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As thar's no sky pilot to confide in, this drunkard figgers that Peets 'll do, an' with that he onloads on Peets how, bein' as he is a stage book-keep over in Red Dog, he's in cahoots with a outfit of route agents an' gives 'em the word when it's worth while to stand-up the stage. An' among other crim'nal pards of his this terrified person names that outlaw Silver Phil.
Missis Rucker for one thing ain't over fond of Bowlaigs, allegin' as he grows older day by day he looks more an' more like Rucker. Of course, sech views is figments as much as the alarms of Tucson Jennie about Bowlaigs meditatin' gettin' away with little Enright Peets; but Missis Rucker, in spite of whatever we gent folks can say in Bowlaigs's behalf, believes firm in her own slanders.
"'Which your eyes is younger, says Enright. 'You cut loose; an' I'll stand by to back the play. Only aim plenty low. You can't he'p over-shootin' in the dark. Hold as low as his stirrup. "Peets pulls himse'f up straight as a saplin' an' runs his left hand along the bar'l as far as his arm'll reach. An' he hangs long on the aim as shootin' in the dark ain't no cinch.
Both of 'em is aware of this hamlet, an' Peets, partic'lar, is well acquainted with a old Mexican sharp who lives thar he's a kind o' schoolmaster among 'em who's mighty cunnin' an' learned. His name is Jose Miguel. "'An' I'm beginnin' to figger, says Peets, 'that this ghostly rider is the foxy little Jose Miguel.
Where he's partic'lar strong, this yere Road Runner, is in waitin' ontil some gent comes along, same as Doc Peets an' me that time, an' then attachin' of himse'f said cavalcade an' racin' along ahead. A Road Runner keeps up this exercise for miles, an' be about the length of a lariat ahead of your pony's nose all the time.
Doc Peets tells him himse'f one day he's plumb wrong. "'You-all's nacherally a somber, morose party, says Doc Peets this time, 'an' nothin' jocose or jocund about you. Your disp'sition, Jaybird, don't no more run to jokes than a prairie-dog's." "'Which I would admire to know why not? says Jaybird Bob. "'Well, goes on Doc Peets, 'you thinks too slow too much like a cow in a swamp.
We-alls looks at Old Man Gentry, an' he shorely seems to cripple down. "'Gentry, says Peets, after Old Monte tells his adventures, 'I hears you tell Nell you was sleepin' all day. S'pose you takes this yere committee to your budwer an' exhibits to us how it looks some. "'The turn's ag'in me, says the old man, 'an' I lose. I'll cut it short for you-alls.
It gives the procession a chance to spread an' show up. You can't make no funeral imposin' except you're plumb liberal on distances. "It all goes smooth right off the reel. We gets a box an' grave ready, an' Peets sticks up a notice on the stage-station door, settin' the excitement for third-drink time next day.
"However, that don't seem to occur to Tucson Jennie; an' Doc Peets who's the wisest sharp in Arizona allows to me afterwards as how Tucson Jennie is cuttin' the kyards with herse'f desp'rate to see whether she declar's war at the very time we makes our start. If she does, she turns the low kyard, for she don't say nothin', an' we gets away, an' all is profound peace.
"'That wouldn't do, says Doc Peets, 'but anyhow yere comes Wilkins how, an' if, as Enright says, the're out of chuck up his way, I reckons I'll lose a small bet to the old shorthorn ontil sech times as we devises some scheme all reg'lar. "'Howdy, Wilkins? says Doc, mighty gay an' genial, 'how's things stackin' up? "'Mighty ornery, says Wilkins.
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