"Tucson Jennie, with little Enright Peets as the Hope of the Republic, is to ride inside the coach.
"Havin' got this far, Pete Bland submits that a tellin' number would be a sham battle, Red Dog ag'in Wolfville.
"Thar's opp'sition developed to this. Both Enright an' the Red Dog chief, as leaders of pop'lar feelin', is afraid that some sport'll forget that it ain't on the level, an' take to over-actin' his part.
"As the Red Dog chief expresses it:
"'Some gent might be so far carried away by enthoosiasm as to go to shootin' low, an' some other gent get creased.'
"'The same bein' my notion exact,' Enright chips in. 'Of course, the gent who thus shoots low would ondenyably do so onintentional; but what good would that do the party who's been winged, an' who mightn't live long enough to receive apol'gies?'
"'That's whatever!' says Jack Moore. 'A sham battle's too plumb apt to prove a snare. The more, since everybody's so onused to 'em 'round yere. A gent, by keepin' his mind firm fixed, might manage to miss once or twice; but soon or late he'd become preoccupied, an' bust some of the opp'sition before he could ketch himse'f.'
"Bland, seein' opinion's ag'inst a sham battle, withdraws the motion, an' does it plenty graceful for a gent who's onable to stand.
"'Enough said,' he remarks, wavin' a acquiescent paw. 'Ante, an' pass the buck.'
"The Lightnin' Bug, speakin' from the Red Dog side, insists that in the reg'lar course of things thar's bound to be oratory. In that connection he mentions a sharp who lives in Phoenix.
"'Which I'm shore,' says the Bug, 'he'd be gladly willin' to assist; an' you hear me he's got a tongue of fire! Some of you-all sports must have crossed up with him––Jedge Beebe of Phoenix?'
"'Jedge Beebe?' interjecks Monte, who's given a hostler his proxy to take out the stage because of thar bein' onlimited licker; 'me an' the Jedge stands drinkin' together for hours the last time he's in Tucson. But you're plumb wrong, Bug, about him bein' eloquent.'
"'Wrong?' the Bug repeats, mighty indignant.
"'Of course,' says Monte, rememberin' how easy heated the Bug is, an' that he looks on six-shooters as argyooments, 'I don't mean he can't talk none; only he ain't what the Doc yere calls no Demosthenes.'
"'Did you ever hear the Jedge talk?' demands the Bug.
"'Which I shore does,' insists Monte; 'I listens to him for two hours that time in Tucson. It's when they opens the Broadway Dance Hall.'
"'Whatever is his subject?' asks the Bug, layin' for to ketch Monte; 'what's the Jedge talkin' about?'
"'I don't know,' says Monte, wropped in his usual mantle of whiskey-soaked innocence; 'he didn't say.'
"The Bug's eyes comes together in a angry focus; he thinks he's bein' made game of.
"Tharupon Enright cuts in.
"'Bug,' he says, all sociable an' suave, 'you mustn't mind Monte. He's so misconstructed that followin' the twenty-fifth drink he goes about takin' his ignorance for information. No one doubts but you're a heap better jedge than him of eloquence, an' everything else except nosepaint. S'ppose you consider yourse'f a committee to act for the con'jint camps, an' invite this yere joorist to be present as orator of the day.'
"The Bug's brow cl'ars at this, an' he asshores Enright that he'll be proud to act as sech.
"'An', gents,' he adds, 'if you says he ain't got Patrick Henry beat to a standstill, may I never hold as good as aces-up ag'in.'
"The Red Dog chief announces that all hands must attend a free-for-all banquet which, inflooenced by the tenth drink, he then an' thar decides to give at Bland's Abe Lincoln House.
"'Said banquet,' he explains, 'bein' in the nacher of a lunch to be held at high noon. If the dinin' room of the Abe Lincoln House ain't spacious enough, an I'll say right yere it ain't, we'll teetotaciously set them tables in the street. That's my style! I wants everybody, bar Mexicans, to be present. When I gives a blow-out, I goes fo'th into the highways an' byways, an' asks the halt an' the lame an' the blind, like the good book says. Also, no gent need go prowlin' 'round for no weddin' garments wharin to come. Which he's welcome to show up in goat-skin laiggin's, or appear wropped in the drippin' an' offensive pelt of a wet dog.'
"The Red Dog chief, lest some of us is sens'tive, goes on to add that no gent is to regyard them cracks about the halt an' the lame an' the blind as aimed at Wolfville. He allows he ain't that invidious, an' in what he says is merely out to be both euphonious an' explicit, that a-way, at one an' the same time.
"To which Enright reesponds that no offence is took, an' asshores the Red Dog chief that Wolfville will attend the banquet all spraddled out.
"More licker, followed by gen'ral congratulations.
"Bland ag'in comes surgin' to the fore. This time he thinks that as a main feachure it would be a highly effective racket to reënact the surrender of Cornwallis to Washington.
"Tutt goes weavin' across to shake his hand.
"'Some folks allows, Pete,' says Tutt, 'that you're as whiskey-soaked an old fool as Monte. But not me, Pete, not your old pard, Dave Tutt! An' you hear me, Pete, that idee about Cornwallis givin' up his sword to Washington dem'nstrates it.'
"'You bet your life it does!' says Bland.
"'But is this yere surrender feasible?' asks Texas. 'Which, at first blink, it seems some cumbrous to me.'
"'It's as easy as turnin' jack,' declar's Tutt, takin' the play away from Bland. 'I've seen it done.'
"'As when an' whar?' puts in Cherokee.
"'Thar's a time,' says Tutt––'it's way back––when I sets into a little poker game over in El Paso, table stakes she is, an' cleans up for about $10,000. For mebby a week I goes 'round thinkin' that $10,000 is a million; an' after that I simply knows it is. These yere onnacheral riches onhinges me to a p'int whar I deecides I'll visit Chicago an' Noo York, as calk'lated to broaden me.'
"'Noo York!––Chicago!' interrupts the Bug. 'I once deescends upon them hamlets, an' I encounters this yere strikin' difference. In Chicago they wouldn't let me spend a dollar, while in Noo York they wouldn't let anybody else spend one.'
"'It's otherwise with me,' goes on Tutt, 'because for a wind-up I don't see neither. I'm young then, d' you see, an' affected by yooth an' wealth I takes to licker, with the result that I goes pervadin' up an' down the train, insistin' on becomin' person'ly known to the passengers.'
"'An' nacherally you gets put off,' says Boggs.
"'Not exactly, neither. Only the conductor, assisted by a bevy of brakemen, lays the thing before me in sech a convincin' shape that I gets off of my own accord. It seems that to be agree'ble, I proposes wedlock to a middle-aged schoolmarm, who allows that she sees no objection except I'm a perfect stranger. She says it ain't been customary with her much to go weddin' strangers that a-way, but if I'll get myse'f reg'larly introdooced, an' then give her a day or so to become used to my looks, she'll go me. It's then the conductor draws me aside, an' says, "I've a son about your age, my eboolient young sport, which is why I takes your part. My theery is that if you sticks aboard this train ontil we reaches Rock Island, you'll never leave that village a single man."
"'This sobers me,' Tutt continyoos, 'an' I hides in the baggage kyar ontil we reaches a camp called Sedalia, whar I quietly makes my escape. I'm that reelieved I gives the cabman $20 to let me drive, an' then starts in to wake things up. Which I shore wakes 'em! I comes down the main street like the breath of destiny; an', say, you ought to see them Missourians climb trees, an' gen'rally break for cover! It costs me $50; an' the jedge gives me his word that, only it's the Fo'th of Jooly, he'd have handed me two weeks in the calaboose. I clinks down the fifty pesos some grateful, an' goes bulgin' forth to witness the cer'monies. She's a jo-darter, that Sedalia cel'bration is! As Pete yere recommends, they pulls off the surrender of Cornwallis on the Fair grounds. Also, it's plumb easy. All you needs is mebby a couple of hundred folks on hosses, an' after that the rest's like rollin' off a log.'
"More is said as the drink goes round, an' Cornwallis surrender
in' to Washington takes hold of our imaginations. We throws dice, an' settles it that Red Dog'll be the English, with Bland as Cornwallis, while Wolfville acts as the Americans, Boggs to perform as Washington––Boggs bein' six foot an' some inches, besides as wide as a door. By the time we gets the stock of the Votes for Women S'loon fully drinked up everything's arranged.
"Onless you sees no objections, son, I'll gallop through the balance of this yere painful eepisode. The day comes round, bright an' cl'ar, an' the Copper Queen people gen'rously starts the ball a-rollin' by explodin' thirteen cans of powder, one for each of the orig'nal states. Then the procession forms, Nell in front as the Goddess. Thar's full two hundred of us, Wolfville an' Red Dog, on ponies. As to Missis Rucker, she's on top of the coach as Jestice, Tucson Jennie––with little Enright Peets lookin' like a young he cherub––inside, an' Monte pullin' the reins over the six hosses. We makes four trips between Wolfville an' Red Dog, crackin' off our good old '45s at irreg'lar intervals, Nell on her calico pony as the Goddess bustin' away with the rest.
"Little Enright Peets wants in on the pistol shootin', an' howls jes' like a coyote––as children will––ontil Boggs, who foresees it an' comes provided, gives him a baby pistol, a box of blank cartridges, an' exhorts him to cut loose. Which little Enright Peets shore cuts loose, all right; an', except that he sets fire to the coach a few times, an' makes Missis Rucker oneasy up on top––her fearin' that mebby some of them blanks has bullets in 'em by mistake––he has a perfectly splendid time.
"The procession over, we eats up the Red Dog chief's banquet, wharat every brand of airtights is introdooced. That done, we listens to Jedge Beebe, who soars an' sails an' sails an' soars, rhetorical, for mebby it's a hour, an' is that eloquent an' elevated he never hits nothin' but the highest places.
"The Red Dog chief makes a speech, an' proposes 'Wolfville'; to which Peets––by Enright's request––reesponds, an' offers 'Red Dog.' It's bottoms up to both sentiments; for thar's no negligence about the drinks, Black Jack havin' capered fraternally over to he'p out his overworked barkeep brother of the Red Dog Tub of Blood.
"When no one wants to further drink or eat or talk, we reepa'rs to a level place between the two camps to go through the Cornwallis' surrender. The rival forces is arrayed opp'site, Cornwallis Bland in a red coat, an' Washington Boggs in bloo an' buff, accordin' to the teachin's of hist'ry. Both of 'em has sabers donated from the Fort.
"When all's ready Washington Boggs an' Cornwallis Bland rides out in front ontil they're in easy speakin' distance. Cornwallis Bland's been over-drinkin' some, an' is w'arin' a mighty deefiant look.
"After a spell, nothin' bein' spoke on either side, Washington Boggs calls out:
"'Is this yere Gen'ral Cornwallis?'
"'Who you talkin' to?' demands Cornwallis Bland, a heap contemptuous an' insolent.
"Peets has done writ out words for 'em to say, but neither uses 'em. Observin' how Cornwallis Bland conducts himse'f, Washington Boggs waves his sword plenty vehement, which makes his pony cavort an' buckjump, an' roars:
"'Don't you try to play nothin' on me, Gen'ral Cornwallis. Do you or do you not surrender your mis'rable blade?'
"'Surrender nothin'!' Cornwallis Bland sneers back, meanwhile reelin' in his saddle. 'Thar's never the horned-toad clanks a spur in Cochise County can make me surrender. Likewise, don't you-all go wavin' that fool weepon at me none. I don't valyoo it more'n if it's a puddin' stick. Which I've got one of 'em myse'f'––yere he'd have lopped off one of his pony's y'ears, only it's so dull––'an' I wouldn't give it to a yellow pup to play with.'
"'For the last time, Cornwallis,' says Washington Boggs, face aflame with rage, 'I commands you to surrender.'
"'Don't let him bluff you, Pete,' yells a bumptious young cow-puncher who belongs on the Red Dog-English side. 'Which we can wipe up the plains with that Wolfville outfit.'
"The Red Dog chief bats the young trouble-makin' cow-puncher over the head with his gun, an' quietly motions to the Lightnin' Bug an' a fellow Red Dog to pack what reemains of him to the r'ar. This done, he turns to reemonstrate with Cornwallis Bland for his obstinancy. He's too late. Washington Boggs, who's stood all he will, drives the spurs into his pony, an' next with a bound an' a rush, he hits Cornwallis Bland an' his charger full chisle.
"The pony of Cornwallis Bland fa'rly swaps ends with itse'f, an' Cornwallis would have swapped ends with it, too, only Washington Boggs collars an' hefts him out of his saddle.
"'Now, you onwashed drunkard, will you surrender?' roars Washington Boggs, shakin' Cornwallis Bland like a dog does a rat, ontil that British leader drops all of his hardware, incloosive of his pistol––'now will you surrender, or must I break your back across your own pony, as showin' you the error of your ways?'
"It looks like thar's goin' to be a hostile comminglin' of all hands, when––her ha'r streamin' behind her same as if she's a comet––Missis Bland comes chargin' up.
"'Yere, you drunken villyun!' she screams to Boggs, 'give me my husband this instant, onless you wants me to t'ar your eyes out!'
"'It's him who's to blame, ma'am,' says Enright mildly, comin' to Boggs' rescoo; 'which he won't surrender.'
"'Oh, he won't, won't he?' says Missis Bland, as she hooks onto Cornwallis Bland. 'You bet he'll surrender to me all right, or I'll know why.'
"As the Red Dog chief is apol'gizin' to Enright, who's tellin' him not to mind, Cornwallis Bland is bein' half shoved an' half drug, not to mention wholly yanked, towards the Abe Lincoln House by Missis Bland.
"That's the end. This yere ontoward finale to our cel'bration gets wide-flung notice in print, an' instead of bein' a boost, as we-all hopes, Wolfville an' Red Dog becomes a jest an' jeer. Also, while it don't sour the friendly relations of the two camps, the simple mention of Fo'th of Jooly leaves a bitter taste in the Wolfville-Red Dog mouth ever since."
* * *
VII
PROPRIETY PRATT, HYPNOTIST
"Do I ever see any folks get hypnotized? Which I witnesses a few sech instances. But it's usually done with a gun. If you're yearnin' to behold a party go into a trance plumb successful an' abrupt, get the drop on him. Thar ain't one sport in a hundred who can look into the muzzle of a Colt's .45, held by a competent hand, without lapsin' into what Peets calls a 'cataleptic state.'
"Shore, son, I savvys what you means."
The last was because I had begun to exhibit signs of impatience at what I regarded as a too flippant spirit on the part of my old cattleman. In the polite kindliness of his nature he made haste to smooth down my fur.
"To be shore I onderstands you. As to the real thing in hypnotism, however, thar arises as I recalls eevents but few examples in Arizona. The Southwest that a-way ain't the troo field for them hypnotists, the weak-minded among the pop'lation bein' redooced to minimum. Now an' then of course some hypnotic maverick, who's strayed from the eastern range, takes to trackin' 'round among us sort o' blind an' permiscus. But he never stays long, an' is generally tickled to death when some vig'lance committee so far reelents as to let him escape back.
"Over in Bernilillo once, I'm present when a mob gets its rope onto one of these yere wizards, an' it's nothin' but the mercy of hell an' the mean pars'mony of what outcasts has him in charge, which saves him from bein' swung up. Mind you, it ain't no vig'lance committee, but a mob, that's got him.
"Whatever is the difference?
"Said difference, son, is as a spanless gulf. A vig'lance committee is the coolest kind of comin' together of the integrity an' the brains of a commoonity. A mob, on the other hand, is a chance-blown convention of deestructionists, as savagely brainless as a pack of timber wolves. A vig'lance committee seeks jestice; a mob is merely out for blood."
"About this Bernilillo business?"
The old gentleman, as though the recital might take some time, signalled the black attendant to bring refreshments. The bottle comfortably at his elbow, he proceeded.
"I was thar, as I says, but I take
s no part for either 'yes' or 'no,' bein' no more'n simply a 'looker on in Vienna,' as the actor party observes over in the Bird Cage Op'ry House. Thar's one of them hypnotizin' sharps who's come bulgin' into Bernilillo to give a show. Nacherally the local folks raps for a showdown; they insists he entrance some one they knows, an' refooses to be put off by him hypnotizin' what herd of hirelin's he's brought with him, on the argyooment that them humbugs is in all likelihood but cappers for his game.
"Thus stood up, the professor, as he calls himself, begins rummagin' 'round for a subject. Thar's a little Frenchman who's been pervadin' about Bernilillo, claimin' to be a artist. Which he's shore a painter all right. I sees him myse'f take a bresh an' a batch of colors, an' paint a runnin' iron so it looks so much like wood it floats. Shore; Emil––which this yere genius' name is Emil––as a artist that a-way is as good as jacks-up before the draw.
"The hypnotic professor runs his eye over the audjence. In a moment he's onto Emil, an' begins to w'irl his hypnotic rope. It's Emil bein' thin an' weakly an' bloodless, I reckon, that attracts him. This yere Emil ain't got bodily stren'th to hold his own ag'in a high wind, an' the professor is on at a glance that, considered from standp'ints of hypnotism, he ought to be a pushover.
"Emil don't hone to be no subject, but them Bernilillo hold-ups snatches onto him in spite of his protests, an' passes him up onto the stage to the professor. They're plenty headlong, not to say boorish, them Bernilillo ruffians be; speshully if they've sot their hearts on anythin', an' pore Emil stands about the same show among 'em as a cottontail rabbit among a passel of owls.
"For myse'f, I allers adheres to a theery that what follows is to be laid primar'ly to the door of the Bernilillo pop'lace. Which it's themselves, not the professor, they'd oughter've strung up. You see this Emil artist person blinks out onder the spells of the professor, an' never does come to no more. The professor hypnotizes Emil, but he can't onhypnotize him. Thar he sets as dead as Davy Crockett.
Faro Nell and Her Friends Page 10