a pitying eye on Aleck.

"As time went on Aleck got worse and worse. He had a case of
ingrowing affection; it cut his weight down to ninety pounds. With
him leaving himself at that rate, you could take pencil and paper
and figure to the minute when Alexander Fulton was booked to cross
the big divide. And we liked the kid. In spite of his magnificent
feet, and his homeliness, and his thumb-handsidedness, I got to
feel sort of as if he was my boy--though if ever I have a boy like
Aleck, I put in my vote for marriage being a failure, and
everything lost, honor and all. Probably it was more as if he was
a puppy-dog, or some other little critter that couldn't take care
of itself. Anyhow, we got worked up about the matter, and talked
it over considerable when he was out of hearing. It come to this:
there was no earthly use in trying to get Aleck to go back and make
a play at the girl. He'd ha' fell dead at the thought of it. That
left nothing but to bring the girl to Aleck. You see, we thought
if we told the young woman that here was a decent honest
man--hurrying over the rest of the description--just evaporating
for love of her, that she might be persuaded to come out and marry
him. We weren't going to let our pardner slip away without an
effort anyhow. We couldn't do no less than try. Then come the
problem of who was the proper party to act as messenger. The rest
of us, without bothering him by taking him into our confidence,
decided that Scraggs was the proper man, because, if he didn't know
Women and her Ways, the subject belonged to the lost arts.

"But, man! Didn't he r'ar when we told him!

"'ME go after a woman!' says he. '_ME_!!!--Take another drink!'
But we labored with him. Told about what a horrible time he'd
had--he always liked to hear about it--and how there wasn't anybody
else fit to handle his discard in the little game of matrimony--and
what was the use of sending a man that would break at the first
wire fence? If we was going to do the thing, we wanted to do it;
and so forth and so forth, till we had him saddled and bridled and
standing in the corner of the corral as peaceful as a soldier's
monument, for he was the best-hearted old cuss under his crust that
ever lived.

"'All right,' says he. 'I'll do it, and it's "Get there, Eli!"
when I hook dirt. Poor old Aleck is as good as married, and the
Lord have mercy on his soul! But there's one thing I wish to
state: I'm running the job,