XI
THE FUNERAL OF OLD HOLT
"That Turner person! Does he remain in Wolfville long?" The oldcattleman repeated my question as though feeling for its bearings."Well, he don't break no records. Which I should say now he sojournswith us mebby it's six months before he ups stakes an' pulls hisfreight back East. Oh, no; it ain't that any gent who's licensed tocall himse'f a molder of public opinion, sech as Enright or Peets,objects to the Turner person's further presence none. Speakin'gen'ral, the heft of feelin' is in his favor. Not but what he hasdeeficiencies. It's no easy shot, offhand, to tell you preecisely wharthis Turner person is camped in common esteem. Perhaps it's enough tosay he's one of them parties who, while they don't excite yourdisapproval, is shore to keep you loaded with regrets.
"Ain't you met up frequent with that form of horned toad? Thar'snothin' you can lodge ag'inst 'em, nothin' at which a vig'lancecommittee can rope an' fasten; they're honest, well meanin', evengen'rous; an' yet thar they be, upholstered by nacher in some occultway with about the same chance of bein' pop'lar as a wet dog. Speakin'for myse'f, I feels sorry for these yere onforchoonate mavericks,condemned as they be at birth to go pirootin' from the cradle to thegrave, meetin' everywhar about the same welcome which awaits a polecatat a picnic.
"Thar's no predom'natin' element of evil in this Turner person. Whichin his case the trouble swings an' rattles on the way he's built. Hiscrownin' deefect, mighty likely, is that he's got one of them sidehillminds, an' what idees he does evolve can't find no foothold, but isrobbed at the start of everything reesemblin' perm'nancy. I watcheshis comin's in an' goin's out for months on eend, an' I'm yere tosay--at the same time ascribin' to him no ill intentions--that onderall condition an' on all o'casions he's as onreli'ble as a woman'swatch.
"About that weddin' he goes east to consummate?
"Which it looks like, speakin' mod'rate, he quits winner. He travelsback to Sni-a-bar as tame as tabby cats in persooance with Enright'scommands, an', once thar, old man Parks an' the rest of 'em whistleshim through the marital chute a heap successful. When he shows upamong us, his blushin' Peggy bride on his arm, he's wearin' all thebrands an' y'ear marks of a thor'ughly married man; to sech degrees,indeed, as renders Texas oncomfortable.
"'It recalls,' says Texas, 'them honeymoon days I passed with myLaredo wife before she wins out that divorce. It's like a iciclethrough my heart to look at him,' he goes on, aloodin' to the Turnerperson an' the fatyoous fog of deelight he's evident in. 'Thar he is,like a cub b'ar, his troubles all before him, an' not brains enoughonder his skelp-lock to a'preeciate his awful p'sition.'
"'Why, Texas,' remonstrates Nell as, the turn comin' trey-nine, shepicks a stack of bloos off the trey an' puts it in the check rack,'you talks of wedlock as though that sacriment's a brace. Plenty offolks has beat the game. Thar's Tutt an' Tucson Jennie.'
"'Them nuptials of Dave's an' Jennie's, Nell,' returns Texas, shakin'his head a heap gloomy, 'ain't far enough to the r'ar to afford apreecedent. Wait till Dave wakes up.'
"'Till Dave wakes up?' says Boggs, who's busy at the lay-out, an' hasjest planted a stack of reds coppered in the big squar'. 'Sechpess'mism, Texas, is reedic'lous. Bein' married that a-way, I takesit, is somethin' like walkin' a tightrope. It reequires care, but itcan be did. To be shore, if anything happens, you're in for ajo-darter of a jolt. Still, the resk don't render the feat imposs'ble,an' a brave man disregyards it.'
"'That's whatever,' comments Nell, as, the king fallin' to win, shedraws down Boggs's reds.
"Thar's no chill on the reception we confers on the Turner person an'his Peggy bride. Monte has orders, in case they're aboard, to onlimberhis shotgun a mile or two outside of camp, so's we gets notice an' isnot caught off our gyard. For once the old drunkard is faithful to histrust, an' when we hears him whangin' away with both bar'ls, we turnsout, as they say in Noo York, _en masse_. Every gent empties the sixchambers of his gun as the stage pulls up, an' the Turner personhe'ps out his Peggy bride into the center of a most joyful foosilade.We couldn't have done more if she's the Queen of Sheba.
"The Turner person an' his Peggy bride is in right from the go. MissisRucker declar's that the bride's a lady; Nell proclaims her as 'shorecorn-fed,' while Tucson Jennie allows she's a whole lot too good forsech a jack-rabbit of a husband as she gets.
"Her beauty?
"Which you couldn't say it's calc'lated to blind.
"For mere loveliness she ain't a marker to Nell. To be frank, it'ssomethin' more'n a simple question that a-way if she splits even withTucson Jennie. As for Missis Rucker, that matron bein' past her yoothain't properly speakin' in the runnin', an' to go comparin' her withgirls would be injestice.
"Once landed, an' havin' escaped from that ovation we prepar's, theTurner person an' his Peggy bride moves into the wickeyup okyoopiedformer by Cash Box Billie an' Missis Bill, an' opens up their domesticgame. Hearin' nothin' to the contrary, no howls of anguish from him,no yelps of complaint from her, it's safe to say that in what joys issupposed to attend the connoobyal state, they coppers all of themloogubrious forebodin's of Texas, an' gets at least as good as a evenbreak.
"Old man Parks back at Sni-a-bar?
"It looks like the Turner person, him bein' nacherally timid,exaggerates the perils which lurks in that aged cimmaron. Leastwise,old Parks don't offer no voylance to him, neither at the weddin' norlater. Some waifword does come creepin' along that durin' the cer'monytwo of the guests has to hold old Parks, an' that he's searched forweepons by the preacher before ever said divine consents to turn hisgame at all. Which I'm free to say, however, I never lends nocreedence to them yarns.
"The Turner person, now he's established as a married gent an' acit'zen in full standin', gives himse'f horn an' hide to business thata-way. He's as prompt about openin' his coffin emporium as ever isBlack Jack in throwin' wide the portals of the Red Light. Once thar,he stays ontil the evenin' lamps is lit, layin' for a corpse to usehis new hearse on.
"Also, the Turner person has hopes: an' equally also he ain't withoutfoundations wharon to build. That's an uncle of Armstrong who has cometotterin' into camp, as he says himse'f, to die. Likewise, it's theonbiased view of every gent in the outfit that this reelative ofArmstrong possesses reasons. He's a walkin' wreck. Peets concedes thathe's got every malady ever heard of, besides sev'ral as to whichscience is plumb in the dark.
"Nacherally, not alone the Turner person, but the public at large,figgers that this yere uncle'll shore furnish employment for thehearse, an' at no distant day. But it looks like that onmitigatedinvalid is out to test our patience. Mornin' after mornin' he comesscufflin' into the Red Light on two canes to get his matootinalnosepaint, an' this he keeps up ontil it begins to look like malice.Ree'lizin', too, the pecooliar int'rest we-all is bound to take in himonder the circumstances, he puts on airs, an' goes by us when he meetsus as coldly haughty as a paycar by a tramp. Or, ag'in, he's prone togrin at us plenty peevish an' malev'lent, an' this he does partic'larif the Turner person's hoverin' round.
"'Which I shore deespises to keep you boys waitin',' he'd say, with acacklin', aggravatin' laugh; 'but the way I feels it'd be prematooreto go greasin' up the hubs of that hearse.'
"Sech taunts he flings forth constant, ontil he comes mighty neardrivin' Boggs frantic.
"'It seems,' says Boggs, 'like simply livin' ain't good enough forthat old hoss thief. To be wholly happy he's obleeged to make his stayon earth a source of mis'ry to other folks. Which he ought to've beenin his tomb ten years ago. Every day he draws his breath is so muchvelvet; an', instead of bein' thankful, all he thinks of is makin'mean reemarks an' sayin' bitin' things. He'll keep on till someover-provoked sport bends a six-shooter on his insultin' head.'
"Weeks of waitin' goes by. 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'blesubject arrivin' in the usual way, the town never experiences sech aperiod of rippleless an' onruff
led peace. As showin', too, how far thepublic is willin' to go to he'p along the play, I need only mentionthat 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 Countycould date time, an' nothin' in the line of raw mater'al wharwith topull 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 strangeto us as camelopards. Shore, we has our runnin' races, pony ag'instpony, 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 thatpref'rence. You could no more keep him on a pony than you could keephim on a red-hot stove. We ties a roll of blankets across the horn ofthe saddle, an' organizes him with buckin' straps besides, an' in theface of all them safegyards he rolls off that hoss same as you'dexpect 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 itin one evenin' behind the stage, an' we-all goes over to the corral tosize it up. It's consid'rable of a hoss, too, standin' three handshigher 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 oncethat sech'll never do, an' re-christens him 'Boomerang Bob.'
"When this hoss arrives Boggs gets excited, an' him an' the Turnerperson lays out a track all around town like a belt. Boggs allows it'sa mile long, or near enough, an' after a passel of Greasers cl'arsaway the cactus an' mesquite an' Spanish bayonet, the Turner personhooks 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 youcould see your sins. Old Boomerang is shore some eevanescent! Whenthat Turner person shakes the reins an' yells 'Skoot!' you could hearhim whizz. On sech occasions he's nothin' short of a four-laiggedmeteor, an' looks forty feet long passin' a given p'int.
"The big drawback is that thar ain't no quadrooped anywhar about torace Boomerang ag'inst. Leastwise, we don't hear of none for goin' onsome months, an' when we do it's as far away as Albuquerque. Someconsumptive tenderfoot, it looks like, has got a trottin' hoss oversome'ers between Albuquerque an' Socorro, sech at least is the wordwhich comes to us.
"When this pulmonary sport hears of Boomerang, which he does byvirchoo of the overblown boastin's of the Turner person, he announcesthat his hoss, Toobercloses, can beat him for money, marbles or chalk.Then comes a season of bluff an' counter-bluff, the pulmonary partyinsistin' that the Turner person bring Boomerang up to Albuquerque,an' the Turner person darin' the pulmonary sport to fetch his 'dog,'as he scornfully terms Toobercloses, down to Wolfville.
"It's to be said for the Turner person that he'd have shore tookBoomerang, an' gone romancin' off to Albuquerque, lookin' for thatweak-lunged reprobate an' his hoss, only sent'ment is plumb ag'instit. We-all don't propose to lose the camp the advantages of thatcontest, an' so to put an eend to discussion, we urges upon the Turnerperson that we-all'll shore kill him if he tries. This yere firmnessgives us the pref'rence over Albuquerque, an' the pulmonary sportallows final that he'll come to Wolfville, but don't say when.
"While eevents is thus a-whirl, an' the camp's all keyed up to concertpitch over the comin' race between Boomerang an' Toobercloses, thelong-hoped for comes to pass an' the Turner person, as fooneraldirector, receives his 'nitial call. Over in Red Dog is a party namedHolt. He ain't standin' none too high, him havin' married a Mexicanwoman, an' even them Red Dogs has the se'f-respect to draw the socialline at Mexicans. One sun-up, however, she goes trapesin' across theline to visit her people down near Casa Grande, an' she never doescome back. It looks like she's got enough of old Holt, which to gentswho knows him don't go trenchin' on the strange.
"The long suit of this yere Mexican wife of old Holt's is thinkin'she's sick, she holdin' that she's got as many things the matter withher as is preyin' on Armstrong's uncle. When she breaks out of thecorral an' goes stampedin' off to her tribe, she leaves behind mebbyit's a hundred bottles or more of patent med'cine, rangin' all the wayfrom arnica to ha'r dye.
"Followin' her flight that a-way old Holt goes to takin' an account ofstock by way of seein' what she cabbages an' what she leaves, an' thefirst flash he blunders upon this yere bushel or so of drugs. He's toofroogal to throw 'em away, old Holt is, bein' plumb pars'monious thata-way, an' after revolvin' the play in his mind for a spell, he upsan' swallows 'em to save 'em.
"No one ever does figger out jest what individyooal med'cine bumpsold Holt off that time, an' thar's no sayin' whether it's the arnicaor the ha'r dye or some other deecoction, or simply the wholeclan-jamfrey in comb'nation. Not that any gent goes to reely delvin'for the trooth, the gen'ral interest pitchin' camp contentedly onthe simple fact that old Holt's been shore put over the jump. DocPeets? Old Holt's packed in before the Doc's half way to Red Dog.Shore; some of them bottled med'cines is as ack'rate an' as fullof action as a six-shooter.
"Of course we-all is pleased to think the Turner person, as fooneraldirector, ain't been born to bloom onseen, but the rift in the flooteis that the corpse belongs to Red Dog. Old Holt ain't ours none, an'from whatever angle we looks at it it appears like Wolfville ain'tgoin' to get a look in.
"It's at pinches sech as this that Enright shows his genius forleadership. While all of us is lookin' bloo, to see how Red Dog beatsus to it for our own hearse, our fertile old war chief is ribbin' up agame for pop'lar relief.
"The Red Dog del'gation, headed by the Red Dog chief, comes over toround up the Turner person an' his hearse to entomb old Holt. At theirshowin' up Enright begins to onkiver his diplomacy.
"'Which we symp'thizes with you-all in your bereevement, gents,' sayshe to the Red Dog bunch, 'but it's ag'inst our rooles for this yerehearse to go outside of camp.'
"'Ain't you actin' some niggardly about that hearse?' asks the Red Dogchief coldly.
"'Not niggardly, only proodent. Death cometh as a thief in the night,speshully in Arizona, an' we-all'd be a fine band of prairie dogs togo lendin' our only hearse all over the territory, an' mebby have itskallyhootin' 'round som'ers up about the Utah line jest when we needsit at home. However, as refootin' your onjest charge of bein'niggards, if you-all Red Dogs wants to bring deceased over yere, ourentire lay-out is at your disposal. Allowin' you can find your ownsky-pilot, we stands ready to not only let you have our hearse, butfurnish you likewise with moosic from the Bird Cage Op'ry House,cha'rs from the dance hall, the Noo York store to hold serv'ces in, tosay nothin' to considerin' you-all as our guests from soda to hock,with every Red Light thing said term implies.'
"'Also,' observes Peets, who, from his place at Enright's elbow, isridin' circumspect herd on the play--'also, we presents you-all,without money an' without price, a sepulcher in our buryin' ground onBoot Hill.'
"This yere last provokes a storm of protest, the Red Dog del'gationtakin' turns exposchoolatin'. But Enright an' the Doc stands ca'mlypat.
"'Which now,' says the Red Dog chief, an' his tones is bitter--'whichnow I begins to ketch onto your plot. You savvys as well as I do thatold Holt don't ought to go into your pile at all. He belongs in ourpile--to Red Dog's pile. An' let me reemind you intriguers that RedDog owns its own cem'tery over in Headboard Hollow, an' ain't askin'graveyard odds of any outfit west of the Spanish Peaks. This is a fineidee,' he concloods, turnin' sneerin'ly to his cohorts; 'not contentwith tryin' to grab off these yere obs'quies, they're brazenlymanooverin' to purloin the corpse.'
"At these contoomelius reemarks Boggs, Tutt, Moore an' Cherokee takesto edgin' to the fore, but Enright reepresses 'em with a admon'torywave of his hand.
"'Gents,' he says, to the Red Dog hold-ups, 'as vis'tors, even t
houghse'f-invited, you're entitled to courtesy. But thar's a limit goeswith courtesy even, an' you-all mustn't press it.'
"This last sets the Red Dog outfit back on its apol'getic ha'nches,an' after a few more footile but less insultin' bluffs, they retiresto consult. The wind-up is that they yields to Enright's terms,incloosive of Boot Hill, an' after libatin' at the Red Light theycanters off to freight over old Holt, so's to be ready to hold thefooneral next day.
"As I looks back to them prep'rations thar's no denyin' that as afooneral director the Turner person proves himse'f plumb cap'ble ofgettin' thar with the goods. Once he reeceives the word, everythinggoes off as measured an' steady as the breathin' of a sleepin' child.Even the Red Dog chief is moved to softer views, as gents frequent befollowin' the eighth drink, an' whispers to Enright, confidenshul,that when all's in the only thing he deplores is that old Holt isbein' planted on Boot Hill instead of in Headboard Hollow. At thisEnright, meetin' the Red Dog chief half-way, whispers back that later,if Red Dog desires the same, we'll jump in an' move old Holt a wholelot to Headboard Hollow. At this lib'ral'ty the Red Dog chief squeezesEnright's hand a heap fraternal, an' chokes with emotion. He sobs outthat this is the one thing wanted to reestore them former friendlyreelations between the camps.
"The procession is one of the most exhil'ratin' pageants ever seen inthe Southwest. At the head is the ploomed hearse, old Holt inside,the Turner person on the box. Next comes the stage coach, Montedrivin', an' Nell, Missis Rucker, Tucson Jennie, little Enright Peets,the Turner person's Peggy bride an' other ladies inside. The balanceof us attends on our ponies, ridin' two an' two.
"As we're waitin' for the preacher sharp, who's goin' in the stage, toget tucked in among the ladies, a hollow-chested, chalk-cheeked,sardonic-lookin', cynical-seemin' bandit, drivin' a lean-laigged hossto one of them spid'ry things they calls a quill-wheel, comespirootin' along over to one side of the fooneral cortege at a walk.He's p'intin' in from over Red Dog way, but I savvys from thewonderin' faces of them Red Dog sports that he's as new to them as us.The cynical bandit skirts along our procession ontil he's abreast ofthe hearse. Then he pulls up, we-all not havin' had the word to startas yet.
"The Turner person has hooked up old Boomerang to the hearse, so as toconfer on this his first fooneral all the style he can. Havin' haltedhis quill-wheel, the hectic bandit, coughin' a little, p'ints his whipat Boomerang an' says to the Turner person:
"'Is this the skate you're tryin' to match ag'inst my Toobercloses?'
"'Grizzly b'ars an' golden eagles!' exclaims Boggs, who's ridin' nextto me, 'if he ain't that lunger from Albuquerque!' An' Boggs pulls outto the left, an' crowds up towards the hearse for a closer look.
"'As fooneral director,' the Turner person replies to the hectic,quill-wheel bandit, whom he fathoms instantly--'as fooneral director,I must preeserve the decorums. But only you wait, you onblushin'outlaw, ontil I've patted down the sods on old Holt yere, an' I'llrace you for every splinter you own.'
"'That's all right,' retorts the hectic bandit, givin' another littlecat-cough. 'Which you needn't get your ondertakin' back up none.Meanwhile, I'll nacherally string along with these obs'quies, so's tobe ready to talk turkey to you when you're through.'
"Enright gives the signal an', with Boomerang an' the hearse at thehead, 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 giveour foonerals doo effect. As we pushes for'ard, everything mightysolemn, the hectic bandit, keepin' a few feet off to one side, walkshis 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 arod or two like a four-laigged shadow. Then he'd pull him down to awalk, an' sort o' linger along ontil the hearse comes up ag'in. Hedoes this a half dozen times; an' all in a hectorin' sperit that'danger the pulseless soul of a clam.
"One way an' another it stirs up the feelin's of old Boomerang, who'sbeginnin' 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 hearseas stiff an' straight as a rifle bar'l, lookin' dead ahead between oldBoomerang's two y'ears. So it goes on for likely half a mile, thehectic bandit seesawin' an' pesterin' an' badgerin' old Boomerang, nowdartin' ahead, now slowin' back to let the hearse ketch up.
"As I yeretofore explains, the Turner person ain't arranged mental toentertain more'n one idee at a time. My own notion is that as thehectic bandit, with Toobercloses, commences to encroach more an' moreupon his attention, he loses sight that a-way of old Holt an' thefooneral. Whatever the valyoo of this as a theery, thar comes amoment, about a mile from Boot Hill, when, as sudden as the crack of arifle, away goes Boomerang with the rush of a norther. Tooberclosesain't a second behind. Thar they be, Toobercloses ag'inst Boomerang,quill-wheel ag'inst hearse, old Holt inside, racin' away to beat aroyal flush.
"As hearse an' quill-wheel go t'arin' down the trail Monte gets thefever, an' sets to pourin' the buckskin into his three span, an'yellin' like forty Apaches. The six hosses goes into their collarslike lions, an' the stage takes to rockin' an' boundin' an' bumpin' inclost pursoote of the hearse. Nor be we-all on ponies left any behind,you bet. We cuts loose, quirt an' spur, an' brings up the r'ar in adust-liftin', gallopin' half-moon. It's ondoubted the quickest-movin'fooneral that ever gets pulled off.
"Old Holt, an' put it lightest, is a one hundred an' eighty pounder,an' the hearse itse'f is as heavy as a Studebaker wagon. Fromstandp'ints of weight pore old Boomerang ain't gettin' a squar' deal.Which the old hero ain't got no notion of bein' beat, though. He's allheart an' bottom; an', game?--bald hornets is quitters to him!
"The load begins to tell at last, though, an' inch by inch Tooberclosesstarts to nose Boomerang out. It's then the flood-gates is lifted.Nell, head out of one of the coach windows, starts screamin' toBoomerang; Missis Rucker's got her sunbonnet out of another,expressin' her opinion of the hectic bandit an' Toobercloses; TucsonJennie is shoutin' for Dave to come an' rescue her; the Turnerperson's Peggy is shriekin' with hysterics; the preacher sharp--who'stryin' to get at Monte--is talkin' scriptoorally but various, whilelittle Enright Peets is contreebutin' his small cub-coyote yelps ofexultation to the gen'ral racket.
"Back among us riders the bets is flyin' hither an' yon as thick asswallow birds at eventide, we offerin' hundreds on Boomerang an' themRed Dogs backin' Toobercloses. It's as the tech of death to theWolfville heart when we sees Toobercloses slowly surgin' to the fore.
THAR'S A BOMBARDMENT WHICH SOUNDS LIKE A BATTERY OFGATLINGS, THE WHOLE PUNCTCHOOATED BY A WHIRLWIND OF "WHOOPS!" p. 317.]
"Half-way to Boot Hill Boggs spurs up on the nigh flank of Boomerang.
"'Yere's whar we puts a little verve into this thing!' he roars; an'pullin' his guns he begins shakin' the loads out of 'em like romancandles.
"Wolfville an' Red Dog, every gent follows Boggs' example. It soundslike a battery of gattlings, the whole punctchooated by a whirlwind of'Whoops!' that'd have backed a war party of Apaches over a bluff. Theyalmost hears us in Tucson.
"Old Boomerang reesponds noble to Boggs's six-shooters. They was thepreecise kind of encouragement he's been waitin' for, an' onder theirinspiration he t'ars by Toobercloses like a thrown lance. We sweeps onto Boot Hill, makin' a deemoniac finish, old Boomerang leadin' by thelen'th of the hearse.
"Nobody's hurt, onless you wants to count that hectic bandit fromAlbuquerque. After he's beat cold, Toobercloses gets tangled upaccidental in a mesquite bush, the quill-wheel swaps eends withitse'f, an' the hectic Albuquerque bandit lands head on in a bunch ofcactus. He's shore a spectacle; an' Peets says private that for awhile thar's hopes he'll die. As for the parson, who's the sorestdivine in Arizona, he allows that the only bet he ever knowsprov'dence to overlook is not breakin' the hectic bandit's neck.
"Nacherally, the Red Dogs feels some grouchy a
t the way things hasgone, an' while they gives up their orig'nal thought of lynchin' thehectic bandit, they're plenty indignant at him for turnin' old Holt'sfooneral into a hoss race. It ain't old Holt that's frettin' 'em somuch as that they feels like it's a disgrace on their camp.
"This yere Red Dog feelin' prodooces a onlooked for effect. They goesgloomin' an' glowerin' 'round, an' talkin' to themselves to sech ahostile extent it ups an' scares the Turner person. Plumb timid bynacher, he gets afraid the Red Dogs' indignation'll incloode himfinal, an' eend by drawin' their horns his way. It's no use tryin' toca'm him. Argyooment, reemonstrance, even a promise to protect himwith our lives, has no effect. The Turner person, in a last stampedeof his nerve, is for dustin' back to Missouri--him an' his Peggybride. He says it's more peaceful, more civ'lized thar, which shorestrikes us as a heap jocose. In the end, however, we has to let himgo.
"The hearse?
"We keeps the hearse, that an' Boomerang; Armstrong's uncle buys 'em.He says he don't aim to be sep'rated none from the only hearse withina hundred miles, an' him on the verge of the grave.
"'Which my only reason for livin' now,' says he, 'is to lac'rateBoggs, an' even that as a pastime is beginnin' to pall.'
"What time does Boomerang make?
"No one preetends to hold a watch. Thar's one thing, though, whichlooks like he was shore goin' some. Tutt on the way back picks up adead jack-rabbit, that's been run over by the hearse."