"

"Which the trial itse'f," he replied, "don't come out. Thar's a passel
of the boys who's come into town to see that jestice is done, an' bein'
the round-up is goin' for'ard at the time, they nacherally feels
hurried an' pressed for leesure. They-alls oughter be back on the
range with their cattle. So the fifth day, when things is loiterin'
along at the trial till it looks like the law has hobbles on, an' the
word goes round it's goin' to be a week yet before the jury gets action
on this miscreant who's bein' tried, the boys becomes plumb aggravated
an' wearied out that a-way; an', kickin' in the door of the calaboose,
they searches out the felon, swings him to a cottonwood not otherwise
engaged, an' the right prevails. Nacherally the trial bogs down right
thar."

After another season of silence and smoke, the Old Cattleman struck in
again.

"Speakin' of killin's, while I'm the last gent to go fosterin' idees of
bloodshed, I'm some discouraged jest now by what I've been readin' in
that paper about a dooel between some Eytalians, an' it shorely tries
me the way them aliens plays boss. It's obvious as stars on a cl'ar
night, they never means fight a little bit. I abhors dooels, an'
cowers from the mere idee. But, after all, business is business, an'
when folks fights 'em the objects of the meetin' oughter be blood. But
the way these yere European shorthorns fixes it, a gent shorely runs a
heap more resk of becomin' a angel abrupt, attendin' of a Texas
cake-walk in a purely social way.

"Do they ever fight dooels in the West? Why, yes--some. My mem'ry
comes a-canterin' up right now with the details of an encounter I once
beholds in Wolfville. Thar ain't no time much throwed away with a
dooel in the Southwest. The people's mighty extemporaneous, an' don't
go browsin' 'round none sendin' challenges in writin', an' that sort of
flapdoodle. When a gent notices the signs a-gettin' about right for
him to go on the war-path, he picks out his meat, surges up, an'
declares himse'f. The victim, who is most likely a mighty serious an'
experienced person, don't copper the play by makin' vain remarks, but
brings his gatlin' into play surprisin'. Next it's bang! bang! bang!
mixed up with flashes an' white smoke, an' the dooel is over complete.
The gent who still adorns our midst takes a drink on the house, while
St. Peter onbars things a lot an' arranges gate an' seat checks with
the other in the realms of light.