is tur'ble.
I may be rough, and I ain't never been curried below the knees, but I'm
better to tie to than them sons of guns."

"I believe it," says she.

So we had a drink at the bar, and started out to investigate the
wonders of Cyanide.

Say, that night was a wonder. Susie faded after about three drinks,
but I didn't seem to mind that. I hooked up to another saloon kept by
a thin Dutchman. A fat Dutchman is stupid, but a thin one is all right.

In ten minutes I had more friends in Cyanide than they is fiddlers in
hell. I begun to conclude Cyanide wasn't so lonesome. About four
o'clock in comes a little Irishman about four foot high, with more
upper lip than a muley cow, and enough red hair to make an artificial
aurorer borealis. He had big red hands with freckles pasted onto them,
and stiff red hairs standin' up separate and lonesome like signal
stations. Also his legs was bowed.

He gets a drink at the bar, and stands back and yells:

"God bless the Irish and let the Dutch rustle!"

Now, this was none of my town, so I just stepped back of the end of the
bar quick where I wouldn't stop no lead. The shootin' didn't begin.

"Probably Dutchy didn't take no note of what the locoed little dogie
DID say," thinks I to myself.

The Irishman bellied up to the bar again, and pounded on it with his
fist.

"Look here!" he yells. "Listen to what I'm tellin' ye! God bless the
Irish and let the Dutch rustle! Do ye hear me?"

"Sure, I hear ye," says Dutchy, and goes on swabbin' his bar with a
towel.

At that my soul just grew sick. I asked the man next to me why Dutchy
didn't kill the little fellow.

"Kill him!" says this man. "What for?"

"For insultin' of him, of course."

"Oh, he's drunk," says the man, as if that explained anythin'.

That settled it with me. I left that place, and went home, and it
wasn't more than four o'clock, neither. No, I don't call four o'clock
late. It may be a little late for night before last, but it's just the
shank of the evenin' for to-night.

Well, it took me six weeks and two days to go broke. I didn't know sic
em, about minin'; and before long I KNEW that I didn't 'know sic 'em.
Most all day I poked around them mountains---not like our'n--too much
timber to be comfortable. At night I got to droppin' in at Dutchy's.
He had a couple of quiet games goin', and they was one fellow among
that lot of grubbin' prairie dogs that had heerd tell that cows had
horns.