rts the hectic bandit, givin' another little
cat-cough. 'Which you needn't get your ondertakin' back up none.
Meanwhile, I'll nacherally string along with these obs'quies, so's to
be ready to talk turkey to you when you're through.'

"Enright gives the signal an', with Boomerang an' the hearse at the
head, the procession lines out at a seedate walk for the grave.

"Boot Hill's been located about a mile an' a half off, so as to give
our foonerals doo effect. As we pushes for'ard, everything mighty
solemn, the hectic bandit, keepin' a few feet off to one side, walks
his hoss parallel with the hearse. Every now an' then his hoss, makin'
a half bolt as if he's been flicked by the lash, would streak ahead a
rod or two like a four-laigged shadow. Then he'd pull him down to a
walk, an' sort o' linger along ontil the hearse comes up ag'in. He
does this a half dozen times; an' all in a hectorin' sperit that'd
anger the pulseless soul of a clam.

"One way an' another it stirs up the feelin's of old Boomerang, who's
beginnin' to bite at the bit an' throw his laigs some antic an'
permiscus. The Turner person himse'f acts like a party who's holdin'
onto his eemotions by the tail, so as to keep 'em from breakin' loose.
His face is set, his elbows squar'd, an' he's settin' up on his hearse
as stiff an' straight as a rifle bar'l, lookin' dead ahead between old
Boomerang's two y'ears. So it goes on for likely half a mile, the
hectic bandit seesawin' an' pesterin' an' badgerin' old Boomerang, now
dartin' ahead, now slowin' back to let the hearse ketch up.

"As I yeretofore explains, the Turner person ain't arranged mental to
entertain more'n one idee at a time. My own notion is that as the
hectic bandit, with Toobercloses, commences to encroach more an' more
upon his attention, he loses sight that a-way of old Holt an' the
fooneral. Whatever the valyoo of this as a theery, thar comes a
moment, about a mile from Boot Hill, when, as sudden as the crack of a
rifle, away goes Boomerang with the rush of a norther. Toobercloses
ain't a second behind. Thar they be, Toobercloses ag'inst Boomerang,
quill-wheel ag'inst hearse, old Holt inside, racin' away to beat a
royal flush.

"As hearse an' quill-wheel go t'arin' down the trail Monte gets the
fever, an' sets to pourin' the buckskin into his three span, an'
yellin' like forty Apaches. The six hosses goes into their collars
like lions, an' the stage takes to rockin' an' boundin' an' bumpin'