out a tin cup of
it, an' sets it down by a prairie dog's hole. Accordin' to Tutt, the
dog comes out, laps it once, an' starts back same as if he's been shot
with a '45. Thar he squats, battin' his eyes, wrinklin' up his nose,
an' cogitatin'. After thinkin' the thing over, the dog approaches,
mighty gingerly, an' takes three or four more laps. Then he r'ars
back, an' considers for quite a spell. It looks final like he gets his
mind made up, an' with that he capers over, an' he'ps himse'f to what
for a prairie dog is shore a big drink.

"Two minutes later, ha'r bristlin', whiskers standin' out like wire,
eyes full of determination, that dog crosses over to another dog who's
livin' neighbor to him, an' says--accordin' to Tutt:

"'Wharever can I locate that coyote who's been domineerin' round yere
for mebby it's a month, harassin' folks into their holes? Whar's that
coyote at?'

"Peets allers allows Tutt exaggerates, but havin' sampled that licker
some myse'f, I'm a long ride from bein' so shore.

"That lack of war instinct in Monte ain't no speecific drawback. Him
drivin' stage that a-way, he ain't expected none to fight. The
hold-ups onderstands it, the company onderstands it, everybody
onderstands it. It's the law of the trail. That's why, when the stage
is stopped, the driver's never downed. Which if thar's money aboard,
an' the express outfit wants it defended, they slams on some sport to
ride shotgun that trip. It's for this shotgun speshulist to give the
route agents an argyooment. Which they're licensed to go bombardin'
each other ontil the goin' down of the sun. As for the driver,
however, the etikette simply calls for him to set his brake, an' all
peaceful hold his hands above his head. It's inside his rights, too,
accordin' to the rooles, for him to cuss out the hold-ups, an' call
'em all the hard names of which he's cap'ble; an' stage drivers, who
loves their art, spends their time between drinks practisin' new cuss
words, an' inventin' onheard of epithets, so as to be ready when dooty
an' o'casion calls. Havin' downed or driven off the shotgun sport, an'
seen the bottom of the express box, the hold-ups tells the stage
driver to pull his freight. Wharupon he picks up the reins, kicks free
the brake, lets fly a loorid an' final broadside of vitooperation--he
havin' carefully reeserved the same, by way of peroration--an' goes
his windin' way.

"Wolfville's been on the map for most a year, when Monte first s