Faro Nell and Her Friends: Wolfville Stories

by Alfred Henry Lewis

  IX

  RED MIKE

  "Mebby you-all recalls about that Polish artist person?" suggested theold cattleman, tentatively; "him I speaks of former?" My gray old_campanero_ was measuring out what he called his "forty drops," and,since this ceremony necessitated keeping one eye on his glass, whilehe endeavored to keep the other eye on me, the contradictory effortresulted in a wavering and uncertain expression, not at all in harmonywith his usual positive air. By way of helping conversation, Iconfessed to a clear remembrance of the "Polish artist person," andwound up by urging him to give the particulars concerning thatinteresting exile.

  "Well," he cautiously returned, "thar ain't nothin' so mightythrillin' in his Wolfville c'reer. You see he ain't, for the most, nopop'lar figure--him bein' a furriner, that a-way, an' a artist, an'sufferin' besides from conceit in so acoote a form as to make it noexaggeration to say he's locoed. On account of these yere divers an'sundry handicaps, he don't achieve no social success, an' while he'swith us, you'd hardly call him of us.

  "Not that I objects to this deescendant of Warsaw's last champion,personal. Which I'm a heap like Enright in sech reespects, an'shore tol'rant. I finds out long ago that the reason we-all goesfault-findin' about people, mostly is because we don't onderstandconcernin' them folk's surroundin's. Half the things we arches ournecks over, an' for which mebby we feels like killin' 'em a wholelot, they can't he'p none. If we only savvys what they're reely upag'inst, it's four for one we pities 'em instead.

  "It's like one time 'way back yonder, when me an' Steve Stevenson hasa sudden an' abrupt diffukulty with a buffalo bull. We're camped outon the edge of the Rockies near the Spanish Peaks, an' me an' Steve,in the course of a little _passear_ we're takin', is jest roundin' abunch of plum bushes when, as onexpected as a gun play in a Bibleclass, that devil's son an' heir of a bull--who's been hid by thebushes--ups an charges. Which you should have seen me an' Stevescatter! We certainly do onbuckle in some hasty moves! He's bigger 'na baggage wagon, an' as we leaves our guns ten rods away in camp,thar's nothin' for it but to dig out.

  "Nigh whar I'm at is a measley _pinon_ tree, an' the way I swarmsaloft among that vegetable's boughs an' branches comes mighty clost tobein' a lesson to mountain lions. Steve, who's the onluckiest sportwest of the Missouri, an' famed as sech, ain't got no tree. The besthe can do is go divin' into a hole he sees in some rocks, same as ifhe's a jack-rabbit with a coyote in hot pursoote.

  "Me an' Steve both bein' safe, an' reegyardin' that bull as baffled, Idraws a breath of relief. That is, to be ackerate, I starts to drawit; but before I so much as gets it started, yere that inordinateSteve comes b'ilin' out of his hole ag'in like he ain't plumbsatisfied about that bull. The bull's done give him up, too, an'switchin' his tail some thoughtful has started to go away, when, as Itells you, that fool Steve comes surgin' out upon his reetreatin'hocks.

  "Nacherally, what could any se'f-respectin' bull do but wheel an'chase Steve back? It's no use, though; Steve won't have it. No soonerdoes the bull get him hived that a-way, an' make ready to reetire toprivate life ag'in, than, bing! yere Steve comes bulgin' like a corkout of a bottle. An' so it continyoos, a reg'lar see-saw between Stevean' the bull. Steve'll go into his cave of refooge, prairie-dogfashion, a foot ahead of the bull's horns, only to be a foot behindthe bull's tail as that painstakin' anamile is arrangin' to deepart.

  "Which sech wretched strategy arouses my contempt.

  "'You dad-binged Siwash,' I yells down at Steve, 'whyever don'tyou-all stay in that hole, ontil the bull forgets whar you're at?'

  "'Go on!' Steve shouts back, as in he dives, head-first, for mebbyit's the twentieth time; 'it's as simple as suckin' aiggs, ain't it,for you up in your tree? You-all don't know nothin' about this hole;thar's a b'ar in this hole!'

  "Which I allers remembers about that dilemmy of Steve's. An' now, whenI beholds a gent makin' some rannikaboo break, an' everybody'sscoffin' at him an' deenouncin' him for a loonatic or worse, Ireeflects that mighty likely if we-all was to go examine the hole he'sin, we'd find it plumb full of b'ar.

  "Returnin' to the orig'nal proposition, the same bein' that Polack,let me begin by sayin' that whenever it comes to any utterances ofhis'n, I'm nacherally onable to quote him exact. What with him rollin'his 'Rs' ontil they sounds like one of them snare drums, an' thejiggerty-jerkety fashion wharin he chops up his English, a gent mightas soon try to quote a planin' mill exact.

  "That I'm able to give you-all his troo name is doo wholly to himpassin' round his kyard a heap profoose, when he first comes ramblin'in, said cognomen as printed bein' 'Orloff Ivan Mitzkowanski, Artistand Painter of Portraits.' We perooses this yere fulm'nation two orthree times, an' Peets even reads it out loud; but since the tongue ofno ordinary gent is capable of ropin' an' throwin' it, to say nothin'of tyin' it down, we cuts the gordian knot in the usual way byre-christenin' him _pro bono publico_ as Red Mike, which places himwithin the verbal reach of all.

  "'Yes,' he says, as he ladles out them kyards, an' all with themanner of a prince conferrin' favors--'yes, I'm a artist come to you,seekin' subjects an' color. As you probably observes by my name, I'm agallant Pole, one whose noble ancestors shrieks when Kosciusko fell.'

  "Him bein' a stranger that a-way, an' no one, onless it's Peets, everhavin' heard about Poland, or Kosciusko, or whoever does thatshriekin' the time when Kosciusko finds himse'f bumped off, we letsMike get by with this yere bluff. Besides, his name of itse'f sort o'holds us. That anyone, an' specially any furriner, could come as faras he has, flauntin' a name like that in the sensitive face ofmankind, an' yet live to tell the tale, is shore plenty preepar'toryto believin' anything.

  "When we lets it go that owin' to local conditions we'll be obleegedto call him 'Red Mike,' he's agree'ble.

  "'As you will, my friends,' he cries, bulgin' out his breast an'thumpin' it. 'What care I, who am destined for immortality, thatbarbarians should hail me as Red Mike? It is enough that I am notdestroyed, enough that I still move an' have my bein'!'

  "'Mike,' interjecks Tutt, bristlin' a little, 'don't cut loose in nooffensive flights. It's a heap onadvisable when addressin' us tooverwork that word "barbarian." As you says yourself, you're lucky tobe alive; which, bein' conceded, it'd be plenty proodent on your partnot to go doin' nothin' to change your luck.'

  "'Steady thar, Dave,' says Enright, 'don't go exhibitin' your teeth toa pore benighted furriner, an' him not onto our curves.'

  "'Him bein' a furriner,' retorts Tutt, 'is but a added argyooment infavor of him takin' heed. Speakin' for myse'f, I in partic'lar don'twant no furriner to step on my tail an' stand thar, same as if myfeelin's ain't goin' to count.'

  "'Be composed, my friend,' says Mike, tryin' to follow Enright out an'squar' himse'f with Tutt--'be composed. I reetract the "barbarians"an' suggest a drink.'

  "'That's all right, Mike,' returns Tutt, who's easy mollified; 'stillI onreservedly says ag'in that in Arizona thar's nothin' in becomin'too difoose. All that this time lets you out, Mike, is that havin'jest had our feed we're happ'ly lethargic. Which if you'd let flythat crack about barbarians, an' us not fed none, some gent nototherwise employed 'd have seized upon you as a mop-rag wharwith towipe up the floor.'

  "Thar's allers a dispoote as to whether or no Mike reely commitssooicide that time. Tutt an' Texas holds to the last that his lightgettin' blowed out like it does is accidental. Peets, however, insistsit's a shore-enough sooicide. Of course, Boggs goes with Peets.Whatever's the question at bay, Boggs never fails to string his playwith the Doc's; it's Boggs's system. All you has to do to get a riseout o' Boggs is get some opinion out o' Peets. Once the Doc declar'shimse'f, Boggs is right thar to back said declaration for his lastdollar every time.

  "As sustainin' his claim of sooicide, Peets p'ints out that thar's nogent, not a howlin' eediot complete, but knows s'fficient of giantpowder to be dead on to how it's cap'ble of bein' fired by friction.

  "'Why,' he says, eloocidatin' his p'sition, 'even darkened savages isposted as to that. I once
sees a South Sea Islander, in a moose-yumEast, who sets a bunch of shavin's in a blaze by rubbin' together twosticks. An' this yere Mike is a eddycated sharp, eddicated at a Dutchoutfit called Heidelberg. Do you-all reckon a gradyooate of sech asem'nary ever walks out on a cold collar, him not wise, an' performsin the numbskull fashions as this yere Mike?'

  "'That's whatever!' chimes in Boggs.

  "As I tells you, any emphatic idee laid down by Peets instantly setsBoggs to strikin' same as one of them cuckoo clocks.

  "Enright?

  "The old silver tip stands nootral, not sidin' with either Peets an'Boggs or Tutt an' Texas.

  "'Which this yere Mike bein' shore dead,' says Enright, 'strikes me ass'fficient. I plants my moccasins on that, an' don't go pirootin' an'projectin' about for no s'lootions which may or may not leave me outon a limb.'

  "You recalls how it's Monte who, while gettin' drunk with him over tothe Oriental S'loon in Tucson, deloodes Mike into p'intin' our way.Also, what Enright says to that deboshed stage driver for so doin'.Enright's shore fervent on that occasion, an' the language he useswould have killed two acres of grass. But that don't he'p none. Afterthe dust Enright paws up has settled, thar's Mike still, all quiled upin the Wolfville lap.

  "Thar's a worse feachure, the same bein' Mike's wife. She's as young,an' mighty nigh as lovely, too, as Nell; only she's blind, this yereMike's girl wife is, blind as any midnight mole. Besides her, an' aarmful of paint breshes an' pictures, about all Mike's got in the wayof plunder is a ten-dollar bill. If it's only Mike, we-all might havethickened our hides a heap, an' let him go jumpin' sideways for hisdaily grub, same as other folks. But girls must be fed, speshullyblind ones.

  "Which this egreegious Mike, who calls her his 'little Joolie,' allowsher bein' blind that a-way is why he marries her.

  "'It inshores her innocence,' he says; 'because it inshores herignorance of the world.'

  "'Likewise,' remarks Peets, as we stands discussin' this yerereasonin' of Mike's in the Red Light, 'it inshores her ignorance ofthem onmitigated pictures he paints. Which if ever she was just to getone good look at 'em, he couldn't hold her with a Spanish bit. Butyou-all knows how it is, Sam?'--Yere Peets clinks his glass, an' allmighty sagacious, ag'inst Enright's--'The wind is tempered to theshorn lamb. On the whole, I ain't none convinced that her bein' blind,that a-way, ain't for the best.'

  "To look at this little Joolie, you-all'd never know she can't seenone. Her eyes is big an' soft an' deep, an nothin' queer about 'emexcept they has a half-blurred, baby look. Peets allows it's the nervebein' dead which does it. But blind or not, little Joolie shore doteson that Red Mike husband of hers, as though he's made of love an'gold. Which he's her heaven!

  "While it's evident, after a ca'm an' onbiased consideration ofhis works, that from standp'ints of art this yere Mike's aboutsign-painter size, little Joolie regyards him as the top-sawyergenius of this or any other age.

  "'He'll revolutionize the world of art,' she declar's to Nell, who'smighty constant about goin' to see her; 'Ivan'--she pronounces it'Vahn'--'is ondoubted destined to become the founder of a nooschool.'

  "'An' her face,' goes on Nellie, as she tells us about it over to theO. K. Restauraw one evenin', after Mike an' his little Joolie wife'sdone pulled their freight for the night--'an' her face glows with thefaith of a angel! So if any of you-all boys finds occasion to speak ofthis yere Mike in her presence, you be shore an' sw'ar that, as anartist, he's got nacher backed plumb off the lay-out.'

  "'The wretch who fails,' adds Missis Rucker, plenty fierce, 'don'twrastle his hash with me no more! You can gamble that marplot hastackled his final plateful of slapjacks at the O. K. House, an' thisyere's notice to that effect.'

  "It's a cinch, of course, that none of us is that obtoose as to gosayin' anything to pain this yere blind little Joolie; at the sametime no one regyards it as feas'ble to resent them threats of MissisRucker! She's a mighty sperited matron, Missis Rucker is, sperited tothe verge of bein' vindictive, an' rubbin' her fur the wrong way isthe same as rubbin' a bobcat's fur the wrong way. As a exercise thar'snothin' in it. Besides, we're plumb used to it, owin' to herthreatenin' us about one thing or another constant. Menaces, thata-way, is Missis Rucker's style.

  "Mike an' his Joolie wife don't live at the O. K. House, but only getstheir chuck thar. He allows that to do jestice to his art he's got tohave what he calls a 'no'th light,' an' so he goes meanderin' out onthe no'th side of town, an' jumps a empty shack.

  "Driv by a lack of money, mighty likely, Mike ain't in camp a weekbefore he makes it plenty plain that, onless he's headed off orkilled, he's goin' to paint Enright a whole lot. As a preelim'nary heloores a passel of us over to his wickeyup to show us samples.

  "'That's my chef dever,' he says, bringin' for'ard a smudgy lookin'canvas, plastered all over with reds an' browns.

  "We-all takes a slant at it, maintainin' ourselves meanwhile as graveas a passel of owls. An' at that the most hawk-eyed in the outfitcan't make it look like nothin'. We-all hangs back in the straps, an'waits for Peets to take the lead. For thar is the pretty little blindJoolie wife, all y'ears an' lovin' int'rest, an' after what Nell an'Missis Rucker has done said the gent who lacerates her feelin's islost. In sech a pinch Peets is our guidin' light.

  "'Massive!' says Peets, after a pause.

  "'Which she's shore a heap massive!' we murmurs, followin' Peets'smoke.

  "'An' sech atmosphere!' Peets goes on.

  "'Atmosphere to give away!' we echoes.

  "At these yere encomiyums the pore pleased face of little Joolie isbeamin' like the sun. As for Mike, he assoomes a easy attitoode, sameas though compliments means nothin' to him.

  "'What's the subject?' Peets asks.

  "'That, my friend, is the _Linden in October_,' returns Mike, asthough he's showin' us a picture of heaven's front gate. 'Yes, the_Linden in October_.'

  "'Which if this yere Pole,' whispers Texas to Cherokee, 'is able tomake anything out of that smear, he can shore see more things withoutthe aid of licker than any sport that ever spreads his blankets inCochise County.'

  "Texas is a heap careful not to let either Mike or the little Jooliegirl ketch on to what he says.

  "Also, it's worth recallin' that Mike an' the little Joolie is theonly wedded pa'r, of which the Southwest preeserved a record, thatdon't bring bilious recollections to Texas of his former Laredo wife.

  "WHAT'S THE SUBJECT?" PEETS ASKS. "THAT, MY FRIEND, IS THE'LINDEN IN OCTOBER,'" RETURNS MIKE, AS THOUGH HE'S A SHOWIN' US A PICTUREOF HEAVEN'S FRONT GATE. p. 238.]

  "'Not but what thar's a wrong thar, Doc,' he insists, the time Peetsmentions it; 'not but what this yere Red Mike-Joolie sityooationharbors a wrong. Only it's onavailable to 'llustrate the illyoosage Isuffers at the hands of my Laredo wife.'

  "After the _Linden_ Mike totes out mebby it's a dozen other smearysquar's of canvas. We goes over 'em one by one, cockin' our eyes an'turnin' our heads first one way an' then another, like a bloo jaypeerin' into a knothole. When Peets lets drive something about 'skyeffects,' an' 'fore-grounds,' an' 'middle-distance,' we stacks in allsim'lar. Thar's nothin' to it; Mike an' the little Joolie girl puts ina mighty pleasant hour.

  "Mike, feelin' hospit'ble, an' replyin' to a thirsty look which JackMoore sort o' sheds about the room, reegrets he ain't got no whiskey.

  "'My little Joolie objectin',' he explains.

  "'Oh, well,' speaks up Peets, who's plumb eager to bring them artstudies to a wind-up, 'when thar's famine in Canaan thar's corn inEgypt. S'ppose we-all goes romancin' over to the Red Light an' lickerup. Thar's nothin' like nosepaint, took internal, for bringin' out apicture's convincin' p'ints.'

  "'Right you be, Doc,' says Moore. 'It's only last week, when I myse'fcuts the trail of Monte, who, as the froote of merely the seventhdrink, is sheddin' scaldin' tears over a three-sheet poster stuck ontothe corral gate. This yere stampede in color deepicts the death of"Little Eva," as preesented in the _Uncle Tom_ show ragin' over to theBird Cage Op'ry House. Monte al
lows it's one of the most movin' thingshe's ever met up with, an' protests between sobs ag'inst takin' outthe stage that day for its reg'lar trip. "Which it's a hour formournin'," he groans; an' he's shore shocked when the company insists.As he throws free the brake he shakes the tears from his eyes, an'says, "These yere corp'rations ain't got no heart!"'

  "If thar's ever any chance of Enright bein' that weak the sight ofthem smudges an' smears settles it, an' while we stands shovin' theOld Jordan along the Red Light bar, he allows to Mike that on thewhole he don't reckon he'll have himse'f painted none. Rememberin',however, that it's a ground-hawg case with Mike, who needs the money,Enright gives him a commission to paint Monte.

  "'Him bein' a histor'cal character, that a-way,' says Enright.

  "Monte is over in Tucson, but you should have heard that drunkard'slanguage when he's told.

  "'Whatever be you-all tryin' to do to me, Sam?' he wails. 'Ain't aworkin' man got no rights? Yere be I, the only gent in camp who hasactchooal dooties to perform, an' a plot is set afoot behind my backto make me infamous!'

  "'It's to go over the Red Light bar,' explains Enright, 'to be ahorr'ble example for folks with a tendency to over-drink. As for youyellin' like a pig onder a gate, who is it, I asks, that beguiles thisindigent artist party into camp, an' leaves him on our hands? Bein'he's yere, I takes it that even your whiskey-drowned intell'genceree'lizes that this yere Mike, an' speshully the little blind Joolie,has got to be fed.'

  "'Well, gents,' returns Monte, gulpin' down his grief with hisnosepaint, 'I reckons if it's your little game to use me as ahealthful moral inflooence, I'd lose out to go puttin' up a roar. Allthe same, as sufferer in chief, I'm entitled to be more consulted byyou uplifters before ever you arranges to perpetchooate me toposter'ty as a common jeer.'

  "Shore; these yere protests of Monte's ain't more'n half on the level.After a fashion, he's plenty pleased.

  "'For,' he says, confidin' in Black Jack over his licker, 'it ain'tevery longhorn of a stage driver whose picture is took by one of theseyere gifted Yooropeans.'

  "Black Jack agrees to this in full, for he's a good-hearted barkeep,that a-way.

  "In doo time the picture's hung up back of the Red Light bar.Regyarded as a portrait it's shore some desp'rate, an' even Enrightsort o' half reepents. Monte, after studyin' it a while, begins to getsore in earnest. Them scales, like the scriptoors say, certainly dofall from his eyes.

  "'Jack,' he says, appealin' to Moore, who happens to be present, 'doesthat thing look like me?'

  "'Why, yes,' Jack replies, squintin' his left eye a heap critical; 'tobe shore it flatters you some, but then them artists gen'rally does.'

  "'Jack, if I'm that feeble as to go believin' what you says, I'd borrya shotgun from the express company and blow off the top of my head.That ain't the portrait of no hooman bein"--an' Monte raises adispa'rin' hand at the picture; 'it's a croode preesentation of someonnacheral cross between a coyote and a cowskin trunk.'

  "Cherokee gets up from behind his lay-out, an' strolls over so's toget a line on the picture. He takes a long an' disparagin' survey.

  "'It ain't that I'm incitin' you to voylence, Monte,' he remarksfinal, 'but if you owes a dooty to s'ciety, don't forget that you owesalso a dooty to yourse'f. You'll be lackin' in se'f-respect if youdon't give Sam Enright two weeks to take that outrage down, an' if itain't removed by then you'll bust it.'

  "Black Jack is ag'in the picture, too.

  "'Not,' he says, 'that I wants to put the smother on it entire; only Ifigger it'd look better in the post office, folks not makin' it somuch of a hangout. Regyarded commercial, it's a setback to the RedLight. Some gent comes trackin' up intent on drinks, an' feelin' gala.After one glance at Monte up thar it's all off. That reveller'schanged his mind, an' staggers out into the open ag'in without a word.The joint is daily knocked for about the price of a stack of bloos, asthe direct result of that work of art. Which I'd as soon have a gilamonster in the winder.'

  "Mike ain't present none when all this yere flattery is flyin'. If hewas thar in person nothin' would have been said. Whoever'd be thathardened as to go harrowin' up the sens'tive soul of a artist, even ifhis work don't grade as corn-fed?

  "Some later tribyoote to his talents, however, reaches the y'ears ofMike. On the back of Black Jack's protests the Lightnin' Bug, who'scome over from Red Dog for a little visit, drifts in. When he seesMonte's portrait his eyes lights up like a honka-tonk on Saturdaynight.

  "'Rattlesnakes an' stingin' lizards!' he cries; 'which I'm a Mexicanif you-all ain't gone an' got him painted! However do you-all manage?I remembers when we captures him it's the last spring round-up butone. Two weeks goes by before ever we gets him so he'll w'ar clothes!An' even then we-all has to blindfold him an' back him in!'

  "'Whoever do you reckon that is, Bug?' asks Black Jack.

  "'It's that locoed Digger Injun, ain't it?' says the Bug; 'him wecorrals, that time, livin' on ants an' crickets, an' roots an' yarbs,over in Potato canyon?'

  "'It's Monte.'

  "'Monte! Does anybody get killed about it?'

  "Black Jack mentions Mike as the artist.

  "'What, that Dutch galoot with the long ha'r?' says the Bug.

  "'Which he's a Pole.'

  "'Pole or Dutchman, what's the odds? I sees a party back in Looeyvillewhose ha'r's most as long as his. We entices him to a barber shop on abet to have it cut, an' I'm ag'in the union if four flyin' squirrelsdon't come scootin' out. They've been nestin' in it.'

  "The Bug swings lightly into the saddle after a while, an' goesclatterin' back to Red Dog. No notice would have been took of what hesays, only Monte, who hears it from Black Jack, is that malev'lent hegoes an' tells Mike.

  "'You-all will make trouble between 'em, Monte,' Nell reemonstrates,when Monte's braggin' in his besotted way about what he's done.

  "'That's all right, Nellie. Both of 'em's been insultin' me; Mike bypaintin' me so I'm a holy show, an' the Bug by lettin' on to take mefor a Digger buck. S'ppose the Bug downs Mike, or Mike does up theBug? Either way it's oats in your uncle Monte's feed box. That's me,Nellie; that's your old uncle Monte every time! Which, when it comesto cold intrigue, that a-way, I'm the swiftest sport in our set.'

  "On hearin' about the Bug from Monte Mike gets plenty intemp'rate. Hegoes plumb in the air, an' stays thar. He gives it out that he's goin'to prance over to Red Dog an' lay for the Bug. Nothin' but blood isgoin' to do him.

  "Thar's nothin' we can say or do to stop Mike, so after talkin' itover a spell we deecides to throw him loose, Enright first sendin'word that he's harmless, an' not to be bumped off.

  "Upon receivin' Enright's word the Red Dog chief passes on a warnin'to the Bug. Mike mustn't, onder no circumstances, be killed. Bein'he's a artist he's not reespons'ble.

  "'Me kill him!' cries the Bug, who's scandalized at the idee; 'me takea gun to sech a insect! Gents, I've too much reespect for them goodold faithful .45's of mine to play it as low down on 'em as allthat.'

  "Which there leeniencies I allers feels is on account of the littleJoolie, an' the blind love she entertains for Mike. When the worstdoes come we carefully conceals from her the troo details, an' insiststhat the powder house goes off by itse'f.

  "Then Nell, with Tucson Jennie and Missis Rucker to back her, carriesthe little Joolie girl the news. It's shore tough papers; an' MissisRucker an' Tucson Jennie is kept racin' an' runnin' an' riotin'between the O. K. House an' Mike's wickeyup, freightin' over camphoran' sim'lar reestor'tives to the little Joolie all night long, whileNellie holds her head.

  "Does Mike's kickin' the bucket leave the little Joolie broke? It'sthis a-way: You see we-all chips in, an' makes up a fa'rly moderatepile to buy the _Linden in October_.

  "'It's to remember your gifted husband by,' explains Enright, as himan' Peets an' Boggs goes over to clink down the gold, an' get the_Linden_. 'This yere transcendent spec'men shall never leave ourhands.'

  "'Not while we live!' declar's Peets.

  "'It's a marv'lous picture
!' returns the little Joolie girl, proud andtearful both at once.

  "'Marv'lous!' repeats Peets; 'it's got the _Angelus_ beat four waysfrom the Jack.'

  "'Which I should remark!' puts in Boggs. 'Why, Doc, this yere _Linden_of ours shore makes that _Angelus_ thing look like an old beerstamp.'

  "These yere outpourin's of onreestricted admiration shore does set thelittle Joolie to smilin' through her tears. Also, the bankroll theybrings her sends her back to her folks in style.

  "So you don't regyard it as the proper caper to go deceivin' thelittle Joolie girl? That's preecisely the p'sition a Bible sharp overin Tucson takes, when some party's mentionin' the business.

  "'You go tell that doubtin' Thomas of a sky-pilot,' says Peets, onhearin' about it, 'that he can bet a ton of Watts' hymn books on it.You-all say, too, for his pulpit guidance, that what looks likedeceit, that a-way, is often simple del'cacy, while Christian charityfreequent w'ars the face of fraud.'

  "But I'm gettin' ahead of the wagons. Mike, who's a heap heated, goeslookin' for the Bug in the Tub of Blood S'loon. The Bug don't happento be vis'ble no whar in the scen'ry when Mike comes clatterin' in. Byway of a enterin' wedge Mike subscribes for a drink. As the Tubbarkeep goes settin' out the glasses Mike, with his custom'ry giftsfor gettin' himse'f in wrong, starts fomentin' trouble. An' at thatit's simply his ignorance, an' a conceited deesire to show off amongthem Red Dogs.

  "As the Tub barkeep slams down the crockery Mike barks up sort o'sharp an' peevish:

  "'The ice! Ain't you people got no ice?'

  "The Tub barkeep takes a sour squinch-owl look at Mike. Then he goessoftly swabbin' off the counter.

  "After a while he looks up an' says:

  "'Which you don't notice no swirlin' drifts of snow outside, do you?You ain't been swallowed up in no blizzard, be you, comin' into town?No, my stilted, stiff-laigged sheep of the mountain, we ain't got noice.'

  "Mike, feelin' some buffaloed by the barkeep's manner, don't say nomore. In silence he drinks his licker, an' then sets down at a table.

  "The barkeep, with the tail of his eye, continyoos to look him over.

  "'Whatever do you make of that crazy maverick,' he asks of afreighter, who's jest rolled in from Lordsburg. 'The idee of himaskin' for ice in August!'

  "'Mebby he's the ha'r-brained party they sends word about fromWolfville,' the freighter replies--'him who's out to crawl the Bug'shump a whole lot?'

  "'That's the identical persimmon!' exclaims the barkeep, slammin' hishand on the counter. 'Which I ought to have knowed it without bein'told. I wonder if Peets, or some of them other Wolfville sports, putshim up to come bully-raggin' round yere about ice to insult us?'

  "The freighter allows he'll edge into a pow-wow with Mike, an' feelhim out.

  "Planted at the same table, the freighter an' Mike is soon as thick asthieves. They're gettin' along like two pups in a basket, when incomes a disturbin' element in the shape of one of them half-hosshalf-alligator felons, whose distinguishin' characteristic is thatthey're allers grouchy an' hostile. That's the drawback to Red Dog. Itcertainly is the home camp of some of the most ornery reptiles, thata-way!

  "The grouchy sorehead party, from the jump, gets dissatisfied aboutMike's ha'r, which he w'ars a foot long same as all artists. Which agent can't be no painter onless he's got ha'r like a cow pony. Thesorehead party marches up an' down by the table whar Mike an' thefreighter is swappin' lies, schemin' as to how he's goin' to make awarlike hook-up with Mike. After a spell he thinks he sees his waythrough, an' rounds to an' growls.

  "'What's that? Does one of your onparalleled tarrapins say somethingdeerog'tory about George Washin'ton?'

  "Both the freighter an' Mike looks up some amazed, but pleads notguilty. They ain't, they says, even thinkin' of Washin'ton.

  "'Which I begs your parding,' returns Sorehead, snortin' mightyhaughty an' elab'rate; 'I fancies I hears some one make someonbecomin' remark about Washin'ton. Mighty likely it's that licker Idrinkt last night.'

  "Two minutes later he halts ag'in.

  "'It ain't possible I'm mistook this time. An' at that I don'tprecisely ketch what you offensive ground-owls is observin' aboutThomas Jefferson?'

  "Mike an' the Lordsburg freighter insists vehement that thar's been noalloosion to Jefferson, none whatever.

  "'Parding!' Sorehead snorts; 'ag'in I asks parding! As former, I findsI'm barkin' at a bunch of leaves. My y'ear deeceives me into thinkin'that you two fool ground-owls is indulgin' in reecrim'nations ag'instThomas Jefferson.'

  "It's the third time, an' Sorehead's back, neck bowed an' fingersworkin'.

  "'Now thar's no error! Which one of you cheap prairie dogs makes thatlow-flung statement about old Andy Jackson? Let him speak up, an' I'llgive him a hundred dollars before devourin' his heart.'

  "'No one mentions Jackson,' says Mike, who's becomin' frightened an'fretted; 'whatever's the idee of any one talkin' about Jackson,anyhow?'

  "'Oh, ho! Perhaps, my bold galoot, you think old Andy ain't worthtalkin' about!'

  "Sayin' which, that sorehead malcontent reaches for Mike, an' the twogo sailin' 'round the room permiscus. Sorehead picks Mike up, an'sweeps a cord or two of glasswar' off the bar with him. Then heemploys him in bringin' down a picture from the wall. After which henacherally tosses him hither an' yon in the most irrel'vant way.

  "Sorehead has jest reached up with Mike, an' smashed a chandeliercarryin' fourteen coal-oil lamps, when in t'ars the Lightnin' Bug,white an' frothin'. The Bug don't waste no time lookin' for holds, butcasyooally, yet no less s'fficiently, snags onto Sorehead. Fixin' histen claws in him, the Bug fo'thwith embarks upon sech feats in theway of ground an' lofty tumblin' with that gladiator, as to make whathappens to Mike seem pooerile.

  "'Don't you-all know,' shouts the Bug, as, havin' done broke a cha'rwith Sorehead, he proceeds to deevote what's left of him to smashin' atable--'don't you-all know, you abandoned profligate, that this yereartist you've been maltreatin' is a pers'nal friend of mine, yerepresent in Red Dog to confab with me on important affairs? An' is itfor a houseless sot like you to take to minglin' with him malignant?Yereafter don't you-all so much as presoome to breathe without firstgettin' my permission so to do in writin'!'

  "As closin' the incident the Bug sends Sorehead hurtlin' through awindow, sash an' all. After which he dusts off his hands an' says:

  "'Gents, let's licker.'

  "The barkeep's that gratified he declar's the drinks is on the Tub.

  "'Also, the glass an' sash, Bug,' he adds.

  "Bein' refreshed, the Bug tenderly collects Mike, who's in a frayedan' fragmentary condition, an' gently freights him over to us on abuckboard. It's a week before Peets allows he's ag'in ready for theshow ring, an' he uses up enough co't plaster on him to kyarpet theRed Light. Little Joolie? We let's on to her that Mike meets up with ashe grizzly an' her cubs, an' while he cleans up that fam'ly henacherally gets chewed.

  "'Mike's shorely some abrated, ma'am,' explains Peets; 'but he'smendin' fast. When I first lays eyes on him, after he encounters thatbevy of b'ars, it's a question if his skin'll hold his principles. Butdon't take on, Ma'am; now I've got him headed right he'll be as goodas new in a week. Don't forget, too, that he shore does land that bandof grizzlies in the scrap-heap.'

  "Mike emerges from the hands of Peets filled with a pecooliar furrin'form of wrath, an' talkin' about his honor. It's Sorehead he's afternow. As a noble Pole, he says, he has been most contoomeliously used,an' insists upon a dooel. Not with the Bug, who's withdrew themorig'nal jedgments concernin' old Monte's portrait, an' substitootedtharfor the view that said picture's bound to become the artisticpride an' joy of Arizona. Mike wants to fight the onreegen'rateSorehead.

  "In the flush of their new friendship Mike asks the Bug to heel an'handle him. Also, it's warmin' to your better nacher to note theenthoosiasm wharwith the Bug takes up his dooties.

  "'It'll be six-shooters at ten paces,' he explains to Mike; 'an' ifyou only shoots like you paints, we'll send that tr
amp whar the wickedcease from troublin' an' the weary are at rest.'

  "The Red Dog chief gives his word to Enright that Mike ain't in nodanger.

  "'Comin' down to cases,' says the Red Dog chief; 'it's even money thatthis yere Sorehead crawfishes. If he don't we've got it all set up tohand him the Bug, instead of that Red Mike artist of yours. So you seethar's lit'rally nothin' for you-all wolves to worry over at all.'

  "'We-all wolves ain't in the habit of worryin' to any astoundin'extent,' returns Enright, some rigid; 'none the less, I allows I'lltake a look through the sights myse'f, merely by way of makin' shorewhich way the gun is p'inted. Thar's reasons, one of 'em a lovin'little blind girl, why we're not so plumb partic'lar about havin' thisyere alleged artist party put over the jump.'

  "The fight's a week away, an' by advice of the Bug, Mike decides toput a polish on his shootin'. This yere's reckoned a bright idee, themore since as near as we-all can jedge Mike never does pull a triggeronce since when his mother rocks his cradle an' warms his milk.

  "'Only,' warns Enright, as Mike goes makin' prep'rations, 'don'tyou-all go aimin' towards town none. We don't want no neeophytesbombardin' the village, which y'ar in an' y'ar out sees bullets enoughin the nacheral onfoldment of eevents.'

  "Mike, not havin' no gun, borrys a .45 of Moore. Thus equipped, hesecoores some cartridges at the Noo York store, an' la'nches forth. Noone goes with him, since he allows he'll shoot better if he's byhimse'f.

  "Thar's a powder house, belongin' to the Copper Queen Mine, about amile outside of town. It stands off by itse'f an' nothin' near it, noone honin' much to live neighbor to a ton or two of powder. It's aboutfifth drink time the mornin' Mike seelects for his practice shootin'when, like a bolt from the bloo, that Copper Queen powder house goesup with a most emphatic whang! What Peets calls the 'concussion'breaks windows in the Wells-Fargo office, an' shakes up the Red Lightto that extent it brings down Monte's picture an' busts it to fortyflinders on the bottles.

  "'Which for a moment,' says Black Jack, commentin' on the gen'ral messit makes, 'I thinks it's one of Colonel Sterett's _Coyote_ editorialson the licker question.'

  "That powder blow-up marks the onforchoonate last of Mike. Since henever does show up no more, an' a Mexican tendin' goats in thevicin'ty informs us he sees him pinnin' a target on the r'ar elevationof the powder house jest prior to the explosion, it's the commonfeelin' that the blow-up's caused by one of Mike's bullets, an' thatMike an' the powder reepos'tory takes flight simooltaneous. Only, asalready set fo'th, Peets claims that Mike knows what's comin'. MebbyPeets is right, an' mebby Mike that a-way commits sooicide. Whicheverit is, sooicide or accident, it's a mighty complete success; for theonly trace we're able to find of either Mike or the powder house is amost elab'rate hole in the ground.

  "'The same bein', as I holds, a most excellent feachure,' says Boggs,who loathes foonerals. 'This yere powder house way of cashin' in meetswith my approval. It shore don't leave no reemains!'"