thoosiasm wharwith the Bug takes up his dooties.

"'It'll be six-shooters at ten paces,' he explains to Mike; 'an' if
you only shoots like you paints, we'll send that tramp whar the wicked
cease from troublin' an' the weary are at rest.'

"The Red Dog chief gives his word to Enright that Mike ain't in no
danger.

"'Comin' down to cases,' says the Red Dog chief; 'it's even money that
this yere Sorehead crawfishes. If he don't we've got it all set up to
hand him the Bug, instead of that Red Mike artist of yours. So you see
thar's lit'rally nothin' for you-all wolves to worry over at all.'

"'We-all wolves ain't in the habit of worryin' to any astoundin'
extent,' returns Enright, some rigid; 'none the less, I allows I'll
take a look through the sights myse'f, merely by way of makin' shore
which way the gun is p'inted. Thar's reasons, one of 'em a lovin'
little blind girl, why we're not so plumb partic'lar about havin' this
yere alleged artist party put over the jump.'

"The fight's a week away, an' by advice of the Bug, Mike decides to
put a polish on his shootin'. This yere's reckoned a bright idee, the
more since as near as we-all can jedge Mike never does pull a trigger
once since when his mother rocks his cradle an' warms his milk.

"'Only,' warns Enright, as Mike goes makin' prep'rations, 'don't
you-all go aimin' towards town none. We don't want no neeophytes
bombardin' the village, which y'ar in an' y'ar out sees bullets enough
in the nacheral onfoldment of eevents.'

"Mike, not havin' no gun, borrys a .45 of Moore. Thus equipped, he
secoores some cartridges at the Noo York store, an' la'nches forth. No
one goes with him, since he allows he'll shoot better if he's by
himse'f.

"Thar's a powder house, belongin' to the Copper Queen Mine, about a
mile outside of town. It stands off by itse'f an' nothin' near it, no
one honin' much to live neighbor to a ton or two of powder. It's about
fifth drink time the mornin' Mike seelects for his practice shootin'
when, like a bolt from the bloo, that Copper Queen powder house goes
up with a most emphatic whang! What Peets calls the 'concussion'
breaks windows in the Wells-Fargo office, an' shakes up the Red Light
to that extent it brings down Monte's picture an' busts it to forty
flinders on the bottles.

"'Which for a moment,' says Black Jack, commentin' on the gen'ral mess
it makes, 'I thinks it's one of Colonel Sterett's _Coyote_ editorials
on the licker question.'