he
refrain chanted an unintelligible gibberish like the yelping of a
coyote, which the audience so cheered that he repeated it several
times. The crowd now gathered around the wagons and clamored for the
decision, and after consulting among ourselves some little time, and
knowing that a neutral or indefinite verdict was desired, we delegated
the bartender to announce our conclusions. Taking off his hat, he
arose, and after requesting quietness, pretended to read our decision.

"Gentlemen," he began, "your judges feel a delicacy in passing on the
merits of such distinguished artists, but in the first number the
decision is unanimously in favor of the darky, while the second is
clearly in favor of the white contestant. In regard to the last test,
your judges cannot reach any decision, as the selections rendered fail
to qualify under the head of"--

But two shots rang out in rapid succession across the street, and the
crowd, including the judges and fiddlers, rushed away to witness the
new excitement. The shooting had occurred in a restaurant, and quite a
mob gathered around the door, when the sheriff emerged from the
building.

"It's nothing," said he; "just a couple of punchers, who had been
drinking a little, were eating a snack, and one of them asked for a
second dish of prunes, when the waiter got gay and told him that he
couldn't have them,--'that he was full of prunes now.' So the lad took
a couple of shots at him, just to learn him to be more courteous to
strangers. There was no harm done, as the puncher was too unsteady."

As the crowd dispersed from the restaurant, I returned to the livery
stable, where Straw and several of our outfit were explaining to the
old mendicant that he had simply outplayed his opponent, and it was
too bad that they were not better posted in sacred music. Under
Straw's leadership, a purse was being made up amongst them, and the
old man's eyes brightened as he received several crisp bills and a
handful of silver. Straw was urging the old fiddler to post himself in
regard to sacred music, and he would get up another match for the next
day, when Rod Wheat came up and breathlessly informed Officer and
myself that The Rebel wanted us over at the Black Elephant gambling
hall. As we turned to accompany him, we eagerly inquired if there were
any trouble. Wheat informed us there was not, but that Priest was
playing in one of the biggest streaks of luck that ever happened.
"Why, the old man i