a mere recital of certain incidents which took place during the
last year or two of John Ringo's life; incidents which show the
difference between his breed of bad man and the breed to which
Buckskin Frank belonged. To the chronicler these incidents appeal for
that very reason. The days of the old West strike one as being very
much like the days of old knighthood; they were rude days when some
men tried hard to live up to a code of chivalry and some men made
themselves mighty by very foul means indeed. And while we may not
always be sure that the names which have come down to us--from either
of these wild eras--are those that should have been coupled with fame,
still we can be certain of one thing: the chivalry existed in both
periods.

According to the code in the Middle Ages the challenge and the single
combat were recognized institutions; and they say that knights-errant
used to go riding through the country seeking worthy opponents. And
according to the cow-boy code in southeastern Arizona during the
early eighties among the outlaws, a champion must be ready to try
conclusions in very much that same way on occasion.

It was one of those traditions which some men observed and
some--wisely--ignored. This desperado John Ringo was among those who
observed it; and one day, like poor old _Don Quixote_, he found
himself trying to force conclusions with men whose ideas were more
modern than his own, which led him--like Cervante's lean hero--into a
bad predicament and also brought him to a strange friendship.

The Earp brothers and their followers, as has been said, were ruling
Tombstone, and the outlaws had fled into the country east of the
Dragoon Mountains. But the outlaws did not fancy remaining out in the
open country; sometimes they came back to town in force and hung about
the place for days; always they were hoping to return permanently. And
always the Earps were looking to drive them out of the country for
good and all.

Eventually the situation came to a climax in the great Earp-Clanton
gun-fight, and there was a long period when this battle was brewing.
During this period whenever they came to town the desperadoes used to
stay at the Grand Central Hotel; and Bob Hatch's saloon, where the
Earp boys and their friends were accustomed to take their "morning's
morning," was directly across the street. Things came to a pass where
the noon hour would often find a group of outlaws on the sidewalk
before the hotel and