y. Armstrong's old badger of a uncle hangs on,
an' no outside corpse falls in, Arizona, as you doubtless savvys,
bein' scand'lously healthy that a-way. So far, too, from any el'g'ble
subject arrivin' in the usual way, the town never experiences sech a
period of rippleless an' onruffled peace. As showin', too, how far the
public is willin' to go to he'p along the play, I need only mention
that on two o'casions Boggs leaves out his best pony all night,
himse'f sprawled in behind a mesquite bush with his winchester, hopin'
some Mexican'll prove weak enough to want it. All is in vain, however.
Thar we be, framed up to give a fooneral from which Cochise County
could date time, an' nothin' in the line of raw mater'al wharwith to
pull it off. Which I never sees the gen'ral feelin' more exasperated.
It's as though in a sperit of sarcasm our destinies is mockin' us.

"The Turner person, in the face of this yere disheartenin' idleness,
takes refooge in a trottin' hoss, which form of equine is as strange
to us as camelopards. Shore, we has our runnin' races, pony ag'inst
pony, a quarter of a mile dash; but that's as far as we goes.

"The Turner person says that for himse'f he prefers trottin' races,
an' after seein' him ride once I shore quits marvellin' at that
pref'rence. You could no more keep him on a pony than you could keep
him on a red-hot stove. We ties a roll of blankets across the horn of
the saddle, an' organizes him with buckin' straps besides, an' in the
face of all them safegyards he rolls off that hoss same as you'd
expect some chambermaid to do.

"Accordin' to the Turner person, trottin' races is the sport of kings,
an' actin' on this feelin' he sends back East for a hoss. He drives it
in one evenin' behind the stage, an' we-all goes over to the corral to
size it up. It's consid'rable of a hoss, too, standin' three hands
higher than the tallest of our ponies. Also, it has a ewe neck an'
lib'ral legs. It's name is 'Henry of Navarre,' but we sees at once
that sech'll never do, an' re-christens him 'Boomerang Bob.'

"When this hoss arrives Boggs gets excited, an' him an' the Turner
person lays out a track all around town like a belt. Boggs allows it's
a mile long, or near enough, an' after a passel of Greasers cl'ars
away the cactus an' mesquite an' Spanish bayonet, the Turner person
hooks up Boomerang to a mountain wagon, an' sends him 'round an'
'round an' 'round at a pace that'd make your eyes stick out so far y