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diff --git a/old/13709-h.zip b/old/13709-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..af181aa --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13709-h.zip diff --git a/old/13709-h/13709-h.htm b/old/13709-h/13709-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4704f14 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13709-h/13709-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9932 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title>Wolfville Nights, by Alfred Lewis</title> + <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" /> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} + .x-small {font-size: 75%;} + .small {font-size: 85%;} + .large {font-size: 115%;} + .x-large {font-size: 130%;} + .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} + .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} + .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} + .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} + .indent25 { margin-left: 25%;} + .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} + .indent35 { margin-left: 35%;} + .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; + font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; + text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; + border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} + .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} + span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} +</style> + </head> + <body> + <pre> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wolfville Nights, by Alfred Lewis + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Wolfville Nights + +Author: Alfred Lewis + +Release Date: October 11, 2004 [EBook #13709] +Last Updated: August 3, 2018 + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCI. *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOLFVILLE NIGHTS *** + + + + +Etext produced by Al Haines + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + WOLFVILLE NIGHTS + </h1> + <h2> + By Alfred Henry Lewis + </h2> + <h3> + 1902 + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> SOME COWBOY FACTS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> WOLFVILLE NIGHTS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. The Dismissal of Silver Phil. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. Colonel Sterett's Panther Hunt, </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. How Faro Nell Dealt Bank. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. How The Raven Died. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. The Queerness of Dave Tutt. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. With the Apache's Compliments. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. The Mills of Savage Gods. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. Tom and Jerry; Wheelers. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. The Influence of Faro Nell. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. The Ghost of the Bar-B-8. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. Tucson Jennie's Correction. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. Bill Connors of the Osages. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. When Tutt first saw Tucson. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. The Troubles of Dan Boggs. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. Bowlegs and Major Ben. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. Toad Allen's Elopement. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. The Clients of Aaron Green. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVII. Colonel Sterett Relates Marvels. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. The Luck of Hardrobe. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. Colonel Coyote Clubbs. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. Long Ago on the Rio Grande. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_TOC" id="link2H_TOC"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <p> + To + </p> + <p> + William Greene Sterett + </p> + <p> + this volume is + </p> + <p> + inscribed. + </p> + <h3> + NEW YORK CITY, + </h3> + <p> + August 1, 1902 + </p> + <h3> + MY DEAR STERETT:— + </h3> + <p> + In offering this book to you I might have advantage of the occasion to + express my friendship and declare how high I hold you as a journalist and + a man. Or I might speak of those years at Washington when in the gallery + we worked shoulder to shoulder; I might recall to you the wit of Hannum, + or remind you of the darkling Barrett, the mighty Decker, the excellent + Cohen, the vivid Brown, the imaginative Miller, the volatile Angus, the + epigrammatic Merrick, the quietly satirical Splain, Rouzer the earnest, + Boynton the energetic, Carson the eminent, and Dunnell, famous for a + bitter, frank integrity. I might remember that day when the gifted + Fanciulli, with no more delicate inspiration than crackers, onions, and + cheese, and no more splendid conservatory than Shoemaker's, wrote, played + and consecrated to you his famous "Lone Star March" wherewith he so + disquieted the public present of the next concert in the White House + grounds. Or I might hark back to the campaign of '92, when together we + struggled against national politics as evinced in the city of New York; I + might repaint that election night when, with one hundred thousand whirling + dervishes of democracy in Madison Square, dancing dances, and singing + songs of victory, we undertook through the hubbub to send from the + "Twenty-third street telegraph office" half-hourly bulletins to our papers + in the West; how you, accompanied of the dignified Richard Bright, went + often to the Fifth Avenue Hotel; and how at last you dictated your + bulletins—a sort of triumphant blank verse, they were—as + Homeric of spirit as lofty of phrase—to me, who caught them as they + came from your lips, losing none of their fire, and so flashed them all + burning into Texas, far away. But of what avail would be such recount? + Distance separates us and time has come between. Those are the old years, + these are the new, with newer years beyond. Life like a sea is filling + from rivers of experience. Forgetfulness rises as a tide and creeps upward + to drown within us those stories of the days that were. And because this + is true, it comes to me that you as a memory must stand tallest in the + midst of my regard. For of you I find within me no forgetfulness. I have + met others; they came, they tarried, they departed. They came again; and + on this second encounter the recollection of their existences smote upon + me as a surprise. I had forgotten them as though they had not been. But + such is not your tale. Drawn on the plates of memory, as with a tool of + diamond, I carry you both in broadest outline and in each least of shade; + and there hangs no picture in the gallery of hours gone, to which I turn + with more of pleasure and of good. Nor am I alone in my recollection. Do I + pass through the Fifth Avenue Hotel on my way to the Hoffman, that + vandyked dispenser leans pleasantly across his counter, to ask with + deepest interest: "Do you hear from the Old Man now?" Or am I belated in + Shanley's, a beaming ring of waiters—if it be not an hour overrun of + custom—will half-circle my table, and the boldest, "Pat," will + question timidly, yet with a kindly Galway warmth: "How's the Old Man?" + Old Man! That is your title: at once dignified and affectionate; and by it + you come often to be referred to along Broadway these ten years after its + conference. And when the latest word is uttered what is there more to + fame! I shall hold myself fortunate, indeed, if, departing, I'm remembered + by half so many half so long. But wherefore extend ourselves regretfully? + We may meet again; the game is not played out. Pending such bright chance, + I dedicate this book to you. It is the most of honour that lies in my lean + power. And in so doing, I am almost moved to say, as said Goldsmith of + Johnson in his offering of <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i>: "By inscribing + this slight performance to you, I do not mean to so much compliment you as + myself. It may do me some honour to inform the public that I have lived + many years in intimacy with you. It may serve the interests of mankind + also to inform them that the greatest wit may be found in a character + without impairing the most unaffected piety." I repeat, I am all but moved + to write these lines of you. It would tell my case at least; and while + description might limp in so far as you lack somewhat of that snuffle of + "true piety" so often engaging the Johnsonian nose, you make up the defect + with possession of a wider philosophy, a better humour and a brighter, + quicker wit than visited or dwelt beneath the candle-scorched wig of our + old bully lexicographer. + </p> + <h3> + ALFRED HENRY LEWIS. + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SOME COWBOY FACTS. + </h2> + <p> + There are certain truths of a botanical character that are not generally + known. Each year the trees in their occupation creep further west. There + are regions in Missouri—not bottom lands—which sixty years ago + were bald and bare of trees. Today they are heavy with timber. Westward, + beyond the trees, lie the prairies, and beyond the prairies, the plains; + the first are green with long grasses, the latter bare, brown and with a + crisp, scorched, sparse vesture of vegetation scarce worth the name. As + the trees march slowly westward in conquest of the prairies, so also do + the prairies, in their verdant turn, become aggressors and push westward + upon the plains. These last stretches, extending to the base of that bluff + and sudden bulwark, the Rocky Mountains, can go no further. The Rockies + hold the plains at bay and break, as it were, the teeth of the desert. As + a result of this warfare of vegetations, the plains are to first disappear + in favour of the prairies; and the prairies to give way before the trees. + These mutations all wait on rain; and as the rain belt goes ever and ever + westward, a strip of plains each year surrenders its aridity, and the + prairies and then the trees press on and take new ground. + </p> + <p> + These facts should contain some virtue of interest; the more since with + the changes chronicled, come also changes in the character of both the + inhabitants and the employments of these regions. With a civilised people + extending themselves over new lands, cattle form ever the advance guard. + Then come the farms. This is the procession of a civilised, peaceful + invasion; thus is the column marshalled. First, the pastoral; next, the + agricultural; third and last, the manufacturing;—and per + consequence, the big cities, where the treasure chests of a race are kept. + Blood and bone and muscle and heart are to the front; and the money that + steadies and stays and protects and repays them and their efforts, to the + rear. + </p> + <p> + Forty years ago about all that took place west of the Mississipi of a + money-making character was born of cattle. The cattle were worked in huge + herds and, like the buffalo supplanted by them, roamed in unnumbered + thousands. In a pre-railroad period, cattle were killed for their hides + and tallow, and smart Yankee coasters went constantly to such ports as + Galveston for these cargoes. The beef was left to the coyotes. + </p> + <p> + Cattle find a natural theatre of existence on the plains. There, likewise, + flourishes the pastoral man. But cattle herding, confined to the plains, + gives way before the westward creep of agriculture. Each year beholds more + western acres broken by the plough; each year witnesses a diminution of + the cattle ranges and cattle herding. This need ring no bell of alarm + concerning a future barren of a beef supply. More cattle are the product + of the farm-regions than of the ranges. That ground, once range and now + farm, raises more cattle now than then. Texas is a great cattle State. + Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, and Missouri are first States of + agriculture. The area of Texas is about even with the collected area of + the other five. Yet one finds double the number of cattle in Ohio, + Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, and Missouri than in Texas, to say nothing of + tenfold the sheep and hogs. No; one may be calm; one is not to fall a prey + to any hunger of beef. + </p> + <p> + While the farms in their westward pushing do not diminish the cattle, they + reduce the cattleman and pinch off much that is romantic and picturesque. + Between the farm and the wire fence, the cowboy, as once he flourished, + has been modified, subdued, and made partially to disappear. In the good + old days of the Jones and Plummer trail there were no wire fences, and the + sullen farmer had not yet arrived. Your cowboy at that time was a person + of thrill and consequence. He wore a broad-brimmed Stetson hat, and all + about it a rattlesnake skin by way of band, retaining head and rattles. + This was to be potent against headaches—a malady, by the way, which + swept down no cowboy save in hours emergent of a spree. In such case the + snake cure didn't cure. The hat was retained in defiance of winds, by a + leathern cord caught about the back of the head, not under the chin. This + cord was beautiful with a garniture of three or four perforated poker + chips, red, yellow, and blue. + </p> + <p> + There are sundry angles of costume where the dandyism of a cowboy of + spirit and conceit may acquit itself; these are hatband, spurs, saddle, + and leggins. I've seen hatbands made of braided gold and silver filigree; + they were from Santa Fe, and always in the form of a rattlesnake, with + rubies or emeralds or diamonds for eyes. Such gauds would cost from four + hundred to two thousand dollars. Also, I've encountered a saddle which + depleted its proud owner a round twenty-five hundred dollars. It was of + finest Spanish leather, stamped and spattered with gold bosses. There was + gold-capping on the saddle horn, and again on the circle of the cantle. It + was a dream of a saddle, made at Paso del Norte; and the owner had it + cinched upon a bronco dear at twenty dollars. One couldn't have sold the + pony for a stack of white chips in any faro game of that neighbourhood + (Las Vegas) and they were all crooked games at that. + </p> + <p> + Your cowboy dandy frequently wears wrought steel spurs, inlaid with silver + and gold; price, anything you please. If he flourish a true Brummel of the + plains his leggins will be fronted from instep to belt with the thick + pelt, hair outside, of a Newfoundland dog. These "chapps," are meant to + protect the cowboy from rain and cold, as well as plum bushes, wire fences + and other obstacles inimical, and against which he may lunge while riding + headlong in the dark. The hair of the Newfoundland, thick and long and + laid the right way, defies the rains; and your cowboy loathes water. + </p> + <p> + Save in those four cardinals of vanity enumerated, your cowboy wears + nothing from weakness; the rest of his outfit is legitimate. The long + sharp heels of his boots are there to dig into the ground and hold fast to + his mother earth while roping on foot. His gay pony when "roped" of a + frosty morning would skate him all across and about the plains if it were + not for these heels. The buckskin gloves tied in one of the saddle strings + are used when roping, and to keep the half-inch manila lariat—or + mayhap it's horsehair or rawhide pleated—from burning his hands. The + red silken sash one was wont aforetime to see knotted about his waist, was + used to hogtie and hold down the big cattle when roped and thrown. The + sash—strong, soft and close—could be tied more tightly, + quickly, surely than anything besides. In these days, with wire pastures + and branding pens and the fine certainty of modern round-ups and a + consequent paucity of mavericks, big cattle are seldom roped; wherefor the + sash has been much cast aside. + </p> + <p> + The saddle-bags or "war-bags,"—also covered of dogskin to match the + leggins, and worn behind, not forward of the rider—are the cowboy's + official wardrobe wherein he carries his second suit of underclothes, and + his other shirt. His handkerchief, red cotton, is loosely knotted about + the cowboy's neck, knot to the rear. He wipes the sweat from his brow + therewith on those hot Texas days when in a branding pen he "flanks" + calves or feeds the fires or handles the irons or stands off the horned + indignation of the cows, resentful because of burned and bawling + offspring. + </p> + <p> + It would take two hundred thousand words to tell in half fashion the story + of the cowboy. His religion of fatalism, his courage, his rides at full + swing in midnight darkness to head and turn and hold a herd stampeded, + when a slip on the storm-soaked grass by his unshod pony, or a misplaced + prairie-dog hole, means a tumble, and a tumble means that a hundred and + fifty thousand dollars worth of cattle, with hoofs like chopping knives, + will run over him and make him look and feel and become as dead as a + cancelled postage stamp; his troubles, his joys, his soberness in camp, + his drunkenness in town, and his feuds and occasional "gun plays" are not + to be disposed of in a preface. One cannot in such cramped space so much + as hit the high places in a cowboy career. + </p> + <p> + At work on the range and about his camp—for, bar accidents, wherever + you find a cowboy you will find a camp—the cowboy is a youth of + sober quiet dignity. There is a deal of deep politeness and nothing of + epithet, insult or horseplay where everybody wears a gun. + </p> + <p> + There are no folk inquisitive on the ranges. No one asks your name. If + driven by stress of conversation to something akin to it the cowboy will + say: "What may I call you, sir?" And he's as careful to add the "sir," as + he is to expect it in return. + </p> + <p> + You are at liberty to select what name you prefer. Where you hail from? + where going? why? are queries never put. To look at the brand on your pony—you, + a stranger—is a dangerous vulgarity to which no gentleman of the + Panhandle or any other region of pure southwestern politeness would stoop. + And if you wish to arouse an instant combination of hate, suspicion and + contempt in the bosom of a cowboy you have but to stretch forth your + artless Eastern hand and ask: "Let me look at your gun." + </p> + <p> + Cowboys on the range or in the town are excessively clannish. They never + desert each other, but stay and fight and die and storm a jail and shoot a + sheriff if needs press, to rescue a comrade made captive in their company. + Also they care for each other when sick or injured, and set one another's + bones when broken in the falls and tumbles of their craft. On the range + the cowboy is quiet, just and peaceable. There are neither women nor cards + nor rum about the cow camps. The ranches and the boys themselves banish + the two latter; and the first won't come. Women, cards and whiskey, the + three war causes of the West, are confined to the towns. + </p> + <p> + Those occasions when cattle are shipped and the beef-herds, per + consequence, driven to the shipping point become the only times when the + cowboy sees the town. In such hours he blooms and lives fully up to his + opportunity. He has travelled perhaps two hundred miles and has been + twenty days on the trail, for cattle may only be driven about ten miles a + day; he has been up day and night and slept half the time in the saddle; + he has made himself hoarse singing "Sam Bass" and "The Dying Ranger" to + keep the cattle quiet and stave off stampedes; he has ridden ten ponies to + shadows in his twenty days of driving, wherefore, and naturally, your + cowboy feels like relaxing. + </p> + <p> + There would be as many as ten men with each beef-herd; and the herd would + include about five thousand head. There would be six "riders," divided + into three watches to stand night guard over the herd and drive it through + the day; there would be two "hoss hustlers," to hold the eighty or ninety + ponies, turn and turn about, and carry them along with the herd; there + would be the cook, with four mules and the chuck wagon; and lastly there + would be the herd-boss, a cow expert he, and at the head of the business. + </p> + <p> + Once the herd is off his hands and his mind at the end of the drive, the + cowboy unbuckles and reposes himself from his labours. He becomes deeply + and famously drunk. Hungering for the excitement of play he collides + amiably with faro and monte and what other deadfalls are rife of the + place. Never does he win; for the games aren't arranged that way. But he + enjoys himself; and his losses do not prey on him. + </p> + <p> + Sated with faro bank and monte—they can't be called games of chance, + the only games of chance occurring when cowboys engage with each other at + billiards or pool—sated, I say, with faro and Mexican monte, and + exuberant of rum, which last has regular quick renewal, our cowboy will + stagger to his pony, swing into the saddle, and with gladsome whoops and + an occasional outburst from his six shooter directed toward the heavens, + charge up and down the street. This last amusement appeals mightily to + cowboys too drunk to walk. For, be it known, a gentleman may ride long + after he may not walk. + </p> + <p> + If a theatre be in action and mayhap a troop of "Red Stocking Blondes," + elevating the drama therein, the cowboy is sure to attend. Also he will + arrive with his lariat wound about his body under his coat; and his place + will be the front row. At some engaging crisis, such as the "March of the + Amazons," having first privily unwound and organised his lariat to that + end, he will arise and "rope" an Amazon. This will produce bad language + from the manager of the show, and compel the lady to sit upon the stage to + the detriment of her wardrobe if no worse, and all to keep from being + pulled across the footlights. Yet the exercise gives the cowboy deepest + pleasure. Having thus distinguished the lady of his admiration, later he + will meet her and escort her to the local dancehall. There, mingling with + their frank companions, the two will drink, and loosen the boards of the + floor with the strenuous dances of our frontier till daylight does appear. + </p> + <p> + For the matter of a week, or perchance two—it depends on how fast + his money melts—in these fashions will our gentleman of cows engage + his hours and expand himself. He will make a deal of noise, drink a deal + of whiskey, acquire a deal of what he terms "action"; but he harms nobody, + and, in a town toughened to his racket and which needs and gets his money, + disturbs nobody. + </p> + <p> + "Let him whoop it up; he's paying for it, ain't he?" will be the prompt + local retort to any inquiry as to why he is thus permitted to disport. + </p> + <p> + So long as the cowboy observes the etiquette of the town, he will not be + molested or "called down" by marshal or sheriff or citizen. There are four + things your cowboy must not do. He must not insult a woman; he must not + shoot his pistol in a store or bar-room; he must not ride his pony into + those places of resort; and as a last proposal he must not ride his pony + on the sidewalks. Shooting or riding into bar-rooms is reckoned as + dangerous; riding on the sidewalk comes more under the head of insult, and + is popularly regarded as a taunting defiance of the town marshal. On such + occasions the marshal never fails to respond, and the cowboy is called + upon to surrender. If he complies, which to the credit of his horse-sense + he commonly does, he is led into brief captivity to be made loose when + cooled. Does he resist arrest, there is an explosive rattle of six + shooters, a mad scattering of the careful citizenry out of lines of fire, + and a cowboy or marshal is added to the host beyond. At the close of the + festival, if the marshal still lives he is congratulated; if the cowboy + survives he is lynched; if both fall, they are buried with the honours of + frontier war; while whatever the event, the communal ripple is but slight + and only of the moment, following which the currents of Western existence + sweep easily and calmly onward as before. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A. H. L. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WOLFVILLE NIGHTS + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. The Dismissal of Silver Phil. + </h2> + <p> + "His name, complete, is 'Silver City Philip.' In them social observances + of the Southwest wherein haste is a feacher an' brev'ty the bull's eye + aimed at, said cognomen gets shortened to 'Silver Phil.'" + </p> + <p> + The Old Cattleman looked thoughtfully into his glass, as if by that method + he collected the scattered elements of a story. There was a pause; then he + lifted the glass to his lips as one who being now evenly equipped of + information, proposed that it arrive hand in hand with the inspiration + which should build a tale from it. + </p> + <p> + "Shore, this Silver Phil is dead now; an' I never yet crosses up with the + gent who's that sooperfluous as to express regrets. It's Dan Boggs who + dismisses Silver Phil; Dan does it in efforts he puts forth to faithfully + represent the right. + </p> + <p> + "Doc Peets allers allows this Silver Phil is a 'degen'rate;' leastwise + that's the word Peets uses. An' while I freely concedes I ain't none too + cl'ar as to jest what a degen'rate is, I stands ready to back Peets' + deescription to win. Peets is, bar Colonel William Greene Sterett, the + best eddicated sharp in Arizona; also the wariest as to expressin' views. + Tharfore when Peets puts it up, onflinchin', that this yere Silver Phil's + a degen'rate, you-all can spread your blankets an' go to sleep on it that + a degen'rate he is. + </p> + <p> + "Silver Phil is a little, dark, ignorant, tousled-ha'red party, none too + neat in costume. He's as black an' small an' evil-seemin' as a Mexican; + still, you sees at a glance he ain't no Greaser neither. An' with all this + yere surface wickedness, Silver Phil has a quick, hyster'cal way like a + woman or a bird; an' that's ever a grin on his face. You can smell 'bad' + off Silver Phil, like smoke in a house, an' folks who's on the level—an' + most folks is—conceives a notion ag'in him the moment him an' they + meets up. + </p> + <p> + "The first time I observes Silver Phil, he's walkin' down the licker room + of the Red Light. As he goes by the bar, Black Jack—who's + rearrangin' the nosepaint on the shelf so it shows to advantage—gets + careless an' drops a bottle. + </p> + <p> + "'Crash!' it goes onto the floor. + </p> + <p> + "With the sound, an' the onexpected suddenness of it stampedin' his + nerves, that a-way, Silver Phil leaps into the air like a cat; an' when he + 'lights, he's frontin' Black Jack an' a gun in each hand. + </p> + <p> + "'Which I won't be took!' says Silver Phil, all flustered. + </p> + <p> + "His eyes is gleamin' an' his face is palin' an' his ugly grin gets even + uglier than before. But like a flash, he sees thar's nothin' to go in the + air about—nothin' that means him; an' he puts up his hardware an' + composes himse'f. + </p> + <p> + "'You-all conducts yourse'f like a sport who has something on his mind,' + says Texas Thompson, who's thar present at the time, an' can't refrain + from commentin' on the start that bottle-smashin' gives Silver Phil. + </p> + <p> + "This Silver Phil makes no response, but sort o' grins plenty ghastly, + while his breath comes quick. + </p> + <p> + "Still, while you-all notes easy that this person's scared, it's plain + he's a killer jest the same. It's frequent that a-way. I'm never much + afraid of one of your cold game gents like Cherokee Hall; you can gamble + the limit they'll never put a six-shooter in play till it's shorely come + their turn. But timid, feverish, locoed people, whose jedgment is bad an' + who's prone to feel themse'fs in peril; they're the kind who kills. For + myse'f I shuns all sech. I won't say them erratic, quick-to-kill sports + don't have courage; only it strikes me—an' I've rode up on a heap of + 'em—it's more like a fear-bit f'rocity than sand. + </p> + <p> + "Take Enright or Peets or Cherokee or Tutt or Jack Moore or Boggs or Texas + Thompson; you're plumb safe with sech gents—all or any. An' yet thar + ain't the first glimmer of bein' gun-shy about one of 'em; they're as + clean strain as the eternal granite, an' no more likely to hide out from + danger than a hill. An' while they differs from each other, yet they're + all different from sech folks as Silver Phil. Boggs, goin' to war, is full + of good-humoured grandeur, gala and confident, ready to start or stop like + a good hoss. Cherokee Hall is quiet an' wordless; he gets pale, but sharp + an' deadly; an' his notion is to fight for a finish. Peets is haughty an' + sooperior on the few o'casions when he onbends in battle, an' comports + himse'f like a gent who fights downhill; the same, ondoubted, bein' doo to + them book advantages of Peets which elevates him an' lifts him above the + common herd a whole lot. Enright who's oldest is of course slowest to + embark in blood, an' pulls his weepons—when he does pull 'em—with + sorrowful resignation. + </p> + <p> + "'Which I'm shorely saddest when I shoots,' says Enright to me, as he + reloads his gun one time. + </p> + <p> + "These yere humane sentiments, however, don't deter him from shootin' soon + an' aimin' low, which latter habits makes Wolfville's honoured chief a + highly desp'rate game to get ag'inst. + </p> + <p> + "Jack Moore, bein' as I explains former, the execyootive of the + Stranglers, an' responsible for law an' order, has a heap of shootin' + shoved onto him from time to time. Jack allers transacts these fireworks + with a ca'm, offishul front, the same bein' devoid, equal, of anger or + regrets. Tutt, partic'lar after he weds Tucson Jennie, an' more partic'lar + still when he reaps new honours as the originator of that blessed infant + Enright Peets Tutt, carries on what shootin' comes his way in a manner a + lot dignified an' lofty; while Texas Thompson—who's mebby morbid + about his wife down in Laredo demandin' she be divorced that time—although + he picks up his hand in a fracas, ready an' irritable an' with no delays, + after all is that well-balanced he's bound to be each time plumb right. + </p> + <p> + "Which, you observes, son, from these yere settin's forth, that thar's a + mighty sight of difference between gents like them pards of mine an' + degen'rates of the tribe of Silver Phil. It's the difference between right + an' wrong; one works from a impulse of pure jestice, the other is moved of + a sperit of crime; an' thar you be. + </p> + <p> + "Silver Phil, we learns later—an' it shore jestifies Peets in his + theories about him bein' a degen'rate—has been in plenty of blood. + But allers like a cat; savage, gore-thirsty, yet shy, prideless, an' ready + to fly. It seems he begins to be homicidal in a humble way by downin' a + trooper over near Fort Cummings. That's four years before he visits us. + He's been blazin' away intermittent ever since, and allers crooel, crafty + an' safe. It's got to be a shore thing or Silver Phil quits an' goes into + the water like a mink. + </p> + <p> + "This yere ondersized miscreant ain't ha'nted about Wolfville more'n four + days before he shows how onnecessary he is to our success. Which he works + a ha'r copper on Cherokee Hall. What's a ha'r copper? I'll onfold, short + and terse, what Silver Phil does, an' then you saveys. Cherokee's dealin' + his game—farobank she is; an' if all them national banks conducts + themse'fs as squar' as that enterprise of Cherokee's, the fields of + finance would be as safely honest as a church. Cherokee's turnin' his game + one evenin'; Faro Nell on the lookout stool where she belongs. Silver Phil + drifts up to the lay-out, an' camps over back of the king-end. He gets + chips, an' goes to takin' chances alternate on the king, queen, jack, ten; + all side an' side they be. Cherokee bein' squar' himse'f ain't over-prone + to expect a devious play in others. He don't notice this Silver Phil none + speshul, an' shoves the kyards. + </p> + <p> + "Silver Phil wins three or four bets; it's Nell that catches on to his + racket, an' signs up to Cherokee onder the table with her little foot. One + glance an' Cherokee is loaded with information. This Silver Phil, it + seems, in a sperit of avarice, equips himse'f with a copper—little + wooden checker, is what this copper is—one he's done filched from + Cherokee the day prior. He's fastened a long black hoss-ha'r to it, an' he + ties the other end of the hoss-ha'r to his belt in front. This ha'r is + long enough as he's planted at the table that a-way, so it reaches nice to + them four nearest kyards,—the king, queen, jack, ten. An' said ha'r + is plumb invisible except to eyes as sharp as Faro Nell's. The deceitful + Silver Phil will have a stack on one of 'em, coppered with this yere ha'r + copper. He watches the box. As the turns is made, if the kyards come his + way, well an' good. Silver Phil does nothin' but garners in results. When + the kyards start to show ag'in him, however, that's different. In sech + events Silver Phil draws in his breath, sort o' takin' in on the + hoss-ha'r, an' the copper comes off the bet. When the turn is made, thar's + Silver Phil's bet—by virchoo of said fraud—open an' triumphant + an' waitin' to be paid. + </p> + <p> + "Cherokee gets posted quick an with a look. As sharp as winkin' Cherokee + has a nine-inch bowie in his hand an' with one slash cuts the hoss-ha'r + clost up by Silver Phil's belt. + </p> + <p> + "'That's a yoonique invention!" observes Cherokee, an' he's sarcastic + while he menaces with the knife at Silver Phil; 'that contraption is + shorely plenty sagacious! But it don't go here. Shove in your chips.' + Silver Phil obeys: an' he shows furtive, ugly, an' alarmed, an' all of 'em + at once. He don't say a word. 'Now pull your freight,' concloods Cherokee. + 'If you ever drifts within ten foot of a game of mine ag'in I'll throw + this knife plumb through you—through an' through.' An' Cherokee, by + way of lustration lets fly the knife across the bar-room. It comes like a + flash. + </p> + <p> + "'Chuck!' + </p> + <p> + "Thar's a picture paper pasted onto the wooden wall of the Red Light, + displayin' the liniaments of some party. That bowie pierces the picture—a + shot in the cross it is—an' all with sech fervour that the p'int of + the blade shows a inch an' a half on the other side of that individyool + board. + </p> + <p> + "'The next time I throws a knife in your presence,' remarks Cherokee to + Silver Phil, an' Cherokee's as cold an' p'isonous as a rattlesnake, 'it'll + be la'nched at you.' + </p> + <p> + "Silver Phil don't say nothin' in retort. He's aware by the lib'ral way + Cherokee sep'rates himse'f from the bowie that said weepon can't + constitoote Cherokee's entire armament. An' as Silver Phil don't pack the + sperit to face no sech flashlight warrior, he acts on Cherokee's hint to + <i>vamos</i>, an fades into the street. Shore, Cherokee don't cash the + felon's chips none; he confiscates 'em. Cherokee ain't quite so tenderly + romantic as to make good to a detected robber. Moreover, he lets this + Silver Phil go onharmed when by every roole his skelp is forfeit. It turns + out good for the camp, however, as this yere experience proves so + depressin' to Silver Phil he removes his blankets to Red Dog. Thar among + them purblind tarrapins, its inhabitants, it's likely he gets prosperous + an' ondetected action on that little old ha'r copper of his. + </p> + <p> + "It's not only my beliefs, but likewise the opinions of sech joodicial + sports as Enright, Peets, an' Colonel Sterett, that this maverick, Silver + Phil, is all sorts of a crim'nal. An' I wouldn't wonder if he's a pure + rustler that a-way; as ready to stand up a stage as snake a play at + farobank. This idee settles down on the Wolfville intell'gence on the + heels of a vicissitoode wherein Dan Boggs performs, an' which gets pulled + off over in the Bird Cage Op'ry House. Jack Moore ain't thar none that + time. Usual, Jack is a constant deevotee of the dramy. Jack's not only a + first-nighter, he comes mighty clost to bein' a every-nighter. But this + partic'lar evenin' when Boggs performs, Jack's rummagin' about some'ers + else. + </p> + <p> + "If Jack's thar, it's even money he'd a-had that second shot instead of + Boggs; in which event, the results might have been something graver than + this yere minoote wound which Boggs confers. I'm confident Jack would have + cut in with the second shot for sech is his offishul system. Jack more'n + once proclaims his position. + </p> + <p> + "'By every roole of law,' says Jack at epocks when he declar's himse'f, + 'an' on all o'casions, I, as kettle-tender to the Stranglers, is entitled + to the first shot. When I uses the term 'o'casion,' I would be onderstood + as alloodin' to affairs of a simply social kind, an' not to robberies, + hold-ups, hoss-larcenies, an' other an' sim'lar transactions in spec'latif + crime when every gent defends his own. Speakin' social, however, I + reasserts that by every roole of guidance, I'm entitled to the first shot. + Which a doo regyard for these plain rights of mine would go far to freein' + Wolfville upper circles of the bullets which occurs from time to time, an' + which even the most onconventional admits is shore a draw-back. All I can + add as a closer,' concloods Jack, 'is that I'll make haste to open on any + sport who transgresses these fiats an' goes to shootin' first. Moreover, + it's likely that said offender finds that when I'm started once, what I + misses in the orig'nal deal I'll make up in the draw, an' I tharfore + trusts that none will prove so sooicidal as to put me to the test.' + </p> + <p> + "This Bird Cage Op'ry House evenin', however, Jack is absent a heap. Dan + Boggs is present, an' is leanin' back appreciatin' the show an' the Valley + Tan plenty impartial. Dan likes both an' is doin' 'em even jestice. Over + opp'site to Dan is a drunken passel of sports from Red Dog, said wretched + hamlet bein' behind Wolfville in that as in all things else an' not ownin' + no op'ry house. + </p> + <p> + "As the evenin' proceeds—it's about sixth drink time—a + casyooal gun goes off over among the Red Dog outfit, an' the lead tharfrom + bores a hole in the wall clost to Dan's y'ear. Nacherally Dan don't like + it. The show sort o' comes to a balk, an' takin' advantages of the lull + Dan arises in a listless way an' addresses the Red Dogs. + </p> + <p> + "'I merely desires to inquire,' says Dan 'whether that shot is + inadvertent; or is it a mark of innocent joobilation an' approval of the + show; or is it meant personal to me?' + </p> + <p> + "'You can bet your moccasins!' shouts one of the Red Dog delegation, + 'thar's no good fellowship with that gun-play. That shot's formal an' + serious an' goes as it lays.' + </p> + <p> + "'My mind bein' now cl'ar on the subject of motive,' says Dan; 'the proper + course is plain.'" + </p> + <p> + With this retort Dan slams away gen'ral—shoots into the flock like—at + the picnickers from Red Dog, an' a party who's plenty drunk an' has his + feet piled up on a table goes shy his off big toe. + </p> + <p> + "As I remarks yeretofore it's as well Jack Moore ain't thar. Jack would + have corralled something more momentous than a toe. Which Jack would have + been shootin' in his capac'ty as marshal, an' couldn't onder sech + circumstances have stooped to toes. But it's different with Dan. He is + present private an' only idlin' 'round; an' he ain't driven to take high + ground. More partic'lar since Dan's playin' a return game in the nacher of + reproofs an' merely to resent the onlicensed liberties which Red Dog takes + with him, Dan, as I says, is free to accept toes if he so decides. + </p> + <p> + "When Dan busts this yere inebriate, the victim lams loose a yell ag'inst + which a coyote would protest. That sot thinks he's shore killed. What with + the scare an' the pain an' the nosepaint, an' regyardin' of himse'f as + right then flutterin' about the rim of eternity, he gets seized with + remorse an' allows he's out to confess his sins before he quits. As thar's + no sky pilot to confide in, this drunkard figgers that Peets 'll do, an' + with that he onloads on Peets how, bein' as he is a stage book-keep over + in Red Dog, he's in cahoots with a outfit of route agents an' gives 'em + the word when it's worth while to stand-up the stage. An' among other + crim'nal pards of his this terrified person names that outlaw Silver Phil. + Shore, when he rounds to an' learns it ain't nothin' but a toe, this + party's chagrined to death. + </p> + <p> + "This yere confidin' sport's arrested an' taken some'ers—Prescott + mebby—to be tried in a shore-enough co't for the robberies; the Red + Dog Stranglers not bein' game to butt in an' hang him a lot themse'fs. + They surrenders him to the marshal who rides over for him; an' they would + have turned out Silver Phil, too, only that small black outcast don't + wait, but goes squanderin' off to onknown climes the moment he hears the + news. He's vamoosed Red Dog before this penitent bookkeep ceases yelpin' + an' sobbin' over his absent toe. + </p> + <p> + "It ain't no time, however, before we hears further of Silver Phil; that + is, by way of roomer. It looks like a couple of big cow outfits some'ers + in the San Simon country—they're the 'Three-D' an' the 'K-in-a-box' + brands—takes first to stealin' each, other's cattle, an', final, + goes to war. Each side retains bands of murderers an' proceeds buoyantly + to lay for one another. Which Silver Phil enlists with the 'Three-D' an' + sneaks an' prowls an' bushwhacks an' shoots himse'f into more or less + bloody an' ignoble prom'nence. At last the main war-chiefs of the + Territory declar's themse'fs in on the riot an' chases both sides into the + hills; an' among other excellent deeds they makes captive Silver Phil. + </p> + <p> + "It's a great error they don't string this Silver Phil instanter. But no; + after the procrastinatin' fashion of real law, they permits the villain—who's + no more use on the surface of Arizona that a-way than one of them + hydrophoby polecats whose bite is death—to get a law sharp to plead + an' call for a show-down before a jedge an' jury. It takes days to try + Silver Phil, an' marshals an' sheriff gents is two weeks squanderin' about + gettin' witnesses; an' all to as much trouble an' loss of time an' dinero + as would suffice to round-up the cattle of Cochise county. Enright an' the + Stranglers would have turned the trick in twenty minutes an' never left + the New York Store ontil with Silver Phil an' a lariat they reepairs to + the windmill to put the finishin' touches on their lucoobrations. + </p> + <p> + "Still, dooms slow an' shiftless as they shore be, at the wind-up Silver + Phil's found guilty, an' is put in nom'nation by the presidin' alcade to + be hanged; the time bein' set in a crazy-hoss fashion for a month away. As + Silver Phil—which he's that bad an' hard he comes mighty clost to + bein; game—is leavin' the co't-room with the marshal who's ridin' + herd on him, he says: + </p> + <p> + "'I ain't payin' much attention at the time,'—Silver Phil's talkin' + to that marshal gent,—'bein' I'm thinkin' of something else, but do + I onderstand that old grey sport on the bench to say you-all is to hang me + next month?' + </p> + <p> + "'That's whatever!' assents this marshal gent, 'an' you can gamble a bloo + stack that hangin' you is a bet we ain't none likely to overlook. Which + we're out to put our whole grateful souls into the dooty.' + </p> + <p> + "'Now I thinks of it,' observes Silver Phil, 'I'm some averse to bein' + hanged. I reckons, speakin' free an' free as between fellow sports, that + in order for that execootion to be a blindin' success I'll have to be thar + personal?' + </p> + <p> + "'It's one of the mighty few o'casions,' responds the marshal, 'when your + absence would shorely dash an' damp the gen'ral joy. As you says, you'll + have to be thar a heap personal when said hangin' occurs.' + </p> + <p> + "'I'm mighty sorry,' says Silver Phil, 'that you-all lays out your game in + a fashion that so much depends on me. The more so, since the longer I + considers this racket, the less likely it is I'll be thar. It's almost a + cinch, with the plans I has, that I'll shore be some'ers else.' + </p> + <p> + "They corrals Silver Phil in the one big upper room of a two-story 'doby, + an' counts off a couple of dep'ty marshals to gyard him. These gyards, + comin' squar' down to cases, ain't no improvement, moral, on Silver Phil + himse'f; an' since they're twice his age—Silver Phil not bein' + more'n twenty—it's safe as a play to say that both of 'em oughter + have been hanged a heap before ever Silver Phil is born. These two + hold-ups, however, turns dep'ty marshals in their old age, an' is put in + to stand watch an' watch an' see that Silver Phil don't work loose from + his hobbles an' go pirootin' off ag'in into parts onknown. Silver Phil is + loaded with fetters,—handcuffs an' laig-locks both—an' these + hold-up sentries is armed to the limit. + </p> + <p> + "It's the idee of Doc Peets later, when he hears the details, that if the + gyards that time treats Silver Phil with kindness, the little felon most + likely would have remained to be hanged. But they don't: they abooses + Silver Phil; cussin' him out an' herdin' him about like he's cattle. + They're a evil-tempered couple, them dep'ties, an' they don't give Silver + Phil no sort o' peace. + </p> + <p> + "'As I su'gests yeretofore,' says Doc Peets, when he considers the case, + 'this Silver Phil is a degen'rate. He's like a anamile. He don't entertain + no reg'lar scheme to work free when he waxes sardonic with the marshal; + that's only a bluff. Later, when them gyards takes to maltreatin' him an' + battin' him about, it wakes up the venom in him, an' his cunnin' gets + aroused along with his appetite for revenge.' + </p> + <p> + "This Silver Phil, who's lean an' slim like I explains at the jump, has + hands no bigger than a cat's paws. It ain't no time when he discovers that + by cuttin' himse'f a bit on the irons, he can shuck the handcuffs whenever + he's disposed. Even then, he don't outline no campaign for liberty; jest + sort o' roominates an' waits. + </p> + <p> + "It's one partic'lar mornin', some two weeks after Silver Phil's sentenced + that a-way. The marshal gent himse'f ain't about, bein' on some dooty over + to Tucson. Silver Phil is upsta'rs on the top floor of the 'doby with his + gyards. Which he's hotter than a wildcat; the gyards an' him has been + havin' a cussin' match, an' as Silver Phil outplays 'em talkin', one of + 'em's done whacked him over the skelp with his gun. The blood's tricklin' + down Silver Phil's fore'erd as he sits glowerin'. + </p> + <p> + "One of the gyards is loadin' a ten-gauge Greener—a whole mouthful + of buckshot in each shell. He's grinnin' at Silver Phil as he shoves the + shells in the gun an' slams her shet. + </p> + <p> + "'Which I'm loadin' that weepon for you,' says the gyard, contemplatin' + Silver Phil derisive. + </p> + <p> + "'You be, be you!' replies Silver Phil, his eyes burnin' with rage. 'Which + you better look out a whole lot; you-all may get it yourse'f.' + </p> + <p> + "The gyard laughs ugly an' exasperatin' an' puts the ten-gauge in a locker + along with two or three Winchesters. Then he turns the key on the firearms + an' goes caperin' off to his feed. + </p> + <p> + "The other gyard, his <i>compadre</i>, is settin' on a stool lookin' out a + window. Mebby he's considerin' of his sins. It would be more in his hand + at this time if he thinks of Silver Phil. + </p> + <p> + "Silver Phil, who's full of wrath at the taunts of the departed gyard, + slips his hands free of the irons. Most of the hide on his wrists comes + with 'em, but Silver Phil don't care. The gyard's back is to him as that + gent sits gazin' out an' off along the dusty trail where it winds gray an' + hot toward Tucson. Silver Phil organises, stealthy an' cat-cautious; he's + out for the gyard's gun as it hangs from his belt, the butt all temptin' + an' su'gestive. + </p> + <p> + "As Silver Phil makes his first move the laig-locks clanks. It ain't + louder than the jingle of a brace of copper <i>centouse</i> knockin' + together. It's enough, however; it strikes on the y'ear of that thoughtful + gyard like the roar of a '44. He emerges from his reverie with a start; + the play comes cl'ar as noonday to him in a moment. + </p> + <p> + "The gyard leaps, without even lookin' 'round, to free himse'f from the + clutch of Silver Phil. Which he's the splinter of a second too late. + Silver Phil makes a spring like a mountain lion, laig-locks an' all, an' + grabs the gun. As the gyard goes clatterin' down sta'rs. Silver Phil pumps + two loads into him an' curls him up at the foot. Then Silver Phil hurls + the six-shooter at him with a volley of mal'dictions. + </p> + <p> + "Without pausin' a moment, Silver Phil grabs the stool an' smashes to + flinders the locker that holds the 10-gauge Greener. He ain't forgot none; + an' he's fair locoed to get that partic'lar weepon for the other gyard. He + rips it from the rack an' shows at the window as his prey comes runnin' to + the rescoo of his pard: + </p> + <p> + "'Oh, you! Virg Sanders!' yells Silver Phil. + </p> + <p> + "The second gyard looks up; an' as he does, Silver Phil gives him both + bar'ls. Forty-two buckshot; an' that gyard's so clost he stops 'em all! As + he lays dead, Silver Phil breaks the Greener in two, an' throws, one after + the other, stock an' bar'l at him. + </p> + <p> + "'Which I'll show you-all what happens when folks loads a gun for me!' + says Silver Phil. + </p> + <p> + "Nacherally, this artillery practice turns out the entire plaza. The folks + is standin' about the 'doby which confines Silver Phil, wonderin' whatever + that enthoosiast's goin' to do next. No, they don't come after him, an' + I'll tell you why. Shore, thar's twenty gents lookin' on, any one of whom, + so far as personal apprehensions is involved, would trail Silver Phil + single-handed into a wolf's den. Which he'd feel plumb confident he gets + away with Silver Phil an' the wolves thrown in to even up the odds. Still, + no one stretches forth to capture Silver Phil on this yere voylent + o'casion. An' these is the reasons. Thar's no reg'lar offishul present + whose dooty it is to rope up this Silver Phil. If sech had chanced to be + thar, you can put down a stack he'd come a-runnin', an' him or Silver Phil + would have caught up with the two gyards on their journey into the beyond. + But when it gets down to private people volunteerin' for dooty as + marshals, folks in the Southwest goes some slothful to work. Thar's the + friends of the accoosed—an' as a roole he ain't none friendless—who + would mighty likely resent sech zeal. Also, in the case of Silver Phil, + his captivity grows out of a cattle war. One third the public so far as it + stands about the 'doby where Silver Phil is hived that time is 'Three-D' + adherents, mebby another third is 'K-in-a-box' folks, while the last third + is mighty likely nootral. Whichever way it breaks, however, thar's a tacit + stand-off, an' never a sport of 'em lifts a finger or voice to head off + Silver Phil. + </p> + <p> + "'Which she's the inalien'ble right of Americans onder the constitootion + to escape with every chance they gets,' says one. + </p> + <p> + "'That's whatever!' coincides his pard; 'an' moreover this ain't our + round-up nohow.' + </p> + <p> + "It's in that fashion these private citizens adjusts their dooty to the + state while pausin' to look on, in a sperit of cur'osity while Silver Phil + makes his next play. + </p> + <p> + "They don't wait long. Silver Phil comes out on the roof of a stoop in + front. He's got a Winchester by now, an' promptly throws the muzzle tharof + on a leadin' citizen. Silver Phil allows he'll plug this dignitary if they + don't send up a sport with a file to cut loose the laig-locks. Tharupon + the pop'lace, full of a warm interest by this time, does better. They + gropes about in the war-bags of the Virg Sanders sharp who stops the + buckshot an' gets his keys; a moment after, Silver Phil is free. + </p> + <p> + "Still, this ontirin' hold-up goes on menacin' the leadin' citizen as + former. Which now Silver Phil demands a bronco, bridled an' saddled. He + gives the public ten minutes; if the bronco is absent at the end of ten + minutes Silver Phil allows he'll introdooce about a pound of lead into + where that village father does his cogitating. The bronco appears with six + minutes to spar'. As it arrives, the vivacious Silver Phil jumps off the + roof of the stoop—the same bein' low—an' is in the saddle an' + out o' sight while as practised a hand as Huggins is pourin' out a drink. + Where the trail bends 'round a mesa Silver Phil pulls up. + </p> + <p> + "'Whoop! whoop! whoopee! for Silver Phil,' he shouts. + </p> + <p> + "Then he waves the Winchester, an' as he spurs 'round the corner of the + hill it's the last that spellbound outfit ever sees of Silver Phil. + </p> + <p> + "Nacherally now," remarked my old friend, as he refreshed himself with a + mouthful of scotch, "you-all is waitin' an' tryin' to guess wherever does + Dan Boggs get in on this yere deal. An' it won't take no time to post you; + the same bein' a comfort. + </p> + <p> + "Not one word do we-all wolves of Wolfville hear of the divertin' + adventures of Silver Phil—shootin' up his gyards an' fetchin' + himse'f free—ontil days after. No one in camp has got Silver Phil on + his mind at all; at least if he has he deems him safe an' shore in hock, + a-waitin' to be stretched. Considerin' what follows, I never experiences + trouble in adoptin' Doc Peets' argyments that the eepisodes wherein this + onhappy Silver Phil figgers sort o' aggravates his intellects ontil he's + locoed. + </p> + <p> + "'Bein' this Silver Phil's a degen'rate,' declar's Peets, explanatory, + 'he's easy an' soon to loco. His mind as well as his moral nacher is + onbalanced congenital. Any triflin' jolt, much less than what that Silver + Phil runs up on, an' his fretful wits is shore to leave the saddle. + </p> + <p> + "Now that Silver Phil's free, but loonatic like Peets says, an' doubly + vicious by them tantalisin' gyards, it looks like he thinks of nothin' but + wreckin' reprisals on all who's crossed his trail. An' so with vengeance + eatin' at his crim'nal heart he p'ints that bronco's muzzle straight as a + bird flies for Wolfville. Whoever do you-all reckon now he wants? Cherokee + Hall? Son, you've followed off the wrong waggon track. Silver Phil—imagine + the turpitoode of sech a ornery wretch!—is out for the lovely skelp + of Faro Nell who detects him in his ha'r-copper frauds that time. + </p> + <p> + "Which the first intimations we has of Silver Phil after that escape, is + one evenin' about fifth drink time—or as you-all says 'four + o'clock.' The sun's still hot an' high over in the west. Thar's no game + goin'; but bein' it's as convenient thar as elsewhere an' some cooler, + Cherokee's settin' back of his layout with Faro Nell as usual on her + lookout perch. Dan Boggs is across the street in the dancehall door, an' + his pet best bronco is waitin' saddled in front. Hot an' drowsy; the + street save for these is deserted. + </p> + <p> + "It all takes place in a moment. Thar's a clattering rush; an' then, pony + a-muck with sweat an' alkali dust, Silver Phil shows in the portals of the + Red Light. Thar's a flash an' a spit of white smoke as he fires his + six-shooter straight at Faro Nell. + </p> + <p> + "Silver Phil is quick, but Cherokee is quicker. Cherokee sweeps Faro Nell + from her stool with one motion of his arm an' the bullet that's searchin' + for her lifts Cherokee's ha'r a trifle where he 'most gets his head in its + way. + </p> + <p> + "Ondoubted, this Silver Phil allows he c'llects on Faro Nell as planned. + He don't shoot twice, an' he don't tarry none, but wheels his wearied + pony, gives a yell, an' goes surgin' off. + </p> + <p> + "But Silver Phil's got down to the turn of that evil deal of his + existence. He ain't two hundred yards when Dan Boggs is in the saddle an' + ridin' hard. Dan's bronco runs three foot for every one of the pony of + Silver Phil's; which that beaten an' broken cayouse is eighty miles from + his last mouthful of grass. + </p> + <p> + "As Dan begins to crowd him, Silver Phil turns in the saddle an' shoots. + The lead goes 'way off yonder—wild. Dan, grim an' silent, rides on + without returnin' the fire. + </p> + <p> + "'Which I wouldn't dishonour them guns of mine,' says Dan, explainin' + later the pheenomenon of him not shootin' none, 'which I wouldn't + dishonour them guns by usin' 'em on varmints like this yere Silver Phil.' + </p> + <p> + "As Silver Phil reorganises for a second shot his bronco stumbles. Silver + Phil pitches from the saddle an' strikes the grass to one side. As he half + rises, Dan lowers on him like the swoop of a hawk. It's as though Dan's + goin' to snatch a handkerchief from the ground. + </p> + <p> + "As Dan flashes by, he swings low from the saddle an' his right hand takes + a troo full grip on that outlaw's shoulder. Dan has the thews an' muscles + of a cinnamon b'ar, an' Silver Phil is only a scrap of a man. As Dan + straightens up in the stirrups, he heaves this Silver Phil on high to the + length of his long arm; an' then he dashes him ag'inst the flint-hard + earth; which the manoover—we-all witnesses it from mebby a quarter + of a mile—which the manoover that a-way is shore remorseless! This + Silver Phil is nothin' but shattered bones an' bleedin' pulp. He strikes + the plains like he's crime from the clouds an' is dead without a quiver. + </p> + <p> + "'Bury him? No!' says Old Man Enright to Dave Tutt who asks the question. + 'Let him find his bed where he falls. + </p> + <p> + "While Enright speaks, an' as Dan rides up to us at the Red Light, a + prompt raven drops down over where this Silver Phil is layin'. Then + another raven an' another—black an' wide of wing—comes + floatin' down. A coyote yells—first with the short, sharp yelp, an' + then with that multiplied patter of laughter like forty wolves at once. + That daylight howl of the coyote alters tells of a death. Shore raven an' + wolf is gatherin'. As Enright says: 'This yere Silver Phil ain't likely to + be lonesome none to-night.' + </p> + <p> + "'Did you kill him, Dan?' asks Faro Nell. + </p> + <p> + "'Why, no, Nellie,' replies Dan, as he steps outen the stirrups an' beams + on Faro Nell. She's still a bit onstrung, bein' only a little girl when + all is said. 'Why, no, Nellie; I don't kill him speecific as Wolfville + onderstands the word; but I dismisses him so effectual the kyard shore + falls the same for Silver Phil.'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. Colonel Sterett's Panther Hunt, + </h2> + <p> + "Panthers, what we-all calls 'mountain lions,'" observed the Old + Cattleman, wearing meanwhile the sapient air of him who feels equipped of + his subject, "is plenty furtive, not to say mighty sedyoolous to skulk. + That's why a gent don't meet up with more of 'em while pirootin' about in + the hills. Them cats hears him, or they sees him, an' him still ignorant + tharof; an' with that they bashfully withdraws. Which it's to be urged in + favour of mountain lions that they never forces themse'fs on no gent; + they're shore considerate, that a-way, an' speshul of themse'fs. If one's + ever hurt, you can bet it won't be a accident. However, it ain't for me to + go 'round impugnin' the motives of no mountain lion; partic'lar when the + entire tribe is strangers to me complete. But still a love of trooth + compels me to concede that if mountain lions ain't cowardly, they're shore + cautious a lot. Cattle an' calves they passes up as too bellicose, an' + none of 'em ever faces any anamile more warlike than a baby colt or mebby + a half-grown deer. I'm ridin' along the Caliente once when I hears a + crashin' in the bushes on the bluff above—two hundred foot high, she + is, an' as sheer as the walls of this yere tavern. As I lifts my eyes, a + fear-frenzied mare an' colt comes chargin' up an' projects themse'fs over + the precipice an' lands in the valley below. They're dead as Joolius + Caesar when I rides onto 'em, while a brace of mountain lions is skirtin' + up an' down the aige of the bluff they leaps from, mewin' an' lashin' + their long tails in hot enthoosiasm. Shore, the cats has been chasin' the + mare an' foal, an' they locoes 'em to that extent they don't know where + they're headin' an' makes the death jump I relates. I bangs away with my + six-shooter, but beyond givin' the mountain lions a convulsive start I + can't say I does any execootion. They turns an' goes streakin' it through + the pine woods like a drunkard to a barn raisin'. + </p> + <p> + "Timid? Shore! They're that timid seminary girls compared to 'em is as + sternly courageous as a passel of buccaneers. Out in Mitchell's canyon a + couple of the Lee-Scott riders cuts the trail of a mountain lion and her + two kittens. Now whatever do you-all reckon this old tabby does? Basely + deserts her offsprings without even barin' a tooth, an' the cow-punchers + takes 'em gently by their tails an' beats out their joovenile brains. + That's straight; that mother lion goes swarmin' up the canyon like she + ain't got a minute to live. An' you can gamble the limit that where a + anamile sees its children perish without frontin' up for war, it don't + possess the commonest roodiments of sand. Sech, son, is mountain lions. + </p> + <p> + "It's one evenin' in the Red Light when Colonel Sterett, who's got through + his day's toil on that Coyote paper he's editor of, onfolds concernin' a + panther round-up which he pulls off in his yooth. + </p> + <p> + "'This panther hunt,' says Colonel Sterett, as he fills his third tumbler, + 'occurs when mighty likely I'm goin' on seventeen winters. I'm a leader + among my young companions at the time; in fact, I allers is. An' I'm proud + to say that my soopremacy that a-way is doo to the dom'nant character of + my intellects. I'm ever bright an' sparklin' as a child, an' I recalls how + my aptitoode for learnin' promotes me to be regyarded as the smartest lad + in my set. If thar's visitors, to the school, or if the selectmen invades + that academy to sort o' size us up, the teacher allers plays me on 'em. + I'd go to the front for the outfit. Which I'm wont on sech harrowin' + o'casions to recite a ode—the teacher's done wrote it himse'f—an' + which is entitled Napoleon's Mad Career. Thar's twenty-four stanzas to it; + an' while these interlopin' selectmen sets thar lookin' owley an' + sagacious, I'd wallop loose with the twenty-four verses, stampin' up and + down, an' accompanyin' said recitations with sech a multitood of reckless + gestures, it comes plenty clost to backin' everybody plumb outen the room. + Yere's the first verse: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I'd drink an' sw'ar an' r'ar an' t'ar + An' fall down in the mud, + While the y'earth for forty miles about + Is kivered with my blood. +</pre> + <p> + "'You-all can see from that speciment that our schoolmaster ain't simply + flirtin' with the muses when he originates that epic; no sir, he means + business; an' whenever I throws it into the selectmen, I does it jestice. + The trustees used to silently line out for home when I finishes, an' never + a yeep. It stuns 'em; it shore fills 'em to the brim! + </p> + <p> + "'As I gazes r'arward,' goes on the Colonel, as by one rapt impulse he + uplifts both his eyes an' his nosepaint, 'as I gazes r'arward, I says, on + them sun-filled days, an' speshul if ever I gets betrayed into talkin' + about 'em, I can hardly t'ar myse'f from the subject. I explains + yeretofore, that not only by inclination but by birth, I'm a shore-enough + 'ristocrat. This captaincy of local fashion I assoomes at a tender age. I + wears the record as the first child to don shoes throughout the entire + summer in that neighbourhood; an' many a time an' oft does my yoothful but + envy-eaten compeers lambaste me for the insultin' innovation. But I sticks + to my moccasins; an' to-day shoes in the Bloo Grass is almost as + yooniversal as the licker habit. + </p> + <p> + "'Thar dawns a hour, however, when my p'sition in the van of Kaintucky <i>ton</i> + comes within a ace of bein' ser'ously shook. It's on my way to school one + dewey mornin' when I gets involved all inadvertent in a onhappy rupture + with a polecat. I never does know how the misonderstandin' starts. After + all, the seeds of said dispoote is by no means important; it's enough to + say that polecat finally has me thoroughly convinced. + </p> + <p> + Followin' the difference an' my defeat, I'm witless enough to keep goin' + on to school, whereas I should have returned homeward an' cast myse'f upon + my parents as a sacred trust. Of course, when I'm in school I don't go + impartin' my troubles to the other chil'en; I emyoolates the heroism of + the Spartan boy who stands to be eat by a fox, an' keeps 'em to myself. + But the views of my late enemy is not to be smothered; they appeals to my + young companions; who tharupon puts up a most onneedful riot of coughin's + an' sneezin's. But nobody knows me as the party who's so pungent. + </p> + <p> + "'It's a tryin' moment. I can see that, once I'm located, I'm goin' to be + as onpop'lar as a b'ar in a hawg pen; I'll come tumblin' from my pinnacle + in that proud commoonity as the glass of fashion an' the mold of form. You + can go your bottom peso, the thought causes me to feel plenty perturbed. + </p> + <p> + "'At this peril I has a inspiration; as good, too, as I ever entertains + without the aid of rum. I determines to cast the opprobrium on some other + boy an' send the hunt of gen'ral indignation sweepin' along his trail. + </p> + <p> + "'Thar's a innocent infant who's a stoodent at this temple of childish + learnin' an' his name is Riley Bark. This Riley is one of them giant + children who's only twelve an' weighs three hundred pounds. An' in + proportions as Riley is a son of Anak, physical, he's dwarfed mental; he + ain't half as well upholstered with brains as a shepherd dog. That's + right; Riley's intellects, is like a fly in a saucer of syrup, they + struggles 'round plumb slow. I decides to uplift Riley to the public eye + as the felon who's disturbin' that seminary's sereenity. Comin' to this + decision, I p'ints at him where he's planted four seats ahead, all tangled + up in a spellin' book, an' says in a loud whisper to a child who's sittin' + next: + </p> + <p> + "'Throw him out!' + </p> + <p> + "'That's enough. No gent will ever realise how easy it is to direct a + people's sentiment ontil he take a whirl at the game. In two minutes by + the teacher's bull's-eye copper watch, every soul knows it's pore Riley; + an' in three, the teacher's done drug Riley out doors by the ha'r of his + head an' chased him home. Gents, I look back on that yoothful feat as a + triumph of diplomacy; it shore saves my standin' as the Beau Brummel of + the Bloo Grass. + </p> + <p> + "'Good old days, them!' observes the Colonel mournfully, 'an' ones never + to come ag'in! My sternest studies is romances, an' the peroosals of old + tales as I tells you-all prior fills me full of moss an' mockin' birds in + equal parts. I reads deep of <i>Walter Scott</i> an' waxes to be a sharp + on Moslems speshul. I dreams of the Siege of Acre, an' Richard the Lion + Heart; an' I simply can't sleep nights for honin' to hold a tournament an' + joust a whole lot for some fair lady's love. + </p> + <p> + "'Once I commits the error of my career by joustin' with my brother Jeff. + This yere Jeff is settin' on the bank of the Branch fishin' for bullpouts + at the time, an' Jeff don't know I'm hoverin' near at all. Jeff's + reedic'lous fond of fishin'; which he'd sooner fish than read <i>Paradise + Lost</i>. I'm romancin' along, sim'larly bent, when I notes Jeff perched + on the bank. To my boyish imagination Jeff at once turns to be a Paynim. I + drops my bait box, couches my fishpole, an' emittin' a impromptoo warcry, + charges him. It's the work of a moment; Jeff's onhossed an' falls into the + Branch. + </p> + <p> + "'But thar's bitterness to follow vict'ry. Jeff emerges like Diana from + the bath an' frales the wamus off me with a club. Talk of puttin' a crimp + in folks! Gents when Jeff's wrath is assuaged I'm all on one side like the + leanin' tower of Pisa. Jeff actooally confers a skew-gee to my spinal + column. + </p> + <p> + "'A week later my folks takes me to a doctor. That practitioner puts on + his specs an' looks me over with jealous care. + </p> + <p> + "'"Whatever's wrong with him, Doc?" says my father. + </p> + <p> + "'"Nothin'," says the physician, "only your son Willyum's five inches out + o' plumb." + </p> + <p> + "'Then he rigs a contraption made up of guy-ropes an' stay-laths, an' I + has to wear it; an' mebby in three or four weeks he's got me warped back + into the perpendic'lar.' + </p> + <p> + "'But how about this cat hunt?" asks Dan Boggs. 'Which I don't aim to be + introosive none, but I'm camped yere through the second drink waitin' for + it, an' these procrastinations is makin' me kind o' batty.' + </p> + <p> + "'That panther hunt is like this,' says the Colonel turnin' to Dan. 'At + the age of seventeen, me an' eight or nine of my intimate brave comrades + founds what we-all denom'nates as the "Chevy Chase Huntin' Club." Each of + us maintains a passel of odds an' ends of dogs, an' at stated intervals we + convenes on hosses, an' with these fourscore curs at our tails goes + yellin' an' skally-hootin' up an' down the countryside allowin' we're + shore a band of Nimrods. + </p> + <p> + "'The Chevy Chasers ain't been in bein' as a institootion over long when + chance opens a gate to ser'ous work. The deep snows in the Eastern + mountains it looks like has done drove a panther into our neighbourhood. + You could hear of him on all sides. Folks glimpses him now an' then. They + allows he's about the size of a yearlin' calf; an' the way he pulls down + sech feeble people as sheep or lays desolate some he'pless henroost don't + bother him a bit. This panther spreads a horror over the county. Dances, + pra'er meetin's, an' even poker parties is broken up, an' the social life + of that region begins to bog down. Even a weddin' suffers; the bridesmaids + stayin' away lest this ferocious monster should show up in the road an' + chaw one of 'em while she's <i>en route</i> for the scene of trouble. + That's gospel trooth! the pore deserted bride has to heel an' handle + herse'f an' never a friend to yoonite her sobs with hers doorin' that + weddin' ordeal. The old ladies present shakes their heads a heap solemn. + </p> + <p> + "'"It's a worse augoory," says one, "than the hoots of a score of squinch + owls." + </p> + <p> + "'When this reign of terror is at its height, the local eye is rolled + appealin'ly towards us Chevy Chasers. We rises to the opportoonity. Day + after day we're ridin' the hills an' vales, readin' the milk white snow + for tracks. An' we has success. One mornin' I comes up on two of the + Brackenridge boys an' five more of the Chevy Chasers settin' on their + hosses at the Skinner cross roads. Bob Crittenden's gone to turn me out, + they says. Then they p'ints down to a handful of close-wove bresh an' + stunted timber an' allows that this maraudin' cat-o-mount is hidin' thar; + they sees him go skulkin' in. + </p> + <p> + "'Gents, I ain't above admittin' that the news puts my heart to a canter. + I'm brave; but conflicts with wild an' savage beasts is to me a novelty + an' while I faces my fate without a flutter, I'm yere to say I'd sooner + been in pursoot of minks or raccoons or some varmint whose grievous + cap'bilities I can more ackerately stack up an' in whose merry ways I'm + better versed. However, the dauntless blood of my grandsire mounts in my + cheek; an' as if the shade of that old Trojan is thar personal to su'gest + it, I searches forth a flask an' renoos my sperit; thus qualified for + perils, come in what form they may, I resolootely stands my hand. + </p> + <p> + "'Thar's forty dogs if thar's one in our company as we pauses at the + Skinner crossroads. An' when the Crittenden yooth returns, he brings with + him the Rickett boys an' forty added dogs. Which it's worth a ten-mile + ride to get a glimpse of that outfit of canines! Thar's every sort onder + the canopy: thar's the stolid hound, the alert fice, the sapient collie; + that is thar's individyool beasts wherein the hound, or fice, or collie + seems to preedominate as a strain. The trooth is thar's not that dog + a-whinin' about our hosses' fetlocks who ain't proudly descended from + fifteen different tribes, an' they shorely makes a motley mass meetin'. + Still, they're good, zealous dogs; an' as they're going to go for'ard an' + take most of the resks of that panther, it seems invidious to criticise + 'em. + </p> + <p> + "'One of the Twitty boys rides down an' puts the eighty or more dogs into + the bresh. The rest of us lays back an' strains our eyes. Thar he is! A + shout goes up as we descries the panther stealin' off by a far corner. + He's headin' along a hollow that's full of bresh an' baby timber an' runs + parallel with the pike. Big an' yaller he is; we can tell from the slight + flash we gets of him as he darts into a second clump of bushes. With a cry—what + young Crittenden calls a "view halloo,"—we goes stampedin' down the + pike in pursoot. + </p> + <p> + "'Our dogs is sta'nch; they shore does themse'fs proud. Singin' in twenty + keys, reachin' from growls to yelps an' from yelps to shrillest screams, + they pushes dauntlessly on the fresh trail of their terrified quarry. Now + an' then we gets a squint of the panther as he skulks from one copse to + another jest ahead. Which he's goin' like a arrow; no mistake! As for us + Chevy Chasers, we parallels the hunt, an' continyoos poundin' the Skinner + turnpike abreast of the pack, ever an' anon givin' a encouragin' shout as + we briefly sights our game. + </p> + <p> + "'Gents,' says Colonel Sterett, as he ag'in refreshes himse'f, 'it's + needless to go over that hunt in detail. We hustles the flyin' demon full + eighteen miles, our faithful dogs crowdin' close an' breathless at his + coward heels. Still, they don't catch up with him; he streaks it like some + saffron meteor. + </p> + <p> + "'Only once does we approach within strikin' distance; that's when he + crosses at old Stafford's whiskey still. As he glides into view, + Crittenden shouts: + </p> + <p> + "'"Thar he goes!" + </p> + <p> + "'For myse'f I'm prepared. I've got one of these misguided cap-an'-ball + six-shooters that's built doorin' the war; an' I cuts that hardware loose! + This weepon seems a born profligate of lead, for the six chambers goes off + together. Which you should have seen the Chevy Chasers dodge! An' well + they may; that broadside ain't in vain! My aim is so troo that one of the + r'armost dogs evolves a howl an' rolls over; then he sets up gnawin' an' + lickin' his off hind laig in frantic alternations. That hunt is done for + him. We leaves him doctorin' himse'f an' picks him up two hours later on + our triumphant return. + </p> + <p> + "'As I states, we harries that foogitive panther for eighteen miles an' in + our hot ardour founders two hosses. Fatigue an' weariness begins to + overpower us; also our prey weakens along with the rest. In the half + glimpses we now an' ag'in gets of him its plain that both pace an' + distance is tellin' fast. Still, he presses on; an' as thar's no spur like + fear, that panther holds his distance. + </p> + <p> + "'But the end comes. We've done run him into a rough, wild stretch of + country where settlements is few an' cabins roode. Of a sudden, the + panther emerges onto the road an' goes rackin' along the trail. We pushes + our spent steeds to the utmost. + </p> + <p> + "'Thar's a log house ahead; out in the stump-filled lot in front is a + frowsy woman an' five small children. The panther leaps the rickety + worm-fence an' heads straight as a bullet for the cl'arin'! Horrors! the + sight freezes our marrows! Mad an' savage, he's doo to bite a hunk outen + that devoted household! Mutooally callin' to each other, we goads our + hosses to the utmost. We gain on the panther! He may wound but he won't + have time to slay that fam'ly. + </p> + <p> + "'Gents, it's a soopreme moment! The panther makes for the female squatter + an' her litter, we pantin' an' pressin' clost behind. The panther is among + 'em; the woman an' the children seems transfixed by the awful spectacle + an' stands rooted with open eyes an' mouths. Our emotions shore beggars + deescriptions. + </p> + <p> + "'Now ensooes a scene to smite the hardiest of us with dismay. No sooner + does the panther find himse'f in the midst of that he'pless bevy of little + ones, than he stops, turns round abrupt, an' sets down on his tail; an' + then upliftin' his muzzle he busts into shrieks an' yells an' howls an' + cries, a complete case of dog hysterics! That's what he is, a great yeller + dog; his reason is now a wrack because we harasses him the eighteen miles. + </p> + <p> + "'Thar's a ugly outcast of a squatter, mattock in hand, comes tumblin' + down the hillside from some'ers out back of the shanty where he's been + grubbin': + </p> + <p> + "'"What be you-all eediots chasin' my dog for?" demands this onkempt + party. Then he menaces us with the implement. + </p> + <p> + "'We makes no retort but stands passive. The great orange brute whose + nerves has been torn to rags creeps to the squatter an' with mournful + howls explains what we've made him suffer. + </p> + <p> + "'No, thar's nothin' further to do an' less to be said. That cavalcade, + erstwhile so gala an' buoyant, drags itself wearily homeward, the + exhausted dogs in the r'ar walkin' stiff an' sore like their laigs is + wood. For more'n a mile the complainin' howls of the hysterical yeller dog + is wafted to our y'ears. Then they ceases; an' we figgers his sympathizin' + master has done took him into the shanty an' shet the door. + </p> + <p> + "'No one comments on this adventure, not a word is heard. Each is silent + ontil we mounts the Big Murray hill. As we collects ourse'fs on this + eminence one of the Brackenridge boys holds up his hand for a halt. + "Gents," he says, as—hosses, hunters an' dogs—we-all gathers + 'round, "gents, I moves you the Chevy Chase Huntin' Club yereby stands + adjourned <i>sine die</i>." Thar's a moment's pause, an' then as by one + impulse every gent, hoss an' dog, says "Ay!" It's yoonanimous, an' from + that hour till now the Chevy Chase Huntin' Club ain't been nothin' save + tradition. But that panther shore disappears; it's the end of his + vandalage; an' ag'in does quadrilles, pra'rs, an poker resoom their wonted + sway. That's the end; an' now, gents, if Black Jack will caper to his + dooties we'll uplift our drooped energies with the usual forty drops." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. How Faro Nell Dealt Bank. + </h2> + <p> + "Riches," remarked the Old Cattleman, "riches says you! Neither you-all + nor any other gent is competent to state whether in the footure he amasses + wealth or not. The question is far beyond the throw of your rope." + </p> + <p> + My friend's tone breathed a note of strong contradiction while his glance + was the glance of experience. I had said that I carried no hope of + becoming rich; that the members of my tribe were born with their hands + open and had such hold of money as a riddle has of water. It was this + which moved him to expostulatory denial. + </p> + <p> + "This matter of wealth, that a-way," he continued, "is a mighty sight a + question of luck. Shore, a gent has to have capacity to grasp a chance an' + savey sufficient to get his chips down right. But this chance, an' whether + it offers itse'f to any specific sport, is frequent accident an' its + comin' or failure to come depends on conditions over which the party about + to be enriched ain't got no control. That's straight, son! You backtrack + any fortune to its beginning an some'ers along the trail or at the + farthest end you'll come up with the fact that it took a accident or two, + what we-all darkened mortals calls 'luck,' to make good the play. It's + like gettin' shot gettin' rich is; all you has to do is be present + personal at the time, an' the bullet does the rest. + </p> + <p> + "You distrusts these doctrines. You shore won't if you sets down hard an' + thinks. Suppose twenty gents has made a surround an' is huntin' a b'ar. + Only one is goin' to down him. An' in his clumsy blunderin' the b'ar is + goin' to select his execootioner himse'f. That's a fact; the party who + downs the b'ar, final, ain't goin' to pick the b'ar out; the b'ar's goin' + to pick him out. An' it's the same about wealth; one gent gets the b'ar + an' the other nineteen—an' they're as cunnin' an' industr'ous as the + lucky party—don't get nothing—don't even get a shot. I repeats + tharfore, that you-all settin' yere this evenin', firin' off aimless + observations, don't know whether you'll quit rich or not." + </p> + <p> + At the close of his dissertation, my talkative companion puffed a cloud + which seemed to hang above his venerable head in a fashion of heavy blue + approval. I paused as one impressed by the utter wisdom of the old + gentleman. Then I took another tack. + </p> + <p> + "Speaking of wealth," I said, "tell me concerning the largest money you + ever knew to be won or lost at faro—tell me a gambling story." + </p> + <p> + "Tell you-all a gamblin' tale," he repeated, and then mused as if lost in + retrospection. "If I hesitates it's because of a multitoode of incidents + from which to draw. I've beheld some mighty cur'ous doin's at the gamblin' + tables. Once I knows a party who sinks his hopeless head on the layout an' + dies as he loses his last chip. This don't happen in Wolfville none. No, I + don't say folks ain't cashed in at farobank in that excellent hamlet an' + gone singin' to their home above; but it ain't heart disease. Usual it's + guns; the same bein' invoked by sech inadvertencies as pickin' up some + other gent's bet. + </p> + <p> + "Tell you-all a story about gamblin'! Now I reckons the time Faro Nell + rescoos Cherokee Hall from rooin is when I sees the most <i>dinero</i> + changed in at one play. You can gamble that's a thrillin' eepisode when + Faro Nell steps in between Cherokee an' the destroyer. It's the gossip of + the camp for days, an' when Wolfville discusses anything for days that + outfit's plumb moved. + </p> + <p> + "This gent who crowds Cherokee to the wall performs the feat deliberate. + He organises a sort o' campaign ag'in Cherokee; what you might term a + fiscal dooel, an' at the finish he has Cherokee corralled for his last <i>peso</i>. + It's at that p'int Nell cuts in an' redeems the sityooation a heap. It's + all on the squar'; this invadin' sport simply outlucks the bank. That, an' + the egreegious limit Cherokee gives him, is what does the trick. + </p> + <p> + "In Wolfville, we-all allers recalls that sharp-set gent who comes after + Cherokee with respect. In fact he wins our encomiums before he sets in + ag'in Cherokee—before ever he gets his second drink at the Red Light + bar. He comes ramblin' over with Old Monte from Tucson one evenin'; that's + the first glimpse we has of him. An' for a hour, mebby, followin' his + advent, seein' the gen'ral herd is busy with the mail, he has the Red + Light to himse'f. + </p> + <p> + "On this yere o'casion, thar's likewise present in Wolfville—he's + been infringin' 'round some three days—a onsettled an' migratory + miscreant who's name is Ugly Collins. He's in a heap of ill repoote in the + territories, this Ugly Collins is; an' only he contreebutes the + information when he arrives in camp that his visit is to be mighty + temp'rary, Enright would have signed up Jack Moore to take his guns an' + stampede him a lot. + </p> + <p> + "At the time I'm talkin' of, as thar's no one who's that abandoned as to + go writin' letters to Ugly Collins, it befalls he's plenty footloose. This + leesure on the part of Ugly Collins turns out some disastrous for that + party. Not havin' no missives to read leaves him free to go weavin' about + permiscus an' it's while he's strayin' here an' thar that he tracks up on + this stranger who's come after Cherokee. + </p> + <p> + "Ugly Collins sees our pilgrim in the Red Light an', except Black Jack,—who + of course is present offishul—the stranger's alone. He's weak an' + meek an' shook by a cough that sounds like the overture to a fooneral. + Ugly Collins, who's a tyrannizin' cowardly form of outcast, sizes him up + as a easy prey. He figgers he'll have a heap of evil fun with him, Ugly + Collins does. Tharupon he approaches the consumptive stranger: + </p> + <p> + "'You-all seems plenty ailin', pard,' says Ugly Collins. + </p> + <p> + "'Which I shore ain't over peart none,' retorts the stranger. + </p> + <p> + "'An' you-all can put down a bet,' returns Ugly Collins, 'I learns of your + ill-health with regrets. It's this a-way: I ain't had no exercise yet this + evenin'; an' as I tracks in yere, I registers a vow to wallop the first + gent I meets up with to whom I've not been introdooced ;—merely by + way of stretchin' my muscles. Now I must say—an' I admits it with + sorrow—that you-all is that onhappy sport. It's no use; I knows I'll + loathe myse'f for crawlin' the hump of a gent who's totterin' on the brink + of the grave; but whatever else can I do? Vows is vows an' must be kept, + so you might as well prepare yourse'f for a cloud of sudden an' painful + vicissitoodes.' + </p> + <p> + "As Ugly Collins says this he kind o' reaches for the invalid gent where + he's camped in a cha'r. It's a onfortunate gesture; the invalid—as + quick as a rattlesnake,—prodooces a derringer, same as Doc Peets + allers packs, from his surtoot an' the bullet carries away most of Ugly + Collins' lower jaw. + </p> + <p> + "'You-all is goin' to be a heap sight more of a audience than a orator + yereafter, Collins,' says Doc Peets, as he ties up the villain's visage + that a-way. 'Also, you oughter be less reckless an' get the address of + your victims before embarkin' on them skelp-collectin' enterprises of + yours. That gent you goes ag'inst is Doc Holliday; as hard a game as lurks + anywhere between the Slope an' the Big Muddy.' + </p> + <p> + "Does the Stranglers do anything to this Holliday? Why, no, not much; all + they does is present him with a Colt's-44 along with the compliments of + the camp. + </p> + <p> + "'An' it's to be deplored,' says Enright, when he makes the presentation + speech to Holliday, 'that you-all don't have this weepon when you cuts + loose at Collins instead of said jimcrow derringer. In sech events, that + hoss-thief's death would have been assured. Shore! shootin' off Collins' + jaw is good as far as it goes, but it can't be regyarded as no sech boon + as downin' him complete. + </p> + <p> + "It's after supper when this Holliday encounters Cherokee; the two has a + conference. This Holliday lays bar' his purpose. + </p> + <p> + "'Which I'm yere,' says this Holliday, 'not only for your money, but I + wants the camp.' Then he goes for'ard an' proposes that they plays till + one is broke; an, if it's Cherokee who goes down, he is to vamos the + outfit while Holliday succeeds to his game. 'An' the winner is to stake + his defeated adversary to one thousand dollars wherewith to begin life + anew,' concloodes this Holliday. + </p> + <p> + "'Which what you states seems like agreeable offers,' says Cherokee, an' + he smiles clever an' gentlemanly. 'How strong be you-all, may I ask?' + </p> + <p> + "'Thirty thousand dollars in thirty bills,' replies this Holliday. 'An' + now may I enquire how strong be you? I also likes to know how long a trail + I've got to travel.' + </p> + <p> + "'My roll is about forty thousand big,' says Cherokee. Then he goes on: + 'It's all right; I'll open a game for you at second drink time sharp.' + </p> + <p> + "'That's comfortin' to hear,' retorts this Holliday. 'The chances,—what + with splits an' what with the ten thousand you oversizes me,—is + nacherally with you; but I takes 'em. If I lose, I goes back with a even + thousand; if I win, you-all hits the trail with a thousand, while I'm + owner of your roll an' bank. Does that onderstandin' go?' + </p> + <p> + "'It goes!' says Cherokee. Then he turns off for a brief powwow with Faro + Nell. + </p> + <p> + "'But thar's one thing you-all forgets, Cherokee,' says Nell. 'If he + breaks you, he's got to go on an' break me. I've a bundle of three + thousand; he's got to get it all before ever the play is closed. Tell this + yere Holliday party that.' + </p> + <p> + "Cherokee argues ag'in it; but Nell stamps 'round an' starts to weep some, + an' at that, like every other troo gent, he gives in abject. + </p> + <p> + "'Thar's a bet I overlooks,' observes Cherokee, when he resoomes his talk + with this Holliday; 'it's my partner. It's only a little matter of three + thousand, but the way the scheme frames itse'f up, after I'm down an' out, + you'll have to break my partner before Wolfville's all your own.' + </p> + <p> + "'That's eminent satisfactory,' returns this Holliday. 'An' I freely adds + that your partner is a dead game sport to take so brief a fortune an'—win + all, lose all—go after more'n twenty times as much. Your partner's a + shore enough optimist that a-way.' + </p> + <p> + "Cherokee don't make no retort. This Holliday ain't posted none that the + partner Cherokee's mentionin' is Faro Nell, an' Cherokee allows he won't + onbosom himse'f on that p'int onless his hand is forced. + </p> + <p> + "When the time arrives to open the game, the heft of Wolfville's public is + gathered at the Red Light. The word goes 'round as to the enterprisin' + Holliday bein' out for Cherokee's entire game; an' the prospect of seein' + a limit higher than a cat's back, an' a dooel to the death, proves mighty + pop'lar. The play opens to a full house, shore! + </p> + <p> + "'What limit do you give me?' says this Holliday, with a sort o' cough, at + the same time settin' in opposite to Cherokee. 'Be lib'ral; I ain't more'n + a year to live, an' I've got to play 'em high an' hard to get average + action. If I'm in robust health now, with a long, useful life before me, + the usual figgers would do. Considerin' my wasted health, however, I shore + hopes you'll say something like the even thousand.' + </p> + <p> + "'Which I'll do better than that,' returns Cherokee, as he snaps the deck + in the box, 'I'll let you fix the limit to suit yourse'f. Make it the + ceilin' if the sperit moves you.' + </p> + <p> + "'That's gen'rous!' says Holliday. 'An' to mark my appreciation tharof, + I'll jest nacherally take every resk of splits an' put ten thousand in the + pot, coppered; ten thousand in the big squar'; an' ten thousand, coppered, + on the high kyard.' + </p> + <p> + "Son, we-all sports standin' lookin' on draws a deep breath. Thirty + thousand in three ten thousand dollar bets, an' all on the layout at once, + marks a epock in Wolfville business life wherefrom folks can onblushin'ly + date time! Thar it lays however, an' the two sharps most onmoved tharby is + Cherokee an' Holliday themse'fs. + </p> + <p> + "'Turn your game!' says this Holliday, when his money is down, an' leanin' + back to light a seegyar. + </p> + <p> + "Cherokee makes the turn. Never does I witness action so sudden an' + complete! It's shore the sharpest! The top kyard as the deck lays in the + box is a ten-spot. An' as the papers is shoved forth, how do you-all + reckon they falls! I'm a Mexican! if they don't come seven-king! This + Holliday wins all along; Cherokee is out thirty thousand an' only three + kyards showed! How's that for perishin' flesh an' blood! + </p> + <p> + "I looks at Cherokee; his face is as ca'm as a Injun's; he's too finely + fibred a sport to so much as let a eyelash quiver. This Holliday is + equally onemotional. Cherokee shoves over three yaller chips. + </p> + <p> + "'Call 'em ten thousand each,' says Cherokee. Then he waits for this + Holliday to place his next bets. + </p> + <p> + "'Since you-all has exackly that sum left in your treasury,' observes this + Holliday, puffin' his seegyar, 'I reckons I'll let one of these yaller + tokens go, coppered, on the high kyard ag'in. You-all doubles or breaks + right yere.' + </p> + <p> + "The turn falls trey-eight. Cherokee takes in that ten thousand dollar + chip. + </p> + <p> + "'Bein's that I'm still playin' on velvet,' remarks this Holliday, an' his + tone is listless an' languid like he's only half interested, 'I'll go + twenty thousand on the high kyard, open. This trip we omits the copper.' + </p> + <p> + "The first kyard to show is a deuce. It's better than ten to one Cherokee + will win. But disapp'intment chokes the camp; the next kyard is a ace, an' + Cherokee's swept off his moccasins. The bank is broke; and to signify as + much, Cherokee turns his box on its side, counts over forty thousand + dollars to this Holliday an' gets up from the dealer's cha'r. + </p> + <p> + "As Cherokee rises, Faro Nell slides off the lookout's stool an' into the + vacated cha'r. When Cherokee loses the last bet I hears Nell's teeth come + together with a click. I don't dare look towards her at the time; but now, + when she turns the box back, takes out the deck, riffles an' returns it to + its place I gives her a glance. Nell's as game as Cherokee. As she sets + over ag'inst this lucky invalid her colour is high an' her eyes like two + stars. + </p> + <p> + "'An' now you've got to break me,' says Nell to this Holliday. 'Also, we + restores the <i>statu quo</i>, as Colonel Sterett says in that <i>Coyote</i> + paper, an' the limit retreats to a even hundred dollars.' + </p> + <p> + "'Be you-all the partner Mister Hall mentions?' asks this Holliday, at the + same time takin' off his sombrero an' throwin' away his seegyar. + </p> + <p> + "Nell says she is. + </p> + <p> + "'Miss,' says this Holliday, 'I feels honoured to find myse'f across the + layout from so much sperit an' beauty. A limit of one hundred, says you; + an' your word is law! As a first step then, give me three thousand dollars + worth of chips an' make 'em fifty dollars each. I'll take the same chance + with you on that question of splits I does former, an' I wants a hundred + on every kyard, middle to win ag'in the ends.' + </p> + <p> + "The deal begins; Nell is winner from the jump; she takes in three bets to + lose one plumb down to the turn. This Holliday calls the turn for the + limit; an' loses. The kyards go into the box ag'in an' a next deal + ensooes. So it continyoos; an' Nell beats this Holliday hard for half a + hour. Nell sees she's in luck; an' she feels that strong she concloods to + press it some. + </p> + <p> + "'The limit's five hundred!' says Nell to this Holliday. 'Come after me!' + </p> + <p> + "Holliday bows like he's complimented. 'I'm after you; an' I comes + a-runnin',' he says. + </p> + <p> + "Down goes his money all over the lay-out; only now its five hundred + instead of one hundred. + </p> + <p> + "It's no avail, this Holliday still loses. At the end of a hour Nell sizes + up her roll; she's a leetle over forty thousand strong; jest where + Cherokee stands at the start. + </p> + <p> + "Nell pauses as she's about to put the deck in the box for a deal. She + looks at this Holliday a heap thoughtful. That look excites Dan Boggs + who's been on the brink of fits since ever the play begins, he's that + 'motional. + </p> + <p> + "'Don't raise the limit, Nell!' says Dan in a awful whisper. 'That's where + Cherokee's weak at the go-off. He ought never to have thrown away the + limit.' + </p> + <p> + "Nell casts her eyes—they're burnin' like coals!—on Dan. I can + see his bluff about Cherokee bein' weak has done decided her mind. + </p> + <p> + "'Cherokee does right,' says Nell to Dan, 'like Cherokee allers does. An' + I'll do the same as Cherokee. Stranger,' goes on Nell, turnin' from Dan to + this Holliday; 'go as far as you likes. The bridle's off the hoss.' + </p> + <p> + "'An' much obleeged to you, Miss!' says this Holliday, with another of + them p'lite bows. 'As the kyards goes in the box, I makes you the same + three bets I makes first to Mister Hall. Ten thousand, coppered, in the + pot; ten thousand, open, in the big squar'; an' ten thousand on the high + kyard, coppered.' + </p> + <p> + "'An' now as then,' says Nell, sort o' catchin' her breath, 'the + ten-spot's the soda kyard!' + </p> + <p> + "Son, it won't happen ag'in in a billion years! Nell's right hand shakes a + trifle—she's only a child, mind, an' ain't got the nerves that goes + with case-hardened sports—as she shoves the ten-spot forth. But it's + comin' her way; her luck holds; as certain as we all sets yere drinkin' + toddy, the same two kyards shows for her as for Cherokee, but this time + they falls 'king-seven'; the bank wins, an' pore Holliday is cleaned out. + </p> + <p> + "'Thar, Cherokee,' says Nell, an' thar's a soft smile an' a sigh of deep + content goes with the observation, 'thar's your bank ag'in; only it's + thirty thousand stronger than it is four hours ago.' + </p> + <p> + "'Your bank, ladybird, you means!' says Cherokee. + </p> + <p> + "'Well, our bank, then,' retorts Nell. 'What's the difference? Don't + you-all tell me we're partners?' Then Nell motions to Black Jack. 'The + drinks is on me, Jack,' she says; 'see what the house will have.'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. How The Raven Died. + </h2> + <p> + "Which if you-all is out to hear of Injuns, son," observed the Old + Cattleman, doubtfully, "the best I can do is shet my eyes an' push along + regyardless, like a cayouse in a storm of snow. But I don't guarantee no + facts; none whatever! I never does bend myse'f to severe study of savages + an' what notions I packs concernin' 'em is the casual frootes of what I + accidental hears an' what I sees. It's only now an' then, as I observes + former, that Injuns invades Wolfville; an' when they does, we-all scowls + 'em outen camp—sort o' makes a sour front, so as to break 'em early + of habits of visitin' us. We shore don't hone none to have 'em hankerin' + 'round. + </p> + <p> + "Nacherally, I makes no doubt that if you goes clost to Injuns an' studies + their little game you finds some of 'em good an' some bad, some gaudy an' + some sedate, some cu'rous an' some indifferent, same as you finds among + shore-enough folks. It's so with mules an' broncos; wherefore, then, may + not these differences exist among Injuns? Come squar' to the turn, you-all + finds white folks separated the same. Some gents follows off one waggon + track an' some another; some even makes a new trail. + </p> + <p> + "Speakin' of what's opposite in folks, I one time an' ag'in sees two white + chiefs of scouts who frequent comes pirootin' into Wolfville from the + Fort. Each has mebby a score of Injuns at his heels who pertains to him + personal. One of these scout chiefs is all buck-skins, fringes, beads an' + feathers from y'ears to hocks, while t'other goes garbed in a stiff hat + with a little jim crow rim—one of them kind you deenom'nates as a + darby—an' a diag'nal overcoat; one chief looks like a dime novel on + a spree an' t'other as much like the far East as he saveys how. An' yet, + son, this voylent person in buckskins is a Second Lootenent—a mere + boy, he is—from West P'int; while that outcast in the reedic'lous + hat is foaled on the plains an' never does go that clost to the risin' sun + as to glimpse the old Missouri. The last form of maverick bursts frequent + into Western bloom; it's their ambition, that a-way, to deloode you into + deemin' 'em as fresh from the States as one of them tomatter airtights. + </p> + <p> + "Thar's old gent Jeffords; he's that sort. Old Jeffords lives for long + with the Apaches; he's found among 'em when Gen'ral Crook—the old + 'Grey Fox'—an' civilisation and gatlin' guns comes into Arizona arm + in arm. I used to note old Jeffords hibernatin' about the Oriental over in + Tucson. I shore reckons he's procrastinatin' about thar yet, if the Great + Sperit ain't done called him in. As I says, old Jeffords is that long + among the Apaches back in Cochise's time that the mem'ry of man don't run + none to the contrary. An' yet no gent ever sees old Jeffords wearin' + anything more savage than a long-tail black surtoot an' one of them stove + pipe hats. Is Jeffords dangerous? No, you-all couldn't call him a distinct + peril; still, folks who goes devotin' themse'fs to stirrin' Jeffords up + jest to see if he's alive gets disasterous action. He has long grey ha'r + an' a tangled white beard half-way down his front; an' with that old plug + hat an' black coat he's a sight to frighten children or sour milk! Still, + Jeffords is all right. As long as towerists an' other inquisitive people + don't go pesterin' Jeffords, he shore lets 'em alone. Otherwise, you might + as well be up the same saplin' with a cinnamon b'ar; which you'd most + likely hear something drop a lot! + </p> + <p> + "For myse'f, I likes old Jeffords, an' considers him a pleasin' conundrum. + About tenth drink time he'd take a cha'r an' go camp by himse'f in a far + corner, an' thar he'd warble hymns. Many a time as I files away my + nosepaint in the Oriental have I been regaled with, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Jesus, Lover of my soul, + Let me to Thy bosom fly, + While the nearer waters roll, + While the tempest still is high, +</pre> + <p> + as emanatin' from Jeffords where he's r'ared back conductin' some personal + services. Folks never goes buttin' in interferin' with these concerts; + which it's cheaper to let him sing. + </p> + <p> + "Speakin' of Injuns, as I su'gests, I never does see over-much of 'em in + Wolfville. An' my earlier experiences ain't thronged with 'em neither, + though while I'm workin' cattle along the Red River I does carom on Injuns + more or less. Thar's one old hostile I recalls speshul; he's a fool Injun + called Black Feather;—Choctaw, he is. This Black Feather's weakness + is fire-water; he thinks more of it than some folks does of children. + </p> + <p> + "Black Feather used to cross over to where Dick Stocton maintains a store + an' licker house on the Upper Hawgthief. Of course, no gent sells these + Injuns licker. It's ag'in the law; an' onless you-all is onusual eager to + make a trip to Fort Smith with a marshal ridin' herd on you doorin' said + visit, impartin' of nosepaint to aborigines is a good thing not to do. But + Black Feather, he'd come over to Dick Stocton's an' linger 'round the + bar'ls of Valley Tan, an' take a chance on stealin' a snifter or two while + Stocton's busy. + </p> + <p> + "At last Stocton gets tired an' allows he'll lay for Black Feather. This + yere Stocton is a mighty reckless sport; he ain't carin' much whatever he + does do; he hates Injuns an' shot guns, an' loves licker, seven-up, an' + sin in any form; them's Stocton's prime characteristics. An' he gets + mighty weary of the whiskey-thievin' Black Feather, an' lays for him. + </p> + <p> + "One evenin' this aggravatin' Black Feather crosses over an' takes to + ha'ntin' about Dick Stocton's licker room as is his wont. It looks like + Black Feather has already been buyin' whiskey of one of them boot-laig + parties who takes every chance an' goes among the Injuns an' sells 'em + nosepaint on the sly. 'Fore ever he shows up on the Upper Hawgthief that + time, this Black Feather gets nosepaint some'ers an' puts a whole quart of + it away in the shade; an' he shore exhibits symptoms. Which for one thing + he feels about four stories tall! + </p> + <p> + "Stocton sets a trap for Black Feather. He fills up the tin cup into which + he draws that Valley Tan with coal-oil—karoseen you-all calls it—an' + leaves it, temptin' like, settin' on top a whiskey bar'l. Shore! it's the + first thing Black Feather notes. He sees his chance an' grabs an' downs + the karoseen; an' Stocton sort o' startin' for him, this Black Feather + gulps her down plump swift. The next second he cuts loose the yell of that + year, burns up about ten acres of land, and starts for Red River. No, I + don't know whether the karoseen hurts him none or not; but he certainly + goes squatterin' across the old Red River like a wounded wild-duck, an' he + never does come back no more. + </p> + <p> + "But, son, as you sees, I don't know nothin' speshul or much touchin' + Injuns, an' if I'm to dodge the disgrace of ramblin' along in this + desultory way, I might better shift to a tale I hears Sioux Sam relate to + Doc Peets one time in the Red Light. This Sam is a Sioux, an a mighty + decent buck, considerin' he's Injun; Sam is servin' the Great Father as a + scout with the diag'nal-coat, darby-hat sharp I mentions. Peets gives this + saddle-tinted longhorn a 4-bit piece, an' he tells this yarn. It sounds + plenty childish; but you oughter b'ar in mind that savages, mental, ain't + no bigger nor older than ten year old young-ones among the palefaces. + </p> + <p> + "'This is the story my mother tells me,' says Sioux Sam, 'to show me the + evils of cur'osity. "The Great Sperit allows to every one the right to ask + only so many questions," says my mother, "an' when they ask one more than + is their right, they die." + </p> + <p> + "'This is the story of the fate of <i>Kaw-kaw-chee</i>, the Raven, a Sioux + Chief who died long ago exackly as my mother told me. The Raven died + because he asked too many questions an' was too cur'ous. It began when + Sublette, who was a trader, came up the <i>Mitchi-zoor-rah</i>, the + Big-Muddy, an' was robbed by the Raven's people. Sublette was mad at this, + an' said next time he would bring the Sioux a present so they would not + rob him. So he brought a little cask of fire-water an' left it on the bank + of the Big-Muddy. Then Sublette went away, an' twenty of the Raven's young + men found the little cask. An' they were greedy an' did not tell the camp; + they drank the fire-water where it was found. + </p> + <p> + "'The Raven missed his twenty young men an' when he went to spy for them, + behold! they were dead with their teeth locked tight an' their faces an' + bodies writhen an' twisted as the whirlwind twists the cottonwoods. Then + the Raven thought an' thought; an' he got very cur'ous to know why his + young men died so writhen an' twisted. The fire-water had a whirlwind in + it, an' the Raven was eager to hear. So he sent for Sublette. + </p> + <p> + "'Then the Raven an' Sublette had a big talk. They agreed not to hurt each + other; an' Sublette was to come an' go an' trade with the Sioux; an' they + would never rob him. + </p> + <p> + "'At this, Sublette gave the Raven some of the whirlwind that so killed + an' twisted the twenty young men. It was a powder, white; an' it had no + smell. Sublette said its taste was bitter; but the Raven must not taste it + or it would lock up his teeth an' twist an' kill him. For to swallow the + white powder loosed the whirlwind on the man's heart an' it bent him an' + twisted him like the storms among the willows. + </p> + <p> + "'But the Raven could give the powder to others. So the Raven gave it in + some deer's meat to his two squaws; an' they were twisted till they died; + an' when they would speak they couldn't, for their teeth were held tight + together an' no words came out of their mouths,—only a great foam. + Then the Raven gave it to others that he did not love; they were twisted + an' died. At last there was no more of the powder of the whirlwind; the + Raven must wait till Sublette came up the Big-Muddy again an' brought him + more. + </p> + <p> + "'There was a man, the Gray Elk, who was of the Raven's people. The Gray + Elk was a <i>Choo-ayk-eed</i>, a great prophet. And the Gray Elk had a + wife; she was wise an' beautiful, an' her name was Squaw-who-has-dreams. + But Gray Elk called her <i>Kee-nee-moo-sha</i>, the Sweetheart. + </p> + <p> + "'While the Raven waited for Sublette to bring him more powder of the + whirlwind, a star with a long tail came into the sky. This star with the + tail made the Raven heap cur'ous. He asked Gray Elk to tell him about it, + for he was a prophet. The Raven asked many questions; they fell from him + like leaves from a tree in the month of the first ice. So the Gray Elk + called <i>Chee-bee</i>, the Spirit; an' the Spirit told the Gray Elk. Then + the Gray Elk told the Raven.' + </p> + <p> + "'It was not a tail, it was blood—star blood; an' the star had been + bit an' was wounded, but would get well. The Sun was the father of the + stars, an' the Moon was their mother. The Sun, <i>Gheezis</i>, tried ever + to pursue an' capture an' eat his children, the stars. So the stars all + ran an' hid when the Sun was about. But the stars loved their mother who + was good an' never hurt them; an' when the Sun went to sleep at night an' + <i>Coush-ee-wan</i>, the Darkness, shut his eyes, the Moon an' her + children came together to see each other. But the star that bled had been + caught by the Sun; it got out of his mouth but was wounded. Now it was + frightened, so it always kept its face to where the Sun was sleeping over + in the west. The bleeding star, <i>Sch-coo-dah</i>, would get well an' its + wound would heal. + </p> + <p> + "'Then the Raven wanted to know how the Gray Elk knew all this. An' the + Gray Elk had the Raven into the medicine lodge that night; an' the Raven + heard the spirits come about an' heard their voices; but he could not + understand. Also, the Raven saw a wolf all fire, with wings like the eagle + which flew overhead. Also he heard the Thunder, <i>Boom-wa-wa</i>, talking + with the Gray Elk; but the Raven couldn't understand. The Gray Elk told + the Raven to draw his knife an' stab with it in the air outside the + medicine lodge. An' when he did, the Raven's blade an' hand came back + covered with blood. Still, the Raven was cur'ous an' kept askin' to be + told how the Gray Elk knew these things. An' the Gray Elk at last took the + Raven to the Great Bachelor Sycamore that lived alone, an' asked the Raven + if the Bachelor Sycamore was growing. An' the Raven said it was. Then Gray + Elk asked him how he knew it was growing. An' the Raven said he didn't + know. Then Gray Elk said he did not know how he knew about <i>Sch-coo-dah</i>, + the star that was bit. This made the Raven angry, for he was very cur'ous; + an' he thought the Gray Elk had two tongues. + </p> + <p> + "'Then it came the month of the first young grass an' Sublette was back + for furs. Also he brought many goods; an' he gave to the Raven more of the + powder of the whirlwind in a little box, At once the Raven made a feast of + ducks for the Gray Elk; an' he gave him of the whirlwind powder; an' at + once his teeth came together an' the Gray Elk was twisted till he died. + </p> + <p> + "'Now no one knew that the Raven had the powder of the whirlwind, so they + could not tell why all these people were twisted and went to the Great + Spirit. But the Squaw-who-has-dreams saw that it was the Raven who killed + her husband, the Gray Elk, in a vision. Then the Squaw-who-has-dreams went + into the mountains four days an' talked with <i>Moh-kwa</i>, the Bear who + is the wisest of the beasts. The Bear said it was the Raven who killed the + Gray Elk an' told the Squaw-who-has-dreams of the powder of the whirlwind. + </p> + <p> + "'Then the Bear an' the Squaw-who-has-dreams made a fire an' smoked an' + laid a plot. The Bear did not know where to find the powder of the + whirlwind which the Raven kept always in a secret place. But the Bear told + the Squaw-who-has-dreams that she should marry the Raven an' watch until + she found where the powder of the whirlwind was kept in its secret place; + an' then she was to give some to the Raven, an' he, too, would be twisted + an' die. There was a great danger, though; the Raven would, after the one + day when they were wedded, want to kill the Squaw-who-has-dreams. So to + protect her, the Bear told her she must begin to tell the Raven the moment + she was married to him the Story-that-never-ends. Then, because the Raven + was more cur'ous than even he was cruel, he would put off an' put off + giving the powder of the whirlwind to the Squaw-who-has-dreams, hoping to + hear the end of the Story-that-never-ends. Meanwhile the + Squaw-who-has-dreams was to watch the Raven until she found the powder of + the whirlwind in its secret place. + </p> + <p> + "'Then the wise Bear gave the Squaw-who-has-dreams a bowlful of words as + seed, so she might plant them an' raise a crop of talk to tell the + Story-that-never-ends. An' the Squaw-who-has-dreams planted the + seed-words, an' they grew an' grew an' she gathered sixteen bundles of + talk an' brought them to her wigwam. After that she put beads in her hair, + an' dyed her lips red, an' rubbed red on her cheeks, an' put on a new + blanket; an' when the Raven saw her, he asked her to marry him. So they + were wedded; an' the Squaw-who-has-dreams went to the teepee of the Raven + an' was his wife. + </p> + <p> + "'But the Raven was old an' cunning like <i>Yah-mee-kee</i>, the Beaver, + an' he said, "He is not wise who keeps a squaw too long!" An' with that he + thought he would kill the Squaw-who-has-dreams the next day with the + powder of the whirlwind. But the Squaw-who-has-dreams first told the Raven + that she hated <i>When-dee-goo</i>, the Giant; an' that she should not + love the Raven until he had killed <i>When-dee-goo</i>. She knew the Giant + was too big an' strong for the Raven to kill with his lance, an' that he + must get his powder of the whirlwind; she would watch him an' learn its + secret place. The Raven said he would kill the Giant as the sun went down + next day. + </p> + <p> + "'Then the Squaw-who-has-dreams told the Raven the first of the + Story-that-never-ends an' used up one bundle of talk; an' when the story + ended for that night, the Squaw-who-has-dreams was saying: "An' so, out of + the lake that was red as the sun came a great fish that was green, with + yellow wings, an' it walked also with feet, an' it came up to me an' said: + "But then she would tell no more that night; nor could the Raven, who was + crazy with cur'osity, prevail on her. "I must now sleep an' dream what the + green fish with the yellow wings said," was the reply of the + Squaw-who-has-dreams, an' she pretended to slumber. So the Raven, because + he was cur'ous, put off her death. + </p> + <p> + "'All night she watched, but the Raven did not go to the secret place + where he had hidden the powder of the whirlwind. Nor the next day, when + the sun went down, did the Raven kill the Giant. But the + Squaw-who-has-dreams took up again the Story-that-never-ends an' told what + the green fish with the yellow wings said; an' she used up the second + bundle of talk. When she ceased for that time, the Squaw-who-has-dreams + was saying: "An' as night fell, <i>Moh-kwa</i>, the Bear, called to me + from his canyon, an' said for me to come an' he would show me where the + great treasure of fire-water was buried for you who are the Raven. So I + went into the canyon, an' <i>Moh-kwa</i>, the Bear, took me by the hand + an' led me to the treasure of fire-water which was greater an' richer than + was ever seen by any Sioux." + </p> + <p> + "'Then the Squaw-who-has-dreams would tell no more that night, while the + Raven eat his fingers with cur'osity. But he made up a new plan not to + twist the Squaw-who-has-dreams until she showed him the treasure of + fire-water an' told him the end of the Story-that-never-ends. On her part, + however, the Squaw-who-has-dreams, as she went to sleep, wept an' tore the + beads from her hair an' said the Raven did not love her; for he had not + killed the Giant as he promised. She said she would tell no more of the + Story-that-never-ends until the Giant was dead; nor would she show to a + husband who did not love her the great treasure of fire-water which <i>Moh-kwa</i>, + the Bear, had found. At this, the Raven who was hot to have the treasure + of firewater an' whose ears rang with cur'osity to hear the end of the + Story-that-never-ends saw that he must kill the Giant. Therefore, when the + Squaw-who-has-dreams had ceased to sob and revile him, an' was gone as he + thought asleep, the Raven went to his secret place where he kept the + powder of the whirlwind an' took a little an' wrapped it in a leaf an' hid + the leaf in the braids of his long hair. Then the Raven went to sleep. + </p> + <p> + "'When the Raven was asleep the Squaw-who-has-dreams went also herself to + the secret place an' got also a little of the powder of the whirlwind. An' + the next morning she arose early an' gave the powder of the whirlwind to + the Raven on the roast buffalo, the <i>Pez-hee-kee</i>, which was his + food. + </p> + <p> + "'When the Raven had eaten, the Squaw-who-has-dreams went out of the + teepee among the people an' called all the Sioux to come an' see the Raven + die. So the Sioux came gladly, and the Raven was twisted an' writhen with + the power of the whirlwind wrenching at his heart; an' his teeth were + tight like a trap; an' no words, but only foam, came from his mouth; an' + at last the Spirit, the <i>Chee-bee</i>, was twisted out of the Raven; an' + the Squaw-who-has-dreams was revenged for the death of the Gray Elk whom + she loved an' who always called her <i>Kee-nee-moo-sha</i>, the + Sweetheart, because it made her laugh. + </p> + <p> + "'When the Raven was dead, the Squaw-who-has-dreams went to the secret + place an' threw the powder of the whirlwind into the Big-Muddy; an' after + that she distributed her fourteen bundles of talk that were left among all + the Sioux so that everybody could tell how glad he felt because the Raven + was twisted and died. An' for a week there was nothing but happiness an' + big talk among the Sioux; an' <i>Moh-kwa</i>, the Bear, came laughing out + of his canyon with the wonder of listening to it; while the + Squaw-who-has-dreams now, when her revenge was done, went with <i>When-dee-goo</i>, + the Giant, to his teepee and became his squaw. So now everything was ended + save the Story-that-never-ends.' + </p> + <p> + "When Sioux Sam gets this far," concluded the Old Cattleman, "he says, + 'an' my mother's words at the end were: "An' boys who ask too many + questions will die, as did the Raven whose cur'osity was even greater than + his cruelty."'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. The Queerness of Dave Tutt. + </h2> + <p> + "Which these queernesses of Dave's," observed the Old Cattleman, "has + already been harrowin' an' harassin' up the camp for mighty likely she's + two months, when his myster'ous actions one evenin' in the Red Light + brings things to a climax, an' a over-strained public, feelin' like it can + b'ar no more, begins to talk. + </p> + <p> + "It's plumb easy to remember this Red Light o'casion, for jest prior to + Dave alarmin' us by becomin' melodious, furtive—melody bein' wholly + onnacheral to Dave, that a-way—thar's a callow pin-feather party + comes caperin' in an' takin' Old Man Enright one side, asks can he + yootilise Wolfville as a strategic p'int in a elopement he's goin' to pull + off. + </p> + <p> + "'Which I'm out to elope a whole lot from Tucson,' explains this + pin-feather party to Enright, 'an' I aims to cinch the play. I'm a mighty + cautious sport, an' before ever I hooks up for actooal freightin' over any + trail, I rides her once or twice to locate wood and water, an' pick out my + camps. Said system may seem timorous, but it's shore safer a heap. So I + asks ag'in whether you-all folks has any objections to me elopin' into + Wolfville with my beloved, like I suggests. I ain't out to spring no + bridals on a onprotected outfit, wherefore I precedes the play with these + queries.' + </p> + <p> + "'But whatever's the call for you to elope at all?' remonstrates Enright. + 'The simple way now would be to round up this lady's paternal gent, an' + get his consent.' + </p> + <p> + "'Seein' the old gent,' says the pin-feather party, ''speshully when you + lays it smoothly off like that, shore does seem simplicity itse'f. But if + you was to prance out an' try it some, it would be found plenty complex. + See yere!' goes on the pin-feather party, beginnin' to roll up his sleeve, + 'you-all impresses me as more or less a jedge of casyooalities. Whatever + now do you think of this? 'An' the pin-feather party exhibits a bullet + wound in his left fore-arm, the same bein' about half healed. + </p> + <p> + "'Colt's six-shooter,' says Enright. + </p> + <p> + "'That's straight,' says the pin-feather party, buttonin' up his sleeve; + 'you calls the turn. I wins out that abrasion pleadin' with the old gent. + Which I tackles him twice. The first time he opens on me with his 44-gun + before ever I ends the sentence. But he misses. Nacherally, I abandons + them marital intentions for what you-all might call the "nonce" to sort o' + look over my hand ag'in an' see be I right. Do my best I can't on earth + discern no reasons ag'in the nuptials. Moreover, the lady—who takes + after her old gent a heap—cuts in on the play with a bluff that + while she don't aim none to crowd my hand, she's doo to begin shootin' me + up herse'f if I don't show more passionate anxiety about leadin' her to + the altar. It's then, not seein' why the old gent should go entertainin' + notions ag'in me, an' deemin' mebby that when he blazes away that time + he's merely pettish and don't really mean said bullet none, that I fronts + up ag'in.' + </p> + <p> + "'An' then,' asks Enright, 'whatever does this locoed parent do?' + </p> + <p> + "'Which I jest shows you what,' says the pin-feather party. 'He gets the + range before ever I opens my mouth, an' plugs me. At that I begins to half + despair of winnin' his indorsements. I leaves it to you-all; be I right?' + </p> + <p> + "'Why,' says Enright, rubbin' his fore'erd some doobious, 'it would look + like the old gent is a leetle set ag'in you. Still, as the responsible + chief of this camp, I would like to hear why you reckons Wolfville is a + good place to elope to. I don't s'ppose it's on account of them drunkards + over in Tucson makin' free with our good repoote an' lettin' on we're + light an' immoral that a-way?' + </p> + <p> + "'None whatever!' says the pin-feather party. 'It's on account of you + wolves bein' regyarded as peaceful, staid, an' law abidin' that I first + considers you. Then ag'in, thar ain't a multitood of places clost about + Tucson to elope to nohow; an' I can't elope far on account of my roll.' + </p> + <p> + "The replies of this pin-feather party soothes Enright an' engages him on + that side, so he ups an' tells the 'swain,' as Colonel Sterett calls him + later in the Coyote, to grab off his inamorata an' come a-runnin'. + </p> + <p> + "'Which, givin' my consent,' says Enright when explainin' about it later, + 'is needed to protect this tempest-tossed lover in the possession of his + skelp. The old gent an' that maiden fa'r has got him between 'em, an' + onless we opens up Wolfville as a refooge, it looks like they'll + cross-lift him into the promised land.' + </p> + <p> + "But to go back to Dave." + </p> + <p> + Here my old friend paused and called for refreshments. I seized the + advantage of his silence over a glass of peach and honey, to suggest an + eagerness for the finale of the Tucson love match. + </p> + <p> + "No," responded my frosty friend, setting down his glass, "we'll pursoo + the queernesses of Dave. That Tucson elopement 'is another story a heap,' + as some wise maverick says some'ers, an' I'll onload it on you on some + other day. + </p> + <p> + "When Dave evolves the cadencies in the Red Light that evenin', thar's + Enright, Moore an' me along with Dan Boggs, bein' entertained by hearin' + Cherokee Hall tell us about a brace game he gets ag'inst in Las Vegas one + time. + </p> + <p> + "'This deadfall—this brace I'm mentionin',' says Cherokee, 'is over + on the Plaza. Of course, I calls this crooked game a "brace" in speakin' + tharof to you-all sports who ain't really gamblers none. That's to be + p'lite. But between us, among a'credited kyard sharps, a brace game is + allers allooded to as "the old thing." If you refers to a game of chance + as "the old thing," they knows at once that every chance is 'liminated an' + said deevice rigged for murder.' + </p> + <p> + "'That's splendid, Cherokee,' says Faro Nell, from her lookout's roost by + his shoulder; 'give 'em a lecture on the perils of gamblin' with + strangers.' + </p> + <p> + "Thar's no game goin' at this epock an' Cherokee signifies his willin'ness + to become instructive. + </p> + <p> + "'Not that I'm no beacon, neither,' says Cherokee, 'on the rocky + wreck-sown shores of sport; an' not that I ever resorts to onderhand an' + doobious deals myse'f; still, I'm cap'ble of p'intin' out the dangers. + Scientists of my sort, no matter how troo an' faithful to the p'int of + honour, is bound to savey all kyard dooplicities in their uttermost + depths, or get left dead on the field of finance. Every gent should be + honest. But more than honest—speshully if he's out to buck faro-bank + or set in on casyooal games of short-kyards—every gent should be + wise. In the amoosements I mentions to be merely honest can't be + considered a complete equipment. Wherefore, while I never makes a crooked + play an' don't pack the par'fernalia so to do, I'm plenty astoote as to + how said tricks is turned. + </p> + <p> + "'Which sports has speshulties same as other folks. Thar's Texas Thompson, + his speshulty is ridin' a hoss; while Peets's speshulty is shootin' a + derringer, Colonel Sterett's is pol'tics, Enright's is jestice, Dave's is + bein' married, Jack Moore's is upholdin' law an' order, Boggs's is bein' + sooperstitious, Missis Rucker's is composin' bakin' powder biscuits, an' + Huggins's is strong drink.' + </p> + <p> + "'Whatever is my speshulty, Cherokee?' asks Faro Nell, who's as immersed + as the rest in these settin's forth; 'what do you-all reckon now is my + speshulty?' + </p> + <p> + "'Bein' the loveliest of your sex,' says Cherokee, a heap emphatic, an' on + that p'int we-all strings our game with his. + </p> + <p> + "'That puts the ambrosia on me,' says Faro Nell, blushin' with pleasure, + an' she calls to Black Jack. + </p> + <p> + "'As I observes,' goes on Cherokee, 'every sport has his speshulty. Thar's + Casino Joe; his is that he can "tell the last four." Nacherally, bein' + thus gifted, a game of casino is like so much money in the bank for Joe. + Still, his gifts ain't crooked, they're genius; Joe's simply born able to + "tell the last four." + </p> + <p> + "'Which, you gents is familiar by repoote at least with the several plans + for redoocin' draw-poker to the prosaic level of shore-things. Thar's the + "bug" an' the "foot-move" an' the "sleeve holdout" an' dozens of kindred + schemes for playin' a cold hand. An' thar's optimists, when the game is + easy, who depends wholly on a handkerchief in their laps to cover their + nefariousness. If I'm driven to counsel a gent concernin' poker it would + be to never play with strangers; an' partic'lar to never spec'late with a + gent who sneezes a lot, or turns his head an' talks of draughts of cold + air invading' the place, or says his foot's asleep an' gets up to stampede + about the room after a hand is dealt an' prior to the same bein' played. + It's four to one this afflicted sharp is workin' a holdout. Then that's + the "punch" to mark a deck, an' the "lookin' glass" to catch the kyards as + they're dealt. Then thar's sech manoovers as stockin' a deck, an' shiftin' + a cut, an' dealin' double. Thar's gents who does their work from the + bottom of a deck—-puts up a hand on the bottom, an' confers it on a + pard or on themse'fs as dovetails with their moods. He's a one-arm party—shy + his right arm, he is—who deals a hand from the bottom the best I + ever beholds. + </p> + <p> + "'No, I don't regyard crooked folks as dangerous at poker, only you've got + to watch 'em. So long as your eye is on 'em a heap attentive they're + powerless to perform their partic'lar miracle, an' as a result, since + that's the one end an' aim of their efforts, they becomes mighty inocuous. + As a roole, crooked people ain't good players on the squar', an' as long + as you makes 'em play squar', they're yours. + </p> + <p> + "'But speakin' of this devious person on the Las Vegas Plaza that time: + The outfit is onknown to me—I'm only a pilgrim an' a stranger an' + don't intend to tarry none—when I sets up to the lay-out. I ain't + got a bet down, however, before I sees the gent who's dealin', sign-up the + seven to the case-keep, an' instanter I feels like I'd known that bevy of + bandits since long before the war. Also, I realises their methods after I + takes a good hard look. That dealer's got what post gradyooates in + faro-bank robbery calls a "end squeeze" box; the deck is trimmed—"wedges" + is the name—to put the odds ag'in the evens, an' sanded so as to let + two kyards come at a clatter whenever said pheenomenon is demanded by the + exigencies of their crimes; an' thar you be. No, it's a fifty-two-kyard + deck all right, an' the dealer depends on "puttin' back" to keep all + straight. An' I'm driven to concede that the put-back work of said party + is like a romance; puttin' back's his speshulty. His left hand would sort + o' settle as light as a dead leaf over the kyard he's after that a-way—not + a tenth part of a second—an' that pasteboard would come along, + palmed, an' as his hand floats over the box as he's goin' to make the next + turn the kyard would reassoome its cunnin' place inside. An' all as + smoothly serene as pray'r meetin's.' + </p> + <p> + "'An', nacherally, you denounces this felon,' says Colonel Sterett, who's + come in an' who's integrity is of the active sort. + </p> + <p> + "'Nacherally, I don't say a word,' retorts Cherokee. 'I ain't for years + inhabited these roode an' sand-blown regions, remote as they be from best + ideals an' high examples of the East, not to long before have learned the + excellence of that maxim about lettin' every man kill his own snakes. I + says nothin'; I merely looks about to locate the victim of them + machinations with a view of goin' ag'inst his play.' + </p> + <p> + "It's when Cherokee arrives at this place in his recitals that Dave + evolves his interruptions. He's camped by himse'f in a reemote corner of + the room, an' he ain't been noticin' nobody an' nobody's been noticin' + him. All at once, in tones which is low but a heap discordant, Dave hums + to himse'f something that sounds like: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'Bye O babe, lie still in slumber, + Holy angels gyard thy bed.' +</pre> + <p> + "At this, Cherokee in a horrified way stops, an' we-all looks at each + other. Enright makes a dispar'in' gesture towards Dave an' says: + </p> + <p> + "'Gents, first callin' your attention to the fact that Dave ain't + over-drinkt an' that no nosepaint theery is possible in accountin' for his + acts, I asks you for your opinions. As you knows, this thing's been goin' + for'ard for some time, an' I desires to hear if from any standp'int of + public interest do you-all figger that steps should be took?' + </p> + <p> + "In order to fully onderstand Enright in all he means, I oughter lay bar' + that Dave's been conductin' himse'f in a manner not to be explained for + mighty likely she's eight weeks. Yeretofore, thar's no more sociable sport + an' none whose system is easier to follow in all Wolfville than Dave. + While holdin' himse'f at what you might call 'par' on all o'casions, Dave + is still plenty minglesome an' fraternal with the balance of the herd, an' + would no more think of donnin' airs or puttin' on dog than he'd think of + blastin' away at one of us with his gun. Yet eight weeks prior thar + shorely dawns a change. + </p> + <p> + "Which the first symptom—the advance gyard as it were of Dave's + gettin' queer—is when Dave's standin' in front of the post-office. + Thar's a faraway look to Dave at the time, like he's tryin' to settle + whether he's behind or ahead on some deal. While thus wropped in this fit + of abstraction Dan Boggs comes hybernatin' along an' asks Dave to p'int + into the Red Light for a smell of Valley Tan. Dave sort o' rouses up at + this an' fastens on Dan with his eyes, half truculent an' half amazed, + same as if he's shocked at Dan's familiarity. Then he shakes his head + decisive. + </p> + <p> + "'Don't try to braid this mule's tail none!' says Dave, an' at that he + strides off with his muzzle in the air. Boggs is abashed. + </p> + <p> + "'Which these insultin' bluffs of Dave's,' says Boggs, as we canvasses the + play a bit later, 'would cut me to the quick, but I knows it ain't on the + level, Dave ain't himse'f when he declines said nosepaint—his + intellects ain't in camp.' + </p> + <p> + "This ontoward an' onmerited rebuke to Boggs is followed, by further + breaks as hard to savey. Dave ain't no two days alike. One time he's that + haughty he actooally passes Enright himse'f in the street an' no more heed + or recognition than if Wolfville's chief is the last Mexican to come no'th + of the line. Then later Dave is effoosive an' goes about riotin' in the + s'ciety of every gent whereof he cuts the trail. One day he won't drink; + an' the next he's tippin' the canteen from sun-up till he's claimed by + sleep. Which he gets us mighty near distracted; no one can keep a tab on + him. What with them silences an' volyoobilities, sobrieties an' days of + drink, an' all in bewilderin' alternations, he's shore got us goin' four + ways at once. + </p> + <p> + "'In spite of the fact,' continyooes Dan Boggs when we're turnin' Dave's + conduct over in our minds an' rummagin' about for reasons; 'in spite of + the fact, I says, that I'm plenty posted in advance that I'm up ag'inst a + gen'ral shout of derision on account of me bein' sooperstitious, I'm yere + to offer two to one Dave's hoodooed. Moreover, I can name the hoodoo.' + </p> + <p> + "'Whatever is it then?' asks Texas Thompson; 'cut her freely loose an' be + shore of our solemn consid'ration.' + </p> + <p> + "'It's opals,' says Boggs. 'Them gems as every well-instructed gent is + aware is the very spent of bad luck. Dave's wearin' one in his shirt right + now. It's that opal pin wherewith he decks himse'f recent while he's + relaxin' with nosepaint in Tucson. I'm with him at the time an' I says to + him: "Dave, I wouldn't mount that opal none. Which all opals is implacable + hoodoos, an' it'll likely conjure up your rooin." But I might as well have + addressed that counsel to a buffalo bull for all the respectful heed I + gains. Dave gives me a grin, shets one eye plenty cunnin', an' retorts: + "Dan, you're envious; you wants that ornament yourse'f an' you're out to + try an make me diskyard it in your favour. Sech schemes, Dan, can't make + the landin'. Opals that a-way is as harmless as bull snakes. Also, I knows + what becomes my looks; an' while I ain't vain, still, bein' married as + you're aware, it's wisdom in me to seize every openin' for enhancin' my + pulcritoode. The better I looks, the longer Tucson Jennie loves me; an' + I'm out to reetain that lady's heart at any cost." No, I don't onbend in + no response,' goes on Boggs. 'Them accoosations of Dave about me honin' + for said bauble is oncalled for. I'd no more pack a opal than I'd cut for + deal an' embark on a game of seven-up with a ghost. As I states, the luck + of opals is black.' + </p> + <p> + "'I was wont to think so,' says Enright, 'but thar once chances a play, + the same comin' off onder my personal notice, that shakes my convictions + on that p'int. Thar's a broke-down sport—this yere's long ago while + I'm briefly sojournin' in Socorro—who's got a opal, an' he one day + puts it in hock with a kyard sharp for a small stake. The kyard gent says + he ain't alarmed none by these charges made of opals bein' bad luck. It's + a ring, an' he sticks it on his little finger. Two days later he goes + broke ag'in four jacks. + </p> + <p> + "'This terrifies him; he begins to believe in the evil innocences of + opals. He presents the jewelry to a bar-keep, who puts it up, since his + game limits itse'f to sellin' licker an', him bein' plenty careful not to + drink none himse'f, his contracted destinies don't offer no field for + opals an' their malign effects. In less time than a week, however, his + wife leaves him; an' also that drink-shop wherein he officiates is blown + down by a high wind. + </p> + <p> + "'That bar-keep emerges from the rooms of his domestic hopes an' the + desolation of that gin mill, an' endows a lady of his acquaintance with + this opal ornament. It ain't twenty-four hours when she cuts loose an' + weds a Mexican. + </p> + <p> + "'Which by this time, excitement is runnin' high, an' you-all couldn't + have found that citizen in Socorro with a search warrant who declines to + believe in opals bein' bad luck. On the hocks of these catastrophes it's + the common notion that nobody better own that opal; an' said malev'lent + stone in the dooal capac'ty of a cur'osity an' a warnin' is put in the + seegyar case at the Early Rose s'loon. The first day it's thar, a jeweller + sharp come in for his daily drinks—he runs the jewelry store of that + meetropolis an' knows about diamonds an' sim'lar jimcracks same as Peets + does about drugs—an' he considers this talisman, scrootinisin' it a + heap clost. "Do you-all believe in the bad luck of opals?" asks a pard + who's with him. "This thing ain't no opal," says the jeweller sharp, + lookin' up; "it's glass." + </p> + <p> + "'An' so it is: that baleful gewgaw has been sailin' onder a alias; it + ain't no opal more'n a Colt's cartridge is a poker chip. An', of course, + it's plain the divers an' several disasters, from the loss of that kyard + gent's bank-roll down to the Mexican nuptials of the ill-advised lady to + whom I alloodes, can't be laid to its charge. The whole racket shocks an' + shakes me to that degree,' concloods Enright, 'that to-day I ain't got no + settled views on opals', none whatever.' + </p> + <p> + "'Jest the same, I thinks it's opals that's the trouble with Dave,' + declar's Boggs, plenty stubborn an' while the rest of us don't yoonite + with him, we receives his view serious an' respectful so's not to jolt + Boggs's feelin's. + </p> + <p> + "Goin' back, however, to when Dave sets up the warble of 'Bye O baby!' + that a-way, we-all, followin' Enright's s'licitation for our thoughts, + abides a heap still an' makes no response. Enright asks ag'in: 'What do + you-all think?' + </p> + <p> + "At last Boggs, who as I sets forth frequent is a nervous gent, an' one on + whom silence soon begins to prey, ag'in speaks up. Bein' doubtful an' + mindful of Enright's argyment ag'in his opal bluff, however, Boggs don't + advance his concloosions this time at all emphatic. In a tone like he's + out ridin' for information himse'f, Boggs says: + </p> + <p> + "'Mebby, if it ain't opals, it's a case of straight loco.' + </p> + <p> + "'While I wouldn't want to readily think Dave locoed,' says Enright, + 'seein' he's oncommon firm on his mental feet, still he's shore got + something on his mind. An' bein' it is something, it's possible as you + says that Dave's intellects is onhossed.' + </p> + <p> + "'Whatever for a play would it be,' says Cherokee, 'to go an' ask Dave + himse'f right now?' + </p> + <p> + "'I'd be some slow about propoundin' sech surmises to Dave,' says Boggs. + 'He might get hostile; you can put a wager on it, he'd turn out + disagree'ble to a degree, if he did. No, you-all has got to handle a + loonatic with gloves. I knows a gent who entangles himse'f with a + loonatic, askin' questions, an' he gets all shot up.' + </p> + <p> + "'I reckons, however,' says Cherokee, 'that I'll assoome the resk. Dave + an' me's friends; an' I allows if I goes after him in ways both soft an' + careless, so as not to call forth no suspicions, he'll take it + good-humoured even if he is locoed.' + </p> + <p> + "We-all sets breathless while Cherokee sa'nters down to where Dave's still + wropped in them melodies. + </p> + <p> + "'Whatever be you hummin' toones for, Dave?' asks Cherokee all accidental + like. + </p> + <p> + "'Which I'm rehearsin',' says Dave, an' he shows he's made impatient. + 'Don't come infringin' about me with no questions,' goes on Dave. 'I'm + like the ancient Romans, I've got troubles of my own; an' no sport who + calls himse'f my friend will go aggravatin' me with ontimely + inquis'tiveness.' Then Dave gets up an' pulls his freight an' leaves us + more onsettled than at first. + </p> + <p> + "For a full hour, we does nothin' but canvass this yere question of Dave's + aberrations. At last a idee seizes us. Thar's times when Dave's been seen + caucusin' with Missis Rucker an' Doc Peets. Most likely one of 'em would + be able to shed a ray on Dave. By a excellent coincidence, an' as if to + he'p us out, Peets comes in as Texas Thompson su'gests that mebby the + Doc's qualified to onravel the myst'ry. + </p> + <p> + "'Tell you-all folks what's the matter with Dave?' says Peets. 'Pards, + it's simply not in the deck. Meanin' no disrespects—for you gents + knows me too well to dream of me harborin' anything but feelin's of the + highest regyards for one an' all—I'll have to leave you camped in + original darkness. It would be breakin' professional confidences. Shore, I + saveys Dave's troubles an' the causes of these vagaries of his; jest the + same the traditions of the medical game forces me to hold 'em sacred an' + secret.' + </p> + <p> + "'Tell us at least, Doc,' says Enright, 'whether Dave's likely to grow + voylent. If he is, it's only proper that we arranges to tie him down.' + </p> + <p> + "'Dave may be boisterous later,' says Peets, an' his reply comes slow an' + thoughtful, like he's considerin'; 'he may make a joyful uproar, but he + won't wax dangerous.' This yere's as far as Peets'll go; he declines to + talk longer, on professional grounds. + </p> + <p> + "'Which suspense, this a-way,' says Boggs, after Peets is gone, 'an' us no + wiser than when he shows in the door, makes me desp'rate. I'll offer the + motion: Let's prance over in a bunch, an' demand a explanation of Missis + Rucker. Dave's been talkin' to her as much as ever he has to Peets, an' + thar's no professional hobbles on the lady; she's footloose, an' free to + speak.' + </p> + <p> + "'We waits on you, Marm,' says Enright, when ten minutes later Boggs, + Cherokee, Texas Thompson an' he is in the kitchen of the O. K. Restauraw + where Missis Rucker is slicin' salt hoss an' layin' the fragrant + foundations of supper; 'we waits on you-all to ask your advice. Dave + Tutt's been carryin' on in a manner an' form at once doobious an' + threatenin'. It ain't too much to say that we-all fears the worst. We + comes now to invite you to tell us all you knows of Dave an' whatever it + is that so onsettles him. Our idee is that you onderstands a heap about + it.' + </p> + <p> + "'See yere, Sam Enright,' retorts Missis Rucker, pausin' over the salt + hoss, 'you ain't doin' yourse'f proud. You better round up this herd of + inebriates an' get 'em back to the Red Light. Thar's nothin' the matter + with Dave; leastwise if it was the matter with you, you'd be some + improved. Dave Tutt's a credit to this camp; never more so than now; the + same bein' a mighty sight more'n I could say of any of you-all an' stick + to the trooth.' + </p> + <p> + "'Then you does know, Missis Rucker,' says Enright, 'the secret that's + gnawin' at Dave.' + </p> + <p> + "'Know it,' replies Misses Rucker, 'of course, I knows it. But I don't + propose to discuss it none with you tarrapins. I ain't got no patience + with sech dolts! Now that you-all is yere, however, I'll give you notice + that to-morry you can begin to do your own cookin' till you hears further + word from me. I'm goin' to be otherwise an' more congenially engaged. Most + likely I'll be back in my kitchen ag'in in a day or two; but I makes no + promises. An' ontil sech time as I shows up, you-all can go scuffle for + yourse'fs. I've got more important dooties jest now on my hands than + cookin' chuck for sots.' + </p> + <p> + "As Missis Rucker speaks up mighty vigorous, an' as none of us has the + nerve to ask her further an' take the resk of turnin' loose her temper, we + lines out ag'in for the Red Light no cl'arer than what we was. + </p> + <p> + "'I could ask her more questions,' says Enright, 'but, gents, I didn't + deem it wise. Missis Rucker is a most admirable character; but I'm + sooperstitious about crowdin' her too clost. Like Boggs says about opals, + thar's plenty of bad luck lurkin' about Missis Rucker's environs if you + only goes about its deevelopment the right way.' + </p> + <p> + "'The sityooation is too many for me,' says Boggs, goin' up to the bar for + a drink, 'I gives it up. I ain't got a notion left, onless it is that + Dave's runnin' for office; that is, I might entertain sech a thought only + thar ain't no office.' + </p> + <p> + "'The next day Missis Rucker abandons her post; an' we tharupon finds that + feedin' ourse'fs keeps us busy an' we don't have much time to discuss + Dave. Also, Dave disappears;—in fact, both Dave an' Missis Rucker + fades from view. + </p> + <p> + "It's about fo'rth drink time the evenin' of the third day, an' most of us + is in the Red Light. Thar's a gloom overhangs us like a fog. Mebby it's + the oncertainties which envelops Dave, mebby it's because Missis Rucker's + done deserted an' left us to rustle for ourse'fs or starve. Most of us is + full of present'ments that something's due to happen. + </p> + <p> + "All at once, an' onexpected, Dave walks in. A sigh of relief goes up, for + the glance we gives him shows he's all right—sane as Enright—clothed + an' in his right mind as set fo'th in holy writ. Also, his countenance is + a wrinkle of glee. + </p> + <p> + "'Gents,' says Dave, an' his air is that patronisin' it would have been + exasperatin' only we're so relieved, 'gents, I'm come to seek + congratyoolations an' set 'em up. Peets an' that motherly angel, Missis + Rucker, allows I'll be of more use yere than in my own house, whereat I + nacherally floats over. Coupled with a su'gestion that we drinks, I wants + to say that he's a boy, an' that I brands him "Enright Peets Tutt."'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. With the Apache's Compliments. + </h2> + <p> + "Ondoubted," observed the Old Cattleman, during one of our long excursive + talks, "ondoubted, the ways an' the motives of Injuns is past the white + man's findin' out. He's shore a myst'ry, the Injun is! an' where the + paleface forever fails of his s'lootion is that the latter ropes at this + problem in copper-colour from the standp'int of the Caucasian. Can a dog + onderstand a wolf? Which I should remark not! + </p> + <p> + "It's a heap likely that with Injuns, the white man in his turn is jest as + difficult to solve. An' without the Injun findin' onusual fault with 'em, + thar's a triangle of things whereof the savage accooses the paleface. The + Western Injuns at least—for I ain't posted none on Eastern savages, + the same bein' happily killed off prior to my time—the Western + Injuns lays the bee, the wild turkey, an' that weed folks calls the + 'plantain,' at the white man's door. They-all descends upon the Injun hand + in hand. No, the Injun don't call the last-named veg'table a 'plantain;' + he alloodes to it as 'the White Man's Foot.' + </p> + <p> + "Thar's traits dominant among Injuns which it wouldn't lower the standin' + of a white man if he ups an' imitates a whole lot. I once encounters a + savage—one of these blanket Injuns with feathers in his ha'r—an' + bein' idle an' careless of what I'm about, I staggers into casyooal talk + with him. This buck's been East for the first time in his darkened c'reer + an' visited the Great Father in Washin'ton. I asks him what he regyards as + the deepest game he in his travels goes ag'inst. At first he allows that + pie, that a-way, makes the most profound impression. But I bars pie, an' + tells him to su'gest the biggest thing he strikes, not on no bill of fare. + Tharupon, abandonin' menoos an' wonders of the table, he roominates a + moment an' declar's that the steamboat—now that pie is exclooded—ought + to get the nomination. + </p> + <p> + "'The choo-choo boat,' observes this intelligent savage, 'is the + paleface's big medicine.' + </p> + <p> + "'You'll have a list of marvels,' I says, 'to avalanche upon the people + when you cuts the trail of your ancestral tribe ag'in?' + </p> + <p> + "'No,' retorts the savage, shakin' his head ontil the skelp-lock whips his + y'ears, an' all mighty decisive; 'no; won't tell Injun nothin'.' + </p> + <p> + "'Why not?' I demands. + </p> + <p> + "'If I tell,' he says, 'they no believe. They think it all heap lie.' + </p> + <p> + "Son, consider what a example to travellers is set by that ontootered + savage? That's what makes me say thar be traits possessed of Injuns, + personal, which a paleface might improve himse'f by copyin'. + </p> + <p> + "Bein' white myse'f, I'm born with notions ag'in Injuns. I learns of their + deestruction with relief, an' never sees one pirootin' about, full of life + an' vivacity, but the spectacle fills me with vain regrets. All the same + thar's a load o' lies told East concernin' the Injun. I was wont from time + to time to discuss these red folks with Gen'ral Stanton, who for years is + stationed about in Arizona, an'—merely for the love he b'ars to + fightin'—performs as chief of scouts for Gen'ral Crook. + </p> + <p> + "'Our divers wars with the Apaches,' says Gen'ral Stanton, 'comes more as + the frootes of a misdeal by a locoed marshal than anything else besides. + When Crook first shows up in Arizona—this is in the long ago—an' + starts to inculcate peace among the Apaches, he gets old Jeffords to bring + Cochise to him to have a pow-wow. Jeffords rounds up Cochise an' herds him + with soft words an' big promises into the presence of Crook. The Grey Fox—which + was the Injun name for Crook—makes Cochise a talk. Likewise he + p'ints out to the chief the landmarks an' mountain peaks that indicates + the Mexican line. An' the Grey Fox explains to Cochise that what cattle is + killed an' what skelps is took to the south'ard of the line ain't goin' to + bother him a bit. But no'th'ard it's different; thar in that sacred region + cattle killin' an' skelp collectin' don't go. The Grey Fox shoves the + information on Cochise that every trick turned on the American side of the + line has done got to partake of the characteristics of a love affair, or + the Grey Fox with his young men in bloo—his walk-a-heaps an' his + hoss-warriors—noomerous as the grass, they be—will come down + on Cochise an' his Apaches like a coyote on a sage hen or a pan of milk + from a top shelf an' make 'em powerful hard to find. + </p> + <p> + "'Cochise smokes an' smokes, an' after considerin' the bluff of the Grey + Fox plenty profound, allows he won't call it. Thar shall be peace between + the Apache an' the paleface to the no'th'ard of that line. Then the Grey + Fox an' Cochise shakes hands an' says "How!" an' Cochise, with a bolt or + two of red calico wherewith to embellish his squaws, goes squanderin' back + to his people, permeated to the toes with friendly intentions. + </p> + <p> + "'Sech is Cochise's reverence for his word, coupled with his fear of the + Grey Fox, that years float by an' every deefile an' canyon of the + Southwest is as safe as the aisles of a church to the moccasins of the + paleface. Thus it continyoos ontil thar comes a evenin' when a jimcrow + marshal, with more six-shooters than hoss sense, allows he'll apprehend + Cochise's brother a whole lot for some offense that ain't most likely + deuce high in the category of troo crime. This ediot offishul reaches for + the relative of Cochise; an' as the latter—bein' a savage an' + tharfore plumb afraid of captivity—leaps back'ard like he's met up + with a rattlesnake, the marshal puts his gun on him an' plugs him so good + that he cashes in right thar. The marshal says later in explanation of his + game that Cochise's brother turns hostile an' drops his hand on his knife. + Most likely he does; a gent's hands—even a Apache's—has done + got to be some'ers. + </p> + <p> + "'But the killin' overturns the peaceful programmes built up between the + Grey Fox an' Cochise. When the old chief hears of his brother bein' + downed, he paints himse'f black an' red an' sends a bundle of arrows tied + with a rattlesnake skin to the Grey Fox with a message to count his people + an' look out for himse'f. The Grey Fox, who realises that the day of peace + has ended an' the sun gone down to rise on a mornin' of trouble, fills the + rattlesnake skin with cartridges an' sends 'em back with a word to Cochise + to turn himse'f loose. From that moment the war-jig which is to last for + years is on. After Cochise comes Geronimo, an' after Geronimo comes Nana; + an' one an' all, they adds a heap of spice to life in Arizona. It's no + exaggeration to put the number of palefaces who lose their ha'r as the + direct result of that fool marshal layin' for Cochise's brother an' that + Injun's consequent cuttin' off, at a round ten thousand. Shore! thar's + scores an' scores who's been stood up an' killed in the hills whereof we + never gets a whisper. I, myse'f, in goin' through the teepees of a Apache + outfit, after we done wipes 'em off the footstool, sees the long ha'r of + seven white women who couldn't have been no time dead. + </p> + <p> + "'Who be they? Folks onknown who's got shot into while romancin' along + among the hills with schemes no doubt of settlement in Californy. + </p> + <p> + "'With what we saveys of the crooelties of the Apaches, thar's likewise a + sperit of what book-sharps calls chivalry goes with 'em an' albeit on one + ha'r-hung o'casion I profits mightily tharby, I'm onable to give it a + reason. You wouldn't track up on no sim'lar weaknesses among the palefaces + an' you-all can put down a stack on that. + </p> + <p> + "'It's when I'm paymaster,' says the Gen'ral, reachin' for the canteen, + 'an' I starts fo'th from Fort Apache on a expedition to pay off the nearby + troops. I've got six waggons an' a escort of twenty men. For myse'f, at + the r'ar of the procession, I journeys proudly in a amb'lance. Our first + camp is goin' to be on top of the mesa out a handful of miles from the + Fort. + </p> + <p> + "'The word goes along the line to observe a heap of caution an' not + straggle or go rummagin' about permiscus, for the mountains is alive with + hostiles. It's five for one that a frownin' cloud of 'em is hangin' on our + flanks from the moment we breaks into the foothills. No, they'd be afoot; + the Apaches ain't hoss-back Injuns an' only fond of steeds as food. He + never rides on one, a Apache don't, but he'll camp an' build a fire an' + eat a corral full of ponies if you'll furnish 'em, an' lick his lips in + thankfulness tharfore. But bein' afoot won't hinder 'em from keepin' up + with my caravan, for in the mountains the snow is to the waggon beds an' + the best we can do, is wriggle along the trail like a hurt snake at a gait + which wouldn't tire a papoose. + </p> + <p> + "'We've been pushin' on our windin' uphill way for mighty likely half a + day, an' I'm beginnin'—so dooms slows is our progress—to + despair of gettin' out on top the mesa before dark, when to put a coat of + paint on the gen'ral trouble the lead waggon breaks down. I turns out in + the snow with the rest, an' we-all puts in a heated an' highly profane + half-hour restorin' the waggon to health. At last we're onder headway + ag'in, an' I wades back through the snow to my amb'lance. + </p> + <p> + "'As I arrives at the r'ar of my offishul waggon, it occurs to me that + I'll fill a pipe an' smoke some by virchoo of my nerves, the same bein' + torn and frayed with the many exasperations of the day. I gives my driver + the word to wait a bit, an' searchin' forth my tobacco outfit loads an' + lights my pipe. I'm planted waist deep in the mountain snows, but havin' + on hossman boots the snow ain't no hardship. + </p> + <p> + "'While I'm fussin' with my pipe, the six waggons an' my twenty men curves + 'round a bend in the trail an' is hid by a corner of the canyon. I + reflects at the time—though I ain't really expectin' no perils—that + I'd better catch up with my escort, if it's only to set the troops a + example. As I exhales my first puff of smoke and is on the verge of + tellin' my driver to pull out—this yere mule-skinner is settin' so + that matters to the r'ar is cut off from his gaze by the canvas cover of + my waggon—a slight noise attracts me, an' castin' my eye along the + trail we've been climbin', I notes with feelin's of disgust a full dozen + Apaches comin'. An' it ain't no hyperbole to say they're shore comin' all + spraddled out. + </p> + <p> + "'In the lead for all the deep snow, an' racin' up on me like the wind, is + a big befeathered buck, painted to the eyes; an' in his right fist, raised + to hurl it, is a 12-foot lance. As I surveys this pageant, I realises how + he'pless, utter, I be, an' with what ca'mness I may, adjusts my mind to + the fact that I've come to the end of my trails. He'pless? Shore! I'm + stuck as firm in the snow as one of the pines about me; my guns is in the + waggon outen immediate reach; thar I stands as certain a prey to that + Apache with the lance as he's likely to go up ag'inst doorin' the whole + campaign. Why, I'm a pick-up! I remembers my wife an' babies, an' sort o' + says "Goodbye!" to 'em, for I'm as certain of my finish as I be of the + hills, or the snows beneath my feet. However, since it's all I can do, I + continyoos to smoke an' watch my execootioners come on. + </p> + <p> + "'The big lance Injun is the dominatin' sperit of the bunch. As he draws + up to me—he's fifty foot in advance of the others—he makes his + lance shiver from p'int to butt. It fairly sings a death song! I can feel + it go through an' through me a score of times. But I stands thar facin' + him; for, of course, I wants it to go through from the front. I don't + allow to be picked up later with anything so onfashionable as a lance + wound in my back. That would be mighty onprofessional! + </p> + <p> + "'You onderstands that what now requires minutes in the recital don't + cover seconds as a play. The lance Injun runs up to within a rod of me an' + halts. His arm goes back for a mighty cast of the lance; the weepon is + vibrant with the very sperit of hate an' malice. His eyes, through a + fringe of ha'r that has fallen over 'em, glows out like a cat's eyes in + the dark. + </p> + <p> + "We stands thar—I still puffin my pipe, he with his lance raised—an' + we looks on each other—I an' that paint-daubed buck! I can't say + whatever is his notion of me, but on my side I never beholds a savage who + appeals to me as a more evil an' forbiddin' picture! + </p> + <p> + "'As I looks him over a change takes place. The fire in his eyes dies out, + his face relaxes its f'rocity, an' after standin' for a moment an' as the + balance of the band arrives, he turns the lance over his arm an' with the + butt presented, surrenders it into my hand. You can gamble I don't lose no + time in arguin' the question, but accepts the lance with all that it + implies. Bringin' the weepon to a 'Right Shoulder' an' with my mind + relieved, I gives the word to my mule-skinner—who's onconscious of + the transactions in life an' death goin' on behind his back—an' with + that, we-all takes up our march an' soon comes up on the escort where it's + ag'in fixed firm in the snow about a furlong to the fore. My savages + follows along with me, an' each of 'em as grave as squinch owls an' tame + as tabby cats. + </p> + <p> + "'Joke? no; them Apaches was as hostile as Gila monsters! But beholdin' + me, as they regyards it—for they don't in their ontaught simplicity + make allowance for me bein' implanted in the snow, gunless an' he'pless—so + brave, awaitin' deestruction without a quiver, their admiration mounts to + sech heights it drowns within 'em every thought of cancellin' me with that + lance, an' tharupon they pays me their savage compliments in manner an' + form deescribed. They don't regyard themse'fs as surrenderin' neither; + they esteems passin' me the lance as inauguratin' a armistice an' looks on + themse'fs as guests of honor an' onder my safegyard, free to say "How!" + an' vamos back to the warpath ag'in whenever the sperit of blood begins to + stir within their breasts. I knows enough of their ways to be posted as to + what they expects; an' bein', I hopes, a gent of integrity, I accedes to + 'em that exact status which they believes they enjoys. + </p> + <p> + "'They travels with me that day, eats with me that evenin' when we makes + our camp, has a drink with me all 'round, sings savage hymns to me + throughout the night, loads up with chuck in the mornin', offers me no end + of flattery as a dead game gent whom they respects, says <i>adios</i>; an' + then they scatters like a flock of quail. Also, havin' resoomed business + on old-time lines, they takes divers shots at us with their Winchesters + doorin' the next two days, an' kills a hoss an' creases my sergeant. Why + don't I corral an' hold 'em when they're in my clutch? It would have been + breakin' the trooce as Injuns an' I onderstands sech things; moreover, + they let me go free without conditions when I was loser by every roole of + the game.'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. The Mills of Savage Gods. + </h2> + <p> + "Thar might, of course, be romances in the West," observed the Old + Cattleman, reflectively, in response to my question, "but the folks ain't + got no time. Romance that a-way demands leesure, an' a party has to be + more or less idlin' about to get what you-all might style romantic action. + Take that warjig whereof I recently relates an' wherein this yere Wild + Bill Hickox wipes out the McCandlas gang—six to his Colt's, four to + his bowie, an' one to his Hawkins rifle; eleven in all—I asks him + myse'f later when he's able to talk, don't he regyard the eepisode as some + romantic. An' Bill says, 'No, I don't notice no romance tharin; what + impresses me most is that she's shore a zealous fight—also, mighty + busy.' + </p> + <p> + "Injuns would be romantic, only they're so plumb ignorant they never once + saveys. Thar's no Injun word for 'romantic'; them benighted savages never + tumblin' to sech a thing as romance bein' possible. An' yet said + aborigines engages in plays which a eddicated Eastern taste with leesure + on its hands an' gropin' about for entertainment would pass on as + romantic. + </p> + <p> + "When I'm pesterin' among the Osages on that one o'casion that I'm tryin' + to make a round-up of my health, the old buck Strike Axe relates to me a + tale which I allers looks on as possessin' elements. Shore; an' it's as + simple an' straight as the sights of a gun. It's about a squaw an' three + bucks, an' thar's enough blood in it to paint a waggon. Which I reckons + now I'll relate it plain an' easy an' free of them frills wherewith a + professional racontoor is so prone to overload his narratives. + </p> + <p> + "The Black Cloud is a Osage medicine man an' has high repoote about + Greyhoss where he's pitched his teepee an' abides. He's got a squaw, + Sunbright, an' he's plenty jealous of this yere little Sunbright. The + Black Cloud has three squaws, an' Sunbright is the youngest. The others is + Sunbright's sisters, for a Osage weds all the sisters of a fam'ly at once, + the oldest sister goin' to the front at the nuptials to deal the weddin' + game for the entire outfit. + </p> + <p> + "Now this Sunbright ain't over-enamoured of Black Cloud; he's only a + half-blood Injun for one thing, his father bein' a buffalo-man (negro) + who's j'ined the Osages, an' Sunbright don't take kindly to his nose which + is some flatter than the best rools of Osage beauty demands; an' likewise + thar's kinks in his ha'r. Still, Sunbright sort o' keeps her aversions to + herse'f, an' if it ain't for what follows she most likely would have + travelled to her death-blankets an' been given a seat on a hill with a + house of rocks built 'round her—the same bein' the usual burial play + of a Osage—without Black Cloud ever saveyin' that so far from + interestin' Sunbright, he only makes her tired. + </p> + <p> + "Over south from Black Cloud's Greyhoss camp an' across the Arkansaw an' + some'ers between the Polecat an' the Cimmaron thar's livin' a young Creek + buck called the Lance. He's straight an' slim an' strong as the weepon + he's named for; an' he like Black Cloud is a medicine sharp of cel'bration + an' stands way up in the papers. The Creeks is never weary of talkin' + about the Lance an' what a marvel as a medicine man he is; also, by way of + insultin' the Osages, they declar's onhesitatin' that the Lance lays over + Black Cloud like four tens, an' offers to bet hosses an' blankets an' go + as far as the Osages likes that this is troo. + </p> + <p> + "By what Strike Axe informs me,—an' he ain't none likely to overplay + in his statements—by what Strike Axe tells me, I says, the Lance + must shore have been the high kyard as a medicine man. Let it get dark + with the night an' no moon in the skies, an' the Lance could take you-all + into his medicine lodge, an' you'd hear the sperits flappin' their pinions + like some one flappin' a blanket, an' thar'd be whisperin's an' goin's on + outside the lodge an' in, while fire-eyes would show an' burn an' glower + up in the peak of the teepee; an' all plenty skeary an' mystifiyin'. + Besides these yere accomplishments the Lance is one of them mesmerism + sports who can set anamiles to dreamin'. He could call a coyote or a fox, + or even so fitful an' nervous a prop'sition as a antelope; an' little by + little, snuffin' an' snortin', or if it's a coyote, whinin', them beasts + would approach the Lance ontil they're that clost he'd tickle their heads + with his fingers while they stands shiverin' an' sweatin' with + apprehensions. You can put a bet on it, son, that accordin' to this + onbiassed buck, Strike Axe, the Lance is ondoubted the big medicine + throughout the Injun range. + </p> + <p> + "As might be assoomed, the Black Cloud is some heated ag'in the Lance an' + looks on him with baleful eye as a rival. Still, Black Cloud has his nerve + with him constant, an' tharfore one day when the Osages an' Creeks has + been dispootin' touchin' the reespective powers of him an' the Lance, an' + this latter Injun offers to come over to Greyhoss an' make medicine ag'in + him, Black Cloud never hesitates or hangs back like a dog tied onder a + waggon, but calls the bluff a heap prompt an' tells the Lance to come. + </p> + <p> + "Which the day is set an' the Lance shows in the door, as monte sharps + would say. Black Cloud an' the Lance tharupon expands themse'fs, an' + delights the assembled Creeks an' Osages with their whole box of tricks, + an' each side is braggin' an' boastin' an' puttin' it up that their gent + is most likely the soonest medicine man who ever buys black paint. It's + about hoss an' hoss between the two. + </p> + <p> + "Black Cloud accompanies himse'f to this contest with a pure white pony + which has eyes red as roobies—a kind o' albino pony—an' he + gives it forth that this milk-coloured bronco is his 'big medicine' or + familiar sperit. The Lance observes that the little red-eyed hoss is + mighty impressive to the savages, be they Creeks or Osages. At last he + says to Black Cloud: + </p> + <p> + "'To show how my medicine is stronger than yours, to-morry I'll make your + red-eyed big medicine bronco go lame in his off hind laig.' + </p> + <p> + "Black Cloud grins scornful at this; he allows that no sport can make his + white pony go lame. + </p> + <p> + "He's plumb wrong; the next mornin' the white pony is limpin' an' draggin' + his off hind hoof, an' when he's standin' still he p'ints the toe down + like something's fetched loose. Black Cloud is sore; but he can't find no + cactus thorn nor nothin' to bring about the lameness an' he don't know + what to make of the racket. Black Cloud's up ag'inst it, an' the audience + begins to figger that the Lance's' medicine is too strong for Black Cloud. + </p> + <p> + "What's the trouble with the red-eyed pony? That's simple enough, son. The + Lance done creeps over in the night an' ties a hossha'r tight about the + pony's laig jest above the fetlock. Black Cloud ain't up to no sech move, + the same bein' a trade secret of the Lance's an' bein' the hossha'r is hid + in the ha'r on the pony's laig, no one notes its presence. + </p> + <p> + "After Black Cloud looks his red-eyed big medicine pony all over an' can't + onderstand its lameness, the Lance asks him will he cure it. Black Cloud, + who's sc'owlin' like midnight by now, retorts that he will. So he gets his + pipe an' fills it with medicine tobacco an' blows a mouthful of smoke in + the red-eyed pony's nose. Sech remedies don't work; that pony still limps + on three laigs, draggin' the afflicted member mighty pensive. + </p> + <p> + "At last the Lance gives Black Cloud a patronisin' smile an' says that his + medicine'll cure the pony sound an' well while you're crackin' off a gun. + He walks up to the pony an' looks long in its red eyes; the pony's y'ears + an' tail droops, its head hangs down, an' it goes mighty near to sleep. + Then the Lance rubs his hand two or three times up an' down the lame laig + above the fetlock an' elim'nates that hossha'r ligature an' no one the + wiser. A moment after, he wakes up the red-eyed pony an' to the amazement + of the Osages an' the onbounded delight of the Creeks, the pony is no + longer lame, an' the laig so late afflicted is as solid an' healthy as a + sod house. What's bigger medicine still, the red-eyed pony begins to + follow the Lance about like a dog an' as if it's charmed; an' it likewise + turns in to bite an' r'ar an' pitch an' jump sideways if Black Cloud seeks + to put his paw on him. Then all the Injuns yell with one voice: 'The Lance + has won the Black Cloud's big medicine red-eyed pony away from him.' + </p> + <p> + "The Lance is shore the fashion, an' Black Cloud discovers he ain't a + four-spot by compar'son. His repootation is gone, an' the Lance is + regyarded as the great medicine along the Arkansaw. + </p> + <p> + "Sunbright is lookin' on at these manoovers an' her heart goes out to the + Lance; she falls more deeply in love with him than even the red-eyed + bronco does. That evenin' as the Lance is goin' to his camp onder the + cottonwoods, he meets up with Sunbright standin' still as a tree in his + path with her head bowed like a flower that's gone to sleep. The Lance + saveys; he knows Sunbright; likewise he knows what her plantin' herse'f in + his way an' her droopin' attitoode explains. He looks at her, an' says; + </p> + <p> + "'I am a guest of the Osages, an' to-night is not the night. Wait ontil + the Lance is in his own teepee on the Polecat; then come.' + </p> + <p> + "Sunbright never moves, never looks up; but she hears an' she knows this + is right. No buck should steal a squaw while he's a guest. The Lance walks + on an' leaves her standin', head bowed an' motionless. + </p> + <p> + "Two days later the Lance is ag'in in his own teepee. Sunbright counts the + time an' knows that he must be thar. She skulks from the camp of Black + Cloud an' starts on her journey to be a new wife to a new husband. + </p> + <p> + "Sunbright is a mile from camp when she's interrupted. It's Black Cloud + who heads her off. Black Cloud may not be the boss medicine man, but he's + no fool, an' his eyes is like a wolf's eyes an' can see in the dark. He + guesses the new love which has stampeded Sunbright. + </p> + <p> + "Injuns is a mighty cur'ous outfit. Now if Sunbright had succeeded in + gettin' to the lodge of her new husband, the divorce between her an' Black + Cloud would have been complete. Moreover, if on the day followin' or at + any time Black Cloud had found her thar, he wouldn't so much as have + wagged a y'ear or batted a eye in recognition. He wouldn't have let on he + ever hears of a squaw called 'Sunbright.' This ca'mness would be born of + two causes. It would be ag'in Injun etiquette to go trackin' about makin' + a onseemly uproar an' disturbin' the gen'ral peace for purely private + causes. Then ag'in it would be beneath the dignity of a high grade savage + an' a big medicine sharp to conduct himse'f like he'd miss so trivial a + thing as a squaw. + </p> + <p> + "But ontil Sunbright fulfils her elopement projects an' establishes + herse'f onder the protectin' wing of her new love, she's runnin' resks. + She's still the Black Cloud's squaw; an' after she pulls her marital + picket pin an' while she's gettin' away, if the bereaved Black Cloud + crosses up with her he's free, onder the license permitted to Injun + husbands, to kill her an' skelp her an' dispose of her as consists best + with his moods. + </p> + <p> + "Sunbright knows this; an' when she runs ag'in the Black Cloud in her + flight, she seats herse'f in the long prairie grass an' covers her head + with her blanket an' speaks never a word. + </p> + <p> + "'Does Sunbright so love me,' says Black Cloud, turnin' aheap ugly, 'that + she comes to meet me? Is it for me she has combed her h'ar an' put on a + new feather an' beads? Does she wear her new blanket an' paint her face + bright for Black Cloud? Or does she dress herse'f like the sun for that + Creek coyote, the Lance?'" Sunbright makes no reply, Black Cloud looks at + her a moment an' then goes on: "It's for the Lance! Good! I will fix the + Sunbright so she will be a good squaw to my friend, the Lance, an' never + run from his lodge as she does now from Black Cloud's.' With that he + stoops down, an' a slash of his knife cuts the heel-tendons of Sunbright's + right foot. She groans, and writhes about the prairie, while Black Cloud + puts his knife back in his belt, gets into his saddle ag'in an' rides + away. + </p> + <p> + "The next day a Creek boy finds the body of Sunbright where she rolls + herse'f into the Greyhoss an' is drowned. + </p> + <p> + "When the Lance hears the story an' sees the knife slash on Sunbright's + heel, he reads the trooth. It gives him a bad heart; he paints his face + red an' black an thinks how he'll be revenged. Next day he sends a runner + to Black Cloud with word that Black Cloud has stole his hoss. This is to + arrange a fight on virtuous grounds. The Lance says that in two days when + the sun is overhead Black Cloud must come to the three cottonwoods near + the mouth of the Cimmaron an' fight, or the Lance on the third day an' + each day after will hunt for him as he'd hunt a wolf ontil Black Cloud is + dead. The Black Cloud's game, an' sends word that on the second day he'll + be thar by the three cottonwoods when the sun is overhead; also, that he + will fight with four arrows. + </p> + <p> + "Then Black Cloud goes at once, for he has no time to lose, an' kills a + dog near his lodge. He cuts out its heart an' carries it to the rocky + canyon where the rattlesnakes have a village. Black Cloud throws the dog's + heart among them an' teases them with it; an' the rattlesnakes bite the + dog's heart ag'in an' ag'in ontil it's as full of p'isen as a bottle is of + rum. After that, Black Cloud puts the p'isened heart in the hot sun an' + lets it fret an' fester ontil jest before he goes to his dooel with the + Lance. As he's about to start, Black Cloud dips the four steel arrowheads + over an' over in the p'isened heart, bein' careful to dry the p'isen on + the arrowheads; an' now whoever is touched with these arrows so that the + blood comes is shore to die. The biggest medicine in the nation couldn't + save him. + </p> + <p> + "Thar's forty Osage and forty Creek bucks at the three cottonwoods to see + that the dooelists get a squar' deal. The Lance an' Black Cloud is thar; + each has a bow an' four arrows; each has made medicine all night that he + may kill his man. + </p> + <p> + "But the dooel strikes a obstacle. + </p> + <p> + "Thar's a sombre, sullen sport among the Osages who's troo name is the + 'Bob-cat,' but who's called the 'Knife Thrower.' The Bob-cat is one of the + Osage forty. Onknown to the others, this yere Bob-cat—who it looks + like is a mighty impressionable savage—is himse'f in love with the + dead Sunbright. An' he's hot an' cold because he's fearful that in this + battle of the bows the Lance'll down Black Cloud an' cheat him, the + Bob-cat, of his own revenge. The chance is too much; the Bob-cat can't + stand it an' resolves to get his stack down first. An' so it happens that + as Black Cloud an' the Lance, painted in their war colours, is walkin' to + their places, a nine-inch knife flickers like a gleam of light from the + hand of the Bob-cat, an' merely to show that he ain't called the 'Knife + Thrower' for fun, catches Black Cloud flush in the throat, an' goes + through an' up to the gyard at the knife-haft. Black Cloud dies standin', + for the knife p'int bites his spine. + </p> + <p> + "No, son, no one gets arrested; Injuns don't have jails, for the mighty + excellent reason that no Injun culprit ever vamoses an' runs away. Injun + crim'nals, that a-way, allers stands their hands an' takes their hemlock. + The Osages, who for Injuns is some shocked at the Bob-cat's interruption + of the dooel—it bein' mighty onparliamentary from their standp'ints—tries + the Bob-cat in their triboonals for killin' Black Cloud an' he's decided + on as guilty accordin' to their law. They app'ints a day for the Bob-cat + to be shot; an' as he ain't present at the trial none, leavin' his end of + the game to be looked after by his reelatives, they orders a kettle-tender + or tribe crier to notify the Bob-cat when an' where he's to come an' have + said sentence execooted upon him. When he's notified, the Bob-cat don't + say nothin'; which is satisfactory enough, as thar's nothin' to be said, + an' every Osage knows the Bob-cat'll be thar at the drop of the + handkerchief if he's alive. + </p> + <p> + "It so turns out; the Bob-cat's thar as cool as wild plums. He's dressed + in his best blankets an' leggin's; an' his feathers an' gay colours makes + him a overwhelmin' match for peacocks. Thar's a white spot painted over + his heart. + </p> + <p> + "The chief of the Osages, who's present to see jestice done, motions to + the Bob-cat, an' that gent steps to a red blanket an' stands on its edge + with all the blanket spread in front of him on the grass. The Bob-cat + stands on the edge, as he saveys when he's plugged that he'll fall for'ard + on his face. When a gent gets the gaff for shore, he falls for'ard. If a + party is hit an' falls back'ards, you needn't get excited none; he's only + creased an' 'll get over it. + </p> + <p> + "Wherefore, as I states, the Bob-cat stands on the edge of the blanket so + it's spread out in front to catch him as he drops. Thar's not a word spoke + by either the Bob-cat or the onlookers, the latter openin' out into a lane + behind so the lead can go through. When the Bob-cat's ready, his cousin, a + buck whose name is Little Feather, walks to the front of the blanket an' + comes down careful with his Winchester on the white mark over the + Bob-cat's heart. Thar's a moment's silence as the Bob-cat's cousin runs + his eye through the sights; thar's a flash an' a hatful of gray smoke; the + white spot turns red with blood; an' then the Bob-cat falls along on his + face as soft as a sack of corn. + </p> + <p> + "What becomes of the Lance? It's two weeks later when that scientist is + waited on by a delegation of Osages. They reminds him that Sunbright has + two sisters, the same bein' now widows by virchoo of the demise of that + egreegious Black Cloud. Also, the Black Cloud was rich; his teepee was + sumptuous, an' he's left a buckskin coat with ivory elk teeth sewed onto + it plenty as stars at night. The coat is big medicine; moreover thar's the + milk-white big medicine bronco with red eyes. The Osage delegation puts + forth these trooths while the Lance sets cross-laiged on a b'arskin an' + smokes willow bark with much dignity. In the finish, the Osage outfit + p'ints up to the fact that their tribe is shy a medicine man, an' a gent + of the Lance's accomplishments who can charm anamiles an' lame broncos + will be a mighty welcome addition to the Osage body politic. The Lance + lays down his pipe at this an' says, 'It is enough!' An' the next day he + sallies over an' weds them two relicts of Black Cloud an' succeeds to that + dead necromancer's estate an' both at one fell swoop. The two widows + chuckles an' grins after the manner of ladies, to get a new husband so + swift; an' abandonin' his lodge on the Polecat the Lance sets up his game + at Greyhoss, an' onless he's petered, he's thar dealin' it yet." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. Tom and Jerry; Wheelers. + </h2> + <p> + "Obstinacy or love, that a-way, when folks pushes 'em to excess, is shore + bad medicine. Which I'd be aheap loath to count the numbers them two + attribootes harries to the tomb. Why, son, it's them sentiments that kills + off my two wheel mules, Tom an' Jerry." + </p> + <p> + The Old Cattleman appeared to be on the verge of abstract discussion. As a + metaphysician, he was not to be borne with. There was one method of + escape; I interfered to coax the currents of his volubility into other and + what were to me, more interesting channels. + </p> + <p> + "Tell me of the trail; or a story about animals," I urged. "You were + saying recently that perfect systems of oral if not verbal communication + existed among mules, and that you had listened for hours to their gossip. + Give me the history of one of your freighting trips and what befell along + the trail; and don't forget the comment thereon—wise, doubtless, it + was—of your long-eared servants of the rein and trace-chain." + </p> + <p> + "Tell you what chances along the trail? Son, you-all opens a wide-flung + range for my mem'ry to graze over. I might tell you how I'm lost once, + freightin' from Vegas into the Panhandle, an' am two days without water—blazin' + Jooly days so hot you couldn't touch tire, chain, or bolt-head without + fryin' your fingers. An' how at the close of the second day when I hauls + in at Cabra Springs, I lays down by that cold an' blessed fountain an' + drinks till I aches. Which them two days of thirst terrorises me to sech + degrees that for one plumb year tharafter, I never meets up with water + when I don't drink a quart, an' act like I'm layin' in ag'in another + parched spell. + </p> + <p> + "Or I might relate how I stops over one night from Springer on my way to + the Canadian at a Triangle-dot camp called Kingman. This yere is a + one-room stone house, stark an' sullen an' alone on the desolate plains, + an' no scenery worth namin' but a half-grown feeble spring. This Kingman + ain't got no windows; its door is four-inch thick of oak; an' thar's + loopholes for rifles in each side which shows the sports who builds that + edifice in the stormy long-ago is lookin' for more trouble than comfort + an' prepares themse'fs. The two cow-punchers I finds in charge is scared + to a standstill; they allows this Kingman's ha'nted. They tells me how two + parties who once abides thar—father an' son they be—gets + downed by a hold-up whose aim is pillage, an' who comes cavortin' along + an' butchers said fam'ly in their sleep. The cow-punchers declar's they + hears the spooks go scatterin' about the room as late as the night before + I trails in. I ca'ms 'em—not bein' subject to nerve stampedes + myse'f, an' that same midnight when the sperits comes ha'ntin' about + ag'in, I turns outen my blankets an' lays said spectres with the butt of + my mule whip—the same when we strikes a light an' counts 'em up + bein' a couple of kangaroo rats. This yere would front up for a mighty + thrillin' tale if I throws myse'f loose with its reecital an' daubs in the + colour plenty vivid an' free. + </p> + <p> + "Then thar's the time I swings over to the K-bar-8 ranch for corn—bein' + I'm out of said cereal—an' runs up on a cow gent, spurs, gun-belt, + big hat an' the full regalia, hangin' to the limb of a cottonwood, dead as + George the Third, an' not a hundred foot from the ranch door. An' how + inside I finds a half-dozen more cow folks, lookin' grave an' sayin' + nothin'; an' the ranch manager has a bloody bandage about his for'ead, an' + another holdin' up his left arm, half bandage an' half sling, the toot + ensemble, as Colonel Sterett calls it, showin' sech recent war that the + blood's still wet on the cloths an' drops on the floor as we talks. An' + how none of us says a word about the dead gent in the cottonwood or of the + manager who's shot up; an' how that same manager outfits me with ten sacks + of mule-food an' I goes p'intin' out for the Southeast an' forgets all I + sees an' never mentions it ag'in. + </p> + <p> + "Then thar's Sim Booth of the Fryin' Pan outfit, who's one evenin' camped + with me at Antelope Springs; an' who saddles up an' ropes onto the laigs + of a dead Injun where they're stickin' forth—bein' washed free by + the rains—an' pulls an' rolls that copper-coloured departed outen + his sepulchre a lot, an' then starts his pony off at a canter an' sort o' + fritters the remains about the landscape. Sim does this on the argyment + that the obsequies, former, takes place too near the spring. This yere + Sim's pony two months later steps in a dog hole when him an' Sim's goin' + along full swing with some cattle on a stampede, an' the cayouse falls on + Sim an' breaks everything about him incloosive of his neck. The other + cow-punchers allers allow it's because Sim turns out that aborigine over + by Antelope Springs. Now sech a eepisode, properly elab'rated, might feed + your attention an' hold it spellbound some. + </p> + <p> + "Son, if I was to turn myse'f loose on, great an' little, the divers + incidents of the trail, it would consoome days in the relation. I could + tell of cactus flowers, blazin' an' brilliant as a eye of red fire ag'in + the brown dusk of the deserts; or of mile-long fields of Spanish bayonet + in bloom; or of some Mexican's doby shinin' like a rooby in the sunlight a + day's journey ahead, the same one onbroken mass from roof to ground of the + peppers they calls <i>chili</i>, all reddenin' in the hot glare of the + day. + </p> + <p> + "Or, if you has a fancy for stirrin' incident an' lively scenes, thar's a + time when the rains has raised the old Canadian ontil that quicksand ford + at Tascosa—which has done eat a hundred teams if ever it swallows + one!—is torn up complete an' the bottom of the river nothin' save + b'ilin' sand with a shallow yere an' a hole deep enough to drown a house + scooped out jest beyond. An' how since I can't pause a week or two for the + river to run down an' the ford to settle, I goes spraddlin' an' tumblin' + an' swimmin' across on Tom, my nigh wheeler, opens negotiations with the + LIT ranch, an' Bob Roberson, has his riders round-up the pasture, an' + comes chargin' down to the ford with a bunch of one thousand ponies, all + of 'em dancin' an' buckin' an' prancin' like chil'en outen school. + Roberson an' the LIT boys throws the thousand broncos across an' across + the ford for mighty likely it's fifty times. They'd flash 'em through—the + whole band together—on the run; an' then round 'em up on the + opp'site bank, turn 'em an' jam 'em through ag'in. When they ceases, the + bottom of the river is tramped an' beat out as hard an' as flat as a + floor, an' I hooks up an' brings the waggons over like the ford—bottomless + quicksand a hour prior—is one of these yere asphalt streets. + </p> + <p> + "Or I might relate about a cowboy tournament that's held over in the flat + green bottom of Parker's arroya; an' how Jack Coombs throws a rope an' + fastens at one hundred an' four foot, while Waco Simpson rides at the herd + of cattle one hundred foot away, ropes, throws an' ties down a partic'lar + steer, frees his lariat an' is back with the jedges ag'in in forty-eight + seconds. Waco wins the prize, a Mexican saddle—stamp-leather an' + solid gold she is—worth four hundred dollars, by them onpreecedented + alacrities. + </p> + <p> + "Or, I might impart about a Mexican fooneral where the hearse is a blanket + with two poles along the aige, the same as one of these battle litters; of + the awful songs the mournful Mexicans sings about departed; of the candles + they burns an' the dozens of baby white-pine crosses they sets up on + little jim-crow stone-heaps along the trail to the tomb; meanwhiles, + howlin' dirges constant. + </p> + <p> + "Now I thinks of it I might bresh up the recollections of a mornin' when I + rolls over, blankets an' all, onto something that feels as big as a + boot-laig an' plenty squirmy; an' how I shows zeal a-gettin' to my feet, + knowin' I'm reposin' on a rattlesnake who's bunked in ag'in my back all + sociable to warm himse'f. It's worth any gent's while to see how heated + an' indignant that serpent takes it because of me turnin' out so early and + so swift. + </p> + <p> + "Then thar's a mornin' when I finds myse'f not five miles down the wind + from a prairie fire; an' it crackin' an' roarin' in flame-sheets twenty + foot high an' makin' for'ard jumps of fifty foot. What do I do? Go for'ard + down the wind, set fire to the grass myse'f, an' let her burn ahead of me. + In two minutes I'm over on a burned deestrict of my own, an' by the time + the orig'nal flames works down to my fire line, my own speshul fire is + three miles ahead an I myse'f am ramblin' along cool an' saloobrious with + a safe, shore area of burnt prairie to my r'ar. + </p> + <p> + "An' thar's a night on the Serrita la Cruz doorin' a storm, when the + lightnin' melts the tire on the wheel of my trail-waggon, an' me layin' + onder it at the time. An' it don't even wake me up. Thar's the time, too, + when I crosses up at Chico Springs with eighty Injuns who's been buffalo + huntin' over to the South Paloduro, an' has with 'em four hundred odd + ponies loaded with hides an' buffalo beef an' all headed for their + home-camps over back of Taos. The bucks is restin' up a day or two when I + rides in; later me an' a half dozen jumps a band of antelopes jest 'round + a p'int of rocks. Son, you-all would have admired to see them savages + shoot their arrows. I observes one young buck a heap clost. He holds the + bow flat down with his left hand while his arrows in their cow-skin quiver + sticks over his right shoulder. The way he would flash his right hand + back, yank forth a arrow, slam it on his bow, pull it to the head an' cut + it loose, is shore a heap earnest. Them missiles would go sailin' off for + over three hundred yards, an' I sees him get seven started before ever the + first one strikes the ground. The Injuns acquires four antelope by this + archery an' shoots mebby some forty arrows; all of which they carefully + reclaims when the excitement subsides. She's trooly a sperited exhibition + an' I finds it mighty entertainin'. + </p> + <p> + "I throws these hints loose to show what might be allooded to by way of + stories, grave and gay, of sights pecooliar to the trail if only some gent + of experience ups an' devotes himse'f to the relations. As it is, however, + an' recurrin' to Tom an' Jerry—the same bein' as I informs you, my + two wheel mules—I reckons now I might better set forth as to how + they comes to die that time. It's his obstinacy that downs Jerry; while + pore, tender Tom perishes the victim—volunteer at that—of the + love he b'ars his contrary mate. + </p> + <p> + "Them mules, Tom an' Jerry, is obtained by me, orig'nal in Vegas. They're + the wheelers of a eight-mule team; an' I gives Frosty—who's a + gambler an' wins 'em at monte of some locoed sport from Chaparita—twelve + hundred dollars for the outfit. Which the same is cheap an' easy at double + the <i>dinero</i>. + </p> + <p> + "These mules evident has been part an' passel of the estates of some + Mexican, for I finds a cross marked on each harness an' likewise on both + waggons. Mexicans employs this formal'ty to run a bluff on any evil sperit + who may come projectin' round. Your American mule skinner never makes them + tokens. As a roole he's defiant of sperits; an' even when he ain't he + don't see no refooge in a cross. Mexicans, on the other hand, is plenty + strong on said symbol. Every mornin' you beholds a Mexican with a dab of + white on his fore'erd an' on each cheek bone, an' also on his chin where + he crosses himse'f with flour; shore, the custom is yooniversal an' it + takes a quart of flour to fully fortify a full-blown Greaser household + ag'inst the antic'pated perils of the day. + </p> + <p> + "No sooner am I cl'ar of Vegas—I'm camped near the Plaza de la + Concepcion at the time—when I rounds up the eight mules an' looks + 'em over with reference to their characters. This is jest after I acquires + 'em. It's allers well for a gent to know what he's ag'inst; an' you can + put down a stack the disp'sitions of eight mules is a important problem. + </p> + <p> + "The review is plenty satisfactory. The nigh leader is a steady practical + person as a lead mule oughter be, an' I notes by his ca'm jedgmatical eye + that he's goin' to give himse'f the benefit of every doubt, an' ain't out + to go stampedin' off none without knowin' the reason why. His mate at the + other end of the jockey-stick is nervous an' hysterical; she never trys to + solve no riddles of existence herse'f, this Jane mule don't, but relies on + her mate Peter an' plays Peter's system blind. The nigh p'inter is a + deecorous form of mule with no bad habits; while his mate over the chain + is one of these yere hard, se'fish, wary parties an' his little game is to + get as much of everything except work an' trouble as the lay of the kyards + permits. My nigh swing mule is a wit like I tells you the other day. Which + this jocose anamile is the life of the team an' allers lettin' fly some + dry, quaint observation. This mule wag is partic'lar excellent at a bad + ford or a hard crossin', an his gay remarks, full of p'int as a bowie + knife, shorely cheers an' uplifts the sperits of the rest. The off swing + is a heedless creature who regyards his facetious mate as the very parent + of fun, an' he goes about with his y'ear cocked an' his mouth ajar, ready + to laugh them 'hah, hah!' laughs of his'n at every word his pard turns + loose. + </p> + <p> + "Tom an' Jerry is different from the others. Bein' bigger an' havin' + besides the respons'bilities of the hour piled onto them as wheel mules + must, they cultivates a sooperior air an is distant an' reserved in their + attitoodes towards the other six. As to each other their pose needs more + deescription. Tom, the nigh wheeler—the one I rides when drivin'—is + infatyooated with Jerry. I hears a sky-sharp aforetime preach about + Jonathan an' David. Yet I'm yere to assert, son, that them sacred people + ain't on speakin' terms compared to the way that pore old lovin' Tom mule + feels towards Jerry. + </p> + <p> + "This affection of Tom's is partic'lar amazin' when you-all recalls the + fashion in which the sullen Jerry receives it. Doorin' the several years I + spends in their s'ciety I never once detects Jerry in any look or word of + kindness to Tom. Jerry bites him an' kicks him an' cusses him out + constant; he never tol'rates Tom closter than twenty foot onless at times + when he orders Tom to curry him. Shore, the imbecile Tom submits. On sech + o'casions when Jerry issues a summons to go over him, usin' his upper + teeth for a comb an' bresh, Tom is never so happy. Which he digs an' + delves at Jerry's ribs that a-way like it's a honour; after a half hour, + mebby, when Jerry feels refreshed s'fficient, he w'irls on Tom an' + dismisses him with both heels. + </p> + <p> + "'I track up on folks who's jest the same,' says Dan Boggs, one time when + I mentions this onaccountable infatyooation of Tom. 'This Jerry loves that + Tom mule mate of his, only he ain't lettin' on. I knows a lady whose + treatment of her husband is a dooplicate of Jerry's. She metes out the + worst of it to that long-sufferin' shorthorn at every bend in the trail; + it looks like he never wins a good word or a soft look from her once. An' + yet when that party cashes in, whatever does the lady do? Takes a hooker + of whiskey, puts in p'isen enough to down a dozen wolves, an' drinks off + every drop. 'Far'well, vain world, I'm goin' home,' says the lady; 'which + I prefers death to sep'ration, an' I'm out to jine my beloved husband in + the promised land.' I knows, for I attends the fooneral of that family—said + fooneral is a double-header as the lady, bein' prompt, trails out after + her husband before ever he's pitched his first camp—an' later + assists old Chandler in deevisin' a epitaph, the same occurrin' in these + yere familiar words: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "She sort o got the drop on him, + In the dooel of earthly love; + Let's hope he gets an even break + When they meets in heaven above." +</pre> + <p> + "'Thar,' concloods Dan, 'is what I regyards as a parallel experience to + this Tom an' Jerry. The lady plays Jerry's system from soda to hock, an' + yet you-all can see in the lights of that thar sooicide how deep she loves + him.' + </p> + <p> + "'That's all humbug, Dan,' says Enright; 'the lady you relates of isn't + lovin'. She's only locoed that a-way.' + </p> + <p> + "'Whyever if she's locoed, then,' argues Dan, 'don't they up an' hive her + in one of their madhouse camps? She goes chargin' about as free an' + fearless as a cyclone.' + </p> + <p> + "'All the same,' says Texas Thompson, 'her cashin' in don't prove no + lovin' heart. Mebby she does it so's to chase him up an' continyoo + onbroken them hectorin's of her's. I could onfold a fact or two about that + wife of mine who cuts out the divorce from me in Laredo that would lead + you to concloosions sim'lar. But she wasn't your wife; an' I don't aim to + impose my domestic afflictions on this innocent camp, which bein' troo I + mootely stands my hand.' + </p> + <p> + "This Jerry's got one weakness however, I don't never take advantage of + it. He's scared to frenzy if you pulls a gun. I reckons, with all them + crimes of his'n preyin' on his mind, that he allows you're out, to shoot + him up. Jerry is ca'm so long as your gun's in the belt, deemin' it as so + much onmeanin' ornament. But the instant you pulls it like you're goin' to + put it in play, he onbuckles into piercin' screams. I reaches for my + six-shooter one evenin' by virchoo of antelopes, an' that's the time I + discovers this foible of Jerry's. I never gets a shot. At the sight of the + gun Jerry evolves a howl an' the antelopes tharupon hits two or three high + places an' is miles away. Shore, they thinks Jerry is some new breed of + demon. + </p> + <p> + "When I turns to note the cause of Jerry's clamours he's loppin' his + fore-laigs over Tom's back an' sobbin' an' sheddin' tears into his mane. + Tom sympathises with Jerry an' says all he can to teach him that the + avenger ain't on his trail. Nothin' can peacify Jerry, however, except + jammin' that awful six-shooter back into its holster. I goes over Jerry + that evenin' patiently explorin' for bullet marks, but thar ain't none. No + one's ever creased him; an' I figgers final by way of a s'lootion of his + fits that mighty likely Jerry's attended some killin' between hoomans, + inadvertent, an' has the teeth of his apprehensions set on aige. + </p> + <p> + "Jerry is that high an' haughty he won't come up for corn in the mornin' + onless I petitions him partic'lar an' calls him by name. To jest whoop + 'Mules!' he holds don't incloode him. Usual I humours Jerry an' shouts his + title speshul, the others bein' called in a bunch. When Jerry hears his + name he walks into camp, delib'rate an' dignified, an' kicks every mule to + pieces who tries to shove in ahead. + </p> + <p> + "Once, feelin' some malignant myse'f, I tries Jerry's patience out. I + don't call 'Jerry,' merely shouts 'Mules' once or twice an' lets it go at + that. Jerry, when he notices I don't refer to him partic'lar lays his + y'ears back; an' although his r'ar elevation is towards me I can see he's + hotter than a hornet. The faithful Tom abides with Jerry; though he tells + him it's feed time an' that the others with a nosebag on each of 'em is + already at their repasts. Jerry only gets madder an' lays for Tom an' + tries to bite him. After ten minutes, sullen an' sulky, hunger beats Jerry + an' he comes bumpin' into camp like a bar'l down hill an' eases his mind + by wallopin' both hind hoofs into them other blameless mules, peacefully + munchin' their rations. Also, after Jerry's let me put the nosebag onto + him he reeverses his p'sition an' swiftly lets fly at me. But I ain't in + no trance an' Jerry misses. I don't frale him; I saveys it's because he + feels hoomiliated with me not callin' him by name. + </p> + <p> + "As a roole me an' Jerry gets through our dooties harmonious. He can pull + like a lion an' never flinches or flickers at a pinch. It's shore a + vict'ry to witness the heroic way Jerry goes into the collar at a hard + steep hill or some swirlin', rushin' ford. Sech bein' Jerry's work habits + I'm prepared to overlook a heap of moral deeficiencies an' never lays it + up ag'in Jerry that he's morose an' repellant when I flings him any + kindnesses. + </p> + <p> + "But while I don't resent 'em none by voylence, still Jerry has habits + ag'inst which I has to gyard. You-all recalls how long ago I tells you of + Jerry's, bein' a thief. Shore, he can't he'p it; he's a born kleptomaniac. + Leastwise 'kleptomaniac' is what Colonel Sterett calls it when he's + tellin' me of a party who's afflicted sim'lar. + </p> + <p> + "'Otherwise this gent's a heap respectable,' says the Colonel. 'Morally + speakin' thar's plenty who's worse. Of course, seein' he's crowdin' forty + years, he ain't so shamefully innocent neither. He ain't no debyootanty; + still, he ain't no crime-wrung debauchee. I should say he grades midway in + between. But deep down in his system this person's a kleptomaniac, an' at + last his weakness gets its hobbles off an' he turns himse'f loose, an' + begins to jest nacherally take things right an' left. No, he don't get put + away in Huntsville; they sees he's locoed an' he's corraled instead in one + of the asylums where thar's nothin' loose an' little kickin' 'round, an' + tharfore no temptations.' + </p> + <p> + "Takin' the word then from Colonel Sterett, Jerry is a kleptomaniac. I + used former to hobble Jerry but one mornin' I'm astounded to see what + looks like snow all about my camp. Bein' she's in Joone that snow theery + don't go. An' it ain't snow, it's flour; this kleptomaniac Jerry creeps to + the waggons while I sleeps an' gets away, one after the other, with + fifteen fifty-pound sacks of flour. Then he entertains himse'f an' Tom by + p'radin' about with the sacks in his teeth, shakin' an' tossin' his head + an' powderin' my 'Pride of Denver' all over the plains. Which Jerry shore + frosts that scenery plumb lib'ral. + </p> + <p> + "It's the next night an' I don't hobble Jerry; I pegs him out on a lariat. + What do you-all reckon now that miscreant does? Corrupts pore Tom who you + may be certain is sympathisin' 'round, an' makes Tom go to the waggons, + steal the flour an' pack it out to him where he's pegged. The soopine Tom, + who otherwise is the soul of integrity, abstracts six sacks for his mate + an' at daybreak the wretched Jerry's standin' thar, white as milk himse'f, + an' flour a foot deep in a cirkle whereof the radius is his rope Tom's + gazin' on Jerry in a besotted way like he allows he's certainly the + greatest sport on earth. + </p> + <p> + "Which this last is too much an' I ropes up Jerry for punishment. I throws + an' hawgties Jerry, an' he's layin' thar on his side. His eye is obdoorate + an' thar's neither shame nor repentance in his heart. Tom is sort o' + sobbin' onder his breath; Tom would have swapped places with Jerry too + quick an' I sees he has it in his mind to make the offer, only he knows + I'll turn it down." + </p> + <p> + "The other six mules comes up an' loafs about observant an' respectful. + They jestifies my arrangements; besides Jerry is mighty onpop'lar with 'em + by reason of his heels. I can hear Peter the little lead mule sayin' to + Jane, his mate: 'The boss is goin' to lam Jerry a lot with a trace-chain. + Which it's shore comin' to him!' + </p> + <p> + "I w'irls the chain on high an' lays it along Jerry's evil ribs, <i>kerwhillup</i>! + Every other link bites through the hide an' the chain plows a most + excellent an' wholesome furrow. As the chain descends, the sympathetic Tom + jumps an' gives a groan. Tom feels a mighty sight worse than his <i>companero</i>. + At the sixth wallop Tom can't b'ar no more, but with tears an' protests + comes an' stands over Jerry an' puts it up he'll take the rest himse'f. + This evidence of brotherly love stands me off, an' for Tom's sake I + desists an' throws Jerry loose. That old scoundrel—while I sees he's + onforgivin' an' a-harbourin' of hatreds ag'in me—don't forget the + trace-chain an' comports himse'f like a law-abidin' mule for months. He + even quits bitin' an' kickin' Tom, an' that lovin' beast seems like he's + goin' to break his heart over it, 'cause he looks on it as a sign that + Jerry's gettin' cold. + </p> + <p> + "But thar comes a day when I loses both Tom an' Jerry. It's about second + drink time one August mornin' an' me an' my eight mules goes scamperin' + through a little Mexican plaza called Tramperos on our way to the + Canadian. Over by a 'doby stands a old fleabitten gray mare; she's shore + hideous. + </p> + <p> + "Now if mules has one overmasterin' deloosion it's a gray mare; she's the + religion an' the goddess of the mules. This knowledge is common; if + you-all is ever out to create a upheaval in the bosom of a mule the + handiest, quickest lever is a old gray mare. The gov'ment takes advantage + of this aberration of the mules. Thar's trains of pack mules freightin' to + the gov'ment posts in the Rockies. They figgers on three hundred pounds to + the mule an' the freight is packed in panniers. The gov'ment freighters + not bein' equal to the manifold mysteries of a diamond-hitch, don't use no + reg'lar shore-enough pack saddle but takes refooge with their ignorance in + panniers. + </p> + <p> + "Speakin' gen'ral, thar's mebby two hundred mules in one of these gov'ment + pack trains. An' in the lead, followed, waited on an' worshipped by the + mules, is a aged gray mare. She don't pack nothin' but her virchoo an' a + little bell, which last is hung 'round her neck. This old mare, with + nothin' but her character an' that bell to encumber her, goes fa'rly + flyin' light. But go as fast an' as far as she pleases, them long-y'eared + locoed worshippers of her's won't let her outen their raptured sight. The + last one of 'em, panniers, freight an' all, would go surgin' to the + topmost pinnacle of the Rockies if she leads the way. + </p> + <p> + "An' at that this gray mare don't like mules none; she abhors their + company an' kicks an' abooses 'em to a standstill whenever they draws + near. But the fool mules don't care; it's ecstacy to simply know she's + livin' an' that mule's cup of joy is runnin' over who finds himse'f + permitted to crop grass within forty foot of his old, gray bell-bedecked + idol. + </p> + <p> + "We travels all day, followin' glimpsin' that flea-bitten cayouse at + Tramperos. But the mules can't think or talk of nothin' else. It arouses + their religious enthoosiasm to highest pitch; even the cynic Jerry gets + half-way keyed up over it. I looks for trouble that night; an' partic'lar + I pegs out Jerry plenty deep and strong. The rest is hobbled, all except + Tom. Gray mare or not, I'll gamble the outfit Tom wouldn't abandon Jerry, + let the indoocement be ever so alloorin'. + </p> + <p> + "Every well-organised mule team that a-way allers carries along a bronco. + This little steed, saddled an' bridled, trots throughout the day by the + side of the off-wheeler, his bridle-rein caught over the wheeler's hame. + The bronco is used to round up the mules in event they strays or declines + in the mornin' to come when called. Sech bein' the idee, the cayous is + allers kept strictly in camp. + </p> + <p> + "'James' is my bronco's name; an' the evenin', followin' the vision of + that Tramperos gray mare I makes onusual shore 'that James stays with me. + Not that gray mares impresses James—him bein' a boss an' bosses + havin' religious convictions different from mules—or is doo to prove + temptations to him; but he might conceal other plans an' get strayed + prosecootin' of 'em to a finish. I ties James to the trail-waggon, an' + followin' bacon, biscuits, airtights an' sech, the same bein' my froogal + fare when on the trail, I rolls in onder the lead-waggon 'an' gives myse'f + up to sleep. + </p> + <p> + "Exactly as I surmises, when I turns out at sun-up thar's never a mule in + sight. Every one of them idolaters goes poundin' back, as fast as ever he + can with hobbles on, to confess his sins an' say his pray'rs at the shrine + of that old gray mare. Even Jerry, whose cynicism should have saved him, + pulls his picket-pin with the rest an', takin' Tom along, goes curvin' + off. It ain't more than ten minutes, you can gamble! when James an' me is + on their trails. + </p> + <p> + "One by one, I overtakes the team strung all along between my camp an' + Tramperos. Peter, the little lead mule, bein' plumb agile an' a sharp on + hobbles, gets cl'ar thar; an' I finds him devourin' the goddess gray mare + with heart an' soul an' eyes, an' singin' to himse'f the while in low, + satisfied tones. + </p> + <p> + "As one after the other I passes the pilgrim mules I turns an' lifts about + a squar' inch of hide off each with the blacksnake whip I'm carryin', by + way of p'intin' out their heresies an arousin' in 'em a eagerness to get + back to their waggons an' a' upright, pure career. They takes the + chastisement humble an' dootiful, an' relinquishes the thought of reachin' + the goddess gray mare. + </p> + <p> + "When I overtakes old Jerry I pours the leather into him speshul, an' the + way him an' his pard Tom goes scatterin' for camp refreshes me a heap. An' + yet after I rescoos Peter from the demoralisin' inflooences of the gray + mare, an' begins to pick up the other members of the team on the journey + back, I'm some deepressed when I don't see Tom or Jerry. Nor is either of + them mules by the waggons when I arrives. + </p> + <p> + "It's onadulterated cussedness! Jerry, with no hobbles an' merely draggin' + a rope, can lope about free an' permiscus. Tom, with nothin' to hamper him + but his love for Jerry, is even more lightsome an' loose. That Jerry mule, + hatin' me an' allowin' to make me all the grief he can, sneakingly leaves + the trail some'ers after I turns him an' touches him up with the lash. An' + now Tom an' Jerry is shorely hid out an' lost a whole lot. It's nothin' + but Jerry's notion of revenge on me. + </p> + <p> + "I camps two days where I'm at, an rounds up the region for the trooants. + I goes over it like a fine-tooth comb an' rides James to a show-down. That + bronco never is so long onder the saddle since he's foaled; I don't reckon + he knows before thar's so much hard work in the world as falls to him when + we goes ransackin' in quest of Tom an' Jerry. + </p> + <p> + "It's no use; the ground is hard an' dry an' I can't even see their + hoof-marks. The country's so rollin', too, it's no trouble for 'em to + hide. At last I quits an' throws my hand in the diskyard. Tom an' Jerry is + shore departed an' I'm deeficient my two best mules. I hooks up the + others, an' seein' it's down hill an' a easy trail I makes Tascosa an' + refits. + </p> + <p> + "I never crosses up on Tom an' Jerry in this yere life no more, but one + day I learns their fate. It's a month later on my next trip back, an' I'm + camped about a half day's drive of that same locoed plaza of Tramperos. As + I'm settin' in camp with the sun still plenty high—I'm compilin' + flapjacks at the time—I sees eight or ten ravens wheelin' an' + cirklin' over beyond a swell about three miles to the left. + </p> + <p> + "'Tom an' Jerry for a bloo stack!' I says to myse'f; an' with that I + cinches the saddle onto James precip'tate. + </p> + <p> + "Shore enough; I'm on the scene of the tragedy. Half way down a rocky + slope where thar ain't grass enough to cover the brown nakedness of the + ground lies the bones of Tom an' Jerry. This latter, who's that obstinate + an' resentful he won't go back to camp when I wallops him on that gray + mare mornin', allows he'll secrete himse'f an' Tom off to one side an' + worrit me up. While he's manooverin' about he gets the half-inch rope he's + draggin' tangled good an' fast in a mesquite bush. It shorely holds him; + that bush is old Jerry's last picket—-his last camp. Which he'd a + mighty sight better played his hand out with me, even if I does ring in a + trace-chain on him at needed intervals. Jerry jest nacherally starves to + death for grass an' water. An' what's doubly hard the lovin' Tom, troo to + the last, starves with him. Thar's water within two miles; but Tom + declines it, stays an' starves with Jerry, an' the ravens an' the coyotes + picks their frames." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. The Influence of Faro Nell. + </h2> + <p> + "Thar's no doubt about it," observed the Old Cattleman, apropos of the + fairer, better sex—for woman was the gentle subject of our morning's + talk; "thar's no doubt about it, females is a refinin' an' ennoblin' + inflooence; you-all can hazard your chips on that an' pile 'em higher than + Cook's Peak! An' when Faro Nell prefers them requests, she's ondoubted + moved of feelin's of mercy. They shore does her credit, said motives does, + an' if she had asked Cherokee or Jack Moore, or even Texas Thompson, + things would have come off as effective an' a mighty sight more discreet. + But since he's standin' thar handy, Nell ups an' recroots Dan Boggs on the + side of hoomanity, an' tharupon Dan goes trackin' in without doo + reflection, an' sets the Mexicans examples which, to give 'em a best + deescription, is shore some bad. It ain't Nell's fault, but Dan is a gent + of sech onusual impulses that you-all don't know wherever Dan will land + none, once you goes pokin' up his ha'r-hung sensibil'ties with su'gestions + that is novel to his game. Still, Nell can't he'p it; an' in view of what + we knows to be the female record since ever the world begins, I re-asserts + onhesitatin' that the effects of woman is good. She subdooes the reckless, + subjoogates the rebellious, sobers the friv'lous, burns the ground from + onder the indolent moccasins of that male she's roped up in holy wedlock's + bonds, an' p'ints the way to a higher, happier life. That's whatever! an' + this dramy of existence, as I once hears Colonel Sterett say, would be a + frost an' a failure an' bog plumb down at that, if you was to cut out the + leadin' lady roles an' ring up the curtain with nothin' but bucks in the + cast.' + </p> + <p> + "Narrow an' contracted as you may deem said camp to be, Wolfville itse'f + offers plenty proof on this head. Thar's Dave Tutt: Whatever is Dave, I'd + like for to inquire, prior to Tucson Jennie runnin' her wifely brand on to + him an' redoocin' him to domesticity? No, thar's nothin' so evil about + Dave neither, an' yet he has his little ways. For one thing, Dave's about + as extemporaneous a prop'sition as ever sets in a saddle, an' thar's times + when you give Dave licker an' convince him it's a o'casion for + joobilation, an' you-all won't have to leave no 'call' with the clerk to + insure yourse'f of bein' out early in the mornin.' Son, Dave would keep + that camp settin' up all night. + </p> + <p> + "But once Dave comes onder the mitigatin' spells of Tucson Jennie, things + is changed. Tucson Jennie knocks Dave's horns off doorin' the first two + weeks; he gets staid an' circumspect an' tharby plays better poker an' + grows more urbane. + </p> + <p> + "Likewise does Benson Annie work mir'cles sim'lar in the conduct of that + maverick French which Enright an' the camp, to allay the burnin' + excitement that's rendin' the outfit on account of the Laundry War, herds + into her lovin' arms. Tenderfoot as he is, when we-all ups an' marries him + off that time, this French already shows symptoms of becomin' one of the + most abandoned sports in Arizona. Benson Annie seizes him, purifies him, + an' makes him white as snow. + </p> + <p> + "An' thar's Missis Rucker;—as troo a lady as ever bakes a biscuit! + Even with the burdens of the O.K. Restauraw upon her she still finds + energy to improve old Rucker to that extent he ups an' rides off towards + the hills one mornin' an' never does come back no more. + </p> + <p> + "'Doc,' he says to Doc Peets, while he's fillin' a canteen in the Red + Light prior to his start; 'I won't tell you what I'm aimin' to accomplish, + because the Stranglers might regyard it as their dooty to round me up. But + thar's something comin' to the public, Doc; so I yereby leaves word that + next week, or next month, or mebby later, if doubts is expressed of my + fate, I'm still flutterin' about the scenery some'ers an' am a long ways + short of dead. An' as I fades from sight, Doc, I'll take a chance an' say + that the clause in the Constitootion which allows that all gents is free + an' equal wasn't meant to incloode no married man.' An' with these croode + bluffs Rucker chases forth for the Floridas. + </p> + <p> + "No, the camp don't do nothin'; the word gets passed 'round that old + Rucker's gone prospectin' an' that he will recur in our midst whenever + thar's a reg'lar roll-call. As for Missis Rucker, personal, from all we + can jedge by lookin' on—for thar's shore none of us who's that + locoed we ups an' asks—I don't reckon now she ever notices that + Rucker's escaped. + </p> + <p> + "Yere's how it is the time when Faro Nell, her heart bleedin' for the + sufferin's of dumb an' he'pless brutes, employs Dan Boggs in errants of + mercy an' Dan's efforts to do good gets ill-advised. Not that Dan is + easily brought so he regyards his play as erroneous; Enright has to + rebooke Dan outright in set terms an' assoome airs of severity before ever + Dan allows he entertains a doubt. + </p> + <p> + "'Suppose I does retire that Greaser's hand from cirk'lation?' says Dan, + sort o' dispootatious with Enright an' Doc Peets, who's both engaged in + p'intin' out Dan's faults. 'Mexicans ain't got no more need for hands than + squinch owls has for hymn books. They won't work; they never uses them + members except for dealin' monte or clawin' a guitar. I regyards a + Mexican's hands that a-way, when considered as feachers in his makeup, as + sooperfluous.' + </p> + <p> + "'Dan, you shore is the most perverse sport!' says Enright, makin' a + gesture of impatience an' at the same time refillin' his glass in hopes of + a ca'mer frame. 'This ain't so much a question of hands as it's a question + of taste. Nell's requests is right, an' you're bound to go about the + rescoo of said chicken as the victim of crooelties. Where you-all falls + down is on a system. The method you invokes is impertinent. Don't you say + so, Doc?' + </p> + <p> + "'Which I shore does,' says Peets. 'Dan's conduct is absolootely oncouth.' + </p> + <p> + "Dan lays the basis for these strictures in the follow-in' fashion: It's a + <i>fieste</i> with the Mexicans—one of the noomerous saint's days + they gives way to when every Greaser onbuckles an' devotes himse'f to + merriments—an' over in Chihuahua, as the Mexican part of the camp is + called, the sunburnt portion of Wolfville's pop'lation broadens into quite + a time. Thar's hoss races an' monte an' mescal an' pulque, together with + roode music sech as may be wrung from primitive instruments like the + guitar, the fiddle, an' tin cans half filled with stones. + </p> + <p> + "Faro Nell, who is only a child as you-all might say, an' ready to be + engaged an' entertained with childish things, goes trippin' over to size + up the gala scene. + </p> + <p> + "Thar's a passel of young Mexicans who's Ridin' for the Chicken's Head. + This yere is a sport something like a Gander Pullin', same as we-all + engages in on Thanksgivin' days an' Christmas, back when I'm a boy in + Tennessee. You saveys a Gander Pullin'? Son, you don't mean sech + ignorance! Thar must have been mighty little sunshine in the life of a + yooth in the morose regions where you was raised for you-all never to + disport yourse'f, even as a spectator, at a Gander Pullin'! It wouldn't + surprise me none after that if you ups an' informs me you never shakes a + fetlock in that dance called money-musk. + </p> + <p> + "To the end that you be eddicated,—for it's better late than never,"—I'll + pause concernin' Boggs an' the Mexicans long enough to eloocidate of + Gander Pullin's. + </p> + <p> + "As I su'gests, we onbends in this pastime at sech epocks as Christmas an' + Thanksgivin.' I don't myse'f take actooal part in any Gander Pullin's. Not + that I'm too delicate, but I ain't got no hoss. Bein' a pore yooth, I + spends the mornin' of my c'reer on foot, an' as a hoss is a necessary + ingreedient to a Gander Pullin', I never does stand in personal on the + festival, but is redooced to become a envy-bitten looker-on. + </p> + <p> + "Gander Pullin's is conducted near a tavern or a still house so's the + assembled gents won't want the inspiration befittin' both the season an' + the scene, an' is commonly held onder the auspices of the proprietor + tharof. Thar's a track marked out in a cirkle like a little racecourse for + the hosses to gallop on. This course runs between two poles pinned into + the ground; or mebby it's two trees. Thar's a rope stretched from pole to + pole,—taut an' stiff she's stretched; an' the gander who's the + object of the meetin', with his neck an' head greased a heap lavish, is + hung from the rope by his two hind laigs. As the gander hangs thar, what + Colonel Sterett would style 'the cynosure of every eye,' you'll notice + that a gent by standin' high in the stirrups can get a grip of the + gander's head. + </p> + <p> + "As many as determines to distinguish themse'fs in the amoosement throws a + two-bit piece into a hat. Most likely thar'll be forty partic'pants. They + then lines up, Injun file, an' goes caperin' round the course, each in his + place in the joyous procession. As a gent goes onder the rope he grabs for + the gander's head; an' that party who's expert enough to bring it away in + his hand, wins the hat full of two-bit pieces yeretofore deescribed. + </p> + <p> + "Which, of course, no gent succeeds the first dash outen the box, as a + gander's head is on some good and strong; an' many a saddle gets emptied + by virchoo of the back'ard yanks a party gets. But it's on with the dance! + They keeps whoopin' an' shoutin' an' ridin' the cirkle an' grabbin' at the + gander, each in his cheerful turn, ontil some strong or lucky party sweeps + away the prize, assoomes title to the two-bit pieces, goes struttin' to + the licker room an' buys nosepaint for the pop'lace tharwith. + </p> + <p> + "Shore, doorin' a contest a gent's got to keep ridin'; he's not allowed to + pause an' dally with the gander an' delay the game. To see to this a brace + of brawny sharps is stationed by each pole with clubs in their willin' + hands to reemonstrate with any hoss or gent who slows down or stops as he + goes onder the gander. + </p> + <p> + "Thar you have it, son; a brief but lively picture of a Gander Pullin' as + pulled former in blithe old Tennessee. An' you'll allow, if you sets down + to a ca'm, onja'ndiced study of the sport, that a half hour of reasonable + thrill might be expected to flow from it. Gander Pullin's is popular a lot + when I'm a yearlin'; I knows that for shore; though in a age which grows + effete it's mighty likely if we-all goes back thar now, we'd find it + fallen into disuse as a reelaxation. + </p> + <p> + "In Ridin' for the Chicken's Head, a Mexican don't hang up his prey none + same as we-all does at Gander Pullin's. He buries it in the ground to sech + degrees that nothin' but the head an' neck protroodes. An' as the Mexicans + goes flashin' by on their broncos, each in turn swings down an' makes a + reach for the chicken's head. The experiment calls for a shore-enough + rider; as when a party is over on one side that a-way, an' nothin' to hold + by but a left hand on the saddlehorn an' a left spur caught in the cantle, + any little old pull will fetch him out on his head. + </p> + <p> + "This day when Faro Nell comes bulgin' up to amoose her young an' idle + cur'osity with the gayeties of Chihuahua, the Ridin' for the Chicken's + Head is about to commence. Which they're jest plantin' the chicken. At + first Nell don't savey, as she ain't posted deep on Mexican pastimes. But + Nell is plenty quick mental; as, actin' look-out for Cherokee's bank, + she's bound to be. Wherefore Nell don't study the preeliminaries long + before she gets onto the roodiments of some idee concernin' the jocund + plans of the Greasers. + </p> + <p> + "At last the chicken is buried, an' thar's nothin' in sight but its + anxious head. Except that it can turn an' twist its neck some, it's fixed + in the ground as firm an' solid as the stumps of a mesquite bush. + </p> + <p> + "The first Greaser—he's a gaudy party with more colours than you + could count in any rainbow—is organisin' for a rush. He's pickin' up + his reins an' pushin' his moccasins deep into his tappedaries, when, as he + gives his cayouse the spur, the beauty of Ridin' for the Chicken's Head + bursts full on Faro Nell. Comin' on her onexpected, Nell don't see no + pleasure in it. It don't present the attractions which so alloores the + heart of a Greaser. Without pausin' to think, an' feelin' shocked over the + fate that's ridin' down on the buried chicken, Nell grips her little paws + convulsive an' snaps her teeth. It's then her eye catches Dan Boggs, who's + contemplatin' details an' awaitin' the finish with vivid interest. + </p> + <p> + "'Oh, Dan!' says Nell, grabbin' Dan's arm, 'I don't want that chicken hurt + none! Can't you-all make 'em stop?' + </p> + <p> + "'Shore!' says Dan, prompt to Nell's cry. 'I preevails on 'em to cease + easy.' + </p> + <p> + "As Dan says this, that radiant cavalier is sweepin' upon the pore chicken + like the breath of destiny. He's bendin' from the saddle to make a swoop + as Dan speaks. Thar ain't a moment to lose an' Dan's hand goes to his gun. + </p> + <p> + "'Watch me stop him,' says Dan; an' as he does, his bullet makes rags of + the Mexican's hand not a inch from the chicken's head. + </p> + <p> + "For what time you-all might need to slop out a drink, the onlookin' + Mexicans stands still. Then the stoopefyin' impressions made by Dan's + pistol practice wears off an' a howl goes up like a hundred wolves. At + this Dan gets his number-two gun to b'ar, an' with one in each hand, + confronts the tan-coloured multitoode. + </p> + <p> + "'That's shore a nice shot, Nell!' says Dan over his shoulder, ropin' for + the congratoolations he thinks is comin.' + </p> + <p> + "But Nell don't hear him; she's one hundred yards away an' streakin' it + for the Red Light like a shootin' star. She tumbles in on us with the + brake off like a stage-coach downhill. + </p> + <p> + "'Dan's treed Chihuahua!' gasps Nell, as she heads straight for Cherokee; + 'you-all better rustle over thar plumb soon!' + </p> + <p> + "Cherokee jumps an' grabs his hardware where they're layin' onder the + table. Bein' daylight an' no game goin', an' the day some warm besides, he + ain't been wearin' 'em, bein' as you-all might say in negligee. Cherokee + buckles on his belts in a second an' starts; the rest of us, however, + since we're more ackerately garbed, don't lose no time an' is already half + way to Dan. + </p> + <p> + "It ain't a two-minute run an' we arrives in time. Thar's no more blood, + though thar might have been, for we finds Dan frontin' up to full two + hundred Greasers, their numbers increasin' and excitement runnin' a heap + high. We cuts in between Dan an' Mexican public opinion and extricates + that over-vol'tile sport. + </p> + <p> + "But Dan won't return ontil he exhoomes the chicken, which is still + bobbin' an' twistin' its onharmed head where the Mexican buries it. Dan + digs it up an' takes it by the laigs; Enright meanwhile cussin' him out, + fervent an' nervous, for he fears some locoed Greaser will cut loose every + moment an' mebby crease a gent, an' so leave it incumbent on the rest of + us to desolate Chihuahua. + </p> + <p> + "'It's for Nell,' expostulates Dan, replyin' to Enright's criticisms. 'I + knows she wants it by the way she grabs my coat that time. Moreover, from + the tones she speaks in, I reckons she wants it alive. Also, I don't + discern no excoose for this toomult neither; which you-all is shore the + most peevish bunch, Enright, an' that's whatever!' + </p> + <p> + "'Peevish or no,' retorts Enright, 'as a jedge of warjigs I figgers that + we gets here jest in time. Thar you be, up ag'inst the entire tribe, an' + each one with a gun. It's one of the deefects of a Colt's six-shooter that + it hits as hard an' shoots as troo for a Injun or a Greaser as it does for + folks. Talk about us bein' peevish! what do you-all reckon would have been + results if we hadn't cut in on the <i>baile</i> at the time we does?' + </p> + <p> + "'Nothin',' says Dan, with tones of soopreme vanity, at the same time + dustin' the dirt off Nell's chicken, 'nothing except I'd hung crape on + half the dobies in Chihuahua.' + </p> + <p> + "About two hours after, when things ag'in simmers to the usual, an' Nell + is makin' her chicken a coop out to the r'ar of the Red Light, Enright + gives a half laugh. + </p> + <p> + "'Dan,' says Enright, 'when I reflects on the hole we drug you out of, an' + the way you-all gets in, you reminds me of that Thomas Benton dog I owns + when I'm a yoothful child on the Cumberland. Which Thomas Benton that + a-way is a mighty industrious dog an' would turn over a quarter-section of + land any afternoon diggin' out a ground-hawg. But thar's this drawback to + Thomas Benton which impairs his market valyoo. Some folks used to regyard + it as a foible; but it's worse, it's a deefect. As I remarks, this Thomas + Benton dog would throw his whole soul into the work, an' dig for a + groundhawg like he ain't got another dollar. But thar's this pecooliarity: + After that Thomas Benton dog has done dug out the ground-hawg for a couple + of hours, you-all is forced to get a spade an' dig out that Thomas Benton + dog. He's dead now these yere forty years, but if he's livin' I'd shore + change his name an' rebrand him "Dan'l Boggs."'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. The Ghost of the Bar-B-8. + </h2> + <p> + "Spectres? Never! I refooses 'em my beliefs utter"; and with these + emphatic words the Old Cattleman tasted his liquor thoughtfully on his + tongue. The experiment was not satisfactory; and he despatched his dark + retainer Tom for lemons and sugar. "An' you-all might better tote along + some hot water, too;" he commanded. "This nosepaint feels raw an' + over-fervid; a leetle dilootion won't injure it none." + </p> + <p> + "But about ghosts?" I persisted. + </p> + <p> + "Ghosts?" he retorted. "I never does hear of but one; that's a apparition + which enlists the attentions of Peets and Old Man Enright a lot. It's a + spectre that takes to ha'ntin' about one of Enright's Bar-B-8 sign-camps, + an' scarin' up the cattle an' drivin' 'em over a precipice, an' all to + Enright's disaster an' loss. Nacherally, Enright don't like this spectral + play; an' him an' Peets lays for the wraith with rifles, busts its knee + some, an' Peets ampytates its laig. Then they throws it loose; allowin' + that now it's only got one lai'g, the visitations will mighty likely + cease. Moreover Enright regyards ampytation that a-way, as punishment + enough. Which I should shore allow the same myse'f! + </p> + <p> + "It ain't much of a tale. It turns out like all sperit stories; when you + approaches plumb close an' jumps sideways at 'em an' seizes 'em by the + antlers, the soopernacheral elements sort o' bogs down. + </p> + <p> + "It's over mebby fifty miles to the southeast of Wolfville, some'ers in + the fringes of the Tres Hermanas that thar's a sign-camp of Enright's + brand. Thar's a couple of Enright's riders holdin' down this corner of the + Bar-B-8 game, an' one evenin' both of 'em comes squanderin' in,—ponies + a-foam an' faces pale as milk,—an' puts it up they don't return to + that camp no more. + </p> + <p> + "'Because she's ha'nted,' says one; 'Jim an' me both encounters this yere + banshee an' it's got fire eyes. Also, itse'f and pony is constructed of + bloo flames. You can gamble! I don't want none of it in mine; an' that's + whatever!' + </p> + <p> + "Any gent can see that these yooths is mighty scared. Enright elicits + their yarn only after pourin' about a quart of nosepaint into 'em. + </p> + <p> + "It looks like on two several o'casions that a handful of cattle gets run + over a steep bluff from the <i>mesa</i> above. The fall is some sixty feet + in the cl'ar, an' when them devoted cattle strikes the bottom it's plenty + easy to guess they're sech no longer, an' thar's nothin' left of 'em but + beef. These beef drives happens each time in the night; an' the cattle + must have been stampeded complete to make the trip. Cattle, that a-way, + ain't goin' to go chargin' over a high bluff none onless their reason is + onhinged. No, the coyotes an' the mountain lions don't do it; they never + chases cattle, holdin' 'em in fear an' tremblin.' These mountain lions + prounces down on colts like a mink on a settin' hen, but never calves or + cattle. + </p> + <p> + "It's after the second beef killin' when the two riders allows they'll do + some night herdin' themse'fs an' see if they solves these pheenomenons + that's cuttin' into the Bar-B-8. + </p> + <p> + "'An' it's mebby second drink time after midnight,' gasps the cow-puncher + who's relatin' the adventures, 'an' me an' Jim is experimentin' along the + aige of the <i>mesa</i>, when of a suddent thar comes two steers, heads + down, tails up, locoed absoloote they be; an' flashin' about in the r'ar + of 'em rides this flamin' cow-sperit on its flamin' cayouse. Shore! he + heads 'em over the cliff; I hears 'em hit the bottom of the canyon jest as + I falls off my bronco in a fit. As soon as ever I comes to an' can + scramble into that Texas saddle ag'in, me an' Jim hits the high places in + the scenery, in a fervid way, an' yere we-all be! An' you hear me, gents, + I don't go back to that Bar-B-8 camp no more. I ain't ridin' herd on + apparitions; an' whenever ghosts takes to romancin' about in the cow + business, that lets me out.' + </p> + <p> + "'I reckons,' says Enright, wrinklin' up his brows, 'I'll take a look into + this racket myse'f.' + </p> + <p> + "'An' if you-all don't mind none, Enright,' says Peets, 'I'll get my chips + in with yours. Thar's been no one shot for a month in either Red Dog or + Wolfville an' I'm reedic'lous free of patients. An' if the boys'll promise + to hold themse'fs an' their guns in abeyance for a week or so, an' not go + framin' up excooses for my presence abrupt, I figgers that a few days + idlin' about the ranges, an' mebby a riot or two roundin' up this + cow-demon, will expand me an' do me good.' + </p> + <p> + "'You're lookin' for trouble, Doc,' says Colonel Sterett, kind o' laughin' + at Peets. 'You reminds me of a onhappy sport I encounters long ago in + Looeyville.' + </p> + <p> + "'An' wherein does this Bloo Grass party resemble me?' asks Peets. + </p> + <p> + "'It's one evenin',' says Colonel Sterett, 'an' a passel of us is settin' + about in the Gait House bar, toyin' with our beverages. Thar's a smooth, + good-lookin' stranger who's camped at a table near. Final, he yawns like + he's shore weary of life an' looks at us sharp an' cur'ous. Then he speaks + up gen'ral as though he's addressin' the air. "This is a mighty dull + town!" he says. "Which I've been yere a fortnight an' I ain't had no fight + as yet." An' he continyoos to look us over plenty mournful. + </p> + <p> + "'"You-all needn't gaze on us that a-way," says a gent named Granger; "you + can set down a stack on it, you ain't goin' to pull on no war with none of + us." + </p> + <p> + "'"Shore, no!" says the onhappy stranger. Then he goes on apol'getic; + "Gents, I'm onfort'nately constitootcd. Onless I has trouble at reasonable + intervals it preys on me. I've been yere in your town two weeks an' so far + ain't seen the sign. Gents, it's beginnin' to tell; an' if any of you-all + could direct me where I might get action it would be kindly took." + </p> + <p> + "'"If you're honin' for a muss," says Granger, "all you has to do is go a + couple of blocks to the east, an' then five to the no'th, an' thar on the + corner you'll note a mighty prosperous s'loon. You caper in by the side + door; it says FAMILY ENTRANCE over this yere portal. Sa'nter up to the + bar, call for licker, drink it; an' then you remark to the barkeep, + casooal like, that you're thar to maintain that any outcast who'll sell + sech whiskey ain't fit to drink with a nigger or eat with a dog. That's + all; that barkeep'll relieve you of the load that's burdenin' your nerves + in about thirty seconds. You'll be the happiest sport in Looeyville when + he gets through." + </p> + <p> + "'"But can't you come an' p'int out the place," coaxes the onhappy + stranger of Granger. He's all wropped up in what Granger tells him. "I + don't know my way about good, an' from your deescriptions I shorely + wouldn't miss visitin' that resort for gold an' precious stones. Come an' + show me, pard; I'll take you thar in a kerriage." + </p> + <p> + "'At that Granger consents to guide the onhappy stranger. They drives over + an' Granger stops the outfit, mebby she's fifty yards from the door. He + p'ints it out to the onhappy stranger sport. + </p> + <p> + "'Come with me," says the onhappy stranger, as he gets outen the kerriage. + "Come on; you-all don't have to fight none. I jest wants you to watch me. + Which I'm the dandiest warrior for the whole length of the Ohio!" + </p> + <p> + "'But Granger is firm that he won't; he's not inquisitive, he says, an' + will stay planted right thar on the r'ar seat an' await deevelopments. + With that, the onhappy stranger sport goes sorrowfully for'ard alone, an' + gets into the gin-mill by the said FAMILY ENTRANCE. Granger' sets thar + with his head out an' y'ears cocked lookin' an' listenin'. + </p> + <p> + "'Everything's plenty quiet for a minute. Then slam! bang! bing! crash! + the most flagrant hubbub breaks forth! It sounds like that store's comin' + down. The racket rages an' grows worse. Thar's a smashin' of glass. The + lights goes out, while customers comes boundin' an' skippin' forth from + the FAMILY ENTRANCE like frightened fawns. At last the uproars dies down + ontil they subsides complete. + </p> + <p> + "'Granger is beginnin' to upbraid himse'f for not gettin the onhappy + stranger's address, so's he could ship home the remainder. In the midst of + Granger's se'f-accoosations, the lights in the gin-mill begins to burn + ag'in, one by one. After awhile, she's reilloominated an' ablaze with + old-time glory. It's then the FAMILY ENTRANCE opens an' the onhappy + stranger sport emerges onto the sidewalk. He's in his shirtsleeves, an' a + satisfied smile wreathes his face. He shore looks plumb content! + </p> + <p> + "'"Get out of the kerriage an' come in, pard," he shouts to Granger. "Come + on in a whole lot! I'd journey down thar an' get you, but I can't leave; + I'm tendin' bar!"' + </p> + <p> + "'You're shore right, Colonel,' says Peets, when Colonel Sterett ends the + anecdote, 'the feelin' of that onhappy stranger sport is parallel to mine. + Ghosts is new to me; an' I'm goin' pirootin' off with Enright on this + demon hunt an' see if I can't fetch up in the midst of a trifle of + nerve-coolin' excitement.' + </p> + <p> + "The ghost tales of the stampeded cow-punchers excites Dan Boggs a heap. + After Enright an' Peets has organised an' gone p'inting out for the + ha'nted Bar-B-8 sign-camp to investigate the spook, Dan can't talk of + nothin' else. + </p> + <p> + "'Them's mighty dead game gents, Enright an' Doc Peets is!' says Dan. 'I + wouldn't go searchin' for no sperits more'n I'd write letters to + rattlesnakes! I draws the line at intimacies with fiends.' + </p> + <p> + "'But mebby this yere is a angel,' says Faro Nell, from her stool + alongside of Cherokee Hall. + </p> + <p> + "'Not criticisin' you none, Nell,' says Dan, 'Cherokee himse'f will tell + you sech surmises is reedic'lous. No angel is goin' to visit Arizona for + obvious reasons. An' ag'in, no angel's doo to go skally-hootin' about + after steers an' stampeedin' 'em over brinks. It's ag'in reason; you bet! + That blazin' wraith, that a-way, is a shore-enough demon! An' as for me, + personal, I wouldn't cut his trail for a bunch of ponies! + </p> + <p> + "'Be you-all scared of ghosts, Dan?' asks Faro Nell. + </p> + <p> + "'Be I scared of ghosts?' says Dan. 'Which I wish, I could see a ghost an' + show you! I don't want to brag none, Nellie, but I'll gamble four for one, + an' go as far as you likes, that if you was to up an' show me a ghost + right now, I wouldn't stop runnin' for a month. But what appals me + partic'lar,' goes on Dan, 'about Peets an' Enright, is they takes their + guns. Now a ghost waxes onusual indignant if you takes to shootin' him up + with guns. No, it don't hurt him; but he regyards sech demonstrations as + insults. It's like my old pap says that time about the Yankees. My old pap + is a colonel with Gen'ral Price, an' on this evenin' is engaged in leadin' + one of the most intrepid retreats of the war. As he's prancin' along at + the head of his men where a great commander belongs, he's shore + scandalised by hearin' his r'ar gyard firin' on the Yanks. So he rides + back, my old pap does, an' he says: "Yere you-all eediots! Whatever do you + mean by shootin' at them Yankees? Don't you know it only makes 'em + madder?" An' that,' concloods Dan, 'is how I feels about spectres. I + wouldn't go lammin' loose at 'em with no guns; it only makes 'em madder.' + </p> + <p> + "It's the next day, an' Peets an' Enright is organised in the ha'nted + sign-camp of the Bar-B-8. Also, they've been lookin' round. By ridin' + along onder the face of the precipice, they comes, one after t'other, on + what little is left of the dead steers. What strikes 'em as a heap + pecooliar is that thar's no bones or horns. Two or three of the hoofs is + kickin' about, an' Enright picks up one the coyotes overlooks. It shows + it's been cut off at the fetlock j'int by a knife. + </p> + <p> + "'This spectre,' says Enright, passin' the hoof to Peets, 'packs a bowie; + an' he likewise butchers his prey. Also, ondoubted, he freights the meat + off some'ers to his camp, which is why we don't notice no big bones layin' + 'round loose.' Then Enright scans the grass mighty scroopulous; an' shore + enough! thar's plenty of pony tracks printed into the soil. 'That don't + look so soopernacheral neither,' says Enright, p'intin' to the + hoof-prints. + </p> + <p> + "'Them's shorely made by a flesh an' blood pony,' says Peets. 'An' from + their goin' some deep into the ground, I dedooces that said cayouse is + loaded down with what weight of beef an' man it can stagger onder.' + </p> + <p> + "That evenin' over their grub Enright an' Peets discusses the business. + Thar's a jimcrow Mexican plaza not three miles off in the hills. Both of + 'em is aware of this hamlet, an' Peets, partic'lar, is well acquainted + with a old Mexican sharp who lives thar—he's a kind o' schoolmaster + among 'em—who's mighty cunnin' an' learned. His name is Jose Miguel. + </p> + <p> + "'An' I'm beginnin' to figger,' says Peets, 'that this ghostly rider is + the foxy little Jose Miguel. Which I've frequent talked with him; an' he + saveys enough about drugs an' chemicals to paint up with phosphorus an' go + surgin' about an' stampedin' cattle over bluffs. It's a mighty good idee + from his standp'int. He can argue that the cattle kills themse'fs—sort + o' commits sooicide inadvertent—an' if we-all trades up on him with + the beef, he insists on his innocence, an' puts it up that his cuttin' in + on the play after said cattle done slays themse'fs injures nobody but + coyotes.' + </p> + <p> + "'Doc,' coincides Enright, after roominatin' in silence, 'Doc, the longer + I ponders, the more them theories seems sagacious. That enterprisin' + Greaser is jest about killin' my beef an' sellin' it to the entire plaza. + Not only does this ghost play opp'rate to stampede the cattle an' set 'em + runnin' cimmaron an' locoed so they'll chase over the cliffs to their + ends, but it serves to scare my cow-punchers off the range, which last, + ondoubted, this Miguel looks on as a deesideratum. However, it's goin' to + be good an' dark to-night, an' if we-all has half luck I reckons that we + fixes him.' + </p> + <p> + "It's full two hours after midnight an' while thar's stars overhead thar's + no moon; along the top of the <i>mesa</i> it's as dark as the inside of a + jug. Peets an' Enright is Injunin' about on the prowl for the ghost. They + don't much reckon it'll be abroad, as mebby the plaza has beef enough. + </p> + <p> + "'However, by to-morry night,' says Enright in a whisper, 'or at the + worst, by the night after, we're shore to meet up with this marauder.' + </p> + <p> + "'Hesh!' whispers Peets, at the same time stoppin' Enright with his hand, + 'he's out to-night!' + </p> + <p> + "An' thar for shore is something like a dim bloo light movin' across the + plains. Now an' then, two brighter lights shows in spots like the blazes + of candles; them's the fire eyes the locoed cowboys tells of. Whatever it + is, whether spook or Greaser, it's quarterin' the ground like one of these + huntin' dogs. Its gait is a slow canter. + </p> + <p> + "'He's on the scout,' says Enright,' 'tryin' to start a steer or two in + the dark; but he ain't located none yet.' + </p> + <p> + "Enright an' Peets slides to the ground an' hobbles their broncos. They + don't aim to have 'em go swarmin' over no bluffs in any blindness of a + first surprise. When the ponies is safe, they bends low an' begins makin' + up towards the ground on which this bloo-shimmerin' shadow is ha'ntin' + about. Things comes their way; they has luck. They've done crope about + forty rods when the ghost heads for 'em. They can easy tell he's comin', + for the fire eyes shows all the time an' not by fits an' starts as former. + As the bloo shimmer draws nearer they makes out the vague shadows of a man + on a hoss. Son, she's shore plenty ghostly as a vision, an' Enright allows + later, it's no marvel the punchers vamoses sech scenes. + </p> + <p> + "'How about it,' whispers Peets; 'shall I do the shootin'?' + </p> + <p> + "'Which your eyes is younger,' says Enright. 'You cut loose; an' I'll + stand by to back the play. Only aim plenty low. You can't he'p + over-shootin' in the dark. Hold as low as his stirrup.' + </p> + <p> + "Peets pulls himse'f up straight as a saplin' an' runs his left hand along + the bar'l as far as his arm'll reach. An' he hangs long on the aim as + shootin' in the dark ain't no cinch. If this ghost is a bright ghost it + would be easy. But he ain't; he's bloo an' dim like washed out moonlight, + or when it's jest gettin' to be dawn. Enright's twenty yards to one side + so as to free himse'f of Peet's smoke in case he has to make a second + shot. + </p> + <p> + "But Peets calls the turn. With the crack of that Sharp's of his, the + ghost sets up sech a screech it proves he ain't white an' also that he'll + live through the evenin's events. As the spectre yelps, the bloo cayouse + goes over on its head an' neck an' then falls dead on its side. The lead + which only smashes the spectre's knee to splinters goes plumb through the + pony's heart. + </p> + <p> + "As Peets foresees, the ghost ain't none other than the wise little Jose + Miguel, schoolmaster, who's up on drugs an' chemicals. The bloo glimmer is + phosphorus; an' the fire eyes is two of these little old lamps like miners + packs in their caps. + </p> + <p> + "Enright an' Peets strolls up; this Miguel is groanin' an' mournin' an' + cryin' 'Marie, Madre de Dios!' When he sees who downs him, he drags + himse'f to Enright an' begs a heap abject for his life. With that, Enright + silently lets down the hammer of his rifle. + </p> + <p> + "Peets when the sun comes up enjoys himse'f speshul with the opp'ration. + Peets is fond of ampytations, that a-way, and he lops off said limb with + zest an' gusto. + </p> + <p> + "'I shore deplores, Jose,' says Peets, 'to go shortenin' up a fellow + scientist like this. But thar's no he'pin' it; fate has so decreed. Also, + as some comfort to your soul, I'll explain to Sam Enright how you won't + ride much when I gets you fairly trimmed. Leastwise, after I'm done + prunin' you, thar won't be nothin' but these yere woman's saddles that + you'll fit, an' no gent, be he white or be he Greaser, can work cattle + from a side-saddle.' An' Peets, hummin' a roundelay, cuts merrily into the + wounded member." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. Tucson Jennie's Correction. + </h2> + <p> + "Doc Peets, son," said the Old Cattleman, while his face wore the look of + decent gravity it ever donned when that man of medicine was named, "Doc + Peets has his several uses. Aside from him bein' a profound sharp on + drugs, an' partic'lar cowboy drugs, he's plenty learned in a gen'ral way, + an' knows where every kyard lays in nacher's deck, from them star-flecked + heavens above to the earth beneath, an'—as Scripter puts it—to + the 'waters onder the earth.' It's a good scheme to have a brace of highly + eddicated gents, same as Colonel Sterett an' Doc Peets, sort o' idlin' + 'round your camp. Thar's times when a scientist, or say, a lit'rary sport + comes bluffin' into Wolfville; an' sech folks is a mighty sight too deep + for Boggs an' me an' Tutt. If we're left plumb alone with a band of them + book-read shorthorns like I deescribes, you-all sees yourse'f, they're + bound to go spraddlin' East ag'in, an' report how darkened Wolfville is. + But not after they locks horns with Doc Peets or Colonel Sterett. + Wherefore, whenever the camp's invaded by any over-enlightened people + who's gone too far in schools for the rest of us to break even with, we + ups an' plays Doc Peets or Colonel Sterett onto 'em; an' the way either of + them gents would turn in an' tangle said visitors up mental don't bother + 'em a bit. That's straight; Peets an' the Colonel is our refooge; they're + our protectors; an' many a time an' oft, have I beheld 'em lay for some + vain-glorious savant who's got a notion the Southwest, that a-way, is a + region of savagery where the folks can't even read an' write none, an' + they'd rope, throw, an' hawgtie him—verbal, I means—an' brand + his mem'ry with the red-hot fact that he's wrong an' been wadin' in error + up to the saddle-girths touchin' the intellectooal attainments of good old + Arizona. Shore,—Doc Peets has other uses than drugs, an' he + discharges 'em. + </p> + <p> + "Now that I thinks of the matter, it's Doc Peets who restores Dave Tutt to + full standin' with Tucson Jennie, the time she begins to neglect Dave. You + see, the trouble is this a-way: It really starts—leastwise I allers + so believes—in Dave's beginnin' wrong with Tucson Jennie. Troo, as I + confesses to you frequent yeretofore, I ain't married none myse'f; still, + I've been livin' a likely number of years, an' has nacherally witnessed a + whole lot touchin' other gents an' their wives; an' sech experiences is + bound to breed concloosions. An' while I may be wrong, for these yere + views is nothin' more than a passel of ontested theeries with me, it's my + beliefs that thar's two attitoodes, speakin' gen'ral, which a gent + assoomes toward his bride. Either he deals with her on what we-all will + call the buck-squaw system, or he turns the game about complete, an' + organises his play on the gentleman-lady system. In the latter, the gent + waits on his wife; he comes an' he goes, steps high or soft, exactly as + she commands. She gives the orders; an' he rides a pony to death + execootin' 'em, an' no reemonstrances nor queries. That wife is range an' + round-up boss for her outfit. + </p> + <p> + "But the buck-squaw system is after all more hooman an' satisfactory. It's + opposite to the other. The gent is reesponsible for beef on the hook an' + flour in the bar'l. He's got to provide the blankets, make good ag'in the + household's hunger, an' see to it thar's allers wood an' water within easy + throw of every camp he pitches. Beyond that, however, the gent who's + playin' the buck-squaw system don't wander. When he's in camp, he + distinguishes himse'f by doin' nothin'. He wrops himse'f in his blankets, + camps down by the fire, while his wife rustles his chuck an' fills his + pipe for him. At first glance, this yere buck-squaw system might strike a + neeophyte as a mighty brootal scheme. Jest the same, it'll eemerge winner + twenty times to the gentleman-lady system's once. The women folks like it. + Which they'll pretend they prefers the gentleman-lady system, where they + sets still an' the gent attends on 'em; but don't you credit it, none + whatever. It's the good old patriarchal, buck-squaw idee, where the gent + does nothin' an' the lady goes prancin' about like the ministerin' angel + which she is, that tickles her to death. I states ag'in, that it's my + notion, Dave who begins with Tucson Jennie—they bein' man an' wife—on + the gentleman-lady system, tharby hatches cold neglect for himse'f. An' if + it ain't for the smooth savey of Doc Peets, thar's no sport who could + foretell the disastrous end. Dave, himse'f thinks he'd have had eventool + to resign his p'sition as Jennie's husband an' quit. + </p> + <p> + "Which I've onfolded to you prior of Jennie's gettin' jealous of Dave + touchin' that English towerist female; but this yere last trouble ain't no + likeness nor kin to that. Them gusts of jealousy don't do no harm nohow; + nor last the day. They're like thunder showers; brief an' black enough, + but soon over an' leavin' the world brighter. + </p> + <p> + "This last attitoode of Jennie towards Dave is one of abandonment an' + onthinkin' indifference that a-way. It begins hard on the fetlocks of that + interestin' event, thrillin' to every proud Wolfville heart, the birth of + Dave's only infant son, Enright Peets Tutt. Which I never does cross up + with no one who deems more of her progeny than Jennie does of the yoothful + Enright Peets. A cow's solicitoode concernin' her calf is chill regyard + compared tharwith. Jennie hangs over Enright Peets like some dew-jewelled + hollyhock over a gyarden fence; you'd think he's a roast apple; an' I + don't reckon now, followin' that child's advent, she ever sees another + thing in Arizona but jest Enright Peets. He's the whole check-rack—the + one bet that wins on the layout of the possible—an' Jennie proceeds + to conduct herse'f accordin'. It's a good thing mebby for Enright Peets; I + won't set camped yere an' say it ain't; but it's mighty hard on Dave. + </p> + <p> + "Jennie not only neglects Dave, she turns herse'f loose frequent an' + assails him. If he shows up in his wigwam walkin' some emphatic, Jennie'll + be down on him like a fallin' star an' accoose him of wakin' Enright + Peets. + </p> + <p> + "'An' if you-all wakes him,' says Jennie to Dave, sort o' domineerin' at + him with her forefinger, 'he'll be sick; an' if he gets sick, he'll die; + an' if he dies, you'll be a murderer—the heartless deestroyer of + your own he'pless offspring,—which awful deed I sometimes thinks + you're p'intin' out to pull off.' An' then Jennie would put her apron over + her head an' shed tears a heap; while Dave—all harrowed up an' + onstrung—would come stampedin' down to the Red Light an' get + consolation from Black Jack by the quart. + </p> + <p> + "That's the idee, son; it's impossible to go into painful details, 'cause + I ain't in Dave's or Jennie's confidence enough to round 'em up; but you + onderstands what I means. Jennie's forever hectorin' an' pesterin' Dave + about Enright Peets; an' beyond that she don't pay no more heed, an' don't + have him no more on her mind, than if he's one of these yere little + jimcrow ground-owls you-all sees inhabitin' about dissoloote an' permiscus + with prairie-dogs. What's the result? Dave's sperits begins to sink; he + takes to droopin' about listless an' onregyardful; an' he's that low an' + onhappy his nosepaint don't bring him no more of comfort than if he's a + graven image. Why, it's the saddest thing I ever sees in Wolfville! + </p> + <p> + "We-all observes how Dave's dwindlin' an' pinin' an' most of us has a + foggy onderstandin' of the trooth. But what can we do? If thar's ever a + aggregation of sports who's powerless, utter, to come to the rescoo of a + comrade in a hole, it's Enright an' Moore an' Boggs an' Texas Thompson an' + Cherokee an' me, doorin' them days when that neglect of Tucson Jennie's is + makin' pore Dave's burdens more'n he can b'ar. Shore, we consults; but + that don't come to nothin' ontil the o'casion when Doc Peets takes the + tangle in ser'ous hand. + </p> + <p> + "Thar's a day dawns when Missis Rucker gets exasperated over Dave's + ill-yoosage. Missis Rucker is a sperited person an' she canters over an' + onloads her opinions on Tucson Jennie. Commonly, these yere ladies can't + think too much of one another; but on this one division of the house of + Tutt, Missis Rucker goes out on Dave's angle of the game. An' you-all + should have seen the terror it inspires when Missis Rucker declar's her + hostile intentions. + </p> + <p> + "It's in the O.K. restauraw, when Missis Rucker, who's feedin' us our + mornin' flap-jacks an' salt hoss as usual, turns to Old Man Enright, an' + says: + </p> + <p> + "'As soon as ever I've got the last drunkard fed an' outen the house, I'm + goin' to put on my shaker an' go an' tell that Tucson Jennie Tutt what's + on my mind. I shore never sees a woman change more than Jennie since the + days when she cooks for me in this yere very restauraw an' lays plans an' + plots to lure Dave into wedlock. I will say that Jennie, nacheral, is a + good wife; but the fashion, wherein she tromples on Dave an' his rights is + a disgrace to her sex, an' I'm goin' to deevote a hour this mornin' to + callin' Jennie's attention tharunto.' + </p> + <p> + "'Missis Rucker is a mighty intrepid lady,' says Enright, when we goes + over to the New York store followin' feed. 'I'd no more embrace them + chances she's out to tackle than I'd go dallyin' about a wronged grizzly. + But jest the same, I'd give a stack of reds if Peets is here! When did he + say he'd be back from Tucson?' + </p> + <p> + "'The Doc don't allow he'll come trailin' in ag'in,' says Dan Boggs, + 'ontil day after to-morry. Which this female dooel will be plumb over by + then, an' most likely the camp a wrack.' + </p> + <p> + "While we-all stands thar gazin' on each other, enable to su'gest anything + to meet the emergency, Texas Thompson's pony is brought up from the + corral, saddled an' bridled, an' ready for the trail. + </p> + <p> + "'Well, gents,' says Texas, when he sees his hoss is come, 'I reckons I'll + say <i>adios</i> an' pull my freight. I'll be back in a week.' + </p> + <p> + "'Wherever be you p'intin' for?' asks Cherokee Hall. 'Ain't this goin' of + yours some sudden?' + </p> + <p> + "'It is a trifle hasty,' says Texas; 'but do you cimmarons think I'm goin' + to linger yere after Missis Rucker gives notice she's preparin' to burn + the ground around Tucson Jennie about Dave? Gents, I don't pack the nerve! + I ain't lived three years with my former wife who gets that Laredo divorce + I once or twice adverts to, an' not know enough not to get caught out on + no sech limb as this. No, sir; I sees enough of woman an' her ways to + teach me that now ain't no time to be standin' about irresoloote an' + ondecided, an' I'm goin' to dig out for Tucson, you bet, ontil this + uprisin' subsides.' + </p> + <p> + "This example of Texas scares us up a whole lot; the fact is, it stampedes + us; an' without a further word of argyment, the whole band makes a break + for the corral, throws saddles onto the swiftest ponies, an' in two + minutes we're lost in that cloud of alkali dust we kicks up down the trail + toward the no'th. + </p> + <p> + "'Which I won't say that this exodus is necessary,' observes Enright, when + ten miles out we slows up to a road gait to breathe our ponies, 'but I + thinks on the whole it's safer. Besides, I oughter go over to Tucson + anyway on business.' + </p> + <p> + "The rest of us don't make no remarks nor excooses; but every gent is + feelin' like a great personal peril has blown by. + </p> + <p> + "The next day, we rounds up Doc Peets, an' he encourages us so that we + concloods to return an' make a size-up of results. + </p> + <p> + "'I shore hopes we finds Dave safe.' says Dan Boggs. + </p> + <p> + "'It's even money,' says Jack Moore, 'that Dave pulls through. Dave's a + mighty wary sport when worst comes to worst; an' as game as redhead ants.' + </p> + <p> + "'That's all right about Dave bein' game,' retorts Dan, 'but this yere's a + time when Dave ain't got no show. I says ag'in, I trust he retains + decision of character sufficient to go hide out doorin' the storm. It + ain't no credit to us that we forgets to bring him along.' + </p> + <p> + "'No; thar wasn't no harm done,' says Faro Nell, who reports progress to + us after we rounds up in the Red Light followin' our return. Nell's a + brave girl an' stands a pat hand when the rest of us vamosed that time. + 'Thar ain't no real trouble. Missis Rucker merely sets fire to Jennie + about the way she maltreats Dave; an' she says Jennie's drivin' him + locoed, an' no wonder. Also, she lets on she don't see whatever Dave + marries Jennie for anyhow! + </p> + <p> + "'At that, Jennie comes back an' reminds Missis Rucker how she herse'f + done treats Mister Rucker that turrible he goes cavortin' off an' seeks + safety among the Apaches. An' so they keeps on slingin' it back'ards an' + for'ards for mebby two hours, an' me ha'ntin' about to chunk in a word. + Then, final, they cries an' makes up; an' then they both concedes that one + way an' another they're the best two people each other ever sees. At this + juncture,' concloods Nell, 'I declar's myse'f in on the play; an' we-all + three sets down an' admires Enright Peets an' visits an' has a splendid + afternoon.' + </p> + <p> + "'An' wherever doorin' this emute is Dave?' asks Enright. + </p> + <p> + "'Oh, Dave?' says Nell. 'Why he's lurkin' about outside som'ers in a + furtive, surreptitious way; but he don't molest us none. Which, now I + remembers, Dave don't even come near us none at all.' + </p> + <p> + "'I should say not!' says Texas Thompson, plenty emphatic. 'Dave ain't + quite that witless.' + </p> + <p> + "'Now, gents,' remarks Doc Peets, when Nell is done, an' his tones is + confident like he's certain of his foothold, 'since things has gone thus + far I'll sa'nter into the midst of these domestic difficulties an' adjust + 'em some. I've thought up a s'lootion; an' it's apples to ashes that + inside of twenty-four hours I has Jennie pettin' an' cossetin' Dave to + beat four of a kind. Leave this yere matter to me entire.' + </p> + <p> + "We-all can't see jest how Peets is goin' to work these mir'cles; still, + sech is our faith, we believes. We decides among ourse'fs, however, that + if Peets does turn this pacific trick it'll ondoubted be the crownin' + glory of his c'reer. + </p> + <p> + "After Peets hangs up his bluff, we goes about strainin' eyes an' y'ears + for any yells or signal smokes that denotes the advent of said changes. + An', son, hard as it is to credit, it comes to pass like Peets + prognosticates. By next evenin' a great current of tenderness for Dave + goes over Jennie all at once. She begins to call him 'Davy'—a + onheard of weakness!—an' hovers about him askin' whatever he thinks + he needs; in fact, she becomes that devoted, it looks like the little + Enright Peets'll want he'p next to play his hand for him. That's the + trooth: Jennie goes mighty clost to forgettin' Enright Peets now an' then + in her wifely anxieties concernin' Dave. + </p> + <p> + "As for Dave himse'f, he don't onderstand his sudden an' onmerited + pop'larity; but wearin' a dazed grin of satisfied ignorance, that a-way, + he accepts the sityooation without askin' reasons, an' proceeds to profit + tharby. That household is the most reeconciled model fam'ly outfit in all + broad Arizona. An' it so continyoos to the end. + </p> + <p> + "'Whatever did you do or say, Doc?' asks Enright a month later, as we-all + from across the street observes how Jennie kisses Dave good-bye at the + door an' then stands an' looks after him like she can't b'ar to have him + leave her sight; 'what's the secret of this second honeymoon of Dave's?' + </p> + <p> + "'Which I don't say much,' says Peets. 'I merely takes Jennie one side an' + exhorts her to brace up an' show herse'f a brave lady. Then I explains + that while I ain't told Dave none—as his knowin' wouldn't do no good—I + regyards it as my medical dooty to inform her so's she'll be ready to meet + the shock. "The trooth is, Missis Tutt," I says, "pore Dave's got heart + disease, an' is booked to cash in any moment. I can't say when he'll die + exactly; the only shore thing is he can't survive a year." She sheds + torrents of tears; an' then I warns her she mustn't let Dave see her grief + or bushwhack anything but smiles on her face, or mightly likely it'll stop + his clock right thar. "Can't nothin' be done for Dave?" she asks. + "Nothin'," I replies, "except be tender an' lovin' an' make Dave's last + days as pleasant an' easy as you can. We must jump in an' smooth the path + to his totterin' moccasins with gentleness an' love," I says, "an' be + ready, when the blow does fall, to b'ar it with what fortitoode we may." + That's all I tells her. However, it looks like it's becomin' a case of + overplay in one partic'lar; our pore young namesake, Enright Peets, is + himse'f gettin' a trifle the worst of it, an' I'm figgerin' that to-morry, + mebby, I'll look that infant over, an' vouchsafe the news thar's something + mighty grievous the matter with his lungs.'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. Bill Connors of the Osages. + </h2> + <p> + "Nacherally, if you-all is frettin' to hear about Injuns," observed the + Old Cattleman in reply to my latest request, "I better onfold how Osage + Bill Connors gets his wife. Not that thar's trouble in roundin' up this + squaw; none whatever. She comes easy; all the same said tale elab'rates + some of them savage customs you're so cur'ous concernin'." + </p> + <p> + My companion arose and kicked together the logs in the fireplace. This + fireplace was one of the great room's comforts as well as ornaments. The + logs leaped into much accession of flame, and crackled into sparks, and + these went gossiping up the mighty chimney, their little fiery voices + making a low, soft roaring like the talk of bees. + </p> + <p> + "This chimley draws plenty successful," commented my friend. "Which it + almost breaks even with a chimley I constructs once in my log camp on the + Upper Red. That Red River floo is a wonder! Draw? Son, it could draw four + kyards an' make a flush. But that camp of mine on the Upper Red is over + eight thousand foot above the sea as I'm informed by a passel of surveyor + sports who comes romancin' through the hills with a spyglass on three + pegs; an' high altitoods allers proves a heap exileratin' to a fire. + </p> + <p> + "But speakin' of Bill Connors: In Wolfville—which them days is the + only part of my c'reer whereof I'm proud an' reviews with onmixed + satisfaction—Doc Peets is, like you, inquis'tive touchin' Injuns. + Peets puts it up that some day he's doo to write books about 'em. Which in + off hours, an' when we-all is more or less at leesure over our Valley Tan, + Peets frequent comes explorin' 'round for details. Shore, I imparts all I + saveys about Bill Connors, an' likewise sech other aborigines as lives in + mem'ry; still, it shakes my estimates of Peets to find him eager over + Injuns, they bein' low an' debasin' as topics. I says as much to Peets. + </p> + <p> + "'Never you-all mind about me,' says Peets. 'I knows so much about white + folks it comes mighty clost to makin' me sick. I seeks tales of Injuns as + a relief an' to promote a average in favor of the species.' + </p> + <p> + "This Bill Connors' is a good-lookin' young buck when I cuts his trail; + straight as a pine an' strong an' tireless as a bronco. It's about six + years after the philanthrofists ropes onto Bill an' drags him off to a + school. You-all onderstands about a philanthrofist—one of these + sports who's allers improvin' some party's condition in a way the party + who's improved don't like. + </p> + <p> + "'A philanthrofist,' says Colonel Sterett, one time when Dan Boggs demands + the explanation at his hands; 'a philanthrofist is a gent who insists on + you givin' some other gent your money.' + </p> + <p> + "For myse'f, however, I regyards the Colonel's definition as too narrow. + Troo philanthrofy has a heap of things to it that's jest as onreasonable + an' which does not incloode the fiscal teachers mentioned by the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + "As I'm sayin'; these well-meanin' though darkened sports, the + philanthrofists, runs Bill down—it's mebby when he's fourteen, only + Injuns don't keep tab on their years none—an' immures him in one of + the gov'ment schools. It's thar Bill gets his name, 'Bill Connors.' Before + that he cavorts about, free an' wild an' happy onder the Injun app'lation + of the 'Jack Rabbit.' + </p> + <p> + "Shore! Bill's sire—a savage who's 'way up in the picture kyards, + an' who's called 'Crooked Claw' because of his left hand bein' put out of + line with a Ute arrow through it long ago—gives his consent to Bill + j'inin' that sem'nary. Crooked Claw can't he'p himse'f; he's powerless; + the Great Father in Washin'ton is backin' the play of the philanthrofists. + </p> + <p> + "'Which the Great Father is too many for Crooked Claw,' says this parent, + commentin' on his helplessness. Bill's gone canterin' to his old gent to + remonstrate, not hungerin' for learnin', an' Crooked Claw says this to + Bill: 'The Great Father is too many for Crooked Claw; an' too strong. You + must go to school as the Great Father orders; it is right. The longest + spear is right.' + </p> + <p> + "Bill is re-branded, 'Bill Connors,' an' then he's done bound down to them + books. After four years Bill gradyooates; he's got the limit an' the + philanthrofists takes Bill's hobbles off an' throws him loose with the + idee that Bill will go back to his tribe folks an' teach 'em to read. Bill + comes back, shore, an' is at once the Osage laughin'-stock for wearin' + pale-face clothes. Also, the medicine men tells Bill he'll die for talkin' + paleface talk an' sportin' a paleface shirt, an' these prophecies preys on + Bill who's eager to live a heap an' ain't ready to cash in. Bill gets back + to blankets an' feathers in about a month. + </p> + <p> + "Old Black Dog, a leadin' sharp among the Osages, is goin' about with a + dab of clay in his ha'r, and wearin' his most ornery blanket. That's + because Black Dog is in mournin' for a squaw who stampedes over the Big + Divide, mebby it's two months prior. Black Dog's mournin' has got dealt + down to the turn like; an' windin' up his grief an' tears, Osage fashion, + he out to give a war-dance. Shore; the savages rings in a war-dance on all + sorts of cer'monies. It don't allers mean that they're hostile, an' about + to spraddle forth on missions of blood. Like I states, Black Dog, who's + gone to the end of his mournful lariat about the departed squaw, turns + himse'f on for a war-dance; an' he nacherally invites the Osage nation to + paint an' get in on the festiv'ties. + </p> + <p> + "Accordin' to the rooles, pore Bill, jest back from school, has got to cut + in. Or he has his choice between bein' fined a pony or takin' a lickin' + with mule whips in the hands of a brace of kettle-tenders whose delight as + well as dooty it is to mete out the punishment. Bill can't afford to go + shy a pony, an' as he's loth to accept the larrupin's, he wistfully makes + ready to shake a moccasin at the <i>baile</i>. An' as nothin' but + feathers, blankets, an' breech-clouts goes at a war-dance—the same + bein' Osage dress-clothes—Bill shucks his paleface garments an' + arrays himse'f after the breezy fashion of his ancestors. Bill attends the + war dance an' shines. Also, bein' praised by the medicine men an' older + bucks for quittin' his paleface duds; an' findin' likewise the old-time + blanket an' breech-clout healthful an' saloobrious—which Bill + forgets their feel in his four years at that sem'nary—he adheres to + 'em. This lapse into aboriginal ways brews trouble for Bill; he gets up + ag'inst the agent. + </p> + <p> + "It's the third day after Black Dog's war-dance, an' Bill, all paint an' + blankets an' feathers, is sa'nterin' about Pawhusky, takin' life easy an' + Injun fashion. It's then the agent connects with Bill an' sizes him up. + The agent asks Bill does he stand in on this yere Black Dog war-dance. + </p> + <p> + "'Don't they have no roast dog at that warjig?' asks Dan Boggs, when I'm + relatin' these reminiscences in the Red Light. + </p> + <p> + "'No,' I says; 'Osages don't eat no dogs.' + </p> + <p> + "'It's different with Utes a lot,' says Dan, 'Which Utes regyards dogs + fav'rable, deemin' 'em a mighty sucyoolent an' nootritious dish. The time + I'm with the Utes they pulls off a shindig, "tea dance" it is, an', as + what Huggins would call "a star feacher" they ups an' roasts a white dog. + That canine is mighty plethoric an' fat, an' they lays him on his broad, + he'pless back an' shets off his wind with a stick cross-wise of his neck, + an' two bucks pressin' on the ends. When he's good an' dead an' all + without no suffoosion of blood, the Utes singes his fur off in a fire an' + bakes him as he is. I partakes of that dog—some. I don't nacherally + lay for said repast wide-jawed, full-toothed an' reemorseless, like it's + flapjacks—I don't gorge myse'f none; but when I'm in Rome, I strings + my chips with the Romans like the good book says, an' so I sort o' eats + baked dog with the Utes. Otherwise, I'd hurt their sens'bilities; an' I + ain't out to harrow up no entire tribe an' me playin' a lone hand.' + </p> + <p> + "That agent questions Bill as to the war-dance carryin's on of old Black + Dog. Then he p'ints at Bill's blankets an' feathers an' shakes his head a + heap disapprobative. + </p> + <p> + "'Shuck them blankets an' feathers,' says the agent, 'an' get back into + your trousers a whole lot; an' be sudden about it, too. I puts up with the + divers an' sundry rannikabooisms of old an' case-hardened Injuns who's + savage an' ontaught. But you're different; you've been to school an' + learned the virchoos of pants; wherefore, I looks for you to set + examples.' + </p> + <p> + "It's then Bill gets high an' allows he'll wear clothes to suit himse'f. + Bill denounces trousers as foolish in their construction an' fallacious in + their plan. Bill declar's they're a bad scheme, trousers is; an' so sayin' + he defies the agent to do his worst. Bill stands pat on blankets an' + feathers. + </p> + <p> + "'Which you will, will you!' remarks this agent. + </p> + <p> + "Then he claps Bill in irons mighty decisive, an' plants him up ag'in the + high face of a rock bluff which has been frownin' down on Bird River since + Adam makes his first camp. Havin' got Bill posed to his notion, this + earnest agent, puttin' a hammer into Bill's rebellious hand, starts him to + breakin' rock. + </p> + <p> + "'Which the issue is pants,' says the obdurate agent sport; 'an' I'll keep + you-all whackin' away at them boulders while the cliff lasts onless you + yields. Thar's none of you young bucks goin' to bluff me, an' that's + whatever!' + </p> + <p> + "Bill breaks rocks two days. The other Osages comes an' perches about, + sympathetic, an' surveys Bill. They exhorts him to be firm; they gives it + out in Osage he's a patriot. + </p> + <p> + "Bill's willin' to be a patriot as the game is commonly dealt, but when + his love of country takes the form of poundin' rocks, the noble sentiments + which yeretofore bubbles in Bill's breast commences to pall on Bill an' he + becomes none too shore but what trousers is right. By second drink time—only + savages don't drink, a paternal gov'ment barrin' nosepaint on account of + it makin' 'em too fitfully exyooberant—by second drink time the + second evenin' Bill lays down his hand—pitches his hammer into the + diskyard as it were—an' when I crosses up with him, Bill's that + abject he wears a necktie. When Bill yields, the agent meets him half way, + an' him an' Bill rigs a deal whereby Bill arrays himse'f Osage fashion + whenever his hand's crowded by tribal customs. Other times, Bill inhabits + trousers; an' blankets an' feathers is rooled out. + </p> + <p> + "Shore, I talks with Bill's father, old Crooked Claw. This yere savage is + the ace-kyard of Osage-land as a fighter. No, that outfit ain't been on + the warpath for twenty years when I sees 'em then it's with Boggs' old + pards, the Utes. I asks Crooked Claw if he likes war. He tells me that he + dotes on carnage like a jaybird, an' goes forth to battle as joobilant as + a drunkard to a shootin' match. That is, Crooked Claw used to go curvin' + off to war, joyful, at first. Later his glee is subdooed because of the + big chances he's takin'. Then he lugs out 'leven skelps, all Ute, an' + eloocidates. + </p> + <p> + "'This first maverick,' says Crooked Claw—of course, I gives him in + the American tongue, not bein' equal to the reedic'lous broken Osage he + talks—'this yere first maverick,' an' he strokes the braided ha'r of + a old an' smoke-dried skelp, 'is easy. The chances, that a-way, is even. + Number two is twice as hard; an' when I snags onto number three—I + downs that hold-up over by the foot of Fisher's Peak—the chances has + done mounted to be three to one ag'in me. So it goes gettin' higher an' + higher, ontil when I corrals my 'leventh, it's 'leven to one he wins + onless he's got killin's of his own to stand off mine. I don't reckon none + he has though,' says Crooked Claw, curlin' his nose contemptuous. 'He's + heap big squaw—a coward; an' would hide from me like a quail. He + looks big an' brave an' strong, but his heart is bad—he is a poor + knife in a good sheath. So I don't waste a bullet on him, seein' his fear, + but kills him with my war-axe. Still, he raises the chances ag'inst me to + twelve to one, an' after that I goes careful an' slow. I sends in my young + men; but for myse'f I sort o' hungers about the suburbs of the racket, + takin' no resks an' on the prowl for a cinch,—some sech pick-up as a + sleeper, mebby. But my 'leventh is my last; the Great Father in Washin'ton + gets tired with us an' he sends his walk-a-heaps an' buffalo soldiers'—these + savages calls niggers 'buffalo soldiers,' bein' they're that woolly—'an' + makes us love peace. Which we'd a-had the Utes too dead to skin if it + ain't for the walk-a-heaps an' buffalo soldiers.' + </p> + <p> + "An' at this Crooked Claw tosses the bunch of Ute top-knots to one of his + squaws, fills up his red-stone pipe with kinnikinick an' begins to smoke, + lookin' as complacent as a catfish doorin' a Joone rise. + </p> + <p> + "Bill Connors has now been wanderin' through this vale of tears for mebby + she's twenty odd years, an' accordin' to Osage tenets, Bill's doo to get + wedded. No, Bill don't make no move; he comports himse'f lethargic; the + reesponsibilities of the nuptials devolves on Bill's fam'ly. + </p> + <p> + "It's one of the excellentest things about a Injun that he don't pick out + no wife personal, deemin' himse'f as too locoed to beat so difficult a + game. + </p> + <p> + "Or mebby, as I observes to Texas Thompson one time in the Red Light when + him an' me's discussin', or mebby it's because he's that callous he don't + care, or that shiftless he won't take trouble. + </p> + <p> + "'Whatever's the reason,' says Texas, on that o'casion, heavin' a sigh, + 'thar's much to be said in praise of the custom. If it only obtains among + the whites thar's one sport not onknown to me who would have shore passed + up some heartaches. You can bet a hoss, no fam'ly of mine would pick out + the lady who beats me for that divorce back in Laredo to be the spouse of + Texas Thompson. Said household's got too much savey to make sech a break.' + </p> + <p> + "While a Osage don't select that squaw of his, still I allers entertains a + theery that he sort o' saveys what he's ag'inst an' no he'pmeet gets sawed + off on him objectionable an' blind. I figgers, for all he don't let on, + that sech is the sityooation in the marital adventures of Bill. His fam'ly + picks the Saucy Willow out; but it's mighty likely he signs up the lady to + some discreet member of his outfit before ever they goes in to make the + play. + </p> + <p> + "Saucy Willow for a savage is pretty—pretty as a pinto hoss. Her + parent, old Strike Axe, is a morose but common form of Osage, strong + financial, with a big bunch of cattle an' more'n two hundred ponies. Bill + gets his first glimpse, after he comes back from school, of the lovely + Saucy Willow at a dance. This ain't no war-dance nor any other ceremonious + splurge; it's a informal merrymakin', innocent an' free, same as is usual + with us at the Wolfville dance hall. Shore, Osages, lacks guitars an' + fiddles, an' thar's no barkeep nor nosepaint—none, in trooth, of the + fav'rable adjuncts wherewith we makes a evenin' in Hamilton's hurdygurdy a + season of social elevation, an' yet they pulls off their fandangoes with a + heap of verve, an' I've no doubt they shore enjoys themse'fs. + </p> + <p> + "For two hours before sundown the kettle-tenders is howlin' an' callin' + the dance throughout the Osage camp. Thar's to be a full moon, an' the + dance—the <i>Ingraska</i> it is; a dance the Osages buys from the + Poncas for eight ponies—is to come off in a big, high-board corral + called the 'Round House.' + </p> + <p> + "Followin' the first yell of the kettle-tenders, the young bucks begins to + paint up for the hilarity. You might see 'em all over camp, for it's + August weather an' the walls of the tents an' teepees is looped up to let + in the cool, daubin' the ocher on their faces an' braidin' the feathers + into their ha'r. This organisin' for a <i>baile</i> ain't no bagatelle, + an' two hours is the least wherein any se'f-respectin' buck who's out to + make a centre shot on the admiration of the squaws an' wake the envy of + rival bucks, can lay on the pigments, so he paints away at his face, + careful an' acc'rate, sizin' up results meanwhile in a jimcrow lookin' + glass. At last he's as radiant as a rainbow, an' after garterin' each laig + with a belt of sleigh-bells jest below the knee, he regyards himse'f with + a fav'rable eye an' allows he's ondoubted the wildest wag in his set. + </p> + <p> + "Each buck arrives at the Round House with his blanket wropped over his + head so as not to blind the onwary with his splendours. It's mebby second + drink time after sundown an' the full moon is swingin' above effulgent. + The bucks who's doo to dance sets about one side of the Round House on a + board bench; the squaws—not bein' in on the proposed activities—occupies + the other half, squattin' on the ground. Some of 'em packs their papooses + tied on to a fancy-ribboned, highly beaded board, an' this they makes a + cradle of by restin' one end on the ground an' the other on their toe, + rockin' the same meanwhile with a motion of the foot. Thar's a half hoop + over the head-end of these papoose boards, hung with bells for the papoose + to get infantile action on an' amoose his leesure. + </p> + <p> + "The bucks settin' about their side of the Round House, still wrops + themse'fs in their blankets so as not to dazzle the squaws to death + preematoor. At last the music peals forth. The music confines itse'f to a + bass drum—paleface drum it is—which is staked out hor'zontal + about a foot high from the grass over in the centre. The orchestra is a + decrepit buck with a rag-wropped stick; with this weepon he beats the + drum, chantin' at the same time a pensive refrain. + </p> + <p> + "Mebby a half-dozen squaws, with no papooses yet to distract 'em, camps + 'round this virchuoso with the rag-stick, an' yoonites their girlish howls + with his. You-all can put down a bet it don't remind you none of + nightingales or mockin' birds; but the Injuns likes it. Which their simple + sperits wallows in said warblin's! But to my notion they're more + calc'lated to loco a henhawk than furnish inspiration for a dance. + </p> + <p> + "'Tunk! tunk! tunk! tunk!' goes this rag-stick buck, while the squaws + chorus along with, 'Hy-yah! hy-yah! hy-yah-yah-yah! Hy-yah! hy-yah! + hy-yah-yah-yah!' an' all grievous, an' make no mistake! + </p> + <p> + "At the first 'tunk!' the bucks stiffen to their feet and cast off the + blankets. Feathers, paint, an' bells! they blaze an' tinkle in the + moonlight with a subdooed but savage elegance. They skates out onto the + grass, stilt-laig, an' each buck for himse'f. They go skootin' about, an' + weave an' turn an' twist like these yere water-bugs jiggin' it on the + surface of some pond. Sometimes a buck'll lay his nose along the ground + while he dances—sleigh bells jinglin', feathers tossin'! Then he'll + straighten up ontil he looks like he's eight foot tall; an' they shore + throws themse'fs with a heap of heart an' sperit. + </p> + <p> + "It's as well they does. If you looks clost you observes a brace of bucks, + and each packin' a black-snake whip. Them's kettle-tenders,—floor + managin' the <i>baile</i> they be; an' if a buck who's dancin' gets + preeoccupied with thinkin' of something else an' takes to prancin' an' + dancin' listless, the way the kettle-tenders pours the leather into him to + remind him his fits of abstraction is bad form, is like a religious + ceremony. An' it ain't no bad idee; said kettle-tenders shore promotes + what Colonel Sterett calls the <i>elan</i> of the dancin' bucks no end. + </p> + <p> + "After your eyes gets used to this whirlin' an' skatin' an' skootin' an' + weavin' in an' out, you notes two bucks, painted to a finish an' feathered + to the stars! who out-skoots an' out-whirls an' out-skates their fellow + bucks like four to one. They gets their nose a little lower one time an' + then stands higher in the air another, than is possible to the next best + buck. Them enthoosiasts ain't Osages at all; which they're niggers—full-blood + Senegambians they be, who's done j'ined the tribe. These Round House + festivals with the paint, the feathers, an' the bells, fills their + trop'cal hearts plumb full, an' forgettin' all about the white folks an' + their gyarded ways, they're the biggest Injuns to warm a heel that night. + </p> + <p> + "Saucy Willow is up by the damaged rag-stick buck lendin' a mouthful or + two of cl'ar, bell-like alto yelps to the harmony of the evenin'. Bill + who's a wonder in feathers an' bells, an' whose colour-scheme would drive + a temp'rance lecturer to drink, while zippin' about in the moonlight gets + his eye on her. Mighty likely Bill's smitten; but he don't let on, the + fam'ly like I relates, allers ropin' up a gent's bride. It's good bettin' + this yere Saucy Willow counts up Bill. If she does, however,—no more + than Bill,—she never tips her hand. The Saucy Willow yelps on + onconcerned, like her only dream of bliss is to show the coyotes what + vocal failures they be. + </p> + <p> + "It's a week after the <i>Ingraska</i>, an' Bill's fam'ly holds a round-up + to pick Bill out a squaw. He ain't present, havin' the savey to go + squanderin' off to play Injun poker with some Creek sports he hears has + money over on the Polecat. Bill's fam'ly makes quite a herd, bucks an' + squaws buttin' in on the discussion permiscus an' indiscrim'nate. Shore! + the squaws has as much to say as the bucks among Injuns. They owns their + own ponies an' backs their own play an' is as big a Injun as anybody, + allowin' for that nacheral difference between squaw dooties an' buck + dooties—one keeps camp while the other hunts, or doorin' war times + when one protects the herds an' plunder while the other faces the foe. You + hears that squaws is slaves? However is anybody goin' to be a slave where + thar's as near nothin' to do in the way of work as is possible an' let a + hooman live? Son, thar ain't as much hard labour done in a Injun camp in a + week—ain't as much to do as gets transacted at one of them rooral + oyster suppers to raise money for the preacher! + </p> + <p> + "Bill's fam'ly comes trailin' in to this powwow about pickin' out a squaw + for Bill. Besides Crooked Claw, thar's Bill's widow aunt, the Wild Cat—she's + plumb cunnin', the Wild Cat is, an' jest then bein' cel'brated among the + Osages for smokin' ponies with Black B'ar, a old buck, an' smokin' Black + B'ar out of his two best cayouses. Besides these two, thar's + The-man-who-bleeds, The-man-who-sleeps, Tom Six-killer, + The-man-who-steps-high, an' a dozen other squaws an' bucks, incloosive of + Bill's mother who's called the Silent Comanche, an' is takin' the play a + heap steady an' livin' up to her name. + </p> + <p> + "The folks sets 'round an' smokes Crooked Claw's kinnikinick. Then the + Wild Cat starts in to deal the game. She says it's time Bill's married, as + a onmarried buck is a menace; at this the others grunts agreement. Then + they all turns in to overhaul the el'gible young squaws. Which they shore + shows up them belles! One after the other they're drug over the coals. At + last the Wild Cat mentions the Saucy Willow jest as every savage present + knows will be done soon or late from the jump. The Saucy Willow obtains a + speshul an' onusual run for her money. But it's settled final that while + the Saucy Willow ain't none too good, she's the best they can do. The + Saucy Willow belongs to the Elk clan, while Bill belongs to the B'ar clan, + an' that at least is c'rrect. Injuns don't believe in inbreedin' so they + allers marries out of their clan. + </p> + <p> + "As soon as they settles on the Saucy Willow as Bill's squaw, they turns + in to make up the 'price.' The Wild Cat, who's rich, donates a kettle, a + side of beef, an' the two cayouses she smokes outen the besotted Black + B'ar. The rest chucks in accordin' to their means, Crooked Claw comin' up + strong with ten ponies; an' Bill's mother, the Silent Comanche, showin' + down with a bolt of calico, two buffalo robes, a sack of flour an' a + lookin' glass. This plunder is to go to the Saucy Willow's folks as a + 'price' for the squaw. No, they don't win on the play; the Saucy Willow's + parents is out <i>dinero</i> on the nuptials when all is done. They has to + give Bill their wickeyup. + </p> + <p> + "When Bill's outfit's fully ready to deal for blood they picks out some + bright afternoon. The Saucy Willow's fam'ly is goin' about lookin' + partic'lar harmless an' innocent; but they're coony enough to be in camp + that day. A procession starts from the Crooked Claw camp. Thar's + The-man-who-steps-high at the head b'arin' a flag, union down, an' riotin' + along behind is Tom Six-killer, The-man-who-sleeps, the Wild Cat and + others leadin' five ponies an' packin' kettles, flour, beef, an' sim'lar + pillage. They lays it all down an' stakes out the broncos about fifty + yards from Strike Axe's camp an' withdraws. + </p> + <p> + "Then some old squaw of the Strike Axe outfit issues forth an' throws the + broncos loose. That's to show that the Saucy Willow is a onusual excellent + young squaw an' pop'lar with her folks, an' they don't aim to shake her + social standin' by acceptin' sech niggard terms. + </p> + <p> + "But the Crooked Claw outfit ain't dismayed, an' takes this rebuff + phlegmatic. It's only so much ettyquette; an' now it's disposed of they + reorganise to lead ag'in to win. This time they goes the limit, an' brings + up fifteen ponies an' stacks in besides with blankets, robes, beef, flour, + calico, kettles, skillets, and looking-glasses enough to fill eight + waggons. This trip the old Strike Axe squaw onties the fifteen ponies an' + takin' 'em by their ropes brings 'em in clost to the Strike Axe camp, + tharby notifyin' the Crooked Claw band that their bluff for the Saucy + Willow is regyarded as feasible an' the nuptials goes. With this sign, the + Crooked Claws comes caperin' up to the Strike Axes an' the latter fam'ly + proceeds to rustle a profoosion of grub; an' with that they all turns in + an' eats old Strike Axe outen house an' home. The 'price' is split up + among the Strike Axe bunch, shares goin' even to second an' third cousins. + </p> + <p> + "Mebby she's a week later when dawns the weddin' day. Bill, who's been + lookin' a heap numb ever since these rites becomes acoote, goes projectin' + off alone onto the prairie. The Saucy Willow is hid in the deepest corner + of Strike Axe's teepee; which if she's visible, however, you'd be shore + amazed at the foolish expression she wears, but all as shy an' artless as + a yearlin' antelope. + </p> + <p> + "But it grows time to wind it up, an' one of the Strike Axe bucks climbs + into the saddle an' rides half way towards the camp of Crooked Claw. + Strike Axe an' Crooked Claw in antic'pation of these entanglements has + done pitched their camps about half a mile apart so as to give the pageant + spread an' distances. When he's half way, the Strike Axe buck fronts up + an' slams loose with his Winchester; it's a signal the <i>baile</i> is on. + </p> + <p> + "At the rifle crack, mounted on a pony that's the flower of the Strike Axe + herd, the Saucy Willow comes chargin' for the Crooked Claws like a + shootin' star. The Saucy Willow is a sunburst of Osage richness! an' is + packin' about five hundred dollars' worth of blankets, feathers, beads, + calicoes, ribbons, an' buckskins, not to mention six pounds of brass an' + silver jewelry. Straight an' troo comes the Saucy Willow; skimmin' like a + arrow an' as rapid as the wind! + </p> + <p> + "As Saucy Willow embarks on this expedition, thar starts to meet her—afoot + they be but on the run—Tom Six-killer an' a brace of squaw cousins + of Bill's. Nacherally, bein' he out-lopes the cousins, Tom Six-killer runs + up on the Saucy Willow first an' grabs her bronco by the bridle. The two + young squaw cousins ain't far behind the Six-killer, for they can run like + rabbits, an' they arrives all laughter an' cries, an' with one move + searches the Saucy Willow outen the saddle. In less time than it takes to + get action on a drink of licker the two young squaws has done stripped the + Saucy Willow of every feather, bead an' rag, an' naked as when she's + foaled they wrops her up, precious an' safe in a blanket an' packs her + gleefully into the camp of Crooked Claw. Here they re-dresses the Saucy + Willow an' piles on the gew-gaws an' adornments, ontil if anything she's + more gorgeous than former. The pony which the Saucy Willow rides goes to + the Six-killer, while the two she-cousins, as to the balance of her + apparel that a-way, divides the pot. + </p> + <p> + "An' now like a landslide upon the Crooked Claws comes the Strike Axe + household. Which they're thar to the forty-'leventh cousin; savages + keepin' exact cases on relatives a mighty sight further than white folks. + The Crooked Claw fam'ly is ready. It's Crooked Claw's turn to make the + feast, an' that eminent Osage goes the distance. Crooked Claw shorely does + himse'f proud, while Bill's mother, the Silent Comanche, is hospitable, + but dignified. It's a great weddin'. The Wild Cat is pirootin' about, + makin' mean an' onfeelin' remarks, as becomes a widow lady with a + knowledge of the world an' a bundle the size an' shape of a roll of + blankets. The two fam'lies goes squanderin' about among each other, free + an' fraternal, an' thar's never a cloud in the sky. + </p> + <p> + "At last the big feed begins. Son, you should have beheld them fool Osages + throw themse'fs upon the Crooked Claw's good cheer. It's a p'int of honour + to eat as much as you can; an' b'arin' that in mind the revellers mows + away about twenty pounds of beef to a buck—the squaws, not bein' so + ardent, quits out on mighty likely it's the thirteenth pound. Tom + Six-killer comes plenty clost to sacrificin' himse'f utter. + </p> + <p> + "This last I knows, for the next day I sees the medicine men givin' some + sufferer one of their aboriginal steam baths. They're on the bank of Bird + River. They've bent down three or four small saplin's for the framework of + a tent like, an' thar's piled on 'em blankets an' robes a foot deep so + she's plumb airtight. Thar's a fire goin' an' they're heatin' rocks, same + as Colonel Sterett tells about when they baptises his grandfather into the + church. When the rocks is red-hot they takes 'em, one by one, an' drops + 'em into a bucket of water to make her steam. Then they shoves this + impromptoo cauldron inside the little robe house where as I'm aware—for + I onderstands the signs from the start—thar's a sick buck quiled up + awaitin' relief. This yere invalid buck stays in thar twenty minutes. The + water boils an' bubbles an' the steam gets that abundant not to say urgent + she half lifts the robes an' blankets at the aiges to escape. The ailin' + buck in the sweat tent stays ontil he can't stay no more, an' then with a + yowl, he comes burstin' forth, a reek of sweat an' goes splashin' into the + coolin' waters of Bird River. It's the Six-killer; that weddin' feast + comes mighty near to downin' him—gives him a 'bad heart,' an' he + ondergoes the steam bath for relief. + </p> + <p> + "But we're strayed from that weddin'. Bein' now re-arrayed in fullest + feather the Saucy Willow is fetched into the ring an' receives a platter + with the rest. Then one of the bucks, lookin' about like he's amazed, + says: 'Wherever is the Jack Rabbit?' that bein' Bill's Osage title. + Crooked Claw shakes his head an' reckons most likely the Jack Rabbit's + rummagin' about loose some'ers, not knowin' enough to come in an' eat. A + brace of bucks an' a young squaw starts up an' figgers they'll search + about an' see if they can't round him up. They goes out an' thar's Bill + settin' off on a rock a quarter of a mile with his back to the camp an' + the footure. + </p> + <p> + "The two sharps an' the squaw herds Bill into camp an' stakes him out, + shoulder to shoulder, with the little Saucy Willow. Neither Bill nor the + little Saucy Willow su'gests by word, screech or glance that they saveys + either the game or the stakes, an' eats on, takin' no notice of themse'fs + or any of the gluttons who surrounds 'em. Both Bill an' the little Saucy + Willow looks that witless you-all would yearn to bat 'em one with the butt + of a mule whip if onfortoonately you're present to be exasperated by sech + exhibitions. At last, however, jest as the patience of the audience is + plumb played, both Bill an' the little Saucy Willow gives a start of + surprise. Which they're pretendin' to be startled to find they're feedin' + off the same dish. Thar you be; that makes 'em 'buck an' squaw'—'man + an' wife;' an' yereafter, in Osage circles they can print their kyards + 'Mister an' Missis Bill Connors,' while Bill draws an' spends the little + Saucy Willow's annooty on payment day instead of Strike Axe." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. When Tutt first saw Tucson. + </h2> + <p> + "An' speakin' of dooels," remarked the Old Cattleman, apropos of an + anecdote of the field of honour wherewith I regaled his fancy, "speakin' + of dooels, I reckons now the encounter Dave Tutt involves himse'f with + when he first sees Tucson takes onchallenged preecedence for utter + bloodlessness. She's shore the most lamb's-wool form of single combat to + which my notice is ever drawn. Dave enlightens us concernin' its details + himse'f, bein' incited tharunto by hearin' Texas Thompson relate about the + Austin shootin' match of that Deaf Smith. + </p> + <p> + "'Which this yere is 'way back yonder on the trail of time,' explains + Dave, 'an' I'm hardened a heap since then. I've jest come buttin' into + Tucson an' it's easy money I'm the tenderest an' most ontaught party that + ever wears store-moccasins. What I misses knowin' would make as husky a + library,—if it's printed down in books,—as ever lines up on + shelves. Also, I'm freighted to the limit with the tenderfoot's usual + outfit of misinformation. It's sad, yet troo! that as I casts my gaze + r'arward I identifies myse'f as the balmiest brand of shorthorn who ever + leaves his parents' shelterin' roof.' + </p> + <p> + "'All the same,' says Dan Boggs, plenty conceited, 'I'll gamble a hoss I'm + a bigger eediot when I quits Missouri to roam the cow country than ever + you-all can boast of bein' in your most drivelin' hour.' + </p> + <p> + "'Do they lock you up?' asks Dave. + </p> + <p> + "'No,' says Dan, 'they don't lock me up none, but——' + </p> + <p> + "'Then you lose,' insists Dave, mighty prompt. + </p> + <p> + "'But hold on,' says Dan; 'don't get your chips down so quick. As I starts + to explain, I ain't locked up; but it's because I'm in a camp like + Wolfville yere that ain't sunk to the level of no calaboose. But what + comes to be the same, I'm taken captive an' held as sech ontil the + roodiments of Western sense is done beat into me. It takes the yoonited + efforts of four of the soonest sharps that ever happens; an' final, they + succeeds to a p'int that I'm deemed cap'ble of goin' about alone.' + </p> + <p> + "'Well,' retorts Dave, 'I won't dispoote with you; an' even at that I + regyards your present attitoode as one of bluff. I thinks you're shore the + cunnin'est wolf in the territory, Dan, an' allers is. But, as I'm sayin', + when I first begins to infest Tucson, I'm so ignorant it's a stain on that + meetropolis. At this yere epock, Tucson ain't spraddled to its present + proud dimensions. A gent might have thrown the loop of a lariat about the + outfit an' drug it after him with a pony. No one, however, performs this + labour, as the camp is as petyoolant as a t'rant'ler an' any onauthorised + dalliance with its sensibilities would have led to vivid plays. Still, she + ain't big, Tucson ain't; an' I learns my way about from centre to suburbs + in the first ten minutes. + </p> + <p> + "'At the beginnin' I'm a heap timid. I suffers from the common eastern + theery an' looks on Arizona as a region where it's murder straight an' + lynchin' for a place. You-all may jedge from that how erroneous is my + idees. Then, as now, the distinguishin' feacher of Tucson existence is a + heavenly ca'm. Troo, thar's moments when the air nacherally fills up with + bullets like they're a passel of swallow-birds, an' they hums an' sings + their merry madrigals. However, these busy seasons don't set in so often + nor last so long but peaceful folks has ample chance to breathe. + </p> + <p> + "'Never does I b'ar witness to as many as seven contemporaneous remainders + but once; and then thar's cause. It's in a poker game; an' the barkeep + brings the dealer a cold deck onder a tray whereon he purveys the drinks. + Which the discovery of this yere solecism, as you-all well imagines, + arouses interest, earnest an' widespread like I deescribes. I counts up + when the smoke lifts an' finds that seven has sought eternal peace. + Commonly two is the number; three bein' quite a shipment. Shore, it's + speshul sickly when as many as seven quits out together! + </p> + <p> + "'Bein' timid an' ignorant I takes good advice. It's in the Oriental. + Thar's that old gray cimmaron hibernatin' about the bar whose name is + Jeffords. + </p> + <p> + "'"Be you-all conversant with that gun you packs?" asks Jeffords. + </p> + <p> + "'I feels the hot blush mountin' in my tender cheeks, but I concedes I + ain't. "Pard," I replies, "speakin' confidenshul an' between gent an' + gent, this yere weepon is plumb novel to me." + </p> + <p> + "'"Which I allows as much," he says, "from the egreegious way you fidges + with it. Now let me pass you-all a p'inter from the peaks of experience. + You caper back to the tavern an' take that weepon off. Or what's as well, + you pass it across to the barkeep. If you-all goes romancin' 'round with + hardware at your belt it's even money it'll get you beefed. Allers + remember while in Arizona that you'll never get plugged—onless by + inadvertence—as long as you wander about in onheeled innocence. No + gunless gent gets downed; sech is the onbreakable roole." + </p> + <p> + "'After that I goes guiltless of arms; I ain't hungerin' for immortality + abrupt. + </p> + <p> + "'Old Jeffords is shore right; in the Southwest if you aims to b'ar a + charmed life, never wear a six-shooter. This maxim goes anywhere this side + of the Mississippi; east of that mighty river it's the other way. + </p> + <p> + "'Bein' nimble-blooded in them days, I'm a heap arduous about the + dance-hall. I gets infatyooated with the good fellowship of that + hurdygurdy; an' even after I leaves Tucson an' is camped some miles away, + I saddles up every other evenin', rides in an', as says the poet, "shakes + ontirin' laig even into the wee small hours." + </p> + <p> + "'Right yere, gents,' an' Dave pauses like he's prounced on by a solemn + thought, 'I don't reckon I has to caution none of you-all not to go + repeatin' these mem'ries of gay days done an' gone, where my wife Tucson + Jennie cuts their trail. I ain't afraid of Jennie; she's a kind, troo + he'pmeet; but ever since that onfortunate entanglement with the English + towerist lady her suspicions sets up nervous in their blankets at the mere + mention of frivolities wherein she hears my name. I asks you, tharfore, + not to go sayin' things to feed her doubts. With Tucson Jennie, my first + business is to live down my past.' + </p> + <p> + "'You-all can bet,' says Texas Thompson, while his brow clouds, 'that I + learns enough while enjoyin' the advantages of livin' with my former wife + to make sech requests sooperfluous in my case. Speshully since if it ain't + for what the neighbours done tells the lady she'd never go ropin' 'round + for that divorce. No Dave; your secrets is plumb safe with a gent who's + suffered. + </p> + <p> + "'Which I saveys I'm safe with all of you,' says Dave, his confidence, + which the thoughts of Tucson Jennie sort o' stampedes, beginnin' to + return. 'But now an' then them gusts of apprehensions frequent with + married gents sweeps over me an' I feels weak. But comin' back to the + dance-hall: As I su'gests thar's many a serene hour I whiles away tharin. + Your days an' your <i>dinero</i> shore flows plenty swift in that temple + of merriment; an' chilled though I be with the stiff dignity of a wedded + middle age, if it ain't for my infant son, Enright Peets Tutt, to whom I'm + strivin' to set examples, I'd admire to prance out an' live ag'in them + halcyon hours; that's whatever! + </p> + <p> + "'Thar's quite a sprinklin' of the <i>elite</i> of Tucson in the + dance-hall the evenin' I has in mind. The bar is busy; while up an' down + each side sech refreshin' pastimes as farobank, monte an' roulette holds + prosperous sway. Thar's no quadrille goin' at the moment, an' a lady to + the r'ar is carollin' "Rosalie, the Prairie Flower." + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Fair as a lily bloomin' in May, + Sweeter than roses, bright as the day! + Everyone who knows her feels her gentle power, + Rosalie the Prairie Flower." +</pre> + <p> + "'On this yere o'casion I'm so far fortunate as to be five drinks ahead + an' tharfore would sooner listen to myse'f talk than to the warblin' of + the cantatrice. As it is, I'm conversin' with a gent who's standin' hard + by. + </p> + <p> + "'At my elbow is posted a shaggy an' forbiddin' outlaw whose name is Yuba + Tom, an' who's more harmonious than me. He wants to listen to "Rosalie the + Prairie Flower." Of a sudden, he w'irls about, plenty peevish. + </p> + <p> + "'Stick a period to that pow-wow," observes Yuba; "I wants to hear this + prima donna sing." + </p> + <p> + "'Bein' gala with the five libations, I turns on Yuba haughty. "If you're + sobbin' to hear this songstress," I says, "go for'ard an' camp down at her + feet. But don't come pawin' your way into no conversations with me. An' + don't hang up no bluff." + </p> + <p> + "'Which if you disturbs me further," retorts Yuba, "I'll turn loose for + shore an' crawl your hump a lot." + </p> + <p> + "'Them foolhardy sports," I replies, "who has yeretofore attempted that + enterprise sleeps in onknown graves; so don't you-all pester me, for the + outlook's dark." + </p> + <p> + "'It's now that Yuba,—who's a mighty cautious sport, forethoughtful + an' prone to look ahead,—regyards the talk as down to cases an' + makes a flash for his gun. It's concealed by his surtoot an' I ain't + noticed it none before. If I had, most likely I'd pitched the conversation + in a lower key. However, by this time, I'm quarrelsome as a badger; an' a + willin'ness for trouble subdooes an' sets its feet on my nacheral + cowardice an' holds her down.' + </p> + <p> + "'Dave, you-all makes me nervous,' says Boggs, with a flash of heat, + 'settin' thar lyin' about your timidity that a-way. You're about as + reluctant for trouble as a grizzly bar, an' you couldn't fool no gent yere + on that p'int for so much as one white chip.' + </p> + <p> + "'Jest the same,' says Dave, mighty dogmatic, 'I still asserts that in a + concealed, inborn fashion, I'm timid absoloote. If you has ever beheld me + stand up ag'in the iron it's because I'm 'shamed to quit. I'd wilt out + like a jack-rabbit if I ain't held by pride. + </p> + <p> + "'"You're plenty ready with that Colt's," I says to Yuba, an' my tones is + severe. "That's because you sees me weeponless. If I has a gun now, I'd + make you yell like a coyote." + </p> + <p> + "'"S'pose you ain't heeled," reemonstrates Yuba, "that don't give you no + license to stand thar aboosin' me. Be I to blame because your toilet ain't + complete? You go frame yourse'f up, an' I'll wait;" an' with that, this + Yuba takes his hand from his artillery. + </p> + <p> + "'Thar's a footile party who keeps the dancehall an' who signs the books + as Colonel Boone. He's called the "King of the Cowboys"; most likely in a + sperit of facetiousness since he's more like a deuce than a king. This + Boone's packin' a most excellent six-shooter loose in the waistband of his + laiggin's. Boone's passin' by as Yuba lets fly his taunts an' this piece + of ordnance is in easy reach. With one motion I secures it an' the moment + followin' the muzzle is pressin' ag'inst a white pearl button on Yuba's + bloo shirt. + </p> + <p> + "'"Bein' now equipped," I says, "this war-dance may proceed." + </p> + <p> + "'I'm that scared I fairly hankers for the privilege of howlin', but I + realises acootely that havin' come this far towards homicide I must needs + go through if Yuba crowds my hand. But he don't; he's forbearin' an' + stands silent an' still. Likewise, I sees his nose, yeretofore the colour + of a over-ripe violin, begin to turn sear an' gray. I recovers sperit at + this as I saveys I'm saved. Still I keeps the artillery on him. It's the + innocence of the gun that holds Yuba spellbound an' affects his nose, an' + I feels shore if I relaxes he'll be all over me like a baggage waggon.' + </p> + <p> + "'Which I should say so!' says Jack Moore, drawin' a deep breath. 'You + takes every chance, Dave, when you don't cut loose that time!' + </p> + <p> + "'When Boone beholds me,' says Dave, 'annex his gun he almost c'lapses + into a fit. He makes a backward leap that shows he ain't lived among + rattlesnakes in vain. Then he stretches his hand towards me an' Yuba, an' + says, "Don't shoot! Let's take a drink; it's on the house!" + </p> + <p> + "'Yuba, with his nose still a peaceful gray, turns from the gun an' sidles + for the bar; I follows along, thirsty, but alert. When we-all is + assembled, Boone makes a wailin' request for his six-shooter. + </p> + <p> + "'"Get his," I says, at the same time, animadvertin' at Yuba with the + muzzle. + </p> + <p> + "'Yuba passes his weepons over the bar an' I follows suit with Boone's. + Then we drinks with our eyes on each other in silent scorn. + </p> + <p> + "'"Which we-all will see about this later,' growls Yuba, as he leaves the + bar. + </p> + <p> + "'"Go as far as you like, old sport," I retorts, for this last edition, as + Colonel Sterett would term it, of Valley Tan makes me that brave I'm + miseratin' for a riot. + </p> + <p> + "'It's the next day before ever I'm firm enough, to come ag'in to Tucson. + This stage-wait in the tragedy is doo to fear excloosive. I hears how Yuba + is plumb bad; how he's got two notches on his stick; how he's filed the + sights off his gun; an' how in all reespects he's a murderer of merit an' + renown. Sech news makes me timid two ways: I'm afraid Yuba'll down me + some; an' then ag'in I'm afraid he's so popular I'll be lynched if I downs + him. Shore, that felon Yuba begins to assoome in my apprehensions the + stern teachers of a whipsaw. At last I'm preyed on to that degree I'm + desperate; an' I makes up my mind to invade Tucson, cross up with Yuba an' + let him come a runnin'. The nervousness of extreme yooth doubtless is what + goads me to this decision. + </p> + <p> + "'It's about second drink time in the afternoon when, havin' donned my + weepons, I rides into Tucson. After leavin' my pony at the corral, I turns + into the main street. It's scorchin' hot an' barrin' a dead burro thar's + hardly anybody in sight. Up in front of the Oriental, as luck has it, + stands Yuba and a party of doobious morals who slays hay for the gov'ment, + an' is addressed as Lon Gilette. As I swings into the causeway, Gilette + gets his eye on me an' straightway fades into the Oriental leavin' Yuba + alone in the street. This yere strikes me as mighty ominous; I feels the + beads of water come onder my hatband, an' begins to crowd my gun a leetle + for'ard on the belt. I'm walkin' up on the opp'site side from Yuba who + stands watchin' my approach with a serene mien. + </p> + <p> + "'"It's the ca'mness of the tiger crouchin' for a spring," thinks I. "'As + I arrives opp'site, Yuba stretches out his hand. "Come on over," he sings + out. + </p> + <p> + "'"Which he's assoomin' airs of friendship," I roominates, "to get me off + my gyard." + </p> + <p> + "'I starts across to Yuba. I'm watchin' like a lynx; an' I'm that + harrowed, if Yuba so much as sneezes or drops his hat or makes a r'arward + move of his hand, I'm doo to open on him. But he stands still as a hill + an' nothin' more menacin' than grins. As I comes clost he offers his hand. + It's prior to my shootin' quick an' ackerate with my left hand, so I don't + give Yuba my right, holdin' the same in reserve for emergencies an' in + case thar's a change of weather. But Yuba, who can see it's fear that + a-way, is too p'lite to make comments. He shakes my left hand with + well-bred enthoosiasm an' turns an' heads the way into the Oriental. + </p> + <p> + "'As we fronts the bar an' demands nosepaint Yuba gives up his arms; an' + full of a jocund lightheartedness as I realises that I ain't marked for + instant slaughter I likewise yields up mine. We then has four drinks in + happy an' successful alternation, an' next we seeks a table an' subsides + into seven-up. + </p> + <p> + "'"Then thar ain't goin' to be no dooel between us?" I says to Yuba. It's + at a moment when he's turned jack an' I figgers he'll be more soft an' + leenient. "It's to be a evenin' of friendly peace?" + </p> + <p> + "'"An' why not?" says Yuba. "I've shore took all the skelps that's comin' + to me; an' as for you-all, you're young an' my counsel is to never begin. + That pooerile spat we has don't count. I'm drinkin' at the time, an' I + don't reckon now you attaches importance to what a gent says when he's in + licker?" + </p> + <p> + "'"Not to what he says," I replies; "but I does to what he shoots. I looks + with gravity on the gun-plays of any gent, an' the drunker he is the more + ser'ous I regyards the eepisode." + </p> + <p> + "'"Well, she's a thing of the past now," explains Yuba, "an' this evenin' + you're as pop'lar with me as a demijohn at a camp-meetin'." + </p> + <p> + "'Both our bosoms so wells with joy, settin' thar as we do in a atmosphere + of onexpected yet perfect fraternalism an' complete peace, that Yuba an' + me drinks a whole lot. It gets so, final, I refooses to return to my own + camp; I won't be sep'rated from Yuba. When we can no longer drink, we + turns in at Yuba's wickeyup an' sleeps. The next mornin' we picks up the + work of reeconciliation where it slips from our tired hands the evenin' + before. I does intend to reepair to my camp when we rolls out; but after + the third conj'int drink both me an' Yuba sees so many reasons why it's a + fool play I gives up the idee utter. + </p> + <p> + "'Gents, it's no avail to pursoo me an' Yuba throughout them four feverish + days. We drifts from one drink-shop to the other, arm in arm, as peaceful + an' pleased a pair of sots as ever disturbs the better element. Which + we're the scandal of Tucson; we-all is that thickly amiable it's a insult + to other men. Thus ends my first dooel; a conflict as bloodless as she is + victorious. How long it would have took me an' Yuba to thoroughly cement + our friendships will never be known. At the finish, we-all is torn asunder + by the Tucson marshal an' I'm returned to my camp onder gyard. Me an' Yuba + before nor since never does wax that friendly with any other gent; we'd be + like brothers yet, only the Stranglers over to Shakespear seizes on pore + Yuba one mornin' about a hoss an' heads him for his home on high.'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. The Troubles of Dan Boggs. + </h2> + <p> + "This yere," remarked the Old Cattleman, at the heel of a half-hour + lecture on life and its philosophy, "this yere is a evenin' when they gets + to discussin' about luck. It's doorin' the progress of this dispoote when + Cherokee Hall allows that luck don't alternate none, first good an' then + bad, but travels in bunches like cattle or in flocks like birds. + 'Whichever way she comes,' says Cherokee, 'good or bad, luck avalanches + itse'f on a gent. That's straight!' goes on Cherokee. 'You bet! I speaks + from a voloominous experience an' a life that, whether up or down, white + or black, ain't been nothin' but luck. Which nacherally, bein' a kyard + sharp that a-way, I studies luck the same as Peets yere studies drugs; an' + my discov'ries teaches that luck is plumb gregar'ous. Like misery in that + proverb, luck loves company; it shore despises to be lonesome.' + </p> + <p> + "'Cherokee, I delights to hear you talk,' says Old Man Enright, as he + signs up Black Jack for the Valley Tan. 'Them eloocidations is meant to + stiffen a gent's nerve an' do him good. Shore; no one needs encouragement + nor has to train for a conflict with good luck; but it's when he's out + ag'inst the iron an' the bad luck's swoopin' an' stoopin' at him, beak an' + claw like forty hawks, that your remarks is doo to come to his aid an' + uplift his sperits some. An' as you says a moment back, thar's bound in + the long run to be a equilibr'um. The lower your bad luck, the taller your + good luck when it strikes camp. It's the same with the old Rockies, an' + wherever you goes it's ever a never-failin' case of the deeper the valley, + the higher the hill! + </p> + <p> + "'As is frequent with me,' says Dan Boggs, after we sets quiet a moment, + meanwhiles tastin' our nosepaint thoughtful—for these outbursts of + Cherokee's an' Enright's calls for consid'rations,—'as is frequent + with me,' says Dan, 'I reckons I'll string my chips with Cherokee. The + more ready since throughout my own checkered c'reer—an' I've done + most everything 'cept sing in the choir,—luck has ever happened + bunched like he asserts. Which I gets notice of these pecooliarities of + fortune early. While I'm simply doin' nothin' to provoke it, a gust of bad + luck prounces on me an' thwarts me in a noble ambition, rooins my social + standin' an busts two of my nigh ribs all in one week. + </p> + <p> + "'I'm a colt at the time, an' jest about big enough to break. My folks is + livin' in Missouri over back of the Sni-a-bar Hills. By nacher I'm a heap + moosical; so I ups—givin' that genius for harmony expression—an' + yoonites myse'f with the "Sni-a-bar Silver Cornet Band." Old Hickey is + leader, an' he puts me in to play the snare drum, the same bein' the + second rung on the ladder of moosical fame, an' one rung above the big + drum. Old Hickey su'gests that I start with the snare drum an' work up. + Gents, you-all should have heard me with that instrooment! I'd shore light + into her like a storm of hail! + </p> + <p> + "'For a spell the "Sni-a-bar Silver Cornet Band" used to play in the + woods. This yere Sni-a-bar commoonity is a mighty nervous neighbourhood, + an' thar's folks whose word is above reproach who sends us notice they'll + shoot us up if we don't; so at first we practises in the woods. But as + time goes on we improves an' plays well enough so we don't scare children; + an' then the Sni-a-bar people consents to let us play now an' then along + the road. All of us virchewosoes is locoed to do good work, so that + Sni-a-bar would get reeconciled, an' recognise us as a commoonal factor. + </p> + <p> + "'Well do I recall the day of our first public appearance. It's at a + political meetin' an' everything, so far as we're concerned at least, + depends on the impression we-all makes. If we goes to a balk or a + break-down, the "Sni-a-bar Silver Cornet Band's" got to go back an' play + in the woods. + </p> + <p> + "'It's not needed that I tells you gents, how we-all is on aige. Old + Hickey gets so perturbed he shifts me onto the big drum; an' Catfish + Edwards, yeretofore custodian of that instrooment, is given the snare. + This play comes mighty clost to breakin' my heart; for I'm ambitious, an' + it galls my soul to see myse'f goin' back'ards that a-way. It's the + beginnin' of my bad luck, too. Thar's no chance to duck the play, however, + as old Hickey's word is law, so I sadly buckles on the giant drum. + </p> + <p> + "'We're jest turnin' into the picnic ground where this meetin's bein' held + an' I've got thoughts of nothin' but my art—as we moosicians says—an' + elevatin' the local opinion of an' concernin' the meelodious merits of the + band. We're playin' "Number Eighteen" at the time, an' I've got my eagle + eye on the paper that tells me when to welt her; an' I'm shorely + leatherin' away to beat a ace-flush. + </p> + <p> + "'Bein' I'm new to the big drum, an' onduly eager to succeed, I've got all + my eyes picketed on the notes. It would have been as well if I'd reeserved + at least one for scenery. But I don't; an' so it befalls that when we-all + is in the very heart of the toone, an' at what it's no exaggeration to + call a crisis in our destinies, I walks straddle of a stump. An' sech is + my fatal momentum that the drum rolls up on the stump, an' I rolls up on + the drum. That's the finish; next day the Silver Cornet Band by edict of + the Sni-a-bar pop'lace is re-exiled to them woods. But I don't go; old + Hickey excloodes me, an' my hopes of moosical eminence rots down right + thar. + </p> + <p> + "'It's mebby two days later when I'm over by the postoffice gettin' the + weekly paper for my old gent. Thar's goin' to be a Gander-Pullin' by + torchlight that evenin' over to Hickman's Mills with a dance at the heel + of the hunt. But I ain't allowin' to be present none. I'm too deeply + chagrined about my failure with that big drum; an' then ag'in, I'm scared + to ask a girl to go. You-all most likely has missed noticin' it a heap—for + I frequent forces myse'f to be gala an' festive in company—but jest + the same, deep down onder my belt, I'm bashful. An' when I'm younger I'm + worse. I'm bashful speshul of girls; for I soon discovers that it's easier + to face a gun than a girl, an' the glance of her eye is more terrifyin' + than the glimmer of a bowie. That's the way I feels. It's a fact; I + remembers a time when my mother, gettin' plumb desp'rate over my + hoomility, offers me a runnin' hoss if I'd go co't a girl; on which + o'casion I feebly urges that I'd rather walk. + </p> + <p> + "'On the evenin' of this yer dance an' Gander-Pullin' I'm pirootin' about + the Center when I meets up with Jule James;—Jule bein' the village + belle. "Goin' to the dance?" says Jule. "No," says I. "Why ever don't you + go?" asks Jule. "Thar ain't no girl weak-minded enough to go with me," I + replies; "I makes a bid for two or three but gets the mitten." This yere + last is a bluff. "Which I reckons now," says Jule, givin' me a look, "if + you'd asked me, I'd been fool enough to go." Of course, with that I'm + treed; I couldn't flicker, so I allows that if Jule'll caper back to the + house with me I'll take her yet. + </p> + <p> + "'We-all gets back to my old gent's an' I proceeds to hitch up a Dobbin + hoss we has to a side-bar buggy. It's dark by now, an' we don't go to the + house nor indulge in any ranikaboo uproar about it, as I figgers it's + better not to notify the folks. Not that they'd be out to put the kybosh + on this enterprize; but they're powerful fond of talk my folks is, an' + their long suit is never wantin' you to do whatever you're out to + execoote. Wherefore, as I ain't got no time for a j'int debate with my + fam'ly over technicalities I puts Jule into the side-bar where it's + standin' in the dark onder a shed; an' then, hookin' up old Dobbin a heap + surreptitious, I gathers the reins an' we goes softly p'intin' forth for + Hickman's. + </p> + <p> + "'As we-all is sailin' thoughtlessly along the trail, Dobbin ups an' + bolts. Sech flights is onpreeceedented in the case of Dobbin—who's + that sedate he's jest alive—an' I'm shore amazed; but I yanks him up + an' starts anew. It's twenty rods when Dobbin bolts ag'in. This time I + hears a flutter, an' reaches 'round Jule some to see if her petticoats is + whippin' the wheel. They ain't; but Jule—who esteems said gesture in + the nacher of a caress—seemin' to favour the idee, I lets my arm + stay 'round. A moment later an' this yere villain Dobbin bolts the third + time, an' as I've sort o' got my one arm tangled up with Jule, he lams + into a oak tree. + </p> + <p> + "'It's then, when we're plumb to a halt, I does hear a flutter. At that I + gets down to investigate. Gents, you-all may onderstand my horror when I + finds 'leven of my shawl-neck game chickens roostin' on that side-bar's + reach! They're thar when we pulls out. They've retired from the world an' + its cares for the night an', in our ignorance of them chicken's domestic + arrangements, we blindly takes 'em with us. Now an' then, as we goes + rackin' along, one of 'em gets jolted off. Then he'd hang by his chin an' + beat his wings; an' it's these frenzied efforts he makes to stay with the + game that evolves them alarmin' flutterin's. + </p> + <p> + "'Jule—who don't own chickens an' who ain't no patron of cockfights + neither—is for settin' the shawl-necks on the fence an' pickin' 'em + up as we trails back from the Gander-Pullin'. + </p> + <p> + "'"As long as it's dark," says Jule, "they'll stay planted; an' we rounds + 'em up on our return." + </p> + <p> + "'But I ain't that optimistic. I knows these chickens an' they ain't so + somnolent as all that. Besides it's a cinch that a mink or a fox comes + squanderin' 'round an' takes 'em in like gooseberries. 'Leven shawl-necks! + Why, it would be a pick-up for a fox! + </p> + <p> + "'"You're a fine Injun to take a girl to a dance!" says Jule at last, an' + she's full of scorn. + </p> + <p> + "'"Injun or no Injun," I retorts a heap sullen, "thar ain't no + Gander-Pullin' goin' to jestify me in abandonin' my 'leven shawl-necks an' + me with a main to fight next month over on the Little Bloo!" + </p> + <p> + "'At that I corrals the chickens an' imprisons 'em in the r'ar of the + side-bar an' goes a-weavin' back for camp, an' I picks up three more + shawl-necks where they sets battin' their he'pless eyes in the road. + </p> + <p> + "'But I shore hears Jule's views of me as a beau! They're hot enough to + fry meat! Moreover, Jule tells all Sni-a-bar an' I'm at once a scoff an' + jeer from the Kaw to the Gasconade. Jule's old pap washes out his rifle + an' signs a pledge to plug me if ever ag'in I puts my hand on his front + gate. As I su'gests, it rooins my social c'reer in Sni-a-bar. + </p> + <p> + "'While I'm ground like a toad that a-way beneath the harrow of this + double setback of the drum an' Jule, thar's a circus shows up an' pitches + its merry tent in Sni-a-bar. I knows this caravan of yore—for I'm a + master-hand for shows in my yooth an' allers goes—an' bein' by + virchoo of my troubles ready to plunge into dissipation's mad an' swirlin' + midst, I sa'nters down the moment the waggons shows up; an' after that, + while that circus stays, folks who wants to see me, day or night, has to + come to the show. + </p> + <p> + "'The outfit is one of them little old jim-crow shows that charges + two-bits an' stays a month; an' by the end of the first day, me an' the + clown gets wropped up like brothers; which I'm like one of the fam'iy! I + fetches water an' he'ps rub hosses an', speakin' gen'ral, does more nigger + work than I ever crosses up with prior endoorin' my entire life. But + knowin' the clown pays for all; sech trivial considerations as pullin' on + tent ropes an' spreadin' sawdust disappears before the honour of his + a'quaintance. It's my knowin' the clown that leads to disaster. + </p> + <p> + "'This merrymaker, who's a "jocund wight" as Colonel Sterett says, gets a + heap drunk one evenin' 'an' sleeps out in the rain, an' he awakes as + hoarse as bull-frogs. He ain't able to sing his song in the ring. It's + jest before they begins. + </p> + <p> + "'"Dan," he croaks, plenty dejected, "I wish you'd clown up an' go in an' + sing that song." + </p> + <p> + "'This cantata he alloodes to, is easy; it's "Roll Jurdan, Roll," an' I + hears it so much at nigger camp meetin's an' sim'lar distractions, that I + carols it in my sleep. As the clown throws out his bluff I considers + awhile some ser'ous. I feels like mebby I've cut the trail of a cunnin' + idee. When Jule an' old Hickey an' the balance of them Sni-a-bar outcasts + sees me in a clown's yooniform, tyrannisin' about, singin' songs an' + leadin' up the war-jig gen'ral, they'll regret the opinions they so freely + expresses an' take to standin' about, hopin' I'll bow. They'll regyard + knowin' me as a boon. With that, I tells the clown to be of good cheer. + I'll prance in an' render that lay an' his hoarseness won't prove no + setback to the gaiety of nations. + </p> + <p> + "'But I don't sing after all; an' I don't pile up Jule an' old Hickey an' + the sports of Sni-a-bar neither in any all 'round jumble of amazement at + my genius. + </p> + <p> + "'"Dan," says the ring master when we're in the dressin' room, "when the + leapin' begins, you-all go on with the others an' do a somersault or two?" + </p> + <p> + "'"Shore!" I says. + </p> + <p> + "'I feels as confidant as a kangaroo! Which I never does try it none; but + I supposes that all you has to do is hit the springboard an' let the + springboard do the rest. That's where I'm barkin' at a knot! + </p> + <p> + "'This yere leapin' comes first on the bill. I ain't been in the ring yet; + the tumblin' business is where I makes my deeboo. I've got on a white + clown soote with big red spots, an' my face is all flour. I'm as certain + of my comin' pop'larity as a wet dog. I shore allows that when Jule an' + old Hickey observes my graceful agility an' then hears me warble "Roll + Jurdan, Roll," I'll make 'em hang their heads. + </p> + <p> + "'The tumblin' is about to begin; the band's playin', an' all us athletes + is ranged Injun file along a plank down which we're to run. I'm the last + chicken on the roost. + </p> + <p> + "'Even unto this day it's a subject of contention in circus cirkles as to + where I hits that springboard. Some claims I hits her too high up; an' + some says too low; for myse'f, I concedes I'm ignorant on the p'int. I + flies down the plank like a antelope! I hears the snarl of the drums! I + jumps an' strikes the springboard! + </p> + <p> + "'It's at this juncture things goes queer. To my wonder I don't turn no + flip-flap, but performs like a draw-shot in billiards. I plants my + moccasins on the springboard; an' then instead of goin' on an' over a + cayouse who's standin' thar awaitin' sech events, I shoots back'ard about + fifteen foot an' lands in a ondistinguishable heap. An' as I strikes a + plank it smashes a brace of my ribs. + </p> + <p> + "'For a second I'm blurred in my intellects. Then I recovers; an' as I'm + bein' herded back into the dressin' room by the fosterin' hands of the + ring master an' my pard, the clown, over in the audience I hears Jule's + silvery laugh an' her old pap allowin' he'd give a hoss if I'd only broke + my neck. Also, I catches a remark of old Hickey; "Which that Boggs boy + allers was a ediot!" says old Hickey.'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. Bowlegs and Major Ben. + </h2> + <p> + "Which this yere Major Ben," remarked the Old Cattleman, "taken in + conjunction with his bosom pard, Billy Bowlaigs, frames up the only + casooalty which gets inaug'rated in Wolfville." + </p> + <p> + "What!" I interjected; "don't you consider the divers killings,—the + death of the Stinging Lizard and the Dismissal of Silver Phil, to say + nothing of the taking off of the Man from Red Dog—don't you, I say, + consider such bloody matters casualties?" + </p> + <p> + "No, sir," retorted my friend, emitting the while sundry stubborn puffs of + smoke, "no, sir; I regyards them as results. Tharfore, I reiterates that + this yere Major Ben an' Bowlaigs accomplishes between 'em the only troo + casooalty whereof Wolfville has a record." + </p> + <p> + At this he paused and surveyed me with an eye of challenge; after a bit, + perceiving that I proposed no further contradiction, he went on: + </p> + <p> + "This Billy Bowlaigs at first is a cub b'ar—a black cub b'ar: an' + when he grows up to manhood, so to speak, he's as big, an' mighty near as + strong physical, as Dan Boggs. Nacherally, however, Dan lays over Bowlaigs + mental like a ace-full. + </p> + <p> + "It's Dave Tutt who makes Bowlaigs captive; Dave rounds Bowlaigs up in his + infancy one time when he's pesterin' about over in the foothills of the + Floridas lookin' for blacktail deer. Dave meets up with Bowlaigs an' the + latter's mother who's out, evident, on a scout for grub. Bowlaig's mother + has jest upturned a rotten pine-log to give little Bowlaigs a chance to + rustle some of these yere egreegious white worms which looks like bald + catapillars, that a-way, when all at once around a p'int of rocks Dave + heaves in view. This parent of Bowlaigs is as besotted about her son as + many hooman mothers; for while Bowlaigs stands almost as high as she does + an' weighs clost onto two hundred pounds, the mother b'ar still has the + idee tangled up in her intelligence that Bowlaigs is that small an' + he'pless, day-old kittens is se'f-sustainin' citizens by compar'son to + him. Actin' on these yere errors, Bowlaig's mother the moment she glimpses + Dave grabs young Bowlaigs by the scruff of the neck an' goes caperin' off + up hill with him. An' to give that parent b'ar full credit, she's gettin' + along all right an' conductin' herse'f as though Bowlaigs don't heft no + more than one of them gooseha'r pillows, when, accidental, she bats pore + Bowlaigs ag'in the bole of a tree—him hangin' outen her mouth about + three foot—an' while the collision shakes that monarch of the forest + some, Bowlaigs gets knocked free of her grip an' goes rollin' down the + mountain-side ag'in like a sack of bran. It puts quite a crimp in + Bowlaigs. The mother b'ar, full of s'licitoode to save her offspring + turns, an' charges Dave; tharupon Dave downs her, an' young Bowlaigs + becomes a orphan an' a pris'ner on the spot. + </p> + <p> + "Followin' the demise of Bowlaig's mother, Dave sort o' feels reesponsible + for the cub's bringin' up an' he ties him hand an' foot, an' after peelin' + the pelt from the old mother b'ar, packs the entire outfit into camp. + Dave's pony protests with green eyes ag'in carryin' sech a freight, but + Dave has his way as he usually does with everything except Tucson Jennie. + </p> + <p> + "At first Dave allows he'll let Bowlaigs live with him a whole lot an' + keep him ontil he grows up, an' construct a pet of him. But as I more than + once makes plain, Dave proposes but Tucson Jennie disposes; an' so it + befalls that on the third day after the cub takes up his residence with + her an' Dave, Jennie arms herse'f with a broom an' harasses the + onfortunate Bowlaigs from her wickeyup. Jennie declar's that she discovers + Bowlaigs organisin' to devour her child Enright Peets Tutt, who's at that + epock comin' three the next spring round-up. + </p> + <p> + "'I could read it in that Bowlaigs b'ar's eyes,' says Jennie, 'an' it's + mighty lucky a parent's faculties is plumb keen. If I hadn't got in on the + play with my broom, you can bet that inordinate Bowlaigs would have done + eat little Enright Peets all up. + </p> + <p> + "Shore, no one credits these yere apprehensions of Jennie's; Bowlaigs + would no more have chewed up Enright Peets than he'd played table-stakes + with him; but a fond mother's fears once stampeded is not to be headed off + or ca'med, an' Bowlaigs has to shift his camp a heap. + </p> + <p> + "Bowlaigs takes up his abode on the heels of him bein' run out by Tucson + Jennie, over to the corral; that is, he bunks in thar temp'rary at least. + An' he shore grows amazin', an' enlarges doorin' the next three months to + sech a degree that when he stands up to the counter in the Red Light, + acceptin' of some proffered drink, Bowlaigs comes clost to bein' as tall + as folks. He early learns throughout his wakeful moments—what I'd + deescribe as his business hours—to make the Red Light a hang-out; + it's the nosepaint he's hankerin' after, for in no time at all Bowlaigs + accoomulates a appetite for rum that's a fa'r match for that of either + Huggins or Old Monte, an' them two sots is for long known as far west as + the Colorado an' as far no'th as the Needles as the offishul drunkards of + Arizona. No; Bowlaigs ain't equal to pourin' down the raw nosepaint; but + Black Jack humours his weakness an' Bowlaigs is wont to take off his + libations about two parts water to one of whiskey an' a lump of sugar in + the bottom, outen one of these big tumbler glasses; meanwhiles standin' at + the bar an' holdin' the glass between his two paws an' all as ackerate an' + steady as the most talented inebriate. + </p> + <p> + "'An' Bowlaigs has this distinction,' says Black Jack, alloodin' to the + sugar an' water; 'he's shore the only gent for whom I so far onbends from + reg'lar rools as to mix drinks.' + </p> + <p> + "Existence goes flowin' onward like some glad sweet song for Bowlaigs for + mighty likely it's two months an' nothin' remarkable eventuates. He camps + in over to the corral, an' except that new ponies, who ain't onto + Bowlaigs, commonly has heart-failure at the sight of him, he don't found + no disturbances nor get in anybody's way. Throughout his wakin' hours, as + I su'gests former, Bowlaigs ha'nts about the Red Light, layin' guileful + an' cunnin' for invites to drink; an' he execootes besides small + excursions to the O.K. Restauraw for chuck, with now an' then a brief + journey to the Post Office or the New York store. These visits of Bowlaigs + to the last two places, both because he don't get no letters at the post + office an' don't demand no clothes at the store, I attribootes to motives + of morbid cur'osity, that a-way. + </p> + <p> + "The first real trouble that meets up with Bowlaigs—who's got to be + a y'ar old by now—since Jennie fights the dooel with him with that + broom, overtakes him at the O.K. Restauraw. Missis Rucker for one thing + ain't over fond of Bowlaigs, allegin' as he grows older day by day he + looks more an' more like Rucker. Of course, sech views is figments as much + as the alarms of Tucson Jennie about Bowlaigs meditatin' gettin' away with + little Enright Peets; but Missis Rucker, in spite of whatever we gent + folks can say in Bowlaigs's behalf, believes firm in her own slanders. She + asserts that Bowlaigs as he onfolds looks like Rucker; an' for her at + least that settles the subject an' she assoomes towards Bowlaigs + attitoodes which, would perhaps have been proper had her charge been troo. + </p> + <p> + "Still, I'll say for that most esteemable lady, that Missis Rucker never + lays for Bowlaigs or assaults him ontil one afternoon when he catches the + dinin'-room deserted an' off its gyard an' goes romancin' over, cat-foot + an' surreptitious, an' cleans up the tables of what chuck has been placed + thar in antic'pation of supper. The first news Missis Rucker has of the + raid is when Bowlaigs gets a half-hitch on the tablecloth an' winds up his + play by yankin' the entire outfit of spoons, tin plates an' crockery off + onto the floor. It's then Missis Rucker sallies from the kitchen an' puts + Bowlaigs to flight. + </p> + <p> + "Bowlaigs, who's plumb scared, comes lumberin' over to the Red Light an' + puts himse'f onder our protection. Enright squar's it for him; for when + Missis Rucker appears subsequent with a Winchester an' a knife an' gives + it out cold she's goin' to get Bowlaig's hide an' tallow an' sell 'em to + pay even for that dinin'-room desolation of which he's the architect, + Enright counts up the damage an' pays over twenty-three dollars in full + settlement. Does Bowlaigs know it? You can gamble the limit he knows it; + for all the time Missis Rucker is prancin' about the Red Light denouncin' + him, he secretes himse'f, shiverin', behind the bar; an' when that lady + withdraws, mollified an' subdooed by the money, he creeps out, Bowlaigs + does, an' cries an' licks Enright's hand. Oh, he's a mighty appreciative + b'ar, pore Bowlaigs is; but his nerves is that onstrung by the perils he + passes through with Missis Rucker it takes two big drinks to recover his + sperits an' make him feel like the same b'ar. It's Texas Thompson who buys + the drinks: + </p> + <p> + "'For I, of all gents, Bowlaigs,' says Texas, as he invites the foogitive + to the bar, 'onderstands what you-all's been through. It may be + imagination, but jest the same thar's them times when Missis Rucker goes + on the warpath when she reminds me a lot of my divorced Laredo wife.' With + that Texas pours a couple of hookers of Willow Run into Bowlaigs, an' the + latter is a heap cheered an' his pulse declines to normal. + </p> + <p> + "It's rum, however, which final is the deestruction of Bowlaigs, same as + it is of plenty of other good people who would have else lived in honour + an' died respected an' been tearfully planted in manner an' form to do 'em + proud. + </p> + <p> + "Excloosive of that casooalty which marks his wind-up, an' which he + combines with Major Ben to commit, thar's but one action of Bowlaigs a + enemy might call a crime. He does prounce on a mail bag one evenin' when + the post-master ain't lookin', an' shore rends an' worrits them letters + scand'lous. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, Bowlaigs gets arrested, an' the Stranglers sort o' convenes informal + to consider it. I allers remembers that session of the Stranglers on + account of Doc Peets an' Colonel William Greene Sterett entertain' + opp'site views an' the awful language they indulges in as they expresses + an' sets 'em forth. + </p> + <p> + "'Which I claims that this Bowlaigs b'ar,' says Peets, combatin' a + suggestion of Dan Boggs who's sympathisin' with an' urges that Bowlaigs is + 'ignorant of law an' tharfore innocent of offence,' 'which I claims that + this Bowlaig b'ar is guilty of rustlin' the mails an' must an' should be + hanged. His ignorance is no defences, for don't each gent present know of + that aphorism of the law, <i>Ignoratis legia non excusat</i>!' + </p> + <p> + "Dan, nacherally, is enable to combat sech profound bluffs as this, an' + I'm free to confess if it ain't for Colonel Sterett buttin' in with more + Latin, the same bein' of equal cogency with that of Peet's, the footure + would have turned plenty dark an' doobious for Bowlaigs. As Dan sinks back + speechless an' played from Peet's shot, the Colonel, who bein' eddicated + like Peets to a feather aige is ondismayed an' cool, comes to the rescoo. + </p> + <p> + "'That law proverb you quotes, Doc,' says the Colonel, 'is dead c'rrect, + an' if argyment was to pitch its last camp thar, your deductions that this + benighted Bowlaigs must swing, would be ondeniable. But thar's a element + lackin' in this affair without which no offence is feasible. The question + is,—an' I slams it at you, Doc, as a thoughtful eddicated sharp—does + this yere Bowlaigs open them letters an' bust into that mail bag <i>causa + lucrae</i>? I puts this query up to you-all, Doc, for answer. It's obv'ous + that Bowlaigs ain't got no notion of money bein' in them missives an' + tharfore he couldn't have been moved by no thoughts of gain. Wherefore I + asserts that the deed is not done <i>causa lucrae</i>, an' that the case + ag'in this he'pless Bowlaigs falls to the ground.' + </p> + <p> + "Followin' this yere collision of the classics between two sech scientists + as Peets an' the Colonel, we-all can be considered as hangin' mighty + anxious on what reply Doc Peets is goin' to make. But after some thought, + Peets agrees with the Colonel. He admits that this <i>causa lucrae</i> is + a bet he overlooks, an' that now the Colonel draws his attention to it, + he's bound to say he believes the Colonel to be right, an' that Bowlaigs + should be made a free onfettered b'ar ag'in. We breathes easier at this, + for the tension has been great, an' Dan himse'f is that relieved he comes + a heap clost to sheddin' tears. The trial closes with the customary + drinks; Bowlaigs gettin' his forty drops with the rest, on the hocks of + which he signalises his reestoration to his rights an' freedom as a + citizen by quilin' up in his corner an' goin' to sleep. + </p> + <p> + "But the end is on its lowerin' way for Bowlaigs. Thar's a senile party + who's packed his blankets into camp an' who's called 'Major Ben.' The + Major, so the whisper goes, used to be quartermaster over to Fort Craig or + Fort Apache, or mebby now it's Fort Cummings or some'ers; an' he gets + himse'f dismissed for makin' away with the bank-roll. Be that as it may, + the Major's plenty drunk an' military while he lasts among us; an' he + likewise has <i>dinero</i> for whatever nosepaint an' food an' farobank he + sees fit to go ag'inst. From the jump the Major makes up to Bowlaigs an' + the two become pards. The Major allows he likes Bowlaigs because he can't + talk. + </p> + <p> + "'Which if all my friends,' says the Major, no doubt alloodin' to them + witnesses ag'in him when he's cashiered, 'couldn't have talked no more + than Bowlaigs, I'd been happy yet.' + </p> + <p> + "The Major's got a diminyootive wickeyup out to the r'ar of the corral, + an' him an' Bowlaigs resides tharin. This habitat of the Major an' + Bowlaigs ain't much bigger than a seegyar box; it's only eight foot by + ten, is made of barn-boards an' has a canvas roof. That's the kind of + ranch Bowlaigs an' the Major calls 'home'; the latter spreadin' his + blankets on one side while Bowlaigs sleeps on t'other on the board floor, + needin' no blankets, havin' advantage over the Major seein' he's got fur. + </p> + <p> + "The dispoote between Bowlaigs an' the Major which results in both of 'em + cashin' in, gets started erroneous. The Major—who's sometimes too + indolent an' sometimes too drunk to make the play himse'f—instructs + Bowlaig how to go over to the Red Light an' fetch a bottle of rum. The + Major would chuck a silver dollar in a little basket, an' Bowlaigs would + take it in his mouth same as you-all has seen dogs, an' report with the + layout to Black Jack. That gent would make the shift, bottle for dollar, + an' Bowlaigs would reepair back ag'in to the Major, when they'd both tank + up ecstatic. + </p> + <p> + "One mornin' after Bowlaigs an' the Major's been campin' together about + four months, they wakes up mighty jaded. They've had a onusual spree the + evenin' prior an' they feels like a couple of sore-head dogs. The Major + who needs a drink to line up for the day, gropes about in his blankets, + gets a dollar, pitches it into the basket an' requests Bowlaigs to caper + over for the Willow Run. Bowlaigs is nothin' loth; but as he's about to + pick up the basket, he observes that the dollar has done bounced out an' + fell through a crack in the floor. Bowlaigs sees it through the same crack + where it's layin' shinin' onder the house. + </p> + <p> + "Now this yere Bowlaigs is a mighty sagacious b'ar, also froogal, an' so + he goes wallowin' forth plenty prompt to recover the dollar. The Major, + who's ignorant of what's happened, still lays thar groanin' in his + blankets, feelin' like a loser an' nursin' his remorse. + </p> + <p> + "The first p'inter the Major gets of a new deal in his destinies is a + grand crash as the entire teepee upheaves an' goes over, kerwallop! on its + side, hurlin' the Major out through the canvas. It's the thoughtless + Bowlaigs does it. + </p> + <p> + "When Bowlaigs gets outside, he finds he can't crawl onder the teepee + none, seein' it's settin' too clost to the ground; an' tharupon, bein' a + one-ideed b'ar, he sort o' runs his right arm in beneath that edifice an' + up-ends the entire shebang, same as his old mother would a log when she's + grub-huntin' in the hills. Bowlaigs is pickin' up the dollar when the + Major comes swarmin' 'round the ruins of his outfit, a bowie in his hand, + an' him fairly locoed with rage. + </p> + <p> + "Shore, thar's a fight, an' the Major gets the knife plumb to Bowlaigs's + honest heart with the first motion. But Bowlaigs quits game; he turns with + a warwhoop an' confers on the Major a swat that would have broke the back + of a bronco; an' then he dies with his teeth in the Major's neck. + </p> + <p> + "The Major only lives a half hour after we gets thar. An' it's to his + credit that he makes a statement exoneratin' Bowlaigs. 'I don't want + you-all gents,' says the Major, 'to go deemin' hard of this innocent b'ar, + for whatever fault thar is, is mine. Since Texas Thompson picks up that + dollar, this thing is made plain. What I takes for gratooitous wickedness + on Bowlaigs' part is nothin' but his efforts to execoote my desires. Pore + Bowlaigs! it embitters my last moments as I pictures what must have been + his opinions of me when I lams loose at him with that knife! Bury us in + one grave, gents; it'll save trouble an' show besides that thar's no hard + feelin's between me an' Bowlaigs over what—an' give it the worst + name—ain't nothin' but a onfortunate mistake.'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. Toad Allen's Elopement. + </h2> + <p> + "Four days after that pinfeather person," remarked the Old Cattleman, + while refilling his pipe, "four days after that pinfeather person gains + Old Man Enright's consent to make use of Wolfville as a pivotal p'int in a + elopement, him an' his loved one comes bulgin' into camp. They floats over + in one of these yere mountain waggons, what some folks calls a + 'buckboard'; the pinfeather person's drivin'. Between him an' his intended—all + three settin' on the one seat—perches a preacher gent, who it's + plain from the look in his eyes is held in a sort o' captivity that a-way. + What nacherally bolsters up this theory is that the maiden's got a + six-shooter in her lap. + </p> + <p> + "'Which if thar's a wearied hectored gent in Arizona,' observes the + pinfeather party, as he descends outen the buckboard at the corral an' + tosses the reins to a hoss-hustler, 'you-all can come weavin' up an' + chance a yellow stack that I'm shore that gent.' + </p> + <p> + "The preacher sharp, who's about as young an' new as the pinfeather party, + looks like he yoonites with him in them views. As they onload themse'fs, + the pinfeather person waves his hand to where we-all's gathered to welcome + 'em, an' says by way of introduction: + </p> + <p> + "'Gents, yere's Abby; or as this Bible sport will say later in the + cer'mony, Abigail Glegg.' + </p> + <p> + "Of course, we, who represents the Wolfville public, comports ourse'fs as + becomes gents of dignity, an' after takin' off our sombreros, plumb + p'lite, Enright su'gests the O.K. Restauraw as a base of op'rations. + </p> + <p> + "'Don't you-all reckon,' says Enright to the pinfeather party, 'that + pendin' hostilities, Abby had better go over to Missis Rucker's? Thar she + gets combs an' breshes an' goes over her make-up an' straightens out her + game.' + </p> + <p> + "The pinfeather party allows this yere is a excellent notion, only him an' + Abby don't seem cl'ar as to what oughter be done about the preacher sharp. + </p> + <p> + "'You see, he don't want to come,' explains the pinfeather party, 'an' + it's cost me an' Abby a heap of trouble to round him up. I ain't none + shore but he seizes on the first chance to go stampedin'; an' without him + these rites we-all is bankin' on would cripple down.' + </p> + <p> + "'No, friends,' says the preacher sharp; 'I will promise to abide by you + an' embrace no openin' to escape. Since I'm here I will yoonite you-all as + you wish; the more readily because I trusts that as man an' wife you'll + prove a mootual restraint one upon the other; an' also for that I deems + you both in your single-footed capac'ty as a threat to the commoonity. + Fear not; prepare yourse'fs an' I'll bring you together in the happy bonds + of matrimony at the drop of the hat.' + </p> + <p> + "'You notes, Dan,' says Texas Thompson, who's off to one side with Dan + Boggs, 'you notes he talks like his heart's resentful. Them culprits has + r'iled him up; an' now he allows that the short cut to play even is to + marry 'em as they deserves. Which if you-all knows that former wife of + mine, Dan, you'll appreciate what I says.' + </p> + <p> + "Even after the preacher sharp gives his p'role, Abby acts plenty + doobious. She ain't shore it's wise to throw him loose. It's Doc Peets who + reasshores her. + </p> + <p> + "'My dear young lady,' says Peets, at the same time bowin' to the ground, + 'you may trust this maverick with me. I'll pledge my word to prodooce him + at the moment when he's called for to make these nuptials win.' + </p> + <p> + "'Which I'm aheap obleeged to you, Mister,' says Abby to Peets, sizing him + up approvin'; 'an' now that I'm convinced thar's no chance of my footure + sufferin' from any absenteeism on the part of this pastor, I reckons I + better go over, like you-all hints, an' take a look or two in the glass. + It ain't goin' to consoome a moment, however,—this yere titivation I + plans; an' followin' said improvements we-all better pull off this play + some prompt. My paw,—old Ben Glegg,—is on our trail not five + miles behind; he'll land yere in half a hour an' I ain't none convinced he + won't land shootin'.' An' with this bluff, an' confidin' the preacher + sharp to Peets, Abby goes curvin' over to the O.K. Restauraw. + </p> + <p> + "However does this yere virgin look? Son, I hes'tates to deescribe a lady + onless the facts flows fav'rable for her. Which I'll take chances an' lie + a lot to say that any lady's beautiful, if you-all will only give me so + much as one good feacher to go on. But I'm powerless in the instance of + Abby. That's a blizzard effect to her face; an' the best you can say is + that if she don't look lovely, at least she looks convincin'. The + gnurliest pineknot burns frequent the hottest, an' you can take my word + for it, this Abby girl has sperit. Speakin' of her appearance, personal, + Missis Rucker—who's a fair jedge—allows later to Enright that + if Abby's a kyard in a faro game, she'd play her to lose. + </p> + <p> + "'Which she looks like a sick cat in the face, an' a greyhoun' in the + waist,' says Missis Rucker; 'an' I ain't got mortal use for no sech + spindlin' trollops as this yere Abby girl is, nohow.' + </p> + <p> + "'I don't know,' says Enright, shakin' his head; 'I ain't been enriched + with much practical experience with women, but I reckons now it's love + that does it. Whoever is that gent, Peets, who says, "love is blind"? He + knows his business, that sport does, an' about calls the turn.' + </p> + <p> + "'I ain't none so shore neither,' says Peets. 'Love may be blind, but + somehow, I don't sign up the play that way. Thar's plenty of people, same + as this pinfeather party, who discerns beauties in their sweethearts + that's veiled to you an' me.' + </p> + <p> + "Of course, these yere discussions concernin' Abby's charms takes place + weeks later. On the weddin' day, Wolfville's too busy trackin' 'round an' + backin' Abby's game to go makin' remarks. In this connection, however, + it's only right to Abby to say that her pinfeather beau don't share Missis + Rucker's views. Although Abby done threatens him with a gun-play to make + him lead her to the altar that time her old paw creases him, an' he begins + to wax low-sperited about wedlock, still, the pinfeather party's enamoured + of Abby an' wropped up in her. + </p> + <p> + "'Shore! says this pinfeather party to Texas Thompson, who, outen pity for + him, takes the bridegroom over to the Red Light, to be refreshed; 'shore! + while thar's no one that egreegious to go claimin' that my Abby's doo to + grade as "cornfed," all the same she's one of the most fascinatin' ladies,—that + is, an' give her a gun,—in all the len'th an' breadth of Arizona. I + knows; for I've seen my Abby shoot.' + </p> + <p> + "'Excoose me, pard,' says Texas, after surveyin' the pinfeather party + plenty sympathetic; 'pardon my seemin' roodness, if I confers with the + barkeep aside. On the level! now,' goes on Texas to Black Jack as he pulls + him off to a corner an' whispers so the pinfeather party don't hear; 'on + the level, Jack! ain't it my dooty—me who saveys what he's ag'inst—to + go warn this victim ag'in matrimony in all its horrors?' + </p> + <p> + "'Don't you do it!' remonstrates Black Jack, an' his voice trembles with + the emphasis he feels; 'don't you do it none! You-all stand paws off! + Which you don't know what you'll be answerable for! If this yere marriage + gets broke off, who knows what new line of conduct this Abby maiden will + put out. She may rope onto Boggs, or Peets, or mebby even me. As long as + Abby ain't marryin' none of us, Wolfville's attitoode oughter be one of + dignified nootrality.' + </p> + <p> + "Texas sighs deep an' sad as he turns ag'in to the pinfeather party; but + he sees the force of Black Jack's argyments an' yields without a effort to + combat 'em. + </p> + <p> + "'After all,' says Texas bitterly to himse'f, 'others has suffered; + wherefore, then, should this jaybird gent escape?' An' with that, Texas + hardens his heart an' gives up any notion of the pinfeather person's + rescoo. + </p> + <p> + "Which Abby now issues forth of the O.K. Restauraw an' j'ines the + pinfeather party when he emerges from the Red Light. + </p> + <p> + "'This sky pilot,' says Dan Boggs, approachin' the happy couple, 'sends + word by me that he's over in the New York store. In deefault of a + shore-enough sanchooary, he allows he yootilises that depot of trade as a + headquarters; an' he's now waitin', all keyed up an' ready to turn his + little game. Likewise, he's been complainin' 'round some querulous that + you folks is harsh with him, an' abducts him an' threatens his skelp.' + </p> + <p> + "'Now, see thar!' ejac'lates Abby, liftin' up her hands. 'Does mortal + y'ears ever before listen to sech folly! I suppose he takes that gun I has + as threats! I'm a onprotected young female, an' nacherally, when I embarks + on this yere elopement, I packs one of paw's guns. Besides, this + sweetheart of mine might get cold feet, an' try to jump the game, an' then + I'd need said weepon to make good my p'sition. But it's never meant for + that pastor! When I'm talkin' to him to prevail on him to come along, an' + that gun in my hand at the time, I does sort o' make references to him + with the muzzle. But he needn't go gettin' birdheaded over it; thar's + nothin' hostile meant!' + </p> + <p> + "'Enright explains to him satisfact'ry,' says Boggs. 'An' as you urges, it + don't mean nothin'. Folks on the brink of bein' married that a-way gets so + joyfully bewildered it comes mighty near the same as bein' locoed.' + </p> + <p> + "'Well,' says the pinfeather party, who's been stackin' up a dust-cloud + where some one's gallopin' along about three miles over on the trail, 'if + I'm any dab at a guess that's your infuriated paw pirootin' along over + yonder, an' we better get these matrimonial hobbles on without further + onreasonable delays. That old murderer would plug me; an' no more + hes'tation than if I'm a coyote! But once I'm moved up into p'sition as + his son-in-law, a feelin' of nearness an' kinship mighty likely op'rates + to stay his hand. Blood's thicker than water, an' I'm in a hurry to get + reelated to your paw.' + </p> + <p> + "But Enright has his notions of what's proper, an' he su'gests the + services be delayed ontil old Glegg gets in. Meanwhile he despatches Jack + Moore an' Dan Boggs as a gyard of honor to lead old Glegg to our trystin' + place in the New York store. + </p> + <p> + "'An' the first thing you-all do, Jack,' says Enright, as Jack an' Dan + rides away, 'you get that outcast's guns.' + </p> + <p> + "It ain't no more'n time for one drink when Jack an' Dan returns in + company of this Glegg. He's a fierce, gray old gent with a eye like a + wolf. Jest before he arrives, Enright advises the pinfeather person an' + the bride Abby, to go camp in the r'ar room so the sudden sight of 'em + won't exasp'rate this parent Glegg to madness. + </p> + <p> + "'Whatever's the meanin' of this yere concourse?' demands old Glegg, as he + comes into the New York store, an' p'intin' to where Peets an' Texas an' + Cherokee Hall, along with Enright, is standin' about; 'an' why does these + hold-ups'—yere he indicates Dan an' Jack,—'denoode me of my + hardware, I'd like to know?' + </p> + <p> + "'These gents,' says Enright, 'is a quorum of that respectable body known + as the Wolfville Stranglers, otherwise a Vig'lance Committee; an' your + guns was took so as to redooce the chances of hangin' you—the same + bein' some abundant, nacheral,—to minimum. Now who be you? also, + what's your little game?' + </p> + <p> + "'My name's Benjamin Glegg,' responds old Glegg. 'I owns the Sunflower + brand an' ranch. As for my game: thar's a member of my fam'ly escapes this + mornin'—comes streamin' over yere, I onderstands—an' I'm in + the saddle tryin' to round her up. Gents,' concloods old Glegg, an' he + displays emotion, 'I'm simply a harassed parent on the trail of his errant + offspring.' + </p> + <p> + "Then Enright makes old Glegg a long, soft talk, an' seeks to imboo him + with ca'mness. He relates how Abby an' the pinfeather sport dotes on each + other; an' counsels old Glegg not to come pesterin' about with roode + objections to the weddin'. + </p> + <p> + "'Which I says this as your friend,' remarks Enright. + </p> + <p> + "'It's as the scripter says,' replies old Glegg, who's mollified a lot, + 'it's as the good book says: A soft answer turneth away wrath; but more + speshully when the opp'sition's got your guns. I begins to see things + different. Still, I hates to lose my Abby that a-way. Since my old woman + dies, Abby, gents, has been the world an' all to me.' + </p> + <p> + "'Is your wife dead?" asks Enright, like he sympathises. + </p> + <p> + "'Shore!' says old Glegg; 'been out an' gone these two years. She's with + them cherubim in glory. But folks, you oughter seen her to onderstand my + loss. Five years ago we has a ranch over back of the Tres Hermanas by the + Mexico line. The Injuns used to go lopin' by our ranch, no'th an' south, + all the time. You-all recalls when they pays twenty-five dollars for + skelps in Tucson? My wife's that thrifty them days that she buys all her + own an' my child Abby's clothes with the Injuns she pots. Little Abby used + to scout for her maw. "Yere comes another!" little Abby would cry, as she + stampedes up all breathless, her childish face aglow. With that, my wife + would take her hands outen the wash-tub, snag onto that savage with her + little old Winchester, and quit winner twenty-five right thar.' + </p> + <p> + "'Which I don't marvel you-all mourns her loss,' says Enright consolin'ly. + </p> + <p> + "'She's shorely—Missis Glegg is—' says old Glegg, shakin' his + grizzly head; 'she's shore the most meteoric married lady of which hist'ry + says a word. My girl Abby's like her.' + </p> + <p> + "'But whatever's your objection,' argues Enright, 'to this young an' + trusty sport who's so eager to wed Abby?' + </p> + <p> + "'I objects to him because he gambles,' says old Glegg. 'I can see he + gambles by him pickin' up the salt cellar between his thumb an' middle + finger with the forefinger over the top like it's a stack of chips, one + evenin' when he stays to supper an' I asks him to "pass the salt." Then + ag'in, he don't drink; he tells me so himse'f when I invites him to + libate. I ain't goin' to have no teetotal son-in-law around, over-powerin' + me in a moral way; I'd feel criticised an' I couldn't stand it, gents. + Lastly, I don't like this yere felon's name none.' + </p> + <p> + "'Whatever is his name, then?' asks Enright. 'So far he don't confide no + title to us.' + </p> + <p> + "'An' I don't wonder none!' says old Glegg. 'It shows he's decent enough + to be ashamed. Thar's hopes of him yet. Gents, his name's Toad Allen. + "Allen" goes, but, gents, I flies in the air at "Toad." Do you-all blame + me? I asks you, as onbiased sports, would you set ca'mly down while a + party named "Toad" puts himse'f in nom'nation to be your son-in-law?' + </p> + <p> + "'None whatever!' says Jack Moore; an' Dan an' Cherokee an' Texas echoes + the remark. + </p> + <p> + "'You-all camp down yere with a tumbler of Valley Tan,' says Enright, 'an' + make yourse'f comfortable with my colleagues, while I goes an' consults + with our Gretna Green outfit in the r'ar room.' + </p> + <p> + "Enright returns after a bit, an' his face has that air of + se'f-satisfaction that goes with a gent who's playin' on velvet. + </p> + <p> + "'Your comin' son-in-law,' says Enright to old Glegg, 'defends himse'f + from them charges as follows: He agrees to quit gamblin'; he says he lies + a whole lot when he tells you-all he don't drink none; an' lastly, + deplorin' "Toad" as a cognomen, an' explainin' that he don't assoome it of + free choice but sort o' has it sawed off on him in he'pless infancy, he + offers—you consentin' to the weddin'—to reorganise onder the + name of "Benjamin Glegg Allen."' + </p> + <p> + "Son, this yere last proposal wins over old Glegg in a body. He not only + withdraws all objections to the nuptials, but allows he'll make the + pinfeather sport an' Abby full partners in the Sunflower. At this p'int, + Enright notifies the preacher sharp that all depends on him; an' that + excellent teacher at once acquits himse'f so that in two minutes Wolfville + adds another successful weddin' to her list of triumphs. + </p> + <p> + "'It 'lustrates too,' says Enright, when two days later the weddin' party + has returned to Tucson, an' Wolfville ag'in sinks to a normal state of + slumbrous ease, 'it sort o' 'lustrates how open to argyments a gent is + when once he's lost his weepons. Now if he isn't disarmed that time, my + eloquence wouldn't have had no more effect on old Glegg than throwin' + water on a drowned rat.'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. The Clients of Aaron Green. + </h2> + <p> + "And so there were no lawyers in Wolfville?" I said. The Old Cattleman + filled his everlasting pipe, lighted it, and puffed experimentally. There + was a handful of wordless moments devoted to pipe. Then, as one satisfied + of a smoky success, he turned attention to me and my remark. + </p> + <p> + "Lawyers in Wolfville?" he repeated. "Not in my day; none whatever! It's + mighty likely though that some of 'em's done come knockin' along by now. + Them jurists is a heap persistent, not to say diffoosive, an' soon or late + they shore trails into every camp. Which we'd have had 'em among us long + ago, but nacherally, an' as far as argyments goes, we turns 'em off. + Se'f-preservation is a law of nacher, an' these maxims applies to + commoonities as much as ever they does to gents personal. Wherefore, + whenever we notices a law wolf scoutin' about an' tryin' to get the wind + on us, we employs our talents for lyin', fills him up with fallacies, an' + teaches him that to come to Wolfville is to put down his destinies on a + dead kyard; an' he tharupon abandons whatever of plans he's harbourin' + ag'in us, seein' nothin' tharin. + </p> + <p> + "It's jest before I leaves for the East when one of these coyotes crosses + up with Old Man Enright in Tucson, an' submits the idee of his + professional invasion of our camp. + </p> + <p> + "'Which I'm in the Oriental at the time,' says Enright, when he relates + about his adventure, 'an' this maverick goes to jumpin' sideways at me in + a friendly mood. Bein' I'm a easy-mannered sport with strangers, he has no + trouble gettin' acquainted. At last he allows that he aims to pitch his + teepee in Wolfville, hang out a shingle, an' plunge into joorisprudence. + "I was thinkin'," says he, "of openin' a joint for the practice of law. As + a condition prior advised by the barkeep, an' one which also recommends + itse'f to me as dictated of the commonest proodence, I figgers on gainin' + your views of these steps." + </p> + <p> + "'"You does well," I replies, "to consult me on them p'ints. I sees you're + shore a jo-darter of a lawyer; for you handles the language like a + muleskinner does a blacksnake whip. But jest the same, don't for one + moment think of breakin' in on Wolfville. That outfit don't practice law + none; she practices facts. It offers no openin' for your game. Comin' to + Wolfville onder any conditions is ever a movement of gravity, an onless a + gent is out to chase cattle or dandle kyards or proposes to array himse'f + in the ranks of commerce by foundin' a s'loon, Wolfville would not + guarantee his footure any positive reward." + </p> + <p> + "'"Then I jest won't come a whole lot," says this law sharp. Whereupon we + engages in mootual drinks an' disperses to our destinies.' + </p> + <p> + "'What you tells this sport,' says Texas Thompson, who's listenin' to + Enright, 'echoes my sentiments exact. Anything to keep out law! It ain't + alone the jedgments for divorce which my wife grabs off over in Laredo, + but it comes to me as the frootes of a experience which has been as wide + as it has been plenty soon, that law is only another word for trouble in + egreegious forms.' + </p> + <p> + "'So I decides,' retorts Enright. 'Still, I'm proud to be endorsed by as + good a jedge of public disorder an' its preventives as Texas Thompson. + Sech approvals ever tends to stiffen a gent's play. As I states, I + reeverses this practitioner an' heads him t'other way. Wolfville is the + home of friendly confidence; the throne of yoonity an' fraternal peace. It + must not be jeopardised. We-all don't want to incur no resks by abandonin' + ourse'fs to real shore-enough law. It would debauch us: we'd get plumb + locoed an' take to racin' wild an' cimarron up an' down the range, an' no + gent could foresee results. It's better than even money, that with the + advent of a law sharp into our midst, historians of this hamlet would + begin their last chapter. They would head her: "Wolfville's Last Days." + </p> + <p> + "'It's twenty years ago,' goes on Enright, 'while I'm that season in + Texas, that a sharp packs his blankets into Yellow City an' puts it up + he'll practice some law. No; he ain't wanted, but he never does give no + gent a chance to say so. He comes trackin' in onannounced, an' the first + we-all saveys, thar's his sign a-swingin', an' ashoorin' the sports of + Yellow City of the presence of + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + AARON GREEN, ESQ. ATTORNEY-AT-LAW. +</pre> + <p> + "'Nobody gets excited; for while we agrees to prevail on him ultimately to + shift his camp a heap, the sityooation don't call for nothin' + preecipitate. In fact, the idee of him or any other besotted person + turnin' loose that a-way in Yellow City, strikes us as loodicrous. Thar's + nothing for a law-gent to do. I've met up with a heap of camps in my day; + an' I've witnessed the work of many a vig'lance committee; but I'm yere to + state that for painstakin' ardour an' a energy that never sleeps, the + Stranglers of Yellow City is a even break with the best. They uses up a + bale of half-inch rope a year; an' as for law an' order an' a scene of + fragrant peace, that outfit is comparable only with flower gyardens on a + quiet hazy August afternoon. + </p> + <p> + "'This Aaron Green who prounces thus on Yellow City, intendin' to foment + litigations an' go ropin' 'round for fees, is plenty young; but he's that + grave an' dignified that owls is hilarious to him. One after the other, he + tackles us in a severe onmitigated way, an' shoves his professional kyard + onto each an' tells him that whenever he feels ill-used to come a-runnin' + an' have his rights preserved. Shore! the boys meets this law person half + way. They drinks with him an' fills him up with licker an' fictions + alternate, an' altogether regyards him as a mighty yoomerous prop'sition. + </p> + <p> + "'Also, observin' how tender he is, an' him takin' in their various lies + like texts of holy writ, they names him "Easy Aaron." Which he don't look + on "Easy Aaron" none too well as a title, an' insists on bein' called + "Jedge Green" or even "Squar' Green." But Yellow City won't have it; she + sticks to "Easy Aaron"; an' as callin' down the entire camp offers + prospects full of fever an' oncertainty, he at last passes up the insult + an' while he stays among us, pays no further heed. + </p> + <p> + "'Doorin' the weeks he harbours with us, a gen'ral taste deevelops to hear + this Easy Aaron's eloquence. Thar's a delegation waits on him an' requests + Easy Aaron to come forth an' make a speech. We su'gests that he can + yootilise the Burnt Boot Saloon as a auditorium, an' offers as a subject + "Texas: her Glorious Past, her Glitterin' Present, an' her Transcendent + Footure!" + </p> + <p> + "'"Thar's a topic!" says Shoestring Griffith to Easy Aaron—Shoestring + is the cha'rman of the committee,—"thar's a burnin' topic for you! + An' if you-all will only come surgin' over to the Burnt Boot right now + while you're warm for the event, I offers two to one you makes Cicero look + like seven cents." + </p> + <p> + "'But Easy Aaron waves 'em arrogantly away. He declines to go barkin' at a + knot. He says it'll be soon enough to onbuckle an' swamp Yellow City with + a flood of eloquence when proper legal o'casion enfolds. + </p> + <p> + "'In the room to the r'ar of the apartments where this Easy Aaron holds + forth as a practitioner, thar's a farobank as is nacheral enough. It's + about second drink time in the afternoon, bein' a time of day when the + faro game is dead. A passel of conspirators, with Shoestring Griffith in + the lead, goes to this room an' reelaxes into a game of draw. Easy Aaron + can hear the flutter of the chips through the partition—the same + bein' plenty thin—where he's camped like a spider in its web an' + waitin' for some sport who needs law to show up. Easy Aaron listens + careless an' indifferent to Shoestring an' his fellow blacklaigs as they + deals an' antes an' raises an' rakes in pots, an' everybody mighty + joobilant as is frequent over poker. + </p> + <p> + "'Of a suddent, roars an' yells an' reecriminations yoosurps the place of + merriment. Then the guns! An' half the lead comes spittin' an' splittin' + through that intervenin' partition like she's kyardboard. The bullets + flies high enough to miss Easy Aaron, but low enough to invoke a gloomy + frame of mind. + </p> + <p> + "'This yere artillery practice don't continyoo long before Yellow City + descends on Shoestring an' his band of homicides; an' when they've got 'em + sorted out, thar's Billy Goodnight too defunct to skin, an' Shoestring + Griffith does it. + </p> + <p> + "'Thar's no time lost; the Stranglers convenes in the Burnt Boot, an' + exact jestice stands on expectant tiptoe for its prey. But Shoestring + raises objections. + </p> + <p> + "'"Which before ever you-all reptiles takes my innocent life," says + Shoestring, "I wants a lawyer. I swings off in style or I don't swing. You + hear me! send across for Easy Aaron. You can gamble, I'm going to + interpose a defense." + </p> + <p> + "'"That's but right," says Waco Anderson who's the chief of the + Stranglers. "Assembled as we be to revenge the ontimely pluggin' of the + late Billy Goodnight, still this Shoestring may demand a even deal. If + some gent will ramble over an' round up Easy Aaron, as Shoestring desires, + it will be regyarded by the committee, an' this lynchin' can then + proceed." + </p> + <p> + "'Easy Aaron is onearthed from onder his desk where he's still quiled up, + pale an' pantin', by virchoo of the bullets. Jim Wise, who goes for him, + explains that the shower is over; an' also that he's in enormous demand to + save Shoestring for beefin' Billy Goodnight. At this, Easy Aaron gets up + an' coughs 'round for a moment or two, recoverin' his nerve; then he + buttons his surtoot, assoomes airs of sagacity, tucks the Texas Statootes + onder his arm, reepairs to the Burnt Boot an' allows he's ready to defend + Shoestring from said charges. + </p> + <p> + "'"But not onless my fees is paid in advance," says this Easy Aaron. + </p> + <p> + "'At that, we-all passes the hat an' each chucks in a white chip or two, + an' when Waco Anderson counts up results it shows wellnigh eighty-five + dollars. Easy Aaron shakes his head like it's mighty small; but he takes + it an' casts himse'f loose. An', gents, he's shore verbose! He pelts an' + pounds that committee with a hailstorm of observations, ontil all they can + do is set thar an' wag their y'ears an' bat their eyes. Waco Anderson + himse'f allows, when discussin' said oration later, that he ain't beheld + nothin' so muddy an' so much since the last big flood on the Brazos. + </p> + <p> + "'After Easy Aaron holds forth for two hours, Waco preevails on him with a + six-shooter to pause for breath. Waco's tried twenty times to get Easy + Aaron to stop long enough to let the Stranglers get down a verbal bet, but + that advocate declines to be restrained. He treats Waco's efforts with + scorn an' rides him down like he, Easy Aaron, is a bunch of cattle on a + stampede. Thar's no headin' or holdin' him ontil Waco, in desperation, + takes to tyrannisin' at him with his gun. + </p> + <p> + "'"It's this," says Waco, when Easy Aaron's subdooed. "If the eminent gent + will quit howlin' right yere an' never another yelp, the committee is + willin' to throw this villain Shoestring loose. Every one of us is a slave + to dooty, but we pauses before personal deestruction in a awful form. + Billy Goodnight is gone; ondoubted his murderer should win the doom meted + out for sech atrocities; but dooty or no dooty, this committee ain't + called on to be talked to death in its discharge. Yellow City makes no + sech demands of its servants; wherefore, I repeats, that if this Easy + Aaron sits mute where he is, we agrees to cut Shoestring's bonds an' + restore him to that freedom whereof he makes sech florid use." + </p> + <p> + "'At this, Easy Aaron stands up, puffs out his chest, bows to Waco an' the + others, an' evolves 'em a patronisin' gesture signifyin' that their bluff + is called. Shoestring Griffith is saved. + </p> + <p> + "'Doorin' the subsequent line-up at the bar which concloods the + ceremonies, Easy Aaron waxes indignant an' is harrowed to observe Billy + Goodnight imbibin' with the rest. + </p> + <p> + "'"I thought you-all dead!" says Easy Aaron, in tones of wrathful + reproach. + </p> + <p> + "'"Which I was dead," says Billy, sort o' apol'getic, "but them words of + fire brings me to." + </p> + <p> + "'Easy Aaron don't make no answer, but as he jingles the fee the sour look + relaxes. + </p> + <p> + "'As I remarks, Easy Aaron ain't with us over long. Yellow City is that + much worse off than Wolfville that she has a little old 'doby calaboose + that's been built since the old Mexico days. Thar's no shore-enough jedge + an' jury ever comes to Yellow City; an' if the kyards was so run that we + has a captive which the Stranglers deems beneath 'em, he would be drug + 'way over yonder to some county seat. It's but fair to say that no sech + contretemps presents itse'f up to the advent of Easy Aaron; an' while + thar's now an' then a small accoomulation of felons doorin' sech seasons + as the boys is off on the ranges or busy with the roundups, thar never + fails to come a clean-up in plenty of time. The Stranglers comes back; + jestice resoomes her sway, an' the calaboose is ag'in as empty as a + church. + </p> + <p> + "'It befalls, however, that doorin' the four or five weeks to follow the + acquittal of that homicide Shoestring, an' while Waco Anderson an' a + quorum of the committee is away teeterin' about in their own affairs, the + calaboose gets filled up with two white men and either four or five + Mexicans—I can't say the last for shore, as I ain't got a good + mem'ry for Mexicans. These parties is held for divers malefactions from + shootin' up a Greaser dance-hall to stealin' a cow over on the Honeymoon. + </p> + <p> + "'To his joy, Easy Aaron is reetained to defend this crim'nal herd. It's + shore pleasant to watch him! I never sees the sport who's that proudly + content. Easy Aaron visits these yere clients of his every day; an' when + he has time, he walks out onto the plains so far that you-all can't hear + his tones, an' rehearses the speeches he's aimin' to make when he gets + them cut-throats before a jury. We-all could see him prancin' up an' down, + tossin' his hands an' all in the most locoed way. As I states, he's too + far off to be heard none; but he's in plain view from the front windows of + the Burnt Boot, an' we-all finds them antics plumb divertin.' + </p> + <p> + "'"These cases," says Easy Aaron to me, for he's that happy an' + enthoosiastic he's got to open up on some gent; "these cases is bound to + fix my fame as the modern Demosthenes. You knows how eloquent I am about + Shoestring? That won't be a marker to the oration I'll frame up for these + miscreants in the calaboose. For why? Shoestring's time I ain't organised; + also, I'm more or less shook by the late bullets buzzin' an' hummin' like + a passel of bloo-bottle flies about my office. But now will be different. + I'll be ready, an' I'll be in a cool frenzy, the same bein' a mood which + is excellent, partic'lar if a gent is out to break records for rhetoric. I + shore regyards them malefactors as so many rungs for my clamberin' up the + ladder of fame." An' with that this Easy Aaron goes pirootin' forth upon + the plains ag'in to resoome his talking at a mark. + </p> + <p> + "'It's mebby a week after this exultation of Easy Aaron's, an' Waco + Anderson an' the others is in from the ranges. Yellow City is onusual + vivacious an' lively. You-all may jedge of the happy prosperity of local + feelin' when I assoores you that the average changed in at farobank each + evenin' ain't less than twenty thousand dollars. As for Easy Aaron, he's + goin' about in clouds of personal an' speshul delight. It's now crowdin' + along towards the time when him an' his clients will adjourn over to that + county seat an' give Easy Aaron the opportoonity to write his name on the + deathless calendars of fame. + </p> + <p> + "'But black disapp'intment gets Easy Aaron squar' in the door. One morning + he reepairs to the calaboose to consult with the felons on whose interests + he's ridin' herd. Horror seizes him; he finds the cells as vacant as a + echo. + </p> + <p> + "'"Where's these clients?" asks Easy Aaron, while his face grows white. + </p> + <p> + "'"Vamosed!" says the Mexican who carries the calaboose keys; an' with + that he turns in mighty composed, to roll a cigarette. + </p> + <p> + "'"Vamoosed, where at?" pursoos Easy Aaron. + </p> + <p> + "'"<i>Por el inferno</i>!" says the Mexican; he's got his cigarette + lighted, an' is puffin' as contented as hoss-thieves. "See thar, <i>Amigo</i>!" + goes on the Greaser, indicatin' down the street. + </p> + <p> + "'Easy Aaron gazes where the Mexican p'ints, an' his heart turns to water. + Thar swayin' an' swingin' like tassels in the mornin' breeze, an' each as + dead as Gen'ral Taylor, he beholds his entire docket hangin' to the + windmill. Easy Aaron approaches an' counts 'em up. Which they're all thar! + The Stranglers shorely makes a house cleanin'. As Easy Aaron looks upon + them late clients, he wrings his hands. + </p> + <p> + "'"Thar hangs fame!" says Easy Aaron; "thar hangs my chance of eminence! + That eloquence, wherewith my heart is freighted, an' which would have else + declar'd me the Erskine of the Brazos, is lynched with my clients." Then + wheelin' on Waco Anderson who strolls over, Easy Aaron demands plenty + f'rocious: "Whoever does this dastard deed?" + </p> + <p> + "'"Which this agitated sport," observes Waco coldly to Shoestring + Griffith, who comes loungin' up likewise, "asks whoever does these yere + dastard deeds! Does you-all recall the fate, Shoestring, of the last + misguided shorthorn who gives way to sech a query? My mem'ry is never + ackerate as to trifles, an' I'm confoosed about whether he's shot or hung + or simply burned alive." + </p> + <p> + "'"That prairie dog is hanged a lot," says Shoestring. "Which the boys was + goin' to burn him, but on its appearin' that he puts the question more in + ignorance than malice, they softens on second thought to that degree they + merely gets a rope, adds him to the windmill with the others, an' lets the + matter drop." + </p> + <p> + "'Easy Aaron don't crowd his explorations further. He can see thar's what + you-all might call a substratum of seriousness to the observations of Waco + an' Shoestring, an' his efforts to solve the mystery that disposes of + every law case he has, an' leaves him to begin life anew, comes to a halt! + </p> + <p> + "'But it lets pore Easy Aaron out. He borrys a hoss from the corral, packs + the Texas Statootes an' his extra shirt in the war-bags, an' with that the + only real law wolf who ever makes his lair in Yellow City, p'ints sadly + no'thward an' is seen no more. As he's about to ride away, Easy Aaron + turns to me. He's sort o' got the notion I ain't so bad as Waco, + Shoestring, an' the rest. "I shall never return," says Easy Aaron, an' he + shakes his head plenty disconsolate. "Genius has no show in Yellow City. + This outfit hangs a gent's clients as fast as ever he's retained an' + offers no indoocements—opens no opportoonities, to a ambitious + barrister."'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. Colonel Sterett Relates Marvels. + </h2> + <p> + "As I asserts frequent," observed the Old Cattleman, the while delicately + pruning a bit of wood he'd picked up on his walk, "the funds of + information, gen'ral an' speshul, which Colonel William Greene Sterett + packs about would freight a eight-mule team. It's even money which of 'em + saveys the most, him or Doc Peets. For myself, after careful study, I + inclines to the theery that Colonel Sterett's knowledge is the widest, + while Peets's is the most exact. Both is college gents; an' yet they + differs as to the valyoo of sech sem'naries. The Colonel coppers colleges, + while Peets plays 'em to win. + </p> + <p> + "'Them temples of learnin',' says the Colonel, 'is a heap ornate; but they + don't make good.' This is doubted by Peets. + </p> + <p> + "One evenin' Dan Boggs, who's allers tantalisin' 'round askin' questions—it + looks like a sleepless cur'osity is proned into Dan—ropes at Peets + concernin' this topic: + </p> + <p> + "'Whatever do they teach in colleges, Doc?' asks Dan. + </p> + <p> + "'They teaches all of the branches," retorts Peets. + </p> + <p> + "'An' none of the roots,' adds Colonel Sterett, 'as a cunnin' Yank once + remarks on a o'casion sim'lar.' + </p> + <p> + "No, the Colonel an' Peets don't go lockin' horns in these differences. + Both is a mighty sight too well brought up for that; moreover, they don't + allow to set the camp no sech examples. They entertains too high a regyard + for each other to take to pawin' about pugnacious, verbal or otherwise. + </p> + <p> + "The Colonel's information is as wide flung as a buzzard's wing. Thar's + mighty few mysteries he ain't authorised to eloocidate. An' from time to + time, accordin' as the Colonel's more or less in licker, he enlightens + Wolfville on a multitoode of topics. Which the Colonel is a profound + eddicational innocence; that's whatever! + </p> + <p> + "It's one evenin' an' the moon is swingin' high in the bloo-black heavens + an' looks like a gold doorknob to the portals of the eternal beyond. Texas + Thompson fixes his eyes tharon, meditative an' pensive, an' then he + wonders: + </p> + <p> + "'Do you-all reckon, now, that folks is livin' up thar?' + </p> + <p> + "'Whatever do you think yourse'f, Colonel?' says Enright, passin' the + conundrum over to the editor of the <i>Coyote</i>. 'Do you think thar's + folks on the moon?' + </p> + <p> + "'Do I think thar's folks on the moon?' repeats the Colonel as ca'mly + confident as a club flush. 'I don't think,—I knows.' + </p> + <p> + "'Whichever is it then?' asks Dan Boggs, whose ha'r already begins to + bristle, he's that inquisitive. 'Simply takin' a ignorant shot in the dark + that away, I says, "No." That moon looks like a mighty lonesome loominary + to me.' + </p> + <p> + "'Jest the same,' retorts the Colonel, an' he's a lot dogmatic, 'that + planet's fairly speckled with people. An' if some gent will recall the + errant fancies of Black Jack to a sense of dooty, I'll onfold how I knows. + </p> + <p> + "'It's when I'm crowdin' twenty,' goes on the Colonel, followin' the + ministrations of Black Jack, 'an' I'm visitin' about the meetropolis of + Looeyville. I've been sellin' a passel of runnin' hosses; an' as I rounds + up a full peck of doubloons for the fourteen I disposes of, I'm feelin' + too contentedly cunnin' to live. It's evenin' an' the moon is shinin' same + as now. I jest pays six bits for my supper at the Galt House, an' lights a + ten cent seegyar—Oh! I has the bridle off all right!—an' I'm + romancin' leesurly along the street, when I encounters a party who's + ridin' herd on one of these yere telescopes, the same bein' p'inted at the + effulgent moon. Gents, she's shorely a giant spy-glass, that instrooment + is; bigger an' longer than the smokestack of any steamboat between + Looeyville an' Noo Orleans. She's swung on a pa'r of shears; each stick a + cl'ar ninety foot of Norway pine. As I goes pirootin' by, this gent with + the telescope pipes briskly up. + </p> + <p> + "'"Take a look at the moon?" + </p> + <p> + "'"No," I replies, wavin' him off some haughty, for that bag of doubloons + has done puffed me up. "No, I don't take no interest in the moon." + </p> + <p> + "'As I'm comin' back, mebby it's a hour later, this astronomer is still + swingin' an' rattlin' with the queen of night. He pitches his lariat ag'in + an' now he fastens. + </p> + <p> + "'"You-all better take a look; they're havin' the time of their c'reers up + thar." + </p> + <p> + "'"Whatever be they doin'?" + </p> + <p> + "'"Tellin' wouldn't do no good," says the savant; "it's one of them + rackets a gent has to see to savey." + </p> + <p> + "'"What's the ante?" I asks, for the fires of my cur'osity begins to burn. + </p> + <p> + "'"Four bits! An' considerin' the onusual doin's goin' for'ard, it's + cheaper than corn whiskey." + </p> + <p> + "'No; I don't stand dallyin' 'round, tryin' to beat this philosopher down + in his price. That ain't my style. When I'm ready to commit myse'f to a + enterprise, I butts my way in, makes good the tariff, an' no delays. + Tharfore, when this gent names four bits, I onpouches the <i>dinero</i> + an' prepares to take a astronomic peek. + </p> + <p> + "'"How long do I gaze for four bits?" I asks, battin' my right eye to get + it into piercin' shape. + </p> + <p> + "'"Go as far as you likes," retorts the philosopher; "thar's no limit." + </p> + <p> + "'Gents,' says the Colonel, pausin' to renoo his Valley Tan, while Dan an' + Texas an' even Old Man Enright hitches their cha'rs a bit nearer, the + interest is that intense; 'gents, you-all should have took a squint with + me through them lenses. Which if you enjoys said privilege, you can gamble + Dan an' Texas wouldn't be camped 'round yere none tonight, exposin' their + ignorance an' lettin' fly croode views concernin' astronomy. That + telescope actooally brings the moon plumb into Kaintucky;—brings her + within the reach of all. You could stretch to her with your hand, she's + that clost.' + </p> + <p> + "'But is thar folks thar?' says Dan, who's excited by the Colonel's + disclosures. 'Board the kyard, Colonel, an' don't hold us in suspense." + </p> + <p> + "'Folks!' returns the Colonel. 'I wishes I has two-bit pieces for every + one of 'em! The face of that orb is simply festered with folks! She teems + with life; ant-hills on election day means desertion by compar'son. Thar's + thousands an' thousands of people, mobbin' about indiscrim'nate; I sees + 'em as near an' plain as I sees Dan.' + </p> + <p> + "'An' whatever be they doin'?' asks Dan. + </p> + <p> + "'They're pullin' off a hoss race,' says the Colonel, lookin' steady in + Dan's eye. 'An' you hears me! I never sees sech bettin' in my life.' + </p> + <p> + "Nacherally we-all feels refreshed with these experiences of Colonel + Sterett's, for as Enright observes, it's by virchoo of sech casooal chunks + of information that a party rounds out a eddication. + </p> + <p> + "'It ain't what a gent learns in schools,' says Enright, 'that broadens + him an' stiffens his mental grip; it's knowledge like this yere moon story + from trustworthy sources that augments him an' fills him full. Go on, + Colonel, an' onload another marvel or two. You-all must shore have + witnessed a heap!' + </p> + <p> + "'Them few sparse facts touchin' the moon,' returns Colonel Sterett, + 'cannot be deemed wonders in any proper sense. They're merely interestin' + details which any gent gets onto who brings science to his aid. But usin' + the word "wonders," I does once blunder upon a mir'cle which still waits + to be explained. That's a shore-enough marvel! An' to this day, all I can + state is that I sees it with these yere eyes.' + </p> + <p> + "'Let her roll!' says Texas Thompson. 'That moon story prepares us for + anything.' + </p> + <p> + "'Texas,' observes the Colonel, a heap severe, 'I'd hate to feel that your + observations is the jeerin' offspring of distrust.' + </p> + <p> + "'Me distrust!' replies Texas, hasty to squar' himse'f. 'I'd as soon think + of distrustin' that Laredo divorce of my former he'pmeet! An' as the + sheriff drives off two hundred head of my cattle by way of alimony, I + deems the fact of that sep'ration as fixed beyond cavil. No, Colonel, you + has my fullest confidence. I'd go doubtin' the evenhanded jestice of + Cherokee's faro game quicker than distrustin' you.' + </p> + <p> + "'An' I'm present to say,' returns the Colonel mighty complacent, 'that I + looks on sech assoorances as complimentary. To show which I onhesitatin'ly + reels off that eepisode to which I adverts. + </p> + <p> + "'I'm only a child; but I retains my impressions as sharp cut an' cl'ar as + though she happens yesterday. It's a time when one of these legerdemain + sharps pastes up his bills in our village an' lets on he'll give a show in + Liberty Hall on the comin' Saturday evenin'. An' gents, to simply read of + the feats he threatens to perform would loco you! Besides, thar's a + picture of Satan, black an' fiery an' frightful, where he's he'pin' this + gifted person to foist said mir'cles upon the age. I don't exaggerate none + when I asserts that the moment our village gets its eye on these + three-sheets it comes to a dead halt. + </p> + <p> + "'Old Squar' Alexanders is the war chief of the hamlet, an' him an' the + two other selectmen c'llects themse'fs over their toddies an' canvasses + whether they permits this wizard to give his fiendish exhibitions in our + midst. They has it pro an' con ontil the thirteenth drink, when Squar' + Alexanders who's ag'in the wizard brings the others to his views; an' as + they staggers forth from the tavern it's the yoonanimous decision to bar + that Satan-aided show. + </p> + <p> + "'"Witches, wizards, elves, gnomes, bull-beggars, fiends, an' devils is + debarred the Bloo Grass Country," says Squar' Alexanders, speakin' for + himse'f an' his fellow selectmen, "an' they're not goin' to be allowed to + hold their black an' sulphurous mass meetin's yere." + </p> + <p> + "'It comes Saturday evenin' an' the necromancer is in the tavern eatin' + his supper. Shore! he looks like common folks at that! Squar' Alexanders + is waitin' for him in the bar. When he shows up, carelessly pickin' his + teeth, it's mebby half a hour before the show, Squar' Alexanders don't + fritter away no time, but rounds up the wizard. + </p> + <p> + "'"Thar's no show which has Satan for a silent partner goin' to cut itse'f + loose in this village," says Squar' Alexanders. + </p> + <p> + "'"What's this talk about Satan?" responds the wizard. "I don't savey no + more about Satan than I does about you." + </p> + <p> + "'"Look at them bills," says Squar' Alexanders, an' he p'ints to where one + is hangin' on the barroom wall. It gives a picture of the foul fiend, with + pitchfork, spear-head tail an' all. "Whatever do you call that?" + </p> + <p> + "'"That's a bluff," says the wizard. "If Kaintucky don't get tangled up + with Satan ontil I imports him to her fertile shores, you cimmarons may + regyard yourse'fs as saved." + </p> + <p> + "'"Be you-all goin' to do the sundry deeds you sets forth in the + programmes?" asks Squar' Alexanders after a pause. + </p> + <p> + "'"Which I shorely be!" says the wizard, "an' if I falls down or fails you + can call me a ab'litionist." + </p> + <p> + "'"Then all I has to say is this," returns Squar' Alexanders; "no gent + could do them feats an' do 'em on the level. You'd have to have the he'p + of demons to pull em off. An' that brings us back to my first + announcement; an' stranger, your show don't go." + </p> + <p> + "'At this the wizard lets on he's lost patience with Squar' Alexanders an' + declares he won't discuss with him no more. Also, he gives it out that, + Satan, or no Satan, he'll begin to deal his game at eight o'clock. + </p> + <p> + "'"Very well!" rejoins Squar' Alexanders. "Since you refooses to be warned + I shall shore instruct the constable to collar you on the steps of Liberty + Hall." As he says this, Squar' Alexanders p'ints across to Chet Kishler, + who's the constable, where he's restin' hhnse'f in front of Baxter's + store. + </p> + <p> + "'This yere Chet is a giant an' clost onto eight foot high. It's a warm + evenin', an' as the wizard glances over at Chet, he notices how that + offishul is lazily fannin' himse'f with a barn-door which he's done lifted + off the hinges for that coolin' purpose. The wizard don't say nothin', but + he does turn a mite pale; he sees with half a eye that Satan himse'f would + be he'pless once Chet gets his two paws on him. However, he assoomes that + he's out to give the show as per schedoole. + </p> + <p> + "'It's makin' toward eight when the wizard lights a seegyar, drinks four + fingers of Willow Run, an' goes p'intin' out for Liberty Hall. Chet gets + up, hangs the barn-door back on its hinges, an' sa'nters after. Squar' + Alexanders has posted Chet as to his dooties an' his orders is to prounce + on the necromancer if he offers to enter the hall. That's how the + cavalcade lines up: first, the wizard; twenty foot behind is Chet; an' + twenty foot behind our constable comes the public in a body. + </p> + <p> + "'About half way to Liberty Hall the wizard begins to show nervous an' + oncertain. He keeps lookin' back at Chet; an' even in my childish + simplicity I sees that he ain't pleased with the outlook. At last he + weakens an' abandons his idee of a show. Gents, as I fills my glass, I + asks you-all however now do you reckon that wizard beats a retreat?' + </p> + <p> + "Thar's no reply. Dan, Texas, an' the others, while Colonel Sterett + acquires his licker, shakes their heads dumbly as showin' they gives it + up. + </p> + <p> + "'Which you'd shorely never guess!' retorts the Colonel, wipin' his lips. + 'Of a sudden, this wizard tugs somethin' outen his pocket that looks like + a ball of kyarpet-rags. Holdin' one end, quick as thought he tosses the + ball of kyarpet-rags into the air. It goes straight up ontil lost to view, + onwindin' itse'f in its flight because of the wizard holdin' on. + </p> + <p> + "'Gents, that ball of kyarpet-rags never does come down no-more! An' it's + all done as easy as a set-lock rifle! The wizard climbs the danglin' + string of kyarpet-rags, hand over hand; then he drifts off an' up'ards + ontil he don't look bigger than a bumble-bee; an' then he's lost in the + gatherin' shadows of the Jooly night. + </p> + <p> + "'Squar' Alexanders, Chet, an' the village stands strainin' their eyes for + twenty minutes. But the wizard's vamosed; an' at last, when each is + convinced tharof, the grown folks led by Squar' Alexanders reepairs back + into the tavern an' takes another drink.' + </p> + <p> + "'That's a mighty marvellous feat your necromancer performs, Colonel,' + remarks Enright, an' the old chief is grave as becomes the Colonel's + revelations; 'he's a shore-enough wonder-worker, that wizard is!' + </p> + <p> + "But I ain't got to the wonders none as yet,' reemonstrates the Colonel, + who spunks up a bit peevish for him. 'An' from the frequent way wherein + I'm interrupted, it don't look much like I will. Goin' sailin' away into + darklin' space with that ball of enchanted kyarpet-rags,—that ain't + the sooper-nacheral part at all! Shore! ondoubted it's some hard to do as + a feat, but still thar's other feachers which from the standp'int of the + marvellous overpowers it like four kings an' a ace. That wonder is this: + It's quarter to eight when the wizard takes his flight by means of the + kyarpet-rags. Gents, at eight o'clock sharp the same evenin' he walks on + the stage an' gives a show at St. Looey, hundreds of miles away.'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. The Luck of Hardrobe. + </h2> + <p> + "Which I tells this yere narrative first, back in one of them good old Red + Light evenin's when it's my turn to talk." + </p> + <p> + The Old Cattleman following this remark, considered me for a moment in + silence. I had myself been holding the floor of discussion in a way both + rambling and pointless for some time. I had spoken of the national fortune + of Indians, their superstitions, their ill-luck, and other savage subjects + various and sundry. My discourse had been remarkable perhaps for emphasis + rather than accuracy; and this too held a purpose. It was calculated to + rouse my raconteur and draw him to a story. Did what I say lack energy, he + might go to sleep in his chair; he had done this more than once when I + failed of interest. Also, if what I told were wholly true and wanting in + ripple of romantic error, even though my friend did me the compliment of + wakefulness, he would make no comment. Neither was he likely to be + provoked to any recital of counter experiences. At last, however, he gave + forth the observation which I quote above and I saw that I had brought him + out. I became at once wordless and, lighting a cigar, leaned back to + listen. + </p> + <p> + "As I observes," he resumed, following a considerable pause which I was + jealous to guard against word or question of my own; "I tells this tale to + Colonel Sterett, Old Man Enright, an' the others one time when we're + restin' from them Wolfville labours of ours an' renooin' our strength with + nosepaint in the Red Light bar. Jest as you does now, Dan Boggs takes up + this question of luck where Cherokee Hall abandons it, an' likewise the + subject of savages where Texas Thompson lays 'em down, an' after + conj'inin' the two in fashions I deems a heap weak, allows that luck is + confined strictly to the paleface; aborigines not knowin' sufficient to + become the target of vicissitoodes, excellent or otherwise. + </p> + <p> + "'Injuns is too ignorant to have what you-all calls "luck,"' says Dan. + 'That gent who's to be affected either up or down by "luck" has got to + have some mental cap'bilities. An' as Injuns don't answer sech + deescriptions, they ain't no more open to "luck" than to enlight'ment. + "Luck" an' Injuns when took together, is preepost'rous! It's like talkin' + of a sycamore tree havin' luck. Gents, it ain't in the deck!' An' tharupon + Dan seals his views by demandin' of Black Jack the bottle with glasses all + 'round. + </p> + <p> + "'When it comes to that, Boggs,' says Colonel Sterett, as he does Dan + honour in four fingers of Valley Tan, 'an' talkin' of luck, I'm yere to + offer odds that the most poignant hard-luck story on the list is the story + of Injuns as a race. An' I won't back-track their game none further than + Columbus at that. The savages may have found life a summer's dream prior + to the arrival of that Eytalian mariner an' the ornery Spainiards he + surrounds himse'f with. But from the looks of the tabs, the deal since + then has gone ag'inst 'em. The Injuns don't win once. White folks, that + a-way, is of themse'fs bad luck incarnate to Injuns. The savage never so + much as touches 'em or listens to 'em or imitates 'em, but he rots down + right thar. Which the pale-face shorely kills said Injuns on the nest! as + my old grand-dad used to say.' + </p> + <p> + "'When I recalls the finish of Hardrobe,' I remarks, sort o' cuttin' into + the argyment, the same bein' free an' open to all, 'an' I might add by way + of a gratootity in lines of proof, the finish of his boy, Bloojacket, I + inclines to string my chips with Colonel Sterett.' + </p> + <p> + "'Give us the details concernin' this Hardrobe,' says Doc Peets. 'For + myse'f, I'm prone an' eager to add to my information touchin' Injuns at + every openin'.' + </p> + <p> + "As Enright an' the rest makes expression sim'lar, I proceeds to onbuckle. + I don't claim much for the tale neither. Still, I wouldn't copper it none + for it's the trooth, an' the trooth should allers be played 'open' every + time. I'll tell you-all this Hardrobe story as I onfolds it to them." + </p> + <p> + It was here my friend began looking about with a vaguely anxious eye. I + saw his need and pressed the button. + </p> + <p> + "I was aimin' to summon my black boy, Tom," he said. + </p> + <p> + When a moment later his favourite decanter appeared in the hands of one of + the bar-boys of the hostelry, who placed it on a little table at his elbow + and withdrew, the necessity for "Tom" seemed to disappear, and recurring + to Hardrobe, he went on. + </p> + <p> + "Hardrobe is a Injun—a Osage buck an' belongs to the war clan of his + tribe. He's been eddicated East an' can read in books, an' pow-wows + American mighty near as flooent as I does myse'f. An' on that last p'int + I'll take a chance that I ain't tongue-tied neither. + </p> + <p> + "Which this yere is a long time ago. Them is days when I'm young an' lithe + an' strong. I can heft a pony an' I'm six foot two in my moccasins. No, I + ain't so tall by three inches now; old age shortens a gent up a whole lot. + </p> + <p> + "My range is on the south bank of Red River—over on the Texas side. + Across on the no'th is the Nation—what map folks call the 'Injun + Territory.' In them epocks we experiences Injuns free an' frequent, as our + drives takes us across the Nation from south to no'th the widest way. We + works over the old Jones an' Plummer trail, which thoroughfare I alloodes + to once or twice before. I drives cattle over it an' I freights over it,—me + an' my eight-mule team. An' I shorely knows where all the grass an' wood + an' water is from the Red River to the Flint Hills. + </p> + <p> + "Speakin' of the Jones an' Plummer trail, I once hears a dance-hall girl + who volunteers some songs over in a Tucson hurdygurdy, an' that maiden + sort o' dims my sights some. First, she gives us <i>The Dying Ranger</i>, + the same bein' enough of itse'f to start a sob or two; speshul when folks + is, as Colonel Sterett says, 'a leetle drinkin'.' Then when the public + clamours for more she sings something which begins: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "'Thar's many a boy who once follows the herds, + On the Jones an' Plummer trail; + Some dies of drink an' some of lead, + An' some over kyards, an' none in bed; + But they're dead game sports, so with naught but good words, + We gives 'em "Farewell an' hail."' +</pre> + <p> + "Son, this sonnet brings down mem'ries; and they so stirs me I has to <i>vamos</i> + that hurdygurdy to keep my emotions from stampedin' into tears. Shore, + thar's soft spots in me the same as in oilier gents; an' that melody + a-makin' of references to the old Jones an' Plummer days comes mighty + clost to meltin' everything about me but my guns an' spurs. + </p> + <p> + "This yere cattle business ain't what it used to be; no more is + cow-punchers. Things is gettin' effete. These day it's a case of chutes + an' brandin' pens an' wire fences an' ten-mile pastures, an' thar's so + little ropin' that a boy don't have practice enough to know how to catch + his pony. + </p> + <p> + "In the times I'm dreamin' of all this is different. I recalls how we + frequent works a month with a beef herd, say of four thousand head, out on + the stark an' open plains, ropin' an' throwin' an' runnin' a road-brand + onto 'em. Thar's a dozen different range brands in the bunch, mebby, and + we needs a road-brand common to 'em all, so in case of stampedes on our + trip to the no'th we knows our cattle ag'in an' can pick 'em out from + among the local cattle which they takes to minglin' with. It's shorely + work, markin' big strong steers that-away! Throwin' a thousand-pound + longhorn with a six hundred-pound cayouse is tellin' on all involved an' a + gent who's pitchin' his rope industrious will wear down five broncos by + sundown. + </p> + <p> + "It's a sharp winter an' cattle dies that fast they simply defies the best + efforts of ravens an' coyotes to get away with the supply. It's been + blowin' a blizzard of snow for weeks. The gales is from the no'th an' they + lashes the plains from the Bad Lands to the Rio Grande. When the storm + first prounces on the cattle up yonder in the Yellowstone country, the + he'pless beasts turns their onprotestin' tails and begins to drift. For + weeks, as I remarks, that tempest throws itse'f loose, an' night an' day, + what cattle keeps their feet an' lives, comes driftin' on. + </p> + <p> + "Nacherally the boys comes with 'em. Their winter sign-camps breaks up an' + the riders turns south with the cattle. No, they can't do nothin'; you-all + couldn't turn 'em or hold 'em or drive 'em back while the storm lasts. But + it's the dooty of the punchers to keep abreast of their brands an' be thar + the moment the blizzard abates. + </p> + <p> + "It's shore a spectacle! For a wild an' tossin' front of five hundred + miles, from west to east, the storm-beat herds comes driftin'. An' ridin' + an' sw'arin' an' plungin' about comes with 'em the boys on their broncos. + They don't have nothin' more'n the duds on their backs, an' mebby their + saddle blankets an' slickers. But they kills beef to eat as they needs it, + an' the ponies paws through the snow for grass, an' they exists along all + right. For all those snow-filled, wind-swept weeks they're ridin' an' + cussin'. They comes spatterin' through the rivers, an' swoopin' an' + whoopin' over the divides that lays between. They crosses the Heart an' + the Cannon Ball an' the Cheyenne an' the White an' the Niobrara an' the + Platte an' the Republican an' the Solomon an' the Smoky an' the Arkansaw, + to say nothin' of the hundreds of forks an' branches which flows an' + twines an' twists between; an' final, you runs up on boys along the + Canadian who's come from the Upper Missouri. An' as for cattle! it looks + like it's one onbroken herd from Fort Elliot to where the Canadian opens + into the Arkansaw! + </p> + <p> + "The chuck waggons of a thousand brands ain't two days behind the boys, + an' by no time after that blizzard simmers, thar's camp-fires burnin' an' + blinkin' between the Canadian an' the Red all along from the Choctaw + country as far west as the Panhandle. Shore, every cow-puncher makes for + the nearest smoke, feeds up an' recooperates; and then he with the others + begins the gatherin' of the cattle an' the slow northern drive of the + return. Which the spring overtakes 'em an' passes 'em on it's way to the + no'th, an' the grass is green an' deep before ever they're back on their + ranges ag'in. + </p> + <p> + "It's a great ride, says you? Son, I once attends where a lecture sharp + holds forth as to Napoleon's retreat from Moscow. As was the proper thing + I sets silent through them hardships. But I could, it I'm disposed to + become a disturbin' element or goes out to cut loose cantankerous an' + dispootatious in another gent's game, have showed him the French + experiences that Moscow time is Sunday school excursions compared with + these trips the boys makes when on the breath of that blizzard they swings + south with their herds. Them yooths, some of 'em, is over eight hundred + miles from their home-ranch; an' she's the first an' only time I ever + meets up with a Yellowstone brand on the Canadian. + </p> + <p> + "You-all can put down a bet I'm no idle an' listless looker-on that + blizzard time; an' I grows speshul active at the close. It behooves us Red + River gents of cattle to stir about. The wild hard-ridin' knight-errants + of the rope an' spur who cataracts themse'fs upon us with their driftin' + cattle doorin' said tempest looks like they're plenty cap'ble of drivin' + our steers no'th with their own, sort o' makin' up the deeficiencies of + the storm. + </p> + <p> + "I brands over four thousand calves the spring before, which means I has + at least twenty thousand head,—or five times what I brands—skallihootin' + an' hybernatin' about the ranges. An' bein' as you-all notes some strong + on cattle, an' not allowin' none for them Yellowstone adventurers to drive + any of 'em no'th, I've got about 'leven outfits at work, overhaulin' the + herds an' round-ups, an' ridin' round an' through 'em, weedin' out my + brand an' throwin' 'em back on my Red River range. I has to do it, or our + visitin' Yellowstone guests would have stole me pore as Job's turkey. + </p> + <p> + "Whatever is a 'outfit' you asks? It's a range boss, a chuck waggon with + four mules an' a range cook, two hoss hustlers to hold the ponies, eight + riders an' a bunch of about seventy ponies—say seven to a boy. These + yere 'leven outfits I speaks of is scattered east an' west mebby she's + a-hundred miles along the no'th fringe of my range, a-combin' an' + a-searchin' of the bunches an' cuttin' out all specimens of my brand when + found. For myse'f, personal, I'm cavortin' about on the loose like, + stoppin' some nights at one camp' an' some nights at another, keepin' + cases on the deal. + </p> + <p> + "It's at one of my camps one evenin' when I crosses up first with this + yere Hardrobe. His boy, Bloojacket, is with him. Hardrobe himse'f is mebby + goin' on fifty, while Bloojacket ain't more'n say twenty-one. Shore, + they're out for cattle, too; them savages has a heap of cattle, an' since + they finds their brands an' bunches same as the rest of us all tangled up + with the Yellowstone aliens doorin' the blizzard, Hardrobe an' his boy + Bloojacket rides up an' asks can they work partners with a outfit of mine. + </p> + <p> + "As I explains previous I'm averse to Injuns, but this Hardrobe is a + onusual Injun; an' as he's settin' in ag'inst a stiff game the way things + is mixed up, an' bein' only him an' his boy he's too weak to protect + himse'f, I yields consent, I yields the more pleasant for fear,—since + I drives through the Osage country now an' then—this Hardrobe an' + his heir plays even by stampedin' my cattle some evenin' if I don't. + Thar's nothin' like a dash of se'f-interest to make a gent urbane, an' so + I invites Hardrobe an' Bloojacket to make my camp their headquarters like + I'd been yearnin' for the chance. + </p> + <p> + "As you-all must have long ago tracked up on the information, it's + sooperfluous for me to su'gest that a gent gets used to things. Moreover + he gets used frequent to things that he's born with notions ag'inst; an' + them aversions will simmer an' subside ontil he's friendly with folks he + once honed to shoot on sight. It turns out that a-way about me an' this + Hardrobe an' his boy Bloojacket. What he'ps, no doubt, is they're + capar'soned like folks, with big hats, bloo shirts, trousers, + cow-laiggin's, boots an' spurs, fit an' ready to enter a civilised parlour + at the drop of the handkerchief. Ceasin' to rope for reasons, however, + it's enough to say these savages an' me waxes as thick as m'lasses. Both + of 'em's been eddicated at some Injun school which the gov'ment—allers + buckin' the impossible, the gov'ment is,—upholds in its vain + endeavours to turn red into white an' make folks of a savage. + </p> + <p> + "Bloojacket is down from the Bad Land country himself not long prior, + bein' he's been servin' his Great Father as one of Gen'ral Crook's scouts + in the Sittin' Bull campaign. This young Bloojacket,—who's bubblin' + over with sperits—has a heap of interestin' stories about the 'Grey + Fox.' It's doo to Bloojacket to say he performs them dooties of his as a + scout like a clean-strain sport, an' quits an' p'ints back for the + paternal camp of Hardrobe in high repoote. Thar's one feat of fast hard + ridin' that Injun performs, which I hears from others, an' which you-all + might not find oninterestin' if I saws it onto you. + </p> + <p> + "Merritt with three hundred cavalry marches twenty-five miles one mornin'. + Thar's forty Injun scouts along, among 'em this Bloojacket; said + copper-hued auxiliaries bein' onder the command of Gen'ral Stanton, as + game an' good a gent as ever packs a gun. It's at noon; Merritt an' his + outfit camps at the Rawhide Buttes. Thar's a courier from Crook overtakes + 'em. He says that word comes trailin' in that the Cheyennes at the Red + Cloud agency is makin' war medicine an' about to go swarmin' off to hook + up with Sittin' Bull an' Crazy Hoss in the Sioux croosades. Crook tells + Merritt to detach a band of his scouts to go flutterin' over to Red Cloud + an' take a look at the Cheyennes's hand. + </p> + <p> + "Stanton tells off four of his savages an' lines out with them for the Red + Cloud agency; Bloojacket bein' one. From the Rawhide Buttes to the Red + Cloud agency is one hundred even miles as a bullet travels. What makes it + more impressive, them one hundred miles is across a trailless country, the + same bein' as rocky as Red Dog whiskey an' rough as the life story of a + mule. Which Stanton, Bloojacket an' the others makes her in twelve hours + even, an' comes up, a crust of dust an' sweat, to the Red Cloud agency at + midnight sharp. The Cheyennes has already been gone eight hours over the + Great Northern trail. + </p> + <p> + "Stanton, who's a big body of a man an' nacherally tharfore some + road-weary, camps down the moment he's free of the stirrups an' writes a + letter on the agency steps by the light of a lantern. He tells Merritt to + push on to the War Bonnet an' he'll head the Cheyennes off. Then he sends + the Red Cloud interpreter an' four local Injuns with lead hosses to pack + this information back to Merritt who's waitin' the word at the Rawhide + Buttes. Bloojacket, for all he's done a hundred miles, declar's himse'f in + on this second excursion to show the interpreter the way. + </p> + <p> + "'But you-all won't last through,' says Stanton, where he sets on the + steps, quaffin' whiskey an' reinvig'ratin' himse'f. + </p> + <p> + "'Which if I don't, I'll turn squaw!' says Bloojacket, an' gettin' fresh + hosses with the others he goes squanderin' off into the midnight. + </p> + <p> + "Son, them savages, havin' lead hosses, rides in on Merritt by fifth drink + time or say, 'leven o'clock that mornin';—one hundred miles in + 'leven hours! An' Bloojacket some wan an' weary for a savage is a-leadin' + up the dance. Mighty fair ridin' that boy Bloojacket does! Two hundred + miles in twenty-three hours over a clost country ain't bad! Which it's me + who says so: an' one time an' another I shore shoves plenty of scenery + onder the hoofs of a cayouse myse'f. + </p> + <p> + "About the foogitive Cheyennes? Merritt moves up to the War Bonnet like + Stanton su'gests, corrals 'em, kills their ponies an' drives 'em back to + the agency on foot. Thar's nothin' so lets the whey outen a hoss-back + Injun like puttin' him a-foot: an the Cheyennes settles down in sorrow an' + peace immediate. + </p> + <p> + "While Hardrobe an' his boy Bloojacket is with me, I'm impressed + partic'lar by the love they b'ars each other. I never does cut the trail + of a father an' son who gives themse'fs up to one another like this + Hardrobe an' his Bloojacket boy. I can see that Bloojacket regyards old + Hardrobe like he's the No'th Star; an' as for Hardrobe himse'f, he can't + keep his eyes off that child of his. You'd have had his life long before + he'd let you touch a braid of Bloojacket's long ha'r. Both of 'em's plenty + handsome for Injuns; tall an' lean an' quick as coyotes, with hands an' + feet as little as a woman's. + </p> + <p> + "While I don't go pryin' 'round this Hardrobe's private affairs—savages + is mighty sensitive of sech matters—I learns, incidental, that + Hardrobe is fair rich. He's rich even for Osages; an' they're as opulent + savages as ever makes a dance or dons a feather. Later, I finds out that + Hardrobe's squaw—Bloojacket's mother—is dead. + </p> + <p> + "'See thar?' says Hardrobe one day. We're in the southern border of the + Osage country on the Grayhoss at the time, an' he p'ints to a heap of + stones piled up like a oven an' chimley, an' about four foot high. I + saveys thar's a defunct Osage inside. You-all will behold these little + piles of burial stones on every knoll an' hill in the Osage country. 'See + thar,' says this Hardrobe, p'intin'. 'That's my squaw. Mighty good squaw + once; but heap dead now.' + </p> + <p> + "Then Hardrobe an' Bloojacket rides over an' fixes a little flag they've + got in their war-bags to a pole which sticks up'ards outen this tomb, + flyin' the ensign as Injuns allers does, upside down. + </p> + <p> + "It's six months later, mebby—an' it's now the hard luck begins—when + I hears how Hardrobe weds a dance-hall girl over to Caldwell. This + maiden's white; an' as beautiful as a flower an' as wicked as a trant'ler. + Hardrobe brings her to his ranch in the Osage country. + </p> + <p> + "The next tale I gets is that Bloojacket, likewise, becomes a victim to + the p'isenous fascinations of this Caldwell dance-hall damsel, an' that + him an' Hardrobe falls out; Hardrobe goin' on the warpath an' shootin' + Bloojacket up a lot with a Winchester. He don't land the boy at that; + Bloojacket gets away with a shattered arm. Also, the word goes that + Hardrobe is still gunnin' for Bloojacket, the latter havin' gone onder + cover some'ers by virchoo of the injured pinion. + </p> + <p> + "As Colonel Sterett says, these pore aborigines experiences bad luck the + moment ever they takes to braidin' in their personal destinies with a + paleface. I don't blame 'em none neither. I sees this Caldwell seraph on + one o'casion myse'f; she's shore a beauty! an' whenever she throws the + lariat of her loveliness that a-way at a gent, she's due to fasten. + </p> + <p> + "It's a month followin' this division of the house of Hardrobe when I runs + up on him in person. I encounters him in one of the little jim-crow + restauraws you-all finds now an' then in the Injun country. Hardrobe an' + me shakes, an' then he camps down ag'in at a table where he's feedin' on + fried antelope an' bakin' powder biscuit. + </p> + <p> + "I'm standin' at the counter across the room. Jest as I turns my back, + thar's the crack! of a rifle to the r'ar of the j'int, an' Hardrobe + pitches onto the floor as dead as ever transpires in that tribe. In the + back door, with one arm in a sling, an' a gun that still smokes, ca'm an' + onmoved like Injuns allers is, stands Bloojacket. + </p> + <p> + "'My hand is forced,' he says, as he passes me his gun; 'it's him or me! + One of us wore the death-mark an' had to go.' + </p> + <p> + "'Couldn't you-all have gone with Crook ag'in?' I says. 'Which you don't + have to infest this yere stretch of country. Thar's no hobbles or + sidelines on you; none whatever!' + </p> + <p> + "Bloojacket makes no reply, an' his copper face gets expressionless an' + inscrootable. I can see through, however; an' it's the hobbles of that + Caldwell beauty's innocence that's holdin' him. + </p> + <p> + "Bloojacket walks over to where Hardrobe's layin' dead an' straightens him + round—laigs an' arms—an' places his big white cow hat over his + face. Thar's no more sign of feelin', whether love or hate, in the eyes of + Bloojacket while he performs these ceremonies than if Hardrobe's a roll of + blankets. But thar's no disrespects neither; jest a great steadiness. When + he has composed him out straight, Bloojacket looks at the remainder for + mebby a minute. Then he shakes his head. + </p> + <p> + "'He was a great man,' says Bloojacket, p'intin' at his dead father, with + his good hand; 'thar's no more like him among the Osages.' + </p> + <p> + "Tharupon Bloojacket wheels on the half-breed who runs the deadfall an' + who's standin' still an' scared, an' says: + </p> + <p> + "'How much does he owe?' Then he pays Hardrobe's charges for antelope + steaks an' what chuck goes with it, an' at the close of these fiscal + op'rations, remarks to the half-breed—who ain't sayin' no more'n he + can he'p,—'Don't touch belt nor buckle on him; you-all knows me!' + An' I can see that half-breed restauraw party is out to obey Bloojacket's + mandates. + </p> + <p> + "Bloojacket gives himse'f up to the Osages an' is thrown loose on p'role. + But Bloojacket never gets tried. + </p> + <p> + "A week rides by, an' he's standin' in front of the agency, sort o' makin' + up some views concernin' his destinies. He's all alone; though forty foot + off four Osage bucks is settin' together onder a cottonwood playin' Injun + poker—the table bein' a red blanket spread on the grass,—for + two bits a corner. These yere sports in their blankets an' feathers, an' + rifflin' their greasy deck, ain't sayin' nothin to Bloojacket an' he ain't + sayin' nothin' to them. Which jest the same these children of nacher don't + like the idee of downin' your parent none, an' it's apparent Bloojacket's + already half exiled. + </p> + <p> + "As he stands thar roominatin,' with the hot August sun beatin' down, + thar's a atmosphere of sadness to go with Bloojacket. But you-all would + have to guess at it; his countenance is as ca'm as on that murderin' + evenin' in the half-breed's restauraw. + </p> + <p> + "Bloojacket is still thar, an' the sports onder the cottonwood is still + gruntin' joyously over their poker, when thar comes the patter of a + bronco's hoofs. Thar's a small dust cloud, an' then up sweeps the Caldwell + beauty. She comes to a pull-up in front of Bloojacket. That savage glances + up with a inquirin' eye an' the glance is as steady as the hills about + him. The Caldwell beauty—it seems she disdains mournin'—is + robed like a rainbow; an' she an' Bloojacket, him standin', she on her + bronco, looks each other over plenty intent. + </p> + <p> + "Which five minutes goes by if one goes by, an' thar the two stares into + each other's eyes; an' never a word. The poker bucks keeps on with their + gamble over onder the cottonwood, an' no one looks at the two or seems + like they heeds their existence. The poker savages is onto every move; but + they're troo to the Injun idee of p'liteness an' won't interfere with even + so much as the treemor of a eyelash with other folks's plays. + </p> + <p> + "Bloojacket an' the Caldwell beauty is still gazin'. At last the Caldwell + beauty's hand goes back, an' slow an' shore, brings to the front a + eight-inch six-shooter. Bloojacket, with his eye still on her an' never a + flicker of feelin', don't speak or move. + </p> + <p> + "The Caldwell beauty smiles an' shows her white teeth. Then she lays the + gun across her left arm, an' all as solid as a church. Her pony's gone to + sleep with his nose between his knees; an' the Caldwell beauty settles + herse'f in the saddle so's to be ready for the plunge she knows is comin'. + The Caldwell beauty lays out her game as slow an' delib'rate as trees; + Bloojacket lookin' on with onwinkin' eye, while the red-blanket bucks + plays along an' never a whisper of interest. + </p> + <p> + "'Which this yere pistol overshoots a bit!' says the Caldwell beauty, as + she runs her eye along the sights. 'I must aim low or I'll shore make + ragged work.' + </p> + <p> + "Bloojacket hears her, but offers no retort; he stands moveless as a + stachoo. Thar's a flash an' a crash an' a cloud of bloo smoke; the aroused + bronco makes a standin' jump of twenty foot. The Caldwell beauty keeps her + saddle, an' with never a swerve or curve goes whirlin' away up the brown, + burnt August trail, Bloojacket lays thar on his face; an' thar's a bullet + as squar' between the eyes as you-all could set your finger-tip. Which + he's dead—dead without a motion, while the poker bucks plays ca'mly + on." + </p> + <p> + My venerable friend came to a full stop. After a respectful pause, I + ventured an inquiry. + </p> + <p> + "And the Caldwell beauty?" I said. + </p> + <p> + "It ain't a week when she's ag'in the star of that Caldwell hurdygurdy + where she ropes up Hardrobe first. Her laugh is as loud an' as' free, her + beauty as profoundly dazzlin' as before; she swings through twenty + quadrilles in a evenin' from 'Bow-to-your-partners' to + 'All-take-a-drink-at-the-bar'; an' if she's preyed on by them Osage + tragedies you shore can't tell it for whiskey, nor see if for powder an' + paint." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. Colonel Coyote Clubbs. + </h2> + <p> + "Which as a roole," said the Old Cattleman, "I speaks with deference an' + yields respects to whatever finds its source in nacher, but this yere + weather simply makes sech attitoode reedic'lous, an' any encomiums passed + thar-on would sound sarkastic." Here my friend waved a disgusted hand + towards the rain-whipped panes and shook his head. "Thar's but one way to + meet an' cope successful with a day like this," he ran on, "an' that is to + put yourse'f in the hands of a joodicious barkeep—put yourse'f in + his hands an' let him pull you through. Actin' on this idee I jest + despatches my black boy Tom for a pitcher of peach an' honey, an', onless + you-all has better plans afoot, you might as well camp an' wait + deevelopments, same as old man Wasson does when he's treed by the b'ar." + </p> + <p> + Promptly came the peach and honey, and with its appearance the pelting + storm outside lost power to annoy. My companion beamingly did me honour in + a full glass. After a moment fraught of silence and peach and honey, and + possibly, too, from some notion of pleasing my host with a compliment, I + said: "That gentleman with whom you were in converse last evening told me + he never passed a more delightful hour than he spent listening to you. You + recall whom I mean?" + </p> + <p> + "Recall him? Shore," retorted my friend as he recurred to the pitcher for + a second comforter. "You-all alloodes to the little gent who's lame in the + nigh hind laig. He appeals to me, speshul, as he puts me in mind of old + Colonel Coyote Clubbs who scares up Doc Peets that time. Old Coyote is + lame same as this yere person." + </p> + <p> + "Frighten Peets!" I exclaimed, with a great air; "you amaze me! Give me + the particulars." + </p> + <p> + "Why, of course," he replied, "I wouldn't be onderstood that Peets is + terrorised outright. Still, old Colonel Coyote shore stampedes him an' + forces Peets to fly. It's either <i>vamos</i> or shoot up pore Coyote; an' + as Peets couldn't do the latter, his only alternative is to go scatterin' + as I states. + </p> + <p> + "This yere Coyote has a camp some ten miles to the no'th an' off to one + side of the trail to Tucson. Old Coyote lives alone an' has built himse'f + a dugout—a sort o' log hut that's half in an' half outen the ground. + His mission on earth is to slay coyotes—'Wolfin'' he calls it—for + their pelts; which Coyote gets a dollar each for the furs, an' the New + York store which buys 'em tells Coyote to go as far as he likes. They + stands eager to purchase all he can peel offen them anamiles. + </p> + <p> + "No; Coyote don't shoot these yere little wolves; he p'isens 'em. Coyote + would take about twelve foot, say, of a pine tree he's cut down—this + yere timber is mebby eight inches through—an' he'll bore in it a + two-inch auger hole every two foot. These holes is some deep; about four + inches it's likely. Old Coyote mixes his p'isen with beef tallow, biles + them ingredients up together a lot, an' then, while she's melted that + a-way, he pours it into these yere auger holes an' lets it cool. It gets + good an' hard, this arsenic-tallow does, an' then Coyote drags the timber + thus reg'lated out onto the plains to what he regyards as a elegible + local'ty an' leaves it for the wolves to come an' batten on. Old Coyote + will have as many as a dozen of these sticks of timber, all bored an' + framed up with arsenic-tallow, scattered about. Each mornin' while he's + wolfin', Coyote makes a round-up an' skins an' counts up his prey. An' + son, you hear me! he does a flourishin' trade. + </p> + <p> + "Why don't Coyote p'isen hunks of meat you asks? For obvious reasons. In + sech events the victim bolts the piece of beef an' lopes off mebby five + miles before ever he succumbs. With this yere augur hole play it's + different. The wolf has to lick the arsenic-tallow out with his tongue an' + the p'isen has time an' gets in its work. That wolf sort o' withers right + thar in his tracks. At the most he ain't further away than the nearest + water; arsenic makin' 'em plenty thirsty, as you-all most likely knows. + </p> + <p> + "Old Coyote shows up in Wolfville about once a month, packin' in his pelts + an' freightin' over to his wickeyup whatever in the way of grub he reckons + he needs. Which, if you was ever to see Coyote once, you would remember + him. He's shore the most egreegious person, an' in appearance is a cross + between a joke, a disaster an' a cur'osity. I don't reckon now pore Coyote + ever sees the time when he weighs a hundred pound; an' he's grizzled an' + dried an' lame of one laig, while his face is like a squinch owl's face—kind + o' wide-eyed an' with a expression of ignorant wonder, as if life is a + never-endin' surprise party. + </p> + <p> + "Most likely now what fixes him firmest in your mind is, he don't drink + none. He declines nosepaint in every form; an' this yere abstinence, the + same bein' yoonique in Wolfville, together with Coyote conductin' himse'f + as the p'litest an' best-mannered gent to be met with in all of Arizona, + is apt to introode on your attention. Colonel Sterett once mentions + Coyote's manners. + </p> + <p> + "'Which he could give Chesterfield, Coyote could, kyards an' spades,' + observes the Colonel. I don't, myse'f, know this Chesterfield none, but I + can see by the fashion in which Colonel Sterett alloodes to him that he's + a Kaintuckian an' a jo-darter on manners an' etiquette. + </p> + <p> + "As I says, a pecooliar trait of Coyote is that he won't drink nothin' but + water. Despite this blemish, however, when the camp gets so it knows him + it can't he'p but like him a heap. He's so quiet an' honest an' ignorant + an' little an' lame, an' so plumb p'lite besides, he grows on you. I can + almost see the weasened old outlaw now as he comes rockin' into town with + his six or seven burros packed to their y'ears with pelts! + </p> + <p> + "This time when Coyote puts Doc Peets in a toomult is when he's first + pitched his dug-out camp an' begins to honour Wolfville with his visits. + As yet none of us appreciates pore Coyote at his troo worth, an' on + account of them guileless looks of his sech humourists as Dan Boggs an' + Texas Thompson seizes on him as a source of merriment. + </p> + <p> + "It's Coyote's third expedition into town, an' he's hoverin' about the New + York store waitin' for 'em to figger up his wolf pelts an' cut out his + plunder so he freights it back to his dug-out. Dan an' Texas is also + procrastinatin' 'round, an' they sidles up allowin' to have their little + jest. Old Coyote don't know none of 'em—quiet an' sober an' p'lite + like I relates, he's slow gettin' acquainted—an' Dan an' Texas, as + well as Doc Peets, is like so many onopened books to him. For that matter, + while none of them pards of mine knows Coyote, they manages to gain a + sidelight on some of his characteristics before ever they gets through. + Doc Peets later grows ashamed of the part he plays, an' two months + afterwards when Coyote is chewed an' clawed to a standstill by a + infooriated badger which he mixes himse'f up with, Peets binds him up an' + straightens out his game, an' declines all talk of recompense complete. + </p> + <p> + "'It's merely payin' for that outrage I attempts on your feelin's when you + rebookes me so handsome,' says Peets, as he turns aside Coyote's <i>dinero</i> + an' tells him to replace the same in his war-bags. + </p> + <p> + "However does Coyote get wrastled by that badger? It's another yarn, but + at least she's brief an' so I'll let you have it. Badgers, you saveys, is + sour, sullen, an' lonesome. An' a badger's feelin's is allers hurt about + something; you never meets up with him when he ain't hostile an' half-way + bent for war. Which it's the habit of these yere morose badgers to spend a + heap of their time settin' half in an' half outen their holes, considerin' + the scenery in a dissatisfied way like they has some grudge ag'inst it. + An' if you approaches a badger while thus employed he tries to run a + blazer on you; he'll show his teeth an' stand pat like he meditates + trouble. When you've come up within thirty feet he changes his mind an' + disappears back'ard into his hole; but all malignant an' reluctant. + </p> + <p> + "Now, while Coyote saveys wolves, he's a heap dark on badgers that a-way. + An' also thar's a badger who lives clost to Coyote's dug-out. One day + while this yere ill-tempered anamile is cocked up in the mouth of his + hole, a blinkin' hatefully at surroundin' objects. Coyote cuts down on him + with a Sharp's rifle he's got kickin' about his camp an' turns that weepon + loose. + </p> + <p> + "He misses the badger utter, but he don't know it none. Comin' to the + hole, Coyote sees the badger kind o' quiled up at the first bend in the + burrow, an' he exultin'ly allows he's plugged him an' tharupon reaches in + to retrieve his game. That's where Coyote makes the mistake of his c'reer; + that's where he drops his watermelon! + </p> + <p> + "That badger's alive an' onhurt an' as hot as a lady who's lost money. + Which he's simply retired a few foot into his house to reconsider Coyote + an' that Sharp's rifle of his. Nacherally when the ontaught Coyote lays + down on his face an' goes to gropin' about to fetch that badger forth the + latter never hes'tates. He grabs Coyote's hand with tooth and claw, braces + his back ag'in the ceilin' of his burrow an' stands pat. + </p> + <p> + "Badgers is big people an' strong as ponies too. An' obdurate! Son, a + badger is that decided an' set in his way that sech feather-blown things + as hills is excitable an' vacillatin' by comparison. This yere particular + badger has the fam'ly weaknesses fully deeveloped, an' the moment he + cinches onto Coyote, he shore makes up his mind never to let go ag'in in + this world nor the next. + </p> + <p> + "As I tells you, Coyote is little an' weak, an' he can no more move that + hardened badger, nor yet fetch himse'f loose, than he can sprout wings an' + soar. That badger's got Coyote; thar he holds him prone an' flat ag'in the + ground for hours. An' at last Coyote swoons away. + </p> + <p> + "Which he'd shore petered right thar, a prey to badgers, if it ain't for a + cowpuncher—he's one of Old Man Enright's riders—who comes + romancin' along an' is attracted to the spot by some cattle who's prancin' + an' waltzin' about, sizin' Coyote up as he's layin' thar, an' snortin' an' + curvin' their tails in wonder at the spectacle. Which the visitin' cow + sharp, seein' how matters is headed, shoves his six-shooter in along-side + of Coyote's arm, drills this besotted badger, an' Coyote is saved. It's a + case of touch an' go at that. But to caper back to where we leaves Dan an' + Texas on the verge of them jocyoolarities. + </p> + <p> + "'No, gentlemen,' Coyote is sayin', in response to some queries of Dan an' + Texas; 'I've wandered hither an' yon a heap in my time, an' now I has my + dug-out done, an' seein' wolves is oncommon plenty, I allows I puts in + what few declinin' days remains to me right where I be. I must say, too, + I'm pleased with Wolfville an' regyards myse'f as fortunate an' proud to + be a neighbour to sech excellent folks as you-all." + </p> + <p> + "'Which I'm shore sorry a lot,' says Dan, 'to hear you speak as you does. + Thar's a rapacious sport about yere who the instant he finds how you makes + them dug-out improvements sends on an' wins out a gov'ment patent an' + takes title to that identical quarter-section which embraces your camp. + Now he's allowin' to go squanderin' over to Tucson an' get a docyment or + two from the jedge an' run you out.' + </p> + <p> + "Son, this pore innocent Coyote takes in Dan's fictions like so much + spring water; he believes 'em utter. But the wonder is to see how he + changes. He don't say nothin', but his-eyes sort o' sparks up an' his face + gets as gray as his ha'r. It's now that Doc Peets comes along. + </p> + <p> + "'Yere is this devourin' scoundrel now,' says Texas Thompson, p'intin' to + Peets. 'You-all had better talk to him some about it.' Then turnin' to + Peets with a wink, Texas goes on: 'Me an' Mister Boggs is tellin' our + friend how you gets a title to that land he's camped on, an' that you + allows you'll take possession mebby next week.' + </p> + <p> + "'Why, shore,' says Peets, enterin' into the sperit of the hoax, an' + deemin' it a splendid joke; 'be you-all the maverick who's on that + quarter-section of mine?' + </p> + <p> + "'Which I'm Colonel Coyote Clubbs,' says Coyote, bowin' low while his lips + trembles, 'an' I'm at your service.' + </p> + <p> + "'Well,' says Peets, 'it don't make much difference about your name, all + you has to do is hit the trail. I needs that location you've done squatted + on because of the water.' + </p> + <p> + "'An' do I onderstand, sir,' says Coyote some agitated, 'that you'll come + with off'cers to put me outen my dug-out?' + </p> + <p> + "'Shore,' says Peets, in a case-hardened, pitiless tone, 'an' why not? Am + I to be debarred of my rights by some coyote-slaughterin' invader an' + onmurmurin'ly accede tharto? Which I should shore say otherwise.' + </p> + <p> + "'Then I yereby warns you, sir,' says Coyote, gettin' pale as paper. 'I + advises you to bring your coffin when you comes for that land, for I'll + down you the moment you're in range.' + </p> + <p> + "'In which case,' says Peets, assoomin' airs of blood-thirsty + trucyoolence, 'thar's scant use to wait. If thar's goin' to be any powder + burnin' we might better burn it now.' + </p> + <p> + "'I've no weepon, sir,' says Coyote, limpin' about in a circle, 'but if + ary of these gentlemen will favour me with a gun I'll admire to put myse'f + in your way.' + </p> + <p> + "Which the appearance of Coyote when he utters this, an' him showin' on + the surface about as war-like as a prairie-dog, convulses Dan an' Texas. + It's all they can do to keep a grave front while pore Coyote in his + ignorance calls the bluff of one of the most deadly an' gamest gents who + ever crosses the Missouri—one who for nerve an' finish is a even + break with Cherokee Hall. + </p> + <p> + "'Follow me,' says Peets, frownin' on Coyote like a thunder cloud; 'I'll + equip you with a weepon myse'f. I reckons now that your death an' + deestruction that a-way is after all the best trail out. + </p> + <p> + "Peets moves off a heap haughty, an' Coyote limps after him. Peets goes + over where his rooms is at. 'Take a cha'r,' says Peets, as they walks in, + an' Coyote camps down stiffly in a seat. Peets crosses to a rack an' + searches down a 8-inch Colt's. Then he turns towards Coyote. 'This yere + discovery annoys me,' says Peets, an' his words comes cold as ice, 'but + now we're assembled, I finds that I've only got one gun.' + </p> + <p> + "'Well, sir,' says Coyote, gettin' up an' limpin' about in his nervous + way, his face workin' an' the sparks in his eyes beginnin' to leap into + flames; 'well, sir, may I ask what you aims to propose?' + </p> + <p> + "'I proposes to beef you right yere,' says Peets, as f'rocious as a + grizzly. 'Die, you miscreant!' An' Peets throws the gun on Coyote, the big + muzzle not a foot from his heart. + </p> + <p> + "Peets, as well as Dan an' Texas, who's enjoyin' the comedy through a + window, ondoubted looks for Coyote to wilt without a sigh. An' if he had + done so, the joke would have been both excellent an' complete. But Coyote + never wilts. He moves so quick no one ever does locate the darkened recess + of his garments from which he lugs out that knife; the first p'inter any + of 'em gets is that with the same breath wherein Peets puts the + six-shooter on him, Coyote's organised in full with a bowie. + </p> + <p> + "'Make a centre shot, you villyun!' roars Coyote, an' straight as adders + he la'nches himse'f at Peets's neck. + </p> + <p> + "Son, it's the first an' last time that Doc Peets ever runs. An' he don't + run now, he flies. Peets comes pourin' through the door an' into the + street, with Coyote frothin' after him not a yard to spar'. The best thing + about the whole play is that Coyote's a cripple; it's this yere element of + lameness that lets Peets out. He can run thirty foot to Coyote's one, an' + the result occurs in safety by the breadth of a ha'r. + </p> + <p> + "It takes two hours to explain to Coyote that this eepisode is humour, an' + to ca'm him an' get his emotions bedded down. At last, yoonited Wolfville + succeeds in beatin' the trooth into him, an' he permits Peets to approach + an' apol'gise. + </p> + <p> + "'An' you can gamble all the wolves you'll ever kill an' skin,' says Doc + Peets, as he asks Coyote to forgive an' forget, 'that this yere is the + last time I embarks in jests of a practical character or gives way to + humour other than the strickly oral kind. Barkeep, my venerated friend, + yere will have a glass of water; but you give me Valley Tan.'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. Long Ago on the Rio Grande. + </h2> + <p> + "Which books that a-way," observed the Old Cattleman, "that is, + story-books, is onfrequent in Wolfville." He was curiously examining + Stevenson's "Treasure Island," that he had taken from my hand. "The + nearest approach to a Wolfville cirk'latin' library I recalls is a copy of + 'Robinson Crusoe,' an' that don't last long, as one time when Texas + Thompson leaves it layin' on a cha'r outside while he enters the Red Light + for the usual purpose, a burro who's loafin' loose about the street, + smells it, tastes it, approoves of it, an' tharupon devours it a heap. + After that I don't notice no volumes in the outfit, onless it's some drug + books that Doc Peets has hived over where he camps. It's jest as well, for + seein' a gent perusin' a book that a-way, operates frequent to make Dan + Boggs gloomy; him bein' oneddicated like I imparts to you-all yeretofore. + </p> + <p> + "Whatever do we do for amoosements? We visits the Dance Hall; not to + dance, sech frivol'ties bein' for younger an' less dignified sports. We + goes over thar more to give our countenance an' endorsements to Hamilton + who runs the hurdy-gurdy, an' who's a mighty proper citizen. We says + 'How!' to Hamilton, libates, an' mebby watches 'em 'balance all,' or + 'swing your partners,' a minute or two an' then proceeds. Then thar's + Huggins's Bird Cage Op'ry House, an' now an' then we-all floats over thar + an' takes in the dramy. But mostly we camps about the Red Light; the same + bein' a common stampin'-ground. It's thar we find each other; an' when + thar's nothin' doin', we upholds the hours tellin' tales an' gossipin' + about cattle an' killin's, an' other topics common to a cow country. Now + an' then, thar's a visitin' gent in town who can onfold a story. In sech + event he's made a lot of, an' becomes promptly the star of the evenin'. + </p> + <p> + "Thar's a Major Sayres we meets up with once in Wolfville,—he's thar + on cattle matters with old man Enright—an' I recalls how he grows + absorbin' touchin' some of his adventures in that War. + </p> + <p> + "Thar's a passel of us, consistin' of Boggs, Tutt, Cherokee, an' Texas + Thompson, an' me, who's projectin' 'round the Red Light when Enright + introdooces this Major Sayres. Him an' Enright's been chargin' about over + by the Cow Springs an' has jest rode in. This Major is easy an' friendly, + an' it ain't longer than the third drink before he shows symptoms of bein' + willin' to talk. + </p> + <p> + "'Which I ain't been in the saddle so long,' says the Major, while him an' + Enright is considerin' how far they goes since sunup, 'since Mister Lee + surrenders.' + </p> + <p> + "'You takes your part, Major,' says Enright, who's ropin' for a + reminiscence that a-way, 'in the battles of the late war, I believes.' + </p> + <p> + "'I should shorely say so,' says the Major. 'I'm twenty-two years old, + come next grass, when Texas asserts herse'f as part of the confed'racy, + an' I picks up a hand an' plays it in common with the other patriotic + yooths of my region. Yes, I enters the artillery, but bein' as we don't + have no cannon none at the jump I gets detailed as a aide ontil something + resemblin' a battery comes pokin' along. I goes through that carnage from + soup to nuts, an' while I'm shot up some as days go by, it's allers been a + source of felic'tation to me, personal, that I never slays no man myse'f. + Shore, I orders my battery to fire, later when I gets a battery; an' + ondoubted the bombardments I inaug'rates adds to an' swells the ghost + census right along. But of my own hand it's ever been a matter of + congratoolations to me that I don't down nobody an' never takes a skelp. + </p> + <p> + "'As I turns the leaves of days that's gone I don't now remember but one + individyooal openin' for blood that ever presents itse'f. An' after + considerin' the case in all its b'arin's, I refooses the opportunity an' + the chance goes glidin' by. As a result thar's probably one more Yank than + otherwise; an' now that peace is yere an' we-all is earnestly settlin' to + be brothers No'th and South, I regyards that extra Yank as a advantage. + Shore, he's a commoonal asset.' + </p> + <p> + "'Tell us how you fails to c'llect this Yankee, Major,' says Faro Nell: + 'which I'm plumb interested every time that some one don't get killed.' + </p> + <p> + "'I reecounts that exploit with pleasure,' says, the Major, bowin' p'lite + as Noo Orleans first circles an' touchin' his hat to Nell. 'It's one day + when we're in a fight. The line of battle is mebby stretched out half a + mile. As I su'gests, I'm spraddlin' 'round permiscus with no stated arena + of effort, carryin' despatches an' turnin' in at anything that offers, as + handy as I can. I'm sent final with a dispatch from the left to the + extreme right of our lines. + </p> + <p> + "'When we goes into this skrimmage we jumps the Lincoln people somewhat + onexpected. They has their blankets an' knapsacks on, an' as they frames + themse'fs up for the struggle they casts off this yere baggage, an' thar + it lays, a windrow of knapsacks, blankets an' haversacks, mighty near a + half mile in length across the plain. As we-all rebs has been pushin' the + Yankees back a lot, this windrow is now to our r'ar, an' I goes canterin' + along it on my mission to the far right. + </p> + <p> + "'Without a word of warnin' a Yank leaps up from where he's been burrowin' + down among this plunder an' snaps a Enfield rifle in my face. I pulls my + boss back so he's almost settin' on his hocks; an' between us, gents, that + onexpected sortie comes mighty near surprisin' me plumb out of the saddle. + But the Enfield don't go off none; an' with that the Yank throws her down + an' starts to' run. He shorely does <i>vamos</i> with the velocity of + jackrabbits! + </p> + <p> + "'As soon as me an' my hoss recovers our composure we gives chase. Bein' + the pore Yank is afoot, I runs onto him in the first two hundred yards. As + I comes up, I've got my six-shooter in my hand. I puts the muzzle on him, + sort o' p'intin' between the shoulders for gen'ral results; but when it + comes to onhookin' my weepon I jest can't turn the trick. It's too much + like murder. Meanwhile, the flyin' Yank is stampedin' along like he ain't + got a thing on his mind an' never turnin' his head. + </p> + <p> + "'I calls on him to surrender. He makes a roode remark over his shoulder + at this military manoover an' pelts ahead all onabated. Then I evolves a + scheme to whack him on the head with my gun. I pushes my hoss up ontil his + nose is right by that No'thern party's y'ear. Steadyin' myse'f, I makes a + wallop at him an' misses. I invests so much soul in the blow that missin' + that a-way, I comes within' a ace of clubs of goin' off my hoss an' onto + my head. An' still that exasperatin' Yank goes rackin' along, an' if + anything some faster than before. At that I begins to lose my temper + ag'in. + </p> + <p> + "'I reorganises,—for at the time I nearly makes the dive outen the + stirrups, I pulls the hoss to a stop,—an' once more takes up the + pursoot of my locoed prey. He's a pris'ner fair enough, only he's too + obstinate to admit it. As I closes on him ag'in, I starts for the second + time to drill him, but I can't make the landin'. I'm too young; my heart + ain't hard enough; I rides along by him for a bit an' for the second time + su'gests that he surrender. The Yank ignores me; he keeps on runnin'. + </p> + <p> + "'Which sech conduct baffles me! It's absolootely ag'in military law. By + every roole of the game that Yank's my captive; but defyin' restraint he + goes caperin' on like he's free. + </p> + <p> + "'As I gallops along about four foot to his r'ar I confess I begins to + feel a heap he'pless about him. I'm too tender to shoot, an' he won't + stop, an' thar we be. + </p> + <p> + "'While I'm keepin' him company on this retreat, I reflects that even if I + downs him, the war would go on jest the same; it wouldn't stop the + rebellion none, nor gain the South her independence. The more I considers, + too, the war looks bigger an' the life of this flyin' Yank looks smaller. + Likewise, it occurs to me that he's headed no'th. If he keeps up his gait + an' don't turn or twist he'll have quitted Southern territory by the end + of the week. + </p> + <p> + "'After makin' a complete round-up of the sityooation I begins to lose + interest in this Yank; an' at last I leaves him, racin' along alone. By + way of stim'lant, as I pauses I cracks off a couple of loads outen my + six-shooter into the air. They has a excellent effect; from the jump the + Yank makes at the sound I can see the shots puts ten miles more run into + him shore. He keeps up his gallop ontil he's out of sight, an' I never + after feasts my eyes on him. + </p> + <p> + "'Which I regyards your conduct, Major, as mighty hoomane,' says Dan + Boggs, raisin' his glass p'litely. 'I approves of it, partic'lar.' + </p> + <p> + "The Major meets Dan's attentions in the sperit they're proposed. After a + moment Enright speaks of them cannons. + </p> + <p> + "But you-all got a battery final, Major?' says Enright. + </p> + <p> + "'Six brass guns,' says the Major, an' his gray eyes beams an' he speaks + of 'em like they was six beautiful women. 'Six brass guns, they be,' he + says. We captured 'em from the enemy an' I'm put in command. Gents, I've + witnessed some successes personal, but I never sees the day when I'm as + satisfied an' as contentedly proud as when I finds myse'f in command of + them six brass guns. I was like a lover to every one of 'em. + </p> + <p> + "'I'm that headlong to get action—we're in middle Loosiana at the + time—that I hauls a couple of 'em over by the Mississippi an' goes + prowlin' 'round ontil I pulls on trouble with a little Yankee gun boat. It + lasts two hours, an' I shore sinks that naval outfit an' piles the old + Mississippi on top of 'em. I'm so puffed up with this yere exploit that a + pigeon looks all sunk in an' consumptif beside me. + </p> + <p> + "'Thar's one feacher of this dooel with the little gun boat which + displeases me, however. Old Butler's got Noo Orleans at the time, an' + among other things he's editin' the papers. I reads in one of 'em a month + later about me sinkin' that scow. It says I'm a barb'rous villain, the + story does, an' shoots up the boat after it surrenders, an' old Butler + allows he'll hang me a whole lot the moment ever he gets them remarkable + eyes onto me. I don't care none at the time much, only I resents this yere + charge. I shore never fires a shot at that gunboat after it gives up; I + ain't so opulent of amm'nition as all that. As time goes on, however, + thar's a day when I'm goin' to take the determination of old Butler more + to heart. + </p> + <p> + "'Followin' the gun-boat eepisode I'm more locoed than ever to get my + battery into a fight. An' at last I has my hopes entirely fulfilled. It's + about four o'clock one evenin' when we caroms on about three brigades of + Yanks. Thar's mebby twelve thousand of us rebs an' all of fourteen + thousand of the Lincoln people. My battery is all the big guns we-all has, + while said Yanks is strong with six full batteries. + </p> + <p> + "'The battle opens up; we're on a old sugar plantation, an' after + manooverin' about a while we settles down to work. It's that day I has my + dreams of carnage realised in full. I turns loose my six guns with verve + an' fervour, an' it ain't time for a second drink before I attracts the + warmest attention from every one of the Yankee batteries. She's shore a + scandal the way them gents in bloo does shoot me up! Jest to give you-all + a idee: the Yankees slams away at me for twenty minutes; they dismounts + two of my guns; they kills or creases forty of my sixty-six men; an' when + they gets through you-all could plant cotton where my battery stands, it's + that ploughed up. + </p> + <p> + "'It's in the midst of the <i>baile</i>, an' I'm standin' near my + number-one gun. Thar's a man comes up with a cartridge. A piece of a shell + t'ars him open, an' he falls across the gun, limp as a towel, an' then + onto the ground. I orders a party named Williams to the place. Something + comes flyin' down outen the heavens above an' smites Williams on top the + head; an' he's gone. I orders up another. He assoomes the responsibilities + of this p'sition jest in time to get a rifle bullet through the jaw. He + lives though; I sees him after the war. + </p> + <p> + "'As that's no more men for the place, I steps for'ard myse'f. I'm not + thar a minute when I sinks down to the ground. I don't feel nothin' an' + can't make it out. + </p> + <p> + "'While I'm revolvin' this yere phenomenon of me wiltin' that a-way an' + tryin to form some opinions about it, thar's a explosion like forty + battles all in one. For a moment, I reckons that somehow we-all has opened + up a volcano inadvertent, an' that from now on Loosiana can boast a Hecla + of her own. But it ain't no volcano. It's my ammunition waggons which, + with two thousund rounds is standin' about one hundred yards to my r'ar. + The Yanks done blows up the whole outfit with one of their shells. + </p> + <p> + "'It's strictly the thing, however, which lets my battery out. The thick + smoke of the two thousand cartridges drifts down an' blankets what's left + of us like a fog. The Yanks quits us; they allows most likely they've + lifted me an' my six brass guns plumb off the earth. Thar's some + roodiments of trooth in the theery for that matter. + </p> + <p> + "'These last interestin' details sort o' all happens at once. I've jest + dropped at the time when my ammunition waggons enters into the sperit of + the o'casion like I describes. As I lays thar one of my men comes gropin' + along down to me in the smoke. + </p> + <p> + "'"Be you hurt, Major?" he says. + </p> + <p> + "'"I don't know," I replies: "my idee is that you better investigate an' + see." + </p> + <p> + "'He t'ars open my coat; thar's no blood on my shirt. He lifts one arm an' + then the other; they're sound as gold pieces. Then I lifts up my left + laig; I've got on high hoss-man boots. + </p> + <p> + "'"Pull off this moccasin," I says. + </p> + <p> + "'He pulls her off an' thar's nothin' the matter thar. I breaks out into a + profoose sweat; gents, I'm scared speechless. I begins to fear I ain't + plugged at all; that I've fainted away on a field of battle an' doo to + become the scandal of two armies. I never feels so weak an' sick! + </p> + <p> + "'I've got one chance left an' trembles as I plays it; I lifts up my right + boot. I win; about a quart of blood runs out. Talk of reprievin' folks + who's sentenced to death! Gents, their emotions is only imitations of what + I feels when I finds that the Yanks done got me an' nary doubt. It's all + right—a rifle bullet through my ankle! + </p> + <p> + "'That night I'm mowed away, with twenty other wounded folks, in a little + cabin off to one side, an' thar's a couple of doctors sizin' up my laig. + </p> + <p> + "'"Joe," says one, that a-way, "we've got to cut it off." + </p> + <p> + "'But I votes "no" emphatic; I'm too young to talk about goin shy a laig. + With that they ties it up as well as ever they can, warnin' me meanwhile + that I've got about one chance in a score to beat the game. Then they + imparts a piece of news that's a mighty sight worse than my laig. + </p> + <p> + "'"Joe," says this doctor, when he's got me bandaged, "our army's got to + rustle out of yere a whole lot. She's on the retreat right now. Them Yanks + outheld us an' out-played us an' we've got to go stampedin'. The worst is, + thar's no way to take you along, an' we'll have to leave you behind." + </p> + <p> + "'"Then the Yanks will corral me?" I asks. + </p> + <p> + "'"Shore," he replies, "but thar's nothin' else for it." + </p> + <p> + "'It's then it comes on me about that gunboat an' the promises old Butler + makes himse'f about hangin' me when caught. Which these yere reflections + infooses new life into me. I makes the doctor who's talkin' go rummagin' + about ontil he rounds up a old nigger daddy, a mule an' a two-wheel sugar + kyart. It's rainin' by now so's you-all could stand an' wash your face an' + hands in it. As that medical sharp loads me in, he gives me a bottle of + this yere morphine, an' between jolts an' groans I feeds on said drug + until mornin.' + </p> + <p> + "'That old black daddy is dead game. He drives me all night an' all day + an' all night ag'n, an' I'm in Shreveport; my ankle's about the size of a + bale of cotton. Thar's one ray through it all, however; I misses meetin' + old man Butler an' I looks on that as a triumph which shore borders on + relief.' + </p> + <p> + "'An' I reckons now,' says Dan Boggs, 'you severs your relations with the + war?' + </p> + <p> + "'No,' goes on the Major; 'I keeps up my voylence to the close. When I + grows robust enough to ride ag'in I'm in Texas. Thar's a expedition + fittin' out to invade an' subdoo Noo Mexico, an' I j'ines dogs with it as + chief of the big guns. Thar's thirty-eight hundred bold and buoyant + sperits rides outen Austin on these military experiments we plans, an' as + evincin' the luck we has, I need only to p'int out that nine months later + we returns with a scant eight hundred. Three thousand of 'em killed, + wounded an' missin' shows that efforts to list the trip onder the head of + "picnics" would be irony. + </p> + <p> + "'Comin', as we-all does, from one thousand miles away, thar ain't one of + us who saveys, practical, as much about the sand-blown desert regions we + invades as we does of what goes on in the moon. That Gen'ral Canby, who + later gets downed by the Modocs, is on the Rio Grande at Fort Craig. While + we're pirootin' about in a blind sort o' fashion we ropes up one of + Canby's couriers who's p'intin' no'th for Fort Union with despatches. This + Gen'ral Canby makes the followin' facetious alloosion: After mentionin' + our oninvited presence in the territory, he says: + </p> + <p> + "'"But let 'em alone. We'll dig the potatoes when they're ripe." + </p> + <p> + "'Gents, we was the toobers!' An' yere the Major pauses for a drink. 'We + was the potatoes which Canby's exultin' over! We don't onderstand it at + the time, but it gets cl'arer as the days drifts by. + </p> + <p> + "'I'm never in a more desolate stretch of what would be timber only thar + ain't no trees. Thar's nothin' for the mules an' hosses; half the time + thar ain't even water. An' then it's alkali. An' our days teems an' + staggers with disgustin' experiences. Once we're shy water two days. It's + the third day about fourth drink time in the evenin'. The sun has two + hours yet to go. My battery is toilin' along, sand to the hubs of + gun-carriages an' caissons, when I sees the mules p'int their y'ears + for'ard with looks of happy surprise. Then the intelligent anamiles begins + a song of praise; an' next while we-all is marvellin' thereat an' before + ever a gent can stretch hand to bridle to stop 'em, the mules begins to + fly. They yanks my field pieces over the desert as busy an' full of + patriotic ardour as a drunkard on 'lection day. The whole battery runs + away. Gents, the mules smells water. It's two miles away,—a big pond + she is,—an' that locoed battery never stops, but rushes plumb in + over its y'ears; an' I lose sixteen mules an' two guns before ever I'm + safe ag'in on terry firmy. + </p> + <p> + "'It's shore remarkable,' exclaims the Major, settin' down his glass, 'how + time softens the view an' changes bitter to sweet that a-way. As I brings + before me in review said details thar's nothin' more harassin' from soda + to hock than that campaign on the Rio Grande. Thar's not one ray of + sunshine to paint a streak of gold in the picture from frame to frame; all + is dark an' gloom an' death. An' yet, lookin' back'ard through the years, + the mem'ry of it is pleasant an' refreshing a heap more so than + enterprises of greater ease with success instead of failure for the + finish. + </p> + <p> + "'Thar's one partic'lar incident of this explorin' expeditions into Noo + Mexico which never recurs to my mind without leavin' my eyes some dim. I + don't claim to be no expert on pathos an' I'm far from regyardin' myse'f + as a sharp on tears, but thar's folks who sort o' makes sadness a + speshulty, women folks lots of 'em, who allows that what I'm about to + recount possesses pecooliar elements of sorrow. + </p> + <p> + "'Thar's a young captain—he ain't more'n a boy—who's brought a + troop of lancers along with us. This boy Captain hails from some'ers up + 'round Waco, an' thar ain't a handsomer or braver in all Pres'dent Davis's + army. This Captain—whose name is Edson,—an' me, bein' we-all + is both young, works ourse'fs into a clost friendship for each other; I + feels about him like he's my brother. Nacherally, over a camp fire an' + mebby a stray bottle an' a piece of roast antelope, him an' me confides + about ourse'fs. This Captain Edson back in Waco has got a old widow mother + who's some rich for Texas, an' also thar's a sweetheart he aims to marry + when the war's over an' done. I reckons him an' me talks of that mother + an' sweetheart of his a hundred times. + </p> + <p> + "'It falls out that where we fords the Pecos we runs up on a Mexican Plaza—the + "Plaza Chico" they-all calls it—an' we camps thar by the river a + week, givin' our cattle a chance to roll an' recooperate up on the grass + an' water. + </p> + <p> + "'Then we goes p'intin' out for the settin' sun ag'in, allowin' to strike + the Rio Grande some'ers below Albuquerque. Captain Edson, while we're + pesterin' 'round at the Plaza Chico, attaches to his retinoo a Mexican + boy; an' as our boogles begins to sing an' we lines out for that west'ard + push, this yere boy rides along with Edson an' the lancers. + </p> + <p> + "'Our old war chief who has charge of our wanderin's is strictly stern an' + hard. An' I reckons now he's the last gent to go makin' soft allowances + for any warmth of yooth, or puttin' up with any primrose paths of gentle + dalliance, of any an' all who ever buckles on a set of side arms. It thus + befalls that when he discovers on the mornin' of the second day that this + Mexican boy is a Mexican girl, he goes ragin' into the ambient air like a + eagle. + </p> + <p> + "'The Old Man claps Edson onder arrest an' commands the girl to saddle up + an' go streakin' for the Plaza Chico. As it's only a slow day's march an' + as these Mexicans knows the country like a coyote, it's a cinch the girl + meets no harm an' runs no resks. But it serves to plant the thorns of + wrath in the heart of Captain Edson. + </p> + <p> + "'The Old Man makes him loose an' gives him back his lancers before ever + we rides half a day, but it don't work no mollifications with the young + Captain. He offers no remarks, bein' too good a soldier; but he never + speaks to the Old Man no more, except it's business. + </p> + <p> + "'"Joe," he says to me, as we rides along, or mebby after we're in camp at + night, "I'll never go back to Texas. I've been disgraced at the head of my + troop an' I'll take no sech record home." + </p> + <p> + "'"You oughter not talk that a-way, Ed," I'd say, tryin' to get his + sensibilities smoothed down. "If you don't care none for yourse'f or for + your footure, you-all should remember thar's something comin' to the loved + ones at home. Moreover, it's weak sayin' you-all ain't goin' back to + Texas. How be you goin' to he'p it, onless you piles up shore-enough + disgrace by desertin' them lancers of yours?" + </p> + <p> + "'"Which if we has the luck," says this Captain Edson, "to cross up with + any Yanks who's capable of aimin' low an' shootin' half way troo, I'll + find a way to dodge that goin' back without desertin'." + </p> + <p> + "'No, I don't make no argyments with him; it's hopeless talkin' to a gent + who's melancholly an' who's pride's been jarred; thar's nothing but time + can fix things up for him. An' I allers allows that this boy Captain would + have emerged from the clouds eventooal, only it happens he don't get the + time. His chance comes too soon; an' he shore plays it desperate. + </p> + <p> + "'Our first offishul act after reachin' the Rio Grande is to lay for a + passel of Yank cavalry—thar's two thousand of 'em I reckons. We + rides up on these yere lively persons as we sounds a halt for the evenin'. + It looks like our boogles is a summons, for they comes buttin' into view + through a dry arroya an' out onto the wide green bottoms of the Rio Grande + at the first call. They're about a mile away, an' at sight of us they + begins in a fashion of idle indifference to throw out a line of battle. + They fights on foot, them bloo folks do; dismounting with every fourth man + to hold the hosses. They displays a heap of insolence for nothin' but + cavalry an' no big guns; but as they fights like infantry an' is armed + with Spencer seven-shooters besides, the play ain't so owdacious neither. + </p> + <p> + "'Thar's mebby a hour of sun an' I'm feelin' mighty surly as I gets my + battery into line. I'm disgusted to think we've got to fight for our + night's camp, an' swearin' to myse'f in a low tone, so's not to set + profane examples to my men, at the idee that these yere Yanks is that + preecip'tate they can't wait till mornin' for their war-jig. But I can't + he'p myse'f. That proverb about it takin' two to make a fight is all a + bluff. It only takes one to make a fight. As far as we-all rebs is + concerned that evenin' we ain't honin' for trouble, leastwise, not ontil + mornin'; but them inordinate Yanks will have it, an' thar you be. The + fight can't be postponed. + </p> + <p> + "'Thar's no tumblin' hurry about how any of us goes to work. Both sides + has got old at the game an' war ain't the novelty she is once. The Yanks + is takin' their p'sition, an' we're locatin' our lines an' all as ca'mly + an' with no more excitement than if it's dress p'rade. The Yanks is from + Colorado. My sergeant speaks of 'em to me the next day an' gives his + opinion touchin' their merits. + </p> + <p> + "'"Where did you say them Yankees comes from, Major?" says my serjeant. + </p> + <p> + "'"Colorado," I replies. + </p> + <p> + "'"Which thar's about thirty minutes last evenin'," says my serjeant, + "when I shorely thinks they're recrooted in hell," an' my serjeant shakes + his head. + </p> + <p> + "'While I'm linin' up my battery mighty discontented an' disgruntled, an + orderly pulls my sleeve. + </p> + <p> + "'"Look thar, Major!" he says. + </p> + <p> + "'I turns, an' thar over on our right, all alone, goes Captain Edson an' + his lancers. Without waiting an' without commands, Captain Edson has his + boogler sound a charge; an' thar goes the lancers stampedin' along like + they're a army corps an' cap'ble of sweepin' the two thousand cool an' + c'llected Yankees off the Rio Grande. + </p> + <p> + "'For a moment all we does is stand an' look; the surprise of it leaves no + idee of action. The lancers swings across the grassy levels. Thar's not a + shot fired; Edson's people ain't got nothin' but them reedic'lous spears, + an' the Yanks, who seems to know it, stands like the rest of us without + firin' an' watches 'em come. It's like a picture, with the thin bright air + an' the settin' sun shinin' sideways over the gray line of mountains fifty + miles to the west. + </p> + <p> + "'I never sees folks more placid than the Yanks an' at the same time so + plumb alert. Mountain lions is lethargic to 'em. When Captain Edson an' + his lancers charges into 'em the Yanks opens right an' left, each sharp of + 'em gettin' outen the way of that partic'lar lancer who's tryin' to spear + him; but all in a steady, onruffled fashion that's as threatenin' as it is + excellent. The lancers, with Captain Edson, goes through, full charge, + twenty rods to the r'ar of the Yankee line. An', gents, never a man comes + back. + </p> + <p> + "'As Edson an' his troop goes through, the Yanks turns an' opens on 'em. + The voices of the Spencers sounds like the long roll of a drum. Hoss an' + man goes down, dead an' wounded; never a gent of 'em all rides back + through that awful Yankee line. Pore Edson shore has his wish; he's cut + the trail of folks who's cap'ble of aimin' low an' shootin' half way troo. + </p> + <p> + "'These sperited moves I've been relatin' don't take no time in the doin'. + The hairbrain play of Captain Edson forces our hands. The Old Man orders a + charge, an' we pushes the Yanks back onto their hosses an' rescoos what's + left of Edson an' his lancers. After skirmishin' a little the Yanks draws + away an' leaves us alone on the field. They earns the encomiums of my + serjeant, though, before ever they decides to <i>vamos</i>. + </p> + <p> + "'Edson's been shot hard and frequent; thar's no chance for him. He looks + up at me, when we're bringin' him off, an' says: + </p> + <p> + "'"Joe," an' he smiles an' squeezes my hand, while his tones is plenty + feeble, "Joe, you notes don't you that while I ain't goin' back to Texas, + I don't have to desert." + </p> + <p> + "'That night we beds down our boy Captain in a sol'tary Mexican 'doby. + He's layin' on a pile of blankets clost by the door while the moon shines + down an' makes things light as noonday. He's been talkin' to me an' givin' + me messages for his mother an' the rest of his outfit at Waco, an' I + promises to carry 'em safe an' deliver 'em when I rides in ag'in on good + old Texas. Then he wants his mare brought up where he can pet her muzzle + an' say <i>Adios</i> to her. + </p> + <p> + "'"For, Joe," he says, "I'm doo to go at once now, an' my days is down to + minutes." + </p> + <p> + "'"The medicine man, Ed," I says, "tells me that you-all has hours to + live." + </p> + <p> + "'"But, Joe," he replies, "I knows. I'm a mighty good prophet you recalls + about my not goin' back, an' you can gamble I'm not makin' any mistakes + now. It's down to minutes, I tells you, an' I wants to see my mare." + </p> + <p> + "'Which the mare is brought up an' stands thar with her velvet nose in his + face; her name's "Ruth," after Edson's sweetheart. The mare is as splendid + as a picture; pure blood, an' her speed an' bottom is the wonder of the + army. Usual a hoss is locoed by the smell of blood, but it don't stampede + this Ruth; an' she stays thar with him as still an' tender as a woman, an' + with all the sorrow in her heart of folks. As Edson rubs her nose with his + weak hand an' pets her, he asks me to take this Ruth back to his + sweetheart with all his love. + </p> + <p> + "'"Which now I'm goin'," he whispers, "no one's to mention that eepisode + of the Pecos an' the little Mexican girl of Plaza Chico!" + </p> + <p> + "'Edson is still a moment; an' then after sayin' "Good-by," he lets on + that he desires me to leave him alone with the mare. + </p> + <p> + "'"I'll give Ruth yere a kiss an' a extra message for my sweetheart," he + says, "an' then I'll sleep some." + </p> + <p> + "'I camps down outside the 'doby an' looks up at the moon an' begins to + let my own thoughts go grazin' off towards Texas. It's perhaps a minute + when thar's the quick <i>crack</i>! of a six-shooter, an' the mare Ruth + r'ars up an' back'ard ontil she's almost down. But she recovers herse'f + an' stands sweatin' an' shiverin' an' her eyes burnin' like she sees a + ghost. Shore, it's over; pore Edson won't wait; he's got to his guns, an' + thar's a bullet through his head.'" + </p> + <h3> + THE END. + </h3> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <pre> + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Wolfville Nights, by Alfred Lewis + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOLFVILLE NIGHTS *** + +***** This file should be named 13709-h.htm or 13709-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/7/0/13709/ + +Etext produced by Al Haines + +HTML file produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Wolfville Nights + +Author: Alfred Lewis + +Release Date: October 11, 2004 [EBook #13709] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOLFVILLE NIGHTS *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + +WOLFVILLE NIGHTS + +by + +Alfred Henry Lewis + + + +Author of "Wolfville", "Wolfville Days", "Peggy O'Nea", &c. + + +1902, + + +CONTENTS. + +CHAPTER + + DEDICATION + SOME COWBOY FACTS + I. THE DISMISSAL OF SILVER PHIL + II. COLONEL STERETT'S PANTHER HUNT + III. HOW FARO NELL DEALT BANK + IV. HOW THE RAVEN DIED + V. THE QUEERNESS OF DAVE TUTT + VI. WITH THE APACHE'S COMPLIMENTS + VII. THE MILLS OF SAVAGE GODS + VIII. TOM AND JERRY; WHEELERS + IX. THE INFLUENCE OF FARO NELL + X. THE GHOST OF THE BAR-B-8 + XI. TUCSON JENNIE'S CORRECTION + XII. BILL CONNORS OF THE OSAGES + XIII. WHEN TUTT FIRST SAW TUCSON + XIV. THE TROUBLES OF DAN BOGGS + XV. BOWLEGS AND MAJOR BEN + XVI. TOAD ALLEN'S ELOPEMENT + XVII. THE CLIENTS OF AARON GREEN + XVIII. COLONEL STERETT'S MARVELS + XIX. THE LUCK OF HARDROBE + XX. LONG AGO ON THE RIO GRANDE + XXI. COLONEL COYOTE CLUBBS + + + + +To + +William Greene Sterett + +this volume is + +inscribed. + + + +NEW YORK CITY, + +August 1, 1902 + +MY DEAR STERETT:-- + +In offering this book to you I might have advantage of the occasion +to express my friendship and declare how high I hold you as a +journalist and a man. Or I might speak of those years at Washington +when in the gallery we worked shoulder to shoulder; I might recall to +you the wit of Hannum, or remind you of the darkling Barrett, the +mighty Decker, the excellent Cohen, the vivid Brown, the imaginative +Miller, the volatile Angus, the epigrammatic Merrick, the quietly +satirical Splain, Rouzer the earnest, Boynton the energetic, Carson +the eminent, and Dunnell, famous for a bitter, frank integrity. I +might remember that day when the gifted Fanciulli, with no more +delicate inspiration than crackers, onions, and cheese, and no more +splendid conservatory than Shoemaker's, wrote, played and consecrated +to you his famous "Lone Star March" wherewith he so disquieted the +public present of the next concert in the White House grounds. Or I +might hark back to the campaign of '92, when together we struggled +against national politics as evinced in the city of New York; I might +repaint that election night when, with one hundred thousand whirling +dervishes of democracy in Madison Square, dancing dances, and singing +songs of victory, we undertook through the hubbub to send from the +"Twenty-third street telegraph office" half-hourly bulletins to our +papers in the West; how you, accompanied of the dignified Richard +Bright, went often to the Fifth Avenue Hotel; and how at last you +dictated your bulletins--a sort of triumphant blank verse, they +were--as Homeric of spirit as lofty of phrase--to me, who caught them +as they came from your lips, losing none of their fire, and so +flashed them all burning into Texas, far away. But of what avail +would be such recount? Distance separates us and time has come +between. Those are the old years, these are the new, with newer +years beyond. Life like a sea is filling from rivers of experience. +Forgetfulness rises as a tide and creeps upward to drown within us +those stories of the days that were. And because this is true, it +comes to me that you as a memory must stand tallest in the midst of +my regard. For of you I find within me no forgetfulness. I have met +others; they came, they tarried, they departed. They came again; and +on this second encounter the recollection of their existences smote +upon me as a surprise. I had forgotten them as though they had not +been. But such is not your tale. Drawn on the plates of memory, as +with a tool of diamond, I carry you both in broadest outline and in +each least of shade; and there hangs no picture in the gallery of +hours gone, to which I turn with more of pleasure and of good. Nor +am I alone in my recollection. Do I pass through the Fifth Avenue +Hotel on my way to the Hoffman, that vandyked dispenser leans +pleasantly across his counter, to ask with deepest interest: "Do you +hear from the Old Man now?" Or am I belated in Shanley's, a beaming +ring of waiters--if it be not an hour overrun of custom--will +half-circle my table, and the boldest, "Pat," will question timidly, +yet with a kindly Galway warmth: "How's the Old Man?" Old Man! That +is your title: at once dignified and affectionate; and by it you come +often to be referred to along Broadway these ten years after its +conference. And when the latest word is uttered what is there more +to fame! I shall hold myself fortunate, indeed, if, departing, I'm +remembered by half so many half so long. But wherefore extend +ourselves regretfully? We may meet again; the game is not played +out. Pending such bright chance, I dedicate this book to you. It is +the most of honour that lies in my lean power. And in so doing, I am +almost moved to say, as said Goldsmith of Johnson in his offering of +_She Stoops to Conquer_: "By inscribing this slight performance to +you, I do not mean to so much compliment you as myself. It may do me +some honour to inform the public that I have lived many years in +intimacy with you. It may serve the interests of mankind also to +inform them that the greatest wit may be found in a character without +impairing the most unaffected piety." I repeat, I am all but moved +to write these lines of you. It would tell my case at least; and +while description might limp in so far as you lack somewhat of that +snuffle of "true piety" so often engaging the Johnsonian nose, you +make up the defect with possession of a wider philosophy, a better +humour and a brighter, quicker wit than visited or dwelt beneath the +candle-scorched wig of our old bully lexicographer. + +ALFRED HENRY LEWIS. + + + + +Some Cowboy Facts. + +There are certain truths of a botanical character that are not +generally known. Each year the trees in their occupation creep +further west. There are regions in Missouri--not bottom lands--which +sixty years ago were bald and bare of trees. Today they are heavy +with timber. Westward, beyond the trees, lie the prairies, and +beyond the prairies, the plains; the first are green with long +grasses, the latter bare, brown and with a crisp, scorched, sparse +vesture of vegetation scarce worth the name. As the trees march +slowly westward in conquest of the prairies, so also do the prairies, +in their verdant turn, become aggressors and push westward upon the +plains. These last stretches, extending to the base of that bluff +and sudden bulwark, the Rocky Mountains, can go no further. The +Rockies hold the plains at bay and break, as it were, the teeth of +the desert. As a result of this warfare of vegetations, the plains +are to first disappear in favour of the prairies; and the prairies to +give way before the trees. These mutations all wait on rain; and as +the rain belt goes ever and ever westward, a strip of plains each +year surrenders its aridity, and the prairies and then the trees +press on and take new ground. + +These facts should contain some virtue of interest; the more since +with the changes chronicled, come also changes in the character of +both the inhabitants and the employments of these regions. With a +civilised people extending themselves over new lands, cattle form +ever the advance guard. Then come the farms. This is the procession +of a civilised, peaceful invasion; thus is the column marshalled. +First, the pastoral; next, the agricultural; third and last, the +manufacturing;--and per consequence, the big cities, where the +treasure chests of a race are kept. Blood and bone and muscle and +heart are to the front; and the money that steadies and stays and +protects and repays them and their efforts, to the rear. + +Forty years ago about all that took place west of the Mississipi of a +money-making character was born of cattle. The cattle were worked in +huge herds and, like the buffalo supplanted by them, roamed in +unnumbered thousands. In a pre-railroad period, cattle were killed +for their hides and tallow, and smart Yankee coasters went constantly +to such ports as Galveston for these cargoes. The beef was left to +the coyotes. + +Cattle find a natural theatre of existence on the plains. There, +likewise, flourishes the pastoral man. But cattle herding, confined +to the plains, gives way before the westward creep of agriculture. +Each year beholds more western acres broken by the plough; each year +witnesses a diminution of the cattle ranges and cattle herding. This +need ring no bell of alarm concerning a future barren of a beef +supply. More cattle are the product of the farm-regions than of the +ranges. That ground, once range and now farm, raises more cattle now +than then. Texas is a great cattle State. Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, +Iowa, and Missouri are first States of agriculture. The area of +Texas is about even with the collected area of the other five. Yet +one finds double the number of cattle in Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, +Iowa, and Missouri than in Texas, to say nothing of tenfold the sheep +and hogs. No; one may be calm; one is not to fall a prey to any +hunger of beef. + +While the farms in their westward pushing do not diminish the cattle, +they reduce the cattleman and pinch off much that is romantic and +picturesque. Between the farm and the wire fence, the cowboy, as +once he flourished, has been modified, subdued, and made partially to +disappear. In the good old days of the Jones and Plummer trail there +were no wire fences, and the sullen farmer had not yet arrived. Your +cowboy at that time was a person of thrill and consequence. He wore +a broad-brimmed Stetson hat, and all about it a rattlesnake skin by +way of band, retaining head and rattles. This was to be potent +against headaches--a malady, by the way, which swept down no cowboy +save in hours emergent of a spree. In such case the snake cure +didn't cure. The hat was retained in defiance of winds, by a +leathern cord caught about the back of the head, not under the chin. +This cord was beautiful with a garniture of three or four perforated +poker chips, red, yellow, and blue. + +There are sundry angles of costume where the dandyism of a cowboy of +spirit and conceit may acquit itself; these are hatband, spurs, +saddle, and leggins. I've seen hatbands made of braided gold and +silver filigree; they were from Santa Fe, and always in the form of a +rattlesnake, with rubies or emeralds or diamonds for eyes. Such +gauds would cost from four hundred to two thousand dollars. Also, +I've encountered a saddle which depleted its proud owner a round +twenty-five hundred dollars. It was of finest Spanish leather, +stamped and spattered with gold bosses. There was gold-capping on +the saddle horn, and again on the circle of the cantle. It was a +dream of a saddle, made at Paso del Norte; and the owner had it +cinched upon a bronco dear at twenty dollars. One couldn't have sold +the pony for a stack of white chips in any faro game of that +neighbourhood (Las Vegas) and they were all crooked games at that. + +Your cowboy dandy frequently wears wrought steel spurs, inlaid with +silver and gold; price, anything you please. If he flourish a true +Brummel of the plains his leggins will be fronted from instep to belt +with the thick pelt, hair outside, of a Newfoundland dog. These +"chapps," are meant to protect the cowboy from rain and cold, as well +as plum bushes, wire fences and other obstacles inimical, and against +which he may lunge while riding headlong in the dark. The hair of +the Newfoundland, thick and long and laid the right way, defies the +rains; and your cowboy loathes water. + +Save in those four cardinals of vanity enumerated, your cowboy wears +nothing from weakness; the rest of his outfit is legitimate. The +long sharp heels of his boots are there to dig into the ground and +hold fast to his mother earth while roping on foot. His gay pony +when "roped" of a frosty morning would skate him all across and about +the plains if it were not for these heels. The buckskin gloves tied +in one of the saddle strings are used when roping, and to keep the +half-inch manila lariat--or mayhap it's horsehair or rawhide +pleated--from burning his hands. The red silken sash one was wont +aforetime to see knotted about his waist, was used to hogtie and hold +down the big cattle when roped and thrown. The sash--strong, soft +and close--could be tied more tightly, quickly, surely than anything +besides. In these days, with wire pastures and branding pens and the +fine certainty of modern round-ups and a consequent paucity of +mavericks, big cattle are seldom roped; wherefor the sash has been +much cast aside. + +The saddle-bags or "war-bags,"--also covered of dogskin to match the +leggins, and worn behind, not forward of the rider--are the cowboy's +official wardrobe wherein he carries his second suit of underclothes, +and his other shirt. His handkerchief, red cotton, is loosely +knotted about the cowboy's neck, knot to the rear. He wipes the +sweat from his brow therewith on those hot Texas days when in a +branding pen he "flanks" calves or feeds the fires or handles the +irons or stands off the horned indignation of the cows, resentful +because of burned and bawling offspring. + +It would take two hundred thousand words to tell in half fashion the +story of the cowboy. His religion of fatalism, his courage, his +rides at full swing in midnight darkness to head and turn and hold a +herd stampeded, when a slip on the storm-soaked grass by his unshod +pony, or a misplaced prairie-dog hole, means a tumble, and a tumble +means that a hundred and fifty thousand dollars worth of cattle, with +hoofs like chopping knives, will run over him and make him look and +feel and become as dead as a cancelled postage stamp; his troubles, +his joys, his soberness in camp, his drunkenness in town, and his +feuds and occasional "gun plays" are not to be disposed of in a +preface. One cannot in such cramped space so much as hit the high +places in a cowboy career. + +At work on the range and about his camp--for, bar accidents, wherever +you find a cowboy you will find a camp--the cowboy is a youth of +sober quiet dignity. There is a deal of deep politeness and nothing +of epithet, insult or horseplay where everybody wears a gun. + +There are no folk inquisitive on the ranges. No one asks your name. +If driven by stress of conversation to something akin to it the +cowboy will say: "What may I call you, sir?" And he's as careful to +add the "sir," as he is to expect it in return. + +You are at liberty to select what name you prefer. Where you hail +from? where going? why? are queries never put. To look at the brand +on your pony--you, a stranger--is a dangerous vulgarity to which no +gentleman of the Panhandle or any other region of pure southwestern +politeness would stoop. And if you wish to arouse an instant +combination of hate, suspicion and contempt in the bosom of a cowboy +you have but to stretch forth your artless Eastern hand and ask: "Let +me look at your gun." + +Cowboys on the range or in the town are excessively clannish. They +never desert each other, but stay and fight and die and storm a jail +and shoot a sheriff if needs press, to rescue a comrade made captive +in their company. Also they care for each other when sick or +injured, and set one another's bones when broken in the falls and +tumbles of their craft. On the range the cowboy is quiet, just and +peaceable. There are neither women nor cards nor rum about the cow +camps. The ranches and the boys themselves banish the two latter; +and the first won't come. Women, cards and whiskey, the three war +causes of the West, are confined to the towns. + +Those occasions when cattle are shipped and the beef-herds, per +consequence, driven to the shipping point become the only times when +the cowboy sees the town. In such hours he blooms and lives fully up +to his opportunity. He has travelled perhaps two hundred miles and +has been twenty days on the trail, for cattle may only be driven +about ten miles a day; he has been up day and night and slept half +the time in the saddle; he has made himself hoarse singing "Sam Bass" +and "The Dying Ranger" to keep the cattle quiet and stave off +stampedes; he has ridden ten ponies to shadows in his twenty days of +driving, wherefore, and naturally, your cowboy feels like relaxing. + +There would be as many as ten men with each beef-herd; and the herd +would include about five thousand head. There would be six "riders," +divided into three watches to stand night guard over the herd and +drive it through the day; there would be two "hoss hustlers," to hold +the eighty or ninety ponies, turn and turn about, and carry them +along with the herd; there would be the cook, with four mules and the +chuck wagon; and lastly there would be the herd-boss, a cow expert +he, and at the head of the business. + +Once the herd is off his hands and his mind at the end of the drive, +the cowboy unbuckles and reposes himself from his labours. He +becomes deeply and famously drunk. Hungering for the excitement of +play he collides amiably with faro and monte and what other deadfalls +are rife of the place. Never does he win; for the games aren't +arranged that way. But he enjoys himself; and his losses do not prey +on him. + +Sated with faro bank and monte--they can't be called games of chance, +the only games of chance occurring when cowboys engage with each +other at billiards or pool--sated, I say, with faro and Mexican +monte, and exuberant of rum, which last has regular quick renewal, +our cowboy will stagger to his pony, swing into the saddle, and with +gladsome whoops and an occasional outburst from his six shooter +directed toward the heavens, charge up and down the street. This +last amusement appeals mightily to cowboys too drunk to walk. For, +be it known, a gentleman may ride long after he may not walk. + +If a theatre be in action and mayhap a troop of "Red Stocking +Blondes," elevating the drama therein, the cowboy is sure to attend. +Also he will arrive with his lariat wound about his body under his +coat; and his place will be the front row. At some engaging crisis, +such as the "March of the Amazons," having first privily unwound and +organised his lariat to that end, he will arise and "rope" an Amazon. +This will produce bad language from the manager of the show, and +compel the lady to sit upon the stage to the detriment of her +wardrobe if no worse, and all to keep from being pulled across the +footlights. Yet the exercise gives the cowboy deepest pleasure. +Having thus distinguished the lady of his admiration, later he will +meet her and escort her to the local dancehall. There, mingling with +their frank companions, the two will drink, and loosen the boards of +the floor with the strenuous dances of our frontier till daylight +does appear. + +For the matter of a week, or perchance two--it depends on how fast +his money melts--in these fashions will our gentleman of cows engage +his hours and expand himself. He will make a deal of noise, drink a +deal of whiskey, acquire a deal of what he terms "action"; but he +harms nobody, and, in a town toughened to his racket and which needs +and gets his money, disturbs nobody. + +"Let him whoop it up; he's paying for it, ain't he?" will be the +prompt local retort to any inquiry as to why he is thus permitted to +disport. + +So long as the cowboy observes the etiquette of the town, he will not +be molested or "called down" by marshal or sheriff or citizen. There +are four things your cowboy must not do. He must not insult a woman; +he must not shoot his pistol in a store or bar-room; he must not ride +his pony into those places of resort; and as a last proposal he must +not ride his pony on the sidewalks. Shooting or riding into +bar-rooms is reckoned as dangerous; riding on the sidewalk comes more +under the head of insult, and is popularly regarded as a taunting +defiance of the town marshal. On such occasions the marshal never +fails to respond, and the cowboy is called upon to surrender. If he +complies, which to the credit of his horse-sense he commonly does, he +is led into brief captivity to be made loose when cooled. Does he +resist arrest, there is an explosive rattle of six shooters, a mad +scattering of the careful citizenry out of lines of fire, and a +cowboy or marshal is added to the host beyond. At the close of the +festival, if the marshal still lives he is congratulated; if the +cowboy survives he is lynched; if both fall, they are buried with the +honours of frontier war; while whatever the event, the communal +ripple is but slight and only of the moment, following which the +currents of Western existence sweep easily and calmly onward as +before. + + A. H. L. + + + + +WOLFVILLE NIGHTS + +CHAPTER I. + +The Dismissal of Silver Phil. + +"His name, complete, is 'Silver City Philip.' In them social +observances of the Southwest wherein haste is a feacher an' brev'ty the +bull's eye aimed at, said cognomen gets shortened to 'Silver Phil.'" + +The Old Cattleman looked thoughtfully into his glass, as if by that +method he collected the scattered elements of a story. There was a +pause; then he lifted the glass to his lips as one who being now evenly +equipped of information, proposed that it arrive hand in hand with the +inspiration which should build a tale from it. + +"Shore, this Silver Phil is dead now; an' I never yet crosses up with +the gent who's that sooperfluous as to express regrets. It's Dan Boggs +who dismisses Silver Phil; Dan does it in efforts he puts forth to +faithfully represent the right. + +"Doc Peets allers allows this Silver Phil is a 'degen'rate;' leastwise +that's the word Peets uses. An' while I freely concedes I ain't none +too cl'ar as to jest what a degen'rate is, I stands ready to back +Peets' deescription to win. Peets is, bar Colonel William Greene +Sterett, the best eddicated sharp in Arizona; also the wariest as to +expressin' views. Tharfore when Peets puts it up, onflinchin', that +this yere Silver Phil's a degen'rate, you-all can spread your blankets +an' go to sleep on it that a degen'rate he is. + +"Silver Phil is a little, dark, ignorant, tousled-ha'red party, none +too neat in costume. He's as black an' small an' evil-seemin' as a +Mexican; still, you sees at a glance he ain't no Greaser neither. An' +with all this yere surface wickedness, Silver Phil has a quick, +hyster'cal way like a woman or a bird; an' that's ever a grin on his +face. You can smell 'bad' off Silver Phil, like smoke in a house, an' +folks who's on the level--an' most folks is--conceives a notion ag'in +him the moment him an' they meets up. + +"The first time I observes Silver Phil, he's walkin' down the licker +room of the Red Light. As he goes by the bar, Black Jack--who's +rearrangin' the nosepaint on the shelf so it shows to advantage--gets +careless an' drops a bottle. + +"'Crash!' it goes onto the floor. + +"With the sound, an' the onexpected suddenness of it stampedin' his +nerves, that a-way, Silver Phil leaps into the air like a cat; an' when +he 'lights, he's frontin' Black Jack an' a gun in each hand. + +"'Which I won't be took!' says Silver Phil, all flustered. + +"His eyes is gleamin' an' his face is palin' an' his ugly grin gets +even uglier than before. But like a flash, he sees thar's nothin' to +go in the air about--nothin' that means him; an' he puts up his +hardware an' composes himse'f. + +"'You-all conducts yourse'f like a sport who has something on his +mind,' says Texas Thompson, who's thar present at the time, an' can't +refrain from commentin' on the start that bottle-smashin' gives Silver +Phil. + +"This Silver Phil makes no response, but sort o' grins plenty ghastly, +while his breath comes quick. + +"Still, while you-all notes easy that this person's scared, it's plain +he's a killer jest the same. It's frequent that a-way. I'm never much +afraid of one of your cold game gents like Cherokee Hall; you can +gamble the limit they'll never put a six-shooter in play till it's +shorely come their turn. But timid, feverish, locoed people, whose +jedgment is bad an' who's prone to feel themse'fs in peril; they're the +kind who kills. For myse'f I shuns all sech. I won't say them +erratic, quick-to-kill sports don't have courage; only it strikes +me--an' I've rode up on a heap of 'em--it's more like a fear-bit +f'rocity than sand. + +"Take Enright or Peets or Cherokee or Tutt or Jack Moore or Boggs or +Texas Thompson; you're plumb safe with sech gents--all or any. An' yet +thar ain't the first glimmer of bein' gun-shy about one of 'em; they're +as clean strain as the eternal granite, an' no more likely to hide out +from danger than a hill. An' while they differs from each other, yet +they're all different from sech folks as Silver Phil. Boggs, goin' to +war, is full of good-humoured grandeur, gala and confident, ready to +start or stop like a good hoss. Cherokee Hall is quiet an' wordless; +he gets pale, but sharp an' deadly; an' his notion is to fight for a +finish. Peets is haughty an' sooperior on the few o'casions when he +onbends in battle, an' comports himse'f like a gent who fights +downhill; the same, ondoubted, bein' doo to them book advantages of +Peets which elevates him an' lifts him above the common herd a whole +lot. Enright who's oldest is of course slowest to embark in blood, an' +pulls his weepons--when he does pull 'em--with sorrowful resignation. + +"'Which I'm shorely saddest when I shoots,' says Enright to me, as he +reloads his gun one time. + +"These yere humane sentiments, however, don't deter him from shootin' +soon an' aimin' low, which latter habits makes Wolfville's honoured +chief a highly desp'rate game to get ag'inst. + +"Jack Moore, bein' as I explains former, the execyootive of the +Stranglers, an' responsible for law an' order, has a heap of shootin' +shoved onto him from time to time. Jack allers transacts these +fireworks with a ca'm, offishul front, the same bein' devoid, equal, of +anger or regrets. Tutt, partic'lar after he weds Tucson Jennie, an' +more partic'lar still when he reaps new honours as the originator of +that blessed infant Enright Peets Tutt, carries on what shootin' comes +his way in a manner a lot dignified an' lofty; while Texas +Thompson--who's mebby morbid about his wife down in Laredo demandin' +she be divorced that time--although he picks up his hand in a fracas, +ready an' irritable an' with no delays, after all is that well-balanced +he's bound to be each time plumb right. + +"Which, you observes, son, from these yere settin's forth, that thar's +a mighty sight of difference between gents like them pards of mine an' +degen'rates of the tribe of Silver Phil. It's the difference between +right an' wrong; one works from a impulse of pure jestice, the other is +moved of a sperit of crime; an' thar you be. + +"Silver Phil, we learns later--an' it shore jestifies Peets in his +theories about him bein' a degen'rate--has been in plenty of blood. +But allers like a cat; savage, gore-thirsty, yet shy, prideless, an' +ready to fly. It seems he begins to be homicidal in a humble way by +downin' a trooper over near Fort Cummings. That's four years before he +visits us. He's been blazin' away intermittent ever since, and allers +crooel, crafty an' safe. It's got to be a shore thing or Silver Phil +quits an' goes into the water like a mink. + +"This yere ondersized miscreant ain't ha'nted about Wolfville more'n +four days before he shows how onnecessary he is to our success. Which +he works a ha'r copper on Cherokee Hall. What's a ha'r copper? I'll +onfold, short and terse, what Silver Phil does, an' then you saveys. +Cherokee's dealin' his game--farobank she is; an' if all them national +banks conducts themse'fs as squar' as that enterprise of Cherokee's, +the fields of finance would be as safely honest as a church. +Cherokee's turnin' his game one evenin'; Faro Nell on the lookout stool +where she belongs. Silver Phil drifts up to the lay-out, an' camps +over back of the king-end. He gets chips, an' goes to takin' chances +alternate on the king, queen, jack, ten; all side an' side they be. +Cherokee bein' squar' himse'f ain't over-prone to expect a devious play +in others. He don't notice this Silver Phil none speshul, an' shoves +the kyards. + +"Silver Phil wins three or four bets; it's Nell that catches on to his +racket, an' signs up to Cherokee onder the table with her little foot. +One glance an' Cherokee is loaded with information. This Silver Phil, +it seems, in a sperit of avarice, equips himse'f with a copper--little +wooden checker, is what this copper is--one he's done filched from +Cherokee the day prior. He's fastened a long black hoss-ha'r to it, +an' he ties the other end of the hoss-ha'r to his belt in front. This +ha'r is long enough as he's planted at the table that a-way, so it +reaches nice to them four nearest kyards,--the king, queen, jack, ten. +An' said ha'r is plumb invisible except to eyes as sharp as Faro +Nell's. The deceitful Silver Phil will have a stack on one of 'em, +coppered with this yere ha'r copper. He watches the box. As the turns +is made, if the kyards come his way, well an' good. Silver Phil does +nothin' but garners in results. When the kyards start to show ag'in +him, however, that's different. In sech events Silver Phil draws in +his breath, sort o' takin' in on the hoss-ha'r, an' the copper comes +off the bet. When the turn is made, thar's Silver Phil's bet--by +virchoo of said fraud--open an' triumphant an' waitin' to be paid. + +"Cherokee gets posted quick an with a look. As sharp as winkin' +Cherokee has a nine-inch bowie in his hand an' with one slash cuts the +hoss-ha'r clost up by Silver Phil's belt. + +"'That's a yoonique invention!" observes Cherokee, an' he's sarcastic +while he menaces with the knife at Silver Phil; 'that contraption is +shorely plenty sagacious! But it don't go here. Shove in your chips.' +Silver Phil obeys: an' he shows furtive, ugly, an' alarmed, an' all of +'em at once. He don't say a word. 'Now pull your freight,' concloods +Cherokee. 'If you ever drifts within ten foot of a game of mine ag'in +I'll throw this knife plumb through you--through an' through.' An' +Cherokee, by way of lustration lets fly the knife across the bar-room. +It comes like a flash. + +"'Chuck!' + +"Thar's a picture paper pasted onto the wooden wall of the Red Light, +displayin' the liniaments of some party. That bowie pierces the +picture--a shot in the cross it is--an' all with sech fervour that the +p'int of the blade shows a inch an' a half on the other side of that +individyool board. + +"'The next time I throws a knife in your presence,' remarks Cherokee to +Silver Phil, an' Cherokee's as cold an' p'isonous as a rattlesnake, +'it'll be la'nched at you.' + +"Silver Phil don't say nothin' in retort. He's aware by the lib'ral +way Cherokee sep'rates himse'f from the bowie that said weepon can't +constitoote Cherokee's entire armament. An' as Silver Phil don't pack +the sperit to face no sech flashlight warrior, he acts on Cherokee's +hint to _vamos_, an fades into the street. Shore, Cherokee don't cash +the felon's chips none; he confiscates 'em. Cherokee ain't quite so +tenderly romantic as to make good to a detected robber. Moreover, he +lets this Silver Phil go onharmed when by every roole his skelp is +forfeit. It turns out good for the camp, however, as this yere +experience proves so depressin' to Silver Phil he removes his blankets +to Red Dog. Thar among them purblind tarrapins, its inhabitants, it's +likely he gets prosperous an' ondetected action on that little old ha'r +copper of his. + +"It's not only my beliefs, but likewise the opinions of sech joodicial +sports as Enright, Peets, an' Colonel Sterett, that this maverick, +Silver Phil, is all sorts of a crim'nal. An' I wouldn't wonder if he's +a pure rustler that a-way; as ready to stand up a stage as snake a play +at farobank. This idee settles down on the Wolfville intell'gence on +the heels of a vicissitoode wherein Dan Boggs performs, an' which gets +pulled off over in the Bird Cage Op'ry House. Jack Moore ain't thar +none that time. Usual, Jack is a constant deevotee of the dramy. +Jack's not only a first-nighter, he comes mighty clost to bein' a +every-nighter. But this partic'lar evenin' when Boggs performs, Jack's +rummagin' about some'ers else. + +"If Jack's thar, it's even money he'd a-had that second shot instead of +Boggs; in which event, the results might have been something graver +than this yere minoote wound which Boggs confers. I'm confident Jack +would have cut in with the second shot for sech is his offishul system. +Jack more'n once proclaims his position. + +"'By every roole of law,' says Jack at epocks when he declar's himse'f, +'an' on all o'casions, I, as kettle-tender to the Stranglers, is +entitled to the first shot. When I uses the term 'o'casion,' I would +be onderstood as alloodin' to affairs of a simply social kind, an' not +to robberies, hold-ups, hoss-larcenies, an' other an' sim'lar +transactions in spec'latif crime when every gent defends his own. +Speakin' social, however, I reasserts that by every roole of guidance, +I'm entitled to the first shot. Which a doo regyard for these plain +rights of mine would go far to freein' Wolfville upper circles of the +bullets which occurs from time to time, an' which even the most +onconventional admits is shore a draw-back. All I can add as a +closer,' concloods Jack, 'is that I'll make haste to open on any sport +who transgresses these fiats an' goes to shootin' first. Moreover, +it's likely that said offender finds that when I'm started once, what I +misses in the orig'nal deal I'll make up in the draw, an' I tharfore +trusts that none will prove so sooicidal as to put me to the test.' + +"This Bird Cage Op'ry House evenin', however, Jack is absent a heap. +Dan Boggs is present, an' is leanin' back appreciatin' the show an' the +Valley Tan plenty impartial. Dan likes both an' is doin' 'em even +jestice. Over opp'site to Dan is a drunken passel of sports from Red +Dog, said wretched hamlet bein' behind Wolfville in that as in all +things else an' not ownin' no op'ry house. + +"As the evenin' proceeds--it's about sixth drink time--a casyooal gun +goes off over among the Red Dog outfit, an' the lead tharfrom bores a +hole in the wall clost to Dan's y'ear. Nacherally Dan don't like it. +The show sort o' comes to a balk, an' takin' advantages of the lull Dan +arises in a listless way an' addresses the Red Dogs. + +"'I merely desires to inquire,' says Dan 'whether that shot is +inadvertent; or is it a mark of innocent joobilation an' approval of +the show; or is it meant personal to me?' + +"'You can bet your moccasins!' shouts one of the Red Dog delegation, +'thar's no good fellowship with that gun-play. That shot's formal an' +serious an' goes as it lays.' + +"'My mind bein' now cl'ar on the subject of motive,' says Dan; 'the +proper course is plain.'" + +With this retort Dan slams away gen'ral--shoots into the flock like--at +the picnickers from Red Dog, an' a party who's plenty drunk an' has his +feet piled up on a table goes shy his off big toe. + +"As I remarks yeretofore it's as well Jack Moore ain't thar. Jack +would have corralled something more momentous than a toe. Which Jack +would have been shootin' in his capac'ty as marshal, an' couldn't onder +sech circumstances have stooped to toes. But it's different with Dan. +He is present private an' only idlin' 'round; an' he ain't driven to +take high ground. More partic'lar since Dan's playin' a return game in +the nacher of reproofs an' merely to resent the onlicensed liberties +which Red Dog takes with him, Dan, as I says, is free to accept toes if +he so decides. + +"When Dan busts this yere inebriate, the victim lams loose a yell +ag'inst which a coyote would protest. That sot thinks he's shore +killed. What with the scare an' the pain an' the nosepaint, an' +regyardin' of himse'f as right then flutterin' about the rim of +eternity, he gets seized with remorse an' allows he's out to confess +his sins before he quits. As thar's no sky pilot to confide in, this +drunkard figgers that Peets 'll do, an' with that he onloads on Peets +how, bein' as he is a stage book-keep over in Red Dog, he's in cahoots +with a outfit of route agents an' gives 'em the word when it's worth +while to stand-up the stage. An' among other crim'nal pards of his +this terrified person names that outlaw Silver Phil. Shore, when he +rounds to an' learns it ain't nothin' but a toe, this party's chagrined +to death. + +"This yere confidin' sport's arrested an' taken some'ers--Prescott +mebby--to be tried in a shore-enough co't for the robberies; the Red +Dog Stranglers not bein' game to butt in an' hang him a lot themse'fs. +They surrenders him to the marshal who rides over for him; an' they +would have turned out Silver Phil, too, only that small black outcast +don't wait, but goes squanderin' off to onknown climes the moment he +hears the news. He's vamoosed Red Dog before this penitent bookkeep +ceases yelpin' an' sobbin' over his absent toe. + +"It ain't no time, however, before we hears further of Silver Phil; +that is, by way of roomer. It looks like a couple of big cow outfits +some'ers in the San Simon country--they're the 'Three-D' an' the +'K-in-a-box' brands--takes first to stealin' each, other's cattle, an', +final, goes to war. Each side retains bands of murderers an' proceeds +buoyantly to lay for one another. Which Silver Phil enlists with the +'Three-D' an' sneaks an' prowls an' bushwhacks an' shoots himse'f into +more or less bloody an' ignoble prom'nence. At last the main +war-chiefs of the Territory declar's themse'fs in on the riot an' +chases both sides into the hills; an' among other excellent deeds they +makes captive Silver Phil. + +"It's a great error they don't string this Silver Phil instanter. But +no; after the procrastinatin' fashion of real law, they permits the +villain--who's no more use on the surface of Arizona that a-way than +one of them hydrophoby polecats whose bite is death--to get a law sharp +to plead an' call for a show-down before a jedge an' jury. It takes +days to try Silver Phil, an' marshals an' sheriff gents is two weeks +squanderin' about gettin' witnesses; an' all to as much trouble an' +loss of time an' dinero as would suffice to round-up the cattle of +Cochise county. Enright an' the Stranglers would have turned the +trick in twenty minutes an' never left the New York Store ontil with +Silver Phil an' a lariat they reepairs to the windmill to put the +finishin' touches on their lucoobrations. + +"Still, dooms slow an' shiftless as they shore be, at the wind-up +Silver Phil's found guilty, an' is put in nom'nation by the presidin' +alcade to be hanged; the time bein' set in a crazy-hoss fashion for a +month away. As Silver Phil--which he's that bad an' hard he comes +mighty clost to bein; game--is leavin' the co't-room with the marshal +who's ridin' herd on him, he says: + +"'I ain't payin' much attention at the time,'--Silver Phil's talkin' to +that marshal gent,--'bein' I'm thinkin' of something else, but do I +onderstand that old grey sport on the bench to say you-all is to hang +me next month?' + +"'That's whatever!' assents this marshal gent, 'an' you can gamble a +bloo stack that hangin' you is a bet we ain't none likely to overlook. +Which we're out to put our whole grateful souls into the dooty.' + +"'Now I thinks of it,' observes Silver Phil, 'I'm some averse to bein' +hanged. I reckons, speakin' free an' free as between fellow sports, +that in order for that execootion to be a blindin' success I'll have to +be thar personal?' + +"'It's one of the mighty few o'casions,' responds the marshal, 'when +your absence would shorely dash an' damp the gen'ral joy. As you says, +you'll have to be thar a heap personal when said hangin' occurs.' + +"'I'm mighty sorry,' says Silver Phil, 'that you-all lays out your game +in a fashion that so much depends on me. The more so, since the longer +I considers this racket, the less likely it is I'll be thar. It's +almost a cinch, with the plans I has, that I'll shore be some'ers else.' + +"They corrals Silver Phil in the one big upper room of a two-story +'doby, an' counts off a couple of dep'ty marshals to gyard him. These +gyards, comin' squar' down to cases, ain't no improvement, moral, on +Silver Phil himse'f; an' since they're twice his age--Silver Phil not +bein' more'n twenty--it's safe as a play to say that both of 'em +oughter have been hanged a heap before ever Silver Phil is born. These +two hold-ups, however, turns dep'ty marshals in their old age, an' is +put in to stand watch an' watch an' see that Silver Phil don't work +loose from his hobbles an' go pirootin' off ag'in into parts onknown. +Silver Phil is loaded with fetters,--handcuffs an' laig-locks both--an' +these hold-up sentries is armed to the limit. + +"It's the idee of Doc Peets later, when he hears the details, that if +the gyards that time treats Silver Phil with kindness, the little felon +most likely would have remained to be hanged. But they don't: they +abooses Silver Phil; cussin' him out an' herdin' him about like he's +cattle. They're a evil-tempered couple, them dep'ties, an' they don't +give Silver Phil no sort o' peace. + +"'As I su'gests yeretofore,' says Doc Peets, when he considers the +case, 'this Silver Phil is a degen'rate. He's like a anamile. He +don't entertain no reg'lar scheme to work free when he waxes sardonic +with the marshal; that's only a bluff. Later, when them gyards takes +to maltreatin' him an' battin' him about, it wakes up the venom in him, +an' his cunnin' gets aroused along with his appetite for revenge.' + +"This Silver Phil, who's lean an' slim like I explains at the jump, has +hands no bigger than a cat's paws. It ain't no time when he discovers +that by cuttin' himse'f a bit on the irons, he can shuck the handcuffs +whenever he's disposed. Even then, he don't outline no campaign for +liberty; jest sort o' roominates an' waits. + +"It's one partic'lar mornin', some two weeks after Silver Phil's +sentenced that a-way. The marshal gent himse'f ain't about, bein' on +some dooty over to Tucson. Silver Phil is upsta'rs on the top floor of +the 'doby with his gyards. Which he's hotter than a wildcat; the +gyards an' him has been havin' a cussin' match, an' as Silver Phil +outplays 'em talkin', one of 'em's done whacked him over the skelp with +his gun. The blood's tricklin' down Silver Phil's fore'erd as he sits +glowerin'. + +"One of the gyards is loadin' a ten-gauge Greener--a whole mouthful of +buckshot in each shell. He's grinnin' at Silver Phil as he shoves the +shells in the gun an' slams her shet. + +"'Which I'm loadin' that weepon for you,' says the gyard, contemplatin' +Silver Phil derisive. + +"'You be, be you!' replies Silver Phil, his eyes burnin' with rage. +'Which you better look out a whole lot; you-all may get it yourse'f.' + +"The gyard laughs ugly an' exasperatin' an' puts the ten-gauge in a +locker along with two or three Winchesters. Then he turns the key on +the firearms an' goes caperin' off to his feed. + +"The other gyard, his _compadre_, is settin' on a stool lookin' out a +window. Mebby he's considerin' of his sins. It would be more in his +hand at this time if he thinks of Silver Phil. + +"Silver Phil, who's full of wrath at the taunts of the departed gyard, +slips his hands free of the irons. Most of the hide on his wrists +comes with 'em, but Silver Phil don't care. The gyard's back is to him +as that gent sits gazin' out an' off along the dusty trail where it +winds gray an' hot toward Tucson. Silver Phil organises, stealthy an' +cat-cautious; he's out for the gyard's gun as it hangs from his belt, +the butt all temptin' an' su'gestive. + +"As Silver Phil makes his first move the laig-locks clanks. It ain't +louder than the jingle of a brace of copper _centouse_ knockin' +together. It's enough, however; it strikes on the y'ear of that +thoughtful gyard like the roar of a '44. He emerges from his reverie +with a start; the play comes cl'ar as noonday to him in a moment. + +"The gyard leaps, without even lookin' 'round, to free himse'f from the +clutch of Silver Phil. Which he's the splinter of a second too late. +Silver Phil makes a spring like a mountain lion, laig-locks an' all, +an' grabs the gun. As the gyard goes clatterin' down sta'rs. Silver +Phil pumps two loads into him an' curls him up at the foot. Then +Silver Phil hurls the six-shooter at him with a volley of mal'dictions. + +"Without pausin' a moment, Silver Phil grabs the stool an' smashes to +flinders the locker that holds the 10-gauge Greener. He ain't forgot +none; an' he's fair locoed to get that partic'lar weepon for the other +gyard. He rips it from the rack an' shows at the window as his prey +comes runnin' to the rescoo of his pard: + +"'Oh, you! Virg Sanders!' yells Silver Phil. + +"The second gyard looks up; an' as he does, Silver Phil gives him both +bar'ls. Forty-two buckshot; an' that gyard's so clost he stops 'em +all! As he lays dead, Silver Phil breaks the Greener in two, an' +throws, one after the other, stock an' bar'l at him. + +"'Which I'll show you-all what happens when folks loads a gun for me!' +says Silver Phil. + +"Nacherally, this artillery practice turns out the entire plaza. The +folks is standin' about the 'doby which confines Silver Phil, wonderin' +whatever that enthoosiast's goin' to do next. No, they don't come +after him, an' I'll tell you why. Shore, thar's twenty gents lookin' +on, any one of whom, so far as personal apprehensions is involved, +would trail Silver Phil single-handed into a wolf's den. Which he'd +feel plumb confident he gets away with Silver Phil an' the wolves +thrown in to even up the odds. Still, no one stretches forth to +capture Silver Phil on this yere voylent o'casion. An' these is the +reasons. Thar's no reg'lar offishul present whose dooty it is to rope +up this Silver Phil. If sech had chanced to be thar, you can put down +a stack he'd come a-runnin', an' him or Silver Phil would have caught +up with the two gyards on their journey into the beyond. But when it +gets down to private people volunteerin' for dooty as marshals, folks +in the Southwest goes some slothful to work. Thar's the friends of the +accoosed--an' as a roole he ain't none friendless--who would mighty +likely resent sech zeal. Also, in the case of Silver Phil, his +captivity grows out of a cattle war. One third the public so far as it +stands about the 'doby where Silver Phil is hived that time is +'Three-D' adherents, mebby another third is 'K-in-a-box' folks, while +the last third is mighty likely nootral. Whichever way it breaks, +however, thar's a tacit stand-off, an' never a sport of 'em lifts a +finger or voice to head off Silver Phil. + +"'Which she's the inalien'ble right of Americans onder the +constitootion to escape with every chance they gets,' says one. + +"'That's whatever!' coincides his pard; 'an' moreover this ain't our +round-up nohow.' + +"It's in that fashion these private citizens adjusts their dooty to the +state while pausin' to look on, in a sperit of cur'osity while Silver +Phil makes his next play. + +"They don't wait long. Silver Phil comes out on the roof of a stoop in +front. He's got a Winchester by now, an' promptly throws the muzzle +tharof on a leadin' citizen. Silver Phil allows he'll plug this +dignitary if they don't send up a sport with a file to cut loose the +laig-locks. Tharupon the pop'lace, full of a warm interest by this +time, does better. They gropes about in the war-bags of the Virg +Sanders sharp who stops the buckshot an' gets his keys; a moment after, +Silver Phil is free. + +"Still, this ontirin' hold-up goes on menacin' the leadin' citizen as +former. Which now Silver Phil demands a bronco, bridled an' saddled. +He gives the public ten minutes; if the bronco is absent at the end of +ten minutes Silver Phil allows he'll introdooce about a pound of lead +into where that village father does his cogitating. The bronco appears +with six minutes to spar'. As it arrives, the vivacious Silver Phil +jumps off the roof of the stoop--the same bein' low--an' is in the +saddle an' out o' sight while as practised a hand as Huggins is pourin' +out a drink. Where the trail bends 'round a mesa Silver Phil pulls up. + +"'Whoop! whoop! whoopee! for Silver Phil,' he shouts. + +"Then he waves the Winchester, an' as he spurs 'round the corner of the +hill it's the last that spellbound outfit ever sees of Silver Phil. + +"Nacherally now," remarked my old friend, as he refreshed himself with +a mouthful of scotch, "you-all is waitin' an' tryin' to guess wherever +does Dan Boggs get in on this yere deal. An' it won't take no time to +post you; the same bein' a comfort. + +"Not one word do we-all wolves of Wolfville hear of the divertin' +adventures of Silver Phil--shootin' up his gyards an' fetchin' himse'f +free--ontil days after. No one in camp has got Silver Phil on his mind +at all; at least if he has he deems him safe an' shore in hock, +a-waitin' to be stretched. Considerin' what follows, I never +experiences trouble in adoptin' Doc Peets' argyments that the eepisodes +wherein this onhappy Silver Phil figgers sort o' aggravates his +intellects ontil he's locoed. + +"'Bein' this Silver Phil's a degen'rate,' declar's Peets, explanatory, +'he's easy an' soon to loco. His mind as well as his moral nacher is +onbalanced congenital. Any triflin' jolt, much less than what that +Silver Phil runs up on, an' his fretful wits is shore to leave the +saddle. + +"Now that Silver Phil's free, but loonatic like Peets says, an' doubly +vicious by them tantalisin' gyards, it looks like he thinks of nothin' +but wreckin' reprisals on all who's crossed his trail. An' so with +vengeance eatin' at his crim'nal heart he p'ints that bronco's muzzle +straight as a bird flies for Wolfville. Whoever do you-all reckon now +he wants? Cherokee Hall? Son, you've followed off the wrong waggon +track. Silver Phil--imagine the turpitoode of sech a ornery +wretch!--is out for the lovely skelp of Faro Nell who detects him in +his ha'r-copper frauds that time. + +"Which the first intimations we has of Silver Phil after that escape, +is one evenin' about fifth drink time--or as you-all says 'four +o'clock.' The sun's still hot an' high over in the west. Thar's no +game goin'; but bein' it's as convenient thar as elsewhere an' some +cooler, Cherokee's settin' back of his layout with Faro Nell as usual +on her lookout perch. Dan Boggs is across the street in the dancehall +door, an' his pet best bronco is waitin' saddled in front. Hot an' +drowsy; the street save for these is deserted. + +"It all takes place in a moment. Thar's a clattering rush; an' then, +pony a-muck with sweat an' alkali dust, Silver Phil shows in the +portals of the Red Light. Thar's a flash an' a spit of white smoke as +he fires his six-shooter straight at Faro Nell. + +"Silver Phil is quick, but Cherokee is quicker. Cherokee sweeps Faro +Nell from her stool with one motion of his arm an' the bullet that's +searchin' for her lifts Cherokee's ha'r a trifle where he 'most gets +his head in its way. + +"Ondoubted, this Silver Phil allows he c'llects on Faro Nell as +planned. He don't shoot twice, an' he don't tarry none, but wheels his +wearied pony, gives a yell, an' goes surgin' off. + +"But Silver Phil's got down to the turn of that evil deal of his +existence. He ain't two hundred yards when Dan Boggs is in the saddle +an' ridin' hard. Dan's bronco runs three foot for every one of the +pony of Silver Phil's; which that beaten an' broken cayouse is eighty +miles from his last mouthful of grass. + +"As Dan begins to crowd him, Silver Phil turns in the saddle an' +shoots. The lead goes 'way off yonder--wild. Dan, grim an' silent, +rides on without returnin' the fire. + +"'Which I wouldn't dishonour them guns of mine,' says Dan, explainin' +later the pheenomenon of him not shootin' none, 'which I wouldn't +dishonour them guns by usin' 'em on varmints like this yere Silver +Phil.' + +"As Silver Phil reorganises for a second shot his bronco stumbles. +Silver Phil pitches from the saddle an' strikes the grass to one side. +As he half rises, Dan lowers on him like the swoop of a hawk. It's as +though Dan's goin' to snatch a handkerchief from the ground. + +"As Dan flashes by, he swings low from the saddle an' his right hand +takes a troo full grip on that outlaw's shoulder. Dan has the thews +an' muscles of a cinnamon b'ar, an' Silver Phil is only a scrap of a +man. As Dan straightens up in the stirrups, he heaves this Silver Phil +on high to the length of his long arm; an' then he dashes him ag'inst +the flint-hard earth; which the manoover--we-all witnesses it from +mebby a quarter of a mile--which the manoover that a-way is shore +remorseless! This Silver Phil is nothin' but shattered bones an' +bleedin' pulp. He strikes the plains like he's crime from the clouds +an' is dead without a quiver. + +"'Bury him? No!' says Old Man Enright to Dave Tutt who asks the +question. 'Let him find his bed where he falls. + +"While Enright speaks, an' as Dan rides up to us at the Red Light, a +prompt raven drops down over where this Silver Phil is layin'. Then +another raven an' another--black an' wide of wing--comes floatin' down. +A coyote yells--first with the short, sharp yelp, an' then with that +multiplied patter of laughter like forty wolves at once. That daylight +howl of the coyote alters tells of a death. Shore raven an' wolf is +gatherin'. As Enright says: 'This yere Silver Phil ain't likely to be +lonesome none to-night.' + +"'Did you kill him, Dan?' asks Faro Nell. + +"'Why, no, Nellie,' replies Dan, as he steps outen the stirrups an' +beams on Faro Nell. She's still a bit onstrung, bein' only a little +girl when all is said. 'Why, no, Nellie; I don't kill him speecific as +Wolfville onderstands the word; but I dismisses him so effectual the +kyard shore falls the same for Silver Phil.'" + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +Colonel Sterett's Panther Hunt, + +"Panthers, what we-all calls 'mountain lions,'" observed the Old +Cattleman, wearing meanwhile the sapient air of him who feels equipped +of his subject, "is plenty furtive, not to say mighty sedyoolous to +skulk. That's why a gent don't meet up with more of 'em while +pirootin' about in the hills. Them cats hears him, or they sees him, +an' him still ignorant tharof; an' with that they bashfully withdraws. +Which it's to be urged in favour of mountain lions that they never +forces themse'fs on no gent; they're shore considerate, that a-way, an' +speshul of themse'fs. If one's ever hurt, you can bet it won't be a +accident. However, it ain't for me to go 'round impugnin' the motives +of no mountain lion; partic'lar when the entire tribe is strangers to +me complete. But still a love of trooth compels me to concede that if +mountain lions ain't cowardly, they're shore cautious a lot. Cattle +an' calves they passes up as too bellicose, an' none of 'em ever faces +any anamile more warlike than a baby colt or mebby a half-grown deer. +I'm ridin' along the Caliente once when I hears a crashin' in the +bushes on the bluff above--two hundred foot high, she is, an' as sheer +as the walls of this yere tavern. As I lifts my eyes, a fear-frenzied +mare an' colt comes chargin' up an' projects themse'fs over the +precipice an' lands in the valley below. They're dead as Joolius +Caesar when I rides onto 'em, while a brace of mountain lions is +skirtin' up an' down the aige of the bluff they leaps from, mewin' an' +lashin' their long tails in hot enthoosiasm. Shore, the cats has been +chasin' the mare an' foal, an' they locoes 'em to that extent they +don't know where they're headin' an' makes the death jump I relates. I +bangs away with my six-shooter, but beyond givin' the mountain lions a +convulsive start I can't say I does any execootion. They turns an' +goes streakin' it through the pine woods like a drunkard to a barn +raisin'. + +"Timid? Shore! They're that timid seminary girls compared to 'em is +as sternly courageous as a passel of buccaneers. Out in Mitchell's +canyon a couple of the Lee-Scott riders cuts the trail of a mountain +lion and her two kittens. Now whatever do you-all reckon this old +tabby does? Basely deserts her offsprings without even barin' a tooth, +an' the cow-punchers takes 'em gently by their tails an' beats out +their joovenile brains. That's straight; that mother lion goes +swarmin' up the canyon like she ain't got a minute to live. An' you +can gamble the limit that where a anamile sees its children perish +without frontin' up for war, it don't possess the commonest roodiments +of sand. Sech, son, is mountain lions. + +"It's one evenin' in the Red Light when Colonel Sterett, who's got +through his day's toil on that Coyote paper he's editor of, onfolds +concernin' a panther round-up which he pulls off in his yooth. + +"'This panther hunt,' says Colonel Sterett, as he fills his third +tumbler, 'occurs when mighty likely I'm goin' on seventeen winters. +I'm a leader among my young companions at the time; in fact, I allers +is. An' I'm proud to say that my soopremacy that a-way is doo to the +dom'nant character of my intellects. I'm ever bright an' sparklin' as +a child, an' I recalls how my aptitoode for learnin' promotes me to be +regyarded as the smartest lad in my set. If thar's visitors, to the +school, or if the selectmen invades that academy to sort o' size us up, +the teacher allers plays me on 'em. I'd go to the front for the +outfit. Which I'm wont on sech harrowin' o'casions to recite a +ode--the teacher's done wrote it himse'f--an' which is entitled +Napoleon's Mad Career. Thar's twenty-four stanzas to it; an' while +these interlopin' selectmen sets thar lookin' owley an' sagacious, I'd +wallop loose with the twenty-four verses, stampin' up and down, an' +accompanyin' said recitations with sech a multitood of reckless +gestures, it comes plenty clost to backin' everybody plumb outen the +room. Yere's the first verse: + + I'd drink an' sw'ar an' r'ar an' t'ar + An' fall down in the mud, + While the y'earth for forty miles about + Is kivered with my blood. + +"'You-all can see from that speciment that our schoolmaster ain't +simply flirtin' with the muses when he originates that epic; no sir, he +means business; an' whenever I throws it into the selectmen, I does it +jestice. The trustees used to silently line out for home when I +finishes, an' never a yeep. It stuns 'em; it shore fills 'em to the +brim! + +"'As I gazes r'arward,' goes on the Colonel, as by one rapt impulse he +uplifts both his eyes an' his nosepaint, 'as I gazes r'arward, I says, +on them sun-filled days, an' speshul if ever I gets betrayed into +talkin' about 'em, I can hardly t'ar myse'f from the subject. I +explains yeretofore, that not only by inclination but by birth, I'm a +shore-enough 'ristocrat. This captaincy of local fashion I assoomes at +a tender age. I wears the record as the first child to don shoes +throughout the entire summer in that neighbourhood; an' many a time an' +oft does my yoothful but envy-eaten compeers lambaste me for the +insultin' innovation. But I sticks to my moccasins; an' to-day shoes +in the Bloo Grass is almost as yooniversal as the licker habit. + +"'Thar dawns a hour, however, when my p'sition in the van of Kaintucky +_ton_ comes within a ace of bein' ser'ously shook. It's on my way to +school one dewey mornin' when I gets involved all inadvertent in a +onhappy rupture with a polecat. I never does know how the +misonderstandin' starts. After all, the seeds of said dispoote is by +no means important; it's enough to say that polecat finally has me +thoroughly convinced. + +Followin' the difference an' my defeat, I'm witless enough to keep +goin' on to school, whereas I should have returned homeward an' cast +myse'f upon my parents as a sacred trust. Of course, when I'm in +school I don't go impartin' my troubles to the other chil'en; I +emyoolates the heroism of the Spartan boy who stands to be eat by a +fox, an' keeps 'em to myself. But the views of my late enemy is not to +be smothered; they appeals to my young companions; who tharupon puts up +a most onneedful riot of coughin's an' sneezin's. But nobody knows me +as the party who's so pungent. + +"'It's a tryin' moment. I can see that, once I'm located, I'm goin' to +be as onpop'lar as a b'ar in a hawg pen; I'll come tumblin' from my +pinnacle in that proud commoonity as the glass of fashion an' the mold +of form. You can go your bottom peso, the thought causes me to feel +plenty perturbed. + +"'At this peril I has a inspiration; as good, too, as I ever entertains +without the aid of rum. I determines to cast the opprobrium on some +other boy an' send the hunt of gen'ral indignation sweepin' along his +trail. + +"'Thar's a innocent infant who's a stoodent at this temple of childish +learnin' an' his name is Riley Bark. This Riley is one of them giant +children who's only twelve an' weighs three hundred pounds. An' in +proportions as Riley is a son of Anak, physical, he's dwarfed mental; +he ain't half as well upholstered with brains as a shepherd dog. +That's right; Riley's intellects, is like a fly in a saucer of syrup, +they struggles 'round plumb slow. I decides to uplift Riley to the +public eye as the felon who's disturbin' that seminary's sereenity. +Comin' to this decision, I p'ints at him where he's planted four seats +ahead, all tangled up in a spellin' book, an' says in a loud whisper to +a child who's sittin' next: + +"'Throw him out!' + +"'That's enough. No gent will ever realise how easy it is to direct a +people's sentiment ontil he take a whirl at the game. In two minutes +by the teacher's bull's-eye copper watch, every soul knows it's pore +Riley; an' in three, the teacher's done drug Riley out doors by the +ha'r of his head an' chased him home. Gents, I look back on that +yoothful feat as a triumph of diplomacy; it shore saves my standin' as +the Beau Brummel of the Bloo Grass. + +"'Good old days, them!' observes the Colonel mournfully, 'an' ones +never to come ag'in! My sternest studies is romances, an' the +peroosals of old tales as I tells you-all prior fills me full of moss +an' mockin' birds in equal parts. I reads deep of _Walter Scott_ an' +waxes to be a sharp on Moslems speshul. I dreams of the Siege of Acre, +an' Richard the Lion Heart; an' I simply can't sleep nights for honin' +to hold a tournament an' joust a whole lot for some fair lady's love. + +"'Once I commits the error of my career by joustin' with my brother +Jeff. This yere Jeff is settin' on the bank of the Branch fishin' for +bullpouts at the time, an' Jeff don't know I'm hoverin' near at all. +Jeff's reedic'lous fond of fishin'; which he'd sooner fish than read +_Paradise Lost_. I'm romancin' along, sim'larly bent, when I notes +Jeff perched on the bank. To my boyish imagination Jeff at once turns +to be a Paynim. I drops my bait box, couches my fishpole, an' emittin' +a impromptoo warcry, charges him. It's the work of a moment; Jeff's +onhossed an' falls into the Branch. + +"'But thar's bitterness to follow vict'ry. Jeff emerges like Diana +from the bath an' frales the wamus off me with a club. Talk of puttin' +a crimp in folks! Gents when Jeff's wrath is assuaged I'm all on one +side like the leanin' tower of Pisa. Jeff actooally confers a skew-gee +to my spinal column. + +"'A week later my folks takes me to a doctor. That practitioner puts +on his specs an' looks me over with jealous care. + +"'"Whatever's wrong with him, Doc?" says my father. + +"'"Nothin'," says the physician, "only your son Willyum's five inches +out o' plumb." + +"'Then he rigs a contraption made up of guy-ropes an' stay-laths, an' I +has to wear it; an' mebby in three or four weeks he's got me warped +back into the perpendic'lar.' + +"'But how about this cat hunt?" asks Dan Boggs. 'Which I don't aim to +be introosive none, but I'm camped yere through the second drink +waitin' for it, an' these procrastinations is makin' me kind o' batty.' + +"'That panther hunt is like this,' says the Colonel turnin' to Dan. +'At the age of seventeen, me an' eight or nine of my intimate brave +comrades founds what we-all denom'nates as the "Chevy Chase Huntin' +Club." Each of us maintains a passel of odds an' ends of dogs, an' at +stated intervals we convenes on hosses, an' with these fourscore curs +at our tails goes yellin' an' skally-hootin' up an' down the +countryside allowin' we're shore a band of Nimrods. + +"'The Chevy Chasers ain't been in bein' as a institootion over long +when chance opens a gate to ser'ous work. The deep snows in the +Eastern mountains it looks like has done drove a panther into our +neighbourhood. You could hear of him on all sides. Folks glimpses him +now an' then. They allows he's about the size of a yearlin' calf; an' +the way he pulls down sech feeble people as sheep or lays desolate some +he'pless henroost don't bother him a bit. This panther spreads a +horror over the county. Dances, pra'er meetin's, an' even poker +parties is broken up, an' the social life of that region begins to bog +down. Even a weddin' suffers; the bridesmaids stayin' away lest this +ferocious monster should show up in the road an' chaw one of 'em while +she's _en route_ for the scene of trouble. That's gospel trooth! the +pore deserted bride has to heel an' handle herse'f an' never a friend +to yoonite her sobs with hers doorin' that weddin' ordeal. The old +ladies present shakes their heads a heap solemn. + +"'"It's a worse augoory," says one, "than the hoots of a score of +squinch owls." + +"'When this reign of terror is at its height, the local eye is rolled +appealin'ly towards us Chevy Chasers. We rises to the opportoonity. +Day after day we're ridin' the hills an' vales, readin' the milk white +snow for tracks. An' we has success. One mornin' I comes up on two of +the Brackenridge boys an' five more of the Chevy Chasers settin' on +their hosses at the Skinner cross roads. Bob Crittenden's gone to turn +me out, they says. Then they p'ints down to a handful of close-wove +bresh an' stunted timber an' allows that this maraudin' cat-o-mount is +hidin' thar; they sees him go skulkin' in. + +"'Gents, I ain't above admittin' that the news puts my heart to a +canter. I'm brave; but conflicts with wild an' savage beasts is to me +a novelty an' while I faces my fate without a flutter, I'm yere to say +I'd sooner been in pursoot of minks or raccoons or some varmint whose +grievous cap'bilities I can more ackerately stack up an' in whose merry +ways I'm better versed. However, the dauntless blood of my grandsire +mounts in my cheek; an' as if the shade of that old Trojan is thar +personal to su'gest it, I searches forth a flask an' renoos my sperit; +thus qualified for perils, come in what form they may, I resolootely +stands my hand. + +"'Thar's forty dogs if thar's one in our company as we pauses at the +Skinner crossroads. An' when the Crittenden yooth returns, he brings +with him the Rickett boys an' forty added dogs. Which it's worth a +ten-mile ride to get a glimpse of that outfit of canines! Thar's every +sort onder the canopy: thar's the stolid hound, the alert fice, the +sapient collie; that is thar's individyool beasts wherein the hound, or +fice, or collie seems to preedominate as a strain. The trooth is +thar's not that dog a-whinin' about our hosses' fetlocks who ain't +proudly descended from fifteen different tribes, an' they shorely makes +a motley mass meetin'. Still, they're good, zealous dogs; an' as +they're going to go for'ard an' take most of the resks of that panther, +it seems invidious to criticise 'em. + +"'One of the Twitty boys rides down an' puts the eighty or more dogs +into the bresh. The rest of us lays back an' strains our eyes. Thar +he is! A shout goes up as we descries the panther stealin' off by a +far corner. He's headin' along a hollow that's full of bresh an' baby +timber an' runs parallel with the pike. Big an' yaller he is; we can +tell from the slight flash we gets of him as he darts into a second +clump of bushes. With a cry--what young Crittenden calls a "view +halloo,"--we goes stampedin' down the pike in pursoot. + +"'Our dogs is sta'nch; they shore does themse'fs proud. Singin' in +twenty keys, reachin' from growls to yelps an' from yelps to shrillest +screams, they pushes dauntlessly on the fresh trail of their terrified +quarry. Now an' then we gets a squint of the panther as he skulks from +one copse to another jest ahead. Which he's goin' like a arrow; no +mistake! As for us Chevy Chasers, we parallels the hunt, an' +continyoos poundin' the Skinner turnpike abreast of the pack, ever an' +anon givin' a encouragin' shout as we briefly sights our game. + +"'Gents,' says Colonel Sterett, as he ag'in refreshes himse'f, 'it's +needless to go over that hunt in detail. We hustles the flyin' demon +full eighteen miles, our faithful dogs crowdin' close an' breathless at +his coward heels. Still, they don't catch up with him; he streaks it +like some saffron meteor. + +"'Only once does we approach within strikin' distance; that's when he +crosses at old Stafford's whiskey still. As he glides into view, +Crittenden shouts: + +"'"Thar he goes!" + +"'For myse'f I'm prepared. I've got one of these misguided +cap-an'-ball six-shooters that's built doorin' the war; an' I cuts that +hardware loose! This weepon seems a born profligate of lead, for the +six chambers goes off together. Which you should have seen the Chevy +Chasers dodge! An' well they may; that broadside ain't in vain! My +aim is so troo that one of the r'armost dogs evolves a howl an' rolls +over; then he sets up gnawin' an' lickin' his off hind laig in frantic +alternations. That hunt is done for him. We leaves him doctorin' +himse'f an' picks him up two hours later on our triumphant return. + +"'As I states, we harries that foogitive panther for eighteen miles an' +in our hot ardour founders two hosses. Fatigue an' weariness begins to +overpower us; also our prey weakens along with the rest. In the half +glimpses we now an' ag'in gets of him its plain that both pace an' +distance is tellin' fast. Still, he presses on; an' as thar's no spur +like fear, that panther holds his distance. + +"'But the end comes. We've done run him into a rough, wild stretch of +country where settlements is few an' cabins roode. Of a sudden, the +panther emerges onto the road an' goes rackin' along the trail. We +pushes our spent steeds to the utmost. + +"'Thar's a log house ahead; out in the stump-filled lot in front is a +frowsy woman an' five small children. The panther leaps the rickety +worm-fence an' heads straight as a bullet for the cl'arin'! Horrors! +the sight freezes our marrows! Mad an' savage, he's doo to bite a hunk +outen that devoted household! Mutooally callin' to each other, we +goads our hosses to the utmost. We gain on the panther! He may wound +but he won't have time to slay that fam'ly. + +"'Gents, it's a soopreme moment! The panther makes for the female +squatter an' her litter, we pantin' an' pressin' clost behind. The +panther is among 'em; the woman an' the children seems transfixed by +the awful spectacle an' stands rooted with open eyes an' mouths. Our +emotions shore beggars deescriptions. + +"'Now ensooes a scene to smite the hardiest of us with dismay. No +sooner does the panther find himse'f in the midst of that he'pless bevy +of little ones, than he stops, turns round abrupt, an' sets down on his +tail; an' then upliftin' his muzzle he busts into shrieks an' yells an' +howls an' cries, a complete case of dog hysterics! That's what he is, +a great yeller dog; his reason is now a wrack because we harasses him +the eighteen miles. + +"'Thar's a ugly outcast of a squatter, mattock in hand, comes tumblin' +down the hillside from some'ers out back of the shanty where he's been +grubbin': + +"'"What be you-all eediots chasin' my dog for?" demands this onkempt +party. Then he menaces us with the implement. + +"'We makes no retort but stands passive. The great orange brute whose +nerves has been torn to rags creeps to the squatter an' with mournful +howls explains what we've made him suffer. + +"'No, thar's nothin' further to do an' less to be said. That +cavalcade, erstwhile so gala an' buoyant, drags itself wearily +homeward, the exhausted dogs in the r'ar walkin' stiff an' sore like +their laigs is wood. For more'n a mile the complainin' howls of the +hysterical yeller dog is wafted to our y'ears. Then they ceases; an' +we figgers his sympathizin' master has done took him into the shanty +an' shet the door. + +"'No one comments on this adventure, not a word is heard. Each is +silent ontil we mounts the Big Murray hill. As we collects ourse'fs on +this eminence one of the Brackenridge boys holds up his hand for a +halt. "Gents," he says, as--hosses, hunters an' dogs--we-all gathers +'round, "gents, I moves you the Chevy Chase Huntin' Club yereby stands +adjourned _sine die_." Thar's a moment's pause, an' then as by one +impulse every gent, hoss an' dog, says "Ay!" It's yoonanimous, an' +from that hour till now the Chevy Chase Huntin' Club ain't been nothin' +save tradition. But that panther shore disappears; it's the end of his +vandalage; an' ag'in does quadrilles, pra'rs, an poker resoom their +wonted sway. That's the end; an' now, gents, if Black Jack will caper +to his dooties we'll uplift our drooped energies with the usual forty +drops." + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +How Faro Nell Dealt Bank. + +"Riches," remarked the Old Cattleman, "riches says you! Neither +you-all nor any other gent is competent to state whether in the +footure he amasses wealth or not. The question is far beyond the +throw of your rope." + +My friend's tone breathed a note of strong contradiction while his +glance was the glance of experience. I had said that I carried no +hope of becoming rich; that the members of my tribe were born with +their hands open and had such hold of money as a riddle has of water. +It was this which moved him to expostulatory denial. + +"This matter of wealth, that a-way," he continued, "is a mighty sight +a question of luck. Shore, a gent has to have capacity to grasp a +chance an' savey sufficient to get his chips down right. But this +chance, an' whether it offers itse'f to any specific sport, is +frequent accident an' its comin' or failure to come depends on +conditions over which the party about to be enriched ain't got no +control. That's straight, son! You backtrack any fortune to its +beginning an some'ers along the trail or at the farthest end you'll +come up with the fact that it took a accident or two, what we-all +darkened mortals calls 'luck,' to make good the play. It's like +gettin' shot gettin' rich is; all you has to do is be present +personal at the time, an' the bullet does the rest. + +"You distrusts these doctrines. You shore won't if you sets down +hard an' thinks. Suppose twenty gents has made a surround an' is +huntin' a b'ar. Only one is goin' to down him. An' in his clumsy +blunderin' the b'ar is goin' to select his execootioner himse'f. +That's a fact; the party who downs the b'ar, final, ain't goin' to +pick the b'ar out; the b'ar's goin' to pick him out. An' it's the +same about wealth; one gent gets the b'ar an' the other nineteen--an' +they're as cunnin' an' industr'ous as the lucky party--don't get +nothing--don't even get a shot. I repeats tharfore, that you-all +settin' yere this evenin', firin' off aimless observations, don't +know whether you'll quit rich or not." + +At the close of his dissertation, my talkative companion puffed a +cloud which seemed to hang above his venerable head in a fashion of +heavy blue approval. I paused as one impressed by the utter wisdom +of the old gentleman. Then I took another tack. + +"Speaking of wealth," I said, "tell me concerning the largest money +you ever knew to be won or lost at faro--tell me a gambling story." + +"Tell you-all a gamblin' tale," he repeated, and then mused as if +lost in retrospection. "If I hesitates it's because of a multitoode +of incidents from which to draw. I've beheld some mighty cur'ous +doin's at the gamblin' tables. Once I knows a party who sinks his +hopeless head on the layout an' dies as he loses his last chip. This +don't happen in Wolfville none. No, I don't say folks ain't cashed +in at farobank in that excellent hamlet an' gone singin' to their +home above; but it ain't heart disease. Usual it's guns; the same +bein' invoked by sech inadvertencies as pickin' up some other gent's +bet. + +"Tell you-all a story about gamblin'! Now I reckons the time Faro +Nell rescoos Cherokee Hall from rooin is when I sees the most +_dinero_ changed in at one play. You can gamble that's a thrillin' +eepisode when Faro Nell steps in between Cherokee an' the destroyer. +It's the gossip of the camp for days, an' when Wolfville discusses +anything for days that outfit's plumb moved. + +"This gent who crowds Cherokee to the wall performs the feat +deliberate. He organises a sort o' campaign ag'in Cherokee; what you +might term a fiscal dooel, an' at the finish he has Cherokee +corralled for his last _peso_. It's at that p'int Nell cuts in an' +redeems the sityooation a heap. It's all on the squar'; this +invadin' sport simply outlucks the bank. That, an' the egreegious +limit Cherokee gives him, is what does the trick. + +"In Wolfville, we-all allers recalls that sharp-set gent who comes +after Cherokee with respect. In fact he wins our encomiums before he +sets in ag'in Cherokee--before ever he gets his second drink at the +Red Light bar. He comes ramblin' over with Old Monte from Tucson one +evenin'; that's the first glimpse we has of him. An' for a hour, +mebby, followin' his advent, seein' the gen'ral herd is busy with the +mail, he has the Red Light to himse'f. + +"On this yere o'casion, thar's likewise present in Wolfville--he's +been infringin' 'round some three days--a onsettled an' migratory +miscreant who's name is Ugly Collins. He's in a heap of ill repoote +in the territories, this Ugly Collins is; an' only he contreebutes +the information when he arrives in camp that his visit is to be +mighty temp'rary, Enright would have signed up Jack Moore to take his +guns an' stampede him a lot. + +"At the time I'm talkin' of, as thar's no one who's that abandoned as +to go writin' letters to Ugly Collins, it befalls he's plenty +footloose. This leesure on the part of Ugly Collins turns out some +disastrous for that party. Not havin' no missives to read leaves him +free to go weavin' about permiscus an' it's while he's strayin' here +an' thar that he tracks up on this stranger who's come after Cherokee. + +"Ugly Collins sees our pilgrim in the Red Light an', except Black +Jack,--who of course is present offishul--the stranger's alone. He's +weak an' meek an' shook by a cough that sounds like the overture to a +fooneral. Ugly Collins, who's a tyrannizin' cowardly form of +outcast, sizes him up as a easy prey. He figgers he'll have a heap +of evil fun with him, Ugly Collins does. Tharupon he approaches the +consumptive stranger: + +"'You-all seems plenty ailin', pard,' says Ugly Collins. + +"'Which I shore ain't over peart none,' retorts the stranger. + +"'An' you-all can put down a bet,' returns Ugly Collins, 'I learns of +your ill-health with regrets. It's this a-way: I ain't had no +exercise yet this evenin'; an' as I tracks in yere, I registers a vow +to wallop the first gent I meets up with to whom I've not been +introdooced ;--merely by way of stretchin' my muscles. Now I must +say--an' I admits it with sorrow--that you-all is that onhappy sport. +It's no use; I knows I'll loathe myse'f for crawlin' the hump of a +gent who's totterin' on the brink of the grave; but whatever else can +I do? Vows is vows an' must be kept, so you might as well prepare +yourse'f for a cloud of sudden an' painful vicissitoodes.' + +"As Ugly Collins says this he kind o' reaches for the invalid gent +where he's camped in a cha'r. It's a onfortunate gesture; the +invalid--as quick as a rattlesnake,--prodooces a derringer, same as +Doc Peets allers packs, from his surtoot an' the bullet carries away +most of Ugly Collins' lower jaw. + +"'You-all is goin' to be a heap sight more of a audience than a +orator yereafter, Collins,' says Doc Peets, as he ties up the +villain's visage that a-way. 'Also, you oughter be less reckless an' +get the address of your victims before embarkin' on them +skelp-collectin' enterprises of yours. That gent you goes ag'inst is +Doc Holliday; as hard a game as lurks anywhere between the Slope an' +the Big Muddy.' + +"Does the Stranglers do anything to this Holliday? Why, no, not +much; all they does is present him with a Colt's-44 along with the +compliments of the camp. + +"'An' it's to be deplored,' says Enright, when he makes the +presentation speech to Holliday, 'that you-all don't have this weepon +when you cuts loose at Collins instead of said jimcrow derringer. In +sech events, that hoss-thief's death would have been assured. Shore! +shootin' off Collins' jaw is good as far as it goes, but it can't be +regyarded as no sech boon as downin' him complete. + +"It's after supper when this Holliday encounters Cherokee; the two +has a conference. This Holliday lays bar' his purpose. + +"'Which I'm yere,' says this Holliday, 'not only for your money, but +I wants the camp.' Then he goes for'ard an' proposes that they plays +till one is broke; an, if it's Cherokee who goes down, he is to vamos +the outfit while Holliday succeeds to his game. 'An' the winner is +to stake his defeated adversary to one thousand dollars wherewith to +begin life anew,' concloodes this Holliday. + +"'Which what you states seems like agreeable offers,' says Cherokee, +an' he smiles clever an' gentlemanly. 'How strong be you-all, may I +ask?' + +"'Thirty thousand dollars in thirty bills,' replies this Holliday. +'An' now may I enquire how strong be you? I also likes to know how +long a trail I've got to travel.' + +"'My roll is about forty thousand big,' says Cherokee. Then he goes +on: 'It's all right; I'll open a game for you at second drink time +sharp.' + +"'That's comfortin' to hear,' retorts this Holliday. 'The +chances,--what with splits an' what with the ten thousand you +oversizes me,--is nacherally with you; but I takes 'em. If I lose, I +goes back with a even thousand; if I win, you-all hits the trail with +a thousand, while I'm owner of your roll an' bank. Does that +onderstandin' go?' + +"'It goes!' says Cherokee. Then he turns off for a brief powwow with +Faro Nell. + +"'But thar's one thing you-all forgets, Cherokee,' says Nell. 'If he +breaks you, he's got to go on an' break me. I've a bundle of three +thousand; he's got to get it all before ever the play is closed. +Tell this yere Holliday party that.' + +"Cherokee argues ag'in it; but Nell stamps 'round an' starts to weep +some, an' at that, like every other troo gent, he gives in abject. + +"'Thar's a bet I overlooks,' observes Cherokee, when he resoomes his +talk with this Holliday; 'it's my partner. It's only a little matter +of three thousand, but the way the scheme frames itse'f up, after I'm +down an' out, you'll have to break my partner before Wolfville's all +your own.' + +"'That's eminent satisfactory,' returns this Holliday. 'An' I freely +adds that your partner is a dead game sport to take so brief a +fortune an'--win all, lose all--go after more'n twenty times as much. +Your partner's a shore enough optimist that a-way.' + +"Cherokee don't make no retort. This Holliday ain't posted none that +the partner Cherokee's mentionin' is Faro Nell, an' Cherokee allows +he won't onbosom himse'f on that p'int onless his hand is forced. + +"When the time arrives to open the game, the heft of Wolfville's +public is gathered at the Red Light. The word goes 'round as to the +enterprisin' Holliday bein' out for Cherokee's entire game; an' the +prospect of seein' a limit higher than a cat's back, an' a dooel to +the death, proves mighty pop'lar. The play opens to a full house, +shore! + +"'What limit do you give me?' says this Holliday, with a sort o' +cough, at the same time settin' in opposite to Cherokee. 'Be +lib'ral; I ain't more'n a year to live, an' I've got to play 'em high +an' hard to get average action. If I'm in robust health now, with a +long, useful life before me, the usual figgers would do. Considerin' +my wasted health, however, I shore hopes you'll say something like +the even thousand.' + +"'Which I'll do better than that,' returns Cherokee, as he snaps the +deck in the box, 'I'll let you fix the limit to suit yourse'f. Make +it the ceilin' if the sperit moves you.' + +"'That's gen'rous!' says Holliday. 'An' to mark my appreciation +tharof, I'll jest nacherally take every resk of splits an' put ten +thousand in the pot, coppered; ten thousand in the big squar'; an' +ten thousand, coppered, on the high kyard.' + +"Son, we-all sports standin' lookin' on draws a deep breath. Thirty +thousand in three ten thousand dollar bets, an' all on the layout at +once, marks a epock in Wolfville business life wherefrom folks can +onblushin'ly date time! Thar it lays however, an' the two sharps +most onmoved tharby is Cherokee an' Holliday themse'fs. + +"'Turn your game!' says this Holliday, when his money is down, an' +leanin' back to light a seegyar. + +"Cherokee makes the turn. Never does I witness action so sudden an' +complete! It's shore the sharpest! The top kyard as the deck lays +in the box is a ten-spot. An' as the papers is shoved forth, how do +you-all reckon they falls! I'm a Mexican! if they don't come +seven-king! This Holliday wins all along; Cherokee is out thirty +thousand an' only three kyards showed! How's that for perishin' +flesh an' blood! + +"I looks at Cherokee; his face is as ca'm as a Injun's; he's too +finely fibred a sport to so much as let a eyelash quiver. This +Holliday is equally onemotional. Cherokee shoves over three yaller +chips. + +"'Call 'em ten thousand each,' says Cherokee. Then he waits for this +Holliday to place his next bets. + +"'Since you-all has exackly that sum left in your treasury,' observes +this Holliday, puffin' his seegyar, 'I reckons I'll let one of these +yaller tokens go, coppered, on the high kyard ag'in. You-all doubles +or breaks right yere.' + +"The turn falls trey-eight. Cherokee takes in that ten thousand +dollar chip. + +"'Bein's that I'm still playin' on velvet,' remarks this Holliday, +an' his tone is listless an' languid like he's only half interested, +'I'll go twenty thousand on the high kyard, open. This trip we omits +the copper.' + +"The first kyard to show is a deuce. It's better than ten to one +Cherokee will win. But disapp'intment chokes the camp; the next +kyard is a ace, an' Cherokee's swept off his moccasins. The bank is +broke; and to signify as much, Cherokee turns his box on its side, +counts over forty thousand dollars to this Holliday an' gets up from +the dealer's cha'r. + +"As Cherokee rises, Faro Nell slides off the lookout's stool an' into +the vacated cha'r. When Cherokee loses the last bet I hears Nell's +teeth come together with a click. I don't dare look towards her at +the time; but now, when she turns the box back, takes out the deck, +riffles an' returns it to its place I gives her a glance. Nell's as +game as Cherokee. As she sets over ag'inst this lucky invalid her +colour is high an' her eyes like two stars. + +"'An' now you've got to break me,' says Nell to this Holliday. +'Also, we restores the _statu quo_, as Colonel Sterett says in that +_Coyote_ paper, an' the limit retreats to a even hundred dollars.' + +"'Be you-all the partner Mister Hall mentions?' asks this Holliday, +at the same time takin' off his sombrero an' throwin' away his +seegyar. + +"Nell says she is. + +"'Miss,' says this Holliday, 'I feels honoured to find myse'f across +the layout from so much sperit an' beauty. A limit of one hundred, +says you; an' your word is law! As a first step then, give me three +thousand dollars worth of chips an' make 'em fifty dollars each. +I'll take the same chance with you on that question of splits I does +former, an' I wants a hundred on every kyard, middle to win ag'in the +ends.' + +"The deal begins; Nell is winner from the jump; she takes in three +bets to lose one plumb down to the turn. This Holliday calls the +turn for the limit; an' loses. The kyards go into the box ag'in an' +a next deal ensooes. So it continyoos; an' Nell beats this Holliday +hard for half a hour. Nell sees she's in luck; an' she feels that +strong she concloods to press it some. + +"'The limit's five hundred!' says Nell to this Holliday. 'Come after +me!' + +"Holliday bows like he's complimented. 'I'm after you; an' I comes +a-runnin',' he says. + +"Down goes his money all over the lay-out; only now its five hundred +instead of one hundred. + +"It's no avail, this Holliday still loses. At the end of a hour Nell +sizes up her roll; she's a leetle over forty thousand strong; jest +where Cherokee stands at the start. + +"Nell pauses as she's about to put the deck in the box for a deal. +She looks at this Holliday a heap thoughtful. That look excites Dan +Boggs who's been on the brink of fits since ever the play begins, +he's that 'motional. + +"'Don't raise the limit, Nell!' says Dan in a awful whisper. 'That's +where Cherokee's weak at the go-off. He ought never to have thrown +away the limit.' + +"Nell casts her eyes--they're burnin' like coals!--on Dan. I can see +his bluff about Cherokee bein' weak has done decided her mind. + +"'Cherokee does right,' says Nell to Dan, 'like Cherokee allers does. +An' I'll do the same as Cherokee. Stranger,' goes on Nell, turnin' +from Dan to this Holliday; 'go as far as you likes. The bridle's off +the hoss.' + +"'An' much obleeged to you, Miss!' says this Holliday, with another +of them p'lite bows. 'As the kyards goes in the box, I makes you the +same three bets I makes first to Mister Hall. Ten thousand, +coppered, in the pot; ten thousand, open, in the big squar'; an' ten +thousand on the high kyard, coppered.' + +"'An' now as then,' says Nell, sort o' catchin' her breath, 'the +ten-spot's the soda kyard!' + +"Son, it won't happen ag'in in a billion years! Nell's right hand +shakes a trifle--she's only a child, mind, an' ain't got the nerves +that goes with case-hardened sports--as she shoves the ten-spot +forth. But it's comin' her way; her luck holds; as certain as we all +sets yere drinkin' toddy, the same two kyards shows for her as for +Cherokee, but this time they falls 'king-seven'; the bank wins, an' +pore Holliday is cleaned out. + +"'Thar, Cherokee,' says Nell, an' thar's a soft smile an' a sigh of +deep content goes with the observation, 'thar's your bank ag'in; only +it's thirty thousand stronger than it is four hours ago.' + +"'Your bank, ladybird, you means!' says Cherokee. + +"'Well, our bank, then,' retorts Nell. 'What's the difference? +Don't you-all tell me we're partners?' Then Nell motions to Black +Jack. 'The drinks is on me, Jack,' she says; 'see what the house +will have.'" + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +How The Raven Died. + +"Which if you-all is out to hear of Injuns, son," observed the Old +Cattleman, doubtfully, "the best I can do is shet my eyes an' push along +regyardless, like a cayouse in a storm of snow. But I don't guarantee no +facts; none whatever! I never does bend myse'f to severe study of +savages an' what notions I packs concernin' 'em is the casual frootes of +what I accidental hears an' what I sees. It's only now an' then, as I +observes former, that Injuns invades Wolfville; an' when they does, +we-all scowls 'em outen camp--sort o' makes a sour front, so as to break +'em early of habits of visitin' us. We shore don't hone none to have 'em +hankerin' 'round. + +"Nacherally, I makes no doubt that if you goes clost to Injuns an' +studies their little game you finds some of 'em good an' some bad, some +gaudy an' some sedate, some cu'rous an' some indifferent, same as you +finds among shore-enough folks. It's so with mules an' broncos; +wherefore, then, may not these differences exist among Injuns? Come +squar' to the turn, you-all finds white folks separated the same. Some +gents follows off one waggon track an' some another; some even makes a +new trail. + +"Speakin' of what's opposite in folks, I one time an' ag'in sees two +white chiefs of scouts who frequent comes pirootin' into Wolfville from +the Fort. Each has mebby a score of Injuns at his heels who pertains to +him personal. One of these scout chiefs is all buck-skins, fringes, +beads an' feathers from y'ears to hocks, while t'other goes garbed in a +stiff hat with a little jim crow rim--one of them kind you deenom'nates +as a darby--an' a diag'nal overcoat; one chief looks like a dime novel on +a spree an' t'other as much like the far East as he saveys how. An' yet, +son, this voylent person in buckskins is a Second Lootenent--a mere boy, +he is--from West P'int; while that outcast in the reedic'lous hat is +foaled on the plains an' never does go that clost to the risin' sun as to +glimpse the old Missouri. The last form of maverick bursts frequent into +Western bloom; it's their ambition, that a-way, to deloode you into +deemin' 'em as fresh from the States as one of them tomatter airtights. + +"Thar's old gent Jeffords; he's that sort. Old Jeffords lives for long +with the Apaches; he's found among 'em when Gen'ral Crook--the old 'Grey +Fox'--an' civilisation and gatlin' guns comes into Arizona arm in arm. I +used to note old Jeffords hibernatin' about the Oriental over in Tucson. +I shore reckons he's procrastinatin' about thar yet, if the Great Sperit +ain't done called him in. As I says, old Jeffords is that long among the +Apaches back in Cochise's time that the mem'ry of man don't run none to +the contrary. An' yet no gent ever sees old Jeffords wearin' anything +more savage than a long-tail black surtoot an' one of them stove pipe +hats. Is Jeffords dangerous? No, you-all couldn't call him a distinct +peril; still, folks who goes devotin' themse'fs to stirrin' Jeffords up +jest to see if he's alive gets disasterous action. He has long grey ha'r +an' a tangled white beard half-way down his front; an' with that old plug +hat an' black coat he's a sight to frighten children or sour milk! +Still, Jeffords is all right. As long as towerists an' other inquisitive +people don't go pesterin' Jeffords, he shore lets 'em alone. Otherwise, +you might as well be up the same saplin' with a cinnamon b'ar; which +you'd most likely hear something drop a lot! + +"For myse'f, I likes old Jeffords, an' considers him a pleasin' +conundrum. About tenth drink time he'd take a cha'r an' go camp by +himse'f in a far corner, an' thar he'd warble hymns. Many a time as I +files away my nosepaint in the Oriental have I been regaled with, + + Jesus, Lover of my soul, + Let me to Thy bosom fly, + While the nearer waters roll, + While the tempest still is high, + +as emanatin' from Jeffords where he's r'ared back conductin' some +personal services. Folks never goes buttin' in interferin' with these +concerts; which it's cheaper to let him sing. + +"Speakin' of Injuns, as I su'gests, I never does see over-much of 'em in +Wolfville. An' my earlier experiences ain't thronged with 'em neither, +though while I'm workin' cattle along the Red River I does carom on +Injuns more or less. Thar's one old hostile I recalls speshul; he's a +fool Injun called Black Feather;--Choctaw, he is. This Black Feather's +weakness is fire-water; he thinks more of it than some folks does of +children. + +"Black Feather used to cross over to where Dick Stocton maintains a store +an' licker house on the Upper Hawgthief. Of course, no gent sells these +Injuns licker. It's ag'in the law; an' onless you-all is onusual eager +to make a trip to Fort Smith with a marshal ridin' herd on you doorin' +said visit, impartin' of nosepaint to aborigines is a good thing not to +do. But Black Feather, he'd come over to Dick Stocton's an' linger +'round the bar'ls of Valley Tan, an' take a chance on stealin' a snifter +or two while Stocton's busy. + +"At last Stocton gets tired an' allows he'll lay for Black Feather. This +yere Stocton is a mighty reckless sport; he ain't carin' much whatever he +does do; he hates Injuns an' shot guns, an' loves licker, seven-up, an' +sin in any form; them's Stocton's prime characteristics. An' he gets +mighty weary of the whiskey-thievin' Black Feather, an' lays for him. + +"One evenin' this aggravatin' Black Feather crosses over an' takes to +ha'ntin' about Dick Stocton's licker room as is his wont. It looks like +Black Feather has already been buyin' whiskey of one of them boot-laig +parties who takes every chance an' goes among the Injuns an' sells 'em +nosepaint on the sly. 'Fore ever he shows up on the Upper Hawgthief that +time, this Black Feather gets nosepaint some'ers an' puts a whole quart +of it away in the shade; an' he shore exhibits symptoms. Which for one +thing he feels about four stories tall! + +"Stocton sets a trap for Black Feather. He fills up the tin cup into +which he draws that Valley Tan with coal-oil--karoseen you-all calls +it--an' leaves it, temptin' like, settin' on top a whiskey bar'l. Shore! +it's the first thing Black Feather notes. He sees his chance an' grabs +an' downs the karoseen; an' Stocton sort o' startin' for him, this Black +Feather gulps her down plump swift. The next second he cuts loose the +yell of that year, burns up about ten acres of land, and starts for Red +River. No, I don't know whether the karoseen hurts him none or not; but +he certainly goes squatterin' across the old Red River like a wounded +wild-duck, an' he never does come back no more. + +"But, son, as you sees, I don't know nothin' speshul or much touchin' +Injuns, an' if I'm to dodge the disgrace of ramblin' along in this +desultory way, I might better shift to a tale I hears Sioux Sam relate to +Doc Peets one time in the Red Light. This Sam is a Sioux, an a mighty +decent buck, considerin' he's Injun; Sam is servin' the Great Father as a +scout with the diag'nal-coat, darby-hat sharp I mentions. Peets gives +this saddle-tinted longhorn a 4-bit piece, an' he tells this yarn. It +sounds plenty childish; but you oughter b'ar in mind that savages, +mental, ain't no bigger nor older than ten year old young-ones among the +palefaces. + +"'This is the story my mother tells me,' says Sioux Sam, 'to show me the +evils of cur'osity. "The Great Sperit allows to every one the right to +ask only so many questions," says my mother, "an' when they ask one more +than is their right, they die." + +"'This is the story of the fate of _Kaw-kaw-chee_, the Raven, a Sioux +Chief who died long ago exackly as my mother told me. The Raven died +because he asked too many questions an' was too cur'ous. It began when +Sublette, who was a trader, came up the _Mitchi-zoor-rah_, the Big-Muddy, +an' was robbed by the Raven's people. Sublette was mad at this, an' said +next time he would bring the Sioux a present so they would not rob him. +So he brought a little cask of fire-water an' left it on the bank of the +Big-Muddy. Then Sublette went away, an' twenty of the Raven's young men +found the little cask. An' they were greedy an' did not tell the camp; +they drank the fire-water where it was found. + +"'The Raven missed his twenty young men an' when he went to spy for them, +behold! they were dead with their teeth locked tight an' their faces an' +bodies writhen an' twisted as the whirlwind twists the cottonwoods. Then +the Raven thought an' thought; an' he got very cur'ous to know why his +young men died so writhen an' twisted. The fire-water had a whirlwind in +it, an' the Raven was eager to hear. So he sent for Sublette. + + +"'Then the Raven an' Sublette had a big talk. They agreed not to hurt +each other; an' Sublette was to come an' go an' trade with the Sioux; an' +they would never rob him. + +"'At this, Sublette gave the Raven some of the whirlwind that so killed +an' twisted the twenty young men. It was a powder, white; an' it had no +smell. Sublette said its taste was bitter; but the Raven must not taste +it or it would lock up his teeth an' twist an' kill him. For to swallow +the white powder loosed the whirlwind on the man's heart an' it bent him +an' twisted him like the storms among the willows. + +"'But the Raven could give the powder to others. So the Raven gave it in +some deer's meat to his two squaws; an' they were twisted till they died; +an' when they would speak they couldn't, for their teeth were held tight +together an' no words came out of their mouths,--only a great foam. Then +the Raven gave it to others that he did not love; they were twisted an' +died. At last there was no more of the powder of the whirlwind; the +Raven must wait till Sublette came up the Big-Muddy again an' brought him +more. + +"'There was a man, the Gray Elk, who was of the Raven's people. The Gray +Elk was a _Choo-ayk-eed_, a great prophet. And the Gray Elk had a wife; +she was wise an' beautiful, an' her name was Squaw-who-has-dreams. But +Gray Elk called her _Kee-nee-moo-sha_, the Sweetheart. + +"'While the Raven waited for Sublette to bring him more powder of the +whirlwind, a star with a long tail came into the sky. This star with the +tail made the Raven heap cur'ous. He asked Gray Elk to tell him about +it, for he was a prophet. The Raven asked many questions; they fell from +him like leaves from a tree in the month of the first ice. So the Gray +Elk called _Chee-bee_, the Spirit; an' the Spirit told the Gray Elk. +Then the Gray Elk told the Raven.' + +"'It was not a tail, it was blood--star blood; an' the star had been bit +an' was wounded, but would get well. The Sun was the father of the +stars, an' the Moon was their mother. The Sun, _Gheezis_, tried ever to +pursue an' capture an' eat his children, the stars. So the stars all ran +an' hid when the Sun was about. But the stars loved their mother who was +good an' never hurt them; an' when the Sun went to sleep at night an' +_Coush-ee-wan_, the Darkness, shut his eyes, the Moon an' her children +came together to see each other. But the star that bled had been caught +by the Sun; it got out of his mouth but was wounded. Now it was +frightened, so it always kept its face to where the Sun was sleeping over +in the west. The bleeding star, _Sch-coo-dah_, would get well an' its +wound would heal. + +"'Then the Raven wanted to know how the Gray Elk knew all this. An' the +Gray Elk had the Raven into the medicine lodge that night; an' the Raven +heard the spirits come about an' heard their voices; but he could not +understand. Also, the Raven saw a wolf all fire, with wings like the +eagle which flew overhead. Also he heard the Thunder, _Boom-wa-wa_, +talking with the Gray Elk; but the Raven couldn't understand. The Gray +Elk told the Raven to draw his knife an' stab with it in the air outside +the medicine lodge. An' when he did, the Raven's blade an' hand came +back covered with blood. Still, the Raven was cur'ous an' kept askin' to +be told how the Gray Elk knew these things. An' the Gray Elk at last +took the Raven to the Great Bachelor Sycamore that lived alone, an' asked +the Raven if the Bachelor Sycamore was growing. An' the Raven said it +was. Then Gray Elk asked him how he knew it was growing. An' the Raven +said he didn't know. Then Gray Elk said he did not know how he knew +about _Sch-coo-dah_, the star that was bit. This made the Raven angry, +for he was very cur'ous; an' he thought the Gray Elk had two tongues. + +"'Then it came the month of the first young grass an' Sublette was back +for furs. Also he brought many goods; an' he gave to the Raven more of +the powder of the whirlwind in a little box, At once the Raven made a +feast of ducks for the Gray Elk; an' he gave him of the whirlwind powder; +an' at once his teeth came together an' the Gray Elk was twisted till he +died. + +"'Now no one knew that the Raven had the powder of the whirlwind, so they +could not tell why all these people were twisted and went to the Great +Spirit. But the Squaw-who-has-dreams saw that it was the Raven who +killed her husband, the Gray Elk, in a vision. Then the +Squaw-who-has-dreams went into the mountains four days an' talked with +_Moh-kwa_, the Bear who is the wisest of the beasts. The Bear said it +was the Raven who killed the Gray Elk an' told the Squaw-who-has-dreams +of the powder of the whirlwind. + +"'Then the Bear an' the Squaw-who-has-dreams made a fire an' smoked an' +laid a plot. The Bear did not know where to find the powder of the +whirlwind which the Raven kept always in a secret place. But the Bear +told the Squaw-who-has-dreams that she should marry the Raven an' watch +until she found where the powder of the whirlwind was kept in its secret +place; an' then she was to give some to the Raven, an' he, too, would be +twisted an' die. There was a great danger, though; the Raven would, +after the one day when they were wedded, want to kill the +Squaw-who-has-dreams. So to protect her, the Bear told her she must +begin to tell the Raven the moment she was married to him the +Story-that-never-ends. Then, because the Raven was more cur'ous than +even he was cruel, he would put off an' put off giving the powder of the +whirlwind to the Squaw-who-has-dreams, hoping to hear the end of the +Story-that-never-ends. Meanwhile the Squaw-who-has-dreams was to watch +the Raven until she found the powder of the whirlwind in its secret place. + +"'Then the wise Bear gave the Squaw-who-has-dreams a bowlful of words as +seed, so she might plant them an' raise a crop of talk to tell the +Story-that-never-ends. An' the Squaw-who-has-dreams planted the +seed-words, an' they grew an' grew an' she gathered sixteen bundles of +talk an' brought them to her wigwam. After that she put beads in her +hair, an' dyed her lips red, an' rubbed red on her cheeks, an' put on a +new blanket; an' when the Raven saw her, he asked her to marry him. So +they were wedded; an' the Squaw-who-has-dreams went to the teepee of the +Raven an' was his wife. + +"'But the Raven was old an' cunning like _Yah-mee-kee_, the Beaver, an' +he said, "He is not wise who keeps a squaw too long!" An' with that he +thought he would kill the Squaw-who-has-dreams the next day with the +powder of the whirlwind. But the Squaw-who-has-dreams first told the +Raven that she hated _When-dee-goo_, the Giant; an' that she should not +love the Raven until he had killed _When-dee-goo_. She knew the Giant +was too big an' strong for the Raven to kill with his lance, an' that he +must get his powder of the whirlwind; she would watch him an' learn its +secret place. The Raven said he would kill the Giant as the sun went +down next day. + +"'Then the Squaw-who-has-dreams told the Raven the first of the +Story-that-never-ends an' used up one bundle of talk; an' when the story +ended for that night, the Squaw-who-has-dreams was saying: "An' so, out +of the lake that was red as the sun came a great fish that was green, +with yellow wings, an' it walked also with feet, an' it came up to me an' +said: "But then she would tell no more that night; nor could the Raven, +who was crazy with cur'osity, prevail on her. "I must now sleep an' +dream what the green fish with the yellow wings said," was the reply of +the Squaw-who-has-dreams, an' she pretended to slumber. So the Raven, +because he was cur'ous, put off her death. + +"'All night she watched, but the Raven did not go to the secret place +where he had hidden the powder of the whirlwind. Nor the next day, when +the sun went down, did the Raven kill the Giant. But the +Squaw-who-has-dreams took up again the Story-that-never-ends an' told +what the green fish with the yellow wings said; an' she used up the +second bundle of talk. When she ceased for that time, the +Squaw-who-has-dreams was saying: "An' as night fell, _Moh-kwa_, the Bear, +called to me from his canyon, an' said for me to come an' he would show +me where the great treasure of fire-water was buried for you who are the +Raven. So I went into the canyon, an' _Moh-kwa_, the Bear, took me by +the hand an' led me to the treasure of fire-water which was greater an' +richer than was ever seen by any Sioux." + +"'Then the Squaw-who-has-dreams would tell no more that night, while the +Raven eat his fingers with cur'osity. But he made up a new plan not to +twist the Squaw-who-has-dreams until she showed him the treasure of +fire-water an' told him the end of the Story-that-never-ends. On her +part, however, the Squaw-who-has-dreams, as she went to sleep, wept an' +tore the beads from her hair an' said the Raven did not love her; for he +had not killed the Giant as he promised. She said she would tell no more +of the Story-that-never-ends until the Giant was dead; nor would she show +to a husband who did not love her the great treasure of fire-water which +_Moh-kwa_, the Bear, had found. At this, the Raven who was hot to have +the treasure of firewater an' whose ears rang with cur'osity to hear the +end of the Story-that-never-ends saw that he must kill the Giant. +Therefore, when the Squaw-who-has-dreams had ceased to sob and revile +him, an' was gone as he thought asleep, the Raven went to his secret +place where he kept the powder of the whirlwind an' took a little an' +wrapped it in a leaf an' hid the leaf in the braids of his long hair. +Then the Raven went to sleep. + +"'When the Raven was asleep the Squaw-who-has-dreams went also herself to +the secret place an' got also a little of the powder of the whirlwind. +An' the next morning she arose early an' gave the powder of the whirlwind +to the Raven on the roast buffalo, the _Pez-hee-kee_, which was his food. + +"'When the Raven had eaten, the Squaw-who-has-dreams went out of the +teepee among the people an' called all the Sioux to come an' see the +Raven die. So the Sioux came gladly, and the Raven was twisted an' +writhen with the power of the whirlwind wrenching at his heart; an' his +teeth were tight like a trap; an' no words, but only foam, came from his +mouth; an' at last the Spirit, the _Chee-bee_, was twisted out of the +Raven; an' the Squaw-who-has-dreams was revenged for the death of the +Gray Elk whom she loved an' who always called her _Kee-nee-moo-sha_, the +Sweetheart, because it made her laugh. + +"'When the Raven was dead, the Squaw-who-has-dreams went to the secret +place an' threw the powder of the whirlwind into the Big-Muddy; an' after +that she distributed her fourteen bundles of talk that were left among +all the Sioux so that everybody could tell how glad he felt because the +Raven was twisted and died. An' for a week there was nothing but +happiness an' big talk among the Sioux; an' _Moh-kwa_, the Bear, came +laughing out of his canyon with the wonder of listening to it; while the +Squaw-who-has-dreams now, when her revenge was done, went with +_When-dee-goo_, the Giant, to his teepee and became his squaw. So now +everything was ended save the Story-that-never-ends.' + +"When Sioux Sam gets this far," concluded the Old Cattleman, "he says, +'an' my mother's words at the end were: "An' boys who ask too many +questions will die, as did the Raven whose cur'osity was even greater +than his cruelty."'" + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +The Queerness of Dave Tutt. + +"Which these queernesses of Dave's," observed the Old Cattleman, "has +already been harrowin' an' harassin' up the camp for mighty likely +she's two months, when his myster'ous actions one evenin' in the Red +Light brings things to a climax, an' a over-strained public, feelin' +like it can b'ar no more, begins to talk. + +"It's plumb easy to remember this Red Light o'casion, for jest prior to +Dave alarmin' us by becomin' melodious, furtive--melody bein' wholly +onnacheral to Dave, that a-way--thar's a callow pin-feather party comes +caperin' in an' takin' Old Man Enright one side, asks can he yootilise +Wolfville as a strategic p'int in a elopement he's goin' to pull off. + +"'Which I'm out to elope a whole lot from Tucson,' explains this +pin-feather party to Enright, 'an' I aims to cinch the play. I'm a +mighty cautious sport, an' before ever I hooks up for actooal +freightin' over any trail, I rides her once or twice to locate wood and +water, an' pick out my camps. Said system may seem timorous, but it's +shore safer a heap. So I asks ag'in whether you-all folks has any +objections to me elopin' into Wolfville with my beloved, like I +suggests. I ain't out to spring no bridals on a onprotected outfit, +wherefore I precedes the play with these queries.' + +"'But whatever's the call for you to elope at all?' remonstrates +Enright. 'The simple way now would be to round up this lady's paternal +gent, an' get his consent.' + +"'Seein' the old gent,' says the pin-feather party, ''speshully when +you lays it smoothly off like that, shore does seem simplicity itse'f. +But if you was to prance out an' try it some, it would be found plenty +complex. See yere!' goes on the pin-feather party, beginnin' to roll +up his sleeve, 'you-all impresses me as more or less a jedge of +casyooalities. Whatever now do you think of this? 'An' the +pin-feather party exhibits a bullet wound in his left fore-arm, the +same bein' about half healed. + +"'Colt's six-shooter,' says Enright. + +"'That's straight,' says the pin-feather party, buttonin' up his +sleeve; 'you calls the turn. I wins out that abrasion pleadin' with +the old gent. Which I tackles him twice. The first time he opens on +me with his 44-gun before ever I ends the sentence. But he misses. +Nacherally, I abandons them marital intentions for what you-all might +call the "nonce" to sort o' look over my hand ag'in an' see be I right. +Do my best I can't on earth discern no reasons ag'in the nuptials. +Moreover, the lady--who takes after her old gent a heap--cuts in on the +play with a bluff that while she don't aim none to crowd my hand, she's +doo to begin shootin' me up herse'f if I don't show more passionate +anxiety about leadin' her to the altar. It's then, not seein' why the +old gent should go entertainin' notions ag'in me, an' deemin' mebby +that when he blazes away that time he's merely pettish and don't really +mean said bullet none, that I fronts up ag'in.' + +"'An' then,' asks Enright, 'whatever does this locoed parent do?' + +"'Which I jest shows you what,' says the pin-feather party. 'He gets +the range before ever I opens my mouth, an' plugs me. At that I begins +to half despair of winnin' his indorsements. I leaves it to you-all; +be I right?' + +"'Why,' says Enright, rubbin' his fore'erd some doobious, 'it would +look like the old gent is a leetle set ag'in you. Still, as the +responsible chief of this camp, I would like to hear why you reckons +Wolfville is a good place to elope to. I don't s'ppose it's on account +of them drunkards over in Tucson makin' free with our good repoote an' +lettin' on we're light an' immoral that a-way?' + +"'None whatever!' says the pin-feather party. 'It's on account of you +wolves bein' regyarded as peaceful, staid, an' law abidin' that I first +considers you. Then ag'in, thar ain't a multitood of places clost +about Tucson to elope to nohow; an' I can't elope far on account of my +roll.' + +"The replies of this pin-feather party soothes Enright an' engages him +on that side, so he ups an' tells the 'swain,' as Colonel Sterett calls +him later in the Coyote, to grab off his inamorata an' come a-runnin'. + +"'Which, givin' my consent,' says Enright when explainin' about it +later, 'is needed to protect this tempest-tossed lover in the +possession of his skelp. The old gent an' that maiden fa'r has got him +between 'em, an' onless we opens up Wolfville as a refooge, it looks +like they'll cross-lift him into the promised land.' + +"But to go back to Dave." + +Here my old friend paused and called for refreshments. I seized the +advantage of his silence over a glass of peach and honey, to suggest an +eagerness for the finale of the Tucson love match. + +"No," responded my frosty friend, setting down his glass, "we'll pursoo +the queernesses of Dave. That Tucson elopement 'is another story a +heap,' as some wise maverick says some'ers, an' I'll onload it on you +on some other day. + +"When Dave evolves the cadencies in the Red Light that evenin', thar's +Enright, Moore an' me along with Dan Boggs, bein' entertained by +hearin' Cherokee Hall tell us about a brace game he gets ag'inst in Las +Vegas one time. + +"'This deadfall--this brace I'm mentionin',' says Cherokee, 'is over on +the Plaza. Of course, I calls this crooked game a "brace" in speakin' +tharof to you-all sports who ain't really gamblers none. That's to be +p'lite. But between us, among a'credited kyard sharps, a brace game is +allers allooded to as "the old thing." If you refers to a game of +chance as "the old thing," they knows at once that every chance is +'liminated an' said deevice rigged for murder.' + +"'That's splendid, Cherokee,' says Faro Nell, from her lookout's roost +by his shoulder; 'give 'em a lecture on the perils of gamblin' with +strangers.' + +"Thar's no game goin' at this epock an' Cherokee signifies his +willin'ness to become instructive. + +"'Not that I'm no beacon, neither,' says Cherokee, 'on the rocky +wreck-sown shores of sport; an' not that I ever resorts to onderhand +an' doobious deals myse'f; still, I'm cap'ble of p'intin' out the +dangers. Scientists of my sort, no matter how troo an' faithful to the +p'int of honour, is bound to savey all kyard dooplicities in their +uttermost depths, or get left dead on the field of finance. Every gent +should be honest. But more than honest--speshully if he's out to buck +faro-bank or set in on casyooal games of short-kyards--every gent +should be wise. In the amoosements I mentions to be merely honest +can't be considered a complete equipment. Wherefore, while I never +makes a crooked play an' don't pack the par'fernalia so to do, I'm +plenty astoote as to how said tricks is turned. + +"'Which sports has speshulties same as other folks. Thar's Texas +Thompson, his speshulty is ridin' a hoss; while Peets's speshulty is +shootin' a derringer, Colonel Sterett's is pol'tics, Enright's is +jestice, Dave's is bein' married, Jack Moore's is upholdin' law an' +order, Boggs's is bein' sooperstitious, Missis Rucker's is composin' +bakin' powder biscuits, an' Huggins's is strong drink.' + +"'Whatever is my speshulty, Cherokee?' asks Faro Nell, who's as +immersed as the rest in these settin's forth; 'what do you-all reckon +now is my speshulty?' + +"'Bein' the loveliest of your sex,' says Cherokee, a heap emphatic, an' +on that p'int we-all strings our game with his. + +"'That puts the ambrosia on me,' says Faro Nell, blushin' with +pleasure, an' she calls to Black Jack. + +"'As I observes,' goes on Cherokee, 'every sport has his speshulty. +Thar's Casino Joe; his is that he can "tell the last four." +Nacherally, bein' thus gifted, a game of casino is like so much money +in the bank for Joe. Still, his gifts ain't crooked, they're genius; +Joe's simply born able to "tell the last four." + +"'Which, you gents is familiar by repoote at least with the several +plans for redoocin' draw-poker to the prosaic level of shore-things. +Thar's the "bug" an' the "foot-move" an' the "sleeve holdout" an' +dozens of kindred schemes for playin' a cold hand. An' thar's +optimists, when the game is easy, who depends wholly on a handkerchief +in their laps to cover their nefariousness. If I'm driven to counsel a +gent concernin' poker it would be to never play with strangers; an' +partic'lar to never spec'late with a gent who sneezes a lot, or turns +his head an' talks of draughts of cold air invading' the place, or says +his foot's asleep an' gets up to stampede about the room after a hand +is dealt an' prior to the same bein' played. It's four to one this +afflicted sharp is workin' a holdout. Then that's the "punch" to mark +a deck, an' the "lookin' glass" to catch the kyards as they're dealt. +Then thar's sech manoovers as stockin' a deck, an' shiftin' a cut, an' +dealin' double. Thar's gents who does their work from the bottom of a +deck---puts up a hand on the bottom, an' confers it on a pard or on +themse'fs as dovetails with their moods. He's a one-arm party--shy his +right arm, he is--who deals a hand from the bottom the best I ever +beholds. + +"'No, I don't regyard crooked folks as dangerous at poker, only you've +got to watch 'em. So long as your eye is on 'em a heap attentive +they're powerless to perform their partic'lar miracle, an' as a result, +since that's the one end an' aim of their efforts, they becomes mighty +inocuous. As a roole, crooked people ain't good players on the squar', +an' as long as you makes 'em play squar', they're yours. + +"'But speakin' of this devious person on the Las Vegas Plaza that time: +The outfit is onknown to me--I'm only a pilgrim an' a stranger an' +don't intend to tarry none--when I sets up to the lay-out. I ain't got +a bet down, however, before I sees the gent who's dealin', sign-up the +seven to the case-keep, an' instanter I feels like I'd known that bevy +of bandits since long before the war. Also, I realises their methods +after I takes a good hard look. That dealer's got what post +gradyooates in faro-bank robbery calls a "end squeeze" box; the deck is +trimmed--"wedges" is the name--to put the odds ag'in the evens, an' +sanded so as to let two kyards come at a clatter whenever said +pheenomenon is demanded by the exigencies of their crimes; an' thar you +be. No, it's a fifty-two-kyard deck all right, an' the dealer depends +on "puttin' back" to keep all straight. An' I'm driven to concede +that the put-back work of said party is like a romance; puttin' back's +his speshulty. His left hand would sort o' settle as light as a dead +leaf over the kyard he's after that a-way--not a tenth part of a +second--an' that pasteboard would come along, palmed, an' as his hand +floats over the box as he's goin' to make the next turn the kyard would +reassoome its cunnin' place inside. An' all as smoothly serene as +pray'r meetin's.' + +"'An', nacherally, you denounces this felon,' says Colonel Sterett, +who's come in an' who's integrity is of the active sort. + +"'Nacherally, I don't say a word,' retorts Cherokee. 'I ain't for +years inhabited these roode an' sand-blown regions, remote as they be +from best ideals an' high examples of the East, not to long before have +learned the excellence of that maxim about lettin' every man kill his +own snakes. I says nothin'; I merely looks about to locate the victim +of them machinations with a view of goin' ag'inst his play.' + +"It's when Cherokee arrives at this place in his recitals that Dave +evolves his interruptions. He's camped by himse'f in a reemote corner +of the room, an' he ain't been noticin' nobody an' nobody's been +noticin' him. All at once, in tones which is low but a heap +discordant, Dave hums to himse'f something that sounds like: + + 'Bye O babe, lie still in slumber, + Holy angels gyard thy bed.' + +"At this, Cherokee in a horrified way stops, an' we-all looks at each +other. Enright makes a dispar'in' gesture towards Dave an' says: + +"'Gents, first callin' your attention to the fact that Dave ain't +over-drinkt an' that no nosepaint theery is possible in accountin' for +his acts, I asks you for your opinions. As you knows, this thing's +been goin' for'ard for some time, an' I desires to hear if from any +standp'int of public interest do you-all figger that steps should be +took?' + +"In order to fully onderstand Enright in all he means, I oughter lay +bar' that Dave's been conductin' himse'f in a manner not to be +explained for mighty likely she's eight weeks. Yeretofore, thar's no +more sociable sport an' none whose system is easier to follow in all +Wolfville than Dave. While holdin' himse'f at what you might call +'par' on all o'casions, Dave is still plenty minglesome an' fraternal +with the balance of the herd, an' would no more think of donnin' airs +or puttin' on dog than he'd think of blastin' away at one of us with +his gun. Yet eight weeks prior thar shorely dawns a change. + +"Which the first symptom--the advance gyard as it were of Dave's +gettin' queer--is when Dave's standin' in front of the post-office. +Thar's a faraway look to Dave at the time, like he's tryin' to settle +whether he's behind or ahead on some deal. While thus wropped in this +fit of abstraction Dan Boggs comes hybernatin' along an' asks Dave to +p'int into the Red Light for a smell of Valley Tan. Dave sort o' +rouses up at this an' fastens on Dan with his eyes, half truculent an' +half amazed, same as if he's shocked at Dan's familiarity. Then he +shakes his head decisive. + +"'Don't try to braid this mule's tail none!' says Dave, an' at that he +strides off with his muzzle in the air. Boggs is abashed. + +"'Which these insultin' bluffs of Dave's,' says Boggs, as we canvasses +the play a bit later, 'would cut me to the quick, but I knows it ain't +on the level, Dave ain't himse'f when he declines said nosepaint--his +intellects ain't in camp.' + +"This ontoward an' onmerited rebuke to Boggs is followed, by further +breaks as hard to savey. Dave ain't no two days alike. One time he's +that haughty he actooally passes Enright himse'f in the street an' no +more heed or recognition than if Wolfville's chief is the last Mexican +to come no'th of the line. Then later Dave is effoosive an' goes about +riotin' in the s'ciety of every gent whereof he cuts the trail. One +day he won't drink; an' the next he's tippin' the canteen from sun-up +till he's claimed by sleep. Which he gets us mighty near distracted; +no one can keep a tab on him. What with them silences an' +volyoobilities, sobrieties an' days of drink, an' all in bewilderin' +alternations, he's shore got us goin' four ways at once. + +"'In spite of the fact,' continyooes Dan Boggs when we're turnin' +Dave's conduct over in our minds an' rummagin' about for reasons; 'in +spite of the fact, I says, that I'm plenty posted in advance that I'm +up ag'inst a gen'ral shout of derision on account of me bein' +sooperstitious, I'm yere to offer two to one Dave's hoodooed. +Moreover, I can name the hoodoo.' + +"'Whatever is it then?' asks Texas Thompson; 'cut her freely loose an' +be shore of our solemn consid'ration.' + +"'It's opals,' says Boggs. 'Them gems as every well-instructed gent is +aware is the very spent of bad luck. Dave's wearin' one in his shirt +right now. It's that opal pin wherewith he decks himse'f recent while +he's relaxin' with nosepaint in Tucson. I'm with him at the time an' I +says to him: "Dave, I wouldn't mount that opal none. Which all opals +is implacable hoodoos, an' it'll likely conjure up your rooin." But I +might as well have addressed that counsel to a buffalo bull for all the +respectful heed I gains. Dave gives me a grin, shets one eye plenty +cunnin', an' retorts: "Dan, you're envious; you wants that ornament +yourse'f an' you're out to try an make me diskyard it in your favour. +Sech schemes, Dan, can't make the landin'. Opals that a-way is as +harmless as bull snakes. Also, I knows what becomes my looks; an' +while I ain't vain, still, bein' married as you're aware, it's wisdom +in me to seize every openin' for enhancin' my pulcritoode. The better +I looks, the longer Tucson Jennie loves me; an' I'm out to reetain that +lady's heart at any cost." No, I don't onbend in no response,' goes on +Boggs. 'Them accoosations of Dave about me honin' for said bauble is +oncalled for. I'd no more pack a opal than I'd cut for deal an' embark +on a game of seven-up with a ghost. As I states, the luck of opals is +black.' + +"'I was wont to think so,' says Enright, 'but thar once chances a play, +the same comin' off onder my personal notice, that shakes my +convictions on that p'int. Thar's a broke-down sport--this yere's long +ago while I'm briefly sojournin' in Socorro--who's got a opal, an' he +one day puts it in hock with a kyard sharp for a small stake. The +kyard gent says he ain't alarmed none by these charges made of opals +bein' bad luck. It's a ring, an' he sticks it on his little finger. +Two days later he goes broke ag'in four jacks. + +"'This terrifies him; he begins to believe in the evil innocences of +opals. He presents the jewelry to a bar-keep, who puts it up, since +his game limits itse'f to sellin' licker an', him bein' plenty careful +not to drink none himse'f, his contracted destinies don't offer no +field for opals an' their malign effects. In less time than a week, +however, his wife leaves him; an' also that drink-shop wherein he +officiates is blown down by a high wind. + +"'That bar-keep emerges from the rooms of his domestic hopes an' the +desolation of that gin mill, an' endows a lady of his acquaintance with +this opal ornament. It ain't twenty-four hours when she cuts loose an' +weds a Mexican. + +"'Which by this time, excitement is runnin' high, an' you-all couldn't +have found that citizen in Socorro with a search warrant who declines +to believe in opals bein' bad luck. On the hocks of these catastrophes +it's the common notion that nobody better own that opal; an' said +malev'lent stone in the dooal capac'ty of a cur'osity an' a warnin' is +put in the seegyar case at the Early Rose s'loon. The first day it's +thar, a jeweller sharp come in for his daily drinks--he runs the +jewelry store of that meetropolis an' knows about diamonds an' sim'lar +jimcracks same as Peets does about drugs--an' he considers this +talisman, scrootinisin' it a heap clost. "Do you-all believe in the +bad luck of opals?" asks a pard who's with him. "This thing ain't no +opal," says the jeweller sharp, lookin' up; "it's glass." + +"'An' so it is: that baleful gewgaw has been sailin' onder a alias; it +ain't no opal more'n a Colt's cartridge is a poker chip. An', of +course, it's plain the divers an' several disasters, from the loss of +that kyard gent's bank-roll down to the Mexican nuptials of the +ill-advised lady to whom I alloodes, can't be laid to its charge. The +whole racket shocks an' shakes me to that degree,' concloods Enright, +'that to-day I ain't got no settled views on opals', none whatever.' + +"'Jest the same, I thinks it's opals that's the trouble with Dave,' +declar's Boggs, plenty stubborn an' while the rest of us don't yoonite +with him, we receives his view serious an' respectful so's not to jolt +Boggs's feelin's. + +"Goin' back, however, to when Dave sets up the warble of 'Bye O baby!' +that a-way, we-all, followin' Enright's s'licitation for our thoughts, +abides a heap still an' makes no response. Enright asks ag'in: 'What +do you-all think?' + +"At last Boggs, who as I sets forth frequent is a nervous gent, an' one +on whom silence soon begins to prey, ag'in speaks up. Bein' doubtful +an' mindful of Enright's argyment ag'in his opal bluff, however, Boggs +don't advance his concloosions this time at all emphatic. In a tone +like he's out ridin' for information himse'f, Boggs says: + +"'Mebby, if it ain't opals, it's a case of straight loco.' + +"'While I wouldn't want to readily think Dave locoed,' says Enright, +'seein' he's oncommon firm on his mental feet, still he's shore got +something on his mind. An' bein' it is something, it's possible as you +says that Dave's intellects is onhossed.' + +"'Whatever for a play would it be,' says Cherokee, 'to go an' ask Dave +himse'f right now?' + +"'I'd be some slow about propoundin' sech surmises to Dave,' says +Boggs. 'He might get hostile; you can put a wager on it, he'd turn out +disagree'ble to a degree, if he did. No, you-all has got to handle a +loonatic with gloves. I knows a gent who entangles himse'f with a +loonatic, askin' questions, an' he gets all shot up.' + +"'I reckons, however,' says Cherokee, 'that I'll assoome the resk. +Dave an' me's friends; an' I allows if I goes after him in ways both +soft an' careless, so as not to call forth no suspicions, he'll take it +good-humoured even if he is locoed.' + +"We-all sets breathless while Cherokee sa'nters down to where Dave's +still wropped in them melodies. + +"'Whatever be you hummin' toones for, Dave?' asks Cherokee all +accidental like. + +"'Which I'm rehearsin',' says Dave, an' he shows he's made impatient. +'Don't come infringin' about me with no questions,' goes on Dave. 'I'm +like the ancient Romans, I've got troubles of my own; an' no sport who +calls himse'f my friend will go aggravatin' me with ontimely +inquis'tiveness.' Then Dave gets up an' pulls his freight an' leaves +us more onsettled than at first. + +"For a full hour, we does nothin' but canvass this yere question of +Dave's aberrations. At last a idee seizes us. Thar's times when +Dave's been seen caucusin' with Missis Rucker an' Doc Peets. Most +likely one of 'em would be able to shed a ray on Dave. By a excellent +coincidence, an' as if to he'p us out, Peets comes in as Texas Thompson +su'gests that mebby the Doc's qualified to onravel the myst'ry. + +"'Tell you-all folks what's the matter with Dave?' says Peets. 'Pards, +it's simply not in the deck. Meanin' no disrespects--for you gents +knows me too well to dream of me harborin' anything but feelin's of the +highest regyards for one an' all--I'll have to leave you camped in +original darkness. It would be breakin' professional confidences. +Shore, I saveys Dave's troubles an' the causes of these vagaries of +his; jest the same the traditions of the medical game forces me to hold +'em sacred an' secret.' + +"'Tell us at least, Doc,' says Enright, 'whether Dave's likely to grow +voylent. If he is, it's only proper that we arranges to tie him down.' + +"'Dave may be boisterous later,' says Peets, an' his reply comes slow +an' thoughtful, like he's considerin'; 'he may make a joyful uproar, +but he won't wax dangerous.' This yere's as far as Peets'll go; he +declines to talk longer, on professional grounds. + +"'Which suspense, this a-way,' says Boggs, after Peets is gone, 'an' us +no wiser than when he shows in the door, makes me desp'rate. I'll +offer the motion: Let's prance over in a bunch, an' demand a +explanation of Missis Rucker. Dave's been talkin' to her as much as +ever he has to Peets, an' thar's no professional hobbles on the lady; +she's footloose, an' free to speak.' + +"'We waits on you, Marm,' says Enright, when ten minutes later Boggs, +Cherokee, Texas Thompson an' he is in the kitchen of the O. K. +Restauraw where Missis Rucker is slicin' salt hoss an' layin' the +fragrant foundations of supper; 'we waits on you-all to ask your +advice. Dave Tutt's been carryin' on in a manner an' form at once +doobious an' threatenin'. It ain't too much to say that we-all fears +the worst. We comes now to invite you to tell us all you knows of Dave +an' whatever it is that so onsettles him. Our idee is that you +onderstands a heap about it.' + +"'See yere, Sam Enright,' retorts Missis Rucker, pausin' over the salt +hoss, 'you ain't doin' yourse'f proud. You better round up this herd +of inebriates an' get 'em back to the Red Light. Thar's nothin' the +matter with Dave; leastwise if it was the matter with you, you'd be +some improved. Dave Tutt's a credit to this camp; never more so than +now; the same bein' a mighty sight more'n I could say of any of you-all +an' stick to the trooth.' + +"'Then you does know, Missis Rucker,' says Enright, 'the secret that's +gnawin' at Dave.' + +"'Know it,' replies Misses Rucker, 'of course, I knows it. But I don't +propose to discuss it none with you tarrapins. I ain't got no patience +with sech dolts! Now that you-all is yere, however, I'll give you +notice that to-morry you can begin to do your own cookin' till you +hears further word from me. I'm goin' to be otherwise an' more +congenially engaged. Most likely I'll be back in my kitchen ag'in in a +day or two; but I makes no promises. An' ontil sech time as I shows +up, you-all can go scuffle for yourse'fs. I've got more important +dooties jest now on my hands than cookin' chuck for sots.' + +"As Missis Rucker speaks up mighty vigorous, an' as none of us has the +nerve to ask her further an' take the resk of turnin' loose her temper, +we lines out ag'in for the Red Light no cl'arer than what we was. + +"'I could ask her more questions,' says Enright, 'but, gents, I didn't +deem it wise. Missis Rucker is a most admirable character; but I'm +sooperstitious about crowdin' her too clost. Like Boggs says about +opals, thar's plenty of bad luck lurkin' about Missis Rucker's environs +if you only goes about its deevelopment the right way.' + +"'The sityooation is too many for me,' says Boggs, goin' up to the bar +for a drink, 'I gives it up. I ain't got a notion left, onless it is +that Dave's runnin' for office; that is, I might entertain sech a +thought only thar ain't no office.' + +"'The next day Missis Rucker abandons her post; an' we tharupon finds +that feedin' ourse'fs keeps us busy an' we don't have much time to +discuss Dave. Also, Dave disappears;--in fact, both Dave an' Missis +Rucker fades from view. + +"It's about fo'rth drink time the evenin' of the third day, an' most of +us is in the Red Light. Thar's a gloom overhangs us like a fog. Mebby +it's the oncertainties which envelops Dave, mebby it's because Missis +Rucker's done deserted an' left us to rustle for ourse'fs or starve. +Most of us is full of present'ments that something's due to happen. + +"All at once, an' onexpected, Dave walks in. A sigh of relief goes up, +for the glance we gives him shows he's all right--sane as +Enright--clothed an' in his right mind as set fo'th in holy writ. +Also, his countenance is a wrinkle of glee. + +"'Gents,' says Dave, an' his air is that patronisin' it would have been +exasperatin' only we're so relieved, 'gents, I'm come to seek +congratyoolations an' set 'em up. Peets an' that motherly angel, +Missis Rucker, allows I'll be of more use yere than in my own house, +whereat I nacherally floats over. Coupled with a su'gestion that we +drinks, I wants to say that he's a boy, an' that I brands him "Enright +Peets Tutt."'" + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +With the Apache's Compliments. + +"Ondoubted," observed the Old Cattleman, during one of our long +excursive talks, "ondoubted, the ways an' the motives of Injuns is past +the white man's findin' out. He's shore a myst'ry, the Injun is! an' +where the paleface forever fails of his s'lootion is that the latter +ropes at this problem in copper-colour from the standp'int of the +Caucasian. Can a dog onderstand a wolf? Which I should remark not! + +"It's a heap likely that with Injuns, the white man in his turn is jest +as difficult to solve. An' without the Injun findin' onusual fault +with 'em, thar's a triangle of things whereof the savage accooses the +paleface. The Western Injuns at least--for I ain't posted none on +Eastern savages, the same bein' happily killed off prior to my +time--the Western Injuns lays the bee, the wild turkey, an' that weed +folks calls the 'plantain,' at the white man's door. They-all descends +upon the Injun hand in hand. No, the Injun don't call the last-named +veg'table a 'plantain;' he alloodes to it as 'the White Man's Foot.' + +"Thar's traits dominant among Injuns which it wouldn't lower the +standin' of a white man if he ups an' imitates a whole lot. I once +encounters a savage--one of these blanket Injuns with feathers in his +ha'r--an' bein' idle an' careless of what I'm about, I staggers into +casyooal talk with him. This buck's been East for the first time in +his darkened c'reer an' visited the Great Father in Washin'ton. I asks +him what he regyards as the deepest game he in his travels goes +ag'inst. At first he allows that pie, that a-way, makes the most +profound impression. But I bars pie, an' tells him to su'gest the +biggest thing he strikes, not on no bill of fare. Tharupon, +abandonin' menoos an' wonders of the table, he roominates a moment an' +declar's that the steamboat--now that pie is exclooded--ought to get +the nomination. + +"'The choo-choo boat,' observes this intelligent savage, 'is the +paleface's big medicine.' + +"'You'll have a list of marvels,' I says, 'to avalanche upon the people +when you cuts the trail of your ancestral tribe ag'in?' + +"'No,' retorts the savage, shakin' his head ontil the skelp-lock whips +his y'ears, an' all mighty decisive; 'no; won't tell Injun nothin'.' + +"'Why not?' I demands. + +"'If I tell,' he says, 'they no believe. They think it all heap lie.' + +"Son, consider what a example to travellers is set by that ontootered +savage? That's what makes me say thar be traits possessed of Injuns, +personal, which a paleface might improve himse'f by copyin'. + +"Bein' white myse'f, I'm born with notions ag'in Injuns. I learns of +their deestruction with relief, an' never sees one pirootin' about, +full of life an' vivacity, but the spectacle fills me with vain +regrets. All the same thar's a load o' lies told East concernin' the +Injun. I was wont from time to time to discuss these red folks with +Gen'ral Stanton, who for years is stationed about in Arizona, +an'--merely for the love he b'ars to fightin'--performs as chief of +scouts for Gen'ral Crook. + +"'Our divers wars with the Apaches,' says Gen'ral Stanton, 'comes more +as the frootes of a misdeal by a locoed marshal than anything else +besides. When Crook first shows up in Arizona--this is in the long +ago--an' starts to inculcate peace among the Apaches, he gets old +Jeffords to bring Cochise to him to have a pow-wow. Jeffords rounds up +Cochise an' herds him with soft words an' big promises into the +presence of Crook. The Grey Fox--which was the Injun name for +Crook--makes Cochise a talk. Likewise he p'ints out to the chief the +landmarks an' mountain peaks that indicates the Mexican line. An' the +Grey Fox explains to Cochise that what cattle is killed an' what skelps +is took to the south'ard of the line ain't goin' to bother him a bit. +But no'th'ard it's different; thar in that sacred region cattle killin' +an' skelp collectin' don't go. The Grey Fox shoves the information on +Cochise that every trick turned on the American side of the line has +done got to partake of the characteristics of a love affair, or the +Grey Fox with his young men in bloo--his walk-a-heaps an' his +hoss-warriors--noomerous as the grass, they be--will come down on +Cochise an' his Apaches like a coyote on a sage hen or a pan of milk +from a top shelf an' make 'em powerful hard to find. + +"'Cochise smokes an' smokes, an' after considerin' the bluff of the +Grey Fox plenty profound, allows he won't call it. Thar shall be peace +between the Apache an' the paleface to the no'th'ard of that line. +Then the Grey Fox an' Cochise shakes hands an' says "How!" an' Cochise, +with a bolt or two of red calico wherewith to embellish his squaws, +goes squanderin' back to his people, permeated to the toes with +friendly intentions. + +"'Sech is Cochise's reverence for his word, coupled with his fear of +the Grey Fox, that years float by an' every deefile an' canyon of the +Southwest is as safe as the aisles of a church to the moccasins of the +paleface. Thus it continyoos ontil thar comes a evenin' when a jimcrow +marshal, with more six-shooters than hoss sense, allows he'll apprehend +Cochise's brother a whole lot for some offense that ain't most likely +deuce high in the category of troo crime. This ediot offishul reaches +for the relative of Cochise; an' as the latter--bein' a savage an' +tharfore plumb afraid of captivity--leaps back'ard like he's met up +with a rattlesnake, the marshal puts his gun on him an' plugs him so +good that he cashes in right thar. The marshal says later in +explanation of his game that Cochise's brother turns hostile an' drops +his hand on his knife. Most likely he does; a gent's hands--even a +Apache's--has done got to be some'ers. + +"'But the killin' overturns the peaceful programmes built up between +the Grey Fox an' Cochise. When the old chief hears of his brother +bein' downed, he paints himse'f black an' red an' sends a bundle of +arrows tied with a rattlesnake skin to the Grey Fox with a message to +count his people an' look out for himse'f. The Grey Fox, who realises +that the day of peace has ended an' the sun gone down to rise on a +mornin' of trouble, fills the rattlesnake skin with cartridges an' +sends 'em back with a word to Cochise to turn himse'f loose. From that +moment the war-jig which is to last for years is on. After Cochise +comes Geronimo, an' after Geronimo comes Nana; an' one an' all, they +adds a heap of spice to life in Arizona. It's no exaggeration to put +the number of palefaces who lose their ha'r as the direct result of +that fool marshal layin' for Cochise's brother an' that Injun's +consequent cuttin' off, at a round ten thousand. Shore! thar's scores +an' scores who's been stood up an' killed in the hills whereof we never +gets a whisper. I, myse'f, in goin' through the teepees of a Apache +outfit, after we done wipes 'em off the footstool, sees the long ha'r +of seven white women who couldn't have been no time dead. + +"'Who be they? Folks onknown who's got shot into while romancin' along +among the hills with schemes no doubt of settlement in Californy. + +"'With what we saveys of the crooelties of the Apaches, thar's likewise +a sperit of what book-sharps calls chivalry goes with 'em an' albeit on +one ha'r-hung o'casion I profits mightily tharby, I'm onable to give it +a reason. You wouldn't track up on no sim'lar weaknesses among the +palefaces an' you-all can put down a stack on that. + +"'It's when I'm paymaster,' says the Gen'ral, reachin' for the canteen, +'an' I starts fo'th from Fort Apache on a expedition to pay off the +nearby troops. I've got six waggons an' a escort of twenty men. For +myse'f, at the r'ar of the procession, I journeys proudly in a +amb'lance. Our first camp is goin' to be on top of the mesa out a +handful of miles from the Fort. + +"'The word goes along the line to observe a heap of caution an' not +straggle or go rummagin' about permiscus, for the mountains is alive +with hostiles. It's five for one that a frownin' cloud of 'em is +hangin' on our flanks from the moment we breaks into the foothills. +No, they'd be afoot; the Apaches ain't hoss-back Injuns an' only fond +of steeds as food. He never rides on one, a Apache don't, but he'll +camp an' build a fire an' eat a corral full of ponies if you'll furnish +'em, an' lick his lips in thankfulness tharfore. But bein' afoot won't +hinder 'em from keepin' up with my caravan, for in the mountains the +snow is to the waggon beds an' the best we can do, is wriggle along the +trail like a hurt snake at a gait which wouldn't tire a papoose. + +"'We've been pushin' on our windin' uphill way for mighty likely half a +day, an' I'm beginnin'--so dooms slows is our progress--to despair of +gettin' out on top the mesa before dark, when to put a coat of paint on +the gen'ral trouble the lead waggon breaks down. I turns out in the +snow with the rest, an' we-all puts in a heated an' highly profane +half-hour restorin' the waggon to health. At last we're onder headway +ag'in, an' I wades back through the snow to my amb'lance. + +"'As I arrives at the r'ar of my offishul waggon, it occurs to me that +I'll fill a pipe an' smoke some by virchoo of my nerves, the same bein' +torn and frayed with the many exasperations of the day. I gives my +driver the word to wait a bit, an' searchin' forth my tobacco outfit +loads an' lights my pipe. I'm planted waist deep in the mountain +snows, but havin' on hossman boots the snow ain't no hardship. + +"'While I'm fussin' with my pipe, the six waggons an' my twenty men +curves 'round a bend in the trail an' is hid by a corner of the canyon. +I reflects at the time--though I ain't really expectin' no perils--that +I'd better catch up with my escort, if it's only to set the troops a +example. As I exhales my first puff of smoke and is on the verge of +tellin' my driver to pull out--this yere mule-skinner is settin' so +that matters to the r'ar is cut off from his gaze by the canvas cover +of my waggon--a slight noise attracts me, an' castin' my eye along the +trail we've been climbin', I notes with feelin's of disgust a full +dozen Apaches comin'. An' it ain't no hyperbole to say they're shore +comin' all spraddled out. + +"'In the lead for all the deep snow, an' racin' up on me like the wind, +is a big befeathered buck, painted to the eyes; an' in his right fist, +raised to hurl it, is a 12-foot lance. As I surveys this pageant, I +realises how he'pless, utter, I be, an' with what ca'mness I may, +adjusts my mind to the fact that I've come to the end of my trails. +He'pless? Shore! I'm stuck as firm in the snow as one of the pines +about me; my guns is in the waggon outen immediate reach; thar I stands +as certain a prey to that Apache with the lance as he's likely to go up +ag'inst doorin' the whole campaign. Why, I'm a pick-up! I remembers +my wife an' babies, an' sort o' says "Goodbye!" to 'em, for I'm as +certain of my finish as I be of the hills, or the snows beneath my +feet. However, since it's all I can do, I continyoos to smoke an' +watch my execootioners come on. + +"'The big lance Injun is the dominatin' sperit of the bunch. As he +draws up to me--he's fifty foot in advance of the others--he makes his +lance shiver from p'int to butt. It fairly sings a death song! I can +feel it go through an' through me a score of times. But I stands thar +facin' him; for, of course, I wants it to go through from the front. I +don't allow to be picked up later with anything so onfashionable as a +lance wound in my back. That would be mighty onprofessional! + +"'You onderstands that what now requires minutes in the recital don't +cover seconds as a play. The lance Injun runs up to within a rod of me +an' halts. His arm goes back for a mighty cast of the lance; the +weepon is vibrant with the very sperit of hate an' malice. His eyes, +through a fringe of ha'r that has fallen over 'em, glows out like a +cat's eyes in the dark. + +"We stands thar--I still puffin my pipe, he with his lance raised--an' +we looks on each other--I an' that paint-daubed buck! I can't say +whatever is his notion of me, but on my side I never beholds a savage +who appeals to me as a more evil an' forbiddin' picture! + +"'As I looks him over a change takes place. The fire in his eyes dies +out, his face relaxes its f'rocity, an' after standin' for a moment an' +as the balance of the band arrives, he turns the lance over his arm an' +with the butt presented, surrenders it into my hand. You can gamble I +don't lose no time in arguin' the question, but accepts the lance with +all that it implies. Bringin' the weepon to a 'Right Shoulder' an' +with my mind relieved, I gives the word to my mule-skinner--who's +onconscious of the transactions in life an' death goin' on behind his +back--an' with that, we-all takes up our march an' soon comes up on the +escort where it's ag'in fixed firm in the snow about a furlong to the +fore. My savages follows along with me, an' each of 'em as grave as +squinch owls an' tame as tabby cats. + +"'Joke? no; them Apaches was as hostile as Gila monsters! But +beholdin' me, as they regyards it--for they don't in their ontaught +simplicity make allowance for me bein' implanted in the snow, gunless +an' he'pless--so brave, awaitin' deestruction without a quiver, their +admiration mounts to sech heights it drowns within 'em every thought of +cancellin' me with that lance, an' tharupon they pays me their savage +compliments in manner an' form deescribed. They don't regyard +themse'fs as surrenderin' neither; they esteems passin' me the lance as +inauguratin' a armistice an' looks on themse'fs as guests of honor an' +onder my safegyard, free to say "How!" an' vamos back to the warpath +ag'in whenever the sperit of blood begins to stir within their breasts. +I knows enough of their ways to be posted as to what they expects; an' +bein', I hopes, a gent of integrity, I accedes to 'em that exact status +which they believes they enjoys. + +"'They travels with me that day, eats with me that evenin' when we +makes our camp, has a drink with me all 'round, sings savage hymns to +me throughout the night, loads up with chuck in the mornin', offers me +no end of flattery as a dead game gent whom they respects, says +_adios_; an' then they scatters like a flock of quail. Also, havin' +resoomed business on old-time lines, they takes divers shots at us with +their Winchesters doorin' the next two days, an' kills a hoss an' +creases my sergeant. Why don't I corral an' hold 'em when they're in +my clutch? It would have been breakin' the trooce as Injuns an' I +onderstands sech things; moreover, they let me go free without +conditions when I was loser by every roole of the game.'" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +The Mills of Savage Gods. + +"Thar might, of course, be romances in the West," observed the Old +Cattleman, reflectively, in response to my question, "but the folks +ain't got no time. Romance that a-way demands leesure, an' a party has +to be more or less idlin' about to get what you-all might style +romantic action. Take that warjig whereof I recently relates an' +wherein this yere Wild Bill Hickox wipes out the McCandlas gang--six to +his Colt's, four to his bowie, an' one to his Hawkins rifle; eleven in +all--I asks him myse'f later when he's able to talk, don't he regyard +the eepisode as some romantic. An' Bill says, 'No, I don't notice no +romance tharin; what impresses me most is that she's shore a zealous +fight--also, mighty busy.' + +"Injuns would be romantic, only they're so plumb ignorant they never +once saveys. Thar's no Injun word for 'romantic'; them benighted +savages never tumblin' to sech a thing as romance bein' possible. An' +yet said aborigines engages in plays which a eddicated Eastern taste +with leesure on its hands an' gropin' about for entertainment would +pass on as romantic. + +"When I'm pesterin' among the Osages on that one o'casion that I'm +tryin' to make a round-up of my health, the old buck Strike Axe relates +to me a tale which I allers looks on as possessin' elements. Shore; +an' it's as simple an' straight as the sights of a gun. It's about a +squaw an' three bucks, an' thar's enough blood in it to paint a waggon. +Which I reckons now I'll relate it plain an' easy an' free of them +frills wherewith a professional racontoor is so prone to overload his +narratives. + +"The Black Cloud is a Osage medicine man an' has high repoote about +Greyhoss where he's pitched his teepee an' abides. He's got a squaw, +Sunbright, an' he's plenty jealous of this yere little Sunbright. The +Black Cloud has three squaws, an' Sunbright is the youngest. The +others is Sunbright's sisters, for a Osage weds all the sisters of a +fam'ly at once, the oldest sister goin' to the front at the nuptials to +deal the weddin' game for the entire outfit. + +"Now this Sunbright ain't over-enamoured of Black Cloud; he's only a +half-blood Injun for one thing, his father bein' a buffalo-man (negro) +who's j'ined the Osages, an' Sunbright don't take kindly to his nose +which is some flatter than the best rools of Osage beauty demands; an' +likewise thar's kinks in his ha'r. Still, Sunbright sort o' keeps her +aversions to herse'f, an' if it ain't for what follows she most likely +would have travelled to her death-blankets an' been given a seat on a +hill with a house of rocks built 'round her--the same bein' the usual +burial play of a Osage--without Black Cloud ever saveyin' that so far +from interestin' Sunbright, he only makes her tired. + +"Over south from Black Cloud's Greyhoss camp an' across the Arkansaw +an' some'ers between the Polecat an' the Cimmaron thar's livin' a young +Creek buck called the Lance. He's straight an' slim an' strong as the +weepon he's named for; an' he like Black Cloud is a medicine sharp of +cel'bration an' stands way up in the papers. The Creeks is never weary +of talkin' about the Lance an' what a marvel as a medicine man he is; +also, by way of insultin' the Osages, they declar's onhesitatin' that +the Lance lays over Black Cloud like four tens, an' offers to bet +hosses an' blankets an' go as far as the Osages likes that this is troo. + +"By what Strike Axe informs me,--an' he ain't none likely to overplay +in his statements--by what Strike Axe tells me, I says, the Lance must +shore have been the high kyard as a medicine man. Let it get dark with +the night an' no moon in the skies, an' the Lance could take you-all +into his medicine lodge, an' you'd hear the sperits flappin' their +pinions like some one flappin' a blanket, an' thar'd be whisperin's an' +goin's on outside the lodge an' in, while fire-eyes would show an' burn +an' glower up in the peak of the teepee; an' all plenty skeary an' +mystifiyin'. Besides these yere accomplishments the Lance is one of +them mesmerism sports who can set anamiles to dreamin'. He could call +a coyote or a fox, or even so fitful an' nervous a prop'sition as a +antelope; an' little by little, snuffin' an' snortin', or if it's a +coyote, whinin', them beasts would approach the Lance ontil they're +that clost he'd tickle their heads with his fingers while they stands +shiverin' an' sweatin' with apprehensions. You can put a bet on it, +son, that accordin' to this onbiassed buck, Strike Axe, the Lance is +ondoubted the big medicine throughout the Injun range. + +"As might be assoomed, the Black Cloud is some heated ag'in the Lance +an' looks on him with baleful eye as a rival. Still, Black Cloud has +his nerve with him constant, an' tharfore one day when the Osages an' +Creeks has been dispootin' touchin' the reespective powers of him an' +the Lance, an' this latter Injun offers to come over to Greyhoss an' +make medicine ag'in him, Black Cloud never hesitates or hangs back like +a dog tied onder a waggon, but calls the bluff a heap prompt an' tells +the Lance to come. + +"Which the day is set an' the Lance shows in the door, as monte sharps +would say. Black Cloud an' the Lance tharupon expands themse'fs, an' +delights the assembled Creeks an' Osages with their whole box of +tricks, an' each side is braggin' an' boastin' an' puttin' it up that +their gent is most likely the soonest medicine man who ever buys black +paint. It's about hoss an' hoss between the two. + +"Black Cloud accompanies himse'f to this contest with a pure white pony +which has eyes red as roobies--a kind o' albino pony--an' he gives it +forth that this milk-coloured bronco is his 'big medicine' or familiar +sperit. The Lance observes that the little red-eyed hoss is mighty +impressive to the savages, be they Creeks or Osages. At last he says +to Black Cloud: + +"'To show how my medicine is stronger than yours, to-morry I'll make +your red-eyed big medicine bronco go lame in his off hind laig.' + +"Black Cloud grins scornful at this; he allows that no sport can make +his white pony go lame. + +"He's plumb wrong; the next mornin' the white pony is limpin' an' +draggin' his off hind hoof, an' when he's standin' still he p'ints the +toe down like something's fetched loose. Black Cloud is sore; but he +can't find no cactus thorn nor nothin' to bring about the lameness an' +he don't know what to make of the racket. Black Cloud's up ag'inst it, +an' the audience begins to figger that the Lance's' medicine is too +strong for Black Cloud. + +"What's the trouble with the red-eyed pony? That's simple enough, son. +The Lance done creeps over in the night an' ties a hossha'r tight about +the pony's laig jest above the fetlock. Black Cloud ain't up to no +sech move, the same bein' a trade secret of the Lance's an' bein' the +hossha'r is hid in the ha'r on the pony's laig, no one notes its +presence. + +"After Black Cloud looks his red-eyed big medicine pony all over an' +can't onderstand its lameness, the Lance asks him will he cure it. +Black Cloud, who's sc'owlin' like midnight by now, retorts that he +will. So he gets his pipe an' fills it with medicine tobacco an' blows +a mouthful of smoke in the red-eyed pony's nose. Sech remedies don't +work; that pony still limps on three laigs, draggin' the afflicted +member mighty pensive. + +"At last the Lance gives Black Cloud a patronisin' smile an' says that +his medicine'll cure the pony sound an' well while you're crackin' off +a gun. He walks up to the pony an' looks long in its red eyes; the +pony's y'ears an' tail droops, its head hangs down, an' it goes mighty +near to sleep. Then the Lance rubs his hand two or three times up an' +down the lame laig above the fetlock an' elim'nates that hossha'r +ligature an' no one the wiser. A moment after, he wakes up the +red-eyed pony an' to the amazement of the Osages an' the onbounded +delight of the Creeks, the pony is no longer lame, an' the laig so late +afflicted is as solid an' healthy as a sod house. What's bigger +medicine still, the red-eyed pony begins to follow the Lance about like +a dog an' as if it's charmed; an' it likewise turns in to bite an' r'ar +an' pitch an' jump sideways if Black Cloud seeks to put his paw on him. +Then all the Injuns yell with one voice: 'The Lance has won the Black +Cloud's big medicine red-eyed pony away from him.' + +"The Lance is shore the fashion, an' Black Cloud discovers he ain't a +four-spot by compar'son. His repootation is gone, an' the Lance is +regyarded as the great medicine along the Arkansaw. + +"Sunbright is lookin' on at these manoovers an' her heart goes out to +the Lance; she falls more deeply in love with him than even the +red-eyed bronco does. That evenin' as the Lance is goin' to his camp +onder the cottonwoods, he meets up with Sunbright standin' still as a +tree in his path with her head bowed like a flower that's gone to +sleep. The Lance saveys; he knows Sunbright; likewise he knows what +her plantin' herse'f in his way an' her droopin' attitoode explains. +He looks at her, an' says; + +"'I am a guest of the Osages, an' to-night is not the night. Wait +ontil the Lance is in his own teepee on the Polecat; then come.' + +"Sunbright never moves, never looks up; but she hears an' she knows +this is right. No buck should steal a squaw while he's a guest. The +Lance walks on an' leaves her standin', head bowed an' motionless. + +"Two days later the Lance is ag'in in his own teepee. Sunbright counts +the time an' knows that he must be thar. She skulks from the camp of +Black Cloud an' starts on her journey to be a new wife to a new husband. + +"Sunbright is a mile from camp when she's interrupted. It's Black +Cloud who heads her off. Black Cloud may not be the boss medicine man, +but he's no fool, an' his eyes is like a wolf's eyes an' can see in the +dark. He guesses the new love which has stampeded Sunbright. + +"Injuns is a mighty cur'ous outfit. Now if Sunbright had succeeded in +gettin' to the lodge of her new husband, the divorce between her an' +Black Cloud would have been complete. Moreover, if on the day +followin' or at any time Black Cloud had found her thar, he wouldn't so +much as have wagged a y'ear or batted a eye in recognition. He +wouldn't have let on he ever hears of a squaw called 'Sunbright.' This +ca'mness would be born of two causes. It would be ag'in Injun +etiquette to go trackin' about makin' a onseemly uproar an' disturbin' +the gen'ral peace for purely private causes. Then ag'in it would be +beneath the dignity of a high grade savage an' a big medicine sharp to +conduct himse'f like he'd miss so trivial a thing as a squaw. + +"But ontil Sunbright fulfils her elopement projects an' establishes +herse'f onder the protectin' wing of her new love, she's runnin' resks. +She's still the Black Cloud's squaw; an' after she pulls her marital +picket pin an' while she's gettin' away, if the bereaved Black Cloud +crosses up with her he's free, onder the license permitted to Injun +husbands, to kill her an' skelp her an' dispose of her as consists best +with his moods. + +"Sunbright knows this; an' when she runs ag'in the Black Cloud in her +flight, she seats herse'f in the long prairie grass an' covers her head +with her blanket an' speaks never a word. + +"'Does Sunbright so love me,' says Black Cloud, turnin' aheap ugly, +'that she comes to meet me? Is it for me she has combed her h'ar an' +put on a new feather an' beads? Does she wear her new blanket an' +paint her face bright for Black Cloud? Or does she dress herse'f like +the sun for that Creek coyote, the Lance?'" Sunbright makes no reply, +Black Cloud looks at her a moment an' then goes on: "It's for the +Lance! Good! I will fix the Sunbright so she will be a good squaw to +my friend, the Lance, an' never run from his lodge as she does now from +Black Cloud's.' With that he stoops down, an' a slash of his knife +cuts the heel-tendons of Sunbright's right foot. She groans, and +writhes about the prairie, while Black Cloud puts his knife back in his +belt, gets into his saddle ag'in an' rides away. + +"The next day a Creek boy finds the body of Sunbright where she rolls +herse'f into the Greyhoss an' is drowned. + +"When the Lance hears the story an' sees the knife slash on Sunbright's +heel, he reads the trooth. It gives him a bad heart; he paints his +face red an' black an thinks how he'll be revenged. Next day he sends +a runner to Black Cloud with word that Black Cloud has stole his hoss. +This is to arrange a fight on virtuous grounds. The Lance says that in +two days when the sun is overhead Black Cloud must come to the three +cottonwoods near the mouth of the Cimmaron an' fight, or the Lance on +the third day an' each day after will hunt for him as he'd hunt a wolf +ontil Black Cloud is dead. The Black Cloud's game, an' sends word that +on the second day he'll be thar by the three cottonwoods when the sun +is overhead; also, that he will fight with four arrows. + +"Then Black Cloud goes at once, for he has no time to lose, an' kills a +dog near his lodge. He cuts out its heart an' carries it to the rocky +canyon where the rattlesnakes have a village. Black Cloud throws the +dog's heart among them an' teases them with it; an' the rattlesnakes +bite the dog's heart ag'in an' ag'in ontil it's as full of p'isen as a +bottle is of rum. After that, Black Cloud puts the p'isened heart in +the hot sun an' lets it fret an' fester ontil jest before he goes to +his dooel with the Lance. As he's about to start, Black Cloud dips the +four steel arrowheads over an' over in the p'isened heart, bein' +careful to dry the p'isen on the arrowheads; an' now whoever is touched +with these arrows so that the blood comes is shore to die. The biggest +medicine in the nation couldn't save him. + +"Thar's forty Osage and forty Creek bucks at the three cottonwoods to +see that the dooelists get a squar' deal. The Lance an' Black Cloud is +thar; each has a bow an' four arrows; each has made medicine all night +that he may kill his man. + +"But the dooel strikes a obstacle. + +"Thar's a sombre, sullen sport among the Osages who's troo name is the +'Bob-cat,' but who's called the 'Knife Thrower.' The Bob-cat is one of +the Osage forty. Onknown to the others, this yere Bob-cat--who it +looks like is a mighty impressionable savage--is himse'f in love with +the dead Sunbright. An' he's hot an' cold because he's fearful that in +this battle of the bows the Lance'll down Black Cloud an' cheat him, +the Bob-cat, of his own revenge. The chance is too much; the Bob-cat +can't stand it an' resolves to get his stack down first. An' so it +happens that as Black Cloud an' the Lance, painted in their war +colours, is walkin' to their places, a nine-inch knife flickers like a +gleam of light from the hand of the Bob-cat, an' merely to show that he +ain't called the 'Knife Thrower' for fun, catches Black Cloud flush in +the throat, an' goes through an' up to the gyard at the knife-haft. +Black Cloud dies standin', for the knife p'int bites his spine. + +"No, son, no one gets arrested; Injuns don't have jails, for the mighty +excellent reason that no Injun culprit ever vamoses an' runs away. +Injun crim'nals, that a-way, allers stands their hands an' takes their +hemlock. The Osages, who for Injuns is some shocked at the Bob-cat's +interruption of the dooel--it bein' mighty onparliamentary from their +standp'ints--tries the Bob-cat in their triboonals for killin' Black +Cloud an' he's decided on as guilty accordin' to their law. They +app'ints a day for the Bob-cat to be shot; an' as he ain't present at +the trial none, leavin' his end of the game to be looked after by his +reelatives, they orders a kettle-tender or tribe crier to notify the +Bob-cat when an' where he's to come an' have said sentence execooted +upon him. When he's notified, the Bob-cat don't say nothin'; which is +satisfactory enough, as thar's nothin' to be said, an' every Osage +knows the Bob-cat'll be thar at the drop of the handkerchief if he's +alive. + +"It so turns out; the Bob-cat's thar as cool as wild plums. He's +dressed in his best blankets an' leggin's; an' his feathers an' gay +colours makes him a overwhelmin' match for peacocks. Thar's a white +spot painted over his heart. + +"The chief of the Osages, who's present to see jestice done, motions to +the Bob-cat, an' that gent steps to a red blanket an' stands on its +edge with all the blanket spread in front of him on the grass. The +Bob-cat stands on the edge, as he saveys when he's plugged that he'll +fall for'ard on his face. When a gent gets the gaff for shore, he +falls for'ard. If a party is hit an' falls back'ards, you needn't get +excited none; he's only creased an' 'll get over it. + +"Wherefore, as I states, the Bob-cat stands on the edge of the blanket +so it's spread out in front to catch him as he drops. Thar's not a +word spoke by either the Bob-cat or the onlookers, the latter openin' +out into a lane behind so the lead can go through. When the Bob-cat's +ready, his cousin, a buck whose name is Little Feather, walks to the +front of the blanket an' comes down careful with his Winchester on the +white mark over the Bob-cat's heart. Thar's a moment's silence as the +Bob-cat's cousin runs his eye through the sights; thar's a flash an' a +hatful of gray smoke; the white spot turns red with blood; an' then the +Bob-cat falls along on his face as soft as a sack of corn. + +"What becomes of the Lance? It's two weeks later when that scientist +is waited on by a delegation of Osages. They reminds him that +Sunbright has two sisters, the same bein' now widows by virchoo of the +demise of that egreegious Black Cloud. Also, the Black Cloud was rich; +his teepee was sumptuous, an' he's left a buckskin coat with ivory elk +teeth sewed onto it plenty as stars at night. The coat is big +medicine; moreover thar's the milk-white big medicine bronco with red +eyes. The Osage delegation puts forth these trooths while the Lance +sets cross-laiged on a b'arskin an' smokes willow bark with much +dignity. In the finish, the Osage outfit p'ints up to the fact that +their tribe is shy a medicine man, an' a gent of the Lance's +accomplishments who can charm anamiles an' lame broncos will be a +mighty welcome addition to the Osage body politic. The Lance lays down +his pipe at this an' says, 'It is enough!' An' the next day he sallies +over an' weds them two relicts of Black Cloud an' succeeds to that dead +necromancer's estate an' both at one fell swoop. The two widows +chuckles an' grins after the manner of ladies, to get a new husband so +swift; an' abandonin' his lodge on the Polecat the Lance sets up his +game at Greyhoss, an' onless he's petered, he's thar dealin' it yet." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +Tom and Jerry; Wheelers. + +"Obstinacy or love, that a-way, when folks pushes 'em to excess, is shore +bad medicine. Which I'd be aheap loath to count the numbers them two +attribootes harries to the tomb. Why, son, it's them sentiments that +kills off my two wheel mules, Tom an' Jerry." + +The Old Cattleman appeared to be on the verge of abstract discussion. As +a metaphysician, he was not to be borne with. There was one method of +escape; I interfered to coax the currents of his volubility into other +and what were to me, more interesting channels. + +"Tell me of the trail; or a story about animals," I urged. "You were +saying recently that perfect systems of oral if not verbal communication +existed among mules, and that you had listened for hours to their gossip. +Give me the history of one of your freighting trips and what befell along +the trail; and don't forget the comment thereon--wise, doubtless, it +was--of your long-eared servants of the rein and trace-chain." + +"Tell you what chances along the trail? Son, you-all opens a wide-flung +range for my mem'ry to graze over. I might tell you how I'm lost once, +freightin' from Vegas into the Panhandle, an' am two days without +water--blazin' Jooly days so hot you couldn't touch tire, chain, or +bolt-head without fryin' your fingers. An' how at the close of the +second day when I hauls in at Cabra Springs, I lays down by that cold an' +blessed fountain an' drinks till I aches. Which them two days of thirst +terrorises me to sech degrees that for one plumb year tharafter, I never +meets up with water when I don't drink a quart, an' act like I'm layin' +in ag'in another parched spell. + +"Or I might relate how I stops over one night from Springer on my way to +the Canadian at a Triangle-dot camp called Kingman. This yere is a +one-room stone house, stark an' sullen an' alone on the desolate plains, +an' no scenery worth namin' but a half-grown feeble spring. This Kingman +ain't got no windows; its door is four-inch thick of oak; an' thar's +loopholes for rifles in each side which shows the sports who builds that +edifice in the stormy long-ago is lookin' for more trouble than comfort +an' prepares themse'fs. The two cow-punchers I finds in charge is scared +to a standstill; they allows this Kingman's ha'nted. They tells me how +two parties who once abides thar--father an' son they be--gets downed by +a hold-up whose aim is pillage, an' who comes cavortin' along an' +butchers said fam'ly in their sleep. The cow-punchers declar's they +hears the spooks go scatterin' about the room as late as the night before +I trails in. I ca'ms 'em--not bein' subject to nerve stampedes myse'f, +an' that same midnight when the sperits comes ha'ntin' about ag'in, I +turns outen my blankets an' lays said spectres with the butt of my mule +whip--the same when we strikes a light an' counts 'em up bein' a couple +of kangaroo rats. This yere would front up for a mighty thrillin' tale +if I throws myse'f loose with its reecital an' daubs in the colour plenty +vivid an' free. + +"Then thar's the time I swings over to the K-bar-8 ranch for corn--bein' +I'm out of said cereal--an' runs up on a cow gent, spurs, gun-belt, big +hat an' the full regalia, hangin' to the limb of a cottonwood, dead as +George the Third, an' not a hundred foot from the ranch door. An' how +inside I finds a half-dozen more cow folks, lookin' grave an' sayin' +nothin'; an' the ranch manager has a bloody bandage about his for'ead, +an' another holdin' up his left arm, half bandage an' half sling, the +toot ensemble, as Colonel Sterett calls it, showin' sech recent war that +the blood's still wet on the cloths an' drops on the floor as we talks. +An' how none of us says a word about the dead gent in the cottonwood or +of the manager who's shot up; an' how that same manager outfits me with +ten sacks of mule-food an' I goes p'intin' out for the Southeast an' +forgets all I sees an' never mentions it ag'in. + +"Then thar's Sim Booth of the Fryin' Pan outfit, who's one evenin' camped +with me at Antelope Springs; an' who saddles up an' ropes onto the laigs +of a dead Injun where they're stickin' forth--bein' washed free by the +rains--an' pulls an' rolls that copper-coloured departed outen his +sepulchre a lot, an' then starts his pony off at a canter an' sort o' +fritters the remains about the landscape. Sim does this on the argyment +that the obsequies, former, takes place too near the spring. This yere +Sim's pony two months later steps in a dog hole when him an' Sim's goin' +along full swing with some cattle on a stampede, an' the cayouse falls on +Sim an' breaks everything about him incloosive of his neck. The other +cow-punchers allers allow it's because Sim turns out that aborigine over +by Antelope Springs. Now sech a eepisode, properly elab'rated, might +feed your attention an' hold it spellbound some. + +"Son, if I was to turn myse'f loose on, great an' little, the divers +incidents of the trail, it would consoome days in the relation. I could +tell of cactus flowers, blazin' an' brilliant as a eye of red fire ag'in +the brown dusk of the deserts; or of mile-long fields of Spanish bayonet +in bloom; or of some Mexican's doby shinin' like a rooby in the sunlight +a day's journey ahead, the same one onbroken mass from roof to ground of +the peppers they calls _chili_, all reddenin' in the hot glare of the day. + +"Or, if you has a fancy for stirrin' incident an' lively scenes, thar's a +time when the rains has raised the old Canadian ontil that quicksand ford +at Tascosa--which has done eat a hundred teams if ever it swallows +one!--is torn up complete an' the bottom of the river nothin' save +b'ilin' sand with a shallow yere an' a hole deep enough to drown a house +scooped out jest beyond. An' how since I can't pause a week or two for +the river to run down an' the ford to settle, I goes spraddlin' an' +tumblin' an' swimmin' across on Tom, my nigh wheeler, opens negotiations +with the LIT ranch, an' Bob Roberson, has his riders round-up the +pasture, an' comes chargin' down to the ford with a bunch of one thousand +ponies, all of 'em dancin' an' buckin' an' prancin' like chil'en outen +school. Roberson an' the LIT boys throws the thousand broncos across an' +across the ford for mighty likely it's fifty times. They'd flash 'em +through--the whole band together--on the run; an' then round 'em up on +the opp'site bank, turn 'em an' jam 'em through ag'in. When they ceases, +the bottom of the river is tramped an' beat out as hard an' as flat as a +floor, an' I hooks up an' brings the waggons over like the +ford--bottomless quicksand a hour prior--is one of these yere asphalt +streets. + +"Or I might relate about a cowboy tournament that's held over in the flat +green bottom of Parker's arroya; an' how Jack Coombs throws a rope an' +fastens at one hundred an' four foot, while Waco Simpson rides at the +herd of cattle one hundred foot away, ropes, throws an' ties down a +partic'lar steer, frees his lariat an' is back with the jedges ag'in in +forty-eight seconds. Waco wins the prize, a Mexican +saddle--stamp-leather an' solid gold she is--worth four hundred dollars, +by them onpreecedented alacrities. + +"Or, I might impart about a Mexican fooneral where the hearse is a +blanket with two poles along the aige, the same as one of these battle +litters; of the awful songs the mournful Mexicans sings about departed; +of the candles they burns an' the dozens of baby white-pine crosses they +sets up on little jim-crow stone-heaps along the trail to the tomb; +meanwhiles, howlin' dirges constant. + +"Now I thinks of it I might bresh up the recollections of a mornin' when +I rolls over, blankets an' all, onto something that feels as big as a +boot-laig an' plenty squirmy; an' how I shows zeal a-gettin' to my feet, +knowin' I'm reposin' on a rattlesnake who's bunked in ag'in my back all +sociable to warm himse'f. It's worth any gent's while to see how heated +an' indignant that serpent takes it because of me turnin' out so early +and so swift. + +"Then thar's a mornin' when I finds myse'f not five miles down the wind +from a prairie fire; an' it crackin' an' roarin' in flame-sheets twenty +foot high an' makin' for'ard jumps of fifty foot. What do I do? Go +for'ard down the wind, set fire to the grass myse'f, an' let her burn +ahead of me. In two minutes I'm over on a burned deestrict of my own, +an' by the time the orig'nal flames works down to my fire line, my own +speshul fire is three miles ahead an I myse'f am ramblin' along cool an' +saloobrious with a safe, shore area of burnt prairie to my r'ar. + +"An' thar's a night on the Serrita la Cruz doorin' a storm, when the +lightnin' melts the tire on the wheel of my trail-waggon, an' me layin' +onder it at the time. An' it don't even wake me up. Thar's the time, +too, when I crosses up at Chico Springs with eighty Injuns who's been +buffalo huntin' over to the South Paloduro, an' has with 'em four hundred +odd ponies loaded with hides an' buffalo beef an' all headed for their +home-camps over back of Taos. The bucks is restin' up a day or two when +I rides in; later me an' a half dozen jumps a band of antelopes jest +'round a p'int of rocks. Son, you-all would have admired to see them +savages shoot their arrows. I observes one young buck a heap clost. He +holds the bow flat down with his left hand while his arrows in their +cow-skin quiver sticks over his right shoulder. The way he would flash +his right hand back, yank forth a arrow, slam it on his bow, pull it to +the head an' cut it loose, is shore a heap earnest. Them missiles would +go sailin' off for over three hundred yards, an' I sees him get seven +started before ever the first one strikes the ground. The Injuns +acquires four antelope by this archery an' shoots mebby some forty +arrows; all of which they carefully reclaims when the excitement +subsides. She's trooly a sperited exhibition an' I finds it mighty +entertainin'. + +"I throws these hints loose to show what might be allooded to by way of +stories, grave and gay, of sights pecooliar to the trail if only some +gent of experience ups an' devotes himse'f to the relations. As it is, +however, an' recurrin' to Tom an' Jerry--the same bein' as I informs you, +my two wheel mules--I reckons now I might better set forth as to how they +comes to die that time. It's his obstinacy that downs Jerry; while pore, +tender Tom perishes the victim--volunteer at that--of the love he b'ars +his contrary mate. + +"Them mules, Tom an' Jerry, is obtained by me, orig'nal in Vegas. +They're the wheelers of a eight-mule team; an' I gives Frosty--who's a +gambler an' wins 'em at monte of some locoed sport from Chaparita--twelve +hundred dollars for the outfit. Which the same is cheap an' easy at +double the _dinero_. + +"These mules evident has been part an' passel of the estates of some +Mexican, for I finds a cross marked on each harness an' likewise on both +waggons. Mexicans employs this formal'ty to run a bluff on any evil +sperit who may come projectin' round. Your American mule skinner never +makes them tokens. As a roole he's defiant of sperits; an' even when he +ain't he don't see no refooge in a cross. Mexicans, on the other hand, +is plenty strong on said symbol. Every mornin' you beholds a Mexican +with a dab of white on his fore'erd an' on each cheek bone, an' also on +his chin where he crosses himse'f with flour; shore, the custom is +yooniversal an' it takes a quart of flour to fully fortify a full-blown +Greaser household ag'inst the antic'pated perils of the day. + +"No sooner am I cl'ar of Vegas--I'm camped near the Plaza de la +Concepcion at the time--when I rounds up the eight mules an' looks 'em +over with reference to their characters. This is jest after I acquires +'em. It's allers well for a gent to know what he's ag'inst; an' you can +put down a stack the disp'sitions of eight mules is a important problem. + +"The review is plenty satisfactory. The nigh leader is a steady +practical person as a lead mule oughter be, an' I notes by his ca'm +jedgmatical eye that he's goin' to give himse'f the benefit of every +doubt, an' ain't out to go stampedin' off none without knowin' the reason +why. His mate at the other end of the jockey-stick is nervous an' +hysterical; she never trys to solve no riddles of existence herse'f, this +Jane mule don't, but relies on her mate Peter an' plays Peter's system +blind. The nigh p'inter is a deecorous form of mule with no bad habits; +while his mate over the chain is one of these yere hard, se'fish, wary +parties an' his little game is to get as much of everything except work +an' trouble as the lay of the kyards permits. My nigh swing mule is a +wit like I tells you the other day. Which this jocose anamile is the +life of the team an' allers lettin' fly some dry, quaint observation. +This mule wag is partic'lar excellent at a bad ford or a hard crossin', +an his gay remarks, full of p'int as a bowie knife, shorely cheers an' +uplifts the sperits of the rest. The off swing is a heedless creature +who regyards his facetious mate as the very parent of fun, an' he goes +about with his y'ear cocked an' his mouth ajar, ready to laugh them 'hah, +hah!' laughs of his'n at every word his pard turns loose. + +"Tom an' Jerry is different from the others. Bein' bigger an' havin' +besides the respons'bilities of the hour piled onto them as wheel mules +must, they cultivates a sooperior air an is distant an' reserved in their +attitoodes towards the other six. As to each other their pose needs more +deescription. Tom, the nigh wheeler--the one I rides when drivin'--is +infatyooated with Jerry. I hears a sky-sharp aforetime preach about +Jonathan an' David. Yet I'm yere to assert, son, that them sacred people +ain't on speakin' terms compared to the way that pore old lovin' Tom mule +feels towards Jerry. + +"This affection of Tom's is partic'lar amazin' when you-all recalls the +fashion in which the sullen Jerry receives it. Doorin' the several years +I spends in their s'ciety I never once detects Jerry in any look or word +of kindness to Tom. Jerry bites him an' kicks him an' cusses him out +constant; he never tol'rates Tom closter than twenty foot onless at times +when he orders Tom to curry him. Shore, the imbecile Tom submits. On +sech o'casions when Jerry issues a summons to go over him, usin' his +upper teeth for a comb an' bresh, Tom is never so happy. Which he digs +an' delves at Jerry's ribs that a-way like it's a honour; after a half +hour, mebby, when Jerry feels refreshed s'fficient, he w'irls on Tom an' +dismisses him with both heels. + +"'I track up on folks who's jest the same,' says Dan Boggs, one time when +I mentions this onaccountable infatyooation of Tom. 'This Jerry loves +that Tom mule mate of his, only he ain't lettin' on. I knows a lady +whose treatment of her husband is a dooplicate of Jerry's. She metes out +the worst of it to that long-sufferin' shorthorn at every bend in the +trail; it looks like he never wins a good word or a soft look from her +once. An' yet when that party cashes in, whatever does the lady do? +Takes a hooker of whiskey, puts in p'isen enough to down a dozen wolves, +an' drinks off every drop. 'Far'well, vain world, I'm goin' home,' says +the lady; 'which I prefers death to sep'ration, an' I'm out to jine my +beloved husband in the promised land.' I knows, for I attends the +fooneral of that family--said fooneral is a double-header as the lady, +bein' prompt, trails out after her husband before ever he's pitched his +first camp--an' later assists old Chandler in deevisin' a epitaph, the +same occurrin' in these yere familiar words: + + "She sort o got the drop on him, + In the dooel of earthly love; + Let's hope he gets an even break + When they meets in heaven above." + +"'Thar,' concloods Dan, 'is what I regyards as a parallel experience to +this Tom an' Jerry. The lady plays Jerry's system from soda to hock, an' +yet you-all can see in the lights of that thar sooicide how deep she +loves him.' + +"'That's all humbug, Dan,' says Enright; 'the lady you relates of isn't +lovin'. She's only locoed that a-way.' + +"'Whyever if she's locoed, then,' argues Dan, 'don't they up an' hive her +in one of their madhouse camps? She goes chargin' about as free an' +fearless as a cyclone.' + +"'All the same,' says Texas Thompson, 'her cashin' in don't prove no +lovin' heart. Mebby she does it so's to chase him up an' continyoo +onbroken them hectorin's of her's. I could onfold a fact or two about +that wife of mine who cuts out the divorce from me in Laredo that would +lead you to concloosions sim'lar. But she wasn't your wife; an' I don't +aim to impose my domestic afflictions on this innocent camp, which bein' +troo I mootely stands my hand.' + +"This Jerry's got one weakness however, I don't never take advantage of +it. He's scared to frenzy if you pulls a gun. I reckons, with all them +crimes of his'n preyin' on his mind, that he allows you're out, to shoot +him up. Jerry is ca'm so long as your gun's in the belt, deemin' it as +so much onmeanin' ornament. But the instant you pulls it like you're +goin' to put it in play, he onbuckles into piercin' screams. I reaches +for my six-shooter one evenin' by virchoo of antelopes, an' that's the +time I discovers this foible of Jerry's. I never gets a shot. At the +sight of the gun Jerry evolves a howl an' the antelopes tharupon hits two +or three high places an' is miles away. Shore, they thinks Jerry is some +new breed of demon. + +"When I turns to note the cause of Jerry's clamours he's loppin' his +fore-laigs over Tom's back an' sobbin' an' sheddin' tears into his mane. +Tom sympathises with Jerry an' says all he can to teach him that the +avenger ain't on his trail. Nothin' can peacify Jerry, however, except +jammin' that awful six-shooter back into its holster. I goes over Jerry +that evenin' patiently explorin' for bullet marks, but thar ain't none. +No one's ever creased him; an' I figgers final by way of a s'lootion of +his fits that mighty likely Jerry's attended some killin' between +hoomans, inadvertent, an' has the teeth of his apprehensions set on aige. + +"Jerry is that high an' haughty he won't come up for corn in the mornin' +onless I petitions him partic'lar an' calls him by name. To jest whoop +'Mules!' he holds don't incloode him. Usual I humours Jerry an' shouts +his title speshul, the others bein' called in a bunch. When Jerry hears +his name he walks into camp, delib'rate an' dignified, an' kicks every +mule to pieces who tries to shove in ahead. + +"Once, feelin' some malignant myse'f, I tries Jerry's patience out. I +don't call 'Jerry,' merely shouts 'Mules' once or twice an' lets it go at +that. Jerry, when he notices I don't refer to him partic'lar lays his +y'ears back; an' although his r'ar elevation is towards me I can see he's +hotter than a hornet. The faithful Tom abides with Jerry; though he +tells him it's feed time an' that the others with a nosebag on each of +'em is already at their repasts. Jerry only gets madder an' lays for Tom +an' tries to bite him. After ten minutes, sullen an' sulky, hunger beats +Jerry an' he comes bumpin' into camp like a bar'l down hill an' eases his +mind by wallopin' both hind hoofs into them other blameless mules, +peacefully munchin' their rations. Also, after Jerry's let me put the +nosebag onto him he reeverses his p'sition an' swiftly lets fly at me. +But I ain't in no trance an' Jerry misses. I don't frale him; I saveys +it's because he feels hoomiliated with me not callin' him by name. + +"As a roole me an' Jerry gets through our dooties harmonious. He can +pull like a lion an' never flinches or flickers at a pinch. It's shore a +vict'ry to witness the heroic way Jerry goes into the collar at a hard +steep hill or some swirlin', rushin' ford. Sech bein' Jerry's work +habits I'm prepared to overlook a heap of moral deeficiencies an' never +lays it up ag'in Jerry that he's morose an' repellant when I flings him +any kindnesses. + +"But while I don't resent 'em none by voylence, still Jerry has habits +ag'inst which I has to gyard. You-all recalls how long ago I tells you +of Jerry's, bein' a thief. Shore, he can't he'p it; he's a born +kleptomaniac. Leastwise 'kleptomaniac' is what Colonel Sterett calls it +when he's tellin' me of a party who's afflicted sim'lar. + +"'Otherwise this gent's a heap respectable,' says the Colonel. 'Morally +speakin' thar's plenty who's worse. Of course, seein' he's crowdin' +forty years, he ain't so shamefully innocent neither. He ain't no +debyootanty; still, he ain't no crime-wrung debauchee. I should say he +grades midway in between. But deep down in his system this person's a +kleptomaniac, an' at last his weakness gets its hobbles off an' he turns +himse'f loose, an' begins to jest nacherally take things right an' left. +No, he don't get put away in Huntsville; they sees he's locoed an' he's +corraled instead in one of the asylums where thar's nothin' loose an' +little kickin' 'round, an' tharfore no temptations.' + +"Takin' the word then from Colonel Sterett, Jerry is a kleptomaniac. I +used former to hobble Jerry but one mornin' I'm astounded to see what +looks like snow all about my camp. Bein' she's in Joone that snow theery +don't go. An' it ain't snow, it's flour; this kleptomaniac Jerry creeps +to the waggons while I sleeps an' gets away, one after the other, with +fifteen fifty-pound sacks of flour. Then he entertains himse'f an' Tom +by p'radin' about with the sacks in his teeth, shakin' an' tossin' his +head an' powderin' my 'Pride of Denver' all over the plains. Which Jerry +shore frosts that scenery plumb lib'ral. + +"It's the next night an' I don't hobble Jerry; I pegs him out on a +lariat. What do you-all reckon now that miscreant does? Corrupts pore +Tom who you may be certain is sympathisin' 'round, an' makes Tom go to +the waggons, steal the flour an' pack it out to him where he's pegged. +The soopine Tom, who otherwise is the soul of integrity, abstracts six +sacks for his mate an' at daybreak the wretched Jerry's standin' thar, +white as milk himse'f, an' flour a foot deep in a cirkle whereof the +radius is his rope Tom's gazin' on Jerry in a besotted way like he allows +he's certainly the greatest sport on earth. + +"Which this last is too much an' I ropes up Jerry for punishment. I +throws an' hawgties Jerry, an' he's layin' thar on his side. His eye is +obdoorate an' thar's neither shame nor repentance in his heart. Tom is +sort o' sobbin' onder his breath; Tom would have swapped places with +Jerry too quick an' I sees he has it in his mind to make the offer, only +he knows I'll turn it down." + +"The other six mules comes up an' loafs about observant an' respectful. +They jestifies my arrangements; besides Jerry is mighty onpop'lar with +'em by reason of his heels. I can hear Peter the little lead mule sayin' +to Jane, his mate: 'The boss is goin' to lam Jerry a lot with a +trace-chain. Which it's shore comin' to him!' + +"I w'irls the chain on high an' lays it along Jerry's evil ribs, +_kerwhillup_! Every other link bites through the hide an' the chain +plows a most excellent an' wholesome furrow. As the chain descends, the +sympathetic Tom jumps an' gives a groan. Tom feels a mighty sight worse +than his _companero_. At the sixth wallop Tom can't b'ar no more, but +with tears an' protests comes an' stands over Jerry an' puts it up he'll +take the rest himse'f. This evidence of brotherly love stands me off, +an' for Tom's sake I desists an' throws Jerry loose. That old +scoundrel--while I sees he's onforgivin' an' a-harbourin' of hatreds +ag'in me--don't forget the trace-chain an' comports himse'f like a +law-abidin' mule for months. He even quits bitin' an' kickin' Tom, an' +that lovin' beast seems like he's goin' to break his heart over it, +'cause he looks on it as a sign that Jerry's gettin' cold. + +"But thar comes a day when I loses both Tom an' Jerry. It's about second +drink time one August mornin' an' me an' my eight mules goes scamperin' +through a little Mexican plaza called Tramperos on our way to the +Canadian. Over by a 'doby stands a old fleabitten gray mare; she's shore +hideous. + +"Now if mules has one overmasterin' deloosion it's a gray mare; she's the +religion an' the goddess of the mules. This knowledge is common; if +you-all is ever out to create a upheaval in the bosom of a mule the +handiest, quickest lever is a old gray mare. The gov'ment takes +advantage of this aberration of the mules. Thar's trains of pack mules +freightin' to the gov'ment posts in the Rockies. They figgers on three +hundred pounds to the mule an' the freight is packed in panniers. The +gov'ment freighters not bein' equal to the manifold mysteries of a +diamond-hitch, don't use no reg'lar shore-enough pack saddle but takes +refooge with their ignorance in panniers. + +"Speakin' gen'ral, thar's mebby two hundred mules in one of these +gov'ment pack trains. An' in the lead, followed, waited on an' +worshipped by the mules, is a aged gray mare. She don't pack nothin' but +her virchoo an' a little bell, which last is hung 'round her neck. This +old mare, with nothin' but her character an' that bell to encumber her, +goes fa'rly flyin' light. But go as fast an' as far as she pleases, them +long-y'eared locoed worshippers of her's won't let her outen their +raptured sight. The last one of 'em, panniers, freight an' all, would go +surgin' to the topmost pinnacle of the Rockies if she leads the way. + +"An' at that this gray mare don't like mules none; she abhors their +company an' kicks an' abooses 'em to a standstill whenever they draws +near. But the fool mules don't care; it's ecstacy to simply know she's +livin' an' that mule's cup of joy is runnin' over who finds himse'f +permitted to crop grass within forty foot of his old, gray bell-bedecked +idol. + +"We travels all day, followin' glimpsin' that flea-bitten cayouse at +Tramperos. But the mules can't think or talk of nothin' else. It +arouses their religious enthoosiasm to highest pitch; even the cynic +Jerry gets half-way keyed up over it. I looks for trouble that night; +an' partic'lar I pegs out Jerry plenty deep and strong. The rest is +hobbled, all except Tom. Gray mare or not, I'll gamble the outfit Tom +wouldn't abandon Jerry, let the indoocement be ever so alloorin'. + +"Every well-organised mule team that a-way allers carries along a bronco. +This little steed, saddled an' bridled, trots throughout the day by the +side of the off-wheeler, his bridle-rein caught over the wheeler's hame. +The bronco is used to round up the mules in event they strays or declines +in the mornin' to come when called. Sech bein' the idee, the cayous is +allers kept strictly in camp. + +"'James' is my bronco's name; an' the evenin', followin' the vision of +that Tramperos gray mare I makes onusual shore 'that James stays with me. +Not that gray mares impresses James--him bein' a boss an' bosses havin' +religious convictions different from mules--or is doo to prove +temptations to him; but he might conceal other plans an' get strayed +prosecootin' of 'em to a finish. I ties James to the trail-waggon, an' +followin' bacon, biscuits, airtights an' sech, the same bein' my froogal +fare when on the trail, I rolls in onder the lead-waggon 'an' gives +myse'f up to sleep. + +"Exactly as I surmises, when I turns out at sun-up thar's never a mule in +sight. Every one of them idolaters goes poundin' back, as fast as ever +he can with hobbles on, to confess his sins an' say his pray'rs at the +shrine of that old gray mare. Even Jerry, whose cynicism should have +saved him, pulls his picket-pin with the rest an', takin' Tom along, goes +curvin' off. It ain't more than ten minutes, you can gamble! when James +an' me is on their trails. + +"One by one, I overtakes the team strung all along between my camp an' +Tramperos. Peter, the little lead mule, bein' plumb agile an' a sharp on +hobbles, gets cl'ar thar; an' I finds him devourin' the goddess gray mare +with heart an' soul an' eyes, an' singin' to himse'f the while in low, +satisfied tones. + +"As one after the other I passes the pilgrim mules I turns an' lifts +about a squar' inch of hide off each with the blacksnake whip I'm +carryin', by way of p'intin' out their heresies an arousin' in 'em a +eagerness to get back to their waggons an' a' upright, pure career. They +takes the chastisement humble an' dootiful, an' relinquishes the thought +of reachin' the goddess gray mare. + +"When I overtakes old Jerry I pours the leather into him speshul, an' the +way him an' his pard Tom goes scatterin' for camp refreshes me a heap. +An' yet after I rescoos Peter from the demoralisin' inflooences of the +gray mare, an' begins to pick up the other members of the team on the +journey back, I'm some deepressed when I don't see Tom or Jerry. Nor is +either of them mules by the waggons when I arrives. + +"It's onadulterated cussedness! Jerry, with no hobbles an' merely +draggin' a rope, can lope about free an' permiscus. Tom, with nothin' to +hamper him but his love for Jerry, is even more lightsome an' loose. +That Jerry mule, hatin' me an' allowin' to make me all the grief he can, +sneakingly leaves the trail some'ers after I turns him an' touches him up +with the lash. An' now Tom an' Jerry is shorely hid out an' lost a whole +lot. It's nothin' but Jerry's notion of revenge on me. + +"I camps two days where I'm at, an rounds up the region for the trooants. +I goes over it like a fine-tooth comb an' rides James to a show-down. +That bronco never is so long onder the saddle since he's foaled; I don't +reckon he knows before thar's so much hard work in the world as falls to +him when we goes ransackin' in quest of Tom an' Jerry. + +"It's no use; the ground is hard an' dry an' I can't even see their +hoof-marks. The country's so rollin', too, it's no trouble for 'em to +hide. At last I quits an' throws my hand in the diskyard. Tom an' Jerry +is shore departed an' I'm deeficient my two best mules. I hooks up the +others, an' seein' it's down hill an' a easy trail I makes Tascosa an' +refits. + +"I never crosses up on Tom an' Jerry in this yere life no more, but one +day I learns their fate. It's a month later on my next trip back, an' +I'm camped about a half day's drive of that same locoed plaza of +Tramperos. As I'm settin' in camp with the sun still plenty high--I'm +compilin' flapjacks at the time--I sees eight or ten ravens wheelin' an' +cirklin' over beyond a swell about three miles to the left. + +"'Tom an' Jerry for a bloo stack!' I says to myse'f; an' with that I +cinches the saddle onto James precip'tate. + +"Shore enough; I'm on the scene of the tragedy. Half way down a rocky +slope where thar ain't grass enough to cover the brown nakedness of the +ground lies the bones of Tom an' Jerry. This latter, who's that +obstinate an' resentful he won't go back to camp when I wallops him on +that gray mare mornin', allows he'll secrete himse'f an' Tom off to one +side an' worrit me up. While he's manooverin' about he gets the +half-inch rope he's draggin' tangled good an' fast in a mesquite bush. +It shorely holds him; that bush is old Jerry's last picket---his last +camp. Which he'd a mighty sight better played his hand out with me, even +if I does ring in a trace-chain on him at needed intervals. Jerry jest +nacherally starves to death for grass an' water. An' what's doubly hard +the lovin' Tom, troo to the last, starves with him. Thar's water within +two miles; but Tom declines it, stays an' starves with Jerry, an' the +ravens an' the coyotes picks their frames." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +The Influence of Faro Nell. + +"Thar's no doubt about it," observed the Old Cattleman, apropos of the +fairer, better sex--for woman was the gentle subject of our morning's +talk; "thar's no doubt about it, females is a refinin' an' ennoblin' +inflooence; you-all can hazard your chips on that an' pile 'em higher +than Cook's Peak! An' when Faro Nell prefers them requests, she's +ondoubted moved of feelin's of mercy. They shore does her credit, said +motives does, an' if she had asked Cherokee or Jack Moore, or even +Texas Thompson, things would have come off as effective an' a mighty +sight more discreet. But since he's standin' thar handy, Nell ups an' +recroots Dan Boggs on the side of hoomanity, an' tharupon Dan goes +trackin' in without doo reflection, an' sets the Mexicans examples +which, to give 'em a best deescription, is shore some bad. It ain't +Nell's fault, but Dan is a gent of sech onusual impulses that you-all +don't know wherever Dan will land none, once you goes pokin' up his +ha'r-hung sensibil'ties with su'gestions that is novel to his game. +Still, Nell can't he'p it; an' in view of what we knows to be the +female record since ever the world begins, I re-asserts onhesitatin' +that the effects of woman is good. She subdooes the reckless, +subjoogates the rebellious, sobers the friv'lous, burns the ground from +onder the indolent moccasins of that male she's roped up in holy +wedlock's bonds, an' p'ints the way to a higher, happier life. That's +whatever! an' this dramy of existence, as I once hears Colonel Sterett +say, would be a frost an' a failure an' bog plumb down at that, if you +was to cut out the leadin' lady roles an' ring up the curtain with +nothin' but bucks in the cast.' + +"Narrow an' contracted as you may deem said camp to be, Wolfville +itse'f offers plenty proof on this head. Thar's Dave Tutt: Whatever is +Dave, I'd like for to inquire, prior to Tucson Jennie runnin' her +wifely brand on to him an' redoocin' him to domesticity? No, thar's +nothin' so evil about Dave neither, an' yet he has his little ways. +For one thing, Dave's about as extemporaneous a prop'sition as ever +sets in a saddle, an' thar's times when you give Dave licker an' +convince him it's a o'casion for joobilation, an' you-all won't have to +leave no 'call' with the clerk to insure yourse'f of bein' out early in +the mornin.' Son, Dave would keep that camp settin' up all night. + +"But once Dave comes onder the mitigatin' spells of Tucson Jennie, +things is changed. Tucson Jennie knocks Dave's horns off doorin' the +first two weeks; he gets staid an' circumspect an' tharby plays better +poker an' grows more urbane. + +"Likewise does Benson Annie work mir'cles sim'lar in the conduct of +that maverick French which Enright an' the camp, to allay the burnin' +excitement that's rendin' the outfit on account of the Laundry War, +herds into her lovin' arms. Tenderfoot as he is, when we-all ups an' +marries him off that time, this French already shows symptoms of +becomin' one of the most abandoned sports in Arizona. Benson Annie +seizes him, purifies him, an' makes him white as snow. + +"An' thar's Missis Rucker;--as troo a lady as ever bakes a biscuit! +Even with the burdens of the O.K. Restauraw upon her she still finds +energy to improve old Rucker to that extent he ups an' rides off +towards the hills one mornin' an' never does come back no more. + +"'Doc,' he says to Doc Peets, while he's fillin' a canteen in the Red +Light prior to his start; 'I won't tell you what I'm aimin' to +accomplish, because the Stranglers might regyard it as their dooty to +round me up. But thar's something comin' to the public, Doc; so I +yereby leaves word that next week, or next month, or mebby later, if +doubts is expressed of my fate, I'm still flutterin' about the scenery +some'ers an' am a long ways short of dead. An' as I fades from sight, +Doc, I'll take a chance an' say that the clause in the Constitootion +which allows that all gents is free an' equal wasn't meant to incloode +no married man.' An' with these croode bluffs Rucker chases forth for +the Floridas. + +"No, the camp don't do nothin'; the word gets passed 'round that old +Rucker's gone prospectin' an' that he will recur in our midst whenever +thar's a reg'lar roll-call. As for Missis Rucker, personal, from all +we can jedge by lookin' on--for thar's shore none of us who's that +locoed we ups an' asks--I don't reckon now she ever notices that +Rucker's escaped. + +"Yere's how it is the time when Faro Nell, her heart bleedin' for the +sufferin's of dumb an' he'pless brutes, employs Dan Boggs in errants of +mercy an' Dan's efforts to do good gets ill-advised. Not that Dan is +easily brought so he regyards his play as erroneous; Enright has to +rebooke Dan outright in set terms an' assoome airs of severity before +ever Dan allows he entertains a doubt. + +"'Suppose I does retire that Greaser's hand from cirk'lation?' says +Dan, sort o' dispootatious with Enright an' Doc Peets, who's both +engaged in p'intin' out Dan's faults. 'Mexicans ain't got no more need +for hands than squinch owls has for hymn books. They won't work; they +never uses them members except for dealin' monte or clawin' a guitar. +I regyards a Mexican's hands that a-way, when considered as feachers in +his makeup, as sooperfluous.' + +"'Dan, you shore is the most perverse sport!' says Enright, makin' a +gesture of impatience an' at the same time refillin' his glass in hopes +of a ca'mer frame. 'This ain't so much a question of hands as it's a +question of taste. Nell's requests is right, an' you're bound to go +about the rescoo of said chicken as the victim of crooelties. Where +you-all falls down is on a system. The method you invokes is +impertinent. Don't you say so, Doc?' + +"'Which I shore does,' says Peets. 'Dan's conduct is absolootely +oncouth.' + +"Dan lays the basis for these strictures in the follow-in' fashion: +It's a _fieste_ with the Mexicans--one of the noomerous saint's days +they gives way to when every Greaser onbuckles an' devotes himse'f to +merriments--an' over in Chihuahua, as the Mexican part of the camp is +called, the sunburnt portion of Wolfville's pop'lation broadens into +quite a time. Thar's hoss races an' monte an' mescal an' pulque, +together with roode music sech as may be wrung from primitive +instruments like the guitar, the fiddle, an' tin cans half filled with +stones. + +"Faro Nell, who is only a child as you-all might say, an' ready to be +engaged an' entertained with childish things, goes trippin' over to +size up the gala scene. + +"Thar's a passel of young Mexicans who's Ridin' for the Chicken's Head. +This yere is a sport something like a Gander Pullin', same as we-all +engages in on Thanksgivin' days an' Christmas, back when I'm a boy in +Tennessee. You saveys a Gander Pullin'? Son, you don't mean sech +ignorance! Thar must have been mighty little sunshine in the life of a +yooth in the morose regions where you was raised for you-all never to +disport yourse'f, even as a spectator, at a Gander Pullin'! It +wouldn't surprise me none after that if you ups an' informs me you +never shakes a fetlock in that dance called money-musk. + +"To the end that you be eddicated,--for it's better late than +never,"--I'll pause concernin' Boggs an' the Mexicans long enough to +eloocidate of Gander Pullin's. + +"As I su'gests, we onbends in this pastime at sech epocks as Christmas +an' Thanksgivin.' I don't myse'f take actooal part in any Gander +Pullin's. Not that I'm too delicate, but I ain't got no hoss. Bein' a +pore yooth, I spends the mornin' of my c'reer on foot, an' as a hoss is +a necessary ingreedient to a Gander Pullin', I never does stand in +personal on the festival, but is redooced to become a envy-bitten +looker-on. + +"Gander Pullin's is conducted near a tavern or a still house so's the +assembled gents won't want the inspiration befittin' both the season +an' the scene, an' is commonly held onder the auspices of the +proprietor tharof. Thar's a track marked out in a cirkle like a little +racecourse for the hosses to gallop on. This course runs between two +poles pinned into the ground; or mebby it's two trees. Thar's a rope +stretched from pole to pole,--taut an' stiff she's stretched; an' the +gander who's the object of the meetin', with his neck an' head greased +a heap lavish, is hung from the rope by his two hind laigs. As the +gander hangs thar, what Colonel Sterett would style 'the cynosure of +every eye,' you'll notice that a gent by standin' high in the stirrups +can get a grip of the gander's head. + +"As many as determines to distinguish themse'fs in the amoosement +throws a two-bit piece into a hat. Most likely thar'll be forty +partic'pants. They then lines up, Injun file, an' goes caperin' round +the course, each in his place in the joyous procession. As a gent goes +onder the rope he grabs for the gander's head; an' that party who's +expert enough to bring it away in his hand, wins the hat full of +two-bit pieces yeretofore deescribed. + +"Which, of course, no gent succeeds the first dash outen the box, as a +gander's head is on some good and strong; an' many a saddle gets +emptied by virchoo of the back'ard yanks a party gets. But it's on +with the dance! They keeps whoopin' an' shoutin' an' ridin' the cirkle +an' grabbin' at the gander, each in his cheerful turn, ontil some +strong or lucky party sweeps away the prize, assoomes title to the +two-bit pieces, goes struttin' to the licker room an' buys nosepaint +for the pop'lace tharwith. + +"Shore, doorin' a contest a gent's got to keep ridin'; he's not allowed +to pause an' dally with the gander an' delay the game. To see to this +a brace of brawny sharps is stationed by each pole with clubs in their +willin' hands to reemonstrate with any hoss or gent who slows down or +stops as he goes onder the gander. + +"Thar you have it, son; a brief but lively picture of a Gander Pullin' +as pulled former in blithe old Tennessee. An' you'll allow, if you +sets down to a ca'm, onja'ndiced study of the sport, that a half hour +of reasonable thrill might be expected to flow from it. Gander +Pullin's is popular a lot when I'm a yearlin'; I knows that for shore; +though in a age which grows effete it's mighty likely if we-all goes +back thar now, we'd find it fallen into disuse as a reelaxation. + +"In Ridin' for the Chicken's Head, a Mexican don't hang up his prey +none same as we-all does at Gander Pullin's. He buries it in the +ground to sech degrees that nothin' but the head an' neck protroodes. +An' as the Mexicans goes flashin' by on their broncos, each in turn +swings down an' makes a reach for the chicken's head. The experiment +calls for a shore-enough rider; as when a party is over on one side +that a-way, an' nothin' to hold by but a left hand on the saddlehorn +an' a left spur caught in the cantle, any little old pull will fetch +him out on his head. + +"This day when Faro Nell comes bulgin' up to amoose her young an' idle +cur'osity with the gayeties of Chihuahua, the Ridin' for the Chicken's +Head is about to commence. Which they're jest plantin' the chicken. +At first Nell don't savey, as she ain't posted deep on Mexican +pastimes. But Nell is plenty quick mental; as, actin' look-out for +Cherokee's bank, she's bound to be. Wherefore Nell don't study the +preeliminaries long before she gets onto the roodiments of some idee +concernin' the jocund plans of the Greasers. + +"At last the chicken is buried, an' thar's nothin' in sight but its +anxious head. Except that it can turn an' twist its neck some, it's +fixed in the ground as firm an' solid as the stumps of a mesquite bush. + +"The first Greaser--he's a gaudy party with more colours than you could +count in any rainbow--is organisin' for a rush. He's pickin' up his +reins an' pushin' his moccasins deep into his tappedaries, when, as he +gives his cayouse the spur, the beauty of Ridin' for the Chicken's Head +bursts full on Faro Nell. Comin' on her onexpected, Nell don't see no +pleasure in it. It don't present the attractions which so alloores the +heart of a Greaser. Without pausin' to think, an' feelin' shocked over +the fate that's ridin' down on the buried chicken, Nell grips her +little paws convulsive an' snaps her teeth. It's then her eye catches +Dan Boggs, who's contemplatin' details an' awaitin' the finish with +vivid interest. + +"'Oh, Dan!' says Nell, grabbin' Dan's arm, 'I don't want that chicken +hurt none! Can't you-all make 'em stop?' + +"'Shore!' says Dan, prompt to Nell's cry. 'I preevails on 'em to cease +easy.' + +"As Dan says this, that radiant cavalier is sweepin' upon the pore +chicken like the breath of destiny. He's bendin' from the saddle to +make a swoop as Dan speaks. Thar ain't a moment to lose an' Dan's hand +goes to his gun. + +"'Watch me stop him,' says Dan; an' as he does, his bullet makes rags +of the Mexican's hand not a inch from the chicken's head. + +"For what time you-all might need to slop out a drink, the onlookin' +Mexicans stands still. Then the stoopefyin' impressions made by Dan's +pistol practice wears off an' a howl goes up like a hundred wolves. At +this Dan gets his number-two gun to b'ar, an' with one in each hand, +confronts the tan-coloured multitoode. + +"'That's shore a nice shot, Nell!' says Dan over his shoulder, ropin' +for the congratoolations he thinks is comin.' + +"But Nell don't hear him; she's one hundred yards away an' streakin' it +for the Red Light like a shootin' star. She tumbles in on us with the +brake off like a stage-coach downhill. + +"'Dan's treed Chihuahua!' gasps Nell, as she heads straight for +Cherokee; 'you-all better rustle over thar plumb soon!' + +"Cherokee jumps an' grabs his hardware where they're layin' onder the +table. Bein' daylight an' no game goin', an' the day some warm +besides, he ain't been wearin' 'em, bein' as you-all might say in +negligee. Cherokee buckles on his belts in a second an' starts; the +rest of us, however, since we're more ackerately garbed, don't lose no +time an' is already half way to Dan. + +"It ain't a two-minute run an' we arrives in time. Thar's no more +blood, though thar might have been, for we finds Dan frontin' up to +full two hundred Greasers, their numbers increasin' and excitement +runnin' a heap high. We cuts in between Dan an' Mexican public opinion +and extricates that over-vol'tile sport. + +"But Dan won't return ontil he exhoomes the chicken, which is still +bobbin' an' twistin' its onharmed head where the Mexican buries it. +Dan digs it up an' takes it by the laigs; Enright meanwhile cussin' him +out, fervent an' nervous, for he fears some locoed Greaser will cut +loose every moment an' mebby crease a gent, an' so leave it incumbent +on the rest of us to desolate Chihuahua. + +"'It's for Nell,' expostulates Dan, replyin' to Enright's criticisms. +'I knows she wants it by the way she grabs my coat that time. +Moreover, from the tones she speaks in, I reckons she wants it alive. +Also, I don't discern no excoose for this toomult neither; which +you-all is shore the most peevish bunch, Enright, an' that's whatever!' + +"'Peevish or no,' retorts Enright, 'as a jedge of warjigs I figgers +that we gets here jest in time. Thar you be, up ag'inst the entire +tribe, an' each one with a gun. It's one of the deefects of a Colt's +six-shooter that it hits as hard an' shoots as troo for a Injun or a +Greaser as it does for folks. Talk about us bein' peevish! what do +you-all reckon would have been results if we hadn't cut in on the +_baile_ at the time we does?' + +"'Nothin',' says Dan, with tones of soopreme vanity, at the same time +dustin' the dirt off Nell's chicken, 'nothing except I'd hung crape on +half the dobies in Chihuahua.' + +"About two hours after, when things ag'in simmers to the usual, an' +Nell is makin' her chicken a coop out to the r'ar of the Red Light, +Enright gives a half laugh. + +"'Dan,' says Enright, 'when I reflects on the hole we drug you out of, +an' the way you-all gets in, you reminds me of that Thomas Benton dog I +owns when I'm a yoothful child on the Cumberland. Which Thomas Benton +that a-way is a mighty industrious dog an' would turn over a +quarter-section of land any afternoon diggin' out a ground-hawg. But +thar's this drawback to Thomas Benton which impairs his market valyoo. +Some folks used to regyard it as a foible; but it's worse, it's a +deefect. As I remarks, this Thomas Benton dog would throw his whole +soul into the work, an' dig for a groundhawg like he ain't got another +dollar. But thar's this pecooliarity: After that Thomas Benton dog has +done dug out the ground-hawg for a couple of hours, you-all is forced +to get a spade an' dig out that Thomas Benton dog. He's dead now these +yere forty years, but if he's livin' I'd shore change his name an' +rebrand him "Dan'l Boggs."'" + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +The Ghost of the Bar-B-8. + +"Spectres? Never! I refooses 'em my beliefs utter"; and with these +emphatic words the Old Cattleman tasted his liquor thoughtfully on his +tongue. The experiment was not satisfactory; and he despatched his +dark retainer Tom for lemons and sugar. "An' you-all might better tote +along some hot water, too;" he commanded. "This nosepaint feels raw +an' over-fervid; a leetle dilootion won't injure it none." + +"But about ghosts?" I persisted. + +"Ghosts?" he retorted. "I never does hear of but one; that's a +apparition which enlists the attentions of Peets and Old Man Enright a +lot. It's a spectre that takes to ha'ntin' about one of Enright's +Bar-B-8 sign-camps, an' scarin' up the cattle an' drivin' 'em over a +precipice, an' all to Enright's disaster an' loss. Nacherally, Enright +don't like this spectral play; an' him an' Peets lays for the wraith +with rifles, busts its knee some, an' Peets ampytates its laig. Then +they throws it loose; allowin' that now it's only got one lai'g, the +visitations will mighty likely cease. Moreover Enright regyards +ampytation that a-way, as punishment enough. Which I should shore +allow the same myse'f! + +"It ain't much of a tale. It turns out like all sperit stories; when +you approaches plumb close an' jumps sideways at 'em an' seizes 'em by +the antlers, the soopernacheral elements sort o' bogs down. + +"It's over mebby fifty miles to the southeast of Wolfville, some'ers in +the fringes of the Tres Hermanas that thar's a sign-camp of Enright's +brand. Thar's a couple of Enright's riders holdin' down this corner of +the Bar-B-8 game, an' one evenin' both of 'em comes squanderin' +in,--ponies a-foam an' faces pale as milk,--an' puts it up they don't +return to that camp no more. + +"'Because she's ha'nted,' says one; 'Jim an' me both encounters this +yere banshee an' it's got fire eyes. Also, itse'f and pony is +constructed of bloo flames. You can gamble! I don't want none of it +in mine; an' that's whatever!' + +"Any gent can see that these yooths is mighty scared. Enright elicits +their yarn only after pourin' about a quart of nosepaint into 'em. + +"It looks like on two several o'casions that a handful of cattle gets +run over a steep bluff from the _mesa_ above. The fall is some sixty +feet in the cl'ar, an' when them devoted cattle strikes the bottom it's +plenty easy to guess they're sech no longer, an' thar's nothin' left of +'em but beef. These beef drives happens each time in the night; an' +the cattle must have been stampeded complete to make the trip. Cattle, +that a-way, ain't goin' to go chargin' over a high bluff none onless +their reason is onhinged. No, the coyotes an' the mountain lions don't +do it; they never chases cattle, holdin' 'em in fear an' tremblin.' +These mountain lions prounces down on colts like a mink on a settin' +hen, but never calves or cattle. + +"It's after the second beef killin' when the two riders allows they'll +do some night herdin' themse'fs an' see if they solves these +pheenomenons that's cuttin' into the Bar-B-8. + +"'An' it's mebby second drink time after midnight,' gasps the +cow-puncher who's relatin' the adventures, 'an' me an' Jim is +experimentin' along the aige of the _mesa_, when of a suddent thar +comes two steers, heads down, tails up, locoed absoloote they be; an' +flashin' about in the r'ar of 'em rides this flamin' cow-sperit on its +flamin' cayouse. Shore! he heads 'em over the cliff; I hears 'em hit +the bottom of the canyon jest as I falls off my bronco in a fit. As +soon as ever I comes to an' can scramble into that Texas saddle ag'in, +me an' Jim hits the high places in the scenery, in a fervid way, an' +yere we-all be! An' you hear me, gents, I don't go back to that +Bar-B-8 camp no more. I ain't ridin' herd on apparitions; an' whenever +ghosts takes to romancin' about in the cow business, that lets me out.' + +"'I reckons,' says Enright, wrinklin' up his brows, 'I'll take a look +into this racket myse'f.' + +"'An' if you-all don't mind none, Enright,' says Peets, 'I'll get my +chips in with yours. Thar's been no one shot for a month in either Red +Dog or Wolfville an' I'm reedic'lous free of patients. An' if the +boys'll promise to hold themse'fs an' their guns in abeyance for a week +or so, an' not go framin' up excooses for my presence abrupt, I figgers +that a few days idlin' about the ranges, an' mebby a riot or two +roundin' up this cow-demon, will expand me an' do me good.' + +"'You're lookin' for trouble, Doc,' says Colonel Sterett, kind o' +laughin' at Peets. 'You reminds me of a onhappy sport I encounters +long ago in Looeyville.' + +"'An' wherein does this Bloo Grass party resemble me?' asks Peets. + +"'It's one evenin',' says Colonel Sterett, 'an' a passel of us is +settin' about in the Gait House bar, toyin' with our beverages. Thar's +a smooth, good-lookin' stranger who's camped at a table near. Final, +he yawns like he's shore weary of life an' looks at us sharp an' +cur'ous. Then he speaks up gen'ral as though he's addressin' the air. +"This is a mighty dull town!" he says. "Which I've been yere a +fortnight an' I ain't had no fight as yet." An' he continyoos to look +us over plenty mournful. + +"'"You-all needn't gaze on us that a-way," says a gent named Granger; +"you can set down a stack on it, you ain't goin' to pull on no war with +none of us." + +"'"Shore, no!" says the onhappy stranger. Then he goes on apol'getic; +"Gents, I'm onfort'nately constitootcd. Onless I has trouble at +reasonable intervals it preys on me. I've been yere in your town two +weeks an' so far ain't seen the sign. Gents, it's beginnin' to tell; +an' if any of you-all could direct me where I might get action it would +be kindly took." + +"'"If you're honin' for a muss," says Granger, "all you has to do is go +a couple of blocks to the east, an' then five to the no'th, an' thar on +the corner you'll note a mighty prosperous s'loon. You caper in by the +side door; it says FAMILY ENTRANCE over this yere portal. Sa'nter up +to the bar, call for licker, drink it; an' then you remark to the +barkeep, casooal like, that you're thar to maintain that any outcast +who'll sell sech whiskey ain't fit to drink with a nigger or eat with a +dog. That's all; that barkeep'll relieve you of the load that's +burdenin' your nerves in about thirty seconds. You'll be the happiest +sport in Looeyville when he gets through." + +"'"But can't you come an' p'int out the place," coaxes the onhappy +stranger of Granger. He's all wropped up in what Granger tells him. +"I don't know my way about good, an' from your deescriptions I shorely +wouldn't miss visitin' that resort for gold an' precious stones. Come +an' show me, pard; I'll take you thar in a kerriage." + +"'At that Granger consents to guide the onhappy stranger. They drives +over an' Granger stops the outfit, mebby she's fifty yards from the +door. He p'ints it out to the onhappy stranger sport. + +"'Come with me," says the onhappy stranger, as he gets outen the +kerriage. "Come on; you-all don't have to fight none. I jest wants +you to watch me. Which I'm the dandiest warrior for the whole length +of the Ohio!" + +"'But Granger is firm that he won't; he's not inquisitive, he says, an' +will stay planted right thar on the r'ar seat an' await deevelopments. +With that, the onhappy stranger sport goes sorrowfully for'ard alone, +an' gets into the gin-mill by the said FAMILY ENTRANCE. Granger' sets +thar with his head out an' y'ears cocked lookin' an' listenin'. + +"'Everything's plenty quiet for a minute. Then slam! bang! bing! +crash! the most flagrant hubbub breaks forth! It sounds like that +store's comin' down. The racket rages an' grows worse. Thar's a +smashin' of glass. The lights goes out, while customers comes boundin' +an' skippin' forth from the FAMILY ENTRANCE like frightened fawns. At +last the uproars dies down ontil they subsides complete. + +"'Granger is beginnin' to upbraid himse'f for not gettin the onhappy +stranger's address, so's he could ship home the remainder. In the +midst of Granger's se'f-accoosations, the lights in the gin-mill begins +to burn ag'in, one by one. After awhile, she's reilloominated an' +ablaze with old-time glory. It's then the FAMILY ENTRANCE opens an' +the onhappy stranger sport emerges onto the sidewalk. He's in his +shirtsleeves, an' a satisfied smile wreathes his face. He shore looks +plumb content! + +"'"Get out of the kerriage an' come in, pard," he shouts to Granger. +"Come on in a whole lot! I'd journey down thar an' get you, but I +can't leave; I'm tendin' bar!"' + +"'You're shore right, Colonel,' says Peets, when Colonel Sterett ends +the anecdote, 'the feelin' of that onhappy stranger sport is parallel +to mine. Ghosts is new to me; an' I'm goin' pirootin' off with Enright +on this demon hunt an' see if I can't fetch up in the midst of a trifle +of nerve-coolin' excitement.' + +"The ghost tales of the stampeded cow-punchers excites Dan Boggs a +heap. After Enright an' Peets has organised an' gone p'inting out for +the ha'nted Bar-B-8 sign-camp to investigate the spook, Dan can't talk +of nothin' else. + +"'Them's mighty dead game gents, Enright an' Doc Peets is!' says Dan. +'I wouldn't go searchin' for no sperits more'n I'd write letters to +rattlesnakes! I draws the line at intimacies with fiends.' + +"'But mebby this yere is a angel,' says Faro Nell, from her stool +alongside of Cherokee Hall. + +"'Not criticisin' you none, Nell,' says Dan, 'Cherokee himse'f will +tell you sech surmises is reedic'lous. No angel is goin' to visit +Arizona for obvious reasons. An' ag'in, no angel's doo to go +skally-hootin' about after steers an' stampeedin' 'em over brinks. +It's ag'in reason; you bet! That blazin' wraith, that a-way, is a +shore-enough demon! An' as for me, personal, I wouldn't cut his trail +for a bunch of ponies! + +"'Be you-all scared of ghosts, Dan?' asks Faro Nell. + +"'Be I scared of ghosts?' says Dan. 'Which I wish, I could see a ghost +an' show you! I don't want to brag none, Nellie, but I'll gamble four +for one, an' go as far as you likes, that if you was to up an' show me +a ghost right now, I wouldn't stop runnin' for a month. But what +appals me partic'lar,' goes on Dan, 'about Peets an' Enright, is they +takes their guns. Now a ghost waxes onusual indignant if you takes to +shootin' him up with guns. No, it don't hurt him; but he regyards sech +demonstrations as insults. It's like my old pap says that time about +the Yankees. My old pap is a colonel with Gen'ral Price, an' on this +evenin' is engaged in leadin' one of the most intrepid retreats of the +war. As he's prancin' along at the head of his men where a great +commander belongs, he's shore scandalised by hearin' his r'ar gyard +firin' on the Yanks. So he rides back, my old pap does, an' he says: +"Yere you-all eediots! Whatever do you mean by shootin' at them +Yankees? Don't you know it only makes 'em madder?" An' that,' +concloods Dan, 'is how I feels about spectres. I wouldn't go lammin' +loose at 'em with no guns; it only makes 'em madder.' + +"It's the next day, an' Peets an' Enright is organised in the ha'nted +sign-camp of the Bar-B-8. Also, they've been lookin' round. By ridin' +along onder the face of the precipice, they comes, one after t'other, +on what little is left of the dead steers. What strikes 'em as a heap +pecooliar is that thar's no bones or horns. Two or three of the hoofs +is kickin' about, an' Enright picks up one the coyotes overlooks. It +shows it's been cut off at the fetlock j'int by a knife. + +"'This spectre,' says Enright, passin' the hoof to Peets, 'packs a +bowie; an' he likewise butchers his prey. Also, ondoubted, he freights +the meat off some'ers to his camp, which is why we don't notice no big +bones layin' 'round loose.' Then Enright scans the grass mighty +scroopulous; an' shore enough! thar's plenty of pony tracks printed +into the soil. 'That don't look so soopernacheral neither,' says +Enright, p'intin' to the hoof-prints. + +"'Them's shorely made by a flesh an' blood pony,' says Peets. 'An' +from their goin' some deep into the ground, I dedooces that said +cayouse is loaded down with what weight of beef an' man it can stagger +onder.' + +"That evenin' over their grub Enright an' Peets discusses the business. +Thar's a jimcrow Mexican plaza not three miles off in the hills. Both +of 'em is aware of this hamlet, an' Peets, partic'lar, is well +acquainted with a old Mexican sharp who lives thar--he's a kind o' +schoolmaster among 'em--who's mighty cunnin' an' learned. His name is +Jose Miguel. + +"'An' I'm beginnin' to figger,' says Peets, 'that this ghostly rider is +the foxy little Jose Miguel. Which I've frequent talked with him; an' +he saveys enough about drugs an' chemicals to paint up with phosphorus +an' go surgin' about an' stampedin' cattle over bluffs. It's a mighty +good idee from his standp'int. He can argue that the cattle kills +themse'fs--sort o' commits sooicide inadvertent--an' if we-all trades +up on him with the beef, he insists on his innocence, an' puts it up +that his cuttin' in on the play after said cattle done slays themse'fs +injures nobody but coyotes.' + +"'Doc,' coincides Enright, after roominatin' in silence, 'Doc, the +longer I ponders, the more them theories seems sagacious. That +enterprisin' Greaser is jest about killin' my beef an' sellin' it to +the entire plaza. Not only does this ghost play opp'rate to stampede +the cattle an' set 'em runnin' cimmaron an' locoed so they'll chase +over the cliffs to their ends, but it serves to scare my cow-punchers +off the range, which last, ondoubted, this Miguel looks on as a +deesideratum. However, it's goin' to be good an' dark to-night, an' if +we-all has half luck I reckons that we fixes him.' + +"It's full two hours after midnight an' while thar's stars overhead +thar's no moon; along the top of the _mesa_ it's as dark as the inside +of a jug. Peets an' Enright is Injunin' about on the prowl for the +ghost. They don't much reckon it'll be abroad, as mebby the plaza has +beef enough. + +"'However, by to-morry night,' says Enright in a whisper, 'or at the +worst, by the night after, we're shore to meet up with this marauder.' + +"'Hesh!' whispers Peets, at the same time stoppin' Enright with his +hand, 'he's out to-night!' + +"An' thar for shore is something like a dim bloo light movin' across +the plains. Now an' then, two brighter lights shows in spots like the +blazes of candles; them's the fire eyes the locoed cowboys tells of. +Whatever it is, whether spook or Greaser, it's quarterin' the ground +like one of these huntin' dogs. Its gait is a slow canter. + +"'He's on the scout,' says Enright,' 'tryin' to start a steer or two in +the dark; but he ain't located none yet.' + +"Enright an' Peets slides to the ground an' hobbles their broncos. +They don't aim to have 'em go swarmin' over no bluffs in any blindness +of a first surprise. When the ponies is safe, they bends low an' +begins makin' up towards the ground on which this bloo-shimmerin' +shadow is ha'ntin' about. Things comes their way; they has luck. +They've done crope about forty rods when the ghost heads for 'em. They +can easy tell he's comin', for the fire eyes shows all the time an' not +by fits an' starts as former. As the bloo shimmer draws nearer they +makes out the vague shadows of a man on a hoss. Son, she's shore +plenty ghostly as a vision, an' Enright allows later, it's no marvel +the punchers vamoses sech scenes. + +"'How about it,' whispers Peets; 'shall I do the shootin'?' + +"'Which your eyes is younger,' says Enright. 'You cut loose; an' I'll +stand by to back the play. Only aim plenty low. You can't he'p +over-shootin' in the dark. Hold as low as his stirrup.' + +"Peets pulls himse'f up straight as a saplin' an' runs his left hand +along the bar'l as far as his arm'll reach. An' he hangs long on the +aim as shootin' in the dark ain't no cinch. If this ghost is a bright +ghost it would be easy. But he ain't; he's bloo an' dim like washed +out moonlight, or when it's jest gettin' to be dawn. Enright's twenty +yards to one side so as to free himse'f of Peet's smoke in case he has +to make a second shot. + +"But Peets calls the turn. With the crack of that Sharp's of his, the +ghost sets up sech a screech it proves he ain't white an' also that +he'll live through the evenin's events. As the spectre yelps, the bloo +cayouse goes over on its head an' neck an' then falls dead on its side. +The lead which only smashes the spectre's knee to splinters goes plumb +through the pony's heart. + +"As Peets foresees, the ghost ain't none other than the wise little +Jose Miguel, schoolmaster, who's up on drugs an' chemicals. The bloo +glimmer is phosphorus; an' the fire eyes is two of these little old +lamps like miners packs in their caps. + +"Enright an' Peets strolls up; this Miguel is groanin' an' mournin' an' +cryin' 'Marie, Madre de Dios!' When he sees who downs him, he drags +himse'f to Enright an' begs a heap abject for his life. With that, +Enright silently lets down the hammer of his rifle. + +"Peets when the sun comes up enjoys himse'f speshul with the +opp'ration. Peets is fond of ampytations, that a-way, and he lops off +said limb with zest an' gusto. + +"'I shore deplores, Jose,' says Peets, 'to go shortenin' up a fellow +scientist like this. But thar's no he'pin' it; fate has so decreed. +Also, as some comfort to your soul, I'll explain to Sam Enright how you +won't ride much when I gets you fairly trimmed. Leastwise, after I'm +done prunin' you, thar won't be nothin' but these yere woman's saddles +that you'll fit, an' no gent, be he white or be he Greaser, can work +cattle from a side-saddle.' An' Peets, hummin' a roundelay, cuts +merrily into the wounded member." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +Tucson Jennie's Correction. + +"Doc Peets, son," said the Old Cattleman, while his face wore the look of +decent gravity it ever donned when that man of medicine was named, "Doc +Peets has his several uses. Aside from him bein' a profound sharp on +drugs, an' partic'lar cowboy drugs, he's plenty learned in a gen'ral way, +an' knows where every kyard lays in nacher's deck, from them star-flecked +heavens above to the earth beneath, an'--as Scripter puts it--to the +'waters onder the earth.' It's a good scheme to have a brace of highly +eddicated gents, same as Colonel Sterett an' Doc Peets, sort o' idlin' +'round your camp. Thar's times when a scientist, or say, a lit'rary +sport comes bluffin' into Wolfville; an' sech folks is a mighty sight too +deep for Boggs an' me an' Tutt. If we're left plumb alone with a band of +them book-read shorthorns like I deescribes, you-all sees yourse'f, +they're bound to go spraddlin' East ag'in, an' report how darkened +Wolfville is. But not after they locks horns with Doc Peets or Colonel +Sterett. Wherefore, whenever the camp's invaded by any over-enlightened +people who's gone too far in schools for the rest of us to break even +with, we ups an' plays Doc Peets or Colonel Sterett onto 'em; an' the way +either of them gents would turn in an' tangle said visitors up mental +don't bother 'em a bit. That's straight; Peets an' the Colonel is our +refooge; they're our protectors; an' many a time an' oft, have I beheld +'em lay for some vain-glorious savant who's got a notion the Southwest, +that a-way, is a region of savagery where the folks can't even read an' +write none, an' they'd rope, throw, an' hawgtie him--verbal, I means--an' +brand his mem'ry with the red-hot fact that he's wrong an' been wadin' in +error up to the saddle-girths touchin' the intellectooal attainments of +good old Arizona. Shore,--Doc Peets has other uses than drugs, an' he +discharges 'em. + +"Now that I thinks of the matter, it's Doc Peets who restores Dave Tutt +to full standin' with Tucson Jennie, the time she begins to neglect Dave. +You see, the trouble is this a-way: It really starts--leastwise I allers +so believes--in Dave's beginnin' wrong with Tucson Jennie. Troo, as I +confesses to you frequent yeretofore, I ain't married none myse'f; still, +I've been livin' a likely number of years, an' has nacherally witnessed a +whole lot touchin' other gents an' their wives; an' sech experiences is +bound to breed concloosions. An' while I may be wrong, for these yere +views is nothin' more than a passel of ontested theeries with me, it's my +beliefs that thar's two attitoodes, speakin' gen'ral, which a gent +assoomes toward his bride. Either he deals with her on what we-all will +call the buck-squaw system, or he turns the game about complete, an' +organises his play on the gentleman-lady system. In the latter, the gent +waits on his wife; he comes an' he goes, steps high or soft, exactly as +she commands. She gives the orders; an' he rides a pony to death +execootin' 'em, an' no reemonstrances nor queries. That wife is range +an' round-up boss for her outfit. + +"But the buck-squaw system is after all more hooman an' satisfactory. +It's opposite to the other. The gent is reesponsible for beef on the +hook an' flour in the bar'l. He's got to provide the blankets, make good +ag'in the household's hunger, an' see to it thar's allers wood an' water +within easy throw of every camp he pitches. Beyond that, however, the +gent who's playin' the buck-squaw system don't wander. When he's in +camp, he distinguishes himse'f by doin' nothin'. He wrops himse'f in his +blankets, camps down by the fire, while his wife rustles his chuck an' +fills his pipe for him. At first glance, this yere buck-squaw system +might strike a neeophyte as a mighty brootal scheme. Jest the same, +it'll eemerge winner twenty times to the gentleman-lady system's once. +The women folks like it. Which they'll pretend they prefers the +gentleman-lady system, where they sets still an' the gent attends on 'em; +but don't you credit it, none whatever. It's the good old patriarchal, +buck-squaw idee, where the gent does nothin' an' the lady goes prancin' +about like the ministerin' angel which she is, that tickles her to death. +I states ag'in, that it's my notion, Dave who begins with Tucson +Jennie--they bein' man an' wife--on the gentleman-lady system, tharby +hatches cold neglect for himse'f. An' if it ain't for the smooth savey +of Doc Peets, thar's no sport who could foretell the disastrous end. +Dave, himse'f thinks he'd have had eventool to resign his p'sition as +Jennie's husband an' quit. + +"Which I've onfolded to you prior of Jennie's gettin' jealous of Dave +touchin' that English towerist female; but this yere last trouble ain't +no likeness nor kin to that. Them gusts of jealousy don't do no harm +nohow; nor last the day. They're like thunder showers; brief an' black +enough, but soon over an' leavin' the world brighter. + +"This last attitoode of Jennie towards Dave is one of abandonment an' +onthinkin' indifference that a-way. It begins hard on the fetlocks of +that interestin' event, thrillin' to every proud Wolfville heart, the +birth of Dave's only infant son, Enright Peets Tutt. Which I never does +cross up with no one who deems more of her progeny than Jennie does of +the yoothful Enright Peets. A cow's solicitoode concernin' her calf is +chill regyard compared tharwith. Jennie hangs over Enright Peets like +some dew-jewelled hollyhock over a gyarden fence; you'd think he's a +roast apple; an' I don't reckon now, followin' that child's advent, she +ever sees another thing in Arizona but jest Enright Peets. He's the +whole check-rack--the one bet that wins on the layout of the +possible--an' Jennie proceeds to conduct herse'f accordin'. It's a good +thing mebby for Enright Peets; I won't set camped yere an' say it ain't; +but it's mighty hard on Dave. + +"Jennie not only neglects Dave, she turns herse'f loose frequent an' +assails him. If he shows up in his wigwam walkin' some emphatic, +Jennie'll be down on him like a fallin' star an' accoose him of wakin' +Enright Peets. + +"'An' if you-all wakes him,' says Jennie to Dave, sort o' domineerin' at +him with her forefinger, 'he'll be sick; an' if he gets sick, he'll die; +an' if he dies, you'll be a murderer--the heartless deestroyer of your +own he'pless offspring,--which awful deed I sometimes thinks you're +p'intin' out to pull off.' An' then Jennie would put her apron over her +head an' shed tears a heap; while Dave--all harrowed up an' +onstrung--would come stampedin' down to the Red Light an' get consolation +from Black Jack by the quart. + +"That's the idee, son; it's impossible to go into painful details, 'cause +I ain't in Dave's or Jennie's confidence enough to round 'em up; but you +onderstands what I means. Jennie's forever hectorin' an' pesterin' Dave +about Enright Peets; an' beyond that she don't pay no more heed, an' +don't have him no more on her mind, than if he's one of these yere little +jimcrow ground-owls you-all sees inhabitin' about dissoloote an' +permiscus with prairie-dogs. What's the result? Dave's sperits begins +to sink; he takes to droopin' about listless an' onregyardful; an' he's +that low an' onhappy his nosepaint don't bring him no more of comfort +than if he's a graven image. Why, it's the saddest thing I ever sees in +Wolfville! + +"We-all observes how Dave's dwindlin' an' pinin' an' most of us has a +foggy onderstandin' of the trooth. But what can we do? If thar's ever a +aggregation of sports who's powerless, utter, to come to the rescoo of a +comrade in a hole, it's Enright an' Moore an' Boggs an' Texas Thompson +an' Cherokee an' me, doorin' them days when that neglect of Tucson +Jennie's is makin' pore Dave's burdens more'n he can b'ar. Shore, we +consults; but that don't come to nothin' ontil the o'casion when Doc +Peets takes the tangle in ser'ous hand. + +"Thar's a day dawns when Missis Rucker gets exasperated over Dave's +ill-yoosage. Missis Rucker is a sperited person an' she canters over an' +onloads her opinions on Tucson Jennie. Commonly, these yere ladies can't +think too much of one another; but on this one division of the house of +Tutt, Missis Rucker goes out on Dave's angle of the game. An' you-all +should have seen the terror it inspires when Missis Rucker declar's her +hostile intentions. + +"It's in the O.K. restauraw, when Missis Rucker, who's feedin' us our +mornin' flap-jacks an' salt hoss as usual, turns to Old Man Enright, an' +says: + +"'As soon as ever I've got the last drunkard fed an' outen the house, I'm +goin' to put on my shaker an' go an' tell that Tucson Jennie Tutt what's +on my mind. I shore never sees a woman change more than Jennie since the +days when she cooks for me in this yere very restauraw an' lays plans an' +plots to lure Dave into wedlock. I will say that Jennie, nacheral, is a +good wife; but the fashion, wherein she tromples on Dave an' his rights +is a disgrace to her sex, an' I'm goin' to deevote a hour this mornin' to +callin' Jennie's attention tharunto.' + +"'Missis Rucker is a mighty intrepid lady,' says Enright, when we goes +over to the New York store followin' feed. 'I'd no more embrace them +chances she's out to tackle than I'd go dallyin' about a wronged grizzly. +But jest the same, I'd give a stack of reds if Peets is here! When did +he say he'd be back from Tucson?' + +"'The Doc don't allow he'll come trailin' in ag'in,' says Dan Boggs, +'ontil day after to-morry. Which this female dooel will be plumb over by +then, an' most likely the camp a wrack.' + +"While we-all stands thar gazin' on each other, enable to su'gest +anything to meet the emergency, Texas Thompson's pony is brought up from +the corral, saddled an' bridled, an' ready for the trail. + +"'Well, gents,' says Texas, when he sees his hoss is come, 'I reckons +I'll say _adios_ an' pull my freight. I'll be back in a week.' + +"'Wherever be you p'intin' for?' asks Cherokee Hall. 'Ain't this goin' +of yours some sudden?' + +"'It is a trifle hasty,' says Texas; 'but do you cimmarons think I'm +goin' to linger yere after Missis Rucker gives notice she's preparin' to +burn the ground around Tucson Jennie about Dave? Gents, I don't pack the +nerve! I ain't lived three years with my former wife who gets that +Laredo divorce I once or twice adverts to, an' not know enough not to get +caught out on no sech limb as this. No, sir; I sees enough of woman an' +her ways to teach me that now ain't no time to be standin' about +irresoloote an' ondecided, an' I'm goin' to dig out for Tucson, you bet, +ontil this uprisin' subsides.' + +"This example of Texas scares us up a whole lot; the fact is, it +stampedes us; an' without a further word of argyment, the whole band +makes a break for the corral, throws saddles onto the swiftest ponies, +an' in two minutes we're lost in that cloud of alkali dust we kicks up +down the trail toward the no'th. + +"'Which I won't say that this exodus is necessary,' observes Enright, +when ten miles out we slows up to a road gait to breathe our ponies, 'but +I thinks on the whole it's safer. Besides, I oughter go over to Tucson +anyway on business.' + +"The rest of us don't make no remarks nor excooses; but every gent is +feelin' like a great personal peril has blown by. + +"The next day, we rounds up Doc Peets, an' he encourages us so that we +concloods to return an' make a size-up of results. + +"'I shore hopes we finds Dave safe.' says Dan Boggs. + +"'It's even money,' says Jack Moore, 'that Dave pulls through. Dave's a +mighty wary sport when worst comes to worst; an' as game as redhead ants.' + +"'That's all right about Dave bein' game,' retorts Dan, 'but this yere's +a time when Dave ain't got no show. I says ag'in, I trust he retains +decision of character sufficient to go hide out doorin' the storm. It +ain't no credit to us that we forgets to bring him along.' + +"'No; thar wasn't no harm done,' says Faro Nell, who reports progress to +us after we rounds up in the Red Light followin' our return. Nell's a +brave girl an' stands a pat hand when the rest of us vamosed that time. +'Thar ain't no real trouble. Missis Rucker merely sets fire to Jennie +about the way she maltreats Dave; an' she says Jennie's drivin' him +locoed, an' no wonder. Also, she lets on she don't see whatever Dave +marries Jennie for anyhow! + +"'At that, Jennie comes back an' reminds Missis Rucker how she herse'f +done treats Mister Rucker that turrible he goes cavortin' off an' seeks +safety among the Apaches. An' so they keeps on slingin' it back'ards an' +for'ards for mebby two hours, an' me ha'ntin' about to chunk in a word. +Then, final, they cries an' makes up; an' then they both concedes that +one way an' another they're the best two people each other ever sees. At +this juncture,' concloods Nell, 'I declar's myse'f in on the play; an' +we-all three sets down an' admires Enright Peets an' visits an' has a +splendid afternoon.' + +"'An' wherever doorin' this emute is Dave?' asks Enright. + +"'Oh, Dave?' says Nell. 'Why he's lurkin' about outside som'ers in a +furtive, surreptitious way; but he don't molest us none. Which, now I +remembers, Dave don't even come near us none at all.' + +"'I should say not!' says Texas Thompson, plenty emphatic. 'Dave ain't +quite that witless.' + +"'Now, gents,' remarks Doc Peets, when Nell is done, an' his tones is +confident like he's certain of his foothold, 'since things has gone thus +far I'll sa'nter into the midst of these domestic difficulties an' adjust +'em some. I've thought up a s'lootion; an' it's apples to ashes that +inside of twenty-four hours I has Jennie pettin' an' cossetin' Dave to +beat four of a kind. Leave this yere matter to me entire.' + +"We-all can't see jest how Peets is goin' to work these mir'cles; still, +sech is our faith, we believes. We decides among ourse'fs, however, that +if Peets does turn this pacific trick it'll ondoubted be the crownin' +glory of his c'reer. + +"After Peets hangs up his bluff, we goes about strainin' eyes an' y'ears +for any yells or signal smokes that denotes the advent of said changes. +An', son, hard as it is to credit, it comes to pass like Peets +prognosticates. By next evenin' a great current of tenderness for Dave +goes over Jennie all at once. She begins to call him 'Davy'--a onheard +of weakness!--an' hovers about him askin' whatever he thinks he needs; in +fact, she becomes that devoted, it looks like the little Enright Peets'll +want he'p next to play his hand for him. That's the trooth: Jennie goes +mighty clost to forgettin' Enright Peets now an' then in her wifely +anxieties concernin' Dave. + +"As for Dave himse'f, he don't onderstand his sudden an' onmerited +pop'larity; but wearin' a dazed grin of satisfied ignorance, that a-way, +he accepts the sityooation without askin' reasons, an' proceeds to profit +tharby. That household is the most reeconciled model fam'ly outfit in +all broad Arizona. An' it so continyoos to the end. + +"'Whatever did you do or say, Doc?' asks Enright a month later, as we-all +from across the street observes how Jennie kisses Dave good-bye at the +door an' then stands an' looks after him like she can't b'ar to have him +leave her sight; 'what's the secret of this second honeymoon of Dave's?' + +"'Which I don't say much,' says Peets. 'I merely takes Jennie one side +an' exhorts her to brace up an' show herse'f a brave lady. Then I +explains that while I ain't told Dave none--as his knowin' wouldn't do no +good--I regyards it as my medical dooty to inform her so's she'll be +ready to meet the shock. "The trooth is, Missis Tutt," I says, "pore +Dave's got heart disease, an' is booked to cash in any moment. I can't +say when he'll die exactly; the only shore thing is he can't survive a +year." She sheds torrents of tears; an' then I warns her she mustn't let +Dave see her grief or bushwhack anything but smiles on her face, or +mightly likely it'll stop his clock right thar. "Can't nothin' be done +for Dave?" she asks. "Nothin'," I replies, "except be tender an' lovin' +an' make Dave's last days as pleasant an' easy as you can. We must jump +in an' smooth the path to his totterin' moccasins with gentleness an' +love," I says, "an' be ready, when the blow does fall, to b'ar it with +what fortitoode we may." That's all I tells her. However, it looks like +it's becomin' a case of overplay in one partic'lar; our pore young +namesake, Enright Peets, is himse'f gettin' a trifle the worst of it, an' +I'm figgerin' that to-morry, mebby, I'll look that infant over, an' +vouchsafe the news thar's something mighty grievous the matter with his +lungs.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +Bill Connors of the Osages. + +"Nacherally, if you-all is frettin' to hear about Injuns," observed the +Old Cattleman in reply to my latest request, "I better onfold how Osage +Bill Connors gets his wife. Not that thar's trouble in roundin' up this +squaw; none whatever. She comes easy; all the same said tale elab'rates +some of them savage customs you're so cur'ous concernin'." + +My companion arose and kicked together the logs in the fireplace. This +fireplace was one of the great room's comforts as well as ornaments. The +logs leaped into much accession of flame, and crackled into sparks, and +these went gossiping up the mighty chimney, their little fiery voices +making a low, soft roaring like the talk of bees. + +"This chimley draws plenty successful," commented my friend. "Which it +almost breaks even with a chimley I constructs once in my log camp on the +Upper Red. That Red River floo is a wonder! Draw? Son, it could draw +four kyards an' make a flush. But that camp of mine on the Upper Red is +over eight thousand foot above the sea as I'm informed by a passel of +surveyor sports who comes romancin' through the hills with a spyglass on +three pegs; an' high altitoods allers proves a heap exileratin' to a fire. + +"But speakin' of Bill Connors: In Wolfville--which them days is the only +part of my c'reer whereof I'm proud an' reviews with onmixed +satisfaction--Doc Peets is, like you, inquis'tive touchin' Injuns. Peets +puts it up that some day he's doo to write books about 'em. Which in off +hours, an' when we-all is more or less at leesure over our Valley Tan, +Peets frequent comes explorin' 'round for details. Shore, I imparts all +I saveys about Bill Connors, an' likewise sech other aborigines as lives +in mem'ry; still, it shakes my estimates of Peets to find him eager over +Injuns, they bein' low an' debasin' as topics. I says as much to Peets. + +"'Never you-all mind about me,' says Peets. 'I knows so much about white +folks it comes mighty clost to makin' me sick. I seeks tales of Injuns +as a relief an' to promote a average in favor of the species.' + +"This Bill Connors' is a good-lookin' young buck when I cuts his trail; +straight as a pine an' strong an' tireless as a bronco. It's about six +years after the philanthrofists ropes onto Bill an' drags him off to a +school. You-all onderstands about a philanthrofist--one of these sports +who's allers improvin' some party's condition in a way the party who's +improved don't like. + +"'A philanthrofist,' says Colonel Sterett, one time when Dan Boggs +demands the explanation at his hands; 'a philanthrofist is a gent who +insists on you givin' some other gent your money.' + +"For myse'f, however, I regyards the Colonel's definition as too narrow. +Troo philanthrofy has a heap of things to it that's jest as onreasonable +an' which does not incloode the fiscal teachers mentioned by the Colonel. + +"As I'm sayin'; these well-meanin' though darkened sports, the +philanthrofists, runs Bill down--it's mebby when he's fourteen, only +Injuns don't keep tab on their years none--an' immures him in one of the +gov'ment schools. It's thar Bill gets his name, 'Bill Connors.' Before +that he cavorts about, free an' wild an' happy onder the Injun app'lation +of the 'Jack Rabbit.' + +"Shore! Bill's sire--a savage who's 'way up in the picture kyards, an' +who's called 'Crooked Claw' because of his left hand bein' put out of +line with a Ute arrow through it long ago--gives his consent to Bill +j'inin' that sem'nary. Crooked Claw can't he'p himse'f; he's powerless; +the Great Father in Washin'ton is backin' the play of the philanthrofists. + +"'Which the Great Father is too many for Crooked Claw,' says this parent, +commentin' on his helplessness. Bill's gone canterin' to his old gent to +remonstrate, not hungerin' for learnin', an' Crooked Claw says this to +Bill: 'The Great Father is too many for Crooked Claw; an' too strong. +You must go to school as the Great Father orders; it is right. The +longest spear is right.' + +"Bill is re-branded, 'Bill Connors,' an' then he's done bound down to +them books. After four years Bill gradyooates; he's got the limit an' +the philanthrofists takes Bill's hobbles off an' throws him loose with +the idee that Bill will go back to his tribe folks an' teach 'em to read. +Bill comes back, shore, an' is at once the Osage laughin'-stock for +wearin' pale-face clothes. Also, the medicine men tells Bill he'll die +for talkin' paleface talk an' sportin' a paleface shirt, an' these +prophecies preys on Bill who's eager to live a heap an' ain't ready to +cash in. Bill gets back to blankets an' feathers in about a month. + +"Old Black Dog, a leadin' sharp among the Osages, is goin' about with a +dab of clay in his ha'r, and wearin' his most ornery blanket. That's +because Black Dog is in mournin' for a squaw who stampedes over the Big +Divide, mebby it's two months prior. Black Dog's mournin' has got dealt +down to the turn like; an' windin' up his grief an' tears, Osage fashion, +he out to give a war-dance. Shore; the savages rings in a war-dance on +all sorts of cer'monies. It don't allers mean that they're hostile, an' +about to spraddle forth on missions of blood. Like I states, Black Dog, +who's gone to the end of his mournful lariat about the departed squaw, +turns himse'f on for a war-dance; an' he nacherally invites the Osage +nation to paint an' get in on the festiv'ties. + +"Accordin' to the rooles, pore Bill, jest back from school, has got to +cut in. Or he has his choice between bein' fined a pony or takin' a +lickin' with mule whips in the hands of a brace of kettle-tenders whose +delight as well as dooty it is to mete out the punishment. Bill can't +afford to go shy a pony, an' as he's loth to accept the larrupin's, he +wistfully makes ready to shake a moccasin at the _baile_. An' as nothin' +but feathers, blankets, an' breech-clouts goes at a war-dance--the same +bein' Osage dress-clothes--Bill shucks his paleface garments an' arrays +himse'f after the breezy fashion of his ancestors. Bill attends the war +dance an' shines. Also, bein' praised by the medicine men an' older +bucks for quittin' his paleface duds; an' findin' likewise the old-time +blanket an' breech-clout healthful an' saloobrious--which Bill forgets +their feel in his four years at that sem'nary--he adheres to 'em. This +lapse into aboriginal ways brews trouble for Bill; he gets up ag'inst the +agent. + +"It's the third day after Black Dog's war-dance, an' Bill, all paint an' +blankets an' feathers, is sa'nterin' about Pawhusky, takin' life easy an' +Injun fashion. It's then the agent connects with Bill an' sizes him up. +The agent asks Bill does he stand in on this yere Black Dog war-dance. + +"'Don't they have no roast dog at that warjig?' asks Dan Boggs, when I'm +relatin' these reminiscences in the Red Light. + +"'No,' I says; 'Osages don't eat no dogs.' + +"'It's different with Utes a lot,' says Dan, 'Which Utes regyards dogs +fav'rable, deemin' 'em a mighty sucyoolent an' nootritious dish. The +time I'm with the Utes they pulls off a shindig, "tea dance" it is, an', +as what Huggins would call "a star feacher" they ups an' roasts a white +dog. That canine is mighty plethoric an' fat, an' they lays him on his +broad, he'pless back an' shets off his wind with a stick cross-wise of +his neck, an' two bucks pressin' on the ends. When he's good an' dead +an' all without no suffoosion of blood, the Utes singes his fur off in a +fire an' bakes him as he is. I partakes of that dog--some. I don't +nacherally lay for said repast wide-jawed, full-toothed an' reemorseless, +like it's flapjacks--I don't gorge myse'f none; but when I'm in Rome, I +strings my chips with the Romans like the good book says, an' so I sort +o' eats baked dog with the Utes. Otherwise, I'd hurt their +sens'bilities; an' I ain't out to harrow up no entire tribe an' me +playin' a lone hand.' + +"That agent questions Bill as to the war-dance carryin's on of old Black +Dog. Then he p'ints at Bill's blankets an' feathers an' shakes his head +a heap disapprobative. + +"'Shuck them blankets an' feathers,' says the agent, 'an' get back into +your trousers a whole lot; an' be sudden about it, too. I puts up with +the divers an' sundry rannikabooisms of old an' case-hardened Injuns +who's savage an' ontaught. But you're different; you've been to school +an' learned the virchoos of pants; wherefore, I looks for you to set +examples.' + +"It's then Bill gets high an' allows he'll wear clothes to suit himse'f. +Bill denounces trousers as foolish in their construction an' fallacious +in their plan. Bill declar's they're a bad scheme, trousers is; an' so +sayin' he defies the agent to do his worst. Bill stands pat on blankets +an' feathers. + +"'Which you will, will you!' remarks this agent. + +"Then he claps Bill in irons mighty decisive, an' plants him up ag'in the +high face of a rock bluff which has been frownin' down on Bird River +since Adam makes his first camp. Havin' got Bill posed to his notion, +this earnest agent, puttin' a hammer into Bill's rebellious hand, starts +him to breakin' rock. + +"'Which the issue is pants,' says the obdurate agent sport; 'an' I'll +keep you-all whackin' away at them boulders while the cliff lasts onless +you yields. Thar's none of you young bucks goin' to bluff me, an' that's +whatever!' + +"Bill breaks rocks two days. The other Osages comes an' perches about, +sympathetic, an' surveys Bill. They exhorts him to be firm; they gives +it out in Osage he's a patriot. + +"Bill's willin' to be a patriot as the game is commonly dealt, but when +his love of country takes the form of poundin' rocks, the noble +sentiments which yeretofore bubbles in Bill's breast commences to pall on +Bill an' he becomes none too shore but what trousers is right. By second +drink time--only savages don't drink, a paternal gov'ment barrin' +nosepaint on account of it makin' 'em too fitfully exyooberant--by second +drink time the second evenin' Bill lays down his hand--pitches his hammer +into the diskyard as it were--an' when I crosses up with him, Bill's that +abject he wears a necktie. When Bill yields, the agent meets him half +way, an' him an' Bill rigs a deal whereby Bill arrays himse'f Osage +fashion whenever his hand's crowded by tribal customs. Other times, Bill +inhabits trousers; an' blankets an' feathers is rooled out. + +"Shore, I talks with Bill's father, old Crooked Claw. This yere savage +is the ace-kyard of Osage-land as a fighter. No, that outfit ain't been +on the warpath for twenty years when I sees 'em then it's with Boggs' old +pards, the Utes. I asks Crooked Claw if he likes war. He tells me that +he dotes on carnage like a jaybird, an' goes forth to battle as joobilant +as a drunkard to a shootin' match. That is, Crooked Claw used to go +curvin' off to war, joyful, at first. Later his glee is subdooed because +of the big chances he's takin'. Then he lugs out 'leven skelps, all Ute, +an' eloocidates. + +"'This first maverick,' says Crooked Claw--of course, I gives him in the +American tongue, not bein' equal to the reedic'lous broken Osage he +talks--'this yere first maverick,' an' he strokes the braided ha'r of a +old an' smoke-dried skelp, 'is easy. The chances, that a-way, is even. +Number two is twice as hard; an' when I snags onto number three--I downs +that hold-up over by the foot of Fisher's Peak--the chances has done +mounted to be three to one ag'in me. So it goes gettin' higher an' +higher, ontil when I corrals my 'leventh, it's 'leven to one he wins +onless he's got killin's of his own to stand off mine. I don't reckon +none he has though,' says Crooked Claw, curlin' his nose contemptuous. +'He's heap big squaw--a coward; an' would hide from me like a quail. He +looks big an' brave an' strong, but his heart is bad--he is a poor knife +in a good sheath. So I don't waste a bullet on him, seein' his fear, but +kills him with my war-axe. Still, he raises the chances ag'inst me to +twelve to one, an' after that I goes careful an' slow. I sends in my +young men; but for myse'f I sort o' hungers about the suburbs of the +racket, takin' no resks an' on the prowl for a cinch,--some sech pick-up +as a sleeper, mebby. But my 'leventh is my last; the Great Father in +Washin'ton gets tired with us an' he sends his walk-a-heaps an' buffalo +soldiers'--these savages calls niggers 'buffalo soldiers,' bein' they're +that woolly--'an' makes us love peace. Which we'd a-had the Utes too +dead to skin if it ain't for the walk-a-heaps an' buffalo soldiers.' + +"An' at this Crooked Claw tosses the bunch of Ute top-knots to one of his +squaws, fills up his red-stone pipe with kinnikinick an' begins to smoke, +lookin' as complacent as a catfish doorin' a Joone rise. + +"Bill Connors has now been wanderin' through this vale of tears for mebby +she's twenty odd years, an' accordin' to Osage tenets, Bill's doo to get +wedded. No, Bill don't make no move; he comports himse'f lethargic; the +reesponsibilities of the nuptials devolves on Bill's fam'ly. + +"It's one of the excellentest things about a Injun that he don't pick out +no wife personal, deemin' himse'f as too locoed to beat so difficult a +game. + +"Or mebby, as I observes to Texas Thompson one time in the Red Light when +him an' me's discussin', or mebby it's because he's that callous he don't +care, or that shiftless he won't take trouble. + +"'Whatever's the reason,' says Texas, on that o'casion, heavin' a sigh, +'thar's much to be said in praise of the custom. If it only obtains +among the whites thar's one sport not onknown to me who would have shore +passed up some heartaches. You can bet a hoss, no fam'ly of mine would +pick out the lady who beats me for that divorce back in Laredo to be the +spouse of Texas Thompson. Said household's got too much savey to make +sech a break.' + +"While a Osage don't select that squaw of his, still I allers entertains +a theery that he sort o' saveys what he's ag'inst an' no he'pmeet gets +sawed off on him objectionable an' blind. I figgers, for all he don't +let on, that sech is the sityooation in the marital adventures of Bill. +His fam'ly picks the Saucy Willow out; but it's mighty likely he signs up +the lady to some discreet member of his outfit before ever they goes in +to make the play. + +"Saucy Willow for a savage is pretty--pretty as a pinto hoss. Her +parent, old Strike Axe, is a morose but common form of Osage, strong +financial, with a big bunch of cattle an' more'n two hundred ponies. +Bill gets his first glimpse, after he comes back from school, of the +lovely Saucy Willow at a dance. This ain't no war-dance nor any other +ceremonious splurge; it's a informal merrymakin', innocent an' free, same +as is usual with us at the Wolfville dance hall. Shore, Osages, lacks +guitars an' fiddles, an' thar's no barkeep nor nosepaint--none, in +trooth, of the fav'rable adjuncts wherewith we makes a evenin' in +Hamilton's hurdygurdy a season of social elevation, an' yet they pulls +off their fandangoes with a heap of verve, an' I've no doubt they shore +enjoys themse'fs. + +"For two hours before sundown the kettle-tenders is howlin' an' callin' +the dance throughout the Osage camp. Thar's to be a full moon, an' the +dance--the _Ingraska_ it is; a dance the Osages buys from the Poncas for +eight ponies--is to come off in a big, high-board corral called the +'Round House.' + +"Followin' the first yell of the kettle-tenders, the young bucks begins +to paint up for the hilarity. You might see 'em all over camp, for it's +August weather an' the walls of the tents an' teepees is looped up to let +in the cool, daubin' the ocher on their faces an' braidin' the feathers +into their ha'r. This organisin' for a _baile_ ain't no bagatelle, an' +two hours is the least wherein any se'f-respectin' buck who's out to make +a centre shot on the admiration of the squaws an' wake the envy of rival +bucks, can lay on the pigments, so he paints away at his face, careful +an' acc'rate, sizin' up results meanwhile in a jimcrow lookin' glass. At +last he's as radiant as a rainbow, an' after garterin' each laig with a +belt of sleigh-bells jest below the knee, he regyards himse'f with a +fav'rable eye an' allows he's ondoubted the wildest wag in his set. + +"Each buck arrives at the Round House with his blanket wropped over his +head so as not to blind the onwary with his splendours. It's mebby +second drink time after sundown an' the full moon is swingin' above +effulgent. The bucks who's doo to dance sets about one side of the Round +House on a board bench; the squaws--not bein' in on the proposed +activities--occupies the other half, squattin' on the ground. Some of +'em packs their papooses tied on to a fancy-ribboned, highly beaded +board, an' this they makes a cradle of by restin' one end on the ground +an' the other on their toe, rockin' the same meanwhile with a motion of +the foot. Thar's a half hoop over the head-end of these papoose boards, +hung with bells for the papoose to get infantile action on an' amoose his +leesure. + +"The bucks settin' about their side of the Round House, still wrops +themse'fs in their blankets so as not to dazzle the squaws to death +preematoor. At last the music peals forth. The music confines itse'f to +a bass drum--paleface drum it is--which is staked out hor'zontal about a +foot high from the grass over in the centre. The orchestra is a decrepit +buck with a rag-wropped stick; with this weepon he beats the drum, +chantin' at the same time a pensive refrain. + +"Mebby a half-dozen squaws, with no papooses yet to distract 'em, camps +'round this virchuoso with the rag-stick, an' yoonites their girlish +howls with his. You-all can put down a bet it don't remind you none of +nightingales or mockin' birds; but the Injuns likes it. Which their +simple sperits wallows in said warblin's! But to my notion they're more +calc'lated to loco a henhawk than furnish inspiration for a dance. + +"'Tunk! tunk! tunk! tunk!' goes this rag-stick buck, while the squaws +chorus along with, 'Hy-yah! hy-yah! hy-yah-yah-yah! Hy-yah! hy-yah! +hy-yah-yah-yah!' an' all grievous, an' make no mistake! + +"At the first 'tunk!' the bucks stiffen to their feet and cast off the +blankets. Feathers, paint, an' bells! they blaze an' tinkle in the +moonlight with a subdooed but savage elegance. They skates out onto the +grass, stilt-laig, an' each buck for himse'f. They go skootin' about, +an' weave an' turn an' twist like these yere water-bugs jiggin' it on the +surface of some pond. Sometimes a buck'll lay his nose along the ground +while he dances--sleigh bells jinglin', feathers tossin'! Then he'll +straighten up ontil he looks like he's eight foot tall; an' they shore +throws themse'fs with a heap of heart an' sperit. + +"It's as well they does. If you looks clost you observes a brace of +bucks, and each packin' a black-snake whip. Them's +kettle-tenders,--floor managin' the _baile_ they be; an' if a buck who's +dancin' gets preeoccupied with thinkin' of something else an' takes to +prancin' an' dancin' listless, the way the kettle-tenders pours the +leather into him to remind him his fits of abstraction is bad form, is +like a religious ceremony. An' it ain't no bad idee; said kettle-tenders +shore promotes what Colonel Sterett calls the _elan_ of the dancin' bucks +no end. + +"After your eyes gets used to this whirlin' an' skatin' an' skootin' an' +weavin' in an' out, you notes two bucks, painted to a finish an' +feathered to the stars! who out-skoots an' out-whirls an' out-skates +their fellow bucks like four to one. They gets their nose a little lower +one time an' then stands higher in the air another, than is possible to +the next best buck. Them enthoosiasts ain't Osages at all; which they're +niggers--full-blood Senegambians they be, who's done j'ined the tribe. +These Round House festivals with the paint, the feathers, an' the bells, +fills their trop'cal hearts plumb full, an' forgettin' all about the +white folks an' their gyarded ways, they're the biggest Injuns to warm a +heel that night. + +"Saucy Willow is up by the damaged rag-stick buck lendin' a mouthful or +two of cl'ar, bell-like alto yelps to the harmony of the evenin'. Bill +who's a wonder in feathers an' bells, an' whose colour-scheme would drive +a temp'rance lecturer to drink, while zippin' about in the moonlight gets +his eye on her. Mighty likely Bill's smitten; but he don't let on, the +fam'ly like I relates, allers ropin' up a gent's bride. It's good +bettin' this yere Saucy Willow counts up Bill. If she does, however,--no +more than Bill,--she never tips her hand. The Saucy Willow yelps on +onconcerned, like her only dream of bliss is to show the coyotes what +vocal failures they be. + +"It's a week after the _Ingraska_, an' Bill's fam'ly holds a round-up to +pick Bill out a squaw. He ain't present, havin' the savey to go +squanderin' off to play Injun poker with some Creek sports he hears has +money over on the Polecat. Bill's fam'ly makes quite a herd, bucks an' +squaws buttin' in on the discussion permiscus an' indiscrim'nate. Shore! +the squaws has as much to say as the bucks among Injuns. They owns their +own ponies an' backs their own play an' is as big a Injun as anybody, +allowin' for that nacheral difference between squaw dooties an' buck +dooties--one keeps camp while the other hunts, or doorin' war times when +one protects the herds an' plunder while the other faces the foe. You +hears that squaws is slaves? However is anybody goin' to be a slave +where thar's as near nothin' to do in the way of work as is possible an' +let a hooman live? Son, thar ain't as much hard labour done in a Injun +camp in a week--ain't as much to do as gets transacted at one of them +rooral oyster suppers to raise money for the preacher! + +"Bill's fam'ly comes trailin' in to this powwow about pickin' out a squaw +for Bill. Besides Crooked Claw, thar's Bill's widow aunt, the Wild +Cat--she's plumb cunnin', the Wild Cat is, an' jest then bein' cel'brated +among the Osages for smokin' ponies with Black B'ar, a old buck, an' +smokin' Black B'ar out of his two best cayouses. Besides these two, +thar's The-man-who-bleeds, The-man-who-sleeps, Tom Six-killer, +The-man-who-steps-high, an' a dozen other squaws an' bucks, incloosive of +Bill's mother who's called the Silent Comanche, an' is takin' the play a +heap steady an' livin' up to her name. + +"The folks sets 'round an' smokes Crooked Claw's kinnikinick. Then the +Wild Cat starts in to deal the game. She says it's time Bill's married, +as a onmarried buck is a menace; at this the others grunts agreement. +Then they all turns in to overhaul the el'gible young squaws. Which they +shore shows up them belles! One after the other they're drug over the +coals. At last the Wild Cat mentions the Saucy Willow jest as every +savage present knows will be done soon or late from the jump. The Saucy +Willow obtains a speshul an' onusual run for her money. But it's settled +final that while the Saucy Willow ain't none too good, she's the best +they can do. The Saucy Willow belongs to the Elk clan, while Bill +belongs to the B'ar clan, an' that at least is c'rrect. Injuns don't +believe in inbreedin' so they allers marries out of their clan. + +"As soon as they settles on the Saucy Willow as Bill's squaw, they turns +in to make up the 'price.' The Wild Cat, who's rich, donates a kettle, a +side of beef, an' the two cayouses she smokes outen the besotted Black +B'ar. The rest chucks in accordin' to their means, Crooked Claw comin' +up strong with ten ponies; an' Bill's mother, the Silent Comanche, +showin' down with a bolt of calico, two buffalo robes, a sack of flour +an' a lookin' glass. This plunder is to go to the Saucy Willow's folks +as a 'price' for the squaw. No, they don't win on the play; the Saucy +Willow's parents is out _dinero_ on the nuptials when all is done. They +has to give Bill their wickeyup. + +"When Bill's outfit's fully ready to deal for blood they picks out some +bright afternoon. The Saucy Willow's fam'ly is goin' about lookin' +partic'lar harmless an' innocent; but they're coony enough to be in camp +that day. A procession starts from the Crooked Claw camp. Thar's +The-man-who-steps-high at the head b'arin' a flag, union down, an' +riotin' along behind is Tom Six-killer, The-man-who-sleeps, the Wild Cat +and others leadin' five ponies an' packin' kettles, flour, beef, an' +sim'lar pillage. They lays it all down an' stakes out the broncos about +fifty yards from Strike Axe's camp an' withdraws. + +"Then some old squaw of the Strike Axe outfit issues forth an' throws the +broncos loose. That's to show that the Saucy Willow is a onusual +excellent young squaw an' pop'lar with her folks, an' they don't aim to +shake her social standin' by acceptin' sech niggard terms. + +"But the Crooked Claw outfit ain't dismayed, an' takes this rebuff +phlegmatic. It's only so much ettyquette; an' now it's disposed of they +reorganise to lead ag'in to win. This time they goes the limit, an' +brings up fifteen ponies an' stacks in besides with blankets, robes, +beef, flour, calico, kettles, skillets, and looking-glasses enough to +fill eight waggons. This trip the old Strike Axe squaw onties the +fifteen ponies an' takin' 'em by their ropes brings 'em in clost to the +Strike Axe camp, tharby notifyin' the Crooked Claw band that their bluff +for the Saucy Willow is regyarded as feasible an' the nuptials goes. +With this sign, the Crooked Claws comes caperin' up to the Strike Axes +an' the latter fam'ly proceeds to rustle a profoosion of grub; an' with +that they all turns in an' eats old Strike Axe outen house an' home. The +'price' is split up among the Strike Axe bunch, shares goin' even to +second an' third cousins. + +"Mebby she's a week later when dawns the weddin' day. Bill, who's been +lookin' a heap numb ever since these rites becomes acoote, goes +projectin' off alone onto the prairie. The Saucy Willow is hid in the +deepest corner of Strike Axe's teepee; which if she's visible, however, +you'd be shore amazed at the foolish expression she wears, but all as shy +an' artless as a yearlin' antelope. + +"But it grows time to wind it up, an' one of the Strike Axe bucks climbs +into the saddle an' rides half way towards the camp of Crooked Claw. +Strike Axe an' Crooked Claw in antic'pation of these entanglements has +done pitched their camps about half a mile apart so as to give the +pageant spread an' distances. When he's half way, the Strike Axe buck +fronts up an' slams loose with his Winchester; it's a signal the _baile_ +is on. + +"At the rifle crack, mounted on a pony that's the flower of the Strike +Axe herd, the Saucy Willow comes chargin' for the Crooked Claws like a +shootin' star. The Saucy Willow is a sunburst of Osage richness! an' is +packin' about five hundred dollars' worth of blankets, feathers, beads, +calicoes, ribbons, an' buckskins, not to mention six pounds of brass an' +silver jewelry. Straight an' troo comes the Saucy Willow; skimmin' like +a arrow an' as rapid as the wind! + +"As Saucy Willow embarks on this expedition, thar starts to meet +her--afoot they be but on the run--Tom Six-killer an' a brace of squaw +cousins of Bill's. Nacherally, bein' he out-lopes the cousins, Tom +Six-killer runs up on the Saucy Willow first an' grabs her bronco by the +bridle. The two young squaw cousins ain't far behind the Six-killer, +for they can run like rabbits, an' they arrives all laughter an' cries, +an' with one move searches the Saucy Willow outen the saddle. In less +time than it takes to get action on a drink of licker the two young +squaws has done stripped the Saucy Willow of every feather, bead an' rag, +an' naked as when she's foaled they wrops her up, precious an' safe in a +blanket an' packs her gleefully into the camp of Crooked Claw. Here they +re-dresses the Saucy Willow an' piles on the gew-gaws an' adornments, +ontil if anything she's more gorgeous than former. The pony which the +Saucy Willow rides goes to the Six-killer, while the two she-cousins, as +to the balance of her apparel that a-way, divides the pot. + +"An' now like a landslide upon the Crooked Claws comes the Strike Axe +household. Which they're thar to the forty-'leventh cousin; savages +keepin' exact cases on relatives a mighty sight further than white folks. +The Crooked Claw fam'ly is ready. It's Crooked Claw's turn to make the +feast, an' that eminent Osage goes the distance. Crooked Claw shorely +does himse'f proud, while Bill's mother, the Silent Comanche, is +hospitable, but dignified. It's a great weddin'. The Wild Cat is +pirootin' about, makin' mean an' onfeelin' remarks, as becomes a widow +lady with a knowledge of the world an' a bundle the size an' shape of a +roll of blankets. The two fam'lies goes squanderin' about among each +other, free an' fraternal, an' thar's never a cloud in the sky. + +"At last the big feed begins. Son, you should have beheld them fool +Osages throw themse'fs upon the Crooked Claw's good cheer. It's a p'int +of honour to eat as much as you can; an' b'arin' that in mind the +revellers mows away about twenty pounds of beef to a buck--the squaws, +not bein' so ardent, quits out on mighty likely it's the thirteenth +pound. Tom Six-killer comes plenty clost to sacrificin' himse'f utter. + +"This last I knows, for the next day I sees the medicine men givin' some +sufferer one of their aboriginal steam baths. They're on the bank of +Bird River. They've bent down three or four small saplin's for the +framework of a tent like, an' thar's piled on 'em blankets an' robes a +foot deep so she's plumb airtight. Thar's a fire goin' an' they're +heatin' rocks, same as Colonel Sterett tells about when they baptises his +grandfather into the church. When the rocks is red-hot they takes 'em, +one by one, an' drops 'em into a bucket of water to make her steam. Then +they shoves this impromptoo cauldron inside the little robe house where +as I'm aware--for I onderstands the signs from the start--thar's a sick +buck quiled up awaitin' relief. This yere invalid buck stays in thar +twenty minutes. The water boils an' bubbles an' the steam gets that +abundant not to say urgent she half lifts the robes an' blankets at the +aiges to escape. The ailin' buck in the sweat tent stays ontil he can't +stay no more, an' then with a yowl, he comes burstin' forth, a reek of +sweat an' goes splashin' into the coolin' waters of Bird River. It's the +Six-killer; that weddin' feast comes mighty near to downin' him--gives +him a 'bad heart,' an' he ondergoes the steam bath for relief. + +"But we're strayed from that weddin'. Bein' now re-arrayed in fullest +feather the Saucy Willow is fetched into the ring an' receives a platter +with the rest. Then one of the bucks, lookin' about like he's amazed, +says: 'Wherever is the Jack Rabbit?' that bein' Bill's Osage title. +Crooked Claw shakes his head an' reckons most likely the Jack Rabbit's +rummagin' about loose some'ers, not knowin' enough to come in an' eat. A +brace of bucks an' a young squaw starts up an' figgers they'll search +about an' see if they can't round him up. They goes out an' thar's Bill +settin' off on a rock a quarter of a mile with his back to the camp an' +the footure. + +"The two sharps an' the squaw herds Bill into camp an' stakes him out, +shoulder to shoulder, with the little Saucy Willow. Neither Bill nor the +little Saucy Willow su'gests by word, screech or glance that they saveys +either the game or the stakes, an' eats on, takin' no notice of themse'fs +or any of the gluttons who surrounds 'em. Both Bill an' the little Saucy +Willow looks that witless you-all would yearn to bat 'em one with the +butt of a mule whip if onfortoonately you're present to be exasperated by +sech exhibitions. At last, however, jest as the patience of the audience +is plumb played, both Bill an' the little Saucy Willow gives a start of +surprise. Which they're pretendin' to be startled to find they're +feedin' off the same dish. Thar you be; that makes 'em 'buck an' +squaw'--'man an' wife;' an' yereafter, in Osage circles they can print +their kyards 'Mister an' Missis Bill Connors,' while Bill draws an' +spends the little Saucy Willow's annooty on payment day instead of Strike +Axe." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +When Tutt first saw Tucson. + +"An' speakin' of dooels," remarked the Old Cattleman, apropos of an +anecdote of the field of honour wherewith I regaled his fancy, +"speakin' of dooels, I reckons now the encounter Dave Tutt involves +himse'f with when he first sees Tucson takes onchallenged preecedence +for utter bloodlessness. She's shore the most lamb's-wool form of +single combat to which my notice is ever drawn. Dave enlightens us +concernin' its details himse'f, bein' incited tharunto by hearin' Texas +Thompson relate about the Austin shootin' match of that Deaf Smith. + +"'Which this yere is 'way back yonder on the trail of time,' explains +Dave, 'an' I'm hardened a heap since then. I've jest come buttin' into +Tucson an' it's easy money I'm the tenderest an' most ontaught party +that ever wears store-moccasins. What I misses knowin' would make as +husky a library,--if it's printed down in books,--as ever lines up on +shelves. Also, I'm freighted to the limit with the tenderfoot's usual +outfit of misinformation. It's sad, yet troo! that as I casts my gaze +r'arward I identifies myse'f as the balmiest brand of shorthorn who +ever leaves his parents' shelterin' roof.' + +"'All the same,' says Dan Boggs, plenty conceited, 'I'll gamble a hoss +I'm a bigger eediot when I quits Missouri to roam the cow country than +ever you-all can boast of bein' in your most drivelin' hour.' + +"'Do they lock you up?' asks Dave. + +"'No,' says Dan, 'they don't lock me up none, but----' + +"'Then you lose,' insists Dave, mighty prompt. + +"'But hold on,' says Dan; 'don't get your chips down so quick. As I +starts to explain, I ain't locked up; but it's because I'm in a camp +like Wolfville yere that ain't sunk to the level of no calaboose. But +what comes to be the same, I'm taken captive an' held as sech ontil the +roodiments of Western sense is done beat into me. It takes the +yoonited efforts of four of the soonest sharps that ever happens; an' +final, they succeeds to a p'int that I'm deemed cap'ble of goin' about +alone.' + +"'Well,' retorts Dave, 'I won't dispoote with you; an' even at that I +regyards your present attitoode as one of bluff. I thinks you're shore +the cunnin'est wolf in the territory, Dan, an' allers is. But, as I'm +sayin', when I first begins to infest Tucson, I'm so ignorant it's a +stain on that meetropolis. At this yere epock, Tucson ain't spraddled +to its present proud dimensions. A gent might have thrown the loop of +a lariat about the outfit an' drug it after him with a pony. No one, +however, performs this labour, as the camp is as petyoolant as a +t'rant'ler an' any onauthorised dalliance with its sensibilities would +have led to vivid plays. Still, she ain't big, Tucson ain't; an' I +learns my way about from centre to suburbs in the first ten minutes. + +"'At the beginnin' I'm a heap timid. I suffers from the common eastern +theery an' looks on Arizona as a region where it's murder straight an' +lynchin' for a place. You-all may jedge from that how erroneous is my +idees. Then, as now, the distinguishin' feacher of Tucson existence is +a heavenly ca'm. Troo, thar's moments when the air nacherally fills up +with bullets like they're a passel of swallow-birds, an' they hums an' +sings their merry madrigals. However, these busy seasons don't set in +so often nor last so long but peaceful folks has ample chance to +breathe. + +"'Never does I b'ar witness to as many as seven contemporaneous +remainders but once; and then thar's cause. It's in a poker game; an' +the barkeep brings the dealer a cold deck onder a tray whereon he +purveys the drinks. Which the discovery of this yere solecism, as +you-all well imagines, arouses interest, earnest an' widespread like I +deescribes. I counts up when the smoke lifts an' finds that seven has +sought eternal peace. Commonly two is the number; three bein' quite a +shipment. Shore, it's speshul sickly when as many as seven quits out +together! + +"'Bein' timid an' ignorant I takes good advice. It's in the Oriental. +Thar's that old gray cimmaron hibernatin' about the bar whose name is +Jeffords. + +"'"Be you-all conversant with that gun you packs?" asks Jeffords. + +"'I feels the hot blush mountin' in my tender cheeks, but I concedes I +ain't. "Pard," I replies, "speakin' confidenshul an' between gent an' +gent, this yere weepon is plumb novel to me." + +"'"Which I allows as much," he says, "from the egreegious way you +fidges with it. Now let me pass you-all a p'inter from the peaks of +experience. You caper back to the tavern an' take that weepon off. Or +what's as well, you pass it across to the barkeep. If you-all goes +romancin' 'round with hardware at your belt it's even money it'll get +you beefed. Allers remember while in Arizona that you'll never get +plugged--onless by inadvertence--as long as you wander about in +onheeled innocence. No gunless gent gets downed; sech is the +onbreakable roole." + +"'After that I goes guiltless of arms; I ain't hungerin' for +immortality abrupt. + +"'Old Jeffords is shore right; in the Southwest if you aims to b'ar a +charmed life, never wear a six-shooter. This maxim goes anywhere this +side of the Mississippi; east of that mighty river it's the other way. + +"'Bein' nimble-blooded in them days, I'm a heap arduous about the +dance-hall. I gets infatyooated with the good fellowship of that +hurdygurdy; an' even after I leaves Tucson an' is camped some miles +away, I saddles up every other evenin', rides in an', as says the poet, +"shakes ontirin' laig even into the wee small hours." + +"'Right yere, gents,' an' Dave pauses like he's prounced on by a solemn +thought, 'I don't reckon I has to caution none of you-all not to go +repeatin' these mem'ries of gay days done an' gone, where my wife +Tucson Jennie cuts their trail. I ain't afraid of Jennie; she's a +kind, troo he'pmeet; but ever since that onfortunate entanglement with +the English towerist lady her suspicions sets up nervous in their +blankets at the mere mention of frivolities wherein she hears my name. +I asks you, tharfore, not to go sayin' things to feed her doubts. With +Tucson Jennie, my first business is to live down my past.' + +"'You-all can bet,' says Texas Thompson, while his brow clouds, 'that I +learns enough while enjoyin' the advantages of livin' with my former +wife to make sech requests sooperfluous in my case. Speshully since if +it ain't for what the neighbours done tells the lady she'd never go +ropin' 'round for that divorce. No Dave; your secrets is plumb safe +with a gent who's suffered. + +"'Which I saveys I'm safe with all of you,' says Dave, his confidence, +which the thoughts of Tucson Jennie sort o' stampedes, beginnin' to +return. 'But now an' then them gusts of apprehensions frequent with +married gents sweeps over me an' I feels weak. But comin' back to the +dance-hall: As I su'gests thar's many a serene hour I whiles away +tharin. Your days an' your _dinero_ shore flows plenty swift in that +temple of merriment; an' chilled though I be with the stiff dignity of +a wedded middle age, if it ain't for my infant son, Enright Peets Tutt, +to whom I'm strivin' to set examples, I'd admire to prance out an' live +ag'in them halcyon hours; that's whatever! + +"'Thar's quite a sprinklin' of the _elite_ of Tucson in the dance-hall +the evenin' I has in mind. The bar is busy; while up an' down each +side sech refreshin' pastimes as farobank, monte an' roulette holds +prosperous sway. Thar's no quadrille goin' at the moment, an' a lady +to the r'ar is carollin' "Rosalie, the Prairie Flower." + + "Fair as a lily bloomin' in May, + Sweeter than roses, bright as the day! + Everyone who knows her feels her gentle power, + Rosalie the Prairie Flower." + +"'On this yere o'casion I'm so far fortunate as to be five drinks ahead +an' tharfore would sooner listen to myse'f talk than to the warblin' of +the cantatrice. As it is, I'm conversin' with a gent who's standin' +hard by. + +"'At my elbow is posted a shaggy an' forbiddin' outlaw whose name is +Yuba Tom, an' who's more harmonious than me. He wants to listen to +"Rosalie the Prairie Flower." Of a sudden, he w'irls about, plenty +peevish. + +"'Stick a period to that pow-wow," observes Yuba; "I wants to hear this +prima donna sing." + +"'Bein' gala with the five libations, I turns on Yuba haughty. "If +you're sobbin' to hear this songstress," I says, "go for'ard an' camp +down at her feet. But don't come pawin' your way into no conversations +with me. An' don't hang up no bluff." + +"'Which if you disturbs me further," retorts Yuba, "I'll turn loose for +shore an' crawl your hump a lot." + +"'Them foolhardy sports," I replies, "who has yeretofore attempted that +enterprise sleeps in onknown graves; so don't you-all pester me, for +the outlook's dark." + +"'It's now that Yuba,--who's a mighty cautious sport, forethoughtful +an' prone to look ahead,--regyards the talk as down to cases an' makes +a flash for his gun. It's concealed by his surtoot an' I ain't noticed +it none before. If I had, most likely I'd pitched the conversation in +a lower key. However, by this time, I'm quarrelsome as a badger; an' a +willin'ness for trouble subdooes an' sets its feet on my nacheral +cowardice an' holds her down.' + +"'Dave, you-all makes me nervous,' says Boggs, with a flash of heat, +'settin' thar lyin' about your timidity that a-way. You're about as +reluctant for trouble as a grizzly bar, an' you couldn't fool no gent +yere on that p'int for so much as one white chip.' + +"'Jest the same,' says Dave, mighty dogmatic, 'I still asserts that in +a concealed, inborn fashion, I'm timid absoloote. If you has ever +beheld me stand up ag'in the iron it's because I'm 'shamed to quit. +I'd wilt out like a jack-rabbit if I ain't held by pride. + +"'"You're plenty ready with that Colt's," I says to Yuba, an' my tones +is severe. "That's because you sees me weeponless. If I has a gun +now, I'd make you yell like a coyote." + +"'"S'pose you ain't heeled," reemonstrates Yuba, "that don't give you +no license to stand thar aboosin' me. Be I to blame because your +toilet ain't complete? You go frame yourse'f up, an' I'll wait;" an' +with that, this Yuba takes his hand from his artillery. + +"'Thar's a footile party who keeps the dancehall an' who signs the +books as Colonel Boone. He's called the "King of the Cowboys"; most +likely in a sperit of facetiousness since he's more like a deuce than a +king. This Boone's packin' a most excellent six-shooter loose in the +waistband of his laiggin's. Boone's passin' by as Yuba lets fly his +taunts an' this piece of ordnance is in easy reach. With one motion I +secures it an' the moment followin' the muzzle is pressin' ag'inst a +white pearl button on Yuba's bloo shirt. + +"'"Bein' now equipped," I says, "this war-dance may proceed." + +"'I'm that scared I fairly hankers for the privilege of howlin', but I +realises acootely that havin' come this far towards homicide I must +needs go through if Yuba crowds my hand. But he don't; he's forbearin' +an' stands silent an' still. Likewise, I sees his nose, yeretofore the +colour of a over-ripe violin, begin to turn sear an' gray. I recovers +sperit at this as I saveys I'm saved. Still I keeps the artillery on +him. It's the innocence of the gun that holds Yuba spellbound an' +affects his nose, an' I feels shore if I relaxes he'll be all over me +like a baggage waggon.' + +"'Which I should say so!' says Jack Moore, drawin' a deep breath. 'You +takes every chance, Dave, when you don't cut loose that time!' + +"'When Boone beholds me,' says Dave, 'annex his gun he almost c'lapses +into a fit. He makes a backward leap that shows he ain't lived among +rattlesnakes in vain. Then he stretches his hand towards me an' Yuba, +an' says, "Don't shoot! Let's take a drink; it's on the house!" + +"'Yuba, with his nose still a peaceful gray, turns from the gun an' +sidles for the bar; I follows along, thirsty, but alert. When we-all +is assembled, Boone makes a wailin' request for his six-shooter. + +"'"Get his," I says, at the same time, animadvertin' at Yuba with the +muzzle. + +"'Yuba passes his weepons over the bar an' I follows suit with Boone's. +Then we drinks with our eyes on each other in silent scorn. + +"'"Which we-all will see about this later,' growls Yuba, as he leaves +the bar. + +"'"Go as far as you like, old sport," I retorts, for this last edition, +as Colonel Sterett would term it, of Valley Tan makes me that brave I'm +miseratin' for a riot. + +"'It's the next day before ever I'm firm enough, to come ag'in to +Tucson. This stage-wait in the tragedy is doo to fear excloosive. I +hears how Yuba is plumb bad; how he's got two notches on his stick; how +he's filed the sights off his gun; an' how in all reespects he's a +murderer of merit an' renown. Sech news makes me timid two ways: I'm +afraid Yuba'll down me some; an' then ag'in I'm afraid he's so popular +I'll be lynched if I downs him. Shore, that felon Yuba begins to +assoome in my apprehensions the stern teachers of a whipsaw. At last +I'm preyed on to that degree I'm desperate; an' I makes up my mind to +invade Tucson, cross up with Yuba an' let him come a runnin'. The +nervousness of extreme yooth doubtless is what goads me to this +decision. + +"'It's about second drink time in the afternoon when, havin' donned my +weepons, I rides into Tucson. After leavin' my pony at the corral, I +turns into the main street. It's scorchin' hot an' barrin' a dead +burro thar's hardly anybody in sight. Up in front of the Oriental, as +luck has it, stands Yuba and a party of doobious morals who slays hay +for the gov'ment, an' is addressed as Lon Gilette. As I swings into +the causeway, Gilette gets his eye on me an' straightway fades into the +Oriental leavin' Yuba alone in the street. This yere strikes me as +mighty ominous; I feels the beads of water come onder my hatband, an' +begins to crowd my gun a leetle for'ard on the belt. I'm walkin' up on +the opp'site side from Yuba who stands watchin' my approach with a +serene mien. + +"'"It's the ca'mness of the tiger crouchin' for a spring," thinks I. + +"'As I arrives opp'site, Yuba stretches out his hand. "Come on over," +he sings out. + +"'"Which he's assoomin' airs of friendship," I roominates, "to get me +off my gyard." + +"'I starts across to Yuba. I'm watchin' like a lynx; an' I'm that +harrowed, if Yuba so much as sneezes or drops his hat or makes a +r'arward move of his hand, I'm doo to open on him. But he stands still +as a hill an' nothin' more menacin' than grins. As I comes clost he +offers his hand. It's prior to my shootin' quick an' ackerate with my +left hand, so I don't give Yuba my right, holdin' the same in reserve +for emergencies an' in case thar's a change of weather. But Yuba, who +can see it's fear that a-way, is too p'lite to make comments. He +shakes my left hand with well-bred enthoosiasm an' turns an' heads the +way into the Oriental. + +"'As we fronts the bar an' demands nosepaint Yuba gives up his arms; +an' full of a jocund lightheartedness as I realises that I ain't marked +for instant slaughter I likewise yields up mine. We then has four +drinks in happy an' successful alternation, an' next we seeks a table +an' subsides into seven-up. + +"'"Then thar ain't goin' to be no dooel between us?" I says to Yuba. +It's at a moment when he's turned jack an' I figgers he'll be more soft +an' leenient. "It's to be a evenin' of friendly peace?" + +"'"An' why not?" says Yuba. "I've shore took all the skelps that's +comin' to me; an' as for you-all, you're young an' my counsel is to +never begin. That pooerile spat we has don't count. I'm drinkin' at +the time, an' I don't reckon now you attaches importance to what a gent +says when he's in licker?" + +"'"Not to what he says," I replies; "but I does to what he shoots. I +looks with gravity on the gun-plays of any gent, an' the drunker he is +the more ser'ous I regyards the eepisode." + +"'"Well, she's a thing of the past now," explains Yuba, "an' this +evenin' you're as pop'lar with me as a demijohn at a camp-meetin'." + +"'Both our bosoms so wells with joy, settin' thar as we do in a +atmosphere of onexpected yet perfect fraternalism an' complete peace, +that Yuba an' me drinks a whole lot. It gets so, final, I refooses to +return to my own camp; I won't be sep'rated from Yuba. When we can no +longer drink, we turns in at Yuba's wickeyup an' sleeps. The next +mornin' we picks up the work of reeconciliation where it slips from our +tired hands the evenin' before. I does intend to reepair to my camp +when we rolls out; but after the third conj'int drink both me an' Yuba +sees so many reasons why it's a fool play I gives up the idee utter. + +"'Gents, it's no avail to pursoo me an' Yuba throughout them four +feverish days. We drifts from one drink-shop to the other, arm in arm, +as peaceful an' pleased a pair of sots as ever disturbs the better +element. Which we're the scandal of Tucson; we-all is that thickly +amiable it's a insult to other men. Thus ends my first dooel; a +conflict as bloodless as she is victorious. How long it would have +took me an' Yuba to thoroughly cement our friendships will never be +known. At the finish, we-all is torn asunder by the Tucson marshal an' +I'm returned to my camp onder gyard. Me an' Yuba before nor since +never does wax that friendly with any other gent; we'd be like brothers +yet, only the Stranglers over to Shakespear seizes on pore Yuba one +mornin' about a hoss an' heads him for his home on high.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +The Troubles of Dan Boggs. + +"This yere," remarked the Old Cattleman, at the heel of a half-hour +lecture on life and its philosophy, "this yere is a evenin' when they +gets to discussin' about luck. It's doorin' the progress of this +dispoote when Cherokee Hall allows that luck don't alternate none, +first good an' then bad, but travels in bunches like cattle or in +flocks like birds. 'Whichever way she comes,' says Cherokee, 'good or +bad, luck avalanches itse'f on a gent. That's straight!' goes on +Cherokee. 'You bet! I speaks from a voloominous experience an' a life +that, whether up or down, white or black, ain't been nothin' but luck. +Which nacherally, bein' a kyard sharp that a-way, I studies luck the +same as Peets yere studies drugs; an' my discov'ries teaches that luck +is plumb gregar'ous. Like misery in that proverb, luck loves company; +it shore despises to be lonesome.' + +"'Cherokee, I delights to hear you talk,' says Old Man Enright, as he +signs up Black Jack for the Valley Tan. 'Them eloocidations is meant +to stiffen a gent's nerve an' do him good. Shore; no one needs +encouragement nor has to train for a conflict with good luck; but it's +when he's out ag'inst the iron an' the bad luck's swoopin' an' stoopin' +at him, beak an' claw like forty hawks, that your remarks is doo to +come to his aid an' uplift his sperits some. An' as you says a moment +back, thar's bound in the long run to be a equilibr'um. The lower your +bad luck, the taller your good luck when it strikes camp. It's the +same with the old Rockies, an' wherever you goes it's ever a +never-failin' case of the deeper the valley, the higher the hill! + +"'As is frequent with me,' says Dan Boggs, after we sets quiet a +moment, meanwhiles tastin' our nosepaint thoughtful--for these +outbursts of Cherokee's an' Enright's calls for consid'rations,--'as is +frequent with me,' says Dan, 'I reckons I'll string my chips with +Cherokee. The more ready since throughout my own checkered c'reer--an' +I've done most everything 'cept sing in the choir,--luck has ever +happened bunched like he asserts. Which I gets notice of these +pecooliarities of fortune early. While I'm simply doin' nothin' to +provoke it, a gust of bad luck prounces on me an' thwarts me in a noble +ambition, rooins my social standin' an busts two of my nigh ribs all in +one week. + +"'I'm a colt at the time, an' jest about big enough to break. My folks +is livin' in Missouri over back of the Sni-a-bar Hills. By nacher I'm +a heap moosical; so I ups--givin' that genius for harmony +expression--an' yoonites myse'f with the "Sni-a-bar Silver Cornet +Band." Old Hickey is leader, an' he puts me in to play the snare drum, +the same bein' the second rung on the ladder of moosical fame, an' one +rung above the big drum. Old Hickey su'gests that I start with the +snare drum an' work up. Gents, you-all should have heard me with that +instrooment! I'd shore light into her like a storm of hail! + +"'For a spell the "Sni-a-bar Silver Cornet Band" used to play in the +woods. This yere Sni-a-bar commoonity is a mighty nervous +neighbourhood, an' thar's folks whose word is above reproach who sends +us notice they'll shoot us up if we don't; so at first we practises in +the woods. But as time goes on we improves an' plays well enough so we +don't scare children; an' then the Sni-a-bar people consents to let us +play now an' then along the road. All of us virchewosoes is locoed to +do good work, so that Sni-a-bar would get reeconciled, an' recognise us +as a commoonal factor. + +"'Well do I recall the day of our first public appearance. It's at a +political meetin' an' everything, so far as we're concerned at least, +depends on the impression we-all makes. If we goes to a balk or a +break-down, the "Sni-a-bar Silver Cornet Band's" got to go back an' +play in the woods. + +"'It's not needed that I tells you gents, how we-all is on aige. Old +Hickey gets so perturbed he shifts me onto the big drum; an' Catfish +Edwards, yeretofore custodian of that instrooment, is given the snare. +This play comes mighty clost to breakin' my heart; for I'm ambitious, +an' it galls my soul to see myse'f goin' back'ards that a-way. It's +the beginnin' of my bad luck, too. Thar's no chance to duck the play, +however, as old Hickey's word is law, so I sadly buckles on the giant +drum. + +"'We're jest turnin' into the picnic ground where this meetin's bein' +held an' I've got thoughts of nothin' but my art--as we moosicians +says--an' elevatin' the local opinion of an' concernin' the meelodious +merits of the band. We're playin' "Number Eighteen" at the time, an' +I've got my eagle eye on the paper that tells me when to welt her; an' +I'm shorely leatherin' away to beat a ace-flush. + +"'Bein' I'm new to the big drum, an' onduly eager to succeed, I've got +all my eyes picketed on the notes. It would have been as well if I'd +reeserved at least one for scenery. But I don't; an' so it befalls +that when we-all is in the very heart of the toone, an' at what it's no +exaggeration to call a crisis in our destinies, I walks straddle of a +stump. An' sech is my fatal momentum that the drum rolls up on the +stump, an' I rolls up on the drum. That's the finish; next day the +Silver Cornet Band by edict of the Sni-a-bar pop'lace is re-exiled to +them woods. But I don't go; old Hickey excloodes me, an' my hopes of +moosical eminence rots down right thar. + +"'It's mebby two days later when I'm over by the postoffice gettin' the +weekly paper for my old gent. Thar's goin' to be a Gander-Pullin' by +torchlight that evenin' over to Hickman's Mills with a dance at the +heel of the hunt. But I ain't allowin' to be present none. I'm too +deeply chagrined about my failure with that big drum; an' then ag'in, +I'm scared to ask a girl to go. You-all most likely has missed +noticin' it a heap--for I frequent forces myse'f to be gala an' festive +in company--but jest the same, deep down onder my belt, I'm bashful. +An' when I'm younger I'm worse. I'm bashful speshul of girls; for I +soon discovers that it's easier to face a gun than a girl, an' the +glance of her eye is more terrifyin' than the glimmer of a bowie. +That's the way I feels. It's a fact; I remembers a time when my +mother, gettin' plumb desp'rate over my hoomility, offers me a runnin' +hoss if I'd go co't a girl; on which o'casion I feebly urges that I'd +rather walk. + +"'On the evenin' of this yer dance an' Gander-Pullin' I'm pirootin' +about the Center when I meets up with Jule James;--Jule bein' the +village belle. "Goin' to the dance?" says Jule. "No," says I. "Why +ever don't you go?" asks Jule. "Thar ain't no girl weak-minded enough +to go with me," I replies; "I makes a bid for two or three but gets the +mitten." This yere last is a bluff. "Which I reckons now," says Jule, +givin' me a look, "if you'd asked me, I'd been fool enough to go." Of +course, with that I'm treed; I couldn't flicker, so I allows that if +Jule'll caper back to the house with me I'll take her yet. + +"'We-all gets back to my old gent's an' I proceeds to hitch up a Dobbin +hoss we has to a side-bar buggy. It's dark by now, an' we don't go to +the house nor indulge in any ranikaboo uproar about it, as I figgers +it's better not to notify the folks. Not that they'd be out to put the +kybosh on this enterprize; but they're powerful fond of talk my folks +is, an' their long suit is never wantin' you to do whatever you're out +to execoote. Wherefore, as I ain't got no time for a j'int debate with +my fam'ly over technicalities I puts Jule into the side-bar where it's +standin' in the dark onder a shed; an' then, hookin' up old Dobbin a +heap surreptitious, I gathers the reins an' we goes softly p'intin' +forth for Hickman's. + +"'As we-all is sailin' thoughtlessly along the trail, Dobbin ups an' +bolts. Sech flights is onpreeceedented in the case of Dobbin--who's +that sedate he's jest alive--an' I'm shore amazed; but I yanks him up +an' starts anew. It's twenty rods when Dobbin bolts ag'in. This time +I hears a flutter, an' reaches 'round Jule some to see if her +petticoats is whippin' the wheel. They ain't; but Jule--who esteems +said gesture in the nacher of a caress--seemin' to favour the idee, I +lets my arm stay 'round. A moment later an' this yere villain Dobbin +bolts the third time, an' as I've sort o' got my one arm tangled up +with Jule, he lams into a oak tree. + +"'It's then, when we're plumb to a halt, I does hear a flutter. At +that I gets down to investigate. Gents, you-all may onderstand my +horror when I finds 'leven of my shawl-neck game chickens roostin' on +that side-bar's reach! They're thar when we pulls out. They've +retired from the world an' its cares for the night an', in our +ignorance of them chicken's domestic arrangements, we blindly takes 'em +with us. Now an' then, as we goes rackin' along, one of 'em gets +jolted off. Then he'd hang by his chin an' beat his wings; an' it's +these frenzied efforts he makes to stay with the game that evolves them +alarmin' flutterin's. + +"'Jule--who don't own chickens an' who ain't no patron of cockfights +neither--is for settin' the shawl-necks on the fence an' pickin' 'em up +as we trails back from the Gander-Pullin'. + +"'"As long as it's dark," says Jule, "they'll stay planted; an' we +rounds 'em up on our return." + +"'But I ain't that optimistic. I knows these chickens an' they ain't +so somnolent as all that. Besides it's a cinch that a mink or a fox +comes squanderin' 'round an' takes 'em in like gooseberries. 'Leven +shawl-necks! Why, it would be a pick-up for a fox! + +"'"You're a fine Injun to take a girl to a dance!" says Jule at last, +an' she's full of scorn. + +"'"Injun or no Injun," I retorts a heap sullen, "thar ain't no +Gander-Pullin' goin' to jestify me in abandonin' my 'leven shawl-necks +an' me with a main to fight next month over on the Little Bloo!" + +"'At that I corrals the chickens an' imprisons 'em in the r'ar of the +side-bar an' goes a-weavin' back for camp, an' I picks up three more +shawl-necks where they sets battin' their he'pless eyes in the road. + +"'But I shore hears Jule's views of me as a beau! They're hot enough +to fry meat! Moreover, Jule tells all Sni-a-bar an' I'm at once a +scoff an' jeer from the Kaw to the Gasconade. Jule's old pap washes +out his rifle an' signs a pledge to plug me if ever ag'in I puts my +hand on his front gate. As I su'gests, it rooins my social c'reer in +Sni-a-bar. + +"'While I'm ground like a toad that a-way beneath the harrow of this +double setback of the drum an' Jule, thar's a circus shows up an' +pitches its merry tent in Sni-a-bar. I knows this caravan of yore--for +I'm a master-hand for shows in my yooth an' allers goes--an' bein' by +virchoo of my troubles ready to plunge into dissipation's mad an' +swirlin' midst, I sa'nters down the moment the waggons shows up; an' +after that, while that circus stays, folks who wants to see me, day or +night, has to come to the show. + +"'The outfit is one of them little old jim-crow shows that charges +two-bits an' stays a month; an' by the end of the first day, me an' the +clown gets wropped up like brothers; which I'm like one of the fam'iy! +I fetches water an' he'ps rub hosses an', speakin' gen'ral, does more +nigger work than I ever crosses up with prior endoorin' my entire life. +But knowin' the clown pays for all; sech trivial considerations as +pullin' on tent ropes an' spreadin' sawdust disappears before the +honour of his a'quaintance. It's my knowin' the clown that leads to +disaster. + +"'This merrymaker, who's a "jocund wight" as Colonel Sterett says, gets +a heap drunk one evenin' 'an' sleeps out in the rain, an' he awakes as +hoarse as bull-frogs. He ain't able to sing his song in the ring. +It's jest before they begins. + +"'"Dan," he croaks, plenty dejected, "I wish you'd clown up an' go in +an' sing that song." + +"'This cantata he alloodes to, is easy; it's "Roll Jurdan, Roll," an' I +hears it so much at nigger camp meetin's an' sim'lar distractions, that +I carols it in my sleep. As the clown throws out his bluff I considers +awhile some ser'ous. I feels like mebby I've cut the trail of a +cunnin' idee. When Jule an' old Hickey an' the balance of them +Sni-a-bar outcasts sees me in a clown's yooniform, tyrannisin' about, +singin' songs an' leadin' up the war-jig gen'ral, they'll regret the +opinions they so freely expresses an' take to standin' about, hopin' +I'll bow. They'll regyard knowin' me as a boon. With that, I tells +the clown to be of good cheer. I'll prance in an' render that lay an' +his hoarseness won't prove no setback to the gaiety of nations. + +"'But I don't sing after all; an' I don't pile up Jule an' old Hickey +an' the sports of Sni-a-bar neither in any all 'round jumble of +amazement at my genius. + +"'"Dan," says the ring master when we're in the dressin' room, "when +the leapin' begins, you-all go on with the others an' do a somersault +or two?" + +"'"Shore!" I says. + +"'I feels as confidant as a kangaroo! Which I never does try it none; +but I supposes that all you has to do is hit the springboard an' let +the springboard do the rest. That's where I'm barkin' at a knot! + +"'This yere leapin' comes first on the bill. I ain't been in the ring +yet; the tumblin' business is where I makes my deeboo. I've got on a +white clown soote with big red spots, an' my face is all flour. I'm as +certain of my comin' pop'larity as a wet dog. I shore allows that when +Jule an' old Hickey observes my graceful agility an' then hears me +warble "Roll Jurdan, Roll," I'll make 'em hang their heads. + +"'The tumblin' is about to begin; the band's playin', an' all us +athletes is ranged Injun file along a plank down which we're to run. +I'm the last chicken on the roost. + +"'Even unto this day it's a subject of contention in circus cirkles as +to where I hits that springboard. Some claims I hits her too high up; +an' some says too low; for myse'f, I concedes I'm ignorant on the +p'int. I flies down the plank like a antelope! I hears the snarl of +the drums! I jumps an' strikes the springboard! + +"'It's at this juncture things goes queer. To my wonder I don't turn +no flip-flap, but performs like a draw-shot in billiards. I plants my +moccasins on the springboard; an' then instead of goin' on an' over a +cayouse who's standin' thar awaitin' sech events, I shoots back'ard +about fifteen foot an' lands in a ondistinguishable heap. An' as I +strikes a plank it smashes a brace of my ribs. + +"'For a second I'm blurred in my intellects. Then I recovers; an' as +I'm bein' herded back into the dressin' room by the fosterin' hands of +the ring master an' my pard, the clown, over in the audience I hears +Jule's silvery laugh an' her old pap allowin' he'd give a hoss if I'd +only broke my neck. Also, I catches a remark of old Hickey; "Which +that Boggs boy allers was a ediot!" says old Hickey.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +Bowlegs and Major Ben. + +"Which this yere Major Ben," remarked the Old Cattleman, "taken in +conjunction with his bosom pard, Billy Bowlaigs, frames up the only +casooalty which gets inaug'rated in Wolfville." + +"What!" I interjected; "don't you consider the divers killings,--the +death of the Stinging Lizard and the Dismissal of Silver Phil, to say +nothing of the taking off of the Man from Red Dog--don't you, I say, +consider such bloody matters casualties?" + +"No, sir," retorted my friend, emitting the while sundry stubborn puffs +of smoke, "no, sir; I regyards them as results. Tharfore, I reiterates +that this yere Major Ben an' Bowlaigs accomplishes between 'em the only +troo casooalty whereof Wolfville has a record." + +At this he paused and surveyed me with an eye of challenge; after a +bit, perceiving that I proposed no further contradiction, he went on: + +"This Billy Bowlaigs at first is a cub b'ar--a black cub b'ar: an' when +he grows up to manhood, so to speak, he's as big, an' mighty near as +strong physical, as Dan Boggs. Nacherally, however, Dan lays over +Bowlaigs mental like a ace-full. + +"It's Dave Tutt who makes Bowlaigs captive; Dave rounds Bowlaigs up in +his infancy one time when he's pesterin' about over in the foothills of +the Floridas lookin' for blacktail deer. Dave meets up with Bowlaigs +an' the latter's mother who's out, evident, on a scout for grub. +Bowlaig's mother has jest upturned a rotten pine-log to give little +Bowlaigs a chance to rustle some of these yere egreegious white worms +which looks like bald catapillars, that a-way, when all at once around +a p'int of rocks Dave heaves in view. This parent of Bowlaigs is as +besotted about her son as many hooman mothers; for while Bowlaigs +stands almost as high as she does an' weighs clost onto two hundred +pounds, the mother b'ar still has the idee tangled up in her +intelligence that Bowlaigs is that small an' he'pless, day-old kittens +is se'f-sustainin' citizens by compar'son to him. Actin' on these yere +errors, Bowlaig's mother the moment she glimpses Dave grabs young +Bowlaigs by the scruff of the neck an' goes caperin' off up hill with +him. An' to give that parent b'ar full credit, she's gettin' along all +right an' conductin' herse'f as though Bowlaigs don't heft no more than +one of them gooseha'r pillows, when, accidental, she bats pore Bowlaigs +ag'in the bole of a tree--him hangin' outen her mouth about three +foot--an' while the collision shakes that monarch of the forest some, +Bowlaigs gets knocked free of her grip an' goes rollin' down the +mountain-side ag'in like a sack of bran. It puts quite a crimp in +Bowlaigs. The mother b'ar, full of s'licitoode to save her offspring +turns, an' charges Dave; tharupon Dave downs her, an' young Bowlaigs +becomes a orphan an' a pris'ner on the spot. + +"Followin' the demise of Bowlaig's mother, Dave sort o' feels +reesponsible for the cub's bringin' up an' he ties him hand an' foot, +an' after peelin' the pelt from the old mother b'ar, packs the entire +outfit into camp. Dave's pony protests with green eyes ag'in carryin' +sech a freight, but Dave has his way as he usually does with everything +except Tucson Jennie. + +"At first Dave allows he'll let Bowlaigs live with him a whole lot an' +keep him ontil he grows up, an' construct a pet of him. But as I more +than once makes plain, Dave proposes but Tucson Jennie disposes; an' so +it befalls that on the third day after the cub takes up his residence +with her an' Dave, Jennie arms herse'f with a broom an' harasses the +onfortunate Bowlaigs from her wickeyup. Jennie declar's that she +discovers Bowlaigs organisin' to devour her child Enright Peets Tutt, +who's at that epock comin' three the next spring round-up. + +"'I could read it in that Bowlaigs b'ar's eyes,' says Jennie, 'an' it's +mighty lucky a parent's faculties is plumb keen. If I hadn't got in on +the play with my broom, you can bet that inordinate Bowlaigs would have +done eat little Enright Peets all up. + +"Shore, no one credits these yere apprehensions of Jennie's; Bowlaigs +would no more have chewed up Enright Peets than he'd played +table-stakes with him; but a fond mother's fears once stampeded is not +to be headed off or ca'med, an' Bowlaigs has to shift his camp a heap. + +"Bowlaigs takes up his abode on the heels of him bein' run out by +Tucson Jennie, over to the corral; that is, he bunks in thar temp'rary +at least. An' he shore grows amazin', an' enlarges doorin' the next +three months to sech a degree that when he stands up to the counter in +the Red Light, acceptin' of some proffered drink, Bowlaigs comes clost +to bein' as tall as folks. He early learns throughout his wakeful +moments--what I'd deescribe as his business hours--to make the Red +Light a hang-out; it's the nosepaint he's hankerin' after, for in no +time at all Bowlaigs accoomulates a appetite for rum that's a fa'r +match for that of either Huggins or Old Monte, an' them two sots is for +long known as far west as the Colorado an' as far no'th as the Needles +as the offishul drunkards of Arizona. No; Bowlaigs ain't equal to +pourin' down the raw nosepaint; but Black Jack humours his weakness an' +Bowlaigs is wont to take off his libations about two parts water to one +of whiskey an' a lump of sugar in the bottom, outen one of these big +tumbler glasses; meanwhiles standin' at the bar an' holdin' the glass +between his two paws an' all as ackerate an' steady as the most +talented inebriate. + +"'An' Bowlaigs has this distinction,' says Black Jack, alloodin' to the +sugar an' water; 'he's shore the only gent for whom I so far onbends +from reg'lar rools as to mix drinks.' + +"Existence goes flowin' onward like some glad sweet song for Bowlaigs +for mighty likely it's two months an' nothin' remarkable eventuates. +He camps in over to the corral, an' except that new ponies, who ain't +onto Bowlaigs, commonly has heart-failure at the sight of him, he don't +found no disturbances nor get in anybody's way. Throughout his wakin' +hours, as I su'gests former, Bowlaigs ha'nts about the Red Light, +layin' guileful an' cunnin' for invites to drink; an' he execootes +besides small excursions to the O.K. Restauraw for chuck, with now an' +then a brief journey to the Post Office or the New York store. These +visits of Bowlaigs to the last two places, both because he don't get no +letters at the post office an' don't demand no clothes at the store, I +attribootes to motives of morbid cur'osity, that a-way. + +"The first real trouble that meets up with Bowlaigs--who's got to be a +y'ar old by now--since Jennie fights the dooel with him with that +broom, overtakes him at the O.K. Restauraw. Missis Rucker for one +thing ain't over fond of Bowlaigs, allegin' as he grows older day by +day he looks more an' more like Rucker. Of course, sech views is +figments as much as the alarms of Tucson Jennie about Bowlaigs +meditatin' gettin' away with little Enright Peets; but Missis Rucker, +in spite of whatever we gent folks can say in Bowlaigs's behalf, +believes firm in her own slanders. She asserts that Bowlaigs as he +onfolds looks like Rucker; an' for her at least that settles the +subject an' she assoomes towards Bowlaigs attitoodes which, would +perhaps have been proper had her charge been troo. + +"Still, I'll say for that most esteemable lady, that Missis Rucker +never lays for Bowlaigs or assaults him ontil one afternoon when he +catches the dinin'-room deserted an' off its gyard an' goes romancin' +over, cat-foot an' surreptitious, an' cleans up the tables of what +chuck has been placed thar in antic'pation of supper. The first news +Missis Rucker has of the raid is when Bowlaigs gets a half-hitch on the +tablecloth an' winds up his play by yankin' the entire outfit of +spoons, tin plates an' crockery off onto the floor. It's then Missis +Rucker sallies from the kitchen an' puts Bowlaigs to flight. + +"Bowlaigs, who's plumb scared, comes lumberin' over to the Red Light +an' puts himse'f onder our protection. Enright squar's it for him; for +when Missis Rucker appears subsequent with a Winchester an' a knife an' +gives it out cold she's goin' to get Bowlaig's hide an' tallow an' sell +'em to pay even for that dinin'-room desolation of which he's the +architect, Enright counts up the damage an' pays over twenty-three +dollars in full settlement. Does Bowlaigs know it? You can gamble the +limit he knows it; for all the time Missis Rucker is prancin' about the +Red Light denouncin' him, he secretes himse'f, shiverin', behind the +bar; an' when that lady withdraws, mollified an' subdooed by the money, +he creeps out, Bowlaigs does, an' cries an' licks Enright's hand. Oh, +he's a mighty appreciative b'ar, pore Bowlaigs is; but his nerves is +that onstrung by the perils he passes through with Missis Rucker it +takes two big drinks to recover his sperits an' make him feel like the +same b'ar. It's Texas Thompson who buys the drinks: + +"'For I, of all gents, Bowlaigs,' says Texas, as he invites the +foogitive to the bar, 'onderstands what you-all's been through. It may +be imagination, but jest the same thar's them times when Missis Rucker +goes on the warpath when she reminds me a lot of my divorced Laredo +wife.' With that Texas pours a couple of hookers of Willow Run into +Bowlaigs, an' the latter is a heap cheered an' his pulse declines to +normal. + +"It's rum, however, which final is the deestruction of Bowlaigs, same +as it is of plenty of other good people who would have else lived in +honour an' died respected an' been tearfully planted in manner an' form +to do 'em proud. + +"Excloosive of that casooalty which marks his wind-up, an' which he +combines with Major Ben to commit, thar's but one action of Bowlaigs a +enemy might call a crime. He does prounce on a mail bag one evenin' +when the post-master ain't lookin', an' shore rends an' worrits them +letters scand'lous. + +"Yes, Bowlaigs gets arrested, an' the Stranglers sort o' convenes +informal to consider it. I allers remembers that session of the +Stranglers on account of Doc Peets an' Colonel William Greene Sterett +entertain' opp'site views an' the awful language they indulges in as +they expresses an' sets 'em forth. + +"'Which I claims that this Bowlaigs b'ar,' says Peets, combatin' a +suggestion of Dan Boggs who's sympathisin' with an' urges that Bowlaigs +is 'ignorant of law an' tharfore innocent of offence,' 'which I claims +that this Bowlaig b'ar is guilty of rustlin' the mails an' must an' +should be hanged. His ignorance is no defences, for don't each gent +present know of that aphorism of the law, _Ignoratis legia non +excusat_!' + +"Dan, nacherally, is enable to combat sech profound bluffs as this, an' +I'm free to confess if it ain't for Colonel Sterett buttin' in with +more Latin, the same bein' of equal cogency with that of Peet's, the +footure would have turned plenty dark an' doobious for Bowlaigs. As +Dan sinks back speechless an' played from Peet's shot, the Colonel, who +bein' eddicated like Peets to a feather aige is ondismayed an' cool, +comes to the rescoo. + +"'That law proverb you quotes, Doc,' says the Colonel, 'is dead +c'rrect, an' if argyment was to pitch its last camp thar, your +deductions that this benighted Bowlaigs must swing, would be +ondeniable. But thar's a element lackin' in this affair without which +no offence is feasible. The question is,--an' I slams it at you, Doc, +as a thoughtful eddicated sharp--does this yere Bowlaigs open them +letters an' bust into that mail bag _causa lucrae_? I puts this query +up to you-all, Doc, for answer. It's obv'ous that Bowlaigs ain't got +no notion of money bein' in them missives an' tharfore he couldn't have +been moved by no thoughts of gain. Wherefore I asserts that the deed +is not done _causa lucrae_, an' that the case ag'in this he'pless +Bowlaigs falls to the ground.' + +"Followin' this yere collision of the classics between two sech +scientists as Peets an' the Colonel, we-all can be considered as +hangin' mighty anxious on what reply Doc Peets is goin' to make. But +after some thought, Peets agrees with the Colonel. He admits that this +_causa lucrae_ is a bet he overlooks, an' that now the Colonel draws +his attention to it, he's bound to say he believes the Colonel to be +right, an' that Bowlaigs should be made a free onfettered b'ar ag'in. +We breathes easier at this, for the tension has been great, an' Dan +himse'f is that relieved he comes a heap clost to sheddin' tears. The +trial closes with the customary drinks; Bowlaigs gettin' his forty +drops with the rest, on the hocks of which he signalises his +reestoration to his rights an' freedom as a citizen by quilin' up in +his corner an' goin' to sleep. + +"But the end is on its lowerin' way for Bowlaigs. Thar's a senile +party who's packed his blankets into camp an' who's called 'Major Ben.' +The Major, so the whisper goes, used to be quartermaster over to Fort +Craig or Fort Apache, or mebby now it's Fort Cummings or some'ers; an' +he gets himse'f dismissed for makin' away with the bank-roll. Be that +as it may, the Major's plenty drunk an' military while he lasts among +us; an' he likewise has _dinero_ for whatever nosepaint an' food an' +farobank he sees fit to go ag'inst. From the jump the Major makes up +to Bowlaigs an' the two become pards. The Major allows he likes +Bowlaigs because he can't talk. + +"'Which if all my friends,' says the Major, no doubt alloodin' to them +witnesses ag'in him when he's cashiered, 'couldn't have talked no more +than Bowlaigs, I'd been happy yet.' + +"The Major's got a diminyootive wickeyup out to the r'ar of the corral, +an' him an' Bowlaigs resides tharin. This habitat of the Major an' +Bowlaigs ain't much bigger than a seegyar box; it's only eight foot by +ten, is made of barn-boards an' has a canvas roof. That's the kind of +ranch Bowlaigs an' the Major calls 'home'; the latter spreadin' his +blankets on one side while Bowlaigs sleeps on t'other on the board +floor, needin' no blankets, havin' advantage over the Major seein' he's +got fur. + +"The dispoote between Bowlaigs an' the Major which results in both of +'em cashin' in, gets started erroneous. The Major--who's sometimes too +indolent an' sometimes too drunk to make the play himse'f--instructs +Bowlaig how to go over to the Red Light an' fetch a bottle of rum. The +Major would chuck a silver dollar in a little basket, an' Bowlaigs +would take it in his mouth same as you-all has seen dogs, an' report +with the layout to Black Jack. That gent would make the shift, bottle +for dollar, an' Bowlaigs would reepair back ag'in to the Major, when +they'd both tank up ecstatic. + +"One mornin' after Bowlaigs an' the Major's been campin' together about +four months, they wakes up mighty jaded. They've had a onusual spree +the evenin' prior an' they feels like a couple of sore-head dogs. The +Major who needs a drink to line up for the day, gropes about in his +blankets, gets a dollar, pitches it into the basket an' requests +Bowlaigs to caper over for the Willow Run. Bowlaigs is nothin' loth; +but as he's about to pick up the basket, he observes that the dollar +has done bounced out an' fell through a crack in the floor. Bowlaigs +sees it through the same crack where it's layin' shinin' onder the +house. + +"Now this yere Bowlaigs is a mighty sagacious b'ar, also froogal, an' +so he goes wallowin' forth plenty prompt to recover the dollar. The +Major, who's ignorant of what's happened, still lays thar groanin' in +his blankets, feelin' like a loser an' nursin' his remorse. + +"The first p'inter the Major gets of a new deal in his destinies is a +grand crash as the entire teepee upheaves an' goes over, kerwallop! on +its side, hurlin' the Major out through the canvas. It's the +thoughtless Bowlaigs does it. + +"When Bowlaigs gets outside, he finds he can't crawl onder the teepee +none, seein' it's settin' too clost to the ground; an' tharupon, bein' +a one-ideed b'ar, he sort o' runs his right arm in beneath that edifice +an' up-ends the entire shebang, same as his old mother would a log when +she's grub-huntin' in the hills. Bowlaigs is pickin' up the dollar +when the Major comes swarmin' 'round the ruins of his outfit, a bowie +in his hand, an' him fairly locoed with rage. + +"Shore, thar's a fight, an' the Major gets the knife plumb to +Bowlaigs's honest heart with the first motion. But Bowlaigs quits +game; he turns with a warwhoop an' confers on the Major a swat that +would have broke the back of a bronco; an' then he dies with his teeth +in the Major's neck. + +"The Major only lives a half hour after we gets thar. An' it's to his +credit that he makes a statement exoneratin' Bowlaigs. 'I don't want +you-all gents,' says the Major, 'to go deemin' hard of this innocent +b'ar, for whatever fault thar is, is mine. Since Texas Thompson picks +up that dollar, this thing is made plain. What I takes for gratooitous +wickedness on Bowlaigs' part is nothin' but his efforts to execoote my +desires. Pore Bowlaigs! it embitters my last moments as I pictures +what must have been his opinions of me when I lams loose at him with +that knife! Bury us in one grave, gents; it'll save trouble an' show +besides that thar's no hard feelin's between me an' Bowlaigs over +what--an' give it the worst name--ain't nothin' but a onfortunate +mistake.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +Toad Allen's Elopement. + +"Four days after that pinfeather person," remarked the Old Cattleman, +while refilling his pipe, "four days after that pinfeather person gains +Old Man Enright's consent to make use of Wolfville as a pivotal p'int +in a elopement, him an' his loved one comes bulgin' into camp. They +floats over in one of these yere mountain waggons, what some folks +calls a 'buckboard'; the pinfeather person's drivin'. Between him an' +his intended--all three settin' on the one seat--perches a preacher +gent, who it's plain from the look in his eyes is held in a sort o' +captivity that a-way. What nacherally bolsters up this theory is that +the maiden's got a six-shooter in her lap. + +"'Which if thar's a wearied hectored gent in Arizona,' observes the +pinfeather party, as he descends outen the buckboard at the corral an' +tosses the reins to a hoss-hustler, 'you-all can come weavin' up an' +chance a yellow stack that I'm shore that gent.' + +"The preacher sharp, who's about as young an' new as the pinfeather +party, looks like he yoonites with him in them views. As they onload +themse'fs, the pinfeather person waves his hand to where we-all's +gathered to welcome 'em, an' says by way of introduction: + +"'Gents, yere's Abby; or as this Bible sport will say later in the +cer'mony, Abigail Glegg.' + +"Of course, we, who represents the Wolfville public, comports ourse'fs +as becomes gents of dignity, an' after takin' off our sombreros, plumb +p'lite, Enright su'gests the O.K. Restauraw as a base of op'rations. + +"'Don't you-all reckon,' says Enright to the pinfeather party, 'that +pendin' hostilities, Abby had better go over to Missis Rucker's? Thar +she gets combs an' breshes an' goes over her make-up an' straightens +out her game.' + +"The pinfeather party allows this yere is a excellent notion, only him +an' Abby don't seem cl'ar as to what oughter be done about the preacher +sharp. + +"'You see, he don't want to come,' explains the pinfeather party, 'an' +it's cost me an' Abby a heap of trouble to round him up. I ain't none +shore but he seizes on the first chance to go stampedin'; an' without +him these rites we-all is bankin' on would cripple down.' + +"'No, friends,' says the preacher sharp; 'I will promise to abide by +you an' embrace no openin' to escape. Since I'm here I will yoonite +you-all as you wish; the more readily because I trusts that as man an' +wife you'll prove a mootual restraint one upon the other; an' also for +that I deems you both in your single-footed capac'ty as a threat to the +commoonity. Fear not; prepare yourse'fs an' I'll bring you together in +the happy bonds of matrimony at the drop of the hat.' + +"'You notes, Dan,' says Texas Thompson, who's off to one side with Dan +Boggs, 'you notes he talks like his heart's resentful. Them culprits +has r'iled him up; an' now he allows that the short cut to play even is +to marry 'em as they deserves. Which if you-all knows that former wife +of mine, Dan, you'll appreciate what I says.' + +"Even after the preacher sharp gives his p'role, Abby acts plenty +doobious. She ain't shore it's wise to throw him loose. It's Doc +Peets who reasshores her. + +"'My dear young lady,' says Peets, at the same time bowin' to the +ground, 'you may trust this maverick with me. I'll pledge my word to +prodooce him at the moment when he's called for to make these nuptials +win.' + +"'Which I'm aheap obleeged to you, Mister,' says Abby to Peets, sizing +him up approvin'; 'an' now that I'm convinced thar's no chance of my +footure sufferin' from any absenteeism on the part of this pastor, I +reckons I better go over, like you-all hints, an' take a look or two in +the glass. It ain't goin' to consoome a moment, however,--this yere +titivation I plans; an' followin' said improvements we-all better pull +off this play some prompt. My paw,--old Ben Glegg,--is on our trail +not five miles behind; he'll land yere in half a hour an' I ain't none +convinced he won't land shootin'.' An' with this bluff, an' confidin' +the preacher sharp to Peets, Abby goes curvin' over to the O.K. +Restauraw. + +"However does this yere virgin look? Son, I hes'tates to deescribe a +lady onless the facts flows fav'rable for her. Which I'll take chances +an' lie a lot to say that any lady's beautiful, if you-all will only +give me so much as one good feacher to go on. But I'm powerless in the +instance of Abby. That's a blizzard effect to her face; an' the best +you can say is that if she don't look lovely, at least she looks +convincin'. The gnurliest pineknot burns frequent the hottest, an' you +can take my word for it, this Abby girl has sperit. Speakin' of her +appearance, personal, Missis Rucker--who's a fair jedge--allows later +to Enright that if Abby's a kyard in a faro game, she'd play her to +lose. + +"'Which she looks like a sick cat in the face, an' a greyhoun' in the +waist,' says Missis Rucker; 'an' I ain't got mortal use for no sech +spindlin' trollops as this yere Abby girl is, nohow.' + +"'I don't know,' says Enright, shakin' his head; 'I ain't been enriched +with much practical experience with women, but I reckons now it's love +that does it. Whoever is that gent, Peets, who says, "love is blind"? +He knows his business, that sport does, an' about calls the turn.' + +"'I ain't none so shore neither,' says Peets. 'Love may be blind, but +somehow, I don't sign up the play that way. Thar's plenty of people, +same as this pinfeather party, who discerns beauties in their +sweethearts that's veiled to you an' me.' + +"Of course, these yere discussions concernin' Abby's charms takes place +weeks later. On the weddin' day, Wolfville's too busy trackin' 'round +an' backin' Abby's game to go makin' remarks. In this connection, +however, it's only right to Abby to say that her pinfeather beau don't +share Missis Rucker's views. Although Abby done threatens him with a +gun-play to make him lead her to the altar that time her old paw +creases him, an' he begins to wax low-sperited about wedlock, still, +the pinfeather party's enamoured of Abby an' wropped up in her. + +"'Shore! says this pinfeather party to Texas Thompson, who, outen pity +for him, takes the bridegroom over to the Red Light, to be refreshed; +'shore! while thar's no one that egreegious to go claimin' that my +Abby's doo to grade as "cornfed," all the same she's one of the most +fascinatin' ladies,--that is, an' give her a gun,--in all the len'th +an' breadth of Arizona. I knows; for I've seen my Abby shoot.' + +"'Excoose me, pard,' says Texas, after surveyin' the pinfeather party +plenty sympathetic; 'pardon my seemin' roodness, if I confers with the +barkeep aside. On the level! now,' goes on Texas to Black Jack as he +pulls him off to a corner an' whispers so the pinfeather party don't +hear; 'on the level, Jack! ain't it my dooty--me who saveys what he's +ag'inst--to go warn this victim ag'in matrimony in all its horrors?' + +"'Don't you do it!' remonstrates Black Jack, an' his voice trembles +with the emphasis he feels; 'don't you do it none! You-all stand paws +off! Which you don't know what you'll be answerable for! If this yere +marriage gets broke off, who knows what new line of conduct this Abby +maiden will put out. She may rope onto Boggs, or Peets, or mebby even +me. As long as Abby ain't marryin' none of us, Wolfville's attitoode +oughter be one of dignified nootrality.' + +"Texas sighs deep an' sad as he turns ag'in to the pinfeather party; +but he sees the force of Black Jack's argyments an' yields without a +effort to combat 'em. + +"'After all,' says Texas bitterly to himse'f, 'others has suffered; +wherefore, then, should this jaybird gent escape?' An' with that, +Texas hardens his heart an' gives up any notion of the pinfeather +person's rescoo. + +"Which Abby now issues forth of the O.K. Restauraw an' j'ines the +pinfeather party when he emerges from the Red Light. + +"'This sky pilot,' says Dan Boggs, approachin' the happy couple, 'sends +word by me that he's over in the New York store. In deefault of a +shore-enough sanchooary, he allows he yootilises that depot of trade as +a headquarters; an' he's now waitin', all keyed up an' ready to turn +his little game. Likewise, he's been complainin' 'round some querulous +that you folks is harsh with him, an' abducts him an' threatens his +skelp.' + +"'Now, see thar!' ejac'lates Abby, liftin' up her hands. 'Does mortal +y'ears ever before listen to sech folly! I suppose he takes that gun I +has as threats! I'm a onprotected young female, an' nacherally, when I +embarks on this yere elopement, I packs one of paw's guns. Besides, +this sweetheart of mine might get cold feet, an' try to jump the game, +an' then I'd need said weepon to make good my p'sition. But it's never +meant for that pastor! When I'm talkin' to him to prevail on him to +come along, an' that gun in my hand at the time, I does sort o' make +references to him with the muzzle. But he needn't go gettin' +birdheaded over it; thar's nothin' hostile meant!' + +"'Enright explains to him satisfact'ry,' says Boggs. 'An' as you +urges, it don't mean nothin'. Folks on the brink of bein' married that +a-way gets so joyfully bewildered it comes mighty near the same as +bein' locoed.' + +"'Well,' says the pinfeather party, who's been stackin' up a dust-cloud +where some one's gallopin' along about three miles over on the trail, +'if I'm any dab at a guess that's your infuriated paw pirootin' along +over yonder, an' we better get these matrimonial hobbles on without +further onreasonable delays. That old murderer would plug me; an' no +more hes'tation than if I'm a coyote! But once I'm moved up into +p'sition as his son-in-law, a feelin' of nearness an' kinship mighty +likely op'rates to stay his hand. Blood's thicker than water, an' I'm +in a hurry to get reelated to your paw.' + +"But Enright has his notions of what's proper, an' he su'gests the +services be delayed ontil old Glegg gets in. Meanwhile he despatches +Jack Moore an' Dan Boggs as a gyard of honor to lead old Glegg to our +trystin' place in the New York store. + +"'An' the first thing you-all do, Jack,' says Enright, as Jack an' Dan +rides away, 'you get that outcast's guns.' + +"It ain't no more'n time for one drink when Jack an' Dan returns in +company of this Glegg. He's a fierce, gray old gent with a eye like a +wolf. Jest before he arrives, Enright advises the pinfeather person +an' the bride Abby, to go camp in the r'ar room so the sudden sight of +'em won't exasp'rate this parent Glegg to madness. + +"'Whatever's the meanin' of this yere concourse?' demands old Glegg, as +he comes into the New York store, an' p'intin' to where Peets an' Texas +an' Cherokee Hall, along with Enright, is standin' about; 'an' why does +these hold-ups'--yere he indicates Dan an' Jack,--'denoode me of my +hardware, I'd like to know?' + +"'These gents,' says Enright, 'is a quorum of that respectable body +known as the Wolfville Stranglers, otherwise a Vig'lance Committee; an' +your guns was took so as to redooce the chances of hangin' you--the +same bein' some abundant, nacheral,--to minimum. Now who be you? also, +what's your little game?' + +"'My name's Benjamin Glegg,' responds old Glegg. 'I owns the Sunflower +brand an' ranch. As for my game: thar's a member of my fam'ly escapes +this mornin'--comes streamin' over yere, I onderstands--an' I'm in the +saddle tryin' to round her up. Gents,' concloods old Glegg, an' he +displays emotion, 'I'm simply a harassed parent on the trail of his +errant offspring.' + +"Then Enright makes old Glegg a long, soft talk, an' seeks to imboo him +with ca'mness. He relates how Abby an' the pinfeather sport dotes on +each other; an' counsels old Glegg not to come pesterin' about with +roode objections to the weddin'. + +"'Which I says this as your friend,' remarks Enright. + +"'It's as the scripter says,' replies old Glegg, who's mollified a lot, +'it's as the good book says: A soft answer turneth away wrath; but more +speshully when the opp'sition's got your guns. I begins to see things +different. Still, I hates to lose my Abby that a-way. Since my old +woman dies, Abby, gents, has been the world an' all to me.' + +"'Is your wife dead?" asks Enright, like he sympathises. + +"'Shore!' says old Glegg; 'been out an' gone these two years. She's +with them cherubim in glory. But folks, you oughter seen her to +onderstand my loss. Five years ago we has a ranch over back of the +Tres Hermanas by the Mexico line. The Injuns used to go lopin' by our +ranch, no'th an' south, all the time. You-all recalls when they pays +twenty-five dollars for skelps in Tucson? My wife's that thrifty them +days that she buys all her own an' my child Abby's clothes with the +Injuns she pots. Little Abby used to scout for her maw. "Yere comes +another!" little Abby would cry, as she stampedes up all breathless, +her childish face aglow. With that, my wife would take her hands outen +the wash-tub, snag onto that savage with her little old Winchester, and +quit winner twenty-five right thar.' + +"'Which I don't marvel you-all mourns her loss,' says Enright +consolin'ly. + +"'She's shorely--Missis Glegg is--' says old Glegg, shakin' his grizzly +head; 'she's shore the most meteoric married lady of which hist'ry says +a word. My girl Abby's like her.' + +"'But whatever's your objection,' argues Enright, 'to this young an' +trusty sport who's so eager to wed Abby?' + +"'I objects to him because he gambles,' says old Glegg. 'I can see he +gambles by him pickin' up the salt cellar between his thumb an' middle +finger with the forefinger over the top like it's a stack of chips, one +evenin' when he stays to supper an' I asks him to "pass the salt." +Then ag'in, he don't drink; he tells me so himse'f when I invites him +to libate. I ain't goin' to have no teetotal son-in-law around, +over-powerin' me in a moral way; I'd feel criticised an' I couldn't +stand it, gents. Lastly, I don't like this yere felon's name none.' + +"'Whatever is his name, then?' asks Enright. 'So far he don't confide +no title to us.' + +"'An' I don't wonder none!' says old Glegg. 'It shows he's decent +enough to be ashamed. Thar's hopes of him yet. Gents, his name's Toad +Allen. "Allen" goes, but, gents, I flies in the air at "Toad." Do +you-all blame me? I asks you, as onbiased sports, would you set ca'mly +down while a party named "Toad" puts himse'f in nom'nation to be your +son-in-law?' + +"'None whatever!' says Jack Moore; an' Dan an' Cherokee an' Texas +echoes the remark. + +"'You-all camp down yere with a tumbler of Valley Tan,' says Enright, +'an' make yourse'f comfortable with my colleagues, while I goes an' +consults with our Gretna Green outfit in the r'ar room.' + +"Enright returns after a bit, an' his face has that air of +se'f-satisfaction that goes with a gent who's playin' on velvet. + +"'Your comin' son-in-law,' says Enright to old Glegg, 'defends himse'f +from them charges as follows: He agrees to quit gamblin'; he says he +lies a whole lot when he tells you-all he don't drink none; an' lastly, +deplorin' "Toad" as a cognomen, an' explainin' that he don't assoome it +of free choice but sort o' has it sawed off on him in he'pless infancy, +he offers--you consentin' to the weddin'--to reorganise onder the name +of "Benjamin Glegg Allen."' + +"Son, this yere last proposal wins over old Glegg in a body. He not +only withdraws all objections to the nuptials, but allows he'll make +the pinfeather sport an' Abby full partners in the Sunflower. At this +p'int, Enright notifies the preacher sharp that all depends on him; an' +that excellent teacher at once acquits himse'f so that in two minutes +Wolfville adds another successful weddin' to her list of triumphs. + +"'It 'lustrates too,' says Enright, when two days later the weddin' +party has returned to Tucson, an' Wolfville ag'in sinks to a normal +state of slumbrous ease, 'it sort o' 'lustrates how open to argyments a +gent is when once he's lost his weepons. Now if he isn't disarmed that +time, my eloquence wouldn't have had no more effect on old Glegg than +throwin' water on a drowned rat.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +The Clients of Aaron Green. + +"And so there were no lawyers in Wolfville?" I said. The Old Cattleman +filled his everlasting pipe, lighted it, and puffed experimentally. +There was a handful of wordless moments devoted to pipe. Then, as one +satisfied of a smoky success, he turned attention to me and my remark. + +"Lawyers in Wolfville?" he repeated. "Not in my day; none whatever! +It's mighty likely though that some of 'em's done come knockin' along +by now. Them jurists is a heap persistent, not to say diffoosive, an' +soon or late they shore trails into every camp. Which we'd have had +'em among us long ago, but nacherally, an' as far as argyments goes, we +turns 'em off. Se'f-preservation is a law of nacher, an' these maxims +applies to commoonities as much as ever they does to gents personal. +Wherefore, whenever we notices a law wolf scoutin' about an' tryin' to +get the wind on us, we employs our talents for lyin', fills him up with +fallacies, an' teaches him that to come to Wolfville is to put down his +destinies on a dead kyard; an' he tharupon abandons whatever of plans +he's harbourin' ag'in us, seein' nothin' tharin. + +"It's jest before I leaves for the East when one of these coyotes +crosses up with Old Man Enright in Tucson, an' submits the idee of his +professional invasion of our camp. + +"'Which I'm in the Oriental at the time,' says Enright, when he relates +about his adventure, 'an' this maverick goes to jumpin' sideways at me +in a friendly mood. Bein' I'm a easy-mannered sport with strangers, he +has no trouble gettin' acquainted. At last he allows that he aims to +pitch his teepee in Wolfville, hang out a shingle, an' plunge into +joorisprudence. "I was thinkin'," says he, "of openin' a joint for the +practice of law. As a condition prior advised by the barkeep, an' one +which also recommends itse'f to me as dictated of the commonest +proodence, I figgers on gainin' your views of these steps." + +"'"You does well," I replies, "to consult me on them p'ints. I sees +you're shore a jo-darter of a lawyer; for you handles the language like +a muleskinner does a blacksnake whip. But jest the same, don't for one +moment think of breakin' in on Wolfville. That outfit don't practice +law none; she practices facts. It offers no openin' for your game. +Comin' to Wolfville onder any conditions is ever a movement of gravity, +an onless a gent is out to chase cattle or dandle kyards or proposes to +array himse'f in the ranks of commerce by foundin' a s'loon, Wolfville +would not guarantee his footure any positive reward." + +"'"Then I jest won't come a whole lot," says this law sharp. Whereupon +we engages in mootual drinks an' disperses to our destinies.' + +"'What you tells this sport,' says Texas Thompson, who's listenin' to +Enright, 'echoes my sentiments exact. Anything to keep out law! It +ain't alone the jedgments for divorce which my wife grabs off over in +Laredo, but it comes to me as the frootes of a experience which has +been as wide as it has been plenty soon, that law is only another word +for trouble in egreegious forms.' + +"'So I decides,' retorts Enright. 'Still, I'm proud to be endorsed by +as good a jedge of public disorder an' its preventives as Texas +Thompson. Sech approvals ever tends to stiffen a gent's play. As I +states, I reeverses this practitioner an' heads him t'other way. +Wolfville is the home of friendly confidence; the throne of yoonity an' +fraternal peace. It must not be jeopardised. We-all don't want to +incur no resks by abandonin' ourse'fs to real shore-enough law. It +would debauch us: we'd get plumb locoed an' take to racin' wild an' +cimarron up an' down the range, an' no gent could foresee results. +It's better than even money, that with the advent of a law sharp into +our midst, historians of this hamlet would begin their last chapter. +They would head her: "Wolfville's Last Days." + +"'It's twenty years ago,' goes on Enright, 'while I'm that season in +Texas, that a sharp packs his blankets into Yellow City an' puts it up +he'll practice some law. No; he ain't wanted, but he never does give +no gent a chance to say so. He comes trackin' in onannounced, an' the +first we-all saveys, thar's his sign a-swingin', an' ashoorin' the +sports of Yellow City of the presence of + + AARON GREEN, ESQ. ATTORNEY-AT-LAW. + +"'Nobody gets excited; for while we agrees to prevail on him ultimately +to shift his camp a heap, the sityooation don't call for nothin' +preecipitate. In fact, the idee of him or any other besotted person +turnin' loose that a-way in Yellow City, strikes us as loodicrous. +Thar's nothing for a law-gent to do. I've met up with a heap of camps +in my day; an' I've witnessed the work of many a vig'lance committee; +but I'm yere to state that for painstakin' ardour an' a energy that +never sleeps, the Stranglers of Yellow City is a even break with the +best. They uses up a bale of half-inch rope a year; an' as for law an' +order an' a scene of fragrant peace, that outfit is comparable only +with flower gyardens on a quiet hazy August afternoon. + +"'This Aaron Green who prounces thus on Yellow City, intendin' to +foment litigations an' go ropin' 'round for fees, is plenty young; but +he's that grave an' dignified that owls is hilarious to him. One after +the other, he tackles us in a severe onmitigated way, an' shoves his +professional kyard onto each an' tells him that whenever he feels +ill-used to come a-runnin' an' have his rights preserved. Shore! the +boys meets this law person half way. They drinks with him an' fills +him up with licker an' fictions alternate, an' altogether regyards him +as a mighty yoomerous prop'sition. + +"'Also, observin' how tender he is, an' him takin' in their various +lies like texts of holy writ, they names him "Easy Aaron." Which he +don't look on "Easy Aaron" none too well as a title, an' insists on +bein' called "Jedge Green" or even "Squar' Green." But Yellow City +won't have it; she sticks to "Easy Aaron"; an' as callin' down the +entire camp offers prospects full of fever an' oncertainty, he at last +passes up the insult an' while he stays among us, pays no further heed. + +"'Doorin' the weeks he harbours with us, a gen'ral taste deevelops to +hear this Easy Aaron's eloquence. Thar's a delegation waits on him an' +requests Easy Aaron to come forth an' make a speech. We su'gests that +he can yootilise the Burnt Boot Saloon as a auditorium, an' offers as a +subject "Texas: her Glorious Past, her Glitterin' Present, an' her +Transcendent Footure!" + +"'"Thar's a topic!" says Shoestring Griffith to Easy Aaron--Shoestring +is the cha'rman of the committee,--"thar's a burnin' topic for you! +An' if you-all will only come surgin' over to the Burnt Boot right now +while you're warm for the event, I offers two to one you makes Cicero +look like seven cents." + +"'But Easy Aaron waves 'em arrogantly away. He declines to go barkin' +at a knot. He says it'll be soon enough to onbuckle an' swamp Yellow +City with a flood of eloquence when proper legal o'casion enfolds. + +"'In the room to the r'ar of the apartments where this Easy Aaron holds +forth as a practitioner, thar's a farobank as is nacheral enough. It's +about second drink time in the afternoon, bein' a time of day when the +faro game is dead. A passel of conspirators, with Shoestring Griffith +in the lead, goes to this room an' reelaxes into a game of draw. Easy +Aaron can hear the flutter of the chips through the partition--the same +bein' plenty thin--where he's camped like a spider in its web an' +waitin' for some sport who needs law to show up. Easy Aaron listens +careless an' indifferent to Shoestring an' his fellow blacklaigs as +they deals an' antes an' raises an' rakes in pots, an' everybody mighty +joobilant as is frequent over poker. + +"'Of a suddent, roars an' yells an' reecriminations yoosurps the place +of merriment. Then the guns! An' half the lead comes spittin' an' +splittin' through that intervenin' partition like she's kyardboard. +The bullets flies high enough to miss Easy Aaron, but low enough to +invoke a gloomy frame of mind. + +"'This yere artillery practice don't continyoo long before Yellow City +descends on Shoestring an' his band of homicides; an' when they've got +'em sorted out, thar's Billy Goodnight too defunct to skin, an' +Shoestring Griffith does it. + +"'Thar's no time lost; the Stranglers convenes in the Burnt Boot, an' +exact jestice stands on expectant tiptoe for its prey. But Shoestring +raises objections. + +"'"Which before ever you-all reptiles takes my innocent life," says +Shoestring, "I wants a lawyer. I swings off in style or I don't swing. +You hear me! send across for Easy Aaron. You can gamble, I'm going to +interpose a defense." + +"'"That's but right," says Waco Anderson who's the chief of the +Stranglers. "Assembled as we be to revenge the ontimely pluggin' of +the late Billy Goodnight, still this Shoestring may demand a even deal. +If some gent will ramble over an' round up Easy Aaron, as Shoestring +desires, it will be regyarded by the committee, an' this lynchin' can +then proceed." + +"'Easy Aaron is onearthed from onder his desk where he's still quiled +up, pale an' pantin', by virchoo of the bullets. Jim Wise, who goes +for him, explains that the shower is over; an' also that he's in +enormous demand to save Shoestring for beefin' Billy Goodnight. At +this, Easy Aaron gets up an' coughs 'round for a moment or two, +recoverin' his nerve; then he buttons his surtoot, assoomes airs of +sagacity, tucks the Texas Statootes onder his arm, reepairs to the +Burnt Boot an' allows he's ready to defend Shoestring from said charges. + +"'"But not onless my fees is paid in advance," says this Easy Aaron. + +"'At that, we-all passes the hat an' each chucks in a white chip or +two, an' when Waco Anderson counts up results it shows wellnigh +eighty-five dollars. Easy Aaron shakes his head like it's mighty +small; but he takes it an' casts himse'f loose. An', gents, he's shore +verbose! He pelts an' pounds that committee with a hailstorm of +observations, ontil all they can do is set thar an' wag their y'ears +an' bat their eyes. Waco Anderson himse'f allows, when discussin' said +oration later, that he ain't beheld nothin' so muddy an' so much since +the last big flood on the Brazos. + +"'After Easy Aaron holds forth for two hours, Waco preevails on him +with a six-shooter to pause for breath. Waco's tried twenty times to +get Easy Aaron to stop long enough to let the Stranglers get down a +verbal bet, but that advocate declines to be restrained. He treats +Waco's efforts with scorn an' rides him down like he, Easy Aaron, is a +bunch of cattle on a stampede. Thar's no headin' or holdin' him ontil +Waco, in desperation, takes to tyrannisin' at him with his gun. + +"'"It's this," says Waco, when Easy Aaron's subdooed. "If the eminent +gent will quit howlin' right yere an' never another yelp, the committee +is willin' to throw this villain Shoestring loose. Every one of us is +a slave to dooty, but we pauses before personal deestruction in a awful +form. Billy Goodnight is gone; ondoubted his murderer should win the +doom meted out for sech atrocities; but dooty or no dooty, this +committee ain't called on to be talked to death in its discharge. +Yellow City makes no sech demands of its servants; wherefore, I +repeats, that if this Easy Aaron sits mute where he is, we agrees to +cut Shoestring's bonds an' restore him to that freedom whereof he makes +sech florid use." + +"'At this, Easy Aaron stands up, puffs out his chest, bows to Waco an' +the others, an' evolves 'em a patronisin' gesture signifyin' that their +bluff is called. Shoestring Griffith is saved. + +"'Doorin' the subsequent line-up at the bar which concloods the +ceremonies, Easy Aaron waxes indignant an' is harrowed to observe Billy +Goodnight imbibin' with the rest. + +"'"I thought you-all dead!" says Easy Aaron, in tones of wrathful +reproach. + +"'"Which I was dead," says Billy, sort o' apol'getic, "but them words +of fire brings me to." + +"'Easy Aaron don't make no answer, but as he jingles the fee the sour +look relaxes. + +"'As I remarks, Easy Aaron ain't with us over long. Yellow City is +that much worse off than Wolfville that she has a little old 'doby +calaboose that's been built since the old Mexico days. Thar's no +shore-enough jedge an' jury ever comes to Yellow City; an' if the +kyards was so run that we has a captive which the Stranglers deems +beneath 'em, he would be drug 'way over yonder to some county seat. +It's but fair to say that no sech contretemps presents itse'f up to the +advent of Easy Aaron; an' while thar's now an' then a small +accoomulation of felons doorin' sech seasons as the boys is off on the +ranges or busy with the roundups, thar never fails to come a clean-up +in plenty of time. The Stranglers comes back; jestice resoomes her +sway, an' the calaboose is ag'in as empty as a church. + +"'It befalls, however, that doorin' the four or five weeks to follow +the acquittal of that homicide Shoestring, an' while Waco Anderson an' +a quorum of the committee is away teeterin' about in their own affairs, +the calaboose gets filled up with two white men and either four or five +Mexicans--I can't say the last for shore, as I ain't got a good mem'ry +for Mexicans. These parties is held for divers malefactions from +shootin' up a Greaser dance-hall to stealin' a cow over on the +Honeymoon. + +"'To his joy, Easy Aaron is reetained to defend this crim'nal herd. +It's shore pleasant to watch him! I never sees the sport who's that +proudly content. Easy Aaron visits these yere clients of his every +day; an' when he has time, he walks out onto the plains so far that +you-all can't hear his tones, an' rehearses the speeches he's aimin' to +make when he gets them cut-throats before a jury. We-all could see him +prancin' up an' down, tossin' his hands an' all in the most locoed way. +As I states, he's too far off to be heard none; but he's in plain view +from the front windows of the Burnt Boot, an' we-all finds them antics +plumb divertin.' + +"'"These cases," says Easy Aaron to me, for he's that happy an' +enthoosiastic he's got to open up on some gent; "these cases is bound +to fix my fame as the modern Demosthenes. You knows how eloquent I am +about Shoestring? That won't be a marker to the oration I'll frame up +for these miscreants in the calaboose. For why? Shoestring's time I +ain't organised; also, I'm more or less shook by the late bullets +buzzin' an' hummin' like a passel of bloo-bottle flies about my office. +But now will be different. I'll be ready, an' I'll be in a cool +frenzy, the same bein' a mood which is excellent, partic'lar if a gent +is out to break records for rhetoric. I shore regyards them +malefactors as so many rungs for my clamberin' up the ladder of fame." +An' with that this Easy Aaron goes pirootin' forth upon the plains +ag'in to resoome his talking at a mark. + +"'It's mebby a week after this exultation of Easy Aaron's, an' Waco +Anderson an' the others is in from the ranges. Yellow City is onusual +vivacious an' lively. You-all may jedge of the happy prosperity of +local feelin' when I assoores you that the average changed in at +farobank each evenin' ain't less than twenty thousand dollars. As for +Easy Aaron, he's goin' about in clouds of personal an' speshul delight. +It's now crowdin' along towards the time when him an' his clients will +adjourn over to that county seat an' give Easy Aaron the opportoonity +to write his name on the deathless calendars of fame. + +"'But black disapp'intment gets Easy Aaron squar' in the door. One +morning he reepairs to the calaboose to consult with the felons on +whose interests he's ridin' herd. Horror seizes him; he finds the +cells as vacant as a echo. + +"'"Where's these clients?" asks Easy Aaron, while his face grows white. + +"'"Vamosed!" says the Mexican who carries the calaboose keys; an' with +that he turns in mighty composed, to roll a cigarette. + +"'"Vamoosed, where at?" pursoos Easy Aaron. + +"'"_Por el inferno_!" says the Mexican; he's got his cigarette lighted, +an' is puffin' as contented as hoss-thieves. "See thar, _Amigo_!" goes +on the Greaser, indicatin' down the street. + +"'Easy Aaron gazes where the Mexican p'ints, an' his heart turns to +water. Thar swayin' an' swingin' like tassels in the mornin' breeze, +an' each as dead as Gen'ral Taylor, he beholds his entire docket +hangin' to the windmill. Easy Aaron approaches an' counts 'em up. +Which they're all thar! The Stranglers shorely makes a house cleanin'. +As Easy Aaron looks upon them late clients, he wrings his hands. + +"'"Thar hangs fame!" says Easy Aaron; "thar hangs my chance of +eminence! That eloquence, wherewith my heart is freighted, an' which +would have else declar'd me the Erskine of the Brazos, is lynched with +my clients." Then wheelin' on Waco Anderson who strolls over, Easy +Aaron demands plenty f'rocious: "Whoever does this dastard deed?" + +"'"Which this agitated sport," observes Waco coldly to Shoestring +Griffith, who comes loungin' up likewise, "asks whoever does these yere +dastard deeds! Does you-all recall the fate, Shoestring, of the last +misguided shorthorn who gives way to sech a query? My mem'ry is never +ackerate as to trifles, an' I'm confoosed about whether he's shot or +hung or simply burned alive." + +"'"That prairie dog is hanged a lot," says Shoestring. "Which the boys +was goin' to burn him, but on its appearin' that he puts the question +more in ignorance than malice, they softens on second thought to that +degree they merely gets a rope, adds him to the windmill with the +others, an' lets the matter drop." + +"'Easy Aaron don't crowd his explorations further. He can see thar's +what you-all might call a substratum of seriousness to the observations +of Waco an' Shoestring, an' his efforts to solve the mystery that +disposes of every law case he has, an' leaves him to begin life anew, +comes to a halt! + +"'But it lets pore Easy Aaron out. He borrys a hoss from the corral, +packs the Texas Statootes an' his extra shirt in the war-bags, an' with +that the only real law wolf who ever makes his lair in Yellow City, +p'ints sadly no'thward an' is seen no more. As he's about to ride +away, Easy Aaron turns to me. He's sort o' got the notion I ain't so +bad as Waco, Shoestring, an' the rest. "I shall never return," says +Easy Aaron, an' he shakes his head plenty disconsolate. "Genius has no +show in Yellow City. This outfit hangs a gent's clients as fast as +ever he's retained an' offers no indoocements--opens no opportoonities, +to a ambitious barrister."'" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +Colonel Sterett Relates Marvels. + +"As I asserts frequent," observed the Old Cattleman, the while +delicately pruning a bit of wood he'd picked up on his walk, "the funds +of information, gen'ral an' speshul, which Colonel William Greene +Sterett packs about would freight a eight-mule team. It's even money +which of 'em saveys the most, him or Doc Peets. For myself, after +careful study, I inclines to the theery that Colonel Sterett's +knowledge is the widest, while Peets's is the most exact. Both is +college gents; an' yet they differs as to the valyoo of sech +sem'naries. The Colonel coppers colleges, while Peets plays 'em to win. + +"'Them temples of learnin',' says the Colonel, 'is a heap ornate; but +they don't make good.' This is doubted by Peets. + +"One evenin' Dan Boggs, who's allers tantalisin' 'round askin' +questions--it looks like a sleepless cur'osity is proned into +Dan--ropes at Peets concernin' this topic: + +"'Whatever do they teach in colleges, Doc?' asks Dan. + +"'They teaches all of the branches," retorts Peets. + +"'An' none of the roots,' adds Colonel Sterett, 'as a cunnin' Yank once +remarks on a o'casion sim'lar.' + +"No, the Colonel an' Peets don't go lockin' horns in these differences. +Both is a mighty sight too well brought up for that; moreover, they +don't allow to set the camp no sech examples. They entertains too high +a regyard for each other to take to pawin' about pugnacious, verbal or +otherwise. + +"The Colonel's information is as wide flung as a buzzard's wing. +Thar's mighty few mysteries he ain't authorised to eloocidate. An' +from time to time, accordin' as the Colonel's more or less in licker, +he enlightens Wolfville on a multitoode of topics. Which the Colonel +is a profound eddicational innocence; that's whatever! + +"It's one evenin' an' the moon is swingin' high in the bloo-black +heavens an' looks like a gold doorknob to the portals of the eternal +beyond. Texas Thompson fixes his eyes tharon, meditative an' pensive, +an' then he wonders: + +"'Do you-all reckon, now, that folks is livin' up thar?' + +"'Whatever do you think yourse'f, Colonel?' says Enright, passin' the +conundrum over to the editor of the _Coyote_. 'Do you think thar's +folks on the moon?' + +"'Do I think thar's folks on the moon?' repeats the Colonel as ca'mly +confident as a club flush. 'I don't think,--I knows.' + +"'Whichever is it then?' asks Dan Boggs, whose ha'r already begins to +bristle, he's that inquisitive. 'Simply takin' a ignorant shot in the +dark that away, I says, "No." That moon looks like a mighty lonesome +loominary to me.' + +"'Jest the same,' retorts the Colonel, an' he's a lot dogmatic, 'that +planet's fairly speckled with people. An' if some gent will recall the +errant fancies of Black Jack to a sense of dooty, I'll onfold how I +knows. + +"'It's when I'm crowdin' twenty,' goes on the Colonel, followin' the +ministrations of Black Jack, 'an' I'm visitin' about the meetropolis of +Looeyville. I've been sellin' a passel of runnin' hosses; an' as I +rounds up a full peck of doubloons for the fourteen I disposes of, I'm +feelin' too contentedly cunnin' to live. It's evenin' an' the moon is +shinin' same as now. I jest pays six bits for my supper at the Galt +House, an' lights a ten cent seegyar--Oh! I has the bridle off all +right!--an' I'm romancin' leesurly along the street, when I encounters +a party who's ridin' herd on one of these yere telescopes, the same +bein' p'inted at the effulgent moon. Gents, she's shorely a giant +spy-glass, that instrooment is; bigger an' longer than the smokestack +of any steamboat between Looeyville an' Noo Orleans. She's swung on a +pa'r of shears; each stick a cl'ar ninety foot of Norway pine. As I +goes pirootin' by, this gent with the telescope pipes briskly up. + +"'"Take a look at the moon?" + +"'"No," I replies, wavin' him off some haughty, for that bag of +doubloons has done puffed me up. "No, I don't take no interest in the +moon." + +"'As I'm comin' back, mebby it's a hour later, this astronomer is still +swingin' an' rattlin' with the queen of night. He pitches his lariat +ag'in an' now he fastens. + +"'"You-all better take a look; they're havin' the time of their c'reers +up thar." + +"'"Whatever be they doin'?" + +"'"Tellin' wouldn't do no good," says the savant; "it's one of them +rackets a gent has to see to savey." + +"'"What's the ante?" I asks, for the fires of my cur'osity begins to +burn. + +"'"Four bits! An' considerin' the onusual doin's goin' for'ard, it's +cheaper than corn whiskey." + +"'No; I don't stand dallyin' 'round, tryin' to beat this philosopher +down in his price. That ain't my style. When I'm ready to commit +myse'f to a enterprise, I butts my way in, makes good the tariff, an' +no delays. Tharfore, when this gent names four bits, I onpouches the +_dinero_ an' prepares to take a astronomic peek. + +"'"How long do I gaze for four bits?" I asks, battin' my right eye to +get it into piercin' shape. + +"'"Go as far as you likes," retorts the philosopher; "thar's no limit." + +"'Gents,' says the Colonel, pausin' to renoo his Valley Tan, while Dan +an' Texas an' even Old Man Enright hitches their cha'rs a bit nearer, +the interest is that intense; 'gents, you-all should have took a squint +with me through them lenses. Which if you enjoys said privilege, you +can gamble Dan an' Texas wouldn't be camped 'round yere none tonight, +exposin' their ignorance an' lettin' fly croode views concernin' +astronomy. That telescope actooally brings the moon plumb into +Kaintucky;--brings her within the reach of all. You could stretch to +her with your hand, she's that clost.' + +"'But is thar folks thar?' says Dan, who's excited by the Colonel's +disclosures. 'Board the kyard, Colonel, an' don't hold us in suspense." + +"'Folks!' returns the Colonel. 'I wishes I has two-bit pieces for +every one of 'em! The face of that orb is simply festered with folks! +She teems with life; ant-hills on election day means desertion by +compar'son. Thar's thousands an' thousands of people, mobbin' about +indiscrim'nate; I sees 'em as near an' plain as I sees Dan.' + +"'An' whatever be they doin'?' asks Dan. + +"'They're pullin' off a hoss race,' says the Colonel, lookin' steady in +Dan's eye. 'An' you hears me! I never sees sech bettin' in my life.' + +"Nacherally we-all feels refreshed with these experiences of Colonel +Sterett's, for as Enright observes, it's by virchoo of sech casooal +chunks of information that a party rounds out a eddication. + +"'It ain't what a gent learns in schools,' says Enright, 'that broadens +him an' stiffens his mental grip; it's knowledge like this yere moon +story from trustworthy sources that augments him an' fills him full. +Go on, Colonel, an' onload another marvel or two. You-all must shore +have witnessed a heap!' + +"'Them few sparse facts touchin' the moon,' returns Colonel Sterett, +'cannot be deemed wonders in any proper sense. They're merely +interestin' details which any gent gets onto who brings science to his +aid. But usin' the word "wonders," I does once blunder upon a mir'cle +which still waits to be explained. That's a shore-enough marvel! An' +to this day, all I can state is that I sees it with these yere eyes.' + +"'Let her roll!' says Texas Thompson. 'That moon story prepares us for +anything.' + +"'Texas,' observes the Colonel, a heap severe, 'I'd hate to feel that +your observations is the jeerin' offspring of distrust.' + +"'Me distrust!' replies Texas, hasty to squar' himse'f. 'I'd as soon +think of distrustin' that Laredo divorce of my former he'pmeet! An' as +the sheriff drives off two hundred head of my cattle by way of alimony, +I deems the fact of that sep'ration as fixed beyond cavil. No, +Colonel, you has my fullest confidence. I'd go doubtin' the evenhanded +jestice of Cherokee's faro game quicker than distrustin' you.' + +"'An' I'm present to say,' returns the Colonel mighty complacent, 'that +I looks on sech assoorances as complimentary. To show which I +onhesitatin'ly reels off that eepisode to which I adverts. + +"'I'm only a child; but I retains my impressions as sharp cut an' cl'ar +as though she happens yesterday. It's a time when one of these +legerdemain sharps pastes up his bills in our village an' lets on he'll +give a show in Liberty Hall on the comin' Saturday evenin'. An' gents, +to simply read of the feats he threatens to perform would loco you! +Besides, thar's a picture of Satan, black an' fiery an' frightful, +where he's he'pin' this gifted person to foist said mir'cles upon the +age. I don't exaggerate none when I asserts that the moment our +village gets its eye on these three-sheets it comes to a dead halt. + +"'Old Squar' Alexanders is the war chief of the hamlet, an' him an' the +two other selectmen c'llects themse'fs over their toddies an' canvasses +whether they permits this wizard to give his fiendish exhibitions in +our midst. They has it pro an' con ontil the thirteenth drink, when +Squar' Alexanders who's ag'in the wizard brings the others to his +views; an' as they staggers forth from the tavern it's the yoonanimous +decision to bar that Satan-aided show. + +"'"Witches, wizards, elves, gnomes, bull-beggars, fiends, an' devils is +debarred the Bloo Grass Country," says Squar' Alexanders, speakin' for +himse'f an' his fellow selectmen, "an' they're not goin' to be allowed +to hold their black an' sulphurous mass meetin's yere." + +"'It comes Saturday evenin' an' the necromancer is in the tavern eatin' +his supper. Shore! he looks like common folks at that! Squar' +Alexanders is waitin' for him in the bar. When he shows up, carelessly +pickin' his teeth, it's mebby half a hour before the show, Squar' +Alexanders don't fritter away no time, but rounds up the wizard. + +"'"Thar's no show which has Satan for a silent partner goin' to cut +itse'f loose in this village," says Squar' Alexanders. + +"'"What's this talk about Satan?" responds the wizard. "I don't savey +no more about Satan than I does about you." + +"'"Look at them bills," says Squar' Alexanders, an' he p'ints to where +one is hangin' on the barroom wall. It gives a picture of the foul +fiend, with pitchfork, spear-head tail an' all. "Whatever do you call +that?" + +"'"That's a bluff," says the wizard. "If Kaintucky don't get tangled +up with Satan ontil I imports him to her fertile shores, you cimmarons +may regyard yourse'fs as saved." + +"'"Be you-all goin' to do the sundry deeds you sets forth in the +programmes?" asks Squar' Alexanders after a pause. + +"'"Which I shorely be!" says the wizard, "an' if I falls down or fails +you can call me a ab'litionist." + +"'"Then all I has to say is this," returns Squar' Alexanders; "no gent +could do them feats an' do 'em on the level. You'd have to have the +he'p of demons to pull em off. An' that brings us back to my first +announcement; an' stranger, your show don't go." + +"'At this the wizard lets on he's lost patience with Squar' Alexanders +an' declares he won't discuss with him no more. Also, he gives it out +that, Satan, or no Satan, he'll begin to deal his game at eight o'clock. + +"'"Very well!" rejoins Squar' Alexanders. "Since you refooses to be +warned I shall shore instruct the constable to collar you on the steps +of Liberty Hall." As he says this, Squar' Alexanders p'ints across to +Chet Kishler, who's the constable, where he's restin' hhnse'f in front +of Baxter's store. + +"'This yere Chet is a giant an' clost onto eight foot high. It's a +warm evenin', an' as the wizard glances over at Chet, he notices how +that offishul is lazily fannin' himse'f with a barn-door which he's +done lifted off the hinges for that coolin' purpose. The wizard don't +say nothin', but he does turn a mite pale; he sees with half a eye that +Satan himse'f would be he'pless once Chet gets his two paws on him. +However, he assoomes that he's out to give the show as per schedoole. + +"'It's makin' toward eight when the wizard lights a seegyar, drinks +four fingers of Willow Run, an' goes p'intin' out for Liberty Hall. +Chet gets up, hangs the barn-door back on its hinges, an' sa'nters +after. Squar' Alexanders has posted Chet as to his dooties an' his +orders is to prounce on the necromancer if he offers to enter the hall. +That's how the cavalcade lines up: first, the wizard; twenty foot +behind is Chet; an' twenty foot behind our constable comes the public +in a body. + +"'About half way to Liberty Hall the wizard begins to show nervous an' +oncertain. He keeps lookin' back at Chet; an' even in my childish +simplicity I sees that he ain't pleased with the outlook. At last he +weakens an' abandons his idee of a show. Gents, as I fills my glass, I +asks you-all however now do you reckon that wizard beats a retreat?' + +"Thar's no reply. Dan, Texas, an' the others, while Colonel Sterett +acquires his licker, shakes their heads dumbly as showin' they gives it +up. + +"'Which you'd shorely never guess!' retorts the Colonel, wipin' his +lips. 'Of a sudden, this wizard tugs somethin' outen his pocket that +looks like a ball of kyarpet-rags. Holdin' one end, quick as thought +he tosses the ball of kyarpet-rags into the air. It goes straight up +ontil lost to view, onwindin' itse'f in its flight because of the +wizard holdin' on. + +"'Gents, that ball of kyarpet-rags never does come down no-more! An' +it's all done as easy as a set-lock rifle! The wizard climbs the +danglin' string of kyarpet-rags, hand over hand; then he drifts off an' +up'ards ontil he don't look bigger than a bumble-bee; an' then he's +lost in the gatherin' shadows of the Jooly night. + +"'Squar' Alexanders, Chet, an' the village stands strainin' their eyes +for twenty minutes. But the wizard's vamosed; an' at last, when each +is convinced tharof, the grown folks led by Squar' Alexanders reepairs +back into the tavern an' takes another drink.' + +"'That's a mighty marvellous feat your necromancer performs, Colonel,' +remarks Enright, an' the old chief is grave as becomes the Colonel's +revelations; 'he's a shore-enough wonder-worker, that wizard is!' + +"But I ain't got to the wonders none as yet,' reemonstrates the +Colonel, who spunks up a bit peevish for him. 'An' from the frequent +way wherein I'm interrupted, it don't look much like I will. Goin' +sailin' away into darklin' space with that ball of enchanted +kyarpet-rags,--that ain't the sooper-nacheral part at all! Shore! +ondoubted it's some hard to do as a feat, but still thar's other +feachers which from the standp'int of the marvellous overpowers it like +four kings an' a ace. That wonder is this: It's quarter to eight when +the wizard takes his flight by means of the kyarpet-rags. Gents, at +eight o'clock sharp the same evenin' he walks on the stage an' gives a +show at St. Looey, hundreds of miles away.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +The Luck of Hardrobe. + +"Which I tells this yere narrative first, back in one of them good old +Red Light evenin's when it's my turn to talk." + +The Old Cattleman following this remark, considered me for a moment in +silence. I had myself been holding the floor of discussion in a way both +rambling and pointless for some time. I had spoken of the national +fortune of Indians, their superstitions, their ill-luck, and other savage +subjects various and sundry. My discourse had been remarkable perhaps +for emphasis rather than accuracy; and this too held a purpose. It was +calculated to rouse my raconteur and draw him to a story. Did what I say +lack energy, he might go to sleep in his chair; he had done this more +than once when I failed of interest. Also, if what I told were wholly +true and wanting in ripple of romantic error, even though my friend did +me the compliment of wakefulness, he would make no comment. Neither was +he likely to be provoked to any recital of counter experiences. At last, +however, he gave forth the observation which I quote above and I saw that +I had brought him out. I became at once wordless and, lighting a cigar, +leaned back to listen. + +"As I observes," he resumed, following a considerable pause which I was +jealous to guard against word or question of my own; "I tells this tale +to Colonel Sterett, Old Man Enright, an' the others one time when we're +restin' from them Wolfville labours of ours an' renooin' our strength +with nosepaint in the Red Light bar. Jest as you does now, Dan Boggs +takes up this question of luck where Cherokee Hall abandons it, an' +likewise the subject of savages where Texas Thompson lays 'em down, an' +after conj'inin' the two in fashions I deems a heap weak, allows that +luck is confined strictly to the paleface; aborigines not knowin' +sufficient to become the target of vicissitoodes, excellent or otherwise. + +"'Injuns is too ignorant to have what you-all calls "luck,"' says Dan. +'That gent who's to be affected either up or down by "luck" has got to +have some mental cap'bilities. An' as Injuns don't answer sech +deescriptions, they ain't no more open to "luck" than to enlight'ment. +"Luck" an' Injuns when took together, is preepost'rous! It's like +talkin' of a sycamore tree havin' luck. Gents, it ain't in the deck!' +An' tharupon Dan seals his views by demandin' of Black Jack the bottle +with glasses all 'round. + +"'When it comes to that, Boggs,' says Colonel Sterett, as he does Dan +honour in four fingers of Valley Tan, 'an' talkin' of luck, I'm yere to +offer odds that the most poignant hard-luck story on the list is the +story of Injuns as a race. An' I won't back-track their game none +further than Columbus at that. The savages may have found life a +summer's dream prior to the arrival of that Eytalian mariner an' the +ornery Spainiards he surrounds himse'f with. But from the looks of the +tabs, the deal since then has gone ag'inst 'em. The Injuns don't win +once. White folks, that a-way, is of themse'fs bad luck incarnate to +Injuns. The savage never so much as touches 'em or listens to 'em or +imitates 'em, but he rots down right thar. Which the pale-face shorely +kills said Injuns on the nest! as my old grand-dad used to say.' + +"'When I recalls the finish of Hardrobe,' I remarks, sort o' cuttin' into +the argyment, the same bein' free an' open to all, 'an' I might add by +way of a gratootity in lines of proof, the finish of his boy, Bloojacket, +I inclines to string my chips with Colonel Sterett.' + +"'Give us the details concernin' this Hardrobe,' says Doc Peets. 'For +myse'f, I'm prone an' eager to add to my information touchin' Injuns at +every openin'.' + +"As Enright an' the rest makes expression sim'lar, I proceeds to +onbuckle. I don't claim much for the tale neither. Still, I wouldn't +copper it none for it's the trooth, an' the trooth should allers be +played 'open' every time. I'll tell you-all this Hardrobe story as I +onfolds it to them." + +It was here my friend began looking about with a vaguely anxious eye. I +saw his need and pressed the button. + +"I was aimin' to summon my black boy, Tom," he said. + +When a moment later his favourite decanter appeared in the hands of one +of the bar-boys of the hostelry, who placed it on a little table at his +elbow and withdrew, the necessity for "Tom" seemed to disappear, and +recurring to Hardrobe, he went on. + +"Hardrobe is a Injun--a Osage buck an' belongs to the war clan of his +tribe. He's been eddicated East an' can read in books, an' pow-wows +American mighty near as flooent as I does myse'f. An' on that last p'int +I'll take a chance that I ain't tongue-tied neither. + +"Which this yere is a long time ago. Them is days when I'm young an' +lithe an' strong. I can heft a pony an' I'm six foot two in my +moccasins. No, I ain't so tall by three inches now; old age shortens a +gent up a whole lot. + +"My range is on the south bank of Red River--over on the Texas side. +Across on the no'th is the Nation--what map folks call the 'Injun +Territory.' In them epocks we experiences Injuns free an' frequent, as +our drives takes us across the Nation from south to no'th the widest way. +We works over the old Jones an' Plummer trail, which thoroughfare I +alloodes to once or twice before. I drives cattle over it an' I freights +over it,--me an' my eight-mule team. An' I shorely knows where all the +grass an' wood an' water is from the Red River to the Flint Hills. + +"Speakin' of the Jones an' Plummer trail, I once hears a dance-hall girl +who volunteers some songs over in a Tucson hurdygurdy, an' that maiden +sort o' dims my sights some. First, she gives us _The Dying Ranger_, the +same bein' enough of itse'f to start a sob or two; speshul when folks is, +as Colonel Sterett says, 'a leetle drinkin'.' Then when the public +clamours for more she sings something which begins: + + "'Thar's many a boy who once follows the herds, + On the Jones an' Plummer trail; + Some dies of drink an' some of lead, + An' some over kyards, an' none in bed; + But they're dead game sports, so with naught but good words, + We gives 'em "Farewell an' hail."' + +"Son, this sonnet brings down mem'ries; and they so stirs me I has to +_vamos_ that hurdygurdy to keep my emotions from stampedin' into tears. +Shore, thar's soft spots in me the same as in oilier gents; an' that +melody a-makin' of references to the old Jones an' Plummer days comes +mighty clost to meltin' everything about me but my guns an' spurs. + +"This yere cattle business ain't what it used to be; no more is +cow-punchers. Things is gettin' effete. These day it's a case of chutes +an' brandin' pens an' wire fences an' ten-mile pastures, an' thar's so +little ropin' that a boy don't have practice enough to know how to catch +his pony. + +"In the times I'm dreamin' of all this is different. I recalls how we +frequent works a month with a beef herd, say of four thousand head, out +on the stark an' open plains, ropin' an' throwin' an' runnin' a +road-brand onto 'em. Thar's a dozen different range brands in the bunch, +mebby, and we needs a road-brand common to 'em all, so in case of +stampedes on our trip to the no'th we knows our cattle ag'in an' can pick +'em out from among the local cattle which they takes to minglin' with. +It's shorely work, markin' big strong steers that-away! Throwin' a +thousand-pound longhorn with a six hundred-pound cayouse is tellin' on +all involved an' a gent who's pitchin' his rope industrious will wear +down five broncos by sundown. + +"It's a sharp winter an' cattle dies that fast they simply defies the +best efforts of ravens an' coyotes to get away with the supply. It's +been blowin' a blizzard of snow for weeks. The gales is from the no'th +an' they lashes the plains from the Bad Lands to the Rio Grande. When +the storm first prounces on the cattle up yonder in the Yellowstone +country, the he'pless beasts turns their onprotestin' tails and begins to +drift. For weeks, as I remarks, that tempest throws itse'f loose, an' +night an' day, what cattle keeps their feet an' lives, comes driftin' on. + +"Nacherally the boys comes with 'em. Their winter sign-camps breaks up +an' the riders turns south with the cattle. No, they can't do nothin'; +you-all couldn't turn 'em or hold 'em or drive 'em back while the storm +lasts. But it's the dooty of the punchers to keep abreast of their +brands an' be thar the moment the blizzard abates. + +"It's shore a spectacle! For a wild an' tossin' front of five hundred +miles, from west to east, the storm-beat herds comes driftin'. An' +ridin' an' sw'arin' an' plungin' about comes with 'em the boys on their +broncos. They don't have nothin' more'n the duds on their backs, an' +mebby their saddle blankets an' slickers. But they kills beef to eat as +they needs it, an' the ponies paws through the snow for grass, an' they +exists along all right. For all those snow-filled, wind-swept weeks +they're ridin' an' cussin'. They comes spatterin' through the rivers, +an' swoopin' an' whoopin' over the divides that lays between. They +crosses the Heart an' the Cannon Ball an' the Cheyenne an' the White an' +the Niobrara an' the Platte an' the Republican an' the Solomon an' the +Smoky an' the Arkansaw, to say nothin' of the hundreds of forks an' +branches which flows an' twines an' twists between; an' final, you runs +up on boys along the Canadian who's come from the Upper Missouri. An' as +for cattle! it looks like it's one onbroken herd from Fort Elliot to +where the Canadian opens into the Arkansaw! + +"The chuck waggons of a thousand brands ain't two days behind the boys, +an' by no time after that blizzard simmers, thar's camp-fires burnin' an' +blinkin' between the Canadian an' the Red all along from the Choctaw +country as far west as the Panhandle. Shore, every cow-puncher makes for +the nearest smoke, feeds up an' recooperates; and then he with the others +begins the gatherin' of the cattle an' the slow northern drive of the +return. Which the spring overtakes 'em an' passes 'em on it's way to the +no'th, an' the grass is green an' deep before ever they're back on their +ranges ag'in. + +"It's a great ride, says you? Son, I once attends where a lecture sharp +holds forth as to Napoleon's retreat from Moscow. As was the proper +thing I sets silent through them hardships. But I could, it I'm disposed +to become a disturbin' element or goes out to cut loose cantankerous an' +dispootatious in another gent's game, have showed him the French +experiences that Moscow time is Sunday school excursions compared with +these trips the boys makes when on the breath of that blizzard they +swings south with their herds. Them yooths, some of 'em, is over eight +hundred miles from their home-ranch; an' she's the first an' only time I +ever meets up with a Yellowstone brand on the Canadian. + +"You-all can put down a bet I'm no idle an' listless looker-on that +blizzard time; an' I grows speshul active at the close. It behooves us +Red River gents of cattle to stir about. The wild hard-ridin' +knight-errants of the rope an' spur who cataracts themse'fs upon us with +their driftin' cattle doorin' said tempest looks like they're plenty +cap'ble of drivin' our steers no'th with their own, sort o' makin' up the +deeficiencies of the storm. + +"I brands over four thousand calves the spring before, which means I has +at least twenty thousand head,--or five times what I +brands--skallihootin' an' hybernatin' about the ranges. An' bein' as +you-all notes some strong on cattle, an' not allowin' none for them +Yellowstone adventurers to drive any of 'em no'th, I've got about 'leven +outfits at work, overhaulin' the herds an' round-ups, an' ridin' round +an' through 'em, weedin' out my brand an' throwin' 'em back on my Red +River range. I has to do it, or our visitin' Yellowstone guests would +have stole me pore as Job's turkey. + +"Whatever is a 'outfit' you asks? It's a range boss, a chuck waggon with +four mules an' a range cook, two hoss hustlers to hold the ponies, eight +riders an' a bunch of about seventy ponies--say seven to a boy. These +yere 'leven outfits I speaks of is scattered east an' west mebby she's +a-hundred miles along the no'th fringe of my range, a-combin' an' +a-searchin' of the bunches an' cuttin' out all specimens of my brand when +found. For myse'f, personal, I'm cavortin' about on the loose like, +stoppin' some nights at one camp' an' some nights at another, keepin' +cases on the deal. + +"It's at one of my camps one evenin' when I crosses up first with this +yere Hardrobe. His boy, Bloojacket, is with him. Hardrobe himse'f is +mebby goin' on fifty, while Bloojacket ain't more'n say twenty-one. +Shore, they're out for cattle, too; them savages has a heap of cattle, +an' since they finds their brands an' bunches same as the rest of us all +tangled up with the Yellowstone aliens doorin' the blizzard, Hardrobe an' +his boy Bloojacket rides up an' asks can they work partners with a outfit +of mine. + +"As I explains previous I'm averse to Injuns, but this Hardrobe is a +onusual Injun; an' as he's settin' in ag'inst a stiff game the way things +is mixed up, an' bein' only him an' his boy he's too weak to protect +himse'f, I yields consent, I yields the more pleasant for fear,--since I +drives through the Osage country now an' then--this Hardrobe an' his heir +plays even by stampedin' my cattle some evenin' if I don't. Thar's +nothin' like a dash of se'f-interest to make a gent urbane, an' so I +invites Hardrobe an' Bloojacket to make my camp their headquarters like +I'd been yearnin' for the chance. + +"As you-all must have long ago tracked up on the information, it's +sooperfluous for me to su'gest that a gent gets used to things. Moreover +he gets used frequent to things that he's born with notions ag'inst; an' +them aversions will simmer an' subside ontil he's friendly with folks he +once honed to shoot on sight. It turns out that a-way about me an' this +Hardrobe an' his boy Bloojacket. What he'ps, no doubt, is they're +capar'soned like folks, with big hats, bloo shirts, trousers, +cow-laiggin's, boots an' spurs, fit an' ready to enter a civilised +parlour at the drop of the handkerchief. Ceasin' to rope for reasons, +however, it's enough to say these savages an' me waxes as thick as +m'lasses. Both of 'em's been eddicated at some Injun school which the +gov'ment--allers buckin' the impossible, the gov'ment is,--upholds in its +vain endeavours to turn red into white an' make folks of a savage. + +"Bloojacket is down from the Bad Land country himself not long prior, +bein' he's been servin' his Great Father as one of Gen'ral Crook's scouts +in the Sittin' Bull campaign. This young Bloojacket,--who's bubblin' +over with sperits--has a heap of interestin' stories about the 'Grey +Fox.' It's doo to Bloojacket to say he performs them dooties of his as a +scout like a clean-strain sport, an' quits an' p'ints back for the +paternal camp of Hardrobe in high repoote. Thar's one feat of fast hard +ridin' that Injun performs, which I hears from others, an' which you-all +might not find oninterestin' if I saws it onto you. + +"Merritt with three hundred cavalry marches twenty-five miles one +mornin'. Thar's forty Injun scouts along, among 'em this Bloojacket; +said copper-hued auxiliaries bein' onder the command of Gen'ral Stanton, +as game an' good a gent as ever packs a gun. It's at noon; Merritt an' +his outfit camps at the Rawhide Buttes. Thar's a courier from Crook +overtakes 'em. He says that word comes trailin' in that the Cheyennes at +the Red Cloud agency is makin' war medicine an' about to go swarmin' off +to hook up with Sittin' Bull an' Crazy Hoss in the Sioux croosades. +Crook tells Merritt to detach a band of his scouts to go flutterin' over +to Red Cloud an' take a look at the Cheyennes's hand. + +"Stanton tells off four of his savages an' lines out with them for the +Red Cloud agency; Bloojacket bein' one. From the Rawhide Buttes to the +Red Cloud agency is one hundred even miles as a bullet travels. What +makes it more impressive, them one hundred miles is across a trailless +country, the same bein' as rocky as Red Dog whiskey an' rough as the life +story of a mule. Which Stanton, Bloojacket an' the others makes her in +twelve hours even, an' comes up, a crust of dust an' sweat, to the Red +Cloud agency at midnight sharp. The Cheyennes has already been gone +eight hours over the Great Northern trail. + +"Stanton, who's a big body of a man an' nacherally tharfore some +road-weary, camps down the moment he's free of the stirrups an' writes a +letter on the agency steps by the light of a lantern. He tells Merritt +to push on to the War Bonnet an' he'll head the Cheyennes off. Then he +sends the Red Cloud interpreter an' four local Injuns with lead hosses to +pack this information back to Merritt who's waitin' the word at the +Rawhide Buttes. Bloojacket, for all he's done a hundred miles, declar's +himse'f in on this second excursion to show the interpreter the way. + +"'But you-all won't last through,' says Stanton, where he sets on the +steps, quaffin' whiskey an' reinvig'ratin' himse'f. + +"'Which if I don't, I'll turn squaw!' says Bloojacket, an' gettin' fresh +hosses with the others he goes squanderin' off into the midnight. + +"Son, them savages, havin' lead hosses, rides in on Merritt by fifth +drink time or say, 'leven o'clock that mornin';--one hundred miles in +'leven hours! An' Bloojacket some wan an' weary for a savage is +a-leadin' up the dance. Mighty fair ridin' that boy Bloojacket does! +Two hundred miles in twenty-three hours over a clost country ain't bad! +Which it's me who says so: an' one time an' another I shore shoves plenty +of scenery onder the hoofs of a cayouse myse'f. + +"About the foogitive Cheyennes? Merritt moves up to the War Bonnet like +Stanton su'gests, corrals 'em, kills their ponies an' drives 'em back to +the agency on foot. Thar's nothin' so lets the whey outen a hoss-back +Injun like puttin' him a-foot: an the Cheyennes settles down in sorrow +an' peace immediate. + +"While Hardrobe an' his boy Bloojacket is with me, I'm impressed +partic'lar by the love they b'ars each other. I never does cut the trail +of a father an' son who gives themse'fs up to one another like this +Hardrobe an' his Bloojacket boy. I can see that Bloojacket regyards old +Hardrobe like he's the No'th Star; an' as for Hardrobe himse'f, he can't +keep his eyes off that child of his. You'd have had his life long before +he'd let you touch a braid of Bloojacket's long ha'r. Both of 'em's +plenty handsome for Injuns; tall an' lean an' quick as coyotes, with +hands an' feet as little as a woman's. + +"While I don't go pryin' 'round this Hardrobe's private affairs--savages +is mighty sensitive of sech matters--I learns, incidental, that Hardrobe +is fair rich. He's rich even for Osages; an' they're as opulent savages +as ever makes a dance or dons a feather. Later, I finds out that +Hardrobe's squaw--Bloojacket's mother--is dead. + +"'See thar?' says Hardrobe one day. We're in the southern border of the +Osage country on the Grayhoss at the time, an' he p'ints to a heap of +stones piled up like a oven an' chimley, an' about four foot high. I +saveys thar's a defunct Osage inside. You-all will behold these little +piles of burial stones on every knoll an' hill in the Osage country. +'See thar,' says this Hardrobe, p'intin'. 'That's my squaw. Mighty good +squaw once; but heap dead now.' + +"Then Hardrobe an' Bloojacket rides over an' fixes a little flag they've +got in their war-bags to a pole which sticks up'ards outen this tomb, +flyin' the ensign as Injuns allers does, upside down. + +"It's six months later, mebby--an' it's now the hard luck begins--when I +hears how Hardrobe weds a dance-hall girl over to Caldwell. This +maiden's white; an' as beautiful as a flower an' as wicked as a +trant'ler. Hardrobe brings her to his ranch in the Osage country. + +"The next tale I gets is that Bloojacket, likewise, becomes a victim to +the p'isenous fascinations of this Caldwell dance-hall damsel, an' that +him an' Hardrobe falls out; Hardrobe goin' on the warpath an' shootin' +Bloojacket up a lot with a Winchester. He don't land the boy at that; +Bloojacket gets away with a shattered arm. Also, the word goes that +Hardrobe is still gunnin' for Bloojacket, the latter havin' gone onder +cover some'ers by virchoo of the injured pinion. + +"As Colonel Sterett says, these pore aborigines experiences bad luck the +moment ever they takes to braidin' in their personal destinies with a +paleface. I don't blame 'em none neither. I sees this Caldwell seraph +on one o'casion myse'f; she's shore a beauty! an' whenever she throws the +lariat of her loveliness that a-way at a gent, she's due to fasten. + +"It's a month followin' this division of the house of Hardrobe when I +runs up on him in person. I encounters him in one of the little jim-crow +restauraws you-all finds now an' then in the Injun country. Hardrobe an' +me shakes, an' then he camps down ag'in at a table where he's feedin' on +fried antelope an' bakin' powder biscuit. + +"I'm standin' at the counter across the room. Jest as I turns my back, +thar's the crack! of a rifle to the r'ar of the j'int, an' Hardrobe +pitches onto the floor as dead as ever transpires in that tribe. In the +back door, with one arm in a sling, an' a gun that still smokes, ca'm an' +onmoved like Injuns allers is, stands Bloojacket. + +"'My hand is forced,' he says, as he passes me his gun; 'it's him or me! +One of us wore the death-mark an' had to go.' + +"'Couldn't you-all have gone with Crook ag'in?' I says. 'Which you don't +have to infest this yere stretch of country. Thar's no hobbles or +sidelines on you; none whatever!' + +"Bloojacket makes no reply, an' his copper face gets expressionless an' +inscrootable. I can see through, however; an' it's the hobbles of that +Caldwell beauty's innocence that's holdin' him. + +"Bloojacket walks over to where Hardrobe's layin' dead an' straightens +him round--laigs an' arms--an' places his big white cow hat over his +face. Thar's no more sign of feelin', whether love or hate, in the eyes +of Bloojacket while he performs these ceremonies than if Hardrobe's a +roll of blankets. But thar's no disrespects neither; jest a great +steadiness. When he has composed him out straight, Bloojacket looks at +the remainder for mebby a minute. Then he shakes his head. + +"'He was a great man,' says Bloojacket, p'intin' at his dead father, with +his good hand; 'thar's no more like him among the Osages.' + +"Tharupon Bloojacket wheels on the half-breed who runs the deadfall an' +who's standin' still an' scared, an' says: + +"'How much does he owe?' Then he pays Hardrobe's charges for antelope +steaks an' what chuck goes with it, an' at the close of these fiscal +op'rations, remarks to the half-breed--who ain't sayin' no more'n he can +he'p,--'Don't touch belt nor buckle on him; you-all knows me!' An' I can +see that half-breed restauraw party is out to obey Bloojacket's mandates. + +"Bloojacket gives himse'f up to the Osages an' is thrown loose on p'role. +But Bloojacket never gets tried. + +"A week rides by, an' he's standin' in front of the agency, sort o' +makin' up some views concernin' his destinies. He's all alone; though +forty foot off four Osage bucks is settin' together onder a cottonwood +playin' Injun poker--the table bein' a red blanket spread on the +grass,--for two bits a corner. These yere sports in their blankets an' +feathers, an' rifflin' their greasy deck, ain't sayin' nothin to +Bloojacket an' he ain't sayin' nothin' to them. Which jest the same +these children of nacher don't like the idee of downin' your parent none, +an' it's apparent Bloojacket's already half exiled. + +"As he stands thar roominatin,' with the hot August sun beatin' down, +thar's a atmosphere of sadness to go with Bloojacket. But you-all would +have to guess at it; his countenance is as ca'm as on that murderin' +evenin' in the half-breed's restauraw. + +"Bloojacket is still thar, an' the sports onder the cottonwood is still +gruntin' joyously over their poker, when thar comes the patter of a +bronco's hoofs. Thar's a small dust cloud, an' then up sweeps the +Caldwell beauty. She comes to a pull-up in front of Bloojacket. That +savage glances up with a inquirin' eye an' the glance is as steady as the +hills about him. The Caldwell beauty--it seems she disdains mournin'--is +robed like a rainbow; an' she an' Bloojacket, him standin', she on her +bronco, looks each other over plenty intent. + +"Which five minutes goes by if one goes by, an' thar the two stares into +each other's eyes; an' never a word. The poker bucks keeps on with their +gamble over onder the cottonwood, an' no one looks at the two or seems +like they heeds their existence. The poker savages is onto every move; +but they're troo to the Injun idee of p'liteness an' won't interfere with +even so much as the treemor of a eyelash with other folks's plays. + +"Bloojacket an' the Caldwell beauty is still gazin'. At last the +Caldwell beauty's hand goes back, an' slow an' shore, brings to the front +a eight-inch six-shooter. Bloojacket, with his eye still on her an' +never a flicker of feelin', don't speak or move. + +"The Caldwell beauty smiles an' shows her white teeth. Then she lays the +gun across her left arm, an' all as solid as a church. Her pony's gone +to sleep with his nose between his knees; an' the Caldwell beauty settles +herse'f in the saddle so's to be ready for the plunge she knows is +comin'. The Caldwell beauty lays out her game as slow an' delib'rate as +trees; Bloojacket lookin' on with onwinkin' eye, while the red-blanket +bucks plays along an' never a whisper of interest. + +"'Which this yere pistol overshoots a bit!' says the Caldwell beauty, as +she runs her eye along the sights. 'I must aim low or I'll shore make +ragged work.' + +"Bloojacket hears her, but offers no retort; he stands moveless as a +stachoo. Thar's a flash an' a crash an' a cloud of bloo smoke; the +aroused bronco makes a standin' jump of twenty foot. The Caldwell beauty +keeps her saddle, an' with never a swerve or curve goes whirlin' away up +the brown, burnt August trail, Bloojacket lays thar on his face; an' +thar's a bullet as squar' between the eyes as you-all could set your +finger-tip. Which he's dead--dead without a motion, while the poker +bucks plays ca'mly on." + +My venerable friend came to a full stop. After a respectful pause, I +ventured an inquiry. + +"And the Caldwell beauty?" I said. + +"It ain't a week when she's ag'in the star of that Caldwell hurdygurdy +where she ropes up Hardrobe first. Her laugh is as loud an' as' free, +her beauty as profoundly dazzlin' as before; she swings through twenty +quadrilles in a evenin' from 'Bow-to-your-partners' to +'All-take-a-drink-at-the-bar'; an' if she's preyed on by them Osage +tragedies you shore can't tell it for whiskey, nor see if for powder an' +paint." + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +Colonel Coyote Clubbs. + +"Which as a roole," said the Old Cattleman, "I speaks with deference +an' yields respects to whatever finds its source in nacher, but this +yere weather simply makes sech attitoode reedic'lous, an' any encomiums +passed thar-on would sound sarkastic." Here my friend waved a +disgusted hand towards the rain-whipped panes and shook his head. +"Thar's but one way to meet an' cope successful with a day like this," +he ran on, "an' that is to put yourse'f in the hands of a joodicious +barkeep--put yourse'f in his hands an' let him pull you through. +Actin' on this idee I jest despatches my black boy Tom for a pitcher of +peach an' honey, an', onless you-all has better plans afoot, you might +as well camp an' wait deevelopments, same as old man Wasson does when +he's treed by the b'ar." + +Promptly came the peach and honey, and with its appearance the pelting +storm outside lost power to annoy. My companion beamingly did me +honour in a full glass. After a moment fraught of silence and peach +and honey, and possibly, too, from some notion of pleasing my host with +a compliment, I said: "That gentleman with whom you were in converse +last evening told me he never passed a more delightful hour than he +spent listening to you. You recall whom I mean?" + +"Recall him? Shore," retorted my friend as he recurred to the pitcher +for a second comforter. "You-all alloodes to the little gent who's +lame in the nigh hind laig. He appeals to me, speshul, as he puts me +in mind of old Colonel Coyote Clubbs who scares up Doc Peets that time. +Old Coyote is lame same as this yere person." + +"Frighten Peets!" I exclaimed, with a great air; "you amaze me! Give +me the particulars." + +"Why, of course," he replied, "I wouldn't be onderstood that Peets is +terrorised outright. Still, old Colonel Coyote shore stampedes him an' +forces Peets to fly. It's either _vamos_ or shoot up pore Coyote; an' +as Peets couldn't do the latter, his only alternative is to go +scatterin' as I states. + +"This yere Coyote has a camp some ten miles to the no'th an' off to one +side of the trail to Tucson. Old Coyote lives alone an' has built +himse'f a dugout--a sort o' log hut that's half in an' half outen the +ground. His mission on earth is to slay coyotes--'Wolfin'' he calls +it--for their pelts; which Coyote gets a dollar each for the furs, an' +the New York store which buys 'em tells Coyote to go as far as he +likes. They stands eager to purchase all he can peel offen them +anamiles. + +"No; Coyote don't shoot these yere little wolves; he p'isens 'em. +Coyote would take about twelve foot, say, of a pine tree he's cut +down--this yere timber is mebby eight inches through--an' he'll bore in +it a two-inch auger hole every two foot. These holes is some deep; +about four inches it's likely. Old Coyote mixes his p'isen with beef +tallow, biles them ingredients up together a lot, an' then, while she's +melted that a-way, he pours it into these yere auger holes an' lets it +cool. It gets good an' hard, this arsenic-tallow does, an' then Coyote +drags the timber thus reg'lated out onto the plains to what he regyards +as a elegible local'ty an' leaves it for the wolves to come an' batten +on. Old Coyote will have as many as a dozen of these sticks of timber, +all bored an' framed up with arsenic-tallow, scattered about. Each +mornin' while he's wolfin', Coyote makes a round-up an' skins an' +counts up his prey. An' son, you hear me! he does a flourishin' trade. + +"Why don't Coyote p'isen hunks of meat you asks? For obvious reasons. +In sech events the victim bolts the piece of beef an' lopes off mebby +five miles before ever he succumbs. With this yere augur hole play +it's different. The wolf has to lick the arsenic-tallow out with his +tongue an' the p'isen has time an' gets in its work. That wolf sort o' +withers right thar in his tracks. At the most he ain't further away +than the nearest water; arsenic makin' 'em plenty thirsty, as you-all +most likely knows. + +"Old Coyote shows up in Wolfville about once a month, packin' in his +pelts an' freightin' over to his wickeyup whatever in the way of grub +he reckons he needs. Which, if you was ever to see Coyote once, you +would remember him. He's shore the most egreegious person, an' in +appearance is a cross between a joke, a disaster an' a cur'osity. I +don't reckon now pore Coyote ever sees the time when he weighs a +hundred pound; an' he's grizzled an' dried an' lame of one laig, while +his face is like a squinch owl's face--kind o' wide-eyed an' with a +expression of ignorant wonder, as if life is a never-endin' surprise +party. + +"Most likely now what fixes him firmest in your mind is, he don't drink +none. He declines nosepaint in every form; an' this yere abstinence, +the same bein' yoonique in Wolfville, together with Coyote conductin' +himse'f as the p'litest an' best-mannered gent to be met with in all of +Arizona, is apt to introode on your attention. Colonel Sterett once +mentions Coyote's manners. + +"'Which he could give Chesterfield, Coyote could, kyards an' spades,' +observes the Colonel. I don't, myse'f, know this Chesterfield none, +but I can see by the fashion in which Colonel Sterett alloodes to him +that he's a Kaintuckian an' a jo-darter on manners an' etiquette. + +"As I says, a pecooliar trait of Coyote is that he won't drink nothin' +but water. Despite this blemish, however, when the camp gets so it +knows him it can't he'p but like him a heap. He's so quiet an' honest +an' ignorant an' little an' lame, an' so plumb p'lite besides, he grows +on you. I can almost see the weasened old outlaw now as he comes +rockin' into town with his six or seven burros packed to their y'ears +with pelts! + +"This time when Coyote puts Doc Peets in a toomult is when he's first +pitched his dug-out camp an' begins to honour Wolfville with his +visits. As yet none of us appreciates pore Coyote at his troo worth, +an' on account of them guileless looks of his sech humourists as Dan +Boggs an' Texas Thompson seizes on him as a source of merriment. + +"It's Coyote's third expedition into town, an' he's hoverin' about the +New York store waitin' for 'em to figger up his wolf pelts an' cut out +his plunder so he freights it back to his dug-out. Dan an' Texas is +also procrastinatin' 'round, an' they sidles up allowin' to have their +little jest. Old Coyote don't know none of 'em--quiet an' sober an' +p'lite like I relates, he's slow gettin' acquainted--an' Dan an' Texas, +as well as Doc Peets, is like so many onopened books to him. For that +matter, while none of them pards of mine knows Coyote, they manages to +gain a sidelight on some of his characteristics before ever they gets +through. Doc Peets later grows ashamed of the part he plays, an' two +months afterwards when Coyote is chewed an' clawed to a standstill by a +infooriated badger which he mixes himse'f up with, Peets binds him up +an' straightens out his game, an' declines all talk of recompense +complete. + +"'It's merely payin' for that outrage I attempts on your feelin's when +you rebookes me so handsome,' says Peets, as he turns aside Coyote's +_dinero_ an' tells him to replace the same in his war-bags. + +"However does Coyote get wrastled by that badger? It's another yarn, +but at least she's brief an' so I'll let you have it. Badgers, you +saveys, is sour, sullen, an' lonesome. An' a badger's feelin's is +allers hurt about something; you never meets up with him when he ain't +hostile an' half-way bent for war. Which it's the habit of these yere +morose badgers to spend a heap of their time settin' half in an' half +outen their holes, considerin' the scenery in a dissatisfied way like +they has some grudge ag'inst it. An' if you approaches a badger while +thus employed he tries to run a blazer on you; he'll show his teeth an' +stand pat like he meditates trouble. When you've come up within thirty +feet he changes his mind an' disappears back'ard into his hole; but all +malignant an' reluctant. + +"Now, while Coyote saveys wolves, he's a heap dark on badgers that +a-way. An' also thar's a badger who lives clost to Coyote's dug-out. +One day while this yere ill-tempered anamile is cocked up in the mouth +of his hole, a blinkin' hatefully at surroundin' objects. Coyote cuts +down on him with a Sharp's rifle he's got kickin' about his camp an' +turns that weepon loose. + +"He misses the badger utter, but he don't know it none. Comin' to the +hole, Coyote sees the badger kind o' quiled up at the first bend in the +burrow, an' he exultin'ly allows he's plugged him an' tharupon reaches +in to retrieve his game. That's where Coyote makes the mistake of his +c'reer; that's where he drops his watermelon! + +"That badger's alive an' onhurt an' as hot as a lady who's lost money. +Which he's simply retired a few foot into his house to reconsider +Coyote an' that Sharp's rifle of his. Nacherally when the ontaught +Coyote lays down on his face an' goes to gropin' about to fetch that +badger forth the latter never hes'tates. He grabs Coyote's hand with +tooth and claw, braces his back ag'in the ceilin' of his burrow an' +stands pat. + +"Badgers is big people an' strong as ponies too. An' obdurate! Son, a +badger is that decided an' set in his way that sech feather-blown +things as hills is excitable an' vacillatin' by comparison. This yere +particular badger has the fam'ly weaknesses fully deeveloped, an' the +moment he cinches onto Coyote, he shore makes up his mind never to let +go ag'in in this world nor the next. + +"As I tells you, Coyote is little an' weak, an' he can no more move +that hardened badger, nor yet fetch himse'f loose, than he can sprout +wings an' soar. That badger's got Coyote; thar he holds him prone an' +flat ag'in the ground for hours. An' at last Coyote swoons away. + +"Which he'd shore petered right thar, a prey to badgers, if it ain't +for a cowpuncher--he's one of Old Man Enright's riders--who comes +romancin' along an' is attracted to the spot by some cattle who's +prancin' an' waltzin' about, sizin' Coyote up as he's layin' thar, an' +snortin' an' curvin' their tails in wonder at the spectacle. Which the +visitin' cow sharp, seein' how matters is headed, shoves his +six-shooter in along-side of Coyote's arm, drills this besotted badger, +an' Coyote is saved. It's a case of touch an' go at that. But to +caper back to where we leaves Dan an' Texas on the verge of them +jocyoolarities. + +"'No, gentlemen,' Coyote is sayin', in response to some queries of Dan +an' Texas; 'I've wandered hither an' yon a heap in my time, an' now I +has my dug-out done, an' seein' wolves is oncommon plenty, I allows I +puts in what few declinin' days remains to me right where I be. I must +say, too, I'm pleased with Wolfville an' regyards myse'f as fortunate +an' proud to be a neighbour to sech excellent folks as you-all." + +"'Which I'm shore sorry a lot,' says Dan, 'to hear you speak as you +does. Thar's a rapacious sport about yere who the instant he finds how +you makes them dug-out improvements sends on an' wins out a gov'ment +patent an' takes title to that identical quarter-section which embraces +your camp. Now he's allowin' to go squanderin' over to Tucson an' get +a docyment or two from the jedge an' run you out.' + +"Son, this pore innocent Coyote takes in Dan's fictions like so much +spring water; he believes 'em utter. But the wonder is to see how he +changes. He don't say nothin', but his-eyes sort o' sparks up an' his +face gets as gray as his ha'r. It's now that Doc Peets comes along. + +"'Yere is this devourin' scoundrel now,' says Texas Thompson, p'intin' +to Peets. 'You-all had better talk to him some about it.' Then +turnin' to Peets with a wink, Texas goes on: 'Me an' Mister Boggs is +tellin' our friend how you gets a title to that land he's camped on, +an' that you allows you'll take possession mebby next week.' + +"'Why, shore,' says Peets, enterin' into the sperit of the hoax, an' +deemin' it a splendid joke; 'be you-all the maverick who's on that +quarter-section of mine?' + +"'Which I'm Colonel Coyote Clubbs,' says Coyote, bowin' low while his +lips trembles, 'an' I'm at your service.' + +"'Well,' says Peets, 'it don't make much difference about your name, +all you has to do is hit the trail. I needs that location you've done +squatted on because of the water.' + +"'An' do I onderstand, sir,' says Coyote some agitated, 'that you'll +come with off'cers to put me outen my dug-out?' + +"'Shore,' says Peets, in a case-hardened, pitiless tone, 'an' why not? +Am I to be debarred of my rights by some coyote-slaughterin' invader +an' onmurmurin'ly accede tharto? Which I should shore say otherwise.' + +"'Then I yereby warns you, sir,' says Coyote, gettin' pale as paper. +'I advises you to bring your coffin when you comes for that land, for +I'll down you the moment you're in range.' + +"'In which case,' says Peets, assoomin' airs of blood-thirsty +trucyoolence, 'thar's scant use to wait. If thar's goin' to be any +powder burnin' we might better burn it now.' + +"'I've no weepon, sir,' says Coyote, limpin' about in a circle, 'but if +ary of these gentlemen will favour me with a gun I'll admire to put +myse'f in your way.' + +"Which the appearance of Coyote when he utters this, an' him showin' on +the surface about as war-like as a prairie-dog, convulses Dan an' +Texas. It's all they can do to keep a grave front while pore Coyote in +his ignorance calls the bluff of one of the most deadly an' gamest +gents who ever crosses the Missouri--one who for nerve an' finish is a +even break with Cherokee Hall. + +"'Follow me,' says Peets, frownin' on Coyote like a thunder cloud; +'I'll equip you with a weepon myse'f. I reckons now that your death +an' deestruction that a-way is after all the best trail out. + +"Peets moves off a heap haughty, an' Coyote limps after him. Peets +goes over where his rooms is at. 'Take a cha'r,' says Peets, as they +walks in, an' Coyote camps down stiffly in a seat. Peets crosses to a +rack an' searches down a 8-inch Colt's. Then he turns towards Coyote. +'This yere discovery annoys me,' says Peets, an' his words comes cold +as ice, 'but now we're assembled, I finds that I've only got one gun.' + +"'Well, sir,' says Coyote, gettin' up an' limpin' about in his nervous +way, his face workin' an' the sparks in his eyes beginnin' to leap into +flames; 'well, sir, may I ask what you aims to propose?' + +"'I proposes to beef you right yere,' says Peets, as f'rocious as a +grizzly. 'Die, you miscreant!' An' Peets throws the gun on Coyote, +the big muzzle not a foot from his heart. + +"Peets, as well as Dan an' Texas, who's enjoyin' the comedy through a +window, ondoubted looks for Coyote to wilt without a sigh. An' if he +had done so, the joke would have been both excellent an' complete. But +Coyote never wilts. He moves so quick no one ever does locate the +darkened recess of his garments from which he lugs out that knife; the +first p'inter any of 'em gets is that with the same breath wherein +Peets puts the six-shooter on him, Coyote's organised in full with a +bowie. + +"'Make a centre shot, you villyun!' roars Coyote, an' straight as +adders he la'nches himse'f at Peets's neck. + +"Son, it's the first an' last time that Doc Peets ever runs. An' he +don't run now, he flies. Peets comes pourin' through the door an' into +the street, with Coyote frothin' after him not a yard to spar'. The +best thing about the whole play is that Coyote's a cripple; it's this +yere element of lameness that lets Peets out. He can run thirty foot +to Coyote's one, an' the result occurs in safety by the breadth of a +ha'r. + +"It takes two hours to explain to Coyote that this eepisode is humour, +an' to ca'm him an' get his emotions bedded down. At last, yoonited +Wolfville succeeds in beatin' the trooth into him, an' he permits Peets +to approach an' apol'gise. + +"'An' you can gamble all the wolves you'll ever kill an' skin,' says +Doc Peets, as he asks Coyote to forgive an' forget, 'that this yere is +the last time I embarks in jests of a practical character or gives way +to humour other than the strickly oral kind. Barkeep, my venerated +friend, yere will have a glass of water; but you give me Valley Tan.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +Long Ago on the Rio Grande. + +"Which books that a-way," observed the Old Cattleman, "that is, +story-books, is onfrequent in Wolfville." He was curiously examining +Stevenson's "Treasure Island," that he had taken from my hand. "The +nearest approach to a Wolfville cirk'latin' library I recalls is a copy +of 'Robinson Crusoe,' an' that don't last long, as one time when Texas +Thompson leaves it layin' on a cha'r outside while he enters the Red +Light for the usual purpose, a burro who's loafin' loose about the +street, smells it, tastes it, approoves of it, an' tharupon devours it +a heap. After that I don't notice no volumes in the outfit, onless +it's some drug books that Doc Peets has hived over where he camps. +It's jest as well, for seein' a gent perusin' a book that a-way, +operates frequent to make Dan Boggs gloomy; him bein' oneddicated like +I imparts to you-all yeretofore. + +"Whatever do we do for amoosements? We visits the Dance Hall; not to +dance, sech frivol'ties bein' for younger an' less dignified sports. +We goes over thar more to give our countenance an' endorsements to +Hamilton who runs the hurdy-gurdy, an' who's a mighty proper citizen. +We says 'How!' to Hamilton, libates, an' mebby watches 'em 'balance +all,' or 'swing your partners,' a minute or two an' then proceeds. +Then thar's Huggins's Bird Cage Op'ry House, an' now an' then we-all +floats over thar an' takes in the dramy. But mostly we camps about the +Red Light; the same bein' a common stampin'-ground. It's thar we find +each other; an' when thar's nothin' doin', we upholds the hours tellin' +tales an' gossipin' about cattle an' killin's, an' other topics common +to a cow country. Now an' then, thar's a visitin' gent in town who can +onfold a story. In sech event he's made a lot of, an' becomes promptly +the star of the evenin'. + +"Thar's a Major Sayres we meets up with once in Wolfville,--he's thar +on cattle matters with old man Enright--an' I recalls how he grows +absorbin' touchin' some of his adventures in that War. + +"Thar's a passel of us, consistin' of Boggs, Tutt, Cherokee, an' Texas +Thompson, an' me, who's projectin' 'round the Red Light when Enright +introdooces this Major Sayres. Him an' Enright's been chargin' about +over by the Cow Springs an' has jest rode in. This Major is easy an' +friendly, an' it ain't longer than the third drink before he shows +symptoms of bein' willin' to talk. + +"'Which I ain't been in the saddle so long,' says the Major, while him +an' Enright is considerin' how far they goes since sunup, 'since Mister +Lee surrenders.' + +"'You takes your part, Major,' says Enright, who's ropin' for a +reminiscence that a-way, 'in the battles of the late war, I believes.' + +"'I should shorely say so,' says the Major. 'I'm twenty-two years old, +come next grass, when Texas asserts herse'f as part of the confed'racy, +an' I picks up a hand an' plays it in common with the other patriotic +yooths of my region. Yes, I enters the artillery, but bein' as we +don't have no cannon none at the jump I gets detailed as a aide ontil +something resemblin' a battery comes pokin' along. I goes through that +carnage from soup to nuts, an' while I'm shot up some as days go by, +it's allers been a source of felic'tation to me, personal, that I never +slays no man myse'f. Shore, I orders my battery to fire, later when I +gets a battery; an' ondoubted the bombardments I inaug'rates adds to +an' swells the ghost census right along. But of my own hand it's ever +been a matter of congratoolations to me that I don't down nobody an' +never takes a skelp. + +"'As I turns the leaves of days that's gone I don't now remember but +one individyooal openin' for blood that ever presents itse'f. An' +after considerin' the case in all its b'arin's, I refooses the +opportunity an' the chance goes glidin' by. As a result thar's +probably one more Yank than otherwise; an' now that peace is yere an' +we-all is earnestly settlin' to be brothers No'th and South, I regyards +that extra Yank as a advantage. Shore, he's a commoonal asset.' + +"'Tell us how you fails to c'llect this Yankee, Major,' says Faro Nell: +'which I'm plumb interested every time that some one don't get killed.' + +"'I reecounts that exploit with pleasure,' says, the Major, bowin' +p'lite as Noo Orleans first circles an' touchin' his hat to Nell. +'It's one day when we're in a fight. The line of battle is mebby +stretched out half a mile. As I su'gests, I'm spraddlin' 'round +permiscus with no stated arena of effort, carryin' despatches an' +turnin' in at anything that offers, as handy as I can. I'm sent final +with a dispatch from the left to the extreme right of our lines. + +"'When we goes into this skrimmage we jumps the Lincoln people somewhat +onexpected. They has their blankets an' knapsacks on, an' as they +frames themse'fs up for the struggle they casts off this yere baggage, +an' thar it lays, a windrow of knapsacks, blankets an' haversacks, +mighty near a half mile in length across the plain. As we-all rebs has +been pushin' the Yankees back a lot, this windrow is now to our r'ar, +an' I goes canterin' along it on my mission to the far right. + +"'Without a word of warnin' a Yank leaps up from where he's been +burrowin' down among this plunder an' snaps a Enfield rifle in my face. +I pulls my boss back so he's almost settin' on his hocks; an' between +us, gents, that onexpected sortie comes mighty near surprisin' me plumb +out of the saddle. But the Enfield don't go off none; an' with that +the Yank throws her down an' starts to' run. He shorely does _vamos_ +with the velocity of jackrabbits! + +"'As soon as me an' my hoss recovers our composure we gives chase. +Bein' the pore Yank is afoot, I runs onto him in the first two hundred +yards. As I comes up, I've got my six-shooter in my hand. I puts the +muzzle on him, sort o' p'intin' between the shoulders for gen'ral +results; but when it comes to onhookin' my weepon I jest can't turn the +trick. It's too much like murder. Meanwhile, the flyin' Yank is +stampedin' along like he ain't got a thing on his mind an' never +turnin' his head. + +"'I calls on him to surrender. He makes a roode remark over his +shoulder at this military manoover an' pelts ahead all onabated. Then +I evolves a scheme to whack him on the head with my gun. I pushes my +hoss up ontil his nose is right by that No'thern party's y'ear. +Steadyin' myse'f, I makes a wallop at him an' misses. I invests so +much soul in the blow that missin' that a-way, I comes within' a ace of +clubs of goin' off my hoss an' onto my head. An' still that +exasperatin' Yank goes rackin' along, an' if anything some faster than +before. At that I begins to lose my temper ag'in. + +"'I reorganises,--for at the time I nearly makes the dive outen the +stirrups, I pulls the hoss to a stop,--an' once more takes up the +pursoot of my locoed prey. He's a pris'ner fair enough, only he's too +obstinate to admit it. As I closes on him ag'in, I starts for the +second time to drill him, but I can't make the landin'. I'm too young; +my heart ain't hard enough; I rides along by him for a bit an' for the +second time su'gests that he surrender. The Yank ignores me; he keeps +on runnin'. + +"'Which sech conduct baffles me! It's absolootely ag'in military law. +By every roole of the game that Yank's my captive; but defyin' +restraint he goes caperin' on like he's free. + +"'As I gallops along about four foot to his r'ar I confess I begins to +feel a heap he'pless about him. I'm too tender to shoot, an' he won't +stop, an' thar we be. + +"'While I'm keepin' him company on this retreat, I reflects that even +if I downs him, the war would go on jest the same; it wouldn't stop the +rebellion none, nor gain the South her independence. The more I +considers, too, the war looks bigger an' the life of this flyin' Yank +looks smaller. Likewise, it occurs to me that he's headed no'th. If +he keeps up his gait an' don't turn or twist he'll have quitted +Southern territory by the end of the week. + +"'After makin' a complete round-up of the sityooation I begins to lose +interest in this Yank; an' at last I leaves him, racin' along alone. +By way of stim'lant, as I pauses I cracks off a couple of loads outen +my six-shooter into the air. They has a excellent effect; from the +jump the Yank makes at the sound I can see the shots puts ten miles +more run into him shore. He keeps up his gallop ontil he's out of +sight, an' I never after feasts my eyes on him. + +"'Which I regyards your conduct, Major, as mighty hoomane,' says Dan +Boggs, raisin' his glass p'litely. 'I approves of it, partic'lar.' + +"The Major meets Dan's attentions in the sperit they're proposed. +After a moment Enright speaks of them cannons. + +"But you-all got a battery final, Major?' says Enright. + +"'Six brass guns,' says the Major, an' his gray eyes beams an' he +speaks of 'em like they was six beautiful women. 'Six brass guns, they +be,' he says. We captured 'em from the enemy an' I'm put in command. +Gents, I've witnessed some successes personal, but I never sees the day +when I'm as satisfied an' as contentedly proud as when I finds myse'f +in command of them six brass guns. I was like a lover to every one of +'em. + +"'I'm that headlong to get action--we're in middle Loosiana at the +time--that I hauls a couple of 'em over by the Mississippi an' goes +prowlin' 'round ontil I pulls on trouble with a little Yankee gun boat. +It lasts two hours, an' I shore sinks that naval outfit an' piles the +old Mississippi on top of 'em. I'm so puffed up with this yere exploit +that a pigeon looks all sunk in an' consumptif beside me. + +"'Thar's one feacher of this dooel with the little gun boat which +displeases me, however. Old Butler's got Noo Orleans at the time, an' +among other things he's editin' the papers. I reads in one of 'em a +month later about me sinkin' that scow. It says I'm a barb'rous +villain, the story does, an' shoots up the boat after it surrenders, +an' old Butler allows he'll hang me a whole lot the moment ever he gets +them remarkable eyes onto me. I don't care none at the time much, only +I resents this yere charge. I shore never fires a shot at that gunboat +after it gives up; I ain't so opulent of amm'nition as all that. As +time goes on, however, thar's a day when I'm goin' to take the +determination of old Butler more to heart. + +"'Followin' the gun-boat eepisode I'm more locoed than ever to get my +battery into a fight. An' at last I has my hopes entirely fulfilled. +It's about four o'clock one evenin' when we caroms on about three +brigades of Yanks. Thar's mebby twelve thousand of us rebs an' all of +fourteen thousand of the Lincoln people. My battery is all the big +guns we-all has, while said Yanks is strong with six full batteries. + +"'The battle opens up; we're on a old sugar plantation, an' after +manooverin' about a while we settles down to work. It's that day I has +my dreams of carnage realised in full. I turns loose my six guns with +verve an' fervour, an' it ain't time for a second drink before I +attracts the warmest attention from every one of the Yankee batteries. +She's shore a scandal the way them gents in bloo does shoot me up! +Jest to give you-all a idee: the Yankees slams away at me for twenty +minutes; they dismounts two of my guns; they kills or creases forty of +my sixty-six men; an' when they gets through you-all could plant cotton +where my battery stands, it's that ploughed up. + +"'It's in the midst of the _baile_, an' I'm standin' near my number-one +gun. Thar's a man comes up with a cartridge. A piece of a shell t'ars +him open, an' he falls across the gun, limp as a towel, an' then onto +the ground. I orders a party named Williams to the place. Something +comes flyin' down outen the heavens above an' smites Williams on top +the head; an' he's gone. I orders up another. He assoomes the +responsibilities of this p'sition jest in time to get a rifle bullet +through the jaw. He lives though; I sees him after the war. + +"'As that's no more men for the place, I steps for'ard myse'f. I'm not +thar a minute when I sinks down to the ground. I don't feel nothin' +an' can't make it out. + +"'While I'm revolvin' this yere phenomenon of me wiltin' that a-way an' +tryin to form some opinions about it, thar's a explosion like forty +battles all in one. For a moment, I reckons that somehow we-all has +opened up a volcano inadvertent, an' that from now on Loosiana can +boast a Hecla of her own. But it ain't no volcano. It's my ammunition +waggons which, with two thousund rounds is standin' about one hundred +yards to my r'ar. The Yanks done blows up the whole outfit with one of +their shells. + +"'It's strictly the thing, however, which lets my battery out. The +thick smoke of the two thousand cartridges drifts down an' blankets +what's left of us like a fog. The Yanks quits us; they allows most +likely they've lifted me an' my six brass guns plumb off the earth. +Thar's some roodiments of trooth in the theery for that matter. + +"'These last interestin' details sort o' all happens at once. I've +jest dropped at the time when my ammunition waggons enters into the +sperit of the o'casion like I describes. As I lays thar one of my men +comes gropin' along down to me in the smoke. + +"'"Be you hurt, Major?" he says. + +"'"I don't know," I replies: "my idee is that you better investigate +an' see." + +"'He t'ars open my coat; thar's no blood on my shirt. He lifts one arm +an' then the other; they're sound as gold pieces. Then I lifts up my +left laig; I've got on high hoss-man boots. + +"'"Pull off this moccasin," I says. + +"'He pulls her off an' thar's nothin' the matter thar. I breaks out +into a profoose sweat; gents, I'm scared speechless. I begins to fear +I ain't plugged at all; that I've fainted away on a field of battle an' +doo to become the scandal of two armies. I never feels so weak an' +sick! + +"'I've got one chance left an' trembles as I plays it; I lifts up my +right boot. I win; about a quart of blood runs out. Talk of +reprievin' folks who's sentenced to death! Gents, their emotions is +only imitations of what I feels when I finds that the Yanks done got me +an' nary doubt. It's all right--a rifle bullet through my ankle! + +"'That night I'm mowed away, with twenty other wounded folks, in a +little cabin off to one side, an' thar's a couple of doctors sizin' up +my laig. + +"'"Joe," says one, that a-way, "we've got to cut it off." + +"'But I votes "no" emphatic; I'm too young to talk about goin shy a +laig. With that they ties it up as well as ever they can, warnin' me +meanwhile that I've got about one chance in a score to beat the game. +Then they imparts a piece of news that's a mighty sight worse than my +laig. + +"'"Joe," says this doctor, when he's got me bandaged, "our army's got +to rustle out of yere a whole lot. She's on the retreat right now. +Them Yanks outheld us an' out-played us an' we've got to go stampedin'. +The worst is, thar's no way to take you along, an' we'll have to leave +you behind." + +"'"Then the Yanks will corral me?" I asks. + +"'"Shore," he replies, "but thar's nothin' else for it." + +"'It's then it comes on me about that gunboat an' the promises old +Butler makes himse'f about hangin' me when caught. Which these yere +reflections infooses new life into me. I makes the doctor who's +talkin' go rummagin' about ontil he rounds up a old nigger daddy, a +mule an' a two-wheel sugar kyart. It's rainin' by now so's you-all +could stand an' wash your face an' hands in it. As that medical sharp +loads me in, he gives me a bottle of this yere morphine, an' between +jolts an' groans I feeds on said drug until mornin.' + +"'That old black daddy is dead game. He drives me all night an' all +day an' all night ag'n, an' I'm in Shreveport; my ankle's about the +size of a bale of cotton. Thar's one ray through it all, however; I +misses meetin' old man Butler an' I looks on that as a triumph which +shore borders on relief.' + +"'An' I reckons now,' says Dan Boggs, 'you severs your relations with +the war?' + +"'No,' goes on the Major; 'I keeps up my voylence to the close. When I +grows robust enough to ride ag'in I'm in Texas. Thar's a expedition +fittin' out to invade an' subdoo Noo Mexico, an' I j'ines dogs with it +as chief of the big guns. Thar's thirty-eight hundred bold and buoyant +sperits rides outen Austin on these military experiments we plans, an' +as evincin' the luck we has, I need only to p'int out that nine months +later we returns with a scant eight hundred. Three thousand of 'em +killed, wounded an' missin' shows that efforts to list the trip onder +the head of "picnics" would be irony. + +"'Comin', as we-all does, from one thousand miles away, thar ain't one +of us who saveys, practical, as much about the sand-blown desert +regions we invades as we does of what goes on in the moon. That +Gen'ral Canby, who later gets downed by the Modocs, is on the Rio +Grande at Fort Craig. While we're pirootin' about in a blind sort o' +fashion we ropes up one of Canby's couriers who's p'intin' no'th for +Fort Union with despatches. This Gen'ral Canby makes the followin' +facetious alloosion: After mentionin' our oninvited presence in the +territory, he says: + +"'"But let 'em alone. We'll dig the potatoes when they're ripe." + +"'Gents, we was the toobers!' An' yere the Major pauses for a drink. +'We was the potatoes which Canby's exultin' over! We don't onderstand +it at the time, but it gets cl'arer as the days drifts by. + +"'I'm never in a more desolate stretch of what would be timber only +thar ain't no trees. Thar's nothin' for the mules an' hosses; half the +time thar ain't even water. An' then it's alkali. An' our days teems +an' staggers with disgustin' experiences. Once we're shy water two +days. It's the third day about fourth drink time in the evenin'. The +sun has two hours yet to go. My battery is toilin' along, sand to the +hubs of gun-carriages an' caissons, when I sees the mules p'int their +y'ears for'ard with looks of happy surprise. Then the intelligent +anamiles begins a song of praise; an' next while we-all is marvellin' +thereat an' before ever a gent can stretch hand to bridle to stop 'em, +the mules begins to fly. They yanks my field pieces over the desert as +busy an' full of patriotic ardour as a drunkard on 'lection day. The +whole battery runs away. Gents, the mules smells water. It's two +miles away,--a big pond she is,--an' that locoed battery never stops, +but rushes plumb in over its y'ears; an' I lose sixteen mules an' two +guns before ever I'm safe ag'in on terry firmy. + +"'It's shore remarkable,' exclaims the Major, settin' down his glass, +'how time softens the view an' changes bitter to sweet that a-way. As +I brings before me in review said details thar's nothin' more harassin' +from soda to hock than that campaign on the Rio Grande. Thar's not one +ray of sunshine to paint a streak of gold in the picture from frame to +frame; all is dark an' gloom an' death. An' yet, lookin' back'ard +through the years, the mem'ry of it is pleasant an' refreshing a heap +more so than enterprises of greater ease with success instead of +failure for the finish. + +"'Thar's one partic'lar incident of this explorin' expeditions into Noo +Mexico which never recurs to my mind without leavin' my eyes some dim. +I don't claim to be no expert on pathos an' I'm far from regyardin' +myse'f as a sharp on tears, but thar's folks who sort o' makes sadness +a speshulty, women folks lots of 'em, who allows that what I'm about to +recount possesses pecooliar elements of sorrow. + +"'Thar's a young captain--he ain't more'n a boy--who's brought a troop +of lancers along with us. This boy Captain hails from some'ers up +'round Waco, an' thar ain't a handsomer or braver in all Pres'dent +Davis's army. This Captain--whose name is Edson,--an' me, bein' we-all +is both young, works ourse'fs into a clost friendship for each other; I +feels about him like he's my brother. Nacherally, over a camp fire an' +mebby a stray bottle an' a piece of roast antelope, him an' me confides +about ourse'fs. This Captain Edson back in Waco has got a old widow +mother who's some rich for Texas, an' also thar's a sweetheart he aims +to marry when the war's over an' done. I reckons him an' me talks of +that mother an' sweetheart of his a hundred times. + +"'It falls out that where we fords the Pecos we runs up on a Mexican +Plaza--the "Plaza Chico" they-all calls it--an' we camps thar by the +river a week, givin' our cattle a chance to roll an' recooperate up on +the grass an' water. + +"'Then we goes p'intin' out for the settin' sun ag'in, allowin' to +strike the Rio Grande some'ers below Albuquerque. Captain Edson, while +we're pesterin' 'round at the Plaza Chico, attaches to his retinoo a +Mexican boy; an' as our boogles begins to sing an' we lines out for +that west'ard push, this yere boy rides along with Edson an' the +lancers. + +"'Our old war chief who has charge of our wanderin's is strictly stern +an' hard. An' I reckons now he's the last gent to go makin' soft +allowances for any warmth of yooth, or puttin' up with any primrose +paths of gentle dalliance, of any an' all who ever buckles on a set of +side arms. It thus befalls that when he discovers on the mornin' of +the second day that this Mexican boy is a Mexican girl, he goes ragin' +into the ambient air like a eagle. + +"'The Old Man claps Edson onder arrest an' commands the girl to saddle +up an' go streakin' for the Plaza Chico. As it's only a slow day's +march an' as these Mexicans knows the country like a coyote, it's a +cinch the girl meets no harm an' runs no resks. But it serves to plant +the thorns of wrath in the heart of Captain Edson. + +"'The Old Man makes him loose an' gives him back his lancers before +ever we rides half a day, but it don't work no mollifications with the +young Captain. He offers no remarks, bein' too good a soldier; but he +never speaks to the Old Man no more, except it's business. + +"'"Joe," he says to me, as we rides along, or mebby after we're in camp +at night, "I'll never go back to Texas. I've been disgraced at the +head of my troop an' I'll take no sech record home." + +"'"You oughter not talk that a-way, Ed," I'd say, tryin' to get his +sensibilities smoothed down. "If you don't care none for yourse'f or +for your footure, you-all should remember thar's something comin' to +the loved ones at home. Moreover, it's weak sayin' you-all ain't goin' +back to Texas. How be you goin' to he'p it, onless you piles up +shore-enough disgrace by desertin' them lancers of yours?" + +"'"Which if we has the luck," says this Captain Edson, "to cross up +with any Yanks who's capable of aimin' low an' shootin' half way troo, +I'll find a way to dodge that goin' back without desertin'." + +"'No, I don't make no argyments with him; it's hopeless talkin' to a +gent who's melancholly an' who's pride's been jarred; thar's nothing +but time can fix things up for him. An' I allers allows that this boy +Captain would have emerged from the clouds eventooal, only it happens +he don't get the time. His chance comes too soon; an' he shore plays +it desperate. + +"'Our first offishul act after reachin' the Rio Grande is to lay for a +passel of Yank cavalry--thar's two thousand of 'em I reckons. We rides +up on these yere lively persons as we sounds a halt for the evenin'. +It looks like our boogles is a summons, for they comes buttin' into +view through a dry arroya an' out onto the wide green bottoms of the +Rio Grande at the first call. They're about a mile away, an' at sight +of us they begins in a fashion of idle indifference to throw out a line +of battle. They fights on foot, them bloo folks do; dismounting with +every fourth man to hold the hosses. They displays a heap of insolence +for nothin' but cavalry an' no big guns; but as they fights like +infantry an' is armed with Spencer seven-shooters besides, the play +ain't so owdacious neither. + +"'Thar's mebby a hour of sun an' I'm feelin' mighty surly as I gets my +battery into line. I'm disgusted to think we've got to fight for our +night's camp, an' swearin' to myse'f in a low tone, so's not to set +profane examples to my men, at the idee that these yere Yanks is that +preecip'tate they can't wait till mornin' for their war-jig. But I +can't he'p myse'f. That proverb about it takin' two to make a fight is +all a bluff. It only takes one to make a fight. As far as we-all rebs +is concerned that evenin' we ain't honin' for trouble, leastwise, not +ontil mornin'; but them inordinate Yanks will have it, an' thar you be. +The fight can't be postponed. + +"'Thar's no tumblin' hurry about how any of us goes to work. Both +sides has got old at the game an' war ain't the novelty she is once. +The Yanks is takin' their p'sition, an' we're locatin' our lines an' +all as ca'mly an' with no more excitement than if it's dress p'rade. +The Yanks is from Colorado. My sergeant speaks of 'em to me the next +day an' gives his opinion touchin' their merits. + +"'"Where did you say them Yankees comes from, Major?" says my serjeant. + +"'"Colorado," I replies. + +"'"Which thar's about thirty minutes last evenin'," says my serjeant, +"when I shorely thinks they're recrooted in hell," an' my serjeant +shakes his head. + +"'While I'm linin' up my battery mighty discontented an' disgruntled, +an orderly pulls my sleeve. + +"'"Look thar, Major!" he says. + +"'I turns, an' thar over on our right, all alone, goes Captain Edson +an' his lancers. Without waiting an' without commands, Captain Edson +has his boogler sound a charge; an' thar goes the lancers stampedin' +along like they're a army corps an' cap'ble of sweepin' the two +thousand cool an' c'llected Yankees off the Rio Grande. + +"'For a moment all we does is stand an' look; the surprise of it leaves +no idee of action. The lancers swings across the grassy levels. +Thar's not a shot fired; Edson's people ain't got nothin' but them +reedic'lous spears, an' the Yanks, who seems to know it, stands like +the rest of us without firin' an' watches 'em come. It's like a +picture, with the thin bright air an' the settin' sun shinin' sideways +over the gray line of mountains fifty miles to the west. + +"'I never sees folks more placid than the Yanks an' at the same time so +plumb alert. Mountain lions is lethargic to 'em. When Captain Edson +an' his lancers charges into 'em the Yanks opens right an' left, each +sharp of 'em gettin' outen the way of that partic'lar lancer who's +tryin' to spear him; but all in a steady, onruffled fashion that's as +threatenin' as it is excellent. The lancers, with Captain Edson, goes +through, full charge, twenty rods to the r'ar of the Yankee line. An', +gents, never a man comes back. + +"'As Edson an' his troop goes through, the Yanks turns an' opens on +'em. The voices of the Spencers sounds like the long roll of a drum. +Hoss an' man goes down, dead an' wounded; never a gent of 'em all rides +back through that awful Yankee line. Pore Edson shore has his wish; +he's cut the trail of folks who's cap'ble of aimin' low an' shootin' +half way troo. + +"'These sperited moves I've been relatin' don't take no time in the +doin'. The hairbrain play of Captain Edson forces our hands. The Old +Man orders a charge, an' we pushes the Yanks back onto their hosses an' +rescoos what's left of Edson an' his lancers. After skirmishin' a +little the Yanks draws away an' leaves us alone on the field. They +earns the encomiums of my serjeant, though, before ever they decides to +_vamos_. + +"'Edson's been shot hard and frequent; thar's no chance for him. He +looks up at me, when we're bringin' him off, an' says: + +"'"Joe," an' he smiles an' squeezes my hand, while his tones is plenty +feeble, "Joe, you notes don't you that while I ain't goin' back to +Texas, I don't have to desert." + +"'That night we beds down our boy Captain in a sol'tary Mexican 'doby. +He's layin' on a pile of blankets clost by the door while the moon +shines down an' makes things light as noonday. He's been talkin' to me +an' givin' me messages for his mother an' the rest of his outfit at +Waco, an' I promises to carry 'em safe an' deliver 'em when I rides in +ag'in on good old Texas. Then he wants his mare brought up where he +can pet her muzzle an' say _Adios_ to her. + +"'"For, Joe," he says, "I'm doo to go at once now, an' my days is down +to minutes." + +"'"The medicine man, Ed," I says, "tells me that you-all has hours to +live." + +"'"But, Joe," he replies, "I knows. I'm a mighty good prophet you +recalls about my not goin' back, an' you can gamble I'm not makin' any +mistakes now. It's down to minutes, I tells you, an' I wants to see my +mare." + +"'Which the mare is brought up an' stands thar with her velvet nose in +his face; her name's "Ruth," after Edson's sweetheart. The mare is as +splendid as a picture; pure blood, an' her speed an' bottom is the +wonder of the army. Usual a hoss is locoed by the smell of blood, but +it don't stampede this Ruth; an' she stays thar with him as still an' +tender as a woman, an' with all the sorrow in her heart of folks. As +Edson rubs her nose with his weak hand an' pets her, he asks me to take +this Ruth back to his sweetheart with all his love. + +"'"Which now I'm goin'," he whispers, "no one's to mention that +eepisode of the Pecos an' the little Mexican girl of Plaza Chico!" + +"'Edson is still a moment; an' then after sayin' "Good-by," he lets on +that he desires me to leave him alone with the mare. + +"'"I'll give Ruth yere a kiss an' a extra message for my sweetheart," +he says, "an' then I'll sleep some." + +"'I camps down outside the 'doby an' looks up at the moon an' begins to +let my own thoughts go grazin' off towards Texas. It's perhaps a +minute when thar's the quick _crack_! of a six-shooter, an' the mare +Ruth r'ars up an' back'ard ontil she's almost down. But she recovers +herse'f an' stands sweatin' an' shiverin' an' her eyes burnin' like she +sees a ghost. Shore, it's over; pore Edson won't wait; he's got to his +guns, an' thar's a bullet through his head.'" + +THE END. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Wolfville Nights, by Alfred Lewis + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOLFVILLE NIGHTS *** + +***** This file should be named 13709.txt or 13709.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/7/0/13709/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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