that I held cow folk to be engaging characters. After elevatinghis spirit with a clove, He went forward. "Thar ain't much paw an'bellow to a cowboy. Speakin' gen'ral, an' not allowin' for theminflooences which disturbs none--I adverts to mescal an' monte, an'sech abnormalities--he's passive an' easy; no more harm into himthan a jack rabbit. 

"Of course he has his moods to be merry, an' mebby thar's hours whenhe's gay to the p'int of over-play. But his heart's as straight as arifle bar'l every time. 

"It's a day I puts in with Dave Tutt which makes what these yerelaw-sharps calls 'a case in p'int, ' an' which I relates withoutreserve. It gives you some notion of how a cowboy, havin' a leesurehour, 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 ofcattle, 'way over near the Cow Springs, an' is in Tucson for a rest. We've been sloshin' 'round the Oriental all day, findin' newvirchoos in the whiskey, an' amoosin' ourse'fs at our own expense, when about fifth drink time in the evenin' Dave allows he's somesick of sech revels, an' concloods he'll p'int out among the 'dobys, sort o' explorin' things up a lot. Which we tharupon goes inconcert. 

"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 herdon 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 drinkswinner, an' of that Oriental whiskey, too, it broadens him an' makeshim feel friendly, an' deloodes him into claimin' acquaintance withpeople he never does know, an' refoosin' to onderstand how theyshows symptoms of doubt. So we capers along; Dave warblin' 'TheDeath 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 hestarts toward 'em, aimin' for a powwow--which he does frequent, bein' a mighty amiable gent that a-way--they carols forth a squawkimmediate an' shets the door. Dave goes on. Mebby he gives the doora kick or two, a-proclaimin' of his discontent. 

"All at once, while we're prowlin' up one of them spacious alleys aMexican thinks is a street, we comes up on a Eytalian with a musicoutfit which he's grindin'. This yere music ain't so bad, an' Ihears a heap worse strains. As soon as Dave sees him he tries tofigger on a dance, but the 'local talent' declines to dance withhim. 

"'In which event, ' says Dave, 'I plays a lone hand. "

"So Dave puts up a small dance, like a Navajo, accompanyin' ofhimse'f with outcries same as a Injun. But the Eytalian don't playDave's kind of music, an' the bailee comes to a halt. 

"'Whatever is the matter with this yere tune-box, anyhow?' saysDave. 'Gimme the music for a green-corn dance, an' don't make nodelay. ' "'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. Iknows this gent of yore. I meets him two years ago in El Paso; whichme 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 makesme 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. Wedrinks together, an' goes out an' shoots up the camp, arm an' arm. '

"But the Eytalian insists he never meets Dave. This makes Dave uglya lot, an' before I gets to butt in an' stop it, he outs with hissix-shooter, an' puts a hole into the music-box. '

"'These yere tunes I hears so far, ' says Dave, 'is too frivolous; Ifiggers that oughter sober 'em down a whole lot. '

"When Dave shoots, the Eytalian party heaves the strap of his hewgagover his head, an' flies. Dave grabs the music-box, keepin' it fromfallin', an' then begins turnin' the crank to try it. It plays allright, only every now an' then thar's a hole into the melody likeit's lost a tooth. 

"'This yere's good enough for a dog!' says Dave, a-twistin' away onthe handle. 'Where's this yere Merino? Whatever is the matter withthat shorthorn? Why don't he stand his hand?'

"But Merino ain't noomerous no more; so Dave allows it's a shame tolet it go that a-way, an' Mexicans sufferin' for melody. With thathe straps on the tune-box, an' roams 'round from one 'doby toanother, turnin' it loose. 

"'How long does Merino deal his tunes, ' says Dave, 'before hec'llects? However, I makes new rooles for the game, right yere. Iplays these cadences five minutes; an' then I gets action on 'em forfive. 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 around-up. He'll tackle a household, sort o' terrorisin' at 'em withhis gun; an' tharupon the members gets that generous they evennegotiates 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'returnin' to go jest before c'llectin' time. 

"'Hold on, ' says Dave, pickin' up his Colt's offen the top of thehewgag; 'don't get cold feet. Which I've seen people turn that kyardin 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 onthis 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 workno 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 lasthe's plumb fatigued, an' allows he'll quit an' call it a day. So hepacks the tom-tom down to Franklin's office. Franklin is marshal ofTucson, an' Dave turns over the layout an' the money, an' tellsFranklin 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'scanterin' off among the scenery like antelopes. '

"It's at this p'int Merino comes to view. He starts in to be a heapdejected about that bullet; but when he gets Dave's donation that a-way, his hopes revives. He begins to regyard it as a heap goodscheme. 

"'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 forhim. 

"'It's gettin' so, ' says Dave, 'a free American citizen don't obtainno encouragements. Yere I puts in half a day, amassin' wealth for aforeign gent who is settin' in bad luck; an' elevatin' Mexicans, whoshorely needs it, an' for a finish I'm laid for by the marshal likea 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, ifany, 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. EvenDave's standin' up them towerists, an' the rapine that ensoos don'tworry 'em none; but the question of the music itse'f sets thealcalde to buckin'. 

"'I'm shorely depressed to say it, Dave, ' says the alcalde, who is asport named Steele, 'but you've been a-bustin' of ord'nances aboutplayin' 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 toMerino's license?' says Dave. 

"'Can't do it nohow, ' says the alcalde. 

"'Well, is this yere ord'nance accordin' to Hoyle an' theDeclaration of Independence?' says Dave. 'I don't stand it noneonless. '

"'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 withoutno license. Dave asks me later not to mention this yere outcome inWolfville, 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 Cattlemantilted his chair back and challenged my interest with his eye. "Thecorrals 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 RedLight whiskey mighty profuse. Four or five mule skinners has theirlong limber sixteen-foot whips, which is loaded with dust-shot frombutt to tip, an' is crackin' of 'em at a mark. I've seen one ofthese yere mule experts with the most easy, delicate, delib'ratetwist of the wrist make his whip squirm in the air like a hurtsnake; an' then he'll straighten it out with the crack of twentyrifles, an' the buckskin popper cuts a hole in a loose buffalo robehe's hung up; an' all without investin' two ounces of actooalstrength. Several of us Wolfville gents is on the sidewalk in frontof the O. K. Restauraw, applaudin' of the good shots, when Dave Tuttspeaks up to Jack Moore, next to me, an' says:

"'Jack, you minds that old Navajo you downs over on the San Simonlast Fall?'"

"'I minds him mighty cl'ar, ' says Jack. 'He's stealin' my Alizanhoss 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-breedwho'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 himallow that the killin' of his relatif is mighty rank, an' that hedon'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 hegoes to play hoss a little bit, him an' his oncle will be able totalk 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 anoncle of yours when I'm down thar last. I ain't run up on him nonelately, though. Where do you-all reckon he's done 'loped to?'

"'Can't say, myse'f, ' says Pickles, with a kind o' wickedcheerfulness; 'our fam'ly has a round-up of itse'f over on B'arCreek last spring, an' I don't count his nose among 'em none. Mebbyhe 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 thetime I speaks of, I'm settin' in camp one day. Something attractsme, an' I happens to look up, an' thar's my hoss, Alizan, with aperfect stranger on him, pitchin' an' buckin', an' it looks likehe'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 gethurt. So I grabs my Winchester an' allows to kill Alizan. But it's anew gun; an' you know what new sights is--coarse as sandburrs; youcould drag a dog through 'em--an' I holds too high. I fetches thestranger, "bang!" right back of his left y'ear, an' the bullet comesouten his right y'ear. You can bet the limit, I never am sodispleased with my shootin'. The idee of me holdin' four foot toohigh in a hundred yards! I never is that embarrassed! I'm so plumbdisgusted an' ashamed, I don't go near that equestrian stranger tillafter 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 tothe 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 Iain't relieved. Bein' a no-account Injun, of course, I don't paw himover much for brands; but do you know, Pickles, from the casooalglance I gives, it strikes me at the time it's mighty likely to beyour oncle. This old bronco fancier's skelp is over on my bridle, ifyou thinks you'd know it. '

"'No, ' says Pickles, mighty onconcerned, 'it can't be my onclenohow. If he's one of my fam'ly, it would be your ha'r on hisbridle. It must be some old shorthorn of a Mohave you downs. Let'sall take a drink on it. '

"So we-all goes weavin' over to the Red Light, Jack an' Picklessurveyin' each other close an' interested, that a-way, an' the restof us on the quee vee, to go swarmin' out of range if they takes toshootin'. 

"'It's shore sad to part with friends, ' says Pickles, as he secreteshis nose-paint, 'but jest the same I must saddle an' stampede out ofyere. I wants to see that old villyun, Tom Cooke, an' I don't reckonnone I'll find him any this side of Prescott, neither. Be youthinkin' of leavin' camp yourse'f, Jack?'

"'I don't put it up I'll leave for a long time, ' says Jack. 'Mebbynot for a month--mebby it's even years before I go wanderin' off--sodon't go to makin' no friendly, quiet waits for me nowhere along theroute, Pickles, 'cause you'd most likely run out of water or chuckor something before ever I trails up. '

"It ain't long when Pickles saddles up an' comes chargin' 'round onhis little buckskin hoss. Pickles takes to cuttin' all manner oftricks, reachin' for things on the ground, snatchin' off Mexicans'hats, an' jumpin' his pony over wagon tongues an' camp fixin's. Allthe time he's whoopin' an' yellin' an' carryin' on, an havin' a hightime 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 threetimes he comes flashin' by where we be, an' I looks to see him makea try at Jack. But he's too far back, or thar's too many 'roundJack, or Pickles can't get the distance, or something; for he don'tthrow 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 thatEnright calls to Pickles. 

"'Look yere, Pickles, ' he says, 'I've passed the word to the fivebest 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'nfriendly to tell you. Then ag'in, I don't like to lose the Red Lightsech 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 toneswherein you talks of Injuns. I'm Injun, part, myse'f, an' I don'tlike 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 aprairie dog, I'm not only onrespectful of Injuns, an' thinks thegov'ment ought to pay a bounty for their skelps, but I statesbeliefs that a hoss-stealin', skulkin' mongrel of a half-breed islower 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 anotherround of drinks, I'll gamble, Pickles, that you-all stole that hossdown thar, an' that the "7K" brand on his shoulder ain't no brand atall, but picked on with the p'int of a knife. '

"When Jack puts it all over Pickles that a-way, we looks forshootin' shore. But Pickles can't steady himse'f on the call. He'slike ponies I've met. He'll ride right at a thing as though he'sgoin' plumb through or over, an' at the last second he quits an'flinches an' weakens. Son, it ain't Pickles' fault. Thar ain't nobreed of gent but the pure white who can play a desp'rate deal downthrough, 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' uglyat 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'llhave 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 heapgrim, '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. Whichyou'll be alone over thar, an' can conduct the reepast in anyfashion to suit yourse'fs. But you don't get into the dinin' roomreg'lar, an' go to weedin' out my boarders accidental, with themfeuds of yours. '

"After a little, their grub's got ready in the camp house. It's ajo-darter of a feed, with cake, pie, airtights, an' the full game, an' Jack an' Pickles walks over side an' side. They goes in alonean' shets the door. In about five minutes, thar's some emphaticremarks 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 hiseye. 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 intheir laps; but bein' bred across, that a-way, Pickles can't standthe strain. He gets nervous an' grabs for his gun; the muzzlecatches onder the table-top, an' thar's his bullet all safe in thewood. 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 fromthe jump. It comes off by Pickles' earnest desire; Jack couldn'trefoose. He would have lost both skelp an' standin' if he had. Which, however, if this yere 'limination of Pickles has got to havea name, my idee is to call her a case of self-deestruction onPickles' part, an' let it go at that. '"

CHAPTER IV. 

Johnny Florer's Axle Grease. 

It was the afternoon--cool andbeautiful. I had been nursing my indolence with a cigar and one ofthe large arm-chairs which the veranda of the great hotel afforded. Now and then I considered within myself as to the whereabouts of myOld Cattleman, and was in a half humor to hunt him up. Just as mythoughts were hardening into decision in that behalf, a high, wavering note, evidently meant for song, came floating around thecorner of the house, from the veranda on the end. The singer was outof range of eye, but I knew him for my aged friend. Thus he gaveforth:

 "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 thevenerable musician. "Happy and healthy, I trust?"

"Never feels better in my life, " responded the Old Cattleman. "If Iwas 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 mynotes. Shoutin' an' singin' 'round a passel of cattle to keep 'emfrom stampedin' on bad nights has sp'iled my voice, that a-way. Thar's nothin' so weakenin', vocal, as them efforts in the open airan' in the midst of the storms an' the elements. What for a song isthat I'm renderin'? Son, I learns that ballad long ago, back whenI'm a boy in old Tennessee. It's writ, word and music, by littleMollie Hines, who lives with her pap, old Homer Hines, over on the'Possum Trot. Mollie Hines is shore a poet, an' has a mighty sightof fame, local. She's what you-all might call a jo-darter of a poet, Mollie is; an' let anythin' touchin' or romantic happen anywherealong the 'Possum Trot, so as to give her a subjeck, an' Molliewould be down on it, instanter, like a fallin' star. She shorely isa verse maker, an' is known in the Cumberland country as 'TheNightingale of Big Bone Lick. ' I remembers when a Shylock over tothe Dudleytown bank forecloses a mortgage on old Homer Hines, an'offers his settlements at public vandue that a-way, how Mollieprances out an' pours a poem into the miscreant. Thar's a hundredan' 'levcn verses into it, an' each one like a bullet outen aWinchester. It goes like this: "Thar's a word to be uttered to therich 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'sstuck!)

"Mighty sperited epick, that! You recalls that English preachersharp that comes squanderin' 'round the tavern yere for his healthabout a month ago? Shore! I knows you couldn't have overlooked nobet like that divine. Well, that night in them parlors, when hereads some rhymes in a book, --whatever is that piece he reads?Locksley Hall; right you be, son! As I was sayin', when he's throughrenderin' said Locksley Hall, he comes buttin' into a talk with mewhere I'm camped in a corner all cosy as a toad onder a cabbageleaf, 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 ideekind o' stiffens its knees an' takes to buckin' some. 'Mollie Hinescould make that Locksley Hall gent you was readin' from, or even theparty who writes Watt's Hymns, go to the diskyard. ' An' then Irepeats some forty of them stanzas, whereof that one I jest nowrecites is a speciment. 

"What does this pulpit gent say? He see I has him cinched, an' he'splumb mute. He confines himse'f to turnin' up his nose in disgustlike Bill Storey does when his father-in-law horsewhips him. "

Following this, the Old Cattleman and I wrapped ourselves inthoughtful smoke, for the space of five minutes, as ones whopondered the genius of "The Nightingale of Big Bone Lick"--MollieHines on the banks of the Possom Trot. At last my friend broke forthwith a question. 

"Whoever is them far-off folks you-all was tellin' me is related toInjuns?"

"The Japanese. " I replied. "Undoubtedly the Indians and the Japaneseare of the same stock. "

"Which I'm foaled like a mule, " said the old gentleman, "a completeprey 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 shorehas aversions to 'em a whole lot. Of course, I never sees them Japs, but I saveys Injuns from feathers to moccasins, an' comparin' Japsto Injuns, I feels about 'em like old Bill Rawlins says about hisbrother Jim's wife. "

"And how was that?" I asked. 

The afternoon was lazy and good, and I in a mood to listen to myrambling grey comrade talk of anybody or anything. 

"It's this a-way, " he began. "This yere Bill an' Jim Rawlins isbrothers an' abides in Roanoke, Virginny. They splits up in theiryooth, an' Jim goes p'intin' out for the West. Which he shore getsthar, an' nothin' is heard of him for forty years. 

"Bill Rawlins, back in Roanoke, waxes a heap rich, an' at lastclears up his game an' resolves lie takes a rest. Also he concloodsto travel; an' as long as he's goin' to travel, he allows he'll sorto' 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 theSlope at a meetropolis called Los Angeles. But this yere Jim ain'tthar none. The folks tells Bill they reckons Jim is over to VirginnyCity. 

"It's a month later, an' Bill is romancin' along on one of themNevada mountain-meadow trails, when he happens upon a low, squattydugout, the same bein' a camp rather than a house, an' belongs witha 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'sshorely witnessed times. The hands of this ha'ry gent is in hispockets, an' he exhibits a mighty soopercilious air. Bill pulls uphis cayouse for a powwow. 

"How far is it to a place where I can camp down for the night?' asksBill. 

"'It's about twenty miles to the next wickeyup, ' says thesoopercilious gent. 

"'Which I can't make it none to-night, then, ' says Bill. 

"'Not on that hoss, ' says the soopercilious gent, for Bill's ponythat 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 sooperciliousgent; '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 bycasooal hold-ups like you, don't preevail with me a little bit. Iresents the introosion on my privacy. '

"'But I'll have to sleep on these yere plains, ' says Bill a heapplaintif. 

"'Thar's better sports than you-all slept on them plains, ' says thesoopercilious gent. 

"Meanwhile, thar's a move or two, speshully the way he bats hiseyes, 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 insidethe door of the dugout, searches forth a rifle an' pumps a cartridgeinto the bar'l. 

"'Stan' your hand, Jim!' says Bill, at the same time slidin' to theground with the hoss between him an' his relatif; 'don't getimpetyoous. I'm your brother Bill. '

"'What!' says the soopercilious gent, abandonin' them hostilemeasures, an' joy settlin' over his face. 'What!' he says; 'you mybrother 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 Idon'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 beenparted. Jim wants to know all about Roanoke an' how things stacks upin 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'sthe color of a saddle, an' Bill can't make out whether she's awhite, a Mexican, a Digger Injun or a nigger. An' she's thathideous, this female is, she comes mighty near givin' Bill heartfailure. Son, you-all can't have no idee how turribie this personlooks. She's so ugly the flies won't light on her. Yes, sir! uglyenough 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 eyeslooks like two bullet holes in a board, an' the rest of her feachersis tetotaciously indeescrib'ble. Bill's intellects at the awfulsight of this yere person almost loses their formation, as armygents would say. At last Bill gets in a question on his rapid-firerelatif, who's shootin' him up with queries touchin' Roanoke to beata royal flush. 

"'Jim, ' says Bill, sort o' scared like, 'whoever is this yere ladywho's roamin' the scene?'

"'Well, thar now!' says Jim, like he's plumb disgusted, 'I hope mygun may hang fire, if I don't forget to introdooce you! Bill, that'smy wife. '

"Then Jim goes surgin' off all spraddled out about the noomerous an'manifest excellencies of this female, an' holds forth alarmin' ofan' concernin' her virchoos an' loveliness of face an' form, an' allto 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 sisterwho's as much like her as two poker chips. I'm co'tin' both of 'emmighty near four years before ever I can make up my mind whicheverof '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 mystack down. At last, after four years, I ups an' cuts the kyards forit, an' wins out this one. '

"'Well, Jim, ' says Bill, who's been settin' thar shudderin' throughthem rhapsodies, an' now an' then gettin' a glimpse of this yerefemale 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 ofyour choice. But candor's got the drop on me an' compels me to speakmy thoughts. I never sees this sister of your wife, Jim, but jestthe same, I'd a heap sight rather have her. '

"An' as I observes previous, " concluded the old gentleman, "I feelsabout Japs an' Injuns like Bill does about Jim's wife that time. Inever sees no Japs, but I'd a mighty sight rather have 'em. "

There was another pause after this, and cigars were produced. For atime the smoke curled in silence. Then my friend again took updiscussion. 

"Thar comes few Injuns investigatin' into Wolfville. Doorin' thememutes of Cochise, an' Geronimo, an' Nana, the Apaches goes No'than' South clost in by that camp of ours, but you bet! they're neverthat locoed as to rope once at Wolfville. We-all would shorely haveadmired to entertain them hostiles; but as I su'gests, they're aheap too enlightened to give us a chance. 

"Savages never finds much encouragement to come ha'ntin' aboutWolfville. About the first visitin' Injun meets with a contreetemps;though this is inadvertent a heap an' not designed. This buck, aNavajo, I takes it, from his feathers, has been pirootin' about fora day or two. At last I reckons he allows he'll eelope off into thefoothills ag'in. As carryin' out them roode plans which he forms, hestarts to scramble onto the Tucson stage jest as Old Monte'sc'llectin' up his reins. But it don't go; Injuns is barred. Thegyard, who's perched up in front next to Old Monte, pokes this yereaborigine in the middle of his face with the muzzle of his rifle;an' as the Injun goes tumblin', the stage starts, an' both wheelspasses over him the longest way. That Injun gives a groan liketwenty sinners, an his lamp is out. 

"Old Monte sets the brake an' climbs down an' sizes up theremainder. 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 itwith you. I'm too busy a gent to let you or any other blindeddrunkard go leavin' a fooneral at my door. Thar's enough to do hereas 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 OldMonte, as French an' a hoss-hustler from inside the corral lays holdof the Navajo to throw him on with the baggage. 

"'Then come down yere an' ride herd on the play yourse'f, youmurderin' 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 itsleaves, 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 voylenceat Old Monte; 'framin' up a tomb, I say, in this yere rock-ribbedlandscape ain't no child's play, an' I'm not allowin' none for thathomicide Monte to put no sech tasks on me. He knows the Wolfvilleroole. Every gent skins his own polecats an' plants his own prey. '

"'That's whatever!' says Jack Moore, 'an' onless Old Monte isthirstin' for trouble in elab'rate forms, he acquiesces tharin. '

"With that Old Monte hitches the Navajo to the hind axle with alariat which French brings out, an' then the stage, with the savagecoastin' along behind, goes rackin' off to the No'th. Later, Montean' the passengers hangs this yere remainder up in a pine tree, atan 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 Injunsentertains of the play is, as I once hears a lecture sharppromulgate, 'concealed with the customary stoicism of the Americansavage. '

"Most likely them antipathies of mine ag'in Injuns is a heapenhanced by what I experiences back on the old Jones an' Plummertrail, when they was wont to stampede our herds as we goes drivin'through the Injun Territory. Any little old dark night one of themsavages is liable to come skulkin' up on the wind'ard side of theherd, flap a blanket, cut loose a yell, an' the next second thar's ahundred an' twenty thousand dollars' worth of property skally-hootin' off into space on frenzied hoofs. Next day, them sameontootered children of the woods an' fields would demand four bitsfor every head they he'ps round up an' return to the bunch. It's asource of savage revenoo, troo; but plumb irritatin'. Them Injunscorrals 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 someeasy, havin' no more jedgment as to the valyoo of a hand than SteveStevenson, an' Steve would take a pa'r of nines an' bet 'em higherthan a cat's back. We allers recovers our dinero, but thar's timean' sleep we lose an' don't get back. 

"Yes, indeed, son, Injuns common is as ornery as soapweed. The onlygood you-all can say of 'em is, they're nacheral-born longhorns, isoncomplainin', an' saveys the West like my black boy saveys licker. One time--this yere is 'way back in my Texas days--one time I'mcamped 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' swampywhere I be it would bog a butterfly. For once I'm took sick; has afever, 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 coupleof 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 compadreof mine who's a trader thar by the name of Johnny Florer. This yereFlorer is an old-timer with the Osages; been with 'em it's mightylikely twenty year at that time, an' is with 'em yet for all thenotice I ever receives. 

"On the o'casion of this ambassy of mine, I has a chance to studythem savages, an' get a line on their char'cters a whole lot. Thistune I'm with Johnny, what you-all might call Osage upper circles isa heap torn by the ontoward rivalries of a brace of eminent buckswho's each strugglin' to lead the fashion for the tribe an' raisethe other out. 

"Them Osages, while blanket Injuns, is plumb opulent. Thar's sixteenhundred of 'em, an' they has to themse'fs 1, 500, 000 acres of as goodland as ever comes slippin' from the palm of the Infinite. Also, thegov'ment is weak-minded enough to confer on every one of 'em, eachbuck drawin' the dinero for his fam'ly, a hundred an' forty big irondollars anyooally. Wherefore, as I observes, them Osages is plentystrong, financial. 

"These yere two high-rollin' bucks I speaks of, who's strugglin' forthe social soopremacy, is in the midst of them strifes while I'mvisitin' Florer. It's some two moons prior when one of 'em, whichwe'll call him the 'Astor Injun, ' takes a heavy fall out of theopp'sition by goin' over to Cherryvale an' buyin' a sooperannuatedtwo-seat Rockaway buggy. To this he hooks up a span of ponies, loadsin his squaws, an' p'rades 'round from Pawhusky to Greyhoss--thesame bein' a couple of Osage camps--an' tharby redooces the enemy--what we'll name the 'Vanderbilt Injuns'--to desp'ration. The Astorsavage shorely has the call with that Rockaway. 

"But the Vanderbilt Osage is a heap hard to down. He takes one lookat the Astor Injun's Rockaway with all its blindin' splendors, an'then goes streakin' it for Cherryvale, like a drunkard to abarbecue. An' he sees the Rockaway an' goes it several better. Whatdo you-all reckon now that savage equips himse'f with? He wins out ahearse, 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 thehearse, he comes troopin' back to camp with it, himse'f on the boxdrivin', an' puttin' on enough of lordly dog to make a pack ofhounds. Which he shorely squelches the Astors; they jest simply laydown 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 belookin' out o' the winders at common savages who ain't in it an'don't have no hearse. Meanwhiles, the buck Vanderbilt is drivin' theoutfit all over an' 'round the cantonments, the entire bunch assassy an' as flippant as a coop o' catbirds. It's all the Astors cando to keep from goin' plumb locoed. The Vanderbilts win. 

"One mornin', when Florer an' me has jest run our brands onto thefourth drink, an old buck comes trailin' into the store. His blanketis pulled over his head, an' he's pantin' an' givin' it out he'spowerful 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 upthis mornin', an' his heart is very bad. You must give him medicineor your father will die. '

"Johnny passes the invalid a cinnamon stick an' exhorts him to chewon that, which he does prompt an' satisfactory, like cattle on theircud. 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' inyere an' buys a bottle of Worcestershire sauce; an' then he getsgaudy an' quaffs it all up on a theery she's a new-fangled firewater. He gets away with the entire bottle. It's now he realizesthem errors, an' takes to groanin' an' allowin' it gives him a badheart. Which I should shorely admit as much!'

"'Your father is worse, ' says the Osage, as he comes cuttin' in onJohnny 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 blackpepper before it's ground. 

"'Let my father get away with that, ' says Johnny, 'an' he'll feellike a bird. It will make him gay an' full of p'isen, like arattlesnake in August. '

"Out to the r'ar of Johnny's store is piled up onder a shed more'ntwo thousand boxes of axle grease. It was sent into the nationconsigned to Johnny by some ill-advised sports in New York, whofiggers that because the Osages as a tribe abounds in wagons, tharmust shorely be a market for axle grease. That's where them New Yorkpersons misses the ford a lot. Them savages has wagons, troo; butthey 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 asingle box; said ointment is a drug. When he don't dispose of itnone, 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 whichthe savage has not yet clambered, an' them optimists, East, whosends it on yere, should have never made no sech break. '

"Mebby it's because this axle grease grows sullen an' feelsneglected that a-way; mebby it's the heats of two summers an' thefrosts of two winters which sp'iles its disp'sition; shore it is atany rate that at the time I'm thar, that onguent seems fretted tothe core, an' is givin' forth a protestin' fragrance that has stoodoff 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' catchher breath. 

"It's when the ailin' Osage, whose malady is too deep-seated to bereached by cinnamon or pimento, comes frontin' up for a thirdpreescription, that the axle grease idee seizes Johnny. 

"'Father, ' says Johnny, 'come with me. Your son will now saw offsome big medicine on you; a medicine meant for full-blown gents likeyou an' me. Come, father, come with your son, an' you shall be curedin half the time it takes to run a loop on a lariat. '

"Johnny breaks open one of the axle grease boxes, arms the savagewith a chip for a spoon, an' exhorts him to cut in on it a wholelot. 

"Son, the odors of them wares is awful; Kansas butter is violets toit; 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'tgot a minute to live. When he's got away with half the box, he tucksthe balance onder his blanket an' retires to his teepee with a lookof gratitoode on his face. His heart has ceased to be bad, an' themillnesses, which aforetime has him on the go, surrenders to thepowers of this yere new medicine like willows to the wind. Withthis, 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 shorelyteaches, also, the excellence of them maxims, 'Cast your bread uponthe waters an' you'll be on velvec before many days. ' Within twohours a couple of this sick buck's squaws comes sidlin' tip toJohnny an' desires axle grease. It's quoted at four bits a box, an'the squaws changes in five pesos an' beats a retreat, carryin' awayten boxes. Then the fame of this big, new medicine spreads; thataxle grease becomes plenty pop'lar. Other bucks an' other squawsshows up, changes in their money, an' is made happy with axlegrease. They never has sech a time, them Osages don't, since thebattle of the Hoss-shoe. Son, they packs it off in blankets, freights it away in wagons. They turns loose on a reg'lar axlegrease spree. In a week every box is sold, an' thar's orders stackedup on Florer's desk for two kyar-loads more, which is bein' hurriedon 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 thisagent, 'the basis of a report to the gov'ment at Washin'ton. I setsforth the mad passion of these yere Osages for axle grease as acondiment, a beverage, an' a cure. I explains the tribal leanin'that exists for that speshul axle grease which is crowned withyears, an' owns a strength which comes only as the cor'lary of hardexperience. Axle grease is like music an' sooths the savage breast. It is oil on the troubled waters of aboriginal existence. Its feetis the feet of peace. At the touch of axle grease the hostileabandons the war path an' surrenders himse'f. He washes off hispaint an' becometh with axle grease as the lamb that bleateth. Thegreatest possible uprisin' could be quelled with a consignment ofaxle grease. Mr. Florer, I congratulate you. From a humble store-keep, sellin' soap, herrin' an' salt hoss, you takes your stand fromnow with the ph'lanthropists an' leaders among men. You haveconjoined Injuns an' axle grease. For centuries the savage has beena 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 deepershade; "you sees this yere Toothpick disgraces Wolfville; that's howit is. Downs a party, Toothpick Johnson does, an' no gun on thegent, the same bein' out of roole entire. Nacherally, while no oneblames Toothpick, who makes the play what you-all calls 'bonyfidis, ' the public sort o' longs for his eelopement. An' thatsettles 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 frequentnow. They're the kind who picks up a poker hand, kyard by kyard, asthey comes. They're that for'ard, --that headlong to get outer thepresent an' into the footure, they jest can't wait for things tohave a chance to happen. 

"'Whyever do you pull in your kyards that a-way?' I says toToothpick, reprovin' of him. 'Why can't you let 'em lay till thehand's dealt?'

"'Which I'm shorely that locoed to look if I ain't got three aces orsome sech, ' says Toothpick, 'I must turn 'em up to see. '

"'Well, ' says I, an' the same is wisdom every time, 'you-all wouldappear more like a dead cold sport to let 'em be, an' pick up yourwhole hand together. Likewise, you'd display a mighty sight moresavey if you keeps your eyes on the dealer till he lays down thedeck. You'd be less afflicted by disagreeable surprises if you'dfreeze 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 astack. 

"'He's too simooltaneous, is Toothpick, ' says Jack Moore once, whenhim an' Boggs is discoursin' together, sizin' up Toothpick. 'He'sthat simooltaneous he comes mighty near bein' a whole lot tooadjacent. '

"What does Toothpick do that time we-all disapproves an' stampedeshim? 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'restandin' 'round in front of the Red Light, breakin' into letters an'papers, an' a-makin' of comments, when along wanders a party who'sbeen picnicin' with the camp. As the deal turns, he never does staylong nohow; never long enough to become a 'genial 'quaintance an' afav'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 fora second. It's shore remark'ble, now, how all them Red Dog peoplestays intox'cated while they sojourns in Wolfville. Never knows itto fail; an' I allows, as a s'lootion that a-way, it's owin' to thesooperior merits of our nose-paint. It's a compliment they pays us. 

"However, this Red Dog gent's drinkin' is his own affairs. An' hisearnestness about licker may have been his system; then ag'in it maynot; I don't go pryin' none to determine. But bein' he's plumbdrunk, as you readily discerns, it keeps up a barrier ag'in growin'intimate with this party; an' ontil Toothpick opens on him, hisintercourse 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 acamp--but, as I'm sayin', this totterin' wreck I mentions comesstragglin' up, more or less permiscus an' vague, an', without sayin'a word or makin' a sign, or even shakin' a bush, stands about lariatdistance away an' star's at Toothpick, blinkin' his eyes mightymalevolent. 

"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 amongus where we're standin', an' is at that time mentionin' Freighter'sStew, 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 todance in Toothpick's eyes; with that impulsive sperit of his, he'sdoo 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 hiseyes picketed on Toothpick like he's found a victim. Toothpick isfidgetin' on his feet, with his thumbs stuck in his belt; which thislast is a bad symptom, as it leaves a gent's artillery easy toreach. 

"It strikes me at the time that it's even money thar's goin' to besome shootin'. I don't then nor now know why none. But thatignorance is common about shootin's; two times in three nobody everdoes know why. 

"I reckons now it's Toothpick's fidgetin' makes me suspicious he'son the brink of rousin' the o'casion with his six-shooter. Which ifhe's cool an' ca'm, it would never come to me that a-way; a coolgent never pulls the first gun, leastways never when the pretext isfriv'lous an' don't come onder the head of 'Must'. 

"'Well. ' savs Toothpick ag'in, 'whatever be you-all gloatin' over, Iasks? Or, mebby you're thinkin' of 'doptin' me as a son orsomethin'?' says Toothpick. 

"Still the party from Red Dog don't say nothin'. As Toothpickceases, however, this Red Dog person makes a move, which isreasonable quick, for his hip. He's got on a long coat, an' while nogent 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'ttraveled two inches onder his surtoot, when Toothpick cuts free his'44, an' the Red Dog party hits the ground, face down, like a kyardjest dealt. 

"Yes, he's dead enough; never does kick or flutter once. It'sshorely a shot in the cross. 

"`Do you-all note how he tries to fill his hand on me?' asksToothpick, 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' morevig'rous than a peaceful flask of whiskey, which the same is stillall safe in his r'ar pocket. 

"'He warn't heeled!' says Toothpick, straightenin' up an' lookin' atus apol'getic an' disgusted. 

"It's jestice to Toothpick to say, I never yet overtakes that gentwho's more abashed an' discouraged than he is when he finds thisperson 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 yeremotion 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 Ionderstands, while acknowledgin' my fal'cies, the least I can do isto respect deceased's last wishes. I tharfore, " says Toothpick, raisin' the Red Dog party's flask, "complies with what, if I hadn'tinterrupted him, would have been his last requests. An' regrettin' Idon'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' himfor what's a plain case of bad jedgment, an' nothin' more. Butstill, Wolfville takes a notion ag'in him, an' don't want him 'roundnone. So he has to freight out. 

"'You are all right, Toothpick, speakin' gen'ral, ' says Old ManEnright, when him an' Doc Peets an' Jack Moore comes up on Toothpickto notify him it's the Stranglers' idee he'd better pack his wagonsan' hit the trail, "but you don't hold your six-shooter enough inwhat Doc Peets yere calls 'abeyance. ' Without puttin' no stain onyour 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 whatI states, an' of you droppin' this yere Red Dog gent--not an ounceof iron on him at the time!--while we exonerates, we decides withouta 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 tocommit sooicide, you'll be partic'lar to be with us at the hour Inames. '"

CHAPTER VI. 

The Wolfville Daily Coyote. 

You-all remembers back, " said the Old Cattleman, "that yeretofore Isu'gests how at some appropriate epock, I relates about the comin'of Colonel William Greene Sterett an' that advent of Wolfville'sgreat daily paper, the Coyote. "

It was evening and sharply in the wake of dinner. We were gatheredunto ourselves in my friend's apartments. In excellent mood to hearof Colonel Sterett and his celebrated journal, I eagerly assured himthat his promise in said behalf was fresh and fragrant in my memory, and that I trusted he would find present opportunity for itsredemption. Thus encouraged, the old gentleman shoved the box ofcigars towards me, poured a generous glass, and disposed himself tobegin. 

"Red Dog in a sperit of vain competition, " observed my friend, "starts a paper about the same time Colonel Sterett founds theCoyote; an', son, for a while, them imprints has a lurid life! TheRed Dog paper don't last long though; it lacks them elements oflongevity which the Coyote possesses, an' it ain't runnin' manyweeks before it sort o' rots down all at once, an' the editor jumpsthe 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 thatRed 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' TexasThompson, that no editor could flourish an' no paper survive insurroundin's so plumb venomous an' p'isen as Red Dog. Moreover, Iholds that Colonel Sterett, onintentional no doubt, takes aja'ndiced view of that brother publisher. But I rides ahead of mytale. 

"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 inhis hand. 

"'Yere's a matter, ' he says, 'of public concern, an' I asks for afull expression of the camp for answer. Yere's a sharp by the nameof Colonel William Greene Sterett, who writes me as how he'ssufferin' to let go all holts in the States an' start a paper inWolfville. It shall be, he says, a progressif an' enlightenedjournal, devoted to the moral, mental an' material upheaval of thisyere commoonity, an' he aims to learn our views. Do I hear anyremarks on this litteratoor's prop'sition?' "Tell him to come a-runnin', Enright, " says Jack Moore; "an' draw it strong. If thar'sone want which is slowly but shorely crowdin' Wolfville to the wall, it's a dearth of literatoor; yere's our chance, an' we plays itquick an high. "

"I ain't so gala confident of all this, " says Dan Boggs. "I'm sorto' allowin' this hamlet's too feeble yet for a paper. Startin' apaper in a small camp this a-way is like givin' a six-shooter to aboy; 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 assudden a white man, mental, as I ever sees; "my notion is to bringhim along. The mere idee of a paper'll do a heap for the town. "

"I'm entertainin' sentiments sim'lar, ' says Enright; "an' I guessI'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 inTucson, 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 theleast. "

"That's whatever!" says Moore. "If we allows Red Dog to put it ontous 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 comespackin in his layout an' opens up his game. Colonel Sterett, personal, is a broad, thick, fine-seemin' gent, with a smooth, highfor'ead, grey eyes, an' a long, honest face like a hoss. The Colonelhas a far-off look in his eyes, like he's dreamin' of thingssublime, which Doc Peets says is the common look of lit'rary gentsthat a-way. Texas Thompson, however, allows he witnesses the samedistant 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 fewof them earliest items; which I'm able to give these yere noticesexact, as I preserves a file of the Coyote complete. I shorelywouldn't be without it; none whatever!

"Miss Faro Nell, Wolfville's beautiful and accomplished societybelle, condescended to grace the post of lookout last night for thegame presided over by our eminent townsman, Mr. Cherokee Hall. 

"Ain't it sweet?" says Faro Nell, when she reads it. "I thinks it'sjest 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 adventurethe latter under conditions absolutely equitable with thatdistinguished courtier of fortune, Mr. Cherokee Hall. 

"If Mr. John Moore, our efficient Marshal, will refrain from pinninghis targets for pistol practice to the exterior of our building, wewill bow our gratitude when next we meet. The bullets go rightthrough. 

"We were distressed last week to note that Mr. James Hamilton, thegentlemanly and urbane proprietor of Wolfville's temple ofterpsichoir (see ad, in another column) had changed whiskeys on us, and was dispensing what seemed to our throat a tincture of thecommon carpet tack of commerce. It is our hope that Mr. H. , onseeing this, will at once restore the statu quo at his justlypopular resort. 

"A reckless Mexican was parading the street the other night carryingin his hand a monkey wrench. It was dark, and Mr. Daniel Boggs, aleading citizen of Wolfville, who met him, mistaking the wrench fora pistol which the Mexican was carrying for some vile purpose, veryproperly shot him. Mexicans are far too careless this way. 

"The O. K. Restauraw is one of the few superior hostelries of theTerritory. Mrs. Rucker, its charming proprietress, is a cook whomight outrival even that celebrated chef, now dead, M. Soyer. Herpies are poems, her bread an epic, and her beans a dream, Mrs. Rucker has cooked her way to every heart, and her famedestablishment is justly regarded as the bright particular gem inWolfville's municipal crown. 

"It is not needed for us to remind our readers that Wolfvillepossesses in the person of that celebrated practitioner of medicine, Mr. Cadwallader Peets, M. D. , a scientist whose fame is world-wideand whose renown has reached to furthest lands. Doctor Ports hasbeautifully mounted the skull of that horse-stealing ignobility, Bear Creel. Stanton, who recently suffered the punishment due hismany crimes at the hands of our local vigilance committee, atribunal which under the discerning leadership of President Enright, never fails in the administration of justice. Doctor Peets will beglad to exhibit this memento mori to all who care to call. DoctorPeets, who is eminent as a phrenologist, avers that said skull isremarkable for its thickness, and that its conformation points tothe possession by Bear Creek, while he wore it, of the most powerfulnatural inclinations to crime. From these discoveries of DoctorPeets, the committee which suspended this felon to the windmill isto be congratulated on acting just in time. It seems plain from thecontour of this skull that it would not have been long, had not thecommittee intervened, before Bear Creek would have added murder tohorse larceny, and to-day the town might be mourning the death of avalued citizen instead of felicitating itself over the taking-off ofa villain whose very bumps indict and convict him with every fairand enlightened intelligence that is brought to their contemplation. 

"Our respected friend and subscriber, Mr. David Tutt, and hisbeautiful and accomplished lady, Mrs. David Tutt, nee Tucson Jennie, have returned from their stay in Silver City. Last night in honor oftheir coming, and to see their friends, this amiable and popularpair gave an At Home. There was every form of refreshment, and joyand merriment was unconfined. Miss Faro Dell was admittedly thebelle 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 'PocatelloReel' 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 intricatedance known as the 'Mountain Lion Mazourka, ' accompanying theirefforts with spirited vocalisms meant to imitate the defiant screamsof a panther on its native hills. These cries, as well as the danceitself, were highly realistic, and Messrs. B. And T. Were made therecipients of many compliments. Mr. And Mrs. Tutt are to becongratulated on the success of the function; to fully describe itsmany excellent features would exhaust encomium. 

"Which we reads the foregoin' with onmixed pleasure, an' thar ain'ta gent but who's plumb convinced that a newspaper, that a-way, isthe bulwark of civilizations an' corner-stone of Americaninstitootions, 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 itwith every certainty of a-killin'. Also, I remembers yereafter aboutthem bullets. '

"Meanwhile, like I states prior, Red Dog has its editor, who whirlsloose a paper which he calls the Stingin' Lizard. The Red Dog sheetain't a marker to Colonel Sterett's Coyote, an' it's the yooniversalidee in Wolfville, after ca'mly comparin' the two papers, thatColonel Sterett as a editor can simply back that Red Dog personplumb off the ground. 

"It ain't no time before Colonel Sterett an' the Red Dog editortakes to cirklin' for trouble, an' the frightful names they appliesto each other in their respectif journals, an' the accoosations an'them epithets they hurls, would shore curdle the blood of a grizzlyb'ar. 

"An' as if to complicate the sityooation for that onhappy sportwho's gettin' out the Red Dog Stingin' Lizard, he begins to havetrouble local. Thar's a chuck-shop at Red Dog--it's a plumb lowj'int; I never knows it to have any grub better than beans, salt pigan' airtights, --which is called the Abe Lincoln House, an' is keptby 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 Blandan' squar's accounts that a-way. 

"This goat is jest a simple-minded, every-day, common kind of agoat; 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 theRed 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'smighty soon when the editor discovers it an' lays for the goatpermiscus; he goes to chunkin' of him up a whole lot. The goat'sgame an' declar's himse'f, an' thar starts a altercation with theeditor 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 drugBorne. The paper is stopped an' the editor puts in this:

"Our presses are stopped to-day to say that if the weak-mindedperson who maintains the large, black goat which infests ourstreets, does not kill the beast, we will. To-day, while engaged inworking off our mammoth edition out back of our building, thethievish creature approached unnoticed and consumed seventeen copiesof the Stingin' Lizard. 

"Which this yere Bland gets incensed at this, an' puts it up theeditor can't eat with him no more. But better counsel smooths itover, 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 editormaintains them hostilities. The way they lams loose at each other intheir papers is a terror. I allers reckons Colonel Sterett gets aheap 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, whenColonel Sterett decides that the o'casion calls for somethin' moreexplicit. As he says, 'Patience ceases to be trumps, ' an' so hesaddles up a whole lot an' rides over to Red Dog, personal. ColonelSterett don't impart them plans of his to no one; he simply descendson his foe, sole an' alone, like that game an' chivalrous gent ofbell letters which he shorely is; an', son, Colonel Sterett makes aexample of that slander-mongerin' Red Dog editor. 

"It's about the last drink time in the mornin', an' a passel of themRed Dog sports is convened in front of the Tub of Blood s'loon, whenthey-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 orso, he hits the ground, an' them Red Dog folks goes over to get therights of this yere phenomenon. He ain't hurt so but what he gets upan' limps 'round, an' he tells 'em it's the Wolfville editor doesit. Next time the Stingin' Lizard comes out, we reads about it:

"The gasconading reptile who is responsible for the slimy life ofthat prurient sheet, the Coyote, paid us a sneaking visit Saturday. If he had given us notice of his intentions, we would have preparedourselves and torn his leprous hide from his dehauched and whiskey-poisoned frame, and polluted our fence with it, but he did not. Trueto his low, currish nature, he crept upon us unawares. Our back wastoward him as he entered, perceiving which the cowardly poltroonseized us and threw us through our own window. Having accomplishedhis fiendish work, the miscreant left, justly fearing our wrath. TheStinging Lizard's exposure of this scoundrel as a drunkard, embezzler, wife-beater, jail-bird, thief, and general all-roundblackleg prompted this outrage. Never mind, the creature will hearfrom us. 

"'Which this newspaper business is shorely gettin' some bilious, notto say hectic, a whole lot, ' says Dan Boggs, as we reads this. 'Iwonder if these yere folks means fight?'

"'Why, ' says Enright, 'I don't know as they'd fight none if we-alllets 'em alone, but I don't see how we can. This sort of racket goeson for years in the East, but Wolfville can't stand it. Sech talk asthis means blood in Arizona, an' we insists on them traditions thata-way bein' respected. Besides, we owes somethin' to ColonelSterett. '

"So Enright an' Cherokee hunts up our editor an' asks him whateverhe aims to do, an' tells him he's aroused public sentiments to sechheights thar'll be a pop'lar disapp'intment if he don't challengethe Red Dog editor an' beef him. Colonel Sterett allows he's crazyto do it, an' that the Wolfville public can gamble he'll go thedistance. So Cherokee an' Jack Moore puts on their guns an' goesover to Red Dog to fix time an' place. The Red Dog editor says he'swith 'em, an' they shakes dice for place, an' Cherokee an' Moorewins. 

"'Which as evidence of good faith, ' says Cherokee, 'we picks RedDog. We pulls this thing off on the very scene of the vict'ry ofColonel Sterett when he hurls your editor through his window thattime. 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 onthat. '

"'Oh, we ain't apprehensif none, ' says Cherokee an' Jack; 'you canshorely look for us. '

"Well, the day's come, an' all Wolfville an' Red Dog turns out tosee the trouble. Jack Moore an' Cherokee Hall represents for oureditor, an' a brace of Red Dog people shows down for the Stingin'Lizard man. To prevent accidents, Enright an' the Red Dog chiefmakes every gent but them I names, leave their weepons some'erselse, wherefore thar ain't a gun in what you-all might call thehands 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 crowdcomes that abandoned goat. The presence of so many folks seems likeit makes him onusual hostile. Without waitin' to catch his breatheven, he lays for the Red Dog editor, who, seein' him comin', bangsaway with his '45 an' misses. The goat hits that author in the tailof his coat, an' over he goes; but he keeps on slammin' away withthe '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 secondnobody's in sight but them two journalists an' that goat. I'll sayright yere, son, Colonel Sterett an' his fellow editor an' the goatwages the awfullest battle which I ever beholds. Which you shorelyoughter heard their expressions. Each of 'em lets go every load he'sgot, 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'sended. 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 backto the Abe Lincoln House, where this yere Pete Bland is onreasonableenough to back that shockin conduct of his'n. 

"Which it's the last of the Red Dog Stingin' Lizard. That editorallows he won't stay, an' Bland, still adherin' to his goat, allowshe 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 inTucson; and if we have been weak and mendacious enough to speak infavor of a party of the name of Bland, who misconducts a low beanerywhich insults an honourable man by stealing his name--we refer tothat feed-trough called the Abe Lincoln House--we will correctourselves in its columns. This person harbours a vile goat, forwhose death we will pay5, and give besides a life-long subscription to our new paper. Lastweek this mad animal made an unprovoked assault upon us and aprofessional brother, and beat, butted, wounded, bruised and ill-treated us until we suffer in our whole person. We give notice as wedepart, that under no circumstances will we return until this goatis extinct. 

"Followin' the onexpected an' thrillin' finish of Colonel Sterett'sdooel with the Red Dog editor, an' from which Colonel Sterettemerges onscathed, an' leavin' Peets with his new patient, we allreturns in a body to Wolfville. After refreshments in the Red Light, Enright gives his views. 

"'Ondoubted, ' observes Enright, 'our gent, Colonel Sterett, conductshimse'f in them painful scenes between him an' the goat an' that RedDog editor in a manner to command respects, an' he returns withhonors from them perils. Ther's no more to be done. The affaircloses without a stain on the 'scutcheon of Wolfville, or the fairfame of Colonel Sterett; which last may continyoo to promulgate hisvalyooable 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 therecognitions and privileges of the dooello to a party who's sunk solow as to have hostile differences with a goat, an' who persistspublicly in followin'em to bitter an voylent concloosions. This RedDog editor's done put himself outside the pale of any high-speritedgent's consideration by them actions, an' can claim no furthernotice. Gents, in the name of Wolfville, I tenders congrat'lationsto Colonel Sterett on the way in which he meets the dangers of hisp'sition, an' the sooperb fashion!!! which he places before us oneof the greatest journals of our times. Gents, we drinks to ColonelWilliam 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 fortunelost and won. "Which I'm not remorseless enough to be a cleanstraingambler. Of course, a kyard sharp can make benevolences an' lavishdust 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 thesore people. He must play his system through, an' with no moreconscience than cows, no matter who's run down in the stampede. "Forwhich causes, bein' plumb tender an' sympathetic, I'm shore no goodwith kyards; an' whenever I dallies tharwith, it is onder the headof amoosements. "Do I regyard gamblin' as immoral? No; I don'treckon none now I do. This bein' what you--all church sharps callsmoral is somewhat a matter of health, an' likewise the way youfeels. Sick folks usual is a heap more moral than when theirhealth's that excellent it's tantalizin'. "Speakin' of morals, Irecalls people who would scorn kyards, but who'd admire to buy awidow'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 degreewhich permits said outrage, would turn up. The right or wrong, whatyou calls the morality of gatherin' steers for four dollars an'plunderin' people with 'em at forty dollars, wouldn't bother 'em abit. Which the question with these yere wolves is simply: 'Howlittle can I pay an' how much can I get?' An' yet, as I says, sechparties mighty likely holds themse'fs moral to a degree which ismountainous, an' wouldn't take a twist at faro-bank, or pick up apoker hand, more'n they'd mingle with t'rant'lers an' stingin'lizards. An' some of their moral sports is so onlib'ral! I tellsyou, son, I've met up with 'em who's that stingy that if they owneda 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' agent for his roll with steers at forty dollars--the same standin'you in four--an' layin for him by raisin' the ante for the limitbefore 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 theonearthin' tharof is shore too many for dim-eyed folks like me. Theystrikes me a heap sim'lar; only the kyard sharp goes out ag'instchances which the steer sharp escapes complete. 

"I reckons Cherokee Hall an' me discusses how wrong gamblin' ishundreds of times on leesure days; we frequent talks of itimmoderate. Cherokee's views an' mine is side an' side, mostly, although, makin' his livin' turnin' kyards, of course he's morequalified 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, orthinks he's wronged gets diffusive with his gun. At sech epocks thisdevice has its burdens, I concedes. But I don't perceive noimmorality; none whatever. '

"Yes, now you asks the question, I does inform you a while back ofthis Cherokee Hall bein' prone to charity. He never is much of atalker, but in his way he's a mighty gregar'ous gent. About somethings he's game as hornets, Cherokee is; but his nerve fails himwhen it comes to seein' other people suffer. He can stand bad luckhimse'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-eyedsport is robbin' his roll for somebody who's settin' in ag'instdisaster. Fact; Cherokee's a heap weak that a-way. 

"Of course, turnin' faro, Cherokee knows who has money an' who needsit; keeps tab, so to speak, on the fluctooations of the camp'sfinances closer'n anybody. The riches an' the poverty of Wolfvilleis sort o' exposin' itse'f 'round onder his nose; it's a open bookto him; an' the knowledge of who's flat, or who's flush, is thrustonto him continyoous. As I says, bein' some sentimental about themhard ships of others, the information costs Cherokee hard onto adiurnal stack or two. 

"'Which you're too impulsive a whole lot, ' I argues onct when aprofligate he's staked, an' who reports himse'f as jumpin' sidewaysfor grub previous, goes careerin' over to the dance hall with themalms he's wrung, an' proceeds on a debauch. 'You oughter not allowthem 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 aheap more at the end of the week. Now this ingrate whose hand youstiffens ain't buyin' nothin' but nose-paint tharwith. '

"'Which the same plants no regrets with me, ' says Cherokee, allcareless an' indifferent. 'If this person is sufferin' for whiskeyworse'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' heldback. I don't go playin' the despot as to how he blows it. If thisyere party I relieves wants whiskey an' is buyin' whiskey, Iapproves his play. If I've a weakness at all, it's for seein' folksfetterless an' free. '

"While holdin' Cherokee's views erroneous, so far as he seeks toapply 'em to paupers tankin' up on donations, still I allows it'sdealin' faro which has sp'iled him; an' as you can't make no gentover new, I quits an' don't buck his notions about dispensin'charity no more. "Thar's times when this yere Cherokee Hall caromson 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 aboutaid, they simply dies standin' before they'll ever ask. 

"Once or twice when Cherokee crosses up with one of these yeresensitif souls, an' who's in distress, he never says a word aboutgivin' 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', sohe don't arouse the victim to suspicions that he's bein' played--Cherokee'll disarrange things so he loses a small stake to him. Whenhe's got this distressed gent's finances reehabilitated some, heshoves out an' quits. 

"'An' you can put it flat down, ' remarks Cherokee, who'ssooperstitious, 'I never loses nothin' nor quits behind on theseyere benevolences. Which I oft observes that Providence comes backof my box before ever the week's out, an' makes good. '

"'I once knows a sport in Laredo, ' says Texas Thompson, to whomCherokee 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 charityracket. He tells me himse'f he's been addicted to this scheme solong it's got to be a appetite, an' that he never fails to winhimse'f outen the hole with what's left. You bet! I believes it; Isees this hold-up do it. '

"I ain't none shore thar ain't some bottom to them bluffs whichCherokee an' Texas puts up about Providence stockin' a deck yourway, an' makin' good them gifts. At least, thar's times when itlooks 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 gentnamed Ellis to somethin' like a yellow stack, so he can pull hisfreight 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 findshow 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 Ellisis a mighty decent form of shorthorn--an' concloodes, all byhimse'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'sbetter to let him think he wins the stuff, an' not lacerate him byno gifts direct. Another thing, this yere Ellis tenderfoot is plumbcontrary; he's shore contrary to the notch of bein' cap'ble ofdeclinin' 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 DanBoggs 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' tomore'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 thenhe is out for a little stretch at poker as mere relief. Also Danobjects strenyoous. 

"'Which I don't have no luck at faro-bank, ' says Dan. 'I doesnothin' but lose for a month; I'm made sullen by it. The only bet Istands to win at faro, for plumb four weeks, is a hundred dollarswhich I puts on a case queen, coppered, over in Tucson the otherday. An' I lose that. I'm a hoss-thief if, exackly as the queen iscomin' my way, that locoed Tucson marshal don't take a slam at agent with his six-shooter an' miss; an' the bullet, which is dodgin'an' meanderin' down the room, crosses the layout between the dealeran' me, an' takes the top chip off my bet. An' with it goes thecopper. Before I can restore them conditions, the queen falls tolose; an' not havin' no copper on my bet, of course, I'mimpoverished for that hundred as aforesaid. You knows the roole--every bet goes as it lays. Said statoote is fully in force inTucson; an' declinin' to allow anythin' for wild shootin' by thatfool marshal, them outcasts corrals my chips. "However do I knowthar'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 anaccident, an' mebby ag'in that hom'cide who's bustin' 'round yerewith his gun, is in league with you-all, an' shoots that copper offdesignful, thinkin' the queen's comin' the other way. If accidentsis allowed to control in faro-bank, the house would never win achip. " 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 vowsnot to put a peso on another layout for a year. As the time limitain'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, orCherokee stays out for the looks of the thing, Dan goes to the frontan' sweetens Ellis for a handful of chips. 

"Little by little, by layin' down good hands, breakin' pa'rs beforea draw, an' gen'rally carryin' on tail-first an' scand'lous, Cherokee an' Dan is gettin' a few layers of fat on Ellis' ribs. Butthey has to lay low to do it. Oh! he'd kick over the table in asecond if he even smells the play. 

"Now yere's where Providence makes its deboo. It happens while thesecharities is proceedin', a avaricious gent--a stranger within ourgates, he is--after regyardin' the game awhile, takes to deemin' iteasy. The avaricious gent wants in; an' as Ellis, who's a heapelated at his luck an' is already talkin' of the killin' he'smakin', says 'Yes, ' an' as Dan an' Cherokee can't say 'No' withoutbein' onp'lite, the avaricious gent butts in. It all disturbsCherokee, who's a nervous sharp; an' when he sees how greedy theavaricious gent is for what he deems to be a shore thing, heconcloodes 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 onhis part gets driven out each hand; an' Ellis an' the avariciousgent is doin' what little winnin's bein' done, between 'em. It'sevident by this time, too, the avaricious gent's layin' forCherokee. This oninstructed person looks on Cherokee as bothimbecile an' onlucky to boot. 

"The avaricious gent gets action suddener than he thinks. It's ajack pot. She goes by Ellis an' Dan; then Cherokee breaks her forthe limit, two bloo chips, the par value whereof is ten dollars. "'You breaks for ten?' says the avaricious gent, who's on Cherokee'sleft an' has the last say; 'well, I sees the break an' lifts it thelimit. ' 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 doessomethin' 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, aspeevish as a sick infant. 'You sees me settin' yere in the muddiestof luck; can't you a-bear to let me win a pot? You ain't got no handto come in on neither, an' I'll bet on it. You jest nacherallystacks 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 onmaskyou an' show my friends, as I says, that you ain't got a thing, I'llwager you two on the side, right now, that the pa'r of jacks Ibreaks on, is bigger than the hand on which you comes in an' makesthat two-button tilt. ' As he says this, Cherokee regyards theavaricious 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 withCherokee'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 theavaricious gent. Which he's plumb wolf, an' out for every drop ofblood!

"'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 goag'in! I can't beat nothin'; which I couldn't beat a drum! "Theavaricious gent c'llects them two azure bones; after which hediskyards three, drawin' to his two kings, an' sets back to win themain 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 theside an' asks for two kyards. '

"The avaricious gent adds a third king to his list an' feels likesunny weather. Cherokee picks up his hand after the draw, an' theavaricious gent, who's viewin' him sharp, notes that he looks a heapmorbid. 

"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 standsome show. Which I'd bluff you outen your moccasins if I wasn'treepressed by a limit whereof a child should be ashamed. I shoredon't know how I mislays my se'f-respect to sech a pitch as to gosettin' into these yere paltry plays. '

"'Which you see yere a lot!' says the avaricious gent, shakin' withdelight, an' lookin' at them three crowned heads he holds; 'don'thowl all night about a wrong what's so easy to rectify. We removesthe limits, an' you can spread your pinions an' soar to anyaltitoode you please. '

"Cherokee looks at him hateful as a murderer; he seems like he'sbein' goaded. Then, like he's made up his mind to die right yere, Cherokee turns in without no more words an' bets five hundreddollars. It makes Ellis, who's new an' plumb poor that a-way, sorto' draw a long breath. 

"'Which you'll climb some for this pot if you gets it, ' saysCherokee, after his money's up; an' his tones is shore resentful. 

"The avaricious gent thinks it's a bluff. He deems them three kingsgood. 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 theway this sordid sport lines up Cherokee's hand. "'Merely to show youthe 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 herback the same. ' An' the avaricious gent counts off a thousanddollars. '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 isgone, 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 inthe way Cherokee feels. It's cl'ar, as one looks in his face, thatthem trio of kings ain't no sech monstrosities as they was. He ain'thalf so shore they wins. After lookin' a while he says, an' histones shows he's plumb doobious:

"'That last raise over-sizes me. '

"`That's it!' groans Cherokee, like his contempt for all mankind iscomin' back. 'By the time I gets a decent hand every sport at thetable's broke. What show do I have! However, I pinches down to meetyour poverty. Put up what stuff you has. '

"The avaricious gent slowly gets up his last peso; he's out on alimb, 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 thedust. 

"'Next time, ' says Cherokee, 'don't come fomentin' 'round pokergames which is strangers to you complete. Moreover, don't let a genttalk you into fal'cies touchin' his hand. Which I'm the proudproprietor of them three aces when I breaks the pot. You-all losethis time; but if you'll only paste them dogmas I gives you in yoursombrero, an' read 'em over from time to time, you'll notice theyflows a profit. We three, 'concloodes Cherokee, turnin' ag'in to Danan' Ellis, 'will now resoome our wrong-doin' at the p'int where thisyere former plootocrat interrupts. A benign Providence has fixed meplenty strong. Wherefore, if either of you sports should tap me fora 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 roseloudly as he commanded the approach of that buoyant servitor, whosupervised his master's destinies, and performed in the triangularrole of valet, guardian and friend. "Yere, you; go to the barkeep ofthis tavern an' tell him to frame me up a pitcher of that peachbrandy an' honey the way I shows him how. An' when he's got herorganized, bring it out to us with two glasses by the fire. You-allain'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 asdry as a covered bridge. " I readily assented to peach and honey. Iwould agree to raw whiskey if it were needed to appease him andpermit 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 claimsmy respects entire; that's its nose-paint. Which we shorely suffersin the Southwest from beverages of the most ornery kind. "

"There's a word I've wanted to ask you about more than once, " Isaid. "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 doI rope onto any word? I jest nacherally reaches out an' acquires ita whole lot, like I do the rest of the language I employs. As forwhat it means, I would have allowed that any gent who escapes bein'as weak-minded as Thompson's colt--an' that cayouse is that imbecilehe used tos wim a river to get a drink--would hesitate with shame toask sech questions. 

"'Ornery' is a word the meanin' whereof is goin' to depend a heap onwhat you brands with it. " This was said like an oracle. "Also, thesame means more or less accordin' to who all puts the word in play. I remembers a mighty decent sort of sport, old Cape Willingham itis; an' yet Dan Boggs is forever referrin' to old Cape as 'ornery. 'An' I reckon Dan thinks he is. Which the trouble with Cape, fromDan's standpoint, is this: Cape is one of these yere preciseparties, acc'rate as to all he does, an' plenty partic'lar about hislooks. An Osage buck, paintin' for a dance, wouldn't worry more overhis feachers, an' the way the ocher should be streaked on. 

"Now this yere Cape is shy an eye, where an Apache pokes it out witha lance, back in Cochise's time; an', as he regyards his countenanceas seemin' over rocky, bein' redooced to one eye as I relates, hesends East an' gets a glass eye. This ain't where Cape'stechnical'ties about his looks trails in, however; an', if he hadpaused thar in his rehabilitations, Boggs allers put it up he'd a-found no fault. But Cape notices that about tenth drink time hisshore-enough eye begins for to show up bloodshot, an' is a bad matefor the glass eye, the same bein' onaffected by drink. So what doesCape do but have a bloodshot eye made, an' takes to packin' the sameon his person constant. As Cape drinks his forty drops allcommodious, he sort o' keeps tabs on himse'f in the lookin' glassback of the bar; an' when the good eye commences to turn red withthem libations he's countin' into the corral, he ups an' shifts hisbresh; digs out the white eye an' plants the drunken eye in theplace. 

"Shore! none of us cares except Dan Boggs; but Dan feels it to thatextent, it's all Colonel Sterett an' Doc Peets an' Old Man Enrightcan do, added to Dan's bein' by nacher a born gent that a-way, tokeep Dan from mentionin' it to old Cape. 

"'A gent who comes from a good fam'ly, like you-all, ' says Old ManEnright to Dan, sort o' soothin' of him, 'oughter be removed abovemakin' comments on pore old Cape shiftin' his optics. Troo! it's aweakness, but where is the sport who hasn't weaknesses likewise. Which you-all is a mighty sight to one side of bein' perfectyourse'f, Dan, an' yet we don't go 'round breakin' the informationoff in you every tinic you makes a queer play. An' you must b'arwith Cape, an' them caprices of his. ' "'I ain't denyin' nothin', 'declar's Dan. 'I'm the last longhorn in Wolfville to be revilin' oldCape, an' refoosin' him his plain American right to go pirootin''round among his eyes as suits his taste. But I'm a mighty nervousman 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 themeyes gives me the fantods. Onder all the circumstances, I claims hisconduct is ornery, an' not what a invalid like me has a right toexpect. '

"No; Dan never says nothin' to Cape; or does anythin' 'cept talk toEnright 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 shorelyfeels them shifts. Many a time, when it's go to be red eye time withCape, an' as the latter is scroop'lously makin' said transfers, haveI beheld Dan arise in silent agony, an' go to bite hunks outen apine shelf that is built on the Red Light wall. 

"'Which that ornery Cape, ' says Dan, as he picks the splinters fromhis mouth after sech exercises, 'would drive me as locoed as acoyote 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 onwho uses it, an' what for. Now Dan never refers to old Cape exceptas 'ornery;' while Enright an' the rest of us sees nothin' from sodato hock in Cape, doorin' them few months he mingles with us, whichmerits sech obloquys. 

"No; ornery is a word that means what it says an' is shoredeescriptif. Coyotes is ornery, sheep is ornery; an' them low-flunghoomans who herds sheep is ornery, speshul. Of course, the term hasmisapplications; as an extreme case, I've even heard ign'ranttenderfeet who alloodes to the whole West as 'ornery. ' But themfolks 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 Westhas been some loyal to me. Troo! it stands to reason that a partyfresh from the East, where the horns has been knocked offeneverythin' for two or three hundred years, an' conditions genial isas soft as a goose-ha'r pillow, is goin' to notice some turgidchanges when he lands in Arizona. But a shorthorn, that a-way, should reserve his jedgment till he gets acquainted, or getslynched, or otherwise experiences the West in its troo colors. WhileArizona, for speciment, don't go up an' put her arms about the neckof every towerist that comes chargin' into camp, her failure toperform said rites arises rather from dignity than hauteur. Arizonadon't put on dog; but she has her se'f-respectin' ways, an' stands apat hand on towerists. 

"If I was called on to lay out a system to guide a tenderfoot who isconsiderin' on makin' Arizona his home-camp, I'd advise him to makehis 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 hisletters, or change in whatever sums seems meet to him at the NewYork 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 thelimit if he so pleased. But still, most likely every gent in campwould maintain doorin' his novitiate a decent distance with thisyere stranger; they wouldn't onbuckle an' be drunk with him free an'social like, an' with the bridle off, like pards who has crossed theplains together an' seen extremes. All this, with a chill onto it, atenderfoot would find himse'f ag'inst for the first few months inWolfville. 

"An' yet, my steer to him would be not to get discouraged. Thecamp'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 shorecome winner on the deal. At the end of three months, or mebby inonusual cases four months, jest as this yere maverick is goin' intothe dance hall, or mebby the Red Light, some gent will chunk him onein 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 hispresence of mind. He don't want to go makin' no vain plays for hissix-shooter, or indulge in no sour ranikaboo retorts. That gentlikes him. With Wolfville social conditions, this yere greetin' iswhat you sports who comes from the far No'th calls 'the beginnin' ofthe thaw. The ice is breakin' up; an' if our candidate sets in hissaddle steady an' with wisdom at this back-thumpin', name-callin'epock, an' don't take to millin' 'round for trouble, in two minuteshim an' that gregar'ous gent who's accosted him is drinkin' an'fraternizin' together like two stage hold-ups in a strange camp. TheWest ain't ornery; she's simply reserved a whole lot. 

"Mighty likely now, " continued my friend, following a profound pausewhich was comfortably filled with peach and honey; "it's mightylikely now, comin' down to folks, that the most ornery party I everknows is Curly Ben. This yere Ben is killed, final; clowned by oldCaptain Moon. Thar's a strange circumstance attendin', as the paperssay, the obliteration of this Curly Ben, an' it makes a heap of animpression on me at the time. It shows how the instinct to dothings, that a bent is allers carryin' 'round in his mind, gets sorto' located in his nerves mebby, an' he'll do 'em without hisintellects 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 fetchesCurly Ben that time, Curly is playin' kyards. He's jest dealin', when, onbeknown to him, Moon comes Injunin' up from the r'arsurreptitious, an' drills Curly Ben through the head; an' the bulletbein' a '45 Colt's--for Moon ain't toyin' with Curly an' meansbusiness--goes plumb through an' emerges from onder Curly Ben's offeye. 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 Istates--an' he never knows what hits him, an' is as dead as SantaAnna in a moment--is dealin' the kyards. He's got the deck in hishands. An' yet, when the public picks Curly off the floor, he'spulled his two guns, an' has got one cocked. Now what do you--alldeem of that for the workin' of a left-over impulse when a gent isdead?

"But, as I remarks yeretofore, Curly Ben is the most ornery person Iever overtakes, an' the feelin's of the camp is in nowise laid wastewhen Moon adds him to the list that time in the Red Light bar. It'sthis a-way:

"It's about a month before, when Captain Moon an' his nephy, withtwo 8-mule teams and four big three-an'-a-half Bain wagons, two leadan' two trail they be, comes freightin' out of Silver City withtheir eyes on Wolfville. It's the fourth night out, an' they'recamped near a Injun agency. About midnight a half dozen of the buckscomes scoutin' 'round their camp, allowin' to a moral certaintythey'll see what's loose an' little enough for 'em to pull. Theaborigines makes the error of goin' up the wind from Moon's mules, which is grazin' about with hobbles on, an' them sagacious anamilesactooally has fits. It's a fact, if you want to see a mule go plumbinto the air an' remain, jest let him get a good, ample, onmistakable smell of a Injun! It simply onhinges his reason; heain't no more responsible than a cimmaron sheep. No, it ain't thatthe savage is out to do anything oncommon to the mule; it's merelyone of the mule's illoosions, as I've told you once before. Jest thesame, 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 ontwo feet, Moon's nephy grabs a Winchester an' pumps a load or sointo the darkness for gen'ral results. An' he has a heap of luck. Heshorely stops one of them Apaches in his lopin' up, an' down theland 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 wisdomabout a savage, an' these yere Apaches ain't runnin' right in onMoon an' his relatif neither. They was perfeekly familiar with theaccoomulation of cartridges in a Winchester, an' tharfore goes aboutthe 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 allthrough sech festivals before, they regyards their final chances tobe 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 twoMoons, the Injun agent comes troopin' along. He seeks to round-uphis savages an' herd 'em back to the agency. The Apaches, on theirside, is demandin' the capture of the nephy Moon for sp'ilin' one oftheir young men. 

"The agent is a prairie dog jest out from the East, an' don't knowhalf as much about what's goin' on inside of a Apache as a hornedtoad. He comes down to the aige of hostil'ties, as you-all mightcall it, an' makes Moon an' his Winchester workin' nephy a speech. He addresses 'em a whole lot on the enormity of downin' Apaches whogoes prowlin' about an' scarin' up your mules at midnight, in whatthis 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 toline out for their camp; an' don't you yourse'f get too zealousneither an' come too clost, or as shore as I casts my first vote forMatty Van Buren, I'll plug you plumb center. '

"But the nephy, he thinks different. In spite of Captain Moon'sprotests, he gives himse'f up to the agent on the promise ofprotection. 

"'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 pokergame. '

"But this yere young Moon is obdurate an' goes over an' giveshimse'f to the agent, who puts it up he'll send him to Prescott tobe 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 ahalf mile, them wards of the gov'ment, as I once hears a big chieffrom Washin'ton call 'em, takes the nephy from this yere fallaciousagent 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 yourApache views things, does 'em proud. That nephy is immolated asfollows: 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 anthill close at hand; it's with reference to this yere ant colony thatthe nephy is staked out. In three hours from the tune them ants getsthe word from the Apaches, they've done eat the nephy up, an' thelast vestitch of him plumb disappears with the last ant, as thelatter resoomes his labors onder the earth. 

"Why, shore! these yere ants'll eat folks. They re-yards sechreepasts as festivals, an' seasons of reelaxation from the sternerdooties of a ant. I recalls once how we loses Locoed Charlie, whichdemented party I b'lieve I mentions to you prior. This yere Charlietakes 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. Charlietanks up on the whiskey of that hamlet, compared to which the worstnose-paint ever sold in Wolfville is nectar. They palms off mebbyit's a quart of this jooce on Charlie, an' then he p'ints out forWolfville. 

"That's the last of the pore drunkard. His pony is nickcrin' aboutthe corral gates, pleadin' with the mules inside to open 'em, in themornin', but no sign or smoke of Locoed Charlie. An' he never doesshow up no more. 

"If it's Enright or Cherokee Hall, or any valyooed citizen, tharwould have issooed forth a war party, an' Red Dog would have beensacked an' burned but what the missin' gent would have been turnedout. But it's different about Locoed Charlie. He hadn't that hold onthe 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 RedLight, I don't reckon now the Wolfville folks disturbs themse'fspartic'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, withthat load of Red Dog whiskey, an' every notion or idee or sensationabsolootely effaced. An' where Charlie loses is, he falls by a anthill. Yes; they shorely takes Charlie in. Thar's nothin' left of himwhen the teamster locates the remainder, but his clothes, his spursan' his 'natomy. The r'ar gyard of them ants has long since retiredwith the final fragments of Locoed Charlie. "You-all might o' seenthe story. Colonel Sterett writes it up in the Coyote, an' heads it, 'Hunger is a Terrible Thing. ' This sot Charlie comin' to his deaththat 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 onewho possesses public sperit, tries to look plumb dignified about it, an' remarks to Dave Tutt in the New York Store as how he thinks weoughter throw in around an' build a monument to Locoed Charlie. Daveallows that, while he's with Huggins in them projecks, he wants toadd 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' themonument to Locoed Charlie, as a enterprise, bogs down. But tocontinyoo 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 butone 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 committeelocal to them parts would string him up. But that ain't possible;this yere miscreant is a gov'ment official an' wears the gov'mentbrand, an' even the Stranglers, of whatever commoonity, ain't strongenough, 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', asprivate as possible, arrogate to himse'f the skelp of this yereagent who abandons his relatif to them hostiles. '

"Wolfville listens to Captain Moon's hist'ry of his wrongs; butaside from them eloocidations of Enright, no gent says much. Thar'ssome games where troo p'liteness consists in sayin' nothin' an'knowin' less. But the most careless hand in camp can see that Moon'saimin' at reprisals. 

"This Curly Ben is trackin' about Wolfville at the time. Curly ain'twhat you-all would call a elevated character. He's a rustler ofcattle, an' a smuggler of Mexican goods, an' Curly an' the YoonitedStates marshals has had more turn-ups than one. But Curly is deadgame; an' so far, he manages to either out-luck or out-shoot themmagistrates; an', as I says, when Moon comes wanderin' in that timemournin' for his nephy, Curly has been projectin' about camp forlike 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 knowshim, an' them Injuns knows him, an' it's even money, if he comespokin' into their bailiwick, they'll tumble to his errant. In sechevents, they're shore doo to corral him an' give them ants anotherholiday. 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 introuble, has Moon's confidence from the jump; 'I'll take a chance ona bowie knife; an' as for a gun, I simply courts the resk. But thenants dazzles me--I lay down to ants, an' I looks on it as nodisgrace to a gent to say so. ' "'Ants shorely do sound poignant, 'admits Dan, 'speshully them big black an' red ants that has stingerslike hornets an' pinchers like bugs. Sech insecks, armed to theteeth as they be, an' laid out to fight both ways from the middle, is likewise too many for me. I would refoose battle with 'emmyse'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' noone has to be told that Moon's makin' negotiations with Curly toride over an' down the agent. The idee is pecooliarly grateful toWolfville. It stands to win no matter how the kyards lay in the box. If Curly fetches the agent flutterin' from his limb, thar's onemiscreant less in Arizona, if the agent gets the drop an' puts outCurly Ben, it comes forth jest the same. It's the camp's theerythat, 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 insilent assent tharwith. "It comes out later that Moon agrees to giveCurly Ben fifteen hundred dollars an' a pony, if he'll go over an'kill off the agent. Curly Ben says the prop'sition is thepleasantest thing he hears since he leaves the Panhandle ten yearsbefore, an' so he accepts five hundred dollars an' the pony--thesame bein' the nacher of payments in advance--an' goes clatterin'off up the canyon one evenin' on his mission of jestice. An' then wehears no more of Curly Ben for about a month. No one marvels none atthis, however, as downin' any given gent is a prop'sition which inworkin' 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 theRed Light before he's hardly cl'ar of the saddle. Thar ain't nobodyin camp, from Doc Peets to Missis Rucker, but what's eager to knowthe finish of Curly's expedition, but of course everybody hobbleshis feelin's in them behalfs. It's Captain Moon's fooneral, an' heoughter have a first, oninterrupted say. Moon comes up to Curly Benwhere Curly is cuttin' the alkali dust outen his throat at the RedLight 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. 'inthe event I do?'

"'Right yere in my war-bags, ' says Moon, 'awaitin' to make good foryour tine an' talent an' trouble in revengin' my pore nephy'sdeemise by way of them insecks. ' An' Moon slaps his pocket aslocatin' the dinero. 

"'Well, I don't get him, ' says Curly Ben ca'mly, settin' his glasson the bar. 

"Thar's a pause of mebby two minutes, doorin' which Moon lookscloudy, as though he don't like the way the kyards is comin'; CurlyBen, on his part, is smilin' like what Huggins calls 'one of hissongstresses' over in the Bird Cage Op'ry House. After a bit, Moonresoomes them investigations. 

"'Don't I give you four stacks of reds an' a pony, ' he says, 'toreepair to that murderer an' floor-manage his obsequies? An' don't Ipromise you eight stacks more when you reports with that outcast'sy'ears an' ha'r, as showin' good faith?'

"'C'rrect; every word, ' says Curly Ben, lightin' a seegyar an thenleanin' his elbows on the bar, a heap onmoved. 

"'Which I would admire to know, then, ' says Moon, an' his eyes isgettin' little an' hard, 'why you-all don't made good themcompacts. '

"'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 thisyere victim of ours, I finds him to be a mighty profoose an' lavishform 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, heoffers me five thousand dollars to come back yere an' kill you. Nacherally, after that, me an' this yere subject of our plot takes afew 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'sshore 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, doyou raise this yere gent? He raises you as I explains; now do youquit, or tilt him, say, a thousand better?'

"'An' suppose I don't?' says Moon, sort o' figgerin' for a moment orso. '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 atonce, an' return to this agent gent an' accept that five thousanddollar honorarium he offers. '

"Curly Ben is 'bad' plumb through, an' the sights, as they says inthe picturesque language of the Southwest, has been filed from hisguns for many years. Which this last is runnin' in Moon's head whilehe talks with his disgustin' emmissary. Moon ain't out to takechances on gettin' the worst of it. An' tharfore, Moon at once waxescunnin' a whole lot. 

"'I'm a pore man, ' he says, `but if it takes them teams of mine, tothe last tire an' the last hoof, I've got to have this agent's ha'ran' y'ears. You camp around the Red Light awhile, Curly, till I goover to the New York Store an' see about more money. I'll be backwhile you're layin' out another drink. '

"Now it's not to the credit of Curly, as a crim'nal who puts thoughtinto his labors, that he lets Captain Moon turn his flank the easyway 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 atthis juncture that the only s'lootion I'm cap'ble of givin' it isthat it's preedestinated that a-way. Curly not only lets Moon walkoff, which after he hangs up that bluff about takin' them terms ofthe agent's is mighty irreg'lar, but he's that obtoose he sits downto 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 comeswalkin' into the Red Light door. He sees Curly where he sits atseven-up, with his back turned towards him. 

"'One for jack!' says Curly, turnin' that fav'rite kyard. Moon sorto' drifts to his r'ar. 

"'Bang!' says Moon's pistol, an' Curly falls for'ards onto thetable, 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 Lightan' 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 hisplay is the one trail out, for up to that p'int where Moon onhookshis guns, Curly ain't done nothin' to put him in reach of theStranglers. Committees of vig'lance, that a-way, like shore-enoughco'ts, can't prevent crime, they only punish it, an' up to whereMoon gets decisive action, thar's no openin' by which the Stranglerscould cut in on the deal. Yes, Enright convenes his committee an'goes through the motions of tryin' Moon. They does this to preserveappearances, but of course they throws Moon loose. An' as thar'sreasons, as any gent can see, why no one cares to have the story asit is, be made a subject of invidious gossip in Red Dog, an' otheroutfits envious of Wolfville, at Enright's suggestion, theStranglers bases the acquittal of Moon on the fact that Curly Bendeloodes Moon's sister, back in the States, an' then deserts her. Moon cuts the trail of the base sedoocer in Wolfville, an' gathershim in accordin', an' as a brother preyed on by his sister's wrongsis 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 thefinding of Wolfville's vigilance committee, and the reasons, almostimposed on me. 

"Which you can bet the limit, " he observed fiercely, as he preparedto go into the hotel, "which you can go the limit open, son, Curlyain't none too good. "

CHAPTER IX

Colonel Sterett's Reminiscences

"An' who is Colonel William Greene Sterett, you asks?" repeated theOld Cattleman, with some indignant elevation of voice. "He's thefounder of the Coyote, Wolfville's first newspaper; is as cultivateda 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 ownwhiskey 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 callaged. When he comes weavin' into Wolfville that time, I reckons nowColonel Sterett is mighty likely about twenty-odd years younger thanme, an' at that time I shows about fifty rings on my horns. As foreddication, he's shore a even break with Doc Peets, an' as I remarksfrequent, I never calls the hand of that gent in Arizona who for alib'ral enlightenment is bullsnakes to rattlesnakes with Peets. 

"Speakin' about who Colonel Sterett is, he onfolds his pedigree infull one evenin' when we're all sort o' self-herded in the New YorkStore. Which his story is a proud one, an' I'm a jedge because cominas I do from Tennessee myse'f, nacherally I saveys all aboutKaintucky. Thar's three grades of folks in Kaintucky, the same bein'contingent entire on whereabouts them folks is camped. Thar's theBloo Grass deestrict, the Pennyr'yal deestrict, an' the Purchase. The Bloo Grass folks is the 'ristocrats, while them low-flung trashfrom the Purchase is a heap plebeian. The Pennyr'yal outfit is kindo' hesitatin' 'round between a balk an' a break-down in between theother two, an' is part 'ristocratic that a-way an' part mud. As forColonel Sterett, he's pure strain Bloo Grass, an' he shows it. I'llsay this for the Colonel, an' it shorely knits me to him from thefirst, he could take a bigger drink of whiskey without sugar orwater than ever I sees a gent take in my life. 

"That time I alloods to, when Colonel Sterett vouchsafes themrecollections, we-all is in the r'ar wareroom of the New York Storewhere the whiskey bar'ls be, samplin' some Valley Tan that's jestbeen freighted in. As she's new goods, that Valley Tan, an' as ourtroo views touchin' its merits is important to the camp, we'retestin' the beverage plenty free an' copious. No expert gent cangive opinions worth a white chip concernin' nosepaint short o' sixdrinks, an' we wasn't out to make no errors in our findin's aboutthat Valley Tan. So, as I relates, we're all mebby some five drinksto the good, an' at last the talk, which has strayed over into thehigh grass an' is gettin' a whole lot too learned an' profound formost of the herd to cut in on, settles down between Doc Peets anColonel Sterett as bein' the only two sports able to protect theirplay tharin. 

"An' you can go as far as you like on it, ' says the Colonel toPeets, 'I'm plumb wise an' full concernin' the transmigration ofsouls. I gives it my hearty beliefs. I can count a gent up themoment I looks at him; also I knows exactly what he is before he's ahooman bein'. '

"'That "transmigration" that a-way, ' whispers Dan Boggs to CherokeeHall, 'ain't no fool of a word. I'll prance over an' pull it on RedDog 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 overfrom Tucson; 'I gives it out cold, meanin' tharby no offence to ourTucson friend--I gives it out cold that Hoppin' Harry used to be at'rant'ler. First, ' continyoos the Colonel, stackin' Harry up mightyscientific with his optic jest showin' over his glass, 'first Iallows 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 whichinfests the East. This last reptile is vulgar-sluggish, a anamile offew if any virchoos; while the horned toad, so called, come rightdown to cases, ain't no toad nohow. It's a false brand, an' he don'tbelong with the toad herd at all. The horned toad is a lizard--abroad kind o' lizard; an' as for bein' sluggish, you let him havesomething on his mind speshul, an' he'll shore go careerin' aboutplumb swift. Moreover, he don't hop, your horned toad don't, likethem Eastern toads; he stands up on his toes an' paces--he's whatwe-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 metell you this:--I has a horned toad where I'm camped over by theTres Hermanas, where I'm deer-huntin'. I wins that toad's love fromthe 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 adooel 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' himin 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' itsstarry 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, asthe babe jest born. But like all noble nachers, Augustus issensitive, an' he regyards them bats in the nose as insults. As Isays, 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 rhinocerosesof holy writ, an' then the way Augustus hooks an' harasses thatoffensive sardine box about the camp is a lesson to folks. '

"'Where's this yere Augustus now?' asks Dan Boggs, who's got allwropped 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' allinadvertent I backs the wagon onto Augustus. The hind wheel goessquar' over him an' flattens Augustus out complete. He dies with hiseyes fixed on me, an' his looks says as plain as language, "Cheerup, Colonel! This yere contreetemps don't change my affections, forI knows it's a misdeal. " You-all can gamble I don't do nothin' morethat day but mourn. '

"'Which I should shorely say so!' says Dan Boggs, an' his voice isshakin'; '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'fwith about four fingers; 'speakin' of the transmigration of souls, Igoes off wrong about Hoppin' Harry that time. I takes it, he used tobe one of these yere Eastern toads on account of his gait. But I'merroneous. 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 torecall one of these hairy, hoppin' t'rant'ler spiders who jumpssideways at you, full of rage an' venom, is bound to be remindedpartic'lar of Hoppin' Harry. '

"'What did you-all use to be yourse'f, Colonel?' asks Enright, whonotices that Hoppin' Harry is beginnin' to bristle some, like heain't pleased none with these yere revelations. 'What for a anamilewas 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 shiftthe subject some. If we-all talks about these yere insects an'reptiles a little longer, Huggins over thar--whose one weakness ishe's too frank with an' puts too much confidence in his licker--willhave another one of them attacks of second sight, which Peets cureshim of that time, an' commence seein' a multitood of heinousvisions. '

"'Of course, ' says Enright, plumb p'lite, 'of course, Colonel, I cantell a whole lot about your fam'ly by jest lookin' at you;partic'lar where as at present you're about ten drinks ahead; stillthar's nothin' gives me more pleasure than hearin' about the sirefrom the colt; an' if you won't receive it resentful, I'd ask you asto your folks back in Kaintuck. '

"'As you-all knows, ' observes Colonel Sterett, 'I was foaled inKaintucky; an' I must add, I never recalls that jestly cel'bratedcommonwealth with-out a sigh. Its glories, sech as they was beforethe war, is fast departin' away. In my yooth, thar is nothin' but anobility in Kaintucky; leastwise in the Bloo Grass country, whereofI'm a emanation. We bred hosses an' cattle, an' made whiskey an'played kyards, an' the black folks does the work. We descends intonothin' so low as labor in them halcyon days. Our social existenceis made up of weddin's, infares an' visitin' 'round; an' life in theBloo Grass is a pleasant round of chicken fixin's an' flour doin'sfrom one Christmas to another. '

"'Sech deescriptions, ' remarks Enright with emotion an' drawin' theback of his hand across his eyes, 'brings back my yearlin' days ingood old Tennessee. We-all is a heap like you Kaintucks, down ourway. We was a roode, exyooberant outfit; but manly an' sincere. It'strooly a region where men is men, as that sport common to our neckof 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' yereEnright closes his eyes some ecstatic. 'He was a shore man. He stooda 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 fatherdon't; he barks 'em. An' for to see the skin cracked, or so much asa drop of blood on one of 'em, when he picks it up, would havemortified the old gent to death. '

"'Kaintucky to a hair, ' assented the Colonel, who listens to Enrightplenty rapt that a-way. 'An' things is so Arcadian! If a gent has ahour off an 'feels friendly an' like minglin' with his kind, all hedoes is sa'nter over an' ring the town bell. Nacherally, thecommoonity 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, itdon't know if it's a birth, it don't know if it's a hoss race, itdon't know if it's a drink; an' it don't care. The commoonity keepsitse'f framed up perpetyooal to enjoy any one of the five, an'tharfore at the said summons comes troopin', as I say. "'Mygrandfather is the first Sterett who invades Kaintucky, an' mynotion is that he conies curvin' in with Harrod, Kenton, Boone an'Simon Girty. No one knows wherever does he come from; an' no one'sgot the sand to ask, he's that dead haughty an' reserved. Formyse'f, I'm not freighted to the gyards with details touchin' on mygrandfather; 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'sthe greatest man on earth an' owns all the land south of the Ohioriver. 

"'This yere grandfather I'm talkin' of, ' continyoos the Colonelafter ag'in refreshin' himse'f with some twenty drops, 'lives in abig house on a bluff over-lookin' the Ohio, an' calls his place "TheHill. " Up across one of the big stone chimleys is carved "JohnSterett, " that a-way; which I mentions the same as goin' to show heain't afeard none of bein' followed, an' that wherever he does comep'intin' out from, thar's no reward offered for his return. '

"'I ain't so shore neither, ' interjects Texas Thompson. 'He mighthave shifted the cut an' changed his name. Sech feats is frequentdown 'round Laredo where I hails from, an' no questions asked. '

"'Up on the roof of his ranch, ' goes on the Colonel, for he's soimmersed in them mem'ries he don't hear Texas where he rings in histheeries, 'up on the roof my grandfather has a big bell, an' therope is brought down an' fetched through a auger hole in the side ofthe house, so he can lay in bed if he feels like it, an' ring thisyere tocsin of his while so minded. An' you can bet he shorely ringsher! Many a time an' oft as a child about my mother's knees, thesound of that ringin' comes floatin' to us where my father has hishouse four miles further down the river. On sech o'casions I'd upan' ask:

"'" Whatever is this yere ringin'?"

"'"Hesh, my child!" my mother would say, smotherin' my mouth withher hand, her voice sinkin' to a whisper, for as the head of theHouse of Sterett, every one of the tribe is plumb scared of mygrandfather an' mentions him with awe. "Hesh, my child, " says mymother like I relates, "that's your grandfather ringin' his bell. "

"'An' from calf-time to beef-time, from the first kyard out of thebox down to the turn, no one ever knows why my grandfather does ringit, for he's too onbendin' to tell of his own accord, an' as Istates prior, no one on earth has got nerve an' force of characterenough to ask him. 

"'My own father, whose name is the same as mine, bein' WillyumGreene Sterett, is the oldest of my grandfather's chil'en. He's astern, quiet gent, an' all us young-ones is wont to step high an'softly whenever he's pesterin' 'round. He respects nobody except mygrandfather, fears nothin' but gettin' out of licker. 

"'Like my grandfather up at "The Hill, " my father devotes all histalents to raisin' runnin' hosses, an' the old faun would have beena heap lonesome if thar's fewer than three hundred head a nickerin'about the barns an' pastures. Shore! we has slaves too; we hasniggers to a stand-still. 

"'As I look r'arward to them days of my infancy, I brings to mind astaggerin' blow that neighborhood receives. A stern-wheeler sinksabout two hundred yards off our landin' with one thousand bar'ls ofwhiskey on board. When the news of that whiskey comes flyin' inland, it ain't a case of individyooals nor neighborhoods, but wholecounties comes stampedin' to the rescoo. It's no use; the boat bogsright down in the sand; in less than an hour her smoke stack isonder water. All we ever gets from the wrack is the bell, the samenow adornin' a Presbyter'an church an' summonin' folks to themservices. 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 thatcommoonity they ain't yet outlived. It 'most drives 'em crazy; theywalks them banks for months a-wringin' their hands an' wishin' theimpossible. '

"'Is any one drowned?' asks Faro Nell, who comes in, a momentbefore, an' as usual plants herse'f clost to Cherokee Hall. 'Is tharany women or children aboard?'

"'Nell, ' says the Colonel, 'I apol'gizes for my ignorance, but I'mbound to confess I don't know. Thar's no one knows. The awful factof them one thousand bar'ls of Willow Run perishin' before our veryeyes, swallows up all else, an' minor details gets lost in theshuffle an' stays lost for all time. It's a turrible jolt to thegeneral sensibilities, an' any gent who'll go back thar yet an' lookhard 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'mcarried away by music. My fav'rite airs is "Smith's March, " an'"Cease Awhile Clarion; Clarion Wild an' Shrill. " I either wantssomething with a sob in it 'like "Cease Awhile, " or I desires Warwith 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 myeyes ag'in the brightness of the sky, an' figger on them setbackswe'd mete out to a Payaim if only we might tree one once in oldKaintucky. Which that Saracen would have shorely become the basis ofsome ceremonies!

"'Most like I was about thirteen years old when the Confederacydeclar's herse'f a nation, elects Jeff Davis President, an' frontsup for trouble. For myse'f I concedes now, though I sort o' smothersmy feelin's on that p'int at the time, seein' we-all could lookright over into the state of Ohio, said state bein' heatedlyinimical to rebellion an' pawin' for trouble an' rappin' its hornsag'in the trees at the mere idee; for myse'f, I say, I now concedesthat I was heart an' soul with the South in them onhappy ruptures. Ibreathed an' lived with but one ambition, which is to tear thisdevoted country in two in the middle an' leave the fragments that a-way, in opposite fields. My father, stern, ca'm, c'llected, don'tshare the voylence of my sentiments. He took the middle ag'in theends for his. The attitoode of our state is that of nootrality, an'my father declar'd for nootrality likewise. My grandfather is deadat 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 tothrow the weight of his valor to either side, so he stands a pathand 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' togo down to the village; "Willyum, " he'd say. "if anybody asks youwhat 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 theSouth. My brother Jeff, who is five years older than me, givesproofs of this, partic'lar. It's Jeff who invents that enterprise infishin', which for idleness, profit an' pastime, ain't never beenequalled since the flood, called "Juggin' for Cats. " It's Jeff, too, once when he ups an' jines the church, an' is tharafter preyed onwith the fact that the church owes two hundred dollars, and that itlooks like nobody cares a two-bit piece about it except jest him, who hires a merry-go-round--one of these yere contraptions withwooden hosses, an' a hewgag playin' toones in the center--fromCincinnati, sets her up on the Green in front of the church, makesthe ante ten cents, an' pays off the church debt in two months withthe revenoos tharof. 

"'As I sits yere, a relatin' of them exploits, ' an' Colonel Steretttips the canteen for another hooker, 'as I sits yere, gents, allfree an' sociable with what's, bar none, the finest body of gentsthat ever yanks a cork or drains a bottle, I've seen the nobility ofKaintucky--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: thatsanctooary is plumb out of debt an' on velvet--has a bank roll bigenough to stopper a 2-gallon jug with--in eight weeks from the timeJeff onfurls his lay-out an' opens up his game. '

"Thar's one thing, " suddenly observed my aged companion, as he eyedme narrowly, pausing in the interesting Colonel Sterett's relationconcerning his family, and becoming doubly impressive with anuplifted fore-finger, "thar's one thing I desires you to fullygrasp. As I reels off this yere chronicle, you-all is not toconsider me as repeatin' the Colonel's words exact. I ain't giftedlike the Colonel, an' my English ain't a marker to his. The Colonelcarries the language quiled up an' hangin' at the saddle horn of hisintelligence, like a cow puncher does his lariat. An' when he's gotready to rope an' throw a fact or two, you should oughter see himtake 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 inthe open, it's a cinch the Colonel fastens every time he throws hisverbal rope. The fact he's after that a-way, is shore the Colonel's. Doc Peets informs me private that Colonel Sterett is the greatestartist, oral, of which his'try records the brand, an' you can gobroke on Peets's knowin'. An' thar's other test'mony. 

"'I don't lay down my hand, ' says Texas Thompson, one time when himan' 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 anembarrassment of good things, like openin' a five-hand jack-pot on aace-full. He can even out-talk my former wife, the Colonel can, an'that esteemable lady packs the record as a conversationist in Laredofor five years before I leaves. She's admittedly the shorest shotwith her mouth on that range. Talkin' at a mark, or in action, allyou has to do is give the lady the distance an' let her fix hersights once, an' she'll stand thar, without a rest, an' slamobservation after observation into the bull's eye till you'll beabashed. An' yet, compared to the Colonel yere, that lady stutters!'

"But now to resoome, " said my friend when he had sufficiently cometo the rescue of Colonel Sterett and given him his proper place inmy estimation; "we'll take up the thread of the Colonel's remarkswhere I leaves off. 

"'My grandfather, ' says the Colonel, 'is a gent of iron-boundhabits. He has his rooles an' he never transgresses 'em. The firstfive days of the week, he limits himse'f to fifteen drinks per diem;Saturday he rides eight miles down to the village, casts asiderestraints, an' goes the distance; Sunday he devotes to meditations. 

"'Thar's times when I inclines to the notion that my grandfatherpossesses partic'lar aptitoodes for strong drink. This I'll saywithout no thoughts of boastin', he's the one lone gent whereof Ihas a knowledge, who can give a three-ring debauch onder one canvasin one evenin'. As I states, my grandfather, reg'lar every Saturdaymornin', rides down to the Center, four miles below our house, an'begins to crook his elbow, keepin' no accounts an' permittin' nocompunctions. This, if the old gent is feelin' fit an' likely, keepsup about six hours' at which epock, my grandfather is beginnin' tofeel like his laigs is a burden an' walkin' a lost art. That's wherethe pop'lace gets action. The onlookers, when they notes how myancestor's laigs that a-way is attemptin' to assoome the soopremedirection of affairs, sort o' c'llects him an' puts him in thesaddle. Settin' thar on his hoss, my grandfather is all right. Hiscenter of grav'ty is shifted an' located more to his advantage. Iesteems it one of them evidences of a sooperior design in theyooniverse, an' a plain proof that things don't come by chance, thatlong 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 whiche 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 skirmishline of niggers across the road, with orders to capture mygrandfather as he comes romancin' along. An' them faithful servitorsnever fails. They swarms down on my grandfather, searches him out ofthe saddle an' packs him exultin'ly an' lovin'ly into camp. 

"'Once my grandfather is planted in a cha'r, with a couple ofminions on each side to steady the deal, the others begins to lineout to fetch reestoratifs. I'm too little to take a trick myse'f, an' I can remember how on them impressif occasions, I would standan' look at him. I'd think to myse'f--I was mebby eight at thetime, --"He's ondoubted the greatest man on earth, but my! howblurred he is!"

"'Which as I states yeretofore, the Sterett system is thepatriarchal system, an' one an' all we yields deference to mygrandfather as the onchallenged chief of the tribe. To 'llustratethis: One day my father, who's been tryin' out a two-year-old on ourlittle old quarter-mile track, starts for The Hill, takin' me an' anigger jockey, an' a-leadin' of the said two-year-old racer along. Once we arrives at my grandfather's, my father leaves us allstandin' in the yard and reepairs into the house. The next minutehim an' my grandfather comes out. They don't say nothin', but mygrandfather goes all over the two-year-old with eyes an' hand formighty likely ten minutes. At last he straightens up an' turns on myfather with a face loaded to the muzzle with rage. 

"'"Willyum Greene Sterett, " he says, conferrin' on my parent hisfull 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 onyour track now, father, an' let that black boy ride him an' I'llgamble you all a thousand dollars that that two-year-old beatsGolddust. "

"'" Willyum Greene Sterett, " says my grandfather, lookin' at myfather an' beginnin' to bile, "I've put up with a heap from you. Youwas owdacious as a child, worthless as a yooth, an' a spend-thriftas a young man grown; an' a score of times I've paid your debts aswas my dooty as the head of the House of Sterett. But you reservesit 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 TheHill to beat my Golddust. Now let me tell you somethin', an' it'llbe water on your wheel a whole lot, to give heed to that I says. Youget 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 thisHill. An' as you go, let me give you this warnin'. If you-all evermakes a moccasin track in the mud of my premises ag'in, I'll fillyou full of buckshot. "

"'An' as I says, to show the veneration in which my grandfather isheld, thar's not another yeep out o' any of us. With my father inthe lead, we files out for home; an' tharafter the eepisode is nevermentioned. 

"'An' now, ' says Colonel Sterctt, 'as we-all is about equipped toreport joodiciously as to the merits of the speshul cask of ValleyTan 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 beobserved: The Sterett fam'ly is eminent for two things: it getseverything it needs; an' it never gets it till it needs it. Does itneed a gun, or a hoss, or a drink, the Sterett fam'ly proceeds withthe round-up. It befalls that when my grandfather passes hiseightieth year, he decides that he needs religion. 

"'" It's about time, " he says, "for me to begin layin' up a treasureabove. I'm goin' on eighty-one an' my luck can't last forever. "

"'So my grandfather he sets up in bed an' he perooses themscriptures for four months. I tell you, gents, he shorely searchesthat holy book a whole lot. An' then he puts it up he'll bebaptized. Also, that he'll enter down into the water an' rise up outof the water like it's blazoned in them texts. 

"'Seein' she's Janyooary at the time, with two foot of snow on theground, it looks like my grandfather will have to postpone themrites. But he couldn't be bluffed. My grandfather reaches out of bedan' he rings that bell I tells you-all of, an' proceeds to convenehis niggers. He commands 'em to cut down a big whitewood tree thatlives 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' thenwith six yoke of steers, the trough is brought into camp. It's longenough an' wide enough an' deep enough to swim a colt. 

"'The day for the baptizin' is set, an' the Sterett fam'ly comestrackin' in. Thar's two hundred of 'em, corral count. The wholeoutfit stands 'round while the water is heatin' for to clip the oldgent. My father, who is the dep'ty chief an' next in command, istyrannizin' about an' assoomin' to deal the game. "Thar's a big fireat which they're heatin' the rocks wherewith to raise thetemperatoor of the water. The fire is onder the personal charge of afaithful 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'sa bile an' a buzz an' a geyser of steam, an' now an' then the rockexplodes a lot an' sends the water spoutin' to the eaves. It's allplenty thrillin', you can bet! "My father, as I states, is pervadin'about, so clothed with dignity, bein' after my grandfather the nextchicken on the roost, that you can't get near enough to him to borrya plug of tobacco. Once in a while he'd shasee up an' stick his handin the water. It would be too hot, mebby. "'"Yere, you Ben!" he'droar. "What be you aimin' at? Do you-all want to kill the old man Doyou think you're scaldin' a hawg?" "Then this yere Ben; would getconscience-stricken an' pour in a bar'l or two of cold water. In aminute my father would test it ag'in an' say:

"'"Ben, you shorely are failin' in your intellects. Yere this is ascold as ice; you'll give the old man a chill. " "Final, however, thewater is declar'd right, an' then out comes a brace of niggers, packin' my grandfather in a blanket, with the preacher preevail. Inover all as offishul floor-manager of the festiv'ties. That's how itends: my grandfather is baptized an' gets religion in his eighty-first year, A. D. ; an' two days later he sets in his chips, shoveshis cha'r back an' goes shoutin' home. 

"'"Be I certain of heaven?" he says to the preacher, when he's downto the turn. "Be I winner accordin' to your rooles an' tenets?""'"Your place is provided, " says the preacher, that a-way. "'"Ifit's as good a place as old Kaintucky, they shorely ain't goin' tohave 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 aconfidential air, "this yere dumb man' incident ever arises to mymind ag'in, if it ain't for a gent whose trail I cuts while I'mprojectin' 'round the post-office for letters. 

"It's this mornin', an' I'm gettin' letters, as I states, when Icatches this old party sort o' beamin' on me frank an' free, likehe's shore a friendly Injun. At last he sa'nters over an' remarks, 'Whatever is your callin', pard?' or some sech bluff as that. "Isees he's good people fast enough; still I allows a small, briefjolt mebby does hire good. 

"'Well, ' I says, intendin' to let him know I'm alive an' wakefulthat a-way; 'well, whatever my callin' is, at least it ain't been nopart of my bringin' up to let mere strangers stroll into the corralan' cinch a saddle onto me for a conversational canter, jest becausethey're disp'sitioned that a-way. "'No offence meant, ' says the oldparty, an' I observes he grows red an' ashamed plumb up to his whiteha'r. "Excuse me, amigo, " I says, handin' out my paw, which heseizes all radiant an' soon, "I ain't intendin' nothin' blunt, norto slam no door on better acquaintance, but when you--all ropes atme about what you refers to as my "callin"' that time, I ain't jestlookin' for a stranger to take sech interest in me, an' I'm startledinto bein' onp'lite. I tharfore tenders regrets, an', startin' allover, states without reserve that I'm a cow man. "An' now, ' Iretorts, further, "merely to play my hand out, an' not that I looksto take a trick at all, let me ask what pursoots do you p'int out onas a pretext for livin'?"

"'Me?' says the old party, stabbin' at his shirt bosom with histhumb; 'me? I'm a scientist. ' "'Which the news is exhilaratin' an'interestin', ' I says; 'shake ag'in! If thar's one thin-I regyardshigh, it's a scientist. Whatever partic'lar wagon-track do you-allfollow off, may I ask?' "It's then this old gent an' I la'nches intoa gen'ral discussion onder the head of mes'lancous business, Ireckons, an' lie puts it up his long suit, as he calls it, is `moralepidemics. ' He says he's wrote one book onto 'em, an' sw'ar:; he'llwrite another if nobody heads him off; the same bein' on-likely. Ashe sees how I'm interested, the old sport sets down an' lays it outto me how sentiments goes in herds an' droves, same as weather an'things like that. "'Oneday you rolls out in the mornin', ' this oldgent declar's, `an' thar you reads how everybody commits sooicide. Then some other day it's murder, then robbery, an' ag'in, the wholeround-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 tellsthe old gent he's got a good game, an' I thinks myse'f his systemhas p'ints. At this, he admits he's flattered; an' then, as we'regettin' to the ends of our lariats, we tips our sombreros to eachother an' lets it go at that. To-morry he's goin' to confer on mehis book; which I means to read it, an' then I'll savey more abouthis little play. 

"But, " continued my friend, warm with his new philosophy, "this yereis all preelim'nary, an' brings me back to what I remarks at thejump; that what that old gent urges recalls this dumb an' deef manincident; which it sort o' backs his play. It's a time when a passelof us gets overcome by waves of sentiment that a-way, an' not onlyturns a hoss-thief loose entire, after the felon's done been rundown, but Boggs waxes that sloppy he lavishes a hoss an' saddle ontohim; 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, ashe says, it's shorely one of them waves. 

"Tell the story? Thar's nothin' much to said yarn, only theonpreecedented leeniency wherewith we winds it up. In the firstplace, I don't know what this hoss-thief's name is, for he's plumdeef 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 writethings to folks he has to talk with on a piece of paper, but it'stoo slow a racket for me, too much like conversin' by freight thata-way, an' I declines to stand in on it. I don't like to write wellenough 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 openan' common; an' gents who's with him at the time says he has a levelnotion of hands, an' in the long run, mebby, amasses a littlewealth. 

"While I ain't payin' much heed to him, I do hear towards the lastof his stay as how he goes broke ag'inst faro-bank. But as gentsoften goes broke ag'inst faro-bank, an' as, in trooth, I tastes sechreverses once or twice myse'f, the information don't excite me noneat the time, nor later on. 

"It's mighty likely some little space since this dumb person hitscamp, an' thar's an outfit of us ramblin' 'round in the Red Light, which, so to speak, is the Wolfville Club, an' killin' time bytalkin'. Dave Tutt an' Texas Thompson is holdin' forth at each otheron 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 lynchedat Laredo one time, an' how a tender gent rings in some orisonsbefore ever they swings him off. Texas objects to them pray'rs an'brands 'em as hypocrisies. As happens frequent--for both is powerfuldebaters that a-way--Dave Tutt locks horns with Texas, an' they bothprances 'round oratorical at each other mighty entertainin'. 

"'Now you gents onderstand, ' says Texas Thompson, 'I ain't sayin' aword about them pray'rs as mere supplications. I'm yere to state Iregyards 'em as excellent, an' thar's gents at that time presentwho's experts in sech appeals an' who knows what prayin' is, whoallows that for fervency, bottom an' speed, they shorely makes therecord 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 asmoother trick. But what I complains of is, it's onconsistent. '

"'However is prayin' that a-way onconsistent, I'd shorely like toknow?' says Tutt, stackin' in ag'in Texas plenty scornful. 

"'Why, this a-way, ' says Texas. 'Yere's a gent who assembles withhis peers to hang a Mexican. As a first flash outen the box, he putsup 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 goodenough 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 studywhich 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 wholelot. If the angels takes stock in your applications, well an' good. If they don't, you can gamble your spurs they're plenty able toprotect themse'fs. All you can do is file them supplications. Theangels lets 'em go or turns 'em down accordin'. Now, I holds thatthis Laredo sport who prays that time does right. Thar's nothin'like a showdown; an' his play, since he volunteers to ride herd onthe 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 ofinterest, an' who allows he'll butt in on the talk. 'I j'ines withTutt in this. My notion is, when it comes a gent's turn to pray, lethim pray, an' not go pesterin' himse'f with vain surmises as to howit's goin' to strike them hosts on high. You can wager you ain'tgoin' to ride 'round Omnipotence none. You can draw up to the layoutof life, an' from the cradle to the grave, you'll not pick up nosleepers on Providence that a-way. Now, once, when I'm over acrossthe Mogallon Plateau, I--'

"But we never does hear what happens to Boggs that time over acrossthe Mogallon Plateau; for when he's that far along, one of theniggers from the corral comes scurryin' up an' asks Texas Thompsondoes 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 nonehe'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 hishands, cinches the hull onto the pinto, an' lines out for thenortheast on the Silver City trail. He's been plumb outen sight formore'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'senterprise is entitled to the red ticket. '

"Which we ain't standin' thar talkin' long. If thar's one reform towhich the entire West devotes itse'f, it's breakin' people of thishabit of hoss-stealin'. It ain't no time when four of us is off onthe dumb party's trail, an' half of that is consoomed in takin' adrink. 

"Whyever be gents in the West so sot ag'in hoss-thieves? Son, youabides in a region at once pop'lous an' fertile. But if you was toput in three months on a cactus desert, with water holes fifty milesapart, it would begin to glimmer on you as to what it means to findyourse'f afoot. It would come over you like a landslide that theparty who steals your hoss would have improved your condition inlife a heap if he'd played his hand out by shootin' a hole throughyour heart. 

"No, I ain't in no sech hurry to hang people for standin' in on somekillin'. Thar's two sides to a killin'; an' if deceased is framed upwith a gun all reg'lar at the time, it goes a long way towardexculpatin' of the sport who outlives him. But thar ain't only oneside to hoss-stealin', an' the sooner the party's strung up orplugged, the sooner thar's a vict'ry for the right. 

"As I remarks, it ain't two minutes when thar's four of us goneswarmin' off after the dumb man who's got Texas Thompson's pintopony. From the tracks, he ain't makin' no play to throw us off, forhe 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'sdoo mainly, however, because the pinto sticks a cactus thorn in itshoof an' goes lame in less time tharafter than it takes to turn ajack. 

"'Hands up, ' says Texas, gettin' the drop as we swings up on thedeef an' dumb foogitive. 

"But thar's no need of sech preecautions, as the dumb party ain'tpackin' no weepons--not so much as a knife. 

"Thar's nothin' to say, no talk to make, when we takes him. Texashefts him outen the saddle an' ropes his elbows behind with alariat. 

"'What do you-all su'gest, gents?' says Texas. 'I s'pose now thedeecorous way is to go on with this yere aggressive an' energeticperson to them pinon trees ahead, an' hang him some?'

"'Which thar's no doubts floatin' in anybody's mind on thatsubject, ' says Dan Boggs, 'but I'd shore admire to know who thisparty is, an' where he's headin' to. I dislikes to stretch the neckof strangers that a-way; an' if thar's any gent, now, who can askthis yere person who he is, an' what he's got to say, I'd take it asa favor, personal, if he'd begin makin' of the needed motions. ' "Butthar ain't none of us can institoote them gestures; an' when thedumb man, on his side, puts up a few bluffs with his fingers, it's aheap too complicated for us as a means of makin' statements. "'Ishore couldn't tell, ' says Dave Tutt, as he sets watchin' the dumbman's play, 'whether he's callin' us names or askin' for whiskey. '"'Which if we'd thought to bring some stationery, ' says Texas, afterwe-all goes through our war-bags in vain, 'we might open somesuccessful negotiations with this person. As it is, however, we'replumb up ag'inst it, an' I reckon, Boggs, he'll have to hang withoutyou an' him bein' formally introdooced. ' "'Jest the same, I wishes, 'says Dave Tutt, 'that Doc Peets or Enright was along. They'd shoredig somethin' outen this citizen. ' "'Mebby he's got papers in hiswamus, ' 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 getsit that mornin'. Besides this yere single missif that a-way, tharain't a scrap of nothin' else to him; nor yet no wealth. 

"'Tell us what's in the letter, ' says Texas, turnin' the documentover to Boggs. 'Read her out, Dan; I'd play the hand, but I has toride herd on the culprit. '

"'I can't read it, ' says Boggs, handin' the note to Tutt; 'I can'tread readin', let alone writin'. But I'm free to say, even withouthearin' that document none, that I shorely hesitates to string thisparty 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, youwouldn't be annoyin' yourse'f about his bein' locoed. I finds himplenty deep an' wary, not to say plumb crafty. Another thing, it'splain he not only gets letters, but we-all sees him write about hisdrinks to Black Jack, the Red Light barkeep, an' sim'lar plays. '

"By this time, Tutt's got the letter open, an' is gettin' ready toread. The dumb man's been standin' thar all the time, with his armsroped behind him, an' lookin' like hope has died; an' also like heain'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 someaffected sentimental. 

"'Which this yere commoonication is plenty brief, ' says Tutt, as herums his eye over it. 'She's dated "Casa Grande, " an' reads asfollows, to wit:

"'Dear Ben: Myra is dyin'; come at once. A. " "'Now, whoever do youreckon 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 wifeor somethin' of this yere dumb party. ' "'That's it, ' says Boggs. 'Hegets this word that Myra's goin' over the big divide, an' bein' he'sgone broke entire on faro-bank, he plunges over to the corral an'rustles Thompson's hoss. Onder sech circumstances, I ain't noneshore he's respons'ble. I take-it thar ain't much doubt but Myra'shis wife that a-way, in which event my idee is he only borrysThompson's pinto. Which nacherally, as I freely concedes, this lastdepends on Myra's bein' his wife. ' "'Oh, not necessarily, ' saysTexas Thompson; 'thar's a heap of wives who don't jestifyhosstealiil' a little bit. Now I plays it open, Myra's this dumbgent's mother, an' on sech a theery an' that alone, I removes thelariat from his arms an' throws him loose. But don't try to run nowife bluff on me; I've been through the wife question with a blazin'pine-knot in my hand, an' thar's nothin' worth while concealedtharin. ' "'Which I adopts the ainendiricnt, ' says Boggs, 'an' onsecond thought, I strings my chips with Texas, that this yere Myra'shis mother. I've got the money that says so. ' "'At any rate, ' saysTutt, 'from all I sees, I reckons it's the general notion that wecalls this thing a draw. We can't afford to go makin' a preecedentof hangin' a gent for hoss-stealin' who's only doin' his best to bepresent at this Myra's fooneral, whoever she may be. It's a heapdisgustin', 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 itturns out that in no time, from four gents who's dead set to hangthis dumb man as a boss-thief, we turns into a sympathetic outfitwhich is diggin' holes for his escape. It all dovetails in with whatmy 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'sright or wrong, we turns the dumb man free. Not only that, but Boggsgets out of the saddle an' gives him his pony to pursoo them rambleswith. "'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 dumbgent's hands. 'It can run like a antelope, that pony can; an' that'swhy 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'tstep on no more cactus, an' half rides, he's doo to go chargin' intoCasa Grande before they loses Myra, easy. '"

CHAPTER XI. 

How Prince Hat Got Help. 

"Come yere, you boy Torn. " It was the Old Cattleman addressing hisblack satellite. "Stampede up to their rooms of mine an' fetch me myhat; the one with the snakeskin band. My head ain't feelin' none toowell, owin' to the barkeep of this hostelry changin' my drinks, an'that rattlesnake band oughter absorb them aches an' clar'fy myroominations a heap. Now, vamos!" he continued, as Tom seemed tohesitate, "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 thismornin' for a hour or so, an cirk'late my blood, an' you-all iswelcome to attach yourse'f to the scheme. Thar's nothin' likeexercise, that a-way, as Grief Mudlow allows when he urges his wifeto take in washin'. You've done heard of Grief Mudlow, the laziestmaverick in Tennessee?"

I gave my word that not so much as a rumor of the person Mudlow hadreached me. My friend expressed surprise. It was now that the blackboy Tom came up with the desired hat. Tom made his approach with aqueer 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 gentlemanseverely, as he took the hat and fixed it on his head. "I don't wantno frivolities an' merry-makin's 'round me. Which you're alwaysjumpin' an' dancin' like one of these yere snapjack bugs. I ain'taimin' at pompousness none, but thar's a sobriety goes with themyears of mine which I proposes to maintain if I has to do it with ablacksnake whip. So you-all boy Tom, you look out a whole lot! I'mgoin' to break you of them hurdy-gurdy tendencies, if I has to makeyou wear hobbles an' frale the duds off your back besides. "

Tom smiled toothfully, yet in confident fashion, as one who knowshis master and is not afraid. 

"So you never hears of Grief Mudlow?" he continued, as we strolledabroad on our walk. "I reckons mebby you has, for they shore putsGrief into a book once, commemoratin' of his laziness. How lazy ishe? Well, son, he could beat Mexicans an' let 'em deal. He's raisedaway 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 thehor'zontal. I was shorely born with a yearnin' for the levelground. ' 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, thatonce he starts huntin' an' then decides he won't. Grief lays down bythe aige of the branch, with his moccasins towards the water. Itstarts 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 quiledup same as a water-moccasin snake, an' the rain peltin' into himlike 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 notime when the branch begins to raise; the water crawls up aboutGrief's feet. So his pard shouts at him some more:

"'Whoopee, you Grief ag'in!' he says. 'If you don't pull yourfreight, the branch'll get you. It's done riz over the stock of yourrifle. '

"'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 ofyour 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 nevercatches cold. '

"An' thar that ornery Grief reposes, too plumb lazy to move, whilethe branch creeps up about him. It's crope up so high, final, thathis y'ears an' the back of his head is in it. All Grief does is sorto' lift his chin an' lay squar', to keep his nose out so's he canbreathe. 

An' he shorely beats the game; for the rain ceases, an' the branchdon't rise no higher. This yere Grief lays thar ontil the branchruns down an' he's high an' dry ag'in, an' then the sun shines outan' dries his clothes. It's that same night when Grief has drughimse'f home to supper, he says to his wife, 'Thar's nothin' likeexercise, ' 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 ofthe 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 gentwho's plumb weak an' craven, that a-way, onder certaincircumstances, is as full of sand as the bed of the Arkansaw onderothers. Thar's hoss-back courage an' thar's foot courage, thar's daycourage 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 ofheroism, an' I even recalls how in a sperit of vainglory I rides abuffalo bull. I tells you, son, that while that frantic buffalo issquanderin' about the plains that time, an' me onto him, he feels amighty 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 buffaloag'in, leastwise without a saddle, onless its a speshul o'casion. 

"No, indeed, that word 'courage' has to be defined new for eachcase. Thar's old Tom Harris over on the Canadian. I beholds Tom onetime at Tascosa do the most b'ar-faced trick; one which most sportsof common sens'bilities would have shrunk from. Thar's a warrant outfor Tom, an' Jim East the sheriff puts his gun on Tom when Tom'slookin' t'other way. 

"'See yere, Harris!' says East, that a-way. 

"Tom wheels, an' is lookin' into the mouth of East's six-shooter nota yard off. 

"'Put up your hands!' says East. 

"But Tom don't. He looks over the gun into East's eye; an' hefreezes him. Then slow an' delib'rate, an' glarin' like a mountainlion at East, Tom goes back after his Colt's an' pulls it. He laysher 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 everjingles a spur in the Panhandle country, can't take me! Nor all therangers neither!' An' they shore couldn't. "Now this yere break-awayof Tom's, when East gets the drop that time, takes courage. It ain'tone gent in a thousand who could make that trip but Tom. An' yetthis yere Tom is feared of a dark room. "Take Injuns;--give 'emtheir doo, even if we ain't got room for them miscreants in ourhearts. On his lines an' at his games, a Injun is as clean strain asthey makes. He's got courage, an' can die without battin' an eye orwaggin' a y'ear, once it's come his turn. An' the squaws is as colda prop'sition as the bucks. After a fight with them savages, whenyou goes 'round to count up an' skin the game, you finds most asmany squaws lyin' about, an' bullets through 'em, as you findsbucks. 

"Courage is sometimes knowledge, sometimes ignorance; sometimescourage is desp'ration, an' then ag'in it's innocence. "Once, abouttwo miles off, when I'm on the Staked Plains, an' near the aigewhere thar's pieces of broken rock, I observes a Mexican on foot, frantically chunkin' up somethin'. He's left his pony standin' off alittle, an' has with him a mighty noisy form of some low kind ofmongrel dog, this latter standin' in to worry whatever it is theMexican's chunkin' at, that a-way. I rides over to investigate thewar-jig; an' I'm a mesquite digger! if this yere transplantedCastillian 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 thatfeline--the same bein' as big as a coyote, an' as thoroughlyorganized for trouble as a gatling--with anythin' more puny than aWinchester. An' yet that guileless Mexican lays him out with rocks, and regyards sech feats as trivial. An American, too, by merelygrowlin' towards this Mexican, would make him quit out like a jackrabbit. "As I observes prior, courage is frequent the froots of whata gent don't know. Take grizzly b'ars. Back fifty years, when themsquirrel rifles is preevalent; when a acorn shell holds a charge ofpowder, an' bullets runs as light an' little as sixty-four to thepound, 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 sportwho 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 saidparty to credit in dance hall, bar room an' store, by merelyslammin' 'em on the counter. "At that time the grizzly b'ar hascourage. Whyever does he have it, you asks? Because you couldn'tstop him; he's out of hoomanity's reach--a sort o' Alexander Selkirkof a b'ar, an' you couldn't win from him. In them epocks, thegrizzly b'ar treats a gent contemptuous. He swats him, or he clawshim, 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' onhim at the time. An' the last thing he considers is the feelin's ofthat partic'lar party he's dallyin' with. Now, however, all ischanged. Thar's rifles, burnin' four inches of this yere fulminatin'powder, that can chuck a bullet through a foot of green oak. Wiselydirected, they lets sunshine through a grizzly b'ar like he's a paneof 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 grizzlyto 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 lickeramong 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 thepeace besides. Yes, sir; the day when the grizzly b'ar will standwithout hitchin' has deeparted the calendar a whole lot. They nolonger 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' littlebars, 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! Youexpresses doubts about anamiles conversin' with one another? That'swhere you're ignorant. All anamiles talks; they commoonicates thenews to one another like hoomans. When I've been freightin' fromDodge down towards the Canadian, I had a eight-mule team. As shoreas we're walkin'--as shore as I'm pinin' for a drink, I've listenedto them mules gossip by the hour as we swings along the trail. Lotsof times I saveys what they says. Once I hears the off-leader tellhis mate that the jockey stick is sawin' him onder the chin. Iinvestigates an' finds the complaint troo an' relieves him. The nighswing mule is a wit; an' all day long he'd be throwin' off remarksthat keeps a ripple of laughter goin' up an' down the team. You-allfinds trouble creditin' them statements. Fact, jest the same. I'velaughed at the jokes of that swing mule myse'f; an' even Jerry, theoff 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 hoomansain't eddicated to onderstand. 

"Speakin' of beasts talkin', let me impart to you of what passesbefore my eyes over on the Caliente. In the first place, I'll so farilloomine your mind as to tell you that cattle, same as people--an'speshully mountain cattle, where the winds an snows don't get todrive 'em an' drift 'em south--lives all their lives in the sameplaces, year after year; an' as you rides your ranges, you're allersmeetin' up with the same old cattle in the same canyons. They nevermoves, once they selects a home. 

"As I observes, I've got a camp on the Caliente. Thar's ten poniesin my bunch, as I'm saddlin' three a day an' coverin' a considerabledeal of range in my ridin'. Seein' as I'm camped yere some sixmonths, I makes the aquaintance of the cattle for over twenty miles'round. Among others, thar's a giant bull in Long's Canyon--he'sshoreiy 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'smiles from my camp. I almost forgets to say that with this yereGoliath bull is a milk-white steer, with long, slim horns an' a facewhich is the combined home of vain conceit an' utter witlessness. This milky an' semi-ediotic steer is a most abject admirer of theGoliath bull, an' they're allers together. As I states, thismountain of a bull an' his weak-minded follower lives in Long'sCanyon. 

"Thar's two more bulls, the same bein', as Colonel Sterett wouldsay, also 'persons of this yere dramy. ' One is a five-year-old whoabides 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, Imight as well give 'em their proper names. They gets these last allreg'lar from a play-actor party who comes swarmin' into the hillswhile I'm thar to try the pine trees on his 'tooberclosis, ' as hedescribes said malady, an' whose weakness is to saw off cognomens oneverythin' he sees. As fast as he's introdooced to 'em, this actorsport 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 mycamp in the Caliente, he addresses as 'Prince Hal. ' The fool of awhite steer that's worshippin' about 'Falstaff' gets named 'Pistol, 'although thar's mighty little about the weak-kneed humbug to remindyou 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 Wolfvilleone evenin'. No, he don't own no real business to transact; he's outto have a heart-to-heart interview with the great Southwest, is theway he expounds the objects of his search. 

"'An' he's plenty tender, ' says Black Jack, who's barkeep at the RedLight. 'He cornes pushin' along in yere this mornin'; an' wliat doyou-all reckon now he wants. Asks for ice! Now whatever do youmake of it! Ice in August, an' within forty miles of the Mexico lineat 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 forwater, an' indulges in much that is morally an' physically theteetotal reverse of right-side-up-with-care, so far in ourmeanderin's we ain't oncovered no glaciers nor cut the trail of anyice. Which if you've brought snowshoes with you now, or beenfiggerin' on a Arizona sleighride, you're settin' in hard luck. "'

"Jest as Black Jack gets that far in them statements, this yeretenderfoot 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 awide an' balmy way. 

"'Archibald Willingham De Graffenreid Butt, ' says Dave, readin' offthe kyard. Then Dave goes up to the side, an' all solemn an' grave, pins the kyard to the board with his bowie-knife. 'ArchibaldWillingham De Graffenreid Butt, ' an' Dave repeats the words plumbcareful. 'That's your full an' c'rrect name, is it?'

"The shorthorn allows it is, an' surveys Dave in a woozy way like heain'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'tthem 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 thancareless; it's callous. That's whatever; that camp is callous. Wasyou aimin' to stay for long in Wolfville with this yere title?' asksDave at last. 

"The shorthorn mentions a week. 

"'This yere Wolfville, ' explains Dave, 'is too small for all thatname. Archibald Willingham De Graffenreid Butt! It shorely soundslike 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 toprotrood. Or else it gets all brunkled up like along nigger in ashort 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 likesyour looks, an' shall come somewhat to your rescoo myse'f in yourpresent troubles. Gents, ' an' Dave turns to where Boggs an' Cherokeean' Texas Thompson is listenin', 'I moves you we suspends therooles, an' re-names this excellent an' well-meanin' maverick, "Butcherknife Bill. "'

"'I seconds the motion, ' says Boggs. 'Butcherknife Bill is a neatan' compact name. I congratulates our visitin' friend from the Easton the case wherewith he wins it out. I would only make onesu'gestion, the same bein' in the nacher of amendments to theorig'nal resolootion, an' which is, that in all games of shortkyards, or at sech times as we-all issues invitations to drink, orat any other epock when time should be saved an' quick action isdesir'ble, said cognomen may legally be redooced, to "Butch. "'

"'Thar bein' no objections, ' says Tutt, 'it is regyarded as thesense of the meetin' that this yere visitin' sharp from the States, yeretofore clogged in his flight by the name of Archibald WillinghamDe Graffenreid Butt, be yereafter known as "Butcherknife Bill"; orfailin' leesure for the full name, as "Butch, " or both at thediscretion of the co't, with the drinks on Butch as the gent nowprofitin' by this play. Barkeep, set up all your bottles an' c'llectfrom Butch. '

"But to go back to my long ago camp on the Caliente. Prince Hal is apolished an' p'lite sort o' anamile. The second day after I pitchescamp, Prince Hal shows up. He paws the grass, an' declar's himse'f, an' gives notice that while I'm plumb welcome, he wants itonderstood 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 ispacified; then he counts up the camp like he's sizin' up theplunder. It's at this point I signs Prince Hal as my friend for lifeby givin' him about a foot of bacon-skin. He stands an' chews onthat bacon-skin for two hours; an' thar's heaven in his looks. "Itgets so Prince Hal puts in all his spar' time at my camp. An' Idonates flapjacks, bacon-skins an' food comforts yeretofore onknownto Prince Hal. He regyards that camp of mine as openin' a new era onthe Caliente. 

"When not otherwise engaged, Prince Hal stands in to curry my ponieswith his tongue. The one he'd be workin' on would plant himse'frigid, with y'ears drooped, eyes shet, an' tail a-quiverin'; an'you-all could see that Prince Hal, with his rough tongue, is jestburnin' up that bronco from foretop to fetlocks with the joy of themattentions. When Prince Hal has been speshul friendly, I'd pass himout a plug of Climax tobacco. Sick? Never once! It merely elevatesPrince Hal's sperits in a mellow way, that tobacco does; makes himfeel vivid an' gala a whole lot. 

"Which we're all gettin' on as pleasant an' oneventful as a litterof pups over on the Caliente, when one mornin' across the dividefrom Red River comes this yere pugnacious person, Hotspur. He makeshis advent r'arin' an' slidin' down the hillside into our valley, promulgatin' insults, an' stampin' for war. You can see it inHotspur'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 hiswarcry in a deep bass voice, an' goes curvin' out onto the level ofthe valley-bottom to meet the enemy. Gin'ral Jackson, couldn't havedisplayed 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 Halcould say the most bitter things, for at last Hotspur leaves off hispawin' ail' profanity an' b'ars down on him. The two puts theirfore'ards together an' goes in for a pushin' match. 

"But this don't last. Hotspur is two years older, an' over-weighsPrince 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 shoreloser. 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 byeighty feet. Hotspur stands watchin'; it's a new wrinkle in bullfights to him. He call tell that this yere Prince Hal ain'tconquered none, both by the voylent remarks he makes as well as theplumb defiant way he wears his tail. So Hotspur stands an' pondersthe play, guessin' at what's likely to break loose next. 

"But the conduct of this yere Prince Hal gets more an' moremysterious. 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 atall; an' to be frank, no more can I. Prince Hal never looks back; hesurges straight ahead, climbs the hill on the other side, an' islost 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. Ofcourse, Hotspur an' I arrives at a treaty of peace by the bacon-rindroute, an' things ag'in quiets down on the Caliente. 

"It's next mornin' about fourth drink time, an' I'm overhaulin' asaddle an' makin' up some beliefs on several subjects of interest, when I observes Hotspur's face wearin' a onusual an' highly hang-dogexpression. An' I can't see no cause. I sweeps the scenery with myeye, but I notes nothin'. An' yet it's as evident as a club flushthat Hotspur's scared to a standstill. He ain't sayin nothin', butthat's because he thinks he'll save his breath to groan with whendyin'. It's a fact, son; I couldn't see nor hear a thing, an' yetthat Hotspur bull stands thar fully aware, somehow, that thar's awarrant out for him. 

"At last I'm made posted of impendin' events. Across the wideCaliente comes a faint but f'rocious war song. I glance over that a-way, an' thar through the oak bresh comes Prince Hal. An' althoughhe'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. Butjest then I gets a glimmer, far to Prince Hal's r'ar, of thatreedic'lous Pistol, the milk-white steer. 

"I beholds it all; Falstaff is comin'; only bein' a dark brown Ican't yet pick him out o' the bresh. Prince Hal has travelled overto Long's Canyon an' told the giant Falstaff how Hotspur jumps intothe Caliente an' puts it all over him that a-way. Falstaff islumberin' over--it's a journey of miles--to put this redundantHotspur back on his reservation. Prince Hal, bein' warm, lively an'plumb zealous to recover his valley, is nacherally a quarter of amile ahead of Falstaff. 

"It's allers a question with me why this yere foolhardy Hotspurdon'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 deviatetharfrom. 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, whocouldn't fight a little bit, an' who's caperin' along ten rods inthe lead of Falstaff, gets the sudden crazy-boss notion that he'llmete out punishment to Hotspur himse'f, an' make a reputation as awar-eagle with his pard an' patron, Falstaff. With that, Pistolcurves his tail like a letter S, and, lowerin' his knittin'-needlehorns, comes dancin' up to Hotspur. The bluff of this yere ignoblePistol is too much. Hotspur r'ars loose an' charges him. Thisegreegious Pistol gets crumpled up, an' Hotspur goes over him like abaggage wagon. The shock is sech that Pistol falls over a wash-bank;an' after swappin' end for end, lands twenty feet below with a groanan' a splash in the Caliente. Pistol is shorely used up, an' crawlsout on the flat ground below, as disconsolate a head o' cattle asever tempts the echoes with his wails. 

"But Hotspur has no space wherein to sing his vict'ry. Falstaffdecends upon him like a fallin' tree. With one rushin' charge, an' anote like thunder, he simply distributes that Hotspur all over therange. Thar's only one blow; as soon as Hotspur can round up hisfragments an' net to his hoofs, he goes sailin' down the valley, hiseyes stickin' out so's he can see his sins. As he starts, PrinceHal, who's been hoppin' about the rim of the riot, claps his hornsto Hotspur's flyin' hocks an' keeps him goin'. But it ain't needednone; 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 adeep bellow or two, like he's extendin' 'adios' to the entireCaliente canyon, an' then goes pirootin' off for home in Long's, with Pistol, who looks an' feels like a laughin' stock, limpin' athis heels. That's the end. Four days later, as I'm swingin' 'roundthe range, I finds Falstaff an' Pistol in Long's Canyon; Prince Halis 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' howI comes to plunge into this yere idyl, I desires to ask you-all, however Prince Hal brings Faistaff to the wars that time, if cattlecan't talk?"

CHAPTER XII. 

How Wolfville Made a Jest. 

"It's soon after that time I tells you of when Rainbow Sam diesoff, " and the Old Cattleman assumed the airs of a conversationalFroude, "when the camp turns in an' has its little jest with theSignal Service sharp. You sees we're that depressed about Rainbowcashin' in, we needc reelaxatin that a-way, so we-all nacheralenough diverts ourse'fs with this Signal party who comes bulgin' upall handy. 

"Don't make no mistaken notions about Wolfville bein' a idle an' adangerous camp. Which on the contrary, Wolfville is shorely the homeof jestice, an' a squar' man gets a squar' game every time. Tharain't no 'bad men' 'round Wolfville, public sentiment bein' obdurateon that p'int. Hard people, who has filed the sights offen theirsix-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' seenit in the smoke. Cherokee Hall, for instance, so Doc Peets mentionsto me private, one time an' another downs 'leven men. 

"But Cherokee's by nacher kind o' warm an' nervous, an' bein' he'sbehind 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, isthe man from Red Dog, the Stingin' Lizard, an' mebby a strayedMexican or so. But each time Cherokee's hand is forced by these yereparties, 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 putdown a bet that what he misses in the quadrille he'll shore make upin the waltz with all who asks him to a war dance. But speakin' ofknives: Cherokee comes as quick an' straight with a bowie as arattlesnake; an' not half the buzz about it. 

"But jest the same, while thar's gents in camp like Cherokee, whohas been ag'inst it more'n once, an' who wins an' gets away, stillWolfviile's its quiet an' sincere an outfit as any christian couldask. 

"It's a fact; when Shotgun Dowling capers in an' allows he's aboutto abide with us a whole lot, he's notified to hunt another hole thefirst 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 youbunkin' in yere for good, we ain't even aimin' to permit yourvisits. My notion is that you better pull your freight some instant. Thar's a half-formed thought in the public bosom that if anybodysees your trail to-morry, all hands'll turn in an' arrange you forthe grave. '

"'Never mind about arrangin' nothin', ' says Shotgun; 'I quits youafter the next drink; which libation I takes alone. ' An' Shotgunrides away. 

"What is the matter with Shotgun? Well, he's one of these yeremurderin' folks, goin' about downin' Mexicans merely to see 'emkick, 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'sdep'ty marshal over at Prescott. 

"'You must be partic'lar an' serve your warrant on a gent before youdowns him, ' says the judge, as he gives Shotgun some papers. 'Firstserve your warrant, an' then it's legal to kill him; but notwithout!'

"So Shotgun Dowling takes this yere warrant an' crams it down themuzzle of a shotgun an' hammers her out flat on top them buckshot. 

"'Thar you be!' says Dowling. 'I reckons' now the warrant gets tohim 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, wewarns him out as aforesaid. Which I, tharfore, ag'in remarks, thatWolfville is a mighty proper an' peaceful place, an' its witticismwith 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 heaphigh-flown. He's been pesterin' an' irritatin' about the post-officefor mighty like an hour, when all at once he crosses over to the RedLight an' squar's up to the bar. He don't invite none of us tolicker--jest himse'f; which onp'liteness is shore receivedinvidious. 

"'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 getno cocktail. 

"'Can't mix no drinks, ' says Black Jack. 

"'Can't mix no cocktail?' says the Signal sharp. 'Why! what a bandof prairie dogs this yere hamlet is! What's the matter with you-allthat 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 alaw ag'in cocktails an' all mixin' of drinks. You sees, a Mexicanfemale 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' hegoes plumb crazy. Then the Legislatoore arouses itse'f to its peril, that a-way, an' ups an makes a law abatin' of mixed drinks. Thisyere 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 ofstraight nose-paint, cavilin' hot at the tin cup, an' don't mentionnothin' more of cocktails. 

"'Whatever is the damage anyhow?' he says to Black Jack, soon ashe's quit gaggin' over the whiskey, the same tastin' raw an' viciousto him, an' him with his lady-like throat framed ready forcocktails. '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 poremanners, an' he marvels some he's still walkin' the earth. 

"'However, ' says Enright, 'I s'pose his livin' so long arises mainlyfrom 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 'rounda lot, ' asks Texas Thompson, 'an' havin' amoosement with him? Tharain't nothin' doin', an' we oughter not begretch a half-day's work, puttin' knowledge into this party. If somethin' ain't done forthwithto inform his mind as to them social dooties while he stays inArizona, you can gamble he won't last to go East no more. '

"As what Texas Thompson says has weight, thar begins to grow agen'ral desire to enlighten this yere sport. As Texas su'gests theidee, it follows that he goes for'ard to begin its execootion. 

"'But be discreet, Texas, ' says Enrialit, 'an' don't force noshowdown with this Signal gent. Attainin' wisdom is one thing, an'bein' killed that a-way, is plumb different; an' while I sees noobjection to swellin' the general fund of this young person'sknowledge, I don't purpose that you-all's goin' to confer nodiplomas, an' graduate him into the choir above none with a gun, atone an' the same time. '

"'None whatever, ' says Texas Thompson; 'we merely toys with thistenderfoot an' never so much as breaks his crust, or brings a dropof 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 thoughtfuldeecorum. '

"Texas Thompson goes a-weavin' up the street so as to cross thetrail of this Signal party, who's headed down. As they passes, Texasturns as f'rocious as forty timber wolves, an' claps his hand on theshoulder of the Signal party. 

"'How's this yere?' says Texas, shakin' back his long ha'r. An' heshorely 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 yeremultitood. 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 beinsulted an' disdained by a feeble shorthorn like this. It shoremakes me wonder be I alive!

"'Stranger, ' goes on Texas, turnin' to the Signal party, an' hishand 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 thismoment, I'd take a knife an' shorely split you like a mackerel. ButI restrains myse'f; also I don't notice no weepon onto you. Gotharfore, an' heel yourse'f, for by next drink time the avenger 'llbe huntin' on your trail. I gives you half an hour to live. Not onyour account, 'cause it ain't comin' to you; but merely not to ketchno angels off their gyard, an' to allow 'em a chance to organize foryour reception. Besides, I don't aim to spring no corpses on thiscamp. Pendin' hostil'ties, I shall rest myse'f in the Red Light, permittin' you the advantages of the dance hall, where Hamilton 'lllend you pen, ink, paper, an' monte table, wharby to concoct yourlast 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 shorelyalarmed. 

"'See yere, pard, ' says Dan Boggs, breakin' loose all at once, likehe's so honest he can't restrain himse'f, an' jest as Texas headsout for the Red Light; 'you're a heap onknown to me, but I takes achance an' stands your friend. Now yere's what you do. You stiffenyourse'f up with a Colt's '44, an' lay for this Texas Thompson. He'sa rustler an' a hoss-thief, an' a murderer who, as he says, hasplanted forty-two, not countin' Injuns, Mexicans an' mavericks. Heoughter 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 therooles 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 roolesshortly should permit a gent to scout off to one side the stricttrail a little; partic'lar when it's come down to savin' his ownskelp. '

"One way an' another, Tutt an' Boggs makes it cl'ar as paint to theSignal party that thar's only two chances left in the box; either hedowns Texas or Texas gets him. The Signal party says it's what hecalls a 'dread alternatif. '

"'Which when I thinks of the gore this yere murderous Thompsonalready dabbles in, ' says Boggs to the Signal party, 'I endorsesthem 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 ison you; an' if Texas beefs you--which, while deplorable, is noneremote considerin' this yere Texas is a reg'lar engine ofdestruction--we sees that your remainder goes back to the Statessuccessful. '

"The Signal party says he's thankful he's found friends, an'tharupon they-all lines out for the dance hall, where they getsdrinks, an' the Signal man, who's some pallid by now, figgers he'llwrite them letters an' sort o' straighten up his chips for theworst. Boggs observes that it's a good move, an' that Tutt an' he'lltake an o'casional drink an' ride herd on his interests while hedoes. 

"Tutt an' Boggs have got their brands onto mebby two drinks, whenover comes Doc Peets, lookin' deadly dignified an' severe, an' says:

"'Who-all represents yere for this gent who's out for the blood ofmy friend, Texas Thompson?'

"'Talk to me an' Tutt, ' says Boggs; 'an' cut her short, 'cause it'sthe opinion of our gent this rancorous Thompson infests the earthtoo long, an' he's hungerin' to begin his butchery. '

"'Which thar's enough said, ' says Peets; 'I merely appears to notifyyou 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 startsto this yere conference, he says: "Doc, make her six-shooters an'over a handkerchief. I thirsts to shove the iron plumb ag'inst theheart that insults me, as I onhooks my weepon. "'

"Of course, the poor Signal party, tryin' to write over by a montetable, 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 gentan' 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 awhite-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 anymoment, an' go r'arin' about an' killin' your gent without orders. Sech a play would be onelegant an' no delicacy to it; an' I nowreturns to gyard ag'in it. '

"As soon as Peets is started for the Red Light, Tutt ag'in turns tothe Signal party, who's settin' thar lookin' he'pless an' worried, like he's a prairie dog who's come back from visitin' some otherdog, an' finds a rattlesnake's done pitched camp in the mouth of hishole. 

"'Now then, stranger, ' says Tutt, 'if you-all has a'complished thatclerical work, me an' Dan will lead you to your meat. When you getsto shootin', aim low an' be shore an' see your victim every time youcuts her loose. '

"The Signal party takes it plumb gray an' haggard, but not seein' noother 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'sbeen 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 yelllike forty Apaches pours forth from across the street. 

"'That's Thompson's war yelp, ' says Boggs, explainin' of themclamors to the Signal party. 'Which it would seem from the fervor heputs into it, he's shorely all keyed up. '

"As Doc Peets comes out a-leadin' of Texas, it's noticed that Texashas got a tin cup. 

"'Whatever's your gent a-packin' of that yootensil for?' demandsTutt, mighty truculent. 'Is this yere to be a combat with dippers?'

"'Oh, no!' says Peets, like he's tryin' to excuse somethin', 'but heinsists on fetchin' it so hard, that at last to soothe him I givesmy consent. '

"'Well, we challenges the dipper, ' says Tutt. 'You-all will fight onthe squar', or we removes our gent. '

"'Don't, don't!' shouts Texas, like he's agitatcd no limit; 'don'ttake him outen my sight no more. I only fetches the cup to drink hisblood; but it's a small detail, which I shore relinquishes beforeever I allows my heaven-sent prey the least loophole to escape. '

"When Peets goes up an' takes Texas's cup, the two debates togetherin a whisper, Texas lettin' on he's mighty hot an' furious. At lastPeets says to him:

"'Which I tells you sech a proposal is irreg'lar; but since youinsists, of course I names it. My gent yere, ' goes on Peets to Boggsan' Tutt, 'wants to agree that the survivor's to be allowed to skelphis 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 thatSignal person when Boggs an' Tutt starts to lead him up to theblanket. His face looks like a cancelled postage-stamp. Whilethey're standin' up their folks, Texas goes ragin' loose ag'inbecause it's a fight over a blanket an' not a handkerchief, as hedemands. 

"'What's the meanin' of a cold an' formal racket sech as this?' hehowls, turnin' to Peets. 'I wants to go clost to my work; I wants tocrowd in where it's warm. '

"'I proposes a handkerchief, ' says Peets; 'but Tutt objects on thegrounds 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 sodhouse. '

"'What do I hear?' shouts Peets. 'You calls me a liar?'

"At this Tutt an' Peets lugs out their guns an' blazes away at eachother 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'dscare me, only I knows it's yoomerous. Of course Peets an' Tuttmisses every shot, and at the windup, after glarin' at each otherthrough the clouds, Peets says to Tutt:

"'This yere is mere petulance. Let's proceed with our dooties. Assoon 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 inthe 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 byBoggs from runnin' away, Jack Moore comes chargin' up on his ponyan' throws a gun on the whole outfit. 

"'Hands up yere!' he says, sharp an' brief; 'or I provides thecoyotes with meat for a month to come. '

"Everybody's hands goes up; an' it's plain Moore's comin' ain't nodisapp'intment to the Signal person. He's that relieved he shows it. 

"'Don't look so tickled, ' growls Boggs to him, as Moore heads theround-up for the New York Store; 'don't look so light about it; youmortifies me. '

"Moore takes the band over to the New York Store, where Enright'ssettin' as a jedge. He allows he's goin' to put 'em all on trial fordisturbin' of Wolfville's peace. The Signal sharp starts to saysomethin', when Peets interrupts, an' that brings Boggs to thefront, an' after that a gen'ral uproar breaks loose like a stampede. 

"'Gimme a knife, somebody, ' howls Texas, 'an' let me get in on thisas I should. Am I to be robbed of my revenge like this?'

"But Enright jumps for a old Spencer seven-shooter, an' announces itcold, he's out to down the first gent that talks back to him asecond time. This ca'ms 'em, an' the riot sort o' simmers. 

"'Not that I objects to a street fight, ' says Enright, discussin' ofthe 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 apassel of old ladies at a quiltin' bee, than a convocation ofdiscreet an' se'f-respectin' gents who's pullin' off a dooel. To cuther short, the public don't tolerate no sech rackets, an' yere-uponI 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; butthe Signal sharp, bein' strange in camp, can't put up no bonds. 

"'Whlch as thar's no calaboose to put you into, ' says Enright, whenhe's told by the Signal party that he can't make no bonds; 'an' asit's plumb ag'in the constitootion of Arizona to let you go, I shoresees no trail out but hangin'. I regrets them stern necessitieswhich feeds a pore young man to the halter, but you sees yourse'fthe 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 partswith 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 degreethat he camps down on a shoe-box an' allows he needs a drink. Boggssays he'll go after it, when Tutt breaks in an' announces that he'sgot a bluff to hand up. 

"'If I'm dead certain, ' says Tutt, surveyin' of the Signal party aheap doubtful; 'if I was shore now that this gent wouldn't leave thereservation none, I'd go that bond myse'f. But I'm in no sech fixfinancial as makes it right for me to get put in the hole for fiftythousand dollars by no stranger, however intimate we be. But yere'swhat I'm willin' to do: If this sharp wears hobbles so he can't upan' canter off, why, rather than see a young gent's neck a footlonger, I goes this bail myse'f. '

"The Signal party is eager for hobbles, an' he gives Tutt his wordto sign up the documents an' he wont run a little bit. 

"'Which the same bein' now settled, congenial an' legal, ' saysEnright, when Tutt signs up; 'Jack Moore he'ps the gent on with themhobbles, an' the court stands adjourned till further orders. '

"After he's all hobbled an' safe, Tutt an' the Signal party startsover for the post-office, both progressin' some slow an' reluctantbecause 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 admireto know whatever you an' that cut-throat takes to chewin' of eachother's manes for, anyway? Why did you refoose to bow?'

"'Which I never refooses once, ' says the Signal party; 'I salootesthis 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 embrogliocan't be reeconciled a lot. Mootual apol'gies an' whiskey, lookslike, 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 theRed Light to look up Texas Thompson. It ain't no time when he'sheaded back with Texas an' the balance of the band. 

"'Give us your hand, pard, ' says Texas, a heap effoosive, as hecomes up to the Signal party; 'I learns from our common friend, DaveTutt, that this yere's a mistake, an' I tharfore forgives you freelyall the trouble you causes. It's over now an' plumb forgot. You're adead game sport, an' I shakes your hand with pride. '

"'Same yere, ' says Doc Peets, also shakin' of the Signal party'shand, which is sort o' limp an' cheerless. 

"However, we rips off his hobbles, an' then the outfit steers overto 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, ashe 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 ofthe 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 acorpse 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 fullhint of his amazement as he repeated in the idiom of his day andkind the substance of my interrogatory. 

"Why, son, " he continued, "every longhorn who's ever cinched aColorado saddle, or roped a steer, is plumb aware of locoweed. Locois Mexicano for mad--crazy. An' cattle or mules or ponies oranythin' else, that makes a repast of locoweed--which as a roolethey don't, bein' posted instinctif that loco that a-way is nobueno--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' standstaller than the grass about it. An' it ain't allers thar when lookedfor, loco ain't. It's one of these yere migratory weeds; you'll seeit growin' about the range mebby one or two seasons, an' then itsort o' pulls its freight. Thar wont come no more loco for years. 

"Mostly, as I observes prior, anamiles disdains loco, an' passes itup as bad medicine. They're organized with a notion ag'inst it, sameas ag'inst rattlesnakes An'as for them latter reptiles, you cantake a preacher's hoss, foaled in the lap of civilization, who ain'tseen nothin' more broadenin' than the reg'lar church service, withnow an' then a revival, an' yet he's born knowin' so much aboutrattlesnakes in all their hein'ousness, that he'll hunch his backan' go soarin' 'way up yonder at the first Zizzz-z-z-z. 

"Doc Peets informs me once when we crosses up with some locoweedover by the Cow Springs, that thar's two or three breeds of thismalignant vegetable. He writes down for me the scientific name ofthe sort we gets ag'inst. Thar she is. "

And my friend produced from some recess of a gigantic pocketbook acard whereon the learned Peets had written oxytropis Lamberti. 

"That's what Peets says loco is, " he resumed, as I handed back thecard. "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 Peetsis. He's shorely the high kyard; thar never is that drug-sharp inthe cow country in my day who's fit to pay for Peets' whiskey. Scientific an' eddicated to a feather aige, Peets is. "You-alloughter heard him lay for one of them cliff-climbin', bone-huntin'stone c'llectors who comes out from Washin'ton for the Gov'ment. Oneof 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' tosplit things wide open. He's that contrary about his learnin', hewont use nothin' but words of four syllables-words that runs abouteight 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 uswalkin' in a cirkle in a minute. "It's Peets who relieves us. Peetsstrolls up an' engages this person in a debate touchin' mule-hoofhawgs; the gov'ment sport maintainin' thar ain't no such swine withhoofs like a mule, because he's never heard about 'em; an' Peetstakin' the opp'site view because he's done met an' eat 'etn a wholelot. "'The mere fact, ' says Peets to this scientist, 'that youmavericks never knows of this mule-hoof hawg, cannot be taken asproof he does not still root an' roam the land. Thar's more than oneof you Washin'ton shorthorns who's chiefly famed for what he'sfailed to know. The mule-hoof hawg is a fact; an' the ignorance ofcloset naturalists shall not prevail ag'inst him. His back is archedlike a greyhound's, he's about the thickness of a bowie-knife, he'sgot hoofs like a mule, an' sees his highest deevelopment in thewilds of Arkansaw. ' "But speakin' of locoweed, it's only o'casionalthat cattle or mules or broncos partakes tharof. Which I mightrepeat 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 itdawns on you, by compar'son like, how much he saveys prior. Thechange shows plainest in mules; they bein'--that is, the mule normalan' before he's locoed--the wisest of beasts. Wise, did I say? Amule is more than valise, he's sagacious. An' thar's a mighty sightof difference. To be simply wise, all one has to do is set 'roundan' think wise things, an' mebby say 'em. It's only when a gent goestrackin' '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 everonbends in a intellectual competition--whites barred--mules willstand at the head. The list should come out, mules, coyotes, Injuns, Mexicans, ponies, jack rabbits, sheepherders, an' pra'ry dogs, thelast two bein' shorely imbecile. 

"Yes, son; you can lean up ag'inst the intelligence of a mule an' goto sleep. Not but what mules hasn't their illoosions, sech as whitemares an' sim'lar reedie'lous inflooences; but them's weaknesses ofthe sperit rather than of mind. 

"While mules don't nacherally go scoutin' for loco, an' commonlyavoids said weed when found, if they ever does taste it once, theynever quits it as long as they lives. It's like whiskey to Hugginsan' Old Monte; the appetite sort o' goes into camp with 'em an'takes possession. No; a locoed mule ain't vicious nor voylent; it'smore 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 levelplains in the sun, kickin' an' pitchin' to beat a straight flush. Hethinks he's surrounded by Injuns or other hostiles; he's that crazyhe 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 aWinchester an' pumps a bullet into 'em. 

"Yes, Peets says if a gent was to take to loadin' up on loco, ordeecoctions tharof, he'd become afflicted by bats, same as cattlean' mules. But no one I knows of, so far as any news of it evercomes grazin' my way, is that ongyarded. I never hears tell indetail of sech a case but onct, an' that's a tale that Old ManEnright sets forth one evenin' in the Red Light. 

"We-all is settin' 'round the faro layout at the time. Cherokee Hallis back of the box, with Faro Nell on the look-out's stool, butnobody's feelin' playful, an' no money's bein' changed in. It's onlyabout first drink time in the evenin', which, as a season, isprematoor for faro-bank. It's Dave Tutt who brings up the matterwith some remarks he makes touchin' the crazy-hoss conduct of aparty who works over to the stage company's corral. This hoss-hustler is that eccentric he's ediotic, an' is known as 'LocoedCharlie. ' It's him who final falls a prey to ants that time. 

"'An' it's my belief, ' asserts Tutt, as he concloodes his relationsof the ranikaboo breaks of this party, 'that if this Charlie, speakin' mine fashion, was to take his intellects over to the assayoffice in Tucson, they wouldn't show half a ounce of idee to theton; wouldn't even show a color. Which he's shore locoed. '

"'Speakin' of being locoed that a-way, ' says Enright, 'recalls anincident that takes place back when I'm a yearlin' an' assoomes myfeeble part in the Mexican War. That's years ago, but I don't knowof nothln' sadder than that story, nothin' more replete of sobs. Notthat 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 alove story, ' an' she reaches down an' squeezes Cherokee's hand onderthe table. 

"Cherokee squeezes hers, an' turns his deal box on its side to showthar'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 abottle with glasses all 'round. 

"'Yere's to you, Nellie, ' says Texas Thompson, as we shoves thenose-paint about. 'While that divorce edict my wife wins back inLaredo modifies my interest in love tales, an' whereas I don't feelthem thrills as was the habit of me onct, still, in a subdooed way Ican drink happiness to you. '

"'Texas, 'says Boggs, settin' down his glass an' bendin' a eye fullof indignant reproach on Thompson; 'Texas, before I'd give way tosech onmanly weakness, jest because my wife's done stampeded, I'dj'ine the church. Sech mush from a cow-man is disgraceful. You'llcome down to herdin' sheep if you keeps on surrenderin' yourse'f tosech 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 yoursis too coarse to feel, but you can gamble your bottom dollar, jestthe same, I will still resent insultin' criticisms. I advises you tobe careful an' get your chips down right when you addresses me, oryou 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 ofa love romance by the ardent requests of Nell, an' you two longhornshas to come prancin' out an' go pawin' for trouble. You know mightywell, Texas, that Boggs is your friend an' the last gent to goharassin' you with contoomely. '

"'Right you be, Jack, ' says Boggs plenty prompt; 'if my remarks toTexas is abrupt, or betrays heat, it's doo to the fact that itexasperates me to see the most elevated gent in camp--for so I holdsTexas Thompson to be--made desolate by the wild breaks of a lady whodon't know her own mind, an' mighty likely ain't got no mind toknow. '

"'I reckons I'm wrong, Dan, ' says Thompson, turnin' apol'getic. 'Letit all go to the diskyard. I'm that peevish I simply ain't fit tostay yere nor go anywhere else. I ain't been the same person sincemy wife runs cimmaron that time an' demands said sep'ration. '

"'Bein' I'm a married man, ' remarks Dave Tutt, sort o' gen'ral, butswellin' 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, Ideclines all partic'pation in discussions touchin' the sex. I could, however, yoonite with you-all in another drink, an' yereby su'geststhe salve. Barkeep, it's your play. ' "'That's all right aboutanother drink, ' says Faro Nell, 'but I wants to state that Isympathizes with Texas in them wrongs. I has my views of a femalewho would up an' abandon a gent like Texas Thompson, an' I explainsit only on the theery that she shorely must have been coppered inher cradle. '

"'Nellie onderstands my feelin's, ' says Texas, an' he's plumbmournful, 'an' I owes her for them utterances. However, on secondthought, an' even if it is a love tale, if Enright will resoome hisrelations touchin' that eepisode of the Mexican War, I figgers thatit may divert me from them divorce griefs I alloodes to. An', at anyrate, win or lose, I assures Enright his efforts will be regyarded. '

"Old Man Enright takes his seegyar out of his mouth an' rouses up abit. He's been wropped in thought doorin' the argyments of Boggs an'Thompson, like he's tryin' to remember a far-off past. As Thompsonmakes 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 themdetails. As I remarks, its towards the close of the Mexican War. Whatever I'm doin' in that carnage is a conundrum that's never beensolved. I had hardly shed my milk teeth, an' was only 'leven handshigh at the time. An' I ain't so strong physical, but I feels theweight of my spurs when I walks. As I looks back to it, I must havebeen about as valyooable an aid to the gov'ment, as the fifth kyardin 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 outentire, that war couldn't have suffered material charges in itsresults. However, to get for'ard, for I sees that Nellie's patiencebegins to mill an' show symptoms of comin' stampede. 

"'It's at the close of hostil'ties, ' goes on Enright, 'an' thecompany I'm with is layin' up in the hills about forty miles backfrom Vera Cruz, dodgin' yellow fever. We was cavalry, what the folksin Tennessee calls a "critter company, " an', hailin' mostly fromthat meetropolis or its vicinity, we was known to ourse'fs at leastas the "Pine Knot Cavaliers. " Thar's a little Mexican village wherewe be that's called the "Plaza Perdita. " An' so we lays thar at thePlaza Perdita, waitin' for orders an' transportation to take us backto 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 isplayin' monte, an' eatin' frijoles, an' accommodatin' ourse'fs tothe simple life of the place. Onct a week the chaplain preaches tous. He holds that Mexico is a pagan land, an', entertainin' thisidee, he certainly does make onusual efforts to keep our moralsclose-herded, an' our souls bunched an' banded up in the Christianfaith, as expressed by the Baptis' church. Candor, however, compelsme to say that this yere pulpit person can't be deescribed as aheavy winner on the play. ' "'Was you-all so awful bad?' asks FaroNell. 

"'No, ' replies Enright, 'we ain't so bad none, but our conduct is aheap onhampered, which is the same thing to the chaplain. He givesit out emphatic, after bein' with the Pine Knot Cavaliers over ayear, that he plumb despairs of us becomin' christians. '

"'Whatever does he lay down on you-all like that for?' says FaroNell. 'Couldn't a soldier be a christian, Daddy Enright?'

"'Why, I reckons he might, ' says Enright, he'pin' himse'f to adrink; 'a soldier could he a christian, Nellie, but after all itain't necessary. 

"'Still, we-all likes the chaplain because them ministrations of hisis entertainin', an', for that matter, he likes us a lot, an' inmore reelaxed moments allows we ain't so plumb crim'nal--merelyloose 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 remembersonce ridin' into a hamlet back in the Kaintucky mountains. Tharain't one hundred people in the village, corral count. An' yet Inotes two church edifices. 

"You-all is plenty opulent on sanctooaries, " I says to the barkeepat the tavern where I camps for the night. "It's surprisin', too, when you considers the size of the herd. What be the twodeenom'nations that worships at them structures?"

"'"Both Baptis', " says the barkeep. 

"'"Whyever, since they're ridin' the same range an' runnin' the samebrand, " I says, "don't they combine like cattle folks an' work theirround-ups together?"

"'"They splits on doctrine, " says the barkeep; "you couldn't get 'emtogether with a gun. They disagrees on Adam. That outfit in thevalley holds that Adam was all right when he started, but later hestruck something an' glanced off; them up on the hill contends thatAdam was a hoss-thief from the jump. An' thar you be! You couldn'treeconcile 'em between now an'the crack of doom. Doctrines to aBaptis' 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 onaskedreminiscences, I may say that a first source of pleasure to us, ifnot of profit, while we stays at the Plaza Perdita, is a passel ofMexicanos with a burro train that brings us our pulque from some'ersback further into the hills. '"

"What's pulque?" I interjected. 

It was plain that my old gentleman of cows as little liked myinterruption as Enright liked that of the volatile Tutt. He hid hisirritation, however, under an iron politeness and explained. 

"Pulque is a disapp'intin' form of beverage, wharof it takes a bar'lto get a gent drunk, " he observed. And then, with some severity: "Itain't for me to pull no gun of criticism, but I'm amazed that aparty of your attainments, son, is ignorant of pulque. It's, as Isays, a drink, an' it tastes like glucose an' looks like yeast. Itcomes from a plant, what the Mexicans calls 'maguey, ' an' Peetscalls a 'aloe. ' The pulque gatherers scoops out the blossom of themaguey 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 amonth. That's straight, sixty gallons from one maguey before ever itquits an' refooses to further turn the game. That's pulque, an' whenthem Greasers gathers it, they puts it into a pigskin-skinnedcomplete, the pig is; them pulduc receptacles is made of the entirebark of the anamile. When the pulque's inside, they packs it, backdown an' hung by all four laigs to the saddle, a pigskin on eachside of the burro. It's gathered the evenin' previous, an' broughtinto camp in the night so as to keep it cool. 

"When I'm a child, an' before ever I connects myse'f with the cowtrade, 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 whocontreebutes to these yere festivals a drink she calls 'sproocebeer. ' An' pulque, before it takes to frettin' an' fermentin''round, in them pigskins, reminds me a mighty sight of that sproocebeer. Later it most likely reminds you of the pigskin. 

"Mexican barkeeps, when they sells pulque, aims to dispose of it twoglasses at a clatter. It gives their conceit a chance to spreaditse'f an' show. The pulque is in a tub down back of the bar. Thisyere vain Mexican seizes two glasses between his first an' secondfingers, an' with a finger in each glass. Then he dips 'em fullback-handed; an' allers comes up with the back of his hand an' thetwo fingers covered with pulque. He claps 'em on the bar, eyes you aheap 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 pulqueoff his fingers into the two glasses. If he spatters a drop on thebar, 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'smighty few still-houses in Mexico. But that's no set-back to themGreasers when they're out to construct mescal. As a roole Mexicansis slow an oninventive; but when the question becomes thearrangement of somethin' to be drunk with, they're plenty fertile. Jest by the way of raw material, if you'll only confer on a Mexicana kettle, a rifle bar'l, a saddle cover, an' a pigskin full of sourpulque, he'll be conductin' a mescal still in full blast at the endof the first hour. But to go back to Enright's yarn. 

"'These yere pulque people, ' says Enriglit, 'does a fa'rly rapidcommerce. For while, as you-all may know, pulque is tame an' lacksin reebound as compared with nose-paint, still when pulque is thebest thar is, the Pine Knot Cavaliers of the Plaza Perdita investsheavily tharin. That pulque's jest about a stand-off for thechaplain'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 pulqueslaves, 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 anold she-wolf with her whose name is Magdalena. I'm not myse'f whatthey calls in St. Looey a "connoshur" of female loveliness, an' it'sa pity now that some gifted gent like Doc Peets yere don't see thisDonna 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 likevelvet, 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, theDonna Anna is, an' as dark an' as warm an' as full of life as anight in Joone. She's of the grande, for the mule she's ridin', gent-fashion, is worth forty ponies. Its coat is soft, an' shinylike this yere watered silk, while its mane an' tail is braided witha hundred littler silver bells. The Donna Anna is dressed halfMexican an' half Injun, an' thar's likewise a row of bells about thewide brim of her Chihuahua hat. 

"'Thar's mebby a half-dozen of us standin' 'round when the DonnaAnna comes up. Nacherally, we-all is interested. The Donna Anna, bein' only eighteen an' a Mexican, is not abashed. She waves herhand an' says, "How! how!" Injun fashion. An' gives us a white flashof teeth between her red lips. Then a band of nuns comes out of alittle convent, which is one of the public improvements of the PlazaPerdita, an' they rounds up the Donna Anna an' the wrinkledMagdalena, an' takes 'em into camp. The Donna Anna an' the other iscamped in the convent doorin' the visit. No, they're not locked upnor gyarded, an' the Donna Anna comes an' goes in an' out of thatconvent as free as birds. The nuns, too, bow before her like her ownpeonies. 

"'Thar's a Lootenant Jack Spencer with us; he hails from further upthe Cumberland than me--some'ers near Nashville. He's light-ha'redan' light-hearted, Spencer is; an' as straight an' as strong as apine-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 ineach other's company, one is jestified in assoomin' they experiencesa tender interest. The Donna Anna can't talk Americano, but Spenceris a sharp on Spanish; an' you can bet a pony, if he wasn't, he'dset 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' oneanother. 

Love it might be, an' less we cares for that. Our army, when itain't fightin', is makin' love throughout the entire Mexican War;an' by the time we're at the Plaza Perdita, love, mere everydaylove, either as a emotion or exhibition, is plenty commonplace. An'so no one is interested, an' no one keeps tabs on Spencer an' theDonna 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 comedown to the coast an' embark for New Orleans. The word is passed, an' our little jimcrow camp buzzes like bees, with us gettin' readyto 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 Cruzbefore we sails. That's the last we-all ever beholds of LootenantJack Spencer. "'When Spencer don't show up none in Vera Cruz, an'the ship throws loose without him, he's marked, "missin', " on thecompany'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'. Spencernot only don't come back to Tennessee none; he don't even send noword nor make so much as a signal smoke to let on whar he's at. Thisyere, to some, is more or less disapp'intin'. "'Thar's a lady backin Tennessee which Spencer's made overtures to. Before he goes towar 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'liesof the whole Cumberland country. I will interject right yere to saythat thar's ladies of two sorts. If a loved one, tender an' troo, turns up missin' at roll-call, an' the phenomenon ain't accompaniedwith explanations, one sort thinks he's quit, an' the other thinkshe's killed. Spencer's inamorata is of the former. She's got whatthe neighbors calls "hoss sense. " She listens to what little thar isto 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 jumpssome gent--who's off his gyard an' is lulled into feelin's of falsesecoority--ropes, throws, ties an' weds him a heap, an' he wakes upto find he's a gone fawn-skin, an' to realize his peril after he'sonder its hoofs. That's what this Cumberland lady does. I makes nocomments; 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'inof Lootenant Jack Spencer of the Pine Knot Cavaliers. It's this a-way: I'm stoppin' with my old gent near Warwhoop Crossin', the samebein' a sister village to Pine Knot, when he's recalled to my boyishmind. 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 brothersnor sisters; an' as for fathers an' mothers an' sech, they allcashes in before ever Spencer stampedes off for skelps in thatMexican War at all. "'These yere kin of Spencer's stands his absenceca'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 feltthe least cur'ous concernin' him--for they're as cold-blooded aschannel catfish--if it ain't that Spencer's got what them lawcoyotes calls a "estate, " an' this property sort o' presses theirhands. So it falls out like, that along at the last of the year, ablack-coat party-lawyer he is-comes breezin' up to me in Warwhoopan' says he's got to track this yere Spencer to his last camp, deador alive, an' allows I'd better sign for the round-up an' accompanythe expedition as guide, feclos'pher an' friend--kind o' go 'longan' scout for the campaign. "'Two months later me an' that law sharpis in the Plaza Perdita. We heads up for the padre. It's my viewfrom the first dash outen the box that the short cut to find Spenceris to acc'rately discover the Donna Anna; so we makes a line for thepadre. In Mexico, the priests is the only folks who saveys anythin';an', as if to make up for the hoomiliatin' ignorance of the balanceof the herd, an' promote a average, these yere priests jest aboutknows everythin'. An' I has hopes of this partic'lar padre speshul;for I notes that, doorin' them times when Spencer an' the Donna Annais 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 thebars an' fences up through some covert steers he vouchsafes fromtime to time to the old Magdalena. "'No; you bet this padre don't atthat time wax vocif'rous or p'inted none about Spencer an' the DonnaAnna. Which he's afraid if he gets obnoxious that a-way, the PineKnot Cavaliers will rope him up a lot an' trade him for beef. Shoredon't you-all know that? When we're down in Mexico that time, withold Zach Taylor, an' needs meat, we don't go ridin' our mounts todeath combin' the hills for steers. All we does is round up a bandof padres, or monks, an' then trade 'em to their par'lyzedcongregations for cattle. We used to get about ten steers for apadre; an' we doles out them divines, one at a time, as we needs thebeef. It's shorely a affectin' sight to see them parish'ners, withtears 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 forhim an' the law sport. 

"'"You do well to come to me, my children, " he says. "The SenorJuan"--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 isthe house of the Donna Anna. That will be to-morrow. Meanwhile, whois to protect Juarez, my beloved chicken, in his battle when I willbe away? Ah! I remember! The Don Jose Miguel will do. He is skilfulof cocks of the game. Also he has bet money on Juarez; so he will befaithful. Therefore, to-morrow, my children, we will go to the DonnaAnna'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 goodroad-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 strongbank-roll would throw up. It's built all 'round a court, with aflower garden and a fountain in the centre. As we comes up, Iobserves the old Magdalena projectin' about the main door of thecasa, stirrin' up some lazy peonies to their daily toil--which, touse the word "toil, " however, in connection with a Greaser, is plumbsarcastic. 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 DonnaAnna. "

"'It's a set-back, ' continyoos Enright, as he signals Black Jack thebarkeep to show us he's awake; 'it's shorely a disaster that somebook-instructed gent like Peets or Colonel Sterett don't hear thispadre when he makes them revelations that day. Not that I overlooksa bet, or don't recall 'em none; but I ain't upholstered with themelegancies of diction needed to do 'em justice now. My language isroode 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 theo'casion demands. Of course, I can read an' write common week-dayprint; but when thar's a call for more, I'm mighty near asillit'rate that a-way as Boggs. '

"'Which, as you su'gests, I'm plumb ignorant, ' admits Boggs, 'but itain't the fault none of my bringin' up neither. It jest looks like Inever 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 yereto express my regrets at them weaknesses. If I was a eddicated gentlike Doc Peets is, you can put down all you has, I'd be thecunnin'est wolf that ever yelps in Cochise County. '

"'An' thar ain't no doubt of that, Boggs, ' observes Enright, as hereorganizes to go ahead with them Donna Anna mem'ries of his. 'Whichif you only has a half of Peets' game now, you'd be the hardestthing--mental--to ride that ever invades the Southwest. Nacherally, an' in a wild an' ontrained way, you're wise. But to rcsoome: Asmuch as I can, I'll give the padre in his own words. He takes us outonder 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'squite 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 apray'r, an' tosses a rock on the grave. When we-all is campedcomfortable, 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 manymonths ago when, from the Plaza Perdita, they came together here tothe Donna Anna's house, the Hacienda Tulorosa. Who was the DonnaAnna? Her mother was an Indian, a Navajo, and the child of a headman. Her father was the Senor Ravel, a captain of war he was, andthe Americanos slew him at Buena Vista. No; they were not married, the father and the mother of the Donna Anna. But what then? Thereare more children than weddings in Mexico. Also the mother of theDonna Anna was a Navajo. The Captain Ravel long ago brought her tothe Hacienda Tulorosa for her home--her and the Donna Anna. But themother lived not long, for the Indian dies in a house. This is yearsgone 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 theSenor Juan became like a little child-muchachito. This was within afew days after he came here. Then he lived until ten days ago; butalways a little child. "'When the Senor Juan is dead, the Donna Annasends 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, ' saysthe Donna Anna. Ah! she was very beautiful! the Donna Anna. Youshould have seen her, my children. "'When the Senor Juan is laidaway, the Donna Anna tells me all. 'He came, the Senor Juan, ' saysthe Donna Anna, 'and I gave him all my love. But in a day he was tohave gone to his home far away with the Americanos. Then I wouldnever 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, butit was enough. Then his memory sank and sank; and he forgot theSenorita Americana; and he remembered not to go away to his home;and he became like a little child with me. The good loco drove everyone from his heart; and all from his mind-all, save me, the DonnaAnna. 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 beenabout the Senor Juan. And I have been very, very happy with mymuchachito, the Senor Juan. Yes, I knew he would go; because nonemay live who drinks the loco. But it would be months; and I did notcare. He would be mine, ever my own, the Senor Juan; for when hedied, could I not die and follow him? We were happy these monthswith the flowers and the fountain and each other. I was happier thanhe; for I was like the mother, and he like a little child. But itwas much peace with love! And we will be happy again to-morrow whenI 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 thepadre, "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 theparting rites of the church. ' But the Donna Anna would not. 'I willgo as went the Senor Juan, ' she says; 'else I may find anotherheaven and we may not meet. ' Nor could I move the Donna Anna fromher resolution. 'The Senor Juan is a heretic and must now be inperdition, ' I say. 'Then will I, too, go there, ' replies the DonnaAnna, 'for we must be together; I and the Senor Juan. He is mine andI will not give him up to be alone with the fiends or with theangels. ' 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 theafternoon 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 doneyou will seek me by the grave of my Senor Juan. ' Then she turns togo. 'And adios to you, my daughter, ' I say, as she departs from myview. And so I smoke my cigars; and when the hour is done, I go alsoto the grave of the Senor Juan--the new grave, just made, with itslow hill of warm, fresh earth. 

"'" True! it was as you guess. There, with her face on that littleround of heaped-up earth, lay the Donna Anna. And all the blood ofher heart had made red the grave of her Senor Juan. The little knifeshe died by was still in her hand. No, I do not fear for them, mychildren. They are with the good; the Donna Anna and her Senor Juan. They were guiltless of all save love; and the good God does notpunish love. "'"

CHAPTER XIV. 

How Jack Rainey Quit. 

"Customary, we has our social round-ups in theRed Light, " observed the Old Cattleman; "which I mentions once itdoes us for a club. We're all garnered into said fold that time whenDave Tutt tells us how this yere Jack Rainey quits out. "'Raineygets downed, ' says Tutt, 'mainly because his system's obscoore, an'it chances that a stranger who finds himse'f unmeshed tharin takesit plumb ombrageous; an' pendin' explanations, gets tangled up witha 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 Iallers holds, ' goes on Tutt, 'an' still swings an' rattles with thatdecision, that it's manners to ask strangers to drink; an' that nogent, onless he's a sky-pilot or possesses scrooples otherwise, hasa right to refoose. Much less has a gent, bein' thus s'licited tolicker, 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' allersspraddlin' in on every chance for an argyment. 'Thar's a party, nowdeceased a whole lot--the Stranblers over in Socorro sort o'chaperones this yere gent to a cottonwood an' excloodes the air fromhis lungs with a lariat for mebby it's an hour-an' this party I'malloodin' 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 invitesaid sacrifice to take a drink. When they're ag'inst the bar, thisyere 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. Ofcourse, 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 suithis tastes. Now I takes it that manners don't insist none on no gentfrontin' up to a bar on the invite of sech felons as Fowler, when adrink that a-way means a speshul short-cut to the tomb. ' "'All thisyere may be troo, ' replies Tutt, 'but it's a exception. What Iinsists is, Texas, that speakin' wide an' free an' not allowin' nonefor sports of the Fowler brand, it's manners to ask strangers tostand in on what beverages is goin'; that it's likewise manners forsaid strangers to accept; an' it shows that both sides concernedtharin is well brought up by their folks. Sech p'liteness ismanners, goin' an' comin', which brings me with graceful swoops backto how Jack Rainey gets shot up. ' "'But, after all, ' breaks in Texasag'in, for he feels wranglesome, 'manners is frequent a question ofwhere you be. What's manners in St. Looey may be bad jedgment inTexas; same as some commoonities plays straights in poker, whilethar'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 inTexas than other places. I recalls how I'm galivantin' 'round in thePanhandle country--it's years ago when I'm young an' recent--an' asI'm ridin' along south of the Canadian one day, I discerns a ponyan' a gent an' a fire', an' what looks like a yearlin' calf tieddown. I knows the pony for Lem Woodruff's cayouse, an' heads over tosay "Howdy" to Lem. He's about half a mile away; when of a sudden hestands up--he's been bendin' over the yearlin' with a runnin' ironin his hand--an' gives a whoop an' makes some copious referencestowards 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; butI keeps ridin' for'ard. It's then this Woodruff steps over to hispony, an' takin' his Winchester off the saddle, cuts down with it inmy direction, an' onhooks her--"Bang!" The bullet raises the dustover about fifty yards to the right. Nacherally I pulls up my ponyto consider this conduct. While I'm settin' thar tryin' to figgerout Woodruff's system, thar goes that Winchester ag'in, an' a streakof dust lifts up, say, fifty yards to the left. I then sees Lemobjects to me. I don't like no gent to go carpin' an' criticisin' atme with a gun; but havin' a Winchester that a-way, this yereWoodruff can overplay me with only a six-shooter, so I quits him an'rides contemptuous away. As I withdraws, he hangs his rifle on hissaddle 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, Is'posed, " he remarked, a bit testily at being halted, "as how evenshorthorns 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-upsoverlooks, an' don't get marked. Of course, when they drifts fromtheir 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' theold cows ain't thar to identify au' endorse 'em, an' thar you standsin ignorance. Them's mavericks. "It all comes, " he continued infurther elucidation of mavericks, "when cattle brands is firstinvented in Texas. The owners, whose cattle is all mixed up on theranges, calls a meetin' to decide on brands, so each gent'll knowhis own when he crosses up with it, an' won't get to burnin' powderwith 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 Maverickaddresses 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 withoutmarkin', an' every gent'll savey said Maverick's cattle because theywon't have no brand. Cattle without brands, that a-way, is to belongto Maverick, that's the scheme, an' as no one sees no reason whynot, they lets old Maverick's proposal go as it lays. 

"An' to cut her short, for obv'ous reasons, it ain't no time beforeMaverick, claimin' all the onbranded cattle, has herds on herds of'em; whereas thar's good authority which states that when he makeshis bluff about not havin' no brand that time, all the cattle oldMaverick has is a triflin' bunch of Mexican steers an' no semblancesof cows in his outfit. From which onpromisin', not to say barren, beginnin', Maverick owns thousands of cattle at the end of tenyears. It all provokes a heap of merriment an' scorn. An' ever sincethat day, onmarked an' onbranded cattle is called 'mavericks. ' Butto go back ag'in to what Jack Moore is remarkin' about this yereoutlaw, Woodruff, who's been bustin' away towards Jack with hisWinchester. 

"'It's a week later, ' goes on Jack Moore, 'when I encounters thissport Woodruff in Howard's store over in Tascosa. I stands him upan' asks whatever he's shootin' me up for that day near the Serritala Cruz. 

"'" Which I never sees you nohow, " replies this yere Woodruff. Laughin'. "I never cuts down on you with no Winchester, for if Idid, 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, Butbein' you're new to the Canadian country an' to Texas, let me giveyou a few p'inters on cow ettyquette an' range manners. Whenever younotes a gent afar off with a fire goin' an' a yearlin' throwed an'hawg-tied ready to mark up a heap with his own privatehieroglyphics, don't you-all go pesterin' 'round him. He ain't goodcompany, sech a gent ain't. Don't go near him. It's ag'in the law inTexas to brand calves lonely an' forlorn that a-way, withoutstoppin' to herd 'em over to some well-known corral, an' thepunishment it threatens, bein' several years in Huntsville, makes agent when he's violatin' it a heap misanthropic, an' he don't hungernone for folks to come ridin' up to see about whatever he reckonshe's at. Mebby later them visitors gets roped up before a co't, orjury, to tell whatever they may know. So, as I says, an' merelystatin' a great trooth in Texas ettyquette, yereafter on beholdin' afellow-bein' with a calf laid out to mark, don't go near him alittle bit. It's manners to turn your back onto him an' ignore himplumb severe. He's a crim'nal, an' any se'f-respectin' gent isjestified in refoosin' to affiliate with him. Wherefore, you rideaway from every outcast you tracks up ag'inst who is engaged likeyou says this onknown party is the day he fetches loose hisWinchester at you over by the Serrita la Cruz. "

"That's what this Woodruff says, " concloodes Jack, windin' up hisinterruption, "about what's manners in Texas; an' when it's madeexplicit that away, I sees the force of his p'sition. Woodruff an'me buys nose-paint for each other, shakes hearty, an' drops thediscussion. But it shorely comes to this: manners, as Texasdeclar's, is sometimes born of geography, an' what goes for polishan' 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 thisquestion 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 witha bottle, an' when every gent has got his p'ison, Dave Tutt proceedsfor'ard with the killin' of this Jack Rainey. ' "'Goin' on as to saidRainey, ' observes Tutt, followin' them remarks of Enright, 'as Iexplains when Texas an' Moore runs me down with them interestin'outbreaks, Rainey gets ag'inst it over in a jimcrow camp calledLido; 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 asplinter or lose a chip to any bar for a week. Them's Jack Rainey'scommands. A sport orders his forty drops, an' the barkeep pricks itonto a tab; at the end of a week Jack Rainey settles all along theline, an' the "saturnalia, " as historians calls 'em, is over. Imight add that Jack Rainey gives way to these yere charities once ayear, an the camp of Lido is plumb used tharto an' approves tharof. 

"'On this sad o'casion when Jack Rainey gets killed, this yoreexcellent custom he invents is in full swing. Thar's notices printedplenty big, an' posted up in every drink-shop from the dance hall tothe 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 firstjestice, 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' itlooks like everybody gets wrought up to frenzy ontil life where themforums is held ain't safe for a second. I shall shorely deplore theday 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 thanplumb loquacious an' locoed to get in a speech, 'that Boggs sizes upright about them triboonals. They'rc a disturbin' element in anycommoonity. I knowed a town in Texas which is that peaceful it'spastoral--that's what it is, it's like a sheep-fold, it's so mcckan' easy--ontil one day they ups an' plays a co't an' jedge an' juryon that camp; rings in a herd of law sharps, an' a passel of rangerswith Winchesters to back the deal. The town's that fretted tharat itgets full of nose-paint to the brim, an' then hops into the streetfor gen'ral practice with its guns. In the mornin' the round-upshows two dead an' five wounded, an' all for openin' co't on anoutfit which is too frail to stand the strain of so much justice tostand onexpected. ' "'As I'm engaged in remarkin', ' says Tutt, afterBoggs an' Texas is redooced to quiet ag'in--Tutt bein' married mostlikely is used to interruptions, an' is shore patient that a-way--'as I states, they're holdin' co't, an' this day they emancipatesfrom prison a party named Caribou Sam. They tries to prove thisCaribou Sam is a hoss-thief, but couldn't fill on the draw, an' soCaribou works free of 'em an' is what they calls "'quitted. "

"'As soon as ever the marshal takes the hobbles off this CaribouSam--he's been held a captif off some'ers an' is packed into Lidoonder gyard to be tried a lot--this yore malefactor comes bulgin'into the Sunflower an' declar's for fire-water. The barkeep deals tohim, an' Caribou Sam is assuaged. 

"'When he goes to pay, a gent who's standin' near shoves back hisdust, an' says: "This is Jack Rainey's week--it's the great annyooalfestival of Jack Rainey, an' your money's no good. "

"'"But I aims to drink some more poco tiempo, " says this CaribouSam, who is new to Lido, an' never yet hears of Jack Rainey an' hislittle game, "an' before I permits a gent to subsidize my thirst, an' go stackin' in for my base appetites, you can gamble I want tomeet him an' make his acquaintance. Where is this yere sport JackRainey, an' whatever is he doin' this on?"

"'The party who shoves Caribou's dinero off the bar, tells him hecan'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 JackRainey has treed the camp, an' no money goes yere but his till hisfurther commands is known. Fill your hide, but don't flourish nofunds, or go enlargin' on any weakness you has for buyin' your ownlicker. As for seein' Jack Rainey, it's plumb impossible. He's gottoo full to visit folks or be visited by 'em; but he's upsta'rs onsome blankets, an' if his reason is restored by tomorry, you sendsup your kyard an' pays him your regyards--pendin' of which socialfunction, take another drink. Barkeep, pump another dose into thisstranger, an' charge the same to Jack. "

"'"This yere sounds good, " says Caribou Sam, "but it don't win overme. Ontil I sees this person Rainey, I shall shorely decline allbottles which is presented in his name. I've had a close call abouta bronco I stole to-day, an' when the jury makes a verdict thatthey're sorry to say the evidence ain't enough to convict, the jedgewarns me to be a heap careful of the company I maintains. He exhortsme to live down my past, or failin' which he'll hang me yet. Withthis bluff from the bench ringin' in my years, I shall refoosedrinks with all onknown sots, ontil I sees for myse'f they's propercharacters for me to be sociable with. Tharfore, barkeep, I renoo mydetermination to pay for them drinks; at the same tune, I ordersanother 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 onyour money. This Rainey you're worried about is as good a gent asme, 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. "Whatyou imparts is scarce encouragin. ' If this yere Rainey ain't noimprovement onto you, I absolootely weakens on him an' turns asidefrom all relations of his proposin'. I'm in mighty bad report as thegame stands, an' I tharfore insists ag'in on payin' for my own warmedicine, as bein' a move necessary to protect my attitoodes beforethe public. "

With thesc yere observations, Caribou Sam makes a bluff at thebarkeep with a handful of money. In remonstratin', Jack Rainey'spard nacherally pulls a gun, as likewise does Caribou Sam. Thar'sthe customary quantity of shootin', an' while neither Caribou norhis foe gets drilled, a bullet goes through the ceilin' an' sort o'sa'nters in a careless, indifferent way into pore Jack Rainey, wherehe's bedded down an' snorin' up above. 

"'Shore, he's dead, Rainey is, ' concloodes Dave, 'an' his ontimelytakin' off makes Lido quit loser for three days of licker free asair. He's a splendid, gen'rous soul, Jack Rainey is; an' as I saysat the beginnin', he falls a sacrifice to his love for others, an'in tryin' at his own expense to promote the happiness an' lift themburdens of his fellow-men. '

"'This yere miscreant, Caribou, ' says Texas Thompson, 'is a mightysight too punctilious about them drinks; which thar's no doubt ofit. Do they lynch him?'

"'No, ' says Tutt; 'from the calibre of the gun which fires the leadthat snatches Rainey from us, it is cl'ar that it's the gent who'scontendin' with Caribou who does it, Still public opinion is somesour over losin' them three days, an' so Caribou goes lopin' out ofLido surreptitious that same evenin', an' don't wait none onRainey's obsequies. Caribou merely sends regrets by the barkeep ofthe Sunflower, reiterates the right to pay for them drink, an' Lidosees him no more. '"

CHAPTER XV. 

The Defiance of Gene Watkins. 

"Be I religious that a-way?" More to embark him on some current ofconversation 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 oldpipe to-night. Be I religious? says you. Well, I ain't shorelylivin' in what you'd call 'grace, ' still I has my beliefs. Back inTennessee my folks is Methodis', held to sprinklin' an' sech;however, for myse'f, I never banks none on them technicalities. It'sdeeds that counts with Omnipotence, same as with a vig'lancecommittee; an', whether a gent is sprinkled or dipped or is asaverse to water as Huggins or Old Monte, won't settle whether hewins out a harp or a hot pitchfork in the eternal beyond. 

"No, I ain't a believer in that enthoosiastic sense that fights itsway to the mourner's bench an' manifests itse'f with groans thatdaunts hoot-owls into silence. Thar don't appear many preachers outWest in my day. Now an' then one of these yere divines, who's gotstrayed or drifted from his proper range, comes buttin' his way intoWolfville an' puts us up a sermon, or a talkee-talkee. In sechevents we allers listens respcetful, an' when the contreebution boxshows down, we stakes 'em on their windin' way; but it's all as muchfor the name of the camp as any belief in them ministrations doin'local good. Shore! these yere sky-scouts is all right at that. ButWolfville's a hard, practical outfit, what you might call a heapobdurate, an' it's goin' to take more than them fitful an'o'casional sermons I alloodes to, a hour long an' more'n threemonths apart on a av'rage, to reach the roots of its soul. When Ilooks back on Peets an' Enright, an' Boggs an' Tutt, an' TexasThompson an' Moore, an' Cherokee, to say nothin' of Colonel Sterett, an' recalls their nacheral obstinacy, an' the cheerful conceitwherewith they adheres to their systems of existence, I realizesthat them ordinary, every-day pulpit utterances of the sort thatsaves an' satisfies the East, would have about as much ser'ouseffect on them cimmaron pards of mine as throwin' water on a drownedrat. 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 Ionderstands them aforetime comrades of mine, an' saveys an' esteemstheir ways, why, I reckons I'll string my game with theirs a wholelot, an' get in or get barred with Wolfville. 

"No; I've no notion at all ag'inst a gospel spreader. When ShortCreek Dave gets religion over in Tucson, an' descends on us as aexhorter, although I only knows Short Creek thartofore as thecoldest poker sharp that ever catches a gent Muffin' on a 4-flush, Ihesitates not, but encourages an' caps his game. But I can't saythat the sight of a preacher-gent affords me peace. A preacher fretsme; not for himse'f exactly, but you never sees preachers withoutseein' p'lice folks--preachers an' p'lice go hand in hand, likeprairie dogs an' rattlesnakes--an' born as I be in Tennessee, wherewe has our feuds an' where law is a interference an' never aprotection, I'm nacherally loathin' constables complete. 

"But if I ain't religious, " he rambled on while he puffed at hisBull Durham vigorously. "you can resk a small stack that neither Iain't sooperstitious. Take Boggs an' Cherokee, you-all recalls howlong ago I tells you how sooperstitious them two is. Speakin' ofBoggs, who's as good a gent an' as troo a friend as ever touchesyour glass; he's sooperstitious from his wrought-steel spurs to hisbullion hatband. Boggs has more signs an' omens than some folks hasmoney; everything is a tip or a hunch to Boggs; an' he livessurrounded by inflooences. 

"Thar's a peaked old sport named Ryder pervades Wolfville for awhile. He's surly an' gnurlly an' omeny, Ryder is; an' has one ofthem awful lookin' faces where the feachers is all c'llected in themiddle of his visage, an' bunched up like they's afraid of Injuns orsomethin' else that threatenin' an' hostile--them sort ofcountenances you notes carved on the far ends of fiddles. We-all isaverse to Ryder. An' this yere Ryder himsc'f is that contentious an'contradictory he won't agree to nothin'. Jest to show you aboutRyder: I has in mind once when a passel of us is lookin' at a paperthat's come floatin' in from the States. Thar's the picture of acow-puncher into it who's a dead ringer for Dave Tutt. From y'earsto hocks that picture is Tutt; an' thar we-all be admirin' thelikeness an' takin' our licker conjunctive. While thus spec'latin'on then resemblances, this yere sour old maverick, Ryder, shows upat the bar for nourishment. 

"'Don't tell Ryder about how this yere deelineation looks likeTutt, ' 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 oldt'rant'ler's nose as he sets down his glass, 'whoever does thispicture 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 beenrefoosed the beverage; 'no, it don't put me in mind of nothin' nornobody. One thing shore, an' you-all hold-ups can rope onto that fora fact, it don't remind me none of Dave Tutt. '

"Which Boggs, who, as I says, is allers herdin' ghosts, issooperstitious about old Ryder. That's straight; Boggs won't putdown 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 ofthem 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 Boggswould 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 everit's this horror of Boggs which prevails on him to shift hisblankets to Red Dog---the same bein' a low-down plaza inhabited bydrunkards an' Mexicans, in proportions about a even break of each, an' which assoomes in its delirium treecnors way to be a rival ofWolfville. 

"'Which I'm a public benefactor, ' says Boggs, when he's informedthat he's done froze this Ryder out of camp, 'an' if you sportsa'preciates me at my troo valyoo, you-all would proffer me some sechmemento inebby as a silver tea-set. Me makin' this Ryder vamos isthe greatest public improvement Wolfville's experienced since thelynchin' of Far Creek Stanton. You-all ain't s'fficiently on thequee vee, as they says in French, to be aware of the m'lignantatmospheres 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' attacheshimse'f to our enemies. I'll bet a pinto hoss that somethin' happensto them Red Dog tarrapins inside of a week. '

"An', son, while said riotous prophecies of Boggs don't impress me alittle bit, I'm bound to admit that the second night followin' theheegira 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 aweek of Red Dog gayety, sets fire to the sityooation while shootin'out the dance-hall lamps, an' burns up half Red Dog, with the dancehall an' the only two s'loons in the outfit; tharby incloodin' everydrop of whiskey in the holycaust. It was awful! Which, of coarse, wecomes 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 Doglips till its freighters brings relief from Tucson. "All the same, while as I assures you thar's nothin' sooperstitious about me, Ican't he'p, when Red Dog burns that a-way, but think of them bluffsof Boggs about this yere old Ryder party bein' a hoodoo. Shore! itconfirms 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 hisomens--an' thar's a lot from time to time, because Boggs is plumbreedic'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 toRed 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 yeretoforein that Wolfville book you've done printed, so common an' practicalevery gent must yield to'em. Thar's places where mere sooper. Stition gets up from the table, an' mule-sense takes its seat. If Imeets a gent evolvin' outcries of glee, an' walkin' on both sides ofthe street, an' most likely emptyin' a Colt's pistol at thefirmament, an' all without obv'ous cause, I dedooces the presence inthat gent's interior of a lib'ral freight of nose-paint. If, as I'mproceedin' about my destinies, I hears the voice of a gun, I arguesthe existence of a weepon in my vicinity. If the lead tharfrom cutsmy saddle-horn, or creases my pony, or plugs a double hole in mysombrero, or some sech little play, I dies to a theery that theknight errant who's back of the racket means me, onlimbers my fieldpiece, an' enters into the sperit of the eepisode. Which I gives youthis in almost them very words before. Still, signs an' omens inwhat Doc Peets would term their 'occultisms, ' I passes up. Iwouldn't live in them apprehensions that beleaguers Boggs for a fullherd of three-year-olds. "Which I'll never forget them eloocidationsberight onfolds on Boggs one evenin' about the mournin' an' thehowlin' of some hound-dogs that's been sendin' thrills throughBoggs. 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' lastevenin'?' 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 deloosionsspreads, an' the first news you gets, Wolfville's holdin' table-tippin's an' is goin' all spraddled out on seances an' sim'larimbecilities, same as them sperit-rappin' hold-ups one encounters inthe East. In sech event, Red Dog's doo to deem us locoed, an' couldtreat us with jestified disdain. Enright don't aim to allowWolfville's good repoote to bog down to any sech extent, nonewhatever; an' so stand's in to protect both the camp an' pore Boggshimse'f from Boggs' weird an' ranikaboo idees. So Enright saysag'in: 'Shore! I hears 'em. An' what of it? Can't you-all let a porepup howl, when his heart is low an' his destinies most likely hasgot tangled in their rope?'

"'jest the same, ' says Boggs, 'them outcries of theirs makes me feela heap ambiguous. I'm drawin' kyards to a pa'r of fours that firsthowl they emits, an' I smells bad luck an' thinks to myse'f, "Here'swhere you get killed too dead to skin!" But as I takes in threeaces, an' as the harvest tharof is crowdin' hard towards two hundreddollars, I concloodes, final, them dogs don't have me on their mindafter all; an' so I'm appeased a whole lot. Still, I'm cur'ous toknow whatever they're howlin' about anyhow. '

"'Which you're too conceited, Boggs, ' says Tutt, cuttin' in on thepowwow. 'You-all is allers thinkin' everythin' means you. Now, Ihears them dogs howlin', an' havin' beheld the spectacle theyperforms in, I sort o' allows they're sorrowin' over theirdisgraceful employment--sort o' 'shamed of their game. An' well themdogs might be bowed in sperit! for a more mendacious an' lyin'meelodramy than said "Uncle Tom's Cabin, " I never yet pays fourwhite chips to see; an' I'm from Illinoy, an' was a Abe Lincoln manan' a rank black ab'litionist besides. '

"'Seein' I once owns a couple of hundred Guineas, ' says Enright, 'myfeelin's ag'in slavery never mounts so high as Tutt's; but as foreloocidatin' 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 smellssomethin' he can't locate; an' nacherally he's agitated tharby. Nowyereafter, never let your imagination pull its picket-pin that a-way, an' go to cavortin' 'round permiscus--don't go romancin' off onany of them ghost round-ups you're addicted to. Thar's the wholegroosome myst'ry laid b'ar; them pups merely smells things theycan't locate, an' it frets 'em. '

"'None the less, ' remarks Cherokee Hall, 'while I reckons Enrightgives 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 heaplike Boggs about signs. Mebby, as I says prior, it's because I'm akyard sharp an' allers faces my footure over a faro layout. Anyhow, signs an' omens presses on me. For one thing, I'm sooperstitiousabout makin' of onyoosal arrangements to protect my play. I neveryet 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 hiscoffin, 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 youor out-plays you whenever it's so inclined; an' it seems allers soinclined, Destiny does, jest as you're flatterin' yourse'f you'vegot a shore thing. A gent's bound to play fa'r with Destiny; he canput a bet down on that. You can't hold six kyards; you can't dealdouble; you can't play no cold hands; you can't bluff Destiny. Allyou-all can do is humbly an' meekly pick up the five kyards thatbelongs to you, an' in a sperit of thankfulness an' praise, an'frankly admittin' that you're lucky to be allowed to play at all, doyour 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, ' saysPeets; '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 onbosommyse'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' valyooof a pa'r of fives. But I'm plenty impressed by them events I'mabout to recount, an' the mem'ry is fresh enough for yesterday. Butto 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 tharabout 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, whichnever fails to freeze to all the coin he changes in. That's thepalin' 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 soshorely as he finds a faro-bank, jest so shorely he sets in ag'instit, an' jest so shorely he ain't got a tail-feather left when hequits. 

"'The races is over for the season. It's the first snow of winter onthe ground, when our sport comes trailin' in to make his annyooalcamp. He's about six thousand dollars strong; for, as I states, hepicks bosses right. An' he's been thinkin', too; this yere sport I'mrelatin' of. He's been roominatin' the baleful effects of faro-bankin his speshul case. He knows it's no use him sayin' he wont buckthe game. This person's made them vows before. An' they holds himabout like cobwebs holds a cow--lasts about as long as a drink ofwhiskey. 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 goto transactin' faro-bank. An', as a high-steppin' patriot once says, "jedgin' of the footure by the past, " our sport's goin' to beskinned alive--chewed up--compared to him a Digger Injun will loomup in the matter of finance like a Steve Girard. An' he knows it. Wherefore this yere crafty sharp starts in to cinch a play; startsin to defy fate, an' rope up an' brand the footure, for at least sixmonths to come. An', jest as I argues, Destiny accepts the challengeof this vainglorious sharp; acccepts it with a grin. Yere's what hedoes, an' yere's what comes to pass. "'Our wise, forethoughtfulsport seeks out the robber who keeps the tavern. "The ponies will beback in May, " says he, "an' I'm perishin' of cur'osity to know howmuch money you demands to feed an' sleep me till then. " The tavernman names the bundle, an' the thoughtful sport makes good. Then hestiffens the barkeep for about ten drinks a day ontil the advent ofthem ponies. Followin' which, he searches out a tailor shop an'accoomulates a libh'ral trousseau, an' has it packed down to thetavern an' filed away in his rooms. "Thar!" he says; "which Ireckons now I'm strong enough to go the distance. Not even a bracegame of faro-bank, nor yet any sim'lar dead-fall, prevails ag'instme. I flatters myse'f; for onct in a way, I've organized mydestinies so that, for six months at least, they've done got to runtroo. " "'It's after supper; our sport, who's been so busy all daytreein' the chances an' runnin' of 'em out on a limb, is loafin'about the bar. O'casionally he congratulates himse'f on havin' along head like a mule; then ag'in he oneasily reverts to the farogame that's tossin' an' heavin' with all sorts o' good an' bad luckjest across the street. 

"'At first he's plumb inflex'ble that a-way, an' is goin' to denyhimse'f to faro-bank. He waxes quite heroic about it, our sportdoes; a condition of sperits, by the way, I've allers noticed isprone to immejetly precede complete c'llapse. 

"'These yere reform thoughts of our sport consoomes a hour. Aboutthat time, however, he engages himse'f with the fifth drink of nose-paint. Tharupon faro-bank takes on a different tint. His attitoodetowards that amoosement becomes enlarged; at least he decides he'llprance over some an' take a fall out of it for, say, a hundred or soeither way, merely to see if his luck's as black as former. An' overcapers our sport. 

"'It's the same old song by the same old mockin'-bird. At seconddrink 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'the'p exultin' on how plumb cunnin' he's been. "I don't say this inany 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 wolflike you-all, who's as remorseless as he's game, but I foresees thisracket 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, ispowerless to put a crimp in them calc'lations. I've got the next sixmonths pris'ner; I've turned the keys onto 'em same as if they're ina calaboose. An' no power can rescoo 'em none; an' they can't breakjail. "

"'An' jest to show you-all, ' continyoos Cherokee, after pausin' totip the bottle for a spoonful, as well as let the sityooation sorto' trickle into us in all its outlines--Cherokee is plenty graphicthat a-way, an' knows how to frame up them recitals so they takeseffect--'an' jest to show you, as I remarks former, that every gentis bound to take a gambler's chance an' that shore-things don'texist, let me ask you what happens? Our confident sport ain't hardlygot that bluff humg up before--"Inglegojang! inglegojang!" goes thechurch bell in alarm; the tavern's took fire an' burns plumb to theground; drinks, chuck, bed, raiment, the whole bunch of tricks; an'thar's our wise sport out in the snow an' nothin' but a black ruckof smokin' ruins to remind him of that cinch of his. 

"'It's a lesson to him, though. As he stands thar meditatin' on theexpectedness of the unexpected, he observes to himse'f, "Providence, if so minded, can beat a royal flush; an' any gent holdin' contraryviews 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'slookin' at you!' an' Thompson raises his glass. 

"'I catches your eye, ' says Cherokee, a heap pleased, as he p'litelycaroms his glass ag'in Thompson's. 

"'But Cherokee, ' whispers Faro Nell, from where she's clost by hisside, 'if thar's somethin' I desires a whole lot, an' is doin' mylevel best to deserve an' keep it all my life, do you-all reckon nowthat Providence ups an' throws me down?'

"'Not you, Nell, ' says Cherokee, as he smiles on Faro Nell, an' kindo' surreptitious pats her har; 'not you. Providence guides your gamean' guarantees it. I'm only discussin' of men. It's one of the bestthings about both Providence an' woman, an' to the credit of allconcerned, that they allers agrees--allers goes hand in hand. '

"'An' that last utterance is a fact, ' observes Dave Tutt, who's beeninterested deep. 'When I first weds Tucson Jennie that time, Idoubts 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 ofeternal trooth; the full partner of Providence, a-holdin' down thepost of lookout; an' that when she sets forth things, them things isdecreed 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, "ormebby Frootes an' Flowers; but I don't know! I figgers this yereBull Durham's got more force of char'cter. "

Then came more silence. But the night was young; I was disposed tohear further of Wolfville and its worthy citizens. My readiestmethod 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; orthat a challenge, direct or otherwise, to the Powers Above, isliable 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 mybreast. 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 agun; an', as more than one scoffer finds out, she don't go heeledfor fun. Thar's that Gene Watkins, who gets killed by lightnin' overby the Eagle Claw that time; downed for blasphemin', he is. "

"Let me hear about this Watkins, " I urged; "no one is moreinterested in the doings of Providence than I. "

"Which from what little I notes of you, " he observed, regarding mewith a glance of dubious, sour suspicion, "you-all shore ought tobe. An' I'll tell you one thing: If Providence ever gets wearied ofthe way you acts--an' it ain't none onlikely--you might as well setin your chips an' quit. 

"But as to this yere Watkins: I don't know about the wisdom ofburdenin' you with Watkins. It's gettin' plenty late, an' I'm somefatigued myse'f; I must be organizin' to bed myse'f down a lot forthe night. I ain't so cap'ble of sleeplessness as I am 'way backyonder 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 letyou have it. This yere ain't a story exackly; it's more like aaneckdote; but it allers strikes me as sheddin' a ray on themspeshul Providences. 

"This Watkins is a mere yooth; he jumps into Wolfville from theTexas Panhandle, where, it's rumored, he's been over free with agun. However, that don't bother us a bit. Arizona conducts herse'fon the principle of everybody ridin' his own sign-camps, an' sheain't roundin' up escaped felons for no commoonity but herse'f. 

"The first time I sees this Watkins party is one evenin' when hesa'nters down the middle aisle of the Bird Cage Op'ry House, withhis lariat in his hands, an' tosses the loop over a lady who's jestthen 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 themmelodies. It's more than discouragin', it's scand'lous. The loop isa bit big, an' falls cl'ar down an' fastens to this cantatrice bythe fetlocks. An' then this locoed Watkins turns loose to pull herover the footlights. Which the worst is, havin' her by the heels, an' she settin' down that a-way, he pulls that lady over thefootlights the wrong way. 

"It's at this epock, Jack Moore, who in his capac'ty of marshal isdomineerin' about down in front, whacks Watkins over the head withhis six-shooter, an' the lady's saved. 

"'What be you-all tryin' to do with this diva?' demands Moore of theWatkins party. 

"'Which I'm enamored of her, ' says this yere Watkins, 'an' thar's aheap of things I was aimin' to pour into her years. But now you'vedone pounded me on top with that gun, they all gets jolted out of mymind. '

"'Jest the same, ' says Moore, 'if I was you, I'd take the saddle offmy emotions, an' hobble 'em out to rest some. Meanwhile I'd think upa new system. You-all lacks reticence; also you're a heap too muchdisposed to keep yourse'f in the public eye. I don't know how it isin Texas, but yere in Arizona a gent who gets too cel'brated getsshot. Also, I might add in concloosion that your Panhandle notionsof a good way to get confidenshul with a lady don't obtain noneyere--they don't go. An' so I warns you, never express your feelin'swith a lariat in this theayter no more. Wolfville yields leeniencyto 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' therange, pickin' up what calves misses the spring brandin'--an' we'rebringin' along mebby three hundred cows an' half-grown calves, an'headin' for the bar-B-eight--that's Enright's brand--corral to markthe 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 thecook, tryin' to hold the bunch. It's flash on flash of lightnin';an' thunder followin' on the heels of thunder-clap. As we-all iscirklin' the little herd, an' singin' to 'em to restore their reasonwith sounds they saveys, thar comes a most inord'nate flash oflightnin', an' a crash of thunder like a mountain fallin'; it sorto' stands us up on our hocks. It makes the pore cattle bat theireyes, an' almost knocks their horns off. 

"Thar's a moment of silence followin'; an' then this yere ontamedWatkins, tossin' his hand at the sky, shouts out:

"'Blaze away! my gray-head creator! You-all has been shootin' at mefor 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 offalong 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'slaughin' at Boggs, deemin' his terrors that a-way as reedic'lous. Ashe does, a streak of white fire comes down, straight as a blazin'arrer, an' with it sech a whirl of thunder, which I thought theearth 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 hisspurs is melted. Right in the middle of his leather hat-band, whereit 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 wegathers 'round, how Boggs picks up the hat. It's stopped rainin' ofa sudden, an' the stars is showin' two or three, where the clouds ispartin' away. Boggs stands thar lookin' first at the sky, an' thenat the hat where the hole is. Then he shakes his head. 'She's a longshot, 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, wasfound serene and balmy enough. As I climbed the steps after myafternoon canter, I encountered the Old Cattleman. He was re-locating one of the big veranda chairs more to his comfort, and thebetter to enjoy his tobacco. He gave me a glance as I came up. 

"Them's mighty puny spurs, " he observed with an eye of halfcommiseration, half disdain; "them's shore reedic'lous. Which they'ddestroy your standin' with a cow pony, utter. He'd fill up withcontempt 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, themrowels had. Then a gent might hope for action. An' whyever don'tyou-all wear leather chapps that a-way, instead of them jimcrowboots an' trousers? They're plumb amoosin', them garments be. No, Ionderstands; you don't go chargin' about in the bresh an' don't needchapps, but still you oughter don 'em for the looks. Thar's a wrongan' a right way to do; an' chapps is right. Thar's Johnny Cook ofthe Turkey Track; he's like you; he contemns chapps. Johnny chargesinto a wire fence one midnight, sort o' sidles into said boundaryfull surge; after that Johnny wears chapps all right. Does it hurthim? Son, them wires t'ars enough hide off Johnny, from some'ersabout the hock, to make a saddle cover, an' he loses bloodsufficient to paint a house. He comes mighty near goin' shy a laigon the deal. It's a lesson on c'rrect costumes that Johnny don'tsoon forget. 

"No, I never rides a hoss none now. These yere Eastern saddles ain'tthe right model. Which they's a heap too low in the cantle an' toolow in the horn. An' them stirrup leathers is too short, an' twoinches too far for'ard. I never does grade over-high for ridin' ahoss, 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' asDoc Peets calls'em. I gets along without buckin' straps, an' myfriends 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. Texastakes his rope an' ties down a bronco; one the record whereof isthat he's that toomultuous no one can ride him. Most gents wouldhave ducked at the name of this yere steed, the same bein''Dynamite. ' But Texas makes the bet I mentions, an' lays for thisonrooly cayouse with all the confidence of virgin gold that a-way. 

"Texas ropes an' ties him down an' cinches the saddle onto him whilehe's layin' thar; Tutt kneelin' on his locoed head doorin' theceremony. Then Tutt throws him loose; an' when he gets up henacherally rises with Texas Thompson on his back. 

"First, that bronco stands in a daze, an' Texas takes advantage ofhis trance to lay two silver dollars on the saddle, one onder eachof his laigs. An' final, you should shorely have beheld that broncoput his nose between his laigs an' arch himse'f an' buck! Reg'larworm-fence buckin' it is; an' when he ain't hittin' the ground, he'sshore abundant in that atmosphere a lot. 

"In the midst of these yere flights, which the same is enough tostim'late the imagination of a Apache, Texas, as ca'm an' onmoved asthe Spanish Peaks, rolls an' lights a cigarette. Then he picks upthe bridle an' gives that roysterin' bronco jest enough of theMexican bit to fill his mouth with blood an' his mind with doubts, an' stops him. When Texas swings to the ground, them two silverdollars comes jinglin' along; which he holds 'em to the saddle thata-way throughout them exercises. It's them dollars an' the cigarettethat 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 reminiscentcompanion, and relishing the restful ease after a twenty-mile run, decided to prolong the talk. Feeling for subjects, I becametentatively curious concerning politics. 

"Cow people, " said my friend, "never saveys pol'tics. I wouldn'tgive a Mexican sheep--which is the thing of lowest valyoo I knows ofexcept Mexicans themse'fs--or the views of any cow-puncher on themquestions of state. You can gamble an' make the roof the limit, themopinions, when you-all once gets 'em rounded up, would be shoreloodicrous, not to say footile. 

"Now, we-all wolves of Wolfville used to let Colonel Sterett do ourpolit'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 Texassubdoos that bronco, an' lets the whey outen Jack Moore to theextent of said jug of Valley Tan, that Colonel Sterett goes off at around road-gait on this yere very topic of pol'tics, an' winds up bytellin' us of his attitood, personal, doorin' the civil war, an' thedebt 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 aeditor, 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 formyse'f, aside from my vocations of them tripods, pol'tics is inbornin 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 ashootin' match in old Kaintucky. Yes, sir, ' says the Colonel, anthar's a pensive look in his eyes like he's countin' up thatancestor's merits in his mem'ry; 'pol'tics with me that-away isshore 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 tieit down an' brand it into my bunch right yere. '

"'My grandfather, ' goes on the Colonel, 'is a Jackson man; from thetop of the deck plumb down to the hock kyard, he's nothin' butJackson. This yere attitood of my grandsire, an' him camped in theswarmin' midst of a Henry Clay country, is frootful of adventuresan' 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' downthe river in one of them little old steamboats of that day, an' theboat is shore crowded. My grandfather has to sleep on the floor, asany more in the bunks would mean a struggle for life an' death. Thar's plenty of bunkless gents, however, besides him, an' as hesinks into them sound an' dreamless slumbers which is the her'tageof folks whose consciences run trop, he hears 'em drinkin' an'talkin' an' barterin' mendacity, an' argyfyin' pol'tics on allsides. 

"'My grandfather sleeps on for hours, an' is only aroused from themtorpors, final, by some sport chunkin' him a thump in the back. Theold lion is sleepin' on his face, that a-way, an' when he getsmauled 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 onlygot 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. Thissport is swingin' the ace for the opp'site party's jack, an' heboards his kyard with that enthoosiasm it comes mighty clost todislocatin' my old gent's shoulder. But he's the last Kaintuckian togo interfcrin' with the reecreations of others, so he lays tharstill an' prone till the hand's played out. 

"'"High, jack, game!" says the stranger, countin' up; "that puts meout an' one over for lannyap. "

"'This yere seven-up gent turns out to be Gen'ral Jackson, an' himan' my grandfather camps down in a corner, drinks up the quart ofCincinnati Rectified which is the stakes, an' becomes mootuallyacquainted. An', gents, I says it with pride, the hero of the Hoss-shoe, an' the walloper of them English at New Orleans takes to mygrandfather like a honeysuckle to a front porch. 

"'My grandfather comes plenty near forfeitin' then good opinions ofthe Gen'ral, though. It's the next day, an' that ancestor of minean' the Gen'ral is recoverin' themse'fs from the conversation of thenight before with a glass or two of tanzy bitters, when a lady, whodescends on the boat at Madison, comes bulgin' into the gents'cabin. The captain an' two or three of the boat's folks tries toherd her into the women's cabin; but she withers 'em with a look, breshes 'em aside, an' stampedes along in among the men-people likeI explains. About forty of 'em's smokin'; an' as tobacco is afav'rite weakness of the tribe of Sterett, my grandfather is smokin'too. 

"'"I wants you-all to make these yere miscreants stop smokin', " saysthe lady to the captain, who follows along thinkin' mebby he getsher 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 myrights. Make these barb'rous miscreants stop smokin', or I leavesthe 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 ofthem bald hornet's nests on a beech limb. Nacherally mygrandfather's gaze gets riveted on this lady a whole lot, his pipehangin' forgetful from his lips. The lady's eyes all at once comesdown on my grandfather, partic'lar an' personal, like a milk-crockfrom a high shelf. 

"'"An' I means you speshul, " says the lady, p'intin' the finger ofscorn at my grandfather. "The idee of you standin' thar smokin' inmy very face, an' me a totterin' invalid. It shorely shows you ain'tnothin' 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 mygrandfather; for them epithets spurs him on the raw, an' he forgetshe's a gent, that a-way, an' lets fly this yere retort before he cangive himse'f the curb. 

"'The moment my grandfather makes them observations, the ladycatches her face--which as I tells you is a cross between a gridironan' a steel trap--with both her hands, shakes her ha'r down herback, 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 apassenger, turnin' on my grandfather like a crate of wildcats. "Which I'm the Roarin' Wolverine of Smoky Bottoms, an' I waits for areply. "

"'My grandfather is standin' thar some confoosed an' wrought up, an'as warm as a wolf, thinkin' how ornery he's been by gettin' acridwith that lady. The way he feels, this yere Roarin' Wolverine partycomes 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 grandfatherdrinks a toddy an' compares notes, while a jack-laig doctor who'saboard sews the Roarin' Wolverine's y'ear back on, that he thinks atthe time it's the boat blowin' up. 

"'"She's shore the vividest skrimmage I ever partic'pates in, " saysthe Roarin' Wolverine; "an' the busiest. I wouldn't have missed itfor a small clay farm. "

"'But Gen'ral Jackson when he comes back from offerin' condolencesto the lady, looks dignified an' shakes his head a heap grave. 

"'"Them contoomelious remarks to the lady, " he says to mygrandfather, "lowers you in my esteem a lot. An' while the way youbreaks up that settee with the Roarin' Wolverine goes some towardsreestablishin' you, still I shall not look on you as the gent Itakes 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 ashore-enough gent an' a son of chivalry; an' with that the riotwinds 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 saythat I regyards this as a very pretty narratif, an' requests thedrinks onct to the Colonel's grandfather. ' We drinks accordin', an'the Colonel resoomes. 

"'My grandfather comes back from this yere expedition down the Ohioa most voylent Jackson man. An' he's troo to his faith as a adherentto Jackson through times when the Clay folks gets that intemp'ratethey hunts 'em with dogs. The old gent was wont, as I su'gests, toregale my childish y'ears with the story of what he suffers, Hetells how he goes pirootin' off among the farmers in the backcounties; sleepin' on husk beds, till the bed-ropes cuts plumbthrough an' marks out a checker-board on his frame that would stayfor months. Once he's sleepin' in a loft, an' all of a sudden aboutdaybreak 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 toclaw 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 crawlhis hump for shore. But she's a false alarm. It's only a Dom'nickrooster who's been perched all night on my grandfather's wrist wherehis arm sticks outen bed, an' who's done crowed a whole lot, as ishis habit when he glints the comin' day. It's them sort o' thingsthat sends a shudder through you, an' shows what that old patriotsuffers for his faith. 

"'But my grandfather keeps on prevailin' along in them views ontilhe jest conquers his county an' carries her for Jackson. Shore! hehas trouble at the polls, an' trouble in the conventions. But hepersists; an' he's that domineerin' an' dogmatic they at last notonly gives him his way, but comes rackin' along with him. In thelast convention, he nacherally herds things into a corner, an'thar's only forty votes ag'in him at the finish. My grandfatherallers says when relatin' of it to me long afterwards:

"'"An' grandson Willyum, five gallons more of rum would have madethat convention yoonanimous. 

"'But what he'ps the old gent most towards the last, is a j'intdebate he has with Spence Witherspoon, which begins withreecrim'nations an' winds up with the guns. Also, it leaves thisyere aggravatin' Witherspoon less a whole lot. 

"'"Wasn't you-all for nullification, an' ain't you now for Jacksonan' the union?" asks this yere insultin' Witherspoon. "Didn't youmake a Calhoun speech over on Mink Run two years ago, an' ain't youat this barbecue, to-day, consoomin' burgoo an' shoutin' for OldHickory?"

"'"What you-all states is troo, " says my grandfather. "But my partyturns, an' I turns with it. You-all can't lose Jack Sterett. He canturn 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 givesBill Hatfield, the blacksmith, that Berkshire suckin' pig. '"An' whatever is that story?" asks my grandfather, beginnin' toloosen his bowie-knife in its sheath. 

"'"Take your paws off that old butcher of your'n, " returns thispesterin' Witherspoon, "an' I'll tell the story. But you've got toquit 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 mygrandfather, "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 thestory 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 basketon his arm, an' Dick lines out for Jedge Chinn's for to fetch awaythat little hawg. Dick puts him in the basket, climbs onto his mule, an' goes teeterin' out for home. On the way back, Dick stops atHickman's tavern. While he's pourin' in a gill of corn jooce, a wagwho's present subtracts the pig an' puts in one of old Hickman'sblack 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 Chinnan' 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 ofdog on his arm, an' goes p'intin' for Jedge Chinn. Nacherally, Dickstops at Hickman's tavern so as to mollify his feelin's with thatred-eye. This yere wag gets in ag'in on the play, subtracts the pupan' restores the little hawg a whole lot. When Dick gets to JedgeChinn, he onfolds to the Jedge touchin' them transformations frompig to pup. 'Pshaw!' says the Jedge, who's one of them pos'tivesharps that no ghost tales is goin' to shake; 'pshaw! BillHatfield's gettin' to be a loonatic. I tells him the last time I hasmy hoss shod that if he keeps on pourin' down that Hickman whiskey, he'll shorely die, an' begin by dyin' at the top. These yereilloosions of his shows I drives the center. ' Then the Jedgeoncovers the basket an' turns out the little hawg. When nigger Dicksees 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'sconjured, 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' aincriminatin' gesture so's to incloode my grandfather that a-way;"when I reflects on this onblushin' turncoat, Jack Sterett, as Istates prior, it makes me think of how Jedge Chinn lavishes thatBerkshire shoat on blacksmith Bill Hatfield. Confessin' thataforetime he's a nullification pig on Mink Run, he sets yere at thisbarbecue 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 grandfatherends, an' he pulls his bowie-knife an' chases this Witherspoon fromthe rostrum. He'd had his detractor's skelp right thar, but thecha'rman an' other leadin' sperits interferes, an' insists on themresentments of my grandfather's findin' the usual channel in theirexpression. Witherspoon, who's got on a new blanket coat, allows hewon'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 theirweepons, the two vice pres'dents, who's goin' to act as seconds--thepres'dent by mootual consent dealin' the game as referee--rummagesabout air' borrys a brace of Looeyville rifles from members of theBlack B'ar Glee Club--they're the barytone an' tenor--an' mygrandfather 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 anywherebetween the words 'Fire' an' 'Stop'. My partin' injunctions is, 'Mayheaven defend the right, ' an' be shore an' see your hindsights asyou onhooks your guns. "

"'At the word, my grandfather an' Witherspoon responds prompt an'gay. Witherspoon overshoots, while my grandfather plants his lead inamong Witherspoon's idees, an' that racontoor quits Kaintucky forthe 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 counthis spoons when he next comes sneakin' home from Washin'ton, he'llfind he's short Spence Witherspoon. "'

"'Your grandfather's a troo humorist, ' says Texas Thompson, asColonel 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 ontothe joke in its completeness, the merriment is wide an yooniversal. It's the hit of the barbecue; an' in this way, little by little, mygrandfather wins his neighbors to his beliefs, ontil he's got thecommoonity all stretched an' hawgtied, an' brands her triumphant forGen'ral Jackson. '

"'An' does your own pap follow in the footprints of his old gent, asa convincin' an' determined statesman that a-way?' asks Doc Peets. 

'No, ' says Colonel Sterett, 'my own personal parent simmers down awhole lot compared to my grandfather. He don't take his pol'tics somuch 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 otherday, is when he insists on bein' nootral doorin' the late war. Iexplains 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. Mybrother Jeff--an' I never beholds a haughtier sperit-goessquanderin' off with Morgan at the first boogle call, ' "'That raidof Morgan's, ' says Enright, his eye brightenin', 'is plumb full ofdash an' fire. ' "'Shore, ' says the Colonel, 'plumb full of dash an'fire. But Jeff tells me of it later, foot by foot, from the timethey 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 achicken-stealin' expedition also. Jeff says he never sees so manyfolks 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 upontil Jeff an' Morgan all' their gallant comrades is ag'in safe inthe 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 tochoke a cow to give 'em as a ransom; but Jeff an' Morgan never dohear of it for years. They goes by so plumb swift they don't getnotice; an' they fades away in the distance so fast they keeps aheadof the news. However, they gets back to Kaintucky safe an' coveredwith dust an' glory in even parts; an' as for Jeff speshul, as theharvest of his valor, he reports himse'f the owner of a one-sixthinterest in a sleigh which him an' five of his indomitablecompanions has done drug across the river on their return. But theydon't linger over this trophy; dooty calls 'em, so they stores thesleigh in a barn an' rides away to further honors. 

"'We never do hear of Jeff none all through that war but once. Afterhe's j'ined Stonewall Jackson, I recalls how he sends home sixhundred dollars in confed'rate money with a letter to my father. Itruns like this:

 In camp with Stonewall Jackson. Respected Sir:

The slave who bears this will give you from me a treasure of sixhundred dollars. I desire that you pay the tavern and whatevercreditors of mine you find. To owe debts does not comport with thehonor of a cavalier, and I propose to silence all base clamors onthat head. I remain, most venerated sir, Yours to command, Jefferson Sterett. 

"'That's the last we-all hears of my sens'tive an' high-speritedbrother ontil after Mister Lee surrenders. It's one mornin' whenJeff comes home, an' the manner of his return shorely displays hisnobility of soul, that a-way, as ondiscouraged an' ondimmed. Noone's lookin' for Jeff partic'lar, when I hears a steamboat whistlefor our landin'. I, bein' as I am full of the ontamed cur'osity ofyooth, goes curvin' out to see what's up. I hears the pilot give theengineer the bells to set her back. On the sta'board wheel, an' thenon both. The boat comes driftin' in. A stagin' is let down, an withthe 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 heain'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 bayhoss. As he strikes the bank, Jeff turns an' sweeps the scene withthe eye of a eagle. Then takin' a bogus silver watch outen hispocket, he w'irls her over his head by the leather string an' letsher go out into the river, ker-chunk!

"'"Which I enters into this yere rebellion, " says Jeff, flashin' aproud, high glance on me where I stands wonderin', "without nothin', an' I proposes to return with honor ontarnished, an' as pore as Igoes in. "

"'As me an' Jeff reepairs up to the house, I notes the mostrenegade-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' asmall libation, 'to strike a blow for the confed'racy, but my soulis shorely in the cause. I does try to j'ine, final, an' is onlysaved tharfrom, an' from what would, ondoubted, have been my certaindeath, by a reb gen'ral named Wheeler. He don't mean to do it; she'sinadvertent 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 ofgratitoode 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 tothat brave commander which I'm allers ready to pay. It's in themiddle years of the war, an' I'm goin' to school in a village whichlies back from the river, an' is about twenty miles from myancestral 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 inhabitantseither march or mark time, whichever chances to be their Yankeecaprices. 

"'As a troo Southern yooth, who feels for his strugglin' country, Iloathes them Yankees to the limit, an' has no more use for 'em thanHuggins 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 newsup 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 thefield of carnage, a reb cavalryman is swingin' outen the saddle. Hethrows the bridle of his hoss to me. 

"'" See yere, Bud, " he says, "hold my hoss a minute while I sees ifI can't burn this stockade. "

"'I stands thar while the reb fusses away with some pine splintersan' lightwood, strugglin' to inaug'rate a holycaust. He can't makethe landin'; them timbers is too green, that a-way. 

"'While I'm standin' thar, lendin' myse'f to this yere conflagratoryenterprise, I happens to cast my eyes over on the hills a mile backfrom the village, an' I'm shocked a whole lot to observe thememinences an' summits is bloo with Yankees comin'. Now I'm a mightycareful boy, an' I don't allow none to let a ragin' clanjamfrey ofthem 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 sightbetter come get your hoss, or them Yanks who's bulgin' along overyonder'll spread your hide on the fence. "

"'This reb takes a look at the Yanks, an' then comes an' gets hishoss. As he gathers up the bridle rein an' swings into the saddle, amad thirst to fight, die an' bleed for my country seizes me, an' Igrabs 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' anothersize-up of the Yanks. 

"'" I ain't so young as I looks, " I argues; "I'm jest small of myage. "

"'" Now, I reckons that's so, " says the reb, beamin' on meapprovin', "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 agun, I can steal a hoss, that a-way, in the first mile. "

"'Seein' me so ready with them argyments, an' so dead pertinaciousto go, this yere trooper begins to act oneasy, like his resolootiongets shook some. At last he gridds his teeth together like hismind'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 theway he goes skallyhootin' 'round, he's goin' to get us all killed orcaptured before ever we gets back, an' I don't want no chil'en on myhands. " "'With that this yere soldier yanks the bridle outen mygrasp, claps the steel into his hoss's flanks, an' leaves me like abullet from a gun. For my part, I stands thar saved; saved, as Isays, 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 OldCattleman, as we drew together for our usual talk. "I've been sorto' cog'tatin' tharof, an' I begins to allow I'm a mighty sight toogarrulous 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 talkerthan old Vance Groggins, "

"Was Groggins a great conversationist?" I asked. 

"Does this yere Vance Groggins converse? Which I wish I has storedby a pint of licker for everythin' Vance says! It would be a longspell before ever I'm driven to go ransackin' 'round to find one ofthem 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, itgets in his way. Vance comes mighty clost to gettin' a heap theworst 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 jestcan't resist takin' part in every conversation that's started. Lettwo 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 gentmention that he brands eight hundred calves that spring round-up, Vance cuts in with the bluff that his brother Abe brands twelvehundred; does a sport su'gest that he sees a party win four thousanddollars ag'in monte or roulette or faro or some sech amoosement, Vance gets thar prompt with some ranikaboo relations of a time whenhis 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, 'jestnacherally wins the kyarpets off Whitey Bob's floor. '

"Son, it's simple egreegious the way this Vance carries on in themfool rev'lations touchin' his brother Abe. 

"It gets so, final, that a passel of sports lodges complaints withJenkins. '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 thatbrother Abe Groggins of his'n. '

"Them criticisms makes Jenkins plenty quer'lous. He rounds Vance upan' curries him a whole lot. Then he tells Vance to pull hisfreight; he don't want him to deal faro-bank for him no more. 

"At this, Vance turns plumb piteous, an' asks Jenkins not to throwhim loose, that a-way. An' he promises to re-organize an' alter hissystem. 'I knows my failin's, ' says Vance a heap mournful. 'Youdon't have to come 'round tauntin' me with 'em; I'm dead onto 'emmyse'f. I'm too frank an' I'm too sociable; I'm too prone to regalemy fellow gents with leafs from my experience; an' I realize, aswell as you do, Jenk, it's wrong. Shorely, I've no right to stop inthe 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 itain't right, Jenk; but I promises you, if you'll let me go behindthe box ag'in to-night, on the honor of a kyard sharp, you-all willnever 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 toonsettle a gent's play, to say nothin' of runnin' the resk ofraisin' 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, Iwon't say "Go, " I'll jest onlimber an' burn the moccasins off youwith my gun. '

"It's that very night; Vance has been dealin' the game for mightylikely it's three hours, an' no one gets a verbal rise outen himmore'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 toreckon mebby Vance'll do. All goes well ontil a party lets fly somehyperbole about a tavern he strikes in Little Rock, which for sizean' extensif characteristics lays over anythin' on earth like asummer's cloud. 

"'You thinks so?' says Vance, stoppin' the deal, an' leanin' a elbowon the box, while he goes projectin' towards the countenance of theLittle Rock party with the forefinger of his other hand, kind o'claimin' his attention. 'You thinks so! I allows now you-all reckonsthat 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 thembathin' camps, swept by ocean breezes, on the Pacific slope, an' youshould shorely oughter behold the joint he slams up! Pards, thar'smore than two thousand rooms in that wickeyup! It's 'leven hundredan' twelve foot high, four thousand two hundred an' fifty-four footlong, an'--' It's here pore Vance catches Jenkins' eye glarin' onhim hard an' remorseless--'an' twenty foot wide, ' says Vance, a heaphurried, 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 thelawn 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 mewith a heap of respect for deef an' dumb folks; which they shorelydo keep things to themse'fs a whole lot. "

It was fifteen minutes before I could convince my friend that hisWolfville stories in no sort diminished his dignity. Also, Ireminded him of a promise to one day tell me of Enright's one affairof love; plainly his bond in that should be fulfilled. At last hegave way, and after commanding the coming of a favorite and highlyrefreshing beverage, held forth as follows:

"It's never been my beliefs, " he said, "that Sam Enright would havedipped 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 ofbein' down in his blankets, an' is still meanderin' 'round the campas dooty dictates or his interest calls, but he's plenty ailin' jestthe same. Thar's the roodiments of a dispoote between Doc Peets an'Enright as to why his health that time is boggin' down. Peets putsit up it's a over-accoomulation of alkali; Enright allows it'sbecause he's born so long ago. Peets has his way, however, bein' ascientist that a-way, an' takes possession of the case. 

"No, it ain't them maladies that so weakens Enright he lapses intoconfidences about his early love; but you see, son, Peets stops hisnose-paint; won't let him drink so much as a drop; an' bein' cut offshort on nourishment like I says, it makes Enright--at least so Iallers figgers--some childish an' light-headed. That's right; youremove that good old Valley Tan from the menu of a party who's beenadherin' an' referrin' to it year after year for mighty likely allhis days, an' it sort o' takes the stiffenin' outen his dignity alot; he begins to onbend an' wax easy an' confidenshul. Is seemsthen like he goes about cravin' countenance an' support. An' downonder my belt, it strikes me at the time, an' it shore strikes meyet, that ravishin' the canteen from Enright, nacherally enfeebleshim an' sets him to talkin' an tellin' of past days. Oh, he don'tkeep up this yere onhealthful abstinence forever. Peets declar'sEnright removed from danger, an' asks him to drink, himse'f, insideof two weeks. 

"'Where a gent, ' says Peets, elab'ratin' this yere theery of notdrinkin' none, 'has been crookin' his elbow constant, an' then goeswrong, bodily, it's a great play to stop his nose-paint abrupt. It'sa shock to him, same as a extra ace in a poker deck; an' when agent' is ill, shocks is what he needs. '

"'But let me savey about this, ' says Dan Boggs, who's allers a heapinquis'tive an' searchin' after knowledge; 'do you-all impose thisonwonted sobriety as a penalty, or do you make the play meedic'nal?'

Meedic'nal, ' says Peets. 'In extreme cases, sobriety is plentycooratif. '

"Does Enright bow to Doc Peets' demands about no whiskey that a-way?Son, Peets is plumb inex'rable about them preescriptions of his. Helooks on the mildest argyment ag'in 'em as personal affronts. Peetsis the most immov'ble sharp, medical, that ever I crosses up with;an' when it comes to them preescriptions, the recklessest sport inArizona lays down his hand. 

"Once I knows Peets to pass on the failin' condition of a tenderfootwho's bunked in an' allows he'll die a lot over to the O. K. Restauraw. Peets decides this yere shorthorn needs abstinence fromlicker. Peets breaks the news to the onhappy victim, an' puts him onwater till the crisis shall be past. Also, Peets notified the RedLight not to heed any requests of this party in respects to saidnose-paint. 

"It turns out this sick person, bonin' for licker as is plumbnacheral, forgets himse'f as a gent an' sort o' reckons he'll getfraudulent with Peets. He figgers he'll jest come Injunin' into theRed Light, quil himse'f about a few drinks surreptitious, an' thengo 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 Lightbar an' calls for Valley Tan. 

"Black Jack, the barkeep, don't know this party from a cross-Lsteer; he gets them mandates from Peets, but it never does strikeBlack Jack that this yere is the dyin' sport allooded to. Indarkness that a-way, Black Jack tosses a glass on the bar an' shovesthe bottle. It shore looks like that failin' shorthorn is goin' toquit winner, them recooperatifs. 

"But, son, he's interrupted. He's filled his glass--an' he's beenplenty free about it--an' stands thar with the bottle in his hand, when two guns bark, an' one bullet smashes the glass an' the otherthe bottle where this person is holdin' it. No, this artillerypractice 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 hislittle pup-guns in each hand. 

"'Which I likes your aplomb!' says Black Jack to Peets, as he swabsoff the bar in a peevish way. 'I makes it my boast that I'm thebest-nachered barkeep between the Colorado an' the Rio Grande, an'yet I'm free to confess, sech plays chafes me. May I ask, ' an' BlackJack stops wipin' the bar an' turns on Peets plumb p'lite, 'whatyour idee is in thus shootin' your way into a commercial affair inwhich you has no interest?'

"'This ycre bibulous person is my patient, ' says Peets, a heaphaughty. 'I preescribes no licker; an' them preescriptions is goin'to be filled, you bet! if I has to fill 'em with a gun. Whatever doyou-all reckon a medical practitioner is? Do you figger he's aMexican, an' that his diagnosises, that a-way, don't go? I notifiesyou this mornin' as I stands yere gettin' my third drink, that ifthis outcast comes trackin' in with demands for nose-paint, toremember he's sick an' throw him out on his head. An' yere's how I'mobeyed!'

"Which, of course, this explains things to Black Jack, an' he seeshis inadvertences. He comes out from behind the bar to where thissick maverick has done fainted in the confoosion, an' collars himan' sets him on a char. 

"'Doc, ' says Black Jack, when he's got the wilted gent planted firman' safe, 'I tenders my regrets. Havin' neither brands nory'earmarks to guide by, I never recognizes this person as yourinvalid 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 hisidentity. To show I'm on the squar', Doc, I'll do this party anyvoylence, even at this late hour, which you think will make amends. '

"'Your apol'gy is accepted, ' says Peets, but still haughty; 'Idescerns how you gets maladroit through errors over which you has nocontrol. As to this person, who's so full of stealthy cunnin', he'sall right. So long as he don't get no licker, no voylence is calledfor in his case. ' An' with that Peets conducts his patient, who'scome to ag'in, back to his reservation. 

"But I onbuckles this afternoon to tell you-all about Old ManEnright's early love, an' if I aims to make the trip before the mooncomes up, I better hit the trail of them reminiscences an' nofurther 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 'nolicker' has been feedin' for two full days, sits thar sort o'fidgin' with his fingers an' movin' his feet in a way which showshe's a heap on aige. Thar's a melancholy settles on us all, as wecamps 'round on crates an' shoe boxes an' silently sympathizes withEnright to see him so redooced. At last the grand old chief startsin to talk without questions or requests. 

"'If you-all don't mind, ' says Enright, 'I'll let go a handful ofmem'ries touchin' my yooth. Thar's nothin' like maladies to make agent sentimental, onless it be gettin' shot up or cut up withbullets or bowies; an' these yere visitations, which Peets thinks isalkali an' I holds is the burdens of them years of mine, shoreleaves 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 firstan' only love. She's a fine young female, is Polly--tall as asaplin', with a arm on her like a cant-hook. Polly can lift an' hangup 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 shotup'ards into the semblances of a man. My affections for Polly hastheir beginnin's in a coon-hunt into which b'ars an' dogs getscommingled 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'nonce, ag'inst the best there is in either the Cumberland or theTennessee bottoms, or on the ridge between, I've won as good as, sayfirst, 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 themqueries. The fifth quarter is the hide an' tallow; an' also thar's asixth quarter, the same bein' the bullets in the stump which makesthe target, an' which is dug out a whole lot, lead bein' plentyinfrequent in them days I'm dreamin' of. 

"'As I'm sayin', when Dan lams loose them thick head questions, I'ma 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 Iain't layin' for deer, I'm squawkin' turkeys; an' when I ain'tsquawkin' turkeys, I'm out nights with a passel of misfit dogs Iharbors, a shakin' up the scenery for raccoons. Altogether, I'm somebusy as you-all may well infer. 

"'One night I'm coon huntin'. The dogs trees over on Rapid Run. WhenI 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 warbleswhat parts they will, indiscrim'nate. 

"'Nacherally, the dogs can't climb the tree none, an' I has to makethat 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'blenone; he's higher up an' the leaves an' bresh hides him. I goes ontill 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 asa baggage wagon. He ain't two foot above me too; an' the sight ofhim, settin' thar like a black bale of cotton, an' his nearness, an'partic'larly a few terse remarks he lets drop, comes mighty clost toastonishin' me to death. I thinks of my gun; an' then I lets go allbolts to go an' get it. Shore, I falls outen the tree; thar ain't notime to descend slow an' dignified. 

"'As I comes crashin' along through them beech boughs, it inculcatesa misonderstandin' among the dogs. Andrew Jackson, Thomas Benton an'the others is convoked about that tree on a purely coon theery. Theyexpects me to knock the coon down to 'em. They shorely do not expectme to come tumblin' none myse'f. It tharfore befalls that when Imakes my deboo among 'em, them canines, blinded an' besotted as Isay with thoughts of coon, prounces upon me in a body. Every dogrends off a speciment of me. They don't bite twice; they perceivesby the taste that it ain't no coon an' desists. 

"'Which I don't reckon their worryin' me would have become acontinyoous performance nohow; for me an' the dogs is hardly tangledup that a-way, when we're interfered with by the b'ar. Looks likethe example I sets is infectious; for when I lets go, the b'ar letsgo; an' I hardly hits the ground an' becomes the ragin' center ofinterest to Andrew Jackson, Thomas Benton an' them others, when theb'ar is down on all of us like the old Cumberland on a sandbardoorin' a spring rise. I shore regyards his advent that a-way as theday of jedgment. 

"'No, we don't corral him. The b'ar simply r'ars back long enough toput Andrew Jackson an' Thomas Benton into mournin', an' then goesscuttlin' off through the bushes like the grace of heaven through acamp-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 asever finds refooge in that strip of timber. As near as I makes outby 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 faras the b'ar's concerned; but it shore crumples me up as entirely asif this yere outfit of anamiles plots the play for a month. 

"'With the last flicker of my failin' strength, I crawls to my oldgent's teepee an' is took in. An' you shore should have heard thelanguage of that household when they sees the full an' awful extentthem dogs an' that b'ar lays me waste. Which I'm layed up eightweeks. 

"'My old gent goes grumblin' off in the mornin', an' rounds up oldAunt Tilly Hawks to nurse me. Old Aunt Tilly lives over on thePainted Post, an' is plumb learned in yarbs an' sech as Injunturnips, opydeldock, live-forever, skoke-berry roots, jinson an'whitewood bark. An' so they ropes up Aunt Tilly Hawks an' tells herto 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 wrinkledlike a burnt boot, an' she dips snuff. Moreover, she gives me thehorrors 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, makesme gloomy an' dejected. I'm shore pinin' away onder these yeremalign inflooences, when my old gent notes I ain't recooperatin', an' so he guesses the cause; an' with that he gives Aunt Tilly alay-off, an' tells her to send along her niece Polly to take herplace, "'Thar's a encouragin' difference. Polly is big an' strong like Istates; but her eyes is like stars, an' she's as full of sweetnessas a bee tree or a bar'l of m'lasses. So Polly camps down by mycouch of pain an' begins dallyin' soothin'ly with my heated brow. Icommences 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; butI meets her frequent at barn raisin's an' quiltin's, which allerswinds up in a dance; an' in them games an' merriments, sech as"bowin' to the wittiest, kneelin' to the prettiest, an' kissin' theone you loves the best, " I more than once regyards Polly as analloorin' form of hooman hollyhock, an' selects her. But thar's noflush of burnin' love; nothin' nore than them amiable formalitieswhich befits the o'casion. 

"'While this yere Polly is nursin' me, however, she takes on adifferent attitoode a whole lot. It looks like I begins to need herpermanent, an' every time I sets my eyes on her I feels as soft asb'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'tseem so plumb prismatic. Still, I must say, she's plenty radiant. '

"'Does you-all, ' says Dan Boggs, 'put this yere Polly in nom'nationto be your wife while you're quiled up sick? '

"'No, I defers them offers to moments when I'm more robust, ' saysEnright. 

"'You shore oughter rode at her while you're sick that a-way, 'remonstrates Boggs. 'That's the time to set your stack down. Femalesis easy moved to pity, an', as I've heared--for I've nothin' to goby, personal, since I'm never married an' is never sick none--is aheap more prone to wed a gent who's sick, than when he's well alot. '

"'I holds them doctrines myse'f, ' observes Enright; 'however, Idon'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, Icontinyoos on lovin' Polly to myse'f that a-way, ontil I'm able togo pokin' about on crutches; an' then, as thar's no more need of herministrations, 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, bylook or act, or mebby it's a sigh, I tips off my hand. It ain't notime 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, formonths. I never do hear of this gent ontil I'm cripplin' 'round onthem stilts of crutches; an' then I ain't informed of him none onlyafter he's informed of me. 

"'Thar's a measley little limberjaw of a party whose name is IkeSparks; 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 tohide the shells. He hates everybody, this Ike does; an' he's assuspicious as Bill Johnson's dog, which last is that doubtful an'suspicious he shore walks sideways all his life for fear someone'sgoin' to kick him. This low-down Ike imparts to Polly's other loverabout the state of my feelin's; an' then it ain't no time when Igets notice of this sport's existence. 

"'It's in the licker room of the tavern at Pine Knot, to whichscenes I've scrambled on them crutches one evenin', where this partyfirst meets up with me in person. He's a big, tall citizen withlanky, long ha'r, an' is dressed in a blanket huntin' shirt an' hasa coon-skin cap with the tail hangin' over his left y'ear. Also, hepacks 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'tfit, physical, for no skrimmage, I has to sing plumb low. 

"'Thar's a band of us settin' 'round when this lover of Polly'sshows 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 pitcheshis rifle to the landlord over the bar, an' calls for a Baldfacewhiskey toddy. He takes four or five drinks, contemplatin' usmeanwhile a heap disdainful. Then he arches his back, bends hiselbows, 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'swhat 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 hegoes 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 ofdesolation! I'm kin to rattlesnakes on my mother's side; I'm king ofall the eagles an' full brother to the b'ars! I'm the bloo-eyed lynxof 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 mylivin' hands! I broke a full-grown allagator across my knee, torehim asunder an' showered his shrinkin' fragments over a full sectionof land! I hugged a cinnamon b'ar to death, an' made a grizzly pleadfor 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 deadshot; I'm the blood-drinkin', skelp-t'arin', knife-plyin' demon ofSunflower 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 canwade the Cumberland without wettin' myse'f, an' I drinks outen thespring without touchin' the ground! I'm a swinge-cat; but I warnsyou not to be misled by my looks! I'm a flyin' bison, an'deevastation rides upon my breath! Whoop! whoop! whoopee! I'm thePurple Blossom of Gingham Mountain, an' where is that son of thunderwho'll try an' nip me in the bud! Whoop! whoopee! I'm yere to fightor drink with any sport; any one or both! Whoopee! Where is thestately stag to stamp his hoof or rap his antlers to myproclamations! Where is that boundin' buck! Whoopee! whoop! whoop!"

"'Then this yere vociferous Purple Blossom pauses for breath; butkeeps up his stilt-laig dance, considerin' me meanwhile with hiseye, plenty baleful. We-all on our parts is viewin' him over a heaprespectful, an' ain't retortin' a word. Then he begins ag'in with ayelp that would stampede a field of corn. 

"'"Who is thar lovelier than Polly Hawks!" he shouts. "Show me thefemale more entrancin', an' let me drop dead at her feet! Who islovelier than Polly Hawks, the sweetheart of Flyin' Bison, theonchained tornado of the hills! Feast your gaze on Polly Hawks; herbeauty would melt the heart of Nacher! I'm the Purple Blossom ofGingham Mountain; Polly Hawks shall marry an' follow me to mywigwam! 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'spelts fringed 'round with wolf-tails an' eagles' claws! She shallbelt herse'f with a rattlesnake, an' her Sunday bonnet shall be aswarm 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 standin my way?"

"'At this p'int the Purple Blossom leaves off dancin' an' fronts upto me, personal. 

"'"Whoopee!" he says; "say that you don't love the girl an' I'llgive you one hundred dollars before I spills your life!"

"'Which, of course, all these yere moosical an' terpshicoreenpreeliminaries means simply so much war between me an' this speritedbeau of Polly's, to see who'll own the lady's heart. I explains thatI'm not jest then fit for combat, sufferin' as I be from thatoverabundance 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 daytwo months away when he allows he'll shore descend from GinghamMountain, melt me down an' run me into candles to burn at theweddin' of him an' Polly Hawks. Then we drinks together, allfraternal, an' he gives me a chew of tobacco outen a box, made ofthe head of a bald eagle, in token of amity, that a-way. 

"'But that rumpus between the Purple Blossom an' me never does comeoff; an' them rites over me an' Polly is indef'nitely postponed. Thefact is, I has to leave a lot. I starts out to commit a joke, an' itturns out a crime; an' so I goes streakin' it from the scenes of myyoothful frolics for safer stampin' grounds. 

"'It's mebby six weeks followin' them declarations of the PurpleBlossom. It's co't day at War-whoop Crossin', an' the Jedge an'every law-sharp on that circuit comes trailin' into camp. This yereoutfit of Warwhoop is speshul fretful ag'inst all forms of gamblin'. Wherefore the Jedge, an' the state's attorney, an' mebby five otherspeculators, at night adjourns to the cabin of a flat-boat which istied up at the foot of the levee, so's they can divert themse'fswith 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'mromancin' about, tryin' to figger out how I'm to win Polly, when asI'm waltzin' along the levee--I'm plumb alone, an' the town itse'fhas turned into its blankets--I gets sight of this yere pokerfestival 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 thesobbin' 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 swimssilently away on the bosom of the river. The sports inside knowsnothin' an' guesses less, an' their gayety swells on without ahitch. 

"'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' getscold feet plenty prompt. He murmurs somethin' about tellin' the oldlady 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' carefullypicks his way overboard into forty foot of water. The yell the Jedgeemits as he makes his little hole in the Cumberland is the firstnews them kyard sharps gets that they're afloat a whole lot. 

"'It ain't no push-over rescooin' Jedge Finn that time. The onehundred an' sixty is in Mexican money, an' he's got a pound or twoof it sinkered about his old frame in every pocket; so he goes tothe bottom like a kag of nails. 

"'But they works hard, an' at last fishes him out, an' rolls himover a bar'l to get the water an' the money outen him. Which ondersech treatment, the Jedge disgorges both, an' at last comes to atrifle an' is fed whiskey with a spoon. 

"'Havin' saved the Jedge, the others turns loose a volley of yellsthat shorely scares up them echoes far an' wide. It wakes up alittle 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 forseventy dollars, which is paid out of the rescooed treasure of JedgeFinn, the same bein' declar'd salvage by them bandits he's beenplayin' with. 

"'It's two o'clock in the afternoon when that band of gamblers pullsup ag'in at Warwhoop, an' they're shorely a saddened party as theyfiles ashore. The village is thar in a frownin' an' resentful bodyto 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 assubsequent events assoomes a somber face. Old Jedge Finn goes fumin'about like a wronged lion, an' the rest is as hot as election day ina hornet's nest. Pards, I'm a Mexican! if they don't indict me forpiracy on the high seas, an' pledge their words to see me hangedbefore ever co't adjourns. 

"'That lets me out, right thar! I sees the symptoms of myonpop'larity in advance, an' don't procrastinate none. I goessailin' over the divide to the Tennessee, down the Tennessee to theOhio, down the Ohio to the Mississippi, down the Mississippi to theArkansaw, up the Arkansaw to Little Rock; an' thar I pauses, exhausted shore, but safe as a murderer in Georgia. Which I neverdoes go back for plumb ten years. 

"'Nacherally, because of this yere exodus, I misses my engagementswith the Purple Blossom; also them nuptials I plots about PollyHawks, 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 aprimary or start a public school. It's all over long ago, an' I'mglad the kyards falls as they do. Still, as I intimates, thar's themmoments of romance to ride me down, when I remembers my one lonelove affair with Polly Hawks, the beauty of the Painted Post. '

"Enright pauses, an' we-all sets still a moment out of respects tothe 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 ofthat Purple Blossom's war-song West. I deems that a mighty excellentlay, an' would admire to learn it an' sing it some myse'f. I'd shorego over an' carol it to Red Dog; it would redooce them drunkards tofrenzy. "'

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Where Whiskey Billy Died. 

"Lies in the lump that a-way, " said the Old Cattleman, apropos ofsome slight discussion in which we were engaged, "is bad--an' makeno 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 himnor his fabrications, none whatever. He's one of these yere amiablegents who's merely aimin' to entertain you an' elevate your moods;an' carryin' out sech plans, he sort o' spreads himse'f, an' getsexcursive in conversation, castin' loose from facts as vain thingsonworthy of him. Thar used to be jest sech a mendacious party whocamps 'round Wolfville for a while--if I don't misrecollect, he getsplugged standin' up a through stage, final--who is wont to lie thata-way; we calls him 'Lyin' Amos. ' But they're only meant toentertain you; them stories be. Amos is never really out to put youon a wrong trail to your ondoin'. 

"We-all likes Amos excellent; but, of course, when he takes to thehills as a hold-up, somebody has to down him; an' my mem'ry on thatp'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 howhe 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 theeffect that he stops six of 'em for good with the six loads in hisweepon, an' then makes it a stand-off on the remainin' fourteen withthe empty gun. 

"'It is the slumberin' terrors of my eye, I reckons, ' says thisLyin' Amos. 

"Which it's reason, an' likewise fact, that sech tales is merestfigments on their faces; to say nothin' of the hist'ry of that campof 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 boxesonct too frequent! Which the pitcher goes too often to the well, that a-way, an' Amos finds it out! Still, Amos is only out toentertain me when he onfurls how lucky an' how ferocious he is thattime at Deming. Amos is simply whilin' the hours away when heconcocts them romances; an' so far from bein' distrustful of him onaccount tharof, or holdin' of him low because he lets his fancystampede an' get away with him, once we saveys his little game inall its harmlessness, it makes Amos pop'lar. We encourages Amos inthem expansions. 

"Speakin' of lyin', an' bein' we're on the subject, it ain't toomuch to state that thar's plenty o'casions when lyin' is not onlyproper but good. It's the thing to do. 

"Comin' to cases, the world's been forever basin' its game on thelies 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 aheap of folks some hard to find at the close of them mootualconfidences. Which places now flourishin' like a green bay-treewould be deserted wastes an' solitoodes. Yes, as I says, now I getsplumb cog'tative about it, sech attempts to put down fiction mightresult in onpreecedented disaster. Thar be times when trooth shouldshorely 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 themirror of mem'ry a hour when the whole Wolfville outfit quits everyother game to turn itse'f loose an' lie. Which for once we takes thelimit 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 theround-up, gets in on the play. Which every gent stands pat on theminventions 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'shand gets crowded, it's ours. 

"The demands for these yere falsehoods has its first seeds oneevenin' when a drunken party comes staggerin' into camp from RedDog. It's strange; but it looks like Wolfville has a fasc'nation forthem Red Dog sots; which they're allers comin' over. This victim ofalcohol is not a stranger to us, not by no means; though mostly heholds his revels in his Red Dog home. His name I disremembers, buthe goes when he's in Wolfville by the name of 'Whiskey Billy. ' If hehas a last name, which it's likely some he has, either we neverhears 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 Iallers allows that's merely the work of a loocid interval. 

"Whiskey Billy ain't brightened Wolfville with his society more'n anhour--he only gets one drink with us--when he lapses into themtreemors. 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'vebeheld gents who has visions before ever Whiskey Billy emits thatpreelim'nary yelp in the Red Light, an' allows that Black Jack ispawin' 'round to skelp him; but I'm yere to remark, an' ready toenforce my statements with money, argyments or guns, I neverwitnesses 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 DocPeets soopervisin', ridin' herd onto him an' holdin' him down in hisblankets all the time--that if Whiskey Billy goes to take a drink ofwater, he thinks the beverage turns to blood. If he sees anythin' toeat, 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 todeath, 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' hiswhiskey. 

"'This yere riotous patient of mine, ' says Peets, as he leans on thebar an' talks general an' free to all, 'this noisy party whom younow hears callin' Dan Boggs a rattlesnake, bein' misled to thatextent by Red Dog licker, has a ca'm moment about first drink timethis mornin', an' beseeches me to send for his mother. As a sickgent has a right to dictate terms that a-way, I dispatches atelegram to the lady he names, sendin' of the same by Old Monte tobe slammed through from Tucson. I reckons she gets it by now. OldMonte 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'smother is informed that he's askin' for her presence. '

"'Which if he's callin' an' honin' for his mother, ' says TexasThompson, who's at the bar with Peets, 'it's cattle to sheep he's agoner. You can allers tell when a sport is down to his last chip; henever omits to want to see his mother. '

"'That's whatever!' says Enright. 'Like Texas, I holds sech desireson the part of this yere Red Dog martyr as markin' the beginnin' ofthe end. '

"'Bein' he's plumb locoed, ' remarks Pests, after Texas an' Enrightexpresses themse'fs, 'I takes the liberty to rustle them clothes ofBilly's for signs. I developed letters from this near relatif he'sclamorin' for; also a picture as shows she's as fine a old lady asever 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 nowindustriously trackin' 'round, lookin' to locate himse'f as alawyer. I don't reckon this yere mother has the slightest idee he'snothin' more'n a ragged, busted victim of Red Dog. Lookin' at itthat a-way, ' concloodes Pests, 'I'm wonderin' whether I don't make acrazy-boss play sendin' this lady them summons. '

"'When she gets here, if she comes, ' says Enright, an' his voiceshows a heap of sympathetic interest; 'when she finds out aboutWhiskey Billy, it's goin' to break her heart. That she ain't game tomake 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 inLaredo 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 hismother, 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. Thiscamp must turn in when she gets here an' deloode that pore oldmother into the belief that her son Billy's been the prop an' stayof Arizona, an' that his ontimely cuttin' off quenches the mostshinin' 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 likeyou-all, however; I don't allow thar's a morsel of doubt about thatmother comin'. '

"'Which I shorely hopes she does, ' says Texas 'an' I yereby drinksto it, an' urges every gent likewise. If thar's a thing on earththat melts me, it's one o' them gray-ha'red old ladies. Youngfemales that a-way is all right, an' it's plenty nacheral for a gentto be cur'ous an' pleased tharwith; but I never does track up withan old lady, white-ha'red an' motherly mind you, but I takes off mysombrero an' says: "You'll excuse me, marm, but I wants to trespasson your time long enough to ask your pardon for livin'. " That'sright; 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 thechurch. The same bein' troo, I'm sayin' that this yere WhiskeyBilly's mother can't strike camp too soon nor stop too long forTexas Thompson. '

"'Every gent I reckons feels all sim'lar, ' says Cherokee Hall. 'Aold lady is the one splendid thing the Lord ever makes. I knows agent over back of Prescott, an' the sight of a good old woman wouldstop his nose-paint for a week. Wouldn't drink a drop nor play akyard, this party wouldn't, for a week after he cuts the trail ofsomebody'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' whiskeybottles. '

"'An' I applauds this yere Prescott person's views, ' says TexasThompson, '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 WhiskeyBilly's parent is goin' to strike the camp?'

"'It'll be five days shore, ' answers Peets. 'She's 'way back yonderthe other side of the Missouri. '

"When Old Monte comes rumblin' along in next day, thar's the messagefrom Whiskey Billy's mother. She's shore a-comin'. This yere Billyis so plumb in the air, mental, he never does know it, an' he diesten hours before the old lady drives in. But Wolfville's ready. That's the time when the whole band simply suspends everythin' tolie. 

"Whiskey Billy is arrayed in Doc Peets' best raiment, so, as Peetssays, he looks professional like a law sharp should. An' bein' as wedevotes to Billy all the water the windmill can draw in a hour, heis a pattern of personal neatness that a-way. 

"Enright--an' thar never is the gent who gets ahead of that oldsilver tip--takin' the word from Peets in advance, sends over toTucson for a coffin as fine as the dance-hall piano, an' it comesalong 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 theO. 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'-roombein' small, an' the coffin needin' the space, the rest of usvamoses into the causeway, an' Missis Rucker is dealin' us our chuckwhen the stage arrives. 

"Thar's a adjournment prompt, however, an' we-all goes over to cheerup 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 handan' 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, thatmendacity does, for, as Texas Thompson surmises, she is shorely thebeautifulest 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 onmeasuredloss, puts no bound'ries on its sympathy for you. '

"'Death loves a shinin' mark, marm, ' says Doc Peets, as he pressesthe 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 yourson Willyum's range. We're like brothers, Willyum an' me, an' from aclose, admirin' friendship which extends over the year an' a halfsince he leaves you in the States, I'm shore qualified to state howWillyum is the brightest, bravest gent in Arizona. '

"An' do you know, son, this yere, which seems a mockery while Irepeats it now, is like the real thing at the time! I'm a coyote! ifit don't affect Texas Thompson so he sheds tears; an' Dan Boggs an'Tutt an' Moore an' Cherokee Hall is lookin' far from bright aboutthe eyes themse'fs. 

"We-all goes over to the O. K. House, followin' the comin' of thestage, 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 trailout so she won't be pestered by the presence of us, as how Peets'llcome back in a hour to see her, an' that as all of us'll be jestacross the street, it'll be plenty easy to fetch us if she feelslike company. As we starts for the Red Light to get somethin' tocheer us up, I sees her where she 's settin' with her arm an' faceon the coffin. 

"It's great work, though, them lies we tells; an' I notes how themother'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 hearsa sound but her own sobs. It's while we're waitin', all quiet an'pensif, camped about the Red Light. Another outlaw from Red Dogcomes cavortin' in. Of course, he is ignorant of our bein' bereavedthat a-way, but he'd no need to be. 

"'Whatever's the matter with you-all wolves yere?' he demands, as hecomes 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' reverentiallybeats his gun over this yere party's head; whereupon he c'llapsesinto 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 toTucson on a buckboard. A dozen of us goes along, makin' good thembluffs about Billy's worth; Enright an' Peets is in the stage withthe old mother, an' the rest of us on our ponies as a bodygyard ofhonor. 

"'An' it is well, marm, ' says Enright, as we-all shakes hands, asBilly 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 onereflects that while Willyum dies, he leaves the world an' all of usbetter for them examples he exerts among us. Willyum may die, buthis mem'ry will live long to lead an' guide us. '

"I could see the old mother's eyes shine with pride through hertears 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 iseverybody, I reckons; for when we're about a mile out on the trailback, an' all ridin' silent an' quiet, Texas ups an' shakes Enrightby the hand a heap sudden, an' says:

"'Sam Enright, I ain't reported as none emotional, but I'm yours tocommand from now till death, an' yere's the hand an' word of TexasThompson on it. '"

CHAPTER XIX. 

When the Stage Was Stopped. 

"Camp down into that char thar, son, " said the Old Cattleman withmuch heartiness. "Which I'm waitin' for that black boy Tom to comeback; I sends him for my war-bags. No, I don't need 'em none, onlyI've got to give this yere imbecile Tom money. Them Senegambians isshore a pecooliar people. They gets a new religion same as you-allgets a new hat, an' they changes their names like some folks doestheir shirt. Which they're that loose an' liable about churches an'cognomens!

"As for money, take this boy Tom. He actooally transacts his life onthe theery that he has prior claims on every splinter of my bank-roll. Jest now he descends onto me an' e'labe'rately states histitle to ten pesos. Says he's done j'ined a new church, an' has beenmade round-up boss or somethin' to a outfit called, 'The Afro-American Widows' Ready Relief Society, ' an' that his doos is tenchips. Of course, he has to have the dinero, so I dismisses him formy wallet like I says. 

"Does them folks change their names? They changes 'em as read'ly asa Injun breaks camp; does it at the drop of the hat. This yereGuinea of mine, his name's Tom. Yet at var'ous times, he informs meof 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 heedto 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 myboy Tom go preescribin' what I'm to call him. But they be cur'ousfolks! The last time this hirelin' changes his name, I asks thereason. 

"'Tom, ' I says, 'this yere is the 'leventh time you cinches on a newname. Now, tell me, why be you-all attemptin' to shift to "WillyumHenry?"'

"'Why, Marse, ' he says, after thinkin' hard a whole lot, 'I don'tknow, only my sister gets married ag'in last night, an' I can'tthink of nothin' else to do, so I sort o' allows I'll change myname. '"

A moment later the exuberant and many-titled Tom appeared with thepocket-book. My old friend selected a ten-dollar bill and with anair 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 meag'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 isa mighty sight too vol'tile. Your sperits is too tireless, an' staystoo long on the wing. Which, onless you cultivates a placider moodan' studies reepose a whole lot, I'll go foragin' about in myplunder an' search forth a quirt, or mebby some sech stinsin' trifleas a trace-chain, an' warp you into quietood an' peace. I reckonsnow 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 anair of cheer. There was a happy grin on his face as he accepted themoney and scraped a "Thanky, sah!" To leave a religious impressionwhich seemed most consistent with the basis of Tom's appeal, thatdusky 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 nevergets in their way; them tenets never seems to get between theirhocks an' trip 'em up in anythin' they wants to do. They goesrangin' 'round, draggin' them religious lariats of theirs, an' Inever yet beholds that church which can drive any picket pin ofdoctrines, or prodooce any hobbles of a creed, that'll hold aMexican or a nigger, or keep him from prancin' out after the firstnotion that nods or beckons to him. Thar's no whim an' no fancywhich 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 meyears. 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. Igives my soul to heaven on high last night, an' wrops myse'f tightan' 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, togo forgettin' it. '

"This yere news don't weigh on me partic'lar, an' I makes nocomments. It's three weeks later when Tom cuts loose anothercommoonication. 

"'You rec'llects, ' he says, 'about me bein' a j'iner an' hookin' upwid d' Presbyter'ans? Well, I'se done shook 'em; I quit thatsanchooary for d' Mefodis. ' D' Presbyter'an is a heap too gloomy areligion for a niggah, sah. Dey lams loose at me wid foreord'nationan' preedest'nation, an' how d' bad place is paved wid chil'ensskulls, an' how so many is called, an' only one in a billion beatsd' 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 howI'm b'ar-hung an' breeze-shaken over hell; an', sah, he simply scaredis niggah to where I jest lay down in d' pew an' howl. After I'sedone 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 dealmo' sunshine among d' Mefodis' folks, an' d' game's a mighty sighteasier. 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, asyou-all couldn't stop him none without buckin' an' gaggin' him, sowhat'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'sresky to go changin' about from one fold to the other like I'se beendoin'; a man might die between, an' then where is he?'

"'But how about this swap to the Baptist church?' I asks. 'I thoughtyou 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 youremembers it. But I don't know d' entire story then. The objectionsI 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 'fessall you've been guilty of endoorin' yo' life! Now, sech doin's tu'nsout mighty embarrassin' for a boy like Tom, who's been a-livin' sorto' loose an' lively for a likely numbah of years, sah, an' Icouldn't stan' it, sah! I'm too modes' to be a Mefodis'. So Iexplains 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'min d' Baptis' chu'ch, sah. You go inter d' watah, kersause! an' thatsets yo' safe in d' love of d' Lamb. '"

Following these revelations of my friend concerning the jauntyfashion in which the "boy Tom" wore his religion as well as hisname, I maintained a respectful silence for perhaps a minute, andthen ventured to seek a new subject. I had been going over thevigorous details of a Western robbery in the papers. After brieflytelling the story as I remembered it, in its broader lines at least, I carried my curiosity to that interesting body politic, the town ofWolfville. 

"In the old days, " I asked, "did Wolfville ever suffer from stagerobberies, or the operations of banditti of the trail?"

"Wolfville, " responded my friend, "goes ag'inst the hold-up game sooften 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 itsteeth some, but comin' down to cases, what is a Wells-Fargo grief tous? Personal, we're out letters an' missifs from home, an' I'vebeheld 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'tsuffer no practical set-backs. We're shy letters, but sech wounds ishealed by time an' other mails to come. We gains what comfort we canfrom 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 getdrunk. The Wolfville emotions sets squar' an' steady in the saddle, an' it takes more than mere commonplace buckin' to so much as throwits foot loose from a stirrup, let alone send it flyin' from itsseat. 

"On this yere o'caslon, however, Wolfville gets stirred a whole lot. For that matter, the balance of Southeast Arizona gives waylikewise, an' excitement is genial an' shorely mounts plumb high. Iremembers plain, now my mind is on them topics, how Red Dog goeshysterical complete, an' sets up nights an' screams. Which the vocalcarryin'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 stoodup; passengers, mail-bags an' express boxes gets cleaned out fortheir last splinter. An' it ain't confined to jest one trail. Thisfestival of crime incloodes a whole region; an' twenty stages, in asmany different places an' almost as many days, yields up to theseyere bandits. Old Monte, looks like, is a speshul fav'rite; theygoes 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'srooles about stage robbin', same as thar is to faro-bank an' poker. It's onderstood by all who's interested, from the manager of thestage company to the gent in the mask who's holdin' the Winchesteron the outfit, that the driver don't fight. He's thar to drive, notshoot; an' so when he hears the su'gestion, 'Hands up!' that a-way, he stops the team, sets the brake, hooks his fingers together overhis 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 trailaccords him them privileges, imposin' no reestrictions on his mouth. He's plumb free to make what insultin' observations he will, so longas he keeps his hands up an' don't start the team none ontil he'sgiven the proper word, the same comin' from the hold-ups or thegyards, whoever emerges winner from said emeutes. 

"As I states, the last time Old Monte is made to front the iron, theWells-Fargo gyard gets plugged as full of lead as a bag of bullets. An' as to that business of loot an' plunder, them miscreants shorelyharvests a back load! It catches Enright a heap hard, this secondbreak which these yere felons makes. 

"Cherokee Hall an' me is settin' in the Red Light, whilin' away timebetween bev'rages with argyments, when Enright comes ploddin' alongin with the tidin's. Cherokee an' me, by a sing'lar coincidence, isdiscussin' the topic of 'probity' that a-way, although ourloocubrations don't flourish none concernin' stage rustlin'. Cherokee is sayin':

"'Now, I holds that trade--what you-all might call commerce, isplenty sappenin' to the integrity of folks. Meanin' no aspersions onany gent in camp, shorely not on the proprietors of the New YorkStore, what I reiterates is that I never meets up with the party whomakes 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 thesquar'. '

"I'm r'ared back on my hocks organizin' to combat the fal'cies ofCherokee, 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 alot, wherefore we lays aside our own dispootes--which after all, hasno real meanin', an' is what Colonel William Greene Sterett calls'ac'demic'--an' turns to Enright to discover whatever is up. BlackJack feels thar's news in the air an' promotes the nose-paintwithout s'licitation. Enright freights his glass an' then says:

"'You-all hears of the noomerous stage robberies? Well, Wolfvillelose ag'in. I, myse'f, this trip am put in the hole partic'lar. If Ionderstands the drift of my own private affairs, thar's over fortythousand dollars of mine on the stage, bein' what balance is doo mefrom that last bunch of cattle. It's mighty likely though she's indrafts that a-way: an' I jest dispatches one of my best riders witha lead hoss to scatter over to Tucson an' wire informations east, tofreeze onto that money ontil further tidin's; said drafts, if sechthar be, havin' got into the hands of these yere diligent hold-upsaforesaid. '

"'Forty thousand dollars!' remarks Cherokee. 'Which that is a joltfor shore!'

"'It shorely shows the oncertainties of things, ' says Enright, ag'inreferrin' to his glass. 'I'm in the very act of congratulatin'myse'f, mental, that this yere is the best season I ever sees, whena party rides in from the first stage station towards Tucson, withthe 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; aconference with Jack is what I needs right now. I'll be back by nextdrink time;' an' with that Enright goes surgin' off to locate Jack. 

"Cherokee an' me, as might be expected, turns our powers ofconversation loose with this new last eepisode of the trail. 

"'An' I'm struck speshul, ' says Cherokee, 'about what Enrightobserves 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 hisworst. I has experiences sim'lar myse'f onct. Which the cases isplumb 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 acamp called Rock Island. You never is thar? I don't aim to encourageyou-all ondooly, still your failure to see Rock Island needn't preyon 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 hundreddollars, mebby. 

"'"That's enough, " says Peg-lalg. "Son, give it to me. I'll putthree hundred with it, an' that'll make a roll of five hundreddollars. With a careful man like me to deal, she shorely oughter beenough. "

"'"Whatever does these yere fiscal bluffs of yours portend?" I asks. 

"'"They portends as follows, " says Peg-laig. "This yere Rock Islandoutfit is plumb locoed to play faro-bank. I've got a deck of kyardsan' a deal box in my pocket. Son, we'll lay over a day a' break thevillage. "

"'Thar's no use tryin' to head off old Peg-laid. He's the mostinvet'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 Iowaan' is buckin' a crooked game. A pard sees him an' takes Peg-laig totask. 

"'"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 knowthis game ain't on the squar', an' them outlaws has a end-squeezebox an' is dealin' two kyards at a clatter an' puttin' back rightonder your ignorant nose? Which you conducts yourse'f like you wasborn last week!"

"'"Of course, I knows the game is crooked, " says Peg-laig, plentydoleful, "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'sall plumb easy for you to stand thar an' say I don't have to goag'inst it. It may change your notion a whole lot when I informs youthat this yere is the only game in town, " an' with that thisreedic'lous Peg-laig hurries back to his seat. 

"'As I asserts former, it's no use me tryin' to make old Peg-laigstop when once he's started with them schemes of his, so I turnsover 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' adeck to deal with. So he fakes a layout with a suite of jimcrowkyards he buys, local, an' a oil-cloth table-cover, an' thar he isorganized to begin. For chips, he goes over to a store an' buystwenty stacks of big wooden button molds, same as they sews thecloth onto for overcoat buttons. When Peg-laig is ready, you shouldhave beheld the enthoosiasm of them Rock Island folks. They goesag'inst that brace of Peg-laig's like a avalanche. 

"'Peg-laig deals for mighty likely it's an hour. Jest as he puts itup, he's a careful dealer, an' the result is we win all the big betsan' most all the little ones, an' I'm sort o' estimatin' in my mindthat we're ahead about four hundred simoleons. Of a-sudden, Peg-laigstops dealin', up-ends his box and turns to me with a look whichshows he's plumb dismayed. P'intin' at the check-rack, Peg-laigsays:

"'"Son, look thar!"

"'Nacherally, I looks, an' I at once realizes the roots of thatconsternation of Peg-laig's. It's this: While thar's more of thembutton molds in front of Peg-laig's right elbow than we embarks withorig'nal, thar's still twenty-two hundred dollars' worth in thehands of the Rock Island pop'lace waitin' to be cashed. However dothey do it? They goes stampedin' over to this yere storekeep an'purchases 'em for four bits a gross. They buys that vagrant out thata-way. They even buys new kinds on us, an' it's a party tryin' tobet a stack of pants buttons on the high kyard that calls Peg-laig'sattention 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. Wewalks out of Rock Island. About a mile free of the camp, Peg-laigstops 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 shorelywinners. An' I want to add, son, that if we-all could have kept onwinnin' for two hours more, we'd a-lost eight thousand dollars. "

"'It's like this yere stage hold-up on Enright, ' concloodesCherokee; 'it's a harassin' instance of where the more you wins, themore you lose. '

"About this time, Enright an' Jack Moore comes in. Colonel Sterettan' Dan Boggs j'ines us accidental, an' we-all six holds a pow wowin low tones. 

"'Which Jack, ' observes Enright, like he's experimentin' an' ropin'for our views, 'allows it's his beliefs that this yere guilelesstenderfoot, Davis, who says he's from Buffalo, an' who's beenprancin' about town for the last two days, is involved in themfelonies. '

"'It ain't none onlikely, ' says Boggs; 'speshully since he's fromBuffalo. I never does know but one squar' gent who comes fromBuffalo; 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 afterBoggs, '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 Davisassoomes 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-hallwon't mix no drinks. Which I might, in the hurry of my dooties, havepassed by them childish bluffs onchallenged an' with nothin' morethan pityin' thoughts of the ignorance of this yere maverick, butgents, this party overplays his hand. Last evenin' he asks me to lethim take my gun, says he's cur'ous to see one. That settles it withme; this Davis has been a object of suspicion ever since. No, itain't that I allows he's out to queer my weepon none, but think ofsech a pretence of innocence! I leaves it to you-all, collectif an'individooal, do you reckon now thar's anybody, however tender, who'sthat guileless as to go askin' a perfect stranger that a-way to passhim out his gun? I says no, this gent is overdoin' them roles. Heain't so tender as he assoomes. An' from the moment I hears of thislast stand-up of the stage back in the canyon, I feels that thisyere party is somehow in the play. Thar's four in this band who'sbeen spreadin' woe among the stage companies lately, an' thar's onlytwo 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'tpresent 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 hehails 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' inthis 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' conlike, we pushes forth in discussion of this person. 

"'It does look like this Davis, ' says Colonel Sterett, 'now Jackbrings 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 asample, he comes sidlin' up to me. "Is thar any good fishin' aboutyere?" he asks. "Which I shore yearns to fish some. "

"'"Does this yere landscape, " I says, wavin' my arm about thehor'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 howhe goes anglin' back in the States. "Which the eel is the gamestfish, " says this Davis. "When I'm visitin' in Virginny, I used to gofishin'. 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 hopesin his bosom an' lettin' him think he's loose. Not me; I wouldn't sodeloode--wouldn't play it that low on a fish. I goes anglin' in aformal, se'f-respectin' way. I uses a short line an' a pole which isstiff an' strong. When I gets a bite, I yanks him out an' lets himknow his fate right thar. "

"'"But eels ain't no game fish, " I says. "Bass is game, but noteels. "

"'"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 ofa eel I snags onto down by Culpepper. When he bites that time Igives 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. Whateverwould 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 themresentments of his. What does my eel do? Stranger, he stands up onhis tail an' fights me. Game! that eel's game as scorpions! My dogFido'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 doeshe weigh? Whatever do I know about it? When he's done put the gaffsinto Fido, he nacherally sa'nters back into the branch where helives at. I don't get him none; I deems I'm plumb lucky when hedon't get me. Still, if any gent talks of game fish that a-way, Iwants it onderstood, I strings my money on that Culpepper eel. "'

"'Thar, it's jest as I tells you-all, gents!' says Jack Moore a heapdisgusted, when Colonel Sterett gets through. 'This yere Davis is aimposter. Which thar's no mortal sport could know as little as helets 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 Enrightan' the New York Store aims to send over to Tucson a roll of moneythe 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 nosech riches bein' freighted over slap on the heels of this yererobbery. An' we don't aim to put up no gyards alongside of Old Monteneither. 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 oftreasure aboard. '

"It's in this way Enright fills that Davis as full of misinformationas a bottle of rum. Also, we deems it some signif'cant when saidshorthorn 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' usgood-bye plenty cheerful, 'but I'll be back among you-all sports ina week. I likes your ways a whole lot, an' I wants to learn 'emsome. '

"'Which I offers four to one, ' says Jack Moore, lookin' after him ashe rides away, 'you'll be back yere sooner than that, an' you-allwon't know it none, at that. '

"It's the next day when the stage starts; Old Monte is crackin' hiswhip in a hardened way, carin' nothin' for road agents as long asthey don't interfere with the licker traffic. Thar's only onepassenger. 

"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 atrio of hold-ups shows on the trail, an' the procession comes to ahalt. Old Monte sets the brake, wrops the reins about it, locks hishands over his head, an' turns in to cuss. The hold-ups takes nonotice. They yanks down the Wells-Fargo chest, pulls off the letterbag, accepts a watch an' a pocket-book from the gent inside, who'sscared an' shiverin' an' scroogin' back in the darkest corner, he'sthat terror-bit, an' then they applies a few epithets to Old Montean' commands him to pull his freight. An' Old Monte shorely obeysthem mandates, an' goes crashin' off up the canyon on the run. 

"Them outlaws hauls the plunder to one side of the trail an' laysfor the mail-bag with a bowie. All three is as busy as prairy dogsafter a rain, rippin' open letters an' lookin' for checks an'drafts. Later they aims at some op'rations on the express company'sbox. 

"But they never gets to the box. Thar's the lively tones of aWinchester which starts the canyon's echoes to talkin'. That rifleain't forty foot away, an' it speaks three times before ever you-all, son, could snap your fingers. An' that weepon don't make themobservations in vain. It ain't firin' no salootes. Quick as is thework, the sights shifts to a new target every time. At the last, allthree 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 thattime. He slides outen the stage as soon as ever it turns the angleof 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 firstremainder shows down as that artless maverick, Davis. Jack lights apine splinter an' looks him over-pale an' dead an' done. 

"'Which you-all is the victim of over-play, ' says Jack to this yereDavis, same as if he hears him, 'If you never asks to see my gunthat time, it's even money my suspicions concernin' you might besleepin' yet. '"