Wolfville Days

by Lewis, Alfred Henry

  "Which the West is a great place to dig out new appellations that a- way. Thar's a gentle-minded party comes soarin' down on Wolfville one evenin'. No, he don't own no real business to transact; he's out to have a heart-to-heart interview with the great Southwest, is the way he expounds the objects of his search.

  "'An' he's plenty tender,' says Black Jack, who's barkeep at the Red Light. 'He cornes pushin' along in yere this mornin'; an' wliat do you-all reckon now he wants. Asks for ice! Now whatever do you make of it! Ice in August, an' within forty miles of the Mexico line at that. "Pard," I says, "we're on the confines of the tropics; an' while old Arizona is some queer, an' we digs for wood an' climbs for water, an' indulges in much that is morally an' physically the teetotal reverse of right-side-up-with-care, so far in our meanderin's we ain't oncovered no glaciers nor cut the trail of any ice. Which if you've brought snowshoes with you now, or been figgerin' on a Arizona sleighride, you're settin' in hard luck."'

  "Jest as Black Jack gets that far in them statements, this yere tenderfoot shows in the door.

  "'Be you a resident of Wolfville?' asks this shorthorn of Dave Tutt.

  "'I'm one of the seven orig'nal wolves,' says Tutt.

  "'Yere's my kyard,' says the shorthorn, an' he beams on Dave in a wide an' balmy way.

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

  "The shorthorn allows it is, an' surveys Dave in a woozy way like he ain't informed none of the meanin' of these yere manoovers.

  "'Did you-all come through Tucson with this name?' asks Dave.

  "He says he does.

  "'An' wasn't nothin' said or done about it?' demands Dave; 'don't them Tucson sports take no action?'

  "He says nothin' is done.

  "'It's as I fears,' says Dave, shakin' his head a heap loogubrious, 'that Tucson outfit is morally goin' to waste. It's worse than careless; it's callous. That's whatever; that camp is callous. Was you aimin' to stay for long in Wolfville with this yere title?' asks Dave at last.

  "The shorthorn mentions a week.

  "'This yere Wolfville,' explains Dave, 'is too small for all that name. Archibald Willingham De Graffenreid Butt! It shorely sounds like a hoss in a dance hall. But it's too long for Wolfville, an' Wolfville even do her best. One end of that name is bound to protrood. Or else it gets all brunkled up like along nigger in a short bed. However,' goes on Dave, as he notes the shorthorn lookin' a little dizzy, 'don't lose heart. We does the best we can. I likes your looks, an' shall come somewhat to your rescoo myse'f in your present troubles. Gents,' an' Dave turns to where Boggs an' Cherokee an' Texas Thompson is listenin', 'I moves you we suspends the rooles, an' re-names this excellent an' well-meanin' maverick, "Butcherknife Bill."'

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

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

  "But to go back to my long ago camp on the Caliente. Prince Hal is a polished an' p'lite sort o' anamile. The second day after I pitches camp, Prince Hal shows up. He paws the grass, an' declar's himse'f, an' gives notice that while I'm plumb welcome, he wants it onderstood that he's party of the first part in that valley, an' aims to so continyoo. As I at once agrees to his claims, he is pacified; then he counts up the camp like he's sizin' up the plunder. It's at this point I signs Prince Hal as my friend for life by givin' him about a foot of bacon-skin. He stands an' chews on that bacon-skin for two hours; an' thar's heaven in his looks. "It gets so Prince Hal puts in all his spar' time at my camp. An' I donates flapjacks, bacon-skins an' food comforts yeretofore onknown to Prince Hal. He regyards that camp of mine as openin' a new era on the Caliente.

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

  "Which we're all gettin' on as pleasant an' oneventful as a litter of pups over on the Caliente, when one mornin' across the divide from Red River comes this yere pugnacious person, Hotspur. He makes his advent r'arin' an' slidin' down the hillside into our valley, promulgatin' insults, an' stampin' for war. You can see it in Hotspur's eye; he's out to own the Caliente.

  "Prince Hal is curryin' a pony when this yere invader comes crashin' down the sides of the divide. His eyes burn red, he evolves his warcry in a deep bass voice, an' goes curvin' out onto the level of the valley-bottom to meet the enemy. Gin'ral Jackson, couldn't have displayed more promptitood.

  "Thar ain't much action in one of them cattle battles. First, Hotspur an' Prince Hal stalks 'round, pawin' up a sod now an' then, an' sw'arin' a gale of oaths to themse'fs. It looks like Prince Hal could say the most bitter things, for at last Hotspur leaves off his pawin' ail' profanity an' b'ars down on him. The two puts their fore'ards together an' goes in for a pushin' match.

  "But this don't last. Hotspur is two years older, an' over-weighs Prince Hal about three hundred pounds. Prince Hal feels Hotspur out, an' sees that by the time the deal goes to the turn, he'll be shore loser. A plan comes into his mind. Prince Hal suddenly backs away, an' keeps on backin' ontil he's cl'ared himse'f from his foe by eighty feet. Hotspur stands watchin'; it's a new wrinkle in bull fights to him. He call tell that this yere Prince Hal ain't conquered none, both by the voylent remarks he makes as well as the plumb defiant way he wears his tail. So Hotspur stands an' ponders the play, guessin' at what's likely to break loose next.

  "But the conduct of this yere Prince Hal gets more an' more mysterious. When he's a safe eighty feet away, he jumps in the air, cracks his heels together, hurls a frightful curse at Hotspur, an' turns an' walks off a heap rapid. Hotspur can't read them signs at all; an' to be frank, no more can I. Prince Hal never looks back; he surges straight ahead, climbs the hill on the other side, an' is lost in the oak bushes.

  "Hotspur watches him out of sight, gets a drink in the Caliente, an' then climbs the hillside to where I'm camped, to decide about me. Of course, Hotspur an' I arrives at a treaty of peace by the bacon-rind route, an' things ag'in quiets down on the Caliente.

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

  "At la
st I'm made posted of impendin' events. Across the wide Caliente comes a faint but f'rocious war song. I glance over that a- way, an' thar through the oak bresh comes Prince Hal. An' although he's a mile off, he's p'intin' straight for this yere invader, Hotspur. At first I thinks Prince Hal's alone, an' I'm marvellin' whatever he reckons he's goin' to a'complish by this return. But jest then I gets a glimmer, far to Prince Hal's r'ar, of that reedic'lous Pistol, the milk-white steer.

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

  "It's allers a question with me why this yere foolhardy Hotspur don't stampede out for safety. But he don't; he stands thar lookin' onusual limp, an' awaits his fate. Prince Hal don't rush up an' mingle with Hotspur; he's playin' a system an' he don't deviate tharfrom. lie stands off about fifty yards, callin' Hotspur names, an' waitin' for Falstaff to arrive.

  "An' thar's a by-play gets pulled off. This ranikaboo Pistol, who couldn't fight a little bit, an' who's caperin' along ten rods in the lead of Falstaff, gets the sudden crazy-boss notion that he'll mete out punishment to Hotspur himse'f, an' make a reputation as a war-eagle with his pard an' patron, Falstaff. With that, Pistol curves his tail like a letter S, and, lowerin' his knittin'-needle horns, comes dancin' up to Hotspur. The bluff of this yere ignoble Pistol is too much. Hotspur r'ars loose an' charges him. This egreegious Pistol gets crumpled up, an' Hotspur goes over him like a baggage wagon. The shock is sech that Pistol falls over a wash-bank; an' after swappin' end for end, lands twenty feet below with a groan an' a splash in the Caliente. Pistol is shorely used up, an' crawls out on the flat ground below, as disconsolate a head o' cattle as ever tempts the echoes with his wails.

  "But Hotspur has no space wherein to sing his vict'ry. Falstaff decends upon him like a fallin' tree. With one rushin' charge, an' a note like thunder, he simply distributes that Hotspur all over the range. Thar's only one blow; as soon as Hotspur can round up his fragments an' net to his hoofs, he goes sailin' down the valley, his eyes stickin' out so's he can see his sins. As he starts, Prince Hal, who's been hoppin' about the rim of the riot, claps his horns to Hotspur's flyin' hocks an' keeps him goin'. But it ain't needed none; that Falstaff actooally ruins Hotspur with the first charge.

  "That night Falstaff, with the pore Pistol jest able to totter, stays with us, an' Prince Hal fusses an' bosses' 'round, sort o' directin' their entertainment. The next afternoon Falstaff gives a deep bellow or two, like he's extendin' 'adios' to the entire Caliente canyon, an' then goes pirootin' off for home in Long's, with Pistol, who looks an' feels like a laughin' stock, limpin' at his heels. That's the end. Four days later, as I'm swingin' 'round the range, I finds Falstaff an' Pistol in Long's Canyon; Prince Hal is on the Caliente; while Hotspur—an' his air is both wise an' sad- -is tamely where he belongs on the Upper Red. An' now recallin' how I comes to plunge into this yere idyl, I desires to ask you-all, however Prince Hal brings Faistaff to the wars that time, if cattle can't talk?"

  CHAPTER XII.

  How Wolfville Made a Jest.

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

  "Don't make no mistaken notions about Wolfville bein' a idle an' a dangerous camp. Which on the contrary, Wolfville is shorely the home of jestice, an' a squar' man gets a squar' game every time. Thar ain't no 'bad men' 'round Wolfville, public sentiment bein' obdurate on that p'int. Hard people, who has filed the sights offen their six-shooters or fans their guns in a fight, don't get tolerated, none whatever.

  "Of course, thar's gents in Wolfville who has seen trouble an' seen it in the smoke. Cherokee Hall, for instance, so Doc Peets mentions to me private, one time an' another downs 'leven men.

  "But Cherokee's by nacher kind o' warm an' nervous, an' bein' he's behind a faro game, most likely he sees more o'casion; at any rate, it's common knowledge that whatever he's done is right.

  "He don't beef them 'leven in Wolfville; all I recalls with us, is the man from Red Dog, the Stingin' Lizard, an' mebby a strayed Mexican or so. But each time Cherokee's hand is forced by these yere parties, an' he's exculpated in every gent's mind who is made awar' tharof.

  "No; Cherokee don't rely allers on his gun neither. He's a hurryin' knife fighter for a gent with whom knives ain't nacher. Either way, however, gun or knife, Cherokee is a heap reliable; an' you can put down a bet that what he misses in the quadrille he'll shore make up in the waltz with all who asks him to a war dance. But speakin' of knives: Cherokee comes as quick an' straight with a bowie as a rattlesnake; an' not half the buzz about it.

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

  "It's a fact; when Shotgun Dowling capers in an' allows he's about to abide with us a whole lot, he's notified to hunt another hole the first day.

  "'So far from you-all livin' with us, Shotgun,' says Jack Moore, who's depooted to give Shotgun Dowling the rein; 'so far from you bunkin' in yere for good, we ain't even aimin' to permit your visits. My notion is that you better pull your freight some instant. Thar's a half-formed thought in the public bosom that if anybody sees your trail to-morry, all hands'll turn in an' arrange you for the grave.'

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

  "What is the matter with Shotgun? Well, he's one of these yere murderin' folks, goin' about downin' Mexicans merely to see 'em kick, an' that sort of thing, an' all of which no se'f-respectin' outfit stands. He wins out his name 'Shotgun' them times when he's dep'ty marshal over at Prescott.

  "'You must be partic'lar an' serve your warrant on a gent before you downs him,' says the judge, as he gives Shotgun some papers. 'First serve your warrant, an' then it's legal to kill him; but not without!'

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

  "'Thar you be!' says Dowling. 'I reckons' now the warrant gets to him ahead of the lead; which makes it on the level.'

  "Tharupon Shotgun canters out an' busts his gent—warrant, lead an' all—an' that gives him the name of 'Shotgun' Dowling.

  "But at the time he comes riotin' along into Wolfville, allowin' he'll reside some, he's regyarded hard; havin' been wolfin' 'round, copperin' Mexicans an' friskin' about general; so, nacheral, we warns him out as aforesaid. Which I, tharfore, ag'in remarks, that Wolfville is a mighty proper an' peaceful place, an' its witticism with this yere Signal Service party needn't be inferred ag'inst it.

  "This yere gent has been goin' about casooal, an' his air is a heap high-flown. He's been pesterin' an' irritatin' about the post-office for mighty like an hour, when all at once he crosses over to the Red Light an' squar's up to the bar. He don't invite none of us to licker—jest himse'f; which onp'liteness is shore received invidious.

  "'Gimme a cocktail,' says this Signal person to the barkeep.

  "As they ain't mixin' no drinks at the Red Light for man or beast, nor yet at Hamilton's hurdy-gurdy, this sport in yooniform don't get no cocktail.

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

  "'Can't mix no cocktail?' says the Signal sharp. 'Why! what a band of prairie dogs thi
s yere hamlet is! What's the matter with you-all that you can't mix no cocktails? Don't you savey enough?'

  "'Do we-all savey enough?' says Black Jack, some facetious that a- way. 'Stranger, we simply suffers with what we saveys. But thar's a law ag'in cocktails an' all mixin' of drinks. You sees, a Mexican female over in Tucson is one day mixin' drinks for a gent she's a- harborin' idees ag'in, an' she rings in the loco onto him, an' he goes plumb crazy. Then the Legislatoore arouses itse'f to its peril, that a-way, an' ups an makes a law abatin' of mixed drinks. This yere bein' gospel trooth, you'll have to drink straight whiskey; an' you might as well drink it outen a tin cup, too.'

  "As he says this, Black Jack sets up a bottle an' a tin cup, an' then for a blazer slams a six-shooter on the bar at the same time. Lookin' some bloo tharat, the Signal sharp takes a gulp or two of straight nose-paint, cavilin' hot at the tin cup, an' don't mention nothin' more of cocktails.

  "'Whatever is the damage anyhow?' he says to Black Jack, soon as he's quit gaggin' over the whiskey, the same tastin' raw an' vicious to him, an' him with his lady-like throat framed ready for cocktails. 'What's thar to pay?'

  "'Nary contouse,' says Black Jack, moppin' of the bar complacent.

  'Not a soo markee. That drink's on the house, stranger.'

  "When this Signal sharp goes out, Enright says he's got pore manners, an' he marvels some he's still walkin' the earth.

  "'However,' says Enright, 'I s'pose his livin' so long arises mainly from stayin' East, where they don't make no p'int on bein' p'lite, an' runs things looser.'