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See the champion fighting jackass of the state vanquish the biggest grizzly in the Sierra mountains. "The unconquerable battling jackass who has whipped two bulls down at Sonora, and caused a mountain lion to turn tail. Step up, gents. Only a dollar to get inside the ropes," and Webfoot Watson waved a well-kept hand toward the arena.
Pardon me should I use the personal pronoun "I" too frequently, as I do not wish to be called egotistical, for I only write of what I saw as an humble private in the rear rank in an infantry regiment, commonly called "webfoot."
Nothing loath, Webfoot claimed the penalty from the crowd perched in the trees, in some instances not without the aid of his six-shooter, and the jack was then turned loose in the palisade. "He's eatin' grass," piped up old Grease-top Jamie. "Say, I can see twenty jackasses eatin', down to the boardin' house at Blue Tent any day, an' I don't have to pay no dollar, neither. Turn out ye'r baar!"
The shorter they are the smarter they are, remember that." "And if I sign J. P. Studdiford, or Julia P. Studdiford then oughtn't 'Mrs. J. N. go in one corner?" "Oh, NO, you poor webfoot! No. "Thanks," said Julia shyly. "You're welcome," Barbara said, smiling. "Are you ready to go down?"
But when my mind reverts to those scenes and times, I seem to live in another age and time and I sometime think that "after us comes the end of the universe." I am not trying to moralize, I am only trying to write a few scenes and incidents that came under the observation of a poor old Rebel webfoot private soldier in those stormy days and times.
Give 'im " but the little cinnamon bear reached the fence in three jumps, scaled it, and took to the grease-wood thickets in record time in spite of the yells and bullets of the disgruntled spectators. Webfoot had made even better time than the bear, and only the placid jack remained as a memento of the occasion.
"The Webfoot," who was the most unlucky man in camp, had been so wrought upon by the tale of one missionary who had lost his all many times in succession, sympathetically contributed his only shovel, for which act he was enthusiastically cursed and liberally treated at the bar, while the shovel was promptly sold at auction to the highest bidder, who presented it, with a staggering slap between the shoulders, to its original owner.
Oh, yes," he named the deepest place known "the sight of those webfoot boys to-day was too much for me; I'm going; and Dick, when I told her I was going " "Told whom?" "Aw, come, now, Dick, you know every bit as well as I know. Well, when I told her I was going I didn't dream I was going to tell her anything else; I give you my word!
You breed vermin in the brain to think of you! Your wife, your son, your dupes, every soul that touches you, mildews from a blight! You were born of ropery, and you go at it straight, like a webfoot to water. What's your boast? your mother's disgrace! You shame your mother. Your whole life's a ballad o' bastardy. You cry up the woman's infamy to hook at a father.
Men pitied absent miners all over the State, and wondered why this delightful lingering, long-drawn-out system of slaughter was not more popular than the brief and commonplace method of the revolver. The Webfoot rapturously and softly quoted the good Doctor Watt's: "My willing soul would stay In such a place as this, And "
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