a white shirt and went to the ball. To show you how general
the good feeling amongst everybody was, I squeezed the hand of an
alfalfa widow during a waltz, who instantly reported the affront
offered to her gallant. In her presence he took me to task for the
offense. 'Young man,' said the doctor, with a quiet wink,' this lady
is under my protection. The fourteenth amendment don't apply to you
nor me. Six-shooters, however, make us equal. Are you armed?'

"'I am, sir.'

"'Unfortunately, I am not. Will you kindly excuse me, say ten
minutes?'

"'Certainly, sir, with pleasure.'

"'There are ladies present,' he observed. 'Let us retire.'

"On my consenting, he turned to the offended dame, and in spite of her
protests and appeals to drop matters, we left the ballroom, glaring
daggers at each other. Once outside, he slapped me on the back, and
said, 'Say, we'll just have time to run up to my office, where I have
some choice old copper-distilled, sent me by a very dear friend in
Kentucky.'

"The goods were all he claimed for them, and on our return he asked
me as a personal favor to apologize to the lady, admitting that he was
none too solid with her himself. My doing so, he argued, would fortify
him with her and wipe out rivals. The doctor was a rattling good
fellow, and I'd even taken off my new shirt for him, if he'd said the
word. When I made the apology, I did it on the grounds that I could
not afford to have any difference, especially with a gentleman who
would willingly risk his life for a lady who claimed his protection.

"No, if you never heard of voting the bonds you certainly haven't kept
very close tab on affairs in this Strip. Two or three men whom I know
refused to go in and vote. They ain't working in this country now. It
took some of the boys ten days to go and come, but there wasn't a
word said. Wages went on just the same. You ain't asleep, are you, Don
Guillermo?"

"Oh, no," said Edwards, with a yawn, "I feel just like the nigger did
when he eat his fill of possum, corn bread, and new molasses: pushed
the platter away and said, 'Go way, 'lasses, you done los' yo'
sweetness.'"

Bradshaw made several attempts to go, but each time some thought
would enter his mind and he would return with questions about former
acquaintances. Finally he inquired, "What ever became of that little
fellow who was sick about your camp?"

Edwards meditated until Mouse said, "He's thinking about little St.
John, the fidd