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Updated: May 1, 2025
"After he's broke, Steve h'ists in a drink or two an' sours 'round a whole lot; an' jest as the trey-full boy gets into his saddle, Steve comes roamin' along up an' hails him. "'Pard, says Steve, a heap gloomy, 'I've been tryin' to school myse'f to b'ar it, but it don't go. Tharfore, I'm yere to say you steals that pa'r of kings as completed my rooin.
"'Give us your hand, pard, says Texas, a heap effoosive, as he comes up to the Signal party; 'I learns from our common friend, Dave Tutt, that this yere's a mistake, an' I tharfore forgives you freely all the trouble you causes. It's over now an' plumb forgot. You're a dead game sport, an' I shakes your hand with pride.
An', as I says, if you confines the festivities to them females engaged, an' prevents the men standin' in on the play, it's shore to wind up in sobs an' forgiveness, an' tharfore it don't go. "As I says, what I now relates is the only industrial trouble I recalls in Wolfville.
An' it's the same about wealth; one gent gets the b'ar an' the other nineteen an' they're as cunnin' an' industr'ous as the lucky party don't get nothing don't even get a shot. I repeats tharfore, that you-all settin' yere this evenin', firin' off aimless observations, don't know whether you'll quit rich or not."
It tharfore befalls that when I makes my deboo among 'em, them canines, blinded an' besotted as I say with thoughts of coon, prounces upon me in a body. Every dog rends off a speciment of me. They don't bite twice; they perceives by the taste that it ain't no coon an' desists.
Tharfore, when this gent names four bits, I onpouches the dinero an' prepares to take a astronomic peek. ""How long do I gaze for four bits?" I asks, battin' my right eye to get it into piercin' shape. ""Go as far as you likes," retorts the philosopher; "thar's no limit."
Go tharfore, an' heel yourse'f, for by next drink time the avenger 'll be huntin' on your trail. I gives you half an hour to live. Not on your account, 'cause it ain't comin' to you; but merely not to ketch no angels off their gyard, an' to allow 'em a chance to organize for your reception. Besides, I don't aim to spring no corpses on this camp.
"Curly Ben is 'bad' plumb through, an' the sights, as they says in the picturesque language of the Southwest, has been filed from his guns for many years. Which this last is runnin' in Moon's head while he talks with his disgustin' emmissary. Moon ain't out to take chances on gettin' the worst of it. An' tharfore, Moon at once waxes cunnin' a whole lot.
"Stanton, who's a big body of a man an' nacherally tharfore some road-weary, camps down the moment he's free of the stirrups an' writes a letter on the agency steps by the light of a lantern. He tells Merritt to push on to the War Bonnet an' he'll head the Cheyennes off.
Tharfore, I reiterates that this yere Major Ben an' Bowlaigs accomplishes between 'em the only troo casooalty whereof Wolfville has a record."
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