uahua, the Ridin' for the Chicken's
Head is about to commence. Which they're jest plantin' the chicken.
At first Nell don't savey, as she ain't posted deep on Mexican
pastimes. But Nell is plenty quick mental; as, actin' look-out for
Cherokee's bank, she's bound to be. Wherefore Nell don't study the
preeliminaries long before she gets onto the roodiments of some idee
concernin' the jocund plans of the Greasers.

"At last the chicken is buried, an' thar's nothin' in sight but its
anxious head. Except that it can turn an' twist its neck some, it's
fixed in the ground as firm an' solid as the stumps of a mesquite bush.

"The first Greaser--he's a gaudy party with more colours than you could
count in any rainbow--is organisin' for a rush. He's pickin' up his
reins an' pushin' his moccasins deep into his tappedaries, when, as he
gives his cayouse the spur, the beauty of Ridin' for the Chicken's Head
bursts full on Faro Nell. Comin' on her onexpected, Nell don't see no
pleasure in it. It don't present the attractions which so alloores the
heart of a Greaser. Without pausin' to think, an' feelin' shocked over
the fate that's ridin' down on the buried chicken, Nell grips her
little paws convulsive an' snaps her teeth. It's then her eye catches
Dan Boggs, who's contemplatin' details an' awaitin' the finish with
vivid interest.

"'Oh, Dan!' says Nell, grabbin' Dan's arm, 'I don't want that chicken
hurt none! Can't you-all make 'em stop?'

"'Shore!' says Dan, prompt to Nell's cry. 'I preevails on 'em to cease
easy.'

"As Dan says this, that radiant cavalier is sweepin' upon the pore
chicken like the breath of destiny. He's bendin' from the saddle to
make a swoop as Dan speaks. Thar ain't a moment to lose an' Dan's hand
goes to his gun.

"'Watch me stop him,' says Dan; an' as he does, his bullet makes rags
of the Mexican's hand not a inch from the chicken's head.

"For what time you-all might need to slop out a drink, the onlookin'
Mexicans stands still. Then the stoopefyin' impressions made by Dan's
pistol practice wears off an' a howl goes up like a hundred wolves. At
this Dan gets his number-two gun to b'ar, an' with one in each hand,
confronts the tan-coloured multitoode.

"'That's shore a nice shot, Nell!' says Dan over his shoulder, ropin'
for the congratoolations he thinks is comin.'

"But Nell don't hear him; she's one hundred yards away an' streakin' it
for the Red Light like a shootin' star. She