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"It's in the O.K. restauraw, when Missis Rucker, who's feedin' us our mornin' flap-jacks an' salt hoss as usual, turns to Old Man Enright, an' says: "'As soon as ever I've got the last drunkard fed an' outen the house, I'm goin' to put on my shaker an' go an' tell that Tucson Jennie Tutt what's on my mind.
Which jest the same these children of nacher don't like the idee of downin' your parent none, an' it's apparent Bloojacket's already half exiled. "As he stands thar roominatin, with the hot August sun beatin' down, thar's a atmosphere of sadness to go with Bloojacket. But you-all would have to guess at it; his countenance is as ca'm as on that murderin' evenin' in the half-breed's restauraw.
"The O. K. Restauraw is one of the few superior hostelries of the Territory. Mrs. Rucker, its charming proprietress, is a cook who might outrival even that celebrated chef, now dead, M. Soyer. Her pies are poems, her bread an epic, and her beans a dream, Mrs.
My paw, old Ben Glegg, is on our trail not five miles behind; he'll land yere in half a hour an' I ain't none convinced he won't land shootin'. An' with this bluff, an' confidin' the preacher sharp to Peets, Abby goes curvin' over to the O.K. Restauraw. "However does this yere virgin look? Son, I hes'tates to deescribe a lady onless the facts flows fav'rable for her.
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