r me
like a baggage waggon.'

"'Which I should say so!' says Jack Moore, drawin' a deep breath. 'You
takes every chance, Dave, when you don't cut loose that time!'

"'When Boone beholds me,' says Dave, 'annex his gun he almost c'lapses
into a fit. He makes a backward leap that shows he ain't lived among
rattlesnakes in vain. Then he stretches his hand towards me an' Yuba,
an' says, "Don't shoot! Let's take a drink; it's on the house!"

"'Yuba, with his nose still a peaceful gray, turns from the gun an'
sidles for the bar; I follows along, thirsty, but alert. When we-all
is assembled, Boone makes a wailin' request for his six-shooter.

"'"Get his," I says, at the same time, animadvertin' at Yuba with the
muzzle.

"'Yuba passes his weepons over the bar an' I follows suit with Boone's.
Then we drinks with our eyes on each other in silent scorn.

"'"Which we-all will see about this later,' growls Yuba, as he leaves
the bar.

"'"Go as far as you like, old sport," I retorts, for this last edition,
as Colonel Sterett would term it, of Valley Tan makes me that brave I'm
miseratin' for a riot.

"'It's the next day before ever I'm firm enough, to come ag'in to
Tucson. This stage-wait in the tragedy is doo to fear excloosive. I
hears how Yuba is plumb bad; how he's got two notches on his stick; how
he's filed the sights off his gun; an' how in all reespects he's a
murderer of merit an' renown. Sech news makes me timid two ways: I'm
afraid Yuba'll down me some; an' then ag'in I'm afraid he's so popular
I'll be lynched if I downs him. Shore, that felon Yuba begins to
assoome in my apprehensions the stern teachers of a whipsaw. At last
I'm preyed on to that degree I'm desperate; an' I makes up my mind to
invade Tucson, cross up with Yuba an' let him come a runnin'. The
nervousness of extreme yooth doubtless is what goads me to this
decision.

"'It's about second drink time in the afternoon when, havin' donned my
weepons, I rides into Tucson. After leavin' my pony at the corral, I
turns into the main street. It's scorchin' hot an' barrin' a dead
burro thar's hardly anybody in sight. Up in front of the Oriental, as
luck has it, stands Yuba and a party of doobious morals who slays hay
for the gov'ment, an' is addressed as Lon Gilette. As I swings into
the causeway, Gilette gets his eye on me an' straightway fades into the
Oriental leavin' Yuba alone in the street. This yere strikes me as
mighty ominous; I fee