"'The ice! Ain't you people got no ice?'
"The Tub barkeep takes a sour squinch-owl look at Mike. Then he goes softly 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 no ice.'
"Mike, feelin' some buffaloed by the barkeep's manner, don't say no more. 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 a freighter, who's jest rolled in from Lordsburg. 'The idee of him askin' for ice in August!'
"'Mebby he's the ha'r-brained party they sends word about from Wolfville,' the freighter replies––'him who's out to crawl the Bug's hump a whole lot?'
"'That's the identical persimmon!' exclaims the barkeep, slammin' his hand on the counter. 'Which I ought to have knowed it without bein' told. I wonder if Peets, or some of them other Wolfville sports, puts him 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' feel him out.
"Planted at the same table, the freighter an' Mike is soon as thick as thieves. They're gettin' along like two pups in a basket, when in comes a disturbin' element in the shape of one of them half-hoss half-alligator felons, whose distinguishin' characteristic is that they're allers grouchy an' hostile. That's the drawback to Red Dog. It certainly is the home camp of some of the most ornery reptiles, that a-way!
"The grouchy sorehead party, from the jump, gets dissatisfied about Mike's ha'r, which he w'ars a foot long same as all artists. Which a gent can't be no painter onless he's got ha'r like a cow pony. The sorehead party marches up an' down by the table whar Mike an' the freighter is swappin' lies, schemin' as to how he's goin' to make a warlike hook-up with Mike. After a spell he thinks he sees his way through, an' rounds to an' growls.
"'What's that? Does one of your onparalleled tarrapins say something deerog'tory about George Washin'ton?'
"Both the freighter an' Mike looks up some amazed, but pleads not guilty. They ain't, they says, even thinkin' of Washin'ton.
"'Which I begs your parding,' returns Sorehead, snortin' mighty haughty an' elab'rate; 'I fancies I hears some one make some onbecomin' remark about Washin'ton. Mighty likely it's that licker I drinkt last night.'
"Two minutes later he halts ag'in.
"'It ain't possible I'm mistook this time. An' at that I don't precisely ketch what you offensive ground-owls is observin' about Thomas Jefferson?'
"Mike an' the Lordsburg freighter insists vehement that thar's been no alloosion to Jefferson, none whatever.
"'Parding!' Sorehead snorts; 'ag'in I asks parding! As former, I finds I'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'inst Thomas Jefferson.'
"It's the third time, an' Sorehead's back, neck bowed an' fingers workin'.
"'Now thar's no error! Which one of you cheap prairie dogs makes that low-flung statement about old Andy Jackson? Let him speak up, an' I'll give 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 worth talkin' about!'
"Sayin' which, that sorehead malcontent reaches for Mike, an' the two go sailin' 'round the room permiscus. Sorehead picks Mike up, an' sweeps a cord or two of glasswar' off the bar with him. Then he employs him in bringin' down a picture from the wall. After which he nacherally tosses him hither an' yon in the most irrel'vant way.
"Sorehead has jest reached up with Mike, an' smashed a chandelier carryin' fourteen coal-oil lamps, when in t'ars the Lightnin' Bug, white an' frothin'. The Bug don't waste no time lookin' for holds, but casyooally, yet no less s'fficiently, snags onto Sorehead. Fixin' his ten claws in him, the Bug fo'thwith embarks upon sech feats in the way of ground an' lofty tumblin' with that gladiator, as to make what happens to Mike seem pooerile.
"'Don't you-all know,' shouts the Bug, as, havin' done broke a cha'r with Sorehead, he proceeds to deevote what's left of him to smashin' a table––'don't you-all know, you abandoned profligate, that this yere artist you've been maltreatin' is a pers'nal friend of mine, yere present in Red Dog to confab with me on important affairs? An' is it for a houseless sot like you to take to minglin' with him malignant? Yereafter don't you-all so much as presoome to breathe without first gettin' my permission so to do in writin'!'
"As closin' the incident the Bug sends Sorehead hurtlin' through a window, 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 frayed an' fragmentary condition, an' gently freights him over to us on a buckboard. It's a week before Peets allows he's ag'in ready for the show ring, an' he uses up enough co't plaster on him to kyarpet the Red Light. Little Joolie? We let's on to her that Mike meets up with a she grizzly an' her cubs, an' while he cleans up that fam'ly he nacherally gets chewed.
"'Mike's shorely some abrated, ma'am,' explains Peets; 'but he's mendin' fast. When I first lays eyes on him, after he encounters that bevy of b'ars, it's a question if his skin'll hold his principles. But don't take on, Ma'am; now I've got him headed right he'll be as good as new in a week. Don't forget, too, that he shore does land that band of 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 after now. As a noble Pole, he says, he has been most contoomeliously used, an' insists upon a dooel. Not with the Bug, who's withdrew them orig'nal jedgments concernin' old Monte's portrait, an' substitooted tharfor the view that said picture's bound to become the artistic pride an' joy of Arizona. Mike wants to fight the onreegen'rate Sorehead.
"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 the enthoosiasm wharwith the Bug takes up his dooties.
"'It'll be six-shooters at ten paces,' he explains to Mike; 'an' if you only shoots like you paints, we'll send that tramp whar the wicked cease from troublin' an' the weary are at rest.'
"The Red Dog chief gives his word to Enright that Mike ain't in no danger.
"'Comin' down to cases,' says the Red Dog chief; 'it's even money that this yere Sorehead crawfishes. If he don't we've got it all set up to hand him the Bug, instead of that Red Mike artist of yours. So you see thar'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'll take a look through the sights myse'f, merely by way of makin' shore which 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' this yere alleged artist party put over the jump.'
"The fight's a week away, an' by advice of the Bug, Mike decides to put a polish on his shootin'. This yere's reckoned a bright idee, the more since as near as we-all can jedge Mike never does pull a trigger once since when his mother rocks his cradle an' warms his milk.
"'Only,' warns Enright, as Mike goes makin' prep'rations, 'don't you-all go aimin' towards town none. We don't want no neeophytes bombardin' the village, which y'ar in an' y'ar out sees bullets enough in the nacheral onfoldment of eevents.'
"Mike, not havin' no gun, borrys a .45 of Moore. Thus equipped, he secoores some cartridges at the Noo York store, an' la'nches forth. No one goes wi
th him, since he allows he'll shoot better if he's by himse'f.
"Thar's a powder house, belongin' to the Copper Queen Mine, about a mile outside of town. It stands off by itse'f an' nothin' near it, no one honin' much to live neighbor to a ton or two of powder. It's about fifth drink time the mornin' Mike seelects for his practice shootin' when, like a bolt from the bloo, that Copper Queen powder house goes up with a most emphatic whang! What Peets calls the 'concussion' breaks windows in the Wells-Fargo office, an' shakes up the Red Light to that extent it brings down Monte's picture an' busts it to forty flinders on the bottles.
"'Which for a moment,' says Black Jack, commentin' on the gen'ral mess it makes, 'I thinks it's one of Colonel Sterett's Coyote editorials on the licker question.'
"That powder blow-up marks the onforchoonate last of Mike. Since he never does show up no more, an' a Mexican tendin' goats in the vicin'ty informs us he sees him pinnin' a target on the r'ar elevation of the powder house jest prior to the explosion, it's the common feelin' that the blow-up's caused by one of Mike's bullets, an' that Mike an' the powder reepos'tory takes flight simooltaneous. Only, as already set fo'th, Peets claims that Mike knows what's comin'. Mebby Peets is right, an' mebby Mike that a-way commits sooicide. Whichever it is, sooicide or accident, it's a mighty complete success; for the only trace we're able to find of either Mike or the powder house is a most 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 meets with my approval. It shore don't leave no reemains!'"
* * *
X
HOW TUTT SHOT TEXAS THOMPSON
"Which they starts the yarn in Red Dog that the shootin' that time between Tutt an' Texas is born of sectional feelin', an' because Texas is a southern gent, while Tutt comes from the No'th. Sech explainations is absurd––as Doc Peets well says. Also, I'm yere to go one word further an' state that, while it's like them Red Dogs, idle an' mendacious as they freequent be, to go fosterin' sech fictions, thar ain't a syllable of trooth tharin from soda to hock. The flareup has its start in them two children, Annalinda Thompson an' little Enright Peets, an' what sentiments of rivalry nacherally seizes on Tutt an' Texas as parent an' uncle reespective."
"Still there must have been some degree of sectional feeling among you," I said, more by way of stirring my old cattleman up than any nobler purpose; "coming some of you from the South, and others from the North, it would have been strange indeed had it been otherwise."
"Which it's shore strange, then. Them Wolfville pards of mine is one an' all United States men. They ain't Southern men, nor No'thern men, nor Eastern men, nor even Western men. Likewise, the improodent sport who'd go trackin' 'round, ondertaikin' to designate 'em as sech, would get toomultuous action, plenty soon and plenty of it.
"Why, take Texas himse'f: Thar's a fly-by-night party pesterin' 'round camp for a space, who lets on he's from the same neck of woods as Texas. This yere annoyin' fraud is a heap proud of it, too, an' makes a speshulty of bein' caught a lot in Texas' company. He figgers it gives him a standin'.
"One mornin', when only a few of us is pervadin' 'round, he plants himse'f plumb comfortable an' important in a Red Light cha'r, an' followin' the 'nitial drink for the day goes to talkin' with Texas.
"As he sets thar, all fav'rable an' free, thar comes trackin' in a aged Eastern gent, who's been negotiatin' with Armstrong about business concernin' the Noo York store. The aged Eastern shorthorn goes rockin' up to the counter, an' p'litely lets on to Black Jack that he'll licker. As he does so this yere firegilt party who boasts he's of the same range an' breed as Texas speaks up, sharp an' coarse, like the bark of a dog:
"'Yere, you! I wants a word or two with you-all!'
"With that for a start he onfurls what he preetends is his grievances, the same bein' because of somethin' the aged Eastern sport does or don't do comin' over on Monte's stage––which they're fellow passengers that time, it seems––an' next he cuts loose, an' goes to vitooperatin' an' reecrim'natin', an' pilin' insult on epithet, that a-way, to beat four of a kind. Which he certainly does give that aged Eastern person a layin' out! Shore; he's jest showin' off at that, an' tryin' to impress Texas.
"At the beginnin' the aged Eastern gent stands like he's dazed, onable to collect himse'f. However, he gets his mental feet onder him, an' allowin' he won't stay none to listen to sech tirades, tucks away his nosepaint an' pulls out.
"After he's gone the vitooperative party wheels so's to face Texas, an' says––mighty pleasant an' agree'ble, like the object of the meetin's been most happ'ly accomplished:
"'Thar, that shows you.'
"'Whatever does it show?' Texas asks, some grim.
"'Which it shows the difference between a No'thern gent an' a Southern gent. To be shore, that old cimmaron ain't half my size an' is twict my age, but all the same, Texas, if he's from the South, you bet, like you an' me, he'd tore into me, win or lose, if he'd got killed!'
"'You think so?' says Texas, his eyes becomin' as hard an' glitterin' as a snake's. 'Now let me tell you something, my lionhearted friend. Thar's brave men South, an' brave men No'th. Also, thar's quitters; quitters at both ends of that No'thern-Southern trail who'll go into the water like a mink. Accordin' to my experiences, an' I've been dallyin' with hoomanity in the herd for quite some time, thar's nothin' in that geographical bluff of yours at all. Moreover, I reckons that before I'm through, seein' now you've got me goin', I'll prove it. For a starter, then, takin' your say-so for it, you're a Southern man?'
"'Which that's shore c'rrect,' the other responds, but feeble; 'you an' me, as I says former, is both Southern men.'
"'Bueno! Now as calk'lated to demonstrate how plumb onfounded is them theeries of yours'––yere Texas gets up, an' kicks his cha'r back so he's got room––'I has pleasure in informin' you that you're a onmitigated hoss-thief;––an' you don't dare stand up. Yes, sir; you're onfit to drink with a nigger or eat with a dog;––an' you'll set thar an' take it.'
"Which that aboosive party, pale as paper, certainly does 'set thar an' take it' preecisely as Texas prophecies; an' after glowerin' at him, red-eyed an' f'rocious for a moment, Texas sticks his paws in his jeans, an' sa'nters off.
"It's jest as well. Why, if that humbug so much as curls a lip or crooks a finger, after Texas takes to enunciatin' them prop'sitions in philosophy, Texas'd have tacked him to the table with his bowie an' left him kickin', same as them goggled-eyed professors who calls themselves nacheralists does some buzzin' fly with a pin.
"'Which, if thar's anything,' Texas explains to Enright, 'that makes me tired partic'lar, it's them cracks about No'th an' South. If I was range boss for these yere United States I'd shore have them deescriptives legislated into a cap'tal offence.'
"'Sech observations as that narrow tarrapin onbosoms,' comments Enright, 'only goes to show how shallow he is. Comin' down to the turn, even that old Eastern shorthorn's walkin' away from him don't necessar'ly mean a lack of sand. Folks does a heap of runnin' in this vale of tears, but upon various an' varyin' argyooments. A gent runs from a polecat, an' he runs from a b'ar; but the reason ain't the same.'
"Thar's no sectionalisms in Tutt's differences with Texas, none whatever. Also, while it finds, as I holds, its roots in Annalinda an' little Enright Peets, it don't arise from nothin' which them babies does to one another. Two pups in the same basket, two birds on the same bough, couldn't have got along more harmon'ous. The moment Nell brings little Enright Peets over to see Annalinda them children falls together like a shock of oats, an' at what times they're onhobbled of fam'ly reestrictions an' footloose so to do, you'd see 'em playin' 'round from sun-up till dark, same as a pa'r of angels.
"Troo, Annalinda does domineer over little Enright Peets, an' makes him fetch an' carry an' wait on her; an' thar's times, too, when she shore beats him up with a stick or quirt some lib'ral. But what else would you expect? I even encounters little Enright P
eets, down on all-fours, an' Annalinda ridin' him like he's a hoss. Likewise, she's kickin' his ribs a heap, to make him go faster. But that's nothin'; them two babies is only playin'.
"Not that I'm none so shore it ain't this yere last identical spectacle which gives Nell the notion of them two children marryin' at some footure day. That, however, is merest surmise, an' in a manner onimportant. What I'd like to get proned into you-all is that Texas an' Tutt lockin' horns like they does has its single cause in them latent jealousies an' struggles for social preecedence, which is bound to occur between a only father an' a only uncle wharever found. Which the single safegyard lies in sech a multitoode of fathers an' uncles as renders 'em common. To possess but one of each makes 'em puffed up an' pride-blown, an' engenders a mootual uppishness which before all is over is shore to man'fest itse'f in war.
"Thar's one boast we-all is able to make, however. That clash between Tutt an' Texas is the only shore-enough trouble which ever breaks out among the boys. You onderstands, of course, that when I says 'boys' that a-way, I alloodes to Enright an' Peets an' them others who constitootes Wolfville's social an' commercial backbone. Thar's other embroglios more or less smoky an' permiscus, which gets pulled off one way an' another, but they ain't held to apply to us of rights. For sech alien hookups, so to speak, we reefooses all reespons'bility. Which we regyards them escapades as fortooitous, an' declines 'em utter. Tutt's goin' against Texas is the only war-jig we feels to be reely Wolfville's."
"You forget," I said teasingly, "the shooting between Boggs and Tutt, as incident to the Washerwoman's War."
"Which, that?" There was impatience tinged with acrimony in the tones. "That's nothin' more'n gallantry. It's what's to be looked for whar thar's ladies about, an' is doo to a over-effervescence of sperit, common to the younger males of our species when made gala an' giddy by the alloorin' flutter of a petticoat. Boggs an' Tutt don't honestly mean them bullets none. Also, if you-all is goin' to keep on with your imbecile interruptions, I'll quit."
Faro Nell and Her Friends Page 15