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I'm come new to the camp from some'ers down 'round Seven Rivers in the Pecos country, an' I don't know a gent. Which I'm by nacher gregar'ous; so not knowin' folks that a-way weighs on me; an' the first night I'm thar, I hastens to remedy this yere evil.
Does it hurt him? Son, them wires t'ars enough hide off Johnny, from some'ers about the hock, to make a saddle cover, an' he loses blood sufficient to paint a house. He comes mighty near goin' shy a laig on the deal. It's a lesson on c'rrect costumes that Johnny don't soon forget. "No, I never rides a hoss none now. These yere Eastern saddles ain't the right model.
H'as h'I see it, there's gold in this land just h'as h'I said before, plenty of it. H'and this 'ere tribe, way west there some'ers; they's been driven there by the Roosians, er by other tribes. Mayhaps they's Roosian h'exiles themselves. 'Owever that may be, it's there, and h'I 'ates to think 'ow rich you h'and h'I'd be h'if h'it wasn't fer this 'ere crazy Doctor's achin' to see th' Pole."
"'I'm mighty sorry, says Silver Phil, 'that you-all lays out your game in a fashion that so much depends on me. The more so, since the longer I considers this racket, the less likely it is I'll be thar. It's almost a cinch, with the plans I has, that I'll shore be some'ers else.
"'Thar's a ugly outcast of a squatter, mattock in hand, comes tumblin' down the hillside from some'ers out back of the shanty where he's been grubbin': ""What be you-all eediots chasin' my dog for?" demands this onkempt party. Then he menaces us with the implement. "'We makes no retort but stands passive.
But thar's something comin' to the public, Doc; so I yereby leaves word that next week, or next month, or mebby later, if doubts is expressed of my fate, I'm still flutterin' about the scenery some'ers an' am a long ways short of dead.
He was a-tellin' me, too, as how he had a daughter like me that died 'way back some'ers about when I was a yearlin'. He feels a heap bad about it yet, an' I gets so sorry for him; so old an' white-ha'red. "'An' you can gamble, says Dave Tutt, 'if Nell likes him, he's all right. "'If Nell likes him, that makes him all right, says Cherokee.
"You're going to kill her?" asked Tessibel, dully. "Yep," flung in Brewer, "if ye say so." Mrs. Brewer was crying softly. Her husband turned fiercely upon her. "Ma, here," said he, "air makin' some awful fuss over nothin'. She wants the kid took out of the state an' put some'ers. Us men says it air got to die." "It air too awful, Tessie," sobbed Mrs. Brewer. "The baby ain't done nothin'."
It's like two Injuns talkin'. It all winds up by the Deef Woman p'intin' out on her way some'ers East, an' thar ain't one of us ever sees the Major, the Deef Woman, the kid, nor yet this Pinon Bill, no more. Which this last, however, is not regarded as food for deep regrets," "Don't I never tell you the story of the death of Crawfish Jim?"
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