"'Then this yere vociferous Purple Blossom pauses for breath; but keeps up his stilt-laig dance, considerin' me meanwhile with his eye, plenty baleful. We-all on our parts is viewin' him over a heap respectful, an' ain't retortin' a word. Then he begins ag'in with a yelp that would stampede a field of corn.
"'"Who is thar lovelier than Polly Hawks!" he shouts. "Show me the female more entrancin', an' let me drop dead at her feet! Who is lovelier than Polly Hawks, the sweetheart of Flyin' Bison, the onchained tornado of the hills! Feast your gaze on Polly Hawks; her beauty would melt the heart of Nacher! I'm the Purple Blossom of Gingham Mountain; Polly Hawks shall marry an' follow me to my wigwam! Her bed shall be of b'ar-skins; her food shall be yearlin' venison, an' wild honey from the tree! Her gown shall be panther's pelts fringed 'round with wolf-tails an' eagles' claws! She shall belt herse'f with a rattlesnake, an' her Sunday bonnet shall be a swarm of bees! When I kiss her it sounds like the crack of a whip, an' I wouldn't part with her for twenty cows! We will wed an' pop'late the earth with terror! Where is the sooicide who'll stand in my way?"
"'At this p'int the Purple Blossom leaves off dancin' an' fronts up to me, personal.
"'"Whoopee!" he says; "say that you don't love the girl an' I'll give you one hundred dollars before I spills your life!"
"'Which, of course, all these yere moosical an' terpshicoreen preeliminaries means simply so much war between me an' this sperited beau of Polly's, to see who'll own the lady's heart. I explains that I'm not jest then fit for combat, sufferin' as I be from that overabundance of dog an' b'ar. The Purple Blossom is plumb p'lite, an' says he don't hunger to whip no cripples. Then he names a day two months away when he allows he'll shore descend from Gingham Mountain, melt me down an' run me into candles to burn at the weddin' of him an' Polly Hawks. Then we drinks together, all fraternal, an' he gives me a chew of tobacco outen a box, made of the head of a bald eagle, in token of amity, that a-way.
"'But that rumpus between the Purple Blossom an' me never does come off; an' them rites over me an' Polly is indef'nitely postponed. The fact is, I has to leave a lot. I starts out to commit a joke, an' it turns out a crime; an' so I goes streakin' it from the scenes of my yoothful frolics for safer stampin' grounds.
"'It's mebby six weeks followin' them declarations of the Purple Blossom. It's co't day at War-whoop Crossin', an' the Jedge an' every law-sharp on that circuit comes trailin' into camp. This yere outfit of Warwhoop is speshul fretful ag'inst all forms of gamblin'. Wherefore the Jedge, an' the state's attorney, an' mebby five other speculators, at night adjourns to the cabin of a flat-boat which is tied up at the foot of the levee, so's they can divert themse'fs with a little draw-poker without shockin' the hamlet an' gettin' themse'fs arrested an' fined some.
"'It's gone to about fourth drink time after supper, an' I'm romancin' about, tryin' to figger out how I'm to win Polly, when as I'm waltzin' along the levee—I'm plumb alone, an' the town itse'f has turned into its blankets—I gets sight of this yere poker festival ragin' in the cabin. Thar they be, antein', goin' it blind, straddlin', raisin' before the draw, bluffin', an' bettin', an' havin' the time of their c'reers.
"'It's the spring flood, an' the old Cumberland is bank-full an' still a-risin'. The flat boat is softly raisin' an' fallin' on the sobbin' tide. It's then them jocular impulses seizes me, that a-way; an' I stoops an' casts off her one line, an' that flat boat swims silently away on the bosom of the river. The sports inside knows nothin' an' guesses less, an' their gayety swells on without a hitch.
"'It's three o'clock an' Jedge Finn, who's won about a hundred an' sixty dollars, realizes it's all the money in the outfit, an' gets cold feet plenty prompt. He murmurs somethin' about tellin' the old lady Finn he'd be in early, an' shoves back amidst the scoffs an' jeers of the losers. But the good old Jedge don't mind, an' openin' the door, he goes out into the night an' the dark, an' carefully picks his way overboard into forty foot of water. The yell the Jedge emits as he makes his little hole in the Cumberland is the first news them kyard sharps gets that they're afloat a whole lot.
"'It ain't no push-over rescooin' Jedge Finn that time. The one hundred an' sixty is in Mexican money, an' he's got a pound or two of it sinkered about his old frame in every pocket; so he goes to the bottom like a kag of nails.
"'But they works hard, an' at last fishes him out, an' rolls him over a bar'l to get the water an' the money outen him. Which onder sech treatment, the Jedge disgorges both, an' at last comes to a trifle an' is fed whiskey with a spoon.
"'Havin' saved the Jedge, the others turns loose a volley of yells that shorely scares up them echoes far an' wide. It wakes up a little old tug that's tied in Dead Nigger Bend, an' she fires up an' pushes forth to their relief. The tug hauls 'em back to Warwhoop for seventy dollars, which is paid out of the rescooed treasure of Jedge Finn, the same bein' declar'd salvage by them bandits he's been playin' with.
"'It's two o'clock in the afternoon when that band of gamblers pulls up ag'in at Warwhoop, an' they're shorely a saddened party as they files ashore. The village is thar in a frownin' an' resentful body to arrest 'em for them voylations, which is accordin' done.
"'At the same time, I regyards the play as the funniest, ondoubted, that's ever been evolved in Tennessee; but my mood changes as subsequent events assoomes a somber face. Old Jedge Finn goes fumin' about like a wronged lion, an' the rest is as hot as election day in a hornet's nest. Pards, I'm a Mexican! if they don't indict me for piracy on the high seas, an' pledge their words to see me hanged before ever co't adjourns.
"'That lets me out, right thar! I sees the symptoms of my onpop'larity in advance, an' don't procrastinate none. I goes sailin' over the divide to the Tennessee, down the Tennessee to the Ohio, down the Ohio to the Mississippi, down the Mississippi to the Arkansaw, up the Arkansaw to Little Rock; an' thar I pauses, exhausted shore, but safe as a murderer in Georgia. Which I never does go back for plumb ten years.
"'Nacherally, because of this yere exodus, I misses my engagements with the Purple Blossom; also them nuptials I plots about Polly Hawks, suffers the kybosh a whole lot. However, I survives, an' Polly survives; she an' the Purple Blossom hooks up a month later, an' I learns since they shore has offsprings enough to pack a primary or start a public school. It's all over long ago, an' I'm glad the kyards falls as they do. Still, as I intimates, thar's them moments of romance to ride me down, when I remembers my one lone love affair with Polly Hawks, the beauty of the Painted Post.'
"Enright pauses, an' we-all sets still a moment out of respects to the old chief. At last Dan Boggs, who's always bubblin' that a-way, speaks up:
"'Which I'm shore sorry,' says Dan, 'you don't fetch the moosic of that Purple Blossom's war-song West. I deems that a mighty excellent lay, an' would admire to learn it an' sing it some myse'f. I'd shore go over an' carol it to Red Dog; it would redooce them drunkards to frenzy."'
CHAPTER XVIII.
Where Whiskey Billy Died.
"Lies in the lump that a-way," said the Old Cattleman, apropos of some slight discussion in which we were engaged, "is bad—an' make no doubt about it!—that is, lies which is told malev'lent.
"But thar's a sort of ranikaboo liar on earth, an' I don't mind him nor his fabrications, none whatever. He's one of these yere amiable gents who's merely aimin' to entertain you an' elevate your moods; an' carryin' out sech plans, he sort o' spreads himse'f, an' gets excursive in conversation, castin' loose from facts as vain things onworthy of him. Thar used to be jest sech a mendacious party who camps 'round Wolfville for a while—if I don't misrecollect, he gets plugged standin' up a through stage, final—who is wont to lie that a-way; we calls him 'Lyin' Amos.' But they're only meant to entertain you; them stories be. Amos is never really out to put you on a wrong trail to your ondoin'.
"We-all likes Amos excellent; but, of course, when he takes to the hills as a hold-up, somebody has to down him; an' my mem'ry on that p'int is, they shorely do. What for lies would this yere Amos tell? W
ell, for instance, Amos once regales me with a vivid picture of how he backs into a corner an' pulls his lonely gun on twenty gents, all 'bad.' This yere is over in Deming. An' he goes on dilatin' to the effect that he stops six of 'em for good with the six loads in his weepon, an' then makes it a stand-off on the remainin' fourteen with the empty gun.
"'It is the slumberin' terrors of my eye, I reckons,' says this
Lyin' Amos.
"Which it's reason, an' likewise fact, that sech tales is merest figments on their faces; to say nothin' of the hist'ry of that camp of Deming, which don't speak of no sech blood.
"But, as I says, what of it? Pore Lyin' Amos!—he's cashed in an' settled long ago, like I mentions, goin' for the Wells-Fargo boxes onct too frequent! Which the pitcher goes too often to the well, that a-way, an' Amos finds it out! Still, Amos is only out to entertain me when he onfurls how lucky an' how ferocious he is that time at Deming. Amos is simply whilin' the hours away when he concocts them romances; an' so far from bein' distrustful of him on account tharof, or holdin' of him low because he lets his fancy stampede an' get away with him, once we saveys his little game in all its harmlessness, it makes Amos pop'lar. We encourages Amos in them expansions.
"Speakin' of lyin', an' bein' we're on the subject, it ain't too much to state that thar's plenty o'casions when lyin' is not only proper but good. It's the thing to do.
"Comin' to cases, the world's been forever basin' its game on the lies that's told; an' I reckons now if every gent was to turn in an' tell nothin' but the trooth for the next few hours, thar would be a heap of folks some hard to find at the close of them mootual confidences. Which places now flourishin' like a green bay-tree would be deserted wastes an' solitoodes. Yes, as I says, now I gets plumb cog'tative about it, sech attempts to put down fiction might result in onpreecedented disaster. Thar be times when trooth should shorely have a copper on it; but we lets that pass as spec'lative.
"As my mind is led back along the trail, thar looms before the mirror of mem'ry a hour when the whole Wolfville outfit quits every other game to turn itse'f loose an' lie. Which for once we takes the limit off. Not only do we talk lies, we acts 'em; an' Enright an' Doc Peets an' Texas Thompson, as well as Moore an' Tutt an' Boggs, to say nothin' of myse'f an' Cherokee Hall, an' the rest of the round-up, gets in on the play. Which every gent stands pat on them inventions to this yere day, disdainin' excooses an' declinin' forgiveness tharfor. Moreover, we plays the same system ag'in, layout an' deal box bein' sim'lar. The fact is, if ever a outfit's hand gets crowded, it's ours.
"The demands for these yere falsehoods has its first seeds one evenin' when a drunken party comes staggerin' into camp from Red Dog. It's strange; but it looks like Wolfville has a fasc'nation for them Red Dog sots; which they're allers comin' over. This victim of alcohol is not a stranger to us, not by no means; though mostly he holds his revels in his Red Dog home. His name I disremembers, but he goes when he's in Wolfville by the name of 'Whiskey Billy.' If he has a last name, which it's likely some he has, either we never hears it or it don't abide with us. Mebby he never declar's himse'f. Anyhow, when he gets his nose-paint an' wearies folks in Wolfville, sech proceedin's is had onder the nom de ploome of 'Whiskey Billy,' with nothin' added by way of further brands or y'ear-marks tharonto.
"This partic'lar date when he onloads on us his companionship,
Whiskey Billy is shore the drunkest an' most ediotic I ever sees.
Troo, he saveys enough to pull his freight from Red Dog; but I
allers allows that's merely the work of a loocid interval.
"Whiskey Billy ain't brightened Wolfville with his society more'n an hour—he only gets one drink with us—when he lapses into them treemors. An', you hear me, son, he shorely has 'em bad; Huggins' attacks that a-way is pooerile to 'em.
"It looks like that Red Dog whiskey is speshul malignant. I've beheld gents who has visions before ever Whiskey Billy emits that preelim'nary yelp in the Red Light, an' allows that Black Jack is pawin' 'round to skelp him; but I'm yere to remark, an' ready to enforce my statements with money, argyments or guns, I never witnesses no case which is a four-spot to Whiskey Billy's.
"Why, it gets so before he quits out—which he does after frothin' at the mouth for days, an' Boggs, an' Tutt, an' Jack Moore, with Doc Peets soopervisin', ridin' herd onto him an' holdin' him down in his blankets all the time—that if Whiskey Billy goes to take a drink of water, he thinks the beverage turns to blood. If he sees anythin' to eat, it changes into a Gila monster, or some sech creepin' an' disrepootable reptile; an' Billy jest simply r'ars back an' yells.
"As I intimates, he yields to them errors touchin' his grub an' drink for days; followin' which, Billy nacherally gives way to death, to the relief of all concerned.
"'You can gamble I'm never so pleased to see a gent die in my life!' says Dan Boggs.
"It's most likely the second day after Billy's been seein' things, an' we've corraled him in a wickeyup out back of the dance hall, when Doc Peets is in the Red Light thoughtfully absorbin' his whiskey.
"'This yere riotous patient of mine,' says Peets, as he leans on the bar an' talks general an' free to all, 'this noisy party whom you now hears callin' Dan Boggs a rattlesnake, bein' misled to that extent by Red Dog licker, has a ca'm moment about first drink time this mornin', an' beseeches me to send for his mother. As a sick gent has a right to dictate terms that a-way, I dispatches a telegram to the lady he names, sendin' of the same by Old Monte to be slammed through from Tucson. I reckons she gets it by now. Old Monte an' the stage has been in Tucson for more'n an hour, an' as 'lectricity is plenty sudden as a means, I takes it Whiskey Billy's mother is informed that he's askin' for her presence.'
"'Which if he's callin' an' honin' for his mother,' says Texas Thompson, who's at the bar with Peets, 'it's cattle to sheep he's a goner. You can allers tell when a sport is down to his last chip; he never omits to want to see his mother.'
"'That's whatever!' says Enright. 'Like Texas, I holds sech desires on the part of this yere Red Dog martyr as markin' the beginnin' of the end.'
"'Bein' he's plumb locoed,' remarks Pests, after Texas an' Enright expresses themse'fs, 'I takes the liberty to rustle them clothes of Billy's for signs. I developed letters from this near relatif he's clamorin' for; also a picture as shows she's as fine a old lady as ever makes a flapjack. From the way she writes, it's all plain an' easy he's been sendin' her some rainbows about how he's loomin' up, like Slim Jim does his sister that a-way. He's jest now industriously trackin' 'round, lookin' to locate himse'f as a lawyer. I don't reckon this yere mother has the slightest idee he's nothin' more'n a ragged, busted victim of Red Dog. Lookin' at it that a-way,' concloodes Pests, 'I'm wonderin' whether I don't make a crazy-boss play sendin' this lady them summons.'
"'When she gets here, if she comes,' says Enright, an' his voice shows a heap of sympathetic interest; 'when she finds out about Whiskey Billy, it's goin' to break her heart. That she ain't game to make the trip is shorely to be hoped.'
"'You can gamble a pony she comes,' says Texas. 'If it's a wife, now, like mine—which goes ropin' 'round for a divorce over in Laredo recent; an', as you-all is aware, she shorely ties it down— thar might be a chance out ag'in her advent. But bein' she's his mother, Wolfville may as well brace itse'f for the shock.'
"'I don't reckon thar's no doubt of it, neither,' replies Enright, drawin' a sigh; 'which bein' the case, we've got to organize. This camp must turn in when she gets here an' deloode that pore old mother into the belief that her son Billy's been the prop an' stay of Arizona, an' that his ontimely cuttin' off quenches the most shinin' light that a-way of the age wherein we lives.'
"'Mighty likely,' says Peets, 'we gets a message from her to-morry, when Old Monte trails in. That'll tell us what to expect. I'm like you-all, however; I don't allow thar's a morsel of doubt about that mother comin'.'
"'Which I shorely hopes she does,' says Texas 'an' I yereby drinks to it, an' urges every gent likewise. If t
har's a thing on earth that melts me, it's one o' them gray-ha'red old ladies. Young females that a-way is all right, an' it's plenty nacheral for a gent to be cur'ous an' pleased tharwith; but I never does track up with an old lady, white-ha'red an' motherly mind you, but I takes off my sombrero an' says: "You'll excuse me, marm, but I wants to trespass on your time long enough to ask your pardon for livin'." That's right; that's the way I feels; plumb religious at the mere sight of 'em. If I was to meet as many as two of 'em at onct, I'd j'ine the church. The same bein' troo, I'm sayin' that this yere Whiskey Billy's mother can't strike camp too soon nor stop too long for Texas Thompson.'
Wolfville Days Page 22