It was all on account of the whiskey and the excitement, I reckon. I never used a weepon in my life before, Joe. I've fought, but never with weepons. They'll all say that. Joe, don't tell! Say you won't tell, Joe that's a good feller. I always liked you, Joe, and stood up for you, too. Don't you remember? You WON'T tell, WILL you, Joe?"

"Pard," I replies, "speakin' confidenshul an' between gent an' gent, this yere weepon is plumb novel to me." ""Which I allows as much," he says, "from the egreegious way you fidges with it. Now let me pass you-all a p'inter from the peaks of experience. You caper back to the tavern an' take that weepon off. Or what's as well, you pass it across to the barkeep.

Finally Adam set down the gun with a contented air, and observed, "Haow airly kin ye git up?" "At three, if you say so." "Waal, come along abaout four ter-morrer mornin', an' I'll take ye 'long o' me." "But I haven't any gun, Uncle Adam." "Don't need none! I'm a-goin' to show ye what guns Is fer. When you've got that idee bagged, it'll be time enough fer the weepon.

But I sez sadly, "I can't do much, Frederic. I am a woman, and the only weepon that is able to slay this demon is hung up there in Washington, D. C. Wimmen can't reach up to it, they can't vote. But you can; your arm is longer, and with that you can slay this demon as St. George slew the dragon.

"But it's noways fair rules," retorted Jerry; "father he flung down his weepon for to rub her knee when she hurt it herself wid the poker!" Jerry had lost his bet, as indeed he usually did, but for all that he remained a consistent supporter of the losing side.

No, it ain't that I allows he's out to queer my weepon none, but think of sech a pretence of innocence! I leaves it to you-all, collectif an' individooal, do you reckon now thar's anybody, however tender, who's that guileless as to go askin' a perfect stranger that a-way to pass him out his gun? I says no, this gent is overdoin' them roles. He ain't so tender as he assoomes.

"I wouldn't say I'm actually afraid of him, but I got an old mother in southern Idyho that's dependin' on me and I can't afford to take chances." "I'll go myself," said Canby, curtly. "Don't let him git the drop on you," Boise Bill warned him. "I never see anybody so quick as he is. He had out his weepon and was over the fire at me before I knew what was happenin'," with conviction.

An' also thar's a badger who lives clost to Coyote's dug-out. One day while this yere ill-tempered anamile is cocked up in the mouth of his hole, a blinkin' hatefully at surroundin' objects. Coyote cuts down on him with a Sharp's rifle he's got kickin' about his camp an' turns that weepon loose. "He misses the badger utter, but he don't know it none.

He lowered the gun and held it before him with pride: "Nancy, she's the dandiest piece o' iron that wuz ever twisted inter the shape of a weepon. Old 'Speakeasy's her name! She's got the softest voice that ever whispered death to a varmint or an Injun hit ain't much louder'n the crack of a whip, but, man alive, when she talks she says somethin'. 'Kerpeow! she whispers soft an' low!

"Now I thoroughly saveys," remarked the Old Cattleman reflectively, at a crisis in our conversation when the talk turned on men of small and cowardly measure, "I thoroughly saveys that taste for battle that lurks in the deefiles of folk's nacher like a wolf in the hills Which I reckons now that I, myse'f, is one of the peacefullest people as ever belts on a weepon; but in my instincts while I never jestifies or follows his example I cl'arly apprehends the emotions of a gent who convenes with another gent all sim'lar, an' expresses his views with his gun.